#doing the exact same poses and emotes

[neriyon]

Patch 6.55 musings, some really vague spoilers ahead:

I'm plesantly surprised by the MSQ today! Idk why but for some reason I personally felt very bored by the whole 6.1-6.5 story. It just didn't feel interesting in the slightest and the pacing seemed somehow off, enough that I was starting to get worried about Dawntrail. If I had so little interest in the patches before it, what would it mean for the actual expansion, esp when their whole selling point so far has been "uhhhh vacation :)".

But somehow this half a patch story actually had me interested in Dawntrail's story! I somehow liked Wuk Lamat the second she opened her mouth (her jp voice actor did great job!) and I like how she and Erenville play off of eachother. Only thing I'm bit sad is that Krile coming along seems to come with the caveat of having to leave G'raha behind (ig we don't have enough party slots left lol) but as long as SE plays nice and leaves him to stand around somewhere in the overworld so I can come and spam /dotes on him I won't mind too much.

What else.... uhhhh instance was fun, trial was way easier than expected (past couple of trials have been pretty healer heavy i guess?), Tataru quest was kinda nice, island sanctuary quest was okay too aaaaaand beast tribe quest was really cool! Mildly dissapointed we didn't get to do the race ourselves but ehhh, they clearly put a lot of effort into the cutscene. And emote is ofc great haha.

Last mentions go to Estinien being a stray cat and Urianger getting some nice new animations. I guess speaking behind the paper saved them the effort of animating his mouth but dang it made him look all coy and cool. Looking forward to what he and Thancred have in mind, since they seem eager to be against us this time.

Also also - seeing relic weps kinda makes me understand why they showed us the new area in the fanfest keynote lol, it'll be interesting to see some theorycrafting in the coming months.

Bonus screenshot: two of them (x2). Maybe I should dress Hawu'li in blue clothes so he and G'raha can be kitty versions of the twins lol

[exuvianen]

dating hc's with dr. ratio, aventurine + blade!

headcanons about what these hsr men do in a relationship witth you <3

cw: x reader, gn! reader (no physical descriptions), mostly fluff, sfw, headcanon style

notes: hsr brainrot… ahahaha... i hope i have a fairly good grasp on these characters and wrote them well. 

wc: ~1050 words, around 350 words per character. all under the cut!

feel free to drop an ask or to add on to my thoughts! likes + rbs are appreciated  <3

✎ Dr. Ratio:

He likes parallel play, or being alone together with you. He works on his own projects, like grading papers or writing a new thesis while you’re doing your own thing, like playing video games or reading. Occasionally, he might ask you for your input, such as ideas about his next thesis or what pose he should sculpt himself into next. 

He has a spare desk and chair for you in his office. You can choose to do work or entertain yourself there when you visit him and he’s still teaching a lecture, but feel free to take a nap on the plush sofa he bought just for you. 

He will nag you about your health but in an annoyingly endearing way. He fusses over you, telling you about appropriate attire for today’s weather, offering you an umbrella, and reminding you to drink water. 

He entertains all your ideas, no matter how silly or illogical. He’ll hear you out on anything you say, though he might have some very strong disagreements or objections to your ideas, especially if they are silly or completely nonsensical. However, he never turns you away when you bound up to him with a mischievous gleam in your eyes - he just sighs and prepares himself mentally to hear whatever goofiness comes out of your mouth. 

He’s your biggest cheerleader, supporter, and advocate. Though he may come off as intimidating, he is always willing to help advance your career or work. He has many connections and vast knowledge of the universe after all - why not utilize them for his beloved? 

He’s very good at dispelling any irrational thoughts in your head. If you’re panicking and your mind is disoriented, he’ll sit next to you and hold your hand gently, but firmly to ground you. He doesn’t speak at all when you vent out all your frustration, confusion, or anger - rather, he’s silently contemplative and then asks questions when you finish talking. He’ll indirectly guide you to a solution while gently calming you down as he dispels those pesky thoughts from your head.

He makes a custom alabaster head for you. 

♤ Aventurine:

A big fan of matching accessories and clothing. You don’t need to wear the exact same outfit, but he likes wearing complementary colors and jewelry to yours.

If you’d like, he’d be more than happy to bring you to casinos and public events with him. He wants to show off to you and let you witness his wit, talent, and skill like a peacock presenting its colorful feathers. 

He likes it a lot when you trace his skin through the spade-shaped hole in his outfit.

He hates the feeling of being vulnerable, but he likes being around you. This creates conflicting emotions inside of him. Oftentimes, he doesn’t know how to deal with it and just lurks by you. Pull him into a hug to quiet the voices in his head. 

He will send you packages or luxury items from the planets he’s visiting. You’ll be greeting a disgruntled Topaz or IPC soldiers at your door as they hand you various gifts ranging from limited-edition jewelry to flowers that bloom only once every 200 amber eras. He gifts extremely grand things, but he always knows how to find things that suit your tastes.

He’s a big spender on you. If you’re unused to the amount of money he’s willing to throw at you, he’s going to give you a lot of “exposure therapy” with his generosity. He’ll invite you to private auctions, lavish galas, luxury boutiques, and high-end jewelry stores. He’ll start filling your wardrobe with tailor-made clothes with the excuse that you should match his outfits when you attend formal events together, but his clothing contributions eventually infiltrate your closet pretty deeply. 

He enjoys being pampered and pampering you. Self-care nights are a must - as a representative of the IPC and one of the ten Stonehearts, he has to keep himself presentable and looking sharp, and that goes for his partner too! He’s more than happy to spend money to fund your trips to the salon or buy you any beauty products to use at home. He’d love to put on face masks together and share a drink or two with you. 

☠︎︎ Blade:

If you want to, and Elio’s script permits, he will bring you along on missions to safer planets. He’ll drop you off at a commercial district - feel free to go shopping or try out some novelty food while he wraps up his Stellaron Hunter business.

He likes getting his hair brushed. One of his favorite activities is sitting down and letting you comb through his hair after he cleans up from a mission. It’s an activity that leaves him vulnerable, but he doesn’t mind if it’s with you.

He’s an acts of service kind of guy. He moves to take your bags before you even say anything, holds open doors, and pulls out chairs for you. Brings you a cup of water and some fruit when you’ve been working for too long, and silently drapes his jacket over you when you shiver.

Tell him you like a certain pastry and he’ll show up every day and bring some. Show him a picture of a pretty flower and he’s boarding a spaceship to bring the flower to you personally. If you want something, he’ll do his best to get it.

He’s pretty quiet, but he’ll remember everything you say, what your preferences are, and what you like. He secretly writes it down in case his memory gets murky, and he’ll often reread his notes to remind himself.

He gives simple but traditional gifts to you, such as jade bracelets and pendants, and combs and hairpins if you have longer hair to wear or use them.*

He’ll treasure anything you gift to him. If you make an accessory for him, he wears it at all times. If your gift is small enough, he’ll stow it safely in his pockets and take it everywhere with him.

If family is important to you, he’ll send funds their way and ensure that they’re taken care of. 

As someone who’s often dead and then undead, his body can get stiff. He’ll enjoy it immensely if you massage him, and accompany him for his daily stretches and calisthenics. Even if you just hold him for a while, he finds that his muscles will relax from the warmth emitting from your body. Therefore, he quite appreciates having you physically near him.

* Combs, hairpins, Jade bracelets, and pendants were given as tokens of love and affection in Ancient China. These gifts have a deeper meaning/symbolism, but for the sake of post length, I did not write them all out. 

[splonk-fox]

The Chosen One's actions in Animator vs. Animation 11: A Mini Analysis

Recently, with the release of the latest Animator vs. Animation episode, I have seen many people begin to view Chosen's character in a more negative light. Now I can't lie and say that this episode doesn't exactly do him any favors, however I think people need to hold their horses a bit when it comes to assuming how he actually feels about the Newgrounds rampage.

First off, the big one, Mitsi's death. Chosen is framed to have been the one who killed her, and it's clear that Agent, and the narrative, believe it was him who did it. But if there's anything I've learned about red herrings, it's the fact that what seems like the obvious answer might not be so obvious after all. We don't actually know if Chosen was the one who killed her, all we see is a a flurry of fireballs raining from the sky, one of which hits Mitsi and completely incinerates her, then we see Chosen flying down from above. Considering that Dark is also shown to have flown in from above, it could've just as easily been him who killed her.

As a matter of fact, Dark would probably make more sense seeing as his most common form of attack is fireballs. Regardless of who did it or not, I do think it's important to remember that Chosen isn't the only culprit and that we shouldn't immediately assume it was him.

But let's say, for a moment, that Chosen was the one who did it, I still don't think that frames him in as negative of a light as the fandom portrays.

For starters I should say that we don't know how Chosen feels about what he has just done, at least not in this episode. However we see the exact same Newgrounds rampage from his perspective in Season 2, and there it's pretty clear that this is the point where he starts having second thoughts, and his body language in this episode actually reflects this.

When we first see him, Chosen is just sort of... calmly descending upon the destruction, there's no indication of what emotions he is feeling at this moment, but I honestly don't look at this and see "yeah, he definitely enjoys this"

His movements are slow and non-aggressive, there's no real energy in his actions, no sign of pride or enjoyment, he just sort of flies over the the Newgrounds tank and lands on top of it. To me this doesn't come off as someone who is enjoying this, this is coming off as someone who is taking in all the destruction around him and simply trying to process it. It's not positive, nor is it negative.

But I think the most telling thing about it is how his body language contrasts Dark, take a look at this shot. Notice anything?

For one, Dark is centered while Chosen is the one standing off to the side, portraying him as almost a secondary threat, a person standing alongside his much worse partner.

Moreso than this however, look at their poses. Dark has his hands on his hips, clearly taking pride in the much destruction he and Chosen have caused. Chosen by comparison is just sort of... standing there, there is no clear show of pride in his posture, as a matter of fact, this shot here almost reminds me of this one.

In both cases, Chosen is seen off to the side, staring down at the destruction while not showing any real emotion, and in this case, it was clearly trying to communicate that Chosen was not enjoying this as much as Dark was.

He's even seen seemingly pleading with Dark to stop what he is doing, and you wanna know something really interesting about this shot?

Chosen and Dark are both shown on top of a tank, just like we see in AvA 11. I'm not saying this is the same scene, but I am saying that the parallels here are likely not meant to be a coincidence. In both cases Dark is clearly taking pride in the destruction, Chosen meanwhile looks a lot more unsure.

Now for the high-five scene. People have already pointed this out but Chosen almost seems to hesitate before giving Dark a high-five, as if he's unsure about it.

Another detail I also wanted to bring attention to is how Dark initiates the high-five. It may seem small at first until you remember that this isn't the first time we have seen such a gesture between the two characters.

We also see this happen in The Flashback, and ya wanna know the interesting thing? Chosen was the one who initiated it. Keep in mind that the context of this seen was that Chosen finally escaped Alan's abuse and was clearly happy about it. It should also be worth noting that unlike Chosen, who took a few seconds to reciprocate the high-five in AvA 11, Dark does it almost instantly.

This is all to say, while this episode does not portray Chosen in the most favorable light, I don't think this is as simple as "he killed Mitsi and enjoyed it".

I want to make it clear that I do not think Chosen is innocent in this scenario, whether he enjoyed it or not, he still actively took part in this rampage, all I'm saying is that we don't really know Chosen's feelings during this moment or if he was even the one who killed Mitsi in the first place, and with how he was previously portrayed during this exact same rampage, I have more reason to believe that he didn't actually enjoy it at all. So before you raise your pitchforks and call Chosen the worst person ever, consider that maybe, there is more nuance to this story than first meets the eye.

[urfavrib]

Frost leads his emotionally unstable family in a meditation

(he does it one at a time for the sake of my own sanity)

Kremy

Frost and him do it first thing in the morning

its taken months of pushing to get Kremy to agree but he did

Frost in his tan linen shirt and charcoal grey pants, Kremy in one of Gideon’s Henley shirts and some loose pants. Both barefoot.

Kremy is grouching the whole time and Frost is already practicing his patience

Then finally Kremy and Frost lay in the grass eyes closed

The morning dew soaking into their clothes as Frost gently leads Kremy’s mind

They start with breathing

“Breathe in and out, slowly. Feel where your breath stagnates in your chest.”

Kremy doesn’t want to initially but Frost pushes in his mind and he does as he’s told

He breathes deep, expecting nothing

But it feels like the air sits heavy in his chest a sadness and anger swelling with his breath

“I can feel the anger and pain, breathe it out”

Kremy breathes out and then in. And out hard.

And for once it feels like there’s less of it.

Less weight on him

“Now do it again” Frost urged

They just sat there breathing

Sometimes that’s enough

Once Frost feels Kremy release some of the stress, and become more mindful of his breath and body, they call it quits

They never speak of it again

But every once in a while you’ll find Kremy laying in the grass breathing and Frost will keep you from interfering

———————

Gideon

Gideon struggles with PTSD flashbacks

Seeing the train around him and hearing it even clearer

And Kremy is only so good at handling them. he really tries but he’s not equipped for the situation

Frost noticed, like Kremy he’s smart but unlike Kremy he’s also in tune with the emotions of the Krew and can handle them

He asked Gid to go on a walk with him, one on one

They walked in silence for most of it till Frost asked him to do something

“Plant your feet, and look out. Tell me what are 5 feet things you see and two things you know about each”

Gideon did so, although confused

“Good 4 things you hear”

This continued, till at last Frost asked “1 things you can taste”

“Lunch” Gideon chuckled

“Do you feel more connected to here and now?”

He nodded and Frost smiled

“I want you to practice this with Kremy, tell him to count down 5 and give you the prompts i gave, i think he will be more successful in making this exercise effective”

It took lots of practice but Kremy and Gid seemed to get it

Since then when Gideon gets overwhelmed or distant you can hear Kremy counting slowly down from 5

———————

Gricko

Gricko and Frost started practicing meditation years ago

Gricko was genuinely interested in why Frost would just walk into the woods when he was overwhelmed and come back with a clear mind

So Frost taught him (he was just barely out of the order but teaching Gricko seemed so natural)

Frost was very aware that Gricko very rarely could sit still so he tried something else

a combo yoga tai chi meditation

He and Gricko stood face to face, barefoot in the grass about 3 feet apart

This was the first time Gricko saw Frost take off his robe, he made sure to note it but not say anything

Frost silently lead Gricko through the sun salutations and warrior poses before moving into the fluidity of Tai Chi

Focusing on their breaths, they seemed to reach a point where even though Gricko had never seen this kind of moment before, him and Frost were on the exact same page

Moving in time like a dance with a goal

They slowly picked up speed and when they stopped they both started laughing

They were sweaty but relaxed and felt very very very connected

The do it every time they feel the need to reconnect

Hootsie even joins in sometimes she’s not as adept but she tries and does a great job

——————

Torbek

Frost seems to constantly be aware of Torbek’s anxiety and seems to be able to feel when the other is pushing to be released

So one day when the sun is setting, dinner is over and everyone is shifting to go to bed Frost pulls Torbek aside to sit with him on watch

And at first they sit there in silence until

“Torbek, how many breaths do you think you take in a day?”

This conversation is strange and unprompted, but Torbek indulges Frost

“Torbek doesn’t know, what does Frost think?”

“A lot” he says simply

“Follow me i wanna try something”

And the walk just a bit off from camp so if they make noise it won’t wake the others

Frost drops his robe to the ground and takes off his shoes which Torbek’s jaw drops to the floor for (he’s never seen Frost without his shoes)

“sit let’s begin” Frost sits cross legged and look at Torbek to follow which he does

“close your eyes, and imagine an orb in front of you. you can choose the color the size but imagine you can hold it in one hand.”

Torbek does and a small Green orb appears in his mind (about the size of a large apple)

“Good, now put every negative thought into it.”

Torbek didn’t have to do much to have the other’s grating words of hate fill the orb till it turned from brilliant green to black

“Now listen closely to my words and watch the orb”

Frost said words of praise for Torbek, clearly, with a strong belief in what he was saying. And the orb slowly returned to brilliant green

“Do you see the power of thought? Now you try it let the negative thoughts come, and banish them with my words”

And Torbek did

He let the other say the horrid things he’d become so used to and the orb turned black

And then he took a deep breath and remembered Frost’s words

“Torbek you are kind. Torbek you are irreplaceable. Torbek you are valued above what you can do for others. Torbek you are part of our family. We couldn’t have made it this far without you”

And the orb returned to green maybe a more vibrant one from before even

“Frost that was amazing!”

Frost smiles that knowing smile

“Everytime you feel out of control or that you’re not good enough, fix your orb”

Torbek nodded

“Now go get some rest big day in the morning”

———————

Frost

when frost was first learning to meditate he was very young

easily distracted and excitable

The order was harsh on this

Punishing Frost every time he stepped out of line

But eventually with Frost under a specific master there was promise

The master didn’t hurt Frost when he got out of line just redirected him

He lead Frost through so many different types of meditation trying to find one that stuck

He found that playing a game mentally was the best way

So Frost and his master would play crowns while they meditated

his master expanded the board, made Frost play as every piece, he tried to use it to teach Frost the ability to cut his emotions for the purpose of strategy

But the thing with Frost is no matter how hard you push he is still a man of great emotion

But to practice meditation taught him time and place ( for the most part)

[siskissbee]

It's really funny finally getting into siscon/fauxcest with my sister-girlfriend because it really feels like the missing puzzle piece and like we were always meant to be sisters.

We look extremely similar and are very frequently mistaken for being sisters while out together. I have at least once been mistaken for her and on two separate occasions, old friends of my mom's who haven't seen me since I was a kid, pre-transition, have met her and wholeheartedly believed she was me. I also took a cute photo of her recently sitting next to one of my blood-siblings doing the same pose and it's kinda shocking to me that she almost looks more related to my siblings than I do.

I also have basically been living with her and her family for the last two years as part of their family. My gf moved back in with her parents and younger sibling during covid, before we were together, and since we don't have our own place yet I've basically soft-moved in and her family just treats me as one of their own. My gf and I have basically the exact same humor and so I basically hit it off perfectly with her family day-one and just fell into their dynamic and conversations as if I had always been there.

My girlfriend and I are basically just a single unit at this point, outside of work we are attached at the hip at practically all times and our families and friends have kinda just accepted this as the way we work. We almost never do anything apart. It's like we share the same brain cell and constantly have the same thoughts and reactions and emotions at the same time. We constantly will go to make the exact same joke or reference at the same time, even in conversations just the two of us, or someone will ask us a question and we will have the exact same reply delivered with the same timing and cadence. It's honestly kinda freaky lol.

It really feels like we're already as close and identical as two people could be without being blood-related so it feels just so natural and perfect and right to call her my sister. I just wish there were some way to actually make us truly blood sisters and we could've grown up together.

Has anybody else had a similar experience?

[justnatoka]

Hello!

I loved your Lost Boys fanfic “Letting Go”. It’s entirely alright if you don’t intend to write a second part but I would love to see one! Maybe she returns after a few years on the run after killing the hunter that had been after her. The boys stuck true to their word and waited for her the whole time. Maybe she quietly stalks around the boardwalk, trying to find a moment to talk to them but gets nervous since she left and they corner her? Those are just some ideas, pretty much just a slightly angsty fluffy reunion

No pressure and take all the time you need if you decide to write it

Hope you’re having an amazing day/night!

-W.P💚

Coming home

Poly! Lost Boys x GN! Reader

A/n: Thank you for sending this in! I was already thinking about writing a part 2 before I saw your request, so this gave me the extra motivation to sit down and just do it. I love reunion fics so much. They make me cry every time. Turns out, the same applies even if I'm the one writing them. I took some of your ideas, but decided to make the big reveal a lil different. ;)

Word count: 2.2k

Warning: slight angst, lots of fluff, lots of tears, lots of emotions

Summary: After years apart and the threat eliminated, you come back to Santa Carla, back to your boys.

Part 2/2

Previous part

You felt like you could faint. Wiping your palms on your pants for the hundredth time didn’t lessen the nervous shaking of your hands, it just made you look more ridiculous. Right now, however, you couldn’t care less about the side-eyes from random passersby. You had too much on your mind as it was. You were sure if you had still been alive, you would have had a heart attack from how fast your heart would have been beating in your chest. You took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to get a hold of yourself. But you had every right to be nervous.

You were standing at the entrance of the Boardwalk.

You were actually amazed how little this place has changed in the years you’ve been away. It was still the exact same type of people that stood in line for the rides, chatted around food stalls, got drunk and rowdy sitting around bonfires on the beach or danced at the stage. Santa Carla has kept her spirit that you loved so much. You couldn’t help the wide smile that stretched across your face at the familiar smells and sounds as you stood there, taking it all in for the first time in what felt like forever.

And you couldn’t help but wonder. Wonder whether you would find what – or who – you were looking for.

You wanted to believe that they kept their promise. It was that small hope that kept you going when you got tired of the chase, when all you wanted to do was lie down and give in to your fate. But you didn’t, and you came out on top. You still couldn’t believe you were finally free of the shadow that has been haunting you for decades, leaving destruction and grief and regret in his wake. Now, he was gone for good. You made sure of that. You had to be absolutely positive that the threat he posed was eliminated before coming back.

And now here you stood, shaking with nerves and anticipation like some silly teenager about to meet their crush, ready to see your boys again.

Your throat was tight and you felt like you couldn’t breathe – even though you technically didn’t need to – as you got lost in the crowd, letting your instincts guide you. You didn’t think about where you were going, you just followed this small feeling in your chest that seemed to get warmer and warmer as you went on.

Then a familiar sound reached your ears, and your stomach fluttered. You could have recognized that howling laugh anywhere. Marko. The following high pitched giggles brought a smile to your face. Paul. Oh how you missed that sound! You fastened your steps as the faint smell of cigarette smoke reached your sensitive nose. David. Then you finally caught sight of a tall frame with broad shoulders and luscious dark hair not far in front of you. Dwayne.

You reached the edge of the crowd, your steps halting in the shadow of a vendor’s stall. Eyes brimming with tears, you took a moment to take it all in. There they were, leaning against the railing separating the boardwalk and the sandy beach below. A hand flew up to cover the sobs threatening to spill from your mouth. They were still here. After all this time, they were still in Santa Carla.

You thought back to all those dark moments on the run when fear and doubt took over, a cruel voice in your head telling you that there was no way they would wait for you. Why would they? Many attractive people passed through town, and they could easily replace you with a pretty face. Hell, they could have moved on, found an entirely new place to settle down. On nights like these, you cried yourself to sleep, ready to give in to hopelessness. However, come the next nightfall, you always woke with new determination, desperately clinging to the promise you made them, and the one they made in return. All you had to do was return alive, and they would be there to welcome you back with open arms.

You let out a shaky breath as you looked on, not ready to reveal yourself just yet. You wanted to take a moment to just rest your eyes on them, drink in the sight of them, letting it warm a part of your soul that has been cold ever since you left.

It felt like your emotions were overflowing, just like the tears silently running down your cheeks as you watched Paul and Marko messing around, being loud and obnoxious as ever. You wanted to tackle both in a tight hug never to let go. David was leaning back, a small amused smirk on his mouth as he brought his cigarette to his lips, blowing out a lazy stream of smoke. You wished to kiss that smirk right off his face, inhale the smoke from his mouth, to drown yourself in him. Dwayne was waving at someone on the side, an easy smile stretching across his lips. You longed to bury yourself against his sturdy frame, to have him wrap his arms around you and surround you with the feeling of safety like he always did.

You were jolted from your thoughts as you saw two figures walking up to them, a girl and a little boy. You took an involuntary step back. It wasn’t just the four of them anymore like it was back then, there were others now, even though their scent made it clear that they were only half.

And you couldn’t help the tiny voice of doubt from speaking up in your head again. Did they replace you? Were you too naïve to assume they would wait for you even if they stayed in Santa Carla? Now you were suddenly happy that you didn’t reveal yourself right away. From the way they were interacting with each other, it didn’t seem like there was anything going on between the girl and the boys, although you couldn’t really be sure.

Not unless you walked up to them.

You stood there for a while, watching them, torn between your fear of what the reunion can bring and the desperate need to finally be in their arms again. They were so close, yet the distance felt enormous. Suddenly, taking the first step towards them was scarier than facing down the hunter who had been after you. If it was up to you, you might have stood there until the sun came up. But you didn’t have to make that decision in the end.

Funnily enough, it was a change in wind direction that eventually forced the situation to change. Just like all those years ago on the night you last saw your boys.

It was Dwayne who caught your scent first, his body stilling like a statue, eyes going wide as he started looking around. His brothers immediately noticed his mood change, concerned and confused faces turning stunned as he said something to them. Now they were all looking, recognition overtaking their features as they also realized what he has. They knew you were close now.

David’s gaze finally stopped in the direction of your hiding place. You felt like he was looking right at you, and a shaky breath left your lips. And it was as if he heard that little sound even over the loud chatter of the boardwalk, because in the next second your name spilled from his lips in a whisper, the longing in his voice overwhelming you. Now you were shaking again, with fresh tears falling from your eyes as you took a tentative step forward. Something was tugging you towards them, and you let it move your body.

As soon as you emerged from the shadows and they laid eyes on you, they were running. Your own feet felt like they didn’t touch the ground as you flew to them. Marko was the first to reach you, and he crashed into you with so much force, he almost took both of you off your feet. His fingers were gripping you so hard, you were sure there will be bruises on your skin, but you didn’t care. You clung to him just as desperately, burying your face into his hair as his shoulders shook.

You felt another body envelop you from behind, and your heart clenched as you listened to Paul openly sobbing against your neck. One of your hands let go of Marko only to wander into Paul’s hair, caressing the back of his head.

You took in their familiar scents as they surrounded you, ready to drown in them and you wanted to cry even harder, because it has been so long. There were too many emotions battling in you right now; relief over seeing them again, sadness over time lost, fear about what the future holds, overwhelming love for them. It was entirely too much, you felt almost paralyzed.

You didn’t know when Paul and Marko retreated, but then there was Dwayne standing before you, and there was only one emotion written on his face. Relief. A beautiful smile was stretching across his lips, and it was doing a fast job with erasing all your doubts and anxieties from earlier. It involuntarily caused the corner of your mouth to turn upwards, and now you were laughing as you threw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest, soaking him with your tears still running down your cheeks. He held you close, kissing the crown of your head.

“I knew you could do it,” he mumbled against your hair, and your heart swelled twice its size.

And then eventually there was David. You could swear his eyes were glossy as he took you in, but you decided to ignore it for his sake. All he had to do was open his arms in invitation and you slid into his familiar embrace.

“Welcome home,” he whispered into your ear. Those two little words were enough to finally throw all your remaining uncertainties away.

You drew back slightly, and did what you’ve been longing to do since you laid eyes on him. You captured his lips in a kiss filled with longing, with love, with joy. And the way he kissed back told you just how much he missed you, how lonely he has been without you.

When you finally broke away from him, you took a moment to just look at him, to let your eyes wander over his features. For so long all you had was memories of their faces, their smiles, their laughter, and now that they were finally standing right in front of you, you couldn’t get enough of them. You could look at them for hours. And from how they were looking at you, you could say the feeling was mutual.

The smile never felt Dwayne’s face, his gaze gleaming with silent joy. His hand was resting reassuringly on Marko’s shoulder, who was busy wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket.

“I’m okay, man, I’m okay,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse with tears.

Paul’s face was still wet, his eyes red from crying, but he beamed with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on him. You wanted to kiss him silly.

“God, I missed you guys so much,” you sighed, and it was followed by sniffles and wet chuckles.

“We missed you too, sugar,” Marko answered, his smile still shaky, having a hard time with composing himself, but he looked at you with so much adoration. It almost made tears well up in your eyes again.

“Come on, love, we have some introductions to do,” David gestured to the girl and the little boy, who have been watching the reunion from a distance. Her with a surprised, slightly alarmed and utterly confused expression, the boy with eyes full of curiosity.

While you were walking over to them, Marko’s hand slipped into yours. You gave him a little squeeze, reassuring him that you were here, and you weren’t going anywhere. The smile he sent back to you was much stronger than the last one, much more like his usual self.

Paul was hovering on your other side, his pinkie wrapped around your own. Even from that little contact, you could feel that he was buzzing with energy, wide grin still stretched across his face.

The boys introduced you to Star and Laddie. You were sure they’ve heard about you already, their eyes lighting up with recognition at your name. They were sweet, although still slightly bewildered from seeing all the emotional displays from the boys.

Going back to the cave at the end of the night was another emotional rollercoaster. It warmed your heart to see that not much has changed since you left, except for the addition of beds for the newest members of the pack. You almost started sobbing again though when you noticed that they kept the nest the five of you had shared. It looked used too, and you wondered whether they slept in there sometimes to catch a whiff of your lingering scent.

After Star and Laddie retreated to their own corners of the cave, the rest of you all piled into the nest. You’ve laid there for a while, basking in each other’s presence, sharing gentle kisses and words of affection.

You went to sleep with the feeling that, finally, everything was right in the world. The shadow that’s been plaguing you for decades was gone, and you were back where you were meant to be.

You were home. This is where you belonged; in the loving arms of your boys.

Tags: @stinkydove @pandemoniavenus @000-colby @lunarwhitewolf7 @notalwaysa @binightowl @darlingnikkisixxxx @skrimblo-blumpkgo @wpdarlingpan @gibzzsworld @thelostboysforeva @vxncevis @thelostsimp @swagfancroissantpizza2

Leave a comment on this post if you want to be added to my taglist!

[wanderingblindly]

I ask this with zero snark or judgment but pure curiosity: why do you write smut if you're a sex-adverse asexual? What about sex actually interests you and/or calls to you, and specifically, sex between men? If all sex repulses you, I would have expected gay smut to be the absolute last thing you would *want* to write.

Totally reasonable question! And I’ll answer this with the obvious caveat that this is going be elicit a different answer from all ace smut writers (and, as evidenced by the collection of them in my liquid.ace tag, there’s a lot of them).

First and foremost, I identify as queer — and I’ve always felt very removed from ideas of gender and sexuality. So it being “sex between men” isn’t entirely separate from me, as someone who does really…. Perceive gender a whole lot. I do typically prefer smut between men because it makes it easier to distance myself (someone who functionally moves through the world as a woman); it creates an entire fantasy that exists wholly away from how I perceive myself. To quote my irl bestie: LEAVE MY PUSSY OUT THIS.

As far as the smut— you’ll notice I write significantly more kink than I do traditional sex. That’s because I find it to be a really unique means of character and relational dynamic analysis. It’s interesting to me to pose the question of like…. If I shoved these two characters into one of the most intimate and vulnerable scenarios right now, how would they react? What would change between them? What would stay the same? How does it affect their dynamic in and out of the bedroom?

In fact, my approach to smut made it really hard to write smut in the context of a broader story; I knew how to write a pwp one shot, but didn’t understand how to integrate it into a “normal story”. I had a hard time understand how non-asexuals move between sex and not sex lol

There’s a lot of emotions and traits that can be best explored through high endorphin situations, which lends itself well to writing smut. That’s also why you’ll notice I tend to write smut from a more… sensory point of view rather than explaining the exact mechanics. I care less about how fast Oscar’s fucking lando and more about how they got there, what it’s doing to them, how they’re reacting, how they’re not reacting, etc..

Edit to add: lots of ace people, myself included, can find things hot (to our own extent) in the theoretical. Ace people can have fantasies about sex, conceptually, without wanting to engage in it themselves. It’s a pretty complex sexuality! I’d implore you to go through my tag if you have some other questions 💖💖

[your-absent-father]

Children in writing: my personal pet peeves

Okay, some might know that I work as an elementary school aid, done it on and off since I was 19, so I have the credits lol. Last december I even got my trade school papers for it. I preface this this way bwcause I have worked with shitton of kids, and will in a future. My background also means that I am very quick to notice when people don't interact with kids that much.

Even the savant syndrome kid is still a kid

One thing that annoys the hell out of me is when the 8 year old smart kid character acts like a 32 year old with all the emotional cababilities it entails. Yes, some kids have an higher intelligence, emotional or otherwise, but in the core of them, they are a kid. They get temper tantrums, they are in awe of new discoveries, they love to play in their own way.

For example, the class I'm in now, we have a kid I will call James. James is raised by his grandparents and it shows in everything he does. He is an old soul, always getting striaght As and almost helping the adults in conflicts. James also giggles as I race with him during recess, he sulks like a kid after not getting what he wanted and laughs really hard at fart jokes. He is 8 even if he has an emotional intelligence of an older kid.

Children are sponges, in bad and good

Speaking of James, he is a great example of children being sponges. This 8 year old, he uses terms like "gosh darn it" or "welp, it is what it is", terms I could see his farmer grandpa using. When he is stressed, he poses like a 73 year old looking at a broken tracktor. You can see his grandpa in him clearly.

I want to say it because a lot of people only write like "I am bad because my dad was bad" characters, even though it isn't that simple moat of the time, and children being sponges could be used in so many different ways, and not just bad.

Kids knowing big words doesn't always mean they are smart

This adds into the "kids are sponges" segment. Lot of kids, especially now, pick up different words, some very difficult, but they themselves don't know what they mean. Just today I had to explain what a dictator meant to a kid talking about North Korea. (That is an other thing too I like to add: kids try to explain with their own understandkng of the world what things they don't understand are)

Children's are adults in progress

Thus is a thing that peeves me the most of all, because a lot of people think children are thing entire different entity than adults. I like to explain it in videogame logic, like as a kid you are doing the first levels and progressing trough. You still the same character at the core of it, you just leveled up and got new tricks up your sleeve. Children are humans, they aren't that difficult to comprehend.

kids with disabilities have presonalities

Omg I am such a passionate person towards this, especially because I am specialized in special ed. It annoys me in no end when a special ed kid's presonality is "ehh they are disabled?". Every single special ed kid I have been with have different personalities and likes and dislikes, if they can't show it to you themselves. I don't think I have met two disabled kids (nor adults) with same personalities, even if they have exact same disability.

In the class I am in now, James's best friend is this kid named Jackie. I don't know Jackie's diagnosis but she can't walk straight, and uses multiple walking aids when her legs hurt too bad. She can't talk very well, struggling with her speak. Still, those things weren't the first thing I'd use to describe her. I'd describe her as a dramaqueen, always ready to complain about something, i'd describe her as a sporty, always running after her friends, even if she is much slower than others. I'd describe her as kindhearted, and clingy as she is always ready for a hug. Her disability is n intergal part of her but not everything.

I could complain about this all day. I have worked with kids and adults with disabilities and they have all been do different from each other (like able bodied people). Maybe another post lol.

Okay rant over.

Tldr: Chldren are humans too. Lol

[deepdreamnights]

Vidu 2.0 - First Reactions

I am in the Vidu Artist's program, so I've had a chance to play with version 2.0 before the official launch on the 15th. What I'm working with is a pre-launch build, and has improved day-to-day, so this may not reflect the final release.

I haven't yet had a chance to give it the full paces-run-through it deserves, but here's some early samples, and early thoughts. (Converted to GIF because you can only upload one video per post.)

The short version is that everything has been incrementally improved: Better coherence, better prompt responsiveness, better motion, and way, way better speed. Without doing exact time-tests it's say it's at least 25% the time to generate a video of the same dimensions.

While there's still some of the "smudge-blurring" that you got with 1-1.5, it happens less frequently, and is more mitigated with an image/animation that match.

Motion varies gen-by-gen, but impressive results seem to be the norm.

While his sticks are somewhat flexible at full framerate, the cat drummer's cymbal hit struck me as particularly nice.

Control and Coherence

While the roar may not seem particularly impressive, roars, howls, and other emotional outbursts didn't work well in previous versions. Aunt Acid's fumes and drips are are particularly fun, and while it still has problems with her tail, PteroDarla's crest and wings are actually working the way they should (after a number of attempts).

For a long time, I've wanted the last shot of the TMax opener to be Max starting with a zoom-in on the eye going out to a roar and pose. While this isn't quite where I want it, 2.0 is the first time I've gotten him to go through the whole sequence. Which is promising.

Weird Stuff Works

What remains impressive about Vidu is how well it handles concepts and characters that are off-the-beaten-path. Hailuo just released a character consistency feature that only works with humans, but here...

Here's my friend Cole's OC, the Waffler (Intergalactic Bounty-Hunter.) He's one unbalanced breakfast. He's also rather resistant gen AI replication because he's an SD space man with a waffle for head, a very specific waffle for a head turned at a 45 degree angle. Vidu 1.0 wasn't able to work with him, almost always giving him a mouth or rotating his waffle, if not completely glitching out. 2.0 is much better to handle it.

The numerous dino-anthros above are all in the "Tricky for AI" box. If I was into doing what could be gened easily, however, I'd just be pumping out an endless parade of pillowy waifus.

In my defense, I classify SexBomb as more of a 'strifu'. This particular one was an attempt to see if a toony image prompt could be rendered live-action with text prompting. Long story short it can't, but it can produce some interesting effects like the faux-posterized background.

I've had AI gen close to her costume before, but it never adds the fuse or does the boob-window right, and here we are.

One of my old bits of Transformers fanart of the Pretender Monster Icepick served as the character model for the one on the right.

Fantastical Creatures in general are a lot easier to execute in this version as well.

And... Action!

Motion is a lot more natural this time around.

Weapons fire (though sometimes a bit literal) tends to come out of the barrel semi-consistently now, characters can fight the waves without melting themselves and...

A giant rubber monster can eat your protagonist (if you're lucky.)

Quirks and Flaws

Nothing is perfect, and all AI you see is curated. So lets talk areas to be improved.

A lot of stuff presently generates with multilingual gibberish captions sometimes, which I expect is an early model bug. Versions 2-3 of Midjourney would have similar artifacts, and that sort of thing isn't hard to correct for.

There are still issues with blurring/smudging, especially with things like tail-tips, hands, and any motion the robot doesn't quite get.

Sometimes stuff shapechanges or appears that ought not to, like the knight's floppy second blade.

Or speed gets off requiring being fixed in post.

And stuff just goes dumb sometimes, which one should expect (and in my estimation, desire) from any generative system, artificial or analogue. Should the water go on the fire rather than the firemen? Yes. Do I regret this gen? No.

One quirk of the system is how it resolves incongruous multi-prompts. I've been accustomed to Midjourney, which, when generating an image must blend everything requested. You can put two completely different backgrounds in as image prompts and it will blend them into something new and wacky.

Vidu resolves problems like having two background images at once by taking advantage of the 4th dimension. Confuse the robot too much and it will just cut/fade from one idea to the next.

And then there's stuff that just happens, like, a shot being perfect except a painted (and thus ought to be static) background object animating beautifully (going retro is a path wrought with irony) and the robot deciding it'd rather do CG-style than 2d.

And while it doesn't show up great in the gif of Max at the construction site there, 2.0 is more vulnerable to interpreting bad transparency-clipping as part of the character design, so be careful if you're using transparent PNGs.

Also, if you slap a character and a background together without elaborating on the setting with the text prompt, it will often slap the background back there as a static backdrop and produce a very "greenscreen-y" effect.

Rather than laden this post down with more animated GIFs, I'll be setting up a batch of them as posts for the upcoming days. At least, that's the plan.

[insaniquariumfish]

Transwomen cannot be true feminist allies because they do not believe that femininity itself is inherently patriarchal, degrading, and unnecessary. IF they are in any way critical of femininity (which is rare), their only issue with it is that it is too strongly expected of women; they frame femininity as "something women should be allowed to choose if they want to," and not as something that is harmful to women in nature by default, whether they choose it or not.

They do not acknowledge the fact that a woman can only "choose" to be feminine in the same sense that someone raised in an extremely religious area can "choose" to be religious. Women are conditioned from birth to be feminine, told that their value as human beings is dependent on their ability to embody femininity, and if they are not feminine then they are punished for it and suffer for it. To frame this as a free and neutral choice is to deny the nature of what femininity is: something that is forced upon women, a tool invented and wielded by patriarchy to aid in the oppression of women and the empowering of men. And even if there were no longer any pressure from men for women to be feminine, the history of femininity, the centuries of suffering that women have been forced to endure in the name of femininity, why it was created, what purpose it is meant to serve, who it is meant to harm and who it is meant to benefit, none of those realities would be changed.

To trans women, femininity is essential to womanhood, and to be critical of femininity is to be critical of the very means through which their identity as a trans woman manifests. The idea of doing away with the association between womanhood and femininity poses an existential threat to them, especially to those who struggle to "pass," because how else can they signal their womanhood to the world, or affirm their womanhood to themselves, if they do not physically look like women and do not have female bodies?

They claim that they simply must be hyperfeminine, that they have no other choice, because for them to be gender nonconforming would result in them being mistreated and taken less seriously and struggling more in life. Well guess what, cis women face the exact same consequences for refusing to perform femininity. And masculine cis women do not have a panic attack every time they are misgendered, because they are secure in the knowledge that no amount of people not perceiving them as women can change the fact that they are women. Trans women claim to believe this themselves, that their womanhood exists independently of what they look like or how they dress or how they are perceived by others, but they do not act like this is the case. They act like validation that they are "feminine enough" matters more to them than the actual state of existing as a woman. They revel in femininity, find ecstasy in femininity. They cling to it with a vise like grip, embody the hyperfemme in as many ways as possible, and in doing so they only reinforce and perpetuate the idea that to be a woman is to be pretty, that to be a woman is to be dainty, adorned, coquette, frivilous, petty, bubbly, emotional, demure, submissive, stupid, sexy, slutty, an open mouth, an expectant asshole.

[kamotecue]

i wish you would’ve cheated ★ o. batlle

pairing: ona battle x reader

summary: you wish you could hate her, but how could you—when there wasn’t anything that she had done wrong.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

you were her blessing in disguise, the italian who the spanish defender had fallen for. everyone who knew that the two of you were in a relationship thought that you’d both last—but little did they know, they were wrong.

the break up wasn’t as horrible as you expected, you quite frankly understood why—as you both had the same profession. rivals to lovers, is what the team who tease you.

you played for manchester city, while she played for the rival team, united. you were a forward, so you’d often clash with her near the goal post.

you had always collided on the field, ona being a defender—she would try to disallow your goals. and she did, four of them to be exact. the amount of times she gave you a soft smirk, or a cheeky grin.

you laughed at the memory, as you softly hummed to yourself. although it was a healthy break up, there were thoughts at the back of your mind.

i wish you would’ve cheated

as much as you supported her decision, you wished that she had cheated—so, it would be easier for you to move on. but how could you hate her? she always gave you a soft look, or used her fingers to brush a strand of hair that went in front of your eyes.

and smashed my heart to pieces

if she had smashed your heart to pieces, things would be different. you wouldn’t find yourself wanting to be with her again, the sense of longing that you feel in your chest—and the act of wanting to hold her in your arms.

you’d also provide a reason for hating them, something you didn’t have.

i wish i had a reason i could hate your guts for leaving

you hated it so much—that the breakup was healthy. growing up, you were around people who didn’t treat their significant other properly. and now that you experienced a healthy one, you were in disbelief rather.

but you couldn’t hate her, no matter how hard you tried.

i wish you were the villain, a psycho with no feelings

if she was the villain of the story, someone free from emotions or remorse, moving on would’ve been quite easier than it is.

but you’d often find yourself remembering the soft smiles she’d give you, or when you danced in the middle of the rain—and she’d stay underneath the cover calling you.

“y/n, you’re going to get sick.” she called out underneath the cover that had protected her from the rain. you simply gave her a soft smile, before twirling in the rain—laughing as you knew you would get sick and she’d have to take care of you.

but a soft smile was worn on your face, as she hummed before placing down her bag. her phone was placed on the windowsill of the building, a video had started.

“come join me, amore.” your italian accent was shown, as she contemplated but you had dragged her with a pull.

“n/n!” she gave you a surprised shout as you laughed before kissing her cheek softly. the two of you had danced in the rain, getting sick was definitely worth it.

so how do i move on—when you did nothing wrong?

but you acknowledged that she did nothing wrong, which made it difficult for you to reconcile the longing had—for the closure with the reality of circumstances that was on-going.

you looked around to see polaroids of the two of you, a bright smile was shown on your face as you posed for a picture—but she was caught staring at you.

[bonny-kookoo]

Yoonkook x Reader

Touch-Starved [Main Story]

Yoongi has a crush on you, but is convinced you're not interested in him. You have a crush on Yoongi, but are sure that he'd never like you if he knew your secret. Jungkook has a crush on you but won't admit it to anyone, and you have a crush on Jungkook, but you think you know that he'd never see you as a possible partner, because he knows your secret. It's all just such a mess. How could you ever sort this out?

Tags/Warnings: Wolf!Bangtan, Wolf!Jungkook, Wolf!Yoongi, Dog!Reader, Puppy!Reader, DDLG aspects and themes, no judgement allowed here, non-sexual regression!!!, none of those themes are sexualized in this work, hurt and comfort, major fluff but also lots of angst and insecurity, friends to lovers

Length: idk long didn't count

-> Masterlist

There is no taglist for this fic.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Yoongi is not good at things like affection, or relationships at that.

He easily turns red as bright as a spanked ass whenever he has to try and compliment someone he's even just remotely romantically interested in, or he will otherwise simply not find the courage to do it at all. Backhanded compliments are a regular thing with him, his character not allowing him to show someone he cares without implying that he doesn't- a trait that he hates about himself.

He'd learned it from his father, making him even more upset since he never really got along well with that man in the first place. Yet the more he thinks about it, the more it seems like his family history will just repeat itself, and he will find himself in a marriage simply created because of convenience, not love.

He cringes at that, throwing the rest of his sandwich away. His appetite has been long gone anyways.

The reason of his foul mood is in the dorm currently, sitting comfortably on the couch playfully wrestling with Jungkook over a pack of chips he can't identify from his spot.

He hates Jungkook sometimes.

He's always pictured as a shy boy, yet he's actually the exact opposite - easily likable, charming, and most of all- he's your age. The maknae and you are merely half a year apart in age, and he can see why you get along with him. He is a nice person, with his bright smile and large eyes, talented, strong, and likes video games as much as you do.

Yoongi himself does play some games to a small extend, however, he rather buries himself in his work, losing sense of time whenever music is involved.

Overly confident is not how he would describe you- you are simply uncaring of trends of the masses. You don't crave to stand out like Taehyung does, you rather enjoy simply living for yourself and what makes you happy no matter what people would think of your 'goals'. You love stuffed animals and soft colorful things no matter how childish it might make you look. You rarely take selfies of yourself, and never really pose much in images- you just smile, simple as that.

God that smile. If there is an emotion for hate and love at the same time, he is constantly feeling it when it comes to you.

Yoongi wants to be close to you as well, maybe even the closest if he is honest, yet he doesn't know how the hell he is supposed to do that. You both rarely text- he is too unsure if he can, since he is only in a groupchat with you, and only got your ID from Hoseok, who gave it to him in case Yoongi needs to text you something important. You rarely visit him in his studio, but then again, he never told you you'd be welcome anytime. Every small thing he does for you he either brushes it off as nothing speci¹al, or sometimes even tells you that he didn't do it, but one of his members, claiming that he has no Idea what you are talking about. You also show absolutely no interest in him whatsoever.

Which makes his embarrassing crush on you all the more awkward.

He's Min Yoongi for god's sake! He could have anyone if he really tried, if just for his fame and wealth and status as a full blooded Wolf-Hybrid coming from a 'clean' bloodline- yet he is stuck with you, the tiny dog hybrid who sees him as a friend only- if even that at all.

"Yoongi! Finally leaving your wife in there to join us in being social for once?" Seokjin remarks with his signature laugh following, making you chuckle as well.

"Don't be mean Jin." You softly scold the oldest. "Yoongs works hard in there." You look over your shoulder, one of your floppy ears unfolding while you smile that goddamn smile at him- not huge, not a smirk, simply a nice friendly gesture towards him, curled tail wagging a little.

The nickname doesn't make it better.

He hates nicknames, however, he could definitely keep living with your cute versions of his first name any day of the week. He wants to answer you, give you a verbal response, yet all he can bring himself to do is a shrug of his shoulders.

What the fuck.

But you only playfully hold your heart, falling into Jungkooks lap with a dramatic sigh. "Ah, always so cold-!" Which makes the guys laugh, and himself involuntarily smile to himself. He sits down, managing to actually place his ass next to you on the couch without instantly retreating for once. You bravely put your legs over his lap, and his mind is beginning to form the same amount of error messages like his PC system the last time he spilled his iced americano over his MIDI-board.

Yet he only grunts on the outside, and takes his phone out to search for something.

You chuckle, mumbling a sorry under your breath and move to slide your legs off of him again, but his unused hand stops them, shifting them back. His fingers are touching the small patch of bare skin on your calf between your leggings and fluffy sock that had slid down a little- and he has to use all of his self-control not to burst into flames.

He's never really had any very close contact with you, and always imagined what your skin may feel like- as creepy as that sounds. The smile he can see you forming from the side of his view makes him relax, as well- the first sign spotted that he might have some sort of effect on you. Taehyung makes a noise, but is silenced by namjoon who pulls him into a conversation to avoid embarrassing the producer, well aware of his own personal dilemma with you. He is the only one who really knows of his feelings towards you- having told yoongi that you actually feel the same way, yet a bit different. You are, according to namjoon, scared to overstep boundaries with Yoongi, worried that he may snap at you like he did a few months back.

There's that certain feeling whenever you do something stupid and then want to apologize, but you miss the chance and now weeks after it's just awkward, so you don't mention it, while also having to deal with the consequences daily.

Yeah. He still thinks of that moment he'd yelled at you sometimes at the most random of times, cringing internally at it. He'd been stressed with the new Album he wanted to put out, having been stuck on one song, and you had just turned up at the wrong time. You didn't cry or anything like that, you simply apologized for opening his studio without knocking, and left with your tail tucked between your legs. Since then however you'd become a bit more distant with him, more careful, and less touchy than you were with the rest of the pack.

He knows you're a sucker for skinship and cuddling, especially as a dog hybrid who's grown up in a carecenter between many other hybrids, yet you also respect if someone wants space. He loves how much attention you pay to your surroundings, eyes always wide open- you remember things for a long time, and you are able to keep track of so many things at once- yet he's also seen your apartment, a glimpse of your more raw personal side that you tend to keep close to yourself. You're a chaotic person, and he doesn't know how you find anything on that desk of yours.

You struggle to keep track of chores and your own health sometimes, yet you try hard, he knows that. And that makes him feel such an extreme need to make sure you're always happy and taken care of, that he's the one to take care of you.

"Oh, YOONGI!" You suddenly gasp at him, and he raises his eyebrows, looking at you as you move around a bit, your hands searching in your sweater pocket for something. "I actually cleaned up my apartment yesterday, and I found this. I think I borrowed it sometime ago, but lost it- sorry for that again by the way, won't happen again I promise!" You say, showing him a black and silver USB stick, your curly tail wagging in excitement.

You're right, that is his. He actually had forgotten about it.

"Took you long enough." He simply says and takes it from you to put it in his own pocket, seconds later cringing at his sentence. He could've definitely phrased that better, or maybe even simply thank you for giving it back even after all this time. Yet the timeframe of saying thank you without making it seem weird or out of place is already overstepped now, so he has to suffer.

Jungkook chimes in instead.

"I helped her get some order back into that place. Poor puppy had been so stressed with work that she couldnt keep up anymore." He says, laughing along with you, and Yoongi lets a chuckle of his own slip. But instead of telling you what a good job you did, or any praise he really wants to tell you, he only pats your leg gently two times, running his thumb over your calf for a second, internally imprinting into his mind how soft your skin is.

You however beam at this, visibly feeding off of his small gesture like a touch starved pet- and he can't help but find it cute.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

A knock on his door makes him look at it, giving a verbal response in a low "Hm?", as he hears your voice from behind it.

You're not really saying anything, just a sound of confusion and discomfort escaping you from behind the door, and he can slowly hear your slippers softly moving away, when he gets up from his chair to open his door to see you stop to look at him. You're standing in front of him with wide eyes and lowered ears, one of them being pulled on by your hand as he can hear the rest of the pack laughing in the main living room of the dorm. He chuckles at that, waving you into his studio, making him and yourself smile. You thank him somewhat quietly, and go to sit down on his small couch he has inside his studio, laying down so your feet still touched the ground as to not overstep any unspoken rules he might have.

Yoongi however walks up to you, and puts your feet up for you, grabbing a spare blanket from besides the couch, something he always kept here since he sleeps in his studio quite often. You thank him quietly for that, the soft buzzing of his studio PC and the nice air conditioning already helping your fuzzy head a lot.

Jumping over your shadow and coming here was a good idea after all, it seems like.

Yoongi sympathizes with you when it comes to headaches- and it's clear from your behavior that you probably have one, which could also explain why you don't really talk, since it probably hurts. Due to the fact that he seems to solely survive off of caffeine and a cup of instant ramen smashed in between his busy schedule, he gets them more often than he would like to admit. Yet he also remembers how you'd told him once how easily your headaches evolved into migraines if you weren't careful, so he is mindful to help you in avoiding that this time. He digs around in his mind for any small excuse to talk to you, yet ultimately decides against it, thinking it would probably be better for you to have as much silence as possible.

He wonders what your secret is.

Namjoon had mentioned something you kept secret 'for a reason', but he wouldn't tell the producer what it could be, not even a hint. You hopefully know that nothing could ever really make Yoongi see you any different than he does right now.

Except maybe murder- but he doubts that that's what you're hiding.

He also knows that Jungkook is aware of it too. Maybe you both are a couple? He does sleep over sometimes after all, seems to be awfully good with calming you down whenever you're anxious or panicking. It's like the young wolf is aware or something Yoongi isn't, able to manage you when you're becoming restless about things.

Another knock is heard. Yoongi attempts to call out- but gets up to walk to the door instead so he won't shout and worsen your headache. It's Jungkook- because of course it is.

"Hey- is- oh, there she is. I was wondering where she went " jungkook says, entering after the rapper walks aside, silently giving him permission to come in. "Hey- everything okay?" Jungkook wonders softly to you, and you quietly shake your head, whining slightly to yourself before you pull down your ears once more over your eyes, clearly signaling your headache to him as well. "I told you to drink more, puppy. Come on, let's get you home." He gently says, helping you sit up.

"She can just nap here, I don't mind." Yoongi offers- but there's something in Jungkook's eyes that seems oddly suspicious as he looks for an answer inside his head it seems like.

"Ah, I'll rather take her home, but thanks hyung." He tells him, averting his gaze as he instead occupies himself with you who's silently reaching out for him, clinging onto him as he picks you up, showing clearly how used to it both of you are. Jungkook holds you almost effortlessly, while you're instinctively laying your head on his shoulder, arms around his neck.

Yeah, you're probably a couple, and you just don't want to say it out loud.

"You know, you could just tell everyone." Yoongi grumbles more or less as he opens the door for the two of you, Jungkooks wide eyes looking at him. "No one's gonna get mad or something if you told them." He shrugs, and Jungkook looks around for a second, on edge. "You're together, right?" He asks, and Jungkook shakes his head- though with a hint of shyness in his face.

"Ah no- hyung.." He sighs. "I'll- she'll explain when she's ready okay?" He says, as you whine into his neck. "I have to bring her home now- thanks for looking after her!" He says already walking away-

leaving Yoongi confused.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Jungkook honestly wishes you and him were a couple.

But life doesn't work like this, and sadly, you're not into him like that. You see him as a comfort person, a packmate and a friend- but nothing more than that. He remembers when he first 'caught' you in the midst of regressing in your home-

the whole apartment a mess, cluttered and absolutely disorganized.

You're one of only three percent of dog hybrids that fall into a different headspace when stressed or overwhelmed. It's not something you can control, and neither is it a trauma response- it's just nature playing a cruel joke on you, making your mind shut down to a certain degree to protect you. It's like your brain is overprotective- trying to shield you from all potential mental harm.

But all of that comes with a lot of issues and troubles, such as difficulty holding a job, or simple things such as keeping your apartment clean.

Jungkook remembers how terrified you were of him finding you in your messy apartment- having had to calm you down for a good hour or so before he could even attempt at helping you clean up and take care of your needs. He's not sure why you're so adamant on hiding it from the rest of the pack- but he's got an idea.

Dog hybrids with your condition are alienated, isolated, judged terribly. And you're probably terrified of being cast out of the pack for it, leaving you alone and without anybody.

Your personal nightmare.

So he just instead has decided to take care of you, and wait until you feel ready to tell someone else. You deserve happiness and the feeling of safety and comfort, but he can also understand that you're worried of how it'll be taken by the rest of the guys.

And yeah, he also gets to be a little selfish himself when he's got time with you like this. He gets to live out a little dream here and there, where you're actually his to love. Because he does love you, to the moon and back- and he knows his heart will surely break a little one day when you find someone to give your own heart to, instead of him.

So he takes these moments for himself, and enjoys those daydreams for now, until he has to wake up.

"There we go, that's already better isn't it?" Jungkook hums after he'd taken out your hairtie, fingers massaging the spot where it had been pressing against your scalp for the past few hours. You hum in agreement, nodding against his shoulder while you move a bit to get comfortable on his thighs.

You don't even know that you almost exposed your secret to Yoongi of all people- the one wolf of the pack you've got a crush on.

Everyone kind of knows it, everyone also knows about his crush on you as well- though you seem rather talented in finding excuse after excuse as to why that can't be true. Jungkook knows your main fear is what you're right now- and that Yoongi could find you appalling, or childish, or anything else negative that could come to your mind.

And Jungkook can't say he doesn't understand your fear- because he does.

"You're gonna get all stiff if you nap like that." Jungkook chuckles, patting your back a little, making your curled tail wag happily. "Don't be a brat now. Come on, we'll take a nap on the couch, yeah?" He hums. You whine. "No? Not a nap?" He wonders, but you nod now. "Okay, yes to a nap, no to the couch?" He navigates, laughing when you nod now, tail wagging. "Puppy if we nap in bed you'll sleep for hours though." He sighs.

But you simply wiggle out of his lap, before you run to the bedroom-

The wolf hot on your heels, when your doorbell rings.

When Jungkook opens the door, it's Yoongi- the producer holding up a jacket. "She left it at the dorm." He informs Jungkook, who reaches out to take it- though Yoongi holds it back. "I'd like to give it to her myself-"

"You can't." The younger wolf denies, panicking a little when he hears something jingle, and feels the toy hit his back softly, fabric ball tumbling to the ground, bell inside the cotton filling the cause of the noise. Jungkook closes the door a bit more now to keep you out of sight. "Just- uh, she'll grab it tomorrow-"

"Her phone and purse are in the pockets." Yoongi says. "I'm sure she'd like it back right now." He challenges, and Jungkook can feel himself squirm uncomfortably under the strong gaze of his packmate, having to avert his gaze. "What's really going on?" Yoongi asks, as the toy hits Jungkook's back again.

"Look, this is really bad timing right now-" Jungkook whines as he kicks the toy back with his food go occupy you at least for just a second to give himself more time to think of an excuse. "-She's.. not feeling well right now." He tries to justify.

"Jungkook you're not being very convincing right now." Yoongi sighs. "What the fuck is going on? Does she hate me?"

"NO!" Jungkook barks, before he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Ah.. God, fuck, alright." He sighs, defeated, letting the door slowly open more, while he turns around to throw the soft fabric ball towards where you sit on the floor, toy flying over your head, making you flop onto your back as you try to catch it.

You don't even realize it's Yoongi who's now in the doorway whole Jungkook sits in front of you to start a game of tug-of-war with the soft llushy toy with you, successfully pulling your attention away from the producer who just silently enters the apartment, and closes the door behind him before he hangs up your coat.

It takes him one good look to realize what's going on.

The hazy look in your eyes. The way you don't even greet him, rather occupied with the game Jungkook plays with you. Your almost clumsy way of movement.

"So that's the secret?" Yoongi hums as he sits down near his packmate, watching you with an unreadable expression.

Jungkook nods. "She's scared of anyone finding out." He reveals, while he watches you now nibbling on his finger instead of the toy, before you yawn.

"Why?" Yoongi wonders. "It's not like it's her fault or choice." He mumbles.

"Yeah, I know." Jungkook shrugs. "But I get it, you know? You hear horror stories about it all the time. Friends and family being weirded out and stuff." He explains, and Yoongi grows quiet.

It really is understandable.

"So that's why you sleep over so much?" He asks, and the younger wolf nods.

"She used to be triggered easily since she didn't have a person to rely on." He explains. "But when I took on that.. role, I guess, she became more stable. It doesn't happen so randomly anymore, she's got more control over it. Today was just a bad day I guess." He shrugs.

"She must be tough to handle." Yoongi mumbles.

"Not really." Jungkook denies. "She's very sweet. The beginning was hard, yeah, but mostly because I didn't know what to do. These days it's become easier." He nods to himself, though Yoongi doesn't miss the look on his friend's face.

"You love her." He states.

And Jungkook only nods.

"I do." He agrees. "It's hard not to."

Yoongi hums in agreement, and Jungkook wants to be swallowed by the ground. Now that the producer knows, he'll take over the care of you- you'll grow closer, emotionally and physically, and you'll no longer need Jungkook to care for you.

His dream is ending, and he hates it.

"She loves you too." Yoongi offers. Jungkook laughs a little.

"Situationally, yeah." He nods.

"No, in general." Yoongi argues, but he can't seem to push through the thoughts of Jungkooks mind, the wolf having already decided his stance on things. "Jungkook.."

"You'll take good care of her, right?" He asks, looking at his packmate with round eyes that try hard not to let any tears fall. "You'll make sure she doesn't have to.. feel ashamed, or bad, right?"

"I'm not taking her away from you." Yoongi shakes his head, and Jungkook nods.

"I know you're not." He says, trying hard to keep it together even as you crawl into his lap to comfort him, sensing his distress.

"She was never mine to begin with."

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

You're absolutely mortified when you're informed of what happened- or rather when you connected the dots yourself, after waking from your nap with both wolves next to you in bed.

One look exchanged with Jungkook signals to him that you've pulled yourself out of your headspace- body shaking now with the overwhelming sense of shame you're feeling as Yoongi sits up now as well to look at you with a sense of worry.

"Hey, it's fine." Jungkook reassures easily. "He doesn't hate you or anything, he's cool with it."

"Oh god this is so weird.." you hide your face in your hands, embarrassed by the events unfolding like this.

"Its not. It makes sense, really." Yoongi shrugs. "So this is why you don't want to move into the pack dorm with us?" He wonders, and you nod.

"Its weird. You can say that, I know myself that it is." You sigh.

"You're not weird." Jungkook shakes his head, taking your hand to reassure you. "Promise."

"I agree. This isn't weird, it's something that happens to some." He shrugs. "I still like you." He says without thinking, as you slowly look at him.

"You.. do?" You wonder, and he nods.

"Very much." He smiles a bit awkwardly, when Jungkook let's go of your hand, clearing his throat.

"I'll.. I'll see myself out then." He mumbles, and at that your head snaps towards him.

No- he can't leave like that. Yoongi might've..somewhat confessed, but you still need him. You still want him here.

Wait.

If Yoongi likes you, and toy like him back, and that leads to you Noth becoming partners, that's great. But if that means you can't have Jungkook, you don't want it. You need jungkook.

You love jungkook, too.

"Hey, Yoongi will stay with you, you're not alone anymore-" He tries to settle your clearly bubbling panic, but its to no avail. Your head is filled with the fact that Jungkook wants to leave, and you don't want that.

You want both. Why can't they both stay?

Your cheeks are wet with tears as your puppy-mind refuses to accept the situation. You've slipped right back again, as you make jungkook hold yoongis hand, before you yourself hold onto them, stubbornly holding onto their connected hands, before you lay down on them, eyes closed and ears pinned back.

"I uh.." Jungkook stampers a big awkwardly, attempt at pulling his hand away responded to with a low growl from you, eyes glaring.

"Seems like we'll have to share." Yoongi teases surprisingly, catching the younger wolf off guard as hemeeys the older one's gaze.

"I mean- uh-" he stammers, unsure. "Is that.. will that even work out?" He worries, while you happily fall asleep hiding both their hands.

"Guess we'll have to find out." Yoongi shrugs, laying down again next to you, Jungkook slowly doing the same a few seconds later.

Looks like his dream didn't end after all-

Maybe it just begun.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

[tilebytiles]

infallible beliefs - a.t. (part 1)

summary: as it turns out, professors are actually capable of feeling things, and alex feels more things for you than he’d like to. word count: 7.8k warnings: age gap (reader is 21 and alex is 30), mentions of violence, abuse (physical, emotional and financial) a/n: the reason he's 30 is bc i personally didn't feel comfortable writing an age gap bigger than that ! lets all just use our imaginations and pretend that the looks are there </3

you liked to consider yourself the kind of person that had everything together. to some degree, you thought you did — you went to school and kept your grades up, you had a part-time job at a local pet store that you loved, and you shared a lovely flat with your boyfriend of three years. by all appearances, you had your life together. but that was the exact issue, wasn’t it? what good were appearances supposed to be when you constantly felt like you were on the brink of falling apart?

coffee in hand, you rushed into the english building and made a beeline for your british literature professor’s classroom. due to the smaller size of your class, it was never in one of the lecture halls, meaning lessons always felt more intimate. you knew everyone’s names — you couldn’t say the same for the astronomy class you’d taken during your first year, or the nutrition class you were taking this term in an effort to chip away at your electives. you were normally one of the more participatory students, asking questions and answering any your professor posed to the class. your love for literature ran deep, hence why you intended on getting your degree in english. it was easy for you to be invested in the lessons.

“good morning, ms. l/n,” your professor called from the desk at the front. he was doing something on his laptop, presumably trying to get the slides for today pulled up.

you smiled softly at him. “good morning, mr. turner.” you walked to your usual seat and set your bag down on the floor, settling down into the chair. your coffee felt like it would run cold soon if you didn’t finish it.

you were in your third year of university — in the middle of the spring term — and mr. turner was the nicest professor you’d ever met. you’d taken one of his classes before, and when the term had ended, you were half-tempted to sign up for every class he was offering. would half of them even fit into your schedule? no. did you really care? also no. there was something about him that made his class actually enjoyable; maybe it was the way he spoke — soft yet sure, polite even when he was being forced to listen to the stupidest thing he’d ever heard — or the way he presented material, like he was genuinely interested in it and he wanted you to be, too. whatever it was, you were utterly captivated.

the clock struck 10am, and mr. turner shut the door to the room before turning to the class. “good morning, everyone. today, i thought we could discuss charlotte brönte and the impact of her writing, most notably jane eyre.”

rent was due soon. you needed to remind john to pay it. speaking of john, he’d told you to ask for a raise at the pet store, but you really didn’t think you needed it. your current wage was enough, wasn’t it? plus, you didn’t want to come off as money-hungry by demanding more pay out of nowhere. was he concerned about money? you knew the two of you had enough. you took a sip from your coffee and tried not to make a face; it was lukewarm. in your eyes, coffee either had to be piping hot or freezing cold to be enjoyed. you preferred iced coffee; the risk of frying your taste buds prevented you from chugging hot coffee as soon as you got it, so you tended to opt for iced instead. you were suddenly glad you didn’t try to get john coffee; he would be as displeased by the temperature as you were. he only liked hot coffee. would you see him for lunch? if you did, you could remind him about rent then. you hoped he wouldn’t want to go back to your flat to eat.

“ms. l/n?”

the sound of mr. turner’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you looked up at him. “i’m sorry?”

his expression didn’t change, but you could have sworn you noticed a subtle shift in his eyes. “i asked what you thought of the feminism in jane eyre.”

“oh, uh …” silence filled the classroom, the kind that was all-consuming and threatened to swallow you, your classmates and your professor whole. there was a metallic thunk as someone near the back set their water bottle down. you looked down at your notes, as if they’d save you, but you’d written a whole of three sentences before clocking out. speaking of clocks, what time was it? how long had you been deep in your own thoughts?

you finally acted as your own saviour and managed a meek, “i think it’s a product of its time.”

mr. turner’s eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly, and he nodded slowly. you were waiting for him to point out your spacing out to the rest of the class, but he said nothing of the sort. all he said was, “that could be argued, yes. brönte didn’t write jane as a hyper-feminist that smashed all stereotypes and expectations of women in the 1800s. in fact, many have argued that jane eyre has no true feminism due to jane’s submission to gender roles by the end of the novel …”

the rest of the lesson went by in as much of a blur as the first half did, except now you were actually trying to pay attention. eventually, mr. turner dismissed all of you, and the room was filled with bags unzipping and the clacking of pencils and pens being picked up off desks. you got your things together and stood from your seat, preparing to head out (and throw out your disgustingly cold coffee on the way). you were stopped, however, by the sound of your professor’s voice as he said, “ms. l/n, could I have a word with you, please?”

you made a quick trip to the bin beside the door and tossed out your coffee cup, then circled back around and stepped towards the desk at the front of the room. mr. turner had looked down for just a moment, marking something on a sheet of paper, but as you grew closer, he looked up, offering you a small smile. it did nothing to calm your nerves. gulping slightly, you said, “you wanted to speak to me?”

“yes. it’s about your …” he looked off to the side as he searched for the right word. “… inattentiveness in class recently.”

the alarm bells sounded in your head, and your brain was a breath away from sending a signal to your legs to get you the fuck out of there. sensing your impending panic, he quickly added, “you’re not in trouble, i promise.”

your brain halted. “oh. i’m not?”

“no. believe me, you’re not the first student i’ve had zone out during my lessons.” he waved his hand dismissively as he spoke, as if trying to shoo away your worries. “however, it is strange coming from you. you’re normally a very active participant, but recently, you’ve hardly spoken. i just wanted to know if something was going on.”

you didn’t know if you were relieved or even more scared. “no, i’m fine,” you replied, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “i guess i’ve just had a lot on my mind, is all.”

“well, you can always talk to me if you just need somewhere to dump your thoughts. you’re one of my best students, and i wouldn’t want to see you fail.” he smiled again, and you managed a small smile in return. you appreciated his offer, although you weren’t sure if you’d be using it anytime soon. you didn’t want to burden him in any way.

you hadn’t noticed the way his gaze latched onto your wrist. at least, not until his brows furrowed. he raised his hand, but didn’t touch your wrist, just gestured to it. “where did that come from?”

you looked at your wrist, equally as confused as he was, and saw the small bruise that had formed just below where the bone protruded. the alarm bells started back up, and your brain began drafting up that signal for your legs. “oh.” you gulped. “it’s nothing. i just bumped into a table in my flat.”

his eyes narrowed, and his hand dropped back to his side. “are you sure that’s all it is?”

“i’m fine, mr. turner,” you said quickly, already turning around to leave. “i appreciate the concern, really, but i’m just clumsy. i have to go now.” you beelined for the door. “see you on friday!”

“… right. have a good day, ms. l/n.”

it took everything in you to not run down the hall and slam through the doors. you forced yourself to keep your pace at a brisk walk, gently pushing the doors open once you reached them. you spotted john’s car in the nearby parking lot with relative ease and headed towards it, cursing yourself internally for the shitty excuse you’d made for mr. turner. bumping into a table? really?

as you slipped into the passenger seat and settled your bag into your lap, john leaned over the console and kissed your cheek. “how’d your class go?”

“it went okay.”

you secured your seatbelt, and john reached over, gently grabbing your wrist. he turned it over, examining the bloom of purple by the bone. “why didn’t you try to cover this up with makeup?”

“i was in a rush this morning. i didn’t think to.”

his grip tightened, his fingers digging into the bruise and making you wince. “no one saw it, did they?”

“no.” you didn’t dare mention your professor’s questioning.

“good.” he released your wrist, then put the car in reverse and looked up at the rearview mirror as he began backing out of the parking spot.

the car ride was silent as john drove the two of you to wherever he planned to take you for lunch (not your flat — you’d already passed the street he would normally turn onto). you were content to stare blankly out the window the whole time, but he had other ideas. “you know i love you, right?”

you looked over at him, a little surprised. “yeah,” you said quietly. “i know.”

“i would never intentionally try to hurt you like that, baby. last night was just …” he sighed and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “i was just frustrated, that’s all.”

the frustration in question arose when you had asked if you could buy the starry night lego set. van gogh was one of your favourite artists, and you’d been dying to get the set since it had first released. when you told him what the price was, though, john was practically seeing red. the bruise did come from a table, but it was less because you’d bumped into it and more because he had shoved you and sent you crashing down against it. you had apologised and promised to never bring the set up again.

“i love you, y/n,” he said, dragging you out of your thoughts and back into the car.

“i know,” you repeated. you couldn’t remember the last time you had said you loved him.

the car eventually came to a stop, and you looked up, spotting the café he had brought you to. the two of you had eaten there a few times before; you quite enjoyed the food, although john wasn’t very fond of coming because he was convinced the male waiter stared at you. the last time you were here, you’d made a point of checking for stares, and every time you looked, the waiter’s eyes were nowhere near catching yours. you kept that to yourself, though, not wanting to have a shouting match with your boyfriend in the middle of lunch.

as you both headed for the door, you wondered if this was his way of trying to make amends. you knew it would take a lot more than a lunch date for you to forgive him, but you at least appreciated his efforts; it was better than him doing nothing at all, right? his fingers were stiff between yours as he held your hand just a bit too tight to be comfortable, guiding you through the café as the employee behind the counter led you to an open table. you sat down across each other, and the employee informed you your waitress would be with you in a couple of minutes before disappearing, presumably to return to her post. you picked up one of the menus and opened it up, quickly scanning the options available to you.

sure enough, your waitress came just a couple of minutes later, notepad in hand. “hey, friends,” she said with a warm smile. you liked her already. “my name is alina, and i’ll be your waitress. what can i get you guys to drink?”

“can i have a margarita, please?” john asked, looking up from his menu.

alina nodded and quickly jotted it down before looking to you. you did your best to return her smile and said, “just water, please.”

“alright, a margarita and some water. i’ll be back with those drinks as quick as i can, and then we’ll get going on food, okay?”

“thank you,” you said, watching as she departed from your table. you eventually looked back over at john, doing your best to mask your mild disapproval. “are you sure you should be drinking this early in the day?”

he scoffed. “y/n, i can hold my alcohol. i’ll be fine.”

“but you’re driving —”

“i’ll be fine,” he repeated, his voice growing cold. you nodded and looked back down at the menu, pretending to suddenly be interested in the café’s sandwich selection.

eventually, alina returned with john’s margarita and your water and set both drinks down on the table before getting her notepad back out. “what can i get you guys today?”

“i’ll have the salmon benedict with a side of chips, please,” john said, looking down at his menu before looking up at alina.

she nodded and wrote down his order before turning to you. “and for you?”

“she’ll have the caesar salad.”

she looked back at john, slightly surprised, but nodded and wrote it down anyway. “will that be all for you two?”

“yup.”

“alright, i’ll get this to the kitchen.” she smiled at the two of you and collected your menus before departing once more.

john reached over the table and lightly tapped your nose. “hey. what’s wrong?”

“hm?” you looked up at him. “nothing.”

“you could try to look happier, you know.” you sighed through your nose and forced your best smile. he rolled his eyes. “not like that.”

“i’m not unhappy, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“could’ve fooled me. you look like you’d rather be anywhere else.” you kind of would, but you didn’t tell him that. “you haven’t even thanked me for bringing you here when you know i hate coming here.”

“thank you, john.”

“for?”

the image of you dumping his margarita right into his lap flashed through your mind, but you quickly shooed it away. “thank you for bringing me here even though you don’t like being here.”

he nodded, as if to say your thanks was satisfactory enough. “you’re welcome, y/n.”

you were beginning to wonder how much longer you could do this for.

•••••

“alexa, i could’ve come here on me own.”

“you could’ve, but i wanted to come with you. you can shop for your cat, and i can shower the animals in attention.”

alex sighed and pulled the door to the pet store open, allowing alexa to step through first before following her inside. it was the middle of the week and just shy of turning to 6pm, so there weren’t many other customers inside. he kept running through the list he’d made in his head, not wanting to forget anything, and headed for one of the aisles while alexa flagged down an employee to ask about petting the puppies.

he hadn’t intended to become a cat owner, but during an outing (with alexa, funnily enough), he’d come across a stray black kitten shivering to death in a cardboard box. the sight of its small, furry form teetering between life and death was too much to bear, and it’d taken hardly any convincing on alexa’s part before he was picking up the cardboard box and carrying it back to his car. they’d immediately gone to the vet and had the cat taken care of, and it turned out to be a male. alex named it herbert.

that was a couple of weeks ago. although herbert had the basics — food, a collar (for when he was actually big enough to fit in it), a bed (that he didn’t really use because he always slept with alex) — he didn’t have much in the way of entertainment. alex wasn’t sure which toys he’d like the most — which toys any cat would like the most, actually. he wasn’t used to taking care of animals.

he slowed to a stop in front of a shelf full of cat toys and bent down to grab a small plush mouse. he turned it over and over in his hand, trying to decide if herbert would like it. it was a mouse, and cats were obsessed with mice, weren’t they? if the wild misadventures of tom & jerry had taught him anything …

“mr. turner?”

he looked up at the sound of his name and locked eyes with one of the employees over the shelf. “ms. l/n,” he said, blinking a couple of times in surprise. “i didn’t realise you worked here.”

you smiled at him, perhaps a little shyly, and he instantly recognised it as the kind of smile you donned in class whenever you were invested in the topic at hand. for a brief second, he questioned why he even remembered what that smile of yours looked like, but he tried not to dwell on that for too long. “i’ve worked here for a little over a year now,” you told him, dragging him back out of his own head. “it’s a nice excuse to deal with animals all the time.”

you liked animals, then. he made a mental note of that, although he wasn’t sure why. “that’s entirely reasonable,” he replied, managing a small smile that mirrored your own. “i became a literature professor because … well, i love literature.”

you laughed at that, a small, soft laugh that bordered on a giggle. “i don’t imagine you’d become a literature professor because you love science.”

he chuckled. “no, certainly not. science was never really my thing, anyway.”

“what are you doing here, anyway?”

“ah, i needed to pick up some things for herbert.” when you stared at him in confusion, he realised his error. “my cat, i mean. i wanted to get some toys for him, but, er, i don’t really know what cats like.” he held up the little mouse toy in his hand for emphasis, and your confusion quickly morphed into understanding.

he watched as you walked around the shelves and made your way to the aisle he was on, coming to stand beside him in front of the row of cat toys. “do you know how old he is?”

“uh, not even a year, i don’t think. he’s a tiny little thing.”

you nodded slowly and seemed to think on it before reaching out to grab a toy that perfectly resembled a fishing rod. it was one of those sticks with the line of string at the end and something attached to the string, but the something in question was a little stuffed fish. clever marketing, really. “kittens tend to be more energetic, so he’ll probably get a kick out of something like this.”

you held it out to him, and he took it from you. “thank you, ms. l/n.”

“oh, you don’t have to call me that,” you said quickly. “you can just call me y/n.”

his brows raised a little, although he didn’t object. he knew your first name, of course — he knew all his students’ first names — but he always opted to refer to everyone by their last name, seeing it as the polite thing to do. calling a student by their first name felt … foreign, admittedly. if you wanted him to, though … “right,” he said, smiling faintly. “thank you, y/n.”

you returned his smile, and he hated the faint flutter he felt in his chest at the sight. “of course, mr. turner.”

silence settled between the two of you, although it wasn’t necessarily awkward. a question lingered on the tip of his tongue, but he wasn’t sure how to phrase it. he wasn’t sure if it was even his place to ask (it probably wasn’t). still, before he could catch himself, the words tumbled from his mouth. "are you ... doing any better?" he had half a mind to run out of the store and quit his job.

the way you were staring at him wasn't helping.

"oh, um ... yeah," you said, your voice quieter than it'd been before. "i mean, it healed." you held your wrist up, and his gaze dropped to the smooth skin beneath your wrist bone. sure enough, the purple blemish that had been there before was gone. a part of him was relieved, but another itched to know why you'd even had a bruise in the first place.

"that's good," he murmured, his gaze flickering back up to meet yours. "y/n ..." he paused, then sighed. it really wasn't his place to ask, but — "iff you're alright with me asking, where had that bruise really come from?"

he watched as your own gaze fell upon your wrist. you slowly turned it over, as if you were expecting to find some new mark you would need another half-assed excuse for. nothing was there, though. you eventually opened your mouth, a syllable of a word escaping your throat, and he was immediately bracing himself for the answer — one he knew he wouldn't like — but you never got to tell him. at the same time you began to speak, alexa came over, nudging her shoulder against his. "did you find anything?"

he jumped slightly at the sudden contact and looked over at her, blinking once or twice. "oh, er ... yeah. she helped me." he gestured to you, making alexa glance over at you. "she's one of my students," he added.

alexa smiled at you and held her hand out for you to shake. you did so and offered her a small smile. "pleasure to meet you. i'm ms. chung in the design department, but you can just call me alexa. i don't think i've seen you around campus before."

"i'm y/n," you told her. "i'm going into literature, so that's probably why we haven't crossed paths."

"alex didn't have to bully you into that, did he?"

you laughed and shook your head. "not at all. i'd already decided a while ago what i wanted to study. he's been a wonderful professor, though."

you thought he was wonderful?

it was stupid, and he felt like a teenager again, his head partway in the clouds and partway stuck to reality as he bought the cat toys and some extra food for herbert. stupid and reckless, that's what it was. you were his student, and as far as he knew, you were that nice to everyone. you considering him a wonderful professor didn't mean a damn thing, and it was insane of him to think it did — no, scratch that, to want it to mean something.

those feelings of his weren't entirely out of the blue; he'd just gotten good at ignoring them and maintaining a professional boundary between the two of you. even if it wasn't illegal — you were 21, and he 30 — it was morally reprehensible and went against everything he stood for. sometimes, though, he still found himself staring at you for just a second too long, and sometimes your enthusiasm in his class made his heart skip one too many beats. throughout the term, he had done his best to never cross the line he'd personally drawn, but when he'd seen the bruise on your wrist ... it was difficult to deny the feelings it stirred up within him. he didn't like the worry he felt seeing it, and he didn't like the cloud of concern that followed him for the rest of the day as your shitty excuse and your forced smile played on repeat in his head.

"earth to turner."

alexa waved her hand in front of his face as they walked down the sidewalk together, heading back to his car so he could deposit the bag of goods for herbert inside. he blinked in surprise and looked over at her, raising an eyebrow. "what?"

"you're thinking awful hard over there."

"i've just — got a lot on me mind, is all," he said, giving a dismissive wave of his hand.

her eyes narrowed, but she didn't press him for answers. she just shrugged and sighed, redirecting her gaze to the world in front of them. "whatever you say, al." He knew she could see right through him, although he was silently grateful she didn't say anything else; frankly, he wasn't sure he even had any answers for her.

what were you doing to him?

•••••

you weren’t fond of bars. you didn’t mind alcohol — although you usually kept your drinking restricted to special occasions — but having to deal with other drunk patrons wasn’t the greatest way to spend your time, you thought. having to deal with your drunk boyfriend wasn’t great, either.

you weren’t fond of bars, but when john wanted to go to one, you weren’t really in a position to say no.

although your boyfriend seemed to go all-out every time the two of you left your flat, you couldn’t be bothered. you pulled on a white skirt that went down to your knees and a grey jumper than had some american university you were unfamiliar with printed on it (you had gotten the jumper from a charity shop, if you were remembering correctly). despite it being spring, days were still cold in london, and the nights weren’t any better. plus, you preferred to show as little skin as possible, especially if you had to be around drunk men.

you stuffed your phone, wallet and keys into your bag and double-checked that you had everything before zipping the bag shut and slipping the strap over your shoulder. john finally re-emerged from the bathroom and ran a hand through his hair, raising an eyebrow at the sight of you. “that’s what you’re wearing?”

“i don’t see an issue with it,” you said. your voice was a bit curt, showing that you weren’t in the mood to deal with his persnickety bullshit, and he seemed to get the message. instead of responding verbally (starting an argument), he just nodded and grabbed his keys.

fifteen minutes later, after an uncomfortably silent car ride, you found yourself sat beside john in one of the booths at the back of the bar, nodding absentmindedly and giving false hums in an effort to make yourself seem like you were paying attention to whatever it was he was rambling about. you were only really picking up bits and pieces — his older brother was disappointed in him, he was convinced his parents didn’t love him even though you knew from firsthand experience that they very much did, all things you’d heard before. it wasn’t that you didn’t care; to a degree, you did sympathise with him. but it was only to a degree.

as he drunkenly babbled on in your ear, you glanced around the dimly lit bar, your eyes scanning dozens of faces you didn’t recognise. you could pick out a couple — students you’d seen around campus before — but the rest came together to form a sea of unfamiliarity in front of you. you sipped from your glass, wincing as the alcohol carved a burning trail down your throat. the bar you were in had live music on the weekends, and tonight, the performer was someone you hadn’t caught the name of. he had a shaved head, wore what appeared to be a leather vest with nothing underneath and a pair of black skinny jeans, and his eye makeup was leagues better than anything you could pull off. he seemed cool, and you liked the sound of his voice. you made a mental note to figure out who he was before you went home with john.

“i have to use the restroom,” you said suddenly, standing up from your seat and cutting john’s sentence short. you looked down at him. “i'll be right back.”

his brows furrowed, and he grabbed your wrist. “i'll go with you.”

“i’ll be fine, i promise. just wait here.” you pried his hand off (due to his inebriated state, he wasn’t gripping you very hard) and slipped out of the booth, heading straight for the bathroom. you kept your head down, doing your best to avoid eye contact with anyone.

the music was muffled and, admittedly, a little less headache-inducing in the bathroom. you stood in front of the row of sinks and sighed, rubbing at your face with your hands. you examined your reflection in the mirror, immediately noting the dark circles under your eyes and the almost gaunt appearance of your cheeks. had you lost weight recently? you hadn’t noticed. you’d been too busy with everything else …

“fuck you!” a shrill voice screamed, bounding into the bathroom as the heavy door swung shut behind the owner. you jumped at the sound and turned your head, watching as a girl stomped behind you, stopping in front of the sink beside you. she was huffing, her chest heaving, and for a second, you swore you saw steam pouring out of her ears.

it wasn’t really your place to get involved, but she looked like she was a breath away from blowing the building up. slowly, you asked, “are you alright?”

she slammed her bag down onto the countertop — that, too, made you jump — and began rummaging through it, pulling different things out. ah, she was fixing her makeup. “my stupid fucking boyfriend started chattin’ with some other girl and thought i wouldn’t fucking notice,” she said, opening up a pack of makeup wipes. “it’s not even the first time he’s done it, i’ve just been too nice and let him off.”

“did the girl know you —“

“if she did, i’m rippin’ her fucking face off,” she muttered.

fair. you turned the water in your sink on and let it warm up for a few seconds before leaning down to splash your face. “is he still your boyfriend, then?”

she scoffed. “absolutely not. i told him he can go find some other girl to be a wanker around since he’s so desperate to get away from me.”

as you rinsed your face off, you wondered if you should have been grateful that john wasn’t a cheater. as far as you knew, anyway. sure, everything else he did was … less than ideal, but at least he wasn’t going behind your back. right?

“men are shite,” the girl said, snapping you out of your thoughts.

you turned the water off and reached for the paper towel dispenser. “yeah. they are.”

you could only think of one man (besides your father) in your life that wasn’t utter shite.

you left the bathroom after drying yourself off and intended to head straight back to your booth, but the sight of a familiar head of hair gave you pause. it wasn’t like he was the only one with that haircut, and for all you knew, you were about to look creepy as hell walking up to some random bloke and asking if he was someone else. still, you couldn’t stop yourself from quietly approaching, hesitating before reaching up and tapping the figure’s shoulder. his head turned, his eyes seeking out yours, and for some reason, you felt comfort in being right in your assumption.

your literature professor, the only man in your life that wasn’t utter shite, got up from his stool and turned to face you fully. “y/n,” he said, raising his voice a little more than usual so you could hear him over the music, “i didn’t expect to see you here.”

“i’m here with my boyfriend,” you told him, and if you weren’t paying attention, you easily would’ve missed the subtle shift in his expression before he schooled it back into a state of neutrality. “i could say the same of you.”

“professors need a break, too, you know.”

he had a point.

you awkwardly shifted from one foot to the other, unsure of what to say now. you felt like you were seeing something you shouldn’t; like you were a child finding your teacher in the supermarket. you were both adults, sure, but the scene gave you the same feeling you’d had in the pet store. encountering him outside of lessons just felt odd.

he seemed to feel the same as you, struggling to find anything to say. eventually, he opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly interrupted by the sound of a voice behind you. you immediately knew who it was, and the way his gaze hardened confirmed it.

you turned and came face to face with john, who was nothing short of seething. “you said you were going to the restroom.”

“i did.”

“so then why the fuck are you here, chatting up some bloke instead of talking to me?”

“john —“

“answer me,” he demanded, reaching out to grab your wrist. his grip was much tighter this time, almost bruising, and you winced at the pain that shot through you.

“i think there’s been a misunderstanding,” mr. turner began. “i’m just her —“

“you’re not a part of this, you fucking wanker,” john spat, glaring at him before looking back down at you. “why are you talking to him?”

“he’s just my professor,” you said, forcing yourself to stay calm. “john, please.”

“just your professor?” he echoed, ignoring your plea. “why the hell’re you talking to your professor in a bar, hm? is there something you’re not telling me?”

“don’t do this.”

“gettin’ him off for a good grade? is that it?”

you felt sick to your stomach. “john, stop it, now.”

“i always knew you’d do this to me, y/n! can never fucking trust you with anyone! am i not good enough for you? everything i’ve done, and you’re shaggin’ your goddamn professor?”

“john, shut up!” you shouted, the last bit of your restraint slipping.

with your restraint went his — or what little he’d had left. eyes wide, he lifted his free hand and quickly swung it in your direction.

you squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the impact, but it never came. the musician’s guitar stuttered. the drums missed a few beats. you opened your eyes and were met with the sight of mr. turner gripping john’s wrist, the veins in his forearm protruding with how hard he was holding it. his brows were furrowed down in rage, and you could see the anger that swam in his eyes, threatening to drown him and you and everyone in that damned bar. “let go of her,” he said quietly, “and get the fuck out of here. now.”

you’d never heard him swear like that before.

john stared at him, then at you, then at him again. he yanked his wrist from mr. turner’s grasp and finally released your own, turning to leave. not, though, before saying to you, “don’t bother coming home.” and then he was gone.

the loud chatter within the bar’s walls had been reduced to mere murmurs by the scene that had just unfolded. you were shaken up — quite a bit. you were used to him exploding, hurting you, but not in public. never in public. he had gotten good at making sure his outbursts were kept behind closed doors.

“y/n.”

you jumped at the sound of mr. turner’s voice and looked up at him. your heart was thumping in your ears. you felt shaky. you needed to sit down. he could tell you were on the verge of a panic attack, and he put a hand on your back, murmuring something about finding you a seat as he led you to one of the back booths. it was a more secluded spot, away from the stares and whispers of the other patrons. you were grateful.

murder was illegal. murder was illegal. murder was illegal.

that was the only coherent thought alex was immediately capable of making. he let you slip into the seat first before slipping in beside you, making sure to keep a respectable distance between the two of you. you stared down at the table, and he stared down at you, thinking of a million things to say and not finding a single one of them appropriate given the circumstances. the more empathetic side of him wanted to dance around the issue, tiptoe around what had just happened, but he knew he’d never get any real answers if he tried to play nice. this couldn’t go on.

“y/n,” he said again, crossing his arms and setting them down on the table, “how long has this been going on?”

you were silent for a few moments, making him panic internally and wonder if he’d already fucked up in his line of questioning. eventually, though, your answer came to soothe his worrying brain. “at least a year, maybe more.”

“a year?” murder was illegal. “has he been hurting you this whole time?”

“he doesn’t usually hit me. that’s only when he gets really pissed about something.”

“when did this start?”

“when we moved in together. he had always been kind of … kind of rude before that, i guess, but once we saw each other every day, it was like he just snapped. i guess he realised he finally had power over me.”

of course. if the flat was in his name, then he could kick you out at any point he wanted. one wrong move on your end, and you would be out on the streets. he’d backed you into a corner; a corner you hadn’t left in over a year. alex’s heart felt heavy. “he’s always been kind of rude, you said. what … what do you mean by that?”

you sighed and sank a little further down in your seat. “he makes comments on my weight sometimes. he never calls me ugly or fat, but the implication that he’s unsatisfied with how i look is always there. he likes to poke fun at the books i like and the music i listen to and the films i watch. it’s like — like he wants me to be a carbon copy of him.”

“y/n, your weight’s fine,” alex said with a frown. “you look like you’ve lost weight, actually. i’m worried about you.”

you looked up at him, and the resignation in your eyes added extra weight to his heart. “i’m fine, mr. turner.” even though you clearly weren’t.

silence fell between the two of you, leaving alex to swim in the pool of his thoughts. realistically, the most he could do by the school's terms was offer you resources for abuse and maybe help you get your boyfriend reported to the authorities. the issue, though, was that as far as he knew, your boyfriend wasn't a student. you being one — one of his, for that matter — didn't immediately give him the right to get involved in your private life, even when you were clearly in danger. there was also the matter of whether or not you even wanted him to get involved — that one, he wasn't really sure on. he didn't want to betray your trust and interfere with your relationship if you asked him not to, but he also hated the thought of turning a blind eye to what was happening.

alex had never been one for violence. that wasn't to say he was a total pacifist, but he typically believed things could be talked out rather than resorting to fists (or worse). when he had seen your boyfriend grab you, though, and prepare to hurt you in public with such ease and no shame, he was pretty sure he was a breath away from knocking that bastard to the floor and giving him a taste of his own medicine.

“he didn’t mean it when he told me not to come home,” you finally said, dragging alex back out of his thoughts. “i just have to give him some time.”

time. of course. “if you’d like, i can drive you home.”

“i would appreciate that, mr. turner. thank you.” he offered you a small smile, and you did your best to mirror it. it didn’t quite reach your eyes, but he appreciated the effort.

you would have given a more genuine smile, but you were embarrassed and still shaken up, and really, all you wanted was to curl up in bed and cry for a while. you knew that, realistically, it wasn't embarrassing to be in an abusive relationship, and you knew that mr. turner was one of the last people on the planet that would ever be judgmental over it. you certainly wouldn't judge anyone else for being in one. when it came to yourself, though, it was just ... you couldn't help but wonder if this was all your fault.

you weren't sure how long you and mr. turner sat in that booth, but it had at least been long enough that you were sure john had either cooled down or passed out in your flat. the pair of you got up and headed for the door, but not before he stopped to say something to the musician that'd been playing, who was now sitting at a table and nursing a beer. "sorry i can't stay for the rest o' your set," he told him, "i've got somethin' i need to take care of."

the musician glanced at you, and understanding flickered in his gaze. "course, al. don't even worry about it. i'll see you 'round, yeah?"

"yeah." mr. turner flashed him a smile before turning back to you and leading you outside.

as he took you to his car, you asked, "who was that?"

"miles Kane. he's a friend of mine. we go way back."

"oh." miles kane — you did your best to remember his name for later. "i like his music."

"me, too." he opened the passenger seat of his car for you, and you quietly thanked him and slipped inside. he went around the front of the car and got into the driver's seat, turning the car on and fastening his seatbelt. you did the same.

after you gave him your address, the two of you fell into yet another bout of silence, although this one wasn't as uncomfortable as it'd been in the bar. mr. turner fiddled with the radio, eventually settling for a station playing rock songs from the 80s. you recognised a few of them, although you were more familiar with the general tune than the lyrics. you could occasionally see him tapping out the beat against the steering wheel from the corner of your eye.

unlike the drive to the bar with john, which had felt like an absolute drag, the drive to your flat with mr. turner was much more bearable and hardly felt like ten minutes, let alone fifteen. once his car slowed to a stop in front of your block of flats, you undid your seatbelt, the soft click seeming to echo in his car. "um, thank you," you said quietly, popping the door open. "i really appreciate it. sorry if i ruined your night or anything."

"no, no, it's fine," he said quickly, shaking his head. "you didn't ruin anything, alright?"

"okay." you nodded.

you stepped out of the car, bag in hand, and were about to close the door when he suddenly said, "y/n."

"hm?"

"can i put my number in your phone?"

ashamedly, your brain immediately jumped to what you deemed the most logical conclusion: he was proving john right and hitting on you. "huh?"

"so i can check on you, i mean." he smiled apologetically at you when he noticed the brief flash of panic that darted over your features. "i'm not, er ... i'm not like that, i promise."

"oh. yeah." now you felt foolish. you unzipped your bag and fished your phone out, handing it to him. he was quick to create a new contact for himself and handed your phone back to you. his contact name was 'alex turner', and you didn't know why it surprised you. maybe you were just so used to calling him 'mr. turner'.

"if anything ever happens, please don't be afraid to contact me, y/n," he said softly. "i may just be your professor, but i'm also a human being. you can talk to me."

you nodded. "thank you, mr. turner."

"of course. you should go inside now, it's getting cold out."

after exchanging a final quick goodbye, you headed into your block of flats, taking a silent trip up in the lift to the floor you lived on. you retrieved your keys from your bag and unlocked the front door to your flat, immediately noticing that the lights were still off. you slipped in, shutting and locking the door behind you, and crept through the living room, being careful to not wake a sleeping John on the sofa. as you'd suspected — he must've fallen asleep after he got back. had he been waiting for you?

you threw a blanket over him before continuing to your bedroom, shutting the door as quietly as you could behind you. you let out a small sigh and leaned against the wood for a few moments, shutting your eyes. this was not how you'd anticipated your night going. you eventually reopened your eyes and turned the light on, depositing your bag into the armchair in the corner. out of curiosity, you stepped up to the window, peeking through the blinds to see if mr. turner's car was still there. he was already gone, though.

after getting changed into your pyjamas for the night, you collapsed onto your bed and held your phone over your face, peering at the screen in the newfound darkness. you kept reading mr. turner's name over and over, the image of his quiet rage permanently seared into your brain. you were so used to him being calm and collected at all times — quiet, too. granted, he hadn't exactly raised his voice, but somehow, that was scarier than him shouting could ever be.

and it was all because of you.

tags: @elexnorislingtxn / @edandmollydeservebetter / @sagegreensimmr / @billyseye / @supernaturalandpain / @not-a-big-slay

[dadattebayo]

So today I bumped on this post and wanted to share some thoughts on the subject, but the account I reblogged it from seems to be off now so I lost my post and no one sees it. Still want to keep it, so...

Sorry, with all respect, but I just don’t get it. Like … WHY should we stop asking them about the thing they actually play? What exactly so bad happens to them if we do? By the thing I mean Haladriel as a ship. They play it. Literally.

Come one, it's obvious the show itself launched the ship. Intentionally, using all classic cinematic tools to make the exact romantic subtext visible to the audience (like gestures, poses, camera angles, looks eyes to eyes, sensual whisper) so we could definitely read it as romantic even if they refuse to confirm it openly. (Due to the possible unhinged reaction of the lorebros, I’m sure) So basically the show implied romance between them from the beginning, and now since they are stepping back, we just have to be ashamed to ask questions? Surely the actors give more interviews then the showrunners, because they are the faces of the characters, their representatives, they could give you the insight no one else could give since they play it and are the most involved in their personalities and emotions. They should be able to explain their motives and thoughts. This is how the acting craft works, they must FEEL the character. This is why for fans, hearing actors discuss a ship is like hearing the characters discuss their own feelings.

See what I mean? Typical romantic cinematic hint.

So again why shouldn't we ask them? why not let the actors talk about their interpretation? Miriel and Elendil's actors shouldn't be asked about them too, or it only concerns Morfydd and Charlie for some reason?

For god sake we all know the ship is doomed, there will be no future, but still the show revolves around them, even in the end of s2 he still mentioned she's his queen. But there was not enough interaction, mostly ambiguous one that we have to explain and develop ourselves, so why should we be deprived as well of their vision and of any extra detail we would like to know from the first hands? | don't feel like it.

And I think people just need to stop decide for the actors how they feel and being overprotective over literally nothing. Shipping is a part of any fan culture. And the actors are not made of glass, they actually are even supposed to speak out. Once again: the show presented and developed the ship. The actors play the characters of this ship. They play the feelings we all see. They are aware of the subtext. They do not feel ashamed to play it. They are not ashamed to play those characters. So we don't have to be ashamed to want to know more about what they play, what they mean and what is their vision on it. There is no harm being caused.

I actually miss good all days when the actors were not considered this sensitive. like for example during the promotion of the X-MEN both Mcavoy and Fassbender got unstoppably asked like million questions about their MAGNETO/XAVIER (Cherik) ship, they were shown fanarts and fanfics, even the explicit ones, they even had to read out loud some about themselves (yeah-yeah, not their characters, but specifically real-person ship aka FassAvoy). No one got offended. One can say they even encouraged it. Homosexual ship. McAvoy was married at that time. Still they were goofing around, touching each other and hugging all the time, talking about their character bromance and generally spreading fanservice all over the fandom. They were having fun alongside with the fans. This was gold.

By the way the same story with their characters: they are a protagonist and a villain , two opposites with sort of cosmic connection, they just won’t let each other go peacefully. There is love, hate, friendship, rivalry and pain. Some fans see them as a friends/foes, shippers like me see them as lovers. This ship is giant, and thank for the actors interaction and involvement into the fandom it just got deeper and much more exciting.

Highly recommended to explore.

Remind you of something? 🙃

[raisingmybanner]

Accretion (a royai big bang longfic)

Fandom | Rating | Length: Fullmetal Alchemist | T | 155k COMPLETE

Summary:

accretion [ə-ˈkrē-shən] noun: An accidental deposit of “foreign” material that was not part of the painting process, f. ex. dried liquid residue, flyspecks, etc. (from Stella Art Conservation, LLC) Riza Hawkeye has worked as Security Director for private art authenticator Roy Mustang for eight years with little trouble. However, recently Mustang has taken on riskier and higher-stakes jobs, putting himself and his team in danger of exposure and harm. The objective of a new undercover job – authenticating an elusive ink drawing while undercover on a three-week island retreat – hits too close to home for Riza. Secrets carefully kept threaten to be brought to light, exacerbated by the closeness required while posing as a young engaged couple. Hold on, they have to pose as an… engaged couple? For three weeks?!

Vibes: Modern day Amestris AU, big ol' romcom, casual intimacy, what if instead of military alchemy it's dubiously legal art nerdery, everything BUT a heist, idiots to lovers, fake dating, FEELINGS, emotional support Hayate

The story includes gorgeous illustrations done by some extremely talented artists who have been working tirelessly for months. Go give them some love! You'll find pieces from @justanotherinterneruser, @chewytran, @areyousanta, and Crystal Capsids @rizaposting throughout Accretion, bringing it to life. You'll also find the work of @aldrendaux when you don't trip over sentences starting with the exact same word nearly as much as you would have otherwise ;-) If you need a kind beta with an eye for detail, you won't do better than Aldren.

Accretion is COMPLETE and posted in full on AO3!

Check out the rest of the Big Bang collection on AO3 HERE or download the amazing ebook PDF HERE.

...What are you still doing here? GO READ THESE FICS! RUN!!

[blueishspace]

Looped Sun 2

Loop #16

They didn't stop looping in time, but at least they had eachother. Grian had to admit that it was almost fun with Scar around, definitely felt less lonely with someone else to talk to.

Loop #19

It took 3 loops for Scar to suggest having some fun with this, spice it up. Grian hadn't expected stealing Martyns and Ren bit would be their objective this time but he didn't mind. Getting to be king and screaming "red winter is coming" was actually quite funny and being all shady in Last Life was nice too. As Secret Life comes to an end Scar whispers.

Scar: Alright alright, let me be king next time ok?

Grian laughs at the suggestion just in time for-

Loop #21

Grian had noticed soon that not every loop started the same exact day a while ago but he never expected to wake up already during Limited Life.

Surely things couldn't get weirder then that.

Loop #26

He spoke too soon. This time around he woke up as he was singing a piece of paper, a declaration of indipendence, while wearing a very weird blue american indipendence outfit together wih people he had never met before.

He just went along with it of course and fighting against a weird masked guy for indipendence had been a breath of fresh air but Scar was still missing and Grian was very confused the whole time.

Well until ...

Scar: Thank you Soot, however I think that I could run this country far better!

Grian: Scar? Where were you!? ... What are you doing!?

Scar: That's why I'm going to run myself! Vote for Scar 2020!

To be fair it took some times for things to go badly.

Grian: This is your fault you know that right?

Scar: Hey! Look! At least the country didn't explode or something-

*Boom*

Grian: ...

Scar: ...that wasn't me.

Loop #31

Grian: Damn I didn't bring enough tnt to rig the enchanter. How did I forget??

Scar: Don't worry! I got some!

Grian: Oh thank... where did you get it?

Scar: I kept it in my second inventory from last loop.

Grian: Your what?

Scar: We have a second inventory now! Didn't you notice!

Grian: I see it now ...how?

Scar: It keeps stuff safe from one loop to the other! Cool right!?

Grian: ... Like an enchanting table? But for loops?

Scar: I guess?

Grian: How are you not freaking out about this!?!

Loop #33

This time they woke up early, back in season 6! Grian doesn't understand why Scar doesn't care because he does! Why can't someone explain it to him for ender sake.

Loop #36

Someone explained it. He and Scar woke up somewhere completely different and it was confusing and scary but they finally got answers.

Grian: So our universe is part of a big big big tree?

Anakin: Yes, like every other.

Grian: And the tree is what, under maintenance?

Anakin: Basically.

Grian: And so we are stuck looping?

Anakin: You don't need to pretend to be calm, I can feel your emotions in the force.

Grian: So... we are stuck? Forever?!?

Anakin: Not forever forever, until the tree is fixed-

Grian: So possibly for billions of years!?!

Anakin: Some of the older loops have been going for trillions even.

Grian: ... I'll... I...need to think.

Anakin: I'll write some useful terms down so you can read them once you aren't... You know.

Grian: Guess I have all the time in the world to come to terms with it... Scar is going to hate that he didn't get to meet you.

Loop #37

Scar: ....soooo what you up to?

Grian: Memorising these terms Anakin gave us.

Scar: Ooh sounds...fun!

Grian: Every loop has an anchor, without it the loop can't exist. I tought I was the anchor but it's not possible because I was sent to a different loop last tims.

Scar: So am I the anchor?

Grian: You were missing for the first loops Scar... the only option that makes sense is that both of us are anchors. But even then...

Grian underlines the term "co-anchors" a bunch of times.

Scar: Does that mean I'll get to meet Anakin Skywalker?

Grian: Probably? One day?

Scar: Wooooho!

Loop #38

They were waiting for the moon to crash when Scar posed the question.

Scar: Do you think we can just... stop the moon?

Grian: Hmmm... I guess I never tought about it, why?

Scar: I don't know, just thinking.

Grian: I have an idea...

Loop #43

Scar: Grian what are you doing?

Grian: You remember how last loop started in s7?

Scar: ... Yeah?

Grian: I decided to keep something in my pocket this time around.

Grian took out a golden gauntlet with 6 colored glowing stones.

Scar: ... The button?

Grian: The button.

Grian snapped and the moon disappeared.. He then carefully removed and pocketed it again.

Grian: Well, I'm surprised it actually...worked...

Scar: But what happened to it?

Grian: I just made it really really small.

Loop #51

This was unbearable, Grian tought it was weird when this loops Timmy was acting like an incapable child, then he became worried when he saw that Scott was a pacifist who wouldn't hurt a fly, and then Cleo started burning down literally everything and he started to question his life choices. Everyone was barely themselves, it was like they had been replaced by very cheap imitations.

(Poor Grian had to walk into fanonland)

Loop #67

Scott Smajor liked to think he was often in control of the situation. Not many people liked that about him but if he died it was by his decision.

He didn't feel very in control at the moment, back in the Last Life with Grian and Scar being completely different from what he remembered them being... And he didn't like it one bit.

Scott: Ok ok, stop it!

Grian: What do you mean? We aren't doing anything wrong!

Scott: It isn't right! You are supposed to be in a team with Jimmy and Martyn and you Scar should be alone on a mountain!

Scar: ...

Grian: ...

Scott: ... Sorry that was-

Grian: You remember too?

Scar: New looper! New looper!

Scott: ...uh?

Prev Next