#friendly reminder that i'm doing this all alone it's very hard :( this is why i ask you to be patient <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[alkeneater]

sharing random details because why not

If you visited my wiki (which is still WIP and i'm kinda sick and busy to update it rn so pls be patient) you've probably seen this on Abe's page

Well you should know that Abe's obsession with living up to his clonefather's name is my roman empire and I just LOVE that, because Abe chose a great role model :) This is why I wanted to bring up this topic way more often in my comic, because this is pure angst material (and also extremely relatable).

SOOOOO about that so-called debate contest...

Of course Abe lacks charisma and attractiveness so nobody listens to him. YES, I MADE ELECTION BLU-GALOO BUT MORE DRAMATIC BECAUSE..... BECAUSE WE LOVE ANGST 😋😋😋 IT'S ENTERTAINING

ALSOOOO not only do other clones not care about Abe, but the shadowy guys as well (which is not surprising cus they don't give a shit about anyone in this place). They literally don't treat him like a human just because he is not as great as the Abraham Lincoln himself. They wanted to raise him to be a leader but they gave him anxiety, low self-esteem and a strange obsession :(

So yeah after some failures he tends to spend a couple of days in his room, crying to his Lincoln posters (fun fact some of them are ai generated) and literally talking to them because..... coping mechanism? 🤷‍♂️

I tried my best to add something but this sketch comic thing basically explains everything so okayyyyyy you got my point :з

I'm thinking about his character development in the comic, I want him to start loving himself, be able to defend himself and just FIND HIMSELF. Because OKAY you can't be THE EXACT clone of your clonefather, it's not the 19th century, but you're still a human, right?? So just be a good human!! :) You're already on the right path since you began to fight for your friends' well-being.

Omg wait i'm already talking to him in second person OKAY YOU GOT ME PLEASE READ EXCLAMATION!2080 THE THIRD PART IS IN PROGRESS BLAH BLAH BLAH BYEEEEE

[tadc-harlequin-au]

God your designs are so fucking good bro, I'd love to know how the design process went

lmfao, I can give some insights

Caine's design was mostly an accident. In the scrapped initial intro animatic for this AU, he had a placeholder design until I could finalize him when I went to clean up the frames

which became this, then this, then...

He literally got designed as the animatic went on, the coat on shoulders was a subconscious approach because I blame One Piece for making me a coat-on-shoulders whore. His final coat design is mostly taken from my own oc lol

up to this point, I had no idea how he would've been colored until I did this shitpost

Pomni's is weird too

She was partially inspired by both the Circus breach crack idea, Pauline from my Unexpected Reunion AU, and Mystery!Pomni because I do love women (in suits)

so if Caine was designed overtime within an animatic, Pomni's design spanned fucking AUs-

Ragatha was literally just me thinking, "hm. what if. hear me out. maid. but tattered skirt cus puppet revolution time"

this is her VERY first appearance and it hasn't changed much since leave me alone let me enjoy women being gay

Now, Kingr is actually the closest ANY design in this AU would come to it's base inspiration Lies of P, because AUGH King of Puppets my beloved

He started as a boss design from the get go then reverse engineered to look more friendly, because by the time I was designing him, I was already incorporating the idea of Pomni having to fight bosses so she could free them from these insane forms of theirs

This idea was recycled from my other AU for fnaf btw, the Eternal Eclipse AU where Freddy has to free the other Glamrocks from their "Primal forms" by fighting them WITH THE POWER OF ROCK AND ROLLLLLLLLLL (which are GIGANTIC and INSANE, sound familiar yet?)

back to the rest, I actually didn't really know what I wanted for Jax, aside from a Cheshire Cat motif from Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland because love that mofo and Jax's constant smile reminds me of him

I guess that's why his initial design was so unnecessarily cluttered and so hard to draw, because all I knew was that I wanted it to be loose, flowy, bouncy and airy, like an actual cartoon. But, still respecting the laws of reality somewhat

and then I had to switch the outfit out, because at around this time, The Patriarch's design was finalized, and I didn't want people to start to think Jax was associated with him purely due to similar palettes. So I sneakily swapped it out with an explorer's outfit (since I was thinking of Jax as the team's scout), and tried to play it off as simply a "oh it was hard to draw"

He was even supposed to have goggles in the newer design, but I scrapped it because I'm repeating the same mistake of making him too cluttered again.

Z is a pretty straightforward one, although they diverged from the initial idea. My first thought was making them a brawler of sorts because they were initially going to be Pomni's training buddy, so I looked up "Victorian brawler" and yoinked the outfit I liked.

The concept of Z being the training dummy was then recycled to be Kingr's role instead because Kingr was more of a tank character than Z, and in turn, she became the weaponsmith

Each part of Z was also inspired by something that randomly came to mind when I was trying to wrack my brain with what parts should they have:

the hook peg is from Hiccup, the other peg is from A series of Unfortunate Events, the antler is a reference to Mystery!Zooble but combined with the Minecraft Warden's palette, spiked chokers were taken from my own sona's eel tongue. The flexible arms are very much Doc ock

Gangle... She was the hardest to design that my brain is blocking me from remembering the process because it was so traumatizing /j

I just know that like Caine, her design was also mostly an accident. Iirc, she wasn't meant to have cat ears/motif in the first place, but after I finished the mask with the <:3 face I went like "fuck it we ball" and went furry mode

I think she was also meant to have painted whiskers, and the only reason why she doesn't is I forgor 💀

There was no inspo for her outfit except maybe Disney Cinderella because I was only putting what worked and discarded what didn't (not recommended)

The double ribbon arms was literally just me thinking the ends are her little fingies, and her "feet" is just me wanting to make her ribbons look like a part of her dress and looking flowy because ew feet

anyways if you can't tell, there's a pattern here: recycle ideas, take inspo, look it up or fuck it we ball when all else fails lol

the lesson here is to not follow in my footsteps because I keep stepping on shit /lh

[sports-on-sundays]

hello! i have a request for marc guiu where marc and reader have been best friends for a long time now and marc gets together with some girl but reader realises that the girl is just in it for the money and the clout and tries telling marc that but he thinks that she's jealous so he kind of distances her and their friendship is at strain (angst). in the end all is resolved and maybe marc and reader realise their feelings for each other? its completely fine if you dont wanna do it. thank you so much!!!

not right for you / Marc Guiu

Summary: Marc x best friend!female!reader

Warnings: heights, crying, censored cursing, being used in a relationship (not reader)

Requested?: Yes, thank you.

You stare at the girl in judgment, taking her in. This girlfriend of Marc's, that he's been talking about a lot, excessively, for a few weeks now, finally stands before you. She has long, soft brown hair, falling down her back, perfectly done makeup, a chiseled face, long legs, a skinny frame, and, well, she's gorgeous.

Just being in her presence makes you feel insecure.

Marc has his hand practically glued to the small of her back as she shows you her million dollar perfect smile.

"I've heard lots about you," you say slowly. You really did mean it to sound friendly, but do have to admit that you sound more like a cowboy from a Western movie trying to pick a fight in some shady saloon.

Marc smiles and says, "I never stop talking about you, Olivia."

She giggles at this, and holds her hand out to shake yours. You nod and shake it, still not so sure about this girl.

You try to remind yourself to give her a chance and not just go by your initial gut feeling- but it's hard. It's hard not to read this book by her cover.

Simply because it seems she's putting a lot of effort into her cover- too much effort. Too much effort for it to not reflect her inner personality.

But! You mustn't make such judgments until you really know her, you remind yourself. Despite how hard it is not to.

Well, you thought maybe you would get all buddy-buddy with her to try and see if you can figure her out, but luckily, it looks like that won't be necessary. She's not the type of girl you think you would get alone with much, anyway.

Because Marc won't, shut, up, about, her.

"She's so sweet," he's going on now, "And, like, honestly, adorable." To you, she didn't look very adorable, and rather just super conventionally attractive. But not interesting or unique in anyway. Of course, you don't say this, as he continues with a boyish giggle, "The other day, she wanted to buy this watch and these earrings. So f*cking adorable the way she looked at me with her big puppy dog eyes. I couldn't resist her."

You nod slowly, taking this all in, and say sarcastically, "Sounds just adorable."

Marc doesn't seem to pick up on it. "And then, get this-" he says as he blushes more.

"Hmmm...?" you ask, unimpressed.

And then he goes on about how sweet she was to him. Showering him with compliments and saying he's the best boyfriend ever and blah, blah, blah.

This isn't the only time you've heard things about this girl. Always hungry for the camera type, won't take no for an answer type, pulls being stubborn off as being cute type, whines to her boyfriend until he says 'yes' type. Type you don't like, and the type you reckon isn't the best for Marc, either.

He talks about how happy he is to be able to make her happy and comfortable, since he's playing professional football now, but you've figured out that this girl is clearly just getting money and attention from him for her own good, and probably doesn't really care about him as a person. Not to mention, dating Marc Guiu- though he's certainly not the most well known footballer- makes you famous on some level, for sure.

Finally Marc seems to snap, "Why don't you like Olivia, anyway?"

You frown, hesitating, before saying, "Do you really want me to answer honestly?"

"Of course I do!"

"Well, alright. I'm concerned for you, because to me, it seems clear this girl only wants you for the money, clout, and attention, and doesn't really care about you as a person. I care about you as a person, so therefore, I want you to see you in a relationship with someone who does, too. I mean, you give her things all the time- what has she ever done for you?"

Marc doesn't seem very happy with this proclamation from you, understandably enough. "I don't know! Kisses me."

You snort ruefully at the dumb answer. "Ah, yes. Of course she does. She's got to keep you interested somehow, otherwise she'll lose all the money coming into her bank account. So she knows all she's got to do is keep you romantically, and possibly even sexually, pleased, and she won't stop getting what she wants. And it's easy for her to use you, because you're falling for her gorgeous looks and letting her. She's using you, clearly. I mean, it's clear to me."

"No, she's not," Marc snaps in annoyance, suddenly standing up. "You're just jealous."

"Jealous? Of what?"

"I don't know! Of her being pretty? Of her being my girlfriend?" He scoffs and walks to the door. "I'm leaving now."

You watch as the door shuts behind him.

So that means Marc doesn't think I'm pretty?

Of course he doesn't, Y/n. He has a girlfriend who's drop-dead beautiful.

And why would he think you'd be jealous of her being his girlfriend?

You don't want to be his girlfriend- at least you don't think so.

It makes you mad to think he would immediately assume your words came from a place of selfishness. They didn't. They're from a place of concern, for your best friend.

For your best friend, who now is avoiding you like the plague.

You haven't seen Marc in two months. You haven't heard him, either. You've only exchanged a few dry text conversations that really did nothing.

You stand up on the rooftop of your apartment building, staring out and down at the sparkling cities lights. Up here, fog has set in, and you feel a chill go through your body. You tighten your jacket around yourself, breathing in the scent of it.

You feel guilty for wearing this coat, though you don't know why.

It's actually Marc's. About a year ago, he left it at your house, and it became yours. When he saw you wearing it, his eyes had lightened up, so though he didn't say anything about it, you know he knew it was his.

And you know it's kind of gross, but you never washed it. You don't wear it often, and frankly, you love the smell of it. It reminds you of him.

And right now, you need to be reminded of him, since you haven't seen him in way too long.

You walk to the ledge and climb up on the barrier, sitting on the flat top of it, letting your legs dangle over.

You feel a little rush travel through your veins at this risky position, before your body calms itself again, and the melancholy feeling returns.

"No one can hear me up here," you say into the air.

"I could say whatever I want, and it wouldn't matter. It could all just get caught in this thick fog and float away. I could forget about it, and pretend it never happened, because no one else is here to hear it."

You let out a shaky breath.

"Marc, I could tell you everything. I could say whatever I want up here, and you wouldn't even know it. It wouldn't matter."

For some reason, at this, your voice cracks a little.

You say softer, "It wouldn't matter, would it?"

You breathe deeply gasping a bit down at the Barcelona street dozens of feet below you.

"Even if I screamed, no one would hear me!" you say, your voice raising.

And you do scream: "Marc! I'll bet my life I care about you more than she does! My life!"

You stare apologetically down.

I guess I'm in he perfect spot to lose that bet.

You feel hot tears threaten at your eyes as you continue, softer, "I want you to be happy.

"You're not happy with her.

"I bet you could be happy with me, Marc."

You sniff, not even sure what you're saying. You've never said things like this before.

But now, alone, knowing nothing you say really matters? It's easier to say things you never really knew you even thought.

"She's not good for you," you practically whine, rubbing at your eyes, getting warm salty liquid all down the back of your hand.

"You're my best friend," you whimper. "And now you're leaving me alone for some faker you just met a few months ago!

"I've known you for years!"

You scream, choking up a little, "Does that mean nothing to you?"

Not even your echo answers you.

You watch as a tear fall off your cheek, and down.

And down and down.

And at some point, it hits the street below.

The thought is surreal, and makes you feel a bit dizzy, even. You clutch the side of the ledge tighter.

Your knuckles are white as you call into the night, your tone lined with tears, "What if I told you I loved you? Would you even care?"

Your head spins. "Would you?"

You shut your eyes and let out a sob, feeling the lights and cars move below you, feeling alone, and separated from the world. Isolated.

But most of all, just very, very confused.

You thought you would be happy to see Marc again. But when you open your door to see him standing there, looking like a wreck, you're not happy.

Not one bit.

"What happened?" you ask as you view the boy with his red, puffy eyes and messy hair.

"Can I come in?"

You sigh, opening the door for him, but comment rudely, "So you only show up at my house, after ignoring me, basically, for two months, because something happened, and you need help?"

"Please, Y/n. That's not the only reason," he sighs, sitting down on your couch with you. You cross your arms, staring at him.

"Then, what?"

"I'm sorry. I realize you were right, now. All along. I was stupid."

"So she broke up with you, huh?"

"I broke up with her."

Your eyebrows shoot up. "What finally knocked you out of your delusions?"

He shrugs. "Your words never stopped bugging me, in the back of my head. Then she started pushing me for more. More, more, more. More money, more attention, more... well, things I wasn't comfortable with so early in our relationship."

You nod slowly. "Right..."

"So, I realized you were right. She's-" his voice breaks. "She's so f*cking greedy."

You lick your lips, still nodding, staring down at the floor.

"But I feel like it was wrong. She begged me to stay... she said she thought I loved her... But I've got to love myself, too, and she was draining me dry. Taking my- my everything."

You nod, finally softening. You put your arm around his back as he stares ahead. A single tear falls slowly down his cheek, before he hastily wipes it away with another sigh. "You did the right thing, Marc. You should have listened from the beginning, but I'm happy you realized it."

"What if I broke her heart, though?"

"That's her fault for getting into a relationship just to use someone! And besides," you add bitterly, "those were probably just crocodile tears."

"You... you think?"

You snort. "I know, Marc."

He hesitates, before saying, turning to look you in your eyes, "I'm sorry... for distancing myself from my best friend like that. I thought you were jealous. I should have taken you for your word."

You swallow back a lump in your throat. You put your hand on his and murmur, "It's okay... I forgive you."

"You- You do?"

You blink in surprise. "Of course I do, Marc. That's what friends are for. Friends will always be there, even when you walk away."

And then your breath hitches when suddenly, he pulls you into a tight hug, half pulling you onto his lap. His hand gently rubs your lower back, which gives you butterflies, and you're extremely aware of every point in which your bodies are touching. "Thank you so much, Y/n," he breathes.

You bury your head in his shoulder, murmuring, "You're welcome. I'm just glad to have my Marc back."

"Your Marc?" he grins, leaning back to meet your eyes. His deep, light brown, gentle eyes. "I like the sound of that. You know, being called yours."

You blush at that. "Only if I can be called yours, too."

He grins and mutters, "You'll always be my best friend first, Y/n. I know I just ended a relationship... but..."

"Oh, God," you squeak, eyes widening. "Are you-"

"I mean, if you-"

"Yeah, I could-"

"Good," he grins, pulling you back into the tight hug. You can feel his heart beating quickly against your chest. He leans his head against your shoulder and gives your neck a little kiss.

"So, you-" you breathe, "you love me- me back?"

His mouth smiles against your neck. "Yeah. I think I've known you long enough to say I love you."

You grin and trace the words into his back.

I love you.

"I'm glad you came around, Marc."

"I'm glad I came around, too, Y/n."

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

I Believe You, But Tell Me Again

(x)

Summary: Y/N is wondering if Jensen still sees her as he used to.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Lots of fluffy smut. Sexy af Jensen. Rockstar!Jensen. Definitely a warning. Unprotected PinV sex. Oral (f receiving), Brief fingering, some slightly insecure thoughts, established relationship. Fluff.

Pairings: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 3,314

A/N: This fic is a request by @lacilou .

I'm not sure if you're taking requests, but I can't get this out of my head. Jensen, in the photo you're using for Off and On Again. Where he's super hot, and he knows it. Kinda cocky but totally in love with the reader (established relationship - married, long-time girlfriend??) And reader doesn't understand why he's so into her, but she KNOWS it even though Jensen has to remind her with "Feel this? It's all for you, "while he's holding the reader's hand over his bulge. If you could throw in "this what you want?" while he's slowly stroking himself as he walks towards the reader, lust in his eyes.

I hope you enjoy it sweetie, and everyone else too.

The dividers below were created by @talesmaniac89

The lights were bright, slightly blinding, as Y/N sat in front of the two cameras aimed at her. There were two cameras so they could decide later on which side was her better side. Or possibly her worse side, depending on the tone of the interview. 

Y/N squinted at the primped and stylish woman sitting across from her getting her makeup touched up. She wondered, would this interview be a friendly one? An interview to say, “Look everyone! Aren’t the Ackles great?” Or would it be one of those interviews that had an edge of nasty hovering just beneath the smile of the interviewer. 

She watched this interviewer, Shauna, pull away from her makeup artist, scowling. “It’s fine, Lisa. Just leave it alone.” 

Uh oh.

The interview started off friendly enough, touching on the things most journalists talked to her about - Jensen’s incredible skyrocketing success, his status as a rockstar icon, what a talent he was. As Jensen’s biggest fan, Y/N always enjoyed those kinds of questions. She couldn’t get enough of bragging about her ridiculously talented husband. 

But then the mood of the interview shifted and Shauna started asking much more pointed questions. 

“Now, Y/N, you and Jensen have been married over a decade now, right?” Y/N nodded. “Is there a secret to your success?” Shauna was smiling, but Y/N could see that her gray eyes were calculating.

It was a question she’d been asked a lot in the last couple of years as their ten year anniversary came and went. People seemed very interested in the fact that their marriage had lasted so much longer than had been anticipated. When Jensen had started dating her, just a nobody from nowhere, everyone had predicted it wouldn’t last. 

People on social media and angry people with podcasts all had an opinion on their relationship.

-- She’s not cut out for the limelight.

-- It’s way too hard for someone like her.

-- She’s not used to the media. She’s gonna break under the pressure.

-- He’s a rockstar who could literally get any girl he wanted. So, what’s up with him picking her?

-- It won’t last. These showbiz marriages never do.

But ten years on, now people were wondering how they actually made it to a decade. “What’s the secret?” They all wanted to know.

“There’s really no secret, Shauna.” Y/N said with a smile. “When two people are madly in love with each other, when they respect each other and work together as partners, staying together becomes much easier.” 

It was a variation on the same answer she’d given dozens of times. It happened to be true, but Y/N was still tired of trying to find new ways to explain to people that they got married because they loved each other, and they stayed married because the alternative was unthinkable for either of them.

Shauna smiled a sharp smile. “And in all those years, you’ve never been worried about the rock and roll lifestyle…leading Jensen astray?”

Y/N kept smiling because she couldn’t falter and let the reporter know she’d scored a hit. They weren’t usually that pointed with the infidelity question. Usually they skirted around it, saying things like, “Does it ever get hard when he’s on the road?” or “You must miss him when he’s touring. How do you keep tabs on him?” 

Y/N’s personal favorite version of this question came from a middle-aged woman reporter with lipstick on her teeth. “Have you ever just shown up to surprise him, or tried to catch him being naughty?” It was said with a cheeky grin as though they were just besties chatting, but Y/N had wanted to snatch the woman bald.

Shauna’s version of the question was the closest anyone had ever come to asking her outright, “Do you worry about your husband cheating on you?”

Y/N kept smiling and shook her head. “No, never. If you knew Jensen, you wouldn’t wonder about it either. He’s the most loyal man I’ve ever known, and the most honorable. I know beyond a doubt that he doesn’t take our vows lightly, and that he would never, ever hurt me like that.”

Shauna seemed slightly taken aback by Y/N’s adamant, genuine answer, clearly expecting some anger or some kind of dramatic reaction from her. When she didn't get it, the reporter just smiled again.

“So sweet.” Was her response, acid dripping from her words.

***

The day of interviews had taken quite a bit out of Y/N, especially the last one, and she was tired as she wandered out to the limousine that was waiting to take her and Jensen back to their hotel, whenever he was done with his part of the press junket.

The limo driver opened the door for her and smiled. “Fatima says Mr. Ackles is almost finished and will be out in about ten minutes. Do you want to wait for him? Or should I take you and send another car for him?”

Y/N smiled back and shook her head. “No, let’s wait for him.”

“Okay, great.” The driver said as he closed the door behind her. 

In less than ten minutes, she saw Jensen push out of the double doors, and amble towards the car. He wore black jeans that clung to his thick thighs, and a gray t-shirt covered by a black, long-sleeved denim shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing the veins and corded muscles in his forearms - muscles he’d gained by long hours spent playing the guitar.

As he got closer to the car, she watched him push a hand through his long hair, sweeping it off his forehead, and she sighed deeply. Good God, he was so stunningly sexy. 

Even when he was just walking, he moved with the same seductive grace he used like a siren song onstage. No matter how many times Y/N watched him in concert, she never got used to that kind of magnetic, cocky seductiveness that poured out of him when he was singing. He knew he drove people crazy. He knew it, and it just made him smile.

He was smiling now as he climbed into the car. “Hey beautiful.”

Y/N smiled tiredly at him, feeling her heart warm at his usual greeting. When he settled into the seat, he reached over and pulled her into his lap.

She squealed lightly as he lifted her, and then chuckled. “You know there are seatbelts we’re supposed to be wearing.”

Jensen shrugged and squeezed her tighter against him. “Nah! I gotcha.” 

Y/N laughed again. “Oh, okay then.” She said, snuggling closer to him. The interview had knocked her off kilter a bit, and it felt especially good to have Jensen’s arms wrapped around her. 

She tucked her head under his chin, and he ran his big hand up and down her arm. “Hey,” he said with concern lacing his voice, “everything okay?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, just a long day sitting in the same room, being asked basically the same questions.” She shrugged. “I just wanna get home. Or, well, hotel.”

Jensen accepted her answer, kissing her forehead and then her lips. “Me too.” 

They ordered in their dinner, neither of them keen to face more crowds and questions, and spent the evening watching some trashy reality TV before calling it a night a bit earlier than usual.

Y/N went into the bathroom to get ready. She brushed her teeth and took off her makeup, and as she stood in front of the mirror she looked at her face closely. 

There were some lines there that hadn’t been there when she first met Jensen. She knew there was a gray hair or two hiding amongst the rest that also hadn't existed back then. 

She pulled her silk nightgown tight against her body and could see where she was rounder than she had been when she was younger. Her muscle tone wasn’t as good. 

I should hit the gym more, she thought.

She pinched one of her love handles and pulled at her skin, wondering what Jensen really thought about all these changes. She knew he loved her, knew that he’d always found her attractive. But how was that holding up these days? Did he still feel the same kind of heat for her? Did he still want her as desperately as she still wanted him?

She jumped slightly as Jensen popped up in the mirror behind her to wrap his arms around her waist, and nuzzle his face in the crook of her neck. He wore his pajama bottoms and nothing more. She looked at his biceps flexing around her as he squeezed her back against him, and his round, muscled shoulders, broad and strong, and she sighed. He was still so unbelievably perfect.

She lightly tapped his forearm where it rested just below her breasts. “You scared me.” She said, her voice accusatory.

He chuckled. “Sorry, I thought you heard me.” He caught her eye in the mirror. “But you seemed to be lost in thought.”

He moved his lips to her temple. “What thoughts are swirling around in that beautiful mind of yours? Hmm?” He murmured. 

She shrugged a shoulder. “Nothing.” 

Jensen’s face in the mirror wore a disbelieving look. “Don’t believe that for a second.” He pulled back slightly, and turned her in his arms so she was facing him. A small line of worry was creased between his brows.

“You’ve been quiet all evening; something is obviously on your mind.”

Y/N shrugged again and looked down at their bare feet. “Just tired.”

Jensen put his knuckle under her chin and made her look at him. “Y/N. Tell me.”

Y/N was caught completely by surprise as her eyes welled up with tears. She didn’t know where these doubts were coming from or why she was feeling this way. Maybe it was just one too many snide questions.

Jensen’s face crumpled as he saw her tears. He cupped her cheeks and brushed them away as they spilled over her lashes. “Baby.” His voice was worried and confused. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong? What happened?”

Y/N shook her head. “No, nothing happened. Really. It was just this reporter.” 

Jensen waited for her to continue, but his worried expression darkened slightly in anger.

Y/N bit her lip and debated what to tell him, how to explain the feelings she barely understood herself. Finally she just went for the honesty they’d always had with each other; they’d never been afraid to ask for what they needed from one another, and what she needed was reassurance.

“Do you still want me? I mean, the same as you used to.”

Jensen seemed completely taken aback by the question. Clearly that hadn’t been where he expected this conversation to go. He shook his head.

“Why would you even ask that? Of course I do.”

Y/N frowned. “Don’t just tell me what I want to hear. Please, tell me the truth. Are there things about me you’d change if you could?”

Jensen’s expression turned thunderous and he dropped his hands from her cheeks to grip her upper arms. “Y/N.” He said firmly. “What the hell are you talking about? Where is this coming from? Of course I don’t want you to change.”

“I don’t mean my personality, or whatever.” Y/N explained wiping her tears away with both hands. “But my face or my body, the way I look. I know it isn’t the same as when we first met.”

Jensen shook his head, his voice incredulous. “Well no, you don’t look exactly the same as the day I met you over a decade ago.” He blew out an exasperated breath. “But you know, I’m pretty sure I don’t either.”

Y/N felt her skin flush. “But you’ve just gotten hotter.” She frowned. “Guys do that.” 

She opened her mouth to say something more, but Jensen slammed his mouth down on hers, sweeping his tongue into her mouth and invading her completely. She let out a little whimper as his hands let go of her arms to grab her ass and press her hard against him. He kissed her long, deep, swallowing every soft moan.

When he pulled back his voice was husky with want. “Baby, I don’t know where these questions are coming from, but I know the answers.” 

He grabbed Y/N’s hand and placed it on his hard cock where it tented his pajama bottoms, obviously not restrained by underwear. She bit her lip as he closed his eyes and groaned when she wrapped her fingers around him. 

“Feel this? It’s all for you, all because of you. Fuck, Y/N do you see what you do to me? Still? Always?” He pushed aside some of the bottles and jars that littered the countertop and lifted her onto it easily. His hand slipped between her legs and he groaned at her bare, wet pussy. “Believe me when I tell you that I want you. Every day. All the time. Years don’t change that.”

He shook his head. “In fact they just make things better cause now I know what happens if I do this.” 

He dipped his head, sucking her satin clad nipple into his mouth, while his thick middle finger slid inside her body at the same time. A strangled cry left her lips and she thumped her head back against the mirror.

She felt him smile against her. “Exactly.”

He took his hand out of her to tug on her nightgown. She shifted slightly so he could pull the silky material over her head as he continued.  “And yet, your body’s always a revelation to me. It never stops fascinating me.” His eyes followed the path of his fingers as he trailed them down her arms and then over the soft swell of her breasts. Gooseflesh erupted on her skin and her nipples puckered.

He circled his forefinger around the tight little bud, before dipping his head once again to flick the tip of his tongue against it. 

Y/N moaned deeply and wrapped her fingers up in his honey brown locks. “Jensen.” She gasped as he sucked her breast into his mouth and drew on it deeply, causing her cunt to clench and quiver.

He pulled her forward, to the edge of the counter, and then dropped to his knees. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and pulled her wide open so he could reach his tongue up to tease her hole. Y/N plunged her hand back into his hair and tugged on it before pushing his head harder against her dripping pussy. 

“God, fuck Jensen, yes.” She rambled.

He hummed against her folds before nibbling at her clit, making her knees try to lock around his ears. But his superior strength kept her legs spread wide so he could feast. He breathed hot against her, alternating between flicking his tongue against her clit and sucking it between his plump, luscious lips.

It wasn’t long before Y/N was bucking against his mouth as she rode out her climax while he lapped up her juices. She panted desperately and tugged on his hair again, begging him. “Please Jensen, fuck me. I need to feel you, need you inside me so badly.”

Jensen stood and scooped her off the counter, walking back into their bedroom. He laid her out on the bed, making sure her head was propped up on the pillows, before stepping away from her. He moved far enough back so that she had an unencumbered view as he slowly lowered his pajama bottoms. 

His cock sprang free to lean, hard and dripping, against his stomach. Y/N felt her mouth go dry and a keening moan erupted from her throat as he gripped himself in his fist, pumping slowly.

He walked towards her one slow step at a time. His voice was a growl. “Is this what you want?” She nodded, biting her lips and trying desperately not to come again, just from watching him.

“Tell me you want it.” Jensen ordered.

Y/N nodded again, almost frantically. “Yes, fuck. I want it. I want your cock.” She reached for him as he stood barely a foot from the side of the bed. “I need it. I need you.”

Jensen climbed onto the bed on his knees, grabbing up her wrists with both hands and pressing them into the pillows on either side of her head. He stared into her eyes as he spoke. 

“And I need you too, Y/N. I need you desperately, obsessively. I need you every waking minute. I need your love and your kindness. I need your good soul and beautiful heart.” He entered her in one hard thrust and she cried out. “But I also need your soft body. I need to sink into you. I need to feel you move against me. I need to hear you say my name like a moan. I need to feel you clench tight around me.”

He began moving slowly, sliding in and out of her with silky, unhurried movements. “I will always love you. I will always want you. And I will never need you any less than completely.” He cupped her cheek with one hand. “Do you understand me?”

Y/N nodded and gasped as his cock slid over her sweet spot. “Yes. Yes.” Was all she could manage to chant. But it satisfied him and he began to move faster.

He switched positions slightly so he could lift her hips off the bed, hooking her knees over his forearms. He began to slam into her, hitting that same sweet spot over and over until Y/N was screaming out her overwhelming pleasure and falling into euphoria. 

Jensen continued to jackhammer into her, grunting harshly with each thrust. He pounded into her pussy over and over until she was once again on the precipice of bliss. As his hips faltered, he dropped one of her legs so he could slide his thumb between their bodies and swirl it against her clit. She screamed again and fell for the third time, clenching around him and pulling his climax out of him, along with her own.

The familiar aftermath of damp skin pressed together and lungs starved for oxygen, brought Y/N a kind of all encompassing satisfaction and peace. When Jensen finally rolled off of her, she rolled with him, so she could slot herself up against his side, wrapping one arm over his ribs and laying her head on his chest as he ran his fingers teasingly up and down her back making her shiver.

They were both quiet for a few minutes before Jensen broke the silence. “Y/N tell me the truth.” He said, and Y/N could hear the protectiveness and anger on her behalf permeating his tone. “Did someone say something or do something to hurt you today?”

But she just shook her head. “No, it wasn’t any different than a million other interviews really.” She shrugged. “Something about it just hit me, I guess.”

She raised up on her elbow, chin in her hand, to look at him. “But if you tell me you love me as truly, madly, deeply as you did the day we met, then I believe you.”

Jensen frowned slightly. “Are you comparing me to a Savage Garden song?”

Y/N giggled, but ignored the question, kissing him softly before laying her head back down on his chest. She smiled against his skin as she spoke. 

“I believe you, but tell me again.”

Jensen’s breath ruffled her hair as he sighed contentedly. “I will love you, and desperately want to devour you, every single day of my life - for the rest of my life.”

Y/N nodded, and her voice was full of confidence as she snuggled closer. “Thought so.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @akshi8278 @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

[missmonsters2]

—Just Last Lifetime | Two

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: Wednesday is determined to recreate the special moments of your relationship to revive your memories—to revive your feelings. But it becomes apparent that the same memories cannot be created twice.

Warnings: Heavy Angst. Heartbroken!Wednesday. DestinedToBeAlone!Wednesday. Amnesia. Flashbacks. Violent emotional outbursts.

PART ONE

Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Note: so this is it! The end...haha unless...👀 lol jk...unless ☝️

Count: 4.9k

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"We're going somewhere for our studies today."

You look curiously at Wednesday, clutching the straps of your backpack a little tighter at the sudden spring of information. 

Wednesday pretends to not notice your anxiousness, turning to walk off and expecting you to follow. She pays attention to the footsteps behind her, satisfied that you trail along despite clearly being reluctant. 

It's been easier to spend time with you lately, with Yoko being incredibly busy with her club activities, and Enid has been keeping herself busy on purpose to leave you with no choice but to spend time with Wednesday. 

Wednesday doesn't think you particularly hate spending time with her. You're always cordial and friendly. You've thanked her multiple times for taking the time to help you catch up on your studies and assistance with your current assignments. 

Just a few days ago, you gifted her 99% dark chocolate for all the help. Wednesday had been intrigued, thinking you recalled how she preferred the bitter taste. But the intrigue swiftly died when you informed her Enid let you know as you wanted to do something for her. 

It didn't matter. It was the fact alone that you went out of your way to give Wednesday something she'd like that mattered. 

"Where are we going?" You ask, your voice tinged with curiosity and wariness the further you walk past the school entrance, clearly leaving. "Are we actually studying?"

Wednesday's eyes peer to the corner of her eyes to look at you. 

"You study too much."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Then.

"You spend too much time investigating, Wednesday." 

Wednesday didn't even look up at you as she continued to pack her backpack for the day. 

"I thought you were interested in coming along to find answers?" Wednesday's voice was dispassionate. There was a part of her that was tinged with annoyance that you constantly invited yourself along to her trips if you were just going to get sick of tagging along now. 

"I very much am, but we've clearly hit a wall and I'm not particularly looking forward to walking around in circles in the forest today," you pursed your lip but then smiled. "Why don't we take a little bit of a break today? If you really want to, we can continue investigating tonight instead."

"You're willing to sneak out?" Wednesday raised her brow at you. She thought you were ridiculous for trying to bargain with her. The investigation was important, and Wednesday had no desire to lose any time. 

She would investigate, and you were free to come along or not. 

"I'll break any rule for you, Wednesday."

You said it in such a natural way, and Wednesday found that she was unable to reply right away. She looked back down at the ground for a moment, blinking before she looked back up at you.

"Where are we going?"

Wednesday had several ideas of where you might take her. There was the music hall, the planetarium, or even the garden. But what she hadn't expected was that you'd take her to the carnival.

"You didn't get to enjoy it, right?" You asked as you stepped out of the taxi, paying the driver cash. Wednesday didn't answer, but you knew the answer. "I mean, probably hard to enjoy since you were chasing the Hyde and almost died after Rowan did."

That was another one of the reasons why Wednesday didn't mind that you came along with her investigations. You were the only person who believed her when she said Rowan was dead, despite also being of the people who saw him in the aftermath. 

When Wednesday asked why you believed her, you simply said she didn't come across as someone who would lie about it. So, if he was dead, he was dead. 

"I suppose," Wednesday looked at the carnival before her. It was moderately busy for a weekend, and she wasn't particularly interested in doing any of these mundane activities. 

"Alright," you clapped your hands, bringing Wednesday's attention to you. "We're on a mission today. I come here every year the carnival opens up to win the biggest prize, but my tickets were short since the carnival got cut short last time with the entire…situation."

"What are you trying to win?" Wednesday asked.

You grin at her, pointing far down the carnival with a specific booth. "That mini motorcycle."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

"This is rigged," Wednesday seethed, glaring at the booth worker who was nervously sweating ever since she approached. 

You laughed, grabbing Wednesday's attention and the relief of the worker. "I know, right? We're totally just losing money at this point."

It was a simple game. A gun with 9 rubber bullets and 10 balloons to pop, and you had to win 5 times in a row with no supernatural abilities to get enough tickets to win the motorcycle. 

It was not impossible, Wednesday knew that, but the balloons were not close enough where she could get away with hitting two with one rubber bullet. 

They've both spent $100 at this point and while Wednesday would get 9 of 10 balloons every time, you would hit one balloon before you missed every other shot, hitting the corner of the wooden target. 

As often as you refilled, it was starting to wear a dent. 

"You're terrible at this," Wednesday bluntly said, but you merely smiled and shrugged. 

A bit of wind was picking up, making the balloons circle around in their spot. Wednesday spotted her opportunity and chance when two balloons circled close enough towards each other, barely grazing. 

Wednesday timed it perfectly and shot her 9 bullets, using her last one to wait as they circled towards each other before shooting and getting them both. 

"Oh," you grinned. "That was really impressive." 

Wednesday didn't react to your praise, waiting for the worker to rotate the next round of balloons and repeating her actions while the wind continued. 

So far, Wednesday has won 4 times in a row. She had to pause as the wind died down, but it was sure to come back in a few moments.  

"What do you want if we both win?" You asked. "There's only one motorcycle, so you may have to settle for something else."

Wednesday snorted. "I'm not sure I should get my hopes up on getting anything." It was a dig at the fact you've been absolutely terrible with your shots.

"C'mon, Wednesday," you grinned. "Dream a little."

"I don't dream."

"Nightmare it up a little," you quickly rebuttal.

Wednesday sighed, looking at the prizes that hung and framed the booth. Outside of random useless knick knacks, there were just stuffed animals—which were also useless.

But Wednesday's eye caught on a large scorpion stuffed animal. She wasn't one for being sentimental, but this was as good as it would get.

"That," Wednesday pointed at the scorpion stuffed animal.

You looked at it, grinning as you knew the story behind it. "Sure thing."

The wind picked up again, and Wednesday took the opportunity to win the 5th time in a row. The booth worker, whom Wednesday also assumed was the owner, looked relieved and reluctant to hand over the mini-motorcycle.

"I don't want to stand here for hours," Wednesday deadpanned, having already spent 2 and a half hours winning this prize for you. You would be here for 2 and a half days at the rate you were going.

"We're just about finished," you told Wednesday, and she raises her brow, thinking you'd given up. 

But you slap down another $20 bill, smirking. Wednesday looked to your side of the targets and noticed the small dent you've managed to create with the rubber bullets. She narrowed her eyes, wondering if that was your plan all along. 

Wednesday gets her answer within minutes. Suddenly, you've turned into a master marksman, shooting every balloon precisely until you were down the last two side by side. You tilted your gun, aiming it at the target, where you created a dent in the side. When you shot the bullet, it shot inside the hole and bounced against the wood, flying out with just enough force to hit the two balloons from the side. 

Wednesday furrowed her brows in disbelief. 

It continued like that until you won 5 times in a row without pausing. The owner looked like he wanted to say something but merely rolled his eyes with a certain kind of fondness Wednesday was sure you earned over the years coming here. 

"The tickets get you two of these," the owner said, handing you two large scorpion stuffed animals.

"Did you have fun?" you grinned at Wednesday.

"It was passable," Wednesday admits, unable to fully say that even mundane activities like carnival games were interesting if she was with you. 

As you left the booth, you handed Wednesday the stuffed scorpions to hold while taking the mini motorcycle. 

"Look," you said. "Now your scorpion has a little friend to keep them company, or a little girlfriend," you wriggled your brows at her while Wednesday sighed, not commenting back.

She looks at the motorcycle and then at you. "Do you even know how to operate this?"

You smiled at Wednesday. "Not at all."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Now.

The biggest prize of the carnival is still the mini motorcycle, as they don't change the award until next year. It seems they've stocked up since the last time the two of you were here. 

Wednesday knows you already have one, but it wouldn't hurt to have another one. 

You seem spirited to be at the carnival playing games, as it's obviously familiar to you. 

They walk up to the same booth with the same owner, who clearly recognizes them.

"Oh, not again," he sighs. "You're going to run me out of business. Any chance I can talk you out of winning again?"

You look confused, but when you see the motorcycle as the prize, a moment of recognition dawns on your face from the one in the corner of your room. "I've already won this," you slowly say as a confirmation but not as a memory. 

"Close," Wednesday drawls. "I won it."

You look confused as to why Wednesday would win the big prize for you, but before you question it, Wednesday speaks again. "It's time to repay the favor and win me one too."

You smile weakly as if the pressure is on, but you pick up the gun, studying the targets. The dent you created on the target was gone as the owner replaced it. You play a couple of rounds to get a feel of the game, while Wednesday puts little effort into her own game. It's unlikely there'd be wind again this time around. Even if Wednesday now knew the other method, it was something Wednesday hoped you would get on your own. 

As time goes on, you're starting to get the idea of how to win. It's rather satisfying to watch you get to the same conclusion. 

Wednesday takes her time achieving the same method as you. You're focused on your own game, not checking how Wednesday's faring. 

You both created a dent relatively around the same time before shooting in sync, winning 5 times in a row. 

The owner sighs, shaking his head and muttering about changing the rules about damaging the targets to win. Still, he hands you the motorcycle before asking what else you want.

"Uh," you hesitate, looking at the various prizes before you. Your eyes spot two stuffed animals that make you grin. "The bat and the wolf, please."

With the prizes in tow, the two of you leave the booth. 

"What are you going to do with the mini motorcycle?" You ask. 

"Teach you how to ride," Wednesday bluntly tells you. 

You look surprised. "Oh," you chuckled weakly. "Right, I guess I probably told you I wouldn't know how to ride one."

Wednesday doesn't know what to say about your comment, so she veers off topic. "What are you going to do with the stuffed animals?" Wednesday internally sighs at the ridiculousness of the question. There are very limited things you can do with stuffed animals. 

"I'm going to give them to Yoko and Enid," you smile. 

"Right," Wednesday mutters, feeling something bitter rise in her throat but unable to identify it. Despite coming here and doing it correspondingly, none of this feels the same. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

You shrug your shoulders before nodding. "It's not bad to take a break from studying."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

The second time Wednesday takes you somewhere, you give her a confused smile.

"I'm pretty behind on my classes still," you gently point out, hinting that you're not up for another day of playing hooky, and Wednesday concedes with a nod.

"I'm aware. We aren't taking a break today," Wednesday clarifies, "we're merely studying in a different scenery." 

The walk is silent as you follow Wednesday's lead. She takes you further down the river to an area you haven't explored before until you eventually reach a tall wisteria tree, probably the only one in Vermont, preserved with magic. 

"Wow," you breathe in awe, "I didn't know we had one so near campus."

The gothic girl is lost in her thoughts as she settles near the base of the tree, grabbing the books from her backpack on autopilot. 

You used to trail beside her, and now you always walk one step behind. 

It's something Wednesday noticed as she took you around various parts of the school during your study sessions in an attempt to recreate the memories. She knows you're starting to find her odd, but Wednesday can't afford to tell you what she's really trying to do.

Wednesday's goal wasn't necessarily to make you remember everything by taking you to these places that hold special memories. If you never remember, that's okay. What Wednesday wants is to recreate the memories in hopes they'll lead the two of you down the same path it did the first time.

But instead of growing closer like you did the first time, it feels like you're pulling further away. 

Even so, Wednesday can't stop trying. 

"Um," you mumble as you search through your notebooks. "I was hoping we could pick up where we left off on ancient languages?"

Wednesday nods, and the two of you delve into the usual strict business of studying. 

Everything is fine, and Wednesday is grading one of your practice sheets while you work on another. It's fine until she notices your trembling fingers. It's subtle as you were obviously trying to hide it, tightening your hands into fists and keeping them at your sides as you attentively look at the worksheet.

"I can't seem to understand the syntax—" you start to say but abruptly stop when Wednesday suddenly stands up, reaches up, and rips off a wisteria flower stock from the tree. She sits back down, reaching over and grabbing your wrist. The gentle squeezing of her hold prompts you to open your hand up, and Wednesday places wisteria stock into your hand.

The shaking stops, and Wednesday begins explaining the syntax to you without skipping a beat while you stare at her, stunned.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Then.

"Let's go to the wisteria tree," you were holding Wednesday's hand as you dragged her along. "Today is such a beautiful day, and your skin is way too fair—I mean pale—I mean pallor—to be out in the sun."

Wednesday merely gave you an unimpressed look. 

"Once again, you're disrupting my investigations. At this rate, it will take me a lifetime to solve the murders going on here," Wednesday's tone was disgruntled. "It would tarnish not only my reputation but also my ego, and I will make sure you die a miserable death for doing so."

"Ignoring the fact that everyone on campus would totally be dead," you turned around and grinned, "We'd have spent a lifetime together—before you killed me, of course."

You didn't add anything else to your words, but Wednesday could catch the insinuations between the lines. 

A lifetime together. 

A lifetime with you. 

The idea didn't displease Wednesday at all; if anything, the fact that it didn't was more disgruntling. 

A large wisteria tree appeared, and the two of you easily settled in. Wednesday was grateful that she had an inkling she should bring a book today in her bag. 

"I love this place," you sighed with happiness. "I can't believe you found this place, and I've never noticed it in the years I've been going here."

"It's colorful," Wednesday drawled in response. The flowers that grew were vibrant violet and lavender, something she thought was entirely putrid, but she knew you would love it. 

Wednesday was about to say something else when she noticed your fingers were shaking.

"What's wrong with your hands?" Wednesday asked with narrowed eyes.

You looked down, finding you were shaking, before clenching your hands into fists. "It's nothing, it just happens sometimes."

"It's not nothing," Wednesday seethed, angered that you would dare lie to her face. "Why is it shaking? What's wrong?"

You looked like you were debating something for a long moment before you asked her. "Can you grab me one of the wisteria flower stocks?"

Wednesday narrows her eyes at your avoidance, but she gets up, pulls a flower stock off from one of the branches, and passes it to you as she sits down.

"Why does it shake like that?" Wednesday demanded again.

"It's my power," you answer softly, wrapping your fingers around the flower. Wednesday watched as the flower in your handle steadily withered and died. You were smiling at her, but your eyes had a distinct melancholy look.

"This happens when I don't use my powers enough or use them too much. Air is generally made up of a lot of different gases but too little or too much of one causes disruptions in my body because the equilibrium between the air outside and the air inside my body isn't stabilized," you shrugged, holding the withered wisteria flowers in your hands that no longer shook. "I try not to if I can, but plants are a cheat way for me to expel and absorb air to find the equilibrium."

"Why not? It's obviously the most efficient way to stop the shaking," Wednesday frowned. 

You shrugged. "I don't think it's a good idea for people to realize there are drawbacks to my powers and how to fix them. It may start with plants, but people will eventually start fearing I can use people the same way."

"Can you?"

You quirked your lip in response, and Wednesday knew the answer. 

"Besides," you sighed, dropping the dead wisteria stock with a regretful frown. "Some plants are really beautiful. It's a shame to kill them."

Wednesday looked up at the hanging flowers and scrunched her nose in disgust. "I encourage you to kill this offensively colorful tree."

"When it makes you so miserable? I can't deprive you of that."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Now.

The silence drags on too long, and your lack of response prompts Wednesday to look at you.

You're staring at her before Wednesday watches peer down at your hand, intensely in thought. There's a mix of disbelief and curiosity in your eyes, and Wednesday doesn't understand why. 

This was normal.

"Wednesday," you call her name softly, making Wednesday's eyes nearly flutter at the sound. But the next words make her freeze. "Was I in love with you?"

It's something in the way you say it, curious and accepting. Something rushes into Wednesday's chest like a stampede, and she realizes it's hope.

Your tone doesn't suggest you remember anything, but Wednesday rationalizes that it's fine. While it would be ideal that you remember everything, it's not a condition Wednesday holds. 

You’re biting your bottom lip, looking reluctant. The silence falls again and lingers until you speak up again, trying to be firm.

"Wednesday, I don't know you—at least not anymore. I don't know what I felt about you before the accident...but that's gone. I'm not going to feel it just because you bring me to places that mattered to us. I don't remember it and I don’t understand it."

Stop talking.

Wednesday wants you to stop talking. She closes her eyes, turning her head away as if that would stop her from hearing your words. 

You don't take the hint. 

"I don't feel that way about you anymore." 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

It was fine—it was. 

Wednesday spends the rest of her week doing various things. She writes, then she goes to the library; she briefly goes to the bee club until she can't stand Eugene's chattering and leaves. She goes on walks with Enid, who smartly avoids talking about you, and sometimes subjects herself to Xavier's monologuing and brooding in his art studio. 

Wednesday fills the days with various activities while simultaneously avoiding areas you'd be in. It's not that she's afraid of seeing you, but simply that she doesn't want to. 

This is fine. 

The day has come to an end, and the sun has long gone from the sky. Wednesday decides to return to her room and play the cello before bed.

This is for the best. 

Wednesday focuses her thoughts on her cello and what she'll play, and perhaps Thing will be there to turn the pages for her. 

It is meant to be this way. 

The room is dark when she enters, and Wednesday knows Enid is not around. There's a small feeling of relief that she doesn't need to face her roommate right now. 

The silence in the room feels jilting in a way Wednesday's not used to. She used to be content in the quiet...until you. Then she grew used to your presence and soft chatter around this hour. 

Wednesday clenches her fists.

Good riddance. 

You were a mistake, and you did her a favor by cutting ties. This was something Wednesday should've done herself a long time ago. 

Thing greets her on her bed, and she acknowledges him with a nod. She shreds off her backpack and changes out of her uniform before grabbing her cello and heading out onto the balcony.

The scuttling footsteps behind Wednesday tell her that Thing is quickly following. 

"Bring me the new music sheet to play," Wednesday directs. She needs to play something different that would require her focus instead of her usual repertoire, which would allow her mind to drift.

Wednesday starts playing immediately, eyes focusing on the notes she's playing while Thing diligently flips the pages for her. 

This is good.

This keeps her mind focused and sharp. Wednesday doesn't have time to think about anything else when she has to focus on what note she'll be playing next. 

Despite the new piece, though, Wednesday's mind begins to drift. She has to make a conscious effort to keep her focus on the music sheet in front of her, but you pop up in her mind interspersedly.

"Wednesday, I don't know you—at least not anymore."

Her fingers falter, her cello emitting a jagged sound from her mistake. It's so unbelievably frustrating. She hasn't ever made a mistake while playing her cello since she first started learning it as a child. Years and years have gone by without a single mistake, and it was all ruined because of you.

You plague her like a disease that festers under her skin. Wednesday's done her best to ignore you for days now. She's been ignoring the sight of you, the talks of you, and everything down to the thought of you. 

Yet, you were still there, underneath everything. You simmer like a slow boiling kettle until you can't be ignored anymore. 

Wednesday closes her eyes frustratingly, willing you to leave her mind. She threatens her brain to erase the thought of you. It'd clearly be so much easier to forget you. After all, look how simply you live now without a memory of Wednesday. 

But you don't go away. The memories remain with Wednesday, torturing her for what will likely be the rest of her life. 

This was not a form of torture Wednesday ever thought she'd have to endure. 

Wednesday opens her eyes and stands abruptly as she walks back inside. She didn't bother turning on the lights, and the only thing illuminating the room was the moonlight shining through the balcony.

"I don't feel that way about you anymore."

Wednesday clenches her jaw and tightens her grip on her cello. 

How entirely damning. 

Suddenly, a white-hot ball of rage forms in Wednesday's chest; everything she's been trying to push down for the last few days spills over. Emotions run a rampage inside her, unable to be controlled and ignored any longer. 

Wednesday lifts her cello before violently smashing it into the floor, the body of it breaking in an uneven half, wood splitting into multiple pieces. The tailpiece cracks, and the strings snap, one of them into Wednesday's hand and cutting it.

The rage and adrenaline in her body don't allow the pain to register, even if she can see the blood. 

How could you forget?

Wednesday begins destroying other parts of her side of the room—her bed, her clothes, her books. She pushes her wardrobe over and knocks over the chair at her desk, the loud banging ringing in her ears but not loud enough to cover the pain in her chest.

Thing scuttles back and forth in worry, but he cannot do anything to help his friend. He immediately leaves out the door with a mission. 

How could you not want to fall in love with her again?

Wednesday pushes her typewriter off her desk—she thrashes everything off her desk. Her beloved typewriter crashes into the floor, the carriage breaking off along with other various parts. Keys pop off, making a ruckus on the floor as they hit it, but it doesn't bring any relief. 

None of this is. 

Wednesday pulls open the drawer, grabs out her manuscript, and looks at the last few pages she's written. Viper falls in love with someone who helps her with her investigations, and Wednesday has written up to the part where Viper begrudgingly accepts that fact she has feelings for this person and accepts their confession. 

Wednesday has never gotten rid of any parts of her work all these years. Sure, she's done revisions and draft editing, but every scene down to its core idea has never been removed. Wednesday is a stern believer that every scene is meant to happen, and she cannot change the course of her writing when she looks back. 

But Wednesday begins to shred multiple pages. She shreds page after page but doesn't know when to stop. Should she stop before Viper gets involved with this person? 

Along with the anger settles in hollowness. 

It's the realization that even if Wednesday destroys these pages, she can't really undo the fact that Viper has met someone and fallen in love with them. 

How could you leave Wednesday to remember everything alone?

Wednesday hears the door open, but she doesn't turn around. 

"Wednesday?" Enid's voice is soft and unsure, full of concern. 

Wednesday doesn't answer. 

Enid steps further into the room, shutting the door behind her as she looks around. The room is a mess with so many broken items on the floor, but her side remains untouched, nearly down to the tape they removed ages ago. 

Enid is careful as she makes her way to Wednesday, the girl's shoulder tense with obvious rage. But even so, Enid knows her roommate would never hurt her. So, she places a hand on her roommate's shoulder when she's next to Wednesday. 

"Wednesday—"

Wednesday is quick to whip around and look at Enid with violently accusing eyes. "This is your fault," Wednesday spits out. "I wouldn't be feeling this—this loneliness if you haven't been spurring lies to me about love." The tone is filled with disgust at the last word.

Wednesday has never expressed any ounce of emotion that would allow her to scream at someone, but she wants to scream at Enid and can't. Even if she wanted to, her throat feels so raw with something Wednesday can only detect is the urge to cry. 

But even if Wednesday threatens her body to refrain from crying, the salty water spills from her eyes without permission. The spill and spill, even if Wednesday doesn't make a single sound. 

Enid doesn't care if Wednesday punches, stabs, or even kills her—she pulls Wednesday into a bone-crushing hug. Her roommate resists at first, pushing against Enid, but it's useless against her werewolf strength. Enid holds on, even as Wednesday's pushing turns into desperate clinging. 

Wednesday's tears are hot, and Enid knows logically tears are always hot, but she finds herself surprised they are. It's just another sign her roommate is all too human too. 

"It's okay, Wednesday, I swear," Enid whispers, rubbing Wednesday's back in soothing circles, even caressing her messy braids. 

There's no heaving or loud sobbing, as that would be too much for the somber girl. Even so, Enid can feel the tears soak her neck and dampen her shoulder. 

"It's not," Wednesday's voice is so raw, as if the girl had been violently sobbing. She clutches at Enid's back, her eyes blankly staring at the mess she's made of her room. Everything is out of place or broken. 

It shouldn't be Enid here, but the person Wednesday wants will never show up.

"I don't have anyone anymore."

[thescarletnargacuga]

So could you write a poly fic between Caine Jax and Pomni?

Maybe one where Jax and Pomni keep making Caine flustered (in their own ways) during adventures, so Caine decides he is going to be the one to fluster them for once during a private adventure between the three of them.

They all are in a consenting and loving poly relationship (just felt the need to say that with all the other crazy anons going around 😂)

A/N: always good to clarify! And thank you for letting me know that it's a throuple poly ship, because polys can work in a lot of different ways

MY TURN

A FUNNYBUNNYSHOW ONESHOT

WARNING: suggestive, power dynamic

~~~

"That was another great adventure, Ringmaster." Pomni flirtatiously emphasized Caine's title after everyone had received an award for participating in today's adventure.

Caine smiled, a light blush displayed around the sides of his face. "Aw, shucks, Pomni. Thank-woah!"

"We had a lot of fun sneaking off to be alone." Jax pulled Caine down by his foot until he was taller than the floating AI. "Too bad you weren't there to join us." He arched a brow suggestively.

Caine flustered, gripping his cane with both hands and holding it in front of him like he was trying to hide behind it. "Oh! Um, you know I can't. Eheh, The- the adventures are....are just for..." He couldn't focus on what he was saying. Jax and Pomni were closing in on him. He felt cornered, despite that he could teleport away at any time.

"What's the matter, Caine? Humans too hot for you to handle?" Jax chuckled, looming over Caine.

"I think we blue screened him." Pomni smirked.

"More like red-screened. Look how hard he's blushing." Jax slowly moved his hand up Caine's leg.

"Adorable." Pomni traced a finger down Caine's lower jaw.

"Uh!! I'm not-! Oh dear goodness-" Caine shuddered. "You two are being extraordinarily friendly today. I'm glad the adventure was to your.....liking." He was very much enjoying the touches.

"Like Jax said, we had time to ourselves. It's done wonders for our mood, and we wanted to thank you." Pomni kissed Caine's lower jaw while Jax kissed the side of Caine's upper jaw.

Caine's hat flipped off his head and a mushroom cloud of confetti exploded out of it, raining all over the three of them. He hovered low to the ground, eyes blue with white text scrolling across. His hat slowly wandered away from him.

Pomni laughed. "You were right, he did error out."

"Told ya." Jax and Pomni bumped fists. "We should totally leave him like this."

"That's so mean...let's do it." She and Jax bolted while Caine was still rebooting.

Caine came back upside down, confetti everywhere and his hat flying away from him. His code still felt all kinds of tingly to the point of making him lightheaded. "Gadzooks.....wait-" He looked around and quickly uprighted himself. "Where'd they go?" It slowly dawned on him what they just did. "Those two!! They-! Oooohohoho, so that's how it's going to be."

Caine's hat snapped back into place and he adjusted his suit. "It seems some of my cast members need a reminder of their place at the circus, and why I am the Ringmaster." He teleported away.

~

The next adventure, everyone except Jax and Pomni were sent off. The two trouble makers kept glancing at each other, wondering what revenge plot Caine had in store for their teasing the other day. They knew they were in for something.

"What's today's adventure?" Pomni asked innocently.

"You're about to find out." Caine snapped and a second portal promptly appeared. "After you." He gestures for them to go through.

Jax boldly stepped forward first. He went through the portal, only to find himself in a small restaurant. No NPCs, it was very quiet and quaint. Pomni came through a few seconds later and he gestures to the room. "Well, this doesn't look like much."

Caine came through and the portal vanished. "I would just like a little sit down with you two. When was the last time we were on a simple date?" He snapped his fingers and food appeared on the plates, no servers came.

"Okay, what's the catch?" Jax crossed his arms. Pomni wanted to know too, so she looked at Caine questioningly.

Caine smiled warmly, his hands behind his back. "Why would there need to be a catch? I would just like to enjoy a meal with my favorite humans." His voice was smooth as silk, giving nothing away.

Jax and Pomni looked at each other nervously. Caine's oddly calm demeanor put them on edge, but they sat at the table. Caine sat in the air between them. Jax inspected his foods suspiciously. Pomni didn't touch hers at all. Caine sat quietly, lounging back.

"Seriously. What have you done?" Jax pressed.

"Why so suspicious? Have you done something that deserves retaliation?" Caine asked with a smirk in his voice.

"Cut the crap.I know you're up to something." Jax narrowed his eyes at Caine.

Caine shrugged. "If you say so."

"Caine," Pomni spoke up. "We were just teasing yesterday. You're not mad, are you?"

"No, my dear. I'm not upset." Caine answered genuinely. "Yesterday was fun, if a bit ultimately frustrating, but that's the way the game is played."

Reassured, Jax and Pomni ate what was served. It was a very well prepared three course meal. Surprisingly delicious for digital food. They eased into fun conversation, putting aside their worries.

After dessert was devoured and after dinner drinks were served, Caine smiled at each of his partners. "Tell me....do you remember what Ringmaster means?"

"uh... That you're in charge of the Circus?" Pomni answered with a confused lilt.

"Indeed." Caine sat forward, resting his elbows on the table, his chin on his hands. "But do you think that's...it?"

Jax started to feel fuzzy. He slammed his drink down. "I KNEW IT! WHAT WAS IN THAT FOOD!?"

"Nothing. Calm yourself." Caine didn't even look at Jax and the rabbit immediately felt woozy. "I create everything in this world, down to the last pixel. Therefore, it is mine to command. And when you consume what is mine...I have influence over the code that makes up your very being. If only for a time."

Pomni felt it too. A warmth in her core spreading out and making her hot under the collar. "What are you...doing?" Her breathing became heavy.

"Showing you two exactly who you're messing with." Caine smiled to himself, focusing on the codes inside Pomni and Jax.

Jax tried to get up. "You...little..."

"Sit." Caine said firmly.

Jax immediately fell back into his chair and couldn't find the strength to get up again. He felt tingles up his thighs and chest, making him squirm in his seat. "[%$!#]" He moaned.

Pomni covered her mouth and gripped the table cloth. Her legs quivered as she squeezed them together. Muffled gasps and moans escaped her throat. The pleasure she was feeling was indescribable.

There was a subtle glow to Caine's eyes. "Good...very good..."

Jax gripped the table's edge, throwing his head back. "Nnngh! Caine-... you-" He gasped.

"Use your words, Jax." Caine said, relaxed as ever.

"More..." Jax whined.

"Pomni?" Caine looked at her.

She nodded, nearly crossed eyed.

Caine snapped and both his partners fell apart. They cried out in pleasure and fell out of their seats. Caine willed away the table and watched his partners catch their breath on the floor. "What have we learned?"

"To never say no to dinner." Jax laughed, still panting.

Caine snapped again. Jax and Pomni rose to their knees by Caine's telekinesis. He held them both gently by the chin. "I love both of you very, very much....but do that do me again, and I'll have to remind you of who I am, won't I?"

Jax and Pomni nodded, looking up at Caine with hazey eyes.

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

so among the million other things that was wrong with catra's redemption, i want to highlight the main thing that stuck out to me.

i don't know about y'all but i've had people "apologize" to me like this. saying sorry or admitting their mistakes and then immediately following it up with “i'm worthless” or “everyone hates me” or something in that vein. i get it, people are insecure and they have a lot of self-doubt. but when apologizing to someone about a serious mistake that you made, for hurting them or worse, you do not do this. it's guilt tripping.

apologies are difficult. even if you feel really guilty about what you did, it might be hard to face facts and admit that you did something terrible. even if you absolutely despise yourself, your ego can work up when it comes to apologizing.

catra does admit her faults in the first frame (albeit while still being very vague. “hurt people” is an understatement for everything that she did). but immediately following it up with “no one cares about me :((” just defeats the whole point. like yeah, i wonder why. it's probably not because she abused, verbally harassed and killed people, right?

it doesn't look like she's guilty of what she did, it comes off as her regretting it after she started to face the consequences. she's not upset because she hurt people, she's upset because they left her and now she's alone.

not to mention, this scene where she lashes out at adora for saving her life.

the way she says “you all hate me” just sounds accusatory. not only is she snapping at the person who saved her life and is willing to give her a second chance, but she's also getting angry at adora and the others for hating her. friendly reminder that catra was a war criminal who killed people, abused adora for years, caused the death of glimmer's mother and almost ended space and time out of spite. and here she is, acting as if she doesn't deserve to be hated for all this. (also, adora's response to this is absolute bullshit. “i never hated you” yes, you did. you almost killed catra with no hesitation in s4.)

let's not forget the iconic “i'm working on it” that everyone was swooning over. omg catra says she's working on her anger issues, we love character development! oop— but then she immediately shifts the blame to adora by saying that adora was the one giving her a hard time. mhm. like you didn't give adora a hard time her whole life, catra.

this is almost uncomfortably realistic when compared to real life abusers. if they ever do apologize, this is how they do it. they either make it all about themselves so that you feel guilty for “making them apologize” or they snidely shift the blame to you. if you get mad about it, they could simply say “i said i'm sorry, what more do you want from me?”

regular viewers may see this and think “well, she apologized. that's a good thing”. but if you've ever been acquainted with a person like catra irl, you know that this apology is not sincere. it's just a way to shut their victims up and indirectly manipulate them. you think they're being genuine but you also feel like it's your fault partially, because of how they shift the blame to you or pity themselves until you feel bad for them.

[pandorasword]

Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.

CHAERI'S MASTERLIST

Hiii 💌 sorry it took so mad long! I had busy weeks and even lack of inspirations. Hope that you still enjoy it and thank you so much for the request!

The night market

❒ words: 2.5k+

❒ summary: In which Chaeri and Jungkook sneak out of the dorms during the trainee period

❒ genre: Fluff; Slice of life

❒ warnings: mentions of poker

April 2013

Chaeri had been in a sour mood all day. 

She had sulked from the time she woke up for breakfast, to the hours spent practicing choreography for their debut concept, and even when she came back to the dorms. 

That's why Namjoon was surprised when he leaned in to kiss her temple goodbye and noticed her smirk instead of a scowl.

The bad temper seemed to have slipped away from her, which would usually make him suspicious that she was up to something; a troublemaker without equal.

But when Chaeri met his gaze, her eyes were so gentle and pure, he told himself she likely just grasped the situation and wasn't angry anymore

The day before, the older members of the group received an unexpected invitation from some staff members to join them for a friendly game of poker. Excitement filled the air as they discussed the invitation among themselves, looking forward to a night of camaraderie and friendly competition.

However, as they considered the nature of the game, they collectively decided that it wouldn't be suitable for Jungkook and Chaeri to participate. Poker involves betting and gambling, and they felt it would be more appropriate for the two youngest members, who were still in their mid-teens, to abstain from such activities, who had not been very cooperative with their decision. Jungkook had quickly given up on the idea; Chaeri had given everyone a hard time until just before.

The living room's chandelier flickered and dimmed, reminding Namjoon he needed to get a new bulb soon.

"You know I'm sorry," he said, gazing into her eyes "But it's an evening for..."

"Adults!" Taehyung, ever the bratty he was, came up behind them on his way out of the dorms. 

"Aged or nearly so", Namjoon added with an apologetic smile.

Chaeri rolled her eyes at Taehyung's comment but didn't say anything.

"It's okay, enjoy yourselves"

"We will" Namjoon said, eyeing Chaeri with a look of worry "Chaeri," he spoke in an authoritative yet caring voice, "I know you’re mature, but please remember to take care of yourselves while we're away. Lock all the doors and windows. There are snacks in the kitchen—help yourself but be mindful about how much junk food you eat."

Namjoon's gaze grew more serious. "If anyone comes to the door, don't open it unless you recognize them. Your safety is the most important thing; if anything feels wrong or if you need help, call one of us right away - me or any of the oppas. Don't hesitate to reach out, okay?"

He smiled and patted her on the head. "You'll be fine, Chaeri. Jungkook is here with you, and I trust both of you to look out for each other. Have a good evening, and we'll be back before you know it."

With a nod, Chaeri watched as the older members of BTS filed out of the dorm, leaving her - and Jungkook who was in the other room - alone.

Chaeri was not about to stay in, especially when the others had treated her and Jungkook like kids. If they were old enough to debut in the entertainment industry, they were old enough to play poker. 

Once the sounds of the boys straying in the alleyway had become faint, she made her way to the room, where all of them slept on bunk beds every night.

Jungkook was perched atop one of the beds, his head almost brushing against the ceiling. He had a comic book in his hands and was studying its black-and-white images.

Chaeri watched him for a moment, debating whether to tell him what she was planning. Jungkook always followed what the older members told him to do, perhaps with a little convincing she would be able to persuade him to join her.

She tiptoed up onto the creaky lower mattress to get a better look at Jungkook, who was sprawled across the top bunk. He snapped out of his comic book when he noticed her looking at him "You're bored" he said.

"Utterly and completely bored—can you tell?" She sighed

"Since the hyungs are gone, we have access to the TV. Want to watch a movie?"

"Actually...I had something else in mind"

Jungkook looked at her curiously, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"They left to play poker and did not allow us to go with them. They said we're not allowed to play because we're too young. It's not fair"

""I still don't understand what you're trying to say. What's on your mind?"

"I was thinking...we could sneak out and find our own way to have fun," Chaeri suggested, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Jungkook's eyes widened in surprise at her suggestion. He glanced nervously around the small dorm, as if the others could appear at any second to catch them in the act. "But what if they find out? They told us not to leave the dorms"

Chaeri shrugged, a devilish grin spreading across her face. "Isn't that all the more reason to do it? They treat us like children all the time. We deserve to have some fun on our own"

An eagerness was slowly growing within him and he nodded in agreement."Okay, let's do it. But...where are we going to go?"

"To play poker!"

Excitement pulsed through Chaeri as she and Jungkook slipped out of the dorms and into the cool night air. They walked briskly, eager to find a club or bar where they could play poker.

However, their excitement was short-lived as they quickly discovered that every club they tried to enter turned them away, citing their age as the reason. They had no luck at the first club, or the second, or even the third.

As they walked down the dimly lit street, Chaeri's mood started to sour once more. She had been so sure that they would be able to find a place to play poker, but now it seemed like all their efforts were in vain.

"This is stupid," she grumbled, kicking a pebble down the pavement.

Jungkook glanced at Chaeri, seeing her frustration and disappointment. He understood her desire to prove themselves as capable and independent, but it seemed that their age was indeed a barrier they couldn't overcome.

"I know it's frustrating, Chaeri" Jungkook said, his voice sympathetic. "But maybe they were right. Maybe we are too young for this kind of thing."

Chaeri halted in her steps, turning to look at Jungkook with narrowed eyes. "Don't tell me you're giving up too?"

Jungkook shook his head quickly, holding up his hands in surrender. "No, not at all. I just think that we should maybe consider doing something else. Something that won't get us into trouble"

Chaeri let out a huff of frustration, but she knew deep down that he was right. They couldn't keep searching for a club that would let them play poker; they needed to find a different way to pass the time.

"Fine," she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. "What do you suggest, then?"

Jungkook's lips parted in a smile, his eyes twinkling as he spoke. "Let's go to the night market!"

Chaeri tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. "Night market? What kind of place is that?" She asked, intrigued by the unfamiliar term.

Jungkook let out a laugh and replied “It’s a huge marketplace at night! There are vendors selling all sorts of food and drinks, there are carnival-style games and rides, and some shops sell really unique goods. It’s one of my favorite places to go” He said as he hopped onto the nearest subway station platform.

Chaeri followed him curiously as she felt a spark of excitement light up inside her chest. She had grown up all her life in France, so any opportunity to immerse herself into Korean culture was highly welcomed. Jungkook began talking animatedly about all the interesting foods they could try at the night market, and she couldn't help but feel impressed by his knowledge of their native culture.

Deprived by her mother of her native culture and language, she had instead come to learn all about European culture; yet despite being Korean, by her teenage years she understood surprisingly little about her homeland.

As they rode the subway, he pointed out the city sights that caught his eye, ranging from ancient monuments to modern-day skyscrapers. Chaeri listened with rapt attention, feeling a sense of pride swell in her heart at seeing the city through an experienced local’s eyes.

Finally, the subway doors slid open, and they stepped out into the lively atmosphere of the night market. 

Chaeri's senses were immediately overwhelmed by the kaleidoscope of sights and sounds surrounding her. Above, strings of multicolored neon lights formed a mesmerizing constellation, casting an ethereal glow over the bustling crowd below. The air was alive with the infectious beats of K-pop music, their rhythmic melodies intertwining with the joyful laughter and chatter of the visitors.

Chaeri walked beside Jungkook, her eyes darting from one intriguing stall to another. The tantalizing aroma of street food wafted through the air, mingling with the scents of exotic spices and sizzling grills. Her mouth watered at the sight of vendors skillfully flipping skewers of succulent meat and frying golden dumplings.

Although Chaeri couldn't read most of the Korean characters on the signs, she attempted to decipher them, occasionally stumbling over unfamiliar words. She wished she had a better grasp of her mother tongue; speaking for her was easier, though occasionally she stumbled over words or mispronounced them. She felt a little ashamed for not knowing more about her Korean heritage.

Throughout the evening, Chaeri kept tugging at Jungkook's sleeve to ask questions about certain dishes, inscriptions, and trinkets that drew her interest.

"Kook!" she exclaimed, grabbing his arm to halt their steps.

Jungkook turned towards her, following her gaze to a nearby stall adorned with an array of handmade jewelry. The owner, a skilled artisan, meticulously threaded delicate beads of various colors and designs, creating stunning pieces that sparkled under the glow of the market lights. Chaeri's eyes widened with fascination.

"Let's go check it out," he suggested, and Chaeri eagerly followed him to the stand.

As they approached the jewelry stall, Chaeri's eyes widened with wonder as she took in the intricate designs and shimmering pieces showcased. The array of jewelry sparkled under the warm glow of the stall's lights, casting enchanting reflections on Chaeri's face.

Jungkook could not help but think that at that moment, she looked more beautiful than usual and even blushed at his thoughts.

Among the captivating collection, Chaeri's gaze was caught by a small hairpin adorned with a delicate arrangement of tiny pearls and jewels intricately intertwined with strands of glistening gold wire. Mesmerized, she reached out and delicately picked up the hairpin, holding it up to the light to observe its craftsmanship. Every delicate detail seemed to tell a story, a testament to the artisan's skill and the beauty of the materials used.

"It's so beautiful," Chaeri breathed, her voice filled with awe. The combination of pearls, jewels, and gold created a stunning harmony that seemed to dance with the light. "I've never seen anything like it before."

When she lived with her mother in France, beautiful jewelry and accessories were never lacking, but she had never owned something so lovely

Jungkook couldn't help but smile, his heart warmed by Chaeri's enchantment. He knew he wanted to see her happiness bloom even further. "Do you want it?" he asked, his voice laced with a gentle eagerness.

Chaeri's eyes darted back to the hairpin, conflicted by her desire and the presumed cost that accompanied such intricate craftsmanship. She hesitated, her fingertips gently tracing the contours of the design. "I don't know... it's probably too expensive" she admitted

Jungkook, determined to make her dreams come true, reached into his pocket and retrieved a handful of coins and bills. His fingers swiftly counted the money. "I think we have enough" he said confidently, a hint of mischief playing on his lips.

Chaeri's curiosity piqued, and she couldn't help but inquire, "Where did you get all this money from?"

Jungkook's grin widened as he revealed his secret. "I collected it from the swear jar" he confessed, his voice filled with playful pride. 

Chaeri's eyes widened in surprise, remembering the times when their friends would playfully scold each other and contribute money to the jar as a lighthearted way to discourage swearing.

She couldn't help but burst out in laughter at Jungkook's brattiness, feeling proud for him for not following the rules for once. 

Jungkook's smile only grew wider at the sound of her laughter. He gave her a playful nudge with his elbow. "So, do you want it?" he asked again, gesturing to the hairpin. 

She knew it was silly to spend so much money on a hairpin, but she couldn't resist the temptation. "Yes, I want it" she said, her eyes sparkling with joy.

Jungkook slid a stack of coins across the wooden countertop to the stall owner, who bowed his head in gratitude and carefully nestled the hairpin in a small velvet bag. 

As she opened the delicate envelope and revealed the treasure within, Jungkook's eyes never left her. He watched in awe as her face lit up with pure delight, her eyes widening as she beheld the intricate craftsmanship of the hairpin. With a graceful movement, she secured it into her dark, silky hair, effortlessly blending tradition with modern beauty.

Using a small hand mirror, Chaeri admired herself, turning this way and that to catch the light of a nearby lantern. The soft glow illuminated her radiant skin, creating an ethereal aura around her. The hairpin, now nestled amidst her locks, sparkled brilliantly, accentuating her features and enhancing her innate beauty. It was as if the accessory had been tailor-made for her.

Jungkook found himself captivated by her, unable to tear his gaze away. 

In that moment, as their eyes met in the flickering light, time seemed to stand still. The bustling market faded into the background, and for an instant, it was just the two of them.

"Chaeri-ya, that hairpin you're wearing is beautiful. When did you get it?" 

Jin's compliment caught Chaeri off guard, causing her to falter in her movements. She momentarily forgot the lie she had prepared. "Um, I got it a while ago," she replied, her voice betraying a hint of nervousness.

Jin raised an eyebrow, a look of curiosity on his face. "Really? I don't remember seeing it before."

"I don't wear it often. Why are you so interested? It's just a hairpin. Do you want one too oppa?" she teased, returning to look in the mirror in front of her as she rehearsed for the umpteenth time the most difficult movements of the debut choreography.

"I was asking out of curiosity - You know.. the money from the swear jar was gone this morning"

Chaeri had to suppress a giggle, looking only for a moment into the eyes of the older member "Who knows, try asking Taehyung. I heard him say he wanted to borrow it." She had set out to make her best friend pay for the way he enjoyed the fact that he could play poker and she could not

"Aish, that little brat.. TAEHYUNG-AH!"

taglist: @alixnsuperstxr | @bts-dream | @enchantingbrowneyedgirl | @ycuvi

[genderisareligion]

They are now trans-ing black Civil Rights Activist Pauli Murray

https://blog.n3vlynnn.com/p/how-the-trans-movement-is-erasing#%C2%A7who-is-pauli-murray

I had already reblogged this but you just reminded me to go back and read it.

What's bothering me is the fact that a lot of this "decision" to "trans" Pauli is apparently being done using her own words, from autobiographies and such, unlike the likes of Marsha Johnson who didn't write as a career and thus has less lived proof available for us to post humorously analyze.

Like this in her own words really stands out to me:

In Murray’s “summary of symptoms of upset” she included lists of questions she had been seeking answers for, and was hoping to find relief within the medical sphere: “Do I have a ‘male’ attitude towards life, or is there such a thing?” “Why the very nervous excitable condition all my life and the very natural falling in love with the female sex? Terrific breakdowns after each love affair that has become unsuccessful?” “Why do my emotional attractions flow consistently toward members of my own sex, without excluding friendliness on my part of members of the male sex?” “Why cannot I accept the homosexual method of sex expression, but insist on the normal first?” “Why are normal women whose experiences have been satisfactory with the male sex, find themselves emotionally attracted to me, and often admit that they wish they could find my qualities in the male.” “What is the physical basis for my tendency toward ‘boyishness’ in structure and appearance?" “Do I have tumors which are causing my emotional disturbances? Would the removal of these tumors return me to normal female reactions.” “By what means, other than an exploratory operation, can it be determined whether or not I have hidden testicles? ….[Could] it be possible that I have one normally functioning ovary, and one male organ, producing a physical and therefore emotional conflict?”

TRAs could never ask so many hard hitting questions and actually want the answers.

The end of the first question alone - "or is there such a thing?”- tells me that this woman was more akin to the modern equivalent of Gender Critical than she was "transgender." She went into questioning her sexuality with an open mind and already willing to accept that she could be wrong, which TRAs who shut down any criticism as "fascism" are currently incapable of.

Also notice that she refers to women as members of her own sex.

Anyway I'm so sick of nonblack liberals Noble Savaging us in particular to self flagellate about how "diverse" their praxis is. They're so clumsy with it they just end up doing more damage

Also also:

I find it interesting that the testosterone pills which Pauli was so fervently pursuing, were openly and unapologetically intended to be used as conversion therapy on gay, effeminate males. I also do not think it’s a coincidence that Pauli struggled with her own homosexuality, and saw this pill as an antidote to her same-sex attractions. What’s more, modern-day hormone therapy has been shown to have the same effect on its users, as far as changing their sexual orientation. It continues to baffle me that cross-sex hormones for ‘gender-affirmation’ are still viewed as progressive. I think we can all glimpse into the history of experimental hormone usage as a means to change one’s “gender expression” and examine the roots of where it comes from.  Given what we know about the factors that prompted Murray to seek testosterone, is this really something that we should celebrate and glorify? 

[ashens-atelier]

Poetry

There was a time when Yosano hated poetry.

No, that's not right; “hate” is too strong of a word – and far from the truth. It would be more accurate to say that the very mention of poetry evoked an unsettling feeling in her chest.

“It... it reminds me of him,” she had once told Ranpo, back when her arm was still pierced with various drips, and when her head was still full of various nightmares. “He... he used to love poetry. He would always... read anthologies whenever he... he got the chance.”

Talking about him was hard, back then. Having to remember him was hard, too.

“You're talking about the soldier who gave you this, right?”

Ranpo had gently flicked the butterfly-shaped hairpin resting in her frail, bony hands. Yosano had nodded faintly.

“I... I can't even remember his name,” she had confessed, and by voicing those words which frightened her, she had realized it was probably the reason why she didn't want to read poetry, or even hear about it.

It reminded her that she couldn't remember how the voice which had uttered the words that broke her sounded. It reminded her that she couldn't remember what the face hanged at the end of a rope in her nightmares looked like. If it weren't for the butterfly hairpin resting in her hands, she would have doubted the guy haunting her memories had ever existed at all.

It frightened her. Her memories were like shadows dancing in a dense fog, close enough for her to feel their presence, but so elusive they always escaped her reach.

However, every once in a while, a flash would enlighten the fog, and scraps of her lost memories would finally graze her tormented mind.

“...I-I... I think I used to call him 'Shun', though.”

Ranpo hadn't replied.

They never talked about poetry ever since.

*~*~*

Years later, after overcoming her trauma and growing up as a healthy, strong woman, Yosano took medical classes in order to get a diploma. Not that she cared about the value of that stupid scrap of paper: what she aiming for was the knowledge and qualifications that would make her able to help the agency and the people around her, all without having to rely on her skill alone.

Within her first year at school, she met Hiratsuka Raichô, one of the very few girls in her class. Despite Raichô's aloof personality, combined with her natural difficulty in speaking fluently, the two of them quickly became friends. They would often spend their free time together, either at the library or the nearby café. And it wasn't just because Raichô was a brillant student – the best of their class – and thus greatly helped Yosano with her studies. Yosano also genuinely enjoyed her company, and saw every moment spent together as a perfect occasion to improve her communication with Raichô, especially by learning the sign language with her. Raichô didn't seem to fully comprehend this friendly behavior, but never complained about it, either. Because she was rather unexpressive, it was hard to tell what she thought. But if anything, it was for sure that she appreciated Yosano just as much, if not more.

One day, however, when Yosano found her friend at the library like always, she was met with a rather rare sight: before the dark-haired girl wasn't a school textbook or one of her notebooks, but a thin pile of draft paper, and an inkpot.

“What are you doing?” Yosano couldn't help but ask, prompted by curiosity – and also a strange hunch.

Despite having noticed her arriving by her side, Raichô started as if roused from whatever she was doing. Noticing the way she frowned and darted her eyes around her nervously, Yosano quickly waved her hand in an apologetic gesture.

“Ah, sorry... I didn't mean to be nosy. It's just... rare to see you with something else than a book in your hands.”

Raichô tilted her head to the side, like she would always do when she failed to comprehend the hidden sense behind people's words. She was smart, yet had a candid side that Yosano couldn't help but be fond of.

“Haha, don't look at me like that! I'm just teasing you,” she chuckled softly.

“... Poetry.”

Yosano froze. She knew that, when she wasn't speaking in signs, Raichô usually uttered the main word of her thought before constructing a coherent sentence around it. But the word she pronounced, "poetry"; it plunged her mind into a brief, yet dreadful state of terror – so much that she barely registered the sentence that followed.

“I like... writing poetry... from time to time...” Raichô slowly uttered. Then, noticing Yosano's expression, she hesitantly called out to her: “... Akiko?”

Roused from the dark clouds of panic threatening to fog her mind, Yosano shivered.

“Ah... s-sorry. That's, uh, th-that's great! Haha...”

Raichô tilted her head again, this time with a concerned frown on her face.

“You look pale. Did I say something that upset you?” she signed.

Yosano pursed her lips. It was always when Raichô wasn't voicing out her thoughts that she revealed how sharp-witted and straight-to-the-point she was. Not that Yosano had been very good at concealing her uneasiness this time, though.

“It's... nothing,” she lied, while perfectly aware she could not fool her friend. Especially not when her voice was wavering and her hands shaking as if she had seen a ghost.

A ghost. Like the one haunting her mind. Like the one she felt standing behind her, silent but attentive.

Just like he used to be when he was alive.

“...”

“You don't like poetry?” Raichô signed again.

Before waiting for an answer, she proceeded to put away the draft papers in her bag. Yosano quickly waved her hands and shook her head.

“No, no!! It-it's not... Hold on, even if I did, why are you putting your stuff away?”

“… Bother...?”

“No, that's not bothering me. And even if it did, you don't have to stop what you were doing for me... Especially if you like it.”

It was always easier for Yosano to speak when if she put others' emotions first. Hers were trickier to phrase... at least for her.

Raichô frowned again, but obediently stood still.

“Look, I'm sorry if I disturbed you,” Yosano exclaimed, her liveliness a bit too forced. “Y-You can keep going, don't mind me!”

Since her friend only stared at her silently, Yosano felt her embarrassment turning to irritation.

“H-hey, you know what? How about I take a look at it? Just a peek, alright? You’ll see I don’t actually hate poetry. And I'm sure you're good at that stuff, anyway. You're good at almost everything!”

Oh boy, what am I even saying? This was so typical of her. Blurting out things without thinking and regretting it the second after. Ranpo often teased her about it, and as much as it irked her, she never found the way to cure that embarrassing weakness.

Raichô pensively played with a strand of her long black hair.

“Are... you... sure...?” she asked.

No, I'm not. But now that I've said that, I can't just back down... Refraining from phrasing that aloud, Yosano sat next to her friend, and shrugged in a gesture which she hoped looked casual.

“Why, of course. Do you mind?”

Raichô tilted her head once more. Her expression was as unreadable as ever, but Yosano still spotted a hint of confusion in those dark blue eyes. Eventually, she shrugged as well, and gave her the draft.

What happened after that was both the best and worst feeling experience Yosano ever went through since she got out of the hospital. Raichô's talent for poetry was unquestionable: the lines were well-crafted, the rhymes harmonious, and the content poignant. Yosano was far from being a poetry connoisseur, but something in the way the text was written stirred her like nothing had stirred her before.

“She's got the way with words, don't you think?”

Yosano shivered in the summer heat. She knew no one had spoken in the thick silence prevailing the library. And yet, she did hear a voice as clearly as if someone had been standing behind her.

“… Akiko?”

Yosano's entire body was trembling. A devouring urge to turn around and look behind her gnawed at her chest, chewed at her heart. Nevertheless, she didn't budge.

She didn't want to look. Whether what she would see was thin air or a ghostly vision, she didn't want to see it.

“… I… It's…”

Yosano tried to speak, but emotion put a choker on her throat. She felt like if she tried to force it open, something would break inside of her, and leave way for tears to flow from her burning eyes.

The feeling of something poking at her arm stirred her from her passive state of mind. Raichô had slid a paper towards her; and now that she had her attention, she pointed her finger at it.

Something was written:

You didn't have to go so far.

“…”

Yosano exhaled slowly, and pinched the bridge of her nose – a gesture that didn't completely help push back the tears, but still had the merit of helping her regain some composure, if only a bit.

“… Sorry. Even if it's beautifully written, I shouldn't be reacting like that over some text, right...?”

She tried to laugh, but the heart clearly wasn't at it.

“... But really, it’s beautiful. You got talent, like I suspected.”

Her voice died down, and silence lasted between them. Only the faint sound of crumpled paper troubled it, as Yosano’s trembling hands wrinkled the paper in her hands.

“… I bet he would have loved this poem you wrote, too…”

It was only when a paper poked her arm again that Yosano realized she had said that aloud - albeit in a breath. Raichô’s silent message read:

Are you thinking about someone?

Yosano took another deep breath, and let go of the paper. Crossing her fingers together, she nodded.

“Yes… Poetry… reminds of someone I… I used to know. Someone who’s no longer there…”

Raicho's eyes widened ever-so-slightly, as the subtle shadow of surprise veiled them.

“Loved…?” she inquired vocally.

“Huh? Ah, um…”

The nature of the full question was ambiguous, yet Yosano could guess what it was. Suddenly, her heart felt like it had turn into lead, and sunk deep into her chest. A dreadful cold seized her – the same cold that had invaded both her body and mind after his death.

“… Yes. I cared about him a lot.”

Her mouth felt doughy; the smell of blood progressively invaded her nose down to her palate as haunting memories flashed before her eyes.

“… Akiko?”

“Sorry. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Yosano’s knuckles had turned white. She kept her head low, unable to look at anything but them.

Then, something slowly appeared in her field of vision. It was a book, with a folded note resting on the cover. Yosano confusedly glanced at the book, then at Raichô, then at the book again. When she pushed the note aside to look at the cover, emotion squeezed her throat again.

It was a poem anthology.

“The note…” Raichô’s deep, melodious voice guided Yosano’s eyes to the folded paper, like a wave gently pushed a bottle on the shore. “… Read... the note.”

After another hesitant glance to her friend, she did as instructed.

The note was written in the same elegant writing, with curves so well-traced it gave a certain charm to the words. Although, it was less the form than the content that hit directly at Yosano’s core.

The living should not disregard what the deceased loved.

Because what they loved is what made them who we loved

The living shall cherish what was dear to the deceased

Because as long as it makes us think of them

They will keep on living inside our hearts

Forever

Yosano had her gaze glued to the paper. She read the words again, and again, and again; until they became blurry.

A teardrop fell on the desk. Its flat thud abruptly broke the spell imprisoning Yosano’s mind.

“… Raichô…? You…”

Her friend tilted her head, her expression still undecipherable.

“… Keep… You can keep… the book…” A pause. “… Want… if you want.”

In a heartbeat, it became clear. The fog shrouding Yosano’s memories was still as dense as ever… Yet it felt like she was looking at it with brand new eyes. Suddenly, it didn’t appear as scary as before.

It takes more than a voice or a face to make a person. Sometimes, the little things that mattered are enough to let a memory live on.

Yosano wasn’t forgetting ‘Shun’. She would not forget about him as long as she kept on holding onto the few memories of him she could gather.

And though it didn’t allay the pain born from the memory of his death… It still took one of her many burdens off her chest. It wasn’t much, but deep within her heart, she felt that it mattered nonetheless.

“Raichô… Thank you.”

Raichô merely nodded silently, like she always did. Behind her, Yosano noticed something – like a blurry silhouette.

A silhouette whose eyes were still hidden behind horrendous scars forming the word “just”… But who was now gently smiling at her.

Just like he used to do when he was alive…

*~*~*

The following evening, Ranpo came back at a rather late hour from the police department. After yet another successful case solved, he wanted to report directly to the President, get his well-deserved praiseful words and congratulations, then go back home get some no less well-deserved good sleep.

When he entered the Agency’s office, his weary face enlightened upon spotting Yosano’s familiar face. But before he could salute her, he came to a stop.

Ranpo didn’t have his glasses on; although, he didn’t need them to put the pieces together.

The book Yosano was engrossed into – a poem anthology. The book’s overall aspect – slightly worn out, with yellowing pages. The atmosphere surrounding his friend.

Heavy like when he used to go see her at the hospital after inviting her to the Agency.

Yet alleviated by the timid smile easing her wistful expression.

Certain that she hadn’t noticed him arriving, Ranpo tiptoed to the corridor leading to the President’s room.

He was smiling as well.

[jeonride]

... 💭 KALA'S MOOTS ! *.✧

just a soft agenda for saying how i'm grateful with all of you. you guys make me feel less alone in this platform and i'm so happy for that. reminder : you can always talk to me if you feel like the world is against you, if you feel like you aren't okay. because i wanna laugh and cry with you :(

@sunnylovespickles - #... sunny ☀️

i was so thankful when i met you, sunny you were my first moot back then 😭 you're so kind and omg the angel's trumpets fic that dedicated to me??? i've read it for the third time like- OMG I LOVE IT SO MUCH !! I'LL TREASURE IT FOREVER !! will always be rooting for you, sunny <3 you're amazing !

@novalpha - #... nova 🪐

nova is a shy person and i actually kinda like that because you're cute when you can't take my compliments shsjsjs your fic recs helped me a lot to find some good writings to be read !!

@yunjinified - #... buttercup 🦋

buttercup you are saur sweet and expressive 😭 i'm happy whenever i get your ask through the inbox and HEY! YOU REALLY GOT A LOT OF SVT MEMES

@beefboyandbabygirl - #... beefboy 🍖

you are sickk your writingss are wholesome ! along with babygirl too of course <3 and your theme? reminds me of good days when i used to watch my little pony shshs

@shuadotcom - #... cherry 🍒

cherry! you are a very understanding person, your heart is golden, you are always welcome with everybody and i love to read your fics, they bring comfort to me ! &lt;3

@min-gis - #... snow ❄️

snow! YOU DON'T KNOW HOW I ALWAYS GET LOST IN YOUR WRITINGS LIKE WHAT HOW CAN SOMEONE WRITE THAT BEAUTIFUL???? the way you write your fics feel like i'm reading poetries, i love all of them ! especially the mingi fic counting stars and then i've never felt alone with you drabble (i was crying when i read that *no clickbait*) i read them for the fifth time now 😭 i can feel your love towards mingi OM GOSH

@shuadrive - #... dani 🌼

it's funny how i just realized that we're moots lmao it's always to ramble abt about mingyu + wonwoo + taylor swift with you. maybe we can do spotify session someday? listening to taylor albums sjsjsj

@wonwoonlight - #...khione 🌙

my talented moot omg khione ! you don't know how your fics made my day 😭 they feel like a warm and fuzzy sweater ! i'd love to get closer to you &lt;3

@mimgi - #...lu 🍬

omgosh i remember i found your acc because of your mingi drabbles ! love them so so so much, lovely !

@jaysbiceps - #... amy🌷

wah you were so sweet back then by sending me an ask sjsjsh and thank you for being by my side and worrying about me :((

@chokchokk - #... choy 🏔️

I HAVE NO WORDS FOR YOU BESIDE A TON OF COMPLIMENTS CHOY YOUR WRITING SKILL IS ON ANOTHER LEVEL LIKE YOU'RE MY FAVORITE ATEEZ FIC AUTHOR ON THIS PLATFORM !! the mingi fic, worked hard harder for you? I'VE READ IT FOR THE SIXTH TIME NOW I CAN'T GET OVER HUBBY MINGI 😭 you're very sociable, easy going, what a jester and magician to me, and it's always fun to talk to you, sharing about different cultures, and experiences. i adore you so much, choy mi amor. i never get tired for saying your writings feel like first love 🥺

@dairyminki - #... elle🍦

your vibe is really, really, soft. i don't know why but i find it that way. like a vanilla ice cream. i remember your old header it was seonghwa with purple color scheme omg i'd love to get closer to you !

@smolyeo - #... yeo 🍓

MY STRAWBERRY YEO MY HYPE GIRL!! you're such a lovable creature how can't i'm not attracted to you :(((

@desirehorizon - #... dee 🔱

when i first saw your blog, i was like 'ohh, interesting' because you arrange your layout and your masterlist neatly. you feel like that friend who has power to protect the whole circle omg

@nishloves - #... nish ✨

nish ! your bubbly vibe always makes me smile you're so friendly and it's nice to be your moot !

@x03yd0cx - #... xoey 🐼

xoey, i know you from the blockbuster fic of wooyo and i enjoyed ittt ! let's get closer &lt;3

@babesindestroyland - #... ty 💅🏻

i'm new for being your moot but i know you have such a beautiful heart, supportive, and thoughtful ! i'd love to get closer to you !

@gummygowon - #... mai 🧃

MAI ! thank you for sending me message through inbox to begin with 🤠 i was flattering when you said my theme is sickkkk you have that girlcrush energy omg

@jaehunnyy - #... chip 🫧

chip sunshine! your cute pics and your expressive replies to my messages always made my day thank you for reaching out for me :(( i'm happy to be your moot

@cherryonigiri - #... alice 🌌

i know your blog because i searched for divider tutorial and then found it on your acc ! i will never forget it cause it helped me a lot sjsjsj

@yourfatherlucifer - #... felix⚡

hey lixie ! i hope you won't hate your writings anymore after this :( have confident in yourself you're enough !

@haosweater - #... mei 🧸

mei ! your vibe AGHHHH like that cottage core girl with comfort fr (i don't know why esp your usn is 'sweater'. can i be your heather? JSJSHHS)

@senpai-of-doom - #... doom 🚀

thank you for reaching out for me you seem sociable ! let's get closer &lt;3

@rubywonu - #... nia 💫

i'm your new moot so i haven't know you well but omgosh i know you from redamancy, you seem kind and loving, you too feel free to hit me up, nia !

@icyminghao - #... noelle 🥞

i'm new to be your moot and i was so happy when i saw you followed me back because GOSHH i've been reading to your fics and it's unbelievable we're being moots now ! your fics bring comfort to me (like honey pancakes for breakfast!), thank you for keep writing 🥺

@mingycr - #... ana 🪽

i don't know you have something within you, i sense it. you seem warm-hearted 🌷

@hanverse - #... kaira 🌸

kaira ! we're just being moots like- yesterday?? but oh, you seem like that girl with doll heart, your theme is saur cute too !

[lovecanbesostrange]

*nasal voice* as an artist: movie ask 3! also 5 and 11 (bc I, too, love me some "problematic" tropes sometimes)

3. Post a screenshot and ramble on about why this one frame visually appeals to you (colors, blocking, expression, set decoration whatever).

omg this question is so hard. It could be random, like pick the last movie, take a screen, write. But I ended up clicking through dozens of films, watching a lot of fav moments. From Firth & Moore on the carpet in A Single Man, to Ken Watanabe standing in front of Godzilla in G:KotM, then the whole ending to Midsommar, had a quick cry about seeing the hanging shoes in Jojo Rabbit, looked at the way Amy returns in Gone Girl, that shot through the bars in Hustlers, or all the gorgeous bizarre shots that make up Annihilation, also I went through the whole of Fox' X-Men franchise, because I have so many moments I cherish (it is the best superhero franchise as a whole, even though the parts alone are mostly just mediocre, the sum of it is amazing)... then I was downstairs for a snack and a tv spot reminded me that Cruella exists, so I cave with this one:

You hear the name Cruella and what do you think about? Dalmatians and a black&white theme. With the fur she wants and the hair she has. And then this movie gives us a theme party. And it is very, very important that everything is strictly black and white only. It's a whole thing. Except Cruella has a plan and she's gonna be a distraction. She is disruption. She will make everybody look. With the color red. And I am here for it!

This moment was in all the trailers, you know it's coming. Yet while watching I'm always excited nearing this fabulous entrance. And it's not the effect of how she gets rid of her white coat with the flame, it's the absolute contrast to everything around her. Perfectly framed in... a door frame. An entrance for the ages. Introducing herself. Introducing the alter ego. The different persona. I am so here for that.

The whole film is about style. The visuals are gorgeous, the music filling the rest of the mood. This is what movies are for! Colored pictures in motion with sound - to invoke feelings. And here you know something big is happening. There is a stage set. It's all planned. In-story for the characters and for the viewers watching the screen.

There is nothing new or super groundbreaking. It's all about using well known tools in an effective way. And it tells us something about the character. Ella is used to being in the background, while dreaming about fashion she tries hard to not stand out (that would interfere with her little criminal endeavours and get unwanted attention for sure). But this is the birth of Cruella on the scene. Bold. Loud. Drawing all eyes on her. (And also startling people, because being a bit scary is fine.)

*chef's kiss* Sometimes a little bit of flair is all I need. Not even attached to any emotional outburst. Can we just applaud films for using the full spectrum of the medium for its own sake every once in a while, just to entertain?!

5. A character who deserves their own spin-off.

The very obvious, tumblr-friendly answer: Riley Johnson (Aubrey Plaza) from Happiest Season. Show me her life, show me she's good at her work and give me some fun disaster dates she goes on, trying to find somebody a bit more longterm. Witty, forgiving, a bit guarded and then opening up in a non tragic way. Hmm, sadly that's it. I don't even have fancasts for a row dates or anything. Just give me romcom fun with a dash of that specific Plaza-charme. (Not against reuniting her with Rachel Keller from Legion.)

11. A trope or setting you know is mishandled a lot and carries a huge problematic/toxic burden, yet you do enjoy it?

I am highly aware how terrible representation and portrayal of anything mental health/illness related films (and tv) overall are. Especially how most people are not knife wielding dangers to the general public. I am very much about treating people with dignity and respect, not judging but helping. I have seen/experienced things, I know reality.

However horror (next to sci-fi) is my fav genre. And you give me a movie that starts with "in a mental asylum", I'm in. Be it A Nightmare on Elm Street 3 with teens thrown in a hospital (despite telling the truth and not self-harming) or Grave Encounters with supernatural shenanigans in a former bad place. I love M. Night Shyamalan's Split, because James McAvoy plays all those personalities so well. Nobody ever should think about that film when talking about actual disassociative identity disorder!

We need to have that conversation about demonizing mental illness. But yes, here I sit being audience for horror films using it as a gimmick (always glad when it leans into supernatural territory).

I am also absolutely the audience for films like Girl, Interrupted or One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Both dvds are on the shelf. Great films. But sometimes I just want John Carpenter's The Ward or plain old Psycho. A film like The Babadook working with metaphors for deep dark soul dives isn't exactly an easy watch, so I'll take some "criminally insane" slashers as well.

[lilliesforya]

Being tired all the time

Mid to late October

Yesterday, I went to my middle school in the afternoon because of a schedule change, usually I'm there all day. The teacher that I work with told me about the conferences going on for the third years. The school system here is different from the states in that kids work really hard to get into good high schools as opposed to us working hard in high school to get into good colleges. The kids have to meet with the teachers and their parents and talk about what school they want to go to, and the exams they will have to take. The third years are US ninth graders. Their high school is only 3 years. I felt unqualified to choose my university at 18, so I can't imagine having to choose a high school at 14/15 especially because the high school chosen will affect the colleges one can get into. The teacher has to go to all of these meetings back to back and they happen like once a month ish from now until they apply (I'm not sure of the whole timeline). He was like “this is why teachers are always dead during the fall”. And I'd agree. I have never seen that teacher not extremely busy. 

I try to remind myself that this is supposed to be fun. Despite being here to work, my work isnt particularly difficult and I ought to be having fun. More fun? I'm not sure. Considering I have set hours of about 8-4 during the week, it is difficult for me to do much. Though, today is Monday and I am going grocery shopping after work and I'm excited to pick out desserts. Last time I got these waffle pastry cookie things? They're waffles but encrusted in sugar but they're not overly sweet. I love them. I'll also be getting tricolor dango. Anyway, I want to do more stuff over the weekend. But I'm so tired on the weekends that I often don't do that much. It can be difficult to plan things because some information is not accessible to me (websites will be not updated, hard to understand, all in Japanese, etc). Or the events hosted by the Chiba AJET (chiba prefecture jet association) group are so far from me it becomes an all day event and then some. 

Even trying to convince myself to do solo traveling is difficult because I don't think that's my preferred method of traveling. Despite being in a beautiful, new place I am the same person and I have to relax my expectations of how I should be spending my time. Just yesterday, I went to a cafe in the middle of nowhere with a lady from the English circle club in my town. She is very sweet and has lived in California on and off for years, so she speaks great English. The cafe was someone's house but also not? It had a homey feeling, eccentric decorations, and the people there all knew each other. There were also 2 cats that were so cute and friendly. I hadn't seen animals in a while so this was big for me. I got curry rice for 600 yen and it had so many vegetables and beans in it and my friend told me everything was fresh from their farm or garden. I think the cafe was open late for a small event because of the full moon yesterday. My point is that I didn't know I would be going to this place until the morning of when she invited me. I hate doing things spontaneously because it makes my brain anxious and nonfunctional. I agreed despite not wanting to go in the moment because I knew it would be a fun experience regardless. I wonder if pushing myself to do things alone would have the same effect. In the same vein, I could also just let myself enjoy my solitary hobbies in peace. 

Things I've been enjoying:

Waffle cookies 

Genshin Impacts most recent story quests 

Talking to friends and loved ones back home 

Listening to music in my car 

Trying new sweets from the conbini or supermarket 

Making my students laugh/ giggle/ smile 

When the kids say hello or good morning to me at school or wave to me when they see me in the teachers office 

Trigun anime 

The sunsets lately 

The days where I make moms chicken nuggets for dinner 

I bought a winter coat for like only 30 usd and it resembles a coat one of my favorite anime characters wears

[rabidcriterion]

okay so not as rabid as usualll but im doing a little writeup of a situation i am in because i am not quite sure what is. Goaing Oan

soooo like ages ago i was added to this discord server, it belonged to a friend i met at a convention and their group of friends was in there. it was a while ago, im not sure how long but at this point it would've been over a year ago. last year was. a shitfight because i was so busy with work, and since then I've inly become more busy, so I didn't really go in there very often. i do remember maybe joining an active voice chat a few times, but i dont think i was in there for very long each time, the longest i was in there was probably under thirty minutes? not sure, this was a while ago

anyway, i think at some point i left the server (it was a minecraft server by name, and i don't play that much anymore). i have no idea if i personally made the decision to leave or what. i just don't know.

i was hanging out with a friend last night and they were scrolling through a discord server and i recognised some of my friends in there. i asked them about it and they told me it was the same server. in the moment, i felt like making more of an effort to talk to and befriend this group of people, as i am no longer as stressed as i was with work (but still very busy) and so i asked them if they could send me a link. they said something to the effect of it wasn't their server so they didn't want to hand out links, which is fair but the way they said it struck me as being a bit odd. so, i messaged the person who owned the server and asked if i could be let in (on my friends advice). they messaged me back saying that "a few of the admins and mods were uncomfortable with you in their space" and that they would "double check with them but it isnt looking too good right now"

which leads me to where i am now. i havent been in this server for at least a good six months, but probably much longer. i thought i left, but i was possibly removed? im really unsure about the circumstances to be plainly honest.

i know that if anyone is reading this, i probably sound like your average socially unaware loser who was clearly being an asshole in some way im not disclosing in my post but. because it was a while ago now and ive been so busy, im having trouble remembering my interactions in there - but in my interactions with others i do a lot to ensure that im being polite and friendly with others. i just have no clue what i could have done, either online or in person to make these people so uncomfortable.

this also reminds me of a very unfortunate situation a few years ago where i had a nasty argument with someone who was previously a close friend, and they told all of our mutual friends that i had told them to kill themselves (i hadnt, we'd just had an argument). i had worked very hard to build that connection with those friends, and because they were closer with the other person, they had believed them. i foind i was suddenly uninvited from the group chat, and when i went to go and say my usual hellos to them (because at the time i had no idea about the rumour) they all reacted very strangely and all seemed incredibly uncomfortable, so i left them alone after that. this incident caused me to socially isolate myself for years, rather than pushing everyone to tell me why i was making them uncomfortable. i still havent heard directly from those people today, which would be fine if they showed no interest in talking to me, but at a convention towards the end of last year, they came up to me and asked me where I'd gone, and have been friendly since, but the level of that seems to fluctuate back into them shunning me, for reasons I'm unsure of.

this situation did a lot of damage to me, but i dont want to flip out just because the situation im in now reminds me of the last one. unless they tell me what's wrong (which i dont think they will) I can't really learn anything specific from it, so i guess at this point i just have to try and be more careful in social interactions with others in the future and try not to let it bother me? i just have no clue other than that

[kawaiifoxreviews]

A Review is a Powerful Thing, it Can Change Every Thing:

What in the world?

That's right. This fox reviews just about anything. Books are no exception here at KawaiiFoxReviews.

Hello friends, and welcome back. Today we're looking at a book called Voice by Zachariah Roth. These are my thoughts on the subject and why I think it's worth a read. Without spoiling too much, let's voice our discovery.

The Story: Voice is about this character who is strangely isn't named right away. Their gender isn't even specified until way later in the book. Although these things are still confirmed, I felt it was necessary to refrain myself from revealing that information as I am not sure if that is a potential spoiler or not. For now, we'll just call the main character MC. And since this story is about our mystery MC, it was fitting for the author to make this a first-person type of book.

Anyway, the story is this, the MC struggles to find themselves. Typical slice-of-life drama set in a college called Rose Academy. Is this bad? Not at all. I enjoyed the pacing, myself, but it may not jive well for some. However, for me, it became more and more interesting as it progressed.

With the slice-of-life attitude, the story actually meshed with a murder-mystery vibe as well...and comedy...and well...just a little bit of everything.

This fox likes this in a book/movie. For me, it gets boring when the main focus is strictly drama or continuous try-hard jokes or an all-romance diet. I must congratulate the author for trying and placing me on a roller-coaster of emotions.

Oh? In all this talking about this book as a book, I have yet to summarize a story for you guys. Well, my bad. Here it goes:

So, the MC has grown up with their whole entire life with no friends and no family. On top of that, nobody likes/loves this MC. A sadness I myself can relate to in the past. Being alone isn't fun, but, I have learned that it doesn't have to be that way and I'm doing better now because of that fact.

Sorry, my foxy friends, but I'm not trying to make this about me. My point behind this is that a relatable character is nice to have in a story, and it is a reminder that there are people in the world who suffer from this problem. As a fox-friendly reminder: YOU ARE NOT ALONE!

Anyway, with the MC facing this problem, they are met with this girl, whom they have named Voice. Okay, to be technical, Voice is actually a software in the shape of a human girl. Enter Sci-Fi genre. Told you this book had a little bit of everything.

So, what does this mean for our MC? Well, the two become friends. However, the catch is she is linked to all these murders that are currently happening in the story.

I enjoyed this concept, as it pertains to the technology of today, if not, for the future. With the rise of A.I., our safety may be more likely to be compromised. Think Skynet from the Terminator series. Of course, with the little miss Voice, she seems harmless. But, with a small group of students who seemed hell-bent on destroying her very existence, as well as the other forms of the relevant software...it isn't quite clear right away who to trust.

Before you jump to conclusions, consider this:

Is it Voice that needs to be trusted? I mean she must be, since she has befriended the MC. Well that's one way of looking at it. However, how do you know someone didn't just program a software to be so friendly?

What about those students? They seem to know a lot about all this. Also true. But, that doesn't exactly excuse them from being antagonist. All that knowledge could patiently lead to destruction or even self-destruction.

Either way, if you're into murder mystery, this book has you covered. I for one enjoyed it and implore you to read it when you get the chance. It's 324 pages long and 20 chapters. Roughly ten pages per chapter. A nice decent-sized book. You can find it on Amazon and Barnes & Noble. I'll link you below.

If I had to compare this book to other existing franchises or genres, it seems heavily inspired by things like anime and Resident Evil. Basically, any show or game where people take down an organization. (Maybe that's why I enjoyed Voice as much as I did.)

Now, is this book perfect? No. Sometimes, although rare, I found myself finding little errors here and there. Not sure if they are written wrong or my brain is just having a hard time making sense of it. One point, I had to distinguish two different female characters from each other several times. However, I was able to figure it out as I progressed through the story. Again, that may be my brain not understanding.

But regardless, I understood the plot throughout. I had a few moments where I laughed, I was sad, I've even had a moment where I was like, "Wait, what the hell did I just read?" I like it weird, guys, not going to lie. I think it's safe to say, this book delivered.

With how this book ended, it wouldn't surprise me if it gets a sequel. Now, I'm not exactly basing this off the ending of the current book, but what had me was the build up to the end. There was a lot left unanswered and it's got me so super hyped up! Perhaps, we can share the hype once you pick up a copy for yourself. Wouldn't you agree?

One more thing, for discloser, keep in mind these are college students. Expect profanity. Pretty much all the characters use it, except for Voice. And then there's Neru (Nuh-rue). Oh boy, if you can tolerate Neru, then you should be fine. If I had to describe her in a foxy sense...there's just one way I can think of to say it...she's a female pervert. Let your imagination roll with that. ;)

I say these things because I don't have have a problem with them, personally, but I understand that some people might not take too kindly to such things. But this fox wanted to give you a heads up. I guess the profanity was placed considerably. Not once did I find myself overwhelmed with "F this" and "F that". That's always a blessing here at KawaiiFoxReviews.

Final Verdict: This was a beautiful find, fox friends. The story was very intriguing. The characters were unique and full of diversity. The emotional roller coaster-ride was acceptable and kept a firm grasp of my attention. In my opinion, to pass this book up and not allow yourself the pleasure of reading it, you would truly be missing out!

Thank you so much for sticking around till the end, friends. I hope this review finds you well. Before I go, I just want to thank the author, Zachariah Roth, for making such a fun read. I would also like to thank Barnes & Noble and Amazon for the distribution part. Hope to see you all in the next review. Until next time, stay safe. And stay foxy. ;)

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/voice-zachariah-roth/1136771558?ean=9781646280445

[qwanderer]

And it's Pepper Potts with the scrupulosity crowbar!

The Ultimate Muse Cage Match

So yesterday afternoon I got caught up in that fascinating conversation in the discord server, and I thought there probably wasn't any harm in chatting with some plural systems and learning about their experiences and the language they use for themselves

but then last night and this morning I was having like RAGING anxiety which is very unusual for me so I was trying to figure out why and how to make it stop

And I'm pretty sure I figured it out! So you know how you can't make yourself stop thinking about specific things by just trying not to think about them, you have to fill your brain with other stuff? The problem I was having was because my existing coping mechanism is talking to the muses, and the anxiety inducing thoughts I was having were about the ways in which I talk to the muses, so I was having a hard time figuring out a way of dealing with that because all my go-to good thoughts were just reminding me of the anxiety thoughts

Everyone in the discussion was really friendly and like genuinely curious about the workings of my mind, and trying their best not to impose things on me I didn't want, but here's the thing:

They kept asking what my muses and I thought about using their labels, and there are assumptions that come with those labels, including rules that I was told in Very Strong Terms Must Be Followed For My Health

And so that caused a sort of a feedback loop. The word it made me think of first was scrupulosity, and then I looked it up and I was like "no that's not quite the right word," but then I thought about it some more and I think it's actually a pretty good fit. It became a sort of constant worry about "am I doing the right thing" that wouldn't leave me alone because it was a set of thoughts about the very way that I think and my coping mechanisms for unpleasant brain-states.

It was a perfectly functional coping mechanism and it got compromised by theoretical thought-crimes! I'm kind of upset about this.

But I am figuring out how to sidestep the scrupulosity and bring my mind back to being the "limitless fantasy land with no limits where anything I want to happen can happen" that I know and love.

And now I know what to look out for during similar conversations in the future, and hopefully my set of coping mechanisms will ultimately become more robust.

Among the many muses who woke up to try and help me with this crisis was Pepper Potts; there were a lot of muses railing against the introduction of rules to their unlimited playground, but Pepper was extremely helpful because she was like, "You know what, sometimes rules actually are helpful, but fuck these ones. We definitely can ignore these ones. And also, this experience with scrupulosity might be a useful tool in our writing arsenal."

The scrupulosity became a crowbar and she hefted it in her hand threateningly, as if to suggest that maybe we can pry open a character's psyche with it, and give them interesting problems.

And that got me writing again. Which is always a good sign.