#i dont even remember the exact contents of the hot takes but i do know is that shes smoking cigarettes and blackmailing george <3333333333< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[wheresurboytonighthelookslikeenj]

ooh effie's got some hot takes

she is um. correct because i say so.

[omegawolverine]

Braid Me a Home

summary:

"Braid my fucking hair, Theseus. Braid it.”

It had sounded like a plea falling from Techno’s chapped lips, blood caked under his nails as he sat in front of Tommy on a tree stump, slowly itching at his wrists.

“Wilbur told me to stop you if you ever started doing that-”

“Wilbur isn’t fucking here. Just...braid, Toms. Braid.” 

or

A story about the Sleepy Bois being family, told through braids.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: child neglect, hurt/no comfort, canonical character death, implied/referenced mental health issues (like it’s obvious but there isn’t much detail to it), brief blood mentions (ik this fic sounds kinda angsty as hell but its not? imo its light angst)

a/n: first dream smp fic and im ALREADY projecting? christ. anyways. go easy on me pls this is far from my best work i just havent written a fic in like 5 months (more if you dont count the fucking chat fics) mm also i may have posted this like a week ago on ao3 just to test the waters and its already gotten way more comments and kudos than any fic of mine usually gets this early on so hopefully tumblr enjoys it too :]

—

When Wilbur Soot was born, he came out crying, as most babies do. Covered in vernix and blood, he weighed just barely above the seven-pound mark, gasping out sharp cries that only a parent could truly stand, or worse—love. Though he was the second baby born into the family that day, he was fussed over far more than he would ever be again.

Technoblade, on the other hand, had barely made a sound when he came out, a trail of blood smeared across his forehead, almost as if it was meant to be there. He made small noises that were more akin to confused mumbles, weakly grasping at his father’s hair when he was eventually passed on for the second child to be welcomed into the world.

Only when both boys were held in their father’s grasp did Wilbur quiet down, his soft head leaning into his father’s beard as he stared wide eyed at the boy across from him. Though they looked similar enough, Technoblade’s nose was squished further back into his face, appearing almost snout-like to Philza. Of course Wilbur noted this, wiggling until their father somehow managed to get them pressed right up against each other with minimal damage done. Though Techno never stopped squinting like an annoyed old man at Wilbur, he allowed the other to press a fist against his nose, his eyebrows unfurrowing just the slightest bit at the touch.

From that day on, Philza was the father of two twin boys—a loud boy who cried easily, but always calmed down for his older brother, and a rather monotone one, who’s face seemed to be permanently stuck in a scowl, unless said face was being smushed around by the younger. And things worked like that for a while. Not forever, but...a while.

—

Philza taught Wilbur to braid on a hot Monday afternoon.

It had been a rough day for the boy, though Phil hadn’t a clue why. Maybe he had just woken up on the wrong side of the bed? Or maybe he hadn’t slept enough between bedtime and the time Tommy had started crying again, the youngest boy’s crib being right beside his head and all. Though it might’ve seemed cruel from an outsider’s perspective, Wilbur had been the one to ask for it. Something about Tommy being his little brother and how he needed to teach the boy the ways of the world in the same way Techno had taught him—because apparently that was all Techno’s doing now, not Phil’s.

Regardless, Wilbur had been a bit too snippy for Phil’s liking that day, complaining about every little thing they did until finally, the day was over.

Well, as over as it could be with Techno leaving mid foam sword fight, an annoyed shout of ‘I quit!’ leaving his mouth before he snatched up Tommy’s carrier and brought him inside for god knows what reason.

It had only been around four P.M. by that time—too early for dinner, yet too late for Phil to really demand the boy stay outside and continue to entertain himself with a brother who was clearly not entertained himself.

Details aside, Phil isn’t really sure how they got to braiding. He just knows at some point they did and by the end of their outside time, just before the clock struck six, Wilbur had made two thick, messy braids in his hair. They stuck out awkwardly, looking all too similar to Pippi Longstocking’s iconic hairdo for his comfort, but he’d be damned if he took out the braids his son had so happily rushed inside to show his older brother before demanding to do his hair as well. After all, Wilbur didn’t have long enough hair for braids, but Technoblade sure as hell did. It was only at his shoulder blades back then, brunette curls wrapping around his narrow shoulders and thin arms like thick vines.

Wilbur had always enjoyed brushing it out with his fingers and putting cute, handmade clips or flowers in it at random, decorating the waves for his brother who was more than happy to let the boy do as he pleased. Though he would never admit it, Technoblade liked how it felt when Will played with his hair. He was always careful not to tug too hard, prioritizing the comfort of his other half more than the beauty of his work, as he so often referred to it.

So when Will had presented him with the mess that was his first two braids, he wasn’t hesitant at all to let the boy practice on him. Instead, he walked to the couch with a small smile, removing his glasses gently and getting comfortable before his brother plopped down into the space behind him. Long legs draped over long legs with no warning, thighs pressed together as if they were meant to be like that all along—and they might as well have been, for how often they did this.

Phil had watched them from the doorway in content silence, Tommy sitting behind him in a wooden high chair looking bored, but not making a fuss for once. And as he left that doorway to begin dinner, he listened to their muffled conversation and soft bursts of laughter with a small smile on his lips, for he knew things wouldn’t always be this way. They would have to grow up eventually, and when they did, things would change. Phil could only hope it was for the better.

—

When Tommy turns nine, Wilbur teaches him to braid under circumstances not too different from the ones he had learned under himself.

Well. Not too too different.

Philza and Technoblade had been...busy as of late. In the house for three days, out for a week, in for a week, out for three more, over and over and over again. Wilbur had become more like a father to Tommy in recent months than he should’ve been, his fourteenth birthday fast approaching as their father took Techno out for yet another job, one that Wilbur couldn’t come on because he was too fucking weak to do anything Techno could do, too fucking stupid to learn all the techniques Techno did, lacking all the strength and agility his older sibling possessed, like the useless prick he was-

Right. This is about Tommy.

When Tommy was nine, his hair rested gently against his collarbones in the exact same cut and color as their father wore. If Wilbur was a lesser man, he would’ve hated the kid for it, but it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t see what a selfish git their father truly was yet. All he knew was that their dad was busy a lot and that, for some reason, Techno needed to go with him. Apparently, that was enough for him to keep holding onto the idea that one day, the man would stay longer and maybe, just maybe, show him some of the same care that his older brother did.

If Wilbur was a better man, he would tell Tommy the truth. He would tell him all about the way Philza had called him useless in a fight, forcing him to instead stay home and care for a child while still being one himself. He would mention how Philza had given him no instructions on how to care for a developing child, how he left out key details to parenting on his own as a goddamn thirteen-year-old, yet remembered to tell him things would be better this way because god forbid he does his fucking job as a father for anyone but Technoblade—

Who he missed. He missed Technoblade, his other half, so fucking bad it hurt sometimes—so bad it left him gasping for breath at two A.M., his head pounding in tandem with his uneven heartbeat, lungs burning as his snot and tears soaked into his brother’s cold, cold sheets. And it made him feel fucking pathetic because the truth of the matter was that...Techno had left him behind too. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to hate the older boy, no matter how hard he tried. Couldn’t hate Philza either, if he were to be honest with himself, but it was a lot easier to pretend he did when his father was the one putting them all in this position to begin with.

So, Tommy was nine when he learned how to braid.

Phil had promised him and Techno would be back Tuesday morning.

It was Wednesday afternoon.

Tommy didn’t fucking understand, and as frustrating as it was that the prick decided to take it out on Wilbur, he couldn’t blame him. Who else was he supposed to take this shit out on? Certainly not the man who had yet to return.

Wilbur had started the braid as a way to distract him. It was simple, really—tell him you know something he doesn’t and that he won’t get to know if he doesn’t sit the fuck down and listen.

When he had started tugging the boy’s hair back from his face, his immediate reaction was to jerk away, swatting at the hands that hovered over his shoulders. This only happened once or twice more before he let it happen naturally, his posture stiff as Wilbur ran his fingers through the boy’s hair with practiced ease.

Though it may not have seemed like it, Tommy was significantly more averse to touch than Techno had ever been. The only reason Techno even seemed averse to it was because of his hesitance to initiate, something he and Wilbur had discussed in depth. Rejection was one of the few fears Technoblade truly had and Wilbur held that fact close to his heart, ready to die with it if need be. Tommy, on the other hand? He was very particular about where and when and why someone was touching him, and it had taken Wilbur a long time to get used to that fact. But, he wasn’t about to make his little brother uncomfortable just so he could be happy and, eventually, he learned the ins and outs of how to touch TommyInnit without causing issue.

Pulling a few of the shorter strands towards the front of Tommy’s face loose, Will separated the blonde’s hair into three sections. They were rather small, what with how thin and short his hair was, it just barely being long enough to even have a proper braid in it, but Wilbur knew he could make it work.

“Now, Toms, you gotta listen to me here, because I can’t show you this bit, yeah? Phil and Tech aren’t here, and my hair is too short, so you’ll just have to feel it out for now, but...this is how you braid hair-” Wilbur had said in a soft voice, brushing the pad of his thumb over the boys neck slowly to ease the tension out of his shoulders. The effect was immediate, the boy slouching forward as if he had just noticed he was holding himself so sternly. Smiling softly, Wilbur instructed him on how to weave the strands together, answering questions and pulling lightly at Tommy’s hair so he could feel exactly where everything went. After he was done, Tommy had reached back to feel the bumps in his hair, all his earlier anger seemingly gone as he gave a small smile. And then he tried it himself.

Of course he got a bit of help at first, Wilbur’s larger hands guiding his own with gentle corrections, but after that Tommy worked on it alone, his older brother watching in silence from a patch of grass beside the porch step.

That night, Tommy and Wilbur slept in Techno’s bed, a soft, blue blanket wrapped tightly around them. And if another body woke them up at some point that night, shoving its way into the mess of limbs, their chest pressed right up against the youngest boy’s back, then that was only for them to know.

—

At eleven years old, Tommy takes a pair of scissors to his hair. With flushed cheeks and salty lips, his hands shaking and his eyes foggy, he cuts, cuts, cuts, until he can no longer braid his hair—until he can no longer look like fucking Phil.

Even though Wilbur had once said he hated Tommy’s long hair—hated how similar he and their dad looked—he felt like crying as he ran his fingers through the uneven strands. He didn’t tell his brother this though, instead grabbing his face and planting a wet kiss on his freckled forehead. In a fierce whisper, Wilbur had said, “I’m so fucking proud of you, Tommy. So fucking proud.”

Tommy never forgets the way he felt that day. He doesn’t forget Wilbur’s words either.

—

When Wilbur loses his last life, Technoblade tells Tommy to braid his hair.

It wasn’t a question either, but a demand forced out between gritted teeth, his face red, his nose stuffy and his lashes wet with unshed tears. Still, his words were clear as day.

“Braid my fucking hair, Theseus. Braid it.”

It had sounded like a plea falling from Techno’s chapped lips, blood caked under his nails as he sat in front of Tommy on a tree stump, slowly itching at his wrists.

“Wilbur told me to stop you if you ever started doing that-”

“Wilbur isn’t fucking here. Just...braid, Toms. Braid.”

Tommy sniffled, but did as he was told.

Maybe it was because he was too tired to argue with the only person he even had left. Maybe it was because he could tell Technoblade was mad at their father for the first time in his life, and he knew how bad his first time had felt. Or, maybe, it was just because he knew Techno fucking cared. Nobody else seemed to, but he knew Techno did and...that was enough for him.

As long as someone else cared—as long as it was fucking Technoblade—that was enough for him.

Just as Tommy had finished the braid, curling his finger around the light pink tail that tied the whole thing off, Techno yanked it forward. Before he could even register that the hair had left his hand, the older boy had taken an axe to the top of it, letting the rest of his hair fall around his face in uneven curls. Though it was a good ten minutes of work wasted, Tommy couldn’t say a damn thing as he watched Techno pocket the braid, muttering a thank you and heading in the direction of Wilbur’s unofficial grave.

In that moment, he felt relief for the first time in a long while.

—

Wilbur Soot was born covered in vernix and blood, weighing just barely above the seven-pound mark, and he came into the world much like he left it. Everyone had heard his cries—even if they weren’t there, even if they didn’t know him well—they had saw the way he spiraled, desperate and afraid and paranoid, searching for help, but never receiving enough.

And though he was the second child born, he left the world first, returning in a yellow sweater with a small braid tucked behind his ear. He didn’t really know why he had one, but he remembered braiding Techno’s hair and he remembered teaching Tommy how to do his own and he remembered, he remembered, he remembered the braids.

[cracklingbooks]

hi so i have a fic request, but honestly i just want soldezangelo content so its fine if u dont feel like writing that haha

prompt: after nico wakes up from a terrifying nightmare, will and leo goes to comfort him and let him know how much they love him. :)

idk im just in a mood for fluff haha, but this also works for solangelo <3 thank you again!

Thank you very much for trusting me with your prompt, I hope you'll like how it turned out! I’ll be honest, I didn’t know that soldezangelo was a thing till today, so I wasn’t sure whether it was like a proper ship or a bromance or whatever... I’m sorry! So basically I made a solangelo + Leo thing! :)

I truly hope you like it, since it’s my first ever prompt! Ugh

I posted it on ao3 too 

He had no idea how he had arrived there, all he could remember were bits and pieces of the journey; long gaunt hands, dead trees with broken branches, darkness all around him. And oh, the feeling of complete solitude. It was encompassing.

Nico was the only one in that lonely land and he felt completely lost.

And then he saw it, like a beacon in the night: the faintest light in the distance and it was calling his name, like a sweet lullaby. It looked like the sun, but it was overshadowed by that thick foggy darkness; it looked impossibly far, but it was calling his name! It had to mean something, Nico was sure.

He started running, running, running, till his heart was about to explode and his lungs were imploding. The light didn’t look closer at all, but the voice kept shouting his name, always louder, till Nico thought it was going to break its voice.

That’s when he recognized it. Will. That was Will’s voice and he sounded incredibly pained.

Nico stumbled and while he was falling to his knees, he cried out Will’s name, holding his gaze fixed on the light like it was the only thing able to keep him together. He was falling and his pieces were crushing to the ground in a loud noise of clattering. He seemed to keep falling for centuries, because his body didn’t hit the soil right away.

His voice was scratched, broken like he was, “Will!”

He kept falling and falling, till the darkness swallowed him whole. That’s just what happened to lost boys.

He didn’t know how much time passed, but at some point, he was laying on the ground. It didn’t happen with a loud crush; he knew he was laying down because he felt the cold grass tickle his neck. His body was shivering impossibly and he felt nauseous, but above him there was the brightest starry sky he’d ever seen. He was back at Camp Half Blood.

He breathed deeply, trying to take everything in, but his lungs were hurting, so he started coughing convulsively.

“What…?” He heard a voice, but it was barely more than a whisper over the thundering blood in his ears. “Nico!”

Then there were two faces over him, hands running over his arms, looking for injuries.

You won’t find any scar, Nico wanted to say, I’m a broken boy, but there is no proof of that on my skin.

He tried to back away from those preoccupied touches, but his limbs were to heavy to be moved, much less controlled. He was trembling and colliding, he didn’t know how to stop. He just wanted everything to stop spinning so fast.

A light appeared from somewhere above him and was pointed at his face; he couldn’t see anything anymore over that terrible brightness, but the voice spoke again, sounding a little panicked, “He doesn’t seem hurt, but I don’t know if we can move him.”

There was a shy answer, but Nico couldn’t make the words out, because the newly appeared light brought back to his mind the light he’d seen earlier and he just needed to know that Will was okay. It took him a couple of tries, but in the end, he managed to croak out, “Will… please.”

There was a hand in his hair, pulling it back from his eyes. “You’re right, Nico.” The voice said, “Go call Will, and tell him to come here as fast as he can. Tell him Nico needs help, he’ll be here in no time. Go!”

The light disappeared immediately. A gentle hand helped him to sit up and suddenly he was staring right at Leo, his cheeks almost completely covered in grease, and his eyes were big and worried. He felt immediately relieved at the sight, because it was so familiar that he almost felt like he wasn’t completely lost. Just a little.

He swallowed the dump in his throat and Leo’s gaze never left his face.

“What happened?” Nico asked, squeezing his eyelids for a second, trying to make his eyes focus. He was seeing a blurry world.

“You should tell me, mate.” Leo replied, kindly. “We were going back to our cabin when we heard you shout and cough. Did someone hurt you?”

Nico shook his head.

Leo whispered the next question, like he wanted to give Nico the chance to pretend he didn’t hear his words, “Why are you crying, then?”

Nico hadn’t realized he was crying, but now that he knew he was doing it, he couldn’t stop. He tried to hide his face, letting his hair fall in front of his face. “I don’t know.” He said, honestly. “I’m just defective, I guess.”

Leo wasn’t having any of that. He shook his head and cupped Nico’s cheeks, tilting his head back to make him meet his gaze, “You aren’t, Nico. Not even a bit.”

Nico sighed and wrapped his arms around his own body, trying to stop the tremors. “You are a mechanic, Leo. You can fix anything.” He squeezed his eyes, trying to breathe, but it wasn’t working. “Fix me, please. Just fix me. I don’t want to be like this anymore.”

He sounded desperate and pathetic, he knew that, but the world was spinning and blurry and he just wanted it to fucking stop.

Without notice, Leo pulled him in his arms, clenching him in a bone-wrecking hug. Nico buried his face in the crook of his neck and let himself be rocked gently; Leo smelled like grease and steel and fire. Nico tried to let that scent warm him up.

Leo said, “You aren’t broken, Nico. Your heart may be a little chipped because of all the things you’ve been through, but each time you filled the cracks with gold. It may be heavy now, but it’s strong and beautiful and beating. You are alive, Nico, and if there is air in your lungs, it means you aren’t broken. So I need you to focus; breathe, please.”

And he did. He took in a deep breath and another and another, till eventually his lungs remembered how to work on their own.

There were loud footsteps and branches breaking and then Will was there, running toward them at full speed. He crushed by Nico’s side on his knees and Leo let him go, sitting back on his heels.

Nico’s relief rolled off of his body in hot waves at the sight of that messy blonde hair and those damn freckles of his, because Will was there and he was okay. He was okay okay okay. That was the most important thing.

Nico could deal with being broken, but he could’ve never been able to see Will being hurt or lost. Never. He could bear his own pain as long as he knew Will’s heart was happy and pumping blood in his body.

Will’s hands were everywhere. On Nico’s cheeks, his arms, his hair, his chest, his thighs, his neck. In that moment, Will wasn’t wearing his boyfriend face, no. He was full-on doctor. “Are you hurt? Do you have wounds? Did you hit your head?”

Nico shook his head three times, one for each question. Since Will didn’t even flinch, he added, “I’m okay.”

Will took in a sharp breath and held Nico in his arms so tightly that it was like he was trying to hold all of his shattered pieces together. It was with that smell of home and that familiar warmth, that Nico’s body family stopped trembling. He rubbed his forehead against Will’s neck and he felt like coming back to life.

Ah, Gods. He wasn’t sure whether he was listening to his own heartbeat or to Will’s or to a mix of both, but he felt completely filled with love. The darkness dissipated slowly, one steady beat after the other.

After a time – three minutes or maybe three centuries – Will eventually pulled back to look at his face, but kept his hands securely on Nico’s arms, almost as if he was worried that he could disappear at any moment right in front of his eyes.

Nico saw the exact second when Will’s face went from doctor to boyfriend. “Oh, you scared me to death, Nico! I’ll lock you in your cabin for the rest of the summer and you’ll never ever be allowed to be out of my sight ever again. You are an absolute menace, I almost had a heart attack! If I’ll have white hair by my mid-twenties, it’ll be your fault, damn you!” He was mumbling quickly; too many words to say in so little time. Relief was now rolling off of Will too, even if it was mixed with a lot of other feelings.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know… I’m not sure how I got here.” Nico’s mind was a little blurred and he couldn’t remember much of that day.

“You shadow-travelled in your sleep, Nico. You were having a nightmare and I tried to shake you awake and call your name, but you didn’t wake up. And then you just disappeared. I looked for you everywhere, but couldn’t find you anywhere. Then Leo’s brother found me and told me where you were. Thank the Gods they were here.” He turned to look at Leo and hugged him too, “Thank you, Leo. Gods, thank you.”

Leo shrugged and offered a little smile, “Boys with chipped hearts have to stick together.” He says and even if Will couldn’t really understand, Nico did.

What Leo meant was that Nico wasn’t alone. Not alone at all.

Leo stood up and grinned at them, before running his fingers fondly on their hair, “It’s better if I go to sleep. You’re in good hands now, Nico. I’ll see you both at breakfast, try to get some sleep, huh?”

Nico barely had the time to thank him, before he disappeared with a yawn in the trees, where one of his brothers were watching us curiously.

Soon, Nico and Will were alone and even if it took them quite some time, they managed to get to Nico’s cabin. He was leaning almost completely against Will’s body, because he was so knackered that his legs weren’t bothering working more than he strict necessary, but Will didn’t seem to mind at all; if anything, he held Nico closer with every step.

Will helped him change his pyjama, that was stained with grass and mud, and then changed his own (because of course he kept some of his clothes at the Hades’ cabin).

They slid under the blankets, in those sheets that smelled both like light and darkness, like Will and Nico. It had been a while since they had smelled just like Nico, since for the whole summer Will had slept with him.

Will pulled him closer and Nico placed his head on that spot on his chest, where he could feel both Will’s heartbeat in one ear and feel his warm breath caressing his opposite cheek. That was Nico’s favourite place in the whole world. Screw that, in the whole universe.

“I could’ve accidentally taken you with me when I shadow-travelled, I’m sorry.” Nico whispered, feeling guilty.

“I don’t care.” Will replied, softly.

“But you could’ve been hurt.” He insisted. The thought was almost unbearable.

“I don’t care,” he said again, rubbing circles on Nico’s back with his hands, “Besides, if you’d taken me with you, I could’ve made sure that you were okay sooner. So, please, next time take me with you. I’d like it better if you didn’t go away at all, but if you do, take me with you.”

Nico couldn’t really find any word to tell Will just how much in love with him he was, so he kissed softly his chest and hoped it was enough.

“Are you okay, by the way? Do you want to tell me about your nightmare? It could help.” Will whispered, holding Nico closer.

Since he barely remembered his nightmare, Nico shook his head a little. The only memory embroided in his mind was the feeling of losing Will in the darkness, so he said, “Just… don’t ever leave me, okay?”

“How could I ever? You own my heart, Nico; you know that.” He whispered; then, “I don’t say it often enough, but I love you. I love you.”

Nico tilted his head back a stole a kiss from those soft lips, “I love you, too.”

Then, safe from that blinding darkness and that feeling of solitude, Nico managed to fall asleep in the arms of his boyfriend, who held him tightly. The last thing he heard before drifting off was Will’s low sleepy voice murmuring a lullaby in his ear, like he always did whenever Nico had a nightmare.

His dreams were filled with kisses and rays of sunshine and home home home.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Changes

Summery- Bucky returns home after a mission, and makes some slight changes. Soft, Sweet, Flashbacks in italiacs. Written for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ Stars Follower Celebration. The prompt- “Im never letting you leave this bed again” Thank you @curtisbbq​ for letting me borrow your idea. 

Word Count- 2833

Bucky returned to the compound, dirty, rough around the edges, and just fucken damn glad to be home. What an odd thought, he really start to feel like this was home, YOU were home. The first time since he left for the army way back when, now he had a place to settle down, let himself explore something he had yearned for for a lifetime to most.He was home, he had to admit being able to get used to this.

Following Sam to weapons lock up, he just replaced most of his tactical gear, the weapons, well they were his babies, and all needed to be personally attended to, cleaned before he could in good concious put them in the lock up. Sam slammed the cage door after putting away his Falcon Wings when he looked over at Bucky. 

“You know, you might wanna clean up before going up to Y/N, especially your hair man.” 

Bucky really didnt know what he was going on about, but reaching up, he could feel the rats nest of tangles that formed, 2 weeks in some remote bum fuck area being shot at would do that. And honestly he was ripe, it probably wouldnt do well for the upcoming reunion between the two of you. 

“Trust me, your not any better off.” Bucky retorts back, locking his own cage door, and headed towards the showers. 

“The ladies all love me!” Sam called to Buckys retreating back, chuckling in amusement, opting to head back to his own apartment. After the couple weeks they been with each other every waking moment, they both needed a break from one another.

After his shower Bucky stood at the mirror, alone in the facility, and the mess that showed back in his reflection made him wince. Sure the bruises and cuts, not a big deal. He would heal from those fairly quickly. He managed to work out the mess of a knot, It looked just like himself looking back, but he wasnt seeing James “Bucky”  Buchanan Barnes, no, he still saw The Winter Soldier, the man with an unknown number of kills under his belt.  But he knew... He remembered every single one. The knowledge brought him the greatest grief, it was heavy on his shoulders, even with the vibranium arm holding him up. It made his physical aches pale in comparison, 

Nearby his phone gave off your ringtone, and he snapped back out of his thoughts, glancing down to see a picture of you two lighting up the screen,and suddenly that heaviness was gone. 

You were playing music on your phone as the two of you walked the compound grounds after a long exhausting day. Honestly Bucky would have been content to crashing on the couch to reruns of Bobs Burgers, you always would giggle during that dumbass show. But you insisted on this first. “Please Bucky, just a quick walk down to the river” He relented, you did ask so nicely. His arm rested lightly around your hip as you would sweep down to pluck a flower and twirl it in your fingers before twisting it into the crown of your head. 

“Where the brave are free and lovers soar Come ride with me to the distant shore We won't hesitate to break down the garden gate There's not much time left today Life is a highway I want to ride it all night long...”

You phone sang and you plucked it out, opening the camera as you moved behind him, jumping up on his back, catching Bucky by surprise, his arm shoots behind to help hold you up. 

“Smile Barnes!” Resting your chin atop his head, and his eyes rolled up in a exasperated look, the corner of his mouth coming up in a grin at you. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist and slid down a bit, like a hug from behind, and nuzzled your face against his own. 

God Damn He loved you. 

You gave him joy 

‘Heard your FINALLY are back. See you tonight when I get home. Im gonna blow this popsicle stand early. Picking up chinese. Dont worry, Im going to get that orange chicken extra spicy. Cant wait to see you. Love you Sargent. XOXO’ 

And ahh, there it was, Home. He thought seeing your message, the way you were all about blowing off the rest of your day to come back, taking care of him picking up his favorite guilty pleasure, and the way you insisted on calling him Sargent, even before the two of you started taking your friendship further. Simply setting his phone down, his gaze lifted back to the mirror, and thats when he decided he wanted to bring Sargent Bucky Barnes back. Collecting a hair clipping kit from the shelf, he got to work. 

Waiting for the elevator to bring him up the flights, his hand went to brush through the shortly cropped hair, it was a bit more in style with today, a mess of tufts atop his head, it was different, it would be different for you. You were so used to the longer look and always told him how you loved them. Hell the first time you two started hanging out, you snuck in his room and braided it just for the hell of it much to his horror. How would you react to this? The elevator buzzed open and he went down the hall to your shared apartment, the door locked. 

Digging out his keys, they clink against the vibranium of his hand letting him know he had them in his grasp and pulled them out of his jeans pockets, getting the door unlocked, and stepping inside, its all quiet. Usually you had a bit of music playing of some sort in the background. He never knew what it would be, you were set on giving him an education of lyrics and tunes. So far he had no complaints with your choices. Dropping his keys in the bowl you kept as your “Keep all the shit off my kitchen counter” bowl, he went to go see what you were last playing for music. Picking up the ipod you so lovingly cherished, he pressed play. And guess what the song was. 

Disney. Lion King to be exact. You had just gotten out of the shower and were singing to Hakuna Matata, and Bucky had been stretched out on the end of the bed, watching you in the steamy bathroom, wriggle your hips as you pull your panties up over your ass “When I was a young warthoooog!” Bucky broke out in laughter right here, pushing himself up to sit and you pulled one of his shirts over your head as you left the bathroom, continuing along with your song, and cupping his face, looking down at him. 

“It means no worries For the rest of your days It's our problem-free philosophy Hakuna Matata!”

You wink at him and kiss his forehead, his arm lopes around your hip, drawing you to sit in his lap, kissing in the curve of your shoulder and neck, placing feather light nips and trace of his nose along the softness, inhaling your honeysuckle softness. You trail fingers along his shoulder and nuzzle into him, enjoying the early morning moment, before the day truly started. 

“We should adopt that philosophy you know” You say chuckling as your still humming the tune softly, swinging your legs that dangled over Buckys lap. “Means no worries, no worries about us showing up to work on time.” He chuckles against your shoulder and lifts his head to kiss your lips, playing at nipping between tangling of tongues and pulling away. “And have Sam come barging up here demanding to know where my ass was not down training the new recruits? He wouldnt know where to start with this group.” You scoff with a roll of your eyes, and nudge him to fall back, straddling his hips and running hands up his chest. “You think Im scared of the Falcon, bring it Oversized Pigeon.”

Fuck he loved you.

You gave him so much laughter. 

Turning it up further, he went to go grab a beer from the fridge and with a twist, he flung the cap into the disposal, taking a drag off it. He never knew he would enjoy these craft beers you insisted on buying cause “There seasonal bits of goodness, let me have my weakness... well one of my weakness” A very obvious salacious wink thrown his way. A lick of his lips cleared any residue on the beer and he was about to check his phone to see if you sent him another message, usually you were good about blowing it up when he heard the door handle click open, and with your usual gusto of chaos, swept in. Your keys missed the bowl, of course. You never actually followed your own rules. And a quick kick sent sneakers flying off your feet. “Bucky Baby, that better be you. If it isnt, im about to whoop ass on whomever it is.” 

You come around the corner and dump the bags of chinese on the counter, still not having seen Bucky, but you caught sight of a flash of him over your shoulder, in the living room. You couldnt wait to see your man, it had been so long, and Fuck you just missed him. Tossing everything else down on the counter, hell you were all about breaking rules, especially your own, your turn on the balls of his feet, calling him again “Bucky Barnes, I so- “ Cutting yourself off immediately when you step into the living room and your mouth hangs open a bit in surprise. Self consciously he touches the top of his head. 

“You... You cut your hair!” It was said in surprise, pure surprise. Its not like normally something like this would surprise you with a regular person, this was Bucky Barnes, the man who tried to stay as routine as possible for the simple fact it was that he was in complete control of himself, and that is what he was all about. You had never seen him even have the desire to cut his hair, ever. 

“You like?” His voice is soft, almost a child like softness to it, and a worried look on his face, like maybe he made a mistake? You give a shake of your head, and that surprise looks fades into an excited one, crossing the room to reach him.

“Baby, fuck I LOVE IT”

You two are driving, no where in particular. You were restless, the hot sunshine weather making you itch to go for a drive, Imagine Buckys surprise when you held up a pair of keys to Tonys Acura Nsx, wiggling brows at him. 

“Is that... Starks keys?” Bucky questioned when you tossed them at him, wrapping your arm around his and tugging him along. 

“Yup, ssshh, we will bring it back. Were just borrowing it. For the day.” 

“You know your starting to remind me of Steve.” He accused as you two entered the garage, and he opened the convertibles door for you, slipping inside. 

“Sorry baby, he doesnt borrow rigs this nice. Im a class all my own.” Giving him a smirk, you slammed the door shut and he just shook his head while circling to the drivers side. 

Miles away, Bucky is loosening up to your little trip, your flipping the radio to some random station, singing along in that soft voice of yours. 

“So baby pull me closer in the backseat of your Rover That I know you can't afford Bite that tattoo on your shoulder Pull the sheets right off the corner Of the mattress that you stole...”

Bucky glanced over at you while you were so lost in the moment, your feet were dangling out the door, you yourself were angled to lean into him, the aviator glasses slid down to the tip of your nose, and with a push of the button, you dropped the top down, your long tresses of hair whipping around you, you slid your hand into his and lifted it to your face, brushing his knuckles along the side of your face, your eyes sparking over the glasses at him. His foot pushed onto the gas, and the the Acura sped up, taking you two anywhere and nowhere at the same time, it didnt matter anymore what the plan was. 

Chaos and All, he loved you. 

You gave him adventures.

“Do you?” Relief crossing his face and easing the tension he held, your hands immediately brushing into the soft locks of hair, marveling now at how soft they were, sprigs popping in between fingers and you bit your lip, eyes shinning up at him, in a playful manner, you gave a slight tug and stepped in closer to him. 

“Bucky, absolutely I do, this is the best surprise ever, even better then when you let me call you Bucky Bear in public.” 

He rolled his eyes and snorted, tracing his hand over your hip to grasp your ass. “That was a one time thing, and the barista was clearly uncomfortable writing ‘Y/N’s Bucky Bear; on the cup.” Who is he kidding? He actually loved it and you knew it. You wiggle your nose at him and place a loving kiss on his lips. 

“Yet you still allowed it. But why, tell me why the change?” 

How you managed to drag him to the museum display once again, he didnt know. But this seemed to be something you loved, the two of you walking quietly around the different exhibits. Reading over the information, and your questions would draw stories out of him that others didnt know, short of Rogers. His gaze would lift to the faces of his howling commando brothers, from a life time ago, and you would tumble into a decent part of his past. No, it wasnt perfect. There were hard memories edging the shadows of his mind, but you only encouraged the better parts, the parts he was proud to tell. 

“It was our fifth hydra outpost, and the prisoners they had kept there were the rowdiest bunch. They drank all of us under the table that night in celebration. Short of Steve... poor guy couldnt even catch nothing more then a few minute buzz.” 

You shake your head chuckling and wrinkle your nose at the idea. “Well that would suck, cant even get yourself a proper buzz, let alone drunk. I dont know, maybe the serum wasnt worth it.” Moving the two of you to the next display, and he caught a look on your face, and then turned his attention to what you were staring at. A picture of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, himself with a piece of his history. “This one here, my favorite display in here. You look so handsome, so proud.” Your head would rest on his shoulder. “But Im gonna be honest, your best picture is the one on my nightstand. They should have that in here.” One of all of you back at the compound, you and Natasha playing video games against him and Steve. in that photo he was laughing at something Natasha had said, a deep laugh, holding onto Steves shoulder as he doubled over.

He looked at the photo, tucking you in close to his side, but remained silent. That one on the wall was a life time ago, but yes, he was proud of who he was before Hydra.

Quietly, He loved you

You gave him Pride.

“It was just time for a change Y/N, time to say goodbye to that part of myself I just... I cant take any of it back, but I can move on from it. Im ready for our memories to be what I see in the mirror.” He confessed, his gaze falling down to look lower then in your eyes, and you, well damned if that man couldnt stir you to your soul. 

Your hands cup his face to bring his gaze back up, kissing him fiercely, no hold back, all of it was just poured into this kiss to your Bucky Barnes, he accepted it. His arms pulled you up to wrap your legs around his hips, and a hand snaked up the back of your shirt, pressing the small of your back in flush against him, your chest crushing against his and your arms loped around his neck. Falling back against the couch, you arch up from where you were sitting low on his stomach, running your arms down his chest. “Get comfy Sergeant, Im never letting you leave this bed again.” 

His brows lifted as his hands moved to lightly grasp your thighs on either side on his waist. “Baby, you know this is the couch....?” 

“Shut up Barnes, we will make it to the bed eventually, now kiss me like you missed me, cause fuck I missed you!” 

Always, He loved you

You gave him his Home.

@p8tn0lish @what-is-your-plan-today @official-and-unstable-satan @jtargaryen18

“

[lillupon]

So, I've got a very long rant/opinion here and Idk really know how to say this without coming off kinda bad but I'm gonna say it anyways. I agree with the fact that the seventeen tag has been kinda dry lately on most fanfic places, but it's really only in the smut area. It's the sane way with other groups too I feel like. All of the nice little innocent tags are boomin to this day and thats completely fine. I think the smut tag is dry tho bc lately I feel like a few social issues (like sexualizing people and disrespecting them and their identity) have crossed over into kpop and have been ?blown out of proportion? Lately there's been a rampage of people who like to say that writing smut about someone is disgusting and is dehumanizing because people want to assume that it would make the idols uncomfortable which could equate to some morality issues on how you are reducing someone only to their body without their consent and a bunch of stuff like that. It kind of pisses me off bc this is fiction. About grown adults. Clamping down on horny people who simp over hot asian men isn't going to solve the issues we face in real life. I think a shit ton is wrong with the world we currently live in, and deciding to come after something that isn't even real bothers me. Like what does that actually accomplish. But yeah, I think thats a reason why smut has been dying down. I mean, on youtube almost every video about unpopular opinions, or things they dont like about kpop will include something about shipping idols in fanfics. And then everyone in the comment section will talk about how its all fine and dandy in moderation, but once people start writing smut it's crossing the idols personal boundaries. It's something I've been seeing a lot more often and I think people who are interested in writing smut are being turned away from it bc we've gotten to a point where people are being called disgusting for having fantasies.

Hi Anon, thank you for sending in this Ask. 

I want to preface this by saying: when I write or talk about Mingyu and Wonwoo fucking on my blog, it is a fantasy. I am not speculating about what the real Mingyu and Wonwoo might be like in bed. I am imagining the versions of Mingyu and Wonwoo that I have created in my head, that exist only in my stories. None of it is real. I understand that this can be a blurry boundary for some people. But for me, the separation between fantasy and reality is well-defined. Now, on to your Ask!

You’ve hit the nail on the head with this one. You’ve also touched on many of the issues I have been struggling with myself as of late. It’s difficult to argue about morals since everyone has a different set of values, as well as different comfort levels. Some people think real person fiction (RPF) is a gross invasion of privacy. Others are fine with it. And others don’t care one way or another. There is no single answer; I can only offer my answer. Which means, of course, people are welcome to disagree with it, or parts of it. 

In this essay (LOL But forreal: this is an essay), I will be sharing my experience in the k-pop fanfic community from 2014 to present, the etiquette I personally abide by as a reader and writer of RPF, as well as my stance on RPF in general.

I started reading and posting fanfics back in 2014/2015 on a website called AsianFanfics (AFF). Obviously, no one on that site had a problem with RPF, since AFF is a platform made specifically for sharing stories about Asian celebrities. For many years, I read and enjoyed RPF with zero guilt. I scribbled away by myself in my own corner of fandom and curated my own content. I didn’t interact much with other fans, readers, or writers. I didn’t have a Twitter, and I only used tumblr to reblog memes. As a result, I’ve been able to avoid a lot of anti-shipping discourse, as well as purity and cancel culture. I had no idea there were so many negative opinions about RPF. It wasn’t until I became active on the subreddit r/Fanfiction last year that I learned about all the discourse surrounding RPF. 

This newfound ‘awareness’ does make me feel guilty at times—but only because after mulling this over, I still don’t think this is something to feel guilty about.

Here’s what I remember, first and foremost, when I create and consume RPF: fanfics and my favourite ships are fictional, and fiction is fantasy. This is basic etiquette when it comes to RPF, and most people in the k-pop fandom understand this. Delusional fans exist, of course, but they are not representative of the entire k-pop community. 

Another point of etiquette is to keep fanfics within fandom spaces. I would never push my fics into celebrities’ faces, or go around claiming that my fanfics are accurate representations of a k-idol’s life or personality, in any way, shape, or form. I would also discourage directing ship-related questions to official accounts, or bringing them up during fansigns or other face-to-face interactions; I believe that in these instances, shipping does have the potential to strain real-life relationships.

So with basic etiquette out of the way, let me share my approach to RPF in general.

As much as we like to think we know our favourite celebrities, we really don’t. All we see is their public persona. And this public persona is intentionally controlled, managed, and curated by a team of people: directors, tabloids, editors, makeup artists, publicists, etc. How “real” are these celebrities? We are so distanced from them that they may as well be fictional.

I draw from the public persona that idols project, and I work them into my own writing. But at the end of the day, these personalities are my own interpretation. My interpretation is probably nothing like an idol’s actual personality. I just use the “public persona/character” that idols portray as inspiration for my own stories, which are set in wildly different universes.

More than anything, I think of k-pop idols as “actors” in my fic. You know how when you write an original novel, you scroll through Google images, looking for the perfect person to portray your original character? RPF is literally that, except you might build upon pre-existing dynamics and personalities.

When it comes to explicit fanfiction, two main concerns are prevalent: one of consent, and one of sexualisation.

If we argue against explicit RPF due to lack of consent, we should be willing to apply the same lens to all explicit works. How do we know that the creator of a movie, book, series, etc., is okay with us using their characters in our stories, explicit or not? We don’t. Perhaps some creators encourage fanfiction, but don’t want their lovingly crafted characters engaging in sexual acts or experiencing trauma. We just don’t know. I feel this line is even more blurred when we talk about characters from movies or TV series.

Let’s take Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, as portrayed by Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan, from the Captain America movies as an example. I am willing to bet that when people consume and create explicit fanfiction about Steve and Bucky, they are imagining Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan in their heads. I doubt many people are imagining the 2D cartoon versions of Steve and Bucky, even though they’re technically the exact same characters. Why? Well, it could be because movies are more readily and easily consumed than comics, and so people are unfamiliar with comic book Steve and Bucky. But it might also be because fans find Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan attractive. Is this really any different from RPF, where fic authors make up everything about a celebrity’s life?  

When readers and writers of fanfic talk about how hot Steve Rogers or Bucky Barnes is, those comments are about Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan’s bodies. When reading explicit stories, fans are going to picture Chris and Sebastian’s bodies in their head, doing sexual things. Can we say, “Well, it’s not really you, Chris/Sebastian”, when in a way, it is?

The reality is, people are going to thirst over celebrities, regardless of whether or not explicit fanfiction exists. They’re going to post thirst tweets on Twitter. They’re going to talk to friends and strangers online about how hot [insert celebrity name here] is. They’re going to fantasize about dating and having sex with their favourite celebrity. Or, as it is in my case, they’re going to make up stories in their heads about their favourite idols dating and banging each other. People are going to do all of this without ‘getting consent’ from the celebrity. Cracking down upon and shaming writers of RPF isn’t going to change any of that.

To be honest, I’m not sure why people think it is disgusting to imagine sexual scenarios about real people. It is okay and normal to have these kinds of fantasies. I suppose the alternative is to fantasise about having sex with cartoon characters instead? It’s a very binary way of thinking to say that if you imagine/write real people in explicit scenarios, you are immediately sexualising, dehumanising, or objectifying them. There is more to dehumanisation than writing smut about our favourite celebrities. For one thing, you can love someone and appreciate all parts of them, and still want to fuck their brains out. And generally, fanfics come from a place of love—love that is not only sexual in nature.

Is it the sharing aspect inherent to fanfiction? The possibility that a celebrity might stumble upon explicit works about them? The chances are very low, I think, of the k-pop idols I enjoy writing about coming across my English fics. But I also believe in curating your own content, and that applies to celebrities too. Perhaps a celebrity should not go searching for fanfics about themselves. And of course, people should not show celebrities their fanfics, unless invited.

Another argument I hear against (explicit) RPF is, “How would you feel if someone wrote fanfiction about you?” First off, I don’t like this argument because there’s a difference between someone who decides to be a public figure versus someone who decides to remain a regular private citizen. Celebrities should and do know what they’re getting into when they choose their occupation. (This is not to say, “They are celebrities; sexualise them all you want because that’s what they signed up for.” Here, I am only acknowledging that people might have sexual fantasies about celebrities they are attracted to. Presumably, celebrities are cognizant of this.)  

If someone (whose existence I am not even aware of, mind you) decides they want to write explicit fanfiction of me in some tiny corner of the Internet, I wouldn’t care so long as: (1) they don’t shove it into my face, and (2) they don’t harass me and ask invasive questions about my personal life and relationships. It’s not hurting me or negatively affecting my life, so it wouldn’t even register as a blip on my radar. When fanfiction remains within its appropriate spaces, it is largely harmless. 

Now, if a k-pop idol were to ask their fans to stop writing fanfiction about them, would I? Yes, I would. However, I can’t imagine that happening. Judging by the number of ‘sexy’ concepts, fanservice moments, and variety shows such as ‘We Got Married’, I am certain that k-pop idols realise they are the stars of many fantasies—some of which are explicit in nature. Considering the prevalence of shipping in the k-pop industry, I would argue that shipping is subtly encouraged.

It’s sad that so many talented writers are shamed out of fandom, or feel that k-pop cannot be the medium through which they tell their stories, or explore their sexuality, or cope with trauma, or simply have fun. Professional works and Hollywood love their RPF—readers and writers of fanfics should be able to, as well. 

As you said Anon, “clamping down on horny people who simp over hot asian men isn't going to solve the issues we face in real life” (this is a lovely sentence, by the way). The kind of person who dehumanises another and reduces them to a sexual object will do so some other way, if not via fanfiction. I don’t think the issue of fetishisation can be fixed simply by telling people not to write explicit RPF. In my experience, people who read and write RPF are more respectful and thoughtful about these things than the general public. We’ve all seen the general public say highly sexual things about celebrities in the media and to their faces, or tag celebrities in their thirst tweets. Are these things less invasive than fanfiction? Personally, I don’t think so. And in my opinion, there are more pressing and damaging issues in stan culture than fanfic.

In conclusion, I don’t think there is anything wrong with creating and consuming RPF, both explicit and non-explicit so long as we:

Remember we are writing fiction

Keep RPF within its appropriate space, and

Do not harass celebrities about their personal lives and relationships

RPF is not for everyone. There may be people who enjoy RPF, but draw the line at explicit stories. This is fine. Everyone has their own personal preferences. What is not fine, however, is attacking people for creating things you don’t like. I’m not sure what kind of moral crusade people are on and what they hope to achieve by shaming writers of RPF, explicit or otherwise. Ultimately, fic authors are writing a fantasy. It’s not real; no one is being hurt. I think it’s important for people to curate their own content, and AO3 makes it very easy to filter out explicit works and unwanted tags. 

Maybe this is me trying to justify my own participation in explicit RPF—I don’t know. What I do know is that I love k-pop, and fandom is an important part of my media and entertainment experience. I adore the k-pop idols I write about, and I just want to imagine them being happy and getting lots of love and orgasms. Let a bitch be horny, goddamn… 

Some bonus fun facts!

At the time I am writing this, on AO3:

26.2% of Stray Kids fanfics are rated M or E

26.3% of Seventeen fanfics are rated M or E

29.0% of Merlin fanfics are rated M or E

34.9% of Captain America (Movies) fanfics are rated M or E

40.1% of BTS fanfics are rated M or E ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Coincidentally, I saw this post on Reddit this morning: Can we have a RPF positivity post?

[sofuckingmoe]

To be shameless: To no longer have inhibitions (part 1)

Chuuya knows that shit has gone down the second he wakes up, he can’t identify exactly what happened, can’t even recall what happened that would make him weary but he knows that something has happened and knows that Dazai has something to with it-because when does he not. He shifts and inhales deeply, trying his best to recall what happened-he was on a mission and he was angry- because of the mission?-no- he was on the mission with Dazai, and then what?

There is a sudden shift in his periphery and Chuuya needs only to catch a glimpse of white gauze before he’s yelling and trying to scramble off the bed. and-ohhh- that was bad, it felt as if a vacuum had been created inside his head .Dazai-that bastard-only pins back down, one hand on his shoulder the other splayed on the ruined bedsheets next to Chuuya and gazes at him adoringly. “You look disgusting, slug.”

Chuuya splutters because: What do you say to that? Then “Get your mummy-wannabee ass off of me.” he says-not screams like he wants to because he knows Dazai thrives off of reactions. Dazai ignores him and Chuuya can’t even work up the energy to be properly enraged. 

Dazais moving again, he peers intently at Chuuya then looks away,licks his lips-like a dog- then looks at him again then looks away again. Repeat and so forth, Chuuya tolerates it for a couple of minutes and then gathers his witts and shoves hard at Dazai’s chest. Dazai does the exact opposite of Chuuya wants-what a surprise- and seems to stabilize further, then Dazai inhales deeply-he seems to be stealing himself. He drops his head down and whispers: “You're the actual worst, chibiest, lamest, least scary, slug-mafiosa. Ever.”

Chuuya opens his mouth to properly give Dazai the verbal lashing he so deserves, but Dazai chooses that exact moment to drop down and smash their mouths together.

“!!!” 

Chuuya tills, feels the burning press of Dazai’s mouth against his and then- 

Chuuya shoves Dazai away and screams and keeps screaming until someone comes inside. He faintly registers Dazai’s head dropping down somewhere near his neck.

“You're awake, and here I was hoping to take you apart a bit more, Mr. Mafioso.” A woman is standing at the edge of his bed, short hair, butterfly clip, vaguely maniac looking eyes-Yosano Akiko then. It almost calmed him to know something solid-he had memorized everything the Port Mafia knew about the Detective Agency-her presence here meant that he was at the agency or somewhere associated with the agency.

Chuuya licked his lips, “What happened.” He croaks, he winces at the sticky tacky feeling in his throat. Dazai appeared at his side insistently pressing a glass of water against the side of his face, it's cold Chuuya notes which means that someone-probably not Dazai- left it there, huh. He accepts it, but only so he can properly gather himself. It's unlikely that there will be any sort of altercation because of the alliance between the Port Mafia and The ADA but Chuuya wanted to be prepared. He was in enemy territory after all.

“No ones gonna hurt, won't allow it.”Dazai says, his mouth pressed against his Chuuya neck. Chuuya can feel the curve of his smile when Chuuya shudders. “That's right, no one can do much to you Chuuya-san, Dazai barely let me touch you, and I’m the one who healed you.” Yosano Akiko said. Chuuya stared at her, not sure what to do, his neck felt hot and prickly.

“Thank you.” He said numbly, “But what happened-Dazai….?” Chuuya made a starge aborted gesture at Dazai, who was draped over him. “Why is he so-, he’s umm, he-.” Chuuya flushed. 

“He seems to be very attached to you doesn't he? You hit your head pretty hard, and it’s not surprising that you forgot some things. But you do remember that you and Dazai were on a mission, right?”

“Yeah, we were supposed to get something…?”

“Documents pertaining to a possible attack on Yokohama.” Yosano informed him curtly, “You succeed dont worry, but you had to use corruption, and Dazai got hit by an ability. An ability called ‘To Be Shameless. It seems to make the person who was hit by it, disregard their inhibitions. This seems to be the reason for Dazai's attachment to you.

There's a sudden screech from outside and bangs, and both Chuuya and Yosano turn to stare at the door, Dazai remains unperturbed.

“Excuse me.” Yosano left with a polite nod in his direction. Leaving him alone, with Dazai, who was moving. “Now that you're awake, Chuuya can answer a little question of mine.” Ignoring Chuuyas struggles, Dazai bore down on him. “ So why did Chuuya use Corruption without me.” Dazai snarled, resentment in his voice.

Chuuya freezes. Dazai angry as if he has any right. as if he hadn’t commanded Chuuya to use Corruption based whims, as if it hadn’t saved his life on several occasions.

“Fuck off.” Chuuta hissed, a stinging sensation erupted on his side and Chuuta hissed grabbing at his side. Dazai grabbed him, seemingly concerned. And hauled Chuuya straight into his lap. Chuuya spluttered at the indignity of it all. He stilled when Dazai’s arms encircled him and pressed  him against the others chest-a parody of an embrace. “What the fuck Dazai?” Chuuya hissed attempting to push Dazais face away from his shoulder. Dazai sighed seemingly content. “Shh, I’m wallowing.” Dazai said.

“In what bastard?” Chuuya groaned attempting to swat Dazai away from his, Dazai only tightened his arms around him-A fucking octopus. 

“So Chuuya, why’d you use Corruption, perhaps seeing me injured set you off.” Dazai mused, tracing little patterns in Chuuya skin, his bare skin, because Chuuya wasn't wearing a shirt. Chuuya doesn't smack Dazai but it’s close, as he scrambles for the edge of the bed, his elbow collides with Dazai's side. Chuuta attempted to leap off the bed but was dragged back down by Dazai.”Let me go right now!” Chuuya shouted “Or I’ll scream and then you're gonna have to explain why you're keeping man inside your office against his will.” In a fit of frustration he kicked at Dazai, who dodged it smoothly and grabbed his ankle placing it against his side. 

“C’mon Chibi, don’t be like that, no one's going to hurt you.” Dazai soothed, moving closer to Chuuya. “We have an alliance with the Port Mafia. Remember, at most your ego is going to be bruised when you realize that Atsushi has gotten taller then you.”  He continued, smiling down at Chuuya.  His smile turned more sinister as he crowded Chuuya against the bed. 

“You still haven't answered my question, Chuuya, You. Corruption. Why?”

“Fuck you” Chuuya spat glaring.

Dazai grinned widely “Gladly.”

[gaycharr]

Stages of Grief

A bit different than my usual writing style i think, just a quick(ish) thing. Do the stages of grief apply to a life? When you lose your way, that is also a sort of grief, is it not ?

Vetrius and, in a way, resolutions. Initially inspired by @tyrias-library ‘s resolutions prompt but idk if it follows that theme enough to still count 

warning for themes of depression and talk of suicide

Shock and Denial

Childhood is innocent, yes, but at what point does that naivete start to change into a painful awareness of those around you? Vetrius could pinpoint the exact moment.

She’d never given much thought to her own image until here. She was happy, and sociable. She enjoyed chatting with the others in her Fahrar and never thought twice about offering a hand to another.

It seemed this very thing was what would bring her new revelation around. Practicing in the yard (swords today) after a heavy rain. When her sparring partner slipped backwards, falling heavily to the ground as their sword thudded away, there was no hesitation on her end. She dropped her sword, stepped forward to offer her hand to her friend, and froze at the look on their face.

They sneered up at her angrily, eyes glittering. Vet felt numb as they slapped her paw from them and scrambled to their paws themself. She didn’t react even as the smaller cub shoved at her shoulders, making her take a step back as she blinked at them, still processing.

“Burn it! You’re so...so..SOFT! Can’t you just be normal?” The other cub hissed at her before stalking away. Vet felt her ears burning under the weight of the stares of the others. Her stomach churned. How had she missed this? Now that she looked, she noticed the pattern of slit gazes and twitching tails. How bodies angled from her and the line of the shoulders grew tense and flat.

Vet clenched her fangs. No, no, this was fine. This was normal. Nothing had happened.

Pain and Guilt

In the wake of her newfound hyper vigilance of others, Vetrius seemed to see evidence of her wrongness everywhere. Always too ready to offer a smile, to compromise, to lend a hand. These came naturally to her, but now it was soured by the jarring realization that these weren’t strengths, but weaknesses. It sat heavy within her, writhing and occasionally growing overwhelming and clawing up her throat.

At night she curled up on her bunk in a tight ball hugging her knees to her chest, tail wrapped around her. She clenched her teeth against the cresting waves of despair within her, clawed at the sheets in the breathless pain of emotion. What had she done to be so alone?

Anger 

Slowly, so slowly, Vet’s pain and despair started to boil into anger. Why was it so hard for others to just accept each other, to be kind? Why was SHE the odd one out, for having fucking compassion? How dare she give a shit, how dare they treat her like this!

She withdrew ever further within herself. No longer attempting to bridge the gap between her and others, what was the point, she didn’t matter to them and she didn’t want to. No longer was she content either, to ignore snide remarks made against her, and her claws and fangs became ready to bear as she growled back.

She thought it was ironic, in a blood boiling way, how before she was too soft, but now she seemed too harsh, too prickly. The others avoided her now, not out of second hand embarrassment but out of a sort of discomfiting fear that the dog they’d beat might bite back now. She felt too big in her fur these days, felt as if she was always clenching her fangs against something- she didn't know what, just that it would be horrible to unleash.

Wasn’t she perfect now though? She thought with a snarl. Big and angry and ready to fight. 

(and Bargaining)

She didn’t need them to accept her though. She could just- run away. Start a new life.

This thought manifested in different ways, but quickly took a turn for unhealthy. To fantasize of a new life is okay, but not when you stray into the territory of ‘can i just die now so i can have a new life’. The thought turned into claws over skin, an increasing recklessness with herself, an always prickling sense of being prepared for a fight against her peers.

And then it happened. A heavy storm that her band was caught in, trekking back home after some field practice. Heavier than normal. Vet foolishly remarked this out loud, and instantly remembered herself as another scoffed. “Scared of a little water?” was the sneered reply.

Vet felt her fur grow hot, start to bristle at the shoulders. Felt that ugly something rear up in her, ready to bite. And just as she opened her mouth, a flash of lightning blinded her. In the receding bright and boom of thunder, they all stared in shocked awe as a large portal opened in front of them.

Instantly her band began to bicker about what to do. Vet felt her anger fade as she considered. “We should go back and tell the others, see what they want to do about this.” It seemed sensible to her, what were they gonna do, step through it? Nothing else to do but find someone who could at least take a proper look.

Except- to her band- it translated into cowardice, a want to leave the situation and have someone else handle it. “You would say that! Hah! Why dont you just run along for us, we’ll stay here and do the hard work.” And suddenly the anger was back and boiling up and finally, Vetrius could no longer bared it. 

It radiated off her, heavy and palpable, and even the storm seemed to quiet as everyone hushed and stared at her, waiting for the wave to crest. Her clenched fists trembled, blood mixing with the rain where her claws dug into her own skin.

She thought about turning around. Though about ripping into every single one, fighting until they had no choice but to admit that she was Strong, Stronger than them even. Distantly, breathlessly, and almost furiously disappointed in herself for it, she knew that she wasn’t going to do that.

Instead, she took a deep breath, and stepped through the portal. She would have a new life, one way or another.

Depression

The mists were unlike anything Vetrius had ever thought to expect. They were...ineffable, indescribable, in a way that sometimes struck an odd chord of nostalgia within her.

They were dangerous too, she quickly learned. When she first stepped into the mists from the portal, still  dripping with rain water as it snapped shut behind her, she’d felt only a numb angry sort of joy. She’d stuck it to them! Except...what now?

Time passed, or at least Vetrius thought it did. It was hard to tell, some areas seemed to lack any sort of sun or moon even. She could measure it only by her hunger, which stopped being effective as she slowly began to starve, the small meals she was able to catch not quite enough.

Often she could feel the weight of a gaze on her, or would snap her head around looking for the source of an imagine whisper. She must be going crazy. She must be dying. The thought came almost as a relief to her. Or...she wanted it to be a relief, so she refused to admit that it wasn’t.

She struggled on and on and on. The worse her shape became, the more she struggled, the more the panic within her started to rise. Her admittance was just on the tip of her tongue but still she couldn’t let it out.

It was in the dead of night. She’d come across some berries and, starving, had eaten them. It was the wrong choice, she could feel her stomach rolling. By the time the cold sweat of fear had reached her, she knew it was too late, whatever she had eaten was undeniably poison and finally she was faced with the reality that she was going to die, possibly any moment.

Her limbs began to tingle, her vision growing hazy. She shook her head dizzily, trying to stay in focus. Her breaths came in harsh pants. And finally, FINALLY, her realization hit her in a bright burst of light.

(the upward turn)

She...she didn’t want to die! She could feel the thought fill her, breaking through the walls she’d built against her own self. She didn’t want to die, she wanted to live! She WANTED to live.

Her teeth creaked as she clenched them, heaving breaths through her nose desperately as she crumbled but suddenly unwilling to give up. 

But it was too late, wasn’t it? Her arms shook, her mouth watered sickeningly. And- and-

Her vision was growing bright, so bright! She could barely see through the blinding light now. She was supposed to stay AWAY from the light, right? She stumbled back, not realizing that her vision had suddenly cleared, her limbs quickly regaining control.

“Be not afraid.” The voice sounded amused, and comforting. Vet could taste a spring breeze, despite the dusty crumbling walls of some mist castle around her. The light started to recede, and finally Vet realized that she wasn’t going to die, actually.

She looked up at the being of light, and it caused a weird feeling to squirm through her.  Vet was kneeling, she realized, looking up at this angel (what else could it be?) with teary eyes. The Angel extended a hand down to her, the limb solidifying within the fluctuating light.

Unthinking, Vet blinked away her tears as she reached up, took the hand, and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet.

Reconstruction 

“You want to leave this place.” Hearing Angel’s voice wasn’t always a common thing. Even now that they had learned some of their bond, Angel usually spoke through impressions of emotions or flashes of images in Vet’s mind.

Vet faltered. Much time had passed now, Vet was positive. She wasn’t a cub anymore. After Angel saved her, the two had just seemed to be entwined. Their bond wasn’t an instant thing after that, but it grew quickly as Angel followed and watched over Vet. The two grew together, and it was...nice, despite it all, Vet thought at least. She’d had a lot of growing to do, she’d realized.

Vet hadn’t had a home in a long time, but this place still wasn’t it. If Angel had asked before now, the fear of facing reality might have driven Vet to deny the statement, but intuitive as their connection was now she must have sensed that Vet was ready  to face these issues.

Acceptance and Hope

Vet didn’t vocally accept, but Angel’s presence brightened at the responding emotion of agreement and acceptance reflected from Vetrius. And excitement, even. 

A part of Vetrius felt terrified, as Angel steered her towards a portal that would spit her back out into Tyria after so long. But it was overpowered by the thrill of hope running through her.

She’d gone through so much, but she’d also learned so much. She was ready to accept the pain she’d been through: in her childhood, in the mists, the pain she may yet be to face. As long as she keeps growing, she’ll be okay. 

[saint-patrice]

Tbh I would like to have the 34 *other* Bergy pics on your shortlist, complete with commentary lolol. And then (if you’re still waiting that is) any other Marchy pics with commentary? xD xD

oh my godddd you are my favourite person anon - ask and ye shall receive 😎 i should maybe warn that while this doesn’t have actual nsfw content you probably wouldn’t want to read this to your kids as a bedtime story. anyway, here we go: 

this was very close to making the original list. i like the soft lighting and the kind of floofy hair, yet he still looks like he could absolutely fuck me up (both like in a fight and various other ways). this photo gets me thinking some thoughts ™ if i am being honest

a literal saint and god amongst men right here. his brown eyes are so soft and his little smile puts me at ease. this is a man who would treat me right (fact). this photo is also from quite deep into the playoffs so the beard is going a little wild, and whilst i’m glad it isn’t like this all of the time, i very much appreciate it when it’s around.

O CAP’N MY CAP’N (sorry zee). nah for real this exudes some real sexy alternate energy. if i were on the opposing team and i saw this formidable man just skating around looking like that i think i’d just go back down the tunnel and hide in the locker room. this man will fucking kneecap you for the sake of a goal if that’s what it takes. and then i remember that it’s patrice and he’s the nicest man alive and he would literally never, but that’s still the energy this image has. and i ain’t saying i don’t like it.

okay this is just cute. they look like 2 dads who aren’t entirely sure how to take a selfie but are willing to try. the outfits lend this a slightly chaotic energy - i can’t commend zee’s colour combo if i’m honest, and when juxtaposed with the plaid shirt it kind of hurts my head. but it adds to the dad energy so i still love it. also this is from chara’s ig and the caption is super sweet.

DADS WITH THEIR KIDS ALWAYS GETS ME. i don’t even want kids, nor do i particularly like them, but seeing a man with his child is the cutest thing in the world and this, predictably, is no exception. patrice’s son 100% has his eyes which is really cute. speaking of patrice’s eyes, he may be smiling here but if you look into his eyes all you will see is fear - that child does not appear too bothered about remaining upright on the ice, and i suspect thay bergy is concerned about this. it would be criminal for me to not comment on the jeans. bergy has some exceptional thighs as these jeans do an excellent job of highlighting that.

this is Hot, and i’m not accepting criticism on that opinion. the crisp white shirt w no jacket or tie, and the top buttons undone???? i need a lie down. the hands are also making a nice appearance which i can always appreciate. basically what i’m saying is that i’m jealous of that snake this is an excellent photo and i owe the bruins instagram person a drink for posting it.

do you remember when i said bergy had marvellous thighs? well take a fucking sip babes - they’re like tree trunks carved out of carrara marble. if i have to die i want it to be because they crushed my skull. this is also one of the clearest photos i’ve seen of his tattoo, so it has that going for it too ( sidenote if anyone has an image with literally a pixel of his tattoo pls send it my way, i’m getting desperate at this point). i also think men in jewellery is a good look so i’m digging his beaded bracelets and silver chain. fantastic picture all round.

yeah okay there’s no escaping that the main reason this one made the list is 🍑. it’s exquisite. those pants also do a great job on the thighs too. the hair, socked feet (no i dont have a fetish i just think ppl in their socks with no shoes is kind of funny), and hands get an honourable mention

is this the only picture that has ever mattered? i’d believe it. patrice just lovingly gazing down at his son giving his hockey husband a handshake? you just can’t beat it. i have also been emotionally ruined by that tiny #37 jersey oh my

in the interest of being polite, i will describe this look as rugged. he has probably objectively looked better but i just like this photo and awful lot.

i don’t think i can give any commentary on this without saying something genuinely not suitable for public eyes. the 2 things i will say are: the only thing keeping me going completely feral horny looking at this is those pants,, if they were black or navy i’d be dead; and patrice i am begging you to do up a few more buttons on your shirt or remove it completely or i’m not going to live much longer.

oh man i just love this??? i can’t even explain why. the lack of much beard and the expression in his eyes just makes him look massively soft - i would give him a kiss on the nose and a cuddle in this photo

(gif via @gaudreau) i am slightly loathe to admit this bc it sounds weird but cuts and bruises can sometimes be a real look so this checks that box for me. his smile when he talks truly is one of the finer things in life too. also the lil shrug. i love you mr pikachu

a** fantastic **angle. this is just prime beautiful bergy.  excellent level of beard imo, the lighting shows off his v nice bone structure, and the nose is looking fab as always. weird observation of the day is that his neck looks nice in this

i mean obviously this had to go in - lord knows it’s fucking iconic. i have so many questions about how this situation came to be (aside from the fact that alcohol was involved. did brad initiate it? or patrice? why are they spinning? what the fuck? how the fuck? why was i not invited?) but anyway, this photo increased my thirst for a shirtless bergy photo at least two-hundredfold. at this point it’s a need not a want. i don’t think i can continue to comment on this without straying into nsfw territory so we’ll leave it at that. oh the things i would do

classic humble patrice making an appearance here, reminding us that he is not only the most handsome bastard to ever walk planet earth, but he’s a great guy too. just can’t hate him. and boy is he handsome in this gif. excellent stubble (im really invested in his facial hair if you hadn’t noticed), and the smile that could melt even my cold heart on display here. also bonus points for the previously mentioned thing about cuts/bruises. (sorry). i love this one 

in contrast to some of the prior ones, this picture is so cute that i can make nothing but pg comments about it. this is exactly the same face we all make when someone points a camera at us and says “cheese!” and i love that. the man looks good in white. good, wholesome content right here.

(gif via @weekendatbergysblog) okay the baby is cute but the fucking headband is what gets me in this. i’m able to make no further comment because this short circuits my brain.

(gif via @davidpastrnut)when i first saw this gif i had to go find the source video because i didn’t believe he actually said that but i’m here to tell you: he did. i love these hockey husbands so much. also i saw this tagged as “# hot waiter” one time and i still haven’t got over how accurate that is. someone more talented than me, i’m begging you for that fucking au 

(gif via @gaudreau) can patrice please stop looking up ??? it’s unfair that someone can look so good just looking in a direction what the fucK. he’s so stunning.

i love this one. brad pulling his hoodie down like that looks like he’s... soliciting and honestly who could blame him. bergy looks very cute, if a bit edgy in the all black. the hand is a treat in this one hooooooooooooooooo yes

this one show’s off patrice’s dark features very well. it’s amazing how he has such dark hair, dark eyes, big dark eyebrows, and dark facial hair, yet it doesn’t overcrowd or shadow his face ( except occasionally in awful lighting) ??? does anyone actually know how that works?? he’s looking very pensive here, and that hoodie looks oh-so-cosy. absolutely would cuddle.

**how cute is this y’all. **in case you thought you were just missing something, no, patrice is not sitting on a chair. he’s just maintaining that deep squat like a champ. maybe that’s the secret to his sublime thighs... the navy/deep red is an excellent look on him, and we get a rare glimpse of bergy with his wedding ring, which i find to be oddly cute. bonus points for him being beside a very cute kid too :)

(gif via @jakedebrask) this, i, ummmmm. i- uhh. just. um. yeah. so like. uhhhh... swiftly moving on

(gif via @davidpastrnut) this motherfucker and his handsome fucking face even looks good in that god-awful wooly patriots hat. honestly it looks like he’s about to go out and have a snowball fight (presumably with brad). decidedly rather domestic and i love it

(gif via @davidpastrnut) intense media patrice is intense. this is such a classic bergy face though, i love it. every time some media person asks him some big long question he puts on this exact very-invested-and-slightly-concerned face, its iconic. looking cosy in a hoodie once again. stop it. 

nice polo, dude

(gif via @davidpastrnut) that tshirt looks like its fighting for its life to contain those biceps. a dark, brooding patrice that has some sort of slow burn au stirring deep in my mind. from other angles in this interview the tattoo is fairly visible also.

this has such a strong energy it almost knocked me off my feet. again, i can see this being some sort of business or maybe criminal masterminds au. but fuck me, does that man looking something beautiful in a suit. the one hand in the pocket is quite frankly BDE too. i’m glad i’m not into dadkes or esle i think this whole picture would be too much for me.

he is literally the kind of man you’d want to bring home to your parents. i’m glad he seems to have cashed in on the navy/deep red combo because it really does suit him. he looks so fucking dapper here i may be very much in love

another excellent on-ice shot of him, albeit his slightly concerned expression. the beard is looking fucking crisp here hello sir. not much else to say on this, just a handsome, handsome boy.

(gif via @jeffsamardzija) another one that gives me Thoughts. he’s literally so beautiful. hair is cut a little shorter than usual on the sides and on anyone else it would scream fuckboy but i’m kind of digging it on bergy, at least on this one occasion. if i say anything else we’ll go down the rabbit hole

oof this is_ intense. _bergy aside, this is just an incredible shot tbh. rare that we get to see mr perfect not completely level-headed and playing it cool so it feels like a treat when we do. lowkey hot ngl

last but very certainly not least, mr patrice bergeron, four-time bergeron award winner, holding the award itself. this photo honestly just makes my heart swell a little with pride - it’s what he deserves!!!! just absolutely dapper in a beautiful suit as always, and a smile that could topple a nation to round it all off.

thank you so much for this anon!!! it was rather self-indulgent but i hope you like it :) also i will absolutely do another one with marchy, although my nails have been dry for about 2 hours now so i’ll probably do it tomorrow or friday, but it’s on its way :)

[justaramblingromantic]

fail better

Characters/Pairing: Kobayashi Rindou and Tsukasa Eishi/EiRin

Type: Canon-divergent AU, Post-series, Peerless-verse, Freestyle

Word Count: 2277

A/N #01: Ever read something so stupid that at the end of it all, you can almost literally feel the double negative ‘dislike’ interaction sign from The Sims forming right over your head? That was exactly my feeling after I read the nonsense that was chapter 296. Actually, my feeling was so strong it singlehandedly fueled my motivation to write this piece in one sitting, haha. What the effing heck, Tsukuda. 

A/N #02: Title derived by Samuel Beckett’s quote: “Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.”

xXxXxXxXxX

Hours after the conclusion of his round of the tournament, he was back in the still quiet of his hotel room, staring down at the empty text screen of his phone, wondering what to write to properly convey his conflicted feelings at the moment. He found himself stuck for the longest time, because the other person who had all but wrung a promise out of him for consistent updates of his progress would not appreciate it in the least if he was insincere or dishonest with her and, most importantly, himself.

And she would know intrinsically too, much to his chagrin.

He did not have to struggle futilely for the whole night, because as if aware of his mounting difficulties…or perhaps just plain exasperated with his indecisive dithering, the smart device in his hand vibrated impatiently with an incoming call, and the name that popped up on his Caller ID was both a comforting and sobering sight at the same time.

He picked up, of course. After a brief, hesitating pause. Mentally steeling himself, because it was…difficult not to be swept away by that surge of self-critical disappointment all over again.  

“…Hello.”

“Yo.”

In hindsight, he did not know what he was even feeling so anxious about. Just hearing that one word, just hearing that familiar voice filtered through the speaker from the other end, already possessed the miraculous effect of easing the stiff tension that had grown unbidden between his shoulders, bearing down on him like a heavy weight that entire day. He sighed her name.

“Rindou.”

There was some crinkling to be heard in ambient surroundings, as if she was snacking on something while on the phone with him at the same time. That casual familiarity soothed his nerves, because it was just like her to be so relaxed and comfortable around him. Before the conversation could lull and grow tense and awkward, she nonchalantly continued.

“I heard you got your ass handed to you today, Tsukasa~” his impish best friend all but singsonged.

Instead of feeling sorry and regretful over his loss, the woman actually sounded indecently gleeful instead. Even if he wanted to, it was hard to remain down in the doldrums when she was like this. He grew exasperated, remembering that sometimes she was the kind who liked to poke at people’s bruises, just to hear them yell.

“…You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” he deadpanned.

“Why should I?” she retorted between munches. “D’ya know how many texts I got this afternoon alone reporting your defeat to that Saiha dude? I practically received multiple blow-by-blow accounts, and they sent videos too; at least five different viewing angles of you getting your ass handed to you-”

Now, he was just plain mortified, never mind feeling sorry for himself.  

“What. Who texted you?” he demanded to know, flustered that she had to learn about it from other people instead of straight from him. His cheeks warmed in pique. “Why are people texting you anyway to tell you those things.”

“Yeah, I wonder why,” she replied in a tone that implied she didn’t even have to wonder at all. Their closeness wasn’t exactly a big secret to those who knew them in Tootsuki.

“Where are you now, anyway?” she changed the subject blithely. “Moping about in your room?”

“I’m not moping,” he spluttered in denial. Sure, he was feeling a bit morose and out of sorts, but that was because there was nothing to do since he no longer had to prepare for the next stage of the competition! Furthermore and strangely enough, his defeat today had not felt as crushingly overwhelming as that time in the aftermath of the Regiment Shokugeki. And more importantly- “Next time, wait patiently for my texts instead of listening to the gossips of other people.”

“Then text me quicker next time-”

A knock on the door had him distracted, and he got up to answer it, phone still cradled to his ear.

“-I thought you got so depressed you decided to commit seppuku with that long-assed nail file of yours. Hola~!”

He opened the door…and there she was, standing at the entrance, her digitally modulated reply abruptly becoming clear and distinct in real time. She was bright eyed and smirking at him,  just so irrepressibly buoyant it was as if she was a ray of sunshine herself.

Eishi blinked owlishly in surprise. “You are…here.” He quickly snapped out of his brief stupor. “Wait. What are you doing here?”

She brushed past him to get into his room. “Ta-da~ I came to offer my bosom for you to cry on, of course!”

He shut the door and turned to her, a funny look crossing his face, still half in disbelief…because she was supposed to be in Barcelona right now.

She looked like she had just stepped off a flight, and she had come bearing consolation gifts, too. “Look what I bought on the way here!” She swiveled to him and raised the plastic bags that she was holding. “Fried chicken and cheap beer are the best things to fix a broken heart!”

“My heart is not broken,” he retorted, nonplussed by her shining enthusiasm to bring light to his dark and tortured soul. “And will you put those drinks away; we’re still underaged.”

“Boo; you’re so straitlaced! What’s a bit of underaged drinking gonna do? We’d be twenty in a year or so, anyway! Live a little!”

And then she promptly proceeded to make a mess in his otherwise previously tidy accommodation. Her sneakers were kicked haphazardly aside, she dumped her bag unceremoniously on the floor in the middle of the room, and with whirlwind efficacy, she soon had the food and drinks laid out on the dressing table. Popping a crispy piece of chicken, deep fried to golden brown perfection, into her mouth, she pulled out a chilled can of beer from the six pack, bought right off a nearby conbini, cracked it open, brought it right to her lips and drank deep. She exhaled gustily with happiness, eyes squeezed shut with contentment, a look of comical satisfaction flitting across her rosy face.  

“Hell yeah, this is the best~!”

The redhead popped open another can of beer, and she pushed it to him. “Don’t just stand there! Come join me, dummy.”

Eishi was reluctant at first, but as she handed him the choicest bits of chicken on a paper plate and then started to dig into her own share with zeal, he realized belatedly that he was hungry, too. How she miraculously knew that he hadn’t had dinner yet was a mystery; he had been preoccupied and had somehow forgotten all about eating in the process. He took refreshing sips of ice-cold beer in between succulent bites of crisp, precisely battered chicken; she was right, there was a certain epicurean pleasure to be had from this combination. His mind was already automatically deconstructing the dish, gauging the type of ingredients and their exact quantity, speculating on the various steps of preparation, how hot the temperature of the frying oil had to be-

She snorted at his distracted demeanor as they dawdled over the meal. “You’re such a nerd, I swear.”  

He snapped out of his thoughts to stare at her. She snickered.

“Feel better now?”

He continued to stare.

“Wanna walk me through how your bout went?” Her golden eyes gleamed. “Or maybe I should tell you how I think it went as related to me by my secret sources?”

“No, thank you-”

He obligingly spilled, not wanting to hear of the embarrassing accounts as witnessed by whoever had spied on him for her. Besides, she was someone who actually appreciated the finer nuances of his cooking style and methodology, even when others would have been bored to tears by all that incredibly dry, technical talk. She paid rapt attention, her eyes trained unwaveringly on him as he spoke about the dish he came up with, and objectively as well of the one that had eventually defeated him.

Rindou was intrigued.

“Huh. Sounds like you had quite a bit of fun out there.”

International competitions like The Blue were really on another level altogether. She also wondered how they were able to dredge up so much crazy every year just to stuff into one event.  

“I wouldn’t exactly call it ‘fun,’” Eishi muttered under his breath.

There was an annoying soreness just lying under the skin and muscles of his chest, growing more and more aggravating as time passed after that battle with Saiba Asahi, and downright impossible to ignore however he tried. It was a gripping feeling that he had not experienced in quite a long time. It felt like a muted rage, a festering, humiliating wound in his heart that had been dealt by the hand of his opponent.

“He claimed my knife in light of my loss,” he finally admitted his shame.

It was now or never, and he refused to lie. Not to her. Never, to her.

For one moment, the air around her stilled.

And then her eyes glowed bright with fury.

For all that some people always said of his selfishness and arrogance, even he had never stooped so low as to steal the precious knives of another chef, their livelihood, the very source of their pride. Everything that he had, he had painstakingly squeezed out of his own talents, refusing to rely or even lean on the abilities of others, because there was simply no honor or pride to be had for that kind of tainted victory. But such distasteful practice was not entirely unheard of, nor was it illegal or wrong. Life in the kitchen could be cutthroat and fast paced where all sorts of characters lurked; those who could not take the heat simply had no place there, regardless of how good or skilled they were.

Then again, Tsukasa had never been the kind to break easily.

“What an unpleasant punk,” Rindou uttered flatly, stiffly.

He said nothing to that, but somehow, he felt lighter, because here she was, absolutely furious on his behalf.

“Which blade did he take?”

He knew she was going to laugh. “…The one…you nicknamed ‘the long-assed nail file,’” he responded slowly, after a reluctant pause.

He was absolutely right; she snort-giggled into her beer. That heavy tension in the atmosphere promptly dissolved, and miraculously along with it, his paralyzing sense of disgrace. “Pffft. Of all the- That one?? Eh, I s’pose there’s really no accounting for taste, is there?”

Eishi sent her a disgruntled look, visibly put out by her reaction. “Enough, you. I actually liked that blade.”  

She relaxed at his mild censure. He was calmer now, less tense, less brittle. In turn, that pleased her, too. She took another sip of her beer, already on her second can.

“So make an even better one, then. In the first place, you haven’t even fully developed that technique yet with how recently you came up with it,” she pointed out.

He drank to that, too. “I intend to.” There was a firmness in his quiet reply, an unshakable resolve that hardened his usually distant, lavender gaze, as he retreated to a place within himself that would not allow him to give up until he had achieved what he sought to.

She eyed him silently over the rim of her drink. That look of relentless, dogged determination was something that she hadn’t seen on him for a long time.

“…You really are having fun with this,” she observed once more with insistence, her lips twitching up in a delighted smile.

“It’s not fun,” he promptly corrected her. “It’s…frustrating.”

“But at least it’s not boring anymore, right?” She nudged him knowingly. He sighed and looked down at her plainly amused expression. She wasn’t going to give up until he admitted it, was she? He really did not know how she did it; there was not one word of consolation offered over his defeat, but still she made him feel so much better, all the same.

“…No. It’s not boring anymore,” he acknowledged. He was simmering, seething quietly beneath that deceptively calm, tranquil façade of his. “I actually feel…quite displeased,” he admitted, frowning slightly and looking quite out of sorts with himself.

She snorted, once again, at the understatement. He was really terrible at expressing anger. She reached up and petted his head for trying his best, all the same. “There, there. Let it all out. You want Rindou onee-chan to give you a hug too? Not to blow my own trumpet, but my hugs are seriously the best.”

He stared at her shamelessly bragging. Or maybe not, since he knew from experience that her hugs were seriously the best indeed, as advertised.

“Okay,” he agreed readily to her half joking offer. Perhaps it was the beer that relaxed his inhibitions, for he briefly studied her where she was sitting beside him, and then, without hesitation, he reached out, grabbed her around her middle, and half tugged, half lifted her onto his lap. She paused in surprise at his spontaneity, but before anything else could be said, he folded his arms around her and gently nested her against himself. He pressed his face into crimson fragrance of her hair and inhaled, sighing at her warmth and softness.

“…I’m glad you came,” he told her truthfully. It made him feel sleepy too, tension dissipating, and weariness rushing to the forefront in the face of this simple, reassuring contentment that was Rindou.  

Her gaze softened. Her arms curled lazily around him in return, and she snuggled up to her best friend.

“Mm. You worked hard today, Tsukasa. Well done-”

xXxXxXxXxX

[uarcana]

Home Sweet Home Pt. IV

An exhausted sigh floated from Aizawa’s lips as he planted himself upon the small dock behind the farmhouse.

The fact that his muscles ached even a little was slightly embarrassing.

Somehow pro hero work seemed a lot easier than harvesting 375 peaches followed by 4 hours of fishing.

Thankfully, Aoi knew this and planned ahead. A nice hot bath was exactly what he needed for his soreness and to cure the uncomfortable sensation of the sticky sweat that had engulfed his body.

“Feel better?”, Aoi lightly chuckled as she lowered an iced cold bottle of brew beside his face.

“Yeah...”, the man replied with a soft smile. “Thanks”.

“Don’t sweat it”, Aoi replied, taking her seat beside him, her exposed toes just barely grazing the still waters below.

The moonlight dancing upon its surface illuminating her delicate pale flesh.

“Gotta say”, Aoi suddenly spoke up, taking a light swig of her beer, “you bagged a pretty nice haul”, the woman smiled as she gestured toward the plethora of fish set on the other side of Aizawa.

“I’m impressed”.

“Well, I can guarantee if I was on my own, I probably would’ve brought in a lot less”, the man modestly claimed.

“You’re probably right”, the woman joked with a smirk, “but I’ll let you have this one, anyway”.

A light chuckle erupted from the man’s throat as he finally took a swig of his drink.

Further ahead toward the horizon, Shota spotted a pair of koi leaping from the waters in rhythmic formation. 

Neither of them missing a beat.

“Remember when I used to hate you?”

Aizawa rose his attention toward the woman whom was marveling in the same view.

“You never could’ve asked me to work with you like that”, she chuckled as she took another sip of her drink.

“Hm...yeah”, the man smirked lightly as he returned his attention to the water. “You were a real piece of work...”.

“I do my best”, the woman joked with a smile.

“Why was that, anyway?”

“I don’t even remember”, the woman shrugged. “Some stupid teenage angst or something...you lose a lot of useless memories after 14 years”.

“Guess so...”, Aizawa replied taking another swig of his beverage.

Glancing upward toward the billions of stars that speckled the moonlit sky.

“I gotta say though...”, Shota softly sighed, “certainly can’t forget this view...”.

“You definitely don’t get this in Musu”, Aoi added.

“Honestly, with how things have been going, I’ve been too busy to notice”.

“Hm”, the woman lightly chuckled, “sounds like you need a vacation, Eraser”.

“That’s putting it mildly...”, the man sighed in light frustration, “...but it wouldn’t be rational for me to take one so soon. Not with everything that’s happened...”.

“So...business as usual, huh?”

“Until we get a handle on this uprising villain issue, it seems that way”.

“Well”, Aoi’s tone softened as her grip upon the chilly bottle tightened, “...maybe next time you visit...it won’t have to be for business”.

Shota’s heart pulsed upon her words.

As he shifted his gaze to her delicately firm build, he could sense a foreign vulnerability replacing her usual aura.

It was lighter.

Much more...vibrant.

And it deemed itself all the more familiar...

The more he took in the view of her porcelain flesh innocently seeping out of the collar of her loose knit dress, the more he reminisced on its taste...it’s silky texture.

This moment reminded him of the past.

Of how she used to give herself to him.

Aoi could feel his black gaze burning into her. She feared to look herself...but it beckoned her.

Lowering her crystal spheres to meet the men beside her, she nearly swooned at the intense electric rush that surged within her.

Shota was like a wolf that hadn’t been fed in years...

10 to be exact.

So much of who she was back then had fleeted...but it never changed how she felt...

How much she loved him.

Aoi knew what he felt...but...in her years of isolation and Shota’s stubbornness toward expressing this, she had somewhat forgotten.

Did it mean enough to him to take this chance?

Or was it still all business...?

“Well...”, the man started, downing the remainder of his drink, “I think we should call it a night...”.

Aoi felt a light crack in her ear as the man rose to his feet...her chest weighing heavy.

With his back turned toward her, his hands shoved into his pockets, he couldn’t see the woman fighting back the tears that were uncontrollably filling her eyes.

“Big day tomorrow...”, he stated with a heavy sigh, “...can’t afford any distractions”.

“Y-Yeah...”, Aoi nodded to herself as the man trudged toward the guest lodge.

His pocketed fists tightening in agony as he left the broken woman on the wooden dock.

Once he disappeared from sight, Aoi was able to find the strength to make her way back inside her house.

After haphazardly dropped the empty beer bottles into the trash, she grabbed an empty class from her cabinet, filling it to the brim with straight vodka.

The all familiar sound of the liquid crashing against the glass awakening the once sleeping Sake, leaving her to watch her master helplessly as she lifted the glass above her head, light droplets slipping down the sides onto the floor.

“For business...as usual”, the woman sighed as she gulped down the bitter liquid. The harsh acidity scorching her throat.

Aoi all but heard Sake’s somber chirp as she poured another full glass of poison, once again raising it above her head.

“And one more just for kicks...”, she whispered to herself before downing contents of her glass, same as before.

Pure anguish burdened Shota’s soul as he watched in clear view from the lodge into Aoi’s open kitchen window.

In the state she’s in, she wouldn’t care that it was open...she wouldn’t care who saw...she just cared about the numbness that would take hold of her afterward...the numbness from everything in the world...

The only bright side was that this numbness would put her to sleep...and she would be safe...

...and it wasn’t until he saw the final light in her room go black, that he could finally find sleep.

Tagging: @digitalkanvas @insomniasix @glacian-apocalypse @nykamito-x @aquathemermaidstripper @a-new-recipehhh

If you would like to be tagged, let us know! Feedback is always welcome!

[simbar4lifelol]

A huge Soy Luna S3 rant lol

Im not complaining about simbar rn, they've been the best. But i honestly cant believe the show is gonna be over on friday. Like what even happened in s3?!?! I always payed more attention to my ship obviously lol but since they would only come out for like two minutes each episode, I have to admit i was bored out of my mind with everything else that was going on:/

The flow of the story was so odd and i cant help but feel like this story is incomplete now. I know several people have pointed out that the story was over s2 and i have to agree. The real plot ended in s2 and we had a s3 with no direction of what the show was going to be about next. It literally was just about boys and revenge.

Of Course a show could be just about that, but since this is disney the way it was all presented wasnt interesting enough, especially with how long they dragged everything with just that. They definitely did not know what to do with their secondary characters and they just came across(well at least to me) like a waste of space. All the characters could have done more. And i feel this is why s3 doesnt feel complete.

Luna had nothing going for her but thinking about relationships. So, since she is the protagonist no one else was allowed to do anything else. These characters had so much potential and this is where i get disappointed with how s3 turned out. When they would do something outside of relationships, for example skating or the open musics, absolutely nothing would happen afterwards. The characters werent further explored and they just never grew. When you would think they would do something different, they would just go back to exactly how they were before. Like when the girls formed their own group for about 3 episodes and then they just broke up. And nothing came from that but one performance.

Nothing happened with the roller band either. Didnt they have a bunch of fans?!?! Nico is not even missed because he didnt contribute anything. Nina only ever wrote something in her blog thingy to blackmail gary and she was just put together with erik for her to do something else aside from just asking luna who she likes the whole season. Jim and yam started off trying to figure out what to do after graduation but ended up in the shadow of what does luna need. Ramiro went to the red sharks then nothing. He leaves the red sharks, hes forgiven then nothing. Jazmin, oh jazmin we know nothing of her only that she loves creating content for social media. nothing else happened with her except her meeting that guy. Pelfi although cute they also didnt do much but react to either lutteo or simbar. Delfi's only arc was the fight with jazmin. It was pretty entertaining so points for them. But this is my point when theyre not revolving around luna they had great content.

The downfall of this season was the writers forgetting their other characters and just constantly repeating storylines with the main characters. And everyone else just reacting to them. All of season 3 was so predictable that my only joy was simbar lol They were the only ones not just reacting to lutteo. which is why they were a breath of fresh air. Individually, simon was just reacting to lutteo and ambar was just reacting to luna. But as simbar they had their own thing. They were trying to figure the other out with the new dynamic of ambar going full "rebel".

It was different and new and exciting. To see these characters tease each other and seeing the tension of wanting to be together but both being stubborn. Simon knowing damn well ambar was in a path of self destruction but still trying to find a way in. Ambar telling simon he needed to stop lying about his feelings for her. My only issue was when bembar became a thing. Those episodes were so messy that they actually made me less enthusiastic about simbar because i didnt get ambar, but i feel it was needed to make ambar finally snap out of it and officially leave that behind her. These past 15 episodes had ambar in her own arc as her best self not worrying about luna and thriving as a character because of that.

But of course i understand the show is called Soy Luna. I like luna. The first two seasons revolved around her being a happy girl with loving adoptive parents starting a new life away from home. She eventually gets curious about her origins and sets out to find out where she came from with the help of her best friends. While every other character did their own thing.

The problem came about when in s3 they didnt know what to do with their protagonist. The first 5 episodes were her feeling overwhelmed with finding out she's Sol Benson and remembering a bit of her past. But that's it after that shes okay. "She's the same luna except now she's rich." Thats the whole story. Oh and she has three love interests. Oh and shes gonna bring the jam&roller team together but no one gets to shine except her and all the opportunities will go to her only. They're gonna have rivals and theyre just gonna go back and forth forever without any consequences till episode 40. The open music will have cool singing and dancing numbers and they will serve no purpose but to fill in things in the episodes except episode 10 when luna will confess her feelings for simon but jk nevermind she doesnt. Nothing ever changes.

The main focus was her love life and honestly that could have worked if it wasnt the exact same formula as season 2 with matteo. The hot and cold relationship yes no yes no. Ugh i dont understand how lutteo fans have survived for so long. I wish they had given her something more to stand for. A different character arc that wasnt just about her and matteo. Because thats what the whole season has been about. Everyone else are just there getting 1 or 2 episode arcs that really don't matter because everything will go back to normal. Simbar was lucky to get a continuous arc however they only got one or two scenes per episode and that was the highlight. Soy luna comes to an end in two episodes. And this whole week has everything revolving around luna and matteo realizing their dreams in the last 5 episodes. Just them. Jk we still have two episodes and im sure theyll show the rest "realizing their dream too" but i just cant believe they made 60 episodes of nothing.

The adults took up a lot of screentime in a storyline that just sucks. The only thing sharon's been good for is to give luna nightmares. Again everything has only been a huge plot device for luna and things a lot of times felt forced.

Well all of this was my main issue with season 3 and i wanted to share my personal opinion. Im sorry this is so long. Season 3 had its great moments but as a whole was really disappointing. I hope no one takes offense to this and although im here complaining soy luna finishing is still bittersweet. You can love something but still recognize its flaws.

[moonchildhcs]

parkjin hcs

friends to lovers au

youve accumulated an interesting and lovely friend group over the years !!! from felix, your aussie meme supplier to persi, your chaotic fool ! 

but honestly? youre most grateful for your lovely (ahemboyahem)friend hyunjin !! bc honestly,,,

you two have been friends since diapers and have been together through thick and thin, from bad haircuts to weird crushes ! 

you guys binge watched random shows together, cried together, camped out for concerts together, and so much more !!

he always without fail, knows what to say or do to make you feel at least a bit better and to regain enough energy to get through your day no matter how bad its been going

hes always been a pillar of support, and even when you called him at 4am because you cant sleep and youre exhausted and sad he sings you back to sleep and talks you through whatevers got you buggin

and it means so very much to you because youve had the misfortune of meeting some nasty people in your life, and theyve come and gone but hyunjin has consistently been there for you ! a lovely friend and your #1 supporter

and the same applies to him ofc!!! when he cries because he doesnt know if he can pursue his dreams, when he stresses over examinations, when hes craving jack in the box at 2am youre right there with him (even if you might be tired oops)

and youre quite the romantic so sometimes you look at your friendship like There Is No Way Our Friendship Is Real ! but it IS and its marvelous !!!

but ,,, on the topic of you being quite the romantic,,, your heart gets the BIGGEST dokis when youre around him

like youre absolutely enamored with his passion, his dedication, his energy, just, everything about him has you head over heels !!

and it doesnt help that hes also just incredibly cute. but also he represents the duality of man and you just generally feel attacked on all fronts like he is Cute And Hot And TALENTED He Is The Whole Package

but like,, over your dead body youd let him know you have a massive crush on him

bc above all else hes been one of the few people consistently by your side and you dont know what you would do with yourself if you somehow messed it up? but little do you know hyunjins thinking the exact same thing

but anyways

you and the gang go camping !!! it is summer break so it is warm and nice and although there are bugs you also dont have to worry about a storm carrying off with your tents

however,,, a miscalculation has occurred bc persi was initially VERY against going camping so bang chan only brought ten tents but ultimately they came after much convincing from minhos end

so,,, someone is either going without a tent or two people are sharing

and there was a Lot of discourse going on about who would be sacrificing their sleep to share a sleeping bag (incredibly close and pretty intimate) or sacrificing their sleep to the elements

however, seungmin was like :^) how about the last people who are awake can decide if theyll share or if one of them goes without the sleeping bag ! and everyone agrees

but you,, stay silent,,, because you notoriously stay up super late

“sleep is for the weak”

ah how your ideologies bite you in the ass now

first the youngest kids start to knock out like jeongin and jisung and felix and seungmin

and then bang chan and woojin who stayed up all night before producing and practicing singing, respectively

and then changbin, who was just rlly tired

and then minho and persi, who passed out after an Intense game of uno

which left you and hyunjin and youre internally freaking out bc even if you Insisted on sleeping ad facing the elements hyunjin is stubbornly nice and would make you take the sleeping bag

so you blurt out “do you want to just share the sleeping bag? its not much different to the sleepovers we had as kids”

and hyunjin looks calm and collected and goes “sure :^)” but internally hes SCREAMING in glee because hes exhausted but he Needed to stay up so it can play out the way he wanted it to which was : cuddle you

so you two separate to change into some pjs before slipping,, into the sleeping bag together

and it takes some shifting and adjusting but then !! hyunjin is big spoon and you are small spoon and you are so tense and awkward because HECKHECKHECK HES SO CLOSE

but then hyunjin kinda sleepily breathes against your neck

“relax”

and you just,,, turn into mush on the spot because thats so cute but incredibly attractive

and you two fall asleep, cuddling like that

and you wake up in the morning to bright lights and the sound,,, of people LAUGHING and you open your eyes to someones camera pointing directly at you

and as you wake up a bit more you realize,, that you and hyunjin shifted and you are lying down ON HIM, head tucked into his neck and his arms wrapped around your waist and you want to shriek

and then you feel hyunjin shift and you are MORTIFIED as he whispers a husky good morning and you zip zip that sleeping bag open, say a hushed good mornin before NYOOMING away from the hyunjin and your friends, currently crooning over the pictures of you and hyunjin cuddling on persi’s phone

you sneak into persis tent and change into some of their clothes because it Does Not Matter You Need To Yeet And Get Over The Embarassment

so you head down to the lake nearby and sit down on a log and just,,, repeat the scene of you looking up at hyunjin as youre laying on him, remembering the heat he radiated, the way he smelled, and youre like u//w//u but also :OOOO oh no youve got it bad

and you dont realize it but a few hours pass and everyone else is kinda like hm we might have made her mad lets give her some time to herself but hyunjin feels bad because what if youre upset at HIM poor baby

and so he goes down to the lake and he sits down next to you

“sorry if i made you uncomfortable. i know you said we should share the sleeping bag but i probably embarrassed you this morning”

and you,,, youre not only in love but also WHY IS HE BLAMING HIMSELF and you just,,, profess your love

and you just go on and on about how you really had a crush on him since you were tots and how hes just too nice and too sweet and his heart is too big for his chest and how he needs to look out for himself just as much as how he looks out for you but hes such a DUMMY for never realizing that youve had heart eyes for him this entire time

and youre just ranting about how uch you love him and you dont see the love in his eyes and so he shuts you up by giving you the sweetest kiss youve ever had in your LIFE

and hes like “i love you too angel :^)”

and you two walk back to camp, hand in hand, as persi SCREECHES and screams that theyll send you the photos that sparked this beautiful relationship

everyone is hollering but you and hyunjin just smile at each other, content

[ji-lixie]

Hey, its gonna be okay. There are lots of moments in life where our pasions just arent as intense as before or even disapear for a little while, but that doesnt mean you should feel bad/angered with your self over it. Try to give this a breake, focus on other things even if it is only a week or two, because the more you drawn onto this feeling the harder its gonna be on you.

Also, you dont need to apologise to people for following you, you are doing you best🌸💖

ive kinda left this one in my inbox all day bc i dont know what to really say to it, ig? like. obviously i want to start with the fact that i appreciate u took time out of ur day to say something nice to someone whos struggling bc it genuinely means a lot to me that u did that!!

idk take some ramblings of a struggling artist or w/e u wanna call me. 'depressed bitch' also works lmao

i guess i just... always feel like i'm not doing enough as a creator. like as a fan idc abt making content, but i like making things. i think just... stuff comes back around like darl+ing did, or like HOT did, and i just kinda watch everyone else make pretty much every single thing ever and i sit there and im like... well, what do i do? what can i do? everyone's always going to make things better than me to begin with.

it's not like drawing or writing where i'm the only person who can create a thing that way. its taking the exact same content as other people do and just... doing it, but always doing it worse because other people have done this enough times that it looks easy to them even though i know its not. some people probably have their stuff automated so that they can churn content out quickly.

i guess i'll always feel like... not good enough. and i think that's always where my passion dies out. and if i'm honest, i think i notice it the most in caratblr out of anything else. it always feels weirdly competitive. gif the mv first. make your sets for the new gose episode and get them posted as fast as you can but also make them look good. there's a new fancam? there will be gifsets already uploaded before you even view the first few seconds of it.

and it's not that i would ever ask another creator to slow down because if they're genuinely enjoying making their content then go for it? have fun? i just wish people consumed content better. if you aren't a "big name" then you aren't going to get notes. sometimes it feels like if you aren't a part of closed network that you aren't going to get anything either. or maybe people just... don't want to reblog things.

i don't know. i just notice it the most in caratblr compared to the other groups i made gifs for. i think that's honestly why i really prefer making content for groups like treasure or golcha? its just... more comfortable. i don't feel like i'm constantly competing with other people to produce something for them.

i make a gifset of hyunsuk and i feel at home with getting reblogs from my mutuals and seeing people be nice in the notes. i make that skz + red set and i see some ppl being super nice and calling it pretty/stunning or pointing out the way felix looks in one of the gifs.

which isnt to say caratblr isnt nice. i think abt the sweet tags i get usually from my mutuals, sometimes from ppl outside that circle, too. but idk, i just notice an imbalance more of reblogs to likes more often there. i compare myself to other creators who get hundreds of notes which is probably my own damn fault for comparing so much.

and i think that just... genuinely impacts my enjoyment of things. sometimes im like "oh maybe it'll be fun to gif the new mv haha" or something and then i remember oh, right, im not talented enough for that. other people are going to do it and do it better every single time so why should i try?

also lmao its just hard to be on tumblr in general when stuff like this happens. logic says "take a break for a few days" but i just... i dont want to. i like being here. i like interacting with my mutuals. i just know i'm going to sit there and feel fucking awful though if i try to scroll through my dash. and if i take a break for too long, then it feels like im falling even further behind. i already have to take a fucking extra semester to finish my schooling, i feel even more pathetic falling behind in a hobby that i actually like.

its stupid. sometimes i feel like i don't deserve to be here and to be a fan if i let so much stupid shit like that bother me. i know i don't have to create content to be a fan, but i just... i like doing it. its just hard to not lose all motivation again and wonder why i even bother being here and listening when i can't give them my all in return.

[dent-de-leon]

Keith (for character meme) cause I love it whenever you talk about him. ͡° ͜ʖ ͡ –

Why I like them: This honestly requires like, five entire essays on it’s own. Keith, to me, is an incredibly well developed, multifaceted character. I was drawn to him from the very first episode, from the moment I saw him charge the garrison eyes blazing, vindictive and vengeful–only for that fire to smother as soon as he laid eyes on Shiro, suddenly soft and vulnerable. From the moment he tried so hard to bond with his Lion. From the moment he said, “It was an honor flying with you boys.” I loved how he came across as harsh and cold to the others, but was so clearly struggling with his emotions and a very withdrawn, albeit passionate–compassionate–person. I love how gentle and nurturing he actually is by nature, how he’s incredibly protective with a fierce believe in fighting for good and defending others.

He’s someone who’s been burned by fate at every turn, who has no family to speak of, who lost his only friend and wondered out into the desert with nothing to lose. I found him incredibly relatable–with his fear of rejection, with how he pushed others away to avoid getting too close. With his passionate and vivid his emotions were, to the point of becoming overwhelmed and requiring a means to cope–“Patience yields focus.” Someone who was a bit touch averse yet still craved comfort–with Shiro especially he becomes particularly tactile. Someone with definitive personal loyalties even at the stake of the mission–see: every time he goes back on an objective in order to prioritize Shiro’s safety. I felt for those aspects of Keith acutely, and his character’s become very close to my heart ever since. 

Ostracized on Earth, only to feel isolated once again in space when he realizes he’s not so human. Someone unable to properly let his walls down and feels a very distinct disconnect from others, who struggled with control of his incredibly volatile emotions but so badly wanted to do “better” and regain control. Someone who so desperately wants to be “good,” who literally says, after finding out he too is galra–“But at the same time, couldn’t some of them be fighting for good?” Despite being logical and analytical, Keith is ultimately ruled by his heart and sense of morality, and it’s a very striking combination to me. That he’d do so much to save the universe that threw him away? It really resonates with me. 

Why I don’t: Antis claiming that Keith is a child and Shiro’s blood brother and also desperately longing after Lance since the garrison–despite, you know, not even knowing Lance’s name. The fact that those fans reduce him to such uncharacteristically base caricatures with little no regard for his feelings and agency. The fact that he’s supposedly “pretty” enough to be Lance’s prize and is little more than award to be given to Lance to show he’s finally “surpassed” Keith and become “superior” to him. The fact that anti’s k/l fanon dominates misinterpretation of him in fandom to the point where he’s completely unrecognizable. The fact that his relationship with Shiro is constantly trivialized, erased, reduced to “brothers” to avoid competition, or flat out edited out in favor of Lance because somehow that’s “better.” Despite, you know, Shiro being the only person that never abandoned Keith. I’m bothered by that same brand of fanon making Keith more promiscuous to suit k/l fanon while still claiming he’s apparently a child. 

Worst of all, I’m completely bothered by this same exact brand of fanon claiming they love Keith, but then hating him whenever he gets significant screen time, plot, background, or development that does not in any way shape or form serve either Lance or k/l. Because there’s this notion in fandom that Keith is meant to be seen and not heard, that he’s pretty and a pining hot mess for Lance and should step aside and let Lance lead in a heartbeat because he doesn’t deserve any narrative or agency beyond that. I’m sick of it. 

Favorite episode (scene if movie): Either Blade Of Marmora, Changing the Guard, Across the Universe, or Code of Honor. Yeah, I like a lot of Keith episodes–and sheith. It’s honestly really just too hard for me to pick at this point. Any episode that really explores Keith’s galra side and his bond with Shiro really speak to me. BOM especially really hit me, and had me tearing up a bit. Same with Changing the Guard. The latter and Code of Honor especially really instill you with this sense of hopelessness, this vivid fear that you can’t save everyone, that no matter how hard Keith tries he’ll keep losing the people close to him. It’s a detriment to his protective instincts, to this natural inclination to throw his own life on the line to shield everyone else. Keith’s such a caring, compassionate person. And it’s so heart wrenching when the narrative claws away at that weakness. 

Favorite season/movie: Season 2 had some prime Keith content, finally making tons of headway with Keith’s identity and backstory. Keith was badly in need of some development up until then–I still remember the show runners saying Keith had the least lines out of all of Team Voltron in season 1, even Coran. Keith’s motivations and background were a complete mystery, and it was so amazing to see those complex aspects of his character finally explored. Seeing how he connected to his galran side and had to learn to accept himself, to realize that things are never quite so black and white–I thought that was all a very interesting take on his character. Especially how resistant he is about eventually leading Voltron. And how that resistance stems from his very haunting fear of losing Shiro. 

But I mean, my heart also really felt for him in season 3. Again, I deeply relate to Keith, and seeing him go through those motions of grief, depressed and longing for this person he lost, trying his best to reach and reconnect, never losing faith–that hit me. Seeing Keith still believing in Shiro and refusing to move on, seeing him connect with Black as his last link to Shiro, watching him try to navigate his new room because of how strongly he believes in Voltron’s cause and Shiro’s last wishes. Seeing him have those grief-laden outbursts, still carrying a torch for Shiro when everyone told him to move on, relentlessly striving to save Shiro because he knew no one else would–it really hit me. Felt very viscerally real. 

Favorite line: Soooo many this is just…really incredibly difficult, oh man. Right now I’m very partial to, “As many times as it takes.” When he says it his voice is just so soft, so heartwarming and unabashed and reassuring, it’s just…the very intimately sweet moment where both his and Kuron’s feelings are laid bare. I love it. 

Favorite outfit: HIS BOM SUIT!! Both suits. But I’m really partial to new one right now cause I’m also loving the mask and hood :’) He looks so good I cry…really badly need the money and ability to cosplay that,, 

OTP: I literally don’t even need to describe this one because I’ve written like who knows how many fucking essays on it but,, sheith. Sheith. Sheith. Sheith. “Shiro and Keith have the closest relationship.” “His guiding light.” “Nothing was worth Shiro’s pain.” Take your pick. They’re in love and intimately connected throughout the narrative and they deserve each other, alright. Unconditional love and support at its finest.

Brotp: Mentioned here in Allura’s post, but Keith and Allura! 

Head Canon: Keith and Shiro used to go out on late ride into the dessert on the red hover bike. They’d stop by the old shack and take a look at the stars and just…stop and appreciate those quiet, precious moments together they have. 

Unpopular opinion: Keith has no romantic interest in Lance and k/l would not only make no sense for the character, it would detract from him. He’s also not an angry, irrational hothead, nor is he by any means dumb or cruel. He doesn’t enjoy clashing heads with Lance, as clearly evident from he’s the one who tries to patch things up first and it was Lance who projected his insecurities onto Keith and sparked a one-side rivalry with unwarranted hostility. 

A wish: When all is said and done, at the end, Keith and Shiro are still together. Whether it’s back at the old shack or stranded on the other side of the universe, no matter what, they still have each other. 

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: Canon k/l because it wouldn’t make any sense and I care about Keith’s feelings, character, and development–all of which would have to be ceded for Lance’s sake and I’d hate every minute of it. 

5 words to best describe them: Loyalty. Protective. Knight. Passionate. Driven.  

My nickname for them: Star Knight ^^ ✨ 

[artificialqueens]

your body as a museum of careless gestures (biadore) - dylann

A/N:

Adore’s impulsive, sure.

But she’s more “don’t sober up at all for 36 hours because you’re sad you can’t randomly drop your own responsibilities and fly out to Europe” impulsive than “actually fly out to Europe” impulsive.

(or

Bianca is vulnerable, homesickness is a real bitch, Europe is very far away and plane tickets are unreasonably priced. Also, old patterns are hard to break, especially when you don’t even want to break them.

A reunion fic, everyone. That’s what this is.

Drag names and she/her pronouns for both throughout most of this. Shoutout to Dare for some solid constructive criticism and noticing my missing paragraph breaks.

Content warnings for mentions of weed and alcohol; sex; minor breathplay)

They FaceTime once, in early August, while Bianca’s at an airport somewhere in Europe, and Adore’s shitfaced in Seattle.

She’s home after a local show, still in full makeup, but she’s pulled her wig off and her own hair is piled up at the top of her head in a messy approximation of a bun. Her phone keeps flashing on every couple of minutes, lighting up with various notifications.

Bianca liking a recent Instagram post, or the occasional tweet, or commenting on pictures they’re both tagged in. It’s the clear signs of someone who’s bored and in some sort of situation where they can’t do much besides fuck about on their phone.

Adore knows she shouldn’t text because— well, because she isn’t having the best night anyway, and while talking to Bianca might help at first, it’d probably fuck her up worse in the long run.

She’s stripped down to her underwear and the remnants of a practically destroyed Sex Pistols tank top when her phone buzzes again. It’s another Facebook comment, and she caves.

To Bea 🍹 (3:27:02am) how the fuck bored are you??

Bianca fires back a 😂 almost immediately, and then types a response. The three dots that indicate her thinking pop up a few times, until she settles on

To Adore 🔞 Delano (3:30:03am) Airport. Plane’s delayed.

(3:30:12am) cafe’s not even open, I hate Europe.

Adore mutters “No, you don’t,” to herself as she situates herself in the middle of her bed. Last night’s bowl is still half-packed at the sill of her open window, and she thanks past-Adore for being so considerate as she picks it up and takes a hit. 

And then she remembers Bianca can’t actually hear her.

To Bea 🍹 (3:31:45am) no you dont

(3:31:57am) can i call you???

To Adore 🔞 Delano (3:32:05am) 🙃👌🏼👌🏼👌🏼👌🏼

Adore props her phone on her nightstand, and tilts the small reading lamp so it hits her face from the right angle. She’s wearing very light sea green contacts, and she knows for a fact her eyes look stunning.

The connection takes a moment and then the black screen lights up to reveal Roy who looks like a parody of an airplane traveller. He’s clearly exhausted and bleary-eyed under the rim of his baseball cap, and he’s wearing a plush fuchsia pink travel pillow around his neck like a goddamn statement piece.

Adore lets out a delighted laugh, and then goes,

“You look horrible.”

“It’s good to see you too,” Roy laughs, giving his camera a long look. “Isn’t it, like, way past your bedtime?”

“Has anyone ever told you you use emoji like a thirteen year old girl with a secret Instagram account?” Adore fires back.

“Are you calling me old?” Roy asks, feigning offense well enough that it makes Adore break and she shoots the camera a shit-eating grin as she nods and lights up her bowl again.

“Call me old one more time and I’ll buy a house somewhere in central Europe, take up farming, and never fucking come back,” Roy threatens lightly.

“No one would miss you here,” Adore says, perhaps a second too late to be funny.

Roy doesn’t answer, which is fine. Adore is usually obsessed with filling silences, like it’s her personal responsibility to make sure everyone’s constantly entertained. Roy’s an exception.

They’ve been silent around each other enough that it hasn’t felt awkward in years. 

“How’s Europe?” she asks eventually.

“Fun. Loud. Really fucking hot,“ Roy shrugs. He reaches up and presses his thumb against the bridge of his nose before rubbing along the outline of his eye socket. It’s rare and unsettling to see him that quiet and clearly drained.

Adore smokes and watches him as she contemplates how okay it’d be to say what’s actually on her mind.

“Hey, Bea?” she says quietly, as she shifts to lie down on her stomach.

“Yeah?”

“You look really tired. But um— I hope you’re just tired? Europe’s not making you, like, sad, is it?” Adore trails off for a second and presses her eyes shut as she refocuses. “That’s dumb. I mean. A continent can’t make you sad, right? I don’t know—“

“I’m fine,” Roy says and his face lights up with a small, fond smile which makes him look more like himself. “How are you doing? You look—“

“Fucking wasted?” Adore supplies. She aims for a joke but it just kind of comes out tired and flat. Plus, selling Roy the whole act is kind of pointless. “Yeah. I had a weird night, I don’t know. The whole album thing is fucking stressing me out.”

“People are gonna love it,” Roy says quickly, earnestly. He seems more awake. “They’re gonna eat that shit up.”

“You’re supposed to say that ‘cause you love me,” Adore whines jokingly, but then he just shrugs and nods in agreement, which makes her soften. “Thanks. Honestly. It’s just so— people wanna hear the old shit, you know? And the new stuff’s so different, I just— what if they don’t wanna hear it?”

“They keep asking for the old stuff ‘cause they haven’t heard your new stuff,” Roy reasons. He’s holding his headphones’ microphone close to his lips and it sort of feels like he’s in the room and talking directly to her if she closes her eyes.

“You’re right. Thanks, Bea,” she sighs, and then bites her lip as she adds softly, “I miss you.”

“Come to Europe,” Roy laughs a little. He can always recognize when she’s on the brink of some sad spiral and can usually pull her right back out. Adore opens her eyes to watch him laugh at the camera.

It’s impossible not to smile back.

“Right, are you gonna fly me out?” she laughs, making a show of pursing her lips at the camera.

“You wish,” Roy grins, and then his eyes drift over to something out of frame. Some sort of airport announcement comes through the speaker of Adore’s phone, entirely too far away and jumbled to be understandable.

“Hey, listen, I gotta go,” Roy says. “I might finally get to make it to a plane.”

“Awesome, fly safe,” Adore nods, scrunching up her nose as she fights off a yawn.

“You get some rest,” Roy adds. “This was fun, let’s—“

“More often. Yeah. I’ll call you.”

Adore smiles, and they say their goodbyes and hang up.

And then they don’t talk again for weeks.

***

The morning after the last FaceTime call, Adore had woken up with a screenshot of her own bank account, and a bunch of screenshots of various potential flights on her phone. Looking at them (and maybe the hangover) had made her sick, and she’d deleted them with her eyes half closed.

Adore’s impulsive, sure.

But she’s more “don’t sober up at all for 36 hours because you’re sad you can’t randomly drop your own responsibilities and fly out to Europe” impulsive than “actually fly out to Europe” impulsive.

It’d been days, maybe weeks, after the call when an ad had popped up on her Instagram feed, quite aggressively advertising Bianca’s upcoming gig on Fire Island.

New York is, in comparison to central Europe, closer.

Closer, easier to get to, slightly more reasonable.

So Adore had called her manager and said she’d do that one interview she had scheduled over the phone, and that she was going to be out of town for a few days. Her manager wasn’t impressed, but it was just a weekend, and she’d already made up her mind.

She doesn’t really call or let anyone else know she’s going.

When she walks into the club, the security guard gives her and her ID a long, curious look, but other than that, it’s dark enough that no one really notices or pays attention to her.

She’s wearing a Bianca t-shirt she’s mercilessly cut up into a douchey tank top tucked into a short, faux leather mini skirt with an unnecessarily chunky zipper in the front. Underneath the tank top, she’s in a lacy black bandeau that only draws attention to the boy chest, which is the exact effect she’s aiming for. The tight fishnet covering her legs culminates in heeled combat boots. Her hair is long and black and just messy enough that from afar, she looks like she could be just another girl here for the show.

It’s great, and she feels kind of incognito, even though she’s not necessarily trying to hide. She’s just not here to put on a show, either.

When she gets a drink, the bartender shoots her a knowing grin and says this one’s on the house, she only smiles back and thanks him and doesn’t argue. There’s being lowkey, and then there’s just being plain stupid.

The club is already pretty full, and it’s crowded by the time Bianca takes the stage to host.

Adore doesn’t quite care for the actual event and she lets herself be distracted watching her even when she’s off to the side, and clearly not supposed to be pulling the focus.

It’s impossible for Bianca not to pull focus. In a bodycon dress that somehow manages to be both leopard and floral and still be incredible, she looks like every wet dream Adore’s ever had. Bianca’s focused and attentive, she watches each performance and laughs along, and her lips are so shiny, and her eyes are so bright, and Adore is so tempted to make her way over to the stage and pull her off now, like she can’t wait another minute.

But the reality is, she’s waited this long and now that she’s here, Adore wants to do this right. So she sits back, accepts a couple more drinks from the bartender, and lives out her groupie fantasy, screaming and howling with laugher as if she’s just there to prove she can be louder than everyone else in the club.

At the end of the show, Bianca performs a number and the crowd goes wild, and Adore wants to be cheering with them, except she’s transfixed, breathless as she watches Bianca in her element.

“It never fucking gets old,” Adore yells at the bartender once Bianca’s left the stage. Her ears are ringing.

“She’s great,” he agrees, sliding another refill across the bar for her.

“She’s the best,” Adore corrects. “Can you send her a large gin backstage? Tell her it’s from a fan who claims to know her.

The bartender laughs and fixes a drink, and Adore, who’s only human, watches the sway of his hips as he walks through an unmarked door behind the bar which presumably leads backstage.

When Bianca comes out (from a different door, off to the side), she scans the club past the faces of people who notice her and either try to flock to her, or take a few steps back in some sort of classical awe. She glances around with a look Adore has come to realize means she’s expecting to see an acquaintance who’s dropped her name in hopes for a drink and a catchup.

Then, Bianca notices her and her entire face shifts.

Adore watches her face go from a public, performative smile through shock, through defeat, all the way to blossoming into a genuine smile within a split second. Bianca mouths something in her direction and heads over, and Adore’s heart is pounding so hard in her chest that it makes her cough.

Then, Bianca’s in front of her and pulling her into a hug, and saying into her ear,

“You motherfucker.”

Adore laughs loudly, pulling back just enough to catch Bianca’s eyes and grin at her.

“You absolute motherfucker,” Bianca repeats. “You could’ve called—“

“I wanted to surprise you,” Adore shrugs, as if it’s that simple, and Bianca softens.

“Well, I am surprised,” she laughs. Her hands are still around Adore’s waist and she’s becoming more aware of that by the second. “But I left my drink in the dressing room so we’re gonna have to continue being surprised there.”

Adore just nods. She picks up her glass and follows Bianca through the crowd. When Bianca reaches back, she slips her hand in hers, and hopes the club is just dark and confusing enough that no one would see.

***

“I can’t believe you just pulled this shit,” Bianca says as they walk into the dressing room, which is cool and only illuminated by the lightbulbs that line the mirror.

She closes her eyes for a split second and Adore watches her stage poise and energy leave her body like air from a recently popped balloon.

“I wanted to see your face,” Adore shrugs, and squeezes her hand as she brings herself closer. “Plus, it’s been a while since I’ve watched you—“

“Tonight wasn’t that good,” Bianca says quietly. “It’s not even technically my show…“

Adore bites her lip, and takes a sip of her drink as she says,

“I wasn’t gonna push but— are you okay? I mean, you seem—“

“I’m okay,”

Bianca pulls her hand away from Adore’s and walks around to sit down on the makeup chair, her back turned to the room. Adore just kind of stands there, swallowing uneasily once they break contact. Bianca is never like this, and witnessing it is terrifying, and Adore’s chest is tight as she attempts to figure out how she’d help the most.

“I just feel like I’ve been away for so long, you know?” Bianca says suddenly. Her voice is barely audible over the dull, unrecognizable bass that filters through the walls. “I’m not even sure if I’m away from— This summer’s just going by so fast. I feel like I’m always catching up with people. Like, tonight, when I stepped out—“

“You looked fucking terrified,” Adore supplies. She’s taken one cautious step towards Bianca’s chair and is hovering there.

“‘cause I was,” Bianca agrees, and it comes out in a shaky laugh. “Fuck, Adore, I was so worried I was gonna have to sit down and have a chat with some local queen I haven’t seen in years and make it look like I’m having the time of my life, you know?”

“Yeah. I know.”

Years of sharing dressing rooms have taught Adore that usually, Bianca would be out of all of her drag by this point. Now, she’s just sitting there, her eyes distant as she looks into the mirror but not really at herself.

Adore sighs and walks the rest of the distance to the makeup table, planting herself directly behind the chair. She drapes her arms over Bianca’s shoulders and crosses her wrists at her chest. Bianca’s hand comes up to cover her wrist, pressing down just a little, as if she’s afraid Adore might pull back.

Bianca’s nails are a dark shade of greenish gold and they glitter as they catch the mirror light. Adore wants to tell her she’s never looked more beautiful.

“It just gets kinda lonely,” Bianca says, quiet enough that Adore isn’t sure if it’s for her at all. She doesn’t answer.

Instead, she moves her hand just a little underneath Bianca’s, so she can run her thumb along the side of Bianca’s hand. Bianca sighs and closes her eyes again. Her eyelashes cast long shadows down her cheeks.

Adore doesn’t move, just lets Bianca breathe and take in the physical weight of her presence, lets her be quiet until she seems a little bit more grounded. Adore can feel it under her arms when Bianca exhales a long breath and her shoulders relax.

“Well, I’m here now,” Adore says finally, quiet and intimate, and it feels like dipping one toe in cool water.

She hasn’t planned this far in advance, never knows quite where they stand when they’ve been away from each other for so long, only knows that she’s here, and she’s here for Bianca, in whatever capacity Bianca needs her to be.

“Yeah— motherfucker,” Bianca repeats softly, in an almost-laugh. “You’re here.”

Then, she makes the choice for Adore.

Bianca pushes the chair back and stands up, turning around to face Adore in one swift, decisive motion. Adore catches her eyes and when Bianca tilts her chin down in the slightest of nods, it’s enough.

Adore launches herself forward, resting a gentle hand at the curve of Bianca’s neck as she kisses her with all the intent of an innocent death row inmate who’s been granted one last wish. Bianca responds almost immediately, her hands coming to rest at the small of Adore’s back. Adore (who, again, is only human) rolls her hips into the touch, which gets a noise halfway between a groan and a laugh from Bianca. It sounds more like her than anything Adore’s heard from her so far tonight.

“Missed you,” Bianca whispers once she pulls back. Up close, her eyes are so incredibly bright.

“I’m here.”

“You are.”

They exchange reassurances in a terribly familiar rhythm, and something in Adore’s chest twists a little. It must show on her face because Bianca says “Shhh” even though she’s silent, and is then she’s kissing her again.

This one lasts longer. Bianca licks her way past Adore’s dark plum lips and all Adore can do is respond in small, breathless sounds as she drops one hand down to grip the table behind Bianca, essentially trapping Bianca between herself and the tabletop.

A bunch of lipsticks fall down and maybe something rolls off the table, and Adore lets out a careless laugh into Bianca’s mouth. Her world feels lighter than it has in months. She doesn’t want to think about it at all.

Bianca distracts her, luckily, as she drops her hands past her ass to brush her fingers under Adore’s skirt. Underneath the thin layer of fishnet, Adore’s — unsurprisingly — untucked and wearing the tiniest briefs which leave most of her ass bare. Upon making that discovery for herself, Bianca lets out a laugh which is both appreciation and utter defeat.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Adore Delano,” she hums, pulling back to draw in a very deep breath.

It’s overdramatic but earnest and Adore feels so fucking wanted.

“I dress to impress,” she says sweetly.

“Jesus,” Bianca whispers, and her exasperated smile reaches all the way to her eyes. “Shut up.”

Adore laughs loudly, and it comes from deep in her chest. This is easier than anything else she’s done in so long. She knows Bianca feels the exact same way because she’s still laughing as she kisses her again.

By the time Bianca pulls back again, Adore’s hard and dizzy and the only coherent thought in her head is a vague curiosity about whether the door to the dressing room locks.

“Where are you staying?” Bianca is asking quietly. The outline of her lipliner has blurred and her eyes are dark and bearing so much promise it makes Adore’s head spin.

She grins in response.

She has one bag — a way too expensive designer carryon — that she’d dropped at a friend’s apartment before explaining that no, she didn’t need a place to crash, just storage room, thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow.

She hadn’t bothered with a plan B.

“You bitch,” Bianca laughs fondly. “Yeah. Come on.”

***

Bianca’s hotel room is tiny and taken over almost entirely by the bed in the center. There’s a suitcase half-open in one corner. The lights are off, and the room is instead illuminated by the pale orange glow of street lamps filtering through the (truly hideous) cream tulle curtains.

Adore’s head is swimming. She lets herself fall back onto the mattress, laughing breathlessly as she props herself up on her elbows to look at Bianca who pauses a few steps away to kick off her heels.

“Hold on—“ Bianca starts, heading over to the small table in front of the mirror.

“No, no, no,” Adore says quickly. “No time. Come here—“

Bianca laughs as she stretches to pull the zipper of her own dress down.

“Fine. Just this, then,” she negotiates and Adore nods, and falls silent as she watches her strip and unclip her wig to pull it off.

It’s rare for Bianca to stay in drag when they hook up, but de-dragging takes too long, and Adore is too turned on to survive waiting for her any longer than she absolutely has to.

Plus,

“You look so fucking beautiful,” Adore whispers, lowering herself onto her back as Bianca crawls on top of her. She’s completely naked now and it’s purely instinct when Adore reaches for her cock. Bianca catches her wrist and pulls her hand away, her lips curving in an amused smirk.

“You’re so fucking impatient,” she says quietly and Adore responds with a low groan because Yeah, no shit, aren’t you?

“You’re right,” Bianca agrees, still smirking like some wicked demon of temptation from the depths of Hell when she comes down to catch Adore’s lips in a messy kiss. Adore’s all about hyperbole when it comes to Bianca.

And then Bianca’s grinding her hips down as she licks a hot stripe down the side of Adore’s neck, and literally nothing in Adore’s entire life has ever felt nearly as good.

“That’s cute,” Bianca comments, her lips almost brushing the thin strip of leather. Adore’s wearing a simple one-ring choker, and her face turns a deep shade of pink the second Bianca decides to acknowledge it.

“Told you,” she smirks, and manages to school her voice into an almost challenging singsong. “I dress to impress.”

“Stop talking,” Bianca replies lowly, hooking a finger through the ring to tug Adore up as she kisses her again. Adore’s eyes fall shut and she gasps helplessly into the kiss, and then all she can do is part her lips for Bianca’s tongue.

Adore’s tank top and the lacy bandeau are long gone. She’s still wearing the skirt, and tights, and briefs, and that’s three layers too many, and she’s so uncomfortably hard, and Bianca knows and is ignoring her because apparently, Bianca likes to torture people.

(Which is, on occasion, actually true. And welcomed. Just—)

“Bea,” Adore whines, actually whines, because this is unbearable. “Not right now, Jesus, please.”

“No?”

“No. Come on, I’m done waiting, fuck me now, please,” the last word comes out indignant, as if she’s only saying it to be polite but she doesn’t really want to. It works for Bianca, apparently, because she lets go of the choker and refocuses both of her hands’ attention to unzipping Adore’s skirt.

The zipper goes all the way down and the skirt comes undone.

“You thought this through,” Bianca hums, audibly entertained, and Adore drives her hips up in response because Hurry up, yeah I have, I want this, I’m ready, hurry up.

Bianca peels her tights and her underwear down her legs at the same time and brings them all the way down to her ankles but doesn’t take them off.

“I like the boots,” she explains, breath heavy and hot against the inside of Adore’s thigh. “We’re keeping them on.”

Adore feels filthy, like this part of it is somehow taboo, and her dick is already slick with precome against her stomach. She crosses her ankles and lets her knees fall open to the sides, and Bianca responds with an appreciative groan which makes her twitch.

Adore keeps her eyes closed as she listens to the distant sound of a plastic cap popping open, and then two lubed up fingers are pressing against her and she’s gone.

Bianca preps her quickly, efficiently, because any attempt she makes at slowing down is met by Adore with disjointed sounds of protest and helpless jerks of her hips.

“Now,” she moans eventually as she hovers with her hips pushed off the mattress, desperately trying to get more of Bianca. “Now, I’m ready, come on, fuck me now.”

A moment passes in which Bianca considers making her beg, just to get a rise out of her, but Adore is a picture of uncensored want with her messy hair spilling across the pillows, and her flushed dick, and the small crease in her forehead, and frankly, Bianca’s growing too impatient to tease.

Adore cries out loudly when Bianca pushes into her, sending stars flying behind her closed eyelids. Bianca’s propped a pillow under her hips and the angle is torturous and absolutely fucking perfect. Adore’s thighs shake with tension as Bianca thrusts all the way in, almost too slowly, letting Adore adjust to the sensation. It’s already so much, and yet not nearly enough.

Bianca moves experimentally and it draws a soft whimper from Adore. “Yeah— I’m ready, come on.”

And then, Bianca’s off. She grips Adore’s hips to tilt her up and picks up the pace as her nails dig half-moons into Adore’s ass. Adore is incoherent, meeting each thrust with small moans and broken, disconnected swearwords. Her lips are parted and swollen and glossy with spit, and Bianca stares in admiration for a moment before arching down to kiss her.

Bianca kisses like Adore’s darkest secret is hiding at the back of her mouth and there’s never going to be another way to get to it. It’s disorienting, like walking through darkness. Adore’s ears are ringing. Bianca pulls one hand away from her hips and a second later she’s tugging on Adore’s choker again. This time, she hooks her index finger under the strap and pinches it between the knuckle of her middle finger and her thumb. The leather digs into Adore’s throat and she feels it like fireworks at the back of her skull.

Bianca keeps her lips just out of reach as she tightens her grip on the choker, and it drives Adore to  crane her neck, desperately chasing after a kiss she can’t quite reach. The leather digs into her neck and she coughs right as Bianca thrusts her cock deeper inside of her, at a slightly different angle which makes Adore want to scream.

The sound that comes out is closer to a strangled whine, and Bianca meets it with a low laugh which makes Adore blush. Her chest is so tight she feels like she’s one second, one stray touch, one jerk of Bianca’s hips away from bursting wide open.

“Bea—“ she starts, and it’s barely sound. She gasps, dragging in more air. Bianca’s grip doesn’t falter. “Bea. I’m—“

Adore’s voice breaks a loud moan as Bianca drops her hand to her cock. Bianca laughs quietly, breathlessly, as she tightens her grip and gives her a few experimental strokes. Adore accompanies each stroke with a whimper as Bianca picks up her pace so her hand can match the rhythm of her hips. Adore’s brow is beaded with sweat and her hair is sticking to her face and she looks absolutely gone as she drives her hips up, over and over, in an endless race to meet Bianca halfway.

She comes first, with Bianca’s name in a sharp moan on her lips, cum streaking through Bianca’s fingers and onto her stomach.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Bianca groans quietly, arching down to trace kisses along the red mark lining Adore’s neck as she keeps fucking into her in deep, quick thrusts, chasing her own release.

Adore is shaking, spent and oversensitive and unabashedly loud as each move sends a new wave of aftershocks through her body.

When Bianca comes, she goes perfectly still, perfectly silent, her eyes pressed tightly shut and her lips parted in a soundless scream. Adore, who’s watching her through heavy, hooded eyelids, chokes out a moan instead of her.

Then, the only sound Adore can focus on is her own heartbeat pounding in her ears as Bianca lowers herself down, burrowing her face against Adore’s neck. She doesn’t quite kiss this time, just rests there, her breath warm against the cooling sweat on Adore’s skin.

Adore drifts. It takes a minute, or maybe an hour, she’d never know for sure, and Bianca’s growing soft inside of her but neither of them moves. Adore’s limbs feel heavy, inoperable, and she thinks distractedly that maybe that’s not too big of a deal, maybe she can just be there for the rest of her natural existence and she would be okay with that.

Then Bianca moves. She pulls herself away slowly, carefully, like she doesn’t mean to disturb, and Adore still winces at the loss.

“Gotta get you cleaned up,” Bianca says softly. Her voice sounds raw, spent, and Adore finds herself hoping it’s still like that tomorrow. She wants people to talk to Bianca and know.

The sound of the bathroom sink running and Bianca’s footsteps sound so far away and Adore closes her eyes, lets them lull her into a half-sleep as her body cools down and stops shaking.

Minutes later, perhaps, Bianca returns with a warm, damp towel, and Adore breathes steadily as she cleans her up, too tired and too gone to do much but accept it. Then it’s more footsteps, to the bathroom and back.

Then, Bianca’s hands are working her boots open and pulling them off, along with the mess of fabric tangled around her ankles. It feels private in a new sort of way, as if this is where the moment would usually have to break but Bianca’s not letting that happen. Adore’s chest tightens and she lets out the smallest noise as she swallows dryly.

“You okay?” Bianca asks, all gentle attentiveness, as she climbs up and rests behind her, one arm coming to drape over Adore’s hips, her hand angled up to rest at her sternum.

“Yeah.” Adore’s throat scratches, and she knows she’ll wake up needing water. Bianca makes a sound like she doesn’t quite believe her, so Adore amends, “I’m here.”

Bianca laughs. It’s almost inaudible but Adore feels it against her back.

“Yeah,” Bianca whispers. She presses her lips against Adore’s shoulder and holds them there for a long time. “You are.”

***

A/N: the title is from this poem which you should definitely read, it’s beautiful.

[whimsically-ominously-auspice]

A lot of control freaks are at risk. Mostly,control freaks

The ones that must invite evil into other's lives.

The mom that doesn't care her daughter doesn't like her fiance and feels it a mistake to have gotten engaged. But continues to push her daughter, even planning the wedding for her to force her to marry someone whom will be unkind to her

The moms that get limited money welfare or child support and goes and gets her nails and hair done and leaves the children in rags.

The moms that force their children to be perfect at all times, children never had the joy of feeling free. Mud between their toys without receiving corporal punishment aka an ass whipping.

The "friend" always pushing you into drug use.

The "friend" bullying you to go out every night calling you a nerd for wanting to do homework or eat dinner with family.

The teacher that stuffs more and more work down your throat with nary an encouraging word nor tone.

The principal that beats students so hard with paddles it can be heard through the halls of the school and the child not being able to sit pain free without days.

The doctor that doesnt listen to your symptoms and sends you home without proper care Because they are too busy and overbooked.

The dentist that applies a chemical to rot teeth so that they can get money from repairing what looks like cavities in xrays

The adults breaking bones in others because they're "too" drunk or high or much of an ass hole not to be selfish jerks.

Bullies. People that don't mean well but we trust with our souls and lives and they purposely push advice or decisions onto others who dont want them.

Someone who doesn't allow you to breathe freely.

"You don't know how to allow us to breathe. So let us breathe for you" The Ventilator response to idiots and jerks who think they rule the world and you aren't allowed to think or breathe for yourself. In response to the person whom says "you don't know how to breathe. Let me do it for you"

Breathing the same term as live.

Its a beautiful virus Corona and COVID-19

Ironically it affects most Zulululu aliens... And they are the ones that created it.

Welcome to Eaerth. 🌎

COVID-19

Co Ventilator ID (children & adults as age) 19

Those of us helicopter parents ... Co parent the child with the world and the child as age 19.

Those of us helicopter children .... Co parent the parent with the world and parent as age 19.

Thus you see the equation is equality between children and adults.

I by far have raised more children than any other teacher taught for a maximum of 60 years and done it better than them by treating them as adults.

62% of negative comments about the way i taught the NHRA children said I needed to tone down sexual abuse and other information i gave them, the problem is As Adults we Learn that we were sexually abused and People KNEW at that time we were young that it was bad. So i had to tell them each and every thing that could be bad. Because they asked.

They asked me an "adult" question. I treated their questions as they were planning to go play with another child's vagina and wanted to know what the abuse part was.

Had I not explained in exact and general terms as I did they could become sexual predators themselves.

That is how i dealt with the situation. Because I was too afraid they would say "that happened to me" So i treated them as potential abusers. Because I would have ended up back behind that candy shack shaking and hysterical losing my mind. So i put up a barrier between their possible pain and myself.

And educated them in how not to become a sexual predator.

Of those NHRA children, in that sexual awareness class, 13 children only 1 became a sexual offender, repeat rapist and it was Ben who refused to listen and usually sat at his desk drawing. Of the kids that paid attention 0 became sexual offenders.

And if you watched the video they clearly focused on Ben to show he was not listening to the content nor context.

Furthermore. I had to teach them all the ins and outs so if perhaps they were an unfortunate victim they would tell me and we would have the CIA investigate so it would never happen to them

I didn't know if they asked because they were thinking about bodies and various ways they could be touched or if they were asking because they had been touched that way.

So had i shut down any child's question with that's too much information and not have a male come explain it and never have the question answered. I knew i would slam the door in the child's face from self healing from abuse or preventing it from happening to them or to someone else.

They needed all the information available. To understand that if they are touched wrongly they have to know it was wrong and that they could get help. They deserved help and someone would help them.

If i said generally "if you are touched here here or here and you don't want to be and so you were molested" then we would have a shit ton more false rape reports out there.

More lives ruined for lack of information

More lives ruined for lack of information.

Treating every one as age 19. Old enough to smoke. Old enough to rent their own home. Old enough to have their own car. Old enough to know better and too young to care.

50 year old ... "Oh sonny I can't do that I'm too old" no ya ain't old lady. You can do it too.

5 year old ... "My mom says I'm too young but i know I can" then it's something that age isn't discriminatory about.

One common thing is Learning. A child can go to an University class. 7,852,931,862,985,301 people signed up for the free wellness class at Yale of those people 76% were under age 18.

Yale. A top Ivey League school. A University most people are aged 18 or more to attend.

13% were age 50 and above.

Two different people age groups vastly far from one another deciding they could do the same exact thing a 19 year old can do.

COVID-19 surviving.

We don't take away Granny's drivers license simply because shes old. She has the same rights to decide her driving benefits as a 19 year old.

No putting granny in a nursing home when she can still keep up her own residence. She has the same rights to decide where and when to live as a 19 year old.

No telling granny and our son who they cannot or can date. When our 3 year old says "my soulmate Is here. I want to introduce you and myself to her" then you go as if they were 19 years old.

COVID-19 that term will allow us surviving the Apocalypse to survive our world that is leftover.

Corona Virus. Time down with Our Spouse and children. The difference between a child and adult is the adult can drink a beer because they are over the age of 21. So in the state of COVID-19 we still respect you're fucking old enough to have kids and we can't tell you what to do.

Wahu Virus. Whahoooooo!! The world will be a better place everyday.

We didn't create the virus. Only the names and chose to not prevent the disease to be released but to be available to be spread.

Nathaniel is always ordering the release of Viruses in China and Hong Kong. I over heard his phone calls and wrote them here. Only 62% of you remember.

He wanted a job...

So it was apparently a code. So our CIA went into the computer and advised them to release it into the Wahu zip code. Meanwhile our CIA on the ground prevented and arrested the ones spreading the disease and only allowed 25% of the virus to hit its targets.

We knew it would spread naturally and the thing was to make a big deal instead of a big virus splash into our air and land.

The targets were outlying rural areas that we allowed. Not deep city but because it was air based we chose to allow the open air places to receive the diseases.

So in a place where 500,000 people would be exposed we closed that to an area where only 5,000 would be.

So while we chose to allow a virus to spread we already had magic done to allow it to kill only EVIL HUMANS. as aliens are not ours to kill...

Except as it progressed evil aliens took too much joy and wanted to do destruction, too. So that is when Wendy and her Team changed the virus to include also Evil Aliens who have no right to be on Earth.

As People became concerned as to how to not catch the Virus COVID-19 became the name.

We never wanted China to be held responsible nor it be called The China virus so we never called it Wahu. Straight to Corona. We said we would back fold it to why we chose that location in particular.

Nathaniel's Zulululu lab is in northern China. So it would been in China it was released. We made up a huge event that was top secret about anti government assassins... People like me would be attending in the millions. And so this way we manipulated the Zulululu to believe it was the best place when really we Jist liked the name and it would suit our purpose to educate for future reasons.

We had to shut down the world's government. And this was simple.

To prove i do have control of the world and we don't want Zulululu here at all or other aliens. They don't fit. They don't live well here. We don't mesh. We aren't friends.

I'm not living on a planet that always deems killing and war necessary. For Some one to try to gain control like sport while hurting my friends I allow to live here, this is my planet it wasn't created by any another than me and Alex. Marc is a star from a collapsed galaxy. Its a long story. But we are a 3some.

When Venus was attacked. We allowed them a safe Haven. We invited them and changed our world to include them

Those some aliens that attacked Venus live here now.

I allowed them and all aliens from 1777 to 1977 to prove they have the ability to sustain their alien life here. Only 1 planet has proven they had the ability.

In the film Virgin River i once again visited to notify the leaders of Zulululu they needed to evacuate inn 1979. They instead said they would change me to rule the world. So i took that challenge. It is now 2020. And they have failed. All alien life has failed.

In the film you'll see I do things my way. To prove they are wrong and do not deserve a place on my planet.

You'll see i do allow friendly conversation and warmness between the community and I.

I get tired of the lying bitch ass mayor and i do strike her with a heart attack. You'll see me extra extra pissed off in those episodes.

So review those and realize I'm totally fucking pissed. Especially when i am standing in her living room after.

But i still remain friendly. I even bring the bitch her dam mattress down.

But i wanted to kill her and didn't. I could had but th3 point was to tell her to quit lying. She figured out who I was fairly early on and abandoned the baby to distract me. I was a trophy to be kept In the neighborhood. Not someone to listen to.

Look at Chloe's eyes. She's certainly of an alien quality..

I also knew what they were up to.

If you watch it seems things take abrupt turns ... Its research. Knowledge gained from patterns and observations.

Like now i watched and right away knew who was lovers. But it is not revealed until i figure it out then. So when she brings out the divorce I had only realized it after going into,her bedroom that the cabin was hers. And doctor had already yelled at her about me staying in his cabin. So in her bedroom I realized they were at one time living together due to her decor. And photos on the night stand on his side of the bed...

Point is we ghosted into alien communities refusing to leave to ask them to leave. Walked and existed in their communities as we did in our own with our True Loves, family and friends.

We proved they had not adhered to guidelines.

And this is why we have WWIII.

Because they are still here.

In the film you'll see phones like now to show them what we could be provided and would provide their home planets with to communicate on.

When they refused we took all our stuff away. And left them with nothing. If we replaced a TV with one of ours... When i left. They had nothing left. I took what was mine in a fit of rage. And didn't return what had stood there before.

We provided them with these items via magic 1-4 months before arriving so they would not suspect a stranger.

The first time we hadn't and in 1979 it was the second time we attempted to help them gently understand they needed other leave.

That is why what you see now in WWIII is so cold, calculated and done. Pissed off. No 2 ways. Fuck you do what i say.

33 years extra i tried different ways. Their recommended ways. To allow them one last chance..

Now in my mind these bitches are all dead. Cause im gonna kill what they live in and eject their souls.

Currently our galaxy is in a black hole. So they can't find us and how to return. Any Galaxy in a Black Hole means if you try to enter you will be killed upon sight..

No "are you lost can i help you?" Instant death.

And our planet is in a black hole within the black holes. It has been since 1817. That is why the only planet we see is Venus because we brought it with us.

Otherwise we could see almost every planet and moon in existence but we don't.

Because of rude ass alien invaders.

So with the Corona Virus we made rules that have punishment of death attached if they are not followed precisely.

To further protect us in the future.

"What's your parenting plan?"

"COVID-19 and if we don't do it we will die"

Aliens will think again about settling in if for some reason they happen to make it to Eaerth.

Then we ruthlessly kill aliens "that wasn't age 19" no second chances..

Loop hole is all ages are treated as 19. So if they do treat us as age 19 because they studied before trying to invade...,well that happened to so and so when,they were 10 --- "we are informed you treated him like a 10 year old. You must be executed immediately"

19 at age 10. 10 at age 19.

You see? Air and water tight.

No one is fucking with our planet again.

Simply they will learn to stay the fuck off.

Don't worry m I break this down to nano if ever we're invaded.

But I built it beyond xyano to prevent it.

So we will be okay.

Work on being safe and taking care and enjoying life. Memorizing your new parental models of COVID-19