#i hate that i have to bring my own material into it actually. i don't wanna preform with my own material. ever 👍

[daz4i]

girl help i hate every single thing we're going for this show

[cribabey]

I love the pervert!mark fanfics but… what if pervert!rex? eh? eh?? you see the vision I’m showing???

lowk imagining him unabashedly taking user’s panties or boxers and bringing it up to his nose to sniff aggressively, especially when he’s away from home and he has at least a whole box of user’s underwear. in post lobotomy he would at least ask politely now even if you still dated him despite being an asshole and all

bonus: Rex slowly finds out about scenting so he purposely sprays user’s underwear with his own cologne so you’ll perfectly smell like him once he goes down there for a meal <3

a/n: omg ofc i would love to... tbh i haven't actually watched much of invincible so i will do it before the lobotomy. actually anon you're a literally genius i was talking about this w one of my friends but more of for mark but rex is totally it as well. he's an asshole but he wants you. wait lowk i wasn't sure if you wanted it to be est. relationship but i thought it would be super juicy if there wasn't! cuz u know then it's supppper perverted.

MDNI- pervert reader, pervert rex.... panty stealing, m masturbation, (no est. relationship, he's literally just a freak.) PinV unprotected (wrap it before you tap it kids) , oral (m! recieving and f!) assertive r! and rex

wc: 4.2k. (freaky)

what it involves: rex is your roommate, one that you just couldn't get along with no matter what you tried. it was annoying cuz you liked him. finally you've had enough, and you decide you're going to try to find him with one of your panties, but it's a bit more than what you've bargained for.

a/n: sorry anon this too soooo long to write idk why.

rex is an asshole. there's no doubt about it.

in some ways, he's one of the worst roommates you've ever had. he's loud, obnoxious, and he almost always is playing some dumbass meme music that you can definitely hear from your room.

you're always knocking at his door, trying to get him to turn the music down so you can get some shut eye before some exam or something else that's quite important, but he tends to ignore you.

sometimes, if he's in a good mood, he'll tell you that he'll do it, and he'll switch it off for awhile. key word, awhile.

he may be an asshole, but he's a good looking asshole. and that pisses you off to no end whatsoever, because what do you mean, you literally need him so bad you can't function properly when he stretches at the breakfast table.

what do you mean, you hate how thin the walls are in your house because you can hear him fucking some other girl, and god she sounds like she's enjoying it a bit too much....

and sometimes, he can be nice. if he knows you've had a bad day and you can't deal with him at all, he won't play his music, and he'll cook dinner or buy take out for the two of you.

he'll make sure to clean up, and when you protest, he'll go, "well, i'm the best anyway, so just remember that."

but the main thing that pisses you off about rex, is that he gets all up in your personal space. he's always barging into your room, not even knocking before he does it.

he plays his music too loud behind closed doors, but the music can still be heard outside.

but what you don't know, is that behind that closed door, he's fisting his cock to the thought of you.

he plays his music so you can't hear him groaning your name as he thinks about fucking you on your couch, having you sit on his lap reverse cowgirl as he spreads your bottom lips open to watch where you're connected to him.

his favourite is when you wear his favourite black little lingerie that he gets to rip off of you with his teeth alone, before you scream his name out when he sheaths himself into you.

as your roommate, rex manages to get a lot of spank material about you, just living around you and watching you live your life out.

one time, when you were both in the kitchen together, he watched you reach up the cupboard, your shortest sleep shorts moving upwards to give him a glance of your tight panties hugging your cunt, mound obvious even from where he's sitting.

he came to that so many times he's lost count, and that night alone he masturbated until he passed out.

rex hates how he's obsessed.

he hates how the first thing he does when he gets home from being out all day is sniff the air of the house, seeing if he can still catch your sweet, sweet perfume in the air, despite that you've been out for the last five hours.

and when he knows you've just showered and have gone to your room, he hates how he basically sprints to your shared bathroom, thanking whatever gods that gave him this tiny ass house he shares with you that has one bathroom, and that you keep your laundry in the basket there.

he hates how he feels just the slightest bit of guilt when he fishes through the laundry basket looking for the freshest pair of underwear that he knows you just wore, the ones where he can smell you fresh and sweet, and he hates how his cock twitches so painfully in his pants.

and god, does rex hate how he doesn't even last more than 20 pumps of his hands when your panties are pressed so close to his nose he might die of asphyxiation, but he knows it'd be a happy death.

with each passing day of his dirty, dirty habits, rex gets more depraved and addicted.

he starts bt not bothering to wash your panties once he's done with them, just leaving the panties back in your laundry basket, covered in his cum.

he doesn't try to hide the fact that he's started to keep your underwear, no longer returning it back to the laundry basket, tucking it into his own drawers to keep for himself as keepsakes of his obsession of you, and your smell.

you ask him if he's seen your favourite pair of panties, as you tell him that your underwear has started to disappear more often, and he shrugs, saying that it's probably just the washing machine eating them all up. they usually turn up weeks later, and your favourite red panties have disappeared a total of 5 times in the last 5 weeks!

he's suspicious and you know it, but the idea of rex, oh so arrogant rex, on his knees for your used panties? it sends a hot burst of...something into your stomach, and you can feel your panties getting damper, not that you'd admit it!

rex is getting braver, you can tell. it's now just a matter of catching him in the act.

he's started to sneak into the bathroom when you're showering, with the spare key that you don't know exists, and he steals the dirty underwear that you've left on the floor to throw into the laundry, and with the dirty underwear pressed to his nose, he uses the clean ones to get himself off, wrapping them around his cock, thinking about you putting them on without a clue.

he cums in those panties, leaving them on the sink for you to wear, just waiting for you to put them on so you can smell like him, and when he does this again tomorrow, you'll already smell like him. that thought sends a devious grin across his face.

when you come out of the shower after that, you can feel your panties are a bit heavier than before, but you put them on anyway, and you immediately feel the wet spot from his cum, because the thought excites you more than you could possibly explain.

sometimes, he doesn't even use them for his own pleasure immediately. he takes his cologne, and sprays the wet spot right where your entrance will be, thinking about how your entrance will smell just like him. the thought, hours later, gets him shooting his load all over his desk, where he was staring at up skirt picture of you he'd managed to sneak.

you finally catch him in the act one day.

you'd been planning this for weeks, slowly building up the courage to finally confront him and get what you want from him.

you've been telling him for weeks about a made up conference that you'd have, telling him that you'd be out for most of the day, reminding him through small things such as saying "don't bring anyone over when i'm gone, i don't want them going through my things" and "don't let anyone trash my shit."

and so you get ready. you wear your red underwear that you know he loves, and you leave the house. you plan to come back four hours or so before you tell him you'll be back, to see if you can catch him in the act.

when you get home, the house is a bit quiet. you open the door as quietly as possible for you, taking your shoes off and setting them by the door as quiet as possible.

you walk slowly, and with purpose, setting your coat up on the hanger, and you walk towards his room.

as you near his room, you can hear some grunting, and the wet sound of skin on skin.

you can hear the low murmur of words, but can't quite make out what's being said.

as you near the sounds, you can make out what's being said.

he's grunting out your name, saying; "god, you really want this, don't you. you love smelling like me. you're such-hngh- a dirty girl, wearing your panties with my cum on them"

"god-" he whimpers, rex actually whimpers, "i bet you taste so good, fuck-" and you can hear the desperation in his voice.

but soon, you realise, the sound isn't coming from his room, it's coming from yours.

rex is in your room, fucking his fist to the thought of your pussy clamped around his dick, squeezing him like a vice.

based on the sounds of his voice alone, he sounds like he's close, and you decide this is the best time to interrupt, thinking about the look on his face alone is getting you wet as hell, walls fluttering around nothing.

you push your door open slightly, and you see rex. he's lying on your bed, his sweatpants pulled down to his thighs. you see his cock strained and flushed a dark colour, and god, his thick tip is gorgeous. you can't wait to sink down on it, feeling it bully against your cervix.

his eyes are screwed shut, and your panties are pressed against his nose with one hand, the other one gripped so tightly around his dick it looks like it might just actually hurt.

he has his eyes shut so tightly, and the wet sounds of his cum 'shlick, shlick' sound across the room.

the sight is gorgeous, and you can't help but appreciate the view in front of you.

rex's abs are flexing under the dim light from your lamp, sweat is beading on his chest. but the real show, the real show is his dick. it's bigger than you imagined, and you can feel the drool collecting in your mouth from the way you're salivating for its weight against your tongue.

you want to taste the precum beading at his pretty flushed tip, but all in due time. he needs to pay for stealing your underwear, making you go commando around the house, feeling sticky in your shorts when you're near him.

he doesn't notice the dip of his bed when you sit down quietly, and only opens his eyes when he hears your breath hitch. your face is pretty and flushed, lips wet and breaths shallow.

"you having fun without me?" you ask, and you cringe slightly, but it's too late now, it's already out of your mouth.

he stops immediately, yanks your panties off of his nose and throws them across the room, as if you haven't seen them already.

his hands drop from his cock, resting on his thighs as he stares at you, open mouthed.

it elicits a response from you, the arrogant rex quiet under your gaze? goddamn, you could get used to this.

"oh no, don't stop on my account. you really seemed to be enjoying yourself." you essentially purr out, getting excited.

rex can only stay quiet as you look at him, a dirty grin on your face, now.

"need a hand?" you ask him, seeing how he just sits there open mouthed.

you watch his adam's apple bob as he swallows, and he nods.

oh god, you're gonna cum untouched in your shorts like some teenage boy.

you shift forward, moving towards him. his hands move from his thighs, not entirely sure where to rest.

you move them gently out of the way, and you sit on your knees, looking down at the view in front of you.

his tip is flushed a light purple-red, and you think he's hard enough that it actually might hurt.

the underside of his dick has a couple of veins that are rather prominent, and you remind yourself that you're going to want to lick them as best as you can when you finally get your mouth on his dick.

your hands wrap around his cock, and he hisses from the sensation, already being so sensitive. you can immediately feel how hefty and big he is.

you struggle to wrap your hand around him, and the thought of this entering you later is exciting to you.

you let go for a moment, and rex is disappointed from the lack of warmth, and just as he's about to interrupt and complain, you spit in your palm, making eye contact with him as you use the spit in your palm to lube him up.

you hear the wet shlick from both his precum and your spit, and rex throws his head back, eyes shut as he fists your hair.

you lean forward, tentatively licking his slit, and he groans gutterly, "fuck- you can't- " and you grin in you kiss against his slit, kitten licking the precum that's spilling over like a faucet, refusing to waste a drop.

and without warning, you wrap your lips around him, taking him inch by inch.

he really thinks he might bust any moment now, and he needs to fight it. he can feel his abs tightening up again, and you can hear him almost...whimpering?

"god, you feel so goddamn good. you were keeping this hot mouth from me? god baby, you're taking me so well."

the compliments are really going straight to your cunt, and your panties are slightly uncomfortable with how much they're sticking to your mound.

you deepthroat him in one go, choking slightly on his length as you feel his tip bump against the back of your throat.

using your other hand, your hand is splayed across his bare thighs, squeezing the muscle as you try to bob your head up and down, before rex uses his hand to push you down all the way.

using the underside of your tongue, you fondle his veins, and you can almost feel the way he throbs on your tongue, dangerously close to cumming down the back of your throat. the idea is delicious to him, but he doesn't feel right doing that on the first time.

suddenly, rex doesn't seem so submissive anymore, and he pulls you off of him.

when you're using the back of your hand to wipe the saliva away from your mouth, you look up at him questioningly, and rex feels his dick twitch again, just from seeing you underneath him.

"not yet, sweetheart. in due time." he grumbles, pulling you up from the underside of your arm, before pushing you gently onto the bed.

he hovers over you, his arms on either side of your head with his elbows pressed against the mattress of your bed.

and then he kisses you.

rex literally kisses you. it's quick and urgent, and he presses his tongue so roughly against yours your teeth clash together.

it's painful but god you're melting into him.

rex is done holding back. he's gonna take what he wants, after struggling all this time to contain it.

as he kisses you so deep you can feel saliva dripping down the corner of your mouth, he's grinding his raw dick against your clothed cunt. the rough stimulation of your clothes against his dick hurts in a good way, but he wants more, he needs more. he needs you now.

he breaks the kiss, stomach clenching, dick twitching when he notices the string of saliva connecting you two, and he looks at you for permission, his fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants.

you nod, and he yanks them off so hard he moves you down. you laugh, and he immediately clocks in on your underwear, shoving his face in between your thighs, nose bumping against your clit.

your laugh breaks off into a moan, and you can feel him sniff as much as he can.

"god, you smell just like me...fuck, baby, all this for me?" he says to you when he pulls back, grinning up at you.

you can see the slick from your panties slightly brushed across his nose, and you flush, which makes him groan more.

you nod, "all for you, rex."

he grins against your mound, his nose nudging against your clit.

suddenly, his mouth closes around your covered clit, and he sucks harshly, leaving you to let out a mewl.

your hand clasps over your mouth, and you're embarrassed of the sounds that you made, so loud and wanton.

"na, baby, i wanna hear you. can you do that f'me?" he mumbles against your clit, as he pulls your hand away from you mouth, fingers interlocking with yours.

his words against your clit vibrates through you, and you can feel yourself pulse around nothing, completely desperate for him, for his dick.

"rex, please. i wan' you." you mumble, your face flushed and sweaty already.

rex grins arrogantly again, and he nods in compliance. he pulls your panties down, discarding them somewhere across the room, forgotten until later.

he groans at being greeted with the site of your cunt, and rex's mouth drops open.

"oh baby, you're so pretty...you're dripping wet for me, honey." he groans, before he leans in to take a sniff, like the pervert he is.

"rex!" you squeal, pushing his head away from between your thighs with your hands.

rex tuts, "none of that, sweets. this is all mine now, you don't get to keep her away from me." his voice is deep, drizzling like honey.

and without another word, he shoves his face into your cunt.

he spits onto your cunt, drawing back to watch the way it drips between your legs, falling between your ass cheeks.

he groans, rutting his hard-on into your bed, leaking so much he thinks he's about to explode.

he dives right back in like a man starved, flicking his tongue against your clit fast and rushed, and you think, you think you can feel him spelling out his own name; 'r', 'e', 'x'. marking your cunt as his.

you're gonna die, you're gonna die.

"fuck!" you squeal, when he finally pushes his tongue through that first barrier of tight muscle, squealing his name again when he contracts his tongue, causing your tight hole to stretch.

the stretch catches you off guard, but it feels so good, you can't stop thinking about how good his dick will feel in comparison.

"you like that, baby? can't wait to have you splitting apart on my cock." he tells you, before he breaks away from your lower lips, yet another string of saliva breaking between you two.

he grins at the mess in front of him, the flush on your face, and the pool between your thighs.

he finally pushes his fingers into you and you gasp, the intrusion making you throw your head back, clenching down on rex's fingers.

"god, you're so tight. 's all for me?" he asks, smiling down at you.

he starts pumping his fingers in and out, the speed increasing slowly but gradually, and it's almost too much, just because it's him.

he manages to find your soft spongey spot so quickly, making sure he hits it every time. he adds a third finger, stretching you out slowly, to ensure that you can fit him later on.

"all fo' you rex. only for you." you're babbling now, feeling your approaching climax.

rex feels it too, with the way your walls spasm around his fingers.

"you gonna cum, baby?" he asks you, smug written all over his face.

"yeah, yeah i'm gonna-"

with the coaxing of his words, your walls clamp around his fingers like a vice, rex swears, and he pushes his thumb onto your clit, pushing you over the edge.

you feel it wash over you, your thighs clamping shut tightly around rex's hands, which he pries open. your legs twitch, and rex helps you ride through your high.

there's tears in your eyes, from the violent high rex just pushed you through.

you're babbling now, begging for his cock.

"rex- please, i wan' it." you babble, cunt aching for his dick stretching you out, making you cum.

"say it louder, use your words. what is it that you want, baby?" rex asks, cocky as he waits for you to beg for his cock.

"i want your cock in me, please rex, please." you look so sweet underneath him, tears in your eyes and your shirt pushed up to your chest, tits spilling out of your bra.

he leans forward, popping a tit out of your bra, and latches onto your nipple, sucking your nipple hard into his mouth, his teeth grazing over your nipple.

"ah!" you whimper, hand flying into his hair, tangling in his long locks. at some point, rex's hair had come loose, his long hair down now.

rex grins again, against the fat mound of your tit, using his other hand to grope your other one, rolling the nipple between his index finger and thumb.

"aw, well i gotta give my sweet girl what she wants, right? i'm gonna give you my dick until the only thing you can think about is the feeling of my cock buried inside you, stretching you, claiming you, owning you."

with that, rex slowly pushes in the mushroom tip of his cock through the first row of muscles of your tight cunt, into your clasping heat in one smooth stroke. He lets out a guttural moan as your walls flutter and clench around him, trying to adjust to his size.

rex thinks he might cum from this alone, with how wet and tight you are, your insides gripping onto him.

you can feel the veins on the underside of his dick, grind against your walls, the feeling dragging a wanton moan out of

"Fuck, you're so goddamn tight" rex grits out, fingers gripping into the fat globes of your ass, as he slams into you in one go, groaning as his cock head hits your cervix.

"fuck me, please!" you scream, the cervix bumping causing your legs to tighten around his waist, nails raking into his back.

it hurts a little for rex, but the look of pleasure scrunched into your face is totally worth it. and he can't wait to see the marks tomorrow morning, marking him as yours.

He hooks his hands under your knees, pushing them up and back towards your chest to expose more of your dripping sex to his relentless thrusts. The new angle allows him to go even deeper, to hit that special spot inside you that has you arching off the bed with a sharp cry.

"Fuck, right there!" rex snarls in satisfaction, feeling your pussy clench and flutter around him. "That's your sweet spot, isn't it? The spot that makes you fucking drench my cock in your juices. I'm going to ruin it, baby. I'm going to ruin it for anyone else." his obsessive side peaking through. rex knows he's never going to let you go after this, even if you try to run away. nothing will make him let you go.

rex's dirty talk is just making you clench tighter around him, and you can begin to feel rex's dick twitching in your cunt. you throw your head back as you moan, eyes closed.

rex leans down to capture one of your nipples between his teeth, biting down just shy of pain before soothing the sting with his tongue. He laves the sensitive bud with long, slow licks and suckles, coaxing it to stiffen even further.

He snakes a hand down between your sweat-slicked bodies, his fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight, rapid circles into the sensitive nub. rex feels you teetering on the edge, your body tensing, breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

all the while, rex never stops with his unrelenting pace of fucking you with his dick, his balls slapping against your skin, hips bruising against your ass. you're gonna be bruised all over, especially where he's been biting you and gripping you tight.

"cum, baby, cum on my cock." rex demands, and that finally pushes you over the edge, spasming around rex's dick. you feel him follow right after, groaning as he drops his head against yours, slowing his unrelenting pace.

With a final, brutal thrust, rex buries himself to the hilt inside your spasming cunt as you orgasm. He grinds against your cervix, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he starts to erupt, painting your insides with thick ropes of his hot, sticky seed.

he collapses against you, trying to catch his breath.

he pulls his half-hard cock out, and you let out a whine from the loss of pressure and warmth inside you.

rex tuts as he watches his cum leak out of your pussy.

he pushes his seed back into your abused cunt with his fingers, tutting about "such a waste", before scooping down and collecting your underwear off the floor.

he pulls your ruined underwear back on for you, letting his cum collect on the panties instead, his spend keeping your abused cunt warm, completely ruining your panties once and for all.

you groan, something about feeling gross, but he grins at you, already thinking of next time, and how he wants you to smell just like him.

but it's totally worth it for him, because when you go shower later that day, he steals them again, using them to get off with the wet splotch from both your cum and his. he sniffs them, eyes rolling back into his head as he groans, cumming just from the memory alone of your walls fluttering around his dick, before he's even touched himself.

as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!! hope you thirsty freaks enjoyed

[queenwille]

us resident here - i can't speak for any of the college campus experiences of antisemitism, but i do work in queer art spaces within the california bay area (berkeley, oakland, and san francisco). the most common antisemitism i've seen normalized is petty graffiti - "fuck israel" or "fuck zionists" appears somewhere on every block, most of the stop signs near me have a sticker calling to stop genocide where the "i" is shaped like israel colored in with a keffiyeh pattern, and there's a busy freeway underpass that has been wallpapered with memorial posters for hamas, hezbollah, houthi, and iri members a few times (it gets taken down every 6 months or so)

while it's a little less of an every day occurrence, another common trend is artists who aren't making art about i/p will still feel the need to virtue signal with design elements (just putting a crossed out israeli flag in the background for example), or throw away references to an israeli character being hated, or having a villain character (always played by a goy) use a bunch of yiddish words for no reason

this rise in performative vilification is distressing because it's going hand-in-hand with a culture of silence around being able to actually talk about anything jewish

a play by a holocaust survivor i produced recently had the marketing torpedoed by a lot of common arts marketing groups for vague and contradictory reasons (often weaponized incompetence, like one of them would really rather i think they were all morons who don't know how to open a pdf than admit they didn't want to hang up a poster about jews), and i clashed pretty horribly with a dramaturg who kept trying to bring gaza up in the educational resource materials even though the play was entirely set during the playwright's experience before her brother died on a death march

the isolation has had some devastating effects, like the closure of a jewish art museum because of funding problems - something literally every art and culture org in the state is dealing with. while so many other groups are calling for solidarity and mutual aid, this jewish museum received waves of harassing mail and was protested against twice supposedly for NOT promising to NOT platform zionists. showing the truth of "people love dead jews", the first statements of support from other organizations came after the closure announcement, when other museums could play the victim for their own fundraising and cry about how they could be next

while i can't speak for college atmosphere, i do some work in public elementary schools, and they've been removing jewish holidays from their cultural festivals and de-emphasizing the jewishness of many historical americans. mutliple school districts in the state are involved in lawsuits about toxic work environments for jewish teachers, inaction surrounding antisemitic bullying between students, or school boards being too blatant about the erasure i mentioned above

my personal experience might start with dumbass graffiti, and deal more with microaggressions than targeted harassment (except for what i witnessed at the museum), but it is hitting really close to home for me largely because throughout my childhood my family was kind of the picture of jewish american assimilation. we were the only jewish family in town, and i had to consciously try to regain a connection to judaism when i was in college. i'm seeing so many jewish families becoming more quiet and withdrawn and it's like a reenactment of choices my grandparents and parents made long before i was born. i chose to be jewish as much as i was born jewish, but i didn't fight for it as hard as i'm fighting now, and that's what scares me the most

i’m so sorry you’re experiencing this and please remember you’re not alone and we’re thinking of you!!!

thank you for sharing and i’m sending a big tight and overbearing jewish hug 🫂

[lenle-g]

Since Scott last saw him, someone's propped John on a pile of pillows so that he's almost sitting - his limp body only slightly reclined. He seems to be breathing a hell of a lot easier for it, and there's less tubes and wires attached to him than there were earlier. He looks… geez, Scott has to swallow hard because, for the first time, John looks like he might actually be ok after all this.

“John...” His mouth moves without his consent, his voice cracking on the syllables and John, John who's actually awake, looks up - bleary but surprised, blinking at the shell-shocked shape of his brother standing there.

“Mm, Scott?” He tries, and he sounds almost normal. Normal! “Are you-?”

And then John goes all blurry because, and who let this happen, Scott's eyes are watering.

It'd be incredibly embarrassing, only it's just John - John who's seen him at the highest highs and lowest lows of his life. John who was there when he broke his leg at thirteen falling out the big bur oak round the back of school, and lied to Mom for him that it wasn't even that high. John, the man who found him, more than once in the early hours, shaking from the strength of the night terrors he'd had fresh out of the Air Force - who sat with him until sunlight poured in his window, until he could finally sleep. John, who has never commented on, or judged him for the service pistol he keeps under his pillow because it makes him feel safe. Who has always been there for him, unconditionally, even when Scott used his dissertation as a doorstop as he didn't understand a single page. John, who, right now, despite everything, fixes him with a slightly amused look of understanding.

The spaceman sighs, tilts his head, then pats the bed beside him.

“Get over here, tough guy.” John says, impressively willingly, and Scott doesn't need to be invited twice. He's at his brother's side like a shot, wrapping both arms carefully around his brother's ribcage and drawing him in. He slides one hand up his to cradle the back of the younger man's skull, bringing John's bruised face gently in to rest against the junction of his shoulder.

Scott's shaking, but John, fingers curling weakly in the soft material of his t-shirt, doesn't seem to mind.

“I'm alright, Scotty.” Little brother breathes, ever so soft, into his shoulder, voice muffled. “I'm here and-”

“You got tortured by criminals.” Scott's voice breaks on the word, and it sounds suspiciously like a sob. He feels John tense. “You're not fine.”

“I'm…” He hears John take a slow, deep breath, like this is a particularly difficult rescue and he's aboard Thunderbird Five, planning out what's best to say. But he's not 22,400 miles above the planet right now. He's here. In Scott's arms. Having gone through hell.

“Geez, Johnny.” He grip tightens.

“I'll be fine.” John amends, and Scott is impressed because the astronaut has never been good at admitting how he really feels. An Adam's apple bobs against his shoulder as John swallows. “I- I don't wanna lie to you Scott: I see that room every time I close my eyes.” Scott feels the shudder that rips through him, “but all I have to do is open them, yeah?” John's voice wavers and Scott hates it, “I open them and one of you guys is right here and that-” He takes a hitched breath, “that helps.”

“Of course.” Scott says, wetly, then a beat later; “I'm getting you a therapist.”

John laughs at that, the sounds honey warm and only a little strained. Scott feels it vibrate against his chest and it might just be the best sensation in the world.

“I'm sure they'll have a field day with me. I could be career making.” 

“I'd say I'll let you vet them first,” Scott pulls back to grin at his brother, resolutely wiping his face on his own shoulder, “But you'll have looked up where they live, their social security number, their childhood school, their-”

“All sounds reasonable to me.” John interjects casually. His eyes have fallen closed.

“It should probably scare me that you could find everything you could possibly want to know, legal or not, in under five minutes.”

“Give me ten.” He seems sleepy, but the edge of a smile on the corner of his mouth means everything to Scott right now. “It's an off day... I promise to stick to their practice records and any criminal convictions. After all... I wouldn't want to scare them by whipping out their children's birth certificates in the middle of a session.”

Scott barks a laugh, then presses his mouth solidly, firmly, to the top of his brother's head.

“You are gonna be ok, Johnny.” He promises, resolute. “I'm not gonna have it any other way.”

John, half asleep now, gives him a tired mmhuh. Scott takes that as a cue to fully untangle himself; gently laying his brother back against his pillows and warmly brushing the loose curl of John's forelock off his bruised face.

He takes a moment to study his sleeping expression - soft and relaxed and showing no hint at all of dreaming about that damn room.

Scott thinks he'll sit here, on guard, for a little while though... just in case. John would, and has, after all, done the same for him.

[shelleysmary]

lots of fans have made valid points and written well-thought-out posts about the trop ai drama, so i'm not gonna rehash them, but i do want to bring up something that no one seems to be talking about and it's the impulse that leads people to plug these things into ai generators in the first place.

fandom over the last year especially has become increasingly toxic to the point that actual billion-dollar corporations are afraid it. the result is subpar, pandering films, books, and television shows that break no new ground, recycle old tropes, and sacrifice story integrity to avoid catching heat from the loudest, most entitled people in the room. i'm calling this an issue of entitlement first and foremost because the idea that the audience should have any say over a non-crowd-created media project is preposterous. deciding that the cons outweigh the pros of watching something and choosing to walk away without making a fuss is a lost discipline now because everyone with an internet connection and a social media account believes that their vision reigns supreme. "how dare this show downplay my favorite ship! they were supposed to kiss! that was the whole point! the absence of this one thing i had on my wishlist is a crime against me personally!" so they turn to ai and click some buttons and now these gifs exist and are being circulated with an air of "i've righted a wrong." worse, the use of ai in this way is being conflated with the creation of fanworks???

there are reasons why i don't believe the ai saurondiel kiss is on the same raft as, say, making them kiss in a drawing or a published fanfic, but my main concern is with the spirit behind each. fanworks are made in homage to the source material, even the fix-it fics. there is an acknowledgment, a separation even, between the television show and the fanwork. this separation is necessary and i would say even integral to the nature of fan creation, while ai closes that gap until it no longer exists. the elimination of space between creator and audience also happens on social media, when disgruntled fans who have taken umbrage with a fictional character or creative decision directly harass the writers or the actors involved. more and more, fans are demanding to be in the rooms, in the minds, and to exert control over the people who tell their stories, and it has only ever worked to our collective detriment. now i'm not saying that if you liked and shared the saurondiel ai kiss that you're the same as the internet trolls who harass (mostly) women and people of color online. but i'm begging you to do some self-reflection and ask yourself why you feel entitled to seeing what you want on your screen.

what has changed in the last few years that would make you dissatisfied with, say, reading someone's fic or making your own drawing? is it a matter of "the tool is there, so why not use it?" is it "i believe it should have happened and it didn't and i feel cheated?" or maybe there's been a pattern you've noticed in your recent media "consumption" (god, i hate that word) where, unless a show or television series goes the exact way you want it to, it feels like you've been defrauded somehow? i'm not being facetious. i'm inviting you to notice that what you're feeling is probably discomfort, disappointment, maybe even cognitive dissonance because you imagined it going one way, and now you're at a loss because it didn't. you built it up in your head, you had something to look forward to, you were convinced that it would happen, it was exciting and you were so eager to get to that point, and then.... and then...

we've all been there. and it sucks. but i also want to remind you of how important it is to preserve the separation. this space is ours. the writer's room, the filming set, the editing room, those spaces are theirs. the actors' likenesses are theirs. thinking beyond trop, the separation is how we get creative works that challenge us politically, emotionally, that make us uncomfortable and tell us important truths. writers shouldn't have to - and shouldn't FULL STOP - do what we want them to do. sometimes that means knowing when to walk away, when to say "i no longer enjoy this show, i will no longer support it" or "i will continue to watch but pretend things went differently," the latter of which has been the spark that has moved so many online fans to draw, paint, write, or sew. it's a type of creation that allows "canon" and "fanon" to exist parallel to one another. moreover, the effort it takes to make anything with your own two hands, with your own time, and with your own energy increases your appreciation for the creative impulse. films and books and television stop being "products" for your "consumption" because you're aware of what goes into them, and it becomes easier to look at things you don't like or disagree with and say, "you know what, i'm gonna pass," or "not in my headcanon."

oh, and by the way plugging things into an ai generator? is theft. the same way that it's generally frowned upon for people to use ai to, say, write the rest of an unfinished fic without the express permission of the fanwork creator, using the actors' likenesses to make them kiss goes against everything the actors' union fought for last year. i'll also add that it's incredibly creepy. almost all of us are in agreement that intimacy coordinators are a good thing because they act - again! - as a separation between what's "real" and what isn't, the same way going on ao3 and reading a fic that very clearly says on the tin that it's a fanfic, unaffiliated with the official ip, is a separation. it's another beast entirely to normalize fan-use of ai, to say you support creatives, support actors, support unions, and then do this in your personal life. i repeat the question: what impulse leads anyone to believe that this is okay other than a feeling of misplaced ownership?

tl;dr: ai nonsense does not belong in fandom spaces. (in my home state of california, it is illegal to use digital replicas of an actor's voice or likeness in place of their actual services without their informed consent [which, in spirit, is what you're doing by using ai to make your gifs]). we all just need to mind our own business and go back to writing our fix-it fics and complaining to our friends in relative peace. if you're finding it impossible to do so, ask yourself why. remember that fanart is our longstanding tradition. stop outsourcing it to an unregulated technology just because your two faves didn't kiss.

[dapg-otmebytheballs]

The thing with the "why are you making them look bad" "why are you finding reasons to hate" kinda responses when someone brings up racist remarks and microagressions both from back in the "fetus" era and all the way till WAD etc, it reveals the way too many people view bigotry as something that happens Elsewhere. Something that is done by Other People and not us you me the people around us the people we love the people we idolise. But everyone is capable of harm, and it's quite revealing with defensive attitudes like that that people assume we're calling to boycott or asking you to stop feeling anything positive towards them or whatever else it's built up to me.

Guys. Even we haven't stopped feeling positively about them (at least for the most part, and those who have, fair play to them we all have our own personal threshold for how much we tolerate). Like that's the whole reason we're around, you kidding? Nothing I watch is free from the problematic stuff. I watch comedians who make off-colour jokes but I still feel fondly towards those comedians without feeling the need to erase the fact that they make problematic jokes and need to do better. I watch shows with bigoted themes without feeling the need to scrap them completely but I also don't hold back on my criticisms just because I like the show. And if anyone else who enjoys these things mocks those criticisms or expects me to shut up about them I see it rightfully as the insult that it is.

These social issues are bigger than us, and the thing is they really do change at a snail's pace. But putting another hurdle in front of the snail by saying "this is just spreading hate, you just hate them, go watch something else then" isn't really helping that pace. It's just showing that because an issue isn't personally affecting you, you're seeing it as not worthy of receiving criticism.

I watch youtubers far more "problematic" than DnP actually. And I love them! And I see them grow over time, I see it reflected in how they talk in videos from years ago vs now and it gives me a lot of hope. But people change because they are given a reason to change. And trying to get those affected and hurt to not even express disappointment is not gonna get you anywhere except making it clear to us who is a safe person looking to make the space welcoming in a material sense and who is just keeping up appearances and waiting for us to tire ourselves out and leave.

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Yandere! Rival! Male! Teacher x gn! Teacher! Reader

This one is long overdue I'm afraid. Have my boy, Elias >c< not much yandere traits here, but I hope y'all enjoy still!

Trigger warning: toxic academic set-up

Yandere! Teacher name: Elias

Elias was about to loose his mind.

For years, he's the teacher that produced geniuses! It's his class that had majority of their students on honor rolls. It was his magnum opus, his way of teaching that pushes his kids to full potential.

Parents scramble to have their children under his advisory. He made sure that all of his students become the talk of the school.

Pressure? What's that? The students should be privileged to be under him and his care!

After all, Elias started small.

He's the black sheep of the family. The entirety of his family members were geniuses in their own right.

Of course, it meant Elias is also a genius.

But he kept getting outshined by his own step-brother, Tae-Joon.

Tae-Joon is not as much of a genius as Elias when it comes to academics, but he's charismatic to a tee and is an amazing singer.

Amazing in fact that he's a popular idol.

And poor Elias always getting snubbed due to his brother's naturally nicer personality.

And Elias? Straight up nasty sometimes. His tongue is sharp and is always more pessimistic than optimistic. He's higher than thou personality definitely earned him a lot of enemies. Even his own family.

He knew that he can't count on his own family to give him the validation he wanted. So, with a resentful heart, he made sure to snub his own family and focus on himself.

This made him want to help other people. And he did it by offering tutoring lessons to his struggling, dumb, and idiotic classmates who can't understand such a simple topic.

Well, not everyone can be a genius like him.

But this proved to be a good path, as Elias found out that he had a knack in teaching. His way of teaching was so easy to understand that a toddler will be able to know how to do physics.

It's odd, but it's true.

His classmates suddenly became experts on the subject and this snowballed into others wanting to learn from Elias too.

This inflated his ego a lot. He loved the fact that people wanted to learn from him. The validation he seek was given by his tutees who praised and thanked him for making them not just understand, but even excel in their chosen topics to be taught with.

And Elias knew he wants to go down the Education path.

At first, he's a bit whiplashed by how different actual teaching is to the "ideal" way of teaching is. It was almost too good to be true that even the professors said that the ideal way is just a bunch of baloney that they can just flat out ignore the way once they're actually on field.

Not for Elias though.

He wanted to bring to life the "ideal" way of teaching.

So once he graduated, he continued to exert so much effort in his instructional materials, his facade of approachability, but still so strict that it feels like you want to choke from it. Sure, he has the art of being a perfect teacher to a tee, but people know that Elias is a demon in disguise. He hates it when things don't go his way, or the rules aren't followed. One trash means a personal lection that ends up with the students in tears.

The parents? Only said that their student must have deserved it to have stoked the ire of the respectable teacher. Like a brainwashed hive, the parents and other staff say that "Teacher Elias won't do anything without reason". This meant that the students are walking on eggshells everyday. And they know they'll get Elias' anger if they don't improve at all.

And, with Elias' incredible way of teaching, and the "ideal" way combined, the students under him become geniuses.

Like his family genepool, the children Elias' produces are geniuses in their own rights.

Elias felt whole now. He has a family to boast about, to care and love, and to nurture unlike his idiotic family who favors his brother over him.

But what he didn't expect is that by the first recognition ceremony, his class will be shoved aside just like that by another class.

Elias walked down the isle up to the stage, smiling proudly as his stoic yet prideful students stood up to receive their recognition. 25 of them are in the honor roll, and 5 of them are high honors. That much elicited a thunderous applause from other classes.

With his head up high, he put medals on each of his student and gave a slight nod of acknowledgement. Everyone was mystified as this class took their awards with such entitlement and arrogance that some found it off-putting.

Did they care though? No. Did Elias care? Also no.

They're the pride of the academy! Who would dare to mock and snide them?

After giving the students their medals, they sat down and waited for the other classes to get their awards.

Elias' students, adapting his high and mighty attitude, looked down on the other students who walked to the stage to receive their "measly" awards of perfect attendances and other irrelevant, non-academic awards.

"Thank you, class Uranus. Now, class Neptune, the art program class!"

Art program class? When was that added?

Elias sneered. In his head, he hated anything that concerns art because of his brother. It just reminded Elias of being untalented other than being a genius and snubbed because of it.

He crosses his arms, looking at the adviser and scoffing.

Y/n L/n. From what he remembers, you are the same age as him, and was from a different school before you transferred here in the current school year.

What could a new teacher do in such a short time? Nothi--

"Class Neptune, boasting 5 high honors, 2 highest honors, and 23 honor students, and excellence awardees for their respective art specialty."

"EXCUSE ME?!"

Everything went quiet when Elias stood up, disbelief marring his face as he heard the emcee say the tally of the class.

It was so quiet save for the background music that sounds embarrassingly loud for such a pin drop environment.

Elias, feeling his ego and pride getting kicked and bruised, slumped down on his chair as he stared at you who was looking at him with disbelief.

You...

You're an enigma.

How did you do it?

He bits his nail, his eyes low and shadowed as he watched your sweet and proud smile directed at your happy students.

You don't look arrogant, nor prideful. Just happy and elated for your also equally elated students. No pretenses, no eyes that judges others, just pure joy.

It pisses him off so much.

That's where he knew he must take over you. Nobody dethrones him as the best teacher in the academy! Especially not some art teacher. Anything but an art teacher.

Once school resumed again for the second semester, he spotted you walking along the hallways with your students tailing behind you, talking and chatting happily.

"tch." Elias says underneath his breath as he watches how comfortable the students are with you. He envies it.

"Oh? Good morning Mr. Elias." You found him by his doorway and smiled politely. "Do you need something?"

He freezes, not realizing he's looking at you too intently. He clears his throat, looking away in embarrassment.

"I need nothing, art teacher. I will get going." He said coldly, slamming his class door close.

You didn't like that.

"well, that was rude." You whispered, clasping your hand together.

In all honesty, you didn't really like how Elias leads and teaches his class. You saw how tense they are, always studying and studying with nothing to do afterwards but only studying again. There must be a balance at all times.

"Let's go kids." You said sternly, looking at the closed door intently, sensing a competition forming.

After that, it was tense always.

Doesn't help that your class is across him.

Your students weren't hostile with them initially, but after the blatant aggression from them due to being upstaged in the recognition ceremony, they're starting to pick fights too.

So, whenever you saw Elias, you became hostile also. Not outwardly like him who's openly glaring, but you have your reservations as you smiled curtly everytime you pass by him, and words stringing along some sarcasm in them.

School events like quiz bowls, spelling bees, even exams became a fierce competition that made your students head butt with each other.

And you always made sure to support your students in a way that's opposite from Elias.

Elias pressured them, always making sure they're working hard by being extra strict than usual that one thin slice to the air can cut the atmosphere.

Meanwhile you encouraged your students, making sure they're well rested and happy while doing it. You made sure not to force them to do these honestly toxic rivalries.

So, guess which one excelled more?

"WHAT IS HAPPENING WITH ALL OF YOU?!" Elias yelled at his students, completely dissapointed at their performance at the annual intramurals' quiz bowl. Other than in the World Literature and Science section, they were second to your class. "DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY HOURS I SPENT TEACHING ALL OF YOU?!"

He's so close to snapping. Maybe he already did. But now he's going insane.

Everything he believed about himself is shattering slowly because of you and your class.

What's even eerie is that the students are just looking down, unfocused or dissociating.

Annoyed and feeling like he failed them, he marched out of the classroom and slammed the door close.

He sped walk outside, sitting on the grass as he tried to suppress the imminent tears settling on his eyes.

"fuck... I'm such a failure." He gritted out, gripping his once perfectly ironed shirt. "This is all I'm good at and I'm still lacking at it?! What am I doing wrong?"

He started to question everything. His worth, his value, his time and knowledge spent on nurturing geniuses like him.

Is he even a genius? Or just a hard worker?

"Sir Elias?"

He jumped, looking at you. Your eyes were wide with concern as your voice mellowed out from the usual curt yet cold voice you always sported when talking to him.

You sat down beside him as he looked away in shame.

"what happened? I heard yelling and..." You whispered, a gentle clasp on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Elias' throat burned, and his jaw trembled as he tried to stop himself from crying.

Did he really just have to get comforted by his rival? Really?

But god, did it feel nice to have someone care for him.

"I'm... I'm not." He whispered, looking away. "I know I'm a terrible person for pressuring these bright young minds but... How do you do it, y/n? How do you nurture students to their full potential? Are you some kind of monster or what?"

For the first time, you laughed out loud in front of him.

And for the first time also, it made his heart skip a beat. What's happening to him?

"No, I just... Teach normally." You said. "Well, other than that, I don't really pressure them to do anything. But I encourage them greatly with intrinsic motivations. And I make teaching enjoyable."

Enjoyable? When was the last time Elias enjoyed something? No. When did his students last enjoyed studying?

"Really..." He whispered, looking down. "Enjoyment, huh? And motivation?"

You smiled and stood up, handing your hand to him.

"Truce? I could teach you how to be less strict and let your students be more inclined to study without potential punishment." You suggested.

His eyes followed your hand, and his heart raced.

Without hesitation, he clasped it.

"Hey, did you do our project?"

"Yeah, duh. Here's mine."

"That looks so good!"

"I had help from the Neptune Class for the planets. It's actually really fun to paint, believe it or not."

"I had help too in exchange of teaching them with physics."

Elias smiled, looking at his students actually Converse with one another and not just burying their heads on their books. The once quiet classroom is bustling with life thanks to you.

After that fateful day, you taught him on what's the most important. And it's the students, not the academic gratitude.

Elias apologized deeply to his students, and they had a heart to heart conversation that you supervised to make sure both sides say their thoughts equally.

Now, the Uranus class is livelier than ever.

And you?

You're still the same brilliant teacher he came to admire and love.

Love is a loaded word, but he truly felt grateful to you. You made him see the truth, the light, and the way to become a teacher he tried to achieve by pretending.

He found himself wanting to be around you more and more.

At first, it truly was just gratitude. But now, he can't bear to be away from you.

You're his salvation that he deeply desired in his heart.

He wishes to worship the ground you walk on, the breath you take in, and consume your entire being to be with him.

His heart lurched when a student called for his name, breaking him from his train of thought.

"Teacher Y/N is here for you!" The student said, pointing at the door.

He quickly closed his phone, which the wallpaper is a stolen photo of you just outside of your home, and pocketed it.

You're the only one who understands him. The only one who asked him if he's okay, and sees him for him and not his genius.

And he'll be damned to let you go.

You're his family now, alongside your students.

He can feel the heavy weight of the engagement ring in his backpocket.

In his head, there's no way you're going to reject.

And if you do...

He shook his head. It's impossible! Truly impossible. He won't allow it at all.

In his head, you two are perfect for each other. He'll worship your entire being, and spoil you rotten. It's going to be a good life with him.

But the both of you aren't even together at all.

What will happen?

Who knows.

All you must know is that things aren't gonna go smoothly no matter the choices.

He's too far in his head to think properly.

[conclaveyaoi]

just thought I could add my perspective to this, if it is worth anything each of you will be the judge of that. in what concerns the "caught up in the old man yaoi and forgot what the catholic church was" and "liberal? this is the catholic church" and "new pope covered up scandals fork found in the kitchen?" feelings and the extent of which they relate to your personal experience in enjoying the material and the fandom, I have found myself dumbfounded at the thought that the history of corruption and sex scandals would be news to anyone or that, actually, being aware of reality wasn't the baseline before watching the film and reading the book. in my first watch I actually joked to my best friend saying "I loved it and this was made for me but I wonder if some sort of catholicism 101 will be a pre-requisite for non-catholics".

this reality is mentioned throughout the movie and book over and over by several different characters. this reality is part of lawrence's existential crisis and ultimately the root for several of incredibly interesting questions the story brings to the table. in fact, in my personal experience, it was writing my first lawrellini smut, funny as it sounds, that removed the heavy religious trauma weight I didn't even realise I carried. I'm a much calmer, more in tune with my principles person than I was before the movie and people told me on ao3 about similar experiences and thanked me for it, others hated the film, some enjoyed but don't feel comfortable interacting with the fandom. each of us will define individually how much we want to be using the grim parts of reality/history as backdrop for our fanfiction but awareness as baseline avoids "oh no! I focused too much on the old man yaoi and now that I stumbled upon the history of corruption and horror of this centuries-long political institution I'm panicking and will return to focus on the old man yaoi pretending this isn't true". it is true. I'll say it again for all the victims: it is true. so is the aid the vatican is sending to gaza and ukraine. so was francisco (much to my surprise!) criticising the us administration more explicitly than many progressive european leaders, one of whom is keir starmer from the labour party. so what? it cancels out? never. never. never. you see, when we're kids we want reality to fit archetypes from animation. when we're adults we can point out the hypocrisy around, including in ourselves. robert harris writes knowing it isn't simple and seems to be interested in the existential crisis from within. it is a reminder the institution is made of people and people are people. when I write my fanfiction, I'm interested in these fictional adult characters as people and the nuanced circumstances they are in, including the reasons why they chose to be in them. human and humane in my native language are the same word so I've always preferred english because of the distinction.

to me, being aware of what's morally reprehensible in reality (a necessity!) does not diminish or take away in any way whatsoever enjoying the incredible art, fanfiction, conversations and meeting the lovely people I'm glad I met so far thanks to this fictional story. my blog is +18 not just because of smut but also because I don't see how teenagers can interact with this material without the critical thinking required. I know teenage me wouldn't have. I don't think the answer is then in dumbing down the source material or diluding the realness of it until it becomes disney content. we're adults. let's be adults.

to give a serious answer to the memes: I have no horse in this race and am fed up with all the news cycle but yes, he's liberal in the context of vatican politics which has its own overton window. is this a discussion you want to have? nice but you can't apply the american overton window (holds back a concerned chuckle) to the british overton window, much less to the vatican one. so yes he is a liberal as a cleric in the vatican. and republicans in the us refer to a political party while republicans in the uk is a term used for abolishing the monarchy. fork found in the kitchen, yes indeed, which doesn't need to mean nothing more than awareness of such in the context of our fandom. enjoy the movie, write bellesco, ship joe and sister agnes. the vatican is a very interesting institution with a set of rules and gay subculture that appeal to me and it's been very fun to share this with you. I watched conclave, wrote lawrellini fucking, overcame the immature anger in my religious trauma and now am fascinated by the whole ordeal as an atheist. I find it funny but I don't see any contradiction in this. being "catholic-atheist" (because one can't escape the cultural aspect of it, spoiler alert) doesn't make me morally above catholics, it just make me a non-catholic who is a conclave fan.

if this feels like a "dear reader" letter and if my advice is worth anything: let the awareness of reality be the starting point and go on from that. that was the case for me due to having a headstart so to speak ie. my catholic background. as the record shows, pushing the dirt to under the rug isn't the best way to handle anything. they would know.

edit: it was first reported the current pope was "liberal". taking into account his view on marriage "between man and woman", in my view that makes him a moderate figure, very similar to tremblay, seemingly appealing more to the traditionalists like adeyemi and tedesco. he is far from the "common sense" approach bellini mentions and maintaining the long-lasting tradition of being vocal against and harming queers. so yes, fork found in the kitchen. don't bow down to propaganda. be aware. take care of yourself.

[justsomeectoplasm]

Hhhuugh so the reddit incident came and went but I know there's going to be a handful of twitter users that don't know jackshit about tumblr and are migrating here. Honestly it's valid that you all jumped ship because there's only going to be two outcomes to this:

-Muskratatouille is going to realise he fucked up and remove the rate limit.

- He refuses to admit his mistake and kills twitter.

So welcome! I hope you like my blog. Here's a revamp of some things you need to know before interacting with me and some general notes you need to know:

Massive porn bot problem here that can actually harass you and other users by sending porn through dm's and asks. Also shares malicious links to sites which is a big no-no. Therefore, PUT A DAMN PFP AND CUSTOMIZE YOUR BLOG, AND REBLOG POSTS. That's the only way to let people know that you're not a bot and that you're 100% a living breathing human. Lurking only works through reblogging without adding tags. (Side note: irl Hot lady pfps are not that great. Bots use them all the time. Anime hot lady is fine.)

Likes do jackshit. Tumblr is more of a blogging website than a social media platform. The way it circulates and brings attention to posts is by a sharing system called reblogging. If you really want to support artists, writers, game devs or just wanting your friends to see some funny posts, reblog it. (Reblogging artists work is not the same as reposting on this site. It helps us.)

Tags are your friends in this site. You can use them to navigate through content of your favorite subjects or you can add your thoughts to them. They can also help sort out your own original posts on your blog. (for example I use 'I ramble' on posts that have nothing to do with my fandoms.)

If you censor a word I will personally break your computer. You can say whatever the hell you want on this website and you won't get in trouble (unless it's hate speech, which you can report.)

Pt 2 of the above point: The reason why I'm so adamant on this point is because tumblr has a filter system. Users use this system to filter out content and tags that they don't want to see. This helps a lot for people with triggers and over all curating your online experience. By censoring words, you are bypassing these filters and doing more harm then good. Don't censor your words. If you want to use this feature go to settings and click on "content you see".

Pt 3. With that said, please please tag your posts if they have triggers or upsetting material. Whether you do dark content or not, it is important to tag your posts if they have a well known trigger.

There is no algorithm. You create it using tags. Your post going viral is a 50/50 gamble and you better hope it's a post that's actually great.

You can block anonymous askers since you need to use an account to send asks. Have fun.

Blocking users is much more effective. You can't see or interact with their posts and vice versa. Go wild.

[iamnmbr3]

I'm making a three-part podcast series on the phenomenon that is Drarry do you have any pointers on the top three things I should cover and could you give me a detailed account of how Drarry started in the first place?

Oooh nice! When you make it definitely come drop a link in my inbox because I want to listen to that! Of course, to some extent what you cover will depend on your audience and what kind of podcast you are making but I can certainly share my thoughts and I'm happy to answer specific questions if you have them.

I'm not the best person to give you a detailed history of the ship as it has been around for a WHILE and I got into it relatively recently given how long it's been a thing. (If others have thoughts on this please feel free to chime in). I think this Shipper's Guide to the Galaxy video gives a really good overview of the ship (including some history). Some information about the history of the ship can also be found here on the fanlore page.

As for what to cover, without knowing more about the podcast and your audiences interests and starting knowledge levels, it's hard for me to say. 3 things that I find interesting are (and again if you have other ideas please feel free to add onto this):

1) The strong canon basis for a drarry reading of the source material. Listen, ships don't have to be canon or based in canon to be fun or compelling or interesting. One of my all time favorite shipping fanfics is about two characters who never even met in canon. So it's not that I need my ships to be canon. But drarry...kinda is. It 100% was not JKR's intent but due to her own limitations as an author she accidentally kinda wrote them as a thing. I mean, there's a reason I have a whole "drarry in canon" tag on my blog. And that adds a really interesting dimension to the ship and also unintentionally adds a lot of depth and complexity to their canon characters and narratives and adds so much reread value to the books. There are soooo many interesting examples from the actual series to talk through. They are incredibly central to each other's arcs. They significantly impact each other's development and stories in innumerable ways.

2) The way this should be an enemies to lovers ship but it...kinda isn't. Listen, I got into fandom via kylux and lawlight. I love a "bitterest enemies to lovers" (or "bitterest enemies to bitterest enemies who are also lovers") ship dynamic. But imho that's not drarry. And that's FASCINATING to me. These characters have every reason to hate each other - first the are rivals at school and then they end up as soldiers on the opposite sides of a war. And yet, they can never bring themselves to. They are always strangely comfortable around each other, always hold back from doing each other serious harm (intentionally), and always, always save each other. When Draco has Harry incapacitated and at his mercy in book 6 Harry is not the least bit scared even though he (rightly) suspects Draco of being a Death Eater. I can't imagine him reacting the same way if he were in the same position around any other Death Eater. And yes, breaking Harry's nose was a very bad thing to do (though given the power of magical healing it's much less serious than in a muggle context) but it was quite mild given that Draco is a literal Death Eater by that point; he never even thinks of trying to kill Harry or deliver him to Voldemort. When Harry is in danger in book 7 Draco risks everything to save him, and similarly Harry always drops everything to save Draco - far beyond what he does for any other character who isn't a close friend, so no, it's not just his usual "saving people" thing. There are way to many examples of that to get into here. But it's something that I find particularly unique about the ship. They aren't friends. But they're never really enemies the way you'd expect. They are people who have every reason to hate and hurt each other, and yet can never bring themselves to.

3) The fascinating themes and world building concepts this fandom uses the ship as a jumping off point to explore. Listen, drarry is a huge fandom so there is no one typical drarry fic or interpretation. But something I really enjoy is seeing how a lot of drarry fics take time to really dive into Draco's redemption process and into the trauma that both he and Harry experienced in their youths and how that would affect them in the years after the war, and how they would both be impacted by, but also heal from it. In addition fics often tackle difficult issues with wizarding society - including the many pervasive forms of bigotry - that the books referenced but really didn't dive into. Plus so much world building happens - deep explorations of how magic works, wandlore, various creative ideas for post-war careers for both Harry and Draco etc. And I do love some of the commonly accepted fanon that totally should have happened - namely Harry giving Draco his wand back and also speaking at Draco's trial. It's just a great example of how fandom can really elevate the source material. It's especially nice with Draco because he has SO much potential as a character but for some reason JKR hates that and so it's nice to see people taking advantage of it.

[fallloverfic]

Thoughts on the live-action adaptation of The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells, Episode 5: Rogue War Tracker Infinite:

This adaptation/show is just so bad and I doubt I'm watching the rest of it at this point. If you like any part of the show, please read the books. They're actually very good. The show is not at all a reflection of almost any part of the books, and looks to be decreasingly like anything that remains.

I think people think I'm just butthurt because I'm a book purist or something, but that's truly not the sole reason I'm frustrated. Two things are important to consider with an adaptation:

If you change something, the result should be good

If you hate the source material, why are you adapting it?

A good example of an adaptation that heavily changed things is the 2004 Studio Ghibli adaptation of Diana Wynne Jones' 1986 novel, Howl's Moving Castle, both of which I love (and I watched the movie first). Studio Ghibli massively rewrote a good chunk of the story, moving the focus from on being Welsh, obsession, some more light-hearted humor, family and romantic drama, and magic dueling (the Witch of the Waste was just a villain in the book) to one more focused on being anti-war and pro-environmentalism. It's a different story, but it's not a bad one, and obviously the visuals, the characters, the setting, the acting, the music, all come together to create something that is clearly heavily inspired by and based on the wonderful novel, but is also very much its own thing. The movie is massively beloved by many book fans and demonstrates that you can change things, create something good, and not massively piss off the audience for the source material. I imagine there are criticisms, too (certainly one of my favorite lines isn't in the movie), but generally, the movie is beloved.

Contrast this with their messy adaptation of Tales From Earthsea by Ursula K. Le Guin, the result of which Le Guin herself said, "Yes. It is not my book. It is your movie. It is a good movie." Speaking as someone who has a fondness for Gedo Senki, it is trash. Beloved trash (anyone who knows me knows I am in fact a trash connoisseur), but trash all the same. And it is basically nothing of Le Guin's wonderful books. I think its failings speak more to inexperience and production issues than hatred of the source material, though, at least from what's evident in the movie itself and what I know of the production.

The live-action adaptation of The Murderbot Diaries ("MBTV") fails the first point I wrote, regardless of whether or not you've read the books, and the people who made the show seem to hate the source material. I know Wells was somewhat involved in the show, particularly as a producer. I don't know how much was done at her suggestion or with her blessing or what she was powerless to change but would have if she could. I'm not going to speculate absent her saying something, and so far as I'm aware, she hasn't said anything. She just shares positive interviews about the show.

It's for similar reasons that I'm wary of calling Skarsgard a surprising highlight, given he was, outside being the lead, an executive producer. Despite weirdly not being one of the worst elements in the show (it helps a lot of what he does is standing still), he also has a relatively central role in making the show and this even brings into question how much of an issue he was in the production. Maybe most/none of the truly bad stuff is his fault. He's an executive producer, not one of the directors, after all, his reach is relatively limited (often executive producers just help bankroll projects). Who knows? I just struggle to look at him as a relatively bright point in the show, despite everything, knowing just how heavily involved he likely was outside just acting.

As someone who loves media about cyborgs (especially cyborgs built to be weapons; I mean come on, Cyborg 009 has been doing this since 1964), at this point I truly don't understand why they didn't just make an original cyborg series of some kind. I probably wouldn't have liked it, but at least it wouldn't have been trying to use the books for attention.

People are also arguing it's just expensive fanfiction, just like all big budget adaptations. Perhaps in a world where we could all dump millions on fanfiction, this would be less irritating. The "this is all we get probably" aspect definitely does heighten anger/the potential for anger. If I knew we were getting ten or even just two Murderbot show adaptations by two different studios/sets of studios, I'd be less annoyed one sucks.

The show still sucks. And the way the show increasingly seems to show vitriol for the core concepts in the story, the cast, the queerness, and even writing/creating a good show in general... It just fucking sucks.

Also a core difference between regular fanfiction someone wrote on their break, for no money, and MBTV, is that MBTV is made by massive corporations that generally suck (like what, you want me to feel bad for mocking Apple and Paramount? One of whom owns the rights to Star Trek? The other one of which is a main reason queer media is being removed from the Internet en masse because of Steve Jobs' anti-porn stance? Both of which are likely why the books' anti-capitalist themes have likely been largely shaved out? Fuck off) and my fucks to give about being mean to them as a result are low.

But for more direct criticisms of specific parts of the episode:

Ah yes, Arada, member of PresAux, who focuses on peaceful resolutions and is largely against violence last I recall, shooting first and asking questions later. Yes. That makes perfect sense. I'm aware Overse provides cover for Mensah and Murderbot in All Systems Red ("ASR"). Overse has also been deleted from MBTV and has been replaced by Ratthi, who has no weapons training, and Arada, who hasn't had good weapons training.

Part of my hatred for everything with LeeBeeBee (outside how incredibly badly written her intro was) and what seems to be the story's direction is the very obvious fact that LeeBeeBee, a character who was added for the show (while two characters were erased for the show, which created a slew of problems) is part of the villain group, which makes literally everything she does 10x dumber. I could be entirely wrong, even ignoring the line, "LeeBeeBee changes her tune" in the summary for Episode 6, but it was pretty obvious from her introduction, and was only even more obvious throughout the episode. She's a femme fatale, likely working for whatever they end up calling EvilSurvey. I imagine she'll attempt to murder the PresAux crew or have another rogue SecUnit pop up somewhere to do it for her.

There's a line Murderbot has shortly after it wakes up in ASR:

“My clients are the best clients.” (Chapter 5).

That's gone. It's a "relatively" minor thing but just part of a general, central theme of the books - Murderbot's attachment to the people it cares for - that is just gone entirely in the show. For the record, book!Murderbot does think it'd be stupid if its client revived it. But it takes in the situation. And thinks better of its clients. Book!Murderbot's compassion is part of why the audience cares about Murderbot. It's part of how Murderbot demonstrates its humanity. That the show is excising it out because, I don't know, they think it's funny to focus on the gross factor of humans almost entirely, is depressing, and tells me the people making this show have no comprehension of the material they are adapting. That the show is increasingly focusing on the human characters rather than the title character is also really frustrating, and makes me depressed about if they ever get to Artificial Condition, which spends most of the story with a cyborg and an AI.

The "LeeBeeBee talking about Murderbot's genitalia" thing is 20x worse than it is in the trailer. It's just an overly long, incredibly stupid and moronic scene. The actress is fine, for all I have to wonder if this is a self-insert character of the directors, considering what I've heard about them, and all the writing for her parts suck. And listen, I write porn. I like a good sex joke (or even a bad one, depending). I like stories that deal with trauma and shock. This was stupid, and maybe in isolation it wouldn't be as terrible as it is, but it's part of a whole series that is focusing in very weird ways on naked Murderbot and sex and how gross humans are especially in re: sex.

The word "gross" does not appear in ASR or Artificial Condition. The word disgust does not appear, either, and "disgusting" appears only once (in ASR), and it's Ratthi who says it, in re: how SecUnits are enslaved. "Repulse", "repulsive", and "revulsion" do not appear in ASR or Artificial Condition. I just wanted to make that clear for folks who think I'm just too icked out by things in the show rather than being annoyed at how this is a theme created for the show. Yes, book!Murderbot is clearly deeply uninterested in having sex or being in a physical relationship, and it dislikes physical intimacy. It often comments sharply and judgmentally on human and particularly allosexual actions. When it thinks about sex in ASR, it notes it finds sex boring (Chapter Two). Primarily it doesn't want to be personally involved in these things. It still does not so deeply emphasize the "humans are disgusting" vibe as the show does.

Ignoring that it's a change, what is supposed to be interesting about "humans gross" as a theme? I've seen Young Frankenstein (1974), which does a lot of the gross but funny humor used in MBTV but like... good?

Homages and rehashes are fine, I guess, but MBTV does nothing it attempts to do well.

Ratthi talking about having children with partners he's been involved with for... a day or so? Is bizarre. It's especially frustrating because again, in the books, Ratthi is actually a useful member of the team. He's not annoying, tactless (most of the time), and incompetent.

It is so visually weird how PresAux is hovering around Murderbot constantly as it's getting repaired. It's just... why? Do they have nothing else to do? I get there are two fewer members of their team, but seriously?

So in ASR, Pin-Lee, Overse, Volescu, and Gurathin all have some part in checking out Murderbot and fixing it. Bharadwaj does not. When Murderbot is brought onto the hopper at DeltFall after the rogues are dealt with, Mensah gets Pin-Lee's help to try to fix it. Why, exactly, does the show want Pin-Lee to be portrayed as useless and irritating? Why couldn't Pin-Lee help Bharadwaj rather than just standing around?

Thus far in the episode we've covered the show's central themes:

Humans are gross

These characters are incompetent

Ratthi is a child

Pin-Lee is annoying and useless

Look at the weird hippies

Again, the whole hippie angle was made up for the show, makes absolutely no sense in context, and is generally stupid. And further pushes away from the idea of Murderbot's compassion. The folks who made this show hate the books, that's the only conclusion I can come to.

"This SecUnit is our friend. . . . Yeah, that's right. I'm friends with a SecUnit."

This^ entire sequence was stupid, unnecessary, and uncomfortable to watch. The show is so obsessed with making Ratthi a dumbass child obsessed with showing off. Ratthi was never exactly a favorite of mine (though I didn't hate him), but considering the only two fics I ever wanted to write for this fandom involve him, this is so annoying, on top of how frustrating it is to watch. I love ridiculous characters who do kind of dumb things. I embody that line in Porco Rosso: "You're stupid, I like that in a man." (So many characters I love are like that) But every scene with Ratthi at this point is so deeply uncomfortable to watch, and knowing that it is clearly done intentionally is exasperating.

So show!Bharadwaj alerts everyone that Murderbot has woken up. They are all aware it can't move, but it is very clear its eyes are open and it can see them. LeeBeeBee, after a while, panics and says, "It's probably observing us right now and plotting its next move." Like yes, it is observing you. IT CAN SEE YOU. You know that! This is just "I don't know where Mensah is!" -five seconds later- "Oh look I found Mensah!" all over again.

Bharadwaj is now taking the place of Overse and Volescu and Pin-Lee for some reason, with a little add-in from Arada taking one of Overse's lines. I have no idea why. Pin-Lee exists. Why couldn't they have their book lines?

The "did you see that part of the episode" thing is just... it feels so empty. It's faster in the novel and just funnier. There's just something off about the acting in the acting in the seen. ALSO I SAID WHAT I SAID LAST EPISODE! THEY MISREAD/REDID THE LINE WITH GURATHIN SAYING HOW MANY HOURS OF MEDIA MURDERBOT DOWNLOADED! THAT'S WHY THE NUMBER IN THE OPENING IS WEIRD! People who are defending this show, please go off and be happy you like it and leave the rest of us alone when we point out this bullshit! It has seemingly absolutely nothing to do with 4D chess intentionality on the part of the people who made it. Show!Murderbot is not younger than book!Murderbot, it doesn't have a meaningful change on its personality, it's just the showrunners being fucking stupid with "minor details".

For a refresher of what I talked about last time in re: show!Murderbot's alleged "younger" age/mindset:

The line show!Murderbot uses in Episode 1:

“I could now access the combined feed of entertainment channels on the company’s satellites. I had watched 7,532 hours of content since then.”

This would parallel its line in the opening of ASR, when it says,

“I could access the combined feed of entertainment channels carried on the company satellites. It had been well over 35,000 hours or so since then, with still not much murdering, but probably, I don’t know, a little under 35,000 hours of movies, serials, books, plays, and music consumed.”

Unless there’s an actual interview somewhere specifying show!Murderbot’s age/that it is younger in the show than in ASR, I’m going to assume people are going off the number change. It’s been at least 7,532 hours since it hacked its governor module in the show, rather than a little under 35,000 in ASR, which would be a difference of a little over 3 years, assuming it didn’t just do something else in the “missing” 3ish years (and didn’t, I don’t know, rewatch anything/including that as part of the 7k number).

In ASR Chapter 5:

“Gurathin hesitated. “It’s downloaded seven hundred hours of entertainment programming since we landed. Mostly serials. Mostly something called Sanctuary Moon.”

Show!Gurathin in Episode 5 says:

"It's downloaded thousands of hours of entertainment programming."

Literally all the show did was make the numbers match better. That's it. That's all. So far as I can tell, it's a "plot hole" that didn't exist that they modified for plot consistency that doesn't matter. I do not trust the people making this to be doing something deeper like "making show!Murderbot younger" or some bullshit. Stop pretending that's what's happening absent actual statements from the crew that's what's happening, or something more specific in-universe indicating Murderbot's age more than "I downloaded y amount of media".

The kiss is 40x worse than the trailer made it out to be. I agree with what a friend suggested: I think Murderbot's asexuality angered the folks who made the show, and they're punishing it for that. It's just a thing that acephobes do. Even ignoring that aspect of its personality, the scene would be deeply gross for anyone. Yes, it's framed as being uncomfortable, but I think you're meant to laugh at how silly it is (e.g., "Look at how uncomfortable Murderbot is, isn't that funny") and how weird and hypersexual LeeBeeBee is. An ace person wouldn't be grossed out purely because they're ace: they'd be disgusted a stranger kissed them without consent. This framing is like every dude mad he "now" "can't" hug or touch women because of MeToo or some bullshit rather than you know people always have agency and a lot of cis men in particular have been taught by society that women in particular are not people and thus do not have boundaries to be respected. I've met guys like this. I am truly not impressed with what was likely going through the showrunners' heads when making this shit up.

I was trying to understand what LeeBeeBee could be hoping to accomplish, narratively, with this, from the angle that she's meant to be a villain. And I think it's very generic hypersexualization of femme villains. That's all. It's not imaginative. Even Astro Bot has the giant female snake boss, Lady Venomara - the only markedly gendered boss - moan lewdly, Oh yesss!! when she gets knocked unconscious.

And to be clear, it's not bad that villains are evil. Obviously. Oh no, an evil person did an evil thing, -le gasp-!!!! /end sarcasm. I'm just looking at this from the angles of:

Is it entertaining?

Is it creative?

And the answer is no. It is neither of those things. Adding this character to the story adds nothing of value, on top of the fact that this whole scenario is showing how incompetent Murderbot is in the show, because they're again so heavily foreshadowing LeeBeeBee is a femme fatale/spy, and Murderbot explains how the villains likely got into DeltFall, explicitly, clearly setting up what LeeBeeBee is doing, and how Murderbot, at no point, questions that she is doing that.

Gurathin should be keeping LeeBeeBee out of PresAux's stuff purely on privacy concerns. She's allegedly a member of a different organization and has no right to PresAux's proprietary data. Gurathin being butthurt he can't make the moves on Mensah should not be interfering with this, and Gurathin is not meant to be this incompetent. But the show wants him to be an incompetent led by his dick for whatever reason.

I could go on about queerness in this show and how badly it's handled, but a friend did a far better job than I ever could.

Sure, why not have the hopper blow up/crash? Who gives a fuck at this point? I didn't mention another adaptation of Tales From Earthsea: the notoriously shit live-action 2004 SciFi miniseries we as a fandom pretend doesn't exist because it sucks so much. And yeah, it's fantasy, not science fiction, and it was made by SciFi (Syfy), who have a far less than grand history of making things. But we are basically there at this point. That is my feeling watching this: this might as well happen, cause who fucking cares?

Fuck this show.

Please read the books. They're so much better. Kobo sells DRM-free copies, too.

Other thoughts:

Episodes 1-2, Episode 3, Episode 4, Episode 5 (You are here)

[alexanderlightweight]

Okay so I am reinvested in dragon Alec/ cat Magnus (I mean when was I ever not) and I have some questions pleaseeee🙈 (cause they are so cute)

1. how long have they been together now?

2. has Magnus met Alec’s family yet? I remember Alec meeting the warlock gang but don’t remember if we saw possessive Malec from both sides

3. what does their combined magical signature look like to others?

4. what sizes are Malec in their shifted form when comfortable? (like is Magnus house cat size or..) (kinda obsessed with Alec making himself smol and napping in Magnus hair)

5. what’s your fav part about this trope?

Thank you Lumine, always love reading your fics!

i love answering questions especially verse related so *cracks stiff, half-asleep fingers and takes off my spectacles* lets get to it

I actually can't use the laptop with my glasses on because it causes migraines lol but I love delving into fic and verse metalore. i'm so sorry for the mess, I get overexcited when writing meta and I just hope its coherent <3

the taste of his magic meta:

so they've been together about 3-4 months now. which doesn't seem like a long time but that means it's taken almost 12 weeks for Magnus to realize he's Alecs hoard when he's been Alec's hoard since like 12 minutes after they met. Magnus will feel very silly about this later when he thinks it through. Alec 100% feels like its his fault because clearly he didn't do a good enough job adoring Magnus if magnus' self-confidence didn't immediately place him as TOP TIER HOARD MATERIAL. (Magnus is like: sweetheart its 800+ years of trauma don't take it so personally.... please stop destroying the couch Alexander I will personally make you a specialized dragon cat-tree.

Alec doesn't have family in this and that's possibly by choice. he's a very asocial dragon who is more interested in sating his own appetite and hobbies than socializing and making friends. he probably is related to a few dragons and half-fae but that would require paying attention to other peoples relationships and Alec has no interest in that and he might have accidentally napped through a century or so and lost what contacts he did have. It's not that he hates the idea of family, he just couldn't be bothered before. none of his clutch-mates ever hatched or it might be different

great question, basically their combined magical signature is the equivalent of that really bright caution tape that warns for radioactive material. magnus' power is bright and unrestrained while alec's power is the shadow beneath it, just as wild and strong. basically there are no weak spots in their magical signature. together they are both the light and the dark, the space above and below filled without any hollows, the harmony of yin/yang with complimentary but separately existing power. Magnus power is blue and gold and alec's is black and silver and when their energies mix it threads together the colors like weaving a tapestry. if magnus' magic is the glowing lure bringing in prey than alec's is sharp, hidden teeth under the lure.

4.) in his cat-form Magnus is typically around 200-250lbs when he's inside his own home just lounging and being comfortable and this way he can pin Alec down for cuddles even if Alec is in human form. while he can fluctuate his size, Magnus prefers using his bulk to his advantage with this particular form. especially when his mate is a dragon who is strong no matter his size. like there is no 'magnus goes small and curls up into alec's lap in this fic. Magnus barely fits his fucking head on alec's lap and takes up the rest of the bed or couch because he wants Alec to be absolutely aware of his presence. he shakes the whole damn couch when he purrs and turns it into a massage chair. Alec can't really be damaged no matter what Magnus does but kitten!sized Magnus might be in trouble if dragon!Alec cuddled him too aggressively.

and Alec is a very aggressive snuggler.

in this fic alec prefers being smol!sized and that's really for two reasons. 1) he can enjoy things better when he's house-cat/small dog sized that are too small for him to appreciate in a larger form (aka it would take an entire barrel of koi pearls to give him a small taste in his true form but when he's tiny he can eat them like a bowl of cherries and enjoy every single one and 2) he really likes it that Magnus can pick him up (by the scruff when Magnus is a cat or in his arms when Magnus is human). Alec has found joy in being carried around like a purse-dog and he won't let anyone take that from him.

so Alec has three main but small sizes around Magnus: around 80-120 lbs when he's on the roof and there is more space and about 12-30 lbs when he's inside the loft. he's smallest when they're out and about and he'll go anywhere from 5lb-15lbs either pretending he's an accessory or acting like a little scaled ferret and wrapping himself around Magnus' neck or sitting in his lap and hissing possessively.

Alec's actual size is massive, larger than Godzilla and much prettier - according to Magnus who would personally polish each scale to prove such a statement true - and he doesn't have much use for it considering only half of that size will actually fit even in his own caves. so there aren't many places he can truly stretch out without going to another dimensional plane.

5) ooh my favorite part. okay so I have two favorite things (lbr I have more than that and am just picking two) and one is the mutual possessiveness/obsession. which I write all the time but Alec is normally more a little subdued or held back in my fics I think? where as here he's all about his instincts and following them and unashamed of them in this fic. it's nice to see how unapologetically he adores Magnus and how proud he is of that fact. the second thing is the misunderstandings.

do I normally hate misunderstandings especially ones that are purposefully overdone?

yes.

do I love to write misunderstandings in a way that just make it better for malec whether or not they realize it?

also yes.

I love it.

it's one of my favorite things to do.

magnus and alec constantly misunderstanding each other but still getting to the same goal gives me so much life. especially when the misunderstandings themselves aren't bad or harmful and no one realizes they're misunderstanding until later when it hits and its just like: no one can ever know.

not because its bad but because at that point its just embarrassing to admit and easier to fake it because you've already made it

and I do in fact like building multiple misunderstandings on top of each other and cackling as the tower of assumptions wobbles as the plot grows.

I love the misunderstanding in this fic specially at the beginning. Alec is trying so damn hard to take care of his new hoard and his hoard keeps stealing himself away from Alec and Alec can't even deal with the theft because his hoard stole itself!

(Alec grumbling to himself: at least the caves stayed where I left them)

magnus throwing a metaphorical dart and hitting the bullseye for a different game: so the pants are a part of your hoard?

alec: well now that you're wearing them they are

I hope you enjoyed this and feel free to ask more if I missed anything or you want more depth <3

lumine

[loumandaniel]

Yeah. Armand looks sooooo annoyed 😭😭😭 every time Daniel opens his mouth. I have to confess something. Even if I do kind of like the concept of dm and the eternal sunshine theory- I do love the question of what happens if you don't have time and your loved ones will never run out of time and also won't ever grow into anything else either- I don't think past dm happened. And uh. Idk how can dm happen then if there has been no past dm and a considerable part of dm was Armand terrorizing Daniel and Daniel trying to push through it before they eventually take a liking to each other.

i agree that past devil’s minion is essential, so without it, present dm going forward could feel odd. it’s easy to forget in fandom that devil’s minion is a blank slate right now. everything about them is essentially just theory. if you avoid outside interviews and books, the only thing you really know is that armand turned daniel out of spite. that’s it. if you don’t actively search for them, you won’t know they’re drifting toward something romantic until it actually happens.

i just can't come up with a reason to remove the chapter at all though. it plays a major role in armand grappling with his trauma surrounding marius, so i see no reason for it to be cut (hello anne rice's opinion on the cycle of abuse). it also ties into daniel’s character - his pursuit of truth, even to disastrous and unethical ends. the core elements of their relationship can exist in any form, but if there were to be something more between armand and daniel, it fits perfectly within themes of the show and who they are, even with your mention of "time running out." if dm broke up as poorly as they did in the book and there is no queen of the damned event to bring them back together, then of course armand being annoyed fits very well. imagine your annoying ex who left you because you two got too codependent is in your home untying your web you built for your current companion lol. i wouldn't want the king of destroying relationships in MY house.

the issue i've found with fandom and devil's minion (and honestly, a lot of other characters & ships get this treatment too) is that they're quite sanitized. when held up against their antagonism in the show, this tends to lead towards conflicting opinions. i hate to say it, but reading the books does a lot more heavy-lifting than one would expect. armand and daniel don't speak any differently in the show than they do in the books lol. they clash in both materials. they both want what the other has and they bleed together, which results in love.

i know this is mean to say, but the iwtv fandom as a whole really sands down the idea of love, or sticks to one singular interpretation. love doesn't immediately equate to a positive. the entire show revolves around how vampirism, whether as a curse or as a gift, confronts your emotions, your memory, against an unending corridor of time. if time heals all wounds, how many times can you rip the scar open again? like, yes, sure, louis and lestat love each other, but should louis love the man who dropped him thousands of feet to punish him for his denial of love? no lol. except, love here is measured against a passage of time beyond human comprehension. much of the love in this show can be horrific and dark, and yet there it is.

anyway, an unnecessarily long post to essentially say that, yea, devil's minion fits the show's theme too well for it to be abandoned in any form. armand enjoys living in lies at his own comfort, while daniel will pursue truth at the cost of his own. throw in the theory that a part of daniel's life is gone, potentially because of something armand has done? now, they’re clashing, but each with a long stretch of time to deal with that. they can be the warped mirror image of loustat, which is delicious to think about.

[ilikekidsshows]

I'm just gonna say it but Lila's lies were never big deal. In Volpina they were harmless lies that in the long run no one cares about because a ton of people will tell stories that they know this celebrity or whatever. They're just that stories that everyone knows that are fake and don't care because they're fun and celebrities don't do anything about them either because there is no point and they're not the type of lies that harms a person in any meaningful way.

Hell I can even extend that to Chameleon with her lie about tinnitus which I get sometimes. All it is ringing in the ears that can mess with hearing and it's not constant. And all she asked for was a front seat which when it comes to accommodations is so minor that anyone will do. It's not like she that she needed someone to help her with anything which needs proof. So Marinette had no right to complain about it or do all the other stuff she did which made her own villain. Yet her defenders will scream that Marinette has to because lying is the worst thing on earth and Lila needs to be exposed and treated like a pariah. Apparently they've never heard of white lies and lies that are storytelling where calling them out makes you look a jerk when everyone might know this and don't care. I sure as hell wouldn't have cared and would've told Marinette that in her face.

Meanwhile Marinette can tell even worst lies that should damage the trust in everyone around her. You can't tell me that Marinette hates liars when she's the biggest liar of them all without any self awareness with how hypocritical it is.

---

“Lila was faking a disability!” Maripologists scream with no evidence, discussing a condition so common no one would ask a “doctor’s note” for it. It's like someone “faking a disability to get accommodations they don't deserve” should be a punishable offence with how big of a deal Maripologists make of it. Way to tell us they're the kind of people to pay attention to who parks in disabled spots and make a big deal every time the person isn’t visibly disabled. Maripoligists are ableist for thinking that Marinette merely suspecting Lila is faking a disability justifies the harassment in any way.

And yeah, people love to bring up Lila framing Marinette in ‘Ladybug’ or luring Cat Noir away in ‘Oni-chan’ to justify Marinette's behavior in 'Volpina' and ‘Chameleon', and that's strictly because Lila wasn't even doing anything that bad or a big deal at all before then and retroactive justification for bullying (aka, reacting badly to being bullied) is a concept cyberbullies like Maripologists adore. Maripologists love the idea of using your own bullying of someone to justify you bullying them in the first place. It's so morally backwards because they're literally working backwards to find s justification for something where Marinette did wrong first.

I will die on the hill that Lila was so not a problem in 'Volpina' or 'Chameleon'. Like, I’m sorry, but saying “she's not all that” about the overhyped local superhero celebrity is not a punishable offence, because, like, I agree. Ladybug was never on any of my top favorite heroes lists even when I bought into her hype and thought she was doing a good job. People are allowed to have opinions other than “Marinette is the best there is at everything”.

I could even say that the stuff Lila does in 'Oni-Chan' isn't "the just consequences for this are bullying and social ostracization" material either. Tricking people into thinking you're dating someone to get an advantage is not the same as trying to get someone purposefully Akumatized, but you can guess how Maripologists frame it. As for luring Cat Noir away so that Ladybug had to fight an Akuma alone for a bit, that was the first actively malicious thing she ever did, and it was so toothless that having someone fight an Akuma alone for extended periods of time for little to no benefit is actually Ladybug's most common type of "plan", the difference just is that it's usually done to Cat Noir, and neither the writers nor Maripologists care about what gets done to him. While annoying and inconvenient, Lila really wasn't a threat to anyone before 'Ladybug'.

Yeah, like, the somewhat believable version of the “Marinette just hates liars” is that her hatred of Lila's lies is misdirected self-hatred because she has to lie so much because she's a hero while Lila lies for selfish reasons. The problem with this is that Marinette doesn't just lie to protect her identity, she lies about every petty, inconsequential thing to make herself look better (just like Lila) and to avoid difficult conversations. Marinette doesn't “have to” lie, she just thinks lies are the easiest solution to most of her problems (whether real or imagined) and whenever she's caught in a lie she can't stop talking about how justified she was, actually. There's no regret, only justification. In fact, because there's so much evidence against it being true, I say the entire “I just hate liars” line was itself a lie to make herself look better in front of Adrien. I have more evidence to claim that than Marinette had about Lila's tinnitus being fake. Lying to make herself look better is what Marinette does constantly after all.

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

Thoughts on Jason Todd’s choice of weaponry?

:D an ask! Yay!

Oooh, lets see, I'll start with the crowbars because I appear to be like one of three people on the entire planet who actually likes them.

They're a tacky as fuck riff on the fact that Jason's death is central to his character. They overemphasize the manner in which he died, muddy the waters about what part of his death is important to him, and strangely cheapens the manner in which he died through the parody feel of it.

No one seems to really disagree with my analysis here, but I happen to enjoy that about them and think it's very on brand for Jason. What can I say? They're fun!

Best Quality - His Wiggles

This ultra-sharp curved blade used to be his signature character design feature, the way the white streak in his hair is now, and I'm really not sure why it didn't stick!

Best weapon he's ever had, bring it back please!!!!!

The All-Blades

hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm....

HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM...

I have mixed feelings about the All-Blades. Like much of Lobdell's work: phenomenal idea, poor execution. Giving the guy who is most known for being morally grey a set of powers that is exclusively based on moral absolutes sucks shit, I gotta be honest, and the trick he pulled on the blood blade was cool but ultimately does nothing to solve those problems.

HOWEVER

I want to love them so fucking badly. A set of glowy soul blades is a dope sicknasty off the chain concept and I wish the well wasn't poisoned with the moral implications and the restrictions to use them only on the "Untitled", a set of enemies that only exist for Jason so far as I can tell. If someone seriously took Jason down a magic based path that removed the DnD alignment chart bullshit, I would be so game to see them come back! Hell I wouldn't even insist on a better cooler design for them!

...though uh, yeah those are the least interesting magic sword designs I've ever seen tbh

Normal Ass Swords

They're alright I guess. Like, there's nothing in it really, but it's not bad?

Guns - Real Bullets

Excellent, evocative yet simple, straightforwards and to the point. It makes hella sense thematically to boot, love this for him, please give him back his pistols and miniguns and shit

Guns - Rubber Bullets

Hate. HATE. hate ick disgusting bad NO.

I just fucking hate rubber bullets, like, as a concept. I refuse to accept "non-lethal" bullets as a valid use of gun, either in real life or in fiction. Guns are for putting many holes in things very fast!!!! If you're gonna use a gun, fucking well own up to that!!! Do not play this silly ass game of pretending that you can change out the material and do the same things as with lead bullets but with the video game status effect of "non-lethal" applied. YOU ARE GIVING PEOPLE SMALL CIRCULAR BRUISES. This is still harmful, yes, ooph ouchie, but it is not even slightly a good use of a gun, you are wasting holster space, and carry weight, and the physical materials used to make it all!!

JUST USE A FUCKING STICK! YOU DON'T RUN OUT OF STICK AMMO!

My belief in his capacity to take out enemies is shattered the instant those fuckers are on panel. Maybe this ain't entirely rational, or realistic to how fights go with rubber bullets IRL, but I hate them so much on principle that I will ignore any counterargument you might have that they'd work. I will die on this hill. Rubber bullets BAD. Please stop making him use this!!

Bombs

Love it, give him more bombs forever

ka-BOOM!!!!

His Brain

This is actually his best weapon - sorry wiggly knife, you're being shunted down to number 2 on a last minute technicality! I think Jason is at his best when he's outsmarting people and making long term fucked up schemes to ruin people's lives.

He's so good at it! It's so fun to watch him do it!

Genuinely a shame that this facet of him was mostly lost after Flashpoint, though to give credit where it is due, in Rebirth Jason did ruin the Penguin's life in an impressively elaborate way, which I did really enjoy. I want to see him be a tactical deliberate menace to one person in specific again idk, that's part of why I do kinda agree that he works better as an antagonist than a protagonist - which it should be noted does not mean I think he works better as a villain necessarily, his ethics aren't what matter here - he's just had his best moments as the schemer, and it's hard to have a protagonist schemer even when you make them ethically the good guy.

I hope you enjoyed my nattering on about Jason's weapons :D thank ye again for ask!

[wintaerbaer]

things we don’t say: part 5 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slow burn, angst, fluff, eventual smut

word count: 12.1k

chapter warnings: jeon jungkook, seventeen is here because i needed fill-ins (also they’re not singers but their music still canonically exists in-universe so good luck figuring that one out), a wedding!, tae is WHIPPED, the infamous butt debate, jealousy (plural), jimin has terrible timing, alcohol consumption ft. a drinking game, a mega cliffhanger i’m so sorry

a/n: while not required, i highly recommend reading the prequel drabble if you haven’t yet as it has some heavy relevance to this part and the next! special thanks to @btsborahaee and @jeonwiixard for beta-ing this chapter and letting me gush and brainstorm in their inboxes on the regular <3 also, shout outs to @animeniacss and @taegularities for sprinting with me all the time (and a forehead kiss to rid for coming up with the idea for the bathroom scene, mwah)!

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

"After today, I never want to see a ribbon ever again."

Jimin fumbles his fingers over the thin string, throwing his hands up in a huff when the slippery material resists his efforts to tie it. With Hoseok and Sunny's wedding only two weeks away, you'd offered to help out with some of the prep work, and Taehyung suggested hosting a mini prep party at your apartment as part of his efforts to make new memories since you'd moved back. True to his word, he’s been at your place nearly every day the past few weeks, cooking dinner with you and rewatching your favorite shows from high school.

You have to admit it’s been pleasantly domestic.

"It's not that bad," you say, finishing off your own ribbon around one of the tiny boxes of chocolate which will be distributed to each of the two-hundred-plus guests as a wedding favor.

"No, I'm serious. I don't even want to tie my shoes anymore. I'm a Crocs guy now."

"I've heard girls love sport mode," Taehyung quietly teases. "Is that right, Y/N?"

The flirtatiousness of his tone startles you, and your eyes snap up to meet his where he sits across from you at the dining room table. He's smiling one of those mischievous grins that makes your stomach churn, belly lurching when he stuns you with a wink before turning back to his own tiny box.

What the fu—

"If any of you show up to my wedding in Crocs, I'm kicking you out," Sunny grumbles.

Hoseok smacks his lips as he ties off a ribbon. "Does that also go for—"

"You as well, yes."

Your group settles into a momentary silence at her declaration—not a sound besides the ripple of ribbon and paper. At least until—

“I got laid wearing Crocs once.”

The entire table groans in unison, and you toss a bit of balled up wrapping paper at Jungkook's chest that bounces pathetically to the floor as Jimin boos. “No one cares about your sexcapades, Kook.”

“What, it was impressive!” he argues. “Just be thankful I'm not bringing any of them to the wedding.”

“I almost wish you were,” Hoseok grumbles. “You'd better not be picking up anyone inappropriate that night. Sisters, cousins, aunts—”

“That was one time!”

“—and anyone else even remotely close to family are off limits.”

Jungkook is quiet for a long moment, pouting to himself, before he says, “Moms?”

The table boos again, more bits of wrapping paper flying his way.

“I'm kidding! Kidding!”

“Actually, Y/N,” Sunny murmurs, leaning towards you. “I hate to bring it up, but are you planning on bringing anyone else in Jace’s place?” Her expression is one of compassionate regret, with pursed lips and a furrowed brow, but the question still hits you low in your chest, knocking the wind out of you.

“I feel terrible asking,” she continues, “but one of my friends from high school originally declined a plus-one, and now she’s asking if there’s any way we can squeeze in this guy she met two weeks ago, and normally I’d tell her no, there’s no way I can change the head count two weeks out and who is this guy anyway, but then I figured that we do technically have an extra spot so we could fit him in, but I’d definitely give you the option to bring someone else first if you wa—“

“It’s fine,” you say, trying to ignore the way everyone else around the table is now looking on in sympathy. “I have no one else to bring. Let her guy come.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” It feels like you’re dying inside, but you try to look unbothered, especially since you can feel Taehyung’s eyes on you. “I don’t mind.”

“Okay,” Sunny quietly agrees, just as Hoseok suddenly jumps in at her side.

“You know, Tae isn’t bringing anyone to the wedding either,” he says, looking between the two of you. “Why don’t you just go together?”

“I’m also going alo—“ There’s a thump under the table and Jungkook immediately shuts his mouth.

You glance at Taehyung, who’s looking back at you with a dip in his eyebrows and parted lips. It was probably a given that you would spend time at the wedding hanging out already, but wouldn’t going together mean something else entirely? A promise of dancing and proximity and a label the two of you have never shared?

Perhaps that’s the reason why he’s staring at you with a touch of discomfort. Your own skin prickles at the thought, and so you scratch away the itch at your chin and deflect.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to.” Then you stand from the table sharply, hitting your limits with this conversation. “I’ll be right back.”

You head for the bathroom, not even needing to do anything in there, but sure that you can busy yourself for a few minutes to get your emotions under control away from your friends. But as you’re about to swing the door shut behind you, a large hand reaches out to stop it with a thud, and Taehyung quickly slips in before closing the door himself.

“Tae, what are you—“

“Come with me.”

You’re practically chest-to-chest, and if not for the fact that you’ve stopped breathing with his question, you’d probably be pressed up against him in the tight space.

“What?”

He licks his lips, pulls in air through his nose like he’s bracing himself.

“Come to the wedding with me.”

The room is heavy with silence as his request fully sinks in, the air between you thick and hot as you try to get some of it into your lungs. It’s hard, though, to develop a coherent thought with him standing so close—his scent engulfing you and dark, searching eyes fixated on your expression.

“I don’t kno—“ you begin, but he’s quick to cut you off.

“Why not? Like Hobi said, neither of us is bringing anyone already.” His fingers brush yours—an apology for mentioning it again. “So why not go together and…not be as alone.”

You shift on your feet. “But you do know that you don’t have to do this. I’m fine without a plus one. There’s no shame in it for me.”

“Y/N,” he huffs. “You know that I like being around you, right?” He nudges gently against the underside of your chin, making you look at him directly. “I wouldn’t have stuck around this long if I didn’t.”

You’re still skeptical—nervous about the implications of what this would look like, especially when you just got out of a relationship. To you, it feels very much like teasing a boundary. But Taehyung is all nerves in front of you, gaze darting up-and-down your face and a tiny pull at the corner of his mouth telling you that he’s chewing on his lip.

And of course, because it’s him, you cave.

“Okay.”

He beams and, not for the first time, you feel your chest lighten at the sight of his boxy smile. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, smiling back.

“Okay.” Almost impossibly, his grin gets even wider, and you can see the wheels begin to turn in his head. “Do you have a dress picked out yet? What color is it? I can match you.”

It takes you aback. You wouldn’t have even thought about that. “Emerald green.”

“Emerald green,” he repeats, something registering behind his eyes, and he licks his lips again. “Okay. Great.”

He shifts like he's getting ready to leave, but you catch his fingers to reel him back. And you hate to put it out there, hate to even bring it up, but after everything you’ve been through, you need the clarity.

“And Tae,” you say, “this isn’t a date, right?”

He gives a slow blink, a wave of unknown emotion rippling from forehead to chin before he smiles gently at you, eyes softening at the corners. “Of course not.”

You nod. “Okay.” And a small part of you feels…disappointed?

But there's no time to dwell on it as he exits the bathroom, and you follow him out in spite of doing exactly zero bathroom things. You return to the dining room together, your friends clearly trying to look nonchalant as they diligently work on their party favors but being way too quiet to not have been trying to eavesdrop on your conversation.

“Sunny,” Taehyung says as you take your seats, looking positively brighter. “Just make sure we're sitting next to each other, yeah?”

She snorts. “As if you were anywhere else to begin with.”

Blue skies stretch endlessly in front of you, wind running through your hair and sunlight filtering in through the sunroof as you and Taehyung make the trip to the lakeside resort where Hoseok and Sunny are to be married. He's the absolute picture of relaxation in the driver's seat, wearing sunglasses and a mindless smile with his fingers wrapped delicately around the steering wheel like vines.

He'd opened the door for you when he picked you up, a seemingly spontaneous gesture that had left you both shy and blushing. But if the afternoon started with a touch of unusual awkwardness between you, the prospect of your “not a date” wedding date making itself known, it has since evaporated in the hot summer air. At this point, you’ve spent the past hour chatting, playing road trip games (Taehyung somehow destroying you in the alphabet game in spite of having to focus on driving), and burning through three boxes of Pepero.

“These are an addiction, I swear,” you say, crunching down on a chocolate-filled stick and clapping your hands in delight. Taehyung’s eyes leave the road for a second as he takes you in and grins.

“Was that the last of it?”

“Oh.” You peer into the box. Empty. “Yeah. Sorry. Did you want it?”

“No, it’s fine. You can have it.”

“I sure hope so since I already swallowed it.”

He laughs, whole face lighting up with it, and you feel something turn over behind your ribcage as if someone’s flipped your heart like a pancake. It makes you think that even though you were supposed to be making this trip with a different person, you’re glad it’s him instead.

My love only amounts to this.

The lyrics ring out through the car, and Taehyung leans forward suddenly, turning up the volume on the stereo.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s your favorite song!” he joyfully says. “I know you like to sing along.”

You stare at him blankly, taken aback because you don’t think you’ve ever mentioned this to him. When did he notice…?

“C’mon, sing with me. Play a song I know and one step. Hold my hands and put my feet in, two steps.”

His sweet baritone sounds out beside you, and you feel a grin break out across your face. You always forget what a joy it is to hear Taehyung sing.

“The person to know all my secrets is you,” you sing, joining along. “So I’m even more thankful.”

“Sometimes when you get tired, and I see you crying with your head down, I don't know what to do. What can I do?”

You’re both belting it out at the top of your lungs by the time it gets to the chorus, and you think the sun has somehow moved inside the car with how bright and warm you feel.

My love only amounts to this. But thank you for staying by my side, my baby.

Your car charges down the road, trailing laughter and joy in its wake, and your chest feels light for the first time in weeks.

Even if my love only amounts to this. I'll be your umbrella in the rain. I'll protect you on all your days.

Jimin, Maya, and Jungkook meet you in the hotel lobby—a marble behemoth with wrought iron staircases and sofas that definitely cost more than your rent—and you all line up to check in, gawking at the elaborate chandelier that hangs above your heads.

“How did they even afford this place?” Jimin wonders.

Maya sucks her teeth. “At this rate? I think they might have mob ties.”

“Feet pics,” Jungkook says simply.

Once everyone has obtained their key cards, you set off to find your rooms. You’re all on the same floor since a certain section was booked specifically for the wedding, but with you having a room with only a single queen-sized bed, you’re down the hall and away from the others who booked doubles.

While Jimin, Maya, and Jungkook break off to get acclimated in their own respective rooms, Taehyung follows you into yours with a touch of melancholy, your luggage slung over his shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re fine here alone?” he asks, setting your bag on the ground. “I can room with you if you’d like. I’m sure Kook wouldn’t mind.”

“There’s only one bed,” you point out, blushing.

Taehyung also goes slightly pink. “Well yeah, but the other week we just…or I can take the couch. Or we can ask Kook to swap rooms?”

“It’s okay,” you say. “I’m alone at the apartment all the time anyway.”

He nods, looking oddly shot down. “Alright. But if you change your mind, just ask.”

“Unlikely,” you tease with a wrinkle of your nose. “You snore.”

He gasps, feigning hurt. “I do not.”

He doesn’t. But you still tilt your head solemnly, pressing your lips together as if preparing to deliver bad news. “You do.”

“Shit,” he sighs before the two of you break down in giggles.

A few hours later, the five of you wind up at the resort’s restaurant for dinner, lamenting the exorbitant prices but enjoying an incredible meal. The night dwindles down as you settle in at the bar, figuring you can have a couple drinks before resting up for tomorrow’s big day. With a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, you have a perfect view of the lake outside and the glow of the sunset spreading out above the trees. It tints the room orange, seeping onto every surface, including Taehyung’s forearms resting atop the bar.

You trace his veins with your eyes, study the way they trail to his hands curled lightly around his low ball glass. Your friends are talking about plans for tomorrow, but you’re not paying much attention; you’re far more interested in trying to figure out when your best friend’s arms started looking like that.

“And don’t worry, Chim. If I have the chance to get lucky, I’ll make sure not to use our room,” Maya says, placing a hand over her heart in pledge. “No locking you out because I’m a good friend.”

But Jungkook has tensed up next to you, and in spite of the cute pout of his lips, the creasing of his forehead suggests that he’s genuinely upset. “Hook-up? You’re going to find a hook-up?”

Maya looks at him incredulously, drink paused halfway to her lips. “Possibly. Aren’t you?”

“I…” His teeth bite into his lip. “It’s a wedding.”

She barks out a devilish laugh. “So? When has that ever stopped you?” A spiteful glare is sent his way that even has you shrinking behind him in secondhand shame. “Since when do you have morals?”

Taehyung’s knee squeezes against yours under the bar—a warning, probably, but your brain momentarily becomes fixated on the weight of it, on how nice it feels to have his warmth pressed against you. It’s not until he taps a finger against your thigh, signaling with his eyes at the sullen man behind you, that you pass on the touch, giving Jungkook’s elbow a gentle nudge in support and encouragement. He takes a quick look at you with sad, vulnerable eyes, and you’re reminded of how flustered he’d been during your conversation a few weeks ago.

“I was actually thinking,” he begins, more serious than you’ve ever seen him, “that maybe we could go together since neither of us have dates.”

Maya snorts, setting her drink down firmly on the countertop. “Why, so you can ditch me halfway through for the first woman that flutters her eyelashes at you? No thanks.”

Jungkook physically recoils like he’s been slapped, the force sending him back so far that he practically winds up in your lap. “You really think I would do that?”

His voice is tiny, hurt dripping from every syllable, and it makes Maya finally look up, face dropping as she seems to realize the wounds she’s inflicted upon him.

Her brows draw together, and she opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted by the bartender popping up to ask if anyone needs a refill. By the time he leaves, the moment’s passed, and Jungkook briskly stands up, throwing some money down on the bar.

“I’m done. See you guys tomorrow.” And he strides out towards the hotel lobby.

You hop to your feet, shaking your head at Maya. “That was uncalled for.”

She looks guilty but says nothing, rubbing a finger along the rim of her glass, and you follow Jungkook out, calling his name as he approaches the elevators.

“Jungkook!”

He spins to face you with a frown, thumbs hooked in his pants pockets like he’s trying to look casual, but his eyes betray his discomfort. “What?”

“She didn’t mean that,” you say, slightly breathless from your jog across the lobby. “I know she didn’t.”

“Sure she did. That’s who she is. Always speaks her mind.” He shrugs, shirt rippling over his shoulders. “It’s fine. I don’t care.”

“Don’t you though?” you ask. “You’re not a bad guy, Kook. You deserve simple respect at least.”

“Maybe I don’t.” The elevator dings, and he steps inside, turning back to you with a final sad smile. “Night, Y/N.”

A sense of dread taps into the back of your skull, fear that your original inkling on this relationship was perhaps correct. Though you’ve since warmed up to the idea of Maya and Jungkook as a potential couple, it was this exact tension that you were worried about—their fire and gasoline dynamic harboring implications that could blow up your entire friend group.

Taehyung strolls up next to you as the doors roll shut, sighing as he comes to a stop. “He okay?”

“No, but don’t try telling him that.”

He purses his lips. “I had a quick talk with Maya. Reminded her that just because she’s had bad experiences with guys in the past doesn’t give her the right to take it out on him.”

“Good,” you say. “She probably needed to hear it.”

A nod as he assesses your figure and asks, “Are you coming back to the bar? I already covered your tab.”

“Oh, I’ll pay you back—“

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “You can make it up to me a different time.”

You smirk at him, stepping closer. “How about I roll it into your Christmas present?”

“Deal.”

You let out a soft laugh, and he offers to walk you up, pressing the button to call the elevator back. The two of you chat about nothing in particular as you make your way to the third floor, commenting on the ridiculously patterned carpet in the halls and laughing about the strangely risqué photos that you noticed hanging in the rooms.

When you arrive at your door, you swipe your key card over the sensor, turning the light from red to green and wishing Taehyung goodnight, but he loops his fingers around your wrist to lightly tug you back.

“Y/N.” He curls his bottom lip over his teeth, head dipping towards the ground in a shy smile as he searches for his words. “I’m…really looking forward to tomorrow. It’s going to be fun.”

He’s adorable; he truly is. Seventeen years of affection, and he still finds ways to endear you to him even more, bits of gold from the lamps catching on the browns of his eyes as he stands before you.

“It is,” you say, tongue tied around your own apprehension. He hums and looks like he wants to say more—tangles his fingers in front of him and chews on his lip as he fidgets. But after a moment passes—you still stuck on his eyes—he jerks his chin down in a nod, says goodnight, and leaves you standing at your door in confusion, taking one look back as he swipes his own key card down the hall and disappears into his room.

You enter your own space with your mind whirling, not sure what the hell just happened but also sure that you’re not upset about it. And once you’ve gone through your bedtime routine and settled in for the night, you fall asleep thinking about brown eyes and shy smiles, welcoming the most restful sleep you’ve had in weeks.

You awake to the sound of Maya knocking on your door promptly at 9am with her suitcase in hand, casually making her way to your bed when you let her in and picking up the hotel menu from the side table while you stare at her. "What are you doing?" "We are going to order room service and watch some shitty TV, and then I am going to help you get you ready for your date." "It's not a date," you say on impulse, though you're internally tamping down the involuntary flutter that's tickling your stomach. "If it's anything, it's a guy taking pity on his unexpectedly-single friend." "Pity date then." She says it with a nonchalant wave of her hand and doesn't give you the chance to speak when you open your mouth to protest. "Y/N, please, just give me the chance to make his jaw drop. If there really is nothing there like you say there is, then what's the harm?" The harm, you think to yourself, is the tingling feeling that's been increasing in intensity when you've been around Taehyung recently, warmth flooding your body at just the thought of him. Your brain has been desperately explaining it away, chalking it up to years of familiarity and comfort being stoked by the emotional trauma which (you're quick to remind yourself) you're still working through. No, Y/N, I don’t have feelings for you. It's these thoughts that, in the end, have you acquiescing as Maya lets out a joyful squeal. At the very least, you make your friend happy and get some well-deserved girl bonding time. Really, what's the harm?

The idea has barely finished running through your mind when you’re already beginning to regret it and wondering what the hell you just got yourself into. Maya wheels her entire suitcase to the foot of your bed and pulls out no less than seven bags of make-up, a curling iron, hairspray, four different brushes, and a straightener.

“Are you doing the entire wedding party after this?” you ask incredulously. “Why did you bring so much?”

“Needed to be ready for anything,” she says, organizing her tools into neat rows. “When I’m done with you, every straight man and half the women will be falling at your feet.”

Your face heats, and you subconsciously rub at your arm. “That’s really not necessary.”

“Okay, then just one man.” She raises her arms, fingers arranged into a square through which she peers at you like she’s sizing you up for a photograph. “Hmm, where should we start?”

You and Maya make your way to the resort's event hall a little while before the ceremony is scheduled to begin. Seating doesn't seem to have opened yet as guests mill about the entryway, the buzz of conversation filling the space above your heads, and the two of you pause at the top of the stairs to see if you can spot your friends. "I think Kook's got a purple tie," she says, peering around. "And you know what he's wearing why?" you ask, but she ignores you. "Oh, look, there they are." Maya's goal may have been to get Taehyung's jaw to drop, but you're left stunned when you look over to where he's standing with Jimin and Jungkook, the now-familiar tingle rippling through your veins once again. His black suit is perfectly tailored, accentuating his broad shoulders and narrow waist, emerald green tie wrapped around his neck to match the color of your dress as promised. He's slicked his hair back and away from his eyes so you're able to see how they nervously dart between Jimin and Jungkook, clearly not listening to whatever it is they're enthusiastically saying. Actually, once you look more closely, everything about his body language screams nerves for some reason, his hands moving back and forth to play with the hems of his jacket before smoothing the lapels over and over again. Maya waves, grabbing Jimin's attention, and you watch as he grins at the two of you before leaning in to say something to Taehyung, pointing at where you're standing. Maybe, you think, just maybe you appreciate Maya's plan from this morning after Taehyung glances up at you. His incessantly-moving fingers finally still—halfway through re-adjusting his tie—and his perfect Cupid's-bow-lips pop open, eyes wide as he soaks you in in your floor-length gown. Maya’s worked your hair into loose curls cascading over your shoulders and bare back, and while you convinced her to not go wild with the make-up, she strong-armed you into agreeing to a deep red lipstick that’s only accentuated by the green of your dress. A smug cough comes from your right (clearly Maya's pleased with her work) as you descend the stairs and approach the trio of men. Jimin and Jungkook greet you brightly while Taehyung still looks mildly concussed, continuing to stare at you with his mouth half-open. "Alright there, Tae?" you ask, reaching up to adjust and smooth out his tie, messy from where his hands had frozen on it.

The pads of your fingers are hot where they brush against the hard muscle of his chest, and you try not to read too deeply into the pounding of his heart. Taehyung makes a weird noise akin to what you'd imagine a drowning fish would sound like, and Jungkook gives him a sharp slap on the back, which seems to knock him out of whatever trance he'd fallen into. "Incredible!" he blurts, and you almost want to laugh at the reset-button-like effect Jungkook's smack seems to have on him. He clears his throat, composing himself further. "I, um—you, I mean. You look incredible." You thank him, ignoring the second wave of smugness that comes from Maya's direction, just as the event staff open the doors and begin ushering guests into the hall. Taehyung offers you his arm, and you gladly take it as he guides you to sit alongside your friends.

The wedding hall is as grandiose as the rest of the hotel, with columns ornamenting the sides of the room and a massive flower arch constituting the altar. You all talk as you wait for the ceremony to begin, admiring the decor (the bright bouquets of red, purple, and blue flowers pop against the stark white of the venue) and trying to see if you recognize any of the guests.

“Oh, there’s Sunny’s cousin Chan,” Maya says, peering out over the room. “Remember we met him at that party one time?”

“Didn’t the two of you drunkenly make-out?” you ask.

Jimin frowns. “I thought they hooked up.”

“No, Y/N is right.” She fixes her hair, oblivious to the way Jungkook is now staring at the man in question, hackles raised. “Wouldn’t say no to that happening again; he was good with his hands. Tae, are you alright? You’re looking at Y/N like she’s sprouted four more arms.”

You swivel your head around to see Taehyung next to you, entirely flushed red above the shoulders. He licks his lips as he meets your eyes, blinking furiously like he’s trying to clear his thoughts. “Sorry, I spaced out.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Maya waves a dismissive hand, shuffling her attention to Jimin to ask if he knows about the music choices for the ceremony.

A throat clears on your right. “You do look nice. Really.” Taehyung looks utterly sheepish, his head tilted low as he softly pays you the compliment, and it reminds you of how shy he was last night as well. A butterfly takes flight in your chest, and now you’re the one blushing.

“Thank you. You cleaned up nicely, too,” you reply, and he blinks at you in a way that has you second guessing your words. “Not that you don’t always clean up nicely. And not that you don’t normally look very handsome. Because you do. Look very handsome, I mean. All the time.”

His bashfulness morphs into amusement, lips quirking up in an affectionate smile. “Oh, really?”

Your face heats up even more, mouth opening to respond with you don’t even know what, and you’re grateful when a hush falls over the room, the beginning notes of a wedding march signaling the ceremony’s start.

Hoseok appears first, looking dapper in a full tuxedo and grinning ear-to-ear. He walks down the aisle with long strides like he can’t possibly get to the end fast enough, bouncing on his toes as he settles into his spot.

The officiant is next, followed by Iseul and Seokmin, one of Hoseok’s childhood friends. Hana and Namjoon stroll in arm-in-arm after that, then Yumi and Jiho, and finally, everyone rises to their feet as Sunny appears at the entrance and begins her walk in, gaze finding only her groom.

Just as Sunny reaches the head of the aisle, a teary-eyed Hoseok taking her hands in his, another image, one which had once occupied your mind almost constantly but hadn't plagued you in weeks, takes hold: you and Jace in a similar setting, pledging forever to each other in front of your friends and family.

Maybe you had gotten ahead of yourself—the discovery of the ring box in his desk along with the natural longevity of your relationship sparking your imagination—but in the weeks leading up to your heartbreak, you had allowed your mind to plan—what kind of dress you'd wear, the colors you'd pick out, what you might say in your vows. It seems stupid now, dwelling on a future that's already evaporated into nothingness, but seeing the echoes of your dreams being played out in front of you, it’s like you can feel the sand physically slipping through your fingers.

Right as it starts to become too much, as you feel your chest tighten and heart ache, there's a brush of skin against the side of your hand, and glancing down, you see that Taehyung's reached over to quietly hook his pinky with yours. You turn to face him, but he keeps his eyes directed on the bride and groom, face neutral and unreadable, and you know he's giving you the chance to pull away, no questions asked.

But the gesture has warmth flooding through you, thawing the ice of your previous thoughts, and so you move to slip your hand under his, lacing your fingers and pressing your palms together tightly.

Taehyung looks at you then, a shy smile crinkling his eyes and twisting up the corners of his mouth, and you grin back, the previous ache in your chest replaced with a steady flutter as he begins to skim his thumb back and forth in a gentle caress.

You stay that way for the rest of the ceremony—watching your friends vow eternity to each other, Taehyung's hand tethered with yours.

Classical music drifts from the speakers at the back of the room as you find your seats for the reception. The ballroom is tremendous, with tall, arched ceilings, a gorgeous chandelier, and a wide dance floor that you’re sure will see a ton of action later. With the tables seating eight, you see that you’ve been placed in a grouping of you, Taehyung, Maya, Jimin, Jungkook, and three of Hoseok’s medical school friends, who introduce themselves as Wonwoo, Joshua, and Mingyu.

Thankfully, your group hits it off immediately. Wonwoo is rather reserved, more an observer of those around him than anything, but Taehyung and Jimin quickly strike up a conversation with Joshua about college after the latter mentions having gone to the same school as you, albeit never crossing paths. Maya and Mingyu, meanwhile, immediately fall into their own introductions, talking about how they know Hoseok and Mingyu’s studies to become a doctor.

“If you ever need a headshot or something, let me know,” Maya says, laying a hand on his arm. Across the table, Jungkook's head shoots up. “I do work as a photographer and would be happy to help.”

“Oh, really?” Mingyu makes no move to remove her hand; if anything, he shifts even closer. “What are your rates?”

“For you? Free of charge. Any friend of Hoseok is a friend of mine.” They're in their own little bubble now, Jungkook watching wide-eyed. “Besides, you'd be doing me a favor. With a face like that, you're a photographer's dream. Perfect model.”

Mingyu smirks. “A face like what?”

“Dangerously handsome.”

“HEY, WHAT DO YOU GUYS WANT TO SPECIALIZE IN?”

Jungkook practically screams it, and not only do Maya and Mingyu turn to look at him in bewilderment, but so does the rest of the table and a few guests in the neighboring seats.

Joshua clears his throat awkwardly, eying Jungkook like he might be rabid. “I’m trying for pediatrics.”

“Surgery,” Wonwoo says.

Maya turns towards her new companion. “What about you, Mingyu?”

He leans back in his chair. Gives a light tug on his tie. “I have a residency lined up in obstetrics and gynecology.”

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me—”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung says, cutting him off as he slides his chair back from the table. “Why don’t you help me get a round of drinks?”

“But—“

“C’mon.” He says it gently, like he’s trying to coax a toddler, and rises to his feet, giving you a gentle tap on the shoulder as he goes. “Cosmo?”

“Yes, please,” you say, and he nods, dropping a quick wink your way as Jungkook joins him, grumbling under his breath.

Joshua watches them walk away in the direction of the bar. “Is he always this…”

“Annoying?” Maya scoffs.

“Transparent.” Wonwoo quietly smirks.

A gentle laugh sounds on your left as Jimin hears. “I don’t know that anyone has ever described Jungkook as subtle in his life.”

Maya frowns, Mingyu looking downright perplexed at her side. “I don’t think I quite understand what’s going on,” he begins, but Maya soothes him with another press of her hand to his arm.

“Don’t worry about him. It doesn’t matter,” she says. “Tell me more about your residency.”

The reception passes in a swirl of music and drinks and food—and oh goodness, the food. Plates heaped with calamari, crab legs, and tiny filets wrapped in bacon are placed at the table by wait staff as your group digs in. Even Jungkook is placated, no longer scowling at Maya and Mingyu.

"Ughhh, I am never eating this well again," Jimin groans, stretching back in his chair and giving an exaggerated rub to his belly.

"You'd best get ready to," Taehyung says from your other side. "This isn't even dinner."

"This isn't even dinner?!"

Dinner turns out to be just as delicious and lavish as the appetizers, and it's no surprise that once dancing starts, your friends opt to stay seated for a while longer talking and digesting. As the party climbs to a full swing, Mingyu asks Maya to dance, Jimin and Jungkook start a debate on whether the butt is one body part or two, and Taehyung excuses himself to the restroom.

“It’s one part that’s split!” Jimin loudly exclaims. “The top is connected!”

“Jimin, go home, stand in front of the mirror, and pull your right ass cheek up. See if your left cheek comes up with it, and then get back to me, you absolute clown.”

“Do they do this a lot?” Joshua asks, the two idiots arguing between you.

“At least once a month.” You take a sip of your drink as you look on, bored. “I’m pretty sure this one is a rerun from last Halloween.”

“It’s one,” Wonwoo says, amused.

A flash of green catches your eye, and you look up to see Taehyung standing by the side of the bar, speaking with a woman. She's about your age, you think, and pretty, wearing a low-cut dress that certainly accentuates her chest.

She and Taehyung are talking excitedly, and you can tell he's putting the charm on—eyes bright, signature boxy smile lighting up his face. Nausea simmers in the pit of your stomach, and you force your attention back towards Jimin and Jungkook, trying to focus on whatever nonsense they're debating now.

This isn't a “date-date,” you remind yourself. And Taehyung hasn't had a relationship in a year—not since he was so torn up after Luna. He deserves to meet someone.

You’re spaced out next to your friends, still only halfway listening to them jabber on about butt cheeks, when a slow song starts up over the speakers and, within seconds, a hand is being extended over your shoulder.

You look up to find Taehyung's eyes gazing steadily down at you, a small but confident smile playing on his lips.

"Dance with me?"

And in spite of the unease that had plagued you only moments ago, you don't hesitate to let him wrap up your small hand in his large one and lead you to the dance floor. His palm settles on your lower back to pull you in close, and maybe it’s the proximity or the intoxicating smell of his cologne that weakens your resolve, but you find the words spilling out.

"Did you get her number?"

Taehyung looks at you quizzically, brow furrowing in confusion. "Whose?"

"The woman at the bar."

His face relaxes as he realizes. "Oh, yeah. I did."

"Good." You manage a smile. Why does it feel so hard? "It really is…good you're getting back out there. Are you going to ask her on a date?"

He laughs, mischief in his eyes. "I don't think her fiancé would like that." And now it's your turn to look confused.

"Her fiancé?"

"I met the two of them through Hoseok a couple times so we've chatted. Nice people." He nods his head, and you look over to see the woman now dancing with a man not too far from you. "They just got engaged, and she knows I'm a photographer so she asked if I'd be interested in doing the wedding. I said I'd call her this week to talk about it."

"Oh." You can feel your face flush, but there's no doubting the relief that floods through you. And Taehyung surely notices, grinning down at you in amusement.

"Were you jealous?"

"No!" you say, but perhaps a little too quickly because Taehyung laughs, his fingers applying a gentle pressure to your back to pull you closer.

"I'm here with you," he murmurs matter-of-factly.

You shake your head at him. "It's fine, Tae. If someone catches your eye…like I said, it could be good—"

"I'm here with you," he repeats, more firmly this time. He releases your hand for a moment to tuck a stray curl behind your ear, and you have to look away. You spot Hoseok and Sunny swaying together in the middle of the dance floor, pressed closely together and smiling at each other like they're the only two people in the world. What it must be like to have someone look at you like that, you think, to hold you like you're something precious to be cherished. You had thought Jace made you feel that way, but now, watching your friends gaze at each other so delicately, so in love, you're no longer sure he even came close.

"What are you looking at?" Taehyung's voice rouses you out of your thoughts, and you suddenly notice his hand has drifted a little higher to where the back of your dress dips down low, exposing your bare skin.

Trying to pass off the shiver that involuntarily runs through you as a nod, you gesture at the newly married couple. "They're so good together."

Taehyung follows your line of sight, watching Hoseok lean down to murmur something in Sunny's ear that makes her giggle and press her face into his chest. "They are."

"Can you imagine loving someone like that?" Your voice is a bare whisper as if the words slipped out on their own accord, like a wish you didn't even realize you were making.

Taehyung's fingers splay at your spine, gently tugging you in until your hips are bumping his. Startled, your eyes snap back to him, breath catching in your chest. He's gazing at you intently, but as opposed to the intense fire that you've seen from him at times, there's only a deep warmth to his brown irises that you're not sure you've ever seen before. He looks at you with softness, with both a sense of familiarity and wonder that can only be attributed to your many years of companionship, and you see it all swimming behind his eyes—every day spent together seeking refuge from your families, every stupid childhood fight, every time you comforted each other through the bad days. And before you can deflect, can explain away the question as a rhetorical slip of the tongue, you hear his answer come out on a breath.

"Yes."

There’s a weight to it, the word landing from his lips like a stone into water, and you suddenly forget where you are. The world around you fades away: faces, music, and noise all receding into the background until it’s just him and you, you and him.

Just like it’s always been.

Taehyung's head dips towards you as if pulled by gravity, and your body responds in turn, hand sliding from his shoulder to the hair at the nape of his neck and eyes fluttering shut. Your breaths mingle together, his nose lightly brushing against yours, and you find yourself on the brink of keening forward, on the brink of diving headfirst into a place of no return, when—

"Hey, we're going to step outside for some air. Do you guys wanna—oh."

You spring apart. Jimin is staring at the two of you, eyes so wide you're worried they might fall out of his head. His hand is still half-raised, pointing in the direction of the doors behind him, and you use this to make your escape.

"Yeah sounds good I'll come outside definitely," you babble before speeding towards the exit. Glancing back over your shoulder, you see Jimin say something animatedly to Taehyung, but the latter shakes his head and mumbles something back, his face pink.

The night air is cool on your skin, and you could not be more grateful for it because what the fuck was that?

Were you really about to kiss your best friend? Or was he going to kiss you? Things had certainly been…different between you two recently, but this surely would have been an awful idea. If something went wrong or there was a misunderstanding, you'd likely never be able to come back from it.

He said he doesn't have feelings for you.

…But do you have feelings for him?

Maybe yes, his smile has always set your heart alight unlike anything else and yes, your brain seems to have been lingering recently on how damn handsome he is and yes, you'd do anything for him at the drop of a hat—follow him anywhere—but given your history, of course you would, right? He's your best friend.

And he deserves to be more than a rebound. Because that's what this must be—lingering heartbreak amplified by the emotions of a wedding. You may have even imagined Taehyung leaning towards you, a desperate fantasy of a mind just wanting to be loved.

That's it, you decide. Your brain must have finally snapped into a world of delusion.

You're so caught up in your thoughts that you don't hear Jungkook approach you, practically jumping out of your skin when he places a gentle hand on your arm.

"Y/N—shit—you okay?" He looks at you with his big doe eyes wide and apologetic.

"Yeah," you say, as your racing heart begins to calm. "You just startled me."

"Sorry, I tried to call you, but I don't think you heard. We're back over there if you want to join us." He nods his head in the direction of a patio area behind him, and you spot Namjoon, Joshua, and Wonwoo sitting around a table next to an elegant fountain, its ornamental lights illuminating the magnificent swan sitting atop it. They’re all laughing and, for some reason, the sight makes your chest tighten.

"Um, maybe in a little bit. I think I might just need a walk right now."

Jungkook studies you, biting ever so slightly into his bottom lip, and you think you see something in the way of understanding behind his eyes (you wonder if it has anything to do with the notable absence of Maya and Mingyu). "Do you want company?"

When you just give him a small smile and shake your head, he nods.

"Okay, well…you know where to find us." He moves to rejoin the others, but then turns back towards you, taking easy steps on his heels. "And just shout if you need a friend."

You meander around the outside of the hotel, following the stone path that paves its way around the perimeter. There's a certain kind of peace out here. Though the summer is nearing its close, you can still hear crickets chirping in the grass and spot the occasional firefly dangling in the air. You focus on the swishing of the cars out on the main road and try to let the sound clear your mind, but as you settle on a short brick wall overlooking the property's enormous lake, you realize it's no use.

Your eyes drift closed as you sink into the grief once again, let it slowly overtake you like quicksand until your lungs are crushed and burning. But more than anything, you’re simply exhausted—perpetually drained by the demons which have once again arrived to feast on your psyche.

At this point, you think most of your frustration lies with yourself. Maybe you’re being overdramatic, maybe you should be over it by now—if only you were stronger, more resilient. Not the miserable pushover you feel you’ve turned out to be. Harsh? Yes. Unfair? Perhaps. This does feel like the breaking point in your life’s long line of abandonments, digging up feelings you haven’t felt since you were a child.

But that being said, it also makes you feel like you should be used to it by now. Should be used to having to bounce back—what else can you expect from the world at this point, really? What a fool you were to even think that this time would be different.

The sound of quiet footsteps has you opening your eyes again, and you’re not sure whether the man in front of you is the first or last person you want to see right now.

Taehyung has his hands in his pockets, watching you with that calculated expression he always has on when he’s trying to gauge your mood. But all you can see in his face on your end is concern, not a hint of awkwardness or trepidation after what just transpired between the two of you in the ballroom.

So it really must have been all in your head.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Kook said you seemed upset.”

“I’m fine.” You try to push out a smile, but he unsurprisingly sees right through it, closing the gap between you and gesturing at the spot to your right.

“Mind if I sit?”

You’re still not entirely in the mood for company but you can’t bring yourself to say no to him, so you give the tiniest of nods and Taehyung settles on the wall next to you.

The two of you sit in silence for a bit, the buzz of the surrounding trees continuing its serenade. Taehyung doesn’t push, doesn’t say anything, only provides a steady presence. On particularly bad days when you were kids, you’d both wander down to the local playground and sit on the swings for a while. Sometimes you’d talk—either to rant and let it all out or make each other laugh to distract yourselves—but most nights, you’d just sit in the quiet and enjoy the feeling of not being alone.

It feels like that now, with Taehyung’s warmth radiating at your shoulder and the stars hanging above, but tonight, you’re compelled to speak.

“I’m really pathetic, huh?”

Taehyung’s eyes flash as he looks over at you, but he doesn’t interrupt, sensing you want to say more.

“I’m at my friends’ wedding, I’m supposed to be celebrating them and their love for each other, and instead I’m out here having a pity party.” You scoff. “It’s pathetic and selfish.”

“First of all, we are out here having a pity party,” Taehyung begins, and it draws a sudden laugh from you that you think sounds halfway deranged, but he only smiles.

"Secondly, you're not pathetic, and you're not selfish. You just went through a traumatic event, you know? You're allowed to have emotions."

"I know, but I just don't…want to," you sigh. "I just want it all to stop. I'm so tired of feeling weighed down especially on a day like this, but it's like it just doesn't end. The reminders don't end."

"You thought he'd be here," Taehyung says softly, and though his head nods slightly in understanding, his voice is tinged with sadness. "You miss him."

"I—that's not exactly it, no," you quickly say, not wanting him to think that you somehow regret being here with him. "Given what he did…like you’ve said, it's not forgivable, so it's not like I wish he was here. I mean, sure, are there some days where I reflexively think about him and stuff? Of course—we were together for four years—but I…still would prefer to never see him again."

Taehyung lets out a short sigh that you interpret as approval, but he stays quiet, giving you time to work out your thoughts.

"I think it's more the loss of security than anything. Seeing Hoseok and Sunny up at the alter…I couldn't help thinking that I was so, so close to that—to having that one person that I could commit to walking through life with. A partner, a friend, just someone to have day-in and day-out. Forever." You choke up, a fresh wave of tears lodging in your throat that you try to keep down. Taehyung is stiff next to you, staring down at his hands in his lap.

"And I want that, Tae. I want that so bad. But it's…so scary to start from scratch after feeling that close. I feel like I'm losing my mind. I'm just constantly overwhelmed and feel like I can't outrun it, and then I feel guilty on days like this because I shouldn't be letting it get to me, and—"

"Hey, hey, Y/N, shhhh." Taehyung finally jumps in as you begin to spiral, reaching out to take your hand in his. "You don't have to worry or feel guilty because you are going to have all of that. Okay? You will."

"You can't know that."

"I do." He slips his pinky around yours briefly before his hand comes up to cup your jaw, guiding your eyes to his. "I promise you. I don't know how far out it'll be, but one day we'll all be together again at a place like this, and it'll be your turn." He gets a faraway look in his eye, seemingly perceiving something that you're struggling to even grab a glimpse of right now. "It'll be everything you've ever dreamed of—intimate and outdoors, right? I know you always said growing up that you were going to get married at the Spring Day Gardens. If you still want it, it'll be yours."

You let his words draw you in, painting you a picture so beautiful you're afraid to even let your heart believe in it. But his baritone voice presses on.

"And it'll be perfect. Not a cloud in the sky—nothing but sunshine. And we'll all be there, and you'll have your favorite lily bouquet and your perfect dress…"

Something stops him, and he blinks at you, dropping his palm from your face and glancing away at the lights from the party before resuming his tale.

"And the guy…" He licks his lips, and you feel the hand that's still holding yours tighten ever so slightly. "He's going to love you so much. Properly love you. He's going to see you come down that aisle and weep because he's just going to know that he's the luckiest guy in the universe. And if he doesn't cry right away, I'll kick him in the shins up there until he does because in spite of what Jimin and Jungkook think, we all know that I'm actually your best man."

You let out a watery giggle, the tears flowing freely now, and Taehyung reaches up to swipe a few off your cheeks, letting out a chuckle of his own.

"I want to believe you," you say quietly. "And hopefully one day I will. I just…I need more time."

"Whatever you need, you know I'm here for you," he murmurs, and you nod.

You fall back into silence for a few moments, Taehyung dutifully continuing to hold your hand while you lightly sniffle and wipe at your cheeks.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to go back to the party like this—I think you ruined my make-up," you joke, trying to lighten the mood.

"Maybe, but you're the prettiest raccoon I've ever seen."

You laugh in earnest now, your shoulders shaking with it, and Taehyung smiles at you before suddenly rising to his feet.

"Wait here," he says, and then he's jogging back up towards the venue.

The silence envelops you again as you continue to mull over Taehyung's vision. Your battered heart is hesitant to dream, all of your imaginings coming in with fuzzy edges and blurry details that you just can't seem to place. But you're sure Taehyung was definitely right about one thing—you can't imagine a situation where you get married without him standing by your side.

It's a handful of minutes later when the man himself finally reappears with a hand behind his back and a mischievous smile on his face. When you raise your eyebrows at him in question, he comes to a halt in front of you and presents a full fifth of your favorite whiskey.

"What do you say we get out of here?"

The dim hotel lights cast a soft glow about the room as you and Taehyung pass the bottle back and forth, the mood significantly more casual than the extravagant party you just ditched. The decor may be fancy—Hoseok and Sunny certainly didn’t skimp when it came to location—but the two of you are perfectly rumpled, stretched out on the expensive sheets: you having removed your make-up and changed into your pajamas and Taehyung propped up against the headboard with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his jacket and tie tossed over the couch.

You’ve started up a game of Truth or Drink, a somewhat milder version of Truth or Dare, where you get to take turns asking each other questions, and the respondent has the chance to either answer the question or take a mouthful of whiskey. Normally, between you and Taehyung, such a game would be low stakes, with your shared years and few secrets between you making it hard to ask challenging questions. But something about tonight and the need for a distraction seems to have made both of you competitive, going for questions that you know the other wouldn’t want to answer.

“What was the last thing you cried about?”

“One thing you don’t like about me?”

“Favorite position?”

“Did you really lose your virginity in a tree house?”

“What’s your greatest fear?”

"If you could have anything in the world right now, what would it be?"

"Oh God, one of those cupcakes from Sweet Night Bakery," you groan. It was a place you had passed every day on the way to school, the wafting scents of cookies and cakes playing pied piper to your youthful noses. You had always dreamed of one day being able to afford the expensive pastries but had fled your hometown before having the adult money to do so.

"Seriously? Anything in the world and you want a cupcake?" Taehyung laughs, pink tongue poking out from behind his teeth.

"It's not just anything, it's one of my life's dreams," you counter, playfully shaking a fist at him for emphasis, but Taehyung seems unconvinced. "Fine then, if you have such a good answer. Same question."

He tilts his head at you, a mild haze in his eyes that tells you that while he's not drunk-drunk, he's definitely tipsy. A beat passes and he takes a drink.

"Ooh, mysterious," you slur. "But I win."

"Alright, alright." He grins at you. "I concede to your sugary dreams."

You mirror his smile, observe the way his fingers curl in his lap as you try to think of your next question. He’s always had nice hands—so delicate and careful with everything he touches. It’s odd, you think, how such gentleness could emerge from a home and upbringing that was anything but. How someone as bright as Taehyung could come from such darkness.

“Do you want kids one day?”

The question takes him by surprise when you ask it, and he physically startles, turning the bottle in his hands slowly. “I don’t know. Why?” He looks at you then, and you feel like you can see a riddle being worked out in his head. “Where did that question come from?”

“I don’t know,” you echo. “You spent so much time earlier imagining a future for me. I realized that we’ve never really talked about what you want for yourself outside of your career.”

Growing up, you’d discussed your dreams for the future, of course. But while you have always skewed towards the romantic, envisioning rings and weddings and vows, Taehyung’s always been much more practical and career-oriented—his plans always involved degrees and promotions and retirement funds.

A beat passes as he continues to fidget with the whiskey bottle before he again says, “I’m really not sure.”

“Well think about it now,” you challenge. “Or drink up.”

He chuckles to himself, some private joke in his head. “It would terrify me, I think. But I’d love them with everything I’ve got. Want to give them everything I didn’t have and be better than my parents were.”

You hum in agreement; you’ve had the same thoughts on occasion. Some who grew up in your situation may have been turned off the idea of children—and the idea does scare you in certain respects—but you’ve always been stubborn. “It’d be a chance to prove that it doesn’t have to be that hard. That you didn’t deserve what you went through.”

Fingers graze against yours in a subtle show of kinship. As always, you understand each other. “Exactly.”

And he may be struggling to imagine it, but you can see it so clearly: a small boy with big, brown eyes and a boxy smile riding on Taehyung’s shoulders. The two of them playing in the sand at the beach house or walking down the street together—the boy’s tiny hand tucked safely in his father’s.

The image chokes you up, fills you with so much warmth you think you might burst.

“You’d be an amazing father, Tae.”

There’s not a single doubt in your mind about it—that this incredible, thoughtful, selfless man would also be a wonderful dad. He doesn’t look so sure, but a flicker of recognition passes through him.

“You’ve said that to me once before,” he murmurs.

“I did?”

A nod. “One time when you were drunk junior year.”

You don’t remember it, the memory lost to the alcohol. “I guess drunk me has flashes of brilliance.”

“Maybe we’ll see someday.”

“I hope we will.”

Suddenly nervous, he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing in the long column of his neck. “But it’d have to be with the right person.”

“Has there ever been anyone who you thought was close?”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You’re asking a disproportionate amount of questions.”

Reaching over, you pull the bottle from his hands, drink down a mouthful of burning liquor, and set it right back in his lap. “Answer.”

Wide eyes appraise you through the dim light; he looks almost impressed. “No.”

“No, there’s never been someone you could see a future with, or no, you won’t answer?”

“The first one,” he says. “I’ve never been with someone I could imagine having kids with.”

You frown, the blunt despondence in his tone cutting. “Not even Luna?”

A look is thrown your way—pursed lips and creased brow telling you that’s a stupid question.

“What happened with her?”

He scoffs, lips immediately wrapping around the bottle as he takes a gulp.

“So something did happen.”

“We broke up,” he states. “That’s what happened.”

“Yeah, but you’ve never said why.”

He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. As if you’ve just asked him what he wants for dinner and not why the longest relationship of his life ended. “We weren’t compatible.”

You can’t help but sigh, a small part of you hurt that he still refuses to talk about it, that he’s closed this part of himself off to you. “You don’t trust me?”

“Y/N, no.” He shakes his head, looking genuinely remorseful to have given you that impression. “That’s not it. It’s just…impossibly complicated—“

“Was it me?” You’re suddenly reminded of a conversation with Maya from weeks ago, when she’d suggested that you were the reason all of Taehyung’s relationships had failed.

His lips part, tongue pushing into his cheek like he’s trying to hold words back.

“It was, wasn’t it?” you push, and his teeth dig into his tongue now, chewing. “You can tell me. I can handle i—“

“You were part of it, yes.”

In spite of what you’ve just said, the words land like a blow. You’ve spent years watching him go through breakup after breakup, and now you find out that you were a source of that anguish all along—helped fuel that heartbreak in his life.

It pains you to think you’ve been holding him back.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” you whisper.

“Because there was nothing to tell. It didn’t matter.”

“It does matter, Tae. If I’m getting in the way of your relationships…I want you to be happy.”

“You make me happy.”

That silences you, the sincerity in his voice leaving you blinking at him, and he continues.

“She didn’t like how close we are—most of them haven’t. But it doesn’t matter because at the end of the day, I’ll always choose you. And that’s the end of it. Nothing left to tell.”

You feel like you should protest this, insist on him putting himself and his future first.

But given similar circumstances, wouldn’t you do the same for him?

“Did Jace ever give you shit about us?” he asks, reading your mind.

He had, ranting about Taehyung that night in some fucked up attempt to explain away why you’d found him in bed with another woman. Before then, you hadn’t noticed the signs: hadn’t picked up on his reluctance to spend time with your friends, hadn’t read into the way he stuck close to your side on the rare occasions he did, a possessive arm always tight around your waist.

It all made sense afterwards, and you hate that the vulnerability and anguish of the moment made you question your own actions. You never would’ve shut Taehyung out—never in a million years—but it initially made you think that maybe if you’d been more attentive towards Jace, had been more sensitive to his feelings, that maybe you wouldn’t have wound up in the situation you did.

You recognize now that he didn’t deserve it in the end, obviously, but heartbreak is a funny thing.

Not wanting to have to admit to any of that out loud, you whisk the bottle from Taehyung’s hands again and drink. He watches the movement of your throat with heavy, knowing eyes, immediately taking the whiskey back for his own sip once you’ve finished.

“I must admit,” he says, the alcohol clearly loosening his tongue as he sags against the headboard. “I’m a little relieved about things ending for you and Jace. Aside from him being a certified douchebag, I mean.”

You frown, not sure where he’s going with this, and the look on your face must come across as offense because he’s quick to clarify.

“Not that I liked seeing you hurt.” He shakes his head, and you can see some anger at the situation still lingering under the surface. “No, never. But I just…now I get to keep you longer at least.”

“Keep me?”

“Yeah, this…” He wags a finger between you. “You know this has to end one day, right?”

The whiskey should be warming, but your veins fill with ice at his words. Losing Jace was one thing. Losing Taehyung would be a different matter entirely.

“You’re always going to have me,” you say, reaching for his pinky.

But he pulls his hand away.

“Not like this.” He smiles with what you assume to be intended comfort, but his entire demeanor is tainted with sadness. “One day, when you have the dream guy and the family and the white picket fence, there won’t be room for me. Not like this.”

It feels like earlier—him trying to paint you a picture of a possible future for you—but unlike earlier, you can’t picture this future. You don’t want it. Not if he’s not there.

“Tae—“

“It’s okay, Y/N.” He gives another sad smile, takes another drink. “No husband is going to want a third wheel hanging around. I understand. I want you to be happy, too.”

But you wouldn’t be happy without him, and in many ways, you’ve always known that to be true. But that knowledge hits you now with such force, such raw truth, that it renders you speechless and leaves you staring at him, drunken eyes laser-focused as if discovering the very center of the universe.

You want to challenge him on his statement, make him see that he’s wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. But the alcohol muddles your thoughts, has your brain dropping half-formed sentences through your mind like Scrabble pieces that you can’t quite wrangle into a coherent thought.

Taehyung takes your silence for agreement and, seeming to suddenly realize that some kind of line has just been crossed, takes the quiet opportunity to flip the conversation back to your game.

“The shoes you gave me for my seventeenth birthday,” he begins, the words tipping out slow and oddly calculated for someone who’s had as much to drink as he has. “Where did the money come from?”

You know where he’s going with this. And it’s perhaps the only secret you’ve kept from him in the entirety of your friendship. “Christmas money, I told you.”

“No, really.”

“Why don’t you believe me?”

“I never saw that house decorated for Christmas even once.”

“Could’ve been from an aunt or uncle.”

“But it wasn’t, was it?”

It wasn’t. You snuck the money out of your father’s desk one day knowing that he wouldn’t have even noticed it was missing. Absent-minded in everything aside from work, your father had misplaced things constantly. You drink. And even though it’s supposed to be an avoidance of the question, it gives him his answer.

“I knew it.”

“They weren’t going to miss it, and you needed it more.”

“You could’ve gotten in so much trouble.”

“I knew I wouldn’t. I didn’t. And it was worth the risk regardless.”

Looking back, you wish you’d had more of a fear of getting caught—wish your parents would’ve scolded you, screamed at you, anything. It would’ve been better than the indifference you’d been met with day in and day out. As if you were invisible.

Taehyung’s head swings from side-to-side. “You shouldn’t have. I would’ve been okay.”

“And you shouldn’t have punched Jace in that club, but you did anyway, didn’t you?”

“That’s different.”

“It’s not. You’re not the only one who gets to put your ass on the line for the people you care about. You were worth the risk.”

He blinks, regarding you as if you’ve presented him with some outlandish concept. Like you’ve asked him to explain rocket science or open-heart surgery. “Then you should’ve told me then.”

“You would’ve given them back.”

“Maybe, but then at least we would’ve been in it together instead of you lying to me.”

“And you’ve never lied to me?”

He hesitates, tongue tracing his bottom lip. “No.”

“Okay, then. Truth or drink: what’s the worst lie you’ve ever told?”

You know there must be one, can read it in the way his shoulder is suddenly pressed against yours as he tilts into you. Fingertips skim the bare skin of your knee, tentative in their movements, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath as the distance between you closes to mere centimeters, his gaze roaming your face and snagging on your mouth.

And you feel it—the pull that you’ve always felt towards him, the gravitational force that’s kept you in the same orbit since you were children. Two souls that intertwined the moment they sensed the other’s presence with a flash of awareness and said, You, you, you.

Thinking back on the entirety of your life, you don’t know how you possibly could have made it through without him: your best friend, your partner, your sanctuary. In such a volatile world—a turbulent youth marred by uncertainty and sorrow—he took your hand and held you steady, made sure you didn’t go through it alone.

In hindsight, you can’t truly regret it. Yes, there will always be a part of you that will resent your parents, wish that they would have loved you enough to spare you the hurt and stress they put you through. But just like the night when he brought you back to your apartment—held you close as you fell asleep in his embrace—your memories with him far outweigh the trauma you endured. When you think of your time spent growing up, he is by far the brightest star, outshining any darkness that may have lingered at the corners. It’s not the empty house or your parents’ stony faces that you think of first, but him: blanket forts and starry nights and walks in the park and blurry photographs and sometimes tears, sure, but only with him there to hold you.

Looking at this man in front of you, in every familiar line of his face and body, you know, without a crumb of doubt, that you’d do it all again. Screw Jace and Luna and your parents and anyone else who’s expressed disdain at your closeness with him. He’s written into every line of your history, every memory that’s worth something. And he may fight you on it, but he’s worth every risk you’ve ever taken—you would’ve stolen a thousand pairs of shoes for him. You’d move mountains and drain the oceans if he needed you to. You’d do anything.

You couldn’t live without him. You don’t want to live without him.

A moment of clarity, a wave of revelation as you lock eyes and are met with your favorite color. And at long last, you find the words.

I love you.

Your heart throws itself off a cliff…

And you lean in to press your lips to his.

NEXT

a/n: happy holidays to all who celebrate 😊