#i just will never get over how we are required to spend most of our waking hours in our one single life working just to survive

[termitesisagrandslam]

well i am officially employed again. 40+ hour work week here we come 🙃

[kaijuno]

"No piece of art has ever emotionally affected me the way this robot arm piece has. It's programmed to try to contain the hydraulic fluid that’s constantly leaking out and required to keep itself running...if too much escapes, it will die so it's desperately trying to pull it back to continue to fight for another day. Saddest part is they gave the robot the ability to do these 'happy dances' to spectators. When the project was first launched it danced around spending most of its time interacting with the crowd since it could quickly pull back the small spillage. Many years later... (as you see it now in the video) it looks tired and hopeless as there isn't enough time to dance anymore.. It now only has enough time to try to keep itself alive as the amount of leaked hydraulic fluid became unmanageable as the spill grew over time. Living its last days in a never-ending cycle between sustaining life and simultaneously bleeding out... (Figuratively and literally as its hydraulic fluid was purposefully made to look like it's actual blood).

"The robot arm finally ran out of hydraulic fluid in 2019, slowly came to a halt and died - And I am now tearing up over a friggin robot arm 😭 It was programmed to live out this fate and no matter what it did or how hard it tried, there was no escaping it. Spectators watched as it slowly bled out until the day that it ceased to move forever. Saying that 'this resonates' doesn't even do it justice imo. Created by Sun Yuan & Peng Yu, they named the piece, 'Can't Help Myself'. What a masterpiece. What a message."

Extended interpretations: the hydraulic fluid in relation to how we kill ourselves both mentally and physically for money just in an attempt to sustain life, how the system is set up for us to fail on purpose to essentially enslave us and to steal the best years of our lives to play the game that the richest people of the world have designed. How this robs us of our happiness, passion and our inner peace. How we are slowly drowning with more responsibilities, with more expected of us, less rewarding pay-offs and less free time to enjoy ourselves with as the years go by. How there's really no escaping the system and that we were destined at birth to follow a pretty specific path that was already laid out before us. How we can give and give and give and how easily we can be forgotten after we've gone.. How we are loved and respected when we are valuable, then one day we aren't any longer and we become a burden...and how our young, free-caring spirit gets stolen from us as we get churned out of the broken system that we are trapped inside of. Can also be seen to represent the human life cycle and the fact that none of us make it out of this world alive. But also can act as a reminder to allow yourself to heal, rest and love with all of your heart. That the endless chase for 'more' isn't necessary in finding your own inner happiness.”

[sapphire-writes]

The Au Pair (modern!HOTD) part 1

Part 1 ~ Part 2

pairing: Daemon x fem!Reader x Rhaenyra

summary: You take a new job nannying for a family on the Upper East Side. You find yourself intrigued by both parents.

warnings: 18+ (slight power imbalance as they're your bosses, sensual themes), language

word count: 3.1k

note: I've been in a Daemon x Rhae mood and this idea came to me and suddenly it is here, enjoy my loves!

When you looked up at the high-rise apartment building, you felt your stomach drop. You had always been that way with heights, whether looking down or looking up at something tall, the feeling of intense vertigo washing over you. You took in a deep breath to steady yourself, draining the rest of your coffee before walking in. 

Throwing the cup in a nearby bin, you popped a mint into your mouth to hopefully disguise your coffee breath. 

You’d nannied before but never au-paired. It seemed to be a little more intense, having you live with the family, and become a part of the family. But you had to get out of your current living situation, and the website was too tempting to pass up. 

You didn’t even think you’d get a response when you sent in your resume. You recognized the family name; old money, the backbone of Wall Street. It was too good to be true when you received an email inviting you in person for an interview.

Still, the thought of caring for three boys was nearly overwhelming. 

“You’ll only truly be a little help,” Rhaenyra had told you, after leading you through the foyer, giving you hot tea in a cup that felt so delicate it might break in your small hands. 

Rhaenyra had ushered you to the sofa, before sitting in the one directly across. She crossed her ankles, clad in a dark maroon suit, her silver hair striking against the wine-colored fabric. She was ethereally beautiful, the kind of pretty that takes your breath away. 

“Luke and Joff are the littles, they require the most attention,” Rhaenyra explained.

You take a sip of the tea, warmth flooding through you.

“How old are they?” you ask, blowing on the tea. 

“Jacaerys is the oldest, he’s nine, then there’s Luke who is seven, and little Joffrey is only four,” Rhaenyra tells you.

“No girls?” you ask and she shakes her head. 

“Daemon’s daughters Baela and Rhaena sometimes visit during the week, they’re nine as well. They live with their mother mostly, and often spend the weekends with us.”

“You have a full house,” you comment, smiling.

“Several,” Rhaenyra answers, mirroring your smile, “We have two apartments here, in the city, during the weekends we go to our house, outside of the city.”

“That’s wonderful, that you’re able to get away,” you tell her, “the city can be overwhelming.”

“I agree,” she says, “it’s nice to have an escape. So, tell me about yourself,” she cocks her head to the side, “what made you want this position?”

You sigh, deciding it's best to be truthful.

“Well, I’ve worked with kids before, on and off,” you begin, “some babysitting, nannying, I was a camp counselor for one summer.”

Rhaenyra nods, her violet eyes warm and inviting.

“I also, just recently lost my apartment,” you tell her, “it’s a long story, but I need to be out by the end of the month, so a job that comes with a place to live was very tempting.”

Rhaenyra smiles, and you nervously play with the rings on your fingers. 

“I can be really good with the kids, I think we’ll get along great.”

Rhaenyra looks you up and down as the door opens. The most beautiful man you’ve ever seen walks in, throwing his briefcase on the counter. His silver hair falls in front of his eyes as he leans against the counter, tapping his ring-clad fingers against the black marble.

“Daemon,” she calls, not turning around, “meet our guest.”

Daemon simply glances at you, busy with something on his phone.

“He’ll warm up, don’t you worry,” Rhaenya says, standing.

“I won’t let you down if given this opportunity,” you tell her, placing your teacup down and standing to leave.

“I know you won’t,” she says, taking your arm to lead you to the door, “let me discuss with my husband, and we’ll let you know.”

“Thank you, truly,” you tell her at the door, “It was nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Please, call me Rhaenyra,” she insists.

“Rhaenyra,” you say, and she leads you out.

Rhaenyra sighs, returning to the couch and flipping through your resume once more. 

“I’m shocked you let her leave,” Daemon says, dropping a kiss on Rhaenyra’s head, and squeezing her shoulder with a ring-clad hand.

“She’ll be back,” Rhaenyra assures him, “I’m taking it slow.”

“Surprising,” Daemon says, “with her calling you ma’am so sweetly.”

Rhaenyra merely glances up at him, smiling coyly at her husband. 

“I’ll give her a call this evening then,” Rhaneyra says, kissing the back of his hand, “officially offer her the job?”

“Call her now, if you like,” Daemon tells her.

“She’s probably still in the building,” Rhaenyra says with a chuckle.

“Even better,” Daemon says.

Rhaenyra hums, pulling out her phone.

“Someone’s eager,” Rhaenyra teases, earning a low growl from her husband.

After celebratory drinks with your girlfriends and packing all your shit into boxes, a car picks you up bringing you to your new home. You’re shown to your room by one of the housekeepers. It’s perfect for you, with large windows and a private bathroom. The bed feels like heaven as you lay on top of it. You can’t believe your luck. 

You’re introduced to the boys when they come home from school. While Jace is apprehensive, Luke warms to you right away, insisting on showing you his collection of Lego model sets. Dragons are his favorite at the moment. You spend the afternoon with them, and the day flies by. 

Only when you’re in your room later, fresh out of the shower and dressed for bed do you realize you’ve lost something rather important in the move. You silently curse, and pad down the hallway toward the home office Rhaenyra uses. 

“Mrs. Targaryen?” you ask, knocking on the office door.

Rhaenyra beckons you in, smiling, removing her blue light glasses and looking away from the computer. 

“I’m so sorry to bother you-”

“Nonsense, darling, what is it?” Rhaenyra says, lacing her fingers together, “and what did I say about addressing me?”

You blush, forgetting yourself. You find it easy to get flustered in Rhaenyra’s presence. 

“I’m sorry, Rhaenyra,” you correct yourself.

“You don’t have to say sorry,” she tells you.

Her tone is so sweet, so kind, and loving that it almost makes you want to apologize again. You release a breathy laugh instead. 

“I seem to have lost my hairbrush in the move,” you tell her, “you wouldn’t happen to have an extra one lying around?”

Rhaenyra stands, walking out from behind her desk and toward you. 

“Of course, come here,” she tells you, reaching for your hand.

It's warm and soft as she interlaces her fingers with yours, pulling you out of the home office and down the hallway. You haven’t yet seen Daemon and Rhaenyra’s room, though you realize this is about to change. She opens the door and brings you into their room. 

You can’t help but gawk at windows that stretch from the floor to the ceiling revealing the New York City skyline. The curtains are still open, revealing the sparkling city below. Daemon is already seated in bed on top of the covers reading, looking up as you enter with Rhaenyra. 

“Already?” he asks, and Rhaenyra shushes him.

“Our friend is without a hairbrush,” she says, releasing your hand and moving to enter the master bathroom. 

Daemon hums at her response, returning to his book. The bed is huge, big enough to comfortably fit the whole family if they wanted. The sheets are a deep gray, and look like they’re made of the softest silk. You almost want to reach out and touch them, feel the softness when Rhaenyra reenters the room.

“Sit,” she tells you, motioning to the bed.

“That’s okay,” you assure her, “I can-”

“It’s the least I can do,” she interrupts.

You want to argue with her. They’re letting you live in a gorgeous highrise on the Upper East Side and essentially want for nothing, and yet they’re the ones who are grateful? You suppose it just shows what good parents they are, wanting nothing but the best for the boys. It warms your heart knowing you can help support them in that way. 

Rhaenyra motions to the bed once more and you sit down on the edge. You know immediately that sleeping in that bed would cure any problems you’ve ever had. It’s so soft against you and you run your hand over the sheets. Rhaenyra sits next to you, crossing her legs. 

“Turn for me,” she says, and you move so your back faces her. 

She takes your hair, still wet from your shower, and runs her hands through it gently. You can feel her nails against your scalp causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. She moves the hair from your neck before gently beginning to brush through your hair. It’s so relaxing your eyes flutter shut. 

Daemon is watching now, closing his book and leaning his head back against the headboard. Rhaenyra meets his gaze and his eyes narrow. She flicks an eyebrow at him, continuing. Daemon sticks his tongue against his cheek before rising from the bed. You open your eyes as you feel him move, watching as you walk by you, stopping to press a kiss against Rhaenyra’s cheek.

He heads into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door as you hear the shower turn on. Rhaenyra places the brush on your lap.

“There you are,” she tells you, placing her hands on your shoulder and squeezing.

“Thank you,” you tell her earnestly. 

Her kindness brings tears to your eyes and you find yourself wanting to hug her, bury your face in the crook of her neck, and have her lavish your face with kisses. The thought brings a blush to your cheeks. She’s your boss. Still, as you get up to leave and bid her goodnight, you find your gaze falling to her lips. You look away quickly.

“Thank you again, Rhaenyra,” you tell her, “For everything. I’m really grateful for this opportunity.”

Rhaenyra smiles, smoothing some hair from your face.

“We’re happy to have you,” she tells you, “Goodnight, my dear.”

“Goodnight,” you tell her, leaving the room and heading to your own.

Daemon reappears with wet hair and a towel around his waist. Droplets of water cling to his chest and shoulders. Rhaenyra smirks at him.

“Enjoy your cold shower?” she teases and he chuckles in response. 

The following week is a test run, seeing how you handle the boys and their schedule. It’s easy enough-no scarily easy. The boys are a dream, so well behaved and respectful toward you, and enjoying the attention that is devoted to them while their mother and stepfather are busy working. 

Your schedule is simple. Wake up, make sure the boys get their breakfast, escort them to school, and then the rest of the morning and early afternoon is yours. Rhaenyra has assured you that sometimes she shall give you some errands to run, but for the most part, you’re free to ponder around different coffee shops and bookstores and attend your university classes. 

You pick up Joffrey first, as his daycare releases him in the early afternoon, and bring him on a walk. Then you wait for Jace and Luke to end their school days and escort them to their afterschool activities. You almost feel bad for Rhaenyra and Daemon, like you’re taking advantage of them somehow. It shouldn’t be this easy, right? It can’t be this perfect?

You’re still lost in your thoughts while you sit on a park bench watching Joffrey toddle about on a play structure as someone sits down beside you. You blink, pulled from your thoughts, giving her a kind smile. 

“You’re the new Targaryen AP, right?” the girl asks, smiling at you.

“Yeah!” you answer, telling her your name. 

“I’m Shae,” she tells you, “The Lannister’s Au Pair.”

You nod. You’ve heard that name before. Shae points at a little girl with golden curls on the swings. 

“Cerelle Lannister, one of the little lions I look after,” she says chuckling. 

She motions for your phone.

“Here, let me put in my number,” she tells you, and you smile while handing her your phone, “We have to stick together, you know?”

“Thanks,” you tell her, “I’d love to get coffee sometime and get some advice. This is my first time being an Au Pair.”

Shae raises an eyebrow as she adds her number. 

“Good luck with the Targaryens,” she tells you chuckling, “they can’t seem to hold onto an AP for more than a month.”

Your brow furrows and you glance at the boys. You can see Jace running across the soccer field and Luke on the other side with the younger boys. Joffrey plays on the playground, staying in your line of sight. You can’t help but smile.

“I don’t see why,” you tell her, “the boys are great. Very well behaved, impressive manners. Better than me.”

Shae laughs. 

“It’s Daemon and Rhaenyra I’d be wary of,” Shae tells you, voice lowering with the nature of the conversation, “the last girl they had was doing fine until suddenly she’s signing an NDA and being shipped out of New York. I never spoke to her again.”

A chill rolls through you. 

Jace calls your name, running over to you.

“Did you see what I did!” he says, a huge grin on his face, Luke trailing behind him.

“You were so awesome Jacey!” you tell him, ruffling his hair.

They’ve warmed up to you immediately. 

You keep thinking about what Shae said all night. When you join the kids for dinner, Rhaenyra and Daemon do not, as they ended up having to work late. When you tuck them in and return to your room you find a small box on your bed. 

You open it, revealing a small necklace. Dainty, and expensive, with a small pearl hanging off the chain. 

A gift. 

You pick up the card that goes with it.

For all your help, xx

There’s no signature. Though you suppose it must be from Rhaenyra. You blush at the kind gesture before retiring to bed for the night, curling up in the soft sheets with a book.

The next few weeks go smoothly, and without any fusses. The boys are lovely as ever and easy to drag around to different parks, activities, and school functions. They’re starting to feel like your little brothers, like your own children even. You journey with them to the weekend house, an hour outside the city, roasting marshmallows, swimming in the gorgeous pool, and taking them to get ice cream. It’s paradise, it’s a dream. 

You see Rhaenyra more than Daemon, though she was right. He does seem to be warming up to you, glancing at you more, checking in on you. Sitting with you when you’re at the counter for breakfast. Letting a hand drift across your back as he passes by.

You keep finding gifts. A silk robe, a new purse, a pair of earrings that match the necklace given to you. Fresh flowers by your bedside. It’s very sweet of them, to be so welcoming. Almost romantic. 

Later one night during the week, you can’t seem to find sleep.

You make your way to the kitchen, feet padding softly down the hallway. Rhaenyra had said to help yourself to anything, what’s theirs is yours. You’d been craving something sweet since dinner. Since moving into the highrise your palate has begun to adjust to the rich, expensive foods the chef makes and has begun to spoil you. You’re starting to wonder how you’ll ever go back to living normally when this job ends. It’s not something you want to think about. You’re determined to stay as long as possible. 

You open the fridge, the light bathing the floor in front of you. You look around, moving things trying to find a treat. Their fridge is crazy stocked, full of fresh fruits and vegetables, and green juices. Things that sound good any time but now. Now you need chocolate. 

“Looking for something?” a deep voice calls and you jump.

“Shit, you scared me, sir,” you say, holding your hand against your chest. 

Daemon moves toward you from the shadows, silk pajama pants hanging low on his hips. He’s shirtless and you make a point to look at his lavender eyes. They’re almost black in the low light, a smirk dancing on his lips. 

“I was just looking for something sweet,” you tell him, biting your lip.

“Something sweet, hmm?” he echoes, reaching around you to open the freezer. 

You back up, suddenly very aware of your choice of pajamas. Another gift you’d found waiting on your bed, a silky red set. The tank top hands low, the shorts hugging the curves of your ass and thighs. 

“Try this,” Daemon says, holding out some gelato.

You let out a breathy sigh. 

“What?” Daemon asks, tilting his head curiously.

“Everything here is so fancy,” you tell him, “even the ice cream.”

“Isn't it nice to have expensive things?” he asks, unscrewing the lid and throwing it on the black marble counter.

“I don’t know if I’ll like it,” you tell him, nose scrunching.

He chuckles, cocking an eyebrow. Daemon reaches for a drawer, pulling out a long silver spoon, perfect for ice cream. He dips it into the gelato before bringing his violet eyes to yours.

“Open your mouth,” he murmurs, holding the spoon out to your lips.

With his seductive tone, the roughness of his voice floating over you like silk caressing your skin, you instinctively part your lips, accepting the sweet treat. It’s cold and sweet as it moves across your tongue, sliding down your throat. A bit dribbles on your lips as Daemon removes the spoon from the confines of your mouth. A small remnant of the cream lingers on the spoon and Daemon places it between his lips. 

Your eyes are wide, watching him suck on it, and you can feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. He removes the spoon, licking his lips. You bring your hand to your lips wiping away the trace of cream that remains.

“Do you like it?” Daemon asks, voice gruff, eyes hungry for more than gelato. 

“Yes,” you breathe. 

He smiles and then places the container in your hand.

“Enjoy,” he tells you, before walking out of the kitchen. 

You stay still, standing dumb for several minutes after he leaves, feeling the container of gelato begin to soften the longer you hold it. Snapping out of your trance, you hurry back to your room, closing the door behind you. 

note: hope you enjoyed my loves! 😘

HOTD TAGLIST GENERAL: @bluevxnuss, @thattargboy, @xlilacfrostx, @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @marvelescape, @geminithrone, @deltamoon666, @i-killed-ramsey, @tempt-ress, @eddiemadmunson, @zillahvathek, @hangmanscoming, @jojoesq, @f4ll-for-you, @rwdkarla, @cc13723things, @filipiniamultifandom, @watercolorskyy @alexxavicry @sachafirebringer @polireader @jamespotterismydaddy @grv7ay9In35s @sofiaadler @sophielangdonx @doublesparrows, @sophielangdonx, @alitaar, @castellomargot, @paodemorangol1l1, @nik2blog, @arkainea @eddiemadmunson, @malfoytargaryen, @eudximoniax, @targaryen-world, @ghostheartbeat @savagemickey03, @aemondsdaemons, @candypurplebutterfly, @eddiemadmunson, @xxnaly2, @ghostheartbeat, @savagemickey03, @dieg0brandos-wife, @paodemorangol1l1, @hb8301, @padfooteyes, @valeskafics @doublesparrows, @bornbetter, @beyond-the-ashes, @clairacassidy, @aslanvez, @loglady00, @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly, @minami97, @serving-targaryen-realness, @chaotic-fangirl-blog, @possiblyafangirl, @shmexie, @winter-soldier-101, @kaelatargaryen, @urmomsgirlfriend1, @floswife, @mizfortuna, @strawberryduvet, @girlwith-thepearlearring, @arryn-nyx

bold means I could not tag!

✨ click here to be added to taglist ✨

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Running an errand together brings out even more sides of Eddie Munson, including one that you wish you'd never seen (5.2k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, parental conflict, poverty, jealousy, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter six: the eye of the tiger

Guilt fit like the shoes your mom forced you to wear as a kid, the dressy ones reserved for special occasions. It pinched at you, dug into you, a constant reminder of its unwelcome presence.

And so you did everything you could to alleviate the discomfort. On Wednesday, Dad mosied into the lobby for his shift to find the floor meticulously swept; there was not a speck of dust in sight. If he had any suspicions, he didn’t bother to show them. He was probably just grateful for the help regardless of its cause.

Mom, as usual, was more skeptical of your intentions, raising a disbelieving brow when you presented her with the bills you’d reorganized by their due dates. You’d offered up the excuse of being bored with nothing better to do. Did she buy it? Unlikely. But she also didn’t pose further questions, choreographing another step in your dance.

And when Dad hung up the phone Friday afternoon, thumb and forefinger massaging the bridge of his nose, you jumped at the chance to fix the situation.

“Everything okay?”

He looked up with a start, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to realize you’d been standing in the doorway. 

“That was Uncle Mo,” he said with an elongated sigh. “The delivery truck won’t start; something’s busted, I guess, so we won’t get our wallpaper until it’s out of the shop.”

“I can go after class,” you volunteered. The shop was a twenty minute bus ride from school, no transfers required. Lugging it on the subway back home might prove more challenging, but you could manage it. 

He dashed your dreams with a swift shake of his head. “They close early for the Sabbath.” Which meant they’d be closed all day tomorrow, too. 

Dad glanced around at the walls, lip scraping over his bottom lip. Their barrenness unsettled him; his pride and joy left empty and exposed.  

Imagine how he’ll feel once this place is boarded up for good. Bet he won’t care about some ugly walls then. 

“I’ll go on Sunday.” The promise practically made itself before you could stop it. Your final paper was due on Tuesday, and you had planned to spend your weekend finishing it, but that would need to take a backseat until the wallpaper crisis was resolved.

You could be part of that solution. For now, at least.

Sunlight teased summer’s beginning and warmed your skin. The walk to the subway station required you to cross paths with the mailbox you’d fought with—and humbly lost to—a few days prior. Dejection shot through your chest as you paused in front of it, focusing on a spot of rusted metal where the paint had flaked off. Short of intercepting the United States Postal Service, there was nothing you could do. Besides, your acceptance was probably already locked inside NYU’s admissions office, sitting among a pile of identical envelopes. Most of them, you suspected, were mailed with exuberance and not with the trepidation you carried. 

The station’s stuffiness engulfed you as you descended the stairs, fingertips brushing the railing to ensure your balance. Your return trip would be short of torture, sweat prickling beneath your arms at the mere thought of dragging wallpaper through the thick humidity. You might have to splurge for a cab to avoid melting completely.

Frantic, impassioned guitar strumming grabbed your attention just before you approached the turnstile, echoing off of the concrete and infiltrating all of your senses. Your breath caught in your throat when you saw that Eddie was the source of the noise. He leaned against the wall as he played an electric guitar—the same one he had clutched so dearly when sleeping at the bus stop. There was no microphone, no amplifier; just him and his instrument. The case was open in front of him, now holding a few scattered dollar bills and some loose change. 

He didn’t notice you, not at first, so you took that opportunity to silently watch him. His head nodded along with the beat, his voice a low timbre as he sang. 

Trust I seek and I find in you 

Every day for us something new 

Open mind for a different view 

And nothing else matters

The chords were nearly drowned out by his vocals, and the softer strumming should have clashed with the harsh lyrics, but he made it work. 

It was somehow even sadder than when Metallica played it, though not from a lack of power. Eddie’s version intertwined anger with desperation, a somber reprise of the gritty original. 

Deft fingers pressed into the frets, the pick pinched between the other hand’s thumb and forefinger. He took a step forward to launch himself into the chorus with a combination of focus and ease. This is what he was meant to do, what he was born to do. Whether he was in front of a captivated audience of thousands or a smattering of indifferent commuters, he was a rockstar. 

Never cared for what they say

Never cared for games they play

Never cared for what they do

Never cared for what they know

And I know, yeah, yeah

Heat blossomed in your belly at his gravelly voice, the way he pulled the notes from the depths of his diaphragm and belted them out. The E train came and went as it screeched along the tracks, but you remained as though the soles of your feet were glued to the ground. 

So close, no matter how far

Couldn't be much more from the heart 

Forever trusting who we are 

No, nothing else matters

For a brief moment after finishing the song, Eddie’s chest puffed out with pride. It quickly faltered in the absence of applause, but before he could play another song, his gaze landed on you. He grinned and shook a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. Part of you wanted to fix it for him, to tuck it behind his ear or sweep it all back into a ponytail, but you refrained. Instead, you dug into your purse and tossed a dollar into the case. 

“Was that the one I gave you for the cab?” Eddie asked, fingers absently brushing over the strings in a series of random chords. 

“Nah, this was from the other asshole guest who made me late for class.”

Your jibe caught him off-guard and he actually laughed with such force that he had to stop playing. “And here I thought I was the only one.” He ran a hand through his hair, wincing as it snagged on a knot. “Are you going to the library or something?”

You lacked the energy to explain that the library was in the opposite direction, opting instead to cut to the chase. “Picking up the wallpaper.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed and he cocked his head. “I thought it was being delivered.” As you relayed the whole broken-truck saga, he started sliding the guitar strap up off of his back and crouched down, stuffing the money from the case into his pockets. “Cool. I’ll go with.”

“Oh, I wasn’t–” You paused mid-sentence to consider your words. “I mean, you don’t have to. I can do it on my own.”

“S’fine.” Eddie laid the guitar down with the fragility that one would handle a newborn baby and snapped the case shut. “Didn’t realize this station is basically dead on Sundays. I normally just play here during the week, but I’ve been out of commission.” He held up his bandaged finger and pouted impishly.

The familiar playfulness settled back into the conversation, breaking up any lingering awkwardness, and you snatched up the opportunity to tease him. “Ah, right. Your man stuff.”

“Very manly. Burly, some might say.” He extended one hand in front of him, palm up, to gesture towards the turnstiles. “Shall we?”

You led and he followed behind so closely that his chest smacked into your back when you stopped in your tracks. The uneven weight distribution, courtesy of the guitar case lolling at his side, thrusted him forward, the metal buckle on his belt digging into your skin through your shirt. 

It set off a domino effect, one that had you falling face-first to the ground. Before you could even brace for impact, you felt Eddie’s fingers digging into your hip and tugging you upright. The way he caught you was almost reflexive, his grasp controlled enough to avoid bruising your skin, but strong enough that you realized he could if he wanted to. 

“What happened?” His tone was mixed with both concern and amusement; a crackle of laughter broke up his question. 

An embarrassing adrenaline surge shot through you, bringing with it a chill that immediately preceded a heatwave of perspiration. “The, um…” You lamely pointed at the card swipe machines that had replaced the token receptacles. “I forgot that we need those MetroCard things.” 

Eddie let go of your hip and you felt his absence almost immediately. “No, we don’t.” He left no time for questioning, hoisting the case to the other side and pushing himself up and over the bar, landing on his feet with cat-like dexterity. 

You stared at him in disbelief. Sure, you’d jumped the turnstile a time or two, but that was back in high school, under the influence of friends you hadn’t talked to since. 

“What’re you waiting for?” He called out. A Cheshire-cat grin graced his lips. 

What were you waiting for? It’s not like the transit police were scouring the station. The poor schmuck stuck at the now-defunct token booth was exasperatedly trying to explain the new system to an older gentleman; he probably wouldn’t have noticed a wildebeest stampede. And you certainly weren’t eager to contribute to the politicians who lined their pockets with taxpayer money. 

Fuck it. 

In one swift motion—much more graceful than your earlier stumble—you mimicked his actions. One foot, then the other, your biceps supporting your body weight. 

“You little rebel.” Eddie tutted, his smirk showing off his teeth. You never noticed the way one canine is slightly sharper than the other, and it digs into his lower lip. “This is how it starts, y’know. One day, you’re skipping out on train fare; the next, you’re committing armed robbery.”

If he kept rubbing your nerves raw, you might be more tempted to commit homicide. 

Another E train arrived not long after. You were an expert at scouting empty seats, and you made a beeline for the first one you found. There was another one across the way, just vacated by a woman pushing a stroller, and you assumed Eddie would take it. 

Instead, he shoved his guitar case towards you, parting your legs between the knees, and grabbed onto one of the overhead handles. 

“Can you hold this?” Eddie asked belatedly. He rocked forward onto his toes as the train moved to keep his balance. A guitar pick necklace swung out from beneath the vee of his shirt and swayed above you. 

You drank in the way he towered over you, so close that he was all you could see. The mingled scents of the motel’s soap and a musky deodorant wafted off of him and enveloped your senses. For a second, there was only him, and whatever the outside world had to offer was just shy of meaningless. 

“There’s a seat down there.” You peered around him and gestured to the one you’d spotted earlier, careful not to point at anyone. 

Eddie looked but declined with a shrug. “Nah, I’m good. I like standing.”

“See, that’s the kind of thing that separates the natives from the transplants.” You smiled up at him. “You didn’t even want to sit down after a gig? Or a long rehearsal?”

“I didn’t really ever take the subway,” he admitted. “Maybe, like, once or twice.”

You huffed out an incredulous laugh. “How did you get around?” 

“Taxis, car service.” He ticked off the items on his free hand. “One time we rented a helicopter, but then the label threatened to revoke the company card.” He chuckled forlornly, like the memory was heavier than an impromptu helicopter ride. 

“Sounds like you were living the life.”

Eddie shook off his wistfulness with a cheeky grin. “Hell yeah. Expensive restaurants, swanky hotels…did I ever tell you about the time we trashed our room?”

“You did not.” You’re not sure you want to know, considering he’s currently staying in one of yours. 

He laughed. “Get this: we come back to the hotel after a gig. We’re all fuckin’ exhausted. As soon as we walk into the lobby, the night manager is on us like a hawk. I mean, the guy gave a stink eye like you wouldn’t believe.” He tried mimicking him, but he was too upbeat to embody the manager’s full ire. “Anyway, we’re not in the room for five minutes when there’s a knock on the door. Of course it’s that schmuck, warning us about the noise policy.”

You looked at him incredulously. “That’s why you destroyed a hotel room?” 

“Mhm.” Eddie proudly nodded, not missing the way concern furrowed your brow. “Don’t worry, Heiress. I’d never trash your place.”

“I’d have to get Phyllis after you.” Laughter bubbled out of you at his visible cringe, probably thinking of being on the other end of her baseball bat. “Okay, so what’s the dumbest thing you guys bought with the company card?”

People pushed through the aisle as the train pulled up to the stop, elbows nudging Eddie until he was practically on top of you. Every hair on your body stood up at the sudden change in proximity. “Probably one of those stuffed tiger things for our apartment,” he admitted.

“You and your band bought a taxidermied tiger?” You scoffed. 

His face flushed, and he scratched at his jaw like he’d been caught red-handed. “N-No, not the whole band. Just me and the drummer. We, um, she was my girlfriend, I guess.”

Puzzle pieces started falling into place and interlocking curves. His ex-girlfriend was also in the band, which was probably why they broke up once Eddie quit. “How long were you two together?” You instantly regret not asking about the tiger instead, for his sake and yours. 

“Hard to say; we were pretty on-and-off.” Eddie tried to play it off casually but terse laughter gave him away. The subway lurched and Eddie swayed forward again, his knee grazing yours. “But it was about a year from start to finish.”

You let the information sink in. He had a girlfriend in Death’s Echo, but he seemed to be unattached at the moment. Made sense, considering he was living in your motel rather than with a partner.

“That’s what no one tells you about money: it runs out.” Eddie continued. “It’s like, common sense or whatever. But when you have no money and then you get a shit-ton of it, it’s hard to imagine ever going back.” 

His eyes found yours like he had been searching for them, and you held his gaze until a monotone voice crackled over the speaker, announcing that the train was approaching the Forest Hills-71st Avenue station. 

“We have to transfer here.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose, clearly not thrilled by this extra step, but he followed your lead without any audible protest.

“Y’know,” he said as the doors opened, the two of you joining the swarm of people pushing their way out, “my neighborhood back home was also called Forest Hills.”

“Seems fancy,” you quipped. 

He laughed, head thrown back. “Oh, yeah. It’s the most glamorous trailer park in all of Indiana.”

The faux pas curdled in your stomach. What were you thinking? He had just confessed that he was broke before Death’s Echo. 

“Sorry, that was stupid.”

He shrugged off your comment, seemingly unbothered. “How many stops is this next one?”

“Just two.”

He hummed his acknowledgment, and with the R train less crowded than the E, you found seats adjacent to one another.

You did your best to ignore the way his right leg brushed your left, the worn denim against your bare skin as the train jostled him. He murmured a barely-audible “sorry.”

There was no reason for him to apologize, and you almost told him this, but you substituted a tight smile for words. Truthfully, you were glad he confirmed that the touch was accidental. You’d nearly nudged him back, a secret handshake of sorts, and your body burned with the mere prospect of embarrassment.

The train screeched to a stop in front of a sign that barely read 63rd Drive-Rego Park, most of the letters covered in colorful graffiti tags. 

“This is us,” you said, handing him back his guitar so you could stand up. 

Eddie stepped aside with a small bow, equal parts awkward and endearing. “So, uh, where are we going, exactly?” He stayed close enough so you could hear him over the cacophony of commuters. 

“S’just a few blocks.” You maintained your fast-paced stride so as to not get bowled over. 

He kept up with you surprisingly well for someone unused to navigating the city’s public transit. The fresh air welcomed you as you ascended the stairs, leaving behind the station’s mugginess. Conversations and traffic replaced metallic clunking while you weaved in and out of a sea of pedestrians, checking every so often to ensure you hadn’t left Eddie behind. 

Bold white letters on a maroon awning proudly proclaimed Eisen’s Paint and Supply, and the faint sound of bell chimed when you opened the door. A middle-aged man stood behind the counter, eyes lighting up when you walked in. 

“Uncle Mo!” You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. Uncle Mo wasn’t your father’s brother, but their bond went beyond blood relation. He was part of nearly all of Dad’s stories since they’d met in high school: the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

There was more gray in his hair and in his beard than the last time you’d seen him, the lines from his lips to his jaw more pronounced, but he still wore the same cologne that you’d remembered. The familiar scent was like home, a reminder of all of the Thanksgivings your families had spent together before the motel engulfed your life. 

He beamed, his hands bracing your upper arms as he got a better look at you. “Look at you; so grown up!” His eyes misted over for a second before he blinked the moisture away. “How long has it been?”

“Too long.” You turned back to Eddie, waving him over and introducing him. Uncle Mo politely extended a hand that Eddie shook quickly before shoving his fingers back in his pocket. 

“Before I get your paper,” Uncle Mo said to you with a mischievous smile, “I have a bit of a surprise.” The stockroom door swung open on cue and a young man stepped out from behind it. 

Your hand flew to your mouth in shock, every bone in your body vibrating. “Ben?” The name was muffled but still audible, and Ben opened his arms just in time for you to tackle him in an embrace.

His gangly teenage limbs had been replaced with hard muscle, his chest straining through his t-shirt. There was no trace of the wispy excuse for a mustache he’d once proudly sported; his face was freshly shaven, only the slightest evidence of his stubble scratched against your cheek when he pulled you to him. 

“I couldn’t believe it when my dad told me you were stopping by,” Ben said, finally letting go after a few moments. He looked at Eddie as if noticing him for the first time. “Ben. Nice to meet you.”

Eddie said nothing in response, his jaw set and his arms crossed over his chest. Whatever friendliness he’d shown Uncle Mo was clearly not being granted to his son. 

“Ben, this is Eddie,” you hurried to explain before the tension became unbearably dense. “He works for the motel, doing different repairs and odd jobs. Whatever we need, really.”

Your old friend nodded and brought his attention back to you. “Do you guys need help bringing the wallpaper back? I don’t have anything to–”

“We’ve got it.” Eddie cut him off curtly, clipping the conversation’s wings. His eyes narrowed in judgmental assessment and their milk chocolate hue turned dark.

Ben had evidently stepped on his toes; you thought back to the wasp’s nest and his adamance to clobber it with a baseball bat despite your insistence to wait until you bought the spray. You shot Eddie a look that he either disregarded or didn’t notice, because his clenched jaw never loosened. 

“Right, yeah.” A blush crept into Ben’s cheeks, the other man’s brusqueness catching him off-guard. “But we should catch up soon,” he said to you, “maybe grab a cup of coffee?”

It was an effort to ignore the way Eddie tensed up; even more so to pretend like his reaction hadn’t stirred something inside of you. Everything between you and him, and you and Ben, was strictly platonic. Whatever melodrama he’d conjured up was his problem, not yours. 

Your relationship with Eddie teetered between acquaintances and friends; he was in no position to get bent out of shape over you going for coffee with Ben or any other man.

You pushed the intrusive thought away long enough to answer Ben’s question. “Yeah, of course! You’re home for the whole summer?”

“Actually…” Ben’s grin widened, harboring a secret he was eager to spill. “I’m back for good. You’re looking at Dr. Benjamin Eisen, D.D.S.”

“That’s amazing!”

He nodded happily, enthusiasm unrestrained. “Thanks. I’m hoping to open up a practice nearby, so I’ll be sticking around for a while.”

That was the best news you’d heard in a while. The pair of you were once inseparable, always devising plans to convince your parents to extend their visits. When you were six, you’d almost started a fire trying to put on a pot of coffee, hoping that it would coax the Eisens into staying longer. 

Too bad you’d forgotten to add the water. 

Uncle Mo returned from the stock room with rolls of wallpaper, and his son shuffled towards him to take one from his grasp. 

“Are you sure I can’t help out?” Ben tried again. He only looked at you when he spoke. 

You almost took him up on his offer, the reply sitting on the tip of your tongue, but Eddie answered for you. 

“We’re good,” he said flatly, taking the rolls from the other men. “I used to lug around amps all the time. This is nothing.”

He’d uttered the same phrase before taking a bat to a wasp’s nest, and he’d ended up hurt. Still, inviting Ben along would almost certainly guarantee an awkward commute home. At best, you’d force stilted small talk; at worst, Eddie might shove Ben onto the tracks. 

“Thanks anyway,” you said politely, trying to temper your irritation. 

Ben gave a tight smile, brows shooting up when remembered something. “Let me give you my new phone number so we can set up a time to meet up.” He plucked a business card from the little plastic container on the desk, flipping it over and scrawling his number on the back. 

“Sounds great.” It truly did, save for Eddie’s glare that made you grateful looks couldn’t actually kill. 

Tucking the card into your purse, you held him in one last hug before bidding them goodbye. 

Eddie said nothing the entire walk back to the subway station. He strode there despite heaving around a guitar case and cylinders of wallpaper. You suspected he could have flown there if he wasn’t so bogged down. The closest he came to acknowledging your presence was the scoff he let out when you veered off-course to buy a MetroCard. 

You ignored him, still fuming over his behavior towards Ben. With trembling fingers, you dropped your change into the coin slot, acutely aware of his presence as he stood beside you. He was close enough that you could hear his tense sigh, as though his frustration was justified.

Yanking the card out from behind the swinging Plexiglass, you silently stalked over to the turnstile, Eddie begrudgingly hot on your heels. The tiny diagram showed the magnetic strip facing downwards and you did your best to emulate it. After two failed swipes, the machine relented and gave an approving beep.

“Go,” you told Eddie, and when he stared at you blankly, you repeated yourself with considerably less patience. “Go.”

“Okay, okay.” There was no hiding his surprise at your insistence, the sharpness of your tongue. He obviously wasn't accustomed to taking the attitude he dished out. His eyebrows crashed into his hairline as he maneuvered through, wallpaper bumping up against the metal gates. 

There wasn’t enough money left on the card for you, so after a brief glance at your surroundings, you once again lift yourself up and over to the other side. The metal barrier seemed laughably obsolete beneath you.

Eddie blinked twice in rapid succession but composed himself before you reached him again. A peculiar expression graced his face; not so much amusement as much as admiration. If you weren’t so annoyed with him, with his antics back at Eisen’s, you might have cracked a joke about his bad influence rubbing off on you. 

The first leg of the trip—the shortest part, as it were, went smoothly. It was once the E train departed from Forest Hills that it almost immediately halted, the exasperated conductor announcing that extensive track work was causing delays. 

“Fucking great,” you muttered. Experience told you that the remainder of the ride would be stop-and-go, which meant more time spent with Eddie. 

He’d exhaled an exasperated sigh of his own, eyes flickering over the subway car and foot tapping to a beat only he could hear. When he finally spoke, it was the last thing you’d expected him to say. 

“Wanna play I Spy?”

“Um, what?”

“Y’know, I spy with my little eye…” he explained, as though you were confused about the game concept.

It took every last ounce of energy not to burst out laughing at his odd request, though it helped that annoyance still tarnished your mood. “All right. Sure.” 

“Cool.” He glanced around again, rubbing his palms over his thighs in concentration. “Okay, I spy with my little eye, something purple.”

Squinting, you searched for shades of lilac and violet. “That woman’s shirt?” You jutted your chin towards an older woman sitting across the car. 

“Nope.”

“That little girl’s shoes?”

Eddie just shook his head, his dimples gradually deepening with each wrong answer you gave. 

Your next three guesses were also incorrect, and Eddie triumphantly pumped his fist when you admitted defeat. 

“It’s the words on that sign,” he said, pointing to an advertisement for psychic readings. 

It was your turn, and it didn’t take you long to find your target. 

“I spy with my little eye, something…douchey.” Your gaze never left his face, watching the skin crease between his brows as he connected your implication. 

Eddie threw his head back and cackled, drawing the ire of your fellow commuters. You shushed him with a hiss, his apathy only fueling your anger. 

“Fine, I guess I deserved that.” He leaned back in his seat and stretched his arms upwards. For a second, you thought he might drape one over your shoulders, but he brought them right back to his lap. 

“You guess?” You gawped, and he laughed even louder. “You were a total asshole to Ben for no reason.”

Eddie’s voice got feather-soft; you had to lean in to hear him. “Trust me; I had a reason.”

You snorted. “What, him offering to help carry the wallpaper threatened your ‘man stuff?’”

“Something like that.” 

Crossing your arms, you shot him a bemused grimace. Whatever testosterone-laden excuse he concocted would just strengthen your irritation, so you saved yourself the headache and  plundered on. 

“Ben and I have been friends since I was born.” That wasn’t an exaggeration; a photo of one-year-old Ben holding newborn you was tucked away in one of Mom’s albums. Dad had snapped the photo while Uncle Mo sat next to his son, helping cradle your head. You were only a few hours old. “Whatever your problem is, don’t make it mine. Or his,” you add.

Eddie had no response to that, and you preferred it that way. Maybe he was learning not to argue with you, especially when he was so obviously wrong.

Your response halted all conversation for the rest of the extended ride and continued during the short trek back to the motel. The quiet was necessary, but not peaceful, and you refused to buckle when an invisible pull urged you to talk again, to push past the discomfort. If you couldn’t outright tell him that he’d upset you, the least he could do was feel that anger.

“Where do these go?” Eddie asked once the motel’s doors closed behind you. You pointed to the supply closet and he ambled over, wincing as the hinges squeaked in a plea for lubrication. “All right, so, I can get started on this tonight if you want.”

You considered this for a moment before shaking your head. The lobby could survive another night with bare walls, but you needed a break. A break not just from Eddie, but from his naivety to his actions having consequences. 

“Tomorrow’s fine.”

He stilled, his hands halfway in his pockets. “I mean, I was going to stop by anyway; I might as well—”

“I think I just need some quiet tonight.” It was the nicest response you could muster, though the way the words passed through your clenched teeth gave away your annoyance. 

“Oh.” His cheeks puffed out as he exhaled a breath of air, his eyes refusing to meet yours. Confusion tied his tongue, but if he didn’t realize the mistake he’d made, you were in no mood to spell it out. He waited a beat for you to follow up, to iron out the creases with an explanation that had nothing to do with his earlier behavior, but that never happened.

The lack of reassurance pained you, too. You despised leaving matters unfinished; part of you wanted to apologize—for what, you weren’t sure—just to have some resolution. 

Eddie raked his fingers through his curls. “Well, I’m sorry for pissing you off, or whatever.”

Or whatever. Those two words almost had you smacking him upside the head with the wallpaper tubes. Maybe sealing his lips with the glue, too. 

The worst part was the shock on his face when you’d wordlessly stormed out of the supply closet towards your room. Like he had no idea what he’d done wrong or why his non-apology fell flat. 

No, that was a lie. The worst part was actually the pang of disappointment in your chest when there were no footsteps pounding down the hall, no knock on your door, no attempt to talk through the situation. As much as you wanted to be left alone, you’d clutched to an optimistic sliver that he would follow you. It was a pathetic need for proof that he cared about you as more than just his employer. As his friend.

But there was nothing.

That silence hurt most of all. 

--

taglist (now closed ♥):

@theintimatewriter @mandyjo8719 @storiesbyrhi @lady-munson @moonmark98 @squidscottjeans @therealbaberuthless @emxxblog @munson-mjstan @loves0phelia @kthomps914 @aysheashea @munsonsbtch @mmunson86 @b-irock @ginasellsbooks @erinekc @the-unforgivenn @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975 @yujyujj @eddies-acousticguitar @daisy-munson @kellsck @foreveranexpatsposts @mykuup @chatteringfox @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @sapphire4082 @katethetank @sidthedollface2 @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @mysteris-things @mrsjellymunson @josephquinnsfreckles @the-disaster-in-waiting @eddielowe @hugdealer @rip-quizilla @munson-girl @fishwithtitz @costellation-hunter @cloudroomblog @emsgoodthinkin

[justporo]

The Push and the Pull (There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin)

I'm so deep in my feelings today, just sitting on the sofa being sick. So this is what you get: an angsty, fluffy, deeply corny fic of Astarion and Tav having a heart to heart. (Fueled by Taylor Swift and underlined by a Hozier lyric in the title, we really out here using all the clichés today)

And I'd really like to dedicate this to all my friendly and lovely and caring mutuals and friends here today - those I talk to almost every day now, those who created lovely art for me and those who are just all around so so lovely to me.

Summary: Since Astarion's confession, Tav and the vampire have spent every single possible moment together, getting closer, but guilt weighs on her and so she speaks her mind - about more than one thing apparently.

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You)

Warnings: Talk about sex and past trauma

Wordcount: 2,4k

Song: This is me trying - Taylor Swift

~~~

You laid with Astarion in his tent, all entangled: your arms around his upper body, one leg hooked around his and the other mushed between his as well. And Astarion held you just as desperately. His arms always seemed to drag you in closer as to not allow just the tiniest piece of space between you. His hands were roaming your back, softly caressing it and his face burrowed in your hair, softly nuzzling you with his nose.

Your face was buried in his chest, breathing in his scent: camp fire smoke, forest pine needles and some of the scent he liked to put on with bergamot and brandy.

You wanted to hold him as closely as possible. Wanting to give him as much of this comfort as possible.

Since his confession at Moonrise Towers you had spent every single night together. At first Astarion had seemed a bit surprised when you had come over and told him you wanted to spend the evening and the night with him. Seemingly he hadn’t been able to wrap his head around the fact that you actually wanted to spend time with him – with both your clothes on. Despite you assuring him after his confession that you cared deeply for him and were more than prepared to aid him in figuring out what he needed. And waiting, waiting until he was comfortable again for other stuff – or even finding new ways altogether if that was what was required.

But soon he’d been awaiting you every evening to come over, seeming like a kid that was desperate to be allowed to finally leave the dinner table to go play whenever you and the rest set up camp for the night. And so usually during the evening when the whole party retired you spent your nights with the vampire. Talking, detangling his hair, kissing, him massaging your tensed back, joking around until you both almost cried, worrying about what the next day or battle would bring, reading, playing cards with a deck you had pickpocketed somewhere, just getting to know each other better.

At this point you both really enjoyed that your elven nature allowed you to stay up way longer than most other party members – grateful for the extra time to spend with each other.

But the thing you probably spent most of your time with was: holding each other. Laying like this, feeling each other’s bodies, delighting in the comfort to know the other one was alive and just as eager to be held.

Astarion could seemingly  never get enough of having you in his arms. Always pulling you back into his arms in the morning when you tried to crawl out of his tent to start the day. Always groaning and hugging you harder when you started to protest until you gave in – if only for five more minutes. And how could you deny him anyway – this was the bare minimum he deserved after two hundred years of torment and being stripped of the most basic needs.

And also you wanted to imprint the feeling of his arms around you and his body against yours on your mind, wanting to memorise his smell – so to be able to always conjure this sensation and the feelings that came with it: warmth, joy, love.

You hadn’t quite put that last thing in words yet, but you’d known you felt like that for some time now. Your heart swelled achingly whenever you thought about Astarion. Your dearest wish being to keep him safe, help him heal and hold him close for as long as you were able to.

But tonight, you couldn’t shake a feeling of sadness. With all the positive developments in your relationship with the vampire there was this one thing that kept gnawing on your thoughts and lay heavy on your mind. And you felt you had to get it out now.

You pushed up from your cuddling position, Astarion immediately making a displeased noise and face while you leant on your arms to hover above him and look directly into his eyes. And you saw how his facial expression changed from mocking annoyance to worry, his brows drawing together, as he looked at you and obviously saw in your face that something was the matter.

He softly cupped your face with one hand: “What is it, my love? Is something wrong? Have I done something wro-“ “I’m-I’m sorry, Astarion”, you blurted out.

Immediately Astarion’s eyes filled with shock, his lips parted slightly – he obviously immediately thought that he had messed up in some kind of way. So you quickly continued to rip him out of his spiralling negative thoughts.

“I feel like… No… I took advantage of you and for that I feel terrible, Astarion, I’m so sorry. I know this does not changed what happened, but I wanted you to know that. And I hope you can forgive me for that”, you said and sat up, suddenly feeling you needed to be in an upright position to have this conversation.

Astarion sat up as well, leaning back on his hands and looking utterly confused. His eyes weren’t full of fear anymore but now filled with worry: “Love, could you please clarify because it seems I can’t catch up with what you mean.”

“The nights we slept with each other”, you replied immediately, feeling how the words and the feelings in you were desperate to get out. Tears started to well up in your eyes which you angrily started to rub away with your hands. “I treated you just as everyone else did. I don’t want that, I don’t want to use you, you deserve better”, you continued as the tears really started flowing in hot streams over your cheeks.

Astarion sat up further until he was in a cross-legged position and could lean to you to grab your hands that kept wiping away tears you felt you weren’t allowed to shed in this moment.

“Love, you feel like you took advantage of me when I told you I manipulated you into falling for me and now feel bad that you did exactly what I wanted you to do?”, he replied with sorrow on his face and you realised he had heaps of his own guilt.

You didn’t know how to reply so you just kept looking at him. “Tav, I understand what you mean but… How were you even supposed to know at that point?” You started to shrug, trying to say something like you would have had to know better but Astarion shushed you. He moved to cup your cheek.

“My sweet, please, I can’t even say how much I appreciate you saying this but please – leave it in the past, alright? I understand you feel bad for that and so do I for seducing you with ulterior motives in mind.”

You wanted to immediately reassure him that you were over this, but again he made you stay silent with softly lifting his free hand to silence you.

“Let us just agree to leave this behind us, alright? We are here now. Let’s not burden yourself with more than we already have going on, my love. This is a hard lesson I had to learn in life: you can’t undo what has happened, so sometimes it’s better to not let your mind be consumed by it.”

You softly nodded when he looked at you with raised eyebrows awaiting your approval. The tears had slowly subsided, but Astarion’s fingers were still softly brushing over your cheeks.

“And if it’s any reconciliation: it’s been different with you, from the very beginning.” He angled his head and his crimson gaze drifted away softly as he remembered.

 “You were so eager to be held, to open your heart and give yourself to me. And more so, so eager to give back”, he whispered and absent-mindedly a warm smile crept onto his face before his brows drew together again. “And now you are with me. Every single free second you have you spend with me although I can’t… It’s…”, his words trailed off, his hand dropped from your face.

Astarion sighed and lifted his face to the ceiling of the tent. “I know you said you were willing to wait and… not have sex with me until I was ready for it. And the next time I want to fall into your arms, I want to be sure it's without fear, without a slither of doubt, with nothing on my mind but having you, but…” His words trailed off again, his gaze dropping to the floor. You cautiously reached for one of his hands, starting to softly knead it with yours.

After a few moments, Astarion sighed and looked directly at you, red eyes piercing: “The truth is… I want you, desperately. I can’t stop thinking about how your naked body felt against mine. Hells, I get aroused basically every time you’re even remotely close to me. I feel like a giddy adolescent around you at the best of times. Sometimes I can't stop thinking about burying my face between your legs, slobbering at you like a godsdamned dog until you forget anything but my name. Or about wanting to immerse myself in you, lose myself under your hands for I know I would not have to fear drowning. But it all feels so rotten. It’s so frustrating.” He withdrew his hand from yours and pressed both of them against his eyes with a sigh of frustration.

You could only sit there and listen to his speech, your cheeks heating slightly at his confession. And you realised that he was walking around with so much worry and pain and desperation.

“Would you rather I keep more of a dista-“ “NO!”, Astarion immediately exclaimed and stared at you. “Unless…”, he continued more calmly and with a tinge of worry in his voice, “I mean unless it makes you uncomfortable that I’m like a needy youth around you.” You immediately shook your head eagerly. Astarion went back to pressing his hands to his eyes.

“Astarion, I’m…” – you wanted to apologise again but Astarion shortly lifted his hands and gave you a stare that dared you to utter the words, so you just sighed and went on – “If I can do anything to help you, please tell me. But other than that: firstly, I want you too – more than is probably healthy, I’m sure you know that. But - look at me” – you grabbed his hands this time, forced him to look at you for the next words – “I love spending time with you like this. These are the best parts of my day. You’re a delight to be around, Astarion, you’re so smart and witty. I could listen to you talk for hours. If we could just stay here, laying in each other’s arms forever, you can bet your sweet ass, I would!”

You had almost shouted the last words, riling yourself up so much with your feelings for the vampire spawn. And you felt your feelings almost boil over in your chest, so you proceeded with the thought racing through your mind before you got too shy and wouldn’t put it out there:

“I love you, Astarion!”

It came out almost a little forceful and you pressed your lips together after the words had left your mouth. But you immediately were sure that it had been the right thing to do.

Astarion’s eyes widened at you, his mouth hanging open. His eyes jumped all over you, from your one eye to the other, to your lips and back again.

The silence drew out and you started to become uneasy, awkwardly starting to shift around in your sitting position as you waited for Astarion to react with something more than surprise.

“Sorry, I shouted”, you said and bit your lip “and you don’t have to say it back.” “Gods, stop apologising already, you idiot”, Astarion immediately replied and swung over to grab your face and kiss you – forcefully and passionately.

After some long moments he broke the kiss shortly: “Also I love you too, Tav.” And then he kissed you again, pulling you over until you sat in his lap. “I love you more than I ever loved anything”, he whispered in between kisses.

Somewhen, you leaned back until you were laying there again just like at the beginning of the night. Still kissing. And you stayed like this for a long time.

Much later you broke away, both your lips swollen from kissing, and just looked into each other’s eyes. You pressed your hand against Astarion’s with spread fingers – observing the differences between your hand and his.

“Astarion?”

“Hm?”, he simply hummed and kept staring at you.

“You said I didn’t have to apologise.”

“Hm.”

“I’ll have you know the same goes for you, okay? Because don’t think I didn’t realise you only spoke about me and left yourself out! I mean, yes, you manipulated you, but you fell for me in the end, you clown, and look where all that got you”, you said and couldn’t help grinning. You closed your fingers around Astarion’s hand.

Astarion grinned back: “Right in the best kind of mess I could have ever imagined. And now you’re stuck with this clown.” He moved his free hand to motion towards himself. “And I would argue a much more attractive clown than the average jester.”

You laughed softly at that and moved in to press another kiss to his lips. Then you buried your face against his chest again while he wrapped his arms around you closer.

“Would you mind saying it again?”, Astarion whispered softly.

For a moment, you were confused but then caught on. You lifted your head again to look directly into his open and shining red eyes: “I love you, Astarion.”

His eyes started to shine even more: “I love you, Tav.”

And you grinned at each other giddily until you had to press your head against his shirt and let out a little squeal of happiness and kick your feet while you heard and felt Astarion’s soft laugh rumbling through his chest.

Then you snuggled up against each other until you both lay comfortably and you both drifted off into your trance – while your hearts had yet moved a bit closer together.

[nushkiespeaks]

I never knew romanticizing DEPRESSION and being SUICIDAL can be considered cool, because-

LOWKEY PEOPLE PORTRAY ARJUN AS DEPRESSED AND SUICIDAL AND TAG IT AS HUMOR!

I don't know how did everyone arrive to this conclusion that Arjun suffers from depression, questioning self-worth and lowkey suicidal. 

Tell me honestly, did you ever think this man, who bows down in front of Krishna during Geeta gyaan with a charismatic presence, ever to be suicidal?!

No right?

Basically that was our childhood, and as we grew up, we stopped reading and BELIEVING the texts :)

Either we go with the flow of what others say, or just skim through the texts without understanding anything, or just cherry pick verses that suite their narratives. 

Well, that has resulted into a characterization of Arjun who is like, suffering from mental health problems and so on-

If someone has read the entire Mahabharat, he knows that Arjun is not the way he is thought to be; specially HE IS NOT DEPRESSED OR SUICIDAL anywhere! 

Arjun was anything but pretentious of his FEELINGS and it is clearly visible once you read the texts carefully! 

I don't know why you guys tend to confuse moral retainment with depression, O God!

Just because Arjun analyzed before reacting, or took time to analyze what would've happened, you tend to call him depressed, like really?

In fact, he was the one who was the most stable Pandav after the Dyut incident! He is the one who consoles Bheem and Yudhishthir mostly! Tell me, if a person is suicidal, can he do that? NEVER!

Now some intellectuals will come and bark how Arjun used to hide his depression and pretend he was okay....

*laughs like a hyena* Guys, if Arjun had 'pretended' to be okay, then you wouldn't have that huge Geeta gyaan popping up in Mahabharat where Arjun literally pours himself out like a tsunami in front of Krishna. And this man 'pretended' to be okay....*smh*.

And if Arjun was genuinely depressed, he wouldn't have been able to shoot such intellectual questions to Krishna during Geeta, nor absorb it with his full potential! Removing doubts from mind is not same as DEPRESSION guys! 

This guy does penance for years, handles Bheem during Dyut rightfully, is the one who instilled faith among his brothers after Dyut, does penance again for five years, stays in HEAVEN and kills Nivatakavachas, stays one year as Brihannala and fights Kauravas single-handedly, mind it and also steals clothes for Uttaraa---and the audacity to label such a lively guy as DEPRESSED.

This guy has a friend circle dude, friend circle! He relaxes, sipping a bit of wine and gossips with Krishna casually and laughing! 

You call this guy depressed?

He ventures out in picnics the most! Takes his wives, also accompanies Krishna for his marriages, and you call this guy depressed? 

DO you guys even know what DEPRESSION is?

 Ki kahi bhi aise hi use kiye jaarhe ho bas 'cool' banne keliye?

Show me one stance where Arjun suffers from acute depression like you guys portray him?

Ab banda apne family members ke marne ke baad roye bhi nahi? Wo bhi isliye ro rha kyuki wo DEPRESSION me hai?

Thora dimaag lagaya karo yaar! Har cheez depression nahi hota!

If someone gets hurt and starts crying, imagine a five year old child crying after falling down, he is depressed?

Peeps literally pick up a few stances from the war part of Mahabharat where Arjun is crying over Bheeshm, Abhimanyu etc, and show him to be DEPRESSED, SUICIDAL and what not!

So what is he supposed to do, laugh? Celebrate, o wow my family members are getting killed? Behen ke pakoro, wo AISA karta na, tab hota wo actual me DEPRESSED!

HE REACTS LIKE HOW A HUMAN IS SUPPOSED TO REACT GUYS!

You think one can perform years of penance after being depressed? Really? Do you guys know how much mental power is required to do penances, get such powerful astras, our boi even fought with Mahadev guys! HE LITERALLY SPENDS TIME IN HEAVEN! Do you think Indra is going to allow someone who is mentally depressed and suicidal in his abode? Is he then qualified enough to go to the heavens and simultaneously learn weapons, dancing and singing?

THE MENTAL POWER REQUIRED TO DO SO, CAN YOU GUYS IMAGINE?!

And you tend to call this guy SUICIDAL.....*rubs my temple* 

Sach sach batao, aur koi mila nahi tha kya? 🤣🤣🤣🤣Seriously guys, Arjun ko depressed? 

Ek minute ke liye mai Yudhishthir ka maan lu ki self guilt and all, lekin tumlog Arjun ko hi.... 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Behen, Bhagwan Nar jis din depression me ajaega na, usdin tumhari aur humari existence bhi khatam hojani hai usidin.😂😂😂😂

To ye TV serial aur Fictions se Arjun ka character analysis karna bandh karo, aur thora BORI padhlo 😂.

Aur please, Google se Depression aur Suicidal hone ka meaning bhi check karlena....ya ye bhi mujhe hi batana padega?

Don't try to be cool, for you guys appear to be like a fool.

[rubyvroom]

Ed Zitron lays it all out here.

You are the victim of a con — one so pernicious that you’ve likely tuned it out despite the fact it’s part of almost every part of your life. It hurts everybody you know in different ways, and it hurts people more based on their socioeconomic status. It pokes and prods and twists millions of little parts of your life, and it’s everywhere, so you have to ignore it, because complaining about it feels futile, like complaining about the weather.  It isn’t. You’re battered by the Rot Economy, and a tech industry that has become so obsessed with growth that you, the paying customer, are a nuisance to be mitigated far more than a participant in an exchange of value. A death cult has taken over the markets, using software as a mechanism to extract value at scale in the pursuit of growth at the cost of user happiness.  These people want everything from you — to control every moment you spend working with them so that you may provide them with more ways to make money, even if doing so doesn’t involve you getting anything else in return. Meta, Amazon, Apple, Microsoft and a majority of tech platforms are at war with the user, and, in the absence of any kind of consistent standards or effective regulations, the entire tech ecosystem has followed suit. A kind of Coalition of the Willing of the worst players in hyper-growth tech capitalism.  Things are being made linearly worse in the pursuit of growth in every aspect of our digital lives, and it’s because everything must grow, at all costs, at all times, unrelentingly, even if it makes the technology we use every day consistently harmful.

What this writer terms the Rot Economy is a larger system that creates the enshittification we know and loathe. It's the constant irrational pursuit of growth. Rot Economy is a great term for a definition that has been slowly coming into focus from one horizon to the other. Not just tech. This essay focuses on Spotify and Meta and speaker software and websites but you could easily extrapolate from here to absolutely everything.

I’m not writing this to complain, but because I believe [sic] that we are in the midst of the largest-scale ecological disaster of our time, because almost every single interaction with technology, which is required to live in modern society, has become actively adversarial to the user. These issues hit everything we do, all the time, a constant onslaught of interference, and I believe it’s so much bigger than just social media and algorithms — though they’re a big part of it, of course.  In plain terms, everybody is being fucked with constantly in tiny little ways by most apps and services, and I believe that billions of people being fucked with at once in all of these ways has profound psychological and social consequences that we’re not meaningfully discussing. 

Not to mention being actively fucked with in every way, in every aspect of our lives, by every company trying to suck the last drops of profit from us every minute of the day. How does that constant frustration contribute to the ways we treat each other as family, friends, neighbors, in politics, in everyday interactions?

Anyway, go and read.

[daisynik7]

This is for your y2k!

“Photograph” by Ed Sheeran for Toji Fushiguro - angst

We keep this love in a photograph, we made these memories for ourselves.

Read Part Two - Make You Feel My Love

Pairing: Toji x f!reader

Word Count: ~3.1k

cw: implied family abuse, angst, some fluff, modern day-au, no curses au, a kiss, time skip

Summary: Toji Zenin is scary; he’s the most intimidating boy in your class. When you’re paired with him for a group project, you’re nervous that he’s as bad as he seems. However, you learn that behind that hard exterior is a person yearning just to be normal. 

Author’s Note: The first story for the y2k karaoke party! Inspired by “Photograph” by Ed Sheeran. Thank you @gojoshooter for submitting this song/request! I hope you like this one! Divider created by @/cafekitsune.

You meet Toji in high school, when you’re paired up randomly for a project during your last semester of senior year. He’s a transfer student, having just joined a month ago, introducing himself briefly with a scowl on his face, uninterested in anything. Aside from his obvious stature, the evident scar running across his mouth stands out. Most of your peers avoid him, intimidated by his overwhelming presence. He’s bigger than everyone else, both in height and muscle; he looks like someone you don’t want to mess with. Even teachers do their best to evade him, leaving him to his own devices in the back corner of the classroom. At least he isn’t disruptive; most of the time, he keeps to himself. 

Of course, in a school as small as yours, gossip spreads like wildfire. They say he comes from a prominent family, the “Zenin’s”. You’ve never heard of them; apparently, they are notoriously elitist and filthy rich. So, it surprises you that a son of the Zenin clan would attend a public school like yours rather than a private institution. Maybe he’s different. 

Everyone dreads group projects, let alone randomly assigned group projects. Everyone is on pins and needles, waiting to hear who their partner is. When your name follows his, your heart sinks into your belly. Sighs of relief wash over the rest of your classmates, thankful that they aren’t you. Taking a deep breath, you get up from your seat, slowly walking towards him. When you’re by his desk, he doesn’t look up. You clear your throat to say, “Hello. I guess we’re partners for this project.”

He scoffs, twirling a pen between his fingers, brows furrowed, irritated already. “Great,” he mutters, sarcastically. 

Okay, maybe he’s not different.

~~~

Your teacher calls this project “A Week in the Life”. Basically, you’re tasked to capture your partner’s daily routines throughout the week in the form of photographs. Each student is given a disposable camera, loaded and ready to use. Once developed, you’re supposed to put them together into a collage, decorating it however you desire. A short essay is also required, describing what you will learn about the other person after spending this time with them. You have an entire month to complete everything. Weekdays are repetitive, considering most of the day you’re in school; it’s the afternoons, nights, and weekends that set each person apart from the other.  

“I’m not inviting you into my house,” Toji says, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“But that’s part of the project. I’m supposed to see what you do on a daily basis.” You resist the urge to sound equally as annoyed, not wanting to start off on the wrong foot.

He glares at you, hunched over his desk. “I avoid going home as much as possible. That’s what I usually do.”

You swallow hard, unsure how to respond. Eventually, you murmur, “Well then, you can do me first. We’ll just figure yours out later.”

He shrugs, unenthused. “Whatever.”

You pull your phone out of your pocket, sliding it towards him. “Let’s exchange numbers so we can coordinate our schedules. We can start next week.” He doesn’t argue, pushing his cell to you to do the same. 

As planned, the following Monday, Toji begins taking random photos of you during the school day. It starts off in class when he captures you working at your desk. Other students are doing the same, so it isn’t as awkward as you expect it to be. Still, it feels odd being watched by Toji through the lens of the camera.

At lunchtime, he sits with you and your friends in the cafeteria, his big body smushed next to yours as you munch on your meal. You notice that he hasn’t brought anything to eat except for a protein bar and sports drink. Not thinking anything of it, you split your egg salad sandwich into two triangles, handing him one. He glances at it, then at you, confused. “What?”

“Eat it.”

He makes a face, taking it reluctantly, having the audacity to sniff it before taking a bite. When he doesn’t say anything, expression relaxing, you smile to yourself, satisfied. It’s gone two bites later, and from your peripheral, you see him lick the excess off his thumb. Mouth still full, he mumbles a brisk, “Thanks,” snapping his drink open to take a swig. 

After school, you attend a book club meeting that’s hosted every Monday by your friend. Toji snaps a photo of you and your group posing with your book for this month. Before you leave for dinner, a few of the girls whisper to you about how hot he is, how lucky you are to be paired up with such a hunk. How scary he comes off with his scowls and glares. They’re so loud, you’re certain he can hear, but he doesn’t mention anything about it. That is, until you’re alone with him, walking home together. 

“So, do you think I’m scary?” He has his hands in his pockets, looking down at the ground where he walks besides you. 

The question catches you off guard. “Huh?”

“Do you think I’m scary?” he repeats, looking at you now, smirking. 

You grin. “Maybe a little bit at first. Not so much anymore.”

“What changed?”

“I saw you inhale that sandwich. The tough guy act disappeared in that moment.”

“Hey, that thing was tiny. I could have swallowed it in one bite,” he chuckles, kicking a pebble on the ground. “And I’m not putting on a tough guy act. This is just who I am.”

You giggle softly, smiling at him. “Well, I’m looking forward to getting to know you better, Zenin.”

“Toji. Call me Toji.” 

~~~

Dinner with your parents goes by smoothly. You’ve prepared them for this special visitor, urging them to be on their best behavior and not judge a book by his cover. Naturally, your mother is startled when his big frame enters through the doorway, but when he bows to her, introducing himself respectfully, she eases up. After a quick tour of your house, Toji snaps shots of you helping your parents in the kitchen. With the whole spread laid out on the table, he takes another photo before you all gather around to eat. 

Much like earlier in the day, Toji scarfs his meal, mumbling out compliments to the chef. Your parents are thrilled, dropping more servings onto his plate, watching with pride as their cooking is devoured. You can’t help wanting to capture this memory, so you retrieve your own disposable camera from your backpack, taking his picture. He doesn’t seem to mind. 

The two of you eat ice cream sandwiches in your backyard while your parents wash the dishes. The sun is setting, beautiful golden streaks shining from the horizon. Your classmate takes a candid of you sitting on the patio chair, staring at the last moments of daylight. “Do your parents cook like that every day?” he asks, finishing off the last of his dessert.

“Nah, they just wanted to impress you.”

“Well, I am thoroughly impressed. That was the best meal I’ve had in a long time.”

After just one day with him, you feel comfortable enough to ask, hoping that it isn’t crossing the line. “Do you dislike eating at home?”

He doesn’t respond right away, thinking of his answer carefully. “Yeah, I do.”

“Why?”

He smirks, running his thumb along the scar on his lips. “Dinners at my house don’t always end in dessert, if you know what I mean.” 

Your jaw drops, unable to contain your reaction. “You’re saying…”

He leans back into his seat. “Yup. Got a knife thrown at me.”

“What?!” 

Laughing, he nods. “After that, I didn’t like having dinners there.”

You’re tempted to ask for the whole story, but you know it’s pushing it. Instead, you offer, “Well, you’re always welcome here.”

It’s a simple comment. To you, it’s nothing. Maybe it’s because you’re used to offering kindness to others; it’s what you were raised to do. It’s what the people around you do. It’s common. Second-nature, really. 

But as Toji stares at you, wearing an expression you’ve never seen before, one of genuine gratefulness, you realize that to him, it’s not nothing. It’s special. 

Throughout the remainder of the week, Toji spends practically his whole day with you, morning, noon, and night. During this time, you learn that his family is wealthy, though he chose to attend this school on his own will, just to spite them. He considers himself an outcast, the black sheep of the Zenin clan, so much so that he even refuses to associate himself with the family name. And while he’s sure he’s better off away from the snooty rich kids of the school he would have attended, his intimidating appearance and less-than-friendly attitude has made him an outcast amongst your peers. You feel guilty being part of the problem, judging him before getting to know him. He’s actually easy to talk to. It helps that he’s an open book about his personal life. 

Saturday, you plan to go to the aquarium with your family, inviting him to tag along for the project (and for fun). Toji is at your doorstep right on time, dressed in a tight black tee shirt and grey sweatpants, accentuating his chiseled figure. There’s no denying it; he’s very attractive. You’d be lying to yourself if you said it hasn’t crossed your mind. But Toji doesn’t need people to be attracted to him; he needs a friend. And that’s what you’ll be to him. 

It’s a fun day, observing all the fish and aquatic creatures swimming in their tanks. He takes pictures whenever it’s appropriate, covering the flash with his finger as to not disturb any of the animals inside. You eat lunch together in the cafeteria, Toji offering to pay for it as thanks for all the kindness he was shown this week. Near closing time, you take one last stroll through the jellyfish section, marveling at the wonderfully bizarre invertebrates floating in the water. 

“I’ve never been to an aquarium before,” he admits, quietly admiring them beside you. His eyes twinkle with the glow of the iridescent jellyfish swimming in front of him.  

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

You nudge him playfully. “So, what do you think?”

He smiles, rubbing the spot on his arm that you touched. “Better than I expected.”

~~~

The following week is his turn. The closest you get to his mansion of a home is on the outside, not even through the gates. 

“This is for your own good,” he warns, throwing a twig aggressively between the spaces of the iron bars. 

You snap a quick photo with your disposable, not questioning it. When you’re finished, he smirks. “So, ready for some real fun?”

Toji spends his days after school at various locations. Basically everywhere except his own home. The public library, the gym, arcades, shopping malls, cafés, you name it. He’ll eat dinner at whatever restaurant his stomach fancies at the moment: Ramen, Takoyaki, steak, even instant ramen, depending on his mood. And while his life seems fun from the outside, like a kid in a candy store, it’s lonely. Except for when he’s with you.

Saturday is different from the other days. On the weekends, he goes to the beach, bag packed with his favorite books and snacks, ready to relax on the sand with the waves crashing against the shore. He sets up a large umbrella to cover both of you as you settle into the big blanket laid flat. He passes you one of his books, a volume of his favorite manga. The two of you read in a comfortable silence, sharing a bag of chips, fingers brushing against each other’s whenever you reach at the same time. 

Out of the blue, he comments, “This is nice. It’s normal.”

Laughing, you reply, “What do you mean?”

He sets his book down, looking at you. “Nothing about my family is normal. It’s just nice to feel like a human instead of a failure.”

Your eyes widen, uncertain how to respond. Before you can say anything, he murmurs, “Sorry. I didn’t meant to kill the mood.”

You close the manga, smiling gently at him. “Don’t be. I can’t imagine what it’s like. My life is very normal.”

“That’s what I like about you, though.”

Heat rushes into your cheeks at his statement, and maybe it’s your imagination, but you see him blush. You’ve taken enough pictures to complete your project, but there’s still a bit of film left. “Let’s take a picture together,” you suggest, holding the camera in your hand, trying to lighten the mood.

“Seriously? Why?”

“To celebrate being normal, even if it just for a day.”

He grins, scooting closer to you. “Okay.”

You lean against him, both of you smiling, capturing the moment with the click of your finger. 

~~~

Toji doesn’t stop eating lunch with you. Even with your photos at the lab, being developed, he remains by your side, eating the extra sandwich you always pack for him now. Occasionally, he’ll stop by for dinner, always welcomed by your parents. On the other days, you accompany him to whatever restaurant he’s craving. 

When the photos are complete, you pick them up together, not wanting to share them yet, hoping to be surprised on the day they’re displayed in the classroom. At home, you compile the pictures into a stylish collage, decorating the borders with fun stickers, smiling as you gaze at each photo of him. One at the arcade, holding a toy guy in his hands with the high score flashing in the background. Another at the gym, where’s he’s kicking a punching bag, making it look far too easy. Finally, there’s the last photo you took at the beach, the two of you posing for the camera. It’s a cute picture, one that shows two people who live very different lives happily enjoying their time together. You tape it right in the middle. 

When everyone’s posters are hung around the classroom, many people flock to Toji’s, desperate for a glimpse in his mysterious life. Many gawk at the mansion behind the gates, unaware of the dark secrets it holds. The girls ogle the gym picture, while the boys admire it, asking for workout tips. Toji looks pleased with how his collage turns out, especially intrigued by the photo in the center. “You included the one of us, huh?” 

“It’s too cute, isn’t it? I had to include it.”

He smiles at you. “I totally agree.”

He walks you home that afternoon, a usual part of his routine now. Curious, you ask, “So, what did you write about me for your essay?”

“I wrote about how nerdy you are, going to class and willingly going to clubs after school. For fun,” he emphasizes, rolling his eyes, teasing you.

You poke his arm playfully. “And…?”

“I said that you and your family are really nice. And that your parents should be chefs,” he adds, grinning.

You laugh, hooking your arm around his. “That’s more like it.” 

Before you know it, you’re at one of the parks he frequents, sitting side-by-side at his favorite bench. “What did you say? About me?” he asks, staring at his hands in his lap. 

Without thinking, you rest your head on his shoulder. “That you’re not actually scary. You’re just you. And who you are is pretty great. Really great, actually.” 

There’s a pause while he processes what you said. Afraid that it’s too far, you attempt to back away from him, but he catches you first, pulling you in for a kiss. It’s hesitant, like he’s unsure if this is okay. And when you place your hand on his chest, feeling his quickening heartbeat race against your fingertips, the kiss deepens, his lips parting open to slide his tongue inside your mouth. Before it gets any further, he pulls off quickly. Electricity hangs in the air, buzzing on your lips, tingling on every inch of your skin.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, throat heavy. “I shouldn’t have done that. I just thought – ”

“You’re right. You shouldn’t have,” he spits out, jaw clenched, avoiding your gaze. It’s a harsh voice you haven’t heard the entire time since the start of your friendship.

“But I thought you liked – ” 

“You’re wrong. I don’t. I – ,” he swallows, struggling to get the words out. “And I never will.” He stands up, turning his back towards you, leaving you alone with tears streaming down your face, embarrassed, confused, and heartbroken. 

It’s the last time you’ll see of him. He doesn’t come back to class after that incident. Rumor has it that he came in early the next morning to gather all his belongings, which wasn’t much to begin with. There’s more gossip about it, of course, ridiculous chatter. Eventually, they fade, and his name is no longer uttered by anyone, including you. Months pass, and gradually, new memories overtake the old ones. Life goes on without him. You don’t notice the center photo of your collage is gone until you collect it at the end of the schoolyear. 

He’ll never tell you that it’s for your own good. That turning his back on you is the best option to keep you safe. No matter how much he opens up to you, his reality is much worse than you can ever know. Hurting you is his way of protecting you. Because loving you is too dangerous, especially for someone like him.  

~~~

Ten years later, you’re an elementary school teacher in your hometown. You planted yourself right where your roots grew. There is nothing but grand memories in this place you’re lucky to call your home. The only exception is the abandoned plot of land where the Zenin mansion was demolished a few years ago without any explanation. You preserve its memory in the form of a tattered photograph, forgotten somewhere in your closet.

Today, there’s a new student transferring into your kindergarten class; an adorable little boy with jet black hair and long eyelashes named Megumi. He reminds you of someone from your past, someone you kept buried in the back of your mind a while ago, for your own sanity.

Little do you know that on the other side of the door, Toji Fushiguro leans against the wall, listening carefully to your familiar voice introducing yourself to his son. He smiles to himself, the month you shared together all those years ago fondly replaying in fast forward in his mind. He’s no longer a Zenin, unleashed from the cruelty of his ancestry, liberated from the life he was cursed with from birth. Free to love who he wants without fearing that their life is in danger by the hands of his wretched family. 

He sticks his hands in his pocket, fingers brushing along the corners of the withered photo of the two of you smiling at the beach. With a deep breath, he grips the handle of the door, finally ready to face you at long last.

[rockyp77mk3]

Right my side lost and your side won. I am trying to understand but I want to know what is the big difference between the Progressives and conservatives? Why do Progressives piss off conservatives so much? We only want equality and fairness.

Thank you for the question. These questions are deceptively simple but they require somewhat complicated answers. I will try.

Oh, I am not just a conservative. I am a Constitutional Conservative which means that the Constitution is considered the supreme law of the land. It is the guide against which all legislation, taxes, regulations, and issues are judged. It applies equally to all and is therefore a protection for all. It can only be changed by amendment and is not subject to any foreign law or restrictions even those promoted by the UN.

Since I like checklists I will try to answer your questions in some kind of order.

Problem solving. When presented with a problem Conservatives try to solve it using known facts and reason. Progressives tend to use spending and regulation. I have never witnessed a Progressive try to solve a problem (Or perceived problem) in any other way than raising taxes or sponsoring legislation that further truncates our individual rights.

Control. Progressives seem to love control, either being in control or being controlled in every aspect of life. They want to tell or be told what people can own, how far people can succeed in life, what people can think, what people can eat, what people can drive, and lets not forget what people should do with the very money they earn. In that last one Progressives are content to confiscate wealth through taxes for redistribution to their liking. Conservative just want to be left alone. We want to keep most of what we earn, we want to enjoy our enumerated rights unfettered by social pressure or governmental overreach. We would like government to literally get the Hell out of our lives.

Lack of tolerance. When a progressive gets an idea they believe it to be so good that it must be shared with (Inflicted upon) others even at the point of a governmental bayonet. Socialism for instance, also limiting 2ND Amendment rights, private property rights, etc. Conservatives don't care what you want to do as long as we are left alone to do what we want to do. If you don't like guns, fine, don't own one. If you want to be a socialist fine, get fifty of your closest friends and create a commune, I wish you luck. Do what ever you like, just leave me and my rights alone.

Happiness. Conservatives seem to be relatively happy. Progressives aren't happy unless they are angry or upset about a situation that either happened over 100 years ago or is an isolated incident, or is just something with which they don't agree. Progressives aren't always right but they are always certain. In that pseudo certitude they are willing to trample any and all rights. Individuals be damned the cause is all.

The US is always wrong. No matter the issue Progressives will unerringly take the side of anything that goes against the US. Progressives will support despots, terrorist groups, rouge nations, and criminal politicians as long as those support the inherent anti US sentiment of the hard left. Conservatives acknowledge that the US makes mistakes, sometimes hideous mistakes but at our core we are generally damn good. For example, if Kamala had won you won't see too many Conservatives wanting to leave the US. We are Americans and will stay and fight to the last.

Equality. Progressive want an equality of outcome. A guarantee that all people will have the same success. They call this "Equity". Conservatives believe that equality means that all people will have a fair chance at success. That hard work, effort, and inventiveness will pay off. You can't ensure outcomes only starting points.

There are more but you get the idea. By the way, Progressives don't piss us off all that much, we just don't want you in charge.

[blackgirlsrxck]

Guys My Age

Lewis Hamilton x Black!Fem NASCAR Reader

Summary: What happens if the reader decides to go to her first Grand Prix? Who will she meet? What will happen?

Note: Let's face it. Lewis looks AMAZING for almost being 40. He doesn't look a day over 27. Anyways, hope you enjoy let me know what you think in the comments. :)

Word Count: 1.5k

 I've always been passionate about racing. It's been my dream since I was a little girl to become one of the best drivers of my generation. I've faced numerous challenges and obstacles along the way, but I never let them deter me from pursuing my goals.

While NASCAR has been my main focus, I've always been a huge fan of Formula 1 as well. The sport’s glamour, speed, and international appeal fascinated me. One race that stood out in my mind was the prestigious Monaco Grand Prix. The glitz and glamour associated with the event seemed like a dream, and I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to witness it firsthand. So, when I received an invitation to attend the Monaco Grand Prix as a guest, I couldn't believe my luck. It was an opportunity of a lifetime, and I eagerly packed my bags and headed to the beautiful principality.

As I arrived at the track, the excitement in the air was palpable. The sound of engines revving and the smell of burning rubber filled the atmosphere. I watched in awe as the sleek F1 cars zoomed past me, each one a marvel of engineering and speed.

Little did I know that fate had something extraordinary in store for me. As I made my way through the paddock, I caught the attention of a few drivers. There stood Max Verstappen, Lando Norris, and Daniel Riccardo. They made their way towards me. “No way am I meeting you, Y/n Y/L/N one of the greatest NASCAR drivers in this generation.” Spoke Daniel. He recognized me as one of the best drivers of my generation. I didn’t know what to say. This was so surreal to have these F1 superstars fangirling over me, a young NASCAR driver.

We quickly struck up a conversation, bonding over our shared love for racing. They invited me to join them for dinner later that evening, an opportunity I couldn't pass up. Eager to meet more of the F1 drivers and learn about their experiences, I accepted their invitation. If someone would have told me that I would be talking to some of the best drivers on the paddock and it would result in me being invited to dinner with them, I would have laughed square in their faces. This is truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I just hope they don’t pick the most expensive restaurant. Hey, I might be a race car driver, but that doesn’t mean I’m willing to spend $100 on a burger that I could get for $7 at Burger King.

The race went on as usual. A few of the drivers had to DNF due to car problems. Max Verstappen ended up winning which wasn’t a shocker to anyone. Fernando Alonso P2, and a Esteban Ocon P3. I decided to make my way to my hotel to get ready for the dinner. 

The dinner took place at a luxurious restaurant overlooking the stunning Monaco harbor. By the looks of it, I would probably be paying $100 for a burger.  As I walked in, I couldn't help but feel a wave of nervousness wash over me. All the top drivers of the 2023 F1 season were present, including the legendary Lewis Hamilton, a man who had broken numerous records and established himself as one of the greatest drivers in the history of the sport. Not knowing what to do with myself, I just stood there awkwardly. Daniel finally noticed me and made his way over. 

“Y/n, I’m so glad you could make it, we saved you a seat next to Lewis,” I nodded my head and made my way to sit down. I introduce myself to everyone. A few of the drivers started to ask me questions about my career. That was until Fernando Alonso asked me how I got into NASCAR. 

“Becoming a NASCAR driver wasn't an easy journey for me. It required hard work, dedication, and a lot of determination. From a young age, I had a deep love for speed and competition, and I knew that racing was my true calling. Growing up in a small town, my exposure to motorsports was limited. However, my passion burned brightly, and I immersed myself in everything related to racing. I devoured books, watched races on TV, and even tried my hand at go-kart racing whenever I could.

As I got older, my dream of becoming a NASCAR driver became stronger. But I faced a significant hurdle – lack of representation. As a young Black woman in a predominantly white and male-dominated sport, I knew that the road ahead wouldn't be easy. However, I refused to let that deter me. I started by joining local racing clubs and participating in regional competitions. Every weekend, I would head to the local tracks, ready to prove myself on the asphalt. The adrenaline rush I felt as I sat behind the wheel, the wind rushing past me, was exhilarating.

With each race, I pushed myself to the limit, fine-tuning my driving skills and honing my instincts. I learned from my mistakes, analyzing every lap and seeking guidance from seasoned racers who were willing to share their knowledge with me. But it wasn't just about my driving skills. I realized that to make it in NASCAR, I needed to be physically and mentally strong. I hit the gym, working on my endurance and building the strength required to handle the powerful machines I would eventually drive.

As I continued to race, word started to spread about my talent and determination. It wasn't long before I caught the attention of sponsors and racing teams. The opportunity I had been waiting for finally arrived when I received an invitation to join a development program for aspiring NASCAR drivers. The program pushed me to my limits, testing every aspect of my abilities. But I thrived under the pressure, constantly improving and proving myself on the track. The hard work paid off when I secured a spot on a NASCAR team as a rookie driver.

My NASCAR journey had officially begun. I faced challenges along the way, both on and off the track. There were moments of self-doubt when the weight of the industry's expectations felt overwhelming. But I refused to let those moments define me. I pushed through, determined to break down barriers and pave the way for future generations. I knew that my success wouldn't just be a personal victory; it would be a symbol of progress and representation in a sport that desperately needed it.

As I raced in NASCAR, I became a role model for aspiring drivers who shared my background and dreams. I aimed to inspire them, to show them that they too could break down barriers and achieve greatness. Becoming a NASCAR driver wasn't just about winning races and championships. It was about proving that dreams know no bounds, and that passion and talent could overcome any obstacle. It was about changing the face of the sport and leaving a lasting legacy for others to follow.” I see the way Lewis looked at me as I finish my story. He had this sparkle in his eye that I saw only one time before. With my ex boyfriend, before he became a douchebag. 

As I mingled with the drivers, I felt a connection with each of them. They were incredibly supportive and shared stories of their own racing journeys. Lewis, in particular, seemed intrigued by my background and accomplishments. His charisma and passion for the sport were captivating, and I found myself drawn to him in ways I hadn't expected.

Over the course of the evening, Lewis and I spent a lot of time talking. We discovered that we shared many interests outside of racing and had a similar outlook on life. Lewis talked about how he became vegan and how he eventually got his dog Roscoe on the diet. There wasn’t one thing uninteresting about him. Despite the 20-year age difference, our connection seemed undeniable. But as the night came to an end, doubts began to creep into my mind. Would our age difference become an obstacle in the pursuit of a romantic relationship? Would people judge us? Would the age gap eventually become a source of tension between us?

As I returned to my hotel room that night, my mind was filled with conflicting emotions. On one hand, I couldn't deny the feelings I had developed for Lewis. On the other hand, the practical side of me worried about the challenges we might face. I open the door to my room and make my way to the king sized mattress where I fell on. Closing my eyes, I slowly start to let myself drift to sleep, until my phone vibrated. 

It was a Instagram notification from lewis. I clicked on it to see what said. I know you felt what I felt tonight. In the two hours we’ve known eachother, I feel like we were supposed to meet. It just makes sense. We make sense. Despite the fact that  I’m old enough to be your father.  If you feel the same way meet me at room 388 in 30 minutes. -lewis <3  Was this really happening? Am I hallucinating? I think I need a drink. Besides I’m in Monaco, its legal. 

To be continued… 

[spankedquail]

A Good Girl's New Year

Eeek. Daddy’s been a little under the weather lately, and the holidays have been full of cozy vibes, lazy mornings, and indulgent nights. But as he reminded me tonight—our last night of lazing around—those days are over.

"You’re going to be pushed in January."

It wasn’t a suggestion. It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.

A promise of structure, discipline, and accountability. A promise that I’ll be held to higher standards—stripped of my excuses, pushed past my comfort zone, and made to rise.

Goals for me in 2025

Health I’ll be wearing my fitness tracker pretty much 24/7, other than during showers. It’s more than a tool to track progress; it’s a symbol of ownership, a reminder that my body is his to guide and shape. The tracker syncs to my phone, but my husband has complete access to my phone, of course. Each night, he’ll review the day’s data—steps, workouts, vitals, sleep, calories burned. When the numbers don’t meet expectations, a reckoning will swiftly follow with his belt.

Losing 10 pounds and then maintaining a goal weight range is non-negotiable. Calories will be tracked diligently. Slipping up isn’t an option—Daddy’s discipline ensures I stay on course.

Daddy will work with both me and my fitness trainer to ensure I’m meeting exercise goals. Running farther, building endurance, and achieving milestones that challenge me physically.

Building Good Habits Every morning, my weight will be tracked before showering, between 8:00 and 8:15. Bedtime routines will be consistent, ensuring I get enough rest to perform my best. Deviations from this structure will of course be corrected, swiftly and thoroughly. There's nothing worse than getting paddled first thing in the morning, so I'll need to push myself to not indulge in sleeping in.

He wants to increase my corner time and transform it into more of a daily ritual, a space for reflection and accountability. The corner time for this kind of use case won't be long -- just ten minutes before bed to ground myself in our dynamic, for example. Maybe ten minutes before we leave the house for important events to center myself. The corner time he thinks will be most helpful for our marriage is ten minutes after work (especially on the days I work from home) to transition into the right mindset after the work day. My husband insists on this because he knows how much it helps me reset and realign.

Financial Accountability This year, my husband will take full control of my discretionary spending. For regular home items, he’ll review my purchases to ensure I’m sticking to the essentials. For personal items, I’ll be limited to a debit card (the Good Girl Card) that he tops up according to his whm. Emergency funds are strictly for emergencies—no exceptions. Shopping habits will be curbed, and purchases monitored. If I slip, I know the consequences will involve a long and hard correction. I expect this to be my biggest challenge this year.

Behavior Training This is constant. I’m expected to be accepting of his authority, never rebellious or disobedient. This comes somewhat naturally, but having small reminders of my place in our marriage are important as life can get in the way.

Routine corner time and regular paddlings or strappings ensure I stay aligned with his expectations. We'll continue our Sunday maintenance discipline to reinforce our dynamic and curb any signs of budding bad behavior.

When I’ve faltered, the punishment isn’t just corrective—it’s humbling. But even in those moments, I feel safe, knowing that every correction comes from a place of care and investment in my growth.

Intellectual Growth Two books a month—Daddy picks one, something that will intrigue and challenge me, and I pick the other. Reading isn’t just for pleasure; it’s for discipline, expansion, and focus. He ensures I don’t take the easy way out, pushing me to engage with ideas that make me uncomfortable or stretch my understanding.

Permission for Vices Alcohol and marijuana require permission, with a strict cap of no more than two alcoholic drinks per night if we’re out, and only with his approval. The control isn’t restrictive; it’s grounding. Knowing he has the final say helps me stay intentional about my choices, rather than indulging mindlessly.

Fun and Travel While my husband holds the reins on my finances, he definitely encourages me to invest in experiences and memories. Fun travel plans with friends are going to be a big part of my 2025. As long as savings / investment goals (that he dictates and manages, of course) are hit, he's happy to discuss a plan and a budget and help me make it happen. I often travel with him, but for a few trips a year it's just with a friend or a group of friends. He trusts me to behave myself, and to connect with him regularly with updates.

Maintaining Standards My household chores remain the same, with no reduction or addition in expectations. Each task is to be done diligently and in a timely manner. He doesn't like to remind me of my responsibilities. I know the consequences if I let things slide.

This year is about growth, discipline, and deepening our dynamic. Daddy’s control isn’t just about rules—it’s about shaping me into the best version of myself. His strictness isn’t just punishment; it’s care. His authority isn’t just dominance; it’s love.

Every correction, every expectation, every act of guidance reminds me of this: I’m his.

(We don't really do things like set quotas for me providing him with sexual pleasure or anything like that. My body is his to mold, train, and use at his whim, so sex isn't really something that's really negotiated or denied him pretty much ever. My husband is a sensible man, and his judgement is final on this like it is on everything else.)

Hope you all have a happy and fulfilling new year!

[shuenkio]

"Enhypen"

Red string with you˚⊹ ᰔ

Paring: Enha X m!reader

Genre: fluff, emotion, love

Red string theory

Do not copy my works (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)⁠♥

CRD to all divider

Some parts are overdo words ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ

Heeseung: Living a life as a musician he is, are sure lonely, all alone because he spends all his time every single day in the studio, morning to noon, noon to night, night to midnight, recycling over and over again. One day, when going to the party with his friends, they brought up the love topic and asked him if he had a partner like them, they had been waiting for him to have a romantic life forever yet the man still had no one. He got the look, got money, got everything, just like everyone's dream of. He just responds with a slow nod, he also waiting for some perfect time to have someone by his side however it's like the more he's waiting, the longer it gets. Once the party's over, he waves goodbye to his friends before making his way back home by walking since his apartment is not too far, he chooses to take a nice walk under the snowy rain. The walk seemed so pleasant and cold watching the snowflakes fall above him, making him realize a lot of things he never did before. As he keeps moving his feet zoning out, unexpectedly he bumps into a person who's also lost in their world. Both of them fall to the ground, gathering all their consciousness back before opening their eyes to see you intend your arm open to give them support.

"H-hey sorry to bump into you, are you alright?" He looks at you who's standing on top of him, along with a light street behind you hitting your back, making you look unreal and breathtaking. suddenly he feels like the world has stopped moving when you look at him, you're like someone that God sent to him, his heartbeat does a backflip. "You're the one... For me, I feel it"

Jay: The same goes with him. money? Millions. Look? Hot. Car and house? Check ✓ love? Loading. Born in such a wealthy family, when you seek real love would be a different story. Yes, you can have all the love you want with money, but money can't buy such thing as true love isn't it? It's required your efforts, sweat and tears to get "true love". On the way to his office, with his luxury business bag, an elevator, was about to close suddenly you appeared and quickly waved your hand as a signal for him to stop it for you. Once you enter, you thank him before standing beside him. The moment you make eye contact with him, he feels like his heart telling him you're the missing pieces he had been searching for all along, must make him, his!! "Be my boyfriend!!!" M/n answer "Pardon?" [Too short sorry shawty]

Jake: As the outgoing person he is, he knows what's best for himself and he doesn't need nobody telling him what he needs but as time forward, all his love leaves him for good with the only one reason "looks " Then he realizes they only love him for a short time because of his looks, they got bored with him. Is he just showing his true self? Why is it so hard for him to find someone suitable for him, who's made just for him? God loved giving a hard time, didn't he? Bar! It's the only place they understood him the most. He went to the bar and took a lot of shots, giving himself to the alcohol but no matter how much he drank, he was still sober just a slightly hot throat. You then also came to the bar, and it's happened to sit next to him since all the seats are all pack. You're also ordering the same drink as him too which makes him want to talk to you. Both of you are talking, and giggles how similar your life is before he said "Let's write our story into a better plot together, shall we? I know you're that person who can make my day brighter, I don't care about society against us, we can fight it aren't we?"

Sunghoon: He had some dark past with love. It's not his fault that he was an introvert, loved his comfort zone, used a cold tone whenever talking, and didn't like skin ship much. This is the reason why most people leave him too for their good he is cold, and can't bear him anymore. After all his ugly memory he started to become more heartless, even colder than before, and won't give a chance to anybody again. He's now a single young adult, living his life peacefully. However, the more he cut ties with people, the more isolated he felt. He needed someone, he needed somebody who could be here with him, accept for who he was, someone who was the same way as him. Ultimately he went to relax at his comfort place, the ice rink. As he moves his feet forward, his hand tucked inside his pocket, Out of the blue, You run into him, to your skating shoe won't stop moving as a result of a fall onto the top of him. Embarrassed, your hands are on his chest, you quickly get up and are about to apologize therefore he grips your body tight, and won't let go yet before asking. "I feel like we know each other before, have we?" Blushing, you said no. He continues "No, I mean... For real you're the person who always appears in my dream!!"

Sunoo: The social butterfly, there he goes again, making friends even when he was on the way to work, on the way home, whenever he saw someone he'd ask them how was their day, are they were okay, are they doing well, if they need something just tell him. He's perfect, not to mention that everyone had their flaws but for him, it's almost perfect from head to toe, he had friends, family, socialized well, didn't fear no one, and liked to speak what was on his mind, kind, and everyone's definitely like him. One thing he's lacking is love, he's always giving everyone his love, and comfort words, for everyone's needs but did his love return to him? No. Sometimes he questions himself is he worth it? Did all his hard work pay off? He knows only very few like him for how happy he is, and not his true self. Little did they know he was craving for attention and love back. Consequently, God answered his prayer. Holiday arrived, and when he was cleaning his room, he heard someone knocking on his apartment's door. He went to open it and revealed you checking the room number. He greets you with his bright smile before taking you in(roommate). Day after day, both of him and you become more comfortable with each other, and feel just right when together. And surprisingly he confesses his feeling to you. "I want to start my life with you M/N! The moment you came in I felt like a string had been connected, you are my home, my everything now, please accept this love of mine"

Jungwon: He's fine, he's ok, everything is alright, that's what he said to everyone concerned about him. He doesn't need anything, even love or he's just denying it? He might not need someone at the moment but surely fate will bring him someone whom, he never knew he needed before. he likes to take care of people surrounding him while taking all their worry and weight on his shoulders, alone. And now he said he doesn't need someone to take care of him when he has this kind of idiot thinking, put others before himself. As a result, fate plans to give him someone worthy of him. In a normal day of practicing taekwondo, when he went back home, earphones plugged inside his ear, without notice, someone bumped into him and spilled a drop of coffee on his shirt. "Hey watch where you going dude!!-" he paused. "I- I'm so sorry let me take my napkin" You take your napkin from your pocket before wiping it for him. "you seem familiar, are you around here?" He asked "Nope, but I also feel the same way, you look like someone I knew before" as you answered his question, a biker came from a distance and was about to drive past you two before you could do anything, he grabbed your shoulder turning you around before covering all the mud that's splashing on him. Both of your eyes meet, and explore each other for a second. "Now I know what my grandma means, the red string is real"

Ni-ki: "He looks mean" "He's so intimidating", "ugh I wish you were more friendly " and "Don't date him, he won't be worth it" Those words are like a knife, that's stabbing through his chest, just for a lil of love, why it is so hard. Is it because of how he looks? But who can change their look when they are born with it? Just to please the public eye? Or just to be in relationships? Won't be worth it. Living our life to the fullest would be more worthwhile than pleasing someone, satisfying them and not yourself. Someday he feels sad, he feels happy like how human emotion works. A deep part of his heart aches a little when he sees other people happy, with their partner, laughing happily like nothing to worry about, meanwhile, he living a life with no interesting plot. He always tells himself that he doesn't need it, he has to remember what his past looks like if he ever does, it's hurt but it's even more hurt when you crave something you can't have, isn't it? One fine evening, he checked his fridge and it was empty, the boy decided to go buy some groceries and come back. On the way back home, he happened to pass by the Han River fridge and thought it'd be nice to sit and relax there for a bit. He looked around and saw someone sitting alone on a bench, he went to take a sit next to him. "Hey, can I sit here?" Ni-ki asked with, a silent response. However, when he took a closer look he saw this boy was crying when his cap covered his face. Without further more, he began to rub your back and comfort you silently without speaking a word. After some words with him, he wanted to adopt you right away. "why don't we try this out together, our story is quite the opposite but our hearts are mutual, I don't know and I don't care who you are, feeling is feeling!" He announced, hoping you would agree to him, it might sound weird but you also wanted to" you reply with your stained tears "Let's fight together!"

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️ Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

[elysiuminfra]

my I Need Money post (AKA, please consider helping me survive my abusive homelife)

Hi! I’m Cecil. I’m a 20 year old transgender artist from Louisiana, and I can make YOU art!

Art is my sole source of income, and I’m in a bit of a pickle. I am an adult now, and I gotta do adult things. like pay off debt. My sibling is 17. We are both victims of abuse and child neglect at the hands of our alcoholic parents. It’s not so great, but I’d like it to get better.

I’m disabled from medical neglect, and have no way to get my driver’s license. I am unable to get a job, as I live too far from anywhere that would hire me, with no way to get there. This is all I got, man! I got two hands and a warrior’s spirit!

My sibling is my pride and joy and I want to see them flourish and thrive because they’re awesome. They struggle with untreated bipolar disorder and a slew of medical problems, and I want to get them treated for it. I also need to take my two cats to the vet. I have debt I have to pay off, and I have to buy myself food to combat my increasingly declining weight. My clothes don’t fit very well anymore. :(

Art and design is my life-long passion, and I’d like to do it for the rest of my life, but I can’t if I can’t get on my feet. If you’d like to view more of my work, you can check some out here, or view some of my more professional work on my commission website here.

If you would like to financially support me, consider commissioning or donating! Even just sharing helps!

https://ckncommission.carrd.co/

https://ko-fi.com/cknelysium

On a serious note, things at home are not great. This is where I talk about what is going on in detail. Details of abuse and neglect beyond this point. Not required reading, but necessary for context. Photos included.

It’s not that I’m just poor, my parents both work full-time jobs, and they manage to pay the bills. I have food and a roof over my head, but I own nothing but debt, and can’t financially support myself. My parents have been neglecting my sibling for years, and neglected me the same. They do nothing to help us.

My sibling is showing signs of health deterioration, likely malnutrition, and they don’t seem to be concerned about it at all. My health is getting worse, too, because my parents have ignored me when I have stated I am getting worse. I haven’t been to the dentist ever since I was a child. I live with disabling chronic pain and intense fatigue, and I don’t even have a diagnosis, since no one will take me to the doctor.

My sibling likely not going to graduate because my parents have not supported them at all with their mental health, education, or support them just in general. They live in total isolation alongside me. My parents are also the reason why I can’t get a job- they won’t teach me how to drive, and won’t provide transportation. I am physically trapped in my own house, and the only people who can drive refuse to take us anywhere. They also will not help clean the house, and they won’t help fix our dryer or washer, which are both broken. They won’t take our pets to the vet. They won’t spare any expenses for things that need to be done. They spend most of their money on alcohol. In my state, we are currently experiencing what one would call abuse and child neglect. This is one of the only times I have ever written, in detail, what my home life is like.

Our washer and dryer, both broken. We don’t have any flooring in that room. The other is part of our living room floor. I am the only person who cleans the house in any capacity, and when I do it never, ever stays clean. The dirt is from my dad alone. I need to cover doctor’s visits, medication, food for my sibling, and vet costs for my pets. I would also maybe like to have a little treat every once in a while. I can’t physically drive, but if I am able to get the money for it, I can force my parents to take care of things. Due to the, er, abuse, I am also isolated from the world at large and have no support system. All things described on my sibling have been happening to me for years, but I’m technically an adult now, so there’s little anyone can do for me. Things aren’t so great, but I think they can get better through blood sweat and tears. Which is why I have to step up and try to do all these things myself! A difficult task, but I want to make art into something I could do as a job. Please lord have mercy, I want to wash my clothes. I can even save up for a car, and teach myself how to drive, so I can finally reach independence. Without financial support, I can’t achieve that at all. I am very stressed about everything. I’m very isolated as a result of not being allowed to go anywhere. I don’t have anyone I can confidently trust with my home-life situation. I have no resources either, as I live in an area with very little support for adult victims of parental abuse. I’ve never made a plea like this before. I just want to be able to live and thrive and survive on my own, and I just can’t do it at this rate. If I can go to the doctor, I can get healthier, and undo all the years of medical neglect and actually hold a full-time job making coffee like I’d like. I’m afraid both me and my sibling will never get anywhere in life, and I don’t want that for them. I don’t want that for me. I want to finally start living. Thank you for reading, and getting to the end.

[demontonic]

Hayden Christensen - The first time - 2

let’s pretend that i didnt already start writing this for a separate story before i decided to just add it in for a part 2 please and thank you! Here’s part 1 if you haven’t read it and my masterlist for more!

word count: 1998

You had landed a part in Star Wars after years of auditioning for any possible role. You had struck mainstream fame after a horror movie you did for Rob Zombie. They had introduced an interesting character, they wanted to give Darth Vader a devotee, of course after Padme he never loved again but they wanted to show how exactly he dealt with it immediately after her passing. The audition was a scene in which said devotee breaks after pining for his approval the entire series.

“I have given you everything I am, I betrayed everything I ever knew, and I have done everything you ever asked! Just once I want you to see me, all I do, all I am is for you… Anakin.” Your voice sounded empty, defeated, broken and angry. Unrequited love in the worst case scenario possible, falling in love with a widowed sith lord. The story outside all the theatrics however was quite the opposite.

“Chosen one, how’s your morning old man?” You taunted in a merry voice, the taller blond man just shook his head. A smirk resting on his lips as he scoffed at the weak attempt of a joke.

“You aren’t too far behind me lady,” he dropped his bag onto the blue mat next to yours. Soon Hayden towered over you awaiting the inevitable comeback, something you’d grown accustomed to during training.

“Twelve years is enough for me to give you shit big papi,” you shoved his torso once you felt your neck stiffening at the uncomfortable angle it required to look at him.

“Well I thought you two weren’t supposed to get along,” Dave Filoni, you swear you could spend hours thanking this man for his work in the Star Wars universe, afterall he did create your character.

“Dave!”

“Hayden!”

They briefly shook hands, clearly having a deep respect and adoration for each other as long time coworkers and friends. Behind Dave however was this redhead, she was older than you but still younger than Hayden. She was the trainer's assistant who very much liked to try and correct Hayden, despite him having more experience than most of us. It wouldn’t have struck a chord with you, it shouldn’t have, but when she placed her hands around his arms to adjust his ‘lightsaber’ it angered you deeply. Luckily for you she seemed to be in quite the chipper mood, “Fan- fucking -tastic,” you thought while watching her drool over him.

“-And then we’ll get started on your final battle, sound good?” Dave looked between you and Hayden, a nod coming from you both before he walked away; being replaced by the main trainer, Harry.

“Morning, Milord, lover girl, Jess.” His voice was relaxed as always, he was a gentle man despite the skills he had taught us. He could cheer you up and stop you from being discouraged one moment and then completely body slam you the next. You were forever grateful he was the trainer, because if it was that snotty bitch Jessica, you’d never catch a break. He liked to refer to us using names related to our characters to ‘get us in the headspace’ you just thought it was cute.

“Morning puff, how was the commute this morning?” You teased since he always complained about traffic, but today he gave you a knowing look. Puff was the nickname you gave him, his hair was insanely fluffy and long it also was a very light blonde.

“Well I’ll have you know it was better today, I hope that’s how your choreography goes as well since we’re gonna start breaking down your final battle today.” He grabbed a pole before swiftly turning to us, a test he’d do every now and then to see if we could spring into action. Of course, being the teacher’s pet I’d met his ‘blade’ first.

“Ah my lover girl, always quick on her feet,” his praise made you smile while he stood down, returning to his previous spot.

“She still needs to keep her legs braced properly, her stance is weak,” Jessica spat while she walked over to Harry, twirling her pole in hand cockily. To be fair she’d won many matches against you, but as of recently you had the winning streak.

“Now Jess-”

“Wanna give it a go, see how weak my stance really is?” You proposed, walking out to the middle of the mat, leaving Hayden to stand lonesome in the corner. He loved your drive, your constant need to prove yourself against that wretched woman. Not many people fancied her, it wasn’t hard to understand why, Hayden was not one of those people.

“Any day, any time, you know I’m always ready,” she quickly met you in the middle, poised for action, awaiting your first strike.

“Are you?” You had been working on this rendition of Hayden’s move, it was your personal touch to the character. It was the famous ‘Obi-Ani’ however when the saber went behind your back the blade would be downturned. From there it would switch hands, strike once it was brought forth, then switched back to your right hand. That was exactly how you started, she hadn’t been able to combat it and in the fictional universe her hand would be severed. In the real world, you hit her wrist very hard, you hoped to see the bruise later on.

“Impressive! I didn’t know you had finally polished that move, I think it will do well in the choreo.” Harry quickly declared before getting in between you two. Hayden also approached you, his hand turned your shoulder to face him.

“What even was that?” He sounded impressed, almost childlike especially with the smile that accompanied the question.

“I took your move, and I made it my own master,” you said cockily with a shit eating smile. Harry’s praise made you smile, but Hayden’s interest made you jump for joy.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

It had been a few hours now, you had gone through 4 out of 10 parts of the battle and you were starting to get frustrated. The lightsaber part had never been an issue, but the footwork on your part was intense. It had to be because by now Anakin was Darth Vader his mobility was nothing like the prequels. To keep Hayden stiff they had pads on his arms and knees to limit the movement. On top of that there was a lot of dialogue throughout the beginning, so you kept circling each other, anticipating each other's next moves.

“Again, let's slow it back dow-“

“No. Let’s do it again, I just need to keep doing this until I get it.” It wasn’t a backflip or some mind blowing parkour, however the transition from running, to sliding, up to your knees; and then trying not to fall back while Hayden pushed down on you with his saber wasn’t easy.

“Do you want me to ease up?” God sometimes you just wanted to hit him with the pole when he tried to water it down for you. He came from a good place but amidst your frustration, and Jessica’s relentless corrections you were losing control.

“No, just start again at 3”

“Okay, on your line”

And with a heavy sigh you repeated the last line of your spiel. “Just once I want you to see me, all I do, all I am is for you… Anakin.” Your voice was harsh, it was unmissable so as Hayden began his attack, you deflected with more force than normal. Your jaw was clenched and your fists tight. Your eyes were set on Hayden, it was like you were doing the scene for the actual take, hell it was like you were actually living this scenario.

“Anakin is no more, I killed hi-“

“Liar!”

You stepped forward going back into the confrontation, your sabers clashing louder than before. Grunts leaving your throat as you push your tired body to perfection, until you catch sight of Jessica. Her glare stuck on you as if you killed her favorite person, it just made you fume. The next part is when you cut off Vader’s left hand and while normally you let Hayden put his hand down, you hit the back of his hand. Finally it had clicked that you weren’t okay, something was bothering you and he had a pretty good idea why. However he remained silent and followed through with the scene.

“All this time, did you think I might fall in love with you? Your pride consumes you, padawan.”

“And your grief consumes you.” You said through clenched teeth, this was where you had to jump off a blue block they’d set up. As you jumped down, you rolled onto your knees before running at Hayden, and to avoid his saber you slid beneath it. Once you turned to face him, you hurriedly got onto one knee finally making it on time before your sabers clashed. He pushed down on you and you could feel your shoe slip against the slick fabric of the mats. You were fed up with this plastic always fucking this part up so you pushed back with all your upper body strength.

Not your best moment.

Hayden fell back as you stood up and this finally calmed you down from your mood. You breathed heavily while you walked over to help him back up, twirling your saber mindlessly. You looked down at the blonde, holding your hand out wordlessly in embarrassment.

“Sorry, I just-“

“Let’s take a break, and talk about this.” Hayden interjected before hurriedly ushering you to the parking lot. There was nothing to say, it was childish of you to act out, it was embarrassing, you couldn't begin to process the emotions pooling in your stomach. He unlocked his car and opened the door for you without hesitation, he was scarily calm as you got in the passenger seat. It didn’t take long for him to get into the driver’s seat, long strides equaled less steps. Once he was seated the silence continued for a moment, you wouldn’t dare meet his gaze.

“Jessica is a hard person to be around, I’m sure you’ve had a few instances like that in the workplace. Y/N you are giving her what she wants when you get angry, people like that thrive off your misery.” Hayden Christensen, he had to be God’s favorite, he was so nice and understanding. A gentle giant trying to reason with a short psycho, perfect.

“It disappoints you as much as it does me-“

“I’m not disappointed in you, if anything I’m proud… surprised even.”

“Surprised?”

“Yeah, Harry assumed you would’ve chewed her head off by now. You saved me 20 bucks”

“So what I’m hearing is you think I could win in a fight.” The mood was lighter now, you both sported bright smiles while the banter continued.

“I wouldn’t have put money on you if I didn’t think you would,” he was being sincere and you knew by the way he spoke so effortlessly.

“Might not be for much longer, it’s like she gets worse everyday- that or my tolerance is getting shorter.” This time your tone sounded defeated, sure you’ve dealt with more stressful things in life, but it seemed as though you had no more patience left. Hayden quickly took note of this and used the leverage of you being a Star Wars nerd to cheer you up.

“Have faith love, everything will soon be set right… I’ve been told she’ll be transferred to a different project anyway. Someplace far far away from us,” His voice dwindled to a hushed volume, it was soothing.

“That would bring peace to the entire city.” He laughed at your brutal joke before changing the subject.

“So do you think we can go in there and try to play nice?” The question lingered for a moment before you reluctantly answered him.

“I don’t make promises.”

“But?”

“But… I will try.”

“Atta girl.”

@oogachakaooga

@lonelywitchv2

@papas-peepee

[shotgunbunny]

Hello! how about Sherlock getting jealous of the man the reader is spending time with and his deduction skills go out the window so he doesn't realize they aren't romantically involved 👀

═๑♡𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧♡๑═

WC:1.3k+ GIF by strdstpixie

{srry I got way too carried away in this little plot and I hope you like it anon even though I got side tracked}

{Warnings!! The most fluff!! The love language of flowers!! Literally just heartwarming!!}

♡being engaged to Sherlock could be hard sometimes. He was the most sought after bachelor before he met you when suddenly, he was ready to give his life to you.

♡Sherlock fans would often send you rude mail and menacing glares. Yet Sherlock would always tell you to ignore them.

♡Yet how could you ignore them when you got them everywhere. With Sherlock always at work, you decided to confide in your closest friend: Max.

♡You had grown up with Max and he was your dearest friend. He never upset you and often supported your ideas, he was truly lovely. Yet you both never saw each other in a romantic light.

♡One morning, after you had woken up alone due to Sherlock going to work. You decided to go and visit Max and see how he was doing as he was currently trying to woo a woman.

♡When you got there you were immediately encased in a hug and Max dragging you down the streets of London to go shopping while he spoke about how he was going to find the perfect bouquet of flowers to woo his lady.

♡As you were both strolling down the market with your arms linked, you felt eyes watching you. No doubt the folks that detested you for stealing Sherlock from his work.

♡When you turned to look you were shocked to see, Sherlock and Ebola stood there. Enola was talking to him yet he had his eyes dead set on you. You could see his jaw tighten and his hands crumple into fists.

♡You felt your heart race, Sherlock had never been angry, let alone angry at you which is why you were so nervous to see him angry now.

♡Max pulled your arm and dragged your attention away from your fiance babbling excitedly about seeing the perfect bouquet.

♡As you stood next to Max as he was looking at the variety of flowers, you heard the familiar voice of Enola grow closer.

♡Before you could even turn to see the girl, a hard chest was pressed against your back and an arm wrapped around your waist making you gasp. You turned and there was Sherlock.

♡He wasn't glaring at you, rather at Max. He jaw still clenched. You squeezed his bicep and he focused his attention on you. You raised an eyebrow at him.

♡Max turned his attention to you both and Sherlock spoke, "Dove, come on we must return home. We must continue planning our wedding. Enola had a few ideas."

♡You looked at him shocked, "My darling, can it not wait? I am busy here trying to help my friend."

♡"My dear, I do not care if he is your friend, I am your fiance and I require your attention more than him."

♡You glared at him, "Sherlock how hypocritical of you. You never pay me any attention so why should I give you any? If you are going to let your foolish jealousy talk for you then I suggest you stay away from me."

♡Max stared and looped his arm through yours and you continued strolling down the street, all the while Sherlock felt his heart crack.

♡He turned to Enola, "Have I really not shown her how much I adore her? Does she feel that deprived of my presence?"

♡Enola stared at him, placing a hand on her hip before glaring at him, "You are silly dear brother. You often go to work rather than talk to your dear future wife. You haven't even professed your love for her you stupid man."

♡Sherlocks eyes widened, "Help me Enola, help me fix my wrong."

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

♡It had been a day since you had seen Sherlock and you felt your heart ache a fraction over not seeing him.

♡Max had been wonderful and allowed you to stay at his house for the night where finally revealed he was trying to woo Lady Ristunberg.

♡You were awoken by a knock at the door. You grabbed a night coat and sorted yourself out so you looked mildly decent and opened the door.

♡Your heart hammered at seeing Sherlock stood there with a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

♡"Sherlock? What are you going here? It's so early." You stared at his beautiful puppy dog eyes and how he was starting to get eye bags. "Have you slept?"

♡He stared at you, "I have not my lady. You see I require you to be happy with me so that then I can sleep peacefully. And due to the fact you are not, I have not slept and have dedicated the night to searching for ways to prove my love for you."

♡You stared at him and then at the flowers in his hand. "Will you give me a minute to change so that then we may return home?"

♡A sigh left his lips, and he nodded relieved.

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

♡When you arrived back with Sherlock hiding in your shadow, you were surprised to find the flat organised.

♡You watched as Sherlock walked past you and handed you 5 books. All the books that you had given him to read while he was trying to court you.

♡"What is this Sherlock?" He walked over to you and took the first book you ever gave him from your hands.

♡He opened the book and flicked to a page where a flower rested. A pink camellia. You looked at him, "A pink camellia. It symbolises longing. The first book you ever gave me when I was courting you. I marked the pages with how I longed for your love."

♡He took the second book, and there rested a blue salvia. "The second book, where you started to slowly give in to my advances. And then the first time I heard your laugh, your cute little giggle. I marked it that day with a blue salvia, it means thinking of you. I thought about the beauty of your voice for days on end."

♡The next book was taken and the next flower shown, a pink rose. "Happiness. A pink rose is happiness because everything you did, you do, makes me happy."

♡You felt tears gather in your eyes, as the fourth book opened and there was a red rose. He smiled shakily, "The day you agreed to court me I marked it with a red rose. It means I love you. Truly my heart belong only to you."

♡You felt a few tears slip at finally hearing those words. Sherlock leaned forward and wiped your tears before he took the last book from your hands and opened it.

♡Held between his fingers was a red flower, he handed it to you and you took it before staring at him. "A red salvia."

♡"What does it mean?" Your voice was so soft.

♡He chuckled, "It means forever mine. The day you agreed to marry me, you were forever mine. But the day you first spoke to me, I was forever yours. You held my heart before you even knew it. I know I am a hard man but my love,"

♡You watched as he got on he knees infront of you and stared up. You placed the flower on the side close to you, and put your hands on his face.

♡"I love you. I worship the ground you walk on. I am thankful to be near you. I adore you, and though I am terrible at showing it, I hope you know that I truly mean it."

♡You got on your knees and kisses Sherlock embracing the overwhelming amount of love that was in the room.

♡When you both pulled away, you placed your forehead against his and closed your eyes. You felt him take your small hand in his and you smiled.

♡"I love you too Sherlock Holmes so very much, all I ask is that you come home and spend time with me more."

♡"My dearest dove, I promise you I will. I will make sure you wake up drowning in my love. And then when your Mrs. Holmes you will carry our love." He chuckled and you blushed.

♡"You were quite attractive jealous though I must admit."

♡A laugh echoed around the room and he pulled you up against him and he dragged you to the bedroom. "Well then I must admit you're quite attractive covered in my marks."

[diabolikpersonals]

I would like to hear your thoughts on the DF diaboys routes you have played at this point.

yessir!! under the cut:

Shu: Shu's DF route is an exercise in meeting him where he is. We know Shu loves his family, but we have to understand it isn't easy for him to show it. We're right at the precipice of a big change in Shu and Reiji's relationship, but we have to accept that acting the way Reiji wants him to just isn't what's best for Shu. Yui wants confirmation of Shu's affection for her, but she has to learn that he shows his affection in other ways. It's kind of like this route is showcasing Shu's flaws and you're going, "That's okay! I like Shu because he's Shu!" so I think it's sweet. Take your time, Shu! ...If I had to complain about this route, I'd say that we spend so long away from the other characters that it gets lonely. I guess that's the point, though...I just don't really find all the "hiding from everyone else" scenes very exciting after a while. We could've spoken to Reiji more, and I honestly feel like Shu and Reiji have bigger breakthroughs in other routes, so this one feels like it's missing a big scene with the Beatrix bros.

Ayato: If you had asked me when I had just played HDB and MB, I would have told you, "Never in a MILLION YEARS will I feel anything other than hatred for Cordelia," but well!!! Surprise!!! This one will make you feel things other than hatred for Cordelia, whether you like it or not. I truly understand how the triplets felt when they said they loved and hated her. The situation is too complicated for me to get into it very much here, but in short I'll say that I really liked the direction they took with the plot of this route, and I came out of it feeling like Ayato and Yui took a well-earned step forward. Absolutely loved this one. So proud of both of them. Whenever I play through the DF Sakamaki prologue, it makes me feel cruel if I don't pick Ayato's route lmao

Laito: If you are an angst lover like me then you will eat this shit up. It's an extremely bad time for every character involved. It hurt so good. I had to spend 70% of this route convincing Laito not to kill himself. In this route, Laito discovers a fact about his father that changes his outlook on his entire life, like every single thing about his life, and the performance that Daisuke Hirakawa gives is like.. It's pure art idk what to tell you. Reading this route is not good enough, you need the audio. I was scared, I wanted to cry, and as a triplet lover there were high points too, but my heart ached for the entire route, even through the good ending! I like that even the obligatory fanservice scenes don't let you forget how terrible the situation is! Strongly strongly strongly recommend

Yuma: Alas, I can only give you a super biased review of this one. It's my favorite route because it has so many good Shu/Yuma scenes. This route is our last bit of "Shu avoids Yuma and keeps secrets from him for his own good!" drama before Yuma finally gets the whole truth about his childhood. We get the cute flashback scenes, Yuma gets some awful nightmares and has some panic attacks, there's a little of everything! :D Even Zweig is there and he and Yuma are super cool, and if you know anything about Lost Eden then you know how hilarious that is. Anyway, this all culminates in THE YUMA BEST FRIEND MONOLOGUE which is one of my favorite dialovers scenes, period, because it makes me so happy. It feels soooo good to watch the arson recovery trio...recover from the arson. 10/10. Shuuma shippers, this one is required reading.

Carla: I'm definitely not shaming you if this route is to your taste, but it certainly wasn't to mine :') Most diaboys talk down to you, but Carla talks down to you to such a degree that I started getting offended over stuff I've never been offended about before. Like, "What do you mean you don't like the taste of my blood?! My blood is fucking delicious!" lol. I am not into all the forced pregnancy stuff, I am not into the demon racism stuff, I am not into how often Yui is reminded that she has no family and no one will come save her. I personally found Carla to be unbearable until he collapsed and started the process of dying. Then he got all sensitive and lonely and I was like "ok I can deal with him now." The ending isn't very satisfying either (What do you mean sucking Yui's blood will stop him from dying for now? He's been sucking her blood this whole time and his symptoms got way worse.) and Carla's blood sucking noises made me want to take my headphones off and throw them away (sorry toshiyuki morikawa I respect you so much toshiyuki morikawa) soooooooooo.........I didn't like it. I grew to like Carla around CL so don't be sad if you like him, ok? He's my friend now, but this route is still just unpleasant to me hgfghsdf

Shin: I know I said I hated the forced pregnancy talk and the demon racism plans and I did hate them, believe me, but Shin's route was successful in getting me to like him. I love that they put him in jail and beat the shit out of him, that was such a good scene and I really feel like my tastes are finally being represented lmao. Because it's his introductory route, he's pretty rough around the edges (true for every diaboy—everyone is a huge jerk in their introductory route) but there was still a lot to enjoy! The flashback scenes were fun (dare I say...he was...cute?!) and when put together with Carla's, the Tsukinamis have a super interesting story & dynamic together, and it fits the themes of dialovers really well. The differences with Carla's route, to me at least, are that Shin's scenes feel more like "playing with a diaboy" even when he gets mean, Shin has the added appeal of being teasable and of being a BIG FLUFFY DOG, and of course, Shin's blood sucking scenes didn't make me want to die. I'm clearly in the minority here, though, because Shin is at the bottom of every popularity poll I see lol...Anyway, it didn't make me LOSE MY SHIT like some other routes did, but I had fun playing this one!!