#i personally don’t remember him ever doing it.

[royalarchivist]

Bad: I don’t think people understand the effect QSMP had on some of the streamers in terms of like… The real raw mental impact, so I’m gonna set the stage for you. [...] Imagine that you were given a friend to play Minecraft with — like your best friend — BUT if this person dies, if they die in the game, you never get to talk to them again. Can you imagine what that’s like?

Bad: If you did not live through the QSMP, if you did not live through that, it almost sounds like, crazy. But I don’t think people realize how much of a joyous experience the Eggs were. They were SO awesome! They were literally so awesome to just hang out with and spend time with.

Bad: I’m not saying I regret it. To this day, I loved the experience. I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. Even knowing how everything went, I would still do it all over again. [...] I would still do it all over again, because — even knowing like, all the trauma and suffering and stuff like that — because it was just… It was just that fun, it was just that fun.

Earlier today during his stream, Bad shared his experience and thoughts about the Eggs and the significant emotional (and traumatic) impact they had on him and his fellow QSMP members.

This clip a very edited-down version since his commentary was ~13 minutes long, so I highly recommend checking out Bad's VOD if you have the time. (Timestamp: 47:36 - 1:00:14)

[ Full Transcript ↓ ]

———

Bad: To be fair Chat, I really think the QSMP... I don't think anyone really can relate to it, Chat. It's something that's so... I've told people this before, like– but it's hard to understand. Right? Like...

Where was I? Sorry Chat, I'm losing my train of thought. Look, let me explain Chat– here's the dealio, ok? Here's the dealio, and this is what I mean when I say like, it's important to keep this in mind, Chat. Ok? It's important to keep this in mind:

I don’t think people understand the effect that the QSMP had on like, some of the streamers, in terms of like… The real raw mental impact, so I’m gonna set the stage for you. This is the analogy I’ve given to every person who I’ve like, shared this with. Imagine you meet somebody– [He hears a strange noise] What the fudge was that? Did you hear that?

Anyway– Chip! The story I was just relaying to Chat, Chip, was this: I was sharing this story with them, I said–  I was giving them an analogy. 

Imagine Chat, for example, imagine that you were… playing Minecraft, with like– you were given a friend to play Minecraft with, Chat, like your best friend, and [unintelligible] were like, “Hey, you get to play Minecraft with this person, right? BUT if this person dies – they’re currently your best friend, Chip – but if they die in the game, you never get to talk to them again. Ever again.” Can you imagine what that’s like, Chip?

I don’t think a lot of people understand like, what that does, right? I’m not gonna say that like, it creates this situation, Chip, that like, messes with your head, but it– Chip – but it totally, totally does, Chip. It messes with your head! It literally puts you in a position where you’re second-guessing and thinking about everything, Chip! You’re thinking about EVERYTHING Chip! Ok? And that’s the problem, Chip– is you turn into a paranoid monster because of it, Chip! Like, you don’t understand Chip– I was- I was so afraid of every dirt block, I used to carry a shovel with me Chip, and I would specifically right-click dirt blocks that looked suspicious because mines, Chip– mines could not be shoveled! Like, I was crazy, Chip! But here’s the problem, Chip: that craziness is still there. I’m genuinely like–

I remember thinking Chip, that I would one day– I was like, “I’m going to move past–” here, let’s go up here, Chip. I remember thinking one day Chip, I was like, “I’m gonna move past the underground base, one of these days. You know, one of these days, I feel like I’ll be able to grow and achieve the desire to build a base that doesn’t have to be underground.” But I don’t think it’s possible now Chip, because I think… I just don’t know. I feel like the paranoia– there’s still like, residual leftover trauma from that situation, Chip.

But here’s the problem Chip: I don’t think I don’t think– I don’t think people understand it. Like, I just really don’t. But I also don’t blame them Chip, ‘cuz I don’t think it’s possible to fully understand it if you haven’t lived through it. Like, if you did not live through the QSMP… I’m talking about the QSMP, I don’t- I don’t know if that was obvious– if you did not live through that, it almost sounds like, crazy. But I don’t think people realize how much of a joyous experience like, the Eggs were. Right? I don’t think people realize it. Like, they were SO awesome! They were literally so awesome to just hang out with and spend time with, Chip. So, it’s just one of those things that–

[He’s interrupted by a loud rumble of thunder above them]

Did lightning just strike here? Is it thunderstorming out…? But anyway, Chip. That’s the food for thought.

But that’s the problem– Like, every time it rains in Minecraft, I have to like, look at the sky, and I get this weird, like, second--hand vibe because of the trauma. The trauma, Chip! The trauma is real! But that’s the point– I’m not saying I regret it. I, to this day Chip, I loved the experience. I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. Even knowing how everything went, I would still do it all over again. 

[He falls down] Dangit, don’t come over here Chip, ‘cuz I’m coming back up! Ok.

I would still do it all over again, because — even knowing like, all the trauma and suffering  and stuff like that — because it was just… It was just that fun, Chip, it was just that fun. I really wi– I don’t think it’s ever gonna be possible, Chip, to give people that same energy, like that same experience. You know what I mean, Chip? I don’t think it’s ever gonna be possible again. Like, EVER.

Because… because like, one: I will say on one level Chip, I will say on one level, like– it’s sort of emotionally like… It’s emotionally devastating, and I think to actually go through that– and this is where like, if I ever do end up going to a– see a therapist, if I ever do end up going to see a therapist at any point, I’ll talk it over with them and be like, “Hey, what do you think about this?” Because I genuinely think on one level, like– it’s created this fear of forming attachments because of like, how things can go. You know what I mean? Like, the fear of getting attached to something and then potentially losing it. Like, it’s- it’s a genuine thing. I think people forget about that.

Like, at the end of the day, everything was RP, right? On the server. You know what I mean? Like, everything was RP, Chip. BUT at the same point, even though it was RP Chip, it was still like– there the reality of you were still playing like, with another person, and you were still getting that experience, and it felt like you were genuinely attached to someone and you didn’t want anything bad to happen to them. It was GENUINELY stressful, Chip.

But at the same point, I don’t regret it, and I don’t think it was a bad experience. I’m– 

Sometimes in life Chip, you go through stuff, and maybe you have a certain amount of like, things that like, can happen, that you’re like, “You know what, maybe this wasn’t a good thing that this happened,” but at the same point, you still aren’t necessarily upset about it, because… it’s like growing as a person, right? Here’s the thing Chip; even bad situations, Chip, can lead to an overall good outcome. Like–

Even if you’re going through something bad Chip, just because a bad thing happens doesn’t mean that only bad things have to come from that. That’s one of the things I tell people all the time, Chip, is that if you go through a bad situation, you can learn from it, and you can use your experience to help others. And you can be that– you can be, at the worst-case scenario, you can be someone for other people who are going through that same experience to lean on when they go through that.I think there’s a certain amount of comfort that comes from that; from knowing no matter how bad your situation is, you’re not the only person who’s experienced it. You know what I mean?

[alltheeya]

Fluffy bunny || l.hs

genre: established relationship, fluff

word count: 1.8k

notes: endearment (heeseung calling the reader "angel"), enha members appearance

It was a regular day, and Heeseung found himself wandering around a mall after finishing his schedule early. As he strolled past a store window, something caught his eye—a display of plushies. Among the rows of stuffed animals, a particularly cute one stood out: a fluffy bunny with floppy ears and big round eyes.

Without thinking too much, Heeseung walked into the store and bought it. There was no special occasion, no grand reason—he just thought it was something you would like. And maybe, just maybe, he wanted to see your smile.

Later that evening, when they met up after their practices, Heeseung casually pulled the plushie out of his bag and handed it to you. “Here,” he said, his tone almost nonchalant, like it wasn’t a big deal. “I saw this and thought of you.”

You blinked at the plushie in his hands, your eyes widening with excitement. “Oh my gosh!” you squealed, taking it gently like it was the most precious thing in the world. “Hee, it’s so cute!”

You immediately hugged the bunny, your fingers squeezing it as you made tiny squeaky noises of delight. “It’s so soft! Look at its little ears!” you exclaimed, squishing its face with an adorable intensity that made Heeseung blink in surprise.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at your reaction. “You really like it that much?”

“Like it? I love it!” you said, holding the plushie up like it was a prized possession. you gave him the brightest smile, your eyes practically sparkling. “Thank you, Hee. This is the cutest thing ever.”

Heeseung felt a strange warmth in his chest, your reaction more than enough to make his random purchase worth it. He hadn’t expected you to be this happy over a simple plushie, but seeing you so excited made him silently note to himself: Buy her cute stuff more often.

As you continued gushing over the bunny and imagining what kind of “personality” it would have, Heeseung watched you with a soft smile. You looked so carefree and radiant, your  happiness infectious. It was adorable, but Heeseung couldn’t help but feel a little left out.

“So,” he started, raising an eyebrow and smirking slightly, “You like the bunny more than me?”

You gasped dramatically, clutching the plushie tighter to your  chest as if shielding it from Heeseung. “Heeseung! How could you say that?” you teased, feigning offense.

Heeseung smirked, leaning closer with a raised brow. “I’m just asking. You seem pretty attached already,” he said, nodding toward the bunny in your  arms. “Do I need to be jealous?”

You tilted your  head, your  lips curling into a mischievous grin. “Hmm… I don’t know,” you said, pretending to think. “This bunny doesn’t tease me as much as you do. It’s soft, it’s cute, and it’s very well-behaved.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes playfully, crossing his arms. “So, it's a competition now? Should I start being fluffier and cuter for you?”

You  laughed, reaching out to poke his cheek. “You already are, Hee,” you said with a warm smile, pinching his cheek. “But the bunny is a close second.”

Heeseung let out a mock sigh of defeat, shaking his head. “We’ve spent months together and this bunny got 5 minutes and it’s already stealing you from me.”

You  giggled and leaned forward, your  free hand tugging gently on his sleeve. “You know you’re my favorite,” you said softly, your gaze meeting his.

“Even more than the bunny?” he asked, his voice teasing but with a hint of genuine curiosity.

“Definitely,” you assured him with a playful wink. Then, you held up the plushie. “But don’t worry, you both have a special place in my heart.”

Heeseung chuckled, ruffling your hair lightly. “Good to know, Angel. But just so you remember, I’m the one who got you that bunny.”

“And I love you for it,” you replied with a grin, hugging the plushie and giving Heeseung a quick, cheeky side-eye.

Heeseung shook his head in mock exasperation, muttering under his breath, “I’m competing with a stuffed toy now.” But the fond smile tugging at his lips gave away just how much he adored you and your quirky reactions.

Heeseung chuckled, resting his chin on his hand as he watched you. “Don’t you think it needs a name?”

You paused, your eyes narrowing in thought as you gazed at the plushie. “Hmm, you’re right. It does need a name…”

Before you could continue, Heeseung smirked, leaning in slightly. “It can be... I dunno... like our child?”

You blinked, caught off guard. You stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter, nearly toppling over with the plushie still in your arms. “Our child?” you repeated, your tone incredulous but amused.

Heeseung shrugged nonchalantly, though the teasing glint in his eyes gave him away. “Why not? You’re already treating it like it’s real. Might as well make it official.”

You shook your head, still laughing as you looked down at the bunny. “Okay, Dad. If it’s our kid, then you get to help pick the name.”

“Hmm…” Heeseung tapped his chin dramatically, pretending to think hard. “How about... Fluffball?”

You groaned playfully. “Heeseung, no. That’s so basic!”

“Fine, fine,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “You pick, Angel.”

You stared at the bunny for a moment, your lips pursed. “How about… Bunji?”

“Bunji?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah! It’s cute, right? ” you said, tilting your head. “Like a little nickname. Bunji!”

Heeseung chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re something else, you know that? But fine, Bunji it is.”

You grinned triumphantly, holding the bunny up like a trophy. “Welcome to the family, Bunji!”

Heeseung shook his head, watching you with a fond smile. “I still can’t believe I’m competing with a stuffed animal.”

“Competing? Don’t be silly,” you  said, leaning toward him with a teasing smile. “You’re the one who made me fall for Bunji in the first place. So technically, it’s all your fault.”

“Great,” Heeseung muttered, rolling his eyes with mock exasperation. But as you leaned your head against his shoulder, still clutching the bunny, he couldn’t help but think he’d gladly buy you a million more Bunji’s just to see you this happy again.

A few weeks pass by with you cuddling Bunji every night, often sending his picture to Heeseung as the two of you text ‘good night’. One day, you looked at Bunji with sad eyes. You and your friends are going on a trip for two weeks which means Bunji will be alone for a while. But then, an idea popped into your head…

You stood in front of Heeseung with Bunji cradled in your arms, your expression serious despite the soft plushie nestled against your chest. You two were in a quiet corner of the company building.

“It’s your turn to watch over Bunji,” you declared, holding out the bunny plushie toward Heeseung.

He blinked, staring at you and the plushie. “Wait, what?”

“I’m going on a trip, Hee. I won’t be home for two weeks,” you explained, your tone as if this were a matter of utmost importance. “Bunji can’t stay all alone, so it’s your responsibility to take care of him now. You’re the dad.”

Heeseung stared at you, then at Bunji, then back at you. “Angel, you do realize this is a plushie, right?”

Your eyes narrowed, and you placed Bunji into his hands, crossing your arms. “Excuse me, Bunji is part of our family. Don’t act like he’s just a plushie.”

Heeseung couldn’t help but laugh at how serious you were about it. “Okay, okay. I’ll take care of Bunji while you’re gone. But… are there instructions or something? Does he have a bedtime?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Hmm… he doesn’t need a bedtime, but he does need cuddles, especially if you’re watching movies. Oh, and don’t leave him in random places, okay? He doesn’t like being forgotten.”

Heeseung grinned, playing along. “Got it. Cuddles during movies and no abandonment. Anything else?”

You leaned in, your expression softening. “Just… take care of him. It’s silly, I know, but Bunji kind of makes me feel like home. So… if he’s with you, it’s like I’m there, too.”

His teasing demeanor faded, replaced by something gentler. He nodded, holding Bunji a little closer. “Don’t worry, Angel. I’ll take good care of him.”

You  beamed, clearly satisfied. “Good. I expect updates, by the way. Photos, videos—proof that Bunji’s okay.”

Heeseung laughed, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “You’re unbelievable. But fine, you’ll get your updates. Bunji’s in good hands.”

As you left to prepare for your trip, Heeseung glanced down at Bunji in his hands. The bunny’s stitched smile seemed to mock him a little, but he couldn’t help the smile tugging at his own lips.

“Well, Bunji,” he said, placing the plushie on his couch. “Looks like it’s you and me for a while. Let’s make her proud, huh?”

When Heeseung brought Bunji back to the Enhypen dorms, it was safe to say that chaos ensued.

Heeseung strolled into the living room with the bunny plushie tucked under his arm like it was the most normal thing in the world. Jungwon was the first to notice, his sharp eyes narrowing as he pointed dramatically.

“Hyung… what is that?”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, holding up Bunji for everyone to see. “This is Bunji. Y/n asked me to take care of him while she's on a trip.”

Jay nearly choked on his water. “Wait, you’re babysitting a plushie?!”

“Yes,” Heeseung replied matter-of-factly, placing Bunji gently on the couch like he was tucking in a child. “She said Bunji’s part of the family.”

Jake leaned over, inspecting the plushie like it was some kind of rare artifact. “So… what exactly are you supposed to do with it?”

“Cuddles during movies, no abandonment, regular photo updates,” Heeseung recited like he’d been given a manual.

The room erupted in laughter.

“Hyung, are you seriously going along with this?” Sunoo asked, barely able to contain his giggles.

Heeseung shrugged, smoothing out Bunji’s ears. “Of course I am. It makes Y/n happy.”

The teasing didn’t stop there. Niki grabbed a blanket, wrapping it around Bunji like a swaddle. “Don’t worry, Bunji. Uncle Ni-ki’s got your back if Dad messes up.”

“Uncle Ni-ki?” Jay snorted. “Then what does that make the rest of us?”

“Godparents,” Jake chimed in without missing a beat.

Heeseung rolled his eyes, though the corners of his lips twitched upward. “Laugh all you want, but Bunji’s staying here, and you all better treat him with respect.”

Later that night, Heeseung sent you  a picture of Bunji perched on the couch, surrounded by the members. Ni-ki was holding up a peace sign, Sunghoon looked begrudgingly amused, and Jake had the blanket still wrapped around the plushie. The caption read:

“Bunji’s safe and sound, surrounded by his ‘uncles.’”

You replied almost instantly:

“Aww you’re such a good dad, Hee. 🐰💗”

Despite the initial teasing, the members eventually warmed up to Bunji’s presence, even jokingly assigning him a spot on their couch. And whenever Heeseung caught sight of the little plushie, it reminded him of your beaming smile—and that made all the teasing worth it.

[rafesweetie]

⋆˚࿔ the way 𝜗𝜚 ˚⋆ — jj maybank and pogue!princess!reader

“ you a princess to the public, but a freak when it’s time, “

cw ; making out, reader tries to go further, ‘mama’ and ‘princess’ nickname, drunk!reader.

jj had bought the hot tub a year ago, during a moment of rage and upset, and he thought the pogues would instantly return his reckless decision and get the restitution money back — news flash, he was wrong.

there have been many parties in the fun hot tub, getting drunk and splashing around with the pogues, tonight was no different. it started out normal and fun, sipping drinks and giggling and talking about stuff that would make no sense to a sober person. then kie and pope left to have some ‘alone time.’

“oh my god, jj, you know what that means right?” you giggling, sipping your vodka pink lemonade.

“what, mama?” he knows what, he’s just entertaining you because you’re cute when you’re drunk — not like he’d ever admit to thinking that.

“means theyre gonna go do it,” john b even laughs at that, which makes you laugh more. “thought you liked her, jayj,” you say after the giggles stop.

“who? kie?” he asks, faking obliviosness.

“mhm,”

he shakes his head. “nah. no, she’s all pope’s. plus, shes like, a bop, always going after another guy,”

“ew, jj, don’t say bop,” john b cringes.

“then who do you like?” you ask, too drunk to care that you’re prying.

“can’t tell you that, ‘s a secret,”

“jayj, thats no fun!” you pout, gently pushing his bicep which makes him laugh. “just tell me, probably won’t even remember tomorrow,”

“yeah yeah. maybe later,”

sarah whispers something to john b and he makes up some shitty excuse and leaves.

“dunno why everyone is hooking up,” you say. “‘s dumb, don’t like being the only single one,”

he rolls his eyes. “i’m single too, mama, y’not the only one, i feel you,”

“yeah, but you like someone. you always get who you like, it’s how you work,”

“what, and you don’t? huh? remember in sophomore year when you kissed topper thornton because you had that kook phase?”

“it was a peck, we didn’t even make out,” you argue. “never made out with anyone before,” you murmur under your breath.

his eyebrows furrow. sorry, did he hear you right? “what?” he asks, implying that you repeat yourself louder.

“i’ve never made out with anyone before.” you admit a bit louder.

“c’mooon,” he takes a sip of his beer. “that’s not true. you’re drunk, stop lying,”

“m’not lying!”

the water moves as he gets a bit closer to you. “y/n, im 100% sure you’re lying. i mean come on, you’re the prettiest girl on the island, you’ve even got kooks, like — rafe cameron type shit — going after you. and you’ve never made out with someone?”

you splash him with the hot water. “stop rubbing it in,”

“hey hey, not trying to be mean, mama,”

“just because you’re always making out with girls doesnt mean that everyone does. you’re a player,” the insult is obviously not said seriously.

“hey, i ain’t a player, i just..” you roll your eyes. “you’re gross,” you say, but you’re back to smiling.

“i could always help you out. i mean cmon, it would be fun, having someone you’re close to being your first. not some random kook,”

“what do you mean?”

“i’m just saying that if you need it, i got it. i got it everyday.”

so you’re not exactly sure when you ended up on your best friend’s lap, but you really like it. being on top of jj maybank, the cutest surfer and pogue in town, a literal light in the OBX. you’re having fun, giggling between kisses when he says something silly or gets dramatic when you nip his lower lip. it’s like he’s putting on a show to make you more comfortable. your hand is tracing his abs underneath the water, feeling him up, your other hand on his shoulder. his hands are everywhere — like, literally everywhere your pink bikini doesn’t cover. it’s clear he’s been wanting to do this for a while.

you two take breaks to have a sip of your drinks and get more drunk and have more fun. he tries a sip of your vodka lemonade and cringes at the sweetness, and you giggling and kiss him again. your lipgloss is making his lips and neck and jaw all sticky. he wonders where you got so good at this.

you go to feel him through his swim trunks, and he stops you, grabbing your poorly polished hand. “what?” you ask, smiling dropping.

“hey, c’mon, don’t wanna steal all your firsts in one night,” he squeezes your waist.

“when did you become responsible?”

“since now.”

you groan. “but i love the way you make me feel. do you not like me like that?”

“hey, princess, i got some feelings for you i’m not gonna get bored of. but let’s take it slow for me too, mkay mama? so it’ll be a first for me too.”

with that, you nod and go back to kiss him.

[dearissei]

Despite, despite, despite

Karasu Tabito x Fem!Reader • Word Count: 1.3k

content warnings: idk this is cheesy as hell man i’m gonna be so real, no smut (crazy how i went from writing him + **** to this LMFAO)

Your first meeting with Karasu is something you don’t even remember. A party hosted by a friend of a friend (of a friend, of a friend). While you do remember briefly making eye contact once across the room; you never speak. It’s not until a week later when the man messages you on Instagram with a cheesy pickup line that you truly meet him.

The DMs soon turn into texts which turn into late night calls and FaceTimes over lunch. He’s brash and he’s sweet and a little (a lot) dorky; but you find yourself falling despite.

It’s a bit embarrassing how quickly you find yourself falling into this thing with him. He texts you good morning and good night every day (and bombards you with his every thought throughout). Despite the familiarity, you don’t get to truly meet up in person. Schedules never align quite right, or the other has to cancel for a last minute work meeting (or a late practice in his case). Now that you’ve both finally found days to align after weeks of texting… you can’t help the nerves that claw from deep within your belly.

-> Good morning, beautiful

You smile at the text before opening your phone to respond as you finish getting ready, scolding yourself internally for the way you sway and cheese and giggle at his texts.

<- good morning, karasu

-> We’re still on for today, yeah?

<- unless you’re having second thoughts?

-> Absolutely not, I spent all morning prepping the food

-> So don’t cancel on me (I say begging on my hands and knees)

<- hmm i do love my men submissive

<- i GUESS i’ll still come

-> Kinky 😏

-> Can’t wait to see ur pretty face

<- cheesy…

-> Mean! It’s from the heart 😣

<- you like when i’m mean

-> No comment

-> Rule of the day: don’t bully me

<- no promises

<- i have my own rule: no kissing on the first date

-> Booooooooo

-> Jokes, I understand. Unless you change your mind because I’m so charming and handsome and you beg for it 😏

<- i lied, date canceled

-> Beautiful queen noooo pleaseeeee

<- you’re an idiot. i’ll see you soon <3

You try your absolute best to be nonchalant when there’s a knock at your door. Normally you wouldn’t ever give a first date your address… but between the hour long calls between you, is it truly a first date? You still remembered the way you muted your phone to scream into your pillow when you’d fallen asleep with each other over video chat for the first time. When his deep morning voice greeted you as a sleepy smile crossed his face when he’d seen you still hadn’t ended the call despite the fact that you were already up for the day, toothbrush in hand as you got ready for work.

-> I’m so nervous rn

You laugh at the text, checking the mirror one last time before going to the door.

<- not sure you meant to send that to me lol

-> No, I did. I’m hoping my vulnerability swoons you and makes me desirable

You roll your eyes before opening the door, smiling shyly up at him.

“Hi,” you greet, before your eyes fall to what’s resting in his arms, “what the fuck is that?”

“You look beautiful,” Karasu grins, before holding up what’s in his arms, “it’s our food for today! It’s a picnic, remember?”

You laugh at his words, stepping out of your home before closing the door shut behind you.

“Oh, I remember, but I’m confused as to why it’s in a… laundry basket?”

Karasu smiles shyly, moving the basket to his hip as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Ah well… I wasn’t sure what all you’d want,” he explains, “first I made bentos and then I was like ‘well what if she’s not super hungry’ so I packed smaller things, and then I remembered you saying you wanted to try those snacks you were talking about the other day, so I got them. And then—

You cut him off with a hand over his mouth, smiling brightly up at him.

“You’re ridiculous. But it’s sweet, I appreciate the thought put into it, really.”

Karasu grins at your words, holding his elbow out to you with a dramatic, “My lady,” before he begins his trek to a nearby park.

You don’t understand why you were so nervous before, falling into conversation comes easy with Karasu. He jokes and he tells you cheesy pick up lines, making sure to ask the proper questions; compliments you when you smile. It’s not long until you find yourself setting up your food, laughing again at the ridiculousness of the size of the basket.

“For you,” he says with a smile, handing you a small arrangement of your favorite flowers he had tucked away under the blanket.

He arranges a majority of the food as best he can, claiming proudly he made it all.

“Did you make this price tag, too?” You ask with a cheeky grin, holding up the sandwich he’d given you.

“I can explain!”

“I’m listening.”

He sighs exaggeratedly, throwing his head back.

“Okay I really WAS going to make everything but then I thought ‘what if she gets food poisoning?’ so I decided buying everything was safer.”

You don’t have it in your heart to argue with the flawed logic, so you find yourself thanking him instead.

You talk until the sun starts to go down, food long since ate (and the leftovers packed away nicely back in his basket). You’re almost… sad when he starts to walk you back home. You know he’ll text you when he gets home, probably insist to call you as well like he does most nights but—

“I don’t want today to end,” he sighs sadly.

You laugh at his bluntness, swinging your entwined hands as you walk down the sidewalk.

“I’m serious! I had a lot of fun today.”

You come to a stop when you eventually reach your front door, smiling up at him shyly.

“I had a lot of fun today too, Karasu.”

“Tabito.”

“What?”

“You can call me Tabito.”

Your cheeks hurt from how much smiling you’ve done, even more so when he doesn’t let go of your hand as he sets the basket down on the porch.

“I had a lot of fun today, Tabito,” you grin, “thank you for everything.”

He tucks loose strand of hair behind your ear, thumb brushing over your cheek. You know it’s coming before it even happens, (why do boys make that face before they kiss you) and you laugh when he frowns at the finger you’ve pressed to his lips.

“I don’t kiss on the first date,” you remind him, smiling despite the frown on his.

(You find yourself saying that many times over with him, despite, despite, despite).

“You’re killing me here, baby,” he groans, pressing a kiss to the heel of your palm, moving it to rest at the nape of his neck.

It’s mean, you know (you did promise no bullying, but you figure if you’re going to break your own rule, you can break his too).

Karasu squeezes your hands where they’re still entwined, his nose ghosting yours as you lean closer.

“What about the second date?” He asks, lips brushing yours.

“I guess you’ll just have to find out,” you respond weakly, hands fisting his hair before you press a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“Text me when you get home safe!” You call behind you as you scamper away, leaving him dazed on the sidewalk as your door closes behind you.

There’s a knock shortly after, and you’re giddy as you open it.

“Yes?”

“I was thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

“Hush, I was thinking… you wanna go get ice cream?”

You smile cheekily up at him, foot already out the door before he even finishes his question.

“You know, this isn’t a second date. It’s technically only an extension of—

You’re cut off by his lips pressing against yours, big hands grabbing your hips to pull you close. Despite yourself, you find your own wrapped around his shoulders.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have—

It’s your turn to cut him off this time.

“Don’t be sorry,” you smile, before pressing your lips to his again.

[smileybasics]

Defending @lil-liaa

I usually don’t post in this blog cause i have other ones but i don’t think this is being fair, me and Lia have been moots for a year and I have seen all her work over the years, I don't know a more creative person than her and I have been with her while she makes her moodboards by call and it is simply impressive the hours she invests in doing it, today I She wrote so devastated and we made a call talking, she has worked on this for so long, I remember how excited she was when she reached 1k, what I mean is that her community and her blog are very important to her, these people are accusing her because three Posts are similar to those of other blogs and that seems stupid to me since you have not even seen her other posts to know if she really makes an effort or not, Lia has made collages, dividers, banners, and a lot of other things, to she is really passionate about digital art and the only time she left her blog was because of the loss of a loved one and the truth is I don't care how many people are going to believe me after this post I just want them to leave her alone, here I am attaching some evidence...

This doesn’t even have so much in common just a three pics, in case you don’t know how moodboards are made, 2 or more colors are taken as a base and the images that best match the tones are searched on Pinterest, not only what she "copied" are just two photos but she also made a divider and a collage

Here’s just pinterest pics (proofs that are from pinterest in keep reading) and again i saw a lot of rude comments towards her that so unfair and hurt feelings cause considering how long Lia has been on her blog it's like invalidating all her hard work!!

In this post she even clarify that the divider isn’t made by her but the collage it is, also it’s just 2 pics that are similar!

This pictures are from pinterest, everyone can use it!

People bullying her

This doesn't just happen on the internet, but in real life, one of Lia's moots simply republished the post where they accused her of copying, she asked him/her why he/her did it so quickly, If they were supposed to be moots, if someone betrays you so quickly without questioning anything, they were never your friend and instead of responding privately she/him made a post just to make her/him moots laugh and the comments are gross, my god it's disgusting, this is directly bullying, if you are a thinking person and if you have ever had some kind of link you should try to talk something privately instead of calling the crazy girl and tagging all your moots so they can laugh, the worst thing is that you can tell that this girl only wants interaction because when she and Lia were chatting she threatened Lia with blocking her but then when Lia blocked her she made another post like "she blocked me" it's like, besides being a treacherous rat you can't have the decency to talk to her about it, Lia has been so nice to everyone but after all, this is where you can see who the ones who truly supported her are, and not the fake friends.

I'm not going to censor his/her username, he deserves it, tumblr is as much as real life, the importance of moots is like friends in real life, because if you want you can just harass someone and all your friends will laugh without question anything.

Also, Lia has a tutorial of a lot of things that she made! If she knows how to do it, why would she steal or copy from other blogs?

She has tutorials of gifs, texts, banners, etc, if she really stole and copy, why she knows how to do it by herself?, and if she knows how to do it by herself she doesn’t even need to stole!

LIKE SHE DIDN’T CARE?! Sorry but this is so wrong, i can tell that, SHE CARES, all these people who are making posts mocking her and calling her crazy because according to them she "copied" three measly posts, when if I were in her place and all my years of work were at stake I would also act like a crazy person because it's worth it, here it is demonstrated clearly her hypocrisy, if Lia wants to defend all her hard work or defend herself from bullying by blocking you she is crazy but if she makes a post explaining everything it seems like she doesn't care, this frustrates me so much

Here more evidence of Lia’s drafts

Just a few of her drafts

And last but not least I want to give credit to Lia's great work these years, so you can see that there is a true artist behind all this nonsense controversy, here are some of her moodboards, my personal favorites that I can't imagine how much time it would have taken

Extra: “Lia we know it’s you” Don’t acuse me of being Lia, i’m just a real friend

Evidence: Contact of Lia and me

Hi guys, it's come to my attention that someone in the moodboard community known as lil-liaa has been copying / taking heavy "inspo" from other creators like @y-unjins and @iluvrei view more for more info + evidence + my opinions on the whole situation

before i start, i'm not trying to run lil-liaa off the platform nor am i trying to stur up drama, this is just to bring light to the situation as not many people know and many people (including myself) defended her when this first happened, i also want liia to realize that what she's doing isn't right and that she shouldn't just brush off "accusations" like these when there is evidence.

proofs

you can see the similarities as lil-liaa used 3 of the exact same pics as iluvrei's including one edited by the original creator without adding credits to the post.

2nd

here you can instantly tell that the moodboard was copied (lil-liaas on the right being an exact replica of y-unjins), only changing 2 pics excluding the idol change and

3rd / last

lastly, you can see how one lia used the exact same divider (+ didnt give creds), two she uses the same images not only in the moodboard but also in her gif (same pics from y-unjins moodboard including the png)

now, lil-liaa was sent multiple anonymous ask from last year and one recently accusing her of stealing moodboards, although a lot of people defended her last year including me due to the ask having no sorts of proof of moodboards being stolen and no one else speaking on it but now the recent ask she has received included proof and her response to it was very (in my opinion) rude and just sounded like she didn't care.

in my opinion, i don't believe this was just a draft she had premade and i don't believe she somehow got the same exact photos from y-unjins moodboard recommended, i believe since this isnt the first accusation and now there's proof of this i believe she has been copying moodboards since last year when she was accused. i don't believe lil-liaa cares about this, the fact she's stealing from other creators and when she gets called out for it she pushes it off with the same excuses

tags

@miujo @rkkuri @lvioung @ciestial @aeraras @sugarish @gyareii @i-kyujin @daddldee @i-mmaculatus @haerinism @chaeryeos @bloomqi @h-yeoni @p-oisn @bitchey @yeritos @yonkiibums @y-vna @y-urios @fairytopea @shuaver @yeoniis

[soobnny]

we'll never have sex — changbin x reader ; established relationship & hurt/comfort (1.2k words)

there is nothing more beautiful than the promise of love even if you cannot guarantee or give that certain level of intimacy just yet

for my girls with a complicated relationship w sex & yes this is based off of leith ross’ song

Facetimes with Changbin always last longer than they should. 

Had it been anyone else, the call would’ve dropped more than an hour ago. You’d have been found guilty for finding any excuse to warrant you some silence–the slightest tinge of awkwardness, the moment conversation runs out, faking plans.

Never with Changbin.

The static of phone calls stretch on, neither of you having moved much. You can’t remember how long it’d been since either of you said something, but you’ve never minded. The quiet that came with your boyfriend had always felt comfortable. Almost safe.

In your periphery, just at the top most right of your screen, you can see him sprawled across his bed, signature hoodie to match the boyfriend look, and fingers lazily scrolling through his phone. 

“Still awake, baby?” His voice breaks the silence, teasing almost, but still gentle. 

“Mhm.” You hum, shifting in your position a little. “But ‘m a little sleepy.”

“You should go to bed.”

“No.” Changbin chuckles at your refusal, deep and raspy through the phone. His eyes are crinkled at the corners, distinguishably fond even with the poor quality of the video.

For a second, you allow yourself to just watch the boy–his glazed eyes, the softness in his features accentuated by the low light of his room, the warmth of his smile. 

Almost safe. Almost reassuring. 

You wonder if it’s all a facade, wonder when he’d finally break, wonder when he’d leave you because you refuse to let him do anything beyond a kiss. Maybe no amount of love, even from the right person like Changbin, will ever be enough to change that.

You try to scold yourself. Self-destructing thoughts are too familiar, they reverberate in your head like you’d been thinking about it for a while, like they’d been practiced and practiced until permanently tattooed. 

The tears come without warning, mid-scolding. Big and heavy and warm. They pool at the edges of your version, and it makes you feel pathetic that you hurry to press the sleeve of your hoodie against your face. 

Changbin notices immediately.

“Hey.” his voice sharpens, the playful edge he’d been sporting earlier gone in a split second. “(Name)? Baby, hey, look at me. What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, and oh god, he’s going to leave you. He’s going to leave you because you’re such a crybaby, and anyone with a normal fucking mind wouldn’t do this to him. Anyone under normal—kinder—circumstances wouldn’t think like this. 

“Baby.” He tries again, softer this time. “Talk to me.” 

Your throat tightens around something akin to a lump. You try to swallow it down. 

“Why’re you crying? What’s wrong?” 

There’s a long pause before you finally speak.

“What if I… what if…” You start, voice barely above a whisper. You don’t know how to continue, words disjointed and dismembered. “If I said you could never touch me, would you still want to be with me?”

Changbin pauses for a fraction of a second, eyebrows drawn together in genuine confusion. But you go on, inundating him with the fears that have spent your entire life trying to catch up with you.

“I can’t give you what you want. It’s what you want, isn’t it? Would you still stay with me even if I told you that I never want to have sex?”

The boy’s expression softens immediately. He can hear his own heart break at how fragile you sound, at how shattering it is to look at your tear-streaked face through a screen, at the things that could’ve transpired for you to think that he’d ever leave you because of that, just because of something so menial to him in a relationship.

“Of course I’ll stay.” He says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “That doesn’t change anything.”

His words are meant to be comforting, the small but sure smile on his lips should’ve been enough to return your peace, but instead, the tears well up again. Heavier this time. 

“Wait. Wait, wait—hold on.” His face suddenly disappears off the screen as he fumbles with his phone. He sounds rushed. “I’m… I can’t just look at you cry and not do anything about it.”

Then the call ends.

It isn’t until fifteen minutes later when a sudden knock on your door shakes you from your self-pity do you see him again. And he’s standing there, slightly out of breath, the same hoodie you’d seen earlier half-zipped with his hair tousled from the cold wind outside. 

“Binnie.” Your voice cracks. “What are you doing here?”

Changbin doesn’t say anything at first, just allows himself to look at you—eyes tracing over the tear stains on your cheeks, and the way you’re hugging yourself with the sleeves of one of his jackets. 

Then, without a word, he slips a hand beneath your jaw, tilting your face to look you in the eyes. His palms on your skin feel warm, calloused but gentle as he cradles you in his hands. “I think…” He pauses. 

A heartbeat passes.

“I think you look lovely.” He murmurs, tone low and gentle, abating the tempestuous anxieties swelling in the pit of your stomach. “And I love you. Not because of what you think I’m expecting from you, but because I love you. The entirety of you.”

You press your face into the crook of his neck as an ugly sob escapes your throat. The tears spill over again, faster, and you feel so ridiculous for crying even more in front of him. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I— I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He pulls back, leaning in to press a kiss to your wet cheeks. His voice is firm, but not unkind. Never unkind. And his eyes held no hesitation, no flicker of doubt in the way he’s looking at you right now. “Did I say anything to make you feel this way?”

Changbin tries to hide how he feels about his question, like he could never imagine being the reason why you’re sobbing like this.

“No, oh my god. Binnie, no. It’s not you.” 

“Okay, it’s not me.” His voice is still kind, relieved. “I’m never expecting anything from you, okay?”

And just as gentle as he’s holding you, he kisses you. Nothing desperate, nothing hurried even. Just slow and lingering, like he’s savoring the moment for exactly what it is. He isn’t kissing you to take you to bed, not to ask for anything more, not even to change your mind.

Changbin kisses you just to kiss you. 

Just to hopefully show you that he means everything he said to you. 

“I’ll take care of you.” His fingers thread through your hair. “I love you.”

Quietly, tiredly, you start to show a small smile. “Thank you.”

Loving you is so easy for Changbin. Like second nature. Like falling in love with your laughter, and the little parts of you that make up your sum. And you’re aware that it’s going to take time to heal yourself—that it won’t be so easy all the time, that there will be days like these again, but you also know enough that he is genuine and that he loves you with no expectations even if it’s hard to believe sometimes.

Seo Changbin loves you with every bit of conscience he was born with. He loves you simply. 

You stay like this for a while. Safe. Reassuring. Until you feel the sickness less and less.

[honeypiehotchner]

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part six

About the ending of this one: don't hate me! Hate Hotch :)

Warnings: angst! the usual! a meeting with Strauss, Rossi knowing Hotch too well and it annoying the fuck out of Hotch (lovingly)

Everyone knows the case isn’t over, but it might as well be. With nothing else to uncover and Lila safely returned home, the BAU team is called back to Quantico.

Hotch makes sure that the Monroes have some security round the clock in their neighborhood, especially on their street. He doesn’t think anything will happen, but then again, no one can ever be certain. 

The problem is that they can only afford the security for so long. One week, at the most.

You ignore Hotch the entire way home on the jet. In your defense, you ignore everyone. You put your headphones in and curl up in one of the chairs toward the back, perfectly secluded from everyone else.

Hotch watches you, trying not to look as worried as he feels, and hating that he feels such deep worry for you. Sure, your words stung earlier, that he’s the last person you’d want to work for, but they weren’t entirely untrue. You are the last person he expected or wanted to walk through those glass doors. 

He hasn’t had the chance to discuss your placement with Strauss, but he will. Either it was pure coincidence that she placed you here, or she thinks she’s being funny. If it’s the latter, he hopes she can see how hard he isn’t laughing.

Rossi lightly kicks Hotch’s leg under the table. He raises his eyebrows when Hotch drags his eyes over to him.

“What?” Hotch says, settling down further into his seat, glancing at the file he’s supposed to be going over. “Got a cramp?”

Rossi scoffs. “Do you?”

Hotch hums. “When do you think they’ll send us the sketch?” He’s trying hard to change this subject to anywhere but where Rossi wants to take it.

Rossi, of course, ignores Hotch’s question. “I’m guessing she didn’t appreciate you prying into her past.”

Hotch focuses very hard on one word in the file, wondering if he might make it catch fire. “No, she didn’t.”

“Well,” Rossi sighs, looking out the window. “Serves you right.”

Hotch’s eyes snap up, glaring tiredly at his friend.

“What?” Rossi asks innocently. “It’s too soon. You should’ve known better.”

“You know just as well as anyone that in order for this team to work well together we need to have an established level of trust—”

“Save the pep talk,” Rossi waves him off. “I think you just can’t stand being left out of the loop. There’s a missing piece here and you can’t take it.”

Hotch doesn’t know if Rossi is still talking about you or not. “Richard said—”

“I heard what he said,” Rossi interrupts again and Hotch really wishes he’d stop doing that. “And if it was anything that concerns us, don’t you think it would’ve come up in her background check? That you, as Unit Chief, have to go over.”

Hotch can’t say that he disagrees there. He does go over the background checks, just a glance, really. Maybe his eyes lingered on yours a little longer, so what? Maybe he tried to focus on smaller details to puzzle you out, so what? That’s not a crime.

What is criminal is hiding things from the team, especially the Unit Chief. He hates to pull rank, he really does, but when one of the FBI’s Most Wanted sits in an interrogation room and says he recognizes your newest agent, isn’t that cause for concern? Especially when said agent refuses to elaborate?

Why would Richard Monroe of all people recognize you? Or a younger version of you, so he says, because you’re older now than he remembers. Did he see a picture of you? How and where and why and from who? 

Rossi is right. There’s a missing piece. And Hotch can’t stand it.

+++

Hotch gives you the following day off. You know damn well that isn’t standard, and that everyone else is still going into the office, but you don’t argue with him. He’s as surprised as you are about the fact.

Instead, you sleep in, you have a slow morning, you make brunch, and you do everything in your power to not think about your father.

It’s easier said than done most days. It’s hard not to think about him when there’s so much you don’t know — so much you’ll never know.

Because he’s dead. You know that for a fact. Got a phone call from the prison ward and everything.

Still, your mind wanders. You hold your coffee close, the mug practically burning your palms, but you’re too in your head to feel it.

Lila…everything about it was so similar to your situation. Kind of. Given that you still don’t know who kidnapped her, and you might never find out, it could be a freak coincidence. 

You roll your eyes at yourself. Coincidence. Yeah, right. You stopped entertaining the childish idea of those long ago. Everything happens for a reason, which is why you have such a gut feeling about Lila. You just need to get to the bottom of it.

But you have no clue how.

+++

When you return to the BAU the following day, well rested and somewhat less anxious, you head straight for Hotch’s office.

Not because you want to. God, no. Hotch summoned you via text while you were still on the freeway.

You make him wait, though. You need coffee first.

After a pit stop at the staff coffee pot, and then at Emily's desk to chat, you waltz into Hotch’s office without knocking — his blinds are open and you can clearly see he isn’t busy — earning you an exasperated look from your new boss. 

“Don’t give me that look,” you snap without thinking. “You’re the one who called me for a meeting when I wasn’t even halfway here yet. So what? What do you want?”

Hotch really wonders why he tries to be patient with you. “Sit down.”

“Gladly,” you smile, knowing it has to look as fake as it feels. You lower yourself into one of his stiff chairs across from his desk.

Hotch takes a moment, clearly pulling himself together, before he asks, “How are you?”

Your coffee freezes midway to your mouth. You drop the mug back down, resting it on your thigh, letting it burn you there. “Fine,” you give a little shrug. “Thanks for the day off, boss.”

“I thought you might need it,” he replies, like he’s caught you in something.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“I think you’re being an asshole on purpose,” you conclude. “I think I make you nervous, and you’re not used to that, so you take it out on me by being an ass.”

“Projecting, are we?”

“Proving my point, are we?” you grumble, ignoring how right he might be. You take a scorching sip of your coffee. “What did you actually want?”

Hotch stares at you for a moment, studying your face. You stare right back at him, unperturbed.

He’s going to learn that two can play at this game whether he likes it or not.

He’s the first to look away, down at the files on his desk. “The sketch artist spoke with Lila.”

“And?”

“She refused.”

You sit up straighter, nearly spilling your coffee. “What?”

Hotch’s eyes lift to yours. “She refused.”

You sit back again, propping your elbow on the arm of the chair to rub your forehead. “Okay. So what does this mean?”

Hotch threads his fingers together on his desk. “Her mom is going to talk to her, see if she can convince her to talk to the artist again.”

You nod slowly, looking out the window. “Okay. That’s good.” You’re not sure if she will. Or if it’ll get her in any trouble. She’s just a kid.

Hotch stays silent. Your coffee burns your thigh just enough finally that you move to rest it on the other arm of the chair.

You pause, looking over at him without moving your head. Your eyes narrow. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I thought you might like to know.”

You turn your head, smirking. “Missed me?”

He frowns.

You lift your coffee to your lips, waiting for Hotch to say something else, like you know he will.

He does. “I thought you might be able to shine some light on why she refused.”

You glare at him, but you finish your sip of coffee. “And no one else on the team was capable of shedding light?”

He stares you down. You return the favor.

You’re the first to cave this time. “What do you want from me, Hotch?”

“The truth would be a great start.”

All you can do is laugh, so you do, hanging your head. “Great meeting.” You stand and head for the door, raising your mug. “I’ll be at my desk if you need me.”

You hear Hotch push his chair back as he raises to his feet. “We’re not done.”

You pause, but you stay at the door. “You just don’t know how to leave well enough alone, huh?”

“I can write you up for insubordination.”

“Go ahead,” you shrug. “I could use another day off.”

On that note, and before he can hold you captive any longer, you yank his office door open and escape to your desk.

Hotch watches you through his open blinds. The way you settle into your desk chair, the way your hand shakes as you lift your mug to your lips. 

It’s not that he can’t understand why you won’t confide in him -- or, well, it’s less about confiding and more about just telling him the truth. He doesn’t need to be your confidant, or anything remotely friendly. God knows you wouldn’t want that. 

But this is serious. A serial killer recognizes his agent, shakes them up so bad they have what he can only assume was a panic attack in the parking lot, and he’s supposed to, what? Forget he saw anything? 

Forget like his life didn’t flash before his eyes when he saw you crouched down, fighting to take in a single breath of air? Forget like he didn’t pace his entire apartment last night, recalling everything he knows about you to try to ascertain why an FBI’s Most Wanted would recognize you as a child? Forget like he didn’t nearly make himself sick with the implications of that?

It’s uncharted territory for him. Members of his team have hidden things from him before, but they’ve let the truth out. They’ve let him help.

You don’t seem keen to do either of those. Again, it’s not like he doesn’t understand. The two of you aren’t exactly each other’s favorite person -- and won’t ever be. But the nature of the work you do…this isn’t something Hotch can just let go.

+++

The next week at the BAU passes similarly and without much fanfare. No new cases come in -- surprisingly -- but a few seminars come up, some mountains of paperwork, and a meeting with Strauss.

The latter comes as a shock. You think for sure that it is Hotch’s doing, and you’re entirely prepared for a fight. You’re either being fired, reprimanded for your behavior, or who knows what else.

What you don’t expect is for it to be lunch. Plain and simple.

“Thank you for joining me,” Strauss says, in an uncharacteristically good mood, guiding you over to her comfortable chairs. “Sorry for the formality. It’s the easiest way to schedule these things. Please, sit.”

You sit across from her, waving off the apology. “Not a problem. I was a little worried, so I’m glad it’s only lunch.”

“Why?” she asks. “Is everything alright in the BAU?”

“Oh, yes,” you laugh it off. Hotch just hates me, but not to worry, the feeling is mutual. “Just new job jitters, I suppose.”

“Ah, still adjusting?”

“You could say that,” you nod with another sheepish laugh.

“Well, you shouldn’t worry,” she says. “I hear your performance is exceptional, and you fit right in.”

You raise an eyebrow. Hotch told her that? “Oh,” you try not to show your shock. “Thank you, I’m…I’m glad to hear that.”

She smiles. “Aaron can be a little rough around the edges, but you’re doing fine. Don’t worry. Ah, there’s lunch.”

Sandwiches are brought in, leaving you no time to really process what she has just confirmed. 

And he is never going to live it down.

The rest of your lunch meeting passes by easily. To your surprise, Strauss steers the conversation away from the BAU and toward how you’re settling in here in general. 

“It was a big move, I heard,” she says. “I hope the area is treating you well?”

“It’s great,” you nod. “I do love it here.”

Of course, work topics come up, such as professionalism among the team and how those lines blur around some. She doesn’t linger here, though, so you think nothing of it. 

“A new case will likely come tomorrow,” she says. “You’ll hardly ever be without one this long. Consider yourself lucky.”

You laugh at that, mostly to hide your scoff. You wouldn’t consider yourself lucky to be without a case because it only means Hotch’s focus is on you instead of catching a killer -- which is a much better use of his time. Safer for him, too. Because with every passing day you come closer to spilling hot coffee down his suit.

Kidding. Kind of.

“Mm! I do have one thing to ask you,” Strauss says suddenly.

You swallow your nerves and look at her expectantly.

“Richard Monroe,” she starts, and you feel your blood run cold. “He’s still cooperating in their investigation, however,” she pauses, lacing her fingers together. “He’s asked to speak with you.”

You blink. “With me?”

She nods. “You clearly made some impression on him. He’s apparently been asking for you for a few days, though they only just notified me this morning.” She pauses to sigh. “Do you have any idea what he might be after?”

You shake your head, dusting crumbs off your leg. “No idea.”

“Alright,” she accepts your answer far too easily. “Well, if there’s time, and if he keeps asking, I might ask you to go speak to him. Just to…keep the peace, I suppose. We can call it research for the BAU.” She waves her hand. “But it’s not at the top of my list.”

“Of course,” you nod slowly. “Just let me know.”

She smiles. “I’ve taken up enough of your lunch time, so I’ll let you get back to work.” She stands and you do as well, a rare moment where you’re itching to get back to the bullpen. “You’re going to do just fine here. You’re already exceeding expectations, so well done. Keep it up.”

“Thank you,” you return the smile, your chest expanding from the praise. It’s nice knowing your boss’s boss thinks you’re doing well, no matter how Hotch acts when you’re in the same room. Checkmate.

+++

Hotch scowls at the paperwork before him as he listens to your laughter filter up to his office. You returned from your meeting with Strauss in a frustratingly good mood and have been joking around with Morgan for half an hour.

Fed up, Hotch shoves his chair back to shut his door. Maybe he slams it. It doesn’t matter.

He hears the conversation come to a halt. Good. Maybe now they’ll get some work done for once.

He signs off on what he needs to, closing the folder and moving on to the next. And the next. And the next.

Before he knows it, he’s the second to last in the office again. Rossi knocks once on Hotch’s office door before he opens it, one hand holding his coat over his shoulder.

“Working late?” Rossi asks, striding in and settling down across from Hotch.

“Yes,” Hotch says, not looking up from the paperwork. He still has a mountain to get through, and maybe it could wait until tomorrow, but he needs to focus. On something that isn’t you.

“Want to get a drink?”

“No.”

“Alright. Any particular reason you’re so grouchy today?”

Hotch sighs, looking up at his friend and hoping his eyes convey the best I’m not in the mood look that he can. 

He must succeed, because Rossi presses even more. “Doesn’t have anything to do with, say, a certain new agent who seemed to be in a great mood today for the first time in a week?” He pauses, musing. “Or maybe it’s the fact that said new agent didn’t say one word to you today?”

Hotch’s jaw tenses. It’s true. Neither of you spoke to the other today. Plenty of glares were shared, though, which is the same as words for you two.

Rossi leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Aaron. She’ll come to you if she needs help. If she wants help.”

No, she won’t, Aaron wants to say, but he can’t. Because what’s his reasoning? Something he doesn’t want to admit.

The facts are that Rossi doesn’t know you. Rossi wasn’t there when Hotch first met you on that case all those years ago. Rossi wasn’t there to watch you try to do everything yourself and nearly fistfight Hotch every time he tried to take one thing off your plate. Rossi wasn’t there to watch you nearly get yourself killed because you refused to ask for help. Rossi wasn’t there to see the panic that had crossed Hotch’s face when he saw your reckless behavior. 

Rossi doesn’t know you. Not the way Hotch does.

Which is why after Rossi leaves, Hotch gathers his things, and stops to see Penelope on his way out of the office.

[blessedbyahuntress]

Warrior of the Sun and Moon

Chapter One: The Blessing of the Sun

Prev/Next

A/N: HEHEHEHEHE (Ya that's all I got [I'm high on caffeine, if you can't tell])

Warnings: Handsome immortal alert! Handsome immortal alert!

Word count: 850

When you were nine, you snuck out of your room for the first time. You’d been ordered to stay in the chamber under the watchful eye of your servant, but you felt jittery and restless.

You needed to get out of the palace, abandon these stone walls for a little while.

The afternoon sun shone through the beautiful stained glass windows as you kept your head down, back pressed against the wall. If what Telemachus had accidentally told you was true… 

There it was. Your hand wrapped around a lever, the metal cold on the palm of your hand. You pulled, a harsh jerk of the wrist. There was a loud scraping sound of stone grinding against stone, and you cursed. Your servant would find you soon if you weren’t fast enough.

You turned, slipping into the secret passage that had opened next to you. 

The darkness that engulfed you made you nervously drum your fingers on your leg, nails skimming over the hunting knife that was hidden in the folds of your dress- the dagger you’d stolen from your older brother the time Telemachus had allowed you into his room.

You swatted away a cobweb that was trying to get entangled in your hair. Your steps became faster, more determined to get out of this awful space.

A breath of fresh air hit you in the face, the wind running its chilly fingers through your locks, tugging at your hair playfully. 

You took another step forward, and suddenly you were falling, sun blinding your eyes as they stretched wide in panic. You landed on your back, all of the breath knocked out of you.

“Holy-”

Someone above you tsks. “Is it really appropriate for such a young lady like you to be cursing?”

You jolt up, banging your head against someone else’s forehead. You lay back down with a groan. “Who the hell are you?”

“You shouldn’t answer a question with a question, princess.”

You cross your arms over your chest, head still pounding. “Mine seems more important,” you argue. “Who are you?”

You feel a hand rest gently on your forehead, and the ache begins to dissipate. 

The person chuckles lightly. “Well,” he said- you figured it was male, though he spoke in more of a sing-song. “Maybe you should open your eyes before asking such things.”

You frown, earning another laugh from the unknown person. Slowly you blink, your eyes adjusting to the light. Standing above you was the tallest man you’d ever seen. He was bathed  with a golden glow, bright blue eyes gazing into your own. A laurel wreath shone atop his head, perfectly tan arms crossed over his muscular chest.

Somehow you knew this was a god, though it wasn’t his appearance that gave him away- rather, it was his presence. 

“Apollo?” You whispered softly, as if you believed if you stirred the air too much, it would scare the god of the sun away. 

The addressed deity threw his head back, a booming laugh escaping his lips. “Yes, that is I, little mortal.” 

You stood, dusting off your dress. As quickly as you rose, you dropped into a grand curtsy. “Lord Apollo, to what do I owe the honour?” 

“You are smarter than you look.” You weren’t sure whether to be proud or offended by his words as he circled you, studying you as a king observes his prize bull. “Tell me, little mortal, how did you know that I am Apollo?”

You tilt your head. “You feel like the sun,” you stated bluntly.

That got him to chuckle again. He paused his pacing to look you in the eye. “I suppose. But I have come to answer your prayer.”

You blinked. “What prayer?”

Apollo furrowed his perfect brow. “What do you mean, ‘what prayer’?” He questioned. “Y’know? That prayer that you sent me when you were two, wishing you could be like your father, the mighty Odysseus?”

“Did I?” You try to remember what he was referring to, but you come up empty. “Sorry, but I don’t think I even knew you existed at such a young age.”

“Ah.” Apollo waves this off. “It doesn’t matter whether you remember it or not, for I am here to make your dreams come true.”

“Uhm,” you said. “No offense, Lord Apollo, but how…” You trailed off as the god held up a golden bow, fitted perfectly for the palms of your hands to grip. 

You reached out to touch it, mesmerized by the curve of the limbs and the string that seemed to change colors in the sunlight. Apollo held it closer, as if urging you to take it. You didn’t need any further encouragement, small fingers wrapping around the weapon. 

As you grasped the bow, a shimmering belt appeared on your waist, a quiver full of arrows attached. You gasped, running your fingers up and down your new accessory. 

When you looked up, mouth opening to speak, you met Apollo’s shining blue eyes. “Thank you,” you murmured, tone filled with emotion and gratitude. 

“Anytime, Y/N,” the immortal said, shooting you a wink as he faded away. 

“Anytime.”

Taglist: @barrythestrawberry041 @shapter-draws @sunshinewhosketches @myriad-of-passionate-pettiness @shroombloom248 @my-gods-i-read-too-many-books @keikeiluvyou @tati-the-fangirl @bookmuncherss @sabrina-senpai @artemis-andrea @sunshinedaisy21

[lucygraysboy]

“it’s a wonder how they do it, right? i mean, they don’t even speak our language and somehow they just know if you’re a good or bad person, and what your intentions are. do you think they can read it off of our body language? or what’s happening in their heads?” thinking out loud, pale blue eyes fixated on the back of her head as his hand continues to travel across her back. over her shoulder, along the bumps at the nape of her neck, inching closer and closer to her other arm. olive skin covered in suds. “mhm,” he hums softly, praying she doesn’t turn around. he doesn’t want her to see him blushing like a schoolboy. “when i first walked in here, i thought that you’d ran away, but then i saw reva blue and began to wonder why you’d ever want to leave her behind… and started to question my own sanity, asked myself if you were real or a figment of my imagination,” he admits, chuckling sheepishly because it’s embarrassing to a certain degree. “i will never cause you any harm, lucy gray. i just need you to know that, okay?” even if she won’t instantly put all her trust in him. “and if ever want to go your separate way, i won’t go after you unless you want me to.” he’s not his brother. “and your favorite dessert is blueberry pie.” noted, he remembers. but he still leaves enough room for her to correct him if he’s wrong. “but not all desserts make you happy? that doesn’t make sense,” he playfully argues, just trying to provoke her to convince him otherwise. “horses.” what an easy question, he thinks. “i love and respect all animals.” even the squirrel that became their dinner as hard to believe as it may be. “birds and dogs and cats and cows and butterflies, but horses are just so special. my mother’s friend, back at the capitol, had stables bigger than whole neighborhoods in district twelve. plenty of stunning thoroughbreds. most of them had probably been imported from district eleven or something. anyway, there was this one chestnut mare that i really admired, could watch her for hours. she could run so fast…” eyes alight at the memory, but then he realizes that he’s been rambling for a long time and must be boring her to death. “sorry, got a little carried away. um, what’s yours?” he inquires, meaning her favorite animal. too bad there are no horses in district thirteen. it’s been so long since the last time he was near one… “thanks for trustin’ me enough.” to show him the wound on her leg. thank god he had that jar of iodine with him. “and how will that be your fault? don’t blame yourself for things that happened because other people put you in a certain position. what were you supposed to do? grab a brush on your way out? you had more important matters to worry about. it’s really not your fault, lucy gray. it’s not like you’re a slob by nature and let this happen out of laziness. you’ve been through a lot. it’s only natural,” he softly corrects, reaching around her petite frame and handing her the soapy washcloth so that she can scrub her legs and torso. calloused fingertips sinking beneath the surface, getting wet before gathering her long hair with nothing but affection. “we won’t be cuttin’ it to your ears. if we can’t get all the tangles out, we’ll braid it and… well, maybe my mother,” the one who’s most likely sick with worry back in thirteen, “will find a way to help us.” but right now, he’ll focus on combing through these pretty locks with his fingers, careful not to pull too hard.

“i think they can definitely tell, who’s a good person and who’s tryin’ to bring harm. animal’s are intuitive like that.” lucy gray reassures, smiling softly as her arm stays around her bent knees, her free arm tracing circles in the water. “oh…yeah?” brow lifting, looking over her shoulder at him before eyes glance back towards the water. shying up momentarily again. “of course not.” leave him as a single parent. a twitch of amusement pulling at her lips before softening at the thought, thinking how she can’t run. but even it she could, would she? not… exactly. not when she doesn’t have a gnawing fear in her chest yet towards him. just like the animals they speak of… if she doesn’t have a reason or sense a reason, she won’t leave. just like deer and birds, she too has those same instincts. “sort of. i mean, i can choose a favorite dessert. i can choose a favorite month. but i can’t choose a favorite color, animal or flower. all flowers, colors and animals make me happy. hard to choose just one.” a soft laugh emits, gently shrugging her thin shoulders. “what’s your favorite animal?” questioning before hearing the awful story of the man he knew and before too long her face is contorting into disgust and stomach churning, vomit reflexes on the rise when he starts saying thing about smells. “lord, then, i sure am lucky you found me in time. i might’ve suffered the same thing. that’s sickenin’, bless his poor soul havin’ to suffer all through that.” feeling sympathy and disgust, quickly trying to think of something else. she definitely doesn’t want to suffer like that and scared up to keep watching her wounds. “i hope not, i really like my hair. but then again… that’ll be my fault, maybe i’ll learn.” scolding herself— to at least brush her fingers through it and keep it from getting so matted. “it’d be devastatin’ cutting it off to my ears.” that gives her the notion to quickly start trying with her fingers to start pulling some knots out, feeling a little panicky on needing the answer if she’ll get to spare it or not. the rubs on her back feel so pleasant, too. the most soothing feeling she’s felt in awhile but she can’t exactly relax with her hair on the line.

[bots-and-cons]

Can I please have some Cybertronian!Reader comforting Starscream after a nightmare? Possibly after the Predacons Rising ending cause that's gotta be traumaTM

A/N:I’ve been having quite a lot of bad dreams lately, so this fits the theme too I guess lol. I honestly don’t remember much about the movie, so I didn’t base this on it. Screamer isn’t my favorite even though he’s grown on me over the years, and this might be a bit (or a lot) OOC, and Idk if it ended up very good but I don’t care. I’ve been trying to write this for over two weeks so this will have to do

You’d been on a mission, but when you got back to the habsuite you shared with Starscream, he was already recharging. You smiled gently as you looked at him, but as he turned in his sleep you saw he had a pained look on his face. You sat on the berth next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, hoping to wake him up gently.

Starscream sprung up from the berth the second you touched him, and before he even realized what he’d done, he had shot at you. He was just standing there, pointing his blaster at you with a panicked look in his optics.

“Star, it’s me, it’s me” you said calmly as he was still pointing his blaster at you.

You’d dodged his shot, just barely, but you were much more worried about him than you were for your slightly fried audial fin.

“(Name)?” Starscream asked with a wavering voice.

He looked at you, then his blaster and then back to you, before putting his blaster away and sitting back down on the edge of the berth. He was hanging his head, refusing to look at you.

“Another nightmare?” you asked, slowly reaching your hand towards his.

Starscream just nodded as he let you take his hand. Your presence calmed him and your touch even more so.

“Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine” Starscream said a bit dismissively. He would much rather not talk about it.

He’d always had quite frequent nightmares, but it had gotten a lot worse recently. You weren’t really surprised, he had enough trauma for multiple lifetimes. It would have been a miracle if he didn’t have some bad dreams. It wasn’t very often that he had this bad of a reaction to being woken up. You knew he didn’t mean to hurt you, but you were always prepared to dodge a blaster shot or block a hit.

“Star, please be honest with me. I can see you’re rattled by whatever the dream was about”

“Why must you always insist? Why do you always pry into things?” Starscream hissed.

“You know why. It’s because I love you and you need to talk it out. It’s gonna keep bothering you otherwise”

Starscream outwardly disliked your prying, but he loved the fact that you cared so much, he loved that you cared for him. Not that he would have ever said that out loud. Love was something that was certainly not abundant among the decepticons. There might have been a flicker sometimes, but certainly not towards him, nor from him. Starscream hadn’t known much of it in his life in general, not before he met you anyway. You were the first person to ever care about him, for who he was, not for what he could offer. The first person to ever comfort him after a nightmare, to stay by his side until he fell into recharge mode again when he had calmed down. The first one to hold him with love, instead of some ulterior motive or with violent intentions.

“Pry again later. I would like to rest now” Starscream stated tiredly.

“Fine, I will. I’m tired too, so we can just recharge together” you sighed in defeat.

You knew there was no point in trying to argue with him once he’d made up his mind, so you didn’t. You would just have to pry more later.

Starscream might not have shown it or said it, but he did appreciate all you did for him. He loved you, even if he only rarely actually said it to you. Maybe one day, if you were still with him, the nightmares would be a thing of the past. No Megatron, no war, no running or fighting for your lives, just you and him. Perhaps that day would come one day, but for now, it was time to rest, hopefully without more nightmares.

[h-sleepingirl]

Hi!

I've been participating in the hypnosis world for about a year only as a subject, with somebody's audio files I've grown to enjoy. Being relatively... intelligent? (ADHD former "gifted kid" stereotype,) I've loved the way it can be so calming to my head which often has thoughts racing left and right with no end.

Your latest post about being a wizard with tomes piqued my interest and I would love to learn more and be one myself, especially in regards to Erickson who I had no knowledge of prior to today. Where would you recommend I start...? I would love to DM you and chat if the response would otherwise be too vague and long to be a reply to anon :)

Excellent to hear! I’ll give you some recommended reading and info. (And thanks for asking in my inbox, because this may help others!)

Milton Erickson was a hypnotherapist active in the 1900s who helped shape the form of modern hypnosis. There are many mythology-type stories about him. He really pioneered non-authoritative hypnosis (like, not “You will go into trance now!”), and hypnosis where he considered each client individually in order to figure out the best hypnotic method for them (this is the most critical thing and we still need to learn from it IMO). He’s known for some distinct techniques including storytelling and indirect language, although how those work and what they are depends on who you ask. He was a major inspiration for Neuro-Linguistic Programming, which takes inspiration from him but really changes a lot.

If you are just starting to learn how to hypnotize another person, I would not recommend STARTING with Erickson’s direct works (I mean feel free to read about the guy, just don't try to fight through his writing yet) -- but I don’t think you have to wait too long, especially if you have some experience as a subject. I would highly recommend reading a VARIETY of “intro to erotic hypnosis” guides -- there are a bunch, and as you’ll see, everyone teaches them differently. That’s because there are MANY ways of looking at how to do hypnosis and what it even is. Keep that in mind as you explore. I would like to offer my own guide: https://www.learnhypnokink.com/ in which I do try to teach a more overarching perspective that should be useful for learning other perspectives, and especially useful for progressing past beginner level.

Reading is great and if you only ever want to read that is fine, but a lot comes from experience, too. I don’t have recommendations for finding people to play with -- just remember that as a hypnotist, you have boundaries too, and you do not have to let yourself be used as a “trance vending machine” by eager subjects.

In terms of Erickson, take a look at his Wikipedia page or articles about him to get the gist of his character and history -- fascinating stories about him. And then when you want to try, read “Hypnotic Realities”, by him and his student Ernst Rossi. This is THE definitive Erickson book. I would not recommend reading books ABOUT "Ericksonian hypnosis" first -- anything talking ABOUT Erickson really tends to transform the meat of what he's trying to communicate IMO. Read from the source first. “Hypnotic Realities” is the greatest book on hypnosis of all time in my opinion, but it’s dense and challenging. It’s also beautifully subtle and you should plan to reread it ever so often because you will get new things out of it at different places along your journey.

Good luck! I hope this helps you and anyone else curious!

[veinvv]

i haven’t seen anyone talk about the outfit descriptions in wuwa and i honestly don’t know if they’ve always been there or if that’s new bc outfits are a thing in the game now

BUT LIKE

who wrote these ????????

rovers is so borderline passive aggressive that every time i look at it i giggle

also. did that line single-handedly make the fact that rover doesn’t ever change clothes canon within the story?

mortefi’s only has one line that’s actually about the outfit (same goes for like half the characters). but we know damn well that most of the academy researchers are NOT dressed like him and that’s all you had to say pertaining to his outfit ????

some of the funniest ones are like baizhi’s where they try and convince you the outfit is practical. like no….it’s not…

you have her fighting tacet discords in a mini bodycon dress….

shout out to yuanwu for having a description that is genuinely (mostly) just about the outfit

and then shout out to aalto and youhu’s outfit descriptions for having absolutely NOTHING to do with their clothes

“Red is Carlotta’s color.”

but…

…pink…?

her outfit is pink….

i can forgive that solely for for the laugh i had when reading that last line because i refuse to accept that they wrote that unironically

and lastly, my personal favorite. jiyan.

because what do you mean ?????

i have so many questions !!!

you’re telling me that either:

1.) jué can just materialize an outfit at will and its certified drip magic ended up outliving its omnipotence

or

2.) jué, the sentinel of jinzhou, a deity, somehow communicated with a human to commission a custom tailored outfit. (maybe that’s why it appointed jinshi as magistrate right afterward….so it could impart its dreams of making jiyan its personal dress-up barbie girl by making her talk to a tailor for it…)

but no matter what the answer is, just remember that jué specifically curated an outfit for jiyan that leaves little to the imagination in the chest area.

unless jué genuinely thought that’s what the rest of the rangers dressed like. “based on the standard uniform”—THATS NOT EVEN REMOTELY WHAT THE RANGERS ARE DRESSED LIKE??

there’s probably more good ones but i don’t have like half of the characters

this game is ridiculous i love it dearly

[howlsofbloodhounds]

anon from yesterday, i remembered some of the other things i wanted your opinion on. (all color spectrum again)

do you think killer would play animal crossing, like i can just picture him playing for like hours on end for some reason

killer would be addicted to the sound of colors laugh, and would like do anything to hear him laugh

color loves kissing killers forehead (idk?)

more color spectrum questions later

Color loves giving all his friends forehead kisses if theyll accept it.

I personally like to think that Color’s body is very, very, very hypersensitive to physical touch due to the decades of complete isolation, and as a result, he rarely ever enjoys being touched without warning or permission.

It gets too overwhelming, and it can even cause him physical pain given the fragility of his body—and while he doesn’t mind the pain itself if not enjoying it (especially if he can see the colors that certain pain causes, and it thinks it’s beautiful)—it’s the being touched without permission, without warning, and the way his body feels out of his control—responsive to touch, even if his mind doesn’t want it—that is distressing.

His reactions, physically and emotionally, can often seem extreme or “overdramatic,” or not appropriate for the situation or what the other person was going for. (And making him feel like he’s being overdramatic or invaliding his emotions would only cause him worse pain, causing Justice to prompt Color to firmly and coldly tell whoever is causing the pain to never speak to him like that again.)

Color is definitely the type of be hyper aware of boundaries, his own and others. He gets unbelievably angry and upset if someone “breaks” a boundary or rule—at its worse, he can feel like someone doesn’t respect or love him at all, or like maybe he never knew this person as well as he thought he did, even if it was just a misunderstanding or an accident.

(This is where souls like Integrity and Justice come in, to validate his emotions and encourage him to reinforce his boundaries, but also to remind him of the nuance in the situation and to discourage him from lashing out because he feels hurt, destabilized, and unsafe, which would go against the other rules of his Integrity. And feeling like he’s failing to maintain his integrity would only make Color feel worse and send him spiraling.)

And I agree that Killer would love the sound of Color’s laughter, similar to the way Color enjoys the sound of Killer’s voice—Color likes the colors he sees in his mind when Killer speaks, lighting up his mind with gorgeous golds and silvers.

Killer likes the way Color’s face and eye lights up especially when he makes Color laugh, even just an amused chuckle at one of Killer’s sarcastic remarks or dark jokes, especially if it causes Color to give him that look he doesn’t know the meaning of but likes when he looks at him like that. He likes knowing that he caused that, he’s the reason that Color’s happy. Not Delta, or Epic, or even any of the other Killers.

It’s nice to hear Color laugh in general, but he likes knowing and seeing the effects he has on Color even if he doesn’t know why exactly he wants to see more of them (and cause more of them) in Stage 2—especially when, in Stage 2, he likely struggles to realize the impact and effect his own physical body and touch could have on others—given that he is so disconnected from it, viewing it as nothing more than a tool to be used to reach an end goal or desired result.

I don’t know too much about Animal Crossing, having never played myself, but I don’t see why not.

[mollywog]

What are your thoughts on Possibility of Peeta in Canon feeling guilt over a perception that he forced Katniss into the Star crossed lovers?

Oooo -Thank you for giving me an opportunity to talk about this.

One of Peeta’s main survival tactics is his ability to read people and situations…. And he’s pretty good at it (which probably was helpful to him far before the arena with a volatile mother but that’s maybe more the stuff of HCs so moving on)

With that in mind:

One of the first things Peeta says to Katniss upon her discovering him in the arena is:

"Lean down a minute first," he says. "Need to tell you something." I lean over and put my good ear to his lips, which tickle as he whispers. "Remember, we're madly in love, so it's all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it."

Even in his fevered state, Peeta is aware that this is an act (at least on Katniss’s side)

Later - when he’s trying to convince Katniss not to go to the feast and she claims that she isn’t, he says:

"You're such a bad liar, Katniss. I don't know how you've survived this long." He begins to mimic me. "I knew that goat would be a little gold mine. You're a little cooler though. Of course, I'm not going." He shakes his head. "Never gamble at cards. You'll lose your last coin," he says.

‘I knew that goat would be a little gold mine. You're a little cooler though. Of course, I'm not going.’ -> all moments he (accurately) clocked where Katniss wasn’t being 100% honest if not outright lying

The ‘I don’t know how you’ve survived this long’ part is particularly interesting to me but I digress.

So then fast forward to after the feast where Katniss risked her life to save him:

"No! Just don't, Katniss!" His grip tightens, hurting my hand, and there's real anger in his voice. "Don't die for me. You won't be doing me any favors. All right?"

I'm startled by his intensity but recognize an excellent opportunity for getting food, so I try to keep up. "Maybe I did it for myself, Peeta, did you ever think of that? Maybe you aren't the only one who ... who worries about ... what it would be like if ..."

I fumble. I'm not as smooth with words as Peeta. And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don't want him to die. And it's not about the sponsors. And it's not about what will happen back home. And it's not just that I don't want to be alone. It's him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread

"If what, Katniss?" he says softly.

I wish I could pull the shutters closed, blocking out this moment from the prying eyes of Panem. Even if it means losing food. Whatever I'm feeling, it's no one's business but mine.

"That's exactly the kind of topic Haymitch told me to steer clear of," I say evasively, although Haymitch never said anything of the kind. In fact, he's probably cursing me out right now for dropping the ball during such an emotionally charged moment. But Peeta somehow catches it.

"Then I'll just have to fill in the blanks myself," he says, and moves in to me.

In this moment Katniss inwardly acknowledges that she has real feeling beyond the act and Peeta, again, reads those feelings correctly.

This is the turning point for him.

So, then imagine his surprise on the train tracks (and all the self doubt):

"It was all for the Games," Peeta says. "How you acted."

"Not all of it," I say, tightly holding on to my flowers.

"Then how much? No, forget that. I guess the real question is what's going to be left when we get home?" he says.

(Just picture Peeta replaying the games in his head and trying to figure out where he missed the tell.)

We often joke about Peeta being oblivious to Katniss’s feelings for him in Catching Fire, but really: He’s been burned by ‘misinterpreting’ her before and he’s trying not to make the same ‘mistake’ again.

In a way

“You love me. Real or not real?

Is a remnant of that doubt.

Anyways - back you your original question:

There wasn't a single person in Panem expecting the Gamemakers to allow for two winners prior to the rule change... 73 years of one Victor: It's unprecedented.

The star-crossed lovers strategy, under normal game circumstances,

Benefits them both. The romance makes them both fan favorites to sponsors. But, at the end of the day, there can only be one Victor. So when one were to die, public sympathy would swing sponsors towards the broken hearted other.

Relied very little on Katniss; she didn't have to opportunity to state her feelings for Peeta to the audience after the interview and in the arena, up until the rule change, she barely saw him. Had he died before the (unprecedented) rule change, there wouldn’t be much for her to do but appear sad. The star-crossed lover but is eventually just a sound bite.

No one could have predicted that both Katniss and Peeta would be crowned victors and have to maintain the strategy indefinitely.

So yes, on top of believing he mistook Katniss’s feelings for him in the arena, he then discovered they’d have to maintain the pretense of lovers for the rest of their lives… I’m sure he felt all sorts of miserable ways about that.

[ibijau]

heeey who's up for some more mdzs daemon au?? Today, wwx has a horrible terrible time of being alive again, and mxy's daemon isn't helping

Something was insistently pecking at Wei Wuxian's head and hands, trying to wake him up. A few times he pushed away his attacker, refusing to open his eyes. Being dead was bad enough, he didn't need to be awake as well. But the pecking always quickly resumed. 

“Pashou, leave me alone,” he grumbled. 

“I'm not Pashou.” 

Startled to hear a male voice coming from the bird, Wei Wuxian quickly sat up. Too quickly, perhaps; his head was spinning from the sudden effort, almost making him nauseous. Once he no longer feared it would make him puke, Wei Wuxian looked around for the source of that voice, and quickly found it. Down on the ground, he found a miserable looking raven staring up at him. A daemon, no doubt about that, although not one he had ever seen before. 

In fact, the entire room around him was unfamiliar. It looked as miserable as that raven, with his mangy feathers and his air of being underfed.

No sign of Pashou, though.

It wasn’t exactly a surprise. The black swan had gotten so sluggish in the years after Wei Wuxian gave away his golden core, it often happened she’d fall asleep somewhere and he’d have to look for her. Back in Yunmeng, she’d often be napping in Jiang Cheng’s office. Since they’d moved to the Burial Mounds, Pashou had become less consistent. His silly, useless daemon.

His stupid daemon, he remembered her clumsily flying to his rescue when the fierce corpses he’d controlled turned against him. They’d torn her apart in front of him, and him soon after, although the most important part of him had already died alongside her. The way she’d cried, his poor little daemon who’d always warned him against this, whenever she could focus again for a moment.

His Pashou, dead…

Nausea hit again. This time, Wei Wuxian couldn’t contain it and vomited a mix of bile and blood on the already dirty floor.

“You’ll have to clean that up,” the raven flatly informed him.

Wei Wuxian shivered. It was always odd for one person’s daemon to address a human directly. Among cultivators it wasn’t as scandalous as among common people, since they sometimes used their daemons to communicate with one another. Still, it was preferred to only do so if you had already been introduced to the person, and Wei Wuxian most definitely didn’t know anyone with such a pathetic raven daemon.

“Who are you, anyway?” Wei Wuxian asked as he got up on shaky legs.

He felt weak, even by what he’d become used to since the Sunshot Campaign. His entire body ached, but most of all his wrists.

“I’m his daemon,” the raven retorted. “Obviously.”

“Whose?” Wei Wuxian insisted.

“His,” the raven repeated. “Ah, maybe you don’t realise… I told him that curse didn’t look right. He’s… There’s a pot with some water on that table. It’ll be easier if you look at yourself.”

Saying this the raven hopped toward an old table, and Wei Wuxian followed. That strange daemon was right, looking at his reflection told Wei Wuxian what no explanation could have convinced him of: he now inhabited a body that wasn’t his. Even used as he was to dark arts, Wei Wuxian nearly shouted in surprise, although he told himself that was mostly because of this new body’s ghastly makeup.

Shocked as he was, Wei Wuxian had to sit down. Now that he looked around again, he realised he’d woken up laying in the middle of inscriptions written in blood on the floor. His current body’s own blood, for better or for worse, and that was why his wrist itched and ached that way.

“I always thought daemons were affected by possessions,” he told the raven. “Every case I’ve seen before, the person’s daemon falls asleep or even changes appearance. But you seem fine.”

“Is that really what you’re worried about right now?” the bird scoffed.

“It’s the oddest thing about it,” Wei Wuxian retorted. Pashou would have understood. She was curious, like him, for all that she usually tried to rein him in.

The raven shook his head. “He said it wouldn’t be possession. He said he was offering himself to you, so it would be your mind in his body, and your daemon would replace me. I figured disappearing was better than going on like this.”

Without thinking, Wei Wuxian nodded. He’d heard about rituals capable of invoking a spirit and giving it a body, but he’d naturally never tried it himself. He’d always assumed the person’s daemon would be affected too, but it seemed he’d been wrong.

“I won’t be your daemon,” the raven suddenly announced. “You’re not my human, I’m not your daemon. Even if you have his body, I’m not yours. I’ll never be anyone’s but his.”

“Who was he, anyway?”

“His name was Mo Xuanyu,” the raven said with something unbearably sad in his hoarse voice. “His mother was the daughter a servant of this great house had with the master, and she had him with a cultivator. We were even in a sect, for a while. It didn’t end well. We're not allowed to speak of it anymore.”

That much made sense. Of course only a person with some knowledge of cultivation could have known a ritual of that sort, not to mention using it at all. But as Wei Wuxian checked his new body, he realised with dismay that it was truly very weak. It didn’t even have a golden core, and more of a crumbled piece of dust that wasn’t good for anything.

“Why did he invoke me?” Wei Wuxian asked. “It’s not something you do without good reasons.”

“We were suffering,” the daemon explained. “Every day for years, our life was terrible, never feeling any joy, never allowed anything good to happen to us. Our family, our aunt and some others, they mistreated us constantly. It broke us. It broke him. Near the end, he wouldn’t listen to me anymore. I don’t think he could hear me, most of the time. He’d even attack me when he was upset because he forgot we were the same person.”

Wei Wuxian shivered, his nausea returning. It happened, people harming their own daemon, but it was always troubling. He’d not always been patient with his poor Pashou toward the end, but at least he’d never hit her, no matter what terrible things he’d said to her.

“Don’t get me wrong, I agreed to what he did,” the raven stated. “I want these people who hurt us to suffer, even if I have to die too. My aunt, her son, her husband, and A-Tong. They are the price you have to pay to keep using this body.”

Lowering his eyes, Wei Wuxian observed the four deep gashes on his wrists. That was inconvenient. Since he personally had no grudges against these people, he wasn’t terribly interested in killing them, but since they were complete strangers and they had pushed his body’s previous owner to such a desperate state, it was also hard to feel much pity for them.

“It’s not like I asked to have this body,” Wei Wuxian pointed out. “Aiyah, I don’t even remember accepting it! But I’m here, so I must have. And that means we…”

“There is no ‘we’,” the daemon cut him. “I am not yours.”

“So you’ll fly away and live like a normal bird, eh?” Wei Wuxian snickered, as if the mere idea weren't repulsive to any sane person. 

Well, he'd done his share of repulsive things anyway, so this seemed tame in comparison.

As for the raven he said nothing, but shuffled awkwardly on his legs. This reaction, combined with what he’d felt within his body so far, made Wei Wuxian grow suspicious.

“How far can you go from your human, anyway?” 

“Pretty far, but also less than the normal distance,” the raven said, preening himself in an embarrassed manner. “We were kicked out of Jinlin Tai before I settled. We tried to do the ritual here, on our own. We'd seen others go through the trial, it didn't seem hard to organise. It… Backfired. I can go away, as far as I need. I went far into the North once, on the other side of the country. But being apart… it hurts us both as much as if we hadn’t done the separation ritual. It feels… Wrong when we're not touching.”

That explained Mo Xuanyu's non-existent golden core, then. Even if he had started forming one, a botched separation from his daemon would have ruined it. The part about not being able to stay apart, Wei Wuxian had never heard about. But of course that was because few people survived a failed separation, and those who did were so broken you couldn't ask them questions. 

That was why there were so many precautions around the separation, potions to make it less painful, family and teachers present to make it less traumatic. In the century or two since cultivators had started separating from their daemon, they had improved the process. Children used to die almost half the time, or so Wei Wuxian had been told. A high price to pay, but when the Wen sect had discovered it guaranteed a strong golden core at a very young age, they'd paid it without hesitation. The other sect had followed suit, most of them. Those who didn't hadn't survived long, unable to compete when the old method required twenty, thirty years to form a golden core, sometimes more. 

Wei Wuxian had never met before someone whose separation had failed. He knew some children had died from it at the Wen indoctrination camp, but he'd never met a survivor, although he recalled some speculations about someone he’d known back then. He couldn’t remember who it had been, though, and ultimately he’d lost interest in that topic, too busy with his own problems.

“You’ll have to stay with me then,” Wei Wuxian decided. “There’s no other way.”

“I’m not your daemon.”

“No, you’re not my Pashou, that’s certain,” Wei Wuxian retorted with cheerful disdain.

His beautiful daemon, even after she’d become diminished, she’d remained a sight to behold. The most beautiful black swan the world had ever seen, his pride and joy as long as she thrived, still loved and cared for once she was little more than a dead weight. A mere raven couldn’t compare to her, least of all one as ugly and pathetic as that one.

“We’ll see if it’s easier for you to go away now that there’s a different soul in this body,” Wei Wuxian suggested. “If you can, then go and become a bird if you like, I’ve managed without a daemon before. Otherwise, you’ll have to stick around. I’ve been in enough pain in my life. How is that for a deal… ah… what’s your name anyway?”

The raven preened himself. “I don’t have to tell you that. I’m not your daemon. We don’t need to talk, so you don’t need to know my name.”

Frustrated by that stubborn bird, Wei Wuxian had half a mind to grab it by the neck and shake it around until it stopped making things difficult. But this was another person’s daemon, and just that brief thought was nauseating. He didn’t want to ever touch that raven.

Maybe the bird was right. Wei Wuxian didn’t need to know his name. All he needed to know was whether they could work together to sort out their strange situation… but even that would have to wait: before Wei Wuxian could argue his case, the front door opened and a richly dressed boy entered accompanied by servants, intending to beat him up for something his body’s previous occupant had done.

That damn raven couldn't even be counted on to help. Perhaps guessing what was about to happen, the daemon had flown away the instant the door opened. Normally Wei Wuxian wouldn't have needed him anyway, but as he quickly discovered, even that little distance between his new body and Mo Xuanyu's daemon caused him considerable pain. Shocked by that sensation, he was unable to defend himself against his bullies. To the pain of separation were soon added numerous bruises, which were more bearable because more familiar. 

The rich boy and his minions left, but closed the door behind them before the raven could return. 

Laying on the floor, bruised and miserable, Wei Wuxian cursed the body's previous occupant, the daemon raven, and everyone else in the house. As he tried to catch his breath, his hand wandered at his side, grasping for something absent. Even as her condition worsened, Pashou had always felt it when he truly needed her, and she'd waddle her way to him no matter what. 

But she was gone now. He would never again hold her in his arms. 

In a way Pashou had been lost long before they died, of course. From the moment they'd done that core transfer… she'd been little more than another walking corpse at Wei Wuxian's side. 

It would be hard, living without even that much left of her. But Wei Wuxian had done many hard things in his life. He would manage this, too. 

At least, he would do it once that damned raven came back within a reasonable distance.

[thecourtjester-e]

Do You Have to Let it Linger? Part 4

A/N: y’all wanted a twist? (Short chapter the end is near)

CW: substance abuse, angst, yearning, depression, anger issues

SCHLATT POV

“GOD, you can be so STUPID.”

As soon as he said it he froze. He tossed the phone onto the table and put his head in his hands. As he heard the phone hangup from the table he felt like he couldn’t move. His face started to burn as anger rose up in his chest. He looked for the nearest victim to aim this mindless rage at. He picked up a controller and chucked it as hard as he could across the room. He could feel the tightness in his chest rise and tears threaten their way into his eyes. God, he hated that he let himself do that. Why the FUCK did he do that???? Schlatt’s frustration from the week all culminated into this moment. The confusion of why y/n had ignored him for a whole week, racking his brain to remember every little thing he did and said to you at the wedding for some explanation. And all to find out it was because you like him and you think he doesn’t like you back. It made him mad. You couldn’t be further off.

In the beginning of your friendship the flirting had been for fun. He did think you were stunning, but it was all in jest, at first. It slowly grew into a real blooming friendship beyond the clicks and views he genuinely grew fond of you. Your personality, your quirks, and little traits. He would watch to boost numbers, but then he found himself tuning into your streams on his second account to just watch. He found your voice entrancing and the way you moved and danced hypnotizing.

He couldn’t believe that you thought he didn’t feel the same. The fact that you had a “big fat crush” on him was enough to make his heart jump, do a backflip, and fall out of his ass. He was so dumbfounded that you couldn’t see how crazy he is about you.

At first he grappled with his own fear and uncertainty, could he let someone in in this way? Was it worth it? You guys lived so far apart. Not to mention how public it could all get and the bombardment from the fans. He was terrified. As the days turned to a week his fear turned into intense longing and pain. Pain knowing how he had hurt you. He missed your constant communication that he had grown to rely on in a way. He just missed hearing you and seeing you. How your smile lights up rooms and your raw charisma enchants all who watch. He couldn't stop seeing you up there singing at the wedding. And how you smiled at him while laughing and dancing. The memories practically uncorked the bottle themselves. Minimal resistance was found when lifting it to his mouth. Each sip felt easier and easier.

Ted called sometime during the second week while the bottle was half drunk. Interrupting his quiet stalking of your stream.

“Schlatt.”

“What.”

“You gotta tell her man,” Ted pleads. He had been bothering Schlatt to spill his heart since the wedding. Then, even more so after this whole ordeal. It tired and aggravated him.

“No dude.”

“Jared Schlathew,” Schlatt scowled at the nickname as Ted continued, “I know we’ve known each other a while, but I’ve known Y/N longer. I’m going to have to tell her soon man I can’t keep listening to her heart break like this.”

“Ted, I sweartgod, if you tell her you won’t hear from me again. Ever,” he slurred and sipped.

“I don’t understand the big deal!”

Schlatt cuts him off, “I can’t, Ted, I fucking can’t! I already hurt her man, who’s to say I won’t just hurt her further or… I don’t know! I’m no good for her. She deserves someone better. She deserves to get over me…”

Ted sighs, “Schlatt, genuinely, you are one of the most kind hearted individuals I've had the pleasure of meeting-” Schlatt scoffs, “You have a rough exterior, yes, but I’ve seen how she melts your icy shell. I wouldn’t allow you anywhere near Y/N if I didn't think you deserved her, man. But I truly do think you are one of the greatest people I get to call a friend. So please, skip the angst, and get on a plane.”

As he hung up he turned your stream back on. Your presence was much duller than your normal effervescent self. He studied at the screen while you absentmindedly answered the chat.

“Ok, well I have another cover I’ve been working on so,” you sit up with your guitar a little better and begin to play “High and Dry” by Radiohead. Through his drunken haze, Schlatt sat and listened to you sing as if you were speaking directly to him.

“Fuck it.” Schlatt opened his phone and booked a flight.

———