#i want you to understand that these pictures don't even scratch the surface of my feelings

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

ODE TO A CONVERSATION (STUCK IN YOUR THROAT) - c.sc

Everything with Seungcheol has always been easy. Easier than with anyone else, anyway.  (and it hits me — i don’t want anybody else touching you like i do, like i do, like me. is it okay? that i don’t want anybody else touching you like i do.)

pairing; choi seungcheol x fem!reader.  genre; smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT) with a little bit of plot. friends-ish to lovers to (healthy) exes to fwb to -- warnings; writing early parts of this felt low-key pretentious but it was kinda on purpose because i was trying something stylistic and outside my normal?? so??? but on a real: swearing. alcohol consumption (they aren’t drunk at the time of having sex). reader is written to be wearing makeup. it's kinda just filth. proof read but all the words just melted together eventually (if i missed a typo, no i didn't <3) smut warnings under the cut! w/c; 6k. a/n; del water gap’s ode to a conversation stuck in your throat was my most listened to song last year. i now can’t listen to it without thinking about s.coups (i also just point blank can't stop thinking about s.coups) -- enjoy x

smut warnings: big! dick! seungcheol!, making out, fingering, oral (f rec), unprotected p-in-v sex (make good choices), lil bit of edging if u squint, overstimulation if u tilt ur head like 82º to the left, manhandling, soft-ish dom!cheol, lotta praise, use of pet names (babe, baby good girl, my girl, sweetheart), kinda possessive!cheol, jealous!cheol, biting and marking (hickeys, digging nails in), light light light light light crying/dacryphilia (not really, like there are Some tears in eyes but just to be safe ig)

Everything with Seungcheol has always been easy. 

Easier than with anyone else, anyway. 

You’d known him in passing for a long time before anything happened. A friend of a friend — someone you always smiled at and chatted with at social events, because he was easy to smile at, and so very easy to chat to. You can’t even remember which birthday or New Year’s party or Halloween bash or Saturday night jamboree was the first: they’ve since all just dissolved into one pleasantly foggy memory, and every time you saw him thereafter he made you feel so comfortable, so at home that it felt like the hundredth.

And it continued that way for a few years. Pleasantries exchanged in friends' kitchens, conversations across beer-garden tables. Catching up on each other's lives in a hallway outside the bathroom for handfuls of minutes at a time before one of you inevitably got tugged away by the friend you were waiting for. You were comfortable with him, around him: he just had that kind of energy. So on a big group night out one evening, when you found yourself feeling a little uncomfortable being flirted with by someone you had never met, you instinctively flashed Seungcheol a look from across the bar. He came straight over and immediately to your rescue; with him slipping all too naturally into the fake role of your unimpressed significant other, you realised that it was easy to be whisked away under his arm, easy to let him buy you your next drink, easy to let him kiss you breathless just to really drive the pretend point home. 

Staring up at him after, feeling his drink-chilled hands cupping your cheeks, watching his gaze flicker between your lips and your eyes, you realised that igniting a spark had never felt so…

And it was easy to kiss him again later that night under the influence of a little too much wine and blanketed by a couple of lowered inhibitions. It was easy to giggle into the crook of his neck as he leaned against a stone wall, trailing his fingers up and down your arms, rambling about how he wanted to kiss you again and again and again and forever, maybe, because he thought your smile was beautiful and your lips were so soft and you tasted like cherries, and he liked cherries, and if you could kiss him every day he’d never have a reason to be unhappy ever again. It was so fucking easy to fumble in your purse for your phone, to let him put in his number, and when he asked you if he could take you out for dinner, when he messily typed a text message out begging the same question and sent it to you (‘so we both remember, tomorrow’), it was so, so easy to say yes. 

Then, the first date? It was beyond easy. You talked and talked and laughed and laughed, each of you having a few cocktails with your food, never running short of conversation, never not finding little ways to touch each other both under and over the table. Arranging the second, and then the third, and inviting him up for a coffee after date number five was easy, and falling into bed with him was easy. Holding him close, your sweat-slicked bodies moving as one entity in the dark: it was easy, and the pillow-talk after about what this growing thing between you was, came so damn…

So you introduced him to your parents, and your other friends, and in turn he did the same with you. Two and a half years breezed by, then, and even the hard parts… Even the arguing and time spent away from one-another, whether he was sleeping out on your couch following an emotionally charged spat or trips taken as part of his job demanded he spend weeks at a time without you. The hard parts? By comparison to everyone before him, they were easy. Anniversaries and birthdays and Valentine’s days: he spoiled you, and you doted on him, and being together was just so–…

Even the day you decided to end your romantic pursuit, while impassioned, wasn’t hard. In part, maybe it was because it was a long time coming: you still loved each other deeply but your lives were so chaotic and different, and it wasn’t fair to keep waiting around for each other when it just clearly wasn’t your time. And in part, because he was so calm in how he held your hand tightly in his (even when he dried your tears), how he kissed your forehead, in how he told you that you deserved more than the life he could give you. And at the end of it all, when he promised to always be there for you, naturally you promised the same back. 

Keeping that promise? Well. It was easy. 

So what if it took a few weeks for things to feel sort of normal? If you had to remember how to greet him without offering your lips for a kiss or your arms for a hug? If you had to get used to sleeping alone, and waking up alone, all over again? The thing that mattered was that he was still in your life, and you were still in his: your relationship wasn’t broken, it was just different, and once the little transition period was over, once you were both used to your new normal… Being ‘just friends’ was kind of easy. 

(Kind of, being the operative phrase.)

Six months post split, you mentioned to him in passing that you were going on a date the following day. As soon as you realised what you’d said, you regretted bringing it up, but without missing a beat Seungcheol lowered his drink and raised an eyebrow at you, excitedly asking you to tell him everything. The person’s name, what they were like, how you met them, where you were going. He didn’t feel like your ex-boyfriend, then and there: he felt like a best friend. So you told him every detail, and he listened intently, following up by requesting you text him when you got to the date and again when you got home so he knew you were safe. Of course, you said that you would. First, because it was sensible. Second, his requests were easy enough.  

And the date went okay, all things considered: the guy was nice, if a little bit awkward, and you had a good time bowling with him and playing some games in the old arcade, but there just wasn’t a spark. Everything felt difficult. Forced. So when he was the one to say to you after that he’d had a nice evening but felt that maybe you should just be friends, you couldn’t help but feel relieved. Letting out a breath and giving a genuine smile, you agreed, thanking him for his refreshing candour, before bidding him good night and making your way back to your car. 

You held your phone between your fingertips for a while as the engine ran and the heating started to kick in, slowly warming you from the outside, in. As you thawed, you bit the inside of your cheek absentmindedly, a potentially questionable decision planting itself in your mind. Your body didn’t mind how good of an idea your brain thought it was, though. Your fingers moved entirely of their own accord; finding and pressing Seungcheol’s contact name was so starkly different to everything else had been, all damn night. It was easy. His sleep-roughened voice drifting down the phone sounded so easy. Asking if he minded you swinging by his place for a coffee and a debrief felt easy.

Two hours later, writhing on his mattress, two orgasms deep with his head still buried between your thighs and one of his hands groping at your tit as if his life depended on it?

Fucking. Easy.

So then, started the pattern. Waking up the next morning absolutely swimming in one of his oversized t-shirts should’ve felt like guilt and a betrayal of all your self-growth, of your moving on, of your friendship. It should’ve felt uncomfortable and gross and maybe a little panic-inducing, but it never did. It was warm and cosy, it was familiar and comforting, and when he greeted you ‘good morning’ with a pillow to the face, you knew that nothing was ruined; rather, this was just another new difference to your ever-changing relationship with him. Waking up this way… Well, it felt—

Look, you’re only human. You both have needs. After spending two and a half years learning each other's bodies, being together in that way again came so, so… 

After every date gone wrong, after every stressful week at work, in the midst of every family drama and friendship breakdown, you found yourself seeking respite in his apartment, between his bedsheets. In his tongue lapping at your pussy; in the head of his cock bruising the back of your throat until he spilled his release into your mouth; in the slow, deep, precise thrusts of his hips as he buried himself inside you over and over and over and over, taking your mind off the stress and concentrating only on making you feel good, on helping you forget everyone and everything else–… 

And now?

Well, now, you’re on your way back from yet another miserable date.

About three months ago, you stopped even considering giving the taxi drivers directions to your own place. Now, when you slide into the backseat, you automatically reel off the address you always end up at after a night like this. When your dates only talk about themselves, or say something so wildly out of pocket that it makes your toes curl (and not in a good way), or exclusively go on and on and on about their ‘crazy’ ex partner, you’ve grown all too used to showing up pouting at your friend’s front door. 

What? 

Being greeted by his knowing smirk and him inviting you inside is familiar; stepping across the threshold and kicking off your shoes in the hallway feels just so… easy.

Flopping down on the couch is easy, and waiting for Seungcheol to come back into the living room with two gleaming glasses and a bottle of wine is easy. Shuffling closer until you have your head resting against his shoulder is easy. Sipping at a chilled glass of rosé with his arm around you, the tip of his finger rubbing tiny circles against the point of your shoulder, eyes fluttering at this perfectly normal, totally platonic, absolutely-not-leading-anywhere-this-time contact is…

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks a few seconds after you set your now half-empty glass down. Your lips curl a little into a grimace on one side and a soft laugh rumbles deep in his chest.

You swear you can feel it vibrate all the way down to your bones.

“What is there to even talk about?” you sigh. “He wouldn’t stop comparing me to his mother, strike one. Spent twenty minutes explaining the plot of my favourite movie back to me, strike two. And then, after all that, threw a tantrum when I swerved his kiss goodbye after he’d eaten basically a whole loaf of garlic bread. Strike three. You’re out.”

He laughs again, and you adjust your head to peer up at him but he isn’t looking at you. He’s staring off at the opposite wall, not even glancing down when his arm tightens to pull you even closer. On cue, you nuzzle your head down into the muscle beneath his t-shirt, and you sigh. 

“What’s so funny?” you ask. 

“Nothing,” he says breezily. “Just… You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

“I don’t deliberately go out with people one screw short of a toolbox, Cheol,” you grumble, lightly slapping his chest. “They always seem fine when we start talking.”

“Mhm,” he hums. You feel him move slightly and then his lips are being pressed to the part of your hair. You’re sure it’s supposed to be a little condescending, but it kind of tingles instead. But that’s just because of the way his breaths play over your roots. Isn’t it? “I know.”

“Trust me, I’d love nothing more than to find someone who—”

“Hey, I know, y/n,” he says again, still softly but just a little firmer this time. “It’s not your fault all these guys are dicks. But-…”

He trails off, tongue pressed lightly against his top teeth, and decides that maybe finishing this sentence isn’t the smart way to proceed. You wait a few seconds, just in case he changes his mind, and poke at his chest again when he doesn’t. 

“But what?” You ask. 

He shakes his head. “Nothing. It was a stupid joke. Don’t worry about it.”

“Tell me,” you whine. “You know I hate it when you do that.”

It’s his turn to sigh, now. “But…” he starts, pausing for a mixture of allowing his nerves to settle and for dramatic effect. “I’m not complaining: the worse your date goes, the better sex we have after.”

It momentarily stuns you into silence and you suck your teeth at the remark, shaking your head. But you don’t sit up, you don’t shove him away, you don’t argue the point he’s just made whether it was a joke or not. Because…

“I hate that you’re right.”

His hand slides down behind you until it’s wrapped around your waist, his bicep strong against your back and his fingers light as they fiddle with the fabric of your blouse. 

“No you don’t,” he tells you, lips tweaking up on one side. 

You sigh, burrowing closer into his chest. He’s wearing the cologne he knows you like most and it smells faint, worn, as if he’s had it on for hours, all despite being only dressed in basketball shorts and a white vest. His plans tonight started and ended with you, and showing up here wasn’t promised until you were on his doorstep. Something about knowing he wore it just in case triggers an all too familiar ache between your legs.

Giving in to it?

Ha. 

It’s too fucking easy.

“Shut up,” you grumble. Your hand uncurls and your fingers splay over his chest, confessing your agreement and laying the foundations for you even if you deny what you want out loud. “Yes, I do.”

“Oh?” He asks at the exact moment you can feel his nails graze at your skin beneath your shirt. “Do you really?”

“Yeah.” You shift slightly, searching for just a crumb of relief from the press of your thighs, but it never comes. 

“I see.” He flattens his palm against your side, the other hand tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, eyes not quite meeting yours as they fixate on the strands already sliding back to their former place against your cheek. 

He gently clears his throat, tongue darting out over his lips for the most fleeting of moments, and when he speaks again, it’s lower, quieter, softer. “But if you hate it sooo much…” he ducks his head, close enough that his lips brush the corner of your mouth as he moves them. “Why are you here?”

He bumps the tip of his nose against your cheek, subtly turning your face so if you so much as shuffle, hiccup, breathe in too deeply, your smiles would meet. But they don’t. A hair’s breadth apart, you linger, eyes meeting his in a scorching challenge. One he doesn’t back down from. One he holds, and holds, and holds – waiting, for you, for his answer.

“Because,” you croak. Your throat feels dry, your eyelids suddenly heavy, lashes fluttering. 

“Because?” he taunts, his chuckled exhale tickling the tiny hairs all over your skin. 

You maintain his gaze still, and he chuckles, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger. when you don’t speak for a few seconds more, he takes it upon himself to finish the sentence for you.

“Because you know,” he drawls, gravelly but still somehow heaven-sent and honey-sweet. “That no-one else does it for you the same way I do. Do they?”

You shake your head, the muscles in your neck tight as you wrestle with them not to surge forward and topple against him in a kiss. Seungcheol is an easily pleased man, but you know he loves a bit of a chase and it would be a little rude not to reward his hospitality by giving him one. 

“Say it,” he urges. You’re acutely aware of how his breaths stop fanning against your face once the words are out of his mouth, but you don’t give him anything yet. “Come on. You could have any one of those idiots if you wanted them, but you don’t.” A pause. “Do you?”

You swallow hard, cheeks growing hot. You shake your head again, “No.”

“Because…”

And after one, two, three, four, five thundering beats of your heart—

“Because I want you.”

Seungcheol smirks as he pulls your chin up, finally bringing his plush lips down against your own. It’s soft. almost tender. Barely moving — just a press, but it sends waves of energy through you anyway. 

“You’ve got me,” he says, pulling back an inch, studying your desperate eyes with his own. “Always gonna have me.”

And suddenly, it’s like his entire world might stop if he lets you go.

Both of his hands cup your cheeks as you shift up onto your knees, your own fingers grasping for dear life at his vest. He kisses you as if he could swallow you whole: hard and deep, breathing hot through his nose as his tongue works its way into your mouth and finds your own. You groan, and hearing the sound draws one out of him, too. There’s just something about kissing Seungcheol, and being kissed by him: you don’t even have to think. He just does. You just do. It’s easy.

His hands find the bottom of your shirt and he pulls upwards, separating from your lips to pull it over your head and toss it haphazardly towards the floor. He reconnects with you almost immediately, hands sliding down from your face to your exposed neck, to your shoulders, toying with the strap of your bra.

“You wear this for me, or him?” he asks, breathing heavily as he looks down at your covered tits, the red and white garment sitting pretty against your skin.

“Who d’you think?” you ask, equally fighting to gasp air into your lungs. 

“Better not have been for fuckin’... Captain mommy issues,” he mutters, kissing you hard one more time before his lips attach to the side of your neck. “Never liked the sound of that guy. Thought you were too good for him.”

“S’that right?” You ask, tilting your head back and stuttering out a sigh, lacing it with wisps of a laugh. “You never said so.”

He sucks your skin into his mouth and you swear you can feel every capillary beneath the surface burst one by one, your body-heat climbing to almost unbearable territory. “You were excited,” he says. “Just ‘cause I don't agree with your choices, doesn’t mean I’m gonna be an ass about it.”

And for someone trying their best to cover your throat in as many bruises as possible (no doubt so that if you bump into the asshole from HR who took you out tonight when you’re back at work on Monday, he’ll see that you had a plenty good time without him), it�� feels kind of sweet that he’d hold himself back in the name of your theoretical happiness.

“Yoo good to me,” you chuckle. You’ve long since released your hold on his vest and are now threading your fingers through his hair. He kisses and sucks down over your collarbone, grinning against your skin all the while. 

“So?” he asks, tugging the top of your bra in between his teeth.

You glance down at him, biting your bottom lip at the sight. His pupils are blown-out, drowning his familiar warm, chocolatey eyes in black pools of desire. No lies, that’s always been your agreement. No lies. So you tell him the truth, pushing your chest up towards him and pressing his head down slightly so his top lip brushes against your tit. 

“Wore it for you, Cheol.”

“Mhm. That’s my girl.”

He sits up straight and pulls you down to him, smashing his lips against yours again as his hands slide around your back, fingertips making quick work of your bra clasp. He pulls the straps down your arms, grunting at the feeling of your breasts relaxing against his own chest; the bra joins your shirt on the floor, and soon after follows his vest, your hands clawing at it to get it off him as fast as you can.

“Up,” he says as your hands trail over his stomach, fingers dipping into every groove of muscle, feeling how they ripple as he reflexively tenses them under your touch. “Now.”

You oblige, climbing off the couch and standing upright. His hand finds the back of your shoulder and he guides you around to the side of the sofa, promptly pushing you down over the arm-rest so your face meets the cushions you were both just sitting on. He pulls your pants down your legs and helps you step out of them, dropping down to his knees and kneading at your thighs with a guttural moan.

“Gonna make you forget all about him, y/n,” he says. “Make you feel so good you won’t even remember his name.”

“Please,” you gasp, feeling his teeth sink into your ass. “So-... fucking good to me…”

He adjusts the position of your legs, bumping them apart until he can settle on his knees between them. His nose drags against the crease between the top of your thigh and the bottom of your ass, his lips trailing kisses all the way from the outside of your leg to where your pussy is throbbing for him. He skips over it, though, nipping and licking at the back of your other thigh, until you’re rocking your hips back to try and push him into your core.

“Be a good girl,” he chuckles, thumbing over the wet-patch in your panties. “I’m gonna look after you. I promise.”

His tongue meets your wetness just a moment after, dragging over the fabric and making you whimper. Your hands scramble to clutch onto something, one grabbing the edge of the seat cushion and the other balling into a fist. 

“Fuck, Cheol,” you hiss, feeling the heat from his mouth all over you. “Please – I need it. I need you.”

“Shh,” he says. You can feel his lips twist into a smile. God, you wish you could see him right now. “I’ve got you.”

When exactly his fingers tucked themselves under the waistband of your underwear, you’re not sure: all you know is that one minute, he’s breathing in your scent through the seat of your panties, and the next he’s yanking them down your legs and diving into your cunt like it’s his last meal on death-row. The sheer force of his hands gripping your thighs and his head burying itself between them makes you stumble forwards, the couch groaning as it shifts against the laminate flooring, and you cry out a wet sob of his name.

Who were you kidding, before, when you thought that this wasn’t going to go anywhere tonight?

The build-up to this started the second you told him about the date a week and a half ago.

But you can’t think about the mediocre pasta dish you ate this evening, or the moron who sat across from you at the table who kept checking his phone and glancing over your shoulder. You can’t think about how many times he went to the bathroom after receiving a text, or how he came back grinning cockily before he sat back down. 

All you can think about is how deep Seungcheol’s tongue fucks into you. How he fucking slurps all the wetness your pussy can give him, how he groans and moans and chuckles every time he shifts his head forward and flicks the muscle over your clit. Your head is spinning and your eyes begin smarting at the corners when his nails on one hand dig harshly into the fat at the top of your thigh. It stings, but it feels so fucking good. Your knees are weak, you’re about to bite clean through your lip in an attempt to be respectful to Seungcheol’s neighbours, and your knuckles are sore from the force with which your fist is clenched. 

Lord, he’s good.

“Don’t hold back,” he gasps, pulling away from you, a string of his own spit and your arousal still connecting him to your pussy. “C’mon, babe. I can feel you’re close.”

The loss of his mouth genuinely feels like the end of the world and you could buckle, in this moment. But he’s done this on purpose: he always does. He knows you. He knows the sounds you make and the way your body moves when you’re tantalisingly on the edge of your climax. His thumbs rub circles into your thighs and you just know he’s got the most obnoxious, insufferable grin on his face behind you while he does it: you can picture it, so perfectly. So easily. 

The orgasm you didn’t quite reach starts to ebb away from you and you give a grumble of frustration, pushing up onto your palms to turn around and look at him.

“You’re such a bastard, Cheol,” you hiss, and he grins back at you, his lips swollen and shiny as he licks over them.

“Get that pretty face back down, baby. I’m not done.”

It feels like a delightful punch in the gut, so you do. You drop back down onto your elbows, feeling him shift his position but you can’t see to what; his body heat never leaves yours even when his hands aren’t on you anymore, so you know he hasn’t stood up or gone far. It’s only when you clear your throat that you feel him again. Sat down with his back to the couch, between your thighs, nosing at your clit to get you worked up all over again: his fingers trail over your folds, collecting your arousal, spreading your lips and tonguing between them. You whine for him, keening and confused but overwhelmed at the stark shift from before. How he touches your pussy like it’s the first time, like it’s the last. 

He presses one long finger inside you, free hand pushing your hips into just the right position that he can suck your clit into his mouth. You feel yourself grinding down against his hand, begging him for more without having the words to ask for it, but Seungcheol doesn’t need to be asked. It’s intuitive to him. Eating you out could well be his day job. Another finger joins the first and he pumps them in and out of you at a pace you adore, his tongue flicking precisely over the bud in his mouth.

Your disappointingly lost orgasm from before starts to creep up on you again, and you know he knows it too. But this time, he doesn’t slow. This time, he doesn’t stop. He hums in the back of his throat: it’s permission, you realise, to come undone; burying your face further into the cushions, you let out a muffled series of expletives, sobs, moans of his name. You tumble over the edge with a broken cry, fingers curling into the couch cushions, and he only pulls away when your knees actually give out.

His strong frame is the only thing still holding you up by the time you’ve stopped twitching through the aftershocks, remembering how it feels to have full lungs and a working pair of eyes. You roll your head to the side as he slips out from beneath you, immediately sliding his arm around your waist and leaning over you to keep you steady. Through the material of his shorts, you can feel his hard-on poking at your ass: the fact that you’re this fucked and he hasn’t put his cock inside you yet makes your eyes water.

“Okay?” he asks, pressing tender kisses down the length of your spine. You just breathe, nodding with difficulty owed to your current position and the way all your muscles suddenly feel a hundred times heavier than normal. “Talk to me, sweetheart. You okay?”

“M’okay,” you say. “Just… gimme a sec…”

He keeps pressing his lips all over your back, hands rubbing soothing circles on your hips as you fully recover. You nod again when you’re a little more communicative, pushing up onto your elbows once more.

“Said I’d look after you,” he says. “And you were so good for me.”

“Yeah?” you ask, swallowing hard as you twist your spine uncomfortably to look back at him. Fuck it, maybe he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. Is that some great secret? Is it such a crime?

“You always are, baby.”

He looks down at you again: at the shape of your body, bent so crudely over the arm of his couch. At your messed-up hair, your smeared makeup, your soft, dewy eyes. He bites his bottom lip, swallowing hard, running a finger from between your shoulder-blades all the way down towards your ass.

“Can I?” he asks, pushing his hips against you again, your still-soaked pussy smearing arousal all over the front of his shorts where it meets them. 

“Please,” you nod, shifting your legs slightly to try and get more comfortable. He drops his shorts in a matter of seconds, cock springing free from their confines. It’s thick and veiny, leaking in his palm as he strokes it, one hand coming back to rest on your hip.

“Fuck, babe,” he sighs. “You’re doing so good.”

The head feels delicious against your swollen cunt and you gasp at the pressure of him sliding through your folds, leisurely lubing himself up with your arousal. It glides over your clit and you can’t contain the slight hiss that escapes you. He starts to say something, his voice just audible to you where you’re propped, but for some reason he stops short, and you don’t quite hear him anyway. There’s not enough time to dwell on it though: your eyelashes flutter closed when he prods at your entrance, pushing into you with hardly any resistance at all, and his unstarted, unfinished sentence is forgotten.

It’s still a stretch to take him and he eases himself deeper until his hips are pressed fully against your ass. He rests there for a moment, letting you adjust, letting your body mould to the shape of his own, and it’s only when you reach back with one hand to gently nudge against his wrist to give an okay that he starts to move.

“Good girl,” he says, quieter this time. Like he’s distracted. Like he’s contemplating. But you don’t ask, because you don’t really want to know: every drag of his cock against your walls feels like fireworks bursting over every inch of your skin, like being engulfed in flame, and nothing could take you out of how electric you feel. “Taking me so, so well.”

His hips start to thrust against you quicker, snapping so his cock buries itself deep but mercilessly quickly into your pussy. It’s only a matter of minutes until you’re clenching around him and when you do, Seungcheol – who you noticed early on into your relationship was one of the most vocal men you’d ever had in the bedroom – stops holding back the sounds you think back to when it’s just you and your trusty vibrator against the world. You swear that half the reason your sexual chemistry with him is so unrivalled is because of how loud you can both get.

You don’t know how long he’s fucking you for, sweat beading over both of your bodies and leaving you slick all over. What you do know, though, is that when he bends down over you, supported by one hand bracing his weight against the cushion by our head, he’s close. 

He isn’t groaning and grunting anymore. He’s whining. So agonisingly hard and so painfully wound up that he could snap. His voice is little more than a whimper in your ear when his lips ghost over the shell of it, thrusts slowing as he tries to stave off his high just a little bit longer.

“Wanna drown in this pussy,” he says, eyes squeezed shut, jaw falling slack as you spasm around his length again. “Shit – I love y-... love this… love this so much-...”

And this time, you fucking notice.

This time, you hear him. You know what he said before, now. When you didn’t care, when you just wanted him to fill you up, when you just wanted to have him pound into you until your brain disconnected from failed romances and shitty dating apps and people who weren’t him. Because he started to say it then, too – started to say I love y–

And this time… you say it, back. 

“I love you too, Cheol.”

Jesus, fuck.

Loving Choi Seungcheol is the easiest thing in the world.

He freezes, buried inside you all the way to the hilt, a bead of sweat running down the bridge of his nose and hanging onto the tip for dear life. His eyes shoot open, his head turns, and you meet his gaze by turning your own. He’s feeling everything. All at once. So are you. Arousal and need and fear – God, so much fucking fear – but love. Adoration, affection, endearment, devotion – shit, he feels it all, and it’s written in every line of his face, and when his lips move into a smile, when the corners of his eyes crease, when he lets it wash over him, it feels better than any orgasm he’ll have for the rest of his life.

Even the one that explodes through him when you start to grind yourself back on his cock and he lets go, fingers scrabbling to hold your hand, lips finding home on the back of your shoulder. He paints your insides with his cum, fucks it into you for as long as he can physically withstand. You don’t even have it in you to chase another climax of your own, too blissed out in the relief of your own feelings to feel inclined to try. 

So, maybe there’s a reason you kept accepting dates with men you knew you weren’t compatible with. 

Maybe there’s a reason you didn’t give those other people a real chance.

Maybe there’s a reason you always found yourself looking forward to the end of every night having dinner with a stranger.

Because all the roads lead you here. Because it’s easy being here – it’s where you belong.

He stays sheathed inside you for a little while longer, pressing kisses everywhere his lips can reach before he has to pull his softening cock from its home between your legs. You lament at the feeling of emptiness, even as his strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you upright for the first time in so long that your legs feel like jelly. It’s okay, though. He holds you against his chest, burying his head into your neck – there’s no way you’re going to fall.

(At least, no more than you already have.)

“I’ll give you everything,” he whispers to you, moving your hair out the way so he can press small, doting kisses to the line of your jaw. “I can give it to you. I was a fucking idiot before – I’ll give you everything I have. I don’t know if I can be perfect but anything you want–...”

“I just want you, Cheol,” you tell him. “Everything – screw all that. I just want you.”

“Be with me?” he asks. You nod, feeling him light up in a smile for the hundredth time tonight. Even though you can’t see it, you’re sure it’s as blindingly beautiful as the first smile he sent your way, all those years ago. (It was Joshua’s birthday. You remember that, now.) And the second. And every damn time since. “Forever, this time.”

“Forever, this time,” you agree.

Because spending forever with the man who lifts you into his arms and carries you towards his shower, so you can clean down and get ready for bed? Right now, it sounds so –

But everything with Seungcheol has always been easy. Easier than with anyone else.

thank u so much for reading! likes, reblogs, comments + feedback are all always so appreciated<3

[booksbluegurl]

Study Tip #2

How to not be overwhelmed by the vastness of your study syllabus?

I used to look at my one subject and get excited, but then I'd look at the another and another and another. And I'd get so excited to study that I wouldn't even want to study anymore. It felt like something that's too much to be done in the current moment. Or even in the whole day, week, month or year.

The way I fought through this is by sheer willpower. I do not exactly know of a hack. What I've done could be called a hack, because it worked for me perfectly but it takes a lot of will power that, let me tell you, you're definitely capable of.

Few steps that I used to not let myself feel overwhelmed before studying:

1: Let yourself actually feel overwhelmed. Don't get scared of it, don't shy away from it. Accept it. Whatever thoughts come to your mind, accept it. That's why I'm telling you to have some time set aside to analyse the syllabus. All of it. And when you do get overwhelmed, take a break, go for a walk and come back with the decision of doing what's in point 2.

Example:Lets say you have 15 chapters of English, 10 Chapters of Chemistry and 20 chapters of Biology. All of them are a little complex and lengthy. Go through the textbook, or the contents to atleast familiarise yourself with it all.

2: Now that you have good understanding of your syllabus, you must have atleast mentally broken it down into various parts. Now pick a part that you can do.

Example:Lets say you have picked up Cell Cycle from biology or you've picked up learning about particular poem from English or you've picked up Periodic Table from chemistry.

3: Often times we overestimate our boundaries specially if we're doing something for the first time, or after a long time. So, if you're panicking because you weren't able to finish the task you put for yourself (point 2), it's alright. You did great. Even if you have done is thousands times before, it's alright. Give yourself atleast 3-5 tries before judging yourself. That means, wait for the next 3-5 tasks. You'd likely be able to completely atleast 1 of them. How?

Example: Now, you realised that you weren't able to finish studying the whole chapter in a day. You're panicking but hold on, darling, let's take a deep breath, focus and will yourself to stay strong. Now, take one of these, let's say the cell cycle, break it down- 1. Read the contents of the chapter in text book.

2. Look at the diagrams, understand them, make them.

3. Read one topic at a time, let's say, Mitosis.

4. Do the questions of Mitosis.

5. Go to the next thing.

4: This time while setting how big or small that task should be, think about your last boundary: were you able to just scratch the line of the surface or were you far behind? And then set your next goal or task according to that.

One of the very important things to remember is that you shouldn't lose your hope. Everything is do-able. You just need to perhaps look at it for the 2nd or 3rd time. But you can do it.

- Tanishka.

Pictures from pinterest. Credit to the owners.

[rafesbabygirlx]

In Loving Memory of JJ

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Summary: Months after losing JJ, you're finally ready to step into the house you grew up in with him and go through some items to hold as keepsakes for Vivienne. A drabble from my series A Lot of Time has Passed.

A/N: what's the point of my series if I don't make a post honoring JJ. I'm gonna miss him so much next season. :(

Warnings: nothing but sadness

The afternoon sun streamed through the worn curtains of JJ bedroom, casting soft, golden rays across the room. Dust particles floated lazily in the beams, their slow dance almost reverent in the quiet space. The room felt frozen in time—the bed unmade, fishing rods propped up in the corner, and his favorite cap hanging on the bedpost, the fabric frayed at the brim from countless adventures under the relentless Carolina sun. You haven’t been back in your house since you’ve gotten back from hunting Groff. It’s been months and you’ve finally brought yourself to make it past the driveway. You’d make Rafe turn back home every time before. 

You sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, old floorboards creaking beneath your weight, with Vivienne perched on your lap. She toyed with the hem of her dress, eyes wide and curious as she took in the room, so full of memories and stories she was too young to remember. You glanced down at her, into her bright blue eyes, of course she got them from Rafe, but the softness in them always reminded you so much of JJ’s and that it made your heart ache. You knew you needed to tell her who he was—the uncle she would never grow up and make memories with but should always remember him for exactly who he was. Even if she didn’t quite understand now. You’d have no problem telling her over and over again as she grew. 

“This,” you said, voice wavering as you picked up a cracked Polaroid photo from the pile of belongings scattered on the floor, “is my favorite photo of your Uncle J. The bravest, wildest, most loyal person I’ve ever known.” The picture showed JJ at the Boneyard, grinning from ear to ear with his arms thrown around John B and Pope. They looked carefree, a trio bound by loyalty and a brotherhood forged by the rough edges of life on the Cut.

“He liked treasure,” you whispered, more to yourself than to her, the memory carrying you back to the nights JJ would burst through the door with sand still clinging to his skin, eyes bright with excitement as he spun wild tales of their latest adventure. “He and his friends—they were always searching for something. Gold, yes, but it was more than that. They wanted freedom, something better than what the island wanted to give them.”

Your daughter’s tiny fingers reached for the Polaroid, and you let her hold it, watching as she inspected the faded image with a solemnity that seemed far beyond her years.

“He was strong,” you said, eyes drifting to the board in the corner with notes pinned haphazardly—maps scrawled with routes, plans for the next great scheme. “He fought hard for the people he loved. He would’ve protected you, sweetheart. He would’ve made you laugh until your sides hurt and taken you out on the boat, showing you the stars and telling you stories about them.”

Your gaze shifted to the corner of the room where an old motorcycle helmet sat, its surface scratched and worn. “And he loved motorbikes,” you added, a soft smile breaking through the grief. “He’d ride that old bike down to the beach with the wind in his hair, reckless and free. It was his escape, his way of feeling alive when the weight of everything got too heavy.” You could almost hear the roar of the engine, the laughter that followed as he raced down backroads with John B chasing behind, whooping with joy.

“He said there was nothing like it,” you continued, eyes misty as you remembered his words. ‘When you’re on the bike, it’s just you and the road, like the world falls away.’”

A knot formed in your throat as you lifted a small shark tooth necklace from the pile, one JJ had worn more days than not. You placed it gently around your daughter’s neck, the string almost comically large on her tiny frame. She looked up at you, wide-eyed and confused, and you smiled, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“He used to say,” you continued, voice breaking, ‘It’s us against the world, always.’” You brushed her curls away from her face and kissed her forehead. “And even though he’s not here, I hope you carry that with you. Be brave, be kind, and always look out for your friends—just like he did.”

The room fell into a peaceful silence, the echoes of JJ’s laughter seeming to hang in the air. Your daughter leaned back against you, clutching the Polaroid tightly. In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of your brother’s life—the sand, the sea, and the stories—you knew that JJ’s spirit would always be with you both, carried in the stories you told and the memories you kept alive.

You didn’t notice Rafe standing in the doorway, watching you as you wiped away your tears. When you stood up, holding Vivienne in your arms and packing a box of things you wanted to keep, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you. His embrace was strong and steady, and as you buried your face in his chest, the weight of your grief spilled over. He held you tightly, silently, as you cried into his chest for what felt like forever, until the room felt a little less empty.

When the moment passed and your tears had run dry, he followed you outside, where the Pogues were waiting. They stood together, their expressions heavy with shared sorrow. You couldn’t find the words, but they understood, their eyes speaking the silent language of loss.

Rafe took a breath and stepped forward. “I know you don’t like me,” he began, his voice steady but raw. “I know you don’t like having me around. But JJ’s gone, and I need you to know that Y/N  and Vivienne mean everything to me. I want you here, as much as you’ll allow it. To keep his memory alive for her. To be the aunts and uncles she needs—not by blood, but by choice.”

The group listened, their guarded expressions softening. “Thank you,” Rafe said, glancing at each of them. “Thank you for being the people you are, for being there for her. She’s lucky to grow up with you all around.”

A quiet nod from John B, a watery smile from Kie, and the unspoken promise of family settled between you all. You mouth them a grateful, “thank you” for not only being there for you but for listening to Rafe. In that moment, the weight of grief shifted, just a little, shared by those who loved JJ the most.

[meangirlstobin]

Do you have any hcs about Steve and his parents? Or just Steve hcs in general

oh god, do i. i have so many; silly, serious, overlapping, contradicting but i will just stick to my hcs which are (mostly) canon-based.

I've spoken about this before but I tend to hc steve and his mum having a enmeshed/emotional incest dynamic. I think mrs harrington overrelied on steve emotionally and divulged inappropriate details about her relationship with steve's father etc. so, steve and his mother are very close but he isn't fully aware of how damaging their dynamic is because he's more focused on his "asshole" dad, you know? I think steve's relationship with his mother is one of the biggest points of contention between stobin throughout their lives. Robin just wants what's best for steve but she can't understand why he doesn't just cut his mum off!!!

When it comes to mr h my thoughts are less concrete (unless it's about the mr h getting repeatedly kidnapped hc). I don't think he's horribly abusive but I don't think he's a good parent either. He's more emotionally distant than his wife. I typically see him being a "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" type. He wants his son to do his best and be the best but he's not going to provide more than the bare minimum that steve needs to get there.

I do think mr harrington has gotten physical before but when they argue I picture him as more of the dismissive type, "why am i even wasting my energy on this/you" kind of vibe.

I also think canon suggests steve's parents being absent (steve falling down the stairs as a baby (how!!!???), he rarely mentions them unless to compain about his dad or the one line about his mum). I don't think it's to the extent we see in fanon but it's definitely more than incidentally. When his parents are home, I think they oscillate between being overbearing yet passive aggressive and living like roommates. Steve has his own life, friends and hobbies and so do his parents but maybe every few days they're all around to have dinner together.

I think steve's parents love him, a lot even, but there are a lot of emotional issues which have complicated and soured the relationship. It's not unfixable nor is it crazy hostile but I think steve often leaves interactions with his parents feeling sad.

Obviously I have my beloved bpd steve hc (came to me in a vision dw about it), so I think steve was a child who had a lot of big confusing emotions that his parents were not equipped to deal with. That coupled with steve's mum being emotionally relient on him I think he drew into himself a lot. He's a social creature so I think he's most present around friends or girlfriends.

There was one interview where joe keery described steve as aloof and I think about that a lot! I think it's a perfect descriptor for him, especially in s1. he's kind yet distant but when he feels connected to someone he can be startlingly emotionally honest (moreso as the seasons progress).

Okay this is really long and i've barely scratched the surface on my hcs lmao but i hope u found this interesting! <3

[sordidmusings]

Just a life update and opening!

Brought up because of an ask wondering if I still do stuff here so I figured I'd put out some of whats goin on if anyone is interested! Also throwing it into the void of the internet feels less guilt inducing than forcing it on specific people especially after how overwhelmed folks tend to be cuz I'm bad at metering it out and not just being like 'light jokes about struggle that don't scratch the surface or say anything meaningful' and 'here is all the dark lore' 💀 It's also been a struggle because there really does sometimes feel like theres a whole ass language barrier within your own language when you're AuDHD.

I do still do headcanons and write and draw and yada yada there’s just been quite a bit happening and I’m doing poorly at keeping up with life maintenance let alone things I enjoy 🥴 with writing especially in my hobbies I find myself discouraged in what feels like poor quality of my writing and seeing that reflected back to me because I am Weak 💀 general overview of some of the bigger problems below the cut if you’re interested but I won’t bother y’all with the whole picture! Will be more a summary/overview/alluding to things over getting into gory details. Basically a lot will be covered but I won’t force anything below the broad strokes on y'all.

The end is an ask for people to please reach out if they are struggling so please take that seriously. I offer a space with me but please find wherever in this world you are at least somewhat comfortable and have someone be there with you while you process 🤍 I will have a header above that little piece just incase you'd like to skip to only reading that which is completely fine!

CW for mental health talks, allusions to family issues, references to rape and abuse, death by suicide, and suicidal ideation.

What's Up, Doc?

Between hospitalizations (old and new issues and unfortunate near misses 🤡), my couple jobs (the days my body ain’t tryin to give up and even some days it still is means back to the grindstone. Thank you capitalistic overlords 💀), money stresses (medical debt plus just like y'all know shit ain’t the best for most everyone rn), the spring struggle (nightmares + flashbacks get worse from seasonal + anniversaries of men not caring for consent amongst other things lmaoooo), the mental health slew (diagnosed with AuDHD and most of the big hitters besides a personality disorder), and a few other life happenings and old traumas I’m doing a terrible job at everything 🤡 most of it ain’t new so I know all the proper things to do to help for everything from years of therapy and managing the symptoms and all that but dotting my i’s and crossing my t’s hasn’t been offering any relief for a long while so I’m floundering and quite exhausted.

The health issues making everything difficult and painful ain’t helping but I’m also not being the best at taking care of some of them because Why Bother 💀 Many are issues I’ve had for years that ebb and flow in severity and I’m just tired of feeling them and having to manage them. I’m sure any of you with chronic issues understand the feeling well. Those with years and years of major depressive disorder probably also understand the frustration and exhaustion and guilt with knowing you should enjoy something, you WANT to enjoy it, but your body just can’t produce the reaction it should.

I tend to isolate because I’m managing it poorly enough that the topic tends to crop up with the closer few if they ask and that goes Badly cuz, even if they think they won’t, people get uncomfy with the topics which just makes me feel Worse from guilt and sometimes frustration from it being passed over for their comfort or lack of understanding. I am lucky enough to have more recently found one person who Gets It and a beloved soul from lovely old Jersey came back into my life so the bigger problem in that situation is me allowing myself to consistently receive support from them 🤡 One’s so sweet always telling me I can call any time and the other is of the same vein and my dumbass brain keeps being like “but that would bother them” or the usual “you deserve to get worse not get help” 🤡🤡🤡. Clown ass behavior.

Also some bad coping mechanisms make my typing and communication sloppy as hell and I’m quite ashamed of that so best hide that away while it’s going on 💀 due to insistence that it’s Fine I have forgone that instinct to what feels like very Poor Result 🥴 ah the eternal struggle between needing to be Seen to fight the sense of isolation and worthlessness but also being petrified of being perceived while imperfect. Not having any of the connections really be in person doesn’t help too much with feelings isolation because I don't really have anyone around me besides parents that have literally said "why are you making us deal with this" about the intentional near death miss 💀💀💀 my immediate world feels very much like it wants me gone in explicit and subtle ways but c'est la vie. Beggars can’t be choosers so at this point I’m likely just being ungrateful 🤡

One thing making it harder to keep trying is my folks’ years of insistence that I don’t understand my own experience and I’m just dramatic and make things up. It’s an echo of many painful experiences including a whole group intentionally playing games with my sense of reality to enable their friend’s abuse (they got unconsensual nudes from him out of it so that’s worth the price of treating someone like that right?). Such is life.

One of the new things I’m uncertain how to approach handling properly is the grief and such shifting back to the forefront from the first anniversary of my childhood brother figure being taken from us by his bipolar depression. I have known people taken by suicide before but not this close to home. My childhood wasn’t the happiest but he and his family were a bright place in it. His little sister was my best friend in the whole world through my childhood and their family treated me more like family than my own. He was the best mix of a good and bad influence in an older brother figure I could’ve wished for. He fought long and hard but exhaustion hits us all, sometimes even with proper help. What eternally pains me is knowing how helpless and scared he must have felt and even worse how absolutely alone he felt. That was his last feeling in this life. I can only hope that more than anything, whatever happens next is giving him relief, peace, and rest.

Talk on reaching out below!

On that note, if any of you experience suicidality too, my messages (or ask if you’re more comfy on anon) are always open. This is an issue that’s been in my life in many forms since I was 12, so I will not shy away from you or your thoughts. Even if shared with something uncomfortable or "ugly", I find the discomfort of sitting with someone’s pain negligible in comparison to being the one in pain so why not prioritize that person in their need? It’s also negligible under the importance of truly holding space to process those hurts and stresses instead of just simple little niceties.

I am not the best at being active but if I see any of these messages especially we will truly talk. I know how insanely isolating and disappointing it can feel when someone offers support to be nice and then shoves to the next topic or barely responds because it makes them uncomfortable. It is a bitter pill we must often swallow to forgive those who think they will help for making things worse because they have bit off more than they can chew. It is also a bitter feeling that that reaffirms to us that by our very nature, we are too much to handle and are too much to deal with for sharing our internal space and circumstance. But at the same time, all of us are simply human so who am I to malign someone for making mistakes or being imperfect? So long as someone truly wants to try, there is all the reason in the world to give them grace.

Qualifications kind of???

The one good thing that has come from a lot of the experiences that I’ve gone through is that it has forced perspective on me and forced me to learn skills in holding space, validating, and connecting to others in immense pain. No one is perfect in this skill (even therapists struggle - the number who have said they don’t know where to start untangling the traumas or who have cried at it and in turn needed comfort 💀 a strange experience I know my darling at least gets too lol) but I have found in both giving and receiving that honesty and openness is W A Y more important than being perfect.

This is something I’ve watched more people struggle with than not as life circumstances has not made it so that they must learn the skill at the same time that there are resources to learn it, so I may make more posts with advice for it than the bit I go through here. I’m not a licensed therapist so this isn’t going to be a clinical breakdown of how to be someone’s therapist but I would consider my experience as a confidant, consistent reading up on psychological and related sociological research, and experience going through various forms of therapy worthy of giving solid advice. Unfortunately, co-morbidities and resistant brain chemistry really make using the skills on myself Difficult 💀 but as brief examples of experience for validity speaking on this, I’ve been to a lot of group therapy where licensed therapists literally coach you on this, guided a safe space/group for SA survivors in college, coached friends who couldn’t afford therapy through suicidality or abusive situations, and coached survivors through feelings and decisions when deciding whether or not to charge or going through the process of charging their abuser. All of which is much easier to be effective to people you know irl but the support online can be nothing to snub your nose at either. None of this is to say I'm perfect or exceptional - neither is true - just that I’ve had circumstances and experiences that afford me a bit of extra knowledge in this.

In the vast majority of cases, someone who is struggling and coming to you for help wants you to be there - your thoughts, your feelings, your perspective. They don’t want someone sitting uncomfortably and saying the occasional “sorry” they want engagement because more than anything they don’t want to be alone. In a basic example, if you find yourself freezing when someone comes to you with something you don’t know how to handle, instead of saying nothing or only short cliches due to fear of making a mistake, be honest about that. “I’m not sure what to say right now to be honest because that’s so much to deal with. I can’t imagine having to live with that all the time. Is there anything in it frustrating you the most or that you’re having the most difficulty tackling?”. This is active listening and engagement. You are being honest with where you are at so they aren’t guessing what you’re thinking, you are showing that you see how overwhelming the situation is, especially for the person who has to live with it. If you can’t handle a conversation where these issues exist, how do you think it feels to live with them day in and day out, sometimes for years or the majority of a life?

Asking questions is SUPER important too. Trust the other person to only share what they are comfortable with and don’t assume all questions are bad. Asking questions is one of the truest and simplest ways to show you care because why would you want to know more if you don’t give a shit? Asking questions is also very helpful and one of the reasons talking to others about your issues is important - it gives the person struggling something to react to and give perspective. It helps them process the issue in ways they won’t be able to do by themselves. This may make the process sound slightly manufactured but I promise it’s not, especially as it becomes second nature to know what thing to use when. Communication is a skill so advice around it will inherently make it sound more clinical than the actual process is.

People are also not a monolith so while this type of being there works for the vast majority some people may not like it. That is also where communication comes in - check in with the person on if this is helping and what isn't helpful. Make sure to adjust when you make a mistake.

Conclusion

I’m happy to hold space for other issues as well. I’m no replacement for a therapist but I’ve been a helpful supplement to many people I knew struggling throughout the years so I’m at least okay at that! Since I’m doing pretty bad functionally right now the help won’t be as consistent as I wish but I will give whatever is in my power just like these things deserve. I hope to get better soon so that I can properly offer a stronger foundation of support outward again 🤍

[fizzingwizard]

fav bits from the tamayama and otsuka interview about jigen

otsuka describing the initial reaction to him taking on jigen's role as "ehh what happened to Kiyoshi!?!"

"jigen isn't arrogant like most people" (bahahaha) he accepts people how they are and "I think that sportsmanship of his is really the appeal of jigen" yes YES that is a big part of my love for jigen and the lupin iii characters in general

"he's in great contrast to Lupin who is a bundle of greed" lol

lupin and jigen don't need to speak to communicate or to express their bond, though usual anime would probably want to put it into words. ehh this is really just a holdover from 70s values and expectations of men, what is and isn't manly to do or say. but it is interesting how it's developed into a kind of specific lupin-ish flavor today when it's so much less common. and people in general, not just men, understand that words can only ever scratch the surface where there's real depth of feeling.

tamayama: "SHY desu yo ne Jigen tte" x'D

"and I don't think he's a woman hater, I think he really likes them" THANK YOU otsuka I am validated everyone else can go home now thanks for playing buh-bye

also women think he's cute because he doesn't know what to do around them so he runs away lol. this is why in the book fujiko steals in jigen's gravestone lupin had graffiti'd "naive" (初) on jigen's picture. jigen and goemon should start a "grown ass men who haven't figured out women are just people" club

tamayama: "CUTE desu yo ne" x'DDD

otsuka praising the scene of jigen and goemon pedaling the tandem bike going "eh ho eh ho eh ho" lmao

so I don't wear or care about watches, so I hope I understood this. but basically on set tamayama complained about the strap on jigen's watch having holes and a "rock and roll" vibe I guess. too flashy for jigen I think was the point. so he made the prop department switch it for a normal one. and otsukas just like "yes correct."

tamayama: "I learned a lot from you, like about men's dandyism. I'd like to become older in the same [cool] manner as you" otsuka: "with a face like gary oldman"

they spent so little time talking about jigen's magnum and stuff even though it had its own section... I swear twenty years ago that would have been the longest part haha.

this interview was made for the fan girls i guess "ooh he's kind and cute and shy!!" haha. jk jk i enjoyed it. they surprisingly didn't spend a lot of time discussing the movie either, but that was kinda nice because no spoilers and it felt less like a twelve minute-long ad. just two jigens in a meeting of the mutual admiration society.

[powderblueblood]

a biography for Ronnie ecker please

16 + 22 for your ronnie

the only correct ronnie there is

interrogate me about my characters

when i finally just really start fuckin honest to god writing my ronnie ecker vs the world verse...... Then You Will Realize

no but i love u so much thank u

16. DARK SECRETS/'SKELETONS IN THE CLOSET'

so, we're aware that ronnie's mom and dad aren't in the picture. she's a card carrying member of the dead parent club, alongside eddie munson. since her dad passed from a hemorrhage at too young of an age, ronnie's feared two things that she keeps extremely close to the chest-- number one, ending up like her dad. number two, ending up like her mom. dead, or locked up in the ward. her dad's whole thing was a freak misunderstanding with god, who she still kinda believes in-- god, not her dad. her dad's way dead. but, her mom's whole thing... talking to the walls, hearing voices, locking ronnie in the bathroom to keep her from people that were 'coming to take her', wasting away in bed for days on end... there are some days when feelings like that, paranoia or anger or listlessness, where those feelings don't feel entirely out of ronnie's reach. when the riotous rhythm of ronnie's mind halts, sometimes out of nowhere, she can understand the pointlessness of it all. the bottomless sadness. she's never told anyone the full extent of what her mom was like when she got bad. not even eddie; barely scratched the surface there because, as much as she loves him, she doesn't think he'll get it. ronnie just really hopes that he'll never have to witness it firsthand, seeing it in her.

22. PEOPLE WHO'VE INFLUENCED THEM GREATLY

i mean, john bonham, max roach, betty davis (this one not that one), robert crumb, animal from the muppets, the list can go on and on and on but! but. number one with a bullet, the crown jewel, her very namesake is veronica 'granny' ecker senior. granny ecker is something of a jack of all trades if you ask anyone of a certain age in hawkins. retired now, but in her day she cut her main trade on mccorkle's farm, driving a tractor and balancing the books. she's had her hand in every business in town in one way or another; helped a young and pregnant joyce byers score a job in melvald's, helped bev take over ownership of the hideout after her husband mysteriously passed away. granny even sold the house that's been in her family for generations in order to make sure that her daughter had the best psychiatric care possible and moved to forest hills trailer park without even thinking twice about it. she took a tiny eddie munson in for dinner when ronnie dragged him to her trailer like a mangy stray cat, and made sure that both he and wayne were kept in food from that day onwards. people have often told her she should campaign for mayor but she's batted her hand and mumbled something about the people of hawkins having to get cool with a lot of leftie shit real quick. granny ecker is a bottomless well of goodwill and kindness, held seamlessly together by a tough-as-nails exterior and ronnie wants nothing more than to grow up to be exactly like her. even more than that, ronnie wants to make good in her life so she can ensure granny is as well taken care of as the people she tirelessly takes care of. she's way overdue it.

[canongf]

hi i know you said it was okay to gush in your askbox about our f/os and i am feeling Emotional about my husband copia so i thought i'd gush a little bit in your askbox if that's okay? i just got some cute art of him and me that i commissioned and i've just been so overwhelmed with love i need to get it out to someone ;w;

you know i feel like i suck at explaining how copia makes me feel and like how much i love him like i have all of these feelings bubbling inside of me but i don't know how to get them out without feeling like i'm not doing them justice because my love for him is so strong so all-encompassing that i hardly know what to do about it. i've never felt this way before it's kind of scary but a good scary.

like loving him is like a warm blanket on a cold stormy night. loving him is like the first sleep back in your own bed after a long trip away from home. loving him is like finding the perfect piece that pulls together and completes your favorite outfit. i feel echoes of his love in every kind thing that comes my way. his love makes me want to be a better person, to work on myself and have the motivation to push towards my goals. not because i feel like he wouldn't love me if i didn't, but because his love is my motivation, his love reminds me that i'm worthy of love, i'm worth the work it takes for me to find my own happiness. i'm being completely genuine when i say that i don't think there's anyone out of all the people who like him who understand him like i do and who have this same connection to him and i'm glad for that.

i just feel like it's so unfair that he's not real so we can't have our life together ;-; like i want to surprise him by showing up in the crowd at one of his rituals when he's out on tour, and of course he makes a big deal out of it and makes sure that everyone knows that his one and only, his sweet spouse is here with them tonight and they better applaud for it right fucking now!! but when he's back home i want to stay up late playing mario kart with him (he's got quite the competitive streak, so i let him win or else he'll pout, and as cute as he is when he's grumpy like that i figure it's easier to just let myself drift into second place and plus he's even cuter when he's got that smug victorious smirk on his face, lightly teasing me for getting hit by his blue shell), and watch shitty horror movies and laugh at the weird plotlines and bad acting. i want to go out to nice dinner dates and wear cute coordinated outfits. i just want to be with him more than anything in the whole world it drives me crazy how much i love him.

okay wow sorry that was A Lot like i said i'm just very emotional tonight thinking about him and how happy i am to have him in my life....i just think about him all the time i love him so so much....

ending this off with this picture of him that i love!! it's been my lockscreen for months because i can't bring myself to change it ;w;

my husband with a puppy,,,,,(oh to be a puppy being held by him...)

I AM JUST...

i think i have probably written and deleted at least 20 responses to this ask because it is so overwhelmingly beautiful and i feel like you do!!! words can't do it justice!!! this love is bigger than words!!! this love is bigger than me!!! and i'm so glad you have it!!!!!

i am so glad you have it!!! i am so glad you have him!!! i know that this message doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of the way you feel for him and the way he feels for you but the feelings in this message alone are more than what so many people can even imagine!!! this message makes me feel like when you see the ocean or the grand canyon for the first time!!! when all you can do is breathe it in and think about how we are so little and there are things that exist around us that are so overwhelming and vast that we can't barely comprehend it!!! and it makes you a little emotional!!!

thank you, thank you, thank you for coming to me and sharing your feelings with me!!! every single piece of this is just so beautiful and so overwhelming and it makes me feel whole!!! please do not ever apologize about sharing a lot or sharing at all and please know that my ask box is always open for you to gush in!!! you and your husband are always welcome here!!!!! 🖤

[primewritessmut]

symbrock, both if you want 4, 5, 21, 22, 23, 25

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

Honestly? I would love to play a video game of a down trodden man befriending a blood-thirsty alien that shares his body. Is it an RPG? A horror? A dating sim?

YES

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

Goddamn you.

You know music is my weak area as a patron of the silences. Which means that songs don’t just come to my mind when I think of characters. However, I’m going to go find something. Just… hold on. It’s going to take me at least 30 minutes.

High Enough — K Flay

Go With the Flow — QotSA

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

Monsterfucking, baby. There are so many things you can do when one of the characters is just goo and I haven’t even begun to scratch the surface.

If you want me to be actually serious, there’s something about being fully known by someone else that’s always really compelling to me. Regardless of where the canon comes from (comics, movies, cartoons), it’s clear that the symbiote and Eddie understand each other on a level that’s… beyond. It’s a big part of why I’m drawn to the characters that I’m drawn to, I think, and these two are not an exception.

I don’t like being constrained by the symbiotes method of communication. A lot of the symbiote’s communication in the comics is non-verbal (at least to us, the readers) and it’s SO FUCKING HARD to write. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to eventually create a fic like that — I got close, once — it just means that it’s hard.

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to ths character? Something you don't like?

I’m not much of a fic reader BUT I like it when Symbrock fics deal with the moral dilemma that Eddie has to face in regards to eating people. It’s sort of glossed over in the comics and completely ignored in the movies, but the realities of sharing a body with an alien that eats human brains is so interesting and I love it when writers tackle it head on.

Sort of on the flip side, I think it’s too easy to humanize the symbiote in a way that fundamentally changes what their relationship is/can be. When Venom is too human, I don’t particularly enjoy it. I want my cosmic space horror to retain some of their cosmic space horrorness. (Although, I’m sure I’m guilty of this to some extent, too. Like I said, it’s easy to do.)

23. Favorite picture of this character?

What can I say? I’m a sucker for the symbiote acting as clothing and Eddie’s heavy himbo energy.

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

Initially, I thought Eddie was just living a “boy meets parasite, hijinks ensue” kind of life. And, don’t get me wrong, it’s fun to write that energy. But the deeper you dive into these two, the more entangled they are in ways that border on obsession and possession. On both sides.

Their story is a lot darker than I thought at first which was absolutely not a deterrent. Obviously.

Someday, I’m going to write the dangerously co-dependent fic of my dreams. But not today.

[mackenzielovee]

okay that was perfect. i was laying in bed with my mouth open at the audacity of sarah. y/n closed the door, which was clearly saying don't come in, wait for rafe. she came in and got the kids all excited. calling y/n barbie? what even is her problem? she's always had a problem with y/n even though she's hidden it for years after john b broke up with her. i don't understand sarah's motives. it makes you think. i find it so interesting that y/n was on sarah's side but then sarah ruined it by saying that bit about y/n at the lunch. wouldn't she want y/n on her side? so that she could get money from rafe through y/n? not that I think that y/n would, I think she would draw the line there but still. i would think that sarah would want y/n as a confidant.i honestly hope that the kids just forget about sarah as they get older so that memories of her won't cause them any pain. especially connor, I feel like he was closer to sarah than josie. I'm interested to see if sarah tries to come back. i feel like y/n and rafe will sit the kids down and explain to them that sarah isn't coming back because she isn't a good person and if they see her they should stay away. there was a person like that in my parent's life before I came along but they sat my older brother down and told him that she isn't a good person and if he sees her come find one of them, don't talk to her. I've never met her but because I look so much like my parents they show me pictures of her so that if I ever see her I stay away because they think she would recognize me as their daughter.

i feel like y/n and rafe need to sit down together, without having to worry about the kids and just talk about the situation, y/n air's out all of her feelings, and rafe his. rafe explains what exactly sarah did and they decide how to move forward as a family. while I think they are scratching the surface about moving past the situation I think they need to have an extensive conversation to ensure they are on the same page and know each other's feelings.

LOVE this whole analysis, first of all. i completely agree with what you said about sarah, that she should want y/n on her side because, in sarah's mind, y/n is the weaker link. however, sarah is sarah, and she doesn't think anything through (as we've seen over the years).

i also think it's interesting what you've said about them scratching the surface of this issue. i completely agree. sarah has proven time and time again that she can absolutely destroy things with a few words dropped, and i think rafe and y/n have a long way to go in terms of not letting her "step" between them in a lot of ways.

thank you so much for reading and sharing your thoughts with me. you're so wonderful and amazing and supportive, and i feel so lucky. love you bunches, xoxo

[regallibellbright]

[ID: Five pictures of a crocheted amigurumi doll of Namine from Kingdom Hearts. The first shows her full body. The second shows a closeup of her face, while the third and fourth show embroidered and crocheted four-pointed stars on the straps of her sandals. The fifth shows her sitting on a bookcase next to matching dolls of Lea and Xion, in their outfits from the ending sequence of Kingdom Hearts 3. End ID]

All right, I like doing full writeups, so even though I detailed a lot of how I made Namine already, I wanted to put it all in one place and include some detail shots I took. I'd decided back at the start of this project somewhere between February 2019 and summer 2020 that I wanted to make a doll of Namine as part of the set, which is why my standard tag is "Twilight Town Amigurumi" instead of something ice cream-related. I didn't think too much about when I would do her - Roxas's difficulty intimidated me, so he'd be towards the end, Xion I knew would be first because she's my absolute favorite (by which I mean, I made her IMMEDIATELY after we finished 3 and planned the rest after,) and Isa would go last because I don't have as strong feelings about him, but Lea and Namine were both sort of nebulous timing-wise.* Well, I ended up doing Lea second, and then I got tendonitis for the next two years and couldn't crochet nearly as much as I had before. But I wanted and fully intended to get back to this project eventually. And finally, last year, the time felt right. Semi-technical details under the cut!

* Sorry to Hayner, Pence, and Olette, but I only have so much space and these dolls take MONTHS to make since I'm doing their patterns from scratch, so I have to feel REALLY strongly about a character or their design to commit to it. Honestly I'm probably going to do some other stuff between Roxas and Isa just for variety.

I completely understand the desire for Namine to have a new outfit that's not a very simple sundress which she's been wearing since 2004, but also, this was very fortunate to me specifically, getting back into the swing of things. Her design is so simple that I could get used to making things again and then decide to get more complex as I went - her sandals, for example, were originally flat, before deciding midway through that no, heels would be doable, and I wanted the challenge. I completed one version of her hair entirely before getting a better idea that I wanted to test out before trying on Roxas and his VERY nice yarn. I knew going in that they'd be the hardest parts - the only question with her dress was how I'd attach it, really - so I let myself do a lot more experimenting as I felt up to it.

Both of those also include a LOT of sewing. For her sandals, for example, the sole of the shoe is actually the base of her foot, with a color change after the first few rounds done in back loops only. Once the legs were done, I added a border around the front loops to cover that they're all one piece, and that ended up being my attachment point for the three straps, each of which had its own yarn ends to weave in at the end. Plus two more for the heel, attached via the same method and surface crochet. And THEN, finally, you get to the stars. The crocheted pair were made with a very small hook and embroidery floss, and then the same embroidery floss was used to make the embroidered stars on the straps.

Her hair's made up of something like eight different sections sewn overtop a circular yellow "cap" sewn to her head. Each of the long sections (the one behind her back and the one over her shoulder) is its own distinct piece, and then the three central strands of her bangs are another, but virtually everything else is a separate piece from the others. It was a lot of work to make and even more to assemble, but I'm glad I did - it looks fantastic, with much more depth and messiness than it would have as a single piece, and I'm going to be using the same strategy for Roxas's spikes not too far down the line. Good to know it works. Also, in the process I picked up half-treble and treble crochet firmly.

I'd noticed some oddities when I was making her body and legs with how many rounds things were taking relative to the old notes I'd taken on the first two dolls, and the shape of Namine's shoulders in particular, but I figured it was a side effect of me taking VERY makeshift notes on Xion (as I hadn't planned on setting the project aside for two years and had only vaguely planned on making other dolls at all) and Lea's proportions being a bit taller and thinner. It wasn't until I tried to make ears, followed the pattern exactly, and realized they didn't look right that I realized what had happened - I'd been making Namine on a 4 mm hook, when the past two dolls were made on a 3.5, and this difference in gauge changed the size and shaping by extension. This made for a little trouble with the dress - what I'd planned for a more rounded body was trickier with the teardrop-shaped body I had. Fortunately, this proved to be a fairly easy adjustment in the end. Were I not telling people on the internet, no one would know that that dress gets wider a few rows in, and then widens again towards the bottom.

The dress is also where one of the coolest ideas I had paid off, and where the only real idea I had for detailing didn't quite work. I'd vaguely been hoping I could do picots to add further scalloping to the shell stitches at the bottom, which didn't work at the scale I was doing given it would be my first time trying picot. In the end, looking at it, it wouldn't have gotten me the proper shape, either, so I skipped that one.

On the other hand, I'd had a couple ideas from the start about how simple that dress is, and wondered if I couldn't attach the main part AFTER I'd sewn her arms on, and then use the straps so I wouldn't have to sew the dress to her. (For those reading a "how the sausage gets made" post who don't crochet, most amigurumi - the others included - have the clothes on the body attached before attaching the arms and any sleeves overtop, rather than having to account for armholes and the like.) What I ended up doing wasn't QUITE the same, but it was very close - I essentially sewed it partway so I could get her into it, since the top is narrower than the lower portion of her body, then sewed her in the rest of the way and the width difference kept the dress on. Then I made the first strap over her shoulder the same way I had for the sandals, crocheted across her back because the back of her dress is higher in-game than the front (look this thing's so simple that even the seam placement is a detail,) and did the same process with the other.

This took an oddly large amount of trial and error, but it was late when I realized I could be done if I could get the straps tonight, and things like "how many stitches will it take to go from the front of her body to her back" are always a little bit guesswork. In short, despite being a simple-loooking design, there's a surprising amount of work that went into this particular doll. But I'm happy with the end result, and realized the scaling issue just in time to account for it in her arm length and ears - while she's still a bit larger than Xion and Lea on the whole, it's not so noticeable that's unintentional.

As is standard for this group, she has a wire skeleton in her legs, arms, and up and down the back of her torso, in an attempt to make her head a bit less floppy with that hair weighing down a pretty flimsy neck. In the end, that's reasonably successful, and she can sit up with her arms pushed back same as the others without being propped up further. (Their heads are just the nature of the beast, especially with hair like that.) She also has eyebrows, though they're hard to see under the bangs, made of two shades of light yellow embroidery floss to approximate her hair color. It looks good, for all that it's a minor detail that doesn't photograph well.

In all, I'm super happy with how she did. Going to finish my first knitting project (I'm currently trying to figure out purl stitch) before moving on to the one they've all been waiting for for quite some time.

The good news is, changing my phone background today for reference material, I officially feel I have Ideas for how I'm going to do Roxas. I'm still going to be nervous doing some of the detailing - it's going to be tricky ensuring those checkerboard patterns show up at the scale I'll be working at - but while he's going to be a VERY intensive project, I now feel pretty ready to take him on. SOON.

[ugh154628]

You should call a therapist and deal with this stop posting about it stop paying them any sort of mind love yourself and call a therapist and if you really wanted to you could call a lawyer too. You’re being a pissy little bitch at the same time you could get this figured out if you really wanted to crying on Facebook isn’t gonna do shit Gro Up.

Ah yes because minimizing me and calling me a pissy little bitch in the face of the worst experience of my life is going make me listen to anything you have to say LOL. All of that sounds to me like victim blaming and enabling the abuser. You're essentially coming at me about my REACTIONS but disregarding the actual root of the problem, which is fucked. Just put up and shut up is essentially what you said there, and I'm not about it.

And you know, I intend to get therapy. Once I make this stop. It has been traumatizing and I will need to learn to cope with the after math. However, there is no after math. This still ongoing. And that's the thing, therapy is for post trauma. This is not "post" trauma. This is trauma by abuse that has yet to stop. There is no point in going to therapy to learn to cope with abuse that is still current. You make the abuse stop and then you go to therapy to heal. Therapists aren't going to tell you to enable the abuse and teach you how to be a stair case. They expect you to get away from it and then start your healing journey.

The point is that me going to therapy right now would be counterproductive. And even if I wanted to go to therapy, I can't afford it. I don't have health insurance and even when I DID, my therapy appointments in the past were $200 a week AFTER insurance benefits taken out. I'm not made of money like that. I can't even afford the health insurance ITSELF.

And, get a lawyer if I really wanted to? Let me know if you find one around here that will actually take on cyber harassment cases because I have yet to and the closest ones I could find that specialize in cases like this live 200+ miles away from me. The ones around here are cyber stalking DEFENSE lawyers, meaning that they defend the stalkers and not the victims. Also, do you know how much lawyers costs, too? especially for complex cyber/stalking cases like this that will likely drag on in civil suit? I make less than 3k a month. We are talking a whole months worth of my pay and probably more to even hire the fucking lawyer and my bills eat half my income already. I would have to be approved for a loan, which I doubt I would be considering my debt to income ratio right now. But even then, there isn't even a lawyer for me TO hire.

Do your research before coming at me sideways with such a lack of empathy. It's obvious you haven't even attempted to scratch the surface or come close to puttong yourself in my shoes. And judging by your "advice" I doubt you experienced something like this before to actually understand the depth of this, let alone have a right to speak on it. Look up anything about stalking awareness sites, facts, real cases, enter some forums and read others stories, etc. and tell me that again. I'm not alone in the law failing me, having a poor financial situation, and having no other option for defense other than to use my voice. I would bet 90 percent of unsolved stalking cases are a result of all three of those things. 3 things many stalking victims have in common and express are "the police won't help", "I can't find a lawyer" or "I can't afford a lawyer". And also, "everyone tells me to 'just' ignore it." And you know what's fucked up about that last bit? Take a look at criminal stalking where the victim was ultimately murdered. They were all being ignored by their peers and the police before they were. All of these factors connects though. Even you messaging me this shit just has ne thinking about the bigger picture. I am convinced that the way people like you react is enabling a stigma, that ultimately impacts the bigger picture and the way the obsolete methods the law uses handles things like this. If most citizens remain unaware, uneducated, and with the "just ignore it" attitude, that reflects on how the law handles things and legal representatives willingness to take on these cases, too. This exact scenario happens all the time, just with different forms of abuse. R*pe, domestic abuse, etc. It's just the same shit different story. It's always "just ignore it" or "well, maybe she shouldn't have..." or "well, she was wearing this.." or "well, maybe she should have -just- left him.." until one day someone gets loud enough or someone gets hurt badly enough and the MEDIA gets loud about it, that everyone gives a fuck. Change doesn't happen until you open the discussion and fucking talk about it. Change doesn't happen until enough people want it to. And I'm telling you right now that stalking laws especially need fucking change right now and saying shit like this is in my opinion, being a direct part of that problem. Do better.

[postnuclearwar]

See this all the time on the internet from Americans at other Americans, the "If you'd actually been paying attention in class you would know about X (typically an atrocity, or even a scientific fact)". One thing I need Americans who often spout this to understand, is that we all didn't receive the same educational experience.

Education varies so wildly in America, one part of it being a funding issue that leaves poorer districts behind with nothing, second part -No Child Left Behind- which ensures learners who aren't prepared for the next grade get pushed along anyway, leaving them more and more lost as they get pushed further and further along, giving us the illiterate teens we see constantly today. Third part of course is the empire that wants its atrocities erased and to be seen as the only "good" country to its citizens, leading to such great hits as "the civil war was about state rights", "Native Americans gave us this land", "the atomic bomb had to be dropped to end WWII", and a personal favorite of my school was to omitt everything past WWI in both World History and U.S. History, you know, because apparently nothing important happened from 1919 to 2005.

And I even haven't scratched the surface of the numerous problems that also lead to a subpar education, such as some states blocking free breakfast and lunch, the constant school shootings, COVID, the destruction of our reading programs (children are currently being taught to read by guessing the words based on the picture provided and having to memorize how words sounds as opposed to sounding them out and learning it naturally that way), banned books, and an education system that straight up doesn't care about the disabled students in its system.

All I'm asking here is that instead of belittling people who don't know these things, we instead rightfully point the blame to the American education system, because that is where change needs to occurr, where our outrage should be focused.

[prove-it-or-lose-it]

Thanks for adding to the conversation! I was just saying to your friend that these are the kind of interactions that I'd like to have and a big reason why I started my blog. This kind of good-faith honest conversation is sorely lacking in the world, in my opinion.

But on to your points. You bring up some good stuff, but there's a number of things I'm going to push back on and I welcome any follow-up you might have if you're willing to continue the discussion.

First of all, I have indeed broken my fair share of the ten commandments and in my understanding one would be hard pressed to find a single person who hasn't gone against at least one of these mandates. Where I think we'll disagree though, is whether we should adopt these rules on the basis that they come from a supreme being that makes them so. In order to accept that these commandments are worthy of adhering to, I'd have to first accept that there is a god and that this is how it wants me to behave. In the absence of sufficient evidence for any god, my morality comes from elsewhere and allows for nuance and can change when and if I receive new information that would affect it.

That actually brings me to your next point; god is just. My morality has determined that a lot of things either commanded by or directly done by the god described in the Bible are the opposite of just. I think we'd both agree that slavery, for example, is immoral and repugnant, but there are multiple passages in the Bible that condone it as a direct commandment from god. I can't reconcile things like that with a picture of a deity that is loving and just. And in the case of punishment for transgressions, I think those described by the Bible are disproportionate and cruel to the point where you're no longer talking about justice but rather vengeance.

We could talk all day about morality and never even scratch the surface of how complex the topic really is, but what it all hinges on is that I cannot accept the authority of a being I have no evidence for. Couple that with the fact that there are many proposed gods who all have their own particular demands of us, that I don't have any way of knowing which of them (if any) could possibly be correct. I have no choice but to draw my morality from a different, more evidence-based standpoint.

As for Jesus and his sacrifice, I again have to say that I don't have evidence that this was the true reason for his death, or that it resulted in my potential salvation. Where I transgress upon the autonomy of another person with my actions, I do my best to make amends with that person and I lack any good reason to believe that it's necessary to square that away with an unseen observer who judges me based on what I do on earth, given that there's no demonstration that there's any observer there.

One thing I really have trouble understanding is why there needed to be a sacrifice to begin with. From my point of view, the whole story goes that god made a universe that he could have made any way he wanted to, but he built all kinds of flaws into us that he knew were there. He also knew that he was going to punish us for those flaws, knew that many of us wouldn't find the available evidence for him sufficient to warrant belief. Then he sent Christ who is effectively god incarnate, made flesh (I hope I'm not mistaken in thinking that you view him more like I did when I was in the church, feel free to correct me) so that he could sacrifice himself to himself to create a loophole in the rules that he himself made and thus we can be saved. This is not consistent with a creator that is claimed to be all powerful, all knowing, all loving or otherwise perfect. I don't even think it makes sense that a perfect being could create something that is obviously flawed, yet I'm sure we'd both agree that the picture of the world we see has many flaws.

I'll touch briefly on your note about the resurrection, but honestly I'm still going to have the same troubles with that as I've stated before and I don't really want to keep making the same point. I still don't see that a resurrection is evidenced by what the disciples did afterwards. Neither of us believe in scientology, I'm sure, but Hubbard was able to spawn a gigantic movement built on ideas that neither of us would credit as true. Do you see how I'm failing to track that the growth of a movement necessitates that its tenets are true, given that example? What you're describing there with the Messiah prophecy and how events unfolded is entirely consistent with what we've seen in many instances of modern failed prophecies, which amounts to post hoc rationalizations when events don't go as expected. If I look at what people in the Jewish faith proclaim about the prophecy not being fulfilled, and then at the Christian claim that the prophecy has been fulfilled, who am I to trust given that they are on equally weak evidentiary foundations? I don't have enough evidence to draw any conclusion here, so I can't say that I'm convinced of either one. This is further complicated when I start to consider the claims made by Islam. They're all starting at similar points but then branch out into wildly different stories, each with their own demands on my behavior with little evidence supporting them.

I'm afraid I've rambled on at length, and I could go on longer. It's a complicated topic, and we're not likely to convince one another to change our minds, but I do appreciate this discussion. Thanks for engaging honestly and being willing to share your views with me! Even though we don't agree I'm glad for the chance to bounce these ideas back and forth.

"you are enough" no. no we are not. none of us are enough. we are only enough by God's grace. Christ died for us, and considered us worth it, though. while we were yet sinners he died for us! he didn't wait until we were perfect to die for us. he made us perfect by dying for us. we're not enough, he makes us enough.

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Mirror, mirror on the wall" - Keoghan!Joker x Detective!Reader

[TW: scars, mentions of past abuse]

🫀REQUESTS ARE OPEN🫀

SUMMARY: A scar is not equal to another scar. Despite that, survivors are pretty much the same. Joker meets a detective who's not so easy to impress or intimidate.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.6k

A/N: got inspired by playing 'Still Life' for the hundredth time. Old game but still great and highly replayable.

Gordon wasn't one to joke around, especially when it came to the life and safety of Gotham and its citizens. Still, you couldn't believe he was absolutely serious:

"Look as much as I hate to say it if there’s someone who can get some sense out of that madman, it’s you," Gordon confessed.

He's been at this for the entire week, no matter what excuse you gave him. Normally, he would be a lot more civil and drop the subject the moment you said "no" for the first time but, unfortunately for you, he was a little too desperate. You knew he simply cared and felt like there was nothing else he could do to push the investigation forward. It was that uncharacteristic pushiness that made you question your own will - if there truly was no one else and Gordon was crumbling feeling powerless, maybe you could take a leap out of your comfort zone and into the deep, dark chasm of uncharted trauma.

"Why me, Gordon?" you asked in a weak voice. Truthfully, you weren't sure why you were even asking him that question - you knew perfectly well why.

"You've been through shit, detective. Shit I can't put into words. You got a good look into a psycho's mind and came out alive. You survived history's worst and that changes people."

Elegant euphemisms were one of the reasons Gordon was so good with people. He knew that "change" barely scratched the surface of what happened to you.

"What about your bat partner in crime?"

The officer stood with his hands on his hips. He shook his head slightly before answering you.

"Batman may be good, really damn good but he lacks your self-control. Get him in a room with that guy and he’ll scream and bang on the glass like he did with the Riddler. Maybe even worse. And that ain’t gon’ get us anything useful out of him."

Gordon was right. You knew that, although didn't want to admit it as admitting it would rid you of all of your excuses and you'd have to face and make use of something that murdered a part of you years ago. A scar had to become a medal.

"Alright," you said quietly. Gordon's shoulders momentarily slouched. "I'll try but no promises."

"Good enough for me. Thank you, detective. I know how much this costs you."

"No, you don't, Gordon."

He didn't try to argue or reason. There was no way in which he could relate to your experience - to that dark basement and rusty chains. Although it gnawed at him, that he couldn't offer genuine understanding and sympathy to someone he cared about, Gordon was secretly relieved, even happy, that he was unable to. He saw how those terrifying days changed you, made you into an entirely new person and he lived in fear of what they would have done to him.

You would live a happy life never stepping foot on Arkham Island. The barbed wire, neogothic buildings, unkept gardens - all of that painted a grim picture of an already unwelcoming place. Arkham Asylum looked like Tim Burton's theme park joke was taken too far.

"My condolences, ma'am," the guardian who was leading you said. "Over here, we do everything not to end up in the same room with that freak and you came here willingly."

"Wouldn't call that 'willingly'," you said under your breath. Had Gordon appeared any less desperate or powerless, you wouldn't have agreed.

"Warden Sharp agreed to one hour interview," the guardian continued. He stopped in front of the door to the visiting room, his hand resting on the door handle. "If you need more time, your supervisor gotta send in a query. I know you probably know all the rules but I'm still required to tell you them, so: don't touch the divider, don't provoke him, don't hand out any prohibited objects. The guards are authorized to step in and immediately end the interview should they deem the situation dangerous for either party. Good luck with whatever you have going on, detective."

The guard gave you a sympathetic look and pushed the door open. For some reason, the lighting was outstandingly dim inside the room. While the side where the prisoners sat was bright, the visitors could barely see anything on theirs. Without a hint of anxiety in your step or facial expression, you entered the visiting room.

Once he got to see your outline in the corridor lights, Joker's eyes kept following each of your movements and microexpressions. Even when the bizarre darkness made you disappear for a moment, it felt as if he was still capable of seeing not only you but through you. There was a mischievous yet amused smile on his face. His visual did not terrify you - it no longer could. One simply cannot get scared of clowns after playing statues with the Devil himself.

"I'm a detective with the Gotham Police Department," you said as you sat down and pulled out the file you brought. "We're investigating recent bombings happening throughout the city."

"Sorry, sweetheart, can't remember making anything go ka-byool lately." His handcuffs rattled as he waved his fingers to accentuate his point. Joker's hands were drenched with already dried blood. That sight hit a little too close to home for you but you took a calm, deep breath and didn't let your sudden uneasiness show.

"Maybe not you but one of your old friends possibly had."

You pulled a few papers stuck together with a paperclip out of the police file. Carefully, you slid the small dossier through the small opening in the Plexi divider. It was a very 'train station booking office' design.

At the very top of the papers was a mugshot. The picture presented a heavily tattooed man with a bizarre haircut and a harelip: Cooper, who used to be something akin to an underboss before his boss, Joker, got locked up. Curiously, Cooper seemed to literally vanish off the face of Earth as soon as that happened.

Joker barely spared a glance at the picture when he voiced an opinion with utmost certainty:

"Nah, it's not him."

He pushed the papers back towards you with disinterest. It shouldn't be surprising: he surely knew more about Cooper and his possible associates than the police did. You couldn't tell him anything new.

"What makes you say that?" you asked. Joker only laughed.

"He's an absolute, complete, useless moron. He lacks the, hmm... " he paused looking for the right word while waving his hands, "sophistication for something this big."

"And yet he was your go-to for so many years. How did that work out?"

"Darling, you know what's great about working with idiots?"

"They don't ask questions?"

"Oh, you were so close!" he exclaimed giddily. "They don't question."

Were all antisocial people so nitpicky?

Although the building was old and made of stone, the air inside was very warm. Feeling a little hot, you rolled up the sleeves of your shirt, reluctantly presenting the very thing that made you eligible for that lovely interrogation you were conducting: various burns and scars left from chains digging into your skin. At least once a day you considered getting full sleeve tattoos to cover them up but it wasn't considered exactly professional among higher ranked police force. You didn't need another stigma following you and your career.

"It's you." Joker cackled with mysterious satisfaction. Was he expecting you? Truthfully, it wouldn't be so surprising: your survival made national news and the demimonde, directly connected to your capturing, could only be equally interested. "Please, indulge me, princess peach."

"How about you tell me what you know about the bombings and I'll tell you about what gives me sleepless nights."

"Aw, you're trynna tease me, officer?" His pronunciation of the title was at least mocking. It didn't impress him one bit and neither did the badge. "I don't like teases. They ruin the fun."

"Treat it as a fair exchange. Intel," you pointed at yourself first, "for intel." You pointed at Joker to make your point.

"And what if you're boring, princess peach?" he asked with a whine in his voice. "Who will guarantee my fun time?"

"No one," you answered with a shrug. Although that wicked smile never left his face, you thought that a shadow of viciousness appeared in his eyes. Something about your aloofness was getting to him. "You either play with fire or there's no deal. Just you and your sad little life in your sad little cell. No fun for either of us."

"Risky business, princess peach," he sang to you.

You had to make him cooperate somehow or anyhow. Momentarily, you leaned closer to the Plexi divider. The tip of your nose was nearly touching it. Joker's smile only widened.

"You tell me what I want and I'll tell you everything you want to know," you said quietly. "Every darkest, most fearful memory I have. You want to hear what he did to me and how? How loud I prayed to God to finally kill me? First, you gotta tell me about Cooper and who he could be working with."

Joker was quiet but appeared very cocky in his silence. For a moment he was simply staring at you, his eyes studying your face - he was evidently waiting for something.

"I'm looking forward to our little dates, sweetheart."

It was suspicious to you that between you and Joker, he was the one imprisoned and yet he seemed to be the only one enjoying himself. He wasn't stupid - he knew you needed him more than he needed you. In fact, he probably had figured out that if Gotham's police goes to him for help, you must be in a really hopeless place. Joker was going to milk your little arrangement as much as he could - that you were already certain of.

[all-chickens-are-trans]

first of all, love that you just kinda. graduated your icon to a next level. looks like the inside of my brain.

now

trans ted- whats your timeline headcanon, like major points in the journey and all that

thank you thank you, once i figure out how to make the background a nonbinary pride flag (with my limited skills and apps) it's over for y'all

(no honestly i looked at several pictures of trent for several minutes and then i was like. i can't do it i can't choose another one so i just. upgraded this one 🙈)

second of all, oh lord. that's a tough one. i mentioned before that I started taking notes for a possible trans ted fic, and that's set after the events of s2, maybe even a while later. i think ted doesn't start the process of ~~realizing stuff until after his divorce. I think just like his bi awakening, the gender stuff is something he never really inspected too closely because he was too wrapped up in being michelle's husband, and that meant that both his gender and his sexuality revolved around that. (Being Henry's dad plays a big part on how he conceptualizes his gender, too, I think.)

(this is long af so here's a cut)

I'm gonna project here because of course I do that and say - ted's journey isn't linear. it's not like he has a realization at one point and then starts transitioning and then never looks back. it's more like. there were moments in his life. like when he was in middle school, he definitely grew his hair out at some point, right? little weird kid, obsessed with Queen, of course he did. (I'm not gonna say teenage ted with a mullet because neither me nor the world is ready for that but. i'm also not not saying it.)

And there you have this kid, round-faced and mild-mannered and definitely misunderstood by most of his peers, who also looks up to his father a lot. Of course he does, his father is a kind man, much nicer than most fathers Ted knows, and since Ted has trouble connecting to boys his age, he looks to his father as a role-model for masculinity. And he's like, yeah, I gotta be that, but better. I can make that work, if I just try harder and don't give up. The other boys may not always understand it, but Ted has chosen his path. He's not like these other boys and he doesn't want or need to be. He'll find his own way.

And then there's girls. Ted loves them, I'm sure he does. Especially this one he meets one day, just him and her, the only two people in that big parking lot. He wants to be good for her, the best boyfriend he can be, and later the best husband he can be, and even later the best father to their child he can be. He always goes the extra mile, but he also always feels like he just has to try a little harder. It's never quite enough, but surely, if he'll just does a little more, does it a little better, eventually he'll crack the code. he's happy, most of the time, at least as long as michelle is happy, and henry is happy. and if they're not happy, he'll be whatever they need him to be so they can be happy again. There's no need to think about himself.

Couple's therapy is rough, not only because it's Michelle and her therapist against him (or that's what it feels like at least), but also because for the first time in a long time, Ted is forced to look at himself. He's not allowed to look away. This isn't me saying he never self-reflects - I think he does that a lot actually - but it's very different to actively reflect on what kind of man you've been in your marriage and in your family, and how all the efforts you put in have often been more for your own sake than for the other person's. I think Ted scratches the surface of ~~realizing things there. Because he's been playing this part for so long, and for whom?? for what?? Always trying to be the man everyone needs him to be, but now finding out that's a burden he has placed on himself? Oh, that must hurt. I think it even hurts too much for Ted to dig deeper, to find a truth behind it.

That's later, after the divorce, at Richmond. The thing is this: Ted has been surrounded by men for most of his career, but even for a social butterfly like Ted, the way he connects to Higgins and Beard and Nathan and then Roy is a new thing. Beard as Ted's closest friend for decades might be weird, yes, but he's also way closer to the masculinity you'd expect from someone in sports - a little gruff, no lasting romantic relationships, emotionally unapproachable etc. He's Ted's levels of weird, but they've already been close for probably two decades, so they click on a different level. But with the others, Ted has a wide range of masculinities - Nathan's insecurities and Higgins the family man and the push-over, even Roy with his whole 'tough on the outside, soft on the inside' bit... Ted clearly values their input, respects them and all that, but sometimes, he still seems to set himself apart from them as well.

Now at the same time, i'm not sure there have been many women in Ted's life before Rebecca and Keeley - not that closely, not in the way of friendship and mutual respect. Keeley is one of the first people (maybe the first) at Richmond Ted genuinely connects with, and he's working hard to win over Rebecca, and he always meets them eye to eye.

And then there's the "Lavender" episode. Where Ted desperately tries to be part of Rebecca and Keeley's 'girl talk' in a way that blows my mind. (now we're at the point where tedbecca shippers may start to like me a little less - i'm sorry, friends, this is just my interpretation, i'm not trying to shit on yours or anything 🙈) Because they could have played this a dozen different ways - Ted could have been weirdly jealous of the guy Rebecca is talking to, he could have been uncomfortable from the vibes there. But no, he genuinely just wants to be a part of this kind of friendship, and all episode long, he makes an effort to learn the rules of it and adapt it. He later even applies what he has learned to the diamond dogs (the whole 'sometimes, people just need to talk about a thing and there needs to be no solution'), which i think is SUCH a cool choice. Because of course they could be saying here 'Instead of devaluing femininity, Ted lifts it up and learns from it' - but they go even beyond that. He says he wants to be Keeley multiple times a day AND he lets Rebecca use his hand to try out different nail polishes. He doesn't just play along to learn from it and adapt it for his own needs - no, he enjoys femininity for femininity's sake. Like I said, blows my fucking mind.

And I think somewhere there, somewhere after Nathan leaving when Ted is full of self-doubt, somewhere around the time he starts talking to Doctor Sharon for real - that's when a door opens for him to finally examine his gender.

And it's hard to say where that leads him, but holy shit, the possibilities excite me to no end.