#if i am the only soul fan in existence so be it

[insert-something-funy-here]

PHIGHT OR PHLIGHT

Happy holidays!!! Here's chapter 4!! I might have a special present by christmas for yall if I'm not too busy :)

Hope yall enjoy stinky man crashing out while his rogue robot reconsider his career change!!

Bit of a content warning here: religious ideology and character death, read at your own discretion.

Part 1 || Part 3 || Part 5

Using the power of a god as a battery, how laughable. But this connection could do more than that, it was a direct way of influence. Granted it would be easier to leave him as he is, but where’s the fun in that? Besides, he’d get there eventually, may as well speed up the process and play with the product. Frankly, it doesn’t truly matter either way, alive or not, there’s nothing that can’t be manipulated.

Biograft could feel the air of the room around him, he lies shut down on the workbench as Medkit integrates the eye to power him. He felt the air inside him, his poor cooling system barely keeping it moving. He felt himself fall deeper than his body, he felt something other than himself in his code.

“That man may have created you, carved your mind, but I gift you life, soul.”

When making him, Subspace used hard code. All Biograft had known was the simplicity of set values and fixed data. Outside of that were the servers, all updates and new information being inputted through them. That was all he had to think about, all he could think about. But some loose line of code allowed for something more. But right now, he was still just code.

“ You’ll exist proper thanks to me.”

He could feel something new brewing inside him. Hear the gentle hum of energy flowing through him, replacing the electricity he ran on. He felt him. The Father changing him.

“You could consider yourself one of my children, as I am the one to truly give you existence through a fraction of myself.”

This pushing, crowding, invading of his innermost self. Is it even him thinking?

“I hold all my followers dear, but you? I have high hopes for. You best not disappoint. I have no use for a child which cannot provide back to me.”

Is it him thinking? Or is it this invisible force living through him? He felt the whirrs of his fans, but was it him making them move? He felt a gentle pulse as his new core began to stabilize. Did he have a heartbeat? Or was it just this hidden lord which forced its mimicry. Did he breathe? Or was the air he felt just commanded by some remorseless emperor to move as such?

“Don’t worry, don’t fight, you’ll receive what you wish, just don’t fight it.”

He felt his being expanding, preset values becoming dead weight. Stored data becoming memory-like. Simple intake and analysis becoming learning. As though he were being created, no, birthed for the first time. His limitations being stripped, he could edit his own code. But this came with a weight to it, the burden of a soul always does.

“Now then, what have you to say?”

He could speak whatever he wanted, but knew the response he owed.

“Thank you Father.”

Bigrafts lights turn on, a teal color replacing the orange they were before. The projection on his face now only showing one eye, the other replaced by a cactus flower. He sits up as Medkit watches anxiously. Biograft looks away from him and to himself, opening and closing his hands. Everything had this new depth to it; he felt his joints, his “skin”, the ever so slight warmth from the lights across him, and Medkit’s stare. After a deep breath and clearing his throat, Medkit breaks the silence, “How do you feel?”

Biograft thinks for a moment, realizing how the question doesn’t overwhelm him. He’s feeling a lot, but he’s able to think through it now. “I feel… I feel content. It’s odd, I have so much on my mind, but right now I feel okay.”

Medkit’s expression shifts slightly, showing some relief and a bit of surprise, “Good… that’s good,” he nods, “I should let Scythe know we’re finished.” Biograft nods and watches as medkit leaves. He steps off the workbench and stretches, it’s a familiar sensation, yet it’s different now. He looks down and notices the Blackrock emblem previously on his chest now replaced by that of the Lost Temple. Scythe’s and Medkit’s entrances interrupt him.

“Well lookie here!” Scythe steps in front of him, looking him up and down before putting a hand on his shoulder, “lookin like real family!” She gives a gentle squeeze before letting go and turning to Medkit, “You did a fine job on him. How’s his gear lookin?”

Biograft looks at Scythe confused, knowing what he’s about to ask she answers first, “Well we have to make sure ye distinguishable from the others don’t we? Don’t worry, I’ll teach ya how to use it.”

Medkit goes to one of the counters while Biograft responds, ‘I’m sure I’m capable of learning my own gear-”

Scythe cuts him off as Medkit walks towards the two with Biograft’s new weapon, “Aw but where’s the fun in that, besides you’ll already be with me for the next lil while considerin’ I gotta show you around.” Biograft opted not to respond, recognizing his lack of choice in the matter. He looks at the double-headed spear Medkit hands him, the ends having been taken from his old swords, but they’re now the same teal his lights are. He takes it and steps back in order to spin it a few times, feeling the new weight in his hands. “Havin’ fun?’ He stops as Scythe speaks, “Now, I got one last thing before we get going, you need a name lil guy!”

Biograft looks at her confused, so she continues, “Well we can’t just keep callin' ya Biograft, you’ll get mixed up with the others! So let’s give you a real name-”

Before Scythe gets a chance to continue, Biograft interrupts, “I want Medkit to pick it.”

Scythe chuckles under her breath and the two of them look at Medkit expectantly. Medkit thinks to himself for a moment. Seeing as he should be named after his gear the first word to come to mind was jägerstock; however, that doesn’t run off the tongue particularly well. It’s also known as a hunting staff… “Hunter.”

Biograft, no, Hunter stares at him before nodding, “That is my name now,” he looks at Scythe, “Hunter.”

“Well then, since that’s settled, we oughta get goin,” She walks to the door, motioning for Hunter to follow her, “See ya round ‘Kit.”

Hunter looks at Medkit for a moment, having so much more to say, but only manages to get out, “Bye,” with an implied, ‘for now I hope,’ before leaving. Medkit returns a quick goodbye as Hunter walks through the door.

Being left alone, Medkit reflects. The remaking of Hunter's gear was a familiar process, it reminded him of just how much he missed his old work. Gods, he hated being a doctor. It was such a miserable thing. But he couldn’t just stop. Not when there are people to help. That’s why he lives, isn’t it? That’s why he has the abilities he does. Why his crystal is different from Subspace’s at least.

The two had carved tangible pieces of the Iphinity which solidified into the crystals they used for power. It asked them what they wanted. Subspace said to destroy, Medkit said to help. The equipment they used has long been destroyed and Medkit made sure to take his notes before leaving. It would take Subspace some time to figure out how to repair the machinery missing half the processes for such.

Subspace’s crystal was much better at holding and channeling energy, while Medkits was better for manipulating it. That was how he healed people, simply reversing their wounds. It’s how he’s able to revive them.

It helps people, but he hates it.

He hates it. He hates the panic of being too late. He hates the chance that there may be a day where he cares for those he could save no more than Subspace does his test subjects. He hates that he cares underneath it all. He hates that he knows that day has long been coming. He hates it. He hates it. He hates it.

But what he hates most, is that there are demons he can’t save, because he knows he’s one of them.

A couple days pass, Scythe training Hunter and teaching him the church’s ways. If it weren’t for The Father’s energy keeping him alive, he wouldn’t have followed any of the beliefs they were spoon feeding him. Though, he only took a couple to heart.

He doesn’t need sleep, but finds mild satisfaction in it, so he continues the habit. Today Scythe wakes him, seeming quite excited, “Get up! You got yer first mission today!” He gets up from his bed, leaving the mostly empty room and follows behind Scythe as they walk through the church's halls. “It’s a simple one, we’re gettin’ some gears for a dear patron of the church. It’ll be interesting seeing how ya do against a triple for your first kill, but I think you’ll do fine.”

Confused, he asks, ‘A triple? Please clarify.”

Scythe laughs, “A triple is a demon who’s gear has three main parts, instead of the usual one. They’re rare, ‘bout as rare as healers. Doubles, like me, are still pretty rare, but not as much as them. The one you’ll be goin’ after is named C.G. and wields a saber, rifle, and flag. We’ll be makin’ our way to Thieve’s Den.” Hunter nods, remaining quiet for a few seconds as he takes in the information.

“You said this would be my first kill. That is incorrect, unless you mean in the context of my working for the church.” Scythe stops in front of him and starts laughing.

She turns to face him, “Aw, bless your heart! You really think what you’ve done before counts?”

He looks at her confused, “Why wouldn’t it? Those demons are dead.”

She continues to laugh, Hunter unable to tell if it’s genuine or mockery. She takes a deep breath before staring him down, “Let me ask you somethin’, have you ever felt the weight of a life in your hands?” Before he can respond, she steps closer, “I know you’ve killed, but that wasn’t when you were living, that was when it was all you were meant for. All you were made for, because you were just a machine. Don’t misunderstand, you're still a machine, but you’re alone now. An individual that can think and feel fer itself, bearin’ the burdens of life. You haven’t killed like this.” She takes another step forward, “You have to take now, knowing you can be taken from just the same. You have a life now, you have something- well, someone, to loose. Still think you can kill the same?” Hunter finds himself unable to respond, tense. She grabs his shoulders, “Aw, you’ll be okay, there’ll be consequences if you can’t, but I know you it in you. Besides, family’s here to help, I’ll be watching your first couple missions, so don’t worry about anythin’ goin’ too wrong, alright?” Hunter hesitantly nods. Scythe lightly pats his shoulders before stepping away and the two of them leave the church.

“DAMN IT” Sucpace yells while throwing various supplies off one of his lab tables, glass shattering and various substances sprawling out on the floor. Hyperlaser observes his tantrum from afar. He had come to ask about the sudden drop in security, but found this instead.

“What the hell happened?” Whatever it was was definitely going to mean lots of work for him, so better to just get to the point.

“They got away! They- Medkit and that Biograft, they’re alive and they got away!” Subspace’s voice chokes up as he starts a coughing fit.

“A Biograft? Really?” That would explain the current state of things, but it was still hard to believe. Still not fully understanding, Hyperlaser asks a bit more forcefully, “What happened.”

Clearing his throat, “I had him cornered. Biograft was supposed to help, I had him. Medkit was right there in front of me, and that corrupted Biograft punched me off! Medkit’s bullet took a chunk of my side!” He motions dramatically to the injury. “Then they ran off!” he grips the table, about ready to throw it like he did with all the supplies which previously rested on it. “He took it! He broke him! He-”

Hyperlaser cuts him off before he could get too absorbed in his rant, “I assume you want me to retrieve him?”

Subspace pauses for a moment before grinning under his mask, seemingly a bit calmer, “No, no it’s fine, I’ll get back at him! I’ll just go back to the plan I had before! It’ll be perfect! I’ll take from him like he did to me!” As Subspace starts to laugh to himself, Hyperlazer decides that it’d be smart to leave. Subspace, not really noticing or caring about his exit, brings out an older set of files and starts writing on a nearby whiteboard.

All he has to do is kill Sword! That’s all! He’ll kill him, figure out some way of animating his corpse, and use him to get to dear ol’ Meddy! And once Meddy is dealt with, fixing that rogue robot is next on the list. How dare Medkit corrupt his son. There’s nothing wrong with Biograft, all his inventions are as flawless as he is! This one just needs some… correcting! With Meddy out of the way, it’ll be easy! But first things first, that son of a sword.

He arrives in a desolate grassland. There’s only one person other than him and Scythe. That’s the target, just a quick kill, then he’s done.

He arrives at a house. There’s only one demon inside. A Slow and painful death is what he deserves.

Hunter quietly approaches them, weapon ready in his hands.

Subspace begins flooding Sword’s house with a newer variation of his usual poison gas.

They stand and turn to face Hunter. They remain in a cold silence, waiting for the other to make a first move.

The Home’s air is suddenly chilling, but it takes Sword a while to notice something’s wrong. He hears his front door open and stands up. He sways and almost almost falls over going to see who just came in. He can't see much more than a tall figure, but there’s only one person who would walk into his home unannounced like this.

It’s hard to tell who swung first, but it didn’t matter considering neither of their attacks were hitting. Hunter still being unused to his weapon put him at a disadvantage. The demon he was fighting was weak, but knew how to use their gear in ways that made up for it. All it took to get them on the ground was a slight misstep and a smart calculation.

“Dad?”

“Go on, just make it quick.”

A sharp pain in his gut followed by laughter and a distorted voice, “Oh dear child, is that who the poison made you see?” he asks mockingly before continuing to laugh. He pulls the weapon out of him, watching as Sword falls to the ground. He says, “You both deserve this.” before stabbing him once again.

Hunter was caught off guard by the sudden surrender. The fight was a difficult one, but they were fighting. Perhaps there was something more he was missing, but he had to focus and get this over with.

As Sword lays bleeding out before him the air starts to feel tense, and not because of his poison. Without warning Subspace is suddenly thrown into a wall, it almost breaking from the impact. He coughs and takes a moment to regain himself before looking forward and seeing someone holding Sword.

And with one swift movement, it was.

They were gone.

They were gone, lying still, resting.

Scythe steps forward as Hunter stares at the body before him. For the first time since having the ability to feel, he felt nothing. Blank and void. Or perhaps he was feeling so much he just couldn’t feel it. Regardless, he was numb. Trapped. Scythe Picks up one of the gears, “Aw look, baby’s first kill!” She’s about to congratulate him, but without warning a familiar red rope wraps around him and steals him away. ‘SFoTH Damnit!” she huffs, picking up the gears and chasing after Hunter and his captor.

The rope around Hunter lets go as he finds himself next to Katana. ‘So you are the Biograft he mentioned.”

Hunter had questions, but they both knew it wasn’t long before Scythe found them, “My name is Hunter. Who told you about me?”

Katana sighed, “Hyperlaser.” Before Hunter asked anything more he asked, “Why? Why do you join them? They are corrupt. You are a hatchling young and blind. They are clipping you of wings you have yet to grow.”

“For someone I care about.” Biograft stands, readying his weapon.

A few moments pass, Katana processing his words, “I see. Then I shall cut you down as I would any of them.” He begins charging his weapon. Before either can move, Scythe steps in.

“Well, well, well, been a while hasn’t it?” Scythe smiles at Katana.

“Far too long. I'll see to it that your head is permanently severed from your body." He grimaces under his mask.

She chuckles "How violent! It's funny how some things never change." Scythe turns to Hunter, “We’ll leave for now, don’t need to drag the newbie into this! C’mon.” Scythe turns invisible, Hunter copies.

“Your corruption truly knows no bounds,” is the last thing they hear from Katana as they escape back to the church.

This was not good, not in the slightest. Sword was dead yes, but now his father was beating Subspace to a pulp. Venomshank knew he would outlive Sword, he always knew that. Relationships of any kind between gods and mortals never ended happily. But this wasn’t how Sword was supposed to die. This wasn’t when Sword was supposed to die. That boy had so much potential, and was such a kind soul, only to die like this. Venomshank should’ve been faster, he should’ve dropped what he was doing the second something felt off, should’ve trained him better, should’ve spent more time with him, should’ve… Should’ve better shown his care. Showed his love. Showed how Sword is and always will be a part of him. He should’ve actually followed through on his duty and promise to always be there for him.

But he’s already gone. The cause of his death almost gone too. Though Subspace is laying on the ground, coughing and wheezing, something’s wrong. He’s going to do something, but what?

It’s well known that when two phighters sacrifice their gear to the spawn, they obtain a biological child. The SFoTH deities being the exception. So what if one sacrificed their gear to god? A gear is attached to one’s soul, there’s plenty of worth in it. But is it enough for a blessing? Subspace had gone over the possibilities before, it was likely nothing would happen, especially considering the decay starting to corrupt his gear, but what else was there to do? He wasn’t going to just lie there and accept death, he was supposed to be making others do that! So in a last ditch effort, he calls to the only god he thought would respond and offers himself.

“ILLUMINA!!”

[if-you-soul]

i wanted to write a post about how soul is such a victim of character assassination in this fandom but for now im just going to post this

is an animal that lashes out when cornered evil? after all, a snarl of either sort looks the same

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Ngl it's weird finishing the Knuckles tv show and going to tumblr about it only for people (even who I consider bigger name fans) who also watched the entire show to claim that it "confirmed Knuckles Wachowski"

Like

I'm sorry

Did you somehow miss the part in the last episode where Knuckles had a whole montage of hanging with the Whipple family and Wade and saying "home" or something?

[iceunhie]

art of the fan!

premise: wherein jiaoqiu’s fan does half the work and reaps twice the effect.

warnings: gn!reader, 1.4k words, potential jiaoqiu ooc, written before his release. use of petnames and suffixes. please read the terminology guide below to understand their use in the plot, very ‘walk him like a dog’ core, though in this case fox would be more appropriate, haha.

a/n: guess who’s back with a oneshot (⁠ ⁠；⁠∀⁠；⁠) here is my humble offering to the jiaoqiu nation, i did my best

jiaoqiu—for some reason—has made it his life’s mission to perpetually get under your skin.

recently, he has employed shady methods, most particularly instilling almost unfair use of his fan in order to get away with things he normally can't, poking at the strings in your heart like how a stick hits a hornet’s nest.

“yi sheng, is there a purpose for this?” you exclaim, with the foxian man sighing in faux disappointment. the sarcastic way of addressing his title does make his face spasm—but unfortunately for you, today, it seems it does little to dampen his mischief.

you are in the humiliating position of being in the sly man’s lap; aggrieved that your current predicament warrants unfair treatment that borders on harassment (an exaggeration, jiaoqiu has never been improper to that extent).

not to mention, his fan is aimed at your chin, making you look up at him while he applies ointment to a rather nasty bruise around your lip, with the gall to hum as he does so.

“ah, ah. don't move.” he holds the feathered fan under your chin, eyes ever closed while a placid smile graces his face, retaining his signature cunning. jiaoqiu has lost his mind. you keep to yourself, ignoring the heat in your cheeks that had made an appearance since earlier—because why else would he do this? (and why in the name of aeons would you let him? something must be wrong with your brain today.) “if you do not let me do this, that unsightly bruise might fester, you know.”

“you’re too close.”

“well, you were too far.”

“i am sitting on your lap, yi sheng. how close do you want us to be?” you roll your eyes, earning jiaoqiu a poke at your face, followed by his hand squishing at the fat on your cheeks. “hey, lwet goh of me…”

“still with the formalities... surely now you can address me by my name, can you?” jiaoqiu coaxes, like saying it might wash away all the fatigue in the world, because every inch of his being, from the tips of his ears to the veins in his heart and the wisps of his soul, his yearning and pining echoes and resounds in the cavity of his chest that holds only you, you, you.

what, jiaoqiu wonders, would it take for him to be the sole beholder of your brilliance? his hands holding yours, gripping faithfully and unfalteringly, your fates bound by knots; crimson in nature, entwined forevermore? his eyes soften because of course they do—for you mold him into a being devoted to commemorating your existence into his flesh, your voice settling in the marrow of his bones.

you falter, your heartbeat loud. jiaoqiu notices. of course he does. “yi sheng—”

“jiaoqiu.”

“yi—”

“qiu-er.”

“....” he can hear your heart thundering in your chest—thump, thump—and it has never occurred to him to praise his foxian senses until now. his smile widens, a fang poking out with the white of his teeth. “i'm waiting, baobei.” your face glows with warmth, and jiaoqiu fights the urge to swallow you up whole right then and there.

(he resists it often when it comes to you.)

“you’re so stubborn!” you say after much deliberation, rejection flat and heavy. jiaoqiu deflates, just a bit, and petulantly rubs ointment on the other bruises littering your face. (his ears show his displeasure, drooping down, comically flat against his head.)

“hmph. and you’re too stingy.”

“all the more reason not to, then!”

still not enough, huh? jiaoqiu wonders if he'll ever get you to crack; if you'll ever mirror the expression of his adoration—swishing tail and perked up ears aside. still, his touch is gentle, like the embers of a fire hugging you for warmth, a blazing sensation in which all the greed in the world falls short compared to his need to touch you, to perceive you. “will i ever hear my name on your lips? you seem to have no issue addressing others so casually.”

“and who exactly are these others?” you raise a brow at him. jiaoqiu shrugs, nonchalant. as though it didn't bother him (he's seething).

you note that he speaks with contempt, bitterness filtering his soft-spoken words. his tail wags rapidly. pfft, so… so childish! (and a little cute, but you don't say it for obvious reasons.)

“well, for starters, the madam general, the dozing general, yunli, the herbalists near the red fox theater, the stair sweepers....”

“wait, wait, that's too many! and the stair sweepers, really?!”

“i’ll avoid answering further questions.”

“you look like you've swallowed vinegar, laoshi.” you croon, biting where you can at the weakened fox you've made, defiantly lowering your chin still held captive by jiaoqiu’s fan. “besides, i merely do it to cut all at one stroke. after all, it is you, yi sheng—” you relish in jiaoqiu’s expression when you get eerily close, noses almost touching, “that insisted i ought to call you by that title, did you not? who knew you were so easy to displease.”

his face constricts, and his hands lower, one hand gripping firm at your waist, and jiaoqiu reels away from you, hiding his face behind his fan as his cheeks tint themselves scarlet. his pride would not allow him to refute, and you knew that very well. “that...”

because you know him. know his ticks, his tells—jiaoqiu does not know if that is love. but his willingness to drop his guard, to let you slip by his foxy exterior—to allow you to burrow and fuse yourself into the tapestry of his being, that of which the fibers of his soul accept and wholeheartedly make room for you; constricting his breath, perceiving you. (he doesn't know if you're in love with him yet, but he is. maybe he always will be.)

your lips quirk up instead, the apples of your cheeks forming while smile lines grace your features, that of which he cannot look away from, cannot close his eyes from; for what use is closing one’s eyes when his sight was granted to him to behold you?

jiaoqiu’s saving grace is that you were kinder for your own good. if he could keep that kindness to himself, then….

“as expected, it's so weird when you're silent,” you laugh, and jiaoqiu’s stare rushes to behold you, the echo of your joy forming his heart anew. “jiaoqiu. there, you petulant fox. happy now?”

and the way he looks at you—his pupils expanding, eyes wide, jiaoqiu loves. the entire universe could crumble and turn to ashes this instant, and he would not look away.

“...i’m not.” you look at him with playful scorn. really, after all this trouble, your eyes seem to say. he chuckles dryly, forcing himself to laugh, because jiaoqiu wants to keep this euphoria and let it sink into his ears, his lungs and his brain. he wants to bottle the sound of your voice forming his name and setting his body ablaze like golden starlight in a place no one can hear but him.

“not what?” facing you, holding you, he can't even begin to breathe. jiaoqiu thinks this might be love, sprouting from his eyes and filling the corners of his veins, circulating fully, wholly, and utterly.

“i’m not happy at all.” he speaks your name like the growing embers of a wildfire, burning his throat and letting jiaoqiu dare to perceive you. “it’s lacking. it will always be lacking.”

and because you were you, you know exactly where to fan the flames. “ever the cunning one, aren't you, qiu-er?”

jiaoqiu thinks it's time you had enough of your fun. again, he's never had reason to praise his senses—but when he hears the deafening beats that increase as he looks at you even more—he thinks that maybe being a foxian is a decision fate was wise in undertaking.

he dips his head low, and before you can question why his fan covered your faces, a soft sensation floods your senses, warming you to the core when you feel the plush of his lips on yours. you feel his smile against your mouth, and the teasing bite down your lower lip makes your eyes turn to saucers.

this sly fox…!

pulling away, jiaoqiu hides his face behind his fan again, almost gloating when he takes in your aghast expression. “well, it's not so lacking anymore, i suppose.”

you glare. “that ointment of yours is useless now that you've kissed it away, you know.”

jiaoqiu brings the hand by your side to his lips, kissing your knuckles, devoting himself to every atom that comprises you, every cell that unravels and ties itself to create you; and he’ll adore you, chasing and basking in the warm daylight you bestow him.

“i can always kiss it better, anyway.” he ruffles your hair, the smile in his eyes mischievous and utterly unfair, because it's sincere, and blinding ....and jiaoqiu is already uncaring of the rapid wag of his tail. “didn’t you say it yourself? i am cunning, after all.”

BONUS: how to tame a foxian in one go!

“baobei, you certainly know how to leave someone breathless.”

“don’t follow me.”

“you’re not denying it though.”

“qiu’er, you’ll be demoted back to yi sheng.”

“huh?! thats cruel! wait, i said i’m sorry—!”

— terminology guide.

· [ 事半功倍 / half the work, twice the effect ] — (an idiom) the right approach leads to the desired/better results; jiaoqiu wanted reader to call him by his name affectionately, and the right ‘approach’ refers to making use of both the fan and the opportunity to kiss reader (which he got and more with minimal effort)

· [ 一刀切 / to cut all at one stroke ] — (idiom) one solution or ‘one size fits all’, reference to how reader doesn't want to refer to jiaoqiu as his name nor do they want to be mistaken to be in a relationship with him (playfully), so they refer to him as yi sheng ( 医生 ) so people don't get confused and see how jiaoqiu absolutely hates it (menace)

other: bao bei ‹ 宝贝 | baby/babe › , -er ‹ friendly and affectionate suffix often used in a teasing way › , yi sheng ‹ 医生 | doctor › laoshi ‹ 老师/老師 | teacher, used often in a certain part of china. used formally for instructors and teachers* ›

*as for why reader refers to jiaoqiu as laoshi aka teacher, jiaoqiu is a counselor (based on given canon information) and they use it to rile him up (since they use it sarcastically—because jiaoqiu was basically ordering them/instructing them to stay still while treating them ^^; hope this makes sense !

tidbit note: when reader says ‘consumed vinegar’ it is a funny way to show that he's jealous, because vinegar is sour (just like jiaoqiu's mood!)

note: hello! i apologize for being so late and so inconsistent with my posts, life has been busy lately with my job. as recompense, have a oneshot… lol. also, this fic wouldn't have happened without the lovely consultation of my friend and mootie @lowkeyren who helped me with making sure i was using the appropriate terms of affectionate address for reader and jiaoqiu, haha. can you tell i loved playing around with his character? even though he isn't out yet TT personally, i think i quite like the dynamic between reader and jiaoqiu; although this may be ooc in some point in time. he just gives off the vibe of a teasing smug bastard… who is a pathetic mess for his lover. or is it just me?? well, who knows…

@ ICEUNHIE: do not plagiarize, repost or steal my work.

[houpss]

SKZ have a crush on you

you can come up with the ending yourself...whether the reader will be with the member or not is up to you!

light angst, a little fluff, uncertain relationship

Bang Chan

oh...this man talks about his feelings openly and without fear.

He literally phrases: "I'll steal and fuck your girlfriend while you're not looking."

He has a huge amount of female and male attention, but...

But it doesn't work out that way with you...

You were out of his reach.

You were too beautiful, too sweet, too good...he wasn't like that.

Chris is the one who will call you his muse and write romantic songs for you, some of which have been published.

His love is manifested in acts of care, he is always there, he is more tactile with you than with others.

He will give you whatever you want, just ask.

Chan has 8 members so he is like a dad...he protects and cares for them

And he also wants to take care of you.

He wants to love you openly.

But you didn’t notice his feelings.

Although...you loved Chris. Literally loved to the moon and back.

For some reason, it seemed to you that Chris only saw you as a friend or family member, just like his Members.

Yeah...close friends....

He will say exactly the same phrase to you:

"You came..."–"You called"

It seems you are both fools.

Maybe he's too soft with you? Maybe he needs to leave?

He won't be able to give up on you.

I will kill myself, I will destroy my soul, but I will be with you.

But i'll wait for you

I love you to the moon and back

기��려 여기 me and max

서운해해도 don't be mad

너한텐 할 수 없는 game (Bloo-But i'll wait for you)

Lee Know

How could Minho let this happen?

Lee Minho was head over heels in love with you.

No one has seen his loving eyes, no one has ever felt his gentle touch.

How did he allow himself to fall in love with you?

This is a completely crazy idea, he didn’t love to love.

But you turn his world upside down, he is literally lost in you.

You clearly feel like Minho hates you.

Minho is like cold winter, he is like snowy weather, he looks like frosty weather.

And you were in summer, you're complete opposites.

But even after the coldest winter, love comes.

He calls you the most beautiful adjectives, it’s like he’s trying to silently scream about his feelings.

He speaks directly and harshly, he loves the truth straight forward.

"And you will be obsessed with me, I will be everywhere: I will be in your favorite songs, I will be between the lines of books, I will be in every passerby... I am your addiction"

Lee Minho couldn't fall in love, but he wanted to love.

All the pretty stars shine for you, my love

Am I the girl that you dream of? (Lana Del Rey–Pretty when you cry)

Seo Changbin

He loved and hated you at the same time.

Oh.. Seo Changbin can hate?

Yes, he did it with you. He loved you so much that he hated you for it.

You were everywhere, you were ingrained in his existence and mind.

He was very sweet and friendly and loved people.

It didn’t work out that way with you, it was as if he deliberately didn’t want to have much contact with you.

He loved you silently, probably without asking for anything in return.

Before he even notices, he begins to pay attention to you... be it small acts of attention or dialogues with you.

"You can take Changbin out of first love, but not first love out of Changbin."

Again, it was like you were different, you weren’t like anyone else. He noticed you immediately when he met you.

He seems upset that you will never be his.

Oh...the boy is gloomy. The boy looks like a thunderstorm.

Conquer your lonely heart, get used to the emptiness.

When you ran your fingers over your lips

I bought it from glossy magazines

Everything you asked for and even what you didn’t ask for

How can you be so terribly beautiful? (Rocky-WITCH)

Hwang Hyunjin

Oh yes, you and Hyunjin have been friends since childhood.

It even got to the point that you are idols in the same agency. No wonder Hyunjin adores you, he's obsessed.

Fans loved your interactions, they were sure there was something between you and Hyunjin.

Hyunjin wants to get into your soul, he wants to take your heart into his cold hands.

You were the forbidden fruit, and forbidden fruit is always sweet.

It’s as if you’re chasing him, you’re everywhere, he feels you everywhere.

But you're just his friend, his sweet best friend.

It was normal for you to peck Hyunjin on the lips, naturally in private or during greetings (while no one was looking). Hyunjin feels addicted.

You are worse than drugs, you cause an addictive effect. You are his absolute delight.

The boy will paint your portraits, he will exalt you like a goddess.

So why do you only see him as a friend?

Hwang Hyunjin doesn't deserve to be your friend, he wants to be your boyfriend.

The boy loves to hurt himself, he loves hardcore. He loves pain and whines a lot.

He just replaces you with pain, it helps.

Touch me, yeah

I want you to touch me there

Make me feel like I am breathing

Feel like I am human (The neighbourhood–A little death)

Han Jisung

You never paid attention to Jisung.

But Jisung was so loud and cheerful that he started to annoy you.

Jisung did this on purpose, he liked you.

The boy will notice you immediately, you immediately fell into his soul. So cold and inaccessible.

He wants to melt the ice on your heart, he wants to become your sun.

Every day he fell more in love with you, the cold intensifying his desire.

“Your love is addictive” – your words

He is very kind and cheerful with you, he is so easy to talk to.

He won't give up to get you. Even when you send him the rudest obscenities

I'm your boy.

He will sing to you, and you will ask him to shut up. You secretly love it, his voice is so beautiful.

But you should hate Han Jisung because it's the right thing to do.

You would get closer to him, but...

No.

"Is it fashionable to jerk off to him?"

"hit of the season"

Lee Felix

It was impossible not to fall in love with Felix.

everyone loves Felix!

And he loves you.

This sunny boy literally drowned in his love for you, it completely absorbed him and did not allow other feelings to pass through.

But you don't seem to notice him.

Felix dreamed about you, you are in his thoughts. The first thought in the morning, a relieving thought when he is busy and the last thought before going to bed.

He's trying to get as close to you as possible

He will become your best friend.

Felix is too good, he is an angel in a human body.

The world is not worthy of Felix, so why did he love you?

Every day, like a painful melody, this unrequited love sounded in his heart. He experienced all emotions - from boundless happiness to deep sadness - alone

He couldn't imagine life without you

If you leave, there will be no point in living.

He writes you poems, he gives you the most expensive gifts, he just wants you to love him. Love him at least a little.

Perhaps his efforts will remain irretrievably lost in time. But one thing is certain: he will continue to love you, deeply and truly, even if he never hears your answer.

Come on scratch my back

So as to reach the heart

Both you and I want this (ЩЕНКИ–dirt)

Kim Seungmin

It's like he's afraid to get close to you.

On the contrary, he moves away. Every day it gets stronger, he loves you so much and doesn’t want to see you so much.

Seungmin took this step not because of a lack of love; in fact, on the contrary, he was struck by this love.

In every breath you took, every word you said, he found the perfect embodiment of his dreams. You were his sun, his muse, his everything.

But he knew he couldn't be with you. He saw how disappointed you were in your past love, how your trust and heart were damaged. He couldn't afford to repeat the same mistake. He couldn't risk their relationship knowing that the end could only be pain and disappointment.

It hurts so much to give up on someone you love.

He deserved happiness, he deserved love, but he couldn't have it with you.

He didn't want to ruin your life or be the source of your pain.

He will go away and it will be easier for everyone.

He will disappear from your life as suddenly as he appeared.

He will never forget you, he will never stop loving you. But he knows that sometimes the best decision is to let go of the one you love. This is exactly what he did because to him, your happiness was much more important than his own.

He looks at the dawn and remembers you.

Your nose is covered in cocaine, you can barely stand

I am the secret that you cannot hide

I think about you too much (Pharaoh-unplugged 2)

Yang Jeongin

You are his first love.

He sees a future with you, he sees stars in you.

It was the first time he felt such strong feelings for someone.

Oh, he is just learning about love, but it can hurt or beat sometimes. Love can completely break the psyche.

But he doesn't care as long as you exist.

Jeongin will turn to the Hyuns for advice. how to get your attention and make you fall in love.

He will be so romantic...he will be so gentle with you.

He is afraid to do something wrong so as not to scare you away

He will be a gentleman and will wait for the moment until you fall in love, he will do everything for this!

He will wait for you all his life if necessary, but I am sure that you will fall in love faster.

“He replaced my home, love and friends. He is my everything.”

Jeongin is like warm weather, everyone is waiting for him and wants him.

Feeling so lonely, 'cause it's not enough

Missin' you only ever since we fell in love (Ciggarets after sex–Touch)

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Hiiii!!!! Uuhh sorry I get a bit awkward to approach new people but oh my god I needed to say that I absolutely love your work!! Im truly a fan!! Your Fierce Deity fics bring me to life and I cant stop thinking about it <333

Not sure if this idea is interesting enough but I cant stop thinking about it and I thought you could maybe like it!!

I keep thinking about Reader talking with the Fierce Deity's mask (imagining he still sealed in the mask) like he was physically there, just rambling. We could show him the sky and the grass, mundane things, talk about our thoughts and ask questions to him, like what is it like to be a god and if he is happy with his life.

One question that also pops a lot in my mind is asking what gods thought of humans or maybe, what he thought of them, of us!! Ofc he doesnt respond bc he is inside the mask but then one day he is off of it and he remembers each and every question we ever asked, and is willing to answer them all NFKENFKWFKWKKFKWKDKW

Its just an idea, you dont really have to do it, but everytime I think about it or Fierce in general, I cant help but also think about you <333

Im really glad I found your work!! I hope we can be friends!! :DDD

I wish you a lovely day my little leaf!! Toodlessss 🍃🍃🍃

𖠰 Woods 𖠰

Okay first of all, this idea this absolutely amazing!! I'll have you know I was practically VIBRATING with excitement while reading this! You have no idea how stoked I am to receive asks like this, so do not feel bad at all for sharing! Also what we're literally already besties <3

Man In The Mask

Pairing: Fierce Deity x Reader

Warning(s): N/A

Masterlist

What are you?

It was a question the Fierce Deity had heard a thousand times, often accompanied by blood and blaze: a question of those he protected... and those he did not, whispered on the heels crimson-dripped lips and frightful eyes. He was a god of war, and thus not one to engage in the folly of mortals. Orders were his foundation, and steel his soul, wrapped in a righteous evil that not even the goddesses could bear to gaze upon.

Which is why he felt nothing short of hedonistic when it fell from the lips of the paltry mortal's holding the wretched mask that trapped him centuries earlier. Voice soft and eyes softer, touch featherlight on the chipped edges of his prison. There were thumbs on the apples of his 'cheeks', and the deity was caught between rage and sorrow. Tumultuous emotions were not his strong suit, and neither was restraint, from the way things were looking.

He didn't need to stand before them to feel their weakness, as was typical of most humans, but there was an ember in your eyes that seemed to burn with a light he didn't dare remember, shining like a beacon in the night.

"I wonder who painted you," the human, you, mused, stroking again over the half-glossed finish of the mask. Gentle, comforting, and utterly indecipherable to the deity inside. "You're so dusty; did Time even polish you?"

Why... Why was that relevant? Never in his wildest thoughts had the Fierce Deity expected Time to intrust his 'care' to a human, much less you. His very existence was a burden; how could a so-called hero willingly place something so... so destructive in the hands of, well, he considered you quite innocent to the tribulations of war and bloodshed and sorrow.

But what could he do but wait, snug under your arm, as you prattled on about anything and everything. The notion that you were naive enough to talk to a mere mask, of all things. Had you no sense? No discretion? It was a question he often asked himself, though only because there was no one else to answer.

That didn't stop his dull wonderings on whether you would ask such questions if he stood before you in the flesh. Would you cower? Fight? Flee? Perhaps he would remember the words that fell from your mouth, just to prove himself right once again.

***

The Fierce Deity mask weighed heavy in your hands as you plodded down the small path towards home. A thick forest bordered you from the east, while a blooming prairie stretched as far as the eye could see from the west. There was no doubt in your mind that you were incredibly lucky to live where you did, a fact that was only exemplified by the nine heroes that had crashed into your life (and living room) through a portal that looked straight out of Coraline or some shit.

Never in a million years would you have expected Time, the distrustful forest child he was, to entrust anything to you, much less a mask that supposedly held the spirit of one of the greatest entities of his world, but you supposed it was only proof that miracles did still exist. Maybe.

Either way, you had taken up the mantle of caring for the mask, and there was no way in hell you were going to screw up. Not that Time would let you, the worrywart, and you were only just beginning to catch him not staring holes into your back.

Chronic mother hens aside, it didn't take a genius to figure out there was something terribly wrong with the item tucked under your arm. Whether it was the crimson and navy facial markings or innocuous radiation of something akin to evil, you had no doubt that Time's warnings were not in jest.

Despite this, you couldn't quite shake the idea of a soul being trapped inside, well, the mask was practically a prison at this point. And maybe, just maybe, you felt a modicum of guilt at the entity's fate. Had he deserved it? Perhaps. Was it cruel? Without a doubt.

Which is why you found yourself taking the Fierce Deity's mask with you when you went to the store, or the library, or simply for a walk in the forest, tucked in your satchel to protect from prying eyes, though you always adjusted the cover so at least one of the eyeholes was free to gaze upon the wonders of your world. It was a small mercy that you were willing to afford, one that quickly spiraled into conversation with the mask itself. You always had a habit of speaking out loud, and now you, presumably, had an ear to listen.

But it was all speculation at this point; Time had never outright confirmed whether a living creature resided within the painted oak, only that it was imbued with an evil so ancient it could challenge the goddesses. You had stopped listening at that point, muttering 'drugs' under your breath, but there was always hope in your tone when you reminisced about the world around you.

With a sigh, you stopped, bringing the mask to the forefront of your vision, thumbs instinctually tracing the crimson stripes on the cheeks. It was baffling that something so beautiful could feel so wrong in your hands. You desperately wished to uncover the truth, to breathe in the big reveal and revel in the known mysteries of life.

"What are you?" The words slipped off your tongue like silk, right enough that you could have chalked it up to fate. The mask felt warm, basked in the fading rays of the golden sun, and you had the distinct feeling of being watched. The pads of your thumbs stroked the raised cheeks of the mask, disturbing a thin layer of dust, as more words spilled forth. "You're so dusty; did Time even polish you?"

It felt strange, talking to the mask as if it was a person, but you were too intrigued to care. If an entity truly resided within, you wondered what he thought of you. Was he impressed? Disgusted? Resigned? You had grown up with the belief that if gods truly existed, their disappointment would be without bounds, but that assumption didn't feel accurate when you stared at the shadowed skin of your palms through the eyeholes.

What horrors had a deity of this caliber seen through eyes of oak... and why were you so desperate to find out?

***

The Fierce Deity was convinced you were either crazy or stupid.

Night had fallen some time ago, filling your small quarters with only the pale light of the moon. His prison sat propped against the contraption you called a 'lamp', facing the bed in which you slept. Your nighttime routine was... unusual, to say the least. In his time, maidens wore long shifts to sleep, while here, you had treated him to the ludicrous sight of what could only be described as the shortest britches he had the displeasure of viewing and a sleeveless rag of a tunic that looked as though you wore it to a scuffle with a large animal, not to mention the sheer audacity you had to undress before the mask without regard for decency. Had the Hero of Time not informed you of his status in this wretched prison, because it was as though you had forgotten or simply didn't care at all?

Whatever the case, it was with much dread that the Fierce Deity only found himself more attracted to the mortal cursed with his care. Your life was, at most, mundane, yet you spoke as though every day was a great adventure, in a tone that could have inspired countless scribes into a flurry of activity. More shocking, however, was how he could feel himself clinging to your every word, like a dog waiting for scraps. He had been alone for so long, and the reality that a mere mortal considered him, well, mortal enough to converse with was a reality he never imagined contesting with.

But, despite how thrown off he was, there was a certain comfort in the quiet nights you spent together, however inadvertently they came to be. After a life of isolation, he found a purpose in the steady rise and fall of your chest, in the snorting giggles of your laughter, and the way you flipped the edge of your pack to grant him sight, never mind that he was fully capable of viewing the world without it. It was for that reason that the rage in his battered soul waned a fraction, leaving a sliver of room for whatever this was, and the reason his mind refused to release thoughts of your whispered queries, always centered on him, whether it be his health, status as a deity, or happiness.

Farfetched as it was, the Fierce Deity, god of war and blood and death, waited hours for you to wake, unblinking because he would be damned to miss the very moment of your return to the land of the living, the languid stretch your body performed as you groaned softly, rubbing the creases of your eyes with the same gentleness you treated him to. He would study the outfits you wore, committing them all to memory so he could better understand the core of who he considered to be his savior. Maybe then, when he was free, he could begin to repay your kindness–bit by bit, word by word–until distance became more of a myth that him, and your tender warmth could be validated by more than just a paltry mask. Your very breath became his meaning, your soul his muse, and the Fierce Deity was sure he would never forget it.

But in the meantime, perhaps he would remember the words that fell from your mouth, just to prove you right once again.

I can't begin to express how beautiful this felt to write. The Fierce Deity truly is my muse.

ALSO there will be a part two, so keep your eyes peeled!

[perfectlyoongi]

FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE

ㅤ↬┊synopsis ... you had to write a poem for a class and, when your creativity betrayed you, you decided to ask your boyfriend for help.

ㅤ⚘.fandom ... bts. ㅤㅤಇ.ft. ... yoongi x afab!reader. ㅤ⚘.genre ... one-shot. ㅤㅤಇ.content ... childhood friends & lovers (established relationship), fluff, just the complicity between u and yoongi. ㅤㅤಇ.word count ... 2k. ㅤ⚘.fandom ... ik as much abt writing poetry as ik abt quantum physics so u get no poem shoo shoo !! ps. dont mind the cringe :3 hope u enjoy ♡

“Come on, Yoonie!” you let out a small laugh when Yoongi grimaced as he shook his arm out of your hands. “Help me.”

“So annoying,” Yoongi prolonged the last word in a dramatic cry that made you laugh one last time. “Okay, I’ll help you.”

You quickly sat down on the black sofa in Yoongi's studio, on your lap a small notebook eager to be filled, in your hand a pencil half corroded by your thoughts. Yoongi sat next to you, in his hand a bottle of partially drunk water, in his eyes a sparkle that only appeared when he was with you.

“What do you need to do?”

“The professor asked for a poem and we had to draw the theme out of a hat.”

“And you got…”

“Love.”

Your response was accompanied by a frown on your part.

Since you remembered that you were submerged in a vast ocean of verses and stanzas, all the themes that could exist building little huts in your heart, creating fragments in your soul that would be forever united by your love for writing. And you wanted to know more about this art. You wanted to be able to create like so many others before you. You wanted to give your creativity a purpose and, with Yoongi's encouragement, you joined creative writing classes at your university.

But, as with everything, the dream became more fantastic than reality.

It was part of the challenge and it made you excited, more eager to create. But it was also tiring, spending days and nights pondering words and themes that could very well carry with them empty meanings and silent beauties. You wrote in constant fear of not being interpreted, of not being worthy of interpretation, of creating something too vague to have any value.

Everything was challenging for you, all the poems you had written to date being the result of too many thoughts and too little passion. So, when you got a theme as common and used as love, you only saw a solution to truly create a piece of art – after all, love only existed for you with Yoongi by your side.

“I kinda feel offended by your reaction,” Yoongi forced a frown and you smiled.

“Don’t start, please,” you opened the notebook and took a deep breath. “How am I supposed to start?”

“You can start by…” Yoongi was thoughtful for a moment, involuntarily playing with the bottle in his hands. “Trying to describe what love is to you?”

Your silence was capable of speaking louder than any words you could have said – and that only made Yoongi let out a small laugh.

Adjusting himself on the couch to get closer to you, Yoongi looked at you curiously. You had a serene expression, but your eyes showed that all the threads inside you were trying to interconnect to form a simple description. Leaning his arm against the back of the sofa and holding his head, Yoongi looked at you amused.

“Do you need help?” Yoongi asked cordially, a smile lacing his words, his voice gently echoing through the studio.

“You know I’m terrible with feelings.”

“I’m no better.”

“But you write songs.”

“Because you inspire me!”

You already knew that. Yoongi had already told you countless times that great inspiration for his songs came from you, from the feeling he had for you; but that didn't stop you from reacting, completely embarrassed by your boyfriend's confession.

“Then give me tips!”

“I don't know!” Yoongi opened his arms in a dramatic way, fanning them to emphasize his speech. “I just feel it and the words come and the song gets written.”

You snorted to hide a smile and calmed down again, your back leaning against the sofa, your eyes jumping from the pencil to the blank page.

“And what do you feel?”

Your question hung in the air for a brief moment as Yoongi contemplated your words.

In Yoongi's mind, dozens of words began to appear quickly, constantly running over each other, wanting to be the first to be pronounced. In Yoongi's heart, dozens of emotions began to gently blossom, taking root in Yoongi, assuring his feelings for you.

The pause wasn't long, but for you it was an eternity.

The eagerness for an answer made your heart race. You were looking forward to Yoongi's words, not only to inspire you for your poem, but also to hear once again what you meant to him – it was always good to be reassured.

“At this moment…”

Yoongi's voice was hoarse, deep, gently sung by his delicate lips. The words were steeped in care and serenity. You could feel Yoongi's thoughts in his pronunciation, the way he was precisely selecting each word he spoke bringing a smile to your face.

“At this moment, I feel like a kid again.”

“A kid?” you gently tilted your head – of all the strings of words Yoongi could have said, that wasn't one that had crossed your mind.

“Yes,” Yoongi let out a laugh, nostalgia clinging to every syllable, memories of easier times clouding his studio. “Doesn’t this situation remind you of anything?”

Yoongi continued to look at you in love – there was no other word to describe it. The sparkle in Yoongi's eyes was completed by the genuine smile that slightly curved his sweet lips. Yoongi's words were filled with a gentleness that only existed when he spoke to you, about you.

You pondered Yoongi's words. Your boyfriend's voice echoed in your mind with some care, stretching out the syllables, trying to search your memories for the words you should say. And then you remembered.

“The first grade!”

You spoke happily, memories of your childhood painting nostalgic pictures in your head, vibrant colors of happy moments radiating warmth to your heart.

“The first grade,” Yoongi repeated between small laughs as he adjusted himself on the couch. “We spent our afternoons trying to learn math together.”

“And we were never successful.”

Your laughter settled into two broad, longing, passionate smiles.

���I never told you this…” Yoongi was the first to break the silence that rested in the studio, going back to shuffle on the sofa, playing with the bottle a little more. “But, I think I started to like you at that time.”

Your eyes opened in awe, your boyfriend's confession bringing a little warmth to your heart.

“Come on, Yoonie. We were kids. It’s impossible to like someone that way.”

Accompanied by laughter, your words shaped the atmosphere of the studio into a place of comfort, of safety, of confession.

“I’m serious,” Yoongi placed one of his hands on your leg, stroking it gently. “Already at that age I knew that I wanted to stay with you for the rest of my life.”

Like a dove's feather hovering gently on a hot summer day, Yoongi's confession remained in his study as it got to know every nook and cranny, spreading its warmth across the room and nuzzling your heart.

Stay with you for the rest of his life.

In a way, those words danced in your mind, a complex waltz of possible futures moving through the halls of memories. In a way, those words gave you a shy smile, a gentle curve of embarrassment beautifying your face. In a way, those words settled in your heart, a homely comfort soothing your soul.

For the rest of his life.

“And how did you know?”

Your tone of voice was provocative, causing Yoongi to smile smugly.

“Because it was when I was with you that I could see the world in colors.” Yoongi let the bottle fall into his lap, one of his hands shyly searching for yours. “I believe that my life only began the day I met you. I woke up every day looking forward to go to school just to see you. And it was when we started dating that I started thinking about a future for me, for us.”

There was a passionate smile on your lips, a shiny curve that infected Yoongi and encouraged him to gently caress the soft skin of your hand.

“What was love like as a kid?”

“Weird,” a wistful laugh left Yoongi’s lips, his eyes locked on a long-lived past. “I just thought about annoying you just to have an excuse to talk to you.”

“Is that why you always stole my pencils?”

Yoongi shrugged his shoulders with a false air of innocence and you laughed. “But when our friendship started to become more natural, I only thought about you. How it was only with you that I could be myself. How it was only with you that I could really have fun. How you were the only one who gave me a purpose to wake up every day.”

“Do you have any songs about me that you haven’t shown me yet?”

Yoongi laughed, a strong, pink tone taking over his cheeks as he let go of your hand and returned to holding the bottle.

“Let's take it easy. We were talking about your poem.”

“Come on, Yoongi,” you smiled and gently pinched his stomach. “Tell me your secrets!”

Your boyfriend sighed as he let a smile be etched on his face. “I have two. One of them I wrote when I was at school.”

He got up carefully, walking to his desk and picking up a black notebook that was already quite corroded by time: the pages were damaged by humidity and water, the cover was a little torn and folded – that notebook seemed to have been loved.

“I carry this notebook everywhere,” Yoongi sat down next to you again and placed the notebook on his lap, encouraging you to come closer to him. “It’s where I have my first thoughts and songs as a dreamer. Among them the first song I wrote.”

“Rest of my life”, you read Yoongi’s handwriting like an incantation, your lips pronouncing each syllable with the flavor of importance and passion seasoning the title of that song. “Why didn’t you ever show me?”

“I was ashamed. It’s not my best work, y’know?”

“But you still keep it.”

“Because it is my most genuine and heartfelt song.”

Yoongi looked at you and you returned the look. In the shine of your boyfriend's eyes you saw your future together, a home and a family, an eternity of passion and complicity; in the curve of your boyfriend's lips you saw your shared past, infinite stories and memories, an extensive melancholy of a passionate history.

Before you kissed Yoongi, you smiled.

Your lips touched lightly for just a moment but it was enough to send warm waves through your body. It was incredible that after so many years of friendship and dating, Yoongi still had that pleasurable effect on you.

“Can I read it?”

“No,” Yoongi laughed again and closed the notebook.

“Come on! Please, Yoonie.”

Yoongi looked at you thoughtfully, seeing in your pleading eyes and your innocent smile the whole reason for that song. “It was because of you that I started dreaming of a future.”

Somehow, you noticed in Yoongi's shy and reserved tone that those words weren't random, that behind each letter and timbre there was a memory dear to him, a memory of something that was reserved forever in his heart.

“The seeds you planted bloom in my heart. Gardens of tulip petals adorn my desire for a future. I always daydream immersed in swan lakes about a tomorrow with you. I only ask that you stay with me for the rest of my life.”

Even before Yoongi finished his quote, you kissed him again, passion and magic joining your lips in a new promise of love.

“You’re right,” you placed your forehead against Yoongi’s and let out a small laugh. “It’s not your best work.”

“I’m gonna hit you.”

Between laughs, Yoongi kissed you again, pulling away quickly when the memory of the reason for your visit appeared in his mind.

“We’ve already talked about me, let’s go back to the poem.”

“I think I understand what I have to do,” your pencil twirled in your hand as words began to unite a web of thoughts inside your heart. “I just have to remember all the ways you love me and make me feel loved.”

Yoongi kissed your forehead before leaving you immersed in feelings and phrases, a little encouragement from Yoongi before he returned to his work.

ㅤㅤ♡ feedback is appreciated ♡

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Random QL Superlatives: 2024 Edition

Well I see @lurkingshan started the trend, so I better hop on

Most Heartbreaking Use of Weather: Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo

gif by @my-rose-tinted-glasses

I am going to be honest. Korea really fucking came for my throat with multiple shows that wielded weather as a weapon against my emotional state. But Hwang Da Seul absolutely wins the award for destruction of my very soul via snow. I swear to god every time it snowed in this fucking show I was losing my mind over the scene that played out before me. First it was doorways that crushed me (shout out to To My Star 2), and now it’s three snowflakes on Do Hoe’s cheek. 

Most Emotionally Charged Inanimate Object: Ossan no Pantsu ga Nandatte Ii Janai ka (aka No One Cares for an Old Man’s Underwear)

gif by @avorbl

Not a BL but one of the most important stories involving queerness of the year imo. When Makoto went back to that store to buy that wallet for Kakeru I kid you not I spontaneously erupted into tears. This was not the first nor the last time that this show made me bawl like a hungry newborn, but it for sure was one of the best indicators that Makoto was not only beginning to accept, but internalize and reshape his worldview to be more loving and accepting of difference. 

Most Realistic Fight Between a Lawyer and Henchmen: Doku Koi: Doku Mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (aka Love is Like a Poison)

gif by @conscbgb

Step aside Matthew Murdock! There’s a new lawyer in town and he absolutely cannot fight for shit! Honestly an iconic moment in this show to see Shiba Ryo take an offensive stance and then immediately get his ass beat in to the ground because he’s a fucking lawyer, not a goddamn superhero. Also it gives Haruta a wonderful little opportunity to show off his skills and to save his loser boyfriend who loves him. 

Most Important Hand Flex Since Pride and Prejudice (2005): The Trainee 

gif by @namtanlovesfilm

HELLO! I THINK WE MOVED PAST JANE’S DESK GRAB A LITTLE TOO QUICKLY! Seriously, not only was it a great hand scene in general (which you know I live for) but it was also a quick and easy way to demonstrate 1) Jane has feelings for Ryan and is trying to hold back and 2) Jane understands the inherent power imbalance between him as an AD and Ryan’s boss and Ryan as an intern. Zero points for Judy.  

Best Creepy Smile: Dead Friend Forever

gif by @lilitblaukatz

HI HELLO I’M ALREADY YELLING AGAIN! BARCODE! BARCODE TINNASIT! As disappointed as I was with the way DFF ended, I was blown out of the fucking water by Barcode’s performance as Non. From KinnPorsche to here that boy has grown astronomically as both an actor and singer, and I’m really proud of him. He had to navigate a lot of different emotional centers with some incredibly terrible things happening to his character. He was able to make Non extremely sympathetic and also creepy as hell! Be On Cloud lost out big time with Barcode leaving the company. 

Best Use of a Dildo: Knock Knock Boys

gif by @pharawee

Honestly for all the BLs that include sex, we rarely get the acknowledgement that sex toys exist, much less the actual usage of said sex toys. I loved that Almond visited a sex shop, purchased a dildo, and that we got to watch a scene of him attempting to use it. This show was honestly the biggest surprise of the year for me in terms of enjoyment. I wasn’t even really interested in this show but love Seng and wanted to support his work and then this was absolutely delightful and honestly Almond and Latte stole the show for me. Good job boys!

Best Distinction Between Reality and Fiction: BL Drama no Shuen ni Narimashta: Crank Up Hen! (aka I Became the Main Role of a BL Drama)

gif by @itagakimizuki

Full offense to a particular corner of fan culture, the way that the boundaries between real life and fiction have been known to blend when it comes to emotional bonds between fans and famous people can be very toxic and genuinely dangerous to the health and safety of everyone involved. It is difficult for me to think of a show that made me laugh as hard, as loudly, or as often as I Became the Main Role of a BL Drama did, and yet it included one of the most innocuous but brilliant lines of the year when Akafuji realized that his feelings for Aoyanagi were Real and that he could not have those feelings and continue to think of himself as Aoyanagi’s fan. Iconic. 

Best Use of Subtle Foreshadowing: Love for Love’s Sake 

gif by @my-rose-tinted-glasses

Shout out to the sound of water, shout out to some of the opening visuals, shout out to red rimmed eyes, and video game malfunctions that increased as time went on, and shout out to Tae Myung Ha being absolutely drenched after running through the school. Not only were the performances commendable throughout but the story itself was phenomenally supported by hair and makeup, sound, and special effects. I beg you all never to forget the importance of those that work behind the scenes, because goddamn did so much of this show suddenly get darker with context.  

Best Backing Track to Hear Over My Tears: Tsukuritai Onna to Tabetai Onna (aka She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat)

Kasuga sitting alone in the darkness of her own car, calling her father and officially, permanently severing ties with her father because she has found her strength thanks to the people she currently has in her life was such a highlight of this year. And of course they really drive the stake through my heart by lifting that entire scene up by having Kasuga walk out of the lonely dark and into warm companionship with fucking ‘Chosen Family’ by Rina Sawayama and Elton John playing in the background. WHAT A PERFECT SONG CHOICE! I am about to cry just thinking about it. Also, I definitely totally did not pause in the middle of typing up this post just to rewatch that scene…I don’t know what you’re talking about….

Best Use of Catholicism: Marahuyo Project 

God. This show struck an incredible number of layers when it gave us Archie. The way his grief and his fear and his internalized homophobia caused him to say and do some truly vile, harmful shit to the queer kids on the island was so heartbreaking and real. I have not really gotten the image of Archie’s neck where he’s been scratching at the rosary out of my fucking head since I watched it. This show was beautiful, and brilliant, and full of light and life, and pain, and it included an intersex character which is only the second of the 180+ shows I’ve watched out of Thailand, Japan, Korea, Taiwan, and the Phillipines to have done so. 

Best Use of Internal Screaming: Cherry Magic Thailand

gif by @zhouxiangs

(AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH)

Best 'Mark Me Down as Scared and Horny' Face: Unknown

Wei Qian was not prepared for the fact that sending Zhi Yuan to the United States only made Zhi Yuan stronger. I want to acknowledge that this show had a chokehold on me almost all the way through the end for being rather heavy, but that I was especially impressed with Modi's performance as Wei Qian. And it must be said that the look of panic in his eyes when Zhi Yuan feeds him the congee is comedy gold.

Gayest Little Run: Love in the Big City

(could not find any gifs of Go Yeong running in the park so please enjoy this lovely gif by @taeminie )

Again this is not a BL but the way my tumblr community has engaged with this book and this show is one of my favorite parts of the entire year and this is still a really important piece of queer media. I really hope Nam Yoon Su wins all the fucking awards for his performance as Go Yeong. He breathed so much life and texture into that character and it was a joy to watch him take this wonderfully difficult and complicated character on such a beautiful emotional journey. Also he fully committed to the gay little run and that alone is award worthy. 

__ Shout out to all the thoughtful, intentional, and beautiful queer shows that got made this year. Please tag me in other superlatives if they get made, I want to see what people loved or connected to in the show offerings this year. Love you, family <3

@bengiyo asked to be tagged in superlatives.

[gildedphoenix]

During the great depression, somebody made a wish. Fueled by desperation, powered by the pure dumb luck of being in the right place at the right time to be heard by an ancient Djinn (it was totally Desire) with a sense of humor. 

After the wish, everyone had a red string hanging off their left pinky. It dangled down a few inches and then just faded into non-existence. Nobody knew what it was for a few years but then stories started coming out. People finding their perfect match after feeling a tug at their string and following it. The string would twist and twine and lengthen as you got closer to your fated mate, your strings eventually connecting together. 

Most people’s strings just hung limp. Maybe listing in one direction or another. But 8 Billion people in the world and only one is your soul mate? Most people didn’t meet theirs. It was true that your soulmate was always within 10 years of age as you. But 10 years older to 10 years younger still gave you a 20 year range to work with. Everyone’s string appeared by the time they were 10. Some babies were born with their string already spun, a small red thread fading off into a wisp after a scant inch. 

Nowadays, it was common to go on a “string chase” vacation after graduating high school. Some people were close enough to their soulmates that they could just follow the leadings of their string, which would become longer and more opaque the closer you got to your mate. If your string gave you no leads, there were all kinds of "methods" to help pick which direction you should go.

Tucker and Sam were determined to go on string chase journeys post graduation. Tucker because he loved the excitement of an adventure, Sam to find someone who would truly understand her.

Danny was not so hopeful. At one point they'd all agreed to go together, but Sam felt like she was being led to the west coast while Tucker was just going to start in Metropolis, the nearest big city and go from there, hopping the next train out of town after a few days if he still had a slack string.

After a lengthy discussion of pros and cons, they decided that Tucker was more likely to get himself into trouble than Sam, so Danny found himself packing light and on a Greyhound to Metropolis. It was a shitty trip. Objectively the worst way to travel. Walking, or even hitch hiking would have been more pleasant. The bus was late. They had no way of making their connection in Chicago, and the vent fan in the bathroom was broken, making the bus reek of sewage.

Danny has shit luck and just doesn't believe he'll ever find his soulmate. The universe just doesn't like him that much.

Jason has, somehow, always had a leading direction on his string. When he was younger, there was nothing he could do about it. And now he had baggage and didn't want to pursue romance or relationship. (Even though he's a total sap for soulmate meet stories)

While in Gotham, both their strings keep tugging and lengthening and then falling slack again.

----

I know this isn't much but I promised myself I would post whatever I had and it's almost 1 am. So there. There's that fucking thing. I'll try to flesh it out more tomorrow, Enjoy red ♥️🧵♥️

[thedeathwitchescats]

Okay, review time!! If you are one of the oddballs who thinks you cant be critical of something you love I suggest you stop reading now before I ruffle your feathers. Iron flame, second in the empyrean series. I am gonna start with what I was not a fan of and then go into the shit I adored.

1) what in the actual fuck was the pacing of this book?? I can tell you what, it was non existent. There was none. Where I thought there was a lot of filler in the last book there was none in this one. We got snap shots of conversations and then *boom* more plot flew at you. The timeline of this book greatly suffered for it i think bc we end only a couple weeks, if that, after threshing, which happens sometimes in October. This book was actually so wild with times.

2) while it was a spectacular cliff hanger, xaden becoming venin pisses me off. Especially if Rebecca yarros isnt going to have him tell violet. Like if that small tid bit of a conversation we got wasnt him telling vi that he was venin then the entire romantic conflict of this book was rendered pointless and their going to be having the same fucking fight for the rest of the series and at rhat point I give up.

3) I understand that the revolution is trying to take down basgaith and make the world better or whatever the fuck but can someone actually formulate a real plan for me?? Because I feel like their mission is just, giving violet and xaden something to be pissed at each other about.

4) the entirety of cats character. I get that she was set up as a spin on the typical jealous ex. Like having her be bitter about xaden picking violet over her but OH WAIT it wasnt actually about the man it was about the crown, oohh not like other girls. Im a writer too I see the point. I dont care. I think it was trashy. If you wanted her to be a bitter spiteful ex then have her be a bitter spiteful ex, the whole crown thing was shallow.

OKAY haters your time is up now onto the shit that made my heart hurt with joy and sadness

1) xadens arc in this book. I really liked that he went from "transparency is never gonna happen" to losing his fucking mind over violet and giving her everything. I love feral men and he qualifies. I think his arc was really well done and i liked it.

2) I appericiate that violet stuck to her guns for this book. She wouldnt let xaden off without a fight and I loved that. She made him bow and scrape and I was eating it up. It was spectacular.

3) the throne room scene. Violet on the throne. "Im making a temporary point not a lasting vow of maschocism" xaden being feral.

4) that gets its own point actually, just xaden being completely feral this entire book healed a part of my soul.

5) andarna's little speech at the end where she was like "I waited for you violet" made me ugly cry. That was just so hopelessly good I loved it. Andarna in general heals my heart but that part was just *chefs kiss*

6) tarin being completely and utterly ready to eat people this entire book. Just, at every turn "I want lunch their pissing me off " was spectacular

7) every scene their squad was in. Rihannon, violet, sawyer and ridoc are my roman empire. Their bond is so amazing. The fact that they launched a rescue mission for violet. Rihannon being ready to kill xaden at every turn. Ridoc being so platonically and adorably in love with violet. Just- augh happy cries happy cries. I love it all. Their so special tbh.

8) I love xaden actually, just, the whole book every scene hes in lives in my brain.

9) I liked that we saw a small bit of violet being feral this book too. I hope that we get more of that in future books. I want more of violet losing her fucking mind. Hot, badass women covered in blood

10) Liam. Fucking Liam. When violet was kidnapped and Liam was there. Now, do I logically understand that he was a hallucination, yes, do i care?? No. He was a gift from Maleck I will be hearing no critiques on that. It was so fucking sweet and amazing. I love violet and Liam and Liam being dead so horribly breaks my heart. I loved Liam. Liams death lives rent free in my skull.

[olderthannetfic]

All this fic deletion wank has been rough to read, personally. Not in a "I find this upsetting" kind of way, but a-- I, as an author and creative, am now confronting a lot of my regrets kind of way. When I was younger I deleted fics because of harassment. And here I am over a decade and a half later, dealing with having removed my work from circulation again. In a different way, but the impact is mostly the same. Last year I put over 30 fics in a locked archive, the reason being once more because of mistreatment by people within the fan space they were for. I did it this way because I deeply regret deleting my old fics. They were part of my journey, and while a lot of stuff I find deeply embarrassing is still up on Fanfiction.net, it's not all of it. I wish I still had things to look back on, if only to remind myself that all the effort I put into writing actually led me somewhere. I've grown a lot as a writer, and it's sort of like... Not having any candid photographs of myself in my teen years. A piece of my life is just no longer viewable and only exists within memory that grows hazier over time. But when I deleted a bunch of fics in my teens, I felt extremely justified in doing so. I was angry and hurt and wanted to be vindictive. And I regret it. I didn't really come to regret it until I lost a lot of fic in strikethrough. Gone, overnight. And I still mourn those fics because my laptop they were stored on got borked and I no longer had copies. It suddenly clicked that even if I felt justified, a loss is still a loss. And it sucks. From where I'm sitting, I see both sides. I feel like sometimes withdrawing completely from a fandom is a valid thing to do. But I learned a valuable lesson about deletion over the years as I've watched more things crumble and disappear. It was an incredibly painful thing for me to lock away a bunch of fics last year, and I felt like I needed to for a lot of reasons, but I didn't want to delete things like I had before. I thought, in some way, I'd found a compromise. I give copies out. I open the archive for people to download what they miss. Because this felt like the only way to give myself some peace without completely destroying so much work and harming the people in the community who weren't part of the problem or reason I withdrew the way I did. But the more I read these takes, the back and forth, the vitriol and various perspectives, the more I wonder if I'm ready to let go of some of that pain from how bad things got in that fan space and open the archive again. You mentioned people who don't care, or treat having passion for your hobbies as a bad and/or cringe thing being boring. And something about that struck me. I poured so much of my heart and soul into those fics. Years of my life spent learning and churning out work and challenging myself to tackle narratives I never would have dared to dream of. I became a better writer over the course of creating them. Keeping them in the Restricted Section of my library hides away some of the work I'm most proud of, and even if I had what felt like good reasons to do so, I'm glad I learned the lessons I did when I did and kept them on the Archive even if they're hidden right now. It was my "right" to hide them, but I guess I've come to the conclusion here, watching this wank unfold, that the person I'm harming the most by keeping my work private and out of the hands of the community, is myself. That's my art. And I *am* proud of it. And I shouldn't let anyone take that from me. So thanks for letting the topic breathe. I gained a lot of perspective from it.

--

Aww.

[jolalibrary]

sunrise

francisco morales x santiago garcia

GIF credit to @perotovar

summary: after mixed messages, pope asks frankie if he'll watch the sunrise with him.

wordcount: 1.1k warnings: none. jo doing jo things with words. just two boys, mixed messages and a bit of hope. an: happy pride. this fic is dedicated to the lovely, wonderful @perotovar who not only is a great friend, but also has never made me feel like i'm not part of pride. it's been a long time since I've written m/m, but erin, your kind words (and gif) filled me with joy. i hope this fills you with joy too.

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz—

He doesn’t need to look, to smack his hand around the bedside table, Frankie knows where his phone is.

Retrieving it, pressing it to his ear—old sleep crusting in his eyes—Frankie lets out a soft groan, the weight of lingering thoughts still pushing heavily against his mind. With a reluctant sigh, he mumbles a tender hello, his voice heavy, gruff.

“Hey,” Pope says.

It elongates, stretches out like a fragile thread suspended between them—as though another word should have followed but isn’t spoken.

“You awake?”

“Am now.”

He doesn’t miss the chuckle that’s embedded into the breath. Nor, how it brushes down and through the phone. A sensation bubbling across his skin, his body remembering how it feels to have it against him.

“You’ve not been replying—in the group chat.”

He rubs his face, the motion all a hopeless attempt to awaken his mind, wishing the act would spur on words. Something. Anything to bridge the aching void between them.

It doesn’t.

It just adds to the other things churning inside him, layering over doubts and questions—the ones that linger unanswered, even when they are alone, haunting the spaces between their moments together.

Sliding the phone back against his cheek, he sighs. “Yeah, sorry. Just… wasn’t checking things.”

“Yeah, thought so.”

He hums, and then releases a heavy breath. Needing to fill the silence before it begins. Not wanting to find out if today it’s comfortable or the opposite.

“You busy?”

“At 3 in the morning?”

Pope laughs—and Frankie hates how much he likes the sound. Despises it, almost. Loathes it, like he detests how he feels.

“Didn’t know if you wanted to watch the sunrise with me.”

“I’m a whole flight from you, Pope.”

“Don’t have to be in the same location to watch the sun come up, Fish.”

“We fuckin’ do if it comes up at different times, cabrón.”

There’s a pause, then a chuckle. One that begins with Pope and then ends with him. It fills the air, the space, the area between them that they pretend not to notice or ask about whenever they come home.

Because home isn’t out there, where they’re adorned in layers that barrier against artillery and threats; home isn’t where they help the other free from it all in the comfort of a base room or a tent in the middle of nowhere. Home is real. It’s chosen paint on the walls and picked out bedding; it’s photographs filled with only the best and souvenirs that remind of good times.

And, right now, the only evidence of Pope here is the memories—

That first kiss. How fuelled it had been, how he’d done it purely to stop the tide of ifs and buts that Pope had been flinging, angrily darting in the hope to hit the bullseye and wound him further than his foolishness had.

And it’s not that Frankie wishes to hang up, it isn’t that he hopes to shove things further into his soul. He’s had his crisis—had it when he’d had Pope pressed against his spine, breath fanning out over his neck, making the hair curled from their earlier activities twitch and tickle.

But, he’s at least come to terms with the fact this isn’t a home thing. A thing which doesn’t exist when he steps on the plane to go back to a life where people call him Francisco. He’s made his peace with it, accepted it—as much as a person can.

He’s done the work to rationalise and reason. So, whatever this phone call is, it feels counterproductive. It feels like sinking, falling through those steps and nets he’s built until he’s drenched in the will-they-won’t-they he’s clambered far away from. The hopes seep into his skin, worming into his brain, threatening to paint shadows on the back of his eyelids at what the two of them could be—

“What are we doing, Pope?”

There’s an exhale. It’s likely a sigh, but it’s hard to assess without the facial expression. The way he wears his feelings in his body language.

“I‘m not sure.”

Frankie expects that, somehow. Yet it still stings, hurts—ripples out like a lashing he’s braced for. Rolling onto his side, he grinds his jaw. Staring at the gap in the curtains, the one that’ll allow light to bleed through in a few more hours, nostrils flaring as he shakes his head.

“I can’t watch the sunrise with you.”

“‘Cause of the time difference?”

Rolling his eyes, he blows out a harsh breath. “No. Because if we do, I’ll confess something that’ll make it hard for you to do that compartmentalising shit that you do about the fact you and I fuck.”

The silence that follows is painful, excruciating. It’s devoid and barren, dull and full of nothing. There’s no background noise to drown it out, the night too quiet, the hour too dormant—to the point it almost makes Frankie feel guilty for disturbing it.

“What if I told you I’m at the motel on 22nd—”

Frankie sits up. Bolt upright. The suddenness of it forces the sheet to fall from his neck to pool at his waist, the air cool flurrying over warm skin, heat blooming in his cheeks.

“—the one you talked about—”

His heart hammers. Pounds.

“—the one you go to when home is a bit too… home.”

“Pope…”

“Fish.”

Swinging his legs from under the sheets, elbow resting on the place above his knee, hand wiping down his face, awake, blood pounding in his ears.

“Por favor no bromees.”

Sighing, blowing it right into his ear. It’s far more soothing, rooting, than it has been before.

“Wanna watch the sunrise with me, Fish?”

Swallowing, fear threatens to poison the joy that is trying to fill his chest. His hand clamps around his knee for leverage, for strength. Squeezing, likely making his skin paler—it returning to colour when he releases as he tries to get his brain to calculate the percentage of how much of a good idea this is.

But then he hears his name. It whispered, with more of an infliction, a question to it.

And so he takes a breath. “Y-yeah. Yeah, I’ll… get dressed now.”

“Okay.”

“Alright.”

A silence unfurls, one nicer, more bearable than any of the others before—

“Well hurry then, Fish.”

And then, as Frankie suspected, Pope ends the call.

tagging: @morallyinept (for your collection)

[drenched-in-sunlight]

Hey, so I remembered in one of your earlier post you said something along the lines of souls women only really falling into the helpless victim or serious sword lady trop. And how Ema was a great subversion of it, I was wondering if you had any thoughts on

I’m making a souls-like and trying to avoid the pitfalls where I can

Btw, I love your art so much I would love to support you but I am broke

sorry i let this reply marinate in the docs for months (along with a lot of other replies like im having a catalogue of Fromsoft replies that read like thesis at this point *crying* my job is not letting me sit down and edit them) but here it is.

firstly, thank you for your message, kind encouragement already means a lot to me, so don’t worry about not being able to support me or anything ! After all I’m not putting out any new books or fan merch haha.

Here is a whole rant about Ema but somehow my grievances with how they handle Malenia's story in comparison to Messmer also pops up.

Regarding your question about Ema, I love her because of how complete her story feels and how her personal motivation and personality are written as coherently as the male characters.

She’s a war orphan who did her best to survive, learned the sword from the best swordman but with the only purpose is to kill demons. Ema saw firsthand how violence and meaningless killing did to people, so her aim can be seen as trying to offer those lost souls a mercy death, so they don’t have to suffer as a mindless demon for eternity (as in shura ending).

Yet, she's actually more interested in being a doctor & saving life and it’s not something expected of her because she’s a woman or whatnot, she chose that.

(+ she's skilled enough with the blade that it shows in her mannerism to the point Wolf, who had never seen her hold a sword, knows that she's good with one).

she was ready to kill Scuptor - someone akin to a parental figure to her, should he succumb to grief and hatred. because she loved him. not to mention she saw Tomoe - someone in a way is also her mentor, tried to take her own life, while her childhood friend Gennichiro slowly went apeshit. like that girl witnessed so many insane stuffs & they spur her to be strong & steadfast in her ideal to protect her loved ones, even when it means to lay them to rest by her own hands.

her dialogue in Shura ending "maybe i should have killed you long ago" feels like being punched in the guts to me, because she knew Wolf turning out that way meant that somewhere along the way, all of them had failed him, had ignored the signs that all the killings he was tasked to carry out was taking a toll on him. And so she took upon herself the responsibility to offer him a mercy death, even as it broke her heart.

It’s the passionate drive and decisions made as her own person, not out of blind devotion to another character, and how much we know of that because the game let us find more about her, that makes her stands out from the epic sword lady category, while the violence and steely resolve she was capable of makes her stands out from the helpless maiden one.

-kinda lose the plot here with Elden Ring rant jumping out-

This is one of the main points I have about the difference between Messmer and Malenia, how even though their stories parallel each other, I think Messmer has the better writing and gets a more complete story. He’s super devote to Marika, but in his own way, not what Marika wants of him. Evidently with how he still fights the Tarnished because he deems us unworthy, despite knowing Marika sanctioned us for Lordship.

We see a lot of sides to him outside of just a filial son, his rage and sorrow and love and a moment of stubborn selfishness that results in him willingly become a curse that clings to Marika than to let go. We see his relationship with other characters and even though his love for Marika outweighs all else, it doesn’t negate completely others that exist outside of it.

And precisely because of that, it’s more heartbreaking to see despite all these connections he has with other people, he yearns to be reunited with his Mother above all else. That kind of devotion is more hard hitting to me than the writing for the Empyrean twins.

Like, Malenia…. outside of Finnlay (whose description says more about herself than shedding any new light on Malenia) and the mentor that we actually don’t even know much about yet, what are other personal connection she has outside of Miq? I could argue the Marika’s Soreseal in the Haligtree was meant for her and that she still loved her Mother in some kind of way all I want, but at the end of the day that’s a headcahon I have to theorize from item placement, and not many ppl will notice that. We don’t know for sure what Malenia thinks of anyone else but her twin and it drives me up the wall.

Another comparison I want to bring up is DS2 Lucatiel.

I fr think even Lucatiel gets a better story arc than Malenia, despite also largely being shaped by her relationship with her brother.

Loss frightens me no end. Loss of memory, loss of self. If I were told that by killing you, I would be freed of this curse… Then I would draw my sword without hesitation. I don't want to die, I want to exist. I would sacrifice anything, anything at all for this. It shames me, but it is the truth. Sometimes, I feel obsessed… with this insignificant thing called "self". But even so, I am compelled to preserve it. Am I wrong to feel so? Surely you'd do the same, in my shoes?

She is trying to find her brother, but at the same time wrestling with her own troubles and limitations. We get to know a lot of her own motivation and her fear. I mean one could argue that it's because she's an NPC while Malenia is a boss, but the same thing could also be said for Messmer like I explained above.

-back to Ema-

As the extra sauce, I love that Ema boss music has such layers to it. the theme of her - someone clinging to her humanity to the very end because she has ppl love & support her, also acts as an elegy for Wolf's lost of humanity, of him not being able to escape the abuse trauma he grew up in. its opening instrument also appears in Demon of Hatred's OST. Her presence and theme affects other characters’ life, and we get to see her marks on a personal level in the story’s overarching narrative.

Which is the same as how Marika’s presence is everywhere in the Elden Ring OST, that little soft piano. A little in Radagon’s theme, in Shaman’s Village, in the final DLC boss ost where the female vocals starts belting out “Hail, Marika the Eternal”, in a boss arena where she had walked through to scavenge the remains of her fallen family and ascended to an existence she knew would kill her all the same, but she would do it again every single time. Walking down that hell with her eyes wide open.

When a character that could get me to write paragraphs about like that… man you know how much the writing cooks.

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

No one:

Me: Okay, but what if their relationship has nothing to do with Sonic and Tails? What if Metal literatally just saw Eggman working on Tails Doll and assumed without proof that they were created for him? What if Metal quite literally attached to Tails Doll through this assumption and then their partnership progressed naturally? What if the inorganic creations fell in love as an unorthodox power couple and just so happened to resemble a famous partnership?

[critterbitter]

HELLO HI ID LIKE TO ASK WHAT PROGRAM AND BRUSHES YOU USE CUZ IM LITTERALY EXPLODING EVERYTIME I SEE YOUR ART

actually actually... *pulls out whole stack of paper*...I have. a FEW,, a good few,, questions to ask. they are not many I swear 😇

OK SO FIRST OF ALL HOW DO YOU DRAW SO FAST???? everyday I log onto Tumblr I always see something new from you and I get very very happy. But then I start to question my own existence because not even I CAN SPEED RUN ART LIKE THAT. AND SO SPECTACULARLY TOO

Last question! how do you color and make it look so well?? just. How. I need to know. This is a CRY FOR HE-

anyway thank you for being one of my favorite artists that always feed my brain rot, pls keep making amazing art because like a little yamper I will follow behind and stay updated.

(Stands there)

Response and thoughts under cut!

First question! What art program I use!

Mostly procreate, along with a handful of brushes! (Specifically the Jing Set and some custom stuff, which is really just a circle brush with the shape changed to a square.)

Second question! How do i draw so much!

Okay so. I am. Ahhah. Unemployed,,,,? No, I do freelance illustration, but hmm. A studio job would be nice.

i graduated college last year and I’m very used to eight hour art shifts. The body sort of remembers to keep working, even though I no longer have storyboards or visdev homework to do.

Also. The hyperfixation is a deep vast tunnel I STILL have not seen the end of the light to, good golly. (I have dreams now about the kids committing shenanigan crimes. I wake up in cold sweat and write them down in a journal. It’s like being the mouthpiece to an angry god.)

So the overall gist is: I was trained to be a storyboard artist with a visdev background, and I’m using that higher education to draw funny muppets because my brain’s funny.

I also DO have a queue, and I’ve been treating this as a sort of inktober project. I am definitely going to slow down soon though! Maybe. Hopefully. Ah… (sheepishly drops my kofi here)

Third question! How do i color!

I. I, uh. I dont know man the coloring demons have a grip on my soul and i just go along for the ride. But also, if it helps, i prefer to limit my pallets to only a few colors at a time. Lighting is king, so if you can figure out if you want to focus on either on your lights or shadows, you’ll have a much easier time composing. That, and symbolic colors— idk, something hits different about art drenched in gold with a tiny hint of a man staring into the blinding horizon, or a green leafy environment with a single dot of artificial red. I also like using blue and purple for shadows, and I’m a big fan of muting colors with only one or two that pop— one of the reasons why I was so attracted to submas in the first place is because from a design aesthetic, they’re both super funny muppet men AND really cool train guys that have a limited pallet and thematic apparel.

Overall response! THANK YOU SO MUCH. This goes out to a BUNCH of people who sent me inbox queries— sorry for not responding, it’s a tad overwhelming because some of them are story questions even I don’t really know will go yet, and others are words of praise and I’m selfish and like scrolling through the inbox to look at them when I feel down. I am more of an artist who sits in the corner and sprouts like a potato rather then a branching vine who socializes, but I really do see people’s responses and they make me go :)))))

Okay ramble over. Thanks for coming to the soapbox, and good luck on creating!

[goldenhickeysandramen]

Serendipity

Serendipity is the occurrence of an unexpected and fortunate discovery that happens when you are looking for something else. It is the "happy or beautiful coincidence".

One of the most important serendipities in history is the discovery of penicillin, that happened when Fleming went on holiday and left behind a bacterial culture plate on which a fungus happened to be growing.

In the context of love, serendipity often manifests itself as meeting someone special in the most unexpected circumstances or finding love in someone unexpected. Perhaps you were expecting another thing to happen (like a strong friendship to grow?😏), but something else BEAUTIFUL occurred.

Jimin's Serendipity song is about a love that is born out of the unexpected and is so surprising that it is frightening.

It is very interesting to see that the song uses the concepts of destiny and serendipity (you are my penicillin), which are apparently opposed.

What we call "destiny" is a philosophical and existential concept that alludes to the belief that everything that happens in life happens inexorably and according to some kind of "plan". To believe in destiny is to believe that everything happening has some predetermined meaning and coherence, and that there is therefore little point in resisting it ("It was fate that led to this... that we crossed paths..., that we came this far... "🥰).

From the perspective of serendipity, what there is the happiness of having met in the midst of chaos, where it was highly unlikely that we would meet or spend enough time together to build a love story. There is no destiny, only the most beautiful coincidence.

I find interesting how the song mixed both philosophies. The lyrics talking about destiny, and what happened ...that must be "the providence of the universe"...

.. there’s a kind of “acceptance” that "It just had to be"... maybe because despite initial caution or opposition, there existed no alternative path for the souls involved but to inevitably fall in love.

Funny thing is to see that - as far as we know - these are the two visions that JK and Jimin have of their own lives ☺️ (One firmly believing in destiny and the other in building his own paths).

And you will say .... It's Namjoom who wrote the lyrics.

Yes, I know.

BUT....I really think that Jimin gave him certain hints of what he wanted to say, or alternatively… Namjoon already knew. Because this song is so Jikook coded.. Jimin (and Jungkook too) giving us some hints during years.

The first one was in Run episode 61 (which was recorded in summer 2018). BTS split into teams to compete for snacks and in the game Jimin and JK got the same score: 738.

https://x.com/bangtannuggets/status/1361299753900867585?s=46&t=vgk32mOt764yK5fakoQqow

Jungkook asked "Destiny?" (see where JK is going? 😊)

And Jimin replied "I told you, you are me, I am you".

When did he tell him?

Did we miss something?

Do you mean he told him so in the song?

Or did he tell him before, in 2016, when Zico released a song with that name (I am you, you are me) about love and destiny that Jungkook and him decided to pay homage to on a fansign?

At the beginning of 2016 Zico released the song 지코(ZICO) - 너는 나 나는 너 (I am you, you are me)

In his MV Zico appears visiting a convenience store, where the girl working there always happens to match clothes (LOL) with him. And in one of the last scenes, the two appear with a similar wound on their finger, and with matching band-aids.

And the lyrics...

If both hearts feel the same, they're ONE..

So.. I am you, you are me

In Puma's April 2016 fansign, Jimin and JK appeared with matching Pororo’s bandaids on their fingers. And although some fans asked if they were injured, neither answered in that way. Jimin even admitted that he wore the bandaid because "the lil one" gave it to him.

The next time the two said the line to each other was on BTS Love Yourself Japan Dome Tour Documentary & Interview 2018 on TBS.....

https://x.com/gcfKM57/status/1499717697914900481

Then Jungkook gave the only explanation we have so far... that Jimin was messing with his song the whole time....(???)

Jungkook made the finger gesture and Jimin finished the verse for him.

(I wonder if the finger gesture came about while Jimin was doing the choreo, as he has many moments where his finger stands alone... I'm already envisioning the scene where JK possibly walked over and...🥰🥰🥰🤡🤡🤡🤡)

That moment in the interview speaks for itself... but as usual, the members’ reaction reveal even more, if that's possible...😂😂

So….long story short….how much of a coincidence is there when...

1. Jimin said that he would give a song (as a gift) to the person he loves in the future…? (Jungkook being very “curious” about the answer 😉)

2. He doesn't let Jungkook visit him in the MV recording ... only to see later in the MV certain sus date 😶..?

3. He includes as part of his song the title from a love song that he and JK paid homage to a year ago…?

4. Jimin told Jungkook that line and makes it "the line" between them for years…?

5. Jungkook not only accepted it, but still sings and hums the song years later, as the precious gift it is…. ?

https://x.com/lovemazejikook/status/1451536877211684864?s=46&t=vgk32mOt764yK5fakoQqow

..... ????? (closing question)

You know the answer.

Jimin told us

There is no "for army" involved here.

No fan song to allude to this time.

2017 was a year of declarations of LOVE from both of them.

Each of them chose their own artistic expression.💛💜