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

[consouling]

I am here to lay the ground works of any potential continuations of this fic in the future, ignore any minor details at your leisure and convenience.

First, the rumours

The original rumour was that if you went into the graveyard late at night, you'd die. But that obviously didn't happen to our POV character.

Therefore, stating the obvious, someone purposefully spread false rumours about the graveyard to keep everyone away. (Probably Lady Gotham)

Alas, it did not work for our POV civilian character, who shall henceforth be known as Morgan, has infiltrated and successfully evaded the threat of death.

Of which there was no threat of in the first place.

Beause let's be real, without Vlad's soul being intertwined with Danny's, and without knowing all his friends, family, and home are dead, gone, and/or destroyed, Danny would never knowingly kill someone.

So, with Morgan 'surviving', the spreading of the new, more interesting rumour about the pretty boy turning into a monster begging to be let free is created.

For consistency, efficiency, and realism's sake, let's say Morgan is an semi-famous influencer known to be reliable with a main focus of content on debunking Gotham's many urban myths, legends, and superstitions and such.

The reason to be in the graveyard is to stake out the area for filming the next night.

Why check the site out only at night? Being an influencer is busy work, okay? Shush.

With Morgan being shaken up by The Encounter, the account stays unactive for a couple of days. Fans get worried until one notification. One post that goes *viral* titled;

'I Didn't Die in Gotham's Oldest Cemetery, But I Kinda Wish I Did'

(Valantines Day special gone horribly wrong! I kissed a ghost!!!???)

There are a couple of things the rumour could be called, but I think it's wise to best utilise the comedic potential of making fun of Danny's curious tendency to kiss everyone who comes into his graveyard unwarranted.

AKA Danny now becomes know as...

'The Harrlot'

Nicknamed simply just 'Harlot', which would be hilarious.

Second, The Batfam

They, too, like Morgan, thought the rumour of the graveyard being deadly at night was a farce as it has only been a recent rumour with unknown origins.

And they were right.

Partly

The death rumour was fake, obviously, but there was always something wrong with that graveyard.

Too quiet, too dark, too nothing.

You'd imagine that this is what outerspace would be like if you strip away all the wonder. Every star burnt out, leaving the void and you. The only comfort being the sight of the earth below you.

But now this new rumour has attracted more people, more daredevils, curious ghost hunters, and pressured teenagers. Though there are few people like this in a place like Gotham, there is enough to say the rumour is real.

The Batfam don't know if 'The Harlot' is a normal person, a meta, or an actual ghost, but they know he is real.

And therefore start to investigate the one traumatising all these people.

If we don't want Batfam, we can disregard this section entirely.

Thirdly, Danny's Origin

My personal favourite angst is a character yearning for a home that no longer exists and doesn't know their family is dead until they get their hopes too high.

So, to get this to make sense, it should neither be Good Reveal nor Bad Reveal.

Introducing, No Reveal!

After a particularly rough fight, Danny is down for the count

Jazz carries him up to his room to rest the injuries off, but the next day the Fenton parent are the ones to find him.

Not breathing

Without a heartbeat.

By then, the injuries from the last fight have fully healed, and so with no clue of how Danny got here they assume that, well,

Danny died in his sleep.

While the funeral preparations are under way, Jazz, Tucker, and Sam are trying to retrieve his body and wait for him to wake up.

They succeed. Expect he doesn't wake up.

The three of them are labelled as grieving and are put under watch to prevent them from stealing Danny's body again.

The moritcian embalmes Danny's body, and he's put into the casket where he lays to rest for an undetermined amount of time.

How his grave and/or the entirety of Amity Park's grave site ended up in Gotham? I have one single idea.

In order to make every statement in the fic/s above true, Gotham would have to be built on top of Amity Park.

What happened to Amity? Writers choice.

Why is Amity in New Jersey? Amity's placement in America has never been confirmed, so we could just *say* it was in New Jersey.

Anyway, Danny is in Gotham, entirely alone, trapped in a grave yard with no knowledge of why, where, or when he is.

He is truly

Utterly

Caged.

Kiss of Death- DCxDP prompt

A valentine horror.

Didn't matter why you were there or why you didn't run.

There was a graveyard older than Gotham itself. The names on the grave are weathered and unreadable from hundreds of years of exposure. The only reason one should come here was if you had managed to track your heritage to this gravesight after searching museum archives for burial records since the city wouldn't keep ones so old in the government building.

Unless...

You came because of the legend.

It's a new one. So it's more of an urban legend.

The story goes that the graveyard is haunted and a that anyone who comes here late at night will die. It's a simple legend, a very cliche and uncreative one at that.

But here you are. What was your goal? Ghost hunting? Graverobbing? Or perhaps your curiosity had consumed you and you had to know.

The air was thick. Like you are slowly choking on the darkness around you. Have you ever been in a room so quiet it was deafening? Like you are sure you must have lost your hearing because not even the wind would greet your ears. It was just empty space that wordlessly told you that you are alone. But that was just a room. A room that you leave and find solace in a trip of a light switch. This however was no room. It was the wide expanse of the outside world. In a place where streetlamps were not even a flicker in the minds of the residents that rest deep below your feet.

You chose a bad time to come. Perhaps you would be spared the wondering in the dark if you had the forgiving light of the moon on you. But such things were an afterthought, wasn't it? No tonight the moon was shadowed and the light of the stars would be your only salvation...but this was still Gotham. Could their light even reach you with the distant city lights over the horizon? Could the clouds mercifully move out of the way to give you some hope that you were not abandoned?

Now you were ill-prepared but you must have had some sense to at least charge your phone before you came. It's flashlight might be enough to get you back. But you're come this far. Brave or foolish you continue forward.

Until someone approached. You couldn't see them, only hear the muted footfalls of something coming near. Your ears so starved for sensation drank it like water in a dessert.

And in the light of your torch, a face appeared. A pair of baby blue eyes simmered in the light. A relieved smile on a pair of soft pale pink lips. A young man with tousled black locks appearing holding a small arm full of lilies and tulips.

"Finally, someone else. I thought I'd be here till morning." He said in relief as he came closer.

"What are you doing here?" You ask surprised that you weren't the only person here.

"I was cleaning the graves here and I must have lost track of time. Can you lead me out of here?" He asked softly and you'd hit yourself if you said no.

He clung to your arm as you walked him down the path.

The air began to get colder.

Where there was once silence you hearabout d the sound of crows beating their wings and making their wretched calls.

He clung harder to you.

That horrible curiosity got the better of you and so you began to speak.

"Why were you out here cleaning graves anyways." You asked.

"I was...helping. I come here alot." He said simply.

Nevermind the fact he was not dressed in clothes fit for cleaning. His white button-up shirt and dress pants were not something you get dirty. In fact, he didn't have a fleck of dirt on him.

"Where are your supplies?" You ask.

"I left them behind. I'll come back for them." He said curtly.

His grip on your arm tightened and it got colder.

"Just stay close please. I don't want to lose you in this darkness." He cooed.

You begin to feel lightheaded. The cold damp air made it hard to breathe.

You hear the crows...no ravens call out again.

"Never leave!" They repeated

"Trapped!" They called.

You hear a growl come from those pink lips, only they weren't pink anymore.

You look down at your companion and see a pair of bloody lips and a smile curled into a cruel but somehow sweet smile. A pair of glowing acidic green eyes that narrowed into pinpricks like a bird locking onto its prey. His once soft ebony lock now as stark white as snow caps.

You try to pull away but their grasp crushed your arm, hands like icy claws dug in.

" Where are you going?" He asked calm his eyes baring into yours.

Suddenly he did look very scary. No, he looked...so sad...so helpless and lost. His eyes where so warm and inviting.

"Don't leave me here. Help me. I promise I'll make it worth your while." His smile was so warm and inviting.

"Leave!" The ravens screeched.

"Run!" They called.

Even the screaming of the birds where drowned out as he pressed his lips to yours. It was too late. The sickly sweet scent of death and flowers filled your senses.

Why though, was his lips so cold? Why did they fill his mouth with the coppery taste of blood? Why did you feel so empty in the space you had hoped he'd fill in your heart?

But then a sharp pain struck your head and the warm trickle of blood flowed from your wound as a bird flew over your head.

You pulled away from the cloying embraces you perked in pain. And then you saw it. His face half half-rotted and skeletal. The once handsome man was a monster.

You sprinted away from him trying to frantically call someone for help on your phone. But foolish one had you forgotten. Your phone is also your flashlight and as you tried to use it you could only run blindly in the dark hoping you were still on the path. The sound of wind slicked the air behind you as you felt his icy breath on the back of your neck. You could only guess what was behind you as you heard no footsteps behind you only the feeling of being chased.

You dared not stop not even a moment and prayed that you didn't stumble. But mercy had found you as you saw the gate come into view and the solitary streetlight just beyond the boarder.

"You said you'd get me out! You can't leave me here!" A bloodcurdling screech rang out.

But you had already won as you made it out just barely with the graze of clawed fingertips at the back of your neck.

You closed the gate behind you and as you gazed into the dark abyss beyond the metal barrier you half expected it to be there. For it to snarl at you in anger watching you leave or slamming itself at the gate. But there was nothing. Not even the wind.

[thechy-fychannel]

Giigling about what if Hilson only kept their relationship secret at the hospital. Outside they are lovey-dove grossness and stuff but in princeton-plainsboro they are best friends worsties. Only hr (and by extension, Cuddy) knows. Its cause of homophobic patients (house won't get to do his mad scientist experiments otherwise) and that its a puzzle that keeps house entertained.

Idk if they do comitment at all but i like to think they wear matching ring on chain or other necklace material :)

also giggling about this !! I am a huge fan of the trope of no one at the hospital knowing that they're actually married (or domestic life partners bc gay marriage wasn't legal in NJ until 2013 boooo 👎) it's honestly one of my favorite silly lil headcanons for them.

The running joke about wilson being divorced 3 times actually stems from house joking about their own breakups. they've had some really bad breakups that they consider "divorces" bc if they had been legally married, they would've divorced and remarried each other like 3 times. honestly house made the joke at work one day abt wilson being a three time divorcee and everyone just assumed that he'd been married to 3 different women. they let everyone believe that since they didn't want to come out at work anyways.

he's only been legally married once, which was to sam and has been with house on and off (but mostly on) ever since they met. I can even see house still being with stacy for a while, but that was during one of their "divorce" eras. they "divorced" sometime in the late 90s, wilson got with bonnie pretty much immediately after in order to hide his pain from breaking up with house. house got with stacy sometime not long after, then the infarction happened and stacy left. wilson pretty much immediately dumped bonnie so he could get back with house and take care of him. julie never actually existed, that's just the name they use when wilson is complaining about his "wife" to others bc he can't call house his husband. this is why we never actually see julie, she never existed.

they "divorce" again during the tritter era, and then wilson meets amber. a series of very unfortunate events occur and then hilson gets back together during Birthmarks and that's the last time they "divorce" and get back together. each time they get back together, they have a cute lil unofficial ceremony somewhere where they renew their vows and exchange the same rings they've been wearing since the 90s bc it can't be a divorce without a wedding alfjalfk.

ppl see them fight at work all the time and they make their jokes abt how they're probably sleeping together or at least they want to, but it's all really jokes bc ppl assume they're both straight. but really the fighting is absolutely just foreplay and then they go home together and have the nastiest sex imaginable and then cuddle after and are sooo lovey-dovey to each other. I love the idea of them allowing themselves to be soft and loving with each other outside of work. They're both romantics, especially house, they just show it in their own ways. like house lovesss to send wilson flowers pretending to be a secret admirer (further perpetuating the idea that wilson sleeps around with lots of women) but wilson always knows they're from his hubby.

the only other person from work who ends up finding out is thirteen (and amber knew about them before she 💀) and that's bc gay recognizes gay. she never ever ever tells a soul that she knows, but when house picks her up from prison and they are in that lil motel or whatever eating the rhubarb pies, she overhears house on the phone with wilson being so sweet, telling him that he loves him, that they'll be home in a couple of days and he misses him. house didn't realize she was within earshot and he gets all mad and flustered abt it, but thirteen opens up to him abt her brother and what she did. it's a rly sweet moment that allows them both to be open and vulnerable with each other and house tells her all about his relationship with wilson. after that, she occasionally gets invited over to their place for dinner or on holidays when she doesn't want to go home. she gets to witness them outside of work first hand, watching them cook together, house making a mess and wilson yells at him, house yells back, and then suddenly they're laughing and kissing in the kitchen, happier than she's ever seen them before. she would never ever out them and they know that. when she sees them together, she understands why they wouldn't want anyone else to know bc they have something so real and sweet and special, they want to keep it safe for as long as possible.

[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?

[burningembers91]

Not Who I Want to Be - Choi Su Bong (Thanos) x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Thanos is tired of life, until he meets you.

A/N: I am determined to make this man likeable. Redemption story arc incoming!

Warnings: Mentions of abusive father, mentions of drug and alcohol dependency. 18+ only!

Thanos couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent 24 hours sober. He’d either been drunk, high, or both for as long as he could remember. When he was a teenager, it was a way to escape his abusive father, but the pills and drinks eventually became a crutch, one he couldn’t function without.

He still had no idea how he’d become so famous, how his music had managed to become such a hit with so many people. There were songs he didn’t even remember writing, days that were completely lost in a haze of booze and drugs. But somehow, people loved him. He was under no illusion that people loved him for who he was – he knew he was a prick. No, people loved him for his fame, his money, and his seemingly unlimited supply of narcotics.

It didn’t matter to Thanos though; he relished the attention, basked in the flirtatious attention he received from women whose names he never bothered to learn. His friends were nothing more than people desperate for fame, clinging to him in the hope he’d make them as big a name as he was.

People seemed to love his outlandish character. Every time he did something insane, his fans would go crazy for him. So, Thanos slowly became more unhinged, forgetting the little boy he’d once been, the one who’d had big dreams. He spent each night with a different woman, attending every party in Seoul. His penthouse apartment was a constant hive of activity, the people he’d picked up along the way using it as a base to get high.

He didn’t even enjoy music anymore, the words he wrote meant nothing to him. His fans constantly demanded more of him, so he worked like a dog to give them exactly what they wanted. Nothing he wrote made sense; it had no meaning, no context behind the raps. His songs were as empty as his soul; but people were eating up his words like they were gospel.

It was a usual Saturday night ritual for him to attend a club in Seoul. To make an appearance to the crowd, before getting blackout drunk. Tonight, he found himself in the throng of a sweaty crowd, so high off the pills he’d taken before coming out that he was barely clinging to existence. The usual scroungers were there, taking as many free drinks from him as they could get, posing for photos that would instantly be uploaded to Instagram for a few minutes of fame. Girls were clinging to his shirt, their slurred words ricocheting off his ears, melting into the thump thump thump of the base from the speakers to his right. He was dizzy, dehydrated and so, so fucking done with this crowd. He needed to get away, needed to breathe some fresh, sweat-free air.

Pushing himself away from his followers, he stumbled up the steps to the rooftop. It was raining, the wind pushing the droplets sideways into his face. If it was cold, his body didn’t feel the chill. It had been a long time since Thanos had felt anything. The roof was empty, expect for a figure to his left. You were stood huddled under a thin canopy, your arms crossed over your chest. You sipped periodically from a glass, shivering every now and again against the stormy night.

You were the most beautiful thing Thanos had ever seen. You seemed to light up the entire space, despite the wind and rain. Your outfit clung to your figure, accentuating your curves and leaving him breathless. You spotted him staring and offered a small smile. Half walking, half stumbling, Thanos made his way over to you. One good thing about the booze and the drugs, it gave him confidence; and he’d need a bucketful to speak to you.

“Hey girl,” he said, instantly transforming into his overly-macho, too confident persona. “You know who I am?” “No,” you simply said, taking in his tall, lean figure and bright purple hair. “Should I?” “I’m fucking Thanos, baby!” He cried, the wind drowning out his voice, making him seem as small as he felt. “Right… Sorry, doesn’t ring any bells,” you shrugged, downing the last of your drink. “Where would I recognise you from?” “My music,” he told you proudly, spreading arms so you could take him all in. This wasn’t the usual reaction he got. People usually knew he was before he’d even introduced himself, but you, you were just looking blankly back at him. “I’m award winning, senorita!” “Sure,” you smiled, “I’ll uh… I’ll take your word for it.” A clap of thunder stopped your next words, the two of you looking towards to the storm-laden skies. “We should get inside,” you said, “wouldn’t want the famous Thanos to be struck by lightning.”

Following you inside, he couldn’t help but eye your figure as you walked down the stairs. You were nothing like anyone he’d ever seen. Your indifference and unfamiliarity with him were refreshing. You weren’t scrambling to get an autograph or clinging to him in the hopes he’d buy you a drink or take you home for the night. “You here with friends?” He didn’t want the conversation to end, he didn’t want you to leave. He’d probably never see you again if you left now. “Yeah,” you nodded, “it’s my colleagues’ birthday. She really loves this place. You?” Thanos looked around, his eyes scanning the crowd for the people he knew were anything but his friends. “Yeah, baby! It’s Saturday night! It’s party night!” If he wasn’t so off his face, he’d be cringing at the way he was speaking. This wasn’t him; he knew it wasn’t. But he didn’t know how to be any other way. “Well, don’t let me interrupt your evening,” you smiled. He could tell you thought he was a joke; he knew you saw straight through his bullshit. “Wait!” He called after you. “Can I get your number”? You turned and shook your head. “Sorry, Thanos,” you smiled, “I don’t give my number to Marvel villains.” He laughed; not only were you beautiful, you were funny too. “What about your Instagram then?” You thought for a few moments, and finally agreed. Typing your account name into the search bar, you pressed the follow button. “Hey, your accounts private!” Thanos remarked, seeing the request pending written across the screen. “Yeah, it’s to stop all the weirdos from following me. You never know, I might accept. Have a goodnight, Thanos!” And with that, you disappeared into the crowd.

He awoke the next morning, his head pounding and his mouth dry. Some random girl lay next to him in bed, a bottle of vodka tipped on his side and dripping the last of its contents all over his custom-made tile floor. His memory of last night was hazy; he didn’t remember leaving the club or getting home. He didn’t remember going to bed with a stranger, but he remembered you. He remembered the way the strobe lights reflected in your eyes, the way you refused to put up with his shit. He grabbed his phone, scrolling through his apps until he found Instagram. Clicking on your profile, he couldn’t help but smile when he saw you’d accept his follow request.

A message popped up on his notification banner from you. His hands shaking from nerves and withdrawal, he clicked on it. Hey Thanos, it read, I hope you didn’t get blown away in the storm last night. He laughed, harder than he had done in months. Finally, he was excited about his day. He couldn’t wait to reply, couldn’t wait to see where this new conversation could lead him. He jumped out of bed, heading for the shower with his phone clutched in his hand. For the first time in a long time, Thanos was looking forward to the day ahead.

[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

기다려 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 ♡

[the-phiwi]

Phiwi!

I would love to hear your adoption story, how did Dan and Phil find you?

I am so glad you asked!

I was but a lonely kiwi sitting on a shelf, I mean, I did have my fellow kiwi friends but I yearned for something more.

I had always felt like my purpose in life was more than just to sit on a shelf collecting dust. Hoping that some stranger buys me for their garden as I sit there to rust.....

That's when a mysterious hand reached out and picked me up. My kiwi mates all watched me, the chosen one in envy.

The hand started stroking my metal feathers gently, assuring me that everything was going to be okay. They explained that I was to be spray painted gold and put on a stage in front of thousands of people. I almost shat myself. Alas, we went to the front of the store to buy the paint, and I got to see the outdoors for the first time. It was a beautiful moment.

I was strapped to a chair. I hear it's called a seatbelt, and is to keep passengers safe.

I was then taken to an undisclosed location and spray painted a bright yellow. (Mysterious hand person bought the wrong paint).

But that was okay, cause they got the right paint in the end. It felt nice when it was sprayed up my bum.

After I had dried, I got to meet this 'Dan and Phil' I had heard so much about. The dark haired one cackled very loudly when he first saw me, and the blonde one just started into my soul with a little smirk on his face.

Come show day, I was placed on a big black box. I was super nervous to be in front of all those fans. I was told about the legend that is the Golden Pig. How could one ever live up to such an iconic creature? I was afraid I would let everybody down, and that they'd wish that the pig was there instead of me. Phil gave me a pep talk before they went backstage to start the show, and I felt a little better.

After the end of the show, I wasn't sure what my fate would be. I am a pretty big kiwi, and London is 24 hours worth of flights away. Would Dan and Phil really bother to bring me back to their home? I thought I was done for.

Luckily, I was wrong, and I was brought all the way across the world to my new home in The Phouse.

And now finally, my life has a meaning. The sense of fulfilment is crazy. I got to be onstage in front of thousands of people. I am now painted gold and feel like a STAR. I have made great friends (hi Pheal and Golden Pig, ily), and have the most loving dads who treasure my existence. The Phouse is the height of luxury. When I was a lonely orphan at The Warehouse, I could have only dreamed of a life like this.

Thank you Dan and Phil for adopting me 🥝💛x

[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.

[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.

[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 ♥️🧵♥️

[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.

[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?

[hopeymchope]

The utter brilliance of Castlevania: Nocturne S1 (and the fucking pox of right-wing YouTubers)

I just rewatched Castelvania: Nocturne's first season, and it's so fucking excellent. Upon first viewing, I already thought it was probably the second-best season of animated Castlevania, but now? I think it's probably the best one.

The character relationships offer so much drama and emotion. The dialogue is both clever/witty AND moving. The directing of the action sequences has always been top-tier on this show, but the vocal performances make them even more engaging and involving. The way they've infused historical context into the story is absolutely brilliant.

Some of the weird story decisions RE: Dracula at the end of the first series' fourth season (not unsatisfying decisions, mind you, but still just... bizarre, if you're adapting this franchise) really stuck the writers in a weird position as far as how to move forward. I could think of maybe three solid possibilities: one which would undermine the ending of S4 completely, one which would require a HUGE leap forward into the modern day, and the third? Is basically what they did.

Bringing in Erzebet Bathory, the primary antagonist of Castlevania: Bloodlines, was certainly a valid approach for how to deal with the Dracula situation. Applying her to the Rondo of Blood/Symphony of the Night era is surprising, but not terribly so; it's not like her historical counterpart didn't already exist. I have some qualms with HOW they did this (why is she Russian now instead of Hungarian.... ?), but there's no denying that she serves as an effective antagonist.

Look at that; that's literally Maria's design in "Nocturne" right there.

As a fan of the games, this is obviously a different world but still an extremely familiar one. Seasons 3 and 4 of the first series felt like we were drifting farther and farther away from our roots in the games, but Nocturne brings us closer to that inspiration again. Richter and Maria look like they stepped right out of the PSP's "Dracula X Chronicles," with their costumes nearly identical... though of course, Richter eventually adds and embraces the headband from his original "Rondo" design. Maria is just a handful of years older than she is in Rondo/Dracula X Chronicles, allowing her to be far less of the out-of-place childish cartoon character that she comes off as in Rondo (or Castlevania Judgment, for that matter). I realize that was the POINT of her character in Rondo — to feel like she invaded from a totally different series — but the writers do a great job bringing her in line with the tone and characters of the animated series and overall franchise in Nocturne. The characters' powers and abilities are very much based in the games; we even get an (incredibly rousing!) rendition of "Divine Bloodlines" when Richter pulls off a "Grand Cross"-style magical attack for the first time in his life. It's exhilarating. And that's even without me getting into how Richter uses his triple-knife throw, or how we get the lore of the woefully underrated "Harmony of Dissonance" rolled into this show when a certain character makes a surprise appearance (to my immense delight).

Regarding the original four seasons... "I'm going to eat your soul, shit it out and and use it to smother your fucking girlfriend" was not the kind of dialogue I expected to hear from DEATH, of all people.

There are times in the original four-season run when it feels like it's trying a little too hard to be edgy and grimdark—times when the excessive gore and the insane use of profanity feels like it's screaming "I AM AN ADULT ANIMATED SERIES" in a way that's undermining its best qualities. But Castlevania: Nocturne is too confident to fall into such traps. The gore is there, the profanity is present, but it's only in service of exciting action, consistent characterization, and powerful storytelling; no lingering still shots of blood-spattered cribs for shock value are necessary. It's just a smash from start to finish, and after each episode, I find myself pondering the implications of certain lines and stories — thinking about the goddamn philosophical underpinnings of this animated show based on video games.

Nocturne is a prime example of how and why we're in a golden age of video game adaptions right now. This thing is BEGGING for a deep dive into its world, its lore, and its characters' worldviews. It's the kind of thing that would make for killer YouTube essays exploring all of its facets, because there is just SO MUCH here.

So when I go onto YouTube, and I only find one video that even says "It's not that bad" amidst a goddamned SEA of "This show's writing is shit and this series is fucking woke trash"??? That's when I know WE HAVE FAILED AS A FUCKING SPECIES.

These fucking right-wing YouTube dudebros are ruining our ability to think logically, they are MURDERING our media literacy. They are an absolute cancer. The fact that we don't have strong counterpoints out there against them is a crime; the right-wing grifters have totally conquered the algorithm.

I wish I had the skill or knowledge or even TIME to make videos of my own.

Fucking ugh.