#if there’s anyone else who loves these books pls reach out

[sleep1ng-w1llow]

i’m probably the only person here who cares about these books but i’m gonna talk about them anyway

the books in question being openly straight and honestly ben by david leviathan.

first, some summaries, with spoilers

openly straight comes first in chronological order, and was also published first. it follows rafe, a gay teenager from colorado, who is sick of being “the gay kid” in his highschool. so he changes schools, and moves to an all-boys boarding school in massachusetts, determined not to tell anyone he’s gay. but while there, he meets ben, a quiet and incredibly buff guy, who he develops a huge crush on. they grow close, moving from friendship to something more. but for ben, this is his first non-hetero experience, and he doesn’t know rafe was openly gay in colorado. once he finds out, his trust is shattered.

honestly ben follows ben during the semester after his experience with rafe. he stays away from rafe, and meets someone from the all-girls boarding school nearby, and begins to fall for her. but eventually, he accepts rafe’s apologies, and they begin as friends, though ben still misses their previous relationship. he also struggles with the fact that he is still heterosexual. rafe is the only exception. throughout the book ben also contemplates labels, misogyny, his identity, and how the people around him view him.

from everything i’ve seen online, it seems that openly straight received much more positive attention than honestly ben, but the main reason for that is confusing to me. many people preferred rafe’s perspective to ben’s, because rafe was more active. he was characterized through his actions rather than feelings. i feel like this is just a reflection on their differing personalities tho. rafe is more outgoing and outspoken, whereas ben takes more time to process his feelings, not one to stir things up, wants to be sure of situations before acting. because of that, he’s characterized through his thoughts and feelings more than his actions.

i read honestly ben first, before i knew openly straight existed. i loved it so much, loved the angst and sensitive topics, and all the delicate relationships ben balanced throughout the semester. his internal monologues were insightful and interesting to me. i was excited to read openly straight for the first time, but a little let down by it. i guess i was also confused how ben could be boring to people. i wished i could be more like him.

anyways that’s my little talk. i probably won’t do many more book review type things, but i doubt y’all have heard the last of ben and rafe from me

[fear-less]

pls i need harry content 😭

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 he's like a poem I wish I wrote

pairing: harry potter x f!reader

➥ In which, harry finally confesses his feelings towards his closed off friend.

Warnings:black cat gf golden retriever bf, reader is a gryffindor, fluff, no smut but it gets 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂, they make out, idk what else 

a/n: I was trying not to write too much harry BUT HEY, if u guys like him sm I will no longer hold myself back🙏

2.4k words 

It was a crisp autumn day at Hogwarts, the kind where the air was cool but not biting, and the leaves scattered across the grounds in hues of amber and crimson. You were sitting by the Great Lake, a book in hand, when you heard the familiar crunch of footsteps behind you. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Skipping lunch again?” Harry’s voice called out, warm and teasing.

You turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe I just enjoy the quiet. Not everyone’s a bundle of energy like you, Potter.”

Harry grinned, undeterred by your sharp tone. “Or maybe you just enjoy pretending to be aloof. I brought you a pumpkin pasty, by the way.” He held it out, and despite your best efforts, a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

“Fine,” you said, taking the pasty. “Thanks.”

Harry plopped down beside you, his untidy black hair catching the sunlight. His green eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and warmth that could charm anyone—though you’d never admit it aloud. You’d always been the reserved one, the one who observed from the shadows, while Harry was the embodiment of sunshine, drawing people to him effortlessly.

“So, what are you reading this time?” he asked, leaning closer to peer at your book.

“It’s a Muggle mystery novel,” you replied, shifting slightly to keep the book out of his reach. “Not that you’d understand it.”

Harry laughed, the sound loud and unabashed. “Is that a challenge? You know I love a good mystery.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the fondness in your voice. “I think your idea of a mystery involves chasing after enchanted keys or dodging cursed objects. This is a bit more subtle.”

The two of you sat there for a while, the easy banter flowing between you. Despite your contrasting personalities, you’d always found comfort in Harry’s presence. His warmth balanced your cool demeanor, and his relentless optimism chipped away at your walls in a way that no one else could.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Over the weeks, your time together became more frequent. Whether it was studying in the library, sneaking out to the kitchens for a late-night snack, or simply wandering the castle grounds, Harry seemed to seek you out more and more. You didn’t mind—though you’d never admit how much you looked forward to his company.

One evening, you were curled up in an armchair in the common room, a book in hand, when Harry bounded over, his energy as infectious as ever.

“You’re always reading,” he teased, flopping into the seat across from you. “How do you ever have time for fun?”

“This is fun,” you replied without looking up. “Not everyone feels the need to be constantly moving, you know.”

Harry leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands. “But wouldn’t it be more fun if you had company? Say, someone to annoy you until you finally agree to take a break?”

You shot him a pointed look but couldn’t hide the amusement in your eyes. “And I suppose you’re volunteering for that role?”

“Obviously,” he said with a grin. “Who else could do it as well as me?”

Despite your best efforts, you found yourself smiling. Harry’s golden retriever energy was hard to resist, and as much as you pride yourself on being unshakable, he always managed to find the cracks in your armor.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

It was during a Quidditch match that Harry first realized something had shifted. Gryffindor was playing Slytherin, and you were sitting in the stands, your usual reserved demeanor on display. But when Harry made a particularly daring move to dodge a Bludger, you’d leapt to your feet, your hands clenched tightly around the railing.

After the match, as the team celebrated in the common room, Harry’s eyes sought yours across the crowd. You were sitting in your usual corner, your expression carefully neutral, but when your gaze met his, a flicker of warmth passed between you. It left him wondering if there was something more beneath your guarded exterior.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

One snowy afternoon, the two of you ventured out to the courtyard. The air was crisp, and snow blanketed the grounds in a pristine white. You’d been reluctant to leave the warmth of the castle, but Harry’s enthusiasm was contagious.

“Come on,” he said, tossing a snowball at you. “Even you can’t resist a little fun in the snow.”

You glared at him, brushing the snow from your cloak. “You’re impossible, Potter.”

“And you’re predictable,” he shot back with a grin. “But I’ll take that as a challenge.”

Before you could respond, he launched another snowball at you. What started as a one-sided attack quickly turned into a full-blown snowball fight, laughter echoing through the courtyard as you darted behind pillars and trees for cover. Finally, Harry tackled you into a snowbank, both of you breathless and laughing.

“Truce?” he asked, his green eyes shining with mischief.

“Truce,” you agreed, your cheeks flushed from the cold and the exertion.

As you lay there, side by side in the snow, the playful atmosphere shifted. Harry’s laughter faded, and he turned to look at you, his expression softening.

“You know,” he began, his voice quieter now, “you’re not as tough as you pretend to be.”

You raised an eyebrow, but before you could retort, he continued.

“I mean, you act all aloof and mysterious, but you’re one of the kindest people I know. You just don’t let many people see it.”

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Harry’s gaze was steady, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something deeper, something more earnest.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said finally, though your voice lacked its usual bite.

Harry smiled, reaching out to brush a snowflake from your hair. “Sure you don’t.”

The gesture was so simple, so natural, but it sent a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the cold. For the first time, you allowed yourself to meet his gaze fully, and in that moment, everything seemed to shift.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

The realization came slowly, like the first rays of sunlight after a long night. Neither of you said anything right away, but from that day on, the dynamic between you began to change. The teasing became softer, the moments of silence more comfortable. Harry’s golden retriever energy still clashed with your black cat personality, but instead of opposing forces, you began to feel like two halves of a whole.

One evening, as the two of you sat in the common room by the fire, Harry seemed uncharacteristically quiet. You glanced at him, noticing the way his hands fidgeted with the hem of his jumper.

“Alright, Potter. Out with it,” you said, setting your book aside. “What’s going on in that overly active brain of yours?”

He looked up at you, his green eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability you hadn’t seen before. “I... I’ve been thinking,” he began, his voice quieter than usual. “About us.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Us?”

Harry nodded, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I don’t think I’ve ever been very good at hiding how I feel. And when it comes to you... I just can’t pretend anymore.”

Your heart thudded in your chest as he shifted closer, his expression earnest and open. “I care about you. A lot more than just as a friend. You make everything feel... brighter. And I know we’re different, but I think that’s what makes it work. You make me want to be better, and I can’t imagine not having you by my side.”

For a moment, you were silent, the weight of his words sinking in. Harry’s gaze didn’t waver, even as a faint blush crept up his cheeks.

“I... I didn’t think you felt that way,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I was just another friend to you.”

“You’ve never been just another friend,” Harry said firmly. “Not to me.”

Something inside you softened, the walls you’d carefully built around your heart crumbling under the warmth of his words. Tentatively, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his.

“I care about you too, Harry,” you said, a small, genuine smile breaking through your usual reserved demeanor. “More than I realized.”

Relief and joy lit up his face, and before either of you could second-guess, Harry leaned in. His lips met yours, soft and hesitant at first, as if afraid to break the moment. But as you kissed him back, the hesitance melted away, replaced by a warmth that felt like coming home.

When you finally pulled away, Harry rested his forehead against yours, a wide grin on his face. “Well, that’s one mystery solved.”

You laughed softly, your cheeks warm. “You’re impossible, Potter.”

“And you’re perfect,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with affection.

For the first time, you didn’t argue.

Summer had arrived at last, and with it, a welcome break from the hustle and bustle of Hogwarts. You and Harry had been inseparable since that snowy afternoon. The teasing, the gentle banter, the quiet moments of understanding—everything felt like it had fallen into place. But now, as the summer stretched out before you, things had shifted once again. You were no longer just two friends trying to figure things out; you were together, in every sense of the word.

You hadn’t been entirely sure what to expect when Harry came to visit your home for the first time, but here he was, standing on the doorstep of your family’s house, his usual grin brighter than ever. He'd gotten a bit bolder since you’d started dating—especially when it came to little touches, lingering glances, and teasing words that seemed to have a new weight behind them.

“I can't believe you actually live here,” Harry said, looking around at the cozy, quiet neighborhood, his eyes wide with curiosity.

You gave him a playful roll of your eyes as you led him inside. “It's not the Burrow, Potter, but it’s home.”

Your parents weren’t around for the day—out visiting relatives, leaving you with plenty of time to spend with Harry. It was still early, the sun hanging low in the sky, but there was a languid, warm energy in the air. You felt more at ease than you’d ever been before, Harry’s presence at your side a comfort.

Once inside, Harry took off his shoes, following you into the living room. The house was quieter than the bustling castle, the kind of peace you’d grown up with. You gestured to the couch. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ve got a few things to do, but you can, uh, hang out here.”

Harry was already plopping down onto the couch, kicking back with a sigh. “No complaints here. This place is nice.”

You nodded, disappearing for a moment to grab drinks from the kitchen, but when you came back, Harry was looking at you with an unreadable expression.

"Something on your mind?" you asked, arching an eyebrow.

He didn’t answer at first, instead leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping to a hushed, serious tone. "I’ve been thinking a lot about… us." His gaze met yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

You froze for a second, the air between you thickening. You weren't sure if he was being playful, or if he was genuinely serious, but the way he was looking at you sent a thrill running through your chest.

“What do you mean?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Harry smirked but didn’t look away. "Well, we’re not exactly... new to this anymore, are we?"

The playful glint in his eyes made your heartbeat a little faster, but before you could reply, Harry was standing up, crossing the room in a few quick steps. He stopped right in front of you, his eyes trailing over your face as if he was memorizing every inch of you.

He didn’t say anything more. He simply reached out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingertips grazing your skin in a way that made your pulse spike. His hand lingered there for a moment longer than necessary, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure of something,” he whispered, his voice low and thick with meaning.

You didn’t say anything—couldn’t, really. All the thoughts in your head scrambled together as Harry’s lips met yours, soft and tentative at first, but with a hunger that made the world around you blur.

His kiss deepened as he pulled you closer, one hand sliding around your waist, the other moving to the back of your neck, drawing you in even tighter. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the way he seemed to melt into you. You responded in kind, your hands finding the edge of his shirt, fingers brushing against his skin, and the contact made the already suffocating atmosphere feel even more intense.

He pulled away just slightly, enough to breathe. His forehead rested against yours, and you both lingered there for a moment, catching your breath.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Harry murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as his hands traced slow circles on your back.

“Then why wait?” you whispered back, your voice sounding foreign to your own ears.

Without another word, Harry kissed you again, this time more urgently, more desperately, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer. His hands roamed to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel the shift in the energy between you, the building anticipation.

The kiss broke as you both gasped for air, but Harry’s hands found their way to your face again, his touch still as gentle as it was fierce. His eyes locked with yours. "Are you sure?"

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you closed the distance between you again, kissing him with all the emotion, all the longing you’d kept buried for so long.

And in that moment, the world outside the house ceased to exist. It was just you and Harry, tangled together in the quiet intimacy of this new chapter in your relationship. The summer sun streamed through the windows, casting long shadows across the room, but all you could focus on was the feel of his hands on your skin, the warmth of his breath, and the unspoken promise of more to come.

[lelengerine]

pairing. cafe owner!chenle x regular customer!reader

synopsis. chenle might just have a thing for his cafe's regular customer, based on a req!

genre. cafe au, love at first sight mixed with a little puppy love, chenle’s like a goldie retriever here :(( i swear, mentions of food, reader uses she/her pronouns for this one, ft. jisung and jaemin, pls lmk if anything was missed!

wc. 1.0k words

notes. i love this one so much (i say that almost every time i have a new thing written) but it's chenle who are we kidding ofc i have favoritism… slight. likes and feedback are highly appreciated!

m.list

chenle wasn’t the type to hover. 

he trusted his staff—jisung handled the customers, jaemin worked his magic in the kitchen. that left him to observe from the sidelines, content to manage from a comfortable distance. it wasn’t laziness, more like knowing where he fit in the daily rhythm of the café.

but the moment you walked in, everything shifted.

it was nothing special at first. the soft chime of the door, the way the afternoon light caught the edge of your face as you stepped inside, looking around with a quiet curiosity. chenle had been by the counter, flipping absentmindedly through the register logs. he wasn’t paying attention to much until he saw you. it was like the air in the room shifted, pulling his focus to you as if he’d been waiting for something but hadn’t realized it until that moment.

you took a few steps in, glancing at the menu board above the counter. jisung, ever efficient, moved to take your order, but chenle stepped forward without thinking, his voice coming out before he even realized it.

“i’ll take care of it,” he muttered, sliding in front of the lanky boy and ignoring the surprised look thrown in his direction.

jaemin, who was watching from the back with flour dusted on his apron, gave chenle a knowing look, but said nothing.

chenle paid neither of them any attention, turning his gaze to you whose eyes were eagerly scanning the menu above the counter. “what can i get for you?”

you smiled, polite but distant, ordering a cup of mocha latte—voice reaching him in soft but clear syllables. chenle couldn’t help but hold onto each word as you spoke, wanting the moment to stretch just a little longer.

when you took your seat by the window, chenle made your drink himself, pushing aside jisung’s attempts to do his job. it wasn’t even about making the best coffee; it was about making your coffee. a strange feeling stirred in his chest as he watched the milk swirl into the espresso, the heart-shaped foam settling on top with more care than he’d ever thought to put into a simple drink.

it became a routine after that. you came in regularly, and each time, chenle found himself moving before anyone else could. jisung and jaemin didn’t even try to get involved anymore, knowing how stubborn their boss could be. they’d just exchange quiet glances and sometimes a snort of laughter when chenle would rush to be the first to greet you.

he knew your order by heart—mocha latte, no whipped cream, always served in the same spot by the window. he’d bring it to you, trying not to hover too long, hoping each time that maybe this would be the day you’d stay a little longer, or say something more than the usual thank you.

but you never did.

you’d sip your coffee, eyes on your book, and the world outside would blur as you disappeared into your reading. he’d watch, just for a moment, trying to convince himself that the way you quietly smiled to yourself meant something, that maybe you noticed how much care he put into each cup, but weeks passed, and nothing changed. 

you’d finish your drink, leave quietly, and chenle would be left with the echo of your absence. he started to wonder if it had all been in his head—if maybe he’d read too much into your polite smiles and the way you kept coming back. the doubt crept in slowly, like the steady ticking of a clock, until it was all he could think about every time you left without saying more.

today felt the same. you walked in, and he already had your mocha ready before you reached the counter, your usual spot by the window waiting for you. you gave him that same smile, soft and distant, and he tried to hide the way his heart leapt when you looked just a little surprised that he had your drink ready before you asked.

“you remembered,” you said, tone light, almost teasing.

chenle shrugged, trying to seem casual even as his pulse quickened. “it’s not hard. you come in here a lot.”

you laughed—soft, barely more than a breath, but it was enough to make his chest tighten. a small thank you made its way past your lips, and then, just like every other time, you disappeared into your little corner with a book in hand, sipping your drink as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.

chenle watched you from behind the counter, torn between the quiet hope that had kept him going for weeks and the creeping disappointment that maybe, just maybe, this was all it would ever be. the unspoken silence between you stretched on, and by the time you finished your drink, the weight of his thoughts had settled into something heavier.

you left, like always, slipping out the door with only a glance back. chenle sighed, staring at the empty cup you’d left behind. another day, another missed chance. he walked over to clear the table, mind already drifting to the usual routine, until something caught his eye.

a small piece of paper, folded neatly beneath the cup.

he picked it up, his breath catching as he unfolded it, scanning the words quickly, then again, just to be sure he wasn’t imagining it.

i’d like it better if you sat down and ate with me instead of staring from behind the counter next time. my treat, pinky promise.

your phone number was scribbled beneath the note, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

chenle froze for a second, blinking at the piece of paper in disbelief, then suddenly grinned, pumping his fist in the air with a quiet yet triumphant “yes!”

from behind the counter, jisung and jaemin watched him, snickering quietly, exchanging knowing looks.

“has he finally gone insane?” jisung said in a deadpan.

jaemin just shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips. “just let the boy live a little. it’s not always that we catch him like this.”

“that boy is still your boss.”

“eh, he’s still younger than me.”

“your point being…?”

and despite being more than aware of jisung and jaemin’s bickering from behind the counter, chenle didn’t care. all he could think about was the next time you walked in, and how this time, he wouldn’t just be serving you.

this time, he’d be sitting with you.

[incogrio]

omg I loved your soobin fic btw! I was wondering can you do ot5 txt being jealous/protective of the reader?

ot5 - jealousy, jealousy

pairing: ot5 x reader (separately)

genre: fluff, bit of smut and angst

synopsis: how the members show jealousy!

warnings: jealousy, possessiveness, smut, anger etc!

a/n: thank you so much for the request!! hope u enjoy!! this isn’t proof read don’t kill me pls!!

yeonjun:

i feel as though yeonjun would show his jealousy in a more whiney manner

like, he wouldn’t outright say anything to you or the person making him jealous in the moment

i imagine you’re also an idol, maybe even in txt and an interviewer makes comments about your appearance and how you’re the most desirable of the group

yeonjun, being ever professional simply smiles and laughs

lingers behind you as you reject the guy once the cameras are off

but after… he’ll come to you like a big baby all like

“he flirted with you right in front of meeeee..!!” he’d whine out with a slight high pitched tone as he tucked his head into your neck

“i rejected him, i only want you jjunie,” you’d reassure

only for him to respond with, “but i was right thereeeee!!! don’t i look boyfriend enough!!!!” and his perfect lips would form a perfect pout and you couldn’t resist but to kiss his sad face away :(

that would most likely lead to him smiling against your lips and the craziest sex ever.. like full on

“bet he has a smaller dick than me, huh? bet he couldn’t make you drool the way i do. he wishes he could see you like this doesn’t he? too bad only i can see you all disheveled.. only me, right baby? just daddy right?”

yes jjunie has a daddy kink argue with the WALL.

as for what made him jealous, i think he’s a little crazy and would be annoyed when someone so much as looks at you for too long

he would never blame you or your outfit, simply the pervs who wish they could have you

thinks it’s funny whenever you’re jealous, doesn’t really see that he’s just as hot as you

also finds it crazy that you’d think he’d want anyone else

just remind him that you only want him and kiss his pouty lips and maybe give him a blowjob and he’ll be fine…

until you do promotions again

soobin:

sigh… loser soobie doobie.

i feel like soobie would be annoyed by it if anything

also VERY passive aggressive

let’s say you’re in a library, looking at a book that you might want

a rando comes up mansplaining the novel you’re holding and soobin comes up behind you like 😒🤨

FR LOOKS AT HIM WITH SUCH DISGUST.

yall know that clip of him during that live where he’s looking at the members w that disgusted look? yeah that’s him rn

the guy reaches forward to touch your arm all like “i just think this book might be too complicated for you”

ha. ha ha. soobin pulls you back into his chest before the guy can touch you and looks at him so angrily. “they’re fine. they can pick their own book.” he says it with such an eerily calm tone despite his aggressive gum chewing and fingertips digging slightly into your waist.

mf just gives an awkward smile, raises his hands in surrender and walks away

soobin literally mutters “pussy” under his breath LMFAO

he doesn’t really say much after that, only keeping a hand on you till you get to the car

“bunny, do you think i should read this book or this one first?” you ask, lifting up both books as he pulls out of the parking lot.

he rolls his eyes slightly, driving (hotly) and looking only at the road before saying: ���dunno. ask your new book expert boyfriend.”

you literally have to stifle your laugh. for soobie, he’s a sucker for your cuteness

soooo u just pout at him cutely and rest your elbow on the console and your head in your hand

“don’t be mad bunny… only want you :(“

he does that thing where he smiles and pokes his tongue to his cheek in faux annoyance (i’m horny)

just smiles and shakes his head, reaching to you and holding your thigh tightly, you rest your hand on his

he may seem all tough right now, but don’t worry soon you’ll have him tied up and whimpering after making him cum over and over to make sure he knows his worth 💋

tbh seems like the type to bring it up randomly too LMFAOO

beomgyu:

beomgyu… hehehe

i imagine this to happen outside of a food truck

he’s waiting w you, probably talking to you about something stupid and you suddenly get a poke on the shoulder

you turn around, and beomgyu looks with you and sees a guy

as you’re rejecting the guy, gyu is literally snickering and giggling to himself

you are so embarrassed by him this mf is literally cackling

you’d think there was a witch behind you

the guy is definitely STILL in earshot as he walks away dejectedly, and beomgyu immediately giggling and smoothly tugging you to be in his arms

“did you see his face???? he thought he had a chance w you???!!! my girl?? yahhhgh!!! he’s soooo stupid!” he says all loudly and dramatically. he has that little smirk on his face as he says this, but has his arms tightly around you as though the guy would come and kidnap you

you see behind the facade, simply reaching up and pressing a kiss to his lips. “only want you,” you mutter, and he hums and smiles against your lips

“ahhh i knowww!! that’s why it’s so funny!”

he’d rather die than admit insecurity in the middle of a goddamn food truck line.

probably doesn’t talk about it until it’s late at night and you’re cuddled in bed

he might even start crying :(

for gyu, i don’t see sex being a good reassurance thing for him

i think he’d prefer to just sit with you, watching a bad movie and making fun of it together

randomly kissing you and every time you know what he wants to hear: “only want you, bear”

if you were to fuck, he’d deffo want to eat you out

“only i can taste this pussy, only your bear,” he’d grumble as you twist his long hair in your fingers, tugging him closer to your sopping cunt

taehyun:

mickey mouse voice: oh boy!

if you think you’re getting any other reaction other than silence, you’re WRONG.

hmmm let’s say you’re at the gym, watching him work out bc wow free show

at one point he walks away to grab weights from the other side of the gym and you wait for him to come back

suddenly, a sweaty yucky man is getting closer to you, and oh wow look he’s staring at you

as taehyun turns around, he sees you talking to him but doesn’t really mind because he knows you’re his

but then he gets closer and hears the guy complimenting your body… he just pauses for a second, making brief eye contact w you and continuing to set up his little work out thing (i don’t work out can u tell)

he knows you’ll tell the guy why you’re actually here

“so… why don’t we go grab protein shakes after you finish working out?” you wanted to scream. you were wearing jeans. WHO WORKS OUT IN JEANS?? you hadn’t touched a single machine and you hate protein shakes. is this guy a dunce.

“oh no thank you, i’m here to watch my boyfriend. he’s right there,” you point at tae, who is now bench pressing over 100 pounds and woah.. hehe

yeah no the guy could not have left faster. tae still doesn’t say anything.

you keep watching him, now sitting on the floor until he gets up from the bench and sits in front of you

before you can ask, he gestures for you to hold his feet and starts doing sit ups

except, after the first one, he starts puckering his lips when he sits up

oh!

sit up after sit up, he kisses you as he comes back up

he literally did over one hundred and you were drunk on him by the time he finished

his way of staking his claim i suppose… probably made sure that the guy was watching too

tbh… that’s all the reaction you’re gonna get

after, you ask why he didn’t say anything and he just shrugs and is like, “i know you’re mine. and you know i’m yours. i don’t need to prove anything.”

then you’re like, “so why did you do the sit up thing”

“i was horny.” you literally choke on your smoothie

when you guys get home he definitely fucks you but not super roughly or anything… super romantically actually

his thought process, conscious or not, is: you could go out and fuck someone and they’d do it emotionlessly. he’s going to fuck you like you built the very universe your souls found each other in. (you did)

huening kai:

just a warning… he’s my bias so this might be a little crazy

you’re in a grocery store, he seems like one of those cringy bfs who’s steer the cart but have you in between him and the cart

i want him.

every few moments he’d press a kiss to your hair or simply lean down and have his face near yours until you got the hint

his chest is against your back… his huge broad chest… i’m ill.

OKAY LET ME GET TO THE ACTUAL JEALOUSY PART

okay so you guys stopped to look at the cereal because you wanted to get the one w his face

as you’re looking, hueningie squats down and checks the very bottom shelf

and thus, the worker that goes up to you does not see him

“hey! you need any help over here?” you look over, pointing to yourself in silent question. the guy nods. kai is immediately tuned into the convo as he pretends to look for more cereal

“hm? oh no! we’re good, just looking for a specific cereal,” you remain vague as to not reveal kai’s identity.

lol imagine you’re like “yeah my bf has a cereal w his face on it! yeah my bf who’s a famous idol!” LMFAOO

the guy nods, and you think the convo is over so you keep looking for cereal as you reach down and pet kai’s hair absentmindedly. you don’t know how reassuring it is to him.

“okay well… i just saw you and thought you were so super cute. like.. how do you not have a boyfriend?”

“i do actually,” you respond without evening looking at him. you tug kai’s hair, silently telling him to make himself known. he gets up, all six feet and muscles wearing a fitted top so you could see all of his strength and hard work as an idol.

“they’re not here,” he says plainly, without the usual sweet tone he’d give you. he also doesn’t even look at the worker.

the guy doesn’t even have enough time to apologize before kai’s leading you and the cart elsewhere. he gets quiet, but a different quiet to the other members. a sad one.

the moment you get home, he breaks down

he sobs, barely able to get out the fact that he doesn’t understand why you’re with him, why you wouldn’t want someone w a normal life, someone who’s more attractive (no such thing), someone who could love you publically

oh my baby :(((((

you pull him into a hug, his head ducking to be hidden in your neck, reassuring him quietly.

“huening… i promise you, you are the most attractive man on earth to me.” you say sternly, “the universe, even. it pains me that you can’t see that. i don’t want anyone else, just you, hyuka. and i love you enough to endure the fact that you can’t be public with us.”

he’s just whining now, not responding. he’s holding you so tightly that you’d think you’d turn into thin air.

after a lot of cuddles with his plushies, he’s okay :)

but then his members come home and see the tear stains on his face

they don’t know what happened and call him a baby and make a bunch of maknae jokes

yeah that’s the last straw. he takes you to his room and shoves you onto the bed (makes sure that not only are you comfy, but also that all his plushies are turned away)

he fucks you until you’ve both cum at least 4 times, and he’s borderline shooting blanks.

he’s moaning so loud, hips are shaking as he keeps pumping into you, filling you up

you’re even louder, legs shaking and hands pushing against his stomach in a faux plead for him to stop

every so often, he’d say something like, “not a fucking baby,” oh negative kai i want you.

“could a baby maknae fuck you like this? oh fuck honey, clench me like that. could that guy at the store make you shake like this? hm?

OH BROTHER!!

yeah neither of you can walk after that. and the members for SURE heard your moans and are now never calling him a baby ever again

unless he does aegyo bc come ON he’s baby then

probably becomes an inside joke between you guys

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[themoonlitquill]

Whispers Woven in Shadow. (3/?)

𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙝 𝘼𝙧𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙣 𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧? 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚? 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚? 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮.

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 ; 𝖠𝗓𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗅 𝗑 𝖥𝖾𝗆!𝖮𝖢 (𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 ; I seriously cannot thank ya’ll enough for ALLLL the love!! 😭 I’m blown away! Honestly. I’m really happy and I’ve been BUZZING. EEEE! So, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It took me a little longer because I wanted to get it just right and I think this is the closest I could. 😬 Also!! I made the visual up above (I made Pinterest boards too PLS FMDKDKKD) and the filter is called ‘tardiness’ by @elliesnovella on Insta! ENJOY. 🩵

𝖳𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ; 𝗠𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 (𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗳), 𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿-𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗺𝗼𝗶𝗹, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 (𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁) 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁𝘆 𝘀𝗮𝗱.

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 ; 4116.

Two days had passed and Ariadne still hadn’t tried talking to anyone else.

Except for the shadow when it came to check in on her - at least, that’s what she assumed it was doing - and herself, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary.

She thought about trying with Nesta first and then quickly took that right off the list when she had stopped by to bring a few books she thought her sister might like, only to be glared at and the stack snatched from her arms with the door slamming seconds after.

Nesta had taken the books though.

And that was something.

Then she considered Elain, who was marked off even quicker than Nesta. Their rooms were connected and when Ariadne had knocked, the door flew open to reveal the eldest Archeron with her blue eyes seeming to glow and had spoken in a tone so sharp that it made her ears ring.

She wasn’t great at lip reading - everyone always spoke too fast - but she managed to catch ‘leave’ and judging by the vitriol in her sister’s expression, she guessed it wasn’t a particularly pleasant string of words; it led to her decision of staying away for a while.

That’s when she found herself thinking of Feyre and how much she missed her.

Ariadne knew that she would be the first to want to try, to actually be able to talk instead of half-relayed messages on paper, and yet, it wasn’t possible. Because Feyre had gone with… What was his name? The High Lord of Spring. Timothy? Yeah, okay. Either way, her sister had left, with no clue as to when she’d be coming back.

It was an ever-present ache in Ariadne’s chest and no matter how hard she tried, it wouldn’t go away.

You need to get out of this room. You’re suffocating in here and the more you think, the more you’ll drive yourself insane, she blows a huff through her nose, finding she was annoyed with herself, which was worse than being annoyed at someone else in her opinion. Just get up and leave. Go explore! Do something! Anything!

Her thumb and index finger reach up to pinch the bridge of her nose as she releases an exasperated sigh; she stands from the seat by the window and follows her own advice, leaving the damn room and storming off towards the library.

No one would bother her there.

Ariadne throws open the doors with all her strength and strides over to the armchair she always sat in, plopping down with a second huff, brow furrowed. She hated being at war with herself because she couldn’t get away from herself. So, she tended to avoid the things that frustrated her the most, which almost never worked out.

Maybe on a special occasion, if there was such a thing.

But usually, she ended up doing what she tried to avoid and always searched for a place of solitude. The irony was not lost on her; the deaf girl looking to be in an even quieter place, having found comfort in the isolated silence. It would make her laugh if she thought she was capable of it anymore.

And now?

It was like she couldn’t sit still no matter what and she wanted to be around people. She didn’t even care who it was, but it seemed that she was the only one wandering around here since her sisters refused to come out, which limited the available options.

Ariadne closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, willing herself to relax her mind so it didn’t explode from the pressure building; it made it more difficult to focus and all she wanted was for it to go away. She needed to scream and she couldn’t do that, not now, not again.

Deep breaths, Ari. You’re fine. Relax. I promise, she swallows dryly and picks at the skin around her fingers, wishing for any sort of distraction. Feyre will come back and everything will be alright. She’ll listen. You’ll have her to talk to. Even if it isn’t all the time, it’s still something.

She flexes her hands to stop the incessant bad habit and then smooths them over the satin fabric of the pants she wore, the cool texture against her palms paired with the motion actually managing to soothe her.

See? You’re okay. Got all worked up for nothing, Ariadne takes a breath, then another, and tilts her head, the air around her shifting, tickling her skin. A sigh of relief emits from her lips and the opalescent wall in her mind begins to tremble, the doorway appearing more quickly than it ever had.

Everything rushes out of her at once. “I’m glad you’re here, thank that blasted Cauldron! I couldn’t stay in that room any longer. I couldn’t! Where have you been? I haven’t seen you all day!”

Nothing.

Silence.

“You can talk.”

Everything freezes.

That wasn’t the shadow, no, in fact, that was the furthest thing from the shadow.

Her eyes snap open and a soft whoosh leaves her as she stares directly into hazel tinged with gold - rimmed with lashes that even Nesta would be jealous of - and held a mixture of shock, curiosity, and something else that she wasn’t quite sure of.

It was Azriel.

She had just spoken to Azriel.

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

Ariadne couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything other than stare. What had she just done? He wasn’t supposed to be the first one she revealed this to! It was supposed to be Feyre - the one person who always cared about what she wanted and what mattered to her - and even if she had to wait to do it, she knew it was going to be perfectly fine and now that was all over with.

It was supposed to be Feyre. This was all wrong!

“You’re a Daemati,” Azriel’s voice rolls in and she’s actually able to hear it inside her head, as clearly as her own. It was low, deep, velvety, and her breath hitches; it wasn’t like the shadow’s whisper at all, instead, there was quiet authority laced in his tone and a richness that reminded her of a thick chocolate, though there was a slight edge that emanated a danger of the lethal kind. It was… It was beautiful.

“Yes,” Ariadne blinks and watches him as he watches her, noting that even in the crouched position he was in, he still remained a respectable enough distance away. “A new one.”

His head tilts and the shadows around his shoulder flourish about excitedly. With a subtle tug, he manages to reel them in and give his full attention to the Archeron sister who had managed to take him completely by surprise, which wasn’t exactly easy to do. “You seem to be doing pretty well.”

She falls silent for a moment, unsure how to proceed. Talking with the shadow hadn’t been hard at all and now she felt like a fish out of water, flopping around and utterly devoid of any semblance of words; she didn’t know what to do.

Azriel waits patiently with his elbows rested on his knees, deducting that this must be even more jarring to her than it was for him. He wasn’t impatient by any means and had no intention to rush her.

“I’ve been practicing,” Ariadne finally responds, a single hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind one of her delicately pointed ears and he tracks the movement without her notice.

“Have you?”

She nods her head, clasping her hands back together. “The basics. Opening and closing the door, some organizing,” her thumb brushes over her knuckles. Why was she so nervous? There was no way she’d ever feel this way if it were Feyre. That had to be it; Ariadne just didn’t know Azriel, if she did, there wouldn’t be any of this feeling. “But no knowledge of obliterating minds. I don’t want to do that.”

The corner of Azriel’s lips twitch. She was different than he expected and it piqued his interest, making him wonder what else there might be. “It would be a good idea to learn regardless.”

“And if I did, who would I ask, Shadowmaster? You? Rhysand? Feyre isn’t here, you know,” she levels him with a look and his eyebrows raise before there’s a deep rumbling in her head, rich, warm, and sending a shiver down the length of her spine. What was that? A laugh? Maybe? If it was, she wasn’t sure why, which brought back the annoyed expression on her face. “What’s so funny?”

He works to suppress the smile struggling to show itself, though the amusement was definitive. “I’m the Shadowmaster now?”

Azriel watches keenly as Ariadne’s narrowed eyes widen a fraction, realization setting in, and she tenses slightly, breath stilling, and he finds himself feeling a sense of relief when she inhales. She sits up straighter and her voice fills his head as it had before; tentative and unsure, then flowing in like a whisper of moonlight, luminescent, gentle and fleeting.

“I mixed up your titles, didn’t I? I did it twice,” a frown tugs at the corners of her mouth and he doesn’t like the way it settles so quickly, appearing too comfortable. “That would make you the Spymaster and a Shadowsinger.”

“I think I like Shadowmaster better.”

Surprise flashes across her face before she relaxes a little, though there was still an uneasiness in the way she swallowed, and how her eyes flitted to him and then to her hands and back again. Azriel wasn’t sure what was bothering her so badly that it was lingering around, but it left a bad taste on his tongue.

“But you can call me Azriel.”

Ariadne blinks, noting the subtle hopefulness that was woven into his tone and finding that curious. Wouldn’t everyone call him that? “Azriel,” his shadows slither towards her, reaching for her ankles when they suddenly retreat and she tilts her head. “Why did you do that?”

His eyes seem to glow a little more golden then and they remind her of the sunrise peeking over a lush forest.

“Do what?”

“Pull them away from me.”

Azriel falls silent and his shoulders move, signifying he had taken a deep breath. Why? He stands from the crouched position and Ariadne leans forward suddenly, which is strange because what was she going to do? Follow him? He turns around and starts walking away, causing a pang to hit her chest, and she digs her nails into her skin. “Wait! I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to assume anything. I just thought that you commanded the shadows and I didn’t want you to think they scare me because they don’t. I actually think they’re very sweet.”

He moves further and her heart drops to her stomach; she had managed to drive away the first person she talked to because she had said the wrong thing.

How could this happen so fast? Was she really so bad?

Ariadne gnaws on her inner lower lip, thinking over how she should have worded it differently or if maybe she was too invasive? The shadows were his and he could do whatever he wanted to with them. It wasn’t any of her business.

If Azriel didn’t want them to touch her, then that was his right.

A flash of black catches her eye and she blinks, head lifting to find that the Shadowsinger had grabbed the other armchair and dragged it until it was only a few feet away from hers, now sitting with his wings lifted up over the back so they wouldn’t be crushed under his weight. His gaze finds hers, brow raising as he leans to the left with his arm rested on the chair and the other at his side, gloved hand on his thigh.

“I do and I don’t. They came to me and chose to listen to what orders I give. Though, I prefer to think of them as requests. They’re smarter than most people think and that actually ends up being a benefit to me and the work I do for Rhys,” Azriel dips his head, a few shadows curling around the arch of his wings, movements fluid as they swirl and reminding her of falling feathers dancing. “They’re meant to be kept close in case I need them. Good to know what you think of them though,” his lips curve slightly. “Does that answer your question?”

It did and it didn’t; there was still the unanswered one of why he felt the need to keep them from her. Surely she couldn’t be that big of a distraction? And if they had come to him willingly, shouldn’t they be allowed to have a bit of leeway too? The understanding of it all was just out of her reach and she desperately wished she could grab and hold onto it.

Ariadne sits back in the chair and pulls her legs underneath her, deciding to keep it to herself. This could possibly be the start of something great and she refused to ruin it, especially when she had never had an actual friend before.

“Yes,” No. She taps her finger on her knee. “What sort of work do you do?”

Azriel watches the subtle shifts in her expression - a twitch of her brow before they came together, the way her bottom lip moved as she bit the inside, and how her eyelashes fluttered across her cheeks like butterfly wings when she seemed to fall into her thoughts - and feels something stir inside of him.

Almost like being asleep for a long time and finally starting to wake up.

“Gathering intel, observing, and making sure that we know everything we can that goes on in other Courts,” his wings stretch outwards a little and her eyes roam over the movement, noting the scars that were littered across the membranes and she can’t help but be reminded of the horror back in Hybern, how he must of suffered in agony with no way to get out of it. “When I can’t be somewhere, I send the shadows and they bring back what they find.”

“Do you like doing all of that?”

“It keeps me busy.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

Azriel didn’t know what to say to that.

Everyone in the Inner Circle knew what he did and had to do, but no one had ever pursued the topic any further, having figured if he wanted to tell them, he would.

And here comes this little Fae, asking because she… what? Because she wanted to? The idea was ridiculous and yet, Azriel found himself unsure and it was disconcerting.

He takes a breath, weighing over his thoughts and debating on how to word what he wanted to say. “Sometimes it’s difficult. There are certain things,” flashes of Truth-Teller slicing into flesh, crimson dripping onto the floor, the sound of screams, and his jaw tightens. “That I have to do and a certain way of doing them that isn’t always my favorite.”

Ariadne tilts her head. There was a darkness swirling within the gold that wasn’t there before and it was clear that there was a lot more to it than that. She wanted to know what he had to do that would make him this haunted and she came to the conclusion that it must be awful, which didn’t sit well with her. Did no one bother to ask? Did no one bother to even try?

A part of her wanted to ask Azriel herself, but how in the stupid Cauldron was she supposed to do that? Would it be over-stepping? How should she say it? What if it made him angry? Or upset? She didn’t want to do that to him.

But she wanted to know.

There was something telling her that she needed to and it was yet another thing that she didn’t understand, so she decided to just go with it like she did everything else until she had the answers.

“There are certain things that I don’t like to remember either. Particularly how they made me feel,” Ariadne swallows, using the pad of her thumb to rub small circles into the back of her hand. “Everything else is heightened since I can’t hear in a normal way and that isn’t always a good thing,” she takes a deep breath, skin prickling. “It makes the pain worse.”

Her body shifts and she lifts her chin to find that Azriel’s shadows were whipping around his back and shoulders - movements a bit wilder than they usually were - with the tips refined into razor sharp points; they seemed ready to cause some serious damage and she wished she could smooth her hands over them, if only to calm.

“I do know if I leave it alone for too long, that it’ll be harder for me to deal with when the time comes,” her eyes trail along each obsidian tendril, noting that they were shaking, blurring slightly at the edges. “I’m not ready for it right now, but I’m hoping that one day I will be. Even if it hurts, I know it’s something I have to do,” she marvels at the way they flow through the air, like water down a stream, and a soft hum emits from her throat.

“I think it’s something we all have to do at some point,” Ariadne tears her eyes away from the shadows in search of that golden hue to find that Azriel was already looking at her. She inhales. “No matter if we hate it,” she exhales. “No matter if it isn’t our favorite.”

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

Azriel couldn’t remember the last time someone had stunned him into silence; as a matter of fact, he didn’t think it had ever happened before, which was a complete conundrum and left his mind in a scramble and it was the most unorthodox thing he had ever experienced.

How?

Why?

There was something about Ariadne that was different from her sisters, a secret locked away with a hidden key, and the Shadowsinger wanted to dive into every square inch of her mind until he knew everything that there was to know about her.

He already knew she was intuitive and witty, genuine, perceptive, curious - soft - and probably one of the most intelligent people he’d ever met, which he would be sure to keep from Rhys lest he fall into his usual flair for the dramatics.

But he wanted to know more.

Because as soon as Azriel thought he had a good grip on who he thought she was, the little thing slipped through his fingers and changed direction.

And now he couldn’t form words into a sentence that would make sense of what he wished to say to her, coming up short several times and beginning to get frustrated with the whole ordeal. He wanted to keep the line of communication open and have her presence so near to his, and it seemed that his desire for that was what was making his mind draw blanks.

If this were to happen with Rhys or Cass, he would’ve left the room by now.

Azriel quickly discovered that was the last thing he wanted to do where Ariadne was concerned.

So he stayed.

His shadows had settled and he marveled at the warmth of her honey-eyed gaze and the featherlight caress of her whisper, which seemed to be soothing them and causing their own anger to ebb away like the tide; it took him by surprise - he sensed a theme here - and he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

They were an extension of Azriel, every part of them intertwined with him, and no one had ever had such an influence before.

How is it possible? What does it mean? He didn’t have the answers and it made him want to question everything until he finally got them.

“That’s easier said than done,” is what he responds with, tone a bit gruffer than usual.

Ariadne’s expression shifts to a mixture of perplexity and mirth, the corners of her mouth twitching and she purses her lips. “I never said it would be easy, Shadowsinger. You have to put in the effort if you want the results.”

A single brow raises. “You seem to have all the answers.”

“Not hardly, but I can read people fairly well and I can tell that you’ve never considered it before.”

She was right. He hadn’t.

Azriel readjusts his position and leans forward in the chair, elbows resting on his knees as the gold swirls around his irises. “You really aren’t afraid.”

Her brow mimics the action of his, the amusement still tugging at her lips, though she manages to keep it at bay. “Do I have a reason to be?”

He tracks the movement and finds himself wishing that she would show her smile, wanting to see how it changed her expression; if it would make her eyes light up as joy filtered through or if it would disappear quicker than a blink and have him eager for the day that he could stop, stare, and admire the beauty of it.

“No,” his wings unfurl to stretch and he stands, having made a decision to keep her in his orbit for just a while longer. “You might change your mind eventually, but we can revisit after.”

Confusion flashes across her face. “After what?”

“We’re going to have dinner. You have to eat, don’t you?”

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

This is bizarre, isn’t it? Ariadne stares at the notebook in her lap, quill poised between her fingers. All of this.

She had, in fact, had dinner with Azriel and she was still reeling a bit; the house had provided soup and sandwiches, along with her usual tea, and even a plate of lemon bars that she actually decided to try, which was a good idea because they were delicious. It was sour and sweet and citrusy, and it made her tongue tingle.

Azriel kept the conversation focused on her and it was strange. She didn’t know if there was a line for how much she was allowed to reveal considering she’d never had to worry about it before, so she tried to pull the detail back in her answers as much as she could, not wanting to overwhelm him or ramble or do anything to offend.

And that was the part that left her utterly confused; he seemed to be disappointed in what she said and it didn’t make sense because why?

Wasn’t polite conversation supposed to be light? Simple?

That’s what she had gathered from Elain over the years and it seemed to work just fine, so what was the problem?

It seems like a balancing act, Ariadne doodles a crescent moon into the top right corner and allows herself to work through it. You don’t want to tell too much because that would be an overload of information and no one wants that, she adds a couple stars. But you also don’t want to give too little because that would be boring and no one wants that either.

She writes her name in the center before boldening the ‘A.’

You need to give just enough so it stays flowing and keeps the interest there. See, a balancing act! Makes sense. It’s okay, you didn’t know. You’re learning, aren’t you? Don’t expect to be perfect the first time around. That isn’t realistic and you know it.

A drop of ink falls from the tip of the quill and soaks into the page, ruining the ‘A’ and she releases a huff as she shuts the notebook and sets it on the bedside table.

Today was a lot. That’s all. You need to try and sleep or at the very least, rest your eyes. Start again tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll feel better about everything then. Maybe. A little bit.

Ariadne leans against the headboard and stretches her legs out in front of her, wiggling her toes that were dressed in fuzzy socks and wishing more than anything that she knew the things she was missing. It was a hindrance and above all else, it was annoying.

Stop it. More has happened in the last three days than you’re used to and it’s impossible for you to go through it for the fifth time when you’re this tired.

She finally closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths, willing her thoughts to stop running wild so she’d be able to steal a couple hours before the nightmares came.

The questions, the shadow, the knowledge of Daemati and what she could now do, Nesta and Elain, Feyre, and everything else could wait.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ; @ashblooddragons , @rcarbo1 , @waytoomanyteenagefeels , @prettylittlewrites , @tele86 , @missxmarvelous , @herondale-lightworm .

[anonymousewrites]

One Hell of a Love (Book 3) Chapter Seven

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Chapter Seven: One Hell of a Celebration

Summary: It's the night before the Cricket Tournament, but a celebration just means more work (and bothers) for (Y/N) and Sebastian.

            “My, how handsome you look tonight, Mr. Noir,” said Sebastian playfully as (Y/N) entered the hall hosting the June third celebration of the Interhouse Cricket Tournament.

            (Y/N) smirked. “Thank you, Mr. Michaelis. You look quite dashing yourself.”

            They both wore their housemaster uniforms, but (Y/N) had traded their robes for some embroidery at the ends, and their suit vest was more decorative than usual. Sebatian had traded his cross for a more decorative one—the most ironic change a demon could make.

            “Now, shall we take our places for the opening speech?” said Sebastian.

            “We shall,” said (Y/N).

            They walked to their spots at the front of the crowd with their fellow housemasters, each itching to reach out and hold the other’s hand. On the dais before them, Agares stood and looked out over the crowd. He cleared his throat, and all of the guests quieted. This was the one event where outsiders could come to the college, and so there were a variety of people—family and highly connected businessmen—milling about in formal attire (fortunately, (Y/N) and Sebastian had yet to bump into the Midfords or anyone else who might notice them).

            “I do beg your pardon for interrupting your conversations, ladies and gentlemen,” said Agares. “Hello, everyone. I welcome you all and thank you for attending the opening ceremony of our storied Fourth of June Cricket Tournament. I am delighted to once again be able to hold the tournament this year. Please enjoy the festivities this tournament’s eve.” He cleared his throat. “Now then…” He threw out a hand dramatically. “Team representatives of each house, come forth!”

            The sound of heavy marching approaching the doors of the hall, and the crowd gasped.

            “What’s going on?!”

            “The floor, it’s shaking?!”

            The doors flung wide open.

            “Here they come!” cried the younger students. “Their overwhelming physical prowess and teamwork are second to none!”

            “Absolute champions, top of the world—the Green Lions!”

            Each member of Green house wore gleaming armor and green tunics. A cap fluttered over Greenhill’s shoulders, and he carried a torch. Edward and other members of the house carried Green Lion flags. Everyone was serious and carried themselves nobly.

            “Big brother! You look so handsome!” cheered a familiarly bubbly voice from within the crowd, and (Y/N) and Sebastian smothered chuckles as Edward’s face turned red in embarrassment.

            “I remember wearing armor like that,” said (Y/N). They sighed. “Awfully cumbersome. Not my style at all.”

            Sebatian chuckled.

            A moment after Green House took their places in the hall, rose petals flew through the air. The crowd gasped, and the women began whispering.

            “Look!” exclaimed students. “It’s the second-place house that drove Green House into a corner last year! Captivating spectators with their elegant plays!”

            “Brillian Eden, garden of fine plays—the Scarlet Foxes!”

            Dressed in kingly regalia, the Red House entered. Holding a candelabra in one hand and a rose in the other, Redmond entered with a smirk. Scarlet robes draped over ornate clothing, and behind him, the members of his house smiled sweetly at the crowd with roses and banners raised high. They looked every bit the lords they one day would be. As they passed through the crowd, women swooned, and various house members kissed hands and greeted all who saw them in a gentlemanly, albeit flirtatious, manner.

            “I once wore such clothing,” said Sebastian fondly. “I was able to order others around to my heart’s content, and I played my role well.”

            “What type of contract asked for that?” said (Y/N), raising a brow.

            “An ambitious woman looked to take a throne for herself and needed someone to act as king,” said Sebastian.

            (Y/N) smirked slightly at the idea of the power imbalance that usually kept women from advancing in society as they wished to turn on its head. That was their favorite type of contract.

            Sebastian was pleased to see (Y/N)’s approval of his contract. They were both unique in having personal principles over the types of contracts they took, so it wasn’t strange to compare why they had taken certain masters over the years.

            Fwoosh!

            The lights of the hall went out, and everyone jumped. In the empty doorway, a single torch lit, and the flame danced in the darkness. Smoke filtered into the room.

            “Could this be?!” exclaimed shaky voices. “The house team they say throws their opponents into confusion with unpredictable trick plays?”

            “The swarming specters of the ghost legion—the Violet Wolves!”

            From the middle of the crowd, Purple House appeared. Everyone jumped as the figures, cloaked in black and carrying lanterns carved into skulls, moved among them.

            “Very sorcerer-like,” said Sebastian. “Or should I say witch?” He smirked.

            (Y/N) tutted and shook their head, not dignifying that with a response.

            “They’re at their tricks from the start, what with not coming in through the doors…” said a few frightened patrons.

            Fwee!

            Everyone looked up as the lights were lit once more and owls soared into the hall.

            “Those birds are…”

            “That house, is it?”

            “Though their physical strength may leave much to be desired, they aim for an opportunity to win the championship with their strategic game plans…”

            “Attack of the cornered rats, God only knows—the Sapphire Owls.”

            Blue House stepped into the hall. Each wore long blue robes and carried an owl perched on their arm. Scholarly caps rested on their head, and Bluewer held a staff with a lantern atop it.

            Everyone clapped as they passed, but after the tepid introduction, the arrival felt somewhat unimpressive (though, what did they expect as the house that came last every year?).

            “Ciel! You look absolutely charming! Give it your best!” cheered Elizabeth.

            Ciel blushed, and (Y/N) and Sebastian chuckled.

            After all the houses took their places, the P4 stepped up to a large firepit, each holding their lantern, candle, or torch.

            “Now!” Agares raised his hand. “Light the flame of Saint George!”

            “We the players—” began Greenhill.

            “—in accordance with the great tradition of Weston College—” continued Bluewer.

            “—shall fight fair and square until the very end—” added Redmond.

            “—this we do solemnly swear,” finished Violet.

            The large cup lit on fire, and the flames curled up into the air. Everyone cheered and clapped, and the players whooped.

            “Now, I do hereby declare open the Interhouse Cricket Tournament of 1889!” announced Agares. “Tomorrow will surely be a day of fierce battles. So please enjoy this evening’s opening festivities to your heart’s content.”

            The crowd applauded as Agares walked off the dais. The instant he stepped onto the stairs, he tripped and tumbled down. The crowd gasped.

            “Vice Headmaster?!” cried another housemaster.

            “Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me,” said Agares, standing.

            Sebastian frowned. Once again, the vice principal had fallen and acted strangely.

            However, the party began to really grow into a proper celebration. Purple House crowded around a table, and people fearfully avoided them. Green House eagerly ate to gain strength for the coming day. Red House instantly mingled with the crowd—mostly eager women.

            “Hmph, what a very relaxed bunch,” said Bluewer. “Blue House, we will hold a meeting to perfect our strategy. We cannot afford to waste even a minute.”

            “Understood!” said Blue House.

            “Don’t be such a bore.” A woman put her hand on Bluewer’s shoulder. “Let down your hair a bit, why don’t you?”

            Bluewer jumped as seven women, a few older and a few younger, surrounded him. “Big sister?”

            “Let your hair down, let your hand down!” chanted two younger girls.

            “Look at you acting all high and mighty when you’re the exact opposite at home,” teased another sister.

            “The little boy who would always play house with me has grown up to be a prefect. How perfectly novel!” laughed another woman.

            “Big sister!” Poor Bluewer was red with embarrassment. “Please stop with the unnecessary commentary and go over there, would you?”

            “ ‘Unnecessary?!’ ” exclaimed another sister. “How dare you?!”

            “Ah, how do you do, everyone?” said a sister, smiling kindly. “Thank you for treating our little brother kindly.”

            “Big brother, where’s Lord Edgar?” chirped another girl.

            The entire picture of Bluewer trying to fend off his seven sisters was quite entertaining, and the Sapphire Owl house members were fighting not to chuckle at their prefect.

            (Y/N) and Sebastian smirked in amusement before speaking to the guests around them, mingling like model housemasters. Sebastian was irked by the several women who flirted with (Y/N). To the women, they were the ideal husband—attractive, intelligent, and gentile. Sebastian, too, was experiencing his fair amount of advances, but he was not paying them any mind and was instead busy to ensuring that any private conversation women attempted to have with (Y/N) was interrupted. What could Sebastian say? He was a jealous lover.

            “You seem quite intent on interrupting my discussions, Mr. Michaelis,” said (Y/N), smirking as they were drawn away from yet another unmarried lady.

            “I’m sure it was hardly stimulating conversation, Mr. Noir,” said Sebastian, raising a brow.

            (Y/N) tutted and shook their head in amusement, knowing full well they’d use this emotion to their benefit later—when they had privacy.

            Speaking of jealousy, Ciel had been cornered by a few of Bluewer’s sisters, who were analyzing his position as a potential suitor, and Elizabeth had immediately interceded.

            “Pleased to make your acquaintance, everyone!” she said formally, if not forcefully. “I am Ciel’s bride-to-be, Elizabeth.”

            Edward lunged and throttled poor Ciel for daring to hurt his sister’s feelings.

            “Blue House is boisterous as always,” chuckled Redmond.

            “Ciel! That strange house looks good on you!” laughed Soma.

            “I still can’t believe you were chosen to play for your house,” said Ciel.

            “Naturally!” said Soma.

            “Kadar is a deft hand at cricket, you know,” said Harcourt, smiling.

            “Cricket, introduced by the British, is all the rage in India,” said Soma. “Why, I even assembled my own team at the royal palace.”

            “Ah, Lord Edgar!” said one of Bluewer’s sisters. “How long must I wait before you ask me to dance?!”

            “Perhaps such time as you stop trampling on my feet?” teased Redmond kindly.

            “You are so cruel!” exclaimed the sister.

            “What foul words to fling at a fair lady, Edgar!”

            (Y/N) and Sebastian froze at the voice, and Ciel went blank in shock.

            Viscount Druitt stood in the middle of the crowd, and all eyes were immediately on him. Women stared with hearts in the eyes, and Druitt smiled out at everyone.

            “Ah, Viscount Druitt!” cheered the women.

            “How is he everywhere?” groaned (Y/N).

            “He is quite well-known,” sighed Sebastian.

            “Have my teachers escaped you, dear nephew?” bemoaned Druitt.

            “Uncle Aleister,” greeted Redmond with a smile.

            “Non!” said Druitt. “Do not call me uncle!” Undoubtedly, it made him feel old.

            “That explains the similarities of their appearances,” said Sebastian, raising a brow.

            “Ah! My beloved alma mater! The fresh springtime of my youth, like roses moist with morning dew, washes over me as if it were only yesterday!” As per usual, Druitt waxed poetry, and people adored it.

            “Luckily, his nephew is suspicious but not nearly as creepy,” muttered (Y/N). “Speaking of which, I’m going to leave before I get spotted—”

            “Ah!” Druitt’s eyes landed on them.

            Damn, why is it always me?

            “You, sir! What a face!” Druitt ran towards them and took their hand in his. “Truly, you may be a dashing man, but you have the grace of the feminine form! What an entrancing combination! Truly, a mysterious beauty worthy of a poet’s praise!”

            Even when I’m presenting masculine… sighed (Y/N). “What a…compliment, sir,” they forced out, shaking Druitt’s hand.

            Proud of himself, Druitt turned away to address the women beginning to gather around him.

            “Every time,” sighed (Y/N) as they drifted back to Sebastian’s side.

            Sebastian chuckled. He knew damn well Druitt had no chance of getting close to (Y/N), so, although his possessiveness had once again been piqued, he was also fairly amused by the endless compliments Druitt seemed to have for (Y/N), no matter the disguise.

            “There is quite a troublesome group gathering, indeed,” said Sebastian. Between Soma and the Midfords all in one place, it wouldn’t be wise to stay around. “Let us keep our distance.”

            “I daresay I agree with you,” said (Y/N), nodding.

            The pair turned away. The instant they did, a hand landed on each of their shoulders, and they froze. Turning, they faced one of the only human faces that could inspire any sort of twinge of trepidation—Marchioness Francis Midford.

            “You there, indecent manservant and maid, what brings you here?” she snapped.

            Of course she caught us, thought (Y/N) and Sebastian.

            “Goodness me, Marchioness Midford…” said Sebastian.

            “Good evening, Marchioness…” said (Y/N).

            “Look at you two!” she exclaimed. She grabbed Sebastian’s hair, and he stared at her in shock and a bit of surprised fright at a human being so forceful. “What housemaster in his right mind would go around in so dissipated a guise as this?” She turned her ire on (Y/N), and they coughed and stepped back quickly. “And you, what maid goes about dressed so?” She narrowed her eyes. “Hmph. No matter.” Francis put her hands on her hips and regarded them carefully. “iF you two are here and disguised so, then that must mean that Ciel’s enrollment at Weston is…”

            Sebastian bowed. “It is as you suspect, my lady.”

            “I do hope you can overlook my appearance due to the situation,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “Hmph,” said Francis. That was all the acknowledgement they’d get.

            Elizabeth noticed Francis talking to the pair, and she blinked. “Oh? Why, if it isn’t (Y/N)—”

            “Ssh,” said (Y/N), winking and pressing a finger to their lips. Sebastian smirked.

            Elizabeth got the message and quieted instantly, but Edward and Alexis had already noticed the discussion going on.

            “Oh, who are these chaps, Mother?” asked Edward, staring as blankly as his father. “Sirs, are you acquainted with my mother?”

            “Oh, really now, you two!” said Elizabeth. “Those tutors are…” She whispered to them, and Edward and Alexis stared.

            “It has been quite a while, gentlemen,” greeted Sebastian.

            “A fine evening, isn’t it?” remarked (Y/N), smiling.

            “Ooh,” said Alexis. “I didn’t realize at all.”

            “Me neither,” agreed Edward.

            “You mean you actually hadn’t noticed and weren’t keeping quiet about this the whole time?!” exclaimed Ciel.

            “Edward Midford, you are in one of my classes,” sighed (Y/N), pinching the bridge of their nose. Apparently, it was the women in that family that were observant.

            Edward shrugged. “I didn’t look to closely.” He beamed. “And when Lizzie’s around, everyone else fades into the background, don’t they?”

            “Don’t come out and say that like it’s some kind of given,” sighed Ciel.

            “Does your work have anything to do with tomorrow’s matches?” asked Edward. Apparently, Ciel’s presence at Weston College had at least piqued some alarm.

            “Can’t say it doesn’t, but you can have at it without worrying about that,” said Ciel.

            “Then that’s just what I’ll be doing,” said Edward with a competitive grin.

            “I’ll cheer my heart out for you, so make sure you come back victorious!” said Elizabeth, hugging Ciel.

            “R-Right,” said Ciel. After seeing her kill hordes of bizarre dolls, he was still amazed by her usual personality.

            “You talk as if the perennially last place Blue House has even a hope of winning!” snapped Edward, huffing over Elizabeth cheering for Ciel.

            “Oh, but it does.” Alexis smiled. “Blue House did once win the tournament a long time ago.”

            “Are you perhaps talking about the Miracle of Sapphires?!” A redheaded young boy ran up to the group, and Ciel jumped. He shook Alexis’s hand brightly and introduced himself. “I’m McMillan, Phantomhive’s best friend!” Ciel blinked at that. “Oh, won’t you tell us the story, Marquess?!”

            “I doubt Soma would be pleased to hear his place taken,” tutted (Y/N) in amusement, and Sebastian smirked.

            “Very well, young man!” said Alexis. “It was back when I too resided in Green House and was the prefect’s drudge, just like Ed.”

   ��        He dove into the Miracle of Sapphires, telling of how Diedrich, a Baron from Germany and the prefect of Green House in that time, was angry at Vincent Phantomhive, the prefect of Bue House at that time, for not making any preparations for the cricket tournament. The two ended up in a dispute that was more Diedrich upset than Vincent being at all concerned, but a feud began nonetheless, and they made a bet. If Diedrich and Green House won the tournament, then Vincent would have to renounce his position as prefect. If Vincent and Blue House won, then Vincent would a single mystery order for Diedrich to follow. The bet was set, and everyone expected Blue House to be beaten as usual and for Vincent to be humiliated.

            But that was not what happened. Once the tournament had ended, Sapphire Owl House was victorious, and Vincent had won the bet.

            “And Vincent and Diedrich became quite close business partners ever since!” finished Alexis, beaming. Everyone stared in surprise for various reasons.

            “Ah, business partners,” said (Y/N), knowing that meant the Guard Dog of the Queen had his connections in Germany.

            “The-The previous Earl was in Blue House?” said Ciel, blinking. He clearly hadn’t ever known it and wasn’t sure what to think.

            “I can’t believe your dad was the key player in the Miracle of Sapphires!” cried McMillan.

            “Ah, you didn’t know, hm, Ciel?” Alexis’s smile turned melancholy at how much Ciel had never learned of his father due to his death.

            “Father was a drudge…?” said Elizabeth.

            “He’s younger than Uncle Vincent…?” said Edward.

            Ignoring the insults from his children, Alexis smiled and put his hands on Ciel’s shoulders. “It was truly a brilliant game. It pains me to say this, but we were utterly clobbered. You have the blood of a genius game strategist in your veins. Have faith in yourself and give it your best.

            “Oh!” exclaimed Soma, noticing Agares approaching the dais again. “Something’s about to begin.”

            “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for waiting,” he said. “We will not draw lots to decide the tournament fixtures.” Agares gestured to Clayton. “You there, lend me your hat.” He took the scholarly hat—(Y/N)’s nose twitched at him not using his own; it felt off—and dropped two pairs of tokens into the hat. “Now, then, head housemasters, come forward and draw lots.” All four housemasters put their hands into the cap.

            Ciel and (Y/N) smirked as Sebastian dipped his hand in. They knew he’d get just the token they needed for their strategy to work perfectly. After all, the game had already begun. What use had they for miracle wins when they had tricks? Miracles were a thing of Heaven; tricks were a thing of Hell.

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[afantasyoffiction]

a lil intro :)

hi hello to anyone who's checking this out!

i’m caitlin, an aspiring fantasy writer and maybe poet, english literature nerd and general fandom weirdo who likes to talk a lot about all my many many obsessions :)

i'm new to actively participating on this site as opposed to watching thru the window of pinterest...but now that i write more and 9-1-1 in particular doesn't post on pinterest so much, i'm on here too rip

i talk about: writing, procrastinating writing, reading writing and characters in writing who drive me insane!

my writing: i write poetry which i will post on here occasionally! but my main writing that is intended for other ppl to read is fanfic, and my fantasy wip:

my fics that you can go read literally right now if you want:

just to sit outside your door - buddie post-hiatus wip

if I glued myself shut (you would find your way in) - buck's pov during the 'are his concerns your concerns', feeling realisation

you've haunted me, so stunningly - eddie pov during the post -lightning convo w buck, based on that amazing edit making the rounds rn

just to sit outside of your (ipad screen) light - eddie post-hiatus mini fic, feelings realisation

the witches wip: a ya fantasy book (one day trilogy i hope!) about a world where witches are gone, but persecution of them isn't. trying to save her innocent sister from execution, my fmc gets dragged into a storm of political plotting, conflicting agendas and strange powers beyond her comprehension. a book about family, and realising that what you thought was a bedtime story might still be around to haunt you... tagged with #the witches wip

my ao3: a_fantasy_2 - all the good stuff is copied above! tags are #shameless fanfic plug and #caitlin's original writing

main fandoms: i have been in a ridiculous number of fandoms so this is not all of them but these are my main ones - bold are ones im currently in the trenches abt :)

9-1-1 (pls no ship war content tho i just cannot)

marauders (my og loml one true fandom its a canon event i fear)

good omens (book and tv show changed my life)

anything leigh bardugo but SoC and RoW especially

supernatural (its been a while but then again i'm fandom posting on this site so its kinda a given)

anything by chloe gong....(message me PLEASE. best ya fantasy writer and my literal writing idol)

EPIC the musical - i love this so freaking much, if you don't know what this is go find out u won't regret it

hamilton (i am in fact hamiltrash, unfortunately)

aftg (im not writing that out. if you know what that acronym is thats on you.)

tagging system: i got one of those creepy teeth 'frequent poster badges', so i think it might be time for me to get one of these. ahem. on an incoherent blog, i declare order:

#caitlin writes and yaps abt it - writblr content (these will almost always have the 'writblr' and 'writers on tumblr' tag as well)

#caitlin's homebrew hallucinations - any writing or OC content from my wips or poetry i share

#the witches wip - specific wip content!

#caitlin the english major - literature posts

#caitlin reblogs from even cooler blogs and/or #caitlin's moot besties - reblogging my moots or other cool ppl!

#caitlin does ask games / #caitlin does reblog games - making a separate tag bc i LOVE these

#shameless fanfic plug - fics that i write on ao3 and want to share here

#caitlin rambles miscellaneous - anything else thats incoherent

fandom posts will all be tagged with their fandom and with #caitlin a fandom nerd

sound good? let me know if this actually makes this blog make any more sense mk team

please send me: asks/posts/comments about these fandoms, short fic writing prompts within these fandoms, writblr content, writing questions, or literature thoughts :)

(pls don’t send me requests for money or ai content. i will block and delete, here’s why. )

basically reach out if you just want to ramble about any of these things because what else is tumblr dot com for ... seriously what. actually what was this site made for it beats me

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hello! Interested in your encyclopaedic knowledge on this. Skim-rereading the VC now for first time since I was a teenager and have to ask - does Louis ever, like - do anything for Lestat? This prompted particularly by TOTBT which my god is so savage. I can’t believe he’s happy to just… let him die?!? He doesn’t lift a finger, he doesn’t even try to protect him? It’s IWTV all over again, only supposedly their relationship is much better by this point.

It got me looking for examples where Louis does anything whatsoever proactive for Lestat and I’m really struggling. At the end of QotD, it seems like lots of the other vamps are trying to look after traumatised Lestat a bit, but I don’t think Louis comes to him? He just wanders off to New Orleans? Maybe I’ve missed a bit though. He looks after him a bit in his coma? Although not moreso than anyone else. But in the end it is Lestat who ends up waking up to save Louis. Even that bit in PLaTRoA where Lestat is about to have his heart stopped - Louis sitting next to his coffin - but Lestat reaches out to take Louis’ hand, not the other way round. Aside from verbally saying that he loves him, other than being generally nice and calm and polite, does Louis ever do anything to show it?

Hey nonny!

(Not sure about the encyclopedic but I‘ll try 😅💕) I do see a lot of the mentioned events a bit differently, allow me to explain (this is gonna be long^^):

Soooo to address your mention of TtotBT first off, I personally do think Louis thought of Lestat first and foremost when he sent him away in that scene.

Louis was tempted. It's no surprise imho that Jacob really wants to do that scene with Sam, because the power dynamics are inverted of course, but it is also emotionally very raw.

I want to pause here and recall a quote from QotD here, which is important:

Louis, the watcher, the patient one, was there on account of love pure and simple. The two had found each other only last night, and theirs had been an extraordinary reunion. Louis would go where Lestat led him. Louis would perish if Lestat perished. But their fears and hopes for this night were heartbreakingly human.

Louis... would perish if Lestat perished.

For Louis to send Lestat away... is to resign himself to death also. I think that has to be taken into account for the scene you mentioned, where Louis decides that Lestat deserves to save his soul, before Louis himself deserves to save his own. His rejection of Lestat there is done in full knowledge that he condemns himself there to a very lonely, cold, and ultimately fatal existence. He rejects Lestat there, knowing he will lose his greatest love.

I wouldn't call that happy to let him die? And I, personally, don't see it as a parallel to IWTV either, though it might feel a bit like that for Lestat, but the Louis here knows how much this will hurt. He knows what he is doing. He is condemning himself, hoping it will free Lestat.

And, while we're on TtotBT, in the beginning of the book there is the mention of Louis coming by Lestat's, to 'Netflix & chill', to share space and spend time, watch movies (for example "Company of the wolves", just being there. Talk. Discuss. Being together. So Louis did come by, for Lestat. And Lestat visited Louis, in his shack, had his own chair there. They were in each other's lives.

And... in the end of that book - when David show's up? What does Louis do? He takes David in. Makes room for David in their old home in Rue Royale. Accepts David - for Lestat. Accompanies them, too. Honestly, given David is David... that is a HUGE sacrifice! He let's David, the new fledgling, into their home. Because he is Lestat's. Later on, in PL, he will do the same for Antoine, which is obviously something that had to grate quite a lot as well, and I have always seen that as a rather conscious decision to allow it. To allow Antoine into their lives, because he is Lestat's.

Louis also tries to protect Lestat before the concert.

I know a lot of people read that from Lestat's POV and are just happy with the reunion (and of course it is beautiful and I really want to see it on the show!!) but... it's not only that.

Louis comes, to Lestat, not only because he can do so. But he pleads for Lestat to stay safe, too, to not do the concert. Because he is afraid for Lestat. He wants to keep him safe, wants to keep him with himself, too. He pleads with him not to go on stage. Offers to talk, to make plans, to 'Let us have each other in this century the way we never did in the past'.

You mentioned the end of QotD, and... in their universe, all that happens right after this reunion. A few days, a week at most. And then Lestat hides himself away again, in a room, trying to cope. Because he has been used again, abused, too, in a way he himself can only cope with by reframing it as love.

Louis knows it isn't. Wasn't. And he knows that he and Lestat cannot talk freely with the others there. He and Lestat are not able to use the mind gift directly. And... he is deeply unsettled by Jesse's report, the report she gives Lestat. Claudia's ghost. Deeply, deeply personal and something they share, very painfully. They go by Louis' tombstone, and then they can talk. A bit. Louis trusts Lestat and in his new powers. Falls asleep in his arms.

And that... is a rather powerful statement.

Louis (admittedly begrudgingly) enters that "adventure" with Lestat, fully trusting in Lestat. Kissing, embracing. Sleeping in his arms. It's a statement.

A statement that, despite Lestat feeling changed, and alien, that Louis still trusts him. Trusts in him, too.

And it is Louis, who tries to take Lestat home in Memnoch, Louis who pleads, begs for Lestat to be released. Louis who cries out when Lestat is locked up. Louis is the one who saves the books, Louis is the one who tries to comfort Lestat. Louis is the one who holds the proverbial fort at Rue Royale, with David, for long, long years. Louis is the one who despairs, eventually, when Lestat goes back into that half-awake coma, his soul taken away by angels.

Though there is more to that, too. You say Louis did not look after Lestat more than others, and I'd beg to differ. Louis was the one in the chapel, guarding Lestat. Holding his ground with the ancients, and the riff raff that Armand hunted down (even once with Lestat later). Louis is the one who keeps Ruy Royale, and makes sure Lestat is kept clean during his episodes of stillness, and it is only when he breaks, eventually, when Merrick takes his focus... that that... stops. When the Merrick events start, David visits Lestat, and Louis is 'there, seated on the marble beside Lestat, reading in a hushed voice from an old book of English poetry'.

Louis never leaves Lestat's side for long. Armand notes how he seems emaciated, hungry when Armand comes by in his version of the tale.

It is only when Merrick's spell unfolds that Louis leaves Lestat's side, that his focus shifts. And with the shift to Claudia and her ghost... the despair takes hold.

And it is when Louis heartbeat stops - that the "angels" lose their blackmailing material.

Lestat later tells of how he was forced to do "their bidding" by them threatening to take the eye... and though he doesn't elaborate... it is very clear what that means wrt Louis.

Because there simply was nothing else they could threaten him with anymore. Nothing else was more important than Louis. Not his eye, not his soul.

This always sends a shiver down my spine.

But that just as a note.

Louis is the one who accepts Lestat's judgment, after Merrick's creation.

He also accepts Lestat abandoning New Orleans, eventually, because Lestat cannot stand it anymore to kill the riff raff, those who "offend Armand", something Lestat calls "autocratic, ruthless" wrt to Armand's killing of them.

Louis accepts Lestat's decision there, and goes to Armand. Something that Lestat in turn accepts and supports(!):

My beloved Louis de Pointe du Lac left soon after, and from that time on lived in New York with Armand. Armand keeps the island of Manhattan safe for them—Louis, Armand, and two young blood drinkers, Benjamin and Sybelle, and whoever else joins them in their palatial digs on the Upper East Side.

And when Lestat is finally ready, it is Louis who apologizes to Lestat for the "past" by hunting a woman who wanted to murder her husband - in front of Lestat.

Personally, I find that a very poignant "doing-it-for-someone" :)))

But there is more.

Louis is the one who rescues Rose! Rose, Lestat's charge. Louis knows about Rose. Lestat's lawyers know about Louis. Louis takes over when Lestat is unreachable.

There is so much in these simple facts!

Like, they must have talked about Rose. Louis knows about Rose, knows she is important to Lestat, he takes the responsibility, saves her from fire, kills the ones who harmed her. Brings her to him. And he is the one Lestat's lawyers reach out to when Lestat is gone? Unreachable? What a statement is that in and by itself?! Louis is the one Lestat trusts with that child, the girl he saved and who will become his immortal daughter. Their immortal daughter.

And then, when Rhosh is there in NYC, at that table, and the axe scene happens... what does Louis do?

He smiles.

Now I don't know if you know that scene well, but it is quite the scene, and I honestly cannot wait to see it on the show.

And Louis... smiles. Shows support.

Quiet. Steadfast. The support Lestat needs, probably more than he consciously realizes.

And then, of course, later on - knowing what "Lestat cannot confide". They are finally sharing blood again, and Louis becomes Lestat's confidant. To all the things Lestat cannot speak about, all the things he has hinted at but cannot put into words. All the things that are too heavy to address.

That is no trifle.

And the silver cord, where Louis pushes the matter against Lestat's (not) better judgement. Where Louis is there, for Lestat to reach out.

Your ask made it seem (a bit) as if being there and offering is not sufficient, but strength shows itself in very different ways. Lestat is more direct, "flashy". Louis' strength is more subtle, it is an offer for support, unwavering support, whenever Lestat wants it. For as long as Lestat wants it. Not taking agency from Lestat, which is like the worst thing that could happen again... because that is something that has been taken from Lestat again, and again, and again. And Louis knows that.

And so he doesn't.

He doesn't take. He offers. It shows he knows Lestat. And he accepts him, and their respective pasts, and all the shit that has happened.

Again, that is no trifle, imho.

There is more. Little mentions, in the books.

A "grotto" they once shared. For example. Louis wearing the clothes Lestat chooses.

But for the most part you have to "read between the lines" as Lestat says, for the juicy details - however, I think when you consider the arcs? The arcs that span all the books?

The things we are told actually speak for themselves, imho.

Louis does a lot of things for Lestat. The important things, actually.

He is there for Lestat to turn to when Lestat's strength fails.

And yes, that includes the rejection in TtotBT - because Louis thought he had to be the one to show the strength for Lestat - to hold fast to the initial belief. The initial hope that drove the body switch - because Lestat had just found out he could not die anymore. Even if he tried. And he had tried. And it had sent him spiraling.

Would Louis have held out indefinitely? Probably not :) But that's another discussion.

[blorbingqls]

"We accept the love we think we deserve" - seeing this quote in terms of love and control as subjects in Only Friends

With @tomatoland 's brilliant post on TopMew on the above quote here , i think that with 7 eps in, we have understood that love and control are very well linked with ephemerality as a subject.

As i have previously linked epheremality with control here, i would like to talk about how love also makes us lose control with the impermanence of life. This is a long overdue post for 4 eps now.

linking the ephemerality squad here so that you can also share your opinions on this @waitmyturtles @lurkingshan @slayerkitty @respectthepetty @ranchthoughts (anyone else i am missing, pls tag, i really appreciate it)

TopMew

As Tomato (@tomatoland i hope you're okay with that nickname; i really tried to find a name on your blog for you) has referred in their post, Mew left his bubble of insecurities and got his heart broken. Completely legible and correct on his point. Top really loves Mew but now Mew has no reason to believe him anymore. With the play in their power dynamics, both of them loved each other and lost control of the way they wanted the relationship. Yes, if Top and Mew has stuck to their original plans - just reaching to the point of ideality and sex, then, this relationship should have ended after they got their goals. I dont think that sex was a goal for Mew as much as it was for Top, but, we can say it was in the secondary.

But as they fell in love, they, especially Top understood how the love he received from Mew is so much more than he thought he deserves (taking into account his trauma and past experiences). So , even though Mew is projecting his hurt by doing things that literally are asshole-ish as fuck on his accord, Top is willing to let go all of that since even he knows he is in the wrong this time and he is willing to lose all control he has on his life - of fame, money and insecurities in order to have Mew back. Top is willing to be as obsessive as Mew said he would be in a relationship in order to get and accept the love he think he deserves from Mew, even if it won't be good.

But, I also feel, the concept of love as explored in the series so far, not just runs along with TopMew because of the books, but also with all the remaining couples in the show. I won't discuss P'Yo and her partner, CheumApril in this segment, because I want more angles on this from the coming episodes in order to validate my point. But, I'll discuss this point with our other views on the couples: RayMew, TopBoston, SandRay, and BostonNick.

RayMew

Now, RayMew is a pairing that is being enforced on the viewers for the past 3 episodes now and the last episode shows a pretty good view of how as characters, Mew and Ray view each other.

For Ray, his love is unconditional for Mew because it correlates with that fact that Mew was the only reason who made him stay in this world - who made him believe that he deserves the love from his friends, the love which he didn't get from his parents or any potential partners. But potential partners were never in the scene because Mew was Ray's emergency contact. Their relationship runs deep and however much you may think, even if Ray thinks Mew's love for him could be more as a friend, he also believes that because as he is so damn shitty and a fucking burden to society, he can't ask for more from Mew for the sake of their friendship and his esteem. He keeps entertaining the idea of them as partners several times, but, until ep 7, Mew has never entertained the idea that his love for Ray will be any worthy of more than a friend. Because, Mew wants to continue making the boundary and keep the control, according to me.

Now, as Mew has entertained the idea, i am interested how it pans out in the next episode (not very promising tho). just linking this out here because its so fucking interesting.

TopBoston

We will mainly take here Boston's viewpoint since Top gave up on this since the very beginning and became firm with it post ep 3. He gives no flying fucks about the possiblity of it. Top considers Boston to be a one night stand and a one night stand only.

Boston, as has mentioned so many times, considers Top to be top tier; the person who gives him something as close to love because as an Machiavellian prince (refer here) Boston considers Top to be the only worthy competitor in his reign. And he really doesn't care if he hurt others feeling. Mind you, Boston has been the most truthful to himself, maybe not to others. And as a prince, his love speaks volume through keeping them in their reign because ultimately Boston wants power and control in his arena. That's the fucking politics of it. And Top is the only worthy contender who can damage his reign. Hence, he wants the top tier power as much as possible, and only Top can give him that. Him fucking off to America, that can easily happen through Top, because he is a very well known hotel chain owner/manager. So, Boston wants his loves, because he very well thinks he deserves it and he accepts it as much as he can. But, he also knows that for him, he can't make this love into a weakness, because that will be out of his control.

Boston however, as Mew so incredibly pointed out, is gullible. Ray couldn't see through him, but, MEW FUCKING DID. That is why even though Boston didn't consider Mew as his competitor, he was fucking jealous of him because Mew got Top and was chosen over eventually by Top. Mew has the power that Boston didn't think he had, till now. And tbh, Mew is now winning the game, despite his insecurities with his relationship with Top.

THE WAR HAS BEGUN, MY FRIENDS.

SandRay

God, I have so many feeling for these babies. Where to start? Okay so, you know in second episode, Sand built that boundary with Ray regarding friends with benefits? Well, it has backfired on him. COMPLETELY.

As ep 8 preview says, I love how Sand realised the fact that they were never friends to begin with, for even to have made that boundary to make sense. Sand is a pathetic little man, as so many of you have pointed out, but, why is he the way he is?

His incredible nature to be so caring of others around him has made him feel like its his responsibility to take care of everything. His mother, his business, his money and job, his style and even his fucking roommate. Now, Sand is so emotionally attached to this damsel in distress, pathetic burden to society (affectionate) Ray, that even before they became friends, he made Ray his responsibility. Sand has no right to ask for love from Ray, because they are not friends, lest friends with benefits to ask for any care towards himself. But he selfishly asks, for the first time.

Because, as a person who keeps on taking care of others endlessly, it is harder for them to ask for the care and love they expect and deserve from whom they love while keeping their self esteem intact. And for Ray to completely shut him down at that time, and him still following Ray while he was drunk, makes him so much real because you feel responsible for that person. You are their emergency staff, even if they don't consider you to be.

While Ray comes from another perspective itself. He initially wanted to know Sand more as a person, because he is a person who wanted to explore the life beyond what has been given to him. He is a spoilt brat, and when he realised that he can't buy Sand's love, he explored it with him.

But because I think Ray believes that Sand will always be for him, even when he does asshole-ish behaviour (because thats where everyone leaves) he has taken Sand for granted. The backup option. Anything goes wrong with his ideal relationship, he can always go running back to Sand, because Sand has become his addiction.

Apart from drugs and alcohol, Mew and Sand are the only people he can keep coming back to. For Mew, it is only at a cost. At some conditions, only for something personal. While maybe Ray wants explore that possibility with Sand, but he is afraid. He is afraid that Sand will go away. just as Mew did. A person who can only consider him a friend and nothing more. Even if he wants to explore that possibility with both of them, loving them at the same time, he can't make people his priority, because he doesn't know how to do that. Nor does he think he's worthy of it. So, he accepts whatever he thinks he deserves off Sand's love and care.

I am interested to see how it pans out for these idiots once his relationship with Mew falls out. I am concerned for Ray so much. Give him access to therapy and rehab soon pls. Sand and Ray's father I think are going in that direction, with this speculation by @prapaiwife.

BostonNick

Now, our final pair has been the most interesting couple in this show so far. Why do I say that?

Well, for Nick, Boston is one of the top-tier gays. As pointed out by Boston, he likes bad guys. And lets be honest, Boston, most dishonest, cunning bastard out there. So, Nick believes that he will be that gay who lands the top tier dick and fix this problem. Right?

Wrong. Nick very well knows this won't happen. Still he keeps hoping for more as Boston doesn't know how to not be a hypocrite as a prince. He keeps giving some here and there false hope through his actions, not words which makes Nick believe he's special, but he's not. He takes whatever love he thinks Boston gives him, despite him not being his number one, despite Boston cheats on him over and over again. He just wants whatever of love as actions that Boston can give to him because that proves wrong all of his low self esteem. So he accepts whatever he thinks he deserves because he can't ask for more in a bed friend relationship. With Boston's guard so up and his will to leave the country, Nick knows he can't do anything but try to make him stay. Even if that's a 99% chance of not happening. He tries because he doesn't want Boston to hate him. He only wants him to love him. Because for him, thats enough.

The sadness keeps on piling up for these outsider, hard working roommates, doesn't it?

While, for Boston, he is nothing but a rebound from the angst of not getting Top. He wants a serious relationship, and maybe, he does look for it in Nick, maybe not, but he doesn't love Nick. He doesn't love Top either. For Boston, Nick is a toy he wanted to play with.

Because he cares about his reign, his reputation. And, Nick realised that. Hence, Mew contacted him and Nick gave that information to Mew. They will bring Boston down together because Nick somewhere believes he can get him back.

But Nick babygirl, he doesn't love you bub. He doesn't. And, it hurts so much. Because Boston keeps on taking from you, whatever he deserves. And that is your care for him, for granted. He is a leech bub. He is.

Now, how does it all link to ephemerality and control?

Well, love itself is impermanent. It doesn't stay.

The world knows this and still we chase it. And at an age as our characters, we chase love and freedom like anything. In order to gain control. We take up jobs, more courses to learn, experiment with love and relationships, with people because the time is ticking and people say now is the age. We break hearts and get it broken.

As P'Jojo says "This show is Hurt People Hurt People", tell me who hasn't been hurt by love, by control and by living at its time? And also by missing out each of these experiences because you were lonely with your own life and burdens?

We accept the hate and love the life gives us, because this is what we think we deserve out of this. And tbh, these feelings, are never permanent. They keep changing with time, and that's the only thing thats permanent.

Change is the only thing that remains permanent.

[angeledeggs]

Can you pls do a HC for the courtiers where their S/o caught some illness and fell into a coma due to it? (Sleeping beauty sorta). Also how would they react after they wake up after a year or two? (:

//How are you doing? Had a nice day so far

This is so creative, yeah, I'll do it! I'm alright. Sorry writing has taken me longer 😭 I'm trying to make it higher quality for y'all to enjoy<33 thank all of yall for the requests!

Valerius🍷:

Oh gods, he's a mess.

He's already kind of a drinker but he DEFINITELY is drinking much more the first few weeks you fall into a coma.

Then he realizes that like, he definitely can't do that, what if you wake up and see him a drunken mess?

But then he realizes that you waking up is an if, and he drinks more.

He only stops when there happens to be a coincidental shortage of all spirits and all of the sort, and everything kind of clicks into place for him.

He has definite faith that you're going to wake up, and barely leaves your side.

He's a politician and as such, has countless meetings and scheduled appearances and things like that.

He ignores every one.

He'll make sure to take care of you in your coma, constantly checking your pulse, you're temperature, your breath. He even pays hundreds of physicians to try and help you, but none can find the answer. So he just stays with you and hopes.

He feels like a creep, always sitting with you, but he knows you're his lover and he'll stay with you for as long as it takes until you wake up.

He has so many dreams of you that when you finally awake, his first thought is he's dreaming. His hands reach out for you, though, instinctively, and when he touches your skin and sees your eyes he knows it's not a dream and bursts into tears immediately.

He'll definitely call your wake a miracle and will choke out prayers for the first time in years as he holds you.

Vlastomil🐛:

Valerius might numb the pain he feels with wine, but Vlastomil doesn't engage in such disgusting alcohol for his body.

The first few weeks he's anxiously jumping everytime he thinks he sees your breath sputter or pause, and is quick to check your breath and heartbeat.

He's desperate, and tries to read every book for anything he can find about your coma. He calls doctors, magicians, curse breakers, everyone, but he cant find anyone to help.

When the first month of your coma happens, he takes up smoking again.

But not just any type of smoking, no. When he was younger he would go for a cigar every now and then, but in the event of your coma he smokes two packs of simply cigarettes, right in a row, and when his chest wheezes, he only feels numb.

He never smokes in your room, he always smokes on the balcony, as he's too afraid that the smoke will hurt you.

After around a week of chain-smoking, he finally just quits. There's no point, as it barely calms him down. But he still shakes for cigarettes, for your awakening, so he drinks cup after cup of tea.

He finds it hard just to make one cup, when he's become so accustomed to making two.

You awake as his tea water is boiling, but he hears the slightest shift from your room and runs in so quickly that he knocks the pot clean off the stove.

He bursts into immediate, relieved tears when he sees you're finally awake, and embraces you as he falls to his knees, unable to even get out how he missed you so.

Valdemar💉:

They don't need anyone else's help.

You're the love of their life, they will be the one to care for you. They needn't any other doctor, any other magician, any of their assistants, nothing.

They practically dote on you, wait on you as if it is their life's duty. And as far as they're concerned, it is now, because they have abandoned their work and left it to collect dust in the dungeons.

They even leave their beloved beetles to Julian to take care of, for the are bugs and their pride and joy, yes, but you are the one person that softens them, their beloved, someone who they are certain is their soulmate.

They grow frustrated after months and months. They're a doctor, a scientist, a genius, dammit, and they can't figure out what's wrong.

They consider making another deal for your consciousness. But no. They will not sacrifice what's left of them another time. They will not rope you into their own mistakes. They will not give the devil what he wants.

They're transformed in the months of your coma. Their bandages are either dreadfully tight or messily loose, no in between, and their already gaunt body has turned thinner with the stress.

They are in a state of always checking your pulse, always stroking your hair, always whispering to the sun and moon their love for you, their pleas for you to return.

They move you often from not just laying but sitting positions so that when you awake you have no aches. For you will wake up. You will wake up or they will go with you.

And when you finally wake up, they can barely even speak. They can't speak. You have taken their work, their motivation, their remaining care for the beetles. They simply can't do it without you. And they drop to their knees in front of you, reaching for the pulse on your wrist, to feel it.

They feel a steady beat, rather than the slow, sleepy one that had plagued you in your coma. And they slump in relief, smile, kiss you with their mask on in their rush. You're back.

Volta🍰:

She just thinks you're really tired, at first. Then you're sleeping two days in a row and she is quite worried. She thinks you might be drunk or injured, but the alcohol cabinet is the way she left it and your body is relaxed with that of sleep, not slow death.

She's of course, an anxious mess. Usually, she simply cries when stressed, but she finds herself so worried that her tears turn into yelling. She screams at every doctor that doesn't know what to do with you until soon no more doctors will come and assess the situation.

She's so worried for you, that you'll die, and for a few days she ends up sleeping next to you, sobbing softly and praying to whoever will listen that she wants you to be fine when she wakes up. And after a few days she knows it's pointless.

She does her best to keep you comfortable, always adjusting your blankets to make sure your temperature is fine, carefully brushing your hair, trying to rouse you by lighting the incense.

She also tries to keep calm. She feels as though she is a doll that is splitting at the seams, and so she tries to engage in her hobby of baking, but when she finally finishes a cake and realizes you won't see it she collapses in the kitchen in grief.

She tries other hobbies.

Sewing is the only one she can handle, as she can be in the same room with you and sew you things for when you wake up. If you wake up. When you wake up.

She falls asleep with her needle and thread in her hand countless times and one day when she wakes, you're rubbing your eyes and sitting up.

Volta finds herself frozen for a long moment. Then she leaps over to you, wraps her arms around your shoulders and finally, she can cry and hold you with relief.

Vulgora⚔️:

They're usually very angry.

Usually.

But when they realize you're not sleeping, you're in a coma, they find themself a sudden, broken shell of their warrior spirit.

They try to reason with themself. They have won countless wars. They have killed thousands. They have seen countries rise and fall, and will continue to. But seeing you like this has made them weak.

You are their only weakness, and as such, they protect you with their life. Nobody hears of you or them, and they are constantly by your side, brushing back your hair and feeling for your heartbeat.

They rarely leave your side and as such, lose weight from how little they eat, in fear of leaving you and coming back to you hurt or.. Worse.

Their muscles are in a constant state of tense or shaking, and they find their strength has somehow left with your beautiful laugh and eyes. When they try to grab their sword, they crumble beneath their own very weapon that has slain all who faced them.

When you awake though, they suddenly stop shaking. Their muscles are hard with shock. And then they relax. And they collapse next to you, reach out for you, sighing of how relieved they are to see you awake, finally.

❀

PS GUYS OH MY GOD I THINK THIS MIGHT JUST BE ONE OF MY BEST WORKS I WASNT EVEN PLANNING TO RIGHT TODAY THIS ALL JUST HAPPENED LIKE OH MY GOD??? I GOT POSSESSED BY THE WRITERS BEFORE ME???? OH MY GOD YIPPEE

[lesbiansanemi]

hi kaz!! i was reading through some of the asks/responses you posted yesterday and i wanted to pick your mind a bit about your answer to one particular question. I think the ask itself was more about what tropes/kinks you like in f/f ships, but I was more interested in a certain portion where you talked about how you don’t post f/f stuff as much as you would like on your blog because it doesn’t get the same kind of attention.

( bear w me but im going to go on a tangent for a second here. i promise it’ll all come together ) last year i set a goal for myself to read 50 books just because i kind of missed how much i used to read when i was younger, and i wanted to see if i could still do it (and i could)! the reason why this is relevant bc i realized that…my taste in books is really different from my taste in fanfiction. im not really a big romance enjoyer, though i do read a lot of it because most of the books in the genres i tend to read include them as a major subplot. most of the romance i read was a roughly equal amount of m/f and f/f. i only read 4 books with m/m romance, which kind of surprised me because…pretty much all the fanfiction i read is m/m?? 

I guess your response just got me thinking about how differently i personally view/interact with ships/shows/etc. that I categorize in my brain as “fandom” content vs “IRL” content. I’m not sure if this distinction makes sense to anyone but me, but it’s basically just the stuff I post about on my blogs or write fanfiction about or make fanart of vs. literally everything else that I enjoy reading/watching. 

I think fandom as a whole is so centered around m/m that it almost feels like an unspoken rule that m/m ships are cooler, better, more popular—you can ship f/f , of course, but doing it is almost like a statement, or it’s a random side-pairing that people throw in there to even things out or something. When it comes to the books/shows I talk about “IRL”, there’s a much greater diversity in the kinds of characters and relationships I enjoy. But within the sphere of fandom, I find that the kind of content I create/post/reblog is much narrower in scope. It’s this subconscious policing that I think I’ve always been aware of, but never really put into words until now. 

I guess my experiences are also heavily colored by the fact that I’m aroace and find pretty much all genders/bodies aesthetically desirable. I generally don’t really have much interest in searching for a particular gender dynamic; if i like everything else about the fic, then i’m pretty happy with whatever’s put in front of me (which, in fandom, is pretty much always m/m). Also, a lot of times that I read a certain fic I’m doing it more bc I care about the individual character/s involved than the ship itself, because, again, I’m a casual romance fan at best, but I understand that within fandom, shipping seems to be the way to examine/analyze/whatever characters and character dynamics. (This reflects in my writing too. Renkaza is the main ship i write for these days, but as much as i love akaza, i'm usually writing my silly lil fics for kyojuro. He's my Guy, he's the Character i'm rotating in my mind always)

All this being said, I understand that it’s probably very different for someone who does have specific preferences that just don’t seem to get the same attention in fandom. This is getting kind of long and nonsensical, but basically, I just wanted to ask if you had anything else to say on the subjects of women in fandom/shipping culture/character discourse or other things like that. 

Anyway, hope you’re having a good day! here’s another frog:  𓆏

Hiiiii Bog!!! And yeah! Ofc! I'll do my best to articulate and answer, sorry if this gets a bit convoluted or complicated, I'm gonna try and keep it streamlined. (Also I'm so sorry, it didn't stay contained, pls do not feel you have to read all of this LMAO)

First! Congrats on reaching your reading goal! I also used to read a lot when I was younger, but I haven't done so in... years atp, and I'm slowly starting to get back into it, so I understand the feeling!

I totally get what you mean by "fandom" vs "IRL" media/content as well. Or at least, I think I've got a kind of similar thing going on. There are so many pieces of media that I genuinely love so much that I just... never talk about on here, because I don't really feel a desire or need to "fandomize" them. Like, since this is mostly an anime blog, using it as an example, out of my top twenty fav animes, there are 8 I have basically never talked about on here, 7 I only post about in passing (as in, happened to stumble across a gifset or something and reblogged it), and only five that I'd say I "participate in fandom" with. And then ofc, there are SO many pieces of media that aren't anime that I genuinely love a lot that I don't/barely post about on here, or interact with the fandom

I have a few theories for why certain pieces of media are "fandomizable" to me, while others I genuinely never feel the urge to do that with them, despite genuinely loving them. One is that I've found I have a very hard time doing fandom if it's a live action piece of media. I wish I could articulate why, I've tried before, but I fear we'd just end up with a confusing mess haha. The literal only one is dw, and even then, I don't read fic for it, barely look at art, mostly just like reading analysis and theories on it.

The point is! I get what you mean haha

But the main reason kinda circles back to what you said about shipping, and how that is generally the way that people engage with fandom, and characters and media in general within fandom spaces. I'm mostly going to engage with the fandom if there are ships I can enjoy within the piece of media, because I know that's going to be what most people are creating fan content about. For all I joke and post about "there's more to media than shipping" ik most fandom ppl are probably like me, and have a lot of media where shipping is barely acknowledged at all, and just come to fandom for that specific aspect of it.

Another is if the media has extremely compelling characters, but is lacking a bit plot wise because I feel the urge to "fix" it and want to explore that either via my own fics or reading other people's. Basically, I'm only going to "do fandom" with a piece of media if there are other avenues of the story I'd like to truly explore because canon either disappointed me, or had other alternate routes that imo are just as interesting (if not more so) than the one we got in canon.

And, obviously, there are lots of pieces of media that don't fit that criteria. So I don't engage with fandom for them. At most I will sometimes write character or relationship study fics for them, but that's about it

So, getting into fandom in regards to femslash, these characters and relationships I want to explore more are generally women and sapphic relationships. Of course, there are a lot of m/m ships I can enjoy in passing, and I might click on a fic for them if it strikes my fancy, but largely, I just don't care enough to create my own fics for most of them, or even necessarily deliberately seek it out. Renkaza is very much an exception for me, and not the rule

Like say, Dungeon Meshi. I love Falin and Marcille. I love their relationship. I love the way they affect the plot and story. I love seeking out fic and art of them. I have little snippets of farcille hidden away in my drive, as well as plans for other fics about them. But then looking at say, Laois, Kabru, and Labru, I just.... don't feel the urge to do that with them. I don't dislike these characters or this ship. They just inspire a very "Okay, cool I guess" reaction in me. And most of my interest in Laois and Kabru is based in very canon analysis of them, without going into headcanon or shipping territory. And that same sentiment seems to carry over to the vast majority of media I engage with.

I think the most glaring example is Genshin Impact. I can so honestly say I don't care about the male characters, with exactly two exceptions. I just don't. I don't think about them, I don't want to read fic about them, I don't ship any of them. If I see it, I say "okay" and then move on. But the female characters... they're pretty much the whole reason I play the game. I want to explore their characters, I think about them often, there are lots of different ships between them I think would be interesting to explore.

And I think there are a couple of reasons I feel this way about female characters and femslash that I'll try to articulate here.

The first is that as a kid, I often got very, very upset that most media only had one token "girl character" whose main personality trait was "being the girl character." I also got upset that pretty much all girl centric media were things like disney princess movies and the like. So as I got older, and learned I could find media where girls and women had many, many more roles, could be genuine main characters in things that weren't girly romances, there could be more than one female character. And those female characters could interact with each other and have deep relationships just like the male characters! So I just got very, very attached them as a teenager, and I think part of that follows me even now

There is also that degree of relatability that I mentioned in the original post. I'm not a girl, but I am sapphic, and am at least 80% of the time read as a woman within my life, and absolutely live as one. That inspires a sort of kinship with female characters that I just don't have with male characters, even ones I deeply relate to for other reasons. The same is true for sapphic romantic relationships. I'm an ace lesbian, some flavor of aro too, but I feel an undeniable type of draw to women that I simply don't with men. So relationships between two women "make more sense" to me in a way. It's easier for me to "see" how and why they would work. For m/m, everything has to be so specific for me to go "ah yes, I get it, I see." With female characters, there's a lot more variation that makes me go "ah yes I see it and get it" because I can apply how I feel to fill in the gaps. And again, I can also get that gratification from them that I just can't with m/m

I also just... have a lot of trauma with men? It is one of those things that I very much acknowledge is a me problem, and is something I am very consciously working on and trying to get over, but it's so much easier for me to get closer with women irl, I always go to women in professional settings if I can have a choice, etc. I am working very hard on being more comfortable around men, esp men I don't know well, but! It is an aspect of me. And I'm sure it probably taints my enjoyment of male characters and male-centric fiction to a certain degree. It's perhaps one of the reasons I just, so much more rarely get genuinely attached to male characters

And finally, and this is starting to lead into fandom's Thing with female characters and femslash in general, but there is a spiteful part of me that wants to love these characters and ships that are often ignored for the same of m/m and sometimes het, esp when the het is a lot more focused on the male character. I see so much potential, so many things to explore in these characters and ships that so many people consistently ignore, and at a certain point, it has to be acknowledged that the common denominator is that they are women. When that is the only connection, it has to be considered that people don't care about them in the same way merely because they're women

Before I got into kny, my ao3 was actually about 50% femslash, 30% gen, 15% qprs, and 5% m/m and m/f. Most of those fics have long since been abandoned for unrelated reasons, but the point is, m/m wasn't a significant part of my fandom contribution until I got into Renkaza. And I stayed a very small ao3 account, before my stats fucking EXPLODED when I started posting Renkaza. Those fics gained traction and attention in ways my femslash simply never did

And it... sucked to see, to put it mildly, haha. It sucked knowing I could pour just as much time and effort into these femslash fics as my m/m, and they would receive fractions of the attention. I don't necessarily write for the engagement, but I won't pretend I don't like it, and it hurts when the things I make are largely ignored, especially for... reasons like that. Here is actually a post I made not too long ago going into the INSANE differences in the stats of my m/m vs femslash fics which I think sums it up pretty well

All my original projects have female main characters, with a sapphic relationship being the main one, even if it's not a romance focused plot (because to be honest, I'm not a huge romance fan, and much prefer when the romance is a background thing to a bigger plot, it's just that it would be nice if those smaller romances happened to be lesbian haha). And like I've mentioned, I make and plan a lot of femslash fandom content. But I just.... don't feel like sharing it when these are the responses I receive. It makes me feel bad, and want to stop making it all together. So I'd rather keep it to myself and just have fun that way, so I never have the opportunity to feel bad about it. I couldn't tell you the amount of Shinomitsu fics and ideas I have just rotting in my drafts, as just one example

I think fandom as a whole is so centered around m/m that it almost feels like an unspoken rule that m/m ships are cooler, better, more popular—you can ship f/f , of course, but doing it is almost like a statement, or it’s a random side-pairing that people throw in there to even things out or something.

I think you're very much onto something with the above statement. To fandom, male characters and m/m are simply the default. That's what you do. You go insane over the male characters and male ships, and we can sprinkle in an f/f pairing in the background, but to do anything more is to alienate yourself. You often end up in pockets of other sapphics because they're the only ones who... care. Which isn't bad. I love my fandom experience mostly consisting of engagement with other sapphics, but again, it does have that edge of sucking because you know this is the case because most other demographics simply do not gaf. When most sapphics are not the same way! So many of us still greatly enjoy male characters and m/m, a lot of them probably even more than me, but it just... doesn't go the opposite direction with femslash.

People may be engaging with more femslash outside of a fandom space due to that inherent default focus on the male characters and m/m like you said, but some might not be. And either way, it still kinda sucks that fandoms just... are more male-centric

It's one of those cases where I think fandom is reflecting an implicit societal bias, but no one wants to acknowledge that because they want to paint fandom as inherently progressive. "We don't hate women, look at all our gay ships! How could we be weird about women?" *proceeds to hate or ignore every female character ever, or come up with fifty billion excuses for why female characters are actually just NEVER interesting* and... it just makes me sigh. I think you see another version of this when it comes to characters of color vs white and light skinned characters, but we won't get into that tangent here

Because, despite what they seem to want to believe, people within fandoms are part of the world and society at large. Those prejudices are going to carry over, and pretending they don't doesn't help anything. There is going to be misogyny, and racism, and transphobia, and transmisogyny, because it exists in the real world. Just because we're playing fictional pretend doesn't mean those things have vanished. And I think being consciously aware of that is the best way to avoid it and do better. Acknowledging you could be doing these things, working not to, and actually listening if someone points it out and not just going straight into denial. I bring up the misogyny most often because that's what I feel most qualified to point out and address, but I ofc think it's equally important to point out the other issues as well, and I try very hard to like. listen if other people do so, esp when they are part of those demographics that suffer from the prejudice

This has gotten rather long winded and serious haha, I didn't really mean to, but when it comes to female characters and femslash within fandoms, esp in comparison to m/m, I feel like it's something that needs to get brought up

There is very much a facet of this where I just genuinely attach more to female characters and get more interested in them, but I also like to focus on them so much to try and combat this issue. Which is why I'm once again posting a lot more femslash rather than just hoarding it all away just for myself. Even if hardly anyone engages with it, it's out there, which makes things a little better

I dunno. I always say I care most about the plot and dynamics of a story. Because, well, I do. If you described me two stories, and one had a plot that sounded interesting and characters I would get attached to, but they were all guys, vs a story about lesbians but the plot just sounds boring to me, I'm going to pick the former.

But... if you give me two stories that both sound equally engaging to me, I'm going to pick the female character centric-one over the male character centric-one in a heartbeat, and I just wish I was able to more often make that choice rather than the other one

Plot, character dynamics, all of that, is fundamentally always going to be the most important part of it all to me. But I can't deny that I attach to female characters so much more intensely as well, which tends to leave me in such an odd position a lot of wanting to engage with female character-centric things, but the actual story of them is just NOT as interesting as something male-centric. So I want to do what I can to help fix that, and I hope others start to think and do the same as well

ANYWAYS!!!! This got so incredibly long and rambly, but I hope this wall of word vomit at least somewhat answered your question?

[atopvisenyashill]

Ok so hiiii....I think some of the stuff you post is great although I'm not a believer in Sansa QiTn so...I would really like for you to convince...oh and Bran ruling from harrenhal makes the most sense I don't understand why people would say anything else....oh I so feel like House Martell is heading for extinction...2nd question why do you think Aegon the iii amd viserys II didn't have something done about Rhaenyra being recognised as queen in the history books...I mean I feel like it could literally been a raven to the citadel or to the 7k... although the citadel is on oldtown sooo....but anyway thanks I appreciate it .

POINT ONE: Sansa QITN

Well firstly…..and pls note I am be ribbing you a little but I mean it in a hee hee ha ha way not a mean way.....but if you believe that Bran will rule from Harrenhal.....why wouldn't Sansa rule the North? Obviously there's a lot that's up in the air about what's happening with Rickon but if it’s not likely Rickon is getting out of this whole thing alive….and if Bran is king in the south…..whomst is next in line? She's the next oldest, and if Bran is not the Stark in Winterfell, that means either Rickon needs a regent or Rickon is also not the Stark in Winterfell (either because he is in the South as Bran's heir or dead). Why wouldn't being The Stark In Winterfell fall to Sansa?

But beyond that. So much of Sansa’s story is involved with the politics of the series and so much of Sansa's story centers around her learning what not to do as a leader. There's lots about her having the temperament and skills of a Queen and parallels between her and other Queen characters.

“You,” Ned said, kissing her lightly on the brow, “will marry a king and rule his castle, and your sons will be knights and princes and lords and, yes, perhaps even a High Septon.” Arya screwed up her face. "No," she said, "that's Sansa."

"I've never seen an aurochs," Sansa said, feeding a piece of bacon to Lady under the table. The direwolf took it from her hand, as delicate as a queen. Septa Mordane sniffed in disapproval. "A noble lady does not feed dogs at her table," she said, breaking off another piece of comb and letting the honey drip down onto her bread. "She's not a dog, she's a direwolf," Sansa pointed out as Lady licked her fingers with a rough tongue.

She is good at this, he thought, as he watched her tell Lord Gyles that his cough was sounding better, compliment Elinor Tyrell on her gown, and question Jalabhar Xho about wedding customs in the Summer Isles. His cousin Ser Lancel had been brought down by Ser Kevan, the first time he’d left his sickbed since the battle. He looks ghastly. Lancel’s hair had turned white and brittle, and he was thin as a stick. Without his father beside him holding him up, he would surely have collapsed. Yet when Sansa praised his valor and said how good it was to see him getting strong again, both Lancel and Ser Kevan beamed. She would have made Joffrey a good queen and a better wife if he’d had the sense to love her. He wondered if his nephew was capable of loving anyone.

Ahead he glimpsed a pale white trunk that could only be a weirwood, crowned with a head of dark red leaves.

In their midst was a pale stranger; a slender young weirwood with a trunk as white as a cloistered maid. Dark red leaves sprouted from its reaching branches.

There's the Naerys-Sansa parallels, which I went into detail about here and here - not only does Joffrey compare himself to Aegon the Unworthy, and Tyrion compare himself to Viserys II, but Sansa compares Margaery and Loras to Bethany Bracken and the Toyne Brothers. So who is Naerys? Obviously it's Sansa. Then there's the fact that she's named for a Sansa Stark that was meant to inherit but ultimately has to marry her nephew and rule only as his wife rather than ruling lady herself. That part of the Stark family tree isn't just thrown in for giggles - in fact there are several changes and elaborations to the family trees in recent years that were added specifically to parallel and foreshadow the main plot (see also: little Daenerys dying of the shivering sickness after being denied the "princess of dragonstone" title by her father).

And there's plenty that shows she's clearly learning from the mistakes of the people around her-

"The night’s first traitors,” the queen said, “but not the last, I fear. Have Ser Ilyn see to them, and put their heads on pikes outside the stables as a warning.” As they left, she turned to Sansa. “Another lesson you should learn, if you hope to sit beside my son. Be gentle on a night like this and you’ll have treasons popping up all about you like mushrooms after a hard rain. The only way to keep your people loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy.” “I will remember, Your Grace,” said Sansa, though she had always heard that love was a surer route to the people’s loyalty than fear. If I am ever a queen, I’ll make them love me.

She never knew why she got to her feet, but she did. “Don’t be afraid,” she told them loudly. “The queen has raised the drawbridge. This is the safest place in the city..." [...] Sansa raised her hands for quiet. “Joffrey’s come back to the castle. He’s not hurt. They’re still fighting, that’s all I know, they’re fighting bravely. The queen will be back soon.” The last was a lie, but she had to soothe them. She noticed the fools standing under the galley. “Moon Boy, make us laugh.”

Lancel was one of them, yet somehow she still could not bring herself to wish him dead. I am soft and weak and stupid, just as Joffrey says. I should be killing him, not helping him.

And of course there's plenty pointing to the idea that Petyr has some Queenly plans for her and that Sansa is trying to get out from under his thumb.

"You would not believe half of what is happening in King’s Landing, sweetling. Cersei stumbles from one idiocy to the next, helped along by her council of the deaf, the dim, and the blind. I always anticipated that she would beggar the realm and destroy herself, but I never expected she would do it quite so fast. It is quite vexing. I had hoped to have four or five quiet years to plant some seeds and allow some fruits to ripen, but now … it is a good thing that I thrive on chaos. What little peace and order the five kings left us will not long survive the three queens, I fear.” “Three queens?” She did not understand. Nor did Petyr choose to explain.

This morning her eye was caught by a parti-colored gown of Tully red and blue, lined with vair... “And you’d best change as well.” Alayne looked down at her dress, the deep blue and rich dark red of Riverrun. “Is it too—” “It is too Tully. The Lords Declarant will not be pleased by the sight of my bastard daughter prancing about in my dead wife’s clothes. Choose something else. Need I remind you to avoid sky blue and cream?” “No.” Sky blue and cream were the colors of House Arryn. “Eight, you said … Bronze Yohn is one of them?” “The only one who matters.” “Bronze Yohn knows me,” she reminded him. “He was a guest at Winterfell when his son rode north to take the black.” She had fallen wildly in love with Ser Waymar, she remembered dimly, but that was a lifetime ago, when she was a stupid little girl. “And that was not the only time. Lord Royce saw … he saw Sansa Stark again at King’s Landing, during the Hand’s tourney.”

"I dreamt of a maid at a feast with purple serpents in her hair, venom dripping from their fangs. And later I dreamt that maid again, slaying a savage giant in a castle built of snow."

no, this isn't about her ripping the dolls head off. The castle made of snow is clearly Winterfell, and the savage giant is clearly Littlefinger (his sigil is literally a Titan). All of this to say - she's going home and she's going to be instrumental in rebuilding Winterfell.

Then there's all this stuff about her claim. No one will ever love her for her claim, everyone wants her for her claim - it's important, it's integral to her story that she must be aware of who she is marrying because of her claim. That's not about to go away any time soon! And why does it echo so often in her story specifically?

And for all the "well she watches politics but she's not involved in them" arguments (not accusing you of this, just bringing it up). a) that's stupid don't pmo, and b) she's the only character with an arc like this. an arc that is completely predicated on her seeing and learning rather than doing. She is the only character to come into contact with basically every great house (Tyrell, Lannister, Baratheon, Tully, Stark, Martell, Greyjoy, and Arryn) and so many of the lesser but still noble and highly regarded houses such as Redwyne, Royce, Dondarrion, etc. She is the protege (however unwilling) of not one but two of the biggest political players in Littlefinger and Cersei. She is on friendly terms with several Tyrells, several Royces, arguably Tyrion & Lancel Lannister, arguably Myrcella Baratheon, and is acting as a surrogate mother to the current Lord of the Eyrie, Sweetrobin. She has all of these connections from her mother's house and allies in the Riverlands, she's currently building up a host of knights who are both untested and eager for battle and loyal only to her and Sweetrobin (the Winged Knights), and she has Jon arguing for her right to rule Winterfell all the way at the Wall.

Do you know what I call that? I call that setup!

POINT TWO: MARTELLS

Ya that’s a common thought that the Martells are fucked and I’m not saying it’s not a fear I have but I think it really sucks, in a decidedly racist way, to introduce a family motivated by the brutal rape and murder of a woman in their family, destroyed by grief & clawing their way back onto the stage, only to get summarily wiped out with a finger wagging aesop's fable esque moral about how revenge is always wrong. Beyond the optics of it (which I cannot stress enough, the optics are racist) that, to me, doesn't really fit with the much more nuanced discussions of revenge throughout the story. Even in similarly orientalist storylines like Meereen, there is a lot of discussion of violence, when violence is necessary, when violence is unnecessary, when violence is necessary but people are using it as an excuse because they just really like killing, and the effect of violence on everyone from the top of the pyramid to the bottom. The idea that all the Martells are going to wiped out because "revenge is bad" is just silly.

It’s also like. I mean but HOW are ALL of them dying? They’re not like the Baratheons, or Targaryens, where there’s only 2 or 3 and they're in deep shit. I think things look bleak for for some of the Sand Snakes and the Lyanna parallelism with Elia makes me nervous, and also Doran is just old and sick, but like. Arianne? Trystane? Sarella? They all feel fine to me! I think people forget how many Martells there are, frankly, and how scattered about they are. It's not like you can take out the entire family tree with one hit!

POINT THREE: Aegon & Rhaenyra

I think acknowledging Rhaenyra as queen was something Aegon felt was impossible politically and Viserys felt was unnecessary. I think we’ll see, not dissimilar from Corlys, that Viserys sees getting Rhaenyra’s blood on the throne as “good enough” because he’s missing The Point.

For the beginning of Aegon’s reign, he doesn’t have a lot of real power & very few clear allies, and I think that gives him pause when he first comes of age. I think by the time he dies, he doesn’t really have the political goodwill to acknowledge her. His mother is not fondly remembered, the dragons are all dead, and Aegon himself is a very withdrawn, little seen and little loved ruler. I’m fairly positive it occurs to him, but what can he do, even as king, when he himself is not popular and doesn’t seem to do much to make himself so? IMO this is part of why daeron & baelor are so insane - they watched their father board himself up in the red keep and drown in his misery, and he never accomplished anything except living and dying with that crown forced on his head. He didn’t feel like he COULD do anything, and he probably didn’t try because of his despair.

[frigid-moon-fall]

Reaching out to the people doing scans was a great decision. You have no idea how long I spent staring at a listing for the Kratos novel last month, fighting myself because it's so freaking expensive compared to all the other novels... I could get like 10 novels for the same price... 40 if it's from a specific store during a campaign. And nobody seemed to care about the novels (hadn't seen the Phantasia ones being uploaded yet at the time), so who else was going to do it...!! Ended up deciding against it because it's Symphonia, the favorite child, and if anyone was going to give a crap about any of the Tales series novelizations, it'd be Symphonia's, and if they were going to care about any specific novel, it'd definitely be that one, so I might as well pour my blood love into the less popular entries. (And for once, I was right!)

That is to say, I have quite a few Tales novels on the way, and I will also be scanning them (though with a very ancient, borrowed scanner), and there shouldn't be any overlap with what Kevan33 is graciously doing. Here's hoping the box doesn't get lost in the mail :') Hasn't shipped yet, because I'm waiting on one more book to reach the warehouse, which I was only able to afford because I reached out. I would have wasted money getting a few novels that were already going to be scanned. (jfc this one book is also about the same price as the Kratos novel.... But I have a bit of a confusing Personal Investment in this particular one now that I'll share once it's in my hands.)

I wonder if I should try to contact the person going by Stahn's name on archive too? If I'd overlap with anyone, it'd probably be someone named for Destiny stuff. I mean, I guess it doesn't matter if I'd overlap with them since the novels are already bought and paid for and I couldn't get a refund even if I tried. And also they seem to only be uploading guidebooks. (Which are also super heckin' cool because they also have lore in them)

It'll be like 4 months before the box gets here, and it's not just the Destiny novels. So I guess I'll post a list of everything I'll be ripping/scanning just in case. I'd love it if more people did this stuff, so if there's anyone interested in buying stuff like this to continue to archive it (it's not like anyone who contributed to making them is making money off of them anymore. At least, I'm pretty sure they aren't), here's a list of stuff I've already got coming so you can cross it off your own list.

Tales of Destiny novels (tl;dr: ALL OF THEM):

ルーティのルール

青の記憶

天地戦争編

運命をつぐもの上巻

運命をつぐもの下巻

蒼黒の想い上巻

蒼黒の想い下巻

Tales of Destiny 2 novels (tl;dr: ALL OF THEM):

英雄を探す少女

二人の聖女

運命の果てに

蒼黒の追憶上巻

蒼黒の追憶中巻

蒼黒の追憶下巻

朱鷺色の風

Tales of Eternia novels (NOT all of them):

蒼天の星上巻

蒼天の星下巻

暁の約束上巻

暁の約束下巻

リッドのとかげ

キールの希望

(For those keeping track, that means what remains of Eternia is all 3 volumes of 永遠のきざはし, and 聖エルモの灯.)

Misc:

テイルズリング アーカイブ EPIC TWO ～英雄の飛翔～

テイルズオブカウントダウン DVD

テイルズ オブ シンフォニア 4コマミニミニ大図鑑

Do As Infinity - TAO (early demo)

(Note: The Countdown DVD has been partially uploaded and even partially subtitled before, but the full thing has not been uploaded before! I don't know if there's anything hiding on the Peach Gummy DVD (which has been uploaded before) too, but the cheapest way to get the Countdown DVD was in a bundle with that, so I guess I'll have that too. Also I didn't buy anything for the early demo, but I do have the mp3 sitting around from.. somewhere? I swear I got it from Abyssal Chronicles way back when Legendia was first unveiled, but I couldn't find it anywhere even on archived versions of the site. It's clearly an earlier draft of the song and the vocalist is also very clearly Tomiko Van. I couldn't find any mention of this thing anywhere, so am I sitting on Lost Media? Or would uploading it be pointless?)

Misc whose names I'm obscuring because I'm not actually sure if the artists are still making money off of them, give me advice pls

The DVD with the pachislot animation on it. I'm not sure if it's been uploaded in full (none of the few compilations say so), but it's probably never been uploaded in its full quality. I might upload just the video without the audio.

The artbook of the artist of the TODDC manga. I don't know if it's been uploaded in full before. (I found it for pretty cheap, or else I might not have bothered...) Actually, I'd rather someone else with a better scanner and a willingness to unbind it (I'm not unbinding any of these; my hands aren't steady enough) to scan this anyway, so maybe go for this one anyway if you're looking to get stuff scanned.

Also secured by someone else is Tales of Destiny 2's manga, Tales of Destiny Director's Cut's manga, and the French localization of Tales of Destiny's first manga. The first two are already scanned, plans to scan the last one, but I'm not sure if they want to upload them to archive. They are absolutely willing to give them to people who would want to translate them, though.

[seiwas]

op i am in love with this oh my god

everything abt this op, i adore so much—the characterisation, the writing, the pacing, the dialogue oh my god THE DIALOGUE!!!! it's sooooo good!! i so love their dynamic and the way you inject how reader/bakugo feels in little statements like this: he's a proper distraction from the pain at least. <- it shows so much of how reader views him in such a subtle sentence UGH i love it.

there's also the little ways katsuki cares. i am such a sucker for subtle intimacy, and i think this counts as one of them—the candy he hides beneath ointments and bandages (pls omFg that is so sweet)

and there's this line i love too: you read him like a book, finger the pages, read between the lines. <- it's so pretty!!

i love the way you characterised katsuki. how of course he feels bad about it and beats himself up. ofc he feels guilty, esp since he knows it's truly his fault.

 "And who's fault is that." He grins, light and easy and gone in an instant, with a flash of realization, guilt that reaches his eyes and worries his brow. It's his, still. <- this bit rlly got to me... bc he was just joking!!! but realised it in the middle 😭😭

He decides it's easier to turn his back to them, to you - again. It's always the same song and dance, one step forward, two steps back. <- OFC he chooses not to confront asdbgsjad

there's smth abt their dynamic that appeals to me so much too!! i think it's largely bc of the way reader was set up 🥺 how their personality challenges his, complements him in a way that matches his spunk!! they tease him and know just what gets him to move 🤧 when he bits at the bait OUUUUUGHH i go insane:

Warm fingers encircle your wrist and you bite your tongue suppress the laugh inching its way up your throat. Predictable, cute. It takes everything in you not to grin.

how he holds out his hand and reader puts their own?? and he's like 'the ointment, idiot' but he lets the hand linGER??? omg R U KIDDING ME OP. that GESTURE HAS ME SDBAS. THEN he grabs the other hand too ??!??!!? such small gestures but. i love how u put them under a microscope sjdhfbdjsa

i love the tiptoeing between them. how their relationship is teetering on a string, ready to tip over. the tension in their interactions now and the one that started to blur it all AAAH

You grin, fingers gently curling around his own. It's not meant to be romantic, the way he draws you forward, presses your knuckles to his chest. He's just trying to get a better look at the wound, head tilting this way and that. But his hand is so warm, and he's so pretty from this angle, and when his eyes rise to meet yours his breath hitches in his throat; and so does yours. <- my breath did indeed hitch at this my GOd

not when he crowded you against the wall, not when his big hand fell to the space beside your head, or when his face dipped to linger just close enough to have your heart beating wildly in your chest. <- this was so hot op h my GOOOOOOD icb he did this

You would be, should be, if it was anyone else. Big, leering, all rippling muscle and explosive temper - but it was Bakugou, your mentor, your best friend, heart of a hero and handsome as hell. You've loved him as long as you've known him. <- full on crying at thiS

He'd grinned, leaned forward til' his lips found yours, deeper, sweeter than you'd ever imagined, and gods you had, too many times <- the GRIN!! i can't stop thinking abt the GRIN 😭😭😭

i am also such a huge sucker for callbacks in writing, and you did that here op omg it was so cute 😭:

"Quit bein' a baby." Bakugou's bark holds no bite, touch softening until his rough fingers border featherlight. "Yer a hero, r'member."

their back-and-forth banter is so satisfying too. how reader watches out for him and tells him he wouldn't have been able to handle it (but he insists he does—eyes behind his head. and there's a whole 'remember seeing you almost whacked in the head' — need to get eyes checked — hearing too bc heard him like a crybaby AAAH idk!! just!! i love this kind of challenge for him 🥺

reader is so dramatic to him and i find it so funny 😭 the forehead flick and how they throw themselves over his lap, teasing!! UGHH then how he presses a kiss to reader's forehead?!???! HELLLOOOOOGUUGH????

his thumb absently strokes the soft underside of your wrist but his gaze doesn't linger. A hint of a blush creeps up his neck, eyes fixated on the opposite corner of the room. "Done bein' a crybaby?" <- this iS SOOOOOO intimate i wanna cry sahdbfsj and the callback to being a crybaby too omg 😭 everything abt this just feels so well-rounded op

"Whether or not you have eyes on the back of your head." He ignores your teasing, so you press a little further, tease a little more. "Either you don't," you squeeze him tighter, closer, smush your cheek against his back. "Or you totally just let me hug you." <-i was squEALING icb reader did that 😭 there's so much comfort in this, and intimacy, that only a reader as gutsy as the one you made can deliver

Finally he catches you, two big hands clamped down on either shoulder. You wait for him to scold you, tongue between your teeth, bated breath in your lungs. But he only grunts, fingers curling around the base of your neck until he can slant his lips over your own; You sigh, it's the second time Katsuki Bakugou's lips have been on yours. But they no longer taste of saltines, white wine, impulse or hesitation; it's not some drunken mistake or whimsy he'll pretend to have forgotten by morning. This time he's kissing you because he wants to. Because the feelings he harbors are just the same as yours. <- SCREAMED AT THIS. COMPLETELY, OP like, i love the way this paragraph flows but also ICB THE KISS OH MY GOD. the tiPPING point.

and there's another pretty paragraph: And when he pulls away his red eyes have mellowed, a dull amber, an expectant cinnabar. There's a palpable silence, one beat, two, three - possibly. His impatience gets the better of him. "Well?" <- a dull amber, an expectant cinnabar (your descriptions are so good op!!) and you characterise him being impatient too UGH so good

and ok op, i know am copy pasting so much and reacting so crazily but this entire sequence just!!! makes me ache in all the good ways oh my god:

He sucks on his teeth. "Cute huh?" His hand cups your wrist, thumbs the bandage, careful, cute. "I nearly cooked ya and 'm 'cute?'"

"There's somethin' wrong with you."

"Yeah, it's called the guy I like is completely oblivious and won't tell me he likes me."

"I kissed you, twice. If ya didn't take the hint, that's on you."

and when reader smiles when they repeatedly kiSS HIM oh my god and tells him: What? Didn't you take the hint?" You slant your mouth over his, linger a little longer this time. "I like you." You kiss him again, again, again. <- the callback, the flirting, their chemiSTRY OP you built everything up so well and wrote everything so well AND I AM JUSTTT A MELTED PUDDLE RN

this is barely coherent, but thank u so much for writing this op 🥺  i adore this piece so much!!!

pro hero!bakugou x sidekick!reader | fluff, mutual pining, blatant flirting, bakugou calls reader darlin', bakugou is soft(ish) | cw: injury, mentions of alcohol, name calling (idiot), kisses kisses kisses

-bakugou tends to your injury, pining for you nearly as much as you do for him-

Your arm burns in waves, like kindling fire, the plain between your elbow and wrist a bramble of red and purple. It stings like a million tiny thorns pricking your skin.

"Why'd ya get in the way, idiot!" Bakugou's words are fierce and his brow is drawn, but you see the way his cheeks flush. He's embarrassed, guilt-ridden though it's not his fault. Not really.

You were both too overzealous for your own goods, determined to land the final blow on the villains. But his quirk was bigger, more explosive, harder to stop when your hands inevitably collided. You're just lucky your arm took the brunt of it.

Still, you smile despite the pain and his frown deepens, "What? Ya hit yer head too?"

You take a step forward, then two, crossing the threshold of your front door, reveling in the way his blush travels to his ears. "Did you come all the way here just to nag me?" There's a lilt of amusement in your voice, and he huffs, exasperation on his breath. "Or are you finally gonna give me that?"

You point to the bag dangling from his fingertips, pharmacy label half hidden by his baggy combat trousers. He's still in costume, mask pushed up over his wild, blonde hair, light sheen of sweat dotting his forehead and shoulders.

He's a proper distraction from the pain at least.

His gaze falls to his own hand, as if he'd entirely forgotten. There's a palpable moment of hesitation, and then he grunts, knuckles clenching; he thrusts it against your chest.

"Did'ya sterilize it, at least?"

You're half listening, shuffling through the contents of the bag. "Mhm, rinsed it with water when I got home."

"Yer hopeless, darlin'."

You shrug, "If a little burn could take me out, I wouldn't be much of a hero, now would I?"

He snorts, "If ya were such a good hero, you'd have dodged in the first place."

"You think?" You humor his attitude, heart swelling in your chest when you spot your favorite candy hidden beneath the ointments and bandages. You have half a mind to tease him about it. "Are you gonna help me put this on?"

His arms fold across his chest, half a scowl twisting his face. He leans back, tapping a heavy boot against the floorboards. "And why would I do that?"

He must think he's subtle but you read him like a book, finger the pages, read between the lines. There's worry in his brow, guilt, turmoil, anger directed at his own self.

You figured it would help alleviate his conscience, at least.

"That's fine. I'll get around to it eventually." You turn on your heel, adding a cheeky "probably" to accentuate the wave of your hand, nudge him into action. It works.

Warm fingers encircle your wrist and you bite your tongue, suppress the laugh inching it's way up your throat. Predictable, cute. It takes everything in you not to grin.

Two big hands push you down by the shoulders, cushions folding beneath your thighs. Bakugou holds a palm out expectantly and you place your own atop his, reveling in the way his nose scrunches in frustration.

You don't miss the way he lets it linger - just for a moment - before finally swatting it away with a half-hearted flick of the wrist. "The ointment, idiot."

You relent, handing him the thin white tube. He spreads a stripe down his fingertips, seat dipping beside you; he extends his opposite hand. "Now your hand."

You grin, fingers gently curling around his own. It's not meant to be romantic, the way he draws you forward, presses your knuckles to his chest. He's just trying to get a better look at the wound, head tilting this way and that. But his hand is so warm, and he's so pretty from this angle, and when his eyes rise to meet yours his breath hitches in his throat; and so does yours.

It's intimate, familiar.

It makes you want to break whatever this unspoken 'something' is that the two of you have fostered - this growing affection you're both too proud to admit that wears on you, leaves you yearning to lean just a little closer and finally concede.

Just like all those nights ago, when he got a little too drunk at the hero convention, quickly annoyed by the crowds and reporters, the loud, boasting heroes. His champagne glass was quickly emptied once more, grunting when he pushed back in his chair. You remember leaning closer, close enough to discretely ask if he was alright. His red hot stare followed, burned through your chest and down to your core, left you shifting restlessly in your seat.

The air was thick when he finally careened upward, swaying perilously as he took you by the wrist, led you up and out of the dining hall until it was just the two of you, alone in an empty corridor. You could still hear the echo of stranger's voices, but it didn't bother him, not when he crowded you against the wall, not when his big hand fell to the space beside your head, or when his face dipped to linger just close enough to have your heart beating wildly in your chest.

"What about the party?"

"'as boring." He'd replied, fingers 'round your wrist, lingering on your pulse; he feels it stutter beneath his touch. "Ya scared?"

You would be, should be, if it was anyone else. Big, leering, all rippling muscle and explosive temper - but it was Bakugou, your mentor, your best friend, heart of a hero and handsome as hell. You've loved him as long as you've known him.

"No."

He'd grinned, leaned forward til' his lips found yours, deeper, sweeter than you'd ever imagined, and gods you had, too many times.

"Good."

You're so lost in thought that you miss the way skin meets skin, thin buffer of ointment between you, and it burns - his fingers against your aching forearm. Your cheeky smile twists into a grimace and you can almost taste his guilt.

"Quit bein' a baby." Bakugou's bark holds no bite, touch softening until his rough fingers border featherlight. "Yer a hero, r'member."

You watch as he carefully applies the medicine, touch gentling each time you flinch until he's barely touching you at all.

"You've said that a lot today. 'Hero'." You muse. "It's usually sidekick this, sidekick that."

He shoots you a look before wiping the ointment from his fingers. "Yer my sidekick."

"Yeah?" You tilt your head, leaning forward to rest your chin on your unattended hand. "And what's the difference?"

He could answer you honestly, if he wanted. You're capable, brave, strong in your own right - beautiful to boot. You're the best of the best; Bakugou would never settle for less after all. Not that he was going to admit that.

Instead his lips twist in amusement, curling, lopsided, askew; you realize you won't be getting a straight answer.

"Ya should know by now when t' stay out of my way, is the difference." He pulls a bandage as big as his fist from the bag, pressing one corner to the flat of your palm, working it up and around until it reaches your wrist, and further still. "Was perfectly capable of handlin' it on my own."

"Seemed like you had your hands full with the big guy," you quip back, rubbing your thumb absently over the scratchy bandage. "Was I supposed to watch while the other one pummeled you from behind?"

He quirks a brow, you're not sure if he's annoyed or amused. "Woulda been fine. How d'ya think I made it to the top twenty, 've practically got eyes on the back of my head."

"You sure? Think I recall a time or two you've been whacked upside the head."

His eyes stray for only a moment, simmering up at you beneath dark lashes. "Think we might need t' get yer eyes checked, darlin', seems yer seein' things."

"Guess I need a hearing test too, since I remember you being a total crybaby about it."

He centers the tips of his thumb and pointer just above your brow, fingertips bouncing off your forehead, a tepid flick! and he's resuming his handiwork.

"Hey!" you pout, rubbing the offended area with your unfettered hand. "I'm a patient, you're supposed to be nice to me!"

"And who's fault is that." He grins, light and easy and gone in an instant, with a flash of realization, guilt that reaches his eyes and worries his brow. It's his, still.

You sigh, "Look at me." And he does, begrudgingly as it may be. "It's not your fault. I should have trusted you more. And you should have trusted me. We're both idiots so quit blaming yourself." You lightly flick his forehead in return; he doesn't flinch, eyes never leaving your own. "Finish the wrapping and we'll call it even, yeah?"

He grumbles something lost on you, stretching the last bit of fabric beneath your elbow and tucking it into itself. He turns your arm over in his palm, lightly, carefully inspecting it before leaning back against the cushions. You can feel his guilt dissipate, the stress in his shoulders slowly deflating.

"Ya hurt anywhere else?" His voice is low, quiet. He desperately hopes not.

You think for a moment, read his face, his body language, and then you're rubbing the space above your brow, faking a pout if only to lighten the mood. "Yeah, some brute bruised my forehead earlier, think it needs medical attention."

He crosses his arms, muscles flexing, brow tightening in discontent. "I'm being serious."

You struggle to suppress the laugh bubbling up in your chest. "So am I. What a devastating injury, I fear I won't live long." You dramatically throw yourself over his lap, knuckles laid flat over your brow. There's a conflicting look in his eye; you struggle to read it. "If only a big, handsome hero woul-"

You nearly miss the annoyed huff, the subtle roll of his eyes, too enamored in the way he encircles your wrist with one big hand, guides it to rest against his chest before leaning down and pressing his lips to your forehead.

You're sure there's hearts in your eyes when he straightens his shoulders, hand still idle against his heartbeat; his thumb absently strokes the soft underside of your wrist but his gaze doesn't linger. A hint of a blush creeps up his neck, eyes fixated on the opposite corner of the room. "Done bein' a crybaby?"

You try and fail, miserably so, to hide the delight dancing in your chest and curling your toes. There's a grin splitting your cheeks when you sit up, face an inch from his own. "Mhm."

You can feel his breath, his hesitation, the slippery, fluttering feelings he's struggling to catch, and name, and put into words. He decides it's easier to turn his back to them, to you - again.

It's always the same song and dance, one step forward, two steps back.

He's up in a moment, fidgeting with his tank, his gloves, his mask, anything he can get his hands on. You sigh, pushing off the couch, taking one step, two, arms wrapping snug around his middle. "What're ya doin'?"

"Checking something."

"And what's that?"

"Whether or not you have eyes on the back of your head." He ignores your teasing, so you press a little further, tease a little more. "Either you don't," you squeeze him tighter, closer, smush your cheek against his back. "Or you totally just let me hug you."

He croons his head to stare you down, if looks could kill, you'd be very very toasty right about now. Still you laugh, hide your smile in the shadow of his broad shoulders, tip toe around him when twists around to face you.

Finally he catches you, two big hands clamped down on either shoulder. You wait for him to scold you, tongue between your teeth, bated breath in your lungs. But he only grunts, fingers curling around the base of your neck until he can slant his lips over your own.

You sigh, it's the second time Katsuki Bakugou's lips have been on yours. But they no longer taste of saltines, white wine, impulse or hesitation; it's not some drunken mistake or whimsy he'll pretend to have forgotten by morning. This time he's kissing you because he wants to. Because the feelings he harbors are just the same as yours.

And when he pulls away his red eyes have mellowed, a dull amber, an expectant cinnabar. There's a palpable silence, one beat, two, three - possibly. His impatience gets the better of him. "Well?"

You stifle a laugh, keen up at him, hands absently against his chest. "Well what?"

"What d'ya mean 'well what'?!"

What ever self control you had wavers, the incredulous look in his eyes sending you over the edge until your devolving into a fit of laughter.

"What's so funny, huh?"

"'m sorry." The laughter rattles you, chest like a suitcase too small to pack away the joy that fills you, spills over the brim in fits of laughter. It's infectious; Bakugou grins.

Your hands cup his cheeks. "You're too cute not to tease."

He sucks on his teeth. "Cute huh?" His hand cups your wrist, thumbs the bandage, careful, cute. "I nearly cooked ya and 'm 'cute?'"

You lean forward, bump your nose against his. "Mhm."

"There's somethin' wrong with you."

"Yeah, it's called the guy I like is completely oblivious and won't tell me he likes me."

"I kissed you, twice. If ya didn't take the hint, that's on you."

You're smiling when you press your lips to his - quick, tepid, chaste, and over and over and over again.

He breaks away, eyes full of suspicion. "What was that for?"

"What? Didn't you take the hint?" You slant your mouth over his, linger a little longer this time. "I like you." You kiss him again, again, again.

He snorts, palm falling to the small of your back, big hand heavy on your skin. "Point taken."

He dips his head low, kisses you, soft and slow, fingers flexing against your shirt, dragging you closer when you move to pull back. "I like ya." His breath is hot against your mouth. "Always have."

[book-place]

Sleigh Ride

Warnings: bad friends, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Damian Wayne x reader platonic

Request: Ok then, can I pls request a batfam x reader (its mainly w damian) who's super oblivious? But they're friends with Damian eventho he's super harsh w her, but she knows he doesn't mean any of it. He had recently invited her to come and celebrate Christmas w him at the manor, but you kindly declined. You said you were going to another friend's house for Christmas. This would've been ok if it wasn't at Patricia's house. He absolutely despises Patricia. Patricia is bratty and always interrupts when you are talking then continues to take you away from him (he always tries his best not to be jealous or fight her). Anyways, the same day he overheard them talking trash about you, and that was his last straw.. So on, Christmas day, he offered to drive you to their house for the Christmas party Patricia was going to be holding. It took you about 3 minutes to realize that it wasn't the Way to her house. You asked where u were going, he admitted it was the way to the manor. After a while of bickering back and forth, you finally caved and agreed to go to the manor

Request by: @ladyagagaslefttoe

*not my gif*

Summary: Damian wasn’t happy when he heard who you were spending Christmas with

A/N: Welcome to Day 10 of Book Places 12 Days of Christmas Celebration

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

You hummed softly as you rocked back and forth on your heels, shivering slightly against the cold as you pulled your jacket around yourself tighter.

Your best friend, Damian, had told you he would pick you up for school so that you didn’t have to take the ‘foul smelling and splitting headache giving bus’ as he so kindly put it.

Not that you minded, you enjoyed hanging out with him, especially since it was the last day of school before winter break.

When Alfred’s car pulled into view, you picked your jacket up with a smile and waved at the man in the driver's seat before slipping in the back next to Damain.

“Morning, Dami!” You chirped, reaching over and buckling your seatbelt.

“Good morning.” He replied curtly.

“Thank you so much for the ride, Mr. Pennyworth!” You called excitedly, causing the man to look in the mirror at you with a twinkle in his eye.

“It is not at all a problem, Miss. Y/n.” He beamed.

The car ride was spent in a comfortable silence for the first few minutes with you happily kicking your legs back and forth and the boy beside you staring out the window.

“Come over to the manor for Christmas.” Damian said suddenly, and you looked up at him.

Though it sounded like a demand, you knew better. You had been best friends with the boy for about three years and you knew that though he acted harsh, it was normally just his way of showing he cared.

You frowned a little, “I would love to, Dami, but I already promised Patricia that I would go over to her house.”

His eyebrows furrowed at your words.

If it had been anyone else, any of the other millions of kids at school that you were friendly to, he would have just shrugged it off. But this wasn’t just any other student, this was Patricia.

The same Patricia that Damain had to physically strain himself not to fight. The girl that was always smirking and making rude comments towards you. The one that would always interrupt you when you were talking.

You being the nice- and slightly oblivious- person that you were, you just took it all with a smile, claiming that she didn’t do anything wrong and was your friend.

He set his jaw, “Oh? Is that so?”

You nodded happily, not even noticing the slight change in his demeanor the way you normally would, “Yeah! Oh, it’s going to be so fun! Her whole family will be there, and some of her other friends…”

Damian couldn’t even hear the rest, because if Patricia was bad when it was just the two of you, she was ten times worse when she was with all of her friends.

“… I just have to figure out how to get there because I don’t have a ride-“

Those words snapped the boy out of his small trance and an idea slowly started to formulate in his head.

“I can provide you a ride,” He spoke as casually as he could.

Your eyes lit up in excitement, “Really? Oh, thank you, Dami!” You threw your arms around him in a quick hug, to which he awkwardly patted your back.

Now all he had to do was make sure you didn’t catch onto his plan.

-•-

You watched your shoes as they tapped against the pavement to the small rhythm that you were humming softly under your breath, swaying back and forth a little bit from where you sat on a step of your porch.

It was finally Christmas and you were waiting for Damian to come pick you up to bring you to Patricia’s house.

When the car pulled up, you stood up with a grin, shivering a little bit against the cold and pulling your arms around yourself as you greeted Alfred and slid into your seat.

“Merry Christmas!” You exclaimed, smiling excitedly at your best friend.

He gave you a nod in return, “And to you.” He said.

“Oh my gosh!” You gushed, “It’s going to be so much fun at Patricia’s! And you can come too! Oh, I’m sure she won’t mind, especially since you gave me the ride-“ You cut yourself off as a slight frown pulled at your lips, “Wait, where are we going?” You inquired, turning to Alfred with a questioning expression.

Instead of turning down the street that would take you straight to where Patricia lived, the driver had turned the opposite way.

The man didn’t answer though, Damian did, “You’re not going over her house.” He said simply.

You laughed a little, “Where am I going then?” You thought he was joking and Alfred had just taken a wrong turn.

“To my house.” He replied with a shrug. Of course, he almost never joked.

“Why?” You asked, smile dropping.

“Because, Patricia is nothing but a brat who does not treat you with the respect that you deserve.” His hand was clenched into a knuckle at his side.

“What are you talking about?”

He sighed a little bit, “I’m bringing you to my home to celebrate Christmas with me and my family so that you will actually have a good time.”

“But Patricia-“

“Is always rude to you,” He interrupted, “She’s always interrupting and spitting out mean comments at you.”

Your frown deepened, “I don’t-“

“Think about it,” He said sternly, but not in a mean way.

So you did, silencing a little bit.

The more you thought about it, the more you realized that he was right. She would often change the subject when you were talking about something that interested you and would make snide remarks about your clothing choices.

“Oh,” You breathed out, feeling like an idiot as you looked down at your hands folded in your lap, eyes stinging slightly as they begin to pool with tears.

“You didn’t know,” Damain dismissed, looking you dead in the eyes, and you knew that it was his way of comforting you.

You looked over at him with a grateful smile and squeezed his hand once, “I would love to come over your house for Christmas, it’s going to be a lot of fun.”

The Superior Robin ❤️- @ineedmorefanfics2 @sambucky8 @spidyyparker @i-writes-things

[muldermuse]

A Hard Day: Fox Mulder X Reader

Today I had a hard day and I just want a fictional FBI agent to take care of me lol

A/N: References to poor mental health, depression, anxiety and crying.

If u have any prompts or Fox Mulder ideas pls send them my way honeyss

You had lost track of how long you had been sitting in the darkness. You had not taken your work clothes off and you were sitting upright staring at a wall. Your shirt was itchy and your shoes were tight but you had no energy to change into your pyjamas. Today was awful, that many things had gone wrong that it was bordering on slightly funny that it had been such a catastrophe. However, rather than laughing at the past ten hours, you felt completely numb and unable to process your emotions. You did not want to take care of yourself, that would be an effort and take energy that you currently did not possess.

The room was still, occasionally a flicker of light would scatter across the wall from the window overlooking the street. You considered staying like this all night, hoping that maybe your exhaustion would overcome your emotions and you’d pass out asleep without needing to move. You had struggled with your mental health for a while and you were largely in control of it, however, slip ups were natural and days like today reminded you of how far you’d come. Despite the sadness that weighed down your limbs, you appreciated that days like this were few and far between. That was largely due to medication, routine and your boyfriend, Fox Mulder.

Which reminded you, it was a Thursday and you had arranged for Fox to stay over. You had a Thursday routine of having a pre weekend bottle of beer, making a sandwich and eating chips in front of the TV until you both had to drag the other to bed. You’d chat idly about the week, a blanket covering you on your sofa as you watched the Golden Girls with his arm protectively over your shoulder. You loved it and whilst you saw him most weekends; there was something special about your Thursday tradition. It wouldn’t be fair on him to stay tonight, you didn’t want to cancel but you’d accepted your fate of sitting in your dark room and trying to keep your thoughts from getting more negative.

No answer, straight to his voicemail. “Hi Fox, I’m really sorry but can we reschedule? I think I’m coming down with something and don’t want you to get ill. I’ll speak to you tomorrow, love you.” Your voice was one note, you didn’t sound ill and he could read you like a book. Even over a voicemail, he’d be able to pick up on your tone and you hoped he wouldn’t question it. You decided to lie down on the sofa and wait for it to become a reasonable time to lie in bed.

***

The knock at the door scared the life out of you, you felt your anxiety rise in your throat as you tried to stop your hands trembling from the fright. You peered through the peephole even though you knew who it was; there stood Fox, his tie loose around his neck and clutching a brown grocery store bag. You exhaled deeply, willing your hands to stop shaking as you smiled before opening the door. He could see right through you but maybe it would be worth a shot.

“Hi,” your voice faltered, you needed to try and sound better than you did on the phone. “Didn’t you get my voicemail? I think I’m getting ill so it’s probably best you don’t stay tonight”. Your eyes trailed away from him as you finished your sentence; you couldn’t look at him as you lied. You felt your breathing start to become laboured as the hot prick of tears filled your eye line. You made your hands into fists; desperately trying to stop the tears from streaming down your face.

“No I got it,” his hand reached out to gently rub your shoulder but you still couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. “Even if you’re ill, I just thought you could use some company. You sounded upset on the phone and I was worried”. Your kind boyfriend, your sweet and loving partner who knew you better than anyone else ever had. Wordlessly, you stepped aside and let him enter your apartment. He pressed a kiss to your cheek as he flicked the light on and walked past you. You let out a shuddered breath and followed him to the kitchen counter. With every step you took; you felt a sob begin to form at the top of your throat.

“So firstly, I think it’s rude of you to get ill on a Thursday,” he smirked as he began to open the grocery bag he had placed on the counter. “We both agree that it is the best day of the week and I refuse to let this illness take this away from us. I got that soup you like from the store on Woodland, you know the one where we saw those really suspiciously large footprints in the produce aisle? I’m still trying to convince Scully that it’s an X File” His face lit up as he laughed, god, you loved him. You so desperately wanted to laugh with him but you knew as soon as you opened your mouth your body would betray you and tears would run down your face. You smiled back and tried to bury down the flicker of concern you saw in his eyes.

“I thought I could warm the soup up and whilst you got changed or had a hot shower? We could just sit on the sofa and watch Golden Girls together or Cops, I mean whatever is on.” Before you could interrupt, he continued as he made his way over to you with his arms outstretched as he brought you against him for a hug. "Then, for later- I mean if you’re feeling well enough, I bought those sour candies you like? They only had the huge bags so I suppose if you’re feeling sick that it’s probably the worst thing I could have brought you but still I th-“. As he held you tightly in his arms, you felt the tears start to come and you choked out a huge sob. He just held you tighter as you cried, his hands ran through your hair as you wept and wept and wept until you felt you had no liquid left to leave your tear ducts. You had no idea how long he’d been holding you, his shirt was wet with tears and your throat felt raw from your sobbing.

“Did that help?” you stayed in his arms, trying to steady your breathing as you nodded. “Okay good, go for a shower, I’ll lie some clothes out on the bed and get the soup ready for you.” You didn’t speak, you just got on your tip toes and pressed a kiss to his soft lips.

***

The shower helped more than you cared to admit. The hot water beating down on your skin seemed to strip away layers of your day and you felt yourself begin to breathe easier as your chest felt the most open it had all day. You hadn’t realised how restricted your chest had been until now, you didn’t notice how tight your jaw had become and how tense your neck had been. You let out a shuddering breath as you turned off the water and stepped out and wrapped your soft towels around your body.

Your bedroom was tidier than you left it. Your work clothes were hung in your wardrobe, a clean linen candle was lit and your childhood teddy sat up in the centre of the bed, your reading glasses placed on his head and an open book in his hands. You genuinely smiled for what felt like the first time all night. Fox had laid out your pyjama bottoms and one of his old basketball shirts on your bed for you to change into.

The scattered fairy lights illuminated your living room with a warm glow. The smell of tomato soup and Fox’s aftershave lingered in the air as you took the bowl from the side and joined your boyfriend on the sofa. He’d gotten changed into some loose shorts and a t shirt from Old Navy that had been stretched beyond all recognition. His glasses were steamy from the soup he held in one hand as he used the other to pat the spot next to him on the sofa. He smiled at you as you sat down, he looked relieved and clearly noticed how much better you felt.

You both ate your soup in silence as you watched Golden Girls, when you finished you laid your head on his chest as he absentmindedly traced shapes on your back. “Thank y-“ you started as you lifted your head to face him, he kissed you quick before you could finish your sentence. “You don’t need to thank me, we’re a team you know that? Seeing you smile is worth it”.