#if you can confirm please tell me because

[hivemuthur]

i haven’t seen this before but a viktor x doctor!reader where his pains are extra bad one day but he’s come to a standstill to his discoveries so he’s extra irritated already. and so reader tries to help him and he just snaps. can be full on angst or angst w/ happy ending if you please. idk much about the topic of chronic pains so hopefully this request wasn’t ignorant, tweak it if you want! love ur writings!!

Hi Anon! Here's your fic!

It Never Entered My Mind

viktorxgn!doctor!reader general audiences, angst with a vague resolution

author’s note: Okay, so this wasn't easy to write because I'm on the both sides of this coin, as a person with chronic pains and someone with medical degree. So, when I'm in pain I want people to pat me on the back and make me a cup of tea, and when someone announces they are in pain I'm this annoying dude that asks WELL DID YOU DRINK WATER TODAY? :O Title from Miles Davis, cheers!

word count: 1,3K

—

The first thing you hear is the door slamming shut and then a long groan as Viktor kicks off his shoes and drops his keys in a bowl. His movements are careful, deliberate—like with each one, he calculates how to hide the fact that something is wrong. But you see it anyway. The stiffness in his shoulders, the slight hitch in his step. The way he lingers just a little too long by the door, gripping the frame before finally stepping out of the hallway.

“Hey,” you greet him, eyeing his posture from under your glasses. “You’re late.”

“Hm,” is all he offers in response before strolling toward the kitchen. No teasing remark. No tired but affectionate jab about you keeping track of his schedule. Just that vague, dismissive sound as he moves past you, his cane tapping against the floor in uneven intervals.

Undoubtedly, it’s going to be another one of those afternoons where he sighs and talks mostly to himself while telling you not to worry about it. So you brace yourself and follow him.

“Have you eaten?”

“Not hungry,” he mumbles while searching through the tea cabinet. You frown. His coat is wrinkled, his hair more dishevelled than usual. And up close, you notice the tension in his face—the tight set of his jaw, the way his fingers curl into his palm even as he reaches for a cup.

Pain. It’s always there in some form, but tonight it clings to him heavier than usual.

You step forward, your hand already reaching out for his shoulder. “Viktor—”

“I am fine.”

The words come too quickly. A pre-emptive strike. Which only confirms that he isn’t and makes your frown deepen. You exhale and go for the obvious first.

“Do you want something for the pain?”

“No.”

He doesn’t even look at you. You can see his defences rising and feel yourself becoming annoyed with his martyrdom.

“Viktor.”

“I said no.”

He sets the cup down harder than necessary and sighs, defeated, as if you have just betrayed him somehow. As if it’s not the physical pain that he is looking to ease.

You cross your arms, studying him for a moment before shifting tactics. “Alright. Then tell me what happened.”

“It was just—” He waves a hand, as if dismissing an invisible nuisance. “Nothing of importance.”

“That’s not an answer,” you press, and all air leaves you. Why do you press in the first place? If he wants to sulk alone, you should let him.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. His patience is thinning, but so is yours.

“Viktor,” you try again, willing yourself to be softer this time. “Just talk to me.”

He hesitates, then finally, “I am stuck.”

You blink but say nothing, making space for him to speak. Your features soften at the sight of him cracking—just a bit.

“With Hextech. With my research.” His fingers tap against the counter, restless, agitated. “It is like hitting a wall, again and again. Every theory, every equation—I run in circles, and it is infuriating.” His voice edges with frustration, exhaustion—something raw beneath it all. “And on top of that, my leg—” He cuts himself off, lips pressing into a thin line.

When he doesn’t continue, you take a step forward and place your hand on his shoulder. “You need to take better care of yourself, Viktor.”

His jaw immediately tenses. “Not this again.”

“You don’t take breaks, you barely eat when you get like this, and it only makes everything worse—”

“Enough,” he growls, shaking your hand off.

But you don’t stop—meaning well but making it worse. “You push yourself too hard. You know stress makes the pain worse. If you just listened to me—”

“I am not your patient,” he hisses through his teeth. It isn’t loud, but it’s sharp enough to cut through your little lecture.

You stare at him, startled, words stuck in your throat. Viktor exhales sharply through his nose, gripping the edge of the counter as he fights for composure. When he speaks again, his voice is lower but no kinder—disappointed, for that matter.

“I do not need a lecture. I do not need to be told how to manage my own body, my own limits. I live in them every day.” His knuckles whiten before he delivers the final blow. “I need my partner. Not my doctor.”

And that does it. Because he is right. You’ve slipped into doctor mode without even thinking. Instead of just listening, instead of just being there, you’ve tried to fix it—fix him—like he was just another case to manage. Or an inconvenience.

And the worst part? You can see it in his face, in the way his shoulders have drawn inward like a man bracing for impact—this isn’t the first time.

You swallow hard, and with the lump in your throat go all the possible words you could say to him. I am sorry sounds like not enough. That wasn’t my intention sounds accusatory. I just want you to feel better feels too dismissive.

“I’m sorry.” You pick the lesser evil and reach for him again. “I’m here for you. Tell me what you need.” You say it quietly, moving closer, and it hurts you disproportionately that he keeps moving away.

“Viktor.” You plead, taking advantage of his slower coordination and sliding your hands around his waist. He raises his arms as if he’s trying to shake you off, but you persist.

“I do not need to be scolded like a child, that’s for sure,” he mumbles grumpily but lowers his arms. Still not ideal, as now you are wrapped around his waist while he stands stiffly, arms hanging limply by his sides. But he does finally look at you. “I just need you to listen, that’s all. To tell me it’s going to be all right.” Just tell me that you love me despite all of this.

You never meant to make him feel like that—like a problem to solve rather than the man you love. But how else are you supposed to react? When he is in pain, when he is hurting, barely keeping himself upright?

You exhale into his chest, trying to find your footing, trying to push back the instinct to argue—to tell him you know what’s best for him. Because that’s not what he needs.

“I’m sorry,” you say again. “I wasn’t trying to—” You shake your head. “I just don’t want to see you suffer when I know there are things that can help.”

Viktor rubs a hand over his face, still avoiding your touch as much as possible. “And I appreciate that. But you have to understand—I have lived with this pain for years. There is no solution. No cure. No treatment that will make it all go away.” His gaze lowers to meet yours. “Sometimes, I just need comfort.”

Something in your chest aches at the admission. “I’m sorry for not seeing you,” you whisper, placing your hand on his cheek. You see something shift in his expression. “No more lectures. I promise.”

Viktor huffs out something like a laugh, tired and wry. “That is a first.” But his hands do finally move, settling on your hips, making you sigh in relief.

You press your ear to his chest and close your eyes. His heart beats unevenly.

“Can I at least take care of you?” you plead quietly, your palms flattening against his back.

His eyes close for a beat when he sighs. And then he hums softly.

“Yes,” he admits. “You can do that.”

[maplegyu]

Went into this with no expectations! I just saw the tropes and summary and was like ooohhh i love all of these! I ended up rly loving the story and enjoying my read!!!

Your fingers tightened around the glass. Without thinking, you poured yourself another shot—your third, or was it the fourth? You weren’t keeping track anymore.

Mingyu let out a small chuckle, and that was it—you tipped your head back and downed the drink in one go.

Your chest tightened. Mingyu was your closest friend. Your partner for everything. The one you laughed with, teased, leaned on. Seeing her in that space, acting like she belonged, made your skin crawl. You probably were just overreacting- and yet, you just kept drinking.

Loved loved loved how this was written!!! I could really feel how reader was clinging onto the alcohol like a lifeline! The more it felt like Mingyu would be slipping through her fingers the harder she tried to be grounded by something else!

God, you were so hopelessly in love with him.

I GET U READER I WOULD BE TOO He's such a gentleman and he's sooo in tune with her feelings WHO WOULDNT FALL IN LOVE W KIM MINGYU

Of course, it wasn’t a big deal to him. But to you? It was everything. Every single thing.

GOD I CAN ONLY IMAGINE HOW MUCH THIS HURTS its like ur breaking ur own heart bc the feeling is like!! WHAT RIGHT DO I HAVE TO FEEL THIS WAY???!! i get u reader i rly get uuuu BUT UR FEELINGS ARE REAL AND VALID 😭 the hoping and yearning wow wow wow

I loved the imagery of the writing so much!!! Especially the scene outside the restaurant!!! Felt so immersed in the story and in very few scenes was already familiar with how close reader and Mingyu are and their feelings for each other.

BUT THE MORNING AFTER SCENE OH MY GOD???!?! CHEEKY MINGYU AAAAHHHHHHHHH

ON GOD!!! I AM NOT OVER THE IMAGE OF JUST WOKEN UP MINGYU, RASPY VOICE, REACHING OUT FOR READER... SMIRKING!!!!!! who wouldnt want to wake up next to this man for the rest of their lives?!

"Oh, this is fun," - im sorry. I WANT HIM SO BAD. Mingyu being a tease and being cheeky... I LOVE THIS KIND OF MINGYU GENUINELY LIKE SOME OF MY FAVORITE MINGYU TO READ!!!!!

YES HE DID BECAUSE PERHAPS!!!! HE IS IN LOVE WITH U ALSO DEAR READER?! 💘

“I know you can,” he said with that same, effortless ease, his tall, towering frame moving toward you without hesitation. “But let me.” His voice was softer this time, the teasing gone. 

MY KNEES TURNED TO JELLY FR!!!! when he is chivalrous and a gentleman but also hot as fuck 🤩

Mingyu stood at the stove, moving effortlessly like he belonged there, he changed his white shirt. His black t-shirt now clinging just enough to make you notice. The sleeves stretched over his biceps, broad and defined, flexing slightly with each movement.

IMAGINING THIS MINGYU

AND I DONT BLAME READER FOR HAVING A HARD TIME W HER FEELINGS FOR HIM

THE WAY THIS WHOLE SCENE EXCITED ME BECAUSE IT CONFIRMS THAT MINGYU DOES ACTUALLY FEEL FEELINGS FOR READER TOO!!!! ITS NOT ONE-SIDED AAAAHHHHH ✨️

Yeah. He was so screwed. 

#MAPLEGYU SCREAMS!!!!!!!!! this is everything. officially down bad. on his way to becoming a certified loverboy!!!!!!

The whole back and forth about stealing and wearing Mingyu's clothes...... THE OBVIOUS FLIRTING PLEASE I WAS RLY EATING IT UP!!!! dont u two realize ur so into each other aaahhhhhh! And then tbh at this point i thought the story (or part 1) would be over but there was more!!!!

Mingyu was still there and reader was wearing his clothes. Excuse me a whole day of domesticity with your favorite person????

The way user taesjpq painted the picture of how their night was going sent me to space actually because ITS THE LITTLE THINGS!!!! together ordinary things feel extraordinary 😭 and im sure thats what reader felt w gyu!!!! And please they never stopped flirting! Him telling her he looks good in his clothes!!?? MY BABY GIRL LET YOUR MIND GO THERE!!!! THINK ABT GYU BEING PART OF UR DAILY LIFE!!!! BELIEVE HE LIKES U BACK COS HE DOES!!!!!

He watches you with an intensity that makes the room feel smaller, more intimate. His eyes flicker to your lips, and that’s when it happens—the hesitation. Heswallows hard, fighting the urge to close the distance entirely. He’s trying—really trying—to resist, to keep this from crossing a line neither of you can come back from. But it’s impossible when you’re looking at him like that, when your body is so close, when the scent of you wrapped in his clothes makes his head spin. 

THIS MADE ME INSANE I LEGIT WASNT BREATHING

SO IMAGINE MY EXCITEMENT WHEN HE TRIED TO GO IN FOR A KISS!!!!!!! The build-up??!?! The uncertaintainty but also wanting it so bad??!?! CROSS IT CROSS THE LINE!!!! God im rooting for them i am suchhhh a sucker for bff's to lovers!!!!!!!

Thank you for writing this i really reaaally enjoyed it!!! I cant wait for the next part!!!! 💖

Jealousy part. I

genre — suggestive fluff, best friends to lovers, smut (maybe in part II) ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ pairing — female!reader x best friend!Mingyu summary — You, Hoshi, Wonwoo, and Mingyu—inseparable. Their apartment feels like your second home. But one of them makes your heart race in ways you wish it wouldn’t. He treats you like you’re special—attentive, caring, almost like a boyfriend. But he’s not your boyfriend. He’s your best friend. He treats you this way—this is just how Mingyu is, right? word count — 4,3k (part l)

Warnings and notes under the line.

WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, jealousy/insecurity, unrequited/complicated feelings, emotional distress, avoidance/coping mechanisms, mild possessiveness (towards him), possible hangover, waking up next to someone, suggestive elements/mild sexual tension, light kiss [let me know if I forgot something]

notes: san (ateez) cameo (you will better understand in part II) Hoshi, Wonwoo cameo. This is my first published ff ever, I hope you like it. I‘m actually very nervous about it, so feel free to give your opinion. I just wrote this, when I felt down bad for Mingyu again (he‘s so boyfriend istg). The question is, when i am not exactly down bad for Mingyu? He‘s the standard.

"Any plans for the weekend?"  

San held the office door open for you, his gentle smile as familiar as ever.  

You sighed quietly, relieved that the exhausting workweek was finally over. It had been chaos—half the staff out sick, leaving you drowning in double the workload.  

San had been your lifesaver, stepping in every time you thought you might break under the pressure.  

"Actually, I'm meeting my friends at a restaurant," you replied, noticing the faint flicker of something wistful in his eyes.  

"Why am I not surprised?" he teased, his grin widening as you stepped through the door.  

San had a way of always asking about your plans, like he was hoping, just once, your answer might include him. But it never did. Just: „My friends, my friends, my friends.“ 

It wasn’t a lie, though. You practically lived at their apartment. Gaming nights with Wonwoo, gym sessions with Mingyu, and endless meals with Hoshi—that was your rhythm, your second home.  

"Thanks for the coffee, San. Next time, it’s on me," you said, flashing him a grateful smile.  

"Anytime," he replied, his gaze lingering for just a moment longer before you parted ways.

 

You arrived flustered, breathless from rushing. Of course, they were already here. 

As you pushed open the door, the warm buzz of conversation and clinking plates enveloped you.  

Your eyes scanned the restaurant, locking on them almost immediately: your boys—and a girl. A girl? 

She was sitting beside Mingyu, close enough that their arms nearly brushed. Her laugh carried across the table, light and unrestrained, and something about it made your stomach twist. Who was she?  

"Finally!" Hoshi greeted you as you approached, his voice brimming with playful exasperation. "We thought you’d ditched us."  

You forced a smile, settling into the usual chaos of their teasing welcome. 

"This is Hana," Wonwoo explained casually when he caught the question in your eyes.  

"And? don’t you think she looks just like me?" Hoshi added, grinning as he gestured dramatically toward her.  

You studied her more closely, and the resemblance hit you. It was uncanny—her smile, her energy. She could’ve been his twin. 

"I’ve been crashing at their place for a few days," Hana said, extending her hand toward you. "Hoshi insisted."  

Your polite smile barely reached your eyes. Why hadn’t anyone told you?  

"Nice to meet you," you said, shaking her hand and glancing around. There wasn’t an empty chair for you.  

Mingyu noticed immediately. Without hesitation, he stood, grabbing one from a nearby table and setting it beside him.  

"Thanks, Gyu," you murmured, your voice softer than you intended.  

He nodded and gave you a gentle smile. 

Oh, how you’d missed him. His warmth, his silly jokes—the way his laughter could dissolve the stress of your week. You’d been looking forward to this, to catching up with him. But now, it seemed difficult.  

As the group settled into conversation, you tried to focus, tried to join in. But your attention kept drifting—to Hana, to how close she sat to Mingyu, to the way she leaned into him when she laughed. Her fingers grazed his arm casually, like she belonged there.  

"So, Hana, how do you like the city so far?" Wonwoo asked, drawing her attention.  

"It’s great," she said brightly. "Hoshi’s been showing me around—it’s been so much fun."  

Her hand lingered on Mingyu’s shoulder as she spoke, and your stomach knotted uncomfortably.  

Just then, the waiter arrived, placing drinks on the table. Four sojus. Your eyebrows lifted in surprise—they’d ordered before you arrived. That wasn’t how things worked. You always waited. It was a small tradition, but it mattered. Or, at least, it used to.  

"One soju for me too, please," you said quickly, catching the waiter before he walked away.  

But the unease didn’t leave. Hana’s touchiness continued—her laugh too loud, her attention on Mingyu too focused. He didn’t seem to mind, even smiled at her a few times. Yet, every so often, his eyes flicked to you, as if checking for something. 

You didn’t know why, but every time Hana’s hand brushed against his arm, you reached for your bottle. Every time she giggled a little too sweetly, your glass met your lips. The warm burn sliding down your throat was easier to deal with than the twist in your chest. 

"You should see these two at the gym," Hoshi chimed in suddenly, pointing between you and Mingyu. "They’re like workout aliens or something." 

The group laughed, and you managed a small smile, but your heart wasn’t in it. 

Hana giggled, leaning closer to Mingyu. "Maybe you can show me some moves sometime," she said, her tone playful. 

Your fingers tightened around the glass. Without thinking, you poured yourself another shot—your third, or was it the fourth? You weren’t keeping track anymore.  

Mingyu let out a small chuckle, and that was it—you tipped your head back and downed the drink in one go. 

Your chest tightened. Mingyu was your closest friend. Your partner for everything. The one you laughed with, teased, leaned on. Seeing her in that space, acting like she belonged, made your skin crawl. You probably were just overreacting- and yet, you just kept drinking. 

“I need to go to the bathroom,” you lie, the words tumbling out too quickly, barely convincing even to yourself. 

You needed space—air that wasn’t thick with your confusion, your frustration. If you stayed another second, your face would betray you, exposing the childish jealousy simmering just beneath the surface.  

The cool evening air hit you like a lifeline as you stepped outside, goosebumps forming on your arms from the crisp breeze. 

You closed your eyes briefly, letting it kiss your flushed cheeks, but it did little to soothe the ache in your chest. The dull, relentless throb of longing refused to fade.  

“This isn’t the bathroom.”  

The familiar voice sent a jolt through you, every nerve in your body suddenly on high alert. You didn’t have to turn to know who it was.  

You glanced back anyway, already masking your shock with a strained smile. Of course, it’s him. It’s always him.  

“I don’t know what you mean,” you said, forcing a lightness you didn’t feel. “This looks like a bathroom to me.”  

He chuckled, that low, warm laugh that always did things to your chest, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. And despite yourself, you smiled too, because how could you not? 

God, you were so hopelessly in love with him.  

Without a word, he steps closer, draping your jacket over your shoulders. “You’re probably freezing,” he says, his voice gentle, but with a tenderness that makes your stomach tighten.  

His hands brush lightly against your skin as he adjusts the jacket, and it sends a shiver through you—not from the cold, but from the barely-there touch. 

You look up, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes meet his. His gaze softens, a flicker of concern crossing his face.  

The silence that followed stretched taut between you, thick and heavy with unspoken words. Neither of you seemed willing to break it. The faint hum of traffic and the muffled buzz of laughter from the bar filled the empty space.  

You shifted uncomfortably, your fingers toying with the hem of your dress. Don’t say it. Don’t bring her up. Just let it go. But the question clawed its way out of you anyway.  

“I didn’t know Hana was staying at your place,” you blurted, the words sharper than you intended, laced with something raw and exposed.  

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair, his exasperation evident. “Yeah, I didn’t know either. Trust me.”  

You raise an eyebrow, still unsure. “Hoshi didn’t mention it?” 

“He forgot,” Mingyu mutters, shaking his head. What a Hoshi thing to happen, you thought.  

“I walked into my room, and she was already asleep in my bed. I didn’t have the heart to wake her, so I took the couch for the week.”  

Your stomach twisted, the weight of his explanation sitting heavy. Of course, he wouldn’t complain. He’s Mingyu—always generous, always selfless. Always giving more of himself than he should.  

“Oh,” you managed, your voice too light, too fake. “It’s just funny to think… if I showed up at your place, I’d find her instead of you.” You tried to laugh, but the sound was hollow, even to your ears.  

He shrugged, casual and unaffected. “It wasn’t a big deal for me. I worked overtime all week, so I wasn’t home much anyway.”  

Of course, it wasn’t a big deal to him. But to you? It was everything. Every single thing.  

You felt the sting of tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away quickly. Not here. Not now.  

The night had been shallow and hollow, a void you couldn’t seem to escape. All you’d wanted was a quiet evening with your friends, especially Mingyu. Just sitting beside him, leaning against his shoulder—feeling the solid warmth of him—would’ve been enough.  

But instead, you’d spent the evening watching Hana, her laughter, her touches, her presence invading spaces you’d always considered yours. Even if you don't have the right to do so. 

The ache in your chest sharpened, spreading through you like wildfire. You couldn’t stay here any longer.  

“I’m gonna head home,” you said, your voice flat, eyes fixed on the ground. “I think I need some rest after this week.”  

You felt his gaze land on you, heavy and searching, and for a moment, you wavered under its weight.  

“I’ll take you home,” he said softly, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.  

“No, it’s okay,” you replied quickly, trying to steady your tone. “I have my car.”  

“I know,” he says, stepping closer, his presence almost overwhelming. His eyes scan your face, tracing every inch of you, as if reading you in ways that make your heart race. “But you shouldn’t drive. You drank too much.” 

“I’m fine,” you muttered, frustration bubbling up. “I’m not drunk.” 

 And then, he speaks again, voice softer, more tender. 

“Your cheeks,” he murmurs, his thumb gently brushing against your flushed skin. “They’re red. That happens when you drink too much.” 

You freeze, his touch lingering. Your heart pounds in your chest, and his proximity feels like a punch to your gut. He looks even more handsome than usual—his messy hair falling over his forehead, the soft fabric of his shirt still loose and unbuttoned just enough to make your breath catch. The way he stands there, effortlessly composed, but so close that you can almost taste the air between you—his scent wrapping around you like a warm, familiar blanket. 

God, you feel weak in front of him. 

“I can’t let you drive like this,” he adds softly. 

You want to protest, but the words catch in your throat. He cares. He always does. 

“Unless…” he tilts his head slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’ve got other plans?”  

A sharp, throbbing pain pulsed through your head as you reached for your phone, your limbs feeling heavy under the weight of sleep. 

The sunlight filtering through the curtains was way too bright, making you wince as you blindly swiped to answer the call without checking the caller ID. 

“Hello…?” Your voice was hoarse, thick with exhaustion. 

“Mingyu, where are you?! I’ve been trying to reach both of you for hours!” 

Your brows furrowed, confusion washing over you like a cold wave. Mingyu? 

You pulled the phone away from your ear to check the name on the screen. Hoshi Hyung. 

Your headache made it hard to process, but one thing was clear—you would never save him like that. 

Why the hell was he even calling you about Mingyu? 

Just as the pieces of the puzzle refused to click into place, you felt it—a presence beside you. 

With a slow, sinking feeling, you turned your head to the right. 

And there he was. 

Mingyu. 

All 187 centimeters of him, sleeping peacefully under your blanket like he belonged there. His hair was tousled, his breathing deep and even, his broad chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. 

Your eyes widened, your grip on the phone tightening. You hung up immedietly.  

Fuck. 

Before you could spiral too much, Mingyu let out a deep sigh, his arm stretching out lazily—almost like he was reaching for you. His eyes, still hazy with sleep, fluttered open but instantly softening the moment they land on you,— The way you were staring at him, as if he'd just appeared out of nowhere —his lips curled into a knowing smirk. 

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice deep and rough with sleep. 

“It’s 2 p.m., Mingyu.” 

He blinked slowly before lazily glancing around the room. “Shit, really?” His voice was raspy, thick. He let out a slow breath before sinking deeper into the pillows. “I slept so fucking good.” A lazy smile tugged at his lips as he let his eyes fall shut again. 

You watched him. His dark hair was a complete mess, strands sticking out in every direction, and yet, somehow, it only made him look softer. His skin looked warm and tan against the white sheets. His lips—full, slightly swollen from sleep—parted just the tiniest bit, and for a moment, you had to fight the urge to reach out, to trace them with your fingertips, just to see if they were as soft as they looked. 

You swallowed hard. "I... uh—what happened last night?" 

Mingyu let out a soft chuckle, rolling onto his side to face you properly. “You really don’t remember?” 

Your silence was answer enough. 

“Oh, this is fun,” he mused, resting his cheek against his palm. “You were very affectionate. Like, I knew you liked me, but I didn’t expect you to cling to me like that.” 

Your face burned instantly. “Shut up.” 

He grinned wider. “You wouldn’t let go. Kept saying I couldn’t leave, that I should sleep next to you.” His voice dropped into something teasing. “Should I start staying over more often?” 

The heat in your cheeks deepened, and without thinking, you grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at him. He laughed, catching it effortlessly before it could hit his face. 

“Ohhh, so violent first thing in the morning,” he teased. “Where’s all that love from last night, huh?” 

You wanted to escape the awkwardness, so you stepped away from the bed, but as you did, your gaze betrayed you—flicking toward Mingyu. His white shirt hung loosely on his frame, almost completely unbuttoned, exposing a hint of his chest and the silver chain resting just above it. The sight made your breath catch for a moment, your heart skipping. 

Mingyu caught your glance. His eyes met yours for a heartbeat, but then they dropped—slowly, unwillingly, lingering on your legs just a moment too long. 

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling the fabric of your dress inching up, revealing more of your legs than you'd intended. The air between you both seemed to thicken, heavy with something unspoken. 

In an awkward flurry, Mingyu began buttoning his shirt, his movements too quick, too self-conscious, like he was suddenly aware of every inch of space between you. 

You cleared your throat, trying to fill the silence, and nervously stammered, “I—I’m making breakfast.” 

Mingyu immediately sat up, “I’ll do it.” 

You turned to glare at him, a bit sharper than you intended. “I can make it on my own.” 

“I know you can,” he said with that same, effortless ease, his tall, towering frame moving toward you without hesitation. “But let me.” His voice was softer this time, the teasing gone. 

His eyes flickered over you briefly—the exhaustion, the headache written all over your face, the way your clothes were still crumpled from last night. 

“You should take a shower,” he added, voice gentle. “It’ll help with the headache.” 

You blinked at him, and looked down on you after.  

“Yeah..probably.” 

You hesitated for a second before heading towards the bathroom, still feeling like you were stuck in some weird dream. 

The moment you stepped in front of the mirror, you almost flinch. 

Your makeup was smudged, your hair an absolute mess, strands sticking to your forehead. Your dress from last night was wrinkled and slightly loose on one side. 

You looked horrible. Greasy. Disgusting. 

Mingyu slept next to this? 

You suddenly wanted to cry. 

Taking a deep breath, you quickly peeled off your clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the weird feelings in your chest. 

By the time you were done, you felt human again. 

There was no way you were putting that dress back on, so you grabbed your bathrobe, tying it tightly around your waist before stepping out. 

Your hair was still damp, strands clinging to your skin as you walked barefoot toward the kitchen, following the smell of food. 

Mingyu stood at the stove, moving effortlessly like he belonged there, he changed his white shirt. His black t-shirt now clinging just enough to make you notice. The sleeves stretched over his biceps, broad and defined, flexing slightly with each movement.  

And then he turned around. 

For a moment, it was like time froze. 

Mingyu’s breath hitched the second his eyes landed on you. 

The damp strands of hair framing your face, the way your robe sat snugly around you, revealing the delicate curve of your collarbone—he was so unprepared for this. 

His fingers twitched around the wooden spoon, and for a split second, he forgot what he was even doing. His grip almost faltered. 

He was staring. 

Hard. 

You raised an eyebrow. “You good?” 

Mingyu swallowed, snapping out of it. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, I’m—uh, food’s almost done.” 

He forced a smile, turning back to the stove way too quickly—like he needed a second to compose himself. 

You didn’t question it, shrugging as you took a seat at the table. 

Mingyu, on the other hand, inhaled deeply, gripping the spoon like it was the only thing keeping him from completely losing his mind. 

Yeah. He was so screwed. 

“So.” Mingyu cleared his throat, a little too forcefully. “How’s your headache?” 

You barely looked up, scrolling through the endless messages from Hoshi and Wonwoo. “Hm? Oh-It still hurts. But I’m sure I’ll feel better after eating something."

A beat of silence. 

Too long. Too heavy. 

You, sitting there like that—bare-faced, hair still damp, wrapped up in your robe—he had seen you like this before. And yet, right now, it felt… different. His fingers flexed against the edge of the kitchen counter. 

He didn’t want to think about why. 

“How’s work been lately?” he asked, voice casual—too casual. “You looked exhausted yesterday. And, well… the number of drinks you had kind of spoke for itself.” 

You let out a dry laugh, stretching your legs beneath the table. “Yeah, work… Work has been insane. Feels like half the office is out sick, and I’m the lucky one picking up the slack.” 

Mingyu frowned as he turned off the stove, moving with practiced ease. “That’s bullshit.” A pause. “No wonder you were exhausted.” 

That wasn’t the reason you drank last night, but he didn’t need to know that.  

You shrugged, watching him. The way he knew where everything was. The way he moved through your kitchen like he belonged there. Because he did. 

Mingyu set a plate in front of you before settling into the chair across from you. He picked up his fork but didn’t eat right away, just watching you for a beat. 

“You really need a break,” he muttered, mostly to himself. Then, his eyes flickered to yours, and something shifted in his expression. A smirk tugged at his lips. “Or maybe just… new clothes.” 

You blinked. “What?” 

He gestured vaguely toward you. “I mean, I knew you had a couple of my things, but—” He gave you a pointed look. “At this point, half of your closet is mine. I could practically  move in here.” 

You almost choked on your food. 

That little shit. 

Mingyu leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “You know, I always wondered where my stuff kept disappearing to.” He tilted his head, pretending to think. “For a while, I actually believed I had a hole in my closet.” 

You swallowed your bite. “Weird. Sounds like a you problem.” 

He scoffed. “Oh, really?” 

You nodded, keeping your face blank. “Mhm. No clue what you’re talking about.” 

His gaze flickered over you, his smirk deepening. “So, you’re telling me my hoodies just magically disappeared? Along with my t-shirts? And my beanie? And—” 

“Okay, okay,” you cut in, groaning. “Maybe your clothes are just… way too comfortable. Not my fault they’re basically begging to be stolen.” 

“Begging,” he repeated, like he was tasting the word. 

“Yes.” You met his eyes, feigning innocence. “I don’t see the issue.” 

Mingyu let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.” 

You smirked, tilting your head. “And yet, you still let me steal your stuff.” 

He exhaled through his nose, picking at his food. “I don’t let you. You just take it.” 

“Semantics.”  

Mingyu rolled his eyes, but there was something in his expression—something warm, something familiar. 

For a moment, it almost felt normal again. Like the weird tension from before had settled into something softer. Something easier. 

But then his eyes lingered on you a second too long. 

And suddenly, it was back. 

That unspoken thing between you. 

Neither of you acknowledged it. 

You just kept eating. 

And Mingyu? 

Mingyu was so, so screwed. 

Your phone started ringing. Hoshi was calling. 

We were screwed. 

By the time evening settled in, you had changed into something comfortable—his clothes, to be exact. He was still here, lingering in your space, and for a few fleeting hours, everything felt right. As if this was how it was always meant to be. As if this was your everyday. But deep down, a small voice whispered, warning you not to get used to it. 

After dinner,  Mingyu is still here. 

You’re in the kitchen, washing dishes side by side like it’s nothing, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His hand brushes against yours when he reaches for a plate, and it’s almost too quick to register. But you don’t pull away. Neither does he. 

He leans against the counter, arms crossed loosely, watching you as you load the dishes into the dishwasher. His voice breaks the silence, low and casual, but there’s an edge to it, something like hesitation. 

“Do you still have a headache?” 

Before you can speak, he’s close. His presence fills the space between you. His left hand gently presses against your forehead.. His right hand moves to your neck, fingers brushing lightly over your skin.  

You barely notice it at first, but when you shift slightly, you feel it—your back pressing against the counter. Mingyu is so close, standing in front of you, subtly caging you in You can barely breathe. You don’t know what’s worse: the fact that he’s so close, or the fact that you want him closer.  

Your voice falters when you answer. "I’m fine now. It’s... better." You watch as Mingyu’s face softens in an instant at your words. 

Neither of you moves, standing close, too close.  

Mingyu’s lips quirk into a grin, but there’s a hint of something more in his voice. “My clothes look good on you. I should let you steal them more often.” 

You laugh, but it’s breathless. You stretch up, reaching for his face, your fingers brushing his skin. You squint your eyes, making a playful face. “I’d do it anyway. Don’t need your permission.” 

Mingyu chuckles, but his gaze shifts, sharpening just enough for you to notice. He steps closer. The warmth radiating off his body, the faint brush of his leg against yours, the way his chest is so close that if you just leaned in the smallest bit, you'd be pressed against him. It’s intoxicating. You don’t even realize you’ve stopped breathing for a second until you force yourself to inhale, only to take in the faint scent of him—clean, familiar, utterly Mingyu. 

He watches you with an intensity that makes the room feel smaller, more intimate. His eyes flicker to your lips, and that’s when it happens—the hesitation. Heswallows hard, fighting the urge to close the distance entirely. He’s trying—really trying—to resist, to keep this from crossing a line neither of you can come back from. But it’s impossible when you’re looking at him like that, when your body is so close, when the scent of you wrapped in his clothes makes his head spin. 

And then, he inches closer, almost without thinking, and his lips brush against yours—just the lightest touch, so soft that it could almost be a breath. Your body tenses, and for a second, everything stills.  

But fuck, it’s enough to send heat coursing through his veins. 

His lips are soft, teasing, brushing lightly against yours. The kiss is slow, barely there, but enough to leave you gasping for more. 

You inhale sharply, your breath mixing with his. You don’t move away. If anything, you shift closer, your body reacting before your mind can catch up. 

His lips linger, hovering, teasing. Testing. 

His self-control is hanging by a thread. 

He tells himself to stop. You were loosing yourself in it. You- 

- Ding Dong 

The sound of the doorbell rings, slicing through the tension. You both freeze. The world shifts back into focus. The heat, the closeness, everything evaporates in an instant. 

You step back, your breath coming in uneven gasps. Mingyu looks away, running a hand through his hair, trying to regain his composure. 

[rocketbirdie]

thought dump about the mh wilds beta below the cut. I am playing in japanese with english subtitles on PS5; I play solo; I am, to nobody's surprise, maining the lance. Thought and opinions are in no particular order and kind of not fully coherent:

Settings stuff:

Even the largest HUD and text sizes are too small. Not everybody has a huge honkin screen. That being said, the accessibility settings that DO exist, I am very happy with. I was pleasantly surprised to see an option for dark background behind captions, which goes to show just how goddamn low the bar is LMAO

Slightly related: Sunbreak spoiled me rotten by letting me have total control over which HUD elements are on the screen at all.

PLEASE for the love of all that is good in this world, PLEASE LET US GET RID OF THE RADIAL MENU in the full game. I am the #1 radial menu hater of all time and I do NOT want it hijacking my camera movement.

Thank you capcom for letting me use O=confirm in a world where playstation stubbornly adheres to its pretentious little X button <3

General gameplay stuff:

Where are the ridiculous hairstyles. These people all look too Normal. TEETH OPTIONS????

NO MORE GENDER LOCKED BULL SHITT YEEEEHAAAAW

The story and characters are boring as dirt which is par for the course for MH, but man is it a teensy bit embarrassing how hard they're trying to push it.

THE WORLD FEELS SO ALIVE!! I love seeing packs of both small AND large monsters living in their environments. Everything is so detailed and the map is immense, but not so huge that it's completely overwhelming.

Giving the hunter and palicos voice lines is an affront to gog.

Slinger. eeeugh. It's fine I guess, I just would rather not have it at all. I am a cultured hunter who prefers to fling hot dung with my bare hands

Oh Sweet Lord They're Making Me Pick Dialogue Options In A Monster Hunter Game

WHYYYYY with the always online thing? what is the obsession with this from triple-a devs???? "Online single player" should not be a thing, let alone the last option on the list. What happened to just single player. NO I DO NOT WANT TO USE AN SOS FLARE. Hello can anyone hear me

They did confirm that there will be a pause button in the full game. Right? God I hope so

HOOO BOY I hope they do some major adjustments to the Seikret movement in the full release. Even with the discrete analog stick movement setting on, it's so uncooperative at times. HATE how hard the game tries to make automatic movement happen. I want manual control at all times, and auto-running is not the convenience they think it is. Frustrating enough that I found myself avoiding riding the Seikret on some hunts.

I understand wanting to have a seamless open world experience but man... the lack of any strong distinction between hub and quest, and the fact that you don't just automatically return to the hub after the hunt, is really screwing with my head. It feels wrong and not in a "just give it some time you'll get used to it" kind of way.

LANCE:

Lance feels pretty good in this game!! The shield is very reliable even without any relevant armor skills. I love the finishers they added to the end of the classic 3-poke combos. Gives it just the right amount of extra zest without going overboard.

i won't lie though. i miss sunbreak lance's stupid overpowered shield hop -> leaping thrust combo. even if it's probably for the best that it's gone :(

Counterattacking feels off?? Like it's hard to tell when an attack just connected with my shield, there isn't a strong enough punch to it. Is this the "floatiness" that people were complaining about in the last beta test? Because I totally get it.

Also I have never had any trouble in any prior MH game with cancelling out of the dash attack. Why is it suddenly SO difficult to stop dashing. Petty whiny add-on: let me do the shield dash instead pleeeease pretty please

Combat in general feels kind of weird... I think it's because of the emphasis on realism? I'm perfectly fine with sluggishness in my monhun weapons, but this just feels bogged down. Thought I was going crazy until I tried the hunting horn (another main of mine from GU and Sunbreak) and sheathe->normal running was significantly faster than self-improvement's running speed, which is.... yikes............

side note: gypceros is just as obnoxious as he has always been! A+

[bengiyo]

Ben’s Big BL Blurb 5: Let’s Talk About Sex

I was mostly planning to check in again after the current Japanese shows ended, but after three out of four sex scenes left me wanting this week, I want to write down my ideas. I maintain that bed scenes, like action scenes, need to tell us more about the characters. Many sex scenes serve as a release of tension or confirmation of existing feelings. As usual, MAME seems to understand this, and others should probably take notes. 

Call Me By No Name is Doing Nothing For Me (5/8)

I have just about given up on this show. I don’t get Megumi’s whole deal, why she’s so in love with Kohata, or Kohata’s reticence. I was really hoping that an intimate scene would open up some space for vulnerability and truth with them to give us some answers about why these two weirdos are drawn to each other, but that’s not what we got. I was hoping that when we saw these two go at it we’d learn how much Megumi has felt for women before, or how she responded to Kohata’s experience. Instead, I’m left feeling cold by the whole affair, and generally baffled by the conflicting themes around going somewhere she did cutesy girl nights before, and ordering the cute food. This one is a chop.

Impression of Youth is Wasting My Time (5/9)

I have my own squicks as a former teacher with stories where a teacher messes around with their student. However, I don’t see the point of doing a teacher-student story if we’re not going to explore any of the lines being crossed here. We also didn’t get a good arc about the student helping the teacher properly reconnect with a feeling, or discover something, that helped him get back to his art. We simply had him start painting on the beach again, the kid confessed, and then they fucked with awkward kissing. I was a bit let down by the brother’s fast encouragement of the whole thing. It felt like they were reaching for the same energy we had in Call Me By Your Name (2017) with Oliver and Elio, but it’s missing the component where Oliver knew what he was doing the whole time for me. The overall alignment feels off, and I’m getting so little emotion from this show as a result. On top of all that, they showed us the kid’s boxers before implying he was nude in the shower! Ridiculous! 

When It Rains It Pours is Being Shy About Sex in a Show About Cheating (5/7)

This is the biggest offender of the week for me. This show is all about how the leads cannot have sex from the people they love, and find someone they can commiserate with in each other. When the dam finally breaks and they both need the release in each other, I was so dismayed that the show tried to gloss over as much of the sex as possible. It’s so fucking annoying for me when the shows about sex get precious about it and won’t show it. I was thankful that they tried to capture all the emotions happening around the weekend they spent together, but I think we lost a lot in not having Hagiwara blow Sei, because you just know that man has a people pleasing streak that would require him to give pleasure back. The lack of sex also means that there is no gap time between the infidelity and the discovery. We don’t give enough time for the shift in their relationship to breathe before the crisis (@respectthepetty). I’ve lamented before about Japanese shows only showing toxic or breakup sex, and so it’s damned annoying that they’re doing that in the cheating show because they probably want these guys to be together by the end. I was really hoping Mood Indigo would have some company finally (especially after Love in the Air Koi), but I clearly need to stay patient. Cannot overstate how lame it is for the show about two guys cheating because their partners won���t fuck them being shy about the sex effectively sides with the partners who won’t fuck them. Finally, I am not over them getting the insertion angle wrong while making points about it!!

Your Sky Could Have Been A Good Follow-Up on 2gether

I’ve been sitting on this one for a bit because I don’t know what I want to say about this one. I was really into it in the beginning, but it felt like this show didn’t really know what it wanted to do after resolving the issues with Oh. I personally liked the dad being confronted by his wife and father about the way his homophobia was hurting his son, but I didn’t really enjoy it as a Very Special Episode. I would have also liked to see Teerak’s newfound assertiveness in this period beyond is refusal to cave. I think this show also deeply underutilized its own supporting characters, especially the side couples. Still, I thought Thomas was probably the most beautiful newest BL boy we’ve gotten, and I liked the way he and Kong worked together. I also really enjoyed Teerak being allowed to want sex, ask for it, and take charge of it. That’s so important for a cute character. Letting us know that Teerak has also become protective of the private moments he has with Fah, and is growing into his desire for Fah really is a great way to finish a show.

Final Verdict: 7, Recommended With Reservations. I find it hard to give this a stronger recommendation. I just think the show ends up being overall inessential from how much of it ends up being fluff that doesn’t connect much to each other. The biggest things I liked were Fah and Teerak, especially in the early episodes, and I liked the family dynamics. Still, I feel like this show didn’t know what to do without Tine’s internalized homophobia, and what to do with Fah’s ex that was mentioned. There’s just too much hanging off this to recommend it as a strong drama. Everyone is very pretty, and the performances are earnest. It’s a show that means well, even if it’s a bit indulgent. 

The Boy Next World Understands that Phu Has a Dick (5/10)

MAME, as usual, understands the assignment. There’s no way that their first encounter is going to be Cir showing up to stick is dick in Phu’s ass. He’s been obsessed with this boy for years in a way that prioritizes Phu’s wellbeing. It was absolutely correct to payoff that Cir keeps making Phu hard by having Cir take care of him, let us see that Phu enjoyed it. Like @babyangelsky I think it’s important that we let go of the notion that cute characters cannot want and enjoy sex. We got so much from this. We know that Cir likes to give pleasure, and that he’s not going to ask for it from Phu. We also know that Phu cares about Cir, too, because he asked about his time in the bathroom (Cir clearly jerked off and rinsed his mouth, y’all). What’s so excellent about putting a sex scene at this point is it means we’ll see their sex change after Phu learns that Cir has been stalking him for years. MAME is consistently the best storyteller at using the kisses and sex to help inform the arc of the relationship. Most importantly, she gets what the angles are supposed to be.

Ossan’s Love Thailand Is…Fine (5/12)

I’m not really into this one much right now, despite what I think is a pretty solid performance from Krit Shahkrit. I understand the choice to go back to making Kongdech a widower, but I don’t think giving him a daughter who initially opposed the romance added much to this for me. I’m hoping activating Thor’s character next week will add some energy to this for me, because I’m feeling a bit flat with it at this point. I’m glad they’re letting Earth and Mix continue to play adult characters, but it doesn’t feel like they knew what they wanted to do with office romance dynamics here.

Gelboys is a Welcome Return from Boss Kuno (1/7)

Started this today and I am seated. I really love how much it feels like we get to actually be inside of Bangkok. I love that we opened with an ad for the Bangkok rail system as a mechanism for freedom. I love how filming on iphones has enhanced the naturalistic feeling of the production. I also love how we completed the major arc of the het angst of Make It Right in the first like five minutes. Incredible stuff. I’m so excited to see the mess Fou4Mod is going to make of everything, and I’m excited to see Chian dickmatize that boy. Curious to see how much this feels like a bubble show. Shout out to Boss for showing us a naked teen at the start of this show to scare off the pearl clutchers.

RED BLUE is EVERYTHING (6/8)

This is not BL, but it’s got enough BL boys rolling on the floor and sweating on top of each other that I’m saying here loudly that I LOVE IT. Kimura Keito is fantastic in this, and I loved his fight with Okura Takato in episode 6. I almost didn’t recognize my boy from his role as Amane in If It’s With You with the change in his hair. I did not know I needed a wrestling show with BL boys…who am I kidding? We’ve been asking for this every year. This is hitting all the notes I want from a sports shonen show. It’s fantastic.

Please Use the Sex Well in Romance

I think there’s a real place for clean romance in the BL genre. Some of our favorites don’t involve sex being a major component of their romance narrative, but that often requires significantly more drama and better storytelling and plots. What I cannot abide is when I find myself bargaining about how a show that wants to talk about sex every episode seemingly doesn’t want to deal with sex. Romances about sex that don’t use the sex well in their stories are as bad as comedies with terrible jokes, or action flicks with no suspense and satisfying fight sequences.

Other than that, I dropped I'll Turn Back This Time. It’s just too stupid and incoherent for me to put up with it’s nonsense. Seeya next time. 

[notmyprey]

Unfortunately, I have to make another post about this, as the situation is not getting better:

Tldr:

There are multiple people (or one person with many burner accounts) spamming asks.

The asks are often along the lines of "@notmyprey×@the-potted-plant" or "im sorry potted plant hates [notmyprey], the potted plant is such a horrible person for that". If you see these accounts, please dont interact. Block them, and if they start sending you any of these asks, report them for harrassment, please.

List of current accounts who have sent the "nmp×plant" asks:

Boldlyoriginalkid

Perfectzombiegalaxy (this account has sent this ask at least to 2 people, once to me and once to a mutual)

Verymakerfestival

List of current accounts who have sent the "potted plant is such a horrible person" asks:

Lolboy9

Ironjellyfishcat

Longer explanation with screenshots under cut:

I'd like to preface this by saying that I understand that not everyone likes me, and that's ok. This issue did not start because I can not handle others hating me. I have made it very clear before that people can dislike me, and for that, they do not deserve any hate.

How it started

This issue started a little while back in December 2024. I can not 100% remember what came first, but the first thing I remember happening (and that I can confirm happened) was that someone sent @the-potted-plant an ask regarding her opinion on me.

This post has since been deleted, and I do not have a screenshot that I took.

That said, I did find a screenshot from one of the spam asks that was sent to me at that time. This is the screenshot from said ask:

Again, this is not my screenshot, but when I first got it, I compaired it to potted plants original post, and as far as I could tell it was not edited.

It is made very clear that although the potted plant does not like me, she is not hostile towrds me or the person who asks.

She simply does not like a lot of my posts, and she is right in the fact she should not follow me if she doesn't want to see my posts.

Despite @the-potted-plant having a relatively respectful reaction to this question, the situation started to escalate.

The Asks that have been sent

Note: As it seems, I am very much the odd one out in these screenshots since I use tumbr on light mode. So unless I specify, the lightmode screenshots mine.

First type of ask:

I got two asks trying to villainize potted plant and spark up a fight, which were these here:

Second type of ask:

Both the potted plant and I started getting these messages as well:

Along with these, other people not even a part of this started receiving similar asks (note that the potted plants username at the time of this one was Christmas-tree):

More recently, the asks have started up again. These are some of the more recent ones:

Some of these seem very similar, and at the moment, there is a possibility that this is just one person with multiple burner accounts. That said, there is no proof of this, only speculation.

What to do about this

Honestly, at this moment, I just wanted to make the community aware of this since this does seem to be affecting many people.

The best things you can do is either block these people or report them if they try to send you any of these asks.

Another thing you can do to help is reblog or privately message me any screenshots that are like the ones above so I can continue to add to the list of accounts and asks that have been sent.

[incorrectpnatquotes]

Starch Radness 8 Prediction Bracket Contest

Here’s the bracket for Starch Radness 8! This year’s theme is "Who most deserves to say f*ck?"

We’re continuing our prediction bracket contest where you can win merch from the Paranatural store or items from Zack Morrison’s itch.io. Additionally...

ONE EIGHTFOLD PLUSHIE

is up for grabs as a prize this year!

In the event of ties, the entrant who submitted their bracket first will be given the first chance to choose the Eightfold plushie!!

Because we are continuing to use Tumblr polls this year and you can see the live results after voting, entrants may NOT post screenshots or percentages of the results before the poll’s voting has ended. Encouraging people to vote one way or another or saying that X choice is winning or losing is permitted, but we feel giving exact numbers may sway the voting too much. If there is an issue, we will talk to you about it first to attempt to resolve it, but we retain the right to disqualify you if a resolution cannot be reached.

Here’s how it works:

If you want to participate, you may either:

fill out a template bracket, as shown above and submit the photos to this blog

ask us for a link to a Google Sheet version of the bracket, fill that out, and let us know when you're done so we can screenshot your bracket

If you would like to request a Google Sheet bracket to fill out, send an ask to this blog, and I will reach out to you via my main @blairdiggory with a link to your personal bracket.

***You must tell me when you're done filling out the bracket on Google Sheets so that I can take screenshots. Brackets filled out on Google Sheets are not entered until the screenshots have been taken.***

**Additionally, please be aware that I am unable to be on Tumblr most of the work day, but I will do my best to provide links every couple of hours. If you choose to fill out a Google Sheets bracket instead of editing the above photos, you may get your bracket sent to you later than you would like, which could delay your entry into the contest. Requests for Google Sheets brackets will be answered in the order they were received.**

These brackets must be turned submitted to Incorrect Pnat Quotes before 9 PM Eastern Time on Thursday, February 27th. You will receive a message or ask from @blairdiggory​ to confirm that we received your bracket.

Prizes

The person with the most points at the end of Starch Radness 8 wins one item of their choice from the Paranatural merch store, the Eightfold plushie, or the entire library from Zack’s itch.io! Second place gets one item from Zack’s itch.io.

If first place passes on the Eightfold plushie, the second place winner will be given the chance to choose the plushie as their prize. If the Eightfold plushie isn’t chosen, it will be rolled over to Starch Radness 10 (and future years if still not chosen).

Again, in the event of ties, the entrant who submitted their bracket first will be given the first chance to choose the Eightfold plushie!

How to fill out a template bracket and how scoring works are explained under the cut. Have fun playing! :D

First, I’m going to fill out the bracket with who I think will win each round (which is NOT necessarily who *I* think most deserves to say f*ck*). For example, I think Max is going to beat out Ms. Baxter. So on the line stemming from their bracket, I write "Max" like this:

I do this for all pairs in the first round. Then, we get to the pairs in the second round. For my prediction bracket, I believe the first two characters facing off will be Max and Jean Garcia. Of those two, I believe Max will win, so I write that his name the line stemming from that pair’s bracket.

Continue until all lines are filled out!

Points and Scoring:

After every round, you will tally how many characters that you correctly guessed would win the bracket. Round 1 is 1 point per character guessed correctly, round 2 is 2 points per character guessed correctly, etc. As an example, say Max wins his bracket, but Jean Garcia loses his bracket. I win 1 point for that section because Max won but Jean Garcia lost (and Penny Spender won). If Max wins against Penny Spender, I get 2 points for that section. Then, I add the points up at the end of the game, so for this section, so far I have 3 points.

The person with the most points at the end of Starch Radness 8 wins an item of their choice from the Paranatural merch store, the Eightfold plushie, or the entire library from Zack’s itch.io, and second place gets one item from Zack’s itch.io.

Still have questions? Feel free to send us an ask, and we can clarify. :)

[lostintransist]

Hell's Spawn | Back Again?

Part 1 | AO3

Stretching side to side all your focus is on the pull on your neck muscles. When the bell dings, signaling entry you ignore the trained urge to open your eyes. Blended scents of cigarettes and deadly choices told you who had come back for a visit. If anyone had the ability to exist in a changeless state it would be these men. They looked nearly the same as when you had seen them last, imposing and wearing nearly the same damn outfits.

You didn’t glare when you opened your eyes, but it was a near thing. Layers kept you safe from the demons your mother seeded your mind with from crawling from your pool of self-hate. Easier to ignore the glances at your chest when you wore a band tee that begged to be looked at. The one who hadn’t spoken to you last time stepped forward. The sense you got is that you had been a topic of discussion, and this would be another test.

‘Welcome in, what can I get you?”

The one who stepped forward, fuck you really needed to figure out what to call each of them to keep them clear in your head. Maybe you would text your boss. She had met them before or at least one of her boyfriends would be able to help you match masks to names.

“Four large hot coffees, please.” He tacked on the last word as if only remembering polite interactions required it.

“Milk and sugar for the table again?” You ask as you tap away at the screen.

He had an accent from east of here. A long way east. How far can one go east before you start calling it west? You snort lightly as you think of the answer, it only becomes west if you run into a colonizer.

“Also reserved the conference room again?” you finish up the transaction on your end and flip the screen to them to confirm if they want to pay a tip.

The tallest one, with blue eyes and a loud voice, tapped his card without discussion. Once the payment cleared you pulled the key from a small drawer below the counter.

“You remember where it is?”

“Ja, we know where it is.” Cocky. That is what you refer to this one as. The tallest one that acted like his stature could win him the world.

The shortest one, whose startling blue eyes haunted your nightmares some nights, took the key from you. He took care not to let even the stitching of his glove touch your hand. Turning from the counter you ignore their gazes scorching across your shoulders. When you had the four cups filled and the bowl and carafe ready you set them all in a line on the counter. Large hands with oval, well-trimmed nails grab the coffees two per hand and then he catches your gaze.

“Sorry about them. They are all uncouth and require a sharp bite to make them back off. Though,” he looked down at you, his brown eyes so dark you nearly couldn’t tell them from his pupils with his irises, “They might need more of a muzzle pointed their direction to truly get the message.”

You weren’t what anyone would call pretty. With your gaze too sharp and your disdain for stupidity leaking from every pore, you were eye-catching.

It was the fucking tits. It had to be. Between the fat sacks that caused a constant ache in your back and your bitch face, because let’s be real it didn’t only come out when you were resting, men were always in your space. Your friends often said you needed to fix your face; sometimes it came in handy in running off fuckers that didn’t get a hint the first time.

Your hair could be the only thing called beautiful about you without the addition of fancy clothes or a hefty slathering of makeup.

“Good for everyone I have a partner then huh?” You arched a brow in his direction. Sugar and milk in hand you step from behind the counter.

“It wouldn’t stop them from trying. I’m Horangi.”

“Tell me their names? Let’s start tallest to shortest.”

“Tallest? König. Then me, followed by Nikto and finally Kreuger.”

You start up the stairs to the conference room.

“Got it, König is the cocky one, Nikto is the creepy one, Krueger can’t keep his hands to himself. What about you?” You glance at him over your shoulder as you top the stairs to the conference room.

“Me? My kink is I like women to be nice to me.” The seriousness on his face has you falling into laughter.

When the door to the conference room pops open, Krueger again with not a lick of skin visible, holds it open for you. Setting down the extras for the coffee you fight back the laughter, wiping away the tears collecting in the corner of your eyes. König sat next to Nikto, the large space between their chairs eaten up with their impressive, combined manspreading.

You pat Horangi on the shoulder, still chuckling.

“Good luck with that one man. Could never be me.”

Tension flooded the room, a crowd watching a wick burn down on dynamite while they stood inside the blast zone.

“Well, Horangi,” you pat his shoulder again before returning your hand to your side. “And everyone else I suppose,” you let disdain drip from your teeth as you speak, “reminder we are closing at one tonight instead of two. I’ll come and kick you out if you aren’t gone already at 12:45. If you need something, please hesitate.”

Leaving the room, you click the door shut behind you. Three sharp voices explode beyond the door. You can’t help but grin as you bounce down the stairs.

They kept coming back; three of them were met with glares that must fuel fantasies and Horangi with a smirk—no real schedule and never in the daylight. You start referring to them to your friends as “the vampires”. König and Krueger always tried to talk to you, getting rebuffed with stares or a sharp smile and a customer service stare. Nikto watches. Horangi makes you laugh and then gets yelled at when you leave them to their business. The interactions work until they change it up on you.

Hell Masterlist | Masterlist

@demothers-empty-blog

[ibviously]

Little Red Bracelet

Summary: Jason was bleeding when Kara arrived at Wayne Manor. He’d be dead to her as soon as she confirmed he was alive.

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence and injury.

Pairings: Jason Todd x Kara Zor-El, Dick Grayson x Kara Zor-El

Jason was bleeding when Kara arrived at Wayne Manor.

“Ms. Zor-El, what a pleasant surprise,” Alfred said, his white gloved hand still on the doorknob. The butler made no move to vacate Kara’s path.

“Alfred, please let me in,” Kara whispered, her words so soft they barely touched the silence that clung perpetually to the estate’s walls. She kept her voice level in order to mask the rage that bit at her insides. Kara shifted in the entryway. Right to left. Left to right.

“I am afraid I have been ordered to keep you out of the manor, Ms Kara.” The remorse that tinged Alfred’s voice was sincere. Still, the space behind Kara’s eyes became hot and her hands clenched in on themselves.

He promised. They made an agreement- had an understanding. Yet here she was, shaking at the doorstep of Bruce Wayne’s mansion because his son lacked any instinct for self preservation. Kara told herself that this was the last straw, that she would see him this one time and that would be it. Done. Out. Over.

Jason Todd would be dead to her as soon as she confirmed he was alive.

Kara swallowed, and met Alfred’s eyes with an apologetic frown. “I’m sorry Alfred, but I’m coming in.” She didn’t wait for his objection before she brushed him aside, as if dusting away a leaf that had fallen on her shoulder.

Wayne Manor was cold. The first time Kara had entered, cowering behind the form of her older cousin, she shivered, and not just from the impending sense of doom. All of the warm mahogany and leather scented candles in the world could not disguise the mansion for what it was; a cave. The Batman-Billionaire was not quick to welcome another Kryptonian, but with a little heroism on Kara’s part and vouching from Dick Grayson, Kara was a regular. Now, she strode in, sure-footed and furious.

“Jason!”, she shouted, scanning through the walls for some glimpse of him. Nothing. She turned to demand that Alfred tell her where he was, but he had vanished. Kara let out a frustrated huff and swallowed the fear rising in her throat. As soon as she wrangled the worry induced nausea, the guilt crept into her stomach.

She knew he was going after Joker, he had told her.

“I didn’t say he doesn’t need to be stopped, Jason. Im saying this isn’t the time to engage. And certainly not alone,” Kara sighed, picking up the sweatshirt Jason had peeled off of himself and plopped on the floor. His leather jacket had been scrubbed of blood an hour prior and was drying as they spoke. He was bent over a dresser (a birthday gift from Kara), scavenging for clean kevlar amour. A bowl of leftover pasta sat, untouched and cold, atop the furniture.

Jason hadn’t been eating much. The hunt for Joker had been on for weeks- it consumed Jason. He didn’t sleep, didn’t speak with anyone unless out of necessity. Kara tried to understand the desire - the need, to tear Joker down. But she had learned awhile ago that any mission fueled by rage was doomed.

Kara’s attempt at reasoning was met with silence. Her blood boiled.

“This is bullshit, Jay.” The profanity caught his attention- but only for a second. Jason glanced up at Kara, waiting for elaboration, and when he was met with a furrowed brow and pursed lips- he went back to foraging.

“I know what I’m doing,” He stated plainly, “he’s not gonna live through this- and Gotham will be better for it.”

What has Gotham done for you? Kara wanted to ask. All she heard from Jason were stories of shiners from police and scrounging in garbage cans while the rich ate caviar and fucked the same prostitutes that lived on his streets.

Maybe that was it. Maybe Jason felt some type of ownership over the city that had raised him. Maybe he needed to feel like all of the hunger and the pain and the death was worth it- because now he got to make a change. Now he got to contribute to the symphony of gunfire that had once been his lullaby.

“It’s all the same, Todd. Death is death, no matter which people are at which ends of the gun.” Kara’s pleas were whispers in the howling wind. He wouldn’t listen, she knew, but it didn’t stop her from saying, “Please don’t. Not tonight.” Kara considered getting on her knees and begging. She had seen numerous criminals, petty and professional alike, assume the position and look up at her. They fumbled their words. Some cried. Some even soiled themselves when her blue eyes glowed red down upon them. She thought about what she’d say: Please, please. Not tonight. Tonight can just be us. We can pull the blinds and put the TV on and you can kiss me as hard or as soft as you like. Just stay. It can be one of those nights where you pick a movie and I pretend to be learning something about ‘culture.’

Those nights had ended when Joker made his return to Gotham. Kara wanted to scream. She wanted Joker dead for what he did to Jason. She wanted to rip him up and bleed him dry. She wanted to grind him under her knuckles-paint him across the city streets. She wanted to melt him down to nothing and pour him into Gotham Harbor.

That was the kicker! It wouldn’t be a fight- not like it was for Jason. She could float down like an angel into whatever cess pool Joker currently occupied and break him until he was malleable and rotting.

That type of thinking was unproductive- damaging- she knew. But it was nice to submerge oneself in a tide of self destructive thought. In that way, Kara could understand why the need for vengeance had ravaged all that Jason was.

It wasn’t a difficulty concept to grasp. Kara held the same feelings towards Brainiac. Her dead planet was there when she closed her eyes every night. The screams of her parents echoed in between every moment of peace. When she looks at herself all she sees is the reflection of a crumbling Krypton, projected back in the whites of her eyes. But Krypton was gone- irrevocably and permanently gone. It did not roam her streets or make the news. She did not live with the constant reminder of its presence. There was peace to be found in that.

Things were different for the Red Hood.

Jason was dressed now- complete in leather and guns snug in their holsters. Kara almost smiled. She liked him like this. It had taken awhile to grow fond of; the brutality of his persona. Red Hood. The undead bringer of justice. Killer. Gunslinging Robin- back from the grave. Vengeance, always vengeance.

Eventually, with the growth of mutual trust, came the appearance of something much more rare. Something much more foreign to either of them.

Intimacy.

It lingered on their knuckles between brawls and stuck to their shoulders after helping one another stumble to safety. It hung in the air after every argument. Kara could taste it on her teeth after Jason’s tongue had been in her mouth. It wasn’t love; she knew that. She wasn’t even sure if it was romantic. All that Kara could be sure of was that her soul ached at the thought of Jason every suffering at the Joker’s hands again.

Jason rose from his hunched position by the dresser and turned to face Kara. His gaze was cold. Kara knew there was no way to keep him with her.

“Will you hand me my bracelet?” he requested, peeking past her and nodding toward the beside table.

The bracelet was a gift, a peace offering after a particularly brutal argument. It was a small ring of red fabric from her cape- supplemented with the binding of a copy of Pride and Prejudice, for structural support. Roy had helped her make it.

Kara handed him the bracelet and hung her head in defeat.

“Make sure he stays dead.”

Jason’s hand was clad with an intravenous needle, a heart monitor, and his red bracelet. Kara’s breath caught, solid and hot in her chest when she entered the cave’s medical bay.

Kara took him in, her eyes scrounging for detail. Jason, Jason, Jason. Her heart slammed against her chest with such force she thought it might burst through her body and splat on the floor. She imagined it pulsating on the linoleum beneath her. Thump, thump, thump.

“Kara?”

Dick’s voice cut through her day-dream. Kara tore her gaze from the floor to see a grief ravaged Dick Grayson striding towards her. His face was pale and hollow, eyes sunken, and hair matted and greasy. Before she could take a step forward, Dick was embracing her; his body quivering around her as he clung and buried his face into her neck. Kara’s arms acted on instinct, pulling his body into her and cradling his head. Kara’s fingers tangled themselves into the curls at the base of his neck. She held onto Dick; gaze never wavering from the boy in the cot before her.

Jason was bleeding. Crimson stained the sheets around his torso, showing through the bandages that encircled his abdomen. He was pale, taking in slow, shallow respirations. His face was purple and bludgeoned- barely recognizable. Kara felt her legs wobble beneath her. If it weren’t for a certain Blue Bird in her arms, Kara would have fallen to the floor. She would have collapsed right next to her beating heart- laid her head down and let it pump the remainder of her blood into the open air.

“Kara, you can’t be in here.”

She hadn’t noticed Bruce was standing by the bedside until he spoke. Her gaze snapped to him.

“Is he okay?” she whispered. She heard her own voice as if from underwater.

“He is going to be fine. Now please, Kara, go upstairs. And take Dick with you…”

The rest of Bruce’s lecture was drown out by the lazy beats of Jason’s heart. Kara counted them- each thump more beautiful than the last. She loved Jason’s heartbeat. From the moment they met, she was attuned to its thick, off-kilter beats. Jason had told her, when she asked, that the Lazarus Pit had just made it ‘different.’

“How long has he been out?” Kara demanded.

Bruce scowled. “Three hours. I’m not going to ask again. Get out. I’ll tell you when he wakes up.”

Kara grinned- toothy and mean. Tears fell past her lip and into her open mouth. “Or what, Bruce? Are you gonna make me leave?” Clark had warned her against reminding Batman of what she was. He told her not to give him any more reasons to stock up on Kryptonite.

Dick groaned into her neck, straightening himself and cupping Kara’s face, forcing her gaze away from Jason. His eyes were bleary and hopeless. Two blue pools of misery. “They gotta cut him open, Kara,” Dick drawled. She smelt liquor on his breath.

Kara opened her mouth to protest- but Bruce was quick to explain.

“Joker planted an explosive behind his rib cage. We have to take it out. And you cannot be in this room when we do.”

Dick awoke to sunlight filtering through the curtains of the living room. He groaned, tightening his grasp around the girl pressed against his body. His head was pounding and the insidious tendrils of dread that had made their home in his chest had not wavered. The whole night felt on ocean away; distanced by gallons and gallons of thick water, suspended before him. He couldn’t keep the words from cutting their way back into his head. Not again. Flashes of Jason’s small, mauled body rotted his dreams.

Jason’s alive.

He repeated the affirmation over and over as he stared at the ceiling- again and again until it sounded like truth. Neither Alfred nor Bruce had emerged from the cave since Jason had arrived, bloody and thrashing, carried into the medical unit by Dick’s own hands. Jason’s blood was dried and flaking from underneath Dick’s fingernails as he traced slow circles across Kara’s cheek. It was a miracle she was still asleep. Dick, sloppy with intoxication, had played every card he had to get Kara to settle down on the couch.

“Kara, please, please- you can see him in the morning.”

“Stay with me or I’m grabbing the kryptonite.”

“You’re only going to distract Alfred.”

“We couldn’t help him, even if we were in there.”

After hours of pleading, and Kara clawing at the BatCave door, she finally collapsed into him- letting Dick scoop her into his arms. She sobbed into his chest until his t-shirt was soaked and all she had left to give were labored breaths and apologies.

“It’s my fault- he told me…”

“…shouldn’t have let him…”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Jason…Jason…Jason…”

Dick let her apologize. He let her drown in remorse until her throat was dry and sleep took her away from him.

Now, as Dick examined her face in the morning light- he wished he would’ve corrected her. He wished he would’ve told her about the life that she had breathed into Jason. He wished he would’ve told her that she was keeping him afloat. He wished he would’ve pressed his whiskey soaked lips to her ear and droned on and on about how much they both loved her, until they drifted into nothingness.

But he hadn’t, and now Kara’s face was puffy from crying and grey with guilt. Her lips were swollen and parted, taking in tiny sips of air with each inhale. Golden hair lapped at her shoulders and tickled Dick’s nose. He held his breath, pausing to engrave this image of her into his memory. Soft, relaxed, melting into him like his skin held the only warmth in the world. Dick pressed his lips to her forehead. She smelt sweet and earthy- like air after a storm.

Of course, this image of Kara could not be farther from the truth. He had seen her soaring through the sky and bending steel with her bare hands. He has seen her eyes glow red and melt their target down to nothing. Kara Zor-El had rolled with the filthiest of villains and came up victorious. What’s more-she wasn’t tainted by the encounters. With each brawl in the Gotham streets, Dick had to remind himself that he was not the same as the men and women he fought against. Not better- just different. Dick Grayson. Not Nightwing, Not Robin. He was a person, and he wouldn’t lose himself to the violence and the abuse and the terror that he submerged himself in every night.

Kara was above it all. She had bled and broken and dragged herself from the edge of defeat countless times. For every time she fell, she rose, wobbling on weak knees- chin high. She would recover from this. She would forgive Jason.

Kara stirred when Dick removed his lips, her blue-grey eyes fluttering open and fixing onto him immediately. She didn’t squint, didn’t fight back the sudden onslaught of light invading her cornea. Kryptonian eyes didn’t waste time adjusting in the morning.

“…Jason?”

Her question was answered with the creak of the staircase and Jason’s gargled cough as he hobbled into the living room. She tensed against Dick's body, her fists bawling up in the fabric of his T-shirt. Dick could feel the heat building behind her eyes. It warmed his cheeks. He almost sighed at the feeling.

By the time Kara dragged herself off the couch and away from Dick, Jason had made his way down the stairs and stood at the corner of the living room.

“Are you okay?” Kara’s voice shook. Her jaw clenched so tight she thought she might shatter her teeth and choke on them.

Jason stood in front of her, straining against gravity to keep himself upright. Kara almost came to his side to help him stay up. Almost. He was purple and green and pale all over. Kara knew that his grey shirt was hiding long lines of fresh stitches and scraped skin. Jason shifted on his feet and swallowed a wince.

Kara swallowed a sob.

“Good as new,” Jason chirped, ending the last syllable with the twist of a smirk on his scarred lips.

Dick was behind her as soon as Jason’s words came out, gingerly grazing her fist with his fingers. She knew he was attempting to calm her- or warn her. But it was too late for restraint. Dick strode over to Jason, slinging an arm around his back, bracing him. Kara felt phantom tremors in the hardwood under her feet.

Kara exhaled, blowing hot air out of her nose and refocusing her vision. She held out her hand, palm up, and said, “Give it to me.”

Jason’s eyebrows drew close in confusion.

“What?”, he questioned.

“Give me the bracelet. I want it back.” Each syllable that came off her tongue was cold and acidic.

Hurt registered on Jason’s face for more than a second. He was too tired to mask his emotions in sarcasm and an expertly placed glare. “Kara…”, - a plea from Dick. She didn’t budge.

Jason continued to stare at her, his exhaustion stricken expression never wavering. “Did Joker fuck up your ear drums too?”, she spat.

Jason recoiled at her words- as if she had slapped him.

“That’s enough,” Dick announced, positioning himself in between the two. “Kara, go home and you two can talk later.” His blue eyes were alight with anger. Dick was angry at her. Good. Clark was right. Bridges were bound to burn, especially ones that led to Waynes.

Kara choked on a laugh and pushed Dick aside.

“You lied to me. You’re a lair, Jason. You promised me that you were done with the self endangerment and the vendetta and the meaningless violence. I cannot spend every night wondering if I’m gonna see you alive the next day." Her voice broke on the end of the sentence, fizzling into a whisper as tears built up in her eyes. Kara looked at her shoes- desperate to keep herself from falling apart in Wayne Manor. "I don't like this anymore," she rasped at the ground, "and I won't feel like this again."

Jason’s expression had hardened as Kara spoke. He was just as stoic as he was during Bruce’s lectures or beating criminals into mush. It made Kara’s stomach curl. Just as she was about to launch another attack of insults, Jason pulled the bracelet off his wrist and handed it to Kara. Their gazes met, his green eyes steady on her. She fought the urge to break his nose. Kara hoped he didn’t catch the tears swelling in the ridges of her eyes. It took the rest of her self control to grab the bracelet, careful to avoid touching Jason’s skin, and wrap her shaking fingers around it.

She dropped her head. The sight of Jason was tearing down her resolve to leave. But she had too.

If the destruction of her planet had taught her anything, it was that it is wise to know when to leave. Best not to wait until things fall apart. She was good at feeling for the cracks. Good at feeling the tremors of instability beneath her feet and seeing them for what they were; warnings. The signs are always there. They were there before Krypton broke apart in space. They were there before Kara held Lena Luthor’s dead body in her arms. They were there when Kal-El turned his back on her and joined the Regime. And they were here now, in Jason’s silence and her shaking hands.

It was time to go.

“Good bye, Jason,” Kara stated, not trusting herself to take him in one last time. If she looked at him too long she might break and cry and beg him to stay in her arms until she was ready to let go.

Kara turned, stepping away from a bleeding Jason Todd, and let herself out of Wayne Manor.

[cantdealwiththisnow]

Part 1 - Appreciation post for all the TFP universe Autobot mugshot cameos (known and unknown) in RID2015 3x25 (even if the context is that they've been OUSTED against their will)

[edge-oftheworld]

I don’t really talk about it much on here because I’m extremely lucky to be able to understand exactly what’s going on in my body, but it’s scary to live for years as someone who Gets Things Done in a way your peers don’t really understand, be putting effort into so many things you care about, and then suddenly lose the ability to do not only that but also basic tasks overnight after a deadline, and bit by bit after many. it’s scary getting really irritable sometimes to the point of violence, just when you were meant to be celebrating the rewards from your hard work, the only impact of the work you did that you can see is that you overdrafted your ability to do anything. including have a basic conversation without getting grumpy or crying. and your body is going to make you pay it back with interest, you already know that, but you don’t know how to start filling yourself back up. you’ve only ever enjoyed being on the grind, hard at work on exciting things.

I don’t know how many of you have been through the kind of burnout that’s years of needing 12hrs of sleep a night but with terrible insomnia, waking up to what feels like a hangover for weeks on end with little relief then rinse and repeat without having a single drink, feeling too sick to eat and needing to exercise to emotionally regulate but being unable to, anxiety that doesn’t come from worry but you’ll pick that up too at some point, dissociating every time you try to do mentally taxing tasks that you’re PAID for so it takes an hour of grounding yourself just to get five minutes worth of productive concentration, falling asleep the minute you feel a little safe by being in the presence of loved ones. but I suspect I’m not the only one.

I’ve had songs for the energetic and angsty times leading up to this. for the exasperated times and the brain fog and the times where all my limited energy is tied up in feeling things. that I need to, need to acknowledge, but it’s overwhelming and I live in a haze for weeks as a result of. songs telling of the kind of youth I wish I had, even when I was sold something else. songs for the months spent as a teenager trying to be there for my friends, worrying for them, distracting me from worrying for myself, trying to cling on to positivity and hope amongst it when I had to choose to make a discipline of always seeing that. I’ve had songs for healing and when healing is harder than expected and songs that have the right level of musical complexity to capture the layers of everything that’s happening in my head, making it sound good, telling me it’s gonna be okay.

I don’t know how I could ever say thank you for this. but I do know that I see parts of myself in the people behind these songs, of course I do, and I worry for them as a result and ache for them because it’s hard enough to feel this way when no one knows me or feels the need to control me or mould me into what they think I should be. I’d do anything to keep them all healthy and happy and all of their loved ones too and I don’t think it’s strange as a fan to take that seriously. I hope we can understand the need to treat them gently, and to while not questioning their privacy and the fact that they’re never going to tell us everything they go through, listen to our intuition when we catch something we relate to and treat what they’ve shared with us or hinted at with the dignity we would if someone we love told us something vulnerable. be kind in our expectations and be intentional in the fan culture we create because it does make its way back to them.

and the same goes with all of you. we’re bonding over the same things. I know a lot of this fandom is in the stage where interpersonal relationships are hard. we don’t mean to be grumpy of frustrated but we are. and I’m sending love to all of you. we can get through this together. it’s what they’ve always longed for isn’t it?

[good-beanswrites]

Just wanted to plant an idea if you wanted a bit of fuel: Mahiru asking Yuno to come to her cell before everything goes down.

Edit: I forgot the ask didn't say it but this is part of Kyanako's incredible Order Of Attack AU!

Didn't mean for this to become a mini Mappi study but here we are ✨ Thank you for the request! I fully intended to write them hanging out, but it's more right before they hang out lol. Went a bit on-the-nose with foreshadowing, but isn't that the fun part? It has become Emotional Over Mahiru Hour...

I kept things vague, but TW for mentioning her boyfriend's state of potential self-harm

Mahiru tried not to act superstitious, she really did. As much as she loved the idea of little luck charms, or avoided easy signs of misfortune, it was easier to keep quiet about such ridiculous things.

Maybe catching a bride’s bouquet meant no guarantees; maybe there was no real harm in stepping underneath ladders, maybe a coin tossed into a fountain had no real magic to its wish. However, the one thing she knew for sure held power was a lucky presence. Being in the right place at the right time could alter everything. And today was the right time for something. There was this waiting in the air. The prison had been holding its breath. Mahiru knew it was time to release it all.

“You must be so lonely, why don’t you let big sis Mahiru keep you company?” She beamed at Amane.

She often recalled the good fortune that she and a certain young man had crossed paths on the university terrace. She used to laugh with him about the wonderful coincidence of bumping into each other outside of the bakery, then the convenience store. 

Though she’d never spoken about it to him, she was also grateful for many occasions where she walked in on him at the precise moment to talk him out of something reckless. She always told him that they’d do everything together. He didn’t need to be alone anymore. 

“I wish to be alone. I need peace of mind to think.” Amane turned away from the cell door.

It was a good thing, too. Mahiru’s smile wasn’t as convincing as she said, “o-oh. Of course.”

She made her way around the panopticon, hearing Fuuta pace his cell in anticipation. He must have felt it too, this holding of breath. 

Or perhaps not. He turned down her offer for a bit of company, including a few more colorful words than Amane had. Mahiru just apologized for bothering him and headed back to her cell. She wasn’t sure where Mikoto was at this hour, but she didn’t feel like smiling through a third rejection.

She shook her head back and forth. She wished the motion could rattle the voices inside, she wished she could shake them all away. With her arms secured in place she could no longer cover her ears. She used to hum to keep them at bay, but lately they’d been too loud to stifle. They just kept on talking.

Their words told her the two were right. Nobody needed her company. No – nobody wanted it. Being together hadn’t helped her boyfriend. In fact, being together had been the very thing that got him killed. No wonder Amane and Fuuta wanted to avoid her. 

So then, this was for the best. She would rather deal with the brief sting of refusal than stumble in one day to find them hurt… or worse. As much as she tried to avoid the superstition of it all, the voices reminded her that her very presence could mean life or death. 

“Mappi, are you alright?” Mahiru hadn’t realized a tear had slipped down her cheek until she hurried to swipe it away in front of Yuno. 

“Hah, I’m fine! Just fine.” It was impossible to fool her, Mahiru had learned, but that never stopped her from trying. 

At least she always spoke tactfully. “Rough morning?”

Mahiru shifted her arms in her uniform, making a small sound of agreement.

“Can I do anything to help? What if I stay with you for a bit? I can do your hair, and…”

The voices were right. Amane and Fuuta knew it, too. Presences did hold power, and Mahiru’s was cursed.

But she would sound foolish admitting such a fear to Yuno. She'd heard plenty from the voices about how stupid and airheaded she was, there was no use in getting the same lecture from someone as grounded as her.

Mahiru managed a weak protest, unable to explain her real reasoning. Yuno was insistent. She didn’t give much of a choice. Could she feel the strangeness of the prison, as well? 

At last, Mahiru allowed her shoulders to sag. Yuno was lucky. And kind. Having her nearby would do her good. Amane and Fuuta would be alright. Mahiru had tried spending more time with them after verdicts were announced. Now, she made a mental note to pull back. If her love couldn’t save anyone, at least she could spare them from her curse. They would be safe. 

“Yes. Please stay. The truth is... I don't want to be alone.”

[faaun]

oh my god ! haha . anyway a bit buzzed perhaps. anyway here's what happened on the date

[anxiously-avoiding]

Okay seriously need someone to explain this to me. I finally started Takin' over the Asylum and how the actual fuck did they have the budget for The Beatles, but Doctor Who, with their big fancy Disney budget, couldn't afford it. What the fuck. Did they just not charge as much in 1994? Was it really not in the budget or did RTD make that up because he thought I should have "I've got a dog" on loop in my head?

[kittyrosecatqueen]

Hello sorry for tagging. I am very sick, my asthma is at its maximum level, my nose freezes, I have no medicine or food. I am in bad shape financially, I am a black disabled, who uses multiple medications, I pay for my food and lodging

Unfortunately I do not have all the resources to keep me safe, that is why I need your help, whatever you can contribute to me will be of great help.

Sorry to hear about your struggles. If this is real, do you mind sending a donation link? If it's not too much trouble that is.

[beforethepoison]

i got something off my chest in the tags, if anyone has an advice for me please i would love to listen.

protect children even if they aren't yours

[squid--inc]

.....