#im largely neutral towards a lot

[dcviated]

mun things :: open

send a number for a view on various rpc topics

@pastballads sent: 10, 11, and 17?

10. anons

I keep anon enabled and did so for all my blogs, and none of them (fortunately?) ever received actual hate. At this point it's almost unnerving really... considering the awful things I've heard getting sent to my good friends (misguidedly ofc). Anyway. I always feel like ribbing anons a little bit when they come in, especially for ooc memes (like this one).

This is a hobby that hinges on social interactions, so shying away from them is a dangerous forecast for hopefuls interacting. Show a little more backbone and kick someone's door down!! It's what I do!!! My recent mutuals can attest that my way of breaking the ice is sending a gif of a cat going through doors over IM. I've found several. It works every time.

In the end I'm indifferent. Would prefer they go off anon, but won't punish them for doing so. Even if I did get hate I'd probably leave them open.

11. magic anons

This was something I never really experienced myself, even back when they were more commonplace in the 2010s. It's a fun idea but also necessitates a more active blog that does more dynamic interactions... traits which do not fit my space for better or worse. I think I actually did a kinda magic thing with Raguna back on his own blog?

Nothing too dramatic but just carrying on with a 'silly idea' for a day. That's the closest I can think of for my involvement with magic anons. It kinda morphed into dash commentary, now that I think about it? As the community moved away from 'ask blogs' and made it more 'roleplay'... well, as I experienced the community at least.

They're cool, just not a good fit for me. I'm more inclined towards writing a thread that's an AU!

17. fanon interpretations

Canon characters fit within a spectrum of qualities and traits. None of my canons fit on the edge of any blade for how they should be perceived, and I wouldn't expect anyone else to keep it perfect either. That said... there's making adjustments to characters (ex. I tone down Tharja's connection to Robin) and then there's playing them totally ooc, like making a stoic character a memelord or some such.

Disclaimer: People are allowed to do this but I'm not required to like it. And would prefer if writers have it noted their character is either AU or divergent, y'know? Explore the possibilities but don't simultaneously claim it's legal canon. By changing details about your character the onus then falls on you to help people get filled in.

...which is a problem all its own with how little people read bios and rules nowadays. Maybe this is all for naught. Alas!

Also- I'm not a fan of people blaspheming canon characters in the name of shipping them. Leave it at that. It's not a landmine even I want to touch in public.

[kitsuga]

Rainy Day Friends. {Sebastian x Reader/Farmer}

Description: 

A fic in which Sebastian notices there’s at least something to look forward to in Pelican Town. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── 

Tags: fluff, do frogs count as a warning tag?? is that needed?? who knows, reader is referred to as "Farmer"!, not beta'd, not edited, gender neutral reader, stardew valley/sdv x reader/farmer, sebastian x reader/farmer, stardew valley/sdv, sebastian

Word Count: 1,871

A/N: Written on: September 2, 2022 

To be fair im afraid of frogs but like, in a normal way. I am not terrified of them but god forbid if one TOUCHES me, you know? they can be so cute but. do not touch me LKJSDF

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── 

If there was one thing Sebastian appreciated about Pelican Town, it was the quiet pitter patter of the rain; once it started down, Sebastian could feel the weight of the world wash off his shoulders. Well, there was another reason this little town was alright—he looked down to find a small amphibian friend hop over his boot. He smiled softly to himself. 

Crouching down, he hugged his knees to his chest, watching closely as another small frog friend hopped along after the other. A third hopped up to him, sitting calmly and staring up at Sebastian without so much as a little thought behind its eyes. He chuckled under his breath and reached out, petting its head carefully with his index finger. Opening his palm, Sebastian stood back up straight once his new travel buddy hopped aboard; the both of them travelled slow, soaking up all the rain had to offer—no destination in mind, simply two storm-bound souls heading through the light fog of the unknown. Sebastian cringed to himself when he thought about it. A bit too edgy even for him. 

Making it down the mountain, he stood around the town’s center for a bit, just simply looking around. Where was he going to go now? The beach? Head back up the mountain? Both options made sure he enjoyed the weather longer, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling a bit of unwelcomed loneliness.  

“Where do you wanna go, little guy?” Sebastian brought the frog to his eye level, making sure the little creature knew he was addressing him. 

Well, he hoped it knew he was addressing him. He brought him back down level to his chest. He looked around again, holding his hand out towards where he was suggesting. 

“Wanna head to the beach?” He spun around and held him out again towards the path back home, “Or do you wanna head back home?” 

After an embarrassingly long pause as he was, after all, talking to a frog—the small amphibian jumped from his hand and down a third, unspoken choice pathway. Sebastian couldn’t stop the smile that broke out across his face, accompanied by a warm blush. He took a few large steps to catch up before snatching his friend back up, heading down the path.  

“A nice choice, I guess.” He put up a front, though his words were weak against his smile. “Wouldn’t have been my first choice. I’m not lying, don’t look at me like that.” 

The frog in his hand sat staring up at him, croaking softly as though it were speaking with him. Maybe Sebastian had been alone a bit too long, or maybe the rain was making him sick and he was delusional. Maybe it was both—he didn’t know. He shook his head and put his hand back down to his side, letting his friend continue hanging out the rest of the way. 

So, Sebastian had lied. There may have been at least one more, third reason why Pelican Town wasn’t so bad—but it was only a fairly recent reason, so it didn’t count. He also wouldn’t say it out loud, so it didn’t count. Things only count if you speak them to the world, right? The collar of his hoodie started to feel a bit too tight the more he thought about it; he cleared his throat. 

The farm was looking great—a much better sight than the overgrown, abandoned lot that it had been before. He was in awe of just how well it was doing, and how hard the farmer had been working day in and day out; he didn’t think he had what it took, if he were honest. His eyes scanned the lot—dozens and dozens of rows of vegetables, a few fruits, some flowers sprinkled here and there. The drenched scarecrows stood tall, protecting their respective crops with pride; the crows hiding from the rain in the nearby trees cawed distastefully at them. Small lanterns had a soft glow piercing the fog to line the walkways the farmer had made to navigate. In the short distance, he could hear the soft moo’s from inside a barn and soft clucks from another. Something about it was very… comforting. Everything was so organized yet so unique that it spoke to the farmer’s personality; his chest started to swell with pride—because he was friends with this new farmer, of course—no other reason. Or, well, it’s what he told himself. He shook off the goofy grin he had and replaced it with his usual disinterested scowl and knocked on the door. 

“Oh—yes? Who is it?” A voice called from behind the door. “Sorry, my hands are a little full to open the door.” 

“It’s… Sebastian,” he hesitated. “Do you need… help?” 

“Sebastian!” Sebastian’s heart skipped a small beat at the excitement in their voice. “You can go ahead and come in! Careful though, it’s a bit messy!” 

He opened the front door and stood in the doorway; they weren’t kidding when they said it was a mess—or that their hands were full. A few broken jars of jam splattered across the floor looking like a horror movie scene—the front of them including their arms were just as messy. If the sweet smell of strawberries hadn’t hit him immediately, Sebastian might have thought differently. 

“Are you alright?” He started to worry with the amount of glass surrounding them. “Are you sure you don’t need help?”  

“Oh no, I’m fine! Just an annoying mess to clean up. What brings you out this way?” 

“Oh…” Sebastian looked around for a moment, avoiding their gaze. 

Why was he here again? Following a frog’s advice? He couldn’t say that. Should he just tell them he was missing them? No, that was a little too straightforward at the moment. ‘I wanted to see you’—too strong. ‘I was bored’—it works, sounds kind of rude though. Through his thoughts, he felt the farmer’s stare linger on him a bit too long; a shiver made its way down his spine, but it wasn’t from the rain. The tips of his ears burned a bit. 

“I…” he thought quickly, covering his amphibian friend with his other hand and held it out. “I found something to show you!” 

“Is… it a frog?” They tilted their head with a slight frown. 

Sebastian read their body language—it was clear they weren’t the biggest fans of his favourite little creature, but they were certainly trying to be nice. Was there a slight fear in their eyes? They stared hard at his hands, it almost felt like they were burning a hole into them. He quickly hid his hands behind his back and stepped out of the doorway onto the front porch. 

“I no longer have something to show you.” 

“Ah!” They threw their hands out in front of them, concern and regret evident on all of their features. “I’m so sorry Seb! You can go ahead and show me!” 

“No no, it’s fine.” He took another step backwards. “Don’t worry about it. There isn’t anything to show.”  

“Seb! Please show me your frog!” 

They quickly navigated through the broken glass, which Sebastian watched with bated breath. They continued making their way towards him before he realized; his eyes widened and he just as quickly jumped from the steps of the porch, making his way towards the nearest bush. 

“It’s nothing! I don’t have one! It wasn’t important, anyway.” He called over his shoulder. “Don’t come over here.” 

“It is important!” The closeness of their voice startled him, though not as much as them jumping onto his back had done. “It’s important to you—you like them! Please show me!”  

Sebastian stood still for a moment, hunched over and holding his hands far out in front of him to keep the frog out of the farmer’s reach. He wasn’t sure what to do—his heartbeat was in his ears and he looked like a deer in the headlights at this point. It was, however, pretty cute to watch them from the corner of his eye, so determined to reach his hands this way rather than trying to get down and around him; he smiled up at them and opened his hands to reveal the small frog—not a care in the world, not a thought in its eyes. It stared up at them both. 

“Oh.” They wheezed. “It’s… certainly… a frog.”  

“Isn’t it kinda cute?” 

“It’s…. certainly… a frog,” they repeated.  

Sebastian laughed this time, their indifference now seeming like a cute quirk rather than something dismissive in his eyes. They slid off his back and he crouched down near the bush, placing his hand close enough to the ground to encourage his little friend to hop off. It disappeared into the shadows of the greenery, and Sebastian stared and smiled after it for a while before he heard the farmer speak behind him again. 

“Thanks for coming to show me your frog,” they started, a smile beaming up at him once he stood again. “I like learning about what interests you.”  

He wasn’t sure what to say to something as sweet as that, so Sebastian stared at them a moment, mumbling out a thanks as he switched between playing with the collar of his hoodie and scratching the back of his neck. It was silent for a beat—the only sound the pitter patter of rain once again, the distance moo’s and clucks of animals sheltering from the weather. 

“Sorry,” the farmer broke the silence, “I forgot about the jam. It’s all over the back of your hoodie now.”  

They sheepishly gestured to their clothes—cleaner, but certainly not clean—and laughed a bit embarrassed. They gestured back to their open front door. 

“I might have an extra one—want to borrow it? I could wash that one for you.” 

“It’s fine,” Sebastian shrugged. “It’ll wash off in the rain.” 

“Oh yeah, the rain’s one of your favourites too—right? You gonna keep roaming around in it?” 

“Until I clean off now, yeah.”  

“Hmm…” they hummed. 

Wordlessly, they ran back to close their front door and return to him.  

“I’ll join you! An easier way to clean this off? I’ll take it.” 

Sebastian bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing, but raised his eyebrow at them. 

“And your floor? What about that—” 

“It’s a problem for a different time. A different me.” They cut him off, holding a hand up as though they jokingly dismissed him. “What would you like to go do?” 

“Normally I just sit on the pier. Take in the atmosphere.”  

“Lead the way!” They grabbed his sleeve and tugged a bit, pulling him down the pathway.  

He sighed in disdain—though it were fake. His smile spoke differently for him, happy in their presence as they started to recount their day and mishap very dramatically. The two of them bumped into each other a few times on accident before they started to do it purposefully—playfully, flirty. After a short pause for breath, the farmer spoke out again. 

“Show me all the good frog hunting spots. I’ll bring you one sometime.” 

[kenphobia]

HEART STUTTER!

"you're the absolute most."

summary. wally headcanons with a gender-neutral who isn't good at talking, uses vague wording and confuses smiliar sounding words with each other. ( headcanons / rewritten / see end notes)

contents. fluff i think. possibly ooc too. barnaby teasing the heck out of wally. take the L, wallace, take it.

✦ Wally finds it oddly charming, for some inexplicable reason. He tries his best to understand you and somehow he knows what you're trying to say better than you could. He does let you explain for yourself, but once you turn to him with those pitiful eyes of yours, he couldn't help but finish your words for you.

✦ In some way, Wally understands how you feel. He is a charming little puppet but even so, he slurs his speech a lot which at times make him sound drunk and inaudible.

✦ Whenever you misuse and confuse words, Wally will use context clues to figure out what you're saying. To him, it's like a little puzzle game and he enjoys it very much. He does wonder how you can say typos out loud, concerning but he eats with his eyes so he can't complain.

✦ He'll always reassure you that your speech is fine and that you can take your time figuring what to say. You look better smiling than with your brows creased like that, so cheer up!

✦ Out of all of the neighbors, he understands you the most. You could refer to food as "Biting things" and he'll fetch some for you instantly, he makes a few mistakes at times and he apologizes deeply. Wally doesn't like making assumptions, especially if those assumptions makes you upset at yourself.

✦ Wally could pick up your vague wording the more he spends time with you. He wouldn't notice it until Barnaby mention it.

"And so, (Name) and I went to fetch the things from Poppy's place before coming to meet you all here." Wally vaguely gestured to the food laid on the picnic blanket underneath them, his eyes drifting you chatting and helping Julie fly her kite.

The larger puppet nodded his head, smiling almost teasingly. Wally quirked a brow at Barnaby's sudden weird attitude.

"Is there a problem, Barnaby?" Wally questioned.

"Oh no, it's nothing." Barnaby shrugged, taking his tobacco pipe from his mouth and into his large paw. He glanced over to you and Julie before turning back to Wally. "So, you and (Name), huh?"

"... Yes, we are an item, Barnaby. Is there something wrong?"

"Nope! It's just that you're so in love with them that you're already copying them." Barnaby chuckled. He took a breath in and blew out from his pipe.

"I'm—" Wally paused, his brows furrowed. "I don't think I follow what you mean, Barnaby. I do love them, in fact I am madly captivated by them, but I don't think I'd be so inclined to do the same things as they do."

"Oh yeah?" Wally raised a jesting brow. "Then, tell me what you were doing before the picnic." He gestured to the picnic set before the two of them.

"Well, that's easy!" Wally clapped his hands joyfully. "I woke up, finished some evenings, no, paintings! Yes, those things. Then, um, I met up with you all to talk about things and after cat— that! I went with (Name) to get the stuff from Poppy's and— Oh good lord."

Barnaby letted out a roaring of laughter and patted Wally's back. "You see what I mean now?"

Wally nodded silently, dumbfounded by how oblivious he was towards his speech. He was usually self-aware, watchful and cautious about the way he acts yet he managed you fumble over his words. Right in front of his best friend too.

"I guess they got your tongue tied?"

"Barnaby, kindly shut up for once."

author's note. i amr ushing, I am RUSHING!!!! this was requested by @ssvv-cc but i accidentally answered their ask with the wrong contents and i deleted it so um terribly sorry :')) i might upload the last one but for now, let me cry in shame

again, my requests are always open. do note that im not a welcome home writer but i do writer many other things <33 /nm

[changbinsboobs]

Hello! I really love your readings. Thank you for doing so many even when you seem to be really busy. I was wondering if you could do a reading on who in skz seems to be the most charitable? I’ve seen readings where Felix and Lee Know are both mentioned a lot, but I was wondering about the others too. Also, I’ve always wondered who would be the kind to help around the house? This will really fuel my delulu lol. Like I said earlier, I know you’re probably really busy and get a lot of requests, so please take your time ❤️ have a nice day

Hello:) thank you so much💗✨ after an almost month long break I'm back. I loved that question and been wanting to do it for a while so here it is

Im actually pleasantly surprised cuz the majority of the group is very charitable actually, we've heard a lot about lee know and felix but theres others to that do a lot for charity.

1. Hyunjin & Felix

- Felix's too charitable for his own good, i think he might have a tendency to help anyone and anything with all he has to the point where he might actually put himself in poverty or even dangerous situations. Seems like theres no boundaries at all, which is a lovely trait but he has to be careful not to be taken advantage off as i see a huge potential for that. (Death+QoW)

- As for Hyunjin he seems like the one that has the most ongoing charities. Like not a one time donation but continuously pouring money in in different causes. I'm also seeing him scrolling insta for example and seeing some of those videos "donate 1 dollar to afford this animals surgery" and his eyes filling with tears and him immediately donating 300. His heart is easily touched and he truly enjoys helping. (9oC)

2. Lee Know

- He is also very charitable but he has a niche i would say. Like he has 2-4 main causes he believes in strongly and wants to support and focuses his donations, care and engagement towards them with a long term mind set and actual purpose behind it. Like he has a goal in his mind and a certain charity supports that so he feeds into it and awaits a change in the future and his goal to be fulfilled. While hyunjin does it out of impulse and because he enjoys helping, Lee Know does it for ~the future~. (10oC +THP)

3. Changbin

- Also very charitable but i feel like he has a much narrower spectrum of what he donates to. But the sums donated are HUGE. And seem more like "one time donations" instead of continuous support in smaller sums like with the last two. Changbin is very generous but is not charity focused with his money like all of the previous guys, instead when there's something or someone that touches his heart and resonates deeply with him, he opens his heart (and his pocket) for it/them and gives A LOT until all is covered or until that person/cause is helped. Its like he helps "people" get back on their feet. And then moves on to his everyday stuff. So yeah some sort of personal & emotional connection is needed for him to express his generousity. (QoC)

4. Chan

- So until here i would classify the guys as the charitable ones and from here on i'd say the following ones are kind of mid-neutral. As for Chan i see him ocasionally donating here and there but i think its done partly because he just has to as a duty for someone who has lots of money. And i think thats also fine at the end of the day help is help when it arrives where it needs. But im not seeing the authentic need and desire to help like i do with the others. He just does it as a duty and of course feels nice when he sees his donation helping people/animals etc. but yeah, he's not so intense about it. (AoP)

5. Seungmin

- He does do charity frequently actually, but i see it not being so much as donating large sums to organizations but actually being part of organizations or getting hands on experience helping people. Of course he donates as well but i don't see him spending sums as large as hyunjin or changbin or even chan. More of his help vomes from his own self. I think this also brings him lots of joy and fulfillment. (PoS)

6. Han

- There's not much to explain here, he finds the idea of charity amazing and wants to help lots of charities, but there are so many he can't really choose/commit to one or a few specific ones. I see some procrastination there and analysis paralysis. I think he wants to donate long term but for now he's just doing one time donations here and there and researching ethical products and websites, artists etc, that he supports. So yeah he wants to, but lets himself get distracted a lot. (7oC)

7. I.N

- This is actually quite surprising for me but i would see he seems like the only one that doesn't engage in charity or at least doesn't enjoy it. I would say he either has some financial worries right now or he has A LOT on his plate and the last thing on his mind right now is charity. That could change tho, as you know energy is constantly fluctuating and changing, so he might just be in a phase of immense stress and overwhelm thus why he ranked last. Cuz judging by his horoscope, his personality, the overall energy I've been getting from him and things he has said himself - he's quite the humanitarian. So take his positioning with a grain of salt. (10oW)

[thrawns-babygirl]

would you be comfortable writing pegging for crosshair? if so, uh 😳 something femdom like in your collared fic

if not, feel free to ignore. have a wonderful day!

Hey so uh I'm really sorry that this took so long. I have had a lot going on irl atm and tried my hardest to get this out for you within a reasonable timeframe.

Crosshair calls reader sir in this and i consider that entirely gender neutral because like, the clones call Ahsoka sir in the show so im still considering this femdom but its still relatively gender neutral despite the fact that it's afab reader.

Rating: E (18+) Warnings: Pegging, sub!cross, pet names, cross calls reader 'sir' Word Count: 2000+

Masterlist

(I apologies in advance for the quality of this one I have never pegged anyone irl or written pegging before so like..... sorry lmao)

There was a single word in the entirety of Galactic Standard Basic for what Crosshair was being today.

A fucking menace.

He has been snarky, rude, mean, downright unbearable all day. He turned the scathing remarks up to eleven, he was being entirely insufferable. The rest of his squad had absolutely zero idea what came over him so when you turn around in medbay to see the entirety of Clone Force 99 standing there sans Crosshair you knew they were there with a single request.

Control your man.

You let out a sigh as Hunter explains he’s at the shooting range at the moment, blowing off some steam with direct orders not to return to the barracks unless he’s lost his maker forsaken attitude and to probably expect him in your quarters after you finish your shift.

While you and Crosshair had never exactly made an announcement or made anything official, the rest of the Batch weren’t oblivious to the fact the two of you had a relationship of sorts. Him disappearing all night and coming back to the barracks the next day with marks and bites on his neck that mirrored yours was a pretty big hint. They all agreed not to push him about it, he would talk about it in his own time, and they had never brought it up to you. Until now that is.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do about his behaviour, you know as well as I do that when he’s in one of his moods only he can get himself out of it” you sign off a report, marking a group of cadets as medically fit for battle before turning to face the men in front of you.

“Nah you mellow him out big time” Wrecker states as if it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. You simply raise an eyebrow at the large man before turning to the others. They simply nod in agreement before Hunter speaks up again; “Look we don’t care what’s going on but he’s being an absolutely insufferable di’kut today, and I know it’s not your job to settle him down, but if you could, I don’t know, do something to help calm him down before he comes back to the barracks we would appreciate it” he’s rubbing his temples. Damn, maybe he has been worse than usual.

“He means sex!” Wrecker belts out. Earning a chiding “Don’t be so crass Wrecker” from Tech before he also looks at you “he is correct though” he adjusts his goggles, somewhat uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. You sign off on the rest of your reports before logging off your terminal for the day before gathering your things, looking up at the batch you let out a sigh, “I’ll do what I can but I have no promises that I’ll be able to do anything about him” you power down your terminal and move towards the door to your office, Hunter opening it and ushering his brothers through before throwing a thankful look in your direction and following his squad back towards their barracks.

Its two hours later that there is an alert at your door signalling that you have a visitor. You make your way over to the entrance to your modest quarters, lights turned low, clad in only a thin robe as your door slides open revealing Crosshair, still in his armour, 773 Firepuncher resting against his hip as he taps his foot impatiently against the floor before barging past you into your room.

“Well hello to you too Crosshair” you close the door and turn to face him, watching as he leans his precious rifle against the wall of your room and begins shedding his armour, dropping the hard plastoid haphazardly to the ground before he’s standing before you in just his blacks. “Single braincell sharing di’kuts locked me out of the barracks” he huffs before removing his boots and laying back on your bed.

You chuckle at that, if there was one thing Crosshair could do, it was be very creative with insults. Usually however they were being thrown at the regs, not his own squad. “Well from what I’ve heard you’ve been a little abrasive today Cross” you smile at him, sitting down on the bed next to his stretched-out form, running a hand along his clothed thigh as he relaxes against your pillows, arms folded behind his head as his eyes track the movement of your hand against him. He just huffs, not bothering to deny it.

“Wanna talk about it?” you move fully onto the bed now, kneeling between his legs as your hands continue to soothe circles into the tense muscles.

“No.” he deadpans, eyes tracking the movement of your hands working their way up his calves to his thighs.

“Do you think your brothers deserve to be on the receiving end of your shitty attitude?” you side eye him. You do hate nagging him, but sometimes it does take a gentle nudge for your grump kinda-boyfriend to get the hint.

“No Sir” its almost a whisper, and your eyes widen slightly. Oh, so this is how he wants it to got tonight? Sir is only ever used in one context when it comes to you and Crosshair, usually its Doc or whatever name he chooses from a plethora of pet names he has for you.

Sir only means one thing.

You smirk down at him as he avoids eye contact with you. Crosshair is an experienced man, you knew this when you first started whatever this thing is that the two of you have going on, however he still sometimes has trouble giving up control without feeling well… embarrassed for lack of a better term.

You continue running your hands up his thighs, towards the growing tent in his undersuit, purposely avoiding it and moving your fingers into the waistband of his blacks, peeling the tight fabric from his body. “Blacks off, then hands by your sides. You don’t touch me or yourself unless instructed, understood?” ordering clones around comes rather naturally to you, considering the number of soldiers that seem to dislike medical exams more than separatists, you’ve developed a ‘no nonsense’ tone over your time working on Kamino that also happens to work very well in situations like these.

You move over to your bedside table, retrieving all the necessities, before turning back towards Crosshair who is now naked, hands by his sides and staring up at the ceiling just as you ordered. “Hm, looks like you can follow orders” you sneer at him, and you don’t miss the shudder that wracks his body as he finally makes eye contact with you. You pop open the bottle of lube, coating your fingers with a generous amount before tossing the closed bottle onto the bed. His cock is throbbing, beads of precum shining in the low light before rolling off the tip of his length and leaking onto his toned abs.

“Wider” is all you say, all you need to say as Crosshair opens his legs, allowing you access to his puckered hole. You run a single finger around the rim before slowly breaching him, pushing it inside ever so slowly. You watch his face for any signs of discomfort but his parted lips, rapid breathing and throbbing cock indicate anything but. You add a second finger, slowly scissoring his entrance open, trying to find that perfect spot that will have him coming apart at the seams.

He's writhing and moaning, fists still clenched obediently at his sides as he screws his eyes shut. You’re hitting that perfect spot inside of him over and over again but he knows he can’t cum yet, the two of you have done this enough that he knows he needs your permission to cum.

You run your free hand along his body, avoiding his weeping length, the pads of your fingers glide along his tensing abs as your didgets continue working him open. Once you’re satisfied that he is adequately prepared, you remove your fingers, earning a low groan from the man beneath you as you wipe them on the sheets next to you. “What do you want tonight? You’ve been such a good boy, no touching or talking out of turn. I’ll reward you by letting you decide what you get” you give him a sweet smile as he pants atop your sheets, sweat clinging to his body as he looks over at you with blown pupils.

“I… I want your cock…” you frown down at him, trying to look as disappointed as possible as if the sight of Crosshair looking entirely debauched beneath you wasn’t slowly eroding your dominant fa��ade. “Now here I was about to reward you for being a good boy… that’s no way to ask for what you want” you stand up off the bed, moving to tie the robe tighter around you as you hear him whimper out a soft apology. “Sorry, Sir, please let me have your cock Sir” he looks like he’s about to move his arms to reach out for you before he steadies himself, keeping them firmly balled in the sheets of you bed by his sides.

You smile, he really was getting the hang of it. Removing the thin robe around your body and retrieving the leather harness from where it was placed on your bedside table, you slide it up your legs before securing it tightly around your body. The entire time Crosshair’s gaze is transfixed, as if he’s enthralled by the sight of you. You smile down at him again, face softening slightly as you take in his form. He’s absolutely ruined and you haven’t even gotten to the main course yet. Eyes blown wide, cock flushed and leaking, chest rising and falling with rapid ragged breaths.

“Hands and knees pretty boy” you order and him and he obeys immediately, shifting into position with a strangled “yes sir”.

You kneel behind him on the bed, resting the faux cock against his prepared entrance, teasing him before breaching him with the thick head of the strap. His eyes flutter shut, fists clenching and unclenching as he lets out a loud moan. You take a handful of his ass as you slowly feed the thick toy into him as he writhes and groans beneath you, head shoved into the pillow muffling his sounds as the stretch of the toy overwhelms him.

After what feels like an eternity, you’re fully sheathed inside of him, stretching him out before setting a brutal pace. “Does this feel good baby? Is this exactly what you needed to take your mind off things?” you’re panting now from thrusting in and out of him, hips pounding into his as you repeatedly hit that spot inside of him that has him whining and moaning your name. “Y-yes Sir kriff- Thank you sir” his voice has been reduced to a course whisper as he nears his peak at an alarming speed, his neglected cock leaking a steady stream of precum onto the sheets beneath him as he fists the sheets.

“Sir can I cum… Kriff sir please” his voice cracks on the last word. Usually you would make him work harder for it, beg more, but he seems to already be holding himself back and you can’t bring yourself to torture him anymore, especially since he’s been so good tonight. “Let go baby” your words send him over the edge, ecstasy washing over him as he lets out a string of ‘thank you’s before you pull out and he collapses onto the bed beneath him.

You rid yourself of the toy before turning on the shower. You walk over to the bed and hoist Crosshair up, carrying most of his weight on your shoulder as you lead him towards the running water.

“feeling better?” your voice is soft, its teasing edge from before nowhere to be found. The soft smile he gives you is proof enough that whatever mood he was in before has passed and you feel your chest swell with pride knowing that Wrecker was right, you do mellow him out. You watch him stand on unsteady legs under the warm water before leaving to change the sheets.

Despite being locked out of the barracks you always knew he was going to be staying in your room tonight.  

@where-is-my-mind-tho @starborncyare @antishadow2021 @healingskywalker @crosshairlovebot

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for future Crossmut

[badchoicesworld]

GOING FERAL GOING STUPID WE CAN BE SPECIFIC LET'S GOOO

Okay could. I order a fic with The Spot who met the Reader via LITERALLY FALLING INTO THEIR HOUSE. Entered their universe and fell directly into the livingroom. Thing that sets this universe apart? It's a universe where people have wings! Reader is based on a cockatiel, grey wings with a white patch! Either first time meeting or maybe reader asks him to help preen their wings? Gender neutral!! Tysm I love being specific grgrgrgrrggr <333

the spot falls into winged readers home !

RAGAHAGSGAHAGGRRAGR GRGGRRAGAGRG i’m foaming at the mouth *leans on expensive car* heyyyy 🤭 I FUCKING LOVE WINGS GRGAGRGAHRA ok rq, im an artist and also just obsessed with wings and i curse god everyday that we didn’t evolve with them, i instil the fear of god into people when i explain accurate anatomy if people had wings and actually could fly cause there are characteristics you need like hollow bones and all the muscles that go into functioning arms- you’ve unleashed something powerful, okami

please . talk to me about this . if you would like to . *poses in front of expensive house*

warnings: none, i may rant throughout about wings im sorry

pairing: the spot x gn!reader

requests: refer to the masterlist

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

imagine ur surprise when a black hole suddenly opened up in your house and a guy fell through it ! how strange !

your wings fiercely tense up in an intimidating way while you watch the strange figure fumble to stand up, despite being on solid ground it looks like he has sea legs

“Oh- oh god, I am *so* sorry,” he’s baffled himself, as he puts it: “i’m still getting used to my holes”

aren’t we all 😪

it’s takes him a little while to notice all the subtle differences in your home to the typical house in his dimension; the way that doors are taller and there’s a lot more accommodation to winged individuals, which he then noticed you are

you see that weird hole in his face narrow as he studies you from a distance, like a true scientist

i think he’d be really interested in your wings at first, from a scientific view

asking you all sorts of questions while slowly backing out of the room “I like your wings, by the way! they’re very.. anatomically correct”

he’s clearly intrigued, but also trespassing and he truly didn’t mean to

depending on your own response depends on his urgency

“Wow! that’s great- is everyone here like that or is it some kind of mutation? It doesn’t matter, let me get out of your wings- hair!” the whole time he’s doing all of these wild gestures with his hands while his long ass legs carry him towards the exit, his joints stiff while he attempts to evade a confrontation

“They’re very beautiful,” is the last off handed thing he says before pulling your door open to leave your house

now, if society is accommodated to a civilisation of people with wings, there may very well be a very large drop from you home that most people can easily pass over with wings

but spot doesn’t have those

cue him almost plummeting to his death ? but a hole opens up and it open right back into your home, resulting in spot falling into your living space once again

“Oh, would you look at that! trespassing, again!” he curls in on himself in a very pathetic way before getting up again (ily spot)

you’ve just kinda tolerated his presence while all this goes down

but i don’t think you guys are new to the whole stranger danger thing, so you don’t befriend spot immediately

but imagine this becomes a stupidly common occurrence throughout the weeks

every once in a while, he drops by and each time you get a little more tolerant of him, he’s a little funny and also silly

you eventually get on name basis, and you can see he’s getting better at controlling his holes

sometimes he literally just drops through one hole and falls straight through the other, it’s a very short exchange

“hi y/n” and he’s gone

but say it’s ever gotten to the stage where you guys are actually equated, he may one day fall into your home while you’re struggling to preen your own wings

an honest struggle, not a chance i could stretch far enough w my bones popping at minor movement

he’s even started to land on his feet sometimes, and he’s very proud of himself

“ta-da!” he lands, arms outstretched while he still stumbled a little

“oh, are you preening?” most genuinely interested and curious tone ever

he approaches like a fucking rat, a little hunched over with his arms mimicking a t-rex

you can decide how significant your wings are, if they’re a big part of ur culture and ur a bit reluctant to let spot touch them

which i honestly think he’ll respect

“oh, nono! it’s okay,” will keep his distance but now is stood a little awkwardly

but if you’re chill with him touching your wings, man’s thrilled

might whisper something silly like “oo, science!” as he approaches with an outstretched hand

and hey, if you go the extra step further and let him preen you, go ahead

does he know what he’s doing ? no, and he’s confident he’ll fuck it up somehow

please show him and/or give him instruction that include when to breath and blink please

admittedly is staring more at how your wings connect to your back more than anything else, he’s very intrigued in your anatomy

would never say that out loud, dear god

but once you’ve given him instructions, he’s on that shit pretty attentively

he’s a scientist, he’ll figure it out

it’s a sight and a half though, it looks like monkeys grooming each other lmao

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

i genuinely think of a reality all of the time where society had wings and relied on that for travel instead of cars n shit- would we need a licence to fly out in public like dbz ? would the type of wings you have be native to the birds from the place you were born, are the genes recessive from your parents n shit- how disability would be handled and how things would be accessible to people who can’t fly im going insane

i shit you not my spidersona has a few concepts, he’s a character i’ve had for a little while from an mnm campaign- he’s a mutant that has accurate bird mutations so tail feathers and wings and i thought it might have been too cliche for me to like say “he’s spiderman in a dimension where society evolved to have wings!” and it felt mary sue and i was afraid so i took his beautiful wings away hem hem whimper

[ephemerensis]

Here You’re Safe // Joel Miller x GN! Reader

another platonic gender neutral dad joel moment. TRIGGER WARNING DEATH like of a major character please proceed with caution !!! anyways this took me so long skkshd and the ending is rushed and rlly bad im sorry its 2 am :/ not proofread ALSO!! if i published a poetry book would yall read it :/

—

“Anything bad down there?” Ellie jutted a finger towards an empty hall, lined with lockers.

Outside, the wind screamed its grievances, making the old building creak whenever a particularly cruel gust swept by. It was winter in the middle of the country, and as much as the three of you adored the idea of camping outside, the snow violently pouring from the skies argued otherwise.

Thankfully, Joel found a school building nearby before the storm. A high school, it looked like. On the way in, you saw traces of the treacherous cordyceps roots intertwining through the doorway and walls. But you didn’t have much of a choice with the weather, and they were dry. Hardly anyone lived in the area to get infected anyways, and winter seemed to slow them down; the infected. Not the fungi itself. It grew just fine. Thrived even, in colder climates.

“Just you.” You bit back a chortle as Ellie scrunched her nose, almost peeved.

“You know that joke gets fucking old, Joel. I’m not even in there yet.”

The burly man just shrugged, adjusting his rifle strap as he slowed his steps to a halt, “isn’t a joke.”

“He can’t help it, he’s like eighty. Can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” You shrugged your pack off your shoulders, setting it on the floor to get situated for the time being. The man just grunted in response, glancing around the building before taking a seat at one of the long tables that littered the room. They were askew; clearly a struggle took place there sometime, but judging by the copious amount of dust that coated the place it couldn’t have been all too recent. Joel was sure it was clear, otherwise they would’ve heard you by now. The school wasn’t all that large after all.

“Whatever,” piped Ellie, rolling her eyes. She reached for your sleeve, tugging you towards the hall. “Cmon! I wanna explore a little!” Giggling, you let her lead you off, throwing a glance back to Joel before the two of you rounded the corner. His brows were deep set, almost furrowed above his eyes, as they usually were; but he looked about as relaxed as you imagined the man could manage.

“Hey!” he called after you. “It’s mostly dry, but you watch your step, understand? Haven’t cleared it completely.”

The two of you hardly heard him, though, distracted instead by the rows of little blue locked cabinets you’d only read about in passing. A lot of the world before was a wonder after growing up in the QZ. It felt like rediscovering a myth.

“This is so fucking cool!” Ellie ran her hand along a row of them, rattling the metal doors against their frame. It was a wonder they weren’t rusted after all these years, but they seemed almost untouched if not a little dusty.

“Didn’t you go to high school? In the QZ?” You didn’t get to. Before Joel and Tess you were a well kept secret, and after that didn’t change much either. They’d let you out as you pleased after awhile but you never went to school; ‘don’t need to be feeding you FEDRA propaganda,’ so they homeschooled you instead. Mostly Tess. Joel quipped in every now and then but he didn’t usually have the best wisdom to impart onto you. Aside from bedtime novels, that was always his specialty.

“Yeah but it was tiny. Just a gym and some classrooms.” Ellie had her head under a drinking fountain, staring at the pipes as she mashed the button. “This stuff is so metal, literally. It’s like your own little room at school!” Abandoning the fountain when no water emerged, she turned her attention back to the paint chipped lockers, “you think they left shit in here?”

“Like corny love letters maybe,” you tugged on one of locks to test it. It didn’t budge, as you’d assumed. Thoughts of life before were so enigmatic. They were more scared of the math test next class then when their next meal was gonna be. It almost made you jealous. It would if they weren’t probably dead. Better to grow up in hell then suddenly get thrust into it.

Behind you, metal squeaked as Ellie got one of them open, “Oh shit! Wait wait wait, Y/N check me out!” You turned around, lips pursed together in a crooked smile when you saw her. She’d found someone’s baseball cap and sunnies. Ellie flipped the bill back and slipped the sunglasses on, forcing a deeper voice as she swaggered in your direction. “Yooo what’s up bro, you going to my place tonight? Throwing a huge party!”

She pressed her hand into the locker, beside your head, leaning in. The moment your eyes locked eyes behind her darkened frames you both burst into laughter. Shaking your head, you took on a dumb expression before replicating her tone, “man, is Britney gonna be there? She’s a total babe!”

Ellie snorted, sending you both into another fit of toe curling laughter. It was all so absurd. You pushed off the locker when you’d regained your bearings, walking backwards as you tugged on the locks to see if any would pop.

“Is that really how they talked back then?”

Ellie shrugged, tugging on locks on the opposite wall as the two of you ventured forth. “Gotta be, that’s how it is in books.”

One of the locks you tugged on gave way, making you grin as you pried it open. Pulling out a binder, you thumbed through the pages before a little booklet caught your attention.

“Here, catch!” She caught it with ease as you tossed the comic book over.

“No way! Batman!” Ellie flipped through the pages with fervor, pausing in her pursuit down the hall. You, however, continued slowly wandering backwards.

You giggled, shaking your head at her glee.

A sickening crunch wiped the smile off your face.

Ellie gasped, staring at you with wide eyes as you muffled a scream. Looking down towards the source of the noise, you see it.

The semblance of a hand disintegrated under your foot. The body it belonged to seemingly dried out long ago, pressed flat against the wall of lockers it clung to.

The both of you stared a moment, as you slowly backed away in relief. Until you saw the tendrils lurking in the undergrowth, reaching towards you. Worse still, the rumbling sound that suddenly emerged from the upper floor made you blood run cold.

Shit.

Ellie saw it too, bolting first but you were quick to follow.

“Joel!” You called, turning the corner, almost colliding with him. “We have to run!”

“Y/N! Ellie! What’s going on?” The man was already ready, bags slung over his shoulder with a look of bewilderment embedded on his features.

Ellie pushed Joel forward, “Not fucking dry!” The three of you ran, making your way back the way you came. The thundering sounds of footsteps hitting hardwood grew nearer. Joel lead the way, rounding every corner with his shotgun raised.

“Why didn’t they hear us when we came in?” You choked out in a panicked whisper. Normally they came bolting at any noise you offered.

“It’s winter, were probably huddled to keep the hosts alive. Mushrooms can take the cold, but the bodies can’t.” Joel whispered back. The timbre in his voice was almost enough to soothe you, he sounded more tired than distressed as he pressed on.

“What do we do?” Ellie piped.

“Gotta get outta here first.” The three of you cleared another corner, sprinting down a hall. A violent thud against one of the classroom doors made you lose your footing, sending you plummeting towards the ground. You gasped as three runners pounded aggressively against the door, piling and clawing at the ancient thing long enough for the rusted hinges to give way.

“Shit!” Somewhere out of the corner of your eye you see Ellie pull out a knife as the three infected tumbled forward. They piled on top of each other, all scrambling to gain their footing and lunge at the nearest person in the room; you. You shuffled panickedly backwards, working to get up and kick the topmost one off your leg.

Ellie stabs one in the head, making the arm fall limp and successively freeing you. You managed to stand upright, the other two still clawing but trapped under the weight of the first. Joel fires a bullet, ceasing another one’s movement as they three of you back away from them.

Before he can shoot the third, the rumbling gets louder.

You’re all sprinting before you can fully gain your bearings. The burn in your lungs was starting to settle in, but the echos of clicks and groans mixed with the pummeling of foot steps filling the halls kept you motivated. Your heart beat so quickly in your chest, you thought it might burst out.

The doors leading out were in sight, though. The wind that bashed against it was less than inviting, but beyond that— the worn mahogany didn’t budge when you shoved. Ellie reached it first, nearly falling as she bodied the double doors. The snow must’ve piled up outside.

A glance and a nod were all you needed before the three of you charged against it unanimously. Once. The doors shook and the sound resounded, seemingly worsening the agitation of the horde heading your way. A second charge made it squeak open, the biting wind flaying your skin as it made contact. The first of the infected rounded the corner, running at you full force before you’d managed a third charge against the doors.

They burst open, giving way to a powerful gust that hit you like a wall. Joel made sure you both got out before he followed, pressing against the wind to get away.

The infected fared worse. Clickers wouldn’t be able to hear with all this noise, and runners couldn’t manage to fight the wind. Most of then fell behind, the few that persisted did so slowly; sinking perpetually deeper in the plush snow in their pursuit.

Fighting against the biting currents of the frigid wind, the three of you paved a way into the tree line. Immersed in forest, the storm felt better. The trees blocked off some of the wind to an extent, and as far as you were concerned no infected seemed to have tagged along thus far.

The ache in your bones was starting to settle as the storm did. You were deep in the woods by then, no sense of direction or time— but with the way the moon hung so high in the sky it couldn’t have been close to daybreak. Joel slowed to a halt, nodding at both of you before you and Ellie breathed a collective sigh.

Ellie dropped her bag to the ground, almost falling over. Your knees felt a surge of weakness too. The snow looked so soft you could sleep in it. You bent forward, heaving, hands on your knees. If you were born before the whole thing went down the cardio alone would’ve been enough to kill you, it was much better to be born into the apocalypse, you decided.

Thankfully you didn’t leave too much behind. A sleeping bag and more cans of food than you would’ve liked were lost, but you’d find more food and you had two sleeping bags still.

Everything settled enough for you to hear again. Between gasps of breath you could hear the crickets chirping. It was almost tranquil.

Ellie seemed the first to recover, standing up and stretching her arms overhead before stilling. She stared ahead at nothing in particular, cogs processing the monstrosity you’d just escaped.

“That was fucking brutal.”

You looked up to offer a laugh. Her dry humor in times like these were enough to send you into orbit sometimes; but that was when you saw it.

The lone stalker that lurched for her before you could yell a warning. Before you could think you reacted. Grabbing Ellie by her collar, you yanked her forward and out of its path.

Instead, if collided with your arms pushing against its chest with all the force you had left in you to muster. It was stronger, of course, knocking you down almost immediately as it clawed at you. You screamed as it opened its mouth, long tendrils extending themselves towards you, wriggling morosely.

Ellie was still in the thralls of scrambling up, but Joel took notice. A well aimed bullet made it collapse. Joel rushed to help haul it off you as you screamed from the pure terror and adrenaline coursing through your veins, clamoring as far away from it as your shaken body could manage.

He looked at you with a concern you hardly recognized, not that you even looked to see it. Everyone was still a moment until Ellie said your name.

“Y/N…” she said it uncharacteristically nervously, a shaky finger pointed towards the shining red that stained the snow beneath your palm.

You raised your hand to your face, barely able to see in the moonlight, but the indentations of teeth on your marred flesh was unmistakable.

Ironically, your veins felt icier than the frost covered leaves as you stared at it; shell shocked.

This was never supposed to happen. You’d always made it through before, why now? Not you. It could never have been you.

Ellie fell to her knees, fists bunching the fabric of your shirt as she shook you, tears in her eyes threatening to fall. “Y/N what the fuck! Why’d you do that!”

“No. No no no,” you murmured.

“I’m immune!” She was screaming at you now. “I’m fucking immune! I would’ve been—“

The older man cut her off, pushing her hands off you but not with more force than was enough to make her release her grip. He looked at you with the same shock that gripped your eyes. His hands hovered you, hesitant, but the gentle movement broke your stupor. Looking up at him you quivered under the weight of it all, “Joel.”

He looked at you with something you couldn’t quite grasp. It was pity and shock and hurt and all of it but none of it. Somewhere in the confines of his empathy and loving was a deep rooted instinct to compartmentalize. What was done was done. But you needed him now. The bullet was shot, but the dust hadn’t settled.

“Joel, I’m so scared.” Tears were already streaming, and you knew he couldn’t do anything about it; both of you knew. But as his weighty arms wrapped taut around your shoulders, it was good enough a cure. You inhaled, letting his familiar burnt wood settle in your lungs as it’d done a thousand times before.

“Shh, shh. I know baby, I know.” His hand pat rhythmically against your spine.

It’s over. It’s really over.

That’s all you could think. Behind Joel, Ellie just stared silently. It wasn’t out of anger or guilt or even pity. None of these things ever seemed real, and the three of you had been doing this together for so long. You’d survived so much of it all, and she was the cure. The hopeless, helpless cure. What else could she do?

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Joel wasn’t one to sugarcoat or lie. So often he said so little, every morsel of information or sentimentality you could pry from him felt more satisfying than a warm shower on a cold day. Maybe it wasn’t because he didn’t know what else to say. You were in hysterics and at the end after all.

But it felt true.

Your hand throbbed, but not more than the feeling of the ache in your bones— something you’d gotten used to after years of running. The air was stiller than it was before, it didn’t hold the bite of bitter wind it had moments earlier. In fact, after all the snow, it felt clear and crisp in your lungs. The birds cooed their grievances to the world overhead, never ceasing their song even in the middle of night. And the stars were so beautifully bright, it was enough to feel enveloped. Here, in this moment, in Joel’s arms, you were okay.

He’d only pulled you closer, almost swaying you with him as he kept the rhythm of his hand against your spine. You could hear how fast his heartbeat, “You remember that toy rabbit you had as a kid? What was his name? Pete? Peter?”

“Percy,” you whispered after a while. Rabbit was a strong word to describe it. It might’ve looked like one before, but by time it got to you it was anything but. Discarded and trampled on as people rampaged out of cities and infectious conjunctions. It was a mottled gray little thing, with an ear and both eyes missing. The other ear consistently found itself, for the better half of five years, securely grasped in your little hands. Regardless, you loved it. You named it the way you would’ve named a real rabbit, if you could’ve had one before all this. You held it the way you would imagine your parents held you, before all this.

“Yeah that’s right,” his chest vibrated against the side of your face as he chuckled. “You used to carry him everywhere, didn’t you? Thought you were gonna kill me when I took him to wash. Would holler bloody murder, it was a wonder the neighbors never complained.”

The wind settled earlier with the storm, and eventually so did the pace of your heartbeat. You smiled at the memory, strangely bashful. It’s almost an insult to Joel and Tess to say Percy was all you had. They gave you food, shelter, company on some days. But for the first few years he was all you had. He was promised and he was yours. Percy was the first you could ever call your own. It felt often like he was all you had. Especially on nights when the two of them were on runs, and the Fireflies would stir fights against FEDRA outside. Percy shielded you from the sounds of gunshot then.

“Course eventually you outgrew him; which was never bad! Used to get jealous of how often you’d hug it and not your old man.” He sounded wistful. You calmed down enough to pull back, now suffering from a bout of hiccups and sniffles as you tried to regain your bearings. Joel didn’t let you go, though. You stayed in his arms. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond, offering a small smile in its place.

How could he be jealous of a silly little rabbit? Percy was all you thought you had then. But you knew better. Joel was all you had ever. He was all you would ever have again.

“Then there was that kid, down the street. Darwin or something?”

Damian. An awkward, lanky, 8 year old boy, with sand colored hair that never lay flat and a tooth that was perpetually missing. Of course, you were 9 at the time and you didn’t want to play with “little kids.”

Joel really sucked with names. You knew that. He was getting on in his years, but even when he was younger— they never stuck for him. People were untrustworthy and irrelevant, it was hard to want to try. So it meant a lot anyways when he halfway blundered the names of your childhood acquaintances. To you what was so fleeting was important enough for him to commit to memory, as cold as he could be. You never thought he’d cared so much.

“Brought you sidewalk daisies for months! Damn near ripped his head off, was about fed up with his yapping and stammering around you.” You smiled at that. Damian’s crush on you was so annoying then, but sometimes on longer days you’d wished someone would love you with the same persistence— even if it was a silly boy a year younger than you. “But you were always pretty, anyone could see it. No one will ever be good enough, though. Or, would be.”

Joel said the last part almost as a whisper. It felt like a death sentence, though you all knew there was no hope for you. A silence settled over your heads, you could feel it in your lungs as you inhaled the air that felt so crisp and clean and clear. Lungs that were still alive and well.

It would be dawn soon. And they had to go. The world was cold and bitter; they needed to get to shelter and then continue to their agenda. They. Joel and Ellie.

And when they went your lungs would still work, and you still breathe in clean crisp air. But they wouldn’t be breathing for you.

So, pulling far enough away from Joel to look him in the eyes you plead wordlessly. They darted between his, begging him to understand their request and praying for him to accept it.

It took a moment, confusion crossed his face before it dawned on him. Though he should’ve known what you wanted.

He shook his head, holding your gaze. It was a cruel thing to ask. To want. How could he when he raised you? When he loved you?

But you just nodded. He had to. It was all you wanted. So the two of you just looked at each other and pleaded. You knew you were going to win. Joel always yielded for you.

Your eyes shifted for a moment to lock with Ellie’s, offering her a small smile. She looked confused, looking between you and Joel as the pieces started to fall into place.

You looked back to Joel again, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him for the last time. Your eyes fell shut and you felt him squeeze you back. It was so warm here.

“Love you, Dad.”

You were safe here.

And that’s the last thing you knew before he pulled the trigger.

—

likes and reblogs appreciated !!

[sea-saur]

gender rant under the cut

ok here's the thing i've been on t for a little over a year now and i had top surgery back in september of '22 so like i'm cooking right im a little guy in an incubator and my voice has changed for sure and my bottom growth is growing and im getting more hair in places etc etc so like things are happening right. but i'm also 5'2" and have a big ole ass and while my voice has changed it isn't changed enough to pass and while yes i have more body hair plenty of cis girls have more body hair than me and like basically i'm getting on and off dysphoria for not passing. i don't even WANT to pass as a cis man, i just want to NOT be read immediately as a girl. you know? and frankly i'm happy with the body hair and bottom growth and it'd be nice if my fat redistribution kicked in a little more but i'm comfortable with my weight etc etc like....frankly i think it's mostly the voice. the voice and the face. like if my face looked more boyish and my voice sounded more boyish i think the rest of my body would coast cause i've seen enough chubby guys of various shapes to not really feel that self conscious about my body. it's the face and voice that sell it.

and the other thing is like....i have this thing where it's like 'i don't pass as a boy therefore i'm not one' when i don't put that requirement on any other queer person but for ME living it mentally? it's hard to put together the 'i walk around and am read as a girl, and i was raised as a girl, and hell i frankly WAS a girl up until my 20's like that's a part of who i am and im not ashamed of that, i love child me she is important to who i am as a person and frankly i'm grateful to be trans in that way, i think growing up a girl can make me a better guy" (and yeah there's a lot of privilege to be able to say i love being trans, i'm in a large city and work in an industry where queerness is accepted and often celebrated so like. i know. i'm really very very lucky and im extremely grateful for that) but mentally, it's hard for me to even see myself as a transmasc person when i don't SEE it physically, AND because my insides are still me. like i'm still me. and i didn't grow up as feeling like a boy in a girls body. i'm still some kind of nonbinary, still very queer in general, like being bi puts an interesting spin on this too since i have never been and don't associate my personal self with lesbian spaces, or gay men spaces, i sort of float in any queer generalities that people are into. but yeah, never really clicked with lesbian specific environments. i love lesbians but im just not one.

BUT i was raised a girl, so i feel COMFORTABLE around women, often times more than men. queer people in general of any gender are number 1, but ya know. the gist is coming off of a gig the last month that was very queer coded in the musical we were doing, and being surrounded by queer women making lesbian jokes, i felt...simultaneously left out (no one was leaving me out, to be clear, i mean within my own personal identity crisis lol) and also too included. i don't know. a lot of it is in my head, people are often good about my pronouns and frankly i don't KNOW how my usual colleagues see me as a person, if they have to work harder to reframe their interpretation of me away from "girl" and into "transmasc person" since i worked with a number of them before i started medically transitioning. thankfully i always read as a queer person haha. i have that going for me, which does feel very affirming.

idk. even my own apartment decor gives me dysphoria sometimes, which drives me crazy!! i like my apartment decor! I keep trying to do little things to "masc" it up, neutralize it a little, even tho i love all the things i've put in my home. i need new curtains.

there's nothing more to do about it right now i guess, besides try and take more active steps toward my legal name change, and potentially switching from t gel to injections, but that scares me because i'm afraid of doing it wrong and hurting myself. the gel is safer that way. and the dose is daily so i think it gives are more consistent level throughout the week. i also don't know exactly how much i want to pass as "just some guy" even tho this entire rant is literally about that. i think that my fear is that i look cis/straight, which frankly idk that i ever even would based on how i am as a person, so idk why i'm worried about it. basically, i want to stop feeling like i'm 'pretending' to be transmasc. cause sometimes it feels like it's all a lie and im actually just a girl who doesn't want to be a girl but is stuck as one. especially since i don't want to be a cis guy either. i also don't want to lose my ties to my past - i don't connect with womanhood, but i don't want to lose the "sisterhood" for lack of a better term? But also really want to be part of the queer "brotherhood" that i feel like i can't be based on where i am as a person? idk i feel a lot of the time that when im in my own home, im just a little goosey guy. the second i leave my apartment and im percieved, i'm a masculine woman to the world. and even tho masculine women are the fucking shit, im just not that!! and so. dysphoria.

[orangelemonsstuff]

Okay so-- few months ago me and my friend were talking about what if DOL has an ending, bad one, since me and my friend are bad ending enthusiasts, it gave me an idea i shared to them months ago.

its pretty shit but i enjoyed writing it lmao

Neutral Bad Ending

MC comes home wet by the rain outside, they will come asking around orphans about Bailey's whereabouts, a orphan would approach them and say Bailey is currently occupying the bathroom,

There are two scenarios that might happen with this ending:

1. If PC is in High Trauma or just achieved the Whitney and Robin Park cutscene/event (which i made up in my mind), PC would ask for the orphan's hair dryer saying "needing to dry their hair because of the rain" before heading to the bathroom where Bailey is in and plugging it on the extension cord, a moment later, Bailey would notice PC's presence and would ask "what the fuck do you want brat? can't you see im in here?" PC would just give him a stare and would ask for his birthday

Defiant: "When's your birthday Bailey?"

Neutral: "i just want to know when is your birthday Bailey?"

Submissive: "W-well, i want to ask... w-when is your birthday Bailey?

At this, Bailey would respond "Why the hell would you want to know? i don't want any of your crappy gifts", PC will insist that they should just say when it is and they'll leave, Bailey would give it up and say "June 12, now get the fuck out of here." PC would smile at them saying that they'll remember it before throwing the plugged hair dryer on a extension cord at the bathub with Bailey.

If PC with High Trauma or the Whitney and Robin event (again made up in my head which i didn't write yet) is not acquired but Robin is on the underground brothel or the Orphanage had gained Rebellious trait it would follow this scene:

2. PC would pull some furnishings from around the orphanage towards the bathroom door exclusively trapping Bailey in the bathroom, the orphans would look at them confusedly and they will just assure them that they will end all of this, the orphans will still not get it but they will help PC pushing the furnitures, it has three stages

"You cover the bathroom door with furnitures and large objects, Its barely covered. he/she could come out easy"

"You cover the bathroom door with furnitures and large objects, Most parts were covered. he/she would sturggle to come out"

"You covered the bathroom door with furnitures and large objects. the door is fully covered. he/she cannot come out."

if high skullduggery, Should PC and the orphans move the furnitures quitely through the bathroom door, if not a chair would make a screeching sound alerting Bailey making the Player choose if they should take the risk on continuing or not.

*not continuing would fail this ending even if the door is already covered fully

continuing, would have Bailey rattling the doorknob only to not being able to open it, Bailey would soon bang the door for all of them to remove the blockage at once or else they will taste their wrath, but with PC contiuing and successfully covering the door, they hurry and lead the other orphans outside as they pick up a canister of gasoline and surrounded the whole orphanage with it including the furnitures near the bathroom door, they will pick up a match on Bailey's office and lit the gasoline tracks on fire.

••

EH? EH? WHATCHA THINK??? tbh this is just a fun lil concept on an ending i made up in my mind since i played a lot of otome games and gained a lot of bad endings... which happened too much to be considered normal cuz normally i just fuck around with characters lmao, but i hope you enjoyed it.

[tavina-writes]

Get To Know Me Meme

Tagged by @watertightvines hi Vines! Thanks for the tag! and tagging @urisarang, @im-sublimey, @jubileen, and anyone else who wants to play!

Do you make your bed?

Uhhhh. Sometimes! The comforters have to be layered JUST SO so that I create the exact right dimensions of blanket burrito when I go to bed at night and the pillows have to be in certain places, but sometimes if it was Just So Great, I will admit to rolling myself out of bed and just, keeping it like that lol.

What’s your favorite number?

I wish I could say that I'm very attached to a particular one in specific, but I think typically I like 8 and 6, because they're considered nice numbers... also I think a half dozen mini cupcakes is a very enticing offer lol.

What is your job?

I am a plant biologist!

If you could go back to school, would you?

Haha, I'm still in school. I'll probably be in school forever because I'm leaning towards going into academia. One day I'll be Dr. Tav or something! It'll be fun!

Can you parallel park?

No I cannot. I grew up in the country where we don't do streetside parking lolsob. This is a Struggle.

A job you had that would surprise people?

For a summer I counted aphids for a living! I don't think this surprises a lot of people who know me bc I have that "oh yeah I can see you doing that" vibe, but people are generally surprised that aphid counter can be a job you get paid for...

Do you think aliens are real?

I like to keep my mind open about it but I also remain skeptical. Neutral on the existence of aliens, very little to do with my normal life.

Can you drive a manual car?

Absolutely not.

What’s your guilty pleasure?

I like really bad low budget cdramas that have nonsensical plots! I think it keeps me attached to vibes and tropes.

Tattoos?

None because I am supremely boring.

Favorite color?

GREEN GREEN GREEN my beloved beautiful daughter. This surprises no one who knows me because I am a barrel cactus on the internet but there's not a single shade of green I do not love and adore. Slate Green. Jewel Toned Green. Emerald Green. Pastel Green. Neon Green. Lime Green. My beloved beautiful daughter. Perfect in every way.

Favorite type of music?

I think I listen to a lot of 00s-20s cpop? I am really fond of cdrama soundtracks! But I also listen to uhhh a lot of other stuff because I just really love music!

Do you like puzzles?

I am obsessed with large size landscape puzzles. The kind with 5 thousand pieces that you can sometimes find in university bookstores. Those are fun.

Any phobias?

Nop!

Favorite childhood sport?

I primarily did HIT THINGS WITH STICKS as a kid, but I was also a martial artist! So I also know how to HIT THINGS WITH FIST and HIT THINGS WITH STICK and HIT THINGS WITH SWORD, but admittedly I've fallen out of practice since the knee injury.

Do you talk to yourself?

Mostly in my head. Like "oh Tav, that was so tragic." but not really out loud!

What movies do you adore?

I am not hugely a movie person (can count the number of movies I've seen in the past five years on both hands with fingers left to spare) but I admit to be very attached to the Ip Man series, esp the first and second films and also Spirited Away.

Coffee or tea?

Both in varying quantities and times!

First thing you wanted to be growing up?

An Entomologist so I can Go To The Jungle and Study Beetles. Funnily enough, now I work in a lab that's in the department of entomology and occasionally I do plant insect interaction assays so you can say that I made it!

[simplynotcapable]

you've mentioned a few times in s.a.m abt visenya lamenting if she were a man... are there any lives where she was born a man and/or baelon a woman?? i wonder how their respective personalities would manifest if they were a different gender (ie. baelon/baela being another "problem" daughter pfft)

i can definitely see a life where they’re born gender swapped, and i think it would be a really interesting one.

(we’re still going to refer to baelon and visenya as the names and pronouns we know them by, just to keep it from getting twisted up in my head)

honestly i think baelon born as a girl would be a lot like silver and moonstone’s version of visenya. she’s a lot angrier and more intense and more violent than the dragonglass and gold version of herself, and that’s…basically baelon. angry, intense, violent. so much of that kind of gets brushed over when he’s a man because princes kind of just blaze through life with no consequences, but princesses don’t get that same grace.

baelon channels a lot of his emotions into physical stuff—sword play, trying to best the shit out of daemon, etc etc—to work through them. as a woman, there’s just less options for that. it isn’t proper for a princess to be sword fighting or hitting her uncle in the face, so he’s just this ball of furious energy that has nowhere to go.

having to fit into that box of societal expectations for women, having to play nice and be good and stay still…he’d lose his damn mind.

also, considering they’d probably…swap faces, in a way? baelon would be the one who looks like aemma.

baelon, who is so damn angry about his mother’s death and feels all this guilt about it—which would be even worse in this life, because viserys kills aemma in the hopes of getting a second son and is faced with a daughter he has no use for instead—and has so much rage towards viserys because of it. and all he ever hears is how much he looks like his mother??? with none of the ability to be like “i’ll be the best king ever to make her death worth it” like he does in d&g because literally he was useless to viserys as a girl?? he’s going to explode.

i can definitely see him being like Saera Targaryen 2.0, except instead of taking men to bed he’s just like getting into screaming matches with random people and setting things on fire and trying to fistfight god while visenya stands behind him like “therapy hasnt been invented yet just let this happen”

and visenya, well. i’d never describe her as quiet or kind, exactly, but she’s definitely much calmer than baelon is whenever they both exist. she’s very much what anchors him to himself, and he’s what settles her, and that doesn’t change even though they uno reversed each other. largely, she’s the same except for weapons training and a much better grasp of how to run the country.

but as a man, i think visenya has a different relationship with her father. viserys largely ignores her when baelon exists, except to compare her to her mother, and he uses her as a kind of ghost crutch whenever baelon dies, but it’s just kind of different when she’s a boy. he still doesn’t really see her, who she is as a person, but he actually looks at her instead of the dead mother in her face. and visenya doesn’t have the same fixation on their mother that baelon does because, to be blunt, she didnt kill her and she wasnt the reason why she died. she never even knew the lady. it makes everything a lot smoother with viserys than it is when she’s the only surviving twin or when baelon is the son. they’re definitely not close, but visenya’s more…neutral i guess.

they don’t have kids when baelon’s a girl.

visenya as a woman is willing to risk herself and get baelon to face his fears over pregnancy, but visenya as a man is never going to tell baelon he has to risk his life just to give them heirs. baelon says “no thanks, im terrified, hell no” and visenya goes “okay <3” and sends a letter to rhaenyra’s kids telling them to play rock paper scissors for the throne.

when the maester says the twins should separate so heirs can be conceived with someone else, he still dies. visenya gives him a three strike policy though.

it’s difficult to say whether it would be better or worse than the d&g universe, but there’s this: visenya wouldnt have a dragon and so wouldnt be sent to the Stepstones, which means they’re never even separated for war. literally their entire lives just…together. these codependent weirdos have not spent a day apart in their entire lives

[slimegirlwarlock]

wanted to make this its own post since it got really long and i didnt want to bog down ppls notes with it and its also just something i've been wanting to verbalize for a while. that said..

being fat is literally neutral. i may be thin but pretty much all of my mom's side of the family including one of my siblings are fat, and have been their entire lives. my brother was born at about twice the weight i was, he was always going to be fat. but guess what! he was athletic! he spent so much of his time through K-12 getting as fit and shedding as much weight as possible and guess what!!! he was still fat! too fat to pass the running tests required to graduate from basic training (i mean i have my own negative feelings toward the military but its something he cared about which (not to archair analyze too much) i feel largely stemmed from a need to prove he was as capable as a thin person) and he's been depressed ever since! he worked his whole life to be as physically fit as possible to prove society wrong but because of the way his body is built he's simply biologically incapable of moving fast like a lanky person (because just like. if you have a lot of mass condensed in a smaller area with shorter legs you just cannot move that mass as fast as even an 'average' sized person)

he only set those unobtainable standards for himself because of the way fat people are casually looked down upon in society.

i'm losing where im going with this exactly but my point is that the way fat people are treated is fucking abhorrent. what the fuck is wrong with all of you.

[geroya]

HAPPY KEME DAY!!!!! KEESES FOR U AND KEME <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 for the details about ocs: ✈️, 🎮, 🎶, 🔶, 🐷, 🤍, 😞, 🤒 <3 <3 <3 <3

HAPPY KEME DAY JO !!!!!! KEESES FOR UUUUU FROM ME & KEME 💞💞💞

send me oc asks for keme's birthday !

✈️ AIRPLANE — does your oc like traveling, or do they consider themselves a more homey person?

keme likes traveling ! he likes to get out of the house & do activities, however, he very much IS someone who depletes if he spends too long away from an environment that he finds familiar. 

🎮 VIDEO GAME CONTROLLER — what are three of your oc's favorite hobbies?

COOKING, obviously. gardening !!!! & tending to his horse, spending time with his horse, riding his horse. if he could spend all day with his horse he would <3

🎶 MUSICAL NOTES — what type of music does your oc like? do they listen to music very often?

keme is the type to have a whole zipper case of cassettes in his truck & will yank it out to flick through, fumbling around with this... strange precision to find the one he's looking for, and toss it into ur lap so that u can be in charge of putting it in. he's not a fan of most online music libraries (he doesnt really USE his mobile phone a lot for anything other than communication so…). & yeah ! he does listen to music often, it occupies his mind. he enjoys dancing, & can be found humming or whistling a tune whenever he's working in the kitchen or on the ranch. he also has a very nice voice.

as for the kind of music he listens to, i KNOW he listens to chris isaak & bruce springsteen & kate bush. i also think he would listen to the mountain goats & deftones ! 

🔶 LARGE ORANGE DIAMOND — does your oc know cpr? do they have any other medical expertise?

keme knows cpr. i think he would've taken a class at some point bc he was interested & bc it might help save someone while he was working. 

his other medical expertise is extended towards the first aid & care of ranch animals & the like. however, he knows how to staunch a wound & is pretty calm around blood & gore. 

🐷 PIG FACE — what is your oc's favorite animal?

HORSES <3 KEME IS THE ALL-TIME HORSE GIRL <3

🤍 WHITE HEART — what are three of your oc's neutral/questionable traits?

trying to recall some of keme's more neutral/questionable traits has been SO difficult bc i am SOOO in love with him & even if he is so aloof & unforthcoming to the point that it will make you wanna rip your hair out, it only makes me wanna twirl my hair at him more. im obsessed. 

on that note, & a bit contrary to those two aforementioned traits of his, keme savors experiences, especially new ones: going to new places, participating in new activities, meeting new people. the latter is something he especially likes to savor and thus, can come on a little strong, even while remaining his strange sort of… aloof, distant, etc. he's kind of… intense. the sort of person to hold eye contact through your entire conversation, speak at a level volume & ask an immense amount of questions. & like, this isnt really… QUESTIONABLE, but i think it's neutral, not necessarily positive or negative bc i think for some people that could be. strange, or uncomfortable, while others that could be a good indication that he's interested in what they have to say (he is.) or who they are. 

😞 DISAPPOINTED FACE — does your oc attract others, or do they tend to be left alone?

keme attracts others rather easily, though, he is rather emotionally distant towards strangers & most acquaintances, & for some people that wards them off, while others just think he's even MORE attractive for it. 

🤒 FACE WITH THERMOMETER — does your oc get sick easily?

no. he never gets sick. if he ever were to become sick, it would have to be by something otherworldly & it would hit him like a ton of bricks bc he's never had the chance to really. like experience it for himself. (DONT MIND ME. JUST. IMAGINING MAKING HIM SOUP & BRUSHING HIS HAIR AWAY FROM HIS FACE & &&-)

[twin-wolves-123]

long miserable textpost

i am genuinely so tired of my own life

it's a little hard to articulate everything exactly as im feeling but i guess we'll start with what spurred this

the other week, i failed the only final round job interview i've been able to get all semester

big deal

but, for me, it kind of was

4th year cs student here. the tech job market is, apparently, not as great as it was pre-2023. if you've been keeping up with certain news, the repeated rounds of layoffs at every big tech firm is a symptom of this. I'm not the best person to explain the entire thing because frankly I never fully understood it myself while it was happening nor took the time to learn every aspect of it, but to my knowledge the biggest contributing factor was the pandemic. When everything got locked down and life in general became way more remote and online, this actually led to lots of tech companies expanding very quickly to keep up with the sudden increase in needs for the services and technologies that enabled this or benefited from this. The pandemic overhiring combined with the fact that the tech sector for years had been slowly oversaturating itself with graduates/prospective laborers/anyone else looking to get into it in large part due to being an industry with anomalous growth also for years has led to waves of layoffs and much increased difficulty in getting hired to begin with in the past couple of years, where the unprecedented growth of the pandemic has been replaced by decreased needs as life slowly turned back to normal. The AI/ML sector, what with ChatGPT and its derivatives and whatnot, is a little bit of an exception here, but has actually only made it worse for tech workers not going into AI or lacking experience with it. (im not trying to justify or defend my own lack of skill here with it, and im aware that this is just one example of something that is actually quite normal in an industry. just pointing out that, being the hot new thing that may or may not fizzle out sooner or later, not having it right now is considered a strike against you for a lot of positions, especially ones that generative AI itself or the usage of it is poised to replace)

But, it's not that bad. Sure, lots of people are struggling but lots of people are thriving! Almost all (and, in fact, maybe all. I fucking hate talking about this with people which is why i try not to bring it up every conversation, but this means i don't actually know for sure how it is for a couple of people) of my cs friends in my year at uni have managed to secure jobs, some being through intern return offers and some by interviewing in traditionally (and for a lot of them, I'm not surprised. A lot of them are people who I know for a fact are just way better at this than me and have way more impressive resumes e.g. been doing this for longer than me, interned at more prestigious companies, etc). I have not been as fortunate.

The company I interned at for two summers did not give a return job offer. Unbeknownst to me and a lot of my fellow interns, our office froze hiring very early on in the process this year (which we found out through other people), in large part due to overhiring from the intern pool last year where almost every intern secured an offer. Out of the group of 5-6 people I befriended, none of us made it through before the freeze happened, and instead of offering us a position at another office that we didn't specify, we simply all got rejected. Which was a pretty surprising kick in the dick considering the process in past years had more or less been guaranteed.

the thing is, i actually kind of can't stand cs. i was pretty neutral toward it at the beginning of university and declared my major due to not really having an interest in anything else, either, but 3.5 years of uni later, i hate it. Whether it's burnout or i do genuinely just detest it, haven't figured out yet. But I only have one semester left til graduation and it's a little late to pivot.

I didn't actually know what it entailed. And, at this point, I'm not sure if I was capable of it to begin with. I wasn't prepared to spend most of my time padding my resume with skills and projects. I mean, I handled class during the semesters and I interned during summer break. I don't know where other people found the time to learn 10 different development technologies or build applications front to back. The reason I stomached cs for so long was actually due to an interest in game development, and while I've made a couple of projects there, it's not the same kind of experience as making a web or mobile app, nor are most game companies even hiring entry-level developers right now. And the company I interned at is not particularly high ranking or well regarded in terms of tech.

So, my resume is not the strongest. Which, yeah. Skill issue. But I don't know how I'm supposed to better it if I can't get more experience. I've spent the entire semester filling out job apps. The majority of which either result in ghosting or rejection, and the majority of ones I do get past the resume screening for I don't pass the online assessment for. Not for lack of trying or lack of practicing. This interview was with the only company out of a couple hundred that passed me for the initial behavioral as well as the online assessment. So yeah, it was kind of the only thing I had going for me. And the technical round really took me by surprise. I'd gone in expecting algorithmic problems and those were what I'd spent the past week preparing for, but it started out more like a behavioral than a problem-solving one (which to my knowledge is a little more typical). the dude asked me questions about something i'd worked on while i interned as well as a basic, Java-fundamental question that i didn't remember the answer to. it'd been a while since I'd even used Java. during this section, I kind of just blanked and froze up. I rambled and talked in circles about the thing I worked on (which wasn't actually that big or impressive to begin with) and made up an answer to the Java question which was incorrect. Needless to say, I failed.

The interviewer thought i wasn't concise. Which was correct. I probably should've been a little more prepared for a deeper interrogation into my resume and I should've brushed up more on fundamentals (that really made me want to kick myself, because it wasn't even a hard question. it wasn't a programming/algorithms problem. it was something you talk about early on in a very early class and I wanted to fucking die for forgetting it).

So I'm back to having no prospective interviews and I essentially have one semester left to get hired. And moving back home after graduation is not really an option. Living at home unemployed with my dad is probably the quickest way to drive me to kill myself. Not going to get into all the details there. But with cost of living inexorably rising in lovely corporate America, it's a hell of a lot of pressure to find a job that I can both actually land as well as support myself on. My sister offered me to let me move in with her while I job hunt if I can't get one, but the reasons I don't want to do that are two-fold. One, I don't want to burden her like that because she is the last fucking person who deserves it. Two, every day would be another reminder that I couldn't fucking do it while other people could. While this is probably the option I'll take should I need it, obviously I'd prefer to not have to.

And I've spent most of this semester pretty miserable! This is nothing new, but I've done a pretty shit job making friends at uni. These days, most social events I go to are those of my dance group. And while they're nice, it's hard to actually be close with that many people in a big org. Outside of the couple of friends I was close with who convinced me to join, the people that I did become close friends with have all already graduated. And out of those couple of friends in my year, one of them is graduating early a semester and won't be around for our final semester. I've fallen out of touch with a lot of people in my own year over the course of uni, but the one that hurts the most is someone i actually considered one of my best friends I'd ever had. We used to hang out and talk all the time last year, but he got a lot more distant with me this semester and every time I asked to he'd give an excuse or was busy or something, and these days we barely talk at all.

I myself have withdrawn from a couple of people as well this semester, but mainly with people I wasn't really that close to (ie. i was definitely not high up on their list of friends, i was usually more someone they'd ask to hang out with when their other plans fell through). I spend a lot more time playing online games with some friends from high school and a couple of uni alumni friends (one of whom I met through dance), but even that hasn't really happened lately since one of my high school friends went on a trip visiting extended family and the dance friend went on a trip visiting a friend, so it's been really fucking lonely these past couple of weeks especially.

I don't know. on top of being feeling frustrated, inadequate, and lonely, I'm so fucking bitter. I was miserable in high school and I'm miserable now. Working to get into this uni was fucking grueling. Obviously I didn't fucking enjoy studying my ass off for AP exams, SATs and late nights practicing an instrument for auditions that I don't even play anymore but kept competing on for the sake of extracurriculars that would bolster my college apps. yeah it's not harvard nor is it a tech industry feeder like carnegie mellon but it's ranked high enough to the point where now that I'm here I'm at the bottom of the pack I guess. I'm angry that I believed growing up that this would be worth it. Not that I had anyone else to listen to but my parents, but. A better uni means better opportunities! College will be the best years of your life! CS will be easy to find a job for! None of which actually turned out to be true. I'm eating shit in the job hunt and college itself was fucking grueling. Good friends were not something I even had until the tail end of freshman year. Scrambling for an internship was also fucking miserable on top of classes that I didn't even enjoy taking. Not that I even know what I would've gone into outside of cs, but god damn. I don't really have any other skills I can use to get a job, either. And if these are supposed to be the best years of my life, I can say wholeheartedly I don't even want to see the rest of it.

I don't know. I wanted so badly to believe it when "things would get better". it wasn't true getting into uni, it's not true now, the only thing that's changed is things just suck in a different way because as it turns out, i've spent this whole time being spoon fed a pile of empty promises. thank you to anyone who reads this. i don't really expect solutions or posting this to even really help. this was just meant to be cathartic. but regardless, to whomever does take the time to go through it, I appreciate it.

[mybiasisexo]

Entangled - Part 9

Pairing: Chanyeol x f.Reader Chapter Warnings: Alcohol Consumption | Language take a shot whenever you see the f word smh Word Count: 8.3k Author Notes: So...Im sorry 😬? But aye, what's a story without a beach chapter, am I right?? I can't believe how close we are to the finish line. I think we have 3 chapters left ??? give or take. wooow will I actually finish a story for the first time in my life?? (like a real one not just a lil scenario haha). Sorry for the late update, I was gonna post on yeols bday but thought this wasnt a great present lmfaooo As always, dont be shy with letting me know your thoughts on the chapter, a def will need to know how you all feel at the end of this one 😮‍💨. Thank you to everybody still rocking with the story, it means sooo much to me 💕 and give our boy chanyeol some loooove MWAH!!!

It doesn’t take Seulgi and you long to change and head down to the beach. Being able to see the guys from up in your room, you join them quickly.

They got their hands on a grill somehow, and you find Jongdae already cooking on it, beer in one hand.

“Already looking like a dad, Dae,” Seulgi announces in greeting, taking in his unbuttoned green Hawaiian shirt, oversized sunglasses, and fisherman’s hat. He grins brightly and rewards her with a fresh piece of juicy meat.   

Beside Jongdae and the grill sits a long table covered with food, drinks, and a bluetooth speaker currently playing chill R&B. A little further behind him is a blue canopy to block the blazing sun from your sensitive skin, chairs littered underneath it.

This area of the beach is privately owned, for hotel residents only. Despite how large the hotel is, only a few other families dot the shore, all far enough away that your little party is practically secluded.

You drop your bag onto a chair and dig into it, pulling out a bottle of sunscreen. You rub it into any skin of yours exposed before walking out of the canopy, holding it up for everyone to see. “Who needs some?”

Sehun and Jongin come running towards you, both only wearing swim trunks. You suck your teeth, their backs are probably already screaming at them.

Jongin gets to you first. You turn him around and begin to apply the protective lotion onto his back, where it will be hard for him to reach.

“We missed you last night,” he says.

“I know,” you reply. For some reason, your throat constricts, dragging your voice down to a deep mumble. “I’m sorry for leaving. I just….”

“I understand,” he says, patting one of your hands. Throwing his head back, he tosses you a sweet grin. You return his smile before handing him the bottle so that he can cover the rest of himself.

With Jongin preoccupied, Sehun makes his way over, already trying to get a read on you. He understands the language of your body enough to fill in blanks you don’t even know are empty.

“Good afternoon,” you greet, keeping your voice neutral. 

“He’s in the water,” is his reply.

“Who?” Damn this man. He’s good.

He scoffs. “Please, you’ve been scanning the area non stop since you’ve arrived. Baekhyun had to drag him out as soon as he got here. He was getting pretty worked up about something. I’m assuming it was the fact you weren’t here.”

“Weird,” is your convincing response. You push his arm, leading him to turn around so that you can attempt to save him from skin cancer.

“Weird, indeed.” Despite not being able to see you, his curious gaze can still be felt. “Makes me wonder what happened after you left the reception.”

“Not something I really want to talk about.” You wince, knowing you’ve slipped up and said too much. The simple sentence bares a lot to unpack, and Sehun loves other people’s dirty laundry.

But, in Sehun fashion, he doesn’t push. It’s one thing you love about him. Instead, he faces you and grabs the sunscreen, silently lotioning the rest of his body. When he’s done he reaches over to you, pulling at the black kimono you had meticulously put on over your swimsuit, to return the favor.

“Sehun!”

He yanks the thin fabric and it falls off your shoulders. You both freeze. He only lifts an eyebrow as his eyes rake down the expansion of your exposed skin littered in harsh dark bruises. His gaze lingers for an uncomfortably long time. You want to pull away, but find yourself paralyzed, a mouse caught in the stare of a hungry snake. 

“Stop staring.”

The voice is gruff. A wet hand pulls at your arm, ripping the kimono from Sehun’s frozen hand. You stumble backwards until you hit a chill wetness that makes you hiss as it soaks into your back. Sehun’s eyes are the only thing to move as they shift to the person protectively hovering behind you. His expression is cool, but you catch the way his eyes alight in amusement. Swallowing thickly, you work the courage to see who’s caught his attention….

Chanyeol stops glaring at Sehun long enough to spin you around so that you’re facing each other. With gentle fingers, he fixes your pullover, maneuvering it so that it’s covering your neck, hiding most of the damage. 

He clicks his tongue in dismay. “This won’t do.”

“I have a shirt,” you inform in a small voice. “It doesn’t have a collar though.”

“One second.” Chanyeol walks away, no longer blocking the radiant view of crashing teal waves, powdery sand, and miles of blue sky. White clouds speckle the troposphere, the negative image of your neck and chest. Off to your right, Sehun still stands, a glorious statue made of pale marble.

You can’t bring yourself to acknowledge his presence. 

Chanyeol returns. In his hands is the ugly Hawaiian shirt Jongdae was wearing.

You become aware of the rashguard covering his torso. The collar is high, covering the base of his neck where any hickeys can be hidden, although you can just barely see the start of one peeking out. You curse yourself for not thinking of buying one. 

“May I?” He gently asks. Is that not how he asked to strip you last night? The reminder takes your voice, as does the reserved look in his eyes. He’s testing the water, trying to see where you both stand at the moment. You nod, allowing him access to touch you, lost in his grim expression.

Gently, ever so gently, his fingers brush over your shoulders, sneaking under the thin garment. You battle a shiver as he lifts the back of his hands, knocking the fabric off with his knuckles. You roll back your shoulders, helping him make the cover cascade onto the sand below.

Chanyeol’s bright eyes wander over your flesh. He grunts in satisfaction at the sight of the marks he’s made, pride coloring his features. And you’re transfixed, gulping back saliva flooding your mouth like high tide. Your breathing grows erratic, fingers itching to touch him in return. Apparently that tension hasn’t fully gone away. Looks like you’ll be attracted to him for life.

You want to say something, want to voice an excuse to get your hands on him, but a sharp whistle cuts through the air before you can speak, breaking the spell Chanyeol has you falling under. You blink away your thirst, remembering where you are, of the audience you have.

“Looks like you got into some fun last night!” Jongdae, the culprit of the whistle, points out in a yell. 

You’re now hyper aware of all your friends. Baekhyun, who you’re just now noticing, sits in the shallow part of the water where the waves roughly push him, dressed identically to Chanyeol. He’s looking in your general direction, squinting against the sun to see what all the commotion is about. Seulgi stands beside Jongdae. She’s in the middle of applying sunscreen, one of her legs lifted like a flamingo. She doesn’t have to say anything for you to hear her ‘oh shit’, wobbling as she balances on that one leg. Sehun is still staring right next to you, but the whistle was able to jolt him back from stone. Then there is Jongin, who jogs back to where everyone is congregated to curiously see what is going on.

Being the only one moving, your head spins over to him, seeing how his mouth slacks and his eyes widen in shock.

“What happened?” He asks, concerned.

Embarrassed, you snatch the shirt out of Chanyeol’s grip, rushing to put it on so that everyone will stop staring at you like you just told them you murdered someone.

“Mind your business,” you snap. You regret it instantly when Jongin’s face falls like a kicked puppy. It can’t be helped, you have a tendency to lash out when embarrassed.

“Dae! The meat!””

Gratefully, a hard gust of wind blows in, lifting the aluminum foil with the cooking meat off the grill, falling onto the sand.

That distracts everyone from you. You thank a higher power.

Jongdae stares forlornly at the meat, watching sand coat it like seasoning. 

“What are you doing!” Baekhyun yelps, rushing to his feet. “Pick it up!”

That pulls Jongdae out of whatever trance he was in and he lurches forward, grabbing the hot foil and tossing it onto the end of the table. He hisses and shakes his hands, sticking a reddening thumb into his mouth.

Baekhyun rushes over to the table for quality control and his shoulders slump at the damage.

“This batch is no good.”

“Way to go, Jongdae,” Chanyeol chides. He then peeks over to you, surreptitiously checking your reaction.

“Shut it!” Jongdae snaps back.

Seeing a good opportunity to escape, you go to make your way over to Seulgi. Chanyeol is not having that, and you only get one step in before he’s snatching your wrist, holding you in place in front of him.

“Don’t go,” he begs under his breath.

You refuse to look up at him, knowing that whatever expression he currently wears will kill what little resolve you have. You know you need to discuss what happened the night before, and why he woke up alone this morning, but you hate confrontation and don't want to have this conversation right at this moment. To be honest, you just want to relax for a bit. Is that so wrong?

You remain silent, not really sure what to say to get him off your back for the time being.

“Just talk to me,” he urges. “You were gone when I woke up, and….”

He falls silent, and you can’t resist the temptation any longer. You break and lift your chin, sucking in a breath at what greets you. It’s that same tortured expression from yesterday. Nerves, apprehension, and defeat swim in his opaque orbs, purple his lips. And you know you can no longer prolong with conversation. He’s hurting. You’re hurting him, and it’s not fair to keep tormenting him like this.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asks dejectedly, intently searching you for the answer. 

You open your mouth to answer him. To tell him no, he did nothing wrong, but then Seulgi is calling your name and running up to you. She grabs the arm Chanyeol isn’t holding. “Let’s get in the water. It’s hot.”

She completely ignores Chanyeol as she heads for the shore, dragging you with her.

“I’m sorry,” is all you’re able to get out before you’re pulled completely from his gentle touch. He releases your wrist without a fight, letting you retreat glumly.

“I’m going to have to talk to him eventually,” you tell Seulgi, rolling your eyes. You hit the water and hiss from the shock of the freezing temperature.

“You two don’t get much talking done when you’re together,” she answers, breathless from the cold of the water.

Ignoring–and also maybe even embracing–the pain from the waves chilling your warm skin, you both run until you’re thigh deep and then dive right in, swimming deeper into the abyss. 

You float on your back and try to focus on the paradise you’re in, instead of the devastated look in Chanyeol’s eyes. To no avail.

There’s some crashing noises that pull you upright to see Baekhyun running in to join Seulgi and you.

When he’s close, he jumps onto Seulgi, pulling her under water. Not one to miss an opportunity, you hop onto his back. The three of you break the surface, sputtering for air.

You stay secured around Baekhyun as you all catch your breaths. 

“What the hell,” Seulgi coughs, splashing him in the face. He laughs, but chokes on the sea salt, and you squeal when you’re caught in her attack.

Letting go of Baekhyun, you swim back around so that Seulgi and you are turned towards the shore with him facing you both.

“Is he still sulking?” He asks.

You dare a glance over to where Chanyeol is, refusing to acknowledge how quickly you’re able to seek him out. He’s in the chair you had claimed, watching the water with a sullen pout as he rests his chin in his hand.

“Oh yeah,” Seulgi answers. “The clouds around him are turning gray, he’s in such a mood.”

“He wouldn’t be like that if you’d stop avoiding him, you know?”

“I’m not avoiding him,” you say. “We just spoke.”

Baekhyun snorts. “Yeah and I can tell you’re both on the same page. Nice talk.”

He throws you a sarcastic thumbs up, you stick your tongue out at him.

He grows solemn. “Please, say something to him. The poor man is beating himself up right now.”

You sink further into the water, dipping in until your mouth is submerged, and run a hand over the tiny waves bobbing you. 

Beside you, Seulgi sighs. “I may have ruined their talk.”

Baekhyun throws his head back and groans. “You’re killing me, Smalls.”

“How was I supposed to know?” She asks. “It looked like they were about to ditch us and fuck again. I’m just trying to help her not make another decision she’s going to instantly regret.”

“Whatever happens between them is their business, Seulgi,” Baekhyun says, sounding uncharacteristically reasonable. “You have to let them work through it their way.”

You wave your hand above your head like a needy sim. “I’m right here, you know?”

Seulgi pouts like a chastised child. “You’re right.”

Both Baekhyun and you spin your heads towards her in surprise.

“Did you just say I’m right?” Baekhyun asks. His shock quickly morphs into cockiness, if the grin splitting his face is any indicator.

She’s now the one to groan. “I will not be repeating myself.”

“I’ll cherish the moment for the rest of my life.” Baekhyun turns to you and his smile softens. “Talk to him soon. He’s getting annoying.”

“I will. I promise.” You assure. “Thank you, Hyunnie, for doing this. I know it isn’t easy for you either, being in the middle like this. I appreciate it.”

He shrugs. “You’re both my friends. I want to see you happy. I just hope you can work it out.”

Jongin and Jongdae come barrelling towards your group. As soon as you see your sweet friend, you can’t help but hold your arms out for him.

“Nini!” You cry. He laughs and falls into your embrace, tackling you back into the depths of the sea. When you both emerge, you apologize for yelling at him.

“You’re forgiven,” he says, never taking anything to heart. “But I was surprised. I didn’t expect to see all your bruises. It looks like you got beat up.”

You whine his name. “You’re making it worse.”

“Hey, they do say that weddings are the best place to pick up chicks,” Jongdae says. “Well, I guess dudes for you. Unless….”

He gives you a wicked smirk and you splash him.

“Anyway, good on you for getting some. You deserve it.”

“Thanks, Jongdae,” you say dryly, rolling your eyes. “Also, my bad on the shirt. I forgot I was wearing it before I got in here.”

He takes notice of his button down floating around you and gasps dramatically. “You better wash it before you give it back. It was expensive.”

You look at him skeptically. “This tourist shirt?”

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to have those two cook the meat?” Baekhyun asks, putting your incoming argument with Jongdae to a halt. All five of you turn to the last people still on dry land. The tall boys stand over the grill, Chanyeol with the tongs in his hand. His eyebrows are scrunched as he listens to Sehun adamantly speaking, nodding and answering occasionally. it’s a deep conversation you don’t want any part of.

Jongdae shrugs. “I need a break. It’s hot.”

You all play in the water for some time. Once hunger becomes too great to ignore, you swim back to the beach. Immediately, you crack open a cold beer, nearly moaning when it hits your belly. Now this is what you need. You’ve been sober far too long.

Jongdae wasn’t lying about the heat. Even under the canopy, you can’t escape the sun’s harsh rays. You succumb to the weather and peel off Jongdae’s now dry shirt, not caring anymore if the other’s see your marks, it’s already old news.

Slowly, you all make your way to the table. it’s out in the open and everyone is a bit hesitant to sit out there, but that’s where the food resides. Both Baekhyun and Chanyeol take off their shirts, overwhelmed by the temperature.

“Holy shit, Yeol,” you hear Jongdae say. “What happened to you?”

Everyone glances over to the tall man and your heart sinks at the sight of his exposed back. It’s hard to miss the rows of scratches you carved down his shoulder blades, red and angry.

At the mention of his name, Chanyeol turns around, revealing his neck, shoulders, and chest that look exactly like yours. Actually, his marks are deeper, darker. You were really letting him have it. In your defense, he did encourage you to do your worst, so it is hard for you to find any sympathy to send to the giant.

A loaded silence fills the area as he locks eyes with you. You sigh. That’s enough of an answer for everyone.

Giving up, you chug your beer empty as the extra heat of everyone’s attention bounces back and forth between you both, connecting the purple and blue dots.

“No way….” Jongin’s fingers trace the trail of his eyes. “Did you two…?”

You close your eyes in dismay. You’re going to hear it now.

“Wait a damn minute!” Jongdae’s loud ass voice echoes over the speaker. “You mean to tell me Chanyeol was the one who left those hickeys on you!?”

He gives you an impressed grin. “You naughty girl.”

You simply sink lower into your chair.

“Are you guys together now?” Jongin asks, bouncing on his toes in giddy excitement.

“I mean….” Chanyeol searches you out in hopes you’ll answer that question for him as well.

The attention has you awkwardly laughing, readjusting yourself so that you’re sitting properly again. 

“Please, you guys,” you say, laughter coating every consonant. “It’s nothing.”

Chanyeol’s head tilts at that, eyes fluttering in confusion. “What do you mean ‘nothing’?”

Your heart sinks as you realize you’ve made matters much worse. Chanyeol’s getting worked up now, and the last thing you want is to fight in front of everybody.

“I just mean it’s not a big deal.”

If your first sentence was you putting your foot in your mouth, this one is the whole damn leg.

“Not a big deal?” He repeats skeptically. He turns so that he’s properly looking at you, making sure he’s understanding correctly. “You think us having sex is ‘not a big deal’?”

“Okay,” Jongdae drawls. “Not together then.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you begin to explain, really wishing this conversation wasn’t happening like this. “It was a big deal to me, okay? But they shouldn’t expect more because of it.”

“Like us getting back together?” He continues to question in a monotonous tone. “You’re saying that they shouldn’t get their hopes up about us getting back together just because we had sex.”

“Exactly!” You clap, glad he understands.

“So that wasn’t us getting back together?”

His disappointment is hard to disguise, and it makes you feel bad. Again you’re reminded that if you’d just talked before this wouldn’t be happening. You sigh and prepare yourself to explain where you’re coming from.

“Chanyeol–”

“Meat’s getting cold,” Sehun interrupts, ending the real conversation before it can start. You’re grateful for it, still not mentally prepared to break Chanyeol’s heart any further, although it seems you may be past that point. Chanyeol’s jaw is tense, honestly everything about him is tense as he nods his head like he finally understands something before stomping over to the table, sitting at the end furthest from the canopy. He grabs a beer, cracking it open and guzzling it down rather aggressively. 

Everyone else reluctantly takes Chanyeol’s lead. When Baekhyun passes you, he grimaces, politely letting you know that you messed up. Sehun is the last to walk past. He stops and reaches a hand out for you to grab. You sigh before taking it, allowing him to pull you up.

“The last thing I want right now is a lecture,” you tell him.

“I’m just checking on you,” he assures. “You good?”

You stare at him. ‘Do I look like I’m good’ written all over your face and he grins, gaining the reaction he wanted. It’s gone as quick as it comes, an air of seriousness taking over.

“I thought we talked about this.” He starts. 

You point a finger at him. “Lecture.”

He purses his lips and lets his attention wander to the table. Everyone is trying their best to lighten the mood. You look also and are surprised to see Seulgi attempt to make small talk with Chanyeol, although he doesn’t appear that interested in the conversation.

“Okay, no lecture, but let me say one thing.” You groan. “Don’t leave this island with unfinished business. That’s only going to hurt you both more.”

You’re still taking in the table as he speaks, and Chanyeol must feel it because he’s looking back at you. He holds your stare for a few seconds, then catches himself and breaks the contact. It’s selfish, but you’re comforted by the familiar longing still lingering there.

You nod at Sehun’s words, turning back to him. “Yeah. Got it.”

He doesn’t believe you and his expression says as much.

“Hey! Hurry up and grab a plate!” Jongin orders you both. 

Sehun pats your arm and heads over to the table, you follow a few steps behind. The food is delicious and the alcohol starts flowing. Soon the sun starts its slow descent, and with full bellies, you all relax more. At this moment, you can’t help but to miss Junmyeon. He’s always the one taking pictures, annoying everyone by forcing you all to pose for what feels like hundreds of photos. Sehun, his successor, makes sure to take as many candids and selfies as he can. You find it easy to smile whenever the camera is focused on you, even when Chanyeol is also in the frame.

Speaking of Chanyeol, the beer, good food, and friendship seems to be working in lifting his spirits. His loud voice carries throughout the beach, and you catch his boisterous laugh from time to time. You’re relieved to know that you haven’t completely ruined this trip for him. 

By this point, the sky is a lovely pink and orange, and you’re a bit tipsy. You close your eyes and sway to the beat of whatever song is playing, snapping along. Someone holds your hand, causing your eyes to spring open to see Jongin gently urging you out of your seat. You allow him to drag you into a clear patch of sand near the waves. You start dancing with him, connected hands swinging between you both as you reluctantly laugh. Jongin is your designated dance partner. He’s one of the better dancers of your group, and you’re shy. He got into the habit of getting you out onto the dancefloor to loosen you up in college. Now is no different. You both roll your bodies and sway your hips to the beat, encouraging each other. The longer you dance, the closer you get, until your forehead rests on his collarbone, arms wrap around each other’s waists, and Jongin’s cheek presses atop your head.

“Are you okay?” He softly asks.

His question causes your vision to blur. You stare unseeingly into the now gray sea, waves crashing urgently and tighten your hold around his torso.

“I don’t think so,” you confess. 

“I don’t understand,” he says, sounding both confused and frustrated. “You both love each other, right? Why fight?”

“It’s not that simple, Nini. I wish it was, but….” You shake your head, not really knowing how to finish the sentence.

“Is it because of her?” He presses.

You close your eyes at the reminder of Yerim, another person your actions will hurt, and she’s yet to find out of your betrayal.

“Partially,” you admit.

Jongin rubs your back. “It'll work out. As long as you know what you want.”

You wipe your face and pull back to smile up at him, clipping his chin affectionately.

“Now that we’ve had that talk,” you say. “Let’s dance! We’re on vacation! I need to feel like it!”

He chuckles and spins you around so that your back is pressed against his torso.

“Turn the music up!” He orders. Whoever is in charge of the tunes obliges and you’re pleased when a song you can grind to comes on. You throw your arms up into the air and instantly lose yourself to the music, dancing back on Jongin who matches your moves easily.

Not really paying attention to your surroundings, you fail to notice someone joining your little party, but they make themselves known by gripping your arms, ripping you out of Jongin’s hold.

“What the–”

For the second time today, Chanyeol has pulled you away from someone. His hands are wrapped so tightly around your forearms, you wince from the pain. He doesn’t catch your discomfort, too busy giving Jongin the fiercest stare you’ve ever seen.

“Get the fuck off of her!” He snarls, dragging you even closer to him so that your face is pressed against his naked heaving chest.

You lean back and attempt to stare him down, but all you see is his sharp jaw.

“We’re just dancing,” you explain defensively.

That makes him look down at you, and you nearly gulp from the fury reflecting in his black orbs.

“That’s not how you ‘just dance’ with someone!”

That’s when you notice the way his words slightly blend together, notice how unsteady he is on his feet.

“You’re drunk,” you point out disappointedly. Remembering how good that did you both the last time he was under the influence.

He chuckles darkly at that. “So are you.”

Ugh, you aren’t anywhere near as faded as he currently is. You attempt to free yourself from him, but he’s holding onto you too tightly to break. There is no escape.

“Chanyeol, Bro, I swear that’s all we were doing,” Jongin calmly reassures.

“Don’t call me ‘bro’,” Chanyeol hisses. “You’ve always been like this, Jongin. You were always touching her! Don’t think I never noticed.”

“She’s my friend,” he says slowly, carefully, as if he’s speaking to a child.

“And she was my fiance!” Chanyeol all but roars. “But that never stopped you!”

You glance around. His outburst draws everyone’s attention and they watch the three of you curiously. Baekhyun and Sehun start to get up from their seats, probably intending to de-escalate the situation, but you don’t want to get anybody else involved. This is between Chanyeol and you. What is happening now is the consequence of you stalling the ‘what are we’ conversation you should’ve had the night before.

“Leave him alone, Yeol,” you mutter. “He’s not the one you’re mad at. It’s me.”

He doesn’t even spare you a glance, too focused on the man behind you. “Why won’t he answer me then? I’m right, aren’t I?”

“I promise I–”

Before Jongin can finish defending himself, you cut him off by putting your hands on Chanyeol’s chest, throwing your weight to shove him. In any other circumstance, he wouldn’t have budged, but his inebriation works in your favor, making him stumble a few steps. Unfortunately, he takes you with him, and you fall forward. He lets go of your arms to catch you by the waist, steadying you both.

“You okay?” He asks with worry.

“Yeah,” you huff. You pat his shoulder. “Why don’t we go for a walk?”

There’s a boardwalk a few meters away that looks deserted, that is probably the best place to have this discussion. Not waiting for an answer, you easily break his hold and start walking towards it. Chanyeol says something to Jongin you can’t catch over the sound of the sea, but it sounds smug enough that you sigh deeply in dismay. You’ll apologize to Jongin tomorrow, you promise to yourself.

When you pass the table, you lock eyes with both Baekhyun and Sehun.

“It’s okay,” you assure them, not even sure if you believe it. It’s enough for them, they stand down and nod, trusting you.

The journey is silent. The sun has disappeared completely by the time you’re on the worn wood, enveloping you in an almost foreboding darkness. The crashing of waves are intense beneath you, doing nothing to soothe your nerves. When you reach the end of the walk, you turn around to the man you know was following you the whole time.

He’s on you before you can even speak. His mouth moves roughly against yours, urgent and desperate. His frustration is felt, as is his still present affection. You fall easily into his kiss, giving into him as naturally as you always have. Your hands curl around his neck, pulling him closer. He cups your face, the palms of his hands squishing your cheeks, puckering your lips more for him to devour. He walks you backwards, until your bare back hits the splintered wood of the banister. it digs into your skin, making you whimper, but it’s not enough pain to distract you from the punishing pressure of Chanyeol’s lips.

The groan he lets out in response is tortured, long fingers desperately begin pulling at the band of your swimsuit bottoms, eager to feel all of you again. 

In sync, your mouths fall open, tongues colliding and lewdly twirling together. God. Fuck. You want him. You want him so bad it’s driving you crazy. You’re going to fuck him again. You’re going to fuck him right here on this damn boardwalk, space be damned–

But, that’s exactly the problem, isn’t it?

“Stop,” you gasp between kisses.

He hums before tilting his head to kiss you even deeper. Those wandering hands of his slide down to squeeze your ass. You shutter and press yourself more against him, slipping your arms fully around his neck to drag him lower so that he’s curved over you. A sheen of sweat the only thing between your boiling bodies.

Still, you can’t bring yourself to fall back completely into the make out session. Disappointment floods you. Seulgi is right, the two of you can’t be alone for even a second without falling into this toxic habit.

Now annoyed with how weak you are, you finally muster the strength to shove Chanyeol back, officially breaking the kiss.

With much needed space between you, you feel the fog of lust begin to clear and can think better. Chanyeol doesn’t say anything or make a move to resume what you interrupted. No. He just stands there, watching you with an expression you find hard to read as you both attempt to catch your heaving breaths. 

“What?” He finally asks, voice hoarse and deeper than hell. “You don’t want me anymore, Mel?”

There’s no sorrow, none of the longing or anger he’s shown throughout the day, which is surprising. It’s almost as if he knew this was how the night was going to go. Like he knew you were going to push him away.

“That….” You swallow thickly. “That’s not it.”

“Then what’s the problem?” He asks, taking a step towards you. You try to counter it, but that leads to more wood stabbing you. You’re sure some break the skin. He takes another step and now he’s directly in front of you, a mere breath away. He lowers his head to be more level with yours, giving you a close up view of his wound up fury.

“The problem,” you nearly stutter, overwhelmed by the hostility now coming off of him in waves. He’s never directed his anger towards you–the situation maybe, but never you–it’s intimidating and scary. You lick your dry lips, trying to find your voice, and he watches detachedly. “My problem is the opposite, Chanyeol. I still very much do.”

“That doesn’t seem like a problem to me.”

“Look at us!” You say. “We can’t be alone for five seconds without being all over each other! Last night was not supposed to happen the way it did! We weren’t supposed to sleep together!”

“But we did,” he snarls through clenched teeth. “And that means something, whether you want it to or not!”

“All that it means to me is we need space. This is too much for me, Yeol. We need time apart to figure out what the hell we actually want.”

“What is too much for you?” He asks, sounding exasperated. “The way I feel about you? The way you still feel about me? What is there to figure out? We still want each other, nothing else matters!”

“We still want each other physically!” You clarify. “I can agree with that, but the longer we’re together, the more I think that’s all we want!” 

“Of course not!” He finally yells. You flinch from the volume and that makes him catch himself. He huffs out a breath before repeating in a much gentler tone, “of course not.”  

He grabs one of your hands, thumb caressing your knuckles. “You are way more than that. You always have been. This is more than physical to me.”

Everything inside of you is screaming to believe him, and he himself is asking for that. For you to have faith in this, and to give it a chance. 

“Then why didn’t you say it back?” 

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he stares at the forming tears in your eyes and the slight wobble of your lips in confusion. He searches for the context to your question. It takes a minute, but then his eyes widen in realization and his mouth falls open, a slight ‘oh’ leaving before he’s snapping it back shut. The look he gives you after that is something akin to pity.

And there is your answer. You pull your hand out of his grasp, using it to wipe away the tears that slipped past your waterline. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

He scrambles in alarm from your withdrawal. “Can you please stop saying shit like that?”

“Why?” You snap. Your irritation grows with every second he doesn’t give you the answer you desire. “It doesn’t. I didn’t mean it anyways. It just slipped out, so…yeah.”

You fidget nervously and try to make out the waves crashing against the wood underneath you. You’re so focused on that, you miss the way Chanyeol recoils in shock. You also miss the reigniting flames of his dimming anger.

“So when you told me you loved me, you didn’t mean it. Yet, you’re mad at me for not saying it?”

Him saying it out loud makes you cringe in embarrassment. As if he hasn’t done enough, you sense mockery in his tone. When you meet his eye again, the anger is still there, but it’s mostly frustration you notice.

“I’m not mad that you didn’t say it,” you deny.

“Yes you are!” He lets out a humorless laugh. Yeah, he’s definitely frustrated. “Is that what all this is about? Why you left this morning? Look, I’m sorry! It wasn’t because I didn’t feel the same, I was just…preoccupied.”

“Preoccupied with what?” You ask in disbelief.

He gives you a steady look, eyebrows raised in a way to say, ‘you know what’. It takes a minute for you to decipher what he’s alluding to, but then you remember what happened right after your little confession and groan his name, appalled.

“See?” He’s grinning like a madman now, pulling at your arms in an attempt to catch your attention. “That’s all I ever wanted to hear. And once I did, I couldn’t control myself anymore. You telling me you love me made me cum.”

“Be serious right now,” you say, frowning in disgust.

“Oh, I’m very serious right now,” he says, that gleefully large grin still on his face.

You throw him a skeptical look. “You’re smiling and talking about cum. You think this is a joke.”

That makes his smile slowly disappear. He says your name. “I don’t think this is funny. I’m telling you the truth. You want me to prove it to you? Hm? I’ll say it right now. I lo–”

“I don’t want to hear it now!” You interrupt in a shout. “If you had said it then, things might’ve been different, but you didn’t. I don’t care why you didn’t either. That was all the confirmation I needed. We have no idea what we want from this.”

“Here we go again,” he groans, walking a bit away from you.

You jut your jaw at that. “I’m going to repeat myself until you get it through that thick skull. Whatever happened, happened. It’s done. We’re done.”

Chanyeol’s frustration is back with a vengeance. His fingers run through his dark hair, yanking at the strands as he starts pacing in front of you. “How can you say that when you had your tongue down my throat minutes ago? You let me cum inside you! You told me you loved me! And that’s it? There’s mixed signals and then there’s whatever the fuck you’re doing right now.”

“There you go talking about cum again,” you mutter to yourself. Louder, “I’m being realistic! It’s only been three days. Three! And, what? We’re just supposed to pick up right where we left off? Act like the past few years never happened? That’s not how this works, and I doubt that’s healthy. We need more time.”

“I already told you that I’ll always love you, and I meant that. I know you’re scared, Mel. Hell, I’m scared too. You’re right, things are moving fast, but that’s because we still care for each other. I know you still love me. You wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t. This wouldn’t be us pretending we never broke up. This can be us realizing that we’re better together. That we’re even stronger now that we’ve had time to figure out who we are apart. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“It was,” you’re quick to emphasize the past tense. “But I’ve changed a lot since the last time you saw me, Yeol, so stop acting like you know me.”

Something you say catches his attention, and he narrows his eyes suspiciously. “You haven’t changed much.” He says your name. “I still know you, probably better than anybody else here. Just like you still know me.” 

He’s stilled from pacing, and it’s a bit ominous after watching him frantically walk for the past couple minutes. He runs a hand over his face tiredly and lets out a heavy sigh. “So, that’s really what this is about.”

You raise an eyebrow questioningly and he laughs, shaking his head.

“I was hoping it wasn’t, but what you just said…. It all makes sense now.” He’s muttering under his breath, talking to himself.

“What are you going on about?” You ask.

“This morning, when I woke up and you weren’t there, I knew. I didn’t want to believe it, that you would do something like that, but I knew what happened the moment I realized you had left me.”

Your body begins to shake, and it isn’t from the cold. Foreboding chills your spine, causing goosebumps to rise, sharpening once he locks eyes with you, the accusations hard to miss.

“You still hate me.”

His hands curl into tight fists at his sides, trembling–as are his shoulders, his voice. He closes his eyes, taking deep calming breaths you doubt help him much. 

“And now you’re telling me you didn’t mean it when you said you loved me. That you changed since the ‘last time I saw you’. Was that your plan all along? To seduce me? Make me think you still gave a shit so that I’d let you fuck me and then leave? Was last night revenge sex?”

“No,” you gasp, genuinely shocked by his conclusion. “I already told you, it was a lapse of judgment–”

“I’m not playing this fucking game with you!” He shouts. His voice breaks, just like his heart currently does. “You don’t get to hurt me again. You can’t play with my feelings everytime I allow myself to be open with you. Maybe you’re right, Mel. Maybe I don’t know you anymore, because I never thought you could do something this fucking cruel.”

“Me? Cruel?” Your anger flares up. “What the fuck about you? You come here, bring some other girl you care nothing for, and then pretend like we never knew each other! Then proceeded to ignore her the whole time to flirt with me any chance you got!”

“We’re not talking about this trip!” Chanyeol dismisses. “I should have never brought her, I know that now, but that’s not what this is about. This is about the time before that, when you gave me back the engagement ring!”

Sehun mentioned the night before the wedding that you have a baseless grudge against Chanyeol, one that twisted the love you have for him, crossing that thin line over to hate. He was positive you made something up, a ‘lie’ he called it, to keep Chanyeol at arm’s length from your heart in order to protect it. The truth is that Sehun grew cocky. He believed so deeply that you couldn’t keep anything from him, that it was impossible to with the way he can so easily read you, that he never suspected when you did. It was only one thing. One thing you decided to keep to yourself, refusing to confide in even Sehun. The reason? To protect the man in front of you, the same way he protected you.

The last thing you want is to bring it up, but technically, Chanyeol is doing it first.

“Gave it back?” You’re in total disbelief. “You took it back the morning after you slept with me and then completely ghosted like I was some one night stand!”

“That’s what you wanted!” 

“When?” You ask, baffled. “When I invited you over? Or was it in the middle of us having sex?”

He runs a hand roughly through his hair. “Okay, but why did you invite me over?”

“Because I–”

He doesn’t let you finish, his own anger from that day getting the best of him. “Because you wanted to give me the ring back!”

His voice has risen, and it silences you completely. 

“Fuck!” He’s saying your name again, but there isn’t an ounce of affection. “You wanted to return the ring. It was the one thing–the only thing that gave me hope. I told you to keep it, because I knew as long as you still had it, there was still a future for us. But then you called me. It hadn’t even been a year since our separation–because that’s what we were, separated not broken up–and the first time I hear from you it’s to tell me you want to give me back your fucking ring!”

Your head is spinning, attempting to comprehend everything he just admitted, filling in blanks you have been trying to figure out for years now. You hate to admit it, but some things are starting to make sense. 

“So, which was it then?” You question rather calmly. “You were still hurt from when I broke things off, so when I reached out you saw your chance to return the favor? Or was it because you thought that’s why I asked you to come over, so you got upset, slept with me, and left as a big fuck you?”

“Neither,” he reveals, evident disgust from your thought process. “Sleeping with you that night just happened. I didn’t do it with the intention to hurt you.”

“Sounds familiar,” you point out. He pinches the bridge of his nose. It feels like you’re going nowhere. Like you’re speaking in circles. “But okay, fine, say I believe that you didn’t do it to hurt me. Why did you leave?”

“Because I didn’t want what happened that night to become our normal,” he admits. “You knew how I felt about you, and I didn’t want you to take advantage of that–of me. Come on, Mel, you’ve always known the power you have over me. If you had told me that night that all you wanted from me was sex, I’d given that to you. Hell, if you told me right now that’s all you want, I’d give it to you. I’d give you anything. You’re my Melody.” He takes a deep shaky breath. “But I knew that if I reduced myself to that just to keep you, it would destroy me. I didn’t want to lose myself like that. And I don’t ever want to hate you. That’s why I ultimately left. Took the ring–like you told me to–and ran before you could change my mind. That was me setting a boundary for myself. I had to let you go before I allowed you to use and break me.”

Your heart sinks at his explanation. “Do you really think I’d treat you like that?”

“Do you really think I’d make love to you and not mean it?” He counters.

Again, you’re back at square one. Blinking at one another, trying to figure out where you stand in each other’s hearts. With the newfound knowledge of Chanyeol’s thoughts on that infamous day, you look internally. To be honest, his words don’t sway you much. The hurt from that day is still painful. You vividly remember the way your heart shattered when he was nowhere to be found. To add salt to the wound, he had blocked you on everything, so that you had no way to contact him afterwards. Yes, you really did believe he was capable of doing that.

“No matter what your intention was that day,” you start. “The result is still the same.”

Once Chanyeol hears this, you watch him build up a wall, closing you off from him for the first time. Until right now, you believed he wasn’t capable of doing that to you. That it couldn’t be helped or that he felt comfortable enough to let his guard down in your presence. But watching all the vulnerability, all the honesty, all the affection he had for you vanish before your eyes, you realize you have been giving yourself too much credit.

“I guess that makes us even now, right?” He asks bitterly. 

You turn away, partially out of guilt, but also because you can’t stomach the haunted shadow dulling him. He’s right, in a sick way. You both ran away, hurting the other despite the reasoning behind it.

“So, that’s it then?” He asks when you fail to say anything.

“Chanyeol….” You turn back to him and instantly are bombarded with regret. You can so easily fix this. If you really want to, you can tell him that you forgive him for that night, that you truly never meant to hurt him and that the night before meant everything to you. You can walk off this boardwalk hand in hand, laughing with giddiness from falling back in love with your soulmate. Rejoining your friends who would be nothing but ecstatic and supportive of you working through your issues and returning to one another. You can do that. It will only take one simple sentence. 

But you don’t forgive him, and you haven’t really resolved anything. Your new relationship would be built on the foundation of ignorance, avoidance, and lust. You didn’t want that, not if it is the cost of having him back at this moment. You both have some healing to do before jumping into this again, and this conversation proved that. You aren’t ready.

“I–yeah. I think it would be for the best if we end things here.”

“Yeah,” he agrees in defeat. He sniffs and scratches the back of his head. “You’re probably right. There’s not much else I can say to make you stay.”

He takes you in one more time. In his reluctance, it’s as if he’s giving you a chance to change your answer, but you both know you won’t. Guess he does still know you well. He clears his throat and without saying goodbye, walks away. 

He’s about to clear the walk when you’re yelling at him to wait.

He does. He faces you and watches with wide eyes as you run hastily over to him. You stop at a safe distance, close enough to see him under the dim moonlight, but far enough away that you can’t feel the distracting heat of his body. 

He observes you warily, probably wondering how you’re going to break his heart this time. It’s that bit of doubt that made you run. There’s one last thing he needs to know, the one thing he needs to take away from this conversation, if nothing else.

“I don’t hate you.”

It’s the last thing he expected, and his reaction reflects that. His eyes grow glossy and he does his best to blink the unshed tears back, while also fighting the frown weighing the corners of his lips, causing them to tremble. Wordlessly, he reaches out to you, cupping the back of your head, and you let him. You allow him to touch you, to bring you close to him, relishing in his heat against the chilling bite of the ocean’s breeze. He pulls you in and presses a tender lingering kiss onto your forehead.

“Thank you,” he whispers against your skin.

And then he’s gone, taking all the warmth with him.

And you watch, as his fire dims and he blends with the gray of your surroundings before disappearing out of sight.

You pray to god that’s not a metaphor.

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[bookshelfdreams]

#im very neutral on hamilton and enver engaged with the fandom but fwiw i think its also worth to acknowledge what the play is#on a real life level as well#which is a story told by a brown man of color that specifically#tries to tell americas very white history with POC actors and musical elements at the forefront#is it a good idea? is it well executed? idk - tho i lean toward it being more flawed than not#BUT - even setting aside metatextual flaws. hamilton was a POC written play that stars a largely POC cast on broadway which is INFAMOUSLY#racially imbalanced. so its a flawed story that actively elevates the voices of REAL LIFE brown and black actors in a setting that theyve#historically been shut out from#this does NOT exempt it from criticism BUTTT white people shitting on a POC written play that materially benefits real life POC people.....#that shit reeks of performative activism.#the discussion of the extent to which hamilton is flawed and whether the good outweighs the bad is a very real and reasonable debate.#and its entirely possible to draw the conclusion that hamilton was ultimately harmful even if the intent behind it was probably good.#just like its possible to argue that the metatextual flaws in the narrative are outweighed by the way the show has#helped bring marginalized voices into a space theyve historically been excluded from.#But as far as hamilton goes-its an important conversation to have but i do encourage white people engaging in the convo to prioritize#listen to and elevate the voices of nonwhite (esp black and indigenous) individuals

via @e-vasong - I hope you don't mind me pulling up your tags, but you make very good points. It's important to keep in mind that marginalized voices are always going to be criticized much more harshly than those who belong to the majority - I'm not gonna be the judge of how well Hamilton itself is done but I also feel a lot of the vitriol towards it is unwarranted, or at least exaggerated

Hey I like a lot of the takes you have regarding the pirate show so I wanted to ask for your opinion on smth that's been bothering me for a while:

I have a deep seated dislike for Hamilton. Twinkifying the fucking founding fathers, romanticizing slave abusers and overall villainizing the wrong people while others (Hamilton at the front naturally) gets sung at. Speaking of singing - I really hate it. Shipping (i want to repeat) the founding fathers, the blatant white washing bla bla bla. Anyway those are all known problems and better people have said it smarter before and that isn't really my point

It's the fact that a friend of mine recently brought up that Ofmd pretty much is the same and I shouldn't scream so loud in my glass house. Inaccurate historically speaking, the blatant ignoring of the slave owning that the real Stede and Edward did and so on and so forth. Minus the singing perhaps if we ignore Frenchies and Izzys

So. Does it make me a hypocrite to like ofmd so much but despise the mere mention of Hamilton? It's a thing I'm really stressed about lately and that kind of ruined my joy about finally getting season 2. I would love to hear your opinion. or that of your followers for that matter.

Thank you 😊

oh thank YOU because I do feel that this is an interesting thing to examine and we do not talk about it enough.

I have never seen Hamilton, or listened to the songs (except some snippets). I have never been involved in the fandom. I really, really can't speak to what the musical itself did wrong and right. But I will say this: There was a reason it got as popular and received the critical acclaim that it did. I can't speak to how it addresses the systemic injustice baked into the USA from the very beginning, and I do have a suspicion that it glosses over a lot of uncomfortable truths. But I also feel it is important that we divorce the source material from the fandom it spawns because ultimately, Miranda isn't responsible for Hatsune Miku Binder Jefferson, or the whole hivliving debacle.

Just as David Jenkins isn't responsible for the handwaving of slavery in fanworks, or the great Izzy Hands Debate, or whitewashing in fanart, or shitty, racist headcanons of the characters of colour, or whatever deranged scandal is yet to come to light. This is true for all fandoms; criticizing fandom dynamics is a very different conversation from criticizing the canon.

Let's focus on the canon here, though, because defending the fandom is pointless, and not something I want to do. Curate your experience.

The first thing to say is: If you like ofmd but don't like Hamilton, that's not hypocritical at all, that's first and foremost a matter of taste. Things are good when we like them and bad when we don't. We don't have to find objective reasons for it.

If the fact that the historical Stede Bonnet was a slaveowner, and the historical Blackbeard also participated in the slave trade, are dealbreakers for someone, that's valid. People have every right to be uncomfortable with that. The conversation could end at this point, if we want it to (I don't because I love to hear myself talk).

If we look at the historical figures a little closer the first stark difference is the cultural context in which they exist. The founding fathers seem to be extremely mythologized in the american consciousness but also, are understood to be real historical people. The founding myth is fundamental to the way in which the USA perceives itself (that is, as a beacon of freedom and democracy), and it's pretty hard to reconcile that with the bloodshed and human misery it was founded on. It's uncomfortable; and it's not just an American problem. Every western nation/former colonial power has quite literal corpses in their closets they'd rather not talk about (just so you don't think I'm getting on a high horse about the famed Erinnerungskultur here; go ask a german person about Lothar von Trotha and what he did to the Nama and Herero to receive a blank stare). The difference is, that the founding fathers are too prominent and too important to just not talk about, so instead, they are sanitized to a degree that can be straight up historical revisionism.

That's not Miranda's fault. Nor is it the fault of any one particular piece of historical fiction, biography, documentary, or what have you. But it is the context in which Hamilton exists and, from what I understand, a culture to which it contributes. Especially since it's based on a biography of the real Alexander Hamilton, and (again, to my understanding) claims to tell a more or less accurate story.

Pirates, on the other hand, are perceived completely differently. They are mythologized, but not for ideological reasons, not as state-building propaganda. Pirates are more like folk heroes; cultural icons (near) completely divorced from whatever historical figure once lived. They are "real" in the sense that they are based on real people, but engaging with them, from the start, has a layer of removal from reality that engaging with figures like the founding fathers hasn't. Blackbeard is from a saga. George Washington is from history.

ofmd, specifically, makes clear at every turn that what we are told is a fictional story that has very little to do with any real events. It's openly anachronistic, it has absurd internal logic. Life-threatening injuries are walked off. There's actual magic. Dinghies are treated like spawn points in a video game. Everything, from the costumes to the vernacular to the story beats, tells the audience that none of this is real.

You wouldn't accuse, idk, A Knight's Tale, or Mel Brooks's Men In Tights of whitewashing history. I feel like ofmd plays in a similar league; it's a comedy very vaguely based on history, and it makes sure the audience knows we are not about to be told anything true. If you watch ofmd, you know this isn't about the real, historical Stede Bonnet or Edward Teach.

So. Let's examine the actual story, yes? The story that is told here is anticolonialist, antiracist, and challenges oppressive power structures as much as is possible for a production like this. It addresses these things and condemns them, both explicitly and in its underlying message. (I'm not gonna explain all of this, enough ink has been spilled about it by people smarter than me)

I do not know what Hamilton is about at its core. I know Our Flag Means Death is about authenticity in the face of the whole world telling you there's something wrong with you. It's about resisting dehumanization and reclaiming your personhood. It's about love, in a radical, system-destroying way, about breaking the cycle of abuse, about healing, and finding joy.

Yes, the real historical figures it's based on were all horrible people. Again, if that's a dealbreaker, that's fine. I'm not trying to convince anyone who is deeply uncomfortable with that fact; it's perfectly understandable.

However, for me, personally, the story as a whole is so far removed from reality, and so firm in its message, that I feel this is forgivable.

(Oh, and a lat aside, I also feel like likening ofmd to Hamilton seldom seems to come from a place of genuine criticism. Often it seems to be more along the lines of "Hamilton is cringe, and if I say ofmd=Hamilton ppl will be too embarrassed to defend it" which yk. feels kinda disingenuous to me.)