#in case it's not true gonna make a reference to my friends were when someone is drunk/high they say “oigo borroso” (“I hear blurry”)

[arl3kinka]

rattober, day 1 — blurry rat

(first day and I'm already late uohoo!)

[kcrossvine-art]

Hi friends! Just a day after this years Yule and a few days out from Christmas, regardless of what you celebrate during this winter months, we're gonna be cooking a tangy tango between two traditional english staples-

Yule Plum Pudding and Wassail from Lord of the Rings Online!

(You can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to this Yule Plum Pudding?” YOU MAY ASKPlum Pudding is not a "pudding" as us americans think of it; its closer to a fruitcake but less shit.

Cranberries

White raisins

Macerated prunes (in brandy)

Chopped candied peel

Blanched almonds

All-purpose flour

Cinnamon

Nutmeg

Cloves

Sugar

Breadcrumbs

Lemon zest

Unsalted butter

Eggs

Whole milk

Half a bottle of brandy

It also doesnt contain any capital-P plums! it actually does contain plums im so fucking stupid i never connected the dots that prunes were dried plums oh my god. But they still ued any dried fruit, and "Plum" here is just referring to any dried fruit. And what about the birth of todays wassail?

4 cooking apples

2 pears

Brown sugar

Cinnamon sticks

2 lemons

A bottle of sherry

The other half bottle of brandy

Wassail is very similar to apple cider drank in the fall, with a few differences like the addition of pears and different alcohol source. It was commonly drank while "wassailing" which was a Yuletide predecessor to christmas carolling. People would go door-to-door with a big bowl of wassail, play music, and give well wishes- offering drinks from the wassail in return for small gifts!

AND, “what does Yule Plum Pudding and Wassail taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASK

The puddings like a fruitcake but if a fruit cake tasted good and wasnt a brick

Its thick and rich, and somehow actually tastes like plum despite that not being intended or making sense

I love the macerated prunes so much. Juicy berries to forage for. Enrichment

The icings reminiscent of buttercream but more savory than sweet

The wassail is like drinking the golden edges off the clouds at sunset

Its got a little bit of the dryness from the sherry that makes your mouth water the moment you stop drinking it

You just want to keep drinking more to sate yourself

Even without eggs its surprisingly full bodied and thick

I had to make a few substitutions from traditional elements due to either being not available or too expensive, but with a little problem-solving nothing was too hard to do.

. Used a bundt cake pan instead of a pudding tin .  Suet (animal fat) was historically used for plum pudding. I couldnt find any and used butter instead . Used golden delicious apples when called for . Used concorde pears when called for . Some wassail recipes fold in egg whites before serving, to make the drink creamier. I didnt do this, but if you do, the recommendation to drink it fresh still stands (and strongly)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I gotta admit, I was nervous approaching this recipe. Not only because I didn't own and couldnt find a "pudding tin" without ordering online, or because the concept of steaming a pastry(?) feels foreign and odd, but also because of how old and storied this dish is. You always run into the issue with historical foods who date back to the times where oral history was the only history. The issue of people being combative that their recipe is the only true variant of the recipe, and all the others are mucking the whole thing up.

Its good to remember that like with most dishes, cooking is something that evolved and continues to evolve overtime. Unless someones trying to rewrite history and claim that ants on a log is a creme brule in which case you should run them over with a '98 Pontiac Sunfire.

Theres a few things I'd do differently when cooking again, like chopping the blanched almonds. They were a bit too big when left whole. And adding some amount of heavy cream to the icing? Maybe? To give it a fluffier/milkier feel? But the proces of cooking itself was very straightforward and I have no real complaints or modifications to make. When having leftovers of the pudding it did seem to "mature" and taste better and better the more days i kept it in the fridge, so thats something to keep in mind! But it tastes great a day after all the same.

I give this recipe a solid 10/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Happy winter everyone! Congrats to another year of staying alive!

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Yule Plum Pudding Ingredients:

16oz cranberries

12oz white raisins

9oz macerated prunes

4oz chopped candied peel (any fruit)

2oz blanched, chopped almonds

4oz all-purpose flour

Measure spices with your heart (cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves)

8oz granulated sugar

8oz fresh white breadcrumbs

lemon zest (one lemon)

4oz grated unsalted butter

4 eggs

8oz whole milk

Pudding Icing Ingredients:

1½oz unsalted butter

1½oz all-purpose flour

10½oz whole milk

3oz granulated sugar

2 tablespoons brandy

Yule Plum Pudding Method:

A week before making, macerate your prunes in brandy.

Mix together all the dried fruit, peel, and almonds. Sieve flour and spices together then add to the fruit mixture along with the sugar, breadcrumbs, rind, and grated butter.

Beat eggs and then blend with 8oz of milk.

Stir the egg/milk mixture to incorporate into the dry ingredients. Add prunes, and stir some more.

Put batter into a well-buttered pudding basin, with parchment paper to cover.

Get a large pot and place a kitchen towel or something similar at the bottom- then place the pudding basin on top of the towel, inside the large pot.

Fill the outer pot with water until it’s halfway up the side, cover the pot with a lid (or foil).

Steam on the stovetop at 210f for 4-6 hours depending on size of pudding basin. If the water gets too low, add a bit more.

After steaming, uncover and allow to cool to room temperature. Do not remove it from the pudding basin! Cover with fresh parchment paper and foil and store in a cool, dry place for at least a day.

(optional) to reheat; steam for 40-80 minutes, until warmed through.

Pudding Icing Method:

Place butter in a medium saucepan with the flour, pour in the milk then whisk everything vigorously together over a medium heat.

As soon as it comes to simmering point and has thickened, turn the heat to its lowest setting, stir in the sugar, and let the sauce cook for 10 minutes.

Add the brandy and stir to mix. Keep warm until required.

Wassail Ingredients:

4 cooking apples

2 pears

Brown sugar

4 Cinammon sticks

2 lemon

1 bottle of Sherry

½ bottle of Brandy

Wassail Method:

Core the apples and pears, leave the rest intact, and set in a baking pan. Fill the hollow centers with brown sugar.

Add about an inch of water to the pan and bake at 350f for 30 minutes, or until the fruit is soft.

Move the fruit to a large pot, add a bottle of sherry, half a bottle of brandy, lemon peel, and 4 large cinnamon sticks. (Feel free to use less booze!)

Bring the pot to a simmer for about 45 minutes, stirring occasionally. Strain before serving!

[thezombieprostitute]

Changing Minds - Epilogue

Summary: Your long time work acquaintance Nick Fowler offers to take you to a fancy fundraiser as a way of cheering you up. He insists it's only as friends but when he sees you falling into the grasp of someone he knows is no good, he might change his mind on that.

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: Injured character, References to violence, SMUT. Please let me know if I missed any.

A/N: Reader is an older female (late 30's +). This is part of the Garbage Men AU.

Part 8

Series Masterlist

“N-N-Nick, you’re, oh, s-supposed t-to be, ah, resting,” you stammer as Nick continues fucking you with his tongue. He growls into your pussy at your words, his dark eyes telling you that he’s not stopping for anything less than another orgasm from you. He switches to your clit, gently sucking and licking, as he plunges two of his thick fingers into you, making you arch your back and moan. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so much pleasure in such a short time.

True to your word you’d held Nick’s hand as he was getting patched up. It really felt like he was just looking for an excuse to hold your hand and have you dote on him, but you didn't mind. He was prescribed bed rest and painkillers but he declined the latter saying he didn't care for the dulled senses that came with it. 

He practically begged you to not send him away for his bed rest. He'd sleep on your couch if you wanted but he needed to be near you in case of retaliation from Kent’s people. Your apartment building was still being watched by Nick's people so it was also much safer for him. You told him you’d be happy to take care of him while he rested in your bed and he smirked.

“So you finally believe me when I tell you I want you?”

“You heard that,” you commented. “I thought I’d said it quietly enough.”

“My hearing is better than you think,” he pulls you in for a kiss. “Looking forward to hearing all your whimpers and moans tonight. If you’ll let me.”

Your body is on fire. Forgetting yourself for a moment you hold Nick tight to you, letting go as soon as you hear his pained grunt. “Shit. Sorry, Nick. You really should lay down and get some proper rest.”

“Not a chance,” he snarls before kissing you again. “Finally got you, not gonna let a few injuries get in the way of being with you.”

“Exactly,” you breathe, pulling away from him. “You’ve got me, we’ve got time.”

“Nope,” he pulls you close again. “Gotta make up for lost time. All that time I didn’t see you for the wonderful, intelligent, strong, beautiful Lady you were.”

Thinking he’ll fall asleep as soon as he lays down, at most after you get in some cuddling, you smile and lead him to the bedroom. You undress and his eyes darken with lust. 

“Lay down for me,” he says, his tone just shy of an order. 

And that’s how you ended up coming on Nick’s tongue enough times that your brain melted. Now his thick, talented fingers are working their own magic as his eyes study you. He’s clearly looking for a reaction but you’re too lost in all the sensations to know what to give him. His stubble gently scratching your thighs. His mouth playing with your pearl. The sounds he’s pulling from you that you didn’t know you could make.

Then his fingers graze over a spot that has you seeing stars, stretching your legs open wider for him. When your eyes can focus again, Nick looks almost sinister and he rubs his fingers over that spot again, just long enough for you to react but not long enough to follow through on that ecstasy it gives you. He does it again and you whine, your pussy clenching around his fingers. 

“Please, Nick,” you rasp. 

He releases your clit, giving you some relief, and coos, “do you promise not to keep talking about me needing rest?”

“Y-yes, Nick.”

“Good,” he licks your clit again. “Because you are the best damn medicine in the world for me.” He moves his fingers over that same spot and, this time, doesn’t stop rubbing. He watches you come apart on his fingers and he moans at how beautiful you look. He’ll never get tired of hearing you chanting his name as he makes you come. 

You’re not sure at what point you passed out. You just remember waking up to Nick smiling as he praised you. 

“Nick,” you rasp. “I feel like I can’t move my legs.”

“Don’t worry my Lady. I’ll take damn good care of you.”

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” you protest. 

“You want to take care of me,” he raises an eyebrow questioningly. “Then how about I get a condom on.” You moan at that and he starts to undress. 

You could tell that Nick was strong but seeing him without his shirt gave you an entirely new appreciation for how strong he really was. And an appreciation for how gentle he could be with you. If you could move you’d crawl over and start kissing his injuries in appreciation for how he had protected you. As it was, your legs were completely useless and Nick had effectively drained you of strength in all the best ways. 

When Nick finally removes his boxers you lick your lips in anticipation, making him chuckle darkly. “You are an eager Lady,” he comments.

“I’m also eager to make up for overlooking you,” you confess. “All those dates that led to nothing and I didn’t once think of you.”

Nick puts the condom on and moves onto the bed, hovering over you as he gives a deep, gentle, loving kiss. “No more regrets,” he says as he starts gently pushing his erection into you. The stretch feels so good and you moan appreciatively, kissing along Nick’s jawline until he’s fully sheathed. You swear you can feel him shaking with effort to be gentle for you. He whispers, “tell me when you’re ready for me to move.”

“Please, Nick,” you whine. “Please fuck me like you’ve wanted to.” 

Nick groans at your words and starts rolling his hips. You’re incredibly grateful he put so much time and energy into preparing you. His cock is so much more than any other lover you’ve had and he clearly knows how to use it. He’s hitting all of the spots you need and, as he increases his pace and force, you find yourself careening towards yet another blissful orgasm. 

“That’s it, beautiful Lady,” he grunts. “Come all over my cock. Wanna feel how tight you can squeeze me.” He sits back on his feet and readjusts himself, pushing into you at a new angle that has you gasping. His hand moves to your clit and he rubs it in time with his thrusts, pushing you over the edge and you squeeze him as you cream all over his cock, making him come with you. He lets out a few grunts in surprise at how quickly he came. 

The rest of the night is spent exchanging loving kisses and caresses. Taking care of each other as best as you can. 

When you wake up you still can’t really move your legs. Nick is still sleeping and you opt to let him stay that way. He has a lot of healing to do and you’re not really sure last night was actually good for his injuries. You struggle to get yourself put together enough to make breakfast, smiling as you remember what led to you having such rubbery legs. 

Putting some bagels in the toaster you grab your phone to read as you wait. Your jaw drops at the number of notifications. Going through all the messages from friends, family and coworkers you start piecing things together. 

Clark Kent’s rampage went viral. You had been clearly identified as a potential victim and many people were checking in to make sure you were okay, clearly upset when you didn’t respond right away. There were even some texts from your sister asking if you had the means to sue him. No doubt she just wanted to cash in on you getting some kind of settlement so you deleted those messages. 

There was also an email from Teach. You opened it quickly, afraid that your protection had been rescinded for overstepping. Instead, she offered you access to the Family’s lawyer. Not only for the attempted assault but, according to trustworthy witnesses and security footage, Mr. Kent had clearly implied that he’d been stalking you. This was clearly referencing his comment about seeing your pay stubs. 

Looking over some of the news coverage it was clear Clark Kent had finally taken a hit and he didn’t know how to respond. Stock prices in his companies plummeted as soon as photos of him in handcuffs surfaced. While he had made bail, it looked like he’d decided to lock himself up in one of his penthouses, refusing all interviews and public appearances. He even took his social media presence private for now.

You’re startled out of your reading by Nick’s gentle caress on your cheek. The two of you talk over everything as you make up a small breakfast.

“You’re really something else, you know that,” he asks. “I work for years trying to even make a dent into this guy’s reputation and in just a few weeks you’ve obliterated it.”

“I’m sure it’ll be old news before long,” you shake your head. “And he’ll be back on top in no time.”

“Yeah, but it’ll never be the same,” he retorts with a smile. “You’ve changed a lot of people’s minds about him and I’ll always be grateful to you for that.”

“Do you think he’ll retaliate somehow?”

“Possibly,” Nick’s smile drops. “Probably. But with both a police and public record, it’ll be a lot more difficult for him to make any move against you.”

“So you’ll probably have to go back to your actual work,” you comment. “I won’t have my guard dog around as much.” You look at the puppy dog plushie Nick had gotten you for your first gift. 

“You’re still my priority,” he asserts. “I will never change my mind about that.”

The rest of the morning is spent talking about what comes next. You’ve never felt more hopeful about the future. 

Part 8

Series Masterlist

Tag List:

@alicedopey

@icefrozendeadlyqueen

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

@rebekahdawkins

@terry2227

@texmexdarling

[wrestlingisfake]

A brief history of CM Punk-AEW drama

Saw someone ask for a full recap of the Punk/AEW drama. So I spent an hour writing a decent summary, and by the time I finished they deleted the post I was trying to reblog. That's okay, I get it. But since I put in the work I'm just gonna make my own post, in case anyone else has questions.

I have tried to keep this as unbiased as possible, with a summary of the discourse at the end. If anybody needs more clarification on anything you can send me an ask.

CM Punk signed with AEW in 2021. Right away a big issue that came up was his ex-friend Colt Cabana. (Long story.) By early 2022, rumors began to swirl among the wrestlers that Punk was using his star power to get Cabana pushed out of the company. Cabana's friends in the company assumed the rumors were true and resented Punk. This came to a head in May 2022, when Adam Page referenced the rumors on live TV, in a segment with Punk. By this point Punk's relationship with Page and the Young Bucks was damaged beyond repair.

On September 4, 2022, during the post-show scrum for All Out, Punk aired his grievances with the Young Bucks (always referring to them as "the EVPs") and Adam Page. Punk clearly believed the Bucks manufactured the "Punk is trying to force Cabana out" story and leaked it to wrestling news sites to turn the locker room against Punk. Punk closed by saying that if anybody had a problem with him, he had an "open door" policy, and he'd be in his dressing room. The Bucks and fellow EVP Kenny Omega went to see him. A fight broke out. Everyone involved--even people who just tried to break it up--was suspended for a while (except Punk, who was going to be sidelined for months for a torn triceps either way).

We don't have much solid information about the September 2022 fight. Most reports I read suggest Punk and his friend Ace Steel made it physical, with Punk punching one of the Bucks (maybe both, I can't remember) and Steel throwing a chair and biting Omega. One account said the Bucks kicked the door open, unwittingly hitting Punk's dog in the face and knocking several teeth loose, which would have provoked Punk's side. It's also been suggested that since Steel's wife was in the room and in no condition to flee a potential three-on-two ambush, this could have made Steel and Punk feel they had to come out swinging. There is no footage of the fight, but there were neutral parties who witnessed it (notably including AEW's chief legal officer, Megha Parekh). Everyone involved signed NDAs and can't/won't talk about it on the record.

For the next nine months, it wasn't clear if Punk wanted to come back to AEW, or if AEW wanted to bring him back. Lots of people suggested that Punk and the three EVPs could talk it out and then make a lot of money turning it into a fake wrestling feud. But Omega and the Bucks showed no interest in talking to Punk or working with him. Ultimately Punk returned in June 2023 on a new show, Collision. The idea was that the EVPs (and anyone else who couldn't co-exist with Punk) would stay on Dynamite, and Punk would have carte blanche on Collision.

Within a couple of months, reports emerged about backstage issues involving Punk. The main one that blew up involved Jack Perry, who was always tight with the Bucks, and was typically on Dynamite, and not on Collision. Perry had vacation time scheduled and wanted to shoot an angle to explain his absence, in which HOOK would throw him into a car windshield. For some reason it didn't get done on a Dynamite taping, so arrangements were made to shoot it at a Collision taping. Everybody who thought the windshield spot with real glass was a bad idea asked Punk to talk Perry out of it. It's not clear whether Tony Khan approved the spot for Dynamite, or rescheduling it for Collision, or allowing Punk to have the last word. Ultimately the windshield spot was canceled.

On August 31, 2023, Perry wrestled Hook at All In, and they finally did the windshield spot that Punk previously nixed. Perry went out of his way to reference the earlier story, saying "You know what this is? Real glass! Go cry me a river," as if daring Punk to do something about it. After the match, Perry went behind the curtain just as Punk and Samoa Joe were getting ready for their match. By all accounts, Punk complained to Perry, Perry was like "what are you going to do about it?" and Punk decided that justified starting a fight. It was broken up very quickly, and then Punk got all hostile with Tony Khan, saying "this place is a joke and you're a clown." Punk was asked to leave, and within a week he had been terminated with cause.

The "CM Punk did nothing wrong" position, generally speaking, is that AEW is severely mismanaged, with Tony Khan allowing the Young Bucks and their friends to do a lot of dumb bullshit, leaving Punk no choice but to take matters into his own hands. Punk's enemies within AEW conspired to turn the locker room against him, and used wrestling news outlets to spread anti-Punk stories to turn the fandom against him. In any case, Punk is the biggest star AEW has ever signed (if not the biggest star AEW will ever sign), and it was bad for business to let him get so discouraged.

The "Punk screwed Punk" position, generally speaking, is that his grievances with AEW management stopped mattering whenever he resorted to physical force. His Bruiser Brody approach to throwing his weight around is backward and outdated in the 2020s (and didn't even end well for Brody in the 1980s). His assumption that the Bucks planted anti-Punk stories in the media is unfounded, and rather paranoid. He resents the EVPs for lawyering up instead of burying the hatchet, even though he feels totally justified taking the same approach with Colt Cabana. Basically, Punk thinks he can do what he likes, and anyone else who does the same against Punk's wishes is a snake, a clown, or soft.

Splitting the difference between these takes: Everybody should have talked this out by early 2022, before it got out of hand. Tony Khan should have gotten out in front of the the "Punk is trying to get rid of Cabana" rumors before they got online. Punk and Cabana should have come to terms on how they would co-exist as soon as Punk joined the company. Adam Page should not have bottled up his grievances until he was on live TV, and Punk should not have bottled up his resentment about that until a media scrum. Once it got past that point, and the first fight happened, Khan needed to take charge and settle it, immediately. He needed to choose, in September 2022, between keeping Punk aboard at all costs, or showing Punk who's boss at all costs. Instead, he tried to have it both ways for a year, until Punk made that impossible.

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers CHAOS LINEAGE ー Subaru [Euphoria Ending]

ー The scene starts in the Church

Subaru: Uu...Gaah...!

Yui: Subaru-kun!? Please, let go of my hand! Don't try to save me...!

Subaru: Fuck off! Not in a million years!

Yui: You can't, you'll get caught up as well...!

Subaru: Still, I just can't let go of...Uu...Guh...!

Yui: ( Ah, his wounds are aching...He's trying to protect me, even in his current state. )

( I appreciate the sentiment...but! )

Let me go, Subaru-kun! In your current state...!

Subaru: As if I can watch you die in front of me! I promised that I'd keep you save no matter what, remember!?

Yui: And I want to protect you too! I don't want to let you die...!!

Subaru: Shut up! You better not think I'm gonna let you kick the bucket either!

Yui: ...

Subaru: ...

Yui: Fufu...

Subaru: ...Hehe.

Yui: ーー Hey, Subaru-kun. We're very similar, aren't we?

We both refuse to give the other up. Even in a situation like this.

Subaru: Yeah, you're right.

Yui: In that case, we might as well go togetherーー

Subaru: ...

Hah, you big idiot. But I guess dyin' alongside you wouldn't be that bad.

We'll be together, as we die, and in the afterlife as well.

Let's just allow the wind to swallow us up. Rest assured. I definitely won't let go of you.

Yui: Yeah, I'll be fine. Nothing scares me when we're together.

Subaru: Yeah. Come on, look at me. I'll kiss you until the bitter end.

Yui: Okay...

Subaru: ...Nn...

Yui: Nn...

( Such a sweet kiss. The type of kiss which I love so much, making me forget all about my fears or worries. )

( If this is how I'll approach my end, there's nothing to be afraid of... )

*Flash*

Yui: ...!?

Subaru: What was that light just now...!?

*Rumble rumble*

Subaru: Oi, is it just me or is this Church fallin' apart...!?

Yui: Yeah, but how odd. The strong gust of wind and the rubble are all disappearing. Like they're fading into particles of light...

Subaru: Yeah, it's almost as if this World itself is breaking down...!

Don't worry! Just hang onto me tight, 'kay? ...Kuh!

*WOOSH*

ー The scene shifts to the mysterious Chamber

Yui: ...Huh...?

( Where are we...? We were at that Church, and then... )

Subaru: Nn...? Oi, are you alright?

Yui: Yeah, I'm fine! How about you?

Subaru: I somehow turned out alright as well...Where are we...?

The Castle at Eden...?

Yui: Does that mean we safely made it out of that World?

Subaru: Probably.

Yui: Ah, everyone else is here too! They seem to be unconscious too...

But how did this happen? Someone needed to be sacrificied for that World to be destroyed, no?

Subaru: Yeah...But seems like that World fell apart for god knows what reason.

*Woosh*

Socrates: The experiment was a succes.

Subaru: This light, and voice...Socrates, is that you!?

Socrates: At that critical moment of life or death, Adam and Eve most definitely embraced the love for each other.

I witnessed it all with my very own eyes. True love, worthy of the new World.

Subaru: The fuck...!?

Yui: ( I don't quite get it, but I guess this means his experiment has come to an end? )

Socrates: The hint I gave in regards to how you could destroy that World played a big part in everything, no?

Subaru: Haah!? You've gotta be fuckin' with us! How was that bullshit 'bout one person havin' to die supposed to help us!?

Socrates: I am not referring to that. The real clue as to how to break that World was hidden in the legend.

Subaru: The legend? The thing 'bout kissin' Eve in the Church?

Yui: But I wasn't woken up through a kiss...

Socrates: The true meaning behind the story of Sleeping Beauty lies in the fact that awakening must happen through genuine love.

If Adam and Eve can prove that their love is real and seal it with a kiss, the cage will crumble and an end will come to the everlasting nightmare.

Everyone will wake up, and a new Supreme Overlord...In other words, Adam will be born.

Yui: So, the fact we kissed at the Church...

Subaru: Was exactly that...?

Socrates: Now I have seen it all. I will accept losing a dear friend for a love this strong.

I am satisfiedーー

ー Socrates disappears

Subaru: Oi, what the fuck!? Don't just have your say and then dip on us!?

Yui: I wonder who that guy was in the end? Also, this 'friend' he spoke of...

Karlheinz: ...I witnessed all of it as well, my dear friend Socrates. It was a formidable experiment.

Subaru: You bastard...What rock did you crawl out from under!?

Yui: Karlheinz-san. Then this 'dear friend' Socrates mentioned...

Karlheinz: He was referring to me, Eve.

Still, I did not think you would have grown this much, Subaru.

Subaru: ...Che.

Karlheinz: You are now more than worthy to inherit my powers.

Both my friend and I have lost track of just how long we have waited for Adam and Eve to find true love.

For that exact moment where we discover genuine love through the appearance of two people capable of creating a new Worldーー

Eve and yourself did an excellent job proving your true love for one another. I could not wish for any more.

Now, accept these powers of mineーー

Subaru: I don't want them!

Karlheinz: ...Why not?

Subaru: I'll use my own strength to live alongside her!

*Rustle*

Yui: ( Ah...He's holding me tight. )

Subaru: My name's Subaru and she's Yui. We're not 'Adam' and 'Eve'.

I'll stay with her, both in life and death, because that's my own choice.

I don't give a damn 'bout what you have to think of that!

Yui: Me too...I am with Subaru-kun as myself, not as Eve.

Now and forever.

Karlheinz: ...I see. So you will reject every aspect of our experiment, rendering it null and void?

Very well. You did most definitely show us your genuine love after all.

I shall give you two my blessing! As you chose love over powerーー

ー Karlheinz vanishes

Yui: ( Ah, he disappeared...But now we've finally been freed from that cage. )

We can go back at last!

Subaru: Yeah. Let's get outta here already.

Yui: Yup!

Monologue The miniature World fell apart, and we finally got back to our everyday lives. All of us made it back safe and sound, without anyone having to be sacrificed. Of course, this includes Subaru-kun as well. This event proved to us, that we both absolutely need each other. One of us cannot be removed from the picture, even if that is nothing but self-satisfaction. If we truly want the other to smile, then we simply cannot leave their smile. I believe that is difficult, as easy as it may sound. However, I refuse to leave Subaru-kun's side, no matter what happens. I'll live and die alongside himーー That is different from what Karlheinz-san and his friend had in mind for us, but we shall continue to walk down this path, which we carved for ourselves.

ー The scene shifts to Subaru's room at the Sakamaki manor

Yui: Subaru-kun, you're still not getting up? Reiji-san's telling you to get out of bed already.

Subaru: Don't listen to what that guy has to say. Who cares if I stay like this a bit longer?

Yui: But you'll be late for school if you don't get up soon.

Subaru: I can just skip, right? More importantly, you should join me over here.

*Rustle*

Yui: Wah...!

Subaru: Hah, now he'll get on your case as well.

Yui: Geez, Subaru-kun.

( But somehow I'm okay with getting scolded if it's together with Subaru-kun. )

Subaru: Oi, look at me. ...Nn.

Yui: Nnh...!

You can't, Subaru-kun! If we kiss now, who knows when Reiji-san might walk in to wake us...

Subaru: Then let's give him a show. We'll make it very clear that we're too busy for school today.

Yui: Gosh...

Subaru: Who cares? We made it out of that place alive.

Let me feel you even more. I want to confirm that you're actually here with me.

Yui: Subaru-kun...

Subaru: Nn...

Yui: ...Phew...

( No fair...I can't say no when he says such things. )

Subaru: I love you. Forever, and ever.

ーー THE END ーー

[yutafrita]

[12:02pm]

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Sungchan x Superhero!Reader

A part of Through the webs but can be read as a one-shot. this will def spoil that story!

Genre: Fluff, some angst, but mostly fluff, sci-fi

Warnings: spiders and spider imagery, alcohol, references to vomiting, organized crime, depictions of violence, near death experiences

WC: <4k

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Sungchan felt like he lost his mind.

It was you. It had to be you. He just wanted to tell you thank you for saving his life was all. So, why was he sitting awkwardly on the other end of the cafe staring at you?

You weren’t completely oblivious to the soccer player burning holes in your back as you worked on your own project. While Sungchan had been working to figure out your identity, you had been working to maintain your appearance as an average person despite being a super powered vigilante.

“Are you gonna tell him something? It’s creeping me out?” Ten asked. He sat across from you doodling on his notebook. Ten was easiest to identify for a few reasons, but his tattoos made him extremely easy to catch. You had seen him around campus before, so seeing the video of him pulling a sword out from his skin to fight a robber made it click pretty easily for you.

You shrugged, “I don’t have the energy to deal with a mild creep when there’s bigger fish to fry.”

“You’re still focused on the Capsik case, huh.”

You cringed. Capsik was one of the richest men in the city, and you were heavily suspicious of his wealth and true intentions.

“My intel is saying there’s going to be a robbery in the Mayor’s home soon.”

“Hm, I think Jaemin has a friend that works by the Mayor’s place. We can stake out there to see if we catch something.”

“Perfect,” You nodded.

“Hopefully we keep up the good luck,” he got up shortly afterwards, rushing out to his next class on campus.

You went back to your notebook, writing out some last notes before you felt the air shift in front of you.

“Can I help you?” You didn’t bother looking up, already feeling irritated.

"I'm Sungchan," he spoke, and you still didn't look up.

Sungchan on the other hand was shaking in his sneakers. “Why would you acid wash your shoes?”

This caught your attention. You glanced down at your stupidly expensive boots and flinched. A few weeks back, you saved someone after they slipped and fell off a building. Lucky for you, they didn’t catch a glimpse of you, but unlucky for you, they were drunk and threw up on your boots. When you got back to your apartment, you grumbled to yourself as you tried to disinfect them in vinegar, only to accidentally stain the boots.

They were too expensive for you to not keep wearing!

“It makes them look cooler, no?” You lied, plastering a smile on your face and kicking your foot on the table for him to see. He blinked quickly, and you swear you almost had him fooled until he shook his head.

“You saved my life,” he whispered, his eyes wide. Shit.

Quickly, you shoved all of your stuff into your backpack and walked out of the cafe. Maybe if you went fast enough you could outrun the athlete.

This was a bold, foolish thought. He was fully in a soccer uniform with his hair held back with a sweatband and a large duffel bag sitting at his hip. He was fully ready to confront you.

“I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you hissed, turning around to glare at him.

“I know it was you who saved my life,” he tried again, his voice low. You furrowed your eyebrows, and took a step forward to stand closer to the soccer player.

“Do I look like someone who cares enough to save your life? I don’t even know your name,” you countered, obviously forcing a confidence that was not there. You hated being so mean, but you were desperate- you had barely been a vigilante for long and already someone had figured out your identity.

Sungchan paused, analyzing your face before nodding, clearly standing his ground. Sungchan had thought for a long while if it was really you, and between your voice, the shoes, your stature, and your attempt to brush him off, he felt certain that you saved his life.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” he smiled in a smug, excited way. He was so forward with his thinking and emotions, it was jarring to you.

You huffed, before looking around to inspect who else was around you both as you stood in the University's grass courtyard. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“You sure do ask a lot of questions.”

“And you don’t give a lot of answers,” he countered. You let out a harsh laugh, earning additional looks from your fellow students as you moved through and out of campus. After a block, you lead him into the building you've begun to regard as your home.

“Is this your place?” He asked as you entered your apartment. He stood at the door, afraid to enter.

“I’m not gonna bite,” you announced, arms crossed in your living room as you waited for him to enter. You took him to your balcony, and you two stood on there for a moment, staring out in silence.

"This is a sick view," Sungchan noted, looking out at the horizon. Sighing, you pointed to the building across the street and his eyes widened.

"I was annoyed at how loud that rooftop party was and just came out to glare. I didn't think someone would be drunk enough to slip off a roof," you explained, staring at the ledge the lanky man slipped off of.

"I'm not going to tell anyone," Sungchan spoke. He was sincere, this was obvious as you studied his face.

"Okay, I trust you."

"Thanks," you were quiet for a moment.

"This doesn't make us friends, by the way," you added. You didn't want to owe him anything, and you didn't want him to force himself to hang out with you.

"Thank you, for saving my life... and I'm sorry about your shoes," his voice was so small and he moved so quietly, you almost didn't hear him leave.

*****

“Twenty bucks! I’ll pay you twenty bucks, Bambi!” Yangyang’s voice was loud in the morning, and something about him being over the phone made his begging almost intolerable to Sungchan.

“Where’s the class again?”

“In the science hall! It starts in twenty minutes! I need to cover my coworkers shift so I can get these concert tickets but I need you to record the lecture or else I’m screwed.”

“Fine. I’ll sit in the back and record it.”

“Oh my god dude I love you!”

Sungchan made it to the class ten minutes later, his bed hair swooped into a baseball cap and his body snuggled into a hoodie and old soccer pants that had a grass stain on them.

The classroom could hold up to 75 students, so Sungchan wasn't too worried about the professor noticing him. Sitting in the back he opened his laptop and set a show on silent with the captions on, and had his phone ready to record.

"Are you watching One Punch Man?" he looked next to him in shock to see you standing over the empty seat next to him, looking over his shoulder at his laptop.

Yangyang did say you were classmates, he just never said what class.

"Uh... erm yes," Sungchan answered once he realized how long he was staring at you for. Without giving it much thought, you sat next to him and throughout class silently watched three episodes together. Throughout the lecture, you two took to writing notes on your notebook, sliding it to each other in hopes of the professor not noticing.

You’re not in this class

I’m not, my friend just asked me to record the lecture for him.

You’re a good friend

I know. I need to stop that.

You held back a laugh at his note. You were trying to not be too friendly with him, but he frankly seemed like a deer in headlights most of the time. You liked it.

“Do you like Demon Slayer?” He asked once class ended. You were packing up your notebook, so hearing his actual voice to you aback. You nodded in response.

“The theatre down the road is playing the new movie in an hour. I was already planning on going… do you wanna come with?”

Why were you so drawn to the lanky, nervous soccer player? Maybe it was his inability to hide his thoughts and feelings, or the way you would catch him taking notes during the movie because he wanted to talk to you about it afterwards and didn’t want to forget anything.

“Sungchan,” you stated his name as you were about to part ways. You were going to do a solo hike this weekend but had read online that some portions were difficult to do on your own. Your Mom was busy volunteering, so your options were slim. Sungchan was a soccer player, and you figured if anyone could keep up with it, it would be him.

“I’d love to join,” he replied after you asked him.

“Cool, I’ll text you the details,” you turned on your heel and headed back to campus.

****

“Spiderweb,” you called too late, watching as Sungchan walked straight into an old spider’s web.

“Gah! Can’t you tell them to remove their old webs?” He asked, removing the webbing that attached itself to his hat. You picked up Sungchan near the crack of dawn to get to the hiking trail that was a few hours away.

“Why would I tell them that?” You hummed, waving at the small spiders that had taken to following you two along the trail.

“I can’t help that I’m tall but I also don’t want to keep accidentally destroying their webs with my face,” Sungchan complained. He seemed genuinely distressed, so you sighed and turned back to the small formation of spiders.

“Can you guys take care of the webs along the trail please?”

Sounds like a lot of work. But fine.

“Thank you,” you said as they began to scamper off.

“Oh, thank you!” Sungchan called over slowly, his eyes wide as he watched them run along the trail and out of your line of sight.

“You’re not freaked out?” You asked, now taking the lead.

“Why would I be? Spiders are an important part of our ecosystem,” he shrugged it off. He was so… clear. It’s like he was just unable to hide his feelings or his thoughts.

“So, how long have you had your powers?”

“When I started puberty. When did you start playing soccer?”

“Since I could walk. Do you know the other masked vigilantes?”

“Are we playing 20 questions here?” You joked, looking back to see his face unwavering. “I…. Yeah. I figured it out a few weeks ago and thought it would make sense for us all to work together.”

“Woah! That’s awesome… hey, was that guy at the cafe-.”

“I’m not telling you who they are,” you snapped, your breathing getting difficult the higher up the elevation got. The trail was up along a mountain headed towards a really cool peak, but the elevation change was sharp and left it difficult for your lungs to adjust.

“Fine fine- oh look!” You had come across an opening in the line of trees, and Sungchan immediately moved slightly off path to get a better look. “Wow, this is awesome!”

He was right, the view was pretty breathtaking. Considering that the elevation was beating you down and that the trail was empty, you found yourself glad to have invited the soccer player. Your mom had been berating you for not making more friends, and maybe she was right- you wouldn’t let her know that, though.

Wednesday’s became movie nights because that’s when the theatre would have $5 movie tickets, and Saturday’s would be your outdoorsy activity. The only time this would vary would be if your vigilante side got caught up, in which case Sungchan would ask as many questions as possible.

“So, you think Capsik is selling faulty medical equipment?” Sungchan whispered as you sat in on your Wednesday movie. You had picked an early afternoon movie on purpose knowing it would just be you two. Sungchan and you had a horrible habit of talking in the middle of movies, so this was the best compromise.

“That’s one of my theories, that or he’s injecting baby’s with drugs only his group makes,” you posited, taking a handful of the popcorn Sungchan held and eating it.

“Hm. Hey, are you going to go to my states game by the way?”

“I thought I already told you yes.”

“Oh, okay cool. That guy Jaemin is gonna be there since he’s friends with YangYang,” he noted. You nodded, staring at the screen and still eating popcorn. “Are you guys, a thing?”

You choked on a kernel, coughing until it came up. “Oh my god! No, absolutely not, he’s just a coworker,” you half lied. Coworker really just meant he was another vigilante, but Sungchan didn’t need to know that detail.

“Oh, cool.”

“Sungchan I think I’ve told you like, everything there is to know about me. Does Jaemin seem like someone I’d date?” You taunted. You went to grab more kernels until Sungchan lifted the tub out of your reach.

“What kind of person would you date?” He asked. You frowned, and within the blink of an eye used the webbing from your wrist to grab the tub and bring it back into your lap.

“Not someone that takes my popcorn,” you taunted.

“Until you tell me, there’s no way I’ll actually know it all!”

You furrowed your brows, “why are you so interested?”

Sungchan panicked. It was clear to him you didn’t pick up on less obvious social cues, but he was still shy- he hadn’t worked up the nerve to tell you about his romantic feelings yet.

“I… I have a friend that you might be into!”

“…oh. What are they like?” You hoped Sungchan didn’t catch the disappointment you felt. You weren’t even sure why you felt that.

“Well, he’s on the soccer team with me.”

“Is that like, his whole personality?”

Sungchan glared at you, and you raised your hand in defeat to let him continue talking. “He loves nature, is moderately sociable, and his big brother used to have a pet tarantula so he’s cool with spiders.”

Maybe it was the way Sungchan sold this person to you, but you found yourself agreeing to go on a date with the guy. He refused to tell you his name, just that he would be holding yellow roses in the park at the agreed upon day and time.

You felt stupid as you sat on the park bench. You wiped the sweat off of your hands and onto the sundress Jisoo has insisted you wear. You were already planning on how to let this guy down gently when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Sungchan? What are you-?” You stopped, seeing the large bouquet of yellow roses he held in his shaking hands.

“I like you as more than a friend,” the sentence came out clumsy despite him having rehearsed it a million times. You stood up from the bench in complete shock as he continued to ramble on, “you’re awesome. I feel like I could talk to you for hours without ever getting bored. You push me out of my comfort zone and you’re really, really pretty and I just want to be there for you if you’ll let me.”

You were quiet, studying the tall man whose hands were still shaking with the bouquet. Carefully, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against his cheek.

“I think you’re really, really pretty too,” you giggled, taking the flowers from his hands. “You make me feel loved. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Sungchan quickly wrapped you in a hug, squishing the flowers as he tried to hide just how giddy he felt.

“So, if we’re dating, that means I can call you my boyfriend?” You teased, walking hand in hand through the park with sungchan.

He pretended to think before responding, “only if it means I get to call you my girlfriend.”

Permatag! @nini0620 @enhazen

[imsoveryveryconfusedatlife]

Tag Game: Writeblr Interview

Thanks @tildeathiwillwrite for the tag here!

I hesitate to tag as many people as this is one of those things where there’s no point in doing it twice but tagging:

@xenon-writes-sometimes, @rumeysawrites, @rivenantiqnerd, @leahnardo-da-veggie, @kaylinalexanderbooks, and an open tag!

This is going to be a long post so I’m adding a break here

Short stories, novels, or poems?

I cannot stand most poetry. Maybe it’s because I’m still in school and have to analyse it but I can’t deal with how abstract it can be. I want to write more short stories but my one and only WIP is probably gonna be closer to a novel, if and when I finish it.

What genre do you prefer reading?

Fantasy, especially high fantasy. Murder mysteries and detective stories in general are a close second. Most other genres are reserved for spin offs or fan fiction.

Are you a planner or a write as I go kind of person?

I make a plan that I then actively ignore my OCs force me to not use

What music do you listen to while writing?

Most of the time I listen to the one Reddit podcast I’ve listened to every episode of because I can zone out and I don’t miss anything important. This one is a bit of a bad habit because it distracts me, but EPIC the musical is my current hyperfixation and I listen to that constantly as well.

Favorite books/movies?

Because I have the reading comprehension of an 11 year old we have Murder Most Unladylike (I would die for this series), its spin off the Ministry of Unladylike Activity, The Hunger Games but only really the first book, How to train your dragon but only really the Netflix show and the first movie (the books are great but I haven’t read them in 7 or 8 years and because they’re so different from the movies I’m not sure if I’d like them anymore)

Any current WIPs?

Gold, Greed and Gods which is a vaguely Victorian fantasy about the main cast trying to find a cult before it engulfs the world in literal chaos. And also magical shenanigans and timeline fuckery

Create a character description of yourself:

Honestly I’d rather not. Sorry!

Do you like incorporating actual people you know into your writing?

No it kinda weirds me out. The closest I’ll get is asking my one irl mutual about their experiences with stuff that I (as a someone who is cishet and perisex) do not understand

Are you kill happy with your characters?

I’m not the biggest fan of angst so no. If anyone was gonna die you aren’t allowed to get attached to them so I don’t get attached them hence why the only dead characters in my WIP die before or very soon after it begins. That isn’t to say my characters aren’t affected, but I can only imagine any potential readers will be neither here or there about those characters.

Coffee or Tea while writing?

I don’t really like hot drinks but I hate the smell of coffee so tea?

Slow or fast writer?

A secret third thing which is I wrote 5000 words in 3 hours yesterday so for atleast the next week I won’t be able to string a sentence together

If you were in a fantasy world, what would you be?

A healer would be fun? I wanna be a doctor so I guess that’s close enough. I cannot imagine I’d survive very long without my glasses/ contacts in any case.

Most fav book cliche:

Not really a book cliche but horny bard memes will never not be funny. I also love juxtaposition between characters, if done tastefully, eg. Ray of sunshine is best friends/ dating the grumpiest character alive. I also just love ray of sunshine characters in general. Also, calm/ happy go lucky/ mentor figure characters who have really high body counts and it’s just kind of an open secret are really fun.

Least favorite cliche:

A lot of romance tropes are tied for last place: miscommunication, any reference or idea that firsts=better (virginity, first loves, one true love etc.), not like other girls

Also love triangles. The only good love triangles are the ones that end in polycules. No exceptions (/hj)

I probably just have a problem with like most romance stories

Favorite scene to write?

I love when characters reference unique worldbuilding things that I actually had to think about. Similarly, if I feel I’m doing them well, exposition dumps can be fun.

Reason for writing?

Because blirbos in my head yearn for freedom

On a more serious note, I’ve gotta do something healthy with all this escapism and maladaptive daydreaming.

—

Questions:

Short stories, novels, or poems?

What genre do you prefer reading?

Are you a planner or a write as I go kind of person?

What music do you listen to while writing?

Favorite books/movies?

Any current WIPs?

Create a character description of yourself:

Do you like incorporating actual people you know into your writing?

Are you kill happy with your characters?

Coffee or Tea while writing?

Slow or fast writer?

If you were in a fantasy world, what would you be?

Most fav book cliche:

Least favorite cliche:

Favorite scene to write?

Reason for writing?

—

Thanks again for the tag!

[just-an-anxious-little-mess]

Plural community, I need your help

(This is going to be a long post but please, I would really appreciate it if you took the time to read through it. Thank you very much, continue)

Hey, hello. I'm reaching out to the D.I.D/OSDD/Plural community in general, I need you guys' help. I have a slight suspicion that I might be an OSDD 1-b system but, my mind just keeps hammering in my head that I'm faking everything, that I'm just actively pretending to have all these symptoms and red flags just so I can sorta "fill the void" of feeling extremely lonely. It wouldn't be the first time I did that to myself- making me think I have a disorder when in reality it isn't true.

So I just need to know... how did you figure out you were a system? What signs should I be wary of? How can you even tell at all? This specially goes for systems with little to no amnesia barriers, since that's my case.

Some of the symptoms -or I guess things I've noticed that made me second guess- are:

I've been through childhood trauma (starting at age 8).

I can't remember my childhood/pre-teen years, specially from ages 10 to 12, only some bits and pieces. That time is a big ass blurr.

I've always referred to myself as "we" ever since, well- I can't really remember when.

I've had times in which I sort of turn into a child, but I can remember everything that happens. Is like there's two versions of me at that moment- the "child" me who's currently in control of the body, and myself, who's always in the back fully aware of what's happening and ready to jump in if anything occours. I thought that was age regressing, but I'm having second thoughts.

I've had times in which I feel like I was some characters of media I like, and I fully feel like I'm... Them. But again, still can remember everything that happens. I recall this one time when I was really distressed about something and suddenly, bam, felt like I was a character and I completely calmed down.

I've had these voices in my head for the longest times, I call them parts of myself. Like one of them particularly is keen of keeping me stable, grounding me if I'm having a panic or anxiety attack, reassuring me everything's gonna be okay, etc. Another part likes to argue about everything I do, having more of a negative outlook of things (this part is actually the one that keeps telling me I'm faking everything). Another part is the child one I was talking about earlier, I can feel her anger and pain and confusion about everything that happened to me.

I am so used to having internal arguments about everything, and I mean everything. I talk myself through my issues by discussing with these different parts.

These past few days, every time I try to do some research about OSDD I feel this awful feeling that I shouldn't, this feeling of panic.

Some reasons of why I think I'm faking everything:

Again, no dissociative barriers between almost everything that I've listed so far.

I have to kinda force myself or force my brain to be able to "listen" to these voices, and they quiet down when I'm focused on something else or I completely forget about them. This leads me to believe I'm imagining it all. If it were truly some sort of dissociative disorder, I would not have control of when I hear them.

If I am truly a system, wouldn't I have noticed it earlier? All of my life I went along living like a singlet, never questioning if I heard voices or not, never showing a symptom. Sure, the whole POINT of a system is to never let the host know, but still.

When I was about 13 I started doing my research on D.I.D (because I'm a huge psychology nerd), and I convinced myself I had that disorder. Even going as far as pretending to have it online. Yeah, I know, I was an asshole. That's why I'm worried I might be doing the same here.

Because of personal reasons, I lost my friend group and ended our relationship with my previous partner. That's why I feel extremely lonely, and that loneliness might lead me to make myself believe I have someone in my head, anyone. That way I won't be alone.

Not proud of this one, but I have to admit... I wanted to be a system when I did my research back in the day. The thought of not being alone anymore, of having someone else to step in like no one did for me when I needed it, of having someone else by my side... I really wanted that. And I'm afraid that desire is clouding my vision of whether I have a disorder or not.

If you got this far, thank you. It means the world. Please, I am open to any answers or advice you wanna give me, I'm desperate at this point. I just really wanna know if I'm faking it or not.

Thank you, sending love.

(Ps. sorry for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes, English is not my first language)

[fandomsoda]

I do not think you’re a bad person, I do think you need to realize you’re part of the problem. People leave for a reason, and yes you do deserve better communication, you also aren’t innocent

I never said that I was.

Listen, I absolutely know that various struggles of mine are part of the equation. I’ve known since almost say 1 of being on this site that I was a total spitfire and needed to start finding a way to get a handle on myself and learn how to shut the fuck up/manage my tone and emotions.

And trust me, the first person I blamed was myself. Even if I still felt what the others did was shitty, I still went “ok if I’m the common denominator, it must be me”. And I’m not saying it’s not. However… I did endless internal searching and battling, I practically tore myself apart trying to figure out what about me was wrong. And of course I could point out my issues I was already aware of, and these were things I was actively working on… but I couldn’t figure out the exact behavior patterns that were the issue, much less how to spot them or curb them.

Because most people, myself especially, can’t solve their own problems all on their own. Self awareness is hard, and once you’ve achieved it, trying to figure out how to change things is even more of a mountain to climb. With the things I have problems with, I’m effectively blind to myself most of the time, and while I’m trying to become more aware of myself I still need people to help me identify my problems. This is something I have been saying up-front for a very long while now, this is a disclaimer most people get when they start getting chatty with me. “Hey, I struggle a lot with regulation and tone, if I screw up let me know”. That’s been part of most first conversations I’ve had with to-be friends.

I’m trying to trudge through things and improve myself by myself as much as I can, but learning is a very slow and painful process and I won’t get there alone. I need someone who actually cares to be willing to talk to me. Because the people who I do talk to acknowledge and see my flaws, but none of them really have the ability to grasp what others’ problem with me is. Of course I’ve come to them with “hey, this is a problem I have, a thing I keep doing, a mistake I keep making, do you have any advice?” and while I’ve gotten some good answers, nothing life changing has come of it.

I need someone who is willing to tell me what’s wrong with me in an actual proper conversation format, I need and want to have these difficult conversations, I want honesty from someone who wants to see me grow. Because the things I get told via anon can’t actually help me. A lot of the time I don’t know what the specific criticisms mean or are referring to, so I need to be able to have a dialogue and ask questions and I shouldn’t have to do that via the damn ask box.

And I know a lot of people have said “well if you’re snappy in public or casual conversation, you’re probably gonna be worse in serious ones”, but at least in my case that’s just not true. I struggle more in casual conversations due to it being just that: casual. I’m watching myself less and it’s harder to catch things if I’m trying to be a bit loose. However, if someone asks me to have a serious conversation? I am sitting down, I am gathering myself, I am watching myself, I put every single break on to try and ensure that conversation is productive and that person is heard.

And yes, I know I can’t expect someone to just come along and start trying to help me fix myself, but I also know that nothing else I have at the moment is doing much. I wish I wasn’t so helpless, I would have fixed myself a long time ago.

Thing is, so far my journey of growing on this site had been going great.. because the first time I had a bad moment on this site, someone didn’t say “what’s wrong with you?”, they asked if I was ok. And I was able to have important and difficult conversations with people, I’ve been able to grow, the people I cared about were also the people who were willing to call me out and tell me what was up without damning me or treating me like garbage.

But for some reason, that’s really not the case anymore. And since this whole thing started, I can feel myself getting worse. The pure mental strain has been making it harder and harder to manage myself, which has just led to more and more problems.

And let me be frank… a lot of the shit that’s gone down can’t solely be blamed as a byproduct of my own behavior. There is no excuse for a lot of this shit.

If someone is genuinely asking you if you’re uncomfortable, if there’s anything they can do to make you more comfortable, if they’ve upset you, if you’re ok, etc, and you chose to lie to that person, then that is on you. No matter how you slice it, that’s your fault. The blame falls squarely on your shoulders for actively choosing to keep that person in the dark. You cannot then get mad at that person for not changing if they didn’t know that anything needed to change and had even been told that everything was good.

And there are many times where I actively chose to handle something in a more mature and nuanced manner due to the fact that my head was clear enough for me to consider that choice, and have been totally flamed for it. When every single adult or more mature person in my life that I told about that situation told me that what I did was the right thing to do. And then I’m called a hypocrite for displaying growth. Total fucking bullshit.

And look, I very much understand that basically everyone involved in this whole mess (myself included) are a bunch of disoriented depressed mentally ill teenagers, and people aren’t always going to handle things well or in a way that makes sense and that’s ok. But that courtesy is never extended to me in these conversations. And even then, like I said, there’s a massive difference between coping with things differently and actively neglecting things.

And most importantly… all these punishments just don’t fit my crimes. What I’ve done doesn’t warrant this level of mental and emotional torture, it really fucking doesn’t.

I know people always look at others bringing up their mental health or emotional pain as some sort of excuse, but I am dead serious when I say that given the amount of physical and mental pain this has caused me, the amount of strain, the amount of pure desolation it’s left me with, a lot of people wouldn’t survive something like this. It’s a pain I wouldn’t wish on anyone, but I genuinely wish I could convey just how terrifying and horrible everything has felt.

This whole mess has left me with scars that may never heal. But to the people who wronged me? This was nothing more than an inconvenience.

The reason that that whole “people are tired of you” anon tipped me off was because… this time I genuinely can’t figure out what I’ve done wrong. Any other day that would have either been something I ignored or would have made me despise myself even more. But this time? I can’t figure out what I did… at the moment it seems like all I did was tell someone that I cared about them too often. And I’m certain that’s not the actual reason, just saying that sounds incredibly stupid and woe is me, but it’s all I can glean right now.

I’m not angry at you anon, and I appreciate it, you seem great and like you would have good advice, but I need you to understand that while I am not innocent, that doesn’t change that what’s happened to me is uniquely wrong, at least from how everything has looked and felt from my end. If this was normal friend break-ups, I wouldn’t resent them so much. I just… I understand where you’re coming from, and change on my end is also very important, but… there’s no such thing as a perfect victim, and I can’t fix myself on my own or in a short period of time.

[midnightmah07]

Hello Mah! ♡

Thank you for following my second blog! I can't wait to start posting on it!

I'm also not too sure how she reached that conclusion tbh??? When I asked her she said it was because they have the same hair color but...I don't think both of them having orange hair makes them siblings lol

But I'm honestly glad that it seems to be just her as it would have been awkward if I paired them up and people thought they were related. I'm currently reading up on Cater just so I can figure out what type of dynamic they would have!

I think I've come with a name for Ruthie's friend! I think I'm gonna go with Adamina (Or Mina for short! Still unsure if she should be referred to by a nickname or her full name!), in reference to the Beast's real name being Adam!

Since Daisy and Isabelle are potential friends of Ruthie, I feel I should warn them that if/when she does get into a relationship, she will be the type to want to go on double dates! (At least once! But of course if they wouldn't want to, she'd understand. She would probably still ask them every once in a while though, even if they tell her no everytime, just in case they might say yes one day!) She can't help it, it's the romantic in her lol

Also I just realized she's kinda like....a fairy godmother in a way? Wanting and helping others find love, matchmaking them and using her unique magic to help them. Wanting them to get their fairytale ending, their "Happily ever after", and not even considering her own...

Idk, just a thought lol

Thank you! ♡

Happy you seem so interested in my Cater suggestion, I mainly said it bc they could be cute, but I do think their personalities would match! Which bonus hehe!

I like Adamina for her friend, it's such a beautiful name! Sounds super lovely, and I see the nod to Adam there as well ofc ofcヾ⁠(⁠���⁠ω⁠･⁠*⁠)⁠ﾉ

Daisy would not mind at all to having a double date, only problem would be to convince Ruggie... But watch her use her puppy dog eyes on him he's gonna let her take him in this date😔 also that's super interesting too bc I read Cater's platinum groovy vignette and both Cater and Ruggie commented on where they'd take someone out on a date, with Cater saying his choice would be a popular sight-seeing spot while Ruggie chose a park to hang out for free. I thought this was super cute so I wanted to mention it since you got into the topic of dates hahah sorry for the tangent!

Isabelle and Leona... Those would be harder😭 Isabelle would love to go on a double date, but her problem is both her and Leona have a complicated relationship, with both of them fighting like nearly all the time and insisting they don't like each other and they're only getting married because they're being forced (which was true in the beginning, but now they're just in plain denial because they don't want to admit their feelings lol). I think because it's with Leona Isabelle would be super shy/embarrassed to even try and invite him on a date, and Leona would find the idea of having to share a date very annoying... Which sighs... It is what it is😭

The fairy godmother aspect is so cute dkdjeiejsj I love me a good fairy godmother character (can you tell? My favorite princess is Cinderella 😭)

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Brother knows best.

You know something Rantaro?

Yeah?

When you told me that you were gonna provide our ride to Mr Kizakura’s home...

This...isn’t exactly what I thought you meant.

Huh? Is there a problem?

Well...

*Shuichi looks out the window of the helicopter he and Rantaro are flying in.

You’re not afraid of heights are you?

No, not really. It’s just...isn’t this a bit much?

I wouldn’t say so. We’ve got a chopper on hand, and an ace pilot~

...

*Nico gives a thumbs up from the seat up front, wearing prescription sunglasses and headphones.

Plus, if we want to get here and back again, we can avoid traffic and train delays like this, right?

Uh huh...I guess when you put it like that...

Don’t worry, it’s fine. Nico’s not gonna go crashing into anything.

We’re on official business 404, refer to me as Agent Static.

Right, right, sorry...

...

You ok? You really that worried about the flight?

No, I’m alright with the flight...I’m just thinking about other things...

Like what?

Just...a lot of self-loathing really...I’m looking back at everything that happened yesterday night and...realizing that I was so stupid...!

...

I don’t quite know for sure if my feelings on the matter have changed but...doing what I did...hitting Kuripa back, calling everyone useless...and hiding from a truth I couldn’t accept.

Hehe...

*Shuichi hangs his head.

I haven’t changed...I’m the same coward I’ve always been...Unable to accept the truth, therefore I question whether it’s right to even reveal it...

But you still did so, right?

...?

I might not have been around to watch for myself, but I’ve heard stories about the things you did. Sounds like a lot of people have reason to thank you.

I’m not going to claim that I’m the reason we survived the Killing Game, Rantaro...If that was the case, more of us would have gotten out alive.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Killing Game’s, it’s this...No matter what, they always take up around 6 chapters of our lives.

Huh?

I’m saying that no matter what, Danganronpa would have gone on for as long as the creators willed it. If something had gone wrong in production, they would have fixed it.

Say Tsumugi dies, they’ll just make someone else the Mastermind and incorporate it into the plot. 

So...the fact that 3 of you got out as opposed to 2? It’s not much better, but it’s still an improvement over the fact.

...

I still feel like I haven’t learned anything...I thought after the Killing Game ended, and we got a chance to live new lives here, I believed I had what it took to help people...

And with Mrs Kyoko taking a shine to me, I thought I could do it...But in the end, I became arrogant and self-centered, and I took things too far...Now in an attempt to rescue the girl I love, I ended up setting us all back...

I ruined everything...

...

*Rantaro pats Shuichi on the shoulder, and turns him around to look in his eyes.

You know what the biggest problem with you is?

...Huh?

it’s not that you’re weak, nor is it that you let your emotions and feelings get the better of you. You’re smart, compassionate, and you’re generally a good guy.

I know you hit some bumps recently, but even the most patient man cannot retain his stance 24/7.

No...the problem with you, Shuichi, and what has always been your biggest weakness...Is that you rely too much on the people around you.

Huh?

Hm...Ok, maybe the more accurate phrasing would be that you’re...too dependent.

I’m not ashamed to rely on my friends. If anything, I think the fact that I have friends who I can be there for, and who will be there for me, is a good thing.

It is! 

But it’s because you think that, that clouds your judgement.

You’ve gotten so used to having people by your side that you assume that you can fall back on them all the time, every time, whenever you’re in a rough situation.

Up until now, that’s been true. Kaede and Kaito in particular always have your back.

But with the current situation...I mean...You get the picture...

Kaede’s not with me and...Kaito is...

To be honest, you sort of pushed him away. I think that might be on you.

...

Too honest? Sorry...

On top of that though, Kyoko has made it hard for you to really rely or depend on anyone, now that she’s cut you off.

I mean...There’s you who’s helping me now, right?

Hahaha!

I’m sorry...Who was it again that said he couldn’t trust me under any circumstance?

...!?

You’re taking back what you said only because I’m the one person who’s still here for you. Do you see the problem now?

...

Trapped in a potential death trap or not, the reality that you can’t accept, Shuichi, is that your friends aren’t always going to be there for you.

I mean...All your friends are striving towards different goals. Kaito wants to go to space, Maki wants to settle down somewhere...Even though you’re all fighting against Zetsubou, they’re all free to make their own choices, and in those situations...They can’t be there for you, and there’s little you can do to help them. 

Not to mention that in those times, you need to decide yourself exactly what you want to make of yourself too.

The more time you have together, the better. You’re happy with your friends and family around you, and I’m in no way saying you should ditch them and start living a life you’re not enjoying.

But there are times in life where you need to deal with problems ALONE. Or times where you need to take charge and be EVERYONE ELSE’S emotional crutch.

And THAT is what you lack, which stops you from being the kind of leader and detective YOU want to be.

...

To be honest, it’s kind of Kyoko and Byakuya’s fault too. Sure, they had good enough reason, given that you saved the Future Foundation from total inside collapse

But the fact that you were able to pull that off doesn’t necessarily mean you have what it takes to be a Branch Chief. We all have different skills for different tasks.

Rich coming from someone who’s good at almost everything.

Hmph! You have no idea! In our world, Agent 404 is as big a noob as they come!

Seriously, he barely even knows how to brush his teeth properly!

Thank you Static...Good to know you care...

But she’s right you know...I get how easy it is to fall for the trap of relying on everyone around you who seems more capable...But if you do that...then you limit how much you yourself can grow.

If you really think you haven’t changed much...I think that may be the reason why.

...

Maybe you’re right...But what can I do to fix that?

Shuichi...asking me would be missing the point entirely.

Only YOU can figure that out...

...

Hey, I think we’re near our location. Anywhere I can safely land this thing?

There’s a park not too far away, just drop us off there. Take off as soon as we’re out so the local police don’t come for you.

Isn’t Himuro-san a member of the government though?

Yes, but for finance. It’s not a good look if she’s using a chopper for her own personal use.

Just let me know when you finish up down there.

Let’s go.

...Yeah...

*knock!* *knock!* *knock!*

Hm?

*Koichi hears a knock at his door, and goes to answer it. Shuichi and Rantaro stand in the doorway, Shuichi akwardly diverting his gaze while Rantaro retains a stern expression.

H-Hello, Mr Kizakura...It’s been a while.

Ah! Young Mr Saihara, nice of you to drop by!

Who’s your friend?

Oh, this is Ran-

Uh! This is Agent 404...of ERR0RM3SS4GE.

ERR0R0M3SS4GE? Isn’t that this...phantom thief hacker group thing that’s been going around lately?

My real name is Rantaro. I’m actually an old friend of Shuichi’s.

...!

You sure you should be telling me that stuff?

Think of it as an equivalent exchange. We have...lots of questions we need to ask you today. And I’m gonna need you to trust me.

Oh yeah? Hehe...What can I help you with?

...

Mr Kizakura...It’s been a while since we last spoke, so I imagine you’re a little out of the loop...But recently, one of our agents was trapped by Organization Zetsubou in a heavy-duty, militaristic lab.

Sounds rough...

Yes...But the reason we’re here is because we think you may have some information.

The trapped agent turned up some old documents that proved the lab was property of the Future Foundation back in the day...and you, sir, were one of the agents who was present in the operations of the lab.

...!

*Koichi’s face becomes serious.

Just to check...did you find out what exactly was going on at that lab?

All we know is that it has something to do with contamination, and that human test subjects were involved. Your name appeared on the documents though, so we figured we’d have to come to you for any more information.

...

Are you willing to let us in to talk?

Just one question...did Kyoko put you up to this?

No. This is a personal investigation. The more we know about the lab, the better.

Though more than likely, I will be reporting the findings of my results to her once the incident is resolved.

...

Hmph...Fine, I guess I’ll bite. Come on in, both of you.

...!

...That was easy.

*Rantaro and Shuichi fist bump as Koichi lets them in his house.

[skippy-reads]

Episode #1:

Iris Kelly Doesn't Date • Ashley Herring Blake

(and by default, its predecessors)

⚠️This book is +18⚠️ Final Rating: 3/10

Disclaimer: Citations will be blurry and crooked, I read a vast majority of this at work with a flimsy paperback library book and sent these to my friends before turning it in and THEN decided i wanted to write a review. Tangents will be in pink

I understand it might be strange to start a book review blog with the finale of a three book series, but rest assured, I read the other two last year and found them to be mostly mid. Boring characters, boring plot, likes to play Queer Utopia dressup games.

One Book: Three Titles

Blake has this...affinity for this specific dynamic of relationship. I'm going to avoid speculating on why, as it's first and foremost not my business and second, not relevant. She is openly bisexual, white and (as far as I know) cisgender.

Each Bright Falls installment features the exact same couple; one lesbian, white, late 20's to early 30's, as gender nonconforming as women's clothing section during pride month or Woxer ad, skinny. She's paired with a bisexual woman, also white, also skinny, also cisgender, high femme and the same age as the lesbian, if not older by a few years, as is the case with IKDD. (I don't remember details like this from DGDC and APDF)

The only slightly notable exception to this would be Jordan Everwood, Astrid's girlfriend from the second book, who the group refers to as "soft butch" at the beginning, as if a short hair style and a buttonup makes someone butch. As if Blake knows anything about the butch experience.

I wouldn't go as far as to say she has no true nonbinary friends, but I highly doubt they've had conversations about what it's like to be trans, what dysphoria feels like, what being trans feels like every single day, and if they have, Blake doesn't care enough about them to make an effort to include them in her stories.

The other exception to this would be Jordan's love interest, and the titular character Astrid Parker. I'm of the opinion that Blake doesn't know her own characters well enough. Astrid Parker is a lesbian, and the book would have been better if this were the case, canonically. I could go on, and I might, but long story short, Astrid experiences comphet at multiple times throughout her life that are textbook lesbian.

She says herself that she never actually liked any of the men she dated and only dated them in the first place for her mother's approval, and has only ever felt romantic love for Jordan, another woman. When she's desperate for advice about her sexuality, she doesn't turn to her best friends of twenty years, two bisexual women, she runs to her estranged step sister, Delilah. They've only recently mended their bond as of a year ago, but what I picked up on is that Delilah is a lesbian, the only lesbian in their group. Astrid is asking for sexuality advice from a lesbian, and doesn't walk away even considering she might be one as well.

Astrid never even calls herself bisexual at any point in any of the books, our only confirmation for this being Blake's twitter with illustration and pride flags. Having a femme lesbian and a double lesbian couple would add a CRUMB of diversity to your main cast of the same cisgender sapphics and would prove that Blake is capable of writing any other kind of sapphic relationship, but alas. This post is not about Astrid.

It's about Iris

I'm gonna be honest; I knew I wasnt going to like this book when I started it. Iris is my least favorite from the Bright Falls friend group, and I dreaded every time her name was mentioned in a chapter. She is loud, vulgar, annoying, and I struggle to think of any reason why her friends keep her around.

That's not to say I kept this opinion by the end of the book. I actually grew to like her more. Surprising, I know! I like that she reads, I like that she draws. I do not believe that her character is a writer, as she is wholly incapable of writing her own novel, just copy and pastes what she and Stevie do and publishes it to a roaring success. Steven King would be proud, Blake. And for her debut novel, of all things! She didn't have a single word written before she met Stevie, and I believe owes Stevie ownership of the IP and a cut of the profits.

So who is Stevie?

Aside from the love interest in a Bright Falls romance, Stevie is no one.

Alright, let's try and be fair. Stevie is an awkward lesbian in her late twenties that struggles to not be defined by her anxiety. However, Blake has done the exact opposite to her character.

Her story begins with her six months after a six YEAR relationship ended after a steady decline of about a year, and is so horny and touch starved that she's "accidentally" nuzzling her ex's neck and sniffing her hair.

We're told she's a "very good" actor by Juilliard graduates and her professors, that her only escape from her debilitating (medicated) anxiety is on stage.

Stevie isn't allowed to be anything other than anxious, blushing, awkward. She has panic attacks in place of character development, fights with her friends who believe she isn't capable of making decisions for herself. Every mistake/decision she makes is excused, explained or justified by her anxiety. When Ren, her best friend, asks why she likes Iris, one of Stevie's first answers is that she "helps work through" her anxiety, who isn't a professional by the way, and anyway Stevie is supposed to be medicated. What are her pills doing if she still has panic attacks this frequently? Why is she not scheduling appointments to get on a different medicine that actually works for her?

This anxiety disappears after her and Iris "work through" her issues, and also disappears after she and Iris have a good fuck.

Telling Instead of Showing

The most emblematic issues I have with IKDD, from a writing stand point, is what Blake chooses to prioritize.

We don't get to see any of these dates. We don't get to see these characters that have spent the entire book falling in love FALL IN LOVE. This is chapter 28, and it begins with a highlight reel of all the amazingly romantic places that Stevie is taking Iris, and we get to see one single sentence of it. There are references to these dates in later parts of the book, but there isn't anymore detail given beyond what you're seeing now.

We're told that this is an argument, that Stevie has never seen these two "bicker" like this, when this exchange reads like a complete regular misunderstanding. Even something as simple as Adri snapped before Van could finish her sentence. or Van asked, genuine confusion coloring her facial features. could have indicated that there is any other emotion other than a hint of misunderstanding. But no, Iris interrupts and the conversation is over.

Again, why don't we see this conversation?? What would you rather be writing in your romance novel other than your leads falling more and more in love?? I understand we can't see every 'walk along the beach' conversation, but why even mention? And then we continue to another dialogue exchange anyway!

Is it because Blake would rather be writing smut scenes??

No, she doesn't seem to really wanna write those either.

So What Else is in the Book?

Our story begins with a chaotic family reunion with the Kelly family, where we're treated to information dump as each and every single one of her siblings, their spouses and their children are named, described and given dialogue within the first two pages. I don't remember a single name of any of them, and they only showed up again near the very, VERY end. Blake does this twice.

At least the theater group comes back two or three times, even if they only get one line a piece between them, IF THAT. This screenshot also leads me to my second biggest issue:

Blake doesn't want to write people of color

Notice how each new character introduced is described with race first, even the white character. This is actually unique to this section, as you typically know a character is white by the lack of mention of race, as opposed to the inclusion. Characters of color are always always described as their race first and foremost, and very rarely receive any other descriptors aside from it. A black man with a septum ring, a black man with glasses, a brown skinned person with--etc. With the lack of diversity in her main cast and this, frankly, infuriating attempt at having a diverse BACKGROUND cast, I've come to the conclusion that Blake is terrified of writing outside her comfort zone and just so happened to find an audience that doesn't give a fuck.

A lot of white people, myself included, are afraid of 'messing up' when writing a non-white character, but this excuse ceases to be valid after you've written three adult romance books, and multiple YA's. At what point are you ready to challenge not only yourself as a writer, but your biases as a white person? As an ally? This isn't at all helped by Blake's usage of words such as "mop" to refer to a POC's hair, or "creamy" when referring to her white character's skin (multiple times!).

I would not recommend this book to any self respecting person of color. You deserve a book that sees you, or is made for you or at least respects you enough to TRY, and learn from mistakes rather than not even bothering in the first place.

Blake doesn't know how to write LGBT+ people either, which is baffling to me. The story is ABOUT Iris Kelly not wanting to form romantic relationships, it's the title of the fucking book. Aromantic people aren't even mentioned until about the halfway point (i wish i would've grabbed a picture) and Iris explicitly tells Stevie that she is NOT aromantic, that she knows she isn't, and that aro people don't need to have their identities shit on, but I have to ask, what is this then?:

Iris has had this spiral, like, six or so times over the course of the book. She gets in regular fights with her friends about how she doesn't need anyone, and her relationship with her mother is strained at the moment because she keeps insisting that Iris hurry up and settle down. Her friends give her the same business, and Iris has the same freak out. The character arc of Iris Kelly is that she loudly, proudly, refuses to form romantic relationships, but says in plain english that it has nothing to do with people on the A-spec.

This book could have been wonderful if it took this premise seriously. Imagine an ending where Iris Kelly DOESNT Date, actually doesn't date. She does the fake dating thing with Stevie, and it re-solidifies her new aro identity. Stevie understands, doesn't catch feelings and they become friends, good friends, hell BEST friends. It might come across that Blake cares about her own community, cares about showing real love and making real strides towards representation, but instead, she looked the aromantic community right in the face and told them "This story is not about or even for you."

It's alright though! Because trans people get the same fuck you! Half of the book's settings and conflict are about a local theater production of Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing, where the director has taken liberties with the cast and made every character queer. Blake thinks this makes her God's gift to the community, and sucks herself off every time the play gets mentioned.

Adri, the director, is given heaps of praise from our main characters about how "powerful" this is, how "beautiful" this representation is, and how much we really needed it. Maybe I'm the Scrooge McDuck of queer books, but does this seriously impress people? Is anyone over the age of 22 feeling seen and touched by this? Because all I taste is cardboard and empty promises. If you need to tell us over and over again how good the representation is in your text, maybe you should have taken an extra few months to come up with another draft. Maybe you should roll your sleeves up and get your hands dirty with actual representation.

Ashley Herring Blake is not God's gift to the sapphic romance section. She's an amateur author who writes the same book over and over again and is lavished with blowjobs from the majority for it.

[kays-kg-works]

Lmao cool arguments, thanks for taking zero accountability during like any of that for yes - going after individuals. The crusade bit? The definition of ‘crusade’ is ‘a vigorous campaign for political, social, or religious change.’

If I see people on here making direct accusations and getting called out about it, even if it’s against someone I don’t follow and have never directly interacted with before to my knowledge where the accused seems nice enough and is trying to provide proof of their innocence while you’re out here literally demanding further proof because you claim their initial one was insufficient for you to stop being a dick about it?

Yeah, I take issue with that.

Also, I don’t care if you’ve been ‘mostly inactive for over a year’ - if you have followers who are gonna see that and YOU are their acquaintance, friend, mutual, or fave and/or they don’t have critical thinking skills? Then yeah it is kinda your fault if one or more of those people wanders off and harasses that person based on your potentially flawed testimony.

Also, I never said I supported Madasama, anywhere in my reblog or mentioned them at all, even though I did see their reply to your post - I just said I didn’t support you going and accusing individuals without proof. Though it is funny to me that you used them as an example of ‘You think people who use AI have the decency to own up to what they’re doing???’ when Madasama... literally in that reply to your post openly said ‘Yeah I use AI for my work, what about it’.

Seeing everything in black and white kinda... sucks, historically speaking, and while you seem to think that it’s impossible, I’m here to tell you that... you can dislike something without taking it upon yourself to shame, call out, demonize, or otherwise rail against individuals that you see engaging in that behavior. Or in this case, people you think you see engaging in that behavior. You are not some divine authority on what human-driven art should look like and have already admitted that the tools you used later to try and prove that image was AI-generated aren’t always right so the fact remains that neither of us has true proof on our stances.

In my personal experience, it super duper sucks to be accused of what essentially amounts to art theft after putting time and effort into a piece - someone I considered my best friend at one time accused me of tracing a piece of their art when I did a sketch of their character for them because the nose looked too similar to the one they’d drawn, and on another sketch where I’d had a photo reference up to the side while drawing which is something I don’t usually do so surprise surprise - the image turned out looking different than my usual sketching style.

They only backed down after I literally laid the photo-referenced sketch over the original image to show them how off some of the proportions were in comparison - one eye right on but the other lower and slightly tilted, head shorter and a bit wider, etc. Initially, I brushed it off as “Oh, they’re just protective of their art and their reputation and it’s for their webcomic so they don’t want us to get in trouble and wanted to make sure I wasn’t up to no good :)” But the more I thought about it, the more it was like...

“Huh... this person really thought I would do that to them...”

Obviously the situation is different here in that you’re two strangers on the internet, but my point is that if you’re wrong?? You are directly harming someone who’s just taken a bunch of time and energy to make something and put it out into the universe only to be told essentially “Oh I know you didn’t make that because you aren’t that good and it looks too different from your normal stuff, why don’t you stay in your box if you don’t want people to think you’re a liar and a fake?” and no amount of apologizing afterwards if they DID provide you proof would put you back in their/my good graces.

For the sake of protecting my peace? I will no longer continue to interact with you, because you seem far more determined to maintain your stance on the issue that you are good and right and should definitely be doing this than I have the patience to dispute. I’ve got too many things to be doing with my time that are more important than sitting here arguing with you about whether it’s good to potentially bully someone off a platform in the name of ‘justice’.

And in case you take my future silence as proof that I’m wrong and you’re right like you tried to do with Skykashi?

Good job, you defeated me 🙄 Enjoy the view from your high horse, Grand Inquisitor

Logging in after a busy weekend irl, and seeing no further responses from @skykashi presumably they've blocked me after I asked to see the layers of the artwork. I was anticipating it, but it's really funny nonetheless.

The easiest and simplest way to disprove my theory would've been to post a screenshot of all the layers in the art file, or better, in a video like here, but instead they went off on a lengthy 30 min video about irrelevant topics.

At the end of the day, they know what they have done, and no amount of defensive posts or deflection will take away from the truth. AI art obtained by a few clicks of the mouse for social media validation may feel nice temporarily, but I hope one day they truly improve their skills to match those of the artist they entered as prompt on mid\journey or the likes.

Going forwards, they will either have to use AI for all their future arts to maintain style consistency (or rather, inconsistency, since they said in their explanation vid that their style actually varies dramatically as per their wishes, which is. Cool?)

Or, the more desirable, but less likely route - they'll revert to their original art style, in which case, AI won't be used, which was the original point of the conflict.

[7-wonders]

Kiss With a Fist

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x Reader

Summary: Normally, Dream is above mortals and their petty quarrels, but when one decides that he wants to play with fire, Dream is more than prepared to burn him. That is, until you have something to say about it.

Word Count: 4.1k

Notes: I've wanted to write something about you pulling a Hob Gadling and fighting off someone wanting to attack Dream for a while now. Here it is. Basically you're a badass and you fight a drunk guy trying to pick a fight with Dream. Let me know your thoughts!

(Reader is referred to with she/her pronouns)

We begin…in the Waking World, which is not, in his opinion, an ideal place to be.

Though the Burgess lineage has been snuffed out and Dream of the Endless is far too powerful to ever find himself captured by a mortal again, he still feels a touch of trepidation upon his trips outside of his realm. How could he not, after one such visit went so spectacularly wrong and ended up with him trapped for over a century?

Having reminders of the good of humanity certainly helps ease his apprehension, which is why he typically finds himself with some sort of companion when he leaves the safety of the Dreaming. Most of the time, Matthew is a mere stone’s throw away at all times. If not Matthew, then Dream has increasingly found himself seeking the company of his friend, Hob Gadling.

You’re the most “human” of them all; though both Matthew and Hob were, at one point, completely and utterly mortal, that is no longer the case. You, however, are. He would argue that’s perhaps what makes you so fascinating, but he knows that’s not entirely true. There are a great many things that make you fascinating to him, and your mortality is probably the least of those.

It’s his predilection towards you that has landed him here in the first place, at what you called an “upscale bar” for a friend’s birthday party. To be fair to you, it’s not as if you hadn’t given Dream multiple opportunities to decline your invitation. You even bluntly told him, among other things, that it was almost certain he would not enjoy himself at a mortal event such as this and you were perfectly fine going by yourself.

But no, he had to insist that he would play the role of doting “boyfriend” (which he was, though he preferred terms to describe your relationship that sounded much less juvenile) and accompany you to this celebration. After two grueling hours, he can honestly say that he does not understand why anybody would torture themselves by willingly stepping foot into such an establishment. Between the bone-shaking bass of the music that is unnecessarily loud, the patrons whose wildly inappropriate, alcohol-steeped daydreams stick to Dream like molasses, and the harsh lighting that continues to change depending on the beat of whatever garish song is playing, he’s seen enough to last him five human lifetimes.

He tries to hide his disdain, knowing that you’re enjoying yourself and your night. ‘Tries’ being the key word here: after the fifth person who visibly jumps in fear when they see Dream’s piercing glower, it’s evident that this attempt is not working in the slightest. Whether you’ve finally noticed this or you just decide to take pity on him, he’s not sure.

Regardless, you lean into him and ask, “Are you doing okay?”

“I would like to get some air,” he says, being heard clearly by you despite not having to raise his voice above the music. He’s relieved when you nod; Dream was never a particularly social creature, but that desire for solace increased tenfold after he freed himself from his glass cage.

“We can head out, actually. I’ve socialized long enough.”

Dream could actually cheer at this. Since it would be entirely uncouth of him to do so, he continues to look nonchalant. “Do not feel that you need to end your night early on my account.”

“I’m not! I’m tired and I’d rather go home with you now. I’m gonna close my tab, if you wanna go wait outside for me!”

He very much wants to go wait outside for you, and with one last squeeze of your hand, he separates from you and leaves you to finish paying for your drinks.

There’s something inherently calming to Dream about the evening hours. It may be that the world seems to become more peaceful after the sun sets, or that the majority of dreamers enter his realm at this time. It could even be the fact that this is Mother Night’s domain, complicated as their relationship may be. Whatever the reason, Dream is particularly fond of this time of day, and he enjoys the sudden tranquility after such a hectic environment.

Unfortunately, said tranquility lasts only momentarily before a shadow crosses over towards Dream and he meets the bloodshot eyes of a mortal man. He’s average in every way, from the backwards cap to the scuffed shoes stained with unidentified liquids. A ‘frat boy,’ you would call him. Though the shadows warp behind him as he attempts to scare him off as he did to the others inside the bar, this man remains uncowed by his expression.

“Hey, I saw you earlier at the bar.” Dream scowls, for he did have an encounter with this particular human inside the establishment, and he did not enjoy one second of it. “Yeah, I offered to buy your girl a drink, didn’t I? Then you shoved your way in between us, which was rude. I was just trying to be friendly!”

“Silence, mortal.” He’s had enough of this conversation, if it can even be called that, and glances in the direction of the entrance to see if you’re making your exit. In the process, he sees the man’s expression morph into something ugly, something vengeful. He’s not sure why, considering he has not been insulted; after all, Dream simply called him what he is, which is a mortal. 

“The fuck did you just call me?”

Instead of actually bothering with a response, Dream attempts to move away from the wall in order to find you, having had enough of playing this game. The mortal man’s hand lands on his shoulder and stops him from achieving that goal. Dream simply glances at it, deciding that, actually, it has been a good while since he properly frightened a mortal in any realm.

“Why ya tryin’ to leave? I just wanted to have a friendly chat.” The man’s breath reeks of cheap alcohol, and Dream’s lip curls in disgust.

“No, I think not.”

“Hey!” Both heads snap towards the bar’s entrance, where you’re emerging from the door and marching closer towards them. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The mortal man smirks, finding amusement in the fact that you’re now involved. “Get outta here, bitch. This doesn’t concern you.”

Dream has half a mind to incite his nightmares on this boor of a man just for the crude insult (how dare he even think to disrespect the future consort of the Dreaming in such a way), but you’re speaking before he can properly make a decision. “Yeah it does. Leave him alone.”

The man smirks and rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to Dream. “What, you need your girlfriend to fight your battles for you?”

“I’m trying to protect you here,” you say with a laugh, knowing that Dream doesn’t need anyone to do anything for him. “Take your hand off of him and go.” 

As you walk past him, you knock your shoulder against the man’s, who goes stumbling back with his arms pinwheeling at his sides as he attempts to keep his balance. Either you’re stronger than you look, or the man is drunker than he lets on; Dream is willing to bet that it’s a combination of both.

“I’m not gonna tell you again, dude.” 

Gently, you grab Dream’s hand and pull him away from the wall. He allows you to do so–though he can deny it all he wants, he certainly doesn’t mind when you fuss over him. Sure enough, he watches as you scan him up and down for any sign of injury, seeming to forget that he cannot exactly be injured by a mere mortal.

“Are you okay?” 

Were they in private, Dream would laugh (he’s found himself doing a lot more of that lately–laughing) and assure you that nothing so paltry as a mortal attempting to provoke him had caused him any harm or upset. As it is, he simply nods, taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it.

Unfortunately, mortal men seem to love violence. This should not be surprising, considering his brother is—was—Destruction, but it’s something that tends to slip his mind due to how little time he actually spends among them. When they are robbed of the opportunity to inflict said violence on their intended target, they become enraged. 

This is no different for this mortal man, whose face turns a surprising shade of red in anger. As Dream turns with you to leave, he allows his natural eyes to appear through the blue ones that he wears when in the Waking. Black pits appear in their place, the stars that are normally there completely snuffed out. Petty, but he cannot resist making the last move.

This works against his favor, however, when the mortal man takes a swing at Dream.

For an immortal, anthropomorphic personification, Dream has not found himself in many fights through his long life. He should rephrase that: he has not found himself in many street fights through his long life. Battles, he’s had his fair share. Glorious battles, either those like the Oldest Game where wit is the weapon or those where he was fighting for a purpose, be it love or honor or his realm. 

But battles are skilled; there’s an art to them, an understanding on each side of the formalities and the pomp and circumstance that goes into it all. Though they may be enemies, the foes carry with them a certain integrity that extends to the conflict. In fact, as far as Dream is aware, mortal military campaigns are fought a lot like this as well. Alleyway brawls most certainly do not carry any of this.

Humanity changed, as humanity is wont to do, in the century plus that Dream found himself a prisoner in an English countryside basement. However, the century of imprisonment had to align with one of the centuries that underwent the most societal change. Though Dream very much enjoys watching as humanity evolves, he enjoys watching it as it happens, not learning about it in retrospect. As a result, he has felt woefully behind when it comes to modern standards; a fact which the few mortals or former mortals he knows love to focus on. Not that he wants to sound every bit as old as he is, but before his imprisonment, ladies most certainly did not fight.

All of this is important knowledge to keep in mind for the coming events.

The man’s hit, meant for Dream, connects against your cheek as a result of you shoving Dream out of the way before he can truly process what’s about to happen. He wants to tell you to stop, wants to blow sand in the face of this man and follow through on his silent threat to give him his worst nightmares, but…something stops him. A not-unpleasant warmth in his stomach that begins to bloom as he watches you ball your hands into fists, obviously preparing to fight back against this man. 

A few bystanders audibly wince when you punch your adversary’s jaw, making his head snap back. Curses fall from his lips as he swings again, but you manage to grab a fistful of his shirt collar when you duck and his fist hits your forehead. This advantage means that this will be the last hit he gets on you. 

With a yank of the fabric, the shirt goes up over his head and serves both to blind him as well as to make it difficult for him to move away from you. He’s more focused on attempting to free himself from your hold than he is hitting you again, and when he finally does regain his sight, he sees your fist hurtling towards his face.

The last punch is a direct hit to the mortal’s nose, blood immediately beginning to drip down his face and onto the ground. Both the pain and the shock of it send him falling backwards onto the ground, where he groans pathetically and clutches at his wounded face. From above, you breathe heavily and shake out your dominant hand, a look of disgust on your face as you stare down at the enemy you’ve taken down with ease.

In all, the actual fight lasts less than half a minute. Dream, however, believes that he shall think of said fight for the rest of his eternal fight.

“Bitch,” the mortal spits out again, the insult the only weapon he has left in his arsenal.

“Don’t forget it, either.” You grab Dream’s hand again, this time pulling him away from the small crowd that’s beginning to form on the sidewalk. “C’mon, we gotta get outta here before someone calls the cops.”

Dream demeans himself and actually runs alongside you, but only until there are no more humans in sight. He pulls you to a stop then, taking his sand out of his coat and tossing a handful in the air. Between one blink and the next, he’s safely inside your Waking apartment with you. Shaking your head a couple of times to clear the double vision in your eyes, you finally look over at him.

“I’m so sorry, I really didn’t think you’d get stuck dealing with some drunk idiot who–oof!” 

Dream cuts off your rambling by shoving you against the wall of your bedroom and proceeding to kiss you as though it’s been years since he last laid his lips against yours. You stiffen under him for a moment before your body goes lax, hands curling around the lapels of his coat as you lean into him and attempt to eliminate any modicum of space between your bodies. It’s only when he can hear you beginning to try and take desperate little pants in an attempt to get air into your lungs that he pulls his lips from you, though this doesn’t last for long.

“Do you have any idea,” he pauses to press another series of heated kisses to you, “what seeing you fight that man did to me?”

“...I’m confused. Are you mad?”

“Mad?” Dream scoffs. “How could I be mad, when you defended my honor in such a way. Me, who could have sent the mortal to the Nightmare Realm with barely a glance. I am more powerful than the gods themselves, yet you fought for me without so much as a second thought. No, I am not mad at you. I find myself rather infatuated with you at this moment, in fact.”

“As if you’re not infatuated with me all the time?” He silences your snark with more kissing, which you gladly accept for another few moments.

“Dream,” you finally mumble against his lips. 

When he doesn’t answer, you try again. 

“Morpheus.”

He still doesn’t answer, nor does he make any movement to let you know he even heard you. Finally, you push at his chest to get his attention. 

“While I’d love to continue doing this, my lip is split and it really hurts to kiss you right now.”

Dream steps away from you sheepishly. It’s not often that his control falters in such a way, and it only ever does so when he’s in your presence.

“I apologize,” he says remorsefully. If there’s one thing that Dream hates, it’s causing pain to those dearest to him, of which you are the most dear.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything, you couldn’t have known it hurts. I should probably clean myself up, though.” He follows you into your bathroom, where you turn on the faucet and grab a clean cloth off of the towel rack.

“Allow me to help you with your wounds?” Dream asks.

Healing others is not one of his many powers, and you know that. Still, he wants to be of assistance, and so you point to the closet in the corner. “There’s a first aid kit on the bottom shelf of the closet, if you wouldn’t mind grabbing that?”

Dream hasn’t the faintest idea what a first aid kit actually is, but since he’s trying to be helpful, he simply goes off in the direction that you pointed him towards. When he comes back with the bright red bag (he knows enough from dreams to know that the white cross on the front means medical aid), you’re dabbing blood off of the back of your hand with a damp cloth.

“I did not realize that your hand was injured, as well,” Dream says.

“What can I say? Fucker had a hard head.”

He frowns. “I really wish that you would not use such crass language. It’s very unbecoming.”

“You love it and you know you do.”

Dream’s hands skim over the different medical supplies, unsure of what will help or hurt, or even what each item’s intended use is. This confusion must be rather obvious, for you simply have him hold the kit open as you grab whatever is needed and set it out on the counter next to you. He watches, silently and with utter fascination, while you grab a small cotton round and dab some sort of antibiotic on it before you begin to carefully apply it to your knuckles.

He takes this time to actually catalog the injuries you had sustained while fighting for him. In addition to the webbing of surface-level cuts on your knuckles, two wide bruises are already beginning to discolor your skin, one stretching along your cheekbone and the skin below your right eye and the other on your forehead up into your hairline. The ‘split lip’ as you called it, does look rather painful, and he feels bad to have exacerbated that pain. The skin is quite literally split down both your upper and lower lip, dark red blood pooling on the surface. It’s swollen, and another bruise forms on top of the swelling.

Again, Dream feels his heart, which does not work like that of a human’s, clench painfully. You’ve bled to protect him, injured yourself just to keep him safe. He does not know how he could ever repay you for such a kindness, though you’ll assuredly attempt to convince him that you don’t need any sort of repayment.

For Dream, this repayment starts by being the one to take care of you. Now that he’s watched you care for one wound, he can easily mimic your movements as he takes the washcloth you’re running under the tap water and gently presses it to your lip. You wince under his touch, but allow his hand to remain there.

“Where did you learn to fight in such a way?” Dream asks after you’ve nodded that enough time has passed for him to remove the cloth from your mouth.

You shrug. “I was bullied in middle school and it started to get kind of physical–nothing too bad, just mean girls shoving me around or stepping on my heels so that I’d trip and fall.” It sounds far worse than ‘nothing too bad,’ and Dream almost wants to ask you for the names of your childhood tormentors so that he may give them a taste of their own medicine. “Still, my dad wanted to teach me to defend myself, just in case it got any worse.”

“He taught a child to fight?” Dream scoffs in disbelief, one hand gently holding your chin in place while he uses the other to apply the antibiotic to your lips.

“I was twelve, first of all, and it’s not like he was encouraging me to go up to these girls and knock them out. It was a last-resort sort of thing,” you say when he’s finished tending to that cut.

His hand gently skims along the bruise on your cheek, and you can’t stop your reflexes as your hand darts out to grab at his wrist and stop him. He aborts what he was doing, instead grasping your own hand and pulling you to him as he just barely lays his lips on top of the bruise and lets them linger there. He can hear your breath catch in your lungs as he does so, and it makes him smirk just slightly.

When Dream finally pulls away, your body unconsciously tries to follow him as you mourn the loss of his closeness. He asks, “Might I continue to attend to you, my protector? My warrior?”

“Uh, um,” you stutter, trying desperately to remember how to speak. Dream finds it incredibly endearing. “The, uh, I have ice packs in the–in the freezer. For my face? They’re blue, and they should be stacked on top of each other.”

“Go lay down so that you may rest,” he commands. “I shall be back momentarily.”

You describe items well enough that finding whatever it is you request is an easy task, the ice packs being no different. Perhaps Hob Gadling was right to marvel over human inventions at most of the pair’s early meetings. There is something rather fascinating about the resourcefulness of creating something that can be kept cold specifically to help with injuries. 

When Dream returns to you, you’ve done as he asked as are laying against the pillows of your bed to rest. He’s unsure of how you apply said ice packs, and hands them to you instead and watches as you lay one on each bruise. Though you recoil from the cold at first, you soon sigh and relax under it. 

“Will you lay with me?” you ask. 

Dream is not one to turn you down for most things, and he especially will not deny you of this request. He wraps himself around you, black coat billowing out and covering both of you. He knows that it’s only your face that has sustained the brunt of your injuries, but he still tries to be cautious with you just in case.

It’s not exactly resting when you’re on your phone watching the videos that, while they make no sense to Dream, make you laugh, but you’re safe and in his arms, so he won’t say anything to you about the importance of proper rest. Instead, he allows himself to simply think. About you, about him, about this night.

“You need not have come to my defense,” he says suddenly upon remembering what it is he had wanted to say to you earlier, before he was overcome with the need to kiss you. Distantly, he’s reminded of the last time he said such a phrase, and his lips tilt up at the memory.

“Hmm?” You don’t quite know what he means, his statement coming from out of nowhere.

“I was in no danger, yet you so valiantly defended me from the mortal. Why?”

“Because he was going to hurt you.” You say it as if it’s the most obvious conclusion in the world. The sky is blue, water is wet, you fought the man because he was going to hurt Dream.

“He would not have gotten the chance.”

You sigh. “I know that you’re all-powerful and whatnot, but…when you love someone, sometimes that doesn’t matter. Someone was attempting to attack you, and so I decided that I wasn’t going to let them. You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”

“I very much would. However, it’s a little different for me than it is for you.”

“Why? Because I’m a woman?”

He begins to uncharacteristically stammer in an attempt to explain himself. “No, that’s not–I would never–you–”

You cut him off with a laugh before he can make an even bigger fool of himself. “I’m just teasing you.”

“You are cruel to your monarch, my love.”

“Not my monarch, I’m afraid,” you say cheekily, a smile on your face. “Last I checked, I’m not one of your subjects.”

It will never cease to amaze Dream just how at peace he feels when in your presence. On the rare occasion that conversations start out serious, they devolve into something quaint and full of soft touches and teasing jokes at your hands. Even after he sees you into the Dreaming and has returned the now-melting ice packs to your freezer, he feels this way.

Suddenly, he’s struck with the ‘why’ of it all. He feels at home here. No, he feels at home with you. Being with you is like coming home after a long journey and getting to sleep in your bed again for the first time in months. You’re his comfort, his safe place.

Perhaps, in some cases, the Waking World is an ideal place to be.

[indiaalphawhiskey]

Love of my Life, a (different) reading

I want to start this off by saying that I love the idea that Harry Styles wrote a song called Love of my Life about Louis Tomlinson. Love it, love it, love it; love anyone and everyone who interprets this song that way, and this analysis is in no way meant to invalidate that understanding of it.

This is just a personal interpretation, based on which parts of the song resonate the most with me, my understanding of Harry’s writing style, the theme of the album, and which lyrics/words/lines (and tenses) called my attention the most.

That said…

…is Love of my Life actually about privacy and freedom? (This is gonna get long, more under the cut.)

❣️Based on Harry’s writing style:

I spoke a little about Harry’s writing patterns and vocabulary, but one thing that we’ve also noticed over the last three albums is that Harry speaks about people in a very layered way:

‘You’ is usually used as a gender-neutral song subject.

‘She’ and similar words (woman, angel) are more often a reference to himself.

‘Him’ and similar words (boyfriends) volley between a reference to himself or to a possible third person.

It’s obviously not always the case (and we have no way to verify), but Harry hardly ever writes in a way that’s on the nose, so following this pattern, personifying things like privacy and freedom by referring to them as the ‘love of his life’ fits into his pattern of layered writing.

❣️Based on the themes of the album (self-reflection):

“He’s been thinking a lot recently about autonomy, ownership, privacy. About what he should be able to keep to himself, what he should be able to simply communicate through his music without follow-up questions or prying.”

— Better Homes and Gardens

❣️Based on verb tenses:

“You were the love of my life.”

Let’s assume, for the sake of this post, that it really is ‘were’ and not ‘are’. (I always hear ‘were’, myself, but I also don’t claim to have bionic hearing, so don’t take my word for it.)

Why would Harry write one line in past tense, and the rest of the lyrics in present?

There are two ways to read it. Either:

(i) the ‘love of his life’ (person) is no longer the love of his life, but is still currently present in his life, or

(ii) he’s speaking about the ‘love of his life’ (privacy/freedom) in a nostalgic way, as if it’s not consistently accessible/available to him in his current life, but rather something that comes and goes — that he’s only able to experience in small, finite increments.

And, finally,

❣️Based on lyrics: [lyrics in bold, interpretation in italics]

(Thank you @angelsueishome for the lyrics, although I changed ‘are’ to ‘were’ based on what I hear.)

Baby, you were the love of my life

Oh, maybe, you don’t know what’s lost ‘til you find it

— the common phrase is ‘don’t know what you have ‘til it’s gone’ and the direct reversal of those themes hints at Harry having found the love of his life (privacy/freedom) again in this new situation (lockdown)

Take a walk on Sunday through the afternoon

We can always find something for us to do

We don’t really like what’s on the news, but it’s on all the time

— if you read ‘we’ here as ‘Harry and his privacy/freedom’, the stanza is pretty straightforward

Take you with me every time I go away

In a hotel using someone else’s name

— ‘you’ as privacy/freedom, again the lines are straightforward

I remember back at Johnny’s place

It’s not the same anymore

— someone mentioned he has a childhood friend named Johnny (though I’m not sure how true), but if we read the line as his nostalgia for his life before fame and how that level of privacy/freedom isn’t accessible to him anymore, it makes sense

Baby, you were the love of my life

Oh, maybe, you don’t know what’s lost ‘til you find it

It’s not what I wanted, to leave you behind,

Don’t know where you land when you fly

But baby, you were the love of my life

— three things to note here: (i) resistance to leaving ‘you’ (privacy/freedom) behind, (ii)‘flying’ as a reference to his fame and the interesting use of ‘land’ (when usually, the opposite of ‘fly’ is ‘fall’), so there’s a connotation of positivity, control and even relief, in the come down to earth (from fame), and (iii) the use of ‘but’ for the first time, signifying the acknowledgement of yearning and slight regret

It’s unfortunate,

Just coordinates

— possibly a reference to how any knowledge of his location (by paps, by fans) is usually how his privacy/freedom is taken away from him

I don’t know you half as well as all my friends

I won’t pretend that I’ve been doing everything I can

To get to know your creases and your ends

Are they the same?

— two things to note: (i) ‘you/your’ as privacy/freedom and how there’s a difference between how he experiences these things (in finite amounts) versus how his friends are able to experience them (consistently), (ii) an admission that, for however much he yearns for it, he’s not ready to give up what he has (fame) to get it back, and (iii) questioning whether privacy/freedom looks/feels/is exactly the same as what it used to be to him.

— — —

Anyway, whew! That took a lot out of me.

TL;DR: I think Love of my Life is a song about Harry’s nostalgia for his privacy and freedom.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

LO$ER=?, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Life is just a path and you walk it. Until Jeon Jungkook. He made you run, sprinting through winding side roads and alleys, fighting, bleeding, losing. Your paths split, but life is made of orbits. Now that they have overlapped once more, his hand is fiercely holding yours and he won't let go again. Nothing matters if he's with you. Thus, you run once more, laughing like you've gone mad.

continuation of 0X1=?, m | jjk – click here to read

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of sexual assault (not heavily described, however, please note reader is the victim of said assault); actually predominantly fluff; mentions of previous angst; mentions of physical fighting; smut (fem reader, fingering, cowgirl, scratching / marking, penetrative sex); non-idol!BTS - tattooed, previously rich!Jungkook x rebellious!reader (mostly reader's POV, a tiny bit of JK's POV), ft cameo of Kim Taehyung as JK’s best friend and crossover with 'bao, t/m | myg' au

yes, I waited until the TXT's 'LO$ER=LO♡ER' was released to write this XD there's a ton of TXT references as well, enjoy!

--

now playing – LO$ER=LO♡ER by txt

"Jeon Jungkook! Yah! Jeon Jungkook! Come out of that whore's home!"

You were about to remove the groceries from your front seat, but then you stopped at the shouting, peering up at the second story of the apartment complex to see… ah, yes, a young woman yelling at your front doorstep. One look at the imported, Western, black car with heavily tinted windows and you were well aware that the woman in a matching designer two-piece – a ruffled pink suit jacket and flared skirt – complete with immaculately pulled back hair in a half-ponytail must be...

She turned around, fuming, pretty features twisted in rage, and screamed in frustration.

You quickly jerked your head back out of her line of sight and clicked your tongue.

Your boyfriend's ex-fiancé had some lungs on her.

You waited until she finished shrieking like a banshee and peered out to see her spin on her heel and return to pounding on your apartment door with her small, manicured fists. You spotted her beige, black cap-toed slender heels.

Chanel.

Huh.

You stayed in your car.

Reached over to your bag and pulled out the single ice cream you bought to share with Jungkook but, at this rate, you would have to buy another. You pulled off the cap and folded it in half, curving it like a spoon, and began to eat the mango sorbet. Hm, well, it was better this way. Jungkook would probably prefer chocolate or straight up diabetes over mango sorbet.

He would eat pretty much anything though.

You scooped up some of the frigid, melting sweet into your mouth and watched his ex-fiancé shout at no one.

True, you could go up there and throw her down the stairs. But there was something hilarious about this, her beating and howling at your apartment door, completely ignoring the fact that no one was answering it and that she was very clearly causing a public disturbance, all because of her own personal problem.

You glanced up to watch her slide down the door, openly crying now. You pressed the button of your car window to roll it down a crack to listen to her sobbing above you.

"–can't believe you would do this to me... you know I need this marriage... my family's company depends on it..."

You slowed, licking off your makeshift spoon.

"I'll be left with nothing... nothing unless I get married..."

Crocodile tears or not, the woes of the rich did not earn much sympathy with you.

You rolled your window back up, leaving your car on idle for the air conditioning.

It was a mix of previously being constantly berated by Jungkook's wealthy parents that now exiled him over a fucking eyebrow piercing and being a member of the working, lower middle class. For some reason, that latter fact was also offensive to Jungkook’s parents. Everyone was accepting until money got involved. You hummed, eating another scoop. You didn’t like it, but you understood that his parents wouldn’t believe that you have no interest in their money. What you didn't understand was why his ex-fiancé was so hellbent on yelling at your door. From what you could tell, she wasn't ugly. Couldn't she find someone else?

You scraped the last of your small ice cream out and ate it up.

You checked your phone.

Jungkook wouldn't be out of work for at least another three hours. You had found him a job at the local bao shop through your own job as an accountant. You assisted the family in sorting the finances for their small business and personal tax forms. The owner had back surgery and so the daughter had been working there by herself with one other employee that delivered the orders. They wanted to hire another to help with cooking and cleaning, perhaps even open up the front counter again to accept pick-up orders instead of only delivery. However, it was hard to find someone trustworthy and reliable. The best way was through word of mouth.

They won't mind my tattoos?

Whenever I drop by, the delivery guy is wearing a leather jacket, ripped jeans, and has a resting bitch face. You'll be fine. Also, I think the daughter and him are dating.

Jungkook had blinked at you.

You know. In case they disappear for ten minutes, unexplained.

You loved Jungkook's laugh.

He didn't complain or whine for some other job. He only asked when he started and how to get there. You bought him a secondhand bicycle and he was off to work, five to six days a week. Sometimes you would drop him off with your car if was too rainy. Occasionally, when he had to stay late for a large order, the delivery guy would drive Jungkook and his bike back home.

That's how it was here, in the world of everyone else, minus the rich.

The fuck is all this?

Manager gave me a bunch of leftovers. She said I'm a fast learner. Did you know Taehyung stops by there? He's never said shit! He said it was his little secret, that ass–

You smiled as you remembered Jungkook's animated face and annoyance at his best friend for not sharing what he thought was crucial information. Jungkook would speak excitedly, hauling a bag of buns and spilling them over your clean kitchen counter, scrambling to catch them as he explained the different ones to you and how they were made, telling you all the things he was learning and funny stories about customers.

You almost forgot this Jungkook.

It was strange, feeling something after such a long time of feeling nothing, strange to find your time occupied once again by him, when at many times you vowed not to get involved with Jungkook anymore, only for him to show up and make you throw your promises to yourself to the wind, recklessly chasing the anger, wondering, hating, loathing how much you still loved him after he left, recalling him standing there, stone silent as his parents' verbal lashes ripped you to shreds.

You turned the car off, pulling the keys out and pocketing them, not wanting to the drain the battery.

Maybe.

Maybe you were stupid for loving him so much.

Maybe you were as pathetic as the woman up there in some ways.

Then again.

Maybe that was just how everyone lived.

You heard a soft tap by your car window.

You jerked your head to see Jeon Jungkook, in the flesh, peering at you through the glass, clutching his bike. You could see half of his head, short black hair and large, curious brown eyes, nose pressed up to the bottom of your car window. He was wearing his work clothes, light wash jeans and an aqua blue t-shirt, lightly dusted in flour. He pointed up and you noticed his ex-fiancé had switched back to yelling at the door, no longer facing the street.

You shooed him back and opened the car door, eyes wide.

"Why are you home?" you whispered, crouching down to speak to him.

He grabbed your hand, gasping as he gripped it. You shivered at the coldness of his fingers, but there was a warmth in between your and his frozen palms, melting each other.

"Oh, shit, your hand is so cold!"

"So is yours!"

"I was biking! My hands get cold from the wind. What's your excuse?"

You held up the empty mango sorbet container in your other hand, shifting your eyes guiltily.

"And you didn't share?!" Jungkook hissed, his windswept hair giving him a fierce appearance, dismay clear in his glistening dark brown orbs despite trying to sound angry.

You spied his other hand on his bike. There was a large, wrapped bandage on his left forearm. You ticked your chin towards it, furrowing your brows. "What happened?"

"Ack, I burned myself and manager-nim told me to go home early. I told her I could still work, but there were only a few hours left and it seemed like she wanted to be alone with Yoongi-hyung..."

You raised your eyebrows.

"What are they gonna do, bonk in the kitchen?"

"You wouldn't want to bonk me in the kitchen?"

You grinned at him and Jungkook grinned back, eyebrow piercing flashing in the sun.

"JEON JUNGKOOK!"

"Oh shit–"

You scrambled out of your car, locking it, slamming the door as the young woman wailed his name and pointed at you and him, furiously wiping her tears.

"You bitch! How dare you take him from me! He was mine! I had him wrapped around my finger!" She hiked up her skirt and swiftly power-walked to the stairs, looking back to yell more at you as Jungkook placed his bicycle down. "He would do anything for me!"

You raised your eyebrows, again.

Jungkook yanked on your t-shirt sleeve, ushering you to get on the bike with him.

"Doesn't seem like it!" you called back casually, chucking your trash at her, causing the empty ice cream container to smack her in the shoulder and roll across the sidewalk.

"You–"

You cackled and got on the bike, hooking your arms around Jungkook's shoulders and adjusting your feet as she stomped up to you two, conventionally attractive features contorted in rage.

"He was my dog!"

Your eye twitched.

"You were gonna marry a freak who was into bestiality? No wonder you left," you remarked, patting him on the chest as Jungkook burst out laughing, loud and rich, shaking his head.

"You can't do this to me, Jungkook! You can't leave me with that other guy!"

You felt it.

Pause.

You felt Jungkook stiffen under your hands and you turned yourself, hearing the helpless plea in her voice now, throwing herself to the ground, designer knees in common dirt, anguish on her face, tears streaming down her made-up cheeks, sniffling hard, and, with your breath lodged in your throat, you realized she was restraining her pained sobs, so trained in maintaining appearances that it seemed like she couldn’t even cry properly in front of others.

"You can't... you know how they are... I can't marry him, you saw what kind of man he is... that's the whole reason I tried to find another husband..."

There was no more anger in her voice, only fear and dread, and you didn't understand, and yet you could for some reason, for some reason you could see it as if it was tangible, the realness in her enigmatic words. Jungkook's hands tightened on the handlebars of the bicycle, his knuckles turning white, tense shoulders under your arms, and for a second, a moment, an instant...

You thought he might go back.

"You should run."

The crying woman on the ground lifted her head, hiccupping, cheeks blotchy pink, still somehow beautiful.

"W-What?"

Jungkook turned his head and looked down at her. "You should run away, like I did. Find someone who actually loves you. Getting married to me will only make both of us miserable, even if it saves you from that other guy."

She looked from you to him, and you recognized that look in her eyes, jealousy and envy, but not directed at you. It was directed at the warmth between the coldness of his hands and yours, directed at the orbits of his and yours finally overlapping, meeting in the vastness of space once more, his zero and your zero becoming one, not you, but his ability to throw everything away, his wealth, his comfort, the world he knew, all for a feeling she had yet to feel.

"What... what if I can't?" she asked weakly. "What if I can't find what you have?"

Jungkook lifted his foot off the asphalt and placed it on the pedal. He raised his head, and you found his eyes on yours for a brief moment before casting them back down to his ex-fiancé.

"Then keep running. It's better than being married to him, right?"

He began to turn the handles, about to pedal away.

She screamed after him, words choked with agony.

"Love won't solve our problems, Jungkook!"

You held on tight, chest to his back, fingers clutching in Jungkook's shirt, nose in his hair, his warmth under your cold hands.

"It won't!" he yelled over his shoulder, gaining speed with a grin. "But it sure as hell makes the problems worth shouldering!"

-

“Hey! Get back here!”

You snickered and chucked the plastic bag into the basket connected to the bicycle, jumping on quickly, pedaling away as Jungkook ran after you at top speed, breathless and laughing, his black hair flying back, aqua shirt molding to his muscular chest, long legs sprinting after you and the bike, your grinning face looking back periodically to catch his smile, going not too fast, but still fast enough so he couldn’t quite catch up. Golden hour brought out the tan on his skin and his high cheekbones, both of you tearing out of the gas station at high speed, drawing stares and shaking heads, but neither of you noticed or cared, his booming voice calling your name and you sticking your tongue out at him childishly.

“Watch out!”

You jerked aside and sped past a group of five young men with skateboards, two with shorter black hair, one with long black hair and white highlights, one with ash gray hair, and one platinum blond, all very tall, but you didn’t have time to stop and stare at the impressive height of them, turning into a side alley towards to the creek nearby, avoiding pedestrians, Jungkook following close behind until you got to your destination, grabbing the plastic bag in the basket and throwing the bike down, cackling as Jungkook snatched you from the air, his heart racing against your back as you kicked the air, him still somehow effortlessly carrying you despite sprinting so hard, panting into your hair.

“Get off!”

But instead of letting you go, Jungkook held on tighter, fierce kisses into your neck, wiping his sweat all over you and making you cringe amidst your laughter. It was already late, the sun dipping into the horizon, slowly taking its warmth with it. Water trickled meekly down the creek, barely coating the rock bottom due to the hot summer.

“Stop, stop, the ice cream is melting,” you finally gasped out, shoving Jungkook aside, wiping your neck with the back of your hand, pretending to be disgusted, but Jungkook just grinned and seized your cheeks, pressing his lips against yours.

“I love you,” he breathed.

“Ack, I love you too, fuck, get off–”

-

You two sat on the swings of the empty playground, watching the sun disappear, eating ice cream with the lids of the containers. As predicted, Jungkook got the chocolate that seemed to have everything in it but the kitchen sink. You, on the other hand, got red bean this time.

“Hey, Jungkook.”

“Hm?”

He looked up from his ice cream, shoving a large lidful into his mouth.

It was strange how beautiful he looked, even with his black hair sticking up every which way, his cheeks filled with the frozen sweet, the faint rays of sunlight catching the silver of his jewelry – eyebrow piercing, earrings, silver chain around his neck with the compass star pendant – all paired with his oversized aqua blue t-shirt and baggy jeans, still with bits of flour on his thighs from work.

“What did that man do to her?”

A darkness clouded his features even though he tried to hide it from you with a neutral expression.

“Ah… He just… Just wasn’t really the kind of guy who thought of women as people,” Jungkook finally got out, looking away from you. “You know, the kind of guy you really hate.”

“That’s you,” you joked.

“I know I can’t do anything,” Jungkook continued, ignoring your quip and you suddenly regretted it, seeing the way he lowered his hands, exhaling slowly. “I am not responsible for anyone else’s behavior but my own.”

Come crawling back to me on your knees when she reaffirms to you that I'll be the best fuck you'll ever have.

She'll never make you feel as good as I can make you feel.

Enjoy your piranha.

“I’m sorry.”

Jungkook looked up at your sudden declaration.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, coughing awkwardly. “I’m sorry for saying the things I said about her.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Don’t be. Just because she was in a shit situation doesn’t excuse her for being a shit person.” He shoved the lid into the empty ice cream container and rubbed the back of his neck, pushing his hair back with a sigh. “Just like how it doesn’t excuse me from being a shit person for what I did to you.”

His eyes shifted away.

“You don’t have to–”

“Yeah, I do,” he muttered, cutting you off. “I’m a fucking loser.”

The streetlights began to turn on, but no one was in a place like this, two adults in a place for kids, stuck wondering what adulthood was supposed to feel like because it still felt like an endless cycle of forever learning and forever running, wandering to find out what the finish line meant.

“I wasted time you can’t get back and I will spend the rest of my life chasing the time I wasted.”

Jungkook sucked in a shuddering breath, hand falling from his hair, rueful smile on his face.

“I can only hope you can put up with me for so long.”

You blinked slowly.

He turned his head, brown eyes finding yours, those irises catching the streetlights like how his jewelry had caught the sun, proving that Jeon Jungkook was, indeed, already adorned with nature’s very own jewelry.

You scooped out the last of your red bean ice cream and ate it, looking away from him.

“Sounds like forever,” you remarked, feeling the chilled sweet cool your heated cheeks, swallowing slowly, savoring the way the cold warmed you in its own way.

“Hm?”

“Sounds like I’m stuck with you forever then,” you said, turning back to him with a smirk. “Kinda sucks.”

He smirked back, cocking an eyebrow. “Yeah. Major suck. Speaking of my dick–”

“Oh, shut up.”

But you said it with a smile and he knew you didn’t mean it.

-

“Why the fuck do you have that?”

“It’s from work. Gimmie your arm.”

“Why?”

You extended your arm, frowning, stopping under the streetlight, one hand on the bike as Jungkook held the black permanent marker with his right hand. He used two fingers to uncap it and tucked the lid neatly into his palm, spinning the marker with the adjacent two fingers to readjust it so that he could write on your arm.

“Do you wanna get a tattoo with me?”

“Of what?”

You looked down to him scribbling on your skin, his own black tattoos standing out, covering his entire right arm and up to his shoulder. You wondered if he would end up tattooing his back and maybe his other arm – but, then again, he kind of needed money to have pay for such large pieces.

“Couples tattoo.”

You looked down when he drew back, grinning, reading the word upside down.

LO♡ER

You raised an eyebrow.

“You want to get ‘lover’ tattooed?” you asked, skeptical, turning your arm this way and that, unsure if you liked the placement on your forearm, near your wrist. “You don’t have any space on your right arm anyway.”

“That’s why I would get it on my left.”

And he curved his wrist to write on the bandage on his left forearm, messily writing on top of it.

LO$ER

Now you raised both eyebrows.

“You want to get… ‘loser’ tattooed onto your body?” you snorted disbelievingly.

Jungkook grinned, recapping the black marker with one hand, tapping the dollar sign on the bandage with the marker lid. “Doesn’t it describe me? ‘Cause I had money, and now I don’t.” He pointed to the heart on your skin. “You love me. I love you. A lover with a dollar sign is a loser, right?”

Laughter and skateboards sped past, five blurs of black along the street, spinning around the parked cars, people yelling after them to stop being so reckless, but you were too busy staring at Jungkook to notice the ruckus, too busy staring at that smile and those brown orbs lit up by streetlights.

“Are you stupid?”

Jungkook’s grin widened, mole underneath clearly visible. “Yeah, kind of. Stupidly in love with you.”

You both instantly pretended to gag, trying to mask your smiles, you shoving him and him shoving back, playful and laughing like mad, falling into him, dropping the bike with a loud clang, swept up in his arms and his kiss, your hands hooking behind his neck, love you, love you, love you, not sure about this whole tattoo idea, but, hell, maybe, just maybe if he annoyed you enough about it.

-

Shit, the groceries...

Are they still good?

The green onions look kind of wilted, but so do you and you're still good... I think.

Shut up.

You didn't need him, but being without him was like being frozen in time.

Not that you had any big dreams or aspirations anyone could be envious about. It always been like that, casually cruising through life, existing for the sake of existing, no real reason needed. It just was, and there was no reason to stop, so you kept going. The path was there, so you kept walking.

But, then.

Jeon Jungkook.

Jungkook made you run.

It's not washing off.

Tragic.

Easy for you to say, you wrote yours on your bandage, 'loser'.

So terrible that you have 'lover' written in you by your lover - hey, pfft, stop! Put the showerhead down!

It was truly by chance to meet him, a moment of terror and then he was there, yelling, get off her, don't fucking touch her, and you didn't understand, didn't understand why some random guy would suddenly intervene between an interaction of two strangers, how could he sense your discomfort and fear, and now he was throwing fists, brawling with not one but three guys, friends of the one who slipped his phone and his hands under your skirt, the stranger smashing the phone with venomous rage, fighting in a dress shirt, slacks, leather loafers, and expensive-looking rings, giving you a chance to escape.

A winner at life.

Not like you, you who let something happen because you froze up in that second, disbelieving that such a thing could happen to you, a nobody, a loser.

He kicked one of them in the knee, growling, a howl followed by the sharp crack during the fight.

You could turn and escape.

Or?

You heard sirens.

You grabbed your protector's flying fist and clenched into it tightly, panicking.

Run!

This was before the tattoos.

This was before the pain.

This was before the piercing.

Jeon Jungkook had whipped his head around at the foreign touch, in this mess because he had witnessed something disgusting and because he simply wanted to fight, just wanted to beat someone up, wanted to cause real pain to someone because he couldn't control his own life, wanted to fight something.

Needed to fight.

A hand around his hand.

Run!

Never once had Jungkook thought about escape.

Not until he saw that face, fear and panic and rage and determination, stunningly beautiful, hand around his hand, not letting go, pulling, sirens screaming in the distance, his legs already moving, following, running, running, running, into the sea of the unknown.

Sinking into it.

Lungs screaming, clumsily flying through alleys, on wings of adrenaline, running after the girl in the white hoodie and red plaid skirt holding his hand, falling, falling, falling, skidding across the concrete, her arms around his, her head buried into his chest, his hands around her head to protect it, hitting a dumpster with a pained wheeze.

The sirens sped past.

He was holding her and she was holding him.

It was chance.

Just chance.

His hands were scraped up, bleeding from the trip and tumble, her white hoodie dirtied and ripped from the fall, scrapes on her legs and knees.

I'm sorry...

It was ridiculous chance.

Just ridiculous.

You clung to this stranger and laughed, laughed like a maniac, laughed like you had gone mad, crying into his dirty navy dress shirt, thank you, thank you, thank you, not knowing you were holding the one who would make you run, not knowing who or how affluent he was, now knowing of how it felt to hold his hand and kiss his lips and hear his laugh, not knowing how you would introduce him to a friend who was a tattoo artist and start his interest in them, not knowing you would sit by him for long hours and watch the art grow on his skin...

Holding him, crying, thank you, thank you, thank you for saving me, leaning against a dumpster as the stranger hugged you tightly, I got you, it's okay, don't cry, don't cry, don’t cry please, rubbing your back.

Not knowing.

Not knowing he would make you zero, not knowing you would be standing there, time and time again, verbally beaten by his own parents as he looked away, unable to fight.

And you would escape.

You would run.

He would come back.

An endless cycle until you broke it.

Then he started the endless cycle again, broken as it was, his whispers to your cheeks, I love you, cheeks that were dried of tears because you were cried out and left with a mechanical heart, I love you, heart to heartless because of wasted time, I love you, time wasted but you still loved him, no matter what you did.

Did that make you pathetic?

Did that make you stupid?

Did that make you the loser?

I love you.

Why did it matter?

Even winners die.

I love you too, Jungkook.

"Get your hands off my tits."

"Why?"

You glared at him. Jungkook grinned and spun you around, hair still a little damp, kisses on your face that made you cringe as your naked bodies tumbled on the bed, him doing it on purpose, your grumble against his kisses, should have known, his smirk against your scowl, thought you knew me well by now, capturing his lips to shut him up, sinking into his arms and the ocean that was Jeon Jungkook, the one who made you want to run through the maze of life instead of aimlessly walk down the path.

His hands on your face, staring into your eyes.

You looked back, into those eyes that once had everything, but you.

And yet, he chose to lose it all and have nothing, but you.

It didn't really make sense, being in love.

You searched for regret, but there was none to be found.

"Am I forever your waste of time?" Jungkook whispered, breath drifting over your lips.

You smirked.

"Always was and always will be."

I know you said I was a waste of time. But I was your waste of time and that was all I ever wanted to be.

"Let me at least..."

"Ah, f-fuck, Jungkook!"

Your hands faltered a little, rolling the condom down while biting your lip, gasping as his two fingers plunged into you, him moaning at the wetness, thrusting slowly and deeply.

"What, you think I can't feel good with only your dick?"

"No," Jungkook snickered, pulling his slick fingers out of your pussy and bringing them to his face, cocking an eyebrow. "Just want a taste."

You rolled your eyes as he shoved his fingers into his mouth, sucking them off, eyelids fluttering.

"You're so annoying."

He grinned around his fingers, slowly pulling them out and tracing his wet lips.

You narrowed your eyes.

You don't have to take me back. I understand now, you know... I get it. Everyone... everyone will tell you you're crazy and to not to take me back.

I'm not taking you anywhere.

I... I wouldn't blame you. I promise.

Jungkook, please, shut the fuck up.

Your hands on his chest, smacking your hips down, his head thrown back on the pillows, breathless moan at your tightness, matching his sound with your own, stretching yourself out and feeling him swell even more at the pulse of your walls wrapped around him, rolling your hips into his, wet, intense smacks, his right hand flying up and wrapping around your left wrist, watching you through his lashes with effort, losing himself in your pace, no need to ask because you could see it in his face, his open mouth and glazed over eyes, fingers slipping down, curling your nails into his skin.

“P… Please…”

Raking your nails down his chest, his back arching and eyes closing, groaning in pleasure and pain, fucking him into your mattress so hard that the bedframe squealed, setting your jaw and closing your eyes too, savoring his fullness and thickness, sinking into the ocean of pleasure that was Jeon Jungkook, the one who made you feel like no one else, the one who could make and unmake your mechanical heart, funny how that worked, your nails in his skin creating crescents of lust, your eyes snapping open as you felt his chest rise, his back arching, his hands flat on the bed and thrusting his hips up into you, one eye partly open, black hair pushed back, open-mouthed smirk on his lips.

That dark brown orb partly obscured by his lashes, but revealing all to you.

You ticked your chin at him.

“Look at me.”

His eyes fully opening, pupils dilated, hazed over with lust and stubborn love.

“Nothing is more important to me than loving you,” he panted before sinking his teeth into his lower lip, mole underneath flashing, smacking his hips up into yours hard and fast, and it took no time at all, staring at his face and the way the moonlight cradled his strong jaw and toned muscle, catching the low light and bringing out the fervor in his gaze, filling you just right, pleasure blossoming from your core and yet concentrated tightly at the same time, moan of his name falling from your lips, spilling out from your lips and in between your legs, covering him with the sweet scent and harsh squeezes of orgasm, even wetter now, his eyes rolling back, cock twitching, satisfied hiss of your name spilling out with spurts of cum filling the condom, his length shivering inside you, your thighs closing in and holding him in the air so you could feel it all.

His pleasure and him.

I won’t make it to heaven. I don’t belong there.

It’s not like I belong there either, Jungkook.

Are you sure? Only an angel would take me back.

I didn’t take you back. Only your body walked away. Your heart never left me, did it?

“You sure you don’t want to get a couples tattoo with me?”

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around how your dumb ass wants to get ‘loser’ tattooed and how you think that’s romantic.”

He pressed his right forearm against your left and grinned, watching you suck in a breath as he pushed into you again, other condom already in the trash, new one on, your right leg against his chest, sandwiched between your bodies.

“But yeah, if you want, I’ll get a ‘lover’ tattoo.”

He paused, blinking rapidly. “Really?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Why not?”

“You never wanted a tattoo before.”

Now you raised both eyebrows. “Did you ever ask me before?”

Jungkook looked down at you, hair a mess, smile blossoming on his face, somewhere between giddiness and mania, diving down and showering you with kisses, you smacking his arms and telling him, you’re bending me in half, the fuck are you doing, and he laughed, lifting both your legs now, I’ll show you bent in half, placing them between his arms, leaning down, sinking in as deep as possible, your moan and his moan mixing together.

You’re still here.

Of course, I am, this is my fucking apartment. Ugh, your black eye looks even uglier than before.

You don’t… you don’t want me to leave?

Did I say that? Uh… why are you crying?

F… Forget I said a-anything…

Hey, stop. Don’t cry. Don’t cry, Jungkook, please…

“Fuck, you feel so good, fuck…!”

Your hands in his hair, teasing grin on your face, and he was looking down at you, I love your smug smile, fuck, your fingers combing through his hair, pushing it back and away from his face, letting him see your smug smile without any obstructions, you always fuck me so well, Jungkook, the smile breaking out over his handsome features, breathing erratic and labored, hard and rough and deep, you rising your hips to meet him for every loud smack, exhales and moans blending together, tight, wet, full, your grip on his hair tightening, closer, closer, racing to the edge of the cliff and the edge of the world, Jungkook in your hands, taking him with you, or was he the one who was leading you?

“Jungkook…”

Breathless as if you were running, winded from the pleasure, tightening around him, his head lowering, your name washing over your cheeks in a hot gasp, putting more weight on you, nearly folded in half but it felt better this way, gratifying in how hard he could fuck you in this position, staring into those dark brown orbs, his body on yours, knowing he was yours, always was, always will be, and you were his, always was, always will be.

Head pressing into the pillows, moaning his name again, loud and unashamed, the overwhelming feeling taking over, muscles tense and nerves on fire, pouring it all into the pleasure, pulsing around his jerking length, his moan of your name on your skin, shooting shivering strings of cum into the condom, massaged and milked by the strength of your orgasm, locking him in your embrace and his arms closing in, lips on lips, a fierce kiss dominated by shuddering aftershocks, trembling in each other’s hold and taking the other’s breath away, blazing hot all over even though this frozen world cared about no one.

The kiss lasted a long, long time.

It fell apart slowly, leaving you both lightheaded from the intensity.

“You’re a waste of time, Jungkook,” you whispered, heated. “But you’re my time.”

The side of his lips quirked upward, sweaty, panting, chuckling.

“That’s all I ever wanted to be.”

--

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