#in the end everything's always about money

[gyubakeries]

❆ 𝐠𝐲𝐮𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 : 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 ��𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐬! ❆ | 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐮 - 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 <𝟑

❆ 𝑑𝑎𝑦 9: pre-christmas dinner | k.mg

a/n: hi!! welcome to day 9 <333 be prepared to see some chef!mingyu haha :P i also must thank kyii and sousy for brainstorming with me for this fic, and a few others as well. love u guys <3

p.s. it definitely takes much more time to pull off an entire roast chicken, but for the sake of the fic, the process is relatively faster and mingyu is like, the masterchef or something. also im writing this the evening before a major exam and im just as cooked as the first chicken lol.

word count: 1.2k contents: mingyu x gn!reader , established relationship , ceo!mingyu , cooking , theyre gonna roast a chicken for funsies , good chef!mingyu , clumsy helper!reader , fluff , christmas fun , one (1) chicken was ..... cooked too well in this fic , im sorry chicken (or not...) , read to find out why <3

"baby! i'm home!" mingyu calls out, and that's all it takes for you to come out to the living room, only to be met by the sight of your giant of a boyfriend dragging in huge bags.

"you said you were going to buy some ice-cream," you raise an eyebrow at mingyu. "so, either you bought an entire year's worth of cookies 'n cream, or you bought stuff that we didn't need."

"you know how i get at grocery stores, especially the large, gourmet ones," mingyu pouts. "everything looks so good."

"this is exactly why you need to let me buy groceries," you sigh, grabbing one of the bags and starting to empty the contents. "your bank account won't thrive for long."

"please, we both know i have more than enough money to live comfortably," mingyu sasses. you turn away from the pantry, where you were putting away the organic pasta mingyu had bought, to face your boyfriend.

he looks absolutely adorable like this; beanie nearly slipping over his eyes, large figure bundled up in a sweater and crouching in front of the fridge, stuffing two boxes of something in the freezer.

in moments like these, it's almost impossible to imagine mingyu as the CEO of a high-tech company. trying to visualize him in the crisp suits he wears to work feels like a distant dream, especially when at home, he's just the embodiment of a golden retriever, always so soft and loving.

"yeah, i know mr. ceo," you snicker when he plops down on the floor, complaining of a backache because of crouching at a weird angle. "you don't have to flex your money."

"i'm not flexing," mingyu defends himself with wide eyes. "just saying; we could totally quit our jobs and travel the world, and we'd still have enough money to buy your dream house in the countryside of france."

"we'll see about that," you laugh. just as you finish putting all the groceries away, your stomach starts rumbling. "what's for dinner?"

"roast chicken," mingyu hums, and you notice him flitting around the kitchen, gathering spices, sauces, herbs, and lots of other things.

"you're kidding," you deadpan. "you're gonna roast a chicken?"

"yes!" mingyu grins at you, patting a box placed on the counter. "mr. chicken is here. i'm just going to let him marinade for a while before we roast."

"you're insane," you gape at how professional he looks, washing an entire chicken, patting it dry, mixing together a quick marinade, covering the chicken in it and setting it aside in a matter of thirty minutes.

"again, why aren't you a full-time chef?" you ask him. you're both munching on some snacks while he waits for the oven to finish pre-heating and the chicken to rest in the marinade.

"because i only want my baby to eat my cooking," mingyu answers, stealing some of your chips.

"you've literally cooked for all our friends."

"okay, my baby and our friends."

"and what about our future children? won't you cook for them?" you tease, and as usual, mingyu whines.

"y/n, you know what i meant," he sulks. "i didn't want to turn something i love doing into a profession that i may end up hating."

"well, i'm lucky to have experienced your amazing cooking skills," you remark, and mingyu rolls his eyes affectionately. "if you're trying to sweet talk me into giving you the last slice of cheesecake in the fridge, it's not gonna work."

"aw man," you frown, and mingyu presses a kiss to your cheek as compensation. as if on cue, the oven's timer dings, and mingyu springs into action. he takes the chicken out of the fridge, and you watch in awe as he preps a baking tray, places the chicken in it, and puts it in the oven.

he finally finishes fiddling with the settings of the oven and comes over to you, expression serious.

"babe, i have an online meeting right now. the chicken's gonna be in for an hour. can you keep an eye out for when the oven timer rings? i should be done by then, but if i'm not, just carefully take it out of the oven and set it on the counter, okay?"

"got it, chef," you mock salute, and he smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. "stay alert okay? you do remember what happened last time with the cake, right?" mingyu teases.

"i got distracted by the show! it could happen to anyone," you cross your arms.

"i know, but i don't want a repeat of that," mingyu chuckles. "cleaning burnt cake wasn't exactly fun."

"i promise, gyu, i'll be extra attentive this time," you assure him, and he heads into the study for his online meeting.

to no one's surprise, you completely miss the timer.

your best friend had called you fifteen minutes after the chicken had started cooking, and what was supposed to be a five minute call regarding what dress your friend should wear to her boyfriend's office party, turned into more than an hour of gossiping about your respective office colleagues.

you only notice something is wrong when you smell something burning, and it hits you then.

the chicken.

apparently, mingyu too had smelled the burning, because he's already grabbing the tray out of the oven and placing it on the counter.

the chicken is burnt, and there's no way of salvaging it.

"min, i'm sorry-" you gasp, mortified by your mistake. "i swear i was trying to-"

"it's okay," mingyu shakes his head, setting the tray down in the sink, leaving the disaster of a roast chicken to cool before he attempts to scrape it off the tray. "i kinda thought this may happen, so i got reinforcements."

you watch with furrowed eyebrows as mingyu walks over to the fridge and pulls out another box, revealing yet another whole chicken.

the entire situation seems absurd, and all you can say is, "were they twins??"

mingyu bursts into laughter, and so do you. it's hilarious seeing his six foot-something figure double over as he nearly falls to the ground because of how hard he's laughing.

"babe, you're so silly," he wheezes, trying to catch his breath. "i just got a backup chicken, in case something went wrong with the first one."

"and you didn't bother to check if they were from the same family?" you gasp in mock offense.

"my bad," he raises his arms in surrender. "in my defense, the burnt one kinda looked like this one's cheating ex, which is why it has to go in the trash."

"hm, i'll allow it then," you nod, face serious, as if you both weren't making up ridiculous stories about chickens of all things.

"anyways, now, all you have to do is sit back, while i cook this one," mingyu instructs you.

"it was a mistake," you pout, crossing your arms and leaning against the kitchen counter. mingyu crosses over to you and pecks your lips. "i know it was baby, and it's okay. you can help me with the marinade this time, okay?"

(the way your eyes lit up in joy makes mingyu feel like he'd be okay with any food burning, as long as it gets you this happy to help him redo it.

god, he'd buy you all the chickens in the world, just to see you like this.)

- fin.

divider made by @bernardsbendystraws !

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@theidontknowmehn @shinwonderful @baseball-dokyeom @wonuwrites @hearts4hee

@t-102 @gyuguys @grapejuicelh @aaa-sia @cixrosie

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[whocaresstillthelouvre]

The Gingerbread Matchmaker

Rating: Teen? If even, but I still appreciate MDNI. Pairing: No Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader Words Count: 4,500 Summary: You're the owner of the struggling bakery Sweet Nothing, and you're quickly running out of money—and patience. Your town's annual gingerbread house competition is your last ditch effort to save everything you've worked so hard on. Too bad you quickly discover that you're a baker—and not a contractor. Enter, Sarah Miller, offering her dad's building skills. Warnings: fluff, Hallmark Christmas movie vibes, Sarah Miller the matchmaker, I believe in a world where Joel Miller is happy, Christmas vibes, a lot of baking, not beta read

A/N: Happy holidays everybody! This idea planted in my head a few nights ago and I just had to get this out to y'all. Thank you to @saradika for the gingerbread dividers!

Masterlist

You're a whirlwind of aprons and flour-dusted hands as you flit around Sweet Nothing Bakery, your labor of love. The display before you blooms into a colorful bouquet of cupcakes, each one baked then frosted with meticulous care.

Only you, the hopeless dreamer who has always believed that one good chocolate chip cookie can instantly improve a bad day, would decide to pack up your whole life, purchase a long-closed-down bakery sight unseen, and move to a cozy suburb outside of Austin that you’ve never even visited before.

And here you are now, your eyes flickering toward the door every few minutes. You've poured everything into this place – your savings and your dreams. The bell above the door remains silent, though.

"Maybe it's just another off day," you mumble to yourself. Your wrist twists, bringing the face of your watch into view for the third time in ten minutes.

As if on cue, the door creaks open, and your heart leaps. But it's only Mr. Bowe from the music shop next door, his gaze sweeping over the cupcakes before he offers a sympathetic smile. "Just looking at all of the pretty pastries, my dear," he says.

You nod with a practiced grin that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

"Let me know if anything tempts you," you reply, already turning back to rearrange a tray of lemon cupcakes.

"Will do," Mr. Bowe assures you, though you both know he won't. He never does. With a smile and a nod, he's gone, leaving you alone again.

Damnit. This bakery was supposed to be a beginning, not an end. You can't let it crumble in your hands.

The sun begins to set as you tally the day's earnings—or lack thereof. Your palms press against your eyes when you realize the sum total barely covers the cost of ingredients. Your shoulders slump as you count and recount, you lose every time.

With a deep sigh, you flick off the lights one by one and climb the narrow staircase to your apartment.

You’ll try again tomorrow.

The morning sun pours through the bakery's front windows. You're lining up croissants in the display case when Mr. Bowe’s kind voice catches your attention.

"Have you heard about the Gingerbread House Contest?"

Your ears perk up, and you lean closer. "No, I haven't. Tell me more."

"Well, every year, Cedar Park holds the contest right in the town square. It's quite the spectacle," he explains. “It draws quite the crowd."

"Sounds fun," you muse.

"Indeed. Last year, the winner's gingerbread house was featured in the newspaper. Gave their little shop a real boost."

You straighten up.

"Maybe I should give it a shot," you say, more to yourself than Mr. Bowe.

“I’d love to see what you come up with.”

You don your apron, your sleeves rolled up to your elbows. The familiar sound of the mixer whirring calms your nervous heart. The bakery smells of ginger, cinnamon, and allspice. For the first time in weeks, you actually feel a glimmer of hope that maybe—just maybe—you’re going to be okay.

Rolling out the first batch of gingerbread, you press shapes into the dough—walls, roofs, and tiny doors.

You've got this. Or so you tell yourself, leaning against the counter with a mug of tea while you watch the oven bake your hopes and dreams.

Your hands are steady as you lay out your tools—offset spatula, rolling pin, and piping bags. You prepare yourself to transform from a baker into an architect.

Or—so you thought—your gingerbread homes begin to resemble earthquake victims, walls crumble and roofs slide. All you can do is laugh in disbelief. You mastered croissants at the age of twelve, you knew how to make macarons before you knew how to drive. How in the hell are you failing at gingerbread houses of all things?

Determined, you eye the next batch in the oven. This time, you’ll double the icing, maybe whisper sweet nothings to the dough, and cross your fingers for good luck.

You barely notice the jingle of the front door bell over the crash of another wall meeting its demise.

"Wow, looks like a gingerbread massacre in here," a sweet voice cuts through your frustration. You glance up from your baked goods ruins and spy Sarah Miller smiling at you, curiosity lighting up her face as she surveys the scene. You straighten up, self-conscious under the gaze of your guest.

"Ah, well, it's not usually this… chaotic," you offer with a sheepish grin, trying to brush off the mess littering your workspace and apron.

Your eyes meet Joel, Sarah’s handsome dad standing just behind her. Your breath catches in your throat, a common occurrence whenever you see him in your shop, standing tall and broad-shouldered, rugged with bronzed skin. His strong jawline is dusted with stubble, his full lips sit under a well-trimmed mustache, and his eyes—a warm dark brown—crinkle at the corners as he takes in the chaos of your kitchen with a slight grin.

He runs a hand through his short, dark hair. You try not to stare at his arms, muscular and tanned. You’re left speechless again by him, your eyes roaming from his work-worn hands to the easy smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He exudes strength and capability—you feel ridiculous in your current predicament—covered in flour and crumbled gingerbread buildings.

"Looks like you could use a hand," he says, his voice is a low rumble that sends a shiver through your body.

"Or maybe a bulldozer," Sarah adds.

"Maybe so," you respond, feeling the tension ease out of your body at their lighthearted banter. “What brings you in today?"

Sarah bounces on her toes, her curls bobbing. "We’re early for my piano lesson next door and I wanted to ask you about helping with my bake sale—" She glances around at your gingerbread graveyard. "Maybe we came to the wrong place?"

You laugh, running your hand across your forehead and wincing when you realize you've just dusted it with flour. "Oh no, I promise I'm usually much more competent. It's just this gingerbread house contest has me all flustered."

Joel's eyebrows raise. "The gingerbread contest? The one being held this weekend? That's a big deal around here."

"Yep. So I've heard," you sigh. "I thought it would be a great way to get some publicity for the bakery, but…" You point helplessly at the crumbled remains of your attempts.

Sarah's eyes light up. "Dad! You could help!" She turns to you, grinning. "My dad's a contractor. He builds real houses. I bet he could help you make an awesome gingerbread house!”

You blink, surprised by Sarah's suggestion. Joel rubs the back of his neck, looking a bit sheepish. "I don't know about that, baby girl. Building gingerbread houses isn't exactly building a home."

But Sarah doesn’t back down. She turns to you, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Dad's being modest. He's amazing at building things! You should see him build LEGO!”

You look around at your kitchen, littered with the remains of your failed attempts.

“I—guess I could use the help,” you shrug, glancing over at Joel.

He hesitates, his eyes darting between you and Sarah, the internal debate playing out on his face. “I suppose I could take a look,” he sighs, a hint of a smile appearing.

“Yes!” Sarah cheers, clapping her hands together.

Relief and excitement rush through you. “Thank you,” you earnestly say. “I promise I’ll repay. Free cupcakes for life?”

He laughs a deep, warm sound. “Let’s see if I can actually help…”

Joel moves closer to inspect your gingerbread casualties, you catch the smell of his cologne—woodsy, like pine and campfires. You try to focus as he examines the graveyard of broken cookie pieces, his brow furrowing in concentration. God, he’s handsome.

"You need to think about load-bearing walls, proper supports—”

“It’s cookie dough, not concrete,” you retort with a smile.

“What if we change the shape?” Joel suggests. “Maybe something less—grand than a gigantic gingerbread mansion.”

You nod, your mind racing with possibilities of gingerbread construction.

“Ooh! I have an idea!” Sarah pipes up with excitement. “What if we made the clock tower in the town square?”

“It’s smaller, we’d need less actual structure pieces, maybe we could rely more on your decorating than building skills then?” Joel says thoughtfully.

“That’s actually… not a bad idea,” you admit, your eyes lighting up as you consider the possibilities. "I could use royal icing to make the details on the clock face," you muse.

Joel nods. "And I can help with trying to make sure it stays upright."

"Team Gingerbread!" Sarah cheers, pumping her fist in the air.

You laugh, feeling warmth spread through your chest for the first time in a quite awhile.

“So, when do we start?” Sarah asks excitedly. “Now?”

“No, baby girl,” Joel says with a chuckle. “We can’t start right now. You have your piano lesson.”

"But Dad," she whines, "this is way more important than piano!"

"How about we start tomorrow?" you suggest, glancing at Joel. "After the bakery closes? That way, I can prepare some fresh gingerbread and we can really get started."

"Sounds like a plan. What time do you close up shop?"

"Seven," you reply, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest at the thought of spending more time with him.

"Perfect," Joel says. "We'll be here."

Sarah bounces on her toes, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Can we bring anything to help?”

“Patience,” you wink.

Joel chuckles, a sound you could get used to hearing.

“Please, pick something out to take with you,” you say gesturing to the display case.

While Joel and Sarah peruse your variety of baked goods, you take the opportunity to steal glances at him. His strong profile, the gentle way he interacts with his daughter, his broad shoulders. You shake your head, trying to escape your reverie over the handsome contractor as you bag up the treats they’ve chosen.

“A chocolate chip cookie for the little lady, and a cinnamon roll for dad,” you say, handing the bag to Sarah.

"See you tomorrow! We're gonna make the best gingerbread tower ever!" Sarah says, as they turn for the door.

“I sure hope so,” you giggle at her enthusiasm.

Joel lingers for a moment at the door, his eyes meeting yours. “See you tomorrow,” his deep voice rumbles through you as he leaves.

The next day, you're up before dawn, determined to perfect your gingerbread recipe. That, and you couldn’t stop thinking about seeing Joel again.

By mid-afternoon, you've settled on the perfect blend - a dough that's sturdy enough for construction.

As closing time nears, your stomach flutters with nerves over seeing Joel again. You're just finishing up filling the piping bags with royal icing when the bell above the door chimes.

"We're here!" Sarah's voice rings out, her curls bouncing as she practically skips into the bakery. Joel follows behind, with a soft smile as he takes in the scene.

"Wow, it smells amazing in here," he says.

You lead them to the workspace. "I've got everything laid out. Shall we get started?"

Sarah claps her hands excitedly. "Let's do this!"

Joel listens intently as you explain the pieces you’ve baked for the clock tower.

"Okay, I think I see how we can make this work," Joel says, reaching for a piece of gingerbread. "We'll start with a solid base, then build up the walls using these larger pieces as supports."

You find yourself mesmerized by Joel’s hands as he begins; strong, capable, yet incredibly gentle as he handles the gingerbread.

You blink out of your focus, remembering you have a job to do—and Joel’s daughter is right next to him.

"I'll start on the decorations," you say, reaching for a piping bag filled with white royal icing.

"What can I do?" Sarah asks looking around at all of the accoutrements needed to build the tower.

You smile at her enthusiasm. "How about you sort these candies by color? We'll need them for the details later."

And just like that, the bakery feels a little less quiet, a little less empty.

As the clock ticks later, the outline of the clock tower begins to take shape.

You catch yourself staring at Joel's strong hands as he carefully places the final support beam for the clock tower. Your eyes trail up his arms, past his broad shoulders to his handsome face—where you’re startled to find him looking right back at you, his brown eyes wide as he stares into yours.

"Earth to bakers!" Sarah's voice cuts through the moment. "Are we done for tonight?"

You shake your head, clearing your thoughts. "Yes, I think that's enough for today. Tomorrow, we finish decorating," you reply, wiping your hands on your apron.

“It looks like it’s going to hold,” Joel nods, stepping back to admire your mutual handiwork before gathering his and Sarah’s things.

“Let’s hope!” Sarah says, carefully leaning in to assess a wall.

"Same time tomorrow?" Joel asks, his hand on the door.

"Wouldn't miss it," you reply, a bit too eagerly.

With one more day to go, you lean over the bakery counter, watching as Joel meticulously positions a candy cane-striped piece atop the gingerbread clock tower, using extra tenderness as he handles the delicate candy.

“Geez Dad, I haven’t seen you handle something so gently since you built that little green alien from that show you like,” Sarah quips, perched on a stool, legs swinging, her curly hair bouncing with energy. “It’s candy, not a thousand piece LEGO set.”

You stifle a laugh as you watch Joel's serious face crack into a reluctant smile.

"If only your smart mouth could decorate," he retorts, his voice low and warm.

Sarah's eyes light up mischievously, a grin spreading across her face. "Oh! I just remembered," she exclaims, hopping down from her stool. "I promised Mr. Bowe I'd help him set up his Christmas window display today. I can't believe I almost forgot!"

You and Joel exchange skeptical glances. "Since when do you help Mr. Bowe with his window?" Joel asks, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

"Since… now?" Sarah replies, already backing towards the door. "It's important to help others, right Dad? You always say that. I'm sure you two can handle the rest of the decorating without me. I think you two make a great team! If you need me, I'll be next door!"

Before either of you can protest, Sarah darts out the door, the bell jingling in her wake.

All of a sudden, the bakery feels much smaller, much more intimate, the air sits thicker between you and Joel.

You clear your throat, reaching for a piping bag filled with white icing. "Well, I guess we should keep going," you say, your voice sounding unnaturally high.

Joel nods, his fingers skimming yours as he takes the piping bag from your hand. A jolt of electricity passes between you at the contact, and you quickly pull away, knocking over a container of sprinkles in your haste.

"Oh, shoot," you mutter, dropping to your knees to clean up the mess. Joel kneels beside you, helping to gather the scattered sprinkles.

You both reach for the same pile, your fingers brushing against each other. This time though, neither of you pulls away.

You look up, meeting Joel's, brown eyes, his intense stare searching your eyes as if he’s trying to read your thoughts.

Time stands still, the smell of cinnamon, ginger, and your bakery dissipates, now all you smell is Joel’s woodsy cologne. Finally, after watching him from afar for months, separated by the bakery display case, always getting to see the small glimpses of him with his daughter and the sensitive heart he keeps buttoned up beneath his flannel shirt, he’s so close. He takes a deep breath, leaning in, closing the distance between you. Joel’s lips meet yours, gentle and tentative at first, until he cups your cheek, and you melt into him, quietly moaning at the first taste of the cinnamon and coffee on his tongue.

Your hands find their way to his broad shoulders, sinking into his warmth, steadying yourself as he wraps his strong arms around your waist and pulls you closer.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathless. Joel rests his forehead against yours. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he whispers.

“Me too,” you admit, feeling heat creep into your cheeks.

“I think my daughter may have had an ulterior motive in leaving us alone,” he chuckles.

You laugh softly. "She's a smart kid."

"Too smart for her own good sometimes," Joel agrees.

"We should probably get back to decorating," you say reluctantly.

Joel nods, standing and offering you his hand and pulling you up.

You stand shoulder to shoulder with Joel at the counter, Joel’s presence now a comforting warmth beside you, as you both reach for a frosted windowpane.

"Here, let me," he says, taking the delicate piece from you. He gently handles the sugar glass with a gentleness you’re now well aware of, and glues it to the clocktower.

“It looks great,” you say, closing the distance between Joel.

Joel’s eyes lock with yours, leaning in, his breath ghosting over your lips. Your chin tilts up, wanting to taste the sweetness of his lips again…

Suddenly, the bell above the door chimes loudly, shattering the moment. The two of you spring apart, both breathing heavily.

"I'm back!" Sarah's cheerful voice rings out. "Mr. Bowe says hi and—" She stops short, her eyes darting between you and her father, a knowing smirk spreading across her face.

Flustered, you take a step back, your elbow accidentally knocking against the edge of the table. The gingerbread clock tower wobbles precariously, and time seems to slow as you watch in horror.

But Joel is already in motion, lunging forward and reaching out to steady the creation. A collective sigh of relief fills the room as the gingerbread clock tower stands unscathed.

"Nice catch," you breathe out.

He offers a humble shrug, but the slight twinkle in his eye tells you he's pleased.

"Oh my god Dad! That was awesome!" Sarah chimes, rushing over to inspect the nearly-catastrophe. “Is it done? It looks amazing!”

“I think it is, except for one more piece,” you say, pulling out two surprise gingerbread cookies.

The first cookie is unmistakably Sarah. Her curly hair is captured by swirls of chocolate icing. Her bright brown eyes are recreated with the help of tiny candy pearl dots. Her wide smile is a perfect arc of white royal icing. You made sure to include her favorite part of green Chuck Taylors and stack of beaded bracelets.

Joel’s cookie is a little simpler, his stubble is recreated with finely crushed Oreos, his short, dark hair made with chocolate icing. He’s even complete with a tiny flannel shirt constructed with red and brown icing.

Two sets of brown eyes widen as they take in the miniature versions of themselves.

“These are incredible,” Joel says softly. “Really.”

“Well, you two are my most frequent customers, and I couldn’t have done all of this without your help,” you admit, smiling at Sarah.

Sarah beams, carefully picking up her cookie-self. "Can we put them on the tower? Like we're looking out the window or something?"

"That's a great idea," you nod, reaching for icing to secure the cookies in place.

As the three of you work together to position the two cookies just right, you feel contentment wash over you.

Just a few days ago, the bakery felt so empty and daunting. But now, as you watch Joel help Sarah put on her jacket before they both take one last look at the completed gingerbread tower, you feel hopeful for the future of the bakery—and the gingerbread competition tomorrow.

You’re tired—you barely slept last night, you yawn as you carefully load the gingerbread tower into your car, praying it survives the short drive to the town square.

The morning air is crisp as you step out of your car, waving at Joel and Sarah as they make their way towards you. Joel has a shy smile, his deep brown eyes lit with something akin to fondness as he approaches you.

“Ready?” he asks with a nod.

“As ready as I can be,” you sigh.

You and Joel carry your collective pride and joy across the town square with the help of Sarah leading the way to the competition area.

"This is it!" she exclaims, waggling her fingers in front of the table like a magician. You swallow nervously when you see the talent of your competitors.

"Wow, look at that castle," Sarah gasps. Joel doesn’t even look over, his focus remaining fixed on your shared creation, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Ours is better," he states matter-of-factly.

“You’re right,” you agree with a smile.

As the judges make their rounds, you try to calm your nerves as your foot nervously taps against the pavement and you try to catch your breath. Joel seems to sense your anxiety, taking your hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. The warmth of his touch steadying you, silencing your self-doubt.

"Hey," he says quietly, giving your hand another reassuring squeeze. "Whatever happens, we did good."

"Thank you," you breathe out.

And then they're before you—the judges—with their scrutinizing eyes and nods of approval. You and Joel still hold hands, both of you not making an attempt to pull away. One of them leans in close, inspecting the intricate icing lattice-work that had taken you hours of painstaking focus.

"Exceptional detail," one judge comments, pointing to the two gingerbread figures of Joel and Sarah at the base of the tower.

"And the structural integrity is impressive," another judge remarks. Now, you squeeze Joel’s hand.

"Thank you," Joel says.

The judges move on. The three of you look at each other, with unspoken hopes of victory. Joel still doesn’t drop your hand.

"And now," the announcer's voice catches the crowd’s attention, "for the winners of this year's Cedar Park Gingerbread House Contest!"

A rush of adrenaline flows through your body as your heart beats against your chest. Sarah grabs your other hand, forming a chain of nervous anticipation.

"Third place goes to The Gingerbread Castle by the Carpenter family!"

You breathe out the breath you’ve been holding. Sarah bounces next to you, Joel stands still and calm next to you.

"Second place is awarded to…" the announcer pauses. "The Gingerbread Ski Lodge by the Padillas!"

Your heart pounds so hard you feel like you’re going to pass out. You try to focus on the soothing feel of Joel’s thumb stroking the back of your hand.

"And now for the grand prize winner of this year's Cedar Park Gingerbread House Contest is… The Gingerbread Clock Tower by Sweet Nothing Bakery!"

Time seems to slow down. The judge's lips move, but you can’t hear them over your heart beating. You only realize what’s happening when Sarah lets out an ear-piercing squeal and Joel's arm wraps around your waist.

Sarah jumps up and down and Joel pulls you close, planting a kiss on your cheek.

You feel like you’re floating as you walk to the stage and accept the grand prize ribbon. The crowd stares at you, cameras taking your victory photos, but all you can do is stare at Joel, a wide smile of support making his eyes disappear behind the crinkles at the sides.

As you step off the stage, you spot Mr. Bowe, who rushes over to you, his eyes twinkling with pride. “I knew you had it in you, my dear,” he says, patting your arm. “This will do wonders for you and your bakery.”

The realization hits you like a wave - you've won. Your bakery is going to be okay. More than okay, even. Tears of relief and joy prick at your eyes.

Joel notices the tears in your eyes as you rejoin him and Sarah at the table. He pulls you in for a hug. “Hey,” he says softly. "You did it. I knew you could."

You bury your face in his chest. "No, we did it," you respond, your voice muffled against the soft flannel of his shirt. "I couldn't have done this without you and Sarah."

When you pull back, you see Sarah beaming at you both, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Does this mean we get free cupcakes for life now?" she asks cheekily.

You laugh, wiping away a stray tear. "Absolutely.”

You weave through the throng of customers, carrying a tray laden with pastries. Gone are the quiet days of just you and your empty bakery. Sweet Nothing Bakery is now the bustling heart of Cedar Park’s downtown business district. Now, instead of quiet contemplation about your’s and your bakery’s future, your business is home to a line stretching out the door and a phone ringing off the hook.

You turn the OPEN sign to CLOSED, now exhausted from being busy all day, no longer overwhelmed from the worries of a failing business.

The jingle of the bell above the door interrupts your focus on counting the profits of the day, you look up and spot a familiar face.

“Long time no see,” you smile.

“It’s been a busy week for me with the holidays coming up,” he says, looking around at the empty display cases. ”Seems like your week was busier.”

He approaches the counter, it’s only been a week since you last saw him, seeing his dark brown eyes again makes you realize how much you’ve really missed him.

"I've been baking non-stop since we won the contest. I can barely keep up with demand."

Joel's lips quirk up in a half-smile. "I noticed the line when I drove by earlier.”

“I can’t thank you enough for all of your help, I couldn’t have done it without you… or Sarah.”

He smiles before cleaning his throat.

"So," he says, a hint of nervousness sounds in his voice. "I was thinking… maybe we could celebrate our victory properly? Maybe you’d like to grab dinner sometime?”

Your heart skips a beat and you can’t stop the wide grin that spreads across your face.

“I’d love that,” you reply. "But what about Sarah?"

Joel chuckles, running a hand through his hair. "Already taken care of. My brother was quite excited to learn that I finally got the nerve up to ask the cute girl from the bakery out. I think Sarah has been filling him in about everything. I think she might have been plotting this.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “She’s tenacious.”

“Tell me about it,” he nods with a grin. “So, that’s a yes?”

“Absolutely,” you respond, hope filling your heart.

[multific]

My Venus

Dmitri Kravinoff x Reader

Burlesque!AU 

Summary: He was drawn to you.

From the moment his eyes locked with yours.

He knew he had to have you.

You loved to tease men.

It was what you were paid to do.

You had a show, quite popular, they called you Venus Sherry. 

You worked in a bar as a burlesque performer.

Many people, men and women enjoyed your show to the fullest.

At the beginning of each, you would come out of a beautiful shell. Your routine was specifically designed to entertain all. 

But it seemed like you had caught the eye of a young man more than anyone else's in the bar.

Not much younger than you, he always sat at the VIP table with a glass of whiskey in front of him. 

Or could it be that he caught your eye? 

For the last few months, he has been coming to see your shows. He never missed one. 

"Frank? What's the name of the man at the VIP table?" the bouncer looked at you and shrugged his shoulders.

"Some Russian guy. I forgot his name... It was something with the letter D."

Mr D. You decided to call him.

He never gave you the vibes of other guests. They came to enjoy the show, some turned out to be full creeps but not him. He was mesmerized.

His eyes were filled with passion and admiration.

You liked that.

It wasn't only lust.

It was something new.

Something different.

Something exciting.

And it got more and more exciting as the days passed.

Each show you pretended there was no one else, only him and you.

You danced for him. You teased him.

And you smiled at him. 

You never smiled like that at anyone else.

"Frank?" you asked as your door opened.

"Mr D wants to see you." Frank said as you got up from your chair.

You were fully dressed, ready for your show but you had better things to do now.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you approached his desk, he quickly stood up to greet you.

He was short. 

Not like that mattered, but he was handsome, which did matter.

"Ms Venus Sherry, my name is Dmitri Kravinoff. It is a pleasure to meet you, I have been a huge fan of your... work." You handed your hand to him to shake but he kissed the back of it instead. "Please, take a seat."

And you did.

"So, Dmitri, nice to put a name to the face I have been seeing so often."

"May I know the real name of My Venus?"

You smiled at his request but you ended up telling him your name.

There was just something about him.

You needed to know more.

---

Dmitri Kravinoff is possibly the man of your dreams and desires.

He sent you flowers after all of your shows.

Red roses.

To show his love for you.

And you danced for him. 

You feared he only liked you because of Venus. You feared he believed in your illusion too much.

But he didn't.

His eyes said it all.

His eyes looked beyond the costumes and make up.

And so, it didn't take you long to quit your career as Venus Sherry. 

"I will take care of you. I promise." he whispered and he didn't lie. 

Dimitri asked you to move in with him and quit your job. You could see the jealousy in his eyes. 

He only wanted you for him.

"Others get Venus, but you have me as a woman, as Y/N." you told him.

You weren't sure if it was good to fall in love so quickly. But it was so easy to love him.

Not his name, not his business and not his money. But him, Dmitri.

You could tell he did everything to win you over with his money but in the end, it was he who captured your heart. 

You stood out on his balcony, looking over London with a cup of tea in your hands. It was morning, people were going to work as you watched them.

The arms that wrapped around you made you jump and almost spill your tea. 

"You scared me."

"What are you doing up so early?" he whispered into your neck.

"Couldn't sleep." 

"Didn't I tire you out enough?" you smiled at him as he turned you to face him.

"You did. I just have too many thoughts."

"You and your clever mind, My Love. I told you to let them all go."

"I know. And I will." his hand was placed on your cheek before it moved to your temple, he closed his fist as if collecting your thoughts and threw them away. 

"I love you so much." he said to you with a beautiful smile.

"I love you too Dimi."

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou 

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief 

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen @mel-vaz

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL ANY OF MY WORKS/

[rametarin]

It's because there's a political sleight of hand at play here.

So say you're some communistic piece of trash. What you really want is a conversation about how everything is classes and according to your big book of social "science," everything is absolutely about different classes either being the top or bottom and the bottom is an oppressed underdog victim, yay for victim, boo for oppressor. So according to their ideology, only socialism can fix this system that it insists everybody else uses as the basis for everything, and only socialism can fix it. You know, like how only St. Patrick and Catholicism could remove the snakes from Ireland.

Well, you need to tailor and sell your perspective to people that will listen. To do that, you capitalize on existing social problems, co-opt their identities and greviences and then turn your ideology into their narrative.

In the United States, there is and always has been that stain from race based slavery and eurocentrism/supremacism. While ethnosupremacism is not unknown on the world, it is/was the dominant force in the United States, where a great deal of infrastructure, money and human capital exists, and something socialists dearly want to co-opt in the name of socialism (and for some, then into communism.)

And on the other end, you have black people in America. They, also, had an ethnocentrist/supremacist population, but they were also a minority. Separatists that wanted to make their own separate nation and secede from the states without giving up the regional occupation, access to the US and etc. In short, people that have wanted more than just equality and personhood, but their own version of separate but equal- in their favor. They are no different from the Richard Spencers or David Dukes of the world in ideals, beliefs and function, and at no time is that more blatant and brazen than in a post-slavery, post-civil rights era society where men are equals and racism (positive or negative) is federally and state-wise illegal and discouraged, and punished with stigma.

This group still comes to the table with the belief that the trans-atlantic slave trade was the worst thing to happen, robbed black people of black independence from other races and groups, and believe they are owed that independence back from the rest of this society- which since it's not majority black or black owned, they will reject as white and white supremacist. It's not black, therefore, it's oppressive to the black.

And the black people that do not feel this way disagree with that but also, it's part of the black community and culture, and excising it is difficult to impossible. And in some areas of the US, the solidarity and comfort is either important, or necessary, if not just security and protection. Not unlike any ethnic enclave.

It's this population that the socialists like to roll up on and co-opt their struggles and the history. Socialists and communists in general hate ethnic separatism, however, they know how to degrade and co-opt movements and identities in generational waves. Capitalizing on the black community to try and get them to use Marxist lexicon and social arguments to describe and outline their greviances and mix telling real history with the generous interpretations of "Oppressed class vs. oppressor."

In the US, they use these story telling sleights of hands a lot. And we saw one up above. First going on about how "the slave trade" was white America's fault, and also greater Europe's fault. They emphasize that era, and leave you to erroneously conclude that there was no such thing as an African slave trade before Europe, in all their European supremacism, decided they wanted slaves and sub-human classes to toil for them as un-people. So they just randomls hit Africa with their technological supremacy and started netting black people, herding them into boats and then chaining them up, destroying their identities and culture and making them do labor as placid and ignorant victims.

They gladly allow you to remain just ignorant enough that you think there was no pre-existing slave trade and the respective brutality among native sub-Saharan Africans, they omit the Arabs and Berbers entirely, they talk about the numbers of black people sent to the Americas and leave out only about 10% of the total sent over landed in NORTH AMERICA, they try and make it seem like white people as Europeans just decided to get an identity or existence when they invented enslaving black people.

It's a very Afrocentrist view of history and the genesis of culture, and it's a very selectively cultivated one by educators that SHOULD know better, but they need black people and their stories and their support. And they get away with it, because of how many of them are in the American education system, free to omit things and emphasize things in curriculum and filibust conversations away from inconvenient, rounding truths that challenge Marxist interpretations of American history.

And then because it looks like you're just arguing against black personhood or trying to shrug off responsibility for terrible things done to black people, they put the spotlight on you to make you look like the worst kind of supremacist apologist, and have their little circle jerks and vagueposts talking about you to retain narrative.

The problem that happens, of course, is when you maintain such things as, "The Oppressor Class doesn't get to speak now! The Oppressed are talking!" then you get minority historians that point out these things and oh no something strange is happening to the narrative. People stop believing the very polished lies and start losing faith in what they're being taught by some very specific slanted bias from this very tainted perspective, and connecting the dots.

They NEED to connect slavery to Europeans and white people, they NEED to make it seem like it is comparable to and worse than the Holocaust, they NEED to make young black people upset and offended and feel like they're under attack from the outside by a hostile and oppressive majority state that outnumbers them and wants them miscegenated away. They NEED this narrative available for young tribalistic people, with the justifications of being minorities and adopting the language of Marxist dialectics, to validate their own insular views of themselves as a separate and distinct culture and community while also validating the Marxist interpretations to do it.

And they need to do that, because they marry white supremacism with capitalism, and claim the two are inextricably linked, and that to destroy white people is to destroy capitalism, and vice versa. Getting them invested in that as a matter of self-interest to how they see themselves, the world around them, the problems faced, their source and how to solve them.

THAT is why they are so keen on taking that window of history, shining a light on it and going, "White people are the devil, black people are the protagonist victims of this story, and the ending involves elimination of capitalism and inequality."

Also, slaves were usually bought secondhand from other Africans. Dahomey based their entire economy on “harvesting” slaves.

And we have the classic “bbbbut Atlantic slavery was WORSE than the other slavery!” This wasn’t the only genius, either.

“When the comic said ‘the slave trade’, it actually meant the Atlantic slave trade, specifically, not the many, many other slave trades. I honestly think White people created the Atlantic slave trade, and don’t realize Europeans just used an existing system.”

It’s kind of funny how these people only care about details and nuance* when it’s convenient.

* Which weren’t even in the comic, and still wouldn’t actually prove it right.

[cheriipetal]

The wrong side of the Altar

Synopsis: At your wedding, Rin is forced to face the feelings he’s long kept hidden from the start of your relationship with a man who wasn't him.

Oneshot | Word Count: 2414 | afab! Reader | Pure angst no comfort

The chatters of the guests blurred into an indistinct hum, grating his ears. The classical music, once a soothing melody, felt like mocking each note made his heart race. Even the chime of the bells felt like a countdown to the end of everything. Everything irritated him.

Weddings were supposed to be about love and new beginnings, but for him it marked his loss and regret. Bitterness clung to him like a second skin, suffocating and inescapable. He could still remember the moments where it was just you two— those fleeting, stolen seconds when he thought he’d always have time.

But time didn’t wait, he didn’t realise what you meant to him until you weren’t his to have. Until someone else saw your love and compassion, the laugh that felt like home, and claimed it while he was frozen, too proud, and too blind to act.

Now you were gonna stand in the altar with a man that wasn’t him.

His regret was piling up recalling the memories that he’d prioritize his goals and soccer over you. How you'd get upset but didn’t let him see it. He realised that it was probably because you thought you were hindering him from his success in achieving what he wanted.

His ears picked up your laughter. He stiffened as you adjusted his tie. The fabric wrapped between your soft and warm hands. His heart beat with every second of it. His eyes adjusted to your white dress, it fitted your complexion well. You always had a knack of finding things that compliment you well. That dress was the kind of thing you’d dream about.

“Rin, you look like a mess.” You playfully said, looping the tie around. “I want you to look good in the pictures— well, you’ll still look handsome even if you look like you haven’t slept for a week.” you teased him.

Rin’s lips turned into a line, he felt a gravel in his throat. “I’ve been busy,” his voice came through, almost distant.

He looked down at you, watching your fingers tie the knot. Did you even realise what you were doing to him?

“You shouldn’t worry how I look,” he added, still frowning, showing his indifference, “it’s not my wedding, after all.”

“Yeah, because you keep pushing women or even men away from you. You’re handsome, a star captain in the japan soccer team, you have money, you have decent— well sometimes decent personality sometimes.” You jabbed at him a bit.

Rin scoffed,“Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?” he shot back, his tone sharper than intended.

His gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in. “Maybe I just don’t see the point,” he muttered, barely loud enough for you to hear. “None of that matters if it’s not with the right person.”

“Then find them, if you really want to find the right person then don’t just be frozen in place, run and go.” You advised, finally done with his tie. You firmly straightened the fabric.

“What if I already found them?” His eyes showed vulnerability, itching for her to notice him. Wanting and longing for her to change her mind and be with him instead.

“Then what are you waiting for?” You encouraged him. Those words alone made him want to say he loved you right there.

But, he didn’t. Rin messed up a lot of things in his life. His blunt self made it harder to say what, how he felt— but it always came out wrong and not what he intended.

Rin’s heart skipped a beat at your words, the space between you suddenly feeling too small. He opened his mouth, the words almost there, but they choked in his throat. His gaze flickered away, as if afraid of what might slip out if he spoke.

“I... I don’t know if I can,” he muttered, his voice low and raw. “saying it now... it just feels too late.”

He caught your eyes for a split second, vulnerability in his own flickering like a dying flame. He wanted to say the words—he wanted to tell you how much he felt, how much he needed you—but the weight of all his failures kept him frozen

Some of the guests could be heard at the other side of the door. The awkwardness between them is heavy in the air. You pulled your hands back away from him. You weren’t sure how to break the silence between you two.

Rin’s gaze momentarily looks at the door, where the groom was laughing with others. He could feel his jaw tightened subconsciously. Everytime he even saw your fiance, he’d always have this scowl look.

You cleared your throat. Seeing the opening for a conversation, you took it, eyes lingering on Rin for a moment. “So… what do you think of him?”

Your voice was gentle, but there was an undercurrent of something else— an unspoken question hanging in the air.

.

Rin opened his mouth to answer but hesitated, his mind scrambling for the right words. What did he think of him? He couldn’t bring himself to admit it, even to himself.

All he could come up with was that he hated him—hated him for taking you away from him. Why did it take him so long to realize?

Soccer had always been his life—he’d worked for it, sacrificed for it. But it wasn’t enough. Not anymore. You were the one who mattered most. He had realized it too late, and now the realization gnawed at him, sharp and bitter.

“He’s... alright,” he finally said, his voice sounding distant even to his own ears. It was a weak, vague answer—one that concealed the raw truth.

“I’m surprised you didn’t fight him when I said he and I were dating, honestly. I was kind of scared for him because of how much you send death glares with every man that even flirted with me.” You say with an awkward chuckle. Recalling the memories of how Rin would act so fast.

Rin’s eyes narrowed at the countless memories, and a brief moment his face hardened. “They deserved it,” he said with indifference— but not aimed towards you, to them.

—

The music changed, signalling the bride's arrival. Rin’s gaze shifted involuntarily towards the aisle, his heart pounding with every note that played. Everything seemed to slow down around him, each step echoing louder than the last as you moved closer.

Everyone was at awe by your beauty, he didn’t blame them. He was enamoured by your movements— how you looked.

Rin’s thoughts raced, the weight of everything he couldn’t say settling heavily on his shoulders. As the soft murmur of the guests filled the air. He couldn’t shake the image of you standing besides him— if only things turned out differently.

The room was alive with quiet excitement, the glow of candlelight reflecting off the polished surfaces. Laughter drifted through the air, but all Rin could hear was the steady beat of his own heart—faster now, as if it too understood the finality of what was about to happen.

A soft chime echoed through the room, and the guests fell silent, their eyes turning toward the aisle. Rin’s breath hitched in his throat, unable to tear his gaze away from where you would soon stand, arm-in-arm with him—the man you’d chosen.

The two of you said your vows, said “I do” to the question, and made the first kiss of your marriage. His body felt cold like he was trapped in the pile of snow and it was numb. It felt like someone struck a poison into him. He hated this feeling, he experienced it before when Sae said those words that left a chokehold on him for years.

He needed a drink to wash all the pain away.

—

The venue you rented was beautiful but he was too busy swallowing in his misery to even enjoy the wedding reception. He sat down in the stool ordering a heavy drink.

You were married now, it was too late for him to do anything. He can only watch on the sidelines with you living your life with another man. The bartender then handed him the glass of alcohol.

He drank it to his heart's content. The alcohol was bitter— reflecting his own emotions back at him. Alcohol was distasteful and unhealthy, he doesn’t usually drink but he’ll make an exception for just this night, to not think.

“Really want to get into the mood, huh?” your husband talked to him. Rin was already in a bad mood, your husband made it even worse.

“I guess,” Rin said with indifference, he sipped on the drink more.

“You should be hanging out with the others instead of being here all alone, she’d want you to have fun!” The words stung more than the groom probably realized.

Did he think Rin could just ‘have fun’ when everything felt wrong? He could barely keep his thoughts straight, let alone smile for the sake of others

Rin gripped his glass harder, the cold surface pressing into his palm. He could feel his vision start to blur, the alcohol doing its work. But it didn’t numb the anger. It only made it sharper.

He could feel his jaw clench, his heart rate quicken. The groom didn’t know anything. He didn’t know the weight of this situation. And every word he said made Rin’s patience thin.

Then your husband notices Rin’s reactions. He knew what was up, and that he saw how Rin would look at you, how he’d loosen up when he was with you, and now he was miserable at the wedding.

“Hey, it’s tough, I get it,” the groom says. “But you’re a great guy, Rin. You’ve got so much going for you. Don’t beat yourself up. There’s always the future, right? Maybe even someone else out there for you too.”

The more your husband said, the worse it got for Rin. It wasn’t that the groom was wrong—he was just too far removed from what Rin was feeling.

It wasn’t about finding someone else or “moving on”—it was about the one person Rin couldn’t have anymore. The one person who was slipping further away with every passing second because of him.

His grip on the glass tightened, his knuckles turning white. “You don’t get it,” he muttered, bitterness seeping through his voice. “You think this is just some passing thing, that I’ll ‘get over with it’. You don’t know what it feels like you’ve lost everything…. Especially when you never got the chance to tell her how you even felt. So don’t just fucking sit there and tell me that everything is okay,” with every breath, he could smell the alcohol.

“I… I didn’t mean to upset you,” the groom said, a bit taken aback. “I’m just trying to help, man. You’re a good guy, Rin. You’ll be alright.”

“Can you shut it? You think you’re the one who gets to take her away, don’t you? You think you’re the perfect guy for her, but you don’t even see it. You’re just the safe option, the ‘right choice’ on paper. All you’ve done is show up with your polished image and your nice words, pretending like you’re everything she needs—

I’m not perfect, I never was. I screwed up, I pushed her away when I should’ve held on. But I’m the one who understands her. I know what makes her laugh when she’s sad. You’re just a lukewarm piece of trash that she pitied.” He let out all his anger. All his frustrations. With each word uttered it felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders but grew more distant with his stabled mind.

“Rin,” he felt his wrist being grabbed by soft hands. His eyes looked up to see you standing there with a mix of frustration and disappointment. He was being dragged to an empty room.

He knew what was about to come, you were gonna give him a lesson, scolding him like you used to do whenever he did shit like this.

"I get it, Rin. You’re hurt. I know you care about me, but this... this isn’t how you handle it. I won’t let you disrespect him and my choice. I won’t stand for it, not after everything we’ve been through.” You touched his shoulder gently.

“You made a shitty choice.” Rin said coldly. You could smell the alcohol in his breath, too far gone to think clearly right now.

“Rin, I am proud of my decision— I love him, he never pushes me away, he never makes me feel like I’m an idiot, he never makes me feel like I was his second priority. I don’t know why you don’t want this for me, can’t you see for once… that I’m happy?”

Rin’s eyes widened, his face twisting in anger, pain, and something else— something raw and almost desperate. “And you’re saying that you found someone who can see your feelings, prioritize and love you. Then what was I? Who the hell was I to you?!”

You stepped back, your chest tightening with a mix of guilt and sorrow. “A person I love,” you said, your voice almost a whisper now. “But who taught me that love isn’t always enough.”

You couldn’t stand it anymore, everything was too overwhelming for you. Rin was too hurt— you couldn’t look him in the eyes without feeling guilty. Feeling like shit, you turned around and left the room, hoping the silence would ease your thoughts.

As you left the room, it was just him with his thoughts. His gaze lingering on the doorway where you just left. His hands grip on his suit, wrinkling it, his knuckles turned white. “What was I?” the question echoed in his mind, a haunting refrain. The words that he spat out were wrong now.

His chest tightened for a moment, the alcohol buried in his veins, dulling the clarity he had left, but only left every once of guilt that he had. How could he let it get this far? He was too damn proud… to be caught up in his own world to notice you needed more than he was giving.

Now, there you were—standing with someone else, someone who could make you happy, someone who wasn’t him.

Rin clenched his fists and took a deep breath, but it didn’t help. Nothing could. He had missed his chance.

[dante2045]

Holiday Spirit

Luke looked up from his desk at the sound of knocking, seeing his husband standing in the doorway. Other than a brief greeting when he'd come back from work, Luke had barely seen Parker that night; he'd had to stay late for a big meeting with a prospective client and had retired to his office immediately upon coming home. Luke was up for a big promotion, and closing this deal would be a huge boon in his favour. Unfortunately that had translated into a lot of late nights, which Luke knew was starting to get on Parker's nerves.

"Are you ready to head out soon?" Parker asked, wrapping a scarf around his neck. He was dressed in an ugly Christmas sweater that Luke found cringeworthy. Parker loved Christmas and the festive season; Luke personally thought the whole thing was overrated, but did his best to tolerate the holidays on Parker's behalf.

"Oh shoot, I forgot about tonight," Luke lied. He'd remembered their plans, but had no intention of fulfilling them. He hoped that playing dumb would buy him some leniency.

Parker tried to hide his irritation, and was only partially successful. "You forgot about Christmas Eve?" He asked through gritted teeth, crossing his arms.

"Babe, you know how busy I've been at work lately. I need to get this proposal down ASAP if I want a chance at getting that manager position in January," Luke reasoned, rising from his desk and approaching Parker.

"So what? You're bailing on tonight?" Parker shook his head in disapproval. It was evident that Luke's attempts at charming his husband were falling on deaf ears.

"It's not that I want to! Believe me, I would love nothing more than to spend Christmas Eve with you and everyone else. But this proposal-" Luke started.

"Your proposal can't wait a few hours? What the hell am I going to tell everyone when I show up by myself?" Parker took a step back as Luke reached out for him.

"You could say I'm not feeling well?" Luke suggested.

"You're unbelievable sometimes, Lucas," Parker spat, turning to leave. Luke winced; Parker only used his full name when he was really pissed.

"Once I get through this week, things will be different," Luke promised, following Parker out into the hallway. "When I get this job, I'll be able to cut down on my hours."

"Funny, I remember hearing a similar promise at Halloween. And Thanksgiving. And countless other times," Parker muttered, sliding his boots on and grabbing his coat from the hall closet.

"What do you want me to say, Parker? Would it make you happy if I threw my career away for you?" Luke knew this argument wouldn't help things, but he felt his anger getting the best of him. How could Parker be so selfish to make everything about him? Didn't he realize that Luke wanted this promotion for the both of them?

"Always so melodramatic, Lucas," Parker rolled his eyes. He opened the front door but then paused at the barrier, turning over his shoulder to look Luke in his eyes. "I know this job is important to you, Luke. And I love you and support you. But I should also be important to you. I wish you'd at least make an effort to be a bit more festive at Christmas. If not for yourself, than for me." Before Luke could respond, Parker left their apartment and firmly shut the door behind him.

Luke groaned. He was going to be in the doghouse for all of tomorrow. He knew that this was important to Parker, but if Luke was honest he didn't really know why. Christmas was just another day of the year; the only difference is that it had been marketed as a special day for commercial purposes. The true meaning of Christmas, as far as Luke was concerned, was for the braindead population to spend their rent money on something they didn't need or couldn't afford, and in turn give CEOs a nice bonus to end out the year. Parker thought Luke's viewpoint was overly cynical, but Luke just saw it as reality.

Luke returned to his office to continue working away at his project. As rude as it was, he was kind of grateful to have the place to himself for the night; it was much easier to get things done without Parker's constant interruptions.

A text popped up on his phone from Parker. Made it to the party. Everyone's asking where you're at. Luke swiped the message away without responding. He knew that Parker was trying to make him feel guilty, and he had too much to do to deal with juvenal antics.

A few hours later, Luke's eyes burned from staring at his laptop screen for so long. He got up to grab a glass of water from the kitchen, staring at the living room couch in envy. He glanced at his watch; he'd made good progress on his work and still had a few hours before Parker would be home, and decided a quick break wouldn't hurt.

Luke let himself sink into the sofa, pressing his head against the padded cushion. He'd take a 5 minute recharge, then get back to work. He struggled to keep his eyes open, fighting the urge to sleep...

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A loud knock at the door woke Luke up from his sleep. He sat up on the couch, checking the time and cursing when he realized that he'd slept for nearly two hours. It was just after midnight; Parker would be home soon. It was probably him at the door now, locked out from forgetting his keys during his tantrum earlier on. With a big stretch, Luke reluctantly stood from the couch and went to the front door.

He unlocked and pulled it open, expecting to see an impatient Parker on the other side. Instead of Parker, a stranger stood at the door. Luke was surprised but not immediately alarmed; they lived near the downtown core, and from time to time a drunkard who was lost knocked on their door for directions.

The man standing in front of him appeared to be in his mid-fifties, with short white hair and a neat, closely trimmed beard. He was dressed as Santa, with red pants and jacket. The jacket was undone and the man was shirtless underneath, showing his beer belly and thick pecs. Luke wasn't really into older guys, though he did feel an immediate attraction towards this stranger; he was handsome and rocked his dad bod.

"Merry Christmas, young man," The stranger greeted in a booming voice, a big dumb grin on his face.

"Do you need help, sir?" Luke asked. He crossed his arms, shivering from the cold wind blowing in through the open door. How was this man not wearing a shirt in the freezing cold?

"No, no, I'm quite alright, though thank you for asking. I'm actually here on business," The man answered.

Luke arched an eyebrow. "Oh really? And what business might that be?"

"Why, don't you recognize me?" The man asked, astonished as he gestured downwards at his outfit. "I'm Santa!"

Luke had half a mind to slam the door shut in this man's face. He was not in a mood to deal with this nonsense and had work he needed to get back to. At the same time, the man was clearly inebriated and Luke didn't feel comfortable leaving him to brave the cold weather in his delirious state. Luke gave the man a quick once over; he seemed harmless enough, nonsensical ramblings notwithstanding.

"Well, why don't you come in, Santa, and I'll call you a cab to get you back to workshop?" Luke offered, standing aside to let the man enter. The stranger seemed affable to this suggestion, stepping inside.

"I think I left my phone in my office. I'll just go grab it," Luke said as he shut the front door. "I'll be back in a second."

"Yes, yes, working all night on Christmas Eve. Not very festive of you, Lucas," The man admonished him.

Luke froze, turning to look at the stranger with a newfound wariness. How had he known his name?

"Do I know you?" Luke asked, taking an apprehensive step away from the stranger. Maybe inviting him into his home wasn't the smartest idea after all.

"I'm Santa, I know everybody." The stranger let out a deep chuckle.

"Did Parker put you up to this? Is this some kind of prank?" Luke took another apprehensive step away from the stranger. If he needed to defend himself, could he get a weapon from the kitchen before the man reached him?

"There's no need for that. I have no plans to physically harm you," The stranger said. Luke felt a chill wash over him; this man had heard his inner thoughts. Who the hell was this guy?

"I think it's best you leave," Luke said firmly, gesturing towards the door. This was getting too weird for him; let the old man fend for himself, he decided.

"I can't leave yet. Like I said, I'm here on work," The man replied calmly, still smiling at Luke.

"Listen, dude. I'm not going to ask a second time. Either you leave or I make you leave." Luke eyed the table lamp beside him. It would make for a decent weapon, worst case scenario.

"You are thinking very naughty thoughts right now, Luke," The man scolded. He raised his hand and snapped his fingers, bright sparks shooting from his fingertips. Luke tried to grab the lamp to defend himself, but his body wouldn't move. It was like he'd been frozen from the neck down.

"What the hell, man? What the fuck is going on?" Luke cried out in fear. He could still move his neck and head to look around the room, but otherwise he'd been paralyzed in place.

"You need to listen better, Luke. I've already told you who I am; you should know what I am capable of."

As impossible as it was to believe, Luke could find no other logical explanation for what was happening. Maybe the man standing in front of him really was Santa?

"Santa? Why are you doing this to me?" Luke hated hearing the shakiness of his voice, but couldn't control the fear surging through him.

"Like I said, I am here on business. Your husband Parker, he's been a very good boy this year. And for Christmas he wished you would be in the festive Christmas spirit." Santa snapped his fingers again, sparks flying through the air. Luke's clothes began to shift; his black sweatpants brightened to red as the loose material tightened around his lower body. His t-shirt dematerialized, leaving him shirtless and revealing his chiseled upper body.

"Very nice body, Lucas. I can see that you definitely didn't miss out on your workout regimen this year," Santa commented, admiring Luke's bare chest.

"Please, man, stop whatever it is you're doing," Luke pleaded. He was still unable to move, at the mercy of Santa's powers.

"It's not up to me. I'm just fulfilling Parker's wish," Santa explained, snapping his fingers again.

At first, Luke wasn't sure what Santa had done. It didn't seem anything was different, until he looked down and saw his legs widening in his pants. A padding of fat grew in along Luke's calves and thighs, leaving them muscled but with much less definition. Luke looked at his butt to watch his tight ass expand with fat as well, growing round and juicy in his pants.

"What the hell are you doing to me, man? My body!" Luke cried out in protest.

"Parker wished for you to be more festive during Christmas," Santa laughed, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Can you think of anyone jollier than me?"

Santa snapped his fingers again, and Luke could feel his cock start to harden in his pants. He looked down at his erection, the bulge clearly visible through the tight pants he was wearing. Luke had always thought he'd been of average size; not particularly big but packing enough not to be embarrassed about it. His erection started to retract, shrinking in length but growing in girth. His dick was now a short, thick chode.

"Fuck, man, please stop!" Luke shouted, despairing at his reduced manhood. "I learnt my lesson, I need to be a better husband."

Santa didn't say anything, instead just snapping his fingers yet again. Luke wanted to cry as he watched his abs fade away, softening as his stomach ballooned outwards into a round belly. His pecs swelled outwards, staying firm with muscle whilst also growing rounder and drooping. Luke's broad shoulders slimmed down as his entire frame was compressed, reducing his height. His arms remained muscular and toned, their definition softening under a padding of fat.

"Santa, please! This is not what Parker meant when he wished I was more festive," Luke tried one last time to get Santa to stop his magic.

"He should've been more specific, then," Santa shrugged nonchalantly with one last snap of his fingers.

Luke's dark brown hair lightened to a snowy white as a beard sprouted along his chin and lips. His face softened, his defined cheekbones fading from view as laughter lines were etched on his rounded face. His eyes lightened to a warm welcoming blue while his eyebrows grew thick and bushy. A thin layer of dark grey hairs sprouted along his pecs and stomach, a treasure trail forming from his belly button down towards his crotch.

With the transformation complete, Luke found himself able to move again. He quickly ran to the hallway mirror, shocked at his own reflection. He looked just like Santa! Though initially filled with horror, Luke quickly found himself appreciating his new bod. He was still hot; if anything, his belly and man tits actually made him sexier! And the white hair and beard really gave him a sophisticated look.

Luke spun around to face the original Santa, who was still smiling at his handiwork. Santa reached out a hand and gently gripped Luke's dick through his pants, which was still rock hard.

"Mind if I take a quick inspection down there?" Santa asked with a wink, "I like to give all my presents a final check before delivering."

Luke was so horny he could barely speak, instead just nodding in agreement. Santa got down on his knees and unbuckled Luke's pants, sliding them down to reveal Luke's hardon. Santa gently stroked Luke's cock before opening his mouth and swallowing it whole. Gripping Luke's fat ass for support, Santa hungrily sucked on Luke's cock. The pleasure from Santa's blowjob was overwhelming, and Luke's panting increased as he neared orgasm. It was so much better being Santa, Luke thought, moaning as he blew his load down Santa's throat. He couldn't wait to spread the Christmas joy far and wide.

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Luke sat up from his desk, wakened by the knocking at the door. Panting heavily, Luke quickly looked down at his body, relieved to see his muscular, fit body back to normal. He opened his phone and looked at himself in the camera, relaxing at seeing his own reflection rather than Santa's. The whole encounter with Santa must have been some crazy dream.

Luke looked up to see Parker standing in the doorway, frowning in concern. He was still wearing that stupid Christmas sweater, but Luke had never been so happy to see his husband before.

"Are you alright?" Parker asked warily. "You're drenched in sweat."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," Luke nodded. He jumped up from his desk and embraced Parker in a tight hug, much to his husband's surprise. "I just had a bad dream, that's all."

"Well, I was just getting ready for tonight. Are you ready to go soon?" Parker asked.

Luke glanced over his shoulder at his laptop. The project was still waiting; Luke knew taking the night off would put him behind. Luke returned to his desk, grabbed the lid of his laptop and slammed it shut before grinning at his husband.

"Yeah, let's head out."

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Hey everyone, just wanted to thank you all for giving my blog your support over the past couple of months. This will be my last post for 2024, so wishing everyone Happy Holidays and a great start to 2025!

[matrixbearer2024]

I had an ask about this regarding my AU but I don't know what happened to it after I saw it in my inbox cuz it might be tumblr being funny but essentially it was just:

"Does West Coast Tech still exist? Why didn't Ford go to West Coast Tech?"

Short answer is, he simply didn't want to in this AU. West Coast Tech is among the Ivy Leagues in my AU and BMU still exists too, it still has the prominent reputation of being a back-up university.

In this AU ultimately Ford never really developed the mindset that he was "special" and had to make a point of it or prove that he was somebody. Because of their upbringing, there wasn't a "preference" others had towards either twin because Filbrick disliked them equally and their academic and extracurricular skills basically made them break even. There wasn't a stupid twin/smart twin between them and Caryn made damn sure about it.

Possibly the only thing that most people say about the two is that they're "smart but stupid" because of all the trouble they get wrapped up in doing whatever or being too curious for their own good.

The teachers or coaches didn't favor one twin over the other either and they were generally liked by their peers. Ford didn't end up with that sense of arrogance that you can typically see in canon where he believes he is above the rest and he has to be and Stan didn't develop that inferiority complex compared to his sibling.

In this AU, Ford had the option to go to West Coast Tech but even throughout senior high he already knew that a good university could really only get you so far. He was a sharp tool yes, but... he didn't think that edge would really push him far. He had an edge, but it wasn't much.

There's a lot of gifted people nowadays and even good credentials aren't going to guarantee a decent job or a stable career, that's if you can even get a job right away.

The science project and everything was still what gave him the opportunity and Stan even congratulated him for scoring that high but Ford wasn't really pleased? I'm not sure with the word but he wasn't exactly happy with the circumstance. They didn't fight over it considering all throughout highschool they kept talking about potential careers and whatnot.

It didn't help that Filbrick encouraged the idea of West Coast Tech because of how much money Ford could potentially make. Even so, Ford was stupidly skeptical after seeing the pamphlet and researching online. Realistically it seemed too good to be true, and he couldn't even sleep on it from how much he kept thinking.

Stan knew he would likely take longer to figure things out but he'd get there, and he was willing to let Ford just reach for the stars as he always did. They still have that dream of sailing around the world as adults but it's a lot more defined and realistic compared to how they planned it in canon. They're thinking, work hard, get rich, then retire early to sail and travel around the world. If their paths split early, they'll find a way back when they grow up. They always do.

It's something they constantly talk about because they both desperately want to move out after graduation just to get the hell away from Filbrick. It doesn't matter where they end up they just need to get away.

Even so, Ford mulled over the offer and decided to visit the university before making his decision. His gut feeling was both parts right and wrong, sure— what he thought was too good to be true was the actual reality of the school and it's pursuit of academic excellence, but he was right to be skeptical after he noticed the snobbish and arrogant nature most of the students have. It's a common thing for ivy leagues to have that mentality that they're the cream of the crop. The best there is. Not everybody is like this of course, but sometimes the loudest crowd doesn't always have to be the majority.

It does take a lot of work to get to their level and to stay at that level but Ford couldn't see himself in that school. He didn't want to allow himself into that crowd where he knew it would potentially make him worse off as a person. Also, he had the entirety of undergrad to get through, if he so much as wanted to transfer to an Ivy League to get his masters or doctorate he knew he could! So what was the rush?

University was a stepping stone and he had time, he knew he could do a lot but he didn't need to rush. So... Ford turned down the offer.

Sadly, it was pretty much as chaotic(bad) as you'd think.

Of course, that meant looking for another university instead and it was mostly Stan who did the research this time because Ford was too burnt out and sulky after everything. He knew he made the choice that would inherently grant him more happiness, but it doesn't always feel like that right away and it didn't help that the walls were paper thin. It's hard to fall asleep to your parents yelling and throwing things around in a fight because of a decision you made.

Both of them had generally pretty good track records academically and a long list of achievements to follow it so it wasn't hard for them to find universities either. That's how they ended up with Graviton University in Oregon, it's not an Ivy-league but it's not as bad as BMU either. It really is just a stepping stone in the middle, your performance practically shapes the path you walk on.

The Stan twins have a choice in this AU mostly because they could also afford it, take note- the family is financially comfortable in this AU because Filbrick is one hell of an unscrupulous businessman but very successful. They're not rich but they're comfortable, and that's a lot in the state of the economy nowadays.

Ford has choices in this AU and it's also a very big part to play in why he could turn down the offer at the time and not look back at it with regret. Stan also being on even ground beside his brother is why they don't ever fight about such topics either, he's not ever chasing after Ford— he's standing right next to him.

The subtle differences from canon can genuinely just make a world of difference in the bigger picture. But yeah, it's why I had them go to Graviton University instead. It's a middle-ground and it's also how I can essentially get them to stay in gravity falls instead of ending up elsewhere when I cranked the "weirdness" level pretty low. There's still bits and bobs of it around, but not to the degree of the canon show I would think.

I hope this generally clears up how I wrote or my thought process as to why I didn't have Ford reach for the stars despite having that option and why the Stan Twins are generally this tight knit in my AU.

[webco-dawnn]

Haikyuu First Year Headcanons !!

Tsukishima

When you ask to try on his glasses, he'd let out a scoff and say no, but with a little more begging, he eventually gives in and lets you try them on. He will never admit it, but seeing you with his glasses on (even if he couldn't see too well) was a cute sight he'd remember forever.

I know this is kinda cliche since this is in every headcanon post ever, but you two have study dates, sometimes with the other first years tagging along. But when it's just the two of you, he'll visibly be a little more gentle. When you don't understand something, he'll act annoyed that he has to explain it again, but in reality he actually doesn't mind and really likes it when you ask for help since it known that you feel safe around him.

One time Akiteru walked in on you guys cuddling. Tsukishima paid Akiteru half of his allowance for a month to keep him quiet about it. (Though Akiteru wasn't even going to tell anyone in the first place, but money is money, so he accepted it)

Tsukishima doesn't really enjoy pda.. he thinks it's gross to watch couples make out in the corner of a room or to the side of the hallway, but he'll make exceptions for you. if you wanna hold hands in front of a crowd, you bet he's going to. Before he leaves his last class to go to volleyball practice, he'll press a quick kiss to your cheek, forehead, or even your lips if he feels like it. but that's the most he'll ever do.

Kageyama

EVERYTHING is a competition between you two. Who can get to class first, who can text back the fastest, etc. But it's always a friendly competition. If he sees that you're not in the mood for it, he won't push it, and instead push everything else away to make sure that you're okay.

Sometimes he'll just have his head in your lap, your hands playing with his hair while he rants about volleyball. Whether you understand it or not, he's glad that you at least listen to him rant about the one thing he loves the most (he loves you more, of course)

Sometimes (most of the time) he gets bad grades which often ends in tutoring by you.. Even though you two are supposed to be tutoring after school, most of the time it ends in cuddling or making out. There has never been a successful tutoring session between you two.

sometimes he'll just invite you over to have "napping dates" which is exactly what it sounds like. he'll ask you if you wanna come over, when you come over, you two will cuddle in bed and nap together. He often asks this after a stressful test or a stressful game that's about to come up. it usually calms the both of you down.

Hinata

He'll try and get you to play volleyball with him, begging for hours on end. When you finally give in to play with him, he starts explaining the basics with a cute spark of excitement lighting his eyes up. If you get injured, he'll tend to those injuries with no complaint, only asking you if you're okay the whole time. (And apologizing, saying that it was his fault for dragging you outside and playing volleyball with him.)

You're most likely taller than him, and if you are, you have to bend down to give him a kiss. Sometimes, you tease him. When you can tell that he wants a kiss, you sometimes don't bend down, which results in Hinata jumping up and clinging onto you to get to your height. If you're shorter than him or just about the same height as him, he'll still cling onnto you like a koala.

Even if he is shorter than you (maybe, idk how tall you guys are..) he's still the big spoon. He loves recieving cuddles and all, but he likes giving out cuddles and affection more. He'll wrap his arms tightly around you, keep you close, tightening his grip every few minutes. He'll press kisses to your forehead and whisper how pretty you are into your ears while playing with a few strands of your hair.

Once Hinata gets comfortable in his relationship with you, he will never leave you alone. he's like a little lapdog. he'll climb into your lap randomly, lay his head on your chest and just listen to your heart beat, shower your face in soft kisses while you're trying to study. he's a sucker for affection.

Yamaguchi

He gets a little nervous when showing any affection. When he grabs onto your hand to hold, his palm is a little clammy and kinda sweaty since he's pretty anxious.. He'll keep a tight hold on your hand, not letting go unless you want to, of course. he doesn't want to scare you off by acting possessive.

Right after he confesses how he feels about you, (which happened at the end of lunch in the hallway) his next class was about to start, so he impulsively leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before running away.

Anytime you call him a pet name or nickname he gets FLUSTERED. his face turns red, he starts stuttering and stumbling over his words, he's visibly SHAKING. but he loves it. he's just a little nervous ..

Yamaguchi LOVES it when you play with his hair. when you cuddle with him, he tries to sneakily get you to play with his hair by tucking his head right beneath your chin. Or he'll say something like, "I don't mind if you play with my hair.. y'know.. if you wanna," just to try and coax you to do it. you catch onto it pretty quickly, but you're not even mad. it's cute how he tries to get you to play with his hair without outwardly saying it. but you end up fidgeting with his hair Everytime.

[blitzwhore]

Stolas just standing there and letting blitz hug him in the end is all good, right? He is just sad because of octavia and accepting that blitz is there with him right?? It's not that he regrets chosing him, right??? (I just need affirmation)

You know what? I've found myself needing reassurance about this too. So let's take a moment to look at the facts together, shall we?

(This reply turned out way longer than I expected it to 😅 sorry!)

Fact #1 - Stolas is still coming to terms with the consequences of his actions. He spends the whole episode finding out just how much his life has changed. Learning how to navigate groceries, and laundry, and meals, and having a job, and worrying about money.

Mid-episode, he has a breakdown where he truly questions if everything he gave up was worth it just for a fantasy. At this point in the episode, he still hasn't realised how much he means to Blitz. As far as he's concerned, he did all of this for someone who doesn't reciprocate his feelings. But by the end of the episode, though, his feelings have settled enough to understand and express what he has known to be true all along: that saving Blitz was the right thing to do.

What Stolas regrets isn't saving Blitz's life, or even loving Blitz in the first place.

What he regrets are the choices he made that led them to this. He feels guilty for selfishly (or, rather, naively) playing out his fantasies. He's the one who established the deal, who let Blitz illegally use the book for many months, who wasn't always sensible about how he expressed his love for Blitz publicly and despite being married, and who allowed himself to ignore the reality of his situation so he could live in his own, personal romcom—all of which ultimately led to the events of Mastermind and the loss of Via.

And all the guilt and regret he's grappling with (however justified it might be) is exacerbated by fact #2, which is:

Fact #2 - Stolas is off his medication. He's been off it for a month now. Symptoms of depression (especially untreated depression) include mood swings, irritability, self-hatred and low self-esteem, passive/active suicidal ideation, pessimism and hopelessness about the future, catastrophising, black-and-white thinking, and anhedonia (inability to feel pleasure and to find joy in things—and people—who used to bring you it). All symptoms Stolas exhibits throughout this episode.

So, even if he shows a lack of emotion toward Blitz at times, or irritation to seemingly minor things like low doors or "secretating" or Karen's behaviour, even if he acts regretful and angry and desolate... a lot of these emotions and behaviours are a result of his depression, and not of actually hating the life he chose.

Fact #3 - Stolas loves Blitz. He always has, and always will. I could point at a thousand different moments in the show when Stolas' love for Blitz has transpired, but I'm going to leave it at his line from Mastermind: "I would rather be dead than live life without you by my side."

Even after everything they've gone through, even now that he's taken Blitz off his pedestal and can acknowledge that Blitz can be a fucking idiot... Stolas simply does not want to live a life without Blitz. It has always been Blitz. It will always be Blitz.

Stolas loves Blitz.

Fact #4 - Stolas kissed Blitz. Before he truly hits rock bottom as a result of Octavia cutting him out, Stolas is so ecstatic that Blitz cares, that Blitz was willing to go to such lengths to save his life, that he can't hold back the need to kiss Blitz mid-air. Suddenly, none of his earlier frustration matters. Nothing matters expect for how elated he is that Blitz loves him back. So he smiles and he pulls Blitz into a kiss because he can't bear not to kiss Blitz for a moment longer.

Look at this man. Look at how happy he is. Because it's always been Blitz, and maybe it was a fantasy for a long time, but it doesn't have to be anymore. Maybe this can be real now. He's so happy he (and I) could cry.

Fact #5 - Stolas didn't deny loving Blitz. When Via said "You don't love me, you love him," the script very purposefully did not have Stolas go "no, no, Via, that's not true—" or say anything else that might make Blitz doubt, even for a moment, that Stolas loves him. Because that much is true. He does love Blitz. He just also loves Via. Which brings me to:

Fact #6 - Blitz knows Stolas loves him. At no point throughout the episode does Blitz doubt, even for a second, that Stolas loves him. And we know this because Blitz's walls remain down at all times. If Blitz doubted he was loved, if he had even the slightest of reservations, those walls would come crawling back up whether he wanted them to or not. It's what he's been trained and conditioned to do—it's how he's kept his heart safe ever since the accident.

But now, he knows his heart is safe with Stolas. He believes it enough to not depend on his walls to feel at ease. He believes it enough to let himself take care of Stolas and be soft with Stolas without the slightest trace of hesitation.

Look at Blitz's face. This is the face of a man who knows that even if Stolas isn't okay right now, things will get better. And when they do, they'll both still be in love with each other. This is the face of a man who can't wait for something beautiful to flourish between them, but who is in no rush to get there. He knows the road ahead is hard and painful, but he has faith in Stolas. In both of them.

Fact #6 - Stolas was happy to share a private, romantic dance with Blitz. Despite everything going through his mind, he found comfort and happiness in dancing with Blitz; in getting to have this little moment with him.

He found relief in the fact that Blitz stayed with him this time, even after Stolas told him, once again, that he didn't have to stay.

His reaction to Blitz initiating a dance between them is genuine surprise, immediately followed by an enamoured little smile at the mere notion that he gets to have this, now.

And, as they dance, he keeps smiling and leaning into Blitz, going as far as to manage a deep, heartfelt laugh at Blitz's words. This, for an unmedicated, depressed person going through one of the worst days of his life, is huge in itself. It shows that, even in the worst of times, he finds undeniable comfort and happiness in Blitz.

And, after their dance, Stolas looks at Blitz with a sobriety and soft sort of realisation that shows he's finally coming to terms with the fact that this is real. After everything he's lost, after all the fantasies he hoped for for so long and believed he'd never have, he finally gets to have this.

Despite the pain he's going through, Stolas looks at Blitz and sees the man he loves.

Notice how Blitz's eyes trail down to Stolas' mouth. And Stolas realises. And doesn't move away. Waiting, expectantly, for Blitz's next move, fully expecting it to be a kiss.

But then Blitz hugs him instead, and Stolas doesn't hug back.

And it's not because he doesn't want to be hugged by Blitz. It's not because his feelings for Blitz have changed, or dimmed, or disappeared. It's not because he regrets loving Blitz, or saving him. It's not because he doesn't want to have a close, healthy, loving romantic relationship with Blitz.

It's because of facts #1 (he's grappling with so much guilt and coming to terms with the consequences of his actions) and #2 (he's experiencing symptoms of unmedicated depression). And, above all, it's because of fact #7, which is...

Fact #7 - Stolas doesn't know how to be loved. Stolas has never had support. He has never had a shoulder to cry on, or someone to hold him when he needed it. When he's feeling vulnerable and broken, he defaults to hugging himself as a way to self-soothe, because that's the only comfort he's ever known.

And because he's never known comfort from others—because it was never allowed or safe for him to need or ask for comfort from others—all Stolas knows to do with his vulnerability is hide it. So much so that, the two times we see him begin to break down in front of Blitz, he either portals Blitz away or masks his tears and pain immediately. Even as he drunkenly rambles about wanting to be held, he still makes sure not to appear like he actually needs a hug.

So when he finds himself being held by Blitz in a warm, comforting hug, Stolas doesn't know how to respond. Because he's never had this. He's never had an opportunity to learn how to exist in someone's comforting embrace, how to interact with this kind of physical contact. He still has to learn how to feel safe between arms that aren't his own.

Simply put, Stolas still doesn't know how to hold Blitz back.

That doesn't mean Stolas doesn't want or need physical comfort. He needs it desperately—everyone does. But wanting something and knowing how to actually have it are two very different things, and Blitz knows that better than anyone, because he's wanted Stolas for a very long time, but didn't, until very recently, know how to feel safe accepting Stolas' love.

And that's why Blitz is completely understanding of the fact that all Stolas can do, all Stolas has the ability to do, is stand there and let himself be held, and let his emotions go through him. In, and out, with every breath, with every second. And get slowly acquainted with what being comforted by the person he loves feels like.

Thirty-something years of trauma can't be undone in a single hug, or a single conversation, and it's going to take time for Stolas to learn how to be present while in Blitz's arms, and how to return that emotional closeness.

But Blitz has faith in him. Blitz is willing to be patient and soft with him while he gets better. Blitz is ready to meet Stolas where he's at, because he knows, beyond a trace of doubt, that they love one another, and they're going to be okay. Even if Stolas doesn't know it yet—even if we, the audience don't know it yet—Blitz knows.

And that's just going to have to be enough for now.

And because this post got completely away from me, I shall conclude by quoting their song, because it summarises their story better than I ever could:

Truer love is hard to find. ❤️

[rxmxa]

The Leo-Aquarius Axis Redefined pt. 2 ⚡ 🧪⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Part One on the Leo-Aquarius Axis (Good to Read for Reference)

I was watching some intense video footage with my friend after something really brutal and chaotic happened in my neighborhood. Watching it alone was overwhelming because there was so much violence and chaos happening back to back. But then I re-watched it with my Aquarius stellium friend. And when I say stellium, I mean stellium. This girl is an Aquarius Sun, Mercury, Mars, Venus, Rising, with a Capricorn Moon and Uranus in the 10th house. She is genuinely the smartest person I know.

What I didn’t fully realize until that moment was just how good Aquarius energy is at processing information. Aquarius is an air sign, which means it thrives on mental challenges and intellectual stimulation. But it’s also fixed, which gives it a steady and sustained focus that doesn’t waver. Symbolically, Aquarius is the Water Bearer. It pours out knowledge, deep and distilled, offering it to the world. In moments of chaos, it feels like Aquarius processes everything at light speed, distills the important parts, and hands you the answers in such a breezy and nonchalant manner all like, “Oh, you didn’t notice that incredibly specific detail?”

While we were watching the footage, she kept pausing to point things out. She would say, “Look here, see his hand? Notice how he flinched.” Then she would rewind and say, “Listen again, did you hear what he said? He said ‘xyz.’” By the end of the night, mostly thanks to her, we had pieced together the timeline of what happened.

It was a heavy experience, but it also got me thinking about something I had written before about the Leo-Aquarius axis.

In that post, I said:

“If you are struggling to shine and develop your self-expression (Leo), look at the opposite of that (Aquarius), where you might need to release and let go of pressure. Especially internal pressure, since air sign energy is so connected to our thoughts and intellect. This sets the stage for success that feels aligned with your most genuine self.”

At the time, I was so focused on this idea of detachment leading to success that I wrote:

“The 11th house (Aquarius) rules your profits from your career, while the 5th house (Leo) rules your creativity and hobbies. Think about how many people have created art (5th house) without worrying about success or money, only to find widespread acclaim and rewards (11th house). In interviews, they always say, ‘I never imagined this would happen. I never imagined I would reach so many people.’ Why? Because they had detached. And that mindset can take you far.”

While that’s absolutely true, I realized I hadn’t fully considered the depth of this axis.

Aquarius isn’t just about letting go and hoping for the best. You don’t magically detach and suddenly see success show up in your Leo house.

Yes, you need to release expectations in your Aquarius house. But Aquarius isn’t about not caring. It’s about caring deeply for the process itself. It’s about learning for the sake of learning. Aquarius is the mad scientist energy, the inventor, the one who experiments and explores because it’s fascinating and because it feeds them.

Wherever Aquarius is in your chart, that’s where you need to step into that energy. It’s where you become the mad scientist, endlessly curious and driven to learn and discover. You absorb information, try new things, and gather knowledge for the sake of it. That process becomes the fuel that allows your Leo house to shine.

Aquarius prepares and strategizes, and Leo performs and shines. Success aligns when both energies are flowing together.

Aquarius builds the blueprint. It is the blueprint. Then Leo distributes it to the world. That’s where success or even monetization comes in. But it’s always at your pace, and always through doing what you love.

How I Applied This in My Own Life

This realization hit me on such a personal level because I have struggled with 6th house themes my entire life. My weight, my routines, building habits, staying consistent. etc. No matter how hard I tried to force structure into my day-to-day life, it just never clicked. I would start strong, burn out, and then spiral into frustration.

But when I stopped trying to force myself into systems that didn’t fit me and leaned into my Aquarius 12th house energy, everything shifted. I stopped seeing my habits as rigid checklists and started treating them like little experiments. I became curious, open to trial and error, and focused on the process instead of the outcome.

Suddenly, my 6th house started to thrive. My health (gut health, mental health, lost 15 pounds) improved, my daily routines felt sustainable (set boundaries at work), and consistency became something I didn’t have to force anymore. It became second nature to be this new version of me.

The Leo-Aquarius Axis Guide

Your Lab. Your Blueprint. Your Strategy.

This guide isn’t just theory to me. it’s something I’ve lived, tested, and refined. It breaks down the Leo-Aquarius axis house by house, with specific and detailed examples, actionable steps, and practical tips you can actually use.

If you’ve ever felt torn between wanting to shine like Leo and strategize like Aquarius, this guide will show you how to:

Identify your Aquarius Lab and your Leo Stage

Create a sustainable cycle of preparation (aqua) and performance (leo)

Use both energies to create confidence, clarity, and success

get the guide here: ✨ [Mastering the Leo-Aquarius Axis] ⚡ 🧪⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

I’ll be keeping it at 30% off for this week, and then on Sunday, December 29th, the price goes up! 💖

Tuning into this axis with my own chart was a game changer for me. I feel so much more secure in my body and mental health, all because I took that leap of faith and used my chart to uncover answers.

I poured so much care and detail into this guide, and I’m genuinely so excited to share it with you.

Con mucho amor, Ramona 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

[countdykulaa]

﹟ ⠀ ⠀ 𝟎𝟎𝟏 ⠀ . ⠀ ⠀ LUXURIOUS⠀ ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ⠀ ❪ ⠀ spoilt! reader x sevika ⠀ ❫r

you're spoiled rotten . you know it . your brother knows it and sevika's poor wallet sure knows the fact . your mother gave you everything she could though you weren't by any means rich . you went to the best schools a lower middle class family could afford thanks to a scholarship, a fancy pair of shoes bought every couple years in contrast to your peers and even went overseas on your own a few times . this rather ordinary upbringing did little to deter the pit of greed rotting your teeth away with each request .

where your mom fell short your looks picked up . all you had to do was walk down the street on a friday night and all your drinks would be paid for . you don't know what it was about you or where the sudden shift came from , but everyone around you looked at you less like the invisible one , doomed to join the shadows and more like the one with stars dancing on their skin . it took a while getting used to it , but after a while peoples generosity turned less into a gift and more into a quiet expectation . all this to say sevika swears she found you like this .

she swears the entitlement in your eyes was shining big and bright under those fluorescent lights the minute she locked eyes with you at a club with your friends . you were probably half her age , still raw with a rebellious look . she knew the moment her eyes trailed down to the scandalous two piece you had on that you wouldn't give her the time of day if she didn't buy your whole table drinks . sevika knows your type and by the way you tilt your head and gaze at her , unabashed you know hers too .

what initially started as a drunken one night stand turned into something more but it was by no means an accident . sevika took the initiative , asking you on the date while the taste of your pussy was still lingering on her tongue . you responded with a nod of the head and smile of approval , dragging her in for what turned out to be a long two days.

dating you was nothing short of exhausting in the best way possible. you were nothing like most of the other brats she dated you were something else . you never asked for what you knew she wouldn't give you and that was what made you dangerous . you left her take the lead despite the snark comments that often leave your mouth . after all who would you be without that stubborn streak?

she buys you the best gifts money can buy and stocks up on groceries because she knows how much you love to cook for her. flowers were always a constant presence even in her absence but now they're bigger … brighter , replaced every week instead of every other week . she doesn't just take you to get your nails done and braids platted every month, but also makes sure she waits the whole five hours , phone in hand as she watches the game . her reward is the food from her favourite place , paid by her of course

you were a pillow princess most of time . loving the way she'd lay her giant hand on your back and thrust into you deep enough to make you speechless . fucked absolutely stupid .

Your hands weakly wail about only to be scooped by her large hand. She places your hands bove the bedframe, the hard slam echoing throughout the house.

The longer she fucks you the more quiet you get . your eyes flutter shut . a growing intensity settling in your lower half.

“Oh.” you whimper out , voice high pitched and downright pathetic in sevika’s eyes.

...

half the times you toyed with her lips or ran your fingers over her clit was more you playing around than it was making her cum . you swirled your fingers around her bush , felt the wetness running down her thighs . even suck your middle finger on her clit at times . sometimes making her cum was another way to entertain yourself . you especially liked the way sevika would react when your long nails accidentally swiped on her lips . the quick thrust she'd give , etching towards the slight pain . those nights always ended with her blazed out , eyes wide and dazed as you rode her to no end . at times you'd see how many times you could beg her to fuck you while her harness hit her clit in a way that would send her hurtling into another orgasm back to back with minimal stop . she rarely complained , even when it hurt , even when she , the acclaimed brat tamer was on the verge of tears herself .

your definition of topping included shoving her down the couch , lifting your mini skirt up as you straddled her shoulders and riding her face until you got impatient and whiney and made her take over . you'd never outright say it , but she'd know whenever those long stilettos sunk into her hair and grip with a harshness that would elicit a hiss from her occupied lips . she'd sink her blunt nails into your thighs and dragging you up and down her face herself . she knows you , knows you won't give her cock or hardening clit the light of day until you've had your fill . you're spoilt and lazy and greedy and … sevika's pants feel tighter than ever as she gives some aborted thrusts into the air .

she swears she could come from this . from pleasing you . from watching the money leave her bank account the moment a satisfied smile graced your features . and cum she does , right in her pants . you pay it no mind nor the high pitched whines she shudders against your clit .

PLUTO SPEAKS : updated my taglist form so make sure to check it out

TAGLIST : @saycubed

[aurumacadicus]

I think I've finally realized the disconnect between the way I view Tony Stark and the way other people read him (especially in relation to Solo Lodge). I have always, first and foremost, viewed him as a tragic hero.

There are two parts to this. First and foremost: A lot of people don't like or understand tragedy. "But if they just did this differently, everything would have turned out fine!" Okay, sure, but that's not the point. The point was always that unhappy ending. The point was the catharsis of emotional release of negative emotions. To feel pity, and anger, and despair, in a way that is safe, because it isn't happening to you. The point was to confront and understand suffering through the eyes of the character.

At any point, Romeo and Juliet could have made different choices that led to them running away and getting married. But that would not have been the same story. At any point, Oedipus could have made different choices that would have led to his father living and having never married his mother. But that would not have been the same story. At any point, Jay Gatsby could have made different choices to give up on Daisy and and stop chasing after the approval of Old Money. But that would not have been the same story.

At any point, Tony could choose to trust his friends. He could choose to believe he was loved. He could choose to assume people were treating him with kindness instead of with some sort of ulterior motive. He could choose not to keep his emotions and thoughts bottled up. He could choose not to drink.

But he doesn't. And that's the point. He makes the choices he makes and suffers the consequences. And I like that about him.

The second part is not necessarily universal but is my personal belief about Tragic Heroes: I believe every Tragic Hero is a bit of a dick. You can talk to me until you're blue in the face about the themes and analysis and the different critical approaches to Hamlet and why he was written the way he was, but I'm always going to think he's a bit of a of a dick. Willy Loman's desire to hold his family together and hope they prosper can be explained by the American Dream, but I'm always going to think he's a bit of a dick. Michael Corleone dying alone as a consequence of all his choices after his father begged him not to join the family business is poetic, but I'm always going to think he's a bit of a dick.

Tony Stark smart, generous, kind, witty, and wealthy, but he's also a bit of a dick.

And that's what I like about him.

[jjsloverre]

Change Your Life

summary: after a fight you and jj have, about somebody stealing the pouges money, he’s willing to change his whole lifestyle around just to be with you.

warnings! angst, arguing, cursing, mentions of breakup, great fluffy ending☺️

“shit! i didn’t mean it like that…” i step back away from him, did he just say that to me? “what the fuck jj? you really think i had something to do with the money? look i know i was at one kook party but doesn’t mean i would ever do that!”

he looked confused with his words, he didn’t know what was spilling out of his mouth. “sometimes i have my doubts y/n.” my blood was boiling. i was overwhelmed with the fight and just wanted it to be over. i turned away from him and jj grabbed my arm softly. “hey.. where you going?” i yanked my hand away from him.

“don’t touch me! i can’t do this jj, your trust issues are getting too much and you always blaming me is getting worse! maybe… maybe we should just break up..” i could barley finish the sentence. leaving jj? i knew i was bluffing. i couldn’t do it him, to me either. before he could mutter another word, i step out of the room and walk out the chateau to get some fresh air.

as i sit on the patio for what felt like hours, i felt strong arms wrap around my waist. “hi princess, don’t jump; it’s just me.” jj says with a small smile. i look at him really confused. “what’re you doing here, thought you were inside.”

he pulled me into his lap and laid my head into his chest. “i hate when you’re mad at me and today, i realized you were right. i’m sorry for blaming you and i love you so much. i’ll do better for you.” i look into his pretty blue eyes. jj wasn’t the easiest to deal with but he always meant well.

“i love you too jj, everything is okay between us, alright?” he smiles down at me. “i’d change my whole life around for you, y/n.” with that, we shared a sweet tender kiss pouring our love into the kiss. “let me get you into bed now, this concrete is painful for your ass.” he says and i giggle, letting him pull me into his arms and guide us to our bedroom.

a/n- my first full writing ☺️! took so long? i don’t even know why but it’s sza friday so why not actually post something? anyway, hope you like it!

[joannerowling]

do you think they'll ever go for another HP spinoff? Both Cursed Child and Fantastic Beasts received poor or mixed reviews at best and were not that popular (I don't think anyone has ever referenced them IRL in my experience) so I doubt they'll be trying another spinoff anytime soon. Perhaps after the HP show is over in a decade? I really hope not lol, I found both CC and FB incredibly uninteresting and basic (Ezra Miller and Johnny Depp really turned me off too lol) and I figure any other spin off would be just as disappointing.

I also think the terminally online fans going "No one wants this! we want a spinoff about the founders or marauders!" are so incredibly out of touch. the HP show everyone will watch, however no one would care about either of those except super duper HP fans. If I said "marauders" IRL I highly doubt anyone would even know what I'm referencing. Also why on earth would they take a gamble on a new show after CC and FB flopped? and these terminally online JKR haters complaining about the show and screaming for a Jegulus spinoff instead also hated and complained about CC and FB for the most part? it's such a bizarre reaction that is based exclusively in 'I hate jkr and want to complain' instead of any actual desires on their part IMO

Will there ever be another HP spinoff?

Short answer: probably not.

Long answer: they can only greenlight a project with JKR's approval, so it really all depends on her. She's clearly not interested in writing more original Potter books right now, but she's ok letting others play with the IP in various media and/or commercial forms (except novels; duh, she's not stupid), so long as her specific wishes on some topics are met. So far, pretty successfully:

Theatre : Cursed Child, while hated by a vocal minority of (essentially book) fans, is a commercial and critical hit, winning several awards and touring in multiple countries while playing non-stop on the West End.

Video Games : Obviously a quite successful format, from the popular smartphone mini-games to Hogwarts Legacy. Nobody cared that much about HL's story, its success came down to the fun of actually getting to explore Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc.

Park theme(s) : Very successful and not to be underestimated creativity-wise, between decors, costumes, ancilliary products, etc. Again, the appeal is immersion and exploration rather than rides.

Supplementary non-fiction material : The "Hogwarts Library" supplementary books deepening the universe's lore have always been hits, hence WB using them as a base to develop FB.

Fantastic Beasts movie series (and the whole "wizarding world" brand) : The big disappointment. It didn't start so bad, the first was a success and well received. The second was too complicated and lost the GP, but still made money; and the third was better received but not well enough to save it. Still, even Secrets was more of a flop than a bomb (it made back its Covid-inflated budget twice after all, not enough to make a profit but better than nothing).

At some point, if i'm a WB exec and i'm a little smart, i start to notice patterns:

Normie fans and GA don't want new "wizarding world" stories: they want an immersive experience. Movies are a bad format for that. You just can't cram too much stuff in a movie without shit becoming real expensive real fast.

Book fans hate everything new in general, even with Jo's involvement it's getting touchy after FB and CC. (I'm sure an original novel would work but even that's risky and she's not interested anyways.)

On the other hand, book fans also famously disliked the movies, so a new, more faithful adaptation might interest them. Normie fans and GA too: they already know the story, so it's accessible, and parents would love sharing it with their kids.

Sales show that people in general are definitely still massively attached to Harry Potter, so it's worth investing.

TV adaptations of books following disappointing movies have been pretty successful recently: BBC/HBO's HDM, Netflix's Series of Unfortunate Events, etc.

TV's not a bad format for immersive story-telling. Not the best, but you have more screen time and it's usually cheaper to produce than films and more character driven, meaning more opportunities to add details and play with them. Enough "new" elements to stand apart from the movies and excite fans, but no risk of messing with canon.

For WB, a remake is a great middle ground to work with JKR in spite of her controversies: she's involved, but not too involved, because the story isn't a new one. It's not like she's writing an original script for them, she's just consulting to make sure they're not messing up. And for Jo? Also greatly convenient! She gets to make money with minimal work. She's a very busy woman you see, and she's got expenses (those rape crisis centers aren't paying for themselves).

Conclusion : Spin-offs = bad, expensive ideas almost bound to fail, unless they were adaptations of a new, critically acclaimed original novel by JKR, which will not happen any time soon. Remake = safer, actually something people want to see (or could be persuaded to watch if initially unconvinced, for the hardcore movie fans). Movies are (kinda) out, shows are (still) in. Carpe Diem, etc.

Will there specifically ever be a Marauders spinoff?

With the disclaimer that i'm not JKR so i can't actually know that but: no. Never. Not even a remote possibility, won't ever happen in a thousand years.

[randomnameless]

Why do the FEH devs insist on ignoring Nabatean lore so much?

I recently had a surprisingly cordial discussion on redshit with someone about the "nabateans = colonisers" take, and one of the main points raised was that the game was purposedly foggy around Nabateans/Sothis/their story because it would obviously favor a certain narrative (and thus make another narrative look, uh, not that marketable anymore).

To be honest, we still ended up with a product that had a lead go "this race and its blood* is the reason why the world sucks" and yet that lead is still marketable enough to have raunchy cipher cards and 5 FEH alts, so I actually wonder if, while pissing on that lore had that purpose, it was ultimately pointless since Supreme Leader can still sell goodies despite her incarnation in FE16.

And not only Supreme Leader - but the entirety of WC where we basically have 70% of the cast crying/complaining about their "mixed blood" or lack of and basically adding their 10 cents to the "this race and its blood is the reason why the world sucks".

I mean, can you imagine Sylvain selling any goodies and alts if Flayn replied to his "wah wah people only are kind to me and want to fuck me because I have Nabatean blood :(" by some uncharacteristic "good for you, I have to hide my ears, had to dye my hair, have to lie about my family because if the truth is found out about my identity, I will be hunted and vivisected like an animal and harvested for parts by people who call my kin abominations - just like what happens in the game where the same people who call my kin "abominations" ally with a classmate who calls me a creature and pretends I am incapable of human feelings based on my race".

FE Fodlan's main selling point is its cast of students, for various reasons, but even if I tried to kid myself, Nopes and FEH made it clears : students are the main selling point.

If you spare more time and attention to the Nabatean plot/lore, the students either grow from "likeable" to "despicable" or worse, you won't gaf about them because yeah sure, Hilda might be upset because people expect things from her due to her crust, but it would feel like a "peanut" compared to Seteth's irrational (granted, it's not so irrational since GW exists) fear that Flayn's newest friends would dissect her if they learnt she was a Nabatean, and being conflicted by finally letting her have human friends and form bonds she crave, or protect her due to the trauma from the genocide of their species.

Don't get me wrong, I love peanuts, I mean, not everyone can have a tragik of loaded backstory!

And yet, given how this verse's DNA is "can you fight against the red emperor who uwus about you", they had to add copious amounts of Earl Grey to their games so there's no clear-cut factions :

The "Your alien blood and its influence on the world corrupted it, so I want to reform it under my command" vs "I don't want to die and you oppose me due to my race and side with the people who genocided my kin"

is turned to :

"Your alien blood Crests and its your church's influence on the world corrupted it, so I want to reform it under my command"

"I don't want to die and you oppose me due to my race and side with the people who genocided my kin"

Sprinkle with the cast's hammering here and there that the "reforms" might be needed - but never develop on what they are - and add a few baseless and groundless takes as a toping (basically everything Claude says about tolerance and the general "isolationism/foreign policy" stuff) and you get FE Fodlan where the Red Emperor's war isn't seen as the catastrophe it is in the other entries from the series!

Now, for FEH...

FWIW, the F!F!Billy's trailer had them try to explain that Sothis was a bit pissed about her slaughtered/massacred children when Nopes never gave any reason about why she was pissed - maybe on Billy's behalf bcs Jerry's dead, but come on, she would indeed deserve the medal of the worst parent in the franchise if that was the case, since Billy can murder her daughter without Sothis taking over ! - but given that they cannot write/go against the source game those characters are from.

They tried a bit, with B!Supreme Leader and Hegemongard's FB, but then it stopped (because she had no "new unit" released since then lol) and I can understand why : Hegemongard came out before the Supreme Emblem, and Hegemongard hates dragons who are seen/perceived as gods by some of their human followers. Come FE17, and now Supreme Emblem accepts Alear because they are "one of the good ones". We can come up with HCs and details and talk about what are emblems or if Hegemongard's views were only hers at the end of AM all day long... But imo, Doylist wise, it still feels it's a retcon because the devs from the main games tried to scrap and remove the most "controversial" traits she had.

For the other characters... Well, you see what Marianne is in FEH (but even in her base games), she's one of the few characters who reacts - in a way - to the partial history about relics and demonic beasts and all... only to give sad uwus to Maurice.

FE16 (and Nopes) refused to have any "student" character react to the Nabatean lore/reveal, about what are relics and all. There are no lines, Claude shared some knowledge in the explore section of VW's last chapter, but we don't have anyone muse or think or even talk about what are relics, what are crests, and what kind of fuckery their ancestors or the ancient humans of Fodlan did.

With that in mind, FEH can't do much : either they write Marianne in a retcon-y way like what happened for Hegemongard (and they're not afraid to piss on characterisation, look at Lyon!), or they flanderise her "character" and develop her around 3 lines she had in the game in her paralogue, and continue to give sad uwus about Momo when he was at best a guy who slaughtered and murdered so much that he abused the Nabatean turned into a relic to the point where he turned in a demonic beast even if he had a matching crest, or at worst, had been part of Nemesis's piñata party in Zanado and was something of a genocider.

Tldr :

Why FE Fodlan never gaf about Nabateans : earl grey + the marketable cast has to stay marketable and you can't sell peanuts at the same price you'd sell swordfish

Why FEH dgaf about Nabatean lore : they can't afford to retcon characters + they have to sell peanut alts with the same seasoning they had in their base game.

For what it's worth though, I think FEH is more daring than the base game(s) given how they gave more lines and screentime to Rhea - through her different alts - than GW. And they even designed her Halloween!alt's lines to piss on some of Claude's assertions, while the various FB involving members of the church also - indirectly - reply to some accusations thrown their way in FE16 when, FE16, never gave them an opportunity or lines to explain that those takes were full of dung.

*"but random, maybe she doesn't know that the crests she often decries is "dragon blood"!"

It's highly debatable, especially given what she and Hubert throw to Billy in CF - but even if she doesn't, Doylist wise we still have a character who, knowingly or not, says "this race and its blood* is the reason why the world sucks" and who is never called out on her prejudice. That's more of an issue regarding the general writing though, she has to be a red emperor and took pages from Ashnard's book, and yet, the player must still feel bad and want to romance her, so her mindest/goal cannot be looked at too closely, because, I guess, even the devs thought it would be difficult to romance her (thus sell goodies!) if more light was shed on the "blood from this race corrupts our people" schtick -> which in turn would also make characters whose backstory and gimmick rely on "crying about crests" be way less likeable, thus marketable and able to sell goodies.

[mspaint-flower]

hi

gentle reminder that me and my family are still in need of help and my comms are open, i have school so i may not be very fast but i try my best to be despite the situation i currently live in it would be great if you could help in any way, even just by sharing. thank you for everyone who helped me so far (and a special thanks to EmeliaK), i had wished by now this would be over but it's not. so i gotta keep fighting

thank you