#it does appear to be a core piece of the argument

[poetryqueer]

maybe framing the diss. through being a discourse of elite men will save it. perhaps.

[novelistwriter]

Reborn Phantom

DP x DC Prompt

This prompt was inspired by a story where Danny reincarnated as Dick

Danny, who was bored out of his mind after a few centuries of peace he made in the Infinite Realms as Ghost King, wanted to do something new, so he decided to be reborn in a dimension, leaving Jazz as the Queen Regent while he is away. But he wasn't reborn as anyone. He was reborn as Jason Todd and with no memories of his life before.

There is nothing much that changes for the story of Jason. He loses his parents, becomes homeless, tries to steal the tires of the batmobile, gets adopted by Bruce Wayne, becomes Robin, witnesses the arguments between Dick and Bruce, learns about his biological mom in Ethiopia, goes to reconnect with her, get killed by the Joker in the warehouse when his mom gave him to the Joker.

After his death, Jason becomes Danny again and remembers everything before his rebirth. He goes to Jazz, the only family that he can trust, to be comforted by her, and talking to her about the struggles he had when he was alive again.

Danny was about to take back his role as Ghost King when the reality warping event happened, which caused Danny to be put back into the body he left behind, where he dug out of his Grave as Jason Todd again, but instead of being a revenant, he's a Halfa again, but lacking ectoplasm to function, so he's catatonic until he's dunked into the Lazarus Pit.

While in the League of Assassins, he's blinded by Rage most of the time because his core was adjusting to being in a human body again and couldn't filter out the Lazarus Waters influence, but he does remember bits and pieces. He became the older brother figure to Damian, got the All Blades, was taught by Talia herself because she had seen his connection to the Lazarus Pit and kept it from Ra's, and then he learned of Tim. The replacement to him as Robin, the boy who took his place half a year after he died, the newest soldier to Bruce's crusade.

He's still blinded by Rage when he leaves the League of Assassins, but he did say goodbye to Damian and told the kid to look for him in Gotham whenever he's having trouble or wanting to be with him again.

Jason attacks Tim in Titans Tower still and then confronts Bruce about the Joker. He got his answer with a Batarang cutting his throat. He was revived by Talia again, but this time, he wasn't consumed by the Rage inducing waters of the Pit, as his core is now fully functional again.

Jason got his answer from Bruce. He chose the Clown over him. And he hates the man for it, but not the Birdies he has picked up, and he regrets ever attacking Tim. He was about to leave the dimension and be back into the Infinite Realms to be the Ghost King again when Clockwork appeared before him and Talia after he emerged from the Lazarus Pit.

"My King, Jason Todd must keep living in this dimension to keep the timeline stable, and without him, you will be the cause of many innocent people dying before their time, please, keep living, my King"

[casscainmainly]

Race and Perception in Batgirl (2000)

This is a companion piece to my two gender posts on Batgirl (2000). There are many interesting takes on race and Cassandra Cain, but most focus on whether she is a 'racist' character or not. This post is not about that, though I think my stance is fairly clear given what my blog is about. Rather than retreading the same ground of whether the conception of Cass is racist (something I might tackle later, because some arguments are flat-out wrong), I want to look at how race actually plays out in Batgirl (2000).

This post focuses on how Cass' Asian identity influences her views on perception, beauty, and agency. As usual, feel free to disagree as I'm not an ethnic or Asian studies expert.

Mask of the Batgirl

We all know and love Cass' iconic Batgirl costume. Besides its distinctive total-blackness, the most interesting aspect is the full-face mask. She is the only Batgirl to cover her face completely - when Stephanie takes over, one of the first things she does is rip the bottom half off.

Skin and external perceptions don't mean the same things to Barbara and Steph as they do to Cass. Cass' entire life is fraught with not just the male gaze, but the White male gaze - her father, David Cain, films her on video tapes, and Bruce later views these tapes (importantly, Cass herself does not get to). These tapes symbolise how her appearance does not belong to herself, but to external White perceptions.

In issue #1, Batman says the following:

"You... are me." Here, Bruce posits that the full-face mask makes Cass more like Bruce. It functions to hide their racial and gendered differences. By covering her face completely, Bruce (and Cass) tacitly suppress her race. Once again, White men are controlling the way she is perceived, something that began with David Cain and continues with Bruce.

Interiority and Exteriority

A common Asian stereotype is that Asians are mechanical - they have no interiority. The common conceptions of Asians as STEM majors and being emotion-deficient all come from this core belief, that Asians are utilities for White people. For Cass, this belief manifests from Babs, Bruce, and David Cain:

Babs says it's hard to care without knowing what's "going on in her head." She cannot connect with Cass' exterior, and finds it hard to imagine what her interior is like. Even worse, Bruce and Cain both argue that Cass belongs to/is like them, almost treating her as property- they reject Cass' own interiority and project theirs onto her, using her as a tool to extend their own identities.

In the early issues, Cass doesn't have an internal monologue. This somewhat reinforces what Babs, Bruce, and Cain all believe about her interiority. However, in issue #5 a White man gifts her the ability to think in language:

This plot point serves to demonstrate Cass' interiority to the reader, but it is another example of a White person choosing for Cass. She didn't get a choice to be raised without language, and she doesn't make the decision to receive it. Both externally and internally, White people control her narrative.

The Shiva Solution

After her newfound language skills impact her ability to fight, Cass encounters Lady Shiva, her future surprise mother. Shiva is the first one to ever acknowledge Cass' race.

Unlike Cain or Bruce, Shiva doesn't say 'you're like me'; she says, "we're a lot alike." She doesn't map herself onto Cass, but finds something they both have in common. By naming Cass' race ("in terms of our coloring") and framing their similarities in this way, Shiva affirms Cass' difference from White people, while providing an alternative solace: Asian solidarity.

Shiva gives Cass her first real choice. It's not exactly a good choice, and it's somewhat coloured by White perceptions (the idea of 'perfection'), but it's still the first major thing Cass gets to decide for herself. She even frames Shiva's path as opposing "Batman's method;" it's the beginning of her path away from White control, towards racialised agency.

It's no surprise, then, that Shiva is the one that helps Cass over her death wish. Not Bruce, not Babs, but Shiva - a literal and metaphorical link to her heritage.

Another Stephanie Brown Segment

As an integral part of Cass' sexual and gendered awakening, Stephanie of course plays a role in Cass' understanding of race. Moving from Puckett's run into issue #38, Stephanie and Cass have this iconic conversation on the rooftop:

I've written before about how this marks the beginning of Cass' foray into gender and sexuality, but this scene has a different meaning when viewed from a race angle. Stephanie is the quintessential American girl, with blonde hair and blue eyes; additionally, she's sexually and romantically experienced. Cass' own Asian appearance, then, may be causally linked to her lack of experience.

When Stephanie comes back as Robin, we have this moment:

Cass is unable to be perceived as non-threatening, helpful, or friendly, while Steph achieves all this with ease. Beyond the differences in temperament (Cass is definitely the spooky scary type), it's also the difference in costuming - Robin's bright colours and majority-unmasked face make for a friendlier appearance than Batgirl. Once again, Cass is unable to control other people's perceptions of her.

It's notable that the majority of Steph's appearances throughout Batgirl end with her leaving Cass on a rooftop. This happens in issues #38, #53, #54, and of course War Games. Their relationship is consistently tenuous, and I think this contributes to Cass feeling like she'll never belong in Steph's world.

Tai'Darshan Turns the Tide

At this point Cass is in pretty bad straits: no one has ever shown romantic attraction to her, Steph is mad at her, and she still doesn't have a full understanding of her race (bar Shiva, she's encountered no other Asians). This feeling of disenfranchisement from both the White and Asian worlds is a very common experience among third culture Asian kids, particularly mixed-race Asians.

Then comes Tai'Darshan, the second major Asian person Cass interacts with.

He is the first person to show romantic interest in her, and asks to "see [her] face." He wants to see her interiority and her skin - Cass' Asian features are now described as something attractive, something worth seeing.

Where Cass is creeped out by Conner's gaze on the boat, she's not similarly affected by Tai'Darshan. She's beginning to understand racialised dynamics, and finding comfort within other Asians rather than her majority-White friends and family.

Both during the fight with Tai'Darshan and the later fight with Bruce, Cass wears these eye-cut-out masks. The eyes are both the site of perception and the site of Asian racialisation, as the most identifiably 'Asian' part of people's faces. By wearing these kind of masks, she's allowing others to perceive her race, reclaiming racialised perception as an act of choice rather than something imposed onto her.

Choosing

In the final arc of Batgirl (2000), Cass sets out to find Shiva. The decision is spurred by this conversation, where Brenda explicitly asks about Cass' race. Everything has been building up to this acknowledgment of Cass' fuzzy origins, a recognition that the uncertainty around her race impacts her ability to achieve full self-actualisation.

Cass rejects Batman's help on the matter, instead going to Onyx:

By going with Onyx, a Black woman, instead of Bruce, Cass is starting on her journey towards racial solidarity beyond Asian communities.

The abrupt ending to Batgirl (2000) kinda cuts off any definitive arc, but I actually think what we have already paints a solid picture. There definitely is a lot more room for explorations into Chinese culture (Spirit World kinda covers this), Cass' relationship to White proximity, interactions with other Asian characters and more. I think her Asian identity deserves more of a spotlight, and I'm hoping more comics in the future delve into it.

[amymbona]

Request: angsty friends with benefits with Tashi! Thank you 😊

Ask and you shall receive!!!!! 🥹 Hope this is angsty enough! I feel like this genre requires a lot of word building, hence the length (or I am just incapable of writing short stuff)

Warnings: angst, mild nsfw, hints of fingering and eating out, cursing, fem!reader

Word count: 2,7 K

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

It probably all started as a joke between the two of you, some lines along "All boys are assholes," being shared. To you, it felt like a betrayal, of sorts, mainly aiming to hurt Patrick who was, at the time, Tashi's boyfriend. She argumented rationally, that he only visits Stanford once in a few months anyway, so he has no way of knowing anyway.

To be honest, you didn't need much convincing. Tashi Duncan is a stunning individual, carrying such an aura around her that makes her appear like an angel. Or rather, a devil in an angel's body. All it takes is a few words from her plump lips, sometimes even a glance - that you don't want to be on the receiving end of, especially once her eyelids drop a bit and she glances at you through her lashes - and you melt into a puddle, allowing her to mold you however she likes.

That's how you find yourself in her dorm room every other night, laid bare on her sheets, having the pleasure of admiring her gorgeous body hovering above yours. She's lean, perhaps a bit too much in your eyes, and you often attempt to sneak little pieces of chocolate into her sports bag for her to munch on. However, that doesn't take away from her beauty at all. 

Often, your eyes trail down to her tummy where tight muscles are present. It looks fucking hot. And reminds you how strong and dedicated to her work out plan she is. Despite being fairly the same height as you, she has no issues overpowering you. 

“You did so good today," her lips ghost over yours, one knee bracing between your legs and rubbing against your panties. "Played a good fucking match."

"Tashi." you whisper her name sweetly, fingers running up her bare sides, the sight of her bare torso clad in her Adidas sports bra already making you hungry for what's underneath. 

"You might be better than me one day." the compliment makes you shake to your core, and you almost doubt her words, knowing she's never said this to anyone. And Tashi knows that too. But this is her way of easing your worries, of allowing you to relax and not doubt whatever is going on between you too. That's an issue for later. 

Your hips buckle against her knee, hoping to feel some more friction between your legs. Due to today's match, neither of you had much time to meet up earlier this week. It's crazy how needy one - you - can become in just a few days, but you've grown so accustomed to her body, to her touch and it's like a drug to you, something you can't function without. 

"Let me make you feel good, okay? Reward you like you deserve it." You've never seen Tashi this generous before, this willing to give and satisfy another person's needs rather than own. 

You have one crucial privilege. In this world, you are the only person who Tashi has allowed herself to be soft around. With you, she is tender, gentle, she talks to you as if you were a kid and allows you to coddle her in return, to hold her head against your chest and stroke her hair while she plays with your sensitive nipples. Your relationship is gentle and full of a deep sense of understanding and mutual respect. 

And she does make you feel good, so insanely good when her fingers dip under your panties to feel the gathered wetness. A smirk adorns Tashi's gorgeous face as she earns a soft sigh from your lips, knowing damn well that the more time you spend without her touch, the more sensitive you are. Her neatly trimmed nails run over the skin of your inner thighs as she pulls your panties down, smiling at the sight of your pussy. 

Her name escapes your lips once more when her tongue runs between your folds, tasting the built up arousal. In a few moments, she's got your back arching and hips grinding as her lips latch onto your clit, sucking onto the delicate bundle of nerves. She basically makes out with your cunt, tongue running between your inner lips, teasing your poor, sensitive hole. Her pointed nose bumps and rubs against your clit, the sweet music of your moans reaching her ears. And she's fucking delighted, making you cum on her tongue a few minutes later. 

The two of you spend quite a lot of time with Art, a familiar face connected to you two mainly through Patrick. He's the physical reminder of his best friend, making it feel like Patrick is in some way constantly present, looming over his girlfriend's carefree frame. The two boys exchange emails frequently, where Art informs Patrick about all the juicy gossip concerning not just Stanford but mainly his girlfriend and her new, unusually close friend. And the more aware of their correspondence you are, the harder it is to constantly tip toe around it. 

Art Donaldson is like a hawk, eyes sharp like an x-Ray, seeing through everything and everyone with precision. And he has surely noticed your relationship with Tashi, that reminds him a bit too much of his own with Patrick. Unfortunately, he is quick to notice whatever remains hidden between your gaze, as Tashi's face is always ice cold, not allowing a single hint of whatever might be going on in their mind. But you're not as aloof, you are unable to keep a straight face if something is bothering you. 

But Art keeps it casual, somehow, and plays the part of a detective. Sometimes, he sits next to you in the cafeteria, asking how's tennis and stuff going. 

"Alright." you usually respond, not feeling like giving him more. 

"And how's Tashi? She doesn't tell a lot, y'know." Art pushes, taking a bite of his well seasoned potato. 

"Tashi," you nod with acknowledgement, drawing patterns across the plate with your fork. "Yeah, she's good. Focused on tennis, so there isn't much to tell." 

"But you spend a lot of time together, don't you?" he presses further, eyeing you up and down. Under his gaze, you almost feel naked, vulnerable, as if he was actually able to read your mind. 

You just shrug, eyes still locked on the plate. "I dunno. We revise for our exams sometimes."

And then in the afternoon, when you're in Tashi's dorm again, you let her know about the conversation with the blonde boy. She brushes it off, as per usual, insisting you shouldn't worry about him. But it doesn't go that easy to you. 

The more frequent these exchanges of opinions become, the more frustrated you find yourself. It appears as if there were little to no feelings from Tashi's side, not for Patrick nor you. But she's not opposed either. At best, she is simply indifferent. Takes life - or rather everything else that isn't tennis - as it comes, accepts what life offers her and then moves on. 

"I told you to stop worrying 'bout it, Y/N." she huffs, stretching on her mat on the floor while you're sitting cross legged on her bed. 

"But how can I, Tash? It's not that easy, y'know." you respond with a pout, fingers gathering her sheets into a little ball before smoothing it down again. She's silent, focused on laying her torso above her stretched legs. You sigh. "How's Patrick?" 

"Dunno." 

"He's your boyfriend." 

"And?" 

"You should know how he's doing." you press, glancing down at a few fallen strands of hair that frame her beautiful face.

With a roll of her eyes, Tashi drops flat onto her back. With her knees bent, she lifts her hips off of the mat, working on strengthening her core muscles. Despite the uncomfortable position, her voice remains unwavering. "I don't care about him." 

She's never told you that before. Each time you bit into the topic of Patrick, Tashi simply assured you not to think about him and enjoy your time together. But this time, it's different. 

"Don't give me that look." she huffs, continuing with her sets, small, stable breaths leaving her nose. 

"What look?" you mumble.

Tashi doesn't respond yet, laying flat on her back once more. With a small pout on her lips, lower lip sucked in between her teeth, she gazes up on you. "That one you give me when you want me to love you." 

"Tashi-" 

She never lets you say anything like that, not outside your dirty escapades. That is the only time allowed for words of affection, for soft whispers into each other's ears that you have held back from saying the whole day. But it has never crossed the line, the word love not mentioned once. 

The ever so stoic expression on her face, Tashi shuffles towards the bed, remaining on her knees. Her cold palms find their place on your thighs as she slowly spreads your legs, shuffling between them. You don't feel the usual excitement. 

"I won't give you what you want, Y/N." she begins, nails digging into the soft skin of your legs, eyes boring into yours. This is not the time for another tender display of affection. 

"Then why are we doing this?" you ask, voice quiet. There you are, completely pathetic under - despite her sitting literally below you - the hard gaze of Tashi Duncan, the ice cold woman with only pretense for feelings she's unwilling to give you. 

"Cause it's nice," she responds simply, palms running up and down your spread thighs, fingertips teasing under the fabric of your shorts. "And we both like nice things." 

"I'd like more nice things." you mumble with a pout on your lips, already sensing your eyes are filling with salty tears. This time, you allow the truth to hit you fully. That Tashi Duncan will never love you the way you love her. She won't love you, nor Patrick, nor anyone else. Because she simply doesn't do love. 

"I know." she nods. 

That, to you, is the final nail on the coffin. With a deep exhale, you let your shoulders slouch and back rest against the wall behind you. Your eyes unfocus with the tiny pools of salty water filling them in, and when you attempt to blink the tears away, a few slide down your cheeks. Tashi, of course, notices. 

"Y/N," she demands your attention, but you don't give her that. With a roll of her eyes, she slides one hand through the leg of your shorts, nails brushing over the edge of your panties. "You can go to your place and cry, or, I can eat you out and make us both feel good."

That's fucking unbelievable, what she is offering to you. How could the feeling of sexual stimulation possibly surpass the sheer beauty of having your feelings reciprocated? For someone, it could. But for you? Never. 

You shudder as Tashi's finger finds the sensitive bump of your clit with blind precision, eyes still locked onto your teary eyes. She's offering all that she can give, all that she is willing to give even though he shows it's nowhere near as close to enough for you. And it's entirely up to you whether you lower yourself to a pathetic mess and choose to accept that. 

"I can't, Tashi." with a relatively firm - and yet still cautiously gentle - hold to her wrist, you pull it out of your shorts and get up from the bed. Tears are already rolling down your cheeks and you wipe them away with a shaky hand, attempting to appear at least half as collected as Tashi is at the moment. "I'm sorry, I just- I'll see you later." 

It's days, weeks even that you two don't exchange anything besides a few hi's and hello's when you cross each other's paths during practice. For you, it has been troublesome to keep your composure, to remain focused on tennis when the woman you have deep feelings for is on the court next to you. When her delicate moans and groans reach your ears as she jumps from left to right to hit the ball. Precise as always, she is. 

The next day, Art grants you with his presence once again, occupying the space next to you in the cafeteria. He's munching on some protein bar, an almost teasing smile pulling onto his stuffed mouth. "Patrick's coming to visit."

"Oh." 

"We're prolly gonna go out or something, I mean him, me and Tashi," he announces as if it's just a regular Tuesday occasion for him. And it is. "Wanna tag along?" 

And watch Tashi be all wrapped up in Patrick's arms, constantly smoothed down by the guy's hands that he is incapable of keeping to himself? Hell no. You'd rather claw your own eyes out and then play tennis with them. 

That is exactly what you consider once you find yourself in Art's dorm, the four of you occupying the square shaped carpet in the middle of the room, forced to watch the shittiest comedy of your life. In front of you, Patrick's all sprawled out, Tashi resting between his legs with her back against his chest. In a casual manner, his arm is thrown around her hips, fingers tracing the exposed skin where her tank top doesn't quite meet her pants. For you, the sight is tortuous. 

Like a magnet, your eyes are pulled towards that exact spot, throwing imaginary daggers at Patrick who, poor guy, is all innocent and undeserving of your disdain. But you can't help it.

"So, how's the tour, man?" Art asks Patrick, taking a sip of his beer. 

"Good, good. The usual," he shrugs absentmindedly, gaze locked onto his girlfriend's precious face, while, in the meantime, she's only looking at you. "But the break's better. Get to be with my girl." 

And to accentuate his words, Patrick presses a fat kiss to Tashi's cheek, his hand moving up to grope her breast. She swats him away with a playful roll of her eyes and silences him with a kiss. All of this is too much for you to bear. 

"I've gotta go," you announce softly, not looking to drive much attention to yourself. But you seriously can't stay there, otherwise, you'd go insane. "I have homework for tomorrow."

That's bullshit, and the three of them know it. But Patrick doesn't question anything and, luckily, Art doesn't spill any of his suspicions to his best friend. And Tashi, well, she remains relaxed, offering a small bye.

Closing the door behind yourself, you basically collapse against the wall, clutching a palm over your mouth to silence all the sobs that are threatening to escape your mouth. In the dim light of the corridor, the weight of the situation falls onto you completely, leaving you all alone, only the distinct chatter and laugh of the two men in the presence of the woman you love tickling your ears. 

You're too deep in thoughts to even notice the gentle pair of footsteps and a slender body squatting in front of yours. Only when Tashi's palms cup your face, you're met with a gentle smile and a pair of sadly creased eyes. "Want me to come to your dorm later?" 

Do you? Do you want Tashi, who's all lovey-dovey with her boyfriend who has just come all the way from the other side of the States to visit and spend time with her because he loves her, to come and visit the gentle comfort of your dorm to fuck you with her fingers? Do you want to be someone who'll Tashi cheat on her boyfriend with, the knife that cuts the family portrait in half and separates two people? Do you want the woman you love to make you feel good once again only to leave in the middle of the night because she can't love you the way you want to be loved?

"No." you shake your head.

"Okay." she responds with the same softness, leaning in to press a tender kiss on your forehead. Without anything further to say, she gets up and disappears in the dorm room again, leaving you all alone, sitting on the cold, dirty floor like a pile of affliction. 

[m3loria]

˖﹙ 🌠 ﹚ TOWER SIDE MEMORY.

WHERE yohan thinks his members are the most telling combination of strange.

˖ FEATURING. hong yohan, meliora ensemble. ˖ TIMESTAMP. NOV '19–SEP '22, scene combination. ˖ WARNINGS. swearing, insomnia, mentions of drinking, smoking, fighting, this is not in chronological order. ˖ WORD COUNT. 8.7k ˖ NOTES. happy friday random account viewers, hi jj no.1 yohan stan mega oomf ily btw 😊😊 so i basically sort of kind of plagiarized this because its the oc work of the century.. sorry, it was either this or angst and i can save that for another time!! im an angst lover to my core lowk 💗 i will make these men sad, anyway, warning bc this work is non-linear, i love writing things out of order its so fun 🫶 yohan's the best person for this because hes basically meliora's face and jj wants him so bad 🙂‍↕️ me too honestly (i created him), this work absolutely killed me to write since i debated on how sad i should make each section, not everything is that bad though!! im so sweet cant you see it in my smile 😁😁

   OCTOBER  6  2021.   LOUVIX AUDIO BUILDING

hwan is low maintenance, yohan doesn’t have to be a genius to know that one.

through observant glances and itching from none other than haneul, he figures that encapsulating silence defines his character. when meeting him firstly, he felt just the slightest bit seen. it’s unlike the groups flurry of extroverts who get uneasy when they don’t receive a text each hour, the two don’t even need to have each other’s numbers.

friendship has never been discreetly established, hwan never verbally establishes anything, he implies it through actions, through baked treats and intricately created charm bracelets.

yohan’s gotten a few cookies, he thinks he’s in the clear.

despite the label of ‘hiatus’, he never exactly rests, not when the members decide to leave anyway. resting would equate to doing nothing, and yohan loathes doing nothing, maybe he should write a song about that.

there’s no time for anything, he’s let off promotions yet there’s still so much to do. hospital visits, meeting attendances, so much catching up he genuinely doesn’t give a thought about when he finally passes out after midnight.

what’s the point of being out on a ‘hiatus’ if the company can’t even attempt to get rid of a few unhealthy tendencies? maybe they want to make way for another stage collapse, that wouldn’t be too daunting. sometimes, he feels like they think he’s a machine instead.

the scrawled lyrics appear as more of diary entries than anything, what the fuck is he writing about again? if this is going like it does in that one story, then a guardian angel will appear to him and finish the whole thing instead.

“aren’t you tired?”

or he guesses hwan.

it isn’t as if it’s the first time he’s ever heard a mutter from the younger, there consistently happens to exist silent mumbles in the background of regular arguments. he usually does give his piece, it simply isn’t loud enough to cut through the ear bleeding sounds of fighting.

well hwan sort of is a guardian angel, unwillingly, in a completely unaware manner, but he acts as a preserver nonetheless. he scrunches his nose at the inquiry, biting his wince back at the screech of the nearby chair. “it’s only been an hour”.

it isn’t an excuse, no, it’s a fact, though he supposes any other member would graciously take the aftermath of silence as an opportunity to attempt a scathing rebuttal, hwan remains silent, much too familiar with using the very own words as a response.

he rubs at his wrist, lethargy staring down lethargy, it’s ironic. it comes sporadically on occasion, but he sometimes feels like yohan’s spitting image, yet the degree of timidity stretches.

“that’s still a lot of sleep missing” he laughs, a quick glance at the scribbled lyrics, he pays no mind to them, it’s typically a team effort, which is pretty caustic considering the lack of definitive teamwork between whatever they write. for once, uneasiness seizes his features, concern, yohan thinks in another life, he’d probably be the group leader. “i mean— i guess i can’t talk about that but uh.. this is your break, for, you know, resting?”

“i’ve spent half the time resting”.

yohan doesn’t find pride in lying, it’s simply effective in moments like this, where someone once again stares him down to inquire about the unhealthy behavior he can’t keep under wraps any longer, it’s to quell worries, it’s a brick wall used to at least conceal something.

but of course, someone so similar can probably spot that one, it isn’t as if he underestimates the other’s intelligence, it’s simply the fact of the prospect being a regular coping mechanism.

“okay hyung”.

his undertone is soft enough that it doesn’t physically irk the older, but it almost appears just the slightest bit condescending, at least he has the pretty smile as a sugar coating device. “i can finish this..”

yohan’s right eye twitches, yet not out of irritation. “no, it’s okay”.

okay is about the worst word to use.

“my handwriting isn’t that bad”.

he snickers, he doesn’t exactly expect that one. “it’s too personal, you might go crazy”.

and the excuses are going to pile up until there are none left, until yohan has to surrender his dignity to admit the fact that he’s scared, that his medication does nothing and the claustrophobic studio has already swallowed him whole.

but until then, nobody cares about that.

he shrugs in reply. “the intimacy is an important factor”.

“i’m gonna scrap it”.

this is probably the longest conversation they’ve had, yes, despite the many lyrical collaborations. the act of stalling is easy, and the simplicity clears the anxiety he felt encapsulating him before the younger entered.

hwan blinks. “or you could let me help”.

help should be a word of contentment, but that uneasiness once again settles, longing for solace in the air of a room like this is a fool’s dream, and yohan thinks it’s been too extensive of a period since he’s properly closed his eyes without fearing what would happen after sleep. sleep itself appears to be a dream, he reaches, his fingers just barely grace its curvatures, and then it slips away once hope emerges in a gleam, taunting, fucking shameful.

in his current circumstance, help could be considered similarly, he yearns for such a thing, yet it’s just barely out of his reach.

his glasses are fogging.

yohan sucks his teeth, now he actually does want to scrap the whole song. “i mean.. i don’t know how we— you would do that”.

he isn’t exactly sure they’re a team in his eyes.

“what? you don’t trust me?”

it could be earnest, but it appears more playful, yohan’s sure hwan is picking such words carefully.

it’s actually the opposite, yohan doesn’t trust himself, which is a stupid thing for such a stubborn person to say aloud, so of course he doesn’t.

“not sure..”

for the first time, his responses dry up, there appears to be no more excuses left behind.

there’s a smile, hwan lords his victory over yohan with that smile. “go to sleep hyung, i can finish the song”.

and it’s the simplicity which moves him, has him standing out of his seat, hand instantly grabbing his sweater. hwan’s smile remains, it’s a rare right, and yohan guesses he has the right to be full of so much pride. “was that a first?”

well now he’s just being cocky.

“i guess” yohan shrugs, he doesn’t divulge the imminent fear of closing his eyes which will probably arise on the walk back, a horror not even the solace of his bed can fend off. “one song”.

hwan doesn’t seem to long for any more. “aye aye captain”.

his nose scrunches, but he guesses it’s pretty funny.

   AUGUST  18  2021.   HANAGAE BEACH

kiro’s about one of the strangest guys yohan knows, which is the true surprise when considering his debut in meliora as a whole.

they’re all a bit strange, some members allowing for the peculiarities to shine, others instead keeping them restricted until they have to display such oddities for the sake of content. he’s aware that might be a rude thought, but he still holds love for them, eccentric characteristics and all.

and it’s not that kiro causes him to question his sanity, he has a good chunk of the others to condemn for that one, he’s not one of them.

he’s sweet, through the spontaneous peculiarities, he doesn’t make yohan want to rip individual hairs out of his scalp, he simply makes yohan feel indescribably beatific, it’s something about his smile that earns a responding smile. kiro makes yohan happy even with silence, that’s why he’s strange.

and this, for some inconceivable reason he can’t conjure, makes yohan happy, all because of kiro. standing on a beach to watch the sunrise simply causes warmth to encapsulate his heart, it’s cute.

yohan’s always been an early riser, he’s aware kiro’s practically identical to him in that field. comeback seasons been out forever, yet opening eyes at five in the morning to again face the monstrosity of this world is completely mundane, it’s always been mundane, established as its own feat of normalcy since the early teenage years.

when he sees kiro downstairs, hair already brushed and tying his shoes, he blinks;

“what’s going on here?”

he startles, yohan occasionally forgets the members are always so jumpy, he isn’t that frightening, he’s sweet!

“god hyung don’t do that! i didn’t even hear you coming down the stairs!”

it’s adorable, how he remains the slightest bit neurotic, korean stuttered as he stares him face to face. when they first met, kiro could probably only dream of such a prospect, yohan can still make out a fraction of timidity remaining, but in comparison to last year, they’ve improved.

“sorry” his tongue prods at the side of his cheek. “it’s so early, where are you heading?”

and yohan realizes he does sound a lot like hajoon at this moment. well, he can’t win everything.

embarrassment overtakes his features, it manifests in a red tint which is quick to make home on his cheeks, the tips of his ears rapidly reacting in a quicker succession, and listen, yohan is aware it’s the middle of summer, but the place is also extremely air conditioned, unless there’s some secret furnace he’s unaware of.

“i uh— um..”

take your time, he wants to mutter, afraid of being unable to convey that through his stare alone. yohan’s a patient man, and though time is precious, he finds that the comfort of the people in his life outweigh that prospect. “i usually go to the beach to watch the sunrise..”

yohan blinks, he’s unsure of how the answer appeared to slip by so rapidly, or maybe he should scrutinize himself for not allowing the endless possibilities which exist to spring to mind.

“the nearest beach is almost two hours away?”

“well i uh— i mean, i don’t mind just catching a taxi, even if they’re kinda expensive”.

he hums, observing for a moment before clicking his tongue. “do you mind if i join you?”

his reply is exhibited through the acute physical reaction which corresponds with the titular widening of his eyes, as if it’s a travesty having the company of another human being by his side.

that might not be the case, it may just be the idea of spending time with yohan which startles him, or perhaps it’s the question, the tone and weight of each singular word that makes regular inquiries appear so.. irregular.

“do you not want me to?”

“no, no you can come with i was just.. kinda surprised”.

so they do exactly that; continuously muttering on the way, even with the taxi ride stretching to just before the two hour mark, they happen to enjoy themselves much more than they assume.

“so is this a tradition of yours?” he inquires, eyes threatening to flutter closed from the sheer power of the sun, the rays stabbing at his eyes. his right eye twitches, but he doesn’t fret.

“yeah mostly, when i first came to korea this was one of my first visiting spots”.

a smile tugs at yohan’s lips. “that’s cute” he states, basking in the light breeze of the early morning, the rushing of the ocean filling his ears. “do you always come alone?”

kiro appears to attempt a shot at hiding, averting his gaze instantly. “no one wants to wake up early to watch the sunrise” he whispers.

there’s a singular tick before yohan speaks once more; “if you ever want to, you know i’m always up early”.

“aww, are you offering?” his undertone indicates pleasantry with a hint of genuine surprises, but yohan decides to not dwell.

“i mean— the beach is nice, would be good to get some fresh air..”

kiro laughs. “you need to make time for yourself, hyung, this is technically your break after all”.

“i am doing that” yohan is unsure of exactly why he decides to pose such an argument, tone too gentle to convey any truth. “i can just do that while also spending time with you”.

and he includes the nudge of his shoulder to sell his point, repeatedly blinking at the shine of the sun. “come on, let’s go eat breakfast”.

yohan usually doesn’t eat breakfast, but he supposes today is a special occasion.

“oh hyung, are you spoiling me?”

he can’t help his responding smile. “don’t get used to it”.

   NOVEMBER  29  2019.   HOTPOT RESTAURANT 

apparently it’s a good day for hajoon, and whilst yohan can only assume, it appears the answer for his elevated brightness is clear.

yohan remains the slightest bit weary, not because he’s rude, it’s quite the opposite, he exudes a level of consideration yohan doesn’t expect from a guy he’s technically competing with for a spot in a fresh new group.

their skill sets are much the opposite, but competition is competition, he’s aware he’s gonna debut either way, maybe that explains his natural talent for simple generosity.

and it’s not that yohan doesn’t like him, it’s simply everything else that makes him strange.

which is exactly why yohan agrees to a hotpot “date” as he calls it. he entered the cushioned trainee dorms at eight pm, completely vitalized despite the tenor extending exhaustion. he specifically sought out yohan for a reason which remains iffy, nothing of a sure reply given for the question.

but he guesses that should be the least of his concerns when food is free.

he tunes out for a moment, only snapped out of his daze once the younger begins a fit of complaints. “you’re always looking in front of you, what are you thinking about?”

he knocks as if the older’s head will emit a sound, amused by his responding irritation. yohan’s face scrunches, his fist winding up just for nothing to happen. “nothing..”

“it’s not nothing” yohan is rattled by his chewing, his nose scrunch selling that idea. the younger decides to ignore him, hands clasping together in a silent sound. “come on, i won’t bite, what’s bothering you?”

“nothing’s bothering me i just couldn’t focus”.

hajoon takes in a deep breath, somehow not having his tongue burnt from the sheer amount of food he’s scarfed down, it’s still steaming, yet he doesn’t falter in the slightest. “is it debuting?”

yohan falters, hajoon smiles, god he’s way too good at that. “what’s with the doubt? you’re clearly going to debut”.

at that statement, he earns an eyebrow raise. “clearly?”

“you’re everything the lineup needs, you’re pretty, you can sing, you can dance, you don’t talk too much, companies like that in trainees” he muses, fingers coming to brush his hair out of his face. “you’re just like hwanie”.

yohan finds the words baffling, but he doesn’t display that, simply furrows his eyebrows. “and what? you aren’t anxious about debuting?”

“it isn’t exactly my whole life, this group”.

yohan is jealous. he longs for such laxity, hajoon talks about it like it’s nothing, but yohan’s putting his whole life into this. how is he supposed to face his mom if he doesn’t get into the group? areum? hyeri? yisoo? he’s supposed to pass, he’s the sibling consistently fueled with determination, what would failing even be like? how could anybody be relaxed about such a thing?

or maybe yohan’s simply chiefed by his anxiety, perhaps that’s the reason.

“oh”.

sensing the sudden change of atmosphere, hajoon begins whistling, playing with his chopsticks. “after this, we should go shopping or something”.

yohan’s eyes narrow. “if we do that we’ll get back late”.

he pretends to contemplate, clearly aware of what he’ll say next. “you need to relax”.

yohan clicks his tongue. “didn’t realize you cared”.

the younger snickers, slapping his arm. “of course i do! we’re friends now aren’t we?”

friends, well that’s a strange word. yohan doesn’t realize they had a label for this, hajoon just appeared one day in the practice room and yohan never questioned it, he never questioned their relationship.

yohan realizes that he probably won’t get another opportunity like this with the next year hot on his tail, once the idol life sets in, there’s no longer free time.

he sighs. “fine”.

“great! it’s a date!”

that’s probably gonna be his thing, yohan realizes he doesn’t mind much.

   SEPTEMBER  3  2022.   STYLE ROOM

yohan finds the members’ muttering easy to fall asleep too, the stylists hands in his hair cushioning his falling head.

the heat emanating from the hair straightener is surprisingly comforting, and despite the shouting, he manages a good thirty minutes of slumber before a tap on his forehead disturbs him.

he’s awaken by yet another tap on his forehead followed by the shuffling of footsteps, when he finally does open his eyes, he belatedly misses the absence of the hairstylist’s presence, instead alerted by two muddled voices.

haneul and yaejoon are arguing over.. something, yohan doesn’t mind whatever they’re whispering about. however, he notices the appearance of taro, who awkwardly stands by, seemingly caught in the crossfire, the image causing a chuckle to push itself up his throat.

the two others continue their “intense” argument, taro turns his way with pleading eyes, silently requesting for the older to get him out of his current predicament.

“what did i do?” he whispers, arms flailing slightly as yaejoon lightly tugs his shoulder.

yohan decides to pout for him. he clears his throat, catching the attention of his two arguing members. “you guys wanna know something interesting?” he begins, “last week’s hotel had the best desserts so far”.

and just like that, they begin yet another debate, a calm one somehow, taro watches on in pure amazement. “how do you just do that?”

yohan shrugs. “i don’t know”.

and honestly? he doesn’t.

the two arguing don’t pay attention, but at least the pressure is off his shoulders. he takes a seat in the vacant chair beside the leader, yohan gazes on, observing the anxiety permeating from him immediately, the maknae flinching at nothing in the air. “you okay?”

he doesn’t answer verbally, simply nodding. yohan hums, unbelieving of it all. “come on, you can tell me what’s wrong”.

he still remains silent, yohan doesn’t mind that really, he’s simply aware of how terrible it is to bottle up things like this. “aren’t you excited to go home?”

at the mention of home, taro flinches, flinches in the manner of a cat flicked with water, accidentally dropped into a bathtub in a ruthless prank by their owner.

he’s skittish like that, yohan has observed, he’s got cute eyes and constantly fiddles with his bracelets when longing for something to do, once the anxiety settles in, he plays around with the knots of fabric pressing to his skin.

gosh, yohan adores taro.

“i’m not sure, yoiki is excited but knowing my parents they probably won’t come”.

yohan frowns for his sake, but the news appears normal for him, his undertone doing nothing of a change. he blanks at the information, not exactly unaware of such a thing, simply disheartened for the maknae.

“are they working?”

“it doesn’t matter if they are or not”.

yohan doesn’t meet the members’ parents often, it just so happens to not be that much of a need for him, the members all have their own issues relating to some parental figure, and if that isn’t the case, then it’s probably much worse, stuff he’d rather not get into with the rest of them because dealing with trauma like that does questionable things to people.

his mother appears to be nice enough, she’s simply a massive workaholic.

his mouth dries. “hey, don’t think about that, on a positive note, your sisters are coming, and..”

“and?”

“you have us” he motions his head in the direction of the two softly quarreling. “i’ve always wanted to try soba”.

now that earns a small smile, the pretty stretch resulting in warmth encapsulating yohan’s heart. taro glances downward at his nails, picking at the skin.

once yohan gently separates his nails from the skin, he earns a smile; “i know a few good places” he mumbles, shyly looking away.

yohan smiles. “great, we can go together”.

he blushes, flush with endearment and a hint of budding enthusiasm. “yeah i’d like that..”

he’s unsuccessfully attempting to hide a smile, and yohan has to stifle a flurry of coos.

he simply thinks taro may just be the cutest person ever.

   DECEMBER  23  2021.   MELIORA DORMS

yohan comes to a not-so startling conclusion, haneul drunk is nothing different from haneul sober.

he supposes affection is guaranteed with a guy of that manner, when yohan first met him, there happened to be a distinct fashion of the air. he appears to be fond of everyone, everything, elated by such mundane prospects of life as if it’s his first waking moment on earth.

it’s.. well, kind of cute, in a completely abnormal sense to yohan’s considerably sane mind. he’s never seen the guy without a smile, every waking moment the feat of ecstasy simply heightens, and it appears that extends to tossing back shot after shot.

his face is painted a baby pink, the only contrast being the bright red of his cheeks. it has no affect on his attitude, he’s woozy, one of the few unusual results of drinking to your heart’s content.

“one more!” and when he raises the shot glass, it disappears as swiftly as yohan swipes it out of his hands. he releases a very intelligible ‘hmph’ and gives his best attempt at getting it back, just barely able to control his own limbs. “hyung!” yohan grimaces at the immediate spike of volume. “you can’t withhold shots from me, it’s my birth month”.

what an excuse, the younger about falls off his chair, yohan having to act as damage control in a room full of his other wasted members.

but he unfortunately does not let up, instead wrapping his arms around the leader in an effort to keep him in his place, or maybe the alcohol setting in is just opening the door for a mountain of affection he did not ask for. he snuggles into his side, and yohan has to keep a sigh between his teeth.

“are you alright?”

“i’m tired” haneul mumbles, eyes fluttered shut as he totally, possibly unconsciously, squeezes around his waist, yohan clenching his teeth as his own silent reply.

yohan snorts. “what about the shots?”

he allows for the crack of an eye, then his glance wanders over to the dormant shot glass, lips taking a downward turn into a saddening frown. if yohan didn’t know any better, he’d presume that haneul was definitively disheartened by being unable to enjoy one last “drink”. it’s hilarious, in another universe, he’d be rewarded acting accolades.

“you were the one who stole them from me? you’re such a phony you know what right!?”

lord is he still whining? yohan pats his head in a questionable manner, as if haneul is his son or something, attempting to console him in his drunken stupor. “shh! you’re too loud..”

haneul yawns, pinch purposeful. yohan slaps the small of his back, earning the best glare haneul can give with such droopy eyes, a glower which results in probably one of his fairest laughs in a while.

“how about” he begins, unable to slip from the compression paired with his physical feat of endearment. “you go to sleep”.

“i want water” he immediately demands, yohan again allows a smack on his back, perturbed by the change of his tone in the fashion of an unaltered adult.

“okay fine, water”.

unfortunately, yohan underestimates how much he would sort of do for him, it’s just so the younger can stop hugging him so tight, he echoes in his mind.

but he’s probably lying to himself in that regard, the contracting embrace encapsulates solace he supposes he never knew existed for someone like him.

he could probably get used to it.

   OCTOBER  25  2021.   IOYS STUDIOS

“have you ever actually considered painting much more seriously?”

the significantly strange wavelength of what they can call their “relationship” is probably what sprouted such a question. rae often inquires, he’s curious about it all, maybe he was meant for the stars, when his pupils dilate in his typically questioning manner, yohan can’t help but observe how they resemble constellations he so dearly cherishes.

he used to be scared of yohan, in complete tandem with several of the members, yet his fear was deemed different by yohan’s subconscious. it took one physical clash in the practice room for him to run away and hide, it provided him with excellent laughing fodder for a mere moment, but afterward it was simply strange.

the reason they’re painting is technically all due to yohan in the first place, he muttered to him that it was an “early birthday gift”, except such a gift was hidden from the members because they’d easily chastise him for not resting during his break, hwan already did a good number on him.

“it’s just a hobby” he mumbles, tongue prodding at the side of his cheek as his glasses make a daring attempt to fall off his face, steadily sliding down his nose. “nothing serious..”

yohan realizes he must say that about many things, because byeol’s responding look is reminiscent of many he’s gotten throughout the years when musing about his unserious hobbies.

“you said that about singing too and..”

that earns a snicker, it’s true, but they can’t exactly be compared. yongrae takes yet another glimpse, as if trying to take a look into yohan’s mind. his attempts appear to be futile, and he turns his head back to his half done painting.

“well that was before i knew i would debut”.

“didn’t you always know?”

he likes to ask questions, and yohan enjoys answering questions, enjoys relaying more information to his members in a manner which heightens their intrigue. he’s unsure of why they’re always so curious about his life, he isn’t that interesting in hindsight.

“i mean.. you never know, remember when we thought iseul-ah was in the lineup? we got fooled”.

technically they didn’t, iseul was a fuse, somewhat of a breaking point for the company, yohan doesn’t try to talk to him now that they’ve debuted, he’s sure the other holds back some contempt, but not enough to block hajoon’s number, he’s sure they still talk.

they were a.. close pair he remembers.

he shrugs in reply. “i guess you always just seem to know, sometimes i think you’re a psychic, hyung”.

the way he describes things always irks yohan, but not in the usual sense. he’s invested in the manner of his verbal illustrations, he longs to hear more. “that’s funny”.

his wrist has begun to cramp, he finally sets down the paintbrushes and adjusts his glasses. there’s some scrawled across his shirt, shades of blue he doesn’t recall ever actually choosing, yet they permeate the canvas before him anyway.

“it’s pretty”.

“it’s not done” yohan isn’t a perfectionist, he simply wants for it to be done, the chemicals sneaking up his nose. “i don’t want us to stay out too late”.

“oh, do we have a curfew?” the younger inquires, raising an eyebrow and beginning to giggle at his own joke.

“well you need sleep”.

he snorts, opting to frown at the mere mention of sleep. “how can you say that with little sleep under your belt hyung?”

yohan gets chastised for it often, he finds such a prospect hilarious, consistently getting criticized by his own dongsaengs for his terrible sleeping habits— or, he supposes insomniac habits, he doesn’t sleep much, he supposes that’s why they always point it out.

“i’m just looking out for you”.

yohan wants to vomit, he’s unsure of why it’s taken him so long to verbally utter those words to any of his members, but he really does just want that. yes his members are strange, out there, loud, occasionally they irritate him beyond words, but he does care, he tries his best to verbalize that with actions the best he can.

“how about we just stay a bit longer, it’s not that late” he excuses, he’s correct, it’s only eight o’clock, crossing late territory won’t be evident until it’s at least nine. “you aren’t even done yet”.

yohan’s gaze softens, he guesses it won’t be that much of a problem. “sure”.

his birthday is coming up anyway, yohan will do everything he can for him.

   JUNE  16  2020.   MELIORA DORMS

“and why exactly are you doing this for me again?”

yohan doesn’t mean to exude such a tone, especially with someone older than him, but he supposes he’s much too used to it. chaiya doesn’t mind much, besides the occasional jab at the maknaes whenever they disrespect him as the eldest member, the act of formality is the furthest from his mind.

“you have an addiction” he merely states, and yohan scoffs.

“it’s a healthy addiction” as if that makes any sense, he probably sounds like a raging hypocrite, but that would be nothing new. “better than all the sugar you put into that shit”.

“don’t you swear at me” he points an accusatory finger, yohan’s eyebrow merely raises. “i’m older you know, just because you’re the leader doesn’t mean you have all the power”.

yohan narrows his eyes, longing to say a specific something. the eldest seems to understand despite the silence, because he smiles; “you better stay there, not letting you run away from trying something new”.

that appears to be a consistent theming with all of the members. since when did they all just think that? why do they consistently tell yohan the same thing? well.. the ones who’ll talk to him anyway.

they only debuted a month ago, half of them won’t speak to him and most of them seem terrified at his mere gaze, but they all look to understand the same thing.

yohan’s a control freak.

how funny, he just barely recognizes the inner workings of all their minds, but it’s like they all look at him and think the same thing.

yohan enjoys having things remain the same. what’s the point of trying a new thing that he may dislike when the current wavelength of his life is somewhat comforting to him already? he simply stares, blinking at the concoction the eldest is pouring sugar into. his nose crinkles.

“see? you always do that”.

“i like my coffee black” he voices clearly, but he’s not going to listen, why would he? he’s already doing all of this, at least he knows a good chunk of the members are as stubborn as he is.

“i know that” his tone appears gentle, as if yohan’s some sort of baby. he presumes chaiya would be a good teacher in another life, the thought almost earns a smile. “i just need opinions”.

from me of all people?

and yohan doesn’t think he’s.. mean per say, he just thinks that his opinion could possibly anger one. he’ll leave all the blatant insolence to junmin, there’s so much which could spill out, but he decides to actually have self control in contrast to the other.

chaiya again smiles. “i don’t mind if you don’t like it, that’s the point of opinions isn’t it?”

is this how people make friends now? yohan almost laughs, this is probably the best case scenario of such a thing. “besides, there are twelve other people living here, i need to draw actual conclusions”.

he’s simply so cheerful, and yohan finally does smile, a small one, but a smile nonetheless. “fine”.

“see? i knew you’d come around”.

yohan snorts. “don’t be so full of yourself”.

the words hold no truth, bear no genuine weight on the confidence of the eldest, yohan finds it pretty admirable.

he can just deal with it for now.

   AUGUST  10  2022.   OAKLAND  CA

yohan gets about twenty minutes of peace before his door is kicked down.

his eye cracks open, and he heavily sighs at the sight of a familiar headache. kang yaejoon just so happens to be full of energy, a consistent noise yohan begged to not bother him.

“oh fuck this”.

“don’t swear hyung”.

and suddenly, the younger flops on top of him, possibly breaking all of his bones in a singular movement. yohan grunts, but the other doesn’t let up, instead makes himself comfortable crushing him. “is this a guarantee?” he’s somehow able to let the words escape him, glancing up at the younger who appears contended by it all.

“this is how i show my love for you!”

“by trying to kill me?”

yohan is so fucking tired, maybe he shouldn’t have fought to be placed into a group with twelve other guys, his head falls forward and he takes a deep breath into his pillow. he hears the younger snicker, completely overjoyed at the prospect of the older’s misery. “hey, sometimes it works”.

“yeah sometimes”.

“don’t be so mad, hyung, i always knew i was one of your favorites”.

yohan doesn’t even attempt to refute such a claim, he instead decides to make himself comfortable with the situation in the best manner possible, head remaining rested on his pillow. yaejoon mumbles something that he doesn’t try to decode, eyes begging to flutter closed.

he’s disturbed by a whisper; “hyung”.

“yes?” he yawns, eyes now closed.

“am i really your favorite?”

he cracks one eye open, hoping to convey his feat of chagrin with just a singular movement of one eye. “is that what you’re most concerned about?”

“yes”.

“let me sleep”.

“it’s only nine pm!”

yohan typically doesn’t sleep early, but the tour has practically wiped him out, sleeping early is the only thing he can do in order to ensure he doesn’t pass out on stage.

he grabs onto the younger, instead pulling him into an embrace, one leg thrown over the other. “shh, quiet now, i need my beauty sleep”.

yaejoon stares, yohan can feel it despite the fact that his own are closed. “wow, you wanna lay with me? always knew you had a crush on me”.

“shut up”.

“alright hyung”.

he may talk his ear off the whole entire night, but yohan decides that such a prospect might just be the slightest bit comforting, even if irritating.

   AUGUST  6  2022.   LOS ANGELES  CA

the longer yohan spends time with him, he realizes there are many similarities between him and kristian.

it goes past the amount of siblings they have, their equal adoration of cats, unhealthily taking in much caffeine, being much introverted, often on the side when the groups arguing.

he really didn’t recognize how much the younger is basically him in a skewed font, glares and all.

los angeles is the first stop on every american tour, yohan didn’t mean to study it, he’s just always around once the staff begin muttering about future plans, barely alerted by his presence due to his silence. that’s where kristian was born, he doesn’t often talk about it, not even to jaehwan, who he practically talks about everything to.

yohan’s only aware of one thing, a thing he’s aware of once it comes to most of the members; he’s got a complicated relationship with his parents.

not the first time with a member in this group, he makes occasional passing comments about how they’re probably crazy, doesn’t go much further than that.

he’s clearly been weary of coming home, in a fashion that’s typically uncharacteristic of him, his usually tranquil manner disturbed for possibly the first time since yohan’s met him.

and now he’s grabbing his jacket, heading out.. somewhere.

“where are you going?”

he produces the closest thing to a ‘hmph’, scoffing at the prospect of nothing. “my parents called for a reunion dinner because they heard i’m here”.

yohan blinks, studying the younger for a while. he doesn’t care what the members do after hours, he’s simply concerned about what reunion dinner entails. “and you’re really going?”

the younger shrugs, even with disquietude coloring his features, he wants to appear completely unscathed by such news. yohan again narrows his eyebrows, it’s easy to spot such a facade when you’ve had one up so many times yourself. “my siblings will be there anyway”.

“but your parents..”

he doesn’t finish.

kristian simply stares, attempting to look unbothered despite the clear lack of satisfaction emanating from him in all. yohan yearns to give him a hug, for some unusual reason, he wants to tell him everything is going to be okay, which makes no sense because the younger seems to despise hugs if they aren’t from his favorite person.

he pushes down such thoughts. “doesn’t matter, i’ve dealt with them before”.

you shouldn’t have to.

yohan really does care, he feels like hajoon, constantly babying the members even if they can reasonably afford to take care of themselves. with the way the younger stares, he can practically tell what yohan is thinking.

“don’t you think you should stay?”

yohan is really trying.

he tilts his head. “do you want my company or something?”

“no.. i’m just worried about what might happen”.

“well if i don’t come back then you’ll know they killed me”.

yohan deadpans, but the slightest snicker leaves him. that was pretty funny.

“if you need me to come pick you up i will”.

“you’re too sweet”.

it isn’t said like an insult, not in the manner it usually is, that makes yohan the slightest bit glad. “don’t get sappy”.

“i was saving it just for you”.

yohan scoffs, but there is nothing genuine behind it.

   APRIL  30  2022.   DOWNTOWN SEOUL

yohan never thought he was anybody’s favorite member, mainly because he’s always perceived himself as pretty unapproachable,

but it appears jaehwan enjoys differing with him even when he doesn’t specifically utter it.

and how he drew an impatient blabbermouth to his side will always perturb yohan, he seems to attract a completely contrasting crowd, which includes over half of the meliora members. jaehwan woke up early for possibly the first time ever (despite his day typically ending at nine pm, he’s always out untimely) and dragged a groggy yohan out of the house. the taste of toothpaste still fresh on his tongue, he barely had time to adjust.

“what’s the point of this exactly?” the younger appears elated by the sight of displayed baked treats. he’s always so happy, joy caused by even the slightest of things.

jaehwan continues bouncing up and down as he seemingly contemplates on what to get. “i just wanted to go out, you know you’re my favorite right?”

yohan is unsure if his heart should swell at such a fact. “oh? i thought it was kyuhyunie”.

it technically is, no matter how much it changes, jaehwan will always have a specifically special place in his heart for ahn kyuhyun mostly. yohan doesn’t mind, it’s not much of a pressing matter.

jaehwan frowns, feigned offense in the stretch of that downward turn. “things can change”.

well they usually don’t.

“do you want macarons?”

at the question, jaehwan plays at thought, though his choice appears completely avowed, yohan still squints his eyes anyway. well, he could probably pass that over with the reason that he left his glasses at home, what would jaehwan know?

the younger smiles, bright, all teeth present in the frankly pretty grin. “absolutely, do you not want macarons?”

he shrugs. “i don’t know..”

they do end up getting macarons, several flavors available yet all of them tasting the same to yohan. maybe he doesn’t allow for too much focus, perhaps he should’ve allowed the specific tastes to linger on his tongue, then he would’ve enjoyed them much more than it appeared.

jaehwan drags yohan by hand around downtown seoul for the filler of the day they have time, comeback preparations begin soon and it seems he just wanted to spend time with his “favorite person” (his words, not yohan’s, though the consistent smiles he earns are invigorating enough that he has no rebuttal), something of a mystery to yohan.

“how do you plan to afford this?”

“you mean how do we?”

yohan’s eyes narrow, his vision somewhat blurry as he eyes the miniature figures jaehwan appears so entranced by. they pose nothing of a interest to him, not in the manner they clearly do to jaehwan, but he keeps his mouth shut.

“i don’t want any of this”.

okay, not shut for long enough.

jaehwan pouts, is he really sad? that’s ironic.

“can’t you do me this favor?”

his eyebrows pinch together, is he serious? yohan about laughs at such a thing. “i got you macarons”.

“macarons cost nothing!”

“so why didn’t you get them yourself!?”

he opts to not answer that question, instead taking ahold of yohan’s arm and lurching him forward, out of the titular store.

his feet may have begun to swell, he’s unsure.

he doesn’t exactly long for home, a certain someone just so happens to be weighing in on his conscience, he surmises that going out is better than facing a member who causes his eye to twitch erratically, even if leftover mushy feelings remain constant.

“this sugar intake is unhealthy” yohan ironically bites into an abnormally large chocolate bar as he inquires on such a thing.

“you need it after all, you don’t eat any sugar!”

“i do, healthily”.

jaehwan snorts. “healthy is a fake word, nothing’s healthy at the moment”.

“how deep”.

“i’m being serious” he earns a mere shoulder nudge as his response. he narrows his eyes, vision obscured with the lack of his glasses present. “don’t fight, okay? i don’t want you two to be mad at each other..”

and maybe, for a specific purpose, he’s allowing for the words to escape from the sheer kindness of his heart.

“i’ll try”.

by try, he means he might just have to bottle it all up again, maybe avoid him consistently in the fashion he has since after chuseok, but it technically would be trying.

“no more avoiding him either”.

damnit.

well, yohan can’t do anything else now.

   SEPTEMBER  9  2022.   SCOTIABANK ARENA

they’re about two hours into rehearsal, the complaining begins as soon as the threshold is crossed.

haneul exceedingly whines about the heat, then suddenly jaehwan is endlessly complaining, chaiya is attempting to stare into the sun and yaejoon wants water.

yohan is aware in these kinds of situations he’s supposed to sport a whole responsible leader attitude about the whole thing, but he can’t find the air to care, a hand combing through his hair and lethargy sinking him to the ground.

“let’s take a break now!”

well yohan’s glad he didn’t have to utter it.

he grabs a spot in one of the corners, eyes closed as he allows for his head to comfortably snuggle against the nearby stage equipment. it’s possibly dangerous, though that happens to exist on a further plane of his mind.

he gets distracted when he feels the irking sensation of a presence beside him, a presence which has his eyes narrowing despite them being fluttered shut.

now yohan is unsure of much regarding canada and its specific climate, he doesn’t have enough time to delve into that one, however, the heat typically dissipates around early september, that is not the current wavelength of the weather.

when he cracks open one eye, he’s met with kyuhyun attempting to keep himself awake despite his head begging to be let down so he can doze off. yohan’s perceived his unusual bout of weariness these days, not that every member is not extremely tired over the soul sucking mindscape of a tour, but energy 24/7 kyuhyun suddenly becoming not so talkative should begin ringing alarm bells.

“you need to sleep”.

and yohan supposes he’ll just always be a raging hypocrite, sleep just so happens to be his worst enemy in the world.

kyuhyun turns his way, a seething exhaustion gleaming in his pupils. yohan blinks, he so yearns to give him a hug, he just.. he just looks like he needs one, looks soft, probably feels soft too.

“ouch, do i look that bad?”

yohan chuckles, poking his cheek as his lips take a downturn. “you look like you could use better time”.

kyuhyun scoots closer and makes his head comfortable on his shoulder. yohan longs to question the wavelength of his actions, but he opts for silence as a response. typically, kyuhyun could not resist blabbering, extroverted tendencies carried throughout no matter what.

today appears to display a couple of differences.

“maybe you should stack up on the caffeine” yohan sports, amusement elevating his words.

kyuhyun offers a snort, though deflated. “ki would kill me, you know, i used to be crazy for iced coffee, she’s practically keeping me alive”.

“an energy drink once in a while isn’t terrible”.

“you can’t talk hyung” he rebuts, not scathing, tone much too gentle for the perceived insult seemingly delivered. “your blood may as well be replaced with caffeine”.

“it has some good effects”.

“sounds like something an addict says” kyuhyun unconvincingly laced their hands together, a figurative embrace that surges warmth despite the hoisted heat in the surrounding air. “kiarra would faint”.

yohan furrows his eyebrows, somewhat offended by the certain insult. “well if you attempt it in a healthy manner, it won’t be as bad”.

kyuhyun sighs heavily, supposedly on the brink of dozing off, yohan guesses no energy drinks shall be bestowed upon him, he may as well just fall asleep before they can finish rehearsals.

yohan pokes him again. “go sleep, you’ll be able to catch up tomorrow”.

kyuhyun scoffs, clearly attempting to rebut that claim, unfortunately, yohan’s much more stubborn than he is.

“go”.

“okay!”

kyuhyun’s nose scrunches, but it’s clear he needed that either way.

   SEPTEMBER  21  2021.   GWANGJU  SK

junmin somehow agrees to celebrate chuseok with yohan’s family and he basically has a mini heart attack at the fact.

he suggested such a thing for a blatant reason, he really really knew the extent of junmin’s parents behavior. yejin is constantly at the forefront of his mind, she’s just a kid, barely recognizes the reality of her situation and much too young to even attempt a shot at independence.

he isn’t exactly sure of why he so wanted to, he wasn’t aware the other members had plans. haneul definitely would’ve invited him, hajoon as well, shit, maybe even rae if he wasn’t holding fear back from clashes in the practice room. he took that as a challenge, it wasn’t one, who was he even competing with? himself? his sane mind that tells him to not continuously do this to himself?

when he inquired about it to junmin, the younger just stared. they had been.. well, what they were was complicated at the time. there was no semblance of bad blood, not any that yohan is aware of, he so wishes he could read junmin’s mind, he embroils things in confusion, yet yohan yearns for his presence no matter what.

“you could bring yejin too” he recalled saying, striving to appear mundane enough. “i know you want to”.

well yohan doesn’t know enough about what exactly junmin wants.

god he hates him.

actually, he doesn’t.

he presented a good enough smile. “sure”.

sure, yohan held solace in that one singular word for the week coming up to going home. he never forgets anything, but the mere idea of having to disclose such information to areum and hyeri kills him for the duration, his own head pounds at that.

oh, you’re bringing your boyfriend back home?

not my boyfriend.

she taunts him about it even with the most silent of mutters.

thankfully, possibly because the world decided to hand yohan a single favor for once in his untouched fucking life, his siblings are much too caught up with pampering the house’s newest baby to observe yohan’s impending impatience.

junmin easily slides into the cracks with such perfection yohan wants to die. he’s good at listening and he has a nice smile, yohan’s parents adore him at first glance, yisoo allows for his thumb to continuously point backward; you’ve hit the jackpot!

yohan hasn’t hit the jackpot, he would never call himself a coward, he isn’t, he really isn’t, on most occasions he would simply face a trouble like this head on instead of displaying a terribly manufactured facade.

“don’t get your feelings hurt, han”.

hyeri always says this without any additional context, but yohan isn’t in need for a situation like this. his nose crinkles, and she crushes a dormant cigarette under the heel of her boot. he presumed she quit, he guesses she lied about that fact to mom.

“i won’t”.

who is he kidding?

she does that invasive stare thing, her eyes narrow in complete judgement, she could never be ambiguous, nothing of dubiousness when it’s all scrawled over her features 24/7. yohan constantly feels surveilled under her gaze, when she finally calms the eyebrow raise, she sucks her teeth, teeth drawing blood from where they sink into her bottom lip. “i’m sure your members would believe that one”.

he opts to leave that one unanswered.

junmin doesn’t bring anything up, and yohan’s grateful he remains silent because dad and mom would probably freak if they found out what he was doing behind the scenes. he loves them, but they retain too much of that worry they constantly weighed down on him during his childhood.

“you’re making fun of me”.

“i’m not”.

“you are” yohan clears his throat, chin tilted up in a stubborn display of.. something. “i didn’t decorate my childhood bedroom, you know”.

junmin frowns, cracking his knuckles in his typical i just need something to do fashion. “the color scheme is simply funny, and you used to be so cute!”

yohan guesses he likes it sometimes, enjoys the fact that junmin has that somewhat exuberant switch whenever he’s with him alone. it’s such a selfish thought, yohan surmises he’s probably a pretty selfish person when it comes to the current circumstances.

he doesn’t mean to be, he simply can’t help it.

“could you not? those photos are essential for keeping memories alive!”

and then they bicker, it’s always the same between them, yohan finds comfort in that.

it all went fine, yejin is an absolute angel, areum wants to keep her around forever, she formed a strong ass attachment in just seven hours, yohan’s sure she’ll sign adoption papers straight away.

“he should come around next year too” his mother whispers once most are out of view. yohan pauses, blinking, throat drying up in an aberrant manner, he winces, accidentally turning the water much too high, he might’ve just burned his own hand unconsciously washing the dishes. “i like them both, they’re the sweetest”.

yohan might as well just die.

“i mean—” he swears at himself, how do you disagree with your own mother? “i can see if he wants to again..”

then it’s over, areum has to begrudgingly let yejin go and hyeri continues giving him that look. yohan isn’t leaving just yet, technically, he has a sure fire break until the company decides to shove him back on stage, mental wellbeing better or not.

“think they just found their new favorite” areum made yejin a gift, hair tied into twin braids and decorated with bows. she’s adorable, yohan is aware of how the easy devotion formed.

“she’s gonna want an invite next year”.

yohan frowns, playful, nothing real. “you don’t sound glad”.

junmin shakes his head. “no no your siblings are nice”. he looks down at the floor, hands clasped with his sisters. “i guess i wouldn’t mind”.

yohan wants to jump at the fact, that’s pretty pathetic of me.

“could you call me when you get off the train?”

and listen, yohan’s always been a little self destructive, he’s going to get hurt in the future, maybe he’ll cry, bite off his nails in anxiety, hate himself,

but it feels so good now, he’s afraid he can’t help it.

“of course, that’s no problem”.

[generallysapphic]

to hold your hand in mine +18 (shuri x riri)

riri has a fear of drowning, and shuri wants to help, but she finds it’s more of riri’s guilt thats haunting her.

riri centric, i could write essays about this woman 🫶🏽

this is more so a character and relationship study piece i’ve been dying to write for these cute lil lesbians for a very long time. healthy black lesbian relationships mean a lot to me so i had to write them again!! this is more so angsty than most of my stories so expect that! (queen ramonda is alive, namor is dead)

warnings; established relationship, descriptive nightmares, LOTS of survivors guilt, thoughts of death, panic attacks, fear of death and drowning, talks of death, small argument and slight miscommunication, lots of crying, heavy feelings of guilt, protective! shuri/ strap on sex, slight hair pulling, soft core sex, more crying, overstim, pet names, first time, praise kink, communication.

song inspo: ceilings by lizzy mcalpine (please go listen!)

dedicated to all the shuriri lesbians/sapphics out there, i see you and understand you 🫶🏽

tag list!! @shuriszn @msplayas @zayswriting @dejaonline @fetchyourlife @crispynightmaremagazine @verachii @bubshri @karimwillia @ashleighshaw @letitias-fav @neptoons1998 @shurixririshipper @cansah2002-blog @widowmakker @tuesdaylovesu @chocoflagcutii @zhanylai @blackgirlfariy @i-luvv-stars @heartsforjojo @kamorsstuff @jessiap @pidgemotoiii @shuriris-suff @shurixririshipper

riri wakes up with a jolt, the air flying out of her lungs, gasping deeply, as she grounds herself on the bed, squeezing the sheets between her hands. she squeezes her eyes shut, trying to count back from 50 like her therapist said, but her ears are still ringing, her eyes are still burning, she can still hear shuri, “mama! mama, wake up, wake up!” and it’s too much.

she shudders, still trying to count, finding the kimoyo beads shuri gave her on her wrist and toying with them, just to feel something to calm herself. griot alerts, “is something wrong, ms williams?” and riri blinks, looking down and letting out an uncomfortable laugh, “no, no, i’m fine. sorry to wake you… well, i guess you don’t sleep,” she says softly, moving the sheets away from her legs and sitting on the edge of the bed and shaking her leg.

griot starts, “do you want me to call the panther for you?” and riri’s stomach aches, her head ringing, “no! no, no, i’m seriously fine. do not call shuri,” she reiterates and griot speaks again, “your heart is pacing at 132 beats a minute and it appears your REM schedule has been disrupted. it seems… did you have a nightmare, princess?”

angrily, riri takes the beds off and sets them on her dresser, it’s too many questions she can’t answer right now. she walks away, heading to her bathroom and running some cool water to calm herself down.

she had been having the same nightmare for over three months now. she’s always drowning, it starts, all the water from the ocean feels like it’s sat on her chest and she can’t move. her eyes aren’t open, but she can see and her brain is unresponsive and nothing makes sense, expect the queen. the queen of wakanda, someone she barely knows is rushing towards her, holding her softly and pulling her to the light. she can feel it on her skin, and she knows someone is giving her CPR because the weight on her chest is a softer one, one of hope and love that wants her to wake up. she never does though, her eyes still closed and even the queen isn’t awake. but she still feels everything, she hears shuri screaming and crying and it tears her up inside, she feels like she’s dying, it’s awful—

riri blinks, the tears in her eyes falling into the sink of running water. she looks in the mirror, when did she start crying? she frowns, wiping her tears away with wet hands and cutting off the light once more, walking in the darkness to her bed. she looks at the clock on her dresser, 4:18 am, and sighs, laying back down and looking at the ceiling.

her thoughts are loud, i can’t breathe, i hate this, i miss shuri, why doesn’t she hate me, why am i alive— and she stirs to her side, closing her eyes and trying to calm herself. her kimoyo beads go off, the only chime it could be being shuri and she turns over to read the message.

shuri : my love, griot says your vitals are spiked are you alright?

riri frowns again, exhaling a deep breath as her tears form once more, why are you worried about me, hate me and make this easier, please —

you: i’m fine, just had a bad dream.

shuri’s response is immediate, do you want to come home? tell me about it?

riri bites at her lip, home, home and safe with shuri, home with the queen and throne room she got drowned in, home with the mother she nearly killed, who almost died trying to save her, you: no, it’s fine.

shuri types again: i’ll be there in the morning.

riri groans, knowing there’s no way to convince shuri she’s fine and rolls over, accepting it. it makes her heart flutter though, to know that shuri loves her that much, but the fluttering ultimately stops when she’s overcome with guilt. why? why does shuri love her? she can’t fathom it, it was so strange to get that long paragraph in the middle of the night four months ago of shuri’s undying love for her. riri remembers staring at the message for so long, hoping to wake up and never see it again.

her therapist says her guilt is making her feel unlovable, like there’s no way someone can be with her and love for who she is and riri always argues that it makes sense! how could shuri love her; she’s the reason the city flooded, the reason namor wanted to kill the queen in the first place, the reason shuri is the queen now! all because she wanted some fucking extra credit? shuri should’ve let her die, she always concludes.

her eyes feel full once her tangent ends, her poor sheets being picked apart at her hands. riri knows there’s no way she can tell shuri any of this, shuri would just make it worse telling her that riri wasn’t at fault and that she had no way of knowing, but what if she did? how convenient is it that a government official ordains her work and accepts it from MIT? it was right in front of her face, she just chose to look away, she’s so fucking stupid—

her beads go off again, shuri: please call me.

her heart is heavy, she can tell shuri is worried and only one of them needs to be awake right now. she calls her on the phone, it ringing once before shuri picks up, “hi, sthandwa, are you okay?” her accent melting over the phone. riri smiles sadly, eyes wanting to spill over, “yea, i’m fine, i told you— just a nightmare.”

shuri picks it up quick though, “you sound like you’ve been crying,” and riri groans inwardly, damn shuri and her intuition. “well, i haven’t, so,” she snaps back, and shuri sighs. “riri,” and the soft call of her name makes her heart ache, she’s squeezing her sheets again, and closing her eyes to brace herself. “you can tell me, you know? i’m always here for you,”

yeah, why? why can’t you just fucking hate me? “i’m literally fine, shuri, now go to bed, you have to be up in the morning to come get me,” riri jokes slightly, trying to move in from this topic as fast as possible. shuri sighs out a laugh, “i will, but i was worried about you. you haven’t slept with your beads on in so long and the one time you do, griot tells me your heart is pacing and you woke up so suddenly, it just reminded me of a not too long ago.”

riri sighs, she had stopped sleeping with her beads in bed so shuri wouldn’t have a track record of the three months of nightmares and waking up to she’s been going through. the first time she did leave them on, shuri was on top of her health just like now; asking questions and checking on her. so she stopped— and she knew it hurt shuri’s feelings, her kimoyo beads being an extension of her love for her all the way in wakanda, so they can always be connected and close to one another— but riri couldn’t do it, she’d have them on all day and when she slept shuri would know, she’d know about her guilt and it would kill riri to think shuri could find out. “yeah i know, it was just another nightmare, im seriously fine,” riri wants to get off the phone, shuri’s voice so close to her and how caring she is makes all of riri’s body ache.

she hears another sigh from her girlfriend, “okay.. i’m choosing to believe you, love, but please. if there’s anything you need—” riri cuts her off, “yes i know, shuri, i’ll tell you. now go to bed so i can see you in the morning, okay?” she can see shuri’s smile who finally agrees and whispers an ‘i love you’ and riri whispers it back, hanging up and sighing. she looks up at the ceiling, tears spilling over into her bonnet and she once more picks at the sheets and shakes her leg.

shuri’s at her dorm, dora milaje and all, at 10 in the morning. riri had already accepted she wasn’t going back to sleep that night and had decided to stay awake and pack. she got a run in around campus, leaving her beads once more, then decided to get breakfast while she wait on shuri.

when they finally meet at riri’s dorm, shuri pulls her into a deep kiss, rubbing up her back and keeping her close. the inches between them makes shuri dip down a bit to do so. riri wraps her arms around shuri’s neck, smiling into her mouth. she pulls away first, “hi,” she says softly, their foreheads touching. shuri smiles down at her, eyes flashing between her lips and eyes, “hi, my love,” and riri wants to double over, shuri’s nicknames might be the death of her one day.

they’re escorted to the jet quickly, everyone at MIT not even surprised the queen of wakanda was here once more to get her girlfriend. they sit close to each other on the plane, riri’s head on shuri’s shoulders as okoye flies steady to wakanda. shuri whispers to her, “did you go back to sleep after i called you?” and riri looks up and nods, “yeah,” and it’s obviously a lie, she knows she looks exhausted, all from crying, not sleeping, and jogging in just the span of 6 hours.

shuri frowns, “you clearly didn’t, we’ll take a nap once we get back,” and riri wants to hide her smile in shuri’s shoulder, playing with her hand as her body heats up. shuri was always so attentive to riri, always making her take care of herself. you don’t deserve it though, her thoughts creep through and she sighs, closing her eyes, just wanting a small moment of peace. she feels shuri stroke her cheek in her hand and okoye announces they’re very close to home.

riri bites at her lips before it slips out, “how’s your mom?” she whispers lowly and shuri smiles a bit, some sadness on her lips, “doing well. she’s still sleeping,” she says back and riri nods, not wanting to push the boundary any further. queen ramonda’s coma was nearly three months old at this point and even with all the wakandan tech in the world and riri’s help, she still slept, breathing deeply and laying silently.

riri remembers when she woke up first, coughing up water and still hearing screams despite her ears full. the queen was breathing, kimoyo beads shining a bright green to show she was alive, just not awake. shuri rushed to her side and aided her immediately, shaking her and giving her cpr, nakia trying to answers shuri’s screams of “why won’t she wake up?!” as fast as she could. okoye came to riri’s side, holding her and asking her if she was alright but riri couldn’t think; why wasn’t the queen waking up? why did riri wake up and she didn’t? namor speaks amongst all the terror, “shuri. you’re the queen now, take responsibility for your actions,” and he points to riri who sits, frozen, before she looks back at the queen, beads still bright with no sign of her waking up.

she shudders at the memory, tucking her forehead deeper into shuri’s shoulder who leans against her, “you can see her, yknow,” she whispers quietly and shuri’s offered it before but riri feels her chest heave, the weight of seeing the queen again pulling her entire body lower into the ship, “no, i’m— im okay, yknow i don’t do good in hospitals,” and she isn’t completely lying, she really does hate all the medicine and iv bags and such, just reminds her of when she was younger. and shuri nods, completely understanding and loving, and it makes riri feel sick.

okoye speaks, “your highness, we are home,” and riri is grateful she doesn’t have to talk anymore. she gets up to look out the window, the city is still fixing itself, some water still be flushed out and some homes demolished and riri shudders and walks away from the window and sits back down. shuri holds her hand once more, “do you want to work in the lab today?” and she nods, knowing she’d rather be distracted than anything. shuri smiles when riri does and the plane lands. she stands first, “but we’ll get some rest first, yeah?” and riri looks into her eyes, tiredly, and nods.

many of the dora milaje grab riri’s luggage and she tries to help to mostly avoid sleeping with shuri but shuri reassures her that it’s fine. they walk down the corridors and pass the lab before riri stops, “one quick project before?” she says slightly smirking, knowing shuri really couldn’t resist. she turns, sighing with a fond smile on her face, “…one. just one,” she reinforces and riri nods and laughs, a genuine noise she hadn’t heard from herself in a minute.

they walk in together, doctors and scientists alike greeting them and shuri walks them over to her side, moving some of her past projects. riri sees another two, three sets of kimoyo beads, but a slimmer, slicker style. she rolls up her sleeves and finds some goggles, “what are these?” she asks, looking at the different styles. shuri turns, gloves and goggles on and smiles a bit sadly, “i was working on making a different design for you, i figured you couldn’t sleep with my original version of beads because they were too big,” she says and kisses riri’s forward before walking past her to get another pair of gloves.

riri sighs, she knows, god fucking dammit, she knows how much it hurts shuri to keep her out, but she can’t afford shuri knowing. she really can’t, “oh, thank you,” she says quietly and shuri comes to back to her smiling and handing her a pair of gloves.

one project turns into five and before they know it, the sun is setting low over the city and shuri and riri have been up and working since they arrived home.

shuri practically forced riri to go and get some food with her, which usually results in shuri leaving with a huff, grabbing some food for the both of them and feeding riri bites as she works. riri of course does the same thing, missing her mouth sometimes because of her height which shuri then promptly makes fun of. they laugh and work together, riri’s mind finally at ease with her thoughts.

it’s only when shuri’s beads go off, griot reminding her she has her daily visit with her mother in fifteen minutes. riri stills, looking at her, “you— you can go, i can finish up in here,” she says and shuri looks at her, words so clearly ready to be said but instead she purses her lips and smiles, “we’ll get some rest after i come back,” and she says it like she won’t let riri stay up any longer, leaning forward and kissing riri’s forehead once more. the contact makes riri smile, tilting up and connecting their lips instead. shuri smiles against her mouth, pulling away before riri distracts her once more. she walks away with another quick kiss and another before finally leaving, riri alone in the lab with googles and tracksuit still on.

she sighs, taking off her goggles and gloves, fiddling with her beads once more. this time griot doesn’t alert, probably adapting to the fact that she likes to mess with it rather than something being wrong. but instead she speaks, “hey griot?”

the system alarms, “yes, princess?” and she bites her lips again, “how long was shuri working on her newest kimoyo beads?” and she knows griot knows. he speaks after a second of calculating, “around 25 days,” and riri’s body floods with guilt, shuri had been working so had to make her accommodations since she’s known about her nightmares. she sighs out, “is there something wrong princess?” and she shakes her head, trying to steady her heart.

“princess, your heart is beating rather fast, should i call the panther?” and more guilt rises, “no, she’s — she’s with her mom, i’m fine, i just need some rest.” riri repeats once she thinks about shuri long enough, sighing and walking out of the lab. shuri is coming out her mothers room, smiling and she looks up at riri, “oh, you’re done? ready for bed then?” and riri steadies her heart and fakes a smile, nodding.

they head to shuri’s room together, hand in hand and riri speaks first, “how was your mom?” and shuri smiles, “good. she talks in her sleep, so sometimes she responds.” and riri smiles and laughs a bit once shuri does too, trying to keep the wave of guilt down in her throat. they reach shuri’s room fast, the bed made and some clothes on it, pajamas riri notes.

shuri speaks, “i figured you’d want to wear mine since you keep taking them anyways,” she says and riri smirks and faces her, “you’re just mad i look better in them,” and shuri laughs, hugging her from behind, kissing her scalp, “maybe. i don’t even wear them anyways, so, mutually beneficial relationship,” she mumbles and riri smiles sadly, holding on her forearms. shuri stays there a bit, like she knows riri needs it, which riri does, so she’s grateful, and then pulls away, the safety of her leaving riri sighing, “i’m going to get ready for bed,” shuri says and riri nods.

once shuri walks off, riri undresses and envelopes herself in shuri’s clothes, the scent of her girlfriend surrounding her and making her smile. she walks into the attached bathroom with shuri, who’s brushing her teeth, and smiles at her in the mirror, seeing that riri’s toothbrush was still here. she starts as well, leaning against shuri and eyes closing slightly, the lack of sleep she got finally catching up to her. shuri’s saying something to her but her eyelids are heavy and she can barely hear her. “riri,” shuri whispers and she looks up, blinking and toothbrush still in her mouth. “i was saying come on before you fall asleep at the sink, love,”

riri nods, complacent enough to just listen and spits, rinsing her mouth and leaning her head in shuri’s shoulder, who laughs and leads her to her bed. riri falls first, on the left side like she normally does and shuri pulls the covers over her, laying on her right side and cuddling up next to her. riri settles on her collarbone, sighing out a small “goodnight,” and shuri kisses it back on her forehead. riri really doesnt want to go to sleep, she knows she’ll have another nightmare, but her body is exhausted, she can’t move. she hopes tonight will be the one night she doesnt.

her eyelids slide shut as she feels shuri’s breathing on her face and it calms her down, her body finally shutting down.

and she’s dreaming again. and again, there’s no light, she’s surrounded by complete darkness. she feels the water on chest, filling her ears and surrounding her skin, and it’s a lot but this is the mild part. she’s waiting, she knows what happens next— the queen comes to her and saves her but it doesn’t help either of them. she knows this and expects it.

but no one comes. her body is sinking lower and lower into the endless sea, and it’s getting darker and darker and the amount of weight of water increases more and more until she feels it flooding her body, filling in every crevice and invading her mind. she tries to move, maybe even open her mouth and scream out for help but her body is stiff, like she’s already accepted this is it. and maybe she has— “riri,” maybe it’s better this way, maybe the queen got out and the real problem was just her and everyone knew she was just dead weight, her stupid fucking extra credit, “riri!” maybe she was left behind for a reason, maybe—

“riri!”

and she opens her eyes, gasping and sitting up, clutching at the t-shirt on her chest, eyes wet and mind reeling. she breathes hard and looks around, this wasn’t her dorm, where was she—?

“ri—” shuri’s voice stirs her, hand on her shoulder and she locks eyes with her confused and still breathing hard, “riri, you were— you were crying, and you wouldn’t wake up, what happened? are you alright?” and shuri’s holding her steady, hands on her shoulders and waiting for a response as riri breathes. she can’t speak just yet, she needs to feel something, she needs something between her fingers.

shuri sees riri’s hands picking at the sheets and picks them up in one of hers, holding them tight and bringing her back down. she’s uses the other hand to pull riri in her chest and keeps her there, holding riri’s two hands in one of hers. shuri shushes her, whispering as riri blinks away her nightmare.

shuris hand in hers calms her. she squeezes, once then twice and shuri repeats the motion. it settles her heart, and she breathes slower and slower as time passes. once it’s finally over, riri hides away in shuri’s chest, eyes wet and full and mumbles out, “i’m sorry,”

and shuri gapes at her, no tension or anger in her voice but all confusion, “for what?” and riri sniffles, still hiding, “for.. for scaring you, i guess,”

shuri sighs, “you had a panic attack, you shouldn’t apologize love,” and she says it like it’s a simple understanding and riri nods like she gets it but it doesn’t matter, she still feels sorry and completely useless, like some type of anchor shuri has to carry around now.

shuri speaks again, “can you… can you tell me what you were dreaming about?” and it’s said softly, shuri knowing she’s treading in the water that riri was both afraid of and never wanting to cross. she shakes her head in shuri’s chest and shuri sighs again, “riri, i… i want to help you, my love, please tell me how.” riri’s body heats up with embarrassment. she shakes out of shuri’s embrace and wipes her face, “there’s nothing you need to do,” she whispers harshly, getting up and heading towards the bathroom.

shuri frowns at her in the bed, slightly grabbing her wrist and keeping her there, “what do you mean, ‘need to’? i want to help, you just had a panic attack in your sleep so im worried—” riri cuts her off with a jolt of her shoulders, “don’t. shuri, stop it,” shuri’s eyebrows lower and riri avoids eye contact, trying to keep all the tears and word vomit in her head. her thoughts are begin, see? all you do is stress her out, every since you met it’s completely useless in telling her, you’d just cause more trouble, “look, just.. just let it go okay?” she whispers once her thoughts get too loud, and she means it literally, but her subconscious knows she means it over all too; she wants shuri to let her go, to stop worrying and keeping her around its so fucking useless—

“no.” her girlfriend replies, standing and moving riri around to look at her, “i don’t know who’s told you what, but i want to help you, love, i won’t let it go. you’re my girlfriend and i love you, so please, tell me.” and it’s a hushed promise in the night that has riri blinking away tears more and more before she can’t do it. her entire chest feels like the world is on top of it, she can feel every breath she takes spiking her lungs and it’s torture. some tears spill while she’s looking everywhere but shuri’s face, but a gentle hand guides her back to it, shuri looking at her with encouraging and loving eyes, and riri breaks.

her whole body heaves in, eyes spilling over and she falls forward, shuri enveloping her with ease and love, holding her steady as riri just sobs. it’s completely ugly and loud and embarrassing but she can finally let it go, and shuri doesn’t say a thing, she hold riri tight, not tight enough to restrict her lungs— as riri’s breathing heavy and hard— but tight enough to let riri know she’s right there.

and riri accepts it; squeezing at shuri’s back and holding her tighter than she’s ever held her before, her eyes stinging and lungs burning as she sobs quietly. “i’m— im so sorry, i’m such a fucking idiot, i’m sorry—” riri’s mumbling out, and shuri pulls away, wiping her face, shaking her head, “no, you have nothing to apologize for, my love, it’s fine—”

and for cuts her off, shaking her head and still holding on to her hands, “no, no it’s not fine, i— i hurt you, and your family, and your mom— fuck, it’s all my fault, my stupid fucking project, the only reason namor was here was because of me, shuri, it is my fault, i— i’m sorry,”

and shuri gasps a bit, finally understanding. riri had felt like she was the reason for all of this— her mom, the city, the war they had, shuri becoming the black panther in the first place. she had been struggling with this guilt all this time and didn’t even say anything. shuri’s heart broke, how could she not have know? she blinks, there’s not time to feel sorry for herself, she thinks and gathers herself, still wiping riri’s tears and holding her close. “riri,” she whispers softly and riri hiccups and sobs, before breathing steady and look at her, eyes red and body still shaking.

shuri smiles sadly at her, “i know how you feel,” she says and riri frowns, not understanding. shuri continues, “i know the guilt and blame you feel for not doing something sooner, for not knowing earlier. i know, my love. if i had known my brother was sick, i would have saved him,” she whispers the last part to riri alone and riri’s eyebrows raise a bit, eyes burning. shuri’s eyes fill a bit, “but i did the best i could with what information i had. i tried, love. i tried so hard. and you did too. you are, in fact, trying so hard to make it right, correct?”

riri starts to retort but shuri doesn’t let her get it out, “you are,” she answers for her, “immediately after what namor had done to you, to my mother, you helped me make my suit. you helped us develop the heat devices to dry him out, yes? you helped me because you wanted to, because you wanted to try and make it right,” riri starts to shake her head, to retort and not accept shuri’s reasoning but shuri keeps her still.

“you have nothing to feel guilty over,” she whispers, looking deep into her eyes, trying to convey the best she could. riri blinks, eyes still leaking and a small smile forms on her lips, “yeah?” she says softly and shuri nods again, smiling back, “i promise,” and riri actually, truly believes her.

riri sleeps all throughout the entire night after shuri wipes her faces and kisses her over and over again. she doesn’t dream, her mind just feels like it’s floating in a spacious peace for the night.

when she wakes up, it’s the first time she feels rested. riri doesn’t have the angst she normally does in her heart, and she doesn’t immediately start pulling at her sheets. she blinks a bit, fixing her scarf and sitting up, realizing she’s alone. she looks down at her wrist, “griot, where’s shuri?”

and it speaks, “with the queen. she appears to have woken up,” and riri’s body moves before she can think. she’s awake, she’s awake, i have to see her, thank her, her mind is reeling, brushing her teeth as fast as she can, and rushing out of the door. she gets to the queens room fast, the large golden doors starting back at her. riri’s hand shakes as she lifts it to knock, fingers tingling and she taps twice.

before shuri comes to the door, riri breaths in and out, calming herself. shuri opens the door, eyes wet and smile bright, “good morning,” and riri smiles, “hi,” she says softly, just looking past her. shuri laughs a bit, “oh right, you’re not here to see me, mother you’ve got riri more than i do, i can’t believe it,” and shuri’s joking and riri hears it, a soft, quiet laugh from queen ramonda as shuri steps aside, revealing the queen.

riri’s heart almost breaks, she still looks so sweet, smiling and eyes low and obviously still waking up. she sat up, her hair in small twists and oiled, something she knew shuri would take the time to do. riri’s eyes nearly fill in seconds as she walks forward stuttering, “i’m— im sorry, and thank you, i’m so happy you’re awake, i’m so sorry, i—” and queen ramonda waves her hand, shaking her head, “child, you are safe. that is all i wanted, and you see? i am fine, stop saying sorry,”

and riri feels the way she did last night, ramonda felt like she was the last word, when she’s finally at her bed, ramonda takes riri’s hands in hers, pulling her close. and riri leans in, blinking and crying softly, “you make my daughter so happy, riri. and i knew she’d have someone to look after her, if not me,” and riri nods, wiping her eyes and smiling and shuri pipes in, “you never told me that, did you know riri and i were dating before then? because we werent,” she says looking at the both of them, sitting at the edge of the bed.

“ah, a mother always knows,” she smiles out and riri bites her lip, “that’s… that’s okay, right? like do i need your permission or anything?” and she means it honestly and ramonda laughs, “no, you’re both grown, shuri knows what she wants and i’m sure you do too. no need to ask for anything my love, you have a home here,” and riri nods, smacking her lips once she hears shuri mumble, “i said that too,”

the rest of the morning is spent talking. ramonda tells shuri of the dreams she had. how she spent time with her husband and saw her brother in law. t’challa had visited her a couple of times as well and shuri would tear up and squeeze her hand. the three of them talked for hours, well into the afternoon, and griot had to alert one of the scientists to bring the three of them lunch, as they hadn’t even eaten.

ramonda was up and moving after her second check in during the midday, smiling and laughing as her legs wobbled a bit as she got used to walking again, shuri there all the way helping her. it made riri happy, some of the guilt she still felt in the back of her brain fogged away with joy and forgiveness, finally happy and clear minded.

and shuri was next to her and ramonda the whole time, holding her hand when riri wasn’t sure if she should ask a question and encouraging her to talk. ramonda did the same, listening sweetly and nodding along as riri spoke, cooing her and coaxing her to open up about her nightmares and she always reassured her, “i would have saved you in every lifetime, you should not feel guilty about that,” and riri always smiles, playing with her hands that eventually become shuri’s instead.

the day ends quickly, doctors and scientists aided queen ramonda to her actual room, shuri helping her there. riri stays behind a bit, watching softly before ramonda turns to her, “you take care of yourself, alright?” and riri feels her eyes weld up again and nods, shuri smiling at her.

riri walks to shuri’s bedroom lightheaded. she plays with her kimiyo beads, this time not anxious but just pleasantly bubbly. she giggles a bit when she sits back down on the bed. she’d normally dread this part of the day, heart heavy and brain nervous about going to sleep but she just feels… content.

shuri comes in a moment later while riri’s deep in thought. “hey, are you alright?” and riri smiles and walks to her, opening her arms and pulling her into a deep hug, smiling hard into her neck. shuri of course accepts it, pulling her close and laughing a bit, “what?” shuri whispers and riri pulls back to look at her, feeling all the love in the world.

she shrugs a bit shy, “just… thank you, i guess. and i’m sorry i didn’t say anything, again, i was just—” shuri shakes her head, “it’s fine, i’m just happy you’re feeling better now, right? nothing else you want to say?” and riri shakes her head, tilting up to connect their mouths.

shuri accepts it quietly, holding her close and sighing into her mouth. shuri rubs up and down her back, and riri moans a bit, feeling shuri’s mouth overcome hers and it’s an amazing feeling, she pulls shuri closer to get more of it. riri’s head reels, suddenly light and fogged, shuri overcoming all of her senses.

riri pulls away first after she feels herself through her underwear, “sorry,” she whispers and looks at how wet shuri’s lips are, body hot. “for what?” shuri says back and riri shys up again, “i don’t know, we’ve never.. yknow done that, so i didn’t wanna push your boundaries,” she says and shuri’s eyebrows raise a bit, pulling riri close, “okay, well what are you comfortable with?” and riri sways a bit, biting her lip and glancing away, “i mean, whatever you’re comfortable with,”

shuri laughs a bit, “okay.. what do you want to do?” shuri emphasizes and pulls riri closer, mouths ghosting over each other, and riri flirts back, “what you wanna do,” she whispers against her mouth, them sliding against each other once more. riri moans a bit louder now, opening her mouth and leaning forward, running her fingers against shuri’s curls. shuri groans a bit when she feels riri tug and it causes riri to smile against her mouth.

they had talked about it, of course. sex wasn’t a conversation either of them strayed from, and they both agreed it’d be best to do it when they had the time and had the mind space for it, as they both took sexual intimacy very seriously. so, it doesn’t surprise riri at all that the time for it was when she finally clears her mind of all the anxieties she had been plagued with.

shuri leads them both to the bed, toppling over riri laughing all the way when they fall and disconnect for a bit. riri’s still in shuri’s pajamas, then just a bit long for her and shuri uses it to her advantage; pulling away from her mouth and kissing at her neck, a place she so rarely is. riri gasps against her, pulling at her curls again, feeling shuri groan against the small space between her ear and neck. it causes her to smile, “you like when i pull your hair?” she whispers,sultry, and shuri pulls away to look at her, pupils blown wide and lips wet, “i like when you do everything,” she says, honest and breathless and riri tries to stop her legs from crossing to hide her arousal. “yeah?” riri asks and shuri nods, sliding her hands underneath her night shirt, riri’s hot stomach connecting with her cold hands.

riri arches into the touch, sighing, and still holding onto shuri’s neck, “yes,” she speaks again, leaning down to kiss riri’s exposed skin. “i like when you’re honest with me,” she mumbles against her chest, pulling the shirt off, exposing her breasts, nipples up and waiting. shuri licks her mouth at the sight of her, “i like when your body is honest with me,” she sighs out, dazed, trailing her hands up to squeeze the skin between her fingers, riri gasping out a moan and closing her eyes and holding on to shuri’s wrists as they play with her.

shuri leans down more, kissing against her, “i love when you tell me what you want,” she says, moving everywhere but where riri needs her. she gets the hint quickly, “please put your mouth on me, shuri,” riri sighs out, eyes glossed over and looking deep into shuri’s. she nods, more for herself, and sucks on riri’s nipples, playing with the other in her hand.

riri sigh and tugs at shuri’s hair again, who groans and bites at riri’s nipples; riri bucking and moaning at the aggression. shuri pulls away, “was that okay?” and riri nods, breathless, “yeah, feels good..” she whispers and shuri nods, sucking on her skin once more, hands traveling lower and lower to slide riri out of her pajama bottoms. riri lifts her hips up to help, her underwear hot and wet between shuri’s wondering fingers. she tries to close them but shuri keeps one hand on riri’s thigh to keep them open, the other sliding up and down her underwear and her mouth still working on her nipples.

riri moans, “shuri… please,” and shuri nearly moans at the sound of riri’s begs. she nods, pulling away from her nipple with a wet pop, and completely focusing all her attention on her pussy, pulling her underwear down with a swift movement. riri’s practically leaking, shuri finds, her clit pulsing softly as she feels herself get stared at. riri moves her legs shyly, “shuri, don’t just stare,” she jokes but shuri takes it seriously, rubbing up and down her legs and looking at her with mesmerized eyes, “you’re so beautiful, nkosazana, i can’t help it, ” she whispers, kissing at riri’s legs and sliding her hands against her thighs. “so gorgeous,” she whispers into riri’s skin.

riri shuts her eyes tightly, the sight of shuri between her legs proving too much for her to handle. shuri kisses at her thighs and the crevices between them and her pussy, riri bucking against her to get some friction where she needs it. shuri takes the hint, kissing riri’s clit and making her gasp out a moan, hands between the sheets and the other attempting to cover her mouth and lessen her moans. but shuri’s mouth works on her likes she’s had riri before, like she’s done this a thousand times. shuri licks at her clit, sucking softly and using some of her panther strength to keep riri’s legs apart. riri moans, back lifting and hands gripping the sheets, “fuckkkk—!” leaves her mouth, eyes shut and eyebrows furrowed in pleasure.

and shuri smiles against her, sucking hard and sliding her fingers past riri’s entrance, one finger being able to push in because of how wet riri was. riri feels it, whining and sighing as shuri fingers her way in deeper, making room for the second finger and pushing through with ease. riri feels her clit begin to pulse under shuri’s tongue, skin prickling and pussy leaking, and it makes her gasp out wetly, “i’m— oh fuck, i’m cumming, shuri, shuri, i’m gonna cum,” and she lifts her hips to practically fuck on shuri’s face, who takes it all, moaning against her still keeping one hand on riri’s thighs to hold her open. riri’s eyes roll back and she tried to let out one more warning but she feels it, riri’s orgasm runs a marathon through her body, pussy leaking into shuri’s fingers and clit pulsing under shuri’s tongue, who doesn’t let up— she sucks and pulls on the uncovered bud, fingers still working diligently inside riri and riri groans, deep gasps leaving her mouth as she tries to move away in overstimulation.

shuri pulls away, sighing, removing her fingers and licking at her lips. riri’s body falls, exhausted and overworked as she comes down from her orgasm. shuri kisses on her thighs, moving her cum soaked fingers against her skin and riri finds her hand, holding it and squeezing. shuri kisses her way up to riri’s mouth, kissing her deeply and putting cum on riri’s lips. riri sighs and pulling her deeper in her available hand, the other letting go of shuri’s and put in her coils. shuri moans once her hand reaches there and she pulls away, “what else do you want, my love?” and she means it sincerely, kissing at her cheeks when she asks the question.

riri giggles, and asks sincerely, “you wanna fuck me?” and shuri gapes at her, laughing, “so explicit! Bast, you could have said that any other way,” she laughs out and stands, walking towards her closet, sliding off her own shorts. riri sits up, mind a bit fuzzy from her orgasm, “what i’m hearing and seeing, is a yes,” she jokes and sees shuri reach for her strap, shaking her head, “i suppose so since you asked ever-so sweetly,” and riri smiles, pulling shuri into a kiss when she comes back.

shuri kisses at riri’s mouth, moving around to find some lube before adjusting her boxers. riri disconnects their lips and watches as shuri moves around the strap. shuri leans down with her, still wanting to be connected and riri can’t help but smile against shuri’s lips, so happy to finally have a clear head and tended heart. shuri pulls away to look at her girlfriend, “what?” she asks sincerely and riri giggles, sighing and opening her legs once shuri touches her thighs and coaxing them open, “i’m just happy. i love you,” she mumbles back and shuri smiles, flashing a glance at her dick against riri’s pussy, then back at her eyes, leaning down once she’s completely lined up, “i love you too,” she whispers back and pushes, riri sighing and whining against shuri’s mouth.

shuri moves slowly against riri, bodies close and touching after shuri’s finally all the way inside riri, who’s gasping against shuri’s lips, “oh, fuckkkkk—” she moans out and shuri smiles a bit, kissing at her cheeks and riri’s hand finds hers, holding it and squeezing. she doesn’t move until riri nods, “move, please, baby,” she whispers and shuri nods, pulling out and pushing back in with a soft thrust. riri gasp, clinging to her forearms and groaning, shuri kissing at her neck again as she thrusts.

she whispers in riri’s ears, “does that feel good, love?” and riri nods and moans, unashamed and holding on. shuri leans up, angling herself at a different position and holding on to her waist and thrusting harder, lifting riri’s thighs a bit to get to her g-spot.

riri groans out, “fuck, fuck, fuck me right there shuri, please— unffffuckk—!” and riri’s body lifts, her thighs shaking under shuri’s touch and she sighs, holding on to them, “you gonna cum, my love?” she whispers and riri nods, eyes seared shut and small tears forming, “yeah, yeah, i’m gonna cum, fuck, make me cum shuri please, please— haaaa, im cumming, baby,—!” she gasps out and her body twitching and her hands ripping the sheets as she cums, pussy squeezing around shuri and her thighs still shaking. shuri’s thrusts come to a halt as riri finishes, shuri leaning down and kissing her, soothing over her thighs and slowly pulling out.

riri moans softly, accepting shuri’s kiss with a tired mouth and a fogged mind. shuri shuffles out of the boxers, sliding the strap away and pulling off of riri’s mouth, “do you need anything love?” and riri blinks up at her dazed and fucked out, shaking her head. shuri laughs a bit, kissing her deeply again before getting up to grab a towel and another shirt for riri to sleep in.

riri lays on shuri’s bed complacent and weak, body finally coming back to life after a while of rest. shuri comes back and kisses her again, helping her sit up and holding her, riri sighing into shuri’s mouth and wrapping her arms around her. she smiles against her mouth, kissing back softly. shuri pulls away first, “i love you,” she says again and riri says it back, eyes closed and heart full.

when riri wakes up, shuri is next to her. she feels light, her body is sore from the night before but all in all she feels amazing, like all the guilt and angst she felt had slipped away into the night.

shuri is still sleeping, breathing deep and her coils popping out her bonnet. riri giggles at the sight, tucking the stray ones in and leaning up to kiss her. shuri wakes up after the fourth kiss, sliding her hands against riris back and keeping her there, sighing into the kiss and moving along with her mouth.

she pulls away, “good morning, sthandwa, how did you sleep?”

and riri smiles, knowing she can finally and honestly say, “good.”

i love shuriri never forget it!! they make me so INSANE IM LOSING BRAIN CELLS OVER THEM i better see 5k edits of shuri and riri on tik tok in february 1st 00:01 EXACTLY!!

anways i hope you guys enjoyed. this story was very dear to me and it means a lot to talk and work through these serious topics with my favorite characters, give them the happiest of endings they deserve!! also the song above just led me to write it, it’s not actually important to the story but it’s a gorgeous song regardless

okay bye!! reblogs and replies are ALWAYS appreciated mwah mwah ❣️

[sevensoulmates]

what do you think these interviews confirm for buddie, does this confirm buddie is coming?

I'll say what I said earlier to some friends:

Right now is Schrodinger's Buddie.

Which in layman's terms means: Right now in the two days before the season airs, two truths exist at once. That being: canon buddie and non-canon buddie. And we won't know the real truth until the show airs.

So, anon, my opinion is that I want and hope this spells good things for future canon romantic buddie. I think all of this is a step in a positive direction. ((I never put too much stock in articles or press or what the actors say, but I digress)) This is the most hope about canon buddie I've had in a while. I think it appears as if ABC and Tim & Co are trying really hard to get and KEEP (being the key word here) a new audience. I know a lot of people like to say that we (fandom) aren't their core audience, that the general public is, but I've seen this argument time and time again in the BTS fandom that disproves this strategy. So I will say it now:

A dedicated, long-lasting, ride-or-die, loyal fandom will ALWAYS be more important than the approval of the general audience.

The general audience will watch the episode once, form their opinion on it, and then go watch something else regardless. They *might* rewatch a couple episodes when a new season airs. They are not the ones out here streaming each episode over and over meticulously during off seasons earning the show and the networks all their money when the show isn't actively airing. They're not the ones supporting every little side-launch, or keeping the name trending, or keeping conversation relevant, the ones willing to buy merch, the ones willing to spread the word, the ones actively converting other people into die-hard fans. The general audience will not be the people in 10, 20, 30 years rewatching all the episodes for the love it, or keeping a dedicated fanbase active and alive and creating works decades later. Fandoms do. And what does this fandom want?

Overwhelmingly, the fandom wants buddie. In my opinion, going through with romantic buddie is the best thing ABC could do to get and keep a brand new audience and secure the forever-loyalty of their returning audience.

The network wants a return on their investment, but the truth of it, is that they won't get that return on investment unless they actually prove to their audience that they're not just investing in giving the show cooler effects, or larger emergencies, or nicer sets, or more expensive production, or flashy advertisement. The real investment needs to be in the characters. In getting these characters where they need to go. The only way to satisfy your audience and to get them to keep coming back for more is to satisfy the character arcs they've set up over the last six years, and create new arcs that will keep audiences invested for years to come (like ABC so obviously wants).

I've also heard the argument that most people only come to the show for the flashy emergencies. And I get it, but at the same time, any show could create fun/crazy/bombastic emergencies. The thrill-seekers will always chase the craziness that can be replicated in any other random show and for them it's easy to drop 911 and move on if they want thrills.

What keeps people so heavily invested in this show, in 911 in particular, is the characters and their relationships with each other. Character will always ALWAYS be the most important thing to any piece of fictional media. Not the plot, not the emergencies, not the setting, not the effects, etc. Characters are how we as humans create connection. If they lose that connection, that will reflect in viewership, numbers, money, etc.

In my humble opinion, and the opinion of a lot of people who watch this show (even the silent general audience or people who don't ship buddie romantically, or the people who like buddie but think it will never happen so they just shit on it) the person who Eddie and Buck belong with (in whatever way you define it) is with each other.

This isn't something the fandom came up with, this isn't built on the back of fanon. All of this stems 100% from the show itself, so why wouldn't they want to execute to the fullest the story they've so clearly been telling the whole time?

This is just a long-winded way of saying, I, a humble tumblr user with zero connection to the show or its decision makers, don't know if this means buddie canon or not. But I will always remain hopeful until the show airs its last episode, because buddie makes sense on literally every level.

[ms-all-sunday]

its not actually a bad thing that oda only depicts women he finds attractive because as far as the content of the personalities of women he finds attractive he has amazing taste. he just really needs to diversify how he draws them visually.

i am insulted generally when people dont acknowledge that the visual designs and the personalities of women he depicts come from the same place. (i think it says more about you than you think when you say "i cant believe oda would want to design (insert female character) as attractive!") while on face value this is contradictory because oda does like to play with the idea of feminism repeatedly in his work to various degrees and various amounts of success and failure if you think about it from his perspective it is absolutely not. and in general i would say that the depiction of nami and robin as attractive is a good thing (because of their personalities and because the reasons they are framed as attractive have substance. i think nami speaks for herself here)

it's just that he draws them as overly conventionally attractive and that it gives off the impression they need to be conventionally attractive to have the substantial framing of their unconventional traits as attractive in the first place.

every woman in one piece gets this treatment. (which is bad, obviously, but it does come from logic that makes sense.)

at worst though it gives off the impression that even women with personalities outside of what the patriarchy deems palatable need to be conventionally attractive to have substance or weight.

im a big advocate for namis design as a design i think is good for her specifically but I can argue for a more unconventional design (making her fat for example) and i will do so now.

I think what's lost in Nami's design is nami is constantly playing with what is acceptable for a woman and what isn't, the juxtaposition in her personality is a key component of her character, which is lost in her design. she just appears as a "normal girl character" and looses the tension that makes her so compelling. one can argue namis design is too conventional and that she wouldn't adhere this closely to what is expected of her, visually. she doesn't need to be this conventionally attractive, as the core competent of her design that conveys important elements of her character is her femininity, not her conventional attractiveness. it doesn't actually matter if she's conventionally attractive or not, because what she subverts is the expectations of women, femininity and how hyper-femininity is perceived within the context of the norm. none of that requires her to be conventionally attractive, and I think in the beginning her design aimed to juxtapose and create tension in the way I'm thinking here (her early early designs, pre ts base design) but that over time became more and more feminine and so the tension was lost. but if she were fat for example, the tension wouldn't have been lost at all. even in her post ts design, where she remains ultra feminine making her fat gives back the tension between conventional and unconventional in her design, as well as having her visually take up more space, indicative of her personality. she's not afraid to take up space.

I would go into how robins design is bullshit now but robins design is just pretty obviously bullshit there's no argument to be made over whether it'd be better with a different body type it just would.

[drgamenstein]

So, going back to some of my older posts about character and setting TTRPGs let's talk about Vampire: the Masquerade. Here's real quick, a fun or stupid way to play each of the 13 clans. First though, if anyone somehow finds this who isn't familiar with the VtM lore, I'll offer a bastardized version of the disclaimer the core rulebook does; there's no such thing as a morally good PC in this game, you're going to be playing as a killer, stalker, monster, however you want to put it. Vampires are monstrous reflections of humanity, and as such can emphasize certain traits that are seen as distasteful or wrong. This isn't an excuse to be an overt and openly bigoted asshole at the table, and no GM or player should ever tolerate real world hate speech at the table when speaking OoC. We cool? Cool.

Ventrue: a new age shop owner, who sells homemade essential oils, skin care products and crystals that mark potential targets for siring based on the virtues each clan upholds. They're cursed blood makes them obsessed with very specific scents, meaning they can't feed on someone unless they're wearing something that makes them smell appealing.

Toreador: a plastic surgeon, who's idea of beauty is the imperfection of the human form. They run a budget clinic and are able to avoid losing their license due to malpractice, because they have a close personal bond with the Nosferatu, and love to skincraft them into an appearance that while still leaving them deformed, could pass as injuries or illnesses, making them less likely to violate the Masquerade. These favors give them connections to blackmail and extort anyone, enough that they can hire a Ventrue lawyer to protect them.

Gangrel: a Pational Park Ranger, who may or may not have connections to many, MANY missing 411 cases. They hold a position of neutrality between almost every faction, by upholding the laws of the Camarilla, by keeping the masquerade intact, while simultaniously cultivating their own open-air human meat restaurant. A safe place for werewolves, and other kindred to engage in their most animalistic urges, without fear of leaving evidence behind.

Malkavian: an autistic dark web information broker, that somehow knows what their customers want long before they even make contact. They have a habit of logging every email, password or other piece of identifying information that pops into their head. Breaking the fourth wall, the player could improve this by listening to business, economics or true crime podcasts during sessions, and talking as if it's a conversation they're having to what's going on at that point in game.

Tremere: a character who wants to form their own autonomous enclave, separate from any form of government be it human or kindred based. This wilderness commune is under constant surveillance by several human law enforcement agencies, and is publicly recognized as a cult, though they are petitioning to be recognized as a religion. They sire high ranking members of their organization, only after several years of indoctrination, at which point the Frog has boiled over and been reduced to a fine broth. The appeal of the cult to outsiders are the opportunity for travel, under the guise of medical and disaster relief efforts. All members are also frequently asked to donate blood for "those in need." Internally they don't believe in any religion, the player could make the argument that Kain wasn't cursed by God, but instead was the first evolutionary offshoot from mankind, and they internally view each vampire clan as related in much the same way as humans are related to other apes. This internalized vampirism racism while a massive negative trait, is effectively used by studying each and every clan solely for the purpose of learning how best to manipulate them.

Bruja: (this one's shorter than all the rest) During life they were a decorated cold war era military veteran, who was honorably discharged with injuries after certain government experiments. After their siring they have dedicated their un-life to spreading good old fashioned western values to the oppressed and impoverished parts of the world as a PMC.

Nosferatu: since almost every nosferatu have the same MO, preferred hiding spots and methods of travel, I think this clan is best defined by they're personality and view of the world. The owner of an Incel forum, who uses it both to unironically post their own thoughts and feelings, but to gather info from their users about all the Chads and Staceys in need of some punishment for their arrogance. They also frequently browse social media, and may or may not be responsible for at least a few throwaway accounts responsible for doxxing public figures. They are an absolute bitch for drama, and spend their downtime binging tea channels and Beauty-tubers but can't see the irony of this hobby.

Lasombre: an old fashioned head of a boston mafia group. He's made a fortune exploiting the working class and extorting the needy for decades, and running a successful shipyard and fishing company. His preferred targets for siring are dock workers, and local gang members that he sees as either beneficial to his criminal empire, or someone that his enemies would hate to lose. He has a unique point of view among most of the kindred, in that he doesn't discriminate among humans, Vampires or oan of the other creatures and organizations around him. They're all of equal value in his eyes, that value being equivalent to a character pip from the Game of Life, meaning tiny l, worthless bits of plastic, that take up space and are only worthy of notice when they directly impact him. His closest friend is actually a human butler, that picks out his clothes, make sure he's in proper order, and takes care of him. He will never sire this friend, as they are fully aware of his true nature and have asked him kindly to not do so. This blatant violation of the masquerade is barely tolerated as an open secret, since covering this particular leak would cause more trouble than just leaving it alone.

Tzimisce: a geneticist, who's network has a hand in every animal centric organization in the world, whether it's pet care, breeding, meat production, pageantry, racing, or law enforcement training, they can somehow be linked to it. They are fascinated by genealogy and genetics, obsessed with the true history of the world and want to prove the lineage of every clan and bloodline, simply for the satisfaction of having that knowledge. They were a successful dog breeder in life and now may or may not be practicing human and clan breeding in secret. They have a strange fascination with the Caitiff, and are regularly observed by many, acting friendly with these undesirables. They have a genuine love for animals, and would never harm any of their precious creatures, but see humans as lower than scum, utterly disgusting parasites hellbent on destroying their precious mother nature. They have no desire to sire an heir, unless eventually forced to do so, have no feelings whatsoever toward the idea of harming humans, seeing their acts as mundane or even justified, and this hatred goes so far that they frequently push themselves to the brink of frenzy just to avoid drinking from these vile creatures. Before their embrace, they had a pet dog that they loved more than anything in the world, but sadly killed during their first frenzy. They keep their friends collar on them at all times, despite the guilt they feel, it's the only thing that gives them comfort and let's them sleep at night.

Hecata: (I thought of this as an experienced player, or storyteller's PC) an elderly person, though not ancient. A member of a long lived and wealthy family dating back possibly to the Methusala. A family man, with an actual family, they sired before their embrace, with the knowledge that they will one day need to make arrangements for their children to be embraced. You take on the role of a mentor figure, teaching them the ways of the kindred, necromancy, and hunting, but are planning to, at the end of their training, have more promising of your spawn, diablerize the other.

Banu Haqim: a vigilante serial killer, think Vampire Punisher, or Dexter. Seeking out rogue kindred who've strayed from their respective code, regardless I'd they're Camarilla, Sabatt, or Anarch. The kindred you hunt are blatant violators of the masquerade and do so without even the little bit of control the Sabatt has over its members. More than anything, they are the biggest threats to kindred society as a whole and expose us all to the threat of human exposure. They are the perfect target for one such as yourself, both as self-proclaimed peacekeepers, and to satiate your own clans curse. It's your solemn duty to ensure that no evidence of kindred society is left behind.

Ravnos: a backpacker, spelunker and base jumper. They are a very popular Social Media personality and travel vlogger that enjoys documenting cave exploration and nighttime adventures into the wilderness. They know all the best tourist spots, what every kind of human blood tastes like, and won't shut the hell up about how they need to take you to Venice to try genuine Venican blood fresh from the source. They have a lot of annoying habits, and frequently humble brag about their enlightened un-life, but are generally good company and easy to get along with. You still wouldn't call them a friend though. They're the type of person that always sleeps over when they visit, but you can never remember them specifically asking if they could crash on your couch.

Ministry: You are a bio-terrorist. After your embrace, you took an interest in medical sciences for all the wrong reasons. Fascinated with your new undeath, and immunity to human illness, you start to question the limits of your new undead body, and decide to push it to new limits, concocting plagues, viruses and diseases and testing them on unsuspecting vampire populations. Occasionally, maybe, sure, some human populations get sick as well, pandemics, happen, and hundreds of thousands die each time you conduct a test, but that's the price of good science.

Caitiff: literally just don't play Caitiff. It's hard to come up with a creative or unique story for this "Clan" since they are effectively nobodies. The best comparison to be made I guess would be that Caitiff are the vampire equivalent of that weird conspiracy theorist who works in retail, has a substance abuse problem and is constantly trying to get you and all his other "work buds" to rise up and unionize against the man, but doesn't have an actual plan or any understanding on how any of that works.

Thin-bloods: Why is this a clan we can pick? Who is picking this one? Don't do it.

[crystallizedkingdoms]

Talk about eleventh hour gn Johann!!!!!!

Oh boy you’re opening fucking Floodgates.

For this post I’m not gonna go too into into the exact details of how Johann’s been neglected by the graphic novel and how that if they don’t rectify this it will extremely flatten the finale as a whole (but I can make that a separate post if it’s wanted), but I Will mention a few things: in the past four books, Johann’s had a total of 15 panels where he makes a prominent appearance— of which he has no deeper characterization other than being… just kind of grumpy? Not cynical with the capacity for goofs like our podcast Johann, with a unique and layered dynamic with the Voidfish; just a musician with an attitude problem with none of the character building, plot important scenes.

This changes with the 11th Hour. We get about 15 new panels with his face in it, and the most amount of lines he’s gotten thus far, and it’s plot important! Finally, we get one of the core tenets of Johann’s character: what happens to his beloved music when he feeds it to the Voidfish, and his fear of dying and being forgotten. Hell, I’d even make the argument that the above panels portray his actual fear and urgency over it better than the podcast. So… problem solved, crisis averted, shut up and be happy Sie, right?

(More under the cut, but tl;dr: graphic novel is severely undercutting Johann’s character by diminishing his relationship with the Voidfish and it’s KILLING ME)

Except, quite frankly, this condensed rectification is seriously not enough. Although it brings up the core concepts of Johann’s strong feelings towards dead members being erased, it very quickly glosses over Johann’s feelings on his music being erased into a simple “…Yes.” Look at how Johann expressed himself in the podcast, in the elevator scene that introduced his character efficiently!

And really, most importantly… we haven’t seen any of his connection with the Voidfish. We don’t get Johann being the one introducing the boys to the Voidfish and the fact he’s the best violinist basically ever. We don’t get scene of Johann and Lucas arguing over who should keep the Voidfish. We get the below scene, of Johann seeing the Voidfish erasing Boyland’s big family, but it neglects a cute little comment he makes when the Boys worry that the process tires the Voidfish out!

And of course, the infamous scene. The scene that doesn’t happen in the graphic novel (in the podcast it happens in the Lunar Interlude before Crystal Kingdom), and arguably one of Johann’s most important scenes outside of the novel. The Voidfish Duet, while providing an invaluable plot clue with EGG BABE, was also a moment of deep connection with Johann and the Voidfish. (Just look at how it’s described guys. this scene is INSANE)

We even get a piece of dialogue where Johann has almost an adverse reaction to the information that the Voidfish does this friendly gesture to Magnus, someone who (in his eyes) is new and has never taken care of the Voidfish in the way he’s done for over a year. Johann clearly has a very strong bond with the Voidfish to have a reaction like this!

This is such an important scene that we haven’t seen yet, and we’re almost at the end! And there is not a lot of space for it to be squeezed into the Suffering Game’s interludes— what with Magnus needing to be alone to communicate with the Voidfish (unless they just. stick Johann in there), and then he fucking Dies in the Reunion Tour interlude (and by then it would be no use to include it, because Magnus already knows EGG BABE by then).

And quite honestly, I have a little less faith that this scene is going to happen. Because we know the Voidfish has already sung to Johann in some capacity— in the little note made on whiteboard back in Rockport. The first two notes of EGG BABE.

This could be retconned, or it could fit into a flashback, or it can still pack a punch if they manage to slip in the Duet somewhere else. But part of the wonder and the shock Johann felt when he connected with the Voidfish in that scene was because it had never been done before, immediately after Magnus had garnered a physical reaction from the animal he’s been caring for for over a year. I don’t think the Duet would pack the same punch as it did because of the separation of these two scenes.

Anyway. Moral of the story, I love Johann Adventurezone with all my heart. Pains me to see his character and his relationship with the Voidfish get sidelined like this, even if it’s for the sake of streamlining the novels. Cant imagine how it might affect the finale (except yes I can and I’m biting fucking METAL thinking abt it). Thanks for coming to my tedtalk.

[nowandajenn]

Blue Christmas- chapter 7 (anger)

Pairing: Chris Evans/OC Kelly

Summary: After almost three years of marriage, everyone would tell you that Chris and his wife Kelly are the most stable, solid couple they know. But behind closed doors, things are tense as they keep trying for a baby, to no avail. When a secret threatens to shake their solid marriage to it’s core, will they be able to pick up the pieces?

Series warnings: angst (like a lot), mentions of infidelity, language, family drama, pregnancy, sexual situations.

Author’s Note: I do not consent to have my content, whether it be this story or anything else of my creation, posted by a third party on any other platform other than right here without my permission. This blog is 18+ and is not intended for minors. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Heed the warnings.

Christmas Day

One day I’ll wake up and I won’t want to immediately feel like I’m going to die. Today is not that day, apparently. 

When I blink my eyes open, the very first thing I see is Dodger’s furry face. He’s laying on the bed next to be with his head on my chest, staring intently at me like he’s been waiting for me to wake up. He does this constantly to Chris and I, and we always find it hilarious. 

“Hi, baby.” I whisper, my voice hoarse from all the crying and the whiskey last night. I’m in our bed and to my immense relief, I’m dressed in a pair of soft sweats and a T shirt, which I have no memory of putting on. 

After we got back here last night, I went straight to the liquor cabinet and poured us both a drink and put on A Muppet Christmas Carol and cried and bitched and ranted about how much of a bitch my mom was, and Chris just kept quiet and let me vent. At some point I remember almost falling asleep on the couch and Chris nudging me awake, and then....nothing. 

I glance over at the nightstand and see that Chris plugged my cell phone in for me to charge overnight and there’s Advil and a gatorade sitting there. I don’t know how much good Advil is going to do since it feels like there’s an elephant sitting on my head, but what the hell. 

After peeing and brushing my teeth and hair to at least appear somewhat human, I make my way to the kitchen and stop in my tracks. Lisa is standing at the stove making what looks and smells like french toast and bacon, and there’s coffee brewing. Chris is sitting at the dining room table (after the debauchery that occurred on top of it a week ago, I’m sincerely hoping that Chris went at it with a ton of Lysol) looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. 

My fight or flight urge kicks in and I’m two paces into going back into the bedroom when I feel something soft but sturdy hit me in the back. 

In a flash, Dodger is at my feet, devouring the croissant that Lisa threw at me. 

“Not so fast. Get in here.” Lisa says. The look on her face and the tone of her voice leaves no room for argument. I turn back around and walk into the kitchen, leaning in to give Lisa a hug. 

“I’m sorry. I should have called.” I say softly. 

“Yeah, you should have. But that’s not why I’m here.”

The food finishes a a few minutes later and I help her plate it up and bring it to the table. Once we’re all seated, Lisa looks from me to Chris. 

“So, who wants to tell me what the hell has been going on the past few weeks?”

“Mom-” Chris starts. 

“No, save it. Something big is going on, and you’ve been lying to me about it. And I know you’re lying because you suck at it. And Scott knows what’s going on because every time I ask him about it, he looks like he’s about to puke. Now here’s what I know: you guys apparently had a fight. Kelly’s been staying with her brother in the city. I can’t get either one of you to tell me anything, which is a HUGE red flag, because neither of you have ever been shy about coming to me about anything. Now what is going on?”

I lace my fingers together and rest my fists under my chin. 

I know this is going to kill Chris. And it’s going to kill Lisa. And it’s going to kill me to have to fucking hear the words come out of his mouth again. And there’s a good possibility that Lisa will kill Chris, or at the very least beat the piss out of him.There’s a whole lot of killing that’s going to happen. 

Chris looks at me with such a profound sadness in his eyes that it nearly breaks my heart. 

“Just tell her. Get it over with.” I say sadly. 

“The reason Kelly hasn’t been here is because......” I watch as his eyes shine with tears and his adams apple bobs up and down in his throat. I close my eyes and try and brace myself for the words that brought my world down a few weeks ago. “I slept with someone. I cheated on her.” Lisa’s jaw drops and she looks to Chris, who’s barely keeping it together and then to me, my jaw clenched tight and my eyes closed. 

Seconds pass without a sound. Then a minute. Then two. 

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

Her gaze swings to me and I can see her eyes brimming with tears. She reaches across the table and grabs my hand, squeezing it tightly. 

“I didn’t want anyone to find out until after the holidays. I didn’t want to ruin anyone’s Christmas.” I say softly. 

I watch Chris swallow thickly. 

“Honey-”

“No. You don’t get to talk right now. You were raised better than this. I raised you to be better than this. I’ve been proud of you you’re entire life, but right now.....right now I’m so disappointed in you I can barely stand it.”

I take my coffee and my plate up to my office on the second floor, not wanting to be there or listen as Lisa lays into Chris. As it is, I can still hear her yelling without hearing what’s being said. 

I knew everything was going to come out sooner or later. I just really wished that it would happen after the holidays. Between the disaster with my family last night, I guess it’s only fair that Chris has his turn. 

There’s a knock on the door as I’m finishing my coffee, and Lisa opens the door a bit, and I can tell that she’s been crying. 

“I don’t even know what to say.” she tells me softly as she takes a seat in the comfy armchair in the room. 

“I don’t know if there’s really anything TO say.” I whisper. 

“Honey, why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you talk to me? You didn’t have to go through this all by yourself.” 

I pull my feet up on my chair and wrap my arms around my knees and look up at her. 

“I could barely begin to process any of it myself. When he told me, I kind of just went on autopilot. I didn’t want to be alone; part of me was afraid of what would happen if I was alone. I knew that if I went to you or Shanna or Carly or any of our friends, it would all come out, and I wasn’t ready for that. I couldn’t stay here with him. So I fled to Connor’s. I kind of trashed the studio, then just shut down. That’s why Scott knows. Connor called him because I physically couldn’t get out of bed for four days. He came to check on me and laid with me for a few hours. I was ashamed. I AM ashamed.”

“Kelly, the only person here who should be ashamed is my son. He didn’t tell me any of the details, and honestly, I don’t want to know. I don’t know what the hell was going on in his head. I am so, so sorry about everything. I just....I can’t believe any of this.”

A thought pops into my head and I turn to her. 

“How did you know I was here?” I ask. 

“I didn’t. I had Scott start on dinner for today, and I came over, determined to get the truth out of Chris once and for all, no matter what. He told me you were here sleeping. He gave me the Cliffs Notes version of what happened at your parents’ last night.” 

I scoff and roll my eyes. “Yeah, it was one for the books. I just couldn’t be around any of them last night. I just wanted to be here, at home.”

“What about now? Where do you want to be now?” Lisa asks. 

“I don’t know. I’m so sorry for all of this happening on Christmas. I hate feeling like the holiday is ruined. I hate that you and Chris are fighting. I hate that Scott and Chris are fighting. I just wish we could have a nice Christmas and just pretend that everything is normal.” I tell her. 

She takes my hands in hers and rubs them, warming them up. 

“If that’s what you want, that’s what we can do. God knows I could wring Chris’ neck right now, but it’s Christmas. If you think you can handle it, and handle everyone, we can do it. I’ll hold everyone off on the questions for today. But you know eventually.....you and Chris are going to have to sit down and talk.”

“I know.”

[modern-harrypotter]

YouTube Channels - Core 9

Harry

Harry’s youtube channel would be surprisingly mundane to what the public assumed. And barren. There’s like 15 videos on his channel.

He makes very Day In the Life and Get Ready With Me styled videos. Simplistic, picture vlogs during the summer months with videos taken during trips. It’s very mundane and quaint. If people want to see him, they have to watch his friends’ videos. He appears mostly in Hermione’s or Ginny’s videos, and a few in Draco’s. At least his “private” account, which is more BTS styled videos for the Chimera YouTube. On his more mainstream account that the wizarding public see, there’s more social justice style commentary. Hermione appears in a lot of those as a fact check and to also get her voice out there. His most famous video is called “My Thoughts on Being the Boy Who Lived”. It’s an hour long. People who watch it are greeted with a black screen for 59 minutes before it opens to a Zoom call of Ron laughing before the rest of his friends join in and the video ends with Draco threatening to hex people who keep prying into Harry’s life.

Hermione

Hermione is very education based. She has weekly deep dives into subjects that she finds fascinating. Pulls a lot of sources for her videos and gives her own spin. Very educational. She enjoys making study guide videos for classes as well as Tips and Tricks videos to help other students who may need pointers to study. If there’s a class at Hogwarts, Hermione has probably made a video about it. Or several. She does a monthly book review, filled with everything she has read- from scientific journals to cheesy romance. She rates them on whether she would reread them, but the list is very subjective to tastes.

She often appears in make-up or hair styling videos with Pansy, or if her other friends want her as a “google” source. The longest video she was in was with Draco about the specifications about potion making and whether the rules are more of a guideline or actual things that need to be listened to. There is an hour long, complex argument included that most viewers who don’t care about potions will skip over but plenty of potion masters would enjoy.

Ron

Ron’s content is far and few between. Much like Harry, he is found in other videos. Videos he does make are about quidditch, his boyfriends or chess. He talks about quidditch in broad terms and often analyzes videos of quidditch matches, finding flaws in plans and offering improvements on how to better strategize gaining points with a quaffle before grabbing the snitch. Oliver Wood has called many a time to lament how much he wishes Ron was on the team when he attended Hogwarts.

It is not uncommon for him to found in Ginny, Hermione or Neville’s videos. Usually in the background or contributing, but his quick wit and humour is sometimes the spotlight. When making a video with Hermione, he acts as a great metric for what most witches and wizards can understand and usually decodes most of what Hermione says.

Draco

Despite his best wishes, Draco’s channel is chock full of charms and potions videos. He is most passionate about charms and likes to make explanatory videos on how to best perform charms or make enhancements to charms. He has made a few campy, early 2014 styled vlogs with his friends such as “The Boyfriend Tag” “Best Friend Tag” etc.

He doesn’t really appear in other videos. He chimes in a bit on Ron’s quidditch videos or Harry’s day to day lifestyle ones.

Pansy

This fashionista has one of the most active YouTube pages. She does monthly shopping videos, and hauls. She does some DYI for upcycling old pieces to make a new one. She specializes in her make-up get ready with me videos though. Like most beauty youtubers she sits down and just does full faces and talks for 20 minutes. She does reviews on products sent to her and expressed continuing that after Hogwarts.

She hosts a lot of collabs, mainly doing Hermione’s make-up or styling unique pieces for Luna. She is also found in a lot of Harry’s main account videos or even on Millie and Daphne’s joint channel doing challenge videos.

Blaise

Besides Harry, Blaise has one of the most inactive channels. He does travel vlogs over the summer and had a small series of italian videos when he first started but he prefers to keep his private life, private. He doesn’t appear in a lot of other videos either, if only in the background.

Neville

Herbology videos. This man loves herbology and he will go on hour long tangents about plants. He runs projects in the greenhouses and spends his videos talking about plants and their uses, whether medicinally or in potions. This boy just talks about plants. He also discusses ecology and music but the main focus is plants.

Neville appears in a lot of other videos, especially when Hermione makes Herbology videos. Ron is also there to decode the technical terms.

Ginny

Quidditch, quidditch and quidditch. This jock adores quidditch. She reviews a lot of Top 10 videos analyzing quidditch plays and games. She brings Ron and Harry on a lot to also talk sports.

Ginny is found in a ton of Luna’s videos, or Harry’s videos as well. She has the most collabs though, bringing other Quidditch players on to watch the plays and analyze them for how easy the moves would be to replicate.

Luna

Luna’s channel is full of art and jewelry videos. She also does Tarot readings to several of her friends. She does a lot of social commentary on mental health topics during her videos as well. Some people have clicked on a Luna Lovegood video expecting a easy to listen to speed art video, and gets sucked into understanding how demonizing mental health only worsens the problem at hand, and tips to make life a little less overwhelming for those with sensitivity disorders.

Luna doesn’t collaborate with many people except Ginny or Draco. She doesn’t appear in many videos except her own.

[subconsciousmysteries]

Taylor Swift is a 2 (and some information on type 3)

I am once again making this post about this topic. Truly am I crazy? Am I the only one who can't see Taylor Swift as a 3? There's like a cult for the case that she's a 3... really people what am I missing? I've only seen the arguments "she's image focused" and "she's ambitious about her career." The first thing is something that could apply to the whole image triad. The second thing means that every world famous artist who worked hard for their spot is a 3.

The case for Taylor being a 2 is self evident, the case for her not being a 3 is that she doesn't brag or gloat, she doesn't talk about career in her music, she doesn't talk about success and fearing failure, and she doesn't make the drama and conflict in her art impersonal. These are the things that you will see if you're looking at the art of a core 3. If you don't see at least one of these things it's probably not a core 3.

If you're wondering what I mean by "making the art impersonal" look at Lady Gaga, who sings about a lot of love dramas that aren't her own life. Alejandro and Telephone are the best examples. When listening to any Lady Gaga song, and when watching any Lady Gaga music video, I never get the feeling that I'm listening to a piece of Lady Gaga's life story. I feel like I'm watching an opera where she's the director, the writer and lead actress. That's what making it impersonal means. Compare that to Taylor Swift who always sings about her own relationships and experiences.

To see 3s, look at the rap genre (save for emorap) where they brag obnoxiously about how they're better than the other rappers and that's the whole song. See superego 3s (31x and 36x), like Marina. Superego 3s are less braggy and rude to others than the id and withdrawn 3s, but they still don't sing about their relationships and boys they broke up with. they sing about themselves and their career and their success and their fears of failure and the way they approach love coldly like a game (Lady Gaga does this too, see Lovegame and Paparazzi). 3s like Lady Gaga sing about dramatic plays. 3s are often into drama, into putting on costumes and playing roles that clearly aren't them, because it's a healthy way to engage in their vice of Deceit. Acting and drama is a way for 3s to engage in the emotional, people-based nature of the heart triad without being too personalized and vulnerable about it.

3 cores find the personal relationship drama to be embarrassing to talk about. 3-wings and 3 fixes might talk about it a lot in their music; 3 cores will avoid discussing it publicly. 3 cores have a strong "the show must go on" attitude, stronger than any other type except for maybe 7. 3s are the most self-conscious type when it comes to appearing emotionally soft and fixated on their past. Their goal is to speak to everybody and be influential to everybody (this is what "success" ultimately is, isn't it?), so if they absolutely must whine about their personal life wounds publicly, they will try to make it impersonal and turn it into some broader public issue. 3s will never, ever project the image of a self-absorbed, whiny princess fixated on their own personal drama, at least not by their own will -- to be seen this way is a 3's worst nightmare. Being so emotionally self absorbed is the definition of being a "loser", to 3s. 3s are trying to project the image of competency, of being above all that icky gooey emotional stuff like their own relationship drama. I simply can't see a 3 core writing something like All Too Well or getting famous off of writing break up songs to Stephen about how mean he was to her and how much he broke her heart. Taylor Swift takes pride in her whiny breakup song princess image, or at least she did back in the day.

[A fun note here is that 3-fixes usually talk about their careers a lot, yet they are not as strict as the 3 cores about avoiding emotionally vulnerable expression which touches on their personal life]

A lot of new fans who only hear Taylor's new, slowcore, more reflective stuff think she's a 3w4 or 4. which is bloody hysterical to me. as soon as people get on the "my fave artist is a 4 cuz they're #deep" train I start laughing at them freely cuz it's so cliche. Cliche and basic like Taylor Swift was for 15 years before she started integrating to 4 in her music.

[voluptuarian]

Another day, another worst history/mythology post! It's been awhile.

Now, "x character/historical figure/ethnic group were secretly black!" content is so common that it almost doesn't register anymore, nor is this the first "Worst" entry to feature the idea, but this post was so Wild in its bizarre blanket statements while also mixing some genuine facts in?? that it caught my attention, and brought to mind this great quote from M. R. James

To start, let's look at the plausible stuff.

First they mention some black or potentially black characters in Greek myth, such as Memnon and Andromeda. Both of them are identified with Ethiopia, so that's totally plausible. Cool, with you so far. Then they claim Heracles is black. I'm not used to seeing one-drop-policy applied by Europeans so that's... interesting. A man four generations removed from a single black ancestor would seem more aptly described as "mixed race," but ok, I'll go with it.

Then they bring up a potentially black Zeus in Sophocles' Inachos, which is a genuine debate. However, a single literary description of Zeus hardly seems to set the ethnicity of Heracles in stone, since the gods can look however they want, there are plenty of alternative appearances for Zeus in art/literature, and the genetic inheritance of the gods is, uh, creative at best? Sex with Zeus in swan form produces human-looking babies from eggs, sex with him in eagle form seems to do nothing much special at all, and Hephaestus thinking about Athena while he came made the resulting sperm-baby be born with snake legs. (Don't ask.)

We get into murkier waters with op's statement that Heracles and Apollo should be understood as black because of the sculptures from Veii. Basically according to op, a figure being represented with dark paint or in brown terracotta = the artists' intentions to represent them as "dark skinned" = "dark skinned" must mean black.

And now we get to the core argument of the post, namely, that ethnic Greeks are not white Europeans, but black. As such the Greek gods and heroes were of course, not light-skinned white people, but black. Because you are either Swedish, or Sub-Saharan African, apparently. Op identifies themself as black and distinctly ties their non-whiteness to their Greek identity.

(This is from a point where they imply that Achilles was also black, and that readings of his hair or coloring as light, blonde, or red are incorrect-- his hair color was described to show he was *spins bottle* Angry. Ok.)

So, we've made it to "dark-colored figures in art means black people," "terracotta statuary means black people," and "modern and ancient Greeks are black people because op is. Or something."

Artistic and gender conventions in the ancient Mediterranean don't mean anything apparently. Nor does the presence of dozens of white or light-painted figures either, it would seem. Don't look at these art pieces, then.

Terracotta, by the fact of its being brown, means anything sculpted with it is apparently depicting black people. (Brown people don't exist??) Also every piece of art that isn't colored, and left in its natural tones also dictates race. Every person represented in bronze or onyx or wood is automatically black. Every person represented in marble or ivory is now automatically white. I'm claiming porphyry for the native americans, so now the four tetrarchs were actually indigenous (#historiansdontwantyoutoknow) And if you were unlucky enough to be immortalized in contrasting color stones, god help you.

There also of course aren't a zillion examples of painted terracotta throughout Greece where the subject is portrayed with light skin.

Idk if I'm supposed to just not see these statues? Or if because they were sculpted in terracotta, I'm just supposed to identify them as black somehow? Because if so I can only assume that the ancient Chinese were also black??

Despite these works (these are the original colors of the famous terracotta warriors) being painted to represent lighter skin and East Asian features, they were terracotta underneath, so we all know they were actually Africans. I'm learning so much.

Well, we've figured out that the Chinese are black, and so are the Greeks--- Romans however, seem to be white?? Maybe??

This whole statement is Interesting, but I'm just concerned with the highlighted bit here because

--the "dark skinned" terracotta statues of Apollo and Hercules op is fixated on aren't Greek. They're Etruscan. Veii was in the heart of Etruria.

So not only does the appearance of these statues have no meaning as far as what the Greeks thought about their own ethnicity one way or another, since this isn't Greek art, but if Romans are white, it would follow that the Etruscans are too? Making the whole presence of these statues in this argument completely null.

Of course like the vast majority of the world, the Etruscans did not consider terracotta an inviolable artistic medium which might not be blemished with the application of paint. They frequently painted their pottery and statuary.

(Oh man, light skinned figure and darker skinned figure together! Pale woman and tanned man! Where have I seen these ideas before? Not in the temple of Apollo at Veii, certainly not!)

The statue of Apollo at Veii has darker colored skin, while the statue of his mother (part of the same temple complex) sports a lighter complexion. This of course, definitely does not represent gender ideals or artistic conventions such as those we can clearly see going on in sarcophagus above. Apollo was black African/Greek and the color of the clay proves this. Is his mother also black then, also being made from terracotta? Or white because her skin is painted lighter? These are Etruscan italian works, so they're white, right? But no, no, we've established they're sculpted from terracotta, so that makes them actually black. So are Italians not white now??? Op help!!

To discuss Heracles again and touch more on those claims about Achilles, what is presented as the deciding factor of why these gods and heroes and the Greeks as a whole must be black?

There you are. All those light-skinned Greek folks in Greek art couldn't possibly be white, or any other race but black, because white people can't survive in Greece without modern science.

We all know that black people are universally invulnerable to sun-stroke, and that pre-sunscreen white Europeans swooned away to nothing like sensitive victorian heroines at the mere touch of sunlight. The Romans, Etruscans, Italians in general, Spaniards, and Southern French, apparently, were ok because the heat of Greece specifically is more threatening to weak white flesh than the entire rest of the Mediterranean-- only poc can survive in the hellish wastes of the Aegean.

(White person or vampire?? increasingly hard to tell).

So where does this put the numerous light-skinned figures in Greek art? Including light-skinned representations of op's supposed dark-skinned heroes? And Etruscan works that they claim are black Greeks? Well, now we're getting into a gray area that they don't provide us much context for, so I'm going to have to interpret for myself. This little tidbit might give a hint, though.

This could definitely not mean she restored a manly, youthful look to him (fit, tan, no longer grizzle-haired). Of course, if Athena had to artificially darken him, would that make this the first case of blackface? Or is op implying Odysseus was trans-racial? Does that make Odysseus the only white Greek? Or was he not actually Greek till Athena apparently transformed him into a black man? Does op want me to believe the entirety of Greece, despite different skin tones and origins, have been magically altered into black people through Athena's divine intervention?? Fascinated to know.

[fountainpenguin]

Hate That I Love You 12,5,4,3

[Current Ask game]

130 Prompts #22 - Hate That I Love You - Read on AO3

#ridspoilers

12: What do you like least about this fic?

I don't think there's anything I dislike about this 'fic. It's one of my pride & joys <3 There are several tweaks I would make to H.P.'s family tree if it weren't set in stone, but other than that, I like it.

I think it's one of my most creative character and plot ideas and contains one of my best argument scenes. I love Ambrosine. Something is so very wrong with him and you really get to see that in this piece in a way you don't for any other he appears in. My man did all of it and I care (about him).

My main "issue" with it is that it's backstory for an unpopular character, who is a toddler in this scene when he's an old man in the canon (Bigger investment and learning curve for readers), and the lore here is woven in with my longfic, which makes this piece difficult to recommend to others.

If anything else, since it's 5 years old I'm sure it could use a polish to bring it up to my current writing style. There are places that read choppier to my ear than they used to. But then, I'm literally millions of words deep in my FOP content now, so getting sucked into nitpicking it wouldn't go over well. Every now and then on a reread I stumble across a line written in a style I've outgrown and I do change it, but mostly I leave my stuff intact.

Overall, I'm happy with this piece. Like I said, I love Ambrosine. Hands down one of my best OCs. Absolutely not in a morally way, but in his twisted, anxiety-induced haze.

3: What's your favorite line of narration?

That leads well into the next question about narration I like, because I still love this unhinged exchange between two parents who just threw their crying son off a balcony:

Ambrosine sighed and reached into his pocket. Holding the forget-a-cin canister in front of his son's eyes, he pushed down the top and flashed the light. The pre-bottled magic jumped like a spark from the canister to his forehead. Fergus staggered backwards, rubbing his face with both palms, and went over the edge of the balcony again. His square wings snapped out, desperately beating to no avail. Both parents watched his tumble with lips pressed together hard. Solara nudged Ambrosine with her shoulder. "See, that wasn't so bad. How many doses do you have left?" Ambrosine checked the label on the canister. "Eight. And I sh-should be taking notes for class tomorrow."

Specifically, what makes this scene for me is the way Ambrosine checks how many doses are left on that can. It's just haunting and perfect to me. It simultaneously conveys how little concern he has and implies he's willing to keep this up until the end... even though his infant son is screaming and pleading at him to stop.

Also, the idea that this is all for a school project on central test theory is just... yeah (Central test theory is something I had to learn formulas for while getting my psych major, and the whole thing drove me nuts because, I kid you not, the basic explanation of central test theory is that if you had the ability to erase someone's memories a lot of times, you could have them perform a test over and over and whatever the average of their test scores is, that's their true score. I was not the biggest fan of that class).

Ambrosine living in a world where central test theory is real is just. awful, with the implication that he doesn't really see what he's doing as wrong, because hey... It's part of his major!

I can see a lack of polish in this scene that I'd tweak if I were writing this piece now, but the "checking the label" bit would definitely remain untouched.

Later in this piece (as well as in Origin), Ambrosine does some pretty messed up stuff. These little moments are a core part of his character to me, because the big stuff - like getting one of his grandkids literally addicted to shapeshifting on purpose - IS messed up, but that's nothing new for Ambrosine. He's always been "off." It's why he goes and does things like name his daughter after the name H.P specifically told him he might want for his own kid someday.

You can see Ambrosine's weird behavior in the way his filter breaks, even from the very first chapter of Origin of the Pixies, when he slips out of his prim and proper character long enough to tell Mr. Thimble, "Well, you're super annoying and I don't like you at all," which is far more juvenile than most of his dialogue (In itself a nod to H.P.'s bizarrely casual dialogue in FOP canon).

You also see this part of his character in the way Ambrosine disrespects Anti-Fairy culture (Everything from avoiding certain phrases around Anti-Cosmo in Frayed Knots to straight-up confronting H.P. in Origin and telling him his ancestors would be disappointed that he would dare form a friendship with Anti-Bryndin).

I like Ambrosine because I think he fits well in the FOP world, which is populated by ambiguously bad parents who aren't easy to cut ties with. He's a pleasant, chill guy who runs an honest business. He spared his teen son's life after a duel to the death. He took his adult child in when he showed up with baby Sanderson in tow.

He gave H.P. a decent childhood, even taking him to sports games. But that's the point. He's this blurry figure that H.P. has incredibly mixed feelings about and can't cut out of his life, especially when he ends up raising dozens and hundreds of pixies and needs all the help he could get.

Ambrosine's always been a nervous character, and his behavior stems from a background of abuse, tough expectations in his youth, having a kid while at the Fairy Academy, a war he was forced into, the burden of suddenly becoming his cruel father's sole surviving heir... yeah. Ambrosine, my beloved...

[Cnt'd under the cut]

5: What part was hardest to write?

Mmm... This piece contains some early character studies I did (which I tweaked and put in the italicized sections). I actually enjoy writing romantic / steamy scenes for character study purposes because I feel like it helps me strip a character down to their raw state and evaluate them better.

I have a few Ambrosine and Solara scenes that I've never posted and never intended to (because... OC parents of a character who's elderly in show canon; we don't need to put that on the fanfic website). I actually have them formatted nicely on a separate site because I've debated sharing them over the years, but it never felt right to me. They're vanilla fade to black scenes, but there are lines in there I love.

If people are interested then I might post them on AO3, but again, they're OCs and the FOP fandom is pretty quiet these days, so probably not. Maybe if I build my confidence with other pieces first.

Anyway, I genuinely like those early character studies, so taking those and trying to reformat them in a way that fit this piece was difficult. I think I'd do it differently or not include them at all if I were to redo it now, but I wanted to share those scenes because I had them and I liked them.

4: What's your favorite line of dialogue?

She swallowed. Her hand moved up to the place where he had held the canister. She took her hair between her fingers and clenched it tight. "Amby, I'm sorry. I love you - the good you - but this isn't working, and it's not fair. Please." Her voice left spiderwebbing cracks across the word. "Please let me go." "I can't do that." "Please, Amby. I think it would be for the best if we just-" "I know what will make you stay." Before she could grab his hand, Ambrosine shoved the canister against his own temple and blasted it. He heard Solara screech his name before his eyes rolled back in his head. His arm went over the railing, his knees were falling, and the only thing left to see was white. … So, why was he in the hospital?

Top contender for one of my favorite scenes I've ever written. I hope it came across well to readers, but I really like it. The cutting off your girlfriend / mother of your child with "I know what will make you stay" before you blast yourself with a memory wipe is just... awful. Ambrosine is... I really like him.

Personally, I think this scene was done really well. It's not a morally good thing to do, but I think I built things up so you can understand Ambrosine's desperation. Also, I think Ambrosine turning the canister on himself (after repeatedly using it on his child and partner) was a good move that makes logical sense in the story flow and hopefully wasn't obvious before this moment.

I wanted it to really come across as this "blast" moment where the reader gets thrown into this horrible situation alongside Solara, and I think it worked. It's my favorite. I would've been tempted to use this scene in an original work, but FOP canon just lends itself much more neatly to "people carrying memory wiping stuff around," so there's that.

Thanks for asking!

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Title: Pale Fire

Author: Vladimir Nabokov

Rating: 10/10

A strange and beautiful book, like a rare and perfect pearl, and yet strangely un-pearl-like, which must be very hard to polish? Yes. Yes. This is a book which, once it catches your attention, it is difficult to forget. It demands to be talked about and thought about, like no other book I know of.

And yet the more you think about it the more baffling, and the more "pearl-like," the whole book appears.

I am not sure that you can explain this, but I will try. The great "pearl" of the book, the pearl which it demands to be remembered and thought about, is not any one of the hundreds or thousands of pages: it is the whole "book" as a whole, the shape of the whole, its unique "aura," the way the book makes you feel on a deep, intuitive level that you must discuss it, that you cannot "take the book" or even read it in any ordinary sense — you can only look into its aura, you must hold and examine it in a very particular way, the way one examines a gemstone.

For example, just looking at it, I can make the distinction between the "book" (its shape and its unique aura) and the individual text. The text may be very long — but the aura is inescapably different.

The text does not "go on" (the way a book does), it breaks up. It never really does what it says on the tin; it doesn't "conclude." It does not form one clear "argument," it does not have one "claim" and one "corollary" to back it up. It doesn't "say one thing and prove it" to any great degree: it says a thousand things and proves only the most tentative and peripheral ones. One of its great virtues is that it makes you question and think about what it's saying, and the questions it raises tend to be difficult questions — not questions with easy "answers."

And yet if you're used to thinking of books as a "conclusion" — as containing an "argument" and one "corollary" — you must ask yourself what it even means to "conclude" it, since it is very far from having an "argument" or "conclusion" at all. And indeed, there is almost no explicit argument to be found: the "conclusion" is implied throughout the book, and can be inferred, but the "conclusion" is not really an explicit part of the structure of the book's "bookness" — it is part of its "aura" which is like the "aura" of some rare and beautiful piece of music (or of a person)

......

Pale Fire reads like a series of "tweets" and "replies" and "retweets." The book consists of a series of poems, "discussed" by "others" — usually in very brief, rapid-fire, seemingly casual exchanges, the way one tweets. And yet, even in these little "conversations," each of the "tweetees" has a unique voice, a unique "aura," and together they make up a large whole, which is as much one "person" in conversation as it is one "person" in conversation with another "person."

This leads to a curious difficulty in reading the book. Because each of the "tweetees" is a "person" in conversation with one another, the book has no "center." There is no one person who "is the author" (as in other famous books, like Infinite Jest). The whole "book" is, as I said earlier, a "pearl." There is no one "person" who is doing most of the "tweeting." There are multiple tweeters, and each of them "tweets" in conversation with the others, even while other tweeters are "talking" to them — so that, even though there is a "center," it is a center without a core, or a center which shifts around in response to other centers.

And yet there is one central "topic" of conversation throughout the "book." It is the contrasting of two "poets," "Andrew Marvell" and "Wallace Stevens," which runs through each of the book's many conversations. The contrast is, in part, between "tweeting" styles. The contrast is, in part, between "contemporary poetic norms" and "medieval poetic norms" — between a "conventional," "standardized" poetry which is supposed to follow certain "rules" (the rules that Marvell adheres to), and a "non-conventional" "abstract" poetry (Wallace Stevens' poetry) which does not follow any specific rules or "rules." The contrast is also between the "conventional" and "abstract" forms of poetry which, in turn, contrast with the ways in which the two poets "tweet." The difference between the two "tweeting styles" is that, while Marvell is supposed to write "conventional" poetry, his poems are written on the "left" side of the page in "left-handed" italics. Wallace Stevens, by contrast, is supposed to write "abstract" poetry. His poems are written on the "right" side of the page in "left-handed" italics, and they contain elaborate, long-winded verbal "commentaries" ("essays") which are at odds with the "conventional" style of his poetry.

The contrasts of the two styles of poetry are, I feel, part of what makes the book so difficult to "read." The contrasts are, first of all, between "conventional" styles and "non-conventional" ones, and so they're hard to "tweet" in exactly the right "way" — especially to the degree that they're "conversational," to which both tweeters must respond "appropriately"

......

If you read the book without any awareness of these contrasts, then it is just like a normal book, which means that the aura it has is just like any other book. There are good, mediocre, and bad parts of the book, no more different from Finnegan's Wake than from a novel one person finds enjoyable and the same person finds dull. The "aura" of the whole book, in other words, is something that is always there in all books — something like the "aura" which distinguishes a truly good book from a merely good book, or from a merely good one which one can take pleasure in, or from a merely good book which is too familiar to be truly enjoyable.

But if you read the book with this awareness, and in light of the central contrast of the two poets, then you see that the book is a series of conversations which are all "saying something different about the contrast." And so, you realize that this is something which is unique to this book, which cannot really be compared with anything else. And you cannot "take the book" in any ordinary way. You just can't "take it" at