#it doesn't really matter if the answer is yes or no

[monstersflashlight]

Commission for Vamp

Nipple-tastic

Minotaur (Ambrose) x fem!reader || sfw (mostly), teasing, double POV, (very light) nipple play, UST (Unsolved Sexual Tension™)

Reader’s POV

“I’ve always wanted those,” you let out a mumble when he walks in the living-room without a shirt on. Well, you mumble that after spending about half a minute gaping and trying to make your tongue cooperate.

He scratches his chest absently as he lays snacks on the coffee table. “Wanted what?”

You point at his chest. “Nipple piercings.”

“Is that so?” You think you might've imagined a hint of teasing in his tone, but you aren’t sure. He’s staring down at you, and when you’re sitting on the couch your head is way too close to his groin for you to form coherent thoughts.

And then an idea forms in your brain as he’s sitting down: “Would you do mine?” You try not to sound too excited, but you’re definitely very excited. “Would you pierce my nipples, I mean?” You clarify. “I’d be more confident if you were the one doing them.” Which is true, you’d be more calm if he were the one piercing you, he makes you feel comfortable and safe.

He stutters his answer, “I- Your- Yes. Sure.” He covers his lap with a pillow as you smile big at him.

You let out a happy squeal. “Yay! Can you make the appointment, or should I text Poppy?” You’re already reaching for your phone.

“DON’T-” You jump and look at him, startled by his outburst. “Don’t text Poppy,” he repeats in a calmer tone. “I’ll make the appointment for next week, I think I have a free hour on Thursday, does that work?”

“Yep,” you let out in a strained voice, he’s sitting close and you can feel his heat right at your side, melting half of your ideas and thought.

You’re fumbling with the remote, trying really hard not to stare back at his furry chest and pierced nipples, because then you’re sure you’d have to excuse yourself to the bathroom to masturbate, and you really want to watch a movie.

“I’ll text you the details,” he lets out as you put on the movie distractedly.

Ambrose’s POV

You can do this, you can be normal about it. You can be totally normal about it. You can be professional. You're a professional.

It doesn't matter how many times he’s tried to convince himself that he can deal with the appointment as if nothing’s happening, his half-hard dick and racing heart are calling him a liar.

And then his phone rings from a text message, startling him and making his heartbeat even faster. Fuck, is he having a heart-attack? Can minotaurs have heart-attacks? He doesn’t think so, but maybe he’s the first one. Maybe he’s about to die because he’s pining so hard that his heart is going to explode just because his mate’s name flashes across his screen.

He checks his phone, trying to be sly about it. The second he grins at his screen, Poppy is chuckling. “Hey Brick, look at lover boy being all stupid-faced because of a human,” she teases.

���Shut up, Poppy,” he retorts.

It was only a text to ask if you could spend the night at his house, and yet he feels stupid as he tries to text a ‘yes’ and fumbles with the letters on his phone until the message is “ues”. He can feel his face heating as he sends a second text quickly after, this time with the correct letters. He can’t stop making a fool of himself, can he?

Brick is chuckling when he teases him: “Awwwww! Look at him, Poppy! I think he just blushed!”

“I hate you both,” Ambrose complains. He can see Brick about to say something when the bell above the door rings.

You walk in with a plushie in one hand, looking incredibly cute as you close your umbrella with the other. Ambrose tries really hard to gather the neurons in his slow-melting brain.

He cannot be normal about this.

He swallows hard as you exchange some pleasantries and fun banter with his friends and walk into the station. He’s trying to regain at least a semblance of a calm demeanor before you enter and he sees your boobs. There’s no way you’re about to walk in his space and pull off your shirt as he stares at and touches your tits.

HE’S GOING TO TOUCH YOUR BREASTS. YOURS!

Oh, goddess… He might just die today.

He barely hears anything being said, completely dissociating until he hears you close the door behind yourself and lay on the reclined piercing chair he prepared. “Okay, take off your shirt and let’s begin,” his voice sounds strained, even to his own ears, but you don’t seem to notice as you comply.

He has a mini crisis when you take off your crop top and realizes you weren’t wearing anything underneath it. All his brain is capable of conjuring up is thoughts of ‘free access’ as he blinks slowly and turns around to hide his erection from you. You’re humming quietly as you fold your shirt and he re-organizes his already organized tools.

Do not grope her. Do not caress her skin. Do not think about licking her boobs until she’s a wet mess under you and begging to be filled by your cock-

Yeah, no. His inner monologue is absolutely not helping right now, and he’s powerless to change it to safer topics because your boobs are right in front of him, and you’re waiting for him to touch them.

Professionally. PROFESSIONALLY! Be professional, Ambrose.

He swallows hard before continuing: “I’m going to pinch your nipple lightly so it hardens, okay?” You nod, looking away as your face gets incredibly pink.

He pinches the tender flesh between the tip of his fingers and almost moans. You let out a tiny huff, and the way your skin blooms with goosebumps makes his brain start running rampant with more dirty thoughts. Stop it you perverted bull, he reminds himself.

“I’m going to sanitize the area and equipment with alcohol wipes, then with a marker I’ll mark the spots on both sides that the needle will pierce into and come out of. After that, I’ll use the forceps to ensure that the area is as still as possible before piercing the needle through your nipple and putting the bar in its place. In a couple of months you can choose to come back to size them down, if you want.” You hum in agreement, and it’s him who has to take a deep breath before proceeding.

You cover your face with your plushie and Ambrose has to bite his lip not to coo at you. At the same time, he’s way too focused on the task at hand- on your breast in his hand, to be precise. Then at how, the second the needle pierces through your nipple, you give the absolute quietest gasp and he smells a surge of arousal in the air. Fuck, he forgot that you like a little pain, and now he’s having trouble breathing with how aroused it seems to have made you.

He’s biting the inside of his cheek so hard he can taste blood, but he doesn’t care as he changes the needle out and holds your other boob carefully. You aren’t looking at him, but the way your breathing is increasing and the way your nipple doesn't need help getting hard this time makes him want to moan out loud.

“All done?” You ask excitedly. He nods and hums an affirmative ‘Mhm,’ not trusting his own voice.

You get up with a tiny jump that makes your tits shake and bounce, and he mumbles a curse under his breath as his dick throbs inside his pants. He’s pretty sure he’s going to have an imprint of the fly off his pants on his dick at this point.

You’re looking at your reflection as you excitedly state: “Awesome!”

Your excitement is contagious and he can’t avoid the smile growing on his face. You turn around, pressing your tits together as if offering them to him, and he has to cover his groin with his hands, scared his dick is about to burst through the fabric. “What do you think? You think they look cool?”

You’re completely oblivious to his struggles as you examine one of the bars. “Yup. Nipple-tastic,” he says in a short breath, making you awkwardly pity-laugh as he regrets his life choices while glancing at your breasts jiggling. “Wait for me outside while I sanitize everything and we can go, okay?”

You nod shyly, your face completely blushed and giving him all kinds of dirty ideas of when else your face would be that pink. How far that blush would go… Fuck. You put on your crop top and walk out with a big grin.

He’s cleaning up and trying to hold his breath in so he doesn’t inhale more of the delightful scent of your arousal when he hears Poppy shit-talking: “Yeah, minotaurs love some good riding, just like bulls.” He’s disconnected enough not to understand the context of what she’s saying, but the thought of his friend talking to his mate about riding minotaurs is getting him dangerously close to losing control.

Calm down, he reminds himself.

“Come on, Ambrose! The human is waiting for yaaaaaaaa…” Brick says in a sing-songy tone as Ambrose tries to regain some of his inner control. He’s trying to willpower his dick to go down enough to survive the drive to his house.

He can do it. He can do it. Think of old ladies’ pussies. Think of rotten food. Think of that disgusting mold Brick was trying to feed him back when they were kids.

He’s almost gotten his dick down when he takes a deep breath and... He can’t do it.

He’s looking down, annoyed at his still hard dick as he mumbles: “Will you just calm down so we can leave, dammit?”

He can hear his friends laughing uncontrollably as you ask what’s happening, your human ears not able to catch his mumbling. Poppy and Brick are too busy laughing to respond, so he rapidly finishes cleaning and walks out, trying to hide his hard dick as best as he possibly can.

“Are you ready to go?” He asks as he glares daggers at his friends.

You turn around with a soft smile that melts the anger inside of him instantly. “Yeah, sure. I thought we could order some food, or did you wanna stop and eat somewhere?” you ask as the two of you walk out, leaving his stupid friends snickering like hyenas behind.

He’s so going to kill his friends.

[kings-highway]

Ushijima is minding his own business, sitting on his bed with his laptop open, working away at some school assignment or another. It doesn't really matter to Tendou what he's doing, he intends to interrupt it anyway. He does so quite gladly, swinging his way into the room with a sung hello and then sliding into the place beside him.

He gets a polite, stiff hello back, as Ushijima remains focused on what he was working on, but Tendou pays it no mind. Instead, he leans forward, to wrap his arms around Ushijima's shoulders and tug on him to get this attention.

"Hey, quick Q, Wakakun," he says, a purr to his voice indicative of the playful mood he woke up in. Ushijima finally gives him a small sliver of attention, perhaps only due to the fact that Tendou is poking and prodding and touching at him so much.

"Yes?"

"Would you still love me if I were a worm?"

"Yes," is the easy, immediate reply, as Ushijima returns to focusing on his computer, as if annoyed by Tendou wasting his time with a question he should have known the answer to. The ease of it makes Tendou frown, then laugh, and leans in more to put his chin on Ushijima's shoulder.

"Really? That's it? Normally you require like a dozen clarifying questions before you can answer a metaphorical question like that," Tendou teases, lifting a hand up to play with Ushijima's hair.

"The question is not metaphorical," Ushijima replies.

"Hypothetical then."

"It is not a complicated question," Ushijima insists, sitting back to look at Tendou properly, forcing the other to sit up a bit and stop draping himself across him. "I am in no control over who or how I love, those feelings aren't inherently logical. Whether or not you became a worm, you-" and here he beckons to the current human body Tendou was in. "-would remain the person I am in love with. In the same way that I would not stop being in love with you if you were to break up with me, or if you were to die. Would you being a worm change things, absolutely. I do not feel like I could maintain a relationship with a worm. I am not sure I would want to. But my love for you is not conditional to this exact moment."

Tendou smiles, lifting a hand up to poke at Ushijima's cheek. "Cute. I'll take it. The correct answer is to say-"

"The real question," Ushijima says, prompting Tendou to refocus in curiosity. "Is if you would still love me if you were a worm."

Tendou blinks. "Eh?"

"Well, you would be a worm. Love as humans describe it is mostly a social construct, it isn't something you see in every animal. Yes, many animals bond for life and can experience heartbreak, but those are in other primates or at least other vertebrates, and even then it is unlikely to be love as we are familiar with it. Worms are exceedingly simple creatures, and probably cannot experience love like we understand it. The brain of a worm simply may not be capable of feeling true romantic love - it may not even be able to remember it ever had. So while I can assure you that my love for you would not be shattered by your changing form, would you be certain that you would even still care by the time the transformation is complete? Or would you be more concerned with your new worm priorities you would leave and never come back?"

Tendou stares at him for a moment, eyes narrowing.

"I would like to say that my love for you would transcend worm-brain."

"Well, you've always been a romantic," Ushijima replies, looking back to his computer. "Don't worry. I will continue to care for you even as a worm. And if you cannot love me anymore, I will not judge you for simply being a worm and behaving as one would. I'll... Make a little worm habitat, to keep you safe in."

Tendou smiles. "Aw. So you do know the right answer. You don't normally nail questions like this, did Semi already brief you on this or something?"

"No, I was already familiar with Kafka. Semi did not tell me anything."

"...what?" Tendou says.

"The Metamorphosis," Ushijima replies, once again looking back at him, now seeming confused. "Is that not what we were talking about?"

"...no? What the hell is that?"

"A story about what would happen if someone suddenly turned into a bug," Ushijima replies. "I believe 'would you still love me if I were a worm' is essential to the theme of the book, though its answer to the question seems to be no. Maybe I am also a romantic."

Tendou blinks at him, then pats him on the shoulder and gets to his feet. "I should have known better when you answered the question so fast," Tendou said. "You'd already been thinking about it."

"Mostly I have been thinking about what I would do if I became a bug, yes. But imagining myself as the family was an interesting interpretation," Ushijima offers.

[noaanotfound]

I LOVE YOU, ALWAYS

pairing: Se-Mi x f!reader

warnings: violence

synopsis: you don't know where Se-Mi is. She doesn't answer your calls, nor your messages, so you try every possible way to find her.

content: this gives pure depression

wc: 3.2k

a/n: this is like the best fic I've ever written. I was going to say I'm sorry in advance but, actually, I'm not 😇

“The number you have dialed is not in service at this time. Please leave a-“

Your hands were shaking, the beep of the call ringing, your breathing becoming heavier.

This was the third day. Third day since you’ve been calling non-stop, sending messages, asking people around. And still, you didn’t get an answer.

Everything between you and Se-mi looked fine, felt fine. Why did she leave leaving no trace? Was she okay? You couldn’t stop your mind from thinking that something happened to her. Something bad. Because how could she do that with no reason? That wasn’t her. Your instinct told you there was something else, something deeper.

You decided to call again. That damn beep sounding for the eighteenth time that afternoon. This time, you stayed until the ‘please leave a message after the tone’.

“Se-mi… are you okay? Please tell me if you are, where the hell are you? I’ve been looking for you, asking people about you, sending messages and calling. I… I don’t even know what else to do” Your voice broke through the phone, but you didn’t care about it anymore. “Don’t leave me, please. Not like this. Did I do anything wrong? I’ll apologize, I swear. But please, just tell me something, anything” A pause was heard. “I love you”

You waited for five minutes, felt like two whole damn hours. You spent those minutes looking at the clock, hearing the sound it made every second. Then, you started writing more messages. You lost count of how many you had already sent.

“Please tell me you’re okay. Say something”

“I miss you, come home”

“I’m sorry if I did something. I love you”

“If something happened, tell me where you are. I don’t care if you’re in the fucking Antartica, I’ll go. Right now. I’ll do anything.”

“Please tell me you’re safe”

“Are you going to choose to keep playing next time?” Min-us asked, not judging, just curious. She shook her head. “Why?”

The room felt tense, smaller than other days. They could hear people planning things, making groups. But they were going to end up dying anyway, that was the harsh truth behind all of this.

Se-mi was sitting next to Min-su on the stairs between two rows of beds. No one else was near.

“I have something to fight for outside here” She looked at the floor. “Someone”

The younger one didn’t say anything, but he turned his face to her, allowing her to keep talking.

“She’s… the most beautiful human being to ever exist, you know? You should see her” She turned her gaze to meet his. “I know she would hate this fucking place, and I know she would hate that I decided to get in too. Even without knowing about the killing part”

Min-su nodded. “I'm sure she would understand”

“She would. She always does” While she was talking about you, about her girl, her smile was genuine and her eyes sparkly as ever.

Her smile slowly faded away when she remembered something. “Min-su, can you do me a favor?”

Min-su was surprised, but he quickly nodded, a little bit nervously. “What is it?”

“If something happens to me…” She put her hands inside her pants pocket, taking out a folded piece of paper. “Can you give it to her? The address is in the paper”

The boy's mouth opened and closed a few times because he really didn't know what to say. Of course he would do it, if he survived, but hearing those words was harsh. Especially coming from her.

From what he could know in those three days, Se-mi wasn't the type of person to open up easily or talk about personal matters. So, since she was talking about that, it should be very important for her.

Min-su rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes… sure”

Se-mi smiled and handed him the letter. “Hey, don't open it, I told her where the body is hidden in that”

Min-su laughed a bit awkwardly, his usual laugh, followed by Se-mi’s.

They didn't know that was going to be their last laugh together.

It was rainy. You didn’t even know which day it was. You just knew this was the fifth day and Se-mi didn’t send a single message, didn’t call.

You tried everything. You went outside everyday to try to find her somewhere, you continued asking, calling and texting. Still nothing.

What were you doing wrong?

You thought about people who could want to hurt her, to do something to her. She did have debts, but you didn’t know who she owed her money to. You did ask, but she didn’t want to tell you.

Now, you understood she didn’t want to put you in danger.

There was still a chance that she just left. You preferred it, because that would mean she’s okay. All you cared about was her being fine. You couldn’t cry anymore, there were no more tears in your eyes because you just couldn’t let it all out.

You sighed, got up from the couch and grabbed a hoodie and some pants. You didn’t even grab an umbrella.

Well, not a hoodie, her hoodie. It was her favorite.

That was why you thought something happened to her. She left with no clothes and no money. She couldn’t be out there without that.

When you stepped out of your building, you felt the rain dropping on your skin. You closed your eyes for a couple of seconds. Her hoodie felt like her, felt like she was hugging you.

You wished it was like that.

Your feet started moving, almost automatically. You decided to go search through dark alleys, the ones where shit happened. Everyone in that street knew it. If someone took her, they must be there.

No one was outside. You were the only person there, because you were mad in love.

You remembered what you told her that night when you were on the couch. “I love you, always”. You swore to yourself that you’d never, ever, stop loving her. Because your heart knew it. You wouldn’t stop loving her, not even if you wanted to.

You pulled up your hood to cover yourself a bit from the rain and started looking at the sides of the street, searching for some places that might look suspicious.

The first alley looked like a poor neighborhood, clothes were hung out in the street, broken bicycles were everywhere. Even the smell was weird. But nothing, no one was there.

Same thing happened with the second one: an alley with a lot of bars with lights. The only ones there were just alcoholics, or drug addicts. But no one was exactly dangerous.

Just when you were going to walk out of the third alley, someone grabbed you from your shoulder and made you turn around. It was a tall man with a big beard, you could see tattoos all over his arms.

The typical ‘tough’ guy, you thought.

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at him with no hint of any fear. “What do you want?”

“Aren’t you Se-mi’s girl?” His voice was rough and deep. You could smell the scent of alcohol.

Something lit up in your eyes. He knew her. Maybe he knew where she was. But you weren’t going to be that obvious.

“I am. Again, what the hell do you want?” You shook your shoulder, getting rid of his hold on you.

“Same attitude, no doubt you’re her partner” He said that in a way of derision. “Where the fuck is that bitch? She still owes me money, you know that right?” He got closer.

You didn’t buy it. If someone did something to her, it must have been him. You took a step closer, showing you didn’t care about him.

“You’re the one who knows where she is” You pushed him in the shoulder.

He quickly grabbed you by the collar of the hoodie, making your hood fall off. You gasped. “Listen, little piece of shit, if I had any idea of where she is I would have beat the shit out of her already”

It was impossible not to be nervous with that man grabbing you, but you kept on talking. “You talk too much, but you don’t do anything. Who’s the little piece of shit then?” You knew you shouldn’t, but you spit him on the face.

He instantly threw you to the floor with force when you did that. You fell on your elbows and your face showed that it definitely had hurt. He lowered himself to the floor and grabbed you again.

You didn’t expect him to do it, but he did. He punched you, right on the side of your face. You fell on your side, supporting your whole body to the floor with one arm.

“I don’t care where she is. I don’t care if she’s dead or alive. But that money is mine. If she doesn’t pay me, you’re going to” Then, he grabbed you by the face. “And if you don’t, you’re going to be disappearing too”

He finally walked out from your sight. You could feel blood coming out of your face, but you instantly got up. It hurt, but still not knowing where she was hurt more.

Se-mi's dad was a drug addict and a compulsive gambler. Since her mom was dead too, when he died, all his debts were transferred to her. It wasn't her fault.

You came out of the alley at a fast pace. Your breathing was so heavy, you couldn’t breathe. You put your hand on a wall and folded your knees, pressing your chest with your other hand.

You tried to breathe, you definitely tried. But you couldn’t. That’s when you noticed tears were running down your eyes. You couldn’t stop them.

Your knees fell to the floor and your back pressed to the wall. You closed your eyes, tried to breathe three consecutive times and failed. You punched your chest, tried to make your lungs work.

It felt like hours until your breathing came out again. But tears never stopped flowing. You didn’t know if someone saw you, but if they did, no one did anything.

Where the hell was she? You wanted to be with her again, to feel her arms surrounding you, her lips on yours. Everything. You couldn’t be without her, what would you even do?

Your world was falling apart piece by piece.

Ninth day.

You didn’t leave your bed for two days. You couldn’t. What was the point anymore?

Then, your door bell rang. You waited four seconds, your eyes opened instantly. Was it Se-mi? Did she come back?

Please, let it be her.

You got out of bed in the split of a second, you ran towards your door and grabbed the telephone next to it.

“Se-mi?” Your breath sounded heavier, and your voice desperate.

“There’s a package for you”

You couldn’t believe it. You threw the telephone to the ground, left it handing over the cable. You fell to your knees again.

You punched the floor. You screamed. You cried.

And then, you walked down the stairs with your pajamas, without any shoes.

When you reached the door and opened it, there was a black envelope with a red little lace on it on the floor. You furrowed your eyebrows, confused. But you grabbed it.

You entered your house again, sat on the couch, took a deep breath and opened the envelope. It looked like there were two papers inside it. You took out the first one.

You didn’t notice that your hands were shaking when you unfolded the paper. Right when you saw the first damn letter, you knew whose handwriting that was.

Your hand came up to your mouth, to silence the sobs that were going to come out.

To my everything,

I’m writing this at night, I think. I don’t know what hour it is. No one knows. At least they were human enough to give me a paper and a pen.

If I didn’t give this to you myself, I’m probably not here anymore. You know you were, are, and will always be the love of my life. I want to show you that more, but I don’t know if I’ll have time for that. I hope you’re okay, you always find a way to be.

I want you to know that you have to get through this. Don’t get stuck, not for me. I want you to live. I got in this shit to finally pay off my doubts, to not put you in danger. I have you in my mind every day, every fucking day. I want to get through this for you, but this is… I don’t even have words. It’s cruel. So much.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not making it out, for every damn mistake I made about us… I’m sorry for everything I can’t tell you I feel sorry for anymore. When I sleep, I dream about hugging you. Remember that time you wanted a flower but it wasn’t allowed to take one and I did and then the police came? I’d do it again. I’d do everything for you, I swear. I’m also sorry for not telling you about this, I didn’t want you to get worried. You would have said to me that it was crazy. I didn’t tell you because I know that if you asked me not to go, I wouldn’t. But I don’t want my problems to eat you alive.

Please, remember me. You’re the most important person in the whole universe for me. The way you always succeed to make me calm, the way you find solutions for every problem, the way you love so deeply. Don’t ever forget how much I love you.

You’re my everything in every universe.

Love you, always,

Se-mi.

Tears started falling when you started reading the first damn word.

You were right, something did happen to her. But being dead? You didn't expect it at that limit. You couldn't believe she was gone just like that.

One day she was holding you and the next she was just… gone.

The worst thing is that you don't know where, how, what was that place she was talking about. Why didn't she call the police? She probably didn't have her phone, but…

You didn't even know what you were thinking about. Your gaze stopped on a random place in your room for minutes, Se-mi’s letter still shaking on your hands, your whole body tense.

It was like the whole world stopped. Your world.

Because your world was Se-mi.

What were you going to do without her? How did she expect you to keep going, to not get stuck?

Then, you remembered there was another letter there. You sighed shakily and took it in your hands. When you opened it, the handwriting wasn't the same one.

The handwriting looked messy, like someone was shaking while writing it.

I'm Min-su. I met Se-mi in the games. She was the one who told me to give this to you if something happened to her. I convinced a guard to send this to you if I don't make it out.

I'm writing this hours after she died. After she was killed. I thought you'd want to know what happened to her.

This place is… somewhere where desperate people like me, like us, have a choice to pay off their doubts. They offered this to us by playing ddakji. If you won, you'd get money, and if you didn't you'd get slapped. After this, they gave us a card with these symbols △□○ written on it and a number on the other side. We called and they got us here. We didn't know, I swear we didn't. They make us play children's games and if you fail, you get killed. I know this sounds crazy, but I swear it is what's happening.

We had to vote to keep playing or to stop and go home. The first option won, because most of the players needed more money. Everytime someone's killed, they add money to the prize.

The lights went off and on every single second. People started killing each other with anything they had. It was a game for them. Nam-gyu, that idiot, he killed her.

I tried. I swear I tried. I threw a bottle, but I just couldn't… I couldn't. I'm sorry.

She voted to go home last time, and she told me it was because of you, because she had someone to fight for outside here. Someone worth this place. She told me that she loved you, deeply did. That you were the most beautiful human being she had ever seen. Just by her eyes, I could tell how much she loved you. Her eyes lit up that time when she talked about you.

Se-mi was the only human person here. She helped me, every time. Every single time. And I didn't. Right when I had to, I didn't.

It's my fault. I'm sorry.

-Min-su.

What were you supposed to do in that situation? You couldn't take it.

Who was that guy, Nam-gyu? You wanted to find him, to kill him for what he did. You felt angry, sad, desperate.

Broken.

You felt thankful for that guy, Min-su, for telling you how she… died. That word was difficult to say, to think about it even.

But what did he mean when he said he couldn't do it, that he tried? You wouldn't have more answers. And that felt like someone kicking your stomach.

Your heart was ripped apart.

You pushed your knees to your chest and you hugged your knees with your arms, resting your head on them. You cried, you cried out loud because you couldn't hold it anymore.

There was no place to talk to her, to feel her loss. Not a cemetery, not a coffin, not her body.

A year has passed since you received those letters. You still kept them next to your bed because you still read Se-mi’s some nights befores sleeping.

Well, you couldn't even sleep.

But you just couldn't read Min-su's. You couldn't read how he died anymore, because your mind started making scenarios. You had nightmares about it.

You still called her sometimes. Because there was still a piece of you that hoped to hear her voice again. But that didn't happen.

Now, you were sitting on a bench in front of a lake. That's where your first kiss with her happened, when she asked you to make it official, when everything started.

You knew she was the one since the first day. And you know she did too.

You started going out without feeling bad a month ago, hanging out with friends. She was still on your mind every single second, but you accomplished her last wish.

It was the time of the sunset. You were looking at the sky. You weren't religious, but if she was somewhere there, you wanted her to know that you still love her and always will.

A year felt like three without her. You couldn't sleep on her side of the bed, you couldn't eat her favorite foods, nor her favorite drinks. Sometimes, you took one of her clothes out of the wardrobe and hugged it while you slept.

You were still dealing with loss and pain, you'd be dealing with that forever. But you did what she wanted, you lived. You didn't get stuck.

Because like she said, you always found a way to be fine. A solution.

Or, at least, tried to.

Because you loved her, always.

[king-starscreams-fics]

I agree.

Even in G1, Megatron risked his own life to save Optimus's on at least one occasion.

Yes, before anyone jumps on me, I know he also sent all the Autobots on a collision course with the Sun. But as G1 went on, we saw him listen to and trust Optimus more. Maybe, if Hasbro hadn't been forced to kill off most of their G1 characters due to American rights issues (why is America so weird? Don't answer that!), things would have been very different.

Anyway...

I really loved EarthSpark S1 – the idea that Decepticons weren't inherently evil and that most of them do just want to live is brilliant, if you ask me. I'd argue, personally, that even the ones that are "evil" just don't know how to behave outside of conflict – even Megatron, for all his desire for peace in ES, still thrives on fighting. He tells Bumblebee to intimidate the Terrans (although, he was very much in Battle Mode at the time and might not have really been thinking about what Bumblebee was asking him – or, more importantly, thinking about why) for example and he seems to get excited about standing against GHOST and Mandroid to protect the Malto Family.

I really love how complicated Megatron is. Optimus, too, is complicated – a leader trying to do the right thing, no matter what, but not always getting it right. In G1, he tries to appeal to Megatron's better nature (as, occasionally, does Starscream – usually after irritating Megatron so much that his better nature is beyond reach – but we're not here to talk about Starscream right now).

In ES, Optimus has Megatron's support but doesn't always understand or appreciate it (especially in S2-3). I like how complicated their relationship still is, but it would have been nice to see them work together without Optimus and Megatron being rude and/or resentful to each other. I was disappointed by how much backsliding went on in the writing with S2-3 of EarthSpark, when the first season was so daring and exciting.

Just a quick reminder in most (or some) series when Optimus dies, Megatron becomes depressed as fuck because he never actually means for him to die or to ever kill him intentionally

Also, in Armada (2002 series) He was actually VERY happy Optimus was alive

Not to mention the fact in TFP, When Optimus lost his memories, Megatron was happy about having Optimus for a little while

[werezmastarbucks]

U N19

U N7 masterlist 14/14 + 2 extra chapters

word count: 3257

music: bicycle by rm, blue by yung kai, all i wanted by paramore

warnings: yoongi's a babygirl (evil) (not really)

if he hasn't started inserting himself into your life, the feeling might have gradually settled to a cooling temperature where it would stop to matter in the end.

that's one thing you realise when he calls you.

Yoongi doesn't let you go on for longer than a week, without reminding of himself. the whispers behind his voice, drawn by your imagination, suggest that it is now a collective effort. you have no idea of scale of the operation, just how many people are involved in this scheme: you want to consult with HESCGC but find the chat has been abandoned, as in, everybody left it except for you. it breezes over with a somber, unpleasant feeling. why would they leave the chat even if it was inactive? you console yourself by saying they probably have a lot of chats in their messengers and get lost in them.

it's too early to think about Kim Seongjun yet, and your nights with Komangi are serene and full of rest, sometimes reinforced with comfort when Yoongi calls. he switches from texts to those, and you don't notice until it's too late. he calls more and more, often to speak about nothing, and one night you're suddenly sharing news and the bedroom starts smelling like spring in the middle of September.

"age definitely made me less dramatic", he mentions casually one night, "everything seems so simple nowadays".

"wasn't simple before?"

"it used to be cloudy. can you help me out?"

you like how his voice goes up politely, repeating the rainbow's bend, when he's being shy.

"with what?"

"i have to perform in Pohang next Sunday", he grumbles. it sounds like there's a gun at his temple. you think he's being cunning.

"you can always say no. hope that helps?"

he chuckles.

"no, i have to. chaebol will be there".

sometimes you're reminded of the nature of his job. it's been a while since you even thought of them as idols. so many years after they started they don't come across restricted at all, to you. it's a fine shake to reality: he will always be an idol, no matter how far he runs from it and how many ties he manages to sever with the scissors of success. there will always be at least one left. it's how the country works.

"you want me to protect you?"

"yeah. can you come?"

"i will".

Yoongi doesn't send you his schedule anymore; arrangement is outdated. now he calls you once a week at night, because the daytime is busy; sometimes he sounds tired, sometimes, joyful. a break is only a break for those who have a child or a pregnant wife to care for. the others are still working their assess off, but also in Yoongi's case it's something that he chooses.

"you have pears yet?" he asks.

"yes, do you have apples and plums?"

"too many, i don't pick them at all".

"you should gather them and send to Taeyang".

he puffs instead of an answer.

"i am kind of so busy".

you chuckle. you think you should come over to Seoul more often, maybe every other weekend. have coffee with Yuri who is suffering without you; or even with all the girls.

you decide to take the fast train that will take you to Pohang in an hour. Yoongi's schedule aligns with yours in that you can catch it at five and be there for the beginning of the show. he wants to catch up before he goes on stage; but the evening just doesn't go as planned.

if you had chosen to be there later, and gone for the usual suburban train that rides with all stops for two hours, you might have actually been there earlier. the Busan express runs someone over on the tracks; the passengers peek out of the windows as you all remain stuck on the iron rails and wait, for almost an unbearable time. you send him a text saying you'll be late because of someone's suicide. when you finally make it to the arena in Pohang, you enter the stadium, vibrations drumming through the bones in your feet and climbing up to your chest, and Mr. Lee meets you. you can hear the sounds of Yoongi's music as he's performing. the huge screen doubles and broadcasts all his movements, delaying him only for a fraction of a second; he's in a white silk shirt and doesn't get to rap about his dick tonight; it's a charity event for the cultured people. you haven't heard this full-instrumental version of Seesaw in a long time; feels fresh with his new, soothing voice.

"am i very late?" you scream to Mr. Lee, walking right before you. he turns back for a second.

"third song".

his big thumb goes up to calm your mind. you put your hands into the pockets of your leather jacket as you walk slowly through the narrow paths, snaking in the middle of seats and railings, in the sea of purple. feels like a magic forest for a second; the mellow and melodic voices of the Armys singing along make it sound like a lullaby even with the drums.

he takes you backstage and leaves, stepping into his black spot: Mr. Lee is more often there, than he's visible. with time, even though you generally didn't get to see him as much as Yuri did, he started seeming like an uncle to you. always a tight smile under the guise of a busy frown. strong forehead, curious eyes. this dude laughs so much more than he wants to let on. you step away from the light as well; people swarming to and fro, they are busy. you take off your jacket, and the shoulders turn out to be covered in small shivers. the air is sliding through the uneven open space of the gloomy backbone of the stage. music is booming. his voice is thundering with echoes, projected into another direction, here, behind his back, it sounds distorted. you figure you haven't been to any music shows in a while and should catch up; Busan's a big city, and even international bands come over sometimes. your head bobs together with the rhythm of the music, a blend of songs from different years, the lyrics fluctuating from angry and rash to thoughtful and optimistic. Yoongi doesn't speak much in between them, knowing that he has a defined window of time to do his seven pieces and get off the stage, but you hear him eventually call to hear his name shouted, in his raspy voice he uses to tease the audiences. they erupt in an ecstatic yell; most of them have grown alongside Yoongi and never lost their longing for him. just like you. somewhere in the arena, there's a girl who is turning a respectable age next year, who still has a weird little tear in her heart when she hears her old friend Suga. or, worse, you think, rubbing a piece of someone's old chewing gum stuck to the floor, with the tip of your sneaker. a young beautiful girl, glowing that special shine that sets her apart from the mature, who is ready to do anything to get to him. who has the same kind of desperate desire for him that you used to have. who isn't dancing now, isn't reacting like the rest of the crowd, but just stands there, looking at him with those starry, dreamy eyes you used to have.

his segment ends, and the crowd sends him off with the last roaring hug flying onto the stage. the chokehold that Bangtan still has on this country... about 70% of the stadium is there for him and not the others. they should be sure to remember that.

you move yourself a bit further, feeling the surge of stylists and workers pacing closer, as Mr. Lee opens the curtain and lets Yoongi in - or out - and they surround him, undressing him from the wires. he refuses the towel, nodding, then you see his eyes searching for you. he asks something, and the guardian points at you as you step out of the shadow a little and wave at him. the way he starts moving, with his hand extended, like he wants to run away immediately, makes a funny parallel to the first time you ever met face to face. you catch his palm that slides up your arm and eventually grabs your shoulder in a hug. he moves your body away, starts walking at once, putting distance between you and the noise.

"sorry i'm so late", you murmur.

"did you arrive now?"

"no, i heard seesaw".

"oh", your bare shoulder is soft against his silk shirt. you hope he can keep it; the pearl shade of white looks stunning on him. the friction makes the strap of your dress slide down and you adjust it.

"you missed summer".

"sorry".

"it's alright, i'm just yapping".

he puffs his cheeks, releasing the adrenaline from the stage.

"we always talk about breaks and i always start missing performing together after six months".

"that seems to be the tendency with you reluctant septuplets".

he gasps theatrically, opening the door of the dressing room for you.

"that is so right".

"if you were girls, you would all get your periods simultaneously, while being in different countries".

he looks like he's having a small enlightenment at your words. as soon as the door closes, he puts the other hand on you, giving you a proper hug, but the nature of your dress turns it somewhat sensual. Yoongi doesn't hide the way he's looking at the curves of your body as he kisses you on the cheek. this is turning too casual, and you're not sure you mind. you haven't clicked your teeth at him in a while.

"where do you wanna have dinner?" he asks as he sits himself into the chair. all the products are already neatly arranged on the desk in front of him, but there are no stylists to wipe the makeup off him. he takes a bottle of liquid and taps the cotton pad on it. you decide not to be too useless, so you walk over to him, taking in his new hair, the usual side bangs and a small mullet, with strikingly black hue again. the hair clips are right there in front of him, but he doesn't use them, rubbing his forehead. you move his bangs away and pin them up with the clips, and he looks almost criminally cute. you actually want to bare your teeth and scold him for the face he makes, as he gives up to your hands. his fingers tug at your hip to pull you on his lap, but you gently push them away, bowing instead and offering the view of your cleavage. his skin is a map of his life; lines going down from his nose and the laughing wrinkles at the corners of his eyes; one monolid and one double. acne scar on his cheek: you have a similar one on your forehead. he simply refuses to lose the cheeks. you rub off the foundation carefully, removing the darkness from his eyebrows.

"i have a job offer for you", he mutters.

"what's the pay?"

he thinks a little.

"two kiwis and one scare a day".

your lips curve in a smile.

"you can keep it".

it's weirdly therapeutic, even calming, to work on his face. it's a gesture for sure, you see his eyes become more and more soft as you clean him. after, you send him off to the bathroom to wash, and he returns the usual Yoongi, bangs standing up, lips pouting, the way you used to see him in Seoul all the time. his eyes are searching for something around you and the chair you're sitting on.

"where's your bag?"

"i have none".

"ah". he blinks.

"i thought you'd stay for the night".

you raise your brows a little.

"tomorrow's Monday, i need to be at work. i figured i'd be coming for the show".

he rubs his hands, thinking, with the expression of refusal that he doesn't display often. chews on his cheek. maybe if you hadn't been so late he would've let it go, but there was a reason you put on this dress specifically. actually, you're not sure what the reason was. guess to tease him, simply. see how weak he really is.

Yoongi steps out of the dressing room and closes the door quietly, then you're left for a couple of minutes on your own. you fidget with the two colorful hair clips in your fingers, then step back to the mirror and put them back into place, turn off the light.

he returns, moving a little more swiftly, with a different light on his face.

"okay, i will take you to Busan", he says. you nod.

"you hungry?"

"nope, i had a little..." he pauses, "are you?"

you shake your head no. put your jacket back on and he changes into casual clothes, then leads you out, and down the corridor.

"aren't there people outside?" you ask and get your tail from under the jacket.

"about a hundred people", Mr. Lee says, "there's no other way out".

you are surrounded by the security, Yoongi's assistant Vicky and her minions, and the other staff that belongs to the arena.

"just walk over with us", Mr. Lee advises, "you can let your hair down".

Yoongi smirks about something. it's a trap he's leading you in, slowly, pretending it's nothing. you remove the tie and let the hair spread on your back and cover your face as you approach the exit. Yoongi pulls his mask up and puts his hand through the hair.

"you first".

Mr. Lee tugs you along and you leave into the short path leading to the car, trying not to look to the sides, but also, don't appear too scared. Vicky is at your shoulder. a dozen unhurried steps, and you jump inside the black suv, and the door slides closed behind you. you can see Yoongi emerge then, walking slowly to the purple ribbons who separate him from the people. he signs something, shakes hands, turns around to get into the camera shot, then moves on. about three minutes later, the door slides open again, and Mr. Lee puts his hand up to protect his head, as he gets inside.

"looted some food", he laughs, showing you crackers packs. they make you giggle for some reason.

you ride through the evening Pohang, already dark and still mysterious to your eye. been here only once, haven't memorized much except for a veinous-looking bridge and a giant hand reaching out from the sea. the car only takes you to the hotel where you lose everybody except Yoongi.

you think about one of the songs from your long-abandoned U N7 playlist, while the rental seamlessly slides along the highway. they didn't take away his license after all, only fined him a hefty amount; Vicky paid it without him having to remind her. the yellowish-white flower-shaped lights fly by the road so quickly that they turn into a garland, and the peace inside the car is so good-natured that it's almost unbearable. you thought you had Yoongi in your life as a character, years ago, but now he is really here, consciously. he is slow. he lives unhurriedly, eats without haste, takes his time to think, falls in love slowly. you barely speak on the way to Busan, he only yawns a couple of times and asks if there are any crackers left. you hum along with the music, and he pulls the skirt of your dress up you knees to see the scars from two months ago. now it's a light crust, small cuts covered in dark-red rough skin in the shape of the shards of a meteor. he needs to leave again in the morning, quite early because it's now a road back from Busan; by midnight you're at home, and he walks over to the back yard first, to see the pear trees. Komangi is wandering there like the mythological spirit that is getting ready to offer him a wisdom or a task; Yoongi picks up a couple of pears and walks back, satisfied.

the whole time you're feeling like you were going to trap him with the dress, but instead, as usual, he traps you; his hands easy and skilful with the knife above the table, he cuts the pear into small pieces and puts them in his mouth. it's pale-yellowish-green, very similar to the tiles in the bathroom on the first floor of his house. you feel connection to everything now.

"you want some?"

you open your mouth and he puts there a little piece of the pear. as your teeth work it, you're reminded of the supreme quality of the tree-grown garden fruit. so, that's why they all like the confiture so much. there's been a lot of sun this summer and autumn; September is still hot, with rains coming much later in the month. Komangi enters the kitchen and rubs himself against your leg, and you reach down to caress him on the lean back.

"i love you", Yoongi says, peeling the skin off the pear butt. your hand lightly taps the table, and you both look away. the unwillingness for the direct eye contact unites you.

"i was going to say it about three years ago, but i decided you'd slap the soul out of me".

you lean against the wall as Komangi leaves your side for the food bowl.

"smart".

the kitchen is pretty dark, the only light is the golden glimmer from the back yard. you feel comfortable like this; this apartment has been awesome. kitchen smells like your perfume: fruity and sweet.

"Busan didn't help", you muse, "i am still obsessed with you".

"oh, thank god", he drops the knife and the pear and pushes the chair away as his body rises. Yoongi steps to you and bows, finding your mouth with his sweet heart-shaped lips. you put the palm to the side of his face, tenderly, and he leans in.

Yoongi lowers himself and sits on your lap, keeping half of his weight on his toes, so you can breathe and wrap your arms around him.

actually you think he's been very calculating about it.

the cold nonchalance of his lewd offer a year ago, the gradual new habit of having him near, the kinks in place of conversations, the rare meetings and business texts, might have all been parts of his scheme. HESCGC.

you've been loving him in the way that would've made it impossible to have him, for six and a half years. the person who fell in love with him now, in a little more than twelve months, is a different person. less prone to romanticizing feelings. more cautious but less self-hating. the people who met almost a decade ago are different people now. Yoongi has always been smart and you don't care to ask him whether he was purposefully creeping up on you steadily and slowly. it doesn't matter. his face pressed into your palm, the weight of him crushing your lap, he is now here. yours. Jungkook's hand in yours under the plum-dark night sky in Prague, drizzle sobering you up. the tapioca boy was probably the best thing that did happen to you.

taglist: @ktownshizzle , @benyhime , @ryryvna , @amarawayne , @mar-lo-pap , @lili-spots , @kiki-zb

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

Look me in the eyes, without flinching, and tell me that life is worth living. Go on, tell me; I'll laugh, if you seem serious, and offer you a cigarette if you don't. We've all been there, honey.

I know I look jaded, but then, don't we all? The pretty girls who tried so hard to stay pretty until we couldn't, and then the whirlwind moved on and left us desolate?

Oh, I know there are things more lasting than parties, more steady than nylons and more eternal than lipstick. I know they exist. But not for me; they exist for someone else, someone who is worth it. I'm not. Don't you see me? A worn out husk? I can't just go back and tell anyone, Oh yes, I understand now, please forgive me. Even if they did, I wouldn't deserve it. I can't take that; I can't pretend for the rest of my life.

It might be better to find a bridge, or a rope, or any one of the many methods long offered as convenient ways out of all this mess. It would certainly be easier. Then again, life isn't supposed to be easy, is it?

I think it was, once. When I was a child; when I grew gently. Then it felt easy and kind, but now I've looked behind the curtain. The jig is up. Humpty-Dumpty lies in pieces, but there are no horses or men to even try to put him back together.

Look me in the eyes and say it isn't normal to be desperately unhappy. Go on! I dare you! Tell me these lies and make believe for an instant that they are really truths, and not the sugar-glazed lies I've come to choke on. I suspect my sister believed the lies completely; a girl snatched from the world too soon to have it break around her. I'm glad. Does that make me horrible? To have seen her still whole and still lit up with joy, and rejoice, really rejoice, that it faded into empty clay and not shattered glass?

If you won't have the cigarette, I will; I can't stand someone looking at me like that. I think you still have hope, don't you? Like Lucy did? Like Peter did, and like Edmund fought for? But you still have it.

They all died. The same old story; everyone dies. Everything worth caring about is snatched away, so what's the point? I demand an answer; tell me the point of keeping on going.

Why is it so hard to light a simple cigarette? Why are my hands shaking so much? Oh, do you know how long it's been since I last cried? If you don't care, you don't cry and you don't hurt and you learn that it's normal. Don't you know that? How could you do this to me?

It is cruel of you: cruel to look at me with those eyes and tell me things I've long since learned are false. You don't even have to speak. I know what you're thinking, what you're saying. Stop. Please. I can't bear it. Give me something I can believe, or give me what I deserve. This isn't funny anymore, if it ever was.

Don't you know the resounding pointlessness of life; can't you tell how much it hurts to be reminded that I believed something else, once? Let me go; or if you won't let up, at least give me the threadbare comfort of a bridge. Nobody else knows how many times I've looked down those vast expanses and imagined the most final choice I could make. Taking control of my destiny, I suppose.

I almost would say I hate you sometimes. I know who you are now. Oh, this cigarette just won't light; never mind it all. It doesn't matter. But I don't think I quite hate you; just myself.

Do you hate me?

Do you hate me as much as I despise myself?

I wish you would answer me, and stop looking at me so. I wish you would stop offering me whatever you're offering. All right, I know what you're looking at me with. But I tell you, I'm long past love. I don't do rest. I can't handle hope, or purpose, or even future. The moment is quite overwhelming enough for me, thanks.

What would you say if I said I was sorry? Would you say anything at all, or would you just wait there, in silence, like you're doing now? What would you say if I said I was drowning in regret? This isn't a time to remember Jeremiah and the friends who dragged him out. I wish it was all that simple. I am drowning here, but it's too late for me.

Why are you looking at me as if you think it isn't too late?

I am so afraid.

What would you say, if I were to come back?

I know what I would say to you (if). I would say, please do not forsake me again.

Oh, but I know what you would say to that, as if you were speaking directly to me like you did when I was younger. You'd say, I never forsook you. Maybe you'd even say, you have been listening to fears, child.

And maybe, if that happened, I'd listen to you.

[wqlfstqr]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ my current boyfriend trend with jason grace

Jason doesn't mind you being on your phone. He doesn’t understand those things at all. But he only knows you like recording little things through your day, talking to the camera— and you look cute doing it, too, so he never says anything against it.

So when you set your phone across from both of you on the bed, his head resting on your legs, he doesn't ask any questions. He simply keeps reading his book. Comfortable, relaxed.

Until you press record.

"Okay, so today I thought I'd show you this bracelet my current boyfriend got for me from his last trip." you show the camera your bracelet, grinning from ear to ear as if you don't know exactly what you're doing.

Jason pauses, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. But since he's not sure he heard right, he simply keeps reading, not wanting to interrupt you.

But you, of course, do it again. "My current boyfriend Jason travels a lot, and this time he was gone for a really long time, so I missed him a lot."

He finally sets the book down, slightly sitting up to look at you with genuine concern in his eyes. "Sweetheart, why are you calling me that?"

You blink at him innocently. "Calling you what?"

"Current." He says it like it's even painful to say out loud. "You said it twice."

"But aren't you my current boyfriend?" You tilt your head. "I mean, you are my boyfriend currently, at this point in time."

Jason looks stunned to say the least, and even a little offended as he sighs, dropping his head back on your legs again. "See, it sounds like i'm just here on some kind of trial period while you find my replacement. I don't like it."

You can't help it, you finally laugh, but Jason doesn't seem to find it as funny as you do. "You call me current one more time, and I'm gonna propose just to prove a point."

That finally catches you off guard, your cheeks burning with heat. "And what point exactly will you try to prove?"

"That i'm here forever, if someone tries to come between that I'll just deal with him." He smirks at you, clearly enjoying making you flustered. "Simple."

"You can't just say that." You tell him, but now you're smiling brightly at him, your heart speeding up.

"Yes I can, I already planned even the color our house will be." He tells you matter-of-factly, then he turns his gaze to your phone still recording as if it had personally done something to him. "I'm here forever."

"Got a little too serious for a silly video." You tease him, trying to hide how much you're cheesing over his words.

"I'm always serious about you." Jason replies simply, like it's the only thing in the world he would never put in doubt.

That does it. Your breath catches. Your smile widens. "Jase."

He smiles at the way you say his name, then brings your hand to his lips to press a soft kiss against your knuckles. "Don't 'Jase' me, I'm telling the truth."

"You're so dramatic." You roll your eyes, but you can't stop smiling.

"And yours" He says without any hesitation, his fingers trailing along the edge of your bracelet. "And not just 'Currently', I'll marry you someday, got it?"

You open your mouth, then close it again, your cheeks burning and your heart almost jumping out of your chest as if it's trying to answer for you.

"Got it." You nod, leaning to press a kiss on his forehead.

Jason's smile softens, his blue eyes shine as he looks at you. "So about our future house colors..."

[cybermannete]

hampstead. - simon riley

what's wrong with a little bit of poison?

(contains: allusions to smut, HEAVY angst, a breakup, he's too old for you, arguing, rough breakup)

I left my heart at a pub in Hampstead

And I misplaced my mind in a good way

You were at a pub with your friends, your best friend having her bachelorette party. You remember being lightly hazy, your mind clouded with alcohol and being giggly with your friends. Across the way, you noticed the brooding stranger. Broad shoulders, sunken tired eyes, calloused hands. He himself was with his equally as broad friends. He was handsome, the kind of handsome that you'd read dark romances about.

Threw away my reputation but saved us more heartache,

Yes I know it seems fucked up and you're right

"So.. do all soldiers go out drinking off duty?" You asked him, noticing how he just barely glanced over his shoulder at you. Upon closer examination of his face, you could tell he was a good 10, 15 years your senior.

A gruff chuckle left him, and he shook his head as he nursed his little glass of whiskey. He sighed, "Do you always talk to strangers in a bar?" His tone sounded condescending.

You shrug, cocking your head and giving a small smirk to him. "Only big brooding men who look like they've seen better days."

You got another laugh out of him with that one, his eyes glimmering with amusement at your sharp tongue. "Are you even s'pposed to be drinkin' in bars? You're.. what, 20?"

It was your time to laugh, and you turn your body to face him. "Ha ha. No, I'm 25. Perfectly legal." You hold out a hand, silently praying for him to shake it. "(Y/N), by the way."

After a brief pause, the man reaches out and clasps your hand in his. HIs hand was cold, and you could feel each individual scar on his skin. ".. Simon Riley."

︵𝄄 ׄ 𓈒 ❤︎ 𓈒 ׄ 𝄄︵

But quite frankly, you're still wrong about everything

So far off, your seat's nowhere near the table

"Wait- How old is he?!" Your best friend exclaims, stopping in her tracks as you two walked down the sidewalk after a small shopping trip.

You sigh, shaking your head and rubbing your temples. you were having this discussion for the millionth time. First time with your parents, now with your friends. This never got easier. Your voice stayed calm though. "He's.. about to be 40. But hold on, hear me out-"

Your friend interrupted you with a shocked laugh, "(Y/N), I love you so much. I really do. But let me just say, that this age gap is.. it's pushing it, you know?" She spoke, doing her best to stay kind but also firm. "You're not even 30 yet, and he's about to reach the age where.. you know he can't.. get it up."

Your cheeks immediately turn red, and you widen your eyes. Lucky for you, he's been able to get it up juuust fine. You shake your head, laughing a bit. "Whoa- Hold on- that's not what matters here. Sex is not on my list right now. Look, Simon's a very nice guy, he takes care of me, and-"

Your friend grabbed your shoulders, "What about a year from now, (Y/N)? What about five years? Ten years? Twenty years, if he even makes it that long!" You pause, the concept beginning to sway in your mind.

"Look, the future isn't something we're looking at." You answer, your voice remaining calm despite the small tremble that lodged in your throat. "It's still a relatively new thing, and I.. long term stuff just isn't on the bucket list."

Your friend stopped for a bit, and she took a deep breath. Her eyes softened as she nodded. ".. alright." Her voice was warm, and she seemed to back off from the topic. "I'm sorry. I just want you to be okay if this doesn't work out."

You nod, patting her arm with a reassuring smile. "I will be."

After all, you had no reason to worry things wouldn't work out.

︵𝄄 ׄ 𓈒 ❤︎ 𓈒 ׄ 𝄄︵

But I find something sweet in your peculiar behavior

'Cause I think to be so dumb must be nice

I do, I do, I do, I do..

His rough hands rub your back as he holds you in bed, your naked form curled up against his so perfectly. His arms always felt like home to you. You shut your eyes in content, and you press a kiss to his worn face. His eyes flutter open, and his sunken eyes settle on you, and all of a sudden he's just a little bit more alive.

".. you thinkin' about somethin', love?" He asks, his voice dripping with grogginess.

You shake your head, your lips quirking into a gentle warm smile that makes his heart jump a bit. Your voice chimes in, and he's home once more. "Nono, I'm not. Sorry." You chuckle.

He tightens his grip on you, and he nuzzles his face into your hair, allowing himself to breathe your scent. Familiar, kind. Every time he holds you and breathes in your scent, he can only imagine doing this with you for the rest of his life. Waking up to you in the morning, spending time cooking breakfast, taking too long in the shower for sex, tending to a garden outside of a house together, maybe a dog.. the classic domestic, stable lifestyle he craved when he was young.

He pauses for a second. Reality seemed to smack him in the face. He wasn't getting any younger, and you were.. you were at that age where people wanted to start settling down. The muscles in his arm tensed a bit. Why did that thought make him feel so.. odd? Anxious. Like a dark premonition he had just came true.

For now, he'd keep quiet. And he'd just enjoy.. you.

︵𝄄 ׄ 𓈒 ❤︎ 𓈒 ׄ 𝄄︵

What makes you think you're even invited?

The doors are closed with lights off inside and all the while

There's no one home, you're still outside

I wonder why

He dropped your hand. You were at dinner with his friends, and he dropped your hand the minute you tried to grab it. You felt sick to your stomach. Was he not proud to show you off to his friends? Was he embarrassed because you were much younger? He didn't even look at you when you grabbed his hand. He just.. dropped it.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?!" You exclaim as you both stepped inside of your apartment, slamming the door.

Simon looks at you with that time hardened glare, his voice remaining calm yet firm. "Calm down. Nothing happened."

"Calm down?!" You yell, storming up to him and glaring at him with pure, angry confusion. "You dropped my fucking hand! What do you mean nothing happened?!"

He groaned, shutting his eyes and tilting his head back in exasperation. He huffed a breath through his nose. "It didn't mean anything, I wasn't thinking, and- and it just happened."

You gave a humorless laugh, shaking your head as she walked to a hook on the wall to hang up your purse. "Of course. You weren't thinking. Bravo, clever excuse. 'You weren't thinking'." He had never heard your voice this harsh before.

"Hey. Get off my back, yeah?" Simon shot back, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. "You're thinking way too deep into this one little issue."

You whip your head around, "What the hell is going on with you?!" Finally. You wanted answers. The distance. The dropping of your hand. He was such a gentleman to you during the first stage of your relationship. And now .. he wasn't there anymore. "You're a completely different man than when I first met you, and it's pissing me off! Can you just- tell me what's going on?!"

The apartment was so silent. The air just.. felt so heavy. A deep crack had formed between you two, and it was suffocating you. You didn't want to fight. You just wanted answers. And you wanted this to work.

".. You're too young."

The words hit you like a truck. Too young. Your brain hurt trying to comprehend all of this. You scoff, "Excuse me?"

He huffed, shaking his head. "You heard me. I said. You're. Too. Young."

"What the actual fuck are you blabbering about? What do you mean I'm 'too young'? You never brought this up before."

You could see the frustration in his gaze. "Look, lovie. I love you so much. I didn't think I'd ever love someone as much as I love you." Then he looked at you, reaching out and taking your hands in his. ".. But. I'm getting older. And I can't give you the future you want."

Your expression softened, and you feel your heart lodge in your throat. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. This wasn't supposed to happen. You could feel your breathing grow heavier out of panic. And you murmur. "No, no.. we.. we can stay like this. We don't have to do anything-" "But that's not what you want, (Y/N)." His voice sounded like a scolding father. "You want it all. A marriage. A couple of kids. But.." He trailed off. "That's just not something that I can give you. You and I both know that."

Tears well up in your eyes, and you do your best to swallow your pride. He was right. The future you wanted wasn't meant to be with him. As much as you wanted it to be. You sniffle a bit. You murmur. ".. hold me."

He tugs you closer, his arms caging you against his frame and he sighs. He murmurs against your ear. ".. Of course, lovie."

︵𝄄 ׄ 𓈒 ❤︎ 𓈒 ׄ 𝄄︵

What's wrong with a little bit of poison, tell me

I would rather feel everything than nothing everytime

You kept opening your phone, staring at your home screen. You deeply hoped for a phone call.. a text message, anything. As you lay in your bed clutching one of his old shirts that are stained with your tears.

Your friend stopped by and visited you, sleeping in your bed with you and letting you sob into her shoulder. She wanted you to block his number, get rid of everything that had his name or presence written all over it. But you couldn't. It was too painful..

One night, she dragged you out of your bed, back to that old pub. As you drank, you lightened up. And at one point, you lifted your head, and saw him sitting across the pub, right where you first met him. As he met your gaze, you could see the sheer turmoil in his eyes. But at the same time, there was a warm affection.

He then gives you a smile.

In a split moment, you felt warm again. You release a breath, and return his smile.

You were going to be okay.

︵𝄄 ׄ 𓈒 ❤︎ 𓈒 ׄ 𝄄︵

Fear me, stranger, a little bit of sugar, danger

I'd rather be seen and alive than dying by your point of view

I do, I do, I do, I do

︵𝄄 ׄ 𓈒 ❤︎ 𓈒 ׄ 𝄄︵

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: Happily Divorcing You

Summary: (Y/N)'s sister is in town, and she HATES Ivar.

Pairing: Not telling

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

‘Can you fucking believe him?!’ (Y/S/N) seethed as she flopped back onto the mattress, her leg bouncing in irritation.

‘Yes…that’s who, or what he is; whatever the hell my husband is.’ you said, breathless from your blow up.

‘Don’t call him that, it makes me sick. Anyway forget about him, you look great, after I do your make up it won’t matter how rich we are, men will be falling over themselves to buy you a drink.’ the younger sister encouraged.

‘Thanks, but I just want to not be here; no guys tonight…maybe we can just go out to eat instead.’ you suggested pointlessly.

‘Absolutely not, you are drinking and dancing to loud annoying music while men imagine being with you tonight. I said so, it's a fact.’ your sister shrugged.

You let out a breathless laugh at her antics and for a second you felt a rush of happiness that made your legs weak.

‘Hey?’ (Y/S/N) said looking at you in concern as she crossed the room to get to you by the door.

‘You OK?’ she asked seriously.

‘Yeah, I just missed you I think… I love that you get to do what you love traveling, I really do but God I miss this. Talking with my sister about the shit I deal with everyday. Thought I wouldn’t get to do it aga-’

‘Stop.’ (Y/S/N) interrupted quickly.

You froze, cursing yourself for getting too comfortable speaking your thoughts aloud and ruining the mood just as (Y/S/N) was beginning to lighten it.

‘When Mama told me you were finally giving him the papers I waited for her to start singing hymns, when she told me how bad it got before you finally made the decision… I got on the flight before she could finish talking.’

You wanted to bury yourself alive at the thought of your mom telling someone about how far you let things go before you decided to leave, but it was your sister. Of course your mother told her, if the roles were reversed then you would hope for nothing less.

‘I’m sorry.’ you apologized

Your sister waved away your apologies as she walked you back to the bed and sat you down; she held your hands in hers the way you two always did when it was sister talk time.

‘I’m not a professional or a therapist so I don’t know what the right thing to say is, but I need you to know it doesn't matter where in the world I am. Whenever you call me I will answer, and when you need me here I will be waiting for you at the airport.’ (Y/S/N) said firmly, keeping watery eye contact as she squeezed your hand.

You thanked her through barely contained sobs as you two hugged, you had missed her while she was away, but you really missed this. Talking without thinking about how you sound, because no matter what you’re saying the other person is listening. They wouldn’t dismiss you or scold you for wasting their time with stupid questions that could have just been a text.

‘It's so suffocating here, it feels like I’m drowning in every room of this house. I thought I would finally get away from here when I handed him the papers. I don’t know why Ivar won’t just sign, but I don’t- I can’t spend another second trying and failing to be Ivar Ragnarson’s wife.’ you said as you two separated.

‘No more talk about him, he’s given you enough wrinkles from what I can see. Come on, let’s get you ready for your first night back out on the scene.’ (Y/S/N) said as she pulled you over the vanity.

As she fussed over your makeup application you let her take control, it had been ages since you’d done your own makeup. Ivar would hire a makeup artist if he needed you to attend any events, Freydis.

Freydis was a friend of Magrethe’s and she seemed to be an expert at applying makeup that didn’t compliment your features and often wasn’t even your shade. You would watch her every move, nervous about how bad it would look in the group pictures; but you trusted your sister so you just relaxed.

Your head was still stuck on the argument with Ivar and your heart was still moved by your sister’s show of support. So you decided to play some music to not only distract yourself from spiraling, but to also hear at least some songs you liked before the club music assaulted your ears.

Normally you would play it in your headphones, because Ivar would get random “work calls” from Margrethe and he didn’t want the noise, but this time you connected to the speaker your sister brought.

The speaker was small, but what it lacked in size it made up for in sound quality and volume, every instrument felt alive and the vocals were loud enough to drown out your voice singing along.

‘AC/DC? God, you are so old.’ (Y/S/N) scoffed as she sat aside the setting spray and declared her masterpiece complete.

‘AC/DC isn’t old, they’re timeless.’ you argued before you opened your eyes to look at the finished product.

(Y/S/N) had remembered the way you liked your makeup, soft glam and she had used your favorite color, blue, for the eyeshadow. The foundation was the right shade, it wasn’t cakey or creasing, everything was blended and the contour could probably cut glass.

‘Wow.’ you said in awe.

‘I know, haven’t seen this cutie in a while, huh? Do your hair while I get ready, and could you at least play the funny song I like by them?’ she pleaded as she went back into the bedroom to get her own cocktail dress.

‘Big balls, next in the queue.’ you agreed as you adored your reflection.

‘Hello me. It’s been a long time.’ you said to yourself before you started styling your hair. The time flew by as you just let your playlist take over; you and (Y/S/N) singing along as you pregamed happily with the bottle of tequila she brought from Mexico.

You had been tapering off your antidepressants for a while now so you were ready to finally just drink and have a good time without feeling Ivar’s critical gaze. Soon your sister was in her jumpsuit, both of you had your hair and makeup done, it was time to go.

Of course leaving would mean opening the door and walking past Ivar, and you’d rather swallow melted glass.

‘Come on, let's go, if he says something just keep walking. Just because he’s talking he doesn’t mean you listen.’ (Y/S/N) said, seeing your hesitation to leave the guest room.

You knew she was right, all you had to do was keep your feet moving until you closed the front door. It didn’t feel that simple though, you could still feel the same urge to pull at the hem of your dress that ate at you when Ivar insulted you.

More than that you could feel every insult he’d ever given you while dragging you to formal events that you hated.

“I’ve never seen something so expensive look so bad, but we don’t have time for you to change.”

“There will be cameras and this is a very important dinner, don’t stand too close to me in the photos.”

"What am I even paying for? It seems even a professional makeup artist can’t make you presentable.”

‘You’re right, let’s go before we miss happy hour.’ you said firmly as you grabbed your purse.

You remembered your therapist’s words; take a step back and look objectively. You were not whatever your husband thought of you, his opinions are not facts. Were your clothes and makeup ill fitted? Yes, but that didn’t make you any less attractive.

Before you could start second guessing yourself again you opened the door, luckily Ivar hadn’t been waiting on the other side.

A breath of relief fell from your lips before you made your way downstairs, and you stopped when you saw Ivar waiting for you by the front door.

He was dressed to go out, even his club wear was tailored custom, his accessories picked to compliment the dark color of his slacks and the top three buttons of his light blue shirt were undone.

Ivar was an attractive man; there was simply no denying it, but you had stopped seeing his appearance years ago. What good is it to have a handsome husband who hates you?

‘Where are we going?’ he asked.

‘You can go to hell, we aren’t telling you shit.’ your sister said coldly, you could see she was beginning to lose her own patience with Ivar as she made her way downstairs while you stayed stuck where you stood.

‘Oh really? Because I’m almost certain I was talking to my wife.’ Ivar replied, his eyes sharp as he accepted your sister’s challenge.

‘My sister…and in case you forgot, her own fucking person! Outside of being my sister and your unfortunate wife, she is a FUCKING PERSON!’ (Y/S/N) shouted, stepping into Ivar's space.

‘(Y/S/N)!’ you shouted, getting their attention off of each other.

You needed to separate these two before things escalated further, another few minutes and you were sure your little sister was going to actually start a fight. Luckily in the next second you got the notification that your ride was here.

‘The Uber is outside, I’ll meet you in one second.’

She looked like she wanted to argue but you gave her a look that you hoped said “I got this” and she sighed before walking past Ivar, purposefully shoulder checking him on the way out.

Ivar let out an unamused breath of laughter as he watched her leave, then he turned back to you.

‘You’re really putting on a performance for your family (Y/N).’ he started.

‘There is no performance, it wouldn’t be worth it if it was; and you know it. Even right now you don’t actually care, it's just that this is the first time I’m doing something without your permission and you hate it.’ you said, with your voice even and your knuckles white from holding on to the railing of the stairs.

Ivar rolled his eyes and something snapped, everything your therapist had told you about how bottling things up always led to a blowout turned out to be true.

‘Stop rolling your Goddamn eyes whenever I speak, I hardly ever do so it can’t be that annoying to hear my voice.’ you said as you finally came down the stairs.

Tonight was supposed to be your first night out having fun in four years and Ivar would not ruin it like he ruined everything you enjoyed, everything that you were when you met him.

Ivar pulled his hand out of his pocket and threw something orange and plastic at your feet once you reached the bottom of the stairs. You looked at it and saw it was one of your pill bottles.

‘Prescribed two months ago and the bottle is full.’ he stated as if he had solved some mystery.

‘You’re off your meds, take them, and start acting like you have common sense again.’ he ordered.

‘The only reason I needed those is because of you, and now that I’m done with you and this marriage I’m done with those too.’

Ivar somehow found a way to look even more annoyed than before.

‘You can’t play around with prescription drugs you idiot, that’s why they haven’t been effective. Did you ever think of that?’ he argued.

You picked up the bottle and let out a dry laugh.

‘If you bothered to look at the label you would see that these are the pills for my appetite, of course we never had our “important” meeting with Floki so I won’t blame you for not knowing better.’ you said casually, as if you never expected the meeting to happen.

‘It doesn’t matter, you don’t need to be out drinking when you are on medication.’

‘I’m not stupid Ivar, I’m not boozing up on a belly full of pills.’ you dismissed as you went to walk past him, but he grabbed your arm to stop you walking.

‘Let. Go.’

You said it once, and you didn’t yell but you sent Ivar a look so severe that even he followed your directions for once.

‘Even if they are just appetite stimulants you should take them.’ Ivar said, looking down at your body.

‘You have lost more than enough weight and I don’t need people saying I don't take care of you.’

And this time you actually did really laugh; big, loud and unashamed as you nearly doubled over. You had to hold onto the stair rail just to keep from falling over because you were laughing so hard.

Ivar looked like he was watching you grow a second head right in front of him.

‘Oh my God, of course that’s why you’re worried. If anyone has a problem with me starving myself to death I’ll be sure to tell them you provided me plenty of grocery money. Better now?’ you dismissed as again tried to leave.

And again Ivar stopped you, grabbing your arm harder than the first time.

‘Why are you being so difficult now? Asking for divorce, bad mouthing me to your family, opening a business behind my back, trying to run around the city half fucking dressed?’

This time you snatched your arm out his grip and you could see his hand print still there, it might even bruise.

‘You really want to know? I’ll tell you. Because you have object permanence issues when it comes to me.’

‘What are you even talking about now?’ he sighed, rubbing his face the way he did when he was annoyed beyond comprehension.

‘You treat me the way I treat those pills; yeah I keep them visible and easy to find with all my important things, but I don’t take them. Because food doesn't bring me any joy anymore. I hate food now; the smell, the sound of chewing it, being full and feeling empty. Why would I take something that makes me do what I hate?’

Ivar stood stunned breathless.

‘You hate me Ivar and I am fine with that now; really I am, but I’m not going to stay in your medicine cabinet until I expire.'

BEEP BEEP

The Uber honked his horn outside and you turned to the door to finally leave.

‘Where are you going?’ Ivar asked one last time.

‘Good Night Ivar.’ she said before she left.

A sight Ivar never wanted to see again.

[riteliso]

S01E11

I don't really have anything to say about this it's just another of those brief shots and she's glaring at Adora down the hall and I think it's neat

She still fuckin does not like She-ra at all

I bet I could make this whole episode's analysis about how Catra glares at Adora but y'know that's because there's something wrong with both me and the people behind the show because I bet you it'll happen at least five more times this episode, probably more like eight

I'll keep track, so far we're at 2. I don't promise to get screenshots of every time, though. Hey it might happen anyway I just don't promise.

Unlike the other runestones, it's portable :)

This does speak partially to the idea that She-ra is a protector of Etheria, not any one nation within it. She is not bound to any one place, nor are her powers, and as we learn later, nor is she as a concept.

I don't remember if it's gone over that the first one created the stone itself or just the sword? I'll keep an eye out.

"Oh she's gonna be stuck on this or a while, I can really just do whatever."

Girl we've all been there

I just like this face I like when the characters wear this expression

Also if I only ever point out Catra faces then idk I'll FEEL bad because Adora is pretty

Alright we're a little on the nose here

Also, hi.

I'd say "what if that wasn't Catra" but really what if that was anything, even when it IS Catra that's a bad move

There's no universe where twitch firing that fucking sword is acceptable in this situ--

In fact, give it here, I'm turning the safety on.

This watch through has actually been making me feel very nice. Save the Cat isn't some outlier or some return to how they were, Adora will always save Catra the moment the oppourtunity arises. Because she loves her.

I went over it in something I edited but I don't think that shows up in the full thread or whatever--

Adora saving Catra is a running theme in this show, as is Adora attempting to convince Catra to abandon the horde. Usually the two go hand in hand, and usually they can also be seen as a metaphor for being-- TOGETHER.

Catra doesn't want to be saved. She doesn't want to leave the Horde. She's very clear about that. Adora continuously pursues and rescues Catra despite her protests, and they hurt each-other with how they just-- ARE.

Catra despises being helped. But that doesn't matter, because if Catra doesn't recieve help, she still feels betrayed. She's not ready to be with Adora because her pride is way too spiky, slimy, and DISGUSTING for her to swallow.

She can't be with Adora because if she leaves to be with her and everything is okay, then it means Catra was wrong. And if it isn't okay, just like Catra fears-- then that's not really any better.

Now, is it okay for Adora to pursue Catra this way, if we add this additional meaning to it?

Fuckin-- I don't know, dude, okay

Catra is wrong and Adora knows she is. They love each-other and feel like the things keeping them apart are due to the other being WRONG.

So is it acceptable for Adora to constantly be putting Catra in situations she's uncomfortable with with the prospect of beginning a relationship, or at least CHANGING the relationship they CURRENTLY have?

In real life the answer would be an easy yes, even when the two DO love each-other.

But this is a romance, so-- no?

It's like when some grandpa says they asked the cashier out 80 times until they eventually said yes and eventually got married

Like yeah it's ridiculous and creepy kinda

But I mean it-- IS romantic. Stupid, but romantic.

And besides, if a grandma said that about another grandma I'd be like "hell yeah" this is affected by personal biases lesbians get to be mean and weird and cryptic okay THEYRE ALLOWED I DONT CARE THAT IT'S A DOUBLE STANDARD

They really do argue like lesbians too

And if you think I'm just saying things you're wrong

I can literally hear "Clearly nothing in here is listening to me" in my girlfriend's voice so effortlessly

You are SUCH A BITCH and I HATE THAT I DO WHAT YOU DO

When nobody else can see them they're a normal couple if I'm honest

Don't--

Do NOT read into my personal life based on what I post here for all intents and purposes I am playing a character I'm larping keep your distance shut up and you're stupid

Does your mom know you're gay

"So you snuck out to see me?"

I didn't realize that that's what she was implying until now

She knows this isn't a mission Catra was sent on now and so she's hoping that that's at least PART of the reason she's here

On the left we have "fuck me" eyes and on the right we have "fuck you" eyes

Were you expecting a sorry

Did you think she was gonna sneak out and APOLOGISE TO YOU??

OH MY GOD THAT'S SO FUNNY

EVERY-- EVERYBODY LOOK AT THIS GIRL

SHE'S SO FUCKING STUPID

AW, WHAT A FUCKIN MORON

Oh god

I'm not even- HA!

I can't even insult you for this the situation itself is enough of an insult on its OWN LMAO

This is an awkward thing to say when I DUNNO IF YOU NOTICED BUT YOU'LL BE WALKING THE SAME DIRECTION FOR A BIT, DUMBASS

Next time you watch she-ra pay attention to the animation here because it's fucking awful and looks like dogshit

but it's okay because it's funny and doesn't happen often in this show

At least your bright-ass sword ALMOST has a use for once

ALRIGHT SO

Here's how we're doing things, right? We're gonna go one episode at a time, and I'm gonna give my thoughts whenever they come up. This is a train of thought type beat, alright? Unlike my usual grandstanding authorial and analytical self, this re-watch is purely for the rant factor. If you don't know me, and you just happened upon this thread because you like reading she-ra rewatches, hello. I'm a writer from Canada who found she-ra in 2025 and is currently on her sixth watch through. From that, hopefully you can discern that I like this show, even if I'm likely gonna criticize parts of it. We good to go? Good. We start with S01 E01.

RIGHT, THE SWORD PART 1! A zoom in, with an angelic singing being drowned out by digital bloopy fright zone vibes, and then Adora being a fuckin dweeb as her leitmotif plays in a decidedly crystiline synth-y tone.

Now, what do we learn from this? This, aside from one gripe I'll have more to speak on later, is an excellent introduction. With the music alone we're essentially taken from the beauty of the planet, the overwhelming dread of the fright zone, and then into a hopeful tune that isn't FREE from these sort of digital themes in the music, but is very defined and separate FROM them.

This isn't gonna be one of those things where I praise literally every single fuckin thing so keep your panties on, I'm not gonna full-on overanalyzing avatar this shit, but the most important parts of a story are the beginning and the ending.

Now, when I say that, I am speaking pragmatically. Every part of every story is important-- but when it comes to what people remember, what they love, what they never shut up about-- it's the start and the end. You need to nail the take-off and the landing, people will forget the turbulence from the rest of the trip.

Now, what does THIS bitch's intro tell us about her? Well, a lot, honestly. Most of what we know about Adora at this point is she plays by the rules, but she is a notably goofy person. She's goofy, but she's unwilling to goof-OFF too much.

And while we get a taste of the rivalry they have instantly, with "That's low, even for you." "You know nothing's too low for me~"

We instantly see that that is not the CORE of their relationship.

I'd like to praise the voice direction in this show for the first of many times here. The voice actors do amazing work in this, and the direction can be felt throughout.

"Come on, you look stupid hanging there" can obviously be a seen as a strange first line to show the warmth these two share, but the inflection from Catra's voice actor, AJ Mikalcha, makes it read as downright sweet.

Also don't get used to me using names of the crew besides ND Stevenson because I'm so awful with names I was still calling Catra Katara half the time on my second re-watch and I was like 90% of the way to realizing I kinned her at that point

Also don't make fun of me for kinning Catra there's no RESPONSE to people making fun of you for kinning Catra THAT DOESN'T MAKE YOU SEEM MORE LIKE FUCKING CATRA OKAY

Anyway, the following scene makes it clear that this is not a one-way dynamic. The two banter, and it's clear Adora knows how to get under Catra's skin and annoy her as well. This is notable in a few places MUCH further on, but it is a difference worth highlighting NOW.

Once Adora leaves, Catra's primary goal is still to get under her skin. She's angry about it, she's mean about it, but she's still just doing what she's always done. The relationship between the two doesn't actually change as much as the context does. I'd say the relationship itself doesn't change much until the final season, at a scene I'm sure I'll have a lot to say about.

On the flip-side, Adora's goal when it comes to Catra is simply to fight her off. But that's not all there is. At points, it's clear that Adora holds some sort of REVERENCE for Catra, and while Catra is very capable of very mean things, don't get me wrong, Adora sees Catra as more of a threat than she realistically is.

At a few moments I'll point out she also relishes in getting under Catra's skin, but admittedly those are few and far between.

People have gone over this introduction billions of times, so I won't BORE you to death with it, but Shadow weaver's introduction does hint at a lot of what we'll learn later. I think it's very notable that while Shadow weaver brings a dark gloom that encompasses both our leads, her vile tendrils only dare to touch Catra. We learn the specifics of the dynamic these three have later, but it is a very unique and terrible situation to be the least favourite of an abusive guardian. Especially if you are repeatedly reminded of that fact.

I'm not gonna go over all the body language shit I've seen other text posts about it there's plenty of them a lot of focus in this show goes into tiny details where characters are constantly reacting to the world around them, and very rarely do we get lame stretches where anyone's face is just frozen and unflinching while they listen to someone else.

with all due respect to the setting at this point in time the bright moon rebellion is so pathetically anemic it's the two teens, some movie night lesbians, an immortal princess queen, and a bunch of fucking trees.

And you'd think the one carrying the team would be THE IMMORTAL PRINCESS QUEEN, BUT NO, ITS THE FUCKING TREES DOING ALL THE GOD DAMNED WORK

This introduction is fine. I don't particularly like it, nor have any strong feelings about it. It establishes the relationship between glimmer and her mother, but besides that it doesn't honestly do much. And don't come at me with "Uh, all it needs to do is establish that relationship?" Yeah, no shit, but we just had a better introduction to our other lead characters. And yes, those are the MAIN leads, the sort of heart of the show, but that doesn't mean that the other characters are unimportant. Glimmer's development later on is truly interesting, and Bow becomes a massively inspiring character. Fun jokey times are fine or whatever to show that they're immature and don't know the first thing about war, in contrast to our full-blown child soldiers raised from birth in the fright zone, but we really don't learn anything particularly INTERESTING about our best friend squad compadres in their intro, nor do we really see any of it until episode 2, to be frank.

This is something we don't actually see much of-- Catra has this ideal of being a conqueror, but it's very clear that she doesn't want that. Her threats are vapid and aimless-- She can enjoy some chaos, sure, but a shit-stirrer isn't gonna use that feces to build brick shithouses that they never intend to fall.

I think this should have been elaborated on more, personally. Catra is comically terrible with authority, and her plan, as stated later, is to wait it out until her and Adora are the ones calling the shots. But we don't really see what she thinks conquering even looks like, and it's not clear whether that's that she hasn't even imagined it and just likes evil words, or if she genuinely wants to rule with Adora as her Queen.

I gravitate towards the first, but that's partially because I wake up and post shit like "I want to destroy the world and rule its dust" and then forget I posted it when someone likes it 5 minutes later. If she do, in fact, as studies point toward, "be just like me fr," then I fully understand. If not, then I'd like to understand.

aw :(

Fuckin dweeb pulling the "my mom doesn't want me hanging out with you anymore" card

HA! Ah, what a bitch. Anyway, she's lashing out, but it's also quite tragic. A lot of people seem to think Adora IS, in some way, a people pleaser, but in reality she just has such an ingrained and violent sense of justice that she wants to right every wrong she has ever and will ever come across. She believes her validity is tied to what she can provide to the world, and she's got a natural sense of charisma, so it's natural for someone who refuses to blend in and naturally tends to put people off like Catra to have this view of her.

In reality, Adora is just-- a good person. And people LIKE good people. She's not a good person with an asterisk-- a good person with terms and conditions-- someone who falls into the definition of a good person while feeling and being treated like something else. Catra is the "a tomato is a fruit" of good people. Adora is just, like, a 1 dollar costco hotdog of a woman. An inarguable good treading water on this earth, no matter how hard it tries to pull her under.

Imagine falling for a brat with mad hops, like a fucking 50 foot vertical, you say you're too tired to play their favourite board game and they go hang out on your neighbour's roof, couldn't be me. Get fucked I guess

Yeah this is sad. Empathy is very much a learned skill, and people who don't learn empathy don't GET happy FOR people. Catra's not a complete person yet. She's not ready to be. That doesn't happen for a really long time, during an exceptionally long manic spiral. We'll get there, calm down, don't think about how far away that is and how much I've already yammered on.

Anyway, if you find yourself getting jealous or annoyed instead of getting happy for people, consider empathy isn't what you thought it was, and that you might still need to work on yourself.

fucking porno framing. Immensely sexual image, really. These bitches violently gay I suppose, I think I'm picking up on that during this sixth re-watch.

Buddy you got no idea how many problems those two already have you literally lose your little tiara at some point I think it ends up in the middle of a tree in space or something it's kinda unclear

Adora elbows her square in the nose during this so to everyone accusing Catra of physical abuse I just want it to be clear that Adora started it :/

Actually I'd like to retract that joke immediately because I know how people get about these two

My feelings are that they are literally child soldiers who were likely raised sparring each-other.

I was raised sparring other children and I ended up fine! Not for war, for Karate. And I didn't end up fine. And neither did they. Anyway, my point isn't even specifically that because this is sci-fi fantasy it's ridiculous to hold real life standards to it, it's more-so that because it's sci-fi fantasy there's extenuating circumstances that are going to affect how these two characters treat each-other. I'll go into hotter takes later, I'm sure, and get people to send me plenty of death-threats, but I'm gonna go into the nuances of exactly what forms Catra's abuse takes, and how it differs given by the separate circumstances we're shown the two in throughout the show.

my girl when I'm tryna live my best life playing as blue toad in mario 3d world

also holy shit we're only like halfway through this I am an AGONIZING yapper jesus fuck

Okay, what to say about lighthope-- well, their first words are "balance must be restored," far before they say Adora's name, so it somewhat lays out their secret priorities for us there. Besides that, I dunno, they got circuits on them? I don't have particularly strong feelings about lighthope, nor their introduction. I think they serve the setting and are written well, I just subjectively am not a sucker for the way they be. Their friendship with Mara is cute tho

I was gonna point out this is cute and how often I do this exact brat tactic but instead we data moshin, nothin wrong with a little data moshin, I'm down

This is the only reason she even wears a ponytail I'd stake my fuckin life on it

Once she leaves the fright zone that thing's fucking vestigial like a tailbone or having "any pronouns" in your bio when it's pretty clear you're very much a "she/they" type of bitch by now

glimmer why don't your windows have glass

or alternatively

how the fuck do you open and close that window

you can absolutely fucking hear her from this distance what on earth are you trying to pull

you a pillow princess tho how many of those arrows are just hitatchi magic wands attatched to a stick with duct-tape after the series ends do you think

The fuck you mean BOTTOM drawer we lookin at left and right here

or is this similar to my pillow princess comment and she's just addressing him and giving him an order

"Bottom; drawer."

It's established later on that he's a tech wiz but at this point in time they don't really give us much to lead us to the fact that he made that fucking thing

she's a freak

yes it's very sweet that she sleeps this way but I don't think it's some bdsm powerplay thing or anything like that, which would honestly be more tolerable, I think she's just like that

like how the way I'd sit in high school was to get two chairs and face them toward each-other then sit cross-legged across both

even if there weren't enough chairs to go around

people would sit on the FLOOR because I wanted to sit criss-cross-applesauce across two chairs, they wouldn't even ask for one of my chairs

also since I was sitting, again, cross-legged, it would have made more sense for ME to sit on the floor

I mean I think I got asked ONCE for one of the chairs and I just said "fine" but besides that people just let me sit on my fuckin throne

She really is kinda dumb, though. Like I ain't complaining, it's a character trait, but like obviously even if just you get in trouble Catra's gonna get blamed, you've seen it like at least once a month for your whole entire life

Mind you, can't really have Catra for the next part, because Catra's reaction to Bow and Glimmer wouldn't be "just let me have the sword" it'd be murder

oh wow we hit the image limit looks like we're doing TWO SEPARATE POSTS FOR THE VERY FIRST EPISODE YEE-HAW!!!!! THIS IS GOING TO TAKE ME FUCKING FOREVER

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

I know that people are rarely their best selves at a funeral, but do you ever just watch your family move through the process of mourning the Patriarch and have a sudden and violent and vivid understanding of Why Everyone Is The Way They Are

[sergle]

wheomstever fumbled Queen Titania of the Fairy Realm reincarnated lfg herself (you) is a DUNCE, a tawdry tacky little FOOL and plain old IDIOT. You are talented, caring, intelligent, hilarious... I'd be STUMBLING over myself tom and jerry style to impress you. You deserve to be with someone who has the BALLS to speak clearly to you about your relationship, who can be honest about what they want, need, feel. How they want to be with you. Etc. You deserve at least 20 beaufriends, no... 30. MINIMUM! MAYBE MORE! B ut the bottom line is this absolute WEENIE of an individual sounds like a total cunt and isn't worth losing your life over. They're a loser. Your life is priceless, and not worth losing over someone who can't even fucking break up with you to your face. They! Are! Not! Worth it! Or worthy of you! And it would be a travesty if you let their BOO BOO CLOWN SHOES treatment convince you to give up all the magic that you are for someone who probably can't order chicken nuggets without having a panic attack because that's the vibes they're giving sorry i don't make the rules

what's difficult about my ex is like... I've seen people joking "the receptionist at heaven looking at the guy you killed yourself for and laughing" and stuff like that, that's not how this is. if I showed people a picture of the person who broke my heart, they'd go "damn. I'm sorry." like. they are hot. they are liked. people have always liked them, people like them now, people will like them after this. They will, almost definitely, have an extremely happy and successful life without me. They get hit on like 40 times a week, so they won't have trouble getting another partner after me, they have probably been dating or lining up future suitors LONGG before officially finishing the dumping process with me. I'm the loser in this situation, not them. I'm the person who was lacking.

[angeart]

Howwwww did you angst the world tour?? 🎀

this question made me giggle so much oh i'm glad you asked :3c there was so much yummy grian angst in the hc world tour!

it's all about grian and his penchant for destruction. he doesn't even mean to! he's not trying to be pesky; quite the opposite. he's curious but restrained, trying to be good, trying to follow instructions. he's not malicious at all! he's just there to see what people were up to, open and friendly and curious, eager to look and learn and praise. not a bad intention in sight... and yet things seem to break wherever he goes. everything he touches goes wrong.

the guilt churns, acidic and overwhelming, and grian's miserable. why is he like this? he's trying so hard, why is this the only way he can ever be? why can't it stop?

spoilers for grian's world tour video below <3

plantie pointed out to me how, during the tour of scar's train, when grian got rid of scar's arrows—the glitched ones that doc put there—he was so desperate to point it out after scar just glossed over it. as if he wanted to show that he can do something good. he can be helpful, he can fix things instead of just breaking everything.

but then we have all the other things, right? grian can't escape it.

when he was with etho and the mushroom farm exploded, he sums it up in a wretched if confused apology: "i'm so sorry. the two times i tried to use it, i broke it :( and created a water source floating— which i don't know how it happened— and flung the TNT, which i really don't understand—"

they move on, but it's so clear it lingers.

etho isn't blaming him. he's amused and brushes it off and moves along, unbothered, but grian himself can't wrap his head around it. about that propensity to breaking things, even unintentionally. the way nothing is safe around him.

he tells etho: "i can't stop thinking about your mushroom farm. why does everything i touch break, in new and unexpected ways?"

(not to mention when etho's showing him frogger and grian plays, almost instantly etho goes: "uh-oh, the game's broken", with a little huff of laugh. it wasn't exactly tied to anything grian did, but still something i wanted to point out, since grian was there for it <3)

and then grian goes to zedaph, right?

the very first game zedaph shows him. the very first. grian plays the way he was told to, the way he was meant to, and— he breaks it.

zedaph just laughs and moves them on.

(just sprinkling in a side note that zedaph's furnace minigame also didn't seem to work the way it should've—)

by the time grian gets to pearl's, it's starting to be a pattern that's so clearly eating away at him, making him anxious. he doesn't want it to happen again!

and yet.

pearl invites him to play her wordle game, and grian mindlessly goes and pushes the wrong button trying to start it... instantly stepping away with a quiet groan of a dread-filled "...oh-" followed by: "i just— ruined it already."

there's something about the mood switch. the way he seems more restrained and tame, silently upset with himself, trying so hard not to mess things up further. questioning why this is happening again. why he can't stop making it happen.

he walks over to the reset game button and asks, carefully: "can i press reset? is it gonna hurt? 🥺👉👈"

pearl reassures him he can, with a sigh noting that it'll just take a while.

there's an almost hysteric laugh from grian, followed by an exasperated, upset scream. "everything i touch breaks! when i went to e— i broke etho's thing when i went to— not frogger, his— his mushroom farm i— it blew up."

"you blew up his mushroom farm?? how? what did you do?!"

"yeah, i— i broke zed's game, instantly, pretty much, it's—"

"oh my gosh :("

"sorry 🥺"

pearl is quick to reassure him, though. "well, luckily for you, this is— you doing that (pushing the wrong button) does not break the game. it's just, you now have to wait for it to reset."

she makes sure grian knows that he didn't mess up anything terribly here. he didn't break pearl's game. it's okay! it's fine!

and then grian right clicks to open the book, and instead makes bonemeal pop out of a composter.

i think at this point pearl is a little bit taken aback by how wrong everything really seems to be going around grian. she makes sure to say, "it's fine," again, just so grian won't start worrying about it all again. "you're clicking on everything that people do not usually click on today. but it's okay. it's still not broken! it's not broken, it's alright, it's okay— i've got failsaves for people like you."

it's so sweet how she really tries to soothe him— and yet she can't help but let out that last remark.

people like you.

those few words surely lodge in more than all the reassurances. they're like splinter, proving grian right.

eventually, he gets to skizz.

during the tour of skizz's base, skizz shows him a horse statue and starts talking about how he lost his first horse at an event that grian was also a part of. and grian's stomach instantly sinks.

he asks hushedly, a bit confused, trying to remember: "was i there?"

skizz laughs. "you were absolutely there, dude."

which leads grian to ask, uneasily: "did i do it?"

skizz waves his hands, quick to easily reassure that no! that's not it, grian didn't do it!

grian lets out an oh with such palpable relief, and goes on to explain about how, "i remember witnessing it, but sometimes it's hard to disentangle whether i did it or not. coz i tell you what, on this tour i've broken everyone's stuff."

nobody was upset with grian when things broke, but here he is, several hermits down, still unable to leave it to rest. because it's him. it's him who did all of that, somehow, and he didn't mean to, but it doesn't matter. it happened anyway.

and now he can't even tell what is and what isn't his fault anymore.

the guilt is deep rooted, leaving anxious assumptions and dark, jagged precipices. how much did he destroy? what else should he be feeling guilty about? how far does this go?

he keeps breaking things, and it's such a blur that he can no longer tell what is and what isn't his fault.

the tour continues, and he delves into skizz's pyramid. and it's just— it's just a tunnel to swim through. nothing to mess up, besides potentially dying to suffocation, right?

and yet you can hear skizz shrilly exclaim: "oh he's going to end up breaking something!!"

and, (plantie's words: ) grian hearing that and just wondering, is that all i'm good for? is that all i'm known for? is that all i am?

there's no room for doubt; not really. that is what grian does, all the time, whether he wants to or not. he breaks stuff. he just— he doesn't mean to. and this tour is one big show of how powerless he is against it. (how everyone expects it from him anyway.)

despite it all, grian perseveres, trying out skizz's game, stubbornly dedicated and trying to win. (to pass; to have something to be proud of, at least—) and he gets to the powdered snow section.

there, he jumps across to a pathway that he was meant to circle to through the snow instead.

it's not breaking anything, not really. not even the rules. it's not cheating! he's just— he just did something skizz did not expect, but that was entirely possible within the game's design, even if not intended. he exploited it to his advantage; a risky, tricky shortcut.

and yet skizz remarks with a laugh: "this is what grian does! he breaks games!"

no matter what grian does... is that all he'll ever be?

is that all they'll see?

he fails getting through skizz's game, is thanked for play-testing, praises it all, they talk it all away, and...

and then grian goes to tour mumbo's base.

and fails to even die properly to his llama—

and then mumbo shows him his archive machine, and instantly panicks when grian gets curious about it, begging him not to touch anything. and grian says: "your stomach just fell through didn't it?" and after mumbo's immediate agreement, he adds: "and rightfully so. coz, almost everything i've touched on this tour has broken."

there's not a sliver of surprise to mumbo's anxious rushed: "yeah, yeah yeah! please stop now." because, of course things have broken. of course what grian touches is bound to go wrong. of course—

and then mumbo very carefully tells grian what to do with the machine.

grian does as he's told.

mumbo looks up and pauses, a frown crossing his face as he takes it in. he notes that grian probably did it too fast—

(something went wrong)

(something broke)

mumbo says: "i can't believe you come along and every single thing in my base starts [going wrong/breaking/malfunctioning]"

and then grian mysteriously ends up with an extra book from mumbo's machine, much to mumbo's dismay. grian's confused, cogs spinning as he tries to figure out what did he mess up this time to result in this.

it's clear mumbo wants grian away from his machine. it's not safe. (grian isn't safe.)

"maybe just give that to me and maybe just step away from the contraption. and then— maybe just leave me to—"

grian's upset and bewildered voice cuts in: "i didn't do anything wrong this time :(("

he's trying so hard.

he's trying so hard to be good and do things right and not mess anything up.

(it isn't working.)

(it's never bound to work, is it?)

mumbo ushers him away, and ends up showing him another cool invention—an elevator. except the second mumbo hits the button, a creeper shows up and explodes it. (it's midday.) (it wasn't even meant to be there.)

this one isn't grian's fault at all, but with everything that's happened— well, it's easy enough to link it to grian's presence. like a bad luck omen.

apprehensively, grian asks if the elevator broke, and mumbo—a bit bewildered by the reality of it—says that no, it seems to still work. "amazingly," he tacks on, disbelieving.

grian's relieved. "ohh, i thought we were in big trouble there!"

besides himself, mumbo anxiously agrees: "augh. i was like, if every single creation that i show breaks in some fashion, i'm just gonna quit."

because this isn't normal. none of this is, least of all everything at once. it simply doesn't happen.

(not when grian isn't there, anyway.)

mumbo notes that he needs to work on his lighting, and grian nods wisely saying it's a perpetual issue, but the anxiety is digging its talons in now, unrelenting. (what else is going to go bad in grian's presence? what else will he mess up? what else will he break? why is he like this?)

another remark that comes after this is mumbo's nervous: "i've actually just built up the automatic sorter which does this—which you're not gonna touch. we're banned from touching any redstone contraptions!"

and what can grian do but oblige? (but he can at least look, right?)

but does it ever change anything?

does it matter?

-

at the end of the day, the others don't think too much about it.

they all say their part, pass their judgment, wave their hands, dismiss, move on. it doesn't keep them up at night.

... i think it might keep grian up at night.

a cacophonous collection of word snippets, aimed at him or woven around him, digging under his skin until it bleeds. a noose of inescapable fate, a tightening band around his chest that promises he can only ever be one thing:

a vessel for destruction.

it doesn't matter if he wants to be.

shackles and chains and a cosmic inevitability written into his skin, etched into his bones, tangled into his bloodstream. and an ever-rising guilt like stormy sea, far above his head now, drowning him.

(maybe he's not meant to be near other people and their things.)

(maybe he's not meant to touch games that were constructed with so much effort and love and passion poured into them.)

(maybe he shouldn't—)

==========

bonus screenshots from discord DMs (with extra sprinkles of hmtb mentions):

-

-

-

-

==========

bonus hmtb quotes because i kept thinking about it:

He always destroys the things he loves most, after all.

and:

He destroyed everything he touched, and when there was nothing left, he destroyed the only remaining thing: himself.

-

[lloydfrontera]

javier realizing how much he cares for lloyd, how deep his loyalty to him runs, how ready he's to lie down his life for him, not because he's the son of his lord, not even really knowing exactly why he feels like that but just being absolutely certain that lloyd is his friend and he can't allow anything to harm him

And yet, why am I trying so hard to protect him? He had no way of knowing. But one thing was clear. It was a very simple matter. I want to protect him. Lloyd is my true master in my heart. Lloyd was his friend. And now, Javier wanted to protect Lloyd. He would sincerely protect him with everything he had.

he doesn't even know why!! he just knows that lloyd is his friend and his true master in his heart and that's!! more than enough for him to decide he's willing to put his life and everything he has in the line to protect him!! i'm just!!

[skyward-floored]

📚

Twilight princess, Link is a disaster after Midna leaves, but he can't feel anything. It's been months, but he hasn't cried, he's barely emoted at all, he just... feels numb. He keeps busy helping the Resistance, but he's still just numb about everything, and going through the motions. But when they find some weird ruins, he perks up a little, because they seem like they could be influenced by Twili, and despite hesitancy from Shad, Link goes right in.

And next thing he knows he's waking up as a wolf and staring at a kid in raggedy clothes who looks just as confused as he feels.

He's been time-traveled to botw.

The story goes along, Link gets to trusting this kid, and the kid him. Link figures out what's going on, he realizes this kid is a hero like him, he helps him hunt for food and fight monsters, he nuzzles him when he gets a memory and comes out shaking, curls around him when he cries because he can't remember, feels less and less numb as this adventure goes on. He realizes at some point he could turn into a hylian if he wanted, but at this point it's... easier, to stay as a wolf. For both of them. This kid is like his brother now, and he doesn't want to break his trust.

Until one day when the Other Link does something stupid, fights something he shouldn't have, gets hit by a guardian, I don't exactly know. But the point is he's hurt, and badly, and by the time Link deals with the danger and gets to him he's actively dying. Link freaks out (he's come close before like this yes, but he's out of healing items, they were about to stock up--), he's about to lose somebody close to him, he's about to leave him, and he can't do anything about it again, and he turns from a wolf to a hylian because he can't do anything else.

Other Link is understandably shocked by this, but then he smiles and his last words are literally something like "somehow I knew you weren't just a wolf".

Other Link stops breathing, and Link just stares at him,not willing to process this, not willing to even entertain what this means. But then he starts glowing, and Link stares at him because he doesn't realize what Mipha's Grace does. Other Link hasn't had to use it yet.

It activates, and Link is staring in shock, and then Other Link opens his eyes and sits up, and probably says something stupid like "why are you looking at me like that"

And the dam finally bursts, and Link is crying, all of the stupid emotions he'd been plugging up and unable to acknowledge all come out right then and Other Link sort of just pats him on the back with not much clue what's going on, but the hugging is nice since dying is kind of traumatic actually.

... and that's all I had XD

[countdown-to-love]

i've been semi-inactive on tumblr and i come back to the best url ever ,, please forgive me but what was your previous one again? /gen 😭

hey anon!! i used to be @/hwang-intak (and then @/hwang-intak-archive while i was inactive^^)