#it still does not have a name. i think i am possibly the worst at names

[dood-itsradical]

No Worries.

Pairing: Jake Kim x Gn!Reader

Summary: Uhhhh Jake see partner, Jake happy 👍

Genre/Trope: Fluff, friends to lovers.

Details: Established relationship, Samuel judging your taste, implied sex mentioned at the end.

A/n: Am now bad at summary. Most of the time idk wth to name my oneshots. I do not take requests!

Masterlist

Dating Jake is like a bliss. He's protective and overall a nice decent man. Everyone knows this and put faith on him whilst looking out for him. In return they look out for each other. It's what you love about Big Deal.

Despite his insecurities regarding his fears of becoming his father, you are always there to remind him otherwise. Even before your relationship became official, your words just seems to affect him differently in a way he can't decipher. Regardless he was very much thankful of you. And he never forget to repay your kindness.

So when you two took your relationship on the next level, he was over the top anxious. Ecstatic but anxious. He wants to treat you good, like you're deserving. Even for your presence alone. Even if he knew you are already familiar with the gangsters life, that didn't stop him from worrying than he let on. And you're no fool, he can't even hide it. The whole crew knew his antics by now. Stupid habit of his of overthinking the what ifs and whatnot. Sometimes it's up to you to snap him out.

You try to keep the relationship low-key. You know everyone is happy for you both but you took consideration to respect them and only be lovey-dovey when you're alone. It wasn't a challenge to you, but it is to Jake. This man can't even stop stealing glances at you. His fingers always fidgeting, itching to just hold your hand. It's adorable. Especially when he try to act serious, but he's secretly crumbling inside. Not when you're just standing there looking all pretty and invested to the things he's saying.

He was holding his dear life not to smile when he notices you were looking. He's so whipped it's crazy. This man just can't shut up about you. Basically whatever basic thing there is about you, he knew. And when he knew so does the crew. When you're not here with him, he turned into a sad puppy, though try to hide it by acting leaderly — which he fails pathetically. So now which bring us back to the present.

It's only been a day and he haven't heard a word from you. Been a day since his supposed half brother made an appearance. He started to get worried but Jerry kept convinced him that he's overreacting and that you're very much fine. He looked back at the screen of your private chat where his text was left unread.

His mind starts to ponder. What if you're in danger and couldn't reach out? No, no he mustn't think that way. You can take care of yourself. He wants to believe that. You're no damsel in distress, he knows this. Then why does it takes you to long to reply? He understands you have responsibility to take care of. Maybe he should pay you a visit instead? You wouldn't mind, right? He's just being a good boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

The word still feels foreign to him. Yet it feels right. He's becoming soft. For you. And he likes that. He likes that he likes you. Or better, he loves you.

He groaned softly, brushing his face with his calloused palm as he thinks about it. He realised he have yet to drop the L bomb towards you. He thought it's too soon and it would scare you away. But he have known you enough. From your worst fears to the thinks that ridiculously would make you peeved. It wouldn't be so wrong after all. At least he's confident enough to know that your feelings for him are one hundred percent mutual.

But then what caused you to ignore his texts? It was so unlike you. You can't be possibly be mad at him, would you? Last time you depart, nothing was left on a bad term. There he is again with his fucked up brain. His brows are knitted so tightly he could get a headache.

Meanwhile, somewhere in a convenient store, you were half aware of running late to see Jake. You cursed your phone charger for this. You kept a mental note to buy a new wire at the same time but choosing specific snacks is also completely out of your ordeal today. Tapping your chin rhythmically in the snack isle, your eyes moves back and forth as your mind decides aimlessly for you.

"You been standing there for 10 minutes."

The voice caught your attention, you were surprised by the presence of the former President of the Workers towering next to you. Your expression relaxed immediately.

"What's it to you?"

Samuel scoffed, reaching for a packet M&M from the shelf for himself. "You two disgusted me."

You raised your brow. His eyes rolled behind his glasses at your confusion. "Well what'd you know? Smartass and dumbass together. Perfect couple beyond compare."

You let out a flat "Oh." comprehending his previous words. "Thanks." Your tone spoke speak sarcasm. He sneered, "No seriously, you guys are matched made in heaven I could literally just-" He leaned forwards, hovering his two fingers in front of his mouth and feign a gag.

He chuckled after you gave an unamused look. "You're just pissed-"

"Woah, hey there." He raised his hands mockingly, "Don't go flattering yourself. I can judge you, especially him as much as I fucking want."

"Not like I got anything better to do with my life. Your standards must be that low, it's almost believable." He muttered passed you to the drinks section. You decided to ignore him, grabbing whatever appeals to you before making your way to the cashier.

Samuel rendezvous with you shortly with his own items after and pulled out extra cash. The knowing glance from the cashier goes unnoticed by you due to your gazed being pinned towards Samuel. He ignored you as he payed for your stuff. When you exited the store, you thanked him even though he left without a bothering himself to reply.

By the time you got to Big Deal's turf, Jake was fast asleep waiting for you. Your eyes softened seeing him snoozing softly. Your fingers gently brushing between black locks which then startled him by reflex. Once he realised it's you, he sighed in relief. You chuckled with amusement.

Your laughter brought him back with him. His eyes widened as he pulled you against him with a loving embrace. "Oh shit."

"Fuck, I was worried about you." He sharply inhaled your scent, cupping your face and kissed anywhere on your face except your lips. "Worried? For nothing?" The corner of your lips curled.

He pulled back to look at you with offense, "For nothing? You're worth every punches."

"Corny." You uttered.

His raised his hands with apolagy, "I know, I know." before sets them back on your sides, "I just thought you...you know?" He trailed, patting your sides with acknowledgement.

You raised a brow while pulling a small grin, "Wow, I really made you worried, huh?" He wanted to wipe that amusement off your face but seeing you in such a good mood, equals good sign, he can't help but to match. "Hey, my masculinity isn't fragile. I'm allowed to ask."

Always have fond of his humour, you let out a soft snicker, "Right, excuse me."

Waving his hand dismissively, he asked, "Nevermind that. Something happened?"

You sighed, "Phone dead. Sorry about that." He sighed in relief at your answer before beckoning you to the couch and get comfortable with him, to which you obliged without a complain. "You?" You asked back, "Don't tell me you're just being a potato couch." You ruffled his hair, "Kidding. You deserve it anyway."

He scoffed, "If anything I looked like a wet dog. " He sighed, "But, no. You're right. I've been stressing out."

"Oh." You tilted your head, your tone with a hint of sympathy and understanding. You softly brushed his hair back affectionately. His shoulders relaxed as he leaned in your touch. "Not that kind. It's just-"

You cut him off, "No, I get it."

He shook his head, "No. Not that. There's something else happened yesterday. The half brother showed up here. We talked."

Now this caught your attention. Your brows lit up. "You're serious?" He nodded as a respond.

You scooped closer to him, "Well damn. What happened? What was he like? Does he looked like you? Scary-looking? Was anyone hurt?" You asked each one by one patiently.

Jake chuckled at your constant questions. His face showed gratitude upon your understanding. "No, we're fine. At least." You frowned slightly, knowing what he meant by that. Meaning that the guy's intention is still unknown. And it's not a good sign.

Knowing Jake most likely have a lot in his mind already, you decided to push the thought away and help him have his mind at peace. Whatever it was, that's a problem for another day. You nudged him, "Hey, next time he come back I'll be there with you, yeah?"

Now it's his turn to frown. Again, he didn't doubt your skills but putting yourself in danger feels wrong. You have already read his mind based on his face expression so you just pinched his nose gently. "Aigoo, kenchana. It's your call anyway. I won't get involved if you won't let me." Your hand move to his cheek, pinching them slightly with care, "Adding more mess into your head is the least thing I wanna do anyway."

He chuckled at your gestures, his cheeks turned a hint of pink. "Thanks, yeobo." And wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you both back against the couch.

He turned his head to you, "You're my world, you know that?" He cut you off, rolling his eyes before you could utter, "Yes, corny. Whatever. Deal with it. Alright?" He gestured with his hands, "You gotta deal with this...big deal you know what I mean?" And as soon as those words came out of his mouth you bursted into laughter. He can't help but laugh with you, realizing how bad the phrase was to him but he was proud anyway that it got you to laugh.

"C'mere you." He pulled you closer, squeezing you lovingly. "What the hell am I gonna do with you?" You nuzzled your cheek on his, "I brought snacks. We can binge watch that one K-drama I've been telling."

Jake nodded with agreement, "Sure. I just want you to stay." As you stood up and took off your jacket, leaving you with undershirt. While you looked for the show in your phone, he looked through the plastic bag and took the snacks and drinks out only to pause his action for a moment.

He blinked, chuckling a bit then looked at you. "Oh. I didn't know we have other plans in mind. Well, I suppose it best to take precaution, huh?"

You raised your brow, "What do you mean?"

When he took out an item from the plastic box, your eyes turned wide upon seeing the durex box in his hand. Your whole body turn white, only to immediate morph to tomato red. Fucking Samuel.

[k1tty5]

day 4: diverging paths

[squirmydonnie]

Vent art:

TW: belt

CW: nudity

I apologize if somethings wrong

My hands keep disappearing. I call it that. But it's not really that way. It's more like my fingers fell kind of numb and uncomfortable. It happens when I feel too much anxiety.

But that's mostly unrelated to this.

I have been having a difficult time. I try to get the same feeling on both of my hands or fingers. It has to be even. It's not hard to keep up with. But its very annoying. It doesn't quite matter what it is. Anything I touch needs to feel the same. On both hands or on the same finger.

This applies to other things as well. Like blinking and moving.

Though its not the worst. And even though I have a hard time at school its difficult when i come home it feels so unpredictable. Even though I know all these ways I can act. I just don't quite know what to do with myself.

I try not to make it any kind of deal at all. I find it hard. But I don't want to.

I got a mirror for my birthday. Which was something I had really been wanting. But the first day my dad put it there. I was pretty freaked out.

I still daydream. Though not as much and not to such I high degree. No Cookie 12 daydreams. And if they have to be there. It's just Cookie and that's it.

Daydreaming means for me that I can still interact with things, but not with myself. So when I do, i wouldn't ever look in the mirror or at a picture of myself. Because its just too much. It takes me out of it and its frustrating. So I put one of my sweater over it. I'm not used to seeing a different angle of my room either. So that freaked me out.

I moved the sweater up today. And I want to keep the mirror up. I like looking at myself. But only when I want to.

Idk.

[luludeluluramblings]

tbh I’m more intrigued by the idea of college-age Reader getting pregnant while unmarried still living in the manor and NO ONE has any idea who the father is (maybe she does, but she’s withholding that for now or maybe he’s not in the picture?) and it’s the biggest freak out ever. that just seems so fucking wild and potentially hilarious to me. and nobody noticing she’s pregnant until she’s farther along? or them finding out randomly?? imagine:

damian: you look pregnant. what is wrong with you.

reader: i am pregnant though

the batfam: ????????!!!!!!!!!! and then she proposes that now that she’s old enough and starting a new chapter in her life raising a baby and all she should just move out! (cue everyone disliked that meme)

Neglected!Pregnant!Reader x Yandere!Bat Family

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Okay, I think I'm about to become a Pregnancy!Reader writer. Which, I'm not mad about. Kind think it would be fun, but I know the trope isn't for everyone. So, if it’s not your thing, I’m sorry.

A/N: Some of this is based off of things from my own pregnancies.

A/N: Oh, no. Frick, I wanna make this a series now. Check the bottom, cause I have a plot idea for this and I want opinions on it. I spiraled, this was supposed to be a quick blurb. I got carried away. Gonna build up to the yandere shenanigans because I’m turning into a writer with a million WIPs.

A/N: Tagging @skay-ali because I like their The Forgotten Daughter series.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Very minor Yandere Themes (like barely there), minor NSFW, graphic descriptions of pregnancy and medical procedures, Vomiting.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You don't really remember that night it happened. But, it only happened once and after you swore you'd never drink again. The hangover after that night had been one of the worst of your short life.

In fact, the sticky feeling between your legs and bitter taste on your tongue had also added to your decision to swear of these college parties. Luckily, you have enough of your memory to remember that you and your partner from that night had both been willing even when wasted. Even if you couldn't remember their name. Or, their face.

It takes you a while to notice. One missed cycle wasn't anything to freak out about, and it was exam season. The stress had probably caused the nausea. It wasn't until you were heading down to breakfast one morning and smelled the burnt eggs in the kitchen that Stephanie had burnt that you realized something might be wrong.

You, of course, ignore it. It was just a fluke. Burnt eggs weren't appetizing to anyone. But, then you nearly faint walking through the perfume section after looking to restock your favorite bottle of scent.

The doctor you finally went to another week later had asked about your cycle and the last time you had been intimate with someone. That's when the reality of things started to set in. You hadn't even thought to do an at home test to check. Your doctor was kind though, saying they could just do a quick urine sample and blood test just to make sure. It might be something else.

The next few minutes felt like ages. But, when the Doctor came back to tell you the positive results you panicked. Not as in panicked as in you broke down, but you threw up a mask. You're good at doing that. You must get it from your father.

When she asks you if this is good news or bad news you can't help, but blurt that it's good. Great even. Which causes her to beam at you. Before you know it, you're being handed a complementary diaper bag with formula and tiny bottles while being given the rundown on your possible due date and future appointments. You nodded you're head along with the information, sliding the paper's into the diaper bag as she hands them to you.

But, then she turns to you with delight and tells you that the Ultra Sound tech has an opening and you're just far along enough they can do your first ultrasound. It'll only be a thirty minute wait.

After nodding along once more, you go back into the waiting room. Holding your new bag with white knuckles and falling into deep thought.

This is happening. But, how? Are you even fit to be a parent? You've hardly ever been loved. How are you going to love someone else? How are you going to do this? What will the family think? What will your few friends think? You don't even remember who their father is. This is impossible. You're not ready. You'll never be ready. That churning feeling is in your stomach again and you feel that single piece of toast you had for breakfast about to come back up.

The thirty minutes fly by with those thoughts in your head. They still swirl in your head as your go back into the ultrasound room.

It's dark, but the tech had few soft lights on in the room. Its actually kind of... cozy.

What's not cozy it the tech telling you that she's going to stick a wand up your bits so you could see the baby. Your eyes screwing shut at the cold invasive feeling.

But, when you open them, she turns the screen for you to see. It's almost amazing how fast the image appears on the screen.

And, their moving. Actually moving. You end up laughing at the sight, causing the screen to flicker and the little blob to move. When the nurse plays the heart beat you can feel yours stuttering in your chest.

Watching them bounce in there with each laugh, it’s easy for the next words to spill out of your mouth.

“Oh, I’m gonna love you.”

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Every step after that feels remarkably less lonely. It’s not just you anymore. You have someone who you’re going to love.

You don’t bother telling the Family. Bruce would just lecture you on being reckless while the other’s would judge you for it.

Honestly, you don’t care if they did. This is your baby.

Funnily enough, for a house full of detectives and highly intelligent vigilantes no one actually notices. Not even Cassandra. It’s a bit insulting how much they don’t pay attention. But, your symptoms soon make it so you don’t care.

The waves of exhaustion, the way everything smells strong and certain things make you want to gag. Heartburn that burns your throat. The subtle cravings that make you cry when you can’t fulfill them. Thankfully you finished your exams because you were too tired to even move from your bed most mornings due to strange nightmares.

Eventually, someone does notice. And, it’s not anyone you would expect.

Of all things you cried over on the pantry floor, it had to be salt and vinegar chips. They hadn’t been what you wanted, but it was too late to go get french fries and a smoothie at this hour in Gotham. And, you stuffed them down your throat with angry tears.

It was Stephanie of all people to find you. You gave her a sharp glare when she seemed to grow wide eyed. Normally you avoid her gaze, but you were quite pissed about having chips in your mouth and not fries. As her eyes grew wider, your nose wrinkled in further annoyance at her.

Just as you’re about to tell her off, she speaks.

“Do you— um, want something else?”

It’s pitiful how fast your snarl turns into a pleading pout.

“Yes, please. I want fries. I want Jokerized fries so badly.” You practically blubber when she gives you a pointed nod towards the car garage.

It takes you a bit to get off the floor despite the fact that your bump is hardly noticeable, but Stephanie noticed the extremely subtle curve.

“How far?” She asks hesitantly, looking from the bump to your face.

You also hesitant for a moment, looking up at her with tears on your cheeks and a serious look in your eyes. “14 Weeks.”

Her eyebrows raise and a wiry pout appears on her face. “Damn. You’re smaller than I was at that time, so not fair.”

The slightly surprised that information gives you almost makes you pause. But, if you had you would’ve probably toppled back down to the pantry floor.

“Explain on the way?” You ask, still a bit nervous. The two of you had never been close since you moved into the manor less than a handful of years back.

“Sure.” She grins, leading the way.

As you both walk, she whispers. “Does Bruce know?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.”

“Ah.” Stephanie managed to hide the winces from you.

When you two finally make into the car, you’re already feeling better about life. You’re about to have your fries, and possibly a shake too. You didn’t expect to have any company, but surprisingly it’s nice.

Stephanie drives, and get the fries to go. Munching on them as Stephanie drives you back to the manor. Her sharing her own pregnancy experience.

"Wait, so Tim dated you when you were pregnant with another dudes kid? Babe, forget being me being small, you got game."

"Damn right I do." She says smugly, stuffing her own fries in her mouth. "So, um, do you wanna talk about what happened with you?"

And, just like that your mood shifts.

"No."

"Oh- Oh! I'm sorr-" She starts up, and you can tell she's assuming the worst.

"Don't you start, Stephanie." You interrupt with a pointed glare. "I don't want to talk about it because it's none of y'all's business."

That makes her cough on her french fry. "Wait, wait, what do you mean? Don't you want help?"

"Nah, I got it." Comes your stubborn reply, glaring out the window as you dip your fry into the cheesecake milkshake.

"... You should tell Bruce." She suggest after a moment of awkward silence.

"What? So he can ignore his grandchild, too?" Your filter is none existent with your hormones all out of wack.

"He doesn't ignore you-"

"Oh, yes the fuck he does." Your firmly state. Growing a bit heated. "Y'all all figgin do."

Stephanie is about to roll her eyes, chalking your words to you just being unreasonable. But, then the thought starts to creep upon her with each passing building when she realizes this is the first time she's actually hung out with you. Ever.

"I'm sorry." She murmurs to you. The silence falling over you both as the cars continues back to the manor.

"... I'm only forgiving you because you bought my fries..."

"Really?! That's all I had to do?"

"What? I was desperate for this- Wait! Hang on. Stop the car. Stop the car-"

"What? Why?! Are you- OH! Fuck!"

You ended up regurgitating up all the fries you had just eaten. Right into your lap.

"Oooo, that's nasty." Stephanie says, cracking the windows.

"Is it bad that I still want to eat them?" You mumble to her, eyeing the remaining fries.

"Please, please, wait till we get back or I'm gonna hurl, too."

"Fine." Comes your reply. Your eyes drifting shut for a moment. "If you tell anyone I'm gonna tell Cassandra about your crush on her."

"How did you- Frick, you are more like Bruce then I realize." Her voice going from panic to begrudging realization.

"Now, that's offenseive."

"Oh, come on. You're kids gonna have some of Bruce's DNA too."

"Eww. Eww. Don't remind me."

The banter between you both coming back with ease.

When you make it back to the manor, parting ways for the night. You feel at ease. You may have made have finally made a new friend in all this and gained a pillar of support.

As you shower and finish off your fries, you can't help but think about the apartments you had been looking at. Wondering what Stephanie will thinking of your nursery ideas.

Down in the cave, Stephanie slowly walks down the steps. Realizing this might have just gotten complicated.

"You okay, Steph?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Soooooo, what if, and hear me out, wee add some baby daddy drama to this?

A/N: Please note, I write a Reader that DID NOT grow up with the Bat Family, which means we could have some really really juicy drama here. But, we could just keep the options limited to just close friends of the Bat family.

A/N: What do y'all think? Baby Daddy drama? One of the Bat Boys the Daddy? One of the other vigilantes? Should I do a Baby Daddy poll? I just feel like this is an opportunity.

A/N: Also, Stephanie was a teen mom in some comics from my research. Which I think adds to this and gives her a better chance of bonding with Reader until shit goes down.

[mikanotes]

teach me ft. eunhyuk x gn!reader

genre: angst/comfort (?) established relationship (?) warnings: sweet home 3 spoilers, nothing much just not my best fic Sorry!!! possibly super ooc eunhyuk author’s note: not much insp so this isn’t my best! the season was pretty good though so. yeah! have this because i love eunhyuk and i missed him a lot.

summary: What do you do when the fight is over? When the person you were looking for comes back with half of his self missing?

“You know I could be of use to you, right?”

“How?”

You groan in annoyance, tilting your head back. The sky is clear and the streets are quiet. This doesn’t quite feel like the ultimate perfect ending, it doesn’t quite feel like peace, but it’s a kind of calm you won’t take for granted. You look back up and continue walking.

“You’re missing tons of emotions. Trust me, there’s no one better than me to help you relearn them.” you say, attempting a dramatic salesman kind-of tone but failing miserably. You hear Eunhyuk scoff and think it was a bit of a victory, anyways.

“That sounds believable.”

“It is!” you insist, jogging up to him, “I swear we were dating before you went off and died.”

“I know.”

“That’s insane. You— I mean, you didn’t forget things, so then you must know this isn’t how you treat the person you’re dating after not seeing them for over a year. Surely.”

Eunhyuk turns to look at you. “The person you’re dating? We’re still together?”

“I mean, it’s not like I ever gave up on you.” you say, crossing your arms. He stares at you blankly for a couple more seconds before looking ahead again.

“Sounds like a waste of time.”

You sigh and let your expression fall for a second before fixing it. When your gaze falls on Eunhyuk again, his own expression has changed ever-so-slightly. There’s a crease between his eyebrows and his eyes are squinting a little, with a familiar tilt of his head. Then he blinks and returns to this neutral expression of his. “Is it not?”

“What else do you have to do with your time?”

“Finding others—”

“—Like you. Sixteenth time you say this, by the way,” you scoff, walking ahead of him. “You’re starting to sound like a broken record.”

Your eyes are burning a little bit. No, none of this feels victorious. To hell with a final battle, with everyone escaping, with everything. Nothing has changed. All that’s good is Eunhyuk being alive and he only feels like half of himself.

The worst part is that he acts the same as he used to. To the detail. It’s so obviously him that it almost hurts— All his actions just miss the hidden emotions he always kept close to his heart. Now it all feels empty.

Eunhyuk says your name and your heart feels like it stops. Just for a moment. You turn to see him catch up to you and slow at your side.

“This thing,” he says, and pulls out a necklace from a pocket inside his coat, “It’s yours.”

You blink. “… Yeah. It is.”

He looks at the piece of jewelry, holding it up by the chain like some kind of random thing he found on the street, before tossing it around his hand and grabbing the pendant in his palm.

“She said to use memories to relearn emotions,” he recalls quietly, then turns to look at you, “What do you think?”

“You tell me. Do your memories help?”

“I remember caring about you.”

You stare at him dead in the eye and barely blink at all for a few seconds. He does, and tilts his head again.

“What is it?”

“Why am I the only one still in love? That’s really unfair.” you huff.

“Don’t cry.”

“I’m not.”

“I said I remember everything, why are you trying to fool me? You always made this exact same face when you tried to hold back your tears,” he states, “I know this much.”

You heave a deep sigh and crouch down on the ground, covering your face with your hands. He’s right. It’s starting to make you angry. It really is him. It’s as if part of you was still trying to believe it wasn’t really Eunhyuk, that he was pretending not to feel emotions anymore. But it really hits you this time, that he’s simply lost that part of himself. You should be grateful that’s all he lost in the process of his rebirth, but you miss him. You miss him so much it hurts.

“I told you not to cry,” he sighs, and the closeness of his voice indicates he moved to your level, “What’s the point?”

“I miss you.”

“I’m right here.”

You shake your head.

“…If it’s making you this sad, then alright. Help me relearn them. Emotions,” he says. You take a deep breath and look up slowly. He’s waiting, crouching in front of you, a casual expression on his bloody face. “I’m a quick learner.”

“Okay. I’m bad at teaching though, I totally lied earlier. Promise not to leave me.”

“I have no reason to anymore. Besides…” he trails off, gaze averting. “…”

Lee Eunhyuk is more confused than he’d like to admit. He doesn’t feel emotions anymore, and he doesn’t feel any attachment to them either. There’s little hints of them, however, here and there. He sees you in pain and there’s a slight discomfort in his chest, reminiscent of a time long gone. He sees that necklace and picture and wonders why he bothers carrying them around, still. He sees the road ahead of him and acknowledges that he’s… Just a bit lost.

What now?

“… It’s for the best I stay with you,” he says, blinks, then looks at you again, “I think.”

“You think?”

“That’s the best I can give you.” He smiles, a bit tightly, and the grimace you make in return before scoffing out a laugh tells him he must not be doing a great job at this whole thing. He gives up for now.

“Let’s find somewhere safe to stay first.”

“Anywhere is safe as long as you stay with me.”

You give him an expression of irritation that he doesn’t really understand and get up, immediately beginning to walk away. “Don’t say things like that! You’re making me hope! Shut up!”

He gets up slowly and follows you. “It’s true, though.”

“Shut up!”

[schattenhonig]

The A in LGBTQIA+ doesn't stand for aspec because they're not repressed!

(please read the disclaimer at the end of this post)

Ummm, excuse me? Would you mind telling me what your definition of repression is, then?

Because I feel repressed when a doctor asks me about my sex life, and if I say I have none, it gets marked down as a symptom without being asked if I suffer from it.

I feel repressed when my gyn tells me I can't get a hysterectomy yet despite losing so much blood on every period that I need to take iron supplements all the time, because I could change my mind about not wanting children (which is a whole other post, I know, but it's most likely linked to sex).

I feel repressed if I can't use dating apps or platforms because my sexuality doesn't even exist there, and the one time I tried, I got called names because I didn't want to meet for because it was clear where this date would go, despite my explicit "what I'm looking for".

I feel repressed when I think about how recently a paragraph was finally abolished in my country that considered sex a vital part of a marriage, basically entitling the spouses to having sex with their partner (both gender neutral, because entitling people to having sex with somebody else by law is wrong. It's basically a rape permission).

I feel repressed when I can't watch any film or show without it being about love and/or sex, no matter if it fits the narrative and furthers the plot.

I feel repressed when I plot my own stories and automatically put a romantic couple in there as main characters, even though I have no idea why this would be important for the plot. Not even my own stories, my own thoughts are mine.

I felt repressed when I was asked accusingly in a relationship if I wasn't missing something before I even knew asexuality as a spectrum was a thing, and having to lie about this being a side effect of my medication instead of genuinely not feeling attracted to someone in this way.

I feel repressed when I can't tell people I'm not sexually attracted to them because they will take this personally no matter how well I explain myself.

I feel repressed when everywhere I look there's advertising relying on naked skin, suggestive posing and objectification. Why are expensive cars still presented by women considered beautiful and tempting? It's not like that's necessary to convince people of spending so much money on a thing that gets you from A to B. Couches with women in smart dresses and high heels. That's not what a normal person looks like on a couch. But the worst is a truck in the town where I live: it's from a small fruit and vegetable stand, so whenever I see it, it comes from the warehouse, delivering groceries. On it is a woman clad in very little, presenting fruit. I'm sorry, but why? Does a misogynistic picture convince you of the necessity to avoid scurvy?

I feel repressed when I tell people and get the answer "you just haven't found the right person yet", because there are two possible assumptions from that point: I'm either not trying hard enough (so it's basically my own fault) or something about me is not right, appalling even (which circles back to I'm not trying hard enough or frames me as a victim of my genetics, upbringing or circumstances to be pitied).

Do not tell me how I feel. Do not try to tell me everything is fine and I shouldn't complain or ask for acknowledgement if everywhere I look, I'm reminded of how odd, how weird and how not normal I am. How much it inconveniences you to even acknowledge my existence, let alone respect any of my traits, views and choices.

And while I can only write from my own asexual point of view, I wrote this with all kinds of flavours of aspec in mind, so I'm explicitly including aromantics, aroace people and every shade of the spectrum in this. Not all my examples may apply to you, but I hope you can find something to relate to.

ETA: please feel free to add your own experiences of repression!

[81folklore]

dress - VETTEL

pairings: sebastian vettel x famous!reader (fc: taylor swift)

summary: its known that seb has been married for a few years now despite the public never seeing is wife, its also known that yn is in a committed relationship and has been since she disappeared from public eye. maybe they are more connected than people realise

authors note: i have had this idea on my mind for SO LONG so im very pleased to finally be writing it. essentially in this, yn is taylor and seb is joe but no one has ever seen him nor know his name, if that makes sense? honestly i have no clue how this will turn out but i needed to write it

authors note 2: this is set in the midnights era however i switched the songs a bit so ‘dress’ is on midnights instead of ‘sweet nothing’ and vice versa!! also ‘dress’ is going to be a single. i also apologize for how all over the place this is, especially the tweets

authors note 3: just pretend whatever says taylor swift says your name and the photos with her hands have a wedding ring!! i also got so confused when trying to screenshot the twitter stuff so the timeline ones are backwards

authors note 4??: haha didnt realise there was a 30 pic limit... pt 2 here :)

masterlist

ynupdates

liked by user3, user18 and 10,628 others

yn on her story today, possibly posting song lyrics! thoughts?

view comments

user3: NEW ERA INCOMING

user18: OH I AM SO READY FOR THIS

user13: NEW MUSIC NEW MUSIC

user66: is this hinting at her reputation era?

user13: i was just thinking this, more specifically the time just before reputation

user72: MUSIC ABOUT LOVER?? OH I AM SO HERE FOR IT

user55: if it is about lover and the time before reputation this will BREAK ME like,, HE SAW THE BEST IN HER EVEN IN HER WORST TIMES😭😭

yourusername

liked by gracieabrams, ynupdates, olliebearman and 7,277,739 others

everyone thinks that they know us, but they know nothing about…

this album has been such a rewarding piece to create and im so glad that soon enough you will all be able to listen and enjoy it with me! one thing i love in particular about this album is the song ‘dress’

dress was originally a piece i started to write when making reputation however i felt it was right to keep it to myself, to keep it between my partner and i for a little while longer. however recently our lives have been changing for the better, and while that lid of privacy will still be on, i want to share more with you guys

you have all been on this journey with me and you have treated my partner and i with the upmost respect and for that i thank you. for me dress is a letter, its statement, its a declaration of my love for him and im very grateful to be able to give this to you all

this song is one im very proud of, i really enjoyed writing this the first time, and getting to revist and polish it up felt very special to do.

dress out now on all platforms🖤

comments on this post have been limited

sebupdates

liked by user34, user5, user88 and 23,683 others

seb in suzuka with the grid at his turn 2 bee (insect) hotels,, we've missed seeing him at the track :(

view comments

user3: of course the grid come together for him :’)

user5: im not crying!! just hay fever!!

user5: oh i have missed him SO MUCH

user7: NO BECAUSE YOU DONT GET IT HES BACK

user88: DID YOU GUYS SEE THE VIDEO OF HIM HUGGING CHARLES😭😭

user34: the way he was like a teacher throughout the whole thing😭

user18: does anyone know if hes staying the whole weekend or is it like monaco??

sebupdates: we believe hes staying the whole weekend but unsure if hes with a team or not!

user18: ok thank you :)

user77: the way the first thing lewis asked him was if his wife was okay, oh what if i cry😭😭

user66: im kind of new here, have the grid met sebs wife?

user77: i know they all at least know about her and know who she is, i dont think everyone has met her but i know lewis has met her quite a bit!!

part 2!

[reginaldqueribundus]

the Sarek family is hilarious to me because you have so much drama in one place. there have got to be at least 3 like, holo-documentaries or whatever about them. how could you not?

you have Sarek, the patriarch: one of the UFP's top diplomats, who knocks up a Vulcan princess then goes “hrm I am ambassador to Earth therefore I should marry a human” and he does, upsetting all sorts of the worst kinds of people on his home planet and causing racist hate groups to try to blow him and his family up multiple times, and seems honestly more put out by his son joining Starfleet than his other son becoming Vulcan Moriarty

Amanda, the matriarch: an accomplished educator and quite possibly the only well-adjusted member of the family, but when her son Spock shows up on her doorstep after growing a beard, having a mental breakdown and apparently murdering several medical staff she still shrugs and hides him in the family mausoleum

Sybok: Amanda's stepson from the aforementioned princess fling, who becomes an antiestablishment criminal mastermind with an edgelord fake name, hooks up with a hot space pirate, finds religion, starts a cult, takes an entire colonial government hostage sparking a diplomatic incident involving three galactic superpowers, and hijacks a Starfleet ship to the galactic core to find the Vulcan Garden of Eden, where he dies fighting god in hand-to-hand combat

Michael, a traumatized human girl Sarek brings home from a work trip, who joins Starfleet, becomes their first-ever mutineer, goes to prison, saves the Federation from a war most people think is her fault and gets “killed” in a highly classified, very suspicious incident involving an experimental starship and a series of red lights that appeared across the galaxy like a divine omen (oh, and returns 900 years later to solve the dilithium crisis, kill the head of the Emerald Chain and save two entire star systems including her siblings' homeworld)

and last but not least Sarek & Amanda's one-of-a-kind hybrid baby. Spock, who gets accepted into the Vulcan Science Academy, tells them to go fuck themselves when they're racist about it, runs off to Starfleet instead, gets so famous his arranged marriage falls apart resulting in him publicly strangling his own captain to death except not really, steals the Federation flagship twice, invents time travel, saves the entire planet Earth, dies and comes back to life, goes into his dad's line of work and achieves peace with the freaking Klingons as his opening act, then after a long successful career suddenly dips to go do extremely dangerous underground activism on one of the most paranoid authoritarian worlds in the galaxy to unify the Romulans & Vulcans who've hated each other for over a thousand years — and he isn't around to see it but it eventually works. then he fucks off with the VSA's high-speed prototype ship full of the most dangerous substance known to science and gets sucked into a black hole of his own creation, never to be seen again. and this is just the stuff that's public knowledge!

then you dig into the novels where Sarek's ancestor basically makes out with Zefram Cochrane 5 seconds after meeting him and Amanda tells the press her husband has a huge cock

I love them

[jiskblr]

Tumblr Rules for Redditors

Hello, fellow redditors! Many people are trying to tell you rules about how to Tumblr properly. Many of them are wrong, or assholes, or both. I am also an asshole but I’m going to not be one for a minute to give you some advice:

“Reblog this or you’re a bad person” and any variation on that is a violation of intergalactic law. Don’t do it. Also, refuse to comply if someone else does it.

Generally, people can see what you reblog, but cannot see what you ‘like’. A like may seem like an upvote, but it is much less significant than one, since it doesn’t affect visibility in the slightest. A like will be visible both to the OP of the thread, and to the person whose reblog you put the like on. Like promiscuously! It feels good to get likes and there’s no downside. (Unless you are a space alien AKA influencer.) There’s a setting for like visibility, but it’s still somewhat hard to find even if it’s turned on.

Tumblr nominally has the ability to browse global tags (e.g. seeing the entire site’s posts and reblogs tagged #superwholock or #reddit exodus) and to search the site for things. No one uses them and they don’t really work.

You are probably less surprised by this than denizens of literally any other website on the internet, but there’s mostly no algorithm here. Chronological order only. This now defaults to being on, but you can and should turn it off. (If you’re using the search or global tags, they might have an algorithm, but if they do, it doesn’t work. We don’t know because we don’t use them, because they mostly don’t work either.)

Anyone can have absolutely any conversation in the notes of your post that they like. This is how the website works. You are allowed to complain about it, but don’t expect anyone to humor you. I think it’s possible to make posts unrebloggable and disable replies, but this is essentially refusing to use Tumblr. If you want to do that... go ahead, I guess?

Many people have ‘DNI’ lists in their blog descriptions. This means ‘do not interact’ and indicates that they don’t want you to message them, reblog from them, reblog any posts they are OP of, or even, sometimes, ‘like’ their posts. It is good manners to respect these, if you know they exist, but in normal use you probably won’t look at blog descriptions very often so it is entirely okay to violate them by accident. (When the lists get very long, it becomes impractical to check whether you violate them. Generally, just skip it. You probably don’t want to interact with those people anyway.)

Notes on posts you start will go to you no matter how many intervening hops there are on the reblog chain. If you get a post with an enormous amount of notes, this can get overwhelming. Whatever the current incarnation of Xkit (basically RES for Tumblr except we’ve switched names and maintainers seven times) is, will have a setting to deal with this. If that’s insufficient, the suggested course of action is to reblog your OP to your own blog so that you have a copy for posterity’s sake, and then delete the OP. This silences the notes.

If you and another user both follow each other, you are ‘mutuals’. This makes it much easier to have conversations with each other, which is ordinarily sort of hard since everything is purely chronological. Frequently your mutuals are your friends; if not yet true, they may become your friends.

When you reblog things, you can write words both in the word part and in the tags, Modern tumblr norms are to write long rambling tags in full sentences rather than put words in the main body. Unlike some other norms, violating this one and putting your response in the body of the reblog is not particularly rude. The worst it does is make a reblog chain long. Probably don’t reblog things and just say “This.”, though.

Tags can be subjected to peer review, by which we mean someone copy-pastes your tags and/or screenshots them and adds them to the main body of their reblog. Generally this is a compliment. The alternative is to say “#prev tags”, and this makes everyone hate you because it’s hard to find which tags were ‘prev’. Please just peer review properly if they’re good.

If you want to search your blog, consider Siikr. Don’t overuse it, it’s one guy’s project.

Be verbose! This ain’t Twitter, no character limit. (Not even the really large character limit of a reddit comment.) Write a 3000-word story in a single reblog if you want, that sounds awesome. Use ‘read more’ if you do, though. Posts can be very long, one of our oldest memes is about this.

Infinite scroll is the default, but you can turn it off. Actually, check all the settings, many of them will improve your experience.

On queues: Go nuts. Some people put everything in the queue, some people almost nothing. Some queue specific aestheticposting (personally I do #too smol) and post other things normally. Most people who queue a lot add a queue-specific tag like #the mighty queue or #this queue shall pass, or at least I notice them more than poasters with untagged queues.

You know how Reddit lets you buy Gold and people go 'thanks for the gold kind stranger'? On tumblr we spend money on Tumblr Blaze, and it is considered the PvP section of Tumblr. Though sometimes people actually use it to spread posts they like, such as people attempting to evangelize Christianity (no, really, that happened a lot) or the, I hope, actually-kind stranger who blazed this OP. You can turn off PvP with one of the many settings.

Everybody be excellent to each other!

[itsnevercasual]

Sweet Creature

harry styles masterlist

pairing: kinda dark!harry styles x reader

summary: harry’s mother finds a girl on the side of the street one day while harry’s away. he hears about her for months, until he finally decides to see for himself. expecting her to be an undercover rat, he is surprised to find a girl more similar to a deer in headlights.

warning: kinda dark harry kinda alludes to him doing illegal, mafia type stuff but it isn’t specified. third person writing instead of second, READER DOESN’T USE HER REAL NAME!!! she will eventually just not yet.

—

harry had been hearing about some girl non-stop. by who, you may ask?

his mother.

his sweet, kind mother somehow found a girl who was living on the streets, took her in (gave her his room!), and is obsessed with her.

“oh, harry, she’s just the sweetest! gemma says she’s like a kicked puppy, but she’s just so sweet. this morning, i woke up, and she’d cleaned the whole house! and i asked her why, because i obviously didn’t tell her to, and she said she figured she should. you’d love her. proper sweetheart.”

and honestly, it was sweet. he probably would like her if he wasn’t the way he is. because the way he is, he thinks it’s a trap. he thinks she was never really living on the streets, and it’s a ploy. someone found his family and is trying to ruin it.

but, of course, he’d never let his mother know of the way he actually is and thinks, or what he does for a living.

“she sounds lovely, mum. what did you say her name was?”

“she says it’s belle. she’s always singing some french song. i think she lived in france before she got here.. i’m not sure. she isn’t very talkative.”

“she got an accent?”

“a little bit of everything, hazza. when will you come visit? i think you have to be the one to tell her that your room is hers now. she keeps saying ‘harry’s room’ and ‘your son’s room’. i feel horrible!”

“she’s probably just weary mum. if she was on the streets before, she probably just doesn’t want to jinx it.”

“you’re right.. gosh, she won’t even let gemma and i buy her things. she just borrows gemma’s clothes and apologizes a bunch for it. i’m not sure what to do.”

“i’ll come visit soon.”

—

and he did. a surprise visit in the middle of the night, because he was convinced he’s find this belle girl doing shady things .

except when he snuck in the front door, the house was quiet.

alright, he supposes, she’s stealthy.

so he goes upstairs and quietly opens his bedroom door.

and that’s when it’s a little louder. a girl is twisted and turning and mumbling in her sleep on his bed.

all she is saying, from what he can hear, is no. no, no, no, no, no. please, no.

and he feels a little bad, so he walks over to tap her. when that doesn’t work, he shakes her.

her eyes snap open and she has probably the worst reaction possible in this situation.

she fucking screams. like a goddamn banshee.

and sure, it lasts for maybe five seconds, probably four, but she definitely woke his mother up. and it’s so loud, he backs up to the doorway.

gemma was probably still passed out. she would sleep through the world ending.

“hey! it’s just me, calm down!”

she squinted at him through the darkness before yanking the chain on the lamp, turning it on.

he could hear her practically hyperventilating from the doorway.

she let out a sigh of relief when she recognized him from the photos in the living room.

“you really are jumpy, huh?”

“i woke up to a random man hovering over me,” she deadpans.

he almost laughs.

“it’s my room.”

and it’s like a fucking switch. her breaths are staggered and labored, but she still rushes out a whole ass monologue. kicked puppy, indeed.

“oh, my god. i am so sorry. i forgot. i can— i can take the couch— you probably want to sleep in your bed. i’m sorry, anne didn’t say you were coming by or else i would’ve cleaned up—“

the room is spotless, probably cleaner than when he stays in it, but harry doesn’t say that.

“i’ll just.. grab my blanket and stuff and go to the couch. i’m so sorry, i didn’t know—“

“relax,” he finally says. “i knew you’d be in here. i was just.. grabbing a pillow. didn’t realize mum was serious about you being jumpy.”

“oh.. uh.. are you sure? i can take the couch—“

“belle— belle, right?” she nods. “go back to bed. i have slept on plenty of couches. i will survive.”

“i feel bad.”

“well, don’t.”

he should feel bad. she is very clearly not dangerous unless she is a phenomenal actress.

“you’re not mad, are you? because i can sleep on the couch—“

“jesus, are y’gonna cry?”

“i can’t help it! i’m sorry!—“

“what on earth is going on— harry! what did you do!” anne asked as she rushed through the doorway, moving to sit next to belle.

“i didn’t do anything!” he defends.

“he didn’t do anything, anne,” she repeats. “just.. frightened me, is all.”

anne gives her a look before pulling her into a hug, and she just flips another switch and instead of watering eyes, she sobs.

who the hell is her acting coach? maybe he could take a few lessons.

“h, go get her a cuppa.. and there’s those baby yogurt melts in the cupboard.”

he doesn’t comment on the fact that belle is at the very least 19, and probably shouldn’t be eating baby food.

—

the next morning, belle made her way downstairs quietly. she was surprised to see harry making a cup of tea this early, but she didn’t say anything, not wanting to disturb his peace.

she adjusted her earbuds in her ear (anne offered to buy her better ones, airpods or something, but she was fine with her earbuds, even if the wire was a pain in the ass), so they didn’t fall out as she walked.

once she made it into the kitchen, she walked into the pantry, grabbing some random granola bar.

when she turned, she jumped. harry was right behind her. well, in front of her now.

“sorry,” she mumbled, moving out of his way.

he muttered something she didn’t understand.

“um.. sorry about.. last night. i’m kind of jumpy.”

“i noticed.”

he was very short. he didn’t seem to like her much.

“you can.. uh.. take your.. room back.. if you want.”

“it’s yours. i’m fine.”

“are you—“

“i’m sure.”

rude. why was he so rude? what had she done to him? well, besides scream at him, but in her defense, he was just hovering over her! that’s weird!

—

harry still didn’t trust her after a week of being there. she kept to herself for the most part, although he was pretty sure he heard her and gemma giggling in the middle of the night.

he just couldn’t figure out who sent her. why she was here.

his mother explained her freakout when he showed up eventually.

“you gotta be careful with her, h. she’s like.. a bunny, in a way. if you aren’t careful in how you approach her and speak to her, she bolts. first day she was here, i asked her what happened, because she had this horrible cut on her cheek. locked herself in your room for a week. i think whatever put her on the streets is a sensitive topic, and was difficult for her.”

“i jus’ dunno if i trust her, mum.”

“well, i do. she’s sweet, she just needs to warm up to you. she warmed up to me and gemma after about a week or two.. and she’s been more jumpy when gem brings michael around. so.. she might just need a minute.”

“the whole thing just seems.. shady.”

“she’ll tell us when she’s ready. and until then, you’ll make her feel welcomed. speaking of, i’m gonna go wash her clothes. poor girl won’t let us buy her anything. she just has these same clothes she had and a few things gemma convinced her to use.”

—

a/n: little thing i wrote on a plane, part 2 soon-ish maybe

[hotteoki]

change of heart (j.w.y.)

pairing: suitor!wooyoung x princess!reader

genre: arranged marriage, medieval era, strangers to lovers

cw: one swear word

wc: 5k

notes: hi @daesukiii i was your secret admirer! i hope you like this fic i definitely went overboard on 😭 this was heavily inspired by the 'brave' movie!

synopsis: when you're forced into an unwilling, arranged marriage where your husband is decided by a competition with three contests, will an stranger be able to find his way into your life to befriend you and turn your future around?

you sat on your throne, picking at your fingernails while waiting for the clans to arrive. to your right sat your father, and to his right sat your mother, and your brother jongho sat in his throne to your left. he was trying to catch your gaze so he could apologise, except you had no intentions of forgiving him anytime soon. he had told your mother about your complaining towards this whole arranged marriage; since then, your mother had been keeping an exceptionally close eye on you, determined to make you look as “presentable for the suitors” as possible.

upon jongho poking your arm, you snapped your head to him, giving him the worst glare you could muster, which didn’t faze him at all. he gave you a gummy smile at your narrowed eyes, before leaning over to you, speaking quietly, “i am sorry, truly, but i thought it would be really funny… and it is!” he laughed at his own words, leaning back into his seat. you honestly had half a mind to snitch on him to your mother about the real reason why there were muddy footprints everywhere in the throne room yesterday. “i will kill you!” you whisper-shouted at him, sending him a threatening look, resulting in a harsh call of your name from your mother. you turned to her, and found her glaring at you with her index finger raised to her lips shushing you. you spluttered, gesturing to jongho, “he started it!” “it does not matter who started it! the suitors will be here in any minute and you are still not sitting up straight!” she responded sternly, facing the entrance of the room to indicate the end of the conversation. oh, you were so going to snitch on that little bastard.

before you could think of any other plans to get back at jongho, the grand doors to the throne room opened. out of instinct, you straightened your back and placed your crossed hands on your lap. the three clans marched in, each led by their leading lord and his son, who was to be a suitor for your betrothal. as the clans settled in their respective areas, you distinctly heard jongho scoffing at one of the suitors flexing his muscles. your mother began her speech about the three challenges the suitors will have to compete in for your hand in marriage. you blocked out her words, having heard it one too many times while she was practising, your eyes accidentally landing on possibly the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life. you prayed to every deity in existence you hadn’t stared at him for too long.

you waited impatiently for the first two lords to introduce themselves as clan park and clan kim respectively, unable to contain a smile forming when it was time for the third and final clan to introduce themselves. “your majesty, i present my heir and only son, wooyoung, who single-handedly took down a fleet of 1,000 men, and retrieved the ships the once-standing clan chun had stolen from clan kim and clan lee.” ‘wooyoung’ stood confidently, hands resting on the hilt of his sword, the tip of the impressive weapon pressed against the stony ground. when the focus was no longer on him, you caught sight of wooyoung shaking his head subtly, holding an aggravated expression on his face. you couldn’t help but tilt your head in confusion over his behaviour, but decided to push it to the back of your head, turning to look at your mother once more.

you took your seat on your throne, now moved outdoors to watch the first challenge: javelin throwing. the suitors took their places behind the line, each standing next to the javelin they chose. park youngjae of clan park was first. he swiftly picked up his javelin, throwing with ease, turning away without looking at where it landed to blow you an arrogant kiss, smirking at the loud cheers from the members of clan park and letting out a holler himself, flexing his muscles smugly again. you stared at him, appalled and disturbed at his actions, giving a pleading look at a laughing jongho, silently begging him to put you out of your misery.

next was kim chanwook of clan kim. he walked a few metres away from the line, before charging forward and letting go of his javelin. you had to contain your snickers over the pathetic landing a mere 20 metres away from the line out of politeness. you hadn’t even thought such a low score was possible. your father sucked in a deep breath through his teeth from beside you, “i would have run off in shame if i were him. poor guy.”

wooyoung was the final contestant. he tossed his javelin lazily, barely putting any effort in, scoring himself a solid 45 metres. you couldn’t help but find it impressive; despite his attempt at a weak throw, the distance of his javelin was a good score. good to know someone’s fed up as well, though, you thought to yourself. your father nudged you with his shoulder, leaning closer to you to whisper, “he definitely could have beat mister show-off here.” he gestured to youngjae. you nodded at his words, earning yourself a scowl from your mother. you were also almost certain you were the only one who noticed wooyoung scoffing at youngjae basking in the compliments from the circle of servants and maids alike who had crowded around him.

though you were glad you could relate to wooyoung about the ridiculousness of this all, you silently wished he would at least try in the competitions, deeply hoping he would be the winner, and allow you to take his hand in marriage.

you laid in bed, tossing and turning, unable to find comfort in your normally cosy bed. your mind constantly travelled to wooyoung, finding irritation in how he hadn’t spared a single glance at you all day, behaving as if the whole purpose of the competition wasn’t for you. perhaps that was a little hypocritical of you to think– hating this forced marriage yet wanting a slimmer of attention from one of the attractive suitors more than anything.

as you threw your thin duvet off, goosebumps travelled down your entire body for a second and caused you to shiver slightly. you swung your legs off the bed, hoping a walk around the castle corridors would soothe your head. retrieving the unused candle from your bedside drawer, you lit it up using the torch and stepped out of your room, eying up and down the empty corridors, only a select few soldiers standing near every entrance, seeming to be dozing off.

your hands trailed along the stone-built walls to support the dim lighting from your candle, attempting to ignore the pounding feeling in your chest over any dangers that could be lurking around the corners. despite jongho’s continuous convincing of how safe your castle was, your gut couldn’t help but send signals of something different about tonight. you paused in your tracks, debating whether to continue or not. breathing out through your nose, you listened to the voice in your head and turned around, deciding to return to your room after all.

you managed to make around fifteen steps before a body walked straight into you. you jumped backwards, instinctively shoving the candle in the person’s face, illuminating wooyoung’s stoic expression. “oh. it’s you,” you stated simply, silently berating yourself for acting so embarrassingly in front of him. he raised an eyebrow, “you are not asleep, princess?” you shrugged, “couldn’t sleep. then again, neither are you.” he looked away for a second, before focusing his gaze back on you, “that’s fair.”

the awkward tension in between you was palpable, neither of you speaking aloud, his eyes remaining on your figure while yours darted anywhere but him. “well, i shall see you tomorrow, then.” he manoeuvred around you, beginning to walk away from you. you couldn’t let this opportunity go now. you had to do something.

he turned back at you, sounding confused as he asked, “yes, princess?” you were just as confused as him for a moment, before letting go of his sleeve. you hadn’t realised you grabbed it in the spur of the moment. you opened and closed your mouth, attempting to form your words. he gave you a small smile, almost to encourage you. swallowing thickly, you ignored your flaming cheeks and answered him, “we have a courtyard. it is my favourite spot to escape a sleepless night.” you mentally pat your back, congratulating yourself for managing to speak to him without stuttering, sending him one last glance before turning back once more to return to your room.

“you have not told me its location.”

fuck.

you turned back around sheepishly, avoiding his expectant eyes while rubbing the back of your neck, “continue down this hallway and go down the corridor at the first turn on your right. the courtyard should be a few metres down.” your face was burning up, and it was definitely reddening. you could only hope wooyoung took it as an illusion from your candle and his.

he nodded with an amused smile, raising his eyebrows, “alright. thank you, princess.” he bowed slightly, leaving you to your own thoughts in the middle of the corridor as the light to his candle fades in the distance.

you sat at the empty dining hall, having woken up earlier than anyone in the castle. it was a habit you found yourself having picked up a week before the suitors arrived. perhaps the peace and tranquillity of being by yourself grounded you subconsciously.

needless to say, you weren’t expecting the grand doors to open slowly. you looked up from your plate, startled, only relaxing until you met the soft gaze of wooyoung.

“apologies. i did not realise anyone would be awake already,” he spoke with such tenderness you never thought was possible. “neither,” you replied, gesturing at the empty seat to your left for him to sit. he obliged, albeit hesitantly, clearly unfamiliar with what to do to get his breakfast.

you nodded once to the servant by your right, “he shall have the same as me, please.” she responds with a great bow, scuttling off to inform the cooks and other servants. your focus returns to wooyoung, who had his head tilted in curiosity. “what is it?” you ask politely, finding his unfaltering gaze unsettling. “nothing. i have just never seen a princess be so… kind to her servants.” you frowned slightly at that. the way you treated your servants earlier was the bare minimum, just how bad were the princesses he’s met before? his meal arrived soon enough, brought to him by a different servant, and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence.

“so what-” you were interrupted by the bursting of the grand doors to the dining hall, accompanied by loud clamouring from the rest of the suitors and their servants. wooyoung stood to move away from you so as to not be branded a cheater by attempting to get closer to you in private times.

“and what do we have here? our beloved princess and a sneaky little fox?” youngjae laughed loudly, but there was no humour behind it. he nudged chanwook by his arm, gesturing for him to chime in as well, though from his expression, it was more of a command from youngjae. “y-yes, it seems so, youngjae.”

he wrinkled his nose in disgust, “do not call me by my name.” he bumps past chanwook to loop an arm around wooyoung’s shoulder, squeezing around his torso, almost as a threat, “so? anything to say for yourself, jung? or will this be a problem i will have to bring up to the majesties-” “i asked for him.”

youngjae faltered at your now standing form, stuttering a little, “w-what? what, uh,” he chuckled nervously before continuing, “what are you talking about, princess?” you stepped around the corner of the table to stand in front of both wooyoung and youngjae, plastering a stern look, initiating the one permanently etched on your mother’s face, “i asked for him. is that a problem, park youngjae?”

he immediately stepped back, putting a distance between both you and wooyoung, bitterness leaving his tongue as he spoke, “no, it is not. you are the princess, after all.”

he left swiftly, yanking on chanwook’s arm to follow, leaving only you and wooyoung along with a few servants remaining in the room. you released the breath you had been holding, having lost your appetite now. “you didn’t have to do that, princess. i would have left on my own volition,” wooyoung murmured, finding it difficult to meet your eyes for the first time since he met you.

“is there a reason why i should not have done what i did?” you replied back with sincerity, beginning to doubt your previous actions. wooyoung was silent for a few seconds, and you thought he was trying to find a way to thank you, until he opened his mouth: “do not ever do that again.”

you blinked, and suddenly you were left alone in the dining hall.

what?

afternoon came and it was time for the second contest. you sat on your throne once again to watch the suitors take their places behind the lines, ready to run. you couldn’t help but frown at wooyoung’s lack of interest at you, a strong wave of deja vu washing over you .his eyes only trained at the finishing line in front; you thought you had been getting closer with each other, but at the same time, you weren’t so sure you wanted to speak to him at the moment either way.

the pistol rings and the suitors sprint off. your father hollers in excitement, cheering the suitors on, egging jongho to do the same as well. your breath hitched as the suitors got closer and closer to the line, approximately 30 metres away.

25 metres.

youngjae was in the lead.

20 metres.

wooyoung overtook him.

15 metres.

youngjae quickly regained his spot.

10 metres.

wooyoung ran with a sudden burst of energy.

5 metres…

4…

3…

2…

1…

youngjae won.

you exhaled sharply. wooyoung turned to your direction, meeting your strained face. he turned away immediately.

your mother jerked her head once towards youngjae. you swallowed with difficulty, getting up from your throne and making your way over to him, passing by wooyoung in the process. you didn’t bother sparing him a single glance.

“congratulations, young lord park,” you spoke stiffly, tempted to tug your hand away from him as he held it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “why, thank you, princess. do i get a prize now?” he barked out a greasy laugh, wiggling his eyebrows at you suggestively. “no,” you responded simply, retracting your hand from his grasp.

youngjae’s expression turned cold, his snarky attitude morphing into a disdainful one, “i see.” his eyes landed on wooyoung’s behind you, a smirk growing on his face. he looked back at you, “no worries, princess.”

you could practically see the gears running inside his head.

you found yourself sitting alone on the ground of your courtyard, a book perched on your lap. no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t focus on its contents. your mind was befuddled from the idea of having to marry youngjae, given the chances of that happening was growing with the way he had won both contests, and was likely to win the third one. you shuffled further backwards, allowing the shadows of the large tree engulf you whole, hiding you away from even the stars’ sights. 

you closed the book, shutting your eyes briefly, focusing on the sound of crickets chirping quietly and the gentle swishing of the leaves, until the calmness was broken by two chittering servants walking past. you moved your ear to the general direction, hoping to eavesdrop in their conversation for some form of entertainment. 

“did you hear lord jung’s talk with his son earlier? what was his name again?” “wooyoung,” the other servant finished for her friend, “i did hear. miyeon told me everything. he said he didn’t want to marry the princess, right? that’s why he’s losing on purpose.” you faltered at that, did you truly read into his behaviour too much? “i know. so unexpected! the princess is one of the sweetest people i’ve ever met, why would he not want to marry her?” you smiled at the servant’s words, finding it refreshing to have a good reputation amongst the residents of the castle. 

“i suppose he thinks he’s too young to marry, and i agree with him. i mean, we’re both the same age as the princess, and i’d be mortified at the thought of having to marry so soon!” the two girls murmured in agreement, before the first servant continued, “i do feel horrible for the princess, though. she’s most likely to end up with the young lord park, and the heavens know what he’s doing to her.” your ears perked up, eyebrows furrowing over what she said. “what do you mean?” the second servant voiced your question out, seeming just as unaware as you. 

“have you not heard the rumours? he’s been telling everyone about how the princess approached him and has been in an attitude because he rejected her.” you sat up completely straight at that, fighting the urge to cry out in bewilderment. “how do you know it’s just a rumour?” “my brother was there at the dining hall that day. he himself served young lord jung his breakfast. young lord park was the one who was turned down by the princess.” the second servant scoffed quietly, “how pathetic of him!” 

“shush!” the first girl hissed, speaking much quieter now, “do not forget, we are still below the suitors, no matter how horrid they are. should they hear what we’re saying, they’ll come for our heads!” their retreating footsteps fade after a few seconds and you could only assume they had a silent exchange in glances to continue their gossip later, away from prying ears. you leaned back against the bark of the tree again. you had to tell jongho. 

you never got the opportunity to. your mother spent the entirety of the next morning dressing you up in extravagant wear, chiding you for not presenting yourself as desirable for the suitors earlier. you were reminded constantly by her that you would have to prepare to be a suitable wife for your husband soon, no matter who he will be. 

you didn’t see wooyoung either. he wasn’t present at breakfast nor did you see him during the time before the third and final contest; contrasting to youngjae, who seemed to be everywhere, flirting with the maids and proudly bragging about his archery skills, which was the sport of the day. chanwook stuck close to his father throughout the morning, whinging to him and looking like he was on the verge of tears. 

you felt your mother pat your cheek with her palm, driving you out of your thoughts. her lips were pursed into a tense line as she caressed your cheekbone back and forth, beginning to speak in a hushed tone, “i know you do not want any of this, my daughter, but you must also realise it is necessary. breaking this betrothal could harm our kingdom deeply, you know this.” you exhaled deeply, shutting your eyes in defeat, “i do.” she nodded once in satisfaction, stepping back and moving to leave your room, “i shall see you at the field in a while, then.”

moving to your window, your eyes scanned the large field below. it was filled with men from the three clans, servants and maids from your own castle, the three lords bickering with each other by the front, and their sons, the suitors, standing behind a white line, facing a target stood up at a long distance from him. you noticed wooyoung was on the field, fixing the bow in his hand. judging from his nervous stance, you suspected he was not experienced in archery. almost as if he could hear your thoughts, his head tilted up to the direction of your tower, until he met your shocked eyes through the glass window of your room. you immediately recoiled backwards until your back touched the wall opposite the window, a few metres away from where you were just now. you swallowed thickly out of nervousness before making your way down to the field.

the conversation between the two servants from last night still ran wild in your head. if what they said was true, if wooyoung was truly losing on purpose, then this contest is pointless, for chanwook stood no chance against youngjae. you feel the frustration inside your body bubbling up, though you suspect it was mixed with the bottled up dread and anger towards marrying a complete stranger, his obnoxious behaviour only adding to it. “hey,” jongho’s concerned voice rang in your left ear. you turned to look at his worried eyes, his hand reaching for your shoulder, “are you okay?” you batted his hand away with a reassuring smile, “i’m fine.” he was about to say more, but was interrupted by the loud bellow of the starting horn to indicate the beginning of the contest. knowing his personality, he would bug you about what was bothering you until you gave it up, though. 

youngjae pulled his string backwards, flexing his muscles intentionally to swoon the multiple servants standing behind him. deja vu kicked in for the second time when you saw wooyoung roll his eyes once again, and your frown morphed into a barely concealed smile subconsciously. before you realise it, youngjae had already released his arrow, landing on the red circle of the target, only a few centimetres away from the yellow centre. you were impressed by how he played off his embarrassment, however. he commented coolly about the scorching sun being in his eyes and locking eyes with wooyoung menacingly, almost daring him to do any better than him. 

you didn’t bother paying any attention to chanwook, only concentrating on wooyoung’s microexpressions. your attempts proved futile when he carried a blank face throughout chanwook’s failing try, the wailing boy scoring himself null points when his arrow landed nowhere near his target. you wished you could say you ignored wooyoung the same way you did to chanwook, but you couldn’t. you were transfixed on his smooth movements and the way he seemed to tug on the string of his bow with ease, youngjae’s sniggers having no effect on him whatsoever.

you’ve already planned out how your new life with youngjae would be. you would have to worship the grounds he walks on, praise his every miniscule movement even if it was something as simple as breathing, stand by his side permanently to make him look good-

your nightmarish thoughts were cut short by your father’s whoops, along with jongho jumping up as well, their excitement so contagious even your mother was unable to help but stand and clap. you instinctively followed her movements, moving up to your feet but raising an eyebrow in confusion, what were they cheering for? that was when you saw it. 

wooyoung’s arrow.

shot dead centre of the target.

you stared in astonishment, realising your previous assumptions about wooyoung being inexperienced had been entirely wrong. when you flickered your eyes to him, he was already watching you, and you would’ve said he was watching you emotionlessly had his sparkling eyes not given him away. you knew then, he was just as exhilarated as you were. 

“it does not matter, though, does it?” youngjae’s voice boomed over all the music and cheering. the field turned quiet once more as everyone listened intently to his echoing words. “i won the first two contests. i win overall, no?” there were a series of agreeing murmurs, wooyoung’s bright eyes flashing with worry over them. “no.” for a moment, you wondered where the voice came from, until you realised from all the peering eyes that you were the one who spoke out. 

you breathed in deeply, stepping down from the small platform and out into the sun, walking slowly and steadily towards the suitors. your mind was screaming for you to turn back around, to accept your fate with youngjae, to listen to your mother and simply be the perfect wife; but your heart overrode every indecisive word in your brain. “it wouldn’t be fair on woo- on young lord jung to discredit this spectacular win,” you gestured to wooyoung’s arrow, mentally cringing over how over-dramatised your words are, yet they seemed to be convincing enough for the people, as another wave of murmurs came about. 

“princess-” “we shall have one final contest to determine the final winner,” you cut youngjae off short, finding delight in the way he begrudgingly shut his mouth. you allowed a few tense moments to pass before revealing, “a dance.” “a dance?!” he spluttered incredulously, spinning around to watch others’ reactions. “i don’t see a problem with it,” wooyoung retorted, speaking from behind him. “of course you don’t,” youngjae sneered at him. there was a deadly silence until your father clapped awkwardly, “well! if the princess decides on a dance, then a dance it shall be to decide the final suitor! whichever suitor– young lord park or young lord jung, wins the heart of our daughter shall be her future husband!” 

you sat on the stool by your vanity, putting on your accessories and checking yourself in the mirror, doing anything to calm down the nerves in your system and your pounding heart. you heard a knock from outside your bedroom door and you called them in. 

jongho, all dressed up in his princely attire, peeked around your door, coming inside and shutting the door behind him. he makes himself comfortable on the edge of your bed before opening his mouth, “choose jung.” you looked at him through your mirror wordlessly, before standing up to smooth out your grand ball gown. you dared yourself to ask, “why?”

jongho rolled his eyes, giving you an exasperated face, “i know you. you are my sister, after all. you like him.” he stood to help with your necklace when he saw you struggling, “besides, i hear things too, you know.” he didn’t need to say it aloud for you to know he was indicating the rumours youngjae started.

he stepped back, allowing you to turn around and look at him gratefully. “thank you, you can be really helpful sometimes when you’re not absolutely annoying.” he let out a loud laugh at your words, shrugging slightly. he held out his elbow for you to take, which you did, and he guided the both of you to the ballroom.

you loitered around the busy ballroom, eyes moving from one excited person to another. you were glad everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do the same when you couldn’t even find wooyoung. you already had a dance with youngjae earlier, and it was uncomfortable, to say the least. he spent the entire dance bragging to you about his achievements and gripping your waist tightly to bring your attention back to him whenever your eyes strayed. 

you were worrying endlessly over your fate. if, by the end of the night, wooyoung hadn’t come to find you and ask for a dance, youngjae would be the automatic winner by default. he would indeed be the final suitor and become your husband.

“may i have this dance?” someone tapped your shoulder gently. you spun around to meet wooyoung’s awaiting eyes, and words couldn’t describe the relief you felt seeing his now familiar smile. “you may,” you placed your hand on his outstretched one, following his steps to the centre of the ballroom.

you allowed a few uncomfortable moments to pass before blurting out, “why are you doing this?” the question you had been pondering for the past few hours would finally be answered now. wooyoung unintentionally clenched his hand resting on your waist at your words, before he relaxed once more, his fingers tracing circles around the area he just squeezed on accident. “should i not be?”

you pursed your lips at how vague his answer was. he noticed your reaction and modified it, “i meant, as a suitor, is that not what i am expected to do?” you contemplated whether to tell him what you heard from the servants or not, before deciding on a half-truth, “i suppose it was odd, considering what you said that morning and the unwillingness you had been carrying for the past week. it left the impression you were not looking to marry me…

wooyoung chuckled at your hesitance, choosing to answer you truthfully this time, “ah, i see. no, princess, i merely would not allow youngjae to stir up rumours about me cheating my way into winning, which caused my harsh reaction. i do apologise for that,” he flashed you a comforting smile, “and you should know, princess, i actually do enjoy sports quite a lot. ironically, i am the best at javelin throwing and archery. well, not so much in running.” you laughed softly at his last comment.

“i will admit, ashamedly, i had been pretending not to be the athlete my father promotes frequently– not at all to do with you, princess, of course. i simply was not sure i was ready to marry yet,” wooyoung paused for a couple of seconds, sucking in a deep breath through his teeth and continuing, “after the second contest, however, i’ve had a change of heart, you see. what young lord park said…” he shook his head in disappointment, “how could i let such a vile man marry the sweetest soul i’d ever met?” you found yourself shying into your figure at his comment, head lowering to look at his shoes until he squeezed your waist gently, causing you to look up at his endearing face again.

“but i suppose it all boils down to your decision now, does it not?” he tilted his head playfully, his eyes twinkling with mischief. neither of you had to voice out the fact that wooyoung had already won from the start.

networks: @kflixnet k-labels kbookshelf neverendingdreams-net straykidsland @k-films @pirateeznet

[wolfiesmoon]

Deal or no deal

Azul x gn!reader

finally writing for my baby boy azul, i can't believe it took this long since i am an azul girlie myself

a very funny silly definitely innocent business man methinks

"First, tell me what you desire. We can take it from there." Azul smiled slyly, interlocking his hands as he leaned on his elbows.

You were currently located in his private office, about to sign a contract with him. You had to think long and hard about coming to him, but you figured that if anyone can fulfill your wish, it would be Azul. You feel kind of guilty asking him for this in the first place.

You see, you've been in love with Azul for a good amount of time now, but are too afraid to make a move. You beat yourself up for being such a coward every day, and even moreso right now because you're about to ask him if he can make "someone you've had your eye on" fall in love with you. You're not sure what exactly he does to make it happen, but you hope it's doable without much instructions on your end. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Though you still feel like a bit of a villain for doing this at all.

Your guilt and nerves are probably showing in your body language, too. Which you suppose only makes Azul more interested in learning what you desire. You can practically feel the grins on the Leech twin's faces, too. It's like they genuinely like seeing you nervous and scared.

Why are they even here, anyways?

"I want... someone to fall in love with me. Someone who I've had my eye on for a while now." you fidget with your fingers, unable to look Azul in the eye when you say this.

"That's..." he tried his best to hold back from laughing but a snort escaped from his lips anyways. "Forgive the reaction, your wish was just... unexpected."

You suppose he thought your wish would be more sinister because of your body language. Or way more embarrasing. But still...

"Ehhhh, I didn't know Shrimpy was in love..." Floyd's eyes were slightly widened but his creepy grin was still as wide as ever. "It is quite surprising, indeed." Jade added on. By the suspicously calm way they're acting, you have no idea if the twins already know about your little crush and are just acting along or if they're actually surprised.

"Yeah, uhhh, I guess that's it?..." you had no idea what else to tell him. You just hope that this can be over as soon as possible since things are getting really awkward.

"I can certainly do something for you. Tell me, what is their name? They attend this school, I assume." Azul seemed delighted. Probably because that means he'll get free labour from you as a collateral. You don't have any magic to offer him, after all.

"T... their name? Is that required?" You froze up. There's no way you can say that. That would be the worst way for your feelings to get outed, ever. You suppose it makes sense, though. He can't do anything if he doesn't know who you're in love with.

"But of course it is. Don't worry, judgement has no place in business affairs." He smiled reassuringly at you. You felt your face heat up. No, no, nope. You can't do this. Not like this.

"You know what.... Never mind. I can't do it." You abruptly stood up from the cushy office chair, apologising curtly before practically bolting out of his office.

"Oh my god, that was so bad... oh my god..." you mumbled to yourself when you were out of Octavinelle. You just royally embarrased yourself in front of your crush.

Was it obvious?

.

"What was that about?" Floyd pouted at the direction of the door, which you left slightly ajar in your panic to escape the situation as soon as possible.

"Hmmm... how odd." Jade looked deep in thought about something.

"This is why I tell you to stop coming to my office when I'm trying to make a deal. You scared the poor thing off." Azul shook his head dissaprovingly.

"That wasn't our fault. Shrimpy was acting super weird the whole time anyways." Floyd defended himself and his brother.

"I suppose you're right..." Azul took a deep breath, seemingly... relieved? Not about the fact you ran away, but still relieved for some reason.

Jade made a realisation. "Oh. I see. I see."

He smiled knowingly at Azul, who raised a brow. "What is it? Is there something on my face?"

"No, it's nothing. Don't worry."

Azul gets the feeling that Jade knows something, but doesn't want to tell him.

"If you say so."

[spacecasehobbit]

After seeing yet another popular tumblr post with thousands of reblogs bemoaning the state of comments on fanfics these days - more specifically, the supposed lack of commenting these days, as opposed to The Good Old Days - I have decided that this is in fact a hill I am willing to die on. I'm making a separate post about it rather than reblogging the latest iteration, though. This is hardly the first time I've seen these types of discussions, and my issue is with the mindset in general, not any of the specific people who hold it.

In the most recent version, the entire post with all its various arguments and assertions was plenty frustrating across the board, but it included one line in particular that cut beautifully to the heart of my issue with this type of discussion. The line in question:

"fanfic authors now are treated like content mills, and not like valued members of a creative community who thrive on interaction."

Once I read this bit, I had to stop, take a few deep breaths, and then go make my own post before I imploded over the sheer level of NOPE this line inspired. And okay. The thing is... I want to say this as gently and kindly as I possibly can, but I need to be real blunt for a minute, too.

That line I quoted sounds like a wannabe social media influencer.

It sounds like a person who thinks fandom is - or should be - comprised of fanfiction writers, aka Valued Content Creators, and their respective communities of readers, aka Content Consumers, a strictly distinct group from fic writers, for whom they create fanfiction content and who in turn pay them back with attention and validation in the form of comments and praise.

It does not sound like a fanfiction author who enjoys the creative hobby of writing stories based on characters and worlds from existing stories, engaging in their hobby within a community of other likeminded creators of fan content.

Frankly, fandom has always been worst when it starts obsessing over Big Name Fans who wind up treated like elite fandom social influencers, instead of hobbyists engaging in a fun hobby together based on mutual interests. A shift towards the idea that every fanfic writer should be effectively a social media influencer whose community consists of fans reading the content they oh-so-lovingly create (but only if they get enough positive attention from passive consumers, presumably readers who don't write their own fic or expect comments back from the author in return) sounds like an absolutely awful direction for fandom to take.

I don't want fanfiction and fandom spaces to turn into another social media space full of Our Valued Content Creators, all fighting to build the largest "community" of passive consumers turned devoted followers.

Again, that sounds frankly fucking awful.

The people who only read fanfiction are not your fanfiction community, because they are not engaging in the shared community hobby of writing fanfiction. Your fanfiction community is, perhaps, the other people who are also writing their own fanfiction based on someone else's original work.

So perhaps if comments really are declining on fics these days, instead of asking why passive readers aren't heaping praise on every fic they read and making sure it all happens where the Valued Creator can hear it, you should ask yourself how many other fanfics you've commented on recently, and then go comment on another one if you're still feeling down about your own work.

Or, I dunno, find a fic author you admire and send them a message on tumblr, if you've already commented on all of their fics that you read and enjoyed.

Or start your own discord for likeminded fans, or find a way to set up your own fandom forums centered on your personal fandom interests and invite other fic authors to come join.

Or, like, anything that involves reaching out to the actual community of hobbyists you can reasonably consider to be a community you are actually a part of.

Aka, other fanfiction writers.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

CHAPTER FOUR WAS SO GOOD UGHH literally the only fanfic I have ever loved so much and wait for updates like this. Am so excited for the next one!!!

On the topic of finally opening requests, I was wondering if I could ask for head-canons of what a relationship with Seishiro and a female reader would be like. If we want to be specific, maybe related to the fanfic? Like, how you would imagine their relationship would have been like back when they were still in high school, young and with Nagi’s past soccer career and all. Don’t feel pressured to write this, and good luck with everything!😽😽

── DATING NAGI!

Synopsis: Headcanons about having Seishiro Nagi as your boyfriend.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Nagi x Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Content Warnings: none really, just generally fluffy and silly

A/N: AHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH ANON i hope you like where i go w the story in the future!! and hehe now that we’re in the past arc of peregrine you will actually get to see all of the nitty gritty details of their relationship in the fic itself so i won’t spoil it 🤫 but i love nagi ofc so i’ve added some general headcanons on what i think he would be like as a bf

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

no matter how the two of you get together, reo is somehow involved LMAOAOAO like bro is ALWAYS at the scene of the crime in some way shape or form just because i don’t think nagi would really pick up on the fact that he has a crush on you without outside intervention

it would also definitely be a jump scare when he confesses!! you would have zero idea it’s coming because he literally hasn’t changed how he acts towards you whatsoever

canonically he doesn’t really interact with a lot of people or have a lot of friends and he’s not aggressive with romance so i just don’t think he’d really know what the appropriate method of telling someone you like them is

would probably say some shit like “reo says i have a crush on you” and would be so nonchalant about it meanwhile you’re like “???” because you did not even realize he knew your name and also why is reo being brought up

i honestly think he would not be a bad boyfriend. yes he is lazy and unmotivated but he does what he needs to do and if something is important to him he generally puts in effort for it

that’s another reason why it would take him foreverrr to ask you out — he would have to like you enough that he realizes he does in fact want to have a relationship with you even if it is a hassle

he doesn’t have social media though so don’t expect there to be an official announcement that you guys are together or anything like that HAHA

he would probably forget to tell anyone that the two of you are dating and it’s not because he’s ashamed of you or is trying to hide you or anything he literally just does not care what other people think and would prefer not to talk them if possible so it never comes up

you’ll show up to an event with him and everyone’s like “omg nagi who is this” and he’s like “this is my girlfriend” and someone (probably otoya tbh) is like “since when have you had a girlfriend” and he’s like “it’s been two years 😐”

i think he would be fire at insulting people just because of how many video games he plays…that man has seen some of the worst sides of humanity

the world is lucky he’s a pacifist and avoids conflict because he has some vile stuff stored away (i will never be over him asking barou if he practiced kneeling because he’s about to make him his servant)

this particular quality makes him the BEST person to talk shit with

he’s not a gossipy boyfriend in the sense that he doesn’t have anything juicy of his own to contribute to the conversation but i’m pretty sure he mentioned he watches dramas at one point so you know he’s locked tf in if you need to complain abt someone

he will sit there and be so invested in the tea…def would not give any useful advice but he will make fun of anyone bothering you so you still end up feeling better

i don’t think he would get jealous honestly

the thought of you cheating on him doesn’t cross his mind at all because why would he date someone he didn’t trust fully???

i would say he expects the same from you because he would but at the same time he voluntarily talks to one (1) other person besides you and that’s reo so the opportunity for you to be jealous just wouldn’t even crop up

definitely super clingy and cuddly

loves being babied too

according to epnagi he has this whole automatic system in his apartment to clean and do laundry and i think he’d be fine if you appropriate that so no more cleaning!! but you will have to cook because that man literally only eats fruit jellies

genuinely how is he so built and not dying of malnutrition SKJFDSHKJ

he probably is terrible at coming up with date ideas so it’s up to you to plan things

again it’s not malicious i think for him just spending time with you is his ideal date!! like he doesn’t see the point in getting dressed up and going somewhere fancy when you could just eat at home and be comfortable together

but if it’s an important day or you tell him that you want him to suggest something for once, he WILL go all out (which means calling reo for advice and doing what he tells him to)

overall communication is key with him. he’s not particularly sensitive or in tune with other people’s emotions so being passive aggressive or expecting him to read your mind will honestly just end up making your mood worse because he will not pick up on the fact that something is wrong

but if you tell him what you want him to change he will happily do it!! he just needs to be told very clearly if you’re upset or need him to do something different

honestly it would be very refreshing. there are zero games with nagi and he doesn’t really try to hide anything — what you see is what you get 100% of the time

overall 10/10 would date idc haters dni he’s a sweetheart and he’s doing his best

[iamgonnagetyouback]

Ohhh can I request prompt number 11- wondering if there might be a way to spend the holidays together "accidentally" and number 15- "YOU want to spend the holidays with ME??""Now that you say it, it really does sound weird." with Barty crouch jr please? You can choose either or both whatever you want ◡̈ thank you in advance<3

barty crouch jr x reader where you both spend the holidays together

The Slytherin common room buzzed faintly with the warmth of the enchanted fireplace, but to you, it felt more like a tomb. The empty couches and eerie quiet of the holidays always did that. You lay sprawled on Regulus Black's bed—his perfectly made bed, which you were mildly ruining with your presence—and shot a glare toward his open trunk, half-packed with the precision only someone as uptight as Regulus could manage.

"That’s my bed you’re defiling," a voice drawled.

You bolted upright, realizing with horror that Reg wasn’t the one who spoke. You’d accidentally sprawled onto Barty Crouch Jr.’s bed. The realization made you leap off it like it burned.

"Ugh," you groaned, brushing yourself off as if the act alone could cleanse you. "Do you even wash those sheets? Actually, don’t answer that—I don’t want to know."

Barty smirked. “Why, jealous of the ‘type of girls’ who—”

“Stop right there!” you barked, cutting him off. “I don’t need a list.”

Regulus, seated on the edge of his own bed, pinched the bridge of his nose. "Merlin’s sake, do you two ever take a break from this?"

You folded your arms. "Reg, I think it’s fair to say that I wouldn’t need to if he didn’t exist."

"And yet, here I am," Barty said cheerfully, settling on the arm of the couch like he owned the place.

"Existing loudly, obnoxiously, and in the worst possible way," you shot back.

Regulus groaned. "You know, sometimes I feel like I’m babysitting. Why do you hate each other so much?"

“Umm, I don’t know, Reg,” you replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe because he’s the most arrogant, annoying, insufferable, self-centered, overconfident, ridiculous—"

"Impressive vocabulary," Regulus deadpanned. "That’s seven insults in one breath. You’re rivaling Evans’ rants about Potter."

"Thank you," you said sweetly, before returning your glare to Barty.

He, for his part, looked far too amused. “I’m flattered, really. That much attention? I must be doing something right.”

Regulus ignored him. “Well, you’re going to have to tolerate him.”

“Pass,” you said immediately.

"Unfortunately, not an option," Reg continued. "You have two choices. Either come home with me for the holidays—awkward, tense dinners with Mother and Father included—"

"Barf," you interrupted.

"—or stay here at Hogwarts with Barty."

Your jaw dropped. "That’s not a choice! That’s Sophie’s Choice!"

Barty tilted his head. “Which one am I in this scenario? The kid that gets—”

"Don’t," you warned, jabbing a finger in his direction.

Regulus smirked faintly. "Well, what’s it going to be?"

You groaned. "Weirdly, staying with Crouch sounds like the better option. How did my life come to this?"

The Slytherin common room was hauntingly empty when the holidays began. The eerie quiet made you itch, and the firewhiskey you’d filched from the kitchens wasn’t doing enough to drown the loneliness. You sat in front of the fireplace, swishing the amber liquid in your glass as though it could conjure some company.

The door creaked open behind you. You didn’t bother turning around, but the low hum of voices made your stomach twist.

“…yeah, just up here,” Barty’s voice carried, warm and smooth in a way that made your teeth clench.

Moments later, he entered your line of sight—his arm slung around a girl whose name you vaguely recalled as Jessica. Or Miranda. Whatever. The two of them were all over each other, and you immediately looked back at the fire.

Barty’s voice broke through the air. “Hey, sweetheart.”

You took a long sip of whiskey. “Please, don’t let me stop you.”

The girl—still clinging to him—smirked, and you resolutely ignored her as she worked on unbuttoning his shirt. Barty, however, seemed distracted, his eyes flickering to you.

"How about we pick this up later?" he said suddenly.

The girl blinked. “Are you serious?”

“Very,” he replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. She huffed, gathering her things, and stormed out.

Barty let out a long breath, plopped down beside you, and started buttoning his shirt. "Well, that’s not going to happen again."

You side-eyed him. “Shame. She seemed charming.”

“Jealous?” he asked, smirking.

You rolled your eyes and offered him the bottle of firewhiskey. "So, you know how I’m like—"

"Absolutely embarrassingly in love with me? Yes, I’m familiar. Go on."

"Can you take anything seriously?"

“Yes, I do. I take you very seriously.”

"Anyway," you continued pointedly, “you know how I’m, like, alone for the holidays?”

He tilted his head. "What are you talking about? I’m right here."

"You want to spend the holidays with me?"

"Now that you say it, it really does sound weird."

You groaned and leaned back against the couch, nursing the bottle of firewhiskey as if it held the answers to your problems.

“Careful,” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Wouldn’t want you getting emotional on me.”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself,” you muttered. “If I cry, it’ll be because I’m stuck here with you.”

Barty clutched his chest dramatically. “You wound me, sweetheart. Truly. I’m a delight.”

“You’re a menace,” you corrected.

“Semantics.” He plucked the bottle from your hands and took a swig, ignoring your glare. “Besides, you’re the one who decided I was the lesser evil compared to awkward Black family dinners. Makes you wonder about your priorities.”

“I regret everything,” you deadpanned.

He grinned, leaning back to rest his head on the arm of the couch. The firelight danced across his features, softening the usual sharpness of his expression. For a moment, you hated how easy it was for him to look so... comfortable.

"Do you ever stop being smug?" you asked.

"Not when I’m winning."

"Winning what, exactly?"

He gestured vaguely between the two of you. "This. Us. Our rivalry. Whatever you call this disaster of a relationship."

"Relationship?!" you choked, nearly spilling your drink.

"Rivalry is a kind of relationship," he pointed out, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Merlin, just hex me now.”

"Tempting," he mused, stealing another sip from the bottle.

You reached over to snatch it back, and in the scuffle, his hand brushed yours. For a fleeting moment, your eyes met, and something in his expression shifted—so subtle, you almost missed it. But then he smirked, and the moment was gone.

“So,” he said, settling back. “What’s your plan? Drink yourself into oblivion until the new year?”

“Bold of you to assume I have a plan,” you muttered.

“Tragic, really,” he replied. “No wonder you need me.”

“I don’t need you,” you shot back.

“Sure you don’t,” he said easily, standing up and stretching. “Come on.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Get up.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m bored, and I’m not spending the rest of the night watching you sulk. We’re going for a walk.”

“A walk?” you repeated incredulously. “It’s freezing outside!”

“Good thing you have that fiery personality to keep you warm,” he said with a grin, already heading toward the common room door.

You didn’t know why you followed him. Maybe it was the firewhiskey, or maybe it was the sheer absurdity of the situation, but somehow, you found yourself trudging through the snowy grounds of Hogwarts, your breath puffing in the cold air.

“This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever made me do,” you grumbled, shoving your hands into your pockets.

“Oh, please,” Barty said, walking a few paces ahead. “If this is the dumbest thing, then clearly I haven’t been trying hard enough.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. He turned back to glance at you, catching the fleeting moment of amusement before you could mask it.

“See? You’re having fun,” he said smugly.

“Barely,” you replied.

The owlery loomed ahead, its spires dusted with snow. Barty pushed open the creaking door, letting you step inside first. The warmth of the building, faint though it was, was a welcome reprieve from the cold.

As he wandered to a nearby perch, you pulled a letter from your pocket—the one you’d been avoiding since it arrived. Your parents had written to let you know they were home early from their trip and could come to pick you up if you wanted.

You scanned the letter, your eyes flickering over the words, before glancing at Barty. He stood by a window, his breath fogging the glass as he rubbed his hands together for warmth.

Without thinking too much about it, you pulled out a quill and parchment and began to write your reply.

Dear Mum and Dad, Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll stay at Hogwarts for the holidays. Love, Me

You folded the letter carefully, sealing it before tying it to the leg of a nearby owl. The bird hooted softly, spreading its wings as it soared off into the night.

Brushing your hands together, you turned and made your way to where Barty was perched by the window. His breath fogged the glass as he stared out into the snow-covered grounds, looking strangely peaceful for someone who thrived on chaos.

“Enjoying the view?” you asked, hopping up to sit beside him on the ledge.

“Would be better if you weren’t ruining it,” he replied without missing a beat, glancing at you with a smirk.

“Oh, how tragic for you,” you said, nudging his shoulder lightly. “Should I leave you alone with your deep thoughts?”

“And deprive you of my company? I’m not that cruel,” he quipped, nudging you back.

You rolled your eyes, bumping him again, harder this time. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are,” he said, smirking as he nudged you right back. “Sitting with me. Bantering with me. Some might call it quality time.”

“Some might call it punishment,” you shot back, unable to suppress the grin tugging at your lips.

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, before leaning back against the wall. The firelight from the sconces glinted off his features, making him look almost softer than usual.

“You know,” he said after a moment, “for someone who claims to hate me, you spend an awful lot of time in my presence.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, your tone light but your shoulder brushing his again.

“Too late,” he replied, smirking as he met your gaze.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, surprisingly. Instead, it felt… comfortable, even as the cold from outside seeped through the stone walls.

The walk back inside was quiet at first, snowflakes clinging to your robes as you made your way through the dimly lit corridors. The silence didn’t last long, though—because, well, Barty.

As you approached the main hall, he slowed, eyes catching on a towering Christmas tree tucked into a corner, adorned with only the faintest glimmer of lights.

“So, you know how-,” Barty began, his tone casual, almost too casual.

You smirked, cutting him off. “You’re obviously in love with me?”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Touché,” he said, not missing a beat. “But as I was saying—before I was so rudely interrupted—we don’t have to wallow in misery here. We could, I don’t know, decorate the Christmas tree in our common room.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And how exactly do you think we’re supposed to do that? There aren’t decorations just lying around.”

He gave you a sly grin, the kind that always spelled trouble. “I’ve got my ways,” he said with a wink.

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “That sounds suspiciously ominous, but fine. Lead the way.”

As he guided you through the castle, you couldn’t help but pester him. “Where exactly are we going?”

“Salazar, you ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” Barty groaned, though his tone held amusement.

“Excuse me if I don’t blindly follow someone whose life motto is basically chaos and poor decisions,” you shot back, earning a snicker from him.

Eventually, he led you to the seventh floor, stopping abruptly in front of a blank stretch of wall. You blinked, glancing around nervously. “Uh, Crouch, I don’t think we’re supposed to be here.”

He smirked, completely unfazed. “You worry too much, treasure.”

Your cheeks heated at the nickname, and you shot him a look. “Treasure? That’s new.”

He waved you off, nonchalant, though his smirk deepened. “You’ll get used to it.”

“All right, fine, but if Filch shows up, I’m hexing you first,” you muttered, though you couldn’t stop the small smile forming as you followed him.

As he paced in front of the wall, you crossed your arms. “Crouch, hate to break it to you, but a wall isn’t going to help us celebrate Christmas.”

He paused, turning to you with mock seriousness. “I feel two things right now. One, you’re severely underestimating my brilliance. And two, if I can call you treasure, you can at least call me Barty.”

“Oh, sod off,” you said, laughing.

“Charming,” he replied, grinning.

Before you could retort, the once-blank wall began to shift, stones rippling like water before solidifying into an ornate door. Your jaw dropped as Barty casually pushed it open.

“Ladies first,” he said, gesturing with exaggerated chivalry.

You rolled your eyes, stepping past him. “Such a gentleman.”

“Only for you,” he quipped, his grin widening.

Inside, your breath caught. The room was filled with everything you could possibly need to decorate a Christmas tree: boxes of shimmering ornaments, strings of enchanted fairy lights, and even rolls of tinsel that sparkled like stardust.

“Is that—” you stammered, pointing at a pile of candy canes stacked next to a miniature sleigh.

Barty draped an arm over your shoulders, looking smug. “This is the Room of Requirement, treasure. Think of something you really need, and it appears—within reason. Found it when Evan and I were pranking Snape.”

You shook your head in amazement, eyes wide as you took it all in. “Merlin, I love magic.”

Barty watched you, his smirk softening into something almost fond. “Yeah, it’s got its moments.”

You turned to him, excitement practically buzzing off you. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s turn that boring tree into something worthy of our genius.”

He grinned, grabbing a box of ornaments. “Now you’re talking.”

You and Barty dove into the decorations like kids in a candy shop. He threw a strand of tinsel over his shoulder, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Would you look at that?” he said, holding up a glittery bauble. “This one’s almost as sparkly as you.”

You snorted, grabbing it from his hand. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Crouch.”

“Please, I’m just getting started.” He waggled his brows before draping a garish red-and-gold ribbon around the tree in one dramatic flourish.

“Subtlety really isn’t your strong suit, is it?” you said, hanging ornaments with a bit more care.

“Subtlety is boring,” he replied, holding up a pair of elf-shaped ornaments and making them ‘kiss.’ “Now this is art.”

Rolling your eyes, you flicked a sprig of tinsel at him. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he shot back with a grin.

As the tree began to come together, you both stood back to admire your work—or, at least, your chaos. The tree was a glorious mess of mismatched ornaments, glowing lights, and way too much tinsel.

“Alright,” Barty said, clapping his hands together. “Time for the grand finale: the star.” He held it up, the light reflecting off its gilded surface.

“Go on, then,” you said, crossing your arms.

He scoffed. “You think I’m tall enough for this?”

“Why are you holding it, then?”

He gave you a mischievous look. “Because you’re going to sit on my shoulders, obviously.”

“Oh no, absolutely not,” you started, but Barty had already crouched down in front of you.

“Come on, treasure. Unless you want a very lopsided star?” He glanced back at you, his grin infuriatingly charming.

You groaned. “Fine. But if you drop me—”

“I won’t,” he said confidently. “Unless you insult my decorating skills again.”

With a roll of your eyes, you carefully climbed onto his shoulders. He stood up, holding your legs steady as you wobbled slightly.

“Stop moving!” you yelped.

“Relax, you’re doing great,” he said, his voice laced with laughter. “Just don’t kick me in the head.”

With a muttered curse, you reached up, placing the star delicately on the top branch. “There. Done.”

Barty gave a little celebratory bounce. “Perfect. You can come down now.”

You let out a relieved laugh as you slid off his shoulders, landing back on solid ground.

“See? Told you I wouldn’t drop you.”

You smirked. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

As you both stood there, admiring your handiwork, something peculiar happened. A small pop echoed above you, and when you glanced up, there it was—mistletoe, hanging innocently from thin air.

You turned to Barty, narrowing your eyes. “Really?”

He blinked, all wide-eyed innocence. “What? That’s definitely not my doing.” He gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Could it be the castle itself, trying to tell us something?”

“Oh, cut the theatrics,” you said, though you couldn’t help but laugh.

He leaned in slightly, his grin softening. “Well, we wouldn’t want to anger the castle, would we?”

You gave him a long, suspicious look. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you’re still standing here,” he murmured, his voice lower now, more serious.

With a small smile, you stood on your toes, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He responded immediately, his hands coming up to gently cup your face.

When you pulled back, his grin was back, brighter than ever. “So, does this mean you’ll let me call you treasure more often?”

You shoved him lightly, laughing. “Don’t push it.”

“Too late,” he said, his laughter echoing through the room as he pulled you back in for another kiss.

REQUESTED FROM : this post RELATED TO : this post

[theminecraftbee]

do you think dl pearl and sl lizzie would've gotten along?

OKAY SO I HAVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS. and i think the answer depends on a lot of factors actually because like... okay lizzie and pearl have SIMILAR arcs but, crucially, they have different responses and attitudes about those arcs and also two hurt people who are lashing out at others. are not. in a headspace to easily make friends necessarily.

so we're gonna have to... i think it depends on whether you say "these are those guys in the MIDDLE of their arc" or "these are those guys AFTER their arc". most of the time i think people mean "if they're in the same series" so it would be during, and the answer is "i think dl pearl would be a LOT more willing to make friends than sl lizzie would be".

so like okay. let's unpack that. so let's start with dl pearl. while she's somewhat defined by being alone, lashing out at people, it's 5 am pearl she's doing questionable things and isolating herself in response to the fact everyone has shunned her, it's not that she doesn't want friends. she opens MOST of her interactions with being willing to open a hand of friendship, it's just that everyone rejects her as 'crazy' or 'dangerous', or she's just like, not really wanted as a friend for some reason or another. and then she lashes out, and tells herself she's fine alone anyway, but the key is she does want the friends.

also of note is that, while pearl is associated with being a red name because her COLOR scheme was red and she had her red name skin on basically the whole time, she... wasn't. she wasn't a red name. she was one of the last yellow names actually she only went red in basically the last episode. she was PLAYING UP being red. she was PLAYING IN to the narrative she was dangerous. but she... wasn't actually on red, and while she's often ATTRIBUTED revenge as a motive, it was less revenge and more a defensive "if you're going to treat me as evil i'll show you evil", if that makes sense.

so like, i could see pearl, in a similar scenario to when she allied with ren and martyn, trying to befriend lizzie. because she would see herself in lizzie! hell, arguably secret life pearl DOES do that! but even mid-arc, worst of herself double life pearl would go "oh you ALSO have a broken heart maybe we can be demons together?" to lizzie i think.

the problem is that i don't know if lizzie would buy it.

SO. secret life lizzie. so the thing is about secret life lizzie is that she is ALSO rejected by the people around her. the difference is, it's not for some perceived quality in her that makes her dangerous; she sort of starts isolating herself first, before she tries to reach out. this is because if i had to attribute a trait to life series lizzie it might be paranoid? ineffectually paranoid, she's not paranoid in a way that's useful, but like. she tends to perceive everyone around her as Weirdos who are Dangerous and Out to Get Her. she's the only sensible one around here in her mind. (note that this is not me assigning lizzie of all people as ACTUALLY the sensible one are you kidding me have you seen that lady. this is me saying this is how she tends to see the world.)

this, in turn, works against her. when she's first trying to get everyone to sleep and then everyone to go to the end--in other words, getting everyone to show up to her party--they don't. and it's not, typically, so much because they personally distrust her. (note the way people talked about lizzie was REALLY not the same way people talked about pearl at all!) it's because lizzie has given them no reason to trust her. she's not an ally, she's obviously trying to do a task, it's possibly a trap, the end is really dangerous, so... thanks but the last party in this series had explosives under it.

the END RESULT is still lizzie being isolated! the END RESULT is still her resentful and alone after no one but joel shows up to her slumber party! but the root causes are a little different. true, you could argue pearl is rejected in part because of her own actions, but it's not in the same way lizzie is. pearl was WILLING to trust, even afterwards, and gets rejected both because of a system that ended up stacked against her and because of one mistake she's not being allowed to make up for. she's persecuted and seen as evil. lizzie, meanwhile, is rejected indirectly, less a rejection of her as a person and more a result of the fact that lizzie doesn't play the social game well, doesn't trust anyone herself, and puts herself at risk as a result of that.

anyway this also adds up with. lizzie was turned red by a horrible careless accident by jimmy. pearl was turned red as part of the final hunt of all the red names on the server, an intentional act. lizzie died first. pearl died last. lizzie was resentful and wanted revenge as a red name, both because of her rejection and because that's who she is as a person. pearl wanted to win as a red name, and her actions as a red name more followed from her already existing actions. pearl was willing to trust and have loyalty, but no one was willing to return it. lizzie doesn't want to have to trust or be loyal in the first place.

the RESULT? i think double life pearl would offer to be friends with lizzie and lizzie would decide that pearl was a crazy person who was mocking her. and which way that ends up resolving to--a friendship, an enemyship, a mutual respect--would be a FASCINATING story to explore from there.

anyway there are people who are better lizzie and pearl experts than me who probably have more to add her and bits of my character interpretation to confirm or deny (lord knows i could have them very wrong i am not good at writing out meta that isn't in the form of a fic) but in conclusion: this too is yuri,