#like i think those are ruffles? but where are they connected to on the top?

[serotonins-stuff]

Thinking about hawks who says the hottest and goofiest things with no problem, but gets get shy and turns red whenever he has to talk serious lovey dovey stuff with you.

"So you're fine with making out and dirty talk, but get shy when we hold hands and talk about love?" You raise a brow teasingly, before munching on a strawberry.

He whips head quickly in the opposite direction of your gaze in attempt to hide his wide smile, which is quite the futile attempt when he's quite literally laying on your lap.

How's he supposed to tell you that you're basically the girl of his dreams?

To top it off, this angle just makes you seem even more perfect than you already are. This specific sunflower field has a soft glow that he just can't explain. The way the golden rays of sunlight dance so delicately on your face, and the way your hair dances so rhymitically with the gentle breeze. The beautiful sunflowers before you reflect into your eyes, and the only word that can explain how he feels, is home.

He feels home.

He feels like he can just get lost and even found in your beauty.

He's snaps out of it when he hears you giggle.

"Well-" he pauses, realizing he didn't even have an excuse as to why it's making him nervous. "We're on a date"

Your chest rumbles once more with laughter "You're nervous because we are on a date?"

The floral breeze brushes past you, and the soothing swish of the flowers echoes through the vast field.

He finds sunflowers interesting, especially the fact that they can go through so many processes of death and rebirth. Even after enduring trecharous weather and challenges, even something as delicate as sunflowers grow again.

Keigo thinks they resonate withing him. He thought he was too lost in life to find love, yet here he is laying on your lap while you feed him sweet strawberries. Something beautiful is blooming within him. Something he never thought would have such a grip on him. It's taking control of his heart, body and soul and there's nothing he can do about it. After all, what is there to do when you're falling in love?

"I'm not nervous because we are on a date" he declared, in a low and steady tone. "I'm nervous because I'm falling in love with you"

He feels every single one of your movements stop as you try to process what he just said. He keeps his breathing steady and controlled, despite his heart running a marathon. Allowing the warmth and fear to flow through his nerves.

"You can't tell me you don't feel it too" he huffed, finding some comfort in the way your gaze connected with his.

"I don't know what to say to that Keigo" you hum, before inching your face closer to his "Except for the fact that I'm falling for you too"

In shock his eyes widen, feathers ruffle and the most genuine and beaming smile graces his lips. From the way he starts to bite his bottom lip you could tell he's about to say something cheesy.

"I guess this is the part where we ki-"

You quickly peck him on the lips and he yelps before sitting up with his mouth agape and eyes wide.

"I wasn't ready!" he defends with a laugh, his fingers grazing softly over his lips. The same lips that you had just touched with your own.

You break into laughter from his adorable reaction, causing him to start chuckling before pulling you closer to him, plopping you half on his lap.

"You ready now?" You tease, enveloping your arms around his neck.

He doesn't answer your question verbally, instead he places his lips on yours with devotion, and he smiles into it when he felt you struggle to hold back your grin. Your lips are so ever soft and sweet, just like you. Just like your voice and eyes, just like the way you wrapped you arms around him and the way you smile.

"I swear" he pulled back, locking eyes with you before placing another firm kiss to your lips "I could get lost in those lips"

"Well" you chime lowly before placing a firm kiss of your own to his parted lips. You pulled back just enough to still feel his breath meet with yours "I'm not gonna stop you"

---------

A/n

👀

[maybanksprincess]

hii new follower here!!!👋💓 im in love alreadyyy☺️ can i request where instead of pope catching jj and kie on the boat its reader , it doesnt matter if its kook!reader or pouge💖

thank you sweetheart, your so kind! 🥹 thank you for following, and i loveeee this idea so much. thank you for the request!! 💕

you were on the way back to the outerbanks after being on the deserted island for the last several months, everyone thought you had all been missing, maybe dead

after the escape from singh, your on the boat with jj, contemplating your life choices at this point.

"so your sure you didnt tell him where the diary is?" he asks as he adjusts the ropes on the boat, blue eyes locking onto yours.

you meet his gaze, watching his blonde hair fall on his forehead. "i told him i'd seen it, but i didnt tell him where."

he swings back into the inside of the boat, walking over to where your standing "so why does Singh want it so much?" he sits down beside you, on a couch cushion

you look down at him from where your standing "singh said that he thinks the diary has a clue; to the location of some city of gold."

you throw your hands up, not understanding the concept either. "like the gold on the merchant was just a small part of it." you say furrowing your brows

jj looks at you as he speaks, "okay, so the diary we have leads to a 500-year-old treasure that no ones ever found?"

you both look equally confused, not understanding it one bit.

"pretty much." you say simply, nodding your head. you turn your head from the ocean, to meet his eyes again.

"im in. its kind of like- my best option at this point, so... definitely beats sitting in geometry class." jj was never fond of school, never showed up, and when he did, he got horrible grades.

jj stands back up beside you, ruffling and fixing his hair

"yeah, beats boarding school." you say as you tap your hand on the surface in front of you.

"i mean, i dont even know what'll happen when we get back to the obx; nothing good. i can tell you that." he says, scratching the back of his neck.

"shits gonna suck for like a year." you reply, shaking your head.

he grabs the handles on the top of the ceiling of the boat, hanging off of them.

"at least you dont got a restitution, though. No job. No parents. Yeah arrows are gonna be coming in hot." he turns to look at you with those blue eyes, meeting your gaze.

"but you know what we do when arrows come flying?" he questions with a smirk on his face, trying to lighten the mood.

he starts making childish gun noises, and hitting the air, then pulling himself up by the handles on top of him, and kicking the air

"-uh, quick!" you say, pointing a finger at him, cracking a smile.

he walks back over to you, still being childish

"and you shoot right back at 'em. and that spear comes at you, you plant, grab," he says while hitting his thighs and grabbing an imaginary spear, to prove his point.

you look at him still smiling, but furrowing your brows

"disarm, straight into the jugular, finish them off" he makes yet another childish noise, hitting the air. then he turns to look at you as you walk over to him

then the boat hits a wave, and you both stumble, his hand instinctively going to your waist to cushion you incase you fell.

your hand went to his back, now your faces inches apart

your still smiling a little, his eyes drifting down to your lips.

"you know, whatever happpens, were gonna handle it together. like we always do..." you say nodding your head, looking into his eyes.

"y/n." he says lowly, his gaze still drawn to your lips, leaning in.

as soon as you two were about to kiss, pope comes around the corner and calls out to you two.

"hey." pope says. he then connects the dots, and sighs.

jj knew how much pope liked you, but you didnt reciprocate those feelings, and he knows it hurt pope, even more so to find you two about to kiss.

jj opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out.

pope clears his throat, "just wanted to let you guys know that we should probably stop for gas." he gives a forced smile

jj looks around nervously, not knowing how to press this subject "pope, i, uh... yeah. uh-"

"-yeah." pope turns and walks away, not wanting to see anymore.

jj immediately turns to pope and starts to take steps toward him "Pope. Hey, pope."

he stops walking when pope doesnt respond, and he sighs, looking down. "shit." he whispers.

you look at jj with a sympathetic expression, but quickly look away, being a little hurt by the way jj pulled away so quickly.

"ill talk to him" jj says, never looking back up.

all you can do is nod, and look away.

im so sorry if this is bad, im kind of bad with angst!! i hope you liked it, thank you for the request babe!

[missaengg]

Decorating a Mr. Harrison Gray

21 Days Until Christmas: Tinsel Made for Ikemen Advent hosted by @queengiuliettafirstlady and @candied-boys Featuring: Ikemen Villains Harrison Gray x f!reader | With an appearance of all the Ikevil men Tags: fluff, humor, lightly suggestive at the end Word Count: 1634

You step back, admiring the nearly finished Crown Christmas tree.

You and Liam have spent the last hour decorating the large, fir tree in the parlor at Victor’s request, and tooting your own horn… the tree looks absolutely gorgeous. 

Pops of red and gold accent the dark green branches, glittering in the glow of the white lights strung in between the ornaments. The stained glass star adorning the top of the tree shines brilliantly, casting a flickering array of colors on the walls around it.

The only thing left to do is wrap the tree in tinsel.

You survey the red, green, and gold strands in your hands. A wicked thought slithers into your brain, and you smirk, turning to the other Crown member helping you decorate the tree.

“Hey, Liam?” you call out to him quietly. Liam turns to you, tearing his rose-colored eyes away from the Christmas tree to meet yours. “I have an idea.” 

“What is it?” he asks.

“Whaddya say we decorate a Harrison?”

Liam blinks. “Decorate… a Harrison?” 

You nod, glancing to the couch where your lover and fellow Crown member lay snoozing. “Whaddya think, eh?” You wiggle your eyebrows and hold up the thin strips of plastic curling around your palms and fingers.

It takes a moment for the suggestion to land, his lips forming a small ‘o’, and then he breaks into a giant joyous smile. Liam bobs his head up and down enthusiastically, grabbing a handful of tinsel of his own. 

“I’m ready!”

You urgently press your finger to your lips, and Liam winces, mouthing ‘sorry’. You shake your head, mouthing back ‘it’s okay’. The two of you tiptoe over to the couch, the only sounds filling the room, those of rustling plastic and Harrison’s labored breathing.

Carefully, you separate a few strands of tinsel and drape it around Harrison’s neck. Liam joins you, and the two of you shake in silent laughter every time your eyes meet, quickly moving to shush each other which only exacerbates the raucous, but inaudible laughter.

“Oh, what’s this?” a melodic voice lilts from the entrance, and you and Liam both snap your attention to the door, simultaneously hissing out a tiny ‘shhh’ with your forefingers on the center of your lips.

The dark-haired man sidles over, and you whisper in his ear, “We’re decorating Harrison with tinsel.” 

“How delightful,” Alfons purrs.

“Wanna join?” You hold out some of the tinsel to Alfons.

He says nothing, but accepts the tinsel, mischief gleaming in his narrowed dark blue eyes. The three of you shift your focus to the task at hand, with you taking Harrison's head, Alfons taking his torso, and Liam taking his legs.

You weave strands of Christmas green tinsel through Harrison’s sandy brown hair like a crown taking care not to ruffle his unruly locks too much in the process. As you do, you look down on his sleeping face, and you can’t help, but take a moment to observe him, a soft adoration blooming in your heart.

When awake, Harrison tends to always have something on his mind, a pervasive loneliness ever present on his brow, but when asleep… you gently smooth back his hair… when asleep… he looks peaceful. At ease. Happy, even.

Resisting the urge to brush your lips against his cheek, you tuck tinsel behind his ears, connecting a few strands from one ear to the other to form a tinsel mustache. And of course, if he has a mustache, he must also have a beard. You arrange some more tinsel to fall in the shape of a long, scraggly beard down his chin.

The strands flutter with each breath Harrison takes, and you have to stifle the snort forming in your nose because of how ridiculous he looks with his green tinsel crown and his red and gold tinsel mustache and beard.

All hail Harrison, the Tinsel King of Christmas Town.

You look over to Alfons and Liam, doubling over when you see what they’re doing to the poor man. 

Alfons – in true Alfons fashion – is hunched over, creating a tinsel bikini top and a tinsel mini skirt over Harrison’s chest and hips – though you do have to admit you’re a teeny bit disappointed he hasn’t done anything more… risque concerning Harrison’s crotch.

Liam – in sweet Liam fashion – is essentially burying Harrison’s legs, wrapping them with all the tinsel in his arsenal as one would a mummy.

“Alfons,” a quiet voice murmurs, “is this… beautiful?”

The three of you jump, three pairs of wide eyes – yours included – slowly sliding over to the blonde-haired ethereal beauty standing between you and Alfons.

When did Elbert walk in?!

“No, Elbie,” Alfons finally answers once the shock has worn off. “Harrison is not beautiful.”

“Hmm,” Elbert muses, his impossibly blue eyes wavering.

“The tree looks wonderful!” an exuberant voice exclaims, but the exuberance falters into a stifled gasp. “Oh my.” The raven-haired co-leader of Crown gawks at Harrison’s decorated, sleeping form, and then claps his hands together enthusiastically. “Oh, what a great idea!”

You move to shush Victor, but before you can, you’re interrupted by an abrasive grumble.

“Tch… stupid,” a sharp amethyst-eyed man mutters.

A genteel face pops out from behind the surly sadist, his twilight-colored eyes lighting up. “That looks fun.”

“I’d say it’s an improvement,” a low rumble adds.

The former doctor strides in from behind Ellis and Jude, a shit-eating grin plastered on his egoistic face.

You cringe, frantically blowing out a hushed ‘shhhh’, but of course, no one listens, especially Jude.

“Aah, can’t do any work here with all this useless shit goin’ on,” Jude snipes, unbothered by your frantic attempts at getting him to keep his voice down. “Let’s go, Ellis.”

“But Jude,” Ellis gently protests. “I want to stay.”

Jude sighs in exasperation. “Fine. Do as ya please, but yer makin’ up for it later.” He sweeps out of the room leaving Ellis and the smell of cigarettes behind.

“Can I join?” Ellis asks, smiling sweetly.

You nod, handing him some tinsel.

“Yay,” he cheers and takes the tinsel offered to him.

“Victor?” 

You inwardly groan. At this rate, Harrison will wake up before you can finish. A regal, vampiric looking man glides over, calmly observing the scene before him.

“This seems more entertaining than what I have to say,” William notes. “Please, do continue.”

You wordlessly offer him some tinsel, which he accepts with more grace than necessary. You glance over to Roger, who’s perched himself on the coffee table, and hold out the tinsel to him as well, which he declines with a shake of his head.

You count the total number of men who’ve entered the room at some point in the past hour – nine. You breathe out a sigh of relief. There shouldn’t be any more interruptions.

You turn back to the couch when…

“What’s going on?”

Harrison cracks open his bleary eyes, blinking rapidly upon seeing nine faces peering down at him. He jerks into a sit, the tinsel draped about him rustling as he moves. The sound catches his attention, and he looks down, examining the tinsel wrapped around his chest and pulling on the tinsel covering his face. He frowns, his half-awake, sluggish brain working overtime.

“What the hell…?”

“Aww, I didn’t get a chance to decorate Harrison,” Ellis whines.

“Darn,” Liam pouts. “I still had his feet left.”

Harrison gapes up at the crowd around him, his incredulous gaze sweeping from the disappointed Ellis to the pouting Liam to the amused Roger to the mischievous Alfons to the taciturn Elbert to the delighted Victor, and to the tickled William, finally zooming in on the sheepish you.

“Surprise?” You half-heartedly shrug your shoulders, shaking the tinsel in your hands like pom-poms.

His eyes narrow, laser focused on you. “Okay, that’s enough,” he says in his usual listless manner. “Everyone out.”

No one moves.

“Now.”

A dangerous gleam forms in his tired glare, and the men of Crown acquiesce, a chorus of disappointed groans and mumbles filling the air. They shuffle out, one by one, tossing the tinsel they held in their hands to the floor.

You try to slink out with them, but a strong hand catches your wrist, forcefully pulling you back, and you stumble, falling back onto the couch next to Harrison.

“Um… hi?” You give your lover a big goofy grin.

“This was your doing, wasn’t it?” Harrison accuses.

“N–no,” you stammer indignantly, averting your eyes despite knowing that he doesn’t need to meet your eyes to ascertain a lie from the truth. 

“Now, that’s a lie.”

Your cheeks heat up, and you petulantly scowl at him, your bottom lip jutting out. “Not fair. I can’t get away with anything with your powers.”

Harrison chuckles, his mint-green eyes dancing with enjoyment watching you squirm. “I don’t need my abilities to know when you’re lying, my dear.”

Your cheeks burn even hotter. Your bottom lip juts out even further. You poke his chest with your finger, hard, but Harrison only laughs. “Still not fair,” you mumble, but you know you’ve lost… again.

“Mmmhmm,” Harrison hums. “And… how should I punish you for pranking me?”

His long fingers toy with the ribbon holding your blouse closed, intentionally brushing against your neck causing you to shiver, a dark heat blossoming deep in your torso. You sputter, your mouth opening and closing repeatedly before slamming shut, your lips pressed together in a thin, tight line.

Harrison smirks. His fingers trail up your neck, ending with his palm resting on your cheek. He strokes the flushed, rosy skin with his thumb before guiding your head down inches away from his own.

“You know,” he utters slowly, each hot expelled puff of air deliciously tickling your lips. “I think you’d look great wearing only tinsel.”

[ruewrote]

𝑗𝑎𝑐𝑜𝑏 𝑐𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑠 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠.

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protective, but in the sweetest way:

   – jacob is definitely the type to keep an eye on you, not in an overbearing way but more like a silent guardian. he knows you can handle yourself, but he can’t help but worry sometimes, especially after everything that’s happened at hackett’s quarry.

   – he’s always the first to throw his arm around your shoulders or stand a little too close when things start to feel sketchy, but he does it with a casualness that makes it feel comforting, like a constant reminder that he’s got your back.

affectionate goof:

   – jacob shows his love through physical affection, whether it’s ruffling your hair, giving you playful shoulder bumps, or sneaking up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist and spin you around.

   – he loves making you laugh, often telling terrible jokes just to see your smile and when you do laugh, he grins proudly to himself.

endless compliments:

   – jacob’s never shy about telling you how beautiful you are. whether you’re dressed up or just lounging in sweats, he’s always got something sweet to say.

   – “how’d i get so lucky, huh?” he’ll ask with a lopsided smile, pulling you into his lap as he playfully pretends to think about it. “seriously though, you’re gorgeous.”

casual dates:

   – jacob’s idea of the perfect date is something relaxed and fun, like a late night drive, a picnic by the lake or binge watching a dumb reality show together.

   – he loves the idea of little adventures, like spontaneous road trips to nowhere, and insists on pulling over to explore random spots just to make memories with you.

secretly a hopeless romantic:

   – even though he’s a bit of a jock and acts all cool, jacob has a soft side when it comes to you. he loves surprising you with random little things. flowers he picked himself, your favorite snacks, or even handwritten notes he leaves around the house.

   – sometimes, when you’re lying together he’ll get quiet and just stare at you, thinking about how lucky he is. when you catch him, he’ll just blush and pull you closer, mumbling something like, “can’t help it, you’re too cute.”

jealous, but playful:

   – jacob can get a little jealous, but he tries to laugh it off. if someone’s flirting with you, he’ll come up and drape himself over you, saying something like, “hey, babe, didn’t see you talking to this random person here.”

   – you’ll tease him about it, but he knows it’s all in good fun. he trusts you completely, but he also loves any excuse to show everyone that you’re his.

cuddling is a must:

   – no matter where you are. whether it’s the couch, a hammock or even on the grass under the stars. he’ll pull you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you protectively.

   – he loves resting his head on top of yours or tangling his legs with yours, making sure you’re close enough to feel his warmth. it’s one of the ways he feels most connected to you.

late night talks:

   – jacob loves those deep, quiet conversations that happen late at night when you’re both half asleep. you’ll be lying in bed and he’ll start talking about the future or random dreams he’s had.

   – sometimes he gets a little vulnerable in these moments, telling you about his fears, his insecurities, and his hopes and you always reassure him, which means alot to him.

playful banter and competition:

   – jacob loves a bit of friendly competition and he’ll challenge you to silly things like arm wrestling, races.

   – of course, he’ll always let you win (he’ll pretend he wasn’t trying), just to see you smile. 

not so secretly sentimental:

    – despite his sometimes goofy exterior, jacob holds onto little mementos from your time together. he keeps a collection of photos, random doodles you’ve made, even concert tickets from dates.

    – one time, you found him staring at a photo of you two and when you asked about it, he just smiled softly and said, “this one’s my favourite.”

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

© ruewrote 2024.

[ilys00ga]

can i request a fluffy first kiss drabble with yoongi? like reader is inexperienced with dating and other stuff. Reader feels like this is gonna be disappointing for him and they get nervous whenever they're in close proximity with him. He's sweet and just trying to show his love. After some time he thinks maybe reader doesn't have an interest in him like he does with them. He asks directly if they think of him in a romantic and more intimate way at all. Everything turns out okay he understands and comforts the reader

pairing: yoongi x reader.

genre: fluff, just pure fluff with some silliness bcuz we all need to be silly.

warnings: this made me miss yoongi even more so, beware, in case you miss him just like I do.

A/N: thank u so much for this req! I just realised that it's slightly different than what you've requested, but I hope that's okay and that you enjoy reading regardless <3. You're very welcome if u wanna request more stuff or just reach out to me.

PS. English is not my first language, so u know the drill.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

to a person whose only romantic experience was that in books and movies, meeting yoongi was like jumping off of 4 stairs at once as a child, scary but so damn exciting and fun. it was like picking up a book in a language you've been trying to learn for while, full of complex for a beginner like you.

it took you some time to get used to his presence in your life. to him. it's not like you didn't enjoy it, it was far away from that actually, but he was your first, after all.

the two of you hadn't been official for that long, though. after many moon cycles of pining and awkward, shy interactions, it all bloomed at once, and suddenly, you officially got your first boyfriend.

you were planning to go on a proper date, after the previous one had miserably failed (a tale to tell for another day), only for it to be met with a heavy rain storm. yoongi ended up apologizing, and offered you an indoors dinner, some cuddles and a movie for the night.

after finishing your meal, he held your hand in his and led you to the living room, where he had prepared a cozy setting with snacks and wine.

he noticed the way your body tensed every time he initiated any kind of physical connection between the two of you. at first, he didnt think much of it, assuming it was because just the beginning of your relationship. he was also well aware that you've never dated anyone before, so it was only natural for you to be awkward with that.

he really understood. after all, he himself wasn't a fan of skin ship and was extremely shy as well. he almost always tried to initiate it for you, because of how caring and loving you are towards him. you always took care of him, something he's very grateful for. and so, he made sure to remind himself to show you that he does with those little gestures of affection every now and then.

but then, he started noticing more frequently. everytime he attempted to hug you, hold your hand, peck your face, or even those two times he almost just leaned in to kiss your lips—but stopped halfway. and each time his worry reaches the tip of his toungue, waiting to be spilled in the form of a question, he always ends up letting it slip when you quickly brush it off and comply to whatever he wanted to do.

"thank you for the dinner, it was really good." you said, watching as yoongi's face lit up with a grin. his hand affectionately ruffled the top of your head, a habit of his that you've grown fond of the more often he did it. suddenly, he reached out for his phone, tapping a few buttons and a soft, slow beat rode the air of the room.

dropping his phone on the sofa, he put his left hand out and asked, "may I have a dance with you, darling?"

chuckling, you nodded and intertwined your fingers with his.

he pulled you in, chest flush against his with his free hand resting on your waist. then, he started swaying both of your bodies to the music.

"you're welcome, darling." he replied, kissing your cheek. he sensed your body tensing again, this time your fists tightening on top of his shoulders, and he hummed.

"I would very much like to kiss you right now."

eyes widening, you froze in your place when you heard his whisper. you felt your cheeks burning up. it took you off guard. your brain struggled to figure out what to say or do next, so you just stood there and stared at him. it's happening.

in books and movies, first kisses are that thing that everyone gets to experience at one point in their life, but not everyone gets to enjoy it. and right now, thinking about the possibility of yoongi not liking your first kiss is not helping calm your nervous system at all.

"can I..?" he pleaded, eyes never leaving yours with a tiny hint of a smirk appearing on his face.

"i- I've never done this before, I don't wanna ruin it for you and-" you stuttered nervously as you averted your eyes. the change of the atmosphere was starting to feel way too overwhelming for you, and all you could think about was how he'd feel like once he realises how bad you are at this.

"hey, look at me." once again, and with a very gentle voice, yoongi whispered. his finger gently rested under your chin and lifted your head. his eyes, ever so caring and tender, soothed your nerves down. you swallowed what remained stuck in your throat of concerns.

"it's okay if you've never experienced this before. and I'm not gonna force you to do it, now or any other time, if you don't want me to. but I really would like to show you just how amazing it feels, so please allow me to do so." he added.

you took a deep breathe in and slowly nodded. even though you've been together for just a couple of weeks, you love yoongi, and you trust him. you know he's never gonna do anything that's gonna end up hurting you in any possible way, and you've always been thankful for how respectful and thoughtful he is.

"o-okay..." you finally agreed, giving him his much desired green light.

"okay." he smiled, "let me ask again. Is it okay if I kiss you right here and now?"

"yes, please.."

like a kid that finally got permission to open his first birthday present of the day, yoongi leaned in and gently met your lips with his.

the first kiss was not like that of the movies, it was light and short. yoongi pulled back, eyes finding yours again as to make sure nothing went wrong. it took you a moment to regain your senses again, but you smiled sheepishly after a few heart beats, reassuring him that everything was fine, and he leaned in again. this time, he pulled your body closer to his, one hand gently holding your wasit and the other cupping your jaw.

he did all the work, and you just stood there with your eyes closed, focusing on the warmth of his skin against yours. he realised that you weren't sure where to put your hands when your balled up fists clenched on his sleeves, so he gently guided them to the back of his neck.

it all felt so new, so refreshing. your stomach felt so funny, and your heart beat so fast against your chest. the sound of heavy raindrops landing on the window, along with the music that's still playing in the room, was distant. all you could feel was his chest against yours, his lips pressing against yours. his hands gently holding your face and his fingers caressing your cheeks.

shortly after, you tapped his shoulder in panick as it started getting harder to hold your breath in.

yoongi pulled out, face inches away from yours, and panted, "I'm sorry. got caught up in the feeling of your honey lips."

looking at him up this close, he looked so pretty. red tinted cheeks and cherry plumped up lips. you suddenly really wanted to kiss him more. your face flushed a deep, rosy red at that thought.

chuckling, you hid your face in both of your hands and crouched down.

"hey, relax. it's okay." yoongi chuckled softly and crouched down next to you, running his hand down your back and lifting your face, "you're so red, are you alright?" he teased.

you whined and hugged his torso, hiding your face in his chest.

"was it that bad?" he continued to joke, giggling as he enjoyed your reaction.

"it was amazing, I loved it a lot." when you lifted your face and looked up at him, he saw your eyes sparkling with joy, and perhaps some gratitude. yoongi leaned down and kissed your forehead.

"how'd you like your first kiss, my lady?" he asked, and you hummed.

"thank you, you're literally the best. I don't deserve you."

"don't say that. you deserve the best. I cannot believe I've waited this long to kiss you."

you chuckled, "it's only been two weeks, yoongi."

"and what about it? have you seen yourself? your lips?!"

you slap his back playfully, giggling at his dramatic silliness before looking back up at him, "I can't believe I've been anxious about it this whole time." you pouted.

"it's okay, darling. it's all new to you. today, it's a kiss, tomorrow, something much better is coming your way." he chuckled.

"yoongi!" you slap him again. perhaps, this time with a little bit more of strength to emphasize your exclamation.

[minluce]

Weak Hero - Wolf Keum Meta and Backstory Theory

I recently reread and caught up with this series; it's one of the two webtoons that I genuinely like. Anyway, having thoughts. Spoilers for up to chapter 227.

Hot take that Wolf Keum is actually very similar to Gray Yeon. He actually makes the connection himself while watching Gray fight Dongha: They both get serious tunnel vision when they're fighting.

But I don't think the parallels stop there. I'm not the first person to bring up the theory on Wolf's backstory, that he was formerly a victim of physical bullying, before the roles swapped when he started to retaliate. The main evidence that points towards this theory is that Wolf likes to block with his face... that is to say that he just doesn't block hits. He's a tank, and he's borderline unphased by getting pummeled. It's very possible that he has a history of receiving hits a lot, therefore building up a resilience to physical blows.

The main thing we're told that makes us go "Oh wow Wolf Keum is insane", when he's first introduced as an antagonist, is the 3 second role. He beats anyone up for holding eye contact with him for longer than 3 seconds.

Now consider: everytime Gray beats someone to a pulp, his internal monologue is "I'll make it so that he can never look us in the eyes again."

Because of what happened to Stephan Ahn, Gray fights against those who threaten his friends or himself, beating them to the point where they wouldn't dare to retaliate, or do anything to challenge his authority. In a similar manner, albeit exaggerated to an unreasonable degree, Wolf retaliates against any (perceived) threat against himself. Maintaining eye contact is seen as a challenge, in both Wolf and Gray's book, but whereas Wolf is always reactive to the smallest slight, Gray is willing to let microaggressions off the hook.

The theory that Wolf used to be a victim is also supported by the timeline as well. He's the newest member of the union. He's a dark horse; he was on nobody's radar in Middle School, before suddenly becoming a big deal in High School. Just like Gray, who was simply an unassuming "nerd" up until his third year, when he went ballistic on the bullies who had tormented Stephan all year.

The difference? 

Gray had Stephan; he has friends who support him and drag him away from the edge. Friends who tell Gray "hey, they're not worth it, you're better than them".

I think it's safe to assume that no one has the guts to tell Wolf that. Without anyone to put the brakes on his rampage, Wolf got into the habit of going too far, for too little.

The role reversal from constantly being on the bottom, on the receiving end of other's violence, to being on top, would have contributed to Wolf's short temper and overwhelming arrogance. He reacts to smallest things because he won't let anyone bully him anymore. He's arrogant because he's drunk off of the victory of being on top. There isn't anyone to tell him that he's "done enough", so he keeps going, and going, and going, until it's no longer "retaliation", he's simply become the same as those who he originally lashed out against.

We even see these traits in Gray, after his fight on the rooftop, which Jake comments on. Jake compares Gray to Donald, saying that he's grown used to fighting, even to the point that he enjoys beating people up. But I think, assuming my theory isn't off the mark, the comparison would also work with Wolf.

It's the behavior of someone who has been the victim of aggression, and is sick and tired of putting up with it. They blindly, instinctively, lash out at any (perceived or otherwise) threat to themselves, or that which they want to protect (Gray's friends, Wolf's newfound authority). Other than that, they don't go intentionally provoking others into a fight, nor do they go out of their way to torment those who have done nothing to ruffle any feathers.

The only exception is... Grape, who Wolf seems to get an extra kick out of tormenting. I do suspect that the reason for this will be revealed with Wolf's backstory, but for now I will summarize this entire post by saying that I am the biggest Wolf Keum apologist, and will be a biggest clown too if this theory is completely off the mark.

[ghostchems]

hello my dumbass was up watching horror media before bed even though i know it gives me HORRIBLE anxiety so could we maybe get a drabble or something of terzo comforting a fem!reader having a mini anxiety attack before bed, maybe with cuddling involved? thank you so much :,)

love love this prompt! tw anxiety. about 700 words.

“Oh my god, why did I do this to myself?” You squeak out in a hushed whisper as you pull your knees up to your chest. Blankets and pillows surround you and the only light in your room coming from your dimly light cell phone screen which is now laying face up on your bed. It’s just you in your room. You feel your chest start to tighten and your heart starts to thud. Your phone screen times out and goes black, a jolt of terror striking through you so you quickly unlock your phone. 

It was one of those nights where you didn’t have much to do and you went down a YouTube rabbit hole. It didn’t take long until you found yourself deep into unsettling videos that you could have just scrolled past but your curiosity had gotten the better of you. You told yourself you wouldn’t be scared, that they weren’t real and that you’ve seen and researched far worse things while being a member of the church of Satan but… here you are. 

You try to distract yourself but the thoughts have already taken hold. The thought to text a few of your friends crossed your mind but who would be awake at this hour?

Shit.

You know someone who would be.

Within seconds, he is at your door with somehow perfectly ruffled hair and a sleepy grin. His t-shirt is a bit wrinkly and his sweatpants make it painfully obvious that he is not wearing any briefs. He leans in close to you, his grin only growing.

“Thinking about me, eh, sibling?” Terzo’s voice is deep and husky but at the moment, you couldn’t care less about him being the over the top flirt he is. The two of you had connected recently and the last time you were together things got a bit hot and heavy. 

“I-I’m sorry, Terzo. I’m not in the mood for that.” You whisper, holding your pillow to your chest and clutching your phone. “I’m a little spooked tonight.” A wave of embarrassment washes over you as your cheeks turn bright red. His expression immediately changes to concern and he is quick to loop one of his arms around you and pull you close.

“Why didn’t you say so, tesoro?” He hums into your ear then starts to usher you back to your bed. The light of your phone helps guide the two of you until Terzo flips the switch to your desk lamp to allow a warm, dim yellow light to flood the room. He is so close behind you, his strong nose nuzzling against your hair and neck as the two of you waddle to your bed. You slip into it and he is right there beside you, the warmth of his body pressing into you and his arms wrapping securely around your chest. 

When you hooked up, there was no snuggling or after care, so you’re pleasantly surprised by how comfortable he makes you. In all honesty, you weren’t expecting him to react in such a way to you being frightened but it makes the crush on him you already have blossom and the butterflies in your stomach flutter. 

“Will you stay the night?” You pipe up once you are comfortably nestled underneath the covers and in his arms. The tightness in your chest is already gone and you still feel a little bit like a baby for having to have someone come comfort you.

“Si, si, of course I will. I would not be able to live with myself if you have a nightmare after I’ve left.” He teases, his soft lips brushing against your cheek, You snuggle in close to him and manage a soft giggle as he gives you a squeeze. “Rest now, puffetta. I will fight off the monsters for you.” 

Terzo starts to gently stroke your arms and presses his nose against your temple. You focus on his breathing, his chest rising and falling against you and you start to match the pattern until your eyes start to grow heavy and your mind starts to drift.

Soft breaths puff through your lips as you fall asleep soundly in his strong arms.

[rederiswrites]

I know I'm a day late and a dollar short, but I guess I haven't been Visibly Genderqueer in a while. So sure. I can talk about my trans-adjacent experience.

That's the thing, though. I am not. Visibly genderqueer, that is. If you're a traditionalist, you'd definitely notice that I utterly and completely fail to perform femininity--but then, you also might not. People tend to be very focused on specific features and assume gender and stick with that. My neighbor used to get grumpy because even though she routinely dressed her sons in camo and sports gear, they both had long, beautiful hair, and were both id'd by strangers as girls very regularly. Me, I have big breasts and wide hips, thick thighs, a cute, upturned nose, a fairly conventionally attractive face, and I top out at 5 foot 3 (160cm). I know perfectly well what basically anyone around here sees when they look at me.

They see a woman, married to a man (a very Manly man, at that, both in appearance and habits), with two children. I know that. Even though I am out to anyone who's been around long enough to hear me mention it, I haven't asked for a pronoun change. For me, it's just too much bother. It'd be different if my nonbinary experience were different, but I'm agender. I just don't have a connection of any sort with gender. It's just a sort of void space, a blank incomprehension, though I can observe that This Thing matters a great deal to nearly everyone else.

Well, there's a reflexive avoidance. Long before I had heard words like genderqueer or agender or even trans (when I was young, these words were limited to the queer community for the most part, and certainly not used where I lived), I had a reflexive avoidance of all things feminine. It wasn't a thought. I just knew that I absolutely did not want to wear lace, or pink, or ruffles--yes, we still wore ruffles in the 80's. My freshman year high school picture appears to be a fresh-faced ten year old boy, with short hair, a red and white striped turtleneck, and brown corduroy overalls. But I didn't have thoughts for that, only a feeling.

I envy younger people their confidence that people can and should and will treat them according to their personal relationship with gender. Maybe at 42 I am too old to learn that optimism, even though things are changing so much. I think about going by they/them, and it sounds like teaching multiple overlapping communities how to handle the idea of an agender person. Exhausting. Even though there are trans people in some of my in-person communities, and those communities are making honest efforts to welcome that, a person who just doesn't have any attachment to gender at all feels like going even further back to the beginning, undoing even more of their basic beliefs about the world. Ah, yes, you've begun to accept that sometimes the categories of "man" and "woman" can flip around. Now, how would you like to just reject the entire notion that people necessarily have gender? How would you like to just trash-bin one of the defining elements of Self?

And all this effort, over a concept I don't understand at all. It just doesn't feel worth it.

I am me. My name is Red. I look like this, and I like how I look. It comes with assumptions. Many of those assumptions are wrong. Some of them chafe. But I do not have the time or energy to individually disabuse people of every wrong assumption. I'll just live the way I live, and if that shatters a few assumptions along the way, all the better. And honestly, if you're calling me she or her, I'm probably not there to be bothered by it anyway.

[acourtofthought]

I've seen it going around that the lands of Illyria are Koschei's ultimate goal but if that were true, how would Elain and Lucien close out the series?

In SF, we learn Briallyn fixed the Rite so that she could force Nesta to wear down her powers:

Briallyn had willed him that way. Had moved people around like chess pieces to ensure that Nesta arrived here. "Why?" Nesta said.

Briallyn's thick fur cloak ruffled in the mountain wind. "Your power is too strong - throwing you into this primitive spectacle wore you down."

Briallyn said her original plot was only to grab Emerie to lure Nesta out after receiving information from Bellius on how they were friends but because Nesta was at her house it made it easy for Briallyn to grab them all and that Gwyn was an amusing bonus.

The Rite wasn't Briallyn's goal for reasons related to the stone at the top of Ramiel, it was to wear Nesta's power down to get the Trove from her. And she had to wait until the end of the Rite because she needed Cassian to show up, something she specifically tells us. She didn't care about Nesta or her friends reaching the top of Ramiel:

Nesta cut in, demanding, "I was worn down days ago. Why hold off until now?"

Briallyn glowered at the interruption. "I was waiting for him." She nodded toward Cassian who was bristling with rage - something like loathing and fear now pushing through the cloudiness in his eyes. "Days and days, I waited for him to get close enough for me to use the crown to ensnare him."

Bellius and Briallyn are now dead, the two people most involved in carrying out this plot.

Koschei was as well but his only interest seemed to be helping Briallyn in order to gain access to the trove.

"What Vassa suspected is true. The death-lord Koschei has been whispering in Briallyn's ear. He remains trapped at his lake but his words carry on the wind to her. / He pointed Briallyn toward the Dread Trove - not for her sake, but for his own ends. He wishes to use it to free himself from his lake."

Then later:

"You can take him now, Briallyn. You have plenty of time before dawn."

Koschei said, "Tell my Vassa I'm waiting."

Briallyn planned on taking Nesta as soon as her powers were weakened and once she had Cassian in her hands to obtain the Trove regardless of when during the Rite those things lined up. Anything else to do with the Rite or the Illyrians was irrelevant.

We know for a fact that Elain could technically wield the Trove. I don't think she will but as Nesta is made, Elain is too.

We know that Lucien may have a connection to the Trove considering the reaction Helion had to the mask.

Trying to tie Koschei into Illyria just so it fits a Gwynriel book being next doesn't make sense to me considering we already know his motive. Why are we now adding a brand new reason for his wanting to free himself? He wants the Trove to become the master of their world and to free himself from the lake.

Also, trying to turn Illyria into Koschei's ultimate end-goal doesn't make any sense while then claiming Elain and Lucien will end the series because Elain and Lucien have nothing to do with Illyria.

Koschei took Vassa for a reason and plans on calling her back soon. The plot lends itself to us learning exactly what that reason is and what is about to happen now that she's going to be called back.

Elain had a vision of the box Koschei keeps hidden and we need Elain to discover where the box is.

Koschei wants to gain access to the trove and we know made creatures are the ones can use these items. While it is keyed to Nesta's blood, it's clear that others who are made can use it once it's in their hands as both Bryce and Hunt did.

It's more likely that Koschei would plot for someone to take Nesta's blood in order to call the Trove items to him so he could free himself from the lake but at that point, the only people who could truly stop him would be those who are Made (so Elain or maybe Lucien depending on what connection he has, at least those are the two from the main lineup).

And the pairing who has the strongest backstory giving reasons to visit the lake is Elucien. To save Vassa, to understand why SJM wrote it so Elain's father had been there with Lucien. To stop Beron who is trying to ally with him.

[pumpkinstrawbrew]

you're toxic, i'm slippin' under with a taste of a poison paradise

...

(i always jokingly call their ship 'my chemical romance', mostly bc of the fact that crane is awfully good at chemistry, among the other things. n' i do dearly love this aspect of their relationships. gotta adore how it's literally 'toxic' love, bc the fear toxin is a thing, n' they both end up sniffing it, every time they met. so it's less of poetic language here. it's just that they end up inhaling fumes n' havin' a bad trip. plain as day.

anyho', these arts are circling around the idea of what if at one point, crane dosed both of them on purpose. n' what if he did it as the scarecrow. or more so, when he was in mindset of the scarecrow.

btas crane n' old comic ones are usually depicted as sadists, who ironically are afraid of pain themselves. as jonathan is the sort of man, who is afraid to suffer / be hit / be picked on, bc it was his whole life. he knows how it feels n' he's dreading it. n' while it's cute, i was wondering about more crazy n' drastic measures, that crane might take, even if he knows that it would hurt him, but at same time, would grant him smth that he wants very-very badly. in this context, some 'discomfort' should be fine. n' i believe, that if he's 'out of it' or desperate enough, he might do it.

in this context, him using ft for smth dare i say kinky, isn't out of question. i often think' that crane might view his ft as a connecting link between himself n' batman. even if he doesn't know who batman is, the difference between them is evident. starting from the looks n' ending up with their personalities. but when batman is afraid, it's like jonathan bringing bruce to his level, isn't it? at that moment, they're the same. crane dosing them both is almost a power move. kind of harmful, bc crane cannot quickly overcome his own toxin like batman does. but still, it would take batman aback. give jonathan those 10 seconds of being the 'big bad' man in the room. but that's just a cherry on top. the main point of this is that jon can get away with smth, like a kiss or smth more, bc it would all be lost in horror soon enough. with this nearly an ultimatum in mind, he can waste those few moments *where he still udnerstands what's real n' what's not* to be bold.

i feel like btas crane will be a tad more modest about it still vs his more unhinged comic counterpart. but batman would be caught off guard, either way! i generally do enjoy the situations, where bruce is ruffled n' taken for a ride from time to time. he's very serious n' very prepared, n' all that, but it's fun to let jon score a win. even if it's small, it still would plague batman for days. his enemy dosed both of them, crawled into his laps, kissed him n' then just.....refused to explain himself. n' while it would be puzzling from bruce's pov. i love how it would have been the fear-included kiss for both of them, but jon would have been afraid of it *touching lips with him* even without ft, so this what makes it painfully appealing to me.

i stan by a hc that pleasure is generaly very hard concept for crane. n' he doesn't fully know what to do with it. or how to proceed. any fantasy, where things just nice n' not complicated feels untrue to him. he can't do what harley did n' just smooch the bat. he's not a pretty gal or even someone, who has any skills in that area. more so, the mere idea about how the bat might be willing to do smth with him, outside of being low-key cornered into it or lured into, is beoynd him. which is pretty sad, but it just feels kinda....like, well, jon, haha. i can't picture him as someone, who can overlook his self-hatred n' disgust this easily. but causing smth, when controled by fear n' despair for having that one thing he's pinning for, now this would sound realistic to him.

as for bruce, he can take his revenge by simply kissing crane back. n' also explain nothing. i imagine, that when it happens, crane's brain will freeze. it's like an instant defeat.)

[moremysteriesthantragedies]

To Sully a Wedding Dress

Masterlist | Next

Trigger Warnings for unreality/dream logic, violent imagery, blood/gore, symbolism connecting to rape/physical abuse, twisted womanhood, and internalized guilt around sensuality.

When Florence opened his eyes, he was greeted by nothing but dark. All around there was just darkness, unable to see the walls of the room, making it look endless.

Florence could feel his own body, in a loose sense, shivering from the chill circulating the spot in which he was standing. There was an underground ambience, similar to that of a basement, rumbling in his ears, making the sound of his own breathing sound quiet in comparison. He could hear it become a fog in the air, arms squeezing tightly around himself. 

Except, until there was the sudden flickering of a light, hanging right above Florence. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the sudden shift, making everything a dizzying blur for a moment or two, maybe more. The light took a while to turn on fully, flicking with sparks, before finally lighting. It had a weak, fluorescent white glow. 

In an instant, the hum went silent, and the room returned to a normal temperature. Florence’s ears were filled with the sound of his own breathing, irregular, quiet. His arms, pale and begging for sun, slowly fell down to his sides as he looked around.

Looking around, the light had barely made a dent in the dark, simply adding a gentle, light gray glow to the area around it. Though, it had at least made Florence confident that nothing was in here, batting the oddly elegant chain it was hanging from so it would swing around. Florence followed its glow, seeing nothing but black with the hint of a few grey objects here and there. 

Am I in…a storage closet? Florence wondered, thinking that was the only explanation for the seemingly random and wide range of objects present. Dressers, a bedframe, crates, and a few objects hung up on the wall, such as a mask and hat that kept giving Florence the chills. 

Florence’s eyes stopped, slowly creeping back to that object he’d seen in the dark. The mask, as still as stone, a fedora hung just above, which Florence assumed had covered its eyes as it stared out at him with only its lips and a nose. Except, the fedora wasn’t pushed forward enough, indicating that perhaps it had been a mannequin instead. 

Florence took a step forward, feeling something tickle along his ankles as he did so. His shoes made an unfamiliar, sharp click along the nondescript floor. The figure became more clear to him the closer he came, having too much muscle and mass to be a mannequin, feeling as if they towered over him despite only being 5 inches taller.

In front of him stood a man, around 6 feet tall with combed back, dark hair, a sharp nose, and uncomfortably attractive, well-kept bowtie lips. He dressed professionally, matching his mostly unmoving features. Florence wasn’t even certain if he could see him, wasn’t certain if he was alive in any capacity. Florence’s calloused though delicate hands rose, reaching for the man’s shoulders before pulling them back. Band-aids were wrapped around a few of Florence’s fingers, though he couldn’t remember anything up until this point.

The life-like doll looked just like…wait, was it just Florence’s imagination or had his head just moved? It did it again!

The doll’s head had shifted slowly down, implying an eyeline Florence could not see, hat overshadowing the top of his face. Florence followed where his head had tilted, looking down at himself for the first time since he had awoken. 

He had been placed in a white dress, perfectly feminine and modest, with all those cute frills and accenting bows. It had three layers of frills, the top, the middle, and bottom, with ruffled sleeves going all the way across his elbows. The design was far too elaborate to just be a dress for a casual affair, skirt billowing around his legs, and… 

...why were there…

...accents of…

...red?

Following the crimson seeping through the unprotected fabric, he recognized the dress in an instant. The holes on its sides made it unmistakable, carrying the liquid to lower heights. His Mary Jane shoes served as their final resting place, and, he could feel long hair still pulled into a fresh bun. His stomach metaphorically ripped itself out before being replaced in a reverted state.

Florence started rushing back, flailing in circles as he screamed like a banshee. His fingernails scraped along the smooth fabric, attempting to rip it off, or just rip it in general. 

"No, no, no. Get it off. GET IT OFF ME! No!"

Florence kept repeating this over and over again, wrestling with a skirt that would not undo itself from the whole. It became redder and redder by the minute, waist twinging as more blood fell down his legs. It was a miracle he didn’t trip over himself from the ferocity of his actions, limbs going every which way.

Florence was so preoccupied with this that he didn’t notice when the “doll” stepped out of his display area, standing beneath the light that Florence had wandered from. 

"Florence," A familiar, authoritative voice called and Florence froze.

Florence’s grip remained on his dress, eyes widening at the once dead, now alive man standing just in front of him. 

Listening to it, the voice was more static filled, and he was much grayer looking than Florence had remembered. He remained still, not breathing and yet, the life was evident in his face.

Florence could feel his own breathing slow, pupils dilating. 

"Why don't you just relax? After all, there's nothing to be upset about, is there," the man asked, voice coming out like rain. 

His mouth moved to speak and yet the words felt disconnected from the motion. They were always too slow, or too loud to fit into those subtle movements. 

Florence had calmed down enough to remember where his pocket knife would be stored, grabbing it out from the strap of his stocking and pointing it toward the mysterious stranger.

"That remains to be seen. Just what exactly are you? I know you're not Max. You might look like him but he...he's not like this!" he said, causing the man to laugh.

Yet, his laughs were humorless, lips refusing to move more than what was required for a light smirk or a smile.

"I've never seen you this angry before. You don't sound very certain either."

The man began to walk over, the collar of his pea coat waving behind him and making him blend in with the murky scenery. 

Florence put his hand up, about to tell the man to stop but...wait, what was he going to say? It was on the tip of his tongue yet, no matter how hard he tried to find the words, his mouth wouldn’t budge, just gapping. The only thing that filled his head was static. Quiet, crackling, soothing.

The man approached Florence, taking Florence’s hand and giving it a tender kiss before kneeling down in front of him. He smiled up at Florence who was just stuck staring into that eyeless void.

Florence’s heart began to pound once more when the man casually lifted up his skirt. However, Florence soon realized why as the man examined the scratch marks on his sides. And, also, that he’d worn pants underneath, though the man had to lower them some to see.

“Let me help you, dear,” he said, and Florence’s breathing slowed even more, sniffling.

“Okay.”

His eyes widened, unsure where that response came from when his head felt so fuzzy. His confusion only increased when the man attended to his wounds. 

The man’s touch felt...like silk. Translucent, soft silk, blowing gently in the wind and causing his canvas of skin to be cooled. But it wasn't an unpleasant coldness, warming up from Florence's own, balmy skin that’d become heated in his panic. 

It was as if this man, this thing was truly nothing more than a suggestable piece of fabric. The cloth would wrap around your body, so easily and so harmlessly moving with your joints. An outfit couldn’t hurt, so why not try it on, letting it squeeze tighter, and tighter, and tighter until all circulation was cut off? But, it was so soft, so smooth, that the closeness would feel like a blessing in disguise.

Florence's body froze at the sudden visuals and thoughts, only now realizing they had overcome him. As his vision cleared, he looked back at the man with a flutter of anxiety rising in his chest. The man hadn’t done anything, having successfully cleaned up the blood, and finishing up by applying bandages onto the cleaned cuts. But still. 

As the sensations came back to Florence's body, he realized his hands had gripped onto the man's shoulders, quickly pulling away. This was an action he soon regretted as he realized the squeeze had helped with the pain.

The man’s face or, what Florence could see of it, hadn't reacted to the touch. Florence slowly returned his hands when it seemed the man wouldn't notice. The band-aids showed some resistance against his coat, though they remained in place.

"You're being so brave," the man mused, in spite of Florence's actions.

Yet, even so, Florence supposed he had no reason to worry. The man had not moved to hurt him in all this time, and Florence's wounds were about to be mended, doing his best to ignore the sting. If the man had really wanted to do something, he would have struck when Florence was at his most vulnerable, most likely not even letting Florence know of his presence beforehand. Unless…he was enough of a sadist to…no. 

He shouldn’t think about those things right now. He was being fixed, that’s all that mattered. He couldn’t let the pain drive him crazy, fighting back the urge to grab onto his sides at their constant,  sharp pang. 

He stuck his head up, putting on a brave face and, eventually, it worked.

Once the man was finished, he returned Florence’s skirt to its place around his ankles, doing so carefully to make sure no parts of it remained hitched. Once it was all comfortably draped down, bloodstain remaining and bright against the milky palette, the man pulled away with a smile.

"Does it...still hurt," he asked, not pausing out of hesitation but in an unnervingly relaxed manner.

His voice made Florence feel that fuzziness again. Or, had the blood just had more of an effect on him than he initially thought?

"A-a little."

Florence, now with all his senses soon returning, slowly processed what had just happened. Then, his eyes took in the figure, a shadow all along the top of his face, remaining as peaceful as a windless night. Florence stumbled back. The sound of his steps weren’t as sharp as they once were, soaked beneath him. 

"It's quite alright, dear. You don't have to be afraid. That dress can't hurt you. After all, it's such a comfortable, soft fabric. Is it not?"

Florence gripped onto his skirt, only to find that the fabric had somehow become less coarse underneath his fingers. His eyes narrowed in understanding, muscles tensing.

"S-stop that!" Florence said, continuing to step back and the man made no attempts to follow him.

He just stood there with that smile of his, hands folding behind his back.

“I am merely stating the truth. You feel safe in that dress. You’re so wrapped up in all of its comfortable coils, covering you entirely as if it were a blanket. It’s kept you safe all this time, it even went so far as to be injured for your sake. So, what reason do you have to fear it?”

The man hugged onto himself as if to mime the sensation, hands making a graceful arc as his fingers thinly slid along his sleeves. 

Florence slowly came to a halt, arms wrapping around himself, and fingers beginning to play with the sleeves of his dress. It felt as if it was hugging his body more in a sort of warm embrace. The man took a gradual step forward. 

“It's a shame, isn't it? To sully a wedding dress, especially on purpose. I wonder what that says about your marriage to such a person?”

A couple more steps. 

"Tell me, do you still dream of marriage, Florence? Of your special day, with someone sweet, perhaps? Or, do you only see wedding bells in your nightmares nowadays?"

And a few more.

"I don't know what you're saying," Florence said, tears beginning to prick at his eyes.

Another step and he was right in front of Florence, leaning in to stare into Florence’s face. His eyes remained unseen, but Florence could just feel it. God, he really looked so much like him, the man waiting for Florence to finish inspecting his features before speaking.

"Do you ever dream of marrying me?"

Florence’s cheeks became heated. 

"W-what," Florence stared at him before shaking his head, "Of course not! I mean Max is...he's sweet, and lovely, and I care about him a lot. But I'll never put myself through that again. I know better than that now."

Florence brushed at his tears and the man tilted his head.

"Hmmm, that doesn't sound right, does it? And that again is awfully vague," he said, tapping his chin teasingly, "In truth, you dream about me quite often. Almost every night, when you do dream, that is. We do many things together. Surely it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to propose that one of those things might be a marriage?”

Florence’s hands gripped harder onto his sleeves, falling silent. The man’s smile faintly opened, standing up straight. 

“It's only natural, we see each other every day. And yet, you hide from that, you deny your dreams. All those little desires so wonderfully gift packaged in bottle-sized snippets for you to enjoy."

He tilted his head, smile widening and hand gesturing towards Florence.

"Did you think it'd never catch up to you, dear?" 

In response, Florence had just stared. He’d woken up with a start shortly after.

[bitch-butter]

ok ok ok this isnt like a suggestion or a prompt or anything but like a thought exercise? but anyway--

the five people you meet in heaven, joe liebgott edition. make with this what you will.

this is rough bc truly The Five People You Meet in Heaven was one of my most loathed books I had to read in High School. Which is weird bc objectively I like everything in it and the concept is cool but oof I absolutely hated that book And The Things They Carried (again, should have liked it and Heartily didn't). Also The Great Gatsby, but I grew into really loving that book in my old age lol

BUT this is a good thought experiment, and I'm going to put it in a rivers context bc it's the context I know best. I am of the onion that Lieb d o e s go first (I love that I can Finally acknowledge that Web lives in this verse phew) so Web would Not be one of the Five. The way I'm imagining it is sort of like the book, where some connections are more abstract than others, because it's just true to how life is.

How I see it:

Lieb passes after a long, eventful life. It's peaceful, and it doesn't hurt.

His first level would be his first love, who was a woman named Carmen that he met his first year working for the cab company. She was a year older, was more well-off, and even if they didn't last long and ended badly they learned a lot of those very precious early secrets of life together, including navigating a dynamic that they couldn't necessarily be open about with their families.

The second level I see being someone like Tipper, who saw Lieb at one of the moments where the best of himself was coming through even in a horrible circumstance. Being given friendship, comfort, love in a terrible moment has a profound and lasting effect, and I think being reminded of that is key.

Vonn's wife would be his third. If you've read rivers, Vonn is the old man who runs the barber shop that Lieb comes to work at. My mind palace for him is very detailed, but suffice it to say Vonn's wife died maybe 10 years before Lieb came to the shop, and she had had a lot of concern over how Vonn would manage quality of life, company, and business without her, and she reminds Lieb of the effect he had on ensuring the old man had a place to be, had caring people around him, and felt loved.

In the fourth layer he meets the Young Man from Landsberg who he had interpreted for. Obviously that moment shifted the course of Lieb's life, and throughout the whole rest of it he had thought of that man often, never really knowing what happened to him. He finds that he lived a long, imperfect life filled with the same pain and beauty of every life, and that the fact that he was able to face it at all in spite of the horror he endured was a gift.

The fifth is the Most abstract, and I see it as one of Web's students who Lieb never met. The student was young, questioning, and one day accidentally caught sight of Lieb in Web's office on campus, the easy way that Lieb kissed the top of his head before ruffling his hair. It made the idea of loving the same gender less like an impossibility, made the thought of living authentically and happily, surrounded by others like you, seem somehow attainable.

He's led to Their House, which is their house free of imperfection, in Their City which is also All cities that they've loved together. He waits there, patiently, until one day Web walks through the front door.

[radiodaemon]

For the first time in many years, Lucifer's back was pressed against the wall, a soft groan leaving his vocals as it connected. "Oh ho! Did I hit a nerve?" As he'd hoped.

He wouldn't lie. This was getting exciting. All others simply bowed their heads, doing anything and everything demanded by their king. Convenient, yes, but oh, so boring. But Alastor? He was defiant, honest, and quite entertaining. A refreshing change.

But he would still know his place.

Despite his size, Lucifer was terrifyingly powerful. With a swift lash of his whip-like tail, it wrapped around Alastor's leg, yanking it forward. The king took this moment to shove the demon back onto the floor, where he planted claws on either side of the demon's head, seating himself in the other's lap. He lowered his head, their lips but inches apart.

"You think me weak because I'm small, don't you? Go ahead and try overpowering me, my dear. I welcome you to try..." he purred, leaning up to bring his lips to the demon's fluffy ear.

"Show me what you're capable of, sinner~"

--- shit, shit, SHIT!

Oh, so RARELY does it slip his mind that, while he is feared for the power he possesses and the REPUTATION he has built from it, he is still somewhere in the upper middle part of the food chain... and Lucifer?

Lucifer is at the very top.

With a swiftness even Alastor cannot register, he's seized of his balance and left DEFENSELESS on the castle floor, barely biting back a groan as his back hits the ground and Lucifer takes up residence atop him. He half expected the king to take him out right then and there... to FINISH HIM OFF for such unheard of defiance, yet moments go by and his head is still on his shoulders. How much, he distantly wonders, WOULD it take for Lucifer to dispose of him? How much pushing, how much insubordination? Really, what masochistic FOOL besides Alastor would even CONSIDER playing a game like that?

" Who said I thought you weak? No, no, no, my liege... " Heated breath brushes against a crimson ear, and Alastor internally CURSES himself at the way it, so swiftly, brings a faint, albeit dizzying heat to his own body. If anybody looks weak, in this moment, it's Alastor, much to his own, self caused chagrin, " I do this because I know you are all powerful. Because I like to see what it takes to make you... explode. You are very small, dainty, delicate... "

Beautiful...

" ... but what more is there to our... fair and just king, I wonder? What makes him tick, what gets those sunshine strands ruffled, what makes those pretty eyes darken with ire? Hm? I want to see every single side of you... for reasons you couldn't get out of me now matter how much you play the power card. " A hand dares to raise, slithering its way up Lucifer's body -- tauntingly, teasingly -- against lithe waist and backside, until he can feel and play in those aforementioned sunshine strands. The pieces on the board have shifted... shrouded in shadow, Alastor's own, but unlike MOST of his opponents, he's quite enjoying THIS one, " You haven't killed me yet. Haven't tried. Clearly, I've not pushed ENOUGH buttons yet... "

@the-nexus ;;

[mercury-72]

Chapter two: The boat

Jay

“But its not fair mommy!” I hear Ellie yell at my mom as I make my way out of the bathroom, shaking a towel around my hair to attempt to dry it faster.

I refuse to use a hair dryer those things make your hair super puffy and it makes me look like I have an afro. Fastest way to learn to not let your mom do your hair for homecoming freshman year of high school.

 I toss the towel on my bed giving up for now before grabbing my shirt, pulling it over my head as I make my way into our kitchen where all the noise is coming from.

“Ellie we already talked about this.” Moms stern voice says, I turn the corner to see her pointing at Ellie whose standing up on a stool

“What’s going on?” I make my way over to the stool next to Ellie who seems to cool down once I sit next to her.

 “Oh thank god your finally done Ellies been refusing to eat breakfast without you.” I laugh reaching over to ruffle Ellies hair. She’s finally sat down, looking down at a bowl of coco puffs that are no doubt way to soggy to be edible.

“Where you giving mom a hard time again?” I reach for her old bowl of cereal and go to dump it out, replacing it with a fresh bowl of cereal before pouring a bowl of the same thing for myself.

“Yes and she knows better, I still cant believe she listens to you more then me and your father.” Mom rolls her eyes annoyed but still relieved. She takes her mug of coffee and makes her way out to our living room pulling her phone out as she does. She’s probably going to call dad.

“So what’s so unfair?” I elbow Ellie as I shovel a spoon full of coco puffs into my mouth.

 I look over at Ellie who’s got tears welling up in her eyes and her lips doing the little pouty thing she does when she’s trying not to cry. She hates crying because according to her big girls don’t cry. “Its not fair, I want to go with you”

Oh this again. I see a tear roll down her cheek, as I finish off my cereal. I turn to see if my moms still on the phone, she’s not in the living room anymore so she’s probably gone to their bedroom to talk.

I turn on the stool towards Ellie tilting my head and open my arms to her, she pushes her half eaten bowl away and wipes her cheek before crawling over to me. She sits and buries her head into my chest, tiny fists grabbing my shirt as she cries. I let her get it out of her system, pressing my cheek to the top of her head rubbing circles on her back. This is the fourth time she’s has a full blown crying session since I told her I would be leaving for two weeks.

To say the least, she’s not very happy about it.

 She goes to move her head away, brushing her cheeks again before looking up at me. I look down at her giving her a sad smile, already knowing what she’s going to say.

“Cant I come with you?” Her voice wavers as she asks me the same question she’s asked me a million times within the last week.

“you know if I could take you I would.” I brush the hair out of her face, she looks down like she might cry again. I try to think of something quick because if mom sees her crying again she might actually get mad this time.

Ellie has basically been my shadow since she was born, getting more attached to me then either of our parents. And as much as our parents love our little connection if that’s what you want to call it, they’ve gotten tired of Ellie throwing tantrums almost everyday because I’m leaving and cant take her with me.

 Its not like I’m leaving forever or anything its only two weeks ill be gone. I think she’s just gotten used to my college schedule. I choose a school close enough to home so I can come visit often or they could just come to me.

This may be the longest she’s been away from me so she’s not handling it very well. “I know.” She says, moving to grab her bowl of unfinished cereal and continues to eat it solemnly.

I tilt her chin up to look at me again because I cant leave knowing shell be a wreck and an absolute menace for mom and dad. “Just think if I actually work there then you can come with me all the time after this trip” She immediately brightens, almost spilling her cereal but thankfully she catches it. For a six year old she’s quick.

“Really!” And just like that she’s back to her cheery self, flipped emotions on a dime.

“Yep, and while I’m gone ill facetime you all the time that way you can still see me ok?” Ill just have to tell mom and dad about that part, otherwise they might be confused on why Ellie wants to use their phones twenty-four seven.

 Ellie nods her head vigorously, I laugh thankful I know I've calmed her down and maybe she wont be that much of a wreck while I’m gone. She places her now empty bowl on the kitchen island and hops down off my lap with my help and runs to her room to get changed. I head to my rooms to double check all the things I need are packed, before grabbing shoes.

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

Thankfully Ellie didn’t really cry that much when they saw me off at the airport. This internship is bound to be interesting no doubt and Mr.sato is amazing.

Well obviously he’s amazing but I’m giving him bonus points since he’s paying for all the interns flights. Though there’s only six of us so I doubt he’s breaking the bank much by giving us a hand with transport. We have a flight to costa Rica and then from there we have to board a boat that will take the rest us the rest of the way to the island.

 Now I’m not really sure why there’s a need for two separate ways of transport. Maybe the islands flight lanes or whatever those things are called aren’t finished being built. I do know that much about the island at least. Well not about the whole aircraft thing landing thing, I mean the whole island is still under construction.

 Maybe the boat ride is just meant to be part of the experience, he may be trying to just make sure we have a good time. I read in a interview with Mr.sato that he loves kids even though he doesn’t have any of his own.

I guess that’s good for me and the rest of the interns though. Maybe he’ll spoil us like he would his own kids. Wouldn’t that be cool.

I got off my plane about 20 minutes ago and have been in the backseat of a cab daydreaming this whole time that I didn’t even notice I’m almost at the docks.

Mr.sato put a lot of thought into this whole thing. I mean there was somebody already waiting for me after I got off my flight, a cab waiting for me outside.

Its not really a cab I guess, I shouldn’t call it that. It’s the person who was waiting for me when I got off the plane, in a black button up shirt, wearing a black hat both with matching emblems. Mr.sato’s emblem that was on the acceptance letter I got as well. I’m assuming the rest of the interns are or already have had the same experience as me right now.

The car comes to a stop at a dock and the lady who drove me here turns to me with a smile on her face. She sends me a wink before saying “Were here buddy”

I’m pretty positive she’s older then me but then again I cant completely tell. If she is older then me it cant be by much maybe she’s in her twenties.

 Clearing my throat before I talk, its been super awkward since I got off the plane, she’s the same one who meet me as I got off and helped me with my bags and everything. Obviously she works for Mr.sato but I guess that’s not gonna keep her from trying to flirt.

I thank her as I get out of the car grabbing my bags as she pulls the car up to three identical looking ones. She gets out and heads for the boat walking, well at that rate she’s speed walking her way onto it.

I don’t think she’s very happy that I didn’t flirt back. Man now ive upset two girls within the last what 24 no its probably been 48 hours by now.

I sigh but cheer up as soon as I take a good look at the boat, well its more of a ferry from the looks of it. Its got blue swashes all over it and in the middle of the ferry facing me is the big emblem again. I smile again, I’m way to excited about this, but how can you really be certain how excited someone should be about this.

 I’m imagining the excitement of a kid In a candy store or Ellie getting the thing she really wanted for Christmas.

 Finally making my way to the ferry after gawking at it for god knows how long I see a girl up ahead of me standing on the wooden part of the docks leading right up to the ramp. From the looks of it she’s death gripping her suit case, if she grips that thing any harder she might break the handle.

I make my way over to her, my own suit case trailing behind me. I hear her mummer something about horrible transportation and I can only assume she’s talking about the ferry. “You know some people actually enjoy boat rides.” I say standing next to her looking directly at the fairy.

She jumps making a surprised sound and drops the death grip on her suit case bringing both of her hands up to her chest. I finally turn to look at her and suck in a breath, a little shocked.

Damn I wasn’t expecting someone like her to be interning with me. Though I’m not really sure what I was expecting the rest of the interns to be like.

She’s way prettier then the lady who was trying to flirt with me in the car. Now if this girl was flirting with me instead I probably would have lost my shit.

I realize ive been staring at her but how can you not, look at her. She’s got long straight black hair that goes down to probably her mid back with bangs and these gorgeous blue eyes. Ive never seen anything so bright? They are such a bright blue and dang her eye lashes are long. I almost feel jealous.

I get way to nervous way to fast and can feel all the blood rush to my cheeks and I hope she doesn’t notice it. Instead I realize I haven’t introduced myself at all, ive just made a weird statement and stared at her and now she probably thinks I’m a creep.

“Oh I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to sneak up on you or anything you where just kinda standing here and looked nervous or scared and I just got here so I thought I would at least try and talk to another intern, at least I think your intern, anyway my names Jay Seaver”

Oh my god way to go Jay, way to play it cool. I stick my hand out to her in greeting and she kinda just stares at me for a moment. I almost don’t feel so bad for staring at her if it means shell look at me like that every time in return.

 I go to put my hand down thinking ‘who shakes hands anymore’ when I feel her hand in mine, doing a gentle shake. Never mind. She does.

“Its ok, um I just got here a couple minutes ago too and I am nervous but its nice to meet you Jay I’m Ellery Mitchell I’m an intern as well as you are” I don’t think I can handle this, my brain is in over load. I don’t really react this way with girls, the last time I acted so…smitten? Is that even the right term?

The las time I was this taken by a girl was when I meet Emma stone who I thought was actually Gwen Stacy. I had a huge crush on her and watched only the mazing spider man for like a whole year.

Focus Jay your in the middle of a conversation here.

 She said she is nervous, she was death gripping her suit case so yeah nervous. What’s she nervous about? Water? The ferry? 

“Well hey if your nervous about getting on the boat we can board together” Oh thank god I had a coherent thought and didn’t say something stupid or ramble again.

“Really, that’s so nice thank you” She smiles at me and nods her head looking a tiny bit less nervous.

 “Yea of course cant leave a pretty girl all by herself you know” I just told her I think she’s pretty, this cannot get any worse. Though I think she’s blushing. Yes, she’s definitely smiling at least. Ok at least I haven’t messed up or anything. “Thank you” She says it so quietly I almost miss it.

God I cant stop smiling, this is going to be a great two weeks.

Without even noticing ive grabbed both mine and her suitcase and made my way over towards the ramp leading up onto the ferry. I turn to make sure she’s actually following me up and I didn’t just leave her behind. And yep she’s right behind me.

We make our way up the ramp and finally set foot on the ferry, it rocks a little against the waves coming up to the shore from out in the ocean. Based on that we’ll probably need to set off soon.

The Ferry sways a little again and I feel a hand press against my back, I look back to see Ellery, one hand brought up to her month where she’s chewing on her finger nail and the other hand is up against my back.

 I really want to turn and grab her hand but I don’t, I wouldn’t want to make her uncomfortable, plus we barely know each other. It does boost my ego though that she used me for stabilization.

 I move our stuff inside the ferry where there is thankfully air conditioning. It may be winter break and cold in most places but costa Rica is still pretty warm, and humid. So the air conditioning is nice. I hear Ellery sigh in relief and her shoulders finally drop and she finally seems more relaxed.

The ferry is very luxurious, I don’t feel like I belong but looking around at the people besides the staff it seems like we were the last interns to board. And man none of us look like we belong here. Its all white and pristine and smells like coconuts in here. The majority of this main floor is filled with seating but off to my left there’s a stair case leading to the higher deck. On the wall to the right of the stair case looks to be a bar. At least that’s what it seems like, it’s a curved counter with stools fixed to the ferry. No ones sitting over there so I decide to take advantage of the free seating and move me and Ellery’s suitcases over there.

She follows right behind me as I shove our suitcases against the wall of the counter and hop up onto one of the stools. Ellery follows suit. Climbing up into the stool next to mine. I’m glad she’s decided to stick with me instead of moving off to sit with someone else or alone.

I spin in the stool to face the rest of the main floor, its very open and I cant imagine what this thing will look like once the island is finally open for business. This thing is going to be packed with people. But for now its just workers moving about probably getting ready to set off and four other interns I’m assuming scattered around.

Scattered isn’t a right word for our rage tag group. You’ve got me and Ellery sat at the counter closest to the front of the ferry. Two girls sat at a circle table for two a little further away giggling and then two other guys, one who is literally the embodiment of a surfer dude out on the front deck and another dude with extremely dark curly hair sat on his phone on a love seat.

A great start to things really.

There’s some noises outside of the ferry as I see a couple men removing the ramp and closing off the ferry from the docks. Then other people rushing around, followed by the sound of heels clicking. Then from the stair case a women in a nice green business suit and white high heels comes down. A bright smile on her face as she looks at the six of us before moving to look at the clipboard she’s holding. Gosh I feel like I’m back in high school.

She clears her throat to get the others attention and once everyone is inside and looking at her she smiles once again. “Well hello to all of you, how was the plane ride for you guys hopefully it wasn’t to bad and you at least got to sleep” She says.

“Man I wish I was stuck next to this lady and her baby who cried for almost the entire ride” The kid with the curly hair says, leaning forward. “Oh gosh I’m so sorry that must have been such a pain, if you’d like you can nap on the ferry ride to the island”

“Thanks but I’m not gonna miss a thing even if I’m just staring at ocean for a couple hours.” We all chuckle as the lady once again looks at her clipboard then back to us. “Ok I totally forgot Hello guys my name is Ms. Jessica and I’m Mr.sato’s assistant, I just need to double check that you are all here before we leave” We all nod our heads in understanding and she nods to herself then looks at the clipboard then points to the curly headed kid. “You are Michael Danvers.” The curly headed kid, Michael, nods his head giving her two thumbs up.

 Marking something on her board she then points to one of the girls sitting at the circle table “You are Madylyn Carter” One of the girls at the table, one with crazy ginger colored hair looks up “Yes ma’am” another tick on the board. “Kelly Tate” Ms. Jessica points to the girl sitting across from the red head, the other girl is BLONDE. Like really blonde, I think at that point its called platinum blonde.

 The guy who was standing outside is next, Ms. Jessica points at him “Your Jake Smith I know that one for sure” She doesn’t exactly say it like it’s a good thing she already knows who he is.

But Ms. Jessica is already smiling once again as she lowers her clip board a little gesturing to me and Ellery. “That means you are Jay Seaver and Ellery Mitchell” Me and Ellery nod and Ms. Jessica does a fist bump into the air.

“Yes! So glad I got all of your names down already.” She says lowering the clip board back down to her side. A man comes down from the stair case to quietly say something to her that the rest of us strain to hear.

Ms. Jessica nods and the guy walks back up the stairs “Alrighty are you guys ready to set sail?”

so thats chapter two :)

[cantbelieveimsayingthis]

A Defender of Your Worth: You Deserve Better!

Let's talk about those so-called friends of yours – honestly, I don't think they care about you as much as you do for them. I see you constantly sacrificing to meet their needs, but do they reciprocate? Not even close! Well, let me tell you, I care for you deeply, and I won't stand by and let anyone treat you unfairly. You deserve better, and I'm here to make sure you get it.

You're my woman, and that means the world to me. I can't bear to see you taken for granted or treated as anything less than the amazing person you are. It's time for a reality check, and I'm happy to be the one who gives it to them.

Speaking of dynamics, I've got to admit, I'm not a fan of the "Michelle filter" that seems to dictate everyone's interactions. It's like, "These are Michelle's friends, and those are Michelle's friends' friends" – can we just stop with the labels and cliques already? We're all friends here, and no one should have a monopoly on friendship.

Looking back, I don't regret stepping up and asking if you had a plus one for the wedding. Someone had to look out for you, and I'm more than happy to be that someone. I'll always speak up for you, even if it means ruffling a few feathers. I couldn't care less if anyone likes it or not – my loyalty lies with you.

You are exceptional, and I'll never stop placing you on a pedestal. You deserve all the love, respect, and support in the world, and that's exactly what I intend to give you. You're my top priority, and I won't let anyone undermine that.

So, here's to ditching toxic friendships, to embracing genuine connections, and to cherishing the ones who truly value and appreciate you. With me by your side, you'll always have a defender of your worth, a champion of your happiness, and a true friend who has your back. Cheers to a future filled with real, authentic friendships, where you shine as the incredible person you are!

[writernopal]

I've been thinking about this a lot too, but from the opposite perspective: what makes a book (or media in general) good (to me)?

And you know, anyone could get into the weeds about it but after some analysis on the stuff that I enjoy, I've found there to be one common denominator (forgive my language):

They all serve cunt.

And that's almost as hard to put your finger on 'good' and 'bad' but to me, serving cunt is all about the artist turning it up to their respective 11 and stirring something inside you. Whether it be emotional, philosophical, lyrical, etc.

Its in the sigh of cello's bow. Or a really sweet baseline.

Its in prose so purple you feel like its bruised your heart. Or so succinct that you have a moment of relief because someone finally put into simple words what you feel.

Even in the ruffles of a dress. Or lack thereof.

The intricate, over the top set of a movie. Or the bareness of it to let those on screen shine.

But whatever it is, its about being able to make a connection, to feel something because of that work. To make it impressionable and lasting.

So then, what is bad (to me)?

Something that doesn't make you feel anything. That doesn't allow you to suspend disbelief for the hang ups of the story being told. That makes you nitpick at things and notice the medium instead of the message.

I think that's why its so hard to give a blanket statement on what makes a book or media bad: because we all experience the world differently and can resonate with art in highly nuanced ways. What touches me, might not touch you, and that's alright. It's kind of the point, otherwise why constantly try to push the boundaries of art if we can all agree on what is good and what is bad?

If I keep going, I'll just be babbling for the sake of babbling, so returning to this question:

Where do you draw the line between "I didn't like this book" and "this is a bad book"?

I don't, not really, anyway. If I say something is bad, I mean that its bad for me and nothing more. Precisely for the reasons I mentioned above. To me, the statement "this is a bad book" feels a lot like saying "seafood is bad" just because I personally don't like it.

I'm curious. Where do you draw the line between "I didn't like this book" and "this is a bad book"?

I am so lost. I think to myself, "well, a bad book is a book that doesn't make sense - grammatical sense, logical sense, it's dizzying to read, or it's missing critical information," but (ignoring those instances where the confusion lies with the reader, but the book explained it just fine) plenty of "good" books intentionally don't make sense. And different books make sense to different people.

Well, okay then, "a bad book is a book that didn't accomplish what it set out to as well as it could have," but... by whose definition? Was the author happy with it? If so, then clearly it did what it meant to.

So, what about, "a bad book doesn't say anything profound." Well, first of all, what is profound varies greatly from person to person. And second, you can find profundity in pretty much anything if you overanalyze enough.

Cringe is subjective. Simplicity takes skill. So does complexity. Confusion can be intentional. Some people enjoy their language more flowery than others. Subtlety can be lost on some people. Some people love to spoon-fed and hit over the head. Nothing is really original.

Please. I am so lost. What makes a bad book?

Like, I know it when I see it, but... I can't explain it. I can explain what I liked, what I didn't, what I'd do differently if I had written it. Half the time I can even explain how I'd do it from a technical perspective. But, which of my criticisms are objective and which are just preference?