#like they still work together on a lot of activities

[timperleyworldofwater]

hey so this is something i covered throughout my degree so i'm somewhat qualified to talk about it, plus i lived in austria (the bit that's in the Alps at that) for like a year. but to spell it out as simply as i can: it's not the geology we have a problem with. you are also not being accused of being a white supremacist here, and if you believe that is something you're being accused of, have a think about that. it's a fucking pervasive ideology that is much, much more than white hoods and nazi rallies. hopefully what i'm gonna talk about will help you understand that.

the Alps were vital to the Nazi Aesthetic because they symbolised a ""simpler way of life"" rooted in ""German tradition"" (read: white supremacy). the Nazis didn't really care as much about the actual agricultural traditions of the region which spanned throughout German, Austrian, Italian and Swiss territories, instead they kinda garbled together an aesthetic not dissimilar to the tradwife/homesteading shit we're seeing online today. they're pretty closely interlinked in fact, but that'll take another post to get into. after Austria was annexed, a decent portion of the Alps became Nazi territory, i.e. it was now for the ""German People"" only. invoking the Alps unprompted rings these alarm bells immediately!

plus (only really speaking for Austria here) the alpine villages are not as Untouched and Remote as you want to think. the state of Tirol has a pretty robust transport system (i know this having lived in Innsbruck, which had really good links to surrounding towns and villages outside the city). you also kinda forget you're in the Alps the longer you live there because you only know the mountains by their local names, like the Nordkette or Patscherkofel. it only really matters that they're the alps for tourism or like. geography and geological studies. it's just not important to people living in the (especially German and Austrian) Alps that they're in the Alps because it gets weird pretty fucking quickly if they talk about it a lot beyond basic geographical information. this is one reason out of many why it wouldn't work with DE's main themes, because almost everyone you talk to has something to say about Martinaise, but if it were a fictional alpine village near a state capital, i doubt that would still be true.

like this is what would happen if it was set in the alps: the young witch finds her neighbour's lost cat within 20 minutes of gameplay after asking around and finding it on a farm not too far from her house. you learn nothing about the place, you feel nothing for the characters. you have gained nothing. you might as well have logged on to the latest mmo slop game and beaten a bunch of 12 year olds over the same amount of time.

so anyway i would love to have a game like stardew valley with its fun mechanics and easy gameplay... but it's about a young venture capitalist who moves to the peak district trying to get planning permission for an outdoor activity centre on some farmland. the locals use it as a route for dog walking and hikes and the farmer who owns it isn't fucking budging.

was talking to my girlfriend about this and i think it's the "in the alps" part that makes the tweet so vile. like it is such a lethal dose of ideology it's really the tipping point between an eyerolling but unremarkable tweet and something that expresses a repellent worldview

[nick-writes-stuff]

One-sided Reunion

In-ho/Young-il x gn!reader

Summary: You had been friends with In-ho since you were kids. In the games, there is a man who reminds you of the ghost from your past. In-ho couldn't help but ask you about him, and after the conversation goes poorly, he realizes how dire your situation is.

! warnings: discussing canon-typical violence

a/n: it's finally here! this was so fun to write, and i'm so excited to start writing more for squid game characters. there may be a part two to this one, so keep an eye out if you're interested.

In-ho expected a lot of things when he decided he would go undercover as a player in the newest set of games. He expected Player 456 to try to help the others beat the game with his past experiences. He expected to witness the plans to overthrow the gamemakers in action. He expected the usual danger and chaos and violence. He'd seen his fair share of games before.

He had never expected to see you. He must have skipped over your file during the recruitment process.

This was a pleasant surprise, of course. He always knew that leaving you behind was one of the hardest things he had to do when he left. Sure, leaving his family was another regret as well, but they had definitely become fed up with his behavior before he left for the games. And now, with what happened with Jun-ho, he grew to accept the fact that that bridge had been burned.

He didn't even know how you would have ended up in a place like this anyway. You were never the type to gamble, get caught up in illegal activity, or associate with loan sharks and the like. He figured you must have been there either to help someone or because someone dragged you down with them. He later found this out to be the case, as your father had been having money troubles and used you to try to dig himself out of the hole he made. In-ho had never liked your father.

The first time he saw you, his gaze lingered for a moment to try to make sure it was really you. Luckily, you hadn't noticed him staring, and he averted his gaze to avoid your suspicion. During the preparation process, he did catch you staring at him, however. He pretended not to notice. He didn't change too much appearance-wise since you last saw him, but the years apart were enough to cloud your memory for him to go unnoticed. His demeanor had definitely changed since you saw him as well. He was hardly the same man you knew.

You had definitely changed as well. You were still undeniably you, but there was a bit of that infectious spark gone from you. Your eyes were no like bright and expressive, likely from the struggles you face outside. He wondered how much of those struggles were caused by him. The two of you were very close growing up, and while the bond with his wife and his brother had been stronger, both of those bonds have been permanently severed. Your bond with him may also be severed by this point. He wouldn't know.

When you first started hanging around Gi-hun's group, he realized how much he has really missed you. Your humor, your wit, your compassion. You both worked amazingly together, and it felt like old times. He watched over you in the games as much as he could without suspicion.

After Mingle, Gi-hun had suggested that they start maintaining a look-out schedule to ensure the X's safety during the night. He seemed to anticipate another fight like the one that occurred during his first game. He was entirely correct in this assumption, as the Special Game was scheduled to start the next day after dinner. Dae-ho and himself were given first watch, but the ex-marine tapped out rather quickly. He left to go wake up someone else to continue.

When he heard footsteps, he turned to look but he couldn't make out anything except the red X patch on the jacket.

"Mind if I sit?" He heard your voice.

He shook his head. "No, it's fine."

You sat next to him with a soft yawn. While he and Dae-ho had been sitting in near silence, the two of you couldn't resist quietly chatting. About the games, about the voting situation, about the other players. Once you exhausted those topics, the conversation moved to things more personal.

"You know, you remind me of someone I knew outside of here." You said softly, looking over to the man beside you. You could hardly read the expression on his face in the dark, but you think he raised an eyebrow.

He was conflicted. On one hand he wanted to know how you felt about him—the real him—after he had left, but he didn't know how he would feel about your answer. What if you hated him? He knew how his mother and brother likely felt, and with his wife passing, you were really his only other connection to his life before the games.

Ultimately, he gave into the gnawing curiosity and decided to play along. "Oh really?".

You nodded. "Yeah, you look a lot like him." You started, pausing for a moment as you thought. "Or at least what I remember him looking like."

He acted puzzled by your phrasing, but he knew where this was going. "What do you mean by that?" He asked.

Your expression darkened, looking away from the man inside you. "I haven't seen him in a long time. It's been almost 4 years since he..." You trailed off, not knowing how to put the situation into words.

Young-Il frowned slightly. "Oh... I'm sorry. How did he pass?" He asked.

You shook your head. "No, he isn't dead. At least I don't think he is." You said before sighing. Your gaze lowered to your lap as you began fidgeting with your fingers

"He was a friend of mine since we were kids. I lived a few minutes away from where he and his brother lived. I remember he would always walk me home to my house and then turn around and go to his house. His mom was always annoyed with him because of it but he never stopped." You recalled, chuckling softly.

He forced his expression to remain the same even though he wanted to smile as he, too, recalled this pleasant memory. "He sounds like he is a great man." He said.

"Oh, he's the best." You said with a smile. "He had always been the kind of person that would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it. He even donated his kidney to his younger brother when he had gotten sick."

He had two internal reactions to your description of him. Part of him was beaming with pride as you described him, glad you still thought of him highly after so many years. But there was also a pit forming in the bottom of his stomach as he wondered how you would react if you knew what he had actually been doing in the past few years.

He pressed further, indulging his curiosity about what you thought of him after everything that had happened. "What happened to him?" He asked, pausing before continuing, "If you don't mind me asking, that is."

You shook your head, murmuring a soft. "No, it's fine." before beginning: "Life gave him a bad deal. His wife had gotten sick, and they were struggling to pay for her treatments. He got fired from him job as a police officer. His brother told me he accepted a bribe, but I can't imagine him doing that."

He nodded slightly, making sure his expressions didn't raise any suspicion.

"His wife passed away in the hospital shortly after, and he kind of just disappeared. Packed some stuff and wasn't heard from again." You finished your thought. You took a deep breath to try to keep your composure.

He frowned. "That's awful." He said, shaking his head. Part of him felt awful for prompting you to talk about this when it clearly upset you, but another part selfishly wanted to know what you and his family thought of him now. He felt like a ghost haunting his own funeral, getting to find out what others thought of him when he shouldn't have been able to hear it. "Did anyone ever figure out what happened to him?"

You shook your head. "No. His brother tried to push for an investigation, but the leads ran dry. I know his family is still hoping that he's out there somewhere, but at least his brother is starting to lose that hope." You said.

"What do you think happened?"

The second he asked it, he wished he could take it back. You looked over at him in shock at his eagerness to know.

He felt his heart in his throat as he bowed his head slightly began to speak. "That was out of line, I apologize. I was wondering-"

"No it's fine I just..." You cut him off before pausing. "I just haven't tried to give it too much thought. Sounds too macabre."

Young-il nodded, understanding your hesitation. "That makes sense. I couldn't imagine that being an easy task."

In-ho, however, was somewhat dissatisfied with your answer. He struggled to believe that you hadn't given his disappearance thought until now.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment. The pause was much more awkward than he would have preferred. He thought about excusing himself to get out of the conversation, but you began to speak before he could suggest the idea.

"Honestly, it doesn't really matter what happened to him." You said softly.

His expression quickly turned into an almost confused disgust. What do you mean you don't care what happened to him? He was clearly taken aback by your comment.

You also gave him a puzzled look. He quickly remembered that he shouldn't have reacted so strongly to your statement. It definitely seemed strange for someone you had just met to react that way to a situation that didn't involve him.

Luckily, instead of questioning him, you rephrased your statement. "I mean that in the sense that no matter what happened, I just hope he's happy. I don't need an answer about his whereabouts specifically, but I just want to know if he's okay." You said, taking a deep breath to try to maintain your composure.

"How are you content with sitting by and not searching for him? If I were in your shoes, I would find him over anything." Young-il asked, trying to sound as empathetic as possible. Hopefully, you take his statement as him asking for advice rather than an attack on your character.

Your head snapped up to look at him. Your eyes narrowed as your gaze turned to a glare. You definitely didn't take that as a request for advice.

"Excuse me?" You asked, your voice louder than before but not loud enough to cause a commotion during lights out.

He tried to salvage the situation. "That came out the wrong way. What I meant was-"

"I really don't care what you meant. I just don't appreciate you accusing me of not caring about my best friend."

"That was not my intention. I was just..." He trailed off. Wait. Your best friend? You still considered him your best friend even after all these years.

He didn't have a lot of time to ponder your statement as you continued.

"I love him, okay? I've known him since I was seven years old. I would do anything to find him. You have no idea how desperately I searched for him, even longer than the police and his brother."

He couldn't do anything but sit there and take it all in. The whole situation was somewhat poetic. He was both the object of your fury and your admiration. You spat words at him about how much you cared about him.

You paused for a moment to sniffle softly and wipe the tears running down your cheeks. You took a deep breath before continuing. Your voice was quieter and your words were chosen more deliberately, but he could tell you were just as angry as before.

"My acceptance of his disappearance is not because I don't care about him. If he is out there living somewhere else without me in his life, that's fine as long as he's happy. I've only accepted the fact that maybe I wasn't enough for him, okay? Good enough of an answer for you?"

Despite all of the thoughts running through his head, he couldn't manage to say anything in response to you. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. After a moment of waiting, you scoffed and stood up. You headed back toward your bed, intending to wake up Gi-Hun for him to continue watch with Young-il.

In-ho knew he shouldn't have pried any further. How did he think you would be okay with him asking such questions? To you, he was a stranger, so he shouldn't have been so invested in your answers, but he couldn't resist. He really didn't have anything to lose at this point. This time tomorrow, he would be back in his position of the Front Man, and you could very well die in the games.

That realization hit him like a sack of bricks.

You could die in the games.

And he would have to watch it happen.

He felt a pit forming in the bottom of his stomach, finally beginning to comprehend the severity of the situation you both were in. He wasn't sure why it hadn't hit him earlier. Maybe while he was still a player, he thought he would be able to better protect you. But whenever he steps back into his role, he was going to be powerless to save you.

Ironic, considering he was one of, if not the most, influential man in the games.

Wait. He wasn't powerless at all. Quite the opposite, actually. It wouldn't be easy, but he could pull some strings to help increase the odds of your survival. He could do it tactfully in hopes that the staff wouldn't pick up on his intentions. But even if they did, it was highly unlikely any of them would have the gumption to confront him about it.

Even so, it seems like the players may choose to terminate the games after the tied vote anyway. If he played his cards right, he could orchestrate a way for you to come across him in the outside world.

But there was a glaring problem with this plan. If he ever met you in person again, you would likely realize that he was Young-il even if he introduced himself as In-ho. During the games, your constant adrenaline and overall fatigue would cloud your perception for now, but in the outside world, you likely would be able to see through the man's dual identities. Assuming you made it through the games. He had faith that you are capable of doing so, but this group of players is highly chaotic.

If you ever did find out about his position in the games, would you ever be able to forgive him for causing you and countless others so much pain and suffering? Thousands of players have died in the games, and some would argue that, therefore, they died by his hands. Even more than that, their families have to deal with the sudden disappearance of their loved ones. People outside the games would never understand that the positives outweigh the suffering tenfold.

There was one glimmer of hope left for him to ponder. You did say that you would do anything to have him back in your life.

Maybe anything could include setting aside your morals and accepting that the games do have merit to them. All he's doing is trying to better the world. No matter how unpleasant the means.

He made up his mind. He'd do whatever he could to get you out of there. He wouldn't make you win, of course. That would be too far and a clear violation of the rules. It was also wholly unnecessary for his reasoning.

However, getting you out unharmed is doable. That's something they've all done before after Il-nam wanted to become a player. And it was even happening with himself to a lesser extent. There's nothing that could stop him from pulling you out one way or another.

There were a lot of problems that may occur. Would you realize he was himself and not just Young-il? Would you even give him the time of day once learning his role in all of this? Could you even forgive him for leaving in the first place?

No matter. You were really his last shot at having any aspect of his past life back. He has no job to return to. His wife is gone. And he ruined any chance of reuniting with his brother when he put the bullet in his chest. You were it for him.

[canmom]

one of the people i most looked up to when i was first transing has, many years later, pretty hard disidentified with words like 'trans woman', 'transfem' and so on. they still write to an audience of mostly dolls, but they're doing some other gender thing now, and tend not to like being put in the trans woman/transfem box.

chewing on this and other things. fundamentally I don't think gender is real. I have called it an egregore, and that still seems apt. and yet, words like 'trans', 'autistic' and so on are a pretty powerful correlate with the sort of person I tend to vibe with.

transing isn't revealing some inner girl essence. the forces that produce a trans woman when enacted on the eager-to-reshape-itself human brain don't necessarily only produce trannies: it is one of a number of moves available to you.

it is, however, a really big play in the game. given how ludicrously much gender infects every social interaction, going off-script in a big way is going to affect your psychology hugely. doing that activates the feedback loops, the self-exciting instability, a set of rituals let you become something more 'real', or perhaps more precisely, something you have actively defined. the unpredictable outcome of that process is both the entire point and not the point at all.

rachel pollack spoke of transing in terms of religious ecstasy. "I would argue that transsexuality arises from a passion so powerful that it transcends issues of happiness. The word passion originally meant suffering, not pleasure."

so having made a declaration like, i am this sort of creature, you break everything down and start to rebuild. you go on to take actions to affirm it, or even simply build an inner, secret core, and doing this - physically, socially - transforms the resonances of your thinking.

we have constructed many rituals to make the declaration of transness more definite. a lot of them will affect your sensory experience: the immediate effect of hrt on how your skin responds to touch is surely one of the great virtues. take surgery, for example - do you need to get your penis turned inside out? well: the drama of making a drastic alteration to your body, and the sheer difficulty of getting it, makes it an especially powerful ritual. but it's not the only way to go. indeed, most girls I know haven't done it (whether or not they want to), and instead, the symbol of woman-with-penis has become one of our core subculture-images. in the last few years, the word faggot has come back in a big way, with a real gendered connotation now, sorta like what the girls on here were trying to get at with baeddel before all the shit happened. that's also a move.

so this phenomenon, this new game we're building together, includes surgeries as a move. but it also includes a lot of the subculture-building classics: weird fashions, radical politics, drugs, kinky sex, making noises on the computer, and so on.

and since the whole point of this thing is a process of defining yourself into existence, as soon as something starts to become a cliché, an orthodoxy, a mandated practice, it starts to break down. everything is stupid fucking contextual. if everyone around you is desperately pursuing genital surgery, saying 'I like my dick and want to keep it' becomes a potent move. but if the pendulum swings the other way, once everyone is saying 'do you really need surgery, you know you don't need it to Be Trans, please stay as you are since it's easier for us that way', maybe that ritual regains some of its power. it's perverse. perversity is kind of necessary to it.

so the meta evolves.

i am speaking about transness here, but i think similar forces are at work with other self-id games, autism and so on. there is like, actual biological variation, but far more important is the ideas we're playing with on top of that. what concepts are activated when I think 'autism', now largely positive associations: sensory this, obsession that; not the same as twenty years ago. thankfully my fellow autists made an interesting game to make of it: a space to express something.

[kismetarchive]

Happy new years! I had the idea of reader doing the tradition of eating 12 grapes on new year day and miraculously meeting their dream man a week later (König)

cw: König x gn!Reader

Despite the hurdles, challenges, and unfortunate breakups the past year had brought upon you — you still made it. You made it to the end of the year and now you're with your friends, all of you laughing and giggling while holding bowls of grapes under their rickety old dining table.

"This year I'm finding the man of my dreams. Tall, Kind—"

"The countdown is starting!" One of your friends suddenly interrupted, everyone looking at the TV screen as the countdown ensued.

All your voices muddled together as you counted along with the crowd shown on TV, smiling and shouting in enthusiasm when the clock ticked midnight and it was officially the new year.

Everyone hurriedly ate their 12 grapes, forced gurgles and swallows filling the room with uncomfortably gross sounds.

Thankfully you finished them all under a minute, gulping one last time before sighing in relief.

You crawled out from under the table, grabbing a glass of water to down after shoveling grapes down your throat.

Your heart thrummed at the idea of meeting your dream man soon, hoping that the 12 grapes would work in your favor.

They definitely did — just a lot quicker than you expected.

Unexpected as well.

A week later your workplace was getting robbed by some amateur, their hands shaking as they fumbled with a knife and were yelling out demands for all the money in the cash register.

You would think the scene was pathetic if you weren't at the other end of the knife. You tried your best to remain calm, assuring the robber you wouldn't call the cops as your hands meticulously bagged the money away, only for a man — a really big man — suddenly grab the guy and shove him onto the ground.

Honestly you weren't paying attention to the guy crying in pain or the sound of knuckles against skin from the punches the guy was swinging at the robber, your head foggy as you were actively dissociating from the chaotic scene.

"Miss," A gruff voice spoke to you, an Austrian accent present as he held the bloodied and bruised man by the scruff of his neck.

"Ah— sorry, let me call the police and- and thank you!" You stuttered out, your hands jittery as you fumbled out your phone and called the cops.

You sighed as you saw the robber get dragged away, your manager talking with the cops, and strangely the man lingering next to you.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his posture slightly hunched to meet your dazed gaze.

"Yeah, just— kinda still in shock," You mutter under your breath, a shaky exhale leaving your lips, a breath you weren't even aware you were holding the entire time.

"Do you like coffee?" The man questioned, his gaze firm and steady on your trembling figure.

You raise your head, eyebrows knitted together from the sudden question as you looked at the man's face first for the time.

He was wearing a black surgical mask and had a black hoodie to further hide his face, but you saw his serene blue eyes — heavy yet gentle as they gazed back down with you.

"Why are you asking?" The question finally leaves your lips after a beat of silence, your cheeks growing warm at how he kept looking at you with such fondness. It was so strange how he looked at you — so loving and patient even though he had just tussled with an armed man.

"I know a place not far from here. Let me take you,"

You nodded before your brain even registered what you agreed to, but you didn't mind. He saved you from a robber, getting coffee with the buff man seems reasonable as a sort of repayment.

It was barely even February when by some miracle you two began a relationship and he was exactly everything you wished for in a man. Exactly what you wished for on new years when you were munching on grapes under a wooden table with all your friends and fireworks erupting outside.

「 Masterlist ❤︎ 」

[bimboficationblues]

2024 was a mixed bag. I spent a lot of it malding about my job, but fortunately I am no longer there and have a new one (family lawyer for DV survivors). Idk if I want to keep being a lawyer long term but rn I am making more money, doing more interesting (but potentially taxing) work, and hopefully it will level out to something either tolerable or useful.

long distance with my love is still sad, and we found that polyamory did not really alleviate those pressures, but we have taken some good steps towards a different approach, starting with a monogamy trial run. I found dating around mostly unpleasant despite some exciting possibilities throughout the year - very few people seem to really know what they want and act accordingly. ultimately poly started to feel like I was chasing after an ideal, and I do believe I’d enjoy that ideal. but when the process of pursuing it is so exhausting and unfun and crazy-making it just doesn’t seem worth it. the lesbian connections I found frequently ended because the other person started acting like an avoidant abject meow meow and I simply don’t have the patience.

as far as bringing the long distance to a close, I'm not sure how that’s gonna happen - I love Chicago and I don't want to leave my people. for the first time since maybe high school I do not feel fundamentally lonely and I think that's a feeling worth taking seriously. I've been really overjoyed by my various friendships, both near and far. but I miss my gf dearly. she has my heart. I don’t feel like I’ve ever loved or been loved like this. It’s a difficult situation.

I did get to travel a lot which was nice - this year in addition to regular Washington visits, including one to Olympic National Park, I also went to Barcelona, Toronto, Montreal, Cleveland, and Philadelphia. I am visiting my love's hometown currently and while I was kind of dreading it a bit it's turned out to be overall very pleasant and comforting and nice to see where she came from. Plus I did some visits to the family in SC.

speaking of which, I am feeling generally at ease with my parents. I feel like I've been able to accept that they are limited people, but not to such a degree that it makes being around them impossible, and they have also generally gotten cooler about a lot of things. we have a lot in common and it is generally fun to spend time with them despite their foibles. being able to do drugs together also helps. my dad turned 60 this year and my mom has been having health issues, which I do think has made entropy be on my mind a lot more to a troubling degree. dunno how I’ll handle that when it becomes a more pressing consideration but I guess that’s a problem for the future.

last January I made a conscious effort to approach my passions and hobbies more intentionally by making a daily schedule that roughly looked like this:

MONDAY - fiction reading; TUESDAY - history studies; WEDNESDAY - philosophy/political theory studies/writing; THURSDAY - working on music; FRIDAY - watching movies.

I also tried to get some daily activities going on top of all these - listening to at least one full album a day, regular walks, practicing guitar, yoga. keeping to this was inconsistent - sometimes I was locked in and sometimes I'd get derailed by other priorities (spending time with the love, seeing my lovely friends, getting stoned, travel). sometimes certain activities are just easier (reading comics is always fun and also minimally demanding of my energy, social media and doomscrolling is a tempting time-sink). I might try and revise this approach in some ways - I might want to take a harder tack with how much time I want to spend on each activity - but I do think that even just being deliberate and structured about how I spend my time made my mental state significantly stronger. so that is a positive development.

artistically I've made progress on the album, but I never feel like I have enough time to dedicate to it with work and everything else. but I also think my approach of trying to write all the songs first before recording them was the wrong one. so instead I think I'm going to start trying to get what I've roughly finished into a recorded form and in the process a stronger vision of the project will emerge which will help with future songs. this will require me to learn some new skills - I've always worked with a producer before - but that's not a bad thing. my friends and I are also doing a writing workshop so that will be nice to get feedback from people I love and trust.

social media has been real bad for me this past year in a kind of emotionally masochistic way - I found myself hatereading a lot more, which is bad. I’m hoping I can adjust that this year and stop getting brain damage from pissing myself off.

part of the reason for the above is that the political situation domestically and globally is dire and basically I just see cope or rationalization everywhere which, considering the urgency and scope and existential weight of what’s happening, is really infuriating to me. I feel like after a year of some of the most depraved inhuman butchery imaginable, as the ruling class takes refuge in obvious bad faith that is “all the more odious because it is less and less likely to deceive,” and with Hitleritis running rampant through civil society, we need a sober reflection on the challenge ahead of us as socialists. I do not want the ruling class to annihilate the rest of us with them or for capital to find new, intensified, and more insidious methods of shifting crisis around. this is partly why anti-intellectual, regressive forms of Marxism have been stuck in my craw lately, because it feels like psychological palliatives masquerading as politics. I’m not sure what the move is to really turn the tides of the war we are in, but doing away with self-deceiving political impulses seems like a start.

[mylovesstuffs]

SEVENTEEN when their s/o bakes them a cake that turns out disastrously

Seungcheol: Seungcheol would laugh it off and finish the cake regardless, just to show how much he appreciates your effort. Realizing his own limitations in the kitchen, he’d suggest ordering dessert or calling someone who knows how to bake (like his mom) to guide you next time.

Jeonghan: Jeonghan would tease you endlessly. “Wow, are you trying to poison me?!” But deep down, he’d find it adorable and might even eat some just to show he appreciates your effort. Later, he’d jokingly tell the other members, remind him to keep snacks handy next time you bake but definitely no hard feelings!

Joshua: Joshua would laugh it off in the most gentleman way possible and try his best to eat it, even if it tastes awful. “It’s not bad at all! You put your heart into it, and that’s what matters.” He’d probably bring up a funny and embarrassing story about his own cooking fails to make you feel better lmao.

Jun: Jun would be sweet and encouraging, eating the cake with a straight face and not complaining or letting his expressions show. He might gently suggest baking together next time, subtly guiding you without hurting your feelings.

Hoshi: Hoshi would still be his dramatic self but wouldn’t even attempt to help you in the kitchen. “This is so unique—Michelin star material!” Then, sensing your disappointment, he’d immediately order a fancy cake or dessert delivery to cheer you up saying this is their backup plan! But he'll would seriously suggest, Mingyu or Jun for a crash course in baking.

Wonwoo: He would eat a small bite and give a small smile, quietly placing the fork down. “You worked hard on this. That means a lot.” Knowing he’s not skilled enough to help, he might suggest baking as a fun activity for the two of you—but with supervision from someone better at cooking. Alternatively, he’d find a simple no-bake recipe online and try it out with you to build confidence together.

Woozi: Woozi would take one bite, pause, and then try to give you honest feedback without being mean. “Okay, maybe next time a little less sugar... or salt?” But he’d also finish his piece anyway because he really appreciates your effort.

Dokyeom: He’d be so touched that you baked for him that he wouldn’t even care about how it turned out. With a big smile, he’d take a big bite and dramatically exclaim how amazing it is to make you laugh.

Mingyu: He’d immediately jump in to ‘fix’ the cake, assuring you with a big smile, “Don’t worry, we can save this!” He’d turn the disaster into a fun bonding moment, teaching you tips along the way and hyping you up for even trying. By the end, the kitchen would be a mess, but you'd at least have something edible to share.

Minghao: Minghao would be honest but not hurtful. “This didn’t turn out how you planned, right?” He’d suggest analyzing what went wrong in a supportive way then he’d probably insist on baking with you next time to show you his own tricks and ways.

Seungkwan: Seungkwan would try to keep a straight face while tasting it but would burst out laughing BECAUSE HE CAN'T KEEP LOW. “Okay, I’m sorry, but... what happened here?!” He’d tease you affectionately but still praise your effort and insist on ordering dessert as a ‘reward.’

Vernon: Vernon would be super chill. If the cake was truly inedible, he’d order takeout or a dessert you love, turning it into a mini celebration instead of a disappointment. But please keep him away from the kitchen.

Dino: Dino would be so excited that you baked for him that he wouldn’t care how it turned out. He’d eat it happily, even if it’s terrible, and might even ask for another attempt, saying, “Let’s make it together next time!”

[silenzahra]

🌼 A lonely flower 🌼

It turns out today is a very special someone's birthday... 🤭🎂

... Sooo here's my present for my beloved bestie! 😄 Hope you like it, my dear @bberetd, and I'm wishing you the happiest of birthdays! 🥳🎂🎈👏💖

I came up with the idea for this Luaisy fic thanks to two sources of inspiration. The first one was this song that I adore so much and that, to this day, still speaks to me:

Here's the translation and here are my thoughts about it that ended up giving birth to this story.

And the other thing that was crucial for this fic to come to life was your own Luaisy story, Miraculous shelter, as I thought it worked perfectly well as some sort of follow-up for it. And thus I decided I wanted to surprise you with it, and what better day than today! 🥰 I sincerely hope you'll enjoy it, my dear bestie 🫂💖

As usual I'm posting this on both AO3 and Tumblr! You'll find nods to your story as well as some of my works such as Biggest fear and my post Luigi serenades Daisy. And also a little bit of @vulpixfairy1985's story A moment together as it's becoming customary for me 🤭

Speaking of which, I would like to especially thank my big sister @vulpixfairy1985 as well as @megamagimugi and @itsavee4117 for keeping the secret for so long, and if you're interested in reading this story, I sincerely hope you'll enjoy it as well! 🥰

@peaches2217 @pepperycar @kelbreyworshipper @teegeeteegee @dragon-fly34 @kimasousparky @artycomicfangirl @mikibaby94 @smokszyvverstar @eleventhhourfactor Hope it's okay that I tag you too in case you'd like to read this fic, but of course it's more than fine if you aren't!

✨ AO3 LINK ✨

(I don't know why, but AO3 links aren't working on Tumblr today, or perhaps it's just me lol. I'll edit the post as soon as it's fixed).

I really hope you enjoy, and as always, likes, kudos, reblogs and comments on either site are more than welcome 💖

🌼 A lonely flower 🌼

When Luigi arrives in Sarasaland to, once again, surprise his beloved princess, whom he misses deeply, he did not expect at all what he was going to find.

He thought it would be almost like the first time he came to visit her unannounced. He thought that, perhaps, he’d find her overwhelmed, maybe even stressed, the light in her eyes, always as bright as a star, dulled by the amount of work that her royal duties force her to do and which, for her, implies a greater effort than for others. Her tireless energy pushes her to be always active, always moving, but her responsibilities as future empress of Sarasaland require that she spends a lot of time sitting still and concentrating on the same task.

It's too much for her.

Still, never in a million years would Luigi have expected to find his vivacious and always cheerful girlfriend crying alone.

For a few moments, Luigi stands in the doorway, paralyzed, his fist inches from the wood, ready to knock. The ajar door gives him a glimpse inside of Daisy, sitting on her bed, shrinking in on herself and trembling slightly, her crown forgotten on the bedside table. Her muffled sobs are like daggers stabbing deep into Luigi's soul, and he’s torn between keeping silent so as not to startle her or rushing to her side and hugging her with all his might. The last thing he wants is to scare her, or to feel like he’s meddling where he’s not wanted, but his most primal instinct, that which is overflowing with love for his Fiore, screams at him to run and allow her to find refuge in his arms.

In the end, as he watches Daisy, with her back to him, cover her face with her hands to try to silence her crying, Luigi decides on an intermediate option. He finally knocks his fist against the door gently as he steps into the room, not without a certain shyness.

“Knock, knock,” he murmurs as he does so, smiling an unsure smile. “May I?”

Despite his attempts not to make too much noise, Luigi witnesses Daisy's slight startle. He sees her clasp her hands against her face and hears her faintly hiccup, and he stands still until she mumbles a soft “Come in.” Despite this, Luigi enters the room slowly, insecurity bubbling in his chest. What if he's making a mistake? What if what Daisy needs is to be alone? What if he is, in effect, meddling where he's not called?

When he's halfway between the door and Daisy's bed, she finally turns to him. Unwillingly, Luigi stops in his tracks as he’s once again paralyzed by the immense sadness dancing in her beautiful blue eyes, reddened from crying, some traces of which still remain on her freckled cheeks. Even so, Daisy tries to mask it all with a smile and, seeing him stop, she gets up to be the one to close the distance between them.

“Sweetie,” she exclaims, and there’s a sincere joy in her voice, but Luigi can perfectly discern the absence of his girlfriend’s characteristic effusiveness that always shines in her tone when she addresses him. “You're here!”

She stretches out her arms to him and Luigi does the same by instinct, clasping in his fingers the hands of his brave princess, who squeezes him back even tighter. Maybe even with a subtle hint of desperation, Luigi would say. He watches her silently, worried, and notices how Daisy tries even harder to hide the fact that, just a few seconds ago, she was crying.

“How come you're here?” she asks, giving him a smile that doesn't reach her eyes.

“I-I wanted to... surprise you,” Luigi finally says.

He tries to return her smile, but he’s sure that the only thing he’s managed to compose is a twisted and strange grimace.

“Well, you did,” she replies, letting out a chuckle that, despite not sounding fake, doesn't sound entirely authentic either.

It doesn't sound like Daisy.

“Did you bring cake today, too?” she asks before he can add anything.

Luigi takes a few seconds too long to register the information and try to give her an answer.

“N-no, I...”

He blinks, trying hard to focus, and responds as his mind tries to come up with the right way to address the issue Daisy is trying to hide.

“Actually today I was thinking... maybe we could go for a walk? I brought the ukulele.”

“Perfect!”

Daisy lets go and claps her hands in a way that feels somewhat more enthusiastic than usual. Playfully, she slips a hand under Luigi’s hat and ruffles his hair without looking him in the eye as she begins to turn her body to walk towards the door. Luigi, ignoring the fact that his cap is about to fall off, then understands that she’s about to leave without further ado, to continue pretending that she’s fine, that nothing is wrong. For a second he doubts whether he should say something or whether, perhaps, what Daisy needs is a distraction. To stop thinking about whatever has happened and have a nice time to help her cheer up.

But Luigi can't bear the thought that when it's time to say goodbye and his beloved girlfriend is alone again, she'll burst into tears once more and he won't be there to comfort her. From his own experience, he knows that the best thing to do is always to let it all out and keep nothing inside. It's what always works for him, and although he sometimes has a hard time getting Mario to open up, he knows that, like him, his brother also feels much better after expressing his feelings to him.

He may have even more work ahead of him with Daisy than with Mario, but that doesn't mean he's going to give up. He never would. Not with his brother, and not with his girlfriend.

So, with determination and the hat misplaced on his head, Luigi bends down to take his princess's hand gently, thus making her slow down and turn to him again.

“Daisy,” he says, his voice filled with concern, and his brow furrows slightly as he adds in a whisper, “Are you all right?”

For a few seconds, Daisy is silent and only holds his gaze, blue against blue. Luigi waits, ever patient, never pressuring her, but it’s not too long before, in front of his eyes, the beautiful face of his beloved princess crumbles completely.

Luigi's hand suddenly finds itself grasping at air, as Daisy, in one swift movement, brings both hands to her face to hide from him. Luigi can practically touch his fingers to the visible effort she’s making to hold back a sob, which, however, ends up bursting from her mouth, sounding muffled against her palms, though just as heartbreaking.

As soon as he notices Daisy's legs begin to buckle, Luigi rushes to wrap his arms around her and holds her tightly, squeezing her steadily as she falls and letting himself fall with her. Due to the strength of their embrace and the fact that the princess is cowering on herself, there’s a brief moment when Luigi's hat also covers Daisy's auburn head a little, before he removes it altogether and drops it haphazardly, more concerned about his Fiore than his tousled hair.

When their knees reach the ground, Luigi gently places a hand on Daisy's shoulder to pull her to him, and she, in tears, does not resist and lies on his chest. Luigi pulls her close and strokes her hair tenderly, his arms around her like a shield meant to protect her from any harm and create a safe, warm haven only for her.

His heart breaks with every sob that escapes Daisy's system, with every hiccup she emits, with every tear that wells up in her eyes. Luigi holds her tightly as she cries disconsolately in his arms, his left hand rubbing her back slowly, his right hand stroking her hair softly. His beloved princess seems so broken that he can't help but wonder... how could he not have seen this before? How has he been so blind as to not see it coming? Is he such a bad boyfriend that he’s incapable of realizing that his adored Fiore is suffering right in front of his eyes?

The ache in his chest increases, now spiced with guilt, and he deposits a soft kiss on his princess' hair as he notices that a few furtive tears start to flood his eyes. Daisy then pulls a hand away from her face and clutches the fabric of his overalls in her fingers, and the desperation in the gesture, in her voice overwhelmed by grief, in the side of her face that is now visible if he looks down, causes Luigi to squeeze his eyelids tightly and the tears to begin sliding down his cheeks. Daisy's pain is his pain.

She moves the hand she was holding over her face so that it now covers only her eyes. Luigi is then able to place his lips on her forehead in an attempt to comfort her and presses them gently for a few seconds to try to convey calm. His kiss is wet, damp from his own sadness, but he won't let that stop him. Daisy, his Daisy, his favorite flower in this and all universes, needs him, and Luigi is not going to fail her.

For several minutes, the two remain on the floor of the princess' room. Luigi doesn't relax his grip on his girlfriend for a moment, cradling her in his arms with all his affection, his fingers slowly and delicately running through her auburn, messy hair. Daisy, her head pressed to his chest, continues to hide her eyes with one hand while clutching his overalls with the other. She convulses in Luigi's arms from crying, and he, silently wailing, goes on kissing her forehead every few seconds, keeping his lips on her tanned skin for a little longer each time.

His thoughts wander in his head, intermingled with a myriad of feelings that imprison his heart like an ever-tightening claw. Daisy, his Fiore, his sassy, giggly princess, is suffering for something Luigi is not even able to suspect. She, who’s always been there for him, who has often comforted him, who on more than one occasion has followed him with her clothes on her back just to make sure he was all right. She, who has been the umbrella he needed when the downpour in his eyes flowed like a salty river. She, who has stayed by his side when everyone else, always with the exception of Mario, had left, and reminded him of who he is even when he himself had forgotten, encouraging him to wave his flag with pride.

She, who has made a huge place in his heart with all the love and adoration she has for him. She, who has taken over every inch of his body with her overwhelming personality and sparkling energy. She, who pronounces his name as if she were reciting poetry. She, who always makes him feel as if time has stopped every time they are in the same room.

She, who has taken over Luigi's life so much and has become so present in it that it's as if she were hung in every strand of his hair.

She, Daisy, his Fiore... she has been all this time suffering in silence and masking her pain so as not to worry him. Neither he nor his friends, of course. She has kept it all to herself and has only given it free rein once she was alone.

Probably, if Luigi hadn't caught her crying, who knows how much longer she would have kept it up. Maybe, in fact, he’d never have found out. Maybe that's the reason why Luigi didn't need to insist as he does with Mario: because, plain and simple, Daisy couldn't take it anymore.

Luigi sighs as he continues to hug her. And to think that he’s shown up at her home by surprise because the balloons he was giving to a Toad reminded him of her... One was green, his favorite color, and the other one was shiny gold. Exactly like the balloons that had made them float on that magical night when his brother took him to Sarasaland in his Odyssey ship so that he and Daisy could share an enchanting moment together. Seeing those colors blending together as the Toad happily drifted away with his balloons in hand made Luigi experience a sense of suffocating anguish that, as he well knew, could only be cured if he was fortunate enough to behold his beautiful Fiore in front of him once more.

And he’s been able to do so, yes... but the feeling of anguish has only increased in his chest as he found her submerged in such a state of extreme sadness.

He wouldn’t be at all surprised if his princess hated him. He’s been an absolutely horrible and despicable boyfriend. He’s remained oblivious to her pain and hasn’t been able to reciprocate her as she deserves. He’s certainly earned it in spades that Daisy doesn't want to be with him anymore, that she doesn't want to see him again, that she doesn't want to share one more measly second by his side. He’s been completely blind and has failed to measure up.

However, as long as she needs him, he will remain by her side.

Luigi has no idea how much time has passed when he finally notices that the intensity of his girlfriend's sobs begins to subside. Even though the guilt is still tormenting him inside, he feels relief fill him as well, like little gusts of air that grant him a brief respite. Of course he wishes Daisy would let it all out and let nothing stay inside, but that doesn't stop Luigi himself from suffering unspeakably as he holds his broken Fiore in his arms.

Still, he doesn't move. He allows Daisy to catch her breath little by little, at her own pace, and not only does he not alter his position, but he gently presses her head to his chest in a burst of affection. Her hair brushes his ear and tickles him, and Luigi, fearing that this is the last time he’ll have the chance to do so, closes his eyes to enjoy the sensation. He notices that Daisy relaxes a little the fingers with which she still holds his overalls at chest level and is pleasantly surprised when the princess finally takes her other hand away from her face and reaches out to put her arm around his back, so that she’s now hugging him too. Luigi feels his heart calm down somewhat and pulls her a little closer, placing a kiss on the crown of her head. He can't help but smile through his tears when Daisy snuggles a little more against him, seeking the warmth of his embrace, which he doesn't hesitate to bestow on her.

A few more seconds go by in complete silence, calming in each other's arms, until Daisy's voice emerges, shy and muffled.

“I'm sorry,” she mumbles, sounding almost embarrassed.

In response, Luigi kisses her hair again as he holds her tightly.

“There's nothing to be sorry about, Fiore,” he whispers, his voice laden with gentleness.

Daisy squeezes him a little tighter, rubbing her cheek against his chest, as if seeking a more comfortable position, and sighs. Her arm slowly drops from her overalls and passes under his, so that Luigi now feels both of his girlfriend's hands on his back.

“I didn't want you to see me like this,” Daisy confesses in a whisper.

Luigi understands. Even though he’s unable to hold back his emotions, he only feels comfortable expressing them in front of three people, and Daisy is one of them. She makes him feel confident and self-assured in a way he’s never felt with anyone but his brother, though in a different way, of course.

He never hesitates to open up to her when he needs to, because Daisy makes him feel secure, safe and at ease. Maybe... she can open up to him too? Maybe he can make her feel safe too?

Or maybe it's already too late?

“Do you... want to... talk about it?” he offers, unsure.

His hand wavers slightly on her hair as soon as he feels her tensing in his arms. Slowly, Daisy sits up, pulling away from him, though she doesn't quite break contact: as their arms slide down each other's backs and they face each other, she reaches for his hand.

When their fingers meet, they squeeze as if their lives were at stake.

Luigi notices the way Daisy averts her gaze as she purses her lips. She seems to be searching for the right words to start talking. Wanting to comfort her and show her that he’s there for her, ready to listen, Luigi places his other hand on his princess's cheek and gently caresses it, sliding his thumb over her tanned skin to erase the traces of crying and to brush the constellation of freckles that dot her beautiful face. Daisy closes her eyes at the touch and leans her head into his palm, taking a deep breath.

“It's just...” she murmurs, interrupting herself to sigh as she rubs her arm with her other hand. “It's really silly...”

“Daisy.” Luigi gently turns her face so he can look into her regret-laden eyes. “If it makes you cry like that, it's not silly at all.”

His girlfriend's lips pucker slightly before she composes a weak smile, and she pulls her hand away from her arm to rest it on Luigi's, who continues to caress her face with gentleness. He smiles at her too, wanting to convey so much to her in that simple gesture that he doubts he can succeed.

“Luigi, I...” Daisy begins to say and is unable to hold back another sigh. “I feel lonely.”

The smile fades from Luigi's mouth at the simplicity with which she says it. He freezes inside as he understands it all, as he understands the true meaning behind Daisy's crying, behind her words, behind her sadness.

But, before he can take it all in, she continues:

“It's just that...” She shakes her head, distressed. “It's nobody's fault, but even though I go to visit you in the Mushroom Kingdom so often, in the end I always have to come back to Sarasaland. And, yes, I have friends here too,” she hastens to clarify, “but I don't have as close a relationship with any of them as I do with you. It's not the same, you know?”

Oh, yes, Luigi knows. Throughout his life he’s met a lot of people, but with none of them he has been able to establish such a deep connection as the ones he has with his beloved brother Mario, his dear friend Peach and his adored princess Daisy. The three of them are the essential pillars of his life, those who know him best and most deeply, and every time he has to be apart from them, especially his brother or his girlfriend, he suffers to such a degree that anxiety takes over his heart. Exactly as it happened to him the day before.

Still, he lives with Mario. He sees Peach every day. They spend a lot of time together, and also with Toad, and Toadette, and Yoshi, and all the others, and when Daisy has a chance to join them, the joy that brims over him is so great that Luigi feels on top of the highest cloud.

But he had never considered that, while he despairs with every second he has to be separated from his beloved princess, in the end it is she who is the most isolated. She’s not the only one who doesn’t reside in the Mushroom Kingdom, true, but Sarasaland is the farthest away from it. The links between the two countries are complicated and convoluted, needing to use various pipes to get from one place to another, and there’s even a section of the way that must be done by train. It’s never easy or quick for Daisy to visit her friends, which is why she often stays for several days at Peach's castle.

And Luigi suddenly realizes that, perhaps, behind these long stays lies more than just the complexity of getting to the Mushroom Kingdom from Sarasaland.

Perhaps it hides Daisy's need to be accompanied, to spend as much time as possible with her friends, to feel them close and not find herself alone so often. Perhaps it hides a deep desire to be part of a whole, to nurture the connection she shares with the most important people in her life, to try to shake off the feeling of being confined and secluded in her beautiful but distant home.

Unwillingly, Luigi's mind begins to wander in search of possible solutions to soothe his girlfriend's pain and prevent her from ever feeling this way again.

“Of course, this doesn't mean that I blame anyone,” Daisy says suddenly, looking at him worriedly. “It's just a situation that's happened and that's it, and at the end of the day we all have our responsibilities. It's just...” she sighs again, her expression full of dejection. “I can't help feeling this way.”

Luigi watches her silently for a few seconds, saddened to see her so spiritless. He gently squeezes her hand and reaches for the other, grabbing her fingers gently to bring them to his mouth and place a soft kiss on them. Daisy looks up at him as she feels his lips graze her skin, and Luigi gives a weak smile in an attempt to comfort her.

“I understand, Fiore,” he says sincerely. “I understand why you feel this way in these hard circumstances, and I'm sure our friends would understand too. I...” This time it is he who sighs, and he blushes slightly as he admits: “The truth is that I had never taken a moment to think about it, and I apologize for that. I'm really sorry I didn't see it before, Daisy.”

The eyes of his princess are covered with tenderness at the frankness that oozes from each of Luigi's words, and this time she’s the one who gives him a gentle squeeze on his fingers. Only her sweet smile and the infinite affection that emanates from her blue gaze are enough to somewhat relieve the guilt that has clung to Luigi's heart.

“But I'm here now,” he adds, squeezing his hands. “And I hope I can help you find a solution so that this doesn't happen again.”

Daisy's smile becomes sad and even a little bitter.

“Luigi, I...” She remains silent for a few seconds trying to find the right words. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart, but I’m well aware that there’s no solution to this problem. I just have to... learn to live with it,” she concludes, shrugging in resignation. “Learn to live with the fact that Sarasaland, my beautiful and beloved home, is... lonely. And that's it.”

Luigi can't help but raise an eyebrow. It's not at all like Daisy to give up. He stares at her for a few moments, confusion painted on his face, but, before he can find something to say, Daisy adds:

“I admit that at times I’ve considered... leaving.”

“Leaving?” Luigi repeats, puzzled.

“Sarasaland” she explains, smiling with remorse. “Go live in the Mushroom Kingdom, or Tostarena, or even the Beanbean Kingdom. Any of those places would bring me closer to all of you. But...” she adds, sighing again, her tone full of melancholy. “I could never leave Sarasaland. It’s not only my home, but also my empire. Someday I’ll rule over its four kingdoms, and I love each of them and their different cultures with all my heart. Anyway,” she continues after a few seconds of silence, and gives him a rueful smile. “I suppose I’ll always be at a great crossroads. But honestly, being aware of it doesn't make it any easier.”

She ducks her head, exhaling for the umpteenth time. Everything in her gestures, in her expression, in her posture, screams how dejected she really feels, and Luigi just looks at her wordlessly. What can he add to what his Fiore has just confessed to him? He would never have imagined that this desire was buried deep in the heart of his princess, but he can't say he blames her. After all, isn't he incapable of going more than a whole day without seeing Mario? What must it be like for her to go for weeks at a time without being able to see all of her friends?

Luigi feels a physical pain in his chest just thinking about it.

“Besides,” Daisy goes on after a few seconds in which Luigi hasn't been able to find anything he can say to comfort her, “honey, while I appreciate your desire to help me, it's not your job to solve my problems.” She caresses his cheek with affection and Luigi can read in her eyes that she really is grateful. “It wouldn't be a healthy relationship if I expected that from you.”

“I know,” Luigi assures her, “but it is my job to be here for you, Daisy. I know...” he adds, shame flooding his insides, “I've been a terrible boyfriend not realizing sooner that you were in pain...”

“Luigi, honey,” Daisy interrupts him, gently placing her finger on his lips. “You haven't been. I didn't want you to see me like this, remember? You and I...” As she lowers her hand, another sigh escapes her mouth. “We don't spend enough time together. And when I'm with you, I want to make the most of every second. I didn't want to... waste it like this.”

“Daisy, il mio bellissimo Fiore...”

Luigi cups her face in his hands and leans towards her, yearning owning his every move. Daisy's warm forehead soon meets his, and he closes his eyes for a few seconds as he soaks in the touch, trying to hold on to it to calm his frantic thoughts. Daisy is silent and rests her hands on his arms, and Luigi clutches desperately at every point where his body and his princess' are touching, however lightly, to try to mitigate the grief that grips his soul.

“It's not a waste,” he says after a few seconds, whispering and panting slightly,. “It never is, I promise. It's... it's a lesson I've struggled to learn, but expressing how we truly feel and asking for help is never a waste, much less a weakness.”

He feels how Daisy clings to his arms a little tighter, and when he opens his eyes, he notices that she’s pursing her lips in a clear attempt not to burst into tears again.

“Luigi, I...” she mumbles in a strangled voice, “I don't want to be a burden...”

Luigi's heart shrinks in his chest.

“You're not!” he assures her, running his thumbs over her cheeks and pressing his forehead harder against hers. “Daisy, you're my girlfriend and I... I adore you.”

His confession causes Daisy's eyelids to flutter open, and Luigi pulls away from her so he can look into her eyes. He finds them shimmering with tears about to be shed, and though he, too, feels shaken and broken inside, he tries hard to smile. His knees hurt, but he pays them no heed.

“Daisy, being your boyfriend has helped me grow as a person,” he says, opening his heart completely to her. “You've made me love myself more and feel braver and more confident. You’ve been there for me when I needed you, you’ve never let me down, you’ve always supported me... Daisy,” he adds, looking at her intensely, “you’ve made my life so much better.”

And yet he’s been so blind... His beautiful flower, so lonely and isolated from everyone, like a mermaid spat out by the sea who suddenly finds herself lying on the sand, not knowing what to do or who to turn to....

It breaks his soul just to imagine it.

“I love you very much,” he continues, piercing her with his gaze, “and I’d give anything to have been able to spare you all this suffering and to find a way for you to see us more often without having to give up your home. Never, do you hear me? You could never be a burden, Daisy, because I want everything with you. The good and the bad. The joys and the sorrows. The moments of fun and the moments of crying in each other's arms. Sharing our jokes and wiping away each other’s tears. You” he emphasizes, sliding a hand down her face to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, “are everything to me. Everything,” he insists, “and I will always be here for you, no matter what.”

Luigi concludes his speech by leaning down to place a kiss on Daisy's cheek, which he finds wet and salty, but he doesn't care. He himself has also burst into tears at some point while speaking, though now he can only smile. He feels as if his heart is glowing in his chest, glistening and full of all the love he feels for his princess. She just looks at him for a few moments, her face the spitting image of surprise, her tanned cheeks drenched, until, with a gasp, she throws herself at him and hides her head in his chest.

And Luigi takes her in his arms once again and offers her comfort and protection.

This time, Daisy cries in a calm manner. Her sobs are not so desperate, and her voice does not sound so heartbroken, although Luigi feels her clinging to him with even more energy, as if for nothing in the world she’d want to be separated from him. The plumber squeezes her in his arms with all his might and begins to sing in her ear the Italian lullaby with which his grandmother used to rock him and Mario as babies, and which Daisy has come to adore with all her soul. He intones the melody in a soft whisper as, again, he slides his hand up and down his princess' beautiful hair, and his heart dances as he notices that Daisy's crying, slowly but surely, almost at the same pace as the soft cadence of the lullaby, simmers down.

Neither of them moves, however. They remain in each other's arms, eyes closed, and Luigi feels Daisy's hand beginning to move down his back as well, drawing random scribbles with her fingers. He can't help but smile, a pleasant warmth filling his chest, and he then begins to fiddle with his Fiore's auburn locks, as soft as silk and as radiant as an autumn forest. When he gently clasps Daisy's body in his arms, she returns the squeeze without hesitation.

Relieved to see that she’s feeling better, more serene and relaxed, lying against him quietly and enjoying his company, Luigi sits down on the floor to give his knees a rest as he thinks again about why she broke down crying in the first place. There has to be something he can do to help her, to fix her situation even a little bit. What if...?

“You know what I'm thinking of?” he starts to say as an idea forms in his mind. “Maybe next time I come to see you I'll bring Mario and Peach with me.”

“Really?” Luigi can almost touch the excitement in Daisy's voice as, without turning away from him, she replies, “And will you and Peach bake a cake again?”

Luigi lets out a giggle, amused.

“Just for you, Fiore,” he promises, and adds: “We could organize a picnic in the gardens of your castle.”

“Well...” Daisy doesn't sound as convinced as he expected. “It's not a bad idea, but you know that this area of Sarasaland is not a very green place. It might be too hot.”

“Hm.” Luigi purses his lips thoughtfully. Daisy is right. “Then...” he says, slowly, and snaps his fingers as soon as a better idea comes to his mind, “How about a party inside your castle? It would be the perfect setting for one of our turn-based games!”

“That...” Daisy replies quietly, weighing it, and unhurriedly sits up to look him in the face. Her eyes sparkle with enthusiasm. “That would be great!” she exclaims, her voice turning into a high-pitched squeal, and she grabs him by the shoulders as she shakes him vigorously. “Besides, the castle would be full of people! Because of course,” she adds, putting one hand to her chest and raising the other with her index finger outstretched, “you'd all be more than welcome to stay over for several days.”

Luigi laughs heartily, thrilled to see that his girlfriend's effusiveness, which he missed so much, has returned stronger than ever.

“Are you sure that’s an invitation and not an obligation?” he replies jokingly.

“I can always make it a law,” Daisy resolves, putting her hands on her hips.

Her answer, as it usually happens, makes Luigi laugh. How he loves to see his beloved princess teasing again. Feeling incredibly giggly and relieved, he reaches for her hands and eagerly shakes them.

“I bet they'll all be more than delighted to stay.”

“Are you sure?” Despite her poise, Daisy hesitates, “They've never stayed here before... They might not like Sarasaland, and besides, the one who understands diplomacy is Peach...”

“And she will gladly help you,” Luigi assures her. “She, Mario, me and all the others will help you with everything you need! And by the way, I'm sure they'll love Sarasaland. It's a very beautiful land. Just like you.”

He taps her tiny nose gently and Daisy lets out a giggle and puts a hand to her mouth rather coquettishly, her cheeks a bit flushed.

“If you continue telling me that, I’ll end up believing it,” she says playfully, and nudges him gently on the shoulder. “Love has clearly clouded your judgment.”

“Not at all, Fiore,” he replies, placing his hands on her hips. “I'm just stating the facts. You should believe it, 'cause it's the truth.”

They stare at each other in rapture for a few seconds, Daisy's hands on Luigi's shoulders. She strokes his cheek with one finger as she tangles the other in his chocolate-colored curls. Luigi realizes that he’s fallen under the spell of his princess' eyes, now, at last, as full of life and wit as he remembered them. And just as beautiful and deep as ever.

“You know what I think?” Daisy then says, moving a little away from him, and Luigi blinks to snap out of her enchantment. “I’m sure Peach would definitely melt if your brother said something like that to her.”

“Of course,” Luigi nods, convinced.

He's very tempted to point out that she's melted too, and that it only makes him melt even more in love with her, but Daisy continues speaking before he has a chance to form the words in his mouth.

“Do you think that, at this party, your brother and Peach will finally... do something to confess their obvious feelings for each other?” asks the princess, curiosity shining in her face.

Luigi is unable to contain the snort that comes from deep within his lungs.

“Honestly? I doubt it very much,” he answers without hesitation. “I've lost count of the times I've tried to get those two together, and there's been no way. It's surprising how blind they are when it's so obvious to everyone that they adore each other!”

Daisy lets out a giggle.

“It really is surprising, isn't it?” she says. “That they can't see how much they want each other.”

“Indeed.” Luigi nods convincingly.

“Maybe it would take another one of your delicious cakes for Mario to finally realize it,” Daisy suggests casually, giving him a meaningful look.

Luigi knows very well what those words hide, as well as the mischievous expression on his girlfriend's face. He loves to see her like that, of course, but, although his mind starts to imagine delicious cakes with which Peach could surprise Mario and from which, of course, Daisy would unhesitatingly steal a piece, he prefers to keep his idea for the future... for the time being.

“And how could we make Peach open her eyes too?” he asks instead.

This may be a game between him and Daisy that he's dying to keep playing, but Luigi genuinely wants to help his friend and his brother, and he knows Daisy does too. The feeling of hanging out with the person you've been in love with for so long, of being able to touch and kiss and hold them in your arms freely, is absolutely wonderful, heavenly even. And he sincerely wishes that Mario and Peach could experience it in each other's arms.

“Hmm...” Daisy puts a finger to her lips, thoughtfully. “Maybe with a nice bouquet of her favorite flowers? You and I could help them with that.”

She winks at him knowingly and Luigi laughs, his heart fluttering in his chest, light as a butterfly.

“Yes... It could work,” he admits, really liking the idea.

“Heh!” Daisy gives a proud smile, showing all her teeth. “Looks like I’ll have to take action in the end so that these two end up together. Maybe my ideas aren’t that bad after all!”

She places a finger on his shoulder in an accusatory manner, which, coupled with the way her tone of voice has risen as she spoke, gets another laugh out of Luigi.

“No offense, Fiore,” he says humorously, gently taking her hand, “but your ideas are usually pretty... crazy.”

“Crazy?” Daisy repeats, holding a hand to her chest with horror painted on her face. The way she pretends to be tremendously offended is so comical that Luigi snorts. “Need I remind you that you’re talking to a princess, sir?”

Immediately, Luigi has to force himself to hold back his laughter and tries his best to compose a serious and grave expression. He places his arm on his stomach, closes his eyes and slightly bends his upper body, which is not easy considering that he’s still sitting on the floor.

“My apologies, Your Highness,” he pronounces as solemnly as he can.

This time it is Daisy who lets out a snort, much louder than the one he emitted seconds before.

“Oh, you think you're funny, huh?”

Before Luigi even has time to sit up again, he feels that Daisy lets go of his hand and takes it and the other one to his belly, where she begins tickling him with all her energy. Luigi starts laughing hysterically before his brain even manages to register what’s happening, and his thunderous laughter mixes with Daisy's, which is no less loud. Squirming from the tickling and trying, unsuccessfully, to grab his girlfriend's hands to stop her, Luigi ends up falling backwards, so that he’s lying on the ground with his Fiore on top of him.

At that moment, luckily, his princess seems to take pity on him and quits the attack. Luigi still hears her laughing as he tries to catch his breath with watery eyes, although, this time, they’re dampened for a very different reason. Opening them, he finds Daisy leaning over him, watching him with a mischievous glint in her eye and biting her lower lip.

She’s so beautiful that he feels a sudden urge to kiss her.

Smiling, still panting, Luigi raises a hand to caress her cheek. Daisy places her hands on either side of his head, and his heart almost leaps out of his chest as he realizes that she’s getting closer and closer.

When they’re very close, their noses almost touching, Luigi feels his girlfriend's fingers beginning to play with his hair once again. The naughty expression remains on her face, and a new giggle escapes her mouth before she finally breaks the distance between them.

The passion with which Daisy presses her lips against his makes Luigi break into a rapt smile before, at last, he can reciprocate her kiss. He does it with delight, as he does every time they kiss, unable to get enough of her taste, and he doesn't separate from her until he feels her laugh warmly against his mouth.

“I love you, Luigi,” Daisy says to him, staring into his eyes.

There it is again: the way she pronounces his name as if it were pure poetry. Her eyes still sparkle playfully, but her voice sounds firm and confident, with no trace of mockery. Luigi gives her the widest of his smiles and, once again, brushes a lock of hair back from her beautiful, beaming face.

“I love you too, Daisy.”

They kiss once more just as eagerly, Daisy still laughing in his mouth, Luigi catching that jovial joy he missed so much. With the same enthusiasm, Daisy sits up and pulls him close as she begins to beg him to please pick up his ukulele and play something for her, and Luigi, always willing to do anything to see her happy, hurries to find his instrument and sits back down in front of her.

He couldn't be happier to be here and now, with his Daisy, his Fiore, enjoying her company and plucking notes on his ukulele to express all the love he feels for her and how important she is in his life. As he sings, however, all that has just happened comes back to him, and Daisy's smiling face, the thrill with which she watches him as he plays for her, fills him with a fierce determination that makes him want to do everything in his power to protect her from harm.

He may not be able to change the situation his Fiore is in. He may not hold the key to making everything better for her. It may be something beyond his control.

But there is something he can do to keep his princess from ever feeling lonely again. Something he can do to be with her and keep her company even when he’s not physically by her side.

He’s going to write her a song.

[derpyy-y]

my kiddos again! been forever since i did a group shot lol

i got a new one named fish (the one with the fish. they/he/she) who isnt REALLY new- i scrapped them back in 2021 but i never stopped thinking about them so 😭 welcome back bud!

friendly reminder mathilde is a camper who is just very tall

if you have oc questions id love to answer!!! :)

[theoldkyokodied]

Uploading all my Tomgreg art at once from the past few week before season 4 hits, who knows in what kind of mental state i'm gonna be once it does :')

[kuromi-hoemie]

hhhh talking about my writing was fun but 30 tags is not enough.. yes i have 3 major influences but i have minor ones too.. it is a lovechild of my favorite things.. writing is so fun and i have no self control or a concept of pacing myself i will sit there for 16 hours and get hit with every status effect but by god does it all just flow out of me. I've always been a music person yes but i also used to write a lot into early adulthood until The Incident™

but i am ready 2 jump back into it. i think comics are a great middle ground between the two mediums so i don't get As into writing bc i kind of started going crazy last time 🫡 i can take a more structured approach to it that forces me to pace myself and think about it differently. i love art.... i love making things i love knowing how to do things i love knowing how to play things i love having so many creative outlets, even if i don't do a lot of them regularly lol. it is enriching 😳 and nice to know that it's always there to come back to when u want.

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

For anyone annoyed by the Tumblr changes, if you're on desktop I would recommend using XKit Rewritten (and New XKit for any other odd changes you'd like to try out, including even older aspects of Tumblr). It's the older version of Rewritten but most of the extensions on it are still supported/do work). I can't guarantee they'll definitely make a fix for it/a direct fix for this particular UI change, but it's possible that they might since they usually make extensions that allow you to essentially revert changes made to the UI. Other various UI extensions (such as old ones from Tumblr's past UIs that the extensions basically just revert you to) may also help fix up your UI.

As you might expect these extensions need to be on to work/revert the appearance of the UI (so if you turn them off you'll revert to the current state of Tumblr), but while they are on you can curate your UI to look how you want it. This goes for both New XKit and XKit Rewritten. I use both and I couldn't live without them lol. You can get some big oldies of Tumblr's, like classic search on Rewritten or the Tweaks extension (full of various UI tweaks) on New XKit (including the old shade of blue Tumblr used a long time ago that I never stopped using!).

Unfortunately I don't know of any solution for mobile if it affects mobile at any point (or if it already has), but whenever you're on desktop, I would definitely recommend both these versions of XKit. I have so many extensions from them that I often don't even realize when there are UI changes (remember how Tumblr added themes for your dashboard? I didn't even notice for the longest time because I've had New XKit on the whole time) because Tumblr's default coding is overwritten by the extensions I have on.

[swaghaver69]

i feel a heavy pressure like someone is sitting on my chest making it so i can’t breathe whenever i think about how every single structure in society and social conditioning makes it so that women have no choice but to inevitably end up with a male and it is pushed so hard as the only possible viable option and it feels choking and inescapable (personal rambling vent in tags)

[anonymusbosch]

.

[infinitethree]

So, Aster is kind of in hell right now.

Daz has, evidently, decided to quadruple down on being a bastard by abusing the fact that Aster is forced to see their future– a future where they’re happily married– to torment him.

Horrifyingly, his torment comes primarily in the form of things that one would consider flirting under any other circumstances.

Pretty much his only reprieve is his time at the Swords and Shields’ training hall. Not even his own goddamned home is sacred, because Daz can just– fucking teleport in, like an asshole!

It does not help that the visions seem to come primarily when he’s around Daz. The more Daz inflicts his presence on Aster, the more he sees of some unknown point in the future where they’re deeply in love.

So basically, on top of the active torment, there’s the fucky surreal mood whiplash of future-Daz clearly enjoying his company…and then current-Daz, who wields his knowledge like a knife to inflict shallow wounds on his psyche.

Thank fuck that he at least doesn’t have to deal with whatever the hell their more intimate time is like. All he’s seen is what seems like the aftermath– but is enough to make it clear that they definitely do get up to…that.

Uhg. The idea makes him vaguely queasy currently, even if future-him seems to enjoy it.

There’s no further information about what led to that shift, unfortunately. At this point, Aster would try to trigger it just to lessen Daz’s wrath.

Sure, he’s not entirely sure he even wants his love. But it’d be infinitely better than the shit he’s currently dealing with.

And, well, if nothing else– he could definitely appreciate that Daz does seem to enjoy both acts of service and gifts.

As far as he can tell, future-him exclusively wears clothes that future-Daz makes for him and mostly eats his cooking– something that he is actually jealous of.

At no point has Aster ever looked at food Daz has made and not been tempted. Even when he knew it was fucked with in some capacity, a little voice in the back of his head told him, but it’ll be so damn good. It’s worth whatever he did, probably.

A few times he’s listened. He regretted it later, sure, but in the moment…

In the moment he had desperately wished Daz wasn’t such a catty asshole towards him and him alone.

Well, now he knows why he was singled out. And even though that reason has been resolved, he’s now the subject of Daz’s actual wrath. Thus, even considering taking a bite of anything Daz has touched is a level of stupidity that Aster isn’t willing to rise to. 

Beyond the clothes and food, though? Future-Daz seems to have given plenty of other gifts and forms of his affection.

It sure as hell seems like they live in a completely redone version of Aster’s house. It’s a hell of a lot bigger with a completely different layout, but those familiar blue and white wisteria trees can be seen through the windows sometimes.

All of that seems nice, sure, but the thing that really piques Aster’s interest is a simple fact that seems to be driven home over and over and over–

Future-Daz is clingy as hell.

He seems to want to be cuddled with more than anything. Aster has even watched as he goes from fully alert to completely conked out just from future-Aster playing with his hair.

It– honestly, as weird as it is to admit to himself?

It was almost cute.

Of course, he’d come back to the present and that feeling was ruined by Daz asking if he saw them in the bedroom again. But for a brief moment, he almost felt a bit of fondness for that asshole.

The Swords and Shields have definitely noticed his bad mood. Thankfully, none of them are willing to pry into his life enough to say anything.

All of them respect him. Even if they joined under the banner of Lee, they ultimately answer to Aster.

Daz’s domain is the Welcome Wagon; Aster’s is the Swords and Shields. Those that want to seriously hone their skills aren’t coddled here– sure, they get guidance and shit.

But if they fuck around, Aster does not hesitate to let them find out.

He only belatedly notices that the gym has gone quiet. A feeling of dread rises up as he turns to look and–

Oh Prime fucking damnit, Daz is here.

His heart sinks as he realizes that instead of his usual outfit, Daz is in something far more suited to actually breaking a sweat.

No, no, no, this absolute fucking sociopath can’t possibly be–

“Aster!” Face lighting up like he’s excited to see him, Daz trots up and looks at him like an excited puppy.

He knows better. This is a viscous tiger who only looks harmless as a defense mechanism.

Daz beams at him and says, “I figured it was, like, kinda time for me to actually get training and stuff! I know I technically don’t have to, but I mean…”

There’s a little giggle. “I kinda do encourage new people to sign up, right? So like, it’s only reasonable to learn about it firsthand!”

The room is dead quiet. Not a single person here believes that Daz is actually capable of keeping up with them, but Aster knows better.

If he so choose, Daz could become the single strongest fighter on the server. He’s probably already better than most people in this room.

Aster would know. Daz is the reason he stopped trying to become Theo 2.0 and became something wholly himself.

That ‘fight’, if you could call it that, had been years ago. It’s still seared into his memory– still a reminder that Daz is very much a physical threat when he so chooses.

He realizes he’s been quiet for too long. “...I don’t know that that’s a good idea.”

Arguing is pointless, he knows. But he can’t not do that– not only does he desperately not want Daz to be here, but everyone knows he’s not exactly fond of the guy.

Meekly letting him join would be suspicious and, more importantly, humiliating.

Daz deflates. “But…I really want to get better. I know I’m not really good enough, but maybe if I can, like– actually be kinda okay, then I won’t have so many nightmares…”

Yep, this is about how he pictured it would go.

There was no possible way for him to wiggle out of having Daz here. As soon as this sociopath decided to expand his torment into Aster’s last safe haven, this was always how this would play out.

He sighs deeply. “...Fine. You’re gonna take the same test as everyone else, though. I’m not giving you special treatment.”

Once again Daz perks up. “Thank you! I don’t expect any special treatment or anything, I can totally handle it!”

That’s exactly what Aster is afraid of.

Fuuuck. He’ll have to fight against this bastard with a huge audience. They’re going to be curious what exactly his skill level is.

Pretty much his only hope is that Daz has played up how helpless he is. Surely he won’t…actually be serious about this, right?

But as they go to the main floor and he lays down the parameters of the test– five minutes of using whatever weapons the testee wants to try and hit Aster, followed by them trying to survive against his retaliation for as long as they can– he’s got a horrible feeling that Daz won’t play even remotely nice.

That feeling is confirmed when he clicks the timer and Daz lunges at him with clear intent.

It’s– horrifyingly, a hell of a lot better than most people present. Aster has to actually put some effort into dodging, though it’s thankfully way less of him getting his ass handed to him than the first time they has a match.

There’s an eerie, blank calm in Daz’s face as he gives no quarter. Not a single second to catch his breath and regroup; just an interminable onslaught that speaks all too clearly of having been heavily trained before.

And like he feared might happen, a memory is shown to him.

Daz, younger and with a look in his eyes that screams he’s hungry to be taught, listens intently to his mentor.

“You can’t just throw everything at your opponent without focus,” Dream tells him. Daz scoffs and retorts, “Worked against you, didn’t it?”

Dream rolls his eyes. “I was holding back a lot, and you know that. Not everyone will show you that same courtesy. If you try to use brute force, you’ll wear yourself out faster. No; the way to really win…is to use your head.”

And then Aster finds his legs being swept out from under him as Daz aims one of his daggers at his throat.

Thankfully, years of muscle memory and fighting against Theo make it easy enough to recover and dodge.

He feels the timer in his pocket go off, and feels a surge of relief. He’s the one who pushes the offense now, forcing Daz to play it more defensively.

But…Daz lasts a while. Hell, he even gets a few nicks in, taking full advantage of Aster’s closeness.

Eventually, though, Aster is still able to slam his axe into him and force him to respawn.

He’s actually breathing a little heavy, after that. Not a lot of people can actually get his blood pumping like that.

…Fuck, did he actually enjoy fighting that bastard?

As he’s trying to sort that feeling out, Daz appears in front of him again– probably having teleported back from his spawn. He smiles sheepishly at Aster and says, “I know I wasn’t really that good, but…was I at least okay?”

This goddamned asshole is going to act like he thinks that level of skill is nothing?

No, actually, it makes perfect sense. If he wants to reconcile his actual skill with his personality, this is probably one of the only paths he can take.

Aster squints at him. He knows he’s supposed to play along, but this still pisses him off. “You thought that was bad?”

“Yeah? Didn’t everyone here do way better? I only gave you some scratches, that’s nothing!”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and resists the urge to deck him. “Who told you that your current level isn’t any good?”

Daz’s face falls a little, and he fidgets with the hem of his shirt. “I mean, uhm…D– Dream did. ‘Cause, I needed to be protected…I was too weak. So I’m not any good, or I wouldn’t have needed protection…”

He’s shown another flash of the past. Daz, the agony of his enchantment searing him from the inside out, sobs as Dream strokes his hair and murmurs, “It’s okay. It’s for your own good. You’ll thank me someday.”

A shudder goes down his spine as he’s sent back to the present. He hates seeing shit about Daz and his former mentor, because he knows that’s some of the things Daz least wants him to see.

“Hasn’t he been proven as a liar by now? You’re fine.”

Daz tilts his head, brow creasing. “...Fine?” “You–” Aster sighs, and admits, “You’ve probably had the best assessment out of anyone. I don’t think you even need training, just confidence.”

He jerks his thumb at the assembled Swords and Shields, who are dead silent with shock that Daz is that good. “I literally don’t think anyone else here can even begin to keep up with you.”

There’s a few quick blinks, like this is news to Daz. “That…can’t be right. I’m not any good.”

“There is literally no reason for me to lie about that.” Aster turns to the group and calls, “Do any of you actually think you can beat him?”

Only a few hands raise, but none confidently. When Aster gives them a stern look, all of them slowly sink back down. Daz’s expression only becomes more confused. “That– what? Then…”

He turns to look at Aster, and there’s a gleam of something awful in his eyes. “Then does that mean the only person I’d really be able to like, spar with is you?”

And now, Aster sees the trap that was laid for him.

There is no actual way for him to escape this. Foisting him off on anyone else would just be unfair to them, and call into question his ability to be fair. He’d probably be accused of running like a coward, too.

Gritting his teeth, Aster concedes, “...Yes.”

Daz lights up with joy. “So, like– we can be sparring buddies?! I can be friends with you, finally?!”

“Fin– what?” “‘Cause, like, I always assumed you didn’t like me much ‘cause I’m bad at fighting! But if I’m actually really good, and we spend time together, we can be friends!”

There’s a moment of hesitation, and Daz stares at him with sudden hesitation. “We…can be friends, right? I’ve always really admired you, but I didn’t wanna bother you without a good reason…that’s why it, uhm, took so long to finally do this. I– I didn’t want to make you waste too much time…”

Now he’s not meeting Aster’s eyes. He rambles, “I, uhm, I told Raine a bit about– a bit about some of…some of my past. And he encouraged me to come here, said it’d be good for me…”

Not for a single second does Aster actually believe that.

“Since if I’m, like, actually strong, maybe I can– can stop being so scared from my nightmares.”

When Aster doesn’t respond, Daz’s face crumbles and he hangs his head. “I– I’m sorry, that was dumb of me. I– I shouldn’t have come here, this was a bad idea–”

It’s only when Daz starts to turn away, voice cracking as if he’s actually going to cry, that Aster unfreezes enough to grab his wrist.

“I’m not going to promise you friendship, but I’m not going to be an asshole either. You’re still a member of the group…and a good one, at that. You’re probably the root reason why nearly everyone in the Swords and Shields joined.”

Daz mumbles, “But you don’t like me.” “I–”

He sighs, hating that he has to play nice with this goddamned bastard like this. “It’s not because of you. You’ve got your trauma, I’ve got mine.”

Once again, he’s shown a vision.

Thank fucking Prime though, this time it’s the future.

Despite that, though, it seems like this might be the earliest time he’s seen so far. They’re in the Council HQ, with future-Daz openly glaring at him.

Future-Aster hums, “I know how you think. And I know that even if you are interested, you’ll ignore or repress it rather than act on it. That’s why the only way I can be sure that you truly don’t want it is to force your hand.” “That’s– you can’t just– just–!”

“I can, actually. Don’t you know me well enough by now to know that if I decide to do something, no force on heaven or earth can stop me?”

A soft chuckle escapes from future-Aster as he adds, “My next step is to start getting even more obvious with it. I’ll pull a dozen pages from your playbook, make it so that your refusal makes you into a massive asshole. I don’t even need to act all that much for it.”

Future-Daz seethes, “You can’t threaten me into dating you.” “Once again…I’m pretty sure I can, actually.”

…What?

So, wait– they get together, and get married…all of that is because he blackmails Daz?

But they seemed happy. Even in quiet moments that they’re alone, Future-Daz seems deeply in love with him. Surely that’s…not fake, right?

He’s left reeling as he’s sent back to the present.

How the actual hell is that–

Wait.

If Daz would never be willing to even try it without that big of a push…and assuming that he does actually end up happy…

Is it actually that awful?

Sure, it’s definitely not great, ethically. Aster would rather die than force him to do anything too crazy, too, but…

What if it’s just dating? Being, like– romantic and shit in public? Going on actual dates and that kind of thing.

…He kind of feels like a scumbag for even considering it. But he also can’t help but be faced with the fact that future-him clearly knows something. He spoke with absolute confidence that Daz would ignore any actual interest in favor of ignoring and repressing it.

And more than that, they seemed so damn happy together. Sure, it could be fake, but–

If that were the case, future-Daz was doing a flawless job of acting at all times. He was clingy and sweet, doing things that he clearly put a lot of meaning behind.

Shit– Aster has noticed that they both had obvious claims! A bracelet for him, a necklace/brooch thing for Daz.

Maybe….

Maybe this is what he’s supposed to do.

He sees a hand being waved in front of his face. “Uhm, Aster? Are you, like…okay? I didn’t trigger anything, right?”

He blinks and realizes he must have been in the present for a little while now. He reaches out and ruffles Daz’s hair, partly out of curiosity and partly as retaliation for all this bullshit.

“You’re fine,” he huffs, as the bastard squeaks. He seems at a loss of words for once, but Aster can’t help but notice…

He’s leaning into it a bit.

…Holy shit, is future-Daz so clingy because this Daz is touch starved?

As an experiment, he puts an arm over his shoulder in what he hopes seems friendly to everyone else, and steers him towards his office. “Let’s go figure out what days you’re actually able to come in. I know the Welcome Wagon takes up a lot of time…probably your admin training too, right?”

Daz nods, still seeming speechless and more than a little awkward as they make their way there.

[ink4spots]

Brewing an alt timeline w Ryoma in the Rohan live action

[wereh0gz]

I've been thinking abt opening comms soon and how to do it. I'll be old enough for a paypal soon so I might be able to open them by june or july. I've also seen ppl use ko-fi but idk how that one works so I'll have to look into it more