#noah is much younger than i remembered

[mire022]

I vaguely remembered yoojin treating yerim, yoohyun and noah like kids, but i failed to see how much it was

"They are at that age that they want to look mature..." ; "I wouldnt want them to be near a corpse. They are still kids!" ; "ah there is food on your cheek let me clean it up"

I love how yoojin sometimes thinks he is being condescending but the 'kids' like his coddling

[familiarscars]

Drive You Insane | Noah Sebastian 02

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Noah Sebastian X psychiatrist!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. A mysterious new patient arrives at the Grimshade sanatorium and you have been tasked with taking care of his case.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). disturbing environment, violence, unconventional treatments, manipulation, questionable relationships, explicit sex and profanity.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

"How are things over there?" Your mother’s cheerful voice echoed from the other end of the line, and you gripped the phone tighter.

By your estimate, you had only ten minutes left on your phone card, and she was known for talking without taking a breath.

“Why didn’t you call me earlier? I was worried!”

“Uh… yeah… everything’s fine, really.” You answered, biting your lower lip as you noticed the sky beginning to darken.

If it rained, you’d be in trouble on the long walk back to the sanatorium. Like the considerate coworker he was, Dr. Rune didn’t even bother offering to accompany you.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I didn’t call earlier because the signal’s bad here. I have to come all the way to town to use the phone, but there’s nothing to worry about, Mom. Everything’s fine, I promise!” You were never the type to struggle with lying, and your mother was easy to convince.

“I heard on TV that that rich murderer who killed his girlfriend is there. Is that true?”

The mention of Noah made your throat go dry. Your heart was still racing from the restless dream you’d had the night before.

“Yes, it’s true, Mom. It looks like I’ll be assigned to take care of him.”

“Aunt Becky says he’s handsome.” She chuckled—a raspy, broken sound, the product of years of smoking. “But the devil was handsome too, wasn’t he?”

The devil was handsome too...

“If there’s a chance to pass this case on to someone else, I’d prefer it. You just graduated, and handling something like this could be tough. And…”

“Mom, I’ve got to go now…” You cut her off before the speech started sounding too much like Dr. Rune’s. “We’ll talk in two days.”

“But…”

“Kisses! Love you!”

You slammed the receiver down with a bit more force than necessary. The store clerk gave you a stern look, and, to make up for it, you bought a few items you might need in the coming days: toiletries, extra socks, water, and cleaning supplies for your room.

Your day’s agenda was full. Two patients to see before the afternoon, when you’d have your first session with Noah. The previous night had been long, spent analyzing every detail of his case, searching for the best approach to start a conversation with someone who hadn’t spoken a single word in so long.

On the way back to the sanatorium, your mind was a whirlwind. Staring out the window, you couldn’t shake thoughts of the dream. It was disturbing how real it had felt: his touch tracing your body, the shadow his height cast around you, the physical discomfort that blurred the line between imagination and reality. Even now, in the back seat of the car, your body reacted involuntarily, legs tensing. As hard as it was, you had to push those clouds from your senses before it became impossible to face him directly.

At lunch, you picked up a tray of pasta, meatballs, juice, and an apple, determinedly walking past the chatter of other staff members you hadn’t met yet. Notebook tucked under your arm, you were ready to spend the meal studying.

Your first patient of the day, after returning from town, was a teenage girl accused of killing her own brother. Madeleine Skelter, fifteen, had been sentenced to a sanatorium due to her unstable mental state during the trial. She lost her mother at ten, and not long after, her father remarried. Madeleine gained a younger brother, but as time passed, strange events plagued the family. The boy was often injured, and the wounds worsened each week.

The family, desperate for answers, fired staff and grew suspicious of friends before the blame finally fell on the stepmother, who was diagnosed with postpartum depression.

Cracks formed like fragile glass in their home. When Madeleine was caught smothering her brother with a pillow, she was ready to frame her stepmother so she could have her father to herself. She’d admitted her plan: to remove everyone in her father’s life until it was just the two of them—"happy" at last.

She played the role of his wife, cooked for him, washed his clothes, and obsessed over appearing adult, despite his clear rejection of her behavior.

Madeleine showed no remorse, only weeping over her father, who had erased her existence from his life. He and his wife moved abroad and started anew.

Narcissistic and arrogant, she nearly drained your social battery in 45 minutes.

“Hey!” A familiar voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked up, setting your pen down and leaving the apple on your plate. Dr. Rune, all smiles, waved as he approached. You quickly adjusted your posture and tucked your hair behind your ear.

“Hello!”

“Eating alone? Oh no! Come on, sit with us at my table. I’ll introduce you to some friends!”

Deeply uncomfortable with his insistence, you reluctantly stood, gathering your things as he helped carry what he could. Together, you walked to the table.

“Everyone, this is the new psychiatrist at Hidden I told you about!” Travis introduced you, and the three people at the table smiled warmly, urging you to sit. “These are Jake, Sloan, and Charlote.”

“Welcome!” they all said in unison, and you smiled your thanks.

“So, you’re the one handling the handsome psychopath?” The youngest woman, dressed in a green nurse’s uniform, leaned in, her eyes narrowing. “Your hair smells nice.”

“Sloan, don’t scare her!” Travis scolded. “It’s bad enough she has to sleep on that information.”

Maybe Travis was annoying.

Or maybe not—he was annoying.

“Actually, I slept perfectly well with that information, Dr. Rune,” you said calmly, finishing the last bite of apple. “This place is full of killers. Noah isn’t that special. Maybe you’re the one a bit too excited.”

He blushed instantly as the others laughed.

“She’s right,” said Charlote Walker, her name embroidered on her coat. “He’s not the first famous nutcase we’ve dealt with.”

“Sure, he’s not that important,” Travis added, “but I like to remind the newbies not to get their hopes up. When we graduate, we think we can save the world. Unlike our other patients, this one won’t last long before they fry him in the chair.”

An awkward silence fell as everyone processed his words. All eyes turned to him as he nonchalantly scraped the last bit of grape jelly from his cup. His pristine white coat contrasted with the partially unbuttoned dress shirt underneath, revealing a glimpse of toned muscle.

"Then I’ll volunteer to be the last bitch he sleeps with." Charlote sneered to break the tense atmosphere, and everyone laughed. You didn’t find it funny at all but forced a laugh to blend in.

"Tonight, we’re having a little party just for the staff at the tavern, to take a break from this hellhole. We expect you there!" Sloan insisted, pulling a pen from her uniform pocket and grabbing your notebook to jot down an address and a phone number.

You loved parties, but you had no idea this kind of thing happened here, and you weren’t prepared for it. You hadn’t brought any clothes, no heels, and you suddenly felt so bare that embarrassment took over.

"We don’t take no for an answer if you even think about trying!" she warned, placing the notebook back in its place.

"I’ll think about it…" You nodded, pressing your lips together.

The conversation at the table was lively. Everyone, including Travis, talked excitedly about the much-anticipated party and how they desperately needed an escape valve to release the accumulated tension. You wanted to join in, to immerse yourself in the buzz of excitement, but your eyes remained glued to the clock on the wall. With each passing tick of the hands, the voices around you seemed to drift further away, becoming a distant echo. Your hands began to sweat, a persistent reminder that his arrival was drawing near.

Your office was modest, containing only the bare essentials: a desk and two chairs — one for you, one for the patient. You had taken care to remove anything that could attract his attention or pose any kind of risk. On the desk sat only a notebook, a bottle of water, and a pen — simple, safe items. The air carried a faint hint of lavender from the room spray you had purchased in town. It was a subtle fragrance you liked — present without being overpowering.

When you glanced at your wristwatch, exactly 4:00 p.m., a sharp metallic sound echoed from outside. The door was shoved open with force, and a guard pushed the man, shackled hand and foot, into the room. Noah wore a sleeveless shirt that revealed his tattooed arms. Despite his clean appearance — his hair slicked back and still damp from a shower — he scanned the room with an indifferent gaze, visibly bothered by the scent lingering in the air.

Then, his eyes landed on you.

He drew in a deep breath and stepped backward, a reaction you hadn’t anticipated. For a moment, confusion flickered within you until you realized Noah was trying to retreat toward the guard, as if seeking escape. You frowned and instinctively checked your reflection in your phone’s screen, discreetly sniffing your underarms. Was there something wrong with you?

"None of that!" The guard shoved him firmly into the room, forcing him to remain still.

"Thank you, sir," you said as you observed Noah’s shoulders tense. "We’ll see you in forty minutes when the session ends."

"I can’t leave you alone with him," the guard protested.

"I doubt your presence will make him feel comfortable. I’ll take full responsibility," you replied with conviction. Reluctantly, the guard sighed and closed the door behind him. "Now there’s nowhere to run. Just you and me."

Slowly, Noah turned, casting furtive glances your way. His face was a mask of disdain. He seemed to survey every inch of the room as if enveloped in filth or surrounded by a foul stench. His expression, haughty and nearly intolerable, remained as he dropped into the chair across from you with a show of complete disregard.

"Well, it’s only fair to start at the beginning, right? Noah, I’m Dr. —"

He let out a sigh of boredom, rolling his eyes. The soft light from the window cast shadows on the intricate tattoos that adorned his neck, each design hinting at stories hidden beneath his skin.

"I’m genuinely willing to treat you like a human being, okay?" you said firmly, slicing through the uncomfortable silence he cultivated. The irritation inside you grew, fueled by the way he examined the room with contempt, as if he were superior to everything and everyone around him. "That’s already quite different from how my colleagues see you. To them, you’re just patient 268!"

Your eyes locked on his, trying to pierce the wall of apathy he had erected.

"If you’re not interested in being treated that way, I can adjust my approach," you continued, your tone blunt and unwavering. "That doesn’t bother me. But I much prefer respecting people, regardless of who they are!"

A faint twitch at the corner of his mouth hinted at a reaction, but he simply stared at you with that same defiant gaze.

"We’ll take it slow. It’s up to you whether you speak or remain silent, but I’ll still be here doing my job, even if it’s just sitting quietly with you." You spoke calmly, keeping your tone composed. "Can you tell me how you’re feeling today?"

Nothing. Not a single response. He remained as still as a statue, though far from lifeless. It was the way he held himself that unsettled you — a predator behind a mask of indifference.

You paused, then tried again.

"What do you remember from the night you were found?"

His eyes sharpened, locking onto you. There was no emotion, but a sharp, undeniable presence seemed to tighten the air between you. He didn’t answer, but the slightest lift at the corner of his mouth betrayed a sardonic smile — anything but kind.

Heat crept up your neck as you felt yourself under his dissecting gaze rather than the other way around. His eyes roamed over your fingers gripping the pen, the rhythm of your breath, the way your legs crossed. His attention was so intense that it set your pulse racing, a reaction you struggled to mask as you shifted in your chair.

"Noah." Your voice was steady, but your skin burned with a growing tension. "Are you really not going to tell me how you feel? About what happened that night?"

Silence. His smile remained, smug and unkind.

Leaning forward, you caught a trace of his scent — metallic, sharp, clean. Threatening in its subtlety, much like the man himself.

"Did she mean anything to you?" Your words sliced through the thickening air. "Did you love her?"

His smile didn’t waver. But his eyes… they shifted — a flicker of recognition. Love stirred something within him, though what exactly, you couldn’t tell.

The weight of expectation hung heavy between you. The tension stretched thin, a thread about to snap.

"And anger?" Your voice softened, almost a whisper. "Did you hate her? For what she did to you? For how she made you feel?"

Nothing again. Just silence. But the measured way he breathed — slower, deeper — gave away the internal battle.

Noah remained a statue of control, but his hands betrayed a subtle shift. His fingers flexed against the chair’s armrest, as though suppressing the urge to crush something — or someone.

You caught every movement. The whitening of his knuckles. The tightening of his jaw beneath that treacherous smirk. He was playing a dangerous game. But you weren’t about to back down.

It was time to change the rules.

"You like testing limits, don’t you?" you tilted your head, keeping your voice neutral. "You know, staring at me won’t give me answers. Words will."

His smile widened a little more, but he remained silent.

Switching tactics, you opened a folder beside you and pulled out a faded photograph, sliding it across the table. The image depicted a family in a Victorian mansion—parents formally dressed, children posed as if part of a meticulously staged play. Noah’s face was younger, but the intensity in his eyes was the same.

"This is your family," you said, your tone almost casual. "What was it like growing up as the heir to Blackridge Island?"

The smile vanished. The change was swift, a transformation that made your skin prickle. His jaw tightened slightly, his gaze flicking to the photo as though it burned him. For the first time, you saw something different in his expression.

The silence thickened, becoming almost tangible. Without the smile, Noah shifted from a predator in check to a raw, visceral presence. The weight of his stare was now a blade, slicing slowly through the professional armor you’d carefully constructed.

"Families have power, don’t they?" His voice was low, almost confessional, as he leaned slightly forward. "They shape, bind, and sometimes… break."

The tension in his jaw became more pronounced, muscles clenching with barely contained restraint. His eyes, once cold and calculating, seemed caught in a dark, inescapable past. Yet, he remained silent.

Frustration, mingled with something you refused to name, tightened your chest. He was so close—like a storm ready to break—and yet, unreachable. His energy vibrated through the air, an electric current affecting you more than it should.

Your fingers lightly touched the edge of the photo on the table.

"What do you see when you look at them?" The question came as a challenge. "Guilt? Hatred? Or do you miss them?"

Still, no response.

When Noah finally tore his eyes from the photograph, his gaze landed back on you with renewed intensity. He wasn’t distant anymore. A shift had occurred.

The way he looked at you now was deliberate, methodical, as though peeling away each layer of your defenses. His eyes weren’t just cold—they were precise. They roamed your face, trailed down your neck, and observed the way you bit your lower lip, trying to mask your growing discomfort.

Your body reacted before you could stop it, vivid fragments of last night’s dream flashing unbidden through your mind. A sharp heat traveled down your spine—not fear, but something far deeper and infinitely less welcome.

You crossed your legs as if the gesture could shield the vulnerability he had begun to uncover.

"Anything else you’d like to share, Noah?" You forced a professional tone, struggling to regain control.

He tilted his head slowly, like a predator studying prey. Still silent. The smile was gone for good, but his gaze wielded more power than words ever could.

Then, a small, almost hypnotic gesture: his thumb grazed his jawline, a deliberate, slow movement, as his eyes remained fixed on yours.

The room seemed smaller. The air, heavier. Your breath shortened. He wasn’t just looking. He was unraveling you.

You tried to focus on your notepad, but your hand faltered for a split second.

"Very well, Noah," you said, aiming for finality but sounding far too fragile. "That’s all for today. In honor of your silence, I’ll match it until the session ends."

He didn’t blink. He didn’t move. He stayed there—an immovable shadow, a living mirror reflecting truths you didn’t want to confront. Your fingers trembled slightly as you gathered the folder.

After what felt like hours of an unspoken battle, the guard stormed into the room, his brusque manner shattering the tension and drawing Noah’s attention. Forty minutes of unwavering focus, those uniquely brown eyes never leaving yours, came to an abrupt end. As he was led away, he glanced back once more. The knot in your stomach tightened painfully.

You were lucky.

You were very lucky.

No, it wasn’t luck. It was your meddling mother, who had insisted on slipping a dress into your suitcase, saying you needed to be prepared for anything. The red fabric hugged your body, the deep neckline accentuating your curves, and thin straps framing your shoulders. Its rich hue contrasted with your dark lipstick and smoky eyes. Waves in your hair, heels that weren’t too high.

Not bad.

You hadn’t intended to stay long at the tavern. These people were strangers, after all, and you barely knew them. But it would suffice for a night of socializing.

Sloan walked with you, laughing at the difficulty of navigating gravel paths in heels. The tavern lay hidden within the woods—a place where shadows and secrets thrived.

The tavern exuded a rugged nostalgia, a place the years had worn down but could never truly erase. The low ceiling, with dark wooden beams, loomed heavily overhead. Lanterns cast flickering shadows on walls adorned with faded photographs of Grimshade’s founders, broken bottles’ scars from forgotten nights, and a glass-eyed stag staring into nothingness. The air smelled of spilled beer, smoke, and the syrupy sweetness of warm cider.

Your friends were already tipsy, and a server handed you your first drink. The first sip burned like gunpowder down your throat but left a lingering sweetness.

The floor creaked beneath your feet as you moved, feeling the violin’s pulse guiding the clumsy dance steps of drunken revelers. At the bar, glasses clinked, calloused hands gestured wildly, telling stories taller than truth.

In the corner, Travis caught your eye immediately. He looked different—freed from the confines of the asylum’s sterile environment. Dark jeans, a light shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing strong forearms. His smile came before his words.

"You look… stunning." His voice was soft, almost swallowed by the music.

You smiled, heat blooming in your cheeks, but kept your tone light.

"And you’re wearing something other than a uniform. Impressive." You hesitated, trying not to admit how attractive he looked.

He laughed, a sound that rumbled deep in his chest, as natural as breathing. Before you could pull back, he offered his hand.

"Shall we dance?"

You hesitated. But when your fingers touched his—warm and sure—the music made refusal impossible.

Your steps were tentative at first, but familiarity grew quickly. Travis held your hand firmly, guiding your movements with effortless ease. The lively rhythm swept you both along with the crowd, but it wasn’t the sound that stole your breath—it was the way he looked at you, with a fascination so palpable that it made you wonder if the alcohol was already bubbling in your veins.

No. No. No.

You couldn’t be hallucinating about another man at a moment like this. Shaking your head gently, you banished the thought, focusing instead on the dance and the alcohol’s numbing embrace.

Much later, as the night cooled, he walked you home. The moon hung low, and laughter echoed faintly in the distance, carried by the soft breeze.

"I wanted to apologize for how I’ve acted since you arrived…" He began, his voice tinged with awkwardness. Without his glasses, his casual demeanor and clear eyes stood out, glowing silver in the moonlight.

"There’s no need to apologize."

"This job… it means a lot to me, and I’ve been overprotective ever since I became head psychiatrist," he admitted. "A ridiculous trait for someone so obsessed with perfection."

"I don’t think it’s ridiculous… Obsession usually stems from something deeper."

"Are you analyzing me, doctor?" His eyes narrowed playfully as he spun you around, wringing a laugh from your lips.

"There’s a lot of pressure for someone your age. I understand more than you might think."

"My father didn’t believe I’d amount to much, and he thought moving to Grimshade was a mistake," Travis paused, the memory darkening his expression. "He said I was wasting my degree."

"Well, he must be disappointed because you’ve become an excellent doctor, Dr. Rune." You winked, and he smiled shyly.

At the door of the bedroom, Travis stopped. For a moment, you both simply stood there, breaths mingling in the cool air. He seemed even more irresistible with his golden hair damp from sweat and his shirt unbuttoned, revealing his chest. You bit your lower lip as you noticed him watching you too — his gaze fixed on your neckline.

Then, tired of waiting, while your body burned with his nearness, you closed the distance and kissed him.

It was a kiss without space for hesitation or second-guessing. Intense. The taste of alcohol made the softness of his tongue even sweeter. He pulled you by the waist, your back lightly hitting the door as your lips devoured his, urgent and hungry.

The heat of his body pressed against yours was a spark, igniting every sense. Your fingers tangled in his hair, kisses becoming messier, deeper. You stumbled together inside, bodies entwined, the door slamming shut behind you and drowning out the rest of the world.

You pushed him onto the bed, confusion and desire flickering across his face before he surrendered. Straddling his lap, his hands grasped your hips, guiding you closer until your noses touched, a deliberate, tantalizing graze. His grip tightened on your hips, drawing you against his growing arousal as your fingers clutched his nape, your breaths mingling, igniting another fierce kiss.

Your hands buried in his hair, pulling gently as you savored his lips, your tongues tangled. The earlier tension dissolved, now knotted into a feverish desire binding your bodies together. You pressed against him, unbuttoning his shirt with urgency before tossing your own dress aside. His palm cupped your breast over your bra, and his hardness throbbed beneath his pants, teased by the slow roll of your hips.

A chill coiled in your stomach as the kiss deepened, a nagging feeling like a mistake — or worse — something you’d never felt before. You forced the thought away, focusing on the taste of his lips, gripping his neck and sighing when his fingers trailed from your thighs to your chest, a delicate, maddening caress.

Then a jolt struck you. Your eyes snapped open mid-kiss. There, outside the window, perched on a tree branch, a dark figure watched you both. Its expression was unreadable, moonlight illuminating only the edge of a long, lean silhouette, cloaked in black with fists clenched on its thighs — a silent, seething witness.

It was him.

Before you, as if conjured by some cruel magic, the golden strands between your fingers darkened, the musky scent of cologne shifted, and your hands roamed patterns on pale skin. You blinked, but the illusion remained — Noah, not Travis, was touching you, stripping you, and the pulse of his hardness against you made you gasp, slick with a memory too vivid to be dismissed.

A wicked smirk curved phantom lips. Teeth too perfect, too familiar, played tricks on your mind. You surrendered to your delusion, consumed by the fire he brought with him.

Grinding your wet heat against the rigid length beneath you, craving him inside for the first time, you freed him from his pants, rolled on a condom from the nightstand, and sank down all at once. A moan escaped your lips, loud, unrestrained. Eyes squeezed shut, you tilted your head back, moving with slow, rolling hips that matched his hoarse groan.

"Oh, my God," he rasped, breath hitching as his mouth trailed down your chest, teasing the piercing at your nipple.

You ignored him, lost in sordid thoughts.

You glanced back to the window. The shadow hadn’t moved. His head tilted, watching you ride another man, but the truth scorched your soul — it was him you wanted beneath you.

Pleasure tightened your chest, the raw thrill of being watched fueling your forbidden lust. Fingers traced your spine as your body arched, the sensation of him swelling deeper within making your moans crack like a roar. You stifled a cry — his name poised on your tongue.

What the hell was happening? You were ignoring the man inside you to provoke the devil outside? And you reveled in it?

Screw it.

It was Noah you craved, and in secret corners of your heart, you let yourself admit it. He was your sin, your destruction, and you yearned to drink deeply of his damnation.

You couldn’t look away from that tree, from his heaving chest, from the rage or the hunger. The climax hit you hard, molten embers bursting within.

As Travis flipped you beneath him, driving deep, your nails clawed the sheets, shutting out the infernal thoughts.

But the second wave of pleasure scorched hotter than before. Together, you shattered into shared groans, your bodies collapsing, breathless and undone.

You stared at the ceiling, biting your lip, his weight beside you. The window was empty now.

And you’d never know if it had been a trick of the mind — or a glimpse of a dark truth you weren’t ready to face.

[sarahivess]

I remember back in September when we all were hearing about Noah having a tough time at college and we all were so worried. I love Noah so much, he reminds me so much of my little brother who’s only a few years younger than him. When I was hearing about everything that was going on I was ready to jump on the first plane to The U.S. just to protect him, I’m not kidding.

And now hearing him talking about it, that he actually had a very hard time in the beginning, to struggle with being closeted and finding real genuine friends that actually cared about him at the same time just breaks my heart.

But it’s such a relief to hear that it got better for him and that he now sees it as a positive and learning experience, and that he’s gotten a lot of growth and development from it.

I’m just so happy for Noah and so proud of him that he didn’t give up even though it was hard. He’s such an inspiration 🥺

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Let's call it Fate | Prologue

(A/N) This has been spinning around in my head for AGES. Glad I can finally write it down. This will probably be a longer series and I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Also, the warnings apply for future parts as well, just so you know what this will be about!

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x Reader (no Y/N)

Warning: google translate translations, abusive parents (especially mother), arranged marriage, age gap, bullying

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

“Darling? Could you join us in the study for a moment?”

Darling? Your mother never called you darling. Or any sort of endearment at all. It’s usually your name. And if you’re in real trouble it’s your last name, although that way it’s sometimes hard to know if she's mad at you or your father.

“One second!”

With your eyebrows pulled together in a frown, you put your book down on your bed and got to your feet. Before leaving your room, you quickly grabbed a sweater, you put on on your way downstairs. All the while your mind was spinning, wondering what your mother wanted and why she acted as if she actually cared about you.

Once you stood in front of the slightly ajar door to the study, you took a deep breath, calming your nerves before you pushed the door open and stepped inside. And suddenly, you felt very underdressed. Your father was wearing a suit, which wasn’t unusual. Your mother’s attire was as fancy as usual, which was something you never understood - wearing ballgowns at home. But then there were the guests.

An older man, sporting an even fancier suit than your father, and a woman wearing a similar dress as your mother. And a younger man. He too, was wearing a suit, looking as if he had just jumped out of a movie from the 1950s. But you recognized him. The blond combed back hair and the green, glowing eyes.

Noah.

Your families had always been friends, forcing you to spend a lot of time with Noah when you were a child. But you never liked him. He was arrogant because his family was rich, only thinking of himself and acting as if he was the best. The moment you could decide whether you wanted to spend time with him or not, you decided against it and hid in your room, finding company in your books.

“Oh honey, there you are!”

Your mother jumped to her feet and rushed to your side, pulling you into a hug.

“Ugh, you’re sweaty. Just got done working out, right? That’s why you’re wearing these clothes.”

It was a blatant lie, but you knew better than to correct her. So, instead, you just smiled and nodded along as she pulled you further inside the room.

“Now, you surely remember Warrens? And Noah, your best friend.”

Your smile turned into a grimace before you could stop it. Best friend? As if. But you quickly fixed it back into a pleasant smile and raised your hand towards Mister Warren.

“Of course. It’s good to see you again Mister Warren, Misses Warren, Noah.”

They shook your hands, fake smiles plastered onto their faces. Once you shook Noah’s hand, you took a step back, risking a glance at your father, who looked unamused, to say the least.

“May I ask what the occasion is?”

Your mother’s eyes started to sparkle once you asked that question. Her hands landed on your shoulder and she spun you so you stood facing Noah.

“Well, we just finished arranging your engagement!”

Engagement? What the hell?

You spun around to look at her, but she quickly tightened her grip on your shoulders and spun you back towards Noah.

“Smile, or you won’t like the consequences.”

The venomous whisper was hidden behind a smile and only reached your ears, so you quickly plastered the smile that was requested onto your face, trying to look as happy as possible.

“You will marry as soon as you get baptized by the church. Before that, you will have to go through training, which is starting in a few days. My son will join you in that.”

Mister Warren took a step in your direction, his face serious. His eyes swept over your parents and you, before they stopped on your father.

“We will have to take our leave for now, but we’ll have to start planning the wedding soon.”

Your father nodded, and then the Warrens left, Noah, grinning cruelly at you as he passed you. Once they were gone, you ripped from your mother’s hold, spinning to glare at your parents.

“An arranged marriage? Are you crazy?”

“You will not talk like that to us! Now go back to your room! I will send one of the maids to pack your bags.”

Your mother’s face was red with anger, while your father just looked at the floor. You had never felt this betrayed.

Quick question for future parts: do you prefer translation in the text or at the end of the part? There'll be a lot of Italian in the future and I just want to know what you guys prefer! Let me know if you feel like it!

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[azarisage]

So here’s a snippet of a fic I’m working on! It’s a teen wolf fic that’s kinda a fix it? It’s definitely set after the whole Kanima thing, but Erica and Boyd are alive, Peter’s back from the dead, and Derek’s still Alpha. I’ve been drooling over the idea of What if EVERYONES PARENTS FOUND OUT?????

Like, only the Sheriff and Melissa knew??? Come on! It would be sO much fun to watch them all flip out while Stiles tries to coral a bunch of adults and two Hales into playing nice long enough to solve there freaking problems!!!! Through Chris in the mix? Glorious!

Anyway, I’m calling it Not so False Alarm, and it’s currently a wip on AO3, so we’ll see how this goes🫠

“No!,” Stiles shouted. A growl much like the wolves he spent so vary much of his time around rumbling out of his throat. “None of you are going after anything,” He stated firmly

”I don’t think you quite get it, you are mine. The Pack, is Mine. And no one touch’s what’s Mine without at least losing a hand in return.”

His tone was hard and his gaze was cold and angry, and it was almost frightening to see Stiles, laughing, joking, goofy, always smiling Stiles, with his ice cold murderous gaze turned towards them. Even though they knew he’d never hurt them.

But that was just the thing.

Stiles had called them his. And he would never hurt his people.

But someone, or something, had taken and hurt a rather large amount of his people.

And they were only now beginning to realize that to Stiles?

This kind of offense was absolutely unforgivable.

And the whiskey eyed boy was out for blood.

“Stiles, you just spent the last few hours ranting about how Scott and the other kids could be in immense danger, and you think we, their parents, are just going to sit back and watch you and your Werewolf buddies charge off into the night to go play hero? News flash son, we are the parents, and We will protect our children.” Noah cut in.

The other parents nodded in agreement, adding their own little tid-bits on how they were the adults, they should be the ones to rescue their kids.

But Wendy Martin made the unfortunate mistake of adding in her own comment of, " We, as the adults in this situation, will be able to handle it better."

The two ‘wolves, who stood only just behind Stiles, frowned deeply at this comment.

They themselves were adults, they were Werewolves for goodness sake, and they both could list quite a few times in which Stiles had been able to handle the supernatural far better than themselves. Countless times where, had it not been for Stiles, they would’ve been dead, Werewolf healing or not.

And to hear Stiles’ own father talk with such little faith about their human Pack member? About Stiles? Well that just didn’t sit right with them at all.

“I’m sorry, are you all suddenly forgetting that Stiles is far more familiar with this type of situation than all of you?” Peter huffed.

“He has been dealing with your idiotic children for years now, saving their asses, finding out everything we’ve ever needed to know through Google more often than not, and Lord knows how he manages that! So before you all go assuming things about this situation, how about we ask the guy who’s saved our lives almost a dozen times, half the time on his own.”

Stiles was slightly surprised at Peters animosity on his behalf, but the more he thinks about it, the more he thinks it makes sense. Peter had always hated how the puppies would dismiss his ideas or plans, but he never really got the chance to go off on them because Stiles had always brushed it off, they were a group of teenagers, they were doing their best, but surrounded by human adults? That was another story.

They should at least be listening to the person who had the most information on how to safely go about the situation.

But still….

“I killed you.” He stated coolly, his questioning gaze turned toward the older Hale.

“Yes, by lighting me on fire if I’m remembering correctly, which I am.” He said, giving the younger a sly smile, completely ignoring the startled sounds coming from the adults around the room.

“But don’t worry, you’ve been forgiven, water under the bridge and all that.” He said, giving a dismissive shrug that was far too amused for the situation.

“Oh good, ‘cause I wasn’t gonna apologize anyway.”

“I never expected you to. To be honest I probably would’ve done the same.” He returned with a surprisingly genuine smile despite the topic of conversation.

“Alright, have we finally decided to not do anything stupid?” Stiles asked hopefully.

“Hold on, my son what?” Noah sputtered.

Some of the others began protesting the attempted topic change along with the Sheriff, and Derek sighed.

“Did you really have to bring that up Stiles?”

He was giving the teen his usual Disappointed eyebrows look, and Stiles just groaned.

“What? It’s not like he stayed dead anyway! And besides, that was years ago, we get along much better nowadays, so the chances of it happening again are really vary slim, right Peter!”He turned to give the older Hale his most innocent look, which both had learned long ago was the absolute biggest lie. Stiles could talk circles around most people, and had learned surprisingly quickly how to affectively lie to Werewolves, Stiles was a silver tonged snake when he wanted or needed to be.

“Stiles is right nephew, we’re far less prone to tearing each other apart, we’ve even been known to hold a conversation or two when the mood strikes us. I believe just the other day we had coffee at that one café Stiles likes while we went over that old book of elementals.”

Derek just rolled his eyes at the two of them, while the others were just frozen in shock.

But before anyone else could add even more questions to the pile, Stiles just had to go and make things worse.

“I will say though, getting rid of that bitch was one hell of a final act.”

Before he disappeared up the stares to grab his hidden bag of supernatural supplies, leaving the parents heads spinning, and Derek just shaking his head at the whole situation, Peter laughing madly at his favorite humans ability to cause chaos.

[baby-alien11]

A 'Mamma Mia' Birthday (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

taglist (open): @volturi-girl-imagines @dessxoxsworld @camiesully @ethanlandryluver @nowitsmissing @aliciacat20 @gabbylovesreading @nikfigueiredo @itsaaliyah2

jackchampion, alabamaluellabarker, aryansimhadri, iamrebeccad, cecibalagot, and 441, 972 more

yn.ulrich Since I was supposed to be Sophie in my high school production of Mamma Mia!, but I couldn't thanks to covid, I did my birthday party Mamma Mia! themed (the outfit was one of my costumes that I was going to wear on the play)

Thank you to everyone that came to the party, and also helped with the decorations and the food and drinks, it was one of the best days ever!!

p.s.: there's footage of dad, uncle Matthew and uncle Geoff singing 'Our Last Summer'

tagged jackchampion, skeetulrich, naiia, stutzelliott, julrich21, meganantoury, ulrichgeoff, willashaw, romeosanga, sarah_woods, abbycutie, not.scott.disick, noahtwitch, melissabarreram, xavierzazuetaoficial, jennaortega, baileybass, misstrinitybliss, jamieflatters, duane.evans_, britaindalton, cocoarquette_, matthewlilard, masonthegooding, amenahsoares, camimendes, madelame, lilireinhart, vanessamorgan, rachelzegler, joshandresrivera

jackchampion no one could top our duet of 'Lay All Your Love On Me'

› yn.ulrich hands down our best performance, we killed it as always

› julrich21 and it was the most uncomfortable thing to see

› user1151 we need footage of that

user629 she's too iconic for this

user1229 to be a fly on the wall during the whole party

naiia during the second hour I was so sure that someone was going to do a Cher and start singing 'Fernando'

› not.scott.disick me and noah were about to do it, but Y/N didn't let us use her platforms shoes

› yn.ulrich because those aren't your size

user508 TATUM WITH THE FLOWER IN HER HEAD

kellypiquet happy birthday cutie -from all of us

› yn.ulrich thank you kells (and everyone)

› user327 girly is trully really nice because only knowing Max and few of the drivers for a day, and already has half the grid and wags on ig

› user439 they also started to follow Jack

› user237 praying to see them in a race, they would eat with their outfits

user233 the fact that she started her birthday week by going to the MET Gala is iconic

reneerapp such an iconic way to celebrate your birthday

› yn.ulrich thanks sis, wish you were able to be here

formerclassmate listen I studied with her, well a year younger, but when you would pass in front of the rehearsals, her voice was angelic as Sophie, and it could adapt to the type of role she had

› yn.ulrich stoppp, you're making me cry in a good way, and I remember you when walking on the hallways or in the cafeteria, I always liked the way you dressed

yn.ulrich, slang_711, baileybass, lancestroll, skeetulrich and 459, 359 more

jackchampion happy Mamma Mia! birthday to the best girl to ever exist!

everyday I fell more in love thanks to your personality, kind self and the way you treat everyone with your lovely and incredible self, thank you for letting me be part of your life

tagged yn.ulrich

yn.ulrich you always make me cry in a good way 😭😭

› jackchampion to share more birthdays and special dates together

› yn.ulrich cheers for that 🥂

user1043 manifesting a love like them 🕯🕯

avatar happy birthday to honorary inhabitant of Pandora

carlossainz55 feliz cumpleaños a hermanita, can't wait to see both of you again

› user328 CARLOS?! WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!

› user913 he called her little sister, i'm not okay

› user2715 ngl, I feel like Jack and Lando would be good friends

› georgerussell63 👀

pascalispunk happy birthday to Y/N

jiyoung_ie happy birthday to the best dressed girl in our generation

› yn.ulrich JI, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, YOU'RE SO SWEET

masonthegooding I don't know how it was possible, but this party was better than last year

› yn.ulrich because I had this planned since years ago (and the budget was bigger)

_hayleyamber happy birthday to one of the sweetest girl in the world

user143 please god, I don't want to be your strongest soldier anymore

yn.ulrich, julrich21, rachelleighcook, tylergillet, jackchampion and 174, 333 more

skeetulrich Happy birthday to my little tornado, I can't believe it's already twenty years since you came into the world, and most of them you've spent it roasting my 'lack of fashion sense' and critiquing my characters, but I wouldn't change it all

tagged yn.ulrich

yn.ulrich best dad in the world!

beardedskullsmufx happy birthday to the future of VFX make up

user7259 oh to be an Ulrich sibling

madchenamick I can't believe my little girl is so grown up

therealkrystenritter 🤍🤍🤍

user851 the birthday of the ghostface/serpent princess should be a national celebration

user586 STOP THIS IS SO CUTE

user251 girly has been a fashion queen since an early age

yn.ulrich, jackchampion, iamcharliebushnell, skeetulrich, and 10, 832 more

julrich21 and naiia happy birthday to the girl who arrived to complete our little gang, the true child of divorce, the one who was the devil for a cat but claims is a sweet angel, the one whose boyfriend is nicer to us than her, the one whose job is tormenting dad now that we are out of the house, the one that makes friends everywhere she goes, the one that recieved a message from a F1 driver and left him on read (good choice btw), to the most popular Ulrich at this moment, we love you tornado

tagged yn.ulrich

naiia just to be clear, I only wrote the first two phrases before Jakob took away the phone

yn.ulrich guys I love both of you so much

yn.ulrich and WHY ARE YOU AIRING MY BUSSINESS ON IG AND MAKING ME SOUND LIKE A BITCH??, only for that I'm turning your room into my second closet, dad and I already got the constructal plans and we are chosing the materials, colors and furniture

› julrich21 but my room is already your storage room

› yn.ulrich exactly

georginacatescouture look at my babies 😍😍😍

jackchampion dude, she's about to go kill you

› julrich21 I don't care, what is she going to do?? put her pink sparkly gf mask and grab her blingy fake knife??

› yn.ulrich yes 🔪

meganantoury happy birthday to my baby sister-in-law

user1236 WHICH DRIVER?? WHAT??

› user437 they're probably joking

› user129 look at Y/N's comment, doesn't seem like a joke

stutzelliott she's here to humble every single one of us, and we love her for that

user1802 i love how her siblings-in-law love her

[yellow-dejavu]

- Paradise is free of pain and sorrow. Everything we've ever done is forgotten there. Any pain that we've ever felt is erased. And all the dead live.

I find it curious how the belief in paradise affects some of the characters, so I want to make a little speculation about how I think it might have worked. Franziska, Magnus and Agnes were part of Sic Mundus, but it is really unclear how they see it. So I will mainly focus on Noah, Elisabeth and Silja, who are known to really believe in paradise.

When Noah and Elisabeth meet, he shares his belief in paradise with her. Then they are separated by the disappearance of their daughter, and Silja as a child is brought to Elisabeth. Elisabeth shares her belief in paradise with Silja. The way I think it might play out is that Elisabeth knew this child who had just lost her mother, and she wanted to comfort this little girl by sharing something that had given her comfort since she was a little girl. I also think that Elisabeth was specifically told to form Sic Mundus in the post-apocalyptic era and protect the plant.

So Silja was raised in a cult until 1888, where she continued her life and died with an earlier version of the same cult. Her husband was part of the cult since his late teens until his death, and their kids were raised in a cult. There is little or no information about the family of Bartosz, Silja, Hanno and Agnes. So I have some assumptions about their family dynamics. Silja named her son Hanno after her late mother Hannah. Hanno was very young when his mother died. So I think the way she may have introduced Hanno to paradise is as a bedtime story. I mean Silja gave her son something from her mother, which is his name, so I think it would make sense if she gave her son something from the other parental figure she had in her life, which is Elisabeth. Something that gave her comfort in hard times and now she could share with her little boy in better times.

I also think I could connect this with Bartosz death. What if Bartosz wanted to keep this image of a "perfect paradise" as a way for his child to remember Silja?

It would be even easier to manipulate a little cult boy into thinking that betraying his father is an act of love. Adam believed in paradise, but not in the same way. His version wasn't as optimistic; their version was easier to manipulate and use in his favor. Sic Mundus can make Noah believe that his father's detachment from the prophecy is forgetting his mother's memory, and he knows that his father is clearly in pain. Bartosz has lost his faith, but Noah can still free him from all that pain and take him to Paradise. Noah must save his father by killing him.

If he thought something like that, it made me think of the phrase Noah repeated more than once, "he also said we'd become friends before you betray me". Noah always knew that he would be betrayed, but he didn't imagine that his baby would be stolen by his own baby and the mother who was also her baby's daughter, all ordered by Adam. I think Noah always taught that Adam would kill him. Maybe he would lose his faith like his father and Adam would betray him. He would save him by killing him like Noah did with his father. Jonas would do it because he loves Noah and it would free him from all his pain. Adam is his savior.

After the experiments failed and Charlotte's birth was difficult, Noah didn't feel his faith was as strong. He was hopeless. But they're going to make it, they're going to fulfill the prophecy. Noah will have to travel and teach a younger version of himself. He has never seen a much older version of himself, so it could mean that his time is near. But could paradise ever be as sweet and real as what he's building with his family? it doesn't matter how he feels, he just wants Elisabeth to keep her hope, and he would give her the strength he doesn't have for himself.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Kate Cohen

Published: Oct 3, 2023

I like to say that my kids made me an atheist. But really what they did was make me honest.

I was raised Jewish — with Sabbath prayers and religious school, a bat mitzvah and a Jewish wedding. But I don’t remember ever truly believing that God was out there listening to me sing songs of praise.

I thought of God as a human invention: a character, a concept, a carry-over from an ancient time.

I thought of him as a fiction.

Today I realize that means I’m an atheist. It’s not complicated. My (non)belief derives naturally from a few basic observations:

The Greek myths are obviously stories. The Norse myths are obviously stories. L. Ron Hubbard obviously made that stuff up. Extrapolate.

The holy books underpinning some of the bigger theistic religions are riddled with “facts” now disproved by science and “morality” now disavowed by modern adherents. Extrapolate.

Life is confusing and death is scary. Naturally, humans want to believe that someone capable is in charge and that we continue to live after we die. But wanting doesn’t make it so.

Child rape. War. Etc.

And yet, when I was younger, I would never have called myself an atheist — not on a survey, not to my family, not even to myself.

Being an “atheist,” at least according to popular culture, seems to require so much work. You have to complain to the school board about the Pledge of Allegiance, stamp over “In God We Trust” on all your paper money and convince Grandma not to go to church. You have to be PhD-from-Oxford smart, irritated by Christmas and shruggingly unmoved by Michelangelo’s “Pietà.” That isn’t me — but those are the stereotypes.

And then there are the data.Studies have shown that many, many Americans don’t trust atheists. They don’t want to vote for atheists, and they don’t want their children to marry atheists. Researchers have found that even atheists presume serial killers are more likely to be atheist than not.

Given all this, it’s not hard to see why atheists often prefer to keep quiet about it. Why I kept quiet. I wanted to be liked!

But when I had children — when it hit me that I was responsible for teaching my children everything — I wanted, above all, to tell them the truth.

Their first atheist lesson was completely impromptu. Noah was 5, Jesse was 3, and we were sitting on the couch before bed reading from “D’Aulaires’ Book of Greek Myths,” a holdover from my childhood bookshelf. One of the boys asked what a “myth” was, and I told them it was a story about how the world works. People used to believe that these gods were in charge of what happened on Earth, and these stories helped explain things they didn’t understand, like winter or stars or thunder. “See” — I flipped ahead and found a picture — “Zeus has a thunderbolt.”

“They don’t believe them anymore?” No, I said. That’s why they call it “myth.” When people still believe it, they call it “religion.” Like the stories about God and Moses that we read at Passover or the ones about Jesus and Christmas.

The little pajama-clad bodies nodded, and on we read.

That was it — the big moment. It was probably also the easiest moment.

Before one son became preoccupied with death. Before the other son had to decide whether to be bar mitzvahed. Before my daughter looked up from her math homework one day to ask, “How do we know there’s no God?”

Religion offers ready-made answers to our most difficult questions. It gives people ways to mark time, celebrate and mourn. Once I vowed not to teach my children anything I did not personally believe, I had to come up with new answers. But I discovered as I went what most parents discover: You can figure it out as you go.

Establishing a habit of honesty did not sap the delight from my children’s lives or destroy their moral compass. I suspect it made my family closer than we would have been had my husband and I pretended to our children that we believed in things we did not. We sowed honesty and reaped trust — along with intellectual challenge, emotional sustenance and joy.

Those are all personal rewards. But there are political rewards as well.

My children know how to distinguish fact from fiction — which is harder for children raised religious. They don’t assume conventional wisdom is true and they do expect arguments to be based on evidence. Which means they have the skills to be engaged, informed and savvy citizens.

We need citizens like that.

Lies, lying and disinformation suffuse mainstream politics as never before. A recent Washington Post-ABC News poll found that 29 percent of Americans believe that President Biden was not legitimately elected, a total composed of those who think there is solid evidence of fraud (22 percent) and those who think there isn’t (7 percent). I don’t know which is worse: believing there to be evidence of fraud when even the Trump campaign can’t find any or asserting the election was stolen even though you know there’s no proof.

Meanwhile, we are just beginning to grasp that artificial intelligence could develop an almost limitless power to deceive — threatening the ability of even the most alert citizen to discern what’s real.

We need Americans who demand — as atheists do — that truth claims be tethered to fact. We need Americans who understand — as atheists do — that the future of the world is in our hands. And in this particular political moment, we need Americans to stand up to Christian nationalists who are using their growing political and judicial power to take away our rights. Atheists can do that.

Fortunately, there are a lot of atheists in the United States — probably far more than you think.

[ Ellen Weinstein for The Washington Post ]

Some people say they believe in God, but not the kind favored by monotheistic religions — a conscious supreme being with powers of intercession or creation. When they say “God,” they mean cosmic oneness or astonishing coincidences. They mean that sense of smallness-within-largeness they’ve felt while standing on the shore of the ocean or holding a newborn baby or hearing the final measures of Chopin’s “Fantaisie-Impromptu.”

So, why do those people use the word “God” at all? The philosopher Daniel C. Dennett argues in “Breaking the Spell”that since we know we’re supposed to believe in God, when we don’t believe in a supernatural being we give the name instead to things we do believe in, such as transcendent moments of human connection.

Whatever the case, in 2022, Gallup found that 81 percent of Americans believe in God, the lowest percentage yet recorded. This year, when it gave respondents the option of saying they’re not sure, it found that only 74 percent believe in God, 14 percent weren’t sure, and 12 percent did not believe.

Not believing in God — that’s the very definition of atheism. But when people go around counting atheists, the number they come up with is far lower than that. The most recent number from Pew Research Center is 4 percent.

What’s with the gap? That’s anti-atheist stigma (and pro-belief bias) at work. Everybody’s keeping quiet, because everybody wants to be liked. Some researchers, recognizing this problem, developed a workaround.

In 2017, psychologists Will Gervais and Maxine Najle tried to estimate the prevalence of atheism in the United States using a technique called “unmatched count”: They asked two groups, of 1,000 respondents each, how many statements were true among a list of statements. The lists were identical except that one of them included the statement “I believe in God.” By comparing the numbers, the researchers could then estimate the percentage of atheists without ever asking a direct question. They came up with around 26 percent.

If that’s true or even close, there are more atheists in the United States than Catholics.

Do you know what some of those atheists call themselves? Catholics. And Protestants, Jews, Muslims and Buddhists. General Social Survey data back this up: Among religious Americans, only 64 percent are certain about the existence of God. Hidden atheists can be found not just among the “nones,” as they’re called — the religiously unaffiliated — but also in America’s churches, mosques and synagogues.

“If you added up all the nominal Christians, Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, etc. — those who are religious in name only,” Harvard humanist chaplain Greg M. Epstein writes in “Good Without God,”“you really might get the largest denomination in the world.”

Atheists are everywhere. And we are unusually disposed to getting stuff done.

I used to say, when people asked me what atheists do believe, that it was simple: Atheists believe that God is a human invention.

But now, I think it’s more than that.

If you are an atheist — if you do not believe in a Supreme Being — you can be moral or not, mindful or not, clever or not, hopeful or not. Clearly, you can keep going to church. But, by definition, you cannot believe that God is in charge. You must give up the notion of God’s will, God’s purpose, God’s mysterious ways.

In some ways, this makes life easier. You don’t have to work out why God might cause or ignore suffering, what parts of this broken world are God’s plan, or what work is his to do and what is yours.

But you also don’t get to leave things up to God. Atheists must accept that people are allowing — we are allowing — women to die in childbirth, children to go hungry, men to buy guns that can slaughter dozens of people in minutes. Atheists believe people organized the world as it is now, and only people can make it better.

No wonder we are “the most politically active group in American politics today,” according to political scientist Ryan Burge, interpreting data from the Cooperative Election Study.

That’s right: Atheists take more political action — donating to campaigns, protesting, attending meetings, working for politicians — than any other “religious” group. And we vote. In his study on this data, sociologist Evan Stewart noted that atheists were about 30 percent more likely to vote than religiously affiliated respondents.

We also vote far more than most religiously unaffiliated people. That’s what distinguishes atheists from the “nones” — and what I didn’t realize at first.

Atheists haven’t just checked out of organized religion. (Indeed, we may not have.) We haven’t just rejected belief in God. (Though, obviously, that’s the starting point.) Where atheism becomes a definite stance rather than a lack of direction, a positive belief and not just a negative one, is in our understanding that, without a higher power, we need human power to change the world.

I want to be clear: There are clergy members and congregations all across this country working to do good, not waiting for God to answer their prayers or assuming that God meant for the globe to get hotter. You don’t have to be an atheist to conduct yourself as if people are responsible for the world they live in — you just have to act like an atheist, by taking matters into your own hands.

Countless good people of faith do just that. But one thing they can’t do as well as atheists is push back against the outsize cultural and political power of religion itself.

That power is crushing some of our most vulnerable citizens. And I don’t mean my fellow atheists. Atheists, it’s true, are subject to discrimination and scapegoating; somehow we’re to blame for moral chaos, mass shootings and whatever the “trans cult” is. Yes, we are technically barred from serving as jurors in the state of Maryland or joining a Boy Scout troop anywhere, but we do not, as a group, suffer anything like the prejudice that, say, LGBTQ+ people face. It’s not even close.

Peel back the layers of discrimination against LGBTQ+ people, though, and you find religion. Peel back the layers of control over women’s bodies — from dress codes that punish girls for male desire all the way to the Supreme Court striking down Roe v. Wade — and you find religion. Often, there isn’t much peeling to do. According to the bill itself, Missouri’s total abortion ban was created “in recognition that Almighty God is the author of life.” Say what, now?

Peel back the layers of abstinence-only or marriage-centered or anti-homosexual sex education and you find religion. “Don’t say gay” laws, laws denying trans kids medical care, school-library book bans and even efforts to suppress the teaching of inconvenient historical facts — motivated by religion.

And when religion loses a fight and progress wins instead? Religion then claims it’s not subject to the resulting laws. “Religious belief” is — more and more, at the state and federal levels — a way to sidestep advances the country makes in civil rights, human rights and public health.

In 45 states and D.C., parents can get religious exemptions from laws that require schoolchildren to be vaccinated. Seven states allow pharmacists to refuse to fill contraceptive prescriptions because of their religious beliefs. Every business with a federal contract has to comply with federal nondiscrimination rules — unless it’s a religious organization. Every employer that provides health insurance has to comply with the Affordable Care Act’s contraceptive mandate — unless it’s, say, a craft supply store with Christian owners.

Case by case, law by law, our country’s commitment to the first right enumerated in our Bill of Rights — “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion” — is faltering. The Supreme Court has ruled that the citizens of Maine have to pay for parochial school, that a high school football coach should be free to lead a prayer on the 50-yard line, that a potential wedding website designer can reject potential same-sex clients. This past summer, Oklahoma approved the nation’s first publicly funded religious school. This fall, Texas began allowing schools to employ clergy members in place of guidance counselors.

You don’t have to be an atheist to worry about the structural integrity of Thomas Jefferson’s “wall of separation between Church & State.” You don’t have to be an atheist to think that religion should not shape public policy or that believers should have to follow the laws that everyone else does. You don’t have to be an atheist to see that Christian nationalists are using “religious liberty” to perpetuate much of the discrimination Americans suffer today.

But atheists can do one thing about the country’s drift into theocracy that our religious neighbors won’t: We can tell people we don’t believe in God. The more people who do that, the more we normalize atheism in America, the easier it will be — for both politicians and the general public — to usher religion back out of our laws.

Okay, but should you say you’re an atheist even if you believe in “God” as the power of nature or something like that?

Yes. It does no one any favors — not the country, not your neighbors — to say you believe in God metaphorically when there are plenty of people out there who literally believe that God is looking down from heaven deciding which of us to cast into hell.

In fact, when certain believers wield enough political power to turn their God’s presumed preferences into law, I would say it’s dangerous to claim you believe in “God” when what you actually believe in is awe or wonder. (Your “God is love” only lends validity and power to their “God hates gays.”)

So ask yourself: Do I think a supernatural being is in charge of the universe?

If you answer “no,” you’re an atheist. That’s it — you’re done.

But if you go further: You’ll be doing something good for your country.

When I started raising my kids as atheists, I wasn’t particularly honest with the rest of the world. I wasn’t everybody’s mom, right? Plus, I had to get along with other people. Young parents need community, and I was afraid to risk alienating new parent friends by being honest about being — looks both ways, lowers voice — an atheist.

But, in addition to making me be honest inside our home, my children pushed me to start being honest on the outside. In part, I wanted to set an example for them, and in part, I wanted to help change the world they would face.

It shouldn’t be hard to say you don’t believe in God. It shouldn’t be shocking or shameful. I know that I’m moral and respectful and friendly. And the more I say to people that I’m an atheist — me, the mom who taught the kindergarten class about baking with yeast and brought the killer cupcakes to the bake sale — the more people will stop assuming that being an atheist means being … a serial killer.

And then? The more I say I’m an atheist, the more other people will feel comfortable calling themselves atheists. And the stigma will gradually dissolve.

Can you imagine? If we all knew how many of us there are?

It would give everyone permission to be honest with their kids and their friends, to grapple with big questions without having to hold on to beliefs they never embraced.

And it would take away permission, too. Permission to pass laws (or grant exemptions to laws) based on the presumed desires of a fictional creation. Permission to be cruel to fellow human beings based on Bible verses. Permission to eschew political action in favor of “thoughts and prayers.”

I understand that, to many people, this might sound difficult or risky. It took me years to declare myself an atheist, and I was raised Reform Jewish, I live in the Northeast, I’m White, I work at home, and my family and friends are a liberal bunch. The stakes were low for me. For some, I fully concede, the stakes are too high.

If you think you’d lose your job or put your children at risk of harassment for declaring your atheism, you get a pass. If you would be risking physical harm, don’t speak out. If you’re an atheist running for school board somewhere that book bans are on the agenda, then feel free to keep it quiet, and God bless.

But for everyone else who doesn’t believe in God and hasn’t said so? Consider that your honesty will allow others to be honest, and that your reticence encourages others to keep quiet. Consider that the longer everyone keeps quiet, the longer religion has political and cultural license to hurt people. Consider that the United States — to survive as a secular democracy — needs you now more than ever.

And the next time you find yourself tempted to pretend that you believe in God? Tell the truth instead.

[starsomens]

✨Request✨ about my embarrassment because embarassing myself is my hobby <3

reader's parents and younger brother (8 years old the young bastard😑💙 go pick up the reader at the end of the show, in that gentle moment when Noah chats a bit with fans. While he and the reader are chatting, the reader's younger brother approaches them and innocently asks "Is he that Noah guy you keep talking about in your sleep?🧐🤔" BABEGORL IMAGINE NOAHS FAACCEE IM FINISHEDD FOR LIFFEE😭😭

He come out of the concert absolutely exhausted, but absolutely fulfilled. You had one of the best nights of your life. The performance was amazing. The vocals were unforgettable and of course the boys as individuals was just a whole other experience. You were just a little little sad that you weren’t able to get VIP tickets in time but there was always the next show.

So here you were waiting outside for your parents to arrive. They’re about five minutes away, so it wouldn’t be too long. You scroll through your phone. Looking at the pictures you had taken tonight. You zoom in on a particular picture that you have taken nearly perfectly. It was a lead singer Noah and he looked fantastic. No it was very common but also pretty, looked down upon depending on who you asked to have a crush on the lead singer. as much as you try to avoid it or deny it, you definitely had a crush on him

His musical talents, his looks, and his vibe personality overall really draws people in, so could you really blame yourself? You sigh reliving the memory in your head.

“ maybe next time I’ll get into VIP “ you said to yourself wistfully

“ well, maybe that can be changed “ a voice comes from behind you you spin around to see none other than Noah Sebastian and Nick Rufillo. You felt your heart dropped into your ass you blink a couple of times look from side to side, not believing what you were saying. It was after the concert, and here was the band members themselves talking to you

You for a loss of words “I-I…. Your bad omens …” was all that you could muster

They both smile their heads “ that we are. Did you enjoy the show tonight? “ they asked and you not your head enthusiastically

“ it was so good I loved every second of it!” Compliment you’re more than sure that they could see the stars in your eyes from how you were gawking and rambling to them

“ Glad that you enjoyed, but how about a picture since you didn’t make it into VIP” offered you felt like you were dreaming at this point and you hope something would come and prove that it wasn’t a dream. As if the universe was listening to your thoughts at that very moment. Another voice comes behind you.

“Hi!” Slightly turned around to see your younger brother. “ is that your boyfriend?” he ask looking Noah up and down.

“Y/B/N! No, where’s mom and dad? Why are you here?” You ask as blush appears on your face. Your cheeks become aggressively red from embarrassment.

“ we’re here to pick you up remember” he said sarcastically pointing to the car. You just kept your mouth shut at that point because if you said anything else he’d make it worse.

“ hey how do I get a picture of you guys together?” Your mom offered pulling out her phones to take a picture. Your brother may have shown up to embarrassing you, but at least you were able to get a picture with Nick and Noah even if you weren’t able to get into VIP and see the rest of the boys.

Group together and take one or two pictures and thank them profusely

“ I know you” your brother says suddenly

And of course, Noah asks “oh you do do you enjoy the music too?“

“ not really but you my sister’s wallpaper and she talks about you in her sleep too”

You. were. Horrified. Sure your brother embarrasses you at times but why now? And in front of all people know Sebastian of bad omens. WHY???

You couldn’t move you couldn’t say anything you were completely petrified in your spot and just watched Noah’s eyes widen and surprise. A smile crossing his face in a light chuckle, escaping his lips.

“ well, I’m sure she does if she really likes her music” he was trying to save the embarrassment and redirect your brother in a different direction but of course this demon spawn says

“Mmm but she’s always staring at pictures of you saying how hot you are-“

“OKAY WELL IM TIRED and it’s time to go home and I have work in the morning”

“No you do-“

At that point, you sort of stuffing your brother into the backseat of the car and shut the door as fast as possible. You had nowhere to hide your face as a long size escapes your body. You had such a great night, and you even got to meet two of the band members and your brother just had to ruin the experience.

You felt the top of your shoulder and you turn around to see Noah, handing you a piece of paper those between his fingers. He gives you a soft smile and says.

“ we gotta get going, but have a safe drive and thanks for coming to the show”

“ thank you for taking a picture with me. I really appreciate it and again I love your music so much.” You think them and goodbye as they walk to you soon will be the tour bus

when all of a sudden you get into the car and put your headphones on completely ignore your brother. You look at the paper still in hands, folded. You take the paper and carefully open it, just enough for you to read.

It was autographed by Nick and Noah with a small note under Noah's name

"see you in your dreams ;)"

Your cheeks heat up and all you could do was fold it tightly and stuff it into your pocket. You'll make sure your brother doesn't ever see this one!

「✨Taglist✨」 @lilhobgobbler @cncohshit @vir-tual @tdopomymind @concretenoah @misspygmypie @your-girl-c @fvckmeorchokeme @lust-for-sacher @thescarlettvvitch @cind6547

[aussie-cipher]

G'DAY!

SOME BLOKE RECOMMENDED "CONNECTING WITH PEOPLE MORE" OR WHATEVER! HE WAS EARBASHING ME FOR A FUCKIN' AGE! BUT HE'S DEAD NOW-

AND I'M HERE!

(ooc stuff under the cut (UPDATED FOR AU CLARITY + HUMAN OZ DESIGN))

ooc: i prefer sfw interactions but nsfw implications are okay by me im not actually aussie irl (so bear with me) - i do have aussie family though aussie uses he/him pronouns

aussie falls is basically where “bill” (known less by his name and more as many nicknames - like aussie or oz) ends up in australia rather than oregon in america

if this sounds like an idea someone else has had then i didnt steal it! it's a coincidence since even my main blog is decently new to the site! quickly gonna say some stuff uh, so, aussie falls is set in alice springs (a real australian town) but aussie and the eucalypt family lived on the outskirts. he lived with that family most of his life, but for them that was many generations. he fell in love with oliver eucalypt (because despite growing up under their care, he never saw them as family, moreso just friends who raised him as the concept of family was basically alien to him.

there's: - noah eucalypt (aussie falls dipper) - issa eucalypt (aussie falls mabel) - oliver eucalypt (aussie falls ford) - henry eucalypt (aussie falls stan)

thats the ones he lives with at the time of austrageddon, which is brought on by oliver telling him where he's from and why he's here. he doesn't remember it, due to him being much younger than american bill when it happened (and he therefore doesnt remember his parents). but the idea of it is enough to set him off.

then he got taken down by the emus because,, he's still a joke character despite it all (and this is australian gravity falls).

he killed oliver during austrageddon but is convinced that the emus have him somewhere. he basically went insane with the notion, meaning that the whole reason he's a 'joke character' is because that's all he can mentally handle being. and he only has rare moments of clarity from this.

i have a whole ass lore document about him man. and im still writin'.

anyway, here's human aussie:

and a devious emu:

(both drawn by my friend irl)

[catholic-character-tournament]

Round 3 - Catholic Character Tournament

Propaganda below ⬇️

Michael

Literally the whole movie series is framed around the sacraments. Weddings and first communions and baptisms.

I just thought of the Godfather bc of the tumblr ask about people who are devout in some ways but uhh not very holy in other ways, and nobody is a better example of that than Michael in the montage toward the end of the Godfather. I saw the film for the first time last year, and that sequence just floored me. Will not spoil it in case you haven't seen the film but ohhh my goodness

Ronan Lynch

Uhh fun fact he saw the devil flash his father once, and that's one of the reasons he goes to church on Sundays <3

context for this scene from book 2: ronan is in church with his older brother declan, younger brother matthew, and ghost friend noah "Joseph Kavinsky isn’t someone I want you being around,” Declan added. “Don’t snort. I’m serious.” Ronan merely invested a look with as much contempt as he could muster. A lady reached over the top of Noah to pat Matthew’s head fondly before continuing down the aisle. She didn’t seem to care that he was fifteen, which was all right, because he didn’t, either. Both Ronan and Declan observed this interaction with the pleased expressions of parents watching their prodigy at work. Declan repeated, “Like, actually dangerous.” Sometimes, Declan seemed to think that being a year older gave him special knowledge of the seedier side of Henrietta. What he meant was, did Ronan know that Kavinsky was a cokehead. In his ear, Noah whispered, “Is crack the same thing as speed?” Ronan didn’t answer. He didn’t think it was a very church-appropriate conversation. “I know you think you’re a punk,” Declan said. “But you aren’t nearly as bad ass as you think you are.” “Oh, go to hell,” Ronan snapped, just as the altar boys broached the rear doors. “Guys,” Matthew pleaded. “Be holy.”

Gay Catholic streetracing farmer. Consumed by catholic guilt NOT because of the gay thing but because he can Create things in a way he thinks should be only God's business. Will literally roll up to mass on sunday morning still drunk and bloody.

THIS GOTH KID IS LITERALLY GOD. This is a god trapped in the body of a Catholic teen and if he ever stopped feeling Catholic guilt he’d end the world!!. How is your confession every week that you creating a whole new being? Babygirl the God is coming from inside the house

eldritch entity from beyond the mortal plane wants to be a Real Human Boy, becomes a real (ish!) human (ish!) boy, goes to mass every sunday

Gay boy got his crush an apartment above his church so he could have his two favorite things in one place

gay. I'm not caught up the the series but I went through the tag when the latest book came out and I remember seeing a quote that said he worried if his boyfriend would make it to heaven when he dies because of his agnostic tendencies.

Kid is like a dream warlock who creates psychic horrors and never goes to confession because why would he? and he’s gay

There are no words

basically ronan's powers are inherited from his dead father niall and it means he can bring anything from a dream into real life. so he's got this whole crisis about whether he is a living piece of blasphemy because men are not meant to have the powers of gods or whether he literally is god. which is not acceptable to him for a number of reasons but mostly because he hates himself. his love interest's name is adam and adam lives in a small apartment above a church which the book says focuses the objects of his worship neatly into one building. I love them both dearly. also, this entire page makes me feel like I'm going insane. Ronan Lynch believed in heaven and hell. Once, he’d seen the devil. It had been a low, late morning at the Barns when the sun had burned off the mist and then burned off the chill and then burned the edges off the ground until everything shimmered with heat. It never got hot in those protected fields, but that morning, the air sweated with it. Ronan had never seen cattle pant before. All of the cows heaved and stuck their tongues out as they frothed with the heat. His mother sent Ronan to put them in the shade of the cattle barn. Ronan had gone to the searing metal gate, and as he did, he’d glimpsed his father, already in the barn. Four yards away from him had stood a red man. He was not truly red, but the burned orange of a fire ant. And he was not truly a man, because of the horns and the hooves. Ronan remembered the alienness of the creature, how real it had been. Every costume in the world had gotten it wrong; every drawing in every comic book. They’d all forgotten that the devil was an animal. Looking at the red man, Ronan had been struck by the intricacy of the body, how many miraculous pieces moved smoothly in harmony, no different than his own. Niall Lynch had had a gun in hand — the Lynches had an enormous number of guns of all sizes — and just as Ronan had opened the gate, his father had shot the thing about thirteen times in the head. With a shake of its horns, the unharmed devil had presented its genitalia to Niall Lynch before bounding off. It was an image that had yet to leave Ronan. And so Ronan became a reverse evangelist. The truth burst and grew inside him, and it was laid upon him to share it with no one. No one was meant to see hell before they get there. No one should have to live with the devil. So many homilies on faith were ruined once you no longer required it for belief.

[copperbadge]

I'm sure I'm not being original, but surely there is an au where the King and Queen Emeritus court Jes Demos together? Given that the Queen had, uh, gal pals in their shared bed.

I think you're the first to suggest it actually!

(Honestly if I knew how much I'd expand this universe I would possibly not have had Miranda die, but that would have changed the series a lot and it's a trouser leg of time we won't go down.)

I can definitely see an AU where Miranda never got sick, and Michaelis and Miranda retired similar to the time frame in the books but found themselves still a little at loose ends the way Michaelis did in canon. I think Miranda, who could be imperious at times, might have been rather offended that Jes didn't do them the courtesy of notifying the palace they were doing the podcast about the country; she might very well have marched down to the recording studio to give that Deimos a piece of her mind not because she didn't like the podcast but because she felt it would have been polite to inform them.

I think a fight between her and Jes would have been fucking epic ("It's common courtesy!" "Are you attempting to curtail the freedom of the press?" "Are you delusional??" etc) and also extremely hot. And then Miranda would vent to Michaelis, who as a diplomat would attempt to smooth things over by inviting Jes and Lachlan to dinner on neutral ground and negotiating the Pax Podcastrum.

After which Lachlan would undoubtedly be like "it's a good thing you're bi because they both want a turn" which Jes scoffs at but also finds intriguing, and we go from there. It does add some twists and turns since Miranda would probably be the one more overtly interested, and Michaelis might just be like "If you like them, that's enough for me," but take a while to warm up to Jes.

In the canon, and this will pop up at some point, Miranda and Michaelis didn't have an open marriage (not that I thought you implied that, just clarifying generally) -- they had one close, intimate friend who wasn't around very much but basically was their booty call when she visited. I plan to have her show up eventually and be delighted by Jes and the positive change they've made in Michaelis. In this possible AU scenario I can see Michaelis and Miranda discussing the idea of perhaps a more permanent and stable arrangement with Jes. It'd be an interesting story to write, I think. The Emeriti Take A Young Lover. :D (I mean Jes is younger than they are...)

Fascinating to consider what they might tell Gregory and Noah. Not to mention whether the press would eventually get wind of it. I remember listening to one of my regular podcasts and one of the hosts speaking openly, but somewhat suddenly, about her polyamory, and my eyebrows shooting up. Not in judgement, I have no problem with polyamory and a lot of poly friends, it was just unexpected to hear someone being that upfront about it in a public forum that wasn't explicitly about the topic. I suspect the general reaction of the populace would be a) what and b) yeah if I could take any two of those people to bed I would too.

Be especially funny if at first everyone thinks it's an affair but can't figure out which one of them is cheating. Miranda would enjoy herself hugely. "We can finally have a sex scandal after forty years of marriage, my love. Let me at least bask in it for a week or two."

[diskaywrites]

Whumptober 2024

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 #𝟖: 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐧. 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐍𝐨𝐚𝐡 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐱 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 (𝐨𝐜) ((𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂)) 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐎𝐟: 𝐔𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐝𝐲, 𝐑𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧' 𝐑𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞: 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧

.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽..✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽..✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽..✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽..✽✦✽.◦.✽

Noah Angle could make out the outline of one of his children standing at the foot of his bed, the door open behind him letting in the light from the hallway. For a moment, as his eyes tried to adjust to just waking up, the light almost seemed blue. That was impossible, though, and Noah's blue eyes adjusted to reveal his son Everett standing there in his Scooby-Doo pajamas. "Dad? I...I had a nightmare..."

Noah rubbed his eyes with the flat of his palm, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to stand. It was the life of a parent, taking care of his children no matter the time of night. He put a comforting hand on Everett's shoulder as the duo crossed down the brown carpeted hallway back to his son's room. It was remarkable how much his eleven-year-old was like him. The Impact Wrestling audience had been the first to see it, Everett and Noah standing side-by-side in some of the most pivotal moments of Noah's career. To the elder Angle, however, it was never more obvious than when Noah looked at his son's room. He remembered having the same wood framed bed, the same posters for the Steelers of the Flyers on his walls. Action figures and Legos sat on the shelves, including one that Noah didn't recognize.

As Everett got comfortable back in bed, Noah crossed to the bedside nightstand, picking up the small gray rabbit figure that sat there. "This is neat, bud. Where'd you get it?"

Everett pulled his gray blanket on his bed up to his chin, eyes full of fear, "𝐇𝐞 left it here."

Panic entered Noah's eyes as he knelt to one knee next to the bed, "Everett...what was the nightmare about?"

His son sniffled, curled up under the blanket. The fear in his eyes was palpable and with each passing moment, Noah felt his blood run colder and colder. "Th...there was a rabbit, but it wasn't like a normal rabbit. It...it looked like Henrietta and Daniel."

A puppet. Henrietta and Daniel were two of the puppets in Everett's favorite show from his younger years, Mr. Roger's Neighborhood. Whatever fear had been in Noah's heart was replaced with a burning hot rage. How 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒆 that thing bring his funhouse puppets to antagonize his son? Everett had already faced fear when Moose had attacked Noah while Everett was in the ring, but this was even worse. This thing was coming for his son. "Did he hurt you?"

Everett shook his head, "He...he told me jokes. He made me laugh. But...but he wanted me to let you know that 𝐡𝐞 was gonna come here. The rabbit said someone was gonna come here for you."

Noah wrapped his fist around the small rabbit figurine with one hand, taking Everett's hand in his other. He could feel the way his son's hand trembled, "Everett. Have I ever let anyone hurt you or Daisy before?"

Everett shook his head as he squeezed his dads hand, "No. No never!"

"And I'm never going to," Noah promised, tucking Everett in before pressing a kiss to the top of his son's head before he stood, "I love you, bud."

"Can...can you leave the light on, dad?" Everett asked as Noah reached the door to the room. Noah left the door cracked, heading back down the lit hallway to his own room. He briefly considered closing his own bedroom door, but as his thumb ran over the rabbit figurine, he decided to leave it open. What harm was one night with the lights on?

[renaiswriting]

Baci di Luna (part 5)

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol/Reader

Summary:

Saying I love you was never easy.

Having to say it in a language that wasn't yours was not easy either.

Imagine the struggle of that, and now add it to loving someone whose family thinks you're a monster.

It can't be easy at all.

Word count: +4.1k

Warnings: Mentions of death, mentions of burning. (I think that's all.)

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Masterlist

Moon phases masterlist

Taglist: @sahhmochi @darkdayelixer @hipsdofangirl @ryusha-rose

If you wanna be tagged, please fill out the tag list form.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

"Noah, stop it already!"

 

Noah had been banging on the bathroom door for several minutes already, hurrying you to let him into the bathroom so he could take a bath, but you knew that more out of haste to perform some personal hygiene (because Noah had never been much of a baths' lover, no matter how short they were), he was looking for excuses to distract you from meeting Seungcheol.

 

Your younger brother was jealous, and although you would have usually found him adorable, he was starting to wear on your patience a bit.

 

"If you keep banging the door, I'll tell mom." You warned him. And this seemed to be somehow effective, because the banging on the door stopped for some time.

 

You tried your best to dry your hair with your towel, but it was still kind of wet.

 

You had put it on a high ponytail and your favorite pink lipstick.

 

"All yours." You told Noah once you stepped out of the bathroom, giving him a questionable look when you found him lying down on the floor.

Your mom was on the couch, knitting a new scarf for Arianna since she had lost hers in the move and had already made the whole house crazy by constantly wearing her scarves.

Your mom looked at you twice, the first had been a distracted glance while the second scanned you up and down, her brow furrowed.

"Dove vai vestito così?"

Until those moments you had avoided mentioning to him the plan to go out with Seungcheol because of this very questioning.

Your father, who had been more focused on taking inventory of the raw materials to make the various delicacies sold at the bakery, also looked up, one of his eyebrows raised. "Yeah, where are you supposed to go all dolled up like that? You're not supposed to work at the bakery today."

"I'm going to meet Seungcheol." You explained, trying to avoid sounding nervous, you didn't want them to suspect you liked the poor boy or anything, it would be all very awkward if Seungcheol came back to the bakery after that. Your father had always been known in the family for making jokes and hinting at the boyfriends and girlfriends his sons had had so far. He shrugged it off with a shrug of his shoulders. There was nothing to hide. You were going to get together with a friend. "You've already met him."

"Chi è Seungcheol? Non lo ricordo." Your mother asked , and you couldn't believe how she didn't remember Seungcheol considering how many times he had been to the bakery.

"Yes, I don't remember any Seungcheol either." Your father nodded his head, agreeing with his wife.

"He's tall, dark hair, big round eyes..."

"Quello del cornetto? Va bene, puoi andare ma porta Arianna con te."

You guessed that by now the Cornet boy had officially acquired the nickname Seungcheol.

 

"No! I can't bring Arianna with me; he's my friend. I want to be able to talk about things with him, but Arianna will get bored. Please, Dad?"

 

Your father looked conflicted. "I don't know. What do you say?" he asked his wife directly. "(Y/n) is old enough not to need a chaperone, don't you think? Maybe we should trust her with this."

"Dove vi incontrate allora?"

 

"I don't know, we were just going to walk for a while; we didn't agree to go to a specific place."

 

"Va bene, ma torna a casa prima delle sette." Your mother agreed, her index finger pointing at you. And that was more than enough time, it was almost four and you weren't even sure you would have something to talk about for more than an hour.

And that was more than enough time; it was almost four, and you weren't even sure you would have something to talk about for more than an hour.

 

"Where are you going?" Arianna asked, entering the room where you were all wearing her pajamas, shorts, and barefoot. Her eyes looked over your figure, stopping when she realized something. "Those are my earrings! Take them off; I was planning to wear them today."

 

"Sure thing, it absolutely goes well with your outfit." You replied, rolling your eyes but taking them off anyway, giving them back to her before finding some others to use instead.

 

One of your parents must have told her what your plans were for that day because Arianna walked into your shared bedroom whining. "I wanna go too!"

 

"Well, next time, maybe. I told Seungcheol it would be just the two of us today; I really want to make new friends here."

 

"If he's going to be your friend, then he has to get used to your family." She pointed it out, throwing herself on her bed, her legs resting against the cold wall. She had started doing this after and before every meal for some reason; apparently it was good for digestion or something like that.

 

"Well, yeah, but it would be rude to just show up there if he wasn't being told in advance. Why do you suddenly want to meet with him anyway? Does my little sister have a crush that I haven't caught on to?"

 

Arianna rolled her eyes and said, "None of that. But if you're going to where we went last time, I want to go there; they gave us food. It was delicious; I still want to punch myself because we didn't bring more."

You pick up your biggest pillow and throw it at her face, taking her by surprise. "Yah! That was not nice!"

"Be grateful for what they gave us; it was a nice thing for them to do. Don't act like a brat"

Ever since that night you went to Seungcheol and his friends' house, both you and Arianna had made a silent pact to never speak about it in front of any other member of your family unless you were looking for a punishment.

"And I don't think we're going there; we're probably just going to go on a walk or something like that, and I'll come back home. Next time, we can bring Noah to the lake and invite Seungcheol if you want."

"Sure," Arianna said, "bring Seungcheol for yourself and make me babysit Noah; at least bring someone of my interest too, would you?"

You raised your right eyebrow in her direction, looking at her with an expression that said, "I caught you lying to me."

 

"Like who?" You asked her, reaching for the ring your mom had given you to protect you.

 

"I don't know; the shorter one was pretty cute." Arianna replied with a shrug. Her hand was playing with her own hair, braiding it.

 

"And probably too old for you; why don't you try looking for some guy your age in town? I'm sure the butcher's son is a nice boy, and if you go out with him, we might get a good discount on fish." You joked.

 

"But I don't like him." Arianna protested.

 

"Well, then ask mom to introduce you to some of her friends' sons; I bet she would be thrilled."

 

Arianna complained a little bit more, but you ignored it as you made your way to the door, where someone was knocking.

Seungcheol was standing in front of the door, both of his hands in his pants pockets, and his feet were moving back and forth, resting all his weight on one foot at a time.

He was biting his lower lip, and when you opened the door, he looked like he was about to fix his hair.

 

"Hello," Seungcheol sighed with a small smile. His eyes traveled to how you were dressed that day before returning to your eyes. "You look really nice today."

 

"Thanks!" You replied with a big smile, looking over your shoulder when you heard footsteps coming your way. "We should probably get going before my brother finds a way to tag along."

 

Seungcheol's eyes moved behind your figure, and you realized a little bit too late that Noah had made his way to the front door before you could fly away. "If he wants to come, he can." Seungcheol whispered to you, sending you a reassuring smile.

 

"It's okay; he can come next time."

 

Seungcheol nodded. "One of our youngest probably might enjoy his company; he would love to have someone to play with."

 

You closed the door behind you as you both started walking. The day was pretty sunny, and it was really warm.

There was a gentle breeze that was caressing your skin and moving your hair gently out of your face.

 

"Oh no, just one sibling interested in your friends is enough." You joked, and just when you thought this would be just a comment to fill the silence, it seemed to catch Seungcheol's attention.

 

"Who's attention did my friends catch?" He asked with a teasing grin.

 

"My sister's; she swears she doesn't like them like that, but I'm pretty sure she would become as silent as a mouth if she's around them again."

Seungcheol laughed loudly, shaking his head. He looked quite relaxed, and his calmness was contagious, because suddenly all the nervousness you had felt while preparing was gone.

The path began to become more familiar as Seungcheol turned near Loco Thud's butcher shop. A large green wall opened up, leaving you in awe with each step you took closer to the forest.

 

No matter how much you saw it, the forest was still so beautiful that it seemed unreal.

 

"Where are we going?" you asked curiously, pausing for a few moments to watch a butterfly fly a short distance from your face.

 

"Are you hungry? I was thinking we could have a little picnic near the lake."

 

It hadn't been until that instant that you noticed the large backpack Seungcheol was carrying on his shoulders.

 

"I'm starving." You replied happily, touching your belly in anticipation of the food. "But you should have told me in advance; I would have brought some pastries from the bakery."

 

"No, it's on me. It was my idea. I managed to make Mingyu and Joshua bake these, though. So I bet they would taste delicious—probably not as good as the pastries your family sells, but I promise these will be good. I have tried them before."

"Trust me, I'm so hungry I could eat rocks." You joked.

 

Seungcheol made you walk to the spot where you both met each other the last time. There was a nice baby blue blanket on the floor and two tiny baby yellow pillows.

 

"When did you prepare this?" You asked, and it looked really pretty with the noise of the water running right next to your spot. The blanket was soft, and the pillow felt good under you.

 

"I bring these before going to your house. I wanted to ask Jeonghan and Joshua to help me, but they were busy. I got to steal Jeonghan's blanket though, so let's try to not demage it with food." He nervously laughed.

 

"No problem." You reassured him, stretching your legs and taking a deep breath of the fresh air.

 

Seungcheol opened his backpack, taking out from inside some orange juice, two cups, and a bunch of pastries. You couldn't help yourself but take a bite of one of the big, thin chocolate cookies; they were as big as your face.

Your eyes widened in amazement as a chocolate sparkle invaded your taste buds. The dough was so sweet, you felt like you could shiver with happiness.

 

Your hand scooped out some crumbs that had landed on your chin and clothes, covering your mouth as you continued to munch on the cookie. "It's so good!"

 

Seungcheol took a cookie identical to yours, devouring it in seconds. He nodded his head in approval, copying your hand position by hiding his own mouth behind it.

 

"These are Mingyu's; I always ask him to make this for my birthday because of how tasty they are."

 

"What did you promise him in exchange for these?" You asked him, laughing, "My siblings would make me pay them or do their chores for a whole month if I asked them to bake cookies for me."

Seungcheol laughed nervously. He had no idea how to tell you that he had promised Mingyu that he would take his nightly rounds if Mingyu accepted to bake stuff for his little date with you.

 

"I said I would do his laundry for a month." He replied instead. "Joshua was nicer; he asked me to do his bed instead for a week."

 

"You're the older one, aren't you?" You asked, nodding alongside Seungcheol when he confirmed it. "That's the blessing and the curse of the oldest; we can order around the house, but once they start growing up, they stop doing what we ask for if it isn't exchanged for a favor later." You laughed.

 

"Are you much older than your siblings?" Seungcheol asked and looked genuinely interested.

"Well, I'm three years older than Arianna and seven years older than Noah."

 

"You guys have such unique names," Seungcheol complimented. "I don't think I've ever heard someone with those names in town. I like them."

 

"Wait till you hear Noah's full name." You chuckled. "He's named after my mom's dying brother; apparently he asked her to name Noah after him. He's Noah Giovanni."

 

Seungcheol lay down on the blanket, his head on top of the small pillow, while his hands were comfortably crossed on his stomach.

 

"Two names? That's not usually the norm here."

 

"It isn't here. I had multiple friends and family members that had more than one name; some even had around three  names."You told him, lying down just like he was, enjoying the way the leaves on the trees were moving with the breeze, and sometimes some sunlight would make a quick appearance here and there.

Seungcheol's eyes were already on you when you turned to the side to see him more comfortably. He sent you a small smile when you both made eye contact.

"What about you? What's your other name?" Seungcheol's arm was under his face, his elbow pointing at you. He offered some orange juice that you accepted happily, sitting for some instants to take a sip of it. Your eyes moved to the water, and you were tempted to take some rocks and throw them in the water.

 

"I don't have any; the only one that has one is my brother." You mumbled, "But my mom told me once that if she could give me a second name, it would have been Isabella."

"You don't have a middle name, do you?" You asked him after some seconds of complete silence.

"No, but why don't you give me one?" He asked, moving forward to get some pancakes that he had told you beforehand had been made by Joshua. He had brought some honey, sugar, and butter to put on it.

"Me?" You asked with a chuckle. "I'm sad to inform you that my naming skills are not that good. I called a bunny pet that we had for a little bit of jumping because it jumped around a lot, and that's on my list of top-named objects and animals."

"Good thing to know that I'm not an object, then," he laughed. "Go ahead; if it's terrible, then the name would never leave this place."

"Seungcheol Oliver." You announced it proudly. It was the name of one of your childhood plushies that you sadly lost years ago in one of your family's moves to a new house.

"Oliver?" Seungcheol chuckled, nodding his head, satisfied. "Alright, I like it."

You took a bite of one of the brownies that were carefully placed on a plate, taking another sip of the orange juice. "Today's such a beautiful day." You sighed happily, closing your eyes when some breeze touched your face, moving your hair out of your face and out of your shoulders. Thankfully, it was already dry, and some of your curls have finally started to form in your wavy hair.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it." Seungcheol replied happily, and you could swear you had heard a purr coming from somewhere. "How do you say that in Italian?"

"Oggi è una bellissima giornata." You told him slowly so he could catch the pronunciation of each word. He copied the sound as closely as possible, but his tickling accent made it a little bit funny to hear. You guessed that was probably how you sounded speaking in Korean as well.

"I wish I could speak Italian as well; it sounds so beautiful." Seungcheol sighed.

"But you do speak more than one language." You encouraged him, "Don't you?"

"I understand a little bit of English because one of my brothers speaks English, and I can introduce myself in Chinese as well. I can name random objects too, like doors or water."

"Teach me how to say Hello, my name's Seungcheol. I feel bad whenever I go to your family's bakery and your mom's the one attending it because I just can't say anything to her."

"Wouldn't it be easier if I told you how to ask for what you want to buy instead? I'm pretty sure my mom will know your name by now." You told him, trying not to laugh as you remembered what had happened earlier in your house.

"One thing at a time," he told you. Instead, his eyes were looking at you with such sparkle that you felt something warm run throughout your body, making you smile without realizing it.

And so you continued the rest of the afternoon eating and talking. Seungcheol seemed to try to memorize every Italian word that came out of your mouth with great effort, and sometimes, when he thought you were distracted by throwing crumbs of homemade bread to the small fish swimming near where you were in the lake, you heard him practicing in whispers the pronunciation of those words.

 

"It's getting late," you yawned. You had no sign of trying to stand up because you really didn't want the afternoon to end.

"Do you have to go home already?" Seungcheol asked, his face not making the slightest attempt to hide the disappointment behind his face.

 

"Yes," you sighed, just as sad as Seungcheol. The afternoon had passed so quickly that you were surprised as the sun began to set to give way to night. Time seemed to have flown by in the blink of an eye, and what had left you most pleased was that you had felt so comfortable around him. "My mom will scold me if I don't come back now. This Sunday, she won't let me eat the lasagna she's been anticipating for us since last week." You smiled at him.

 

Seungcheol nodded, understanding. "I'll walk you home, then. It's getting late, and it can be quite dangerous to walk at this time alone. Come on." He was standing up, his palm facing you, as he was waiting for you to take it and stand up as well.

His skin felt a little rough to the touch; there were some calluses on it, and a cut you had just noticed was still healing. A soft layer of pinker skin covered it. It was much warmer than your icy hands, and the warmth spread through the rest of your body, especially on your rosy cheeks, as I let him hold yours firmly.

 

A hiss interrupted the moment as Seungcheol let go of your hand with a great leap backwards. The movement had been so sudden that it made you stagger, landing you on your buttocks.

 

"Cavolo!" You swallowed your cry of pain, biting your lower lip, as your hands shot up in his direction, your knees digging into Jeonghan's blanket. "Are you okay?" You asked worriedly, your voice rising a little higher than you had intended. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to touch your wound; is it bleeding? Are you in a lot of pain?"

 

You felt incredibly embarrassed and guilty about what had happened. Seungcheol had been an angel to you, and you had only returned a wound.

Seungcheol kept his hand clenched with his other hand; his knuckles had turned white from the force he was using to put pressure on the wound. The muscle in his arm was strained, and some of his veins had been marked on his wrist.

Seungcheol was bent forward, snarling slightly.

"I'm fine." He replied that his voice had become a mixture of a whisper and a growl.

"Are you sure? Let me see! God, I'm so sorry," you continued, standing up and approaching him. Seungcheol turned the other way, preventing you from seeing his palm.

"Yeah! It doesn't hurt that much; don't worry." He breathed out, his eyes were closed into two lines, and his lip was being attacked by his upper teeth.

"Well, it doesn't seem like that; don't be stubborn and let me see!" Your hand pushed Seungcheol with all your strength, attempting to turn him around, but it didn't phase him at all. "Seungcheol." You insisted.

He turned around, checking how much it hurt when he started applying less and less pressure to it.

His hand was so red you would have thought he had put it straight into the fire; his burns looked third-degree, and there were already distinct blisters around a perfect circle on the inside of it.

 

The circle was a perfect copy of your silver ring.

 

"Che cazzo?! I think you should put your hand in the water. Doesn't it burn?"

"No, no, that's it. It hardly hurts anymore; we should go back; you should be home before your mother scolds you."

Seungcheol put all the things in his backpack, biting his tongue when some things brushed against the wound on his hand. Luckily, to ease some of the guilt you felt, he allowed you to help him put it away.

Seungcheol escorted you home as promised, and before you went inside, he grabbed you by the wrist with the hand that was still intact.

"Thank you for agreeing to hang out today; I had a great time with you."

"I had a great time as well; it was really fun! I'm sorry again for hurting you." You mumbled, moving your feet and avoiding his eyes. "But I promise I'll make sure to bring some pastries the next time as an I'm sorry present."

"Next time?" Seungcheol replied with a big smile, and his fingers softly brushed away some hair that was brushing against your eyes.

"Well yeah, if you want to. But I might have to warn you; my siblings will come as well." You joked.

"I'll bring some of my friends as well, then. I bet our youngest will want to make friends."

The door suddenly opened, and a woman slightly taller than you was standing up with both of her hands on her hips, looking at you angrily.

"Dove diavolo eri? è passato il tempo in cui ti dicevo di tornare! Perché sei andato nella foresta quando ci sono state così tante voci su lupi mannari e bestie pericolose?"

You had no idea how I had discovered that you had been in the woods without one of your siblings ratting you out, but none of them knew (at least as far as you knew) where they were going to meet; not even you knew where they were going until they arrived at the picnic already arranged.

You felt a little embarrassed with your mother mentioning the supposed werewolf in front of Seungcheol, but looking at him for a few seconds, he seemed to be as lost as you were.

"Should I apologize?" Seungcheol asked you; his eyes were wide open, and suddenly his posture was perfect.

"No, I think you'd better leave. We can arrange our next friend's outing these days; come to the bakery anytime you want. I still owe you a treat as an apology."

Seungcheol said goodbye to you with a smile, and in a few minutes he was already disappearing through the forest.

The pain in his chest began to increase proportionally as he moved farther away from you.

But he tried to omit it; he had been with you for hours, and by now that should be enough for his wolf.

We'll see you the next day.

The burn on his hand still burned, and he just wanted to get home so someone could treat the wound. He had been such an idiot; he should have paid more attention to your silver accessories. Who else if he didn't want to end up dead before he confessed to you that he was a werewolf and that you were his mate?

Seungcheol came home with a contented vibration in his chest.

It had been a good day.

[medusaoddball]

when i was a small child my family and i used to go to the seaside on holiday together and whenever we went to the bathrooms we would walk past a silent hill arcade shooter game and I was i think both scared of and in awe of the game??? or scared then later on in awe? idk. i specifically remember it had the stripey dog monsters in the game. Idk if those are canon to the non-arcade silent hill games but i remember them being there. They kinda reminded me of the stripey cgi dog in that one noah's arc live action film? I remember seeing it on christmas day once when i was a little older than then but still much younger than now. I was sad because the dog in the movie was dying and i assume i felt the same somewhat for the dogs in the silent hill arcade game. anyway eventually one day the machine was gone when we went past where it used to be and in present day I kind of regret never playing it but whatever oh well now I have itch.io and my roblox slop.

This is why you never poke the bear, Jeremiah.

i’m sorry i’ve atoned for my sins

[winterandwords]

📝 Contextual use of physical description and how it informs a character's identity

THIS IS NOT WRITING ADVICE! At its core, I guess it's about showing-not-telling, but I'm not into issuing instructions. There are no rules here.

It's an approach I take in my own writing that I've thought a lot about, refined over years, and am sharing because it might be useful or relevant to other people. I am in no way saying this is the only way or the best way or the way that will suit your story or your characters. It's the way that suits my stories and my characters. OK? OK.

I use physical descriptions very sparingly and rarely outright state someone's height, build, hair colour, or eye colour. When those traits are mentioned, it's usually from another character's perspective - what would they notice and why? I tend to refer to physical traits only when they inform a character's personality and experience in relation to the story.

This is partly because I love the idea of readers imagining my characters how they see them. Do I have a clear image in my head of every character I write? Yes. Do you have to have the same image in your head? No. It's also just a matter of preference. I don't particularly connect with straight-up physical descriptions of characters in stories. They're not bad or wrong. They're just not really something that clicks in my head as significant when presented as a list of details.

Example: Noah from November Breaks and Spin Cylinder

So what does he look like?

Noah is in his mid-forties at the beginning of November Breaks and getting closer to fifty in Spin Cylinder. He's 6ft 4 with a muscular build and broad shoulders. He has greying dark hair that's short in the flashback parts of November Breaks and longer in the later parts. He grows a beard before the present-day section of November Breaks. His eyes are dark blue. He's conventionally very attractive. Does he look like a big, built Jeffrey Dean Morgan in my head? Yes. Does he have to look like that in anyone else's head? No.

(Did I choose his height because that's my spouse's height and it's really handy to have a living human reference for height, build and physical strength so I can ask someone things like "Could you lift that?" etc? Also yes. Welcome to why that specific height and build shows up in my MCs more than once)

At no point do I outright state any of those descriptive traits (apart from his eye colour, but we'll get there in a minute). So how do I show them?

People get out of Noah's way in the street. He's accustomed to it but feels not-so-great about it sometimes, suggesting that it relates to a consistent aspect of his appearance.

He feels uncomfortable in small spaces, for example, not feeling like he fits right at tables in cafes (borrowed from my spouse's experiences and something I would never have thought about on my own because I'm 5ft 2)

He can physically overpower other adult men easily and doesn't feel intimidated or threatened by objectively threatening people or situations, even when there are weapons involved.

He can move corpses around without much effort.

Brett's first impression of him is He could really hurt me (desirable) with the observation that he looks like "someone who could throw a heavy punch" and has "shoulders that could hold up the world" and "arms that could crush the breath from my lungs and stop my mind from racing" (Brett is a very poetic masochist)

Brett also mentions "Silver like the strands interrupting the dark of your hair" when he's remembering a grounding exercise that involves counting things of a chosen colour.

Perry flirts shamelessly with him, refers to "Those big blue eyes" and asks if he used to model with "You look like an advert for everything you’re wearing" (Perry is a delightful twinky surfer who is one of the lighter elements of the books and a joy to write)

Noah is neither surprised nor flattered that someone assumes he might have been a model when he was younger, showing that he's accustomed to moving through the world as A Handsome Man rather than being perceived that way by one person who happens to find him attractive.

Growing his hair and beard is part of an attempt to distance himself from Clichéd Contract Killer Aesthetic. These traits are first referenced by Max, who has known him for years, as recent changes at the beginning of November Breaks, and Noah talks about them as aspects of his appearance that he struggles to reach decisions about or make peace with.

His mid-life crisis is also referenced at the very beginning of November Breaks, giving a suggestion of his age.

He goes to the gym. It's about routine and control, not about looking a certain way, but it still indicates what his physical build is likely to be especially when combined with Brett's descriptions of him.

Another layer of connection between his appearance and personality is that he never once describes himself as being good-looking, fit, strong etc or shows that he values those traits. Why does this matter?

Trope subversion, my beloved! Noah could easily be perceived as an aggressively no-homo big macho meathead tough guy based on his appearance and his job, but he isn't. At all. He is, in fact, 100% pro-homo, charming and polite, and has extremely refined tastes, valuing luxury not for status but for quality.

His observations of other people rarely relate to specific physical traits. Rather, he compulsively notices how people behave and how they connect with their environment and the people in it. How everyone else looks is mostly irrelevant to him. How he looks is mostly irrelevant to him too.

This isn't as much to demonstrate depth (this isn't a "not like other men" situation, I promise) as it is to show the privilege inherent in not having to care about his own looks because he's always been perceived as attractive. This exists in contrast to Brett, who is fully aware of the power of his appearance and knowingly uses it to his advantage at every available opportunity.

If you want to see any of this in action, November Breaks lives on Tumblr at @novemberbreaksbywintersimpson. Spin Cylinder's WIP info is here (correct as of August 2023) and snippets can be found in my #spin cylinder tag.

That's it for now!

I have lots of topics like this that I could happily ramble about if anyone's interested. I really don't want to come across like I'm telling other people how to write or suggesting that I know better than anyone else - I'm not and I don't. I'm just an obsessive weirdo who thinks a lot about everything.

Let me know if you'd be interested in similar posts in future about other aspects of how I build characters and stories 💜