#of it (new mutuals so to clarify not in a 'why is there so many black people' wasy as im certsin some freaks felt. i was mostly uncomfy

[violentdevotion]

if u see me watchmen oc posting no u didnt

my eyes are closed. so long as you can forgive me in 2 days when i stop posting about watchmen and start incessantly posting about something else

[adragonofthings]

Scam blogs (and how to spot them)

Unfortunately, scams do exist on tumblr. That is why it’s key to always try to search around when someone’s sent you a request for mutual aid. Not every account is trying to scam you and for the most part there is legitimate blogs who need your help. Sadly there are also scammers who pretend to be needing mutual aid as well so here is a simple guide to figuring out scams.

How old is the account? The pinned post usually is a good way to tell if the account contacting you is new or old. If you scroll the posts, you should see if they were made around the same time as the account.

How many posts are on the account? Most blogs will have more than just a few posts here and there. After all, a well used blog has thousands of posts for you to look at.

Are there more original posts? Usually someone needing help will have multiple posts of their own instead of a single post that’s pinned. They will also post updates regularly regarding their situation and answer asks clarifying details when necessary.

What does the link on the pinned post say? If it’s a linktree claiming to be a GoFundMe link, that’s something to be suspicious of because it’s likely not. If the link is an actual GoFundMe link that isn’t a linktree link then that usually means the account is legitimate and may have shared posts verifying who they are if you scroll a little.

Is the ask being mass sent to users? While this is done by legitimate accounts too, it’s unfortunately also commonly done by scammers. If you search the ask you got you may find it was sent to multiple accounts across several months and from several different senders with no changes to the overall text itself. Even the formatting errors are not fixed.

Are there any warnings out for the username? Try searching the senders username to see if anyone’s made a post claiming the account is a scam. There should at least be one post about them. If not, it’s likely that they are too new to have been reported yet.

Are you a well known account? How likely is it someone would find you without searching specific tags or posts for users to contact? Think about it. How often does someone send you asks for money that is a relatively new account with only a few reblogs and only one original post? If it’s almost daily, then you should be wary of the asks.

What do you find if you search part of the pinned post in your preferred search engine? If a fundraiser pops up using the same text and doesn’t mention using another mutual aid method, it’s highly likely the blog sending you the ask is impersonating a real person who needs support.

Does the mutual aid post make sense? Some scammers don’t know how medicine works and may list some that don’t work like claimed. They’ll just use whatever sounds ‘right’ without further research. Someone who needs medication will always know what their medicine does they don’t guess because they’ll usually have a doctors paper they go by.

If you have properly recognized a scammer and have fully been able to confirm that their a scammer with enough evidence, please report scam accounts and alert anyone whose shared the scam post.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddie-week.

Long Long Time

Day #3 - Prompt: Mutual Pining | Word Count: 1050 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Steve | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Idiot 4 Idiot, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication, Platonic Stobin, Robin Knows What's Up

It's not one realization. It's several, over and over again. A steady falling, until he's in so deep, there's just nothing to be done about it. 

"Stop pining, dingus," Robin says, and Steve looks up at her and smiles.

"Impossible," he answers.

"Just tell him," she urges, and he shakes his head. Eddie isn't interested. He's made that pretty clear with the distance he's put between them. 

"Nah, that's not cool. He's getting ready to go," Steve says, "no reason to make it uncomfortable now."

"Dingus. No. Stop it. I can promise you Eddie is pining for you just as hard."

Steve shakes his head. He knows that's not true. Steve's tried all his best moves over the last two years, everything he knows, and has nothing to show for it, except a heart that's maybe not gonna be his anymore.

Steve sits on the floor of Wayne's house, and helps box tapes. Eddie's going. He's really leaving, and soon. 

And Steve's sure that's gonna hurt him for a long, long time. 

"So, what're your big plans for this summer, Harrington?" Eddie asks.

Missing you, Steve thinks, but doesn't say.

"Oh, I don't know. Hang out with Rob, I suppose. Find new jobs. You know we like to change it up every so often. Wreak havoc elsewhere."

Eddie laughs, and it makes Steve smile.

"You could come with me, you know," Eddie offers, but keeps looking down at the box he's packing. "Both of you. All of us."

It's not a real offer, Steve knows that. He knows he's supposed to say no, supposed to let Eddie go, without throwing an anchor around his neck. 

"Oh, you don't want that," Steve rebuffs, and Eddie looks up. "I'll cramp your style."

Eddie laughs, "Yeah, you know me. Party animal."

Steve grins, "You might become one. You won't want me tagging along for that."

"But, what if I do?" Eddie asks, and Steve looks up at him.

"Eddie," Steve says, trying to cut this off before he embarrasses himself.

"You're one of my best friends, and we could have fun together."

They could. Steve knows that's true. But he can't go live in an apartment with Eddie. Can't watch him spread his wings and date, right in front of Steve's face. That'd be too hard.

Even if part of Steve wants to say yes, desperately, just to cling onto anything that's being offered.

But he's trying to be better about that. Trying to grow, and shit.

He can only let his heart get trampled so many times, and he's nearing his limit. He definitely won't be able to survive it happening under Eddie's boot.

"C'mon, Steve. For me."

And that almost does it. He hates to deny anything that Eddie might want, but sometimes, you've got to save yourself first. Put on your own life preserver, then worry about everybody else. Robin's taught him that. Or, has at least tried to.

"I can't."

"Why? Robin? I said she can come, too!"

"Because we don't feel the same way about each other, Eddie!" Steve snaps, and Eddie turns into himself, immediately.

"Oh. Oh shit," Eddie says, "I didn't know you knew. Wow, that's embarrassing," he mutters, and it kind of makes Steve mad. 

"I'm not embarrassed. I can't help who I lov-. Like. Whatever. But I just can't torture myself, man. I want you to be happy, I do. And I'm the wrong guy for making that happen, obviously, so let's just leave it. While we're still friends."

Eddie's nodding, still packing, then he's suddenly frozen in place, "Wait. What? You make me the happiest."

"As a friend," Steve clarifies.

"Well, yeah. But, if you were into it, as more, too."

"Wait. What?" Steve asks, repeating the same thing Eddie had just said. This is gonna turn into Who's on First? if they aren't careful.

"I mean," Eddie says, shying away, "I know you aren't interested like that. But I still want you around."

Steve laughs, fucking cackles, like he's crazy. He feels crazy.

Was Robin right all along? Was Eddie doing the same kind of pining, and Steve just never noticed? Fuck.

They are both goddamn idiots, if that's the case.

"Well, don't laugh," Eddie says, and he sounds dejected.

"Wait, Eddie, hold up," Steve says, crawling across the carpet towards him, putting his hand on Eddie's forearm. "Do we have crossed wires here? Do you like me, like me? Like I like you?'

"You like me?" Eddie asks.

"Uh, yeah," Steve admits, "I have for a while, to be honest."

"Jesus H. Christ, we're idiots," Eddie says, pushing his hand into Steve's hair.

"Dinguses, if you ask Robin," Steve says, smiling, and Eddie's so close he could kiss him. 

Steve thinks he will, and leans in, where Eddie meets him halfway. Kissing him, and it's everything, more than Steve hoped it could ever be.

When Eddie pulls back he's smiling, eyes crinkled at the edges, fucking happy.

He looks thrilled, and Steve decides to go all in. In for a penny, in for a goddamn pound.

"I think I'm gonna love you for a long, long time," Steve whispers in a sing-songy way, because even as happy as Eddie looks right now, Steve's still scared his love won't be wanted.

But Eddie just grins even harder.

"What made you think of that song?" Eddie asks, eyes big and bright, almost shiny.

"You hum it all the time," Steve answers, "under your breath. Like it's soothing."

Eddie wraps his arms around Steve's neck, pulling him tighter. Harder. Closer. They're on their knees, so that kind of hurts, but Steve refuses to let him go as Eddie whispers, "It was my mom's favorite song. She'd sing it to me at night."

"Kind of a sad lullaby," Steve says, and Eddie smiles.

"I was kind of a sad little boy," Eddie admits, and Steve runs his hands up and down Eddie's back.

"Well," Steve says, pressing his lips to Eddie's briefly, "if you'll let me, I'm gonna make sure you're not a sad adult."

Eddie kisses him hard at that, and Steve really will. Even if it takes his whole damn life. 

"I'll definitely let you. For a long, long time," Eddie echoes, the beginnings of a promise.

And Steve will take that deal.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!t

The title is from the Linda Ronstadt song of the same name.

[oceaneyesinla]

Umemiya just lends himself so beautifully to my style of making characters all soft and squishy.

Umemiya x F!Reader

Divider by @/cafekitsune

You've got open access to every part of Furin High, thanks to being best friends with the leader. You wander the corridors uninterrupted, greeting everyone you pass with a wave and a smile. At this point, you're an honorary member of Bofurin; spending one too many nights patching up the various injuries they all sustain while protecting the town and giving them a scolding every time.

There's only one place you can't seem to get anywhere near, and that's the little plastic greenhouse at the very end of the rooftop, past all of Ume's planters full of vegetables. You're up on the rooftop all the time; helping Ume with his plants, hoping your heart eyes aren't too obvious as you watch him ramble about the ideal fertilizer mix for his tomatoes. You hang out with the others up there too - gossiping with Tsubaki while you paint each other's nails, or convincing the boys to spar with you. It's a little cruel, but it's so funny when one of them underestimates you, or tries to go easy on you because you're a girl - only to get their ass handed to them.

That one little greenhouse, though, is locked down tighter than a bank vault. The boys have got a sixth sense for when you might be straying even a little too close for their liking. Some of them are more ... subtle in their distraction techniques than others. Kiryu and Suo especially have perfected the art of luring you away - engaging you in conversation so artfully that it's only an hour later that you realise you got a little too close to the greenhouse.

Sakura and Sugishita have never been within a mile of the concept of subtlety, but their efforts are so earnest you allow them to tug you away with muttered excuses of needing you elsewhere.

It seems to be some mutual agreement between every single member of Furin, and you have to admire their single-minded determination. You're not even mad; you figure Ume will tell you what's in there at some point. It's probably some kind of special turnip, or a new variety of lettuce that he's heard is particularly good for barbeques.

*************

Ume <3 16:43: Meet me on the rooftop at 20:00 Ume <3 16:43: I'll walk you home after, don't worry

It's adorable that he still feels the need to clarify that, as if he ever does anything different. It's a routine, one you cherish. You hang out at the school or at Cafe Pothos, or at a local restaurant, then once you're done, he walks you back to your house; waiting patiently at the end of the path until you shut the front door behind you.

If you spend an hour and a half trying to decide on an outfit, that's between you and your mirror. You decide on something comfortable but cute; after all, you have no idea what Ume's planning. Some little part of you is hoping for something romantic, but you try to push it down - you've been friends with Ume for years, and he's never once treated you as anything other than a trusted friend.

The rooftop door pushes open with a familiar creak, and you stifle a laugh when Ume flinches, turning to you with wide eyes as if he wasn't waiting for someone to open the door.

You're surprised when his eyes trail over your outfit, and even more surprised when a pretty red flush paints across his cheeks. He looks more flustered than you've ever seen him, and for his sake, you choose not to mention it.

"Why did you want to meet me, Ume?"

He steps closer, seemingly recovered from his little fright even though that blush remains on his cheeks. He leans in and you hold your breath as his lips brush against the skin of your cheek. His smile as he pulls away is nothing short of gorgeous, and you can feel heat rising in your face as you stare up at him.

"You look beautiful." His boyish grin remains in place as he takes your hand, giving it a little squeeze as he leads you, "I've got something I want to show you."

You can practically see his tail wagging as you walk across the rooftop, and you already know where he's taking you. You can't help but tease him, "I finally get to see what's in the mystery greenhouse, huh?"

The look he shoots you is adorable; like a kid caught with their hand in a cookie jar, and you can't stop the giggle that escapes you, "Everyone here has been keeping me away from that thing for weeks, Hajime. I thought Sugishita-kun was going to carry me away from it."

Ume lets out a laugh of his own, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, "I guess they figured out what I was planning."

You tug on his hand, soft smile slipping onto your face as you meet his eye and speak in a low voice, not wanting to disturb the atmosphere building between you, "Come on. I want to see."

When you stand in front of the greenhouse, small but well-constructed, he gestures for you to push aside the plastic flap over the door. You do so, and what greets you has tears welling in your eyes.

Your favourite flower. You remember lamenting to Ume, once, about the difficulty in cultivating the delicate yet beautiful plant, and the love you had for its rich colour and pretty leaves. Now it was right in front of you, and your best friend grew it just for you.

He's shuffling by your side when you turn to him, looking more nervous than he has all night, and your voice is a little rough when you speak, "You grew my favourite flower."

"I did."

"This must have taken so much effort."

"It was worth it to see you smile." His smile is stunning and lovesick and you can see your own heart eyes reflected right back at you and suddenly, you're struck with the realisation that maybe you haven't been pining alone all this time.

His hand comes up to cradle your cheek and in a whisper, he asks, "Can I kiss you?"

Your voice fails you, so you nod instead, letting your eyes flutter closed as he leans in, pressing his lips to yours. They're a little chapped, but you don't care. His other hand moves to rest on your waist, and yours cling to the fabric of his shirt. The kiss is short, but you still feel breathless when you pull apart; awestruck and overflowing with love.

He's staring down at you like you hung every star in the sky, and he looks just as giddy as you feel. He leans down to kiss your forehead, hands resting securely on your waist, "Does this mean you'll be my girlfriend?"

"Yeah, I'll be your girlfriend, Hajime."

His laughter is relieved as he rests his forehead against yours, "It would have been awkward if you said no after all that."

"You really put in all that effort just for me?" Your voice is soft, meant only for the space between the two of you.

"There's no just if it's you." You're not sure he even realises the impact his words are having; speaking as casually as he ever does as if he's not speaking love into the world with every word, "Plus, I've been trying to think of a way to ask you out for months. I wanted it to be perfect."

This man - you know you'll find new ways to fall in love with him every day, "It is perfect. I love you, Hajime."

Your murmured confession makes his breath hitch, and when you meet his eyes, they're sparkling like the stars in the night sky enveloping you both. He meets your proclamation with one of his own, hushed and adoring. He leans in to kiss you again, and you know that this is love.

[targaryenmarvel]

A Stark Legacy (2)

Wanda Maximoff x Stark!Reader

Summary: The life of a Stark is tumultuous, especially when you are the only daughter of the technology magnates. You find yourself at a crossroads, struggling to meet your father's towering expectations while also pursuing your desires. This turning point is marked by the arrival of a certain green-eyed girl, a meeting that not only disrupts your world but also sets your heart on fire. Will you finally follow your heart or conform to your father's expectations?

Warnings: Language, Homophobia, Sexism

Word count: 2,971

New York City bustled in the early morning hours as cars clogged the streets and pedestrians filled the sidewalks, commuting to and from work. You had long faced this predicament while commuting to and from Stark Industries, enduring the long traffic even when you had a driver. It had stopped bothering you, especially when you moved to a penthouse closer to the building.

Dressed in a refined suit, you strutted into the building, heading straight to your office. Agatha Harkness, your assistant, greets you with a steaming cup of coffee and the day's newspaper. "Good morning, Y/N."

"Morning, Agatha." You took a sip of the drink, walking towards your desk. "What do we have on the schedule for today?"

"9:30 a meeting with a Hammer Industries representative. 12 a board meeting. Lunch with Mr. Barnes at 1:30, a conference call with Stark Fujikawa at 2:45, and a meeting with General Talbot on licensing Stark products at 4. We also have the interviewees for my replacement coming in later today."

"You can take care of the interviews, can you, Aggie?" You asked in a honeyed voice. Although posed as a question, you knew she would do it as instructed. Yet you gave her a semblance of choice due to the close relationship you had developed over the years—a connection based not only on mutual understanding and trust but also affection.

"All right, I'll sacrifice my valuable time," Agatha responded, biting her lip as she sat in one of the many chairs and clasped her hands on the desk. "Now, give me the tea. How's the wedding planning?

You groaned, dropping the newspaper you held and reclining in the chair.

"Two weeks, and they're already driving me crazy. My mother and my soon-to-be mother-in-law," you clarified. "Bombarding me with questions at all hours. 'Y/N, how many guests are you inviting? Where will the wedding be? Do you have a dress in mind?' Why ask if they'll disregard what I say and do the opposite."

"How is that?" Agatha cocked her head, furrowing her brows at your stressed demeanor. She had expected happiness and excitement at your pending nuptials.

You spun your chair to face the vast window wall, which gave you a perfect city view. Seeing the city's vastness made you feel small, yet simultaneously reminded you of your place in the world at the top of society, a burden that followed you like a shadow.

"Bucky and I wanted a small wedding. Only family and close friends, but a Stark and a Barnes must have an extravagant wedding. Event of the year, right?"

Agatha sighed sympathetically. It wasn't the first time your father had overlooked your wishes to favor the more socially appealing action to enhance the family's public perception and reputation. She'd seen the faux smiles each time.

"Unfortunately," Agatha replied. "But it's still your wedding. Make the most out of it. After all, you only get married once."

"Once? I could end up divorcing and remarrying," you joked with a smile as you turned back toward her.

"Perhaps, but I doubt it."

"Me too," you agreed, returning to your daily paper as you considered your future with Bucky.

Given the nature of your actual relationship, it is an unconventional union, yet you could not envision marrying anyone else. Once upon a time, you dreamed of finding love, but it crashed with continuous disappointment. You remember the first time it happened at just sixteen as you overheard a conversation between your then-boyfriend and a so-called friend. He pushed her against the wall, and she let him despite acting reluctant.

"You're dating, Y/N," she said.

"Yeah, so? We all know I'm not dating her for her personality. The only interesting thing about her is her money," he responded, kissing her neck, and she chuckled before pulling him into a kiss.

Bucky snuck into your room that night, holding you in his after a distressed call. You had done the same for him the night he had confessed his sexuality to you a year later. It wasn't something you had considered before despite admiring multiple women. You had always assumed you would marry a man, but as Bucky confessed, something clicked. From then on, it was something that brought you closer together, protecting eachother.

Your families could medal all they wanted; all that mattered was that you would spend the rest of your life with a man you loved. Yes, not romantic love, but a love that made you both happy.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Today was not Wanda Maximoff's day.

Despite triple-checking her alarm the night before, the phone had not rang. The damn thing had automatically updated overnight and disabled her alarm. Wanda would have slept through half the day if not for her roommate. Now, Wanda found herself frantically rushing through her apartment with a toothbrush in her mouth and a singular high heel in her left hand. The corners of her blouse were untucked from the navy blue pencil skirt as she turned down the apartment in search of the other heel.

She felt her insides turning, anxiety filling her body the longer she scrambled around without success. I can't screw this up, Wanda thought, feeling her eyes burn with unshed tears. She had worked so hard for this opportunity. At 23, Wanda accomplished her dream and graduated with a business degree. Eager to put her degree to use, Wanda applied for various positions. Yet, she soon came to a crushing realization. No one wanted to hire a recently graduated student with no experience in the field. An entry-level position actually meant, "Do you have ten years of experience in the field?"

Wanda settled for jobs unrelated to her expertise, jumping from secretarial jobs at sales companies. What else could she do? Her family lived across the country, and she had expenses to pay. Wanda needed a job.

Throughout the years, she tried applying for better jobs but continued to be rejected. The one time she got a job offer, it came from a pervy man, and Wanda would rather not. On the verge of abandoning her quest, Wanda found her saving grace late at night at a bar when she collided with a stranger—a redhead beauty with striking green eyes and a witty tongue—on the dance floor. They quickly struck up a conversation trading numbers at the end of the night.

Three years into their friendship, Natasha's girlfriend had gotten Wanda an interview with the most prominent technological company—an assistant job, but a start into something bigger. Wanda was sure she would be able to demonstrate her capabilities and earn a better position.

Wanda's panic was warranted, considering her future depended on making a good impression, and running late was not a good start.

"Darcy, have you seen my heels?" Wanda called out in a muffled voice, trying to keep in the paste.

"What?" her roommate yelled back from her room.

Wanda rolled her eyes and spit out the paste. "My heels."

"Oh, yeah." She heard scuffling from the room next door before Darcy appeared with the missing pair. Wanda sighed in relief, hugging the shoe to her chest, and fixed Darcy with a glare.

"I've been losing my mind trying to fucking find this heel, and you had it all this time?" Wanda accused.

Darcy stepped back and lifted her hands in defense of Wanda's accusations. "First off, you dropped them in my room the last time you passed out drunk in there, and second, you have others!" She noted as if it weren't obvious.

Wanda rolled her eyes and lifted the heels in one hand. "Well, I wanted these," she countered, annoyance lacing her tone.

"Wanda, calm down. Take a breath." Darcy inhaled deeply and then released the air, instructing Wanda to do the same, and she complied. "I understand this interview is important, but you cannot let the nerves interfere with your composure. Wanda Maximoff is strong, confident, and composed, so be it."

Wanda nodded, clutching her bottom lip between her pearly teeth and staring at the floor. She dropped her shoulders, dissipating all the accumulated muscle tension.

"You're right. I need to calm down." She lifted her gaze, eyes crinkled full of remorse for her outburst. "I'm sorry about—"

"Hey, don't sweat it," Darcy patted Wanda's shoulder as she walked past her on her way out. She turned her head as she opened the door. "I'll be home late. Jane's working me to the bones, but text me how it goes."

"I will," Wanda yelled, less anxious.

Though she would occasionally peek at the ticking clock, she continued getting ready without a hitch, applying her makeup and styling her brown locks.

Wanda left the apartment with forty minutes to spare and arrived at Stark Industries with five. Exiting her Uber, she could only gawk at the massive tower, eyes twinkling in hope as she imagined her future at the company.

Wanda confidently strode into the vast entrance area, her eyes scanning every inch of the space. The high ceiling and grandiose decor made her feel small and unimportant, and her anxiety returned to full force as she stopped before the reception desk. belonging

"Hello," Wanda called, fidgeting with the bag strap perched on her shoulder as she checked the time on her phone. Three minutes. The blonde lifted her gaze from the monitor, staring at Wanda expectantly. "I'm here for an interview. I'm Wanda Wanda Maximoff."

The blonde woman hummed while obnoxiously chewing on her gum. "What department?" she asked in a flat tone.

Could she be any more unprofessional? Wanda thought, on the verge of rolling her eyes; if this was the bar for working at Stark Industries, then she certainly had a chance.

"Oh, um, it's a personal assistant position," Wanda answered, retaining her composure.

"Just a moment." The woman picked up the phone, and Wanda rocked on her heels, impatiently glancing around.

She took better notice of her surroundings: the orchid vases settled on the reception desk and the rectangular tinted window behind it, which Wanda assumed was used by security. Slightly to the right, glass double doors flanked by rose pots led further into the building. The high ceiling measured up to three floors, and in between the second and third floor, rectangular glass windows lined the corridor every so many feet, giving a view of the lobby. The place exuded life as people entered and exited. She couldn't wait to see what other wonders this place had for her.

Wanda became too entranced and startled when the receptionist called her name. She turned with a flushed face and felt glad when the blonde woman did not look at her but instead gave her directions while staring at her computer screen. Without a second thought, Wanda rushed to the elevator, nearly bumping into the exiting bodies. She focused on the digital screen, which displayed the floor number as the elevator ascended: five, ten, twenty, and the count when on. The brunette could not stop tapping her foot as it halted to let people in or out. She had to go before it became too late.

As soon as the elevator opened, Wanda rushed through the hall, following the receptionist's instructions, going past cubicles and small offices. Already late, she thought as she came upon a vacant "L" shaped desk separated from the others, giving a cue to the importance of the occupant. Her eyes settled on the giant Stark Industries logo behind the desk, desperately trying to quell her apprehension at the lack of activity—no one to greet her as the receptionist had promised.

Busy leveling her heavy breathing from nearly running, Wanda did not notice a figure approaching from an adjoining room to the side. "Ms. Maximoff, I presume," called a voice from behind. Wanda turned quickly, feeling the muscles in her neck protest at the action. Her gaze was met with an elegantly dressed and stunning dark-haired woman. Though she seemed older than herself, Wanda thought it only amplified her beauty.

"Yes, that would be me," she rubbed her hand against her skirt, wiping the forming sweat. "I sincerely apologize for my belatedness. Getting here was a hassle, but I promise it's a one-time-only problem," Wanda hastily excused.

"Oh, don't apologize." The woman waved off dismissively. "We've all been there before."

At her words, Wanda could breathe freely for the first time since arriving at the building.

"Thank you..." she drew out, scrunching her brows, waiting for the woman to say her name.

"Agatha Harkness, sweetheart," she replied, extending her hand in greeting. Wanda blushed at the term as she shook the older woman's hand. "I'm Ms. Starks' assistant. I'll be conducting your interview today. Oh, don't look so glum," Agatha joked, noticing Wanda's apprehension at the mention of being the interviewer.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Wanda cried. Already making a bad impression, she thought. "I didn't mean to—"

Agatha gave a belly laugh, silencing Wanda in the middle of her sentence. "Oh, I'm joshing with you. You have nothing to worry about, dear. Let's go into the conference room. We can continue there," Agatha said with a smile that crinkled her eyes, and Wanda felt momentarily hypnotized by the sight.

Agatha led Wanda into a room with a large oval table from the left. She was surprised she hadn't seen Agatha before, considering the only thing separating the two areas was thin glass walls.

As the interview progressed, Wanda could not help but feel foolish for overthinking. While Agatha asked her the typical questions, she occasionally diverted from the subject, joking around and talking about herself, which eased Wanda's nerves.

They were going on about Agatha's college days when she gasped in delight as she looked through the glass panel. "Oh, look dear," Agatha instructed, nodding, and Wanda turned in her seat, her sight resting on a woman.

She couldn't make out the woman's features as her back was turned, so she let her eyes roam over the expensive-looking gray suit. The attire perfectly hugged her figure, and the confident aura surrounding the woman entranced observers. She ran a hand through her hair as the other held a phone to her ear, looking down at something on Agatha's desk. As the stranger pulled her hair out of her face, Wanda caught a glimpse of the woman's features. A jolt coursed through her body, and her face reddened at the sight. Attractive, she's so damn attractive, Wanda mused, eyes settling on the woman's exposed neck as she looked upward in apparent desperation. Wanda couldn't help fall for the enchantment of her imposing beauty and authority.

"That's Ms. Stark," Agatha informed from her side, recalling her attention. "Intimidating, I know, but looks can be deceiving. Y/N's a real sweetheart... most of the time," she chuckled fondly, peering at the figure crossing the wooden office doors. Wanda gave a forced smile, mind racing at her strange reaction. "Anyhow, I've kept you here long enough, dear. I'm sure you have better things to do than hear me rant about how I joined a witch coven in college. I'll talk with Ms. Stark and let you know when a decision is made."

"Oh, okay," Wanda stood from her seat. It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Harkness."

"All, mine, dear."

When Wanda walked out of Stark Industries, her mind screamed three things: Thank God it's over; I think I did well; and OMG, did I check my possibly future boss out?

When Natasha mentioned she would be working with a Stark, she assumed it would be Tony, the oldest Stark child. Not the magnate's youngest daughter, who seemed to receive the least media coverage.

Wanda doesn't think she had heard her name before Agatha's mention. Y/N, even her name, is beautiful, Wanda mused, walking down the streets of New York.

You released a heavy sigh, slumping in your office chair, and closed your eyes, vexed after your ten-minute conversation with Justin Hammer. The Hammer Industries CEO called you after receiving your refusal to collaborate with said company. Not without a few stipulations, he continued to object to. You were tired of his persistent demands.

A soft knock reverberated through the room before the door opened, and Agatha entered with a sympathetic smile.

"Rough call?"

"Yup," you responded, rubbing your temples. "Justin Hammer. I'm letting Tony handle it next time."

"Hopefully, nobody gets hurt," Agatha said, and you cracked a smile.

"Hopefully, Tony lands a few good punches. I'm tired of that prick's face," you jested, imagining Justin Hammer sprawled on the floor with a broken nose. You bit your lip, suppressing a laugh as Agatha placed a few folders on your desk. "What are these?" You opened the first one, only to find a picture of a blonde woman and a few documents behind.

"Oh, resumes of the girls I interviewed. I thought I'd let you take a look."

"Hhm, that won't be necessary. I trust your judgment." You closed the folder, pushing the stack. "I'm sure I'll be content with whoever you choose, Aggie."

"Alrighty! Then, I'm happy to inform you I've made my decision."

You quirked an eyebrow, resting your chin on your clasped hands. "Have you now? Who's the lucky candidate?"

"Wanda Maximoff. You might have seen her in the conference room when you returned."

our

You furrowed your eyebrows, humming as you rested back on the chair. You did catch sight of Agatha with another woman, yet it was only for a second. Too entrapped by frustration, you failed to take any actual notice of the woman.

"Her file's the last one in the stack if you want to look at it," Agatha suggested at your lack of response.

"Later. Let's prepare for the conference call with Stark Fujikawa."

Later never came. The file remained unopened while you went on with your obligations.

Taglist: @sgm616 @xxsekhmet

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

requests: “remus on a first date with shy reader?” and “maybe Remus lupin with a plus size reader? just if you’re comfy with it of course! thanks!”

fluffy 🐈 first date

pairing: Remus x reader

tags / description: shy! reader, plus size! reader, anxious! reader, reader insecurities, but these in a somewhat toned down way; sweet and fluffy; first date, first kiss; not proofread, sorry!

word count: 1.9k

Why couldn’t he have asked you out during winter?

You’re standing in front of the mirror, finishing fixing your hair for your date, but you can’t help but keep glancing down. Your arms are bare; your top is loose, but somehow your sides manage to look chubby anyway. 

But it was so bloody hot out. You were not going to put yourself through a miserable time just to cover yourself up. Besides, you’d known Remus a while, had mutual friends. He knew what you looked like. And he’d asked you out anyway. 

At least, you think he had. You’d been sure in the moment, but afterward, when you started overthinking (and panicking), you’d begun having doubts this was a date. He’d asked you to “hang out” on Saturday, but he had clarified that he meant just the two of you. You’d been too shy to ask any further questions.

You try to exhale the negative thoughts away, and right as you go to check the time, you hear a knock at your door. Your stomach drops — whether in nerves or excitement, you’re not sure. When you open it, Remus’s brilliant smile intensifies the feeling. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you whisper back. You step out of your place but trip on the threshold. Remus quickly catches you, one of his arms snaking around your middle.

“You okay?” he chuckles gently. His hand lingers on your side even after you’re steady, and the self-consciousness butterflies war with the lovestruck ones.

You’re mortified at how quickly you’d managed to be awkward. Your cheeks burn, and you wish desperately you could hit a reset button like you did the many times you imagined this scenario in your head.

“‘M fine. Sorry,” you smile shyly, unable to look him in the eyes.

“’S alright.” He sounds kind, at ease. “You ready?”

You nod and follow him outside. As soon as the hot sun hits you, you’re grateful for your outfit. There’d been too many other times you’d endured the heat instead, and you’re glad with your progress of loving and taking care of yourself as you are. Without thinking, you smile at yourself at the thought. You’re startled by Remus’s chuckle next to you. His eyes on you burn more than the summer weather.

“What?” you manage.

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, smiling all the while, “that smile was just adorable is all. I’d love to know what’s going on in your head to make you smile like that.”

Ironically, this completely erases your smile. You know it’s impossible, know he’s trying to be sweet; but even still, the embarrassment is overwhelming. 

“What?” You hear the new tension in his voice. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no, sorry, I - I just,” you wince at your awkwardness, “I’m just being stupid.”

“Don’t say that.” Gently, playfully, he bumps your shoulder with his. “You’re great.”

“Thanks,” you respond, but you sound sarcastic. “You are,” he repeats. 

You’re tense but smiling when you ask, “So where are we going?” “It’s a surprise,” he chuckles. “It’s kind of weird. But I saw it and thought of you. Not that you’re weird! I mean, you’re weird in a special way. I mean, I think it’ll be fun. For you. For me as well! Just getting to hang out with you is fun for me, obviously,” he rambles quickly, cringing at the end.

There it is again: “hang out.” What did that mean?

At your silence, he goes on, “Fuck, sorry, I’m just a bit nervous, you know?” He laughs mirthlessly. “You’re nervous?” you reply before you can think about it. “Why would you be nervous? I’m the one who should be freaking out. And am, by the way.”

“Oh, and you have a monopoly on first date nerves, do you?” he shoots back playfully.

“So this is a date?”  Again, it’s out of your mouth before you really realize what you’re saying, and when you do, you’re terrified you’ve asked. His eyes wide, his hand messing with his hair, he replies, “Of course.” Then after a beat, “I mean, I thought it was. If you want it to be, that is…”

“I do!” Too loud. Shit. “I do,” much softer.

“It’s a date then,” he concludes, smiling. You nod. 

Your walking together eases your nerves as you go. Something about the motion, the not having to look at him directly, brings you solace. You’re already worrying about how that’ll change when you reach your destination, but you try to push that away and enjoy the easy chat along the way. 

You love talking to Remus… which is saying a lot. People make you nervous. And Remus isn’t just people. He’s smart, kind, funny, attentive, unreasonably attractive people. But something about the way he listens assuages your anxiety rather than exacerbates it. He makes you feel heard and seen. But never in a way that makes you feel judged. And you love hearing what he has to say in return. Conversation with Remus could be so many things: fun, thought-provoking, surprising, comforting… but never upsetting.

He turns off the high street into a cute side street and stops in front of a surprising establishment. It’s a café. A cat café. 

He looks nervous as he watches for your reaction. Maybe he can’t read it, because he starts another nervous ramble: “We can go somewhere else if you’re not into it. I just thought, well, you know, I know you like cats. And coffee. And not so much talking to people. So, if you got nervous, you could just pet the cats or something. I don’t know. Maybe it was stupid, I just —” 

“I love it,” you interrupt. “You do?” The relief plasters itself across his face. 

“I love it,” you repeat, laughing now. “You’re right. About all that. Everything you just said. And you’re the most thoughtful person I’ve ever met for thinking it.” Your warm smile comes easily now, and the adoring one he gives you in return makes you shyly look away.

He grabs your hand and walks in.

The place is shockingly cosy yet spacious. And crawling with cats. A friendly black cat rubs itself against your leg, and you can’t think of a possibly better first date.

The seats are ridiculously comfortable, and only a couple of minutes in, an adorable ragdoll sitting near you lets you coax him into your lap. He’s incredibly soft, and his purring makes you feel at ease. 

Remus smiles at you, watching you pet the cat, never demanding more attention, but always easily continuing the conversation. He tells you stories, listens to yours, asks you questions, and all the while giggles at the cats’ antics and cuteness. 

He stops petting the cat lounging next to him to take a sip of his tea, and she scolds him, rubbing her head aggressively on his leg. Remus laughs and obliges, and the responding purrs warm your heart.

“She likes you,” you say. “Yeah,” he smiles, petting her. “Not as much as that one likes you,” he chuckles, nodding toward your lap, where your new friend had fallen asleep snuggling you. “He’s got good taste.” 

You give a sincere but strained smile, and not knowing what to say, go to drink some coffee. Your nerves distracting you, you clumsily knock over the cup, spilling some on the cat by Remus. Startled, it hisses and jumps across Remus to get to the ground, scratching him in her hurry across.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You reach over to try and help somehow, but there’s not much you can do, and your hands just dance around him awkwardly. “I’m sorry; I’m so, so sorry,” you keep chanting. 

“It’s fine, really.” “Oh my god,” you mumble, covering your face with your hands.

“Hey, it’s fine; it’s okay,” Remus reassures you, and you feel his hands come to yours. 

He brings your hands away from your face and holds them in his, his thumb running back and forth on your skin. “It’s okay. It’s not a big deal,” he tries to calm you. You want to believe him, but you feel horrible, and another look at the freshly bloody scratch on his arm makes you wince. He sees you looking at it, and releasing one of your hands, he brings his up to your chin, raising it so your eyes meet his. “I’m fine, lovely. It’s just a scratch,” he smiles. “I don’t think it’ll even leave a scar,” he looks down at it. “But, hey, if it does, I don’t even mind. I’ll love to have a reminder of our first date,” he laughs. 

“Yeah, of how I ruined it all,” you retort sadly. “Ugh, it’s not surprising, of course I did,” you look away despite his hand gently holding your chin. “It’s only surprising you wanted it to be a date in the first place.” 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he shushes you gently. “Please stop.” You do, but keep looking down, feeling on the verge of tears. “Hey, look at me, love. Please.” You manage it. “Of course I wanted to be a date. How could I not? Don’t you realize by now I love spending time with you?” “You love spending time with all your friends.” As your insecurities surface, the tears finally do as well. 

“You’re not like all my friends. Actually, you’re not like any of my friends.”

“Yeah, I’m not as cool and outgoing,” you sniffle. And in the softest whisper, you add, “or as pretty. Maybe if I finally lost some weight…”

“You’re breaking my heart here, lovely,” he says, scooting close to you. “You’re so beautiful.” When you try to look away, he gently guides your face back, caressing you and repeating, “So fucking beautiful. And fun and funny. Witty and wicked smart. You don’t have to be outgoing to be those things. Being loud is overrated,” he jokes. “Your quiet is electric. You save the words for the good stuff. And you’re much more expressive than you think,” he chuckles. “It’s subtle, but it’s there. If you look. And I can’t help but look. Fuck, it’s enthralling. You’re enthralling.” A smile, a caress. He squeezes your hand. “So can you please stop being so mean to my favourite person?” he chuckles, moving closer, his eyes piercing yours. You give the slightest nod, and he wipes your tears away, smiling warmly. 

“Sorry,” you whisper.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s okay.” 

His hand lingers on your face even after all your tears are gone. You see his Adam’s apple bob and feel his hand get a bit fidgety in yours. His eyes quickly shoot across your face. They linger on your lips but return to your eyes as he moves closer. You smile at him and move the tiniest bit toward him as well. He smiles back, and you can feel his tension begin to ease at your warmth. It completely melts away when his lips meet yours. Remus tastes slightly of tea when he deepens the kiss. He’s a warmth and comfort you’ve never felt before, and you want to be enveloped in him forever. 

Your forever is cut quite short by the cat from earlier bounding back into his lap, startling you apart. She rubs her head against him, and you both laugh as you pet her. 

Remus’s eyes are cheerful as he’s looking down at her, but when he looks up at you, they fill with a striking brightness and adoration. If eyes that stunning could look at you like that, maybe you could see the beauty they beheld too.

[tmblrcolouredpaper]

Hold my hand, I'm nervous.

Minho likes spending time with you and discovering new aspects of this friendship.

Friendship, Mutual Pining, Domestic Fluff, Nervousness, Comfort, Concert, Protectiveness, Holding Hands, Cold Weather, Clumsiness, Cooking together, Napping, Nightmare, First Sleepover, Platonic Cuddling

⚠️: Body Shaming (by stranger) indicated, Fear of Crowds indicated

wc: 3966

'Hold my hand, I'm nervous.'

He wasn't nervous, not at all, but you know, sometimes he was convinced that lying was completely okay as long as it didn't harm anyone. Besides, he was sure you knew when he was telling the truth and when he wasn't anyway. That's something he loved so much, the comfortability in the friendship with you that caused him to be able to goof off and bullshit around as much as he wanted to.

'You're on a chair not a mountain.', you stated and rolled your eyes in annoyance. The concert was about to start and the fact that you arrived too late to get good spots made you already regret going out this evening.

'Still.', Minho insisted and waved his hand in front of your face until you took it to make him stop.

'Man, that's gonna be one awesome show. I've always wanted to see them live, you know.', he smiled and looked over the mass of people, excitement shimmering in his eyes.

'I know.', you grumbled and remembered why you went out, why you were out in the cold surrounded by people, many drunk, some probably on other drugs, holding his hand even though it was completely unnecessary. Him playing his 'fear of heights'- card was so pretentious that you were almost amused by his preference of saying anything but directly what he wants. Involuntarily, you shook your head and couldn't keep yourself from smiling despite your bad mood. It was silly anyways, especially when Minho was right next to you having the time of his life. His happiness was simply contagious after some time.

Was he able to not look down at you and smile? No, not at all. Did he feel like an idiot, standing on a chair to see the stage, yet having his eyes only on you? Yes, for sure. But it didn't surprise him. He stepped down, tightened his grip on your hand while he did, because he was actually worried that he might lose balance for a second. Once he was stable on the ground, he pretended like he would actually fall and not even he would have expected your reaction of pulling him into your arms immediately.

'I was joking.', he clarified with an embarrassed blush that crept over his cheeks up to his ears. He was pushed away harshly, but your low mumbling, the only word he could comprehend was 'idiot', made him smirk.

'Aaaaw, you thought I was actually falling?', he teased and caressed your cheek, his fingers light and warm on your skin. 'Thank you for always being my saviour, babe.'

'Don't touch my face with your unwashed hands.', you grunted and pushed his arm away.

'So, I wash my hands and can touch you?', he asked, eyes widened in excitement.

'No. Never.', you answered monotonously and crossed your arms in front of you. 'Why did you come down? I thought you wanted to see the stage properly.'

'Want to stand next to you, but you can still hold my hand when you miss it.', he explained without looking at you.

When the concert started he was jumping and dancing, singing along the lyrics and laughed from happiness. The crowd was hyped and even you began to show that you were having fun, actually recognizing a few songs that Minho must have shown you before.

A man next to you kept glancing at you from time to time and you thought it was because you probably looked weird in some sense. You kept wondering if it was your hair or your outfit or your makeup. Every bit of your appearance could have been a reason for someone to express their dislike for it, but in the end no one cares about stuff like this, so you tried your best to ignore his temporary stares and convince yourself that he must have had reasons that weren't under your influence.

'This was awesome. Thank you for coming with me.', Minho laughed after the last song was performed and the band left the stage after several rounds of applause. He took your hand and secured you close to him when everyone became busy leaving the hall.

'Can't lose you.', he said and squeezed your hand, inaudibly assuring you that he was planning on keeping you safe with him.

Many people passed by including the man that kept paying attention to you before Minho decided to leave as well. He saw him, he hated him. Not that he knew him, but the way he kept looking at you and turning to his friend to laugh and joke immediately after scanning you, was enough for him to have an opinion. Minho needed to see him walking away.

'Soooooo, should I bring you home or are you up for chilling at mine?', Minho asked during the walk through the streets, enjoying the fresh air after the concert, his hand still holding yours while playfully swaying them back and forth between your bodies.

'Yours?', you asked happily and he responded, 'Mine?!', sounding just as bright and happy and started laughing.

The fresh air slowly became uncomfortable and Minho started to worry that he might catch a cold. You probably felt the same. Unaware of what he was doing, he pulled you closer to him and immediately heard your teeth clashing against eachother in a fast pace.

'You're an idiot for not bringing a jacket.', he announced and laid his arm around your shoulder.

'You brought me with you. Isn't your task to take care of me then?', you questioned and sneaked your arm around his waist, seeking his warmth, wishing you could just stop walking and push your face in the softness of his shirt.

'No? Since when do you rely on people?', he laughed, but secretly wished he would have been more considered. He would have brought a scarf, a jacket, a whole heater if he'd known you wanted that.

'I don't.', you clarified and took a step away from him, his arm falling off your shoulder.

'Well, I didn't bring a jacket either. That makes two idiots here, hm?, he smiled and pulled you back into his embrace, ignoring your protest.

The apartment complex was soon arrived and Minho held the door open, waiting for you to enter first. He gave you the keys to his apartment and nodded upwards. 'I have to get something from the basement, but go and make yourself comfortable already.'

He heard your steps on the stairs echoing from the empty walls and hurried downstairs to get a pile of his old clothes that he picked up from his parents' house a few days ago. He didn't have any use for them, but thought that you might like them.

When he arrived at his apartment door, he was surprised to find you still standing there, fondling with the keys. Your hands were red and stiff and you visibly struggled to pick the right key, dropping the whole chain clumsily.

'Fuck.', you mumbled and picked them up.

'Let's swap.', Minho announced behind you and gave you the pile while you handed him the key chain. He was even more worried now that you must have been freezing more than he did, so the second he entered the apartment, he went straight to his bedroom and carried the thick blanket to you.

'You go and get cozy in the living room.', he demanded and waited for you to take off your shoes before he pushed you in the direction he wanted you to head to, taking the pile of clothes from you at the same time.

Once he was done washing his hands and grabbing two bottles of water, he followed you, sat down on the floor in front of the sofa where you were curled up into a cocoon, the bottles placed on the small desk. His heart started beating so strongly that he could feel it in his throat. He could just move one meter forward and collect you in his arms, all cozy and close. Just one question, just one agreement and a few moves...

'I need to pee.', you announced, freed yourself from the blanket and went to the bathroom.

It was also just one moment, Minho realised.

The evening proceeded to be just as lacking of conversations as the whole day had already been. You didn't talk much on the way to the concert, the concert itself is no event that provides many talking possibilities and afterwards you two were busy processing all new impressions. Now you spent your time watching dramas, you spread on the sofa and Minho chilling on the floor, head resting on an empty spot of the sofa cushion.

His stomach grumbled and without saying a word he made his way to the kitchen area to cook something. He kept glancing over to you from time to time and the later it got the more he wondered if you would be up for sleeping here. He would like that a lot, he realized and began humming happily when he started imagining how your sheer presence might influence the atmosphere in his apartment.

Suddenly, when he turned to grab a spice on his left, he saw you standing next to him. When did you get up? How long was he actually daydreaming? In panic, he stirred the vegetables in the pan, scared he might have let them burn.

'Can I help with something?', you asked and he was caught off guard by the tiredness in your voice.

'Did you fall asleep?', he asked, genuinely curious, but his voice didn't cooperate and his tone made it sound like he was mocking you.

'Yeah.', you whispered dreamily and sighed.

You seemed happy. He wondered why.

'Good nap?', he questioned and filled some rice in two bowls that were already waiting, while he was working on the greens.

'Hmhmm. Can I help?', you repeated and Minho quickly shook his head, before he could think of verbalizing anything.

'I'll wash the dishes later then.', you shrugged. You didn't move. He found it almost awkward how you were standing in the middle of the room, not initiating of going back to the TV.

'May I smell yo-your shirt?', you whispered, and he dropped the spoon in surprise.

It landed in the pan, and he awkwardly fished it out of the sauce. He carefully laid it down and wiped his hand on a small kitchen towel.

'What?', he finally asked, baffled.

'It's just, your blanket. Like, I want to know if it's the smell of your laundry detergent or you.', you explained, fumbling with the hem of your own shirt.

'The smell?', he didn't understand.

'If the smell comes from the detergent, you need to tell me which brand and scent you're using. I swear, I haven't slept this well for months.', you spoke and started stirring the inside of the pan while Minho kept looking at you in a mixture of shock and disbelief.

After your explanation, he smirked. This was way too funny and if he was honest, way too good to be true to him.

'And what if it's my scent?', he asked confidently, taking the spoon out of your hand.

'Then, ahm, I guess, I, I will cherish this wonderful nap I got to take here?', you spoke slowly, sounding like you were unsure if what you should be saying, like you didn't even think this far.

'Go on, I'm all yours to smell.', he consented and put the pan to the side, deactivated the heat and turned towards you, arms spread to his side, him fully presenting you to himself with his eyes closed, because he knew he wouldn't be able to handle looking at you when you'd approach him with the intention of absorbing something as personal as his scent.

'I could also just smell the detergent.', you clarified and reached around him to take the pan, starting to fill the bowls with vegetables and sauce.

Yes, Minho was disappointed. Not in you, he would never be disappointed just because you didn't do something you didn't want to. He was disappointed in the whole situation and especially in himself, for not being genuine with you. If he were, he would have told you right away that the scene's origin didn't matter, that you could always take a nap here whenever you wanted, because he really liked having you here, giving you everything you'd possibly ask for.

'I'll show you later. Let's eat now.', he suggested and let you carry the bowl to the sofa, following you like a sad puppy that lost its favorite treat.

Other than you said, you didn't take care of the dishes alone. Minho was right by your side. He paused the drama you were watching and turned on music, grooving lazily while washing and tidying up. He caught you covering your mouth due to yawns several times and finally ask nonchalantly, 'You're staying here this night, right?'

'I would love to if it's okay for you.'

He smiled. His was sure his ears got all red, because he felt his body warming up comfortably.

After being done with mundane chores, you returned to the loving room, realizing that it was already 1am. Minho, sitting on the sofa, settled back and sighed. It was a great day. He was absolutely happy.

'Was it alright that I dragged you with me to the concert? I know it's not something you originally enjoy, but I'm very happy that you were with me.', Minho spoke lowly, eyes closed, feeling the exhaustion in his body.

'I actually ended up having fun. Maybe your taste in music isn't that bad after all.'

'Didn't know you had doubts. My taste in everything is out of this world.'

'Sure it is. Keep hallucinating.'

'You're mean, you know that?'

'I'm not and you know that.'

'Yeah... I know.'

'I wanna sleep with your blanket this night', you mumbled after a long pause, cuddling the big blanket that you kept with you ever since Minho gave it to you.

'And I thought you wanted to sleep with me.', he blurted out, unconscious of what he was saying, but he realized after a few seconds and cleared his throat in embarrassment.

'If that was the case I would use your trick and say that I'm scared and need to hold your hand.', you responded, ignoring his embarrassment, but you were well aware of his mood.

'I wouldn't fall for that trick. I know when you're lying.', he laughed.

'And you think I don't know when you're being overdramatic?', you questioned, leaning closer to observe his face, but also to play with him a bit. When would he drop his act of false disinterest and confidence?

'The chair was higher than you think.', he whispered and held eye contact. Silence arose, and the only thing he was focusing on were your eyes, and he recognized once again how weak he was for you. You were so close, so calm and just one question, one consent and one move away for him to caress your cheek with all the gentleness he could put into one touch. He hoped if he'd ever did that, you would become just as weak, melting into his touch like he seemed to find himself melting into your presence.

'I would hold your hand every time you'd ask me to. No chair needed.', you whispered back and he observed you blinking more often, realizing that this position was difficult for you too, but your words sank in, and he felt like crying out of happiness. He believed you, because he really wanted your words to be his reality.

'You're so much braver than I am.', he said and ended the starring contest, looking down at his hands.

'I'm the bravest version of myself when I'm with you.', you confessed and he saw you smiling at him in his peripheral vision.

'Can we go to sleep? I'm very tired?', you asked, wrapping the blanket around you a bit tighter and he nodded , in awe of how adorable you looked.

'I bring you some pillows. You can go get ready for sleep in the meantime.', he said and vanished into his bedroom to bring you anything you might need to have a comfortable sleep. He also pulled out another blanket from his drawer, because there was no way he would take the one you recently occupied from you.

He instructed you to rest well in a serious manner before he left to his room and once the door closed behind him, he threw himself onto the mattress, gathering all wonderful moments of the day in an imaginary treasure box, then actual items he needed after the shower.

The hot water washed away the smell of the concert hall and the spices from cooking. The lotion bottle was still wet, because you used it earlier. It wasn't the first time you showered here. In summer you two would always take a break here for you to take a cold shower, because of how easily you were overwhelmed by warm temperatures. However, you never slept over. You two camped together or stayed over at friends' houses, but having you at his own apartment over night was a first.

He returned to his bed after 20 minutes and wondered if he would even be able to fall asleep, to agitated by the day's events, but he laid down and tried.

A knock on the door woke him up. He actually fell into a deep slumber. The door was slowly pushed open and revealed you, still carrying his blanket with you. He wasn't surprised, but he was still in awe.

'Did the blanket power run off of scent energy?', he groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes and then making his way towards you. You didn't say a word, and he got slightly scared.

'Are you okay?', he asked, worried, gently pulling you into his room and switching on the fairy light that was unorganized and forgotten on a shelf until this moment. He didn't want to hurt your eyes by switching on the brighter ceiling light.

When he finally saw you properly, he was immediately worried. Your eyes were teary and your breath shaky.

'Scent energy immune against nightmares, I guess.', you whispered and sounded like you're about to cry every moment.

'It's a lot to ask, I kno-ow, but can I sleep here?', you whispered, voice so quiet and shaky that Minho had trouble understanding, but he instantly agreed, expecting you to walk to his bed. You didn't. You spoke again.

'With you?'

He wanted to. He wanted to sleep with you in the same bed, even holding you, so badly. He wanted to be bold and confident, but at the same time he was so intimidated by the way he felt when it came to you and he didn't want to make you uncomfortable, feeling even unsafe in any sense. He would also give you everything you'd ask for and if you wanted him with you, he would be with you.

'Sure.', he said and added a smile, hoping it was assuring and casual.

He took the fairy light and dropped it on the bedside table, waited for you to settle, and once he thought you were comfortable, he switched the light off and laid down as well. It's not much he wished for right now, yet he felt like it was too much to ask. Maybe that's how he could phrase it, so he tried.

'I want to ask you for something.', he started and heard a small 'okay' from you, quiet and in your consciously gentle tone that made him feel good right away.

'It's a lot.', he continued and paused, waiting for an indication if you’re ready or if he should drop it.

'I conquered your bed and you with your pretty body for a night. This is a lot from my side to ask, you have every right to do the same.'

'You're literally the only one I know who could phrase it this way without making it sound dirty.', he chuckled, amused, because it was true. He heard you laughing as well.

'Okay, I really want to hold you close to me. I, I want to, you know...' , he ended.

'You know.', you repeated and he was sure he could never sound as innocent as you regardless of how innocent he actually were.

'Yes, please, I'd like that a lot.', you said and Minho thought he was already in dreamland.

'Please, can you initiate, I'm way too overwhelmed and shy right now.', he heard you whisper and confidence finally returned to its home.

He scooped closer and lifted the blanket from you to let it drop over him as well. Under one blanket, he felt your warmth and every of your movements and it was new to him, he didn't dislike it though. As much as he knew he liked you, he didn't know to what extent and it was as exciting as it was scary to investigate that aspect of himself and the relationship he had with you.

'Minho.', you whispered and he immediately stopped his breath.

'Can we, kinda, set rules or something?'

'What rules?', he asked, not moving.

'Like, for example... that... we have to say... out loud what we think? And we don't judge that? And we don't act on it or something, just, we, ahm, talk eachother through?'

He slowly exhaled and let out a low chuckle.

'Wow. I take it back. You can make your words sound dirty.'

You laughed and sat up, now looking down at him. It was weird, so he sat up as well.

'No, not in that way. Just, I feel like I need to say what's on my mind here or otherwise it's gonna consume me. I don't want it to become awkward with you when there is no reason for that.'

He understood exactly how you felt and was eager to make this right.

'I really want to caress your cheek.', he announced, well aware of how weird it must sound like said out loud and when he heard you laughing, he knew it was weird.

He also realized that it was completely fine. It doesn't have to be serious, it can just be.

'You can do that. I allow it.', you said, the second sentence only a whisper.

Reluctantly, Minho reached out for you, he was feeling calm, but his hands was slightly shaking. However once his fingers touched your skin, he wanted nothing more to make sure you were confident in how much he liked you, how much you were liked and respected.

He pulled away and huffed in a smile. 'You're good?'

'Yes. You?', your voice sounded drained and he laid back down, indicating you to do the same by patting the mattress next to him.

'Just wanna sleep, holding you. Nothing changes, just like having you with me.', he mumbled and felt you rolling over, hesitantly placing your head on his chest.

'Okay?', you questioned and he laughed feeling you relax against him so easily.

'Yes', he said as if your question was the most ridiculous one ever.

Then he remembered something.

'How do I smell?', he asked teasingly, throwing his arms around you to comfort your embarrassment by rubbing your back.

'You should hold my hand.', he announced and heard you huffing tiredly.

'Is the bed that high?', you asked, sounding like you were about to fall asleep every second.

'No, but I'm high on endorphins.', he explained very seriously and wasn't surprised when you pinned his arm down to grab his hand, acting all annoyed when he knew you actually weren't at all, that you liked his company just as much as he enjoyed yours.

[igglemouse]

I start my morning off with a lot more energy and in such a better mood than before. Yes, it is because of what happened last night and it is at least double the effect since it had been quite some time for me and...let's just say I look forward to it happening again.

It was so good that I start my day off with a salad as if last night made me feel guilty. Eat well, live well, think well, be well...something like that, right? That feels like some random quote that would be on some welcome mat or something.

I think the feeling was mutual. When I wake up there was Niklas still beside me, the presence of him was...comfortable. Like he belonged there so I was happy that he decided to stay the night. That this wasn't just a fleeting moment and that maybe it can be more. Let me have my delusions, please!

So instead of shooing him away when the sun comes up I give him a key to the house and let him know he can come over any time he wants. Might seem a little rash but he just feels right?

What do I even have to lose? I've been wanting to make deeper connections with people, I've been wanting a little more in my life, and here he is. So why deny it or hold it back? I mean there is nothing like waking up with someone you enjoy and sharing a breakfast together is there?

"So, what is it that you actually do?" I ask, pushing some more of a pretty bland salad into my mouth. The news droning on in the background, just noise, just another theme to what might be another quiet day.

"I told you, it's just small magic. Practical magic, it's nothing fancy-"

"No, I mean outside of that. Since magic isn't the center of your world you have a job, right."

"Oh, I'm a doctor," he says as if it is no big deal.

I stare at him and blink a few times because did the world just drop a doctor into my lap? "A...doctor?"

"Wait..." excuse me for still being a little shocked. I feel like the main character right now, am I the main character? MAIN CHARACTER ENERGY! "Do you use magic when you..."

"Oh, no! No! That is forbidden, as you know," he says with a laugh. "I should clarify, I'm practicing medicine, not actual doctor. Yet."

Ah, okay, now that is more realistic. A girl can't be too fortunate I suppose. "I'm sure with dash of magic you could be? A little mind control here, a little luck spell there?" he shakes his head but he is laughing at least!

He's getting up to leave to presumably go back to his life. A life I know nothing about but one I am curiously more curious to understand. I think there is more to this man than he lets on, I mean, he does carry around a magic destiny watch. That has to be rare right? Maybe passed down to the first born of his family or something?

Before he leaves he has one more thing to say. "Just remember, you don't need magic. Ninety-nine percent of people get by in life just fine without it, so don't let this whole exile thing get you down."

"Easy for you to say," I reply a little too harshly but that is the truth. It's not true that people are doing just 'fine' without magic, the truth is, magic could help a lot of people and the Realm witholds a lot of it...okay, okay, don't think those thoughts Grace. Those are dangerous thoughts.

"We practice magic for people that can't use it," his tone is serious now, maybe he picks up on what I am thinking. It's not that unpopular you know. There are so many spells to help crops grow for instance, think of the good that can do for many people? Yet the Realm- "We do it to protect the world from those would harm regular, everyday people. Evil spirits, vampires, shifters, if you would believe it the Realm currently thinks there are aliens among us who seek to conquer us."

Ok, now that is funny! I smile, holding back a laugh because while I do believe in vampires (because I've met one) Aliens don't exist. Duh. "The world is definitely a dangerous place once you walk through that door," is really all I could think to say. There are many realities people aren't aware of and so many creatures and beings hiding behind The Veil.

Niklas eyes lock onto mines now, his expression hardens just for a moment. "And sometimes, they burst through it."

"Speaking of doors," Niklas transitions from a sorta serious conversation to a farewell. "I should be going through yours erm...I mean your front door!" his cheeks color at that and the man just added a few more thousand points in his favor. "Anyway! I look forward to seeing you again!"

"Me too!"

He offers me a hug which I'm super happy to accept and Watcher his hugs always feel so comfortable!

I'm really not sure what to do with the rest of my time today as that familiar sense of aimlessness takes hold of me. So I fall back into the familiar, collecting.

It's not glamourous for sure and it's not even really a career but it's something I've gotten into the habit of doing. Chipping away at rocks, picking up herbs, wandering through Windenberg with the hope that one day I'll run into something special.

That doesn't happen today. Today its just the usual dusty old rocks and common wild berries that fill my pockets. There is always tomorrow I guess.

It actually is a pretty nice day so there is no point wasting it all away with collecting. So I called Triple V and invited her to the cafe since we haven't caught up in a few days and now that I think about it I have a lot to tell her. I did meet a random handsome guy after all.

Knowing her I'm sure she has just as much to say to me. With VVV there's always some story or wild scheme running through that head of hers, it's really never a dull moment with her.

"One latte, please! Wait, no, make that two! She'll have what I'm having," yeah, she would order for me. She likes to take charge and she likes making decisions. "Grace! My Grace! We meet again! I thought you were too busy for little old Vee!"

"Huh? You know me, I wasn't doing anything at all."

"Oh, you little liar! You're a lot busier than you let on!" she nudges me playfully in that way of hers and I can't help but to smile and chuckle. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and her spirit is sure to make this a delightful conversation.

"Nope, nothing at all Vee," but I admit to saying that with a sheepish grin.

"And that is the problem, isn't it?" She says, there is an excitement in her eyes, a look I'm too familiar with when it comes to her. It's usually not good and spells trouble with a capital T. "You have sooo much potential, Grace, we both do-"

"Are we really going to talk about this here and now Vee?"

"Yes? We must," insistence, it's taken over her voice now. We're definitely going to talk about it. I was hoping to talk about Niklas and get her thoughts on him but... "I think it's time we take control of our futures, of our, you know..." she says in a hushed voice. It's not proper to talk about magic openly in public you know.

We find a cozy corner of the cafe, far enough for a private conversation but of course if we were really skilled maybe we could put some kind of privacy bubble around us or something? Is that possible? Anything is possible with magic, rich? Either way, once we settle into our seats I can tell she is ready to burst and eventually she does.

"It's the Matlock Society, Grace, what do you know about it?" She asks in a hushed tone, leaning in just a little.

"Umm, nothing, other than that it is the second time you've brought it up and it is named after my family for some reason."

"But it is a lot more than that, Grace. The Matlock society is determined to unlock the magical potential of all of us rejects. Of everyone the Realm denies," she says. There is a fervor here and a wild look to her eyes that I do not like. But this is Vee. My best friend. My only true friend. My sister, basically. She's just excited about something new, she's always like this.

"The Realm denies prospects for plenty of reasons," I try to be the sane one here, try to stay grounded. "Besides, the people the Realm denies don't even know they have been denied unless they are part of a magical family like us-"

"Grace-"

"Valerie Van Vilet, you seem a little unhinged about all of this?" Okay, I had to be blunt and me doing so causes her to pause. Hopefully she's processing this like the intelligent and critical woman I know she is. I understand, we are both denied something we are born with, a right, even, but this whole thing looks like a suspicious white van with 'Free Candy' scribbled on the side.

"What is this about, Vee? Okay, so the Matlock Society unlocks our 'potential' or whatever, then what? Do they do this for free, what do they ask for in return?" I continue on because I can tell maybe I've interjected some doubt into her mind.

"Nothing but your loyalty to their cause, that's it."

"And their cause is????" ugh, doesn't she hear herself?

"Grace look, I'm not asking you to join but I am asking you to consider. We are having a meeting, later tomorrow night, and I'd love for you to come. You can just spectate, that's all, and then you can decide from there if it's something you'd give a try."

"Alright..."

Yeah, I'll see what it's about. I've been doing more riskier things so why not? Besides, Triple V has been a dear friend so I'm sure she means well and if there is something wrong with this 'Matlock' society maybe I can pull her out of it? Keep your enemies close kind of thing?

She leaves satisfied and I decide to have one more drink for the go. Hopefully I'm not getting myself into anything I can't get myself out of.

Either way, it's back home for me, and I was a little shocked to find Niklas already there. Forgot that I had given him a key to a place, that was that this morning?

Any ways, he seems pretty comfortable in my space, as if he's been here for a while, but then again I did ask for this. Things are moving fast with this but maybe that is because it is destiny?

"So umm, are you going to be here often?" I ask, a little unsure about this suddenly. I do want him to be here, I do, there is something that pulls me to him after all, yet still, should I believe in fate and destiny? Especially when it comes to relationships?

His reply his a shrug at first, looking down at his watch again, as if that is to blame. "I go where it tells me to go and just try my best to figure out why. It wants me to be here, I think..."

"I'd love a watch like that but I guess it doesn't tell time very well," I say with a chuckle, and he of course agrees with that.

"Telling time is truly overrated," Niklas says in that thoughtful tone of his. Is everything overrated to him? "There's the past, the future, and the present, and the latter is the only thing that matters."

I chuckle again, giving my head a little shake at his philosophy. It's cute. "I think you should be a poet." little "Maybe you should have been a poet?"

"Now that doesn't pay nearly as well as becoming a doctor"

As our conversation continues I start to notice that he's getting closer to me. Not just the physical contact like his leg brushing ever so slightly against mines or how his arm is also wandering nearer, but there is a connection forming. A bond.

So while we talk about regular every day things, life, work, the weather, it all starts to feel like something more. We just start talking about things. Like he wants to know what my big plans are (outside of magic of course) and I tell him I don't have many. I make Jewelry, that's it, and I guess I blog as well?

He tells me that I really should look for something more solid in life, something more concrete, something I can hold on to and always rely on and I'm starting to think maybe he's talking about himself.

We honestly don't talk for too long though because we decided to put our lips to better use...

Episode List - Next

[dilfhos]

sooo this is gonna be a messy rant on the observations ive made between different writer communities, blog interactions and overall “status”. just silly little things I’ve noticed in my 4+ years being on tumblr btwn 2 diff blogs. and this is about no one specific, a very generalized post so if you find urself offended i honestly dont know what to tell you?? :o do better ig. & if you relate, i feel for you. TLDR @/end.

i dont like interacting/ building connections with people but not for the reasons ppl think. im not stuck up or pretentious or weird or anything. just another anime-enjoyer who loves to write in her free time. nobody special by a longshot!! i enjoy writing, always have since before i was a teen. (wasn’t always ff tho!).

but over the years ive just noticed fandom writing has its gritty sides that no one talks about often and its no mystery why so many prolific/ popular writers deactivated, me included. i had some shitty experiences and have seen friends go bc of it.

firstly, I’ve noticed, once you start interacting and building friendships with people, it’s easier to see the bigger perspective of where ppl stand and the blatant hierarchy of friendships and groups. same applies to that outside. like its literally just me n’ my bsf then my acquaintances bc mfs be weirddd omg its like cults or something. like thats why initially I didn’t interact w/anyone starting on my new blog. that n’ fear of drama following from my last blog ugh. ‘Cept the few i’ve met on my old blog (like my wifey)

not to mention i have bad anxiety. and sometimes im cue-deaf. i dont always pick up what people put down and vice versa and it makes me conscious in a lot of my interactions. so a part of me doesn’t want to interact at all to avoid all awkwardness and possible miscommunications. that’s not to say i don’t notice subtle changes in interactions after one situation / conversation or so forth, that in myself or witnessed between other ppl. (im perceptive, just not that good conversationalist lol. like i really have to try.)

but then��if you don’t interact with people on here, your chances of building an audience or a reader base is slim to none. the likelihood of developing relationships is zip. because you’re already perceived and pegged as just another tumblr writer. pause. to clarify, a writer who doesn’t want any recognition or interactions from mutuals or new friends. or just a lonely writer? a introverted, lonely writer. which leads to little to none interactions (anons, reblogs, moots —exposure.)

so then its like you’re kinda placed btwn a rock n a hard place. and there’s absolutely no problem with that! in fact this is the best part—meeting friends and like-minded people! people that make being online all the more worth it right? thirsting over fictional characters and sharing in each other’s works!

but you have to be in specific circles it seems. but then you can’t imply that you want to be in those circles bc then you’re desperate.

but well, then you cant purposefully want to be independent or be on your own or else you’re a hater, hypocrite or stuck up. not to mention, no one will reblog your stuff lol. no one will interact fr, and you’re friendless essentially. and god forbid if you disagree on something as if opinions don’t exist btw! then you’re being ganged up on. (like omg grow up!)

but then if you reach out you’re seen as trying to wedge in or kiss ass? you interact and follow and you’re ignored or left hanging? (bc im gonna touch your hand when i say this—it never gave fan, your majesty of horny nerds) and this is about ALL the writing communities and fandoms—spicy content, black content and dark content. ALL.

yet no one wants to talk about the pregnant elephant in the room—bias. and favoritism. also people seem to have a hard time being direct with how they’re feeling toward/about someone ( in a good or bad way) which in turn leads to a lot of miscommunication and subliminal attacks. (not to mention hate anons? one of my moots just had her inbox flooded w/them recently, ew.)

you can lead a horse to water AND you can write a 500-word essay on the observations made on tumblr writers as a whole. (a long ass post on the truth on behalf of those feeling this too)

also, slapping a HEY LOOK AT ME! IM A WRITER WHO WANTS INTERACTION AND FRIENDS! on a blog is frankly embarrassing. it shouldn’t even take all that seeing how easy it is for others wanting the same thing.

or doing less to achieve the same result.

not to mention, yall shit on ppl who essentially feel this way altogether bc you peg them as sb who doesn’t “try” or just jealous when their own works are phenomenally written themselves. ive seen it. and ive lived it. never gave jealousy baby.

at the end of the day, we’re all writers— either longterm or hobbyists. (personally, im longterm) self-indulgent or not! and its absolutely amazing when people are being fair in how they spread love and feedback to their writers.

Secondly, its not news that people have to want to reblog your fics so that their followers can reblog, so they can reblog, and their followers can reblog and so forth. but ppl honestly dont care atp bc once they’ve already read it, they owe you nothing. and apparently asking for reblogs is crass and bold. (imma do it anyway) but putting your very all into a story just to turn and see a half-thought out hc soaring 3k in 2hrs and 5k in a day — you have to stfu, open your ass and take it. keep it cute!

you’re getting fucked after all!!

because if you complain—you’re just jealous and lazy and uncreative!! and i hate that to seem like a writer worth a damn, you have to change up your writing style every two weeks to fit in with trending waves.

“no more poetic long fics, nobody’s into that! short, snappy slutty shots are all the rage!” “ppl are only into these specific tropes but you can’t exceed 2k words!” “only add trending characters to these hcs! ppl love them only!” “don’t write too much about a specific character or else ill unfollow you!” its exhausting.

i am well within my right as a literary artist to desire more feedback and interaction on anything i put out. period. and you are too! 🫵

God, im tired of that stupid, ‘you have to enjoy your writing for yourself and not worry about notes’ line. i do love my writing! don’t get me wrong there’s nobody id rather write like if not myself fr. not to mention the inspiration i draw from famous literary authors. however, i would love feedback and the same energy that i see with others in my same caliber.

and when i see others that didn’t even try fr—its a slap in the face to put it bluntly.

i can want silly little comments and notes about something i cherish and put out for that reason and yall aren’t gonna make me feel bad about it. sorry! like yall really be making people feel shitty for wanting the same type of interactions you get! especially when its harmless, bye asf. nb want to recipe to ur peach cobbler b!

the only one giving push back are those appointed popular /top blogs n’ cliques tho. now personally, i honestly dgaf if you have 20 followers or 25k, writing is writing and if its good you should want to support it regardless of following count/interaction right?

unfortunately, and quite unsurprisingly its not the case for the rest of this hellhole lol. there’s always gonna be some “big blog” in any part of tumblr or any social media for that matter.

but when the sole purpose being on a site like tumblr to write is mainly exposure, then it just makes it ten times worse especially if it seems that these blogs are steady at the top of every. single. tag. and listen, i know how initially stupid that sounds but when you’ve picked up on patterns for as long as i have, well iykyk.

so imma be real bc no one else will, half of the posts that yall see with 25k notes have alr been done. just different characters, different words, different dialogue. And 8/10 its been done by sb who only received 100 notes. Thats the evil part. whats more is that it lacks the creativity the one post with 100-300 notes is filled with completely.

POP QUIZ! what post would readers be more inclined to read? — one that says 10k (ohhh that must be popular!) or the one with only 150 (oh i guess nb really liked that one) that no one is even willing to reblog for MORE. and BOOM. now yall wonder why so many great writers LEAVE, its a fucking joke.

so unfortunately its no longer only about or only on readers anymore. its about who you know and who you know is willing to support your fr. who is willing to REBLOG your fics for their friends and followers, so that their friends and followers can reblog. to fit in you actually have to get in these days and it makes it all less enjoyable. makes it a chore and if you aren’t ‘doing it right’ ultimately it makes you feel shitty about your writing. (Please don’t, you are doing amazing. its the platform.)

it makes people not want to jump into writing. it pushes away those who actually want to join writing communities and meet people without feeling like they have to jump thru hoops to thrive or worse—live in other ppls shadows. and then it deters those from speaking up in fear of being shut down by bigger groups. ive seen it happen time and time again.

lastly, and this is the juiciest part! you absolutely cannot say anything about any of this bc you’re complaining and a fisher just looking for attention and not someone who just want things to be fair all over. play the game, right? ( wrong. and if this is your logic, you suck! )

its no longer about making flashy banners and pretty themes. its no longer about how many clever directory links you add or how many games you initiate on your blog or whether or not you’ve reblogged your fic three times already. its about your “friends”, other mutuals, and blogs willing to support you too. not just the audience. audience gonna do what they want regardless. reblog, don’t reblog, whatever. “at least ive read it right?” but everyone knows this. duh! but it’s obvious who doesn’t care as long as they’re on top of that tag! its admirable in a way but it sucks for those wanting to break out and build some kind of readerbase and/or make friends.

TLDR; people need to stop being bias and be fair and open lol. stop picking favorites and share the love all around. you see another person writing your favorite character or trope, give them a fucking chance and reblog, regardless if they’re in your ‘circle’ / radar or not. regardless if you know them or not. hell, let them put you on to a new fandom. bc writing is writing and making new moots and finding new fics seem to be what everyone loves to showcase until its time to actually do it. no wonder people get discouraged to make friends and write, yall treat it like some kind of secret society when its supposed to be fun💀 not a competition. (yall need to dead this clique-y shit. )

[daitoshi]

Fun lil story about me & a state trooper talking past each other.

State trooper pulled me over, had me roll down the window, asked me why I thought I'd pulled him over (a headlight was burnt out, it was night). He asked for insurance, license, the usual stuff.

But then he asked me what I'd been up to that evening.

Me: I'm on my way home from a club meetup.

Him: Oh? Had fun, then?

Me: Yeah! We had a great time. It's a whole weekly thing.

Him: So how many drinks did you have?

Me: Like, alcohol? No, none, there was no alcohol tonight.

Him: You went to the club, but didn't drink anything?

Me: Yes? People leave their brewing stuff at home.

*we both stare at each other through the open window, mutually confused

Him: What club is this?

Me: SCA. It's- 'Society for Creative Anachronism' - it's like, a group that gets together to learn pre-16th century crafting techniques, sword fighting, court reenactments and stuff. We worked on weaving lace and embroidery, tonight.

Him: *shines flashlight in back seat, where my lace project is, looks at my wife in the passenger seat who lifts up an embroidery hoop depicting a nearly-finished goldfish, then steps back from the car for a moment, clearly trying not to laugh

Him: That.... actually sounds pretty cool. So you know how to use a sword?

Me: I'm more into archery, to be honest.

Him: Do you have any weapons in the car, tonight?

Me: No sir, just the lace.

Him: Alright, so your license plate bulb is out, and one of your headlights is out. I'm going to give you a warning, make sure to see (judge) before (date) to show you got those fixed.

Me: Thanks very much, will do. We're always happy to have new members, if you want to learn sword fighting.

Him: I'll think about it.

And so we departed, and I learned an important lesson about remembering to clarify the difference between "being in a club" and "going to the club."

[tobbesdiscordkitten]

hello, I am one of your mutuals but wanted to be on anon for this.

I took a paralegal program in college and studied criminal law. I have done my research on little michelle and shelia. although I don’t have access to tiktok I read many articles and this is what I think. 40+ years is a LONG time to wait to prosecute axl. If something happened in the 80’s there would be evidence at the scene. first, where is the evidence and if there was any, like dna it would be destroyed by now. I also read some where that axl originally rejected her because of her age at the time. nothing makes sense, it would be an open and shut case even now. finally, why, is she putting on tiktok bio what happened. That’s really bad, make it make sense. right now it’s he said/she said case with zero evidence.

I think she needs therapy and needs to learn to forgive axl, he gets so much hate he doesn’t deserve. he deserves children and a family 🥺😞

Hey, that's alright! I'm glad to still see you in my inbox ☺️

I agree. I'm not a big fan of digging up dirt from somebody's past, especially if it happened 20 or 40 years ago. I am, however, a big advocate for fixing things right away, ideally within a span of 10 years, if the victim needs time to recover and heal from traumatic events. But why even bother bringing it up now, in 2024, when it won't solve anything?

Michelle's best chance was filing a lawsuit against Axl in the '90s when both Stephanie and Erin did, but she didn't. Another good time would've been during the early 2000s when Axl was out in public and touring, but, again, she didn't. She's wasting her time and breath on him when she needs to be an advocate for survivors - educating people, raising awareness, and providing legal support to families of SA victims. She's focusing too much on one man when she needs to turn her focus to a larger group of individuals who share similar stories. That is what will make a huge difference, NOT taking Axl to court.

It also disturbs me how she puts everything on her TikTok bio. She wants to forever be remembered as the girl who was r*ped by Axl Rose, which is kinda sad because she could have the potential to change her legacy and be remembered as a strong leader/fighter for r*pe victims. Unfortunately, she wants the public, and her audience on TikTok, to see her as this fragile woman who is hanging on by a thread. Oh, the sympathy!

Which leads me to my next point that you mentioned earlier, she does need help. She needs to talk to a therapist, find coping mechanisms, learn to forgive the past, and move on with her life in order to help other people, as l've mentioned before. It would make her have a purpose in life instead of wallowing in her own self-pity. Axl learned to heal, why can't she do the same?

Michelle mentioned that she's speaking out now because of the lies she's read about her incident. But this just begs the question, had she not read those lies, or had Slash not written about her story, would she still speak out, or forever hold her silence? 🤔

Axl already talked about her story a long time ago, saying how she was crazy and ran out of his place, down the street butt-naked, not being able to remember her own name, probably because she was strung out on drugs. Yet, that's not the reason for her speaking out. It's because of Slash's book and what the other GNR members said over the years, not what Axl said.

Another question I have for Michelle is: how far long were you when you had the miscarriage? It seems she's only mentioning having a miscarriage because Erin had one, and I think - maybe - she's trying to fabricate her story so Axl can FOR SURE pay his dues 😒

I explained in another post that Michelle might be trying to "cancel" Axl or take him out of the music industry, but some people took my words out of context 😅 So, to clarify, here's why I think that might be her intention.

On Michelle's TikTok, she shared a news video about women, from four nonprofit organizations, who were "hoping to bring changes" to the music industry. There is a report they compiled called Sound Off: Make The Music Industry Safe and it's “being released as sexual misconduct lawsuits" that accuse "some major names" in the industry like “Danny Elfman and Axl Rose.”

four nonprofit organizations (left), Sound Off report (right)

Below are the women's goals they want to execute with this report:

"NDA's (nondisclosure agreements) are one of the many tools that the music industry uses to silence and suppress survivors."

Although Michelle isn't part of these organizations, she still supports the report, and I can't help but think that she's using her own voice, in a similar fashion, to try and take Axl out with her story.

I will always question the universe on why Axl didn't deserve to have a family and kids of his own. It's all he ever wanted, and it could've fixed him 😭

[evilsapphyre]

I have some thoughts, but they are going under the cut for some spoiler talk. For my mutuals and others who are still pretty early in the game, this could spoil findings.

So I just finally found the Inquisitor, curtesy of Morrigan, and we learn about all the terrible things that are going on in the South - mainly thanks to the new Darkspawn ravaging the entire Southern Thedas.

Orlais is barely holding on.

Denerim has fallen, but survivors in Ferelden are taking refuge at Redcliffe - mainly thanks to the help of Orzammar.

Kirkwall fell, and Aveline is the Viscount there and she’s taken up shelter with the Prince of Starkhaven with those she evacuated.

We (as Rook) are told that we don’t need to worry about that fight. Focus on the one up here as the Gods haven’t done anything other than release armies. They are focused in the North. That makes sense. The Inquisitor can work with people to try to rally armies in the interim.

What doesn’t make sense is why we didn’t have any development of the South. We were told that the reason that so many decisions were excluded is that the South doesn’t matter in the North. But here we are, name dropping major cities, and it would have been an ideal time to do the tiny world building for the people who had decisions.

We could have name dropped Alistair, or Anora, or even Celene, or Gaspard. Instead, these countries feel flat in the moment to fans. In my world states, would my Hero of Ferelden have returned from her journey, would she and Alistair make it to Redcliffe? They’re pretty good about leading armies against Darkspawn - even if it’s been 23 years.

Was Hawke at Kirkwall? Did he help the evacuees? Was Carver and Fenris with him? Is Isabela aware of what her two favorite idiots from Kirkwall are doing, or that they could be in terrible danger too? She may be content to run a fighting pit (which I seriously love for her), but those are still important people to her.

I very much doubt that we’re getting dialogue prompts to clarify any of our past decisions now, and this feels like such a huge lost opportunity to just add a line here, a line there. There are not that many permutations of the very few decisions that could have been added.

It’s really a shame. I’m still enjoying the game immensely, but I did feel letdown in the moment that these major things are happening in the South - but we don’t know anything specific despite the Inquisitor being the perfect person to have those specifics.

Also, Harding can reference the Divine, and Harding will say that she and the Divine never really talked. But if Leliana was the Divine, that would be a huge error since Harding worked for Leliana. They may not have been braiding each other’s hairs, but if Harding talks about working with Charter, I’m willing to bet that she knew that possible Divine pretty damn well.

Anyways, these are my thoughts right now. I’ve not done anything in Hossberg, and so this is just a snapshot from talking the first time with the Inquisitor and Morrigan. Please don’t share any spoilers, and please if you reblog, don’t reblog with spoilers.

[hopeymchope]

Having finally finished reading the DR Kirigiri light novels, here are my closing thoughts and questions.

(For background, I read these translations. Which - as I previously discussed in the first bullet of this post here - may have some small issues throughout.)

I've previously given y'all my report on how I felt / what I was thinking about this series just after passing the halfway point of the light novels, so now it's time for me to bring this whole thing home and offer some closing thoughts.

My first, dominating thought is that this would be so good to see adapted as an anime. I can easily imagine how many episodes it'd take to do each light novel and where you'd logically cut off the story... even more easy, though, would be a manga. It's definitely crying out for that kind of treatment.

Regardless of the (relatively minor) gripes I raise below? This is definitely a great series to read. You get a number of twisty, gripping mysteries, an easy-to-like lead duo, an imposingly powerful enemy force, new background on our favorite lavender-hued detective, and you even get some great new characters added to the mythos — what more do you want?

Okay, but now I'll get into the griping stuff :P For starters: Isn't it... kind of LAME to have Kirigiri repeatedly experience something so similar to the basic setup of DR1 (or any mainline Danganronpa game, really) on MULTIPLE OCCASIONS prior to DR1 ever happening??? But then she just never remotely reference any fo that experience? And YESs, of course I realize she never even obliquely references these events because these prequels weren't actually written by the time of DR1, nor even completed by DR3. But that's the kind of thing you typically want to avoid with prequels, right? ...... Even so, I guess this does take us farther into these stories deserving to be called "Danganronpa" than any other spinoff. And it's not hard to come up with excuses for why she never remotely hinted at these things; she's intentionally acting withdrawn and keeping info to herself throughout DR1 and DR3, after all. So it's not the WORST crime. It's just, like I said: kind of lame.

MORE SPECIFICALLY, let me clarify: Although the cases in DRK don't include a "mutual killing" element, you still get at least three cases where she's [1] trapped in a specific building alongside a group of people who include a killer/"mastermind," the cast subsequently being picked off one by one, and [2] said experiences are also broadcast to a viewing audience. In fact, you even get two cases where [3] the trapped participants are expected to take specific bedrooms to lock themselves in during the nighttime! And even [4] one case where there's a weird, automated "host character" overseeing the whole thing, which is being operated around a specific set of rules. That's a helluva thing, isn't it?

I've previously expressed GREAT TREPIDATION about one specific element of this series: I was told that supposedly, these light novels included evidence that Fuhito was manipulating Kyoko into hating her father, her dad was always a victim, and Kyoko never realized that she was basically molded from birth by someone who was manipulating her feelings and actions. It all made Kyoko considering Fuhito her "most imporant person" (per DR1 and UDG's captives) come off as this tragic tale where our supposed "master detective" never realized she's been a victim of gaslighting and manipulation for many years, which would change SO MUCH CONTEXT behind her life's work and her relationships with both Jin and Fuhito. HOWEVER, GUESS WHAT? None of that shit was even true! HUZZAH!!!! NOTHING in these light novels goes against what we already knew about Kyoko, Jin, Fuhito, or their relationship(s) with one another... though there is some minor new insight provided into a couple of details. We get a new look at how Jin actually cared about Kyoko from afar (via the "Jin Ex Machina" business I mentioned in the previous post), which is in line with the hints of his lingering love for her we tasted in both DR1 and DR3 without either exonerating him for his choices OR making him 100% correct. We repeatedly watch Kyoko questioning/doubting her grandfather's/family's longstanding "detective work must come above and before personal concerns" rules. And we also get a taste of Fuhito being protective of Kyoko when he learns of the kind of danger she's in — yet simultaneously having complete trust in her talent and ability to overcome said danger. Fuhito seems to even gently help Kyoko understand Samidare's actions near of the end of the final volume... although we only get a taste of his help via Kyoko's internal thoughts, so we don't know exactly what he said to her. TL/DR? My point is simply this: The DRK light novels keep the overall morality / goodness of Kyoko's family dynamics in the same place we already understood them from the games: Kyoko and Fuhito are very close and care about each other without being overtly emotional about it, there is a rift between Jin and the rest of his family over Fuhito priortizing case work above visiting his dying daughter on her deathbed, Jin clearly still concerns/cares that linger for his daughter, etc.

What's with so many scenes of "Black Challenges" or "Duel Noirs" having signs defaced to include the word "DESPAIR"? Is that just some extra branding for the main franchise's themes? Feels out of place.

I feel bad for all those orphans who adored this dude.

General thoughts on numerous new-to-DR characters: As I said in my last post about this series, Samidare is likeable but spends most of the series very thinly defined — plus she's pretty slow on the uptake. Thankfully, by Volume 4 she starts finally pulling her weight, and she gets some much-needed expansion of her background in Volume 7 (just in time for her to make some dumb decisions). Licorne is probably the second-most important new character, and he's an asshole. An interesting one, though! And he does some heroic things! .... even if he isn't really all that morally invested in helping people. He's a self-centered asshole for most of the series, frankly, and I don't care much whether he's around or not. Salvadore Yadorigi Fukuro is awesome; a straight-up superb character with a very "DR" kind of skill/talent. Yaki Hajiki is a character who's also hard to dislike, and I wish he got more "screen time," because he's very intriguing. Johnny Arp is a fascinating one, though he definitely shares some dickish behavior with Lico. Still, I'm always engaged when he's on the page. And... look, I'm fond of Meruko "Pumpkinhead" Mifune. She's fun, sure, but I also see real potential for depth that isn't explored herin.

My remaining observations/thoughts contain some spoilers for the Danganronpa Kirigiri series, so I'm putting the rest UNDER THE BELOW CUT... although I still avoid mentioning the identities of any culprits or masterminds so as to keep the primary case mysteries intact.

Yadorigi = Intelligent, quiet dude in sunglasses who looks like the answer to "What if Munakata found his chill?"

What, exactly, is the state of Yadorigi's eyesight by the end of the series? Initially, we learn that his unique eyesight is very important to his work in uncovering fraud. Later, after a blow to the head, we're told that his eyesight will never be the same as it previously was. In the final volume, he visits Kyoko while wielding a white cane. So uh... does that cane imply that SYF is now blind or very close to it? Or am I reading too much into a walking stick here?

Nothing infuriates me quite as much as when major problems in a story could be easily resolved via basic fucking communication, and a failure to communicate on a base level is absolutely CORE to why things go south in the seventh and final volume. By the time Kyoko and Yui are heading out to the case, the situation is this: Without Kyoko's knowledge, our redacted overarching mastermind (henceforth referred to as "ROM") tried to get Samidare to agree to be the culprit in this final Black Challenge. She refused. ROM then said their organization (the Crime Victim's Relief Committee) will eliminate Kyoko if Samidare doesn't play along. And then, right after saying this? ROM pretty clearly DIED right in front of Samidare, before she can ever express any intention of changing her mind or not. She is then confronted by the enigmatic Tokichiro Endo, who is basically the go-between for culprits and the organization, who demands her final answer. Based on what happens in the case immediately after this, it appears that this conversation somehow ended with Samidare refusing to be the true culprit in this case but ALSO accepting that she would be framed for the murders and take the fall. So now Samidare has a choice to make: Does she (A) trust the Crime Victims' Relief Committee to keep their promise and leave Kyoko alone so long as she keeps her mouth shut...... even though Samidare refused to meet their demands and become the case's culprit? OOOORRR does Yui (B) realize that the Committee has already broken their supposed "rules" by forcibly coercing her into being the culpri — not to mention the fact that they're routinely aiding and abetting murders — which adds up to mean that she can't trust their word and must warn Kyoko of the danger she's in now that the committee has threatened her life directly? Any thinking person should choose (B), but Samidare of course chooses (A) so the plot will happen. *FACEPALM*

The worst part of this is that EVEN when our two heroines have just barely escaped from a burning building and fled out into freezing conditions, leaving them on the razor's edge between two possible methods of death with everyone else from the case seemingly already being dead? Samidare STILL won't outright deny being the case's culprit when accused. With literally NO REASON LEFT not to come clean, she never says jack shit. And then she dies!

During the denouement, the conclusion Kyoko reaches after leaving the hospital and revisiting the scene is... murky, and I think this might be something caused by the translation methods used. It currently reads as though Kyoko reaches the correct conclusion about the case, accurately determining Samidare's innocent AND identifying the true culprit(s). However... she doesn't seem to be 100% confident in her decision? It sounds like Kiri still harbors some lingering doubts about Samidare possibly being guilty?..... Even though she sounds really confident in her (correct) conclusions immediately before that. So it's left ambiguous. Which, I suppose, is one way to maintain Kiri being the Best Detective while simultaneously leaving room for her line in DR1 about how her burns happened because she "trusted the wrong person." She almost entirely knows that she didn't actually trust the wrong person, but they have to leave some doubt so that line can exist? ...... IF this translation is even accurate on this part.

Say... why did Samidare believe she'd die on this mission? It wasn't actually any more inherently dangerous than any other mission her and Kyoko had gone on... LESS dangerous than some, I'd argue! But she prepares this whole letter for her eventual death, so she clearly thought it was a strong possibility. My only guess is that she believed Kyoko was going to be targeted for death, and she planned to fulfill her oft-promised role as Kyoko's human shield. But if that was REALLY something Samidare thought was going to happen, then she had NO REASON to not tell Kyoko the truth about everything. If they're already out to kill Kiri, then OF COURSE it's smartest to warn her about it! So: Why the "last letter"? What made you think you were fucked, Yui?

In the end, ROM's overarching mission is both a success and a failure. Do they take away Kyoko's main emotional attachment, making her withdraw even further into pure logic so she'll avoid getting hurt? Yes. Do they make her deny the value of such attachments in the first place, resulting in her staying isolated forever after? No. She 95% knows she's right about Samidare's innocence in spite of ROM's attempts to frame her; it's just the pain of the loss that makes Kyoko withdraw, not some grander conclusion about distrusting everyone. In fact? I'd argue that Kyoko's speech in DR1's Chapter 4 about accounting for emotions is a strong rebuke of ROM's entire view of the world.

....by the way, does ROM have their own copy of Junko's talent??! It sure seems like they're another "Ultimate Analyst," essentially; able to see patterns of behavior so clearly that they can essentially predict most future events.

[ginger-snap-talkin-nonsense]

Why do the writers at King of the Hill expect us to see Cotton Hill as anything other than evil (and not in a "funny"/"love to hate him" way) when he sexually abuses Luanne and almost sexually abuses Bobby in the first episode that he's formally introduced? Shouldn't it reflect badly on Hank as a guardian that he allows Bobby to be alone with his abuser after that?

This can't even be blamed on the better writers leaving the show in the later seasons. This was in the first season, and Cotton never gets better considering that he tortures Bobby by putting him in solitary confinement for three days in season 7.

Okay, so just to clarify off the bat, the sexual abuse anon is referring to is in Cottons debut where he smacks Luanne's ass and then is immediately responded to with a threat if he tries it again, and a failed attempt at taking him to a place he remembers being a brothel, but I think this anon is getting at the heart of a bigger issue regarding how people think critically about character writing.

Cotton Hill is a bad person. Full stop. He was an abusive husband and father when Hank was a child and even in his shallowed love of his new wife and kid, he's still repugnant, misogynistic, bigoted, etc.

But that's a feature, not a bug because Cotton exists in relation to Hank.

You see, King of the Hill has a running theme (at least in the pre flash era) of change and how we confront trauma in the face of that change. Cotton as a character was abused himself-first by his military boarding school which the mere thought of puts him in the only tears we see him in in the series, then by enlisting in World War 2 at age 15 where he was physically disabled, watched his friends die, was ripped from the woman who he fell in love with, and then discharged and left broken and impoverished.

And Cotton does anything he can to run from accepting that he was traumatized by all of that. He treats it like it's made him strong and better, he wears his misery like a badge of honor and refuses kindness and sympathy as a result.

Thanks to this idea of what iteams to hurt, he turned those ideas onto Hank growing up. Cotton was a lot of things but he wasn't (as far as we know in the show) physically abusive, but he was mentally and emotionally abusive and that led to Hank believing a lot of negative things about sharing feelings or gender roles.

And then he meets Peggy who starts dismantling the stigmas about the gender binary and has Bobby who dismantles his feelings about feelings. A lot of Cotton episodes are in relation to how Hank is raising Bobby right by unpacking the unhealthy environment he grew up in with his wife and striving to be better. This happens with Peggy and her mother as well but to a far lesser extent.

Beyond that, Cotton represents how complicated emotions can be in regards to bad people you have sympathy for. Hank, despite learning to see the many flaws with his father, still wants a healthy and positive relationship with his dad. The show never knocks for wanting this or continuing to strive for it, rather it tells Hank that he can't force anyone else into his shit like his wife or son.

Meanwhile Peggy despises Cotton for all he's done to Hank and how he treats women, and the show never knocks her either. Peggy is entirely within her rights to hate him and the closest they ever get a mutual respect for how strong they've been while getting past their hardest moments.

Cotton may deserve sympathy for what he's been through, but does that mean you can forgive him for all the terrible things he did as a result of his unchecked trauma and the time he grew up in? The show doesn't have an answer, it's up to each individual person, and no answer is wrong.

That's why Cotton is a strong character. There's nuance to him and how he interacts with the other characters. He furthers the shows central theme and introduces his own.

A written bad person does not equate to bad character writing

[goodlookingforagirl]

Speaking of vinyl records, I’ve downsized my vinyl collection by almost 50% these past few months, because I realized that I was buying stuff I didn’t even like that much in an attempt to seem “cool”. I started hanging out at local record stores last year and even worked at one for a couple of months earlier this year. I quit for a lot of reasons, but one factor was just how…performative I became? My coworkers knew so much about so many cool bands, and I started to feel embarrassed about the artists I liked. I bought records I didn’t even like that much to gain their approval. For example, I like The Velvet Underground enough to have some of their songs on my playlists, but not enough to spend $30 on a new pressing of theirs. But I did just that — twice — to look “hip” or whatever.

It didn’t help that my own taste wasn’t considered highbrow enough. I mentioned that I like Donovan and one of my coworkers called him a “sleepy hippie” and then told me about underground jazz instead. I occasionally mentioned Mike Nesmith to coworkers and customers but mostly got blank stares until I clarified, “He was in the Monkees,” and that was met with lukewarm approval (with the exception of one coworker who knew what was up, who I still consider a friend). I eventually stopped mentioning my favorite artists when I realized they weren’t impressive enough.

Music shouldn’t be about who’s cool and who’s not. You’re not better than someone because you like Frank Zappa and they like The Mamas and the Papas. But in my experience, vinyl culture is often all about bragging. It’s about who has the biggest collection, who has the original pressings, who likes the most obscure thing possible. And once I saw how I was falling into the trap, I took a huge step back. I still visit some record stores, but I don’t buy things “just because” anymore, and I don’t hang out at them much, either.

I don’t know why I wrote all this out…I guess it’s because most of my mutuals are into music, mostly classic rock like I am, and I just wanted to assure anyone who might’ve felt like I did. This isn’t a contest like many music bros make it out to be. You’re not lame for preferring CDs to vinyl records. You’re not lame if your favorite record cost $5 and isn’t a rare pressing. It’s okay if you only own 5 vinyls and don’t care about expanding your collection. You can love music and only be passionate about a handful of artists. You don’t have to perform a hobby for anyone.

Art shouldn’t be reduced to a collection of objects. It’s supposed to be loved for what it is. Spending $50 on a vinyl doesn’t mean you love that album more than the person who listens to it for free on YouTube.

That’s all. I just needed to get that out.

[vraisetzen]

https://www.tumblr.com/vraisetzen/767046956775342080/historians-will-say-that-they-were-best?source=share

hi v,

i'm afraid i'm not a 'shipper,' but i'd be curious to know:

what are your top ten favourite anime ships?

Hi! Thank you for your question!

To be honest, I've left my shipping days far behind me especially since I got into writing Reader Inserts — I can't even remember the last time I rooted enthusiastically for a ship (besides Garashir and Janeway/Chakotay from Star Trek DS9 and Voyager).

(Also, I just wanna quickly clarify that I don't actually ship Mizuki and Gegero, even if I do see/understand why they're very popular when I saw the film. I was just awestruck by the official art, haha)

And I know there's currently a ton of debate surrounding shipping, to which I'd like say that I seldom have any icks or squicks when it comes to pairings. If I dislike a ship, it's probably because of a bad experience I had with their fans. However, I would add that my favourite ships are pretty vanilla and tame, and more often than not the result of my asking, "What if these two randoms were placed in a room with one bed together?" I love a niche pairing with zero fics written for them on AO3, lol.

So yeah, I'm gonna spotlight some of my niche pairings that I enjoy quite a fair bit! All of them are het and slash ships, I'm afraid, out of sheer coincidence that most of my favourite characters are male. I do love femslash/yuri ships as well, but they're generally quite popular, so I wouldn't be contributing anything new. They're not ranked in order of preference because I love them all!

Hijikata/Otae, Gin Tama: I love Otae so, so much, and I think she gets a ton of unwarranted hate from a vocal minority of the fandom on Twitter and Reddit. The GinTae vs GinTsu debate is still very real in 2024, but I think my girl deserves a man who earns a stable income and doesn't denigrate her appearance.

Koenma/Botan, Yu Yu Hakusho: The first of many niche pairings to come. Botan is such a lovely girl who is friendly with every one, but I get a kick out of imagining the two of them getting into all sorts of trouble and shenanigans whilst nagivating the bureaucratic hell that is, well, Hell, and falling in love in the process. And have you see the official art of them together? It's so cute!

Ogata/Sai, Hikaru no Go: I was so disappointed when I didn't find any content of them both! I think Ogata would have gone insane had he been the one to stumble upon Sai's Go board, before falling in love with him, and then into despair as he realised he cannot touch the one person he loved and idolised the most.

Muzan/Tamayo, Kimetsu no Yaiba: As a KnY fic writer, I feel obliged to include at least one ship from this fandom. I love all canon and fanon pairings in this work (a rare thing for me, personally), but I especially love the divorced couple dynamic between them both. The most recent season finale cemented that belief for me, and I do spend a lot of time brainrotting over their past before Muzan encountered Yoriichi.

Kusakabe/Utahime, Jujutsu Kaisen: I stumbled upon this fanart a long time ago, and thought: "Spectacular; give me 14 of them right now." He's an experienced First-Grade sorcerer who's honestly not the best teacher, she's a Second-Grade sorcerer who loves her students — they bond over their mutual irritation for Gojo and absolutely hooked up during the exchange event.

Shunsui/Ukitake, Bleach: What's there not to love about Old Men Yaoi? I've loved these two ever since I saw them, individually and a pairing, and I don't I will ever forgive Kubo for separating them in TYBW (albeit in a good way). The Hell arc was just the icing on the cake — a reverse star-crossed lovers, if you will.

Ryoga/Ranma, Ranma 1/2: I love a small-stakes rivalry, and there's something very cute about a guy who absolutely does not care about the gender of his opponent and will stop at nothing to fight them.

Shishiba/Osaragi, Sakamoto Days: Let it be known that I've clocked this couple ever since they first appeared in the manga, and I staunchly believe that they're endgame. Chapter 161 was everything — nothing can convince me otherwise that they're just mentor and mentee. Have you ever seen a mentee stroke her mentor's cheek as he laid bleeding on the ground, saying: "I'll be right back. Don't die"? Yeah, I thought so.

Mitsui/Yohei, Slam Dunk: I wish I could give a better explanation for why I love them so much, but really — the moment I saw Yohei beating the crap out of Mitsui with relative ease and zero effort despite being the smaller guy, I just felt the yaoi monster stirring in its sleep and shaking my bones. A former student athlete-turned-delinquent crossing paths with an actual delinquent makes for such fantastic tension, really.

Jotaro/Kira, JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: I actually thought very long and hard about my favourite JJBA ship, because, like KnY, I love all of the characters and have no issue with either canon or fanon pairings. But then, I saw this fanart of JoKira/KiraJo, and it scratched such a specific itch inside my head that I have not been the same ever since.

Here it is! I had an fun time thinking about my favourite ships and choosing those that were truly obscure; some of them — HijiTae and ShunUki — are fairly popular, but I think my preference for them trumped any other rarepair I could have thought of for that fanbase.

xoxo, V ♥️