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soulerflaire · 6 months ago

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Felt like rating more anime I've watched recently or am currently watching.

Skip and Loafer

Summary: Mitsumi, a girl growing up in the country, moves to Tokyo to attend a prestigious high school. Her first day, she runs into Sousuke, the most popular guy in school, and they become friends.

Sounds like fairly standard high school romance anime, which I usually am not particularly interested in, but the writing in this one is far better than most. The characters act like real people with complicated, messy emotions that they are still learning to deal with. Also notably, Mitsumi doesn't immediately fall head over heels for Sousuke, nor does he immediately fall for her. Even by the end of the season, they're just good friends, though it's clear feelings are developing on both sides. The focus of the show is less on the romance and more on the characters themselves. Mitsumi's ambition mixed with uncertainty and anxiety in a new environment, Sousuke's past weighing him down and his popularity affecting his interactions with people, Mika's realization of her own jealous and petty nature and her attempts to break free from it, Makoto and Yuzuki overcoming their preconceptions about each other.

But even without all of that, I still very much like the show for something major it did: it included a trans character and treated her with respect. I've talked about this before, but the inclusion of Nao as a character is so well done. She's never once the butt of a joke, or made out to be creepy or bad. Mitsumi lives with Nao in Tokyo, and Nao's a loving and caring aunt who offers advice and support to Mitsumi whenever she needs it. Most animes that include trans characters either make them "guy in a dress" jokes or demonize them as unstable or dangerous (even some of my favorite shows are guilty of this). But Skip and Loafer puts Nao into the position of a caring mentor figure (not just to Mitsumi, but to Mika too) as well as a competent and successful stylist. And even beyond that, the show doesn't make a big deal out of her being trans. Rather than Nao being "the trans character", she is just a character who happens to be trans. I hope this is the beginning of a trend of anime treating trans people better. 8/10.

The Wrong Way to Use Healing Magic

Summary: Usato and his two classmates Inukami and Ryusen are summoned to another world on their way home from school. In typical isekai fashion, they were summoned to defeat the Demon Lord, and are granted magical powers. However, once the large and imposing Rose, leader of the kingdom's team of healers, learns that Usato has an affinity for healing magic, she grabs him and hauls him over to the healer team's base for intensive training.

I love the general premise of how Rose teaches Usato to use healing magic. Rather than allow him to become a physically weak caster, she puts him through hellish physical training and forces him to use his healing magic to instantly recover so that he can train more, pushing him harder and harder until he learns to constantly cast healing magic on himself to reinforce his body, allowing him to perform inhuman feats of strength and endurance. I also love that pretty much everyone else in the world thinks Rose is completely insane for using healing magic this way and slowly goes from pitying Usato to wondering about his sanity as he progresses in his training.

The show generally has a very light tone, poking fun at some isekai tropes, but there is a heavy undertone about the horrors of war. There's a reason Rose is training Usato so hard. And when the time comes for Usato to step onto the battlefield as a member of the Rescue Team, the show almost completely drops the light tone, only bringing it fully back after the battle ends.

I thoroughly enjoyed every episode, and I like all of the characters a lot. I am a little worried about the potential harem forming, with both Inukami and Felm clearly crushing on Usato, but I'm hoping it's just a love triangle and doesn't develop into a full blown harem. I have so little patience for those these days. 8/10, if the show doesn't continue I will absolutely have to read the manga.

Ningen Fushin: Adventurers Who Don't Believe in Humanity Will Save the World

Summary: Four adventurers, Nick, Tiana, Zem, and Curran, have all been betrayed by people they trusted completely and have become disillusioned with the world. They happen to meet at a tavern and drown their sorrows together. The following morning, they decide to form an adventuring party, promising to never trust each other and to never interfere with each others' personal lives.

What I love most about this show is that, of course, they all immediately begin trusting each other and become a found family. They constantly talk about distrust, but their actions say otherwise. I love their interactions so much, I could watch entire episodes of them bantering.

I think it's also interesting the way the show handles their trauma. All four of them have unhealthy coping mechanisms that cost a lot of money: Nick has become an idol otaku, blowing all his money on merch. Tiana is addicted to gambling and, despite being quite good at it, still gambles too much and always loses money in the end. Zem spends almost every night drinking at a hostess club. And Curran is obsessed with food, using all her money to eat at fancy restaurants. All four of their addictions are clearly coping mechanisms filling the holes their betrayals left, and while these habits are unhealthy for all of them, the habits also keep them from falling into despair. They're both distractions from the group's pasts and goals to strive for: keep working, keep earning money, keep living, so they can keep enjoying their vices.

It's a found family show that focuses a lot on trust, trauma, and the complex lives everyone has. Even antagonist characters get backstories that explain (but don't excuse) their actions. And it balances the heavy subject matter very well with humor, so the show never feels like a downer. 8/10.

Kaiju No. 8

Summary: In a world where monstrous kaiju regularly attack civilization, Kafka Hibino works as part of the cleanup crew that handles the aftermath of kaiju attacks. He once aspired to join the Kaiju Defense Force, but gave up after failing the exam repeatedly. He meets Reno Ichikawa, a young man who plans to enlist and who encourages Kafka to take another try at the exam. Before that happens, however, they are caught in a kaiju attack and end up in the hospital. While there, Kafka is infected by a small kaiju, and is transformed into a new type of kaiju.

Despite having a similar premise of kaiju attacking humanity, Pacific Rim is not a good comparison for the show. The Kaiju Defense Force doesn't use giant robots, they use special combat suits created from materials harvested from kaiju corpses. The kaiju themselves have specific types (seven known types, leading Kafka to be designated as a new eighth type, hence the name of the show) with a range of sizes (though all still much larger than humans).

This show is fantastic. The humor, the action, the animation, it's all top quality. It's also a wild ride and I have absolutely no idea where it's going, to be honest. It's on episode 7 right now and they just keep throwing curve balls left and right. I think my favorite aspect is that, when not in his kaiju form, Kafka is just a regular dude surrounded by typical OP anime characters. Despite weeks of training, he is unable to perform the superhuman feats the rest of the Defense Force trainees can. Initially, he can't even use the power suit properly, which makes him unable to use most of the anti-kaiju weapons because they're too heavy. That, combined with his cheerful personality, makes Kafka a relatable and endearing main character.

Also, it's nice to have a main character in his 30s, even if it's physically painful for me to hear other characters call him old. Tentative 10/10, we'll see how the rest of the season holds up.

Tonari no Yokai-san

Summary: In an alternate reality where myths and legends are normal, everyday things, the small town of Fuchigamori is home to numerous supernatural beings living alongside humans.

This show has got some feels. It starts out as very heartwarming slice of life, focusing mostly on Buchio, a recently reborn nekomata, and Mutsumi, a young human girl who idolizes Jiro, the crow tengu who watches over the town. The stories are mostly separate, though they deal with some common themes from different perspectives.

As the show goes on, it starts hitting on heavy topics about love, loss, and family, the three major themes of the show. There are still heartwarming moments to be had, but they are outnumbered by the heavy emotional moments. To me, the main message of the show so far has been "Relationships of all kinds are painful, but the good ones are worth every moment of that pain."

I love Buchio, he's such a good character. He's trying his best, and he messes up, but he keeps trying; the lil' guy just needs so many hugs. And the exploration of Jiro as a character is fascinating to me. At first he seems like this calm, confident guy who always knows the right thing to say, always knows what to do, a steadfast guardian for the town. But in time we learn that he's a person like everyone else, suffering from fear, doubt, and loss just as much as anyone, and all he can do is try his best, just like Buchio.

Also there's at least one queer couple in the show, Wagen and Kazuhiko. The show refers to them as "partners" and doesn't elaborate further, but to me at least, it's pretty clear they're a couple.

The downside to the show for me is that it is a little slow. I love the characters and their interactions, but that is literally all the show has. It's 95% people sitting around talking and having emotional moments, so it can feel kinda dull at times. I would not recommend binging it, tbh; I'm watching it weekly as it updates on Crunchyroll, and I think that's probably the best way to watch it. 7/10.

A Salad Bowl of Eccentrics

Summary: A reverse isekai where young princess Sara da Odin and her faithful knight Livia de Udis teleport to modern day Japan to escape the rebellion that overthrew their kingdom and killed Sara's parents, the king and queen. Sara meets Sosuke Kaburaya, a private investigator, and convinces him to take her in off the street.

This show definitely does not start off with a bang. It very much gives off "weak story for the purpose of jokes and fanservice" vibes, and for several episodes, it looks like that's all it has to it. But episode 7 was a turning point where I realized how well they were actually writing the characters of Sara and Sosuke.

The show basically follows two stories. One is about Livia's attempts to make a living in this world, and is mostly just jokes and fanservice. The other is Sara and Sosuke, and this one focuses much more on their character growth and dynamic. I didn't even notice how their interactions smoothly changed over time from "Guy forced to take care of child from another world" to "father and daughter" until episode 7. The episode begins with Sosuke trying to figure out how to enroll Sara into school, something she expressed interest in previously. She has no citizenship, no form of ID, and no birth certificate with which to get said ID or citizenship, and she can't be enrolled in school without those. There's a scene where they calmly discuss options, and that was the first moment that I noticed their dynamic had changed. They don't throw blame around or get mad at each other, they just discuss options, realize they can't figure out a solution, and decide to set the issue aside for the day. Even when Sosuke comments that Sara's not good enough at acting to pretend to be his daughter, Sara doesn't get defensive; she agrees with him. She realizes Sosuke is trying his best to figure it out, and Sosuke genuinely wants to find a way for Sara to go to school.

They then spend the day on a case, following a guy around to see if he's cheating on his wife. It turns out he's just dropping a bit of spare money on horse races for fun, and Sosuke and Sara end up enjoying the day together instead. At the end of it, as they're walking back to the car, Sosuke stops and says "Hey, Sara. Do you want to be my daughter for real?" and Sara says yes.

That's the point that it hit me, that these two had already become a father-daughter duo, and I just hadn't realized it. Sosuke, a man who previously hated the idea of being responsible for the well-being of this random girl, casually suggests adopting her, and Sara, a proud princess who previously considered Sosuke just a useful peon, happily agrees.

To be honest, if the show was just about Sosuke and Sara's story, I would give it a 7/10. But so much of the show is devoted to the Livia story's jokes and fanservice, it's like they're afraid their audience would get bored of a serious plot. For that, I have to knock it down to 5/10.

#rating anime #once again I ran out of time before I talked about everything I wanted to #it takes me so long to organize my thoughts into something other than 'this thing good and that thing bad'#I also considered talking about some shows that I really disliked #but decided I don't really want be super negative on these posts #maybe I'll make a separate post for shows I gave up on partway through and explain why I dropped them #try to focus on explaining why certain aspects turned me off from the shows #rather than just saying they're bad

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hexballgate · 10 months ago

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HEY U [shakes u like a baby rattle] ZARYA ASK TIME

1- what's her relationship w the other companions like? ik she's romancing karlach(?) but is she close w any of the others? is she NOT close w any of the others??

2- durge canonically loses their memories post-worm but I feel how much of them they regain is sorta up for interpretation? how much does zarya end up recovering, if any?

3- not a technical question ig but I saw u had saint bernard 2 on her playlist, why that over the first one :0

4- any fun facts or small things about her tht I might not think to ask about?!?! i love seeing tiny stuff ppl come up w for their ocs

THANKYOU for these I love talking

1. AUGH i love this question :]. Karlach is the only thing tethering Zarya to sanity, and has to constantly keep them from going on murder sprees with Astarion (who is purposefully messing w\ Karlach). His illegal invitations get worse with time just to see how long before Karlach snaps him in two. Shadowheart is shockingly trying to keep them stable as well though, secretly. Little wine talks and nights out with them. Her and Zarya are extremely close, if Zarya's not with Karlach then she's with Shadowheart. Wyll probably tries to fix them. The ultimate "With the power of friendship we can solve this!" Zarya says they hate him but secretly adores him. Zarya and Minthara are good friends as well, agd Jaheira and Minsc are like their aunt and uncle, and them and Gale show off to each other constantly (in a friendly way). They have sparing matches with Lae'zel, which calms them both down. They go for pizza afterwards (while bloody and bruised) :]. They actually hate Halsin though.

2. Some for sure!! They never fully regain their memory, but some minor ones come to them via little nostalgic items like the hopscotch in act 1. More major memories they constantly have nightmares over, and have some trouble figuring out what really happened and what's fake. Karlach and Shadowheart are working on a timeline to try and help Zarya, and are gonna surprise them with it. It doesnt help at all, but Zarya appreciates the thought. Karlach sometimes wakes up to Zarya just staring at them, and when they finally ask about it, Zarya admits they can't sleep after a particularly bad nightmare and likes reminding themself that Karlach's alive.

3. Yes actually! Zarya is still extremely morally grey even though they try their hardest to be good, and in my mind saint bernard two is accepting who you were isnt who you are, rather than saint bernard one is believing you can never be more than you were. At first Zarya believes that but with time Karlach helps them accept their past and start anew- I think they'd have a little superstitious ritual, where they both know its fake but it helps Zarya feel they're brand new. Anyway, post-game, when they start accepting that, I feel they fit more sb2 :)

4. Girl I have irrelevant facts you couldn't even dream of. This post is already long and I don't wanna induce any headaches, but pre-worm Zarya probably tortured Gortash in countless ways, while Gortash believed it was out of love. Zarya felt no such way and was just using him to sooth their desires. Also, while Zarya teaches Karlach to start slow, Karlach teaches Zarya how to start in general. Since Zarya used to show love through pain, they catch themself accidentally scratching or hurting Karlach in some way and is scared to touch her at all- but considering Karlach could of burned their skin off, she don't mind.

#THANK YOU FOR THESE 🙌#I APPRECIATE IT 🥺#bg3 #bg3 spoilers #<- I think?#karlach cliffgate #shadowheart #long post cw

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ofsootandsmoke · 1 year ago

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Sometimes, you remember all the things you did.

They are immortalized everywhere you look, and every piece is clicking into place like a puzzle you've been trying hard to figure out for months; and then, in a single moment, it's all there, and you can only be overwhelmed at the sight of it all, but you can't unsee it. The images won't go away, and someone keeps pressing rewind and play and rewind and play and rewind and play and rewind and play over and over and over and over again until you go mad. That much repetition isn't healthy, you know, and especially not of a sight that leaves you feeling everything you'd rather forget.

It's quite easy for a person to go insane. Trust me, I've done it quite a few times in my life— there's nothing easier than being tormented by the thoughts in your own brain and losing your sanity over it. No matter how much you recover, you can never really get back what you lost, forever only finding makeshifts to hold yourself together until that breaks, too. Once you lose yourself, you can never get that back. You can build yourself up into something new, but whatever you were and whoever you were will never be the same. Remember that, will you? I'm not sure in what situation that could be helpful, but it wouldn't hurt to keep it in mind. Maybe if I'd known that sooner, I wouldn't have been so careless with myself.

I wonder if any of this makes any sense to someone who still has their full sanity intact. Do my ramblings make any sense to you? Can you decipher things I put between the lines and hide in my meanings? Can you make sense of the thousands of things I've written with shaking hands and a heavy heart and an aching skull? Or is it all beyond comprehension at this point, my writings just as senseless and eccentric as I often am? Do I even have a reason to write anymore? I suppose I do. I never wrote to be understood; I wrote to convey what was going on in my head. If my sentences are senseless, then I guess I am still doing what I've always intended. Even if I make no sense, you can gauge what type of mindset I'm in. No sane man writes this much in this little time with this many run ons and commas and metaphors.

I often think about that one ask. How do you process grief? And I think, "I don't." I don't process it, but it still catches up to me on a sunny day in the middle of the street regardless. Or, currently, on a quiet night in my bed. It torments me, but don't ask what "it" is. Grief. Guilt. Sorrow. Regret. Anything that is similar to those things or is a synonym. Pain. It doesn't hold me tightly and twist my arms back and break my bones; it doesn't touch me at all. It whispers, soft and delicate, yet it feels like a million people shouting all at once. My sorrow is softer than a falling flower petal, and simultaneously, it is harsher than the strongest bomb in existence. The grief I feel could destroy nations (and it already has).

I know I make no sense. Let me be incomprehensible for a little while, but please stick around for when I come to again, even if it takes a while. My brain moves faster, so it won't take too long, I promise. Maybe for me, it takes thirteen and a half years to gather myself. Maybe for you, it takes six months to watch me piece myself back together and sew up my broken edges. It is always easier to be the viewer than the actor, and I've always been quite a character, haven't I?

As with any good character, the show must go on, I suppose. The curtains were called, and they claimed the end, but I called bullshit and tore the curtains down.

Do not clap for me; this is not my finale. There is far more to come. You just have to stay for the second act.

#wilbur's rants #insanity ramblings #severely

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fvrsaeken · 1 year ago

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it was a long process, and she wasn't entirely sure that she was completely clean. she also knew that she wouldn't ever fully recover from the events that transpired that day. the group had gotten home just after dawn, and the sun was now hanging comfortably above the horizon but the dark clouds were rolling in. judith had always kept track of the storm season and today seemed rather fitting for a rain storm. or at the very least the clouds to block out the sun. why should the sun get to see another day when hannah didn't get to? she knew she'd be asking herself that question for years to come.

when she saw him turn around, she instinctively dropped her head to stare at the ground. she couldn't look at him, not yet. she'd break sooner than she was going to allow herself if she looked at him. she needed to hang on to whatever sanity she had left for a little longer. "i think i got most of the blood off of me." though she definitely felt like some of it was still there. "don't freak out okay? but we should probably start this one." she took off her sweater, leaving her in just a tank top, revealing a large gash from halfway down her chin to the top of her chest that she had concealed just shy of an hour ago thanks to the sweater hershel had given her. "hershel got the bleeding to stop on the way back here but when i was getting cleaned up it opened up again." she figured she'd at least tell him how it happened now that everyone involved in the immediate attack was dead. "i charged at the guy who killed hannah, i got him in the leg with my knife. turns out he had one too." she explained slowly. it was a lot harder to speak once she actually registered the wound in her mind. lifting her head carefully she showed him the full extent of the mark. "got him pretty good in the end. he was walker food by the time we headed out."

she knew the full damage wasn't as great as it could have been, and that it was done more to torture her than anything, but it was deep enough that it hurt. a lot. and she knew she'd need stitches. "i'd like that. hey maybe we can play that card game that uncle aaron taught me and gracie... i think he called it war or something." she didn't know, but she could assume that her dad wasn't exactly in a "hey let's talk about what games we can play" mood after she just showed him quite possibly the worst wound she'd ever had. how she expected him to not freak out after that was beyond her, but at least she'd tried to be as calm about it as possible. "think i'm probably gonna need a hell of a nap after this."

Rick had paused outside the bathroom door, trying to listen for any sign that she was going to be okay. The sound of the sob had him reaching for the doorknob, but then he heard the water running in the tub and thought better of it. She needed her space. He did, too, so that he could collect his thoughts and his feelings before he patched her up.

He moved down the stairs and set about putting the kettle on the stove and then rummaged around in the cabinet under the sink for the bag of medical supplies that every occupied house had. He moved to the table and pulled everything out and laid them out neatly. He wasn’t sure what he’d need, but he was certain she’d need a couple stitches here and there.

It took him a moment to realize the kettle was whistling as he shook himself out of his thoughts and moved to turn off the burner. He pulled the mug from the cabinet and readied the tea ball and measured out the tea carefully. He set the ball inside the mug and poured the water slowly, letting the smell and steam rise up to his nose and helped to ground him.

He moved the mug to the table to let it finish steeping so it would be ready when she was finished upstairs. He heard her soft footsteps before he heard her apology. He turned then and shook his head. “You really think that there is anywhere else I’d want to be?” He gave her a soft smile before pulling out the chair for her. “Let’s get you patched up. Which ones are the worst?” The sooner he took care of her, the sooner she could rest.

“We can spend the day on the couch reading and playing games after you get some rest if you’d like,” he suggested softly as he pulled the bottle of antiseptic close and reached for the bag of cotton pads.

#wexarethewalkingxdead #&.* j.g. | interactions #&.* j.g. | v. free as these birds; light as whipsers

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palestinianliberator · 4 years ago

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To be Palestinian is exhausting

You will not find a single Palestinian who hasn’t had to endure all of the following and more:

Constantly having to prove our existence

[This is going to be a tremendously long post, but I implore you to read through what you can]

Constantly having to educate everyone around us on our history and people while we continue to be slaughtered

Constantly having to combat Israeli propaganda and dehumanization campaigns against us

Constantly having to combat liberal propaganda from those who simply cannot understand the pain and damage they are doing

Constantly having to defend ourselves from the overwhelming forces that stand in our way, from the Israeli forces to the global institutions that help support it to the structures in the US that mean that any Palestinian who dares speak out risk both their lives and livelihood

Constantly in fear of whether or not you’ll end up on another “list” as a result of daring to speak out

Constantly having to do it all again as soon as we’re back on the news

Constantly having to answer for all other Palestinians in a way that nobody else is expected to

Constantly being seen as the “crazy one” when trying to share your narrative, having to defend against an endless barrage of accusations of antisemitism

Constantly being put into situations by bad-faith actors who attempt to engage in “debate” or “discussion” or “dialogue” with talking points that demean and duhamanize you, all while being expected to maintain a smile and cool composure while someone literally debates to your face your own existence or how “actually it’s YOUR people’s fault you’re being slaughtered! Israel isn’t the bad guy here!”

Constantly being forced to choose between engaging in bad-faith debates framed in a way to make you look like the unreasonable bad guy while the person implicitly defending your ethnic cleansing is made to look like the “rational good guy” or looking after your own mental health, knowing that even refusing these “invitations” is itself a mark against you and your people

Constantly being told that you’re too “biased”, too “close”, too “emotional” about the literal slaughter of your people to be seen as a valid source, while Israelis and complete outsiders are given all the space they want to speak for us endlessly

Constantly seeing people being actively mislead and wondering if you have the capacity to reach out to them and attempt to share your narrative with them, knowing that if you don’t, they’re going to go on to propagate the same lies justifying your ethnic cleansing

Constantly having to combat GENUINE censorship throughout the media, social media, and society itself. It’s a fact proven by former Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and Youtube employees that Palestinian voices have their reach censored in a way no one else does, which is why it’s so important to amplify and actively share Palestinian voices rather than just liking or indicating support

Constantly being told you don’t know your own history by people who’ve educated themselves on Youtube and Wikipedia despite having lived the reality yourself and dedicating your entire life to studying every single aspect of it

Constantly seeing those who have the courage to stand alongside you being shut down with accusations of antisemitism and seeing them lose their courage to stand by you out of fear of their own image and livelihood and having to rush to their defense as well

Constantly having to see photos of your people, sometimes even people you know, maimed, injured, murdered, or burned to ash by Israeli aggression but knowing you have a duty to share what’s happening and must stomach the images to show the world the true extent of the suffering we endure

Constantly having to worry not just for your own safety, but the safety of your family and loved ones who can be punished or targeted because of things you yourself say

Constantly wondering who you can actually trust, from new friends and acquaintances to professors to even other Palestinians because we’ve been so heavily infiltrated by Israeli intelligence looking to blackmail Palestinians using anything from their sexual orientation or even made up “evidence” meant to ruin their lives

Constantly having your heart sink every notification you get wondering if it’s news that a loved one has been killed

Constantly seeing the corpses of loved ones shared on social media and reliving the trauma all over again, yet again knowing that you WANT the world to see what’s happening

Constantly seeing the effects this has on your own family and feeling helpless to do anything

Constantly on alert for the FBI at your door as they often “visit” Palestinians who dare speak out, myself included on numerous occasions

Constantly wondering if your advocacy for your people is going to result in the loss of your job, scholarship, license

Constantly being asked to “humanize” and “feel for” those who live their lives day in day out completely unfazed by your suffering despite living in a society that couldn’t even FUNCTION without our subjugation

Constantly being told “don’t blame regular Israelis, blame the government!!” as if the state itself wasn’t founded on our ethnic cleansing, as if it isn’t “normal Israelis” who make up the entirety of the Israeli Military and have actively brutalized you and your people

Seeing allies you fought for suddenly SILENT when it’s their time to speak up

Studying on a US campus where those SAME SOLDIERS WHO ENGAGED IN YOUR PERSECUTION AND ACTIVELY SERVED AS THE ENFORCERS OF YOUR OCCUPATION then re-enact the trauma against you and you’re meant to simply ignore the fact that THEY ARE THE SAME PEOPLE WHO MURDERED YOUR FRIENDS AND FAMILY, and not being allowed to even be ANGRY at that

Trying to navigate this half-life in the diaspora where it’s a struggle to connect with other Palestinians given the distance between us and yet not being able to connect with anyone around because, again, they simply can’t understand

Constantly being expected to simply give up your time to those who demand you answer them and debate your existence and narrative with them, who them take you blocking them for your own mental health as a “victory” to be lorded over you when you simply can’t take it anymore

Constantly having to EXPLAIN all of this because nobody but other Palestinians can truly understand just how pervasive, overwhelming, and incapacitating this unique form of exhaustion is

Constantly seeing your erasure and ethnic cleansing defended all over the media, all over social media, throughout your academic career, while those ENGAGED in your ethnic cleansing have the audacity to claim that the media is biased against THEM

Constantly on guard with everything you say and write, knowing that unlike those promoting our ethnic cleansing, we don’t have the luxury of making mistakes or getting lazy in our writing and advocacy. One mistaken source, mistaken information, being imperfect is enough to discredit your voice entirely

The crippling obligation you have to share the narrative of your people, knowing that so many people will view you as the spokesperson of your entire people, knowing how unfair it is, but also knowing that if you DON’T speak out, nobody will on your behalf, and even the most well-intentioned, involved allies can simply never understand how it all truly feels

Seeing the entire world stand by and do absolutely nothing while your people are slaughtered time and time again

Seeing your history misconstrued by people implicitly defending your ethnic cleansing and settler-colonialism

Knowing that our parents have been through this and more, seeing them have to go through this yet again while still being forced to go about their daily lives and given no time to mourn or recover

Not being able to even share our culture without being attacked for it

Knowing that so many of your friends and family won’t ever be able to return to their homeland while foreigners from around the globe are flown into Israel free because it’s their “birthright”

A “birthright” denied to even my own parents, born in Jerusalem yet unable to enter it

Having even self-proclaimed “allies” question Palestinian resistance, policing our tone, never /really/ understanding our pain and anger and how they themselves contribute to it

Screaming from the moment you can about what’s happening to us, desperately trying to get people to CARE, and having it often fall on deaf ears

Knowing that if you’re not the source of information for those genuinely seeking to learn, they may find themselves mislead by sources that claim to be fair and balanced while imprinting subtle lies about Palestine and Palestinians on those they engage with

Not even being able to find the energy and ability to respond to genuine messages of love and support, which are greatly appreciated, and feeling bad about it because you don’t want to seem like you’re not genuinely happy to hear it

Feeling a sense of overwhelming exhaustion in times like this while at the same time being unable to sleep

Seeing the effect all of this has had on your people, knowing your people have among the highest rates of depression on the planet and yet we’re all suffering together with no way to ease the pain

Being constantly exposed to the ways in which your people are erased and questioning if you have the energy or sanity left to deconstruct such aggression to help outsiders understand the severity of it all

Seeing allies suddenly call for “peace” when Palestinians are finally fed up enough to rise up and fight back against an overwhelming military force

I could go on, but in case you it’s not already clear, I’m tired and exhausted

Always wondering if any of this is even worth it when the world has ignored your slaughter and ethnic cleansing for nearly 8 decades, knowing that nobody is about to step in to help now.

Constantly wondering if any of this is even worth it, and then feeling inspired by fellow Palestinians, our resilience, the fact that despite ALL of this and more, we continue to fight.

Despite all of this, I would never even consider or entertain the thought of being born as anything other than Palestinian

#Palestine #Israel #Gaza #I could go on for literal hours or days #There is SO much to our pain and suffering #SO much #But I know that even trying to explain EVERY aspect of it is #itself likely to lead to a diminished audience and serve to perpetuate the very things I mentioned

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hongism · 4 years ago

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volume up - p. seonghwa 18+

day 7: public sex - park seonghwa warning: explicit smut, unprotected sex, public sex, dirty talk, exhibitionisn, creampie, sex in a karaoke room, daddy kink, breeding/impregnation kink, if u squint corruption kink wc: 1.8k genre: pwp, smut, 18+

If you had to pick one thing about Seonghwa that you love the most, it would be an easy answer. His voice. Everything about him is near perfect in your mind, but his voice has always stood out to you more than anything else. Not in a sappy, ‘I’m only saying this because we’re together’ sort of way. Rather, in the way where you could sit at the back of a karaoke room and listen to him sing for hours on end. That’s exactly what you are doing right now in fact — well, that’s what you were doing approximately ten minutes ago. Now, Seonghwa has you pressed to the back of the couch you’re sitting on, lips teasing the shell of your ear. You’re too lost in the heat of pleasure and arousal to think about how the hell you got in this position. When you’re more coherent though, you’re certain it will all boil down to the fact that Seonghwa was being a bit too sultry in his rendition of Taemin’s Move.

For now, you are more than happy to settle on the fact that Seonghwa’s lips are moving down the length of your neck and coming to a halt near the start of your collarbone. He nips at the skin, not hard enough to make you bleed, but just enough pressure to cause your nerves to light up with the sensation. You shift your hands to rest against his waist and try to twist his body. You don’t have enough strength to do so, however, so instead, you have to pull Seonghwa’s head back with your hand.

“Let me ride you,” you demand, whispering the heated words to his lips. Seonghwa clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Music still plays in the background, not loud enough to drown out your words, but loud enough for the bass to thrum in your veins.

“That’s rather bold seeing as we’re still in public,” he murmurs in response, but he doesn’t pull away from you. A breath of hesitation follows, then his warm breath cascades over your face once more. “Unless that’s why you want to do it.”

You don’t offer a strict yes or no confirmation, instead balling the material of his shirt in your fists and twisting until he now has his back against the booth. You throw a leg over his thighs and straddle him in an instant. You’re almost certain that you can feel your own arousal radiating off you in waves, but the look in Seonghwa’s eyes shows you that you aren’t alone in the feeling. He braces his hands on your hips.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he hums before tugging at the zipper of your shorts. You sit up for him, letting his hands do all the work and maneuver you however he needs to in order to toss the clothing off to the side. He doesn’t reach for your underwear though – a pretty lace pair that you know he loves – and you’re about to question him about it when he catches your curiosity. “We’ll keep those on just in case someone walks in. Can’t give them the privilege of seeing my princess fully undressed, no?”

My princess. The words cause the knot of arousal to tighten further, and you waste no time in reaching for his zipper as well. His erection strains behind it, throbbing already even though you’ve barely done anything more than a bit of kissing and grinding. Seonghwa rushes to help you and pulls his pants down just enough to let his cock loose.

“Can’t wait to have your cock inside me,” you whine as you grip the base of his leaking member. Dragging your hand up, you trace over his slit with your index finger and collect a bit of the precum there. A giggle falls from your lips when you bring that same finger to your tongue, arching a brow at Seonghwa while he watches on in a state of stunned silence. It takes several seconds, but he recovers and squeezes hard at your waist.

“You’re too much of a tease, baby girl. Just want me to ruin you anywhere and everywhere, huh?” He growls before pulling you flush against his chest. His tongue flicks over the junction of your neck and shoulder, teasing the skin there a few times before he latches on with his teeth. Your following moan is far too loud for safety, and you can only hope that the music is loud enough to drown it out. Instinctively, you clench your fingers around Seonghwa’s cock. The action elicits a moan from him as well, though he does a much better job at keeping the sound relatively contained.

“Fuck me, Hwa. I’m tired of waiting.”

“I should teach you a lesson in patience instead.” Seonghwa tsks but brings a hand down to shove your underwear to the side. There’s already a damp spot on your underwear from where some of your juices have leaked out, and Seonghwa inhales sharply as his fingers run over that wetness. “So wet already? Shame on you, princess. Not so innocent and pure after all, is it?” The words have you squirming in his lap; all the power and control you exuded earlier has gone out the window. It takes a split second for Seonghwa to gain control, and less than that for him to make you a writhing mess with only his words. “Hm, it seems like that’s it. The idea of having my dick in you makes you such a needy cockslut. How precious.”

“Pl-Please…” you trail off, unable to finish the thought without embarrassment overtaking your senses. Seonghwa pulls away from your neck to look you in the eye, but you can’t match his intense gaze. It’s Seonghwa’s turn to arch a brow, and a smirk stretches his lips a little wider.

“What is it, baby girl? What do you need me to do?” Your hand falls away from his cock and settles on his hip, chest rising and falling unevenly as you dare to look him in the eye.

“I need you to fuck me, Daddy,” you whisper. Seonghwa’s pupils expand a bit at your words, and his Adam’s Apple bobs a bit as he swallows around nothing. “Fill me up and fuck me until I’m full of your cum. Wanna feel you in me for days. Breed me like the bitch I am.” Seonghwa grips you tighter until you can feel his cock twitching against your stomach.

“Fuck, in public of all places,” Seonghwa hisses. He fumbles to lift your hips and settle his member between your legs, tip teasing your entrance with the lightest pressure. Despite his fervent movements, he penetrates you slowly and stretches you open inch by inch unit he’s fully settled in your tight walls. “You’re so tight, shit.” You wiggle a little on his lap, trying to get more comfortable but it only causes more strain to his weeping cock. “H-Hold on, princess, hold on. Don’t move yet, don’t move.”

“I’m ready for you to fuck me,” you protest. You throw a small pout out to accentuate your words in the hopes that Seonghwa will fall for your pleading eyes. It works like a charm because a moment later, Seonghwa rolls his hips against yours. His length presses deeper in you but it’s not enough for either of you. You lift your hips to meet his thrusts, shifting your weight onto your knees so that he can fuck up into you with more force and ease. The new angle has you seeing stars, and just bracing yourself on his shoulders isn’t enough to keep you upright. You drop your head to Seonghwa’s shoulder, moaning into the skin rather than the open air.

“You’re so desperate for Daddy’s cock that you’ll take it anywhere,” Seonghwa groans, words caressing your hairline.

“I-I’m a good s-slut for you, Daddy.”

“Yes, baby girl, such a good slut taking my dick so well.” You drop your hips back onto his cock and try to match the brutal pace he’s started. Seonghwa guides you through the thrusts. The lewd sound of skin slapping skin fills the air, even though the two of you try to keep the volume of your moans to a minimum, you can’t conceal the sound of your fucking. Seonghwa drops a hand to the couch and fumbles around for a few moments without losing his pace for a second. Taemin’s vocals increase in volume, pulsing louder in your ears, and you’ve lost track of how many times the sound has played on repeat in the background.

Your body remains alight with pleasure, walls clenching hard around Seonghwa as he continues to ram against your sweet spot time and time again. For a moment, you forget where you are and lose yourself completely in the addicting feeling of Seonghwa’s cock gliding in and out of your hole. You wish you could say something other than ‘yes’ but that seems to be the only word in your vocabulary in the heat of the moment. Seonghwa only makes your sanity devolve further into nothingness as he continues to whisper pure filth into your ear.

“You’re such a whore for my cum. Just want me to breed you like a bitch in heat.” That alone is nearly enough to bring you over the edge, but you cling to him a little tighter and attempt to stave off the orgasm as long as you can.

“Fu-uck me full of your cum, Daddy. I want my – ah, m-my tummy to swell with your cum,” you babble. Seonghwa takes control of your hips, and you’re grateful for it because you can’t keep the pace up any longer thanks to your aching muscles.

“Cum for me first, princess.”

It’s all the permission you need to let go, and your lips fall open in a silent scream as you reach your high. Seonghwa fucks you through it, pace slowing down considerably as not to overwhelm you, but you can tell that he’s about ready to burst at the seams himself. It doesn’t last much longer than that, and Seonghwa pulls you all the way down before spilling his hot seed inside you. The sensation combined with your still-rolling orgasm has your vision blurring at the edges. That darkness lingers until your high passes, and when you finally come down, Seonghwa is there to greet you with a hasty kiss on the lips.

“You’d better hope you can keep all my cum in you until we get home,” he says, pulling back just enough to breathe the words.

“And if I don't?”

“I don’t think you’ll particularly enjoy not cumming for a week, will you?”

...

a/n: hi @beefyjoon ily i hope u enjoy :3

link to kinktober masterlist

taglist: @noonawriter @daniblogs164 @felixity @okokokok123-45 @jeonartemis @crescent-hwa @km-98 @wheresmymoniat @nlost21 @lonely10vely @atletino @monbecaratstayarmy @hello-its-ya-boi @succulentpk @onyxblade01 @kimnamshiks @poutychangbinnie @toothlessshiber @xxbluestrifexx @lokihoeforhyunjin @ice-cold-taeyong @essantial @blueish-sun @etaerealboy @notbeforelong @wideawakeficrecs @adestinyuwu @simpforhyunjin @naajix @lilyliline21 @leaz-kpop-life @hyunjinsicedamerican0 @marigold-bebee @changbinswifu @xcookiemonsteer @ddalgi-yong

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#ateez kinktober #atz kinktober #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #ateez scenario #ateez scenarios #ateez drabble #ateez drabbles #seonghwa smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa imagine #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa drabble #seonghwa drabbles #seonghwa scenario #seonghwa scenarios

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theoutcastrogue · 3 years ago

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June 30, 1876: Peter Kropotkin Escapes from Prison

[by CrimethInc. | December 2021]

Born on December 9, 1842 into an aristocratic family in Tsarist Russia, Peter Kropotkin developed radical ideas in the course of his scientific research. In 1874, a few hours after he presented a well-received report regarding glacial formations to the Geographical Society, he was arrested and accused of subversive activity. The following narrative, derived from his own memoir and other historical documents, details his escape from a St. Petersburg prison two years later.

The year 1876 arrives with wintry breath. Two years in the Tsar’s prisons have taken their toll on Peter Kropotkin. Though still in his early thirties, he has suffered scurvy, malnutrition, rheumatism, and a series of debilitating illnesses. Kropotkin’s brother has been exiled to Siberia; many of his fellow prisoners have died or lost their sanity, and he is approaching the end of his rope. Fearing that he too will die before his trial begins, the authorities transfer him to a hospital prison.

Here, with fresh air and a window that admits sunlight, he immediately begins to recover—if anything, too quickly, he fears. He takes great care to play the invalid so they don’t transfer him again.

One afternoon, a guard whispers magic words to him: “Ask to be taken out for a walk.”

Peter Kropotkin exercising with a wooden stool in the Fortress of Peter and Paul before his transfer to the hospital prison. An illustration he drew himself.

The yard is three hundred paces long, and at the other end of it is a gate—an open gate. Beyond the sentry box, Kropotkin can see people and vehicles passing on the street.

He is permitted to walk back and forth in a line perpendicular to the yard. A sentry accompanies him, five paces away, always between him and the gate. However, as nothing wearies a healthy young man more than moving at a snail’s pace, the sentry often drifts a few steps ahead. With a mathematician’s eye, Kropotkin guesses that if he bolts at such a moment, the guard will run toward him, rather than ahead to block his path; thus, while he will travel in a straight line, his pursuer will have to move in an arc, and it might be possible to retain his lead.

When he returns to his cell, he can barely steady his hands to scratch out a message to smuggle to his comrades:

“This nearness of liberty makes me tremble as if I were in a fever. They took me out today in the yard; its gate was open, and no sentry near it…”

An illustration from the hand of Peter Kropotkin, showing him in the window of the prison.

The flannel dressing gown will not do: it drags on the ground, and he is forced to carry the lower part over his arm the way courtly ladies carry their trains. But his captors will not permit him any other garment.

Between visits from the guard, he practices throwing it off in two swift movements. The guard passes his door, glancing in to see Kropotkin lying in his sickbed; a moment later, Kropotkin is on his feet, whipping the gown over his head and casting it away; another moment, and he is back in the bed, wearing the gown, ready for the guard’s next pass.

The day comes—June 29, 1876. The signal is to be a single red balloon ascending into the sky. Kropotkin takes off his hat to show that he is ready; he hears the rumble of a carriage in the street and scans the horizon, heart pounding—but there is nothing, the sky remains empty. Finally, his time is up, and he is led back to his cell. Convinced that his comrades have been captured, he speculates gloomily that he will learn what happened from them when he is transferred back to the fortress to die.

In fact, as it turned out, on that morning, there was not a single red balloon for sale in all the markets of St. Petersburg. At length, his friends obtained an old one from a child, but it no longer flew. In desperation, they bought a red rubber ball and attempted to inflate it with hydrogen; but when they released it, it floated only a few feet up, stopped just short of the top of the courtyard wall, and drifted back down to them. Finally, they tied it to the top of a woman’s umbrella, and she walked back and forth on the street, holding the umbrella as high above her head as she could—but not high enough.

As it turned out, this was a stroke of luck. After Kropotkin’s walk was over, when the carriage departed along the route that would have been used for his escape, it was stopped short in traffic by a line of carts.

Another illustration by Julian Watson from Kropotkin Escapes, currently being reprinted by Detritus Books.

“A present from an admirer.” The guard passes a small watch through the bars. Kropotkin goes to the window to watch the woman departing unhurriedly toward the boulevard. If she is whom he thinks she is, she is risking her life by stepping within those walls.

He examines the watch. At first, it seems unremarkable; but when he pries the case open, there is a tiny scrap of paper pressed against the clockwork. His hands tremble again as he decodes the cipher.

Two hours later, Kropotkin is led out for his walk—perhaps the last before transfer. Again, he hears a carriage on the boulevard; again, he takes off his cap. On cue, a distant violin takes up a cheerful melody. His heart is racing as he shambles slowly along the footpath. He glances at the soldier, taking in the man’s powerful frame and the bayonet shining on the end of his rifle—and beyond him, across the yard, the open gate.

At the end of the path, he turns around; as usual, the soldier has drifted a few paces ahead. The time has come. He straightens his body and seizes the gown to throw it over his head—but the violin stops! He forces a cough and casts a furtive glance at the sentry, who is none the wiser.

A quarter of an hour passes. Time is running out. Finally, a line of carts enters the gate, one by one, parking at the other end of the yard.

The violinist resumes immediately, striking up a wild mazurka. Kropotkin shuffles again to the end of the path, terrified that the music will cease once more before he reaches it. When he turns around, he sees that his attendant has fallen several paces behind: the guard is facing away, contemplating the peasants unloading the carts. There will never be another chance like this.

In a flash, the dressing gown is on the ground and he is sprinting across the grass. At first, he attempts to economize his strength, as it has been years since he has been able to run—but then the peasants drop their bundles and charge after him, shouting to attract the attention of the guard, who takes off in pursuit as well. Then he runs like a man possessed.

He hears the footsteps of the guard behind him, curses and panting as close as the pulse pounding in his ears. The soldier is swinging his bayonet, nearly grazing Kropotkin’s skin; were he not so close, he would undoubtedly fell the fugitive with a bullet. Yet the prince somehow keeps a single step ahead of him, and the two cross the entire field this way.

Another sentry is posted at the gate of the hospital, directly across from the waiting carriage. Kropotkin and his pursuers are charging right towards him, but he is engaged in furious argument with a seemingly drunken peasant about a certain parasite of the human body:

“And did you know what a tremendous tail it has?”

“What, man, a tail?” scoffs the soldier. “That’s enough of your tales!”

“It does, a tail! Under the microscope, it’s this big!” He stretches out his arms as Kropotkin, the soldier, and the peasants come storming through the gate in a mad procession.

An illustration by Kropoktin showing his escape from the hospital prison.

Ahead, Kropotkin sees the carriage, now only a leap and a bound away; but the coachman is facing away from him. Kropotkin almost shouts out his comrade’s name, then catches himself and claps his hands instead. The coachman glances around and immediately rouses his horse, crying out, “Get in, quick, quick!” Kropotkin’s foot is on the running board. His comrade is waving a revolver in the air: “Go, go! I’ll kill you, you bastards!”

“Stop them! Get them!” But the horse is already galloping down the boulevard. Kropotkin’s friend pushes an elegant overcoat and top hat into his hands. They take the first turn so sharply that the carriage almost turns on its side, but the two men throw themselves inward, righting it. They exchange a glance of disbelief.

Behind them, the gate of the prison is in an uproar. The officer of the guard has rushed out at the head of a detachment, but cannot regain his head to give orders. “Catch him! Chase him! Curse you, you imbeciles, I am ruined!” A man carrying a violin appears, asking everyone in turn what happened, who escaped, where he went, and what they think they will do. He takes special care to express his sympathy at length to the flustered officer. An old peasant woman in the crowd plays Cassandra: “They’re bound to make directly for Nevsky Prospekt. If you take these horses, you could easily intercept them.” No one pays her any mind.

An illustration by Peter Kropotkin, showing him escaping in the open carriage pulled by the horse Barbarian; two years later, Barbarian assisted Kropotkin’s friend Stepniak in escaping, as well, after Stepniak assassinated the chief of the Russian secret police.

Kropotkin and his comrade gallop all the way down Nevsky, finally pulling up at the Kornílov house. His sister-in-law is waiting there with Aleksandra Kornílova; they shave off the fugitive’s long beard and give him a change of clothes. Then Kropotkin and his comrade take a cab out to the Gulf of Finland, where they watch the sun setting through the open sky toward the island of Kronstadt.

Meanwhile, the police are raiding houses all over St. Petersburg in a desperate bid to recapture the escapee. They must find a place to hide out until it is late enough to go to the safe house. “How about Donon?” his partner suggests, naming the city’s most fashionable restaurant. “No one will think to look for you there!”

They sweep through a brightly lit hall crowded with high society and take the room reserved for private parties. Kropotkin’s comrades show up one by one, giddy and famished. This is the last time they will all be together.

The friends pass a joyous evening eating and drinking, telling old stories, and collapsing in laughter. “What, man, a tail?”

[source]

#long post #daring escape #the phantom of liberty #prison #Pyotr Kropotkin #exemplars

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 3 years ago

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why does jean warn up to mc so quickly? ikevamp makes it clear that jean is a pretty reserved person and doesn't open up or let people in easily but he seems to let mc in quite quickly and it confuses me quite a bit.

Oh boy, where to begin with this one.

Well, I have a lot of Feelings^TM about this, but I'll try to be concise. Essentially, I think Jeanne doesn't recover in the other routes--or the general storyline--largely because he's just a lot to unpack narratively speaking. And without some pretty direct intervention, he has a hard time healing. MC’s direct intervention was meaningful because it was focused, consistent, and adapted to Jeanne’s specific needs. She also doesn’t make light of his experiences which is key; she fully understands that she can’t fathom what he’s been through. There is a very weighty respect and acknowledgement, a seriousness with which she treats his wounds that’s important.

It’s easy to make this a “why is MC nOt LiKe ThE oThEr GiRlS” but honestly that’s just not the sense I get when I look at all the information available to us.

That being said, I also just feel like every person's recovery from traumatic events doesn't really look the same? I mean Leonardo’s cptsd isn’t going to operate the same way Jeanne’s wartime/Inquisition cptsd is going to operate. Some people require very individualized healing, others will often require a large scale group effort to lift them up.

Typically people don't ever just get over what happened to them and never worry about it again, either. It's usually a process of coping; the hope is that with time you find healthy ways to deal with grief and move forward. Therapists aren't magicians, they just help people process painful experiences/thoughts. It's honestly up to individuals to find meaningful ways to implement these tactics.

Tl; dr: My contention is that Jeanne doesn’t open up or choose to stay alive because MC magically heals him, rather his recovery is a convergence of many people’s efforts and hopes that he stays alive. Gilles (he insists that Jeanne must live, asks him to promise), MC (affirms and bolsters that promise), Comte (makes a second life and recovery possible)--and in no small measure Mozart and Napoleon--all make an active effort to buoy him. As people often say, it takes a village to raise a child.

While Jeanne seems to respond most powerfully to MC’s attempts, it feels more like a product of chemistry/compatibility than it does a random cop out. There is no insinuation that only romantic love can heal; after all, MC gets close to him without any romantic intentions at first. They’re just good friends? It’s more that their feelings simply moved in a different direction after a point, which doesn’t necessarily happen all the time. Jeanne is also incredibly moved by Mozart’s love for him as a friend, Comte’s love for him as a father, and even Gilles’ love as a comrade to an extent. If anything, without their input Jeanne’s capacity for romantic love would be questionable at best.

Now, because I can never for the life of me stop analyzing, I have a more large scale outline of my thoughts below. Spoilers for Jeanne’s route:

If we look at Jeanne's life history, he has pretty specific trauma. Most of the harm he endured was a direct result of human rights violations after the war itself. He didn't enjoy fighting and killing people, but he's also very much a man that sees the reality of his position: it's either kill or be killed. His entire goal was to defeat the enemy as efficiently as possible in the hopes of ending conflict, and with his enormous resolve turns the tide. He had no innate interest in inflicting harm, or lack of control when engaging. He isn't pathological about it, and doesn’t dehumanize the other side. He was more "this was an act of necessity, but those are still human beings." So as far as I can tell he has a very strong moral compass and sense of duty, he doesn't show much delusion/confusion in that regard. (Also evident in his conversations with the young orphan boy.) Furthermore, he has been shown to have a sense of humor--cracking jokes with Gilles and boosting morale for his fellow soldiers.

His childhood abandonment is significant (he left his home because he was "not an adequate farmhand and they had no ability to feed all their children") but I don't know if I would consider it a huge trauma point for him. It seems as though he deemed it an act of necessity--not spite. It was simply the way of things, and he couldn't help his wiry constitution. You'd be surprised how common that was once upon a time, tbh... While it's certainly not right or fair, it does appear that in his perception it was the choice he made and he moved on after he became a soldier. Just focusing on what he could do, rather than everything he lacked. For people in his position, they often feel it is useless to linger on what should have been. There’s no time to linger or doubt, life hangs in the balance.

That leaves us with his time under the Inquisition, just before he was slated to be burned alive. I think this is the keystone trauma point for him, because there are a lot of moving parts to his powerlessness here. The first part is that his entire life's mission--ending the war so that people would no longer have to die and/or starve as a result of senseless violence--was just sabotaged. All those years of doing things he never wanted to do (wartime violence) and being forced to leave his family to ensure they didn't all starve, all of it treated like some kind of joke. Like he didn't sacrifice years of his life and sanity to protect a people who were happy to call him a monster and watch him burn alive. The second part is the overt gaslighting and rewriting of Jeanne's personal history (and overall French public perception) for the sake of the King's political agenda. To call him a treasonous danger to the country when he was once lauded a hero. The third portion is the actual physical helplessness of being arrested, starved, and continuously maimed for no reason beyond pure malice. While it's never right to do that to any human being, this was done to a man who prided himself on his stalwart moral code. To abuse and torture him for something egregious that he would never do (at the risk of death) is just another slap in the face to everything he is and believes in.

I just feel like the context clarifies why that period of time would be the tipping point. His entire moral code and life’s work is being called into question and swept aside, as well as his agency? He believes very powerfully in a sense of right vs wrong, what's fair and what isn't fair. Somebody else deciding that for him--and deciding in a way that is openly unfair/incorrect--further makes him lose himself and his sense of reality. A person in that situation begins to doubt if they are good or bad. His belief in god all the more pressing; if he was a good person, why would fate bring him so much suffering? Honorable soldier or not, his blade has drawn so much blood...

People often reference his stilted social skills (and I am of the belief that he is on the autistic spectrum) as a reason why he is so "people-adverse" but tbh? I don't agree. His memories before the onset of this trauma reveal that he was actually a very warm person, and that people were more than willing to fight under his banner. He had friends, and he had comrades--his country loved him. He was the picture of well-meaning civic duty. Just because he doesn’t integrate smoothly into larger social groups or adapt well to socially shifting circumstances, doesn’t mean he just hates people lmao. When people give him the space to exist within his comfort zone and don’t take advantage of him, he thrives. Compounded by that, we also have his actions in the present to further prove what is true and what isn't.

While he is stern with the orphan boy (I'm sorry I can't remember his name, damn it) there is no malice or cruelty in what he has to say. He doesn't punish the kid or do anything out of line. It may not be fair in terms of the adult level of discretion he asks of him, but the kid also didn't have a lot of options realistically speaking lmao. Same thing with MC, she and the orphan boy are nearly identical in how Jeanne treats them. He's a little rough, but the route reveals that his intentions are just a reflection of what he's been through. He truly believes that if a person isn't strong, they won't survive--because his entire life was a series of trying to be strong/reliable because nobody else would. There was nobody to protect him, and nobody to care for him went things went south. It was him and his sword against the world, and even his exceptional skill as a fighter did not protect him from the Inquisition's arbitrary torture. He has lived in a world where good acts can become absolutely meaningless, where following rules and helping people still gets you slaughtered. That's going to take a considerable toll on his mental health: where do you find the will to go on when the next second of your life could mean the devastation of everything that matters to you?

Spoilers: you don't. Or if you do, every minute of the day is a fight to stay alive. That is the point at which we meet Jeanne. Caught in the hellish whirlpool of wanting more, wanting better--but being terrified of the cost. The cost of hoping, only for his entire world to go up in flames again. It's not a small thing, in my view.

If you have any doubts as to whether or not that is the case, I direct you to literally every singular instance in which Jeanne's emotional sensibility goes visibly dark/south. When do these instances happen? When it rains, for one. And when Shakespeare deliberately starts pressing on his sensitivities: about the soldiers he was forced to kill, about the nation that spurned him, how he's truly "wicked" at heart and doesn't deserve to be happy--seconds before flames erupt for the festival. Does that really sound coincidental? I mean lmao. The rain is a painful reminder, but MC transforms that memory into something a little lighter with her bet. He has nothing to lose in her game, all she does is ask for time with him or offers him something if she loses. There's a playfulness there, a restoration of agency and ease that's invaluable to his recovery.

As for Shakespeare's deliberate retraumatization...I can't even begin to explain how damaging that event was. Shakespeare is undermining Jeanne's agency in that he--not unlike the corrupt monarch of Jeanne's era--is twisting Jeanne's beliefs to work against him. He knows full well that Jeanne doesn't feel like he deserves somebody so bright and understanding (we need to remember it's not really a luxury he's had much in life, especially after the war ended). He knows Jeanne has a tendency to impose that strict moral code on himself even more than he does on others. To reaffirm his every worst fear and lurking terror only throws Jeanne into a vicious downspiral. Jeanne doesn't reject MC out of disgust or hate. He rejects her because he literally cannot handle the concept of trying to be happy again, or of burdening her with his constant struggle to move on while he’s in the middle of a bad episode. He knows he won’t be able to stop reliving the past, that every second of his life and breath will be colored by his gruesome memories. He's trying as hard as he can to keep the intrusive thoughts quiet, to move on. But I'm not going to lie to any of you, that is incredibly difficult to do alone.

The next obvious question is, well why can't the other men help him? This isn't to say that they can't--we see how much solace Jeanne finds in Napoleon and Mozart. Even Isaac is gentle with the veteran. But there are limits to how much they can do. Napoleon is struggling with his own wartime trauma, and it's not identical to Jeanne's. Plus there’s a distinct difference in their sensibilities? Napoleon is the type to habitually seek comfort in helping others when he can't help himself, he's not as in tune with answering his own personal feelings and regulating them. (I mean just look at his new ES: he knows what he wants, but it takes a nudge from Isaac for him to go through with it.) He’s very communally reliant in ways Jeanne isn’t; Jeanne is a very private person, and typically prefers one on one from what I can tell.

Mozart is the definition of repression, and if you look at their interactions it's usually Jeanne that's smoothing over Mozart's rough edges. Mozart says as much himself: that he feels like a rotten friend because he knew Jeanne was struggling with a lot of intense trauma, but he didn't know how to unravel it without hurting him in the process. Mozart calls it personal cowardice, but honestly I just feel like they both had too much going on to be able to help each other effectively. (And Jeanne expresses this sentiment too? This idea that he's not angry with Mozart? He knows they're both carrying a lot, he's just touched Mozart cares about him in return.)

Okay, briefly unrelated, but like. Am I the only one that wheezes uncontrollably when Mozart is like "?????? Idk what it is about MC...I don't want her to be scared of me..." in his own main story in the baths. And Jeanne. IS TRYING SO HARD. NOT TO SPILL THE BEANS ABOUT HIM O B V I O U S L Y BEING IN LOVE. THE HILARITY I CAN'T DO THIS. Jeanne was like "yeah....yeah that's rough buddy.......[screams internally, give your boy time Jeanne he's fragile]"

Honestly? That's the thing about Jeanne too--he has incredible self-awareness and hyperarousal-related (I mean the PTSD kind, get your head out of the gutter) awareness to the people around him. He's very, very conscious of the fact that he is surrounded by geniuses when he can't even write his own name. Just because he has the fortitude not to lash out with his insecurities, doesn't mean he never feels stupid or inferior. And it doesn't help when there are people in the mansion who call him--a fucking war veteran from 500 YEARS AGO--nAiVe. He's not naive lmao. He just doesn't know how the world works so many years later, and it's a ridiculously steep learning curve? Leonardo and Comte are nearly 500 years old, but they lived throughout every hour of that time in a linear fashion. It is a big deal to be moved from 1430 to 1890 in the span of a second asynchronously, and then be expected to function without a hitch??? Given the circumstances he adapts well.

That atmosphere--this constant impatience with what he doesn’t understand, his inability to be caught up to speed quickly--is going to hinder his recovery lmao. He feels like a burden most of the time, and agency and freedom are crucial.

Another thing that occurs to me about the mansion's arrangement is that there is a power dynamic, just as any space with people in it has some level of hierarchy (unless you live with miraculously chill people). Jeanne is acutely aware that Comte is the most powerful being in that space, and he is not only hatefully angry at him--but likely afraid too. We have to remember that the biggest betrayal he witnessed in his life was at the hands of a monarch; it was the aristocracy that turned on him and erased the truth. Comte is openly a child that resulted from both that era and that type of lineage, I don't really blame Jeanne for being wary. He intimately knows how willing rich people are to throw normal folks under the bus to suit their ambitions/whims. Comte, while not deliberately threatening, also seems to be painfully aware of this impression he gives off. His "chad persona" as I've mentioned allows him to navigate his life in secret by necessity, but it’s actively damaging to his son. He can't reveal the truth because of Vlad's betrayal, and he's openly unsettled by what it could mean to be honest. Will they wonder about Vlad and find themselves ensnared under his mind control as Charles and Shakespeare are? Will Comte himself be subjected to the mortifying ordeal of being known only to lose them?? That's a risk he isn't willing to take--and that leaves him in a double bind.

What is it that they say, the truth will set you free? This is where MC and Comte come into enormous play when it comes to Jeanne's recovery. One thing to keep in mind is that most of the people in the mansion have their own traumas they're trying to carry, and I feel like a lot of them are unsure how to approach Jeanne. Or if they do, he's very guarded. It takes a lot of consistent effort to get through to him. What does MC do when Jeanne unleashes his harsh worldview on her? She's understandably frightened, but Jeanne isn't malicious (so she chases him around). In fact, he openly avoids and runs away from her--well aware that what he's done is wrong. If anything, he did it on purpose, bringing us right back to Shakespeare's verbal undoing; why does Jeanne attack her in the first place?

LMAO. He attacks her because she essentially says "oh thanks for helping me!" "I am not nice. Watch yourself." "But you seem like a nice guy to me?" "REEEEEE" Does the pattern become a little clearer? When people think kindly of him, his instinct is to shatter that illusion with an impulsive reprehensible act. When people think poorly of him or lash out, what does he do? When that orphan boy starts yelling and screaming, Jeanne is nothing but calm. He explains the situation, and offers the kid a choice, perfectly happy to be the bearer of bad news. This operates on many levels I’m sure, but I have a feeling it has something to do with him being hailed a saint and a war hero only to be tortured and branded a monstrosity (and he probably thinks being a vampire is doubly monstrous). He’s more comfortable being hated because he feels it’s what he deserves in a lot of ways.

Jeanne has a lot of internalized self-hatred because of what he's done, and because of how much harm was inflicted on him outside of his control (he's Catholic and he was tortured, come on this writes itself). If I'm honest, I think that's actually the greater part of why he hates Comte lmao. Comte refuses the very concept of being cruel no matter how much Jeanne lashes out. Sure he lectures him and scolds him, but he never actively limits what's important to him or controls or harms him. Comte fully realizes the tragedy of how Jeanne's life was used by a nation in dire straits, and knows he needs time and acceptance to heal. No matter how dismal or unhappy, Comte doesn't stop--he fully believes Jeanne should have time in his life where he can really live for himself for once. But therein lies the issue, Jeanne doesn't know how to live for himself.

Which brings me to how MC and Comte "heal" Jeanne. I feel like they give him the space he needs to recover, and that's what results in his gentled temperament and happiness. Remember that so much of his main story is MC endlessly chasing after Jeanne. No amounts of his hissing or running or threatening stops her. Even if his refusals are empty of real dislike, they're enough to deter most people. Not MC. She's able to see through to the depths of who he is, and doesn't just use him for her own ends? She actively seeks to teach him (to read and write) to help him settle better in this era, she actively tries to ease his distaste for rain with a well-meaning bet, and she never gives up on him. (Actions mean so much more to him than words in general too, tbh...). Love is more easily defined by work and effort than it is by attraction.

When he has his episode at the festival, sure she's rattled; but that's because she truly believed that he didn't want to be around her anymore. When she notices he really doesn’t want to be followed, she stops like any normal person would. It’s only when she reads his notebook and sees the truth for herself (that he’s given up despite having the same feelings for her) that her determination is rekindled. She doesn't approach him fearfully, doesn't treat him like he's made of glass either. She just wants him as he is--accepts and loves him as he is. Scarred, bloody, exhausted, abrasive, terrified. She doesn't define him by how easy he is to love. That is a huge issue with traumatized people lmao. Because of their maturity, people always just assume they don't need help, or they rely on them to an extent that isn't sustainable. The second they reveal need or that they struggle, people walk away or victim blame them because it’s easier than taking them seriously.

While MC's attempts may be a little more obvious (cherishing his lily field, wearing the hair pin he gave her, careful about his gruesome injury, really listens when he talks about the horrors of his life and accepts that he experienced a level of agony/terror she can never understand, tries to express her feelings no matter his evasion) I think it's also important to consider Comte's large scale effort. I don't say this to undermine MC, I say it because Jeanne's life was defined by a complete lack of security. He left his parents to make their lives easier, he lived in a war that meant life or death any second, and his country's leader branded him a traitor which lead to his endless torture and public execution. Jeanne does not know a life in which safety is the norm. Point blank. He does not understanding going outside and not expecting the worst anymore.

Comte not only understands that level of despair, but treats it with dignity and respect. He fully accepts being hated if it means Jeanne can use that hatred to live on and find a way to heal. And most importantly, when Jeanne begins to move forward with MC and Mozart's help, Comte never once holds it against Jeanne when the truth is revealed. He's not angry, this isn't about reprisal or reparations or revenge. It's just love.

Jeanne doesn't really have a concept of this? His entire life was mostly transactional, defined by strength and efficiency. Nobody gives a damn about your feelings. You either hurl yourself at the problem or die. Nobody is going to help you or carry you or save you. While he may have had a little more support while he was in the military from his fellow soldiers, that support system was ripped away from him during the Inquisition.

One very common sentiment regarding elongated imprisonment and torture is that survival occurs in pairs. It is an undeniable fact that people need others to survive. It is the nature of who we are. Individualism has never proven to be successful, or if it is, its dividends are astronomically minimal when compared to people working together.

What does it mean to be the most reliable, steady person in the room? Usually it just means you don't know how to ask for help when you are no longer capable of maintaining that stance. Napoleon is guilty of it. Leonardo, Comte, and Jeanne all are too. It's part of why MC and Comte's capacity to see what he needs and provide as much as they can is such a big deal. That sort of consistent support (without a constant necessity to beg for help) allows Jeanne to be able to re-integrate into his new reality and find joy. Even if his nightmares and memories never go away, they are now being actively overrun by positive experiences. That's the thing about recovery, really--it tends to be more about drowning out the negative as much as possible and coming to terms with it, than it is about forgetting or never feeling it again. It’s about softening the sharp edges of pain like sea glass.

So is MC magical and randomly got Jeanne to open up? Nah, I don't think so. I think it was a series of persistence and real acceptance of who he is that made him warm up. People really seem to underestimate how deeply affecting understanding is, but that's how damage is undone. Jeanne can't really linger on the idea of his own monstrousness, his unworthiness, a lifetime of misery, when the person in front of him actively listens and cares about him. Makes him laugh and smile and lose himself in warmth for the first time.

If I'm honest, I feel like people also just...underestimate the level of traumatic resurgence that's perpetuated and inflicted by society’s standards in general lmao. This rhetorical structure in which good and bad exist in moral extremes, this idea that people should be able to recover and never experience relapses or periods of sensitivity. The refusal to radically listen to people and their problems, and make active attempts--not matter how small--to mend/ease those hurt feelings. Granted there will always be people in the world who do not want to improve, but I feel like most people want to. It's hopelessness, silence, and stigmatization that remain the true enemies of traumatized/mentally ill people everywhere. And among that population are always war veterans...

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp jean #ikevamp jeanne #ikevamp meta #ikevamp saint germain #ikevamp comte #sorry i have a lot of feelings about this topic kjahsflkjhsjkghfd #but yes!#i think mc being able to help him was more about her sensibility and the mental fortitude/space to be able to care about him as he needed #i don't think it's necessarily that she's SpEcIaL #trauma is a sensitive subject--especially considering he's a war veteran #but i also think it's simple and complex at the same time #simple in the sense that people really do just need consistent support and love to be able to care for themselves again #complex in the sense that support can come in so many permutations and some of them are very delicate and multi-faceted #and thus must be handled with extreme caution in some regards #anywho not that i'm any kind of expert this is just what i understand and see #also in case it wasn't clear i love him and cry every day (look away comte it's my whoring hours)#though i hope this helps??? i went off harder than anticipated lakjhglkj #thank you for the ask!!! <3333 #asks #rambles #not incorrect quotes

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crescentsteel · 4 years ago

Text

Keeping a Secret - Part 4

pairing: Tsukishima x f!manager of Sendai Frogs genre: sexual tension/crack/fluff/slow burn wc: 7.6k

[a/n]

Let me know if you want to be part of the taglist uwu

AO3

Part 3 || Part 5 || masterlist

Tsukishima might not like you, but at least you unspokenly agreed on how to treat the strange tension from last time’s meeting: ignore it.

No one dared mention it. Since he arrived a while ago, no one talked unless needed. It’s not like the air is awkward, it’s just silent, devoid of last time’s weird shenanigan as you continued on with the unfinished assignment from his previous visit.

“I assume you’re done from how you’re spacing out at nothing,” he reprimands.

You flinch and realize that you’ve been staring at the wall behind Tsukishima.

“Oh, uhhh.” You check your laptop to see your progress and surprisingly, you really are done. Your brain must have shut down on it’s own when it registered that you’re finished with your work for the day.

“Yep!” You snicker proudly at him. “Are we going to watch crocodiles doing the nasty now?” you ask him with eager interest.

You really have a way with words that always throws him off-guard, yet instead of scowling at you, he just gives out a resigned sigh. He knows you aren’t trying to irk him. That’s just how you really are.

It’ll be better for his sanity to just tolerate your and leave you be than drive himself to the brink of madness.

“Yeah,” he responds thriftly.

You giddily scurry over at his side of the table and comfortably seat yourself beside him. You hug your knees as he prepares several videos from BBC Earth and Nat Geo Wild that shows and explains crocodile mating behavior. He turns up the volume of his laptop to its loudest so you can both hear the audio clearly.

In the second video, the voice-over explains the kinds of display reptiles make to attract their potential mate. His eyes glance at you briefly. Not that he’s complaining about it, but you’re acting unusually docile today . You’ve been mostly quiet ever since he arrived.

It’s all good until he hears a wheezing noise that sounds all too real and all too weird for it to come from the video.

He looks to you and immediately finds the culprit.

Your lips are parted with your neck extended forward and your chin tilted up a bit while you produce guttural sounds, making it seem like you’re choking.

“What are you doing?”

You face him, still looking like an idiot as you continue making a sound he’s never heard of with the same absurd upper body posture. He looks at you with abhorrence when he starts to realize what you’re doing.

Are you actually trying to imitate a crocodile bellowing for a mate?

You sit up straight and beam at him with pride. “How’s that for a mating call?”

If he were a male crocodile, he’d find another estuary to escape away from that horrible sound you were producing. “You sound like you’re dying,” he says as he remembers how it seemed like you were hoarsely scratching your vocal cords together.

“Wait, wait. Lemme try again,” you announce with determination, which he finds pointless and totally unnecessary. He doesn’t care if you successfully do it. He even prefers you stop trying at all.

Yet, you still pressed on. You resume your earlier actions, looking even more ridiculous as you start to sound and look like a seagull squawking repeatedly.

He should be irritated since you’re wasting time. Instead, he puts a fist over his mouth, attempting to hold back a snort. You don’t seem to notice because your eyes are on the laptop as you keep trying to replicate what you’re seeing on screen.

When you actually start choking, he lets out the laugh that he’s been holding in which makes you look at him. You try to speak but it comes out distorted as you’re still coughing from your mating call attempt.

“You look like an idiot.” He laughs harder when regret surfaces on your eyes while clearing your throat.

He recovers from his outburst of laughter at the same time you manage to soothe your voice back to normal. He’s expecting you to be embarrassed from the stunt you tried to pull, which you appear to be seeing as you’re covering your face with your palms. You don’t seem to be upset though because he can hear your muffled giggles.

You quickly remove your hands and face him. “I was sure I could do it, okay? You didn’t have to laugh that hard!” Despite the pout you show him, your eyes twinkle with levity as you hold his stare.

How the fuck you can you be so weird but still so pretty at the same time?

No wonder you have the rest of them wrapped around your pretty little finger. You just flash them that delightful smile of yours and you completely have them under your spell.

But not him, of course. Definitely not him.

Also, he tries to convince himself, he didn’t think you were pretty at all.

He’s just looking from the perspective of his teammates on why they adore you so much. Nothing more, nothing else.

To him, you’re still the irksome manager he knows you are. This set-up is just temporary. He’ll never forget how you really are - overbearing, cunning, and infuriating. This strangely charming attitude you’re showing him is just because of the temporary ceasefire between the both of you, and this easy, comfortable atmosphere is just born out of necessity. When this project is finished, you’ll be back to the real you. So he shouldn’t be wasting his time reading into whatever’s happening between you two.

“Should we continue watching?” you ask him lightheartedly as you hug your knees again, softly leaning your head against them.

The nerve of you to ask that. You’re the one who disrupted the videos, not him. He should be the one berating you to get back to the project instead of you pleasantly asking him to continue where you left off.

“You’re the one who interrupted the whole thing in the first place,” he spats rather than answering your question, wishing you’d retort with something stupid so he can go back loathing you silently.

Instead, you simper apologetically and mutter a timid, “My bad.”

Then you extend your arm to his laptop and rewind to where the video was before you distracted him with your audacious growling.

During the remainder of the videos, he glances every once in a while to check if you’re going to do something distracting again. Fortunately, (or unfortunately, he can’t tell anymore which is worse) you stay well-behaved and entirely focused on the documentary with your arms wrapped around your tucked legs tucked and your chin resting to your knee.

When the documentaries end, he pulls up the video he took with your phone from your crocodile farm trip. Compared to the produced output you’d just gone through, the amateur video he captured at the farm is evidently not as exciting to watch. The quality is not that great because his hand had been shaky while filming it. He remembered not looking at the screen of your phone while filming it because he had been looking at you.

Rather than noticing that aspect of the video, you comment about the audio. “I can’t hear anything from the breeding pen. I only hear my voice and Sara’s.”

He’s about to reason out that you’re talking non-stop but he immediately realizes that it’s not necessarily a bad thing because you were asking Sara questions related to the project at that time.

“I want to hear them growling,” you declare.

“I’m not sure they even were. This is an artificial environment for crocodiles. Also, we’re a bit far from them,” he explains.

You face scrunches up with disapproval. “Why didn’t you just zoom the camera in?”

His jaw drops from how appallingly dim-witted your question is. He’d think you were kidding but you look genuinely upset because you can’t hear the sounds you heard from the videos earlier.

First of all, just like he said, they might not even be making sounds at all. Secondly, your phone, despite being a good model, wouldn’t be able to miraculously capture sounds even if he zoomed it outrageously close to the reptiles. Lastly and most importantly, are you actually that dumb?

He doesn’t even know how to condense all his thoughts properly and convey how revolted he is from the amount of brainlessness you can put in one simple question that’s less than ten words.

Your eyes go wide when it finally hits you too.

“Oh God,” you mutter weakly as you put two palms to cover the lower half of your face.

You two share the same expression of disgust as you realize how stupid you sounded while you hold his gaze.

You press your lips together in a thin line then bust your gut out with an uproar laugh that fills your room. You tug the sleeve of his shirt as you look at him with glossy eyes.

“I’m a dunce,” you admit with trails of laughter still seeping from your voice.

“Glad to know I’m not the only one who thinks so,” he says with half-hearted insult as he’s still figuring out if he did something or is it your own stupidity that’s causing your outburst.

You bite your trembling lips in an attempt to fend off another laugh, but fails to do so when you clutch his arm tighter and another round of jovial laugh escapes from your mouth.

You try to form a phrase but it’s drowned out by your own cackles. Still, he catches on with what words you manage to utter.

You are laughing at yourself.

He always thought you liked making fun of others because you’re always simpering every time someone’s at your mercy -- those boys who relentlessly try to hit on you; any member of the team who gets flustered when you praise them; and him, especially him, who seems to be your personal favorite person to pick on.

Yet, he’s never seen you this elated before, with your face scrunched up as you go hysterical from your own silliness.

He can’t help but think that maybe he misunderstood you a little bit. You’re not actually a pompous bitch. You’re just a crackhead who finds joy in the littlest, most foolish things.

“I swear to God, Tsukishima. Our university is in ruin for making me a goddamn scholar.” You let go of his arm and sniffle while wiping your tears of joy.

When you look up to him, your face is glowing. Your cheeks are flushed, your eyes are gleaming at him effervescently, and your smile is not as annoying as it used to be.

Objectively speaking, it’s similar to your usual ones, except it’s also totally different. He can’t really fully grasp why but there’s something about it that distinguishes it from all the others he’s seen from you.

He must have been peering at you more than necessary because your smile dissolves gradually while your mirthful expression turns into a puzzled one.

You’ve been trying to ignore the thought, but Tsukishima is definitely acting weird today; weird because he’s not as mean as he usually is.

Well, duh. You do have some sort of agreement for him to tone it down. Still, you didn’t expect he’d do it this well. Even when he was laughing at you earlier, it wasn’t as demeaning as it should have been.

And to make you even more puzzled, right now, he’s just staring blankly at you.

Generally, Tsukishima’s empty glares at you are not really empty. They contain inhibited disdain which he has not failed to show you over the years you’ve been their manager. Even when he’s actually trying not to let it show, you still easily see through him.

But at this moment, you have no idea what’s going on in his head. His eyes are studying you quietly and you return his stare, trying to figure out what he could possibly be thinking.

You’re about to ask him what’s wrong but as soon as you open your mouth, a familiar glint surfaces on his face as his gaze drops on your lips.

If the latter parts of the previous meeting were awkward, this one goes beyond awkward.

There is an abrupt drop of weight that looms across the whole room, a weight so heavy that you find it difficult to breathe. The room is spacious enough for two, but you feel like it’s too cramped up all of a sudden.

It’s an all too familiar feeling that you did not anticipate would ever come back. In fact, it should not be back at all.

It is as exciting as it is terrifying when you realize: you want to kiss him.

You previously justified your actions as something sort of a ‘one time madness’ and. until now, you were sure it was just that. It was a whim brought by his sudden closeness fueled by the atmosphere of the club at the time.

You were wrong.

Even at this dull, academic setting with him barely even touching you, you itch to feel him close. You want to relive the feeling of his body pressed against yours and his lips latched fervidly onto yours.

Damn it. He should stop staring at you like he wants the same thing. It’s tempting you even more to give in to the urge even though you know you’ll regret it later.

But no, you really can’t. Once was enough. Twice will be a different story.

You had assured him and yourself that it wouldn’t happen again. If you cross that line now, you’re going to have to admit the irrevocable fact that you’re attracted to him.

You let out a shaky breath as you avert your gaze from his.

You’re about to replay the video when you hear a sudden thud on the floor. You look back at him with worry only to see his hand slammed against the floor as he swiftly lunges forward to close the gap between you and him.

His free hand goes to your chin and tilts it up as he crashes his lips on yours.

It’s just as you remember - calm yet impassioned, successfully sweeping away any incertitude you had about kissing him. Your mind is only filled with how good he feels as he impatiently drags his hand to your waist and tugs you closer.

You wrap an arm around his neck to completely eliminate whatever space is left between your bodies. You grasp the back of his head as you return his kiss with the same ardor, your mouths naturally cascading against one another with a rhythm you two can perfectly understand and follow without any words needed.

When he sneaks his tongue in, you begin to forget what he is to you outside the confines of this room as you helplessly moan into his mouth.

You can tell he’s not doing so well either with how tight he’s grasping the small of your back as the intensity of the kiss grows with each ticking second.

“Tsukishima,” you puff heavily as you withdraw away from him with half-lidded eyes, the feel of his lips still lingering on yours.

You hope that the soft call of his name will be the voice of reason for him to stop kissing you. He needs to stop for you’re totally powerless to do it yourself. He needs to stop before it escalates into something else, something more.

Thankfully, he does stop.

He takes a deep breath as his eyes travel from your lips up to your eyes, meeting your gaze to study the entirety of your features.

He thought you were going to ask him to stop, hence the conflicted tone of your voice when you said his name. But the look on your face tells him otherwise.

You like this as much as he does. He didn’t want to admit it last time, but fucking hell. You really do make a complete mess of his rational thinking with how good you taste, how your determined eyes mellow down within his embrace, and how you yield right on the first touch of his lips.

He knows he should stop. It’s the perfect chance to do so. It shouldn’t matter how soft and pliant you are when pressed against him. It shouldn’t matter that you look like you want him to continue wherever this leads to.

But it does. He doesn’t want to stop, and he knows neither do you.

He grits his teeth in annoyance as he hisses at you, “Shut up.”

Just like he did a while ago, he easily covers the tiny distance between your lips. He gets a little more greedy this time and slides his hand underneath your shirt, experimenting with what he can do to earn him another whimper from you. He’d like to revel on the sound of your meekness once again.

It didn’t really take much. At the first contact of his palm on the bare skin of your waist, you instantly give him what he wants.

Your soft moan fills his ears that he doesn’t hear the sudden clack of the door.

“Y/n, did you do our - oh!”

You violently tug his head past the curve of your shoulder, making him take out his hand from your shirt and ram it against the floor to support himself.

“Couldn’t you knock?” you ask breathlessly to whoever’s on the door.

He tries to free himself from you but judging from how firm your grip is on his head, it doesn’t look like you want him to move from his current position. It doesn’t help that you’re almost choking him from how hard you’re pressing his neck against your collar bone.

“I can’t breathe!” he whispers infuriatingly, but you don’t answer. You only clutch on his hair tighter.

“My bad, dude. I didn’t know you got yourself a boyfriend,” your friend says defensively.

Out of all the possible times she could choose to come over, it had to be when you and Tsukishima were making out. You’re a tiny bit grateful for being stopped when neither of you wanted to, but more embarrassed that it was because your friend walked in on the scene.

“Can you come back later?” you ask almost nervously, concerned that she might recognize that it’s Tsukishima leaning against you. She knows him because they used to have classes together last semester.

Your friend just shrugs it off and is about to close the door when her eyes catch Tsukishima’s jacket. Her eyes widen in shock when she sees the logo of the Sendai Frogs.

“Holy shit! Are you dating one of your players?” She looks back at you incredulously.

“Get out!” you yell out from agitation.

She flinches from the sudden raise of your voice but is quick to understand that you need the privacy right now. “Okay, okay. I got it,” she mutters apologetically and whispers, “Sorry,” before she finally shuts the door.

You let out a sigh of relief when she leaves without figuring out that it was Tsukishima. As for him, he tears your hand away and faces you with fury seeping from his orbs.

“Were you trying to kill me?!”

You dismiss his anger and regard him impassively. “Then would you have preferred your face being seen?”

“So what? It’s not like she knows me,” he leans forward towards you a bit to emphasize his point with the same angry tone.

With his face too close for comfort, you suddenly become aware of the fact that you’re still trapped between the arms planted on both sides of you.

“Um, can you back off for a bit?” You turn away tensely, worried that you might want an encore of what your friend interrupted if you continue staring at him from this distance.

“Huh?” He sounds like he has no idea what you’re talking about so you place both hands on his chest to softly push him away.

He must have realized it then because he lifts himself off of you and sits back to upright.

You try to settle down but to no avail. Your heart is still beating abnormally, despite being now rid of your nosy friend and his dangerous proximity. The deafening silence rings in your ears and the air feels heavy again, your mind drifting dangerously back to the earlier events.

“This is your fault,” Tsukishima mumbles with a frown.

You gasp at his audacity. “Excuse me? You’re the one who kissed me!”

“Because you ...” he trails off before he could say what was going on in his head: because you looked so damn fascinating that he caved to his want for a repeat of that night. So it really is your fault. If you hadn’t kissed him back then, he wouldn’t have found out how exquisite it feels to have you succumb to him. Then, he wouldn’t have been tempted to kiss you at all.

Shit. He sounds stupid, justifying his own reckless behavior.

He looks down at your waist which he was just touching. If your friend hadn’t barged in, how far will you two have gone?

He shudders at the thought. No. There was absolutely no fucking way you two would’ve done that. He won’t be able to stomach it if that happens. You might have been tolerable today, but that doesn’t mean he can stand the idea of going beyond making out with you.

Did he just admit to himself that he doesn’t mind kissing you?

“Because I what?” you ask him with an addled look.

“Nothing,” he answers as he starts fixing his stuff.

“Hey, what’re you doing? We still need to do a comparison write-up for the videos,” you say, watching him pack up.

“Let’s just pick up where we left off when we meet again.” He can’t be around you any longer today. You’re causing too much havoc to his usually sensible mindspace.

“Aren’t we going to talk about what just happened?”

Not bothering to heed your question, he continues what he’s doing. After he puts the only remaining binder he has out back in his bag, he faces you.

“No,” is his answer before he slings his bag over his shoulder and leaves your room.

Damn that Tsukishima.

As if you don’t have enough on your plate already, he adds another massive one on the pile. You wish you can just disregard it, push it at the back of your head like you did the first time. But you can’t.

You were supposed to study the Lion’s new line, but you just end up zoning out every five minutes as the scene replays in your head. You even transferred to the lobby even though you hated working there just for a change of pace.

It turned out useless as people you know kept on stopping by for small chats. You couldn’t focus on the game footages which needs your full concentration to analyze.

So there you are, restless and distraught, as you enter the gym with no printed output because you hadn’t accomplished anything at all.

Not that they need it today but you just generally like to have them ready in advance. You know your team. Almost everyone has their day jobs or are students like you. You don’t want to spring a hell load of reading material on them days away from the game.

On top of that, you’re lagging behind the schedule you set for your project with the Tsukishima. No thanks to him for walking out the past two meetings.

“Do you have the profile of the Lions ready?” Coach Mira asks first thing when you get to her side.

Great. Just great. You were hoping no one brings it up, but of course Coach has to. You did tell her you’d have it prepared by today.

“Sorry, Coach. I’ll have them ready by next training,” you quickly compromise for your setback.

She swiftly turns to you with concern. “Are you sick?”

“Oh, no. I’m totally fine, Coach. Just had something to do last night,” you lie despite the guilt in your gut. The last time you were late with the team reports was when you became extremely sick. This time it’s because of some blonde guy that’s somewhere across the gym.

She breathes a relieved sigh. “Thank God. I don’t really mind them being not as early as usual. I just don’t want our trusted manager getting sick.”

Her small compliment makes you feel a bit better. “Thanks, Coach.” You give her a faint smile.

“Alright, can you toss to the spikers?”

You nod and quickly turn around, only to see the cause of your delayed work blocking your path. Typically, you’d say something but you’re too bothered with what happened that you just move sideways to avoid him. However, he moves in the same direction you do. So you go the opposite way again, only for him to follow.

At this point, you couldn’t suppress the dry laugh that comes from how spectacularly ironic the scene is.

You look up to him. “Tsukishima,” you call out as you give him that too sweet of a grin he hates so much. “I’d appreciate it if you use those blocking skills on the court instead of me, hmm?”

This is the you Tsukishima is very much aware of - detestable to the core. Yet, on top of his annoyance is relief. It’s reassuring to see that you’re still very much the manager he knows you are, not the somehow tolerable person he made out with last time.

So instead of answering, he does the usual and turns deaf ears at you. While you’re sneering at him, he moves further to the side and successfully gets past you.

He’d tell you about his fix for the current dilemma you two are having, but with Coach within earshot, he’d rather not. He doesn’t want anyone, especially the team, knowing that you’re spending some time alone with him, let alone getting physical with him. He’ll never hear the end of it from them, so he’ll just text you later.

You can’t believe Tsukishima actually suggested doing the project at their home. You don’t think he’s the kind of person who invites classmates to their house just because of school work. It is hard to imagine him introducing people to whoever he’s living with, let alone you.

Maybe they’re gone for the day. That’s why he invited you over.

You ring the doorbell of the address he gave you. Quite soon enough, another tall blonde person opens the door. He must be another Tsukishima - a nice Tsukishima with a pleasant face that looks nothing like the permanent nonchalance plastered on the face of your middle blocker.

“Yes?” the pleasant Tsukishima asks.

You greet him with a warm smile. When you ask for the other Tsukishima you’re going to work with, his face noticeably lights up. “You’re looking for Kei?” he asks softly but with audible excitement.

“Um, yeah. He asked me to come.” You’re very curious as to why he looks so pleased, but it’d be rude to ask him upfront when you just met him.

Before the guy in front of you can even answer, you already hear the voice of the one you’re looking for.

“Let her in, Nii-chan.”

Nii-chan? Oh my God. That’s the cutest thing ever! You didn’t think Tsukki’s the kind of guy to address his older sibling like that.

“I’m Akiteru by the way,” the older Tsukishima introduces himself as he opens the door for you.

“Y/n. here,” you respond delightfully then give him a gracious bow before entering.

As you remove your shoes upon stepping inside, you already see Tsukki seated in the living room with his stuff set up. You don’t know if he’s started working on the project but he’s already focused on his laptop.

You would've made yourself feel at home, but this is not solely his place. You don’t want to be impolite.

“You can go join him, Y/n. I’ll go to my room now,” Akiteru kindly tells you and turns around.

“Wait,” you blurt out.

He faces your way again. “Yeah?”

“Can I call you Aki-san? I don’t want to confuse you when I say ‘Tsukishima.’”

He gently holds both your hands and pulls them up as he clasps them together with his.

“You can call me Aki-nii-chan if you want,” he says with a hopeful look on his face. You can tell he’s got the completely wrong idea about you and Tsukishima, which confirms your earlier assumption.

Yet instead of being uncomfortable, you find yourself amused. Tsukishima must have never brought a girl home before, thus the excitement and false assumption from Akiteru.

“I think I like Aki-san better,” you respond respectfully, hoping that you don’t have to spell it out for him.

“Stop it. She’s just a classmate,” you hear Tsukishima say.

Akiteru lets go of your hand and laughs apologetically. “Sorry about that. I’ll leave you two alone now.” He smiles briefly at you and heads upstairs.

You walk towards Tsukishima and sit beside him. “What were you thinking inviting me over?” you instantly ask. You know he must already be aware of the possibility that his relatives would very likely assume things, which was just proven true by Akiteru.

“As much I despise the idea of having you here, this is better than being in your place,” he says with his attention still on his laptop.

“How so?” You glance at his laptop and see that he’s working on a different subject than the one you have together. When notices it, he closes the tabs and faces you.

“We’re not completely alone here. We won’t get unwelcome urges.”

Oh dear Lord. So that’s what this is about. He thinks that being alone with you is the cause of it.

“I hate to remind you this, Tsukishima, but the first time we kissed was in the middle of a club packed with people. It’s not the place that’s the issue,” you emphasize the last sentence.

Before you went there, you decided to just accept the fact that you and Tsukishima have this uncanny attraction towards each other. The last meeting’s events were proof of that. Instead of getting all worked up trying to deny it or disregard it as something else, you just acknowledge it for what it really is.

“Then what is?” Unlike you, he seems to entirely shut out the disturbing conclusion you came up with. That’s why he decided to meet here instead of your place despite whatever his family might think.

Too bad for him though, you’re about to break the news to him.

“We’re attracted to each other,” you declare without any reluctance.

“No,” he quickly rejects the notion. “I don’t care what you feel about me, but I am not in any way attracted to you,” he says every word with solid conviction that you’re not sure if it’s meant to convince you or himself.

“Right. Why did you kiss me last time then?” you counter.

“Whatever the reason is, that doesn’t mean I’m attracted to you. I tolerate you when we’re not in the gym. That’s the extent of what I feel for you.”

You sigh as you rub your face with your palms. “Why do you have to be such a fucking tsundere, Tsukki? I’m doing this for the both of us.”

His face contorts to one that’s filled with utter displeasure. “How the hell is this beneficial for us?”

“Hear me out and think about it before you say ‘no’ again,” you begin. “I think we should just give in to this weird thing going on between us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You’re starting to get annoyed at this point. His denial of the situation is making him stupid. Does he think this is easy for you? You don’t want this either. But what can you do? The thick, unmistakable attraction is there.

For fuck’s sake, do you really have to spoonfeed it to him?

“Tsukishima Kei,” you let out one heavy puff before you say it. “You’re allowed to kiss me when it’s just the two of us,” you announce.

You’ve never felt more offended than when he looks utterly disgusted at your proposal.

“Your head’s way too big from all the moronic ideas you're stuffing in it. Just because I initiated it last time doesn’t mean I want to do it again,” he utters each word with unrepressed contempt that makes you feel humiliated for suggesting such a thing.

You’re not a sensitive person. You can easily laugh off whatever anyone throws your way. Especially with Tsukishima since you know much he dislikes you. But that one - that one hurt.

You shake your head and start taking out your stuff. “You’re right. It was a moronic idea. So forget I even suggested it,” you say while setting up your laptop on the table.

You can’t stand the repugnant look on his face so you keep your eyes in front of you even if your laptop is still booting up.

“Let’s just do what we should be doing. Sorry, I wasted our time with my stupidity.” You don’t want to, but now you’re starting to really feel sorry for yourself.

It shouldn’t be new or surprising to you. This is Tsukishima. His personality is terrible as hell. Yet, you wouldn’t mind a few kisses from him every now and then. You bared yourself just now by admitting that.

Tsukishima must be so pleased you finally shut up because you don’t hear anything from him. You’re thankful for it because you don’t want to talk either.

Instead of dwelling on self-loathing, you distract yourself by giving your all to the project at hand. You’re already behind schedule so all the more reason to be efficient.

No one speaks while you completely lose yourself on your tasks for the day. You don't know how long you’ve been going at it but before you even know it, you’re almost done with your share of work for the day.

You just need Tsukishima’s output to finish yours.

With your head occupied with the amount of work you need to get done, you easily got over the tiny pang you felt earlier. You turn to Tsukishima and ask him for his write up.

He frowns at your request. “You’re done already?”

You nod. “Just need your thingy then I can go home.”

He checks your laptop to see for himself and scowls when he confirms that you really are almost done.

“Give me 30 minutes,” he says as he begins rushing his own work.

“Don’t rush it, Tsukishima. I can do other stuff while I wait for you. Also, if you don’t mind. Do you have coffee?” You can feel the exhaustion begin to set in your body. For the past four nights, you’ve been getting three to fours of sleep only.

As the only manager of the Frogs, you constantly have to move around the gym to help them out. But unlike the players, your real work is outside the gym - sorting paperwork, gathering information about other teams, coordinating practice matches, and so on. On top of that, you have your academic subjects to deal with.

You’re honestly used to it. But being a graduating student this semester, things are tougher for you. Not to mention the shit with Tsukishima, which has been bothering you for the past few nights.

Well, at least that one’s been dealt with already.

You must have spaced out because you did not notice Tsukishima leave, and are surprised when he’s suddenly beside you with a cup of coffee already at hand.

“Did you put sugar?” You might have sounded a bit demanding, but you’re too tired to be polite.

“No. Did you want some?” he asks back.

You get the mug and take that first sip of coffee that wakes up your almost dead body. “No, this is perfect,” you comment with a weary smile as you replace the current doc file open with the draft of the Lions’ profile you’ve been working on.

Tsukishima can’t help but look at you once in a while even though he needs to finish already so you can finalize yours as well.

You’re completely immersed in what you’re doing, taking the cup of coffee to your mouth every now and then without even taking your eyes off your screen.

He thought you’re getting restless but the quickening clack of your keyboard is proving otherwise. In fact, it’s becoming distracting. He’s about to put his headphones on so he can concentrate on his own task when he hears the abrupt slowing down of your typing. What’s alarming is he starts hearing you take excruciatingly deep breaths that wavers when you let them out.

One look at you and he knows that you’re not okay. You’re blinking way too fast and the corners of your mouth are almost drooping. Those and your uneven breathing is enough to cause him to worry.

He grabs your shoulder and forces you to look at him. “Oy, what’s wrong with you?”

You look at him with no clue as to what he’s talking about. “Hmm?”

The lack of life in your orbs is very concerning. It’s nothing compared to how you looked like when you were dead beat on the way home from the crocodile farm.

“Are you having hard time breathing?”

“Oh, that,” you let out a laugh that seems to contain the last strand of energy you have. “I’m just palpitating. Sorry if it’s distracting. You should go put your headphones on,” you say with a dead tone as you start picking up the pace again on what you’re doing.

Just palpitating? Jesus Christ.

He quickly takes away your coffee and slides it to his side of the table. It immediately catches your attention, your eyes absent-mindedly following the cup. “Hey, that’s my coffee. I need that,” you weakly complain.

“You need to rest,” he contradicts you.

“I don’t need rest. I need to finish this and for me to finish this, I need,” you involuntarily inhale sharply and release it heavily before you complete your sentence, “that coffee.”

He checks your laptop and finds a comprehensive report on the updated line up of the Hiashi Automotive Lions. For someone who looks like she’s about to faint, it’s consistent with the other reports you’ve given the team previously - organized and well done.

“You’re almost done here. Go take a nap.”

“Why would I take a nap if I’m almost done?” Despite the exhaustion evident in your whole being, you’re still determined to continue working.

“You look like you’re about to pass out and I don’t want to take care of you when you do. So take a fucking nap on the couch,” he snaps. He didn’t mean to sound that harsh but it’s really getting on his nerves how you’re almost killing yourself with overworking.

You stare at him vacantly for a short while but do what he said. You drag yourself towards the couch and lazily lie yourself on it.

You cross your arms and rest them on the cushioned surface. Then, you snuggle your head on top of your arms as you wiggle your legs to a comfortable position.

“You can use the pillows” he informs you.

“I’m fine,” you mutter with your eyes already shut.

As much as he wants to get things done as fast as he can, your uneven heaving is a cause of concern. He keeps glancing behind him to check if you’re okay.

If he knew you’d be like this, he wouldn’t have given you the damn coffee.

He’s only able to start focusing on the project when your breathing becomes steady. Still, it took him more than 30 minutes to finish. He looks over to where you are again and calls out your name. However, you don’t even move an inch.

He walks towards the couch and sits at the unoccupied space by your waist. From this distance, he can see that your features are a bit more relaxed now even with just less than an hour of sleep.

He’s certain that you’ve been overworking yourself. It’s only because of your stubbornness that you were able to pull off the things you accomplished tonight.

He’d let you rest a bit more longer but it’s going to get too late for you to go home on your own if he does. So he places a hand on your arms and gently shakes it.

“Mmmmm,” you hum on the arm you’re leaning at before slowly opening your eyes. With heavy lids, you plant your hand on the cushion and forcefully prop yourself up. Yet when you manage to sit up, you rest your head on your shoulder and close your eyes again.

“2 minutes,” you mumble sleepily.

He watches you fight the drowsiness that’s completely settled in. Instead of complaining when you still haven’t snapped out of it, he moves to sit beside you. He puts a gentle hand on the side of your head and softly tugs you to lean on his shoulder.

The moment your temple touches his shoulder, you bolt right up. His unexpected action has sucked the sleepiness out of you for a moment as you begin to put your guard up.

“I’m up. I’m up,” you announce in an alert manner as you scoot away from him. You frantically rub your eyes to get them to open.

So he isn’t imagining it: what he said a while ago got to you. Else, you wouldn’t have moved away like you’re allergic to his touch. You had been unusually quiet after he lashed out at you, but can you blame him for doing so? You’re basically saying that it’s okay to make out when it’s just you two. It’s fucking ridiculous. You should be thinking about how to avoid the situation from happening again, not succumb to it.

So why does he feel like a dick for calling you a moron? And why is he upset now that you’re actually doing what he wants you to do? Also, how the fuck are you so charming even when you’re half asleep before him?

“Are you done with yer stuff?” you slur as you crack your neck side to side.

“Yeah. But you should go home already.”

You blink several times as you check the wall clock across the room for the time. “Okay. Just e-mail it to me so I can do it before our next meeting.”

“No. Focus on your other shit then continue it when we meet next time,” he sternly says.

“We’re already behind schedule, Tsukishima. Just send it to me,” you insist despite how faint your voice is.

“I said no.” He doesn’t dislike you enough to make you overwork yourself to death.

You close your eyes again and shake your head in surrender. “Fine. I’m too tired to argue further.”

Just when you’re about to stand up, he grabs your arm to stop you. Your eyes open up as you peer at him with confusion.

“I didn’t mean what I said earlier,” he utters with his best attempt to sound unbothered.

Your brows crumple up from his statement that came out of nowhere. He just hopes that your fatigued self figures out what he’s referring to because he doesn’t want to elaborate on it.

Sure enough, a palpable glint of understanding shows in your face when your mouth opens to form a silent “ah.”

“That, huh?” You respond just as vaguely as he had been. “Don’t worry about it,” you come up with a thrifty smile as you return your gaze to him.

“You were right anyways. It is a moronic idea. I just thought that maybe if we just let it ride out, it’ll pass. But meh. I just misread it and thought you enjoyed it as much as I do,” you explain in a nonchalant manner despite the confession that came along with it in the end.

Then, you giggle disorientedly. “You can rest easy now, Tsukishima. These disgusting lips of mine won’t come anywhere near you again, mkay?”

He should be relieved, rejoicing even, that he’s pushed you away enough to keep your distance from him.

Yet what you said is gnawing at him for he didn’t say that. He never said your lips are disgusting.

Admittedly, he regrets kissing you on both occasions that it happened, but he’s never thought of it as disgusting.

Infuriating, yes, but not disgusting.

“I’ll go fix my stuff now,” you say.

“They’re not disgusting,” he utters before you get off the couch.

You look at him with vacant eyes that have begun to droop heavily again as a yawn comes out of you. You cover your mouth with your hands then lazily drop them to your lap afterwards.

You open your eyes and try to focus your sight again.

“Sorry, I conked out for like three seconds. Did you say something?”

On a regular day, he’d think that you’re messing with him so he’ll repeat what he said. But the exhaustion still evident on your face convinces him that you really didn’t hear what he said.

“Yeah,” he responds flatly before he leans closer to your face. He tilts his head a bit to the side and gently captures the warm softness of your lips.

The kiss lacks the heated intensity the previous two had. It is just one tender nip where he lingers just a tad bit longer to savor the taste of coffee mixed with your own.

He slowly withdraws from you but remains only an inch away that he still feels your breath mingling with his.

“Your lips aren’t disgusting,” he repeats for you to hear this time.

Part 3 || Part 5 || masterlist

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ktheist · 4 years ago

Text

05 — show me yours & i’ll show you mine | m

➙ muses. seokjin x college student / gamer!reader ft. best friend! taehyung

➙ genre. best friend’s brother au. university au. working au. fwb au.

➙ word. 1.8k

➙ warnings. mild exhibitionism

➙ index. 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | finale | side story 1 |

➙ synopsis.

“i missed you.”

“i know.”

you steal one last glance at seokjin, the smallest of smirk playing on his lips but before it spreads across his face, he’s already burying it in the crook of your neck, biting and suckling on that one spot that gets you clenching your legs together only to be reminded of the man buried to the hilt in between your thighs.

“hey, tae,” you sing the first word, barely managing to get your best friend’s name out without your voice cracking as seokjin starts to move again, tampering with your sanity.

“hey, where you at?” taehyung baritone rings in your left ear where your phone is pressed and seokjin’s exhaled breath drums in the other.

“uh, in class?” your brain shortcircuits - you can barely offer anything tangible than a two worded reply but that probably has something to do with the hand that clasps over your mouth as you feel the moan about to spill off your lips.

“still? i thought you have class till noon and the rest of the day off on thursdays?” the confusion in taehyung’s voice laces around his words - you can almost hear him scratching his head in confusion whilst his brother’s hands rests on the dip of your waist, pulling out and letting a pause lull in between you, that damned smirk gone from seokjin’s face, replaced with a hazed look that couldn’t care less about the little brother who’s on the phone with the woman he’s about to-

“fu-” you whimper against the mouth that crashes against yours, swallowing your moan.

but the kiss was short-lived.

you push away seokjin’s face to force out an awkward laugh, “yeah, so i forgot i had a replacement class.”

“shit, you just knew?” taehyung sounded like he didn’t mind having a whole conversation with you while you were in your fake class.

“i mean,” you breathe out softly when seokjin’s thumb grazes your erected nub, “i think the professor mentioned it some time ago? i don’t know. didn’t care.”

“touche.” the man on the other end replies, you can almost hear him nodding.

“i gotta go, okay?” and with that, you toss your phone to the side.

in hindsight, you should’ve checked if you properly ended the call.

but how can you have a sliver of concern for something else when you’re too rapt in grasping onto the bed sheets as stars dot behind your eyelids. pleasure courses through your veins. back arching, toe curling, heart leaping within your caged chest as moan after moan pours out of your mouth as seokjin takes you higher than any man you’ve had before.

seokjin’s body falls over you a moment later, his strong arms propped on either sides of your head on the bed as he moans. your arms wrap around his body, face buried in the crook of his neck as you tighten yourself around him, goosebumps rising on your skin when his moan turns to a growl as you feel him twitch inside you.

it’s a moment later, once your breathing calms down, do you catch the faint scent of seokjin’s cologne amidst the smell of sweat and sex in the air as seokjin lifts your head with his hand, pushes the pillow away and places your head on his bicep as his free hand wraps around your body. because of your position, you can clearly hear the sound of his heart beating in his chest.

he should be getting off his high but why is his heart racing like crazy?

you snuggle into him, forehead resting against his chest as your cheeks remain hot - you think you’re gonna catch a fever.

the weeks pass by in a breeze with taehyung adamantly advocating for you, hoseok, jimin and him to hang out at jeongguk’s place. rather than a place, it’s a studio for one so having five grown adults in the same room isn’t exactly the brightest idea.

neither you nor taehyung brought up what happened three weeks ago. whether he heard you have sex with his brother - you rather not find out. but to say that everything went back to normal would be a pathetic lie.

every time silence lapses over you, there’s a stale air of awkwardness that comes with it. as if you have to sift through your brain for a topic or else you’ll die from suffocation because having a hole open up underneath you and swallow you into oblivion is too good of a fantasy.

but little do you know, that’s only the tip of the iceberg.

“jinnie, you got so much better at cooking!” a high pitched squeal bursts your eardrums as you watch yoo mina stand too close to your man in her delivery of compliments.

“psssh, this is nothing, wait till you taste my special garlic butter potatoes,” seokjin tries to play it cool but the blush on his cheeks is too apparent even to a blind person.

not to mention, she’s using the nickname you gave him. well, his parents started calling him jinnie first and since you’ve been around for a long time, you end up calling him that too but that’s besides the point.

the point is, you’ve found an annoying little thorn stuck inside your flesh and you want her out.

christmas break rolled around and for the first time, the four of you manage to catch a flight back to your hometown at the same time. usually, seokjin and namjoon would have a day off and spend christmas together in seoul since a day is too short of time to be flying back and forth while you and taehyung go back home.

though this year, your parents decide to make an impromptu visit to your grandparents’ two days before you landed and leave you in the kim’s care like a charity basket on someone’s doorstep on christmas eve.

“yo,” taehyung’s baritone drums in your ears all too suddenly, making you flinch, “can you pass me the-”

as if on cue, an earth shattering crack bounces off the walls for the longest moment as silence settles in the room and nothing except the sound of the tv host energetically announcing something about welcoming guests to the show, fills the air.

“...angel,” taehyung ends his words, blinking at the pieces of porcelain angel scattered across the floor near your feet.

“oh shit, sorry,” you say to no one in particular, heart racing as you drop to your knees, attempting to gather the broken pieces in hopes of- “can you ask mrs. kim if you have hot glue?”

“___, don’t touch the glass with your hands-” you can barely make out taehyung’s instructions even though he’s standing on the ladder right next to you.

“maybe i can piece it b- ah,” you hiss, retracting your hand and holding it against your chest as you watch the spot where it stings starts to seep out bleed.

“let me see that,” a large hand slips under yours gently, as if you’d break under the slightest pressure.

the familiar scent of ocean and fresh air hits your nose as a pair of troubled eyebrows bind together, eyes focused on your bleeding finger, “we need to disinfect it,” seokjin turns to the dark haired girl and middle aged woman standing a few feet away, probably giving you space to breathe and recover from your shock, “sorry mom. mina. can you watch the stove for a bit? and - is the first aid kit still under the sink in the bathroom?”

the pain hasn’t registered, but it’ll be a bitch once it does.

mrs. kim smiles that warm, gentle smile that seokjin often wears. like mother like son, “yes, dear, it’s still there. we hadn’t moved it since you left because no one was getting hurt some of them might’ve expired...”

“come on,” seokjin pushes himself up first but he stops mid action as your anguished voice slips out of your mouth, “ow ow ow, jinnie, it hurts so much, i can’t even stand up.”

“wait, let me-” taehyung starts before his voice gets drowned out by his mother’s order to- “oh tae, since you’re not doing anything, go get the gloves and broom from the storage room and clean this up.”

seokjin shakes his head, an amused smile on his lips as his hands slip under your armpits and hoists you up to your feet like he would a child.

“welp, there goes my chance of being carried like a princess,” you sigh, lips puckering into a pout but you don’t expect him to agree to it so casually-

“okay.”

with a shrug and an all too willing smile, one arm wraps around your shoulder as he bends down to hook his other arm under your knees - only to have you grasp a handful of his sleeve in a desperate attempt to stop him from dipping any lower. like a lesser than smooth criminal scared of getting caught.

“i’d reach up and pluck the stars for you if you asked me to, what makes you think i won’t carry you in my arms if that’s what you want me to do?” his face is dangerously close to you as he whispers before standing back up again.

“what if i asked you to stop talking to someone?” cheeks hot, you murmur to yourself, glancing at mina’s frowning face as you and seokjin walk pass the kitchen counter, him with his face too close and you with your overjoyed heartbeat.

“just kidding!” you grin at the man before skipping a few steps ahead.

“no, please! i don’t wanna die!” you lament, leaning your body over the bathtub and away from the man that’s holding the gauze pad soaked in alcohol over the cut.

instead of sighing, clicking his tongue and calling you dramatic like his brother would, seokjin chuckles, “you know, we haven’t had a conversation since forever. what’s your favorite thing about christmas?”

“you’re just asking to distract me and when i’m distracted, you’ll pour the alcohol over the cut and it’ll hurt like hell,” you pout, eyes boring into his in an attempt to scour for admittance but when he doesn’t let up, you let a grin spread across your face, “i’ll let you do that for a kiss.”

but his inquiry isn’t what you expected, “just a kiss?”

“and a hug,” you nod, opening your arms and offering an innocent smile that barely stays for longer than a second before you feel his arms around your waist, his hand on the back of your head pulling you down to his longing lips.

the kiss lingers a little too long. seokjin pulls away only to breathe out a sigh of relief, as if quenched from the deprivation that almost drove him insane. his hands lock on your back as his face finds home in the crook of your neck. he tends to do that - breathe in the scent of your perfume as if it’s his safe haven.

“i missed you,” his breath is hot against your skin, but nothing could beat the warmth spreading throughout your whole body from just holding him like this.

your heart clenches in your chest. a kiss on top of his head.

“i know.”

taglist. @aretha170 @scalubera @ambersaesthetics @heyjiminnie @hyuck-me @fanfuckingfic @fangurl-ontgeside @bri-mal @waves-and-woods (if i missed anyone, please comment below. i haven’t got my shit together after coming back eye-)

note. so i wrote this before christmas, hence the holiday theme for this chapter. but stuff happened and i couldn’t post it. hope yall enjoyed!

#bts scenarios #seokjin scenarios #bts smut #seokjin smut #seokjin fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfic #seokjin fic #seokjin imagines #bts imagines #bts scenario #seokjin scenario #bts smuts #seokjin smuts #seokjin x you #seokjin x reader #bts x reader #bts x you

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pawsitivelymiraculous · 4 years ago

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Le parfum de l'amour

This is the @maribat-secret-santa-2020 piece for @saltandfluff I am so sorry for being late!

Anyway, I will be using the quantic kids, but you don't necessary have to know them to understand this fic.

The only have to know that "Melodie" is Allegra's nickname.

Ao3

It was always a bad idea to try to mess with fate. Everyone knew this. Allegra knew this, but she didn't care. Not when it was taking a toll on her sanity.

There were only so many times a person could see two literal soulmates walk past each other before they decided to take matters into their own hands.

So that's what she did.

Or well, was going to do once she could convince her friends to help her out.

"I don't know, Mel." Allan rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "These things take time you know? You cannot rush it." He glanced at the corkboard that was behind Allegra and winced, it was going to be impossible to talk her out of the crazy plan.

On the corkboard, there were two pictures. One was a selfie of Marinette Dupain-cheng. A twenty-year-old who was a regular at the café where Allegra and Claude worked at. After chatting with her in the mornings, Allegra decided to adopt the girl, and she introduced her to the rest of the group. She quickly became friends with Allan and surprisingly enough, with Felix as well.

The second picture was a rather blurry photo that was clearly taken from afar. You could sort of make out the image of Timothy Drake. The sleep-deprived twenty-one-year-old who had started going to the café for about a month. All the employees loved him because he never failed to amuse everyone with his half-asleep antics.

The one thing that both pictures had in common was a coffee cup.

On Marinette's collarbone, there was a small tattoo-like mark that looked like a coffee cup. The same one that was on Tim's wrist. Soul marks . Granted, they looked a bit plain compared to most people's soul marks, but in Allegra's eyes, they were the excuse she needed to get them together.

Allegra had shipped her two favorite customers long before she noticed their soul marks. But now that she knew they were soulmates . Well, she was not going to rest until they finally met.

"I'm not trying to rush things!" Allegra insisted. "I just want to push them in the right direction."

Allan looked at her, doubtful. "That's basically the same thing. Plus do actually think that," he squinted to read the list of plans that was tacked on the corkboard. "'Locking them inside a room with no escape' is merely pushing them in the right direction? 'Cause I think that sounds more like a hostage situation."

Allegra glared at him. "You know what? I don't need your help. Claude will help me. Right, Claude?"

Claude looked at her with wide eyes. "Oh no no no. Sorry Melodie but I can't."

"Uh, I'm sorry what?" Allegra blinked. It was very out of character for Claude to turn down the opportunity to help her with one of her elaborate plans. Not to mention that in this case, they were doing it to help Marinette.

"Allegra," he said solemnly, "this is a destiny thing. We just can't interfere."

Allegra facepalmed. "You can't be serious."

Claude looked at her dead in the eye. "If we interfere we might end up," he leaned towards her and whispered " cursed"

"Oh give me a break." Allegra pushed Claude away. "Are you guys kidding me? This is Marinette we're talking about. You all can't possibly think that Marinette wouldn't want to meet her soulmate, and as her friends, we have to help her."

"I agree with Allegra."

Everyone spun around in surprise.

Felix rolled his eyes at his friends' incredulous expressions. "What? Marinette is my friend as well. Is it really that shocking that I want to see her happy?" The three of them nodded. He ignored them. "Besides, I've heard Marinette ramble about soulmates nonstop, so it's clear that meeting hers is what she would want."

Allegra was the first to react "See guys? Even Felix agrees with me!"

Felix huffed. "Yes, but I also think that your plans are ridiculous and ineffective."

"Ouch"

"I think the best thing we can do to help is to get them to interact and we-"

"That's literally what my plans are for!" Allegra interrupted.

Claude crossed his arms. "And what do you mean by 'we'? I haven't agreed to do anything."

Shooting both of them a glare, Felix continued. "- can do that without needing to kidnap them. We simply have to make it so that they have no other choice but to sit at the same table at the café. You all know how friendly Marinette is, it will only be a matter of time before they start talking."

There was a beat of silence.

"That… that might actually work," Allan admitted. "Soulmates are naturally drawn to each other so once they actually have a conversation we won't have to do anything else. They can figure out that they're soulmates by themselves." He paused and then chuckled. "We'll just have to push them in the right direction."

"But how are we going to get them in the café at the same time?" Allegra asked. "Tim always comes in right after Mari has left."

"Pft that's easy!" Claude exclaimed. "Just tell her that you need help with something and that you'll need for her to stay a while longer at the café. Since Mari doesn't have early classes on Wednesday she'll agree and- oh!" Claude suddenly slapped his hand over his mouth as his eyes widened with horror. "This does not mean that I'm helping." He mumbled from underneath his hand.

Allan laughed. "I think you just did."

"Looks like someone's going to end up cursed." Allegra singed songed. "Not even ladybug is going to be able to help you with that bad luck that's to come." She teased.

Claude pouted. "Haha, laugh all you want." He then looked up at the corkboard and grimaced. "But you're right, there's no turning back now. What do you need me to do?"

Allegra clapped her hands in glee.

"Okay so here's the plan."

~♡~♡~♡~

Just like Claude had predicted, it was incredibly easy to convince Marinette to stay at the café. All that was left to do was orchestrate everything just so that the two soulmates had to sit at the same table.

It was easier said than done but after enlisting more people to help out, they were able to make sure that the café was full for that morning.

Everything was going according to plan…

Until…

"WHERE. IS. TIM?"

Claude looked around. "He hasn't arrived yet?"

"No!" Allegra cried. She glanced down at her watch and winced. They were running out of time.

Claude frowned. "And you know, it would have been nice if Marinette hadn't chosen today to wear a turtleneck."

Allegra couldn't help but agree. Sure, Marinette looked amazing with the turtleneck and skirt outfit but did she really have to wear it today? When they needed for her to show off her soul mark?

It was like the universe was against them.

But finally, Allegra heard a tinkling sound at the door. She spun around praying that it was Tim.

And it was!

He looked more tired than usual as he stumbled around trying to find a seat.

Allegra watched as Tim danced around the tables that were being occupied just as he was about to take a seat.

One after the other until finally, a good push later, he ended up at Marinette's table.

~♡~♡~♡~

Tim was too tired to deal with this.

All he wanted was to sit down, have a couple of cups of coffee at his favorite coffee shop and finally be awake enough to continue investigating the moth guy.

But apparently, that was too much to ask because almost all the tables were full.

"Sorry man," Claude whispered as he guided a couple and motioned them to sit at the table that Tim had beelined for.

"Oh, actually I'm waiting for Adam." Felix had said when Tim asked if he could sit with him. Which was strange since Adam had said that he was waiting for Felix when he asked him.

But he could barely comprehend what they were saying, so he was not conscious enough to complain.

Tim continued on his journey when he felt someone push him from behind. In his half-asleep haze, Tim lunged at the chair that was in front of him hoping that it would break his fall.

It took him a few seconds to recover. He wanted nothing more than to pass out right then and there, splayed out on a coffee shop chair as everyone stared at him wondering if he was drunk.

He too wondered if he was drunk, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so if he was drunk, he was not going to figure it out on his own.

When he finally looked up, his eyes met with a pair of beautiful bluebell eyes.

~♡~♡~♡~

Marinette watched as a guy stumbled around the café until finally flopping onto the other chair at her table.

It was clear that he was sleep-deprived. She had seen enough videos that her evil friends had taken when she was in a similar state to know the poor guy probably hadn't slept at all for the last week or so.

Marinette wanted nothing more than to drag the guy to the nearest bed or couch and wrap him up in a bunch of blankets. Just because she didn't comprehend the term "self-care" for herself didn't make Marinette any less of a "mom friend"

But she had to remind herself that she didn't know the guy, so it might be considered kidnapping to drag someone somewhere against their will.

Too bad.

The best she could do was offer him her own coffee.

"Hey, I think you need this more than I do at the moment." She said, pushing the drink his way as he stood up.

He mumbled something that could be interpreted as a "thank you" and eagerly took the drink. His eyes lit up when the heavenly liquid touched his tongue.

It was almost miraculous how quickly the caffeine took effect.

Actually, it was Marinette may or may not have mixed a little concoction she made with Tikki that helped her when she stayed up late with her regular coffee.

The guy blinked. "This. Is. Incredible."

Marinette laughed "Yeah, it's what I always get. Though you still look like you need to sleep."

"Yeah, yeah whatever." He waved her off. "But seriously, what is this called? I need a gallon of this."

"Sorry," Marinette said sheepishly "but I'm afraid that's a secret, you know, I'm kind of everyone's favorite, so I get the miracle coffee." Okay so that was a lie but what else could she say?

The guy pouted. Marinette had to admit that he looked adorable.

"Well, then I'm sure you can get me some then... um"

"Marinette."

"Ah, nice to meet you, coffee goddess, I'm Tim."

Marinette's cheeks heated up. "Uh, coffee goddess? Shouldn't they be the coffee gods and goddesses?" She pointed at Allegra, Claude, and the others.

"Nah, you have blessed me with this amazing coffee. Claude didn't even help me in my time of need."

"You know Claude?" Marinette asked, surprised.

"Yep, I've been coming here since I arrived in Paris, so I've gotten to know Allegra and Claude a bit."

"That's funny, I've never seen you. And I come here every day." Marinette said.

"Huh, that's weird. I've never seen you either. "

And from there they kept talking. Like they were old friends and not just acquaintances. Marinette found out that Tim had come from Gotham city. That he was in Paris because of business. Meanwhile, Tim learned that Marinette was an aspiring fashion designer and a college student who was close friends with almost everyone from the café.

Hours passed and the two were still deep in conversation completely oblivious to the crowd that had gathered behind the cafe's counter to watch the soulmates.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me about this before." Adrien, who had arrived after Tim, whispered to his cousin.

"I was under the impression that your father needed your assistance for the upcoming fashion show. I was not about to ask my dear uncle Gabe if I could steal you so that we could set up our friend and his future competitor, Marinette Dupain-cheng, with her soulmate."

Adrien hated to admit that he had a point. "Fine, but can you at least catch me up to date? Who is he?"

"He's a rich guy from Gotham city. He's pretty cool though he's basically Marinette when it comes to coffee which is honestly kinda scary now that I'm seeing them interact." Allegra whispered.

Adrien looked down to look at her. "Alright, I guess I'm going to have to do my own research since you guys are useless. What's his job? Why is he rich? If his from Gotham then who knows, maybe this guy is actually dangerous and wants to take Marinette as ransom for-"

"Oh please Adrien, stop with your theatrics. Do you honestly think that I would allow this if he was dangerous?" Felix interrupted.

"I mean-"

Felix glared at him.

"No?"

Felix sighed. "Timothy Drake is Marinette's soulmate, and I can assure you that he's clean. So don't worry about Marinette."

Allegra shushed the cousins. "Guys, I'm trying to listen here you know?"

"Um, you could probably hear better from up here" Felix nodded in agreement.

"Thanks, Adrien, but I don't want to risk Marinette seeing me and then remembering about time and stuff."

"Ah"

"Speaking of time, it's been years since I last ate, I'm hungry." Claude cut in.

"Claude! You're supposed to be with the customers!" Allegra whisper-shouted.

"Whoops."

~♡~♡~♡~

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end. Marinette eventually remembered the reason she had stayed in the cafe. Not only that but when she looked at her watch she realized that she was running late for class.

After Marinette's rushed exit, Tim went back to investigating Hawkmoth. But while they were trying to concentrate on their own thing. Marinette with her class and Tim with his research they found themselves zoning out and thinking about each other.

It was strange, they had quite literally just met.

Why had they made such an impact on each other?

~♡~♡~♡~

It wasn't until Marinette was getting ready to go to bed that she found the answer.

"Tikki is… is that what I think it is." Marinette's voice trembled as she stared at her reflection on the mirror.

Tikki gasped. "Oh Marinette, I think it is!"

Staring back at her was her soul mark, which no longer was a regular coffee cup but rather a gorgeous cup with beautiful red flowers that surrounded a somewhat familiar symbol.

"But, how? I mean they're not supposed to change… right? And why?" Marinette's eyes widened. "Does this mean that I met my soulmate? Who is it?"

Tikki giggled, "You seriously don't know?"

"Umm no? Should I?" Tikki continued to giggle as her holder looked at her confused. "Who is it Tikki?"

"Oh Marinette, how many new people did you meet today?"

"Uh, I don't know? I mean surely I must've passed by lots of strangers in the street." Marinette panicked. "Oh no Tikki! What if one of them is my soulmate? I'll never find out who they are!"

"So you don't remember meeting anyone else?"

"I don't think so, well other than ohhh- "

"Exactly"

~♡~♡~♡~

Tim could not believe what he was seeing. Gone was the plain coffee cup he was used to seeing, the daily reminder of the fact that he was still painfully single, it now had an intricate flower pattern that surrounded a symbol.

He recognized that symbol.

After weeks of researching and tailing the red Parisian heroine, he knew that it was the Ladybug symbol.

But why was it on his soul mark?

Unless…

No, the heroine couldn't be his soulmate, Tim hasn't even officially met her. Nor had he even seen her today.

The only blue-eyed girl he had met was Marinette.

Marinette

No, it was impossible. Except it wasn't. Tim had only known the girl for a couple of hours, but he knew that Marinette would make a great heroine or vigilante.

But, he… he was probably hallucinating, right? Tim hadn't slept for weeks, so surely he was just seeing things and his soul mark was still a plain coffee cup and the Marinette conclusion was just wishful thinking.

Right?

Because otherwise, his first meeting with his soulmate was him acting like a sleep-deprived zombie and Tim could not allow that.

Well, one thing was for sure, he really needed to get some sleep.

~♡~♡~♡~

Three days.

It took three days for Marinette to find Tim.

She looked everywhere. The coffee shop, Le Grand Paris Hotel, the tourist areas, and when she was ladybug she looked down from all the rooftops trying to find him.

But he had vanished, leaving Marinette worried sick that he had either A. Gone back to Gotham B. Died or C. Been so horrified that she was his soulmate that he decided to move to a remote island and changed his name in hopes of never seeing her again.

Gosh, she was starting to sound like her fourteen-year-old self.

But finally, she saw him, sitting on a bench, not far from her own home, looking down at his wrist.

He looked at his wrist like it was some puzzle he needed to solve. Marinette also noticed that he looked a lot more refreshed, so he must've finally gotten some sleep.

Marinette cleared her throat. "Well, you've been a very hard person to find Mr. Drake."

Tim looked up. "Ma- Marinette!"

"We need to talk."

Tim nodded his mouth hanging wide open as he stared at her soul mark.

"How do you feel about coffee? There's a coffee shop that's not very far from here, I hear their coffee is divine.

~♡~♡~♡~

Bonus:

(this was going to be a scene on the fic but I didn't know how to add it but it has important info sooo)

*They are at the coffee shop*

Marinette: So you're red robin.

Tim: And you're Ladybug

Marinette: Should I be worried? Like doesn't this compromise our secret identities?

*Claude and Allegra appear with some pastries*

Claude: Yooo Marinette! So you found your soulmate! Crazy right? We totally didn't have anything to do with it!

*Allegra elbows him*

Claude: So uh, congratulations! I um feel happy for you.

*looks nervously at Allegra who is glaring at him*

Claude: Bummer about the soul mark though…

*Allegra keeps glaring*

~♡~♡~♡~ Permanent tag list ~♡~♡~♡~

Claude: What? It's just a plain white cup!

Bonus bonus:

(here's a bad doodle and my crappy handwriting)

(If you want to be added or removed please let me know!)

@charme-de-malchan, @theatreandcomicfreak, @m3owww, @elliebelliegirl, @genevieve-the-demonologist, @vixen-uchiha, @t1dwarrior-of-earth, @waffleyunsure, @technicallyburninggarden, @azuremayscarlet, @vroomtaka, @emimar7, @ichigorose, @maskedpainter, @art-is-hard-to-do-sorry

#maribat #timari #tim x marinette #maribat secret santa #ml x dc #mlb x dc #quantic kids #My writing #my trash writing #my art #my trash art

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darkpinkyreturns · 4 years ago

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So, I’ve had this theory for a while and I’m finally making a post about it. I’m going to talk about why I think Brain is eviler in the reboot, outside of meta writing concerns. I know Maurice LaMarche's rationale for it is that he’s become bitter and frustrated with another couple decades of failure, but what if there’s a more specific inciting incident that made him this way? Under a cut for length.

Yes, I’m talking about Elmyra. I know it’s been declared noncanonical but personally, I don’t see the show as an alternate universe. I think it really did take place in the main timeline shortly after the original spinoff, and is a part of the mice’s backstory in the reboot. I think the lab got rebuilt eventually and they escaped her and went back to their ordinary routine.

I have specific evidence for Elmyra being a turning point, for which I will turn to the comics. You see, Pinky, Elmyra, and the Brain began in late 1998. The Pinky and the Brain spinoff comics ended in late 1998 and they went back to the Animaniacs ones until those ended in 2000. And in the late Animaniacs comics from that period? Brain’s writing has undergone a bit of a shift. There’s one particular story I’m thinking about here: Crossed Signals, from issue #51. Look at how it ends.

This seems rather at odds with his oft-stated goal in the original show of “making the world a better place”. In fact, the idea of the world being a better place seems to repulse him. This whole attitude of wanting humans to bow to him with no regard for their quality of life is pretty much exactly what he has going on in the reboot.

And this is still the 90s. Decades have not passed here to explain his shift in attitude. What he HAS recently gone through is a year or so of being held captive and tortured in the worst manner of his life, to the point that it eroded his sanity and his relationship with Pinky, by a human. I think that Elmyra destroyed his desire for humanity’s happiness. He survived years of being a lab experiment with his ostensible benevolence intact, but she was the last straw. His motivation is now revenge and catharsis, and it has been for a little over twenty years now.

I’ve got more elements of/evidence for this theory, but it gets into more complicated waters, so I’ll stop here for now! I hope this makes sense, and that people give it some thought. Looking at it this way makes me feel better both about PEatB and about his writing in the reboot. And hopefully, eventually he’ll find a way to recover and finally work through what Elmyra did to him.

#pinky and the brain #pinky elmyra and the brain #animaniacs #my posts #i feel like this is kind of incoherent but oh well #let me know if you have any questions about this because i have so many thoughts

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blouisparadise · 4 years ago

Photo

Here are some of the amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of September. We hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Hard Candy Dripping On Me (Til My Feet Are Wet) | Explicit | 1997 words

Louis gets fucked on a plane. That’s it.

2) Fucking Nightmares | Mature | 2151 words

Louis has a nightmare. Harry comforts him.

3) You Could Take A Lick (But It's Too Cold To Bite) | Explicit | 2469 words

“You look kinda thirsty.” Louis croons softly.

Harry leans back in his chair and tilts his head to the side. His eyes are covered by the pair of expensive shades, but Louis feels his eyes drifting down his backside as he lays on his stomach.

“Why don’t you bring me a bit of that ice cream, darling?”

Louis and Harry have fun in a summer day.

4) Interview With The Vampire | Explicit | 4135 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/Robert Pattinson.

Working at an alpha magazine wasn't always easy for an omega like Louis, but he's just landed his biggest interview yet with an A list actor who has asked for Louis especially. Unfortunately, the interview is with Rob Pattinson, the biggest pain in the arse alpha on the planet.

Inspired by Rob’s interview in GQ Magazine and not actually about vampires

5) Conozco La Vida | Teen & Up | 4761 words

Note: This fic contains no explicit smut, but since it’s omega Louis, we’ve included it.

"I have a son," he declared, there was a very thinly veiled layer of hesitation.

Harry was unaware in the direction which this conversation was heading but chose to stare at the man instead.

"He is an Omega," he dropped the pivotal piece of information.

Harry's attention was hooked now.

"He has been raised in an Omega convent all his life, he hasn't been in the presence of any Alpha who isn't his immediate family."

"I am still waiting for you to make a point."

"You could take him as an Omega."

Harry did not react, his face remaining perfectly free of betrayal of any sort of emotion and leaned back upon his chair, his leg crossed upon his knee. "You are selling your son to me?"

6) It’s Hard For Me To Go Home | Not Rated | 4890 words

Don’t call me baby again.

7) So Baby, Let's Keep It Secret | Explicit | 4638 words

“I’ll leave with you,” Harry said after a beat, sounding sure of himself.

“What!? No!, you can’t leave with me, Harry, you have a life here. You have a job and friends an-”

Harry kissed him in the middle of his rambling. “Which means nothing if I don’t have you.”

Into You Music Video AU.

8) ZOMOS | Mature | 5659 words

Is it easy to forget everything and start afresh? Is it easy being served with hateful glances and insults when all you wish for is to be loved? Is it easy to make it seem like everything is alright when in reality your world is crumbling into pieces with every breath you take?

Is it easy to be the omega who is unwanted by their alpha?

9) Your Biggest Fan | Explicit | 9075 words

Just like everyone else, Louis has a few habits that he can’t seem to break. Guilty pleasures, rather. His nails are perpetually short because he can’t quit biting them, the bottom of his shoes scuffed from tapping his foot constantly. Sometimes his leg gets a cramp from bouncing it so often underneath his desk. That isn't too bad, he reckons, just some average teenage coping mechanisms.And also, occasionally, minor instances of theft.

10) Making A Splash | Explicit | 9557 words

“You want this?” Harry muses, fisting his cock as he drags his hand lazily up his thick length. Louis eyes the motion and nods his head absentmindedly. “You want to show everyone at this beach how much of a slut you are for Daddy’s cock?”

“M‘your slut,” Louis immediately replies, inching closer, inching closer with his eyes glued on Harry’s glistening cock, precome shining under the sun as it dribbles out his slit.

Harry grins widely and stops the movement of his hand to grip himself at the base again, pushing Louis’ head down. “Show everyone how much of a slut you are.”

11) Hung Up High in the Gallery | Mature | 14006 words

When Harry’s best friend, Louis, comes to support him at his art show, he decides they need to do some celebrating afterwards. How fast do the lines between friends and lovers get blurred ... or better, get painted?

12) My Home Is Your Body | Explicit | 15341 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/Henry Cavill.

He had seen who had made his senses go haywire. His ex was in the front row, five feet in front of him. He felt his eyes on him even as he mechanically made his way to the end of the runway, hoping to God he didn’t look like a maniac. Everything was a blur. He somehow managed to walk the rest of the way without falling or emoting anything. Why was he HERE? Of all places.

...where Louis is a successful omega model and the last thing he expects is his ex to become the co-partner of the new company he works for....

13) There's Nothing Like It (Nothing At All) | Explicit | 15471 words

Note: This is a sequel to this fic.

His hands are outstretched on the mattress like he’s reaching out for something, reaching out for Harry. It makes his heart swell, almost bursting with affection and love. He only waits a bit longer before reaching over to turn off the light and pulling Louis to his chest, smiling when the omega immediately sighs in contentment, nuzzling into his skin happily.Tomorrow, he tells himself. Tomorrow, they’ll talk about it.-Or, Harry isn’t ready for things to change, and the end is just the beginning.

14) Seven Simple Words | Explicit | 15535 words

It’s not like he and Louis were a couple. No, they might have been a lot of things—best mates and colleagues with a seemingly convenient friends-with-benefits arrangement—but never a couple. It wasn’t Louis’ fault he didn’t feel the same way and couldn’t reciprocate Harry’s feelings in the way he’d wanted, the way he’d needed. Harry had allowed himself to get in too deep, his entire being aching to be loved back by the object of his affections. But in love, as in life, you don’t always get what you want.

15) Works Like A Charm | Explicit | 18061 words

Ever since Louis joined the team in fifth year, a few facts have become set in stone.

One: Louis is the best chaser in Hogwarts.

Two: Harry is the best beater in Hogwarts.

Three: They do not get along.

So it’s really unfair of Liam to think that forcing them to spend time together as Louis recovers from his injury will make them the best of friends. The last thing Louis would do is get along with that git.

16) The Way This River Runs | Explicit | 27417 words

It’d be so easy to just open his mouth and plead with Harry, to scream I’m sorry until his voice disappears, but he can’t. Be it his pride or his ego or his insecurities, he just can’t do it. The worst part is that he knows Harry would probably forgive him.

But Louis doesn’t want phony forgiveness. He doesn’t want Harry’s soothing words and pity embrace, thinks he might just break altogether if he was offered them. He feels like he’s made of glass recently and it’s to the point where he kind of wants to tip over the edge, just to see if he’d shatter. Just to see who’d be there to pick up the pieces if he did.

17) Give Me Love | Explicit | 41041 words

Louis doesn't feel like a good omega, Harry doesn't remember how to be an alpha, and they figure it out together.

18) Falling Out Of Fashion | Explicit | 42123 words

Harry Styles has been the established face of the Grimshaw House of Design for two years. It’s a prestigious and coveted modeling contract Harry took away from once-famed supermodel Zayn Malik. With the model transition Grimshaw’s designs went from a more urban, Zayn-forward aesthetic, to a Harry-favoring flowery, flowing femininity in the Grimshaw designs for men.

So when Harry sees a dress Grimshaw made for a famous Marvel actress, “only a tease”, Nick says, of the evolving look, Harry knows Grimshaw is shifting his aesthetic.

Harry wonders if he can pull off the look.

19) Three Days In February | Explicit | 189346 words

Louis is cursed after a night out with the lads and the five have just three days to figure out what happened and how to break it before Harry and Louis both lose their sanity and maybe something more. Louis can hear everything Harry thinks and Harry isn’t sure he can keep his feelings for Louis a secret from his own mind.

Ridiculous amounts of banter and angst, a lot of Harry and Louis alone together, a healthy dose of OT5 friendship, and one very magical weekend.

20) Boss Bitch | Explicit | 386901 words

Harry had always wanted to work for this successful mafia; the mafia that everyone knew, everyone feared. Led by none other than the pahntom

"L'eue Courante", whom everyone knew existed, but had no other clues who this person could be. The only thing known was a high heel the phantom once left.

So this person had to be woman, Harry assumend. And man, was he wrong.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#bottom louis #top harry #blp fic recs #monthly fic recs #fic recs #blp #larry

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athys-obelia · 4 years ago

Text

summary: the non dysfunctional!imperial family au hcs no one asked for 😳👉👈

character/s: anastacius de alger obelia, claude de alger obelia, athanasia de alger obelia, jennette de alger obelia

here's part 2 :)

let’s set our stage, shall we?

first of all claude n anastacius’ dad is dead coz we don’t like him at all ew

so ana is the emperor, and claude is his heir presumptive (aka he’s got the strongest claim to the throne rn, but this can be changed by the birth of someone who has a stronger one - ie, anastacius’ child who would be the heir apparent) also bc “i know my mom and i gave u lots of childhood trauma that you prlly won’t be recovering from because therapists aren’t a thing here but here’s a crown you might get to make it better”

claude’s in a position where after the birth of ana’s kid/direct descendant, he’s gonna be given a duchy that athy should inherit after him while still retaining the title of prince

but after hearing of diana’s pregnancy, ana tells her and claude he doesn’t really plan on having children and wants to make their future kid his successor

he basically reserves a spot for their child in the directory and rather than announcing anything publically, anastacius names her athanasia after the sex is confirmed

then this mf obviously pulls a clown move and gets penelope pregnant and complicates things, ultimately naming her jennette, finding the name fitting - ‘god is gracious’

and really, what could be more evidence of god’s grace than the child he’s now fathering, when he thought his legacy would be ending with him?

anyways!!!

so since athy and jennette are born near the beginning of ana’s reign, both claude and anastacius are wayyy too busy trying to bring back the empire from the literal brink of bankruptcy and a possible war to really spend time w their kids

it’s alright, though!! lily is hired as athy’s nanny, while jennette gets kiel’s mom as hers

they all still live together, though obviously the main palace is for ana + jennette while claude + athy are in a separate one

this 'separate one’ is ruby palace after ana dismisses the concubines and he definitely 100% did this on purpose, and whenever he’s summoning claude he’s such a shit about it and goes about it the way you’d summon a deadass concubine

on a separate note, it’s surprisingly claude who visits athy first - he’s seen her here and there with lily but hasn’t ever had the chance to spend time w her. but now it’s almost been a year since athy’s birth (or diana’s death), her first birthday is fast approaching, and he is drunk

lily is a reallyyyy light sleeper and enters the nursery upon hearing someone inside

she doesn’t expect to see the prince standing above his daughter’s crib, a strand of her golden hair between his fingers as he just…stares at her

she approaches quietly, curtsying in greeting - he’s too absorbed to notice, and after a few minutes of silence lilian tells him, “babies can get lonely too, your highness.”

he glances at her then, confused. “how?” he really can’t understand how this girl, who can’t even speak yet comprehend something like loneliness

“princess athanasia is very responsive to her surroundings, much more than children her age usually are,” lily says, “and i like to believe children are able to tell when their parents are with them.”

he scoffs - what a foolish thought. still, claude sits by her bedside, and before he can register it, he’s taken over by sleep

the next night, claude makes his way towards the nursery and stiffly asks if athy could sleep beside him for the night - it’s fairly late, but lilian allows it

he’s gone to the main palace too early the next morning for athy to be awake, but she spent about two minutes tops worrying about the strange surroundings, saw the shiny chandelier and fancy bed and decided yes, she doesn’t mind this kidnapping

this becomes somewhat of a regular occurrence soon enough, and sometime that week she wakes up in the middle of the night with her nose pressed into something soft and literally falls off the huge ass bed at the realisation that this something soft is actually her papa’s hair (you just know that hair smells great i mean uh-)

this mans wakes up and peeks at her on the ground, reaches out to grab her from the front of her nightdress (he swears it’s exactly how he’s seen lilian do it) and plops her back onto the bed

she backs up OBVIOUSLY, you don’t just wake up with a random ass man in your bed and just vibe together?? lee jihye is dying but he glares at her for disturbing his sleep and athy pulls her act together in 0.000001 secs as claude pulls her closer and goes back to sleep

as athy grows, claude starts allowing her to visit his office during the day until it becomes a sort of ritual - he’d have tea and milk prepared and she’d come, sitting somewhere completing a puzzle or sum while he works

mans nearly tears down the entire imperial palace the day she doesn’t show up until he finds her in the garden, teaching jettie the 'proper’ way to hold a teacup during tea parties while lilian and roger’s wife, vivian, watch

athy emotionally blackmails asks him to join the tea party, so half an hour later, anastacius finds his brother sitting on the grass with a plastic teacup that athy’s filling with hot water as she lectures him to learn to fix his posture from lily so he can sit like a “proper dignified lady”

so in the beginning, jennette actually ends up spending more time with claude than her dad. though one day, the brothers are in the audience hall when athy runs in with felix running after her telling her not to run (there’s a shit ton of guards surrounding anastacius so felix has orders to be with princess athanasia when claude is with ana)

anastacius is used to this sight, and watches, smirking at his brother’s subtle smile as athy offers him this wonky looking flower crown - claude accepts it wordlessly, and ana wants to slap his ass to sanity, who wouldn’t thank their kid when they do adorable things like this??

but then they hear another voice, and in comes jennette with vivian not too far behind her. now jettie has a much cleaner looking crown in her hand, but she glances at her father’s elaborate and beautiful crown all embedded with gems and glittering and then at the one she’s fashioned out of daisies

she's always thought she was much like her uncle - jennette was so fascinated by the plain daises, they weren’t flashy but caught her eye all the same - while athy was shiny and bold like her dad

but now she’s second guessing her choice, how could she make such a simple crown for her dad, the emperor??

claude sighs from beside anastacius and literally picks off his brother’s crown before tossing it towards a very tired felix

athy urges jennette forward, and with a bright red covering her entire face she offers the crown. jennette glances at her uncle for comfort before muttering, “for papa”

anastacius.exe has crashed

this blushly, embarrassed, and apparently talented at flower crowns kid was his?

long story short he forgets to breathe or react and jettie thinks he hates the crown and hates her and won’t ever like to see her again so she starts getting teary

claude pushes his brother’s head down before athy can be convicted for murder

ana 100% almost faints when her tiny chubby fingers delicately place the crown in place, he’ll never admit it but he closed his eyes and almost hugged her instinctively as she shyly adjusted some of his bangs around the new headpiece, muttering, “papa pretty”

jennette rushes back to her sister, who’s glaring daggers at the emperor

anastacius tries to smile to calm jennette a bit and maybe look nice enough for his niece to not kill him in his sleep

right well kiel becomes the royal playmate for both the princesses - athy has her classes with him since she’s advanced and honestly they’ll be going back forth with infodumps one minute and he’s teaching her to make paper airplanes the next

(she writes notes on the paper airplanes the next time she’s in claude’s office and flies them towards him, stuff like, 'does uncle cius also snore loudly like papa?’ and he gets seriously offended like a pissbaby)

jennette first met kiel when he was visiting his mom - vivian had to leave for a bit and she taught him a bunch of flower names and their meanings in the meantime - he makes sure to research a new flower every time he visits her, and brings her a bouquet of said flowers she always knows them but never says anything coz she doesn’t wanna hurt his feelings and he gets so excited as he tells her about their meanings it’s so cute

speaking of jennette - claude and ana may seem worlds apart but they’re at the same level of emotionally constipated

ana watches his brother and niece interact and he craves that, an unconditional, timeless love that can’t possibly be tainted by ulterior motives or the like, but he just doesn’t know how to approach little jettie

it seems easy enough - she’s a smiley, sweet girl and theoretically would be friendly if he is to approach her

but gods he’s just so ashamed - such a sweet babe grew without either of her parents and he doesn’t have an excuse because holy hell, even claude is close to athy

he’s being served food in his chambers when he asks the maid about jennette, and she tells him how among her first words was 'love’ and the brunette would just stroll the palace pointing at people and declare “love you” and watch their face light up

thats so CUTE OMFG

his jaw is touching the floor when he’s told that his daughter knows the names of every worker within the palaces

at this point he’s honestly questioning whether this child is his at all

he’s absolutely horrified at the realisation that this maid, who doesn’t even work in jennette’s part of the palace, knows more about her than he does - hell, he hadn’t even asked vivian to keep him updated on her growth, what right does he have to stick himself into her life now?

now, the maid quietly suggests starting with something small like inviting jennette to tea and

of course he goes about it the wrong way??

poor jettie thinks she’s being tested by the ruthless emperor on her etiquette and spends the entire day practicing with claude after athy guilted him into it

she’s so nervous in front of her dad that he honestly feels even guiltier, and anastacius hurries to grab her hands in his to calm their tremble as she reaches to serve him tea

she apologises lmao and he’s just so flustered himself that he orders for her to sit down and instructs her through a few deep breaths

as she calms down, ana serves her the tea before asking whether girls her age even drink tea

she says no and you can literally hear the crickets

he slides the cup he’s poured for her over to his side before gesturing towards the deserts (it was claude’s daughter-luring pro tip) on her side

“you look like you read a lot,” ana says, before asking whether she’s been reading anything interesting lately

“i don’t, actually,” she tells him shyly

anastacius laughs at how of all things his hate for books is what she got from him - and only when jennette chuckles does he realise that he said that out loud

he lets her go around her bedtime, feeling rather… energized? he doesn’t know how to explain it, but it’s a good feeling

he’s busy again the next day, but has an aide send her flowers - the same ones she had put in her flower crown for him

yes lucas is still sleeping in the palace, yes athy still finds him

so athy sees the flowers from uncle cius and is enraged, literally walks up to her uncle and demands he leave jennette alone if he’s only gonna break her heart by neglecting her

and so we have fifteen minutes of the emperor of obelia stuttering as he explains himself to this seven year old

smfh his cluelessness reminds her of her own dad and she takes pity on ana’s suffering soul

the next morning, to give him a chance to redeem himself, athy asks all four of them to have breakfast together - they accept the invitation, and despite an awkward start, the meal seems to be going well

peace is not written in this family’s fate however, and this is where the first coughing up blood thing happens

ohhhh the palace staff almost gets massacred that day

athy’s limp body is moved to jennette’s room since it’s the closest - lily bursts into tears at the very sight of her princess, jennette refuses to eat or drink until her sister can, felix hears his heart break, claude is barely holding himself together

ana is livid - who dares poison a member of his family? what has he even done to earn the privilege of calling these girls his family, when he can’t protect them, at the very least?

claude absolutely refuses to leave her room and finishes all his work right outside her door, lest she wake up in pain again

anastacius can’t keep his own anxiety about jennette at bay, insisting she sleep with him as long as claude stays with athanasia - he can tell she’s drained, and she ends up sharing some of her worries late at night. he soothes both her worries and her cries, letting her curl up into him despite it being a rather uncomfortable position

the family is thrown into chaos again once they realise it was never poison, but athy’s own magic that caused this

aka when chibi lucas drops by and voodoos her back to 100%, everyone legit starts worshipping the ground he walks on - he saved their precious princess!!

ana insists on making him athy’s royal playmate after hearing she isn’t fully healed yet

what does this give us? well, a very very early lucas vs kiel

since they’ve both got the title of royal playmate, they constantly argue on whether being the future duke alpheus is a better title than the future royal magician

the girls are always dragged into this - athy always takes kiel’s side to avenge blackie, and jennette likes kiel too, but the young magician sir saved her sister!!

so.

when vivian passes away due to an illness, it’s like roger is an entirely different person

jennette + kiel + athy all help with the funeral preparations since she was a mother/aunt to them all

felix seems to be paying extra attention to kiel

it isn’t long after this that roger decides to send him to arlanta for his studies, leaving behind two disillusioned princesses

athy spends her time viciously studying to stay ahead of arlanta’s curriculum, while jennette takes an interest in cooking

(athy tries and fails spectacularly; lucas laughs at her and jettie accidentally serves him his favourite food too salty to be edible)

a/n: this would be the first of the two parts, so stay on the lookout, hope y'all enjoyed n have a great day <3

edit: part 2

#wmmap #sbapod #who made me a princess #suddenly became a princess one day #no angst!au ?#well some angst #anastacius de alger obelia #claude de alger obelia #athanasia de alger obelia #jennette magrita #jennette de alger obelia #felix robane #lucas #kiel alpheus #ezekiel alpheus #lilian york #roger alpheus #headcanons

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