#so i had to charge it and i was still not doing well

[crazyvik97rpg]

The night wasn’t completely over yet once William was gone at least. Aside from chatting with his new neighbour, Sebastian also facetimed with his boyfriend a little more once he was home, showed him all the cats again, chatted a bit longer. It’s been an incredibly long day for William and yet he only hung up once he was home himself, ready to just fall from the shower straight into bed. Sebastian definitely felt better tonight, despite the additional pain – he slept better, didn’t have any nightmares.

While William took his much needed shower, he got a surprise text from someone – apart from Isa asking how he is doing, Othello texted him.

‚Hey, I wanted to ask which room Sebastian’s in and if he’s still in hospital? I couldn’t with Isa but I wanted to pay him a visit either way :)‘

In the morning Sebastian even felt somewhat well rested – even got some porridge with fruit for breakfast and not boring juice and fruit purree. God, had he missed solid food. His stomach was only recovering slowly but it was already much better than yesterday.

On this fine Friday morning, Sebastian also chatted some more with his bed buddy. He learned that the man was close to 70 years old, retired military man and former lieutenant at the royal marines. That in itself already sounded pretty insane and Sebastian learned a lot about his many adventures out on the sea. It was so completely different to his own life. He and Mr Shaw, as he got to learn his name, were both pretty chatty, which was fortunate. Mr Shaw liked Sebastian’s tattoos and hair, mentioned how they all had to shave their heads the moment they started their training as young rookies. Sebastian liked listening to him – a friendly though odd fellow, heh, just like he was.

Later before noon Dr Cole came around again to check on them. When she came to Sebastian to ask him about how he was feeling, Sebastian of course asked when he would get discharged. Unfortunately Dr Cole confirmed, what he had feared – he would only be able to go home by Monday morning, as she didn’t have weekend shifts this week and she was the one to sign all the documents – so that would all happen on Monday. Sebastian hoped in the morning.

At school, meanwhile, everything was much as always. Sebastian’s students were somewhat glad that his classes were just…substituted by another teacher, they could do their homework, basically had an hour to do whatever they wanted. Teachers too assumed Sebastian simply was sick for a few days – nobody really realized that his sick leave would go on some more weeks.

Their friend group was of course prepared today – Ronald had brought flowers, Alan and Eric had been in charge of sweets. After school, they would stop by Sebastian‘s place to feed the kitties, then they would all go visit him together.

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes. 

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times. 

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?” 

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them. 

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

[frudoo]

I’ve only had your baker! simon for one day and I already know that I would cause mass destruction if something happened to him 😁 no but seriously such a cute and fun read I loved it thank you so much for sharing!

He is my BABY and I am obsessed <3

Part 2 of this!

Warnings: Simon is healing 🤍 Fem!Reader.

Simon’s heart skips a beat. It’s a scam, it’s got to be. No way such a pretty woman would dare talk to him, business move or not. Although, the more he looks through your profile and sees the amount of posts you’re tagged in, it’s easy to conclude that you are, in fact, real. Regardless, he’s still wary as he finally begins typing out a response.

— No charge? Sounds too good to be true. What’s the catch?

Maybe a little harsh, but hey—can never be too careful nowadays. If there’s one thing the military instilled in him, it’s to trust nobody. Simon flops down onto his couch, fingers anxiously tapping along his knee as he watches you type, the ellipses disappearing and reappearing again. He wonders if you’re just as nervous as he is, but if that were the case, surely you wouldn’t have contacted him first.

— No catch, I promise! No offense, it’s just that your pictures are a little grainy and I don’t believe they act as a great showcase for your talent. Really, I just want to show you how pretty your treats can look on camera!

Simon sucks his teeth stubbornly. He knows his pictures aren’t the best, but fucking hell, must everybody point it out? He’s about to type a scathing response and block you, but another message pops up beneath your previous one.

— Please, just a chance. We’re in the same area, so I can just come to you, wherever you want me.

A heavy sigh escapes the big man. His therapist has been telling him he’s too uptight, suggesting that he should balance out his peace by stepping out of his comfort zone once in a while. Besides, when’s the last time a sweet girl has given him the light of day? He’d be a fool to pass up this opportunity. Simon pinches the crooked bridge of his nose, trying to talk some sense into himself. It’s not like it’s a date, simply just two businesses helping each other out. If it doesn’t work, he never has to see you again.

Yeah, that sounds good. If everything goes up in flames, he can simply block you and move on with his life, continuing to post shitty pictures of his desserts. His thumbs twitch before tapping the screen once again.

— You’ve beat it out of me. When are you available?

Your response comes faster than he can blink.

— Saturday?

Two days. That gives him plenty of time to prepare (and maybe get Price to order an extensive background check on you). Simon can do that, no problem.

— I can be ready for you by about half 11.

Ready for you? Fucks’ sake, what is this? She’s not a bloody prostitute.

— That sounds good! Just send me your address day of. I’m looking forward to it!! :)

Simon smiles. Simon smiles, and he doesn’t even realize it. If he did, he would fix it immediately—but he doesn’t. Instead there’s a pep in his step when he stands from the couch, grabbing his journal and scribbling down his thoughts and ideas for what he’ll make on Saturday. His therapist will be proud.

Simon allows himself to be proud as well.

[babygirlwritessmut]

♡︎ part8. a complete silence rule

MINORS DNI!

・❥・pairing: vi (arcane) x fem!reader

・❥・ summary: you and Vi came to library for studying, but she can`t resist touching you

・❥・ genre: smut + kinda friends to lovers

・❥・ word count: 1.9k

✎ warnings: 18+, smut, dom!vi, oral sex, fingering, sex in public place

WHEN I NEEDED YOU masterlist

a week after Vi was discharged from the hospital, she returned to college. she wasn’t allowed to play yet, but she didn’t miss a single practice, even if it just meant warming up with the others and then sitting on the bench to watch. she recovered quickly, but if you hadn’t insisted, she would’ve tried to play on the first day back. the doctor had strictly forbidden it, and you made sure to keep an eye on her. though Vi was eager to return to her normal pace, full recovery required time, as the risks were still too high.

another bit of good news - Troy was no longer on the team or even at college. you saw him clearing out his locker as his parents and security escorted him away. when you asked your dad if he knew anything about it, he simply kissed your forehead and told you not to worry. either way, you didn’t mind; whatever your father had done, it had worked. truth be told, it even scared you a little, but Troy got what he deserved. naturally, all accusations were dropped, and your mom mentioned in confidence that your father had threatened Troy’s family, saying you’d press charges for assault and all the vile things their son had done. it was a relief to finally exhale; for a moment, it even felt like the air without your ex was lighter.

without Troy’s bullying, Josh finally left the team, free from the person who’d tormented him for years. he seemed to have started playing guitar in his garage. but the biggest surprise was that he’d found a partner. according to Trish, they met at the last match and hit it off, though homophobic Troy had always intimidated Josh, and for good reason. long story short, many people in his social circle felt better without him, and you were glad it was over.

after classes, you met Vi in the parking lot. she kissed you on the lips and wrapped her arms around your waist, letting her hands slide lower. smiling mid-kiss, she murmured, “maybe I should transfer to another school”

“and why’s that?” you teased, slipping your hands under her shirt, pushing her jacket aside, and pulling her closer, which made Vi bite your lip.

“I can’t focus on school or anything serious when you walk around looking so gorgeous and tempting,” she said, squeezing your hips and leaning you against the hood of her car.

“I can’t stand my loneliness, especially when you two are kissing so sweetly out here for all to see,” interrupted a voice. it was Trish, standing behind you with her arms crossed. “just a reminder, Vi, that I was the one who first told your new girlfriend how beautiful you are, so both of you owe me”

finally, you and Vi let go of each other and laughed. Vi took your hand and said, “and I’ll be forever grateful to you for it”

“ready to go?” you asked Trish, who was still grinning as she watched the two of you.

“I came to say I won’t be able to make it today. mom’s not feeling well, and I want to stay with her. do you mind if we reschedule for tomorrow?” Trish said, looking a little apologetic.

“of course, no problem at all. send her my best and wish her a speedy recovery. if she’d like, I can bring over some of my mom’s special soup; it’s really delicious,” you replied understandingly.

“that would be wonderful. thank you, I’ll text you about tomorrow” Trish gave you a quick hug goodbye before hurrying home.

“where were you two going, and what’s been rescheduled for tomorrow?” Vi asked, curious.

“the library. we have a history test coming up, and Trish and I often go there to focus. there’s a total silence rule, so we can’t gossip or listen to music. it sounds odd, but we get distracted so easily that the library’s our only hope,” you explained.

“want me to go with you?” she looked into your eyes. “unless this is some kind of special friend ritual?”

“no, no, nothing like that, but are you sure you want to sit quietly for an hour with a history book?” you raised an eyebrow at her.

“yes, especially since I have the test too. I’m not playing right now, so the coach won’t be able to get me extra credit for athletic involvement,” Vi said a little sadly, clearly missing her usual active lifestyle. but you weren’t giving in - the doctor’s orders were law, especially for Vi, and she deserved the best care.

“alright, then, let’s go,” you decided to steer the topic away from sports to take her mind off it.

“why an hour, though?” Vi asked, referring to what you had mentioned earlier.

“well, it’s not strict or anything, just a rule Trish and I came up with: an hour of uninterrupted studying, then any break or distraction we want. it’s like a little motivation,” you shrugged with a smile.

“if it’s the rule, then let’s follow it,” Vi said as she opened the passenger door for you and got behind the wheel.

ten minutes later, you arrived. there weren’t many people there, so you took your and Trish’s usual seats near the bookshelves. as you’d told Vi, there was complete silence, only occasionally broken by the sound of turning pages. Vi sat next to you, taking off her jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair. when she turned back, she caught you staring at her hands, biting your lip, which made her smile and raise an eyebrow. you felt a bit embarrassed, but it wasn’t surprising - you never focused on Trish this way, yet with Vi nearby, you realized it might be a little harder to concentrate.

you quickly looked away, pulling out a sheet with the test questions. each question had a list of recommended books to review. pointing out a few titles to Vi, you both set off to find them. the history section had plenty of books, so it took a little time to gather what you needed.

Vi leaned over to you and very quietly asked where she should find a particular book, you pointed to the bottom shelf, and she nodded. running your eyes over the stand with books, you saw that a little higher is hidden a book, the author of which is your teacher, usually it is occupied by someone, but today was a good day. when you reached for her, Vi looked up and was very pleased with what she saw. the length of your skirt gave a good view of your underwear, which made Vi feel incredible desire and attraction. she carefully stood up and slowly ran her hand down your leg from your ankle to your thigh until her fingers were under your skirt. you almost didn't let go of the book from your surprise, your eyes became round and goosebumps ran through your body, you wanted to say something, but Vi only put her index finger to her lips. she took the book and placed it on the shelf, leaving her other hand on your butt, glancing over at you, she smiled at you, desire burning in her eyes, you felt incredibly attracted to her, so you moved a little closer. her lips covered yours, you tasted her as her warm tongue slipped between yours, Vi pulled you closer to you, squeezing your butt tighter, her other hand ending up under your shirt, her thumb gently caressing your skin as her lips kissed you.

she pulled away from you and leaned into your ear, saying “the rule of complete silence, remember?”. her fingers ran up the fabric of your panties under your skirt and she ran her hand down touching you. she smirked when she felt how wet you were, running a finger over your clit you rested your head on her shoulder holding back a moan. every movement seems very slow and you wanted more, you could feel the vibrations going through your body when her finger started stimulating your clit more actively, you held on to her with your hands so you wouldn't fall. she covered you with her lips again and you felt her finger enter you, a wave of pleasure covered your body, you immediately started to move on it, kissing her more passionately, your hips moving and your body getting heavier. she wasn't about to stop, her finger digging into you harder and harder as you struggled to hold back a scream. only the rustle of the books reminded you where you were now, you almost didn't care, you could feel your wetness running on her finger, you were so wet and excited that you didn't care if they could hear you now, you wanted her touch, you wanted to cum from her fingers, you wanted to show her what pleasure she brings you. when her second finger was inside you tightened your grip on her, and Vi sped up as much as possible, your legs were just shaking at this point. Vi's other hand pulled your bra down and squeezed your breasts, you threw your head back and surrendered to the feeling, you came so hard it made your head spin. holding you, she pulled her hand out of your panties and pressed you against the bookshelf, kissing you again. her lips moved to your neck and trailed down.

“what are you doing?” you said almost inaudibly in surprise.

Vi just looked up at you and answered “you said we had an hour”

goosebumps ran down your spine and she returned to your neck again, kneeling, Vi placed your leg over her shoulder and lifted your skirt, putting her index finger to her lips again to keep you quiet.

her fingers gently pulled your panties to the side, and she ran her tongue over your pussy, collecting a mess you had done earlier. your body was so heavy that you grabbed the shelf with one hand to keep from falling. her lips pressed against your wetness, she didn't tease like before, her tongue was immediately inside you, you opened your mouth again in a silent moan and ran a hand into her hair. Vi's hands wrapped around your ass, and she ate you out greedily as you held back a moan. she was sucking your clit and running her tongue which was giving you incredible pleasure, you were moving your hips to ride her face as she explored your most intimate place. the second orgasm didn't take long, you came from her tongue even faster than from her fingers. you didn't have any strength left, but how nice it was. she put your panties back in place and climbed on top of you.

“I see you liked it,” she said teasingly. you just bit your lip and nodded, straightening your skirt.

“maybe next time I can sit on your face properly” you winked at Vi and ran your finger over her lips which were still wet from you.

“no reason to wait, you can still stand so…” Vi smiled and took your things and led you by the hand out of the library to the questioning looks of the others.

[qqueenofhades]

so I've been watching a lot of videos abt food that's uniquely Hong Kong and y'know with all the changes happening there I had a thought like hm is this preservation and documentation of cultural foods that are at risk of being lost?

and then I thought gosh this sounds familiar likkke everywhere we see violent colonization occur not only are lives and freedom lost but also language culture food

and then I wanted to ask you as a historian: has this always been the case? have people always had low key anxiety about culture "loss" or did they think of it a diff way? is this framing of colonization and cultural loss a recent one?

I'm realizing this is a big question and we are all le tired from les recent events, so pls view this as a no pressure ask, I just uh figured you're the only historian I have real access to haha

This is an important question that I don't currently have the mental wherewithal to answer in great depth, but I think it's important to speak to briefly. And I'll put it this way: yes, human beings have always felt that their culture, their way of life, their present existence, their friends and family, and the forces at work against them are tenuous, uncontrollable, and prone to sudden and violent destruction. I'd say it's one of the key themes of being human. I'll cite the famous example of the 8th-century Old English elegy The Ruin of the Empire, known usually as The Ruin:

This is what many of us would consider the dark and distant past, wherein an unknown person in Anglo-Saxon England is observing the ruins of the Roman Empire in Britain and reflecting on how fragile and frightening the present day feels, as if all the glory has faded into the past, as if things will not be "great" anymore, and the present is just moving inexorably toward darkness:

Bright were the castle buildings, many the bathing-halls, high the abundance of gables, great the noise of the multitude, many a meadhall full of festivity, until Fate the mighty changed that. Far and wide the slain perished, days of pestilence came, death took all the brave men away; their places of war became deserted places, the city decayed. The rebuilders perished, the armies to earth.

And yet... that was the 8th century. That was a very long time ago. A lot of history has happened since then, and despite everything, it's still here. People have always looked at the danger and fragility of their present situation and yearned for the perceived stability of the past. Indeed, the reason we have the myth of the "Dark Ages" is largely thanks to the 14th-century Italian humanist Petrarch, who looked at the (also objectively very, very crappy) 14th century, which is similar to now in a lot of ways, and built the shining myth of the Greco-Roman era as a bygone golden age that society needed to reinstate if it was going to save itself from self-inflicted destruction. This in turn gave rise to the Renaissance, which was intensely a cultural project to reclaim and re-instate a seemingly "better" past in the face of present-day chaos and uncertainty. This included a strict reifying of gender roles (etc. etc. Was There a Renaissance For Women?) and turn toward "purer" social ideals.

Anyway: these concepts have been shaped and articulated differently in various historical periods. But yes, the basic feeling that we are losing ourselves somehow, that the past was better and more stable, that the present challenges can be solved by insular reactionary politics, and so forth, is a very, very common human experience. For better or worse: both tangible and intangible artifacts have always been lost, destroyed, subject to violent sociopolitical conquest attempts, written out of history, and used for oppressive political and cultural processes. Part of the reason the right wing is doing so well worldwide right now is because they are tapping into a very, very old "put the strongman in charge and everything will go back to how [good] it used to be" mythology that is also as old as dirt and time, and which humans just keep doing when things feel existentially scary. This "weaponized nostalgia" is even more of an issue in the age of rampant disinformation, AI, and fake-news bubbles which can totally create what is accepted as reality, very often to the benefit of illiberal, right-wing, authoritarian forces. That is very hard to deal with and overcome, and I don't think we're anywhere near doing it.

That, therefore, is the bad news. The good (as it were) news is that at least these cultural processes and human instincts are not new, and indeed have continued for a long, long time. And even when these old things are destroyed, new ones emerge as well. So yeah.

[0omillo0]

— hyunjin x reader ;༊๋࣭

: g. angst/fluff :

a/n : drunk confession (in the rain), mentions of wine, shouting, happy ending

♡‧₊˚🌧️

The night had started out well enough. You were at a cozy dinner with friends, laughter and conversation filling the room, the gentle clink of glasses punctuating the easy chatter. You’d been looking forward to it all week—a chance to unwind, enjoy good food, and maybe even relax enough to let go of the way you felt your heart race every time Hyunjin looked your way.

You had asked him to drive you, feeling it was easier than arriving alone and dealing with your friends�� teasing questions about your friendship. Just friends, you’d remind yourself, repeating it like a mantra as the evening wore on.

But “just friends” was hard to remember when Hyunjin was sitting so close to you, his shoulder brushing against yours, his laughter warm and easy as it washed over you. It was impossible not to feel that spark every time your eyes met across the table, even when you tried to ignore it, drowning your nerves in a glass—or maybe two—of wine.

By the time the dinner ended, you were both a little tipsy, laughing at some joke that probably wasn’t even funny as you stumbled out of the restaurant together. The rain had just started to fall in light, misty droplets, and Hyunjin held the car door open for you, flashing a smile that felt almost too intimate in the dim light of the street.

The car ride was quiet at first, the steady rhythm of the rain filling the silence between you. But as the miles passed, the silence grew heavier, charged with something unspoken that neither of you could ignore anymore. You were too aware of him beside you, his hand gripping the wheel, his face lit up by passing streetlights, each glance at him making your heart race.

Finally, you couldn’t take it. The warmth from the evening, mixed with the alcohol still buzzing in your system, pushed you over the edge. You broke the silence, your voice soft but full of something you’d been holding back for too long. “Hyunjin… do you ever feel like we’re pretending?”

He glanced over at you, caught off guard. “Pretending?” His brow furrowed in confusion, but there was something else in his eyes, something hesitant, like he knew exactly what you meant but didn’t want to acknowledge it.

You sighed, looking out the window as the rain started to fall harder. “Like… we’re pretending to be just friends.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and immediately, you felt a pang of regret, of fear that maybe you’d gone too far.

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he kept his eyes on the road, his jaw tense, his hands gripping the wheel tighter. The silence stretched, thick with tension, and you felt your heart pounding in your chest, each second that passed filling you with more doubt.

Just when you thought he might ignore you, he pulled over to the side of the road, the car coming to a sudden stop. The rain was pounding down now, drumming against the roof, echoing the frantic beat of your heart.

He turned to you, eyes dark, his voice laced with frustration. “Why would you ask me that?” he demanded, his tone sharper than you expected. “Why now, after all this time?”

You felt a surge of anger rise up, fueled by his evasiveness, by the way he always acted like there was nothing between you, like he didn’t notice the tension simmering beneath the surface every time you were alone. “Because I can’t keep pretending like it doesn’t matter, Hyunjin!” you shot back, your voice trembling with emotion. “I can’t keep acting like I’m okay with being ‘just friends’ when… when I feel like this!”

“You think you’re the only one who’s been afraid of this?” he said, voice rough with emotion. “You think I haven’t thought about what it would mean if we crossed that line? If I told you… if I admitted that…” He trailed off, his words swallowed by the rain, but you understood.

Suddenly, the distance between you felt unbearable, the space charged with the weight of unspoken feelings. Before you could think, before you could let doubt creep in, you closed the gap, standing so close you could feel his breath, warm against the chill of the rain.

The confession hung between you, filling the small space of the car with an intensity that was almost overwhelming. For a moment, you both just sat there, breathing hard, staring at each other as the rain hammered down around you, trapping you in this moment.

“You act like it’s nothing,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rain. “You act like… like you don’t even care.”

His gaze softened, but there was still a fire in his eyes. “I act like that because I didn’t think I had a choice. Because I thought… I thought you didn’t want this.”

The vulnerability in his voice, in his expression, took you by surprise. It was like a dam breaking, the flood of emotions you’d both been holding back finally spilling over. Before you knew it, you were both shouting, voices raw, the frustration and longing and fear spilling out, untamed.

“I’ve been afraid,” you admitted, feeling the tears sting your eyes, mixing with the rain that had somehow managed to find its way inside the car. “Afraid that if I said something, you’d just brush it off, like always.”

Hyunjin’s face softened, his anger fading as he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek, gentle even in his frustration. “I could never brush you off,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Not when you mean this much to me.”

And then, in the midst of the rain and the silence that followed, he leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, the confession hanging in the air, unspoken but understood. The rain was relentless, blurring the world outside, leaving only the two of you, finally stripped of all pretense.

And that was when the silence fell, and his eyes held yours, and the anger faded, replaced by something deeper. And in that moment, all the walls you’d built around your heart crumbled, leaving only the certainty that this—this feeling, this moment—was real.

The world outside seemed to vanish, swallowed up by the rain that drummed relentlessly against the car roof. All you could see, all you could feel, was him—Hyunjin, his face close enough that you could see the raindrops clinging to his lashes, his eyes flickering with uncertainty, hope, and something far deeper.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The fight had drained you both, left you raw and vulnerable, stripped of all the defenses you’d clung to for so long. And yet, in the silence, there was a peace you hadn’t expected—a sense of inevitability, as if this was where you were meant to be all along.

Hyunjin’s hand came up, fingers trembling slightly as they brushed a damp strand of hair from your face. His touch was gentle, reverent, like he was afraid you might disappear if he held on too tightly. His eyes searched yours, a silent question hanging in the air, and you knew that if you pulled away now, he would let you go.

But you didn’t want to pull away. Not anymore.

“Say it,” you whispered, the words barely audible over the rain, but you knew he heard them. “If you feel the same… just say it.”

For a moment, you thought he might hesitate, that he might hide behind the wall he’d built around himself. But then his expression softened, and you saw the resolve settle in his gaze, a quiet determination that sent a shiver down your spine.

“I love you,” he breathed, the words falling from his lips like a promise, soft and unguarded. “I’ve tried to keep it in, tried to pretend that we could stay ‘just friends,’ but… I can’t anymore.” His voice broke slightly, and he let out a shaky laugh, his hand still resting gently against your cheek. “I love you, and I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Hearing those words—words you’d dreamed of but never let yourself believe—felt like a weight lifting off your chest. You let out a shaky breath, the relief and joy flooding through you, filling every corner of your heart until it felt like you might burst.

You didn’t need to say anything in response. Instead, you closed the distance between you, your lips finding his in a kiss that felt both familiar and brand new, like coming home and stepping into the unknown all at once.

The world around you melted away, the rain fading to a distant hum as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. His lips were soft, warm, and you could feel the tenderness in every touch, every gentle brush of his fingers against your skin. It was a kiss that spoke of all the things you’d both been too afraid to say, a silent confession that went beyond words.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and dazed, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, as if savoring the moment. His fingers traced gentle patterns along your jaw, his breath warm against your skin.

“I don’t know where we go from here,” he whispered, his voice laced with vulnerability, “but I know that I want it to be with you.”

You smiled, feeling the last remnants of your fears slip away, replaced by a quiet certainty. “Me too,” you replied, your voice barely more than a breath, but he heard it. “As long as it’s with you.”

For a while, you just sat there together in the car, wrapped up in each other as the rain continued to fall outside, washing away all the doubts, all the hesitation. In that moment, there was no need for words, no need for explanations—just the feeling of his hand in yours, steady and sure, a promise that you would face whatever came next together.

And as the storm began to pass, you knew that, for the first time, everything was exactly as it should be.

; tags ;

@intartaruginha @hannamoon143

[gothamite-rambler]

Lex pt 2

Lex (in the middle of a long, boring story): I had Superman on the ropes. I could've killed him, but then freaking Batman ruined things!

Bruce (staring into his coffee cup): Tragic loss.

Lex: Right! I almost had him and then that jerk stepped in, but wait let me go back to what led up to that. You know, before Batman stepped in.

Bruce: Mm-hm.

Bruce stayed focused on his black coffee as Lex continued to drone on about this past incident, which Bruce didn’t believe, mainly because he was there as Batman. Lex didn’t almost kill Superman; he had kryptonite that Batman was able to swipe away quickly. Currently, though, he wasn’t Batman. He was Bruce Wayne, lost in his own thoughts.

Bruce (in his head): I'm so tired... I only got an hour of sleep. Younger me could keep going on forty-five minutes, but now I can barely focus. Is Lex still talking, he repeated this story once already?

Lex (continuing to ramble): I hired a good lawyer, though, and those charges were dropped! Great, right?

Bruce: Fantastic. Want to discuss another story about yourself?

Lex smiled, feeling this was an appreciation of him, when in reality, Bruce would rather be anywhere else at the moment but was too checked out to leave.

Clark (calling from a distance): Bruce?

Clark visited Gotham to search for Bruce, needing his aid for a plan involving Lex, who was currently in the middle of scheme in Metropolis. He wasn’t expecting his buddy to be out for coffee. Lex, thankfully unaware of who Clark Kent really was, had no idea why the reporter from Metropolis was in the fancier part of town.

Lex: Bruce, there’s a crazy person calling for you!

Bruce glanced behind his shoulder, then returned to staring into the dark liquid.

Bruce: That’s a friend of mine.

Clark heard Bruce say that and smiled happily.

Lex: A poor guy is your friend? As a joke or something?

Clark, having overheard what Lex said next, changed his smile to a stoic expression. He wasn’t surprised that even in civilian clothes, Lex couldn’t resist being a jerk to the middle class or poor. Clark made it to the table where Lex eyed him suspiciously while Bruce wondered what the graining specks in his coffee were.

Clark Kent (stammering): Bruce… Wh-Why is that random guy with you at this place?

Lex Luthor (rude): Random? That’s rich coming from you. Oh wait, you’re not rich either; I can tell. To spare my friend the stress, I’ll order you kindly to leave.

Clark clenched his fists tightly, staying next to Bruce and preparing to pull him away.

Clark: I’m here to see my best buddy! I was visiting Gotham to... get lunch with him at a good restaurant, not this fake French cuisine with tiny food and expensive prices.

Lex smirked, resting his arms on the table.

Lex: That was a long-winded way of saying you’re poor and taking him to a gross fast food joint.

Clark: Well, Bruce would disagree. He likes cheap and simple foods, right Bruce?

Bruce hummed while taking a long sip from his coffee, the bitter taste refreshing on his tongue as he felt his mind become less weary. Bruce raised an index finger as he downed the entire fancy clear mug of his black coffee.

Lex (judgmental glare): He’s ignoring you. Take that as a hint.

Clark: No, he’s tired and needs a minute.

With a playful smack, Clark tapped Bruce on the back of the head as Bruce placed the empty glass back on the saucer.

Bruce: All right, that tasted bitter. Just how I like my coffee. Clark, when did you get here?

Lex (chuckling): Oh, ouch! He wasn’t even aware you were near him. That’s what you get for hitting him. Who do you think you are?

Clark: More important to him than you, isn’t that right, Bruce?

Bruce (shrugging): I mean, I’d rather be at work.

Lex (oblivious): Bruce, I get it. This nuisance is bothering you. I’ve seen him in Metropolis. He’s just a paperboy.

Clark (shocked): Paperboy?!

Bruce (correcting): He’s a reporter and journalist at the Daily Planet.

Clark: That’s right!

Lex (laughing): A reporter? That’s hilarious. The fact that he thinks he’s friends with you is even funnier. I thought you bottom feeders were supposed to be good at research and noticing the obvious.

Bruce eyed Clark warily but remained silent since this wasn’t his villain.

Lex: Bruce, pal, what did you tell him? I need to know so I can use it on another poor person.

Bruce: We’re actually friends; there’s nothing deceitful about it.

Clark: Aww, thanks Bruce.

Lex scoffed, remaining doubtful about this, which only made Clark angrier.

Clark (tight smile): The crazy thing is, I recognize you. Lexie, was it? Insane billionaire, arrested numerous times but always walks away because of your money… Superman has beaten you to a pulp how many times? Lost count. Bruce, you know how many times he lost?

Bruce (dryly): I stopped counting after fifty.

Lex (clenching his jaw): Okay, my name is Lex. Lex Luthor, and the charges were dropped.

Clark (sarcastic): Yeah, daddy’s money does that for you.

Bruce cleared his throat, visibly annoyed.

Clark (stumbling over his words): Not—Not you, buddy. You haven’t committed serious crimes and then walked away because you threw money at the problem.

Lex: Okay, but he’s bailed his son out of jail a lot. Sorry, Bruce, just needed to prove a point.

Bruce shrugged, getting up to get another cup of coffee. Clark and Lex waited for a few seconds, silently judging the other man.

Clark (speaking first): I have to admit, though, Lex, you look less crazed and disheveled than you did in that mugshot where you got arrested for punching a yacht captain. Impressive, did you make sure to buy out the shirts they're selling of your mugshot on the front?

Lex: He told me he’d kick me off the ship when I did nothing wrong! And yes, I'm fighting for a copyright on the shirts! That's my money!

Bruce sat back down at the table with a new cup of coffee and took another sip.

Bruce: I’m going to take this with me.

Bruce poured the rest of the contents into a travel mug he brought with him, causing Lex to look on in shock.

Lex: He got that from you, Cline? Only poor people take leftover coffee with them!

Clark (gritted teeth): My name is Clark.

Lex (smirking): Paperboy, don’t you have a sensationalist, false story to write?

Clark: Hey, we fact-check all our sources! That was only in the '60s!

Bruce stared at his carrot cake, pondering if he should’ve gotten a different flavor.

Bruce: I should’ve gotten the strawberry cake. This is too dry.

Lex (glaring at Clark): I’m not sure what he told you, poor man, but he probably just said that you were friends to be nice. So I’m going to say this one last time: leave.

Clark clenched his fists, anger bubbling beneath the surface. Bruce sighed, standing up with his travel mug.

Bruce: Clark clearly needs me for something urgent, Alexander. My apologies, but I have to talk to him before he says or does something he regrets.

Clark gulped, holding his head down.

Bruce: We can meet up in three weeks.

Lex shrugged.

Lex: Works for me; we can discuss that merger you were interested in.

Bruce (shaking his head): I wasn’t, but put that in the back of your mind for next time. Clark, go the other way.

Clark (smugly): I will. Have the day you deserve, Alexander.

Lex: You call me Lex!

Clark walked off, smiling. Bruce raised his coffee as a sign of goodbye to Lex and followed behind Clark. Lex crossed his arms, perplexed at one thing and assuming the two were out of earshot.

Lex: Bruce is a strange man, but is he friends with that guy because he’s lonely? Geez, I have to find some middle-class people he can be around.

Clark groaned, unfortunately overhearing what Lex said.

Bruce: He’s talking about us?

Clark: Yes... I hate that guy. When were you going to tell me you were talking to that asshole? Is this like Arthur? What does he have that I don’t?

Bruce: Oh my God, for the last time, Arthur and I are friends. Get over it. With Lex, we got stuck in an elevator during a business trip. He kept rambling about the dumbest shit and blaming everyone for his crimes, but he assumed me barely responding meant I wanted to be his friend. He hasn't left me alone since.

Clark (nodding): That sounds about Lex.

Bruce chuckled, agreeing.

Bruce: Yep, today he caught me when I was tired and offered to buy me coffee. I couldn’t say no; it’s free coffee.

Clark (gently patting Bruce on the back): Also fair. Freaking Lex, trying to steal my best buddy.

Bruce: I can’t believe I’m in the middle of this. What did you actually visit for?

Clark (serious): Well, bad news... Lex is after Batman this time, and I thought you should know.

Bruce (concerned): How did you find this out?

Clark: A reporter has his ways of finding out because I'm a credible one. Not one that spreads false news!

Bruce: We are not even near him anymore; calm down. We can discuss the rest of this at the manor.

Clark: Perfect.

Clark placed his arm on Bruce’s shoulder, but the man sidestepped away, not in the mood.

pt 1

[castielsparkle]

hey guys im sorry to e-beg so much but i unfortunately have had no money for awhile and i can't go any longer without asking for financial help bc i have payments due and i need basic necessities that i haven't been able to buy in a while.

i was working two jobs, now have neither bc of health complications (physical and mental) as well as the second job just becoming money for transport to the first job bc i can't drive. i was walking to the second job but the first was only accessible by car. on top of this, i was experiencing mental strain while working the second job, as it was across from a building i'd previously had to leave for my own wellbeing because i was being harassed by one manager and assaulted extensively by another. the second job also had an hour walk commute each way on foot, which was very taxing as i have chronic pain. i have been out of my medications for about a week now as well, and i spent the last money i had, which was thankfully given to me by some lovely friends, on food for my cats, and a ride home from being with a loved one in the er. my meds help treat a variety of mental illnesses i struggle with, as well as physical pain, and i am also out of hrt supplies. i also have been having troubles w accessing my own money bc of it being withheld by companies i am still trying to sort out rn. (for example i just got done dealing w/ an issue selling a concert ticket i'd bought a year ago in advance, unfortunately through circumstances that had nothing to do w/ the company, me, the customer, or the mail service i used, the tickets had trouble in the mail. due to this i was not able to make the ~300 dollars i sold the ticket for [retail price 400+ when i bought it over a yr ago] but also i was penalized the charge of a replacement ticket incorrectly and didn't receive back the 220+ usd they took for that for weeks. i'm having similar unfortunate issues happening w/ other places still and have no clue when, or if, i will get my money back at all)

i am open for commissions of all sorts + design customs + i have adopts if anyone is interested. please message me/mention on this post if you'd like commission work. these are open whenever unless specified otherwise - however, the payments i have to make are due within about a day (as of 11/11/2024) so i am really scrambling right now.

i'm so sorry again to ask. i don't want anyone going broke trying to help me of course tho, i am not entitled to anything and please only send anything if you can without worry. also even just interacting means the world, tysm 💙🫂 hope you all are well

ca/vm: luvrwulf

pp: darklydreaaming

('dreaaming' with two a's)

[whateverisbeautiful]

I feel like Rick went through the most physically in TOWL and TWD. While Michonne went through the most mentally. So many people would say Maggie is the strongest female character, but I firmly believe it's Michonne. Michonne lost 2 sons, killed a bunch of kids, saved Judith, lost her female best friend, lost her boyfriend, then her soul mate, and still have the courage to rebuild civilization and have another baby. Maggie doesn't have half of what Michonne has been through. So my question is, who do u think is stronger and what makes the other stand out more.

Hi @theoneswholive32 ! It was definitely interesting to watch the ways in which Michonne and Rick's internal and external hardships paralleled each other in TOWL. And I wrote out the rest of my response to your question below: ⬇️ 💗

I do believe Michonne’s strength is unparalleled. And in choosing who stands out the most, I’m choosing Michonne every time. To be as multifaceted and well-rounded as she is, to be both one of the world’s toughest and one of the world’s tenderest, it makes her an incredibly admirable character who embodies that quote Deanna shared - “Someday this pain will be useful to you.”

Over the course of her journey, Michonne learned to turn her grief and pain into something productive and motivating rather than destructive and devastating all while still being in tune with her hurt and emotions rather than neglecting or supressing them. 

I think it’s hard to compare traumas, in that apocalyptic world especially, so I can't say I agree with the statement that Maggie hasn’t been through half as much tho.

I do agree that Michonne has been through so much and more than people tend to acknowledge. Just because one of her most painful experiences happened offscreen and before she joined the group doesn’t mean it should be dismissed. To experience losing a child at any age is absolutely tragic, and especially as a toddler when they are so defenseless and dependent on others to keep them alive. It makes sense that Michonne shut down the way she did after the horrors she endured. And the fact that she went on to grow the way she did, not by being a strong warrior robot but by reopening her heart and letting love and family in again is one of the greatest signs of her strength and character.

Maggie was put through the wringer too and one of the unique things about her losses is that the three closest people to her (husband, father, sister) didn’t just 💀 but were unalived by human hands. Two of which she had to watch lose their life painfully, slowly, and all just so their murderer could make a point. And that’s on top of the rest of her family being taken out by walkers on the farm. So, even with me being overall neutral on her character, I can’t deny that Maggie has been through a lot of hell and that she’s a strong woman.

I think one of the notable differences between Maggie and Michonne’s strengths is in how they address their issues. After Rick spared Negan, it made sense that Maggie would feel extremely hurt by that executive decision but rather than talk to Rick about it as family she concocted plans behind his back which had tragic ramifications. Whereas when Michonne has an issue with someone she’s been shown to go directly to the source and address things which is another sign of her maturity and strength. 

Now I do think when it comes to physical violence, Michonne is the woman they put through the most physical harm and that is upsetting for several reasons. There is certainly an aspect of it that feels racially charged, even if subconscious because take 9.14 for example, I genuinely can’t see them being comfortable having Maggie or Carol be beat with a pipe while 7 months pregnant the way Michonne was.

One of the millions of reasons I’m grateful to Danai for what she wrote in ep 4 of TOWL is that she actually gave Michonne the space to acknowledge what she’s been through and voice her hurt. And Michonne also got to have someone who cared to acknowledge her scars and hurt as well through Rick. That was important because all too often Black women are portrayed as having to carry so much on their own and just keep it pushing without anyone caring to see their pain or vulnerability.

And to add one more reason that I feel Michonne is exceptionally strong and a standout character is because when she found someone she could trust and be held by in Rick, she opened herself up to that too. It could have been so easy for someone as competent as her to stay the independent lone wolf but she found a partner who she can be her most human and vulnerable self with and that vulnerability shows a whole lot of strength.

So that's my little essay response. Thanks for asking! 😊

[ghostgirl-22]

Do you think patrick ever put on a queer/gay movie as a subtle way to get art out of his shell, like "yeah dude ive wanted to watch this movie for ages" and its okay its chill, look how hot they are, look how happy they are

"Is kissing boys different to kissing girls?"

Oh he definitely did… I’m sorry this is so long nonnie!!!

CW: 18+ NSFW | period typical internalized homophobia

—-

Patrick’s lying in Arts bed with his headphones on going through his catalogue of dvds trying to figure out what B movie they can watch and make fun of while they get high. The whole time Art is using his back as a writing surface to finish his math homework.

Patrick pulls his headphones off and drops them on the ground. “It’s Friday. Do you have to do that now?”

“It’s Friday night, we have the tournament Saturday and Sunday so when exactly?” Art says distractedly, erasing.

“On the bus like I do.” Patrick smiles and turns to look at him. Art pushes his shoulder back down. Patrick shrugs and focuses back on his dvds.

“Stay still.” Art demands.

“Forgive me if I’m just trying to get you to have a little fun in our last few months at Mark Reballato Tennis Academy.”

“You know I do actually plan to graduate, right?” Art says dryly.

“So you can go to Stanford?” Patrick says wrinkling his nose in irritation.

Art puts his notebook down on Patrick’s back. “You know Tashi’s gonna be there right?”

Patrick shrugs. “So, just two overtalented people wasting time…”

“Aww so you’re calling me talented?” Art teases.

“You are,” Patrick says. “When you don’t think too much, which Stanford should help you with. I’m sure they don’t over think anything there.”

“Whatever man,” Art sighs. If anything it’ll help my tennis. I think you’re just scared I might steal her away.”

“Not even a little bit, but speaking of her… do you remember how you let me put my tongue in your mouth?” Patrick smirks.

Art goes all quiet like he’s doing homework again but Patrick doesn’t hear the pencil scratching paper.

“You always bring it up like you think I want you or something.”

“You wanted something, I felt it,” Patrick says pushing himself up as Art grabs the notebook off him before it falls.

“Come on man, don’t be gross, that was for her.”

“How is that gross?” Patrick asks, mildly amused, mildly irritated.

“You know what I mean,” Art says. “‘m not gay.”

“You know there’s nothing wrong with it right? Not to mention I’ve seen you before…touched you before… and…I mean remember what we did after she left? Didn’t I make you feel better?”

“We don’t always have to talk about it.”

“We don’t never have to talk about it either.” Patrick counters.

Art takes a deep breath and rests his head against the wall trying to find a way to change the subject. “Dude, if you’re gay just let me have another shot with her.” Is what he comes up with, dumb pretty smirk on his lips.

Patrick rolls his eyes. “Yeah whatever, fine I’m gay…actually that reminds me of this movie you can gayly watch with your gay best friend.”

“I’m just joking. You don’t have to—“

“Well I’m not joking, come on, put this away, loser,” Patrick grabs his notebook and stuffs the papers inside.

“Okay Jesus, Patrick don’t wrinkle it all up.”

“I’m not, chill out. Get the smoke detector.”

Art sighs and climbs off the bed. He steps on Patrick’s bed and reaches up to disconnect the detector from its place on the ceiling. He puts it in the bathroom. Then he shoves a towel beneath the crack in the door.

All the while Patrick’s combing through his dvd case for one random movie he borrowed from Netflix at the start of the year and he’d forgotten to mail it back so they charged him. (That’s sadly how he ended up with a lot of his dvd collection.) He’d watched it once by himself because he thought the main guys were hot and he wanted to jerk off in peace without Art voicing confusion at the idea of him jerking it for a man.

But it had been surprisingly deep for one of those campy queer movies. And of course it was about a guy in love with his roommate which… even for Art’s ability to delude himself wouldn’t be subtle at all.

“What’s this?” Art asks.

“The movie we’re gonna watch. This guy is a male hooker but he ends up getting hired by this old guy who mostly just wants his company.”

Art frowns.

“Come on, relax. You can be straight and watch it. Movies don’t turn people gay and you’re not gay…so what’s the big deal?”

Art looks like he wants to argue but decides it’ll just be easier to surrender. Patrick rolls the joint while Art puts it in the dvd player.

It’s not all his fault. Art was raised with apple pie and Americana. He’s a J Crew catalogue wearing, red blooded New England boy. His family is pretty liberal but in the way that they support all of it as long as it remains out there faceless and unknown… far away from their life and their home. Art’s expected to play a sport, go to an ivy, marry a beautiful girl and likely start a career in politics if tennis doesnt pay off. So this idea that life could ever deviate from that makes him glitch out.

All the tension they have between them is so much easier to just bury. Like none of it matters. It’s not supposed to change the trajectory of his cookie cutter life anyway.

Art sits on his bed next to Patrick they’re both leaning against the wall Patricks feet dangling over the mattress, Art with his legs crossed. Patrick lights up the joint and hands it to him.

—-

They’re pretty baked halfway through and Arts fidgety. It’s at a scene where the main character is touching himself watching his roommate in the shower. “He’s hot right?” Patrick asks.

Art takes a breath. “Dude.”

“Yeah I know…you’re not gay.” Patrick smirks, but even in the dim glow of the tv he can see the way Art’s already starting to show in his boxers.

The third roommate catches the main character watching and wants to suck him off. Then while third roommate is sucking him he starts fantasizing about all three of them hooking up, kissing sloppy on the bed.

“Is this porn?” Art whispers. “Are we really watching gay porn?”

“No I wish… unfortunately they don’t show you that much but imagine if me and you and Tashi were roommates.You watching her shower… while I…”

Art makes a strangled noise and Patrick rubs his own cock, smiling to himself. Art’s just getting there but Patrick’s been hard for the last 30 minutes.

“Patrick,” Art whispers. He’s starting to touch himself over his boxers.

“Give me the joint,” Patrick says, softly. It’s their third one. “If you drop it on the bed again we’ll both be in trouble.”

Art hands it over and Patrick puts it out in the ashtray on the nightstand. He moves closer to Art reaching over to help him. Art leans back, letting Patrick take over. Patrick reaches into his boxers. “Mm Patrick… have you seen her naked?” Art asks.

“No,” Patrick whispers. “Just her underwear. But…I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

“I feel like I can still taste her lips.” He moans while Patrick plays with him. Patrick can’t help but ease his other hand into his own pants. “I wanna…ah… I wanna… see her all soaped up wet and…” Art continues.

“And…?” Patrick breathes.

“Fuck… can you… can we…do what we did after…”

Patrick smiles and nods even though Art likely can’t see him. He gets on his knees and Art scoots towards the edge of the bed. Patrick takes Art’s boxers down and starts sucking him off. touching himself the whole time.

“Mm fuck,” Art breathes.

He barely lasts 2 minutes before he’s filling Patrick’s mouth with so much jizz. Patrick swallows it down, while listening to Art moaning for him. All the hair on his arms standing up. He rests his head against Art’s thigh making quick work of himself, using part of the sheet to keep it from getting all over the floor.

Patrick settles where he is on the floor, breathless when he’s done. Looking up at the television like it was fucking nothing even though his heart is still racing.

Main character has moved so far away from the threesome fantasy. He’s now angsty and worried about his best friend who’s apparently being pursued by someone else. Some other more wholesome gay man. Patrick ponders rewinding but when he looks up at Art, he’s lying back on the bed, hand casually on the waistband of his boxers, tapping his bare feet on the floor just watching.

Patrick rubs Arts leg idly.

“Who’s this loser?” Art asks of the more wholesome gay man.

Patrick laughs. It’s exactly what he thought on his first watch through.

They end up watching the rest of the film. Again, it’s surprisingly more emotional than the premise (male hooker wants to fuck his roommates). Main character ends up learning to be more open about his feelings in his time chatting with the elder gay client. And the emotional part is hearing the elder gay man talk about what he went through to fall in love with his partner when it was much more taboo and unacceptable. And how even though they meet late in life they still lived such a full and happy life (if too short) before his partner passed. And main character’s roommate even gives him a chance and they go out on a date.

Art’s rubbing his eyes when it’s over.

Patrick gets back on the bed next to him. “That was nice right?”

Art’s clearly trying to hide his feelings so he just nods and when he feels okay to use his voice he says. “Seems kinda deep for you.”

“Well I can be deep,” Patrick smirks. He curls his fingers into Art’s hair. “I mean it’s cool right? They were happy.”

”I always wonder where they imagine movies like this to happen? San Francisco probably.” Art laughs, lightly. He looks away from Patrick and Patrick puts his hand back by his side.

“Well I think it could happen anywhere but good thing you're going to California soon.” Patrick says, just as light.

Art looks at him again and then looks at his lap. “I mean it wasn’t just her that made me feel…” he murmurs.

“Me too,” Patrick says.

“So I don’t know…I mean I’m not gay but…but maybe I’m something else…”

“I definitely am.”

Art sighs. “You make me something else.”

“Is that so bad?” Patrick asks.

Art rubs his hands on his thighs and then leans in and gives Patrick a kiss.

(Had to google if Netflix existed in 2006 😭😭 it did but they mailed dvds. Also I made Patrick lie. Movies definitely make you gay. Look what Challengers has done to me!!)

[n0cturn4]

Series In every universe - 14 . Jason Todd

Character: Jason Todd x Reader Summary: "Why do we fit so well together? Word Count: 764

Jason stood there before you, like a vision between the worlds of the living and the spirits, a presence both strong and ardent, filled with a stillness that yet overflowed with an unreachable love. His eyes, deep and tempestuous, were like the ocean, a vastness containing countless stories, countless sorrows, and yet, his gaze upon you was that of someone who had found shelter. Around him, the air seemed charged with an electric tension, as though the very space between you pulsed with a life of its own, intangible and full of longing. The moonlight fell softly upon his face, casting shadows that danced like fleeting memories, and you wondered, for a moment, if he, too, felt this strange, eternal divide that held you both apart.

“Tell me,” he murmured, his voice grave and reverent, like one offering a prayer to the sacred, “why do we fit so well, as if we are two halves of the same whole?”

Your eyes met his with a sad sweetness, and there was a calm in your answer that seemed to embrace all the intensity he carried within, as if you were the gentle morning that soothes a restless night. The air around you seemed to still in that moment, as if the earth itself paused, giving you space to speak, to answer. "Because you are the fire," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper, like someone offering their heart with every word, "and I am the breeze that loves to warm you, that loves to give you room to burn."

The soft rustle of distant trees and the faintest stir of wind were the only sounds that accompanied your words. The world around you seemed to hold its breath, the night embracing your quiet confession with an aching silence, as though even nature could not bear to interrupt the fragile peace between you.

Jason gave a faint smile, but there was something dark in his expression, a sorrow that the years and battles had etched deeply within him. He was like a fierce flame that consumed the silence, and you were the peace that welcomed that fire with boundless devotion, a quietude that understood his fervor without ever extinguishing it. The moonlight reflected in his eyes, making them seem almost too bright, too full of unspoken stories. You could feel his gaze pulling at you, like the tides pulling at the shore, as though he, too, had once wished to cross this invisible boundary that separated you both.

He drew closer to you, his gaze penetrating, as if his very feelings might shatter the invisible barrier that separated you both. And yet, his hand remained suspended in the emptiness, unable to reach yours. It was a gesture steeped in a love so intense it ached within your soul; the desire to touch him was a flame that burned brightly, though it could never be fulfilled, existing there with a strength that words could never capture. His outstretched fingers trembled slightly, and you wondered if he, too, could feel the pull of the impossible.

The world seemed to grow still around you, the distant cries of unseen creatures falling silent as though the very forest itself understood the gravity of this moment. The cool air wrapped around you both, carrying with it a sense of timelessness, a sense that, for once, the world outside of your bond had ceased to exist.

"Let me tell you," you whispered, while he gazed at you with a look that held the weight of all things unattainable, "that no matter how many silences I face, yours is the only one I wish to fill, again and again." Your words felt like a thread, spun from the very air around you, connecting you to him in a way that no physical touch could.

A solemn silence enveloped you both, and within that stillness, you and Jason remained side by side, two souls cleaved from the same feeling, a melancholic, eternal love that could never be touched. The stars above flickered like distant flames, tiny lights in the vast, dark expanse. You both stood there, gazing at each other, knowing that this love was too pure, too distant, to ever reach its full potential in the physical world. It was an invisible bond, woven from words and glances, from unspoken promises that filled the void, though they could never truly bridge the distance between you. And so you remained, suspended in time, existing in a world where all you could offer was the hope that, perhaps, in another life, your souls would finally meet without the distance between you.

[somewhere-at-the-burrow]

i would LOVE to hear you talk about music in your dr, music, art, writing/poetry, etc, is one of THE main reasons i'm shifting, and i never see anyone talk about it

I also never see anyone talking about this, and it is such a big part of shifting that I have grown to love so much :,) music and media really holds us together, no matter where we are! here is my best explanation of the music in my weasley reality!

𝒲izarding ℳusic !

TO START, I have noticed that the music and the bands that are popular have a lot of scattered influence from many eras and genres. it is still popular to hear songs on the WWN with lots of classic jazz influence, and then the next song will be a witchy synth anthem inspired by muggle technology and the pop culture of the 80s--- THE RANGE IS CRAZY!

for example: in my Weasley reality, Celestina Warbeck is arguably the most popular and well listened to musician of the century, and she really paved the way for wizarding artists changing their styles and taking influence from muggle music. she had many different eras, ranging from jazz to pop to surprisingly.. witchy rock!

even in her old age (I think she is around 80 years old?), she has still released singles that push different styles and experiment with the ever changing world of music. although, some people really dislike her music simply because it is played so much.

(I remember once I was talking to my mom about her when we saw a live Celestina rendition at the Harry Potter theme park, and my mom said she sounded like the wizarding world version of Taylor Swift. IT IS SO TRUE THOUGH, because she even has a dedicated fanbase that call themselves the Banshees. crazy!)

Another very cool thing about music in the wizarding world is charmed music.

as in this reality, music has evident "energy" that can make you feel a whole range of emotions... but for musicians with magic, that can take on a whole different meaning! it is almost like subliminal messaging, but songs can be "enchanted" with spells through lyrics or have sounds and choruses that are intended to put you in a trance.

this is really common with wizarding party music! I mentioned it in another post, but one of my all time favorite songs is "Man of Midnight" by Celestina Warbeck... the song is known for being bewitching, even if it does not sound fully like a "party song". I have no idea how to describe it, but when I listen to the song I feel like the most powerful person alive? I always tell Fred that it is a siren song.. and that is honestly the closest I can describe it. He just says it makes him alive with motivation and that is why we listen to it at least once when we do work together !

Another form of charmed music is sports chants. a common theme with these chants is their appearance throughout wizarding history, often carrying ancient and intense emotion within their words.

I have only experienced this one time, and it was at the League Cup (Kestrels V Harpies). When the Kestrels were ahead, one of the Irish bands that played in the fairgrounds started singing an old Irish song that originated from the game of Aingingein. even though the game is not played anymore, everyone knows the song. it is almost like a representation of Irish pride?

so when the whole charged up crowd started chanting, it felt like there was ancient and intense game spirit coursing through the stadium. I wasn't even rooting for the Kestrels, but damn I felt like standing on my seat and declaring that I would die for Ireland or something 😭 i've never in my ENTIRE life felt so spiritual about the opposing team, and within a minute of the stadium chanting!

Something else I find very very cool about wizarding music in my desired reality is how music is distributed.

they regularly use common things like vinyls and the radio, and magical concerts happen very often.. but something I didn't expect were lyrical signatures.

these are a weird invention. as the name suggests, these musical souvenirs are similar to a signature of pages in a book... however, they are also very similar to singing birthday cards.

many wizarding bands will sell these mini booklets that showcase a song (or songs) on their pages, and when you open the booklet or flip to a certain page, the song will play. it is seriously the most genius thing ever!

many of these booklets are formatted like a CD, with the album cover being on the front, the first page talking about the album and the band accomplishments of the year, and the next pages each showcasing songs from the collection. it is also very common to have the lyrics on the left side, with song information and sometimes a themed image on the right side.

I had NO idea these would be so popular in my DR. they are given as gifts, mailed to relatives and friends who may not have access to them around the world, and even collected! it is seriously like the wizarding CD. Bill has this epic collection of signatures that he has alphabetized and organized by genre, and he even had a custom box with slots to store them. he's the coolest brother!!

this form of music is so fun.. you can just open up to the song you like and place it open on table, or you can charm it to flip from beginning to end to enjoy the whole album. definitely the most unexpected yet coolest thing that I have discovered while shifting!!

i'll probably make a pt. 2 of my favorite magical bands and musicians, as I have so much I could say and I think they deserve their own section! thank you if you have read this far, and I really appreciate how kind you all were in my absence :,)

good luck shifting everyone!!

[novankenn]

Jaune Arc of Orleans

An Uncomfortable Journey

Seriously?" Jaune whined as he held a device of pure malice and dread in his hands. It was an amalgamation of plastics, metal and circuitry.

"Listen kid." the stubbly, grimy and partially drunk man accompanying him spoke. "You wanted to go to Beacon..."

"I NEED to go to Beacon!" Jaune snapped at Qrow. "I NEED to!"

"Okay, okay, take it down a notch." Qrow lifted his hands in a pacifying motion. "YOU need to be at Beacon and the only way your scary as fuck mom would let that happen is if ONE I escort you there myself. TWO I swear on my life that you will remain physically safe and unharmed."

Qrow took a swig from his flask before continuing.

"THREE that I guarantee that as she put it, some loose legged hussy didn't get her hands on you..." Qrow grumbled, "and FOUR that I make sure when we are not in our private quarters that you wear a chastity belt to preserve your virtue for your future wife."

"This is stupid!" Jaune shouted as he threw the abomination ineffectually against the wall of their cabin. "Girls don't..."

"Exactly. Girls don't, and to be honest most guys don't either... you however are... special."

"Yeah special." Jaune grumbled as he dropped his ass onto the second of the two narrow beds that lined the walls of the private cabin. "So special that I'm being auctioned off to the highest bidder as a husband."

"Jaune I'm sorry that you're in this situation. I am." Qrow offered, "But you are not so stupid to not understand what is going on. You're a male from a reputable and distinguished family."

"I know, and of course that fact that Orleans is not only sitting on massive light dust deposit as well as the largest and most accessible Mutable Dust deposit on Remnant."

"Yeah, both of which your family has controlling interest in."

"But not the capital resources to engage in efficient and full scale mining operations."

"I knew you were smart kid."

"Doesn't change anything." Jaune snapped.

"Didn't say it did." Qrow replied. "Now if you don't have anything else but complaints I suggest we both take this chance and have a nap."

"And if I don't feel like it and want to explore?"

"Put on the belt, and have at it." Qrow had to suppress a chuckle at the sudden downtrodden look that crossed the young man's boyish features. "You know I'll unlock it as soon as you get back."

"I still hate it." Jaune grumbled.

"Then have a nap, or read something on your scroll. Play a game, or pray." Qrow suggested, "Just DO NOT leave this room without that belt on, or your mom will skin and tan both our asses. Understood?"

"Yeah, yeah." Jaune muttered as he climbed fully on to his bunk and rolled over his back facing Qrow who was lounging on his own bunk. Qrow remained flat on his back, his head tilted just enough that he could keep an eye on his travelling companion.

Qrow understood Jaune's frustrations. But there wasn't much that he could do to ease them. That damnable plague had forever changed the ratio of male to female... in the favor of females. Which did provide some plentiful opportunities for the more adventurous men of the world. But for those males born into more affluent or traditionalist leaning families, it was a suffocating weight upon their shoulders.

Being male was almost a curse. Your options for employment, schooling, recreation were severely limited by politicians, doctors and officials intent on keeping what remained of the those human and faunus that bore the XY chromosomes.

Qrow was an outlier. HIs skills, temperament and semblance making him much more suited for a role that for the last century and a half was a female dominated occupation. Yet as he watched his young charge, slowly succumb to sleep, Qrow thought that Jaune could be an outlier like himself. That thought caused the often drunken man to sigh, and silently hope that he was mistaken.

==> Table of Contents <==

Mutable Dust = A rare gray coloured dust that when mixed with other dusts takes on the properties of said dust. The ration is 30/70, so if 6 kilos of pure fire dust is cut with 2 kilos of mutable dust you in fact now have the equivalent of 8 kilos of pure fire dust.

[plum-pitt]

X-Men Origins Rewrite

Ok I guess this is a follow up to this post i made not too long ago abt rewriting this shit, the brainworms rlly got to me here so you’re getting a follow up sooner than expected lol

Before I actually do any rewriting though I wanted to lay out the big changes I’d be making and why, mainly for myself as a guide and to organize my thoughts both about the original film’s issues and how these changes could potentially solve them, but also to allow anyone else with some ideas for possible changes to add their own thoughts or suggestions by engaging with the post.

As for what kind of final product you could possibly expect these ideas to result in, i haven’t quite decided if I want to just do an in depth outline for the story with my proposed changes or do like a full length fic novelization. It’ll probably depend on how motivated I still feel about the exercise by the time I’m finished and happy with the cleaned up outline, but I digress. Lets just go ahead and get into the changes I want to make:

Proposed Changes:

First off, I’m removing Blob and Gambit from this cut. I like both of the characters and think it’s cool they tried to include them but the cast is crammed enough as it is and those two serve very little narrative purpose that can’t be shifted to others just as easily.

Second, I’m adding Silverfox to Team X and letting that serve as the meeting point for her and Logan, it gives the audience more time to get to know her and come to care for her and Logan’s relationship, while also harkening back to the comics where she was also a part of the weapon x program. Also I know this isn’t a real film but let it be known that if it were i’d actually hire a Native American actress to portray her, i’m still shitty they whitewashed her.

Third, I’m removing the third act “Silverfox wasn’t really dead” twist. I really shouldn’t have to explain why, that shit was dumb and completely unnecessary, not to mention introducing a shit ton of plot holes with that whack ass mutant ability they pull from thin air. In my version she’s human(as far as we know) and when she dies she dies for real, full stop.

Fourth, we are GETTING a biblically accurate Deadpool. They did my bro dirty and I refuse to compromise on this. His role will be larger to compensate for his big ass personality and the fact that i’m affectively letting him take up Gambit’s role from the original in addition to what he already had. Also I just think he bounces off of Logan really well and could serve as a really interesting parallel with having such similar trauma and very different ways of responding to it and seeing the world. Like just imagine D&W if they accidentally traumabonded over their similar origin stories.

Fifth, I’m making Victor our stand in for the films Weapon XI! He doesnt get adamantium or new powers like Wade, only the dehumanizing psychological torture present in the original Weapon X comic. I think it works great for his spiraling arc, gives me a chance to squeeze a faithful weapon X adaptation in here without upending the entire film’s structure, and helps to better position his character on a trajectory towards his more feral appearance in X1 where he doesn’t seem to fully recognize Logan.

Sixth, I’d like to include Dr. Cornelius as the head scientist in Weapon X. My current concept is that he’s in charge of all the unethical mutant capturing and experimenting, working under Stryker’s supervision but still an outsider to the government, being sent in by Stryker’s most significant source of funding for his program in Nathaniel Essex. I know this has zero basis in canon I just think it sounds cool and makes sense for Sinister to have hands in a program aiming to create perfect mutant soldiers, as someone using mutants DNA to create a genetically perfect race of superhumans and become the ultimate life form. (Sinister would not play a large role, more of a looming presence pulling strings and fucking people over)

To get more overarching here, I wanted to hone in on the dynamics and themes present in the original that i thought had the most potential for further development. Victor’s spiral to madness and eventual complete loss of self under Stryker, Logan learning to let go of Victor’s influence and the violence that he let define his life only for both to drag him back after Silverfox’s demise. Really digging into that nature vs nurture shit, and adding more mutant politics (and their accompanying metaphors for the struggles of marginalized people) cuz honestly i feel like it’s absence in the original is very noticeable, and ties in really well with Logan’s arc of self acceptance and learning to see himself as more than the violent nature of his mutation.

Stuff I Still Want Changed:

Ok so here’s where I’m throwing my hat out for suggestions, because there are still a couple minor things present in the movie that i’m just not a fan of or don’t really know what to do with. The difference is, with these I can’t really think of tweaks that could fix/improve them. So if yall have any ideas on what I can do about these, or maybe some completely unrelated changes that you just think could improve the rewrite, please let me know.

One, not really sure what to do with Zero, he’s around for a lot of the movie but didn’t really stand out much to me. I just don’t know a lot about the character or what his deal is in the comics to find something cool to do with him. I’m going back and forth on if his role is ultimately necessary?? Does Stryker really need another henchman? Or should I use the space he occupies to hone in more on Victor and Logan’s rivalry? Idk i’m still on the fence so tell me what yall think.

Two, god I just fucking hate those memory wiping adamantium bullets. It’s such a stupid plot device that makes no sense conceptually and was clearly just thrown in as an afterthought at the last second like the writers forgot they needed to erase his memory by the end. That’s not to mention the fact that the bullets’ function was retconned later in Logan. Genuinely though I cannot find another way to go about fucking up Logan’s head without basically upending the structure of this movie in its entirety so any ideas on how to solve this dilemma are appreciated.

[gotta-winwin]

2019 debut year <> what is his problem?

word count: 2.1k TW: a bucket of snark, cold wonwoo, mentions of bullying, swearing italics are in english, bolded words are in mandarin

౨ৎ ─── ─── ──౨ৎ─── ─── ──౨ৎ─── ─── ──౨ৎ

"Mingyu!" Cyana yelled from across the living room, her leg propped up as she sat icing her swollen ankle.

The boy in question slid into view, stumbling a little for balance as he grappled with the slippery wooden floors. "Yes, princess?"

Cyana made a little face at the nickname. "Can you charge my phone for me please? I left it in the kitchen and I can't stand up." She pouted at the mention of her rolled ankle. "And I thought I told you not to call me that."

Mingyu let out a deep sigh. "It's fitting though, don't you think? You are seventeen's princess." He poked her ankle gently. "Look at me, waiting on you hand and foot."

She sent him a glare. "You're the reason I'm like this." She let her upper half crumple dramatically onto the couch.

Mingyu had came rushing into practice this afternoon, colliding into an unaware Cyana, who had just been trying to leave the room for water. Everyone had chalked it up to the fact that Mingyu only ever looked parallel to his height, and could not see Cyana below him.

"I've already apologized." He whined, leaving to grab her phone. "You're even sleeping over so I can take care of you. Seungcheol said it was my punishment. You know only special people can ever enter the Minwon residence."

She scoffed. She noticed she was unnaturally riled up today, annoyed by the pain and inconvenience of not being able to walk. "Special, my ass."

"Hey." Mingyu stared at her from the doorway, having been on his way to grab a charger for her phone. He sent her a frown. "I understood that."

Cyana stuck out her tongue in retaliation, smiling to herself when it got a loud laugh from Mingyu. She watched him walk out of view, probably to his room to grab his charger.

They really had started to feel a little like family, Cyana realized as she sat there, with nothing to do but to ponder. She wouldn't have ever expected to be enjoying small moments like this, despite her ankle still throbbing. She also wouldn't have ever thought this job would be anymore than purely working. She never imagined she'd make friends, let alone call 13 boys her family. Well, 11 boys, she correctly ruefully. Woozi had been refusing to speak to her since the Hug BPM incident, although Cyana noticed he had changed it to be 138. Wonwoo was another one who seemed to be doing everything under the sun to avoid her, despite them literally being under the same roof right now. He had helped Mingyu move her from the car to their couch, gave her a look over and retreated to his room.

She let out a huff. She'd been here for nearly two months now, and comeback season would begin in less than two weeks. Wonwoo or Woozi (preferably both) would have to get their shit together sooner or later, before fans began to notice and shit started getting stirred.

Mingyu knocked twice on Wonwoo's door before entering. The last time he had walked in unannounced, a controller had been sent flying his way.

"Wonwoo hyung~" He called, reaching over to move Wonwoo's headset slightly off his ear. "Can I borrow your charger?"

Wonwoo frowned, blinking at Mingyu, his eyes adjusting from the bright screen back to reality. "Why?" Mingyu's phone wasn't adaptable to his charger head.

Mingyu waved the lilac phone in his hand. "Cyana's phone."

"She's got you charging her phone for her now?" Wonwoo muttered, getting up to grab it from the floor next to his bed. "Puppy."

"Hey!" Mingyu protested indignantly. "Her ankle's injured. I'm just helping. Like you should be doing."

Wonwoo frowned. "Why would I?"

"She's family."

Wonwoo scoffed. "She's not family. Family is the people who were there with us in that fucking lime green room."

Mingyu cut his eyes at the older boy, disappointed. "Cyana's a good person. You'd know if you'd just give her a chance."

"She's a ticking time bomb, Gyu. You need to realize that." Wonwoo's shoulders sagged as he sighed, handing over his charger. "She's going to blow up our comeback either way."

"You've been talking too much with Woozi hyung." Mingyu decided. "One skeptic's enough in this group."

"She's got 11 cheerleaders and knights-in-waiting already." Wonwoo quickly countered, sitting back down and putting his headphones back on, clicking open a new game. "I just don't think we'd get along."

Mingyu rolled his eyes. "She's literally you, Wonwoo. Down the a T." He groaned when the older boy gave no reaction, the headphones blocking his words. "Aish-" He slapped the back of Wonwoo's head gently. "Idiot."

Returning back to the living room, he plugged the charger in the outlet next to Cyana and handed her her phone. "You better thank Wonwoo later, it's his charger."

Cyana groaned. "Why~ Couldn't you have just grabbed yours?"

"My charger doesn't fit your phone, nana." Mingyu frowned. "Did something happen between you and Wonwoo hyung or what?"

"What do you mean?"

Mingyu took a seat next to her, hands reaching over to bring her injured foot into his lap, massaging her ankle. "Just mean that there has to be a reason you hate each other, that's all."

"I don't hate him, Gyu." Cyana sighed. "I just don't like being where I'm clearly not wanted."

"I'll talk to him."

Cyana shook her head. "No, no. Don't make it worse. It's okay, Gyu." She patted his arm. "Wonwoo not liking me isn't going to destroy me. As long as he hides it well during recordings, we're fine."

"He's my best friend though~" Mingyu whined. "I want my two best friends to get along well."

Cyana let out a shaky laugh, hit by a sudden jolt of pain when Mingyu pressed on a particular spot. "Sadly we don't always get what we want." She squeezed his shoulder. "Really, though. It's okay. I still have more friends than I ever had before."

He frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She shrugged. "I didn't really have friends growing up, is all. I was busy."

Mingyu looked at her sadly. "That's not good. Childhood friends are the best. You didn't make any at school?"

Cyana thought for a little bit, reaching over to move Mingyu's fingers to a certain spot where she felt like the pain was the most. "I had some friends in Vancouver, but once we moved to LA, everyone kind of already had friends. So it was awkward to join them."

"Oh." Mingyu couldn't wrap his head around the idea that Cyana didn't have friends in LA. She was so comforting and funny and pretty and good.

"They were all mean anyways." Cyana shrugged off the heaviness that the memories had brought her. "Not very friend-material."

Mingyu nodded. "I guess." He was still sad though, imagining lonely baby Cyana in the middle of a busy and large LA.

Sensing his sadness for her, Cyana offered him a bright smile. "I have you now. And Shua. And Kyeomie, and Boo, and Chan, and Vernon." She began counting them with her fingers, earning a smile from Mingyu. "And Hannie, and Hoshi, and Jun, and Haohao, and Seungcheol." She paused. "Well, kind of Seungcheol. I don't know if we're there yet." Looking up at Mingyu, she smiled. "But still! That's a lot of friends."

"I'm glad." Mingyu could only say, although his eyes said a whole lot more. I'm glad you have us. I'm glad you see us as your friends. I'm glad you're our friend. My friend. Cyana's grateful smile told him she understood.

The next morning, Cyana woke up in a stranger's bed. She sat up, frowning when she didn't recognize the bedroom she was in. Mingyu's bedroom did not have pretty LED lights coming from the ceiling, and last time she checked, he didn't own a gaming station.

"Get up."

Her eyes widened at the sound of Wonwoo's voice. She turned her head to look at him, leaning on the doorframe of the connected bathroom.

"What?" She mumbled, still deciding whether or not it was all a dream. It had to be, for on what planet would she wake up in Wonwoo's bed?

"I said get up." Wonwoo sighed, pushing himself off the doorframe to grab his coat from the foot of the bed. Sensing her confusion, he bit back a tiny smile. "You and Mingyu both fell asleep on the couch last night. I brought Mingyu back to his bed but found you couldn't fit comfortably next to him so I brought you here." He threw his coat on, grabbing his keys and phone as well. "I slept outside on the couch, don't worry."

Cyana's face flushed. It didn't go past her that this was the most words Wonwoo had ever spoken to her. "Sorry." She moved to get up. A large hand stopped her, grabbing her shoulder.

"Sorry." Wonwoo mumbled, releasing her. "Your ankle."

"Oh." Her face flushed again. "I think it should be fine. Mingyu's pretty good at physical therapy."

Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, Cyana stood up, gingerly placing weight on her bad ankle. Wonwoo stood a couple steps away from her, ready if something were to go wrong.

"It's fine." Cyana gave him a tentative smile. "Thanks. You could've just left me on the couch." She had definitely expected him to.

"Maybe I should've." Wonwoo muttered. "Hip Hop unit's got practice early today. Breakfast's on the table. Don't call. Don't burn the house down. And don't touch my things." He left the room without another word. Cyana heard Mingyu's voice from the distance and could hear the front door shutting behind them.

She blinked, frozen. She didn't know whether to cry or celebrate that Wonwoo had finally acknowledged her presence. His actions and words confused her greatly. It was i put you in my bed and slept outside so you can sleep well and then shout loudly to wake you up followed by a got you breakfast ending with a i don't trust you in my house.

She sighed, shaking her head. Boys.

Although her stomach grumbled, she opted to skip breakfast. Her stylists had complained that she wasn't fitting the skirt they'd made for their stage performances, despite it being not her size at all. She supposed it meant she still had a long way to go before she would look good onstage next to the members.

Looking around the room, she was able to properly see Wonwoo's place for the first time. It was clean, she expected nothing less from him. Everything about him screamed clean.

The computer hummed with life despite it being off and it was surrounded by photographs and equipment. She smiled when she spotted a photograph of what looked to be young seventeen, huddled together in the midst of their trainee years. There was also a few photos of a dog, who she assumed was Wonwoo's back home. There were books as well, overfilling the shelves that lined the far wall. That was something Cyana could relate to, although these titles were all in Korean instead of English. She found that she missed having books to read. It was hard to find anything good in Korea that she could understand.

She could've spent eternity in Wonwoo's room just looking at things, trying to decipher a person she desperately wanted to know. Her phone rang however, startling her.

"Hello?" It was their manager.

"Oh. Manager oppa. What's going on?" Cyana frowned. The manager rarely called them, schedules and changes were usually relayed through text.

"We have a couple company higher-ups who want to see your improvement before the comeback, Soyeon-ssi. I'm sorry to spring it on you now, but they'll be at Pledis soon. Could you come over quickly?"

Her blood rang cold. "Oh, uh- yes. I'm at Mingyu's right now. I'll be there in 10 minutes."

"Great. No need to panic, Soyeon. They just want to know if you're ready."

That was the thing though. Cyana didn't think she was ready. Sure, she'd been practicing with the others, learning techniques she hadn't learnt in LA, but she still wasn't as polished as the others. She couldn't quite grasp the concept of levels and angles, although she tried her hardest knowing it was essential to Seventeen's famed synchronization.

Rushing out of Wonwoo's room, she threw on the first hoodie she found in Mingyu's room before rushing to leave, locking the door behind her. Waving down a taxi, she sent prayers to all the gods she did not believe in that she'd pass whatever test they were giving her. She wanted to debut. She needed to. She wasn't about to let herself be sent back to LA. Not when she had family here.

author's note: ahhh! thank you so much for reading! things are about to get intense (,,>﹏<,,)

[eldritch-spouse]

Belo my lovely silkie chicken I just wanna collect his fur and make a nice cozy sweater with it 💕

also I was going through your world building post and one thing I noticed is that Saiders are very heavy with punishments: humans who practiced magic without their say so, angels who had big disagreements, etc would all get severe punishments what would that look like?

[Belo sweater would be the most comfortable thing you've ever worn in a while and probably help when you're going through health/mood lows.]

Siadar are extremely heavy with punishment, regardless of who or what that punishment is targeted towards. They're harsh with angels, they're harsh with humanity, they're harsh with their own kind and they continue to be harsh elsewhere, to their newer projects.

The top of their hierarchy will find a million and one ways to justify the intensity of their punitive force, so it's not as if the siadar themselves see their actions as cruel. Neither do angels, as beings with very defined purposes instilled into them since birth (and no real biological or psychological reason to break them). In fact, humanity itself, devoid of any moral compass created by its own species, absorbed the moral compass of siadars for practically the entire duration there was interlevel contact. So many humans understood and accepted the punishments they saw happen or were subjected to as normal.

Now, humanity isn't very magically inclined by default. The species was designed to have less "magnetism" to that type or energy, to reject it, so the humans that are out there practicing it in that period of time are already deviants in some form or another. This means we're probably talking about a collection of "infractions" already committed by the humans in question. Death is a very likely outcome here. Or, at the very least, the removal of reproductive abilities, so that this particular human -If they happen to biologically be more attuned to magic than they should be- Cannot spread that ability to any descendants.

The sight of a particularly magically talented human is reason enough for siadar authorities to investigate other highers in charge of monitoring human populations, in the effort of judging whether or not a human was directly tampered with in forbidden ways.

Angels are a very organized species, to say the least. Out of most non-humans out there, these would be the individuals that are least likely to ever question their place in life, to ponder on concepts bigger than their routines and duties, or even seriously entertain intrusive thoughts. They're a lot more likely to report their own perceived defective symptoms to assigned siadars than they are to attempt to act on them. It's worth noting that angels also monitor each other, especially the ones of Worshipper rank, and will easily report suspicious behavior. They aren't malicious in this evaluation, but they're unwilling to cover up serious situations.

Big disagreements between angels, although rare (until the time Betrayer seeded doubt into the minds of some celestials), aren't very likely to escalate into angel-on-angel physical violence. In spite of any bubbling emotion, they're still practically hardwired to respect rank differences and have internalized that harming another angel is harming their kind altogether. These disagreements can entirely halt the productivity of many tasks if the celestials involved have equal standing in terms of authority. In these instances, both will eventually request the opinion of the nearest unoccupied siadar.

Angels are a self-punitive species as well. They'll perceive their failures -Even if not directly their fault- as punishment worthy and will inflict wounds on themselves or deprive themselves of participation on anything until they are "forgiven" by their highers. Celestials can and will die simply from feeling that they are consistently failing, becoming lethargic and weak until they simply perish.

[cosmererambles]

So...People have been asking for my Kelsier Essay.

I'll publish it in several posts that are qued apart.

Kelsier Essay

This is not a formal, academic essay. It’s a loose one but I feel it drives home the point well enough and brings forth good evidence.

 I hope the dear reader will forgive my use of a proper noun as I write this essay; it removes somewhat of a formal aspect from its words but I must admit, it does come from a personal place of my heart. While this essay is meant to be persuasive, it’s also meant to be constructive and to drive a point home that I have been musing on for quite a while. This essay has major spoilers for the entirety of the Cosmere. If you haven’t read all of Mistborn, SH, and all of SL, please refrain from reading this.

In the endless expanses of the Cosmere, there are hundreds of characters whom many hold dear and just as many whom people hate. You could say this is due to the brilliance of the author, who, despite his busy schedules and near constant time spent behind a keyboard, finds time to sign sheets and answer questions. Why is signing sheets and answering questions relevant to beloved and reviled characters? Read on.

Brandon Sanderson answers hundreds of questions, many of which are inane, innocuous, or silly. Some are deeper, others delve into the basis behind some of his choices while writing. Still others pertain to characters. We get to the meat of it. This particular character is known, through the writing, as a brutal man, who let nothing stand in the way of his goal, who, while cleaving the noble class of his society in twain, uplifted the peasants and upended the thousand-year reign of his deity and ruler. Yes, we’re talking of Kelsier, the Survivor of Hathsin, hero of the Final Empire, and a character that leaves many people puzzled.

Reddit forums are frequented by questions about him. r/Mistborn and r/Cosmere alike have had their fair share of debates, and there was one thing I noticed in many of these: they take the words of Sanderson very, very seriously. Why shouldn’t they? He’s the author, is he not? Back in 2013, Sanderson had a Q&A session where someone asked him who his most disturbing character was. The WoB is as follows:

I_are_pant

1.Which of your protagonist characters do you dislike the most as a person? Taking in account that you know all of their inner secrets and motivations. 2. On the flip side, which of your antagonists do you connect with the most? The Lord Ruler seems an obvious choice as he was misunderstood by everyone for so long. But still, I’m curious.

Brandon Sanderson  This is a tough one, as while I’m writing, I HAVE to like everyone. However, the most disturbing of them is probably Kelsier. He’s a psychopath—meaning the actual, technical term. Lack of empathy, egotism, lack of fear. If his life had gone differently, he could have been a very, very evil dude.

 This Word of Brandon has had a decided effect on the fandom, namely in the fact that critical thought surrounding Kelsier, his motives, his struggles, and his successes, has all but been erased. He has been branded a psychopath, and there is nothing anyone can say against it.

The word “psychopath” is a very negatively charged word. To preface things, I want to be clear that this essay is going to refer to “psychopathy” as Antisocial-Personality Disorder. The term psychopath is very old, and largely refers to individuals with this particular disorder. The traditional definition of psychopath is someone who both lacks a conscience and lacks empathy.

Through this essay, I plan to painstakingly showcase that Kelsier fits neither the outdated term nor the criteria for the actual disorder, through canon book citations. I will break down each diagnostic criteria for Antisocial Personality Disorder (Henceforth shortened to ASPD) and Kelsier’s character traits at large. I wish to not only prove Brandon wrong (It is a very old WoB and I doubt very much he still believes this.) but to prove to the fandom at large that Kelsier is a good man. A flawed man, but a good man. I will also note specific character traits that I feel are of note in discussing him, his motives, and his current ideologies.

(Please note that there are plenty of individuals with ASPD that are not bad people. Your actions make you bad, not your mental health. I will be using terms such as “bad” and “wrong”, but this is in regards to a fictional character, NOT a real life human being.)

Antisocial Personality Disorder is a disorder characterized by the DSM-V as a Cluster-B personality disorder. It shares its family with Narcissistic, Borderline, and Histrionic disorders, and is characterized by a “continuing disregard and violation of the rights of others, occurring since the age of fifteen. To be diagnosed with ASPD, you must show a pattern of three or more of the following characteristics:

·         Failure to Conform with Laws and Social Norms

·         Deceitfulness (Repeated lying or conning of others for personal profit or pleasure.

·         Impulsivity or failure to plan ahead.

·         Irritability or Aggressiveness (Repeated physical fights or assaults.)

·         Reckless disregard for the safety of others.

·         Consistent irresponsibility. (Failure to keep a job or honor financial obligations.)

·         Lack of remorse.

Psychopathy is a term that was coined before this disorder was identified and refers specifically to a person lacking in both empathy and a conscience. The term is still widely used today, along with the term Sociopath, often interchangeably. For this essay, I’ll be largely relying on the psychiatric standards set in the DSM-V.