#the right answer is. that's what she thinks makes sense. but when he is in control of himself he says:

[basicallyjeankirschtein]

lost and found - toji x reader x sukuna

chapter 5: new beginning

summary: definitely rushing, but you meet sukuna! (over text)

warnings: kys jokes, ooc sukuna (i’m sorry i had to make him sweet to reader), pov changes a lot

* writing in between pics if ur interested in context, if not, pics can be read standalone but may be a bit confusing (:

masterlist. prev. next.

you frowned at your phone, checking the time anxiously. where were gojo and geto? did they seriously ditch you again? how can two people collectively be so stupid to ditch you after promising to apologize for ditching you the first time-

you took a deep, anxious breath, trying to calm your nerves. they weren’t that stupid, where they?

well, they where. you were already tearing up, checking the time again. fifteen minutes late. you sighed to yourself, you should have more faith in them-

maybe call them? as you were about to click on getos contact, as he would be more likely to answer his call, you noticed a message from an unknown number. biting your lip anxiously, you texted back.

sukuna? could this night get any worse! he’s probably gonna beat you up next for even being associated with gojo- you were absolutely freaking out, closing the messages app before you could even think of a reply.

did you have read receipts on? you didn’t know. you were too scared to check.

you did infact have read receipts on, you noticed to your dismay. it took you ten minutes to get the courage to check.

not wanting to make sukuna mad at you, and get a face full of his fist, you decided to text back..

he.. just wanted to text? that was odd. definitely weird. he totally wanted something from you- maybe trying to get blackmail material- this was bad! the scariest guy on campus who just beat up your best friend- who should be your ex best friend- just wanted to text? this made no sense at all!

oh, he’s shokos friend! you never knew that! she never mentioned him, weird.

well, maybe you were too trusting, too friendly, because all it took for you to be convinced he didn’t want to ruin your life was that he was shokos friend. you probably should be scared of him, he definitely texted a bit dry which made you a bit uneasy, but he seemed pretty okay!

you hadn’t even noticed how long it’s been since your so called friends were supposed to arrive. they’re a half hour late.

sniffling to yourself, you went back to the groupchat. you didn’t know why leaving the chat made you think that would make them be here in an instant begging for forgiveness, but when it didn’t happen, it made you feel even worse. it didn’t make any sense- you knew of getos hatred towards gojo, so why now suddenly where they inseparable and avoiding everyone but each other? where you bound to always be the one left out?

in all of your friendships, you’ve always been the one pushed to the side. the one standing behind them while they walked together if the sidewalk was too small. even when you introduced shoko and utahime, in hopes you’d finally have an equal trio, they ended up dating. not that you cared, you were so happy for them, but what about for yourself? when will you be someone’s favorite person. they were all your best friends, but you were never their best friend.

was it selfish to make new friends, especially one that beat up your best friend and ruined his reputation? maybe. you didn’t know. but right now, you needed a ride, and your phone was dry and consisted of five contacts (two being your ex-friends and the fifth being sukuna).

taglist

@starmapz @corvid007 @estella-novella @zezedoesshit @beautifulwitchcandy @jinxiewritings @pixiedustaddictsblog @nightlysunn @nanamineedstherapy @lvingd3adg0rl @paradisestarfishh @yanelis-world @str4wb3rryc4k333 @indiewritesxoxo @havkjhdecs @tenthmilo @yunho-leeknow @polarbvnny @b0nez9 @etsuniiru

[dunya99]

gojo x reader (very fluffy)

the fear of being rejected eats you alive everyday but today.

maybe it was that compliment the barista gave you when you were picking up a coffee before your shopping trip, or maybe the fact your skin glows when you ovulate. or maybe, it’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever laid your eyes on who whacked your anxiety in the face.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen a man like him. his white hair perfectly placed perfectly on his head, complimenting his chiseled face. it was as if god sent down angles to carve out each ridge and angle of his face. and his eyes? so blue they peaked through his extremely dark glasses, as if they were glowing. it was kind of scary if you really think about it.

you where both only separated by a glass window, his eyes occupied by what you assume digimond plushies. you quickly took out your phone, your fingers rapidly typing something before walking up to the window and knocking to get his attention.

his head almost instantly snapped to look at you, noticing you holding up your phone to him, a smirk creeping up his lips the moment he read it.

“are you single?” it read. he looked at you, his face only beaming with approval. he shook his head, shaking his hand near his neck as well to better execute his message. he can’t risk miscommunicating to a pretty girl like you!

you giggle as you type back on your phone and he can’t help but stare, your smile captivating him into a trance.

“i can tell.”

his mouth drops open, is this girl serious? does she not know who she’s talking to? his questions got answered by the way you where smiling and laughing. he smiles at you again, putting back the agumon plushie in his hand and quickly making it out of the shop and get to you.

you quickly put your phone in your pocket, trying to calm your laughter down and act as natural as you possibly can but before you knew it, he was right in front of you.

how’d he get here so fast? you around and then back to him, attempting to play dumb.

“sorry, can i help you?”

“i think you can madam, do you think you’re funny?”

you raise an eyebrow, trying to hide the smirking that’s been begging to creep out.

“no idea what you’re talking about, you must be seeing things.” you cross you arms. you try your best to dismiss the way he looks down at you with a smirk by looking away as if your eyes didn’t immediately disobey your senses, looking back at him. his posture must kill seeming he must always looking down at people.

“right.. maybe i am. it’s not everyday a pretty girl like you actively attempts to humiliate me.”

“humiliate?!” your voice slightly rises adding a lace of disbelief to better sell the act. “i would neverrr, you must have the wrong girl.”

“maybe i do,” he threads his fingers through his hair. “but im going to need your number justtt incase, can’t let a suspect slip through my fingers that easily.”

[weepingtalecowboy]

honestly don’t worry about the rant I quite enjoyed it

yeah you are totally right with the power scaling

I just used satire in my own post to make it obvious

like the weird ways people scale like sky , fierce deity and stuff

Is a bit dumb and more like a headcanon then it is actually supported by the games

like no offense towards the god sky or fierce deity stans at all

but like you said fierce deity is NOT a god

but a deity who canonically in the Zelda series are on a different level then gods

like this alone would make the scaling a bit janky

but also saying that fierce deity (or time ) slayed majora is wrong as well

he defeated the mask

a mask used by just a skull kid to try to annihilate the world (and with a winning hand of over 50 times it managed to do it… if not for the ocarina)

it wasn’t even the actual majora fierce deity defeated just the mask

and even then it still was clowning on both link and the deity

it took nothing seriously (probably because the character wasn’t a threat to it anyway)

honestly a thing I really love about the gods of Zelda games

is how there is a clear distinction between goddess and deities

like hylia for example over thirty games in and we still can’t comprehend what she even IS

we only know she is a goddess who somehow reincarnated as Zelda for free golden Doritos

yet she is still present in the series as a goddess as well

this incomprehensiblity makes her Seem so all powerful

people YEARS after she appeared have no clue what she even is how she actually looks like , what her nature is

What she IS is a mystery that people can’t comprehend

the exact same thing happens with the wind fish and Oshu the ocean king as well

we know vaguely they are whales and appeared as such in their respective games

yet that brings up more questions then answers

what is the god of dream

are they the same

are they different beings

the introduction of Marin in hyrule warriors made the wind fish even more of a mystery because that implies either the world isn’t real or Marin is real

like again we have no idea

they are incomprehensible

majora and it’s mask are very much cryptics and nobody truly knows their origins

if the entity is a mask

if the mask is separate

why it wants to destroy the world of termina

how it was involved with the captain of the skeletons giving lore that it was involved in a war that destroyed them

we know nothing once again

the fates in cadence of Hyrule are like really weird as well

like Greek or Roman history is as close to an understanding as we are gonna get

yet the fates of mythology are just as confusing and even unsettling in this context

because there should be three fates one of future ,one of present ,one of past they tread their treads for a person and if you see the three fates cut a string in your sight you or someone close to you will die

that is still hella scary to consider

because they constantly tread threads when you speak to them in the game and one seems to be missing

like what the hell happened

we will never understand

yet fierce deity is comprehensive we know it’s just the anger of termina for majora's mask clowning on them

I think in unironically that this distinction makes sense and fixes the power scaling

like gods are told to be incomprehensible and vaste to the point where nobody now’s anything but their rough purpose (except we still don’t really understand anything regardless)

like now sky seems to also not really have ANYTHING to really make him a god beyond headcanon

and even then it would be shaky at best still

his journey was served to him on a golden plater

he had gods

a guide in form of his sword

blessings

and the ability to upgrade his sword (which he in fact DIDN’T make by himself but only upgraded)

yet still messed up

and like it is absolutely fine that he was kinda op and well prepared

But demise ain’t that much

yeah he cursed the whole world and then reincarnated as ganondorf

BUT his curse is not a sign that he immediately and utterly is a god

he was a scoliosis bad skin cancer fall guy whose TOES (THE TOES.!! ) you had to cut to force it back in its hole

and even if he was brought back… he obviously wasn’t full power regardless

Zelda NEEDS to be sacrificed (and it’s not just taking a bit of power from her she needs to actually die to be a sacrifice… that is like what a sacrifice is meant to be you don’t kinda attack a goat when you sacrifice it you kill it for sure)

and honestly in minish cap Vaati did the same and Zelda is also still not sacrificed but just drained of light force by the end yet nobody acknowledges that four killed a god (if we count the demise thing) as well

like there are many fundamentally flawed ideas that while no doubt in fiction are interesting

are not canon to the game

demise hasn’t even done stuff it was ganondorf or ganon (as we count them separately so should demise be counted as a separate entity because even with the links we count them separate as they have all different memories and experiences)

Why are we even making fierce deity special when legend exists

Fanfic prompt:

You know what in comparison to like the canon gods we met fierce deity is just a 6,3 dude with a big unpractical sword and that’s it

Like that’s literally it the beams it can shoot legend was capable of shoot as young as link to the past lol

Four can shoot beams in four swords adventures

Sky has his beam fancy and called a skyward strike

And in triforce heroes legend has a legit cosplay that guess what …can shoot beams

We don’t need to make the fierce deity feel special because it really really isn’t lol

The windfish can create a whole island on a whim and we know that marin at the very least exists so that cannot just be a dream

Because she is chilling in hyrule warriors very much real looking in my opinion

Fierce deity can’t do that from what I saw of it

Fierce deity just a rat in comparison

Honestly would be hilarious if time was worried about the deity until he realized that the deity is his least worrying problem next to legend

Legend clowned on the deity,…

Just saying the den of trials is not the hardest dungeon he had to deal with

Honestly now that I think about it

Legend might actually be a deity

Like death is no problem because you die in cadence of Hyrule for upgrades and with barely any consequences… like at all

He can shoot beams (which seems to be all you need to be a deity nowadays)

Eats ganon for lunch every other week (or adventure)

Has the fierce deity outfit from an actual trial in hytopia

Interacted with …the windfish and has the ability to wake a god,… and build dungeons in its dream

Saved din and Nayru in the oracle games (farore was there as an easter egg)

Fought onox a non ganondorf evil demon thingy with god like powers who tried to control the concept of time by possessing Nayru, and tried to light the flame of destruction to annihilate the whole world

He could control time and space

Change the seasons on a whim

See the future and met the fates of past, and future in cadence of Hyrule (past let’s you come back to life , future tells you where you have to go )

He has like the golden three

The Windfish

And the fates as friends (or acquaintances but then again the windfish likes him canonically for waking him… the fates kinds are actually helpful)

Like honestly legend probably is more of a god for having the golden Doritos every new adventure for breakfast (he probably carries them after cadence of Hyrule or maybe the fates go out their way to revive him anytime he dies … but it’s probably the Doritos

He wishes on the triforce enough to have it on straight up speed dial

Like… probably literally having it on his hand because everyone gave up on building temples for it when they can just give it to the guy who holds it as often as one holds their tooth brush

If we include the royal blood thing as in the mortal with the blood of the goddess

And him and fable being siblings

Then he should be named legendary hylia and nothing else will be tolerated

Like dude is already named legend

And names hold power and significance

Fierce deity probably is his guard dog

Not because hylia's true reincarnation needs help but because it is the legendary hylia's purse dog Anna fun accessory

While time is freaking out that legend could be off legendary status,… honestly I think that was obvious

I feel so bad for hyrule because how the hell can you possibly even TRY to live up to the legacy of a god like being beyond death and capable of ending world destructive threats and has more godly friends then he has mortal ones

It's like ridiculously unfair lol

The chain has a few deities on their group yet sky is not the god in this scenario

Warriors was making fun of a literal god like being , time, sky , etc. probably realize that while he doesn’t lol

And legend probably doesn’t even know that he is as close to a god as one can possibly be

[sabrinasopposite]

drinks or coffee?

college!charlie baker x photographer!reader

I'm feeling so good At a bad party We don't have to talk I know that you want me Gotta keep it nice We cannot be naughty We can get drinks Or we could get coffee

summary: y/n is stuck in this lame, boring and bad college party, yet she starts to find more reasons to stay there as she was talking to her crush, charlie baker.

Y/N adjusted the strap of her vintage camera, letting the weight of it steady her. She stood in the corner of the crowded apartment, where strings of fairy lights stretched across the ceiling, casting warm, uneven glows on the peeling walls. The party was alive, pulsing with music and laughter, but Y/N felt like she was outside looking in, a ghost in a room of vibrant, living people.

She raised her camera, the familiar click and hum of the focus grounding her. Through the lens, the world always made sense: fragmented, composed, controllable. She scanned the room, her eye catching on flashes of movement and laughter, on the way the light hit someone’s cheekbone just right. But when her camera landed on him, she froze.

Charlie Baker.

He was leaning against the worn-out bookshelf on the other side of the room, casually laughing at something one of his friends said. He had that effortless charisma Y/N couldn’t look away from.

His dark curls fell perfectly messy over his forehead, and his faded denim jacket looked like it had seen its fair share of oil changes and late-night drives. He was all sharp angles and soft smiles, an easy magnetism that made everyone around him feel seen.

Charlie wasn’t like the others on campus who dressed to impress or strutted their way into conversations. He was real, grounded in a way that felt rare. Y/N had heard bits and pieces about him—how he grew up in a big, chaotic family, how he used to be the star of the football team but decided to trade that life for working with his hands.

Word was he wanted to drop out of college altogether and become a car mechanic, though most people couldn’t understand why someone who looked like that wouldn’t want to be famous instead.

Through the lens, Y/N could admire him without fear. She could notice the little things: the way his hands moved when he talked, rough and calloused but deliberate, or the faint grease stains on his jacket cuffs. He had a habit of glancing down when he laughed, like he didn’t realize how captivating he was.

Her heart tugged, a quiet ache she wasn’t sure what to do with. She lowered the camera and sighed.

“Still hiding behind that thing?”

Her breath hitched. She turned to find Charlie standing beside her, a crooked grin on his face. How did he move so quietly?

“Still asking obvious questions?” she shot back, hoping her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

Charlie chuckled, a low, warm sound that made the noise of the party blur into static. His smile was lopsided, like he wasn’t sure it belonged to him. “Touché,” he said. “So, what’s the verdict? Getting any good shots, or is this place a creative wasteland?”

Y/N shrugged, her pulse racing. “It’s... lively.”

“Diplomatic answer.” He tilted his head, studying her the way he might study a car engine that wouldn’t start, his brown eyes sharp and curious. “What are you really thinking?”

She tightened her grip on the camera strap. You’re making it impossible to think. Instead, she said, “I’m thinking that not every party needs to be immortalized.”

“Maybe not,” he said, leaning a little closer. “But I’m betting you’ve already found something worth keeping.”

Charlie was the kind of guy who could make anyone feel at ease. He had this way of giving people his full attention, like whatever they were saying was the most important thing in the world. Tonight, though, it felt like his focus was entirely on her, and Y/N didn’t know what to do with it.

He asked her about her photography, genuinely curious, and she found herself talking more than she expected—about her gallery submission, her love for capturing fleeting moments, how the camera helped her make sense of the world.

“You must have the patience of a saint,” he said, his voice low and warm.

“Not really.” She smiled, feeling her cheeks heat. “I just know what I’m looking for.”

His gaze lingered on her, a beat too long. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I can see that.”

Y/N’s stomach flipped, and she quickly looked away, pretending to adjust her camera.

It wasn’t fair, the way Charlie existed. He was every bit the campus heartthrob, but there was nothing flashy about him. He didn’t chase attention—it just followed him, like moths to a flame. He continued to carry the conversation as he told her about his love for cars, how he’d spend hours in the garage back home with his dad, rebuilding engines and making junkers run like new. “It’s honest work,” he said, his voice tinged with longing. “There’s something satisfying about fixing something with your hands, you know?”

Y/N nodded, though she didn’t fully understand. What she did understand was the way his face lit up when he talked about it, like it was more than a job—it was who he was. She found herself noticing everything about him: the way his hair caught the light, the faint smudge of grease on his forearm, the way his voice softened when he talked about home. She wanted to capture it all, not with her camera, but just for herself.

As the party wound down, Charlie stayed, lingering in her orbit like a half-finished thought. Someone called him away, and she thought the moment was over. But later, as she stood on the balcony, trying to let the cold air clear her mind, he appeared again. “Thinking about calling it a night?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Maybe.”

He hesitated, then smiled, something shy in the curve of it. “I was thinking of getting coffee. You know, to detox from all... this.” He gestured vaguely toward the party behind them.

Her heart raced, but she shrugged, keeping her face neutral. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

When she finally decided to leave, he was waiting by the door.

“Still up for coffee?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She hesitated, a thousand thoughts colliding in her mind. But then she nodded. “Yeah. Coffee sounds good.”

They walked through the quiet streets, the tension between them humming like the low purr of an engine. At the café, under the golden glow of the lights, Charlie leaned forward, his hands wrapped around his cup.

“You know,” he said, his voice soft, “I wasn’t really thinking about the party tonight. I was thinking about you.”

Y/N’s breath caught, her fingers tightening around her own cup.

“I’ve been seeing you in a different light,” he admitted. “And I don’t know if I’m reading this wrong, but...”

She met his gaze, the courage rising unbidden. “You’re not.”

His smile widened, slow and warm, and suddenly, the weight of unspoken words lifted. The night stretched ahead of them, full of possibility, and for the first time, Y/N felt like she didn’t need her camera to hold on to it.

🥡 taglist: @blackynsupremacy @alelo23 @collywobblvs @tvdelrey @angelsgalore @callicela @seulgi-burgundy

[xoxorealitygalore]

Trust and Believe V

summary: Keyshia and Joe had a seemingly perfect life together after marrying in 2010. However, as their careers grew, so did the strain on their relationship. When Joe cheats on Keyshia. The emotional fallout from the incident leaves their relationship hanging in the balance, with Keyshia questioning if they could ever recover from the betrayal.

Joe and Keyshia sat across from each other in the cozy, dimly lit therapy room. The quiet hum of the air conditioning was the only sound, and the tension between them felt palpable, even in this neutral space meant for healing. They had been to therapy a handful of times before, but today felt different. It was as if they were on the precipice of something—some breakthrough, some painful truth or realization.

The therapist, a middle-aged woman named Dr. Reynolds, sat across from them, her calm demeanor offering a quiet sense of reassurance. She had seen many couples come through her doors, some barely hanging on, others desperate for answers, and some simply unsure of where to start. Joe and Keyshia were somewhere in between.

Keyshia sat with her arms crossed tightly in front of her, her expression unreadable. Her eyes flicked between Joe and Dr. Reynolds, but her body language was tense—on guard, as if she were preparing herself for something that might hurt. Joe, on the other hand, leaned back slightly on the couch, looking more relaxed but with an undercurrent of nervousness. His fingers tapped lightly on his thigh as he glanced at Keyshia, a small furrow in his brow.

Keyshia spoke first. Her voice, though calm, carried the weight of a lifetime of unspoken emotions.

“It’s hard,” she began, her voice steady but tinged with frustration. “It’s really hard, Dr. Reynolds. I feel like I’m fighting a battle inside myself every day. Every time I get upset, every time something triggers me, my insides just… burn up. I feel like I’m going crazy, like I’m about to lose control. But I’ve learned to control it. I’ve learned not to crash out, not to let it all explode. And that’s been tough. Really tough.”

Dr. Reynolds nodded, acknowledging the depth of what Keyshia was expressing. She understood that emotions like the ones Keyshia was describing weren’t easily managed, and that the act of controlling one’s own emotional responses took more than just willpower—it took self-awareness, time, and effort. Keyshia wasn’t just talking about being angry or upset; she was describing the intense, gut-wrenching, almost uncontrollable feelings that came from years of emotional turmoil.

Joe shifted in his seat, looking down for a moment before meeting Keyshia’s eyes. There was a mix of regret and guilt in his gaze. He knew he had played a part in bringing them to this place, and the weight of that was heavy on his heart. He had cheated on Keyshia, and now they were here, trying to piece together the fragments of their broken relationship.

“I didn’t make it easy for you,” Joe said quietly, his voice full of regret. “I’ve hurt you. I know I’ve hurt you. And I’m sorry.”

Keyshia let out a small, almost dismissive laugh. It wasn’t a laugh of amusement, but more of a laugh born out of frustration. Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she looked away from him, her jaw clenched. She was tired of hearing the same apologies. She had heard them countless times before, each one seeming more like an empty gesture than a true sign of remorse.

“I’m tired of hearing that, Joe,” Keyshia said, her voice low but firm. “I’m tired of hearing you say sorry and not understanding why it even happened in the first place. You don’t get to just apologize and think that fixes everything. I need to understand why. I need to know why you cheated. What happened? Where did we go wrong?”

Her words hung in the air, sharp and raw. Joe's eyes dropped once more, as if he were searching for the right words, for an answer that could satisfy the pain and confusion in her voice. He didn’t have an immediate answer, not one that felt worthy of her pain, but he knew he had to try.

"I… I don’t know," he said slowly, as if the admission pained him. "I think I was selfish. I didn’t think about how my actions would affect you, or how they would affect us. I wasn’t thinking about the relationship, I was thinking about myself. I don’t want to make excuses, but I know I screwed up. I hurt you, and I can’t take that back. But what I can do is try to be better now. And I don’t know if that’s enough, but it’s all I have."

Keyshia was quiet for a moment, processing his words. Her expression softened, but the pain was still evident in her eyes. The trust that had once been a solid foundation between them had been shattered, and rebuilding it seemed like an impossible task.

Dr. Reynolds, sensing the tension between them, decided to step in gently.

"It’s clear that both of you are carrying a lot of pain," she said, her voice calm and steady. "And it’s also clear that Keyshia has made significant progress in managing her emotions. But managing emotions doesn’t mean they go away, Keyshia. You’ve been working hard to control how you respond, but it’s important to also understand where those emotions come from and what they mean. And Joe, you’re carrying your own guilt. The question now is how you both move forward from here."

Keyshia nodded, her arms still tightly crossed. She could feel the weight of her emotions building up inside her, but she had learned over the years how to keep them at bay. Still, there was a part of her that wanted to scream, to shout at Joe for everything that had gone wrong. She wanted him to understand just how deep the hurt went, just how much she had to fight every day not to let that hurt control her. But she didn’t want to explode again. She didn’t want to crash out.

“I’ve been doing better, but it’s still hard,” Keyshia admitted, her voice quiet but honest. “Sometimes I just want to lose control. Sometimes I just want to scream at you, at everything. But I know that won’t help. It won’t fix anything. But I don’t know how to stop feeling the way I do.”

Joe looked at her, his heart aching. He could see the inner turmoil she was going through, the battle she fought every day to keep her emotions in check. And he knew, deep down, that he had been the catalyst for so much of that pain.

“I get it,” he said softly. “I really do. And I’m sorry. I don’t want to make it harder for you, Keyshia. I want to be better. I want to fix this, but I know it’s going to take time. And I know I can’t just tell you it’s going to be okay. I have to show you.”

Keyshia’s eyes softened slightly, but there was still a guardedness to her expression. She wasn’t ready to fully let her guard down. Not yet. Not after everything that had happened. But she appreciated that Joe was at least acknowledging her pain and the effort she was putting into holding everything together.

Dr. Reynolds spoke again, guiding them back to the heart of the issue.

“Keyshia, it seems like you’ve made a lot of progress in understanding and managing your emotions,” she said. “But you’ve also been through a lot. You’re not just controlling your reactions; you’re trying to make sense of them, and that’s a crucial part of healing. Joe, you’ve acknowledged your mistakes. The next step is to explore how you both can begin to rebuild trust and communication.”

Keyshia nodded, a quiet sigh escaping her lips. "I just don't understand how things went wrong. How did we get here? I want to understand how we got to this point so that I can make sense of it. I don’t want to keep feeling this way, but it’s hard when I feel like there’s so much left unanswered.”

Joe glanced at her, his heart heavy with the weight of her words. He wished he could explain everything, wished he could give her the answers she was desperately searching for. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure himself. He didn’t know when or how things had started to unravel. He had been selfish, disconnected, and unable to see how his actions affected the person he loved most.

“I don’t have all the answers, Keyshia,” he said softly. “But I’m willing to figure it out with you. If you’re willing to try. I can’t promise that things will be perfect, but I can promise that I’m going to work every day to be the person you deserve.”

The room fell into a quiet stillness as the words hung in the air. Joe's vulnerability, his willingness to admit his faults and face the consequences of his actions, was a step toward healing. But it was only one step. The journey ahead would be long, full of hard conversations, raw emotions, and painful revelations.

Keyshia looked at Joe, her eyes searching his face for something—some sign that he truly meant it, that he was ready to do the hard work that rebuilding trust required. She didn’t know if she could fully trust him again, not yet, but there was a small part of her that felt the smallest flicker of hope.

“I don’t know if I can ever forgive you completely,” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly. “But I’m willing to try. For us. For me.”

And in that moment, both Joe and Keyshia knew that while the road ahead would be difficult, it was the only path worth walking. Together.

[unsoju]

✿ thinkin bout you. 𓂃 k. kozume x f. reader

cw. word count ; 1.9k. part 2 of ; trust. trust who? beach day episode. anxiety. kind of insecure! reader. kuroo appearance. keiko already knowing about kenma and reader. kind of suggestive? they don’t do anything, but they mention things that happened in part one.

syn. after the mishap with kenma last month, things have gotten more and more awkward, and you have gotten less you, as time goes on. keiko invites you to the beach, in hopes of cheering you up.

It’s a good day for the beach. There aren’t too many people here, because it’s a Monday. The sun is out, but there are still clouds in the sky, so it’s not swelteringly hot out. You’re with your best friend, skipping school with no consequences since your parents already said yes to a beach day.

Beside you, Keiko is laid out on her beach towel, letting the sun beam down on her skin as she hopes and prays for a good tan. You, on the other hand, have your knees pulled up to your chest, sunglasses on, and you’re reading a book.

“Are you still reading that godforsaken book?” Without looking over, you can tell Keiko doesn’t even have her eyes open. She knows you too well, she could probably predict your every move at this point. You do, in fact, look back, though, a smile on your face. Her eyes open and she props herself up on her elbow, tilting her head. “We are literally at the beach, Y/n. Like, the sun is out, the waves are crashing against the sand, or whatever. Enjoy the sun!”

You sigh, but make a show out of closing your book and setting it to the side. Your arms end up wrapped around your legs and you rest your cheek on a knee. “It’s hot. I can’t just sit there and tan like you do— I get bored. Why can’t we go in the water yet?”

“Because Kenma and Kuroo haven’t shown up yet.” Your stomach drops at the mention of his name. Your eyes dart away from her, now glued to the water. “Besides,” she says, laying back down, “I still have a few minutes left before I can stop tanning my front side.”

“Kenma and Kuroo are coming?” You ask, voice quiet and distant. You haven’t talked to Kenma in weeks. The thought of seeing him again makes you nervous. Briefly, you’re insecure about the swimsuit you’re wearing, but then remember that night in his room and stop.

“Mhm. It’s their senior skip day, that’s why my parents said yes to me skipping too.”

You hum in response. That makes sense, logically, but that doesn’t mean you have to like it. You sigh and glance back at her once more. She looks so peaceful— so happy. You with a resigned purse of your lips, you stand up. “I’m going to get ice cream. You want strawberry?”

Her answer barely reaches your ears as she mumbles out a yes. You brush the sand off your hands and look out to the water again. You think you might want to go home again right now. There’s a few people lining the beach; some college kids playing beach volleyball, an older couple sitting very close to the water, a singular woman laying down and enjoying the sun.

You take a deep breath and try to calm your nerves. For a moment, you start to think about excuses you could use in order to escape. But then you think back to when Keiko was so excited that you agreed to come today, and a frown finds its way onto your face.

As you make your way to the ice cream shop, you can’t help but zone out. You try to keep your eyes in focus, but they just can’t. you’re too focused on Kenma and him showing up and the possibility that he told Kuroo what you two did and how Kuroo is going to snicker at you and judge you and—

A familiar laugh pulls you out of your thoughts. It’s loud and it’s annoying and you look up to see Kuroo and Kenma walking straight towards you.

Now, you have two options; there’s a group of bushes beside you. You could jump in and hide from them, risking your dignity and also the fact that it would probably hurt. Or. You keep walking, chin high, and pretend nothing is wrong.

You glance at the bushes, then back to the pair, and slowly realize that Kenma has already spotted you. You wrap your arms around yourself and go with a secret third option.

You put your head down and speed walk past them, ignoring Kuroo’s greeting and Kenma’s cat-like eyes burning into your skin.

There’s no time to think about what just happened— how embarrassing and plain rude it was— because you’re at the ice cream shop in less than ten steps after passing the two boys. Just like the beach, there’s not a lot of people there; two people working, and one person sitting down at one of the tables.

You’re less than a yard away from the counter, when there’s a hand on your shoulder, spinning you around to look at them. Kenma stands in front of you now, shirtless and a little out of breath. Did he run back here? 

There’s a sheen of sweat covering his body and, in the sun, it almost looks as if he’s sparkling. You want to throw up. Instead, you plaster a smile on your face and blink a couple times. “Hi, Kenma. Are you getting some ice cream, too?”

If possible, his face falls even flatter. “Cut the bullshit,” he snaps, making you flinch backwards a little bit. Kenma has never been an aggressive guy— well, maybe that’s not true after knowing what you know now, but he’s always been nice to you. “Why are you acting so… weird?”

Again, you blink at him, face blank, eyes dumb. There are so many scenarios running through your head; you tell him why you’re acting weird and he gets weirded out. You don’t tell him why you’re acting weird and he stops talking to you. You don’t tell him why you’re acting weird and he tells Keiko, effectively ruining your friendship.

“I’m not…” you trail off, eyes darting anywhere but his face. This is it. This is your chance. Speak now or forever hold your peace, right? You huff out a quick breath and meet his golden eyes once more. “I’m acting weird because you were my first kiss and then acted like nothing happened! And then you took my virginity and did the same damn thing!”

His eyes widen comically as you rant. Almost too fast for you to even process, his eyes sweep the surroundings before he grabs your arm and drags you away to a more secluded place— one where no one will see you. 

Your rate picks up again. You find it often does that when you’re around Kenma.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He hisses out, hand still gripping your arm. It makes you think back to that night when you first asked him the question, and you have to suppress a shiver. “You— I thought— you left my room before I woke up the morning after. You were the one who told me not to say anything to Keiko when I kissed you. You acted like nothing happened first. I followed your lead because I thought you didn’t want Keiko to know.”

“I don’t, but—”

“Then this is not just on me,” he cuts you off, eyes narrowed. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Kenma this mad before— you don’t think you’ve ever seen him mad, actually. “It’s partly my fault, because I was stupid enough to—”

It’s silent for a moment. The breeze kicks up, blowing both of your hair in the wind, yet there isn’t a word spoken. He stares at you, and you stare at him— silent.

“Stupid enough to what?” Your voice comes out in a shaky, weak whisper. You sound pathetic, and you know it, but you don’t care. Tears begin to sting at your eyes and you stare at him dumbly.

He hesitates, letting go of your arm and taking a step back. He seems to be calmer already. “Shit, I—” he takes an indecisive step forward, brows furrowing slightly. “I didn’t— I wasn’t going to say that, I was—” he cuts himself off with a frustrated sigh. “I wasn’t saying that taking your virginity was stupid. I was just… It would be better if you weren’t Keiko’s best friend, you know? I’m glad you are, but…”

“But it complicated things,” you finish for him, nodding. You look down at the ground and a singular tear splashes onto the sand. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t… I just, um, wanted someone I trusted.”

“I know.” His hand finds your arm again, his fingers are cold against your sun kissed skin. “And that’s perfectly fine. I think I already said this, but I’m happy you picked me and not some random guy from school.” This gets a small laugh out of you and, when you look up, Kenma is half-smiling too. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. It was kind of mean.”

You giggle again and sniffle, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “It’s okay. I kind of yelled about you and my virginity in front of those ice cream workers, so it cancels out.”

“Yeah,” Kenma laughs out, nodding. “I guess it does.”

You two stare at each other for a moment longer, basking in the comfortable silence that settles around you.

Kenma is the first one to talk. A hesitant question as he tilts his head, “So?”

You mirror his action, tilting it the other way, and furrow your brows. “So?” You repeat. Your mind catches up to what he’s asking and your eyes widen. “Oh. So. What do you… I mean, like, I know that I, personally, wouldn’t—”

“What are we gonna tell Keiko?”

The question stops you short, your brain seems to stutter. “Oh,” you breathe out. “I… did not think about that.”

“I don’t think you need to tell her.” The new, but familiar, voice cuts through the air like a sword. You can feel the air around you get freezing cold. You swallow hard and slowly turn around to Keiko standing not even five feet away from you, hands crossed over her chest. Kuroo stands next to her, brows raised in complete and utter disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me?” She exclaims, marching towards you. “You lost your virginity to my brother and didn’t tell me?”

You can’t even talk right now. Your throat is dry, your brain is fried, you can’t breathe. “Keiko, I can—”

She glances back at Kuroo for a millisecond before they both start cackling. They clutch their stomachs and double over, wheezing and gasping for breath.

You and Kenma exchange glances, confusion written on both of your faces. “Uh.” Kenma scratches the back of his neck, clearing his throat. “What’s happening right now?”

Keiko, through her gasps of laughter, looks up at you and shakes her head, taking another step towards you and hitting your shoulder. “I already knew, you dumbass. I was just waiting for you to say something and you just, like, never did!”

“Oh my god.” You blink a couple times, staring down at the sand once again. “Oh my god. Keiko, what? How did you know?”

Her laughter has stopped now. She looks at you, leans close to your ear, and giggles before whispering, “you need to learn to be more quiet. Be happy my parents weren’t there for you to wake up.”

You can feel your face heat up. Kenma gives you a confused look, but you shake your head, mumbling something about telling him later.

“Okay, can we swim now, or what?”

All three of you look at Kuroo and laugh. “Yeah,” Kenma nods his head, unexpectedly throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Let’s go swim.”

[mollywog]

Oooh tell me how what you find interesting about the “I don’t know how you survived this long” line from Peeta. Now that I think about it’s so interesting to me that Peeta thinks lying is a necessity for surviving, and actually says a lot about how he was raised?

Ooo thank you for the ask @mage-chocolate!!

"You're such a bad liar, Katniss. I don't know how you've survived this long." He begins to mimic me. "I knew that goat would be a little gold mine. You're a little cooler though. Of course, I'm not going." He shakes his head. "Never gamble at cards. You'll lose your last coin," he says.

Three different levels here: Living in Panem in general, surviving the Games, Peeta’s home life (this is more HC stuff)

In Panem

You’d expect Katniss would need to be a good liar with all her illegal activities, but fortunately she’s recognized this and has found other ways to stay out of trouble:

When I was younger, I scared my mother to death, the things I would blurt out about District 12, about the people who rule our country, Panem, from the far-off city called the Capitol. Eventually I understood this would only lead us to more trouble. So I learned to hold my tongue and to turn my features into an indifferent mask so that no one could ever read my thoughts. Do my work quietly in school. Make only polite small talk in the public mar-ket. Discuss little more than trades in the Hob, which is the black market where I make most of my money. Even at home, where I am less pleasant, I avoid discussing tricky topics. Like the reaping, or food shortages, or the Hunger Games. Prim might begin to repeat my words and then where would we be?

Not to mention, she says the peacekeepers are among her best customers (don’t execute bite the hand that feeds.)

In the games

Let me start with a kudos to @cutpaperbleedswater for their point from this ask

The idea of putting on a facade and pretending to be something for the sake of strategy is everywhere- from Katniss slipping her mask of indifference on and not crying as soon as she volunteers to her interview prep struggles:

"All right, enough," he says. "We've got to find another angle. Not only are you hostile, I don't know anything about you. I've asked you fifty questions and still have no sense of your life, your family, what you care about. They want to know about you, Katniss."

"But I don't want them to! They're already taking my future! They can't have the things that mattered to me in the past!" I say.

"Then lie! Make something up!" says Haymitch.

"I'm not good at lying," I say.

"Well, you better learn fast. You've got about as much charm as a dead slug," says Haymitch.

…

By the end of the session, I am no one at all. Haymitch started drinking somewhere around witty, and a nasty edge has crept into his voice. "I give up, sweetheart. Just answer the questions and try not to let the audience see how openly you despise them."

I’m also thinking about Katniss hiding her tears over Thresh’s death because it won’t play well for sponsors.

In Peeta’s home life

We know Peeta’s mother physically and verbally assaults him at least once in the past and it’s suggested it wasn’t a one-off occurrence.

So moving into the stuff of HCs: I imagine that Mrs. Mellark is sort of unpredictable - that she can be loving and charming (Peeta’s charm comes from somewhere and Mr. Mellark is often described as quiet), but she can also turn on a dime. And as a result the family walks on egg shells and Peeta, from a young age becomes accurately perceptive of moods (and then by extension others’), and learns to anticipate reactions and lie convincingly - skills he applies beyond just his home life.

[graceisinthelibrary]

For @royalbesties

From the "Send me a prompt, get a drabble" challenge. She asked for no 8, "How long were you planning on hiding this`"

I hope you will like it. It's set after episode 6 of Series 5.

It's not the first time I play with this idea, but it doesn't seem to leave me....

“How long were you planning on hiding this?” The question left him mortified. There was still enough elderberry wine in his system to make his head pound, but he wasn’t as drunk as before. Somehow he had made it up the stairs into his room for a nap. Now he was hangover and she had offered to look after the cuts all over his arms, face, and shoulder. He didn’t mind the little indulgence, but he had completely forgotten that her offer to treat his minor wounds meant he had to take off his shirt - well, what was left of it after the hike he and Tris had made through the Dales.  

After a decade of sharing his home with a woman like Audrey Hall, he should have known that nothing, truly nothing, escaped her notice. How she did it was a mystery to him, but his mother used to say that women were more perceptive than men and maybe that was the key. It didn’t matter now, because his housekeeper had found out his secret within less than a week’s time and it was no one else’s fault but his own. 

“Seriously, Mr Farnon…” She seemed a little embarrassed, at any rate flustered. She put down the small bottle with her witch’s ointment and disposed of the pad she used to apply it. 

“Just promise not to tell anyone,” he begged. “It’s personal!” 

“A grown man your age…” She sounded aghast and he felt how the pounding in his head intensified. Then there was the heat in his cheeks that had nothing to do with the elderberry wine. 

The comment about his age didn’t bode well with him. What was she implying? Not too long ago she had told him he had still plenty of him and now she was calling him old? 

“This has nothing to do with age,” he countered, hoping she didn’t think he was going through some sort of midlife crisis. He quickly pulled his shredded shirt over his shoulder and gulped down the coffee she had prepared for him. 

“When did you even get it?” She wondered. 

“Last week.” 

“I see…” 

He touched his right shoulder and flinched. It still hurt a little. “Oh bugger!” Sensing her eyes on him he looked up - most reluctantly - and awaited her withering assessment. If he feared anyone’s judgement it was hers. God himself could knock at his front door and tell him, he was about to go to hell and he wouldn’t mind. But she was something else. Her good opinion meant everything to him. 

“Can I… can I see it again?” She asked with a fierce blush spreading over her cheeks. To say he was surprised was an understatement. He was flabbergasted and secretly pleased. “Alright…” 

He turned his back on her and slowly pulled down the remainders of his shirt. For almost a minute she didn’t speak and he wondered if she was still there, but then he felt her fingertips on his shoulder blade and he gasped. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “I have to give you that.” She paused and then she added in a low voice, “Is it… did you… were it her idea?”

Her? He blew his cheeks. Did she mean Miss Grantley? Well, since she couldn’t talk about Helen, this had to be about Miss Grantley. Miss Grantley. The thought of his clumsy attempts to get her attention to prove himself - and the world - that he still got it, made him squirm. He had truly blown that one and he was definitely not eager to repeat the experience. 

“No,” he answered truthfully. “Not in the least.” 

Then again he felt her fingertips on his skin. They were tracing the outline of the horse that had been inked on his shoulder blade. A shiver flushed down his spine.   

“It’s Vonolel…not the rat, my horse from Ypres.” 

“Handsome creature.” He couldn’t get enough of her fingers on his bare skin, but the sensation was over too quickly when she removed her hand and told him to get decent again. 

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” He asked as he buttoned his shirt, a pretty useless action that at least gave his fingers something to do. “Not after I read the riot act to Tristan for inking a camel on his arse.” 

“Your secret’s safe with me,” she assured him with a chuckle. “How about a sandwich. I happen to have some jam…” 

[peachesvanilla]

Synopsis: Seungchoel just wants to see his crush once more, or maybe dare to initiate a conversation. Genre: fluff

Seungcheol enters the bookstore, the smell of books and the musty cupboards surrounds him. His eyes rove around the store hoping to see her again. He pulls the scarf from his neck, folding it around his arm as he saunters into the long rows of bookshelves. 

The snow is heavy outside, driving to his hometown has been no short of adventure especially when the sun was already setting down. The roads were slippery and busy due to being a new year’s eve, he had to drive slowly. He did think of backing off but he couldn’t easily get a long holiday. And the thoughts of her are plaguing him, yearning to look at her once more. If he is lucky, maybe talk with her. 

His fingers slide across the spines of the books, his eyes looking through the gaps of the shelves. If the information given by his friend turns out to be false, he will nail his friend’s head into the wall. 

“Are you looking for anything?” Her soft voice asks from behind. 

Seungcheol’s heart pitter patters in his chest. She is here. He turns around slowly, her flowery scent overwhelming his senses. She is standing a foot away from him, his attention immediately drawn to the fact she is tinier compared to the first time he saw her. 

Her gaze flicks up from his neck to his eyes. She blinks rapidly, her lips parting slightly. Seongcheol runs his hand through his icy cold hair, running a hundred simulations in his mind on what to answer and how the situation will pan out based upon his answers. 

“I’m,” he scratches his eyebrow, “looking for,” his eyes fleeting momentarily to the mystery books next to him. He grimaces, “actually I’m new to books. I would be happy to receive some recommendations.” 

Her entire being beams up at his words. “Of course. Which genre do you prefer to read? Mystery? Thriller?” Her fingers are already in a hurry going over the spines of mystery section books. 

“Uhm,” he hesitates, leaning on the book shelf, “I don’t necessarily enjoy mystery or suspense thriller movies. I’m not sure I’ll enjoy the books.” 

Her fingers freezes, her ears turning red. “I’m so sorry!” She bows her head slightly, “I just assumed everything, not giving you space to talk.” Her tinted cheeks make him smile, popping out his dimple. 

He runs his hand through his hair, ducking down his head to hide the grin. Why is she so cute? Pulling his lips back, he tries to control his smile. “That’s fine.” He waves it off, his eyes jumping from poster to poster hanging on the walls. “I’m the one who is,” he searches for a word that categorises him and also makes him look not so sappy, “slightly different. As I usually prefer to watch romance movies.” 

“Oh.” 

Seungcheol just wants to walk out from the store without looking back and drive far away. Preferably off the earth. Dramatic. “I know,” he looks down at his boots, still avoiding looking at her, “it’s just,” his hands start waving in the air trying to explain his stance on their own, “I don’t..” 

His ears twitch listening to her laugh, one of her hands holding the book shelf and another her stomach. If he can squint he can see tears in her eyes. He pokes his tongue in his cheek, holding the bookshelf inches away from her hand, leaning in, “what kind of service is this? Laughing at a customer?” 

She covers her mouth, blinking her eyes several times. “I’m..” she inhales deeply, catching her breath, “sorry.” Her eyes shining like a sky filled with stars, he swears he saw a twinkle. She leans in a little, her face a few inches away from his, and his eyes greedily takes in every feature of hers. Freckles sprinkled all over her right cheek. The slight curve of her mouth, and the subtle hints of her perfume. 

She whispers, “I love romance too. I’m glad you came in,” she smiles at him, signaling him to follow her. She swivels around disappearing into the next aisle. 

Seungcheol groans into his outstretched arm. Why is she so adorable? If only he can pocket her and carry around. He slides his palm across his face, following her to the next aisle. 

“…men always trash romance.” She looks over her shoulder making sure he is listening. “That’s why I assumed you were looking for suspense thrillers.” 

He nods. “What do you read?” 

He notices the subtle raise of her shoulders and the deep breath. “I read everything, except suspense thrillers.” She looks away sheepishly, her fingers trailing over the books under the romance section. “Memoirs, self help, comfort, and even cookbooks.” 

“Ah.” Seungcheol leans on the books, “when you said you could recommend a suspense thriller..?” He quirks his eyebrow. 

“I don’t read it,” she stands on her tiptoes, pulling out a book off the top shelf. “But I do look into trend, recommendations from trusted sources.” She plucks out another book from the middle, and another from the bottom row. “Here you go.” 

Seungcheol accepts the books from her, flipping it over and scanning through the summaries. He chews on his bottom lip, contemplating over which one to choose. He gives up, jutting his lower lip, “can you decide for me please.” 

Her eyes flicker to his lips, and then to his eyes. “Uhm..” she clutches her hands, “if I have to choose,” she stares at the three books in his hands, “I would go for this one.” She taps on the middle book. “I just couldn’t get over the couple for a few days after completing the book.” 

Seungcheol’s heart skips a beat when she looks in his eyes straight, unwavering. He nods in reply, “then it’s decided.” 

She beams at him, guiding him to the counter. He looks at the empty store while she punches on the machine. “The store is empty.” He remarks. 

“Ah,” she smiles, “the closing hour was at 6:00 pm due to the new year.” 

He checks the time on his phone, 7:03 pm. “Fuck,” he swears under his breath, “I’m so sorry! The door was open and I thought..”

“No.. no..” she cuts in, “it’s my fault I should have hung the board but no one visited since afternoon and I didn’t think anyone would. Especially when the event starts at 7:00 pm.” 

 “Event?” He tilts his head to the side, lost in thought. He doesn’t remember his friend mentioning any event. 

“New year countdown.” She frowns at him, “are you not from here?” 

“I’m just visiting. This is my hometown but I live in Seoul.” 

“Ah.” She nods in understanding. “That’s what I thought. The town heads have been advertising like crazy for the past few days that it’s hard to miss the posters and flyers around the town.” She dips her head, checking the computer, “it’s 17.7.” 

Seungcheol taps the card, “are you planning on attending this event?” 

She curls her hair behind her ear, printing his bill. “I don’t have anything to do except roll up in my comforter and watch Netflix. So why not just go and watch the firecrackers.” She shrugs. 

He nods, tapping his fingers on the wooden counter. The guilt gnaws at his chest, he is the reason she stayed back and she isn’t even annoyed at him. 

“Thank you.” She hands him the cover, turning off her system. “Happy new year!”

He picks up the cover, and just braves up, “as an apology can I take you to the event? I can give you the ride and,” he notices the crease between her eyebrows, “I will give you all my details and you can send it to your family just as a precaution. I don’t bite or kill anyone.” 

“That’s too much,” she smiles tentatively, “trust me I’m really fine. I need to close the store and walk a mile.” 

“A mile?!” 

“Or two.” She adds hesitantly. 

“It's freezing! Please,” he leans in, “consider this as my gratitude for not judging and suggesting a romance book.” He still sees the hesitation in her, his pout comes out involuntarily, “please.” 

Her eyes flick to his lips, she parts her lips and closes it back a few times. “I.. am not..” she stops her words, noticing he is halfway to sulking. “Alright.” She sighs, pressing her nose in distress. 

He grins widely, his phone out in seconds and already sharing his information to her. She shakes her head in disbelief, noting it down on her phone. After turning off the lights, and cross checking the doors they leave for the event under her direction. 

“What are your plans for tonight?” She asks as they slowly approach the parking garage. 

He shrugs. “Probably go home and read the book?” Driving his car into the parking slot after roaming around the lot for an empty space. He didn’t expect this event to be this crowded. 

“Oh.” She replies. “If.. you don’t mind..,” Seungcheol looks at her, “you can join me. We can watch the fireworks and the food from a few stalls will blow your mind.” 

He should take up on this offer. If not now then when will he be able to get this opportunity again? Hesitation creeps up in his mind, the event probably has hundreds of people and he feels suffocated in large groups. 

She is watching him with hopeful puppy eyes. Her hands intertwined and resting on her lap. God, how can he say no to her? Maybe… maybe he can handle the crowd. One can try. 

“I.. can..,” he runs his hand through his hair ruffling it. Her shoulders perk up again. “Yeah, I definitely can.” He turns off the engine, unbuckling his seatbelt. She follows the pursuit and the two are strolling towards the entrance of the event. 

“What’s your name?” She scratches her cheek, squeamishly. “It’s just that I even have your number and address but not your name.” 

Seungcheol laughs. “Seungcheol.” He moves closer to her noticing people crowding in. There isn’t much space for people to walk freely unless you crash into someone’s back or arms. He looks over his shoulder noticing kids walking closer to them. 

He snaps his head to her, listening to his name in her melodic calm tone. “Seung,” she pauses, “Cheol. Seungcheol.” His heart skips a beat, he leans in hoping to catch her say his name once more. “Seungcheol.” Her whispers, drives him insane. 

She faces him, muttering her name in his ear as the crowd gets louder and rowdier. His arm possessively hover on her shoulder, not touching. His lips curl up watching her bounce on her feet before rushing to a food stall. He follows her close behind, her back crashing into his front whenever she abruptly stops as people cut in her way.  

As they near the stall, she holds her hand behind her, Seungcheol grabs hesitantly as she drags him (or tries to as he lets her) to the line. She turns around her face no short of the bright sun. “You have to try this!” She is on her tiptoes again, shouting over the loud music playing on the stage nearby. “You’ll love it. The best you can find in the whole country.” 

He leans in to catch her words. She grabs onto his shoulder, “this is the reason I want to come in.” 

Seungcheol really wants to listen to her words but the hand on his shoulder, her grip on him malfunctions his brain’s wiring. He keeps nodding as her words go over his head and her hand slides down his jacket. 

The line moves forward, she slips her hand off him excited that they are only two customers away. There’s that hop again. Seungcheol turns away his hand sliding down his face, his insides screaming. He can’t do this anymore. She is fucking cute. 

She quickly orders the food as soon as she greets the owner. He is surprised that the owner recognises her and also gives extra food. He searches for an empty spot to sit but couldn’t. 

She is also looking around, shuffling the plastic plate from one hand to another. He swiftly grabs the plate from her, leading her to the less crowded corner. She leans on the wall, her entire attention on the food in his hands. Cheekiness creeps inside him as he moves the plate to left watching her face turn to left and he moves it to the right chuckling at her parted lips and hungry stare. 

She shoves his chest, he doesn’t even budge an inch. She grabs a fork, picking up a small piece blowing it on it. Her eyes flit to his watching one’s, she extends the fork to him. He crouches down accepting the food. He hums in agreement, the flavours burst out on his tongue. 

She quickly eats the hot food, watching the crowd wandering around. She talks about the specialities the event is offering and asks if he is interested in any. They continue to chat and eat as the time passes by quickly. 

Dumping the empty plates in the dustbin Seungcheol jogs back to her. “So should we try some games?”

They wait in line for a shooting game, chatting about anything and everything. “I don’t know if I mentioned this already but I’m planning to visit Seoul soon.” She informs him. 

“Oh.” He perks up at her words. “That’s nice. Maybe I can take you to my favourite food stalls.” 

She scrunches her nose, “I don’t know if I’ll have time. I'm the maid of honour for my friend’s wedding. I am not sure if she allows me out of her sight during the bridal party.” 

“Ah,” he nods, moving up the line for their turn. He picks up a gun, looking over the targets. “That’s disappointing. Was hoping to meet you again.” He mutters more to himself. 

She nods. “I know right.” She shoots the first balloon, and next another blue one. 

“Woah.” He exclaims, his lips forming an ‘o’. “You are good at this.” 

She giggles, popping an entire row of balloons. The owner gives them a stinky eye, visibly stressed. Seungcheol hears kids screaming in delight at her skills. And she misses all of her shots. He quirks his eyebrow at her. She just shrugs, stepping aside for him to shoot his shot.

He knows he is good at this game and single handedly can pop all the balloons. He misses his shots, making a dramatic play on how pissed he is to miss an easy shot. She gives him a side eye, shaking her head with a smile. He grins lopsidedly, setting his gun down. He mimics her shrug and they leave accepting a teddy bear as a prize. 

“So you are horrible at games.” She chimes, hugging the teddy bear. 

He is offended, “there were kids. I need to let them have their fun.” He checks the time, in 30 minutes the clock will strike midnight. 

“Mmhmm.” She hums, nuzzling her cheek on the plushie gazing at him. “I appreciate it.” 

Here his heart goes again. He just wants to scream into the void. He folds his arms across his chest or else he isn’t sure what they will do on their own. He exhales through his mouth stabilising his mind and heart. “We only have 20 minutes until the new year.” 

“Follow me. I know a place.”

“You know this is an ideal murderer's words, right?” He tilts his head, following her. 

She huffs. “Even if I wanna murder you, you can take me out with just one swing of your arm.” She points at his biceps. He swears he saw her eyes scan his entire body. 

He rolls his eyes. “Then you wouldn’t be doing anything funny to me.” 

She shoves him, he just nudges her in return. She stumbles sideways, her mouth hanging open. “See!” 

He laughs, grabbing her wrist pulling her back to his side. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” 

“Seungcheol.�� She shakes her head in mock disappointment. “Is this how you treat girls?” 

“Should I princess carry you instead?” 

His smile widens seeing her blush deepen on her cheeks. “Let’s just go.” 

They settle on a rock in a secluded area. Seungcheol moves in closer, pressing his body to her, seeing her shiver in the cold. 

“What are your resolutions for next year?” He asks. 

“Get a boyfriend.” She slips and probably realises a little late. She steals a glance at him and goes back to staring at the sky. “uhm, you know it gets pretty lonely in the bookstore.” Her hands start waving around in the air explaining herself. “And I don’t mean I’m not happy by myself, I am. It’s just that.” She groans. 

“My resolution is also to get a girlfriend.” Seungcheol offers. “I know what you are saying.” 

Silence ensues. No one squeaks a letter. What did he do? Did he really imply wanting her to be his girlfriend? Wait a minute, did she imply wanting him to be her boyfriend? God, it’s driving him nuts. 

The firecrackers startle them both. They face each other at the same time. 

“Happy new year!” He wishes her.

She extends her arm unsurely. He mirrors her, pulling her in a hug. She mumbles in his ear, “happy new year, Seungcheol.” 

His heart just dives in, crashing. He doesn’t want this to end. He can’t even crank up any ideas to meet her again. He holds her little tighter. She chuckles, resting her chin on his broad shoulder.

If only he can make her his girlfriend.  

[hmshermitcraft]

Joel seems to know a lot about the ocean, I mean have you seen the stuff in his empire? Like most aren't that ocean related, but if you look closely you see they relate to the ocean. Also there is the statue and picture of what he claims is the Ocean Goddess. He also speaks to the ocean and axolotls will bring him treasure.

Imp and Skizz has seen this happen Moreland more. They see him do it when Grian ot Gem isn't around. They see him do it with other hermits. They see him when he's alone. They guess that it's a thing he does to calm his nerves, but then they remained themselves that this is Joel. Joel doesn't really calm his nerves around people, so why does he do it around the hermits?

One day Joel asks them both to help him with stuff and to meet him at the ocean. They go, curious about what he would need and why the ocean as a meeting place. They would question it to him once they get there.

They hear a faint whisper once they arrive.

"Ah! Yes I'm bring Impulse and Skizz to see you today! You fine with that wife?"

Wife. Joel is talking to the ocean and calling it his wife? HE'S MARRIED TO LIZZIE!!! Then they think back to what he said earlier. He's bringing them both to see her, his ocean wife. They don't know how to feel, flattered, scared, confused?

Confused, they decide on confused. They stay still once they hear a response, one that sounds like someone who isn't on the server but one they have learned to know and love.

"Oh! They're here listening Joel! Of course I'm happy you brought them, but maybe next time tell them why they're here. They seem confused."

Welp, the ocean, or better know as Lizzie has seen them, somehow. Joel turns over, a bit flushed. He composes himself and waves them over.

"Welllll, uhh... nice to see you?" Joel asks, trying to remain like his normal self, failing tho.

"The ocean is Lizzie isn't it" Skizz says bluntly.

"Yeaaaaa"

"You married the ocean Joel." Impulse adds on.

"Okay, she wasn't the ocean at first. She's the Blue Axolotl turned ocean."

"Wat"

"It's a long story" Lizzie says.

"We can be told it a different time if you so wish Lizzie. Now Joel, why did you call us here?" Impulse asked, questioningly.

"Ah! Right," Joel clears his throat, "Well I- Lizzie has noticed you guys seeing me talk to the ocean and, uhh-" Joel gets cut off by Lizzie speaking.

"We want to know if you heard some of they things we have spoken about..." Lizzie responds.

"Like what 'things'?" Skizz questions. He have heard a bit but not a lot, Impulse tho, slightly flushes at that statement Lizzie said.

"Well, about you guys..." Lizzie says, the water around her flushes a bit brighter while Joel's face was bright red.

"You talked about us!" Skizz said oblivious to everything.

"Uhhmmmm, Yes!" Lizzie responds quick witted, "We wanted to ask you a question."

"Okay, may I ask what i-" Skizz was cut off by Impulse saying a strained yes.

Lizzie and Joel look at Impulse, a bit taken a back by his response but smiled at him.

"Dippledop!!! What's going on here? What do you and them know!!!?!??!" Skizz was confused at this, all Impuse did was stay silent and let Lizzie continue.

"Well, I got Impulse's answer but Skizz seems to be in the dark. Well Skizz what Impulse responded to was me and Joel talking about how we wanted to date the 2 of you."

Skizz stared for a moment or 2, then his face flushed.

"OH!!! Oh my... uhhhhhhh, that makes sense with how Joel was acting with me and Impy and how...." Skizz trails off.

"Wh-What do you say?" Joel's strained voice says.

"I-uh.... who am I kidding of course!!!"

Impulse, Lizzie, and Joel breathed a sigh of relief at that. Finally, Finally it has been done and said.

Later on, Impulse and Skizz would say sweet things to the Ocean, telling their goddess how sweet and pretty she was. No other Hermit seemed to notice what they where doing.

The Ocean would reward them woth more luck and care. The ocean seemed to favor those 3. For the fact the Ocean was their wife and girlfriend.

-‐-------------------

-May

Silly Skizziebeanspulse with Ocean Goddess Lizzie. Also Impy was hardcore crushing on Skizz the whole time as well. They so silly

They collectively decided not to mention the fact to Grian. Lizzie may be the literal ocean, but she has one hell of a cackle still. She's sure his luck will improve in the future... Maybe.

She explained in most worlds (where she has permission to reside) she still takes a humanoid form, but she's able to sneak into worlds she's not supposed to be in by... Being the ocean. Being bipedal is kinda exhausting too - being the ocean is so much better. More room to breath.

[bonemarble]

love your thoughts on Leah! how do you think her relationship could develop or what direction would it go in regards to Anna and Charles after wild sign?

interesting question! i don't think i have a very good answer for a "direction" these relationships could take, mainly because that depends on the larger story pb wants to tell: is this a story where people deconstruct the social order that has generated them or one where they try to find some measure of peace in it? i'll explain better under the cut.

charles and leah, i think, are at a point where they are starting to come to terms with their rivalry and identify its true cause: they were two lonely children starved for affection fighting each other because they couldn't fight bran for it. at the same time i don't know that this modicum of understanding is enough to build a relationship. even seeing the situation with a bit more clarity, the material causes that pit them against each other are not going to disappear, they have centuries of ill feelings between them, and i think at this point they simply don't like each other very much. even more importantly, i think there's a very good reason they are so repelled by each other and it took them so long to see the other's distress: they are very good mirrors. they both spent formative years of their lives with bran as the only (if imperfect) parental (or quasi) figure in their lives and attached the majority of their sense of self to their usefulness to him. to fully recognise the pain of this in the other would come very close to recognising this in themselves. they both know bran doesn't treat them well but they have become accustomed to it, i think. they grow some thick skin over it, shrug it off and get on with things (that's how bran wants them after all). seeing the other's wounds would make their own much more difficult to ignore. there's also an even more convoluted contortion in place: if they each believe bran is somehow unfair only towards them while he is right when he mistreats others, they never need to really question bran's judgement. feeling isolated in this unfairness is preferable compared to confronting the life-shaking truth that the person that moves the sun in your world may be doing it wrong. many other thoughts along these lines but this is already long.

leah and anna also have a mildly antagonistic relationship but of course there's less history there. my main issue with anna is that the only way to give her some true tridimensionality would be to acknowledge with some seriousness the difficulty of her circumstances. she was turned against her will, abused for years, and then latched onto her only saviour. he is a man she knows little when they basically marry and he is violent and possessive. her new life revolves around him and his complex family, with which she lives and has to deal all the time. at the same time, her survival depends on their support and protection, as we have seen how much her 'omega specialness' doesn't really ensure safety without material power to prevent her exploitation. there's no need to turn this into a grimdark novel, but if this context is not always waved away, suddenly she is not an unrealistic fairy always untouched by events: she is someone making strategic decisions to craft the best life possible out of her circumstances, finding love where she can and fighting for it. she has no true interest in anyone besides charles bc she is rightly guarded and balancing her new relationship with him already requires a lot of her energies. + he is the only person she can trust to be in her corner, without which she should be as lost as when they met (she also truly loves him ofc but this hardly explains her isolationist behaviour). she manipulates others not bc she is some quirky genius: it's the only way she sees to obtain what she needs when she is surrounded by aggressive impulsive people that are more powerful than her and feels the need to forestall their worst reactions. when bran and charles start giving her some latitude, she relaxes around them, especially as she realises she has things she can leverage (charles's love and her omega powers) to ensure a better condition for herself. but she is still wary of their flaws and recognises how they impact leah. yet leah is unpleasant. she sometimes makes her life more difficult but not really with the gravity and frequency people seem to assign her. even on good days however anna, so so smart and crafty and sneaky in navigating her circumstances, is almost annoyed by her: how has she not learned to do this better? how has she not learned to make herself likeable and dance around people and avoid confrontation to better obtain what she wants? but there's something else behind it, imo: leah might be brash and crude but she is real. how liberating that must be, to not always feel like your well-being depends on how quickly you past on a smile! the reason anna doesn't like leah, is the reason most people don't: to acknowledge leah's reactions as sensible is to eliminate the displacement of blame that allows life under unfair circumstances. to see leah's anger is justified means asking herself: why is she not angry? leah is a great mirror for her too. she can recognise her pain if she imagines her to be in a much more difficult position, someone to help from a higher standing. to confront her from a position of parity would mean to confront that position of parity: that she doesn't have any more material power than leah and her current better treatment stems from a momentary lucky alignment of events over which she has little control. bran and charles are, in their own ways, as unpleasant as leah is, only 1) anna needs them to survive; 2) since they also need her + they are not threatened by her they generally choose to treat her better. i am not saying anna should roll over and let leah treat her however she wants: leah enacts a similar mechanism with anna after all. disliking anna for being treated better is the only valve available to release her anger: it's not like she can accomplish much by going against bran and charles.

necessary prelude for me to say i don't care if leah and anna become fast friends. much as i don't care if leah and charles do. i think this dynamic is interesting even if it remains antagonistic, as long as either immobilism or change follow some logical exploration of this setting. it can truly go either way i would be ok with both.

[swiftfootedachilles]

honestly i was so mad when i watched that orgy scene in s11 and at the whole monogamy situation bc wdym they're not already monogamous without having to talk about it? as if they're not borderline obsessed with each other and also jealous asf and they constantly was being pulled apart from each other through the whole show, how can ian or mickey want somebody else after all shit they went through? i just hope that they didn't actually fuck anyone and just banged in the bathroom or smth😭also when i see fics with gallavich/omc? 💀 saw this from a popular writer and i was like hell nah im not reading ts

no for fucking real those 2 are the most jealous men to ever walk the planet

on one hand i get it. they both had insecurities that made them feel like the other wouldnt want to only sleep with them for the rest of their lives. ian is the only guy mickey canonically dates and has sex with multiple times. mickey felt like ian would eventually leave him like he had in the past also multiple times.

so in the first episode the monagamy conversation seemed normal to me. they literally both specifically say "i dont want you to fuck anyone else" and mickey was obviously just waiting to see ians answer because he wanted to do whatever ian wanted. if he did write down "open relationship," it wouldve been because he thought thats what ian wanted. personally i think he didnt write anything down because he was still trying to grasp the concept of him and ian being a "normal" married couple that communicated heathily and didnt run away and flirt with/fuck other people when they got scared.... plus he actually cant spell monogamy hes a dyslexic with an 8th grade education

so that episode was fine on its own. if they wouldve left it at that, it wouldve been a silly cute moment in their bumpy marriage. but then the writers had to make that stupid ass orgy episode. first of all why the shit would they NEED to be friends with other gay men, and WHY ARE THE ONLY OPTIONS TO EITHER BE THEIR FRIENDS OR FUCK THEM??? IT LITERALLY MAKES NO SENSE. DID THEY NOT JUST DECIDE IN EPISODE ONE THAT THEY WERE GONNA BE MONOGAMOUS?

i actually cannot stand how the writers (and the fandom by extension) cant let gay characters have their boundaries and be left alone. why the fuck do they have to be open to straight sex and orgies and nonmonogamy and being verse WHY CANT GAY PEOPLE HAVE BOUNDARIES. CAN YOU IMAGINE IF THERE WAS RANDOMLY A SCENE IN SEASON 11 WHERE TAMI ASKED LIP 'HOW DO YOU KNOW YOURE STRAIGHT IF YOUVE NEVER GOT FUCKED IN THE ASS BY A GUY?' AND THEN HE ACTUALLY WENT OUT AND DID IT??? YOU CANT IMAGINE IT BECAUSE IT WOULD NEVER HAPPEN THEY ONLY DO THIS SHIT WITH GAY CHARACTERS!!!!

the inability to understand that gay people can also have preferences and hard limits actually blows my mind. and if you dont like it youre somehow a prude or dont understand the characters. actually i fear i understand the characters more than the writers do.

and im okay with showing characters experiment! but its very telling that in Shameless, it only happens with queer characters who are pretty fucking firm in their sexual identity and boundaries. why did debbie have to fuck a gay guy in season 11. why do ian and mickey have to be verse why do ian and mickey have to be polyamorous. why did ian have to fuck a woman to "truly know" hes gay. why did svetlana have to all but announce shes a lesbian but still date kev instead of just date vee. why does this only happen to gay characters!!!

the trope of queer men specifically being easy and dtf is why the AIDS crisis was so deadly. because queer men are so open to sharing sex fantasies and sharing partners and sharing needles, right? its just a gay problem, and its better for all of us if theyre dead anyway, so lets ignore it until it goes away

maybe not every queer man needs to be written as a polyamorous verse switch bisexual-under-the-right-circumstances only-married-for-tax-reasons-not-because-they-love-their-life-partner idk! this is a haters only area so if you dont like me hating why are you here⁉️

[wiltq]

Shadows age and how it matters an incredibly large amount for his character.

(I figured out titles)

I know that we all know that Shadow reacted to Maria’s death in an unhealthy way but nonetheless made sense, but I would like to bring something up that makes it make even more sense.

I love looking at people arguing over Shadow’s age, it’s fun to see different ideas on what they think his age should be, the only bad part is that there is in fact a right and wrong answer.

I am firm believer that Shadow didn’t age in stasis(literally look up what stasis is, you can’t age in stasis) therefore being the age he was on the Ark.

Shadow was probably only around a year old(in terms of being conscious) when Maria died seeing as she looks the same when she finds him and when she dies, so he was quite young.

I know that Shadow was sort of programmed with the mentality and physical body of a teenager, but people don’t seem to understand how little that means. It shows us what his canonical age would technically be, but it hardly matters regarding his actions. Shadow being programmed all of this information instead of experiencing things to learn it will change how he reacts to things.

He did know what the concept of death was when Maria died, but he had never had time to both process that fact that she was dead and the concept of death entirely. Shadow, by all logic, would react to Maria’s death like a much younger child.

We could argue that teenagers would react better than him even if it’s their first time experiencing loss, but by then they would have already experienced many other negative emotions, over time teaching them healthy ways to react.

But for Shadow? He was told. He never experienced things like this before, he has the mental state of a teenager but the experience of an infant. Things like empathy and grief can’t be understood simply by being told, you have to learn through experience.

That’s the reason why children can be cruel, they don’t understand empathy, they aren’t old enough to even think that people other than themselves actually have feelings, it’s the reason the best way to react to their cruelty is with sadness, they won’t like it when you’re not happy, it’s an inconvenience for themselves.

If they don’t understand that you can be upset, they’ll react with more cruelty because they’re angry.

They typically learn this from ages 4+. Shadow is 1.

Shadow at this point doesn’t even fully understand that other peoples feelings matter, he doesn’t understand people can feel what he feels and he doesn’t understand the idea that people can’t understand how he feels like this, he still doesn’t understand emotions.

And then before he can learn how to deal with this grief he loses even more trust with people because he was put into stasis.

The point is, Shadow being angry at everyone in the world because of what people did to Maria 50 years ago makes more sense than if he wasn’t, other characters in the sonic franchise have lost people but they’ve had time to mature.

[vidavalor]

Hi! I’ve been reading your metas and I’ve got a couple questions cause either I absolutely suck at understanding or I was just overloaded with information

1. For the fish meta in ineffable husbands speak, what does Crowley’s “off the hook” actually mean cause you said something about hook being communication but like it’s definitely wrong if I interpreted this as Crowley thanking Aziraphale for not communicating with him ahaha

2. For the coffee meta about Aziraphale drinking coffee, what’s Crowley’s response ‘Not really’ mean? Like I’m pretty sure I’m wrong when I interpreted it as Crowley saying that he doesn’t find Aziraphale calming him down that pleasing 😭😭😭

And additional question if you’re able to fit it in here but do you think Ineffable bureaucracy actually went to Alpha Centauri or are still on earth?

Hi there! 💕 Thanks for reading & for reaching out. I'm always happy to clarify stuff. 😊 *makes tea and gets out the cookies* Answers to the three questions are below. Please let me know if this response doesn't make sense or if there are other questions that you have.

About the etymology of "off the hook" in 1941 mentioned in the Fish meta:

When someone has gotten into a bit of trouble but then the person with whom they're in trouble has decided to let them carry on without consequences for the actions, we would say that the person was let "off the hook", right?

In the scenes prior to this one in 1941, we saw that Crowley had gotten into a bit of trouble with Mrs. H, as she had paid him for whiskey that he was unable to deliver. To help Crowley, Aziraphale volunteered to do his magic act in exchange for Mrs. H letting the lack of whiskey go. Mrs. H agreed so it was really Aziraphale who got Crowley off the hook with Mrs. H.

When Crowley thanks him for it when they're back in the bookshop, he says: "Cheers for getting me off the hook." In choosing that term among the others he could have used, he's created a couple of puns/innuendos in the sentence and made the thank you also a knowing bit of flirtation.

"Off the hook" as an expression has two, main roots: fishing and telephones/communication. It is figurative language that developed from people comparing that to a caught fish escaping the hook of a fishing line. So, Crowley's thanking Aziraphale by comparing himself in the situation to a caught fish who was trapped and had no visible escape from the line until Aziraphale stepped in and got him off the hook. There's a metaphor happening here, though, as well, because of what it is was that Aziraphale helped Crowley with-- dealing with the broken bottles of whiskey.

If you go back to the earlier part of that Fish meta and what we looked at regarding what's suggested about the situation around them first having sex and then you look at the euphemistic use of alcohol as related to sex throughout the story-- which is a bit easier to see in Crepes, the post that preceded Fish-- then what we're saying is that Crowley sees the same metaphor that Aziraphale does happening on this night in 1941 and that's that Aziraphale coming to the rescue of Crowley and his broken bottles of whiskey/alcohol in 1941 = metaphorically, the first time they had sex in Rome.

Crowley in a jam with some broken alcohol bottles-- whiskey, no less, when his signature drink is Talisker, which is a single malt scotch (scotch being whiskey made in Scotland)-- and Aziraphale being how he got off the hook in 1941 is a bit metaphoric for their origins in Rome, where, as we looked at in the meta you're talking about, we looked at the heavy suggestion across different scenes of Crowley's trauma-induced situational anorgasmia and Aziraphale helping him to heal from that. The "off the hook" part is a fish/sex-referencing joke while the way Crowley says the line is such that he's saying "getting me off" in there as well, for amusing maximum related innuendo. It's acknowledging the metaphor to the past that is understood between them because of that shared history at the same time as it is also about what's happened in 1941.

Where this crosses into communication, too, is that the other origin of "off the hook" that came up independently from the fish origin but kind of alongside it is that "off the hook" also comes from old telephones. For ages, as we all know, telephones used to be connected by cords into wiring in walls and you had to make sure that the phone part of your phone was in its cradle/receiver when you were done with the prior call because, if you didn't? The next phone call then wouldn't be able to come through the phone.

If someone was trying to call you and your phone wasn't fully hung up and ready to receive it, it would just ring endlessly on the caller's end and not ring at all on the end of the would-be recipient of the call. The call wouldn't be able to happen. This was known as someone's phone being "off the hook"-- meaning, it wasn't able to receive calls and the people involved couldn't talk as a result of that. It refers to the inability to communicate.

Communication is verbal but it's also physical for sexual partners and talking, in Ineffable Husbands Speak, is incorporating different definitions of communication across other scenes. It's wording, it's speaking more directly, it's sex as a whole and different forms of talk in bed-- if it can be communicated, it's talking. The word talking has those multiple meanings to them, some of which I got into as part of this meta about Crowley's "we've been talking for millions of years."

This is about equal in the etymology of "off the hook" to the fish-related history of the phrase. This is what gives it a little extra oomph when it comes to phrases that Crowley would choose because he's talking about Aziraphale having helped him with a problem that night that they both see as metaphoric for Aziraphale having helped him through having a disordered relationship with sex. They put the phone back on the hook. The phrase he chooses in flirting while thanking Aziraphale for the assist that night is one that references sex via both fish and the good communication that made, and still makes, that possible.

There's also that, ironically, if you do that good communication in bed right, you eventually get to a point where forming coherent words in general is an impossibility so that's a good version of off the hook that could be a way of looking at it, too. 😉

I didn't mention it in the meta you were reading but, given that a literal caught fish that doesn't wind up getting off the hook is facing death, there is also an element of sex-and-death happening in this as well. Since you seem to like these metas 😍, I'd recommend this one on sex-and-death in their speak, if you would like another one and haven't already seen it.

There is a third meaning of "off the hook", which is to say that something is excellent, incredible, on trend, etc... it's something that is massively exceeding expectations. This is American slang in origin, popularized from rap music, but is not that old as a phrase. This meaning of off the hook was not in existence in 1941 and isn't really applicable to the conversation here so I didn't bother with it in the Fish meta. It was the fish innuendo that Crowley was going for in that scene.

2. About Crowley's "not really" in the Six Shots of Espresso scene:

Wording like this is like a game. The object is to have a whole conversation on the surface about one thing where the words chosen to have that surface-level conversation are such that they're also talking about something else under the surface using those same words. This is very much the case in the Six Shots of Espresso scene.

Crowley has to reply to "does it calm you down?" with something that contains a level of truth and that satisfies the conversations on both levels at once with whatever words he chooses but Aziraphale, amusingly, has poked a little fun at the fact that Crowley's coffee-as-sex innuendo here means that the surface-level thing they're talking about is espresso, which is caffeine, which can actually be anxiety-inducing. [This while the opening scenes of 2.01 show that they're both feeling overly anxious of late as well.]

Aziraphale jokingly sets him up a bit with the teasing "does it calm you down?" because Aziraphale knows that six shots of literal espresso is an anxiety attack in a mug, even if sex overall does calm Crowley down for a bit. The literal coffee definitely doesn't calm him, though-- that much espresso doesn't calm anyone down lol-- so Crowley is now set up to have to answer in the negative because of the surface-level coffee part of the conversation.

The reply is "not really" because drinking six shots of literal espresso definitely doesn't calm him as it's a ton of caffeine but having six shots of euphemistic espresso also revs him up, too, just in a different way. Not the anxiety of the literal coffee but it gets him hot. It's true on both levels that it's calming-- overall and afterwards-- but not in the moment. To say that it did calm him down would have been to imply that the sex puts him to sleep and/or that he can be sated when, ultimately, he might be briefly sated in the short term but never overall.

Crowley always wants more coffee. 😉

3. re: where did Gabriel & Beez go?

I think this is one of those things where they could do any one of three or four different options and they all would work in the story. Whichever they choose will feel right when we see it. Story-wise, they could put them in Alpha Centauri or back at The Resurrectionist or just coming off a rollercoaster at a fair somewhere or any number of different things related to their story, and any of them would fit well.

Gabriel and Beez basically were written to "anywhere but here" territory for a few minutes in the story because The Final 15 never would have happened if they had still been there and it needed to happen for the overall story but they're going to come back into the story very quickly. We'll probably only be with them in that location for a literal minute or two when someone (I'm currently betting on Uriel) goes to get them and tell them what's happened.

If it were me, I'd put them in their Alpha Centauri-- alpha/beginning; cent/one hundred/money... the bar with the dollar bills on the walls where they first heard "Everyday" together and used it to talk about how they felt about one another...

...and I'd save The Resurrectionist Public House for a shot in the end scenes of Crowley and Aziraphale having joined Gabriel and Beez at their table by the jukebox to consume some food and intoxicating liquor together. 😊 We'll have to see what happens, though.

[damnbluewires]

She set up her instruments for a routine autopsy, and realized she has run out of gloves. Having no one else in the facility to fetch them for her, she headed out to the supply closet down the corridor. The lights were muted, but she liked it that way, being used to stay overtime. The work was indeed grueling and demanding, but this, staying this late, was out of her own volition. Not to be a walking stereotype, but she much preferred the company of the cold, dead cadavers to the company of her cold, and emotionally as good as dead coworkers.

Not mentioning, that the cadavers were far better conversationalists as well.

She didn't choose the profession because of her gift, it was more like the gift chose her because of her profession. Yeah, that didn't make sense to her either.

All she knew is that one day she was opening up some old man's chest cavity to investigate the potential cause of death, and the bastard started hitting on her.

She had nerves of steel, never even as much as grimaced during all of her training, despite how bad the smell was, but this, she must admit, made her yelp and stumble onto her metal tray. She eventually was just glad nobody was there to make fun of her. Apart from the man with a scalpel still poking out of his ribs.

She learned that day, that sometimes she can see the corpses rise from the dead, for exactly ten minutes, before collapsing back, that time for good. What surprised her more, was that most of the people who were brought to her morgue were already more or less prepared to die, so they were just glad to have one last opportunity to have a chat with her.

She adjusted to that new aspect of her job rather quickly, never once thinking of quitting. She would stitch some poor sod's guts back into their body, while talking to the other next in line, about nothing in particular. She would listen to odd stories, treasured memories, and what it felt like to die. It was rather nice, all things considered.

She mused on that, as she grabbed a new box of gloves from the supply and headed back.

The one she had today was some bloke they found in the alley in a pool of blood. What was odd, is that he had no injuries on him. She would have to ask about that.

She put the gloves on, rechecked the instruments, took a scalpel, and started to feel for the right muscle to open the chest from, with practiced grace. When she found the right spot, she began the incision, and heard an inquisitive and amused: "Not even going to buy me a drink first?"

"I don't drink, thanks. Half a year sober." She answered, unfazed as ever. She wanted to continue the cut, but realized it's probably impolite to do so, and raised her eyes at the man, who was dead silent.

He was quiet for a while, and then uncertainly mumbled: "…Congratulations?"

She smiled at him, "Thanks! It has been hard to resist drinking something you know you shouldn't, but it just felt so damn good. You know?"

"I might be aware of the feeling, yes… But, hold on, why am I the stunned one? Why are you not running away, screaming?"

"And miss all the fun? Plus, that honestly sounds exhausting, and I have some more people after you, so I'd rather not waste that energy." She rationalized, while the man tried to collect himself. What the fuck?

"Right. Because the corpses coming to life is just another Tuesday for you."

"It's Wednesday, actually," she beamed again. "But, yeah! Pretty much." Is this hell? Was he finally in hell?

"Are you a demon of some sort?" There was no other explanation.

"Aw, flattery? And who was asking about a drink first?" Yeah. Hell. Most definitely.

"But, no, just your average clerk. Say, how did you end up in that alley? I've been dying to know." That's it. He had to get out of there.

"I have to get out of here."

"Oh, no, you don't. I don't need another runner, thank you very much."

He swooped off the metal bed and bolted to the door. Which was locked.

"Look, I know you are confused, I shouldn't have started with the jokes, but I really need you to go back to the bed. You will collapse somewhere on the street in less than ten minutes, and I really don't need another cop on my ass."

He paused his attempts to get the door open. "You have a cop on your ass?"

"Had one in my ass also, but that was long ago."

He slowly turned at that, and stared at the mortician, who was still just sitting idly on her stool with an innocent smile.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you will be dead again soon, and won't be able to tell anyone."

"I have been dead for a while now."

"Oh, really? Would love to know about that, if you come back and sit down. I'd offer you a coffee, but I will have to be the one to clean up the mess later, and I would honestly rather not."

He did come and sat back down.

"I don't drink coffee anyway." He said, almost to himself.

"What do you usually drink then?"

"Blood of my enemies."

"Ha! And i thought i was the one with dark jokes around here." He didn't say anything to that.

"So, back to my original question, what were you doing in that alley?"

"Drinking the blood of my enemies." He said deadpan.

"I complimented you way too soon, that joke was only funny the first time." She said, and he swears, she almost sounded disappointed. He should not care. He really shouldn't. But…

"You should try it. Tastes better than any alcohol in the world."

"It does sound good, I can't lie. But I bet Becky's blood will be gross no matter how much I hate her. She's on that new 'raw meat' diet. She adds butter to her coffee!" She made a disgusted noise and a face, and his head spinned a little. Must be from the disgust as well. Must be…

"I can understand raw meat, but butter in coffee? Really? Some people just do not care about what they consume, I swear to g-" The word stuck in his throat. He forgot for a second he couldn't say it. But the mortician seemed to not catch that.

"I know, right! But I do prefer my meat cooked. I honestly don't know how I'm not a vegetarian yet. The sight of blood doesn't make me hungry at all."

He quirked his brow at that, "Not even a little bit?"

"Not in the least. Just reminds me of my job. I do love my job, though, comes with its perks."

"Like what?"

"Like talking to you."

She smiled at him yet again, and something warmed inside the place where his heart used to be. But her smile vanished, as she raised her arm to check the clock. The ten minutes must be coming to the end, and she was dreading being in silence again. Alone. Always alone in the end. Only these rare moments of genuinely nice company is all she ha-. She froze. Twelve full minutes have passed.

It was the man's turn to smile at her confusion.

"What's wrong, doc? Forgot to put in the time of death?" He seemed to be amused all over again. "You are a bit too late for that. About two centuries too late."

She looked up at him, for once lost for words.

"I told you I was dead for a while now."

"So, in the alley…"

"Yes, I was actually drinking the blood of my enemies. And it did have a strange aftertaste. Maybe that horrid diet trend is spreading." He mused.

"You are not a ghost?"

"Ghost?! I am deeply wounded by that assumption. I am something much better than a mere ghost." He lowered his voice seductively. "I am a vampire."

She blinked. "…Like in twilight?"

"Oh for fucks- Why is that the first thing people think about? There was not a single vampire in that whole production."

"There are vampires in movie production?"

"In good movie production - yes."

"I have so many questions."

"So how about that drink? Bubble tea sounds good? There is a good place just across the road, and it is still open, I know the owner. Meet you there in ten." And with that, he winked, transformed into a bat, and flew out the window.

She sat there for a while. And then snickered, starting to get ready.

"Curiouser and curiouser…"

okay I had a BRILLIANTLY UNHINGED story idea for someone to write

a mortician has the magical ability to speak with the dead so she doesn't realize anything is unusual when one of her corpses sits up and starts sassing her

only to discover that her conversationalist is actually a vampire

and said vampire very confused about why the mortician isn't freaking out, normally this prank gets 'em every time

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia

Feel free to ignore if this is unwelcome, but have you ever thought about publishing traditionally to sublimate your income and draw in new readers? I know you've self published two books already and that you didn't feel like they did very well, but maybe the experience would be different if someone else was in charge of marketing and all the other business stuff?

Obviously everyone's experience is different but as an author myself who's published both trad and self, traditional publishing has been a completely different experience and has allowed me to focus more on writing because I'm not the one responsible for advertising/marketing/financing anymore.

There are a ton of literary agents nowadays that want to represent diverse and lgbtqia+ fiction, some of them even in Australia.

Websites like Reedsy, AgentQuery and Jerichowriters have extensive directories to find literary agents.

(This is lengthy folks so I'm putting the other two parts (and my response) under a read more! Also putting it under a read more so the anon can skip my response since it's very 'here's all the reasons I can't do this' and they just might not want to read that, lmao)

(continued -> )

Trad publishing houses have better resources for marketing and helping authors get more attention than any self publishing website could.

Obviously most authors, unless they're really prolific, don't get a huge advance (the average is between $1000 - $5000) but getting your foot in the door or on the traditional publishing "ladder' so to speak can have a huge benefit for your serials. Because it gives you more exposure. Plus it's in the agent's best interest to find a publishing house that accepts stories that contain darker themes and negotiate the best deal for you.

For some reason places like Amazon and the like accept and keep up more "dark" books that are traditionally published than they do with self pub ones. Maybe because they have more respect or leniency for publishing houses? I have no idea. But you could use this to your advantage. I think I remember you mentioning that writing novels felt quite isolating to you? But you already have 2 completed novels (3 if you count the fae one) that you could potentially revisit or rewrite to your liking and get them represented by agents.

You already have a loyal readership and that's very attractive to trad pub houses and agents.

As well as trad publishing, you could also make s simple website that doesn't require much maintenance. It could be just a landing page that says something about you and then has links to your tumblr and patreon where you're more active. That way you increase the chances of getting your serials found by additional readers and also come across looking more "professional". Not that you're not professional now. You are and I admire you greatly, but the unfortunate reality is a lot of people still judge by appearances and some will be more drawn to an author's website than a tumblr page, at least at first. So I think having a simple landing page would open up another door for you to benefit from.

Trad publishing is work but definitely not as much as self publishing, and you can continue on with your serials. Getting an agent can be time consuming but I personally believe the pros outweigh the cons and I also believe that your stories would be a huge treasure to the growing lgbtqia+ market. Seriously there needs to be more!

These are just suggestions and thoughts and like I said before, feel free to ignore. But I know you've mentioned wanting to grow your career in the past and I genuinely believe you can do so with some of these pathways.

~

Okay, my response. Posting this because firstly I think the suggestions could work very well for other authors reading this! And I hope they take the advice to note, and secondly because I haven't talked about this for a hot minute so let's talk about it again.

So the TL;DR is yes I have considered traditional publishing. I have actually been traditionally published in short stories, poetry, and also had my art published on covers and re: interior illustrations. But my Fae Tales works got soundly rejected when I sent them to publishing houses that were doing open calls for that sort of material. I've never heard back from an agent and I never expect to, heh.

~

Now for a bit more detail

I have been traditionally published before (it's how I got my writing out there long before I ever wrote serials), and yes, I have approached publishers with my writing since then. In fact Tradewinds was written for the traditional publishing market, and it got soundly rejected, and then shelved. The reasons it was rejected ran the gamut from 'I don't like that these fae eat humans no one is going to relate to these people' (while the editor then went on to publish vampire books idk) to 'There's too much worldbuilding you can't expect readers to keep up with this' to 'Your stories are too long, no one wants to read characters talking all the time.'

Meanwhile in my online serials I was getting feedback like 'my favourite chapters are the ones where the characters just sit in a room and talk' lol.

The traditional publishing world is also not quite as utopian for most authors as you make it seem. I'm friends with a lot of authors who are traditionally published because that's the world I came from, and unless they're solely in KU and doing generic rapid release formula romances, none of them are making that much money. Certainly not enough to live off. It may have been that you were very fortunate, anon, but I know hundreds more traditionally published authors that left trad pub to make money, and I know about 5 in trad pub personally who are making enough to live off of.

Only one of those is really writing what she truly loves to write, and even then, publishing houses have refused to commit to her entire fantasy series (and she's regularly in 'Top 10/20 Women Fantasy Authors in the World' lists) and forced her to finish the series prematurely. Something I never ever have to worry about in self pub.

The reality is that in trad pub these days, you're still in charge of most of your marketing unless you're one of the big earners for the publishing house. In fact I'd be expected to keep even more of a social media and marketing presence than I do now. I don't do almost any of the things you're supposed to do as an author in marketing to be appealing. I don't have a Facebook author account. I don't have an Instagram author account. I don't maintain or regularly send out newsletters (which automatically puts me in the like 0.05% of authors who make money doing this lmao).

I don't know if you ever have looked that closely into what m/m publishing houses expect from most of their authors, but the newsletter swaps, cover releases, review circuits, interview circuits and more are fucking grueling. We're expected to be responsible for our advertising and our marketing to a fairly massive degree. Some traditionally published in m/m still have to pay for their release blitzes out of pocket. These publishing houses, by and large, do not offer advances. You say most authors don't get large advances. I don't think most authors in this arena get offered advances at all unless they're somehow miraculously acquired by a Big 4.

We're expected to have an already established social media presence because of that (that's why it's so appealing to publishers that we have social media presences already, anon, so we can market, they can save money, and we still see only a minimal cut from the royalties).

And you still have to focus on your finances, because publishing houses like Dreamspinner straight up didn't pay a whole bunch of authors for so long they destroyed careers. They still haven't paid some of their authors. And they're still running a business and people still buy their books.

Trad publishing houses have better resources for marketing and helping authors get more attention than any self publishing website could.

This is true if a) they're a big publishing house and not an indie publisher of which most LGBTQIA+ publishing houses are and b) they're willing to use them on you.

The authors that make the most money get the most resources. If they believe you're going to earn back your advance and move thousands or tens of thousands of units per book, then yes, you will get those resources.

I have been told so many times now - even from friends who run publishing houses, including one who works at HarperCollins - that my work will never be mainstream enough to have broad appeal. They literally told me not to keep trying re: trad pub, because that was my dream for a long time. These folks have given me rock solid advice in the past, it's one of the reasons I'm doing so well now via Patreon + Ream. But they were like (paraphrasing) 'you don't write 60-80k romances and you don't want to and that's not your strength anyway, you're multi-genre which makes you hard to market, you write psychological and literary trauma recovery which is hard to market, you write character studies which are hard to market, publishing houses often don't commit to series anymore if the first two don't move units and if they pulled the plug you'd be contractually obliged to never finish that series until your contract was up.' I could go on, but it was like yeah...actually. Fair.

For some reason places like Amazon and the like accept and keep up more "dark" books that are traditionally published than they do with self pub ones. Maybe because they have more respect or leniency for publishing houses?

They do, but most publishing houses want very formulaic dark romance which is not what I write.

I have a 300k omegaverse slowburn that still hasn't had any penetrative sex in it, anon. Publishing houses don't want that. They don't expect anyone will wait 4 full length novels to get to literally a single penetrative sex scene.

But you already have 2 completed novels (3 if you count the fae one) that you could potentially revisit or rewrite to your liking and get them represented by agents.

If I rewrote them to my liking, trad pub wouldn't want them. They'd be too long! I think agents etc. take one look at me and go 'oh god, no thank you!' I'm not an easy sell, by any means.

Plus I'm very e.e about all of that with the knowledge that they then give me only about 10-15% of the royalties on the sales, vs. self-pub where I get around 70%, or subscription where I around 80% of it. When someone subscribes to me, they don't have to worry about 85-90% of their subscription fee going to a publishing house. I don't have to think about how many thousands and thousands of books I'd have to sell to make the same amount that I do now via subscription.

As well as trad publishing, you could also make s simple website that doesn't require much maintenance.

If it was that simple, I'd be doing it. I don't mean this in a facetious way, I mean it in a: I've made a lot of websites, in fact I run one at the moment not connected to my writing (I've been running it for so long it's now in its 20s and can probably has a driver's license). I find it so tedious that I barely remember to check in on it. But forgetting about it means there's always maintenance to keep up with when I get back to it.

Running websites is simpler than it used to be, but it's still not simple. There's hosting and hosting costs, there's server changes, there's back-end maintenance etc. I'm considering it for down the track, but there's a reason I decided to go the route of Patreon over my own site. There are authors (like Christopher Hopper) who actually do subscription through their own domain, but it's a lot of work.

Even placeholder sites are still work. They need updating, details change, story titles changing etc. Maintaining my Patreon + Ream About pages is enough, they're always both a little out of date, lol.

Not that you're not professional now.

Oh no, I mean from a 'traditional publisher looking at me to see what kind of candidate I am' I'm really not though. Like I said, I don't have the newsletter (100 subscribers who get one newsletter a year is not really a newsletter), I don't have the Facebook/Tiktok/Insta/Twitter/Bluesky/Threads accounts, etc. I write multi-genre across multiple steam levels, and I'm allergic to writing serials shorter than 150k. One of my best performing original serials was an 800k contemporary story with no sex in it but a lot of BDSM. It can't be marketed as clean or sweet, it's not high steam, an entire chapter is 'boy saves snail from rain.' Also he was cruel to animals, so not exactly what I'd call a sympathetic main.

And yet that story did so well for me via Patreon + Ream, because people want the kinds of stories that publishing houses generally don't want and I happen to be writing them.

Trad publishing is work but definitely not as much as self publishing, and you can continue on with your serials. Getting an agent can be time consuming but I personally believe the pros outweigh the cons and I also believe that your stories would be a huge treasure to the growing lgbtqia+ market. Seriously there needs to be more!

Anon I just literally do not believe an agent would want to represent me. I have 0% belief in that. Not from a self-deprecating angle but from a 'I am not a good bet for the trad market' perspective. From a 'I have so many friends who are trad pubbed authors who stare at me like I'm insane for writing serials as long as I do' perspective. From a 'professionals in the industry have told me it's amazing I'm doing so well in serials because there's no way they'd take a risk on what I'm doing' perspective. From a 'just because it's queer and diverse doesn't mean it hits literally any other thing a trad pub is looking for' perspective. I've been doing this for 10 years. There are agents who represent work similar to mine who know what I'm doing and wouldn't touch me with a ten foot pole. They're not missing out on a trick, they know I'm not broad appeal, and they're right.

Also the only way I'd have the energy to manage trad pub is by quitting serials. And honestly, I never found trad pub all that much fun while I was doing it for non-novel stuff. It was fine, and it is nice to have my stuff out there, but it was a ton of admin and a lot of going back and forth between people who really only care about marketing a product, and that's great and what they excel at! But I'm too disabled to turn this job into something crushing just to potentially make more money, I'd rather just quit and go back onto a full Disability Pension. I can't see any way I still get to write the stories I want to write, in the way that I write them, and be remotely appealing to a single reputable trad pub or agent.

Also *gestures to everything in this article*