#there are so many scenes i want to write.....

[infamous-if]

I love how infamous is a masterpiece of unoriginality. It takes every possible rock band cliché, sticks them together with minimal effort, and calls it a story. The whole thing feels like a rejected script for a bad soap opera that somehow managed to weasel its way onto the internet. And don't even get me started on the emotionally exhausting ROs no one asked for. Let’s be real, the romance options in Infamous are just moody messes waiting to drain you of any energy. Want to play therapist to a tortured soul with commitment issues? Or babysit someone whose emotional stability is as shaky as the band’s career? Welcome to Infamous, where all the ROs are there to make you question your life choices—and not in the fun way. The Plot? Nonexistent, don’t worry. Who needs an actual storyline when you can just string together a bunch of angst-filled scenes and call it a day? The author must’ve thought, “What if I just didn’t bother with a plot at all?” So instead, you get a collection of sad, disjointed events that vaguely resemble a story if you squint. Writing quality? Eh, who needs it: From clunky dialogue to forced drama, the writing in Infamous feels like the author just threw words at a page and hoped for the best. It’s practically a masterclass in “good enough” writing—if by “good enough,” you mean “barely tolerable.” It’s almost like the main goal was to make Infamous as unoriginal and shallow as possible. Like, did they even try? Probably not. The whole thing reeks of “I read one too many fanfics and thought, ‘Hey, I could do that!’” Spoiler: they couldn’t. In short, Infamous is less a story and more a chaotic, poorly executed mess that somehow escaped the author’s drafts folder. If it’s supposed to be a game, the only real challenge is making it through without rolling your eyes.

I love how infamous is a masterpiece

you think my story is a masterpiece?

[yuukirita]

Now I want to see sentinel's interactions with baby bee.

Bonus that everyone in the captured scene stares at him with murderous intent ig he messes with baby bee

See this is why I want to write that fic one day- or at least parts of it.

I would... make so many people angry in the good way. Because Sentinel is an evil asshole. And I will always and forever depict him as such or worse.

Anyhow:

[aboutcustardcreams]

Until next time

Agathario x reader

The scene in the forest where Agatha delivered the baby is living in my head rent free and I just couldn't resist the urge to write an os about it. Rewrite, actually. It's my first Agatha's fic, so I'm pretty excited. Hope you guys like it <3

warning: angst, a touch of fluff

The baby’s soft cries echoed in the forest, as a reminder that a life has just begun, tender and innocent. Agatha was perched by a tree, only wrapped in a light and crumbled vest. Her cloak dropped somewhere a few feet away. The sweat and the pressure at her lower abdomen finally subsided, making her feel like she could breathe properly again. There was blood between her legs, staining her inner thighs, flooding and then drying out to her knees. Everything kind of hurt, her eyes were heavy, but her senses stayed alert. 

“Move,” the Green Witch muttered in a placid order. 

You looked into her eyes, slowly shaking your head, as you stood in front of Agatha, shielding her and the baby, “No.”

The witch felt a wave of relief wash over her when she heard your simple, yet categorical answer. She was in no condition to fight against Rio on this, despite the fire in her eyes and the weak magic already tingling her digits. 

Rio sighed, “we aren’t doing this. You promised–”

“I know what I did,” you interjected, closing your hands into fists, “But I changed my mind. I am allowed to change my mind,” you pointed out, voice thick with emotion. You couldn’t bring yourself to say goodbye to a child you didn’t even hold in your arms yet. “I-I can’t let you take him,” turning around, your eyes focused on the baby’s tiny head peeking out of the little blanket Agatha wrapped him in. “I mean, he’s innocent. It can’t be his time…”

“My loves–” 

“Just let him live,” Agatha interjected, her voice both exhausted and desperate. She never felt so scared before, “Please, don’t take him from me.” 

When he clasped his tiny hands in her long wavy hair, her lips brushed against his head, “I love you,” she smiled, rocking him ever so gently, “I love you so much.”

Your heart melted at the sight before your eyes. Rio felt a slight indecision tugging at her chest. She never thought the first time she would hold her son would be to carry him in the afterlife. It felt cruel. It was cruel. But he was sick, he could feel his disease, hovering like a shadow around him. 

“I’m not giving up. Not yet,” you insisted. 

“You talk as if I didn’t wish for him to live,” Rio retorted in disbelief. 

“Oh, spare us, Rio!” Agatha snapped. “You’re the Green Witch, it’s not like you’ve got no power at your disposal. And yet you’re choosing the easy way.”

Rio couldn’t believe her ears. “The easy way you say? Are you nuts? He is my son too, Agatha!”

You frowned at their bickering. Last thing you wanted was to indulge in this fight. This moment was supposed to bring joy to your lives. A child was born, your child for fuck’s sake. Why couldn’t you three be happy about it? Why couldn’t you cherish the moment? He was sick, but you could still try to save him. Work together to make it possible. You, Agatha and Rio weren’t common witches after all, and if there was someone able to find a loophole, it would be you. 

“Then start acting more like a mother,” Agatha retorted, voice dropping in a whisper. 

“It’s not my fault I’ve got responsibilities, Agatha. I never asked to be like this,” Rio’s voice wavered a bit, her heart thumping in her chest with painful insistence. 

“My loves, please we shouldn’t–”

The sound of Agatha’s mocking laughter prevented you from finishing off that sentence. “What about the responsibilities towards our son? He should come first.” 

“Our son is sick, and in order for him to live, many will have to die. It will cause absolute chaos.”

“So be it. All I care about is my son.” Her icy blue eyes sparkling dangerously as she said those words with force and a bit of selfishness. 

You considered Rio’s words; a bunch of conflicted emotions passed through you. Rio wouldn’t say those things if she knew there was another way out of this. But maybe if she couldn’t find it, you could, if only you were granted more time to figure it out. 

“If you take him, I’ll hate you forever,” she insisted rather calmly now. 

“Agatha…”

Color drained from your face at those words. You knew she didn’t mean that. She couldn’t. When a muffled sound slipped from Rio’s lips, a mixture between a choked sob and a scoff, you drew closer to her, your hands immediately finding her cheeks. You weren’t supposed to pick sides. You were a family, and it should stay like that. 

“She doesn’t mean it,” you said both softly and firmly, thumbs brushing against her cheekbones. She rolled her eyes and you took a firmer grip on her face, so that she would focus on your eyes, “Rio, listen to me, she doesn’t–”

“I do.” Agatha deadpanned, cutting you off.  

You hissed, “Quiet, Agatha.” 

Rio let out a quiet humorless chuckle, when the other witch grumbled something under her breath. 

“We are just scared, my love. We want this child to live, we need him to, do you understand that?” 

When your voice croaked slightly, her hands tangled in your hair and pulled you closer to her, “I know, baby. I know,” she cooed, getting lost in those wet lashes of yours.

You swallowed thickly, “I don’t want to say goodbye.” 

She leaned in and brushed her lips right under your eye, her magic immediately mingling with yours. Your eyelids fluttered close and you let out a faint mewl. 

“I can only offer time,” she said, once she pulled away, so that she could meet both yours and Agatha’s eyes.

You arched an eyebrow confusedly, “what does it mean?”

“How much time?” Asked Agatha. 

She shrugged, as if she didn’t know or she couldn’t really say. Her behavior only served the purpose of making you more nervous. Crossing your arms over your chest, you knew that you’d have to use this time to master your own powers. To make sure that whenever Rio intended on collecting your son’s soul, you’d be ready to fight. Not her of course, but the process of Death itself. You were a necromancer witch, whose powers were completely opposite to Rio’s. While her job was to keep order between life and death, your powers could easily break that balance if you wanted to. Meaning that you could resurrect life forms.

“You know I’ll still try when the time comes, don’t you?”

Rio looked at you and despite your words, she smiled, “I know, love. Thought I’d hate you if you decided to interfere, but honestly, I hope you win.” 

It was your turn to crack a smile in her direction. “It’s not a competition, Rio. All I want is to keep our child alive.” 

She hummed, without voicing her concerns out loud, not wanting to add more to yours and Agatha’s shoulders, “You two will make a good job.”

You and Agatha exchanged a confused look, “you sound like you’re leaving us behind,” she trailed off. 

When Rio averted her eyes, lips pressed in a thin line, you were sure you felt your heart shatter. 

“No, she’s not-” you looked at Agatha, hoping to have got it all wrong. But when you spotted tears welling up in her eyes, you realized the truth. 

“Rio, please, don’t do this–”

“I must. I can’t be seen around him,” her tone was sad, yet you could still feel the love filling each word. You kept shaking your head in denial. “Might be difficult to believe but there are women above me I respond to.” 

“The Fates have no power if you don’t do your part,” Agatha pointed out, hoping to be right.

Rio smacked her lips in return. “It’s not that simple. Atropos, the eldest of the three, could give me a really hard time if I disobey.” 

You clenched your jaw at her words. The thought of handing your son’s life in the hands of those crones made absolutely no sense to you. They shouldn’t be entitled to take the life of an innocent just like that. You were a necromancer witch, meaning that you could change things. For a long time you buried that part of yourself within you, because of the things you’ve been told all your life. Interfering with the natural order of the things was wrong; your power was an abomination, but at that moment, all those warnings sounded like bullshit. 

Rio sensed your distress, her fingers brushed yours, “I’ll keep him hidden for as long as I can.” 

Then she turned to Agatha and pointed at the baby in the silent, almost timid request to approach him. She still had to see him properly after all. Agatha nodded and moved the child so that he would face her, tucking a bit of the blanket underneath his chin to better expose his tiny face. 

Rio brushed a strand of Agatha’s hair first, “you did amazing, my love,” she praised her, causing a light brush on the witch’s cheeks. She couldn’t quite believe she, you three created such a beautiful baby boy from scratch. 

“Hi” she cooed, now focusing on the newborn. You leaned against the tree, the same tree Agatha was perched by, and looked from above the sweet interaction going on. Rio’s fingertips grazed over his tiny, perfect nose. “I can’t promise you a life devoid of challenges and pain, but I confide in your mothers to always make sure you’re happy and loved,” she lifted her eyes to meet yours and Agatha’s. A watery smile tugged at her lips, “And trust me, you’re so so loved already, little one.” 

You wiped the corners of your eyes and so did Agatha. 

“We should name him Nicholas,” she said after a moment of contemplation.  

Knowing the meaning of the name, you felt like you couldn’t agree more on it, “Nicholas Scratch,” you added, “cause we made him from scratch.” 

Rio turned towards you, while her fingers played with the baby’s tender little hands. “That’s perfect, my love. Isn’t it, Agatha?”

Agatha swallowed thickly, already mourning the loss of Rio, despite her being still there. She nodded, and then she tangled a hand in Rio’s hair, pulling her closer to her face. For a moment she only leaned against her forehead, inhaling her sweet scent of flowers. Then the Green Witch took the initiative and placed her lips on top of hers, savoring with extreme gentleness, the plumpiness of Agatha’s. You ran a hand in Agatha’s hair, fingers stroking her scalp to let her feel your presence too, while your eyes darted on Rio. When Agatha let out a choked sob in Rio’s mouth, overwhelmed by everything that had just happened in such a short time, the other hushed her softly, “it’s going to be okay.”

Neither you nor Agatha were sure about it, but you had no other choice than to believe her. 

“Take care of your moms, Nicky,” she later added, placing one last kiss on his forehead and then on Agatha’s. 

Once she stood up again, she focused her attention on you. In an ideal world, you’d be her enemy, because of the powers you possessed. And yet, against all the odds, you became her lover, one of the most important persons in her life. 

“Don’t be sad…”

You nibbled on your inner cheek so hard you drew blood. With your arms crossed over your chest, you struggled to spill a single word because you didn’t trust your voice at the moment. Your entire body was shaking on the inside. Agatha never saw you look so fragile before. It felt like a stab in her chest to witness her family fall apart like that. 

“You’re asking too much of me,” you kept your eyes down, focusing on the tip of your boots. 

“Nena, look at me,” Rio tried to meet your eyes, but you purposefully kept it down, shaking it stubbornly and hopelessly. She smiled, feigning hurt in her tone as she continued, “You wouldn’t let me go without a proper kiss now, would you?” 

Despite your best efforts, you let out a small watery chuckle at her playful teasing, “I hate that you’re doing this.”

“It’s for Nicky…” She said simply. 

Agatha buried her face in the baby’s naked shoulder, finding comfort in his pure and unique scent. 

“And I am sorry,” when you finally met her eyes, Rio cupped your cheeks, “so sorry you don’t get to be his mother. It’s your right to be.”

But Rio’s lips curled into a reassuring smile, despite her sadness. “Don’t be. I’ll get my turn eventually��  and for now, I’ll be his–”

“Please, don’t say shadow,” you muttered, and that elicited a small chuckle out of the Green Witch. If you turned around you’d see Agatha’s lips stretch into a smile too. 

“Guardian, then.”

You hummed and licked your lips, tasting the saltiness of your own tears in your mouth. 

“Now come here, I waited enough–” 

The witch pulled you closer with ease. Your body crashed into hers but it was okay because she was ready to hold you. 

Agatha could see Rio’s face as she hugged you. She spotted a single tear slip down her eye and her stomach lurched. When you two pulled away, Rio took a few steps back, pulling the green cloak over her head. She lingered a few seconds to memorize the scene before her. You dropped on your knees and landed next to Agatha. Her head immediately lolled on your shoulder, and you turned yours to place your lips in her hair. 

Rio waved softly, then blew a kiss to each of you, “Nos vemos, mis amores.” 

You and Agatha nodded quietly, watching the Green Witch disappear before your eyes. Agatha let out a silent sob when she did; your arms immediately wrapped around her and the baby in a protective embrace. 

“We will be fine, Aggs.” 

When Agatha met your gaze, eyes full of hope and vulnerability, you took a mental vow to protect her and Nicky whatever the cost. 

“Yeah,” she echoed with a smile you immediately reciprocated. She closed her eyes when you leaned in to brush your lips against her still clammy forehead. 

When the baby started crying again, you two pulled away and focused your attention on Nicky. He looked rather pale for your liking, a little warm too. You knew what he needed and so did Agatha. You placed a tender kiss on his cheek, Agatha’s lips curling into a soft smile, while you did. Then you stood, hands on your hips, eyes roaming around your surroundings like a predator looking for its prey. You didn’t want to do this, but you were just a mother trying to keep your son alive. 

When Agatha attempted to get up, you interjected, “stay here for now. Let me do the rest.”

Her expression shifted from confusion to worry, “You shouldn’t be doing this alone.”

“Agatha,” you merely rolled your eyes at that, “You just had our baby, I think it’s not the end of the world if you sit this one out,” your voice laced with a hint of playfulness despite the things you had to do. It’s not that you never killed before, cause you did. Not in cold blood though. You forced yourself into believing that it wouldn’t be much different. Once a wise person told you, a witch must do anything in her power to survive and there’s no shame in that. You were looking at her now, as her attention remained fixed on you. 

“Be careful,” it was supposed to sound like an order, but the softness in her eyes betrayed her. 

You chuckled lightly, “I always am,” you concluded, pulling the cloak up over your head. 

[fxtalitygod]

EPILOGUE. ~Survival~

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, gore, graphic imagery, theme/depictions of horror, body horror, swearing/language, suggestive, pregnancy mentions, mentions and acts of suicide, arguments, mentions of adult murder, Pet name (Little Flower 1-2x) implied Stockholm Syndrome, grief imagery, images/depictions of dead bodies, murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint), implied incest mentions

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: Today marks the day I finish this series. Guys, I cannot believe it took me two years to finish this damned series. Do not get me wrong, I loved writing it, but boy, it was a major pain in my ass. As corny as it sounds, thank you all for sticking with me throughout this series. When I originally posted the first chapter, I did not expect ANY attention whatsoever; it was just a self-indulgent thing I wanted to write because I wanted a better representation of (Y/n) where, yeah, she may not be the strongest. However, she still knows how to make do with what she has and make that her strength. I also wanted to give a more realistic relationship with the pairing. As much as I love Sukuna's character, I did not believe him to be a character capable of "true love" but a character that values others but not in the way you might think. I'm talking literal value, currency value, and benefit value. I wanted a more realistic take on the story because I did not know how many more historical "Kuna," "Suku," or "Kunie" stories I could take. No hate for those who write it or those who enjoy it; it just isn't my personal cup of tea. I like true crime and dark stories (I have this serial killer project that I'm stoked about because I know I will get my group an A+), so I tend to enjoy those darker sides, which I believe is why I like Sukuna's character so much, he just feeds into that side of me. There are some of the fantasies I enjoy where Sukuna is non-canon, such as AUs and all that, but when it comes to JJK's storyline or his historical AUs, I tend to fall short of enjoyment of that type of fantasy.

Anywho, thank you all for sticking around and enjoy the epilogue. I hope it was worth the wait. I may or may not have written three times because my perfectionism kicked in every time I proofread it, and I found something I did not like and scraped half the chapter. I bet I'll find a little thing here and there when I post this. Still, it won't be anything noticeable, something along the lines of my tags and probably my TW, though Im usually very on point with those kinds of things. Still, it always seems that AFTER I make the post, I really start to notice things even after proofreading it 50x.

P.S. I plan to do a behind-the-scenes post on all my original ideas. I have worked on this little project for two years, so you bet I had alternatives. Feel free to send me asks or messages asking me about things you are curious about, and I will gladly answer.

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules• • Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII • Pt. IX • Pt. X • Epilogue

The market was bustling at this time of day. Workers were heading home from a hard day of work, rushing through the roads as they grabbed ingredients and materials for their households to prepare their meals and homes; everything was so normal...and if she were being honest, it felt strange. The confined life of the temple had practically become a comfort, so when presented with a slice of normalcy, it was foreign and, if she were being honest, alarming as well.

Having so much freedom was intimidating and overwhelming– the fear of having something good and it being taken away was a looming thought that brought many anxieties.

Years have passed since that fated day, Sukuna Ryomen's downfall. Since the fire and the slaughter that had immersed, Sukuna's actions had remained silent. There were whispers of sightings and rumors that the curse user had met his demise, but she knew better. Sukuna Ryomen was unkillable, and if anybody had truly caught a glance of him, they would be dead before they could live and tell the tale.

"Mama."

The world seemed to stop as the word processed through her head. Blood ran cold, and breaths of air seemed to come in at a faster rate. The woman turned to the little girl holding her hand, causing her heart to shatter.

"Darling, I told you not to refer to me as your mother, remember?"

The question remained as a statement rather than an inquiry as if refamiliarizing the child with a rule she had been reacquainted with on multiple occasions.

"I-I know that, but why can I not? You care for me like a mother, so why can I not call you my mother?'

"We have discussed this before, child," the woman sighed, "I believe it unfair to be taking the title of your actual mother."

"Well, if my real mother had not given me away, it would not be like this..."

Pausing mid-step, the caretaker held her breath, controlling the emotions and memories that flashed through her mind. The girl's sentence rang through her head, eliciting a feeling she was not commonly met with... aggravation. With no hesitance, the woman's minimal steps turned into longer strides, her grip even firmer on the young girl's hand. Getting to their place of lodging was more vital than anything, as she wanted to avoid discussing such sensitive matters in a public setting. Prying ears were close enough in such a crowded setting.

Upon reaching the home, the stand-in mother pulled the child inside before shutting the door. She swiftly bent down to the young one's level and took the child's shoulders into her hands. The little girl was shocked by the woman's reaction, staying silent and still as if afraid of what was to come next.

"Child, I will not hear you speak such false claims of your mother. You do not know the sacrifices she made to get you here."

The girl's expression of fear shifted from dread to shame. Her face was red from embarrassment after she was caught for her prior statement. However, as children do, she made it her goal to justify herself.

"What is the point of her sacrifice if she left me. Did she not want to be around me?"

"She did not leave you; if she were still in this world, trust me, she would be right here with you!"

The caregiver's words came out with little thought; all she knew was that she would not tolerate the little girl's false assumptions. However, now that the words spilled out of her mouth, she began to regret them. Seeing the tears well up in the girl's eyes made her wish she had phrased it differently.

"What do you mean?"

The caretaker cursed under her breath before inhaling through her nose, exhaling softly before speaking.

"You deserve the truth, my dear, and the truth is that your mother sacrificed her life to ensure you had a good one. She loved you so much that she valued your life more than hers. You might not understand this now, but that is a mother's love." The woman's breath stuttered, "She loved you more than you could ever know. I will not claim the title as your mother for that reason."

The girl was overwhelmed with emotion, only knowing how to express it through tears. The woman could not bear it and brought the girl close to her chest, embracing her to give any form of comfort that might help– it broke her heart to hear the child's quiet sobs.

After calming down, the kid spoke, though with some light chokes.

"W-what s-should I call you then?"

The warden took a sigh as she thought over her charges question. In all honesty, she had no idea what to say. What answer could she even give her? She could not allow her real name to float between the child's tongue as it would expose her identity. What name could she let the child speak?

"Hmm," the woman loosened her embrace, looking the little girl in the eye with a soft smile, "What do you think you should call me?"

The girl tilted her head, wanting more elaboration.

The lady chuckled softly, "What do you think my name should be, child?"

The caregiver had expected the girl to take some time to come up with an answer; however, the kid took no hesitation when she blurted out...

"Makato-san!"

Silenced engulfed the home as her caregiver failed to respond.

"Makato-san, I'm going to the market. Do you need anything?"

Another prolonged stillness as the young lady waited for a response.

The girl scrunched her brows in concern, extending her neck to look further into the room as if the individual she was looking for would appear. With the growing silence, the young adult searched the home for her guardian.

"Makato-san?"

She searched and examined the silent home with slight panic before finally stumbling upon the older woman, staring blankly at the floor she was kneeling on– unresponsive as she continued to stare.

With caution, Y/n's daughter reached her hand out to her caregiver's, placing it on the woman's shoulder. The response she got was one she had not expected.

The Makato turned suddenly, grabbing onto the young woman's wrist with an ungodly strength that even the girl was unaware of. This caused the girl to wince in pain as she tried to pull her arm away. Her arm was turning a light purple from the lack of circulation, proving the grip's vice.

Despite her fear, the charge could only feel concerned as her caregiver made eye contact, tears welling up in her eyes. It stayed like that for a couple more seconds before she snapped back into reality, gasping as she was presented with the image of her actions, quickly letting go of the young lady's arm.

"I'm so sorry, my Dear. I did not mean to...I was just..." The woman paused, swallowing her following words; however, her stutter did not disappear: "D-D-Did you need something, m-my, Dear?"

"I was preparing to leave and was going to ask if you needed anything from that market," the girl paused, choosing her next words carefully. Makato-san, you've been acting strange as of late. Is everything alright?"

The young woman was old enough to recognize the hesitance in her caretaker's features and the short lack of response.

"Whatever do you mean, Darling?"

"Please do not take me a fool," the youthful female voiced before sighing and looking at Makato in pity, "I'm worried for you, Makato-san. Ever since the refugees from the other village came, you have been behaving irregularly."

The refugees.

To say that their arrival was a shock was an understatement. At first, Makato thought nothing of it until the newcomers began to tell their stories. Their village was burned in a monstrous fire by a "crazed" sorcerer, and their home was now unsustainable to live in as it was left entirely in shambles. Despite this information, Makato thought little of it as there had been few stories of criminal sorcerers destroying homes, most being "inspired" by Sukuna's actions after his sudden hiatus. It was not until an elderly woman, who she happened to hear at random, described the appearance of the sorcerer.

"He was monstrous, the vile thing; he had four arms and two faces if you do not count that horrid mouth on his stomach. I watched both of them grin as it chewed on the remains of my eldest son." the elder choked and sobbed as the memory came back to taunt her.

Makato's heart dropped to her stomach. Rushing home in search of her charge, she found the girl working on her studies. Seeing the child she worked so hard to raise brought relief, but it was not long before the memories and visions began to haunt her. Sometimes, she would see you standing there, looking down at her, motionless and silent, with a pained, pitful look.

She hated it.

When you looked at her that way, she felt weak and vulnerable—as if she were failing. She was not as cool and calculating as you were, nor as confident or intimidating. Had you been here, you would have more than likely been able to disappear from society and find a nice, quiet life for yourself and your daughter. But you were not here; that was the problem– you were just a figment of her imagination.

Even then, she wanted you to stop looking at her that way.

Sometimes, she was left in her privacy and saw your vision appear to accompany her. It would drive her mad as she tried to convince you, even herself, that she was doing enough. She would speak into the silence of the room and get no response.

"What else could you want with me? I am doing everything I can!"

Silence.

"I am happy. She is happy. We are happy. Is that not enough for you?"

Silence.

"He thinks she is dead– he thinks I am dead! There is no possible way that..."

Silence.

"Please, stop looking at me that way. I am capable of doing this...please have faith in me."

"Makato-san?"

Pulling herself from her thoughts, Makato tracked what the girl had said earlier, not wanting to worry about her charge further.

"I apologize for my irregular behavior, my Dear. I can assure you that I am alright. I have had a lot of stress these days regarding the refugees. I want to do my part to assist them, but I have been running myself ragged and am just...tired."

The girl hesitated, not wanting to accept her caretaker's excuse, but she knew pushing the subject would not do her any good, so she nodded in understanding. The worst part is that Makato knew your daughter was aware of her white lie, but she would not admit it for some slim hope that the girl honestly did not know. Sometimes, she wished your daughter had not inherited your intelligence and perception.

"Do you need anything from the market, Makato-san? I plan on leaving soon to aid the refugees."

"No, I believe we have enough supplied for quite a while. All that I ask of you is to be safe, Darling."

Your daughter agreed, letting a soft smile slip onto her face before hugging Makato. The woman accepted the embrace before experiencing a wave of realization. Intelligence and perception were not the only things she inherited from you; she happened to be a real beauty as well.

"My Dear, if you plan on seeing that boy of yours, speak your peace now and know that I only want you to be safe and happy."

The girl struggled to find words before lowering her head in embarrassment, her face bright red with fluster.

"You are of age now, and I want you to know the responsibilities that rest on your shoulders."

"Makato-san, I never meant to keep it a secret. I just...I was afraid of your disapproval."

The more experienced woman could understand where she was coming from. Long ago, she was in the girl's position. However, she was never allowed to pursue her love due to the circumstances of her arrangement, but that does not mean she did not try. Despite her efforts to keep her relationship together, it was all for not in the end. She was given away as a sacrificial lamb to a monster.

Your daughter had a chance of love, and the caregiver would not squander it for her. She wanted your daughter to have a chance at a relationship she never had. Maybe it was questionable on her part due to the circumstances of her mission, but she did not entirely care. She just wanted your daughter to have a normal life.

She knew that was what you had wanted for your child.

"I do not disapprove, Darling. I just want you to be happy and to be careful."

"I promise that I will Makato-san."

There was a pause of awkward silence before the young woman embraced Makato once more.

"Thank you, I'll be back soon."

Makato smiled as she watched her ward leave the home. She had no problem admitting she was happy for the girl, but something deep within her told her it was a bad idea. It was hard for her to come to terms with, but she had an itching feeling that did not settle with her.

The world was perfect at the moment. Your daughter had put smiles on faces from her charity and was now being rewarded with a proposal for her marriage. She hugged her lover, showing her love and adoration in any way appropriate for their stage in relationship. If you were here, you would be beaming with joy, giving consent to the marriage with no hesitation because this is all you could ever want for your girl, and it would have been all you wanted for your twins.

You never had a chance of love and a happy life; seeing your children be able to pursue their lives to the fullest, especially in romantics, would have been considered a blessing to you.

"This is the happiest day of my life, honestly, but have you received my guardian's blessing?"

The young man chuckled, caressing her cheek reassuringly, "I plan on coming over for dinner tonight to ask for your hand properly if you will have me."

The girl could only agree eagerly through her expressions, unable to speak in fear of shouting instead of politely inviting him. Hugging him one last time before parting to rush home and prepare their meal; however, a chill went up her spine the moment she left; everything felt cold, and she could not explain why. Maybe it was the lack of his embrace, but she had never felt that way. There was only one good reason she could name.

Her nerves were getting the best of her...

"What if Makato-san declines."

The young woman's moods changed throughout the day as she prepared for the most significant evening of her life. One moment, she had the goofiest, filled with overwhelming joy, but there were other times when she would find herself chewing her nails from anxiety, and right now, she was having one of those times.

"Dear, stop that. This behavior is far from healthy. What has you behaving this way?"

"Nothing, everything is fine. I suppose I'm just hoping dinner will turn out acceptable tonight."

"Dear, please do not insult my intelligence with these excuses. What is going on that you are not telling me?"

"Well, I—" there was a pause. How was the ward supposed to say anything without giving anything away?

"You what? Spit it out, child, you are worrying me."

"I cannot say. I am sorry. But do not worry, please; something good is about to happen. Please trust me on this."

Makato chewed the inside of her cheek. She did trust her ward, but she had this gut feeling, this sickening feeling that she could not name. Maybe it was just her nerves getting the best of her, so she pushed it aside. She trusted your daughter, the only trustworthy person that Makato knew.

"Alright... is there anything you need help with?

The younger one smiled sweetly, taking her caretaker's hands in her own.

"No, I have it handled. You have been so stressed the past few days that you should just relax. Tonight, all your worries will be washed away." With that, she parted to continue her work for the big news. She was all but too excited.

She was also naive.

She was a sweet little girl, but she was naive. To think all of Makato's worries and problems would go away by simply relaxing, through sweet and simple gestures, was an innocent way to think. It was how Makato raised that girl because she wanted that sweet little girl to have that luxury. There were times she wondered if she had made the right choice, but then she would remember what pain looked like and what too much experience could do to a person.

No, she made the right decision. This is what you would have wanted.

Right?

Yes.

Makato went, and she sat as the young woman finished her final preparations for the meal. The girl looked more stressed than ever, rushing at the final threshold, but it seemed that preparations were finished and she was filling time. She found little things to do that held no significance. She was in her head, making Makato question if everything was truly fine.

Then, the footsteps could be heard. He was here, and everything was going to change. Life was going to change, and it was between her and that door. The biggest day of her life was only a dinner conversation away. So she opened the door and was presented with an image she thought she would never see or experience.

"We must leave. The village is under attack, and we do not have much time."

The smell of smoke was strong, and embers could be seen from a not-to0-far distance. The world came crashing down, and she could not say a thing. She could only stand there with an oblivious smile.

"What?"

Fear, confusion, anger, any negative emotion she could feel, she was feeling. This was not how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to get a blessing and marry the man of her dreams. Why now? Why this? This could not be real, there was no way.

If the world had crashed down for your daughter, the heavens collided into the earth, dissipating everything in its path in Makato's eyes. The older woman stood, no thoughts running in her head as she strided to the boy, grabbing him by his garments

"You tell me now, and you tell me true, boy! What did you see?!"

Her sudden actions left him too stunned to speak, but after some shaking and calling for his attention, he found himself capable of a response.

"Makato-san, what is happening?" It was like everything hit her at once, but she was still trying to understand why it was happening today– why it was happening now at the most crucial moment of her life.

"I do not know what it was, but it was a man of stature. He was disfigured; he had two faces and four arms. He came without warning, started flames, and began a massacre. His face was cold, as if he felt absolutely nothing."

There was no doubt in her mind that it was him, no doubt her former husband as reigning terror; however, based on the emotionless state of his ambush, bloodshed was beginning to lose its flavor. It was comical, but as much as it had some humor, this was no joke. This was all too real.

Makato grabbed your daughter's shoulder, pulling her out of her shock. Tears were in her eyes, looking at her caretaker pitifully.

"Makato-san, what is happening?"

She was naive, and being naive was safe, but being naive was also unrealistic. Makato gave the girl a sheltered life, eliminating the possibility of danger to the girl. That was no way to live.

"Your father, that is what is happening."

"What?"

And the shock returned. Makato made an effort to avoid mentioning Sukuna in conversation, only mentioning you in light memory. As far as your daughter was concerned, her father did not exist...until now.

"That so-called man is your father, Ryomen Sukuna. That is the man who drove your mother to eventually kill herself," A pause, licking her lip as she readied herself to elaborate, "Your mother sacrificed herself to protect you from him. He drained the life from her and left her no choice but to die, but she gave it purpose. She died to give you a life, a life away from him."

"I-" Your daughter was at a loss for words. Everything was hitting her too fast.

"I thought I was doing the right thing by keeping it from you. I wanted you to have an everyday life, but I should have noticed sooner or later that the truth would reveal itself and that he would present himself one day."

There was nothing to say, only to exchange expressions of fear and dismay.

"W-Well, what do we do now?"

"We run."

Taking the two charges, Makato grabbed whatever necessities they needed to start a new life. She had been planning this since the day she ran from the temple. She would admit that now, with a third party, it would be more complicated than she had intended, but they would make do.

They exited the home frantic. The smell of smoke became more potent, and the embers were closer than before. The flames became more evident as they spread. Any entrance to the main road would have been a route to death, but Makato had never planned to use that path. There was a back trail through the woods, one she had discovered when your little girl was merely five years of age.

They ran towards the thicket, avoiding as many obstacles as possible. Things were looking smooth, with hardly any disruptions. It was almost serene, but that was the issue. To have such tranquility was a nauseating notion for mayhem being at their backs.

It was too quiet to be safe.

And that is when she knew to push the girl and her lover aside, veiling their presence with her technique before everything went black.

Ringing...

Ringing...

And more ringing...

The lights were brighter, and the smoke and ash came straight from the source. She woke up coughing and gasping for air. For a moment, she thought she had been dreaming, immersed in a life that was not hers. Maybe she was waking up, back to her village, back to her parents, back to the life before she got caught in that awful nightmare.

"I am surprised that it was you, of all the women she let live." Sukuna started, looking down at what he believed to be the scum of the earth.

No, it was all too real. His voice registered through her head instantly despite not hearing it in years– at least in person. She had repeated memories, but sometimes she wondered if she had deformed his voice from years of not hearing him speak down on her. Turns out she remembered it accurately. It still managed to send chills down her spine and make her wish to be six feet under the ground.

"I was probably too forgettable for her to ever really care about whether I lived or died." Makato spat.

"That is reasonable enough, but that would not serve her memory well and rather insult her intelligence. I will say that, if anything, my Little Flower was too clever to let such technicality slip from her. She probably pitied you and your fruitless womb, so she gifted you with a child for you to care for in her absence. And knowing your broken state, she probably knew you would be eager at the opportunity."

Makato scowled, turning her gaze to the ground. How dare he speak of you in such a way. He said that as if you were on his level, as devious and conniving as he was, and claimed your actions were selfish when they were the opposite. You did this for her daughter, not for yourself. If you had it your way, you would be there.

"How old is she now?"

She refused to answer, turning her gaze back to the dirt. She did not want to give him the satisfaction of belittling her more than he already had. It was humiliating, but she still had some dignity and a promise she wished to uphold.

"What does it matter? She is dead. (Y/n) told you herself that she was gone."

A sharp pain was felt at the back of her head as he pulled her hair to force the woman to look up at him.

"Do not picture me a fool! For a woman whose last words claimed her daughter was gone, she left me the most humorous smile. I know that age of the girl, but I would rather hear from you, bitch, how long you have been holding her captive."

No response.

"Answer me!" Sukuna snarled, pulling at her scalp once more.

"Nineteen years of age," Makato smiled. Why? Do you wish to act as a father now? Well, you are too LATE! While you were out throwing tantrums, I raised her child, which you would not know how to do without being given exact handwritten instructions."

"On the contrary, you let her potential slip, and now she is nothing but another womb to breed. Unfortunate, due to the heritage of her mother and myself. However, a womb is still useful regardless."

Out of anything Sukuna had done, out of anything he had said to threaten her, that was the most horrifying.

"You are a disgusting bastard."

"Do not speak as if you can fill her shoes as if you have her confidence. You would not be in this position if you were half the woman she was."

"You are right; if I were half the woman she was, I could have easily manipulated you and have you play the role of the arrogant man with an ego so big, he does not notice the knife pointing at his back," A pause as she licked her lips, swallowing to try and quench her dry throat, "Everything that woman did was out of fear, much like everyone else; however, she knew how to tick your interest and she used that to her advantage. Honestly, I am ashamed. I only noticed it when she told me about her plan."

A twitch in his eye, he was irritated. It was known through body language and the knowledge of his nature that he wanted to tear Makato apart, limb from limb, until her body was unrecognizable.

"What? Afraid to face the truth of her decision. She could have run away with ease; she could have killed you, but both of those options would have been considered a mercy for you. She took away the one thing that you valued: herself. That must eat at you a lot."

With a swift motion, he scooped the former wife from her neck, squeezing her throat as he raised her to face him eye-to-eye.

"You are a worthless bitch who cannot even reproduce, summing you up to nothing. What is your worth?"

Nothing but the struggling breaths of the woman attempting to pry herself from this monster's grip.

"Exactly, you are worth nothing."

Darkness, wherever they were, was dark. The girl and her lover were still in the woods, alive as well as they could manage. She could only remember running into this place before being shoved into the dark area. She felt the ground around her and reached her arms out into the pitch black as she tried to navigate this strange place. It scared her.

"Makato-san? Where are you?"

No response, only silence.

It was dark and frightening, and she did not know what to do. What could she do? She could cry, so she did; she cried as she tried to find her way back. This had to be some kind of night terror. She would wake up, and she would be at that doorway, welcoming her lover into their home, eating their meal, and then sharing the news. Her lover would get her caretaker's blessing, get married, and live happily ever after, right?

Dreadfully wrong.

Instead, a hand reached out and pulled her out of the darkness. The world was still unlit, but moonlight and the flames dancing in the distance could be seen nearby; however, she was not a part of the conflict.

She was about to scream, cry for help, anything to get attention drawn to her location, but was stopped by a large palm to the mouth.

"Shhh, my love. It is only me. It will be alright."

For the first time that night, she felt genuine relief. Turning her head to see her man, she looked down at her disheveled features. She weakly smiled, moving herself to embrace him. It all lasted for a few seconds until she realized the missing member of their little group.

"Where is Makato-san?" she whispered.

The man looked down, not daring to respond. She attempted to make eye contact, but he would only look away.

"Where is she?" she insistently asked, but louder.

" I do not know; a couple curse users emerged from the woods. Makato shoved us into the ditch, and when I came out, she was gone."

"Well...Well, we must go look for her."

A grasp to the wrist effectively stopped the girl.

"No, I cannot risk losing you, and I know Makato-san would agree. She would not want you going out to risk your life to save her."

How could he say that? How dare he say that! What right did he have in this decision?

"Then you do not know her." she scowled, trying to withdraw from his hold, but his hand did not budge.

"Then why would she tell you everything had she not already predicted the possibility that she might die."

"Because... because...she needed me to know because if we were going to run away, I would need to put in my own weight by knowing our threat...yes, that was it! Now let me go!" She tried to reason, but not to him—herself.

Denial.

"It was a confession! As if she were lying on her deathbed, she confessed everything to you. She wants you to move on, knowing there are dangers like your father. She wants you to kno-"

"Well, she may not be dead yet, so we have to try!"

With whatever strength she had deep down, she broke free from his grasp, sprinting towards the village and the flame. She could hear him following her, but in her mind, she wanted to believe he was doing it because he could see her reason. He would help; she was sure of it.

She was almost there, and she swore she could see the silhouette of her caretaker, but then she found herself on the ground. It was only for a second before being lifted into the air, a hand covering her mouth as she got further from her destination.

Kicking, muffled screams, and the distant cackling of flames could be heard. She bit her partner’s hand in an attempt that he would let her go from the sudden pain, but he was resistant. He merely grunted and winced while continuing his journey back. But then there was a halt.

There she was, Makato, thrown onto the ground. She could see her in the distance. The woman looked weak but very much alive, and she was right there. The daughter kicked, shoved, jabbed, and bit even more, trying to get loose. However, her lover would not budge because although he could see Makato, he could also see the shadow hovering over the woman, the shadow your daughter was refusing to look at.

Then the shadow disappeared, and the dreadful monster emerged, Sukuna Ryomen, hovering over Makato with disdain. Watching as she tried to crawl away but failed miserably. She was fighting, doing her best, but her fate was inevitable.

Death was the only option, and death is what she got.

Ryomen Sukuna caved into his impulses, ripping her limb from limb until she was unrecognizable. The daughter watched, horrified, as the woman who raised her was mutilated to nothing but a pulp. What sort of sick joke was this? She remained silent as she tried to think of who would pull such a childish trick, watching as the image got smaller until nothing was left. Eventually, it was just a tiny yellow dot in the distance and nothing more; all she could do was look at it.

"Promise me you will live."

Breath in

Breathe out

Breath in

Breathe out

Breath in

Breathe out

Breath in

Breathe out

Breath in

Breathe out

Breath in

Breathe out

Breath in

Breathe o-

"NOOOOOOOOOO!"

The scream echoed through the dark room, and you tried to comprehend where you were. The walls were closing in, and the air was too thick to breathe. It felt like like suffocation.

What was this?

Why now?

Where is this?

Why is this?

How is-

"Y/n!"

You snapped back into reality, frantically looking at your surroundings to notice you were in your bedroom.

"Y/n, what happened? Are you okay?"

The silence was tense as you sat there, trying to remember your nightmare. You thought long and hard, but in the end, you had nothing.

"I...I don't know."

You heard a sigh, a hand rubbing your back, and another reaching for your cheek, wiping the stray tears you were unaware of.

"Do you want me to stay with you tonight, again?"

Some of you wanted to say no, but the opposing side longed for it. You stared at the clock on the wall before you, reading the time. It was a little past midnight, and you had hardly gotten any rest. You had a big day tomorrow, and rest was crucial to get through your day. God knows the things you would do if you did not properly sleep.

Turning to your twin brother, you weakly nodded, "Okay."

He did not hesitate to tuck you under his arm as if in an attempt to protect you from any harm to come your way, to shield you from the nightmares. However, despite his presence, it was like a part of the dream appeared that you remembered but didn't at the same time.

"Do you think I'll be a good mother?"

"Why are you asking me that?"

"Please just answer me...for my sanity."

Your brother sighed, resting his cheek on your head as he rubbed your shoulder to comfort you.

"Y/n, I have no doubt you will make a great mother. Come on, let's go back to sleep. I'll stay here, and everything will be better in the morning."

"Promise me it will be better in the morning."

"What?"

"You don't have to hold up to it. I just...I just want to hear you say it."

"I promise it will be better in the morning."

"Okay..."

New series?? Sequel???Maybe, but first, a little break ☆~ (˃̵ڡ‘˶ )

Taglist (Thank you all so much for being a part of this series):

@littlemochi @mistalli @youngbeansprout @bbylime @bangtan-forever1479 @idktbhloley @izayas-rings @o3o-aya @pyschopotatomeme @persephonehemingway @otomaniac @meforpr3sident

@fourcefulcupid @nezuscribe @my-simp-land @zukuphilia @niya729 @spiritofstatic @bbittersw33t @kashasenpai @decaysan @honeybaegle @ygslvr @outrofenty @esposadomd @ali2426 @anmath @yazzzmints @lovingnahida @sincerest-one @rosemaydone321 @j0dios @k-ki3rd @maki-zenin1944 @shadowywizardarcade @ae-mius @xiangping-28 @loaves4me @aloraaaxcrystalzx @chariotwaves 

[wemlygust]

In my experience the best fiction does not follow up the first situation with an emotionally similar situation, even if it's escalated. At least not too many times in a row/for too long relative to the length of the story. That can end up feeling like the same situation stretched out way too far. You can only get away with that for so long before the reader just acclimates and gets used to it and none of the excitement feels as exciting anymore. Instead, my favorites alternate moods between scenes. Just had a super stressful chase scene? > Now we have a relaxing and/or funny scene to take some of that tension off. Just had a really emotionally fraught conversation scene? > Now for the shocking action scene, or the methodical investigative scene, perhaps. Just had a slow, leisurely, peaceful scene, where everything is great and the characters are happy? > Here comes the Cascade of Problems! Just had a cascade of problems? > Here is the safety, everything is good now! Oh wait, > here is the oh god my friend died during the cascade of problems scene, everyone is mourning now, tearjerking scene. Now that you've made everyone cry, it's time for > a really funny scene that makes the characters laugh even though it still hurts, or another action scene, or a thoughtful conversation scene, or maybe a romance scene. Next, maybe a good scare, then an action scene, maybe a couple more humorous moments mixed in, maybe some philosophical moments, whatever. Add another romance scene. Then bring the dead friend back to life (yay!) or don't and instead resolve that thread otherwise by having the characters come to terms in some sense with their death. But wait, betrayal from stage left! And so on. What emotion you switch to doesn't matter too much, as long as you move on to something, though not without abandoning the context of the previous scenes or the character development throughlines and suchlike. It doesn't have to be literally every other scene that the mood changes, and you don't have to include every possible mood, you can just pick a handful that contrast well; the point is just that the mood has to change and shouldn't just be the same the entire time, to keep things engaging instead of boring and one-note, imo. This is more true the longer the work is. A really short story can get away with being just 1 thing, but the longer a story gets, the more a one-note angst-fest or series of fight scenes or whatever gets exhausting instead of fun. This is why there are typewriter-rooms in Resident Evil games. The peaceful moments enable the horror in the other parts of the game, and there are similar peaceful spots in other horror media - even though and because horror is all about scaring and/or horrifying people. Like, the alien isn't right there chasing Ripley for the entirety of the movie Alien - the most intense scenes are spread out and interspersed with mystery and interpersonal drama and suchlike. Without the typewriter rooms, or an equivalent moment to breathe in other horror media, people either get overwhelmed and stop, or they acclimate and stop being scared. The peace and safety is needed in order to bring down the terror. Tl;dr: vary the type of situation. And sometimes the situation can be nice. Just keep changing it up. With faster or slower switches depending on how you want to do your pacing, and how long the story is overall. Also I actually think it's also fine to totally discard this type of writing advice and just, like, write slice-of-life feel-good fiction sometimes. Our culture shapes the kinds of stories we usually tell, and genre shapes that further, and it shapes writing advice like mine and that of the people above me in this reblog chain, because of what we have experience reading and what advice we have heard ourselves and so on, and it's okay to just throw all that out and do something else, too. Including whatever thing you've been told specifically not to do. Do that, if you want.

The point of fiction is actually to put that guy in a situation™️, and he might try to tell you the point is to then get him out of the situation, WRONG, second situation

[bloomeng]

I feel like something a lot of people miss when discussing DC canon is context.

(Warning: Mentions of canon sexual assault scenes)

So today I saw a discussion about Alfred's fanon perception versus canon reality. I wouldn't say op was criticizing people for thinking of him as a sweet old man, merely just pointing out that he's canonly not so innocent and it goes unaddressed. He was the one who nudged Tim into the Robin mantle and he was the one who stripped it from him and gave it to Damian without asking. There's a whole plotline about how he had a daughter that he abandoned. He was the one who put up the "soldier" plaque memorial. All of these things are true, however, I don't think it was the writers' intentions to paint a lot (not all) of his actions as negative. In fact, the writing often goes out of its way to paint Alfred as a martyr. That doesn't make his actions right, nor does it mean that someone is wrong for being upset with him, but it also means that people aren't stupid or wrong for interpreting his character as this beacon of virtue. It's also notable that most people are probably more acquainted with his animated and film adaptations where he hasn't done any of the things I've listed.

Context is always important when analyzing media, but it is ESPECIALLY important when discussing DC because of the sheer volume of authors writing for a single character.

This is why there are so many arguements about whether or not Bruce is a bad father. When you have so many authors writing a character for close to a century, you're going to have inconsistencies and their takes on the character will contradict. We can go in circles bringing up issues that prove either side, but it's futile. Everyone is entitled to their feelings towards things that happen in canon, but I don't think it's fair to pass ultimate judgement based on something that was often written by one shitty writer.

Now disregarding DC canon is something the fandom is selectively good at, but the curtesy is not extended evenly. Going back to Alfred for a moment. A legit criticism of the writing is that he abandoned his daughter and that isn't really addressed outside of the issue that introduced it. And I think the reality is that DC often recognizes their mistakes after the fact and isn't equipped to handle the conversations they start so they quietly retcon. Which isn't great, but I also think it's a silent mercy. See not addressing something is bad, but putting out offensive media is more detrimental IN MY OPINION.

This is even more evident when it comes to DC's history with depicting sexual assault. They constantly back themselves into corners. I really appreciated that Gail Simone's Batgirl run retconned the Joker's sexual assault against Barbara. SA is something that is important to talk about but it's also something that needs to be treated with care. What happened to Barbara was not a productive conversation. There were so many gross undertones of the Joker specifically sexually assaulting her. Same with Talia sexually assaulting Bruce. There are very real racist undertones. There is a time and place to discuss male victims and the way male rape victims are written off, but the story is not concerned with having that conversation. So now we’re not only not having that conversation but we’re also stereotyping and villainizing POC women which also has real world consequences.

Now this next part might get me boos from the audience but to me this also extends to Dick and Tarantula. I know a lot of people want DC to acknowledge what happened, but to that I'm like why? Devin Grayson is a notably bad writer when it comes to Dick. There are racist undertones to having Tarantula sexually assault Dick. Devin is literally known for making Dick Roma for fetish reasons. Before this Dick Grayson was a white character, who was already written to be flirty and sexual. These are all important things to consider about the context of the writing. I think it would actually be best if DC did what Gail Simone did with Batgirl. I think it’s unfair to not give these WOC characters the same treatment of understanding when their actions are shitty because of shit authors.

Real world context is vital for understanding these fictional stories. Batman can't kill because that would mean they would have had to be constantly introducing new villains and it would be less child friendly. Robin was introduced to the story because they were trying to market to children. Batman continuing to recruit children is about marketing to kids. The hyper-focus on Dick's romantic life was in part an effort to fight gay allegations. These are all important factors to consider if you're discussing DC critically.

Like realistically yeah it sucks so bad that Alfred and Bruce allowed children to fight crime. But it's also notable to mention that Dick forced Bruce's hand, Bruce was really trying to stop this kid from murdering a man. It was a compromise. Alfred and Dick may have pushed Tim to become Robin but he was already one foot out the door. Damian and Cass were trained by assassins. None of these kids are realistic depictions of children, even if they are relatable. When you read a superhero comic you are suspending a certain level of disbelief and I don't think it's the hot take people think it is to criticize Batman for allowing kids to fight.

Like cool, then we don't have a story. Nothing about superheroes are realistic. Why is this the line we draw in the sand?

I didn't know when to bring this up, so I'm going to awkwardly tack it on at the end. So the "Nothing Butt Nightwing" webcomic... Yeah it looks not good, but a lot of people are calling it out for sexualizing Dick, which once again to me fails to understand the outside context. There is a difference between sexualizing and sexualization of an ethnicity. As I mentioned, for most of Dick's run he was a white character who was written to be flirty. Devin was fetishizing him, but allowing Dick to remain a flirty character is not an act of fetish based sexualization. Personally I think it’s more harmful to get rid of core aspects of his character now that he is canonly Romani. Not to mention that if we address the SA with his character we are now back in this place of stereotyping and bad undertones. So until DC is ready to tell a legitimate story about male SA victims I'd rather the Dick Grayson thing be left silently in the past. I'm so hyper aware that I'm in the minority though. I agree it could be really powerful to have one of those stories be told but consider how harmful it would be to continue to imply these things about WOC.

[sukioyakio]

Pre-famousSinger!Choso who has been having a crush on you,his best friend but never really brought the courage to tell his feeling for you for straight 5 years of his life with you in it. And so during his way trying to make his name in the music industry he writes songs and perform them infornt of you to hear him sing.

Pre-famousSinger!Choso who the only one who knows that the songs he's performing for you to hear first are songs about you and his secret love for you.And seriously hates himself for having confidence to even sings this to you but doesn't have any confidence to tell you his feeling.

Pre-famousSinger!Choso who has you in his front seat of his concerts even when he started he would paid for your seat to be in the front .And so when he didn't think his first song would make it millions of views and many people wanting more.And the song that made him famous was ironically the one he wrote his heart to you.And he was completely is embarrassed about that.But you being obvious and supportive;Tells him how proud you are of him.Making him smile with a redness in his cheeks.

FamousSinger!Choso Who after a few years of performing on the music industry he got rather famous and well sort out in many interviews and worked with many famous people.But what the people from the Internet doesn't know is that he spent his days chatting with you and even Surprising you on your birthday.By bringing you various expenses of trips.He loves seeing you happy and your smile.Even if he has to disguise himself from fans.

FamousSinger!Choso who gets extremely happy seeing you at one of his concerts randomly and Chuckles seeing you jump and scream while waving your hand at him to notice you but what you don't know he has already done.As he waves back to you without hesitation and continue to sing.And You being obvious about him actually waving at you you look behind you to see if he wave to someone else but doesn't see anyone near her waving at him.And completely chuckles about the whole interaction.

FamousSinger!Choso Who after the concert gets tag into a media out burst of him dating someone behind the scenes and he see a pic of him talking on the phone with a soft smile,walking.He completely knows who he was talking to on the phone that day.(You) And let’s out a dreamy sigh wishing it was true that he was dating someone behind the scenes and that it was you.And a second later your caller is pops up on his phone and he gladly takes it.Completely forgetting about what he saw on the media after a few hours later.

I hope y’all like this one,just something for y’all to read. Also sorry for the grammar errors.

tag list: @lil-annonie @scoobysnakz @lynxslokley @mononijikayu

[dxmedstudent]

My siblings, parents and partner all wear glasses, as well as most of my friends.

My parents only started wearing them later I life and are more forgetful so I'd often be moving them to stop them from getting crushed. I need to move their many pairs of reading glasses quite often.

My sister and husband are both very careful with their glasses so despite having a very close relationship with both of them, I've almost never had to handle them. This is a tool that let's them experience the world and spends almost all day on their face being used until they are carefully put away - why would another person need to adjust them?

I think I've very rarely had to move them around? Generally the wearer is the only one who knows if they need adjusting or cleaning and they will usually want to do that for themselves. Like, if your bra strap needs adjusting or your zip needs doing up/undoing, you're not going to ask your husband to do it, unless you can't do it yourself. Unless you're being very intimate and making a point of it, perhaps...

I see why some might want to write scenes where a love interest is adjusting a character's glasses but I wonder if it would feel more weirdly intrusive than intimate in reality, like wiping someone's mouth for them or adjusting their clothing. In which case you might want to think of a reason why they'd need or want that kind of help abd set up the scene. For example, maybe their hands aren't free or they've hurt their hand? Did they ask for help or did the other character volunteer?

Because let me say from experience, even if you ARE being intimate, if you're being lovingly handsy around someone's glasses it can lead to awkwardly knocking them off or poking the other person in the eye if you're unexpectedly in their face.

What I'd suggest is to write a scene with the person's personality in mind. Are they reserved and careful with their items? Do they like their personal space? That kind of act would be much more intimate and possibly annoying. Do they tolerate contact from this person specifically? And why this kind of contact? Are they touchy and welcoming of tactile attention from others? Is the other person very tactile? Are they clumsy?

But then if you just want to write fic that's joyfully silly and romantic and horny just do what you want. It doesn't always have to be realistic.

Read enough stories featuring characters who very notably wear glasses, and you start to notice certain trends in romantic scenes.

[jjonglemons]

all my works can be found here

Divine Wine & Dine

happy topaz month!! In honour of wy and hj, i wanted to write a little fic based on the greek god theories going around about gh pt. 2's concept. enjoy ;)

WC: 2.4k

Tags: smut, dionysus!wooyoung, adonis!hongjoong, nymph!reader, partying, drinking, threesome, some rough sex, unprotected sex, cum eating, cum play, a bit of dirty talk, oral (m&f receiving)

“Hongjoong, help me with this, please,” Wooyoung sighed, struggling to lift up the marble dining table off the ground, “the guests will be here soon.”

Hongjoong nodded, moving from helping the garden nymphs hang up floral decor to grabbing the opposite end of the table. The two of them quickly maneuvered it towards the side of the room near the entrance of the kitchen, dropping it into place with a huff. 

“I think that’s everything,” Hongjoong exhaled, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “Gods, they really need to stop making everything from marble. This shit is heavy.”

Wooyoung chuckled, patting his friend on the back. “We tell them this every year and they never listen.”

It wasn’t long before guests started arriving, including Wooyoung’s father, Zeus. He rarely showed up with a happy attitude for any occasion, so Wooyoung was preparing to hear some form of bullshit gibberish fall from his mouth during the party. Hongjoong, being the good friend that he was, had offered for them to have a joint party since their birthdays were so close together. His logic was that if it wasn’t just focused on Wooyoung, maybe his father would be less likely to cause a scene. Wooyoung warned him that it wouldn’t matter, especially since Hongjoong was a mortal, it’d probably make him subject to harsh comments directly from Zeus, too. And of course, Wooyoung would get some slap in the face for “daring” to become friends with a mortal. It was always “you need to focus on your godly duties” blah blah blah, and frankly, Wooyoung was sick of it. All of his so-called god “friends” were wishy-washy. There was always some sort of drama happening with them. 

It was different with Hongjoong. He was calm and collected, staying out of other people’s business. He was very alluring to those who met him, and he’d been involved with many lovers through this attention. But, he was so kind and passionate; he never hung any of them out to dry. He was honest and open, and everyone left satisfied and cared for. That character reflected in all of his relationship dynamics, hence why he and Wooyoung’s friendship was solid. It was really important for Wooyoung, too, because it felt as though Hongjoong was making up for the relationship he wished he could have with his father. But he knew he never would, and he just had to live with the disappointment. Hongjoong was a healing presence for him.

“Ah, my son,” Zeus gleamed, making his way through the now apparent sea of people towards Wooyoung, “so good to see you.” He pulled him in for a hug, Wooyoung noticeably cringing under his touch.

“Hey, dad,” Wooyoung forced himself to smile as they parted from each other, “likewise.”

He nodded, then turned to Hongjoong standing beside his son, “and you must be the second guest of the party, I presume? What was your name again?”

“Hongjoong, sir,” Hongjoong swallowed, trying not to allow his distaste for his best friend's father to weigh on his presence.

“That’s right,” he smiled, “happiest birthday to you both,” then walked away.

Hongjoong and Wooyoung exhaled simultaneously, releasing all of the tension they were storing up from the encounter.

“Wow,” Wooyoung said, “I’m genuinely shocked he didn't insult either of us. Though, I’m a bit pissed he forgot your name again.”

Hongjoong chuckled, nudging his friend’s arm beside him. “Perhaps the gods are on our side tonight.”

“Perhaps.”

It didn’t take long for the music and guests to become louder, which only prompted Hongjoong and Wooyoung’s need to escape. It was too crowded, continuously resulting in the two of them getting bumped into every few seconds by wasted guests. Plus, they were beginning to feel overheated from their own consumption of alcohol, which did not mesh well with being overcrowded. 

“Ugh,” Hongjoong gritted, “why did I listen to my parents' guest list? I don’t even know half of the people here.”

“You and me both,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, “I may act all tough, but my father still has me right under his thumb.”

“Wanna get out of here?”

“Yes, please.”

Wooyoung and Hongjoong easily snuck out of the dining hall, which was the only positive outcome of having a lot of people in one area. Quietly, they shuffled through the mansion towards the greenhouse. As they approached the door, there was a sound of soft singing coming from the other side.

“I wonder who’s in here?” Wooyoung lifted his brows. “Everyone should be at the party right now.”

“Looks like we’re not the only ones who needed an escape,” Hongjoong added, lightly pushing the door open. Immediately upon entering, they noticed a figure in the corner, the one from which the singing was coming from.

There you were, hands gently holding the budding flowers of the rose bushes. They unfolded, their colours becoming more vibrant the more you sang. 

“It’s Y/N,” Wooyoung whispered, identifying the silhouette. 

You were a fairly new nymph in the mansion, only about two months into your job there. So far, it had been a lot of fun, and thankfully Wooyoung was always respectful. Hongjoong was too, whenever he’d come around to visit his dear friend. They were a breath of fresh air, not at all like the gods from your previous employments. 

“Should we go somewhere else? I don’t want to disturb her-” Hongjoong cut himself off as he accidently bumped into one of the pots beside the entrance, causing a loud clunk.

You inhaled sharply, your singing coming to a halt. “Who’s there?” You demanded, turning around to face the entrance. Your face softened when you recognized it was only Wooyoung and Hongjoong. “Oh, hey, guys.”

To anyone outside of your friendship trio, you addressing them so casually would result in dirty looks and commanded apologies. But from the very beginning, they never wanted you to address them as authorities. Sure, they were a few years older than you, but they always viewed you as an equal. Wooyoung made it a point to make sure those in his home felt warm and welcome, unlike his father. 

You emerged from the dark corner, approaching the two boys in the doorway. Wooyoung’s breath hitched in his throat when he caught sight of your dress. It was light blue, the sleeves flowing past your palms. It hugged your body perfectly. Wooyoung always thought you were attractive, but he had yet to see you all dolled up. He was whipped.

Hongjoong wasn’t any different. He stood there staring, mesmerised by your beauty. The way your turquoise curls touched just below your breasts. The way your eyes became pools of gold in the moonlight peaking through the transparent glass windows of the greenhouse. 

You chuckled, noticing their attention. “Hello? Earth to Woojoong?” 

Wooyoung cleared his throat, awkwardly darting his eyes away from you. “Sorry, you just…. Look really beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you blushed, biting your lip slightly. “You look quite dapper, yourself.”

You peered up at him and Hongjoong, still feeling a bit tipsy from the party. Just like them, you always found them both to be attractive young men, but never thought about it much further. They have been such kind friends to you, and you were afraid of ruining that if you were to ever allow those attractions to be expressed. But seeing them dressed as they were, being as close as they were, off the clock and in the quiet, closed off space, and having a bit of liquid courage, you couldn’t help but allow your thoughts to run wild. 

They must have sensed the energy shift too, because suddenly Wooyoung was only a millimeter away from your neck. He was leaning over to whisper into your ear.

“Pardon my manners, but I’d like to take this dress off of you, if you’re alright with that.”

You exhaled, shivers running through every inch of your body at his words. A small moan left your mouth, causing you to blush both out of arousal and embarrassment.

“What did you say to her?” Hongjoong giggled, noticing your reddened cheeks, “must have been very cheeky, huh?”

“Care to join?” You smirked, thanking the alcohol for giving you an extra boost of confidence.

Hongjoong was surprised for a moment, but quickly settled his features in an enticing hunger. He didn’t hear what Wooyoung said specifically, but it wasn’t hard for him to read the room. “I would like that very much.”

You took the two of them by the hands, gently leading them back to the corner you were found in earlier. There was a pile of bushes soft enough to lay in as well as a bottle, which one could only assume was liquor, beside them. You leaned over to pick it up and took a swig before holding it out to the two of them.

“It’s lotus liquor.”

Wooyoung and Hoongjoong quickly took the bottle from your hands, knowing very well the effects the concoction had on the consumer as an aphrodisiac. It would only enhance the pleasure. 

“Seems like you were looking for something like this to happen, no?” Wooyoung smirked, “is that why you were drinking this all by yourself?”

They took their sips before placing it down in a spot further from where the three of you were standing so as to not knock it over when you got down to business.

Carefully, Wooyoung began tracing your collarbone as he stood behind you, while you began you gently feel up Hongjoong’s torso in front of you. You hummed under the touch, leaning your head slightly back against Wooyoung’s shoulder. Hongjoong placed his hands on your hips, bringing himself closer to you. He pressed his lips against yours hastily, his tongue quickly finding yours. You gripped at the hem of his shirt, biting down gently on his bottom lip as you continued to kiss one another. He groaned, tightening his grip on you in response. Wooyoung unzipped the back of your dress, feathering kisses along your spine. With his teeth, he unclipped your bra, and you pulled away from Hongjoong for a moment so you could allow your clothing to slip down off of you onto the floor. 

“Gods,” Hongjoong hissed, taking in the sight of you, “you are so fucking beautiful.”

“As are you both, your heinesses.”

Quickly, Hongjoong knelt in front of you, looping the straps of your panties around his fingers to pull them off of you, revealing your growing arousal. 

“I need to taste you,” he pleaded, glancing up at you from his knees desperately.

“Taste me, then.” You said.

Hongjoong didn’t waste another moment, his lips quickly meeting your sensitive nub. He flicked gently as he switched between circling it and spreading your slick further around your folds. You moaned, gripping his hair. Wooyoung bit down on your neck, harshly sucking at the skin to mark you, he wrapped one arm around your throat, the other your breasts. He played with your hardened nipples, sucking your neck harder every time you moaned.

“I-I’m going to come.” You stuttered, your legs becoming slightly weak. The mens’ grip on you kept you upright and steady. 

“Come for me,” Hongjoong muttered against your core, “let me swallow your pleasure.”

With those last five words, you allowed yourself to come undone, your juices flowing into his mouth and down his chin. He moaned loudly as he drank you in, devouring your orgasm. He stood up, placing a kiss on your lips before removing his clothing. Wooyoung released you for a short time so he could do the same.

“What would you like to do, hmm?” Wooyoung sang, now standing in front of you. He lifted your chin to look up at him and smirked, then leaned in to kiss you. You melted into his lips immediately. 

“I want your cock, Wooyoung,” you begged between kisses, “I want you to fuck me. Give me your best.”

And with that, he pushed you down on the bushes and threw your legs over his shoulders. He started gently, but once you had adjusted, he began pounding into you with no remorse.

“Fuck!” you screamed, gripping at his back, “fuck, fuck fuck!”

Hongjoong was now hovering about your head, his hardened cock begging for your touch. You took it within your hands and placed your mouth onto his tip. He sighed as you began to move your palm along his shaft, swirling your tongue around him in unison. 

“Shit,” he breathed shakily, “don’t stop!”

You couldn’t help but allow your eyes to roll back as you wriggled and mewled beneath the two men, the three of you completely ravishing one another. Wooyoung continued holding your hips cruelly as his cock filled up every inch of you. Cries fell from his lips as he watched you squirm below from his thrusts and taking in Hongjoong’s cock completely.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, nearly reaching his limit, “I’m going to come in this sweet pussy of yours.”

Wooyoung unravelled, bucking his hips into you ruthlessly as he released his orgasm, filling your pussy completely with his come. Hongjoong sputtered his hips as you continued to suck on his tip, swallowing his come as he reached his peak.

Wooyoung quickly replaced his cock with his fingers, pushing his cum back inside of you as he pressed against your g-spot. You exhaled as Hongjoong removed himself from your mouth, his come now entirely consumed by you. You gripped his thighs behind the back of your head to keep yourself steady as Wooyoung pushed you over the edge, coming for a second time. Wooyoung leaned down to drink up your arousal, licking up the rest on his fingers as he lifted his head back up to meet your eyes. You breathed heavily, allowing yourself to sink deeper into the soft bushes you were lying against.

You hadn’t realised you had fallen asleep. When you awoke in your bedroom, you found your dress was back on your body, and there was a bouquet of roses sitting on your nightstand with a note attached to it. 

Dearest Y/N,

We had a lovely night and would love to see you again. -W & H

[romanceclub-confessionss]

Confession:

I wish RC would would give Jester an assistant/co-author who's only job is to write scenes for female LIs because he doesn't care about women (Except the mc who is literally just a tool to self insert and romance pretty ❤️Men❤️) so it's only right the poor guy gets to be freed from this "burden" so he can write as many ❤️Male❤️ LIs as he wants. I personally nominate Langley because she's a total writing machine and can easily write both 7B and scenes for Jester's female LIs (I still can't believe that "s" at the end of "LIs" is real) at the same time.

[taruruchi]

WAAAAA THANK YOU FOR THE TAGS, IAN, @angelwishess @twtysevapr @skriblee-ksk and @itskamisato I never expected I'd be tagged by so many people 🥹🥹💖💗 You're all so sweet!! I also wanna write small messages to a few people so they'll be utc 🫶 No pressure to rb or reply btw!! Just wanted to express my gratitude <3

To @linabirb and @solxima my MOOOOST belovedests ever, you've known me practically since the beginning and when I first joined the twst fandom KSNDKNSF you literally know all my ocs and get all the behind the scenes intel on them and myself HAHAHAHA I'm so so happy we've known each other for almost 3 whole years??? That's CRAZYYY to me... Anyway I love y'all SOSOSOSO much and I hope we get to continue yapping and playing volleyball with the braincell for a long long long, long long time to come 💝💞💓💖💕

The people I found through the a3 fandom and the a3 yume shippers I know! @akaikami-cherryblossom @ashipiko @emilycollins00 @marchenmusika @mxddyhero @last-runway @hqissodelicate @imissa3en @everwisp @omi-my-beloved and soooo many other a3 people, you guys are literally the sweetest people ever, I love seeing you on my dash even if we don't really interact often, and I adore all the love you exude <3 (And I hope you yume shippers continue to post bc I love seeing how happy you are talking about your f/os!!)

To a few older moots @wafflethewitchboy @siphoklansan @merotwst @ceruleancattail @aqua-beam @kunikame @officialdaydreamer00 @hisui-dreamer we probably interacted haven't in a while but I still treasure you guys as my moots dearly and am grateful for every past interaction 🫶🫶

@dr3amscap3 you get a special mention because tbh you're more like a discord moot than tumblr one now BAHAHAHAHA I don't remember how that even happened tbh??? Just one day we were yapping on disc and now I'm getting the most majestic song covers ever HAHAHA we should've been friends if we knew each other in the philippines ☹️☹️ BUT YEAH!! I hope life treats you well and ONE DAY WE'LL MAKE THE BEST PIANO VOICE SONG COVER EVER, TRUST 🤞🤞

@h0neybane you get a special mention too bc you're half tumblr half discord moot too KANSKDKS GENUINELY THO I LOVE TALKING TO YOU, HEARING YOUR EVLEO THOUGHTS, AND SEEING ALL YOUR WIPS!!!! This is the specialest privilege I never thought I'd get when I first sent you the art request THAT CHANGED MY BRAIN CHEMISTRY PERMANENTLY BTW. YOUUUU 💥💥💥 Ily please never stop dropping random rambles or wips on me 🫶

To the newer twst moots I've made @jewelulu @distant-velleity @theolivetree123 @twtysevapr @beneathsakurashade @cheerleaderman @angelwishess @scint1llat3 @gimmeurmoneyagh @gl00myb3arz @skriblee-ksk @itskamisato @skibidibabygirl @bunniehunn @viperbunnies @justm3di0cr3 I was a pretty more isolated blog before I'll be honest HAHAHAHA but all of you made my experience these past like, what, 2 or 3 months?? So much more exciting and so much more fun, and I'm so grateful for that!!! I'm happy with every interaction I get from you guys, thank you for being my moots 🥺🫶

And I think that's everyone HAHAHA I'd also like to say thank you to my followers, I do recognize you when you appear in my notifs and you always bring a smile to my face bc I go "Oh! It's them! :D" like knowing you're doing well <3 Thank you too for deciding to follow my silly little blog HAHAHA

I LOVE YOU EVERYONE!!!!

positivity train!

if you see this or are tagged in it, tag a couple of your favorite mutuals/blogs and let them know you appreciate seeing them on your dash!

@h0neysugarfree @blueberrylovv @bequiteanddriveeeeeee @cherri-bomb-bomb @eg0mechan1c @fatrexicisback

[stxrvel]

disclosure (6)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. platonic ot7 x f!reader for now content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, angst, reader becomes sus, fighting (in the wrong way), angry and mean jin? self-doubt. a/n. hi guysssssss!!! sorry it's taking me this long always, but i finally finished this part! i actually just finished it and it's almost 2am and i have to go to work in fivehours. i'm publishing this part as it is and maybe tomorrow if i have the time i'll look at it again, bc i'm really exhausted right now. and also please forgive me if there are any mistakes in the text;((((. but i hope you guys enjoy this 7k monster of a chapter and i'll see you next time!!

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The fourth book of your saga was a reflection of everything you had gone through when you moved with your family to the capital. You finished the third book when you had barely been in the city for a month and maybe that's why it didn't have a happy ending and why everyone who had read the trilogy had been devastated with that ending. It wasn't something you had planned from the beginning, but it wasn't something that ruined the plot either. It was actually much better than you had planned.

And when you finally finished with the trilogy, starting to write again wasn't hard, especially with so many mixed emotions and so much repressed pain coming back to the surface uninvited.

Maybe you hadn't been in connection with your strong feelings since then, when the city constantly reminded you that you had lost the only people you considered your true friends and the pain of their absence and the harsh reality was a knife burying itself in your chest over and over again. You hadn't felt this much since the moment you realized that they were able to live their lives without you, but you had to go through the mourning of losing them.

You hadn't felt this much since then, until that moment when, having been just a day since you had decided you would take the path of healing, you had to reopen the draft of your fourth book and find all those angry paragraphs, spit out words, piled up letters and whole pages filled with pure rage and pain; of disappointment and realization… of betrayal.

“Are you going to start again already? Don't you think you deserve a break?”

The words Yuna had spoken to you that morning were echoing in your head from the moment you read the first words of this draft and the memories began to well up, emotions making your hair stand on end and your throat close up.

It was almost funny to remember how incredibly angry you were when you first arrived in the city.

The city, with posters of Jungkook's face on every corner, with his performances on some screens or just teenagers talking about him and whispering about his music, it was practically impossible to escape it. The city, with radios blaring Yoongi's songs, in a cab or on public transportation, interviews blaring on TVs in shopping malls. The city, with the international news, which echoed so much, about the spectacular promises of modeling. The country couldn't be prouder to have representatives of that caliber, because the moment Taehyung and Jimin overtook the West and broke the international barrier, it was only a matter of time before the others followed suit and completely changed the idea of entertainment and media in the country.

The first months in the city were nauseating, when you had to get used to and overcome your emotions the hard way, fighting against the aggressive tide that all the time tried to drown you, and that was noticeable in every word and every scene of that book, and you were almost sure that if any of them read it, they would know immediately. If they wanted to know anything about you, if they were really interested, there would be no better way than through your books; in no other situation would you be so vulnerable.

You wondered, for a moment, if any of them would have read any of the books by now. If Namjoon would remember when you asked him for strange words to describe emotions and now they were captured in those impressions, or when you asked Jin and Hoseok for their opinion about the complex construction of your world and each of their peculiar and crazy details can be found in those pages. Just as your books had all the pieces of you, it also had crumbs of them, and you wondered if they would notice if they read it.

Don't you think you deserve a break?

Maybe you do. That's why you had decided to close that cycle once and for all, and there was no better way to do it than to finally start with the edition of this book. Of this fourth book, so strong in its toughness and determination, so vulnerable in its rage and palpable pain.

It was the cleanest and purest and truest version of you.

But as much as you deserved it, it felt more like punishment. Reliving those emotions and evoking those memories caused you more anguish and you didn't know if you could face a kind of shock therapy like that to finally let go.

“The editors said you'd be here.”

You saw Choi Dohyun standing, leaning against the door frame above the computer screen that still displayed the title of the first chapter of your fourth book. On a Wednesday at barely eight o'clock in the morning, the great CEO decided to set aside a few minutes of his busy time to gratify you with his presence.

His calm, serene and carefree expression was the contrast to the swirl of emotions that ran through that room, rising from the crown of your head. You could almost tell he wasn't venturing into the office because he could feel the tension radiating from your position at the desk. He must have even seen it on your face.

You sighed and barely waved at him, running your hands over your face, trying to ease your tense muscles a little.

“Is there a specific reason why you don't want the editors to read the book?”

Choi Dohyun was a mystery. You only knew about him from the three-hour conversation you had the day before, besides the strange looks he cast at Yoongi from his office entrance. He had shown himself to be a very open person and it was clear that he was an expert at making things work his way. You knew he had agreed to many of your conditions because what he would get in return was bigger than what it would cost him, which really wasn't too much, just enough to maintain a level of creative freedom that would allow you to access editorial support when you saw fit —because you knew that once you handed it over, it would no longer be entirely yours—and often businessmen reflected their own personalities in how they negotiated a deal.

Dohyun tried to come across as a fairly personable person; he tried to be understanding, communicative and open-minded, so much so that he reminded you of the comfortable security of an older brother. However, you could tell in that meeting that he held back too much; that he had hated the way Yuna used to interrupt him to ask him questions or how your brother would put too many buts in his mouth and try to get information out of him that he shouldn't give away. You could tell he was impatient, that he really expected the meeting to last less than twenty minutes because he was sure you would sign the contract blindly as soon as you saw the profits you'd gain from the distribution and sale of your books. You also noticed, in case it wasn't obvious already, that he preferred to be in control as long as the situation and the people around him allowed it, for his convenience. If he gave in on several occasions, you knew it had been because he was very, very aware of everything that benefited him.

There were two options: Choi Dohyun wore a mask constantly, or Choi Dohyun was a fraud.

“I just wanted to read it one more time… before handing it over. I won't take long.”

“It's okay. No problem.” Dohyun finally walked into the room, the office he had handed you for whenever you decided to go to his publishing house. You didn't even know writers had that option; you didn't know if it was common, but he allowed it. He had also offered you a writing kit that included a typewriter that looked quite expensive, and although you hadn't accepted it, there it was in one of the corners of the office. Dohyun sat across from you, glancing at the few things you had brought from home to make the place a little more pleasant. “I understand that sometimes it's hard to separate yourself from your work. It's a part of you, after all. A kind of vulnerability that not everyone sees.”

That was the kind of thing that kept Dohyun's true nature a mystery. His stoic expression as he blurted out words of comfort. It almost felt like running sandpaper over cement. Not that you needed to figure him out, because at the end of the day he was a boss of sorts and you two were bound by a contract with mutual economic benefits —technically, you were each there for a benefit of your own— but it was something you wanted to be aware of, watchful of, informed of, because you had no way of knowing this guy wouldn't try to take advantage of some situation later, in any possible scenario.

“Yes…”

“Take as much time as you need. The demand for the trilogy is still pretty high, after all.”

You nodded at him in response, wary of his attempt to lighten the mood. If he was the kind of person you thought he was, he surely knew you didn't feel an ounce of trust towards him.

“In just two days you must have quite a bit of work to do with that,” you tried to continue the conversation, interspersing your gaze over the letters on the screen and his dark eyes.

“But it's a very welcome work. Aren't you glad your books were so well received?”

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation, momentarily remembering the proud look on Yuna and your brother's face when they finally got you to see the reactions and opinions of your books on social media. “It's comforting. For your work to be appreciated, recognized… moreover, that it allows you to make a living from it. It's amazing and a very great privilege.”

Dohyun shook his head in assent, interlacing his fingers over his abdomen. From his nonchalant way of taking a seat across from you, slumped over the chair almost as if he was an old friend from college and not practically your boss, and from how his voice reflected that sense of calmness and confidence, you could almost tell he was perfectly selling the facade of the most trustworthy person in the world.

But ultimately it was your feeling and your need to automatically distrust anyone you met because you didn't know at what point they would try to take advantage of you or turn their back on you, and maybe Dohyun wasn't as bad a person as you wanted to paint him in your head. Maybe you would even accept that his presence was a bit comforting and that he actually reminded you of someone you used to know in the past and of whom currently, if you knew he was still alive, it was by sheer luck. That personality, that sense of security he conveyed and that way he had had of expressing himself to you in that meeting that showed a different and more mature kind of wisdom, indeed reminded you of someone else.

Dohyun was very, very much like Jin.

“Can I… ask you something?” you hesitated, alternating your gaze between the screen and his dark eyes, not quite sure if you wanted to go down that path, but aware that you would get something in return if you did, and perhaps the risk would be worth it. “But it's not related to… this.”

As you pointed to your computer and the rest of the office, you couldn't decipher what expression Dohyun sketched. Trying to read him like you did everyone else, it seemed he entertained a specific train of thought in his head and was sparked by your question, but you couldn't probe much further because he agreed, tilting his head to invite you to ask bluntly.

“How do you know Min Yoongi?”

Dohyun then lifted his chin and his lips curved into a sort of small smile that could more accurately be described as a grimace. With his eyes on the window, with the beautiful view of the city and its busy streets, Dohyun took his time to answer and his pleased and almost satisfied look gave you to understand that your question was not a surprise at all. Dohyun could take it simply as healthy curiosity, for after all Yoongi was a celebrity and there weren't many people around the country who couldn't recognize him and you literally saw him face to face.

However, of course, there was something about his attitude that felt different. He wasn't surprised by your question, it was true, but maybe not for the reason you thought.

“He's a friend of my best friend.” Dohyun finally answered, returning your gaze, a glint of amusement highlighting his dark eyes. “I met him a couple of years ago through him, who is also his best friend. Otherwise, I doubt we would've ever met.”

Ah, Dohyun had a best friend who was best friends with Yoongi. That could only mean one thing.

“Ah. Then your best friend is part of the seven kings.”

Dohyun raised his eyebrows, clearly amused by your choice of words and the permanence of that haunting smile and the glint in his eyes should've been warning enough. He had the posture, demeanor and speech of a person who knew he was in control of the situation. Whatever his purpose was in entertaining this conversation, you already knew you were involved in that reason, indirectly.

Dohyun knew something about you that you had no idea about.

“Yes, indeed. It's Kim Seokjin. We met in college.”

As you guessed, of course. That's where the similar traits you could find in his personality came from.

But then Yoongi wasn't directly friends with Dohyun, and they couldn't be that close because of the nonchalant way he referred to him, so the question of why he was here yesterday, precisely when you came, would remain unanswered. It could be a coincidence? Of course, and you could remain in doubt, or you could…

“Wow. You two really are a powerful duo.”

Dohyun let out a laugh, nodding, looking so comfortable with himself, as if you were asking all the questions you should be asking.

“I love my job and I know I'm good at what I do, but Jin is simply on another level.”

You nodded, getting into his game of pretending, with a half smile on your face.

You knew that if Yuna knew what you were doing she would shake her head and tell you that you were crazy; that you should try to be less hard on other people and that's why you had never been able to hit it off with the other co-workers in Sol's cafeteria.

“Yes. I hear he's a great surgeon. He was top of his class, wasn't he?”

“That's right.” Dohyun nodded, determined not to look away from you. “But you're close to them too, aren't you? I saw Taehyung's Instagram stories when he uploaded your books.”

You blinked. Once. And again. He had already figured you out, and now he wanted to reverse the table and get some kind of reaction or information from you that you didn't know what kind of mystery it would solve in his head. The best option was to feign a bit of surprise, which was what you did, as if you didn't expect him to suddenly bring that up.

“Well, we studied together in school, but we were never that close.”

You lifted a shoulder, trying to downplay the subject, as if on cue, and Dohyun nodded slightly processing the information, averting his gaze over the dark carpet on the floor. He seemed to be tying up loose ends in his head and had more questions, the way he squinted his eyes as you gave him his space to think.

You had no idea what he was getting at. You had already brought out to him that he was close friends with Kim Seokjin and that, basically by extension he knew Yoongi. You could almost say it was a bit of an ordinary, almost trivial topic, not overly suspicious. Unless, of course, he knew something else that raised his curiosity and made you look suspicious in his eyes for asking such questions.

It seemed the most certain theory.

“And through him you must have met the others sometime, right?”

And it seemed you were right, too.

You had to deny his assertion, you knew, but it seemed you had taken half a second too long because he beat you to the word, shaking his head in a nod, and then said:

“That explains a lot.”

“Huh?”

Play dumb, play dumb.

Dohyun cracked a big grin, looking almost like a predator in the midst of its hunt, and from that alone you knew he'd already put his puzzle together.

“Well… actually, now that we're being honest, Jin was the one who recommended me to read your books.”

Wow.

Okay.

Jin… told Dohyun about you? About your books?

That doesn't explain anything. In fact, more questions popped up in your head than you could control and you were sure Dohyun could see the question marks moving over your irises.

“He told me that there could be a great opportunity if I published you and he was really right. I don't regret sending you that offer.”

Dohyun leaned back against the backrest and stretched one of his arms over the chair next to him. His posture was a little more relaxed than before and you couldn't help the feeling of anger that ran through you because you had given him just what he wanted, but you couldn't concentrate too much on that because you were too surprised by what he had just blurted out, as if it was nothig.

Of all the things you could've imagined, you would never have considered that this huge and prestigious publishing house had offered you a contract just because one of the CEO's great friends had recommended it to him. I mean, if Jin had never talked about it, would you have had any chance of getting this offer? Of signing this contract? Would you have been recognized on your own merit and not because you were linked to the mouth of a close friend?

None of that made any sense. Why had Jin told Choi Dohyun about you? His best friend being the owner of the most prestigious publishing house in the country, clearly knowing the implications of his actions, why would he do that? Maybe he didn't count on his friend throwing him overboard someday for gossiping and because he has an ego bigger than his own head? Maybe he thought it would be an anonymous job forever? And for what reason? On what grounds? What kind of emotions moved him to make that decision? Maybe it was simply an altruistic desire. Maybe he was moved by the same thing that moved Taehyung, the one who started all this. But was it something premeditated or not? Was it something he had previously discussed with Namjoon? Would the others know about it? Would they have agreed? Would they not have cared?

In the midst of that mental stupor, the very idea of healing seemed stupid to you. The immense confusion and anger that was coursing through your blood had no place for this group of fools to continue to meddle in your life as if they were playing a fucking election game on their computer. Why? Why? Why?

You wanted to get out of a simple doubt with Dohyun, to know what kind of connection he had with Yoongi and that everything that had happened was a coincidence, and you had ended up with a thousand more questions, with a hundred confusions and even more mixed emotions.

And Yoongi… would he have been in his office yesterday for something related to that?

“At first I thought Taehyung had asked him, but Jin is quite careful about such things. He wouldn't hint something like that to me even because his brothers ask him to, unless it was someone he could vouch for. So you knew Jin too, right?”

You didn't try to deny it, but you didn't give him the reason either. Amidst a sea of questions and confusion, incredulous and angry, you just shook your head and crossed your arms.

“I'll bring the first draft tomorrow.”

Dohyun took his time, drumming his fingers on the wood of the chair, sending you a look as if he wanted to get more answers out of you because your attitude raised more doubts than he initially had. Maybe you let go of a wolf's leash or this would be a one-time occurrence, you had no idea. But he said nothing more. Finally he got up, said goodbye and left.

Don't you think you deserve a break?

You should've listened to Yuna.

-

The next day, when you finished editing the draft of your fourth book amid tears, several cups of coffee and an excruciating pain in your wrist, you finally handed it in to the editors with a heavy heart and an hour of sleep in your body. It had officially ceased to be yours. The revelation that Dohyun had actually offered you all of this because Jin had asked him to do so kept going round and round in your head and made you revise and edit that draft more harshly than you would've done before.

Maybe you added a few extra curse words.

“If you don't finish that pasta, I'm going to steal it from you.”

Yuna hadn't even finished her own plate and was already eyeing yours, her brow furrowed and her own fork stabbing the ceramic of the deep dish you'd served your friend in as she crossed the threshold of the front door. You had been stirring the food with your fork for a while, thinking, reflecting, theorizing, trying to figure out what you really wanted; trying to recognize and accept the emotions inside you that were upsetting you.

Your parents had left early and Seojun was back in his college dorms, so you invited Yuna to lunch because you knew she loved the pastries your mom made and because you thought it would do you good to have some company after turning in the draft of your book. But, really, you were more overwhelmed than before. Yuna's presence didn't stop the thoughts in your head from racing, nor did it erase from reality what had happened.

“Y/n?”

You raised your head.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, and tried to focus on eating lunch before rambling on.

“Is it because of the book?”

“No, no. Everything's fine. I was just thinking.”

“Do you think you should've waited a little longer to turn it in?”

You shook your head. “No.”

It wasn't an order from Dohyun or anything like that. You decided to get started on editing the next book because it was a bit desperate to have nothing to do. Before you could focus on the whole operational and logistical process of delivering the books, but now that was taken care of by a separate company and all you had to do was verify that the money was coming into your account and that was it. Not that it was bad, but you were not used to just sitting idly by. So you thought that continuing with the pre-publication editing of the next books might be a good way to pass the time.

You didn't expect, of course, the statement you heard the day before, let alone that it would knock down your motivation like the wind to dry leaves. After that conversation with Dohyun, you decided that the best thing you could do was to turn in that draft and give them as much work as possible as a distraction so that you wouldn't have to go back to that building for at least a couple of weeks. It wasn't a healthy activity, of course, because at the time you were only functioning to keep Yuna from questioning if there was something wrong with you. Well, she probably did, but she preferred not to comment on it, because you hadn't been giving her too many answers to her questions lately.

Having decided that Dohyun was an expert manipulator, you could only worry about the possibility that he might decide to comment something about that conversation to Jin or just stir up a conversation about the possible existence of a friendly bond with him during school time. You didn't know what could trigger that; with everything that had happened up to that point you could no longer be sure of anything or trust anything.

“No. I thought I'd turn it in now so I'd have more time to read the next books. I know that one isn't too bad. I revised it too many times while I was writing it and even after.”

“And it's pretty long, isn't it?”

You nodded, finally tasting another mouthful of pasta. “Seven hundred pages.”

“Holy Christ,” Yuna put a hand to her forehead and sketched a worried expression. Then her excited exclamation echoed throughout the house. “What a thrill! I can't wait to read it!!!!!!”

Yuna returned to work an hour later and you spent the rest of the afternoon between shifts of lying down staring at the ceiling and watching more videos about your books on social media, which you hadn't been able to leave since you saw them with your whole family in the living room. It still seemed surreal to you that you could search the name of your books on the internet and you would indeed get the results you expected. Clearly not all the opinions were praise, but you were willing to take all of that and learn, implement and consider it for the next stories you were willing to tell. For now, you were going to focus on keeping the editors busy enough that they wouldn't have to ask about it or demand your presence for any reason. This trilogy really was quite a lengthy saga, so when they finallt finish editing the fourth book, you'd have the fifth waiting, and so on. At least until you had another amazing idea for a new story.

Now, on the slightly more disturbing topics, you still had more loose ends to tie up than you had initially thought. As you still had those particles of anger running through your body and you were still convinced that there was still no room for healing and overcoming, you could only think about what Yoongi's presence in Dohyun's office was about and if it had to do with what Jin had done.

That was the first line of thought. The second one sounded more like Yuna with her serious voice trying to talk some sense into you and tell you that you were seeing into it too much, that surely it was all just a coincidence and that Yoongi's presence was just some kind of crossfire.

But… yet… how many more times did something like this have to happen before you stopped chalking it up to coincidence? How many more times would you say it was a coincidence until everything started to connect to a purpose? Did they even have a purpose? Did they have a reason for all this, for all this unnecessary drama? And was their reason worth it to compensate for the instability you were going through? Having pent up emotions, confusion, lots of doubts and zero answers was about to drive you crazy.

However, maybe seeing things from another approach would allow you to understand.

Because, honestly, you saw it as too complicated to be able to leave them behind in this way, when it seemed that, on purpose or not, you would keep finding them in your soup. Adopting a slightly more objective approach, even though your emotions were always running high when it came to them, could give you the resolution you were looking for and the answer to the questions you were asking yourself. And there would be nothing more than that, because it would be impossible to restore the friendship you once had. Perhaps the truth would be painful, but you would accept it as it was and move on. Now, as old as you were, it would not be as hard as it was ten years ago when in the midst of confusion and desolation you could only cry.

Now, you had already gone through the mourning and made peace with the distance, the absence and the betrayal.

Maybe, if you tried a little harder, you could bring real closure —and soon, hopefully— by finding the answers on your own.

-

Kim Namjoon used to believe that he was good at dealing with any kind of problem. In his head, which he was spinning around like a huge sphere and he was a hamster, Namjoon was sure that he could fix any situation and solve any misunderstanding, any fight or at least come to an agreement that would make everyone feel comfortable enough to move forward.

In his head, Namjoon was a three thousand dollars conflict-solver. Seeking solutions from reason and objectivity was basically how he kept his company afloat, that company he had inherited from his parents and had turned into the economic juggernaut it was today. All that success was summed up in the capacity for resolution that Namjoon had in his super head and, of course, his strategic capacity that allowed him to read his opponents and know exactly what they wanted, how they wanted it and when they wanted it.

However…

The whole table was still silent.

And Namjoon could only look at the faces of each of his friends, his best friends, practically his brothers, while they shied away from his gaze or directly ignored him, while he clasped his hands on the edge of the chair and tried to keep his composure because he no longer knew what to do.

Kim Namjoon, the three-thousandth troubleshooter, had a factory defect and could not fix the one thing he had always been able to fix with ease.

When Hoseok had walked into his office two nights ago with that stern and serious expression, Namjoon knew that there would be more problems to solve. But if he had to be honest, even before that moment he knew it wasn't working out well. Maybe it was because of the delicacy of the subject or the crudeness of his friends to address it, but Namjoon was losing the important ingredient of patience and that was something that hadn't happened to him before.

But then again, how could they all be so insensitive?

“Doesn't anyone have anything to say?”

Hoseok had been the only one to be spared from this discussion, though his presence was required at the table and tension radiated from his body in equal amounts. The others were directly attacked by the three thousandth (broken) problem-solver and despite Namjoon giving them a space to try to explain the situation, the table was still silent and with each passing second the pressure cooker containing Namjoon's anger was beeping louder and louder.

“I don't think there's much to say.”

It was Jin who finally broke the silence and Namjoon let out some air.

“Ah, thank you, Jin. Why do you think so?”

With his arms crossed, the older sent him an incredulous look.

“We've had this conversation three times already, Namjoon. Why do you think it's necessary for us to keep repeating ourselves?”

Hoseok had told Namjoon that he was concerned about the coexistence in the pent-house and that perhaps the elephant in the room was not being addressed in the right way; that more and more misunderstandings were being created between everyone and that it was making for an untrustworthy environment for the youngers. Namjoon agreed halfway through; if he had to be honest, none of it would've gotten to that point if none of them had been so irresponsible and daring to do all that they had done. And Jin had the least right to dismiss the issue as he had.

“Because you all don't seem to have listened to me at all, especially you.”

Jin snorted and turned his head away. Jungkook beside him barely winced at the hostile exchange.

“And what did I do?”

“What did you do? Jin, how can you be so inconsiderate?”

“I only rushed an exchange that was eventually going to happen, what the fuck is wrong with that?”

Namjoon tried not to look so surprised by the fact that the conversation he had had with him two nights ago and Yoongi had basically gone in one ear and out the other. Namjoon had no idea if it was an occupational hazard or a personality trait, but Jin was having a kind of stubbornness that bordered too much on his pride and desire to be right.

And right now it wasn't about who was right or wrong. It was about the fact that they had all made a promise and now they were breaking it as if it was worthless. Worse, as if the only ones affected by it were them and not a third party.

“Didn't you stop to think how she would feel if she found out that was how things went down?”

Jin rolled his eyes, but didn't answer him.

“Why do you all do all these things without believing that they will have consequences beyond your own feelings? That's all I'm asking you to consider!”

Taehyung and Jungkook at least had the decency to actually look embarrassed, avoiding Namjoon's gaze. Jimin was still convinced that he had done nothing extremely wrong and Yoongi simply demonstrated his sorrow through indifference. Namjoon knew that Yoongi was just as frustrated as he was with the way things were going, because they were the only ones trying to fix the messes the others had been thoughtlessly causing. And Jin… well, it was obvious that he didn't see any big implications beyond having to be scolded by Namjoon.

“Guys…” Hoseok started, sitting to Namjoon's right with a tired and defeated expression. If Namjoon and Yoongi were looking out for the integrity of the third party concerned, Hoseok was the one who was most concerned about the bonds that were breaking between them and that was why he had gone to Namjoon to have a group meeting again and set the boundaries once and for all. “You guys know that Namjoon is not just talking for the sake of talking. Jin, you don't need to get defensive. I understand that you tried to make the connection in good faith, but you have to understand that it was a very high risk. And while Dohyun is your friend, you know he's not very trustworthy.”

Jin grunted then, despite the kind tone Hoseok used to address him, and the others at the table only sent him a surprised look.

“Sure, now it's all my own damn fault. Not only do I have to deal with the stress of work, now I have to come to my supposed time off to deal with this too?”

“Hyung,” Yoongi called after him and frowned at the rude tone the older had used. “No one is saying it's your fault. We all have a part in this.”

“I don't care, Yoongi. Whatever's going on right now you know who's really to blame. And there's nothing you can do about it anymore.”

“Jin,” Namjoon called back and the aforementioned turned to look at him with daggers in his eyes. “You made the promise too.”

“Yes, one I never agreed to and you know it.”

Hoseok sighed and ran his hands over his face. “This is not the time to apportion blame, okay? I only wanted this space because I want us to fix this lack of communication and all this hostility that is affecting our living together.”

Namjoon turned to look at the table, finding the younger ones sealed in silence. None of them raised their heads and they showed signs of nervousness and anxiety, even if they tried to hide it under the tablecloth on the table.

There were too many things Namjoon wanted to control; there were too many things he wanted to solve; there were a number of other things that drove him mad and others that made him feel hopeless. Understanding all these emotions, his own or others', was wearing him down and perhaps that was why he was increasingly losing an ounce of patience. However, no matter how hard it was for him, Namjoon had to be sure that his priority was right in front of him. He had chosen to do so a couple of years ago and he could no longer turn back time.

“Hey, I'm sorry, okay?” Namjoon started once again and although Hoseok tried to shush him to calm down, he continued, “I know how I've acted during these days since everything started and I have not been very open to dialogue. For me it was… it was like crossing a forbidden boundary and I couldn't understand how you guys could jump over it without a second thought. It made my hair stand on end and I didn't… I didn't… I didn't know how to contain those emotions, I didn't know how to control them and clearly I didn't know how to express them. And the truth is that it worries me. I understand that you don't, because otherwise you wouldn't have done any of that, but I would like you to try to do that because this is not a unilateral action that will only affect you and will only be in your memories. You are affecting her too, and very much so. We were not good, not even friendly or cordial, so I need you to understand that all these things she will not see them as you think. Jungkook, you experienced it first hand. She hates us.”

Jungkook jerked on the chair and Taehyung was the one who reached over the table to take his intertwined hands. Jin sighed, finally letting the anger dissipate and Yoongi mimicked him, a little calmer as he watched his elder relax. Hoseok shook his head in assent, noticing the tension at the table dissipate a bit and how the young men held each other.

“And rightly so, because we made an inexcusable decision. And not only that, but she will now believe that it was a simple Tuesday for us and it's not. We made the promise for a reason and anything related we were supposed to consult first as a group. Sure, life happens and we get busy with a lot of things and have too much on our minds, but this was all inexcusable and we owe her more than forgiveness. We probably owe her our lives.”

“Hyung, I'm sorry…”

Jungkook was the most regretful. Since that harsh encounter, for which he dared to risk his presence in public and for which he believed it would be worth a try, Jungkook had never regretted something so much since the day of the promise. He still remembered the hatred your voice exuded and shivers ran down his spine. He had been unconscious, that was true, and he didn't know what he had let consume his body to have made that decision or to have simply acted without thinking. The possibility of seeing you again simply…blinded him. But that was never an excuse.

And Namjoon knew that. It was Jungkook who acted worse than everyone else, but he also couldn't deny to himself that had he found himself in the same predicament, with the same opportunity, he wouldn't have done the same. Maybe that's why he was so demanding of others, because that's how he reminded himself that he had no right to even think about it, much less act on their emotions, when they had taken away your choice as if they had any say in it.

“We can't erase what has already happened and what you have already done. All I ask is that you don't make it worse.” Namjoon implored, closing his eyes in silent prayer. “At this point there is no way to fix anything, and if every day we do things like this we are only inflicting pain on someone who doesn't deserve it. So please, for the love of God, leave her alone.”

The whole table was still silent, but this time Namjoon could clearly see everyone's face and notice their emotions right away, as he had always been able to do. He still didn't understand what had moved them to do all that; to Taehyung, to Jungkook, to Jin, to Jimin, despite everything they had discussed before, and he didn't understand how he hadn't been able to foresee their intentions from the beginning. But he could no longer focus on what had happened, but on what was happening and what he could still fix.

For that which had already been broken for years, Namjoon doubted too much that any of it could ever be fixed, no matter how hard he tried. And boy, would he have wanted to try.

“I'm sorry,” Jin mumbled, and it almost seemed like he had ripped the words from the back of his throat, but Namjoon took it with all his being and considered it the first victory on this new path.

When he finally dispatched everyone, Jimin remained seated to his left.

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

The blond looked disgruntled, and though it was clear that the tension was gone from his shoulders, in his gaze was that longing that Namjoon hadn't seen in years and certainly didn't allow in himself for all that he had previously exposed.

“Do you really think it's impossible to fix it?”

Namjoon hated knowing that the gleam in Jimin's eye had no future. At least not the one he wanted to believe. Namjoon, like everyone else, had spent sleepless nights thinking, remembering, reflecting and considering that they were never brave enough nor necessarily tough enough to earn that friendship once again. It had all gone to waste and it had been because of them.

“Yeah, I don't think that's possible.”

Jimin passed his saliva harshly, as if his mouth was dry, but he had to control and keep his emotions in check. Namjoon knew his every emotion and mainly knew how sensitive this whole issue was for Jimin, who from the beginning never agreed with him on anything and never hesitated to let him know. In fact, it took a couple of years before Namjoon could finally have this close relationship with Jimin again, until the blond decided to forgive him.

“It's silly to hope at this point, right?”

Namjoon also knew that Jimin struggled a lot to stop pointing blames, as Jin still did. He knew that, had Jimin had the opportunity in his hands several years in the past, he would have taken it and perhaps left them behind if he could. It was an extremely complex and long process to get the blond to trust Namjoon and those on his side again, which was one of the reasons why Hoseok was so insistent on talking and communicating and keeping everyone on good terms. It had cost them so much to re-form their trust that he couldn't allow it to crack once again.

Jimin nodded at his words when they were met with silence, for there was nothing Namjoon could say to comfort him. It was simply a heartbreaking situation.

“Tae and I will be with Jungkook.” Jimin assured Namjoon as he stood up. “Thank you… for trying.”

Namjoon only nodded, pressing his lips together in an attempt at a smile. Things would not automatically go back to the way they were before, as Namjoon's sternness in dealing with this issue on previous occasions was what initially caused this whole fiasco of miscommunication and hostility. He was heartily grateful that likewise Jimin took him into consideration, because he didn't know if he would be able to sleep knowing that everyone in that pent-house hated him. He didn't know if being the reason for the constant discord would allow him to have a respite of peace of mind at some point, when he was simply trying to do what he thought was best for everyone and what suited them on a sentimental level.

Kim Namjoon used to believe that he was good at dealing with any kind of problem. In his head, over which he circled as if it was a huge sphere and he was a hamster, Namjoon was sure that he could fix any situation and provide a solution to any misunderstanding, any fight or at least come to an agreement that would allow everyone to feel comfortable enough to move forward.

However, at that moment, the past tense wording was the most accurate.

Namjoon used to believe.

Jimin stopped halfway up the stairs, transfixed, and Namjoon watched him curiously. Then, the blond half-turned on his heels and Namjoon got front row view of Jimin's pale face and his exaggeratedly expanded eyes as he looked at his phone.

“Hyung…”

Namjoon came striding over, intrigued as well as concerned by the expression on the blond's face.

Jimin had his Instagram open, specifically his direct messages. There was the message there that had made Jimin stop dead in his tracks and all blood dropped to his feet, but Namjoon didn't understand what the reason for his surprise was until he saw the sender, and then his eyebrows disappeared into his hair.

y/n Let's meet

--

omg🙊🙊

tag: @rinkud@futuristicenemychaos@pastelpeachess@parapiop7@11thenightwemet11 @yoongznme @queenbloody @lynnettys-world @darlingz99 @dreamerwasfound @chaotickyrith @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthigs @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @kariningss @juju-227592 @zippaur @v4ksk4tz @kookierry @idk179634 @canarystwin @jincapableoflove @notrustfratedjin @elliott-calls @devilzliaison @ismelllikechlorine247 @19yearoldjstryingtolivelife @thatgirliehan @yuuuumii @welcometomyworld13 @sugarbaby69x @whoa-jo @cerulean1riz @kawennote09 @angelfuzzy2 @themoonsblueside @damn-u-min-yoongi @drenix004 @dhanyasri @borahaetelevision

[spacelessbian]

thoughts on Agatha All Along FINALE

Full spoilers ahead, 100% don't read if you haven't seen episodes 8 and 9.

I really enjoyed the finale, both episodes had a lot to offer and overall I am quite happy with how the show concluded. Things that I liked in no particular order:

The REVEALS. There is simply nothing better than a reveal that recontextualizes everything. And we didn't get just one, but two! Personally I found Agatha running a con and murdering women for centuries the more fun one, but Billy actually creating the Road was also really good and even though I've only seen the show once (unlike many people on here, no doubt), I can name many points in the story and in the dialogue where this is worked in and suddenly makes sense. Really great stuff.

Agatha and Nicky. I was dreading this part a little bit because I know Nicholas Scratch is some sort of big name in Marvel comics and I truly couldn't care less, so I'm pleased with what we got – a genuinely sweet yet tragic story of a mom and her son, destined to death even before being born. I was surprised (but in a good way) by Agatha's quiet reaction to Nicky's death because we know his death hurt her badly, but that's just how it is sometimes.

Agatha and Rio. I won't say I'd always had fate in Marvel to not mess this up, so yay! I don't think they did. This relationship is the heart of the show (and it is black and beats for the queers) and I think the writers did it justice (apart from one thing which I will get to in the next section). The kiss was intense, sexy, beautiful and also tragic and both Kathryn Hahn and Aubrey Plaza did a fantastic job with every piece of dialogue and every expression. I want them to play doomed lovers in five more projects, at least.

The coven. I already blogged about Jen but man, is it funny. Even this was Agatha all along, but she is such a menace she hasn't even realized that. I'm truly happy for Jen making it through and getting her power back. I'm glad we saw Alice's last moment and I liked how much Billy cared about her, Lilia and Sharon.

Agatha's death. I can't help myself, I need to go to that moment again. I was destroyed by that. It was so beautiful, both thematically and also visually and all. The flowers and mushrooms? The sun coming up? I kept thinking about Hozier's Work Song: When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold dark earth. No grave can hold my body down. I'll crawl home to her. (whadup, Rio reference)

Agatha and Billy specifically in that last battle scene. She was blue you guys, she was just completely blue and in the exact same blue that Billy wears in his silly Marvel costume. And Billy just offered her his power, without questions and without wanting anything in return! And she didn't kill him! (Writing that down, the bar is on the floor for Agatha lol.)

There are other small things (like the Subaru lol), but I am ready to go to the bad section now. Two things I did not like (hidden for lenght but also because not everyone wants to read negative stuff):

Agatha's ghost. I'm gonna say it. Agatha as a ghost looks fucking terrible and her existence itself diminishes her death scene. I do understand why they did it and even why she looks like that (Agatha in the comics, as I understand it, is Wanda's mentor and also an older white haired lady, so they wanted to keep that but it didn't make sense with Wanda anymore), but I just hate it. Especially the wig.

The Marvel stuff. Yes, I realize this sounds stupid, it is a Marvel show after all. We wouldn't get a stupid gimmick like ghost Agatha joining Billy to look for his brother if this wasn't a starting point for the Wiccan. And I like Billy, I do, I also (obviously) love Agatha, who was first introduced in WandaVision (I realize the hypocrisy), but it just doesn't work for me. I would rather think about the beautiful death scene with it's poetic tragedy than about white haired Agatha floating on a washing machine, I'm sorry.

That being said, I really really liked the whole show and I am happy to say I hooked in my best friend (if you are reading this, you are contractually obliged to like the post, you know how it is) and that I actually know other people irl who watched it and enjoyed it. I'm sad it's over and even sadder that in this day and age, noone will talk about it in about two to three weeks. Anyway, it was lovely.

[woodohwanedandproud]

@pranpats #the fact they have the best rain scenes i’ve ever seen #both rain scenes being pivotal in the show and their dynamic but specifically how juwon sees dongsik #juwon seeing dongsik’s humanity shine through in the first scene but not knowing what to do with it #and then the revelation in the rain and juwon being so overcome with guilt and pain kneeling to atone for dongsik to see how he sees him now #it’s…a lot @arcadianwishdom #rain and unconditional love and sacrifice #he fell just like that angel statue #isn't he the angel in DS' garden? judging. watching over. wanting to sacrifice himself to protect him. loving him with his entire being. @petekaos #i could write essays and essays and essays abt the two of these scenes having a direct conversation with each other #but for now i’ll just say that this is truly in line with the show’s catholic themes that pop up every now and then #in the first scene juwon is rebirthed in the sense of perhaps subconsciously realising for the first time #that the man he’s been keeping tabs on and excessively analysing is perhaps not a serial killer after all but a mildly insane kind guy #and that’s rly where it all goes downhill. we have water/rain as baptism and rebirth but the first scene also funnels the way for juwon’s #sacrifice and devotion and absolution that he gains in the second scene #where all the emotions he’s been keeping inside and firmly locked onto the subconscious plane of realisation have suddenly become Real #and he’s kneeling in the dirt in front of dongsik like he’s god or a statue of an angel or really just a man who was wronged many times and #now juwon is determined to make it right. and the rain serves as his absolution which is such a catholic guilt thing. to seek forgiveness #and absolution. and the rain is pattering down around him as he promises to avenge dongsik and yuyeon and perhaps all of manyang #and to fix what he did and his father did and perhaps the world did to all of them #which is a lot of words to essentially say that rain played a huge role in both of han juwon’s core realisations #that lee dongsik is more than what meets the eye and that he is ready to give it all up for lee dongsik and be rebirthed in the rain #and that again is a lot of words to essentially say that han juwon is very Pathetic and Wet

- s.r.w

[bellagrimfox]

You know what really grinds my gears about Helluva Boss?

The fact that they turned this funny looking owl man into the absolute worst character ever.

Playing Devil's Advocate

In the beginning, when I used to watch season 1, I didn't have much trouble with him. In fact, I thought he was kinda funny in some moments. Granted, looking back at them, a lot of moments were gross and pretty hypocritical like the way he talks and treats Blitz. But many people, myself included, wanted to see a redemption where he admits his wrongs and changes for his daughter Octavia.

And then season 2 started with Brandon being kicked from the writting team.

THAT Episode

The beginning of the end as I and many fans like to call it. This one episode managed to change everything about the portrayal of Stolas and Blitz's relationship, turning it from a morally grey/complex situation where Stolas was the one causing the most damage, into pretty much doomed yaoi. So the entire point of the season 1 finale is just thrown away now. How fun!!

As for the Stella debate, while there wasn't a lot of her character to call what happened to her a retcon, there was one thing that the episode did to make her a worse character by a writing standpoint. They flipped her from being a wife who was justifiably hurt to a villain that exists to justify Stolas and Blitz being a thing, even though the show gives us reasons why they shouldn't.

Rewritting the Stars

As much as I liked his personality in season 1, after season 2, I can't look back on those scenes exactly the same way without turning my brain off. So instead of a complete rewrite, I'd wanna propose a compromise. Have Stollas still be the primary antagonist/obstacle of season 1 but with more characteristics connected to his original myth.

I'm still torn on how I want to approach this rewrite but I have 3 clear ideas I want to get across:

Stolas and Blitz are both in the wrong.

Both parties are held accountable and try to redeem themselves.

Fixing everything that made Stolas irredeemable.

Helluva Boss Rewrite?

Because season 2 has made the rest of the show hard to enjoy, I'm thinking of completely rewriting the episodes and making the pilot canon since making it non canon ruins the premise of the show. I'm thinking of calling this rewrite project "Hell With It" and making the redesigns inspired by some of the unused concept art. I'd love to find writers and artists who share my vision of a Helluva Boss Rewrite.

[doyou000me]

Love In The Big City series adaptation: Episodes 3 & 4

On Knowing The Story and Characters (and their trash) Beforehand

CW: homophobia and attempted suicide 

I am late in writing this (@lurkingshan I’m sorry if it’s any extra trouble) but… it took a while before I managed to get through episode 4. This week was heavy. I cried. Episode 3 and 4 hit hard, and deep, and I am so very grateful that I read the book beforehand. Even going in prepared, knowing more or less what’s to come, I wasn’t prepared enough. How do you watch this, you who have not read the book and cannot brace for impact? 

After watching episode 3, I thought I was going to write quite a light hearted reflection this week. I took notes on the characters, especially Hyeong/Young-Soo and Eomma/Go Young’s mom, and I thought I was going to write about how we who have read the book are able to see through these characters’ bullshit from the very beginning. I was going to ask how they come across to the viewers of the series who haven’t read the book, and wonder how different our understandings of events and characters turn out. 

Then I watched episode 4, and it derailed everything. 

As much as the prior knowledge of having read the book allowed me to brace for impact at times, I also believe it gave a deeper understanding of what’s going on below the surface - and that makes some scenes, some lines of dialogue, cut all the deeper. 

The focus of episodes 3 and 4 is, to a large extent, homophobia and the fear of how others will judge us. 

We have the mother, who is religious and makes her every move to look good in the eyes of her fellow church goers and God - but I get the impression that the judgement of those around her is what she fears the most. She fights against judgement when her husband, Go Young’s father, cheats on her. She works hard to become successful and prove herself. She sends her teenage son to conversion therapy. She doesn’t wish to meet the person that her son sees as most important in his life, because she doesn’t want to face the fact that, after everything, there is nothing she can do to change the fact that her son is gay. 

Then we have Young-soo, simply called Hyeong in the book. He is a deeply complex character with many layers, and we dug deeper into him after reading part 2 of the book. Long story short, due to his past, he has a very complicated relationship with western influences, religion—and his own sexuality. It all boils down to a deeply rooted homophobia that not only affects himself negatively, but seeps out of him in a toxic poison of mixed signals and harmful actions. 

Between them, we have Go Young. Go Young, who has graduated, has lost his deeper, more meaningful relationships where he was safe and accepted, is struggling to make a place for himself as an author, is forced into a role as carer for his ungrateful mother, and is trying to live his life true to himself as an out and proud gay man. 

Go Young is in a position in life where he needs someone by his side. He needs someone who can support him, help him, share his burden and shine some light in the darkness. He seeks purpose, meaning, understanding—and finds Young-soo Hyeong. 

In the beginning, in spite of all the bullshit he spouts, he gives off an aura of being someone who has a deeper understanding of life—or, perhaps more importantly, he’s handsome, fit, and (once they get to that point) good at sex. In spite of all the mixed signals, Go Young can’t stay away. 

But the more we as viewers learn about Young-soo along with Young, we understand that there is no deeper understanding of the universe and meaning of life. There is little difference between Young-soo and Young’s mother, in that they are both unable to see Young for who he really is. Instead, they see the version of him that they are willing to tolerate, while constantly (more or less actively) working to change him and put him on a course to an “acceptable” life. 

Throughout episode 3 and primarily episode 4, we see how this wears on Go Young and it finally becomes too much when Young-soo denies that there was ever any love between them. We see Go Young come home, and in the harsh light of the kitchen lamp, he makes himself an ice coffee. With efficient movements, he gets the ice from the fridge, then goes to find the pills. Swallowing them down with his coffee drink, he takes pill, after pill, after pill–

And black. 

This scene plays out similarly, if not exactly the same, in the book. His mother’s words, when he wakes up in the ICU, are the same: 

“Don’t try so hard. We all die someday, anyway.” 

These are the first words from a mother when her son wakes up after a suicide attempt. There is no happiness, no relief, no reassurance, in those words. There is no welcome back, no thank God you survived and there is no why would you do such a thing? And Go Young, strapped to the machine, just stares at her blankly, his eyes dry and expressionless, because he has given up and expects nothing else. 

The ones who do welcome him back, who are overjoyed at seeing him awake and remind him that he is loved and that there are reasons to live, are his gay friends. The T-aras are shut out of the room, on the other side of a glass. They’re not allowed to be there, and in the book, they aren’t there—but I am very grateful that the adaptation added them as a hint of light after such a heavy episode. 

It is thanks to them that Go Young finally cried and finally decided to move again. 

Similar to the book, we get a time skip. Young has moved on. He has aged. He still cares for his dying mother, but while the hurt isn’t gone, he knows now not to expect anything from her. And when his own manuscript gets sent to him, full with corrections that Young-soo has made in red pen in an attempt to correct the story of Go Young’s own life, Go Young throws it in the trash. 

“It is not my trash.” 

So move on. Get rid of the trash. Be weary of the trash that others carry with them, and do not make it your own. 

Even if that trash is homophobia, put it where it belongs.