#they dont start having this dynamic until way later though

[loricciardo]

CHAPTER SIX | KARMA GOES BOTH WAYS

tags. original female character, heavy misogyny, toxic masculinity, verbal & physical aggression, toxic father-son dynamics, emotional distress, unresolved grief, psychological manipulation (if you squint), max can’t even say natalie’s name, i dont know how to write race scenes without making them boring.

a/n. i rewrote this chapter multiple times and i dont even know if i even like it. but it’s okay </3 poor max, all he wants is his father’s praise without having to doing anything to earn it

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Karma had a funny sense of humor, Max decided, as the car rolled into his grid slot at the front of the 19 man (+1 woman) pack.

The sun blazed down on the tarmac, heat shimmering off the formula cars as they lined up for the start. Max adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, glancing into the tiny rearview mirror. Not for the Ferraris or the Mercedes this time, but for the glint of scarlet just behind him; Natalie’s helmet.

It was impossible to miss, he decided. That garish, shimmering red with metallic overlays and tiny lightning bolts streaked across the sides as if she was trying to brand herself as electric. But what caught Max’s attention most (and what always did) were the seven small silver stars arched neatly across the crown. One for each of her father’s championships. A legacy engraved into lacquer. He’d heard Natalie say it was a tribute, something personal, but to Max, it looked painfully tacky. Too obnoxious, too showy, clinging to the past. Riding the tail end of someone else’s greatness. Natalie wore that helmet like a crown she hadn’t ever earned, and that infuriated Max.

Max had slowly eased off the gas just enough during the formation lap to let her sit uncomfortably close to his car. A small, petty part of him enjoyed it. Made her work for the gap. Let her stew.

The lights began Formula One’s familiar dance.

First light flicked on. Max exhaled slowly through his nose, letting the adrenaline settle into something cold and precise.

Second. Third. Fourth.

Fifth.

With a flick of his fingers over the button and a reflexive tighten of his grip on the wheel, Max launched.

It was clean. Perfect, even, if the Dutch man had to say so himself. The RB19 responded as if it was hardwired to his nerves, like the grip of the tires had fused into his body itself. There was no oversteer, no stutter, and he was able to accelerate way ahead of everyone else. Red Bull had truly created a monster of a car.

Max had controlled momentum that reminded everyone why he sat on pole. Why Max Verstappen was the reigning World Champion. Everyone else slowly faded in the dust.. until they didn’t.

A sudden whoosh of yellow light flashed in the corner of Max’s vision as he flew out of the second turn. His focus snapped to the trackside panels that were blinking amber. He realized something had gone wrong behind him.

His right foot stayed planted on the accelerator, but instinct sharpened his senses. His eyes darted to his mirrors, though all he could see was the shimmer of distant carbon fiber catching the Bahrain sun. No clear incident in sight.

The radio crackled in his ear a second later, static breaking just long enough for GP’s voice to come through. There was hesitation in the tone. Definitely not panicked, but heavy, like he was holding something back.

“Yellow flags, Max, possible Virtual Safety Car incoming.”

“What happened?” Max didn’t take his eyes off the apex as he slowly rounded the next corner, but his stomach coiled with something that wasn’t quite curiosity, but danced along with amusement.

“It was.. Alonso and Schumacher. Contact at Turn One.”

There was a beat of static. Max didn’t need to hear the rest of what GP was about to say. He already knew. The pit of his stomach dropped, sharp and cold, and a rough, heartfelt laugh scraped its way up his throat before he could stop it. It came out dry, bitter, and breathless as Max caught the lack of air in his lungs. Of course it was her again. Of course it was this. The one thing he didn’t want to deal with, the one distraction he couldn’t outrun. His hands tightened on the wheel, jaw clenched hard enough to ache. Of fucking course!

“She’s pitting currently. Looks like Alonso needs a new front wing. I believe.. Schumacher’s got a puncture.”

Max’s eyes narrowed behind the visor. “Again, if I wanted updates on her, I’d ask.”

“Copy.”

He barely had time to ride the wave of vindication before GP’s voice came back, quieter this time.

“This is important, Max. Schumacher’s retiring. Damage to her rear suspension. You’re the only Red Bull on track.”

And there it was. Barely a corner into the race, and Natalie Schumacher was already out. The only trace of satisfaction left was the tiniest pull at the corner of his mouth, hidden beneath the matte shell of his helmet. He kept his hands steady on the wheel, eyes forward, voice silent on the radio. He didn’t need details and he didn’t need to gloat. Because the result spoke loud enough: she couldn’t even make it to the checkered flag. Again. And for Max, that was the difference. The chasm that separated a two time world champion from that F2 rookie with nothing but her name.

“So Max, your first win of the season. How does it feel?”

The camera was too close for comfort and Max could already feel sweat drying at his temple as he nodded. Unsurprisingly, his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah,” he mused with his voice even, “it feels good. Starting from pole, you expect to finish up front. The car was strong, strategy was clean, and the team did a great job today.”

Cheers rippled through the crowd just behind the press barrier, but Max barely reacted for he had done this what felt like the thousandth time of his career already.

“And speaking of the team…” the reporter continued, almost too casually. “Can you comment on Red Bull’s decision to retire Natalie Schumacher’s car? From the outside it looked like a minor issue. A small tire puncture, rear suspension damage. What do you make of it?”

Max’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t break eye contact with the camera.

“I think my teammate said everything that needed to be said out on track,” Max answered bluntly. “I support the team’s decision, and I trust that they know what’s best.”

Per usual, the reporter wasn’t done. “This morning, Natalie told us she hoped her performance this year might inspire more young girls to get interested in motorsports. Do you think she can still be that role model… after today?”

It was a stupid question. Obvious headline bait, plain and simple. But Max’s patience had already worn thin. He could feel his victory slipping from the narrative. How dare they? Why wouldn’t they ask him about something that actually mattered?

“Well let’s just say,” the brunette man nodded coolly, “she would be more inspiring talking about the makeup she wears over racing.”

The reporter blinked, taken aback, but Max had already turned.

In the Red Bull garage, just a few moments after stepping down from the podium with champagne still drying on his race suit and the scent of burnt rubber clinging to his skin, Max expected applause. Maybe a few back slaps, a grin from Christian, some acknowledgment of the win. Instead, the moment he stepped beneath the bright fluorescent lights of the pit lane awning, he was hit with a brick of tension that was so heavy it beat through the adrenaline still shaking in his veins. Engineers barely looked up from their monitors while the mechanics exchanged stiff glances. And Christian Horner was already striding toward the driver with that particular frown Max recognized all too well. Sheer disappointment, almost disgust.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Christian all but shouted. He marched towards the driver and crossed his arms.

Max tossed one of his gloves onto the bench and unzipped his suit halfway. “Mm.. what do you mean?”

“Don’t act so bloody stupid,” Christian snapped. “You couldn’t let it go for one day? One race?”

Max shrugged, wadding up his balaclava. “If she can’t take a little media pressure, maybe she’s not cut out for all this.”

Christian stared at him, disgusted, for a beat longer, then shook his head and turned back to the pitwall, muttering under his breath.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway, stomping and unhesitating. Max didn’t look up at first but the rhythm was familiar now, embedded in the back of his mind like the hum of the RB engine. Her silhouette stretched along the floor before she even appeared, cast by the overhead lights in jagged, flickering lines. The curve of her ponytail, the purposeful swing of her stride. Max knew it was his teammate before she even crossed the threshold.

“Well done, Verstappen! You really know how to soak up the spotlight.” Natalie’s tone was low as she strolled into the garage with a tennis ball bouncing in one hand.

She didn’t look at him, or rather, she couldn’t. Natalie was way too angry with the man right now to even set her eyes on him. She just plopped into the chair across from the telemetry screens and pulled her knees up, curling into herself in that completely impractical way Max found bizarrely vexing.

There’s no way that’s comfortable, he thought. What’s wrong with sitting with both feet on the floor?

“At least I finished the race,” he scoffed and itched his scalp. “Unlike someone who tapped out before Lap Two. Not very Intimidator of you.”

“Sorry? I didn’t ‘tap out’. I came in because the team called me in.” Natalie looked bewildered at Max.

“Maybe the car just had enough,” he muttered. “Didn’t want to embarrass itself trying to drag the stupid idiot that sat in the cockpit around for fifty eight laps.”

She stood suddenly, faster than Max expected. By the time Max turned, she was right there. Not tall but close enough that he had to tilt his chin to keep looking down at her. Her voice dropped to a quiet, dangerous place.

“Fuck. You. And I mean it.”

Max smirked, leaning in ever so slightly. “Very original. Practice that one in the mirror too, Princess?”

Natalie’s palms smacked Max’s chest with a sharp, unexpected force that knocked him back a step. Enough to jolt the breath from his lungs and wipe the shit eating grin clean off his face. He hadn’t seen that coming at all. One second she was glaring, the next she was lunging, frustration spilling from her fingers as if it had been waiting to be unleashed since lights out.

Honestly, the shove wasn’t enough to hurt but it carried the weight of every insult he’d thrown her way, every sneer and sideways comment, and it landed with a startling thunk. Max blinked, stunned for half a heartbeat, before his eyes snapped up to meet hers. Natalie was already standing square again, arms glued at her sides, and a crooked, almost smug grin pulled at the edge of her mouth.

“Did you just.. push me?”

“Sure did.”

Max stepped forward instinctively. In his mind, closing the space between them might somehow give him back control of the altercation spiraling between them. The air crackled, their earlier argument still simmering just beneath the surface. But before he could say a word, a third voice cut through, gentle yet undoubtedly excited.

“Hey Tallie! What’s going—?” It was Mick Schumacher.

Max watched the tension in Natalie’s shoulders drop the second her brother’s hand landed on her arm. Mick didn’t say much. Just smiled, calm and solid, like always.

“You ready to go?” Mick asked his sister, glancing only briefly at Max.

Natalie didn’t answer right away. She stood there a second longer, something unreadable flickering across her face, before she nodded. She moved quickly, packing up her gear without a glance back at Max.

Max stood in place, jaw tight, one hand with a glove still on.

Mick paused just before the blonde siblings turned to leave. “Oh! Also, Mama called,” the blonde man informed, more tender now. “She wanted me to tell you she’s proud of you.”

Natalie’s face didn’t change but she stilled at the words. And then, in a quiet voice she sourly got out: “But.. I didn’t even finish.”

“I just knew you were going to say that! She didn’t care,” Mick chuckled, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “She admires the effort.”

They were proud of her? She hadn’t even made it through a full lap!

Max stood at the back of the garage, arms crossed, watching as Natalie disappeared down the hallway with Mick. She was laughing again. It was half hearted, sure, but nevertheless. And for what? A DNF and sympathy? He didn’t understand it. Couldn’t.

His jaw clenched as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, the screen lighting up with the same message he’d been ignoring since the cooldown room.

Pa: You only won by eleven seconds? Really? Get a bigger gap next time. See you in Jeddah.

Max didn’t even bother replying. He knew better by now to. The man shoved his phone back into his race suit, fingers digging into the fabric just a little more aggressively than necessary.

“Gina wants to call and hear all about it when we’re back at the hotel, okay?” Mick’s voice carried back toward the other garage. “And how about some ice cream to celebrate your first race in the books?”

“You are actually five years old, bru!”

“Uh, whatever do you mean?” Mick cleared his throat. “You hear that, everyone?! My little sister just had her first ever Formula One race! Did she finish? No! But she—OW!”

Max watched through the gap between the garages as Natalie smacked Mick’s arm with a glare. Mick grinned at her anyway, and she cracked a small smile in return. The kind of moment Max would’ve rolled his eyes at if the fire burning in his chest wasn’t so ruthlessly hot. He waited until they rounded the corner and were gone.

Then, without thinking, he grabbed the fuzzy tennis ball Natalie left behind earlier, still sitting on the counter, hurled it at the nearest wall.

The snap echoed through the garage. An engineer glanced up quickly from the monitor across the room but didn’t say anything. Max didn’t care who saw.

He let out a harsh breath that sounded more like a snarl, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the spot where the ball had bounced and rolled off into a corner.

The air in the garage was cooler now that the cars were off and the grandstands had mostly packed up, but it did nothing to settle the heat boiling under his skin. His win today had been clean. Dominant, even. Pole to flag. A fucking hat trick for God’s sake! And yet, all anyone seemed to care about was her.

He’d seen it in the press room. How the questions about his race had immediately pivoted to hers. He’d seen it in the eyes of the younger mechanics. Ones who had spent more time helping her get adjusted than reviewing his telemetry. Even Christian, despite the earlier reprimand, had seemed more concerned about Natalie’s reaction than proud of Max’s result for the team.

And the worst part?

There were cracks in Natalie today. Flaws in that perfectly constructed persona. The quiet, controlled tone she always used with the press? It had slipped. The tight grip on her PR smile? Gone. He’d seen the frustration, the wild flash in her eyes when she shoved him, the sharpness in her voice. For the first time, she looked human.

Natalie Schumacher looked vulnerable.

And Max planned to keep pulling at every thread until the whole thing unraveled. Until everyone saw what he already knew. That Natalie Schumacher didn’t belong in the same car as him. And she never would.

He looked back at the scuffed wall where the tennis ball had smacked and finally let his lips curl upwards. It wasn’t anything close to sweet.

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[cyanorth]

does tumblr know about blindfate (darkthur/oscar)

based on this

[midnightshindig]

So I'm not sure if your requests are open, so feel free to ignore this

Could I have a magical girl reader with nolan? You know those memes where the most powerful thing in media is friendship, so why not have the embodiment of friendship take revenge for her friends

Like maybe they were even buddy buddy themselves

You can decide if this is like a romantic type setting or not, along with if she kills him or not

Nolan & Magical Girl! Reader

since magical girls are usuaully (although NOT always!!) High schoolers, I decided it would be a conflict of interest for there to be romance, but dw I gotchu!

I just watched the pilot for "I dont' want to be a magical girl" (GOOOOO watch it if you haven't the VA is hilarious and the animatic is so good and comedy is punctual as hell) so that might influence this a little

hcs under the cut!

"Nolaaannnn!!" You come barreling at him, tackling him into a hug

You're older than your title would suggest, being in your mid twenties by now

but you've been doing this magical girl shit since you were fourteen, so don't underestimate you!

Either way, this prlongued career introduced you to Nolan, the batman to your sailor moon

It's giving "I think we have to kill this guy, Y/n." "Aw shucks...."

This has been the dynamic of your friendship for the last five or so years, meeting through a kaiju battle on the sea bordering Japan.

Since then the two of you regularly team up when he's in your part of the world

He won't lie, he finds your bright and bubbly nature charming

plus I mean come on, Magic Magic Starship beam? hilarious.

Your magic comes from a magical mascot and its all super cute and whatever

Nolan doesn't like it

and it doesn't like Nolan.

And it won't tell you why it doesn't like Nolan, just that he seems too familiar

But who cares!! You two have fun, he's a good fighter, plus, you're pretty sure you're breaking through to him

"Power of friendship? That's where your power comes from?" He asks incredulously, taking a bite of his burger as the two of you fly around Japan

"Mmmhm!" You beam back at him "I know it sounds corny, but it's true. The power generated due to human connection and community is what gives me my abilities. It's a very powerful thing, you know, friendship." You took a sip of your milkshake, shifting to be flying on your back lazily "I think our friendship is my favorite, though."

Nolan coughed "us? Friends? I'm sorry Y/n but I don't have friends."

"Ugh this again- Omniman come onnnnn you and me are best buds! Get over yourself and let me love youuuu" You tease, squishing your cheeks together dramatically

Nolan rolls his eyes, finishing of his burger and dropping the wrapper into the sky "Race you to Shibuya? I'm picking up Sushi for my wife for dinner, special request, she likes a restaurant there."

You roll your eyes back, with a smile "Yeaahhhh sure, but if I win you have to buy me some too!!"

He grins, knowing it won't happen "Okay- Go!"

You've already started, but It won't matter

he's stronger and faster than you'll ever be

This doesn't matter much, though, and you keep fighting together

culminating in one particular fight with a particularly evil space princess

"Oh god not this bitch..." you mutter under your breath, before tightening your grip on your magic wand

"Friend of yours?" Nolan asks, approaching from the other side of the world "I was in the area" he lies

you can tell, but choose not to say anything

"Yeah, she's like convinced she'd my sister and wants me to help her take over the Earth."

Nolan's ears prick up at this

Take over the Earth?

Not on his watch.

He allows you to fight the woman for an extended period of time, staying benched until it appears the woman might kill you

"It was good knowing you, Y/n. I wish you could've joined my side..." her own magical beam charges, aimed at your head

and Nolan panics a little

He could easily kill her after she kills you

it would save him the effort of having to kill you himself later

but the pang in his heart won't let him, and before he knows it, he's got the space princess by the throat, flying so fast he breaks the sound barrier into space

Once out of earshot, he pulls the princess close "The Earth isn't yours to conquer. And if you ever come back, or lay your hands on Y/n again, I will fucking kill you and your entire people."

He returns to Earth to check on you, finding you right where he left you

"Awwwww you big sap, you worried about me!" You beam up at him, as he carries you to a hospital

"Of course not, don't be silly."

"Oh cmonnnnn we're friends after all!"

He sighs a deep, reluctant sigh "Yeah, okay. You're right, I'm your friend."

"and I'm yourrsssssssss" You grinned, loopy from the pain

"Yeah... sure." Nolan relented "I'm your friend."

It's a couple years later, and you're pushing twenty eight when Nolan tries to take over the world

You'd been retired for a year or two at this point, but how could you sit at home and watch this happen?

Ugh- you'd even need the support of your old teammates, who you called frantically

thankfully, they saw the news and had the same idea

So a five person magical girl group of late 20's women go to help Mark as they make their way to the scene of the fight

Well it doesn't matter because Nolan CRASHES right into your crew, Mark under him as the two fight

"Okay ladies, lend me your strength!"

"Wait, Y/n did we just come here so you can power u-"

"YES MEI NOW LEND ME YOUR STRENGTH-!" You grit out with a smile

"okay, jesus...."

So you like smile magic princess baja blast the shit out of Nolan, which only serves to get his attention

"Y/n? What are you doing here? Get out of here!" He yelled, venom in his voice and blood (not his own) dripping off of his face and fists

"Not until you stop being an asshole, Omniman!"

"IM SERIOUS Y/N GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE."

You glared at him "IM serious, stop now."

He stood up, holding Mark down with his foot as he faced you "You don't want to do this."

He wasn't leaving you much of a choice "You're right," tears welled in your eyes "I don't."

Taking your magical wand in your hands, you began to twirl it, the girls on your team recognizing the move with deadly perception. You'd only used it once.

The air around you began to swirl into a vortex, the girls on your team funneling behind you to avoid the blast

You could only hope it missed the boy.

"I CAST: MAGIC OF FRIENDSHIP-"

(god Idk how to write action bear with me)

and it NUKES The guy.

NUUUUUUKES THE GUY

Nolan? Dead. BONES.

You descend to ground level, pulling the-- thankfully alive-- Mark from the rubble

"Hey- thank you. Uhm.... fuck..." Mark is bloody and bruised and barely able to talk, close to passing out

you pull Mark up, carrying him like how Nolan carried you, to the hospital.

It's a bittersweet memory...

I guess you weren't friends after all.

[gr1ffins]

Make Me Happy

pairing. griffin lovell (harley) x gn!reader

synopsis. you and griffin are on your way to wreak havoc on liverpool, but before you can get there, you end up in a slippery situation.

notes. this is more of a character study for griffin as i get more accustomed to writing for him. i do intend to write something for y'all actually arriving and completing your mission in liverpool, but i wanted to get more comfortable with the dynamic i imagine he has with reader first. ignore the occasional ooc, i swear im working on it.

additional warning for discussion of political topics. i like to think i am well informed, but i am certainly not a literary academic like kuang. i dont have her vast knowledge of language or close fondness for classics, that allow her to reference them throughout her works in tasteful ways. she clearly researched 1830s politics and history in a way i am not familiar with. i am just a stem student, with way too much to say about chemical bonds and entropy. so. be warned that the political conversations here are limited to what i feel as though i can accurately represent. i tried my best. thank you for understanding.

word count. 4.5k

part 2

“You’re going to start growing icicles,” You chide fondly.

Griffin casts you a sullen, narrow eyed glance from over his shoulder, even as he shivers stubbornly. “Yes. It’s a bit cold out.”

You snort, mindful of your steps over the icy cobblestone beneath your feet as you follow behind him into Stafford. The market town bustles around you, with carriages narrowly dodging out of your way and small town dogs nipping at each other’s heels as they scurry along the alleyways between buildings.

“It's been snowing since dawn, and it’s only going to get worse later,” You press on, despite seeing how Griffin’s body tenses. “If you weren’t so insistent on being miserable, you could borrow my—“

Griffin halts, turning around to face you. “Cut that out.”

You grin. “I hardly know what you mean.”

“I need an ally, not a nanny,” He says, and through one of the holes in his pockets you can see his balled up fist.

“Then consider me the Patroclus to your Achilles.” You mock salute, grinning even wider at how his nostrils flare.

“I don’t see you taking any spears for me.”

“Nonsense, I would gladly fight the gods and go to war for you.” A beat passes. “You’ve seen me take on Anthony when he’s irate for your sake, is that not close enough?”

It's true, Anthony and angry don’t really belong in the same sentence, but Anthony tends to have similar feelings about Griffin being unsupervised with gunpowder.

To his credit, Griffin’s expression smooths, though you can tell he’s not pleased, simply tired of your nonsense.

“A drink then,” You try again, determined to keep his fingers from freezing off. If he won’t take your help, at least the alcohol will warm him up. “It’ll hold you over until we get to the lodge. We’re not in any rush.”

Griffin fixes you with a scrutinizing look, eyes darting over your features as he searches for any trace of mischief or patronizing.

“You’ll get the bill,” Griffin finally concedes. He’s walking again before you can gloat, leaving you to scurry after his brisk pace.

You smile, a skip to your step. “When do I not?”

It doesn’t take long to find a pub, tucked tightly between a brothel and a poorly stocked convenience store. It smells of grime and something sticky, with too many scurrying shadows resembling rodents in the corners, but no one acknowledges you both as you enter and that is the best you could ask for.

Griffin slips into the farthest empty table of the bar within a few quick strides, pushing out the chair opposite of him with a stretched leg. You gladly take a seat, knees brushing with his under the table.

“We’ve still got a five hour walk,” You sigh, elbows resting on the tabletop to support the weight of your head in your hands. “Maybe we should get something to eat too.”

Griffin raises a brow, lips quirked up knowingly. “With what allowance?”

You slap your pockets confidently, only to realize they are a lot more empty than you remembered. You laugh nervously. “We’ll grab something to eat at the lodge then.”

Your stomach loudly disagrees, and Griffin shakes his head with a low huff of amusement.

You’re a third of the way between Birmingham and Liverpool, and a week ahead of a shipment that is supposed to be coming in containing enough silver to feed an army.

Well, if the letters from Griffin’s correspondents are correct at least.

He’s always vague about the details, and even more secretive about his letter’s recipients. Duo missions like this one are dangerous for that reason.

Griffin likes being in control, likes knowing. He has a hard time relinquishing that advantage, even when it would benefit you both. Even though you’re supposed to be partners.

You like him so much that you let him lead you blind.

Unfortunately, the danger is a very large part of Griffin’s allure and thrill. With him, the not-knowing and mortal peril is enough to keep you distracted from the much more frightening aspect of your relationship.

“Don’t drink,” Griffin warns, frowning at how you study the menu posted over the bar. “You’re already bundled like you're preparing for a Baltic winter, and I’m not babysitting a drunk the rest of the way to Newcastle.”

“I’m hardly a lightweight, take it easy,” You wave him off, smiling at the barmaid when she catches your eye. “Besides, I’m paying.”

Griffin gives you an incredulous look.

You make a gesture with your hand, signaling for two drinks and the barmaid nods. Turning back to Griffin, you return his cynical expression with a curl of your lips.

“At least one of us needs to have a good time.”

“I’ll have a good time in Liverpool when we blast those British ships out of the water,” Griffin says gruffly, foot tapping the floor. The pub is loud, loud enough that you almost don’t hear him; thankfully so too.

“I’m sure you will. I know how hard you’ve been working on those little explosives of yours,” You say, a little morosely. You certainly aren’t jealous of bombs for hogging all his attention, because that would be ridiculous.

“Don’t patronize me,” Griffin bristles. “They’re not little. We’re not going to want to be anywhere near them when they go off.”

“I know, you’ve given me the safety drill at least forty times now, grandpa,” You say, rolling your eyes.

Griffin is right though, he’s getting better at making more destructive weapons and match pairs. He has a real knack for handling gunpowder and all things deadly, picking and patching himself up every time he makes an error.

You're convinced the only reason he refuses to replace his second skin of a coat is because it holds practically a warehouse of weapons in his intricate inner pocket system he’s sewn in.

No, that you sewed in for him. He came to you one night with pricked fingers and an exasperated expression, needle and thread in hand. He hadn’t even needed to ask, you just took the coat from him and told him to retrieve it in the morning.

You stayed up all night sewing a second layer into the coat, hiding the seams of the pockets inside, allowing for better insulation and a sturdier structure. Griffin was very quiet when you’d given the coat back, and practically avoided you for weeks afterwards.

You don’t take it personally.

You also try not to take it personally that he hasn’t come to you to fix any of the tears or tiny holes in his coat since.

A strained silence falls over the both of you. Griffin watches the other bar patrons carefully, no doubt making note of their conversations and pocketing what little information he can gather. Part of you wishes Anthony was here to cheerfully smooth over whatever tension has been so clearly bubbling between you and Griffin.

Your relationship with him is clearly hurtling towards… something. These past few months have felt like you both have been in a dance that only you and him know the steps to. It’s like riding tidal waves of great highs, where you both laugh and argue and delight in one another’s presence; and immense lows, where Griffin pushes you as far away as he can and disappears like smoke between your fingers—or refuses to answer any questions you have for him, only providing you as much as he deems personally necessary.

The lows are typically caused by your stubborn attempts at getting him to be more vulnerable, though. God forbid you try to get him to eat a little more, or stay in one place long enough to have a full night's rest. What an unforgivable sin it is to want to see him cared for; warm, soft, and happy.

He pushes, you pull.

“Liverpool is going to be colder,” You finally break the silence, turning away from Griffin to avoid his frustrated stare and flag down your waiter.

“We aren’t going to be in Liverpool long,” Griffin says, still glowering even as his drink is set before him.

“Liverpool is going to be cold and wet,” You insist anyway.

“I’ll be fine.”

“You really think I need two scarves and extra socks to stay warm?”

“You were the one who insisted on bringing them,” Griffin drawls, skirting around your attempts with practiced ignorance.

Despite how often he comes to you for help, Griffin hates being cared for. Or well, you suspect it has less to do with hate, and more to do with uncertainty. You’re not sure anyone has ever cared for Griffin, at least anyone he can remember. Knowing how to give and take is a difficult skill that Griffin has made very clear he has no intention of learning.

He simply takes and you let him. Because one of these days you’re hoping he’ll take what he really needs.

The same awkward silence from before settles over you both again, except this time you’re peeved. You sip at your drink leisurely, listening in on other conversations to try and distract yourself from how Griffin is currently burning holes through your skull with his stare.

It's not like you don’t understand where he’s coming from. He’s made it abundantly clear he can take care of himself. You yourself have fought tooth and nail to prove the same to your colleagues.

But you don’t understand why he has to fight you, too.

“I saw you with your little brother,” You cave impulsively, because you can’t stand being in silence with Griffin when he’s so clearly using it as a way to punish you.

“Oh? So you’re following me now?” Griffin does not raise to your bait, instead flipping it on you with an air of nonchalance. “Didn’t take you for the type.”

“No, not like that,” You scramble to find the right words, flushing a little at the ears from how pleased Griffin seems to have caught you off guard. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice me, you were walking through Kennington. I thought I was seeing double.”

”And?” Griffin asks, tilting his head and crossing his arms. “What did you think?”

“I think you both have the same hair and facial structure, but that’s about where your similarities end,” You say, being intentionally vague.

“Perceptive,” Griffin laughs, “What gave it away?”

“He follows you like a lost puppy.” You smile despite yourself. “He hasn’t got a clue in the world.”

“You were like that once too,” Griffin points out. “You loved Babel almost as much as he does.”

“Hardly,” You object, smile falling. “It wasn't Babel I was in love with.”

For some reason, this sentence seems to put Griffin on edge. “Then what was it? Certainly not the galas, we could hardly get you to show up to them.”

“My stipend,” You sigh dreamily.

Griffin rolls his eyes with an exaggerated motion.

“I’d give anything to be paid for learning again. I miss when I used to be able to blow half my budget out on sweets and drinks. I didn’t know how good I had it,” You plow on, bemoaning your youth.

“Yes, that’s how they get you, buffets and crisp new clothes, a cozy apartment and a filthy income, it really keeps you distracted,” Griffin sneered, and you can tell that you have set him off.

Part of you understands that this argument is useless. Griffin already knows everything you have to say—this topic has been practically beaten to death—yet it’s still one of his favorites.

Maybe he likes seeing you get frustrated. Maybe it’s revenge for how uncomfortable you make him with your attempts at coddling. Whatever the case, you’re determined to not let him win.

You force your limbs to relax despite how on edge his tone makes you.

“I’m assuming your brother is neck deep in it, too,” You say carefully, trying to redirect his ire.

“Of course,“ Griffin replies brusquely. “He especially loves living in both worlds. Helping Hermes seems to be more of an adventure than a reality to him.”

“He's going to get hurt,” You realize aloud, watching as Griffin’s nostrils flare at the suggestion. “He hasn’t got a clue how much danger he’s in.”

“Perhaps,” Griffin admits, and it sends a chill down your spine.

You quickly shove the thought of Griffin’s insecurities being taken out on his younger brother in such an indirect, and almost cruel way, out of your mind. You try very, very hard not to think of the wide eyed, giddy look on Robin’s face when he spoke with his brother so eagerly. You have to trust that Griffin wouldn't be so indifferent to leave him like that to the wolves.

“He’s not the only one,” You resign yourself to having the more difficult conversation with Griffin, because clearly, speaking about his brother is going to get you nowhere. “Seems like this whole country is asleep.”

Griffin regards you thoughtfully, before nodding in agreement. “It’s a miracle at that, with how many slip-ups parliament makes, it’s through sheer economic dependency that this country maintains itself.”

“It’s through parliament’s exploitation that this country is up and running. The wealthy like acting as though they’re so above the common person that they hardly realize they need them for their daily lives to function,” You say, grateful that Griffin dropped the topic of his brother so easily.

“And the colonization of practically every surrounding country and their people for monetary gain, but sure— let’s discuss how the average British citizen is playing an active role in that.” This is Griffin’s favorite point of argument. You know he loves talking about it, loves getting heated over it, and loves rehashing it at every opportunity you allow him.

“I think the radicals and recent strikers would disagree with you, but be my guest,” You make a sweeping gesture with your hand, as if giving the floor to Griffin.

“They’re relying on human selfishness. Relying on the average person’s desire to live a complicit, easy life. It’s the same selfishness that they then use to exploit those people.” Griffin’s hand moves in quick, open gestures, his tone bordering on lofty.

“I don’t think wanting to live is selfish,” You counter, pulling your gloves from your hands and laying them flat on the table. “I think they’re spinning the common person in circles with entertainment and commodities until they’re so dizzy they don’t realize how far down they’ve been pushed. It’s hard to worry about how small the bubble of wealth is, when your biggest concern is whether or not you’re going to make it home after a day of work.”

Griffin laughs. “Excusing the willful negligence of Britain’s violent oppression makes you just as much of a bystander. What happens when it’s the common person who is the oppressor? What happens when it isn’t about wealth, but instead, imagined racial superiority?”

You untwist one of your scarves from your neck, sighing, “These people do not understand that what they’re living in isn’t normal because they have never known anything else, and their government certainly isn’t going to promote their education if it means they’ll rise against them— and you know they would—“ You cut the growing argument you can already see Griffin building at your words. “Only the wealthy can afford education and that’s why they don’t care about the violence of their empire, because they are the direct beneficiaries of it.”

Griffin chews harshly at his chapped lips, ripping at the dead skin until it bleeds. His gaze is focused intently on the figures entering the bar, his foot hitting the ground in quick tapping motions.

“Britain needs a culture shock. An average working person is more empathetic than you might imagine. I know they’re cruel and I know you’ve seen more of it than I probably ever will, but the point still stands that we need their help,” You lean over the table to reach a hand out, pushing one of the longer strands of hair from Griffin's face. It's a little wet from the snowfall outside, which has now melted, matting it to his head.

Distantly, you think of cutting it for him, and wonder what kind of devil deal you would have to make for him to agree to that.

It's your turn to grin at his off guard expression, how he flinches away and glances between the crinkles at the corners of your eyes and your fingertips. You pull your hand back into your lap. “At least, that’s why I’m doing this. I think the common folk are smarter than we give them credit for. This empire, this world— it doesn’t change until they do. Until they call for change.”

“You’re living in a fantasy world where you imagine these people are going to wake up and realize all their wrongdoings. They won’t. They are cruel creatures. Being uneducated doesn’t stop them from following in parliament's footsteps, I know you’ve seen it,” Griffin says, scooting his chair further from the table and taking his drink with him. He is looking anywhere but you.

“Well, that too,” You concede, “I’d like to find a way to get them to direct all that violence towards the people they’re truly mad at. It’d be nice to see it happen in my lifetime.”

Griffin barks a laugh. “Good luck.”

Taking a swing of your large pint, you swallow the golden ale of your cup until it’s halfway gone. Setting the cup down, you lean forward until your forehead hits the table with a thud, fingers still clutching the handle of your drink. With the taste of the liquor still simmering on your tongue, you find the confidence to criticize him openly. “You have no faith in humanity.”

“I have no faith in racist Brits with superiority complexes that stem from misguided preconceptions set by their government,” Griffin reiterates, “One that is playing them all for fools.”

“Exactly, they’re playing them for fools. That's why we have to do something about it.” You lift your head to take another drink, then clink it back down. “How many more stealth missions is it going to take before we start getting our point across?”

“As many as it takes.” You can feel Griffin trying to tug your drink from your hand.

“As many as it takes until it kills us,” You grumble cynically, laying your cheek on the table to peer up at Griffin as he finally manages to take your ale away from you.

Griffin is very silent, and very still. He’s watching you with an expression you can’t discern. His eyes are like two dark clouds, storming with volatile emotion and the briefest flicker of forlorning. It stirs the same somber feeling in your gut that you get when it rains.

With a blink it’s gone, back to his meticulously crafted mask of indifference.

You exhale until your whole body is slack, forcing yourself to look away from him.

“No, get up. You’ve had enough time to rest. I want to arrive before sundown.” Griffin moves to stand, pushing both your drinks to the furthest edge of the table from you.

You catch one of his feet between your ankles before he can fully retreat, linking them together to trap him. He yanks his foot, but you press your legs together tighter, grinning at the annoyed look he gives you.

“Do you enjoy being difficult?” He asks, eyes flinty.

“Only when you look at me like that,” You tease, lifting your head to blink at him through your lashes.

Griffin practically rips himself from you, forcefully pulling his foot from your grasp in a way that leaves your ankles stinging. He stands very abruptly, enough so that several other bar-goers peer over to see what the commotion is about.

Scooping up your gloves and scarf, Griffin takes them in one hand and slaps some pence on the table with the other. Nevermind how he insisted that you be the one to pay.

You’re hoisted up to your feet by your wrist, and then practically yanked all the way out of the pub. You trip over your feet, a mixture of alarmed and uncoordinated, only managing to balance yourself when Griffin stops near an alleyway down the street.

He faces you with a sour expression, the muscles of his jaw clenched tight. You very much wish you had listened to his advice, because you can already feel your head starting to grow fuzzy. It was a lot warmer in the pub, and being back outside with all the snow and ice isn’t doing your senses much good.

Griffin loops the scarf you took off earlier around your neck, wrapping it tight and yanking. You stumble slightly, reaching out to support your balance on the building wall beside you.

“Griff—“ Your voice is muffled as Griffin shoves your gloves in your face, holding them there even as you freeze up with momentary confusion.

He only lets go when you bring your hands up to cup his own, fingers brushing against his and the knitted fabric of your ratty gloves. Part of you wants to be upset with him for making a scene at the pub, to say something smart like you always do and start another argument. You have half a mind to scold him for being so careless with your things and dragging you like a doll.

You don’t say any of that. Through the fabric on your face, you say, “Thank you.”

Griffin takes a step back, eyes darting elsewhere as he gives you a stiff nod. “You can thank me by keeping up, I’m serious about not babysitting.”

It must be the alcohol, perhaps the cold, or maybe even your imagination that has you seeing a reddish tint at the tips of his ears.

He's running away again, his coat flourishing like crow wings behind him as he practically power walks off. His lean, haggard form strides quickly, halfway down the street before he notices you aren’t following.

“Are you deaf?” He asks, though there’s no bite to it.

Your heartbeat is loud, and your face feels unusually flushed. You blink at him several times before coming back to reality and scrubbing a hand over your face to clear your mind. That was weird.

“Sorry, I think hearing your voice all the time finally did my ears in,” You apologize once you catch up, mindful of where you step to avoid where the road is iciest. “Only so much abuse they can take.”

Griffin elbows you, perhaps a little harder than necessary, and you chuckle as you pull on your gloves. You mean to return the gesture in the same playful way he had done it, but when you go to shove Griffin, you seem to forget that he is a lot lighter than he looks.

Perhaps if he had taken your endless droning about eating three full meals a day, he wouldn’t have fallen over so easily.

Griffin slips, the worn soles of his boots sliding against the slick, icy cobblestone. You’re barely a snort into laughing at his desperation when one of his hands manages to find purchase at your wool scarf, yanking you down with him.

You screech, making a mad attempt to scamper away, but it’s no use. Griffin’s shoulder collides with your nose. Your knee knocks against his thigh. There’s a brief moment where you consider pulling his hair just to piss him off further. Instead, you both push against each other helplessly to stay standing. The descent is ridiculous and humiliating, with you both landing on your asses in a spectacular heap; cold, wet, and bruised. But you’re still laughing, slapping at Griffin’s bicep to try and get him to release your poor stretched scarf.

It’s nearly impossible to breathe, and even harder to care about the strange looks you're both getting. Griffin looks somewhere between wanting to murder you and wanting to die himself.

But when you finally manage to calm your giggle-fit and meet his eyes properly, Griffin is no longer red in the ears with shame.

For the briefest moment, something tender crosses Griffin’s face, so soft and vulnerable that your breath catches in your throat.

It’s gone in an instant, but the sight of it is burned so deeply in your memory that you’re certain it is the only thing you’ll be able to think about as you toss and turn before you sleep.

It’s only then that you realize you’re practically laying on top of him, limbs tangled in a dramatic display. You flush, scrambling all over again to give him space. When you finally manage to make it back to your feet, you offer Griffin a hand, but he waves you off.

“I think you’ve helped enough,” He grumbles. His feet are more stable under him this time, and he takes care to not flail around the same way you had. “I distinctly remember telling you not to drink for this exact reason.”

You can’t help yourself. You’re giggling again, even as Griffin fixes you with an exasperated glare. Part of you acknowledges that this, surely, is where you apologize for embarrassing him; but you can’t find it in yourself to feel sorry for him.

Guessing from the twitch of Griffin’s lips that he is trying to smother, he isn’t really bothered by the new bruises you’ve given him either.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Thank you, I’m brushing up my act for when the circus comes around.”

“As if anyone would pay to see your sorry face,” Griffin snarks.

You’re determined to crawl under his skin, live in the dirt under his nails, and grow from the roots of his hair. You shove him again, and his brief expression of panic fills you with vindicated satisfaction.

“Asshole,” You smirk.

“Cheeky shit,” Griffin grins back, wolf-like and all teeth.

Maybe he’s finally ready to let you.

You both break into fit of laughter, with Griffin keeping his to a low chortle. You kick his shin, dodging out of the way when he shouts and tries kicking back at you.

It's like you’re kids again, racing through the streets of Oxford without a clue where your future will take you besides a cushy position among other honored academics. Hopeful, bright, and so wonderfully oblivious.

After a few minutes of chasing each other through the back alleys of Stafford, you find yourselves at the edge of town. You're huffing, and Griffin manages to catch up, knocking the back of your head playfully as he strolls past you.

From over the top of his shoulder, you can see the way his cheek curves, rounding up with what you know to be his crooked boyish smile, that he hides the best he can from the world.

You have no idea where this feeling you have for him is going to take you both. You’re not even certain you want to find out if it means jeopardizing what you have now. But you do know that it grows a little stronger at the sight of his smile, and maybe that’s enough.

[palmerpillled]

hi. i dont go here but I wanna talk.

imagine being Josef Newgarden, 13 and after trying a few sports and not being too good at any, you starting karting, you immediately pick up four titles. you love it. you travel to europe and become the first american to get a Formula Ford Festival title. Europe is harsh to you and in 2011 you return back to america. Something about the home soil fuels you and you win an Indy lights championship. you get into indycar the next year.

meanwhile, across the world in New Zealand, Scott Mclaughlin becomes the youngest driver to win a Supercars race. He breaks the record for most wins in a single season. He's dominant, simple. He's just like you in every way possible. Little do you know, your future best friend is watching you become Penske Perfect. He's watching and rooting for you from an ocean over.

In 2021, Scott comes over from Supercars. You werent ever too close to anyone on the grid- but you two click. You were so used to keeping your friends close and your enemies closer, that you let him in.

in 2021, you have a best friend. you both know that being teammates and friends won't work for long. you both can bet on it long before it happens. in 2022 you create a youtube channel and start making little videos with Scott. People like you guys, they think you're funny. You're not just Josef Newgarden, 2x Indycar champion and Penske driver, but also you're 1/2 of Bus Bros. This is the closest you've ever been with a teammate on this level. It's an emotional dynamic. It carries on into 2023 with a little less passion. Heartbreak in inevitable. Some days you wanna make sure he's okay, other days you hope he suffers. You wanna break his leg- quick and aggressively, he wants to beat your skull in. You'll film a Bus Bros episode that weekend and pretend you didn't openly say that in an interview. You mindlessly believe it will be resolved, that you two can fix it when it falls apart. Scott is a realist, saying you're a limited duo. You're both too egotistical to believe you're wrong is what he says.

2023 wraps up and it's your worst season finish. What happened to Penske perfection? You were bigger than the whole sky, a demon on ovals. You were everything Penske represented. Scott's making you soft. What happened to your perfection that people said was impossible? Scott is not only your best friend, but your teammate. And he's starting to win. He's the friend you held as close as your enemies until you realized he was just like them. Coming into the 2024 season, you unfollow everyone. Rumors are spiraling and you end Bus Bros, quietly taking down the merch site. Scott refuses to answer questions besides saying to ask you about it.

It's the streets of St. Pete, Penske has an illegal car- you all know about it. You and Scott get a 1-2. Podiums are publicity, everyone has their eyes on you. Be as cordial as you can, you'll crop him out of your photos later on instagram.

The cooldown room is more tense, Scott refuses to sit by you. The cars illegal, they figure it out in Long Beach. The St. Pete 1-2 gets stripped away from you. Scott sees things level and you're hungry only for another win, to be seen as the winner you once were. The Barber press conference is an embarrassment for you, you're spilling your guts on a white table while cameras flash. Scott admits to it and takes subtle digs at you in an interview. (x,x)

Scott takes pole position at the 500. Scott leads the most laps. But you won. Your hunger motivated you and here it is, the proof you're better. You lost your best friend for it. you're the first back to back Indy 500 race winner since 2001-2002. People are calling you the villain. This is how it ends. Scott makes fun of you during your speech, "I still love you my bus bro." And thats how it ends. You're still cropping eachother out of posts. You seldomly talk. It's not over though, and it never will be.

Oh and Will Power is there.

[venomous-qwille]

hi qwille!!! I got questions for u! you have lots of characters planned out, and that’s super cool! but how do u usually go about that process? like all your characters are very unique, and I wonder about the design process, as well as how you make their personality distinct! how do you make character dynamics/relationships? because all the scenes I’ve read so far make the characters feel really organic, and mesh really well together! (sorry for all the questions! I’m super curious ^w^)

Hiya! Here is an answer I wrote for this question on discord recently ^^

I will try answer this as thoroughly as possible!

There was a LOT of kill your darlings involved in making characters for gitm. Originally I had a very long list of character ideas that I cut down and down based on the kind of things and themes they would give me the opportunity to write about. I love long ensemble cast stories, thinking back to ones I particularly enjoyed and the ways those characters gelled together helped me a lot. The most important thing when selecting characters was making sure they would give me something interesting to write about! I was also very keen on ones that let me explore the fics main theme of Family from a different angle. I'm not sure how helpful this all is! But yeah, I try to be pretty strict with myself about what I include. The only reason I would include two characters who were very very similar would be to emphasize a difference/divergence between them later on. Characters have to justify themselves by bringing something unique to the table, even if that thing is just a 'very different outlook on life' to the rest of the cast. Over time a lot of those character ideas became more fleshed out in my brain, and characters that were cut from the original shortlist made their way back in. They still have to be able to narratively justify themselves in order to earn a channel in the discord though!

For the gitm guys, while I dont have a literal sheet I fill out I do make sure to answer a couple of basic character work questions: What lie do they believe about themselves/the world? How does it impact the way they interact with others? What central theme do they embody most? What do they want more than anything else? How do they feel about humans? Who are they at their best and who are they at their worst? I found that by answering these sort of questions it helped me discover more about them, which creates more questions- rinse and repeat. The more questions I answered the further away they would get from each other in terms of similarities. The thing that really helped with the gitm boys, especially because their origins are so similar, was leaning in to how different their experiences were post-fazco. They are different people because the world has made them that way. Messing around with foils has been useful too! Characters are no fun in a vacuum, it's how they interact with others that makes them interesting. I like to create ones that will bring out the best and the worst in each other. I think about opposites a lot and I really like narrative symmetry- what lessons can the characters learn from each other? I find that stuff super exciting to read so I really wanted to include it. Some examples of character foils in gitm: Fool & Noon, Sombra & Sunspot, Misuta & Sol

When it comes to finding character voice, I do a lot of test drabbles (a couple of them are on this server), which I use to just fuck around until I find something that feels right. For instance- Sol was very very easy to find the voice of, where as Misuta took weeks of rewrites. Sometimes things take time. Spending this time figuring out their voices at the start really helps fic consistence in the long run, I think. Because of all that prep, I don't really have to do anything to 'get into character' when writing their dialogue (it's fairly second nature now).

In regards to coming up with a character's arc, I look at them and their themes and ask 'what the fuck happened to you, dude?' and then 'how has that entrenched a faulty world view on you?' 'what could you be driven to do because of that world view/misunderstanding?' 'what would it take to fix this world view/misunderstanding?' (the last question is the most important one!). Then voila, you have a very loose framework of a (hopepunk) character arc.

In regards to the actual planning of the fic/character arcs, I have a very big miro board (pic attached) that I use for all this! Most of the major character beats are marked out separately to plot beats etc etc. There are still a bunch of bits that only reside in my brain, but I do try to add them to my plan as soon as they become any kind of concrete. All of the characters also have a background chapter (or rather, a series of chapters that form a short story) attached to their arc, that will recontextualise everything you have learned about them so far! I am so deeply looking forward to dropping these (I already have quite a lot written).

I would say that- for your question on character relationships- the answer does come down to being really specific about what you include. Make sure characters are meaningfully different from eachother, give them goals and experiences that clash and then force them to live/work together in the same space. If you have put time into building your characters before that, then you just need to create opportunities for them to get into conflict and bring out the best/worst in eachother. I really do believe that characters are quite boring in a vacuum- which is why I put so much emphasis on including narrative foils ^^ Tyvm for the ask <3

[thescreaminghat]

ok so going off of this post (with excellent additions by others) ive been thinking of moments that elita could have had in tfone that would have made her stand out a lot more as her own character.

but first off though i dont even think bee should be a major character in tfone. like i get the endgame is to sell new toys and bee is popular but if that was really all that the creatives were interested in they could have done the bare minimum for a cash grab, shoehorning in some fart jokes for the child audience, and be on their way. the fact that the story is good means that there was thought and care put into all of this, so it's a shame that elita almost feels like an afterthought, and sometimes even feels overshadowed by bee. i would either remove bee entirely, or keep him in as the revelation that sub level 50 exists (aka he is the first sign that something is amiss, that the miners are being lied to) but not let him join team orion until the very end, when post-cog orion goes back to free and rally the other miners. maybe bee has become so traumatized by being in sublevel 50 that while he is overjoyed at seeing pax and dee, two real, living beings besides himself, he is also extremely afraid of leaving his post. what if there are further sublevels? what if he can't bring his friends with him, imaginary or not, if he gets in trouble and transferred again? like bee can still have the same humour and charm, but the story could be structured so that he serves more as a reminder for orion that they need to succeed on this mission, that they'll be back for b-127 even if they don't find the matrix. with this change elita gets more screentime with orion and dee.

for the first of my headcanon-y changes, it would be great if elita had just one conversation with dee early on in which orion isn't physically present. even better if the conversation built on the first conversation that orion and dee have in the movie, when orion asks dee if he ever wanted to choose his own path. maybe dee is ruminating on the question and asks elita, who is initially somewhat offended at The Audacity (isn't it clear that she is choosing her own path? she's going up in the food chain, duh) but this ultimately causes her to start looking inwards. is she really going to be happy working at the same level as someone like darkwing, if attaining that kind of position was even possible? there must be some cutoff for how high a cogless bot can go---would that satisfy her? but what other option does she have? and then maybe those doubts turn into frustration against dee, with elita snapping back and telling him to stop parroting whatever stupid question or plan orion comes up with (this has unintended consequences, as dee quite literally takes this to heart during his crashout at the cave). i think even additional offhand conversations/comments would help solidify the pax-dee-elita dynamic and flesh it out more.

second, i think dee should have tried to win over elita's sympathies following the cave scene. elita should initially side with dee and push for violence against sentinel and airachnid on the way back, before they get captured by the high guard. dee should be hyping himself and elita up, saying stuff like "we can fight, elita can get the other miners into shape, im going to drag sentinel down in the tunnels and bury him alive," basically showing us that despite the out-of-pocket plans he's making, dee understands the value provided by others and its relation to his own goals (e.g. elita's leadership and extensive knowledge of the mines from being team lead), he doesn't just value physical strength, but ability. it'd be a good setup for the balance of rage/vindictiveness and cunning he has as megatron later on. and maybe elita's still angry and playing off of the hype too, like "yeah sentinel's going to waste management next." this leads orion to try and bridge the ever-widening rift between him and the others by appealing to reason and their sense of justice (or the sense of justice that orion thinks they should hold). elita could be the one who "reassures" orion by commenting on how the least he can do for them after dragging them out to the surface is to let them hate on sentinel for a bit. and when orion keeps pushing for an answer on whether she thinks sentinel should be killed, like dee had suggested, elita should reply with smth like, "well i dont know if i would--if i could--do that myself. kill someone, that is. maybe i won't, maybe i just want to kick his aft. but if jazz had died in that blast? if dee had died? do you think that you'd be able to do it then?"

i think the optimism speech could still be kept in but toned down a bit more, like have elita admit to pax's optimism being like a pinprick of light in a dark tunnel without outright just saying "you have hope and that's what makes you special." it'd be cool if we circled back again to orion's question of "don't you ever want to choose your own path?" like we're slowly seeing elita working through her process of choosing her allegiances.

im a bit at a loss at this point for what elita's "turning point" what be to side with orion instead. maybe it's not just seeing dee's fusion cannon, but seeing how reckless he was with it--how it wasn't just about putting up a good fight or even self-defence anymore but being indifferent to endangering everyone around him, good or bad, like the indifference of mechs like darkwing to the miners. maybe it's just the act of seeing dee let orion go from the tower, that if dee of all bots could sacrifice his other half so easily--the hopelessly stupid and understanding and compassionate other half named orion---then what difference is there between him and the bots who have caused so much misery in her own life? idk if we have a sequel please let me get more juicy characterization please

[atiianeishaunted]

before we get into the actual post, I need to have a lot of preamble and stuff, pretext or whatever just so people dont assume the worst! also probably will add to this and clean it up later on when im not exhausted lmfao

Trigger warnings: grooming, familial abuse, and things adjacent to that, those are the two major ones though, and obviously this is not a shiro safe zone. you are not being held at gunpoint to read this post, read it at your own discretion. nothing is explicit or like graphically described because why the hell would i do that

This is from the perspective of someone who has been groomed and abused by a family member. This is NOT a proshipping thing nor is this a place for proshippers to jump in and romanticize what i am about to discuss. Also I am autistic and have been nitpicking this show to pieces for 6-7 years now, this is just something I've personally noticed.

I am not saying ANY of this was intentional by dreamworks, im not delusional, but whether they intended it or not the pieces ARE there, the subtext IS there! "They didnt mean it like that" or "They just didnt show it" is not going to change my stance, see the previous sentence.

all i ask of you is that you hear me out please, let me cook. also this will be a mess, just bear with me okay!! this post isnt like an absolute guide to my take as i do not have the capacity to do that but moreso like "rewatch the show with this in mind youll see what i mean"

I have no clue how to start this but with the fact upon recent rewatches, I have grown a distaste for Shiro due to how he's genuinely just a bad person. His whole character is just like sucking the government's dick yk and being one of the good gays, i wont get into that here, theres a whole other rant i posted like months ago about him that covers that area of him being a bad person and my pure hatred for the "space dad" title the fandom had given him.

With that being said, i don't think about him often clearly as he irritates me but like he's always lurking in the back of my mind, you know those itches on the palm of you hand you gnaw on because itching wont work but biting doesn't do shit either, yeah like that. I've kind of always held the belief he's a groomer, not in /that/ way, more like grooming Keith into being a perfect soldier and tool for him to use and project onto however upon recent reflection and rewatching the show, i have come to the conclusion that the subtext of the show (INTENTIONAL OR NOT) (HEAVY EMPHASIS ON THAT!) has him fitting both definitions of grooming.

His and Keith's dynamic will always be inherently unhealthy, Shiro is not a good guardian to Keith at all and makes it clear that Keith isn't someone he genuinely cares about, even in their softer moments, Shiro is just manipulating him / using manipulation tactics. He preyed on an isolated, grieving kid who clearly needed support and used that mental state to his advantage, arguably worsening Keith's state and driving the poor kid insane. Not to mention the fact we discover later on that Shiro was hiding his relationship with Keith.

When Adam is arguing for Shiro to stay on Earth, he doesn't mention Keith at all, only himself and Shiro's health. You'd think Adam, Shiro's boyfriend, would know about a kid Shiro had taken in and would bring up the fact that Shiro has a kid relying on him but he doesn't. Because he didnt know. The Holts dont know about Keith either despite Shiro being very involved in their lives. (side note,, matt and keith.. u shouldve been besties u feral men.. . we lost so hard..) Not even that, literally NO ONE acknowledges that they have a connection besides Keith. Keith is the only one to label him as family, as his brother, but Shiro explicitly avoids labeling things or reaffirming the label, which seems harmless vaguely i suppose until we get into the next point. Like what do you mean you dont tell anyone you're attached to this kid. Why are you so scared of clarifying or saying something. Why would you be so afraid to admit you took in a kid? hm???

(also before i get to the next point id like to add just now the fact shiro frequently brought keith out into the middle of nowhere which is. insane. now that i think about it. wdym you only interact with him when you're very separated and alone from everyone else. what the FREAK. most of their interactions/genuine acknowledgement of their relationship is when they are isolated. frowns. this is so sinister im ill.)

Shiro's romantic relationships, which we only see two of them, shows he has a specific preference for those who blindly do what he wants without questioning him or fight back. He broke up with Adam (willingly abandoned him) and never acknowledges him again beyond a quick scene of him looking at Adam being confirmed dead on a screen, the scene of Adam's argument, hes openly pushing against Shiro and mentions he cannot wait for Shiro again, he cannot keep doing this. And Shiro never mentions him, not once, throughout the show unless its a scene with Adam. Curtis is his second partner and husband who we actually meet before the finale where it shows them getting married, and you wanna know all we see of Curtis? him blindly following orders by Shiro. And I think one clip of him working out in Kinkade's vlog(?).

Keith is super devoted to Shiro, its constantly brought up even in the handbook (which isnt. very reliable but still) where he talks about Shiro as if Shiro is the only thing in existence and basically his god which lines up with the show. Keith borderline worships the ground Shiro walks on and Shiro eats that shit up, thats his /type/. He picked Keith very intentionally. We discover that Keith's worst fear is Shiro (its implied at least) in season 2 episode 8, Keith passes out and hallucinates Shiro. Its important to note this is a hallucination first of all due to the fact this is how he views Shiro. His brain pulled from his interactions/memories of Shiro.

Shiro's behavior isnt met with Keith's usual lashing out or anger we see him use when the others are mean to him. he looks Resigned, exhausted, hurt and scared. He isnt confused, he isnt surprised Shiro is acting like this, hes simply resigned. Implying this is something hes actually experienced outside hallucination land.

This happens again when Clone Shiro and him fight, Keith doesn't lash out, he avoids hurting Shiro, none of the words coming out Shiro's mouth are met with the intended reaction. Keith constantly jumps to a fawn response around Shiro, constantly spouting "I love you" whenever Shiro's upset which is not normal behavior for Keith. At all. Everyone else is met with anger and him snapping but when it comes to Shiro, hes suddenly very anxious and tries to appeal to him as if thats what he was taught to do / thats what Shiro wants from him.

Keith's attachment and behavior towards Shiro is not normal at all. If Shiro was a responsible non ill-intentioned adult he would've nipped things in the bud, established a healthy bond with Keith and made sure to redirect him but he does not. He allows Keith to spiral over him and consistently encourages it.

Keith was like 13 max. When they first interact (timeline wise), Keith wasn't scared of Shiro, literally stole his car, snapped at him, etc. What did Shiro do to him? What the hell happened!!!

That is all I got for now, will probably clean this up later and add to it but like 4 people wanted me to post this and i dont wanna keep people waiting so . gestures vaguely. theres the gist of things. rewatch the show as i said at the start, youll understand what im saying better.

[meskit]

asks you about their dynamic (builderman and 1x1)

smiles at you so big and wide in a non-threatening way

before i get into it i feel it's important to dip into my interpretations of them both.

1x1 is canonically the embodiment of hatred, malice, and negativity. we all know this. i kind of took her a step further and made it so that he is the embodiment of whatever emotions they can feed on. it just so happens that the ones she fed on the most upon creation was telamon's (and eventually shedletsky's) hatred and ire. because of this, in forsaken, he kind of is always passively feeding on everyones emotions (usually fear and frustration). having this constant source of sustenance is what allows them to remain corporeal

builderman is viewed as a very level-headed and laid-back leader. he holds everything together behind the scenes and makes sure that things can run without a hitch. i think that pre-being forsaken he held a lot of pent-up emotions about how he never got recognized for all his hard work on the back end, at least not to the degree the others did. this carried over into forsaken, and has started to fester and eat at him. he's very angry at the world but has a persona to upkeep so he never gets the opportunity to really deal with decades worth of frustration and anger.

ultimately, theyre not good for each other, but theyre "happy" (they think theyre happy. they don't really know what that is though). there's a lot of major imbalances in the way they interact with each other, and they wouldn't necessarily be romantically involved or whatever, considering... everything really.

i'm going to copy and paste a huge chunk of what i yapped about to my friends yesterday here :]

- 🦷 -

i think 1x would be drawn to builderman because of this. initially in a "you can get me closer to my goal of tearing shedletsky down, of ripping this world asunder with my teeth for what he made me. you will be my pawn, my bargaining chip. you will be my vessel for finally being free." way. builderman is drawn to 1x because the deep, simmering fury within him over everything-- always being second to telamon and eventually shedletsky, never being known for his work and achievements, always having to be the one to make sure things run smoothly and being blamed the one time something is out of his control... being forsaken and having lost everything he has tried so hard to maintain while having to pretend that he is still capable-- seems to ebb away the more he's around 1x. he doesnt know that its because 1x is literally absorbing it until later

obviously i think the dynamic could go in many ways over time. none of them would necessarily be . healthy? but i do think that 1x would kind of become parasocial with builderman LOL. i think 1x would play into the knowledge that builderman is always one wrong word away from imploding and going scorched earth on everyone, so they would DEFINITELY play into buildermans wants to fester the hatred with the other survivors . kind of in the-

"you fight so long, so hard, just to be tossed to the side. you let yourself be outshined, for *nothing.* none of them deserve the praise they get, not when you're the key to their success every time."

- way

and i think, regardless of the intent, builderman would come to also be a little parasocial with 1x in return. but i dont *quite* have the dynamic i have in mind down yet

arguably you would think 1x is getting like. a lot out of this dynamic but i think builderman technically is getting more out of it than her.

even though he's being very blatantly manipulated, i don't think he'd really care? no matter how genuine 1x is being, it is still some of the only acknowledgment for his work that he's received in a long time. the only acknowledgment of how much blood, sweat, and tears he's poured into making sure the team doesn't fall apart. it is the most emotional fulfillment he's potentially ever had since building up robloxia. and it makes him feel wanted, seen, and in some twisted way loved. i mean, in order to notice just how much time and effort he's put in, to such an extent as 1x, that has to be love, right? not that he'd know. all of his time is spent making sure the cogs in the machine run smoothly.

1x gets the fulfillment of having a steady source to feed on, of having someone who's lost his way to meld into something more suitable for their needs and goals. builderman gets the ache of his forever growing distaste for everything finally eased. he gets to finally rest.

1x thinks this must be love, as love is a power dynamic just as what they have is a power dynamic. his wants and needs are being met and he gets to make builderman feel good. 1x is the one pulling the strings, just as it always has been, this must be love. wholly being able to alter the course of someones life must be love

neither one of them knows what actual love is for aforementioned reasons 👍 in my epic "post-forsaken au" they grow to actually love each other but its still like. weird. but its okay because they're weird together about it

[harbingersglory]

miko is SO REAL for that, two switches fighting over who gets to dom is the best dynamic. if you have time/want to i'd be curious to hear any sub headcanons you have for lisa, ei, ningguang and/or kafka!

this is so incredibly self indulgent because i see ningguang, ei and kafka in the same sentence and explode. everyone pretend i didnt accidentally pick a fav here um

ningguang i already see as a pillow princess more than anything she fits this so well. absolutely adores going slow + worship. treat this woman like royalty and lord you will not regret it. she goes all out to make the night as perfect as possible. will not let you have a hand in any of it sorry!! this is her turf. perfect atmosphere suited to your tastes (tons of candles, if you like that, or just going by moonlight is also her style). incense, taking a few minutes beforehand just to really get settled in the mood (usually by cuddling, but shes not against just taking a moment for some tea or even a game of chess).

you'll also probably need all that extra time to sort through whatever shes bought this time. when i said she goes the whole nine yards i mean it. she has money and she will use it. very expensive lingerie for herself (and you, if thats your thing.) and literally anything you could ever want. it heavily depends on what you both want out of the night but she spares no mora making it the best she can.

the non-sexual intimacy before hand (and especially after) is important to her she takes it very seriously (for the both of you). you'll probably get dragged into taking a long bath afterwards before actually going to bed. hope you arent too tired! because its gonna be a while before you actually sleep.

because this woman has stamina. technically. she's just really pent up and theres no better way to get that stress out then soft sex with her partner. shes not picky about positions really but she has a soft spot for laying on her stomach with a pillow to prop up her hips (really accentuates the pillow princess part, huh /j). if you start massaging her she's gonna wake up the entirety of liyue. she's normally quiet but lord knows she needs it and she cant keep quiet for the life of her.

genuinely just very soft and gentle. she just needs some good pampering after a long day to unwind (preferably with a glass of wine, but thats for later).

ei..is very awkward about it. she probably gets embarrassed if you bring it up but shes not. opposed per se. she's just used to domming that she has no idea what to do. genuinely a mess the first time around but she gets the hang of it quick (shes a quick learner :])

also you just really get to see a side of her you usually never do! she's usually big on topping and shes pretty calm and composed about it (usually). not cold, just..she doesn't outwardly express things often. except when shes subbing. its like a switch flipped

just dont tease her about how visibly flustered and awkward she is about it. because she is. horribly so. shes still pretty quiet but thats just ei, to be fair. its like a cute, nervous puppy. call her a good girl though and she might short circuit so badly the shogun comes out

though i also see ei as someone who prefers giving even when subbing. a dangerous combo considering her body is a puppet and, yknow, cant get tired. you will have to pry this woman off you shes lowkey insatiable when it comes to pleasing you. 100% less of a brat, though. you give her an order shes following through with it before you can blink. efficient!

kafka is similar to miko, imo. maybe yelan too?? she gives off big brat vibes when she subs. she wont use suggestion in bed unless your 100% cool with it and even then its usually when she doms but when she subs? shes a menace. bit of a masochist, to be honest. she'll push your buttons until you crack and decide to punish her but woops, thats just what she wants so she wins anyway!

she cant feel fear but she certainly enjoys a good thrill. specifically sensory deprivation. cover her eyes with a blindfold and keep her guessing. its probably her favorite part, the closest she can get to fear. especially if you add a bit of pain into it.

choking, spanking, bit of blood..this woman is smiling through it all like she's the happiest woman in the world. especially if it makes you frustrated. shes like it desperate and rough.

if thats not your speed, though, she can get that thrill in other ways. semi public sex is her jam so sandwich her against a wall in some random supply closet and make her scream. shes not quiet even in the comfort of whatever room shes booked this time and you'll have to physically shut her up if you dont want to get caught. shes still a brat at heart, though. put your fingers in her mouth and she'll bite. your gonna need the patience of a saint to dom kafka.

[gorematchala]

I finished re-reading Claymore a few days ago and I'm happy to say that manga held up to highschool me's memories

Coming at it from the perspective of being almost twice as old as when I first read it, and having just caught up on Berserk, I was worried. Because in middle and highschool I was easily manipulated by greatswords and pretty girls. I still am but thats besides the point. So I was thinking about the series again because Angel at Dusk reminded me of that specific brand of body horror, and I was like oh no, did that shit have any depth or was I reading a Berserk ripoff with no context. But no its good

My feeling on it is basically that it isnt, to me, a life changing sort of work. I didn't come away from it feeling the way I felt at the end of Dungeon Meshi or current Witch Hat Atelier, but the characters are all likeable, and basically every reveal, plot twist, and surprise they introduce hits sufficiently. Theres never a point where you get a close up shot of a character saying something and you dont go "oh fuck". Which is interesting since I was not impressed with the world building in the first half. Later on once they start traveling the map a bit it starts to feel more like a thought out world, but initially when theyre just going around hunting monsters its like is this whole world just several small villages with monsers in them lol

The art style progresses a lot through the series. Initially its hard to tell if its really good or kinda bad sometimes but by the end characters intended beauty is being fully conveyed. Theres one who is basically supposed to look like an angel and by the end she kinda does. I also have to give the artist credit for coming up with so many unique body horror creature designs because no two look the same for the whole run of it. And it isn't too monster of the week either but they do all have unique powers, even if some of the Claymore's abilities are stretching the internal consistency a little as time goes on. Especially by the end where one characters special move is she wiggles her head really fast and it lets her sweep her entire body like one centimeter off the ground to cut peoples legs off because its impossible to fight an enemy who is on the floor. But in the moment youre like, oh no!! The characters I like need their legs!!

And I guess lastly I really like Clare, even though shes sort of barely keeping up or not keeping up during the events of the whole thing. I say that as in, I can see why someone else could criticize some of her agency in the plot and in the final battle. Because she is often handed new techniques and powers, but she gives it her all to survive and achieve her goals despite being literally half as strong as everyone else by default, and she never feels over or underpowered. Shes often balanced by her own mental state, which usually involves being a little too impulsive despite her appearing to be a calm Vergil type. My favorite characters other than her and Stretchy Helen were probably Riful and Dauf, because of their dynamic of unimaginable horror, and shlubby husband who is invincible but very stupid, but they're so in love that you can almost forget they spend all day torturing women by stabbing them until they turn into monsters. And then they introduce the power dynamic between her and the other Abyssal Ones and you kinda start to root for her if only because she would be easier to deal with than Priscilla lol. Priscilla felt a little bit underdeveloped perhaps but i have no real complaints because she does tons of cool shit and at the end of the day thats all you can ask of a shonen antagonist

[minnie--verse]

Pen Pals -- A Park Sunghoon Fic

!!PART 3!!

(link to pt. 1) // (link to pt. 2)

Summary: You, Ren, are a college student, taking what you thought would be a normal composition class—until you’re assigned a pen pal with your professor’s second class. What happens when you fall for someone you know… but dont?

pairing: sunghoon x f!reader(ren)

genre: strangers to lovers, non idol au, crack, mostly fluff, later chapters to include possible angst//comfort, slow burn.

general warnings: college students!mc, slow burn, love square, swearing, possible adult content in future chapters.

word count: ~6.7k

!!this is not proof read!!

thank u for reading<3

— — —

Sunny,

It’s nice to hear back from you. I have to admit, your letters have become something I look forward to—they’re a break from the routine, a small moment of connection in an otherwise hectic day.

I read your letter about your art final and your friend. It made me think about how different our paths are, yet how they somehow align in these letters. You’re creating things, bringing art to life, while I’m more the type to observe and analyze. My days are mostly filled with reading, writing, and, if I’m lucky, a bit of quiet in between.

You mentioned how your friend keeps you grounded. I get that. My roommate does the same for me. He’s always trying to push me out of my comfort zone, to see the world from a different angle. I guess you could say he keeps things interesting, even if his methods are a bit... unorthodox. 

It’s strange, isn’t it? How we’re connected by these letters, yet know so little about each other. But I think that’s part of what makes this interesting. It’s like we’re sharing pieces of ourselves in a way that we might not with people we see every day.

The snowy night I wrote about—there’s something about snow that makes the world feel quiet, almost like it’s pausing to let you catch your breath. I imagine your art might capture that feeling in some way, the way you described working on your final project. There’s beauty in those moments of stillness, don’t you think?

I’d like to hear more about your art and how you see the world through your creations. And of course, anything else you feel like sharing. It’s nice to have someone to write to, even if we’re just pen pals.

Talk to you later, Snow

— — —

You sit in the corner of the bustling cafeteria, the sounds of chatter and clinking cutlery filling the air around you. It’s lunchtime, but the food on your tray remains untouched as you unfold Snow’s letter, your eyes scanning the familiar handwriting. The cafeteria feels miles away as you begin to read.

His words pull you in, and before you know it, you’ve read the letter twice, maybe three times. There’s something about the way he writes, the way he shares these little slices of his life with you, that makes you feel like you’re getting to know him in a way that’s deeper than just surface-level.

You find yourself lingering on the part about his roommate, imagining what this nameless person might be like. From what Snow described, it sounds like he’s the opposite of Snow—more outgoing, maybe a bit of a troublemaker, but someone who’s trying to bring Snow out of his shell. The dynamic feels familiar in a way, reminding you of your own friendship with Callie.

You take a sip of your drink, mulling over the growing interest you have in these exchanges. It’s not just the content of his letters, but the person behind them—someone thoughtful, introspective, and maybe even a little lonely. You can’t help but wonder what he’s like in person, though you know that’s not something you can just ask. There’s an unspoken rule in these letters, a line neither of you has crossed yet.

As you reread his letter, you feel a warmth spread through you, a comfort in knowing that someone out there is taking the time to write to you, to share a part of themselves. It’s something you hadn’t expected when the assignment started, but now, you find yourself looking forward to each new letter, wondering what Snow will say next.

The cafeteria continues to buzz around you, but for a moment, it’s just you and Snow’s words, connecting across a space that feels more like a bridge than a gap. You feel a strange mix of anticipation and contentment as you fold the letter back into its envelope, carefully tucking it away in your bag.

As you finish your lunch, your thoughts drift to what you’ll write in return. There’s a sense of wanting to share more, to keep this connection going, even if it’s just through ink and paper. Snow’s right—there’s something beautiful about the stillness he described, something you might try to capture in your art.

But there’s also something more you want to share, something lighter, maybe even a bit playful. After all, Snow’s letters have become a small, unexpected joy in your life, and you want to reflect that back to him.

You’re lost in your thoughts, Snow’s letter still lingering in your mind as you take a sip of your drink, when you hear a familiar voice—smooth, quiet, and unmistakably him.

“Ren.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you look up, startled. Standing there, just a few feet from your table, is Sunghoon. His dark hair falls slightly into his eyes, and there’s that usual unreadable expression on his face. For a moment, you just blink at him, caught off guard by his sudden appearance.

“Sunghoon,” you manage to say, trying to keep your voice steady as you process the fact that he’s here, in the cafeteria, talking to you. You weren’t expecting to see him again so soon after your library encounter, and definitely not here, now, while you’re still thinking about Snow.

He looks down at the seat across from you, a silent question in his eyes. You nod, and he sits down, placing his tray on the table. He glances at your untouched food, then back at you, his expression still difficult to read.

“You looked… deep in thought,” he says, his voice low and calm. “Something on your mind?”

You feel a slight blush creep up your cheeks as you realize how absorbed you must’ve looked. “Just… a letter,” you say, trying to downplay the significance of it. “I was rereading it.”

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow slightly, his gaze briefly flicking to your bag where you’ve tucked the letter away. “From a friend?”

You glance at the letter, then back at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “It’s… an assignment for Composition class?”

His eyes widen slightly in recognition, and you can see the wheels turning in his head. “Wait, you’re taking that too? We must be in the opposite classes.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by the coincidence, “Oh really? I didn’t think much of it at first, but it’s actually been kind of nice. How about you?”

Sunghoon nods, taking a bite of his lunch before responding. “Same here. I thought it was just a pointless assignment, but it’s not bad.”

You chuckle, shaking your head as you remember how skeptical you’d been at the start. “Yeah, I was pretty skeptical too. It seemed like just another thing to do for class. But once I started, it was... different. More personal than I thought.”

He smiles, and you can tell he’s on the same page. “Yeah—it’s easier to talk to someone without the physical interaction.”

“There’s definitely something strange about it,” you agree, your thoughts drifting back to Snow’s letter. “Like, you’re sharing these little pieces of yourself with a complete stranger, and it makes you think about things in a different way.”

Sunghoon nods, looking like he’s considering your words. “Yeah. I guess it’s a nice change. I enjoy being anonymous, and waiting to see what she says.”

You find yourself smiling more, feeling a warmth in the conversation. “Exactly. It’s like a little surprise each time. I’ve started looking forward to it, even if it’s just for the sake of curiosity.”

His eyes briefly flicker to the envelope again, but he quickly looks away, not wanting to pry too much. “So, how’s your pen pal’s writing? Do you find it interesting?”

You think about Snow’s eloquent words and how much they’ve resonated with you. “Yeah, it’s actually quite nice. They’ve been really expressive about their thoughts and experiences. It’s refreshing to read.”

He nods, seeming to understand completely. “Mine’s been pretty good too. I think the anonymity of it makes it easier to open up in a way.”

You both share a moment of silent agreement, appreciating the irony of discussing your pen pals while keeping your own identities hidden. The conversation shifts to more mundane topics—classes, weekend plans, and the usual college life chatter—but there’s a subtle undercurrent of something more meaningful beneath it all.

Sunghoon’s gaze drifts around the bustling cafeteria, “People watching? That seems like a fancy way of saying you’re nosy.”

You roll your eyes, “If you wanna be negative about it then yeah, sure. Nosy. I just like to see what people are up to, you know? Decipher their story.”

Sunghoon looks around the room, scanning the diverse crowd. “Okay, let’s start with that group of friends over by the window.”

You follow his gaze and start to analyze the scene. “Yeah, they look like they’re having a great time. The girl in the red sweater is laughing so hard her glasses are slipping down her nose. She’s clearly the life of the party. The guy next to her in the black hoodie seems to be trying to make a joke, but it’s not landing as well—he’s got that ‘awkward but trying’ look.”

Sunghoon chuckles, clearly enjoying the insight. “How about the couple over by the food counter?”

You glance over and see the couple in question. “Oh, them? The guy seems a bit impatient, like he’s waiting for his food to come faster. Meanwhile, the girl is chatting animatedly with the server, probably trying to make a connection or get a special order. It’s like they’re in their own little world, and he’s just trying to keep up.”

Sunghoon nods, clearly impressed with your detailed observations. “That’s pretty spot-on. What about them, huddled around a laptop?”

You look over and analyze the situation. “They’re working on a group project, I’d say. The girl in the blue scarf seems to be the one taking charge, pointing at the screen with a lot of enthusiasm. The guy next to her is nodding along, but he looks a bit overwhelmed. He’s probably trying to keep up with all the ideas being thrown around

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the process. “I didn’t realize how much you could pick up from just observing. It’s like you’re seeing a whole story unfold without them even knowing you.”

You smile, enjoying the shared activity. “Exactly. It’s fascinating to see how people interact and what little details tell you about their mood or situation. It’s almost like creating a narrative from real life.”

Sunghoon looks at you with an impressed smirk, “You’re an expert at being nosy then, huh?.”

You nod in agreement, feeling a sense of satisfaction in sharing this part of yourself. “Yeah, it’s a bit like that. It’s also nice to share it with someone who’s genuinely interested. Makes it even more enjoyable

Sunghoon’s eyes wander around the room again, clearly more engaged in the activity now. “So, do you usually come to the cafeteria to people-watch, or is this a special occasion?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Oh, it’s a regular thing for me. The cafeteria is one of the best spots for it. Lots of different people and interactions to observe.”

You find yourself lingering on Sunghoon’s face for a moment longer than you intend. There’s something about the way he quietly observes the room, his dark eyes taking everything in with a calm, almost unreadable expression. He’s hard to read, but there’s a depth to him that intrigues you. 

You quickly glance back down at your finished plate, hoping he didn’t notice you staring. But as the silence stretches, you feel his eyes on you. Sunghoon clears his throat, his voice a little hesitant. “So, uh… what do you see when you look at me? I mean, you’re good at this observing thing, right?”

You freeze, your heart skipping a beat at his question. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you try to gather your thoughts, suddenly aware of how close you two are sitting. “Oh, um… well, I guess…”

You look up at him, meeting his gaze, and the words tumble out before you can stop them. “Your eyes… they’re really… intense. But not in a scary way. More like… there’s a lot going on behind them, but you don’t really let it show. It’s like… you’re watching the world, but keeping your thoughts to yourself. It’s… I don’t know, they have some kind of mysterious pull to them.”

Sunghoon blinks, clearly caught off guard by your answer. His expression softens, and for a moment, he looks almost vulnerable. “Mysterious, huh? I’ve never thought of myself that way.”

You fumble for words—that was fucking weird, Ren—you think, scrambling to fix your words. “I-I mean, not in a bad way! It’s just… you have this kind of… stoic presence, but your eyes say a lot more than you let on. It’s like there’s a whole other side to you that most people don’t see.”

Sunghoon looks down, a faint smile playing on his lips, his cheeks tinged with a slight flush. 

You nod, feeling the awkwardness of your own words but also a strange sense of connection. “Sorry that wasn’t what you meant and I am… fucking weird now, huh?”

He looks back at you, his gaze softening. “No, no, no—“ He laughs gently and shakes his head, “It’s… actually kind of nice. I appreciate it, Ren.”

As you both settle in Sunghoon’s apartment, the storm still raging outside, Sunghoon suddenly looks at you with a mix of nervousness and determination. “You know, I’ve been meaning to tell you why I couldn’t say anything when we bumped into each other at the park. I was just… kind of enthralled by how pretty you were.”

He shakes his head, a slight flush still coloring his cheeks. “I know that sounds a bit stupid, but it’s the truth. I was too caught off guard to say anything, so I probably just looked broody.”

You feel your face heat up at his confession, but you can’t help but laugh a little, shaking your head. “Honestly, I just thought you were kind of an asshole. Like, you just bumped into me and then stared me down. I had no idea you were, you know… stunned or whatever.”

Sunghoon’s eyes widen, and he looks immediately embarrassed, running a hand through his hair awkwardly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to come off that way. I really wasn’t trying to be a jerk. I just… didn’t know how to react.”

You laugh again, but this time more warmly, seeing how flustered he is. “It’s okay, really. I guess we both misread the situation. I’m glad we got that cleared up.”

Sunghoon nods, still looking a bit embarrassed, but he manages a sheepish smile. “Yeah, me too. I guess I need to work on my reactions a bit. Sorry again for giving off the wrong vibe.”

You wave it off, feeling the tension ease as you smile at him. “No harm done. It’s kind of funny, actually, now that we’re talking about it.”

Sunghoon chuckles, the embarrassment starting to fade. “Yeah, I guess it is. I’m really glad we’re getting to know each other better now, though.”

“Well, now that we’ve both embarrassed ourselves—“ You laugh before a sigh escapes you and you lean back against the booth seat you were in. 

Callie was right—which was something you didn’t like to admit very often—but maybe Sunghoon was something you could chase after. 

— — —

Snow,

Your last letter caught me off guard—in a good way. It’s not every day someone asks about my life outside of school or my perspective on the world as an artist. It made me realize how rare it is to have someone actually care about those things. So, thank you for that.

Where do I start? Outside of school, I guess I’m pretty much the same person. Art isn’t just something I study—it’s how I see the world. I know that might sound cliché, but it’s true. When I walk through campus, or sit in a coffee shop, or even just people-watch from a bench, I’m always noticing the little details that others might overlook. The way the light hits someone’s hair, the shadows that play on the ground, the fleeting expressions on people’s faces as they pass by. It’s like everything is a potential piece of art, even the most mundane moments. I think that’s why I love being an artist so much. It’s like I have this secret lens that lets me see the beauty in everything, even when the world feels overwhelming.

But that’s not to say it’s always easy. There are days when I feel like I’m carrying the weight of everything I see. It’s like I’m constantly trying to capture moments, to hold onto them before they slip away, but sometimes it’s exhausting. There’s so much emotion in the world, and it can be overwhelming to try and process it all. I guess that’s why I retreat into my art. It’s my way of making sense of everything, of turning the chaos into something tangible.

Outside of that, I’m just a normal college student, trying to navigate life and figure out who I am. I have my close friends, like Callie, who keep me grounded. She’s the type of person who can make me laugh even when I’m stressed out of my mind, which is more often than I’d like to admit. We balance each other out, I think. She’s practical and a bit of a realist, while I’m the one with my head in the clouds, always dreaming and creating. It’s a good dynamic, and I’m grateful to have her in my life.

But enough about me—how about you? You’ve been so thoughtful in your letters, but I feel like I don’t know much about you yet. What do you see when you look at the world? What’s your perspective on life? I’d love to hear more about what makes you, well… you.

Talk to you later—Sunny

— — — 

Your days have settled into a comfortable rhythm, a mix of classes, painting, and the occasional coffee break with Callie. Mornings start with you groggily pulling yourself out of bed, the faint light of dawn filtering through your curtains as you get ready for another day of classes. You make sure to grab breakfast, a habit Callie has drilled into you after too many mornings of skipped meals. Then it's off to campus, where you navigate the familiar paths with a sense of routine, waving to acquaintances and exchanging quick hellos with classmates.

Your classes keep you busy—lectures, assignments, and the constant pressure of upcoming exams. But amidst the academic grind, there's a part of your day you look forward to the most: those moments you spend in the library. It started with that first meeting, an accidental collision of schedules and a shared space, but now it’s become something more intentional.

You’ve found yourself meeting Sunghoon regularly in the library, often in that same reserved room where you first actually talked. It’s a quiet, tucked-away corner of campus where you both can focus on your work but also where conversation flows easily between the two of you. At first, it was just studying side by side, exchanging the occasional word or glance, but soon you started talking more—about classes, about life, about the things that matter to you both.

There’s a comfort in his presence, a steadiness that you hadn’t expected from someone who seemed so closed off at first. He listens when you speak, really listens, and when he shares something about himself, it feels like he’s letting you into a part of his world that few others see. The more time you spend together, the more you realize how much you enjoy his company, how much you’ve come to look forward to these meetings.

He’s still a man of few words, but when he does speak, there’s a thoughtfulness to it that you’ve come to appreciate. Sometimes, you catch yourself smiling at something he says, or at the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention. And sometimes, when he’s focused on his work, you let yourself wonder what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. It’s a strange kind of closeness that’s developed between you two, one that feels both new and familiar at the same time.

And then there are the little things—the way he’ll bring you a coffee if he knows you’ve had a rough day, or the way you’ve started sharing music recommendations, discovering you have more in common than you initially thought. There’s a warmth to your interactions now, a quiet understanding that seems to have grown naturally out of these moments spent together.

You can’t quite put your finger on when it happened, but somewhere along the way, Sunghoon became more than just someone you ran into on campus. He became someone you genuinely care about, someone whose presence you crave more often when you had to wait for another letter. And as you sit across from him in that familiar library room, you find yourself wondering what this connection means, where it might lead, and how much closer the two of you might become.

— — —

Sunny,

I have to admit, after reading your last letter, I found myself looking at the world a little differently. It’s like your words opened up something in me, made me see the beauty in the details that I usually overlook. I guess I never realized how much there is to notice when you really pay attention.

Like yesterday, I was walking through campus, and I saw the way the sunlight filtered through the trees, casting these long, golden shadows on the ground. The leaves were swaying just enough to make the light dance. It reminded me of the sunny day you talked about in your first letter and then I thought, ‘Sunny would probably paint this,’ Or the way the raindrops gather on the window after a storm, reflecting the outside world in those tiny little beads of water. It’s like the whole world is contained in those drops, you know? I don’t think I’ve ever noticed those things before, not really. But now, it’s all I can see.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, your perspective has kind of... consumed my thoughts. I find myself thinking about what you’d make of the things I see every day—how you’d capture the way a moment feels, or how you’d turn something simple into something profound. It’s like you’ve given me a new lens to look through, and I’m really grateful for that.

Honestly, I’m finding it hard not to think about you every day now. It’s strange, isn’t it? We’ve never even met, but I feel like you’re everywhere. Like, every time I notice something beautiful, you’re the first person I want to tell about it. I’m not sure what that means, but I thought you should know.

Anyway, I hope you’re doing well. I’d love to hear more about what you’ve been painting lately—if you’re comfortable sharing, that is. And if there’s anything else on your mind, I’m all ears.

Talk to you later—Snow

— — —

Over the past few weeks, Sunghoon had found himself thinking about Ren more and more. It wasn’t just the time they spent together in the library that lingered in his mind, but the little details of her that had started to etch themselves into his memory. The way her eyes would light up when she talked about something she was passionate about, or how her lips would curl into a soft, almost shy smile whenever he complimented her. He had memorized the way she absentmindedly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear while she studied, or how her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she worked on her assignments. And then there was her laugh—so genuine and infectious that it never failed to make him smile, even on his worst days.

Sunghoon didn’t know when it happened, but Ren had become someone he looked forward to seeing, someone who made him feel understood in a way that was rare for him. There was an ease to their connection that he hadn’t experienced before, a natural rhythm that made their time together feel effortless and comforting. She was someone who could bring out a side of him that he usually kept hidden, and he found himself wanting to share more and more of himself with her.

But then there was Sunny.

Sunny, the anonymous pen pal who had captured his thoughts and inspired his imagination in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Their letters had started off as just another assignment, something he hadn’t expected to matter. But now, every letter from Sunny was something he eagerly awaited. Her words painted vivid pictures in his mind, and he found himself longing to know more about the person behind them. What did she look like when she painted? What emotions played across her face as she captured the world on her canvas? What other poetic visions would she impart next?

The more he read her letters, the more he felt like he was getting a glimpse into her soul, and it was intoxicating. He wanted to know everything about her—her thoughts, her dreams, the way she saw the world. He had even begun to wonder if she might be someone he already knew, someone who had been right in front of him all along. But then, there was Ren, and that complicated things. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being unfair to both of them—this girl he was growing closer to in person, and this mystery pen pal who occupied his thoughts.

Sunghoon found himself caught between two worlds: the real, tangible connection he had with Ren, and the deep, almost ethereal bond he felt with Sunny. And with each passing day, the desire to bridge that gap, to know who Sunny really was, grew stronger. He wanted to understand the person behind the letters, to see if the connection he felt with her words could translate into something real. But as much as he longed to uncover Sunny’s identity, he also feared what that might mean—for him, for Ren, and for whatever delicate balance he had somehow found between the two.

— — —

Snow,

Your last letter made me smile. It’s funny how we’ve never met, yet I feel like you somehow understand how I see the world. When you described the sunlight filtering through the trees and the raindrops on the window, it was like you were speaking my language. It’s incredible how something so simple can become so beautiful when you take the time to notice it, don’t you think?

I’ve been painting a lot lately. After reading your letter about the snowy night, I couldn’t get the image out of my head. There was something so vivid in the way you described it—the quiet, the stillness, the way the world seemed to pause under that blanket of snow. It was like I could feel the cold air on my skin and hear the crunch of the snow beneath my feet, even though I wasn’t there. So, I decided to paint it. I wanted to capture that moment, the way you saw it, and try to put that feeling on canvas.

It wasn’t easy. I think I’ve repainted the sky about a dozen times, trying to get the right shade of twilight, that moment just before the night fully takes over. I wanted the snow to look soft, almost like a memory, with just enough light to see your breath in the air. And the trees... I think they were the hardest part. I wanted them to look both strong and delicate, like they were standing guard over this perfect, fleeting moment in time. I don’t know if I got it exactly right, but I hope it comes close to what you saw that night.

It’s strange, but painting your snow night made me feel closer to you, like I was sharing in that moment with you even though we’re miles apart. It made me realize how much I look forward to your letters, how much they make me think and feel. I’ve found myself wondering what you’re doing at random times during the day, or how you’d describe the things I see. It’s like your words have found a way into my thoughts, and I’m not sure how to explain it, but it’s kind of wonderful.

I’m curious, though—do you ever feel that way about my letters? I mean, do you find yourself thinking about what I’ve written or imagining what I might say next? I guess I’m just wondering if this connection is as real for you as it feels for me.

I’d love to hear more about what you’ve been seeing lately, what moments have caught your eye. Maybe they’ll inspire my next painting. And if there’s anything you’re curious about, don’t hesitate to ask. I’m more than happy to share my world with you, piece by piece.

Talk to you later—Sunny.

— — —

You and Sunghoon are sprawled out on the floor of his apartment, the room echoing with your laughter and playful banter. You’re in the middle of a mock wrestling match, both of you grinning like fools as you try to outmaneuver each other. Sunghoon manages to pin you down for a moment, and you let out a loud, exaggerated laugh of defeat.

As the laughter dies down, you both lie there catching your breath, the playful energy giving way to a more relaxed atmosphere. You looked up at him as he held your arms down, his roommate Jake giving the dramatic announcement of Sunghoon’s pin as if it was WWE. Your chest rose and fell with a stagnant smile on your faces, Sunghoon still chuckling softly as he looked down at you. For a brief moment, the world seems to slow down, and you find yourself watching him with a sense of wonder.

His dark hair is a bit tousled from all the antics, and there’s a light sheen of sweat on his forehead that makes him look somehow more... real. The way the light from the lamp casts a soft glow on his face, and the way his lips curve into a relaxed smile—it’s all strikingly attractive. You hadn’t really noticed before, but now, it’s as if you’re seeing him for the first time, in a way that makes your heart skip a beat.

You shift your gaze slightly, trying to process what you’re feeling. This isn’t just about appreciating his looks; it’s something deeper, a fluttering sensation in your chest that you can’t quite ignore. You think about the way he listens to you, the way he makes you laugh, and how easy it feels to be around him. There’s a warmth and familiarity that you didn’t expect, but that you’ve come to cherish.

And then, like an unwelcome intrusion, your thoughts drift to Snow. The mysterious pen pal who had captured your imagination with his poetic letters. You remember his descriptions of snowy nights and the way he made you see the world through his eyes. It’s been a constant presence in your mind, a subtle, persistent reminder of another connection that feels just as intense, albeit in a different way.

The contrast between the two is jarring. Sunghoon’s presence is immediate and real, filled with tangible moments and shared laughter. Snow’s presence is ethereal and distant, yet equally compelling, with each letter adding another layer to the intrigue. The two are starting to feel like they’re vying for space in your thoughts and emotions.

You find yourself torn, caught between the easy, tangible connection you’re building with Sunghoon and the poetic, almost dreamlike allure of Snow. It’s confusing, trying to reconcile these two parts of your life and figure out what you truly want. As you look back at Sunghoon, you realize how much you enjoy his company, how much you’re drawn to him, yet Snow’s influence remains a significant part of your emotional landscape.

You let out a soft sigh, trying to clear the fog of conflicting feelings from your mind. Sunghoon lifts a brow and catches your gaze, giving you a curious look.

“You alright, Ren?” he asks, his voice warm and genuine.

You offer him a small, distracted smile, trying to hide the whirlwind of emotions inside. “Yeah, yeah. Just thinking.”

Sunghoon nods, giving you a reassuring smile. “Well, if you need to talk, I’m here.”

You nod, appreciating the offer. “Thanks, Hoon… I appreciate it.”

As the evening continues, you try to focus on the present, enjoying the time with Sunghoon while grappling with the complexities of your feelings for both him and Snow. It’s a balancing act you’re not entirely sure how to manage, but for now, you’re determined to savor the moments you have with Sunghoon and let the rest sort itself out in time.

— — — 

Sunny,

Your letter brought a smile to my face and warmth to my heart. I was genuinely touched to hear that my description of the snowy night inspired your painting. It’s incredible to think that my words could be transformed into something so beautiful and tangible. I can almost see the scene through your eyes, and it makes me feel as though I’ve been there with you, experiencing it all over again. I hope to see it one day.

I’ve found myself constantly thinking about you and your letters. It’s a strange but wonderful feeling, knowing that someone out there is visualizing the world through such a creative and thoughtful lens. It’s like your perspective has woven itself into my daily thoughts, and I can’t help but wonder about the details of your life, the moments that inspire you to create. Your words have become a significant part of my routine, and I often catch myself daydreaming about what you might describe next.

There’s a warmth in knowing that our correspondence has become such a meaningful part of our lives. I’m always eager to read what you’ve written, to find out what new insights or observations you’ll share. It’s almost as if your letters have a way of drawing me in, making me feel connected to you in a way that’s both surprising and comforting.

I have to admit, there’s something more profound than just admiration growing within me. I’ve started to realize how deeply I’m falling for your words, for the way you express yourself so beautifully and thoughtfully. It’s as though each letter reveals another layer of who you are, and I’m captivated by the depth and sincerity of your reflections.

I’m curious to know more about you—your inspirations, your dreams, and the things that move you. If you’re comfortable sharing, I’d love to hear about what drives you to paint, or about the moments that make you pause and reflect. Your letters have become a source of light in my life, and I fall harder with every word you share.

Talk to you later—Snow

— — — 

You’re pacing back and forth in the living room, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. You’ve been wrestling with your feelings for both Sunghoon and Snow, and it’s starting to drive you a bit mad. You finally collapse onto the couch next to Callie, who is lounging with a stack of notes from Snow spread out in front of her.

"Callie, I need help," you say, your voice tinged with frustration. You’re sprawled out on the couch in your apartment, the remnants of Snow’s letters scattered around you like a chaotic love confetti. Callie is sitting next to you, munching on a snack bowl of pretzels and clearly enjoying the show as you have a mini-meltdown over your feelings for both Snow and Sunghoon.

“Snow’s words are like this beautiful, poetic storm that’s taking over my mind, and then there’s Sunghoon, who’s right here, making me feel seen and loved in a completely different way. How am I supposed to choose between these two worlds?” You bury your face in you’re hands and groan.

Callie raises an eyebrow and picks up one of Snow’s letters, glancing at it with a smirk. “Okay, let’s break this down. So, Snow is basically a walking, talking poem who understands your soul from a distance, and Sunghoon is a real-life guy who makes you laugh and look at you like you’re the only person in the room. Got it.”

“Exactly!” you say, waving your hands around dramatically. “Snow’s letters are this perfect mix of art and mystery. I mean, he’s on campus somewhere, and I don’t even know what he looks like! And then Sunghoon... he’s here, being all cute and attentive, and it’s like I’m falling for him just as much. It’s a mess!”

Callie chuckles and picks up another letter, reading it with exaggerated enthusiasm. “‘Your letters have become a source of light in my life, and I fall harder with every word you share.’ Ugh, Snow, you charmer. And here’s Sunghoon, who knows the way you take your coffee and gives you his coat when you’re cold like a rom-com.”

You groan and flop back against the couch cushions. “I know, right? It’s just that Snow’s letters make me feel like I’m part of this beautiful, poetic world, while Sunghoon’s presence makes everything feel so real and tangible. How do I even begin to balance that?”

Callie puts down the letter and gives you a sympathetic look. “Listen, you don’t have to choose right this second. Snow’s words are wonderful, but they’re just a glimpse into a world that’s still shrouded in mystery. Sunghoon is right here, making you laugh and enjoy life. Maybe the real answer is that you need both worlds for now.”

You sit up, considering her words. “That’s... not the worst idea. But it feels so complicated.”

Callie leans back with a grin. “Complicated is just a fancy word for ‘interesting.’ If you’re enjoying both, then why stress? Snow’s poetry isn’t going anywhere, and Sunghoon’s not going to vanish. Take your time to figure it out.”

— — — 

Dear Snow,

I was so touched by your last letter, and I felt compelled to write back and share something with you. I’ve been thinking a lot about how you expressed your feelings, and I realized something incredibly beautiful. Even though you’ve never seen any of my paintings, you seem to understand them so well, as if you’ve seen them in your own way. It’s like you’ve been looking at the same world through my eyes.

Your words have a way of making me feel like you truly see me, and it’s more than just knowing my thoughts or my feelings—it’s as if you’ve grasped the essence of what I try to capture on canvas. When I painted my vision of your snowy night, it wasn’t just about recreating the scene you described. It was about expressing how your words made me feel, how they painted a picture in my mind that felt so vivid and real.

Falling for you, Snow, has been like discovering a new color in my palette—one that resonates deeply with my own heart. The way you describe things, the way you make me think about the world in new ways, it’s all become a part of me. You’ve made me realize that sometimes the connection we build through words can be even more profound than anything we could see or touch.

I can’t wait to continue exploring this journey with you, sharing more of our worlds through our letters, and discovering where this connection takes us. You’ve made me feel seen and understood in a way I didn’t think was possible. Thank you for being such an important part of my life, even from afar.

Talk to you later— Love, Sunny

— — —

Sunghoon burst through the door of his apartment, his face flushed with excitement. He had just received Sunny’s latest letter, and the warmth of her words had him practically skipping with joy. His thoughts were a whirlwind of how perfectly their feelings seemed to align, and he was eager to share his enthusiasm with Jake.

As he walked into his room, he noticed something lying on his bed. It was the jacket Ren had borrowed from him. Sunghoon’s heart skipped a beat. He remembered that Ren had returned it today and briefly wondered if there was anything inside the pockets.

He reached into one of the coat pockets and felt a small, folded piece of paper. Curiosity piqued, he pulled it out and unfolded it, revealing a neatly written note in neat… purple… ink.

— — —

Thank you for the jacket.

—Ren

— — —

ending note —

hehehe!! promised part three!! I’m really enjoying this prompt so I’m literally pumping these out as fast as I can bc even I’m excited for what happens next.

I love you and thank you for reading my little corner of tumblr<3

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

Ive made through chapters 4-7 today and good god, I feel like i had basically nothing to say about acotar as I was reading it but with this book theres so much to talk about for some reason, its wild. Truly, I did not realize how much I liked Feyre in the first book until I was under threat of losing her

Now, I will say that Feyre seems in-character so far, shes still the same woman but traumatized, but I am worried for her. Tamlin is a whole different story though, SJM might as well shoot him dead right in front of me for how thoroughly hes being character assassinated. Like, if Tamlin actually cares about Feyre as a person and not just in a douchy, possessive alphahole way, which he should because Tamlin was not that kind of guy previously, then he would force Feyre to train so she can defend herself if necessary, not forbid her from it. Even if he didnt want her to use her magical powers, surely he would make her practice with her knife or with a sword or even with her bow just to be safe, because hes not always gonna be there

I think his actions do continue to make sense if you look at them from his perspective, but I also maintain that he's doing a really bad job at responding to Feyre. But also, its so laughably obvious what sjm is doing by having Tamlin say shit like "you were stolen from me", shes trying to paint him as some objectifying asshole. Even Lucien calling her "Tamlin's bride" feels like its part of all this, and I know Ianthe is gonna turn out to be a traitor and a rapist at some point, so it really comes across as an attempt to villify the entire spring court for its association with Tamlin

Speaking of Lucien, I genuinely think part of the reason Feylin is doing so badly in this book is that his dynamic with Tamlin is completely different now. For some reason hes all like "oh, my High Lord" instead of "my good friend Tamlin", he suddenly cant say a word against him when he was talking to shit to him just a few months ago in-uinverse. Like, if their dynamic was the same as it was in acotar, Lucien wouldve probably been like "hey man, I know youre stressed and I get it, I know what its like to watch the love of my life get brutally murdered I dont know what its like to have her magically ressurected again but thats neither here nor there, but Feyre is clearly not happy being inside all day and you need a break, go take her out on a date in the woods, I'll stay here and take care of everything, dont even worry about it" or gotten him to comprise with Feyre or chill tf out or SOMETHING but because theres suddenly this rigid hierarchy in the spring court in order to make the night court look better

Speaking of the night court, Ive heard some stuff about it feeling very orientalist but it still managed to completely blindsight me with its badness. Feyre got fucking harem pants to wear, really? And a short-sleeved croptop, and no fucking shoes, probably because Rhys didnt want Feyre throwing shoes at him again. That was the one moment in this book that brought me genuine joy btw, I would read a thousand fanfics about her just throwing shit at him

Anyway, speaking of my guy (derogatory) Rhysand Nolastname, hes so incredibly annoying I dont even have any coherent thoughts about him right now, like, if I were to write down what I think of him I would just write "he fuckinh pisses me off" over and over again. Im actually a really big fan of edgy shadow bois, but only if theyre like, sad and angry and closed off, if theyre like Rhysand and theyre all flirty and teasing and cocky and shit, theyre just annoying and nothing else. And the romance has barely even started yet, I cant imagine how much worse the flirting is gonna get later. Not to mention all these desperate and obvious attempts by sjm to make him sympathetic and morally good now, its honestly pretty pathetic

Now Im gonna be real with you, I didnt get a lot of sleep yesterday and I can feel myself and the things Im writing getting less and less coherent, so Im just gonna hit you with the very last of my thoughts bullet point style

The fact that Amarantha apparently didnt actually go rogue and it was all part of Hybern's plan feels misogynistic ngl

Ianthe's entire character already feels so misogynistic and slutshame-y and she hasnt even assaulted anyone yet

Something about Mor bothers me, I cant quite put my finger on it but its there. I think I do like her for annoying Rhys though

God, Im gonna have so much to say about the Illyrians but for now, its awfully bold of Rhysand to be like "they wasted no time throwing themselves before her feet" when THATS WHAT HE DID

Thats it for now

[yuukei-yikes]

different anon: hi my eyes have been opened to kanoshin bc of kagefuture too LOL i love deranged and messy relationships. when i was younger i was so afraid of being cancelled or something that i thought kanoshin was the devil because of a ONE YEAR AGE GAP. ??????? i just forgot all about it until you started posting them and i was like wait this rules. anyway thank you for the reintroduction i am normal now

THE ONE YEAR AGE GAP TOOK ME OUT AJSNWKDKEODKE honestly that is an interesting part of it i think because sometimes it kind of feels like the age gap is bigger and that's because of miss ayano tateyama. are you ready for me to make this ask about something entirely different? yay!

i talked about this in another post but in flashbacks, despite ayano is only older by one year, she acts a lot more mature and naggy while the trio are more mischievous and up to nefarious doings (pranks and waking ayano up too early💔) so that makes it feel like the age gap is bigger than it is.

i hc they act this way because the mekatrio was experiencing the first safe place in their childhood so they went all out on the Being A Kid thing. the tateyamas live happily together for a few years before ayaka passes and everything goes to shit. the trio gets adopted when they're like, between 7 and 10 (which we can assume from the way they act and talk when they're kids. it seems to me proper of those ages. i think it's a pretty logical conclusion but i also work with kids so idk) so the trio really really has some good years where they experience some wholesome childhoods they haven't been able to until then (well kido had a normal childhood before their bio mom died but I think the stuff that happens to them at the kido mansion later is crazy enough to be as bad as kano and seto's terrible caregivers. thanks jin. these 3 really needed all that, sure)

ANYWAYS i think that's why while safe with the tateyamas, the mekatrio really acting so much like actual kids + ayano REALLY wanting to feel like a big sister, makes them end up in a dynamic where ayano maybe sees them as Much younger than they actually are, even though their real age gap is basically insignificant. i dont think it goes both ways, like i dont think the trio feel as if ayano is a lot older, instead they feel like she's on a step above them (the step might look a little like a pedestal)

okay. so. *rereads ask* right right kanoshin we were talking about that. SO SINCE THE MEKATRIO+AYANO AGE GAP FEELS BIGGER THAN IT IS, it is also logical For us as readers that the mekatrio+shintaro age gap also feels bigger, because shintaro is ayano's age. and idk if you've read the novels but shintaro's pov CONSTANTLY points out that everyone is younger than him, in fact let me find you something really funny he says abt kano

ok i went to find this and i forgot shintaro felt bad hearing kido calling kano useless bc ene called him useless too. gay as hell i think but whatever. kano is NOT partying you idiot he's going through the horrors (i dont actually remember what he was actually up to here but he mightve been baiting the hibihiyo death or taking ene to her body LMAO) GOD FUCK SORRY I KEEP GETTING SO OFF TOPIC FORGIVE ME I JUST LOVE TALKING ABOUT KAGEROU PROJECT

ANYWAYS so even though u thought the kanoshin age gap was evil, maybe this was subconsciously why. i think shintaro maybe sees it a little at first (after all in that bit i attached, shintaro had known kano for only like. a day) especially because shintaro is closer to ayano and she (hc) speaks of her siblings like they're Babies but as shintaro gets to know kano (and kido and seto) more, he naturally starts seeing them as the age they are and how it's not different from his own lol

back to kagefuture discussion as well. this might be something that is slightly relevant in the next comic. ummm. heheh. also even in part 10 i added the bit where ayano is trying to talk to kano but she imagines him as a kid all of a sudden. and in part 16 which is the last i posted she dreams of him as a kid. like Im going somewhere with this just just just. trust. the kano and ayano sibling relationship in kagefuture is my favorite to write. shintaro's love life can die for all i care

ANYWAYS. thank u for liking my stupid fanfiction comic and also younger you was right actually kanoshin IS the devil

[rainswept]

why do you like chuuya /gen, like I dont mean to sound rude in anyway but why😭🙏

this is going under a read more because i started yapping and couldn’t stop. i’m sorry

his personality. hes so funny and hes such a bitch i love him. but also he’s an incredibly dynamic character. he’s well written and tbh that’s enough for me to like him already. he’s had so much shit thrown at him and very well could have become a horrible person but he’s not. others care about him and he cares about others. he hasn’t let himself become as bitter as he could have been. he is still so full of humanity despite it despite everything SEE NEXT PARAGRAPH

i’m a sucker for characters that are entirely completely human and yet don’t think they are, or struggle with whether they are or not (especially thinking so because of all the reasons that they are— but i suppose chuuya doesn’t really fit that part so i won’t get into that now.) like yes chuuya has (or had, i guess) a reason to believe he isn’t, but does that really matter when faced with the fact that you have emotions and blood just like everyone else? does your make matter when you’re not so different after all? it’s existential. it makes u think. 

his crime list is about as short as he is and i find that wonderful

his lore/past/backstory whatever you want to call it. not even, he’s still going through it. man 😭. he’s had so much loss but not a single goodbye and i think that’s a really fucking good (and depressing) concept. he has never had the chance to mourn properly. he acts like he did.

hes cunty

his dynamic w dazai i find very compelling too. like yes they bicker and yes they fight and yes they “hate” each other (they don’t) but they also trust each other with their lives and have left them in each other’s hands too many times to count. it shows u the depth of both their bond but also the characters individually. they’re not entirely self sufficient.. they can obviously take care of themselves but they’re at their best when working togegher. i thinkt hats cool. FREINDSHIP IS MAGIC!!1! no but it shows u that even the strongest people arent at their best until theyre able to connect. not that dazai and chuuya have a model relationship at all… but there’s trust there. and that’s enough

hes hot

he makes me so viscerally and upsettingly sad

dog motifs. ok hear me OUT i’m SORRY but tbh the title was what got me interested in bsd in the first place. everyone is a stray in this show and i like that very much. i love characters that are LOYAL to a FAULT. i love characters with gnashing teeth and wagging tails. i love characters that hold so tight onto things their hands hurt and they end up causing them to flee. that “everything i’ve ever loved has claw marks on it”??? yeah give me that shit i will eat it up EVERY TIME. i love characters that are blinded by their senses of duty, not in the way that they’d do anything whoever they’re loyal to asks of them (though that is a nice dynamic too, i don’t think that’s as Chuuya ™️ as the other i’m talking about), but in the way that they’d lay down their life without a second thought (or caring about how those people see them). a dog that is beat may bite but but but it will still have its duty. even if it hates it. (<- see also AKUTAGAWA akutagawa is the reigning champion of dog motifery that is probably why i love him so much. but that is akutagawa. and i’m talkign about chuuya so im gonna dhut up now) ) i like characters with Three Betrayals COUGH COUGH COU💥💥💥💥ogh mymgod scafamocuhe 3 betrayals chuuya flags sheep dazai Im HOWLIFJG someone KILL ME NEOW ok thay doesnt make aense i just thought it was funny. anywa

fanbs fanbs* FANGS idc if they’re fake

thanks for comign ti my ted talk 🙏 i may add more later. but i didn’t want to. talk. too much. um. i think that’s out the window though

[cyberdragoninfinity]

Hi! Your pizzeria au is so cool! (I actually can relate to the whole Jakob and Primo yelling at each other and Jakob being the terror grandparent thing *side-eyes grandma* and I dont know why but i really like that i absolutely get it)

I wanted to ask, does Primo still have his seeking validation but not getting it thing (aka oldest child syndrome)? I feel like that's a big part of the show's character (even though it's not talked about you can tell he just wants someone to love him), so does your pizzeria au Primo also have that? Or is he in a perfectly loving healthy family dynamic

WAHHH THANK YOU!! ;_; sobs ive been wanting to answer this for weeks ive just been turbo-busy and Primo's family life in this AU is, a real Kettle of Fish hhfdhgf..... i Love thinkin and talking about him, he's so so dear to me and this is a great question!!

the short answer is: you bet your ass he still does <3

the long answer is: well,

allow me to bring up THE MANCINI FAMILY DISASTER HURRICANE OF A RELATIONSHIP WEB

"perfectly loving healthy family dynamic" lol. lmao. roflcopter. not in the Mancini house!!!!!!!!!! This is three generations of autistic Hispanic Italians who do NOT know how to talk to each other or work through their own feelings and emotions in any sort of healthy way, and it SHOWS. :,)

(and honestly it's Jakob's fault for a lot of it--he's a heavy-handed crusty abusive old son of a bitch with enough untreated war veteran PTSD to black out the sun, and he managed to critically fuck up not just his son's emotional development but his grandsons' too in the process!!!! GREAT JOB YOU OLD BASTARD.)

Like. Aporia loves his kids. He does, he really really does. Primo almost died in a motorcycle crash when he was 17 and the thought of losing him scares Aporia so fucking much. He's just.. chronically so fucking bad at verbally expressing "i love you," and in general is a, often very emotionally distant person. He's not the World's Worst Dad, he just fumbled the bag on being there much for Primo and Lester until *checks* Extremely Recently, instead caught up with his demanding work of running a steel distribution component, and then later the death of his wife (which left him shaken and numb for YEARS,) and on top of all of that the lingering inescapable drive to Make Jakob Proud of Him (a trait Primo has too <3) (insert meta commentary on how these are all Versions of The Same Guy in 5Ds Canon <333)

So anyway, all that said, you can imagine that Primo seeks validation like a starving hyena seeking out a wildebeest carcass--desperately, relentlessly, and like his very life depends on it. He's hero worshiped Jakob for being a """"Cool War Hero"""" since he was a kid, and he kind of hero worships his boss Zone now for his intense demeanor and storied history, despite the fact neither of these men seem to like him much (because they dont.) Between that and his aforementioned dad being awkwardly distant for much of his childhood and teen years, his ratio if "wanting validation vs. actually getting it" is, uh, NOT VERY GREAT :( He STILL yearns so SO much for his abuelo's approval especially, and the fact Primo feels his missed his one opportunity to get it (enlist in the army and die bravely and brilliantly on the battlefield) (dude you were never gonna be let into the army you have one eye first of all) keeps him up at night, like, a Lot. (sorry world but I KNOW Primo would be a bit of a cringefail military bootlicker. but the details on that is its own side tangent ghghdgdg)

it's just a mess, this whole family is a mess. at least on the bright side Primo's starting to make friends who Do care so much about him, and Aporia IS actively trying to make strides in connecting with his kids and making it clear to Primo how much he loves him, AND Primo is getting mature enough now to reflect on his upbringing and realize how fucked things have been. He isnt QUITE self aware enough yet to realize that chasing Jakob's approval is a fool's errand he'll never achieve, but he IS steadily starting to fully recognize that the way Jakob treats his dad and Lester makes him feel, um, Sick to His Stomach. (but the way Jakob treats him? no, no. thats. thats fine. thats what he (Primo) deserves.his brother and father dont deserve to be yelled at and demeaned and hit. but he does. failures do.)

(if i get into this AU Primo's complex about his self-worth that's absolutely spurred on by his struggle to obtain what he deems the most important forms of validation i will be here another nine hours and another 20 paragraphs. but i think about it VERY much. post for another time methinks.)

but yeah his eldest child syndrome is off the absolute charts. he might stomp around and loudly proclaim Lester is ruining his life but he loves that kid so much. He would put himself between Lester and their furious grandfather to take the brunt of the blast every time. He is not doing well but he will spend two hours putting ice on a bruise Jakob gave his little brother with as must care as someone as big and gnarly as he can muster. i love them so much.