#they usually don't react to history in this way because they don't feel the need to be afraid

[urfavleo777]

warnings: age gap, tattoo artist! colby x reader, alcohol

"Angel's wings!" your best friend exclaims, speaking completely seriously. Your other friend approves, clapping her hands eagerly. "Get them tattooed!"

You almost choke on your drink when you hear how seriously Katrina gives you a new idea for your first tattoo. If someone told you that friendship between three people doesn't exist, you would laugh at them. The three of you are living proof that it's not the number of people in the group that matters, but the love that exists between you. Each of you is different, but that is the most beautiful thing. There is nothing worse than boredom and monotony in friendship.

"Come on, you'll be eighteen in an hour. Do something that will make you happy, not your parents." Sophia, usually the voice of reason, tries to convince you.

You don't know if it's the alcohol you just drank, but in a split second you undergo an internal transformation. You'll be of age in an hour. No one will be able to lecture you. Even your parents who, instead of spending this birthday time with their daughter, decided to go to the mountains. At first you reacted with sadness, but over time you were glad that the situation had turned out this way because you could invite your two favorite girls over for the night.

Katrina and Sophia look at you with impatient eyes, encouraging you to make a quick decision. You take a deep breath, tilting your head back. As pathetic as it sounds, you try your hardest to get advice from the ceiling.

You look back at your waiting friends. They send drunken glances your way, which only reinforces the fact that you must probably look like one of them at this point. Sophia and Katarina's eyes widen. Something unexpected is about to happen; something that will change the course of history forever.

Katarina clenches her fists like a true boxing legend, preparing for the worst possible scenario. With each subsequent inhalation, you feel even more excitement and arousal wash over you. You open your mouth to announce the official verdict.

"If not now, never, right?"

After saying these words, you're crushed under the bodies of these two freaks. And, you swear to yourself that if your parents had been home, after all those squeals of happiness, you would have ended up under a bridge.

"The best decision you've ever made, Y/n! I'm so proud," Sophia squeals excitedly, and Katrina joins in. You realize that you still hold the glass in your hand. You hiss, knowing that you'll definitely need to change the sheets of your bed after tonight. "Don't worry about it! Let's go to the tattoo artist!"

"Now?" you keep mumbling under their bodies.

Katrina and Sophia step away from you, exchanging meaningful glances with each other. You are finally able to catch your breath, but you don't really understand what they're trying to tell you.

"Yes. Now." Sophia grins. "Katrina, are you thinking about the same person as me?"

The friend nods her head in response, also with a big grin on her face.

"Oh, yeah! The handsomest, hottest and most expensive tattoo artist in town," she starts counting and you wonder why you've never heard of him before. "Y/n, we guarantee you the best fucking fun."

"Let's fucking do this!" They both squeal, grabbing your hands and pulling you out of the bed.

***

"You guys didn't even give me a chance to change clothes!"

You are wearing a black body suit and really low rise jeans so people on the street can see a bit of skin, which makes you feel a little uncomfortable.

"You look great." Sophia assures you and Katrina nods to her. Well, they're wearing perfectly balanced sweaters compared to you. They decided to make you the main star without outshining you with clothes. You feel like standing out of the crowd, which you don't like very much.

"Do you think this tattoo artist will accept us without prior consultation?" you ask, genuinely curious. "Maybe we should call him? We'd better get back home..."

"Relax, Y/n," you turn into a street you've probably never been to. Katrina tries to convince you, but with each step you take, you become less and less sure. Even though your parents have well-paid jobs, they usually don't let you hang around the rich districts. They would be disappointed if they knew that while they were away their daughter was getting a tattoo, not really knowing where.

"You said he was an expensive tattoo artist. I don't think I want to spend money this way." You continue, feeling the alcohol drain from you. You regain consciousness and regret saying yes to your friends. "Maybe we should really turn back?"

"Y/n," you stop in front of a building emanating LED light. The girls move closer to you and one of them puts a hand on your shoulder. Sophia, the fucking voice of reason, says: 

"He is my brother's friend. They have been friends since childhood. He practiced on my brother, making the first patterns. He would never take money from me or my friends. We are always out of line. Trust me, you're in good hands."

"He was the one who gave me that big tattoo you liked so much," finishes Katrina.

You sigh, trying to convince yourself first and foremost. Sophia pulls out her phone and brings it closer to your face.

The first thing that catches your eye are the huge white numbers on the screen. What's more, they don't seem blurry at all. You must be really sober. You take a deep breath, recalling the quote of your favorite teacher in your head.

12:00. Carpe diem.

 "It's time to go fucking crazy, Y/n." 

***

"Sophia? What's for today?" It’s a male voice. Raspy, yet soft. The sound of it makes you whip your head over to your friends, but you're trying to stay calm. He lets out a heavy sigh before humming to himself in thought. Only after a while he notices that Sophia is not alone. "And who is this?"

"Hello, Colby. Meet Y/n, your new client." 

And the way he shakes your hand is firm but gentle, not as hard as you think it'd be given the size of his biceps probably are larger than your head. But then he softly grips your elbow and guides you into the chair with a hand on your back. "Don't worry, I don't bite."

"Well, I thought I would have to convince you.. longer."

You flush a little under his gaze because he's noticed how you're shaking like a leaf next to him. And the way he smiles indicates he might enjoy biting you anyways... and maybe you'd let him. 

"I was just about to close, but you know perfectly well that I will always make an exception for you, Sophia." Your friend smiles at his words.

"So, what are we doing tonight?" he focuses all his attention on you. You swallow, not really knowing what to answer. Katrina decides to save your ass from total embarrassment.

"Angel's wings." 

He looks like he's about to roll his eyes.

"Seriously, I can't count how many girls asked me for the exact same pattern. Try something more creative."

"I'd like to stick with the wings, please. In a place invisible to the eye."

"Getting a tattoo so you don't show it to anyone? How old are you anyway?"

"Eighteen." He doesn't look convinced. With one movement of your hand, you pull your ID from your back pocket. Colby, as you can guess, surprised by the concrete, grabs the ID in his hand and looks at it carefully.

"She's so young." When he talks about you in the third person, something happens to you. "Are you sure you want those fucking wings?"

"Come on, Colby. You did this to my brother many times." Sophia interjects. "Don't ruin her birthday."

"Ah, yes. Happy birthday or something." You can tell he’s in a good mood based on the playful amusement in his voice. 

"Thanks," you hang your head.

"We have to do something about her shyness." he turns to your friends.

"Maybe wings between her tits? I bet no girl has ever asked for this," suggests Katrina. You almost choke on your saliva. You want to get up from that chair and run out.

"That sounds perfect." His voice is sweet with a touch of flirtiness, and you swear you can hear the smile in it. "What do you think, Y/n?"

"There's no way I'm going to show you my tits." You take courage. Colby laughs loudly. He clearly takes pleasure in your attitude and shakes his head, leaning in to watch you.

"It's your choice." You bite at your lip instead of answering him. 

"Come on, Y/n. We won't look either." Katrina says and Sophia nods.

You've already succumbed to them once in a while. Nothing will stop you from doing it again.

The girls send you their last kisses. After a while, it's just you and your tattoo artist left in the room.

***

You're honestly glad when the uncomfortable silence is drowned out by the song "Ultraviolence" by Lana Del Rey. You asked to simply turn on the radio, but you were surprised when Colby asked you for the title. What was even weirder was when he used the fucking vinyl of one of your favorite albums instead of Spotify.

He hums to himself. "Those are nice."

You got rid of your bra. No one has ever complimented your boobs, but you smile slightly, burying your face in your hands.

He gives you a little wink before stenciling what you had in mind, his fingertips tracing the lines of the ink that leaves goosebumps across your skin.

There's a lingering feeling as he pulls his hand back. You think he's toying with you. Frightful little thing, you are and here he is wanting to play with his pretty little client. Next thing you know, his hand is around your throat.

You tense and realize that he has moved some of your hair to the other side to give more access to the space between your tits. It definitely could have been done easier and better, but the twinkle in his eyes said he did it on purpose. Oh yes, he was definitely having fun with you. The way his hand barely grazed your throat and the side of your neck before he would gently scratch your arm with his blunt nails and pull away.

He let's out a huff of quiet laughter and then gets his tools ready. "So, y/n, you have a safeword?"

And you're brought out of your thoughts about his large hands because... "Huh?"

"A safeword. It's big."

W..what's big? You can't stop your eyes from flitting down to his thighs and what may lie between them. He laughs and shifts so your eyes are instantly back up and staring at his eyes that glimmer in amusement.

"The tattoo, I mean. It's a big piece. Need to know if it'll be too much, yeah?"

[etz-ashashiyot]

Generally radicalized people are radicalized for a reason: their radicalization does something for them and/or they believe that their desire to reshape society in a way that they believe will fix things does something for them. The key to deradicalizing them, then, is to figure out what that need is and fill it with something else.

Most of the time, people don't actually want rivers of blood, they want justice for wrongs that they feel aren't being heard.

Most of the time, they don't actually hate [X] minority - they don't even know anyone of that minority! They hate the false strawman version of that minority that is completely detached from reality, but that's been sold to them as the source of their problems.

And most people are honestly kinda lazy, lol. They are not going to physically fight for their fucked up ideas unless either (1) they are backed into a corner and literally must, or (2) they get swept up as part of a larger mob where the bully mentality takes over and the few people leading it decide to turn it into a violent mob.

So you gotta suck the wind out of their sails.

This works best if they are in or adjacent to your own communit(ies), because you will have more insight into what this is doing for them.

For the goyische leftists that have been radicalized into Jew hate lately, it's a combination of things. It's a feeling of powerlessness as the world slides rapidly towards fascism and climate crisis. It's the ghosts of unaddressed colonialism that they are choosing to impose their emotional catharsis on this unrelated and falsely analogous situation to enact what they feel would be just in their own society on people safely half the world away. Why there? Well, it's because it's a very small area with all of the culturally significant places that they grew up hearing about from the Bible in church, so it carries emotional weight. Most importantly, both parties are small and neither party has much international power to stop them, so they are able to impose their own narrative on the situation and speak over everyone actually there. Anyone who tries to correct them is drowned out. And, it's the history of Soviet antisemitism that is baked into the DNA of most western leftist movements and which Jews have never had the numbers or power to force them to actually confront.

Jew hatred is extremely convenient and Jews have been murdered in large enough numbers that we are easy to talk over.

Now usually, when you start pointing these things out, and especially when you start pointing out how ineffective and self-serving their "activism" on behalf of Palestinians is, they are too radicalized to do anything but react emotionally. They will spit out talking points, but none of these things actually address any of the above. They usually just devolve into "but but, Israeli war crimes!!" like it's a talisman against accurate allegations of antisemitism.

Why won't they listen to reason? When you show them how what they're saying is literal Nazi propaganda with the swastikas filed off and "Zionists" being used as a stand-in for Jews while they simultaneously vociferously deny any connection between Jews and Zionism? Why won't they take any accountability for their bigotry? Why won't they, at a minimum, listen to the Palestinians who want peace even if they won't listen to Jews advocating for the same thing?

It's because then they would have to give up the major benefits that they've been reaping from this situation: the social capital, the excuses to act out, the glow of feeling totally righteous in their fury, the catharsis - and trade it for the extremely unappealing process of actually becoming a decent person and a better advocate for their cause. It's hurting people they don't care about and they have a whole lot of organizations and institutions and people with actual power who materially benefit from their misdirected anger stoking the flames, and helping them lie to themselves that they are actually helping someone besides themselves and the handful of true beneficiaries behind the conflict.

They are being used.

And in twenty years they'll wake up and realize that they spent their youth shouting Nazi and Stalinist slogans of hatred that only benefitted right-wing hawks on both sides who make actual money and power off this conflict at the expense of two persecuted minorities. But they will be ashamed and will bury that behavior underneath silence and excuses.

This happens in every generation, by the way. Every 70 - 100 years, people find a socially plausible reason to hate and kill Jews because it is easier than standing up to the people with actual power. We are people they know they can hurt, and so long as they lie to themselves about who they're hurting and why, it feels really good.

Overcoming that directly has never worked.

It doesn't work because catharsis and punching down or laterally feels productive and owning their biases and bigotry and developing practical long-term strategies is tedious and often feels like shit.

What I've seen real activists do is to address the need for catharsis, praise, and to feel useful in other ways, because they are often less attached to the specific lowest hanging bigoted fruit and more in the rewards it gives them.

If we want to see this change, yelling at leftists that they're being bigoted morons feels good (productivity! feeling a sense of reclaiming control and power from helplessness! catharsis! We are not immune to these human needs either) but it's counterproductive. You don't convince a toddler to give up the shiny dangerous toy by trying to just snatch it away - if anything, you've now cemented this as an epic struggle for all time against the cold, cruel, injustices of the parental controls. No, you have to give them a new, safer toy.

My position is that if we want to see movement on this, we need to suck it up, stop yelling at the radicalized, and start finding ways to help Palestine that both feel gratifying and are actually pro-peace.

And, for the true sick fucks who really do want rivers of Jewish blood (and if a bunch of Gazans are martyred in the process, oh well)? That's where we need our true allies to help us fight back the most. This type of person will never respond to anything but power, so they will back down if they feel that they are truly threatened. To get the rest of the fair weather friends on board, we need to show how these violent tantrums are actually threatening their new catharsis, gratification, and progress so that they aren't swayed by the bullies and instead want to guard their new emotional investment and moral high ground.

Ultimately, we all want to feel like we're the good guys. We want catharsis. We want instant gratification. We want to see movement. We want justice for the wrongs committed against us and those we choose to see ourselves in community with. Many of us have real-world serious grievances that are intractable and that we don't have the individual power to fix, but are intolerable as things currently stand. These people aren't special; they aren't different from us and we aren't different from them in those ways. The problem is that activism - real activism that actually moves the needle - will typically not give you that satisfaction or meet those needs, and most people don't have the mental space to meet those needs in a better way, so punching laterally becomes the quick fix solution. Meanwhile, the people in actual positions of power benefit from this gladiator fight.

And until actual activists reckon with that reality, we are going to see more and more of the same.

[thebearer]

omg the part in that one blurb where reader makes a joke about being able to skip a meal and then carmy’s just like tf did you just say is so important to me as someone that has a long (and uneasy) history with body image and healthy eating habits

i was wondering if you had blurb/general thoughts/ideas on how carmy would react to the reader having a harder than usual time with body image for whatever reason

maybe they make one too many jokes or little comments about feeling insecure and carmy’s just not having it lol

carmen, with every ounce of love i have in my heart for him, would not be good with handling that. simply because he understands not liking yourself (like the idea of it, he can't fathom why you don't) but he grew up where food was kind of an act of love. he'd never hear an "i'm sorry" ever in his life, but his mom would very much so be the type to say "i have dinner ready for you" and that was as much as an apology as he'd get.

the first time you're kinda not eating, carmen's like trying to joke with you. "the food not good? don't like it?"

and you assure him that's not it. "i just... i'm not really hungry."

carmen's confused bc you've been together all day and you only had an iced coffee in the morning. "no way." he shook his head. "you haven't eaten all day. if you don't like it, baby, it won't hurt my feelings, i promise. nothin' you can say that a chef in new york didn't say, they said worse too. just tell me what you want and-"

"-carmen, it's ok. it's really good, i'm just not really hungry." you smile. "i need to not eat today anyways. my jeans are so tight-"

"-what?" carmen thinks you're joking at first, brows creasing with a small grin. until he sees your face. "you're-you're being serious?"

"well, kinda..." you mutter.

"that's... don't say that." carmen shook his head. "please, don't-don't do that, that's insane."

your face falls at his tone, you know he doesn't mean to be so hard about it, but you can't help but feel worse, like carmen's mad at you. in a way he is, but not out of anger, out of love. out of not wanting you to hurt yourself like that.

"i just... i feel gross, and i'm starting to look it-"

"- i think you look beautiful." carmen mutters. he sounds hurt, genuinely hurt by what you're saying, like you said them to him. "i don't... i don't like that you do that to yourself." he admitted after a moment. he'd been going to therapy, working on channeling his emotions out when he felt them instead of bottling them in, leading him to an anxiety attack.

"i'm sorry." you whisper, unsure of what else to say.

"no, it's not... i don't want you to apologize or- or feel bad, i just... i felt like i should say it." carmen's eyes lifted to yours. "that you don't need to do that."

you can't help the way your chest rushes with heat, anxiously picking up the spoon in front of you. you're not sure what to say, most of the time, most guys kinda brush it off. act like it's nothing or ignore it- some agreeing. no one ever got... hurt by it like this. like you were hurting them too.

maybe it was the guilt. maybe it was the fact that carmen looked so sad. whatever it was, you weren't sure, but you were fucking hungry- and the pasta was good.

you hesitantly took a bite, ignoring carmen's eyes tracking you. "it is really good." you hum, trying to break the obvious tension in the room.

"you don't have to eat it, i-i don't want you to feel pressured to." carmen shook his head. "but i'll make you something else? could i make you something else? whatever you want."

you blushed, looking down. you knew what he meant. he was trying to help in the only way he knew how to, by cooking. "carmen-" you sigh.

"no, it's... it's not good to not eat, ya know?" carmen looked up at you. "you have to eat but-but if you don't want pasta, i get it. i'll make you whatever if that's what you want." he looked at you pointedly. "but don't ever think you need to do anything like that f'me. i think you're perfect no matter what. love you no matter what. you know that, told you i'd still love you even if you were a worm."

you snorted lightly, his reference to the tiktok trend you'd done on him a while ago. "thanks, bear." you mutter, grabbing his hand lightly. "i-i would like, if it's not too much and you have all the stuff, that greek goddess salad sydney was testing the other day? i've been craving it."

"heard." carmen nodded, standing towards the fridge.

"if it's not too much trouble-"

"-c'mon." carmen scoffed, looking at you sweetly. "it'll take me fifteen minutes max. sit down f'me, alright. i got it."

[lunar-wandering]

anyways as i mentioned earlier here is my absolutely nuts 'analysis' of Boboiboy having autism, and how each of the seven elementals kinda showcase a heightened version of an autism symptom-

so we're gonna go down in order (of manifestation for the elements)-

Boboiboy himself- he's just got the vibe, y'know? But also; it's been established he had no friends prior to moving in with his grandfather, which, y'know, is quite strange for a "normal" kid his age. He also tends to look at the people around him to know how to react in certain social situations (usually the person he looks to is Gopal which. Isn't always the best choice). Also the strong sense of justice is obvious (including that he goes so far as to help villains as well). (Yes this can be an autism symptom).

Halilintar (Thunderstorm). hear me out. Halilintar manifested due to overstimulation. I mean obviously the phobia of balloons is a huge factor here- but being in distress due to loud sounds is exactly one of the things that causes overstimulation for autistic people (could contribute to why he has this fear in the first place). One of the ways people might react to overstimulation is by becoming irrationally angry. Basically what I'm saying is that Halilintar spends most of his time on the edge of a meltdown-

Taufan (Cyclone). autistic joy. listen LISTEN. it's DIFFERENT from other people's joy, okay? a lot of autistic people experience emotions very intensely, it can full out take over you. also as far as i remember (it's been a while) he was the only one who had such an intense reaction to the mood changing potion- sure, the other people who had it were locked in one emotion, but none of them went as wild as he did- because he felt it a lot more intensely.

Gempa (Earthquake). i will admit, i struggled for a moment with Gempa- but honestly i think it's because he is, in my opinion, the one who's the most similar to OG Boboiboy. other than the heightened need to protect, which likely includes the sense of justice, I think Gempa is the one who masks the most out of all the elements. This is also why he seems to be the most neutral element.

Blaze and Ice. I'm doing these two together, because technically, their origin points are from the same thing: Burnout. It's just two very different responses to it. On the one side, Blaze is trying to, ironically enough considering the name, prevent burnout, by relieving stress (by doing things in the middle of night while no-one is looking and there's no pressure of social interaction). When there is too much stress, he falls into an overstimulated state similar to Halilintar's. On the other side, Ice represents the more depressed side of burnout- aka what happens after you actually burn out. It's why he's tired all the time.

Duri (Thorn). Okay so technically Thorn first manifested in battle but we're ignoring that. His tier 1 manifestation, as we all know, was mainly most definitely because Boboiboy got a concussion- but! Here's the thing; I don't think the concussion is why Thorn acts the way he does (though it's probably a part of it). I think, Thorn is just unmasked. The others all mask on some level, but Thorn just, doesn't. He doesn't really care how others might perceive him if he does 'childish' things or says things that no-one else understands because they didn't make the same connections he did, and he certainly doesn't care that deadpan telling someone their outfit is terrible might hurt their feelings, it doesn't even occur to him. He doesn't mask at all.

Solar. Again, technically manifested during battle. However once again we are ignoring that. It was established that the manifest condition for Solar (as Light), was for the elemental master (Boboiboy) to "expand their knowledge", and "read more". And, well, I know Boboiboy specifically read a bunch of science and history books and stuff, but honestly I don't think it really would've mattered what he chose to use to expand his knowledge, because Solar's main autistic trait is special interest. Because Boboiboy mainly focused on science and stuff, that became Solar's special interest, hence why he rambles off about formulas and stuff, and why he likes doing experiments. He hyperfixates on that stuff.

now. i could do the fusions... but honestly i haven't thought about the fusions enough to draw conclusions, so we're sticking with this

[zee-143]

OMG ANOTHER AUTHOR THAT WRITES FOR KIT!!

If you’re willing can you write a kit x reader for this prompt:

“i love you”

“no you don’t”

“yes… i do”

slightly angsty, slightly fluffy??? idk

tl;dr: kit heads the words i love you for the first time and doesn’t know how to react

'I love you'

'No, you don't'

A/N: Oooo, I love this idea sm!! Hope this is what you were looking for😞💗

Warnings: in a world where kit didn't die and made friends and stuff. Let's be delusional 🙈

Fluff☁ & Angst🌧

♡Kit can't believe someone actually loves him♡

Kit x GN! Reader

Kit's hand intertwined with yours as you both exit the park. The week had been tiresome and some time outside was well needed. You'd both been there for hours, playing on the swings, talking, walking around. The sky dimmed in preparation for the evening and you both decided to call it a day.

Kit offered to walk you home and you agree, like usual. Now, hand in hand, strutting down the sidewalk with Kit made you feel safe. You've always felt safe around him. He would never think of putting you into harm. Its the small gestures that got you hooked onto him in the first place. The way he'd hold you close when in a crowded area. How he would bring you your favorite candy on some random day. He just oddly seemed to get you. 𝘒𝘯𝘰𝘸 you.

The walk to your place remained as a silent trip with occasional chatter. Not that you minded. Only ever gave you time to glance at his face. The face that you've come to appreciate every time you see it. Saying you have a crush on Kit would be the largest understatement in bloody history.

Sure

It's started out as a crush. The usual butterflies and not being able to sleep at night. You thought it would last a week at most. Just a stupid crush on a friend right?

It's almost been 2 years.

TWO flipping years and you haven't thought about any other guy. It scared you that he might never know. He might start dating someone else. What scared you more though: rejection.

You both arrive at your home. Kit gives you a small smile before speaking "I'll get going then. See you tomorrow? " His hand pulls away from yours but your grip on his increases "Don't you want to stay over for a bit? My parents aren't home right now" Your voice is almost a whisper. Kit's eyes widen "Are you sure? " You nod, dragging him inside.

Inside the safety of your room, everything just seemed more difficult than it was before. How the hell do you just tell kit you like- scratch that. 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 him.

Kit glanced over at you from his place on your bed. Your eyes squinted, glued onto a wall. This was beyond zoned out. You practically weren't in the room anymore. He stood, making way towards you. Kit tapped your shoulder causing you to snap out of your thoughts. You realized how close he had gotten "y/n? Are you oka-"

"I love you, Kit! " The words shot out before you could think about them. Silence graced the room with it's presence. Kit's eyes raise, his mouth slightly agape. You needed a black hole to just suck you out of existence right now. Why wasn't he speaking?

Kit finally let out a little sigh. "What did you say?" You shrug and repeat "I love you"

"No, you don't"

His words. His tone, snipped a piece of your heart away. "What? " You shake your head "Yes, I do! I love you! "

Kit doesn't respond immediately. Guilt washed over the boy because even after all this time, he hasn't told you. He doesn't want to tell you. You'd just push him away. Like everyone else did. He knows he shouldn't let his insecurities take over but they always do.

'You don't love me, y/n" Kit paused thinking over his words "You're in love with the concept of me. Not who I really am... " His words linger longer than they needed to. "What do you mean? I'm in love with 𝘺𝘰𝘶 Kit. "

"You wouldn't understand"

"Then make me understand"

"It's complicated. Difficult to say"

This ticked you off the wrong way. How could he possibly know how you feel about him? It's your heart, isn't it? Kit has always been a mysterious person but it never rubbed you off the wrong way. Like it does now. "Why wouldn't I love you? " you ask, desperate for anything at this point. Kit blinks "I'm not... I'm not what you want. What you think I am"

"Kit, I'm sure id love that part of yo-"

"No! " Kit snapped "You wouldn't... You'd call me a freak. A 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳"

You laugh at his words. Not because it was funny but because you didn't know what to think. Is he calling himself a killer or something? "I would never call you a damn monster. What are you talking about? " You step closer although he slipped past you making his way towards your bedroom door "I'll see you tomorrow, okay? "

"No" you yank his arm "You haven't told me how you feel. " Kit's shoulders slouch "I don't feel the same, y/n. I'm sorry but I can't" His eyes refuse to meet yours. He feels bad. Worse than bad. That was all a damn lie. He loves you and cares for you. This decision was only for your benefit. Kit did the right thing (?)

"I understand then. Bye" You hold back tears forcing to escape. Kit pulled you into a tight hug "You're still my friend... And I care about you. Uh, we'll talk" He pulls away with a soft smile. "Yeah. We'll talk"

As soon as Kit exited the room, you tossed yourself onto the bed, letting out a long sigh. What did Kit's words mean? Not loving him for who he really is? Who is he really and if you find out, could it really be that bad?

[iamnmbr3]

I'm making a three-part podcast series on the phenomenon that is Drarry do you have any pointers on the top three things I should cover and could you give me a detailed account of how Drarry started in the first place?

Oooh nice! When you make it definitely come drop a link in my inbox because I want to listen to that! Of course, to some extent what you cover will depend on your audience and what kind of podcast you are making but I can certainly share my thoughts and I'm happy to answer specific questions if you have them.

I'm not the best person to give you a detailed history of the ship as it has been around for a WHILE and I got into it relatively recently given how long it's been a thing. (If others have thoughts on this please feel free to chime in). I think this Shipper's Guide to the Galaxy video gives a really good overview of the ship (including some history). Some information about the history of the ship can also be found here on the fanlore page.

As for what to cover, without knowing more about the podcast and your audiences interests and starting knowledge levels, it's hard for me to say. 3 things that I find interesting are (and again if you have other ideas please feel free to add onto this):

1) The strong canon basis for a drarry reading of the source material. Listen, ships don't have to be canon or based in canon to be fun or compelling or interesting. One of my all time favorite shipping fanfics is about two characters who never even met in canon. So it's not that I need my ships to be canon. But drarry...kinda is. It 100% was not JKR's intent but due to her own limitations as an author she accidentally kinda wrote them as a thing. I mean, there's a reason I have a whole "drarry in canon" tag on my blog. And that adds a really interesting dimension to the ship and also unintentionally adds a lot of depth and complexity to their canon characters and narratives and adds so much reread value to the books. There are soooo many interesting examples from the actual series to talk through. They are incredibly central to each other's arcs. They significantly impact each other's development and stories in innumerable ways.

2) The way this should be an enemies to lovers ship but it...kinda isn't. Listen, I got into fandom via kylux and lawlight. I love a "bitterest enemies to lovers" (or "bitterest enemies to bitterest enemies who are also lovers") ship dynamic. But imho that's not drarry. And that's FASCINATING to me. These characters have every reason to hate each other - first the are rivals at school and then they end up as soldiers on the opposite sides of a war. And yet, they can never bring themselves to. They are always strangely comfortable around each other, always hold back from doing each other serious harm (intentionally), and always, always save each other. When Draco has Harry incapacitated and at his mercy in book 6 Harry is not the least bit scared even though he (rightly) suspects Draco of being a Death Eater. I can't imagine him reacting the same way if he were in the same position around any other Death Eater. And yes, breaking Harry's nose was a very bad thing to do (though given the power of magical healing it's much less serious than in a muggle context) but it was quite mild given that Draco is a literal Death Eater by that point; he never even thinks of trying to kill Harry or deliver him to Voldemort. When Harry is in danger in book 7 Draco risks everything to save him, and similarly Harry always drops everything to save Draco - far beyond what he does for any other character who isn't a close friend, so no, it's not just his usual "saving people" thing. There are way to many examples of that to get into here. But it's something that I find particularly unique about the ship. They aren't friends. But they're never really enemies the way you'd expect. They are people who have every reason to hate and hurt each other, and yet can never bring themselves to.

3) The fascinating themes and world building concepts this fandom uses the ship as a jumping off point to explore. Listen, drarry is a huge fandom so there is no one typical drarry fic or interpretation. But something I really enjoy is seeing how a lot of drarry fics take time to really dive into Draco's redemption process and into the trauma that both he and Harry experienced in their youths and how that would affect them in the years after the war, and how they would both be impacted by, but also heal from it. In addition fics often tackle difficult issues with wizarding society - including the many pervasive forms of bigotry - that the books referenced but really didn't dive into. Plus so much world building happens - deep explorations of how magic works, wandlore, various creative ideas for post-war careers for both Harry and Draco etc. And I do love some of the commonly accepted fanon that totally should have happened - namely Harry giving Draco his wand back and also speaking at Draco's trial. It's just a great example of how fandom can really elevate the source material. It's especially nice with Draco because he has SO much potential as a character but for some reason JKR hates that and so it's nice to see people taking advantage of it.

[dee-morris]

Finally We're Going to Talk About Crowley

I really do love them equally but you wouldn't know it from my posting history because I constantly feel the need to ride to Aziraphale's defense every other week.

Anyway we talk incessantly about Aziraphale's behavior in the last scenes of season two for obvious reasons, but I think Crowley also needs some deconstructing. His behavior is less shocking; he appears to be reacting to Aziraphale more than taking the reins of the narrative himself. But there are a few key moments I want to look at more closely.

The first thing I thought of was how nonchalant he appeared to be about his only friend going off to have a private conversation with a powerful angel who clearly loathes the sight of him. "Go ahead, the day can't get any weirder" YES IT CAN YES IT CAN but anyway, I was deeply mistaken.

The second they're out of sight he jumps to his feet and stares out the window after them, then he starts to pace around the bookshop. He stops dead when he sees Muriel and goes back to nonchalant mode. "They'll be back soon."

(In the tone, imo, of a parent waiting for their kid to come back from a date and it's past curfew and they're not answering their cell.)

And then--he immediately tries to get rid of Muriel. Who doesn't want to leave, bc "The Metatron might need me!" And you can see the "oh my sweet summer child" expression cross Crowley's face. He's still his usual casual demonic No Fucks Given self on the outside, but he doubles down on getting Muriel out of the shop.

I don't want to spit in anyone's crepes with this next bit, but I don't think the "us time" portion of this conversation was intended to be romantic. I hypothesize that Crowley had just about made up his mind to have an honest conversation with Aziraphale about his Fall and whatever tf he's got going on with the Metabitch. And the "extremely alcoholic breakfast" was what he needed to get through the conversation.

I'm wandering into the realm of speculation at this point, but I think my hypotheses are based on canon events. Crowley does not talk about his Fall with Aziraphale and discourages any mention of his angel identity. That could just be a trauma response, but you don't see the same reticence when it comes up in conversation with Beelz or Muriel or even Jim. I think he's been protecting Aziraphale from something all this time, maybe for his own safety or maybe because he doesn't want Azi to lose faith in heaven/God. The way he tries to send Muriel away makes me think it's a physical safety thing.

But then Metacunt shows up in the flesh and Crowley goes, Yeah it's time to have The Talk.

So then what changed?

This next extrapolation is a bit tenuous so feel free to disagree, but I don't think Crowley was as lost in the woods as he seemed to be. Crowley is impulsive and emotional, but he's not stupid. My friend leaves with the most dangerous angel I know and comes back acting weird. We are not getting that breakfast at the Ritz, are we?

I think the confession and the kiss were sincere, but I also think they had a purpose. I think he was trying to snap Aziraphale out of whatever was making him act like a marionette on crack. But, "It's too late. It's always too late."

[saruman-the-silly]

Oh hello... I wanted to make a request, I wanted to know how the Papas would react to seeing that y/n is a little chubby. Because I was looking in the mirror and I was so sad about what I saw, and now I'm lying in bed scrolling through Tumblr thinking about making this request... You don't have to do it if you don't want to, It's just that I love the way you write that I kept thinking about it.

I very much want to, thank you very much :D there is nothing, and I repeat, nothing wrong with being a little chubby, or being a lot more chubby! Whatever size you are, you are beautiful, remember that <3

This also gives me a reason to finally write something for Primo and Secondo so thank you hehe

soooooo I present to you, headcanons about the papas with a chubby reader! (gender neutral ofc hehe)

(I wrote this kind of quickly so if there are horrible grammatical errors, I will try and fix them as I find them lol)

------------------------------

Headcanons: Papas with a chubby reader

Primo:

He's very old, and a bit old-fashioned, so he just instantly thought you were an angel when he saw you. Back in his days, the curvier you were, the more attractive you were.

When he got to know you as a person, he grew to love you very quickly.

All of your curves and imperfections were a work of art for him.

Primo is also such a gentle person, and would notice the instant you were feeling down/insecure. He doesn't pressure you to talk about it though, but he still makes sure you know that he's there for you.

If you wanna talk tho? He would listen really well, and after you had poured your insecurities out on the table, he would assure you that your curves just made you more, well, you. And you were his amore, the most beautiful thing in the world.

Secondo:

He's a serious guy who does not like to talk about emotions and stuff. (I don't think he even knows how but lmao anyway)

Secondo's usually serious and no-bullshit charade was quickly torn away by you and your delightful presence. (He was freaking out like crazy when he first met you, Terzo would not let him forget how he stumbled over his words when he was first introduced to you)

Also, fuck, he couldn't keep his eyes from you. Every time you are in a same room with him, his gaze almost involuntarily shifts back to you.

He loves you. So much. So when you came to him, telling how you didn't think you looked good, he was a little confused. How could you see yourself in such a light, when you had made such an impact on him?

He reassures you that yes, he wants to be with you and nobody else.

He doesn't really know say anything else. But he doesn't need to, his actions prove the endless love he harbours for you.

Terzo:

Ah, Terzo, our hopeless romantic.

Terzo has seen many different types of bodies up close and personal during his life, but not one of them could match your beauty.

Needless to say, when he first met you he fell. Hard. Like, head over heels. Out the door went his playboy days, he only had eyes for you.

He literally worships the ground you walk on.

You had trouble believing him, when he confessed his undying love for you. (Don't blame him he just likes to be theatrical but he really did mean it)

You confessed to Terzo about your insecurities, and he proved himself to be a great listener. After talking, he reassured you that yes, he meant what he said, yes, he wants to be with you.

He would then bring you in front of a mirror, and gently kiss and caress all the parts of your body you are insecure about.

Copia:

He would understand your struggles very well. Having a history with insecurities himself, Copia isn't a stranger to body dysmorphia.

Copia loves you. So much. You helped him get through a lot of his insecurities, so, now was his turn.

He let you vent, while making you a cup of tea, and wrapped you in a tight hug afterwards. You cried in his arms and he just held you and comforted you.

Copia is very direct about his feelings toward you. He lists all the things he loves about you, and tells you how you size just makes you all the more perfect. (the man loves thick thighs)

He would do his best to make you see yourself in the same light he sees you. Copia gently traces over your stretchmarks with his finger, then kisses them and whispers to you how beautiful you are.

---------------------------

Thanks for the request annnd enjoy :D

Remember, you are beautiful no matter your size <3

[inkedberries]

Hey! Prefacing this by saying that this isn't meant to be an attack (which generally isn't a great way to start a message but I'd rather be clear about intentions) and more so genuine curiosity. Apologizing in advance for this being long; I have a tendency to overthink and overexplain.

I don't typically interact with fandom outside of like... carefully curated little microbiomes. As such I haven't really encountered the whole proship/anti shit with any amount of seriousness since probably around 2018. I personally don't put much stock into either of the terms because there's far too much grey area and for the fact that (as per my understanding) exist as ethical frameworks, and I don't care much for subscribing purely to a single framework to the exclusion of anything else in terms of personal ethics and morality. At most with friends we tend to colloquially refer to incest + pedophile ships as proships, because that's just sort-of what the term has evolved to mean most strongly (again, at least in the circles I run in). I don't consider myself anti or proship or whatever the fuck else, because I generally don't care to involve myself with that kind of fandom drama. I'll involve myself over like, matters of being anti-bigotry but the rest is just something I haven't wanted to deal with for 5-6 years. Tagging + filtering + block functions exist for a reason, and I don't need to do anything more than prevent my feed from showing me those things. I generally just hit block and move on with that kind of stuff, especially because I'm anti-censorship for a variety of reasons.

Tl;dr on that: proship/anti aren't terms I really use or subscribe to, because I feel like they oversimplify everything and conflate "drama". From my understanding, I agree with proship ideology (????) in the sense that I believe censorship only fucks over everyone, and that you can just block + filter and move on. But at the same time I see this overall conception that 'proship' means you support/condone/etc incest and pedophilia and so on, which I really truly don't. But there is this really heavy perception that proship = this person ships (usually) pedophilic or incestuous relationships. A bit reinforced for me typically because when something like that comes across my feed and I go to block the person, they generally have 'proship' in their bio. That to acknowledge that I do have some bias in that, even if I know it's a correlation/not cause thing. That all being (over)said (and I'm SO sorry again about how fucking long this is, my twitter TL is having a meltdown and I've avoided all this stuff for so long I don't know if I'm missing something? Because ethically on my end there's no reason for me to block or whatever outside of just the word proship...? Two minutes for a quick search as as far as I can tell you don't participate in anything against my own comfort/moral beliefs. so) I guess I'm asking what your definition of proship is for yourself and why people are jumping to this conclusion of dislike so instantaneously? Obviously you're under no obligation to educate me on what I presume is fucking YEARS of fandom history, nor respond publicly or even at all. I'm only asking you specifically because this is the first time I've encountered 'being proship' ≠ shipping pedophilia etc etc. I think maybe I came across it way back when as a middle schooler, but I'm not about to trust any of my opinions/recollections from when I was that age lmao. But anyways. Just genuinely curious and wanting to understand because I'm wary of reacting too-quickly just because other people are, and especially so if it's actually a total non-issue for me. Sorry again for the insane rambling in this lol

hello!! i hope you don't mind me prefacing this response too by saying to please read this out fully, if you don't agree with the starting points i've provided, i hope you still continue on reading until the end💙 i think @/frownyalfred best words the defense i would most likely stumble on if i give it a go at answering your question with my own words

and this was a post made in 2016 (where a lot of ppl say is the year anti-shippers started sprouting up) and this is honestly what i mean when i say i hate antis

if anything, antis just started the propaganda that all proshippers are incest lovers and pedophiles and people ate it up like cats who haven't had wet food in three weeks. as proven by your friend group using the term as such? that's wild to me that ppl use the term proship like that, i hope the case i'm making will change that for you and your friend group.

no, proship literally is anti-censorship. ship and let ship. antis gatekeep, police shippers and harass anyone who doesn't ship their ship the RIGHT way. and it's not just the ships you say are 'harmful' or 'immoral'. i've shipped a rarepair before and the fandom at large did not like me shipping a rarepair so they started calling me a pedophile bc i aged up said characters???????? they'll find anything and i mean ANYTHING to twist everything i say and do to make it seem like it's "okay" for me to be harassed and bullied. "oh it's okay that i'm telling this person to die because they're gross," yeah no that behavior is So Much More Normal than a person shipping two fictional characters the "wrong" way. AND YOU KNOW WHAT'S FUCKED UP? ppl BELIEVED THEM LMAOOOO

and hey no sweat, i was like you once. i didn't define myself as proship or anti bc the real world exists but then in the one space i thought i'd be free from real life speculation and surveillance i get these anti policing assholes so yeah im a proshipper now lol just to get away from that bs. i honestly just want to have fun on here without judgement but i can't even have that lol that's why im all about blocking/muting.

you say your tl is having a meltdown? well shit, they're probably calling me names on there too. probably throwing out baseless accusations without fact checking bc i'm lowlife enough not be respected or given the decency of a fact check? or saying my art wasn't good anyway? bc gatekeeping their precious kudoichi is so much more righteous, top priority that they start slandering a real life person, right? no no no one disgusting should be touching or shipping our precious kudoichi lmao i hope you see how Not Right this is. kinda makes me feel sick for real lol

and i hope you understand how harmful this is not just to my mental state but my livelihood as an artist as these people would just start policing their fellow fans and just tell them not to support or view my art because im a 'proshipper' not even that, they'd probably just straight up say i support incest and pedophilia which are?????? such STRONG accusations to make????????? now they're just buzzwords. BUZZWORDS for antis to use to defame and cancel an artist! a real life person. over their precious fictional characters. over their precious kudoichi. oh man it makes it so much more stupid if i specify the ship, what is wrong with people sometimes😭

but hey im all about blocking and muting and unfollowing if you don't like my stuff i'm 100% for that but i hope they do it on their own terms. their own thinking. not because someone told them to.

and i dunno man that behavior of not even letting their 'friends' think for themselves, that they'd bash them too if they support me, my art, kinda seems like grooming don't it? or nah no im just looking into it. it might not be that deep. but i really yeah that's why i hate antis and why im more proship.

but hey i appreciate you even taking the time to come to me in the first place and uhhh idk i hope you found what you were looking for and that i answered your bit of curiousity there!

[armpirate]

RED || Jungkook | Ch. 10

MASTERLIST Previous ||  Next

Pairings: Demon!Jungkook x fem!reader  

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, fantasy, past life

Warnings: Explicit language, mention of death and suicide, demonology, violence, rough sex

Summary: Y/n thought her life couldn't get worse after losing her parents in a tragic accident. Years after, she's aware of everyone moving forward, while she's in the same place, isolated and alone. She struggles to find meaning in a world that seems indifferent to her grief. Desperate for comfort, to feel the deep connection she had been missing, she starts the manifestation, expecting an inoffensive entity to walk with her that rough path. What she doesn't know is that she awoke the mysterious entity tied to an old necklace around her neck.

Jungkook, a mysterious and seductive figure, appears in her life, offering the company she craves. But as his presence grows stronger, so does the unsettling sense that there's more to him -and the necklace- than meets the eye, unfolding all the reasons that took him to that place.

Now, as the past bleeds into the present, Y/n must fight with her growing feelings for the demon who seems familiar yet dangerous. Jungkook is determined to reclaim his power, but in doing so, he may doom Y/n once again. Bound by fate, the two are locked in a dangerous mix of love, redemption, and the looming threat of destruction. 

Will they break the curse that has haunted them both, or will history repeat itself with devastating consequences?

Chapter duration: 17 minutes

The mall, once alive with bright lights and chatter, now felt wrong. The overhead fluorescent glow seemed harsher, the voices of passing shoppers strangely muffled. Y/n struggled to ignore the prickling sensation at the nape of her neck, the distinct feeling that something -or someone- was watching.

Jungkook walked beside her, his steps calculated, his posture too rigid. Gone was the smug, lazy confidence he usually carried. Instead, his sharp eyes darted between bodies, scanning, analyzing. Searching. Looking for anything that could be a danger for either of them, but, for some reason, more dangerously for her.

Y/n clenched her fists, swallowing against the tightness in her throat. The warning he had given her moments ago still echoed in her head and did nothing to her other than to blindly follow him to avoid whatever it was that got him so paranoid.

Don't look back.

But the urge was unbearable. Every instinct screamed at her to turn around, to see whatever it is he was sensing. Her shoulders twitched with the need to move, to confirm that it was all in her head, that maybe she was running away from something that wouldn't hurt her.

And yet... something tells her it wasn't.

—Are you going to tell me what's going on? —Y/n finally muttered, her voice low but firm.

Jungkook didn't respond right away. Instead, he suddenly reached for her hand, his fingers wrapping around hers -not with the playful teasing or possessiveness he'd shown before, but with purpose. Urgency. He wanted to make sure she was following him, he wanted to make sure they wouldn't get stuck in a place because she refused to move.

—We need to leave. Now.

His voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it, a warning that sent a chill creeping up her spine.

Her body tensed, breath catching. She'd seen Jungkook irritated, amused, and downright infuriating, but never like that -never tense, never afraid. And genuinely, she couldn't understand what would make him react that way. He didn't have any worries while he was leeching off her energy, he didn't have any enemies to run from -hell, if he did have them, they all were probably long dead.

The hand gripping hers tightened, as if sensing her hesitation.

—Y/n —he murmured, low and serious—. Move.

That was all it took. Her feet started moving, following his lead as he weaved through the crowd, navigating the busy mall with an ease that felt unnatural, like he'd done that before.

The feeling of being watched only grew stronger.

Y/n's breath came quicker now, her pulse hammering as Jungkook pulled her through the crowd. They moved fast, weaving between shoppers, past store windows reflecting their blurred forms. The air still felt thick, pressing against her skin like an invisible weight.

She risked a glance up at him. His jaw was set tight, his gaze locked ahead. He looked pissed, but more than that -focused. Whatever he sensed, whatever he was trying to avoid, it was serious.

—Where are we even going? —she huffed, struggling to match his strides.

—Somewhere that isn't here —he muttered, eyes flicking toward an open corridor leading to another wing of the mall.

They were almost past a café when...

—Y/n?

She froze.

It was just a voice. A single word. But it hit her, slicing through the air like a razor, knocking the breath from her lungs. Her whole body froze at that voice, as if all of her muscles remembered something, as if something had just clicked for her.

Jungkook barely noticed, still walking, still pulling her forward -until she stopped. His grip faltered, and he was only able to move away for a few feet until a strange force was keeping him from moving any further. His tongue clicked, and his arms dropped to his side in annoyance when he knew what that meant.

Y/n turned her head, and there he was.

Sitting at one of the outdoor café tables, coffee in hand, looking as effortlessly put together as he always did. Time hadn't touched him the way it had touched her. Clearly, time didn't destroy those who made others suffer, which was so ironic and unfair.

He still had that same perfectly composed look, the kind that used to make her feel lucky, once upon a time. The kind of look that made her go crazy with just a glance, and that now repulsed her.

It just made her awfully sick.

Her stomach tightened. The room tilted ever so slightly, and everything that seemed important vanished in front of her when memories kept flashing.

His eyes swept over her, slowly, with an expression that bordered on amusement. His lips parted, like he was about to say something more, but she was already looking away. Already turning back.

She knew that look, she knew the way he was breathing in before talking was only a warm up to the biggest nonsense someone could think of. She knew whatever it was he was going to say would either be meaningless or destroy her.

—Let's go —she said, barely giving Jungkook time to complain as he approached her again.

Jungkook didn't hesitate this time. He pulled her forward again, harder, faster, and she followed. But her limbs felt numb, her chest hollow. She kept her head down, but she felt it -the way the air around her had changed, the way her skin burned under a gaze she didn't want to acknowledge.

They didn't stop moving until they were deep in another part of the mall, far from where she had left him.

—What was that? —Jungkook finally asked, turning to her.

—Nothing.

She forced the word out too quickly. Too forced.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. She could tell he wanted to press, but something in her expression stopped him. Instead, he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before muttering:

—I swear, if you attract one more annoying human today...

His irritation should have been funny, should have been a welcome distraction, but she barely registered it. Her heart was still pounding, ears ringing with echoes of a voice she had spent months trying to erase.

She didn't look back.

As Y/n and Jungkook wove through the crowd, her heart pounded relentlessly, but not because of their supposed pursuers. The ghost of her past clung to her, suffocating, threatening to pull her under. Even as Jungkook led her forward, the weight of that lingering stare from behind felt like chains wrapping around her ankles, trying to drag her back.

Jungkook, oblivious to what had just happened, remained focused on getting them out of the mall. His jaw was set, his grip still firm, but his eyes flickered with something unreadable. He sensed something was wrong with her, but, for once, he didn't pry.

Not yet.

They finally burst through the exit, stepping into the biting cold air. The contrast between the overheated mall and the winter chill nearly knocked the breath out of Y/n, grounding her, pulling her out of the spiraling thoughts that had threatened to consume her.

Jungkook slowed down but didn't let go of her wrist just yet. He turned his head slightly, eyes scanning the area, waiting.

For what, she didn't know.

—Are you going to tell me what the hell that was about? —he finally asked, voice sharp but not unkind.

Y/n exhaled, running a shaky hand through her hair.

—I should be asking you that —she deflected, attempting to regain some semblance of composure.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes, not buying it, but before he could push further, something behind her seemed to catch his attention.

Y/n turned just in time to see a hooded figure emerge from the mall entrance. They were too far to make out any details, but the way they lingered—just barely in sight, yet not approaching—sent a fresh wave of unease through her.

Jungkook let out a humorless chuckle.

—Of course.

Y/n stiffened.

—What?

—He's still here —he muttered, more to himself than to her.

She swallowed hard, still shaken from seeing her ex, but now an entirely different fear began to creep in.

—Who is "he" exactly? —she asked carefully.

Jungkook met her eyes, his own dark and unreadable.

—Someone who wants me back.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The city moved around them, people coming and going, unaware of the storm brewing between them.

Then Jungkook released her wrist.

—We need to go somewhere safe.

Y/n hesitated, still shaken, still not ready to deal with whatever new chaos this day was throwing at her. But she knew one thing for certain -whatever had just happened inside the mall, it wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

The night air was sharp against Y/n's skin as they hurried down the sidewalk, the hum of the city a distant blur to her ears. She was still shaken, her mind struggling to catch up with the whirlwind of events, but Jungkook's grip on her wrist was unrelenting -firm, demanding, like he wasn't going to let her slow down even for a second.

They needed to get out of here.

—We need to go back to your cave.

—My cave? —she frowned.

—Yes, that depressive place you call home.

Y/n wanted to roll her eyes and snap back, but she chose to leave it for another moment, another moment when they weren't being chased down by something she couldn't quite tell what it was. Instead of showing off her annoyance, she just sighed as she moved her hand away from his.

—Okay, let's go back to the station —she suggested, with a sigh.

—The station for what?

—To get the subway? — she ironically asked between breaths, though she already knew what his answer would be.

Jungkook scoffed, barely sparing her a glance.

—That filthy contraption? Never again.

Again, she held herself back from reacting. That man had a particular way of calling things he didn't like. It was impressive how old he sounded when he was annoyed, his centuries old being obvious then.

—Wel... I think I have enough money for a cab back home —she suggested, gesturing towards the line of taxis by the curb.

But Jungkook shook his head.

—Cars can be tracked. We walk.

Y/n let out a breathless, incredulous laugh.

—Tracked by who?

She regretted asking the moment the words left her lips.

Jungkook's expression darkened, his eyes flicking toward something behind her. His grip on her tightened, fingers pressing into her skin like a silent warning.

Her stomach twisted.

She turned before she could stop herself.

Among the shifting sea of people, standing completely still, was a man in an all-black suit. He was tall, his posture unnervingly rigid, and yet, no one around him seemed to notice. The bright city lights should have illuminated his face, but instead, shadows clung to him unnaturally, as if reality itself refused to define him.

A suffocating chill wrapped around her spine.

Then, the man smiled.

It wasn't a kind smile. It wasn't warm or friendly. It was deliberate. Calculated. And worst of all -knowing.

Y/n's breath hitched in her throat. A sharp, instinctive panic kicked in, telling her to move, now.

Jungkook cursed under his breath, and before she could fully process what she had just seen, he yanked her forward. His grip was no longer just firm -it was urgent.

—What the hell was that?! —she hissed, stumbling slightly as he practically dragged her through the crowd.

—Bad news —Jungkook muttered, his voice clipped, sharp.

There was no teasing in his tone, no smug arrogance -just cold, focused determination. Y/n risked another glance over her shoulder, but her breath caught when she realized...

The man was gone.

Her chest tightened. The spot where he had been standing was empty, as if he had never existed in the first place. But the unease curling in her stomach told her otherwise.

Jungkook didn't slow down. He moved like a predator sensing danger, weaving them through the crowd with practiced ease, his hand still locked tightly around hers.

—For fuck's sake, do you have any idea how far from home we are? If you keep up that speed, I assure you I won't make it home —she asked him to stop—. Besides, that thing isn't around anymore.

Although Jungkook couldn't assure her how long he'd be gone. He still agreed, letting her walk at her own speed with a mockering gesture, following her up close.

—Is he... like you? —she asked after some minutes in silence, encouraging herself to know more about him, about everything he dragged into her world with him.

—He's worse —he calmly said—. And he's not alone.

The words made her blood turn to ice.

Her heart pounded against her ribs as she glanced at the people around them. Was it just her, or were there too many men dressed in black? She could feel it now -that eerie, suffocating sensation pressing in on them. The weight of unseen eyes watching their every move.

They weren't just running from one man. They were being hunted by things she couldn't even explain, because she didn't know their nature -nor she hadn't seen them clearly.

They weaved through the crowded street, but no matter how fast they moved, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. It wasn't paranoia -it was real. Every time she glanced around, she caught sight of them.

Watching.

The weight of their gazes pressed into her skin like invisible hands. The air felt heavy, thick, as if she was trudging through something unseen.

Jungkook pulled Y/n forward, his grip firm, his pace unrelenting. They wove through the dense crowd spilling out of the mall, their hurried movements barely noticeable among the sea of people rushing through the city streets. Y/n's pulse pounded in her ears, but it wasn't from the running -it was from the feeling that they were still watching.

The figures hadn't followed, not in the conventional sense. They never moved through the crowd like normal people. Instead, every time she dared to glance back, they were just there -standing, waiting, like shadows bleeding into the edges of reality.

Jungkook suddenly stopped. Y/n nearly crashed into him, gripping his sleeve.

—What? What's wrong? —she whispered.

His jaw clenched, eyes darting over the heads of the pedestrians flowing around them. Whatever he saw made his expression harden.

—They're still tracking me —he muttered under his breath.

Y/n followed his gaze, but there was no single target -no dark figure weaving through the crowd in pursuit. And yet, the hair on the back of her neck stood up, her skin prickling with the sensation of being observed.

—How? —she asked— They're not moving...

—They don't need to —he cut in.

His voice was tight, his irritation laced with something else. Something she almost wanted to call unease.

Then he exhaled sharply.

—Tss. Guess I have no choice.

He dropped her hand. At first, she thought he was going to do something drastic, maybe something reckless -something he'd only do. But instead, he closed his eyes, flexed his fingers, and let out a slow, measured breath.

The shift was immediate.

It was like someone had taken a dimmer switch to his presence. One moment, he was there -that sharp-edged, overwhelming force that made him impossible to ignore. And the next...

Gone.

Not physically -he was still standing right in front of her. Still breathing, still existing. But something fundamental about him had muted. His presence, once so demanding of attention, now barely registered at all. It was unnerving. Y/n had spent the past twenty-four hours being acutely aware of his existence, even when she was fighting hard to make it disappear. Even when she was physically away from him. Now, standing beside him felt like standing next to nothing.

She shivered.

—What did you just do? —she murmured.

Jungkook rolled his shoulders like he was shaking off an uncomfortable weight.

—Lowered myself.

His voice was flatter now, lacking its usual resonance. He still looked the same -same clothes, same face- but his essence was weaker, like a fire reduced to embers. If she weren't looking at him, she might have thought he had disappeared entirely.

—They track energy, not just sight. My existence is usually too loud for humans to ignore. But now? —he smirked, but there was no humor in it— I'm just another warm body in the crowd.

Y/n swallowed, glancing around. The figures -those things that had been watching- were still in the distance. But they were... hesitating. Unmoving. It was as if they had lost their scent, unable to pinpoint Jungkook among the sea of ordinary humans.

It was working.

Jungkook's smirk faded.

—Come on. Let's move before they figure it out.

Y/n nodded, resisting the urge to reach for his hand again. Even though he was right beside her, she couldn't shake the eerie feeling that she was walking next to a ghost.

The door clicked shut behind them, sealing them inside the quiet sanctuary of Y/n's apartment -one that she never thought she'd miss so much. The weight of the outside world still pressed against her skin, an invisible residue from the encounter at the mall. She stood there for a moment, catching her breath, her back leaning against the door as if she needed it to keep herself upright.

Jungkook, on the other hand, didn't look nearly as affected. He shrugged off the borrowed jacket she had given him, draping it over a chair before stretching his arms over his head.

—Well —he exhaled, cracking his neck—. That was fun.

Y/n narrowed her eyes at him.

—Fun?

He shot her a crooked grin.

—You humans panic so easily. It's entertaining.

—Excuse me for not being used to being stalked by interdimensional creepypasta rejects —she snapped, pushing off the door.

She ran a hand through her hair, still feeling the phantom sensation of that whisper against her ear. She hated that it still sent shivers down her spine.

Jungkook watched her for a moment, then -unexpectedly-his smirk faded.

—They spoke to you, didn't they?

Y/n hesitated. He took a step closer, his dark eyes catching hers.

—What did they say?

She shook her head, forcing a scoff.

—It doesn't matter.

Jungkook didn't blink.

—It does if they know you're the one who called me.

Y/n's lips parted slightly, but no sound came out. It wasn't like she had done it on purpose -she hadn't summoned him, she had just...

Her gaze flickered toward the necklace resting against her collarbone. The same one she had mindlessly traced between her fingers for months, never knowing what it actually was. What it held.

—You should not have called him —she repeated.

She clenched her jaw, before letting out a loud huff and throwing a fist in the air, not knowing exactly what she was fighting.

—I didn't call anyone —she repeated again—. It was a fucking mistake.

Jungkook studied her for a beat longer, as if testing the truth in her words. Then, finally, he let out a short chuckle.

—Doesn't matter now. They know you called me, and they know you're the one who messed things up.

The nonchalance in his voice sent a spike of irritation through her.

—And what does that mean, exactly? That I'm doomed?

—Not necessarily —Jungkook mused, plopping down onto her couch, his arm draping over the back like he owned the place—. Depends on how much they care.

—Oh, great. Super reassuring.

Y/n turned away, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes for a moment, trying to make sense of everything. This wasn't how today was supposed to go. She was supposed to be struggling with normal problems, like the fact that she now shared a living space with a demonic entity with an attitude problem. Not this. Not being stalked by something worse.

She exhaled sharply, dropping her hands.

—Who are they?

He didn't answer immediately. His fingers tapped against the armrest, his expression unreadable. Then, finally:

—They're the ones who make sure things stay the way they should.

The way he said it made her skin crawl.

—Like a... supernatural police force?

Jungkook laughed -an actual laugh this time, but there was no warmth in it.

—Police force? No. Think of them more like... —he tilted his head, considering— Custodians. They clean up anomalies. Make sure the balance isn't disturbed.

Y/n swallowed.

—And you...?

His smirk returned, sharp and knowing.

—I'm the mess.

—Of course.

A cold weight settled in her stomach.

—I'll agree with them on that, though —she sighed.

Jungkook leaned forward suddenly, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze locking onto hers with unsettling intensity.

—But here's the fun part —he said, voice almost playful—: right now, you're part of the mess too.

The room seemed to shrink around her.

—So you better hope they lose interest —Jungkook continued, his grin widening—. Because once they start cleaning up? They don't leave anything behind.

Y/n felt her breath hitch.

Outside, a distant sound echoed through the quiet night. Something too rhythmic, too deliberate. Like footsteps on pavement.

She turned toward the window.

Jungkook was already watching it too.

But when she met his gaze again, he only smiled.

—Sweet dreams, princess.

He saw the way she clenched her jaw, holding herself back from spitting every thought she had on him, before closing herself inside the bathroom.

It was then, while alone, that he allowed himself to worry, to show off how strangled he was at their appearance.

They didn't show up a single time when he had been manifested before, he only saw them once, and it was before they threw that punishment on him. So why were they showing up now?

Taglist: @vsr4197 , @aznstoner

[klerothesnowman]

The New Lower Decks Episode Wasn't About Multiverse Fatigue

I know I usually talk about Star Wars but I like other things that start with Star too! Stargate, Starfox and yes, Star Trek.

I also really, really love Lower Decks. The combination of irreverent comedy and absolutely reverence for a franchise's history and themes is a great combination, no matter what. To bring it back to Star Wars just for a moment, look at the latest Lego Star Wars movie. People love it, and it's got the same DNA as Lower Decks!

But I have a feeling about the new episode of Lower Decks and a cursory search on tumblr suggests I'm the only one feeling it, though people are brushing against it! So I guess I gotta be the one to say it.

Lower Decks is, as an elevator pitch, a Star Trek series starring Star Trek Nerds, made by Star Trek Nerds. Everything in this show drips with a desperate love for every facet of the franchise, from its characters and stories to its themes and universe and this love is reflected in its main characters, especially Mariner and Boimler. Our main pair are absolute giddy nerds every time something Star Trek happens. They lose their minds at the idea of meeting famous Star Trek characters, they know the tropes of a Star Trek episode and get big smiles when they recognize them. Mariner's big emotional climax in Season 4 is even reflective of the way some Star Trek Nerds react to DS9 and post DS9 Star Trek content. It's darker, it's violent, it's big space battles where no one comes out as a hero rather than exploring the galaxy with an optimistic glee. It's not Star Fleet. It's not Star Trek.

These characters are another facet of Lower Deck's desperate love. It's their love for the Fandom.

I'm going to completely contradict my title for a second, yes, absolutely, Boimler's entire character in this episode was about how sick people are of the Multiverse. Because boy howdy are we so fucking sick of it right? We all agree we're sick of it? But here's the thing about the corporate hellscape Multiverse that we're all so sick of.

It's not Gashir being confirmed. No one is making canon alt universes where characters are gay on screen, they were already gay. Yet they're the alternate universe characters who are treated with the most importance.

Garak and Bashir take up a sizable portion of the episodes run time for literally no reason. Their lovers quarrel doesn't matter. You could get rid of Bashir entirely and nothing would change, you'd just need to pad out about 5 minutes of episode. So why was it there?

Because it's fucking Garak and Bashir being on screen gay as fuck, what am I talking about that's worth 5 minutes! And like, yeah, I'm right, absolutely, BUT ALSO?

At the emotional climax of the episode multiverse explorer Lily Sloane convinces Boimler that the multiverse is cool because it's a glimpse into humanities limitless potential. How it's enlightening to experience how different someone could be just because of a minor change in their trajectory. How a completely different team of Avengers would handle the battle of New York, how Spider-Man would be if he was a neo-noir detective, what Hela would be like if she was banished to earth instead of imprisoned.

But that's not Star Trek Multiverses, right? Star Trek multiverses are like... What if we flipped the entire script stuff. Terran Empire and all that. They don't explore minor character changes. They're not about minor variations on beloved characters. This isn't the Star Trek that Lower Decks is dripping with love for.

Another Tumblr user (@abigailnussbaum) had a theory that Curzon was supposed to be Jadzia, because every other character in the crew was "Someone who was screwed by the narrative, writers or just something the fans have long wanted to see"

Another user (@halfbakedideas) said that the episode felt like "a fanfiction writer wrote it"

The reason so much of this episode focused on Garak and Bashir's enduring and perfect love for each other is because the alternate universe where they are on screen gay lovers is the point. It's the beautiful universe that we're exploring.

The episode was about Fan Fiction. It was the Lower Decks writers expressing their appreciation and desperate love for the Fandom writing these characters in new situations, exploring their limitless potential from a narrative position.

[deadlysoupy]

complete (for now!) character sheets of my blorbo (huge thanks to @arcandoria your contribution to the fandom is incredible bless)

explanations under the cut (there's a lot bc i'm a yapper) (spoilers!)

Bellara: Rook and Bellara hit it off pretty much since the beginning. Rook loves to tinker, and Bellara's brain is always full of ideas, so they hang out a lot together just taking stuff apart and putting them together. despite Urchin not being a mage, he has basically grown up with mages and seen magic a lot in Tevinter, so i think he'd know a little bit. they bounce off each other really well, and when Cyrian comes back and she hits a low point, he supports her with a joke or lets her rant. neither he nor she will probably ever say it out loud, since it's a sensitive topic for both, but they consider each other siblings or cousins at least

Davrin: complete opposite of Bellara, Rook and Davrin got off on the wrong foot and couldn't get up lmao. Davrin had a problem with how Urchin handles things, he considers the Lords to be unethical and rude bastards, and how Urchin rushes into battle or does careless things. Urchin also hated how heroic Davrin seemed to pose as, he's pretty much jealous of his dalish upbringing, and his history with the Grey Wardens. they even got into a fight at some point (Urchin started it, by the way). but after that, they reach an understanding that turns into deep respect for what each of them went through, and to say that Rook would miss Davrin as his unbiased opinion and who wouldn't be afraid to challenge him is to say nothing

Emmrich: at first they got along great. the Lords taught Urchin to be respectful to spirits, and he's fascinated by death and the life beyond it. but Emmrich is a very "touchy-feely", inquisitive and curious person, which Urchin is a complete opposite of. still can't get out of my head the graveyard scene when Emmrich confides and talks about his parents, and Rook, trying to react in his usual non-emotional way, makes a joke, to which Emmrich deeply disapproves and Urchin has to apologize. that's the gist of their relationship, to be honest, but it does become better after a while. his experience in life helps Urchin a lot, and he likes listening to Emmrich talk about magic

Harding: good friends who goof around a lot! i don't have much to say about them to be honest, but i think there's potential here for so many goofs and gaffs and getting in jail. reminiscent of that one "mayhem!" line Harding has in a dlc of Inquisition, i think she'd be down to cause some chaos in Minrathous or something. Urchin also understands her anger, and he's remorseful at their revelation that the Titans died because of the elves. all in all, they're on very good terms

Lucanis: hooo boy. where do i even start and how do i make this as short as possible. there's always been an understanding between these two, even beyond romance, that was just a cherry on top. Lucanis had a lot going on when he came into the story, so Urchin gave him space and support when he needed it, because he knows how something that traumatic can hurt, and that sometimes you just don't want to talk about it. it's hard for them both to express feelings, and Lucanis is a guy of action rather than words, so he cooks, gives little gifts, gestures, and Rook in turn gives him compliments, jokes with him, takes him out on dates etc because he's more of a words guy. i don't know i could make a separate post about their specific romance that i've built in my head, give me an ask if you want it i denno

Neve: his emotionally stunted wife. you probably noticed how their bars are just insanely covered with colours, and that's because of the whole "Minrathous or Treviso" thing. i milk so much drama out of that choice because it's really good! beside the obvious, Rook couldn't really save Minrathous because of his past with slavery, but he still feels so bad about it because of Neve's love for it. and i don't think she can ever forgive him, actually, but she tries moving past it. the fact that they both had crushes on each other that turned south is kinda funny to me, because they're like two sides of the same coin! she's so afraid to get close to other people, she's snarky and doesn't turn down a good joke, her sense of style is incredible (i imagine them exchanging Tevinter fashion tips). they're still close even after the game, and grow closer after it, and Rook, Neve and Lucanis become a polycule. traumacule. do you see the vision

Taash: saved the best for last i guess because Urchin and Taash are like two siblings who hate each other. well, not exactly hate. i really liked how their relationship began, when Taash tells Rook how the Lords aren't thieves, and he's like "but we stole shit! literally!" and i think there's a really interesting contrast here. Taash was taught by their mother about cultural appropriation and respect, while Rook was Isabela's apprentice. Isabela's! there's no question he doesn't have almost any morals at all. so Taash thinks Rook's a jerk, but Urchin doesn't mind it much. after that, they bond over their gender issues, and since Urchin found his identity he shares his experience with them. in turn, Taash teaches him about dragons. they're also both from mixed cultures, so they have this solidarity over their messy lives. they're neat i like them

whoever read until the end. holy shit i want to kiss you

[artist-issues]

this my sound silly, but do you have any advice on how you come up with something to say for a story?

I think you're right that good art has something to say and communicates it well. That's certainly true of every story I've ever loved.

But while I love inventing fantasy worlds, you've made me realize I've never actually planned to say anything with them.

I've got lots of opinions, lots of beliefs, lots of stuff to say, but now that I realize I need to, it's been hard to pick one of those to be the core point of a story.

the trouble is, the dominant writing advice I saw online was the opposite. that stories made for the purpose of communicating a message or promoting something just turn into preachy propaganda, so the best way to make a good story (that, dare I invoke the curse, appealed to a wider audience) was to muddy it so you could take away as many interpretations from it as possible. thus most of the material I've given myself to work with has been slightly poisoned.

I really like how you said all of that! I agree with your assessment of the advice most people give.

Here's how I do it:

A loose concept, like a disgraced knight falling in love with the King's head of staff who's come to live in the village he's hiding in, will pop into my brain. I'll like the concept. I'll imagine one or two interactions between them that I just like.

But when it comes time to write anything down, even just for my own notes—then it's time to find a message. And usually that's not hard, or at least, that's not disingenuous, because:

what I believe, my worldview, was already subliminally shaping the things that I liked.

So then as I go to write down the names, the histories, the plot points, of my fun little knight love story idea, I find that something kind of...readily fits them.

But now here's the catch; it really helps to know what you believe, and to feel strongly about it, for all of that to come as naturally as possible.

About Propaganda "versus" Stories:

It's a lie to say that something which is created to say something is always propaganda, and something which is created with no careful point thought out is always art. Silly thing to believe. It's like saying "all words are propaganda." No, all words are communication. It's not our fault they don't like that we know what we want to say, and we want them to understand it clearly.

I mean. All art is propaganda, if by "propaganda" or "preachy" you mean, "I tried to take what was going on in my head & heart and put it in your head & heart." All art, all storytelling, is that. Otherwise you'd just keep what you think and feel bouncing around in your own brain, instead of doing anything outward (writing, drawing, painting, singing, speaking, reacting with your body language) with it.

I think what people are getting at when they say "avoid being preachy" or "that's not art, it's propaganda" is "you weren't being genuine." And that can be true. Sometimes people can tack a meaning onto a movie or a story where it doesn't fit because they either a) don't believe that strongly in the thing themselves, but everyone around them was clamoring for it or b) they were lazy and didn't do the work to make the story fit, genuinely, with the message, in a way that enhances and makes the message winsome.

But as bad as those two mistakes are, neither of them prove that intending to say something with your story, very carefully and genuinely, that you don't want misinterpreted, is somehow a bad thing.

Look at the fairy tales that the Brothers' Grimm collected. Look at any stories from the time before commercialism: Our oldest stories combined genuine enjoyment with the virtues and meanings that made enjoyment possible/worthwhile.

Anyway. I have a feeling you agree with me already about this so I'll hop down off that soap box.

What Comes First: Having Fun Making What You Like, or Choosing Something to Say?

I don't think it is wrong to tell a story that...you didn't have an intended thesis written down for. I think people like J.R.R. Tolkien and Walter Elias Disney prove that. But the thing is, what they believed got infused into their storytelling, because of course it did. It can't help it. When you want the audience to like your lead character, you make her likeable—but the traits you think are likeable are informed by something.

Snow White is innocent and pure because Walt Disney naturally considered those things beautiful and good and worth liking. He probably didn't even think to write it down and revolve everything around it: it just came out that way.

Frodo is a little scholar, and willing to soldier on with what little he can do, despite his lack of experience, because those are character traits Tolkien felt were good and likeable. Why? Because deep down, in his worldview, he believes being book-smart and doing what you can with what you have is valuable. And that just...comes out, much like his valuing of history, in the thing he creates.

Now, if they didn't know what they believed--or if they were insecure people "blown about by every wind of false doctrine" that comes their way--or if they were focused more on satisfying what the largest number of people liked--they wouldn't have been able to infuse the story with any genuine meaning, planned-out or natural.

That's what I think.

I think it's all a matter of loving what's good and true. Training your affections, so that you care most about things that are worth caring about—the things you feel most strongly about in characters will be the things you feel most strongly about in life. I love Stitch because I love redemption. Not primarily because I love sci-fi characters, the color blue, or the blend of ugly-and-cute—even though I do like those things on a more minor scale. See?

But if you've trained your affections for junk food—you feel most strongly appreciative of characters that are hot, or spout off funny one-liners, or come onscreen to cool music—then that's what will naturally come up in your own storytelling.

There's also nothing wrong with doing it the other way; saying you want to teach a certain lesson, and then coming up with characters and settings to fit that lesson. Coming at it from that direction is just as valid—as long as you put in the work, and care more about that lesson you genuinely believe in than you do what other people think.

Anyway,

To Write Your Own Main Point/Thesis/Armature/Theme

When it’s time to start writing anything down, it’s time to figure out the main point, and that’s when I...typically think about what I'd want to teach the kids I'm around, to be honest.

With my disgraced-knight love story, I go "what is it he loves about the girl, in all those vague vibe-y scenes I’ve been picturing?" And I make the connection between her virtuous character traits to what I want him, the main character, to learn.

So for example, she used to live in the palace, working for the King, but she was humble enough to give all that up and live in a no-name town to take care of her stepfather. He's disgraced and doesn't want anyone to know who he is—well, that's a pride issue, totally the opposite of how humble his love interest is. And why’s she humble? Because she’s not focused on herself. She doesn’t care about her own reputation or status. So then I just reverse engineer that: the point of the story is "Live in the King's name, not your own." Now one of the two main characters embodies that—the other has to learn it, and the story is the obstacle course he’s pushed through to get there.

I wasn't consciously thinking about making her the king's former head of staff, or him disgraced, when I first came up with the vague concept of the story, see? I just liked the "vibe" of a hopeless dude suddenly seeing a ray of light in the "vibe" of a girl from poor circumstances who seems happy regardless of them. I liked that "vibe." Then I traced what I liked about the vibe back to something that is true and worth teaching or appreciating in real life.

I’m in a job I don’t love right now, and it could make me miserable, but if I just remember “in everything you do, whether in word or in deed, do for the glory of the Lord,” then my focus isn’t on myself and I have joy and hope. And that hope can be used to point others, around me, to hope, too. So I’m not “preaching” something disingenuous; I’m living it, because this is what I believe, so no wonder it’s also leaking it’s way into my story. I just happen to be creating a pipe so that the leak flows more smoothly, which can only help, in the long run.

But I’ve done it other ways, too. Once I watched kind of from afar as a friend’s family fell apart. I felt like, from the outside, I could see where one of my friends was hurting and what they needed to accept (from the Bible) to move forward, but I wasn’t in a position to say it to my friend directly. Then I figured, “if my one friend is going through this situation, others probably are too, and this lesson from the Bible is universal anyway” so I…made up an analogy for the way their family fell apart, then came up with an ending that taught the “family” in the analogy the lesson I got from the Bible. So for that, you can see how I first came up with the main point, then built up characters and a world and a story to fit around it.

Both ways work, the chicken or the egg first. But they only work if you are committed to working hard and serving others with your story, not committed to being popular or “only making what YOU like.”

Make sense? I hope so! Thank you for the question!

[gunmetal-graces]

Not my usual posting but I need to get this out of my head.

I fucking love the original modern warfare games and I don't care what anyone says mw3 was peak storytelling.

Makarov was an amazing villain and was portrayed as a man you should be scared of. He's smart. He's cunning. He's always one step ahead. He's knows how to get what he wants and reach his end goal. He's one of, if not the soul reason why ww3 kicked off the way it did with the murdering of Joseph Allen after the attack on Zakhaev International. I loved Shepherd as a villain, I really did, but it comes down to the fact that he was also just a pawn in Makarov's game. His death was, in my opinion, one of the most satisfying moments in gaming history. He played Price and the gang, he played the government, he played Shepherd, and he played us as the audience.

Price was undoubtedly one of the people who Makarov affected the most. Captain John Price is a man who lost everything, and therefore had nothing more *to* lose, so the gloves came off, he got dirty, and he soaked his hands in Makarov's blood because he didn't give a shit anymore. There was no point in holding back.

Price got his revenge, and even if what happened to him at the end was up for debate, his story ended with him being a heroic badass, and most importantly, he was a shining example of how war can change a person. It's dirty, it's nasty, and nobody plays fair. Thats just how war works. Watching everyone he cared about die sends him over the edge and he, literally, brings Makarov down with him.

He goes from making fun of Soap's callsign when we meet him in CoD 4 to screaming it out in pain as he watches the light fade from his eyes. That, right there, is when he snapped. Soap dies warning Price about Yuri having connections with Makarov, and Price reacts by punching Yuri down the stars, holding a gun to his head, and making him explain himself. Even when Yuri tells his side of the story, we see in the following mission that Price isn't 100% with him. Yuri lied, case in point, and Price is understandably *pissed.*

In the mission titled 'Stronghold,' he says explicitly to Yuri, "Keep up or Im leaving you behind." the player absolutely can feel the tension between these two, and that is precisely what the game is trying to do by putting you into Yuri's shoes and making you feel what he's feeling. You feel horrible. You feel like you've betrayed Price. And that's the beauty of being in first person. You *are* Yuri and you feel just as responsible for his actions as he does.

Idk maybe Im reading too much into this but I fucking love this game and it holds a special place in my heart as the first CoD game I've actually sat down and played fully. Modern Warfare 2 is great, don't get me wrong, but 3 is one that I've spent the most time on, and the game that really changed how I look at war games in general.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

[captain-mj]

Hiii i wanted to ask If you want to make a Part 3 to the Alien Thing (SoapGhostRoach)

maybe Roach or Soap find out that Ghost is in his mateing phase and want to see what that does to him?

Or maybe Roach still needs more infos so He takes... a closer look at Soap and Ghost?

Yeah I can write another part for it

Part 1 Part 2

Soap had been thinking recently. On his planet, interspecies relationships (from his own planet, not others) were fine as long as they weren't serious. His planet was an anomaly in that no predator species really thrived so most species looked a lot like him with only very small differences. None had managed to get sentience at the very least. It was part of what made his new... partners so exotic he supposed. Nothing like it from where he was from.

Sex was treated differently as well. It was common to have casual sex since interbreeding was impossible. He had long since understood that with Roach, monogamy was more serious. Though harems occasionally existed throughout their history, it did not seem the natural state of them, as they paired up more often than not. There were so many rules to their courting. Dates, something called third base and also asking permission from your partner's family. It was all so strange.

Then there was also a matter of Ghost. His species also used to have harems, though they never quite left it.

The part that Soap had been entertained by was that it was not based on sex or gender. Or even species. They had been building harems of their own species for years before they started going out and exploring the universe. Soap had been surprised when Ghost had been so insistent about their rules around consent. Anyone else, he may have assumed it was naivety, but with Ghost? He believed him. To take away one's choice was an act punished by the worst thing they could due to each other.

Tear the criminal to shreds publicly.

Ghost had proudly told them he had been a part of some of those trials and Roach and Soap had almost started salivating.

Today, Soap and Roach were anxious. Something had happened. Something never before seen or heard of.

Ghost took vacation time.

It wasn't much, just three days, but it wasn't even while they were on a planet!! They were just on ship!

Roach had never seen Ghost take off work. Most people refused to take work off while the ship was moving anyway because there was usually next to nothing to do for long periods of time, so this was extra strange.

Soap hummed. "Maybe we should bring him something? He has to be sick if he's taking off, does his species have an equivalent to salad?"

Roach thought it was very fun Soap would consider salad a food for sick people, but decided he could ask more about that later. "Humans do soup. Would his version be something with raw meat? Seems the best for him."

They put their brain cells together and brought him a steak. Was it unoriginal? yes, but sick people don't need fancy stuff.

Roach went in to his chambers first, one of the few people to have a master key. He went to announce his presence, Soap close behind, but both quickly shut up.

Ghost held the pillow tight over his face. There was no way he could breath easily based on the death grip he had on it. His other hand was furiously jacking off.

It was the most vocal either had seen him. He whimpered and whined and barked just loud enough to get it through the pillow.

"You called off work to jerk off?" Soap joked, though he was now bright red.

Ghost sluggishly reacted to them. He moved the pillow. Beautiful maskless face on display. There was a layer of exhaustion to him that was abnormal. "Fuck off. I was finally fucking close." He sounded miserable, head thrown back. His hand stopped though and he rolled his wrist to get the soreness out.

Roach swallowed, feeling a tiny bit out of his depth. "You okay?"

"Mating season." Ghost hissed at them, tail thrashing angrily. "Please, neither of you are going to want to be around me for the next two days so just get lost." He finally got the idea to cover his body up.

His hand started up again and it was clear the way he was doing it, this had been going on a while and his frustration was mounting.

Roach and Soap exchanged glances. Actually making eye contact.

Soap nodded at the door and Roach locked it. He turned around to see Soap slowly joining Ghost, taking the pillow from his face. Ghost looked at him, groaning.

"Please don't torture me, Johnny." His voice was barely above a growl now. He couldn't imagine the amount of strength to simply put the words together.

Soap put his hands on Ghost's shoulder. "Don't worry, Simon. Just want to help you out."

No sooner had he gotten the words out did Ghost flip them over. He fucked between Soap's thighs, pressing them both tight into the mattress until it was hard for Soap to breath.

Ghost rutted between his thighs until he finally, finally came. He groaned with pleasure and kissed Soap breathless. "Thank you, thank you, fucking hell. I'll do anything just keep letting me do this." His hips only stuttered before continuing.

Roach hummed. "Ghost. You told me that your mating season had minimal effect on you. I would say this is not minimal effect."

Ghost groaned. "It's hitting a bit hard this year, I'll admit."

Soap purred. "Can't say I mind. I have some time I can put in. If you need to be coddled."

Ghost growled but Soap squeezed his thighs and quickly shut him up. He rested his head on Soap. "I do..."

"You do what?"

"...need to be coddled. I thought I'd be fine but please, I need help." He sounded so sad and miserable.

Roach gently ran his fingers through his hair. "You should've said something. We could've helped you." He glanced at Soap's face. "Happily."

Ghost whined. "It's improper. I'm rutting against you like a fucking..." He buried his face in Soap's neck.

Roach hummed. "Continue. Please. I have notes to..."

Ghost groaned. "Gary... please... Can you just pretend you like me? No fucking experiments."

Roach paused. He almost said something, though he wasn't sure what words he could possibly string together. Maybe an apology? He never intended to make Ghost feel that way! Though maybe he should've realized sooner.

But before he could get it out, Soap was turning Ghost of him. "Hey now. You poor thing. What gave you that idea?"

Ghost huffed and his tail lashed. "You two are quite a bit more compatible than I am..." He yanked Soap up and buried his face in his chest. "I'm not like either of you guys."

Roach quickly joined him and kissed Ghost's face all over. "Oh, love. I'm so sorry."

They quickly managed to pin Ghost down and Roach kissed him gently. "I have some vacation time. We'll all put it in. Promise. I think I have some things i need to make up to you."

Ghost relaxed and nodded, panting. "Please..."

They took turns stepping away to inform their respective bosses. Neither wanted Ghost to be alone too long. Roach pushed Ghost so he was laying down and he started to ride him, cupping Ghost's face and smiling at him. He maintained eye contact and if he thought Ghost was gone before, it was nothing compared to now. His pupils expanded until they almost took up the color.

"Course I love you, Simon. Thought you knew that." Roach ground down and Ghost growled, yanking him closer.

"You guys aren't going to be able to walk for the next week."

"I look forward to it."

[ochako-deserves-better]

Touch-starved Katsuki Bakugo & Ochako Uraraka [ambiguous]

— “how long has it been since someone hugged you?” prompt from here

After the Sports Festival, Uraraka and Bakugo had a mutual respect for one another. That respect evolved into one of Class 1-A's least expected friendships. Uraraka would periodically invite Bakugo to her room for vent sessions or study time, and while Bakugo always reacted negatively in public, she would undoubtedly hear a knock on her door after dinner hours.

This night was no different. Uraraka approached Bakugo in the common room of the dorms, casually watching as Bakugo leaned over his English homework. He was sitting on the couch, using a large book as a desk, his pencil hesitating above the prompt he was working on.

"Hey Bakugo? Have you finished the history assignment yet? Could you help me with it?" she asks, her normally cheery voice lowered to slightly above a whisper.

Bakugo's red eyes dart upward from the paperwork to meet her brown ones. His brows furrow slightly. "What's the matter? Wait 'til the last second?"

Uraraka smiles sheepishly at her friend, "something like that."

"Pah," Bakugo rolls his eyes. "Fine. Lemme finish this first and then I'll-" he stopped, glancing around the common area. They were, for the most part, alone. Jirou is sitting on the other end of the room, but she seems to be distracted, headphones seated completely over her ears. Judging by the way her head is bobbing as she works, she can't hear them. "Meet you in the usual spot?"

Uraraka smiles, "Sure thing!" she flashes him a thumbs-up. "Thanks Bakugo!" She ignores his muttered 'whatever' and turns on her heel, heading back to 4th floor to tidy her room for his visit.

He must have been nearly finished with the assignment, because the knock on her door echoes out about 20 minutes later. Ochako slides the last book back on the bookshelf before stepping over to open the door, ushering the blonde inside.

Bakugo shuffles in quickly, waiting for the door to shut behind him before speaking. "So how far did you make it on the assignment? Did you--"

"What's going on with you lately?" Uraraka interrupts him, one hand on her slightly popped hip.

"What the hell are you talking about? I'm fi--"

"Don't you 'I'm fine' me Bakugo Katsuki." At the sound of his given name, Bakugo visibly flinches. "You were doing your homework in the common room. You always do your work in your room, never the common room. But you didn't want to be alone, right? So? What's going on?"

Bakugo growls, but his shoulders drop. "You're as bad as the damn nerd, you know that?"

Uraraka pursed her lips slightly. She sat on her bed, patting the spot next to her on the comforter for him to join her. She still had the school issued bedding--the matcha green covers both clashing with and somehow matching the girl perfectly. Bakugo huffs a sigh before sinking himself onto the mattress, just far enough away that his legs don't touch hers when he relaxes. "Is that what this is about? Are you stressing about Deku again?"

Bakugo turns his head to glare at her. "Not every thought I have is about that dumbass, you know." He sighs, realizing his mistake. "You're already done with that history homework."

"Not important. Bakugo, please. You can tell me. I won't tell anyone, not even Deku." She places a hand on his shoulder.

Bakugo's eyes widen, his shoulder tensing under her touch. He doesn't shake her off, but it's clear he's uncomfortable. Uraraka quickly removes her hand. "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. But--" she hesitates before doubling down, a determined look steeling her gaze. "Do you need a hug?"

"What?!" Bakugo hisses, leaping away from her and off her bed. His feet slam onto the floor, making them both freeze. Bakugo looks down as though he is staring through the floor before he mumbles "She's still in the common room. It's fine."

"I'm serious Bakugo. I feel like you're not okay. And we learned in class that hugs actually can reduce stress. Sooo," she stretches out the word as she gets up from her bed. She takes a sliding step toward him. " Let me help you."

"I don't need a fucking hug, Pink Cheeks."

She raises a brow, "I disagree. How long has it been since someone hugged you?"

His scowl falters. In this moment, his face loses its usual anger. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does. You deserve affection, Bakugo." She takes another step.

"Stop," he warns.

"Do you actually want me to?" She counters.

He hesitates again. "...I don't care." Uraraka watches as his face slowly changes color. Shy Bakugo is unbelievably adorable, but saying that in this moment would mean certain death.

She reaches out her hands, pink fingertips facing upward. "Can I?"

"Whatever," he says. Uraraka knows the boy well enough to know that that's the closest thing she will ever get to a 'yes.' She beams at him and closes the gap between them.

Uraraka slips her arms under Bakugo's, her hands resting firmly on his shoulder blades. She tucks her head under Bakugo's chin, nestling her face into his chest. The hug is awkward, Bakugo's steel muscles refusing to budge as the boy tenses under his friend's grip. His heart audibly thuds against his ribcage, the drumbeat loud in Uraraka's ear "You can hug me back, you know," she teases. "You know how to hug, right?"

"Shut the fuck up. I know how to hug, asshole."

"Could've fooled me," she counters. He grumbles, but Uraraka feels his arms start to move. Starts to feel him pull her closer. She smiles against his chest as his shoulders relax. "This is nice." She says after a few seconds. "I'm sorry I doubted your hugging skills," she joked. Bakugo doesn't say anything. Uraraka waits a bit, but still, the normally explosive teen is silent. "...Bakugo?" She tries to lean back to look at him, but his grip on her holds firm. "Bakugo," she tries again. "What is it?"

"Nothing," he mumbles. His voice is tight. His vicegrip only tightens, causing Uraraka to gasp in surprise.

"I can't breathe," Uraraka manages, slapping his shoulders with her hands. She feels his grip loosen abruptly, the muscles in his chest once again a steel wall of anxiety. She tightens her grip before he can push her off. "No no it's okay! The angle was just wrong, that's all! You don't have to let go," she rambles.

"Let go," he orders. Uraraka flinches at the razor's edge in his voice. She obeys, untangling her arms from him and stepping back.

She sheepishly looks up at him through her bangs. He refuses to make eye contact; instead his crimson gaze burns a hole in the wall of her room. His ears are equally radiant, the fiery blush of shame burning bright. "Sorry," she whispers.

"It's late," Bakugo states, turning on his heel to face the door. The air is thick. Uraraka's heart has turned to lead, dropping through her ribcage to settle into her stomach. She tried to make him feel better, but if he leaves now, he'll only be worse off. She doesn't know why, but Bakugo absolutely can not be alone right now. "Night-"

Uraraka's hand darts out, wrapping securely around his wrist (with her pinky lifted to avoid floating him by accident). "You didn't hurt me," she tries.

"Okay."

"I'm not afraid you'll hurt me."

He turns his head to the side, not quite able to see her behind him. "Okay?" he restates.

"Stay?"

Part 2 [platonic]: here! Part 2 [romantic]: here!