#this damn thing fought me the whole time it was being written

[complete-in-ix]

Parallel Lines, Intersecting

Rated: T Warning(s):

Description: After mistaking someone else for his dear friend Byounggon one Pride evening, Yonghee makes it his mission to ensure that his new friend's first Pride goes well. As the night goes on, he never would have thought that their friend groups would intersect so deeply—how could he have known that Daehyeon's first love is a classmate of his boyfriend?

(Read on Ao3)

Yonghee checks his phone for the nth time this morning, having already been waiting for half an hour. Where could Byounggon be? His last message was from half an hour ago, just a plain “Blue hair, you can’t miss me”. There’s just one problem…

    “Hyung, when you go to pride, everyone is going to have wild hair colours!” he types into the message bar, though he doesn’t hit send. Byounggon always gets a little nervous around crowds, that homebody. Yonghee had gotten here early anyway, he could afford some patience. He sighs and runs his hair through his freshly dyed purple hair, done with Hyunsuk’s help early in the morning today. Everyone will be so excited to see him, especially Jinyoung! Now, if only they could get here… He scans the crowd again, slower this time.

There, across the street, Yonghee finally spots him. Bright blue hair, plump, pouty lips, and a loose hoodie and sweatpants combo that should be entirely too hot for a Pride parade. Yonghee’s sprinting over before he can really think, too excited to start his day with his friends. 

“Gonie-hyung!”

A little late, the person who is not Lee Byounggon turns around, and he only has time to choke out a startled yelp before Yonghee bowls him over. They go down quickly, and Yonghee can barely move his hands to protect the other man’s head before they’re hitting the ground.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else, are you okay?” Yonghee groans, gingerly untangling himself from this handsome stranger’s body. 

“Yeah, m’just winded… Jeez, you’re strong,” the stranger wheezes. “Didn’t think my first Pride would already get this wild.” The last part is under his breath, meant only for himself, but Yonghee hears it anyway.

“It’s your first Pride?! Oh my god, I’m so sorry, that was—” Yonghee starts to ramble, but the stranger cuts him off before he can finish his apology.

“It’s fine, really! Honestly, this will just make it even more memorable,” he says with a shrug. “I hope you find who you’re looking for. Maybe he deserves to get knocked to the ground?” Yonghee takes a second to scream out his embarrassment into his hands before he can face this stranger again, something he smiles at as Yonghee helps him up. Well, at least someone’s having a decent time.

“He should be here soon, I got here early.” Still unable to meet this stranger’s eyes, Yonghee focuses on brushing himself off. While he does so, he can’t help but notice the other man’s lack of supplies—not even a water bottle. As much as he’d like to vanish off the face of the earth, Yonghee still has to ask. “Are you here with anyone?”

“Uhh, not really. I’m a bit of a loner, so I’m totally lost. I can find my way though,” the man says with a shrug. He seems to be about Yonghee’s age, maybe a little older, but he still worries. He had once been that person, totally lost and unsure of the new people around him, still scared to be rejected even though he was surrounded by kindred spirits. He had been lucky to encounter his friends—and current boyfriend—right around then, and since then had sworn to never let anyone else go through that.

“Are you sure? My friends and I are going to be around all day today, why don’t you stick with us? They won’t mind!” Yonghee gives a reassuring smile when he hesitates, clearly torn on whether or not to accept. “I totally get it if you don’t want to, you don’t have to!”

“Uh, sure, I’ll hang with you guys,” he says after a moment. “Thanks, uhhh…”

“Yonghee. Kim Yonghee. It’s nice to meet you, even if it was uh… Like this.” Yonghee extends a hand to the other man, though he can’t make eye contact in his returning embarrassment.     “It’s totally fine, please don’t worry about it! I'm Jang Daehyeon." Daehyeon shakes Yonghee's hand with a shy smile. "Oh, before I forget, how old are you? I’m twenty-five, I was born in ‘97.” 

“Ah, I still feel bad…" Yonghee mutters under his breath, for his own ears only. "I’m twenty-two, born in 2000, so you’re my hyung. Unless you’d prefer to be called something else?” His heart starts to clench in apprehension. Even in a setting like this, people still tend to get more than a little weird towards him about this question. 

“No, hyung is fine. I haven’t really explored my, uh, gender much, but so far, I’m just a bi man." Daehyeon's shrug is nonchalant, but his gaze is nervous when he makes eye contact with Yonghee again. "I recognize that flag on your cheek, and you called me “hyung”, so…” he trails off, obviously unsure of how to finish that sentence. Yonghee doesn't blame him, he hasn't been on T for long, but still passes so well without it that it would be hard for a stranger to tell which way he's going.     “Yep, I’m a man! I just haven’t been one for as long as you have.” Partly because of their age and partly because Yonghee hadn't figured out the source of that constant off feeling about himself until he was in tenth grade, though he decides against telling Daehyeon that. 

“Still, it doesn't make you any less of one. Was—was that okay to say? I'm really sorry, I get the basics but I'm still new to this, I know I'm out of the loop and it's—” Daehyeon rambles on, completely oblivious to Yonghee's beaming. It's adorable to see, but Yonghee can tell he's actually stressed out, so he takes pity on him. 

"It's okay, hyung, don't worry! I'm actually really happy to hear that, it's really refreshing compared to some of the other things I have to put up with…" His smile drops ever so slightly at the sour memories, but quickly pushes them away. No need to be reminded of that when he's out to be himself with his best friends and have a good time. 

Daehyeon's eyebrows furrow in concern, but before he can say anything, a pair of strong arms wrap around Yonghee's waist and pull him against a broad, toned chest. 

“Making new friends, Yonghee?” 

“Jinyoung!” Yonghee squeals. All his brooding thoughts fly from his brain as soon as he registers the presence of his beloved boyfriend. Overcome with affection, he bumps his head against Jinyoung’s—much like a cat—in lieu of a “proper” greeting. “I did make a friend, he’s hanging out with us today!” There’s a beat of silence that Yonghee hadn’t expected, and he glances back at Daehyeon to see him and Jinyoung staring at each other with similar searching expressions.

“... Did you go to Produce High?” Daehyeon finally asks. The silence finally breaks, but the tension only mounts higher. It’s no secret that Jinyoung was popular in high school, but not all of it was positive. Yonghee hadn’t gone to the same school, so he has no idea what could have been between Daehyeon and Jinyoung.

“Yeah, I did. Do we know each other? I’m Bae Jinyoung.” Jinyoung’s voice sounds casual enough, but Yonghee can feel the way he tenses against him. Still, if Jinyoung doesn't recognize Daehyeon, there can’t be any bad blood between them, right?

“We do! It’s Jang Daehyeon, I was a few grades above you! Wow, I hardly recognize you, you were so shy back then!” Daehyeon exclaims, his face lighting up in recognition.

“Yeah, well, I guess I just learned how to be confident in who I am." Despite his words, Jinyoung still half-hides behind Yonghee, clutching him a little tighter like a teddy bear. "It's nice to see you again, hyung." 

“Likewise.”

Before the silence can get awkward, three voices sound from not far off, rapidly growing closer. 

“Hyung!!! Wait up!!!”

“Yongheeeeeeeee!”

“Guys, wait, I can’t run that fast!”

Yonghee turns around the best he can with Jinyoung still clinging to him to see the rest of their friend group sprinting over—one lagging behind the other two by a considerable amount.

“Sorry we’re late, Hyunsuk couldn’t decide on an outfit and parking was a nightmare,” Seunghun says, somehow not out of breath despite the obvious distance he’d just crossed at a dead sprint. 

“We’re here though! Let’s get started!” Hyunsuk chirps, excitedly bouncing on his feet as if he were still a child and not a whole six foot man.

“Just hold on a bit, would you?!” Byounggon wheezes. He doubles over as soon as he stumbles to where the rest of them are standing, hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath. “You guys are way too fast for me…” 

Daehyeon shoots Yonghee a pointed glance upon seeing Byounggon and his bright blue hair, which matches his to the exact shade. Yonghee flushes and averts his gaze. 

“I’m sorry, I just got excited!” Yonghee protests.

“If he wasn’t early, I wouldn’t have run into an old friend, anyway,” Jinyoung adds. Yonghee internally sighs in relief, having been drawing a total blank on how to introduce Daehyeon to his friends.

It turns out that there isn’t much introduction needed in the end, saving everyone from any awkwardness. Daehyeon just happens to be good friends with a classmate of Byounggon and Seunghun’s, Seokhwa, who in turn is also dating Hyunsuk’s boyfriend, Junseo. Daehyeon nearly has a heart attack upon learning this, until Hyunsuk clarifies that Junseo is polyamorous, and he’s fully aware of the other man. Along with him, Daehyeon also knows someone named Yoo Yongha. The name doesn’t ring a bell for Yonghee, but Jinyoung recognizes him as the person who has been in love with another classmate of his—the straightest man in Produce High, he had been called—for as long as anyone could remember. Yonghee doesn’t believe in any gods, but he still prays for Yongha. 

In all the excitement of introducing Daehyeon to his friends, Yonghee finds himself slightly pushed aside. Truth be told, he’s more relieved than hurt, considering how the crowds around him were already overstimulating to begin with, and he really didn’t want to run out of energy keeping his silent promise to Daehyeon. He half-hides behind Jinyoung as they start walking in no particular direction, stimming as subtly as he can. He can feel Daehyeon’s eyes on him at a couple points, but pays it no mind. He’ll explain later, if he asks.

“Hold on, is that—”

“No. No way. Yongha!”

Seunghun and Jinyoung’s shouts snap Yonghee out of his thoughts. Following their shouts, he spots a fucking gorgeous punk decked out in spikes, studded leather, and a skirt headed their way. Snake bites flash in their ear-to-ear grin, and as they get closer, Yonghee spots the nonbinary flag painted on their cheek and a he/they pin on their jacket. The man beside them isn’t dressed nearly as flashily as the person Yonghee assumes to be Yongha, but his handsome, bunny-like face and the way his MISBHV shirt defines his chest and arms still draws just as much attention as his company. 

“Daehyeon-hyung! You’ll never believe how this happened!” Yongha gushes, holding up their hand—which is entwined with the man next to him.

“Kim Yohan, at Pride with someone who isn’t a woman? The world must be ending!” Jinyoung crows at the same time. 

“Well, it’s a bit of a long story…” Yohan says, flustered. 

“We’ll be here for a while, we don’t mind listening!” Hyunsuk chirps. His tone is light, but Yonghee would recognize that protective gleam in his—and the rest of his friends’—eyes anywhere. 

“Really? Perfect! We’ll tell you while we head to Twilight!” Yongha chirps, oblivious to the searching glares being directed at their boyfriend. Twilight… The name of that club brings back memories. Or rather, the lack of them… Last time Yonghee went there, he woke up draped across Hyunsuk’s couch with a stranger looking for Junseo. Now that Yonghee thinks of it, that might have been Junseo’s other boyfriend. Judging by the look on Daehyeon’s face, he must have had a similar experience.

“You’re taking him to Twilight on the first night of Pride? Oh Yohan, I hope you know what you’re getting into…” Daehyeon mutters under his breath.

“Of course I do, Twilight is really fun! One of my friends performs there every other week, I go whenever I can to hype him up. I think he’s doing a special today, actually,” Yohan says with a shrug, just as oblivious as Yongha to the shock of Yonghee and his friends. Only Jinyoung shows no sign of surprise, frantically tapping at his phone before showing it to Yohan.

“Does this happen to be him?” 

“You know Donghan-hyung too?!” Yohan exclaims, his eyes lighting up in recognition. Yonghee and Daehyeon share an incredulous look. Just how much do their friend groups overlap?! Yonghee finds himself swept up in yet another web of overlapping conversations, all going entirely too quickly for him to keep up with. The only person who shares his silence is Daehyeon, though unlike Yonghee who simply prefers not to talk at the moment, Daehyeon seems like something is bothering him. He’s somewhat curled into himself, a faraway look in his eyes. 

“You okay, hyung?” Yonghee asks, slowing down just a little so they fall into step together. “If Twilight would be too much, we can go somewhere else.” Daehyeon shakes his head.

“It’s fine, I like it there. I just…” Daehyeon drops his gaze to the table. “Do I still belong here? I mean, the rest of you already had yourselves figured out a long time ago, but I didn’t really embrace myself until a couple months ago, so I’m totally lost on how everything… Works? I-I don’t know, I don’t think I’m making any sense.” 

Yonghee has to take a moment to plan his response. Daehyeon’s worries match his former ones almost exactly, so how would he like to be assured? 

“What are you talking about? Of course you belong here,” Yonghee assures. “I didn’t even discover myself until like, six years ago. Most people like me know who they are since childhood, so I’m really late by comparison. Even then, there’s no such thing as “late” when it comes to accepting yourself.” 

“I know, I just… It took me so long to get here, even after I knew who I was and accepted myself.” Daehyeon shrugs. “I guess I wanted to focus on my “actual” life first, before throwing myself into being all loud and proud like everyone else.” He cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth. “Not that being loud and proud was a bad thing, I just… I don’t know. I guess I thought I wasn’t allowed to do that?” 

Yonghee hums in understanding. “It’s fine, I see where you’re coming from. Still, that doesn’t make you any less deserving of a place here than us. Would you treat Yohan the way you’re treating yourself right now?”

“No, I would never!” Daehyeon exclaims. He continues in a lower voice. “Especially not now that I see how happy he makes Yongha. He’s a good person, I wouldn’t want to exclude him.”

“So why do you think you deserve it?” 

For the first time tonight, Yonghee locks eyes with Daehyeon to prove his point. 

“I… I don’t know. I guess I’m just a little hard on myself, or something…” Daehyeon meekly trails off, a slight blush dusting his cheeks. Cute. 

“That’s understandable. Still, keep that in mind the next time you start thinking that you don’t deserve to be here, because you do!” Yonghee chirps, 

“... Thanks, Yonghee. It really means a lot.”

A cacophony of squeals from Yonghee’s friends ahead of them draws their attention back to the group.

“You’re kidding! You just kissed them just like that?!” Hyunsuk exclaims.

“What else could I have done? It’s Yongha! ” Yohan fires back.

“Hold on, I think we missed a few chapters. How did you two get to that point?” Daehyeon asks, quickening his pace to catch up with the rest. Yonghee hangs back a little, content to just listen from the sidelines while holding Jinyoung’s hand. They’ve reached the line to get into Twilight by now, and thankfully they’re early enough that it isn't too long yet.

“So, as you know I was crushing on him like, forever, right?” Yongha asks. Daehyeon nods, and they continue. “Turns out that as soon as I came out, he started questioning stuff about himself—which is so unbelievable, since I didn’t even know he knew I existed?”

“How could I not know you existed?” Yohan whines, “You were like, the hottest person I had ever seen!”

“Still! Anyway, so we started talking because we have mutual friends, and I was going literally crazy because it’s him , you know?” Yongha gushes. Truth be told, Yonghee has no idea what he’s supposed to know here, but everyone else seems to understand just fine, so he keeps listening.

“I wanted to know more about you! And everything else, since being straight can really shield you from a lot of different perspectives…” Yohan trails off with a nervous laugh.

“Well, that’s fine, I really appreciate that you wanted to learn.” Yongha presses a kiss to Yohan’s cheek, bringing a pretty pink blush to his cheeks. “I think the real key was when I did your makeup before the rave we went to, though.”

Yohan flushes even deeper at Yongha’s words.

“Yeah… By then I was super attracted to them, but also a little confused? I mean, they’re not a man, so it’s not like I was gay ,—not that anything’s wrong with that—but that didn’t make me straight either, so I was just there letting them sit on my lap doing my makeup—”

“You were on his lap?! ” Daehyeon exclaims.

“Anywhere else would have been too far away! Can you blame me for wanting to be close to my crush!” Yongha whines defensively. “Besides, he already knew I liked him by then…” they mutter under their breath.

“Y-Yeah, that too. Anyway, I was trying not to have a crisis since I didn’t want to break their heart, and while this is happening, our friend is like, egging me to just give in and kiss them, which… I mean, yeah both of us wanted me to do it, I just didn’t want to do it without knowing exactly what was going on with us, if that makes sense?” Yongha nods in agreement to Yohan’s words, leaning into his side much like Yonghee is leaning against Jinyoung’s. Yonghee shares a knowing glance with them, and they flash him a smile before continuing Yohan’s train of thought. 

“That’s when I figured he didn’t know that anyone could be attracted to me regardless of sexuality, since…” Yongha gestures to themself and shrugs. “As soon as I told him, he just went in, and now here we are!”

Yonghee’s heart warms at the sight of Daehyeon’s accepting smile.

“I’m really glad you two are happy together, Yongha. I can tell you treat each other well.” Perhaps Yonghee is reading too far into things, but does Daehyeon sound… Bitter? It’s subtle under his genuine happiness for the couple, so perhaps Yonghee could be imagining it. Still, he makes a note to check in on that once they get in.

The rest of the line breezes by within a few minutes, and they’re met with booming music as soon as they enter. Yonghee flinches a little at the sudden spike in volume, but he’s over it just as fast.

“Baby I see why the way I walk, you tryna find something to say~” A sultry voice rings out from the stage ahead of them.

“Oh. My. God.” Daehyeon whimpers from next to Yonghee.

“What, what?” Yonghee asks, craning his neck to see the latest performer. Yohan had mentioned an old friend of his would be performing tonight, and Jinyoung had also recognized him, but his name escapes Yonghee at the moment. Could this be him?

“There’s no way that’s Kim Donghan,” Daehyeon wheezes, blindly grabbing at Yonghee’s shoulder for support. That’s the name!

“Why are you saying it like it’s a bad thing?” Yonghee asks. Then again, Daehyeon could just be in shock and Yonghee could have misread. It’s hard to tell, sometimes.

“I mean, it’s not, but it kind of is. He was my bi awakening!” Daehyeon hisses. The crowd parts a little in front of Yonghee, leaving him a perfect view of the leather-clad man onstage throwing a wink in his and Daehyeon’s direction. 

“Yonghee.”

“Yes, hyung?”

“I’m going to fucking die.”

As if to seal Daehyeon’s doom, Donghan starts strutting over, a sensual line about sugar canes and chains playing on his lips. Yonghee finds himself getting accosted from both sides; Daehyon locking his left arm in a vice grip and Jinyoung repeatedly smacking his right in excitement.

“Save me, Yonghee!” Daehyeon whimpers.

“I’m going to be honest, I don’t know if there’s much I can do!” Yonghee is only half aware of the words leaving his mouth, dazed by the sheer intensity of Donghan’s gaze. He looks at his audience like he’s about to fucking eat them, something that Yonghee never thought he would be so into. Then again, Jinyoung looks at him the same way, when… 

He’s jolted out of his thoughts by Daehyeon bolting off to the bar. 

“Uh—Daehyeon and I will get our first round of drinks first! You guys go ahead and get good seats for us!” Yonghee blusters, barely staying long enough to process Jinyoung’s nod before he’s pushing through the crowd to get to Daehyeon. 

"Hyung, wait up!" Yonghee calls over the music. He all but throws himself into the chair next to Daehyeon who's huddled at the far edge of the bar, staring down at it as if it were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. "Are you okay?"

"No!" Daehyeon squeaks. "How am I supposed to face the only man I've loved since middle school after I haven't seen him in years and he's like this now?! Did he recognize me? I really hope he didn't recognize me, because if he did then he'll know it took me this long when he's always been like this and I never have and—"

"Whoa, hold on, breathe, breathe!" Yonghee cuts in as Daehyeon starts running out of air. 

He had only managed to pick up about half of Daehyeon’s rambling, but from that, he had picked up most of the same concerns that he once had when he and Jinyoung had first reunited after high school. Yonghee faintly wonders if Daehyeon is himself from another timeline. The bartender slides a glass of water towards them, which Yonghee accepts on Daehyeon’s behalf. 

“Drink up and run that by me again, hyung,” Yonghee murmurs, “slowly this time.”

Daehyeon downs half the glass in a single go, nearly choking on it in the process. 

“So, we went to high school together,” Daehyeon groans. “We weren’t super close, but some of our friends knew each other and we would always be right on the edge of being friends, but not really, if that makes sense?”

"Okay, so you know him,” Yonghee says with a nod. “Judging by how he looked at us, he remembers you, right?" he asks.

"Yeah, and I was really stupid back in middle school and rejected him when he asked me out!" Daehyeon all but wails. "What is he going to think of me showing up like this now?!"

Yonghee blinks down at Daehyeon for a couple moments. It's obvious that a blunt reply won't help this situation at all, but he really has no other idea how to reply. 

"... If it happened in middle school, I highly doubt he remembers that, hyung. Even then, feelings can still change after time!" 

"I rejected him because I said I was straight , Yonghee!” Daehyeon wails. “What is he going to think now that I'm here? What if he thinks I'm just one of those shitty guys who likes to experiment and throw people away?"

"Well, are you?"

"No! He’s the only one I’ve had on my mind!"

“So what’s the problem?!” Yonghee exclaims, incredulous. “The only problem I can think about right now is that he might be taken, which. Well, yeah, okay, that’s a problem, but it wouldn’t be your fault like you’re making it out to be, right?”

Daehyeon muffles his sigh into his glass before chugging the rest. He doesn’t look back up at Yonghee when he sets it down again, staring down into the ice.

“It could be. From what I heard after I graduated, he really liked me. I already broke his heart once, I don’t want it to have been repaired only for me to show up and break it again. That’s why I was a little hesitant to come here when Yohan mentioned him, but honestly…” Yonghee leans in a little closer to hear him better over the music. “I also just really wanted to see him again.”

Yonghee’s heart aches on Daehyeon’s behalf. He remembers exactly how that had felt like.

“I don’t think you’ll believe me, but I was the same, sort of,” he starts, sliding his stool closer so he won’t have to shout. “I’ve loved Jinyoung since middle school, when I was a little girl and he was just coming to terms with being gay. I never told him I liked him back then, partly since I knew it wouldn’t work out and partly because we both moved schools before I had the chance. I was devastated, obviously, but in the time we were apart, I was able to really discover myself properly. He did, too. By the time we got to meet again, he had actually forgotten me. Made things slightly awkward because I was thinking of him through everything, but you know what? That had just made things better for us in the end.” 

Daehyeon gapes at him. “How?!”

Yonghee can’t help but smile at the memory, lightly tracing his fingers along the patterns of the bartop. “If we had stayed in touch with each other between middle school and college, we both would have had more trouble figuring ourselves out. Back in middle school, I was the only girl Jinyoung would have ever considered marrying on the playground, and Jinyoung used to be the kind of boy that I wanted to be as well as just…” Yonghee shrugs. “Wanted in general, I guess. We still would have turned out fine in the end, but we also would have confused each other. Maybe you two have the same thing going on.”

Daehyeon sighs. “I wish it could be that easy. I mean, I’m sure you and Jinyoung didn’t have it easy, but with the way you say it, I just…” He absently swirls his half-melted ice around his glass. “I don’t know. He’s him, and I’m me. Even if he still sees it, I don’t know what he sees in me.”

“Let’s find out, then!” Yonghee chirps. Just then, his phone vibrates with two messages from Jinyoung and one from Yohan. The first from Jinyoung is a list of everything the group wants to drink, and the second is a “You’ve been there for a while. Is everything okay?” that warms his heart. Yohan’s message simply reads “Donghan-hyung’s single and looking for Daehyeon-hyung lol I think he’s going to have a heart attack.”

“Judging by the look on your face, you already have, haven’t you?” Daehyeon asks, an edge of defeat in his tone. Yonghee meets his somber face with a grin.

“Yep! And this will be good!”

A squabble over who pays for the first round and another glass of water for Daehyeon later, Yonghee and Daehyeon finally arrive at their friend’s table with the drinks.

“You’re just in time!” Yohan says to Daehyeon. “Donghan-hyung’s set is almost done!”

“I don’t think I can do this…” Daehyeon mutters under his breath.

“Yes you can! We’ll help you!” Yonghee nudges Jinyoung as he speaks, glancing first at Daehyeon, then at Donghan who’s still onstage. Jinyoung nods in understanding, and leans over to whisper something to Yohan.

“Yohan explained everything while you were gone, are we finally getting you and Donghan-hyung together?” Yongha asks Daehyeon, who freezes like a deer in the headlights.

“Yep!” Yonghee says before Daehyeon can finish flailing for an answer. Right on time, Donghan’s last song ends with a flourish and thunderous cheers from nearly the entire club—however none are as loud as their table. Donghan throws another wink their way and immediately starts making his way over, much to Daehyeon’s dismay.

“Guys, you said you’d help, what do I do, he’s coming this way!” Daehyeon whimpers, half-hiding behind Yonghee. “I don’t want to mess this up!”

“You won’t, just be yourself!” Yongha assures.

“Love conquers all, doesn’t it?” Hyunsuk adds.

“Donghanie-hyung! Look who came to see you!” Yohan calls as soon as Donghan gets close enough. Before Daehyeon can hide, Jinyoung and Seunghun all but drag him up in front of Donghan.

“Uh. Hi, Donghan… It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Daehyeon stammers. In an instant, Donghan’s icy, wolfish eyes squish up with the force of his grin—a stark contrast to the man who was onstage not even a minute ago.

“Daehyeon-hyung! You have no idea how much I’ve missed you!” Donghan gushes, pulling Daehyeon into a hug. “Can we talk? Just the two of us?” he asks as he pulls back. There’s a certain softness behind his tone when he speaks now, one meant only for Daehyeon to hear.

“What, and leave us all behind? That’s mean, hyung, I’ve missed you too!” Jinyoung whines, though his smile shows he means none of it.

“Don’t worry, you can still get a piece of me when I’m done with him!” Donghan says with a teasing grin. Even in the dim club lights, Yonghee can still see Daehyeon flushing red all the way down his neck as he and Donghan head off. He only gives one look back at Yonghee on his way, to which Yonghee flashes him an encouraging thumbs up. The last thing the group see of them before they disappear backstage is Daehyeon reaching out to take Donghan’s hand, and the entire table bursts into cheers.

“Finally!” Jinyoung crows. “What did you tell him? It must have been good to finally get him out of his shell.” 

Yonghee shrugs. “He was just like how I used to be before I met you. I figured he could use some of the advice I learned from everyone else. I just hope it worked.”

The next morning, Yonghee wakes up on an unfamiliar couch, wrapped up in Jinyoung’s arms, to a flurry of half-coherent “thank you” messages from Daehyeon, whose number he doesn’t recall saving. 

“Well. Looks like it did.”

[bbieangel]

Sticky

Joel Miller x F!Reader (18+)

mdni please

You and Joel find another way to make the summer heat more bearable.

tags: smut (duh), food play (popsicle), anal play, creampie, unprotected p in v (do not! do this! pls!), kind of? oral (f receiving), praising, dirty talk (joel doesn't know how to shut up and we love him for that), mentions of gagging (once), reader is abled, afab reader. joel is 20 years older. idk if I forgot anything else.

word count: 9.2k

a/n: this is just another level –for me, at least– of things I wouldn't normally write. please take my phone away? thanks. I think I was possessed when I came up with this. anyways! hope you enjoy.

this was inspired by If You Like Piña Coladas by @gutsby ! it was amazingly written, I loved it and after reading it I came up with this idea. <3

as always, please enjoy and lmk what you think! reblogs, likes and comments are always deeply appreciated 🫶🏻

It all started when you were out on patrol, scavenging and rummaging through abandoned places, looking for supplies to take back to Jackson.

"Anything, really." Maria told you, as the warmer weather was approaching and you needed anything that would help keep people cool. Especially the elders, kids and babies.

Could a horse carry a whole fan back to Jackson? Not possibly. So Joel got to disassemble it while you took the opportunity to look through every drawer, cabinet and box.

"Joel, look!" You said, holding up some molds. They were the kind that you would fill up with juice and fruit, then put the sticks in them to make a popsicle. Maybe it wouldn't keep you cool, but it was a nice distraction.

Joel chuckled as he saw them. He remembered making those with Sarah every summer in a desperate attempt to keep his daughter in a somehow manageable mood, as she hated the heat and made her irritable. You could see the shimmer in his eyes, the kind that showed up every time he thought of his daughter. He has recently started to open up about her, and you didn't really push him to do it: just let him.

"We should keep those." He replied. "Maybe try making some back at home."

The idea sounded fantastic, and there were more molds as you kept scavenging. Maybe you could even make them and offer them at the town hall for people to feast on while they fought the intense rays of sun.

Once back home, you got to work. Joel helped by squeezing the oranges as well as cutting up strawberries and apples, the kitchen ending up a fruity mess. But you didn't mind, if anything, it made your heart flutter at the sight. It was domestic, tender, to be cooking together. Making a snack to make the summer heat a little more bearable for the both of you.

You set them inside the fridge and honestly, forgot about them until two days later until Joel brought them up. The two of you were plopped on the couch, fanning yourself with magazines as you tried to pay attention to the TV with that old DVD player plugged into it, playing a movie Joel had made you watch more times that you could count on.

You were distracted, and you knew it. And he would be a liar if he said he wasn't. Your cause of distraction? The way Joel's cheeks were slightly flushed, sweat trickling down his tanned neck, how the popsicle would drip down his veiny hands. How he would lick it, God, why couldn't he lick you instead? And he was suffering from the same twisted thoughts. The way your lips would wrap around the popsicle.. he was almost sure you were doing it on purpose. Pushing it inside your mouth and pulling it out with a plop! He could think of the times you'd done that with his cock before, the image being burned inside his eyelids.

He couldn't do it anymore. Couldn't pretend he wasn't affected by you.

"It take you that long to finish that thing?" He spoke up, his voice slightly hoarse from hiding his desire for too. damn. long.

"What do you mean?"

You asked as you bit into it and chewed a smile piece of the ice thing, then swallowed it. His eyes followed the movement of your throat and oh, you knew.

He wanted to erase that shit-eating grin off your face with the tip of his cock, smearing his precum all over your—

"You know what I mean. You're doing it on purpose."

"And you aren't?" You leaned forward, and that made him feel like he'd been caught red-handed. Truth was that, yes, he had been slurping at the thing like he would swallow your juices whenever he found himself on his favorite place on earth: between your legs.

"What if I am?"

"What if I am too?"

The silence between you grew thick, like a string that was taunt with too much tension. Until he snapped it, grabbing the popsicle and shoving it into your mouth. You tried to protest by whining his name.

"Shut up." He spoke as he quickly worked to take off your shorts. He pushed them down and immediately placed his head between your legs, making you open your mouth so much that the popsicle almost fell. He caught it and put it back into your mouth.

"Keep suckin' it, sweetheart. Don't stop 'til I tell ya so."

And you obliged, a small smile on your face as you loved experimenting new things with your man. He licked a long stripe over your damp underwear, making you close your legs around his head. He was quick to separate them and nuzzle his nose against the cotton of it, inhaling your scent. You would be embarrassed if he hadn't done it like a hundred times before. It was nothing new.

"Joel.." You whined, almost pleaded as you gripped his hair. You kept eating the popsicle, licking and slurping at it to provoke him even more. And did he notice.

He looked up at you, eyes dark from his pupils occupying almost his whole irises. He took a finger and pushed at your entrance, penetrating you with your underwear.

"You take what I give you." He reminded you. Your mouth felt open at the sudden contact, aching to be filled. Some of the juice spilled down your chin and onto your chest, and he looked at it like it was the most attractive, sexy thing he'd ever seen. He pumped his fingers a couple of times before his patience broke.

"Damn it, darlin'. I swear I'm tryin' to take my time but today just won't be the case." He spoke, before pushing down his own clothes and your underwear flew God knows where.

He sat you on his lap, pressing you down against the evidence of the effect you had on him. Gently, never being rough, pushed your legs open with his knees and held you like that.

"Oh, look at 'er.. Already cryin' for me, baby?"

He teased, and brought two of his fingers at your slick. You squirmed on his lap, breathing ragged as you tried to find something to hold onto. But he didn't let you.

Instead, with those two fingers, he parted your lips open and looked down at your glistening cunt. It was gaping, closing around air as if it was already preparing itself for the stretch that Joel's length would be.

But.. he didn't do it. Not yet. He pulled the popsicle out of your mouth and pressed it against your hole. Your eyes widened and you gasped for air at the cold sensation, telling him that he couldn't do that, that it was wrong, that—

"Beggin' to be filled, isn't she?" He murmured, hot breath against your ear. He didn't really care about you trying to be cautious, he knew that deep down you didn't care about that either. You wanted to be filled, and he was a man that took your wishes seriously. He placed the popsicle in front of you so you could see it before he slowly trusted it inside of you. You cried out and he hushed you softly.

"Oh, I know, I know." He cooed at you. "She'll get used to it. Now take it."

And you trembled, fighting the internal battle of pulling his hand away or letting him fuck you senseless with a popsicle. The sticky, orange, freezing cold stick was melting inside of you. And every time Joel pulled it out and pushed it back down, some would drip out of your hole. Juices mixed with whatever blend of fruit you poured into those molds, all dripping down to the floor.

You could sense Joel's eyes locked on it, his breath becoming more labored than he would like to admit. He would beg to clean up that mess with his own tongue if it meant tasting your tangy, slightly sour slick.

"Takin' it so good, princess. Look at you. 's it feel good?" He asked, whispering against your ear. You couldn't see him but you knew that he looked pussy drunk, that grin on his face that told you he was high just from watching you take a popsicle or whatever he pushed inside of you.

You were a mess. Hair sticking to your forehead as the old ceiling fan wasn't strong enough to cool down any of you. Your own back felt sticky and hot against Joel's chest. But did he mind? No. He loved every liquid that would come out of you, even your sweat. He had eaten you out after being hours on patrol, sweat pooling in every fold of your body. But he just couldn't wait until you showered. That summed up how little Joel cared about any of that stuff.

Your head fell back against his shoulder and you shut your eyes closed as he stretched you further with the popsicle, the sounds were almost enough to make you want to hide your face in the crook of his neck out of embarrassment. They were almost pornographic, and you felt Joel's cock twitching underneath your ass.

"Joel—Please!" You cried out. "I want it. Please. I can—"

The popsicle was shoved into your mouth, pushing down on your tongue and making you gag softly as he went a little too deep. You could taste yourself in it, and it turned you on even more. Joel was tired of your cries, he would give you what he wanted when he wanted it.

"Hold it." He commanded and you held the popsicle, drool dripping out of it and into your chest, making an orange mess.

With his hands now free, he pushed your hips forward and up, lining the red, unattended tip of his dick against your entrance. You squirmed and cried, voice muffled by the long, cold stick.

"Shh, sh, sh. I got you, sweetheart."

I whispered and pulled you down against it with one swift move, having little to no mercy with your aching hole. He pushed on your lower back and you leaned forward as he started moving his hips deliberately, kissing your cervix every time he went up. He moaned at the sight of orange juice still pouring out of you, coating his cock along with your slick.

"What a sight, baby. I bet.."

He took the popsicle out of your mouth, and you panted for air. Your moans and soft cries filled the room as he filled you, stuffed you full to leave you limping for a week.

"..It'll look prettier like this." You almost didn't hear him, the pleasure overtaking you.. *almost*. But he made sure you did, at least, feel him when he pushed the popsicle into your rosebud, making the small hole stretch around it. He whimpered at the sight, something he never did. You gasped, holding onto the coffee table in front of you for dear life as you could swear you saw your soul leaving your body for good.

The squelching sounds, juices dripping everywhere making a mess around you two, was enough to make you near your orgasm. He pumped the thing in and out at the same rhythm as he raised his hips. You swore you'd never felt more full in your life, warm and cold at the same time in different places. He stared in awe, watching both of your holes swallow both him and the popsicle smoothly.

When Joel noticed that you were near, he picked up the pace of both: the popsicle that entered your anus with ease, melting and filling you to the brim, and his cock that you could swear you felt on your stomach.

"Thatta girl.. milk my cock, sweetheart. Yeah, good fucking girl."

He babbled nonsense, an indicator that he was close too. With not one, not two, but three thrusts he gripped your hips, biting down –gently– onto your shoulder as he painted your walls white with his seed. You could feel your legs twitching as his body trembled, your name coming out of his mouth in soft prayers. You followed quickly after him, closing your walls around his length in a way that almost got it hard again. You stayed there, bodies still intertwined and covered in fruit juices, panting for air until you both came back to reality.

He then scooped you up into his arms and carried you upstairs. He would clean up the mess later, he said as he guided you both into the shower. Once there, he made sure to clean up every dip and crevice of your body while you felt your eyelids drooping. He caressed your back gently and pressed soft kisses against your forehead and shoulders while rubbing you dry, making sure you were taken care of and never felt like any encounter was just to please him. Then, he carried you to bed and cuddled up against you, placing your head on his chest and running his fingers through your hair gently, like he always did to soothe you.

"We gotta make those more often. You know.. to survive the heat."

He murmured with a smirk as you drifted off to sleep. And all you could wonder was how the fuck did a man twenty years older than you have the stamina of a beast.

[raytoebiter]

viv. kick me (written work)

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It's 4:37PM when the harsh beams of sunlight finally mellow down to a mere soft glow that blankets the whole interior in a delicate color. It's also 4:37PM when you finally reach the café and the bell chimes emit a pleasant noise you're accustomed to.

“Oh, dear [Name]!” A voice laced with so much delight greets you, and you can only return it with a grin of your own, “how was school today?”

You slipped the snoopy slippers on, already dragging yourself over to your grandma whose arms are prepared wide and open for the hug that you've always looked forward to.

It never fails to soothe the tension in your shoulders when she rubs a particular spot.

“School was fine,” you sighed absentmindedly.

“'Is that so? Speaking of school, where's your friend?”

Your gut squirms in annoyance, frowning at the way her eyes spark up so childishly despite being adorned with wrinkles.

Friend, my ass.

Irked, a groan left your lips, “he’s probably gonna be here soon.”

The word, ‘soon’ sounds so bitter in your mouth. You just fought with the guy earlier at morning classes because–who the fuck even throws a dildo at someone's face!?

Your face burns, unaware of your grandmother chuckling in satisfaction until she's already pulling you near to the counter, “I'll make you hot chocolate, and after this, you can turn the sign over.”

Okay, do not think about Scaramouche. Do not think.

You gulped, urging the damn Incident away from your weary mind, “swiss miss?”

She grinned with a blink, “of course! Now, hurry up and sit! you’re gonna have a long day today, missy.”

Save me, you clench your jaw, god, save me from this 6-Hour-Shitshow..

Sighing, you deliberately and slowly place the phone back to the counter, head tilting abnormally to peek at the entrance of the café—and there he is. All in his glory, the Almighty Twink-A-Fuck.

You gulp. Deep breaths. Step. Walk. Step.

“Hey,” you half-assedly smile, lightly knocking onto one of the square windows on the door.

His hair bounces when he perks up from his phone, imperceptible widened eyes catching onto yours before it shifts to those narrowed eyes you're more accustomed to.

“Why the fuck are your doors locked.” Not a question. You shrug, already reaching out to the lock.

“Cats often get in here because they know how to open doors,” a pseudo smile reaches your lips, sweetness lacing your voice, “and ‘sides, I forgot you were coming.”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. A bell chime fills the silence, and you step over to the side as he enters.

A bright shine catches your peripheral as Scaramouche enters into the café without a care in the world, and holy–

Is that a fucking porsche!?

You abruptly whip your head to Scaramouche—who seems way too busy absorbing the interior of your café as if the asshole hasn't already been here a week ago—before whipping it back to the Shiny Glamorous Porsche. Because, what the fuck.

Okay, listen. You're not exactly an expert in The Damn Art of Cars but a Porsche had been on your wish list for years. God forbid the amount of times you've ratted off of your grandmother's ears as a child about how much you've salivated over damn metas and engines. At this point, you'd probably rather fuck a vehicle than a perso–

—A gasp. Then, horror. Absolute horror dawning in those indigo eyes. And.. and mirth? The fuck–

“You do realize you just said those outloud, right,” he deadpanned, voice tinted with indifference and amusement. Like what you said was the most appropriate thing. I mean, then again, you've said far worse things, but god–in the café? Where your dearest grandmother is quite literally just meters above your head? And could potentially hear you despite the thick hardwood floors?

That thought sends electricity to your body.

Pathetically, you sputtered, alternating between defending yourself, telling him to shut up because your grandmother is literally just upstairs and reasoning that, hey, can't you just let a girl nerd out? Only to end up giving him the Fuck-You finger when not even a coherent sentence ended up leaving your lips after a mere 3 minutes of full on panicking.

..Yeah, get that, motherfucker.

“Okay,” he drawls facetiously, after seconds of radio silence, “So, you want to fuck my car. Cool. My car's cool too.”

I swear I will haunt this asshole to death when I become a ghost.

“Shut up! Shut up, shut up. I don't want to hear it. Shut up.” resigned, your hand points to a double boiler, as he lets his gaze unceremoniously follow it.

Again, he snorts at the quaint sound of water boiling.

Then, he turns back to you with a sneer and a knowing lint in those fucking goddamn eyes, “well, whatever. I'll be in your care then, fruitcake.”

–

“Number 12 on the counter, please!”

Okay. So, even though you thought the Twink Fucker implied to be an absolute nuisance roughly three hours ago, he's actually surprisingly decent in the field. He knows how to do a few latte art, can brew an Americano correctly at least, and is mildly, overall experienced at it.

And admittedly, the way he moves around the area would what you call a fucking graceful dance shitshow. Listen, you're not one to exaggerate, but hell if you don't admit that the asshole frankly looks like he's dancing around while brewing damn espressos.

(You can feel bile gathering up in your esophagus when you ponder more over the damn poise he has.)

Presently, it's been three hours since the shift had started, and you've done nothing but scrutinising the Twink-Ass with keen eyes as your grandmother had given you the task to.

And embarrassingly enough, it seems you're not the only one, guessing with how much habitués has been ogling the mysterious new face at the counter. You're pretty sure that neither of them has the balls to ask, considering they linger quite a bit longer in favor of inspecting the asshole’s face instead of asking for his damn number.

However, as time ticked by, an old lady whom you recognize as that one lady who sells adult toys on a sidewalk manages the balls to ask. However, when she does ask, she doesn't ask the asshole. No, no, she comes to you. With the most expectant shine in her eyes and a girl’s name rolling off of her tongue.

And you, who have decided to be the kindest, offer the old lady 10 numbers with a note that you managed to write behind Scaramouche’s back, “tell your granddaughter to spam his phone; he likes those things in a woman,” followed by a wink. It's clear she's a bit perplexed, but she nods anyway.

That's revenge for the fucking dildo, asshole.

Four hours pass, and the café finally settles down as the end of the shift steadily approaches. And it's then that Scaramouche finally and unfortunately breaks the streak of not talking to you for four hours straight.

He approaches with the same pseudo smile he offers to the customers and with a patronising tone, he asks, “so? how’d I do?”

Absolute dogshit. I don't want you here.

“I’ll send my feedback to grandma later,” you sardonically smiled, avoiding the question as you tilt your head to the short stack of papers on the rickety table.

His attention flitted between you and the paper all the while having his lips pursed into that smile before dropping his facade and clicking his tongue.

“What? Don't tell me you were expecting flattery,” you snorted.

In return, he grimaced, “ew, god, no. I don't consider your flattery to be worthy enough to brood over.”

Your brows raised, “careful, now. your job is quite literally in my hands right now.”

The grimace only deepened before it twisted to a scowl, “I'll just find a new one if you ever do fire me from here.”

“As if anyone would ever accept your nasty ass.”

“Your nanny did.”

“That's ‘cause she doesn't know what you're like in school.”

Incredulity coursed through his features before chuckling, the sound itself bitter, “you sound like someone that I really fucking hate.”

“You do hate me,” you answered, simple and true. Not that you were ever bothered by it; you hated him too.

Then, in a fleeting moment, his gaze flickered to you, a confused glimmer in them as his brows raised the slightest bit as he reluctantly replied, “no, I fucking don't?”

The fuck?

Your stomach twisted, feeling the familiar sting in the back of your throat, “what?”

“Not as much as I hate that someone, anyway,” his voice silent yet so full of resentment before a newly complacent tone replaces it, “Also, I dislike you, asswipe.”

Oh, okay. You frowned. What's the difference? Did the word, ‘hate’ have a much deeper meaning? Weren't they just the same?

“..Well, I hate you,” you don't miss the way his face dropped to a deadpan, “that one's really obvious.”

“Yeah,” he rolled his eyes, leaning against the counter with an elbow propped on one of the sturdy machines, “really fucking obvious.”

This time, you respond with a glare.

In return, you get a disgusting tongue stuck out to you before he annoyingly decides to spare you the time and gazes off somewhere to the distance instead–blissfully ignoring your glares of daggers and muttered profanities.

Of course the peace doesn't last long.

"What's up with you and fucking Porsches anyway?"

A sigh, "please just shut up."

Then surprisingly, he does shut up. He did scoff though. Your gaze moved to the clock just right above the entrance.

9:47PM. Two hours left before your bedtime. You could wait it out and send the asshole home. But then again.. maybe you could overwork the asshole.

Under the guise of reluctance, you break the silence, “I’ll go clean up. We’ll switch from here, and then you can go home after.”

His head snapped to you, slightly tilted, “switch?”

“Yeah, switch. You go help grandma upstairs and I'll take care of the stuff from here. And, I'm pretty sure the pastries will be here at around..” you shot a glance at the clock again, noting the time, “twelve minutes from now, so off you go.”

As if contemplating, he narrowed his eyes before a smirk tugged at his lips and he tauntly drawls, “sure, whatever you say, fruitcake.”

A vein throbs in your temple. You could handle other names like dumbass, ass-kisser (???), fuckwipe, dickwad and other things you'd prefer not thinking about but this? It.. just sounds so..

“..Annoying. Fucking annoying.”

He rolls his eyes with a snort, already turning on his heels and heading to the staff room, “tell me something that's new, asswipe.”

"Back door's the exit for the staff here, by the way!"

The door clicked to a close, and you briefly wondered if he heard you or not.

..Well, nevertheless, you hope he wakes up with the most fucked up body ache known to mankind.

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|| previous episode - next episode. ||

───〃★tunes of your heartbeat masterlist

synopsis: in which your fate somehow gets entangled into a messy jumble between punk music in cozy cafés, intense rivalry, cherished yakults, parallelograms and quantum physics, competitions in contests and rainy days. or in other words; the universe seems to fucking hate your guts for whatever reason and decided to curse your love life with your awful crass emo twink-a-fuck rival. the question is; did the curse work?

taglist (50/50): @toekissers , @raineyun @localscarasimp , @potteraep , @shutingstar , @feiherp , @scaraenthusiast1 @dazqa , @wraithisd3adinside , @x-hihihi-x , @court-jester-stuff , @automaticpatroltragedy , @lalalaloveallmydays , @trulyylee , @jayzioxx , @featuredtofu @kazemiya @help-whatdoimakemyusername , @skyoverkill1 @phoenix-eclipses , @anqelkoz , @miyakomari @saechiro @franaby , @swivi , @vixialuvs , @heusalettle @kunikissr @yomishen @mywillt0live , @baldrapunzel @jiminscarmex @sushitushi, @liuaneee , @shynsgore , @mechanicalbeat1 , @marivaudages , @okukura , @azzumei @lucid1tty @iloveescara @usagiarchive @kyouzki @theunhingedmf @kangyeonie @mi2ukiss @bubblebellaz @eternallykira-143 @lumiicch

• featured song - nothing's gonna change my love for you by george benson

authors' notes - i tried my best in writing scara as VAGUE as fucking possible while also keeping the brandname of him being a fake idgafer💜 also you know those people who tries so hard to wink but just can't? i imagined that with [name]'s grandma and i just fucking cackled at the image lmfao

p.s - if u don't know the meaning of the song scara had on the last pic then i suggest u do a google search😋😋😋 gonna be a big ass foreshadowing

(ask to be added or removed)

[lullydoesstuff]

- TOP DYSTOPIAN BOOKS -

Well, since I want to use this blog for personal stuff too and not just for requests or stuff concerning my MANY Demon Slayer AUs, here we are talking about some of my favourite books ever.

I love dystopian ones so these three will be very hard-core, I love the Hunger Games, I love Maze Runner, I love 1984 but these three just hit different.

Let's not lose time and let's begin!

3 - Tender is the Flesh (Augustina Bazterrica)

I decided to start with a book that has arrived in my country just this year, I didn't know about it before and I'm so glad I red it, even if it really disturbed me... do you know what the Promised Neverland is? Well, take it but make it Supersayan. And this is the less disturbing one here.

Plot: Marcos works in the meat industry, he always did but recently a virus started spreading, and animals couldn't be edible anymore so what does the government do? They start searching for vegan replacements? NO! They legalize cannibalism. Marcos has a troubled life, his father has gone mad since this "transition" from animal meat to human meat and his wife left him after they lost their son. He works in the meat industry but he swears to himself that he's not like the others, because he doesn't eat meat.

I know what you're thinking, "but this is a book to bring people close to veganism, it's the whole point"... no, congratulations, you didn't understand ANYTHING. This book is way more complex, this because it's about the line that divides humanization/objectification, and this will be a recurring theme in this post.

This book is full of gore (what did you expect?), graphic descriptions, violence, sexual violence so I don't know if I recommend this book to everyone, it's very short but be aware of this if you decide to read it. In any case, the plot is very interesting and it's very well written.

2 - The Handmaid's Tale (Margaret Atwood)

I'm sure many of you have seen the TV series, I've seen it too and it's one of the few cases I say that the series is better than the book, maybe because the series has a more modern setting and so I can actually be terrified by it.

Plot: the world has been almost destroyed by wars and this caused the birth to decrease to 0, and what happens in America? After a coup a new government is instituted... a totalitarian theocracy where religious confessions that aren't Christianity are banned, let's fucking go, this new country's name is Gilead. In this new world women have an only job: being literal baby machines given to rich families to have children.

This is so damn disturbing because, the insemination thing is wild, the man reads a Bible verse from Genesis, and then he just... does it. It's gross, go check for yourselves, human butchering was nothing compared to this.

We follow June, an Handmaid and we just see how things work in this new... amazing... world... I guess.

1 - Unwind (Neal Shusterman)

This deserves the first place, I've never stopped reading a book I loved because it disturbed me too much. I wanted to support the author, he's very good, so I bought all the other books from the Unwind distology... but I finished the first one and never red the second one, please tell me in the comments if it isn't as disturbing as the first one so I can give it a chance or not.

Plot: in the USA a second civil war is fought, but that's not a war where you shoot people from aontoher country to conquer it, or to oppose the government (well... kinda), it's about reproductive rights, many discussions, many things but in the end people decree that you can't abort in any case (*Lully already screaming and tearing off her hair*) BUT you can... well... Unwind your child if you don't want them anymore. But just when he's from 13 to 18.

What does unwind mean? Basically you give your unwanted child to some clinics that literally vivisection them (yes, the person is awake during the process BY LAW) and give thier organs to people that need transplants.

Now you can easily understand why this is the number 1 in this list, it's the destructive combo between "Tender is The Flash" and "the Handmaid's Tale".

We'll follow the story of Risa, Connor and Levi (and this last one oh my God, I wanted to punch his family so bad), escaping their fate of being unwind.

And yes, that scene comes, yes, you will see a vivisection, and yes... you will feel physically sick and need to throw up after, you'll probably have nightmares and life crisis. Also because... the unwind isn't exactly one of the "good guys".

Ah, dear pro-life people that care about a bunch of unborn cells and can't distinguish a human embryo from a dolphin embryo... Read this book, then change your mind about other people's body and take choices just for yours, because it seems we're going back and not aiming foward as we should.

[thlayli-ra]

Prompt:

Punkintyre fucking in Cody's dressing room since they nearly got caught it the hallway (maybe it's the day before or of a ppv) and Cody is never in his dressing room. Drew and Punk trying to stay quiet, and they manage to not attract attention despite their activities, until Cody and Roman (Or Randy if you prefer Candy) walk in clearly about to use Cody's dressing room for the exact same thing as Punkintyre.

(I personally think Roman would be funnier since Drew/Punk could get all pissy about Cody banging him:

Punkintyre: ROMAN?? SERCOISLY?! HE'S THE WORST! YOU CAN'T BANG SOMEONE WHO YOU FOUGHT AT WRESTLEMAINA, WHO ATTACKS YOU, WHO INTERFEARS IN YOUR MATCHES?!

CodyRoman: :/

I just think they're funny)

Anyway, love your writing/Art, keep up the great work! I hope you enjoy their Hell In A Cell match <3

Whelp! The same day I tell my brain not to get distracted, I get this amazing prompt and immediately get distracted 😅

I've written Dead Dove Punkintyre, heart-warming hurt/comfort Punkintyre - now it's time to get a little silly with these two. **Warning** - Punk being the ultimate little shit incoming...

Rating - Mature (18+)

Words - ~3k words

'Were you under the ring the whole fucking time?'

Punk blinked up innocently at Drew who was looking more than a little hot and flustered. 'The signal aint great,' he replied with a cute shrug as he held up his phone, pointing to the app that was currently open on the screen. 'I had to be close by for it to work.'

'You mean, you wanted to be close by,' Drew shot back, seeing right through the tattooed man's lies, 'so that you could listen in while you tormented me.'

'And you did so well,' Punk cooed. 'Nobody would have a clue.'

'Please, please tell me you didn't go live on Instagram this time?'

'I didn't, I swear,' Punk put up his hands before muttering under his breath, 'stupid apps wouldn't let me use them at the same time.'

All of a sudden, Drew's entire face scrunched up and he nearly collapsed in on himself. Quickly, he put his meaty arm against the wall for support.

'Oh?' Punk tilted his head to the side, a cocky smirk rising up one cheek. 'You feeling ok there, Big Boy?'

Drew grunted a blasphemy in reply. 'Turn it down.'

'Turn what down?' Punk bent low in order to see the harrowing expression on Drew's face.

'The thing! The damn thing!' Drew pleaded, screwing his eyes shut.

'Turn the damn thing down, what?'

'Fuck you! FUCK YOU!'

'Tut tut,' Punk shook his head and looked back at his phone. 'You know what happens when you disrespect Daddy?'

Drew's brow shot up when he saw Punk's finger slide up the screen. 'NO! WAIT! GAARRRGGHH!' The large Scot fell against the wall, needing both hands to hold himself upright.

'Damn!' Punk's huge green eyes glistened impishly and he practically giggled with glee. He could actually hear the damn thing vibrating like crazy in Drew's trunks. 'It sure packs a punch, huh?'

'TURN IT DOWN! PLEASE! FOR THE LOVE OF THE WEE MAN! TURN IT DOWN OR I'M GOING TO-'

'Shhh!' Punk scolded the Scot, glancing around him. 'You want the entire backstage to hear you?'

'GAH! FUCK! FUUUUU-'

'Dammit!' Punk grabbed Drew by his large shoulders and shoved him down the hallway, away from prying eyes and ears. Heading the first door they passed, he looked inside and found the small locker room empty. 'Here, get in.' Pushing the writhing Scot inside, Punk pulled the door shut. Now that they were safely hidden away, he could focus on torturing his victim even more. 'You can't take a little teasing, you big baby?'

'YOU HAVE THAT THING TURNED ALL THE WAY UP! DON'T YOU?!'

"Don't be dramatic,' Punk scoffed. 'Of course I don't have- oh, wait, yeah I do. Whoops!' He used his finger to slide the curser on his screen down, but only by a tiny margin. Just enough for Drew to stop yelling but still enough to keep his breath coming in those juicy little gasps. 'That better?'

'You little shitebag,' Drew cursed through his gritted teeth.

'What happened to all that self-control in the ring out there?' Punk asked, sidling up to the Scot who was soaked through with sweat, and not just from the exertions of his match. 'Is it cause I'm here now?'

'You wish that- hrrfff!' Drew's words were savagely cut off by Punk's hand grabbing the front of his trunks, fingers curling tightly around his rock-hard cock and balls...

..and the solid silicone ring around the base of his dick!

'Ooh, there it is!' Punk's eyes lit up with mischief. Using his thumb, he slid the curser up and down so that he could feel the difference in vibrations, grinning from ear to ear as Drew's whimpering kicked up into desperate whines and back down again, allowing the suffering Scot to steady his senses for a few seconds. Before jamming it all the way back up again.

'FUCK! FUCK! FU-'

Punk felt a throbbing down south and couldn't resist anymore. Grabbing Drew by the back of his head, he yanked him down to his height and muffled his howls by shoving his tongue into his open mouth. He hummed joyfully as he invaded the warm cavity, giving Drew some vibrations above to match the ones below, and entangled his inked fingers in his wet hair.

A rumble tingled Punk's lips, not from his own throat but from Drew's. He had finally awoken the Scot's inner beast! Large hands grabbed him by the thighs, lifting him clean off his feet and he was slammed against the wall. Drew thrusted his aching groin between Punk's legs, the vibrations of his cock ring now shuddering through the denim of Punk's jeans to excite his own dick.

'Shhhhhhhiiiitttt,' Punk choked out, the strength of the sensation between his legs almost blinding.

'How'd you like that, ye wee prick!' Drew snarled in Punk's ear, ruthlessly pinning the smaller man's groin with his own.

Inked fingers clawed at Drew's naked shoulder blades, ragged nails digging in as the fierce convulsions pulsed through them both. Overcome with animalistic desire, Drew began to dry-hump the older man, growling at every distressed yelp from his trapped victim.

Until-

'What was that?' Punk lifted his head, eyes wide and ears pricked. Drew hadn't noticed and was still grinding his hips against him. 'Drew! Stop! Someone's coming!'

The Scot finally paused. In the silence, they both heard voices right outside the door.

'Shit!' Punk swore as the handle to the door began to turn. He wriggled free from Drew's grasp. 'In here. Quick, you idiot!' Grabbing Drew by the wrist, he pulled him towards a closet in the corner and managed to squeeze them both in right before the door opened. The two men held their breaths as the voices became clearer, drawing closer.

'I meant what I said,' the first voice said, footsteps stomping into the room, 'I'm done with the Bloodline.'

Inside the closet, Punk gulped loudly. He knew that voice. It was Cody Rhodes! And going purely by the sound of the hefty footsteps following him, he was most likely with his work husband, Randy Orton. Or maybe Kevin Owens?

'So you keep sayin',' a deep, rich voice answered, 'but I'm not buyin' it. Nobody is!'

Punk's jaw just about dropped to the floor. That wasn't Orton. Or Owens.

It was Roman fucking Reigns!

'I don't care what anybody thinks,' Cody snapped back. 'I have been fighting the Bloodline in one variation or another since I returned to the WWE. I've watched them hurt the people I care about, I've endured all the punishment they've inflicted on me, that you inflicted on me. I have bled because of you and your family.'

There was a pause. Tension filled the air so thick it could be sliced with a knife. Punk imagined the two men were standing chest-to-chest and feverishly wished there was a slit or keyhole or something in this closet door he could peep through to watch the action. Instead all he had was a six foot five, quivering Scotsman jamming all four giant limbs into him.

'Can you just-' he hissed at Drew but clammed shut when Cody started talking again. Low this time, quiet. Oh, it was getting serious. Punk pressed his left ear against the door - his bad ear but it would have to do - to hear what he had to say.

'Far as I'm aware, I beat Solo Sikoa in Berlin. I beat the Tribal Chief-'

'He is not the Tribal Chief! He may wear the Ula Fala but that man is an imposter!'

'That's your problem, not mine!'

'You are the WWE Champion!' Roman lets his words hang in the air. 'When you won that belt from me, you made a promise to change the WWE for the better. To lead us all-'

'You were the one who made the mess in the first place.'

'I know...' Roman's voice turned small. Defeated. 'I just... want to fix it.'

Punk pressed his ear tighter against the door. Damn his partial deafness! And Drew wasn't helping with his constant whimpering. Two large fingers tugged at his sleeveless shirt, trying to pry his attention away from the other men outside. 'Get off,' he scolded Drew.

The Scotsman gave a pathetic whine.

'Shush!'

'P-Puuuunk!'

'Shut up! Or else they'll hear you.'

There was a long, drawn out silence, a shuffling of feet. By the time Cody spoke again, his tone has softened. 'You have your chance to fix it now. You're back! Go, take down the Bloodline. For good.'

'But, I can't do this alone,' a squeak of a sneaker. Punk guessed that Roman had stepped closer to Cody. 'I've never done anything on my own. Please, Cody. I need you!'

'Puuuuunk.'

'Will you just shut the fuck up!'

God he wished he could see. He was certain that Roman had his arm out, hand cupping Cody's blushing cheek. He knew that sweet sight well. Punk always loved how his pink cheeks contrasted beautifully with his platinum blonde hair.

Cody heaved a sigh. There was a slight shake to it, like he had been caught off-guard. Punk licked his dry lips and used all of his energy to focus. 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend,' he said finally. 'Right?'

'Right,' Roman replied, his tone warmer, like he was smiling. 'Anyway, you remember how it was when we feuded. We were good together.'

'We were good together,' the champion had turned a little hoarse. Just exactly how close was Reigns to him right at that second? Punk was dying to know!

Another tug at his shirt. 'Puuuunk. Pleeeasseeee!'

'I swear to Jeebus, if you say one more word, I'm gonna- woah!' Punk had finally turned around to look at Drew and was shocked to see the scarlet face on the larger man, beads of sweat as big as bullets raining down his brow. He suddenly remembered the toy on his cock and the high-pitched buzz filtered back into his range of hearing. 'Oh fuck, I forgot!'

'T-turn it d-down. P-p-please. I'm going to, I'm so close to-'

'Don't you fucking dare!' Punk warned the Scot, frantically searching his pockets. 'Not before I have a chance to-'

Both men jumped a foot when a long clatter boomed out right next to them. Something had smashed into the other side of the closet door. No, wait, not something. The mumbled moans and loud slurps betrayed the culprits as Roman and Cody, making out sloppy style right there on the other side of the thin wood.

Punk turned to Drew in disbelief, mouthing 'holy shit' to the other man. Drew could only reply with a pained grimace.

'Damn, I've missed this,' Roman's voice rumbled, only an inch or two away from the stowaways. 'You always taste so good.'

Cody was breathless already. 'So... so everybody keeps telling me.'

'Is this an expensive suit?'

'No. Why?'

The sound of fabric being shredded bucked life back between Punk's legs. The blood drained from his head, rushing down south fast, making his jeans all the tighter. Then his shirt was tugged again.

'Daddy?'

Oh, fuck! Drew was desperate now! Why now? Why call him that now? When Punk was starting to ache horribly himself but couldn't do a damn thing about it.

'Daddy! P-please h-help me.'

'I'm trying! I'm trying!' he hissed back, sliding his hands into every one of the pockets of his jeans, struggling to fit his inked fingers between the too-taut denim and coming up empty.

Punk went still.

Horrible realisation dawning on him.

Drew arched his brows wretchedly at him, his blue eyes swelling with dread.

'D-daddy?'

Punk slowly met his gaze, lips pursed tight. 'I... don't have my phone,' he whispered fearfully. 'I must have dropped it when-'

Another clatter against the door and both men backed away, wedging themselves as far back into the tiny space as they could. The wood slammed again and again, rhythmic. Punk's brain went into a spin when he recognised the sound of two men fucking one another like wild animals.

Meanwhile Drew let out a pitiful squeal of his own, the intensity on his cock too much to bear. Punk rushed towards him, ramming both of his hands over Drew's mouth. 'Shhhh, hold on. Just... hold on a little longer.'

The rhythmic banging intensified, punctuated by deep strains of Roman's grunts and higher tones of Cody's gasps. All while Drew's warm dog breath fogged on Punk's hands, the buzzing seemingly getting louder, like a swarm of angry hornets surrounding them. Punk was pressed so tightly against Drew that he could feel the sensation of the cock ring on his stomach, jiggling his lower gut like jelly. On a hydraulic drill. During a mag 9 earthquake!

He grit his teeth, tried to fight back against the growth in his jeans but was failing miserably. How the fuck had Drew's dick not exploded from this fucking thing yet?

The Scot was dangerously close though. Teetering right on the edge. A tear ballooned out the corner of his eye and slid down his cheek.

'No! Drew! No!'

Suddenly Punk's hands were useless. Drew's bellows breaking through the inked fingers.

'The fuck was that?'

Punk's heart skipped a beat. They'd been rumbled!

Ten seconds later, the door was wrenched open, light hitting the two accidental voyeurs concealed inside the closet. 'Punk? Is that you? And... Drew?'

The Scot let out a final strangled wail followed by a long, drawn-out groan of relief. His large legs went slack and he slumped to the floor, back pressed into the corner of the closet and head lolled.

'Oh for fuck's sake, Drew,' Punk kicked one floppy tree-trunk leg with the toe of his sneaker. 'You fucking, pathetic-'

'Eh-hem!'

Punk looked up sheepishly at Cody and Roman. Both men were in a dishevelled state, like they had only had enough time to zip up their flies after the interruption. Cody's shirt was torn apart and his cheeks rosy. Roman was panting, his shoulders heaving.

Punk crossed his arms and lowered his brow. 'Yeah?' he glowered at the pair. 'Can I help you?'

'Well, yeah!' Cody replied incredulously. 'You can tell me what you're doing here.'

'We were here first,' he shot back with a shrug. 'What are you doing here?'

'It's my locker room.'

Punk squinted at him, confused. 'Your locker room?'

'It has my name right there on the door!'

'Oh,' Punk withered. 'I... did not see that.'

'Punk,' Cody scrubbed a hand through his hair with a sigh, 'what are you doing hiding in my locker room, with Drew McIntyre of all people?'

The tattooed man bristled at the question. 'What am I doin'-? What about you? What are you doin'? What would Randy say if he found out you were sleeping with the enemy?'

'You're the one fucking Drew McIntyre!'

'Hey! We were not fucking!' Punk protested before quickly returning the conversation back to Cody and Roman. 'And anyway, come on! Roman fucking Reigns? The guy made your life hell? You faced him at Wrestlemania, twice! He attacked you for crying out loud!'

'Drew McIntyre smashed your face into a metal door and left you a bloodied corpse in your own home town!'

'Roman had his third cousin, thrice removed, through wedlock or however the fuck Dwayne is related to him, beat you to the floor and whip you senseless with a leather belt.'

'Oh... my god!' Cody screamed into his hands. 'Are you even listening to yourself right now? Are the concussions finally catching up with you? Do you even remember what the hell happened in Berlin or have you just lost your damn mind?'

'What did you do to Drew?' Roman's booming voice broke through the two men's bickering and they turned to spy the unresponsive Scot.

'Oh, shit! I forgot! Again!' Punk looked around and spied his phone on the floor close to where Drew had lifted him up earlier but before he could retrieve it, Roman picked it up. 'Hey! Gimme that!'

'Hmm,' Roman cocked an eyebrow as he scanned over the controls on the phone's screen. 'Just-Vibing? What is this?'

'Nothing!' Punk failed miserably at looking innocent.

Roman slid his thumb down the curser and Drew let out a sigh of sweet relief. But as he slid it back up, he tensed up again and thumped his head back against the corner of the closet. Then, when he pressed a button, there was a series of sharp buzzing which Drew gasped with in unison.

'Wait, it pulses?' Punk asked in astonishment. 'I didn't know that!'

'Man, old people with technology!' Cody mocked.

'Shut. Up!'

Roman ignored them and walked over to the ragged Scot. 'Hands up, Puppy,' he said and Drew immediately complied.

'Wait, what?' Punk spluttered out from behind.

'He was mine first,' Roman returned. He dipped two fingers into the studded waistband of Drew's trunks and pulled them back, discovering a wet, sticky mess coating the inside of his gear as well as the brightly coloured silicone ring wrapped around Drew's softened dick. 'You got him a cock-ring?'

'He broke my bracelet, so I told him to buy me a replacement,' Punk shrugged with a mischievous grin. 'Told him he could keep it in his trunks like he used to, you know, for old times sake.'

'It's the same fucking colours too,' Roman rolled his eyes.

'Maybe it's about time he returns it,' Cody side-eyed Punk, slyly.

'Huh?' the tattooed wrestler glanced warily between them. 'What are you-?'

'Good idea,' Roman said, reaching into Drew's trunks and slipping the silicon ring off of him, the Scot purring as he was freed. However, Punk's panic spiked and he tried to back away from the impending danger. 'Here,' Roman tossed Punk's phone to Cody, 'since he sullied your locker room, you get to play with him first.'

'Well, if you insist,' Cody grinned wickedly at Punk, who found himself backed into a corner, Roman and the cum-soaked cockring drawing closer and closer.

'Now, wait, we can all talk about this like gentlemen, right? Guys. Guys???'

[leilakisakabiri]

She’s The Man (Gavi)

Summary: You make Gavi watch one of your comfort movies and he can’t help but get invested. 

Warning(s): None, domestic fluff.

A/N: Please send requests if you have any. Also, holy shit guys 575 likes on my last post and counting, you all deserve the world. Thank you so much. 

Word Count: [957]

Masterlist

“Y/n no please.” Gavi groaned on the couch next to you, watching as you turned on your favorite comfort movie.

“What? It just came on Netflix, there’s no way I can’t watch it.” You protested, fingers already pressing the play button.

He groaned again, his body sinking further down into the cushions, “This is so girly!”

You huffed, “Oh c’mon you haven’t even seen it. You’ll love it. Plus, it has football in it.” You tried to get him interested in the film but to no avail.

This whole thing had started after Gavi had decided to come over to your apartment after practice. The two of you had been dating for the last few months and had gotten to the point in your relationship where instead of always going out and doing something, you would sometimes stay in, opting to order takeout and watch movies.

That, however, led to a host of petty arguments as the two of you always fought about what to watch, having completely different tastes in movies. While Gavi liked watching action or comedy movies, you loved horror or the occasional romcom.

I mean c’mon who wouldn’t want to watch a man written by a women?

“Ok let’s watch this tonight, and next time you can pick.” You suggested.

“Fine, but I’m not watching, I’ll just lay here. Bored.” He responded, looking over at you with puppy dog eyes.

You squinted your eyes at him before turning back to the TV, “Sounds good to me.”

He huffed, rolling his eyes as he shifted to move closer to you, wrapping an arm around you as the movie started, leaning his head on your shoulder, and closing his eyes.

You were immediately engrossed in the movie, watching as Amanda Bynes transformed into a guy.

You were barely twenty minutes into the movie when Gavi spoke up, “Does she really think that’s going to work, it’s so obvious she’s a girl!”

You turned to him, “I thought you were sleeping?”

You saw him close his eyes the second you turned to look at him and went to call him out but decided against it.

“I’m trying but I can still hear the movie.”

“Right.” You responded, focusing your attention back on the TV.

Another 30 minutes passed, and you were sure Gavi was asleep when he spoke again during a particularly intense scene, causing you to jump at the sudden noise.

“Wait why doesn’t Viola just tell Duke the truth?” He asked, voice breaking the silence, as he moved to pause the movie.

“I thought you weren’t watching?” You questioned.

“I’m not.”

“Ok.”

You left the conversation at that refocusing your attention and clicking play.

“…But why though?”

“Gavi are you watching or not?” You asked, fed up with pausing the movie so many times.

“Ok maybe. It’s kinda good.” He admitted.

You gave him a grin, leaning over hug his side, “See I told you.”

“Yeah, whatever, just play the movie.”

You laughed, starting the movie again.

Gavi’s fingers softly rubbed circles on your shoulder as you watched, and you leaned into him getting a whiff of his cologne.

Damn this boy smelled so good, especially for coming over straight after practice.  

You felt your tummy flip as he turned to look at you, your faces millimeters apart. From your position, you could make out the flecks of brown in his eyes, and the scrunch of his eyebrows as he looked down at you.

“You good?” He asked, voice soft.

You nodded giving him a kiss on the cheek, “You’re just so pretty.”

You saw him blush, a pink hue spreading on his cheeks, as he turned to the side with a smile, not being able to hide it, “Stop Y/n.”

You giggled, pulling him closer to you, wrapping your leg around his, basking in his warmth.

It was quiet for the rest of the movie, until the last ten minutes.

You felt Gavi unwrap himself from you as he leaned forward, gesturing wildly at the TV, “This movie is ridiculous. Since when does football have parkour?”

You laughed at his outburst, finding it funny how aggravated he was, complaining about a teen girl romcom not being an accurate portrayal of football.

You shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know, I think it makes the game more exciting, and it looks cool.”

He turned to look at you with a deadpan expression, “Oh really? Well then in that case excuse me I have to go learn how to do a backflip off the goal post for the next game.” He muttered sarcastically.

You let out a loud laugh, “Now that is a good idea. Maybe then you would win more games.”

His eyes widened comically, and he gave you the most offended look, “You did not just say that.”

“I’m sorry, it was just too easy.” You let out between laughs.

He rolled his eyes, moving away from you on the couch, crossing his arms.

“You’re a great player.” You spoke again.

“You have to say that you’re my girlfriend.” He muttered.

“No, for real, I mean it.” You finally pulled yourself together, looking at him.

“Swear?” He made eye contact with you, and you could feel a smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you willed yourself to remain serious.

You always laughed at the worst times.

“Swea-“ Your voice broke at the end of the word and you had to hide your smile behind your hands, not being able to look at him with a straight face.

“Y/n.” He whined throwing a cushion at you, as you sank further into the couch, not being able to get the picture of Gavi doing a backflip off the goalpost out of your head.

[catholic-character-tournament]

Round 5 - Catholic Character Tournament

Propaganda below ⬇️

Sister Michael

She drives a DeLorean. She does judo on Fridays. She likes a good statue and despises the French. Her full nun name is Sister George Michael, after the guy from Wham!. She is the fiercest nun you’ll ever come across and, if you’re attending Lady Immaculate College, she’s the woman in charge. So whatever you do, if you’re feeling anxious or worried or just need a chat: don’t come crying to her.

joined the nunnery for the free accommodation?

she does love a good statue it has to be said

She is the headmistress of a catholic school <3

sister michael so reminds me of the nuns who taught me. they're tough and sometimes a little harsher than a woman who dedicated her life to god should be but they're also wonderful people. i had a nun teacher who was 60 years old and would do handstands. another nun (also in her 60s) told me god was nonbinary. another was really mean and made me cry. (so did the handstand nun.) while the catholic girls school is The Catholic Experience, the school wouldn't have been the same for me or the derry girls without at least one nun who seemed to have sprung up out of the ground fully formed, ageless.

Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler Propaganda:

good lord where do i start. in the animated series he converts logan to catholisism and then fucks off basically thats the main thing he did there. i think one time they tried to make him a demon to explain how he looked but everyone hated that. he sold his soul one time to help his friends out after he died. he and logan have a weird little gay thing. he was a priest one time but he was made a priest by a fake bishop from a religion that hates mutants iirc so he just wasnt a priest. like 3 people have written him in a way i like and one of those is my friend just talking about how they view him.

wow marvel loves making catholic characters dress/look like demons

Kurt is a mutant who was born to mystique who looks a LOT like a devil (technically is half one but that cannon truth isn’t real go back to bed), his mother dropped him off a cliff when he was born and he was picked up by a Romani group/circus (fuck old comics man) however he then narrowly escaped being sold to a freak show and found himself in a small German town. There he met a kind priest, who showed him God, and he quickly grew attached to the idea- However, it wasn’t long before people began labeling him a demon and soon the whole town was against him with pitchforks and fire. Cornered and injured, Kurt thought this might be the end for him- maybe he would see heaven so long after finding it- but he was then saved by Charles Xavier who invited him to the X-Men. AND ITS BEEN SO MANY YEARS AND HE HAS BEEN THROUGH SO MUCH THERE. SO MUCH. SO GOD DAMN MUCH. BUT THE MOST AAAA THING TO ME CONCERNING HIS FAITH HE WHEN HE LITERALLY DIED AND WENT TO HEAVEN BUT THEN BECAUSE OF DRAMA WITH HIS FATHER HAD TO BRING HIS FRIENDS IN WITH HIM FROM THE BEYOND. THEN WITH ALOT OF TROUBLE THEY FOUGHT HIS FATHER AND THE ONLY WAY KURT SAW TO STOP HIM WAS IN A MOVE THAT STRIPPED THEM BOTH OF THEIR SOULS AND PUT THEM BACK ON EARTH. SO KURT CANONICALLY HAS NOW LOST HIS ABILITY FOR ETERNAL PEACE, LOST HIS VERY SOUL, TO SAVE PEOPLE- AND ALSO TOLD NO ONE NOT EVEN HIS GAY LOVER WOLVERINE.

Nightcrawler is a mutant vigilante who looks like a classical demon. He can’t even go to church without people panicking and trying to exorcize him. Despite it all, he’s so full of faith and hope and compassion, and he wants to believe the best of everyone. Also, he’s bffs with an extremely angry Jewish sword lesbian. That has nothing to do with anything, but it’s important to me that you all know that.

What if you were a devout christian and literally looked like the devil? He nearly became the pope, which was a plot by some supervillains that also involved faking a rapture? There is nothing like comics I swear to god.

A catholic who is half demon I don’t think I can better explain a struggle than that. But his character is so relatable to people who feel unwelcome with their congregation because of something that is a part of them but still feeling a connection to the faith. Kurt actively engaged in his faith and shares how his faith helps him through all the things he has faced in life and how he found a home with those of the church who leave the judging to God.

so they made kurt a priest briefly before deciding to retcon it, resulting in nightcrawler actually being part of a plan by villains to promote him to pope then reveal to the world that the pope is a demon. wild.

I have a side blog and a tattoo about him and i really really want him to win

Wisecracking devil-appearing devout Catholic with the Best superpower (teleportation)? HECK YES

German Catholic circus acrobat who looks like a demon & can teleport through a hellish alternate dimension with a puff of sulfur. Character of all time.

hes catholic and his dad is the devil. what could be funnier than that. also hes my silly little guy.

Nightcrawler is the world’s most fun catholic priest. I first was introduced to this kindhearted teleporting acrobat while he saved a boat full of stowaway refugees from inter dimensional pirates with swashbuckling gusto!

[lemmeurs]

okay. here is my 1600+ words essay on raphael. if anyone would like to adress anything from it, please do but keep it civil! i am so damn invested in this topic, i wanna hear everyone's thoughts

raphael rant

(DISCLAIMER: this essay was not written in order to justify Raphael as a character or any of his actions or intentions. i am completely skipping any point of morality, whether my own or just in general, i simply wanted to somehow try and write my feelings and thoughts down while looking at the whole thing from an objective point of view, analyzing the design of the game, the plotline and his whole persona and just.. idk i wanted to see whether anyone else felt the way i do because i have been going INSANE over this for the past few days)

hi. i have come here today to express my thoughts and feelings on Raphael the cambion and "his final act". this is being randomly and spontaneously written in my notes app so please excuse the absolute chaos that this essay will be (no i won't be rereading it, fuck it we ball) (CONTAINS BG3 ACT III SPOILERS!!)

first of all — i am so beyond devastated that he gets killed. and not just by anyone, he gets killed BY US. THE PLAYER. WE AS THE PLAYER DELIVER THE FINAL BLOW THAT ENDS HIS EXISTENCE. not only is that very upsetting (because come on, hot devil man, obviously i don't wanna kill him??) but it also makes me feel so.. awful. like, everything about this is wrong and i hate the fact that there is no other option.

because let's review the course of the story in the house of hope:

- we barge into his house unannounced, uninvited, while he is absent

- we invade his privacy by entering what's his own personal space (yes, i know he stole it from Hope in the first place but that is not the point here — whatever his devil business is, it's still HIS, you know?? like he is a devil, this is the kinda stuff they do and honestly? i didn't want to stick my nose into it. but obviously i did because tHe sToRy etc etc. but still, it was his own thing that basically doesn't affect the player in any way so TECHNICALLY you dont have to free Hope. you can, if your character's moral compass advises so, but it doesn't affect the main plot.)

- we then proceed to walk around his house freely, lie to his archivist in order to look at the stuff we're already planning to steal

- we meet his personal incubus whom then we have the chance to either use or kill (i fought Haarlep so that's the point of view i'm looking from at this here, in which case i also robbed their corpse) and we rob his safe. and his whole bedroom actually. we read his journals. we use his bath.

- then obviously we go and rob his entire archive which includes all of his most precious possessions

- upon stealing, we slaughter every single creature in his house, fighting our way through to get to Hope's prison

- we then kill the two spectators he has guarding her (they were probably super hard to obtain??) and we just. free his prisoner. because yeah, that is the right thing to do, IM NOT SAYING THAT'S WRONG, but let's say we skip morality for a second, let's just focus on the fact that we have no ulterior motives in freeing Hope. we just wanna mess with HIS business because why not since we're already ruining all of his plans.

- and then we have the audacity to try to leave before he comes back and act like we were never there while his entire house is turned to shit.

now let's look at this list again but this time keep in mind the fact that at that point, he hasn't done A SINGLE THING to us. like, he has never harmed us, he treated us with (let's call it) "respect" and politeness, he was fine with our hesitation towards his deal and was willing to give us time. he was never aggressive towards us, he was never "the enemy".

and now you can say - okay wtf is wrong with you, that man literally admitted his intention of conquering the worlds, enslaving all mortals and basically becoming the tyrant of all while also most likely stealing everyone's souls for his own pleasure.

yes, he did, and yes, that's bad. but just because those were his intentions does not give us the right to do all that shit to him AND THEN KILL HIM. AS IF WE HAD THE RIGHT TO SERVE JUSTICE HERE?? YEAH HIS PLANS ARE EVIL BUT IT IS NOT UP TO US TO DICTATE HIS CONSEQUENCES. HIS PLANS WOULD ONLY SUCCEED IF WE GAVE HIM THE CROWN IN THE END, SO JUST- DON'T?? LIKE DO YOU GET WHAT I MEAN. IM NOT TRYING TO JUSTIFY HIS ACTIONS OR INTENTIONS, BY ALL MEANS. i'm just trying to express how weird this all made me feel because not everyone decides to play as the selfless, lawfully good hero of all, protecting the world from all evil, ever! this is roleplay, afterall!

and them obviously he comes home. he is furious, as he should be. but mostly he's betrayed because, as weird as it may be, he trusted us. he admitted to growing "quite fond of us, in his own way". he thought we were some weird sort of.. acquaintances? friends maybe? (again, i know most of our relationship with him is mostly just him manipulating us but still, it's quite clear he wasn't expecting this betrayal) and we just barged in there and disrespected him in the worst way possible. so obviously he wants to kill us now and obviously we can kill him since he's just a boss in a game. and that's what we do. and then.. that's it. we're the good guys. we ruined a man's whole career because we needed one of his toys, murdered him in his own house and just left. and we're supposed to be the good guys.

i think the source of my problem is that Raphael is never introduced as evil. we don't meet him as the big bad villain that we know we'll have to kill at some point. i swear to god, at the beginning of act 3 i trusted that man way more than i trusted the Emperor and i was so close to agreeing to his deal just because i felt like i could trust him and he would keep me safe (for some reason, let's blame it on those wonderful eyes of his).

we meet him so early on in the game and he follows through all 3 acts, making it feel like he's gonna be some key character that will matter in the end - turns out, no! we were just supposed to rob and kill him. and that's literally it. talk about wasted potential.

when i first met him i got the "unofficial narrator" vibes from him, as if he was only supposed to seem intimidating and "evil" but you could sense there was so much more to him and i was dying to see how his story would unwrap. i was so ready for a redemption act, a plot twist, anything. man was i disappointed. because how cool would it be if he turned out to be a part of the "gather your allies" quest?? imagine having him as an ally and an ACTUAL friend in the end??

and don't even GET ME STARTED on what the orb in Helsik's shop shows you after you kill him. the fact that he's not even dead yet but ABOUT TO BE DEVOURED BY MEPHISTOPHELES. ABOUT TO BE DEVOURED. BY HIS FATHER. HE. WHAT. THATS THE ENDING HE GETS. and we are the ones that served it to him when he got RIGHTFULLY pissed at us for doing all that shit to him. and im supposed to just be fine with it?? i'm supposed to feel like this was the ending he deserved and i did the right thing??

god what i would give for a different way. idk. striking a new deal with him. saving him from Mephistopheles afterwards. REDEMPTION ARC?? ANYTHING?? NO? THATS IT THEN?

now i know that you dont HAVE to kill him, you can either agree to his deal or just ignore him and the house of hope altogether. but that just defeats the whole purpose of this character?? agreeing to his deal and giving him the crown at the end results in a pretty bad ending and ignoring him means that yeah, you don't have to kill him but you also don't get anything else from him anymore. like he has no other endings, just either death or his big evil plans. and for a game with so many choices and so much branching, it just feels almost weird that that's all he is there for. then why do we meet him in act 1? why does he follow through to act 2? (yeah, astarion, i know, but i cant help but feel like they could have put a completely different way to read his runes there if they didnt want Raphael specifically to help us) WHY ARE WE ALREADY SO USED TO HIM BY THE TIME HE PRESENTS HIS DEAL? if the whole hammer business is the only thing he's in the game for, then we may have as well been introduced to him only in act 3 during the whole Voss quest. but we knew him already and he felt like some sort of a.. friend lets call it? idk. this just does not make sense to me and makes me genuinely so sad.

as i'm writing this, it's the third day after ive completed the house of hope and i literally can not think about anything else. like my mind is just going on and on about this and i cant get over it!! im actually GRIEVING a fictional devil and i dont know what to do with all these.. thoughts.

so now i actually genuinely MISS THAT MF. I MISS HIM. GIVE HIM BACK. I WASN'T DONE AND NEITHER WAS HE. PLEASE PLEASE LARIAN I CAN FIX HIM—

okay i think thats it for now. idk i wrote this so chaotically i already forgot what i said and didnt say. im just. im feeling so many things. im so fucking sad and mad that this is how it ends. rest in peace hot devil man i will never forget you.

[not-a-mimic]

why is it an important point that alan is very light sensitive and prone to migranes? other than being a disability rep for those of us who cannot function in broad daylight without sunglasses and explaining why the bright lights in aw1 are such a pain to look at (from alan's point of view) but like. it's important.

we see it in the flashback with alice where alan is hangover and seemingly has his sunglasses next to his bed already - a little weird right? and alice mentions them as well - because this is common. because he often needs them. frankly speaking from experience you don't get to the point where the sunglasses become a mandatory bedside fixture unless it's a really bad day often - which must be the case here. we also see then in 'herald of darkness' where "Dark shades could never save the day" and we see alan in shades. it's common for him. he does it often. mood! anyway mr champion of light being sensitive to light is just a funny coincidence right? wrong.

I also suspect that alan's tendency towards full outfits is also a part of this. no sane human wears that many layers in september, and alan specifically covers pretty much all the skin possible without looking weird.  also a lot of his article shots in rose'.... shrine have sunglasses and thick layers as well. this man is SENSITIVE sensitive to light and that's a coincidence I can't ignore in the remedy!verse.

alan was born (as stated in aw2) in 1977 - we don't know when, or where as he moved to new york later. his mother spent most of his childhood in psychiatric facilities, and his father is not only non existent but highly suspiously fictional (the only object we are told alan has of him is the clicker. the fucking clicker. tom zane's clicker that was definitely written into alan's life before he was born and was not a gift from his father proper. frankly we know the least about alan's childhood compared to all other remedy!verse protags - not knowing where or truly when he was born is important because it leaves options.

Light sensitive could be a coincidence - but we thought that about the nightmares too, and they turned out to be important clues. and hell-  *Scratch* is less sensitive to light than Alan is - only flashbangs and the super steong hand flares make him flinch, direct light seems fine unless super powered and normal flares are nothing. alan actively gets headaches from these things and obviously it hurts him. wtf is up with that? when the protection of the dark presence patches up your weakness you have a issue.

theory time:

we know alan is tied to this god damn lake. zane wrote it so - at very least alan was destined to fall in it at the end of aw1. but what if there is more? we also know that alan's darkness became at least the aw2 dark presence which. fine? an endless cycle of destroying yourself while under the impression that that's not yourself. we don't know if the dark presence in aw1 is also this same one, and if it isn't we now know there can be multiple dark entites (implied by Mr Scratch also). if it is then damn alan has issues.

I don't know if its just me but the fact that the small darkness within someone can be escalated out to being the whole larger dark presence at full power feels... off. that feels like it doesn't work with what we know of the entities- unless there was more darkness in alan then originally suspected fueling this presence. the strength of the dark presence born from him combined with the strength of his light sensitivity makes me very suspicious to how human he was originally, and how much of alan is just lake bullshit. if he was a creature or creation of the darkness forced into a human body (perhaps the 1976 awe the andersons fought back in brightfalls wasn't all it seemed. maybe the dark presence or something else was looking for a crack to escape through. maybe it succeeded, but was reborn as a human who was already showing signs at a young age of being light sensitive and also being a parautiltiarian, and a strong one at that.

maybe there was never a father because there was never a mother - linda wake may have found a child on the lake shore and adopted it as her own, not knowing the truth behind its origins. maybe the torchbearers who operated in brightfalls around that time were involved. maybe the reason alan and tom look identical is the dark entity needed human dna when being reborn as a human and zane was there at the right time. could be why other traits are shared, and zane foresaw and influenced the creation of the dark place to get what he wanted (after all it was borrowing from him his face and personality - at very least it could give him wiggle room to escape?)

alan always had... issues. darkness. a lot for a man. so what if its all supernatural bullshit? no one is looking too closely because there is supernatural stuff going on. I'm not sure this man is human, or at least his soul isn't and never was. some darkness wearing a human skin maybe, sensitive to the light but forced to manage it. I don't know, maybe I'm looking too much into this.

[decaf-mother]

"No Longer On Eggshells"

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MDNI

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Simon Riley x F!Reader

Civilian|Y/N

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Warnings: Abuse, Toxic Father, Written as Platonic but can be read as Romantic, Big age gap I guess.

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Walking on eggshells is how it felt in your home, always waiting for bombs to go off.

Explosive rage and fire burning at your skin, set aflame by the person who was supposed to love you.

I love you

Your father loved selfishly, he cared for himself first. He didn't care how his words dug into your heart like a dagger. Only how the world was supposed to revolve around him.

He knew how to hide this fact around others though.

••

Simon Riley- one of your father's friends. You weren't sure how they met and didn't really care.

At first you didn't think much about the ominous man, even when it was announced he was moving in next door.

Though over time you found you gravitated towards him, you weren't sure why but there was something comforting.

He found he was quite fond of your company as well, just sitting on the porch with you and talking over a cup of hot tea.

Sometimes you would just sit in comfortable silence. It never felt awkward- just peaceful.

••

You seemed to be trying to escape something.

Simon picked up on that as you came to his house often, you hid the pain well but there was still that tenseness.

That hurt he knew all too well.

He didn't want to press for information as he respected your privacy- but he wanted to know what you were running from.

Why did you always seek refuge in his home?

You felt safe with him. Rough around the edges but gentle in his own right- calm.

Not a bomb just waiting to go off at any given inconvenience.

It was nice.

••

You were home alone with your father- everything was fine. He was being nice today.

Then it happened- one of the animals did something they weren't supposed to and he erupted.

Yelling.

You hid in your room trying to drown it all out, your lungs straining feeling as though your heart would cave in.

Shakily without giving it much thought you called Simon.

"Simon... I... I'm sorry I just..."

You didn't know what to say as you fought your tears, your father's yelling in the background faintly heard through the phone.

Simon's heart sank at the noise and understood immediately, the moment he heard your distress he was slipping on his boots.

"I'll be there in a minute, love. Hold on."

He wanted to bust your dad's head in for making you feel this way.

For putting you through this.

However he was aware that wouldn't help and tried to calm his rage, true to his word he was there in a minute.

Curled up in your room you heard talking in the other room, eventually it died down.

Simon made up a lie that he had some books he wanted you to go through with him, of course your father had masked his rage the moment Simon had came to the door and knocked.

The act only made hate burn more in his core but he kept a poker face.

Once you were out of there and walking with him to his house, he glanced down at you and wrapped an arm around you.

The gesture was warm and gentle, seeing you so shaken up made his heart ache. You didn't deserve this.

You deserved to feel safe.

"You can stay with me for awhile."

"Are you sure? What would I tell my family...?"

"Just say you're staying with a friend."

He wasn't going to just leave you to fend for yourself. He'd never do that to you- he knew what that felt like and he'd be damned if you went through it too.

"Thank you..."

"No need to thank me."

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{This whole thing is just written for my own comfort based off my experiences.}

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{Written quickly on a whim based off a dream I had.}

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{ @sofasoap }

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{More Content}

[olenvasynyt]

I saw this post about how the other side treats Jurian like some sort of villain when Rhysand has committed far more atrocious acts. They treat the latter like a hero when the Jurian does less damning actions than Rhys. Your thoughts?

You seem like someone who has a good head on your shoulders and I would very much like to know your thoughts on this. thanks!

It’s funny when people hate on certain characters who are exactly like Rhys. Eris…Jurian…Tamlin tbh…The only difference is we are seeing them all from Feyre’s POV, and Feyre is very biased towards her mate vs those who are her “enemies”.

I think a lot of people who villainize Jurian bring up his comments about Elain in ACOWAR, and I think this is a perfect way to show the comparisons between what he did and what Rhys has done.

Jurian implied a few times in ACOMAF and ACOWAR that Elain is getting SAed by Illyrian males, and he says it to Lucien and Feyre’s face. Quotes:

Chapter 67 of ACOMAF:

Chapter 2 of ACOWAR:

But are these any more cruel than Rhys making comments about Lucien’s mother and Jesminda? Or going into Feyre’s head and voicing her sexual thoughts?

I would argue that they are more cruel, because Jurian is implying that others will be violent to Feyre and Lucien’s loved ones, while Rhysand is being violent himself. I should have to talk about UTM too.

And tbh I’m not damning Rhys for this, or Jurian. That would defeat the purpose tbh because both of them were playing as the bad guy. They were wearing a mask. And tbh ACOTAR Rhys with his evil mask was my favorite Rhys to read because it was just so interesting and I love a morally grey guy!

But why are we villainizing Jurian for doing the exact same thing Rhys did, and worshipping Rhys and excusing his actions at the same time?

“Oh but Rhysand was going into Feyre’s mind to taunt Tamlin! He twisted her broken arm because he’s playing as the bad guy!” And then when the topic turns to Jurian it’s “he’s a villain for saying the Illyrians would harm Elain!! It’s not true!”

Idk man…are we sure it’s not true? We have seen how SJM has written Illyrians, how they treat their own females. And maybe not Illyrians sure, but there’s also Kier’s Dark Bringers, which are implied to be even more cruel and violent. Jurian was a human general during the War and he fought with them both. And regardless of whether or not he believes he’s right or if he’s just goading Feyre and Lucien, he’s saying this because “he’s playing as the bad guy”. He’s playing as the mad man who says whatever and is goading people. But guess what? As we find out in a dramatic reveal, he is fighting against Hybern: he goes to the human lands and gets to Grayson and his father. He has sided with them this entire time, because of course he did.

I was trying to think of what else people damn Jurian for and I had to look up his whole history with Amarantha because I could not remember for the life of me

Oh? Jurian pretended to be an enemy’s lover to get information that was necessary to protect his people, his loved ones, and to get revenge against the enemy who had tortured him and did him and his people wrong? But he really hated the enemy the entire time and ended up destroying them? That sounds very familiar…

…wait! Didn’t Rhys do that with Amarantha UTM? And technically Feyre with Tamlin in ACOWAR?

We damn the morally grey who are not seen in a good light through Feyre’s eyes, but we excuse the morally grey that Feyre loves. The character bias has a lot of people in a chokehold!

Thank you for your ask! This was a very interesting topic to discuss.

[ask-postcrash-curly]

cap,

do you remember slippy? yes the fish. you had him for a year or so, you were so good at making sure it was fed, healthy, honestly, you (and your parents) took really good care of that guy.

you and Lise fought over him for the first few weeks, who’s fish he was, because of course, he can’t have two owners. she gave up after a while, you obviously loved that fish more than anything at the time.

after a while, it was revealed how sick the fish was. it wasn’t your fault, you had no way of knowing that the food you had been lovingly feeding your beloved friend was actually toxic to him.

you were distraught. (your parents were distraught, one because they couldn’t get a replacement, since the tank was in your room, you’re the one who found poor slippy, and two, because there wasn’t anywhere else in the area to buy a betta fish.) you cried and cried and cried and kept your poor mother up all night for almost a week. i remember when you told jimmy about it later. he laughed, he thought you were hyperbolic for mourning a fish so heavily.

i wonder if jimmy ever thinks of that. if he ever thinks of the sad little boy crying over a fish when he sees you. i think jimmy might have Reactive Attachment Disorder. it’s when a child doesn’t bond to their caregivers, usually on part of the caregivers. it essentially just screws the kid up for the rest of their lives, it’s honestly a pre-diagnosis for Narcissistic Personality Disorder in his case. none of that really matters in the… BIGGER PICTURE, if you will, because these are choices he made. no diagnosis can alleviate personal responsibility. i was just thinking out loud.

anyway, slippy. i actually think about that a lot. you have made your differences with jimmy visible since you met him. standing next to each other, you basically look black and white. jimmy has… very little love in his heart, let’s say. he doesn’t, and has never, thought of anyone except for himself (RAD tendencies, perhaps.), you on the other hand, you’re a good guy.

i also remember this one time in year 3, your classmates were giving speeches or something about dead relatives as an assignment , and you had to leave the room, you were crying so hard. that’s what i think is the scariest thing about this whole thing.

you’re not very… hmm… good when it comes to serious stuff, but you have a big heart, and your situation is fucking terrifying. i don’t want to exasperate it, but god damn. it’s treacherous to see someone so naively loving so badly hurt, so badly hurt by who they loved unconditionally.

i’m glad that the universe or your mind or magic or whatever brought you little friends to talk to in your head. you deserve the company, and honestly, you would have slipped into depths unforeseen even by me without them.

here’s a song written by a tree who was turned into a girl in return for making music.

yours,

🖤

Hello.

Of course I do, yeah. Not sure how good we were considering how poorly that lasted, but thanks.

Hah. Yeah. It felt like a much bigger deal back then. If we'd been a few years older we would have agreed to co-own him without a second thought.

...Mhm. I wasn't the one who bought the food, being a little kid and all, but I was so sure I should've been the one researching it and should've known better.

Did I keep her up that long? Damn. Didn't realize it was that bad. Yeah, it didn't much click for Jim. Don't remember how old we were when that conversation happened, but it was old enough that we thought we were too old to cry over little things. Have to say though, it didn't feel little when it first happened. I can still remember that, at least.

Doubt it. We met as teenagers. So he wouldn't have had any reason to fixate on that image of me before I ever knew him. Hm? I don't know. He did— have a bond, of sorts, with his parents. It just... wasn't a good one. But I guess that's the point you're making here. I don't know what Jimmy has going on in his head. I knew there was something. He knew there was something. But he didn't want there to be, so we never did anything about it. Much like how I never wanted to deal with the disassociation on my end. And they let us fly a fucking spaceship. What a world. But... yeah. He... he made his choices. I know— I know things are hard for him sometimes to wrap his head around, but that doesn't make up for what he did to her.

You do? Huh. Okay. I can't agree with you there. We're both grey. I'm not the best person and he's not a monster. You say you know everything about our lives, so you must know that. He isn't a good person, clearly, but he's a person. He's still a person. And he didn't have to be the way he is. He likes birds, did you know that? And— and dogs, he likes dogs and lizards and— he's a person, underneath all the shit he's done. He didn't have to be this way. He doesn't have to. He can stop anytime. I— I don't think he will, but he still can. Anyway, crying over a fish when I was ten doesn't make me a good person.

God, yeah, I remember that, too. I wasn't the only one who cried that day. Not by a long shot. It— it got to me, how upset they all were and how unfair it all was. But mostly I was scared that the same thing would happen to me. I'm not so selfless as you seem to think.

Mhm. I'm not. And— yes, yes, it's terrifying. But I don’t— I… Thank you.

Yeah, I’m… I’m lucky. I don’t want to think about where my mind would have gone otherwise. Don't know how it happened, but I'm very, very grateful.

...

Song is nice. Thank you.

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S1 Ep5 Musings - Claudia's POV of Lestat's Injuries

In my She Deserved Better post for S1, I focused on Claudia's POV of her life in NOLA, and how she might've perceived things, regardless of whether she had all the facts/details/nuances or not. One reason we have inconsistencies wrt Louis' injuries looking worse in S1 and Lestat's injuries looking worse in S2 is cuz Claudia's the one describing Loustat's fight in her diaries in S1, and Lestat's describing a version specifically doctored by himself and the coven/Sam/Armand/etc to use Claudia's diaries as evidence AGAINST her & Lou.

The private vs public nature of a diary entry written by a traumatized daughter watching her parents fight; versus one of the perpetrators' court testimony full of leading questions & damning implications MUST be stressed. Claudia doesn't benefit AT ALL from describing the fight in her diary that she NEVER intended ANYONE to read. The ONLY one who benefits is LESTAT, who's busy rewriting history during a PUBLIC Trial to paint himself as the victim & Claudia & Louis as these evil ungrateful children who turned on him for no reason. 🙄 Louis uses her diaries to try setting the whole record straight and own up to where he failed her as a father; but LESTAT bastardizes her diaries to make HER look bad; ain't THAT some ish. 😒 But meanwhile Claudia's POV gets constantly twisted & diminished.

TO CLAUDIA, in her POV, it makes total sense that Lestat looked fine at the end of Ep5.

Think about it: She said in 1x4 that "Daddy Lou's my favorite," because Uncle Les gets "crotchety;" Les is MEAN. She'd already clocked Les' foul temper that he kept using in 1x1 & 2x7 to explain his pisspoor behavior towards Lou & Lou's family, even during the "easy times" when she & Les were actually getting along! Then their relationship goes to utter hell after Lestat burns Charlie, and Claudia's convinced that this dude hates her guts & never wanted her.

So then she runs away from home, comes back after being viciously beaten & assaulted & raped by an evil white man, only to come home where she THINKS shes safe, only to be chokeslammed & dishragged by another evil white man who commences to beating the dog snot out of her favorite, helplessly witnessing Daddy Lou's brutalization by this same mean ole uncle (a la her "mean ole auntie who beat me cuz no one said she couldn't"), and how no one could stop Les from beating the breaks offa Lou--including her.

She then watches Les fly Lou into the effing clouds, and drop him like an egg from an airplane. Claudia could do nothing--she was LIMPING around with a BLEEDING head wound on her frikkin forehead, cuz Lestat had FOUGHT HER, too, as she tried & failed to PROTECT her favorite: Daddy Lou, who's in this mess cuz he stood up to Les to protect her & get Lestat OFF of HER when Les tried to snap her neck first! They're tryna protect EACH OTHER from THIS French a-hole who's lost his effing MIND!

Then she sees is Les floating down from the effing heavens to stare down at her as if SHE'D be next if she tried to square up against this god/demon who just turned Louis to paste, lying there with all his bones broken! SHE has a broken leg, too! Les was bleeding--SO?!

So OF COURSE Les seems uninjured to her. Cuz his injuries don't MATTER in the grand scheme of things. They don't even REGISTER to her. Oh, poor Lestat was bleeding a lot--WHO CARES? Did it take Les months & years on end relearning how to effing SEE and WALK? Did HE have to clean that nasty AF house BY HIMSELF, teaching Lou to hunt goats, all to take care of the parental figure who was supposed to be taking care of HIM, not the other way around? NO!

And yet Claudia's supposed to get the details of Lestat's bloody face correct?! WHAT!? 😂🤣 EFF HIS FACE! Compared to everything he put Louis & Claudia through, YES, to her, Les really was fine! WORSE than fine: he's strong AF, and can FLY, and god knows what else. Same way Les was all busted up in 1x6--no one cares, what OTHER horrible stuff can you do to us? Les shocked the 💩 outta them, yet morons insisted that Claudia & Louis weren't abused cuz they didn't act scared enough--WHAT?! 🤦

Also! Focusing on Claudia's POV to say Les' injuries didn't matter to her isn't the same as Santiago minimizing Lou's abuse and him being CRIPPLED either.

LES was fine, cuz he really was, COMPARED TO HIS YOUNGER & WEAKER & MORE VULNERABLE FLEDGLINGS he'd just assaulted. During the Trial, Lestat says NOTHING about him needing any prolonged period of rehabilitation or convalescence or healing--cuz his injuries are immaterial. Oh, Louis bashed his head into the coffin--AND!? 😂 Lestat focused on LOUIS being "broken," cuz LOUIS was the one whose injuries were the worst. But typical, Les' Ep5 revisit NEVER acknowledged CLAUDIA'S injuries--the injuries HE dealt to HIS OWN DAUGHTER. He mocked her burning herself "for attention," minimizing her grief & pain & misery; yet he makes this big ole hooplah over how much he cared about her in the Ep4 revisit, when HE'S the one who'd BEEN making her miserable, OMG.

We still don't know if AMC's following the book rules about the rate which vampires heal or not, cuz I said in my last rant about Les's Ep5 injuries that I DO think he really was bloodied, but it evaporated or he wiped it off or whatever by the time he was outside--cuz that's what happens in the books/film; injuries heal super quick. But I also said eff Lestat and the Rolls Royce he rode in on, cuz he should've NEVER put his hands on Claudia and IDGAF what excuses anyone vomits up to defend him. Louis' a grown man, but Claudia was LITERALLY defenseless, EFF LESTAT.

The more I think about Ep5, the more I'm like: AMC!Claudia should've been the one to slit Lestat's throat, just like in the books/film. 😒 She went way too easy on him, and yet we're supposed to sit here and GAF about this child abusing wife beater's face being bloody and call LOUIS an abuser, like, PUH-LEASE, omfg. 🙄

[angelasscribbles]

A Little Healing

Fandom: Heaven’s Secret (Romance Club)

Pairings: Adi x MC

Word Count: 1,255

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: references sexual activity

A/N: This is the follow-up to Solace and completes my ideas about the emotions surrounding their little tryst. Consider it a two-shot. I have ideas for a poly ending with all these characters but I think that will be written in third person and have a different entry point. It will probably be a lot less canon as well, but we'll see.

My other stuff: Master List.

What had I done? Agreeing to help free the boy in the tower was madness. Yet something about him tugged at my very soul. Sleep was elusive as I tossed and turned, contemplating the possible repercussions. Then thoughts of Sammy intruded upon my consciousness, and I gave up on sleep. Without bothering to change into real clothes, I slipped out of my room and down the hall. I needed to see Adi.

I knew I shouldn’t be risking it. I had barely escaped expulsion that very morning. Somehow, I had managed to squeak by without a chaperone. Shepha knows how. I deserved to have one. After all, in the short time I’d been here, I’d managed to sleep with Mimi, Dino, and Lucifer. All forbidden fruit. All tantalizing and delicious.

The demonic spark inside me danced in joy at the thought of breaking the rules and getting away with it. As much as I tried to do the right thing, sometimes the wrong thing delighted me even more. It was like I had both inside me somehow. Was that even possible?

The demons called me a goody-two-shoes, and Dino called me the most demonic angel he’d ever met.

Dino.

The thought of him sent waves of warmth cascading through me. His taste still lingered on my lips from earlier. Out of all my dalliances, he was the only one who had accepted this thing between us without reservation. Oh, he fought it in the beginning, but now? Now he was ready to go all in. The offer was on the table.

“Before I decide to run my whole life into the ground, you have to decide if you really need it. Do you understand what I’m talking about?”

I understood only too well, and I struggled mightily with myself to not ruin his life. Part of me wanted to throw caution to the wind. Why should we be bound by these arbitrary rules? I wanted him. And there was an evil little part of me that delighted in the fact that I could have him if I wanted, that he would come willingly into my arms whenever I asked, personal cost to himself be damned.

Dino would destroy himself for me if I required it. And for that reason alone, I could not ask it of him. I wouldn’t.

Then there was Lucifer. The son of Satan was hotter than any being had a right to be. He was also maddening, frustrating, and infuriating. Sending off mixed signals like a malfunctioning traffic light, he ran so hot and cold I couldn’t keep track of if he liked me or hated me from one moment to the next.

He had certainly seemed to like me last night.

And that was the reason Mimi was mad at me. Angry didn’t begin to cover it. Mimi was furious but because she was jealous that I was with Lucifer, or because she was jealous that he was with me, I wasn’t sure. Mimi herself didn’t seem to know.

I was still trying to decide if having Mimi as a roommate was a gift from heaven or a torment sent from hell. Yes, I had told her that I felt more than friendship for her because I do. But we weren’t exclusive. Thanks to these asinine rules, we couldn’t be anything officially, what we did in the privacy of our room notwithstanding. I’ve always liked both boys and girls but never has any woman set my body on fire the way she does.

She feels it too. We were drawn to each other from the very first moment. There was not an ice cube’s chance in hell of her staying mad at me for long.

Dino had forgiven me for Lucifer. Mimi would too.

I made it to Adi’s door unseen. I raised my hand to knock, then hesitated. I didn’t want to wake him. I turned to go, but before I had a chance, he called out, “Come in.”

Technically, I had fucked Adi too, but what happened between us hadn’t been about love or courtship. It had been about grief, pure and simple. At least that’s what I told myself.

We hadn’t spoken of it. What had happened in that empty ballroom had stayed there.

Until now.

Adi was perched on the edge of his bed. He looked like hell. Dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes, his hair unkempt, clothes rumpled as if he’d slept in them.

I hurried across the room and sat down next to him. “Oh, Adi, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see his face.”

The anguish in his voice was breaking me. “Aw, sweetie, Sammy wouldn’t want you to torture yourself this way.”

He stared into my eyes, trembling as he confessed, “I feel guilty. For what happened with you. It…do you think I betrayed him? His memory?”

“No.” I shook my head emphatically. “It wasn’t like that, and Sammy wasn’t like that. He would understand. He would want you to take comfort wherever and however you can.”

“But what if….what if that was just an excuse? The truth is, I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you, even though I was in love with him. What does that say about me?”

“It says you have excellent taste in both men and women.” I teased.

He made a sound that was half laugh, half sob as he wiped the tears from his cheeks. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” I chastised him. “People have desires. We aren’t meant to be emotionless machines. You’re a demon, you know this.”

He dropped his eyes to his lap as he whispered, “I hate myself for not being able to save him. For not even knowing he was in danger. For arguing with him the last time I saw him. That was his last memory of me, Vic!”

“Hey!” I pulled him into my arms and let him rest his head on my shoulder as I ran my fingers comfortingly through his hair. “He knew exactly how much you loved him. I promise.”

We clung to each other for a long while, taking solace in each other’s arms.

When we finally pulled apart, I gently placed my fingers on his temples. “Look at me, Adi.” Then I showed him all of my memories of Sammy. All the good times, all the laughter, and all the love. Before I knew it, Adi was laughing despite himself. He relaxed, a little of the misery dropping away as he shared his own memories.

We traded stories about Sammy as the night deepened. There were tears and laughter as we reminisced.

Finally, we curled up on the bed together. Emotionally wrung out, we clung to one another.

The laughter had felt good. A little like healing.

I knew it wasn’t over.

Grief comes in waves. It sneaks up when you least expect it and takes you out just when you think you’ve beaten it. But in that moment, it gripped our hearts a little less. The darkness was a little brighter and the heaviness a little lighter.

I wrapped my body around him, the big spoon to his little spoon as we drifted off to sleep, the warmth of his body soaking into me, comforting and reassuring.

My grief surrounding my losses and my confusion over what to do about my three lovers kept me from being strictly happy, but as I slipped into slumber, I was, at least for the moment, content.

[goldenstorm0]

ok I am so very very behind so prepare yourself for some incomprehensible rambling while I type while also working. sorry if nothing makes sense, I will not be finding pic references for anything sorry, honestly most of this is just for me

6) favorite soundtrack: the kid instrument version of the main theme that plays when Anya is trying her best but, is just fucking it up. I think it's cute, just poor little Anya trying her please don't make fun of her

7) Best moment: this is hard there are a lot of favorite moments. I guess when Yor and her coworkers go out drinking and Yor comes to the conclusion to kill Loid. Like baby please ily maybe drink water. I'm not the biggest fan of the "person need liquid courage to do certain embarrassing things", but damn sometimes I love drunk yor and her wild thoughts

8) Worst moment: Like when I think characters are at their lowest or what I think are badly written? I've read a few answers to this that I agree with that are badly written. Times when Loid is more apathetic than I think or want him to be, mostly random things that I would do differently. If I can go with what I think is someone's lowest, it's when Anya started to lie to her classmates after the cruise arc. Don't get me wrong, makes sense for her character, she just wants positive attention and it was not going how she thought it would, but dear god I was cringing the whole time

9) Funniest Moment: probably because I rewatched season 1 recently and this just always makes me laugh: When Loid is trying to get Anya to apologize, he uses the mirror, and her first reaction is to wonder if it's god. Just that entire sequence. Loid definitely doesn't trust his family at this point and is being a bit... micromanagey, but like, what is he trying to do. How is Anya supposed to interpret this. She's a child just give her a moment

10) Saddest moment: Twilight's backstory. I am so ready to see it animated, and by ready I mean not emotionally prepared at all. Like the chapter itself is already fantastic, I'm hoping if given the chance to cook it will break people.

11) Intense moment: multiple point in the wheeler arc. It's been mentioned several times, there was a lot going on and it had some major character moments that we are going to see effect the story down the line. I've got a lot of thoughts, mostly on what I hope are future effects from this arc, but that will take a long time to properly articulate.

12) best moment of your favorite character: look i am a slave to recency bias, but rn it's that look from loid when he sees his old friends in the butlers. Like my god my poor little baby he deserves so much love i cannot. he needs more friends I stg

13) Best moment of your two favorite characters: When Loid and Yuri fought in the sewers. It gave me life. Like lowkey almost wanted Yuri to win despite how catastrophic it would be but like. (idk maybe i want Yuri to get at least one win over loid ya know as a treat). And my god the turmoil it put them both through. Love it

14) Favorite couple: Twiyor. Honestly I'm not sure how to word my thoughts for these two. Like, and this will be confusing if you see my posts, I don't usually ship a lot. Look matey I'm pretty asexual and idk-romantic, so most romantic ships I'm not super interested in, or at least I'm not interested in the romance. I don't relate to a lot of it, I don't get it, I struggle to imagine myself in anything similar. But something about Twiyor just makes me... interested? Maybe cause they can be interpreted in a few different ways, maybe cause I see it as more for a "these two are becoming friends/family" kind of way, not necessarily strictly romantic. Idk, I have no idea why I like it so much tbh, I just do, it's gonna take a lot of ruminating before I can have a clear answer.

And that's it! I caught up! Next challenge, keeping caught up (impossible)

[loregoddess]

not a whole lot of observations before I go and fight the final boss (who I think I'm gonna curbstomp anyhow despite not fighting the superboss first and not having yet used any nuts, I guess lv 70 which is my default "this seems like a nice level to be at for endgame stuff" is high enough to kill minor bosses w/out them ever getting a chance to attack once), but I did notice a few things while playing though the final chapter stuff since I decided to actually walk around instead of fast-travelling like I did my first run...

you know that kinda creepy girl who stands outside of the inn in Crackridge at night who, if spoken to, runs off in the direction of the Fellsun Ruins? Yeah, so turns out she is not there during the final chapter sequence at all. I'm gonna head back to Crackridge after kicking Vide's ass just to see if she returns or not.

checked a few of the towns and it seems most of the NPCs don't really...seem to notice the unnaturally long night going on. I mean sure you get some updated dialogue after relighting the Flamechurch Flame from the NPCs, but generally? no unique dialogue. which I mean, it would have been a developmental nightmare to have unique dialogue for every NPC during this sequence, but it's still hmm

ALSO I finally figured out (I think) why Castti is the only traveler to be directly attacked by Vide and nearly overtaken (her and Ochette's crossed paths ch2), and that's because she was the only one of the main characters to have read the Book of Night (when she met Claude with Trousseau when they were in Lostseed). It occurred to me while I was reading Tanzy's journal and Tanzy wrote that she had read the book, and I had gone down the TV Tropes rabbit hole on Octo2 a few nights ago and the people writing those pages seem to think that what caused Tanzy's death was similar to what Castti experienced in the second crossed paths, and so now I'm wondering if the Book of Night has anything to do with Vide being able to shadow-eat people. Like, Hikari's the only other traveler to battle with the shadow, but it's very much something inside him and according to what's been said about the bloodline of Ku, the shadow wouldn't have killed him had it overtaken him, it would have just used him as a puppet. So yeah, maybe there's something here...or maybe I'm overthinking it.

I absolutely annihilated the Grotesque Monster and Arcanette battles both in three turns, neither got a chance to attack, Temenos dealt 86k+ damage in one. This is why I think I'm gonna waltz through the Vide fight again, esp. since I know the battle gimmicks and am preparing accordingly

I have this theory brewing that D'arqest may have been stopped by eight travelers during his time, based on some things said by the Moonshade Order major villains (Arcanette mostly), and bc I took a good look at the "beginning of Ku" mural again and counted eight red squares gathered around the image of the Flame, and what Hikari said about the first ruler of Ku, and the implied history of the Lumina clan having once fought against the darkness, and a few other details I'm not recalling at the moment, but it would be very hmm-worthy if it pans out for anything. CotC lore implies Beowulf had probably seven other companions and traveled across Orsterra, so it would be an interesting recurring Octopath Theme if it pans out in any way.

everything about Ori in this part of the game still gets me like, even knowing what was gonna happen, I was still like, "holy shit." Love Ori, but damn girl.

actually despite there being very little writing overall for the final chapter sequence, I just really love this part of the game. Like it's not even that I think it's well-written or challenging in an interesting way or anything, I just love the vibes a lot I guess. Absolutely haunting story segment for me.