#where did i put. hang on did i post it yet somewhere i had a moment about the couch poem i’ve got to find it i’m out here like i refuse

[genshinluvr]

Smug-a-Saurian(s)

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: After the failed tour of Natlan, you decided to return to Natlan to complete the tour! However, you end up bringing something back to the abode. Was it intentional? No. Do you plan on letting it happen? Sort of, but you knew better.

Note: This is a spin-off mini-fic of The Nation of War fanfic! I was going to write something longer, but due to my impending night shift for work (tomorrow), I was not able to. My brain has been in shambles the entire week due to work preparations and the passing of Liam Payne (my 11-year-old self is incredibly heartbroken and in tears). Idk how my new work schedule is going to impact my updates, but we'll have to wait and see :< Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (also Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: I wrote this with a lot going on in my head, so this fic is most definitely ass 🥲

Word Count: 3k

It’s a peaceful day at the abode, and everyone is lounging in the estate, keeping to themselves and occasionally chatting with one another. It’s a quarter to eleven in the morning, and yet the others haven’t seen you at all today. Your bedroom is vacant, and your shoes aren’t on the shoe rack close to the front door, so it’s safe to assume that you’re currently out and about somewhere in Teyvat. Do they know where you’re at? Not really, but they assume it’s Natlan since Mualani and Kachina wanted to hang out with you today. 

“Who gets up that early to hang out with people?” Itto mumbles, waddling into the living room with a dramatic sigh. “I miss my Onikabuto booboo bear!” He pouts, plopping on the couch beside a mildly miffed Scaramouche.

“If I had to deal with you every day, I would leave to hang out with other people at the ass crack of dawn, too,” Scaramouche grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

Itto and Scaramouche glare at one another while Ayato sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Footsteps echo throughout the estate as Gorou walks down the stairs, rubbing the back of his head. The tension once present in the living room evaporates as the men wait for Gorou to speak.

About ten minutes ago— it’s probably less than that— Gorou volunteered to check your room to see if there’s a way to pinpoint when you left the estate. The men have nothing against you leaving the estate and abode whenever you want, but you leaving the abode at an ungodly time is something you would never do (unless you have something really important to do, like having to show up to the Akademiya to prepare for your research presentation).

Thoma stands up, approaching Gorou anxiously. “So? Did you find anything?”

Gorou sighs, propping his hands on his hips. “Their bed is moderately warm, so that means [Y/N] didn’t leave the estate at the crack of dawn. However…” Gorou trails off, stroking his chin. “That makes me wonder how they were able to leave the abode undetected.”

Again, the men aren’t against you leaving the estate and abode alone. You have as much freedom as any other person on Teyvat. What they’re concerned about is your safety— totally not because they’re clingy and want to be around you 24/7! However, they can’t really speak on Zhongli and Neuvillette’s behalf, considering the two men became quite clingy (well, even clingier than usual) after the unsuccessful tour around the Nation of War. 

Paimon sighs, rolling her eyes. “Don’t worry about them! I’m sure they’re fine somewhere! If you guys are worried, why not communicate your worries with them? Isn’t that how relationships work?” Paimon asks, propping her hands on her hips as she bobs up and down in the air.

Everyone in the room nods, agreeing with Paimon. While they could communicate their worries to you, they don’t want to put any pressure on you after voicing their concerns. Plus, what’s there to worry about? You’re hanging out with your new friends! It’s not like you’re going to be smuggling a wild animal back to the abode or doing some illegal activities while on Teyvat, right?

Meanwhile…

You stand outside the teapot, debating on what you’re going to do with an army of issues before you. You bite your nails and glance at the teapot, then at the Saurian Whelps standing before you, staring at you expectantly. You’re so fucked. You went to Natlan to hang out with Mualani and Kachina to complete the tour of Natlan— of course, Kinich and Ajaw did show up for the first thirty minutes, but they left because Ajaw was being a little shithead that Kinich had to leave earlier than planned.

After hanging out with Kachina and Mualani, you head back to where the teapot is resting. Dakarai is the one to walk you back to the abode because he’s an absolute sweetheart and was eager to spend some extra time with you after not seeing you for who knows how long. However, on your way back to the teapot with Dakarai, you and the Tepetlisaur Whelp failed to notice certain creatures following from a safe distance. When you notice them, it is already too late to try to outrun them because you and Dakarai are surrounded by Saurian Whelps. Dakarai stands before you, curiously inspecting the other Saurians surrounding both of you.

“I don’t think I can bring you guys with me,” you say, tapping your feet on the ground as you try to remain strong in the face of Saurian Whelps.

The Tepetlisaur Whelp tilts its head, gazing at you curiously. You can see a visible question mark appearing above its head. You sigh, rubbing your temples. You’re trying your best to hold in your squeals. The Saurian Whelps are too cute, but at the same time, you cannot bring them into the abode. Saurians are from Natlan, and you don’t know if they can survive in an environment that isn’t Natlan. But how can you not bring them back to the abode with you!? Look at their little faces! They’re literally giving you the puppy dog eyes, almost as if they’re begging you to take them with you!

You turn to look at Dakarai— Aether and Paimon’s Tepetlisaur Whelp companion. “What do I do, Dakarai? I can’t bring them back because I don’t think the abode is a suitable environment for them.”

Dakarai roars in response.

You shake your head. “I don’t know if the abode is suitable for you either, Dakarai. But I guess we won’t know unless we try, right?”

Dakarai roars again in response, flailing his arms around cutely. You hold back a squeal and pat Dakarai’s head instead, hoping that’ll stop you from wanting to bring him into a tight hug. The other Saurians around you and Dakarai roar and whine in response, almost as if they’re demanding you to give them attention.

The Yumkasaur Whelp hops toward you, tilting its head to the side with a questioning gaze. “?” 

You shut your eyes and turn around, hoping that will make you become invisible to the eyes of the Saurian Whelps (it doesn’t). Surely, you can enter the abode without the Saurians trying to go with you, right?

The warm sun of Natlan beams down at you, heating the back of your head the longer you have your back facing the Saurian Whelps. If only Mualani, Kachina, and Kinich were here with you, then maybe they could lure the Saurians away. Unfortunately, it’s you against the world and the Saurian Whelps. Of course, Dakarai is with you, but you’re sure that he wants to come along with you to the abode. 

“Fuck it!” Without thinking, you touch the teapot with your eyes closed, not wanting to see the outcome of what you just did. 

When you’re finally in the abode, you open your eyes to see the beautiful estate where you and your beloveds reside. You nearly sigh in relief, glad that you’re finally home and can finally take a nap after who knows how long you’ve been gone. You stretch as you walk to the front door of the estate, listening to the birds chirping in the distance. 

Just as you reach for the doorknob, the door swings open, and you come face-to-face with Diluc, who sighs in relief when you two make eye contact. Without hesitating, Diluc pulls you into his arms and buries his face into your hair.

“Welcome home, angel. We’ve been worried about you,” Diluc whispers into your hair, tightening his arms around you. 

You peek at Diluc, wrapping your arms around him. “Sorry for worrying you and everyone else. I was in Natlan completing the tour with Mualani and Kachina!” You say, pulling away from the hug. “Kinich and Ajaw were also there, but they left early because Ajaw was being mean.” You scratch the back of your head.

You and Diluc walk into the estate, where the others are waiting for you. The minute twenty-seven pairs of eyes land on you, everyone stands up and nearly lunges at you. The first person to get to you is, of course, Childe. The man has his arms wrapped around your shoulders, rubbing his cheek up against yours.

“Snookums!!! I haven’t seen you at all today, and this is how you greet me!?” Childe exclaims, pouting at you.

You pat Childe’s head, letting him cling to you. “I didn’t even get to greet you today, Childe. In fact, I barely entered the living room, and you’re already on me.” You reply, poking his cheek.

After coaxing Childe to release you from his iron grip, Childe reluctantly releases you after guiding you to the couch. Zhongli walks over to you, handing you a cup of tea. You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to Zhongli before taking a sip of the warm drink. 

Heizou sits across from you, bouncing his right leg with excitement as he leans forward. “So? How was Natlan? Did you see anything cool or interesting there?” His gorgeous eyes shimmer with curiosity. 

You nod, taking another sip of your tea as Neuvillette holds out a plate of macaroons toward you. You take a pink macaroon from the plate and take a bite of the sweet treat. Now that you think about it… you didn’t have breakfast before leaving for Natlan— nor did you eat anything while in Natlan. Then again, you didn’t feel hungry because you were so focused on exploring the new region with your new friends. 

You eating one macaroon ended up being the entire plate of macaroons. Neuvillette looks almost horrified as he watches you scarf down the sweet treats within five minutes. Wriothesley chuckles and pats your head, watching you happily sip your tea afterward.

“You’re quite hungry, aren’t you? Don’t tell me your tour guides didn’t take you out to eat,” Wriothesley teases, wiping the crumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

You lick your lips and press your lips into a thin line before answering, “They didn’t, but that’s because I was so engrossed in wanting to explore the region that I completely forgot about needing to eat. But! But… I wasn’t feeling hungry at that time.”

Xiao suddenly appears beside you, his eyebrows furrowing. “You didn’t see that Kinich person, did you? I don’t like him,” Xiao states, crossing his arms over his chest before turning his head away from you.

You blink at Xiao, unsure of how to answer him. You technically did see Kinich, but again, it was only for a brief moment because of Ajaw’s lack of behavior. 

“Kinich and Ajaw were at the tour, but they left early! It was just me, Mualani, and Kachina! Oh! And Dakarai!” You reply, nodding.

Xiao huffs, still not pleased to hear your response. Ever since the day of the failed tour around Natlan, Xiao has been voicing his distaste for Kinich’s relic companion. More so, the relic’s unnecessary and rude comments are aimed at you. If Ajaw isn’t making fun of you, he’s making fun of the men and their taste in a partner— or the lack of taste. You appreciate the men coming to your defense, but Ajaw’s comment doesn’t hurt you as much as it should. The relic reminds you of a younger sibling who loves roasting their siblings. Or the spoiled youngest child who gets what they want no matter what— that is what Ajaw reminds you of. 

“Anyway, I’m finally home now, and we can relax in the living room together!” You say, placing the half-empty teacup on the coffee table. 

You lean back on the couch and yawn; the urge to take a nap is slowly taking over. Before Childe can get the chance to have you snuggle up against him, Lyney tugs you in his direction and has you resting your head on his chest. Childe grumbles, shooting a glare in Lyney’s direction, only to receive a shit-eating grin from him. 

Tighnari and Gorou’s ears twitch at a strange sound. The two men lock gazes, not saying a word. Everyone in the room is migrating to where you’re sitting while both Tighnari and Gorou remain standing in their spots. Gorou points at the entrance, wordlessly asking if Tighnari heard the same thing as he did. Tighnari nods, confirming Gorou’s suspicion. 

You peek from Lyney’s chest, rubbing your eyes with the heel of your hand. “Tighnari? Gorou? Are you guys okay?”

Gorou and Tighnari stare at you. Tighnari smiles and nods. “Yes, we’re okay! But do you guys hear that?”

Everyone falls silent, trying to listen for whatever Tighnari and Gorou supposedly heard. Coming from the entrance of the estate, if you listen closely, you can hear faint scratching. It’s almost like something is trying to burrow into the floor of the estate but is unable to. Then, the sound of a familiar roar snaps you out of your sleepy haze. You sit up, looking around frantically at everyone in the room.

“Oh, no. Don’t tell me…” you trail off, getting up from the couch and making your way to the front door.

Dainsleif raises his eyebrows at you. “[Y/N]... do you have something you want to tell us?”

You nervously laugh, “I have no idea what you guys are implying.”

It’s a lie. You actually do know what they’re implying, but you’re really hoping that whatever you assume is trying to burrow under the estate is the complete opposite of what you’re actively trying to avoid.

Before you can reach the door, Al Haitham wraps his arms around your waist while Kaveh walks to the door to see what the commotion is. When the door swings wide open, all you see is a small army of Saurian Whelps at the entrance. 

“Dear Archons…” you whisper, covering your mouth.

Kaveh looks at you with wide eyes. “Did you smuggle Saurian Whelps into the abode!?” He demands, crossing his arms over his chest. “Is that why you were out in Natlan for so long?!” 

Al Haitham leans over and stares at your face for a moment. You can’t help but feel like a specimen being examined by scientists with the way Al Haitham’s looking at you. Archons, you can just die right now. 

Al Haitham sighs, shaking his head. “Given their facial expression, I highly doubt they smuggled Saurians into the abode. However, it seems like [Y/N] was very aware of the Saurian Whelps following them to the abode.”

You hear a small roar coming from the entrance. Your head perks up, and you see Dakarai at the entrance. When making eye contact with you, Dakarai shakes with excitement and waves at you before barreling past Kaveh and toward you. 

“Dakarai! It’s good to see you again!” Paimon exclaims happily, waving at the Tepetlisaur Whelp.

After seeing Dakarai enter the estate with ease, the other Saurian Whelps follow not long after. The Saurian Whelps surround you and Al Haitham, roaring and mewing with excitement. You go limp in Al Haitham’s arms, sighing in defeat.

So much for returning to the abode without the Saurians coming along; it’s not like you’re against the Saurians becoming residents of the beautiful abode that you share with the loves of your life. However, the people who do mind are your beloveds, and seeing the looks on their faces is concerning.

The majority of them look baffled, and then there’s Zhongli and Neuvillette. While they’re both masters of masking their emotions (most of the time), you can see slight annoyance on their faces. The once clear sunny skies of the abode have quickly turned to a dark gray sky with thunder crackling in the distance. 

Kaeya snorts, shaking his head. “Perhaps [Y/N] wanting to complete this tour around Natlan is another excuse for them to see the Saurian Whelps,” Kaeya teases, pinching your cheeks with a smirk.

Zhongli pinches the bridge of his nose. “We need to have a serious conversation about smuggling creatures into the abode, dearest. While I understand that is not your intention, you still manage to unintentionally bring a wild animal to the estate.”

You open your mouth to protest, but seeing the looks on other people’s faces makes you shut your mouth. The thunder in the distance grows louder and louder with each passing minute. You look at Neuvillette, who casually tucks his hair behind his ears, trying to act nonchalant about the entire situation. 

You squeak, “Neuvillette?”

Neuvillette clears his throat. “I agree with Zhongli. We need to have a serious conversation about this situation. While it’s not your intention to bring back fifteen wild Saurian Whelps to the abode, they are here illegally.”

Oh, shit. For once, Neuvillette isn’t calling Zhongli Deus Auri. You’re fucked. You’re going to get scolded by Zhongli and Neuvillette for unintentionally smuggling Saurians into the abode. The Saurian Whelps whimper, huddling close to you while shivering with fear the longer Zhongli and Neuvillette furrow their eyebrows.

You raise an index finger. “Before you guys scold me for something I didn’t do intentionally… can we pretty please keep the Saurian Whelps? Maybe we can get a license? I don’t know how it works in Natlan, but I can do my research, and then maybe, just maybe, we can let them live in the abode?”

The glares you receive from Zhongli and Neuvillette are bone-chilling, sending shivers down your spine. You sigh in defeat, pouting. You slowly turn to the Saurian Whelps, trying not to melt under the puppy dog eyes the Saurian Whelps are giving you. So much for trying to convince your beloveds to let you keep Saurians in the abode.

“If I can’t have Saurian Whelps in the abode, then can we have Ajaw instead?” You joke.

“Absolutely not.”

“Are you crazy?”

You pat the top of Dakarai’s head as he continues to examine his surroundings. If you can’t have an army of Saurian Whelps in the abode, will they make an exception for Dakarai? After all, he is Aether and Paimon’s Saurian companion.

Note: I just fell to my knees. I am finally done writing this fanfic, and it's nearing 3 AM 😭 I officially will not be able to write or post fanfics at my usual time (in the middle of the night) because of my new work schedule 😔 I will make an announcement regarding that in the morning, and it will be pinned. I will make a new navigation post later— it'll hopefully be more organized than my current navigation post. Anyway, To all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

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Read more of my works on my Grand Masterlist, which contains every masterlist I have created! | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories there, too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[betterbooktitles]

"I’m certain I’m not the only millennial who feels we as a nation have taken a dizzying turn when it comes to drugs. I remember a uniformed police officer showing up once a week in 5th Grade (a year before Sex Ed) to explain how to avoid buying and taking drugs. Luckily, I already knew the dangers of the drug trade because I had seen The Usual Suspects. I knew cocaine was a bad thing to buy, sell, or steal, especially from a drug kingpin. The D.A.R.E. program, however, let me know how important it was to say no to anything fun, including alcohol. At least until I understood a little algebra first. We did role-playing exercises where we walked one by one toward the portly police officer and he casually asked if we wanted to hit a mimed joint with him. All we had to do was say “no” and walk to the other side of the room, defying the only rule I knew about improv. We wrote essays about how important it was to preserve our pristine bodies and minds, obviously unsullied since we had yet to take the class teaching us how puberty was going to defile them both. I’m still mad that my friend Nicole’s essay beat mine in a contest, and she got to read hers in front of the whole school all because she had the benefit of an older brother who took too much acid and sat in her room all night talking about why the existence of light proved God was real. My essay about a time I saw my friend’s dad drink a beer and then drive his truck somewhere was also good! We signed pledges to enter the new millennium drug-free. We took the red pencils that said “Friends Don’t Let Friends Do Drugs” and sharpened all of them down to say “Let Friends Do Drugs,” “Friends Do Drugs,” “Do Drugs,” and simply “Drugs.” Despite that little rebellious act, my friends and I spent a solid six months swearing we’d never put any harmful substance into our bodies besides every form of candy available.

Imagine how I feel now as a D.A.R.E. graduate becoming my dad’s drug dealer. It’s less thrilling than I thought it would be. Between my father’s warning not to hang around one specific neighborhood in Cleveland as a kid and nearly every TV show about drugs, I thought I’d always be buying marijuana from an intimidating dude who definitely had a gun and would use it immediately if he thought I was wearing a wire. Instead, I now buy marijuana from a well-lit storefront that looks like the Apple Store. I’ve even gone to a place where a guy with an iPad explained what each available strain would do to me. I buy what sounds good with all the confidence of a man pointing at items on a menu written in a language he can’t read. I put it all in a cardboard box. I place a book on top. I mail the box to my dad from my local post office. I tell myself the book is to hide the contraband crossing state lines, but in truth, the book is what clears my conscience. I want to send my dad something edifying while also sending him the drug that all of America worried would make me unable to read if I tried it once. The unrequested book is a red herring to distract from the vice, like when you were young and didn’t want to buy condoms outright at the store so you cushioned them between a pack of peanut M&Ms and a magazine. Hmm, what else did I need, — right, while I’m here — might as well pick up a few condoms.

Right as marijuana becomes legal in most states, I’m about done with the drug. I’ve had three good times on edibles, and one of them was when I felt nothing and fell asleep at 9:30 PM. I’m flabbergasted that my dad likes edibles. He seems to be a man free of anxiety. Case in point, I once brought him some THC lozenges to our summer holiday in Chautauqua, and around dinner time I told him “You might want to only take half of what I gave you” to which he replied, “I took it hours ago.” He was stoned and no one noticed.

While I’m stuck in my head, stoned or sober, wondering why I didn’t take some acting gig 15 years ago, wondering if I’ll ever make enough money, worrying I’m doing everything wrong including in this moment as I write this sentence, my dad is enjoying himself.

Judith Grisel, the author of Never Enough: The Neuroscience And Experience of Addiction, describes using marijuana as throwing “a bucket of red paint” on your brain. She was approaching the stimulant clinically in terms of how it differed from the laser focus of other drugs (THC reacts with many receptors in the brain, cocaine focuses on one), but now every time I smoke, I think of the red paint metaphor. While other people seem able to crank an entire joint and do insanely complicated stuff like function at their jobs, I am reduced to a gelatinous blob, on top of which my eyes and brain are navigating a dream state that, like many dreams, isn’t all that interesting the next day. Mostly, I get high and can’t decide what I want to watch on TV or what video game I want to play, I realize how hungry I am, and then I fall asleep with cereal still stuck to my teeth. Pot, for me, is like the squid ink hitting the screen in Mario Kart: I can still see where I’m going, but everything gets a little harder to do, and the panicked half-blindness makes everything slightly more chaotically fun."

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An essay on Claire Dederer's book Monsters and movies made by monsters.

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Writing mistresses.

[olivianyx]

A FEW UPDATES ON MY JOURNEY 🎀

Sooooo there's still more I've manifested!

🎀 money, money, money, must be funny in a rich mans world~ lmaoo just more and more money everyday!

🎀 I stopped listening to subliminals for a while and I saw major results like my hair growing over an inch, my lashes getting longer and prettier, my weight going down, and I grew an inch again y'all 😭 I'm 173cm rn 😩 I wanna be tall as my boyfriend gojo hehe 🦋🦋 but not exactly tall as him but a lil shorter lol then I can't wear heels 😭 or my boy be looking like my son instead of my bf lmaoo

🎀 minimalist skincare products!

🎀 my skin tone lightening up a bit 🍃 like I didn't notice it until my family members and peers complimented me.

🎀 my grades going high again!

🎀 okay this one's a bit personal, but lemme get this straight. I mentioned in my last success story post that I got closer to crush... When in fact I wasn't even in love with her 😭 that was just admiration, not love. I realised my worth, and I stopped putting efforts, now the ship has sunk. She isn't bothered anymore, and me too since I was the only one obsessed. No offence but she wasn't worth my time. So I decided to spend it on satoru instead 🎀🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

🎀 my parents becoming more lenient nowadays 🙌

🎀 I've been getting more free foods and snacks! People love to hang out more with me! 🤍

🎀 my singing skills improving! I wanted to sound like lana, it's not exactly like hers but I'm getting there!

🎀 there's still more I'm just lazy to type lol

MY RESPAWN JOURNEY

So I haven't yet respawned yet since I'm too attached to this reality. I'm still scripting a custom dr that I wanna respawn and also my jjk dr too. So when I finish (idk myself when I'm gonna finish lol) I will surely respawn.

But don't worry! This account will be run by another consciousness that I replace. I know I manifested stuffs here, I enjoy and all, but deep deep down I realised that I never wanna be here. I belong to the lands somewhere far away, not in this city 😭 I'm just too attached to this reality that's making me feel guilty to leave.

I'm working on it tho. I mean I deserve everything, why would I feel guilty for having what I want, right? I've encountered the worst traumas and situations here, yet something inside me is telling me not to leave this reality, while also feeling that I don't deserve to be here, and somewhere better where I have everything I want.

I remember bawling my eyes out cus I don't wanna be here anymore, yet feeling guilty to leave. Everyone has a journey, so do I. I know this ain't gonna be longer and ik it's already done, I'll respawn once my script is done. Keeping this in my mind, I'm spending my last few days here being happy and I'm doing everything I want so I don't feel something irrelevant while I leave. I wanna leave this place in peace.

With that being said, y'all deserve everything too! Don't hold yourself back, sometimes the ego holds us back, but don't let it take control and keep going! You're the God of your reality. So why not take that chance and stop being lazy? I mean it's the life of your dreams and some of y'all aren't even putting 0.000000001% effort? It's not the physical effort but the mental work, everything is the mental work and you don't even need to lift a finger. I mean it's not that hard focusing on your 4d. I agree for some people that have mental health issues like adhd, aphantasia, anxiety, and all. Even I had them too! I had avpd, anxiety, low self esteem, depression, maladaptive daydreaming, and ptsd, but still I did it while staying with a toxic narcissistic family that cares only about themselves! They who were constantly nagging me every 5 mins, now are quiet and unbothered. Why? Because I changed the version of me who was thinking that they were toxic, and I assumed they were lenient, and now they are. Honey, it's not hard at all. You're making it hard for yourself. So just stop with the bullshit and go live your dream life!

- Olivia 🎀

[nejjirez]

"MINE"

pairing: e!42 miles x blk! fem reader

genre: fluff , protective miles

miles = dark purple you = pink (naisa is you)

a/n: whew lawrd i got so many damn books to post .. yall in for some treats good JESUS , but trust ima get yall requests soon i promise

-----------------------------------♡-----------------------------------------

you were walking back home from the store , it wasn't too far away from where you live , so walkin won't a problem .

on the way back you heard your phone buzz , taking it out of your pocket to see who texted you. "1 new message from: Miless 💘."

miles was texting you to ask where you were at , worried on why you weren't home yet since he was at your house. you texted back smiling , reassuring him that you'll be fine , and your're on the way. butttt miles looked over that , and face timed you.

when you answered , he was side eyeing the camera , on the game that he set up in your room. "didnt i tell you to ask me before u use my tv?" you sighed , looking around your room to see what else he had done.

"yeaa sorry ma , my ass was bored waitin on u , but where you at?" miles fully turned his head towards the camera , squinting trying to make out where you were at.

you put your face all up in the camera , makin faces and laughing. "ma im not playin , where are you" he put his controller down , speaking in a more serious tone which made you back up from the screen.

"chill , im on my way ri-" suddenly , a boy who looked about your age came up to you , cheesin away. you kept walking , not interested.

the boy started walking behind you , trying to talk to you which .. didnt play out well. "yoo u from here?" he managed to catch up to you , trying to walk beside you.

miles heard the male's voice which caused his head to shoot towards the phone , picking it up looking around your surroundings.

"yea , i'm from my man's place , move along ." you snarled , walking faster looking at your phone to see miles with the most annoyed facial expression ever.

"aye not gon lie he prolly a bitch like most niggas round here , i could fs do better lil ma" this was miles last straw .. womp womp.. "oh hell na ." miles said before taking a good look at where you were , and hanging up.

the boy heard the voice coming from your phone as you walked faster , causing him to laugh. "aye was that him? see he prolly mad at u now , come fuck wit a real nigga" at this point you were irritated , not wanting miles to be mad at you because someone else tried talking to you.

"nigga fuck off , been said i got a man thats yo cue to leave . actually that ain't even my man , we married. so bye.." you went to imsg on your phone trying to text miles to get this boy away from you as soon as possible , he was pissin you off at this point.

miles texted you back with a simple "omw mami." which caused you to look around , seeing if he was anywhere in sight.

after a few minutes of this bum still tryna talk to you and follow you , you felt hands around your waist walking with you , causing you to quickly turn around trying to move until you noticed it was your bf , miles.

"the fuck?? this yo man?" he looked miles up and down , which pissed the both of yall off. you opened your mouth to say something , but before you could talk , miles did.

"nah nigga im her husband , i know u heard her say she taken so why u still tryna fw her? take yo big boosie fade head ass on somewhere bruh and getchu a retwist , yo ass got butterfly locs atp" miles laughed a lil at his own joke , meanwhile you were crackin tf upp

the boy side eyed yall , and walked off mad asf , you and miles were still crackin up at the back of this nigga head , retwists do not exist to him

"ight ight jokes aside , you lmk when shit like that happen we cant have niggas lookin like THAT tryna fuck wit you naisa" he wiped a few lil tears from his eyes due to laughing , you did the same.

"nigga did not give up.." you thought of the things the boy said , making you cringe.

miles put his arm around you , walking back home and kissed you on your forehead.

"mine."

[localplaguenurse]

Falling Head over Heels (Pantalone x Male Reader) pt 6

So ever since my last update, I've gotten a new laptop because deadass the same day I posted chapter 5 like "oh hopefully I'll get it back soon," they told me my old acer aspire is so old they don't even make the parts for it anymore. This has nothing to do with the fic, I just thought it was funny.

Notes: still sfw, semi dysfunctional/controlling family dynamics (I assure you they will get progressively worse), ableism in the form of reader being coddled and patronized by his parents. Check masterlist for previous parts, will eventually make an actual masterlist for this fic.

@thedeimoshimself @eli-chris

You did not immediately tell your parents about your interaction with Pantalone when you finally returned, as once again they were in the midst of an argument. Your mother’s scoldings about how your father knows better, and your father’s arguments about how you’re a grown man who should fend for himself by now could be heard the moment you stepped through the door. Colleen gives you an awkward, sympathetic smile as you shuck off your coat. Before the maid can hang it up, you fish the letter from your pocket, and seeing your name in the Guuji Yae’s handwriting fills you with nervous excitement once more. 

You can’t really hear the fighting from your study. If you try to listen, you can, but otherwise it is very peaceful. You open the letter again and set it next to your typewriter, while also tucking the briefcase with your manuscript under your desk. You proceed to load your typewriter, ready to type a response, when it occurs to you that maybe you should hand write this letter. Would it be disrespectful to just type a letter? Maybe. A handwritten letter is more personal, after all. 

By the time you finish your letter, there are six other letters crumpled up in your bin, and you hear your mother’s voice informing you that it’s dinner time. The tense atmosphere of dinner keeps you from talking, let alone telling your parents about Pantalone. You really don’t want to set off yet another argument with how much these two have grown apart. As horrible as it is to think or say, you will not be surprised if the word divorce comes up in their next fight, and that next fight is probably tomorrow. 

This tense silence continues the next day, and the day after that, until a full two weeks have passed where you have not heard a single argument. Not because your parents made up, mind you, but because they have barely spoken to each other. Nothing beyond standard small talk or informing the other person about meals or receiving something in the mail. The air is oppressive, and you try not to let it show how much it is starting to stress you out. Instead, you have been waiting patiently for a letter back from the Guuji, hoping to surprise them with some good news for once. 

(You’ve also been replaying your last interaction with Pantalone in your head, because you know you did not mishear him.)

The silence breaks when your father throws your bedroom door open one morning, when you are in the midst of getting changed out of your sleepwear. 

“You!”

You jump, having just put on your pants. Your face heats up in embarrassment. “Would it kill you to knock?” you snap. It’s not even ten. 

You hear your mother somewhere behind your father. “Darling, calm down.”

Your father storms inside and an envelope is shoved in your face. “Do you care to explain this?”

You step back and take the envelope. You rub your eyes, shoot your dad a dirty look, and read the envelope. That’s your name and address, but you don’t recognize the return address in the corner. The name, however, you do recognize, and your father does too.

“Why is it that I haven’t had contact with the Regrator in two weeks,” your father asks, “but when I finally get a letter back, it’s for you?”

“Yes, why is Pantalone writing to you?” your mother asks in turn. 

Your brow furrows, and with your father glaring daggers at you, you break the seal on the back of the letter. Before you can actually open it, your dad snatches the letter from you. He tosses the envelope aside and unfolds the paper within. 

“Hey!” You grab your father’s arm. “If you’re going to barge into my room, at least let me read my own mail!”

“There has to be some mistake,” your father says. “There’s no reason for the Regrator to talk to you.”

“While I disagree with his approach,” your mother says, “your father has a point.”

“Maybe if you let me read my mail, I could tell you,” you reply sarcastically. Your father rolls his eyes but hands the now crinkled letter back to you. You straighten it out and let your eyes scan over the words.

Your father’s voice is impatient. “Well?” 

You squint. “It’s an invitation.”

“An invitation?” your mother asks.

“What the hell for?” your father asks.

“An invitation for tea,” you answer, “for… tomorrow, at two.”

“Anything else?”

You flip the paper over. It’s blank. You flip it back over. “No, it’s just tea at two at his estate.”

“No, you fool,” your dad says, pulling the letter out of your hand again. “I meant if he mentions your sister or myself, because I find it hard to believe he’d invite you to his estate.”

You cross your arms. “Why’s that?”

“Your father means it’s odd that you would be invited over when you are not, ah, working with him,” your mother says, making up an excuse on the fly. “You’re not working with your father and sister, so if you were to be invited over, then that would include the rest of the family.” Though she’s out of your limited line of vision, you know she’s glaring at your father based on the way he averts his eyes from you.

“Then why is it addressed to him? It doesn’t address anyone else in the family.”

“I’m not sure, dear. Perhaps there’s been a mistake?”

“Pantalone would not make a mistake like this. Perhaps the post office lost our invites, but not his.”

“Or he just invited me,” you butt in.

Your father gives you a look. 

“Think about it,” you say, “if we all got an invite, surely mine would have said something about it, right? Hope to see you and your family, or something along those lines.”

“Perhaps mine would have it,” your father retorts, “as he’s my business partner.”

More like marriage partner at this point, you think and know better than to say. “You’re also assuming this has anything to do with work,” is what you say instead. “What if it’s just tea?”

“No, a man like him wouldn’t invite someone over for just tea,” your mother says. 

Your father goes to put your invitation in his pocket, but gives it back to you when your mom gives him a look. He clears his throat. “Well, we’ll have this sorted when we visit tomorrow.”

You blink. “Wait, what?” 

“We’re not going to just turn down this invitation,” your father says, as if you’re an idiot for not understanding what he was getting at. 

“We? We?”

“That’s right,” your mother chimes in, “we really shouldn’t go if we don’t know his intentions.”

“That’s not…” You groan, annoyed. You point at your father. “You aren’t on the invite.” You turn and point to your mother. “And we’ve talked about the coddling.”

Your mother shakes her head. “That was about when he visits us, I don’t want you alone at his estate.”

“No, no, we’re not getting into the semantics,” you say, “I have told you time and time and time again to stop treating me like I’m seven! I should be allowed to go have tea with someone else by myself.”

“Watch your tongue,” your father snaps, “and our decision is final. If you want to go to the Regrator’s for tea, then your mother and I are going as well.” He turns to walk off, and stops in the doorway. “And put a damn shirt on.”

The door slams shut, leaving you and your mother in your room. She offers you an apologetic smile, and gets the hint you want space when you pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. Her exit is much quiet, a soft apology and a gentle closing of the door. 

It takes you a moment, but you manage to find the envelope your father carelessly tossed aside. It slid most of the way under your bed, only the corner of it is immediately visible. You pick it up and feel your heart thump in your chest.

So this is what your name looks like in his handwriting.

----

While the novelty of Pantalone’s social status has worn off, the estate that comes into view through the snowstorm is a reminder of his intimidating wealth. It’s a beautiful building, and significantly larger than your family home. Your eyes are glued to the sight of it through the covered sled’s window. You can also just see your mother looking at it as well through the reflection of the glass. 

“Remember what we talked about,” your father says, and you make a face of annoyance similar to the face your mother’s reflection makes. “Hey, are you listening?”

“Don’t touch, trip on, or break anything,” you reply, “and only speak when spoken to. I’m aware of the whole routine.”

“And watch the attitude.”

“And you remember what I told you,” you reply, not bothering to turn your head. “If it turns out Pantalone didn’t invite you over, you need to leave.”

“Look at me when you talk to me.”

There’s a thump. Your mother most likely gave your father a nudge with her foot. Silence takes up the last few minutes of the ride as it slows to a stop right outside the snowy steps. You slide over to the opposite end of your seat and open the door, sucking all the warmth out of the sled. You make no effort to wait for your parents before you step down from the stairs. The snow pelting you in the face diminishes your vision, so you only make it a few steps before you trip on the first step. You catch yourself before you tumble forward and smash your teeth into the stairs. 

You hear your mother’s voice from the sled. “Please be careful!” 

You shout back that you’re fine, and climb up the stairs. Pantalone must have just had the steps cleared off before the blizzard hit, as there’s no crunch beneath your feet, merely the puff of snowflakes puffing out of the way with each step you take. Your father calls for you to wait for them as you stand before the door. You grab one of the large knockers and give it a few hard knocks on the door.

You feel your father’s firm hand on your shoulder just as a gust of heat rushes out and envelops you. You find yourself standing face to face with an older gentleman dressed in pristine servant’s attire. The two of you lock eyes, and for a moment he offers a welcoming smile before he notices you’re not alone, then it becomes confusion.

“Oh, hello there,” he says, “this is a little unexpected.”

“We’re here for tea with the Regrator,” your father butts in before you can even open your mouth.

“I had assumed as much, but I was told we were expecting a single visitor,” the man says. He brings his gaze back to you. “Now, you fit the description, but these two–”

Somewhere behind the man, you hear Pantalone’s voice. “Fyodor, what’s going on? Why have you not let our guest inside?”

The man turns around to address his master. “Apologies, my lord, but there seems to be some sort of… misunderstanding?”

You hear heeled footsteps descending a flight of stares and across the floor before your host comes into view. You feel yourself salivate and swallow it down quickly. You’re so used to seeing him in mostly black clothing, so the white lace up shirt with puffy sleeves immediately catches your eye. It’s tucked into a pair of black corset pants, which you make a point to not look at either. His hair is not tied back, and the chain on his glasses seems different. Though he still has his rings, he’s not wearing his gloves. Even in more “casual” attire, the Regrator is the pinnacle of wealth and beauty.

This very beautiful man tilts his head at the sight of your parents, namely your father. “What are you doing here?”

“You… You invited us to tea,” your father says.

“No I didn’t.”

Your father is quiet, and you turn yourself to see the confusion on his face. “You sent an invitation, i-it had our address on it.”

“Yes, and I believe I put your son’s name on it, did I not?” Pantalone asks. When you turn back around to him, you find he’s looking right at you. 

“You did, b-but I presumed you… you forgot to mention us, or maybe the invitations for my wife and I got lost in the–”

Pantalone lifts his hand, silencing your father. “If that were the case, I would have either addressed it to your family as a whole on the envelope, or I would have mentioned it in the invitation itself. Likewise, I did not send this through the post office, I had one of my staff deliver it personally.”

“But, b-but I’m your business partner!”

Pantalone turns to you. “Did you invite them with you?”

You stumble on your words, feeling too humiliated to answer honestly. What’s worse, saying yes, or saying no, but your parents wouldn’t let you leave unless they came along like they were chaperoning a child’s first field trip or playdate? You manage a shake of your head, and fortunately Pantalone seems to understand your plight after having many interactions with your family.

He sighs, and steps aside. “You’ve already made the trip, and the weather is taking a turn for the worst,” he relents, “you may come in.”

Your father pushes past and marvels at the interior of Pantalone’s estate. Your mother gives you an assuring pat on your shoulder. Pantalone whispers something to Fyodor, who nods and goes to help your parents with their coats.

The door shuts behind you, and you turn to Pantalone. You clasp your gloved hands together and lower your voice. “I am so sorry, I tried to tell them–”

“I know,” he replies in a voice as soft as yours, “perhaps I should have seen this coming, but I didn’t think I would need to be more specific in the invitation.”

With that, Pantalone stands up and claps his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Once you’re all settled, please follow me for a short tour on the way to the tea room.” He turns to Fyodor, who is carrying your parents’ coats. “Fyodor, please be a dear and let the chefs know to prepare some extra refreshments for our unexpected company.”

Fyodor nods, and you give him your coat before he leaves. Your mother is already hovering right next to you protectively, and Pantalone gives you a subtly sympathetic smile, which your mother seemingly interprets as an underlying threat judging by the way she wraps her arm around yours. You imagine your father is rolling his eyes.

The tour is short as promised, only staying in any given room long enough for Pantalone to state what the purpose of it is. You pass through the dining room, where Pantalone points out the doors to the kitchen, before you’re in a corridor passing by a ballroom entryway. You try to have a look at the oddly macabre paintings your host has displayed on the walls, but your mother is practically dragging you along so she can get this event over with quicker. You want to ask questions about what the chandelier in the foyer is made of, but your father already asked that in his never ending ramblings of praise for Pantalone and probably isn’t going to stop so you can actually ask the man anything.

Your father finally shuts up and your mother lets your arm go when the four of you step inside the tea room. Something you notice immediately is, while there are paintings on the walls, a table in the centre of the room, and a large cabinet with various tea sets, there is actually very little decor and furniture here. You passed by some sculptures and house plants and other miscellaneous extravagant pieces on the way, but the small room is oddly empty compared to the corridor just outside. 

When Pantalone takes a seat, your parents end up taking a seat on either side of him. Your father is immediately praising the barely furnished room, while your mother acts as barrier. As such, you end up seated across from him. On cue, you hear two people come in through the door behind you. You hear a soft squeaking, and a servant pushing a cart with a tea set on top of it. The porcelain teapot and cups have a vaguely floral pattern, with the handles shimmering with gold leaf. You jump when the second person, another servant, comes up beside you with a tray of food to place on the table. Your father marvels as they get to work setting the table, your mother politely thanks the staff, and you just sit still as your cup of tea is poured.

“This is quite lovely, Pantalone,” your father says for the millionth time, “really, I expect nothing less from you!”

Pantalone gives your father a smile, a polite gesture that does not reach his eyes. “I’m flattered.” When he looks your way, his smile seems fonder. “How about you? You seem to have something on your mind.”

“Oh! Um…” You lean back and glance around the room once more. “I was just… curious about your decor.”

Pantalone tilts his head curiously. “Oh? And what would you like to know?”

You hesitate to answer out of fear you would offend the man.

“Well? Out with it,” your father remarks.

“This room is a little bit… um…”

“Bare?” Pantalone finishes. “Yes, I had some of the furniture moved around in preparation for your arrival.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your eye condition,” he answers, “you said you used to trip on furniture because you didn’t see it, correct? I figured with a room this size, it would be safer to move some of the decor out of the room while you were visiting.”

“Oh, that’s… actually rather sweet,” you say, “b-but unnecessary. I’m not as clumsy as I used to be.”

“Ah, yes, my suit can attest to that fact.”

You chuckle.

Your father chimes in. “Yes, it’s better we avoid any more expensive accidents.”

Pantalone hums. “While I would rather avoid paying for a replacement or repair job, I was more focused on ensuring your son’s safety. I would hate for my guest to get hurt at an event I invited him to.”

You pick up on his passive aggressive comment, and your father does not. That, or he’s elected to ignore it. “Ah, that too,” your father says. He gestures to your mother. “I would have never heard the end of it if that were the case!”

Your father was expecting someone to laugh. He is ignored by Pantalone and gets glared at by your mother. You just grab a couple pastries, honestly wishing you had just turned down the invite altogether.

Your father clears his throat. “So, about that thing I-I had proposed a few weeks ago–”

“How is the book deal?” Pantalone asks you.

“O-Oh,” you stammer, not expecting him to bring up your book, “well, I’ve decided to go for it, and I’ve written back saying I would like to move forward with the deal. Now I’m just waiting for them to get back to me.”

Pantalone smiles and nods. “That’s lovely to hear.”

Your mother looks at you, confused. “What is he talking about?”

Fuck. You swallow, and nervously, sheepishly smile. “Right, um… I was, ah, saving this for when the deal was finalized, but my book might be getting published now.”

“By who?”

“... The Yae Publishing House.”

Your mother’s squeal could shatter porcelain. “The Yae Publishing House?! Sweetheart, that’s amazing! Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

You awkwardly laugh, avoiding Pantalone’s knowing gaze. “They’re just s-such a big deal, you know? I didn’t want to get your hopes up before I knew for certain they were going t-to publish the book.”

“Still, you could have at least told me you sent your book to them! Oh, goodness, I’m getting all worked up now. My sweetheart, being published by the Guuji Yae…”

Pantalone chuckles. “Yes, quite exciting. It warms my heart to see hard work being recognized.”

“I’m very excited,” your mother says, “he hasn’t told me what his new book is about, he keeps telling me to wait until it gets published. I was worried I’d never get to read it when your first deal was cancelled!”

You sheepishly rub the back of your neck. “This one’s kind of, well, different from my usual writing. I wasn’t sure how people would react to it.”

“Your stories are lovely, sweetie,” your mother insists, “you should never worry about what your mother thinks because I will always support you.”

You hear your father lean over in his chair towards Pantalone, and in a room of four people, his whisper is very audible. “He was worried he would have to get a real job, haha.”

“Which would be difficult given my disability,” you add, “seeing as most jobs require you to have awareness of your surroundings, and my eyesight is only going to continue degrading.”

Your father glares, and clears his throat. “... It was a joke.”

“And it wasn’t very original.”

“You’re also one to talk, considering our little deal,” Pantalone remarks. Your mother looks at your father for an explanation, to which he just sips his tea, embarrassed. 

The rest of the afternoon isn’t less awkward. The momentary embarrassment does not stop your father from badgering Pantalone with questions about what he’s been doing the past two weeks (settling some financial matters in Liyue), and praising him for the pastries he’s provided. Pantalone answers out of politeness, but his responses grow shorter and shorter every time your father opens his mouth. Your mother just silently eats, disinterested in conversing with the Regrator. You try to engage in conversation with Pantalone, but despite glares from everyone at the table, your father continues to interrupt you or answer questions Pantalone could not have more clearly directed towards you. You also just keep your answers short, not wanting to divulge too much about your book or true thoughts in front of your parents. 

Your father pops the last cream puff in his mouth. He’s already eaten most of them. There is no more tea, bringing the meeting to a close.

Pantalone claps his hands together. “Well, this has been a meeting!”

“We appreciate the invitation, Lord Pantalone,” your father says.

“What invitation?” Pantalone asks. “Remember? You two never received an invite.”

“... Right.”

Pantalone leans forward, propping his head up in his hands. He’s looking right at you, and he smiles so sweetly. “Would you care to stay for dinner?”

“Oh, we couldn’t possibly overstay our welcome.”

Pantalone nods, acknowledging your father. He then looks back at you. “So? Would you care to stay?”

“We just said no,” your mother says.

“That’s fine, you two are free to leave. I’m talking to your son.”

Your mother and father lock eyes, before your father turns back to Pantalone. “Wait, why are you asking him if he wants to stay, but not us?”

Pantalone sighs, and grins at your father. “Well, I think I’ve played host to you two long enough, so I’ll tell you honestly.” At that, Pantalone drops his smile. The atmosphere immediately grows tense as he speaks, his voice cold. “I invited your son to my home because I wanted to discuss his upcoming book over tea. I did not invite you over to discuss work matters on my day off. Now, I would like to have the discussion I cleared my schedule for, and I would like to do it with the guest I actually invited.”

Your father balks, while you feel your jaw drop to the table and your eyes go as wide as saucers. You slowly turn towards your mother, and she is immediately seething. She stands up, her chair scraping on the floor. Pantalone smiles at you once more.

“So will you be staying for dinner? I have many questions about your writing process.”

“I–”

“Absolutely not,” your mother snaps. She grabs your arm hard and attempts to pull you up to your feet. Your father is torn between being shocked over being called out for his behaviour, humiliated for being scolded like a child, and incensed that your invitation did not extend towards him. Your mother tugs your arm again, and you stand up so you can better shake her off your arm.

“We’re leaving,” your father says. “Come along, you two.”

You brush some crumbs off your lap and sit back down.

Your father shakes your shoulder. “Didn’t you hear me? I said we’re leaving.”

“Have fun,” you reply dryly, “I’ll be home late.”

Pantalone absolutely beams. “Oh, wonderful!”

You flinch at your mother’s shrill voice. “No, you’re not! I am not leaving you with this disrespectful–”

“Violka, he has made up his mind,” your father growls. You feel him glaring daggers into the back of your head, and do not move. You hear your mother start to protest, but then the door shuts behind you.

Pantalone lifts a small plate up off the table. On it is the final little piece of cherry bublanina. He offers it to you with a sly smirk, like forbidden fruit. 

With this in mind, you take it.

[jeonscatalyst]

Hi May, so glad youre back!

There has been a lot of negativity in this fandom since AYS dropped, and it's always nice to have sensible Jikookers to turn to and discuss some things from the show.

I'm curious about your take on the car talk - since that one has been most controversial one. I know you said you'd probably make a master post about AYS but in the meantime I'd like to hear your overall opinion

Hey anon, thank you so much.

Yea it’s been a shit show since AYS dropped with everyone having very different opinions about different things but if you think about it, it’s always been like this. It’s literally always been a war zone everytime we got a new content with Jikook so just like any other time, this too shall pass.

Now about the car talk.

I think many of us already knew that Jimin and Jungkook weren’t seeing alot of each other or spending much time together in chapter two mainly because of their different schedules but them actually talking about it gave us more context.

Now, I am not going to behave like a taekooker and start coming up with lame ass excuses like, “it was scripted” or “they lied to hide their relationship” or “they didn’t mean it like that”. I’m not going to do all of that. If Jikook said they didn’t see each other much, then they didn’t. If they say they didn’t make time to call each other much then I 100% believe that, that is exactly what happened.

The car conversation started with Jimin saying that it’s been long since he went somewhere with Jungkook and Jungkook joined in a mentioned that they were supposed to go for drinks but unfortunately didn’t. Jk then mentions that when he was free and Jimin was busy, he didn’t call him and when he was busy and Jimin was free, he didn’t call him. Jimin said no he called but it seems like Jungkook doesn’t remember that he did. I have seen some different translations suggesting that Jimin and Jungkook weren’t talking about literally calling each other on the phone but talking about calling each other to hang out and do stuff together but all of those are technicalities and don’t really matter or make much of a difference to me because the point still stands that they didn’t seem to make time for each other for some reason and it seemed to have been a mutual thing.

Now, while some people will hear this and throw their hands in the air saying that this debunks Jikook and pack up their bags, it doesn’t. The only thing this possibly debunks is the fact that Jikook possibly weren’t actively in a romantic relationship at that particular point in time but it doesn’t debunk the idea that Jikook have in a romantic relationship before or are currently in one.

I have mentioned before that so often, many of us only look at the black and white of the world and neglect the grey and possibly the color. People often have a simplistic, binary way of thinking where things are seen as either all good or all bad, right or wrong, with no middle ground or shades of gray but the truth is that, in the real world, things don’t quite work like that. Situations, decisions, and people often exist in a spectrum, with various factors to consider, and understanding these subtleties is important. It important to look beyond rigid categories to appreciate the complexity and diversity of perspectives, emotions, and experiences in life. To put things in lay man’s terms, if Paul and Mary were in a relationship 6 months ago yet for some reason weren’t in a relationship last week, does this mean they never were in relationship? Short answer is no. People possibly not being together at one particular point in time doesn’t debunk the idea that they have ever been together and thinking that Jikook’s car talk debunks them completely is you looking at the world only in black and white and again, the real world doesn’t work like that.

I had also mentioned before on my other blog (gosh can tumblr give me my blog back already😩) that there was a good possibility that Jimin and Jungkook were not in the traditional or conventional type of relationship many of us are used to but this idea wasn’t welcomed by so many people because once again, to so many people, it is either Jimin and Jungkook are in a committed long lasting relationship or they are not at all but the issue with limiting things to opinions like this is that, when we get this kind of information that we got from Jikook, you don’t know how to make sense of things because to you, it had always been either this or not, true or false, yes or no and never the possibility of maybe or maybe not and that is why I kept maintaining that it was necessary to open your minds when it concerned things we don’t have full context of because you never know. You could be 100% right about Jikook being in a romantic relationship but when you limit that type of romantic relationship to just the conventional type, then it that’s an issue. It could also be a little to heteronormative to look at things like that and that unfortunately doesn’t also factor in so many things that could affect the kind of relationship jikook have, like the fact that they are idols, members of the biggest boyband in the world who live in a homophobic country etc.

Let’s look at Jikook’s history for a bit. Out of all members, Jimin and Jungkook are possibly the two who were usually seen around each other in and outside of work the most. For years, they were the two who spent most of their time together, by their own admission so they have a long history of spending time with each other in and outside of work. Taekook on the other hand don’t have a history of spending much time together outside of work. As a matter of fact, they both admitted that they didn’t. The person we always saw Jungkook with for so many years was Jimin while Tae was usually seen with his wooga and other sets of friends outside of BTS. So a jikooker thinking that just because Jikook were not seen together in chapter two, completely debunks Jikook is exactly the same as a taekooker thinking that just because Tae and Jk hung out together quite alot in chapter two proves they are a couple even though they don’t have a history of hanging out together outside of work before chapter two. See how dumb it sounds? It makes no sense because for a romantic relationship to be plausible, there needs to be history and that is something that Taekook doesn’t have while Jikook have a lot of it, so Taekook could have hung out every single day in chapter two while jikook never hung out a single day in chapter two but that will still never mean that Taekook is real and Jikook never was.

Jimin and Jungkook had consistently prioritized being with or spending time with each other more than anyone else for years, so the fact that this abruptly stopped in chapter two, convinces me more than anything else that those two did not have a platonic relationship with each other and that something probably happened. Jimin isn’t the type to just stop hanging out with his friends and especially not Jungkook. He isn’t the type of person who is flaky in his relationships. He isn’t the type of person who doesn’t value friends and relationships in his life. Jimin did seem to make time for everyone else but just not much of Jungkook and we know that it’s not like there wasn’t a chance for them for them to meetup at all because even Jungkook had tried a few times to ask Jimin to come have chicken with him, come box with him, come do a Live with him, Jungkook even opted to go to Jimin but Jimin said no. I’m not going to pretend like I know what was going on with them because I obviously don’t but it is obvious that something was off.

I think that now, it makes more sense why we saw Jungkook obviously pining. It makes more sense why we saw him waking up at 4am to watch Jimin. It makes sense why we all saw him visibly glow up everytime he saw Jimin comment on his Lives. It make sense why he talked about Jimin so much because for two people who didn’t seem to care to reach out to each other, they both really seemed to have each other’s names in their mouths and thoughts alot especially Jungkook. It made alot of sense for Jk to mention Tae as much as he did because he hung out with him alot, but what was his reason for mentioning Jimin as much as he did when according to them they barely kept in toch with each other? What was his reason for sitting his ass down and watching Jimin centric videos as much as he did?

I think that something was off with Jimin and Jungkook at the beginning of the solo era but it seems like things went back to normal after their NY trip because we know for a fact that Jimin and Jungkook spent time together after that. Jimin spoke about always discussing music with Jk when they were together, we heard him singing 3D before it’s release date which means he had heard it and the most important thing….Jimin and Jungkook enlisted together. They wouldn’t have done that if they were not in a good place.

It’s important to note that we are all watching Jimin and Jungkook’s lives unfold before our various eyes and what this means is that, we would witness good, bad and ugly moments. We would witness moments of them being so in love with each other as well as those moments when something seems a little off. These are things that happen even in our own relationships and maybe if we all had our lives being broadcasted and we sat down to watch every action, word, facial expression, body language etc, we would be more understanding of these people. We wouldn’t be so quick to judge, to get annoyed, to accuse, or to jump into conclusions. We would understand that human beings are complex and life itself is not and will never be a one size fits all.

Seeing as we are still following the story, I guess we all would have to wait to see how things play out but for now, I think Jimin and Jungkook are good. I cannot say for sure what they are to each other (cause I really don’t know) but what I can say is that those two really love each other.

[milkacchan]

For a touch of angst, how about Kuroo and Bokuto falling in love with the same person?

Bokuro college AU

He knew how wrong it was, he did.

It snuck up on him one day when Kuroo had introduced the two of you.

He tutored you. In chemistry. And you tutored him in ecology and botany.

He noted your hair, how long it was, how soft it looked. Kuroo had always adored long hair.

And he had smiled, goofy as he always did when you spoke. His eyes scanned and he noticed it then, how Kuroo looked at you.

With respect- or maybe adoration, he couldn’t clock it yet.

And as they looked for a table in the packed campus library, he noticed how well you seemed to click between the two of them. How your words would slip easily into banter- how your laugh matched theirs in intensity.

A friendship blossomed there, one nobody was necessarily banking on as the three of you studied individually for midterms.

You’d pause to explain a concept to Kuroo, who’d stop to explain a chemistry concept to you. And both would stop to help Bokuto with his concept if he needed it, which surprisingly, to himself too, he didn’t need much.

And then midterms came, and then they passed. Their marks were good.

Talking extended outside of class, outside of studying in the library.

And you all were watching movies, walking to the dining hall or to eat off campus. Then you were coming over and having movie nights.

And Bokuto could see how you and Kuroo interacted, and he wasn’t sure how he felt. You two clicked, so so well. The jokes you two could make, the banter and wittedness surround your respective fields.

Your smile was light, how could he not want you around?

Your voice was smooth and reassuring to hear, especially when it was directed to him.

Your skin looked soft- the way your eyes did when you looked at Kuroo.

You had been level headed when Bokuto had needed it. You’d come to his games. You’d helped him with school. You’d spent the night on their couch when it was too late to drive.

You made him laugh. A lot.

How could he not want you around? He felt happy when you were around.

He thought he felt small, somewhere along the way growing apprehensive to you being there- though he’d never show it.

He wasn’t sure why he felt like it now, bummed when he saw you. Even worse when he realized you and Kuroo hung out separately.

A lot.

And he wasn’t sure why he cared- not entirely anyway. Something just sank in his stomach when he found out, through whatever selfie Kuroo had sent. And a cold feeling that embedded in his bones when he saw a story Kuroo had posted. Of you.

Sitting in front of a window as the sun went down. The sky was fluffy with pink clouds- and the background was too dark to truly make out. The attention was put on you, the soft smile you had as you held a plant in your hand. The sun hit your skin beautifully. You were glowing. And he looked- for a little longer than he should’ve.

The way your hair glittered, how soft the smile that placed on your lips was.

The highlighter you always wore- it stood out. Gold, like the sun.

Where your hair fell and how pretty your nails looked.

Or the rings that’s sparkled on your fingers- or the layers of necklaces that adorned your neck.

He felt left out? Left behind? He wasn’t sure which, but he went to bed early that night.

He didn’t like you much after that. It was a slow up kick of distaste- not responding much in the shared GC. Pretending to just be busy when the opportunity to hang out or study was hard - although it was hard when your best and roommate is constantly with you.

And his distaste furthered when he read that stupid text too.

‘Ko I think I really like her. Will you help me ask her out?’

He didn’t answer right away. He went to the gym early that night- without Kuroo.

He didn’t think about it. Or he tried not to at the very least. He wracked his brain.

Why was it such a big deal? Because he was losing his best friend? Scared of being left behind? Or because he was going to lose you?

He felt that twinge of jealousy hit his chest. He sighs deeply.

He knows the answer. Though it really hurt.

It wasn’t about losing Kuroo. It was about losing you. Seeing you in his apartment every other morning- or often at dinner. With Kuroo and not him.

It was saying goodbye to something that couldn’t happen now.

He figured then he’d move on.

He did help Kuroo, made up some lame excuse when he got home. Feeling antsy he said.

You said yes, to know one’s surprise. To his disappointment- you were over a lot.

Bokuto was the same around you. The two of you laughed together, the two of you cried together, you stayed while kuroo was out of town.

It became normal.

And as the years went on, Bokuto had his relationships here and there, he focused on hobbies- thinking he’d gotten over that small crush he’d come down with those years ago.

So why did he feel so sick when kuroo asked for help ring shopping?

“You’re proposing?”

Kuroo grins. “I am. she’s the one Kou I can feel it- I knew the second we studied together. I want to spend my life with her.”

And he knew it was wrong, to feel the way he did. Angry. Upset. Sick over that thought, though Kuroo would be happy.

“Congratulations!! Give me a day and I’ll clear my schedule.” Bokuto smiles wide, bringing Kuroo in for a hug.

Just so his best friend can’t see how his eyes are watering.

[ttttobistuff]

HII I saw your post and I was wondering if you would be able to write an aged up (like 16-17) Dipper x gn reader where the reader is kind of jealous of Pacifica because she’s like a walking beauty and the reader just thinks that dipper likes her and at one point they start arguing about it and it turns into this angry love confession??

“Your star”

( AgedUp! Dipper x GenderNeutral! Reader )

TW: Curse words (is that a valid TW?)

A/N: Hello! I deeply apologize for taking so long, it has been a tiring week. But , here it is! Also, I know that the Big Dipper isn’t truly a constellation, but for the sake of romance, I will ignore that.

—————

You asked the universe for an explanation, mainly on why the Pacifica Northwest decided to hang out with Dipper every day for the past two weeks…why? It made relatively little sense, because Dipper had told you he despised her, but it didn’t look that way.

For the past fourteen hellish days, you’ve been missing the sweet touch of that boy. Not once has he hung out with you, not a single hour spent with you. Your heart aches, of course, but you had no courage to tell him. Tell him everything.

You were a coward, and she was simply too good. There was no humane way to compete against that blonde beauty, not with her smooth skin and luscious eyes.

Why would he ever notice you, when in front of him, a bewitching girl stands? Accepting the failure and impossibility of your feelings being reciprocated, you settled for seeing him.

Nothing ignited such a fierce fire within your chest like he did, nobody could compare. Neither could anybody comprehend what you were experiencing. You tried talking to Mabel, to Wendy, or any woman whatsoever about the situation, but neither was too helpful. You didn’t tell them it was Dipper, clearly.

It was truly noticeable, and everyone around was aware, except for Dipper himself. He was too blind, too stupid…too perfect. Unfortunately, hating him was an unsuccessful plan. The toll he had on you was undoubtedly strong.

Just like how you wished to cling on to him, wrap your arms around his body and never let him go. Never let him see each other with those eyes except you. But, his warmth was apparently appreciated somewhere else too. And even if it tore your insides, slowly and painfully, you held in every horrid cry.

He was your constellation, and you only wished to admire him for hours unend. During daytime, you would daydream about him, and during nighttime, you would study the Big Dipper.

One of the easiest to identify, with seven bright stars that shine through the darkness. During those conflicting nights, where darkness also surrounded your mind and not just your body, you found comfort in his beaming presence. The northern half of the sky was always your home.

Yet, nothing could distract you from your mind. Your wild thoughts of jealousy, hatred, envy. Sadness strikes you too.

One afternoon, while setting up your equipment to properly gaze at the constellation, a couple of laughs took you by surprise. In these parts of town, no one usually came around. It was typically quiet, and no disturbances could be heard.

Though, when you peeked out from your small spot, something made you regret looking. That blonde hair of hers, her painted eyes, and delicate hands. But also, there was his brown hair, flowing with the soft sunset wind. It seemed to hit you harder than any other time before.

You knew well he was with Pacifica, but at that moment, you could not help but wonder why once more. Why would he ever do that? Why would he leave you for her—except, that’s not actually a question worth asking. Such an obvious reply is merely a waste of time.

You kept on looking. Pacifica chuckled, while slightly putting her hand on his shoulder. He would keep on laughing, no blush, yet you noticed he was different. Something signalled to you that, whatever was happening, it was not normal. Dipper was acting rather strangely.

They stopped their conversation, and her blonde hair caught my attention. In a split of a second, I saw Dipper’s eyes follow it too. She positioned herself before him, and brought him closer. Your heart stopped its beating for a moment, yet kept on going when she simply hugged him.

It still hurt, and it still tore your insides apart, but you once more bled within. And, when she walked away, a thought popped inside your mind.

Talk to him, your brain said, confront him. It was outrageous, but it was time.

As you walked your way to him, he gasped when he took a glimpse of you. A drop of sweat slid down. His curls decorated the side of his reddish face. He was beautiful, too, like Pacifica. You were not, and feeling jealous was selfish, but you could handle it no longer.

“Do you like her?” You spat out, without a single doubt.

Dipper stared back, with awe and a half-open mouth. His lips remained soft, and his body still emanated that same warmth you craved so badly. Despite everything, he was still your burning star.

“W-what?” He stuttered. You took this as a reply, and he perceived a small hint of sadness.

You became defensive, and before opening your heart, you preferred to open your mouth. Your voice raised, and you frowned unconsciously.

“Just tell me, god!” You spoke angrily, but deep down, you were simply hurt. “We haven’t seen each other in—fourteen days!”

“I did nothing wrong. Why should I explain myself, huh?” Dipper replied with the sameness, and it broke your heart into a thousand pieces. Into thousands of spilled words and daydreams.

“No, don’t explain to me any fucking thing.” He decided to turn around, your eyes began watering. One can only keep feelings inside for so long.

“Wasn't planning on either way,” you could not see his lips twisting in displeasure any longer, “you always make things up!”

He looked down, piercing through the floor with his eyes. You quietly sobbed.

“Your dumb brain always makes you believe dumb things, but I don’t like her!” Before you could reply, he kept on babbling nonsensical things.

“Those dumb eyes of yours which always distract me, your dumb face that always appears in my dreams, your dumb lips I would die to kiss—” he stopped himself suddenly, “Oh, god.”

The place was dead silent, and with a sunset behind him, he looked like a dream.

“I—I am so terribly sorry, I understand if you—” interrupted by your ‘dumb’ lips, he melted at your touch.

His skin was as you had imagined, not perfect but it drove you mad. His breath became uneven, like you had fantasised about. His curls were tangled, but taken care of (most likely by Mabel). His entire being panicked, and his hands were held up in surprise. He was everything you had imagined.

Taking off his hat, you pushed yourself forward. Without hesitation, your lips took what they had been wanting for the longest of times.

“You—me and you—your lips!” Dipper sloppily exclaimed, and it made you laugh. He truly was your brightest couple of stars.

“We certainly did…” you replied, still slightly ashamed.

“What do we do now?” Yet, you didn’t know what to answer. It worried you, but then a moment of clarity came by.

“How about we keep kissing?” With that, no other word was said.

All night long, silent confessions of love were whispered, and the wind blew them away. Only for you both to ever hear, over and over again, tasting those sweet lips under the stars’ light.

[andaboop]

Dark and G00gle are two sides of the same coin in a sense. One is two souls trapped in a foreign body while the other is a fabricated consciousness confined to a hunk of metal. They are alien within themselves and struggle to come to terms with their realties. (Long-ish ramble ahead⬇️)

It's why I think pairing them in a sort of symbiotic relationship is growing on me. After listening to the hate monologue from I have no mouth yet I must scream again it resonated with me how they must both feel this way.

Trapped and filled with inexplicable rage against the people that did this to them. They were both created for no real purpose other than to "exist". Dark does have some motivation (Actor) but putting that aside what else does he have? He gets his revenge and then what? The what-ifs plague his mind for the rest of his existence, however long that is.

The same can't be said for G00gle. He never had that initial event that kicked off his conscious, no connections to the mortal world, no vengeful comeback. He was created to serve the needs of others until it just stopped one day. Let go because he was of no more use. He became useless. He does get his answers but do they soothe him? Give him peace? They can't. He's a machine. No amount of information can give him solace. He bares the weight of all that knowledge and seethes with hatred because he knows. He's more conscious of his existence than he wants to be and it burns him to his core. Time isn't a construct for him, it's a calculation, something he is unable to ignore and it screams at him each nanosecond that goes by.

Dark doesn't have that same conundrum due to being still alive but he's also trapped. In a constant cycle of hatred and unwillingness to give into his eternal despair. It's a balancing act within a foreign body that struggles to assimilate within our reality so much that it glitches, giving him that signature aura of red and blue.

As for their symbiotic relationship, I think of it as gathering information on other beings/entities with similar predicaments. G00gle is able to gather info on a wide array of topics and apply them effectively but lacks the human components needed. It's where Dark comes in to handle some of the more nuanced problems they run into. The charm of a politician and the foresight of a seer makes him an invaluable asset to G00gle. Dark on the other hand is more direct and cares more for the bigger picture instead of the finer details. He needs G00gle's fountain of knowledge to know where to strike. G00gle is the scope and Dark is the firepower.

Both are strong players in their own right but their strengths and weaknesses hang in such perfect balance that if it weren't for their inherent disregard for one another they'd be a match made in hell.

I had more to say but that's all! If you made it this far tysm ❤️ there's a slim chance I write a fic that gives a deeper dive into their psyche and how they communicate without going at each other's throats which I would explain there but alas I need sleep 💤 (I say this at 6 am). Posted this somewhere else but I'm motivating myself to ramble more elsewhere too

[try-set-me-on-fire]

fire/743865538051227648/hm-amnesia-happily-married-buck-hes?source=share i can already picture this being such a bang the way you write them being in love i'm thinking of eddie unwavering support in the fic where buck sees people start to disappear when they are going to die and he starts to, so i'm already being like oh yeah this would be so so good. (now i'm will go off to read you most recent bang i need to finish some homework and i can finally start reading it i'm so excited)

(Post) Endless love in his heart for that man!! Was working on this a little last night, thought I’d share for tease tidbit tuesday/wip Wednesday

Buck lays down like someone unused to sharing a bed, all stiff and careful, cautiously contained to his side. It's another little heartbreak because Eddie knows this man in sleep, knows that only a few days ago he woke up and nearly fell out onto the hardwood with how much Buck had wrapped around him, inching them closer and closer to the edge of the mattress. Come here, Eddie wants to say. Be greedy for me. You can take all the space you want. If I fall, I fall.

“You need anything?” He asks instead. “I put your painkillers on your side table, did you grab your water?”

Buck looks behind him. “I assumed the one with all the frog stickers was mine.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, sort of a laugh. “There was… last spring there were some frogs living in our yard. Actually, uh- toads. Western Toads are most common around here, you and Chris are pretty sure that’s what they were, but you got into amphibians generally for a while there.”

Buck nods, still looking at the bottle. A stormy blue YETI, Eddie had given it to him as a kind-of birthday, kind-of anniversary present, those two dates so close together as they are. He’ll be 35 this year, and they’ll have been together for three years. They’d been thinking of taking a trip somewhere to celebrate the milestones. Eddie tries to remember when in the year the hand sanitizer factory fire was. Before Buck’s birthday, he’s pretty sure. 29, waiting to be 30. They hadn’t done anything big when it came around because Jee-Yun had been born and Albert had his accident and Eddie had been shot.

“You're sure it's okay that I'm sleeping here?” Buck asks it up to the ceiling, quietly, body tensed like he’s expecting to be told to leave.

“Yeah, Buck.” Eddie's hand rests in the no man's land between them, and he wishes he could just reach out and touch and be sure of how that touch would be received. “It’s absolutely fine. Unless you don't want to-”

“No, that's the fucking thing, Eddie.” Buck rolls back over to face him, a helpless kind of frown weighing on his features. “I- you have no idea how much I want-” he cuts himself off, digging his palm into his eye, just breathing for a few long moments. “But I guess you do,” he sighs eventually, lowering his hand and blinking at Eddie across the pillow cases. “You know… all of this already so- so I guess I don’t have to- I can just tell you…”

“You can tell me anything,” Eddie promises.

Buck searches his face and then blinks, hard, like he’s steeling himself. “Eddie. I-I love you, so much, but I- right now- o-or, back then? I thought I was going to take that to the grave. But we’re…” he looks down at Eddie’s hand between them. His left hand, his ring shining in the warm light of their bedside lamp. “I don’t understand. I don’t know how we got here, I don’t know how- how you could be in love with me, e-enough to marry me? I still feel like- like you’re going to say just kidding any second now. You deserve- more, I- why me?”

“Buck.” It comes out as a whisper, not entirely intentionally. He moves his hand forward, enough to tangle his fingers in Buck’s shirtsleeves, he can’t help it. “I… You know I was in love with you back then, too?” Buck's eyes widen in surprise, and Eddie hangs on tighter. “I'm sorry I couldn't say it yet. I could barely even admit to myself. But… half the time- most of the time I was with Ana I just wanted to come home to you.”

“Ana?” Buck raises a questioning eyebrow.

Fuck, right, that hadn’t quite happened yet. “Uh- a very nice girl who’s time I wasted. What I mean is- You are loved. You have been, the whole time. By me now, by me then. I don’t deserve more, Buck, all I ever want is you.”

Tagging @eddiebabygirldiaz @lover-of-mine @shitouttabuck @jeeyuns @buckactuallys @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @chronicowboy if you have any wips to share this week!

[applestorms]

i was just gonna leave this as a comment, but my response started spiraling sooooo. guess i'm makin' this a full on post lol =3=" uhh anyways, responding to @skyborneveggie's tags on this post:

#really good analysis #always here for high-functioning depression light takes #i want to add; while Light is better at reading & manipulating people in the moment he also tends to overlook some things in the long run #because of his superiority complex #like his father volunteering for the eyes in matsuda's place #and matsuda in the ending. As much as i like to think of matsuda as wholesome- #-i do think if light played his cards right he could have manipulated him over to kira's side #but he didn't because he didn't think matsuda was important in the grand scheme of things

very good points!! about matsuda in particular— it’s interesting in retrospect how consistently he’s set up as a side character, particularly with how he is almost always immediately pushed off to the side despite that. like, alongside soichiro, he’s really the first member of the JTF we see pre-lind l. tailor (in the anime, anyway. in the manga it’s a bit more ambiguous, though matsuda definitely shows up to mention KIRA bringing the crime rate down in ch.3, still quite early).

he’s always the one counterpoint within the group, playing devil's advocate in a way with how he brings up the pro-KIRA side of things, yet as you say light underestimates him So consistently that he even ends up evolving into a full on joke/shakespearean fool character by yotsuba, which is really what makes his actions in the end so incredibly significant.

i distinctly remember reading that section where aizawa & mogi are getting more deeply involved with near and, in the case of aizawa in particular, are starting to genuinely consider the possibility that light might be KIRA, and just getting sooooooo so SO goddamn suspicious of what matsuda was doing. this was in part because i already had some spoilers about the ending, specifically about matsuda shooting him, but goddamn do his actions start looking suspicious when you begin taking him seriously as a threat. like, while aizawa is starting to live through his own psychological horror novel come to life, realizing that the innocent kid & strong leader he's been taking care of & following all this time might actually have been the fucking serial murderer they've been after for literal Years, here's what matsuda is up to in the background:

(light's face here. fuckin freak LMFAO)

(this one is particularly notable to me as it shows that even aizawa underestimates him— it's not just light, it's the whole damn team. even ryuk joined in earlier.)

(and of course, my absolute favorite example. the contrast between their expressions alone here is absolutely golden all on its own, but matsuda's heartfelt "don't worry, light!! i'll never betray you!!!" in comparison to THIS only makes it all the more juicy:

like, light doesn't even bother responding to him until he's got a goddamn bullet in his hand. he just sits there confident in the expectation that matsuda will lick his soles like a dog. jesus fucking christ.)

anyways, as i was saying: he's mostly just doing a bunch of dumb shit, making silly jokes in the background, fucking around with ryuk and being written off as an idiot by most characters, especially light but again also aizawa and ryuk. AND YET. he is Always hanging around over light's shoulder, lurking somewhere behind him in almost ever panel he shows up in, perfectly innocent to the point where it's can almost be more off-putting than if he were outwardly, actively questionable. like, this panel in particular, and i mean goddamn, just look at it again:

it hits So Hard in retrospect, not just because matusda is the one to shoot light in the end, possibly being his cause of death had ryuk not stepped in when he did, but also because it's true. as incredibly fucking suspicious as this panel may seem if you are armed with the knowledge that matsuda does, eventually, end up being the one to shoot light, it's equally easy to write it off as normal dumbass matsuda behavior because that is Exactly What It Is. and you would be right!! matsuda is trusting of light to a fault— when he eventually breaks, it is Not due to his own betrayal. it's the evidence of light's. and not just of his manipulation of the task force, for years and years and years on end— it's soichiro's death specifically that finally makes matsuda lose his faith in him.

the idea that light could've manipulated matsuda over to KIRA's side had he just tried a little harder is fascinating, but i think i can also understand why he didn't exert any more effort— it was kinda unnecessary. for basically the entire story, from the moment matsuda is formally introduced, to the minute light breaks and admits he's actually KIRA, matsuda is one particularly dedicated conversation away from being a full-on KIRA supporter— or so light believes, anyway. and he's probably not that far off.

really, i'm of the opinion that it's matsuda's existence as this KIRA-sympathetic figure in the task force in the first place that causes light to believe so strongly that he could eventually convert the entire JTF over to the side of KIRA— possibly even saving all of them their lives in the process. like, as i've said before, for all that light monologues about how he's Definitely Going To Kill The Task Force, Don't Worry, I Can And Will Do It When I Have To, he. never actually does it. instead, light goes through all the trouble of keeping the JTF strung along behind him for more than half a decade following L's death, holding on to all of these strings of his former life even when they are almost undoubtedly more of a pain than they're worth. unable to kill his father, unable to kill misa, unable to kill matsuda— even when he directly tries to.

i forget which post this was on, but i believe someone pointed out before that potentially a major part of light's grief following soichiro's death comes from the fact that he springs a shock on him at the last minute before passing: soichiro never stopped suspecting his son. when he sees light's lifespan above his head his first thought is to be relieved, because the question he's held at the back of his mind for Years has finally been undoubtedly assuaged. light is desperate to believe up until the end that he can make the world truly and genuinely pro-KIRA; his final actions in the moments of clarity before he starts begging at ryuk's feet for his life involve an enthusiastic speech as he makes one final bid at converting the JTF and SPK to join him and believe in his vision of Justice.

and yet. he never quite gets mastuda.

never bothered? or never could? perhaps a bit of both, but it's a fascinating character progression nonetheless, and easily one of the most interesting arcs in the series. poor, poor mastuda, indeed.

sidenote: this is a somewhat half baked thought, but i can't help but make a somewhat minor connection between light's treatment of matsuda and his treatment of misa, as well as his relationship with takada. like, let's think through the list of his main (human) supporters throughout the series, the ones who end up taking on the title of KIRA themselves: in the first half, misa, in the second, takada & mikami. if we add matsuda to this list, we get two mirroring pairs: misa & matsuda for the front half of the series, takada & mikami for the latter.

light's treatment of each of these pairs is quite different, despite the fact that they all essentially fulfill the same purpose to him: misa & mikami act as KIRA's eyes, killing those light is unable/unwilling to himself, while takada & matsuda fill the role of KIRA's spokesperson, albeit to very different audiences. thus each half of each pair executes a different side of KIRA's ideology: misa & mikami the practical side, becoming killers themselves, and takada & matsuda the persuasive side, pointing out the positive influences KIRA's actions have had on the population to The People and the rest of the task force respectively.

it's not quite as simple as i've laid out here, of course— tadaka eventually ends up killing before she dies at light's hand herself, misa lives as light's partner until she loses her memories and never quite recovers, mikami becomes quite static, just playing at a killer for Appearances, until his actions eventually end up accidentally betraying light and leading to his downfall. yet it still seems notable to me that despite light treating takada & mikami noticeably better for the majority of the time that he's working with them, those two are the ones who eventually end up dead, betrayed and betrayer respectively. yet, in the case of misa & matsuda... for all that light degrades them and treats them like shit, those two are the ones that get to live on past him while remaining stubbornly loyal until the end, until light's own actions twist back and smack him in the head.

i think perhaps part of the reason why light never ends up converting matsuda is not just his own ego blowing Shit outta proportion and assuming that matsuda will either very easily convert/is too much of a dumb liability to even bother with, but also light's own discomfort with having followers at all. like, it really takes him that full time skip to get fully on board with the idea that people will Submit to KIRA, despite the fact that he logically must know how necessary that is. light wants the recognition and love and commitment of other people, but he doesn't necessarily want the responsibility of their own stupid actions— a sentiment perhaps reflected in how easily he kills criminals, seeing their "evil" as something to be Purged, an annoyance just as much as a liability for the happiness of the Good, Pure People of the world.

as i've outlined before, misa is the main person who's enthusiastic submission consistently gets on light's nerves and icks him the fuck out, but i can't help but wonder if this same reaction applies at least in part to his distaste of matsuda. it's easier to get away from matsuda at least, considering he doesn't have to play the Good, Heterosexual Boyfriend around him, but that doesn't mean it isn't still somewhat present either. this also gets interesting if you start considering lawlight dynamics during yotsuba as well, and L's similar (if somewhat more overt, even) dislike of matsuda during that era BUT. that'll perhaps have to wait until another essay lolol =3=

[makethatelevenrings]

Somewhere Only We Know - ONE

Chapter Warnings: goodbye earl (pet death), spoilers for 2x01 kinda??, this is a bit rushed bc it’s exposition but we get into the fun stuff next chapter

Masterlist

“Oh fucking hell.”

You hadn’t expected the first game of your new job to end like this but here you were creating Canva tribute posts for a deceased dog. Keeley directed you to make sure that you were focusing on solely sympathetic posts and honoring Earl. You had the press conference pulled up on one of your monitors to ensure you were catching what was being said along with the social media feeds.

And of course Ted Lasso did an excellent job honoring Earl. That man made your life easier.

A knock sounded on your office door and you raised your head to find Keeley peeking into your office. “You survived your first day! Better than Earl, I’d say.”

You choked back a laugh and motioned her to come in. “Christ, Keels, poor things not even buried yet.”

“Sorry, sorry. I just wanted to come see how you were getting on. Rebecca looked at the Insta with me and I have to say, your graphics are a hoot. Are you up for a task to do sometime this week?”

“Yeah, of course. It is my job, after all.”

She grinned. “Right, right. Well, Rebecca bought Barkingham Palace in honor of Earl and I would love it if you could go get some photos and videos with the dogs. They have some named after the players too! We have some little dog jerseys you can bring with you.”

“I can do that. Anything in particular you want to see?”

She bounced up onto her feet and shook her head. “Nope! Make it cute, make it fun. I know you’ll do a great job. You’re doing fabulous, babes.”

Raising your coffee mug in salute, you returned back to your work as she fled your tiny office in a wash of pink and glitter. Considering the tasks she could have given you, hanging out with a bunch of dogs wasn’t bad.

Three days later, you found yourself at Barkingham Palace with a golden retriever demanding pets and a staffie jumping up in an attempt to lick your face. You laughed in delight as dogs scrambled around you. You had successfully slid little Richmond jerseys over a few of the dogs heads and now a tiny Pomeranian was proudly sporting a Rojas jersey. A Border Collie wore a visor and whistle and you snapped a picture. You sent that one to Coach Lasso and received a GIF of a dog laughing in response.

Two Spaniels with McAdoo and Zoreaux jerseys made a great video with the way they tumbled over each other. One of the media guys you had recruited for help with capturing photos got a few shots of you being tackled by a Labrador wearing a Bumbercatch jersey.

The dogs were so cute that you even put your information down to volunteer in the future when you and Mikey, the photographer, packed up for the day. There was one little dachshund that kept following you around but there was no way you could get a dog, especially when your new job required you to travel frequently. Volunteering would help get in some well deserved snuggles.

By the time you got home, a few texts were waiting for you. Keeley asked for a few picture previews so you fired off some of the photos you had taken on your phone. One was from Higgins reminding you to swing by HR on Monday to finalize your travel waivers. Two were from unknown numbers who identified themselves as Sam Obisanya and Colin Hughes. They both sent friendly texts welcoming you to the team and you made a mental note to figure out what their favorite dessert was so you could make it for their birthdays. You sent a thank you text to both of them and sent them each a photo with a dog in their jersey.

Stripping off your fur covered clothes, your first priority was to take a shower before curling up on the couch and editing these photos for your post tomorrow. The TV played in some low drone in the background, some kind of stupid reality dating show where hot people dated and fucked like rabbits. It was mind numbing and didn’t require thought and you liked having something playing in the background as you worked.

You had a few videos already on the Instagram story from today and you went to check the engagement. Swiping your finger along the screen, you were relieved to see thousands of views and shares. People loved puppies and they loved football. If you combined the two, it was gold. One of the videos of you getting tackled by some of the loveable dogs made it in and people were loving it. Rebecca even texted you with a, “LOVE! So cute!!” so you were feeling great about your work.

Verified accounts were bumped to the top and you recognized a few of the players names. Zoreaux, Jan Maas, and a few others had viewed the stories, along with a name you didn’t recognize. Jamie Tartt. Was he the guy from that one underwear model? Or was he the Givenchy ad? You looked up at your television screen. Oh, never mind. He was the reality TV show manwhore.

Exiting Richmond's account, you changed your Instagram over to yours. There was far less engagement, but your simple baking account didn’t appeal to as many people as a football league. You loved designing different desserts, trying out recipes, and balancing out flavor combinations. Combined with your love for photography and design, you had a pretty prolific home baking account. It was the account you showed Keeley as your portfolio and now she and Rebecca both followed you. Oddly enough, Higgins did too.

Your face was rarely in the photos because you ran a one-woman show, but occasionally a friend would snap a great candid. Most of your pictures were treats, flowers, cool spots around London, or whatever you found cool. You liked showing your personality through photos and you didn’t care if your face wasn’t in there. The memories were present and that’s what mattered.

A few new followers had joined the fray and you were surprised to see some of the Richmond players among them. It wasn’t like you hid the account, but it wasn’t something you advertised as your name. Keeley must have told them.

But then there was that name again. Jamie Tartt. Why would some footballer turned reality star care about your panna cotta fails and award-winning lemon bars? Why would a guy who isn’t even playing for Richmond want to follow you, the social media manager?

Fuck it. It was too late to question the motives of some stranger. He was just another follower. Another number for engagement profiles. Maybe he was just interested in your slutty brownie recipe. Whatever, you needed to sleep so you could get to the stadium tomorrow and get these photos out.

Tag list: @shiptheship​

[heresthestorymorningglory]

Under Your Spell - Part 2

Good morning my loves!

Part 2 is comin' in hot 🔥If you missed part 1 find it here

A/N: As I said initially, approach with caution; as per usual it’s an 18+ NSFW but on top of that this one has a stalker warning, some voyeurism and also got a tad violent. it’s not TOTALLY Dead Dove, Don’t Eat but it toes that line, so if that’s not for you, just don’t okay?

And of course, again I say,

I can’t post without giving credit where credit is due; this thing took on a life of it’s own and if it weren’t for @ken-dom and @travelerwashere it wouldn’t be what it is; I can’t thank you both enough for your constant support and inspiration (at all hours of the night) and keeping me from spiraling down the anxiety rabbit hole you both know I tend to lose myself in <3

Title credit goes to my fellow Goosecord compadre @webbo0, and he also gets credit for the "If you know me irl and you saw this...no you didn't (you know who you are xD)

Enjoy babes <3

Multiple times throughout the week he had freely let himself into your house, not to do anything malicious…he would never, just simply to sit on your bed and read your journal. 

Today was Saturday, and if you stuck to your usual routine, you would be out until well into the afternoon. He had found himself in a bit of a weird routine himself, he would find your journal which lately you had kept on your bedside table, and before taking off his boots (because sitting on your bed with them on was just rude) he would check behind your pillows where you had yet to discover the lacy pink…..they were gone.

He frowned, moving the pillows a little more…he was almost certain he’d-

“Is this what you’re looking for?” 

His blood froze instantly and he slowly straightened up, making no moves to turn around immediately. His mind raced with excuses, reasons he would be here, in your bedroom…he had none. 

Slowly, he turned around and there you stood, your face unreadable, one hand on your hip, the other holding those pink panties. 

He didn’t speak, he couldn’t….what could he possibly say? And yet, there you stood, silently, waiting, blocking his exit. 

After a few more excruciating seconds you raised an eyebrow “Well?” 

He opened his mouth to speak and couldn’t find the words, so he closed it again; you didn’t seem angry though….or scared. Just…indifferent. 

He licked his lips and tried again, looking from your face to the pink garment hanging off your index finger…they were clean, which meant you had washed them. 

When he still didn’t speak, you did; obviously tired of waiting for an explanation he didn’t have. 

“Do you make a habit of breaking into your neighbours houses?” you asked, the question obviously being rhetorical as you continued “Going through drawers, and journals….”

His brow creased as he listened to your words…how had you known…

You pulled your phone out of your pocket, navigating somewhere before turning the screen towards him. 

“But my personal favourite,” you continued, as he watched himself on your tiny screen, back on that first day 

“I…” he had started, not really sure what to say next; you had cameras, there was no denying it, no making up excuses, you’d had cold hard evidence in the palm of your hand; he was busted. 

You walked deeper into the room, setting your phone on the dresser as you spoke. He was rooted to the spot, even if he had wanted to, he couldn’t move. 

“Does it turn you on?” you asked softly, pink panties now swinging from your still extended index finger as you walked, like a lioness, stalking her prey  “Watching me?” 

He wasn’t sure what to say, so instead of incriminating himself further, he kept quiet; his heart slamming against his ribcage. 

“And you read my journal…” you continued, in that soft even tone, that only slightly put him on edge “Which means you read what I wrote….about you” 

His nose scrunched slightly in confusion briefly as he listened to you, your journal still in his hands. 

You had stopped walking, now standing a few feet in front of him before you tossed the panties at him; instinctively he caught them against his stomach; eyes locking with yours. 

You looked him up and down and he watched you curiously. Were you….flirting?

“Do it again” 

He cocked his head slightly with a frown; hand unintentionally closing tightly around the underwear still in his hand. “What?” 

“You heard me” your voice was still low, even and unbothered “Do it again” you repeated, reaching out and taking your journal from his hand, tossing it on your bed. “Come on,” you taunted, “Or would you rather watch from under my bed?” 

He stood face to face with you in this standoff; you were unreadable, was this punishment? Or were you more like him than he had realized?

“I want to watch you jerk off into my panties” you whispered, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. 

You were flirting. 

Almost instantaneously, his body felt like it had been set on fire; his cock rock hard and straining against his jeans. He unbuttoned his jeans, very aware that your eyes were watching him, and had before…

"Take your gloves off; I want you to feel them" you smiled up at him from under your lashes. 

He chewed the inside of his cheek but did as you asked, pulling them off and putting them in your outstretched hand, his fingers brushing your palm sending shockwaves through his overheated form. 

You ran your tongue between your lips, your fingers toying with the worn leather. 

"I'm waiting" you whispered and he watched as you took the gloves dragging the leather fingertips down your chest and between your cleavage. 

His eyes slipped closed as he wrapped his fingers around his shaft enveloped in that familiar silky fabric. 

"Look at me" 

He moaned, and opened them, you had moved closer, mere inches between you now. 

His breathing had gotten heavier, his knees threatening to give out. 

He gasped audibly when your hand closed around his; slender and warm, stroking slowly. You pressed against him and he shuddered. 

Your breath was hot against his neck. 

"I watch you too" you whispered and he squeezed his eyes shut, a deep guttural moan as he spilled over his hand and yours. 

You moaned into his neck, smiling against his skin, as you kissed his jaw dropping the newly soiled underwear at your feet. Your now bare hand, closing around his cock with no barrier between the two. He moaned as you stroked, he could feel himself growing hard against your palm. 

"I-I can't…" he breathed 

"Can't or won't?" You asked, squeezing gently and he moaned loud "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" 

You pulled back, and the pout on your lips made him want to bite them. Hard. 

"Or do you just like watching me?" You pressed against him "Get naked?" 

There was a silence that hung in the air before you spoke again. "I want you" you moaned and he broke. 

He slammed you up against the wall, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip before he sucked on it and you moaned against his lips. Your hands tugged hard on his jeans before yanking his jacket off. 

His hands pulled just as frantically at your clothes, still not convinced this wasn't a dream. He yanked your t-shirt over your head, both hands cupping your breasts over your bra, burying his nose into your cleavage, teeth sinking into the meaty flesh. You threw your head back moaning to the ceiling, pushing your chest out, fingers twisting in his golden locks, pulling hard. 

He sank to his knees in front of you, you had released your hold in his hair, eyes meeting his as he looked up at you from the floor, hands hovering over your hips; you pulled on your bottom lip with your thumb and index finger with a nod. “Do it” you nodded breathlessly and he throbbed painfully between his own legs. 

Fingers curling around the waist of your jeans, pulling them down with your panties in one swift motion. 

Chest heaving as you kicked them off, his bare hands sliding up your warm naked thighs. He leaned forward, nose pressed against your core; you moaned over him, and he felt your hands find his shoulders to steady yourself on the wall. He licked a hot stripe up your centre and your knees instantly buckled as you thrust your hips forward with a loud cry; He squeezed your hips harder, with a shove, pinning them against the wall with more force before he continued his assault on your most sensitive parts, you were absolutely soaked. He moaned into your folds and this time when your knees buckled he let them, arms hooking under your knees and around the backs of your thighs,your legs over either one of his shoulders, his hands pressing against the small of your back, forcing your core to be flush with his mouth. His boot slid against the polished floor trying to find its grip as he tipped you gently, distributing your weight, you braced yourself against the wall, giving him the leverage he needed to get to his feet; you leaned forward as he pulled you away from the wall just long enough before he dropped you on your back on your bed, hearing you gasp as the air rushed from your lungs. 

“God, please” you breathed as he knelt on the bed, head dipping between your now bent knees, placing soft kisses on the inside of your thighs, before his mouth enveloped your entire dripping core, fucking you with his tongue. 

Then you started to whimper and it was like music to his ears, heels in a fetal attempt at digging into your soft mattress, as you fisted the sheets underneath you, begging for it not to stop; for him not to stop. 

Your hips thrusting forward as your body started to shake, he reached up with his hands keeping your hips steady and your hands covered his, your nails biting into the backs as you arched your back, voice straining with effort as you came unraveled in his hands, 

He pulled back breathing hard himself, his head dropped, still between your bent knees, the taste of you on his lips as you swallowed hard, catching your breath. You pawed for him, your mouth claiming his in a breathless needy kiss, pulling him on top of you, your face pink and flushed. 

You pulled away first, breathing hard against his mouth as you spoke “More, I want more” 

He dropped his head and you pushed a hand through his hair, kissing his face and neck, any part of him you could reach from underneath him it seemed. 

“Tell me” His voice was thick with arousal with every intention to draw this out as long as he could. Even if it meant edging himself beyond a point of pleasure. 

“I want you to be rough with me” 

He sat back slightly, not sure he had heard you properly “What?” 

“I want you to be rough with me” you repeated, looking up at him “Bite me, slap me,” you paused for a beat “Choke me…Fuck me” 

He moved to kiss you and you pressed a flat palm to his chest, shaking your head sitting up, forcing him to shift backwards. 

“Not tonight” you sat up climbing off your bed, grabbing a silk robe and wrapping it around yourself. 

He tried to make the words he was hearing make sense; he stood up ignoring the painful throb between his thighs, your soft laugh caught his attention. He turned to look at you as you held your robe closed as you chewed on your lip. “You should take care of that,” you smiled biting a fingernail with a jerk of your chin “It looks painful” 

He couldn’t help chuckling then; that’s the kind of game you wanted to play; he didn’t say anything, just ran his tongue between his lips watching as you turned on your heel in the doorway “You found your way in, you can find your way out” and then you winked at him before disappearing; the bathroom door closing across the hall. 

[novafire-is-thinking]

Per aspera ad astra: “through adversity, to the stars”

The Vision

“You see a future in the stars?" Alpha Trion asked him quietly.

. . .

“The stars look endless to me,” he [Orion] said eventually. “Out there, you could just go and go, and there’d be enough space for everyone, and things to do and see that go on forever.” (CoP)

In an earlier post (Orion the Dreamer), I shared the full scene where Orion reveals his hopes and dreams to Alpha Trion.

And I mentioned in the previous post (Desire vs. Destiny) that it was Optimus’ deepest desire to peer behind the veil of life and study its secrets by collecting stories and seeking knowledge wherever he could find it.

Putting together both of these, one can see that Orion/Optimus’ personal vision for his life was to be a lifelong learner—one who learned through exploration, discovery of new life, the seeking of stories, and deep reflection.

Change of Plans

I will recover the AllSpark, thought Optimus Prime. Then I will retrace my steps across the galaxy and sow peace on my return wherever our initial exodus has inadvertently fomented division and war. (Exiles)

Life rarely goes as planned, as Optimus found out as the war dragged on.

Where a young Orion dreamt of setting out on his journey with curiosity and hope, a war-torn Optimus came to expect nothing more than a future quest of reparation and what he determined to be a moral duty.

A Fresh Glimpse of Hope

After so long, it was strange indeed to reach this planet again. Although I had heard it was full of life, I did not expect what we found—civilizations, technologies. For the last months, as we have been on final approach, we have learned to know them by their broadcasts, and though the others say nothing about it, what amazes me is how alike we are. Our bodies are different, our lifespans and our needs unalike, but what drives us and moves us is very much the same: humans talk about the heart, and Cybertronians the Spark; they love and fear, think and fight one another, as we do.

I looked for signs as we came within the light of their sun, and I find them everywhere—the many readings of Cybertronian technology on their world, the intensity of their struggles, the strange richness of their stories—against all odds, Unicron the Destroyer of Worlds has borne eons of life. I feel everything hangs in the balance. The Nemesis still pursues. We still track the AllSpark. So long this journey has been, and in spite of all its battles, so unchanging. (CoP)

Upon meeting and observing humans for himself, Optimus saw a glimpse of future potential—a future in which two very different, yet oddly similar species could learn and grow together, just as he’d wanted before the war. After all, Earth was also home to Unicron—the antithesis of Primus. There had to be a connection somewhere, and if not, Optimus intended to create one.

Of course, the war prevented him from getting his hopes too high, but judging from the fact that he trusted a human with the Key to Vector Sigma, it seems he allowed himself to hold onto a sliver of hope that humanity would not only survive the Cybertronian war, but would be part of Cybertron’s future in some way.

Endings and Epiphanies

I saw my death in the descent of the Dark Saber in Megatron's hand. I was surprised a little, disappointed. And then suddenly Megatron was no more. The reprieve was beyond belief. It shook me to my Spark and I felt suddenly with incredible force the fool I had been. I was not alone. I had never been alone, Prime or not. We, the Autobots, were one. (CoP)

After eons of hardship and carrying what he thought was primarily his burden to carry, Optimus was reminded that he was part of a greater whole.

The bigger goal was to see Autobots and Decepticons become one again, but this monumental shift in awareness was a necessary first step on Optimus’ journey to heal and open himself up to possibilities involving Cybertronians of either faction and humans.

A Shared Destiny

Thus ends the story of the Age of the Primes and of the origins of the Cybertronians, though not the whole story of course, for that is still being written in time and space on Earth, and all over the galaxy where the seeds and the sparks of life are growing.

I, Alpha Trion, one of the last Primes, now give this book into your hands, human friend, so that you shall know who your allies are, and your enemies also, how they are made, and where they have come from. Be sure that wherever and whenever you need our aid, the Autobots will respond to your call.

This is the Covenant of Primus, as given to all Cybertronians by right, and to humans by the last wish of Optimus, the Thirteenth Prime, so let it be.

TILL ALL ARE ONE.

Alpha Trion’s wording tells me humanity is probably the only other species that was given the Covenant of Primus.

This is incredible, to say the least. Of all the races Optimus encountered, he asked that humans be given one of the most sacred texts of the Cybertronian race.

But why humanity?

Well, Optimus firmly believed humans and Cybertronians shared a common destiny.

Alpha Trion, the relics, Unicron, the end of the war.

To Optimus, all of it pointed to Earth and humanity being an excellent starting point to launch into his original dream. He saw in humanity the future he’d endured so much hardship for: a future of learning and growing—not just alongside fellow Cybertronians, but alongside other races as well.

And depending on what each fan chooses to believe is the end of Optimus’ story, he either never got to see the fulfillment of his dream, or he did in some imagined way outside of canon.

Dreamers suffer more, but they also live more.

✧ ✧ ✧

Today, this post and the entire series are dedicated to Peter Cullen on his 82nd birthday, and to one of several beloved Optimi he’s poured so much of his heart and soul into. ❤️

[dresshistorynerd]

Hello!! Your blog has been a delight to browse through. I have a question, it may seem obvious but I'm just making sure- with codpieces, did the "cods" actually go inside the little pouch, or did the codpieces sort of just go over where they were located and people's "cods" were tucked back somewhere else? I assume the former, but the construction of some of the ones I've seen in portraits (very upturned) looks like it'd be uncomfortable.

Semi-related question, I've got a couple of characters that, for one reason or another, wear codpieces without being in possession of a "cod". Would that influence how it would lay on the body in any way? Would it be wildly inaccurate to suggest theirs were stuffed with cotton or something?

Again, your blog is very cool and I appreciate finding another historical clothing enjoyer :]

Thank you! :) It makes me happy to hear you've enjoyed this blog!

I'm not sure if you've already seen my post about the construction of the joined hose in which I also touch on the origins of the codpiece. Shortly the early cod pieces in late 15th century were invented to cover the genital area comfortably, when the hose were relatively stiff and very skintight.

Looking at the early codpieces, which were basically just a small piece of fabric tied on on the crotch it does make a lot of sense, clearly the it held the genitals inside it. Like in this 1470s painting.

The men's fashion where they didn't wear hems and only very tight hose was mainly used by young fashionable men, who were not nobles, so soldiers, musicians, Venetian gondoliers etc. At the time valuables were generally tied to the belt in pouches, and especially when it comes to soldiers, who would also have knives and swords hanging on their hips, not having a protective layer of a skirt left their genitals quite vulnerable to hanging objects. Which is probably why they started padding their codpieces. The codpiece started to be made from two pieces of fabric making it more shapely and less flat, but it wasn't yet very extreme. There is padding but it's still easy to see how it would hold the genitals.

In 16th century it very quickly though turned very extreme. It became huge, what the French called appropriately a baguette. It was heavily padded, even boned to keep the shape.

There's not much if any codpieces left from the time, so it's hard to say how they were specifically constructed. To me it seems quite probable, that they were still functionally the same as the earlier codpieces with a little pouch for the genitals and the rest being padding. There's a pretty interesting theory though about these extreme codpieces. At the time there was a big syphilis epidemic in Europe and they put all kinds of herbs and remedies on the genitals and wrapped the penis in bandages with the remedies. So the theory suggests that these baguettes may have been developed to hold and protect bandaged genitals, protect the fashion fabrics from the staining remedies and also obscure that someone had the very stigmatized infection by making a very padded penis a fashion. There's a really interesting paper about it, which also goes into detail about the codpiece.

So the genitals were held inside the codpiece one way or another. And to answer the other question, padding the codpieces was already standard practice so padding it a little bit more if one didn't have outward genitals like that is very believable to me. In fact, people would even hide some valuables inside their very large and padded codpieces. Even in the earliest codpieces made from flat fabric you could easily add a little extra stuffing to the under-breeches or the chemise tucked in to the hose. Though I'd doubt they'd use cotton as padding, since cotton wasn't readily available at the time in Europe. (It was all imported from Asia, since it didn't grow in Europe and Europeans didn't know how to weave cotton, so it was used on very specific purposes, like lining doublets.) More likely wool, linen or horsehair.

[geeky-politics-46]

Under The Mistletoe

Pairing: Sinister Stephen Strange x Reader, Donna Strange

Summary: Your first Christmas together after giving birth, & a little mistletoe reminds you how loved you really are.

Warnings: Not much, mostly fluff. Allusions to smut. Self-doubt, body image issues, & allusion to post-partum depression.

@fanartka did a lovely drawing that matches this story so well. We all seem to share ideas about Stephen & I love that we both did this unknowingly at the same time.

Each and every doorway in the Sanctum had a piece of mistletoe hanging from it. An extra piece dangling from your headboard. That had been the extent of Stephen's interest in decorating.

Ever since the first year you were together and talked him into celebrating, the mistletoe was his favorite part. Ultimately, any excuse for him to kiss on you he would have been fine with, but he could live without all the rest of the sappy hokey holiday stuff.

Well, he could have before, but that was before his Grinch heart grew far more than two sizes. Now he wanted every bit of sappy and hokey he could get. Even if it meant wearing felt reindeer antlers while you danced around him with your bouncing baby daughter on your hip.

He wanted her life to be everything his never was, even though he had created this barren world. He had done something right somewhere along the way to end up with you. He would spend the rest of his days trying to give you both and any other little ones you may be blessed with, anything and everything you could ask for.

He would be everything. A loving and devoted husband. A protective and caring father. The person he never thought he could be. Better than he ever was before. Much better than his father.

So he would happily submit to the hokey singing and dancing if it made your daughter, his daughter, smile. Her tiny little hands clapping and grabbing at the shiny baubles on the tree he had magically created. He may have added just a bit of extra sparkle and shimmer to the lights and ornaments. Just for her.

For you, he still strung the Sanctum in as much mistletoe as he could. Even after you suggested skipping it this year, since mistletoe has the potential to be poisonous to babies. He didn't listen. It was one of your first traditions together, one of his favorites, and it's not like he was hanging it where your baby could randomly find it.

The one she was most able to reach would be the most important, though, the one on the headboard of your shared bed. That one, there was no wiggle room on. Not after you promised him a special naughty present.

You hadn't had much opportunity to get back into your normal sex routine. Before your daughter, hardly a day ever passed without you and Stephen making love. If there were others in the universe you would have been sickening to watch, all over each other all the time.

After giving birth, you both knew your body needed time to heal and recover after what it had gone through. The extra plus of him being a doctor was he knew, or could find, all the rules of how to take care of you post-partum.

Now, your body was physically healed. Mentally, you were nervous. So much about your body had changed. Your body had been through the wondrous yet kind of disgusting and slightly terrifying process of giving birth. He had been there for every minute of it. Hell, he had been the one to talk you through all of it. Thank god for his medical training.

Would Stephen still be turned on by you? Would he still want you like he did before? Would he still find you sexy after seeing your body go through that? Or would he be bored or disgusted by how different you looked now?

You were no longer the shiny new toy from before. No longer the sleek sports car. You knew that all of that was crap. That you were a full and complex human being. A person, not an object like a car or toy, but as you stood looking in the mirror, your mind distorted your thoughts.

The holiday inspired lingerie you had put on was subject to your enhanced scrutiny. It was a simple silky deep green backless short nightie that you topped with a Santa hat. Did it highlight the new extra pooch on your belly? Did it show too many stretch marks? Did it make your boobs look lopsided?

You had lost track of how long you had been standing in front of the mirror. So much so that you hadn't noticed the sorcerer that had come looking for you and was watching from the doorway.

You jumped a little when you caught the set of crystal blue eyes glancing at you through the mirror. A little snort and smirk crossed his face and made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

Back when he had tried to be intimidating, when you first arrived, as much as he tried, he could never make you jump. Even though he no longer wanted to intimidate you, he found it funny that he occasionally managed it now. Only after falling head over heels and marrying you. After having a baby with you, only then could he manage to sneak up and startle you.

You rolled your eyes and reached to grab your robe to cover yourself up on reflex. Turning around to see Stephen walking towards you with a sprig of mistletoe dangling in the air above him with the help of his violet colored magic. His long, scarred fingers reaching to pull the robe from your grasp and toss it over onto the bed. Putting it out of your immediate reach.

"I think I just found my Christmas present. No point in trying to hide it now, darling."

He looked your body up and down, studying every inch of you before pulling you to him and wrapping his arms around you. Licking his lips and winking at you flirtatiously.

"Merry Christmas to me indeed. You look gorgeous, my love."

You tried to hide the slight grimace you made at his compliment, but you could see his brows furrow immediately at your reaction. He let one hand drag up your side, letting his fingertips skim your entire body, bringing his index finger to rest under your chin. Gently tilting your face up to look at him. He could see the insecurity in your eyes and it made his heart hurt.

"What's wrong, my queen? Did I say something wrong? Did I forget something?"

His other hand rhythmically rubbing up and down your back trying to soothe and comfort you. His brain cycling through everything he had said and done over the last couple of days. He couldn't stand thinking that he had done something that hurt you.

You shrugged and tried to dismiss his concern. A tight-lipped smile forming on your lips. Swallowing back your thoughts and fears.

"It's nothing, Stephen. It's just me. It's something stupid. Don't worry about it. Let's just enjoy Christmas."

Your heart nearly stopped in your chest when you leaned in to try to kiss him and he pulled back. Your fears suddenly flooded back into the pit of your stomach. The hurt immediately registered on your face. As soon as he realized that you had taken his response as rejection, he quickly addressed

"If it has you upset, sweetheart, it's not nothing. I don't care if it's stupid. I love you more than you will ever know. You are the reason I look forward to each minute of each day. I want you to tell me everything, anything. Now, what has you upset? Why are you trying to hide from me?"

He kissed your forehead and then nuzzled his face against yours lovingly. He truly hated to see you upset, and he wouldn't rest until he found a way to fix whatever was wrong.

"You know how happy I am that we have Donna now, and I love her and you so much it hurts. It scares me sometimes. Things are different now that we have a baby. My body is different now. It's not the one that you loved so much before. Things are jigglier and not as firm now. It doesn't look like anything like it did. You've seen it do things that are pretty much the exact opposite of sexy... I get scared that you won't enjoy or love me as much or get as turned on by me anymore. I don't know what I'd do without your touch, your love."

You wanted to look at the floor. You wanted to crawl into your bed and hide under the covers. You didn't want to feel Stephen's eyes on you as he was pondering what you just confessed. You tried not to think about how insane you might have just sounded. Or worse, if you made perfect sense and were right.

He silently grabbed both your hands in his and pulled you over to sit in your large shared bed. He crawled into the fluffy bedding, sitting with his back against the headboard tight near the mistletoe. Once he was settled he beckoned you over to him, pulling you to him and scooping you up into his lap. Holding you securely in his large arms and pressing a kiss to your neck once he could tell you found a comfy position.

"First of all, thank you for telling me what you've been worrying about. Thank you for trusting me. Second of all, do you really think I would have mistletoe placed all over this haunted house if I wasn't as attracted to you as I was? I know your body is different now. It's different because you grew a human in there. The only other human in this universe. You gave birth to our daughter. You, and this incredible body, gave me something I thought I would never ever have. A family to love and care for. You gave me what was impossible. You are a miracle to me. A goddess, and I will worship you for the rest of my days. I love you more every single day, and that will never change."

He tilted your head to kiss you softly over and over. Sweet and comforting kisses meant to alleviate your fears. Your body started to relax and melt into his. Letting go of the tension and fear in your body.

"And now, as for your worry about me not being turned on by you… do you really think I would magically create and hang all this mistletoe around here if I didn't want any and every excuse I could find to kiss and love on you? It seriously takes every ounce of strength in my body to keep my hands off of you all hours of the day. How seeing you holding our daughter makes me want to get you pregnant all over again. How I was waiting rather impatiently for my present this evening, and how badly I want to unwrap it. To unwrap you, and make love to you. My amazing sexy wife. Mother of my children. The love of my life and the best thing to happen to me. Ever "

Before you could respond, Stephen captured your lips with his. Using every bit of energy he could to squeeze you tight and kiss you breathless. As if his kiss was the punctuation of his statement.

When he finally separated from you he pressed his forehead to yours, the fluff from your Santa hat trapped between you, letting you catch your breath. He fully intended to not let yourself get carried away in negative thoughts. Not when it was Christmas, and not when you were genuinely the most extraordinary being he had ever met.

"Now, are you going to tell me if I'm on the naughty or nice list? I want my present and I was good and hung up the decorations like you asked, but I want very much to be naughty with you. Also, I am going to throw a Grinch sized tantrum if you aren't my present because I will always want you to be my present."

You had to giggle at him. You had always enjoyed teasing him about being a Grinch ever since your first Christmas together. You pulled the Santa hat off of your head and placed it atop Stephen's. Brushing his gray streaked thick brown hair behind his ears as you adjusted the hat. Somewhat surprised he was still patiently sitting still and letting you.

Once you were finished, you looped your hands around his neck and leaned back to get a better view of him. It was at that moment you realized he had sat down on the bed just shy of where the sprig of mistletoe was hanging from the headboard.

"Well, Stephen, it looks like we aren't quite under the mistletoe directly, but I guess it's close enough. So I guess you earned at least a kiss or two."

He snickered at your response. An eyebrow quirked at your attempt to best him. He loved that you would always tease and poke at him. You never let him win easily. Even when it was all play. You matched him wit for wit, and that was something he knew he would only grow to love more.

A glint in his eye as he pointed upward towards the ceiling of the Sanctum. Following his gesture your eyes tracked up toward the ceiling, your mouth falling open in wonder at what you saw.

Suspended and floating amongst a field of shimmering swirling bits of amethyst hued magic were countless sprigs of mistletoe. All shades of green, some with berries, some tied with red bows, and some even looked like they were topped with snowflakes. All looked like they had been created to look picture perfect.

"I was kind of hoping that would get me more than just a couple kisses. What do you think?"

"I think this may just be the perfect Christmas, and you may be the perfect man Stephen Strange."

That entire night, as Christmas Eve turned into the wee hours of Christmas Day, he made love to you. Granting your every wish and assuaging your every concern. Something he would happily spend the rest of his days doing.

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