#which is almost as infrequent as this space

[serratedpens]

I think life is fundamentally difficult. Hectic and brutal—it doesn’t spare an inch, and yet what always gets me to calm is the notion that there is and always will be art. The act of creation in a time of destruction is an act of defiance and an act of hope. Many people can put it better than I can, but art is constant, tiny little explosions in the sky. No matter the grievances you face, art is always waiting for you. A couch to sink into until the next morning.

[tuulikki]

The thing is that the portrayal of Neanderthals as having been inherently grotesque and alien to H. sapiens is something we will never have proof of. But we do have proof that, in different locations and in different populations across time, we all found eachother desirable. We saw eachother and wanted to touch. And the offspring were held by their mothers and raised and had their own offspring in turn.

When you look for the first proof that H. sapiens found Neanderthals repulsive, you have to wait until the Victorian era, when the white masters of empires were busy portraying Neanderthals as stupid, brutish, and (of course) dark-skinned.

In more modern times, we’ve had people arguing that instead of seeing Neanderthals as Benighted Savages, they should instead be seen as Noble Savages, (allegedly) cruelly destroyed and driven from their lands by H. sapiens. Which one of their two you believe says more about your modern political views than it does about ancient H. sapiens.

And, whether we construct Neanderthals as Savage or Noble Savage, the fundamental assumption we project into the unfathomably distant past is still that H. sapiens saw Neanderthals as an Other, with the language we use being almost explicitly that of modern racial dynamics.

But we have no proof of any of that. We have no proof of hostilities. We know we co-existed and we had sex. That’s it.

Humans obviously have sex with some humans and kill others. We also know that, when small groups of humans occupy vast spaces with infrequent contact with others, unique cultures will always form, some more hospitable, some more neophobic/xenophobic. But many cultures of small settlements placed among huge unpeopled landscapes place supreme emphasis on hospitality to strangers. Plus, we fucking love other social animals, as evidenced by how we befriended wolves.

I’m a humourless weirdo and a wet blanket about popular constructions of Neanderthals as “monstrous”, and I freely admit it. But that’s because it’s tied up in legacies of imperialism. Not only that, but it also privileges one culture (yours, mine, modernity’s) as being most human by implicitly assuming we can project it onto people in the past. Since you don’t pretend that all global cultures share exact same values as you do, it doesn’t take more than a few moments’ reflection to realise you can’t do that to the past.

[kropotkindersurprise]

May 27, 2024 - Heads up if you are like me and still have a Facebook account you use infrequently: They're rolling out "AI features" for which they want to use all of your photographs, posts, likes and whatever. There's an opt out possibility at the "Right To Object" link. I don't know if this will work for Americans because you have no consumer protections, but I just filled in my EU country, said the processing impacts me because i'm an artist and my posts are my copyright and I'll sue them under EU law if they use them, and told them to go fuck themselves in the space for additional notes. After verifying my email I almost immediately got the response that my objection will be honored:

Now, this is Meta, so they are almost certainly lying about this, but for the future class action lawsuits against the company it's good to have officially opted out.

[thatguywhodoesstuff]

What about you? What about the Warhammer Chaos gods interests you?

Alright, sorry for the late response, but here’s a point by point rundown on my thoughts on the various Chaos Gods and Chaos as a whole:

Khorne————————

The big man of Chaos and the one (besides Gork and Mork) that is benefiting and reveling the most from the constant battles and wars being waged throughout the franchise. In my opinion, the Lord of Blood’s main appeal to me is his simplicity. He knows what he wants and what he expects of his followers, and while at face value this makes him seem like little else than a blunt instrument, just how raw and utterly human the sensation of overwhelming and all consuming anger is both terrifying and compelling, especially in how it plays into and with Khorne also focusing on a traditional, albeit heavily blood soaked, concept of honor.

Tzeentch—————————

Ah yes, the Changer of Ways, Tzeentch is a tricky one on practically all levels. I will admit Tzeentch isn’t a personal favorite of mine, but I am a big fan of how the various domains he covers overlap and interact, such as showing the dual nature of desiring change which isn’t intrinsically good or bad, the danger of recklessly seeking knowledge, and not to mention the blinding effect unchecked ambition has on people. I can honestly get behind Tzeentch, his followers, and the nebulous, ever changing goals on paper, but the fact there isn’t much in the way of defined parameters regarding what Tzeentch draws power from is a bit of a turnoff.

Nurgle———————

Now we come upon my undisputed favorite amongst the Chaos pantheon. Grandfather Nurgle has a rather personal place in my heart as ever since I was young I’ve struggled with anxiety and fears regarding matters of death, pain, filth, sickness, and feelings of depression. See, when I first got into the Warhammer franchise, I found myself drawn to the Plaguelord and his followers as I felt strangely seen in them.

As for in-universe reasons, I find the paradoxical nature of Nurgle and his followers very intriguing. How this god of death also holds dominion over a twisted form of life. How he expresses his own twisted brand of love by “blessing” whole worlds with nightmarish blights. How his acolytes are all twisted & diseased pseudo corpses that are free of pain & fear of death as they shamble forward across the battlefield. I suppose the best way I can describe my feelings for Nurgle and his grandkids is that I find them sickeningly sweet.

Slaanesh——————

Okay, so I’ll admit Slaanesh honestly unnerves me as someone with obsessive tendencies. Aside from the more… obvious aspects of She Who Thirsts and her followers, what always interested me regarding Slaanesh was the personal connection and enmity it has with the Elvish/Aeldari factions. I will say, I do have one major gripe with how the Slaanesh faction is presented almost strictly in a carnal manner in WH40k and wish they would take more from the more widespread concepts of obsession and overindulgence they have been using in Age of Sigmar.

Malal/Malice———————————

Ah yes, the oft forgotten son of Chaos (and Games Workshop). I don’t have much else to say other than I find the overall aesthetic and concept of a faction that embodies the tendency of Chaos to turn inwards and self destruct to be absolutely phenomenal. 11/11, I really wish we would get more regarding this infrequently mentioned and not completely canon Chaos god and faction.

The Horned Rat—————————————

He’s the self serving god of a race of psychotic rat-men hooked on radioactive moon cheese that literally feeds on desperation and desires little else than to despoil literally everything, which led to him just inserting himself into the empty space left in the Chaos pantheon by Slaanesh’s imprisonment. What’s not to love about him and his manic followers in all the different and innovative ways they manage to manifest their depravity?

Hashut/Vashtorr————

Alright, I’ll admit I don’t have a whole lot to say about Hashut, but I thought I’d discuss these two together given their whole focus on the evils born of unchecked innovation and industrialism. Now, I will say I do find Hashut managing to corrupt and radicalize a whole group of dwarfs into their own subfaction with the promise of better materials/conditions to work with and the ability to wield conventional magic (albeit at a price) rather impressive, having basically carved out his own niche separate from the Primordial Four.

As for Vashtorr, I’m really interested in how the story regarding his quest to become a Fifth Chaos god will unfold, especially given how he’s aligned with the Black Legion, and while its clear that someone is going to get screwed over in that particular partnership, especially since it’s currently unclear who the unlucky party is going to be when that time comes. I also find it very interesting how Vashtorr more or less takes the opposite route of Hashut and instead has ingratiated himself to the Primordial Four via the manufacturing of Daemon Engines, while also being mostly untouchable in the greater scope of the Great Game.

Misc. Other Chaos Gods—

There isn’t much to say about the other Chaos gods as they are either yet to manifest or non-canon. I will say the idea of the Emperor of Mankind being a likely candidate of becoming the Fifth Chaos god is something I absolutely love and wish was more fleshed out aside from the rare references to the Dark King and the Star Child. I mean, common, it’s just so poetic that the man that spent thousands upon thousands of years busting his hump trying to elevate humanity and protect them from the forces of Chaos becoming just like the very beings he sought to starve and extinguish with his Imperial Truth and possibly condemning mankind, if not the entirety of existence, just like Slaanesh condemned the Aeldari. I get it’s something on such a massive scale that it’s just not feasible to properly tackle without massive effort on Games Workshop’s part, but it’s still something fascinating to explore.

Also, shout-out to the non-canon Necoho the Doubter and Zuvassin the Undoer for literally being the Renegade Chaos gods of atheism and plans going awry respectively.

Chaos Undivided—————

I suppose to answer the question of what draws me to Chaos is the fact it’s a dark mirror of the rawest, truest parts of humanity. It’s a corruptive force literally born from the minds of mortals and true to human nature, people try to rationalize it, direct it, wield it, only to invariably fail and fall deeper into its clutches. Chaos comes in so many forms and in some there are shades of good, yet it’s all clouded by the horrors it brings. It’s like an exploration of the human condition and yet, at the same time Chaos is in a way a literal man made hell, and that fact just fascinates me on a near morbid level.

I’m sorry that this was such a long read, but I hope this answered your question.

[pep-the-artemis]

I have sat in some really nice cars and some really dingy trains but I've never once sat in a train and thought 'I wish I was in a car right now'

I'm serious, if trains were invented today by Elon Musk they would be described as the greatest invention of all time.

Trains are amazing on so many accounts,

Safer - its amazing how vehicles traveling along pre-ordained paths controlled by experienced workers is safe.

quieter - Outside of trains they're so infrequent that most of the time it's quiet. Inside of trains its jus quieter physically and also is a more consistent, its like white noise so I find it almost pleasant.

faster - trains go vroom vroom

efficient - both in fuel consumption and movement of people/goods.

smaller footprint - a train track is about 1.5m wide while. a single lane road is about 3.5m (ignoring pavements) and due to their higher efficiency you don't need as many multiple lanes. Also for every car sold its estimated 3 car parking spots are built which take up so much space.

luxurious - this is an opinion but i think its a strong one; in trains you're able to stand up do to it being safer and no need of seatbelts; you don't have to do anything except get on and off (in cars you have to do a thing called drive); trains travel at constant speeds so the journey is less jerky; access to small or sometimes large tables; more legroom; etc...

night trains - some trains which run overnight have beds which aren't the best but lying flat is luxuries when trying to sleep.

cheaper - cost of fuel, workers, maintenance is spread across all users and so is cheaper than cars which you have to pay for all of the above.

You may be thinking, trains are pretty cool but you can't just build train tracks through the middle of cities like roads; well let me introduce you to a marvellous invention, baby trains (trams). they are the inner city version of trains and full of there own advantages.

disability friendly - due to the tracks being imbedded into the ground they pose little tripping risk especially for elderly and disabled. Also less cars is just safer overall.

human friendly - due to there slow speeds and preordained paths, they're very easy for people to avoid and so can coexist in areas with people. This is a stark contrast to cars which dominate and own any surface they touch.

retake the streets - without cars streets return to the people meaning; children can play outside again, existing outside is better, more space for stuff like public markets.

[yeahspider]

BITTERSUITE 🌀

Ve's note - angsty and sexy just how i like it. im sick off my ass and eating animal crackers a s i write this but i feel like thats when i work best. hwang hyunjin x gn!reader no warnings this is pretty tame all things considered. hope you enjoy this installment in the series !! link below to read the other parts. lightly proofread (sorry not sorry give me a break I'm sick) love yall xoxo

HMHAS MASTERLIST

this wouldn’t have happened if you’d grabbed your umbrella before you left your room. now you are sitting on a bus stop bench hiding from the rain. you blamed it on him, always bringing rain and storm clouds in his wake. your phone went off- it could only be one person.

what are you doing sitting in the rain

this can't be how you spend your time now

kinda pathetic

you looked around not shocked at all that he was sitting on an identical bench on the opposite side of the road . he always had a way of finding you . it’s like there was a red string tethering you to him . his inner navigation always leading to you .

you blocked his contact . you didn’t want to deal with him. you just wanted to get home. your action just made hyunjin smile. always so cocky. always finding you amusing.

nothing was amusing about your relationship . about the way he tethered you along for months . feeding you empty lies . comforting you with open arms that wrapped around you and tied you hands behind your back . bound is what you were . to the evil that was hwang hyunjin .

you watched as a bus stopped in front of him, relief filtered through you once the bus drove off and he wasnt at the bench anymore. maybe he wasn't there at all. he had a habit if popping up at your low points. settling back in the bench youve becom e so familar with , you start browsing through your gallery . A feeble attempt at wasting time. A certain picture stopped you in your tracks. It was of you and hyunjin, from the begiining of whatever you guys were. His hand wrapped around your front gripping your throat as he kisses the lower part if your ear. A frown makes its home on your face, yiu look so happy - you were happy.

"oh, i love that pic mind sending it to me". you hear from above your shoulder. how predictable he was.

"What do you want hyunjin?" you asked in malice. you didn't want to speak to him right now. the wound he created in your heart all too fresh and steady leaking. you couldn't do this with him right now. all you had wanted was to get something from the gas station. you weren't mentally prepared to deal with him or his stupid smile.

"Now who says I want anything? Maybe I just missed you." his tone is so sickeningly sweet you almost fall for it. almost. You intend to trace your steps back to your hotel room by getting up and stepping out of the safety of the bus stop. quickening your pace to avoid whatever conversation he wanted to have. you could hear him following, his step in time with you. It wasn't like you could hide from him. The suite your staying in he paid for. His attempt at giving you the space you wanted, but within his unrelenting reach. A part of you rejoiced at his effort, his show of care, which was infrequent throughout your time together.

the chase ensued as you stepped into the hotel lobby and up the elevator. standing in front of room 320. turning quickly to face the tormentor of your dreams. you took in his appearance. Soaked from head to toe yet still undeniably beautiful drops slipping from his hair and landing at his feet. you can still see the man you fell in love with. underneath all the layers the world forced him to wear. you took a deep breath hoping you wouldn't regret your next words.

"you can come in until the rain stops...I have a set of dry clothes you can put on," you said as low as a whisper. which of course he heard. for all his shortcomings he always did hear you. That smile that causes a bittersuite taste rises in your mouth spreads across his face. you'd always let him in, your heart was his home after all.

[scripts4dreamers]

Leave a light on pt. 3

AN: Part 3 is heeeeeerreeeee! My little 50 page fic has turned into an 87 page fic (and counting), so these are going to keep coming. Thank you again to everyone who's said nice things about this fic. it means a lot.

Part One, Part Two, Part Four

Solas’ healing was remarkable. It took several days for him to get his mobility back to where he had been before the battle with the archdemon but, considering that Amala had been planning to track his healing in weeks, if not months, she considered it a marvel. Sometimes, when they ate together, or when Solas consented to sit still long enough for her to manually check on the progress of his wounds and burns, she could physically see them healing over. It was like…well, it was like magic.

Outside of that things had been progressing slowly. Solas was giving her space, which she appreciated, and they had fallen into a comfortable routine. Every morning after they woke and prepared for the day, they would meet in the library for breakfast. After breakfast, Solas would wish her well and leave, slipping through the Eluvian into the wider fade. He was searching for something, though whether it was a physical something or more of an emotional something she wasn’t quite sure. If she asked she knew he would tell her, but every time she opened her mouth to actually do that, she hesitated. Amala would then spend the day exploring the lighthouse, building bridges to the surrounding islands and learning as many of their secrets as she could. They would meet in the dining room for dinner, spend hours discussing their various findings and then slowly make the walk back to their respective chambers and say goodnight. On her own in her chambers, Amala would then document the things she had seen and felt around the different islands and read through her past entries to see if she could figure out any patterns. She would bathe, dress for sleep and then lie awake in bed and replay every interaction in her head, painfully aware that Solas was just a short walk away.

Things between them were still fragile. After the day when she’d helped bathe him, touch between them became infrequent and always happened in passing. It was as though they had both realised how dangerous that kind of physical closeness was and they were afraid to shatter one another. At first that made sense. After all they were both recovering from more injuries than they could count but, as time continued to pass and even their darkest bruises faded from black, to purple and then to green, the softness began to feel strained. They orbited around one another, trading looks and smiles, but never quite closing the distance. Occasionally she would touch Solas’ shoulder as she moved around him to reach a glass, or he would place his hand on the small of her back and usher her out of his way in the library. When they walked back from the dining hall they were close enough that the backs of their hands brushed, but it never went further than that. It was almost funny. If someone had told the Amala who snuck into Solas’ tent every other night that one day she would hesitate to hold his hand in the dark, she would have laughed right in their face, but here they were.

Part of it was Solas giving her space. She knew that. Part of it was him wrestling his own demons and part of it was a personal discomfort she had over what she called “the Mythal of it all”. It hadn’t always been a problem. At first Amala had barely even noticed but, as the days wore on… Mythal was everywhere. Statues, murals, books. Everywhere Amala turned there was some depiction of Mythal, and right by her side, every time, was Solas. At first Amala figured that she must be jealous, but it wasn’t quite that. Even when her and Solas had first met she had known that he was older than her and probably more experienced. There had never been any sort of illusion that they were each other's' firsts. It wasn’t even hard for her to accept that Fen’Harel may have had a romantic relationship with Mythal. It was translating that romantic relationship to her, and to her relationship with Solas that Amala couldn’t wrap her head around.

Solas had tried holding her hand once. They had been leaning against the wolf statue in the courtyard, admiring the night sky and discussing nothing of importance when she had felt him shift closer, his fingers brushing against hers and staying there. As always, his skin against hers had made her feel like she was touching the stars. Her whole body had shivered. She had wanted to let him hold her hand. She had wanted to close that last bit of distance and kiss him but, as she decided to, she caught sight of one of the Mythal statues, towering over the stairs, watching her with its blank, featureless face and Amala had pulled away instead.

It was one thing, she figured, for the love of your life to have loved someone more than you once. Sure, fine, that made sense. It was one thing to learn that you were not the love of your life’s love of their life. Sure, fine. Hurtful maybe, but not ultimately too much of a problem. Amala could accept that. It was another thing entirely for the love of your life’s love of their life to be Mythal, the Protector, the All-Mother and to be constantly surrounded by depictions of them together thousands and thousands of years before you were even born. It was more than an emotional crisis, it was an epistemic nightmare. So, yes, maybe she was being a little more distant than she wanted to be.

In these moments of crisis, Caretaker had become her saving grace. They were not the most emotionally responsive confidant, but they always managed to make her feel better and they always listened.

“The Wolf would be able to answer your questions more effectively than I can, Dweller,” they always said, “perhaps when he returns from the Crossroads, you can ask him.”

“Perhaps,” she always agreed, with absolutely no intention of following through.

If Caretaker could have sighed, they certainly would have.

—-

The peace couldn’t last forever. Something eventually had to snap. It happened at dinner, after Amala had just finished explaining the magic of a nearby island that held a seemingly bottomless pool in the centre. Solas had been listening intently, as he always did, smiling as she spoke and asking relevant questions, basking in the simple pleasure of being with her, of hearing her happiness.

The wine was strong, the food was good and Solas was starting to feel the slightest bit tipsy when something Amala said caught his attention, “You should come see it. There are flowers and ancient willows all around. It’s beautiful if you can get past the Mythal of it all.”

The moment the words left her lips, he could see that she wanted to die. She pressed her lips together and she avoided eye contact, clearly hoping to pass it off as nothing. Solas, of course, knew her far too well for that.

“The Mythal of it all?” he questioned with a confused smile, “What exactly is the Mythal of it all?”

Amala shrugged, “It’s nothing. Ignore me. The pool is beautiful and you should visit if you have time.”

“Amala-” he started to insist

“The Dweller is referring to the various depictions of you and Mythal that are scattered around the lighthouse, Dread Wolf,” Caretaker spoke up, refilling Solas’ glass and seemingly pretending not to see the daggers Amala was staring into their head, “she finds them difficult, emotionally and intellectually she finds her emotional reaction to them confusing. It has been causing a great deal of distress.”

“Thanks for that, Caretaker,” she grumbled, her face so hot with shame that it looked like it must physically hurt.

Solas was stunned. Without meaning to, he began sorting through his memories looking for signs of discomfort in his Inquisitor. He tried to put himself in her shoes, but there were so many factors that just didn’t transfer that he couldn’t help but think he did a poor job of it. How had he missed her unhappiness? How had Caretaker seen something that he, himself had not?

He was quiet for a while, long enough for Amala to force herself to look at him to see his reaction. He avoided her eye, feeling a strange mixture of confusion and shame. He walked through the lighthouse in his mind, flushing with embarrassment as he realised the true extent of Mythal’s presence. He had grown so accustomed to this place that he barely noticed anymore. His attention was always so squarely on one of two things; Amala, on where she was and how she was feeling, or on how he could atone for his endless list of sins that he hadn’t even noticed the giant stone elephant in the room. He sighed, feeling his age for the first time in ages and braced himself for a conversation he did not want to have. It seemed that, no matter how hard he tried, he was always making some sort of mistake.

He finally said, “Amala, I am so sorry. I had not considered that being here might be uncomfortable for you.”

Amala opened her mouth to speak, closed it and then pushed her chair away from the dining room table, disappearing into the pantry. His chest clenched with panic. She was slipping through his fingers again. She had realised the mistake she had made in loving him. He had finally pushed her too far. He-

Solas started to ask where she was going but, before he could finish, she returned, carrying four bottles of wine.

“If we’re going to do the relationship post mortem, I am going to need to be a great deal more drunk,” she announced, “you’re welcome to join me if you wish.”

Relief. Palpable, irrational relief.

“Oh I do wish,” Solas immediately agreed, uncorking a bottle and pouring them each a very full cup.

In unison they each downed it, pulling faces as the wine burned its way down their throats. Solas immediately refilled their cups.

“This is such a bad idea,” Amala said, drinking deep.

Solas shrugged, downing his second glass, “We’ve had worse.”

Almost immediately, he began to feel the effect. That was the problem with the fade, it heightened things, made them more vivid and alive. Usually that was something Solas appreciated but, as he physically felt the alcohol start to loosen his muscles and go to his head, he could acknowledge that it was also fairly dangerous

Amala laughed, watching him pour a third glass and gesture for her to get on finishing her second, “Oh now this is a surprise. You almost never drank with us back in the Inquisition days.”

He finished his glass in two deep gulps and poured another one, “During the Inquisition days I was trying to hide the fact that I was a secret elven god and also the cause of all our troubles. Being drunk would have made that significantly more difficult.”

She raised her eyebrows incredulously and the look - that look of fond exasperation - was so familiar that Solas had to physically hold himself back from leaning forward to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth, on the spot where he could see her smile just starting to form.

Too soon, he told himself. Far too soon, but someday…

The thought alone made him shiver.

“What, the Dread Wolf can’t drink and lie?” She asked teasingly, snapping Solas out of his daydreaming, “I’m disappointed.” She took a deep drink from her cup, seemingly as an excuse to break eye contact before continuing, “And, wait a second, aren’t you the one who’s constantly harping on about how you’re not an elven god?”

“I never said I couldn’t drink and lie,” he replied, “I only said it would make it more difficult. What I couldn’t do at the time was drink, lie and remember all the very good reasons I had for not sleeping with the Inquisitor. I’ve been told that’s a common problem with alcohol.”

Amala snorted, “Isn’t that the truth.”

“And, alright, I’m not an elven god, I’m a very old, very powerful immortal elven mage who waged war on the Titans and then the Evanuris, locking them in a prison I built by creating a veil that separated our world from magic. Somehow I don’t think that distinction would have mattered much when Bull stuck a horn through my stomach for giving the orb to Corypheus.” Solas pointed out, realising with growing mortification just how drunk he was becoming.

It was worth it though. She threw her head back and let out a roaring laugh, the exact laugh he sometimes caught just a hint of in his dreams. His Inquisitor had always had the kind of laugh that made everyone around her laugh as well, like she made things brighter just by seeing the humor in them.

“Alright, alright, that’s fair,” she conceded, still chuckling, “damn, I forgot how sassy you can be.”

“I am not sassy!” Solas insisted.

“You are sassy, and you’re a lightweight,” she continued, finishing her glass and giving him a nod of thanks when he immediately refilled it.

“I prefer the term sardonic,” he corrected, “and you, my dear, are deflecting.”

Amala pulled a face, “I am not! I’m just not drunk enough for all of that yet. Keep teaching me what words I should call you instead of sassy while I drown my inhibitions in this-” she looked at the bottle, which had no label, “what even is this?”

Solas shrugged, feeling warmer and lighter than he had in ages, “There’s no way to tell. Some of the bottles here date back to before the fall of the Evanuris.”

Amala, who had just taken a swig, choked, “What?” she spluttered, coughing, “You’re telling me that this wine could be over a thousand thousand years old?”

He took the bottle from her hands and inspected it, “Probably not this specific bottle, but that one-” he gestured to one of the others she had brought out, “that one I distinctly remember.”

“Well then fuck this bottle,” she said, turning to the one he had pointed at, “I want to try the pre-veil wine.”

Solas couldn’t help but laugh, delighted by how fearless his Inquisitor always was when faced with the unknown world. It had never stopped surprising him how she approached everything with curiosity, with the sincere hope that the next thing around the corner would be something wonderful rather than something terrifying. If he had ever been that way then it had been so long ago that he couldn’t remember it. She passed the bottle to him, her eyes wide with reverence as he twisted the cork off. It opened with a loud pop and Amala let out a burst of laughter, clapping as though the bottle had just performed some sort of delightful magic trick. He poured them both a glass of the pale golden liquid, pleased to see that the bubbles had not dissipated over the years and handed one to her. She accepted with a smile, a real, unguarded one and Solas felt his heart stutter in his chest. Their fingers brushed, electricity shot through his body and he felt the instinctual urge to pull away. Luckily, the contact only lasted a second.

“So,” he asked after she had taken a sip, “what do you taste?”

She closed her eyes, humming with pleasure as the flavor coated her tongue and slid down her throat. Solas felt his face get hot.

“It’s-strange,” she eventually said, her eyes still closed, “I guess it tastes like that moment when you’re out with friends and you’re all drunk and you’re all walking home together and someone starts to sing. Like that specific kind of fuzzy, hazy togetherness, with your feet echoing on the ground as one and your voices getting all tangled up in the air.” she opened her eyes again and looked at him, “What was that?”

“Wine,” he answered simply, “before Elgar’nan burned away so many of the things our people used to feel. What you just experienced was the specific emotion the winemaker infused this vintage with. It used to be that sampling wines was like sampling the memories of the winemaker themselves. Each one was completely unique, completely singular.”

Amala stared into her cup with pure wonder, “That’s incredible. I can see now why our nights at the Herald probably seemed tame to you.”

“Oh no,” Solas assured with a laugh, taking a deep swig from his own glass and sighing as the feeling pulled him in, “I tried whatever it was the Iron Bull kept drinking. Once.”

She chuckled, “Ah, Bull. He was always such a riot.”

“He did keep one on their toes, yes,” Solas agreed.

“And he never gave me shit unless I deserved it,” She said, “he never let all the Inquisitor stuff scare him off.” She was quiet for a moment, teetering on the edge of sad, “I’m going to miss the big lug.”

He wanted to say something, but there were no words. If it weren’t for him, she would be home right now. She could pack up and visit the Iron Bull whenever she wanted. There would be a whole world full of people who adored her right at her fingertips. Instead she just had him. A poor substitute. A bad deal. He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat and drank deep.

“Do you want to know something terrible?” She asked, something dark and intriguing flickering in her eyes.

Solas held her gaze, letting her see his sincerity, “Nothing you say could ever be terrible to me.”

She scrunched up her nose, but he could tell she was pleased, or at least placated.

“I don’t think I’ll miss much.” she admitted, “A handful of people, my favorite bakery and that’s it. Everything else can go fuck itself. The Inquisition, the Imperium, Orlais, Ferelden, the Free Marches, the Chantry, the Templars, the Grey Wardens. Everyone who ever forced me to risk my life cleaning up their fucking messes only to blame me for it afterwards can piss right off. I’m done.”

She pushed herself up, swaying ever so slightly as she made her way to the fireplace, leaning against one of the stone wolves that stood guard at its side. Solas turned in his seat, following her with his eyes and feeling the thrumming pulse of tension as it started to swim right below the surface. Her anger, even subdued like it was now, was magnetic. He had always loved seeing her like this, taking charge of herself, taking charge of her destiny and flinging the expectations of others right back in their faces. Solas had learned long ago that you could push and push and push Amala, and she would try to be accommodating. To a point. Once that point was reached, you had better pray to the gods and take cover, because nothing in all of creation could keep her down.

“Good,” he said honestly, “I always thought that people were far too comfortable asking you to die for them.”

She scrunched up her nose again, “For the cause, technically.”

Solas rolled his eyes, “For them. If others could make the sacrifice and they continuously expected it to come from you then they were asking you to die for them.”

“You died for me once,” she said, so softly that Solas almost missed it.

The simmering tension spiked to a roiling heat and he could feel her gaze on him, heavy with expectation. This time it was him avoiding meeting her eyes as he floundered for the right words. He thought about that lost year often but they had almost never discussed it, at Amala’s insistence. Whenever Solas had tried she would clam up, blinking back tears and ask him to please just leave it alone. Except once.

It had happened right at the beginning of everything, when he was still struggling with his feelings for her, when he had started to accept that it was a pointless fight, that he was already drowning. Still, when he’d found her sobbing her eyes out on the battlements in the pitch black and she’d broken down enough to tell him the full story of what had happened, it had shaken him. It is an odd feeling to stand in front of a woman you have not even kissed yet, who you have barely even touched outside of your darkest and most private dreams, and know that in one year’s time you would lay down your life to save her without a second’s hesitation. In a way it made things much simpler. It had forced him to stop fighting his feelings, anyway.

He took another deep drink and refilled his cup, “I would have died for you a thousand times over if it were necessary.”

Amala sighed and let her eyes drift shut, though whether it was to ward off his words or to better drink them in, he couldn’t say. The wine made everything soft and beautiful, made his already fragile sense of self control feel like an unjustifiable weight on his shoulders that he itched to just throw off, but he held himself back. The last thing he wanted was to shatter the fragile peace they had carved for themselves.

“You can’t say things like that to me,” she said, “not while I’m drunk. You’re going to give me ideas.”

Fuck it, Solas was nothing if not an opportunist. He pushed himself up and made his way towards where she was standing and leaning against the fireplace. He moved slowly, reaching for her while still giving her plenty of time to pull away if he was overstepping. She stayed, her eyes sharp and wary as he moved closer.

“What kind of ideas?” he asked, feeling his blood thrum under his skin as his hands found her hips.

She closed her eyes again, “Bad ones.”

“Tell me about them.”

She laughed, meeting his gaze and leaning ever so slightly forward, into his touch, “They’re really bad.”

“I highly doubt that,” Solas teased, “outside of your inexplicable choice to continue to believe in me, you have world class judgment.”

“Not this time,” she assured.

He pushed his luck, leaning in so that his lips almost brushed her ear when he whispered, “Tell me anyway.”

Amala shivered and Solas felt a deep, primal sense of satisfaction at still being able to draw out those kinds of reactions from her. Perhaps all was not lost, perhaps things between them were not so broken that he could never hope to fix them. They still had chemistry, they could still talk.

Agonizingly, she pulled away, putting that dreaded, hated space in between their bodies again. Solas wanted to scream, but the pained look in Amala’s eye soothed the rough, fraying edges of his control. He was not alone in this pain. She still wanted him, there was just something in the way.

“I think I’m drunk enough to talk about it now,” she said with a resigned sigh.

It? What were they-? It took Solas a second to remember how their conversation had started - damned wine - but once he did, the pieces started to slot into place.

“Mythal.” He said.

“Mythal,” she agreed. She downed the rest of the wine in her cup in one, “I’m not uncomfortable per say,” she eventually started, “I just-” she gestured helplessly, “she’s everywhere, Solas. I can’t go five seconds without seeing some picture, or statue or mural of the two of you together. The walls are painted with your deepest regrets about hurting her. There’s a room whose key is literally just turning giant statues of the two of you to make them look at one another.”

Something in his chest pinched and he couldn’t help but smile. Of course she figured out the statue puzzle. Of course she had uncovered another one of his secrets, “You found the music room, then?”

“I unlocked a door, yes, but I never went inside.” she admitted.

“Why not?” he asked, cocking his head to the side, “I had thought, with your curiosity, you wouldn’t have been able to resist.”

Amala crossed her arms over her chest, something Solas knew she did when she felt vulnerable, as though her arms could create a barrier between her and the world, “I figured that, if you had wanted people to see what was inside there, you wouldn’t have hidden it behind a door that was locked with a massive statue puzzle.”

“A very fair observation,” he smiled, “but now I’m deflecting, we were talking about Mythal.”

She sighed, “It really isn’t important, Solas.”

That stung. She hadn’t meant anything by it, he knew that, but every time she pulled away, every time he asked her what she was thinking and she brushed him off he was reminded of how easy things used to be between them. There had been a time when Amala would just appear in his room and they would spend hours talking about nothing. They had been each others’ confidants. Sometimes Solas longed for a return to that closeness so much that it actually hurt.

Give her time, he reminded himself. You both need time to heal.

“If it is important enough that Caretaker has noticed, that means it is important to you. If it is important to you, it is important to me.” he replied simply, leaning forward slightly to catch her eye, “Tell me what’s on your mind, Vhenan.”

The wine was strong. He could see it affecting Amala. He could still feel it affecting him, loosening his tongue, lowering his carefully constructed inhibitions and heightening his emotions. He clenched his hands into fists at his side to keep them from reaching for her again.

She took a breath, her brow furrowed as she carefully selected each word through, what he could only assume was, a thick fog of drunkenness, “I just don’t quite know how to deal with all of this,” she finally admitted, “I don’t know where I fit. The two of you together, that makes a sort of sense, doesn’t it? You were spirits together, gods together. You forged a body out of lyrium because she asked you to, you went to war for her, you killed Titans for her. She was the great love of your life, it makes sense that she would be memorialised here.” she paused, thinking again before she continued, “But I don’t know where that leaves me, exactly. For most of my life, Mythal was the All-Mother. We prayed to her, we left offerings in her name. I have family members who still wear her Vallaslin. Comparatively, I’m just some woman who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Conceptualising Mythal as a real person, as the man I love’s great love…I suppose I’m just struggling with my place in it.”

Her words fell like stones and settled hard in Solas’ chest. They weren’t meant as a condemnation but hearing her talk, hearing the twists and breaks in her voice, the pain and confusion, it made him flush with shame nonetheless. Was there no end to the damage he had done? Amala had always been head strong, confident in her capabilities but measured in her judgments. The way she spoke about his relationship with Mythal…it was like it was an incontrovertible fact, like she had always been second to Mythal, like she belonged beneath Mythal. It was familiar. It was heartbreaking. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Solas tried to keep his voice gentle when he spoke again, “You believe that Mythal was the great love of my life?”

She shot him an incredulous look that was undercut in its severity by the soft sadness in her eyes, “Don’t do that. I’m not arrogant enough to believe that a year with mortal, Dalish, non-mage me measures up to a goddess you spent centuries with. Look at all you did for Mythal.”

“I did do a lot for Mythal,” he admitted, “I also murdered her, if you remember,” he countered.

“Alright, fair,” she conceded.

“And what makes you think I care about you not being a mage?” He asked, “I understand I haven’t always been the kindest about the Dalish, which is unfair of me, and you being a mortal did raise some concerns but-”

“You are terrible at comforting people,” Amala interrupted with a sad chuckle. She raised her hand to her eye and, to Solas’ horror, wiped away a single sliver of wetness, “any other ways I was deficient then?”

“Vhenan-”

His resolve cracked and he stepped towards her again and gently touched her shoulders. She turned her head so that he couldn’t see her face, but she didn’t push him away, which Solas took as a good sign.

“Look, I get it,” she said, her voice just the slightest bit shaky, “you loved her, she’s gone. I get to spend an eternity in a shrine to you both. Let’s just move on, alright?”

“You are not deficient,” Solas insisted, “I am drunk and you know I can get caught on little details but what I was trying to say-”

“It doesn’t matter, i-”

“Yes it does!” he interrupted, “It does because it is clear to me now that you have no idea what you mean to me. It’s my fault, of course, I was so hell bent on keeping my distance and minimizing the fall out that I never actually said the words. I am so sorry, Vhenan, truly. My only defense is that I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?” she replied, her eyes locked downwards, away from him.

He wanted to give her space. He wanted to back away, to fold his hands behind his back and explain calmly and clearly. He wanted to be Wisdom in that moment, because wisdom had never steered him wrong but, with his Inquisitor - his Amala - so close and the wine pumping through his veins, he was just a man.

“Look at me,” he said quietly. Her eyes stayed trained on the ground. Solas sighed and cupped her face with his hands, tilting her head up to meet his gaze, “I will not lie to you and say that I did not hunger for Mythal’s approval. I did. I always have, but she was not and will never be the great love of my life. After the way I have treated you, it’s only natural that you would feel as though I valued your love less than Mythal’s. I see that, I understand it, but please hear me when I say that I have never loved another as deeply or as ruinously as I love you. I may have forged a physical body for myself to please Mythal, but I had never felt like it was truly mine until I touched you. For centuries I had felt ugly and twisted and wrong in this body. It was a constant reminder of my failures, of my weakness, but you-” he shook his head, “you changed everything. You change everything.”

“You’ve said that to me before,” Amala said softly.

“I know,” Solas smiled, “but it bears repeating. Amala, when I called you my heart for the first time, I did not do that lightly. I have lived a very long time, and I have loved very many people, but I am still a man. I still have only one heart, and it belongs to you. If it will make you happy, I will tear down every statue in this building and repaint the walls. Hells, I’ll build you an entirely new lighthouse if you want me to.”

She chuckled, “That is perhaps a bit excessive.”

“Well,” Solas conceded, letting the tension break, “no one has ever accused me of thinking too small.”

Amala laughed gently again and he savored the simple pleasure of being the person that made her smile.

“True enough,” she agreed, taking a step back and sheepishly meeting his eye again, “I’m sorry for ruining our night.”

He let her go, though every centimeter between them felt like a mile.

“No, Vhenan. You ruined nothing. We have…” he considered his words carefully, very aware that he was still drunk, “it had to be said.”

“Ten years apart is a long time,” she agreed, taking a seat at the table.

Something in his chest softened with relief. She wasn’t leaving him yet. He followed her example and retook his seat.

“Too long,” he replied.

“Is that so? And whose fault is that?” she continued, with a hint of her old teasing tone.

He raised his glass, silently swearing that she could mock him for the rest of time so long as she kept looking at him like that, “Add it to my list of sins.”

“Where on the list?”

“The very top, of course,” he teased back, taking another sip and relishing her fond, if exasperated, smile.

So long as he could keep her smiling, he thought to himself, everything will have been worth it. Maybe it was the wine talking but, in that moment, Solas could not think of anything he would rather do with his existence than make Amala Lavellan smile.

[ilydeku]

sweet, just like you | senku x reader

Winds of the fall guided themselves through the open window as you leaned against its frame, gazing off into the star-speckled night. That telescope that proudly stood next to you. It was a representation of everyone's effort, everyone's appreciation, everyone's faith. All because of Senku Ishigami. You smiled at the thought as you took a glance at its structure. What a truly remarkable man, indeed.

"Hey, you're gonna be totally useless to me tomorrow if you don't go to sleep. I need you to crush some minerals for me tomorrow."

Speak of the devil.

You paid no mind to him, the soft creaking of wood growing closer signaled his upcoming. Senku rested against the stair railing after reaching the high floor, watching you in silence. He figured maybe you wanted to get some fresh air, but something felt off after a few minutes, which seemed almost like hours. Were you mad at him? He didn't remember doing or saying anything that could harm you. Were you homesick? Nah. You weren't the type to get all sentimental. Senku knows you how you are, now more than ever since he first revived you, but there were probably things still unknown to him. The only way he was going to get answers was to ask directly from the source.

"...so what's up with you? It's not like you to stay up this late. You love to sleep and you sleep like a damn rock, at that."

"Pfft," A light chuckle escaped from your throat. "Why do you care, Senku? It's not like you to ask about someone's feelings. You got a crush on me or something?" You teased, slightly turning your head to get a good look at his humored expression.

"Psh. On you? Not even one millimeter." he retorted, to which you laughed at, walking across the room and gazing out the window alongside you. He let out a breathy sigh before asking you again, in a more genuine way. "Really now, y/n, what's wrong?"

The stars in the sky illuminated the sea of night, but right now, they were glowing brighter than ever.

"Hahh, Senku. There's nothing wrong at all."

"Then why aren't you sleeping?"

"If I told you, you'd probably cringe."

"..." He turned to you, curious as to what you had to offer. "Oh, really now?" A warm feeling rushed through your body as you felt your arms touch. Senku joined you in your midnight gaze, allowing himself to be closer to you. "Tell me, what's on your mind?"

"...It's just that..." You took a deep breath in and a deep breath out. "Looking at all this, all these things we've built, sciency things you've come up with...I realized that I've taken a lot of things for granted in life..." Your eyebrows furrowed as your mind remained on the times you've been negative about in the past, guilt coercing through your form. "I never really stopped to appreciate the things around me; the world we live in, the birds in the sky, the people around me, in fact, I don't even remember the last I told my parents I love them..." You dragged your wrist across your eyelids, attempting to rid of any formation of tears. Senku didn't know what to do at the moment. He didn't know whether to give you space to cry or to come a little closer, as he never comforted anyone before, let alone be this close to one. He thought about hugging you, but he felt that that'd be weird, considering that that's just something he doesn't do. So, he did the next best thing.

"..." His hand hovered above yours. He hesitated, just before resting his hand on top of yours. His fingers delicately indented themselves in between your knuckle, rubbing soft infrequent movements with them. He had his head turned away so you wouldn't see the glow on his face. His attempt at intimate comfort made you grin. You looked down at your hands together and back outside over the village.

"...There's just so many things I turned my head from, so many things I miss. I never took the time to just slow down and open my eyes to anything..."

"..."

"...I miss sitting in a classroom, listening to lectures, and taking notes, even if they were boring. I wish I had paid more attention in class." Senku let out a light chuckle, squeezing your knuckle slightly.

"You say that as if you weren't passing all your classes."

"Okay, and? Maybe I could've gotten straight A pluses instead of just As."

"Pfft. You're really something."

"..."

"..."

"You know what I do miss though, Senku?..Chocolate. That's something I've really taken for granted. That long process of collecting cacao beans and crushing them and whatever else they do to it to turn it into chocolate. My mom always bought boxes of chocolates for me to snack on while I studied. It'd sit right at the corner of my desk. And every time she noticed the box running out, I'd immediately find it replaced with a new one...haha..." You dragged your wrist across your eye once more. "...I guess she thought chocolates were the source of my intelligence or something. Man, and those chocolates were the good kind too, the ones with different fillings and stuff...I'd love to have a taste of them again...-"

"You know, I wasn't gonna say anything at first because you seemed really passionate in what you were saying and I uh..well, appreciate that you're open to me..." You turned your gaze to him and smiled. You've never seen Senku being genuine before. "...but now here you are being emotional over a box of chocolates, y/n. That's kinda cringe," Senku joked, laughing to himself. Your smile quickly faded...into a smirk.

"I knew you'd say that regardless, but look at you, Romeo," you retorted, referring to his hand. "Seems like you do have feelings for me, Senku. Look how close we are-" He quickly took his hand away and covered his face with his arm, hiding the light redness in his cheeks and taking a few steps back.

"Oh, shut up, y/n." You chuckled softly, standing up straight and stretching your arms above your head. "You should really go to sleep, now that you've got that all out." You kneeled down on the wood floor and readied your clothed blankets.

"Yeah don't worry, I am. Goodnight, Senku."

"Night." He made is way over the the steep of stairs, but before he began making his way down, you stopped him."

"Hey, Senku? Thanks for listening to me. It's not often I get to speak my mind to someone."

"Don't get it twisted. I only listened because you said I'd probably cringe, but...you're welcome. Now, go to sleep." He replied as he continued down the stairs. As you wrapped yourself in your blanket, a smile made its way across your lips as your eyes closed, the memory of Senku laying his hand across yours replaying through your eyelids. Senku fell asleep with a sound thought in mind. Chocolates, huh? Pfft. Alright then.

.

A few days went by, Senku being right at your side. Staying up with you for a bit had started to become a regular event unestablished between the both of you, chatting about anything and everything. You wondered why he suddenly became so easy to talk to. It's like you've known him for years, well you have, but through those years, you were never really this close and never struck up deep conversations. It was nice. You treasured every second of them, and so did Senku.

The more conversations you had with him, the more and more he learned from you. Every day was another thing he'd find out about you, which would lead him to more things he wanted to know. For the first time in his life, it wasn't science that was embedded in the driver's seat.

One night you arrived at Senku's place early. All the tasks he especially assigned to you were finished, all thanks to your gorilla-like strength as he calls it, which you always shoot back at by targetting his weak little science nerd arms. You figured today that maybe, finally, you'd get to sleep early, but you were caught completely off guard by the small handwoven basket that sat right on the windowsill you first talked over with him that one night. It was draped in leather to cover its contents held inside. On the leather read the words "To Y/n, the original gorilla". You laughed to yourself and paused. You could feel his presence in the room, so you took it upon yourself to speak.

With your eyes half-lidded, you teased, "Senku, giving me gifts isn't going to win me over, but if you wanna date, you know you could just ask me."

"..." No words were needed. You already knew what his reaction was, you didn't even need to see his face. But you turned around anyways and there he was, cross-armed, leaning against the stair frame with his eyes closed in annoyance. You let out a puff of air from your nose and smiled.

"Alright, alright, my bad. But really, what's this? What's the occa-"

"Just open it already."

"Oh? Well if you insist then-" As you swiftly revealed the contents of the basket, your eyes widened in disbelief. "Is this..." Your fingers traversed over the little mounds of brown that were neatly stacked from the bottom up. A smirk plastered itself onto Senkus face as he witnessed your awestruck expression. You looked like you were about to cry from joy and sadness at the same time.

"Heh, it sure is, y/n." You quickly picked up a piece with your fingers and took half a bite of it. The flavors that enveloped your tongue didn't taste exactly like chocolate, but relatively close. What you could taste, though, was the effort and time put into its making and, most importantly, the love.

"...so? How is it?"

"...it's sweet...just like y-" You hesitated, turning away and looking out towards the sky. Your eyes drifted to rest on the warm autumnal colors radiating from the high. "They're good, Senku. Thank you."

"..." He crossed his arms and stared at you a bit. A small frown drooped from his lips. That's it? He felt like he was expecting something way more than verbal gratitude. "Yeah? Well if it stops you from crying over the past, then-" You suddenly pushed yourself onto him and engulfed him in a tight hug. Senku tensed and stood still,

"Really Senku, thank you. You really are a remarkable person. Call it cringe or whatever, but it's not going to cut out the silver lining I see in you." The arms that hung loosely by his sides began to wrap around your form, and his head rested again the top of yours.

"...it's nothing, really..." He replied. He doesn't rub your back or murmur any soothing words. He's definitely not a man of soothing words, it wasn't his thing. And anyway, it didn't look like you'd need to listen to them. You seemed content already just being there in his arms. "Hey, y/n..? Don't say anything about this to anybody. I don't wanna have anyone on my case wh-"

"About what, huh?" You teased, looking up at him from the hug. "That you held me close in your loving arms, whispering sweet nothings and-" Your shoulders were met with his grip, followed by a force that pushed you apart. He rolled his eyes, but there was still a stupid smile plastered on his face.

support me? :)

[dawndelion-winery]

Yellow Roses

Hanging out with them (platonic)

Ft. Scaramouche, Kaveh, Venti

For @i23kazu 1.5k event!! It's super slay go check it out!

Scaramouche:

Sometimes you forget he isn't actually your older brother

But hey! Who can fault you for that?

He's quick to anger and argumentative, often deadpanning at you and flicking your forehead

But that's really the worst of his wrath towards you

And even that's negligible with how obviously he worries for you

Scara is someone who's known betrayal after betrayal coming from the people closest to him

He's never had a sibling he could bond with, the closest being the Raiden Shogun, who really behaved like anything but family

So it's no surprise he's reluctant to look up to others, but that doesn't mean you're the same as he is

You're free to idolise him all you want! He promises he'll take care of you, and your trust will never be betrayed

"Watch it!" Scara yells as he catches the back of your shirt before you go tumbling off the edge of a cliff. "Geez, idiot. You'd get yourself killed if I weren't here!"

Don't let his anger fool you. As you sheepishly apologise you add that you could only be that careless because you knew he'd have your back. You think he's about to scold you again, but instead, he looks sheepish himself.

"Yeah. I do. So don't even think about being so reckless unless I'm around, got it?"

Kaveh:

It's not hanging out with Kaveh if he doesn't complain about his roommate

But it's also not a hangout with Kaveh without the rule "you gotta kiss your homies goodnight and shi"

Being in his innermost circle means having an obligation to let him drench all your favourite shirts in his tears as the most mundane of things send him hurtling into despair

You think you can prepare for it?

Wrong. They're so infrequent that you'll almost forget he does it and then you'll say you brush your teeth a certain way which reminds him of his mom teaching him to brush his teeth and he's sobbing into your chest

Bro can't catch a break

Likewise you're free to torment him with your wails as well

You kind of have to or he'll feel bad about it so...just bully him about his hair or something trivial so he feels less burdened to be overly considerate of you

"Kaveh? You seem pretty down."

"I'm not. I'm fine."

"About as fine as your thinning hairline, sure."

You hear an offended gasp as he whips around with an accusatory finger jabbing at you. "You take that back!" He demands, immediately flaring up in defence, getting all huffy like a peacock preening itself as he digs into you in retaliation.

He does feel a little better after lashing out, and tends to lay on your shoulder as he finally caves and tells you what's been bothering him.

Venti:

You feel like he knows everything about you

And he probably does

He knows all your tells for all your emotions you may try to hide, and while he does respect your space, there's times he does everything he can to get under your skin because he knows bottling it up isn't healthy

He enjoys writing songs with you!

Doesn't matter if you're neither linguistically nor musically inclined, he insists on getting your input

Very attuned to your emotions and great at matching your energy

You're down to clown? Count him in! He's a few dastardly schemes he wouldn't mind letting you in on *wink wink*

Feeling down? That's just fine too, lay on his shoulder and tell him about it! He's more than willing to listen

Or even if you'd just like to sit in silence with him

"Wanna hear a tune, my friend?" He says with a mischievous grin.

You nod, curious to see what he'd drafted up. Except it's a ballad about raiding a rich tycoon's wine cellar. In great detail. He's obviously trying to hint at something.

"Venti, Master Diluc is going to slaughter us."

"Only if we get caught!" He insists, with a knavish giggle. And inevitably, you find that same mischief creeping onto your lips to turn it into a grin as wide as his own. You really did hope you wouldn't get caught this time...hopefully....

Taglist: @myluvkeiji @aqui-soba @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @yuzuricebun @chaosinanutshell @heizours @haliyamori @callmemeelah @sadlonelybagel @plinkuro @thevictoriousmoon @mastering-procrastinating @missesclaus @cxlrose @miss-fantazmagoria @astrequa @kokomist @lemonswriting @eowinthetraveller @ajaxstar @boundedbyfate @the-lost-anime-dad @ash-astrophel @moonbyunniee @greyrain23 @heavenlyfloof

[eyeris-moni]

Worried

Hallo >:3c I did finish this small snippet of writing ovo)b

Characters: Cupid and Slender

One shot!

Summary:

Cupid visits his old friend to catch up and ask for a favor.

___________________________

Cupid pulled out the cigar from his mouth, with one last exhale. Then without flinching, the huge looming cryptid put it out in his own palm.

The illuminating embers from the cigar were choked out, leaving a trail of smoke, before Cupid slipped the remaining cigar into an inner pocket for later.

The handle clicked, causing the old wooden door to faintly creak on its hinges as it pushed open and revealed the entirely pitch black hallway beyond the door frame.

Without knocking on the door in front of him, he quietly tried the handle.

If he was welcomed, he'd be let in after all. Besides, there was no reason to wake anyone up by making unnecessary sounds, late into the night. An attentive, and easily alarmed bunch these residents were.

Cupid bowed to fit through the door, however once he was inside there was plenty of space to stand upright in. He closed the door behind him as quietly as he could, scanning the interior over.

In these last couple of years, Cupid had visited this mansion much more frequently, yet it was still infrequent enough that he wasn't used to the place.

Both in terms of the layout and look of the mansion, but of how it felt.

Or perhaps– there was no individual life beneath that old, dark wallpaper. Maybe it was simply an extension of The Slenderman himself.

How this place was less of an inanimate object and almost a living, shifting creature. So large that you didn’t notice its heartbeat and breathing unless you paid close attention to detail.

Cupid had never asked about it.

He did however know that if he was allowed inside, then Slender would most likely allow him into the basement too.

Where else was Cupid supposed to be? Roam around on his own in the mansion with all of Slender's kids? As if the ancient being would ever let him do so for long.

Cupid as an entity was tolerated, but clearly not entirely trusted with the other residents' safety.

He stopped by the one door which had a doorknob instead of a handle.

Walking through the dark hallway, the carpet beneath muffled his steps completely. The rug had likely seen far better days, being that it was stained with blood and mud. Cupid's gaze drifted from door to door, yellow eyes searching for the right one to go through.

Well, to call it a door knob, might be a bit generous.

The dark, knotted bundle of roots did look like a sphere, if you squinted.

Cupid was pretty sure this hadn't been where this door had been last, but he didn't remember for sure.

What he did remember though, was that this doorknob always led him to Slender; to the basement.

The wooden steps creaked beneath his large size. Not particularly loudly, but it was very audible in this silence.

Cupid did enjoy it, back out amongst humans, he was inconveniently large. That being said, it did take a moment to adjust to the new scale.

Cupid's clawed hand rested on the tall bannister as he walked.

The room, the steps, the bannister - it was all made for something much larger than a mere human. It was taller, sturdy - made for something as large as them to be comfortable in.

'What are you doing here.' Slender's voice rung in his head, as soon as his shoe touched the flooring. 

Roots hung from the ceiling in such numbers that they practically made up the ceiling as well. Cupid eyed them, knowing that if anyone unwelcomed somehow managed to find their way here, they would not survive those.

As unassuming and still as they looked, they could strike and wrap like starving snakes.

Behind the stairs, at the seating area, the familiar face– or well, the familiar lack of face, remained seated in the dark red armchair. The lamp beside Slender illuminated his elongated frame in a warm, orange glow.

"Must I always come with a reason~?", Cupid's deep voice called back, as he pinpointed Slender's location in the basement.

The tall pale creature had its head turned down to the pages of a book, despite having no visible eyes to read the words with

'Yes.' Slender said.

Judging from the quiet, somewhat relaxed monotone of Slender's voice, Cupid assumed he wasn't in a bad mood currently. Which was good - Cupid would much prefer catching him in a decent mood, especially when he was here to ask something of Slender.

"I bring new books", Cupid hummed. He reached a hand into the large fluff around his neck, to pull out one after the other, stacking them in his free hand.

"Here you are", Cupid said, placing them on the table, before he sat down on the couch opposite Slender.

To this, Slender slightly lowered the books, turning his blank face towards Cupid. He didn't say anything as Cupid kept piling though.

'Extra books', Slender noted.

"Is there?", Cupid asked, pretending he didn't know. He did know, of course.

'The same as last you asked', Slender said, sliding a bookmark into the book on his hand, before he put it away.

Cupid shifted on the couch and laid down in the furniture, which pleasantly could fit the entirety of his tall and broad size.

"How has it been?",  Cupid asked, making himself comfortable.

"Really, nothing has changed?", Cupid asked curiously, "what about your new resident?". He had noticed the familiar aura, somewhere above them.

Slender grabbed the top book from the pile. He looked it over, then put it down, before checking the next.

'Mhn. Yes.', Slender confirmed, 'Jeff moved Raz in'.

Cupid looked over at him and raised an eyebrow.

"I sense you might not agree with that decision?", Cupid hummed. Of course Slender had accept to some degree. Had he not wanted it, the colorful bunny cryptid would not be inside the mansion.

Cupid's yellow eyes drifted back to the expressionless face.

Slender placed the next book down on his second pile a bit harder.

His hand stayed on top of it for a moment.

The conversation paused for a moment.

"You feel complicated about it?", Cupid gently ventured to guess.

'...I might have taken too long', Slender said.

Cupid let out a low, drawn out hum.

He had asked Slender about this 'Raz' before. Such as, why Raz was living outside the mansion, even outside the clearing, which was likely the safest place in the forest.

Slender wasn't a doting guardian, but he never seemed picky about the company he adopted. 

Back then, Slender had cited Raz's power as being an issue - a worrying mixture with the household. Cupid could see sense in that.

And yet an entity as friendly as Raz hadn't been taken in.

As much as Slender never really said it, he wanted to make sure the entities were safe here. It was the reason he had made a home here in the first place, Cupid was pretty sure.

"You feel bad about not taking the kid in sooner", Cupid said, brushing his golden claws through his neck fluff. "But likewise, taking him in earlier might have caused issues with the other kids.

I think you did the right thing, waiting as much as seemed right", Cupid noted. 

Slender finally moved his hands onwards, to look through the rest of the pile of books.

Sometimes Slender seemingly wanted to say something, but then he wouldn't.

For some reason, Slender preferred halting the entire conversation, instead of perhaps, lying or sidestepping the issue. It was charming in its own right.

He'd just be silent, as if the words would eventually and naturally come out, but Cupid was used to them simply not doing so.

Cupid had over their relationship just gotten used to guessing what Slender was thinking. It worked fine most of the time.

'Jeff did not agree. He thinks I've been waiting too long', Slender remarked, as he checked the next book over.

'I suppose so', Slender answered, '... Did you buy this book from a library?', he asked as one of his thin fingers brushed over the library scan code.

"Times feel longer to mortals after all", Cupid said, "he's seeing it from a much slower point of view". The way humans thought about things, oftentimes clashed with the way entities like him and Slender did.

"Besides, it's not as if you can change the past - just make the most out of the present. Raz doesn't strike me as someone who is hard to please", Cupid said, ignoring Slender's question.

'Cupid.'

Cupid figured Slender probably didn't indeed. From what Cupid understood, Slender was not a huge proponent of stealing.

"Yes?",

'Did you... ', he removed his hand from the scan code. 'Perhaps I don't want to know', Slender corrected himself. He leaned back in his arm chair finally, hands folded in his lap.

'Thank you', Slender said.

'Oh you're welcome - most of the books really weren't difficult to locate", Cupid teased and waved the matter away with his hand.

Slender of course hadn’t been thanking him for the books, but neither of them remarked on it.

'How have you been?', Slender asked in turn.

"Very well - My latest fascination caused some rather big trouble up north", Cupid sighed. His deep voice immediately took on a pleased, dreamy quality to it. "It got a bit messy, but I don't really control the direction of the force", he chuckled humored.

Cupid looked at the ceiling, then closed his eyes halfway, "Oh, you should've seen it. Not that it would have been your taste, of course", Cupid grinned.

To Cupid, this was his purpose, his everything. The continued steps that made immortality worth living. But to Slender, it was likely nothing at all.

"Mhn?",

He hummed pleased, letting his eyes fully shut as he recalled the event that had gone down mere hours before.

Cupid pressed his palms together, feeling the light electricity beneath his skin that made his hands vibrate.

The rush of adrenaline and excitement.

'And?',

'Are you not going to elaborate?', Slender asked. Cupid turned his head towards him slightly, opening one eye, 

"oh, I didn't want to bother you. Do you want to hear about it?", he offered. 

'It would not bother me', Slender simply said. 

Cupid grinned appreciatively at the ancient creature's attempt to be social. It didn't used to be like this, but now it was. He appreciated the indulgence, even if Slender got nothing out of it.

About how love felt - how it flavored and entangled all other feelings one felt. Like instruments of an orchestra it harmonized and played into each other as the emotions kept swelling.

It didn't matter that Slender didn't talk much, nor that he had nothing much to add or comment on when Cupid talked. Once Cupid started talking about this particular topic, he could go on and on and on.

And oh, how he did.

How he loved it. 

How each time Cupid shot someone, he felt how his own blood fractionated itself in his target’s veins- felt how the individual's personality dictated the narrative- dictated the direction and flow of love.

He felt it pulse,

connect,

In a way only true emotion could do, between living people. 

How Cupid loved feeling the sensation of thousands of moths flutter, crawl and writhe beneath his skin– between layers of flesh until–

The glow from his yellow eyes reflected in his gold claws.

Cupid pushed the back of his hand against his mouth, silencing himself from his continued talking.

He let out a muffled chuckle between closed lips.

"Mhn, I best not indulge too much right now", Cupid breathed out, finally noticing just how much his voice seemed to vibrate. 

He looked over at Slender, who patiently and quietly sat there, watching him.

It was reassuring, knowing someone else could've helped out, if Cupid ever did slip. 

'Sounds very foreign', Slender said.

Cupid let out a laugh at the notion, "It is, I am sure", he agreed. 

Getting to talk about these sorts of things was not something Cupid did frequently. Not because he was like Slender and didn't talk much, but more so because he didn't have anyone else he talked to about matters like this. 

Well, it likely didn't matter much.

Despite their differences, Slender was the oldest friend Cupid had. There was an unspoken deep trust and comfort in that - even when Slender didn’t seem to care about Cupid.

It was nice, calming. Not that Cupid had been scared or uncomfortable per say, something had just--...

'I would not mind', Slender answered. 

"Would you mind if I stayed a couple of hours?", Cupid finally revealed the reason he was here.

This was by no means an odd request - usually he stayed here for a couple of hours anyway. However, Cupid didn’t want to simply assume as much.

Cupid smiled and nodded, "appreciated. I promise you I won't be extending my visit further - I need to cocoon soon anyway~", he said, before sitting up briefly to slip his shoes off.

'What are you doing here?', Slender asked, once more asking the initial question he had greeted Cupid with.

He grabbed another pillow, placing it under his broad back to lay better.  Cupid was going to fully enjoy being able to simply lay on a couch that could fit him.

Cupid closed his eyes, "I just needed a place to retreat to", he finally answered.

'Why', Slender asked. 

"Because of the mess up north that I told you about", Cupid snickered gently.

There was a brief silence. It wasn't tense, simply the kind of silence that frequently happened when calmly talking to Slender.

Eventually Slender picked up his book again.

'You do not usually retreat like that after shooting someone.

From what you described about this incident, I see no reason why that would have changed', Slender remarked. 

The comment caught Cupid a bit off guard, mostly because he was surprised that Slender seemed to have listened enough to take note of such.

Cupid's gaze simply stared at Slender for a moment, thinking about what to answer.

He hummed thoughtfully.

"After incidents like these, I tend to get a bit...", Cupid trailed off, thinking about how to put it. Slender likely already knew what he meant though. "Excited, euphoric", he settled on. Slender gave off a faint nod, or at least Cupid thought he might have. "However, as the full moon is approaching, I am feeling a bit less focused and in control than usual from this high", he said. "It's not a big deal - in fact it's rather pleasant, feeling it permeate", Cupid grinned. 

He lifted a clawed hand, scratching his nose bridge. 

"Normally I would simply find a good spot and cocoon before time", he said, then paused thoughtfully. "But I'm getting the feeling I shouldn't. My gut says something is off. So I thought I'd stop by here and calm down a bit - clear my head, so to speak".

His words made Slender look up from his book again,

'What seems to be 'off'?', Slender inquired.

Cupid's brows knitted together, as if thinking about it a bit more thoroughly. He hummed slowly. "Mhn-", he snapped his fingers, "like I'm being watched - but not in a good way", Cupid said.

'what would 'being watched in a good way' even– don't answer', Slender once more corrected himself.

Cupid chuckled, "I don’t suppose I am feeling afraid but...", he tapped his claws against his chin, "I don't feel as safe as normally. That's all", he shrugged.

'Are you being hunted?', Slender asked bluntly.

"I haven't sensed anyone, so I doubt that. However my judgment right now is not at its best~", Cupid did agree, "I don't think it's an issue as long as I get time to clear my mind a bit".

'And how do you suppose you will do that, when a full moon is approaching.', Slender asked.

Cupid eyed Slender and offered him a slightly warmer smile, "There's still time. I have time to find somewhere to rest. Even if one of those cryptid killers found me, it's not like I am defenseless while in my cocoon", he shrugged.

There was another moment of silence.

'You are not cautious enough', Slender said.

"What's that, are you worried about me~?", Cupid chuckled and winked.

Cupid was about to continue talking before he paused, seeming to take in the answer. Huh.

'Yes.', Slender said.

He smiled, flattered and appreciative, "Ah", he breathed out, "I'm sure I'll be fine, Slender".

'Where do you plan on hibernating?', Slender continued nonetheless.

Cupid inhaled slowly, knowing that the other cryptid likely wouldn't be satisfied with his answer, "I haven't really thought about it - somewhere isolated".

'Somewhere unplanned, unprotected and isolated from aid.', Slender rephrased.

"Say, what's that book you're reading?", Cupid said, nudging his head in the direction of the book that Slender hadn't turned a single page off, ever since he had picked it up again. Cupid’s very blunt way of changing the subject was not accepted though.

'Cupid.', Slender said firmly.

"What is it?", Cupid’s eyebrow raised in both a teasing, yet challenging manner, "what exactly do you want me to do about it, hm~?".

Slender paused - Cupid waited patiently.

Slender hadn't always been this worried about these sorts of hunters. While Cupid liked the idea that Slender just suddenly cared for him enough to be so concerned, he did get the impression that that wasn't entirely the case. Slender knew something he didn’t.

And Cupid was certainly curious about it.

'You could stay here for this full moon', Slender offered.

Cupid laughed humored and suddenly at the unpredicted offer.

It seemed like an absurd offer.

Interesting.

Huh.

Interesting.

Slender had never offered something like that and Cupid had never stayed over like that. 

What was it Slender worried so much about, that suddenly made it acceptable for Cupid to be near his children?

It tickled his mind, intrigued him greatly. Cupid wanted to understand him.

"I could, If you think that's a good idea", Cupid said. He wasn't going to say no to an offer of being around Slender.

Even if he had felt entirely safe outside these forests, he was far too curious. In a way, he suspected that Slender knew this too and used it to his advantage.

Slender turned his face to his book, seemingly signaling that he was going back to reading.

Cupid stared at him for a long while, curious eyes drawn to the lack of expression.

This was nice. He liked this changing personality of Slender's. Obviously in part for selfish reasons - it clearly seemed to benefit Cupid.

It suited Slender to care more, to care for others. 

But a life without care, a life without love was hollow. It was nothing.

So despite Cupid not understanding, he could appreciate that Slender signaled that this was of importance to him.

Cupid stared at the ceiling, closing his eyes.

It really made Slender a lot more lovable in turn as well.

[whentherewerebicycles]

How is motherhood (so far)? It seems like such a crazy shift from one life to another!

it is SO good so far!!! here are some scattered feelings & thoughts:

i have been warned that a big hormone crash is coming and i am sure that will be tough to weather! but right now i am feeling so good - still just riding that endorphin high. i feel physically good too, like tired and a little sore, but really way better than i expected to feel three days after giving birth.

my transition into parenthood has been majorly eased by the fact that my mom is here and is doing virtually all of the newborn care tasks for me right now - nighttime feedings (i take over around 5am but my hands are so bad in the night), diaper changes, tracking how much he's eating, making food, etc. she is even helping me breastfeed because it involves a level of manual dexterity i am not currently capable of most of the time. i am so so so so so so grateful to have her here. part of me feels kind of guilty, like i'm probably supposed to be feeling way more stressed out and overwhelmed trying to manage the cognitive and physical demands of new parenthood, but i am trying to quiet that voice in my brain by reminding myself that there are going to be PLENTY of times in the future where i'll get to feel overwhelmed and exhausted and in over my head as a single parent. she is so happy and so excited to do this for me, and i am trying to just let myself rest and enjoy it.

it is so special to do this with my mom. i was saying to her yesterday, like, i can totally see how taking care of a new baby with a partner would be a richly meaningful experience, and i can see that there are things i am missing out on on that front. but also if i were doing this with a partner i wouldn't get to be doing this with my mom, and i would be missing out on an experience that i am finding just as richly meaningful and rewarding. i feel so close to her and i love her so much and i know that for the rest of my life i am going to remember how special it was to get to watch her love owen so much and take such good care of him (and me) in his first days of life. i feel so lucky. i thought i would feel SO overwhelmed but instead i just feel really loved and taken care of, and i feel really close to my mom, and i feel like we are the happiest little family unit right now. i love it so much. also she calls him "my little guy" and “my best friend” and i almost cry every time. hormones but also love, you know.

owen is perfect. i feel like i felt intensely close to him right after the birth, and then i had kind of a hard first day after in the hospital where there were just TOO MANY PEOPLE coming in at all hours and doing exams on me or on him, and there was no time to rest and bond with him, and i started feeling very overwhelmed and kinda like do i even KNOW this baby? this baby is a STRANGER to me and if i hadn't had a baby i would be at HOME right now in my own SPACE without anyone coming in every 15 min day and night to bother me. that first long hospital day was really rough and then i was relieved to finally get home that night but also super cranky and tired, and i couldn't figure out how to get my pump to work, and he got very fussy in the night and i was like AAAAAAA. but then we spent all of yesterday doing so much skin-to-skin cuddling and napping in bed which is just the nicest thing imaginable, and now i am like this is my BABY he is PERFECT look at him!!!! he is so snuggly and good.

i am glad that my brother had a newborn a couple months before i did because i think it helped prepare me for how gently boring the newborn stage can be lol. not in a bad way! it's so sweet and i think will involve lots of wonderful sleepy snuggling!! but they are awake so infrequently and do not have personalities yet, and you are kind of like hm. should more be happening, or...? but no. nothing more should be happening lol they will just be sweet sleepy lumps for a good long time. my nephew is nine? ten? weeks old now and is definitely starting to become way more alert/engaged, so i know a personality is coming haha and i will just enjoy my little sweet lump right now because he won't be like this ever again!! also it's nice to be able to just let him sleep next to me while i do other stuff. i think it will ease the transition a bit... like yes now we are on this endless cycle of pumping, attempting to breastfeed, bottlefeeding him, changing him, watching him sleep, pumping again, etc but i can read or watch stuff in between because he requires so little attention while sleeping (except for LOTS OF KISSES he requires LOTS OF LITTLE KISSES because he is so SWEET!!!!). also idk i am sure i will get bored of being off work but right now it has been so restful to delete outlook & teams from my phone and just be like who cares about weird office politics i have way more important things to do like kiss a sleeping baby on the forehead a hundred times and tell him he is the best and handsomest boy in the whole world. life is very good lol.

[t1oui]

the first room draco malfoy sleeps in after inheriting malfoy manor is the one he shares with astoria.

it's further from scorpius's room than he likes, but it's the biggest and has the nicest windows, and they make do. it's the room with the big walk-in closet and the window seat where astoria spends hours reading, both to herself and out loud for her family.

it's the room where draco finds his wife and son playing board games - both magical and muggle - together at the end of the day. he doesn't know much about the muggle things, and neither does astoria, but it's always fun to figure them out.

this room is the one with the big king-sized bed that holds all three malfoys on nights when scorpius has bad dreams, or even those where he simply wanted more time with his parents.

it's the room that draco takes for granted.

the second room, the one he moves to after astoria's death, is across the hall from his son. it's small and cramped, previously more of a closet than a bedroom. it's a perfect place for a broken heart.

the bed is smaller, a queen, but it still fits scorpius on the nights when they need to have a cry together. the wardrobe in the corner is tiny, but draco's clothes never took up much space anyway. the floor doesn't have enough space for draco and scorpius to stretch out on the infrequent nights scorpius pokes his head in with a chess board, so instead of games, all the room sees is tears. that's okay, draco thinks. he deserves it.

beginning in their eighth year, blaise and pansy had some sort of friends with benefits arrangement. draco never truly understood it, nor did he try to, but the whole thing came crashing down when scorpius was ten and pansy arrived at the manor in a state after finding out she was pregnant.

leilani grows up alongside scorpius, a younger sister of sorts who adores her "older brother" more than anything. pansy and blaise are both busy with work at the ministry, but pansy - a journalist - has far less structure than office worker blaise, which leaves him as the one to bring leliani over the most often.

draco can't pinpoint the moment their friendship turns into something more. he can only remember not feeling anything other than joy the first time they kissed, underneath a mistletoe during scorpius's seventh year. he can also remember pansy storming into the room right after and yelling "i knew it" before tackling them into a hug.

the third and final bedroom draco sleeps in is the one with blaise in it. it's just next door to his first room, where his first bed is collecting dust as it has been since astoria's final night in it. this room is slightly smaller, and its closet took a bit of charming to fit all of their clothes, but it feels perfect. not better than his room with astoria, not worse, just different. draco wouldn't want it any other way.

leilani gets the room across the hall, which is huge - almost bigger than scorpius's - and very fancy and perfect for spoiling her in. scorpius is twenty by the time there's a new ring on draco's left hand, and he drags albus potter all around his childhood home by one hand while a ten-year-old leilani takes hold of the other.

"i bet she's a gryffindor," draco whisper-shouts as he stands between blaise and pansy to watch. pansy gags.

"she was raised by three slytherins," pansy says. "there's no way, right?"

"scorp was a ravenclaw," blaise points out.

a year later, two weeks after scorpius's wedding and the night of leilani's first day at hogwarts, they get their answer.

"they have always been close," pansy says with a frown.

"i told you so," blaise replies, grinning as he pulls draco in with one arm and pansy in with the other.

the bed in draco and blaise's room is still a queen, the same size as the one in draco's second bedroom, but it fits three adults just fine.

[mattalit]

Link x Male Reader

A/N: repost from wattpad

Length: 1.7k

Originally Published: Feb 23, 2023

CW: none

In his line of work, customers were infrequent, and new customers were almost unheard of. Regardless of the "untapped potential", as (M/N) often called it, of the Poe industry, it was an unsurprisingly under-utilized--or perhaps useless?--and unheard of industry, and his parents, when he visited them, would often remind him of that. Despite his parents' disfavor towards his particular career choice, (M/N) found it liberating: he had little to no competition, which meant more money for him; he had lots of free time, which he used to peruse different hobbies; and he was alone, which he liked. Well, he was alone outside of cases such as now, where a customer--a new customer, in this case--had wandered into his modest little shop in Castle Town.

The surprise of a new customer was largely (M/N)'s own fault. His shop was never open at the same time twice in a week, he never advertised (outside of an obligatory pamphlet in the Kakariko Village Graveyard, of course), and the only sign that indicated there was a shop here (and more than that, what the shop was) was posted in fine print on the door. All of this, combined with the obscure nature of the Poe industry, led to few, if any, customers in any given day. And when there were customers, they were the same regulars he had come to know since the founding of his little Poe boutique--all were sketchy, most were scummy, and one was crazy. To explain his regulars would be a digression, though, and something (M/N) could not ponder upon due to the current circumstances--that is, having a customer. Now was not the time for thinking; now was the time for quality Customer Service. So, kicking his feet back and forth from his perch on the counter, (M/N) put on his best Customer Service smile.

"Welcome! Are you here to sell or to buy?"

"Uh, I'm here to sell."

(M/N) did a once over his new customer. Blond. Obviously active and reasonably buff. Cool sword. An adventurer... I should send him on a quest. I'm sure he's not busy with other things.

"Of course. What do you bring me today?" the Poe merchant asked.

The blond held out a bottle.

"Oh! Let me see that." (M/N) grabbed the Poe and held it up to the light. Hmm. Orange aura. He tapped the bottle. Not too small, yet not a lot of space for it in this bottle. He ran through his mental list of local Poes. Rare! A Big Poe. Just what I needed. "Young man, you've brought me quite the specimen."

"What's it worth?"

"To your average person? Nothing. To me? 50 rupees, and if you want, 100 points on your tab."

"Tab?"

"Yessir, 'tab.' For Big Poes, which this is a Big Poe if I've ever seen one, I'll give you points on your tab. If you get 1000 points, I'll give you a special gift!" Without giving his new customer time to object, (M/N) continued, "Now, what's your name? I'll get the paperwork."

"It's Link."

On the top of the blank paper (official blank paper, mind you), (M/N) wrote, Link (blond twink) 100 points as of XX/XX/XX.

And now, it was time for (M/N) to sucker this new customer into doing his dirty work.

"...and you're all set, Link. A pleasure to meet you, by the way. I'm (M/N). Now, you seem like the adventuring type..."

Link sighed. As a worn out hero, he was used to this opening phrase, and it always led to some request. He was not particularly excited to undergo more (arguably) meaningless tasks, but he had little else to do now that he saved the world from evil or whatever. Perhaps something less dramatic would help him relax.

"What do you need me to do?"

Thank the Heavens! He took the bait.

"I'm looking to employ someone to do some hunting for me."

"Go on."

"A client of mine has requested 10 Big Poes from me. Unfortunately, they are particularly hard to find, and even harder to capture. Seeing as you've brought me a Big Poe, though, you are clearly more than capable. If you can get me 9 more, you'll have 1000 points and win a gift! Of course, I'll pay you accordingly for each Poe; I might even throw something extra in. I'll consider it an internship. What do you say?"

Now, Link didn't consider himself to be a ghost hunter, but in times like these, when his only choice was to eternal boredom or an "internship" with a some odd man, he was willing to do anything,

"I'll do it."

"Consider yourself employed, then! Welcome to the team, intern."

(M/N) wasn't expecting to see Link back so soon. Of course, it had been a week since Link had brought in his first Big Poe, but from what he had seen, a week to find a Big Poe was a new form of efficiency. He almost doubted the man even brought a Big Poe back.

"Back so soon?" The Poe merchant dropped his hood down, revealing his messy (H/L) (H/C) hair, and gazed questioningly at the adventurer.

"I think I've found a Big Poe."

"Oh, glorious! Hand it over." Link held out a bottle and (M/N) grasped it.

The merchant tentatively tapped the bottle. Hmm. He stared at it. Orange aura. He shook it. Definitely large.

"I dare say, Ghost Hunter, you've found us a Big Poe. You're exceeding my expectations," (M/N) said, pouring the Poe into a crate.

"I've, uh, had some experience with ghosts."

"In the Kakariko Graveyard?" Link nodded. "That's the bulk of my experience, too. We don't have Poes or ghosts where I'm from. Too cold, I suppose," (M/N) said, leaning back against the wall. "Anyways, I'm giving you a bonus for your hard work. 75 rupees. Oh! And 100 points to your tab. Keep it up--there's more where that came from."

Link gladly accepted the rupees it, placing them into his wallet. "So, where is it 'too cold' for Poes? I've seen Poes all over Hyrule."

(M/N) looked at Link and tilted his head. "You can't tell? I'm not from Hyrule. I'm from somewhere much more North. It's a small town. It doesn't rain there; it only snows."

"And you came all this way to sell... Poes?"

"To sell and to buy Poes, yes," (M/N) responded indignanty. "It's a niche interest of mine." He glanced up and down at Link. "And what about you? You're awfully pretty compared to the people around here. Where are you from? What do you do?"

Link considered telling the truth about his majestic adventures, his conquest to save this very apocalyptic town they were currently in, but he decided against it. Despite the idiosyncrasies of his newfound "employer," he wanted to put his temple-diving, life-risking adventuring days behind him... at least for a while.

"I'm from a small village in the south-east, near the forest. I'm an adventurer."

"An 'adventurer', mysterious! Y'know, if I was pretty like you, I'd be doing a different sort of business." (M/N) leaned forward, arms crossed, and offered a flirtatious wink. Link flushed a dark red. Before he could respond, (M/N) was already dismissing him with a wave of his hand. "Anyways, a pleasure as always. I expect to see you again soon with more Big Poes! Scurry long now."

And a week later, (M/N) did see Link, who brought a Big Poe. And a week after that, another Big Poe. And a two weeks after that, two Big Poes. And now, Link was prepared to drop off his seventh.

Unlike his usual visits to the shop, though, the torches were unlit and no light escaped from the windows. Regardless of what is considered "acceptable" when no one appears to be home, Link, with a key gifted to him by (M/N), unlocked the door and tentatively opened it.

"(M/N)?" he called into the darkness. He did not receive a response.

Link closed the door behind him, and, in the soft glow of the moonlight, crept across the room. Again, he called out.

"Ugh," a tired voice called out, "Link?" Lantern light floods through an open door into the store, and the hunched frame of (M/N) followed it. He wore a pair of shorts and nothing else. He rubbed one eye and lazily looked at Link with the other. "It's awfully late to be doing business."

Link blushed lightly in embarrassment. "Oh, uh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you'd be asleep."

(M/N) gave him an odd look. "Link, it must be, what? Three in the morning?" He sighed. "What are you doing here?"

Link didn't respond right away. While he had, in fact, showed up to do business, he didn't want to admit that seeing the merchant's sleepiness.

(M/N) sighed again. "Oh, whatever, it doesn't matter. Come on, Link, let's have a sleep over."

Link hesitantly followed (M/N) into the adjoining room. (M/N)'s room was small, containing a mat and blankets serving as a makeshift bed. A milk crate next to the bed served as a table. Haphazard stacks of books on ghosts and supernatural creatures filled up a corner.

"Sorry it's so small," (M/N) said, scratching his naked chest. "I'm not exactly, uh, used to company." He eased himself onto the mat, laying down with his arms behind his head. He gave Link a once over. "I hope you don't plan on bringing a sword to bed."

"Oh! Right." Link discarded his sword and shield and outer layers of clothes in a corner. To avoid scandal and remain modest, he left his pants and undershirt on. Then, when (M/N) patted the space next to him, sat down. Link's body was noticeably tense, and he seemed unsure of what to do.

"For a ghost-killing adventurer, you're awfully new to sleep overs," (M/N) joked. "Don't worry, pretty boy, I don't bite." He extinguished the flame in his lantern, then furrowed his brows in thought. "Well, unless you're into that."

Link didn't respond, but taking a deep breath to relax, he laid next to the (H/C) man. The dark itself served as a shield against the outside world, and for a moment, Link felt safe.  It was a simple moment of peace, free from adventuring, free from responsibility, and free from near-death experiences. I could get used to this, he thought.

He felt an arm slowly make its way around his waist. "Is this okay?" came (M/N)'s gentle whisper.

"Yeah," Link replied breathlessly, "it's okay."

"Good." (M/N) softly tugged him closer and let out a content sigh that tickled Link's neck. "Good night, Link."

"Good night, (M/N)."

[purgatory-is-life]

Mechtober prompt 16/day 16-dream/nightmare

more brian hurt/comfort because im a fiend and he's blorbo

@mechtober-2024

and on ao3 > Rainbow Chaos Amidst The Empty Void - Reality666Rift999 - The Mechanisms (Band) [Archive of Our Own]

tw; descriptions of corpses, mentioned corpses, nightmares, dreaming about dying, panic, lmk if you want me to tag anything else!!

---

Brian wasn’t sure he’d ever seen so many colors. He wasn’t sure his eyes should be able to register all the colors around him. Carmilla didn’t make his eyes with excessively complicated color cones.

The Colors were overwhelming.

Where was he?

Wherever he was, it was singing and loud. He wandered–wandered? No, that seemed wrong, he was dragged along gently–through The Colors. Around him, people were screaming, and it was blending into the songs of the place.

As he wandered through the place, he was met with the strongest sense of deja vu from the place and the people and the growing number of corpses.

The Bifrost Train, suddenly appeared in his mind. The Ratatosk Express. He was on the Ratatosk. Which meant it was almost definitely getting close to Midgard. He should find a way to warn Marius and Raph and Ivy.

As he came across the engine room, he saw two people who could only be Loki and Sigyn. There was a rotted, charred and corroded corpse that was steadily becoming more and more absorbed by the floors of the singing, rainbow train by the minute. Brian assumed it was what was left of Kvasir.

Loki looked quite similar to Kvasir, charred and skeletal, barely awake and barely breathing as she held on tightly to her wife. Sigyn didn’t look much better, only barely more alive than her wife. She seemed to be the one holding more tightly onto the other.

“I’m sorry, Sigyn,” Loki choked out. “I don’t know how much longer this will last.”

“Never apologize, my love,” Sigyn told her, “we did everything we could. We held on as long as we could.”

“I’ll continue to hold on, this time, my dearest,” Loki said, wheezing with every breath, “no matter what.”

“And I’m never leaving you again. I promise.”

The two embraced, and the yelling train’s song came to a cacophonous uproar, crescendo overwhelming Brian, leaving him dizzy and confused as The Colors swirled angrily around him.

The Song of the rainbow train squeezed around him, screeching at his intrusion, and Brian was pulled somewhere else.

And somewhere else happened to be the Void.

Brian choked and thrashed, screaming soundlessly into empty space.

Never again. He couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t be left in the endless emptiness of the Void again. He could feel the frost creeping in, the Void screamed and his oil-blood froze in his metal veins. He could feel the Void reach in, grab him and hold him tight as it tried to close around him and choke him till Death found him. The Void wanted to take him again.

Brian didn’t want to be choked by the Void again.

Brian couldn’t do this again.

But he would, everything must be found by Death eventually, even them.

Everything Dies, even the Mechanisms.

Brian woke up (restarted? He was always unsure how to refer to his body’s functions) with a whirring gasp and shaking hands.

He was laying in his bed on the Aurora, in his warm room under his warm weighted blanket. He was laying down, flat, on his bed, with no fear or worry of floating away into the Void.

The lighting in his room was dim and Aurora was sleeping, her creaks quiet and infrequent. It must still be the middle of the night cycle. Brian ran a shaky hand through his copper wire hair, holding onto it as he tried to get everything in his head back in order.

He could still hear the Song from the Bifrost, and maybe even a melody for a story that hasn’t been written yet, hadn’t been found by the Mechanisms, but the unfinished Song of the Bifrost was the loudest.

Brian’s hands were still shaking as he sat up, he needed to move. To get his dream out of his head. So that’s what he did, he stood up and left his room to wander around the sleeping starship.

He tried to be quiet, tried to keep his footfalls quiet so he didn’t wake anyone. And technically he succeeded–but when he passed through one of the common areas, he found a half asleep Gunpowder Tim and a clowder of octokittens laying on a couch. Brian paused in the doorway, as Tim jumped and turned his head, eyes zooming in and out on him as he focused.

“Ah, Drumbot,” Gunpowder yawned as he relaxed, resuming his petting of the octokittens. “What’re you up for at this late hour?”

It was wrong to lie, so Brian told Gunpowder the truth. “I had a nightmare. I didn’t want to go back to sleep just yet.”

Gunpowder nodded. He waved him over, and the drumbot walked over to the pile of tentacles and a gangly-gunsman. “I get that. Couldn’t get to sleep either, got too para–” Tim yawned, but continued as if nothing happened, “–paranoid. Wanna cuddle? The octokittens usually like you.”

Brian considered his options, before nodding and climbing into the pile of gangly gunsman and weird slimy fur, and now a brass man. He settled in next to Tim, relaxing in the presence of one of his crewmates.

They wouldn’t go to sleep just yet, both their minds still racing and loud and chaotic, but they could at least relax with each other there and the assurance that, with their crew, they’d be safe. They could take anything on.

So Brian sat on the couch in one of the common rooms of the Aurora with Gunpowder Tim, and a clowder of octokittens.

This was much better than the Void of space. He decided. He wouldn’t trade something like this for eternity.

[moccahobi]

Cafe Amore [Jimin x Taehyung]

Summary: Taehyung and Jimin live two opposite lives only connected by their work at a coffee shop. Yet Jimin desperately wants more. Can they bond over coffee despite Taehyung disliking it?

Personal Prompt: How does Cafe Amore make such good coffee? Simple! They make regular sacrifices to coffee gods.

Paring: Jimin (BTS) x Taehyung (BTS)

Genre: Coffee Shop AU, Fluff

Warnings: Light mention of human sacrifices

Word Count: 2.5k words

A/N: This is part of @thebtswritersclub project "heating up"! I also got the prompt "coffee shop au" which I am a sucker for. And I had an old prompt I wrote that I could use! Also. Normally I use photos from BTS's facebook for my banners. Today, I used ones from the BTS World Wiki. I remembered Jimin having been a mochi maker and just knew the vibes would fit.

In a world of darkness and frustration, what is the one thing that can brighten it all?

For Jimin and his world of darkness ( the morning rush at Cafe Amore), the answer is the boxy and warm smile of Kim Taehyung (his coworker and the only person working the front with him). The morning rush had started sooner than he was scheduled though, and Jimin was flooded with coffees, drowning in an aroma he previously loved. It was a bad idea for the coffee aficionado to work here, cursed to explain over and over again what a piccolo and a (real) macchiato are.

An hour into the rush and Taehyung finally enters. Bless his heart but he knew nothing about coffee before working at the cafe. He didn't even drink it. Instead his mind was on the specialty drinks and fun flavors he could make. It was endearing and scary how much sugar Taehyung could consume when practicing his drinks. Cafe Amore has amazing beans that shouldn't be ignored, yet here Taehyung was, almost always ignoring it. It did mean that Taehyung took Mr. "Cat" when he came in asking for a "macchiato" which Jimin was forever grateful for. 

He was Jimin's best (work) friend, and Jimin always found himself thinking about how he might become real friends. The ocean between work friends and real friends felt insurmountable though. Nothing in sight and mapless.

Instead Jimin tried to find comfort in being work friends, to savor their laughter and treasure the smiles. Taehyung didn't seem like someone who'd be friends with Jimin anyways. A jazzy free spirit didn't seem to mesh well with an uptight perfectionist. Jimin spent all his freetime locked away in a dance studio while Taehyung explored the city and found niche places all around. They seemed to live in separate worlds bridged only by their work.

Jimin tapped Taehyung's calf as he rushed to get changed in the back. The rush was no where near done but now at least the rush would feel better. Taehyung was a magical salve full of small comments and smiles that fueled Jimin to keep going. 

"I went to a jazz bar this weekend. It was so fun! When we have a chance, I'll show you pictures." Taehyung said as he signed into the next register, his warm hand patting Jimin's shoulder.

Jimin nodded, swallowing the silly feelings of jealousy over being able to see these events but not be let in. He chose being a busybody, but sometimes he wished for more. Taehyung made him want more. 

"I had to work all weekend," Jimin forced a laugh, "Jazz sounds so much nicer."

With that, the two slid into a silent dance, rushing around to feed and fuel the 100+ coffee (and non-coffee) lovers who filled the rush. Not infrequently, they'd brush against each other, the barista bar space a glorified gap between the counters. Jimin felt himself relaxing when they bumped into each other, Taehyung's warmth a kind break from the fire of customers and the boil of the barista machine.

Two hours later, Taehyung was able to finally make himself a smoothie and the two could take a breather.

"One of the songs made me think of you." He started, the blender screaming over him, "I mean, I don't know how to dance well, but it seemed like one that would have great potential for dancing."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Do you dance to jazz much?"

Jimin shrugged, "Not really. I'd be down to try though."

Try for you. His traitorous mind supplied, And then maybe you can come watch me perform.

"What do you dance to then?" Taehyung asked as he filled his cup and grabbed a straw.

"Contemporary and ballet. But I've not had much time lately," Jimin sighed and looked down, "My dance studio cut the classes I'm teaching so I've been picking up more shifts here."

Taehyung nodded, "Lot's more?"

"I mean... My pay here is much worse than my pay at the studio so yeah. I get to see the place at much quieter hours now though."

"That sounds creepy! I didn't think this place ever wasn't busy."

Jimin laughed, "There's a time between 3am and 5am that is near dead!"

Taehyung shook his head, "Sounds like a brutal time to be working. They should just close the shop then."

Jimin shrugged and took a sip of his latte.

"Were you working Saturday night?"

He nodded.

"That's when I went to this jazz bar. Want to see some of it now?"

Before long another rush came.Jimin was swept up in the hectic rush of the day,  one song in the backtrack of his mind. It hung over him and he found himself stealing away to his mind to choreograph it. It totally wasn't because of the cute video of Taehyung dancing to it surrounded by old couples. The song was just good.

It would be three more days before Taehyung and Jimin were scheduled together again. Their days off just slightly overlapped and left an awkward day when one was working and the other wasn’t. *It also meant that there was a day both had off.* Jimin was asked to take his break early that day, finally getting a moment off his feet to sit and breathe. Given… early meant 4 hours in rather than 5. One of the few things he hated about the cafe was never being able to breathe while working. There was almost always work to do and if there wasn’t, a manager could find more. Sure he and Taehyung spent their fair share of time talking, but if there wasn’t the threat of more work to do soon they were working on something as they talked.

Jimin took a deep breath and looked out of the shop, imagining what he'd be doing now if bills weren't such a threat. Maybe he'd be dancing. Maybe he'd be spending more time with his cat. Maybe he'd be with friends. It was times like this that made Jimin frustrated that he had to work to live. The world was cruel and unfair and his jobs weren’t lucrative. Even with a roommate, money could get tight. The stress of living sometimes weighed on Jimin more than it seemed it weighed on others. If only he didn’t need to work. If only he could leave and not work ever again.

Jimin sighed, not liking the upset he felt at the thought of working, wanting to focus on the fun he had with Taehyung at work. He spent so many hours of his life here, stuck in the cafe with a smile. Would he be happier if he didn't work here? if he was doing other things?

"Try my new drink!" Taehyung bounded over, a neon blue beverage in his hands like a neon blue light breaking Jimin’s dark thoughts.

Jimin laughed and felt some tension leave him. He refused to think about how many spoonfuls of sugar were in the drink but at least it looked unique. 

"It's a blueberry pie milkshake. One of my neighbors back home gave me a ton of blueberries that I'd been keeping in the freezer for a good time. Inspiration struck me so here it is!"

Jimin nodded, taking a slow sip the sugary sweetness coating his tongue and only barely cut through by a small hint of acid, "Mhhh. I imagine the customers who like dessert drinks will love this."

"What about you?" Taehyung asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"Yeah. I think I would prefer it to be a bit tarter, but it's good." Jimin said, trying to think of how much more of him he could stomach of the sugary drink. His latte will help cut through the sugar so maybe a few more sips.

Taehyung nodded before going back behind the counter to continue working. Tiny cups lined upon the counter made Jimin worried. Was he going to offer free samples to customers? Jimin cut his break a bit shorter to toss the half-drunk milkshake out when Taehyung was in the back after watching Taehyung offer a tiny bit to anyone who passed the counter.

The rest of their day flowed uneventfully aside from one customer who spat out Taehyung’s milkshake and called it the “worst thing ever imagined”. Taehyung thankfully just laughed it off but it did mean more cleaning and Jimin took to doing it when Mr. Cat came in and his eyes zeroed in on the final batch of samples Taehyung had. That’d make the whole “worst thing ever imagined” ordeal disappear. 

Jimin was first to sign off and he found himself struck by the urge to stay later if only to get off at the same time as Taehyung. Theoretically he could stay and talk with Taehyung, but he had hours of housework to do and he didn’t want to be at this cafe longer than needed. Curse modern media for making it seem like grabbing a drink after work was a common thing.

With staggered shifts at the cafe, it meant that often only one person left at a time. Yet often it felt like the only thing he could try to branch the ocean of distance between work and life. How else would one become friends with coworkers? Sure Jimin had Taehyung’s number from the work chat… but was that really something he could use? No. Jimin sighed when he got into his car, taking a few moments to breathe before driving away.

Taehyung was at work before Jimin the next day, his eyes wide as he sipped a black drink.

"What ya' got there?" Jimin asked as he clocked in.

"Americano."

"Sugary?"

"No. It's black."

"Thought you didn't like black coffee," Jimin said with a laugh as he walked back to grab his apron.

"I didn't think I did. But Mr. Cat had some after getting a whiff of someone’s latte. Don’t ask me how or why he smelled someone’s latte. Made me decide to try one."

Jimin nodded but didn't know what to say. All their coffee smelled good to him and as he brewed himself a cappuccino, it didn’t smell different. Nor did it taste different when he took a sip. Well the milk did, but that was because they got a different brand. He watched as Taehyung reached for a second cup of americano and eventually a third.

"You might want to slow down on your coffee." Jimin finally said, reaching out to take the cup from Taehyung.

"Why? I'm enjoying the coffee."

Jimin nodded and laughed, "Yeah. But this has a lot of caffeine, especially if you've not had much caffeine before. Maybe switch to a decaf one? Or water? Maybe some food."

Taehyung sighed, "Wow. Ok, dad. This has water in it," But he did grab something to eat from his bag and started sipping on his water.

"The coffee here is really good though. You might really like it in a latte or cappuccino. The milk mellows out the bitterness."

Taehyung nodded, his cheeks filling with his breakfast bar, "How do they make it so good? This batch smelled better than others so maybe they changed a supplier?"

Jimin shrugged, "Not that I know of."

The conversation died down as a rush came, the usual caffeine junkies and work-in-cafe people coming and going throughout the two hours. Jimin was glad that Taehyung didn’t have a chance to make another drink for himself. The dude was definitely shaking from how much he already drank. 

"Omg! what if they started sacrificing people to make their coffee better?" Taehyung said, jumping from the chair he was lounging on during his break, his eyes wide. Jimin was thankful that Taehyung wasn’t holding his latte as he started swinging his arms around. 

Jimin laughed and shook his head.

"I've read stories of people investigating similar stuff, "Taehyung continued, coming up to the counter to whisper conspiratorially, "I once heard of someone... I think his name was Namjoon and he went searching into a coffee shop because their stuff suddenly got good but people were going missing. Do we know of anyone who went missing recently?

Raising an eyebrow, Jimin tried to think of where this story might have come from "I don't think so. Besides, I've been working 50 hours lately, when would they have had time to kidnap people? How would it even make the coffee better?"

Taehyung threw his hands up, his eyes widening with dramatics, "There are gods you can sacrifice people to, duh."

Did this come from a book Taehyung read? 

Jimin nodded, sipping his tea, "Sure. So this Namjoon dude went and investigated?"

Taehyung nodded, "Yeah. Apparently in the attic, there was a whole ass cult!" Taehyung shivered, "Imagine if that was happening here!"

"We have an office above us and no basement."

"You never know! What if they just told us that? Anyways Namjoon went missing apparently."

Jimin nodded, his mind finally landing on a book that fit what Taehyung was talking about. *Dungeons and Dry Cappuccinos.*, "Maybe Namjoon ended up being sacrificed. Maybe the missing people were a lure for people with no life who spent too much time online."

That last part wasn’t part of the story but it always seemed true to Jimin. 

Taehyung hummed, deep in thought, "I saw pictures of him somewhere. He's hot. I think he actually wooed this god named Seokjin. They, like, lived happily ever after. What if he and this god married and have coffee orchards?"

Jimin laughed, thinking back on the promotional material for the book, "I don't think coffee orchards exist."

"You know what I mean."

Jimin nodded, "If that's the case and no one has gone missing around us,how do we keep the coffee here so good? Clearly it’s good for the bank."

“Well our dessert drinks are more expensive so I don’t know about that. But…” Taehyung got quiet, his eyes focusing on nothing as he thought, "If Seokjin has blessed us then I think there has to be more love here. Not enough romance happens. That has to change."

Taehyung looked serious, his eyes burning with passion. Jimin felt alive with the intimidation and curiosity. What was Taehyung playing at?

Jimin laughed and shook his head, "How?"

"Go on a date with me."

His breath caught in his throat, unable to believe that Taehyung was asking this. Searching Taehyung’s face, Jimin saw no mirth anymore. Was he serious? 

"What?"

The sureness left Taehyung’s face and he looked down, scraping at some dried coffee grounds, "To appease the coffee gods, of course."

Was Taehyung just as unsure about getting closer? Jimin smiled, trying to calm the excitement in his stomach.

"Of course. It’s vital we appease Seokjin. When?"

[max1461]

There's an emergent genre of travel YouTubers right now, pioneered I think by pickup artist and objectively bad person (but undeniably genius content creator) "Bald and Bankrupt" Benjamin Rich. These guys are doing a kind of gonzo travelogue thing that is pretty interesting to me. It's a little hard to summarize their ethos in abstract, I recommend you just watch some of their stuff.

Bald and Bankrupt in particular is sort of, his persona is that of like, a brash-yet-surprisingly-cultured asshole? He behaves like an asshole, on camera, all the time. He makes degrading comments about women and not too infrequent racist jokes. At the same time he (his persona, idk) shows a certain amount of... tender humanism? Like he goes to a lot of places that are regarded as dangerous or squalid, and rather than doing the usual "I almost got killed!!!" thing, he's invariably interested in showing that they're not that bad, documenting how life is normal there, showing positive interactions with people. He travels around Eastern Europe a lot and has an abiding appreciation for Soviet architecture and design, which he documents with enthusiasm. He's talked about the value of learning the language of the places you travel to—not in a careful academic way (he advises that one "ignore grammar entirely"), but in a loose way that just allows you to communicate with people. In his videos traveling through India, he makes sure use the right greeting with Muslims, Hindus, Sikhs and so on.

Oh, and, right, he's ridiculously extroverted. He immediately behaves in a chummy and objectively over-friendly way with every person he meets.

What I want to say about him is something like... he presents a worldview that I think is basically respect-worthy, and in fact a refreshing antidote to the kinds of attitudes I typically encounter in the "nerd spaces" in which I'm spending a lot of my time lately. But he is, as I said, objectively a bad person. He can be over-friendly like that because he has no respect for anyone's boundaries, and he seems in his personal life to have no qualms about exploiting people (especially women) and treating them like shit. I can't imagine he pays any mind to ethics when he travels to impoverished places and meets and interacts with struggling people.

If you're going to watch his videos, do it with an ad-blocker or something, idk how YouTube revenue works but I don't really want to support this guy. But I admit that I do watch his videos, at least sometimes, when they show up in my recommendations. Because they're a little bit infectious, frankly, and I think that as works a lot of them have value. In fact I'd go farther and say that some of them are among the best content being produced on YouTube right now, period. You just have to engage in some pretty heavy separation of the art from the artist.