#who's going to make me feel better about this situation?

[markrosewater]

I want to speak out against the whole push towards DEI. I feel that ever since you made the push to make identity the forefront of a character it has hurt the stories you tell. Captain Sisay's race was never the focus of her character and she was a complete badass! And I fear if you did it over again Gerrard would be trans, black and disabled just because. It also cheapens the stories of world devastation when characters worry more about their gender than Bolas destroying everything.

The reason I started this blog is so we can have frank conversations about things, so please let’s talk about this.

Imagine if every time you turned on the TV or watched a movie, no one looked like you. For some of us, that’s never happened. We see ourselves constantly, so it’s hard to truly understand what not seeing yourself represented in media is like.

I do have a personal window to this experience. While I am white and male, there’s an area where I am the minority - my religion. Jews are just under two and a half percent of the US population. I have had many experiences where I’ve been in situations where everything is geared towards a group I do not belong to, and zero consideration is given that not everyone at that event is part of the majority.

You just feel invisible and like an outsider. It’s not a great feeling. And I just experience it a tiny portion of time, only things that are geared specifically towards something religious. Most minorities have this feeling all the time, whenever they’re outside their personal community.

Now imagine, after years of not seeing yourself ever, you finally see someone that looks like you, but nothing about the character rings remotely true. They don’t sound like you, they don’t act like you, the facts about their day-to-day life are just wrong. It’s clear whoever wrote the character didn’t truly understand the lived experience of the character, so the character feels fake.

You bring up Sisay. Michael Ryan and I didn’t technically create Sisay (she played a small role in the Mirage story), but we did do a lot to flesh out her character as the creators of the Weatherlight Saga. We turned her from a minor character into a major one.

And while I’m proud, in general, of our work on the Weatherlight Saga, I don’t think we did justice to Sisay as a character. Neither Michael nor I have any knowledge of what it’s like to be a black woman. Nor did we ever talk to someone who did.

And if you’re someone like us that has no knowledge of that experience, you probably didn’t notice. But that doesn’t mean it’s a good thing.

Imagine if we made a movie about your life, and we just made everything up. We invented people you never knew, we gave you a job you never had, and we had you say things you’d never say. The movie might even be a good movie, but your response would be, but that’s not my life - that’s not me.

Now imagine we put the movie out, and people that never met you assumed that was what you were like. When people met you for the first time, they assumed things, because, you know, they’d seen the movie.

That’s what misrepresenting people does. It not only makes them feel not seen, it falsely represents them, spreading lies, often stereotypes, making people believe things about them that aren’t true.

Our move towards diversity is just us trying to better reflect the world and the people in it. We’re trying to do to everyone else what a certain portion of people get every day without ever having to think about it.

But why are we “making it the forefront of their character”? We’re not. We’re making it a part of their character. But in a world where you’re not used to ever seeing it, it feels louder than it is. Things that are a natural part of the world that you’re used to feel like the background of the story because you understand the context to it.

If a man kisses his wife before going off to a battle, that’s not a big deal. It’s just a thing a husband might do to his wife when he leaves. It’s not the forefront of his character. It’s just part of his life. But you’ve seen it hundreds of times, so it feels normal.

When someone does something that isn’t your lived experience it pulls focus. It seems like a big deal, but only because it’s new to you. It’s just as mundane a thing to that character as the man kissing his wife is to him.

Even the turn “pushing” implies that it’s unnaturally here, that we’re forcing something that naturally shouldn’t be. But why? That thing exists naturally in the real world, and it doesn’t make the real world any less. Maybe you’re less aware of it, but is making you aware of how others live their life “pushing” something on you?

How you live your life is represented constantly, everywhere. Why isn’t over-representing your experience at the expense of everyone else’s “pushing” it? Why is media only being the experience of those in power the “proper way”?

Having more depth and variety doesn’t lessen stories. It makes them deeper, more rich, more nuanced. In short, it makes them better stories. In my former life, I was a professional writer. I took a lot of writing classes. One of the truism of writing is “speaking truth leads to better stories”.

There’s another famous quote: “When you’re accustomed to privilege, equality feels like oppression.” You’re used to being over-represented, so being a little less over-represented feels like something has been taken from you. But really it hasn’t. Having a better sense of the rest of the world comes with a lot of benefits.

I’ll use food as an example. Let’s say all you were ever exposed to was the food of your heritage. Yeah, that food is really good, but sometimes isn’t it nice to eat foods of other nationalities? Isn’t your life better that you have a choice? Isn’t your exposure and access to the food of other nationalities a positive in your life?

Exposure to variety is a positive. It allows you to learn about things you didn’t know, experience things things you’ve never experienced, and get a better sense of understanding of your friends and neighbors.

Our actions are not to harm anyone, and if you think that’s what we’re doing, please take a minute to actually absorb what I’m saying. You’ve spent your whole life metaphorically eating one type of food, and we’re just trying to show you how much you’ve missed out on.

And while this might not impact you directly, we’re making a whole bunch of people felt seen. We’re bringing joy. Think of it this way. We make a lot of cards. Not every card is for you. But if it makes someone else happy, if they get to include it in a deck, and it makes Magic better for them, how is it harming you that we include it? You have so many cards that you can play.

To this poster or people that share their viewpoint, the narrative that a gain for someone else is an attack on you is just not true. As I just pointed out above, you play a game all about personal choice, about players getting to choose how they play and enjoy the game. Why should life be any different than Magic?

Thanks for reading.

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

Megumi was even shocked hearing this but he didn't know that. What in the world was going on?! Given the situation, he was not sure how to respond to that! 'Is he fucking serious!?' he thought.

"You heard me, you crazy son of a bitch! Soft boobs are real for every lovely lady. They are warm, firm, and soft. You feel safe and secure when you come home from a hard day of work! Nothing beats them! Not even big asses! It's a natural beauty wonder of all women! When you lay against them, you feel safe." Kisho points at Todo angrily.

"And you know what else! Thighs!" "Thighs?!" Todo blinks. "They're also soft when you lay your head on their laps! They're strong and firm! Fuck! I don't even mind if my head gets crushed! And when you give them piggybacks or carry them on their shoulders. They're warm! So I'm going to say! YOUR PREFERENCES ARE SHIT!!!'"

Todo said nothing but he felt his eye twitching hearing this. He was serious! He thought thighs and soft boobs were better!? What the heck!? "You...HOW DARE YOU!!! HOW DARE YOU CALL MY PREFERENCES SHIT!"

"....Given to how you tend to be angry that might seem right.." Megumi grumbled but Todo didn't hear him.

"You know what!? You don't get it! I'll be sure to get you back for this!! My preferences are perfect! You have no taste in a lady!" He said about to punch Kisho for that!

"KISHO!"

As Todo was about to punch him dead in the face, someone stops the punch to make Todo blink. "Huh?"

Megumi sweatdrops but he saw who it was to make him sigh. "Great....."

Todo blinks but looks seeing a raven-haired girl having the palm of her hand stop the punch. She was looking down but showing the uniform but in her style with the hoodie as well.

"Uhhhhh...who are you???"

".........." The girl said nothing but she quickly grabs Todo's hand to tight hold that she quickly uses her strength to lift him up and hold him above her head. This shocked Todo but the same for some others.

"WHAT THE HELL?!"

"Hey put me down!? What are you doing!?" He said only for the girl to be Miko who quickly slams him down hard in the ground. That's when she holds him down in a hold while holding him there.

"How dare you hurt my Kisho?! Who the heck are you!?"

"LET ME GO! LET ME GO THAT HURTS! T_T"

"Yeah..he pissed her off.." Hana said giggling while seeing Miko now throwing him outside out the window into the ground as Miko rolls up her sleeves but goes to fix it. Moments after, they heard Todo screaming for help as Miko was beating him up.

"STOP BEATING ME UP!! STOP BEATING ME UP THAT HURTS!!!!"

"Wait for me!" Miwa follows however some of the second years were following. Even seeing Yuta following confused to what was happening. They were hearing the shouting and arguing going on.

"I don't know. I know she was out getting things for us girls and for you Miwa to welcome you here." Yuria said. They did see that Todo was trying to find him.

"YOU'RE CRAZY! WHAT KIND OF GUY BEATS UP SOMEONE OVER PERFERENCES!!!" Kisho screams. Soon, they will reach the kitchen as he crashes through the window and lands on a table where drinks are spilled. Kisho groans as Eito is chirping and squawking, telling him to get up.

"Listen to you! I know the real ways of a lovely lady! SOMETHING YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" He yells, now standing up on the table as Todo skids inside and faces Kisho on the floor. Rioto and Noritoshi finally arrive at the cafeteria, following the source of the shouting.

"Really?! And what's that?!" Todo yells. Miwa leads the girls to where Todo is due to the sound of the boisterous voice. "Since you like tall girls with big asses! Guess what I like?!"

"And what is that?! Normal boring young ladies that isn't not with the big assets!?" he shouted that the others sweatdrops. However, someone saw but hurries to where the noise was coming from.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Oh oh what about soft!dom remus and reader who’s upset over a conversation with her family and doesn’t know how to let it go and he helps distract/regulate her???

Not sure if this is soft!dom, but he definitely helps reader relax and work through it mentally

“You’re stewing dovey.” Remus murmurs as he reaches for you on the settee.

He’s got a plate in one hand, bread pudding you’d been asking for all weekend and some fruit on the side.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, they’re so mean and it’s fine when they do it. But when I stick up for myself suddenly I’m a raging bitch.”

Remus shakes his head, kissing your temple as you start to get angry all over again. “You’re not a bitch. They’re just close minded.”

He placed the plate in your lap and you sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I just get so pissed because why it’s okay for them but I’m a pariah when I do it? I’m not immune to bad moods, I just don’t take it out on everyone.”

Remus knows from Sirius that family relationships are tough. Sirius’ situation was different but he can see similarities between yours and his.

Your family, mainly your siblings, expect you to be this perfect golden child and you can never make a mistake and it weighs on you.

It’s why Remus and you only see your mum when you visit and your sister sometimes. Your brothers are another story.

“And you’re better for that dovey. You’re not a pariah, you’re allowed all of your feelings even if they try to make you feel bad. You won’t get censorship here.” Remus nudges your knee with his. “C’mon, eat before it goes cold.”

You take a bite and your shoulders drop a little- Remus is a wizard at bread pudding. It’s somehow never sopping wet on the bottom. It’s a comfort food of yours and after today it was necessary.

Remus chooses his words carefully while you eat.

“I know you care what they think of you, but I think sometimes they need the reality check you just gave them. They can’t walk all over you and expect it not to get tiring.”

You nod, “I just, I don’t want to be a bad person.”

Remus smiles at that. “You could never be a bad person dove.”

You roll your eyes as you offer him the last bite. “You’re biased, and you’re supposed to think highly of me.”

Remus speaks around the bite, “I am biased, but we both know I’m not going to let you be a bad person if I thought that’s what you were becoming.”

It’s true. Remus has stopped many spirals and many mean rants the moment they got deprecating.

“So you’d tell me?”

Remus kisses your temple, “If I ever got a feeling that you were being a bad person I’d tell you.” You seem content at that. Remus holds you closer to his chest. “For the record, I thought you could’ve stood to be a tiny bit more stern on the phone, but I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself.”

You smile as you tip your head back to his chest to look up at him. “Ah, I had help learning how to do that.”

Remus rubs your chest at the admission. “Whoever they are, they seem very smart.” There’s a cheeky smile on his face, but mostly he really is proud of you for standing up for yourself.

“You would think so.”

[00valentina-writes00]

How about sevika with a terminally sick gf. I really loved the one you wrote for vi

♡♥︎Sevika with a terminally ill girlfriend♥︎♡

♥︎ Sevika doesn’t show much, but she’s absolutely destroyed when she finds out. There’s a crack in her usually unflappable armor, a flicker of vulnerability she tries to bury beneath her usual hard edges.

♥︎ She doesn’t talk about it much, but she starts keeping tabs on doctors, researching treatments, and trying to get her hands on any illegal or experimental cures she can afford. She won’t let you give up, even if you’re already resigned.

♥︎ Her usual harshness turns into something colder. She doesn’t waste time with anything unnecessary. If she’s going to help you, it’s going to be in the most effective way possible. No sentimental words, just straight to the point: “I’ll fix this. You’re not dying on me.”

♥︎ When you start getting weaker, she gets more demanding. She pushes you to eat, to stay awake, to fight. She’s relentless because if she doesn’t see you fight, it breaks her apart

♥︎ There are nights when she stays up late, arms crossed, staring out at the dark streets of Zaun, thinking about ways to make you better. Even the shimmer she injects into her system doesn’t offer any comfort when she watches you fade.

♥︎ She spends hours researching obscure treatments, bargaining with shady figures, doing whatever it takes to extend your life, even if it’s just a few more weeks or days. It doesn’t matter how much it costs.

♥︎ At some point, she starts finding herself hovering at your side all the time. She doesn’t want to leave. Not even to sleep. It becomes a strange routine for her, a kind of forced comfort where the silence between you is full of things neither of you are brave enough to say.

♥︎ If you’re awake enough, she’ll push your hair out of your face, but she won’t look you in the eyes. She doesn’t know how to handle the emotions you bring out in her, and it terrifies her.

♥︎ She never asks you how you’re feeling or if you want to talk about it, because she’s afraid you’ll say that you’re giving up. She can’t handle hearing it from your lips, even though she knows deep down you’re right.

♥︎ She starts to get more agitated, snapping at people who are just trying to help because nothing feels like it’s good enough. If anyone says something remotely positive about your situation, she shuts them down hard. She can’t pretend like there’s hope when there’s none.

♥︎ When you can’t leave the bed anymore, Sevika starts bringing everything to you. Food, water, medicine, books to distract you—anything to keep you from slipping further into the darkness.

♥︎ She never shows her tears, but sometimes when she thinks you’re sleeping, she finds herself staring at you, face etched with raw pain, her jaw clenched tight to hold back the wave of emotions that threatens to drown her.

♥︎ Her temper is worse than usual. She’s quick to lash out at others, mostly because she’s so incredibly fucking scared. Scared of losing you. Scared of not being able to save you. And she hates herself for not being able to fix it.

♥︎ She makes herself scarce around people when it gets worse. She’s quieter, more brooding, because the weight of her guilt and helplessness is too heavy to share. The only place she feels even a little bit in control is by your side.

♥︎ On the nights you’re too weak to speak, she holds your hand with a tightness that borders on painful. Her touch is demanding, like she’s afraid you’ll slip away in the blink of an eye.

♥︎ She doesn’t let you see her fear. Every day is a reminder of how much she’s failing you. And every time she sees that spark of hope in your eyes, it drives her mad because she knows she can’t keep it alive forever.

♥︎ As things worsen, she starts avoiding the topic of your death. It feels like a betrayal every time someone mentions it. She ignores the reality, pretending there’s a chance things will magically improve.

♥︎ When you do finally die, it feels like she’s been hit by a freight train. The finality of it leaves her in a state of shock, unable to process it. She doesn’t cry in front of you, not even when she closes your eyes for the last time.

♥︎ Sevika keeps busy after your passing. She throws herself into work, into anything that will distract her from the empty space beside her. She stops sleeping, drinking herself into oblivion, until her body can’t keep up with her broken heart.

♥︎ There are days when the memories hit her in waves. She can still hear your voice in her head, your laugh, the way you’d complain when she pushed too hard. And every time, it feels like a weight she can’t shake.

♥︎ People stop asking her how she’s doing because it’s obvious. She doesn’t need words anymore. The silence speaks for her. She’s the same outwardly—cold, distant—but internally, she’s unraveling, a mess of emotions she doesn’t know how to deal with.

♥︎ She tries to convince herself it’s better this way. You aren’t suffering anymore, and she can’t deny that you were getting worse. But she also knows she’ll never be the same again. That part of her is gone, taken by something she could never control.

♥︎ In the long run, Sevika doesn’t let anyone get close to her again. The wound you left in her will never heal, and she doesn’t think anyone could ever fill the hole you left behind. Not that she’s ready for that anyway

♥︎ But every now and then, when she’s alone, she lets herself think back to you. To the time you spent together, how you made her laugh, how you made her feel alive again. And she lets herself grieve the woman who was once hers.

[angellic4l]

nine lives - d.m

in which; derek gets injured in the field and fem!reader isn’t happy with him.

content; tw! derek has bruises from bullets, kinda graphic desc(?), nicknames (doll, sugar, ma'am, etc,), cocky!derek x annoyed!reader, inaccuracies i’m sure but who cares, derek's abs, jj cockblocks(?) i suppose.

a/n; @darkmatilda requested this everybody say thank you matilda! i’ve been slacking w posting but my wips hate me apparently. kisses! wc: 1.9k

A sickly feeling still resided in your stomach. Your head was throbbing with the constant bombardment of ‘what if?’ and a million ways the situation could’ve been avoided. This and the three distinct crashes of go bags hitting oak desks, similar to that of three gunshots - at least in your addled brain - were enough to tell you that the irritation that’s been brewing was definitely still residing.

He’d been hurt in the field.

The thought almost made you gag, the anger overpowering, consuming every part of your body until you did something about it. It felt like it was begging you to purge it, cleanse it from your body, and god did you want to. However, the more logical part of you knew that throwing up wouldn’t make the frustration go away, wouldn’t stop the onslaught of worst case scenarios in your mind’s eye. The only thing it would serve for is making you feel even worse.

Opening one of the wooden desk drawers, you take out a water bottle and guzzle almost half of it down. In the midst of all of the stress and chaos, water was the least of your priorities. From across the room, a pair of eyes can be felt tracking you, watching each and every move you make. Against your better judgement, your head snapped up to see who it was.A futile action; you had already known that it was Derek staring at you but, since the incident, you’d made it a point to avoid him. Unfortunately for you, instincts had taken over a few moments ago and now the awkward jet ride had been in vain.

Realistically, you were aware that being mad at somebody for getting shot at wasn’t particularly logical, but you couldn’t help it, and so you’d kept your distance from Morgan. In place of your usual banter on the jet was an unusual silence, your ears were void of the usual 90’s hip-hop/R&B that came with him sharing his headphones with you, and he wasn’t warming your side with his usual presence because you’d sat away from him.

Familiar voices snap you both out of the staring contest that had started to ensue, your mind quickly recognising them as Reid and Penelope’s.

“He what?” Penelope gasped, manicured hands slapping over her mouth instantaneously.

In response, Spencer’s face had fallen flat, lips pressing into a thin line, signalling he’d probably just let something slip that wasn’t already common knowledge. Clearly, he’d just accidentally informed Penelope about Derek’s incident out in the field.

“Reid,” Morgan chided, before turning his attention to the blonde who stood in front of him now, “Baby girl, I’m okay. See? Still alive and breathin’.”

“But you… And the… Oh God,” Penelope stopped and started, trailing off before starting another thought. Whether it was because she was overwhelmed by the news or didn’t want to say the words out loud, you weren’t too sure.

Watching the whole ordeal from your desk only intensified the completely unreasonable anger you felt, tongue poking the inside of your cheek. Derek’s soothing murmurs to Penelope faded into the background as the different outcomes of today played in your head.

Derek had been shot at, standard for a field agent of course, but the bullets had hit him. If it wasn’t for his vest, he would be in the hospital right now. All because he’d taken a chance and trusted a deranged psychopath to put down his weapon at the hands of the FBI. God, the overwhelming urge to smack some sense into Derek Morgan only grew as you thought about the situation, how he hadn’t waited for back up, how he’d lowered his weapon without so much as an ounce of hesitation.

The opinions you harboured on the matter weren’t fair; you weren’t there, you don’t know what had actually happened, however any and all logic was proving to be out of depth in the cauldron of agitation that had been brewing since you’d been told what had happened. You knew that it wasn’t fair to blame him. You also knew that this response definitely came from fear rather than actually being mad at him, but acknowledging that meant opening up the door for something else entirely. Some things were better left untouched, in your opinion.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Based on the terribly sluggish nature of everybody’s movements and the slow ticking of the clock looming over the room, it was obvious that nobody wanted to be at work. In full fairness, it wasn’t usual to stay at the bureau after returning from a case, but the case had wrapped up quicker than expected. Hotch had announced on the jet that Strauss had ‘asked’ if it were a possibility. You figured it was to make up for the hotel rooms they’d prepaid for, what with the new budget cuts.

After what felt like the umpteenth time you’d caught yourself staring at Derek and watching him wince in pain, you chewed the inside of your cheek while standing up and making your way over to his desk. The bullpen was free from the team; Hotch and Rossi were in their offices, as was JJ, Reid was off in Penelope’s ‘lair’, and Prentiss was in the kitchenette making coffee. By the time you’d reached Derek’s desk, you were sure you’d be missing half of your cheek with the vice-like grip your premolars had on it.

Once you were fairly certain that opening your mouth wouldn’t be followed by an onslaught of swear words or beratement, you spoke to Morgan for the first time in hours.

“Come with me.”

“You tryin’ to kidnap me, doll? If you want me that bad, you can just say so,” he teases, attempting a soft snicker at his own joke before wincing in pain slightly.

“No. Just stop being cocky and listen for once, Derek.”

For a few moments, he leaves you standing in front of his desk, waiting for a response, and feeling like an absolute idiot. Finally, he gives you a look - accompanied by a small shrug of one shoulder - that simply reads as ‘touche’ and then he’s rising from his seat. Schooling your expression to keep it impassive as you turn to lead the way, silently relieved that he’s actually cooperating with you, you remain silent as you keep walking with Derek behind you.

Just down the hall from the bullpen and the other offices the BAU consists of, there’s a small, beige, forgotten infirmary room that nobody ever uses for its original intention. That changes today, you suppose. As Derek shuts the door behind himself, he opens his mouth after taking in the secluded room and the examination table that could double as a bed, but you beat him to it.

“Sit down, Morgan.”

“Sugar, you are desperate for it, huh?”

“Sit. Down.”

He raises his hands in mock surrender, “Yes ma’am,” before sitting on the bed of green plastic covered with a thin sheet of paper.

With Derek finally sat down, you open one of the dusty cupboards and pull out one of the 15 (you counted them once) first aid kits in there before turning back to face Morgan and placing it to the left of him. Unclipping the green, plastic case and opening it up causes one of Morgan’s eyebrows to raise.

“What’s that for, sugar?”

“You. I know you’re in pain and not saying anything.”

Your tone is firm, facial expression showing nothing but exasperation with him so, he relents with a sigh before grabbing the hem of his grey t-shirt and pulling it up so that you can tend to his wounds. At the sight of his bare skin, abs exposed to you and all, your heart rate picks up and the room feels like it’s getting warmer by the minute.

“Stupid decision, by the way,” you add in a murmur, praying to whatever is out there that he can’t tell how much his chiseled torso is affecting you.

“Mama, I’m just fine. Really,” he insists, but you’re already digging through the first aid box.

Remembering what he’d been told to do by paramedics, to keep the bruises cool and wrapped, you reach for one of the ice packs in the first aid kit. Before activating it, your hand hesitantly moves towards the wrapped section of his midriff to expose the bruised skin beneath it.

Morgan hisses slightly when your finger brushes a bruise rather than the white cloth, the sound causing you to retract your hand as if he had hurt you and not the other way around. You mumble a small sorry and return your attention to the ice pack next to him, picking it up and activating it with a cracking noise.

“This gonna hurt?”

“Not as much as getting shot at.”

“What was that for?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

By now, you’re pressing the ice pack lightly to the area of injury, barely any space between the two of you as he sits on the examining table with you standing in between his legs. Your gaze finally meets his - probably a good thing, you conclude, because staring at his abs any longer might’ve made you melt - eye contact unwavering.

“Don’t play that game with me. Since I got shot, you’ve been acting differently. Avoiding me, sitting away from me on the jet, hardly even making eye contact with me, this weird hostile attitude. Why?”

“Because, Derek, you got shot at and it was stupid. You should’ve been more careful.”

“Sugar, I know you don’t believe it was my fault I got shot,” his tone softens, “What’s really going on up there, hm?”

His finger lightly taps on your forehead, again reminding you of just how close the two of you are to each other, because you didn’t even see his arm move to do it. Both of you are yet to disturb the intense eye contact happening, eyes boring into each other’s - his searching for answers in yours, yours seeking relief in his.

“I shouldn’t have been mad at you for getting shot at. I’m sorry.”

“I just wanna know why, doll.”

“You scared me. A lot,” you admit in a whisper, fighting the urge to bow your head and nuzzle into the top of his chest.

Instead, you keep your head level as the both of you stare at each other, your hand still pressing the ice pack to his lower midriff during the interaction. Visibly, his face softens with your admission, and then his lips curve into a barely there smirk.

“Yeah? You care about me, sweetheart? Awh,” he teases.

“Seriously. You don’t have nine lives, D, you can’t risk losing this one.”

“Yes, ma’am. I am so sorry for forgetting that I’m not a cat.”

“God, you can’t ever be serious, can you?”

“Hard to be serious when there’s a pretty woman tending to my wounds, angel.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you mutter and let your eyes drop to his abs between you, momentarily distracted.

“See something you like?”

As you go to reply, lips slightly parted - though the words that should’ve come out hadn’t even fully formed in your head yet - the door swings open to reveal one Jennifer Jareau. Morgan turns his head slowly to look at her while you whip your head to the right so fast it could’ve given you whiplash.

JJ’s face contorts with confusion, you presume it’s because she only expected to find you in here - and certainly not extremely close to Morgan with your hand resting on his midriff.

“I’m so sorry. I’m not interrupting something, am I?”

“No, Jayje, you’re okay,” you reassure her.

“Hotch needs everyone in the briefing room.”

“We just got back,” Morgan grumbles.

“He said it was urgent. I’ll uh, let you two… finish up,” the blond says quietly, giving the two of you an awkward smile, and then closing the door behind her.

[essektheylyss]

idk I kind of feel like I'm an idiot bc I actually enjoyed cr 3 from the jump to the end but like the blogs who follow bc I feel they are definitely more articulate and insightful than me are like "the whole thing was meaningless and pointless! matt fumbled everything!" so maybe I'm wrong to have liked it all? I'm not really sure where I'm going with this sorry

I think one thing to keep in mind is that many (and in fact, I would argue, most!) people who are critiquing the story and construction have also generally enjoyed the campaign as a whole! Certainly I don't know anyone who stuck it out through the end who did not overall enjoy watching it, for various reasons; I know there are people who hate watch, which I think is an absurd and honestly really stupid waste of time, but from my experience they are normally making snide and vicious tweet-length posts rather than long considerations of what isn't working for them.

There are also a lot of levels of critique—I've greatly enjoyed a lot of moments in isolation that I simultaneously felt weakened, contradicted, or even actively undermined the structure of the story as a whole, but those moments were still really fun and interesting beats. The Arch Heart's cameo comes to mind, as does, in hindsight, some of the construction of the post-Solstice split, but there are plenty of others of higher or lower impact on the story. In the finale the Raise Dead falls into this place very strongly, so I'm going to talk about it at length for a moment, since it was an absolutely stellar moment for me personally and as such I do think it serves as very illustrative of an example where I simultaneously fucking love a moment while finding it worth significant critique. I think it also touches on the critiques you're referring to, which I would summarize overall as the idea that many of the outcomes feel influenced negatively by pulled punches on the part of the DM rather than a flaw of one player or another. (Also, I want to talk about it cuz I love it. :3) This got very long but I think that to your point, it is worth examining in this amount of depth.

First, the good: it is an absolutely phenomenal culminating point of an arc that was only really concluded in summary; I have, as noted earlier this week, written at length about how Essek is never situated as a protagonist, which is functionally fine and even good. He ends up tied very strongly to Caleb's arc, and moves in the narrative in such a way after 2x97 that allows Caleb to reach a concluding note, and strengthens that narrative. So we only really hear about the outcome of Essek's choices, his inevitable leave from the Dynasty, in the summarization of the campaign 2 epilogue. This is not inherently a problem, because he is not a protagonist. But this moment does functionally create a material representation of that denouement, and in particular the tension between the outcomes of his poor choices and the better—potentially even good!—person he is trying to be as a result of the Nein's influence, which does strengthen his arc in its own right.

This moment also, hilariously, bears out my argument from this post. That the resurrection should only work with this intervention, particularly while the Nein are involved, does follow through on the Nein's general positioning within Exandria. Essek's leave happening without a fight (and, frankly, with only one attempted Counterspell) both makes for a very well-paced moment and also maintains the overall sense of story that the Nein impart when they are on screen; I'm thinking again of how their Ruidus episodes feel, much like their campaign and their post-campaign one-shots, like an intrigue action thriller series, and this fits well in that framing.

So overall, it is a fantastic moment... for the Nein. The Nein are not the protagonists of this story. They exist in the world, and are such active agents that they do continue to develop and exert motion on the narrative into this campaign, and frankly, I think this would have been fine if the party given ownership of this story and campaign did not abdicate their responsibility for it with unfortunate frequency. They do not exert a strong control over their story, which is at odds with the fact that the Nein do, and are present and also involved by the nature of their ending. It completely overshadows Ashton's heroic moment, in that the culminating action beat of this sequence is Essek getting away, which kind of takes the wind out of the sails of the Hells' involvement in the gods' outcome. It doesn't negate it, certainly, but it does refocus the story from them to, for some reason, Essek. So in this sense, it occurs at the expense of the Hells.

I find that while the handwaving of using dunamantic intervention to push Raise Dead beyond its limits (if indeed the reason it didn't originally work was because Ashton's brain was essentially gone) fits fine and even well within the framework of the Nein's story, and an NPC being able to do so without a roll is fine, since NPCs are vehicles the DM uses to guide the story, this is a significant divergence from the overall mechanics of the world at large; even the Nein had to do a full ritual for the resurrection of their tiefling. Matt put those mechanics in place specifically to create narrative meaning behind resurrections, which can feel very unmotivated and like a get out of jail free card in D&D, and while it's been noted that this would've really strained the runtime beyond its existing length, prioritizing it at the cost of, for instance, more truncated end notes for the Nein and Vox would've bolstered the Hells' presence in an ending to their own story that even many of their fans felt was ultimately lacking.

Giving the resurrection full weight would've also given Ashton's sacrifice and the Hells' involvement more narrative weight; the reason the other parties are involved at all is because the Hells were truly running on fumes by that point, but any lack of involvement this created could've been alleviated by having them directly involved through pre-established ritual elements that are not contingent on them having any mechanical offerings. So this moment sits within the context of critique that I agree with: that it felt like a pulled punch that ultimately also served to decenter the Hells within their own narrative, when it could've been used with more deliberate narrative force.

At the same time, I fucking love it, and watched it four times in a row yesterday, because it is so good—and it is, as I described, narratively and thematically coherent in one sense! And I think that is one issue of the campaign: many, many great moments are excellent and coherent in a certain framework but are weaker to varying degrees when considered as one piece of a larger whole. There are so many frameworks at play in this narrative, and not enough direct intervention to manage those as frameworks rather than as a single story, but at the same time, I think those frameworks are far more apparent if you're really looking for them, and that's much more difficult, if not impossible, when you're in the midst of them and telling the story.

I also don't think this means one cannot critique this; in fact, I would say this is more an issue of being a serialized narrative than an improvised one, which is often how critique of it has been pushed back against within the fandom. I was thinking about this as I'm currently in a course on, quite literally, how to critique comics, and we discussed this week how Marjane Satrapi said in an interview after making the film adaptation of Persepolis, which was first a serialized comic, that she ended up preferring the film, and I speculated that was because with a film, one has the ability to make a more cohesive narrative purely by virtue of the fact that with a serialized form, you cannot go back and make retroactive edits when new developments come to light. This is something that long-running comics must constantly navigate (as do many long TV shows), and in extreme circumstances such as decades-old comic franchises, ends up resulting in infinite timelines and hand-waving, which becomes so ridiculous that at this point it's a meme. In that scenario, though, it is not presented as a non-contradictory story, let alone a cohesive one.

Many of the critiques of campaign 3 are operating within the idea that this is presented as one overarching narrative. (And honestly, comics and other narratives that don't utilize that presentation are also still critiqued on that merit by people who greatly enjoy the texts they're critiquing anyway.) Within that context, I feel that the framing of the Raise Dead, as well as much of what would be my critique of the other pieces I referenced (the Arch Heart's cameo and some of the party-split sections) if I was to do the same kind of rundown of those, actively undermine this presentation by introducing and forefronting too many conflicting frameworks that are not interwoven well enough to create a single, cohesive overarching narrative.

This is a very long-winded way to illustrate my point, which is that I would really encourage reading critique not as a lack of enjoyment of the campaign, let alone a suggestion that no one should've enjoyed it (and if you did, then you're not smart enough to know better), but as a way to engage with the text(s) as presented within one framework or another. I think this is sometimes obscured in online fandom spaces, where we're not engaging in critique in as formal of a sense as one would in, say, an academic setting, where the norms generally dictate the framework one is using is explicitly stated if not fully delineated within the critique, but it is, more often than not, still implicitly present within the critique.

And as a final note, I would also really urge everyone reading others' opinions on something they enjoy to resist the urge to elide their own opinions from the conversation, even if you don't feel as articulate or as well-versed in critique. Critique is a trained skill, so it is certainly something one can pick up if they are inclined, and at the same time, someone doing it does not mean they are inherently right—and in fact, with all argumentative writing, it is up to the reader to consider the argument and decide whether or not they agree with it. (You can decide that you disagree with me about the Raise Dead! Just because I wrote a thousand words on it does not inherently make my interpretation truth; it's just an interpretation. You get to say whether or not you think my interpretation makes sense based on the evidence presented.) Even here I'm using the framework of some critique that others have made, but I don't delineate in full myself. In doing do I'm not presuming that you agree, but I am presuming that you've read it and know what I'm referring to. Strictly speaking it's also not even saying that I take that critique as true; it's saying that I feel the conclusions drawn are applicable as a basis for my argument. If you wanted, you could even say that you feel that my argument is irrelevant to you because you don't feel those critiques are true! But you ultimately do have to be the one to decide any of that, which does involve a balance between a confidence in the formation of your own opinions on the text and an openness to entertaining others'.

[i-am-countess-olivia]

This isn't some novel thought, but for me Fitzier begins in ep2, when Silna's father is brought onto Erebus

(a long-ish, GIF-heavy scene breakdown follows)

I won't cover the violations of Silna's beliefs, feelings and bodily autonomy which happen in these moments - they are of course terrible and very important. Instead, I want to focus on how the scene kicks off a new dynamic between Francis and James, how it lays a foundation for their subsequent closeness and how it changes our view of who James might be as a person.

Let’s begin.

Sir John and James arrive in the sick bay to join Stanley and Goodsir. Stanley says: "nope, not touching this one". Goodsir asks for leave to save the shaman's life. Franklin, already looking deeply disturbed by what's happening, hesitantly agrees.

Francis arrives. The operating table divides him from Franklin, Stanley and James — he is literally not on their side. All three men glare up at him as one: How is this maudlin MF going to make this horrible situation worse for us?

But while the three of them just stand there, Francis puts himself in charge. With a bit of help from McDonald, he takes hold of a distraught Silna and tries to explain what is happening, who they are, that they're not trying to do harm. It is in this moment that James becomes the only one on the opposite side of the table to step forward (to help Francis control the situation or at least to do something). He looks compelled to action but cannot act.

Okay... so here we see that maybe this guy isn't just Franklin's poodle (we saw a bit of that earlier in the episode - more on that later).

Meanwhile Franklin, as soon as Francis takes control, BUGGERS OFF. Of course this can be justified by him already having given his orders and no longer needing to be involved, but we know that a) he sneaks off when the situation is clearly fraught and Francis is clearly better suited to handle it, knowing Inuktitut among other things and b) he actually ends up hiding out in his cabin, freaking out while listening to the howls of the dying man. This is too strange, too awful for him. Not to mention: oh god, I'm stuck in the ice, I've just lost a lieutenant, I keep losing men, what are they going to think of me?

While Sir John is off having a lil meltdown.... James' eyes are firmly on Francis.

We don't even see him acknowledge his captain's departure.

But why is James there? The obvious answer is: to report back to Sir John, to make sure things don't get weird and that Francis doesn't do anything stupid on THEIR ship. After all, let's remember the last scene before this one where James is focused on Francis:

Here he was describing Francis as if he's got him pegged: he's a disappointed man, Sir John, he was no one's first choice etc etc.

I know what he is. Do you now, James?

(interesting framing the above scene, btw - James standing, active, Sir John focused on his creature comfort, the pipe, and questioning himself. James speaking in firm tones to his commander: "I will not allow..." — James is literally being reframed as a leader.)

Anyway, back to where we were.

While Goodsir sets about trying to remove the shot, we get a little glimpse of James: he looks frozen, uneasy, swaying in to stare at the wound (Oh Tobias, the actor that you are). Can we say flashbacks to the Chinese sniper? This must be seriously triggering for him. Something is shifting.

(Another aside: James is standing next to Stanley, the man who dug out the shot when he was hit by the sniper. That same man is now refusing to help. Hm.)

Next, Goodsir says: I can't save this man. Here something important happens: James and Francis share a look.

This is Francis, for the first time, acknowledging not just James still being in the bay at all — but that the two of them are in this moment together! Francis' eyes saying to James: I'm about to tell this woman her father is going to die and James acknowledging in return how awful that is. He presses his mouth, drops his eyes.

The little flash of connection doesn't last. When Silna starts to plead with her dying father, James once again reaches out across the table to Francis: what is she saying? But it's maybe too pushy, too "I need to be told what's going on" so Francis ignores him and it's McDonald who answers.

Next, Silna launches herself at her dying father. Here, once again, James tries to take an active role, to "help" by following Francis' cues on what to do.

James has been watching, learning, asking questions and now looks desperate to be part of the solution to this awful situation: to be in this with Francis. Look how similar their gestures are, how James looks to Francis for direction.

---

STOP - DOOM HAMMER TIME

The VERY first scene in which Francis and James become partners, take action together to keep something from happening, they effectively set in motion one of the biggest causes of their doom: Silna's father doesn't die as he should, Tuunbaq is not bound to anyone. Oh man. That's a whole other essay.

---

(Back to the scene....)

While they're wrestling with Silna, James, clearly emotional and upset by what is taking place, reaches out again, perhaps this time more sincerely: Look at me, Francis, I'm trying to help, at least tell me what's happening? This time Francis acknowledges him — actually SPEAKS to him for the first time.

In response, James looks particularly vulnerable and distraught.

Silna's father dies. We see how different James' reaction is to Francis'. Poor James. Maybe he wants a little bit more from Francis in that moment, one more shared look. Francis doesn't give it to him.

Aaaaaand here we are, it's almost over. Franklin swans in, the really bad, bloody stuff having already been dealt with. He re-asserts his command by giving an order to James to escort Silna off the ship. James… doesn't exactly spring into action. In fact, he doesn't even acknowledge the order verbally, unlike Stanley. What's going on in his head? What does he think about Francis in that moment?

Anyway, let's wrap up.

So much of this scene is about the shift in James’ perception of Francis. He suddenly sees a man who is hands-on, who can take charge, who doesn't walk away from a terrible and unusual situation, even when it's clear there's no good outcome. And of course he knows Sir John skipped off at first opportunity.

Francis, meanwhile, only briefly appears to acknowledge James —but only as far as we can see. Francis of course knows that James was there, that he stayed behind, that he tried to help, that he tried to understand.

This knowledge and this changed dynamic become apparent immediately, in the very next scene.

LOOK HOW THEY ARE FRAMED!!!

Sir John is already receding into the background. James and Francis sit — still opposite sides of a table but in essentially the same pose. They are partners, mirrors, leaning into each other. The few glances here, small as they are, are NOT at Sir John, but between James and Francis.

Anyway, here you go, that's me done. I fucking love this show.

[catiroll]

A Dance for Two °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Synopsis: When your daughter wants to attend the Daddy-Daughter Ball, Sevika reluctantly agrees to take her. What begins as a simple favor turns into something far more meaningful than either of you expected.

Warning: nothin rlly

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ The tiny bow on Mira’s dress had come undone again.

You knelt in front of her, fingers carefully retying it, making sure it was straight. She stood perfectly still, her small hands gripping the soft folds of her dress, eyes locked on your movements with unusual intensity. Normally, she would have been talking—about the colors, the music, the way her shoes made soft clicks against the floor—but tonight, she was quieter than usual.

You noticed.

You always noticed.

“There,” you said, adjusting the bow one last time before pulling back. “Perfect.”

Mira didn’t respond right away. She turned slightly, lifting her dress in her little fingers and watching how the fabric shimmered under the warm glow of the lanterns. You could see the wheels in her mind turning, but she hadn’t yet found the words she wanted.

Then, finally—softly, hesitantly—she asked, “Mama… do I get to go even if I don’t got a daddy?”

Your hands stilled.

It wasn’t the first time she had asked about fathers. It wasn’t even the first time she had noticed she didn’t have one. But it was the first time she had linked it to something she might be missing out on—something other kids had and she didn’t.

Your chest tightened, and you forced a small smile as you tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “Of course you get to go, sweetheart. You don’t need a daddy to dance.”

Mira nodded slowly, but her grip on her dress remained tight. “The other girls said their daddies are taking them.”

Your throat constricted.

Before you could say anything, she looked up at you, something hopeful flickering in her wide eyes. “Could Auntie Vik take me?”

You blinked, caught off guard.

Sevika.

It wasn’t that the idea was bad—far from it. It was just… unexpected.

Sevika didn’t do things like this. She wasn’t soft, wasn’t gentle—not in the ways most people would recognize. But Mira saw her differently.

You saw it too, sometimes.

Sevika was the one who let Mira sit on her shoulders to reach the top shelf. The one who wordlessly passed her a piece of whatever she was eating, even if Mira never asked. The one who grumbled endlessly about how ‘kids were too much trouble’—only to let Mira fall asleep curled up in her lap minutes later.

Maybe… just maybe, this could work.

“You want me to do what?”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Sevika stared at you from across the table, one brow arched, her metal fingers drumming against the worn wooden surface. You’d just finished explaining the situation, and judging by her expression, she was either irritated or amused. Maybe both.

“Take Mira to the Daddy-Daughter Ball,” you repeated, this time a little slower, as if that would somehow make it sound like less of a ridiculous request.

Sevika let out a dry, humorless laugh. “You do realize I don’t fit either of those words, right?”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “You’re not an idiot, Sev. You know that’s not what this is about.”

She leaned back, exhaling through her nose. “Kid needs a dance partner? Take her yourself.”

“She doesn’t want that.” You hesitated. “She wants you.”

That got her.

Her fingers stilled against the table. Her jaw clenched—just slightly—but enough for you to notice.

“I don’t know how to do this shit,” she muttered, looking away. “Dancing. Balls. Dressing up like some… proper person.”

You took a step closer, lowering your voice. “She doesn’t care about any of that. She just wants someone who makes her feel safe.”

Sevika scoffed, shaking her head, but you saw the tension in her shoulders, the flicker of something you couldn’t quite place in her eyes.

“You’re good with her, Sev,” you continued, softer this time. “Better than you think.”

Silence.

Then, finally, a long exhale.

“Fine,” she muttered, rubbing her temple like she was already regretting it. “But you owe me.”

A slow grin spread across your lips as you reached up, fingers lightly brushing her jaw. “Oh, I’ll make it up to you.”

She shot you a look, but there was something warmer in her expression now, something less guarded.

She was going to do it.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ When Sevika arrived at the door that evening, Mira gasped so dramatically you thought she might faint.

“Auntie Vik!” she squealed, practically vibrating with excitement. “You look so pretty!”

Sevika grimaced.

She stood stiffly, dressed in a deep navy vest over a crisp black shirt, looking like she had been physically forced into it. Her usual rough edges hadn’t disappeared—the scars on her hands, the imposing metal arm, the ever-present air of someone who had seen too much—but there was something undeniably striking about her like this.

Sevika scowled, shifting uncomfortably under your gaze. “Don’t start.”

You only smiled, stepping forward to adjust her tie, fingers lingering just a second too long. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She held your gaze for a beat longer than necessary before clearing her throat and looking away.

Mira grabbed her much larger hand and started tugging her toward the door. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late!”

Sevika sent you a desperate, help me look.

You just waved. “Have fun!”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ The ball was something out of a storybook—glittering chandeliers, soft melodies, rows of little girls spinning in their dresses.

Mira fit right in.

Sevika… not so much.

She was stiff at first, clearly uncomfortable under the warm glow of the ballroom. But Mira didn’t seem to notice. She grabbed Sevika’s hands, practically dragging her onto the dance floor, and demanded to be twirled.

And—surprisingly—Sevika did.

Not gracefully, not skillfully, but in a way that made Mira laugh, bright and loud and full. Sevika let her stand on her feet to waltz, rolling her eyes but not pushing her away. When the music shifted to something livelier, Mira pulled her toward the other children, insisting Sevika had to play tag.

And she did.

She let Mira sit on her shoulders to ‘catch’ the other kids, smirked when she won, and even—reluctantly—let her place a tiny, flower-shaped sticker on her metal arm as a ‘prize.’

It was a perfect night.

But then, near the end of the evening, as the last slow dance played, Mira—sleepy, warm, and utterly content—rested her head against Sevika’s shoulder and murmured, “I wish you were my daddy.”

Sevika froze.

Your breath caught.

Mira didn’t say it with sadness. There was no longing in her voice, no ache for something she felt she was missing. It was just a statement. Simple. Honest.

Sevika swallowed hard.

She could’ve brushed it off. Could’ve ignored it, changed the subject, made a joke.

But she didn’t.

Instead, after a long pause, she murmured back, “You don’t need a daddy, kid. You’ve got your mom.” A beat of hesitation. “And you’ve got me.”

Mira didn’t say anything else. Just snuggled in a little closer.

And Sevika held her a little tighter.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ When they arrived home, Mira was fast asleep in Sevika’s arms.

You expected her to pass the little girl off and leave. Instead, she carried Mira inside, walking straight to her room and tucking her in without a word.

When she turned back to you, there was something in her eyes—something raw, something hesitant.

“She called me her dad,” Sevika said, voice gruff, but there was something thick in it, something heavy. “Can you believe that?”

You smiled softly, reaching up to touch her cheek. “She loves you.”

Sevika exhaled sharply. “She’s a little brat.” But her voice cracked, just slightly.

You kissed her.

And when you whispered, “Stay?”

She hesitated.

Then—finally—she sighed and muttered, “Yeah. Okay.”

And just like that, she was home.

Masterlist

A/N: i havent made one in so long my bad sorry yall but here we go we got sevika with a duaghter cuz lowkey i can never see her with a son. have a good day wherever u aree

[unoriginalcontent]

Been thinking a bit about this post; I do believe that to empathize with Trump voters, at least on an intellectual level, is important for purely pragmatic reasons. The idea there is that the right wing propaganda machine is a menace that no one knows how to deal with, and so if we can understand the concerns and anxieties of the conservative voter, we might have an opportunity to demonstrate how Trump is tangibly not addressing their problems and turn them against him. And hell, even if they did vote for him out of bigotry, maybe they'll still be willing to turn on him out of self-interest. However much it sucks, many of these people will not care if you simply point out that his policies harm other people. They've already set the human cost aside as acceptable losses, or else they outright support harming these people, which is why a different strategy is necessary for them. If we can get conservatives to turn on Trump, then even if it's not for the right and morally-correct reasons, that's still a win.

Of course that's all in reference to conservatives who were probably already predisposed towards whoever has an R next to their name on the ballot. When it comes to leftists who refuse to associate with democrats out of protest, I just don't know. I can understand that someone might want to vote out of self-interest and also believe that a Trump presidency is beneficial to them. Obviously they're likely to be wrong, but it's not hypocritical to have believed a lie and acted accordingly. Conversely, I think most leftists are people who will claim that government and voting shouldn't just be about self-interest, and that helping other people is a worthy end unto itself. And yeah, they should have known better.

If you're educated enough on the issues to have known all of Harris's shortcomings, how the hell do you not also know Trump's? If you know them both, how the hell can you conflate the two as equally bad?

We have this idea in the left that our systems are bad, and therefore we can never make progress until we destroy the systems entirely and build something new from the ashes. If you believe that, then please get your head out of the clouds because that's what Trump and Musk are trying to give us, and it turns out to be bad. We live in the system, we depend on the system, if we didn't then it wouldn't matter how many federal programs Trump is trying to abolish. Even if you specifically will be fine, you're writing everyone else off as an acceptable loss. It's not wrong to imagine and strive for a better world than this one, but unless you have viable alternatives ready and waiting, you won't get there by breaking things.

Maybe it's unfair to blame the current situation on people on the left who didn't vote for Harris. I don't even know how much blame matters at this point. And yet I think this is an important thing for all of us to keep in mind. Your moral clarity can be used against you. No matter how good and pure your ideals are, the real world has to come first. And right now that means acknowledging that a huge portion of our democracy chose Trump. And they don't care if you're hurt from his policies, or if I'm hurt, for a lot of these voters your suffering is probably just sugar on top. OP is absolutely right, they probably don't regret wishing leopards onto other people, but that doesn't mean it's not worth convincing them that we should stop the leopards before their faces are eaten. People are going to be poisoned by food which they voted to deregulate, and a part of me wants to think of that as justice. I feel angry. I feel spiteful. These people are taking human rights violations and touting them as victories, fuck them. But anger and spite won't fix anything, even from our side. And no matter how awful some of these people might be, together they're a hell of a voting block. I wish that I could force people to care about the suffering of others, but I can't. And so I hope that it's possible to at least get them to care about themselves.

And if you do think of yourself as progressive, and you still refused to vote for Harris, then I think OP is right, and you really do take a look at yourself. It is true that many of our problems are created and perpetuated by larger institutions beyond our control, but when it comes to democracy, it's not enough blame the system. You're a part of the system. If you don't want to participate, you need to have an alternative that is—crucially—viable, actionable, and realistic in the immediate short term. If you don't have that, which I guarantee you don't, then high-stakes elections are not the time for moral grandstanding.

Sorry for rambling here on your post, I'm probably a bit scattered. I've been having a lot of discussions with people about this sort of thing lately. Whatever strategy the left has for winning hearts and minds, it clearly hasn't worked if someone like that can still win the popular vote. I don't know how to fix that. But I think we all need to be a lot more comfortable ceding the moral high ground if it means making progress in the trenches.

Trump voters owe me financial compensation.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Chapter 29: Ghosts of the Past

Rating: Teen Audiences

Warnings: Protective!Paige, Azzi, Ice, Mentions of Y/N’s Ex, Panic Attacks

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x !Photographer Fem Reader

Fandom: Women’s Basketball

Summary: Why now...

Welcome to the chapter 29 of Through The Lens. I hope you all enjoy and there is more to come...stay tuned my loveies!! 🏀💕📸

Shopping trips with the team were always filled with laughter, banter, and an unrelenting amount of teasing. It was one of those things that felt like a welcome distraction from everything else. Today was no different. Paige, Azzi, Ice, and I were in our usual group, having fun as we made our way through the aisles. The others had split off to check out a sneaker store just a few blocks down, leaving the four of us to do a little damage in a nearby boutique.

"Are you seriously trying to convince me that green looks good on everyone?" Azzi asked, holding up a neon green hoodie, her expression a mix of disbelief and amusement.

I snorted, glancing over at Paige, who was smirking at me. "I’m just saying," Paige teased. "Some of us can pull it off better than others."

"You mean like you?" Ice chimed in, causing Paige to give a dramatic shrug.

"Obviously," Paige responded, looking pleased with herself.

Azzi rolled her eyes. "Let’s get this over with before Paige starts modeling for us."

The lighthearted atmosphere filled the space, and for a moment, I felt the weight of the past few weeks lift. Between school, practice, and my constant juggling act, I hadn’t realized how much I needed this—just the simple joy of being with people I cared about.

But then, as I turned a corner of the store, the world seemed to freeze. My heart stuttered in my chest.

Standing just a few feet away, browsing through a rack of jackets, was someone I thought I’d never have to see again. My ex.

I froze, the blood draining from my face. The warmth that had settled in me moments ago disappeared in an instant, replaced by a cold, creeping fear that settled deep in my bones.

Paige’s voice broke through my panic. "Y/N?" she asked softly, stepping closer. I couldn’t bring myself to look at her, my eyes locked on the figure in front of me. I could feel my hands begin to shake as memories from that toxic relationship flooded my mind. The manipulation, the gaslighting, the verbal jabs—everything that once felt suffocating was suddenly there, fresh and painful.

"Why are you back here?" I muttered under my breath, my voice unsteady. I could barely even hear it over the roar of my heartbeat.

Azzi, noticing my sudden shift in energy, stepped up to my other side. "Who’s this?" she asked, her voice sharp with suspicion.

Before I could answer, the guy turned, his eyes locking with mine. "Y/N? Wow, I didn’t expect to see you here!" He said, his tone too casual, too comfortable for someone who had hurt me so badly.

Azzi's arms crossed as she shot a glare at him. "Who’s this?" she repeated, her voice laced with protectiveness.

"I’m her ex," the guy replied, his eyes flicking between Azzi and Paige. He was trying to figure out the situation. "We dated her freshman year."

I felt my knees go weak as the walls I had built so carefully around my past began to crumble. Paige immediately noticed the change in me, her hand instinctively finding mine and giving it a gentle squeeze. "You okay?" she whispered, her voice quiet but firm.

I couldn’t answer. My breath was coming in short bursts, my chest tight with anxiety. My ex’s presence alone was enough to send me spiraling.

Azzi’s voice was sharp and commanding as she addressed him. "Maybe you should leave."

"What? I’m not doing anything wrong," he protested, raising his hands in mock surrender.

"You’re making her uncomfortable," Paige said, her voice steely and authoritative.

His gaze flicked to me, and I could see the confusion on his face. "I just wanted to say hi."

"Hi, and now bye," Ice’s voice rang out from behind us, her words leaving no room for argument.

Azzi and Ice stood like a wall between me and my ex, their eyes fixed on him with a glare that would make anyone back off. In a matter of seconds, they had him out of the store, leaving me surrounded by the people who would always have my back.

I was still trembling, my breath uneven as I tried to regain control of my racing heart. Paige stepped closer, her hands cupping my face, her touch gentle yet firm. "Hey, hey," she whispered softly. "Look at me."

I couldn’t help it—tears welled in my eyes. I didn’t want to cry. Not here, not now, but everything came flooding back. "I... I didn’t want to see him again, Paige," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Why now? Why here?"

Paige’s hands rubbed comforting circles on my arms as she leaned her forehead against mine. "You’re safe now, Y/N. He can’t hurt you anymore." Her words were calm, soothing, like a balm on the wounds I didn’t even realize were still raw.

"I’m sorry," I whispered, the tears breaking free.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Paige said gently, brushing away the tear that had slipped down my cheek. "You’ve been through a lot, and you don’t owe him or anyone anything."

The rest of the team returned, the air filled with quiet tension. Ice, Azzi, and KK had made sure my ex was gone, but the damage lingered in the pit of my stomach. KK was the first to speak up. "What happened?" Her voice was laced with concern.

"Her ex showed up," Ice muttered, her tone sharp. "Total creep."

Paige wrapped her arm around me, pulling me close. "We’re going back to my dorm," she said firmly, her protective instincts flaring. "We’ll figure this out there."

At the dorm, things felt a little calmer, though my nerves were still shot. I sat curled up on Paige’s bed, a blanket draped around my shoulders, sipping on a cup of tea she had made for me. I didn’t want to talk about it—not yet. The memories were still too fresh, too painful.

Paige sat beside me, her presence calming, her fingers gently lacing through mine. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly, her voice quiet, giving me the space I needed.

I shook my head. "Not right now. But…thank you. For everything."

"You don’t have to thank me," Paige murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "I’ll always protect you."

I leaned into her, letting her warmth and comfort settle me. "I know," I whispered. "I know."

Later that night, after I had finally managed to sleep, the nightmares came.

I woke up, my body drenched in sweat, my heart pounding as though I was back in that dark, toxic relationship. I gasped for air, feeling trapped in a nightmare I couldn’t escape. The panic rose in my chest, my breath coming in quick, shallow bursts.

I tried to calm myself down, but the images were still there, haunting me—his face, the way he used to make me feel like I wasn’t good enough, that I was nothing.

But then, suddenly, a pair of warm hands cupped my face. Paige was there, her voice soft and steady as she whispered, "Hey, look at me. You’re safe."

I turned into her, the tears falling freely now. "I can’t breathe, Paige. I can’t—"

"Shh," Paige soothed, her hands running down my back as she gently rocked me. "Just breathe with me, okay? Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth."

I followed her lead, focusing on her voice, her presence, the way she always seemed to ground me when everything else fell apart.

"I’ve got you," she whispered. "You’re safe. You’re here with me, and no one can hurt you. Not anymore."

Slowly, I felt my breathing steady, the panic that had gripped me loosening its hold.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice still shaky. "I’m sorry for waking you."

Paige smiled softly, her thumb brushing across my cheek. "Don’t apologize, baby. I’ll always be here for you, Y/N. Always."

I snuggled closer to her, my heart finally beginning to settle. "I’m lucky to have you," I whispered, the words barely escaping my lips as I drifted back into a peaceful sleep, surrounded by the warmth of the girl who would always protect me.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

Tag list: @sayurireidotcom , @astroeliza , @paxaz535 , @0phantom0 , @starlighttsv , @authentic-girl03 , @elalfywhore , @elalfywhore .... (more to be added)

[blacknedsoul-blog]

Social climbers and the relationship with power: Ada's tragedy

You buddies don't dimension how much I raised my eyebrows when I saw this scene:

Ada climbing on top of a deer (a very typical symbolic representation of noble masculinity) who is trying to fiercely shake her off while she desperately clings to him with all her might...

And is THAT what makes her have a flashback of her relationship with Tamerline? Buddy, I'm putting on a hat to take it off.

Anyway, this means I have enough material to talk about Ada.

Social climbers and power

Ada is, apparently, a social climber: she longs for a social space to which she feels she is entitled, but to which she considers herself not to belong. This is something that can give us clues about her socio-economic situation in life: social climbers are extremely common in spaces such as, for example, the child of a first generation of professionals or of parents who have been able to provide better economic passages despite not belonging to social elites.

So, one thing to be clear about the way Ada relates to people in general is through this lens: the way she tries to move up socially (i.e. to power) is through her relationships with people, if she is close to a person who has power or belongs to an elite, then she is accessing these spaces. If that person does not have it, then she uses the relationship to reassert the position she wants to have.

Ada's personal tragedy is that this way of relating to the world puts her in an extremely vulnerable position with respect to her interpersonal relationships because, if they were not asymmetrical from the beginning, she makes them asymmetrical. It's as true that Ada gets into complicated relationships willingly as it is that she is a victim of people like Tamerlane. You know, the same logic of tragedies.

So let me do a little review of all the relationships Ada has had in the comic, how they go and what is the pattern they follow.

The triad of discord

There are three things that all of Ada's relationships have in common (except one, but we'll get to that): 1) She seeks to get some sort of validation from the other person. 2) She tends to push the person's boundaries, even if they were explicitly stated. 3) Even if the person has some degree of affection or sympathy for her, Ada will never be her priority over other things. Be these things other people, personal desires, etc, etc.

So let's review this a bit.

Let's start with the bastard of Thomas Tamerline. If anything their interaction during chapter 110 makes clear to us is that the guy is quite explicit with the fact that this relationship is purely sex for him (and he possibly enjoys the degree of control he exerts over her), Ada repeatedly tries to get some validation or affection from him and the guy barely complies with the bare minimum.

That he ends up murdering her indicates that, regardless of motive, he sees her as an inconvenience to his personal desires that must be gotten out of the way and, as the icing on the cake, puts the responsibility on her.

Now on to Prospero. His resemblance to Thomas is obvious enough to understand why Ada would be attracted to him and constantly seeks to touch him or be near him, no matter how much Prospero tells her that he is not interested in her. This is an attitude she has even before Annabel encourages her by saying that “Prospero is just being shy”.

Eventually it happens what it does: Prospero is fed up with her and doesn't hesitate to tell her so to her face. We can argue whether or not he's justified in being this cruel, but by the standards of this argument that's irrelevant: the important thing here is that Prospero doesn't care about Ada's feelings enough to be nicer.

Let's go now to Lenore. Ada is extremely mean to her until Lenore demonstrates that she was able to pass the maze test on her own. This is, in Ada's eyes, a demonstration of power and she, as she is wont to do, will not pass up the opportunity to get on the good side of a person who could be a potential rising star.

This is cut short by her same group, but they reconnect at the mansion trial. Since Lenore is not interested in relating on power terms (for better and for worse), here they have the opportunity to share on more equal terms on both their parts. Yes, Lenore is also doing this for personal reasons, but it doesn't take away from the merit.

Ada ends up overstepping boundaries and betraying Lenore at the end of the trial. And after she learns of her Ada's involvement in Duke's kidnapping, well, all she has to say when Pluto fills her in is says that shitty relationship is strangely appropriate.

Yes, Lenore may have come to have some degree of affection for her, but Ada is no more important than her friends and after getting into something like that, to hell with her.

With Annabel things start to get more interesting. These two have a cocktail of projection and resentment between them: Annabel is all Ada wants, so she treats her like a pretty accessory that gives her status (something that definitely oversteps Annabel's boundaries, even if she hasn't expressed them because it doesn't suit her) and, to Annabel, Ada is little more than an important piece she can take advantage of.

This take it with a grain of salt because there are some “buts.”

On Ada's side, that she seeks help from Annabel when Montresor is being a fucking psycho is an indicator that she felt, at least, protected by Annabel. But as is often the case with her, the plan Annabel is carrying out is no more important than Ada, she just lets it happen.

Twice. Under the circumstances, Annabel chooses to help Prospero over Ada.

However, Ada is not indifferent to Annabel: she is definitely furious with Montresor after what he did (In fact, this is the only scene so far where we have seen Annabel exercising any form of physical aggression)., she is uncomfortable when Prospero is mean to Ada, and there are a few small frames where she looks at her with sincere pity.

But again, that won't make Annabel prioritize her over her own plans.

Finally, we come to the most interesting relationship here.

Ada definitely cares about Morella, but that won't make constantly denigrating her a reaffirmation of the position she believes (or wants) to have: making comments like Morella's food “is poor.” Ada pecks at the boundaries with a stick, yet these things -for some reason- don't seem to bother Morella, who is able to see the good in her despite her bad attitudes. Until she stops doing it because not only participating in Duke's kidnapping, but also trying to play cool by making excuses is out of bounds even for Morella.

But an interesting thing happens here too, remember how Ada is never a priority for anyone? Well, for a moment in her relationship with Morella it looks like this is going to be different. Morella makes a feeble attempt to defend her when Montresor makes her bark and puts a shield in her face when Prospero attacks her in the mansion trial.

Unfortunately for Ada, Morella is someone too lacking in backbone and too concerned with following the rules to stand up for her when it really counts.

After Ada manifests and bursts into tears, she pushes Morella away from her with a shove.

Morella says she wants to help, but all it takes is for Poppet to remind her that she needs to get back the Merits she lost for Morella to finally give in.

The two people Ada considered her friends have left her: Annabel has chosen to help Prospero and Morella has left.

That's when Montresor enters.

And here begins the first break in Ada's toxic pattern of relationships...but not for the better.

Ada and Montresor

Oddly enough, these two are a good match...for horrible reasons. Montresor, like Ada, is a social climber who uses interpersonal relationships to get closer to power, only in a different way: where Ada sticks it to people who hold power, Montresor uses others to reassert himself in a position of power. So, Ada feeds Montresor's ego, while he can pretend to like her enough to keep Ada happy.

Because yes, Ada and Montresor's relationship fulfills most of the bad patterns in relationships that Ada usually has: she seeks validation in this relationship and Montresor definitely doesn't prioritize her (she constantly has to compete with Will for Montresor's attention, for example). But the important thing here is that, for once, Ada isn't the one constantly pecking at the other person's boundaries: it's Montresor who does it.

He pushes her around, teases her, calls her by other women's names, and it's probably only a matter of time before this starts to get worse. What's interesting is that Ada is able to get upset when this happens, unlike what we see in the flashback to her relationship with Thomas.

So there is something changing here.

Conclusion

I'm not sure where this is going to lead, but one thing is for sure: Montresor is a reflection of a toxic pattern of behavior that Ada has in her relationships and if she's starting to get uncomfortable with it, it's not just because the abyss is staring back at her, but because she's getting herself into a situation too similar to her relationship with Thomas to not know how it might end.

Add to that this:

This is the first time in the comic that Ada has had such a selfless gesture for another person. And that selfless gesture is something as big as putting herself in danger to save someone. As if all this wasn't enough, it's been to save Annabel: one of the two friends who turned their backs on her when she needed them.

I don't know if this will be the start of her character development or we should interpret it as deathflags placed over her head, but one thing is for sure: whatever is going to come out of here has quite a bit of potential.

[cyberhughes]

Could I please get a rum & coke? #17 with Connor Bedard

cyberhughes 200 follower special ⋆ .˚

rum & coke coming up!!

prompt #17: "i can't get you out of my head."

warnings: breakups, angst angst angst

fuck sorry this one kinda hurt i think im projecting w this one guys LOL (god help me.)

prompt list

connor bedard was the love of your life.

was.

officially, you had been with him for two years, but you knew him longer than that. the two of you sharing a bond stronger than anything throughout your childhood.

it had been one year since the end of said relationship, one year since he had left you crying in front of your apartment as he walked away with your heart, and one year since you had lost your best friend and lover in one fell swoop, your twin flame.

you grieved like never before. it was almost worse than grieving someone who was dead, because he was still out there, keeping your heart captive.

you couldn't even remember what the first few weeks after the breakup were like. you had locked yourself away in your apartment, letting your entire being be consumed by sorrow.

it truly came out of nowhere, the two of you were happy. or at least, you thought you were.

"connor, what are you talking about?" your smile faltered as he stood in front of you, hands in his pockets while he stared at you with that emotionless expression he always had. "it's just not working." his words rang in your ears and you could feel the reality settle in.

your lips moved to speak but shut just as quickly. you didn't know what to say, how could you? the two of you just worked, he was your soulmate and you were his. he had seen every part of you, felt every part of you, taken every part of you. you gave him your everything,

so what the hell wasn't working?

that's the question that you had destroyed yourself over for the past year. when connor left you, he had taken a piece of your soul with him, and you weren't sure if you'd ever get it back. and so, you'd spend the rest of your life yearning for that piece, yearning for him.

while you were together he was always on your mind of course, but now it felt as if he had taken over you, your thoughts consumed by nothing more than him. you could only think of the sound of his comforting voice, which was now starting to fade away. you could only think of the way his smile could make your heart melt in an instant. you could only think of the way his lips molded to yours as he kissed you. it was like he had left a poison in you when he left, ensuring that he would be the only one you'd ever love.

it wasn't healthy, is what your friends told you. it wasn't healthy to still be hung up on your ex boyfriend after a whole year. but he was more than that, he was your partner, in every sense of the word. you had gone through everything with him, been there for him when no one else was.

now the only thing you were going through was his instagram, scrolling the feed that had already been graced by that little red heart. he was doing good, better than good. maybe you were holding him back, not allowing him to shine as bright as he could. that's all you ever wanted for him, so why couldn't you accept this?

you found yourself going through old photos and texts, not having deleted his number even after a year. soon you found your thumb hovering over his name in your contacts, your mind daring you to call him.

and so you did.

it rang once.

then it rang twice.

and just as it was about to ring that third time, as you were about to hang up knowing he'd never respond, you heard his voice.

"hello?" he spoke softly and you felt your whole body tense as you heard the voice that you once sought out for comfort. sure, you had put yourself in this situation, but you didn't think he would actually pick up.

your breath was shaky as you spoke, "i can't..." your voice cracked, and you were glad he couldn't see you in this pathetic state.

"y/n?"

"i can't get you out of my head." your voice was barely above a whisper, yet he caught every single word.

"it's been a year." he spoke sternly, as if you didn't recognize that, and suddenly it felt like you were being transported right back to that night where he had first broken your heart.

your eyes welled with tears as you heard him sigh over the phone, did he not miss you the way you missed him?

"why did you end it?" you asked, feeling your heartrate increase, you shouldn't have called him like this.

"y/n why are you-"

"tell me." you pleaded as the tears fell down onto your cheeks. a lifetime ago he would've been the one to wipe them away, telling you he'd never let anything hurt you, but he ended up being the one to.

the other end went silent for a moment before he spoke, "i didn't love you anymore."

you felt your heart drop deeper than it ever had, never expecting him to answer in such a way. "why? did i do something wrong?" you didn't know why you bothered asking, he didn't give you a reason then, and he probably wouldn't now.

"i had more important things to focus on." he rubbed salt in the wound, as if you were never important to him. as if you weren't the first name he'd call for whenever something happened to him, as if you weren't the one to carry his weight when he felt like he couldn't continue, as if you weren't the one who kept the flame of his soul alight. he didn't care as much as you did, he never did.

and so you hung up.

call ended.

connor looked down at his phone, "fuck." his lip quivered as he tried to hold it together.

you were always the most important thing to him, and that's why he had to let you go. he didn't want to tie you down, a ball and chain keeping you from pursuing your own dreams as you followed him around the nhl.

he knew you'd be alright eventually, and he knew that you’d find someone who could give you all their love in ways he couldn’t. after all he knew you better than you knew yourself.

and that's why he selfishly kept a piece of your heart, because he never truly wanted to let you go.

[undeadslayerr]

I think I get what you mean. I guess since I don't really experience transphobia in the way that people would attack me on the street for looking gnc or trans, I'd rather assume transphobia is less pervasive. This example you gave makes me really understand the whole point better.

those who stay silent are complicit in transphobia, even if they gender us correctly and are generally polite to us.

I guess since most people just don't have much of an opinion about trans issues at all, I'd assume they aren't transphobic. You're right that it may be the opposite.

Society itself is definitely transphobic, and is for sure constructed in a misogynistic and transphobic way. And because of it, I agree that a lot of people are definitely made to be transphobic. But I'm of the opinion that if detached from that influence, most people wouldn't really mind anyone trans. I guess that doesn't make them not transphobic per se.

I'm gonna go on a more personal tangent now to explain my perspective a bit more. You don't have to read it if you dgaf lol, it really doesn't matter much.

For example, I had a doctor appointment very recently. I outed myself as trans to the doctor. Basically the situation was:

I was there under my deadname to make everything medical easier. During the medical exam she noticed excessive body hair and asked if I'm under a doctor's care regarding any hormone imbalances, since it looks like I could have excessive testosterone. I sheepishly explained that it's intended, because I'm trans and taking testosterone.

She wasn't grossed out or rude or anything. She asked for my chosen name and referred to me by it. She switched my pronouns when she was speaking halfway through the visit. She congratulated me, said I look masculine and HRT is clearly working, and said she's happy people today can be who they wanna be.

At first she had trouble referring to me by the correct pronouns, but she corrected herself very quickly. I bet she must have some transphobic worldviews. Maybe she was, at some point, transphobic to someone else. But I don't think any of that is malicious. I think she doesn't want to be transphobic. Maybe even as much as me, who's actually a part of the trans community. I think she's uneducated and clueless about the stuff that just doesn't affect her as much.

And I think, because of that, I'd rather just not assume transphobia. I think I'll still approach people with the mindset of "not transphobic until proven otherwise", just for my own peace of mind I guess. I feel like people who are not transphobic can be educated, while transphobes don't even hear you out.

I think you're right though, in the way that transphobia is much more varied and prevalent than just physical violence in the streets. And a lot of people, including myself, can still hold transphobic worldviews they were taught, and just overall be transphobic, even if unintended. I think the problem I have with this, is how unclear it really all is in practice. Sexism, racism, transphobia and homophobia often intersect, not mentioning the fact that some people are just bigots for sport. At what point does being uneducated stop and being malicious start?

Overall it's a complex issue and I appreciate the explanation!! I know, despite the fact that I'm trans, I don't really know everything about trans issues, so I see a lot of value in dialogues like this. :))

why do people assume celebrities are not transphobic by default? we live in a deeply transphobic world. many of the "basic facts about the world" we are taught as children are fully transphobic lies. i don't get why, when people like a celebrity, they write a little fictional biography in their head about how they're probably not transphobic (despite the fact that, mathematically, most people totally transphobic, especially people of class celebrities belong to). like why? why just assume that people in this deeply transphobic world are progressive trans allies by default without any kind of evidence?

[damnfeelings09]

Valentine's day countdown: First date - Shadow the Hedghog

Pairing: Shadow the hedghog x female reader Tags: fluff, comfort, awkward crush. Word count: 750. Prompt: you and Shadow have been friends for a while, and although he has a massive crush on you and is dying to have you as more than a friend he's not willing to take that step (secretly he's very insecure okay) after a little encouragement from Sonic he asked you out he never imagined how it would end. Notes: First valentine's day prompt and what better way to start it than with my eternal love Shadow. I'm love/romance depraved so these promts will be fluff in its cheesiest and purest form (like melting chocolate in a super sweet cotton candy ice cream with a Cherry on top kind of sickeningly sweet) This time I'll try a different style so let me know if you like it.

Shadow wasn't afraid of anything. He was the ultimate lifeform after all, then… why did his pulse quicken every time he was near you? Why did he feel his palms get wet each time you smiled at him? Why did his fight or flight response activated every time you were there?

Shadow wasn't afraid of anything. But maybe, maybe he was afraid of what he felt for you, afraid that he would become addicted to the feeling of you caressing his cheek, afraid that he couldn't go on without seeing the sparkle in your eyes every day, afraid of getting used to the warmth of your hand on his, afraid that if he said a word of what he felt he would lose you, because let's be honest, who could love a monster like him?

He was unsure, and every time that happened he went to Rouge, however the bat was not at home, so he went to his second best worst option. Sonic

Sonic with his usual cocky grin as Shadow explained the situation. Sonic, the same Sonic that he punched every chance he got just to release some stress and because he enjoyed it, the same Sonic that screwed up time and time again running away from Amy was the one that Shadow had decided to approach for romantic advice.

“Just don't think too much about it Shads” Sonic had said ”She likes you, trust me”

“Easier said than done”

“Well, it's either that or you'll be stuck with ' what could’ve been' forever.”

Honestly, Sonic hadn't been much help, but at least he had planted the seed of doubt in Shadow. What would be the worst that could happen if he kept his feelings to himself? You would probably find someone, that someone would take your hand, receive your caresses, taste your lips and you would forget about him, leaving him aside, alone, unloved.

No. Shadow wouldn't let that happen, the little bit of love he got from you was too addictive and he wasn't about to let anyone else have it. He had made up his mind and although the chances of you feeling the same were low they still weren't 0. He still had no idea how he managed to do it, well maybe he had a little idea. He knew he had walked you home, he knew he had said a few embarrassing things as you walked together making you laugh, what he didn't know was where he had gotten the courage to ask you out when you were about to enter your house.

“See you tomorrow Shadow,” you said waving goodbye to him.

“Wait” he said almost in a whisper. You turned, shaking your head to the side “I... ah...” he scratched his head.

“Is everything okay?”

“I wanted to... I wanted to ask you out.”

“Sure! You know I love going out with you Shadow”

“As... in a date”

“Oh...” oh? What did that mean, it wasn't the yes he was expecting but it wasn't a denial either, it was as if he had surprised you, as if you didn't imagine he could have feelings for-

“I'd love to” you cut off his thought bringing him back to earth. The smile on your face showed shyness but the pink blush on your cheeks and the loud thumping of your heart confirmed to Shadow that his feelings were reciprocated. “I... I'd like you for a while, just didn't know of you might... like me too” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear meeting your gaze with Shadow's causing him to blush. If this were a cartoon his eyes would have turned into hearts and little blue birds would fly around his head.

“I've been feeling like this for a while too, just...”

“It’s okay” you smiled “I'll see you tomorrow for our date” you walked up to him and deposited a kiss on his cheek, waving your fingers in a goodbye motion and closing the door behind you. Little did he know that you slid down the door frame, hand on your heart triyng to stop the rush in your body.

Shadow stood outside your door, his hand holding the very spot where your lips had touched his cheek trying to capture the warmth of your touch, his stomach felt funny as if something was churning inside him just remembering your kiss. It was then that he realized that maybe allowing himself to be happy wasn't such a bad thing.

[mscherub]

Operation: Kiss the Prefect

Azul Ashengrotto x Reader (Valentine’s Day Special <3)

Reader is gender neutral, referred to as Prefect, Y/N, or Shrimpy(by Floyd)

Tags: Fluff, romance, based off the boat scene in The Little Mermaid, funny

Warnings: Mentions of things in book 3; slight spoilers, spelling mistakes are very likely!

Blurb: Samuel(My Twisted ver. Of Sebastian) and Finn(My Twisted ver. Of Flounder) make up a plan, also including Sully(My Twisted ver. Of Scuttle), to get you and Azul together finally. Things happen and the Tweels find out. Based off the infamous boat scene and song “Kiss the Girl,” in The Little Mermaid :)

Azul is calculated, strong witted in every situation that he could possibly think of, a good trait to have, especially from where he originates. He was prepared with rebuttals and convincing phrases that got any poor unfortunate souls to bend to his whim and agree to his words, which, were always often fabricated, of course for the betterment of his business, don’t you know? Although, he overworks himself, and he rarely pays attention to other things in his life, just business, business, business, and more business, always focusing on it.

And honestly, this just ticked off two of the first year dorm members of Octavinelle. It really did! They watched their Housewarden sketch away at his contracts and focusing solely on money, and they know if they don’t give him a little push then he’ll only know his work for the rest of his life. A little push for what exactly? Well, it’s just so painfully obvious how much Azul likes you, the Prefect. It’s so easy to tell, yet he’s using his work as a distraction to hide his true feelings it seems.

They watch how he stumbles over his words when you talk to him willingly at any given time, fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves as he nods along to your words. Of course he tries to plays this off, being all smug about certain topics if he’s well off in them, but the two students could see his inner turmoil, his reluctance to get closer.

Valentine’s Day was right around the corner, so this is the perfect time for Samuel and Finn to put their plan into action. They knew that you, too, also had the hots for Azul (Info heard from Grim who complained loudly after finding out). Sure he tried to rob you of your home, but that was in the past. He mentions you at least once everyday around the dorm, it’s different, especially with how he acts! They’ll use this to their advantage, after all, they did learn from the best.

Now, time to initiate mission: “Kiss the Prefect!” Well, try to, anyways.

Finn sits in Sameuls dorm room on his bed, watching as he writes down key points and factors on a whiteboard, the marker squeaking with each stroke. Samuel pauses and takes a step back, reading over the board before he shakes his head and erases his thoughts away once again

”Give me an idea…something not too cheesy, also something we can trick Azul into.” He sighs as he taps his foot.

Finn scoffs and he lays back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. “Yea…tricking him? He can see right through anything…also, I don’t know about this plan anymore.” He sits up and he leans back on his hands.

“What if it turns around on us and bites us in the ass like a piranha?” He sighs.

Samuel quirks an eyebrow and he sets his marker down and crosses his arms. “Look, this’d be the perfect thing for us to do. Don’t doubt it. It’s for Azul’s own good, more so ours, but that’s besides the point.”

“You know he’ll go against it if he finds out—“

“He won’t! Finn, we’ll make this plan impossible for him to decipher…the motto of our dorm is to help those who seem in distress…or something like that, whatever— we just need to think a little longer about it is all.” Samuel grabs his marker again and puts down a bullet point. “Give me a few ideas here…”

Finn purses his lips and he looks around the room as he takes the whole thing into consideration. “Ok…how about a boat ride? We tell Azul about the freshman marine biology course Crewel has us going through currently, and that if he helped out the Prefect it’d be a good way to get them indebted to him…is what I would say if Azul would actually consider the idea. There’s no way to get him to get close to the prefect on his own—”

“Ok, no…no, no, no, hold that thought! Finn you are something else…” Samuel hums as he hurriedly writes it down.

“Oh…that’s not— I wasn’t being serious about that.” He gets up from the bed and he walks over, watching the words flow down onto the board.

“No, serious or not, this idea will be good. We just have to figure out how to make it play out right, how to get the prefect on board, too. Azul will take more convincing.” Samuel smiles as he connects lines to other points, drawing arrows.

“Exactly. Getting him to go with the Prefect on his own. That won’t happen, you see how he acts around them, he’s so helpless!” Finn shakes his head, rolling his eyes at the mere thought.

“We’ll make our ‘cause’ sound convincing. And, the Prefect would be more open up to the idea if we told them. ‘Excuse me prefect, Azul offered to take you on a boat ride for the marine biology unit, without having to pay!’ Right? Sounds good? I think so…a little white lie doesn’t hurt.” Samuel draws a boat on the whiteboard.

“The Prefect isn’t stupid, Samuel…”

“Well we can try at least. Cmonnnn, think of some things!” Samuel pouts as his marker stops.

“Slow down…we still have time. A whole week, so…we’ll have plenty of time to get the finer details…just remember we have to avoid the twins…”

Samuel stops writing and he tense up, he sighs and he caps the marker. “We…we can worry about them later. They barley recognize us as apart of the dorm, so I bet they won’t even find out, I guarantee it.”

“They’re creepy…and they find out a lot of things, don’t even try me…” Finn shakes his head.

“Don’t be so scared.” Samuel nudges Finns shoulder with his own and smiles again. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“We die.”

“Ooook, chill out, that won’t happen.” Samuel sighs, his shoulders slumping as he looks at the other boy in front of him.

“You don’t know that!” Finn huffs.

“Ok…well, time and fate will tell. Who do you wanna deal with? The Prefect or Azul?” Samuel quickly changes the topic.

“Prefect.” Finn nods.

“Ok. Good to know. Then we can base our plan off of that. Get to thinking tonight! Remember, if we get them together then technically we have an advantage over Azul. We helped him score a hot date, so he’ll just have to pay us back.” Samuel smiles, chuckles and walks Finn to the door.

Hey, they’re Octavinelle students, after all.

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

Some more planning happened over the last few days and it’s finally time to initiate the ultimate plan, first convincing both sides, second, getting both sides to agree, then third, Samuel and Finn being the best wingmen imaginable and receiving the praise and glory, that’s at least what they’re hoping for.

The lounge is…technically closed at the moment, seats are flipped up on tables and the place has been cleansed to a spotless perfection, but more serious matters needed to be tended to.

“Ok, let’s act the scene out. Pretend I’m the prefect, you convinced me to come join you at the lounge for the project, bring up the topic about the unit, and we have to pray the Prefect will complain about it, but I will for the sake of practice. Your lines, ‘yea, I wish I could help you but I’m really busy the rest of the week so I can’t. Maybe ask someone else?’ Right? You got it?” Samuel sighs as he eyes Finn. Finn nods and he clears his throat.

He goes over to the table in the “empty” lounge, and he pulls out the chair for Samuel, then Finn sits down himself.

“Scribble scribble, sounds of fake studying, blah blah blah. And go!” Samuel hums.

“Man, Prefect, this new marine biology unit must be hard for you, huh?”

“Oh myyyy, yes! Totally! Maybe you could help me with it considering your from the coral sea?”

“Unfortunately I can’t. I’m super busy, you know? Over the weekend I have to go back home for a little so I can hang out with my totally real girlfriend, yes.” Finn nods, pursing his lips. “Maybe ask someone else? The twins maybe?”

“Bro, don’t even mention the twins that’ll scare the prefect, oh my seven.” Samuel sighs as he breaks character.

“Ok, sorry, I was just saying random things for the skit…” Finn’s shoulders slump.

Sounds of heels clicking against the ground cause the two to straighten up. They scramble to their feet but it’s already too late for them.

“Hmmmm? Little guppies are in the lounge, heh!” Floyd smirks as he sees the two, his teeth glinting in the dim lights.

“Uhhhh…”

“My, my, Floyd, what do we have here?” Jade chuckles lightly.

“Why are these fuckers up, ahhhhh…” Finn whispers as he inches slowly behind Samuel, which in turn causes him to stumble and glare at Finn as he tries to use him as a shield.

“Have you two failed to read the ‘closed’ sign? I don’t think Azul will fair well with finding out his own dorm members were sneaking in here at such late hours…” Jade sighs, shaking his head as if he is truly disappointed.

“There’s no way to lie our way out of this, huh…” Samuel’s voice is higher pitched and just a small murmur at this point.

“Precisely. Floyd, would you escort them—“

“WE KNOW THE WAY OUT THANK YOU!!!” Finn yelps as he books it to the door, Samuel in sync and a step behind him.

Floyd sighs and he leans back against the wall.

“Did ya hear what they were doing? Either they got some weird fetishes or they’re planning something…” Floyd hums.

“Indeed.” Jade nods.

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

You sit in class listening to Crewel’s usual small lecture before he sends everyone off to do their own thing. You go with your partner, Finn, and you start to go over the prospective material.

He awkwardly clears his throat, putting a fist to his mouth and looking at you. “So…you, uh, do you wanna come by the lounge later to study just a little more before the exam next Monday? I won’t be here for the rest of the weekend so…if you’d wanna.”

You weigh the option in your mind before you respond with a small nod. “Sure, I think I’m free. I don’t think Crowley has me doing much today, on Fridays he usually has me clean up most the gardens around the school.” You smile.

“I uh…I don’t think that’s something to be normal about— anyways, yea, ok, good.” He gives you a small nod. “Meet me after classes are over, we can walk to Octavinelle. Oh, and make sure you drop Grim off with your friends.”

“Uh, ok, that’s a little odd but sure.” You shrug.

"Uh, Azul implemented a new rule, no pets allowed..."

"Grim isn't a pet, though?"

"Oh, uh...better safe than sorry, oh, look at that, bell rang, see ya later, Prefect!" He hums as the bell rings and he picks up his books before leaving you alone. Grim floats over and puts his hands on his hip, already complaining about trivial topics of the day…

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

The lounge’s music is akin to a medley of upbeat Jazz and pop as you sit at a booth with Finn, sadly oblivious to the cards Finn and Samuel were playing to pull the strings so you and Azul would end up together.

Sully, a second year Savanaclaw student, was working in the lounge along with Samuel, having been told about this plan and he insisted on helping because he knew exactly what to do, being well versed in the topic of love, so he says.

“How are you gonna get Azul outa his office, gonna be a bit hard…” the tray in Sully’s hand wobbles as he walks along with Samuel.

“Just wait, will you?” Samuel shakes his head.

“So…Prefect. The marine biology unit…must be hard, huh? You know, since you’re not like from this world or anything and you’re not a mer.” Finn smiles awkwardly.

“It’s not…so bad.” You shrug. “It’s definitely hard but it’s not the end of the world, I’ve been drawn the short stick plenty of times so I’ll make do, though a little help wouldn’t hurt…” you nod thoughtfully. Close enough to what they were hoping you’d say.

“Ah, that’s too bad. I’d offer to help you more after today but I’m gonna be busy, I actually have to go back home…I’m sure someone else here could help. Oh, and Sam’d be busy, too. You have another option as well…but he’s a lil more iffy…” Finn drawls on. He looks back to Azul’s office to see Sully and Samuel acting out a scene, progressing closer to you two.

“Let me guess, Azul? As much as I think we’re on good terms, I don’t know if I should bother him for something like that…it’d be nice, though. And I also don’t exactly have enough credit built up from ordering to have a consultation with him.” You smile as you stir your drink.

Just when the moment goes quiet, the two other members of the team come by, bickering with each other and gaining the interest of the rest of the customers. You glance over at them, and out of the corner of your eye, see Azul standing behind your booth, watching them.

The two stop fighting and they walk away, leaving Azul to linger awkwardly.

“Hey, Azul.” You hum, looking down and hiding your reddened cheeks.

“Hello, Y/N…” he murmurs out

“Hey, Azul! I can’t be here to help tutor them over the weekend so I was thinking maybe you could step in! I’ll work extra hours, I promise, they were telling me how hard the unit was for them—“

“I never said—“

“I was actually gonna take the Prefect out on a boat and show them some of the marine life up close, easier to learn that way!” Finn beams, talking over you.

Azul tenses and he pushes his glasses up, looking at Finn incredulously. “I…I’m busy, I wouldn’t have time.”

“Azul, I think it would be quite beneficial, no? The Prefect would get to learn and you could boast your exponential knowledge of your home.” Jade smiles as he shuffles over silently.

“Yea! Cmon, I bet Shrimpy would love it…” Floyd chimes in.

You sit staring at all of them, and you can’t help but notice a questioning gaze to Finn’s eyes.

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

It was the weekend, and the only time you and Azul had free was towards the evening, so, here you are, sat uncomfortably on a small rowboat with Azul. He uses his magic to turn the oars and you pass under trees, the fireflies dancing around on the land in a hypnotizing pattern.

It’s quiet. Too quiet. The tension in the air thick and sickening.

“Ahem…this, this here is a sea turtle…”

“I can tell.” You sigh. You rest your chin in the palm of your hand, gazing at Azul who seems to be out of his comfort zone. It’s weird in a way. He shifts awkwardly and you see him gaze at the crystal blue water with a sense of reluctance.

Both of you blissfully unaware of anything else in the moment, Finn and Samuel are in their merforms, hiding along in the manatee and turtle grass, moving behind the cattails to listen in. This wasn’t going great, they knew they needed to do a little more to set the mood.

“Go time?” Finn asks.

“Go time. Now or never.” Samuel smirks and gives a thumbs up. He whips out his magic pen and he makes flowers nearby bloom, sparkling lights fill the surrounding air, and small, delicate splashes of water pop for an added sound effect.

The boat rocks slightly and with another boost of magic, the vessel is propelled forwards towards some wisteria trees along the edges of the lagoon, the purple strands of flowers reaching down and caressing the water.

Pelicans swoop by and create an opening by moving some of the long strands out of the way and allowing the boat to go on by. Samuel smiles and he slips his magic pen away, going down and grabbing some kelp to use as a baton.

“Finish the rest, Finn. Gotta make sure the wildlife around here can add in some natural music for us.”

Finn swims off with a nod and he swims around the boat, causing various rippled patterns to form on the surface.

“Does marine life usually do this?” You sigh out due out of disbelief, hunching over and looking over the edge. “It’s…oddly sweet in a way, no?” You glance back at him, leaning forwards and scooting to the edge of your seat to be closer.

“This isn’t right.” He crosses his arms, looking around with distaste.

“Oh…Never mind that, then.” You lean back. Great, now the mood was soiled again. Again, Finn just has to give a helpful push, right?

Finn sighs and he gently nudges the boat, rocking it and causing both of you to move closer, your faces merely inches apart. His glasses slip down and he looks surprised to now be so close.

You both blush and Azul quickly straightens up, coughing into his fist and gripping the edge of the boat. “Must’ve been a shark…”

“Maybe…” you murmur, nodding along to his words.

You look back at each other and you can’t help but smile at how stupid he looks. Usually he was a well put together business man, but now? He looks so out of it, stupid with his tinted pink cheeks. You scoot closer again and you fix his hair, tucking a strand behind his ear.

He turns as still as a statue and looks at you with widened eyes. “Ah…”

“Thanks for this whole thing, I guess. I bet it’s not something you really wanted to do, but I appreciate it nonetheless.” You retract your hand. “I’ve learned a good bit, and plus, I get to see this weirdly unnatural but beautiful sight with you.”

No! So close, sooooo close! Finn rolls his eyes and he decides to let the moment play out on its own for now until intervention is needed again.

He nods and he fixes up his uniform tie, looking away. “I agree…afterwards for payment, I’d suggest just working a shift or two at the lounge. Is that acceptable for your schedule?”

“Really?” Finn shakes his head yet again.

“I guess so…thanks, again.”

“It’s nothing, really. This was simply a trifle, don’t worry.” He sighs.

You both lock eyes again and a lightbulb seems to go off. You reach your hands over to his, holding them palm up and offering them to him. He responds and tentatively places his hands in yours.

“Hey…can I maybe tell you something? I just…don’t want to ruin our friendship with what I’m about to say, well, I mean if you even consider us friends, you know?” You sigh, your cheeks bright red at this point as you look down to see fish swimming by.

“Why wouldn’t I consider you that? You’re a great asset to me— I mean…more than that I suppose…” the last part of his sentence is a quiet mutter, his hands tightening around yours.

“Azul, I like you, as crazy as it is to say. I can’t really hide it anymore. I don’t know what it is about you…”

His hands tremble and he purses his lips, looking like he’d literally blow up any second now out of embarrassment, happiness, longing, yearning, relief, who knows…You wait for a response, yet a verbal one never leaves, instead he leans forwards and he intertwines his fingers with yours.

“Are we sealing the deal then? I dunno, sounded like something you’d say.” You smile, which in turn causes him to as well.

You both lean in, your lips centimeters apart and your eyes closed, the sweet ocean breeze and the mix of his cologne filling your senses in the best way imaginable. The moment felt surreal.

Finn giggles quietly and smiles, completely giddy as he watches the romance finally bloom and take off. He gets ready to cheer, but the cute moment is short lived as he watches two long shadows swim by in the water beneath the boat. The boat rocks then tips over, sending you and Azul both into the water.

You pop back up above the water, using your arms and legs to keep you afloat as you take a few gasps of air.

“Azul?” You huff as you look around, swimming over to the more shallow edge of the lagoon.

Azul slowly peeks his head up out of the water, his skin turned to his purple-grey hue which was common in his merform. Your eyes meet his and you relax, moving over to him.

“You ok?”

“Seems so…”

You look at him and you can’t help the bubbles of laughter that escape your mouth from the absurdity of the situation. He ducks down below.

“Hey, ‘zul, I wasn’t laughing at you…”

You take a breath and you move your head below, opening your eyes and looking at him as he sulks. You put a hand on his shoulder and he looks over at your smiling face.

“This was ruined…” the water muffles his voice and you gently tug him up, bobbing back up to the surface with your hand grabbing his arm.

“Say that again?”

“The moment. It was ruined, I wasn’t watching my magic while turning the oars…”

“No. It’s fine! I wasn’t laughing at you, just at us falling in. Geez. Come here.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders and you press a kiss to his lips, a small squeak emanating from his throat as his eyes widen then relax, eventually fluttering closed. He wraps his arms back around you and you can feel his tentacles grip your legs, a subconscious action of his. You both pull away after a moment, stupid fulfilled smiles on your faces.

“Do I still have to work shifts at the lounge for this?”

“I don’t suppose so…consider the kiss to be payment…”

“I’m lucky I didn’t have to sign a contract to kiss you. You’ve come a long way.” You pat his back.

“Really? I didn’t think you’d think of me to stoop that low.” He looks at you with an unamused expression.

Splashing of water can be heard from behind you and you see Jade and Floyd’s heads pop up. Floyd comes up behind you and pries you off of Azul, giving you a big squeeze.

“Awwwwww! Looky! You and Azul are so cute, but me and Jade got bored, took too long.” He giggles.

“And we thought it’d be nice of us to give you a gentle push in the right direction is all.” Jade nods along with his pointer finger and thumb gently grasping his chin.

“Thanks?” You sigh.

“Of course, Shrimpy! Heh!” He holds you tighter and does a small spin in the water. “Don’t get jealous, Azul.” He winks at him.

“You two are insufferable.” He face palms and shakes his head.

“Quite the contrary.” Jade smirks widely.

Finn and Samuel stay off in the distance, heads hung in despair. “How’d they find out?”

“I don’t know. Now they’re taking credit for our idea!”

“It was probably Sully, that loud mouth.” Samuel sighs. “Shouldn’t have let him in on the plan.

“Exactly. Your fault.”

“Mine? Don’t start with me Finn—“

(Finn and Samuel never got the recognition they hoped for…in fact Jade and Floyd got it all. How did they even hear of the plan? After catching them in the lounge the one night they did their own little investigation and discovered their plan…Sully is still blamed by Samuel…justice for Sully, y’all)

AHHHHH! I’m done! I fear I may have lost track like halfway through, but it’s ok…I like how it ended at least. Also you could tell I was getting restless while writing this cause my sentences kept getting shorter…Thanks for reading, my lovelies!

Requests are open if yall have any Valentine’s Day Ideas!

Master List

Please don’t steal or copy any of my work! You may, however, reblog if you’d want to!

Pictures/GIF belongs to Disney but is edited by me :)

Bonus photo that I edited:

[shuenkio]

Secret Secret — ࣪𖤐 승민 .ᐟ

۫ ꣑ৎ Synopsis: They say, as a gay, never fall for the straight guy who’s affectionate and kind. But what happens when the straight guy finds himself falling for you instead?

۫ ꣑ৎ Paring: Seungmin x m!reader

۫ ꣑ৎ Genre: Fluff. ۫ ꣑ৎ Cw: none.

۫ ꣑ৎ non proof read ۫ ꣑ৎ Eng is not my 1st

۫ ꣑ৎ This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

"Here!" He grabs your palm, place a chocolate bar all of the sudden. Causing you to furrow your brows, bewildered the scene.

"But what for?" You asked, still not recognizing his intentions yet. Today was Valentine's day, where everyone gave gifts or received them, and also the day of confessing their feelings to their loved ones you get it. But one thing that was odd was, Seungmin, the excellent and attractive employee in the company was the one who gave you, out all of the other girls, who had a big fat crush on him yet he chose you instead? Should you be happy or sad?

"idiot, it's Valentine day aigoo" the taller scoffed a heavy sigh before walk off, shove his hands back into his pocket act as if this never happened. You scratch the back of your head, unable to react to such a situation since never in your life receive gifts on Valentine's day.

"....what?" Once Seungmin is gone, all your co-workers beside you suddenly circling around like flies, some scream while some are even more excited than you. Who wouldn't when is THE Kim Seungmin, the nonchalantly blunted guy, out of the blue giving you a gift out of everyone, this should be displayed in the museum for real.

"Yaaaa M/N aren't you so lucky to get such gift??" Once say.

"UGH what did you do last live to live in my dream right now!!" Twice say.

"Gosh I better not hear you reject him, or Imma drowning you in this can" thrice say.

"reject? What reject, this is just a small gift right?" Keeping it low, there's no way he was y'know... Into guy? How is it possible if that was such an outright way to ask you out. Groaning was heard once you responded. Ever since you've been working here for god knows how long together with Seungmin, the latter will always find his way to take care of m/n secretly, giving rides home, act of service, helping m/n when he's struggling and gosh, there's so many. However, you don't think that kind of way, as a hopeless romantic guy from all the way childhood to this age now, you realized that you'll never find love since you're a homosexual. Never experience the high school love nor any kind of relationship ever. So when somebody is acting this way, you thought it was normal, isn't it?

"how dumb are you, Don't you notice how he acts when it comes to you ? You're the favoritesm" once say.

"true true, we get nothing during the new years eve but you got a fucking Rolex watch from him" twice say.

"m/n listen to us alright? If you're not certain about him, go ask him if it was worth the try, that man is not the straight forward one— we know how you feel when this happened but think Abt it, it has been a year now— but if you don't do anything, don't say we don't spare mercy, anything is possible just to make you say one word" thrice say.

Their advice lingers on your head. Face resting on your palm, pouting. Tskk it's actually a pretty serious thing for them and you tho, looking back to all the memories it sounds like you are his favorite indeed, as the time goes on it's far more than his favorite person.

"fine okay... I'll ask him this evening, I have dinner with him though" you stated, and focus on finishing your work. While your co-workers went back to their place with a happy grin spread across their face.

"kiss me~ don't say no—"

A sleek, jet-black luxury car rolled to a stop right outside the building, its polished body reflecting the dim lights in a way that made it look almost too perfect to be real. The engine gave a soft hum, like a low purr, almost too smooth to be true.

Then, the door opened—wide, welcoming. Like it was waiting for you.

For a second, you stood there, blinking. Was this really happening? This was getting a little too real, like something straight out of a movie.

You snapped out of it, stepping into the car with a mix of hesitation and something else—you weren’t entirely sure. The leather seat felt too soft, the smell of clean luxury wrapping around you. It was like you were in a different world, one where all of this was normal, and you weren’t still trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

You reached for the seatbelt, your fingers a little more unsteady than they should’ve been. As you finally settled in, you glanced at Seungmin.

His face was relaxed, eyes forward, fingers steady on the steering wheel—but there was that smirk at the corner of his mouth. That little smirk that made everything too damn real.

"All set?" he asked, his voice smooth and casual, like this wasn’t completely out of place.

Before you could even answer, the engine roared to life beneath you. The car glided forward, the world outside blurring as you were pulled deeper into whatever this was—whatever he was.

You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at Seungmin, his eyes just flicking toward you for a second, that smirk still there, as if he knew exactly what was running through your mind.Yeah. You were definitely in trouble now.

( in third pov )

The soft hum of conversation filled the air as M/N and Seungmin stepped into the restaurant. The warm glow of fairy lights draped across the ceiling cast a golden hue over the Valentine’s-themed decor—roses in crystal vases, flickering candles, and a breathtaking view of the ocean stretching beyond the glass windows. The faint scent of saltwater mixed with the aroma of fresh pasta and wine. It was undeniably romantic. Too romantic.

M/N swallowed, eyes darting around. It wasn’t that he minded being here with Seungmin, but something about the atmosphere made his chest feel a little tight, his heart just a little too aware. And maybe—just maybe—it had to do with the nagging feeling creeping up on him lately.

Seungmin strolled up to the reception desk, hands in pockets, his usual composed demeanor unreadable. The receptionist, a cheerful woman with a clipboard, greeted them with a bright smile.

"Ah, welcome! Table for two? Are you a couple?"

M/N immediately parted his lips to say No, but before the word could form, Seungmin, ever so casual, nodded and replied, "Yes."

The receptionist beamed.

"Oh, wonderful! Happy Valentine’s Day! You’ll be getting our couple’s discount!"

M/N blinked, a sharp inhale catching in his throat. Excuse me?

Seungmin, on the other hand, remained perfectly unbothered, only lifting a brow at M/N as if to say, What? It’s a discount.

M/N’s mind spiraled in a dozen different directions. Was it just for the sake of the discount? Or was this something else? Something that confirmed that inkling feeling he’d been trying to ignore for weeks?

Still slightly dazed, he followed Seungmin to their table near the floor-to-ceiling window. The restaurant was nestled on a cliffside, giving them an uninterrupted view of the sea. The waves shimmered under the soft glow of the moon, the distant city lights twinkling against the horizon. It was the kind of place lovers would dine at, whispering sweet nothings over candlelit dinners.

And here M/N was, sitting across from Seungmin—Seungmin, who was all nonchalance, leaning back against the seat, sipping water like he hadn’t just thrown M/N’s entire world off its axis.

The meal went by in a blur, M/N hyper-aware of every brush of movement, every fleeting glance. Seungmin, of course, was the same as always, his aloof expression unreadable, his voice carrying that low, effortless ease. And M/N? M/N felt like he was malfunctioning internally.

Then, just as M/N thought he was in the clear, Seungmin casually slid something across the table.

A box. Wrapped neatly with a ribbon.

M/N stared at it. Then at Seungmin. Then back at the box.

"...What’s this?" His voice came out quieter than intended.

Seungmin tilted his head slightly. "A gift."

M/N hesitated. He could already feel the heat creeping up his neck, fingers trembling slightly as he tugged at the ribbon. The box opened with a soft click—inside, nestled in velvet, was a delicate silver bracelet. The charm attached to it was subtle, but M/N recognized the design instantly. It was something he had offhandedly admired months ago while window shopping—something he hadn’t even realized Seungmin had noticed.

M/N’s breath hitched.

His chest felt tight again, but for an entirely different reason.

"...Do you like it?" Seungmin asked, tone as indifferent as ever, but his eyes—those deep, steady eyes—held something softer. Something patient.

M/N swallowed hard, nodding, his voice refusing to work.

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words. And maybe it was the dim lighting, maybe it was the leftover adrenaline from earlier, or maybe—just maybe—it was the fact that everything was finally making sense.

M/N clenched his fists under the table, gathering every ounce of courage he had.

"...Do you," he exhaled slowly, pulse hammering, "like me?"

Seungmin didn’t blink. Didn’t even hesitate.

He leaned back, exuding that same effortless calm, and said, "I thought that was obvious."

M/N’s heart stopped.

And just like that, everything he had been trying to ignore crashed over him like a tidal wave.

Seungmin watched as M/N sat there, frozen, his fingers twitching slightly against the table. His lips parted like he wanted to say something—anything—but nothing came out. His wide eyes, the way his breath hitched, the sheer disaster of emotions playing out on his face—Seungmin almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

With a sigh, Seungmin leaned back, arms crossing over his chest. "You know," he started, voice even, "I figured you’d be like this."

M/N finally blinked, snapping out of whatever internal meltdown he was going through. "...Like what?"

Seungmin tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Hopeless," he said bluntly. "A hopeless romantic who’s spent his whole life thinking love was something out of reach just because you’ve never had it before." He exhaled through his nose, tapping his fingers against the table. "And yeah, I knew you’d overthink this. But honestly? I don’t care."

M/N stiffened, his breath caught in his throat. "You—"

"I don’t care," Seungmin repeated, this time with a slow, deliberate shrug. "Because I already like you." His gaze was steady, unwavering. "And there’s nothing you can do about that."

M/N’s chest tightened.

Seungmin watched him, as if waiting, as if knowing exactly what was running through his mind. Then, with that same lazy, deadpan tone, he added, "So? What now? You gonna run away? Or are you finally gonna admit you like me back?"

M/N felt his heart lurch. He swallowed thickly, mind racing.

And then, finally, finally, he let out a breath and muttered, "...Fine." His voice was quiet, but firm. "Yes."

Seungmin smirked, like he had just won some long-awaited game. He lifted his glass, taking a sip of water, before setting it down with a soft clink.

"Yeah," he said, exhaling like this was nothing new. "Thought so."

M/N groaned, slumping against the table. He was so done for.

A/n: Guy guess what? I'm doing this experiment with Seungmin y'all!! I'm kicking my feet, giggling, & ate some wall while writing this 😋 my favorite so far— I'd love some comments, like really!!! Should I continue or whatever.

Funtalk: I can't help but to post this in advance, because valentines are 4 more days and I can't wait to see y'all reaction, so yeah...