#I DON’T EVEN GO HERE TECHNICALLY BUT MY GOD … THEIR ART IS SO …

[wickcdmindz]

how does dylan feel about her siblings?

lol, under the read more is a massive text dylan mass sent to all the people she deems (vaguely) important in her life. not just her siblings. i'm so sorry for what your eyes will be subjected to.

subject: “a comprehensive dissection of the absolute circus i regretfully call family: a treatise in one act (with footnotes)” penned by dylan wright, professional disappointment curator, unofficial sociopath, and the only person here with a brainstem worth mentioning

dearest siblings, associates, and stray creatures of affectionable attachment,

i write to you today not out of love (which, as we know, is merely the evolutionary equivalent of stockholm syndrome) but out of a responsibility i did not ask for, did not want, and—frankly—have worn far too well for the lot of you to appreciate.

i have just returned from an afternoon spiraling down a rabbit hole of comparative renaissance poisonings (a study which began with my morning cinnamon dolce latte—extra hot, no foam, extra whip, as god intended—and ended somewhere between “accidental belladonna ingestion” and “intentional familial annihilation by arsenic-laced fig jam”), and i was struck, quite viscerally, by how many of you could’ve been elegantly offed by a well-placed dose of monkshood in the 16th century. it’s a wonder you’ve all made it this far. truly. brava.

this is not a cry for help. it is, rather, a declaration of war.

now, i was going to keep this brief, but then i remembered brevity is for the dull and underachieving, which would make it perfectly suitable for some of you—but tragically inappropriate for me. so let’s begin.

let us begin.

morgan, my eldest brother, the patriarchal waffle. my eldest brother and perhaps the most walking evidence of god's apathy. you’ve been alive the longest and somehow learned the least. you speak like a valedictorian who peaked in preschool and walk like the ghost of daddy issues past. you are, as always, the sentient equivalent of beige paint—technically present but emotionally absent. your devotion to being perfectly average has reached spiritual levels, and i do applaud the commitment. but morgan, darling, if i wanted an opinion that came from a loaf of dry white bread, i’d interrogate a crust. kindly go back to nodding solemnly at things you don’t understand.

dale, my unfortunate twin. oh dale. my wombmate, my burden, my biochemical disappointment. being born at the same time as someone should, in theory, inspire connection. instead, it’s inspired weekly migraines. you’re like a tax write-off i can’t legally detach from. your loyalty is sweet, if i were into half-hearted golden retrievers who fetch only when no one’s watching and then piss on the rug. pick a lane, dale. or better yet, pull over and let someone interesting drive. born five minutes late and approximately five years behind me in every meaningful way. you are the human embodiment of a participation trophy. there is no debate i could win against you that would satisfy me, because it’s like verbally jousting with an especially earnest sponge. stop trying to “get through to me.” i am not a puzzle to be solved. i am an apex predator. you are background noise.

luca, my ethereal stoner sister. the human equivalent of an incense stick. you drift through life like a lo-fi playlist with commitment issues. i’m convinced you’ve never had a single real thought, just vibes and weed. you wear detachment like it's a designer label, and i know you think that makes you enlightened. it doesn’t. it makes you predictable. even your silence screams “i peaked during an acid trip in the forest and never emotionally returned.” i admire your ability to say absolutely nothing with such conviction. it’s art, truly. but darling, one day your avoidance will get someone killed—and the worst part is, you’ll be too high to notice. you are the emotional equivalent of leaving your phone on airplane mode during a crisis. but i do love your hair and, annoyingly, the sound of your voice.

price. you petulant, immaculately styled nightmare. you walk through hospitals like you’re allergic to humility, diagnosing everyone except yourself. i know what you are under that perfect foundation and those surgically sharp acrylics: a nurturer with a grudge and no patience for anyone who doesn’t bleed aesthetically. i would trust you with my life, and that’s what makes you the most dangerous of all. you confused little night nurse (i don't CARE about your phd) in silk. your emotional range swings between “therapist on the brink” and “lesbian who would rather set herself on fire than admit she cares.” i respect the commitment. truly. but if you sigh one more time like you invented disappointment, i will personally smother you with your own overcompensating pillow collection.

cain. darling, if rage were an aesthetic, you’d be a vogue spread. you’re the hellhound i didn’t adopt but keep anyway because watching you maul lesser beings is one of the few joys i have left. you know i adore you in the way sociopaths adore their favorite knife—useful, beautiful, and bound to get me into trouble. still, if you hurl another chair at someone during dinner, i swear i’ll muzzle you myself and not in the fun way. if you could stop snarling long enough to have a conversation without breaking furniture or bones, that’d be phenomenal. you are beautiful rage wrapped in trauma, and you are the only person i know whose temper i fear almost as much as i enjoy provoking.

tripp. or as i like to call you, the love child of southern charm and arson. you’re like a haunted truck stop with a personality disorder—gritty, unpredictable, and somehow still hot. the way you smile like you’ve buried secrets in your backyard? chef’s kiss. but let’s be honest: you’re only here because chaos needs a friend, and i’m too pretty to commit crimes alone. your mommy issues make for excellent entertainment and terrible dinner conversation. sweetheart, you are a war crime in denim. you are every cigarette ever flicked at a gas station pump. you’re what happens when trauma learns how to flirt. i adore you, even though your idea of “tender” is a half-dead stare and a comment about how well i’d do in a padded cell. but we understand each other, don’t we? you, me, and the devil all dance in similar shoes.

and now… elias. my father. you who wear silence like a bespoke suit. elias, i’ve seen tyrants with more emotional availability. you raised us with the solemnity of a cursed oracle—so dignified, so restrained, so… deliberately disappointing. you look at me like i’m a tragedy you failed to edit in time. but you never did try, did you? you simply watched as evan whispered venom into my ear and decided to call it fate. you were always more interested in what i’d become than how i’d survive. congratulations. this is your masterpiece. you once told me that silence was a virtue. funny, coming from a man who built an empire on thunderous disappointment. you wear dignity like it absolves you of sin, and maybe that works on morgan and dale, but not on me. i see through your poise, your calculated kindness, your empty praise. your legacy is not strength—it’s the illusion of it. and i will not be your quietest daughter. only your sharpest.

evan. aunt, mentor, sociopathic midwife of my entire worldview. you are a walking monologue of designer neurosis. i can still hear your voice in my head: “darling, never cry. if you must suffer, do it in couture.” you taught me how to smile while gutting someone metaphorically (and possibly literally). you are my favorite mistake, my oldest sin, and the proof that i was never meant to be anything soft. i thank you for the monster you made me—but do not mistake that gratitude for loyalty. we are far too alike for that.

in conclusion, this missive was not meant to inspire guilt (though if you feel any, do explore it—deeply). it was meant to cleanse. to reset. to reframe our dynamics not as familial or tender, but clinical. like vivisection. because i’ve realized i’ve spent far too long pretending you were my equals, when in truth, i’ve simply been studying you. observing. collecting.

and now, i’m bored.

so i suggest you all shape up, shut up, or ship yourselves off to a therapist with a strong constitution and a full bottle of valium.

i’ll be in the parlor. with my starbucks. reading machiavelli. again.

and just so we’re clear: if any of you even think about staging another family “intervention,” i will fake my own death and resurface six months later in ibiza with a new face and a swiss bank account.

with all the warmth of a marble tombstone,

dylan your wicked sister, resident queenpin, and potential cause of death (emotional or otherwise)

[soratonin]

guys i genuinely fell in love with this blade / hsr artist on xiaohongshu and i have never in my life seen anyone draw so beautifully and intricately ON MY LIFE i do not think i could ever reach this level of talent no matter how many years of practice oh my god 😭😭😭 AND THEY’RE GIVING OUT THEIR BRUSHES THEY USE FOR THEIR ART FOR FREE TO ANYONE THAT COMMENTS AND THEY’RE SO SWEET AND FUN T_T ….. and i wanna comment so badly because the brushes r so peak but i’m so nervous I’M SHAKING THEY’RE SO COOL 😭😭😭

[luvrxbunny]

fangs

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

Summary: You see Miguel’s fangs for the first time. 

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fangs, very minimal self-doubt, cum in pants (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 1.9k

A/N: I used google translate for the spanish so if anything is incorrect im sorry 

‘Your package was delivered’

Your face brightens at the notification as you hop out of bed and rush to the front door. When you open it you’re met with the broad, muscular back of your boyfriend, Miguel O’Hara.

“Miggy?” You say with a laugh. “What are you doing out here? Oh my god, are you my package?!” You’re hunched over, laughing at your own joke as Miguel stands from his seated position, casting his large shadow over you. 

“Hi, amor.” He places a kiss on your forehead and walks in. “How has your day been?” He asks as he strips off his suit top and walks to the bedroom but you don’t answer, still wondering about something. 

“Why were you just sitting out there?” You ask while closing the front door and taking your slippers off. Miguel hasn’t said anything, letting a long pause draw out before answering.

“I was calming down.” He comes back out in a t-shirt that’s tighter than it needs to be and some gray sweatpants. 

“The fight was pretty intense, a little demanding y’know? So I just wanted to- I wanted to calm down before coming inside… But how was your day?” You don’t let the subject change, still confused with his statement. 

There have been plenty of times when Miguel would burst in, still aggressive and amped up from the latest fight, adrenaline still coursing through him. The first time it happened you were a little scared of course, you’d never seen him like that, eyes clouded with violence, his claws out in the air and threatening, with a deep scowl on his face. But that was a long time ago.

You’ve mastered the art of turning him from Spider-Man to Miggy. You learned it quite some time ago, which just furthers your confusion from his response. He’s rummaging through the cabinets, muttering about how he’s starving and you realize he hasn’t met your gaze since you found him which is incredibly unlike him. 

“Miguel, is that the truth? I mean- You’ve come in all amped up before so…” You trail off as Miguel freezes in the kitchen before sighing and running a hand through his hair. He closes the cabinet gently and turns to you, eyes cast downward before meeting yours. He takes another breath and walks to you. “It’s the technical truth uh… The whole truth is that my fangs were out and… I just- I don’t want you to see them.” He finishes his sentence and walks past you, to the bathroom and closes the door. 

You stand at the entrance to the kitchen in a stupor as you process his words and go chasing after him. You’re pounding on the bathroom door, begging him to let you see them, to let you kiss him with them out, and every other thought that comes to your mind, hoping it lightens the situation. You stop pounding after a few minutes, arms growing tired and getting a little embarrassed at his silence. You make your way over to the couch as you wait for him. 

You think about what he said, that he doesn’t want you to see his fangs and you feel a little pang of hurt in your heart that ripples through your body. 

He doesn’t want me to see them? Why though… Does he think I won’t like them? Does he think my opinion of him will change or something? I love him though, doesn’t he understand that?? Maybe it’s something super intimate, maybe he just doesn’t feel enough for me, for him to expose himself like that. Maybe he doesn’t trust me enough to be that vulnerable, to give all of him to me… 

Your thoughts turn your mood sour as Miguel finally emerges from the bathroom, teeth brushed and face newly washed. “I don’t want to show them to you.” The words strike your heart again as you nod your head at him, not even looking up at him as you fall into your negative thoughts. He watches you stare into the carpet, obviously deep in thought but you look sad. 

“You okay, hermosa?” He wipes his hands in the towel around his neck as he sits beside you on the couch. You don’t hear him, too inside your own head, leaving him ignored. He watches you for a bit before grabbing one of your thighs and turning your body to face him, knocking you out of your trance. You have a deep, heartbreaking expression on your face that you quickly mask with happiness when your eyes meet his. “I asked if you were okay, baby.” 

“Oh! Y-yeah! Yeah, I’m fine, sorry.” You giggle at him but it sounds hollow, making him guilty. He already knows why, he knows how your mind works, he knows how you think. He pulls you in, one leg is extended past him and the other is folded on the couch, touching his leg, your face a few inches from his. 

“Mi cariño, no tiene nada to do with you, okay? Nothing. I just-” He emphasizes ‘nothing’, willing you to believe him. He’s absently rubbing your calf as he tries to piece together what he wants to say. “They’re weapons. I feel like… I don't think I want you to see that… A part of me that’s a weapon. You look at me like… como si fuera tu todo, like I hung the stars… I love that and I don’t want it to change. Nunca quiero que eso cambie.” His eyes are looking at your calf, how his hand wraps around it instead of you. 

(“My love, it has nothing to do with you okay?” “...like I'm your everything…” “I never want that to change.” )

If he had been looking at you he would’ve seen the look of utter disbelief that rested on your face. You put your hand over his and pull yourself closer to him, placing a kiss on his forehead before speaking. “Miguel, I look at you that way because, despite the way you feel about yourself, I believe that you deserve every good thing the world has to offer. I want you to know that you don’t have to show them to me if you really don’t want to but be aware… I will love you for the rest of my life.. and there is nothing that can change that, my feelings for you literally cannot decrease.” 

He stays silent, avoiding your gaze still but you let him. You know that expressing himself is hard for him and hearing people speak positively to him is even harder. You giggle softly at his silence and place another kiss on his head. You’re about to get up from the couch when he pulls you back in, pressing his lips to yours with a bruising intensity that has a fire starting up in your stomach. Your lips part for him as he sighs into you, his hand grips your hair and he grunts as you feel something push against your mouth. He’s breathing faster, kissing you more passionately as you try to pull away. 

Eventually, you break from his grasp and try to look at him but he’s already turned from you. You want to protest but don’t want to push him. You bring one of your hands to rest at his nape, playing with some of the hairs there, trying to soothe him. You’re about to tell him that he doesn’t need to turn away, you can leave until he’s calmed down but he turns to you. His mouth is shut but his eyes are so fragile, like they’re pleading with you to be gentle. He holds your eye contact for a bit before opening his mouth in a smile-grimace expression. 

A gasp slips from your mouth and your hands come up to hold his face, pulling it to yours. You inspect his fangs as his warm breath floats over your face. You bring one hand from his face to tail over one of them, earning a flinch from Miguel but you run your other thumb across his cheek, attempting to soothe his worries. 

They’re much bigger than you expected, they look like they’d barely fit in his mouth. They’re smooth and glossy like marble, cleaner than you expected too. You wonder silently if he lets them come out, brushes them, and then retracts them as your other hand comes from his cheek to his mouth. They’re thick, they look like they could leave a sizeable puncture wound if he bit you. Your fingers squeeze around both fangs, feeling their width for yourself. Your fingers run along the length of his fangs and then go up to his gums. 

You’re completely captivated by his teeth, you haven’t even looked back up at him since he opened his mouth. You absently caress his fangs while inspecting his gums, trying to understand where they go when retracted. You give up on that when your thumb runs over the bottom of his fangs. 

He groans out, loud and ragged against your face. 

Your eyes flicker up to look at him and his eyes are rolled back into his head, eyebrows furrowed as he moans out a loose rendition of your name. You’re staring at him in awe as he mutters out a mix of unfinished words. You immediately look down into his lap and see a patch of dark gray spreading out. 

A moan rips from your throat as you press your hand against his hard, twitching, leaking cock and kiss him. His hips instantly twitch up into your hand, using the friction to prolong his orgasm. He’s moaning into your mouth, his hands are frantic as they push your head into his face, his fangs digging into your lips almost painfully. You slide your tongue into his mouth when he moans again, you explore it, feeling the fangs instantly and running your tongue over them. 

The action earns a gut-wrenching whine from Miguel as he starts to tremble. His hips are still bucking up into your palm, overstimulating himself as his cock spurts out mini loads. 

You pull away from him slowly, your hand gently massaging his cock as he comes down. He drops his head onto your shoulder as he pants, unsteady syllables of your name falling from his lips. 

He lifts his head from your shoulder once his cock stops jumping in your hold. There’s a rare pink hue over his face as he leans in to kiss you. You accept it with a smile, kissing him back before pulling away again. 

“So…” You start semi-awkwardly, a light laugh in your tone as he groans out, embarrassed. “Did that feel good? Are they sensitive?” A shuddering breath leaves him as he recalls how your fingers felt gliding over his fangs, how arousal punched into his gut the moment you touched them. 

“Yeah… It felt-” His sentence is cut off with a whisper of a whine as he thinks about it, breathing speeding up, chest heaving at the fresh memory. You’re surprised at this, you’ve never seen him so delirious so… fucked out. “Me sentí tan bien, bebé. N-no sabía que me sentía así. I loved it so much, you made me feel so fucking good, amor. Te amo tanto, cariño.” 

(“I felt so good, baby. I-I didn't know I felt like that”... “I love you so much, darling.”)

A smile graces your face at the one phrase you understand, ‘Te amo’. You pull him in for another kiss before whispering. “Good.” He groans and pulls you into his lap, whining when your weight presses against his sensitive cock. You smile into his lips and kiss him again, pulling away again to giggle at him. 

“ ‘S not funny.” He grumbles out as he leans back, laying down on the couch with you on top of him. You continue giggling into his neck and you can feel his cheeks fatten up with his smile. 

You guys stay there for the rest of the night, intermittently waking up to smother the other in kisses before falling back to sleep. 

Thank you so much for reading!! Please please please give any feedback you may have! I want it all!

[orchidyoonkook]

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 7

Title: Hard Goodbyes and Favourite Colours

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: Nel flies home, Yuri flies back, Jungkook can't stop thinking about the other night. And you? Gods, don't even get me started.

Warnings: T, language, fluff (?), angst, reader is ~not~ okay for a chunk of this, bye bye Nel! it was nice to meet you, Yuri being the bestie she is, playful antagonism, JK thinking a lot, some photography technical words but nothing scary, reader is painting again, shocker.

Word Count: 4,463

Release Date: July 9, 2024. 2:00PM

A/N 1: Hi this was supposed to be released like a month and a half ago but then i went to europe and my brain was anywhere but near electronics. Anywhooo here she is, as always thanks for waiting and I'll try to be more consistent now that post vacation depression has kicked in.

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six

Sometimes life works out incredibly conveniently for you, like when Nel’s flight leaves a half hour before Yuri’s gets in at the same airport. 

But then it sucks again as your week with Nel flies by so quickly it feels like you’ve had no time at all while also having so much because of all the new memories you’ve both made. 

Currently in a rideshare and airport bound, because you will be in no way okay to drive back, your grip on Nel’s hand is strangling as you take in every last second of time you can get with him. He keeps giving kisses to your forehead, nose, cheeks, mouth; anywhere he can get access to really. 

He doesn't want this week to end just as much as you don’t. Fuck this fucking sucks so much.

The driver pulls up to the terminal drop off, and you both exit. Nel grabs his bag from the trunk, now filled with little mementos from your week as well as his clothes. A pressed flower from the greenhouse, museum postcards, a doodle you did for him while he was sketching, and more, all tucked away for safekeeping. All the only physical things he can hold onto until he sees you next. 

Walking into the airport, you make your way up to the check in desk, paperwork already in hand. Nel checks in and you request an escort pass, determined to spend every last moment together. 

There’s a lump forming in your throat that you’re trying to swallow. It’s thick, like a ball of unending peanut butter you can’t get down. And your chest feels like a black hole has opened inside of it, right where your heart is supposed to be. Every second that ticks away allowing another drop of the warmth you have with him to be sucked right out of your sternum.

Painful doesn’t even begin to describe this feeling. 

As beautiful as your week was, the reality of the present is setting in, and the closer you get to his gate, the closer you are to tears. You’re trying your best to blink them away, but you won’t be seeing him until winter break, and even then, that’ll only be for a day or two at most before you have to wait till summer to see him again. So it might as well be goodbye for those full 6 months.

It hurts. It hurts so bad to have to go through this over and over again, to have this separation from the one you love, even if it’s only temporary. Funny how temporary can sometimes feel like forever when you’re in the middle of it. 

Funny how the concept of temporary doesn’t make the gash in your heart open any less.

You don’t want him to go, but you know he has too. The faster he goes, the faster he can come back to you. 

You hate that he has to go in the first place. You just want him to stay. Please, just stay.

But he can’t. 

You reach his gate and before you know it, his flight’s being called to board and your tears refuse to stay inside any longer, the lump succeeding in its plot of victory. They spill down your cheeks in silent rivers, wet splotches on the neckline of your shirt forming as they flow. 

Maybe they’ll create a little lake in the hole he’s leaving you with. There’s certainly enough of them to fill it. Something to fill the void a little until you can see him again.

Nel takes one look before scooping you into a crushing hug, a desperate echo of the one from a week ago. His own tears now staining.

“I love you so much,” he says. You don’t see his eyes squeeze shut, nor do you see him memorizing your smell, as he kisses the top of your head. And his voice wobbles as he whispers, “It’s not forever, it’s just for now.” 

He says those words every time you two part, whether it was for a day or a year. Never goodbye or so long. Never see you later. 

They’ve always been a small comfort in otherwise shitty situations. 

“Just for now,” you get out through quiet sobs, gripping onto him even tighter as you shake. 

It takes you a couple deep breaths before you can say anything without breaking. “I love you too. Please be safe, message me when you land, and do well on your final exams.”

He smiles at that last bit, and your tears free themselves again. You’re going to miss seeing that smile in person.

Nel pulls you in once more, tighter. “It’s always harder when my good luck charm is halfway across the world, but I’ll manage.” Your sobs stutter with a broken laugh, and you’re pretty sure his sweater is going to have tear stains on it. “I promise I’ll message as soon as I can. And I’d wish you luck but you never need it. You always do well.”

The announcement for final boarding calls and both of you freeze in each other's arms. You don’t want him to go. He doesn’t want to go.

But he has too. 

You separate only enough to kiss. It’s messy and wet and gross, but you don’t care. It’s the last one you’ll have for a while and you never want it to end. 

But it does. 

Nel pulls away, and you reluctantly let him. He grabs his bag with one hand, the other holding onto both of yours as he backs away until he can no longer reach. Your arms drop to your sides with the traces of his warmth on your skin.

You watch as the boarding crew welcomes him on, and he takes one look back at you. 

You wave, mouthing ‘I love you.’

He mouths ‘I love you’ right back, and turns the corner.

You waited for Yuri at her terminal after dropping off Nel and taking five—okay ten—minutes to violently sob in the bathroom. 

She took one look at your half smile and puffy eyes and smothered you in a hug. Smelling like sunshine and ocean water, it was exactly what you needed. 

“It’s okay Sweets, you’ll see him again before you know it. This year will pass by so fast, just you see,” she tells you through your whimpers, the tears having returned the second her arms were around you.

They dry sometime on the way home. It was a thirty minute ride back to school, and they fell silently for a solid twenty before you even got in.

You hate goodbyes. 

But Yuri’s seen this three times now, and she always knew that a warm drink and junk food were in your immediate shared futures when she did. Screw healthy coping methods. It may be 9:30pm on a Sunday night, but that won’t stop you from downing a pint as you drown your sorrows in sweet, sweet cookies n cream. 

Yuri also knows you need a distraction, so she doesn’t hold back on telling you every detail of her vacation. 

The duke from a few weeks ago had been a dud. ‘Shit personality and even shittier sex’ according to Yuri. No consultation needed. 

But this new guy from the Ilcalos Islands sounds promising. He’s a Count of something she can’t remember but in her words, “big heart and even bigger dick.” 

That makes you giggle. And you’re happy for her. 

“Bitch, the second night he did this thing with his tongue and an ice cube and oh. my. god. I think I’m in love. That man could do whatever he wanted to me and I’d still say thank you afterwards,” she’s rambling at this point and you’re mentally apologizing to the driver for having to hear all of it. 

You, on the other hand, don’t mind at all; gladly welcome it actually. You want your mind anywhere other than the present right now. 

You don’t want to start crying all over again. By the morning you’ll be fine, you’ll have let out everything you needed too. But between then and now, it’s a matter of mentioning the wrong words or seeing an intriguingly designed building that could trigger those pesky tear ducts.

So you listen to Yuri go on and on about this guy, all his techniques and what she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about since she last saw him. His number is already saved in her phone under a very inappropriate name, but you expect nothing less from her. 

You love her for it. For this. 

For knowing what you need to stay afloat right now and not allowing you to throw the anchor overboard with your leg chained to the end.

You really fucking hate goodbyes. 

You’re staring at him. 

Like, full on, no bars held, staring at him. 

And Jungkook’s pretending he doesn’t notice.

You’re sitting in your chair and he’s back in his beside you at greenhouse cafe. Your half done painting of pink flowers sits in front of you, his laptop screen’s filled with this week's newly assigned ‘Studio Portrait Techniques 1’ homework. 

His half finished coffee on his table. An empty pastry bag on yours.

His hands on his keyboard, yours gripping a brush.

And you’re staring at him. 

He’s hoping it’s because this is the first time you’ve seen him since Nel left. 

But it’s probably to do with the fact that he hasn’t looked at you once today. Or the fact that he’s barely spoken at all when he usually can’t seem to shut up when it’s been more than 48 hours since he last saw you. 

Because it’s also the first time he’s seen you since he was with Adaline, imaging she wasn’t Adaline.

“You’re acting weird,” you say.

“No I’m not,” he responds a little too quickly, eyes still focused on his computer.

Yes he is. He really, totally is. 

“Yes you are, you won't look at me and you’ve barely said two words since I got here.” Well your knack for observancy is still intact.

Normally that's a good thing, but right now?

“Did I do something wrong?”

No. No you didn’t.

He did.

He let his emotions get the best of him in a moment of weakness. He let himself become so overwhelmed with feelings he isn’t allowed to have. He let them win for a single night.

And now if he isn’t paying the goddamned consequences. 

After that night with Adaline, Jungkook had woken up filled with regret. He’d crossed a line he didn’t even know he should have drawn in very dark, very permanent ink.

For letting himself, just for one moment, imagine what it would be like to be with…

And things are harder than ever to shove down now. He can’t look even look at you without thinking about it. About what he did. What he wanted. 

Wants.

Fuck, he’s in over his head.

Jungkook forces himself to look at you, putting his years of social training and emotional masking to good use. It sure as hell came in handy during times like this.

Because you can never know. 

He can’t lose you because he's unable to get his shit together. It’s not your fault he feels like this. 

So he lies. Both to you and to himself, hoping it might help him believe it.

“Nothing’s wrong Dali, just focused on my work is all. We got assigned a big project on Monday and I’m planning out all my shoots.”

You look hesitant, like you can see right through his bullshit excuse that was only a half excuse because this project is massive. 

“If you say so,” your tone implying you don’t believe him, but thankfully, you let it go and lean closer to him to see. He pretends his breathing doesn’t hitch, “What’s the project?”

“It’s my final assignment for a class, I have to do a series of five portraits. Each one with a different style, capturing a different emotion, and they all have to be of the same subject to show the true versatility of my work. It’s easy to make things look different when it’s different people being photographed,” he explains.

Therefore, this assignment, and all of its working parts, is huge. He’s glad it’s due in the middle of December because it’s going to take him almost a month of planning to get it all together; backdrops, concepts, costumes, previsualization, focal lengths, props, equipment, lighting setups, etc. And then when the planning is over: to shoot, narrow down and edit. 

But that’s the point of it. To have the students demonstrate they know how to effectively expand on the definition of a ‘portrait’ instead of having one concept in mind and sticking to it. 

‘To broaden your creative approaches to seemingly simple constructs,’ as his professor would say.

He loves the way this professor does assignments. How she layers them so that not only does he learn how to shoot multi-concept ideas for the same project type, allowing him to add to his creative portfolio, but they also force him to break out of the expected conclusions for an idea and think outside the box. 

“Oh wow, that is a lot,” you say. Because you understand long running projects. 50 hour paintings don’t just happen in a day. “Do you have any ideas yet?”

“Yeah! I have them all already, actually,” he turns his computer towards you and you see a point by point list of summarized ideas.

- Bright and bold - happy, bright smile, colourful gels - Black and white, soft light: gel or bounce? Silk diffuser  - profile with water falling on face - relieved - Focused on passion - candid, regular colour. Diffuser? Or silk flag? - Normal colour profile, stark lighting - serious, front facing body, profile facing left, no visible clothing, “regal” _|(_*-*)>_. Flag.  - Mysterious - black background, white smoke, barely visible model, lower half of face painted black, upper half white, striking purple eyes (contacts?). Flags. Gels? 

“I’m really excited for this project,” he says, “it’s just the prep that’s going to take a while. Getting it all mapped and planned out. It’s mostly concepts right now.”

You nod, understanding once again. Though very different mediums, visual arts and photography are similar in many ways. 

“Adaline going to be your model?”

It doesn’t surprise him you think that, but he has no intentions of ever using Adaline for assignments or homework. 

“Actually, I… uhh…” he trails off. Jungkook’s trying to get the words out, he is. But they’re surprisingly difficult for some reason, and getting caught in his throat. 

Which makes his earlier anxious state come back in full force. 

It shouldn't be this difficult. It won’t be the first, second or fifth time he’s asked you.

Get the words out Jeon. Put on your professional face, this is nothing new.

He fails, instead, his voice comes out barely above a whisper as he says, “I was going to ask you if you would.”

You somehow hear him. 

“Me?” you look dumbfounded. 

“Yes, you.” He’s always used you for homework assignments before, so he’s not sure why all of a sudden this is surprising. Maybe because it’s a final assignment versus a weekly one? The effort will be greater? 

“But you have Adaline? I assumed that she would take up the position of model when you guys started going out.”

Oh. That makes more sense. 

But that is one mistake he won’t be making again, because he did ask Adaline. 

Once.

It was recent, Nel was still here and he didn’t want to disturb you because of that. Plus Jungkook was just trying to get a jump on his upcoming assignments anyway, taking a page from your book.

So he asked Adaline. And she leapt at the opportunity, like he expected.

What he didn’t expect, was when she essentially directed, staged, lit and posed every. single. shot. so that she would look her best. 

All he did was click the capture image button when she said too. 

And after the shoot, before he could even think to look at the pictures, Adaline was already there, holding his camera, going through them and deleting any picture she deemed ‘ugly.’

He was left with less than 20 images from the shoot where he was ordered to take over 200. And she even made him switch out one of the three he narrowed down for one she liked better. 

So no, he would not be asking Adaline to model. 

Ever again.

“Nah. You’re a lot easier to work with because you don't care how the pictures turn out, and let me do my thing. Adaline cares a bit too much, and has to have approval on all of them before I submit.”

You snort. “Seriously? Is she that self absorbed?” a quirked brow places itself on your face to match the smirk now on your mouth.

That’s new.

Your tone towards Adaline has always been neutral, if not a bit sharp when he talks about her. 

But this one? It’s like you know her, and knew she was like that, but didn’t know it was this severe. 

Adaline is very popular...maybe you two met and it didn't go well?

It certainly sounds like you don’t like her, if those six words were anything to go by. Which, he guesses they shouldn’t, but he knows you well enough by now to know the difference.

And if he’s honest, that wouldn’t shock him in the slightest. You two are nothing alike, and thank god for that. 

He covers for Adaline, like any boyfriend would. Though it stings a little bit.

“She’s just careful about what images could be leaked to the press. Can’t really blame her for that.”

Your face changes minutely, as if a second of understanding passes through before you turn to go back to your painting, and mutter, “no, you can’t,” placing a splash of pink on a flower. 

He returns to his work as well, switching the portrait assignment out for a different one. He needs to get his mind off it for a while before circling back. 

And the fact that you didn’t answer him. 

Deciding on a Design and Visual Culture assignment due next week, he dives in head first, resuming his earlier state of focus and avoidance.

Jungkook’s editing a picture when you stretch. 

You often hunch over your work, so you try to stretch every 30 minutes or so. Your arms are in the air and he catches a peek at the nearly finished floral study. 

They’re some kind of vibrant pink dangling flowers, and you’ve captured the likeness of them quite well, to no surprise of his, so he goes to compliment it but you beat him to the punch.

“Shots blurry.”

Jungkook does a double take at his laptop screen. He’d spent the better part of 40 minutes editing the image and hadn’t noticed that.

Because it’s not. It’s perfectly crisp and clear.

When he looks back to you, you have a shit eating grin on your face. 

Ah, he knows that look. 

You love to tease him about little things like that, giving him mini heart attacks. ‘Pay back for that first day,’ you claim. 

Well…

Two can play this game, so he plays off your comment.

“Oh, you're right. Thanks,” and he switches to another image. 

Your grin falters but you recover quickly.

“No problem.”

See, while you know how to playfully harass him about his pictures, Jungkook knows how…particular you are about your colours. How they need to be labelled correctly instead of by their umbrella terms like ‘blue’ or ‘red.’ Because blue or red could mean any one of the dozens of ‘sub colours.’

‘It’s not blue, it’s cerulean,’ you’d remark. 

‘That’s not red, it’s burgundy,’ you’d correct him.

You’re always correcting him, and it makes his pants tighten a little bit every time. But that’s on the other side of the line he does not cross anymore. A nice, big, fat, permanent, protective line. 

Jungkook settles for a more subtle method of attack. Using this little fact and your ridiculously extensive knowledge of flowers against you. 

He never thought the defense and attack lessons his father put him through would come in handy like this. But he’s glad for them now. It was the only time he could ever outsmart you.

He gestures to your canvas. “Those pink flowers are pretty, what are they called?” 

“Their common name is Lady’s Eardrop. And they’re magenta.”

Hook, line, sinker. 

He doesn’t even have to try, you walk right into it every time.

“Lady’s eardrop? That’s a weird name…do they come in other colours besides pink?”

You don’t look up as you reply. 

“Magenta, and yeah. Some are plum and magenta, some are a buttery white and magenta, and then some have this like, almost dark tangerine hue, but they’re a different type, longer. Not the same as those,” you point with the end of your brush to the greenhouse, where the fully magenta lady’s eardrop sits in the window. 

“And are these pink ones your favourite?” he’s really trying his best to keep a straight face as yours contorts with an eye twitch at every use of the word.

“They’re. Magenta. And sure, but the plum ones are pretty too.”

“Noted, the pink lady's eardrop are your favourite among eardrops.”

You break, turning to him, voice raising in minor annoyance. Jungkook bites his cheeks to keep a smile at bay.

“They are magenta. Not pink. Pink entails a lighter hue, there’s more titanium white in pink. That,” you point again, “is very clearly, magenta.”

He has to. 

He can’t help it. 

You’re sexy when you're assertive, he thinks. Tip toeing on that nice, big line.

But also hilarious. 

“Same difference.”

He can see the fire in your eyes blaze.

“No, not ‘same difference,’ they’re magenta!”

He’s leaning in. “Pink,” eyeing your lips as you speak. 

You lean in too, enunciating every syllable to prove your point. “Ma-gen-ta.”

Your noses are mere inches from touching. 

“They’re pink, Van Gogh,” he backs off before he does something stupid that he’ll regret, “Don’t get so invested.”

You back off too, sass still very evident when you reply, “They’re fucking magenta, asshat. Two completely different colours and you’ll label them as such around me.”

You’ve always had a mouth on you. One you aren’t scared to use when necessary, especially around him. So he doesn’t push any farther, knowing he’s already gotten what he wanted and then some. 

But also because sitting has become slightly uncomfortable. There was a stiff breeze, he tells himself.

Thank god for baggy, oversized hoodies. 

Returning once again to his work, he puts an elbow on the table and places his hand on the left side of his face to hide the massive smile that’s trying its best to turn into a smothered laugh.

Unfortunately for him, he lets his Princely guard down around you and so he forgets to force it down to an uncomfortable degree like he would at the palace. His laugh slipping out as a strangled noise and he quickly turns it into a cough, hoping you don't notice. 

But you do, because it’s you. Of course you do.

And the look on your face is priceless.

“You did that on purpose!”

“What?” he says way too high pitched. “Nooo, I would never, one hundred percent intentionally, say pink just to get back at you for pointing out the non-existent blur in my perfectly clear picture.”

He can see you trying to control your features, can see you failing and giving up by facing your canvas again, smiling to yourself.

“I was wondering how many times I could get you to say it. I think that was somewhere around ten? Gotta be a new record.”

You roll your eyes at him, but your quirked mouth remains. 

“You’re such a dick,” you quip.

“Yet, you like me anyways.”

You mumble something incoherent.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Awe, c’mon now. Fess up.”

A pause, before, “I said I just remembered I don’t know your favourite colour.”

No you most certainly did not, but he’ll let it slide.

“Black.”

“Ugh, boring.”

“What?”

“Boring,” you say again with absolutely no hesitation and proceed to grace his eyes with your own. “And technically not a colour. Black’s a shade.”

Jungkook offers up a non-smothered chuckle, saving his throat from further shenanigans.

“Whatever, Seurat, it’s still black. What about you? What’s Miss High and Mighty All Knowing of Colours’ favorite?”

“It’s still a shade,” you repeat.

“It’s still my favourite. Answer the question,” he presses. 

You give him an unimpressed stare. 

“Violet. Royal violet. The one your dad wears a lot,” your expression softens to one of wonder as you continue. Like you didn't just refer to the King of the nation you live in as ‘his dad’ so casually. “And when it’s not that, it’s this bright yellow. Like sunflowers or daffodils. Or the colour leaves turn in the fall when the light hits them from above just right.”

It’s Jungkook's turn to stare now. You look lost in your own head, envisioning the colours you describe, seeing them dancing in your eyes. And he can’t help himself, you glow when you speak about something you're passionate about.

“Why two?” 

“Why not?” you answer, still dreaming, colours swimming in oceans of thought. Your voice is almost whimsical. “Don’t you get bored of one colour for too long? It’s nice to switch things up every now and then.”

His reply brings you back down to earth, albeit slowly.

“Red.”

“Hmm?” you touch ground.

“If you won’t accept black, then red. The rich dark one, like blood.” He chose the first colour that came into mind, not really caring which one. 

He did like red. Red looked good in many ways. On cars, clothes, lips...

But he chose the first one that popped into mind because after hearing your favourite colours and the reasons why, he started to like them more than all the others too.

“Red’s a great choice, strong,” you say, allowing him the blanket term just this once.

“Thanks.”

There’s a moment of comfortable quiet between you before you break it.

“When do you need me for the shoot?”

Jungkook’s eyebrows find his hairline. 

That was a yes, right? You’re saying yes?

“Uhm…soon, I’ll let you know the specifics when I do.”

“Sounds good.”

He was going to leave it at that, but adds, “Thanks, Y/N.”

He hasn’t said your name since the assembly. 

Always nicknames when talking to you. Always. 

Never your name. 

Not once in two months. Almost three.

You—

An inhale.

You…like it.

The way it sounds coming from his lips.

Exhale.

Chapter Eight: Photo Shoots and Blasphemous Discoveries

A/N 2: She's shorter but chapter 8 is like 11k so far, so I hope that makes up for it!

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

<- Back

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

The New Heights Podcast

Pairing: Nick Bosa x Rockstar!Reader, Travis Kelce x Sister!Reader, Jason Kelce x Sister!Reader

Summary: As her situation with Nick Bosa continues to garner unwanted attention, she decides to go on her brothers' podcast to distract away from the news. But all it does is fan the gossip flames.

Travis and Jason were grinning like idiots, clearly thriving off the chaos they were about to cause.

The second the cameras started rolling, Jason kicked things off.

Jason: “Alright, we got a very special guest today.”

Travis: “A legend. A star. An NFL Girlfriend™—”

She groaned. “We are not starting with that.”

Jason: “Nah, nah, we’re starting from the beginning.”

Travis: “The Sports Car incident.”

She sighed, rubbing her temples. “Oh, my God.”

Jason: “Did you or did you not make an entire music video about Nick Bosa?”

She gave them both a deadpan look. “Technically, I made a music video about a car.”

Travis: “Uh-huh.”

Jason: “And technically, you filmed it with Nick Bosa.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Yes. But it was art.”

Travis: “Right. ‘Art.’ That’s why you climbed all over him like that.”

She threw a stress ball at him.

Jason: “So then, after the Sports Car disaster, y’all decide to do the GQ Couple’s Quiz—”

Travis: “While not being a couple.”

She sighed. “I don’t know why people thought that meant something.”

Jason: “Because y’all were literally flirting for 15 minutes straight?”

Travis: “And because Nick basically said his type is Nick Bosa.”

She buried her face in her hands.

“Can we talk about anything else?”

Jason: “Oh, absolutely not.”

Travis: “Now, here’s my personal favorite moment—the that’s my girl incident.”

She groaned. “I hate you both.”

Jason: “For real, though. That was smooth.”

Travis: “Like, did he even tell you he was gonna say that?”

She shook her head. “No. I found out the same way everyone else did.”

Jason: “So, what happened after?”

She smirked. “I texted him ‘really dude?’ and he just said ‘figured you already knew’.”

Travis: “Nah, that’s crazy.”

Jason: “So y’all are together.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Define together.”

Travis: “Oh my God.”

The episode dropped, and the internet exploded.

NFL Memes (@NFL_Memes): “Nick Bosa’s ‘that’s my girl’ was apparently news to his own girlfriend. Incredible.”

PopCultureBuzz: “She really tried to dodge, but Travis and Jason weren’t letting her go LMAO.”

TMZ Sports: “Nick Bosa & [Her Name]—confirmed? Kinda? Maybe? Who even knows?”

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again no problem 7/15/2025

unprecedented levels of niceys

listening

yu peng chen (of genshin impact soundtrack fame) did a soundtrack for the big weird mysterious every-game-mode-at-once netease open world martial arts mobile game. variously translated as “cold against the water” or “reverse water cold” or “adverse water cold”? this is the title track, if you told me this was an album for a scrapped genshin impact bonus area in liyue I would believe you. really fascinating melding of classic martial arts movie music in specific, regional chinese styles with a western golden age of hollywood swashbuckling adventure movie soundtrack sensibility. i can hear a bit of james newton howard’s treasure planet soundtrack, but i feel like most adventure music of this seafaring style is pulling from erich wolfgang korngold at its root.

and i spent a lot of time on this tag meme playlist so im plugging it again. everything in here (except the intermission) can be graphed on a triangle of “SOMEBODY COME FUCK THIS (GAY)” and “groovy” and “slinky”

-

reading

not a reading heavy week but here are two long reads, one from mcmansionhell writer kate wagner about brains, coping mechanisms, maps, charts, and graphs. chart of all time from the article below

in the other article, some truly bonkers sports white collar crime. i feel like the car racing saying “if you ain’t cheating you ain’t trying” especially applies to all horse sports. really crazy paragrah here that will stick with me for a bit, after a discussion earlier in the article about how temperament plays a big part in polo ponies

OR NEARLY 10 years, Meeker, Gutierrez, and Cambiaso lived by their golden rule: Sell the offspring, keep the clones. As the horses matured, Cambiaso’s herd of Cuarteteras and other cloned greats started to dominate high-goal polo. As a source of genetic material, Cuartetera had more than proven her worth, overperforming even in the context of other clones. “The problem with cloning—and we don’t know why this is—but some horses have the innate ability to pass along genetic qualities that make them amazing polo ponies. And some you clone and they’re not the same horse,” says the veterinarian Scott Swerdlin. “We don’t know why that is, but for sure Cuartetera has been very successful.”

-

watching

Shall We Dance? (1996, Masayuki Suō). A bored accountant spots a beautiful woman in the window of a ballroom dance studio. He secretly starts taking dancing lessons to be near her, and then over time discovers how much he loves dancing. His wife, meanwhile, has hired a private detective to find out why he has started coming home late smelling of perfume.

my GOD is Kōji Yakusho hot. saw this in person at the museum of fine arts! they’re doing a kurosawa series throughout the late summer/early fall, and i wanted a lower stakes movie that wasn’t near and dear to my heart to see if i liked the venue and crowd or if it was going to be an unpleasant experience. a movie i would not feel bad walking out of if people got shirty about my mask. you know how it is. anyway had a good time! 👍

if i had seen this on my tv in my living room i don’t know that i would have finished it. i think the technical chops of this movie were certainly there: really beautifully shot, lovely lighting especially in the night scenes and low-lit venues, big dancefloor scenes never felt crowded or claustrophobic. it makes sense for a movie about dancing, but the sense of rhythm and flow from scene to scene and the timing of the jokes was very very good.

i think it was operating on a different storytelling mode than i was expecting bc i don’t watch a lot of nineties romcoms. the story was not precisely what i expected or wanted, and the ending of this romcom drama did not hit me like i wanted it to hit me. i feel like im really damning it with faint praise when i really did enjoy watching a comedy with a small theater audience, but not all movies are perfectly tailored to my taste, unfortunately

-

playing

harvested another eevee as i toil away in the fields. the little teefies are really getting me

realized that after exploring and doing puzzles, my favorite part of genshin is leveling up characters. hate when they’ve put the most thought into making sure the things you can pay real money for feel good. so i pulled for funsies and got one of the 4⭐️ i don’t have yet and completely maxed out fischl’s constellations after five years of playing. i have not had good luck with getting any of the natlan 4⭐️but i don’t want to complain (rare i know) bc i have had otherwise such decent luck with 5⭐️ pulls this version.

-

making

im going to continue the bit (showing this dress as a pile of loose fabric) until morale improves (mine. bc i had to extract the bust panel and redo it and it’s still not set properly). hand sewing gathers is a right bitch. this past week at work i toiled away at work putting in six buttonholes (poorly), tacking down various pieces of ribbon to each other, and installing various pieces of ribbon. i have the bodice Together and the sleeves sewn, but i do not have the sleeves or the aforementioned bane of my life bust piece set yet. i also have not attached the skirt to the bodice bc i want to make sure the vertical skirt seams line up perfectly with the bodice panels bc if they don’t i will (remembers i can’t kill myself if i want to wear this dress) walk into the sea and return at some later date

[saintvainglorious]

Fics I Enjoyed in January - DC Comics Fic Rec List Part 2

I am still neck-deep in DC fandom this month and the fics have been so so good. Unlike last time, I am too tired to write mini summaries/reviews, so I'm going to feature my favorite quote from each fic instead.

My first DC Comics fic rec list is here!

Floor Plans by @oh-mother-of-darkness (Teen & Up, 1k, 2016) “I really didn’t want to die,” he finished. “I was kind of hoping if I laid here long enough, I would remember what that felt like.”

Losing two brothers in six months takes an emotional toll.

almost right by @bitimdrake (Teen & Up, 3k, 2020) He desperately wishes that he didn’t know what Dick’s cheekbone feels like under a gauntleted fist.

Bruce sucks in a breath, hand raising to fix the cowl. Dick flinches back.

but more with love by @danishsweethearts (Teen & Up, 3k, 2022) Dick wakes up one morning, groggy from a dream that he thinks might’ve been about the circus and also about his favourite car and also about how lonely he is, and realizes that he can’t remember what his mother’s voice sounds like anymore.

O Robin, Robin, wherefore art thou Robin?

The Mechanics of a Hug by @sohotthateveryonedied (General Audiences, 4k, 2017) “You know… that crushing sense of depression? Like,” Dick chews his lip. “It’s. A physical weight. Makes it hard to breathe?” “Yeah,” Tim says, soft. He smiles, wryly. “I sort of hoped you didn’t, though.”

“So,” Tim ventures. “It's… what, a cuddle pollen?” Bruce just shrugs. “Something like that.”

No Pain, All Gain by @sohotthateveryonedied (General Audiences, 1k, 2020) Tim’s eyes go even wider. “You stole my organs?” “Technically,” Jason chimes in, “the doctors stole your organs. We just gave them permission.”

Bruce checks Tim’s IV. “Are you in any pain? Do you need more morphine?” Tim’s pupils are so wide that only the faintest ring of blue can be seen. He watches Bruce the way a five-year-old watches cartoons. “I’m all good, B-dog. All Gucci, like we cool teens say." His words are slurred almost beyond recognition, but Tim doesn’t seem to notice or care. "I could fight Superman right now.”

The Wind Sits in the Shoulder of Your Sail by @birdchildsnest (Teen & Up, 7k, 2020) “Oh my god. Bruce. I can’t even tell if you’re serious. When everybody finally eats the rich—they’re going to eat you first.”

At least, back then, Tim had barely been a teenager. He could almost forgive his own volatility. And he’d been smart enough (scared enough?) not to tell Jack that he didn’t need him. What was his excuse now? Bruce was his dad (at least, in the legal sense), but (surprise, surprise) it turned out that Tim wasn’t any better at being a son. Or Tim and Bruce still have some things to sort through after the adoption.

I Left My Conscience On Your Front Doorstep by @dustorange (Teen & Up, 21k, 2022) He doesn’t want to be loved if being loved is like this.

"I think I'm leaving," Dick whispers. "I think I'm not coming back."

bad boys bad boys (whatcha gonna do) ♫ by @drakefeathers (Teen & Up, 20k, 2014) "They live their lives thinking they can charge through the city with the right to hurt and kill and destroy as many lives as they want. And they do it all without a shred of remorse." “But—” Damian begins, brow furrowed in confusion. “Isn’t that like you?”

a Jason and Damian as Batman and Robin AU!! featuring a bunch of graffiti, a rival dynamic duo, and Cat Jason (a cat named Jason).

The Biggest Mistake by @oh-mother-of-darkness (General Audiences, 1k, 2016) “I could ground him anyway, if it would make you feel better.” “He only said it because I called him ‘a garbage can so ineffective it actually became garbage.’”

"You know what really needs to be addressed? Bruce's truly terrible treatment of Damian." -Me, on a daily basis

been a number and a name by @wynterstars (Teen & Up, 35k, 2023) “Turns out if you just say ‘spacetime’ until people’s eyes glaze over they don’t really question anything you say. Also, somehow nobody expects me to be able to actually do enough math to explain it.”

On a field trip, Robin has a close encounter with the newest super in Metropolis, only to discover the hard way that Superboy secretly works for Lex Luthor. They agree to work together on a plan to free Superboy from Luthor’s hold, but Robin isn’t sure how far he can trust him—and his developing feelings only make things more complicated.

clean it like you mean it by @wynterstars (Teen & Up, 70k, 2024) "Wait, ugh, you're not my dead dad, right? If I'm getting a dying vision of my dead dad I want a do-over because he suuuuucked."

When Gotham's crooks have to scrub down their lairs, who do they call? Jason Todd, Gotham's first and only underworld crime scene cleaning specialist. He's spent his life dodging the Bat, but after a chance encounter he saves Robin's life. Tim Drake finds himself drawn to the conflicted rogue, and soon Jason becomes Robin's street informant. But they can only stay on opposite sides of the law for so long before something breaks.

3:16 by @wufflesvetinari (Teen & Up, 70k (WIP), 2023) “Try to decouple one thing from the other. I’m proud of you, but ice cream isn’t my grand statement about whether you’ve been good or bad today. Good things are good. Happiness is precious. Sometimes you just want caramel chocolate chip.”

The knife pushes thin along Dick’s carotid artery, cupping the indent between neck and jawline—forcing him to angle his chin. The metal is warm, pulled with execution speed from under Damian’s pillow. “Okay,” Dick says quietly, tracking the intricacies of his own heartbeat—counting the space between breaths. “Guess I did need a shave.” (With faltering steps, Dick and Damian become Batman and Robin.)

wolf-king of rome by @mysterycitrus (Not Rated, 25k, 2024) “You go after Joker, but you don’t kill him, because it’s not about the Joker dying, it’s about Bruce breaking his code for you. It’s about Bruce loving you enough to change himself for the worse. It’s about your idea of grieving.”

Jason doesn’t fear Dick Grayson. Fear itself has changed shape for him, since his return from the Pit - it tastes of dirt in his mouth, of drowning, of fire and blood and laughter, more than a tangible face. Still, he’d be stupid not to be cautious. Dick liked playing on an uneven field, and would do anything to keep him off balance, so he just had to stay focused. That’s the nature of the armistice, both waiting for the other to make a move. It’s like balancing on the head of a pin.

Declensions by @dustorange (Teen & Up, 13k, 2018) “Do not tell them your name. Do as I did to survive. I lied. I have always lied. Make one up. Do not let them have you. Say your name is…is…is…Richard Grayson. Or something. They are going to steal you; do not give them anything to steal.”

“My father,” Dick says, “worked the rope. It cut him. His hands were never clean.”

Passiontide by @bigdvmnhero (Teen & Up, 5k, 2025) Despite its faults, the day had tried to be good. He felt young, like someone's son.

On the 96th day Bruce didn't call, Dick remembered their old game. Three things he knew: 1) In three months, it would be Dick's death anniversary; 2) Bruce was still missing his check-ins; 3) Here Dick was, persisting. Imagine the things I'd survive, Dick thought distantly, if I loved Bruce less. Or: Agent 37 and his various crises of faith, on Day 277 at Spyral, Day 150, and Day -0.

the time you won your town the race by @silverwhittlingknife (Teen & Up, 4k (WIP), 2022) Tim. Tim is Dick’s. Death sharpens, clarifies these things. Who will receive the body, decide on the funeral, receive condolences, make all the decisions that matter. No one has questioned it, not even Tim’s friends. There’s a terrible clarity about death. If Dick said, let’s burn everything he owned, Alfred would do it.

He doesn’t know exactly what Tim would say. But he knows what Tim would do. Tim dies. Dick doesn’t take death for an answer. A Red Robin 12 AU.

door, opening by @cowboysorceror (Mature, 70k (WIP), 2024) Dick, with the keys to every locked door Jason has ever tried to open, tucked inside the cradle of his skull; all of that, snuffed out like a candle.

It’s barely audible, but he knows what he heard. A short, four-note whistle, chirping down – E, C#, then jumping up to A, F#, a little trill on the finish. He waits a moment, head turned slightly towards the dim shapes of storage containers between him and the ramp, eyes straining against the blackness. Long, stretching seconds. There it is again. His gloved hand, prickling with cold, closes into a fist. It’s a wood thrush. A small North American songbird that doesn’t sing at night, doesn’t live in the city. He knows what it means. It means hold, steady, not yet. It means wait for me, I’m behind you.

[violentlilies]

On Anon since I cannot ask this from my sideblog, but do you think that the hyperfocus the fandom has on Slaneesh being as this sex deity in Warhammer fan spaces comes from the perceived connection between Slaneesh and queerness?

I ask because I've seen you talk about similar things in the comments about how Fulgrim was presented; I feel like those issues with understanding Slaneesh also come from how Fulgrim was written being corrupted by them.

Cause, yes Slaneesh has as sexual aspect to them, but it feels like that is all people talk about when discussing it.

Ok. LOOOONG answer so strap in

Well I technically don’t blame them for focusing Slaanesh on sex given that the authors themselves did write Slaanesh as “the sex god” and focused her on “degeneracy” - the word itself being a fascist dogwhistle used against sexual liberation, queerness and many more.

I’m going to post the first part of my essay on this soon but while as a fandom we can analyze Slaanesh from a non-problematic perspective, the way the authors wrote her is focused on “degeneracy” - the (false) concept of which being the only umbrella that fits all slaaneshi things: addiction, sex, sexual perversion, “artistic perversion”, sex crimes, immoral sexual acts, bodily mutilation (the fact that piercings and tattoos are included here in canon is also big time problematic and adds on to the “fascist dogwhistle” pile by alluding to the popular fascist talking point that body modification is “self mutilation”, “destroying your perfect god given body”, “a violation of nature” and “degeneracy”. During Fulgrim’s apotheosis there’s a line where his tattooed skin peels off to reveal his original “perfect, unmarred” skin before he turns into a snake.).

This is the thing with Warhammer man, while I can see that the story was meant to be anti fascist and overall left leaning there are so many elements such as this which are confusing me because they end up supporting right wing viewpoints.

The story of Magnus is another such example: person born with a marginalized identity which is feared by society for being dangerous and demonic, fights for his right to be himself openly, is humiliated publicly, rejected by his family, forced into suppression, his father tells him to suppress himself for his own good yet he keeps fighting for freedom and independence on his own to prove that his identity isn’t dangerous but then the story ends up proving that he indeed is dangerous and demonic, his oppressive father’s cautionary tale became exactly true and he is kidnapped and enslaved by a demon. So what are we supposed to take from this? That when your authoritarian father tells you something you should listen without questioning him? When he tells you to suppress your authentic self just listen to him and assume he knows things you don’t? Be scared to explore your identity because you might ruin your life, everyone’s life and live in eternal regret ? Just accept conformity? Accept that you are inherently dangerous and bad? What are we even meant to take from this?

If I’m being very generous then we could say: support your queer kids and queer ppl otherwise they might fall into the hands of evil ppl who are waiting to take advantage of them at a vulnerable time, I guess? But being a psycher in 40k is still dangerous and demonic, supportive parent or not, so again, idk. Idk where we’re supposed to go here.

Maybe that’s the same take for Fulgrim’s story? Allow people to be themselves and explore themselves or they will be repressed and approach liberation in an unhealthy way and slip down bad paths like addiction, mix in with bad crowds or be taken advantage of? That’s the most generous way you can interpret this

What are we meant to take from Fulgrim’s story? Actually listen to your fascist dad because self exploration and sexual & artistic liberation will lead you to demonic possession and corruption and you will eventually turn into a rapist freak who’s crazy? Exploring art is dangerous? Experimenting with things and trying new things is dangerous? Pleasure is dangerous? Again, what is the message meant to be here

I feel like Warhammer has these core criticisms of the way the Emperor handled the primarchs like in the case of every traitor primarch, but instead of the moral of the story being “the emperor is wrong and fascist and the primarch was right to demand xyz” the moral of the story ends up being “the emperor is always right and the primarch was stupid and naive for wanting xyz, actually their fascist dad wanted what was best for them all along and they should’ve listened to him when he dished out rules with no explanation, no questions asked, life’s tough and unfair, you actually have to live repressed and neglected under fascism and can’t actually be free and happy or demons will kidnap you and society will collapse”.

We see a running theme of “a functioning society demands the sacrifice of your freedom and empathy and wanting all three at once is native and impossible”. - again GW, what are we meant to take from this?

Freedom, liberation, self exploration, self expression, love, happiness, gentle parenting, parental love, fairness, etc are seen as naive, impossible concepts which one should just accept not having because wanting such will lead you to the arms of demons, ruin, degeneracy, getting lost and social collapse - again, maybe I’m just not getting it but that’s the way the message of the Horus Heresy ends up coming across if I’m not doing mental gymnastics

It’s all under the umbrella of degeneracy and fear mongering about letting ppl do what they want to look for happiness and fulfillment in a fascist world under an oppressive neglectful narcissistic father.

Again, the most charitable interpretation I can find is “love your kids or else-“

But then again, the primarch’s falls, except for Lorgar, aren’t even them choosing chaos as an attempt to self liberate but instead being brainwashed and forced / tricked into chaos by magical objects or traps. Neither chose out of true free will. So you built up this whole thing of “cautionary tale for rowdy kids, listen to your dad”, but the kids did listen to their dad and their corruption wasn’t even their choice at all so again, where are we going with this? What are we trying to say?

Again, someone tell me if I’m stupid or I’m not getting it.

The reason Slaanesh is associated with queerness is because ppl are responding to an obvious dogwhistle. Wether the authors meant it or not, they did the thing.

Queerness is one of the first things under attack in a conservative crusade against “degeneracy” and many elements of said “degeneracy” echoed by conservatives are core elements of queerness and queer culture or intersect with it (given that queerness questions, deconstructs and opposes normative white supremacist society and its values which is conservative at its core) like being alternative, bodily autonomy, body modification, bdsm, art (mainly abstract, experimental and modern art), music (same adjectives as above), unique and unconventional fashion and style exploration, sexual diversity such as polyamory or orgies, defying gender norms, camp, taking up space - these are all parts and signifiers of “Slaanesh” the way it’s described in Warhammer.

The authors of Warhammer wanted to make a demon based on “degeneracy” but because “degeneracy” itself is a fake fascist concept made up to hate queer ppl it ended up just echoing queerness (+ a bunch of harmful stereotypes added on which conservatives think queer ppl do or want to do). If that makes sense.

The right-wing fandom is responding by being homophobic and seeing Slaanesh as a caricature and cautionary tale against queerness (which it is) and the queer fandom is responding by reclaiming Slaanesh and Fulgrim as symbols of camp, liberation and free expression, reflecting on their own journeys of living their truth, either with mental gymnastics or simply ignoring the negative aspects.

For me, as a queer person, I can’t do the latter. It’s too obviously a hitpiece against everything I am and makes a mockery out of everything I went thru as a queer artistic person from a conservative christian upbringing.

So many aspects of my journey of self liberation included dying my hair, experimenting with my style, bold makeup, experimenting with my sexuality and myself as a sexual person, wearing sexy clothes, getting deep into art, experimenting with abstracts, looking beyond what’s seen as socially acceptable by my conservative surroundings, unlearning purity culture, close mindedness and anti-intellectualism, letting go of the fear of exploring what is ultimately harmless parts of human existence and have only been demonized and stimgmatized by christianity and conservatives. Reading the Slaanesh story makes me feel like I did something wrong, like what I did was wrong and dangerous, like it’s leading me down a slippery slope where I will eventually end up a crazy evil criminal who hurts people, just like conservatives believe. It’s the whole “if we allow gay ppl to exist they will try to legalize sex with animals next,” argument brought to life.

And unfortunately as much as I love Warhammer I won’t gaslight myself, let other well meaning fans gaslight me or do mental gymnastics to avoid recognizing that clear aspect of the story.

It IS making me heavily uncomfortable because I feel “called out” about something I should not be called out about because I did nothing wrong. Exploring myself as a queer alternative person sexually and artistically isn’t wrong or dangerous. But the story is making me feel guilt and worry and triggering basically all of my traumas, especially religious and moral fears around being demonic, aligned with evil, immoral and mentally corrupted by being who I am. That I’m doing something wrong and if I wanted to “be on the right path” I needed to deny parts of myself and forego my own happiness for the sake of “common sense” and “doing what’s right”. The feeling that I had to choose between my own happiness and freedom vs the right thing. Which is simply wrong. And the story of Fulgrim and Slaanesh is retelling that very “cautionary tale”

It’s the reason you sadly don’t see me engage with that part of the Heresy story or Fulgrim as a character, despite me loving him so so much. It’s all too triggering because I just disagree with the whole notion of his story and I can’t go along and pretend that it’s just fiction, it means nothing, there is no message, I can’t see implications and I’m fine with all of this. At least not me personally.

Very important that I note that this take or stating the obvious fact that this is isn’t an attack to Fulgrim / EC fans, as I said, Fulgrim as a character is my favorite right up there with Konrad, but the story around him makes me so deeply uncomfortable because of all the things I listed and more that I can’t look past it or work within it. If you can, you do you. Every Fulgrim fan I’ve seen is queer, trans or both so if you can reclaim his story and vibe with it then I’m more then happy for you. So please don’t take this as an attack or an offense, all my grudges are with GW / Warhammer and their writing not the Fulgrim fandom. If you can find happiness, love and self expression in the story and it’s characters I’m happy for you.

I hope that gave you the answer you wished for anon. Stay tuned for my essay because it does deeper into this very thing, full Contrapoints style

[soulemnity]

Hello!!

I wanted to ask if you had any asl brother fanfictions??

I'm literally not even close to those episodes but I've seen so many spoilers and art about them that I'm already obsessed lmao

It's totally cool if you don't have any or just don't want to share, it just seems like you would know some good one lol

Hope you have a good day! 😁

SO SORRY FOR THE LATE RESPONSE tumblr hasnt been notifying me lately

there’s so many fics i’ve gone insane over i’d be overjoyed to share !!!!!

i don’t know if u or anyone else want to avoid major spoilers, but just in case, i put a red star (*) next to those that have them 😗

light up, light up - taizi

aaah taizi has so many great fics but this is one of my favorites; u can go thru all their op works to find more i didn’t list. it’s focused around sabo and is like a role reversal. definitely teared up

a little murder never killed anybody - loserlife592

family reunion !! asl expresses their ways of affection and boggles some minds. so cute……..

a song to bring you home - taizi

canon divergence—not sure how much u’ve seen, but it’s definitely still worth the read. it’s wonderful and cute and makes me ILL

without you by my side - capisback

ace and luffy get into a small scuffle; ace figures things out eventually. brotherly love….. oh im dead on the floor it’s wonderful

fish day (it takes a village) - hyperbolicreverie

luffy drags ace and sabo to a festival. they have fun, there’s cool villager dialogue that never fails to satisfy me, and cuteness

*all for one - missmungoe

okay i have a fair amount of alternate marineford fics but damn it i am nothing if not a sucker for good endings. read if ur fine with slight spoilers lol !! good bonding moments

soft and quiet and peaceful - whirlybird70

snow day….. just some nice fluff. can never go wrong with that

where the wild things are - space_ghost_with_the_most

FRIEND GHOST HAS LOVELY FICS !! u should check them out !!! 23k words of feral jungle children asl and it’s WONDERFUL

light up the sky (with you) - whirlybird70

luffy once again drags ace and sabo to have an adventure, this time with fireworks !! + makino cameo. it’s so cute the way they’re written…. !!

bedtime rituals - poisonstain

sweet n soft sickfic…… the series is about something different, this is a flashback, so u can check out the other fics in it if u’d like !

signal lamps - cowboy_emoji

ace and luffy catch fireflies, dadan and luffy talk a bit about ace. luffys his weirdly perceptive self; dadan continues to deal with them. love <3

*take a step in mine - soccersarah01

another alternate marineford—if ur fine with spoilers, it’s good ! it takes a sec, but sweet asl reunion <3

*time moves through you - lampalot7

technically only ace and luffy but i’ve reread this one so many times. it does have both marineford and gear 5 spoilers tho, so keep that in mind if u want to avoid them. time travel, little luffy cameo, AUGH it’s all so cute

*there is thunder in our hearts / you were always gold to me - taizi

these are also both alternate marineford + the latter gear 5, sorry 🫢 i think u get the gist by now

put your faith in what you most believe in - taizi

taizi just has lovely asl fics it’s insane. sickfic, sabo worries, but they both feel better in the end <3

here in spirit - lampalot7

GHOST ASL FIC !!!!! i’ve loved it for a while, and it inspired a few aspects of my own ghost au. made me cry……. god i love ghosts

close calls (or, monkey d. dragon’s no good, very bad day) - isntitlupintic

dragon’s perspective and focuses a lot on him, but there are some sweet asl moments !!! dragon saves the day !

[99problemsmysexualityaint1ofthem]

Introductions and Greetings

Hello mortals, yes, it’s me, Apollo. The god, the legend, and the most perfect specimen to grace the heavens and the earth combined.

Artemis tells me I’m being far too full of myself and to stop being so self absorbed. I think that I should add more.

But my demigod friends have convinced me into getting tumblr on Hephaestus’s patented phone so here I am.

Sun god gets tumblr

They call it the hellsite here

Isn’t that so cool?

Aren’t my haikus so amazing? Aren’t I amazing? Don’t bother answering, I know it’s the truth.

People I know:

@meg-mccaffrey-toa: Gremlin dumpster child I adopted (Peaches not sold separately apparently)

@the-great-emperor-commodus: I don’t think he likes me because I mixed up his husband. Has threatened to kill me. It’s okay though, I think he’s warming up to me

@artemiss-favorite-hunter: Megs adoptive aunt. Bad influence and very rude. I like her brother more and she likes my sister more so it works.

@reaper-of-men: My boyfriend <3 My god is he hot… and I would know a thing or two about being hot, considering I am… well… a sun god.

@piper-mclean-official: Piper McLean, her dad is hot even if Aphrodite has dibs. Still have a lot to apologize for after everything that happened.

@southernblondehealerwillsolace: My son :) He’s an awesome healer and really needs to take breaks and learn to SLEEP and EAT but he is a perfect child and I’m glad he’s given me a second, third, fourth, and probably fifth chance at being a good dad

@jasonlightninggrace: Thalia’s brother, my brother technically. Sorry about everything, I hope Elysium works out and I’ll try to convince Uncle to let me down there to visit.

@death-breath: Will’s boyfriend, one of my (adoptive) children.

@number1greekhater: My descendent. He’s okay but I fucked up with him, not sure what I did though :(

Naomi Solace (no rp yet): A past love. Very beautiful girl, even more stunning woman. Will says she misses me. I am sure it is a lie. One of the best lovers I have ever had, I think of her daily… but alas I am to scared to go to Texas and talk with her

OOC: I got bored so I made a rp account :D

Feel free to ask questions or for bad haikus, this can be during, before, and after TOA. Apollo is such an interesting (funny) character and so I thought why not (excuse my bad haikus I’m trying)

Also I feel like I should mention this but my Apollo is like… kinda pathetic. Lester type shit. You know.

Live laugh love Litpollo

Anywhoo my main is @goldengirlonthemoon and you can visit me there for kickass art work and fanfics and the unhealthy dose of ramblings!

[fandom-lover2]

Why For Art Thou Winchester

Plot: Now that she's living with Bobby, she's going to need a fake name. Choosing one is harder than you'd think

-image not mine-

“You guys are being impossible.” I groaned, slamming my head down onto the kitchen table before me. “It’s just a name.”

Opposite me, Dean continued to rifle through his box of cassette tapes, again. “Hey, I’m saving you from a life of embarrassment.” he defended.

Photos, done. Documents, ready. All that was needed was a last name.

“Remind me again why I can’t just be Winchester?” I asked, words muffled as I kept my face planted on the wood.

“Because Dean and I are kinda wanted by the FBI.” Sam replied from Bobby’s sofa, tying away on his laptop and he further fabricated my backstory.

I looked up, deadpanning my brothers. “And you two are the only people in the entire country to have the last name ‘Winchester’?”

Neither answered me, so I turned my gaze to Bobby for support.

The old grump just shrugged, continuing to read a lore book on goblins for a hunter in Arizona.

“What the hell are you wanted for anyway?”

“Take your pick.” Dean answered.

For another minute, he dug around the old shoebox, picking up and dropping cassettes when he didn’t like what he found.

“Jett?” Sam supplied, which earned a scoff from Dean.

“What’s wrong with Joan Jett? I love her shit.” I defended, which ended with me receiving Dean’s glare.

The quest for a cover name was seeming to be a lot harder than I thought. Or rather, Dean was making it harder than it needed to be.

Since I had technically just disappeared after the bodies of my half-brother and his mom were found, brutally murdered, news feeds were saying I had either killed them or was taken by the killer. Either way, enrolling me in Sioux Falls High tomorrow with my government name would send red flags through the national systems.

Hence, the cover name.

Dean was getting way too into it, trying to find me the perfect one and taking inspiration from 80s female rock stars. He was overthinking it, majorly.

Either the name didn’t match, or it didn’t sound cool enough, or sounded too “dorky” and would “lead to bullying”.

As it was, the cover story was I was the daughter of Bobby’s cousin who had recently died in a car accident. With him as the only family to take me in, I’d moved from Florida to live under his care.

Some of it was true at least.

“Andrea Jett sounds fine.” I tried again, ducking when Dean threw a cassette of hers at me.

“I’m giving you a reputation here, kid. It needs to be badass, make a statement.”

“It needs to blend in.” Bobby corrected.

I stuck my tongue out at Dean, and when he replied by flipping me the bird, I whined overdramatically, “Bobby, Dean is being mean to me.”

“You’re the one being a little bitch.”

“And you’re an asshole.”

“This is so much fun.” Sam spoke up, having turned his attention to watching us.

Dean and I both flipped him the bird, which he frowned at before returning the gesture.

“Don’t make me stand up.” Bobby warned, which had Sam, Dean and I all flinching before shutting up, passing silent looks to one another.

I glanced to the clock. We’d seriously been here and hour and a half trying to come up with a name. This was ridiculous.

“Do I even need to go to school? The world’s ending soon anyway. Shouldn’t I be enjoying my last few days, or helping you guys not break any more seals?”

Dean kicked my shin under the table.

“Ow! Asshole, what the hell was that-”

“The world ain’t endin’, and you’re goin’ to school.” he pointed at me sternly, emphasizing his points with timed jabs.

“But-”

“No buts!” three male voices spoke at once.

I broke out in giggles. “’Buts’.”

“Oh my god.” Sam sighed, turning back to his laptop.

“Oi,” Bobby called, and I looked up him. “School. No option.”

And his expression showed there would be no fighting him, and if he had to drag me in there and tie me to a chair, he would.

In two days, Bobby had done more for me than John had in the three years he’d known me.

He’d taken me clothes shopping, letting me pick out whatever the hell I wanted to wear. He’d given me my first driving lesson, telling me to ignore Sam and Dean in the backseat wearing bicycle helmets and offering less than helpful commentary. He’d taken the time to sit down with me and spent hours actually telling me about the monsters and crap of this world, not just barking out how to kill them.

He’d let me move things around in my room, bought the star projector I’d been eyeing when I thought he wasn’t looking, and I’d caught him studying every product in the feminine hygiene isle when I’d been trying on t shirts.

He doted on Sam, checking his stitches and cleaning his arms twice a day, rebandaging them with gentle hands. He’d spent almost all morning with Dean working on ‘Baby’ the car. He’d sat with the boys late into the night, whiskey bottle passed around as they updated him on the shitty situation of the world while I’d eavesdropped from the top of the stairs, falling asleep there and somehow waking up in my bed.

Sam and Dean relaxed around him, their hardass fronts dropping to them becoming regular 20 something year old boys. They joked, and let him take some of the burdens, and became human.

He was a good friend, a great father, and would be a strict but fair mentor if the time ever came that I wanted this life.

I didn’t have the years with him Sam and Dean had, but I had two more years of high school left and he made it clear I wasn’t going anywhere until then.

I stood up, taking the laptop from Sam, ignoring his complaints, and opened the page with my fake birth certificate.

I typed in two words, hit print, and handed back the laptop.

“Huh.” Sam commented.

The printer spat my document out and I bent to pick it up off the floor, handing it to Dean for a brief approval, not that I’d change it if he didn’t agree.

When he didn’t say anything but rather handed it back to me wordlessly with a smile somewhere between pride and apologetic, I made my way to Bobby’s side and handed him the paper, since he was the one with the false stamp.

He picked up the stamp, ready to just be done with this ordeal, but then his eyes caught the words and he stopped.

‘Name: Andrea

Middle Name: Jacqueline

Last Name: Winchester-Singer

Yes, I hated John, and for years had held onto the fact that I’d carried my mother’s last name and therefore had no connection to the man but through my blood.

But John wasn’t my only family. I had brothers now. Brothers who had risked their lives for me and had made sure I was taken care of, making no plans to leave me and Bobby anytime soon.

I had brothers who had fought like hell against everything Heaven and Hell were throwing their way and while they had made it clear I wasn’t joining their fight, I sure as well was ready to accept my role beside them as a Winchester.

But I also wasn’t alone anymore.

Yes, two days was not enough time, but it had been long enough to prove it would come.

Bobby would be my father, the man who nurtured me, raised me, kicked my butt when I didn’t want to do homework and stay up late helping me with assignments.

I had three people looking out for me now, three members of my family.

I was a Winchester. The men the monsters in the dark were afraid of.

I would raised by a Singer. The one people turned to for knowledge and guidance.

Bobby looked up at me. “You sure?”

I hadn’t been surer since the day I had discovered you could have ice -cream for breakfast and your teeth wouldn’t turn orange. If I ever ended up in the same place Mom did, that’d be the first thing I told her.  

I nodded. “It has a nice ring to it.”

Bobby blinked a couple times, then cleared his throat and bent his head, stamping my new birth certificate and falsely signing it with the date before my real birthday. “Good choice, kiddo.”

I smiled at him, watching as he blew on the drying ink before adding it to the folder of documents he needed to be able to sign me up for school tomorrow.

“Ok, I’m getting hungry. Burgers from that place in town?” Dean saved all of us from the moment of emotional awkwardness that followed, standing and grabbing his keys.

When Sam and Bobby agreed, he jerked his head for me to follow and headed to the front door.

I followed him, slipping on my new boots and grabbing Dean’s jacket. “Can I drive?”

“Ha! Never.”

Wayward Adjacent Chapter One: Who Are You

[ineedmycoffeerightnow]

So okay there's some arguments i hear from people why Home x Wally is not valid ship, so i decided to explain these and try to counterargument them! If you have an argument of your own feel free to write it in the comments :3

1)"This is incest! They like father and son to each other"

Canon of the show is that Wally didn't know Home before the he moved into him and also he like. A Building. If we're going to build on the show's lore Its would be just popular headcanon. Just because you see them as parent and child doesn't meen everyone does く⁠コ⁠:⁠彡

Some people are like to thing that Home is a creator of the show/his soul in there. I get it too, this theory KINDA makes sense, but still... We didn't see Wally acting like Home is his creator/getting revenge on Home for make their life hell (you can count worshiping as a sight but evidence is too weak), they are pretty chill with each other! Plus, it doesn't explain why Home is doesn't like humans, and from new update we learn that Welcome home is another world, so this theory is 99,99% is false i think

2) "Home is a building!"

Eah. LIVING building. With emotions and fears. Home is fully aware and sentient, it just so happened to have a different body then the rest of the puppets

3)"Home is abusive/evil!"

I understand why some people see them having Dynamic like this, but honestly I never saw it as inherently abusive? Maybe Wally is actually obsessed with Home, or maybe it’s the opposite, or they’re both crazy about each other, but it could also just that they act the way they do because of their self awareness. I do also think they’re overprotective of each other as well.

I just can’t see them *not* having any kind of close relationship, I mean Wally literally takes care of her, serenades him, and even blows them kisses and Home does similar gestures back at him! The feeling is mutual here.

3)"Wally is worshiping Home! Its unhealthy"

The only evidence of Home being worshiped by Wally is "so bellow" page.

I know technically it could’ve been used as evidence as Wally worshiping Home as a god but I think there are many other ways to interpret that drawing on the site… Like, I don’t think Wally is viewing her as some powerful entity, I think Wally is just obsessed with he. Not in a worshipping way but more like in a “you mean everything to me and I wouldn’t let anyone come between us” way. Also because of how Home’s eye’s are, the drawing could’ve easily been outside just as it could’ve been inside (we can’t really tell since it’s all black). And even if it was inside, I don’t think that means Wally can’t leave Home, honestly I don’t even think he’d want to anyway. They’re both mutually bonded to each other

3)"Wally/Barnaby is canon, so you can't ship Wally with Home"

First. Wally/Barnaby isn't confirmed canon. Yes, there have been many, and I mean MANY, hints at this ship. I personally think that in fact in near future it is going to be canon. Second. Im still allowed to do whatever i want with them. They are my comfort ship, they make me happy and it doesn't hurt anyone.

So, what's conclusion?

People like to think that their personal disliking of the ship is a valid point to bully shippers. They would make TONS AND TONS of excuses just to make others dislike it too. "They like son and father!", "They are abusive!", "This is proship, its gross!' despite not having evidence at all. Idk why ppl so scared to say "I don't personally like Home/Wally, its not for me" and go with their lifes. It much easier then to digging internet searching for art of them two and then show it to others saying: " LOOK HOW GROSS IT IS!!! SHIPPERS OF THIS SHIP IS TOTALLY UNHINGED!!!! How lucky we are not to be this stupid 😉😉😉"

It hurts. A little.

Life is so much better when you just not interact with things you don’t like, wish more people realised that tbh. Especially in fandom, because people get so mad over ships and headcanons when they could just…. Not interact? The more you seek out the content, the more it’ll appear in your feed because it’s how a for you page works. The algorithm shows you things it thinks you will like based off previous posts you’ve viewed……

Like I’m just shipping these silly little puppets together and making headcanons I’m not hurting anyone 😭

Thanks to @serillian for helping me with this one -⁠ᄒ⁠ᴥ⁠ᄒ⁠-

[balrogballs]

Omg I just saw you were part of the Narnia fandom and Ms Balls, thou art a woman of impeccable taste. Gun to your head, Lewis or Tolkien?

Hahaha no no, I wasn’t part of the fandom in a traditional sense aka I wasn’t on here, I just wrote a couple of fics for it in my mid teens. Also re your question, the choice would have been harder if Lewis stopped just before Horse and His Boy.

… but till now I can remember the day 10 year old me finished reading the Calormen/Tash/Tashbaan storylines and the very slow unravelling of complete disgust in me — a non-religious child with Muslim and Jewish parents — at how these books, which had such depth even in their simplistic prose, did such a deliberately horrid, revolting, and frankly lazy portrayal of “the Muslim country” and “their demon god” that as much as I liked Narnia and went on to like a couple of the other books, the memory of that first read means I’m frankly never going to put them in my faves list.

Like it’s not that I was an oversensitive child or even solely because of the mixed faith family thing, I was not even a very observant reader re diversity stuff, I was ten. Tolkien may have been a man of his time and there are tons of biases and stereotypes in LOTR but Calormen was just. Fucking mindblowing.

Like to me it went way, way past the general Genteel Orientalism of Tolkien and pals, and it was completely unnecessary — the rest of the narrative had a relatively simplistic style even as a Christian allegory, but the Calormen bits were so viciously visceral that little me was just like oh. Oh my god you specifically hate them, don’t you? Like you hate these people don’t you and then realising I was, technically, these people 🥲

[mannatea]

Knowing, a Rose of Versailles fanfic

Words: 8,129 words Summary: Oscar and André, the morning after the barfight. Pairing/Character: André/Oscar Warnings: None. Extra Info: This is for the lovely and perfect @nicetoart / @niceto169 whose beautiful art has once again come into my house and beat me up. Crazy that this keeps happening! This piece is based on two of her works: You'd love the stars & It's not my blood. Rating: T Genre: Friendship, light romance/attraction, yearning.

Special thank you to @trash-god for her keen eyes.

I hope you enjoy. 🌹

Notes/“behind the scenes” footage:

This was written based on the manga characterizations. This is true for almost everything RoV I write these days, but I feel the need to say it anyway.

--

When I conceptualized the story for this piece, I was so certain it was going to be a really short story told in Oscar’s perspective, but ultimately it feels really strange to know both sides of the story and not showcase them both, so this monstrosity was born.

My biggest goal in writing this is to destroy niceto169 (obviously), but also to try to show what might be going on in the heads of the characters she drew so thoughtfully. I hope I succeeded.

--

I’ve always been of the opinion that the kiss André gives Oscar after the barfight is important for a number of reasons. First of all, she reflects on this kiss literally years later, and holds it up in her head as an ideal standard—as something she’s looking for again. She compares other experiences to it. She even links the kiss back to André, and to such a clear degree I believe it’s impossible to say she was completely unconscious when it happened.

Conversely, we never see André think of that scene again on-page.

In my mind, this serves a great narrative purpose: showing that the kiss is something he gave her, not something he was trying to take from her (if that makes sense). It’s still not fully selfless, of course, but I don’t see it as a particularly selfish act, either.

--

If there isn’t yearning, is it really an OA ‘fic? No. Next question.

I tried to play a little with posture in this at points: her curling into him, shouldering him, him leaning toward her when they’re verbally sparring (to show that closeness). And also her looking away from him on the walk home, to show her awkwardness.

I was really happy to see that the movie mentioned where André might have been if his grandmother hadn’t taken him in (and if Oscar’s father hadn’t given her permission to do that), so I included it here, because there’s just no way André isn’t very aware of it.

There’s something SO interesting about Oscar, André, and Fersen all being tangled up together in this nonsense. I didn’t want to dive into it too much, but Fersen leaving the people who love him to worry is the reason Oscar went out drinking, so I had to include it.

The inhale/exhale component to the kiss features in both perspectives. Oscar, some years later, mentions the inhale/breathing in part of the kiss, and I wanted to mimic that here. From his perspective, then, he’s breathing in the things he loves about her, and then trying to give her support. From her perspective, it’s like he’s letting loose all the bad pressure that’s been building in her and then filling the space with gentler things.

I also made it two kisses: that first tentative initial touch, then something a little more solid (so not TECHNICALLY two kisses, but one kiss that “feels” separated because there are the two steps to it, if that makes sense).

Just really loved the imagery of the burdens Oscar bears being a yoke, and how oxen/horses tend to pull in teams. The way that leaves André to want to be the one hitched to her, sharing in that with her is just... OUGHHHH. I’m very normal about this! :D

André’s “moderate” comment/agreement is more about him acknowledging that she exists in the middle than it is the truth. He had no trouble carrying her for hours, after all. He agrees with “moderate” because he thinks it will make her happier to hear (and it does).

André’s guilt starts to settle in the moment he’s “home” because now he has to live with what he’s done and it’s the first time he’s ever done something so out of line.

Most of the injuries were taken from niceto169’s art or from the morning-after scene where André’s bandaged up. I don’t think he broke his arm or anything, since he was able to carry Oscar so long, but it’s probably badly bruised or strained. It helps that it’s his left, so it was carrying the least amount of weight.

I’ll never let it go that André said, “We sure are lucky they didn’t discover you’re a woman.” He says it casually but the way it’s linked to her hotblooded nature and how much he believes she looks like a woman, and how he knows her heart must be in anguish sometimes about all this is just. UGHHHH. It’s also a reminder of why André exists so closely to her all the time (as a bodyguard). After all, when she joins the French Guard, her father sends André with her because even he is aware that she might be in physical/sexual danger from other men.

I wanted to link those men touching her against her will with what André does, because I think he would draw that connection himself. Like he knows what he did is different and he’s not like those men, but it still feels awful to him that these things happened so close together. He doesn’t want Oscar to even unconsciously make that connection/doesn't want to be like that.

Oscar feeling guilty for losing her temper and getting André hurt (but never apologizing for it) was intentional. I’m deeply obsessed with the idea that when these two make big mistakes or do really stupid things, that they just let it go: I think seeing that as early as the barfight scene helps to build up the quick forgiveness/pretending it never happened-ness of the incident/poisoning scenes. Like, it establishes that this is the way things have always been between them.

Oscar’s also pretty emotionally immature in general I think, when it comes to personal relationships, but I don’t think she’s ignorant. She knows the barfight was her fault, but if she apologizes for it, she has to open that can of worms…and she’s not willing to do that/be vulnerable like that.

The “Are you a noble, too?!” line in the manga is wild to me, but it really makes sense. They’re basically the best-dressed people in the bar, and the way André keeps calling her by her name makes them seem like they’re equals to any bystanders.

I’m extremely obsessed with Oscar’s line in the manga: “Listen! You and I are both human beings. We belong to the same species! Merde, to hell with rank and status!” All while she’s heavy breathing, lmao. André’s cute little smile/chuckle about this is ADORABLE (you know he’s so charmed) but it pisses Oscar off more, because she IS a belligerent drunk and thinks he’s laughing at her idea, not at how cute she’s being.

Jericho is one of the oldest cities in the world with the oldest known defensive wall. Biblically speaking, we are told of the Battle of Jericho led by Joshua: the first Israelite victory in the Canaan Land. This isn’t a historically supported narrative, obviously, but in the Book of Joshua, the Israelites marched around the city’s defensive walls once a day for six days, and seven times on the seventh day. After the shofar (horn, oftentimes called a trumpet in more modern translations) sounded loudly, the Israelites all shouted together, and the city walls fell down. I really wanted this juxtaposition between Oscar and Jericho to feel strong. I went with “trumpet sound” because it’s such a common thread in Christian texts and is a phrase people may recognize.

The way “It’s not my blood” gives us a glimpse at the idea that Oscar might have known for sure there was a kiss, and that André had given it to her, just made me absolutely feral. I already said that it’s pretty clear to me she was somewhat aware of it, but the way this piece solidifies all the evidence is something I wanted to also capture with this story.

I really, REALLY wanted to explore the possibility that Oscar couldn’t quite determine if André had been the one to kiss her, or if she might have somehow kissed him. It makes her uncomfortable to think she might have kissed him, because she’s aware of the power she has over him (and fearful that if he returned it, it was only him giving into what she wants, rather than something he actually wanted to do). At the same time, the kiss she remembers is EXACTLY what she wanted/the brand of comfort she was looking for, and it seems impossible to imagine that André would just Know That: so she must have taken it. Probably.

I played with the idea of Oscar never realizing one way or another (because the blood being André’s doesn’t mean she knows who kissed whom, just that the kiss was real, rather than something her lonely mind made up to comfort herself) but ultimately decided to give her closure so that she at least can reflect on the experience as something fully positive for the rest of her life. This seemed the most reasonable approach, too, considering how she holds this up for years to come as some kind of Ideal.

(And later in life fully understands that gentleness/kindness is what she needs/finds fulfilling, and that is why it was so meaningful to her.)

The phrase “for some reason” (or a variant thereof) was used 6 times in this story.

Nanny/Granny blasting into the room ready to obliterate both of them was fun. I like to imagine they can’t ever get away with anything when it comes to her. She knows too much. Classic situation. She really does have eyes in the back of her head.

Ended this on a more positive/sweeter note because I am a kind person. Sort of.

Themes of knowing are literally everywhere in this story, hence the title, which OBVIOUSLY comes from Oscar’s iconic “The lips I know” lines.

--

I hope you all enjoyed the story (and maybe these little behind-the-scenes notes, too). Thank you for reading; comments are appreciated as always!

[vellichorom]

just some stuff I need to say and I feel like you would understand?seeing as you’ve been posting quite a bit longer than I have?

well uh

i started posting/joined the fandom just over a year ago and i feel as if I’ve kind of missed everything yk?

All of the fun events and threads with people were held just before i joined and now there’s just kinda, nothing

I mean there were one or two events in the past year but compared to all the things a few years ago like the polls, the collabs, i think there was even a game planned at some point with a bunch of peoples narrators, point is ,nowadays there’s barely anything going on and i guess I just feel like i missed out on it all. Even the discord servers I’m in are practically dead now.

(speaking of that one game i mentioned, i am aware it started out as a fic, but I can’t even read that now as I’m pretty sure it got removed to be remade and was never finished, please correct me if I’m wrong. I saw so much cool art for it back in the day and I never had/never will get context for)

I guess I just wish things were as good as they were back then. Maybe more events and threads could be made?but if no one participates/is interested then ,

I don’t know what to do and I feel like I can’t do anything to make things better again

Ah- apologies for going on a tad bit of a rant.

I’ll be going now

🪨 

ahh yes,, the phenomenon all fandoms & resurgences of fandoms go through after a couple years;

the excitement from the initial release BOOMS, communities form as a result, ideas generate at the speed of light- clock 0ut debuts, the fandom's most popular AUs bathe the yellow canvas in red & pink, reblog chains & similar events line the dashboards of dozens, collaborations abound- the fandom peaks for a good while ( & i'd say we had a great run considering we're still Technically a small & considerably obscure fandom ), running rampant, & then - like all good things, it begins to wane & fade out the further we distance from the explosive beginning,

& well, now we're here;

IT'S A BIT SAD, i know. i've stood where you stood in numerous fanbases- HELL, even with the TSP fandom PRIOR to 2022, i would have LOVED to be part of that crowd.

while, admittedly, you can only do so much to rekindle the flames when it comes to things like this, there's NO harm in trying! set up whatever polls & projects you like & give your own spin on that of which you loved / wanted to be apart of before! who is stopping you? a testament to older fandom culture is ALWAYS fun!

& if nobody takes to it? well, that's certainly a risk. but you'll have given it a shot, & that's better than doing nothing at all! doing nothing assures that the ideas you ( & perhaps others ) want to see revitalized will NEVER be so, so- it's true what they say, be the change you want to see in the world; & if you can somehow make it work on your own, parties of one aren't as bad as you'd think! god knows i'm not dancing around in dead fandoms & playing with old trends for anyone else's pleasure but my own

I'LL THROW YOU A BONE THOUGH, as someone who had a big part to play in the production / participation of that particular " fic turned game, " i'm able to provide you plenty context & then some! just drop me a DM & fire away!

but yeah! i get how it is & i completely understand the ache you're feeling now. i wish i had more of a concrete solution to offer beyond " make your own fun regardless, " but hey! if it helps, i'm sure you'll be able to witness the explosive dawn of a new fandom you'll enjoy in the future!

& then you'll understand the horrors i've gone through /silly

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/olderthannetfic/770240173023838208

Wow, I am not this anon but I was surprised by the p unanimous pushback, at least when I first saw the comments. I interpreted reupload here in this context as something more public than a dm, like something Google findable, but still effectively an interaction, so still technically peer to peer in the first place, and preservation not theft minded. Not like, a wattpad reupload? Like answering an ask or post on the deleted fic sub for help finding a fic with an archive link/cache link, or posting a google drive link? Idk if I’m using the right terminology for any of this now.

I’m a bit of a fic hoarder and seek out deleted things pretty often, and do show up in spaces like the aforementioned, hat in hand, when there’s stuff I can’t find, and also privately point people to where they can find deleted fics. I didn’t consider this kind of thing reupload, which I would prev had said I’m against (unless you’re the original author), but it did feel to me like it was what op was describing, on the other hand if it /is/ considered reupload, I also am pro this specific sort… like are these uncharitable interpretations of the ask, bc op was verbally telegraphing ‘very controversial take’ out the gate? Have I been secretly an fandom badguy all along and I didn’t know it??

Maybe I’m over correcting and being too generous in my read because I feel like they’re doing a bad job at, ultimately, saying something I agree with, but I also don’t think saying that the internet is written in ink is and individual human beings who like your art might preserve it or interact with it in way you don’t like once it’s public = AI scraping is fair enough, and ultimately on you, and so are sex crimes 😭, even if there were unfortch parallels in how this sentiment was conveyed... if you don’t want [undesirable outcome] don’t [preventative choice] is a standard format that can be used for good AND evil I think. I swear to god I’m not op even though it highkey sounds like I am how I’m going to bat

--

Wayback machine links and privately linking someone when they make a "Can anyone find X?" post are mostly accepted, in my experience. Posting a public link on that same post that isn't the wayback machine is sometimes okay with people, but it varies.

Anon was here to stir shit.