#Write My Essay For Me Cheap

[yellowistheraddest]

one more day of overtime in a row and im actually gonna commit a crime

[gg-ladybug]

Let me be INCREDIBLY clear when I say it was always obvious Gabriel Agreste was planning to sacrifice himself.

Even when orchestrating a perfect scenario for Ladybug to believe, he finds a way to write himself and his worth out of it (in a way that was SUPER mentally questionable— but that’s a whole other analysis)

Despite doing it in a way that was beneficial to him— and traumatic for all involved— he’s basically spent the last year of his life vicariously speaking about himself through other people / victims, and I WILL NOT stop talking about it until I eventually write an essay on it

[dokyumms]

don't say "i do"

one year ago, your parents made you and wonwoo break up for the sake of an arranged marriage and he left your life with a simple click of the front door. one year later, you're finally getting married, and you're already regretting every decision you've ever made. the worst part? you bump into a familiar face right as you're about to walk down the aisle. ♫ now playing: "try again" - jaehyun, d.ear

pairing: ex!wonwoo x fem!reader

genre: fluff, comedy? idfk

word count: 2.1k

cw: arranged/forced marriage, cursing, original male character, mention of drinking/alcohol, running away, kissing

a/n: a request for my lovely moot @jjjjeonww! inspired by a reel she sent me, but then i lost it so i'm just going off of what i remember... if this looks rushed, it's probably bc it is 😭 (i've been working on this for days ok) also changed my formatting AGAIN but ANYWAYS enjoy kings

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

when you made the choice to send your ex an invitation to your wedding, you didn't think he'd even receive it.

it was an irrational decision, one you'd made after a few too many drinks with your friend.

"won't your parents be mad though?" she asked, watching as you finalized the decision, sloppily writing down his address on an envelope on your living room floor. you really did save an extra invitation just for this, but you were too scared to really do anything with it until that moment, too intoxicated to logically think this through.

"eh, they're already making me marry some rich asshole, the least they could do is just let me invite one person." you shrugged, tossing it somewhere on your "to mail" pile and leaning back against the base of the couch.

this was all really dumb, it really was. there was exactly one week before your wedding, yet you were drinking cheap soju in your living room at 4 am and making bad decisions. inviting your ex to your wedding was a pretty good example of one.

at least your friend not only has a higher alcohol tolerance than you, but is also better than you when it comes to wise decision making.

"i don't know, wonwoo most likely believes that you broke up with him because you fell in love with someone else. i wouldn't show up if i were him."

you groaned, she was right. when you refused to break up with wonwoo for the sake of some money your parents would gain from a marriage with some rich guy they knew, they took matters into their own hands. they had a whole professional letter writer (whatever job that was) analyze some essays you'd wrote for college and write a letter to wonwoo, saying that you two should break up because you lost feelings for him and found someone else.

the letter was planted in your kitchen for him to find, unknown to you. so when wonwoo confronted you about it, you had no idea what to say, but he took your speechlessness for an answer and left. you couldn't even blame him. the letter was written with your exact handwriting as well as your tone of voice, you would've thought you'd wrote it as well if you weren't, well, yourself.

that day, you lost the love of your life and learned that your parents were crazy lunatics.

"well, this might not even be his address anyway, mingyu probably sent me the address of a dumpsite."

"you seriously asked his best friend??"

"who else was i supposed to ask?"

"yeah, there's no way that's his address then. he also must think you dumped wonwoo, remember?"

"well, i rented him a camper van in france for a week and basically paid for that whole trip, so he sent me that."

"are you kidding... rich people are so stupid. so stupid!" and the night ends with laughter, the letter long forgotten.

but before you know it, it's your wedding day, or what you've been calling it: doomsday.

you didn't even write a vow because who even was this guy? exactly. you hardly even knew him, let alone enough to write a whole vow for him. thinking about kissing him was just making you gag.

whatever, at least you look pretty. the one good thing to come out of this wedding might just be your dress, but it's not like the one guy you actually want to marry will see it, so now you're just sad again.

your heels click and clack as you make your way toward the doors leading to your demise. it's okay, just close your eyes and pretend he’s wonwoo. what was his name anyway? you're pretty sure that it was jaewon or something- or maybe jaehyun?

well, you don't have time to contemplate the groom's name anymore, because you're literally right in front of the doors now. the typical wedding music is playing, awaiting your arrival. you take a deep breath. your dad wasn't even considerate enough to actually walk you down the aisle, so much for being so eager for you to get married.

okay, you actually have to go now, but you start to second guess yourself. after this, you might just be bound to some barely known rich guy for life. the exit door is so close, why don't you just run away?

you turn to look at your hopeless escape, but instead of a door you see... wonwoo? a very good looking wonwoo at that.

he's standing kind of awkwardly, looking at you as if he's in some sort of daze. he's dressed in a suit and wearing a new pair of glasses. other than that, he looks just about the same as you remember, and for some reason, you're relieved.

when he notices you looking at him, he coughs, shaking his head.

"sorry, i was looking for the restroom,"

you almost want to tease him for the lame excuse, but you’re probably not in the place to do so. looking around, you try to locate a restroom, but to no avail. you’re honestly still in shock that he’s even here.

“um, i don’t really know my way around here either, sorry…”

he chuckles lightly, “it’s okay, no worries, y/n.” he says, adjusting his glasses before speaking again.

“you look beautiful, by the way.”

it’s barely above a whisper, a voice he only used when you’re both in bed and he’s feeling particularly flirty, peppering your face with kisses and giving shy compliments against your skin.

you begin to forget that you’re not actually getting married to wonwoo, but reality hits when you take into account the situation you’re in. you’re talking to your ex right before you’re supposed to get married to another man.

he seems to notice your dilemma, rubbing the back of his neck. “you should probably go in soon, you know? can’t have them waiting on their bride forever.”

you wait for a minute to answer, “…but what if i don’t want to?”

wonwoo furrows his eyebrows, confused. “what are you saying?” you can barely hear him over the pipe organ that begins to replay the wedding song; you’re running out of time.

is this really worth it? losing the love of your life for some cash? no, it's not, and you're definitely not missing the one chance you have at this moment.

it's not like your family really needs it anyway, you think.

“fuck it,” you mutter, kicking off your heels and taking a hold of his wrist.

he watches you, even more bewildered than before. “y/n, what are you doing-“ and you’re making a sprint toward the exit with him in hand. you’re well aware that he has more than enough physical strength to hold you back, but he doesn’t, just yelping after you as he tries not to trip.

this was nowhere near what you'd thought escaping a wedding would be like. when you day-dreamt about it, it'd played out as something cringey, like wonwoo busting through the door right before you say "i do" or something. right now, you absolutely have no idea what you’re doing, dragging wonwoo out of the wedding venue with no plan whatsoever.

"y/n! what about your wedding?" he asks as you both step out of the emergency fire exit (yes, you seriously used the fire exit as an escape. that's what it's for... right?). you don't answer his question, waiting till you're both a safe distance away from the venue.

you learn quickly that taking off your shoes was the best and worst decision of your life. you know you would've tripped if you tried to run in heels, but the feelings of gravel against the bottom of your feet might just be worse than that.

suddenly, wonwoo abruptly stops, making you turn around. you're both still in the middle of the parking lot, not nearly as far away as you would like to be, but you stop anyway.

"if you really want to run away from your wedding for some reason, can we at least take my car?" he offers, catching his breath while pulling out a pair of car keys from his pocket. in the distance, you hear someone or two call out your name.

"yeah, that's probably a good idea."

so now you two are in wonwoo's car, driving to what seems to be his place. his car hasn't changed in the last year, the familiar scent of his air freshener gives you some sense of nostalgia. the drive feels like old times, like when wonwoo would drive you to your university or when he'd take you out to the museum in another city, soft music playing as you two sit in comfortable silence.

but unfortunately for you, there's not exactly time to reminisce because you have a lot of explaining to do.

"so, why'd you back out of the wedding? wasn't that the guy you, um... left for?" he asks. you can tell he's trying to be cool about it, but the way his grip on the wheel tightens just a bit gives him away.

you grimace. yeah, it wasn’t your fault, but you still feel a pang of guilt surge through you at the mention of of the break up. slowly, you begin to tell him everything: the letter, your parents, all of it.

he still looks skeptical, but you see the tension in his shoulders fade as you talk. before long, you both arrive at his place.

"wait for a moment," he says, getting out of the car. you think he's going to get something, but he simply walks to the other side of the car and opens your door.

"thanks..?" you tell him, sort of stunned at his courtesy. he just smiles at you, standing there for another moment. "well, i was going to carry you, if that's okay."

you swear you feel your eyeballs bulge out of your eyesockets as you stare at him like he just asked you to do a backflip. he laughs softly at your expression. "your feet- they hurt, don't they?" he asks, gesturing to your feet that are littered with little specks of red and debris from the pavement you ran on earlier.

"it doesn't really hurt that much won-" you try, getting up from the seat, but wonwoo gently pushes you back. "just let me, shouldn't i take care of my bride?" he argues, scooping you up with ease and kicking the car door shut with his foot.

you squirm in his grip as he carries you through the entrance of his place, only letting you go once he seats you on the couch. like his car, his apartment looks relatively the same as you remember, and it honestly still feels like your second home.

"do you have anything on you? like your phone?" he asks, sitting down beside you. you shake your head, all of your belongings are still at the venue because as stated before, you did not think this through. it suddenly dawns on you that you might be screwed. "it's okay, at least no one's going to barge in here." he laughs, trying to lighten the mood a little, but he sees that it doesn't do much.

"hey, look at me," he urges, tilting your jaw so you're making eye contact with him. "i promise you, it's going to be fine. we'll work this out," he assures you.

"i just have one question," he starts again, "do you still love me?"

you swallow, hard because yes, of course you still love him, but would he even forgive you for leaving him? it wasn't exactly your fault, but you feel guilty about it anyway.

he waits patiently for your answer, keeping the eye contact between you two as you respond.

“well… yes?” you say hesitantly, scared of his reaction. he wouldn't throw you out of the house or something, he's definitely not the type to, but it's still nerve-wracking: confessing your feelings to him all over again.

he smiles softly at your answer, leaning in a little. "so you wouldn't mind if i did this, right?" despite having some clue on what he's about to do, you raise an eyebrow before he gently presses his lips against yours.

your eyes close at the familiar contact, god, you missed this. it’s short and sweet, wonwoo breaks the kiss before you become too engrossed in his lips.

“well? don’t leave me hanging,” you pout. he thinks for a moment, trying to figure what you’re talking about before he makes a noise of realization.

“i love you too, was the kiss not enough to say that?”

you smile at him; he smiles back. yes, you just ran away from your wedding and people are probably looking all over the place for you, but who cares? certainly not you.

“let’s get married,” he suddenly decides, “we’re already dressed for the occasion anyway. you think the venue is still open?” you know he’s probably joking, but you look at him and seriously consider his suggestion.

“wait… maybe it is. let’s go check!” you bounce off the couch, dragging wonwoo with you. “wait, y/n, you’re not wearing any shoes!” he shouts after you.

—

“you really forgot my address? it’s been the same for years, y/n.”

“what? so i spent all that money on mingyu for no reason?”

“ah, so that’s the emergency fund he used to go to france.”

[mw00nie]

extra credit

you first see him on a tuesday.

10 a.m. political science. long, cold, fluorescent-lit misery. you only took it because the professor was rumored to be easy. except, twist, he now isn’t, and your attendance is locked in for the semester. brutal.

you always sit in the back. fake typing on your laptop, tabs full of shit you’ll never afford, pretending you’re gonna relisten to the lectures on your phone. spoiler: you won’t.

so, naturally, you start people-watching. it becomes your sport.

guy in front of you sexting someone at 10 a.m. on a tuesday? disturbing. girl next to you writing color-coded notes on an ipad that costs more than your rent? pretentious. two girls giggling over tinder and ranking guys like they’re judging cattle at a state fair? iconic.

then you see him.

front row. every single class. white hair, slightly too long, messy like he cut it himself or forgot to. hoodie with a bleach stain on the sleeve. glasses he keeps pushing up with his middle finger. backpack covered in pins that look suspiciously like anime.

the kind of guy who probably owns a sword. the kind of guy who turns in essays early and apologizes for formatting mistakes. the kind of guy who definitely gets hard when girls yell at him.

you watch him answer a question once, voice so quiet, you can barely hear it from your seat, and it hits you like a truck:

this guy is such a loser. i want him in my bed immediately.

you don’t do anything about it at first. just move closer, row by row, like a predator slowly circling.

he doesn’t notice. he’s too busy actually doing the readings.

every class, he types with those long fingers, hunched over his laptop like he’s coding the next great american novel. he frowns when the professor gets something wrong. he wears wired headphones. wired, for god’s sake.

you can feel it building in you every time he pushes his glasses up. every time he mutters a “yeah, i think that’s actually covered in the assigned paper by—” before trailing off, embarrassed.

you want to climb into his lap and ruin his academic career. you want to know if he’s as nervous with his hands as he is with his voice. you want to see how red his ears can get.

three weeks in, you finally snap.

you catch him right after lecture, halfway to the vending machines, headphones still hanging around his neck. his fingers are tangled in his hoodie strings, backpack slung over one shoulder, like he barely remembered to exist outside of class.

he stops in his tracks when you say his name.

“satoru gojo, right?”

he blinks. once. twice. like you’ve just pulled the fire alarm in his brain.

“…yeah?”

he’s taller than you expected. awkwardly so. broad shoulders slouched like he’s trying to make himself smaller. glasses sliding down his nose. messy white hair that looks like he towel-dried it and called it a day. he smells faintly like clean laundry and caffeine. you hate how much that does to you.

you lean in a little. tilt your head. smile like you know something he doesn’t.

“you’re smart,” you say. “painfully. the kind of smart that corrects the professor mid-lecture and then apologizes for it.”

he flushes, stammers. “i– only if they’re, like, wrong? sometimes?”

adorable.

you step closer. just enough to watch his pupils blow out a little. he’s blinking at you like he’s buffering.

“i need help studying,” you say sweetly. “and you seem.. helpful.”

his mouth opens. closes. “uh– sure?”

“great.” you tilt your head. “library at seven?”

he nods, slow and stunned.

you smile wider. “and if you’re good,” you say, voice low enough to make him swallow, “i might let you kiss me.”

you don’t wait for a response. just turn and walk off, backpack slung lazily over your shoulder.

when you glance back, he’s still standing there. frozen, mouth slightly open, entire brain fried like a cheap motherboard.

you laugh to yourself.

this is going to be so much fun.

he shows up to the library that night. you weren’t sure he would. he seemed like the type to overthink it until he got hives. but there he is 6:57, laptop in hand, adorned in what looked like a bunch of different stickers. the etsy type.

“hey,” you say, flashing a smile as he slides into the seat next to you.

he nearly fumbles his bag off the table. “hey,” he replies, voice quiet. “so… what’re you stuck on?”

you don’t even bother pretending to know. just hand him your notes with a shrug and start watching him instead.

he’s so earnest. brows furrowed. lips pressed together. squinting at your writing like it personally offended him.

you’re supposed to be learning about political theory, but all you can think about is what his mouth would feel like on your neck. how red his ears would get if you sat in his lap right now and pulled on his hoodie strings.

by the end of the night, he’s explained two chapters, drawn a chart, and unconsciously flexed his hands at least a dozen times.

you lean back, stretch, and smile at him sweetly. “you’re a really good teacher.”

he turns a little pink. scratches the back of his neck.

“…thanks?”

“don’t thank me yet,” you murmur. “you’ve got office hours again tomorrow.”

he swallows.

you don’t kiss him. not yet. you let him walk home in a daze, probably questioning whether he imagined the whole thing.

you make him wait.

over the next two weeks, you meet him three more times.

once in the library, once at a coffee shop, and once after class in an empty study room.

every time, he gets a little bolder. not much. just enough for you to notice.

his knees brush yours under the table and he doesn’t pull back. he teases you when you mess up a definition. he looks you in the eye a little longer than he did before, until you’re the one who has to look away.

“you’re learning,” you hum one night.

he just shrugs, smirking softly.

“you said if i was good, i’d get to kiss you.”

his voice is low. deeper now. like he’s starting to realize he has some kind of effect on you.

you smile, sweet and lethal.

“maybe next time.”

you invite him over on a thursday night.

you claim it’s for a “final review session” before the quiz. you text him your address, and tell him to wear something comfortable.

he shows up in another hoodie and sweatpants. his glasses are clean for once. his hair still a mess, but in a way that almost looks intentional.

you pretend to study for fifteen minutes.

fifteen.

after that, you crawl into his lap, straddle his legs, and tilt his chin up.

“still wanna kiss me?”

he doesn’t answer. just leans in and kisses you like he’s been thinking about it for weeks.

and god, he’s so warm. so eager. he kisses like he means it, messy and deep, hands hovering just shy of your waist like he’s scared to hold on too tightly.

you grind down once and he chokes on a moan.

“shit– wait–”

you pull back and grin.

“don’t tell me this is your first time.”

he goes red, but his eyes are sharp now, glinting under the low light of your room.

“…why would you think that?”

you laugh, breathless. “because you’re a loser. you raise your hand in lectures. you wear anime pins. you fumble your phone when i look at you.”

“so?” he murmurs, licking into your mouth, voice rough. “i can still make you cum.”

you blink. stunned.

he grins, slow and devastating. glasses slipping again, hands sliding up your thighs.

“wanna bet?”

you don’t even make it five minutes into the “study” session before he’s got you pinned to the couch.

your laptop’s open on some political science quizlet. long forgotten.

your panties are shoved halfway down your thighs, hoodie thrown on the floor somewhere, one of his hands gripping your jaw while the other is buried deep inside you.

“what happened to all that attitude?” he mutters against your mouth, voice low, breath warm. “thought you said i was a loser.”

you gasp, try to buck your hips, but he holds you still. his fingers curl just right and your entire spine arches.

“fuck– satoru–”

“say it again,” he growls, licking into your mouth like he’s starving. “say i’m a loser.”

you whimper. “you’re– fuck, you’re not–”

“hmm?” his thumb circles your clit, lazy and cruel. “what was that?”

you choke on a moan. it’s disgusting how wet you are. slick dripping down his knuckles, pooling under your ass on the cushions.

he’s still got his glasses on. slightly fogged. his hair’s messier than usual, sleeves shoved up to his elbows. he looks deranged. brilliant. completely in control.

and all you want is more.

“please,” you breathe. “just– fuck me– please–”

he pulls his fingers out and sucks them into his mouth like he’s tasting you.

“you ask so nicely,” he hums, grinning like the devil. “but i think you need a little warm-up first.”

you expect him to drop to his knees.

you don’t expect him to pull you by the hips and throw you over his face.

he lays back on the couch, one arm hooked under your thigh, and drags you down onto his mouth.

“oh– fuck–”

his tongue is obscene. messy. insistent. his nose brushes your clit every time he moves, and he groans like he’s the one getting off.

you’re gasping, grinding against his face, grabbing fistfuls of his hair like a girl possessed.

he pulls back once to breathe and licks his lips, eyes half-lidded, voice wrecked.

“sweetest i’ve ever had in my life,” he mutters. “could stay here all night.”

you cum on his tongue twice.

by the time he lets you down, your legs are jelly. your voice is half-gone. and he’s hard. painfully hard. under his sweatpants.

“c’mere,” he mutters, voice rough. “you owe me something.”

you drop to your knees without hesitation.

he’s thick, flushed, leaking at the tip, and way too big for the loser nerd image he gives off in class.

“god,” you whisper, wrapping a hand around it. “you’ve been hiding this from me?”

“was waiting for you to find out,” he says, pushing his glasses up, totally smug.

you stroke him slow, spit-slick and teasing, then lean in and drag your tongue up the underside.

his breath stutters. “f-fuck–”

you take him in deep, hollow your cheeks. he groans and grabs the back of your head.

“god, you’re good,” he mutters, hips twitching. “knew you’d suck cock like a slut.”

you whimper around him, moan at the taste, the weight, the way his thigh tenses under your hand.

he fucks your mouth slowly. not too deep, not yet.  just enough to make your eyes water.

when he pulls you off, you’re panting, spit dripping down your chin.

“get on the couch,” he says, voice dark. “hands and knees.”

you scramble up, bend over, and he groans.

“fuck– look at that.”

he presses himself up behind you, drags the head of his dick through your folds, and leans forward to whisper against your ear.

“you’re gonna let the virgin loser fuck you like this?” he murmurs, kissing your neck.

“yes,” you whine. “please– satoru, i need it–”

he thrusts in all at once.

you gasp, your eyes rolling back.

he’s so deep it makes your stomach flip, one hand digging into your hip while the other presses between your shoulder blades, pushing you down.

he starts fucking you like he’s been waiting years. filthy, relentless, fast and hard and deep enough you can barely think.

“not such a brat now, huh?” he pants. “still think i’m just some nerd?”

you’re moaning, crying out, face smushed into a pillow as he hits your g-spot with every thrust like a bullseye

he leans down, wraps a hand around your throat, and groans when you clench around him.

“tight little pussy,” he mutters. “knew you’d be like this. couldn’t stop thinking about it. mmph– gonna ruin you–”

he pulls out and flips you over ignoring your whine of protest. pushes your legs up to your chest, and drills into you.

you cum again, shaking, sobbing into his mouth as he kisses you through it.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, sweat on his brow, pupils blown.

“you want it inside?” he grunts, hips stuttering. “want me to fill you up?”

“yesyes– fuck, please–”

“god, you’re filthy,” he groans. 

he cums hard. deep, slow thrusts, hips grinding into yours, breath hot against your throat as he empties inside you.

you’re both panting. ruined. bodies tangled on your shitty dorm couch.

he pulls out slow, watches his cum leak out of you, and smirks.

“extra credit,” he says, breathless. “you definitely passed.”

[yuujispunches]

Of deadlines and desires ~ M.F. (Part 1)

Pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x fem!reader

Summary: Megumi Fushiguro infuriated you like no one else in that college, he knew how to get under your skin. You wanted to strangle him most of the time but a moment of weakness might just change everything.

CW (content warning): college AU (modern setting, no curses), academic rivals, aged-up Megumi and reader (in their 20s), smut, MDNI (+18), fingering, p in v sex, protected sex, some cursing, mentions of alcohol.

AN (author’s note): Hi guys! This is the first part of a small series I’m going to make, it’s the first time I’m really writing something like this but I think I’m really happy with how it turned out. As always a reminder that English isn’t my first language and I’m typing this in my phone so I’m sorry if there are any typos/mistakes. Hope you enjoy Andes me know what you think! :)

Requests are open so feel free to send them! (you can check the list of character I write for on my pinned post)

Masterlist || Part 2 || Part 3 >>

You hate Megumi Fushiguro.

That’s what you tell everyone. That’s what you tell yourself every time he walks into lecture, cool and aloof like he owns the goddamn room. It’s what you mutter under your breath whenever his name pops up at the top of the grade sheet, again, just a fraction of a point above yours. Every time he smirks when Professor Saito praises his thesis framework. Every time he doesn’t even look like he’s trying.

And it’s definitely what you whisper through clenched teeth when he strolls past you on the quad like you’re invisible, only to throw a lazy “Try harder next time.” Over his shoulder without even really looking at you.

Smug bastard.

But tonight? Tonight, you’re not thinking about grades or academic validation or whose literary analysis was more “emotionally resonant.” Tonight, you’re at a party.

Well, you didn’t mean to be. You told yourself you’d just stop by for a drink, show face, say hi to Nobara, make good on your practically empty social life. You’re the kind of person who highlights your planner. Who color codes your notes and sets calendar reminders for assignments you already submitted. So maybe, just maybe, you wanted to feel a little reckless for once.

It’s working. The cheap vodka’s doing something warm and unwise to your veins.

The house is buzzing with bodies and base-heavy music. Someone spilled something sticky across the kitchen floor. There’s a line for the bathroom and someone crying on the porch.

And standing in the middle of the living room like he’s some kind of dark omen is him.

Megumi Fushiguro.

Wearing a black t-shirt stretched a little too tightly across his chest. Holding a red solo cup like he’s seconds away from chucking it at a wall out of boredom.

You freeze. You could turn around. You should. You are about to. But then he sees you.

And he smirks.

“Didn’t think this was your scene.” He says, voice just loud enough to be heard over the music as he closes the space between you.

“Didn’t think you were capable of smiling.” You shoot back.

“It’s not a smile. It’s pity.” He retorts with a cocky grin etched on his face.

You scoff, already reaching for a drink you probably shouldn’t have. “What, you feel bad I’m here while you could be home reorganizing your books by existential crisis level?”

He laughs and that’s annoying too. Because it’s deep and smooth and doesn’t match the tightness in your stomach.

“You’re projecting again.”

You take a sip, even though your drink tastes like floor cleaner. “You wish.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Just lifts his cup, eyes scanning you with that irritating coolness he always wears like armor. But there’s something else there too. Something that makes your skin feel hot under your clothes.

“I thought you’d be in the library.” He says. “Grinding your teeth over our last essay.”

“I thought you’d be halfway inside your own ass about how smart you are.”

“Maybe I just wanted to see you off your game.” He scorns.

You blink, taken aback. What the fuck does that even mean? “What?”

He shrugs. “You’re always so... focused. Makes me wonder what you’d be like if you loosened up.”

Your pulse quickens and you hate it.

There’s always been tension between you. A low buzz under every debate, every paper handed back with too few red marks. You’d chalked it up to competition to the way two smart people burn when placed too close for too long. But now?

Now he’s looking at you like you’re not a rival. Like you’re prey. And maybe you’re drunk. Maybe the vodka’s making you reckless. But you don’t walk away.

Instead, you step closer.

“I’m perfectly capable of letting loose.” You say, voice low, defiant.

He tilts his head, clearly amused. “Prove it.”

So you do.

——————————————————————————

It starts with dancing.

If it can be called that. You have never been one to dance. But you press in close enough that you can feel the heat of him behind you. The music’s pulsing, people swaying and grinding around you in a haze of movement and bass. You’re not sure who closes the gap that separated you first, but one second you’re taunting him with your hips, and the next he’s got a hand on your waist.

You turn your head just enough to feel his breath against your jaw.

“You sure you want to play this game?” He asks, voice rough.

“I’m not scared of you.”

“You should be.”

But his grip tightens, grounding you. You roll your hips back and feel the way his breath hitches just slightly, but you notice.

You’re dizzy from it. From him. And when his hand slides lower, fingers brushing the hem of your skirt, you know you’ve crossed some invisible line you can’t uncross.

You spin in his arms, grabbing his collar.

“We shouldn’t- ” You start.

He cuts you off.

“I don’t care.”

And then, before you can protest any further he’s kissing you.

It’s messy. Too much teeth, too much heat. You’ve spent the last two years arguing with this man words like blades, insults flung like grenades. But now it’s all hands and mouths and a feverish kind of need.

You pull him upstairs.

——————————————————————————

The room you manage find is thankfully empty.

He slams the door behind you, but you barely register it, you’re too busy fumbling at his shirt, yanking it over his head with the kind of frustration you’ve been building for semesters.

“You’re such a- ”

“- pretentious asshole?” He finishes for you, grinning as he backs you toward the bed. “Yeah. I know.”

You shove him. He laughs.

Then you’re both falling onto the mattress, a tangle of limbs and tension.

Clothes come off in pieces, your top over your head, his jeans shoved down his thighs. You can feel how hard he is through his boxers when he grinds against you. You gasp, arching up.

“Still hate me?” He murmurs, lips trailing down your neck.

“I might hate you more now.”

“You’re wet for someone you hate.”

“Shut up.”

But you’re gasping when his fingers slip between your thighs, stroking you through your underwear. It’s infuriating how good he is at this. Like he’s studied you the way he studies for exams, precise, unrelenting, deliberate.

He hooks your panties to the side and sinks one finger into you, then another.

“Fuck.” You whisper, nails digging into his back.

He kisses you again, swallowing your moans, slower this time, but no less intense. His fingers move inside you, curling just right, dragging pleasure out of you like he’s coaxing it from your bones.

You grind against his hand, shameless.

“I knew you’d be like this.” He says, mouth brushing your ear. “So fucking stubborn until someone breaks you open.”

“I’m not broken.” He hits that spot again, you gasp.

“No. You’re perfect.”

It’s the sincerity that does you in.

You don’t want him to see you like this raw, open, vulnerable. But he’s already pulling away to shed the rest of his clothes, and you forget how to breathe when you see him.

Leaning back against the pillows, you reach for him, lips parting.

You help him roll on a condom with a hiss between his teeth, pumping him up a few times, slow deliberate strokes and for a moment he swears he is about to loose it right there and then, no better than an hormonal teenager. He regains his composure just barely before it’s too late and then settles between your thighs, kissing you like he means it. Like he’s wanted this. For a long time.

When he pushes in, it’s slow. Deliberate. Like he wants you to feel every inch.

You moan, it’s not graceful. He swallows the sound with his mouth once again.

“Still with me?” He murmurs, forehead resting against yours.

“Harder.” You whisper.

He gives you what you ask for.

Each thrust pushes the breath from your lungs. You wrap your legs around him, you lift your, meeting him stroke for stroke. He holds your hips like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. You kiss him or he kisses you. At this point you can’t tell where you end and he begins.

You’re close. God, you’re so close. His name leaves your lips like a curse, like a prayer.

And when you finally come, it crashes over you like a wave overwhelming and bright and utterly unacademic.

He follows soon after, shuddering against you, jaw clenched.

For a moment, there’s only silence. Heavy breathing. Sweat cooling on skin.

Then you break the silence.

“Well.” you say hoarsely. “That was a mistake.”

He huffs a laugh and rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “Totally.”

You lie there in the dark. His fingers find yours.

You let them.

——————————————————————————

The next morning, you wake up tangled in sheets that aren’t yours, Megumi’s chest rising and falling next to you.

You should feel regret. You should feel awkward.

Instead, you feel... oddly peaceful. Not that you would ever admit it out loud.

That is, until he cracks an eye open and says, “I still got a better grade on that Gojo paper.”

You grab a pillow and smack him with it.

He laughs real and unguarded. And despite yourself, you laugh too.

Maybe you don’t hate him after all.

Maybe you never did.

taglists are open so let me know if you want to be added for future works! :)

[ryanisasleep]

Sleeping with Konig. I got the idea from a user that posted "Sleeping with Ghost/Simon includes" but I sadly can't find the user or the post. If you happen to read this, can you tell me if it's ok to use your idea or not?

Expect the bed to sink

Lots of rolling around, that guy has the constant need to move, even in his sleep

Mumbles a lot, sometimes even swear words

Nightmares or sleepless nights, his job keeps him on alert every time

He groans like an old guy even when he is just 45.

Before going to bed, I like to think he likes to read, he has those cheap reading glasses on his wooden bedside table and a stash of never read books that varies from historical to scientific

Goodnight kisses, cuddling too

Expect some tender moments too, he can't be all rough with his lad/lass all the time.

Let's you trace some of his scars, others are too sensitive to be touched.

Expect a gun in a safebox under your bed.

Oh and that bed creeks, it's old af, it's from his childhood home.

When you have nightmares, I believe he hums a tune of an old song his grandma sang to make him fall asleep but when it is him who has them, then he just wants to fall asleep in your arms, maybe a bit of hair ruffling is there too.

Now how about living with him?

Whole Stash of knives, not on display but let's just say that if someone was to get in, they were in big trouble?

A bit short but I didn't want to write a whole essay. I have tons of ideas in my head but I can't write them ahhhh

[ellierenae]

SUPER UNIQUE writing ideas for hobbyists and professionals looking for fun, personal projects to get their inspo back

get a fictional pen pal (ask your other writer friends!) and spend time decorating envelopes, picking out a handwriting style, maybe buying a cheap perfume/cologne that smells like your character to really get to know them and feel their presence. if you have hand tremors or bad handwriting like me, you can choose a handwriting font for them and print their letters out!! more examples: save the dates, wedding invitations, birthday cards, party invites, etc.

use old calendars in character (there are many "expired" planners on sale around the end of the year, usually August) personally, i use them to record major life events like first band tours, trips abroad, holidays, birthdays... even trash pickup days and when they forget to roll out the bins!

sketch floor plans this can be on graph paper if you have the know-how when it comes to scaling down, but there are also tons of simple apps that allow you to both create the floor plan a builder would use and add furniture like an interior decorator. some even let you rotate them afterwards and see the furniture and walls burst to life in 3D! you can think of them as the sims but where everything is actually to scale

make an architectural model if you have some scrap cardboard, paper, and glue, you can easily bring the floor plan you just made to life (you'll need practice if you want to get really fancy with it of course! window panes and railings are the gnarliest part for me, haha)

make a playlist as your character maybe the most accessible one on this list, you can make the playlist your character listens to. sometimes this can be fun and surprising, like when my little guy Possum from Violence Without Plot is covered in tattoos and plays punk music on stage but listens to nothing but spa music to wind down between shows

write something your character can see this one is so weird to summarize but what i mean is like... a school essay for your teacher character to grade. cryptic street signs warning about danger by the lake. a memorial plaque beneath a statue. a character's online blog. a few of the cards in a grandmother's recipe box. a business card for a smooth-talking lawyer. things you can write that make everything feel so textured and real

these are all things i do on the daily, and it makes my life as a writer a thousand times more joyful and fulfilling. so have fun, be safe, and don't forget to unplug the hot glue when you're done <3

[a-town-called-hometown]

yippee! apologies if my takes are horrendously bad

my personal take on the matter is that i definitely think the dark worlds can work as a metaphor for escapism without undermining the darkners' personhood. it can be more than one thing, yknow? the darkners are important, their lives matter. and the lightners do go to the dark world as an escape from the problems they face in their own life. but that's not the darkners' whole PURPOSE, yknow? i mean. according to the laws of the universe of deltarune yes darkners' "purpose" is to serve the lightners but like it's not their whole purpose in the STORY.

it's sort of like how, in UNDERTALE, LOVE represents how distant you've become, how easy it is for you to hurt people. but it also literally gives you the power to destroy the world.

i think the biggest reason i believe escapism is at least a part of deltarune's narrative is queen.

queen's whole speech in both of her fights is about how she intends to provide escapism for the lightners (so that they will worship her but also so that they will he happy). she wants to turn the whole world into a dark world, so that everyone can live in bliss and not have to worry about the woes of the light world. she mentions "Staring, Tapping, To Receive Joy. Staring, Tapping, To Avoid Pain." which is like pretty much the definition of escapism

she wants to help Noelle with the problems she faces in the light world ("Noelle. Who Will Be There To Help Her? Her Strange And Sad Searches" and "My One Idea To Help Noelle, Failed") by just... shoving it away for a blissful fantasy world ("Wake? No, She Has Already Awakened Too Much. Let Her Close Her Eyes And Sleep Away, Into A Darker, Darker Dream.")

...i forgot the rest of what i wanted to say!

well first off, thank you for your ask! I'm going to get extremely in depth in my answer, so bear with me here. sorry it took several weeks to write this. the escapism reading of deltarune is pretty deeply entrenched in fandom, and to refute it, I felt it required a full-length essay to completely explain my viewpoint.

yes, "the lightners desire escapism" does not automatically translate to that being the darkners' actual narrative purpose. escapism can be a theme without dehumanizing those who are used in order to escape - in fact, I've read a number of stories that use someone's desire to escape to HIGHLIGHT how they're hurting others in pursuit of that. I believe that toby fox is definitely capable of telling a story about kids having a valid desire to escape, and about them grappling with having inadvertently created a world of real, living people as a result.

(I'll reiterate again that this is not the story arc that generally shows up in fanon. the common consensus is that the game will end in an omori-esque "growing out of" the dark worlds. it's why I have a huge dislike of the fanon escapism reading, given that the darkners are shown as people whose lack of agency parallels kris' own. it would feel cheap if the resolution to that plot was that the darkners were actually never meant to be agents in their own fates. but this is a digression.)

the reason why i DON'T believe that this is a story that toby fox is telling is because of the way the world, themes, and characters are written. put simply, it just doesn't come across as congruent with the story being told.

deltarune's main themes are agency, fate, identity, and control. this is a conflict that shows up in nearly every major character, is baked into the worldbuilding, and is the central struggle involving us, the player. the protagonist of deltarune is literally possessed by us against their will. the darkners are objects that have no choice but to serve and be discarded. over and over again, there is emphasis on roles that characters play - and crucially, roles that are imposed on them.

what would escapism mean, in this thematic context? in real life, escapism can represent any number of things, but in a story, a major narrative theme generally has to dovetail with other major narrative themes in the work. I would argue that escapism in deltarune would likely mean going to a place where characters are able to choose for themselves what roles they embody, or even to discard the notion of roles altogether. a fantasy of control is the only way to escape a reality where you have no agency. and honestly, it's hard to imagine that something could count as an escapist fantasy if you don't even get to choose whether or not you participate in it.

let's talk about kris.

I see a lot of discussions around kris that say that kris goes into the dark worlds to escape. the dark worlds are posited as kris' fantasy of heroism. it's a world where they can seem heroic and cool, a world where they can have friends. this theory makes a decent amount of sense on the surface level, but only until you consider that kris is being controlled in order to go into the dark worlds. and it is not a control that they appear to welcome.

if those worlds represent kris' fantasy, then why don't they get to choose what happens in those fantasies? why are they being controlled by an external force, one that they actively push back against? if it's really an escape, then why does everything about this world reflect their lack of agency? if they really think this world is just a pure fantasy, then why do they care if spamton falls when his strings are cut?

because they're being deliberately obscured to the player, it is hard to say how kris actually feels about many subjects... but I do seriously doubt that they view the dark worlds as an escape. they don't act in a way that is consistent with that. they resist their lack of agency, and what little we do see of their reactions to darkner characters doesn't suggest that they view those characters as part of a disposable fantasy, either. they seem to have complicated feelings on ralsei. and of course, one of their biggest emotional reactions in the game is to the spamton fight. I would argue that that suggests they have empathy for spamton, which is a hard emotional reaction to have if you believe he's just part of a fantasy. not impossible, mind you, but it seems unlikely that kris believes that all this is simply fantasy.

also, considering that snowgrave both actively discredits the idea that the dark worlds are mere fantasy and is actively traumatic for kris... I seriously doubt they'd open another dark world in chapter 3 on a snowgrave run if their motive was purely to escape. on that route, they've seen the damage we can cause in a dark world. they know that berdly has sustained lasting damage due to our actions, assuming he's not outright dead. why would they want to try and "escape" to a place like that again now that they know what can happen?

the only answer is that they have a motive that isn't escapist.

now, as for ralsei... what part does he have to play in all this?

ralsei does play a lot to the fun, fantastical elements of the dark worlds. he delivers the prophecy that kickstarts the adventure. he flatters both kris and susie endlessly when they act appropriately heroic. he welcomes them into the castle and even makes nice rooms for them. he initially seems tailor-made to enable a fantastical experience where no real issues can ever complicate anything, and where the pain of reality can successfully be hidden from. but there's a lot of complications to the idea that he might represent an escapist fantasy.

the first, and what honestly seems the most important to me, is that he doesn't encourage kris and susie to remain in the dark worlds. he is welcoming and kind, but once the adventure is over, he prompts them to return to the light world. he wants them to deal with their more "real" problems like homework. that doesn't feel like he is trying to facilitate escapism in them. a real fantasy would encourage you to stay in it, wouldn't it?

and while ralsei is definitely invested in making sure the lightners are happy, there are always cracks that show. he isn't able to make kris ignore what happened in the spamton fight. he isn't able to convince susie to be peaceful and kind. and in his very essence, he represents a number of uncomfortable ideas. very importantly, he represents a number of uncomfortable ideas to kris.

this probably ain't your first fandom rodeo, so I'm not going to explain all the different ways that ralsei interacts with kris' personal issues. there's plenty of posts on it out there. what i will point out is, once again, it feels odd that a character who seems tailor made to bring up kris' most uncomfortable associations with their lack of agency and their outsider status in their own family would be part of a fantasy of escapism to them. you'd think that they'd prefer something that didn't have an inbuilt hierarchy, a prophecy that denied them autonomy, or especially a person that reminded them how little they fit into hometown.

that doesn't mean kris doesn't care about him at all - it seems very likely that they do. what I mean to say here is that he just seems ill-suited to an escapism reading, both behaviorally and on a conceptual level. it doesn't seem like that's at all part of his servitude towards the lightners.

of course, there is another non-lightner entity that ralsei seems diegetically engineered to serve. but I'll discuss that later.

now as for susie...

yes, susie definitely views the dark worlds as more fun than the light world. and why wouldn't she? the light world sucks for her, and she doesn't seem very aware of the fact that the dark world can also suck. you could definitely make the argument that she views the dark worlds as a fantastical escape from reality... were it not for the fact that she treats her darkner friends with just as much importance as she does kris and noelle.

can someone treat components of an escapist fantasy as real and important? of course. but given deltarune's themes of agency and control, as well as the fact that darkners exist in servitude to the lightners, I feel like you'd have to make escapism tie into forcing others into a lack of agency if you wanted the theme to feel coherent with the rest of the work. this would require susie to be limiting the agency of the darkners around her. and obviously, she doesn't do that. her presence around them might be inherently limiting, just by simple virtue of being a lightner, but she isn't aware of it, and clearly is uncomfortable with the idea of limiting anyone's agency. she encourages ralsei to make choices. and she supports lancer in basically anything he wants to do. her treatment of lancer is integral to chapter 1's narrative, and it seems like that treatment of ralsei is integral to the ongoing narrative as well!

her preference for the dark world feels very rooted in her engagement with it as its own reality. rather than trying to avoid her real-life problems by engaging in a pretense, she seems to simply want to spend time with her friends in a place that isn't cruel to her. she isn't ignoring any of the dark world's problems in service of that, either. she notices when things don't line up. if she thought of it as a fantasy, wouldn't she be inclined to ignore issues that impede the fantasy?

and critically - like kris, she does not intentionally choose her imposed role in the prophecy at first. she steps into the role of bad guy to resist it, but that role is limiting too, and she eventually acquiesces to being a hero. it's never something she's completely on board with, though. she actively pushes back the limitations that the role places on her. I find this important to reiterate when we are discussing the notion of the characters viewing the dark worlds as fantasy.

noelle has a complicated relationship to the dark worlds. susie tells her that it's a dream to make her accept the strange reality she finds herself in, which works well on her. she continues to think of it as a strange dream throughout the chapter. (though, like the others, it is not a 'dream' she entered of her own volition!)

it is also a markedly unpleasant 'dream' at times. she has her agency restricted, is kidnapped, has to evade a controlling monarch, and is even tied up in a weird evangelion cross thing on the hand of a giant robot. it's not purely fun. noelle does like scary things, and while it might be healthy for her to have an experience where she stands up to a controlling adult figure... again, the circumstances make it difficult for me to assume that this is a fantasy she would choose for herself. not impossible, mind you, but it's not the first reading of the situation that comes to mind.

and while she does say she wishes she could dream like this every day in the normal route, that does happen specifically because she was talking to the girl she likes. it makes sense she'd find that pleasant. I don't think that necessarily equates to her finding the dark worlds escapist.

and importantly, this isn't the sentiment that she expresses in every route.

again, there's a lot of analysis on snowgrave, so I won't bother regurgitating it much here. but it's nightmarish for both kris and noelle, and very likely fatal for berdly. noelle needs to believe that the event is a dream, for her own psychological safety, but one of the most important parts of snowgrave...

...is that its events, and the world it took place in, are very, very real.

noelle wants to have the strength to face her problems, both in the regular route and in the snowgrave route. rather than escaping from them, she views the "dream" as a chance to practice dealing with her day-to-day issues. it's just that in the regular route she finds that strength authentically, and in the snowgrave route, that desire is manipulated and pushed until she is forced to kill berdly. she doesn't interpret snowgrave as an escape gone wrong. she views it as a dream that became a nightmare. and those are two extremely different things.

but i haven't even gotten to the biggest thing that undermines the concept that the dark worlds are a metaphor for escapism! which is: this fucking guy is dead wrong about everything.

so full disclaimer - I really love berdly. I think he's slept on a lot in the fandom because he's annoying and weird. which is fair, I suppose, but I think ignoring him hinders a lot of people's understanding of deltarune's overall narrative. because berdly often illustrates a lot of concepts in the game, but his narrative framing as a joke (usually...) prevents the player from taking it completely seriously. he has things to say and ideas to show off, it's just that he's often very loud and kind of dumb in his expression of them. which is kind of the point!

ralsei brings up the idea that the darkners are meant to serve the lightners very seriously in chapter one. by extension, and by way of the literal mechanics involved in a dark world's creation, we can infer that this logic is probably something that also applies to the dark worlds themselves. they are allegedly worlds and characters that only are supposed to fulfill a dream of the lightners. but due to narrative framing and deltarune's themes, we know that that's not the full truth. however dark worlds and darkners are created, they deserve to have their own agency. they can't just exist to fulfill a higher being's wishes.

you know who else undermines that view of the dark worlds? berdly! berdly does!!!!

because berdly is the only lightner in the game so far who does take the dark worlds to be an escapist adventure! he wants to turn cyber world into smartopia. he views this as a chance to be a cool hero. he believes he's going to get the girl, he's going to shape this world to his own liking, and maybe also he's going to get queen to acknowledge him or something so he stops being a forgettable little bluebird. and not only does none of this happen, his steadfast belief that it will happen is continually a joke within the narrative!!

berdly's wishes for uncomplicated escapist fantasy are flat-out denied by the dark worlds themselves. as a lightner, those worlds should be serving him. he should have the power to do whatever he wants within the bounds of an escapist fantasy. these npcs should be singing his praises!

but he doesn't have the power. and this world doesn't sing his praise. because it just isn't an escapist fantasy. he isn't right to view it that way. his wishes for heroism are always going to be thwarted.

so now that I've gotten all that out of the way, let's swing back over to the subject of your original ask. queen.

because, like berdly, queen's entire character arc is about how she's completely wrong about what the lightners actually want.

queen would in fact like nothing more to place the lightners into an escapist fantasy. she believes that that's the best way to serve them and make them happy forever. as a darkner, queen has very much internalized the idea that a lack of control is what actually makes people happy. since darkners have no choice in their destinies and are supposed to be happy in it, and since she personally finds her role as a darkner fulfilling, she believes that that's true of all people everywhere. if you want to make people happy, you just have to remove that pesky personal agency!

so she spends the story trying to force the lightners and particularly noelle into situations where she controls them in order to make them ostensibly happier. she does genuinely believe that this is the right thing to do, but as she finds out eventually, she's just wrong. noelle doesn't want that. queen believes that escapism is why the lightners use the internet... but that's totally wrong too.

while there are other searches mixed in, noelle is trying to use the internet to find her sister. instead of trying to hide from whatever happened, noelle wants to figure it out. queen's thesis about noelle and the lightners is proven wrong even before she personally encounters noelle in the dark world. it's just that queen doesn't realize it due to her limited perspective.

the concept of escapism being brought up with both queen and berdly is not there to say that the dark world is escapist. rather, it's there to say that it isn't. despite the dark worlds being a fantastical place, they are extremely real. to view them as a means of escape is foolhardy at best. you cannot act as though you are above consequences within them.

themes and ideas exist within the story for a sake of an audience. so let's get into the final character I need to discuss here. hopefully this will tie my thesis of deltarune together neatly.

that character is of course us. the player.

when creating a piece of fiction, an astute author will often identify and anticipate an audience's reactions to certain things in their work, and write things in such a way that they elicit the desired reactions. in essence, a writer is directing the "character" of the audience. how we feel and how we are anticipated to react to things is an integral part of nearly every fiction.

that effect is far more overt when dealing with metanarrative fiction that diegetically involves the audience. since the fiction is saying a lot of things about the general 'you,' the audience in aggregate, your reactions to certain things in the story have to be finely cued and anticipated by the author, so that the author can thus commentate on the reactions that you have to the story. the "character" you are assumed to inhabit is posited by the author to have certain traits.

to explain what I mean in plainer terms, I'll use the player of undertale's no mercy route as an example. because undertale is commenting on the way rpgs generally work. the player's behaviors in no mercy are attributed by characters in the story to be the result of us acting like a typical gamer. we kill the characters in the game because we want exp. and more than that, it's because we want to see everything the game has to offer. the role we inhabit in this role-playing game is that of a completionist. you could say that that's assumed to be our "character" in no mercy.

deltarune also posits that certain things are true of its audience. by being written to evoke certain cultural ideas, rpg tropes, and references to undertale, it guarantees that its audience will probably have certain traits, and spends a large amount of its conceptual focus commenting on those traits. one of those traits is nostalgia, which is probably an idea that I'll expound upon in a further essay because it's quite integral to my reading of deltarune. but the main one I mean to discuss here, and why I went off on this tangent about how audiences are dealt with in metafiction, is that we are posited as someone who believes in the logic of certain narratives.

deltarune's writing evokes a lot of portal fantasy narratives. alice in wonderland, narnia, pretty much every story where it's revealed at the end to be all a dream... the story of deltarune superficially resembles a lot of those. this, I think, is responsible for the popularity of the escapism theory. because those stories are often at their end about a child learning to put away fantasy and grow up, people tend to believe that deltarune must be about the same thing. but I truly don't think that deltarune is trying to do anything with that aspect of portal fantasy narratives, at least not directly. its main characters aren't involved in that exact type of coming-of-age arc.

instead, deltarune is very concerned with what happens to characters in fantasy, and specifically fantasy rpgs. if your world is deemed to not matter because it's a dream, what does that mean for you, who has no choice but to live in it? if you are an npc whose role has been predetermined for you via script, then can you ever decide for yourself what you want? what if you want to matter? what if you want to be your own person?

as the major controlling force of deltarune, we are initially cued to believe that deltarune is like a dream. it superficially fulfills so much of what we want from undertale fanon. hometown seems like it's a perfect idyllic town, at least until you start noticing the obvious cracks. and remember what I said about ralsei earlier? he is so reminiscent of asriel, and extremely eager to help us. it's not a stretch to say that making us specifically view deltarune as dreamlike and idyllic is probably part of his purpose in the game.

I would not say that we are posited as escapist. but the idea of escapism as brought up with queen and berdly is meant to strike at the heart of a much deeper idea that deltarune is trying to deconstruct. because if we view deltarune as a dream, escapist or otherwise, then we are inclined to write the internal realities of the characters inside off. the dark world can disappear without it mattering. we can control kris without it mattering. if it's all a dream, what does it matter? why should we care to let its characters go free? aren't we supposed to be in control?

if deltarune is an rpg... what is the significance of us interacting with it?

[cripplecharacters]

Hello! Rather new to your blog so I don't know if this has been touched on before but I have a blind character, a few things I was wondering was a) what are fundamentals you shouldn't forget when writing a blind character so I can make her writing a bit more accurate and b) what else can blind people do for entertainment besides reading in braille? Thank you in advance!

Hello!

Your first question is very broad and I'd suggest taking a look at the pinned post for some links to helpful posts. Under the "specific disabilities" section is a list for blind characters. I believe you'll find those helpful.

For your second question, there's so many options out there!

Something to remember is that most blind people have some remaining vision and many can still read print books, especially if they have access to large print versions or E-books with adjustable text sizes. My eyes aren't great but I'm still able to read regular sized print books if the font size is standard and clear. I can also read books with smaller print with the help of magnifying glasses. Depending on your character's level of vision, this could be something to consider.

For indoor/chill activities similar to reading, many are already accessible to blind folks or can easily be made accessible.

Watching TV/films, for example -- with or without audio description. Nowadays with streaming services and the internet, there is more availability of audio description. That said, it's still not always available. There are also some genres of shows/movies that are easy to follow along with even without audio description. I find that sitcoms such as New Girl or Modern Family are easier to follow compared to crime or medical dramas such as NCIS or House.

Listening to content without a visual aspect such as audiobooks, podcasts, and video essays (to a degree) can also be an option.

Playing cards/boardgames is another one. There are braille playing cards that you can buy and many classic board games (such as Scrabble or Monopoly) have braille versions available -- though usually unofficially. You can also get braille or otherwise tactile pieces custom made.

Braille labels are also a thing so games like poker, checkers, etc. can easily be made accessible too. Or, if you're cheap like me, the dollar store has those little raised stickers. My vision is especially bad in bright light so I've spent summers playing checkers and backgammon with little raised flower stickers on top of all the white pieces.

Art and sports also exist. Though blind people can paint and draw, there are also other forms of art that are more tactile such as sculpting, origami, jewelry making, etc. Many solo sports also wouldn't need any major accommodations either -- such as kayaking, hiking, rock climbing, skating, sledding, jogging, etc.

I can go on and on and on listing hobbies/activities -- herping, bird-watching, traveling, theatre, writing, music, dance, video games, cooking/baking, animal training, Dungeons and Dragons -- but my point is: most hobbies/activities can be made accessible for your character.

One piece of advice I'd offer for this: don't choose your character's hobbies based on what would be the most accessible/easiest for them to do. Pick your character's hobbies based on what they'd be most likely to be interested in/enjoy and then go from there to figure out how they can do it.

This would go a long way in preventing your character from falling into certain problematic tropes/stereotypes and can also help you develop your character further.

When figuring out how your character can partake in their hobbies, consider the following questions:

What do they want to get out of the hobby? Is it something they do to relax? To stay in shape? To learn/develop a skill?

What kind of means do they have at their disposal? Are they able to afford/access actual assistive tools/technology/devices such as a braille labeler, audible ball (for sports such as football, soccer, etc.), or braille cards or do they have to DIY something?

How much time/money do they dedicate to this hobby? Is it just a passing interest or is it a passion of their's?

Do they have friends/family members with the same hobbies? Do they share materials with them? Do they do the hobby together?

Is there a disability community for the hobby?* Are they involved in the community?

*Some hobbies such as parasports have a more close-knit community and, depending on where your character's located, there may be recreational leagues for parasports they could join. There are also many artists collectives specifically for disabled artists/writers.

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus

[solarpunkani]

My Plans for Solarpunk Aesthetic Week 5

I'm so excited for SAesW 5!! I have plans, some more tenuous than others, so let's go over them together!

Crochet! I have a blanket I was working on, I'm not sure if I'll end up finishing that one, but I did also save a pattern for a bag I might start instead! I didn't get a lot of work shifts so I might even be able to finish a project this week??? Crazy

Speaking of crochet, I gave that sunflower bag I made a year back to a friend so they can hopefully sew a lining for it! Then I'll be able to wear it places without worrying about it stretching and stuff falling out of it!

Embroidery?! I got some embroidery floss for really cheap, and I still have some kits I've never finished, so if I feel courageous I might try and learn a new skill! I'd love to someday be able to add embroidery to my vest!

I have some peppers that are starting to ready that I might offer to some friends! I think right now its about 4 habaneros and maybe a small bellpepper? Unfortunately no mega load of tomatoes and peppers this year (YET) but I can still treat my friends to some morsels!

Collect seeds from my pollinator garden! Me and a friend are lowkey starting to collect seeds from our plants to make our own custom native plant mixes to our area--I've got some sunshine mimosa pods that should be ready within the week, and some leavensworth coreopsis seeds that I think are ready if I can go collect on a not-rainy day sometime soon!

While I'm out there I might weed my garden, the white beggarticks are going crazymode and I need to clean things up before they take over entirely

Speaking of gardening! On the 21st there's a big plant sale a few hours away from me that I'm gonna go to--hopefully I'll get there in time to swipe up some of the sandhill milkweed seedlings they're selling!

I've been doing a decent bit of IRL activism stuff, and on the 21st there's also gonna be a big block party to celebrate a cafe's anniversary that a bunch of us are gonna be at! Communing with a lot of friends and like-minded homies is gonna be crazy fun!

I might try to work on some of my solarpunk stories, or try and draw! Maybe I'll try solarpunkifying one of my OCs or something? Who knows!

I also might try and write a solarpunk-adjacent essay of some sorts, but I haven't picked a topic yet...

Who knows how much of this I'll end up doing? There's only one way to find out! Fingers crossed!

[vixxxsos]

The Fifth Member - Chapter Two

Pairing: Luke Hemmings x Reader Genre/Themes: Friends to Enemies to Lovers Warnings: Angst, Emotional Turmoil, Slow Burn Word count: 6.834K Author's Note: Very poorly revised again.

Synopsis: Y/N was always there. Before the sold-out arenas, the chart-topping albums, the global tours—she was there. A constant in the chaos, the fifth member who didn’t need a mic or a spotlight. She didn’t play an instrument, couldn’t carry a tune to save her life, but she was family. She was home.

To the fans, she was the girl in the background of every backstage photo, the laugh behind every chaotic livestream, the one who always seemed to be right where the band needed her. Until one day… she wasn’t.

No announcements. No explanations. Just gone.

Now, years later, the world sees the band rebuilding. But behind closed doors, there’s a name they still don’t say out loud. A silence heavier than any breakup song they’ve ever written. Because losing her wasn’t just a fallout—it was the unraveling of everything they used to be.

And for Y/N? Disappearing wasn’t the end of the story.

It was only the beginning.

2016

There was a time when I thought we would always be the same.

We met when we were barely more than kids—just a group of teenagers crammed into a tiny apartment, surviving off instant ramen and cheap beer, riding the high of the band’s first taste of success. Back then, it was all about the music. The late-night songwriting sessions, the dumb Twitter fights, the shared playlists, the endless road trips where we took turns sleeping on top of each other in the van.

They weren’t just my best friends. They were my family.

And I was theirs.

Even though I wasn’t part of the band, the fans called me the honorary fifth member. I didn’t write the songs, didn’t play an instrument, didn’t belong on stage—but I was always there. I was the one filming their behind-the-scenes chaos, the one making them coffee at 3 AM when they were too exhausted to function, the one yelling at them to clean the apartment when it got too disgusting to bear.

It was easy. It was home.

But home doesn’t stay the same forever.

At first, having my own apartment felt like a win.

I had spent a long time crammed into that tiny place with the boys, stepping over their dirty laundry, waking up to someone’s guitar riff at ungodly hours, and dealing with their collective inability to do basic chores. So when I finally got my own place, it felt like breathing fresh air.

And for a while, they still treated it like home.

They would show up unannounced, ignoring that now all of them were living in bigger separate houses, crashing on my couch like they used to, ordering takeout and making a mess of my kitchen. They missed the way things used to be just as much as I did. And for a little while, that gave me hope.

Hope that we wouldn’t change. That no matter how famous they got, no matter how wild their lives became, I would always be their person. The one they came back to when the cameras were off and the parties were over.

But hope is a funny thing. It sticks around long after it should’ve died.

The visits became less frequent.

At first, they’d cancel plans at the last minute—too tired, too busy, caught up in something “super important” but never important enough to explain. Then they stopped making plans altogether. The nights in my apartment turned into nights at exclusive parties, the inside jokes turned into things I wasn’t in on anymore, and the texts started feeling more like updates than conversations.

I wasn’t part of their world the way I used to be. And the truth was, I didn’t want to be.

I was working on my degree, spending hours buried in textbooks, running on energy drinks and stress. While they were out drinking and partying with celebrities, I was writing essays and studying for finals. Their world felt too loud, too fast, too full of people I didn’t care about.

I still supported them, of course. I listened to the music. I watched the interviews. But all the stupid sides of their fame? The rumors, the drama, the social media hysteria? I had no patience for it.

I was too busy building something for myself. Something that wasn’t tied to them.

And maybe that was the real problem.

Because when I started drifting away, none of them pulled me back.

It started slowly. Little things I barely noticed at first.

Ashton was drinking more. First at parties, then backstage, then in the middle of the day. Always with a grin, always saying he had it under control. He didn’t have time for our long conversations anymore. And now I felt older than him, older than all of them.

Calum was drifting. He used to be my person—the one who always noticed when I was off, the one who could read me without a single word. Now, he was always somewhere else. At a club. With a different girl every week. Acting like nothing mattered, like we didn’t matter.

Michael, once the awkward, loud one, now slipping into the same lifestyle—parties, expensive clubs, famous friends. He was dating now. Chelsea. She was actually cool, the kind of girl I might’ve been friends with. She even tried, reaching out, texting me little things, making an effort.

But me and the boys were already drifting apart.

And Luke…

He was the hardest to lose. Because Luke had always been everything.

I used to know him better than I knew myself.

I knew the way he scrunched his nose when he was concentrating, the way his fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt when he was nervous. I knew that he still played the same old guitar he had since we were teenagers, the one with the chipped edges and fading stickers. I knew that he had this habit of looking at me when he laughed, like he wanted to make sure I was laughing too.

And I knew that I loved him.

Not that it mattered. I kept that to myself, buried it so deep even I could almost pretend it wasn’t there.

But now? Now, he barely looked at me at all.

He had a girlfriend. A real one, not just another random model he flirted with at parties. And she hated me.

At first, I thought I was imagining it. But then I started noticing the way she clung to him when I was around, the way she whispered things in his ear, the way she rolled her eyes when I spoke.

And Luke—my Luke—started changing.

He laughed too loud, but never with me. He went to places I didn’t belong, with people I didn’t recognize. He was reckless in a way that wasn’t fun anymore. And worst of all, he looked at me like I was a stranger.

I don’t know when it started.

One day, he was Luke, my best friend—the one who used to sneak into my room at three in the morning to show me a new song, the one who would steal my fries and claim they “tasted better” off my plate, the one who never needed an excuse to be around me.

And then, suddenly, he was Luke & Alyssa.

She was everything Hollywood loved—gorgeous, effortless, the kind of girl who looked perfect in candids and had that cool, untouchable aura. And Luke? He was obsessed.

I remember the first time I met her. It was at some afterparty, one of those industry events where I already felt out of place. The boys had dragged me there, insisting it would be fun, and I had barely walked in when Luke was pulling me over, hand gripping my wrist too tight, eyes practically shining.

"Y/N, this is Alyssa."

I had never seen him look at someone like that before.

She had been polite, even sweet in a distant kind of way. Complimented my dress, asked me about school. But the entire time, she had this look—like she was trying to figure me out, categorize me. And when Luke wasn’t looking, she would tilt her head, studying me, almost as if she already knew.

I didn’t belong in their world.

And maybe she was right, because the deeper Luke fell for her, the further he drifted from me.

At first, I tried to ignore it. I told myself it was normal—he was in love, caught up in something new. But then it became impossible to pretend. The parties got worse, the drinking became constant, and Luke started carrying himself like he had something to prove. He was always performing, even offstage, like he had to be someone bigger, louder, better just to keep up.

And Alyssa was right there beside him, wrapped around his arm, whispering in his ear.

I watched it all from the outside, biting my tongue until it bled. Because what was I supposed to say? That I hated the way she looked at me when Luke wasn’t paying attention? That I hated the way he looked at her like she had all the answers? That I hated—

That I hated her?

No.

I didn’t hate her.

I hated what she turned him into.

And I hated that he let her.

I tried not to be bitter about it.

About any of it.

People change. Friends grow apart. It’s just life.

But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

                                                                  ***

The moment I realized Alyssa wasn’t just some girlfriend Luke would eventually grow out of—the moment I knew she was going to ruin everything—happened at a party.

It was one of those events I never used to be invited to, but suddenly, I was. Whether that was because of the boys’ rising fame or because Luke still insisted on keeping me in his orbit, I didn’t know.

It was at some penthouse in the hills, a sea of industry people who all had the same effortless air of belonging. Everyone was someone, and the ones who weren’t spent the whole night trying to prove otherwise. I hated these parties. I hated the small talk, the way people’s eyes scanned the room while you were talking to them, always looking for someone more important.

And I hated the way Luke was in these places.

He wasn’t the boy who used to scribble lyrics on napkins with me in the diner. He wasn’t the boy who once stayed up until sunrise because I was having a bad night.

No.

Here, he was Luke Hemmings. The one with his arm slung lazily around Alyssa’s waist, drinking from a bottle of expensive liquor straight from the source, grinning at people I had never seen before.

And I?

I was just trying not to throw my drink in someone’s face.

"Y/N, there you are!" Alyssa’s voice rang out like I had been summoned. I turned from where I had been lingering near the bar, gripping my glass too tightly.

She approached with that perfect, lazy confidence that came naturally to girls like her—girls who knew they had the power in any room they walked into. She was draped in something sleek and black, her makeup flawless, her manicured fingers wrapped around a martini glass like it was an extension of her hand.

Luke followed just a step behind, his expression relaxed, eyes flicking between the two of us like he was oblivious to the tension curling in my stomach.

"I was starting to think you bailed," Alyssa said smoothly, taking a slow sip from her drink.

I raised an eyebrow. "Didn’t realize my attendance was so crucial."

She let out a light laugh, almost like she was amused by me. "Oh, of course it is. You’re basically part of the band, aren’t you?" She glanced at Luke as she said it, her hand running down his arm like she was reminding him of something.

I stared at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

And then, with a tilt of her head and a saccharine smile, she added, "I mean, I can’t imagine what it’s like, watching them grow so much, change so much. It must be… strange. I bet you never expected things to get this big, right?"

I heard it for what it was.

A reminder.

I wasn’t one of them.

I was the friend who had tagged along from the beginning, but now? Now they were famous, and I was just me.

Luke laughed lightly, like he didn’t notice the venom laced beneath her words. "Come on, Alyssa, don’t be weird," he said, though his tone was affectionate, like she had simply made an awkward joke.

Not like she had just stuck a knife between my ribs.

I forced a smile, swallowing back the sudden lump in my throat. "Yeah," I said, my voice too even. "It is strange."

And with that, I downed the rest of my drink, ignoring the way my hands shook.

But it didn’t stop there.

Later that night, I was outside on the balcony, needing air, needing space, when I overheard them.

Alyssa, leaning into Luke’s side, her voice a perfect mix of sweetness and concern.

"She just seems different lately. Don’t you think?"

Luke hesitated. "What do you mean?"

"I don’t know…" Alyssa trailed off, like she was reluctant to say it. Like it was hard for her to be so considerate. "She’s just… distant. Cold, even. Maybe she just doesn’t relate to us anymore."

Us.

Luke hummed, thoughtful. And then?

Then he said, "I mean… yeah. Maybe."

Like he agreed.

Like he didn’t even fucking question it.

And that was when I knew.

She didn’t just hate me.

She was making sure he did too.

                                                                  ***

I should’ve known this was a bad idea.

The second I step inside, I can tell this isn’t my kind of party. Everything is too loud, too polished, too not us. Expensive perfume clings to the air, mixing with alcohol and smoke, and the whole place is filled with the kind of people who look like they belong in a magazine. Everyone is effortlessly cool—perfect outfits, perfect hair, perfect vibe.

I used to feel at home at these things. Back when it was just us, when the parties were chaotic and stupid and fun. But now?

Now, I don’t know where I’m supposed to stand.

I spot the boys easily. Ashton is already halfway through a drink, laughing too loudly at something a stranger is saying. Calum is leaning against a wall, some girl draped over him, barely acknowledging her. Michael is off with Chelsea, and honestly, they’re the only ones who seem remotely normal.

And then there’s Luke.

He’s standing with Alyssa and a group of people I don’t recognize. He looks good—the kind of good that makes my stomach twist because I know he doesn’t even have to try. 

He’s not the boy I met all those years ago. His hair is darker now, his fringe pushed to the side. The stubble on his jaw has grown into a beard he no longer bothers to shave. His clothes are different, too—dark, sleek, carefully put together in a way that looks careless. He wears boots now instead of Vans or Converse, standing taller, sharper, like the world has molded him into something unrecognizable. A perfect fuckboy. A perfect match for Alyssa, who is practically attached to his side, leaning in to whisper something in his ear that makes him laugh.

And then his eyes flicker up and land on me. For a second, I think—maybe—I’ll get something. A smile, a word, some sign that I still exist in his world.

Instead, he gives me a small nod. Just that—a nod, like I’m a stranger he barely remembers.

No warmth. No Luke.

I force myself to walk deeper into the party, trying to shake the feeling that I shouldn’t have come. Chelsea invited me. She wanted me here. That has to mean something, right?

I pass a small group of girls, and that’s when I hear it.

"What is she even wearing?" one of them whispers.

"I don’t know," another giggles. "It’s kind of… I don’t know. Basic?"

"Yeah, doesn’t really fit the vibe."

They laugh. Just a quiet, meaningless little giggle. Probably nothing to them. Just a passing comment, forgotten in seconds.

But to me? It’s everything.

Because when did my friends become like this?

When did they start surrounding themselves with people who talk like that? Who judge someone based on something as stupid as clothes?

When did I become someone who doesn’t fit?

I don’t say anything. I don’t even turn around to see if they’re still looking at me. I just stand there, swallowing hard, gripping my drink so tight my fingers hurt.

And then, without thinking, I move.

I walk out without saying goodbye. I slip through the crowd unnoticed. Maybe—just for a second—I hope someone will notice. That someone will call after me, ask me to stay.

But no one does.

                                                               ***

I stare at the shelves, my eyes scanning over the different bags of chips, but my mind is somewhere else.

It’s been a while since Calum made plans with me.

Not just a casual “Let’s catch up” text that never actually leads to anything, but real plans. Last night, he called out of nowhere, his voice warm and familiar, just like it used to be.

"Miss you, we should hang out. Just us. Like before."

It was stupid how much that simple sentence made me smile. How much hope it gave me.

So here I am, standing in the snack aisle, debating between sour candy and chocolate, trying to ignore the stupid warmth in my chest at the thought of having him back, even just for a night.

And then I see him.

A few aisles down, near the liquor section.

His cart is full—several bottles of expensive whiskey, vodka, and tequila stacked on top of each other. He’s leaning against it, phone pressed to his ear, a lazy smirk on his face.

"Yeah, man, I’ll bring enough for everyone. It’s gonna be insane. Tell them to come through."

My fingers tighten around the bag of chips in my hands.

He doesn’t see me. He just keeps talking, laughing about something, completely oblivious.

For a second, I just stand there, watching.

I don’t know what I expected. Maybe some part of me actually believed that this time, he meant it. That he really missed me. That tonight would be different. That it wouldn’t be like all the other times—plans that fell apart, promises that didn’t mean anything.

But it’s not different.

It’s the same as it’s always been.

The hope I had last night feels stupid now, and I hate that I let myself have it in the first place.

I stay there until he pays and walks out, never once looking in my direction.

Then I put the snacks back on the shelf and leave too.

                                                      ***

Ashton stumbled into my apartment that night, barely managing to stay upright. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol, suffocating and sharp, making my chest tighten. His eyes were glassy, distant—like he wasn’t even here. Not really.

I barely had time to react before he collapsed onto the couch, exhaling a breath that was more like a groan.

"Hey," I said carefully, trying to keep my voice steady. But the worry was already there, curling in the pit of my stomach. "What are you doing here, Ash? You’re drunk."

He didn’t respond at first, just sat there, staring at nothing.

"Ash," I tried again, stepping closer, searching for something in his expression. "What’s going on with you?"

His head rolled slightly to the side, his lips parting as if he had something to say, but nothing coherent came out.

"I—I don’t know," he finally mumbled, his voice thick and slurred. "I just... I don’t feel... like myself."

The words hit harder than I expected. A deep, bitter truth I wasn’t prepared to hear. I used to know him better than anyone. I used to fix things when he was hurting. But this? This was a stranger sitting in front of me.

"Ash, talk to me," I pressed, kneeling in front of him. "What happened?"

His eyes flickered, unfocused, like he was trying to grasp onto a thought too far away. He sighed heavily, shoulders slumping under the weight of whatever was clawing at him.

"You’re different," he whispered, barely audible. "Still hot, but different."

I blinked. "Hot?"

"Yeah. Like... super beautiful and stuff." His words were clumsy, hazy, but honest.

I scoffed. "I thought you were like my older brother, Ash."

"I am," he said, then grinned lazily. "Not blind, though."

I let out a small laugh, shaking my head, but it faded when I saw the sudden shift in his expression. His eyes welled up with tears, his breath hitching like something had just cracked open inside him.

"Ashton," I said, my voice softer now. "What happened to you?"

He didn’t answer. He just slouched further, mumbling things I couldn’t understand.

I knew I wouldn’t get anything out of him in this state. So I did the only thing I could do. I helped him. I pulled him up and guided him toward the bathroom, turning on the shower and making sure the water was cold enough to jolt him back to reality.

I sat outside the bathroom door while he showered, listening to the steady stream of water and the occasional shuddered breath. It felt like forever before I saw a hint of clarity in his face.

Later, he sat on the edge of my bed, his wet hair dripping onto his shirt, his hands clasped together as if trying to steady himself. His eyes were clearer, but there was still something there—something lost.

"I miss you," he said, voice barely above a whisper.

I blinked, caught off guard. The words were simple, but they carried so much weight, like they had been held in for too long.

"I miss you too," I admitted. But as I said it, I knew it wasn’t the same. He wasn’t the same. And the realization of that was crushing me.

I stayed beside him while he drifted off to sleep, his body curled into the blankets like they were the only comfort he had left. I tried to sleep, too, but my mind wouldn’t stop spinning.

The apartment was eerily quiet when I woke up. For a second, I thought he had left. But when I got up, I found him still in bed, turned away from me, his breathing deep and steady.

I sighed and nudged his shoulder. "Ash, wake up."

He groaned, burying his face into the pillow.

"You need to call one of the guys," I told him. "Someone needs to pick you up."

He mumbled something under his breath before reaching for his phone. A few minutes later, he muttered, "Calum’s coming."

I made coffee while he sat at the kitchen table, rubbing his temples like the night before was just a bad dream. Neither of us spoke much.

When Calum finally knocked on the door, Michael was with him. They both looked at Ashton, then at me, and I could tell they wanted to say something, but they didn’t.

"You guys want pancakes?" I asked instead, forcing some normalcy into the moment.

Michael’s face lit up. "Hell yeah, we do."

And just like that, we were sitting around my kitchen table, eating pancakes like we had done so many times before at diners in the middle of nowhere. The tension eased, laughter slipping into the conversation like it belonged there.

At some point, I smirked and looked at Ashton. "You called me hot and then passed out."

He groaned, hiding his face in his hands. "Oh, God."

Calum and Michael burst out laughing.

When they finally left, I stood by the door, watching them walk down the hall. Something inside me felt different—lighter.

Maybe… maybe there was still something left to salvage.

                                                   ***

Luke had adopted a dog. Petunia was big and gentle—just like him. She followed him everywhere, her wide, adoring eyes always looking up at him like he hung the damn moon. And Luke? He was obsessed with her. Always gushing about how he finally had a pet now that he lived alone.

Well… with Alyssa.

I never said anything, but the way he phrased it—now that he lived alone—always made something bitter settle in my chest. Like he was rewriting the past, erasing the years where we were all practically inseparable. But I bit my tongue, just like I always did.

Then one day, he called, voice breezy, like he was asking me for the smallest favor in the world.

"Hey, can you watch Petunia for a couple of days?"

He and Alyssa were going somewhere—I didn’t bother listening to where. Before I could even argue, he was already at my door, flashing me that same easy smile that used to make me cave every time.

"Thanks, you're the best," he said, handing me the leash before turning to Petunia. "Be good, Piggy. I’ll be back before you know it."

And just like that, he was gone.

Except he wasn’t back before I knew it.

Two days turned into four. Four turned into a week. No calls. No texts. Just silence.

I wasn’t even mad about taking care of Petunia—I loved her. But the longer he stayed gone, the more the anger curled in my gut. It wasn’t about the dog. It was about him.

Where the hell was he? Why was it always like this now? Like I was just some afterthought—someone he could dump his responsibilities on and forget about until it was convenient for him?

By the time he finally showed up, standing at my door with that same fucking grin, like nothing was wrong, something inside me snapped.

The second Petunia heard his voice, she barreled out of my room, paws skidding against the floor as she launched herself straight into his arms.

Luke barely had time to kneel before she crashed into him, her tail wagging so hard it shook her whole body. He laughed, burying his face in her fur, scratching behind her ears the way he knew she loved.

"Piggy! I missed you so much," he murmured, his voice dripping with affection.

I crossed my arms, leaning against the doorframe, watching him pour all that love and warmth into her—like he hadn’t just fucking disappeared for a week.

"Wow," I said, my voice sharp enough to cut. "Must be nice to finally remember you have a dog."

He looked up, still grinning, like this was just some casual catch-up and not the first time he’d bothered to show his face in seven goddamn days.

"Oh, come on," he said, shaking his head. "You know she was in good hands."

I scoffed. The audacity.

"That’s not the fucking point, Luke."

His smile faltered just a little before he sighed and stood up, rubbing a hand over his face. "Alright, I’m sorry. We got caught up in—"

"In what?" I cut in, my voice sharp and unrelenting. "Alyssa? Whatever trip you two were on? You were supposed to pick her up days ago, Luke. Do you even care how that made me feel?"

His jaw clenched. The easygoing mask he always wore flickered for a moment, but I caught it.

"Of course, I care," he said, his voice tighter now.

"Do you?" I shot back. "Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it. You didn’t even check in. You just fucking vanished. That’s what you do now, isn’t it? Disappear whenever it’s convenient for you."

His eyes darkened, a storm rolling in behind them. "That’s not fair."

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. "Isn’t it?"

The air between us felt suffocating now, the tension so thick I could barely breathe through it. This wasn’t just about Petunia anymore. It was about us.

"You’ve changed, Luke. And not in a good way."

His nostrils flared as he raked a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling just under the surface.

"I’m still the same person," he argued, his voice quieter now, but firm, like he was daring me to contradict him.

I didn’t even hesitate. "No, you’re not. The Luke I knew wouldn’t have done this. He wouldn’t have treated me like some fucking afterthought."

Something in his expression cracked, but he covered it up just as fast.

"And what about you?" he challenged, his voice sharpening to match mine. "You act like nothing’s changed, like we’re still the same kids, but we’re not. We don’t live in each other’s pockets anymore. I have a life. You have a life. That doesn’t mean I don’t care about you."

I scoffed, the words stinging more than they should have.

"It feels like you don’t," I snapped.

Luke exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face, his patience unraveling at the seams.

"Jesus, why are you acting like this?"

I scoffed, shaking my head in disbelief. "Because I’m sick of your bullshit, Luke. You only care about yourself. Calum only gives a fuck about where he puts his dick, Michael’s too busy sucking up to his celebrity friends to give a shit about anyone else, and Ashton—" I let out a humorless laugh. "Ashton is a goddamn drunk, and no one’s doing a fucking thing about it."

Luke’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening. But I wasn’t done.

"And you—" I jabbed a finger at his chest, fury pouring out of me in waves. "You’re too busy playing house with your fucking pick-me-girl to notice anything!"

Luke let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking his head like I was being ridiculous.

"Oh, fuck off," he spat. "Just say what you really mean. You’re jealous, aren’t you? You can’t stand that I’m with Alyssa. That I don’t drop everything for you anymore."

I scoffed, rolling my eyes, but he wasn’t finished.

"You know what? Alyssa told me." His voice was cutting now, colder than I’d ever heard it. "She said you had a thing for me. And I ignored it—I told her she was wrong, that we were just friends. But now?" He let out a bitter laugh, raking a hand through his hair. "Now, I think she must be right. I mean, come on, Y/N. I don’t even remember seeing you with anyone in all the years we’ve known each other.”

My breath caught in my throat.

It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

And then I laughed. A dark, empty sound that echoed through the space between us.

"You really believe that?" I stepped closer, my voice shaking with fury. "You think I’m mad because I want you? You really fucking think I’m jealous?"

His lips parted slightly, like he expected me to deny it, to shrink back, but I didn’t.

Instead, I laughed harder. "You think that just because you never saw me hook up with someone, that means I never did? What, should I have filmed it for you? Sent you proof?"

His face flickered with something—anger, regret, maybe even shame—but I didn’t let him speak.

"I have goals, Luke," I spat. "An actual fucking life outside of you. Unlike you, I didn’t let a relationship completely derail me."

I tilted my head, my glare cutting straight through him. "Let me make something very clear, Luke. I’m not stupid enough to be in love with you."

I watched as the words hit him like a slap.

"Even if I was," I continued, sharp as glass, "I would never act on it. Because your friendship—" I scoffed, shaking my head, "or whatever the fuck this is—was too important to me."

Silence.

Luke just stood there, staring at me like he didn’t recognize the person in front of him.

But I wasn’t done.

"But you? You don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself. You only care about drinking, going to parties, fucking Alyssa, and pretending like none of this is your fault."

His nostrils flared, but I pushed on, ruthless now.

"And Alyssa?" I let out a low, humorless laugh. "She’s not just a bitch, Luke. She’s a manipulative, self-obsessed, gold-digging, two-faced cunt who only wants you because she likes the attention. And you—" I shook my head, eyes burning, "you’re too fucking blind to see it."

I saw the flicker of anger in his expression, the way his shoulders tensed, but I didn’t care.

"You think she’s so in love with you?" I sneered. "You’re just another name to her. Another prize. And when she’s done playing house, she’ll leave you just like she’s left every other guy before you."

His mouth opened slightly, like he wanted to say something, maybe defend her, maybe himself—but I wasn’t going to let him.

"And you know what?" I took another step forward, my voice dropping to a near whisper. "I pray she fucks you over so badly that by the time you finally realize I was right, it’s too late."

He flinched. Just a little. But I caught it.

I exhaled sharply, stepping back, the weight of everything crashing down on me all at once. "Take your fucking dog, Luke. And don’t come back."

For a moment, he didn’t move.

Then, without a word, he reached for Petunia’s leash, clipped it on, and walked out the door.

And just like that, he was gone.

                                                            ***

Months had passed since the fight with Luke. We hadn’t spoken since.

For weeks, I waited, hoping he’d show up with his tail between his legs, so we could finally talk—really talk—and fix things. But deep down, I knew our friendship was beyond repair.

I hadn’t heard from the other boys either. Even in our worst moments, they would still check in, send a text, a meme, something to remind me they were still there. But now? Nothing. It felt like they had chosen Luke’s side, or maybe they just didn’t care enough to reach out. I didn’t know if he told them what happened or if they just decided, on their own, that I wasn’t worth the effort anymore.

And that hurt. God, it hurt.

Because they were my family. The only family I had in this city. We had built something real, something that felt unshakable, but somewhere along the way, cracks had formed. I couldn't even pinpoint when it happened. Maybe it was after the endless midweek parties I couldn’t go to because of college. Or on one of the tours I had to sit out because I couldn’t drop everything and travel for months like they could. Maybe it was when they started surrounding themselves with the real LA crowd—the famous, the beautiful, the reckless.

Luke was right, in all our years of friendship, I never really dated. Never even tried. I knew Luke didn’t see me that way, but how could I think about anyone else when I had this giant, golden-haired idiot sleeping in my bed three or four nights a week, clinging to me like I was his anchor? I would have given up anything for his friendship.

And now, it felt like I was going through a breakup. A brutal, messy breakup—with four people at the same time.

A part of me had always believed we’d find our way back to each other. That no matter how much distance formed between us, there would always be something pulling us back. But now? Now I had to accept that Michael would never yell at me for yelling at him again. We’d never bleach our hair together or spend hours on my couch, him furiously mashing buttons on his controller while I pretended to care about his game.

I had to accept that I couldn’t go to Ashton anymore when my brain felt like a battlefield, when I needed someone who understood me in a way no one else ever had. I’d never hear his soft giggles again, or listen to his stupid deep thoughts at 2 AM, or see those green eyes looking at me like he saw right through me.

My nights would be spent tossing and turning, sleepless and alone, without Calum’s arms around me, grounding me. No more lazy conversations while I stress-baked cookies, no more of his teasing flirtation—flirting I only ever practiced with him, because I was too much of a coward to say those things to the person I actually wanted.

Someone like Luke.

Luke, with his blue eyes and hair that smelled like my shampoo. With his stupid, cocky grin and his tongue peeking between his teeth. But also—Luke, who held my hand when we watched horror movies. Luke, who rested his head on my lap while I read. Luke, who sang off-key to the radio as if he wasn’t literally a professional singer. The boy who shared my mornings, my jokes, my secrets. My best friend.

I couldn’t grieve all of that without losing my mind.

So I chose anger instead.

Why should I sit around, miserable and heartbroken, while they partied and moved on like I never existed? Why should I cry over people who threw me away like I was nothing? Who forgot about me so easily, after everything I had given them?

No.

If they were done with me, then I would be done with them too.

Luke’s words replayed in my head on an endless loop.

At first, I was furious. White-hot, all-consuming rage. Then, the sadness crept in, swallowing everything whole—just to circle back to anger again.

And God, I hated Alyssa. Hated her in ways I never thought myself capable of. Some nights, I wished I could wake up, check Twitter, and see the news that she’d been hit by a bus. Or better yet, dead.

Every time I watched an interview with the boys and saw the dark circles under Luke’s eyes—the way he looked hollow, like a soulless shell of himself—I wanted to rip those cheap hair extensions right off her head. Every time I saw paparazzi shots of them leaving a party, or her Instagram posts flaunting her famous boyfriend like some kind of trophy, I wanted to rip her apart piece by piece, starting with her perfectly manicured nails.

Fucking bitch.

How could I be the only one who saw what was happening? How could the others just stand by and let her sink her claws into him? Did they really not notice, or did they just not care?

I spent months like that. Cycling through every stage of grief, over and over again. Deleting my social media accounts wasn’t enough. I created new ones—private, anonymous, free of any connection to them, free of any trace of the life I used to have. No pictures of me, no followers who knew my name. I needed to disappear, to carve out a space where I wasn’t drowning in reminders of everything I had lost.

And then, in the middle of all that anger and hurt, I found a lifeline.

A scholarship. Boston.

It was my way out. My fresh start. A place where no one knew me as Luke’s best friend or as the girl who used to be part of their world. I could be someone else—someone whose life wasn’t defined by the absence of four people who didn’t even care enough to check in.

So I applied.

And for the first time in months, I felt something other than anger. Hope.

The moment I hit submit on the application, something shifted. It wasn’t instant relief—not even close—but it was the first step toward something that didn’t feel like suffocating. A small crack of light in the darkness.

I didn’t tell anyone. There was no one left to tell. But I carried that secret like a talisman, something just for me. If I got in, I was gone. Out of LA, out of this toxic cycle of grief and rage. Away from the reminders of them, of him.

Weeks passed. Then months. The pain dulled, but it never really left. I still saw them sometimes—flashes of their faces on my timeline when I forgot to filter my feed, echoes of our memories in places I couldn’t bring myself to visit. But I held onto that hope, onto the idea that soon, I’d be somewhere far away from all of it.

Then the email came.

Congratulations! We are pleased to offer you…

I didn’t even finish reading before the tears started. It was real. My way out was real.

I gave myself one night to grieve it all one last time. One night of crying so hard my ribs ached, of staring at the ceiling and wondering if any of them missed me, if they ever thought about calling. If Luke ever regretted the things he said.

Then, in the morning, I got to work.

Packing up my apartment felt surreal. Every item I shoved into a box felt like closing a chapter I hadn’t been ready to end. I sorted through everything, deciding what to take and what to leave behind. There was only one box that wasn’t mine—the one filled with the things the boys had left at my place over the years.

A few T-shirts, a hoodie that still smelled like cologne, some guitar picks, an old beanie I had stolen from Calum that he never bothered to take back. Stupid things, small things, but they felt heavier than anything else in my apartment.

I didn’t have it in me to throw them away, but I sure as hell wasn’t bringing them with me.

So I left the box with the doorman, told him it was for them, in case any of them ever came looking for their things.

Not that they would.

By the time I boarded my flight to Boston, I felt weightless. Not because I wasn’t hurting anymore, but because I was finally moving forward.

[chatonarya]

One Of The Hypergryph Writers Is A Fujo: A Crack Theory

I can't believe I'm writing this, but here we go.

About a year ago, when the Break The Ice drama CD was first announced, it came to my attention via a certain joke that it was not the first time Midorikawa Hikaru and Konishi Katsuyuki (the Japanese VAs of Gnosis and Enciodes respectively) would be starring in a drama CD together--though this previous drama CD was a BL drama CD from 2005, based off of the R-18 manga of the same title, ...Virgin Love. I was highly amused and made an appropriate meme to commemorate this newfound knowledge, which you can see below.

Then through a few generous connections and kind souls, I managed to obtain a copy of this ancient disc, whereupon I gave it a listen for the sake of some cheap and cheesy entertainment.

I was surprised, however, to discover that not only are there multiple similarities between the Arknights and the disc's characters, plot, and setting, but they are... a little uncanny. This feeling only increased as I, out of some morbid curiosity, proceeded to track down and read the original manga (painful anatomy and all), and saw more startling similarities.

I realize this is an absolutely unhinged, unbridled tinfoil hat moment, but there are certain things which are so similar that they almost--almost--make me suspect someone at Hypergryph was somewhat or even vaguely familiar with this story, perhaps even on account of its voice drama (which was apparently popular enough to inspire the author to write two more volumes about the lead characters), and possibly even used it for inspiration for the plotline and relationship of the two characters who share these 90s yaoi mens' voices: Enciodes and Gnosis.

(Please take everything I am going to say with a grain of salt.)

The Setting

...Virgin Love takes place in the extended "Toudou universe" created by author Fujisaki Kou. It forms the setting for the "Beast" series which spans some 20 volumes and explores different interconnected characters within this same universe, most of which (to my understanding) have some sort of connection to the Toudou Group company, hence the nickname, and which tend to be set in the corporate world. For the purposes of this essay, we will be looking at three connected volumes: ...Virgin Love, ...Junai no Seinen, and Men's Love, which focus primarily on a single couple (the side couple, actually) with a supporting cast from the other books and universe. There are two more volumes which focus on this couple (namely, Erotic ni Kojiakete and Otoko no Mikkai wa Bed no Naka de), but being as they are only available in Japanese on Japanese sites, I have not been able to obtain or read them, so I will preface this by saying that I have read only the VL (...Virgin Love) trilogy and listened to the drama CD, so I have supplemented some of the gaps in my knowledge with our good ol' friend TV Tropes.

The Characters

The lead couple of the VL trilogy consists of Daigo Mikihisa (the seme, played by Konishi) and Kirishima Kaoru (the uke, played by Midorikawa). (Though both experienced VAs, this was their first time being paired together for a BL drama.) Let's look at them one at a time.

Daigo:

The "Young Lion" of Mercury, Daigo is the managing director of the Japanese branch of the Mercury company at the young age of 27. In contrast to the many mentally unbalanced residents of the Toudou'verse, Daigo stands out as being a fairly normal and down to earth despite his background. On the job, he is extremely cool, capable, and professional, while being very laidback and big-hearted while he's off, including switching his speech pattern, and keeps his professional and personal faces quite separate.

His position also means that he cannot afford to display any weakness on the job, being exacting and merciless, though this doesn't prevent him from cracking a few times due to how deeply and intensely he is smitten; he falls very quickly and very hard for Kaoru. He faces intense pressure from his father in the third volume regarding Mercury, with his father attempting to force him into an arranged marriage advantageous to the company and break up his relationship with Kaoru.

He also has rather wavy hair, like a certain snow leopard.

Kaoru:

Kaoru works as a mid-level manager for the Toudou Group as the assistant and second-in-command to the president's secretary, his cousin Saijou Chiharu, with whom he has a somewhat vitriolic relationship (he and Chiharu grudgingly help and sometimes hinder each other's relationships); in volume 3, while Chiharu is away or occupied, Kaoru effectively takes his place to hold down the fort. He often overworks his subordinates, but despite it, is respected and liked due to the fact that he produces results and assumes responsibility for his subordinates' mistakes. A workaholic whose hobbies consist of drinking, smoking, or casual sex, he meets Daigo at his usual bar and is impressed by Daigo's extremely straight-forward proposal and invites him to have a one-night stand.

His cold and disdainful demeanor and somewhat abrasive tsundere personality conceal a deep insecurity and lack of self-worth, as well as an inexperience with intimacy and fear of vulnerability. These issues stem from his childhood neglect: his mother was an abusive man-eater and unable to maintain a stable relationship for long, inevitably driving her partners away through jealousy and obsessiveness, which she always blamed on Kaoru's existence. This left him determined to never become like her, and also extremely fearful of commitment.

He also has dark hair worn messily in a style similar to a certain crane.

The Plot

The plot revolves around the two mens' developing relationship as they try to balance their work and private lives and grapple with Kaoru's psychological issues. Throughout the narrative, there are quite a few striking similarities to Break The Ice and the Kjerag plot events, as well as certain things which could easily be extrapolated as in-character for Enciodes or Gnosis. I shall recap, whilst doing my best to refrain from inserting headcanon or personal theory.

-- As mentioned above, Daigo and Kaoru meet at a bar, where Kaoru feels someone staring intently at his back. When Kaoru turns around and stares back, Daigo acknowledges his interest and propositions him for a night. Kaoru, pleased and intrigued by his boldness, accepts. -> Enciodes also approaches Gnosis very boldly when they sneak aboard the train as children, and it's through his boldness speaking of Kjerag's weakness and need for change that Gnosis is won over by him.

-- Kaoru has a penchant for bondage as it gives him control of the situation and ties Daigo up before having sex with him, and does so repeatedly; though Daigo later asks him if they can go without it, he accepts it being a condition of continuing the relationship and doesn't complain, especially as it becomes a fixture of their sex life later on. -> Enciodes is very unperturbed by being tied up as a child. You can extrapolate.

-- Daigo also accepts the initial bondage as a fair form of payback when Kaoru is annoyed about the whole thing being a set-up and a dare from Daigo's friends. -> Again, Enciodes simply comments that he "should get used to this" regarding being tied up, as it's a consequence of Kjerag's weakness.

-- Related, Kaoru, despite being the uke, is fairly assertive in bed and likes to be on top to remain in control. -> Gnosis has an aggressive streak (feel free to take this as you will, even if it verges on headcanon territory).

Kaoru initially refuses to continue maintaining a sexual relationship with Daigo despite their chemistry as he feels that Daigo is dangerously addictive and vows to never see him again, but this is thwarted when they meet again in the professional sphere as Mercury pursues an alliance with the Toudou Group and Kaoru is put in charge of the account. Following this, their relationship continues.

-- Kaoru comments how completely Daigo switches off when he's not at work, and Daigo replies that there's no need for him to maintain his "company face" in front of Kaoru, and that Kaoru is the same. -> Enciodes always speaks to Gnosis without any pretense or facade, and vice versa.

-- Kaoru is caught off-guard by Daigo saying that he wants him. -> Gnosis, in general, is surprised by Enciodes throughout his oprec, and his gestures of acceptance and liking.

-- Kaoru and Daigo have a year's difference in age. -> Enciodes and Gnosis also have nearly a year gap between them.

-- Chiharu comments that Kaoru typically won't have anything to do with other people beyond strictly necessary. -> Gnosis shuns contact with others as well.

-- Kaoru tells Daigo that he's not his subordinate when Daigo asks him if something happened at the office. Yep. -> Gnosis is very clear to Enciodes that he is not Enciodes's subordinate.

-- Daigo talks about how he clearly divides his professional and private faces, how there isn't really anyone to help him and his position as the director of Mercury means that he has to be decisive and firm, and is happy when Kaoru immediately understands that if Daigo is too soft, the company will collapse. -> Enciodes draws a clear distinction between his personae, and his position also requires him to be merciless, and Gnosis is one of the people who understands this best.

-- Chiharu warns Daigo that Kaoru is surrounded by a wall of pride in which he isolates himself, and for his own sake, it's better that he break up with Kaoru as soon as possible. Daigo states he has no intention of letting Kaoru go. -> It's implied that Enciodes was heavily discouraged from continuing his friendship with Gnosis, but Enciodes ignored this for years. Similarly, Gnosis is an emotionally isolated person, something which stems from his ostracization and childhood neglect.

-- Kaoru is frosty to Daigo's school friends at the bar. -> Gnosis has nothing but disdain for Doctor, ostensible friends that Doctor is with Enciodes.

-- Daigo's friends describe him as someone who is alone despite being surrounded by many people and who rarely talks about himself and tends to go his own way. -> Enciodes is of similar character.

-- Daigo is pleased when Kaoru expresses jealousy over him despite it entailing a slap in the face, as it means Kaoru feels something for him. -> Enciodes is generally unperturbed by Gnosis's radical streak even if ends in harm to himself or his assets, such as the train explosion in BI. He also quite cheerily and accurately realizes Gnosis came to rescue him after being kidnapped despite Gnosis denying it.

-- Kaoru is repulsed by the idea of being in love with someone else, and is fearful of his "ugly self" and "the blood of madness" which flows within him which he refuses to acknowledge. -> Gnosis's father is the stereotypical archetype of the "mad sage", and Gnosis, also, possesses that 'madness' in his radical streak. Similarly, much as Kaoru is terrified of inheriting his mother's possessiveness and obsession, Gnosis sees himself as "the son of a sinner," branded by his father's mistakes and actions.

-- Kaoru desperately and stubbornly refuses to become like his mother and cuts off personal contact with Daigo. -> The thought of having to become like his father makes Gnosis want to run away from Kjerag.

-- Daigo, panicked, confesses that he's in love with Kaoru and can't bear to let him go, a sentiment that leaves Kaoru stunned. -> Enciodes is the first to tell Gnosis that he's starting to like him, a feeling that Gnosis doesn't really reply to.

-- Kaoru, cracking under his own emotions and fears and losing control of himself, is temporarily suspended from heading the Mercury account as his mistakes pile up, by suggestion of Daigo but further escalated by Chiharu. -> Enciodes temporarily suspends Gnosis from Karlan Trade following the "unapproved" incident in the valley and Gnosis's outburst.

-- Chiharu explains that Kaoru is slipping up too much to remain in charge of the Mercury project to Daigo, and that someone who gives up after a single rejection cannot be Kaoru's partner because Kaoru cannot so easily come out of his shell, and Daigo will soon find a better person. Daigo rejects this notion, stating that he feels that Kaoru is the only person who can meet him on his level, which Chiharu describes as "someone who has been fighting alone all his life meeting his match." -> Enciodes and Gnosis view and treat each other as equals and are the ones best able to understand each other's mindset, particularly being co-founders of Karlan Trade.

-- Daigo says that to know Kaoru's true feelings, it's better to ask his body directly. -> Gnosis, too, is very tsundere and his actions speak louder than words about his feelings.

-- Kaoru believes that Daigo will abandon him due to his true self being hideous and "abominable" (in other words, wracked by emotion, jealousy, and possessiveness just like his mother in the way he hates), but Daigo tells him that moment is when he's most beautiful and that he is beautiful. -> Gnosis asks Enciodes at the climax of Break The Ice whether "[Enciodes] would like to finish [him,] the traitor, and make this farce real", underlining the fact that everything he has done has been without Enciodes's explicit approval, questioning whether Enciodes wants to continue the partnership with him; Enciodes simply smiles and confirms that in his mind, Gnosis is still dear to him and everything else doesn't matter.

-- Kaoru tells Daigo that because Daigo called him "beautiful" while he was hideously twisted with jealousy, he's decided he won't hide that side of him anymore, and Daigo is completely unperturbed by this. -> Enciodes has always been accepting of Gnosis's radical streak for as long as they've known each other, and continues to be despite Gnosis's own fears as expressed in his first module ("Vow").

In the second volume, ...Junai no Seinen ("The Young Person's Pure Love"), the couple go through a rocky patch as Kaoru's insecurities and inexperience with intimate relationships flair up.

-- Daigo complains to himself that Kaoru's ambiguous comments sting more than he lets on. -> Gnosis frequently makes ambiguous statements that can be taken quite sharply, such as his insistence that Enciodes let him play the scapegoat in BI, and his snide remarks when they meet up again in Victoria.

-- Kaoru's subordinates like him better now that he has softened up somewhat thanks to his relationship with Daigo. -> Gnosis is much less abrasive in The Rides to Lake Silberneherze, and his relationship with Enciodes is much more harmonious than in Break The Ice; he and his work are also much more respected than in BI.

-- Even so, Daigo's friends point out that Kaoru is a scary person. -> The Karlan Trade employees also fear Gnosis.

-- Kaoru and Daigo are described as strangers or business partners by day, lovers by night. -> Enciodes and Gnosis have much more intimate conversations off the clock than on.

-- Daigo seeks more intimacy from Kaoru than he's willing to give at the moment. -> Enciodes is the softer one emotionally of the two, and the one who emphasizes their emotional bond far more, such as when he reminds Gnosis that Gnosis is his dearest friend.

-- Kaoru takes responsibility for one of his subordinate's shortcomings at a conference, stating that he did not give the man clear enough instructions. -> This is a bit tenuous, but Gnosis being a workaholic, CTO and Director of Karlan Trade, who's stated to care about the ends and not the means, it's not difficult to imagine him holding himself responsible for a mistake in such a way.

-- Kaoru has always enjoyed solitude since he was a child, and in fact took it as a blessing when he didn't have to be around people. -> Gnosis generally doesn't care for other people or being around them, nor dealing with them emotionally.

-- Kaoru has no intention of apologizing for telling Daigo off for losing his temper at work, despite Kaoru knowing no other way of expressing his feelings. -> Gnosis tells Enciodes off frequently regarding decisions he disagrees with, and never apologizes.

-- When Chiharu tells Kaoru to cut Daigo some slack lest he disappear like the "lesser men" before, Kaoru retorts that if Daigo was a lesser man, he wouldn't want him anyway. -> Gnosis is clear in his first module that should Enciodes falter or abandon their mutual dream in any way, he will cut ties with him. Additionally, Gnosis is of an exacting nature, and Enciodes mentions in BI that one must be capable of exceeding Karlan Trade's expectations to work with them. Gnosis also has high standards for his partners.

-- Kaoru struggles with classifying Daigo as a lover or as a sex friend (i.e. fuckbuddy), as one is an intimate relationship and the other has no strings attached. -> Again in his module, Gnosis worries about whether or not his relationship with Enciodes will survive their personality changes. Gnosis never calls Enciodes his "friend" outside of his oprec as a child, the rest of the time they are simply "partners-in-crime."

The last three chapters entail Kaoru playing Daigo against his ex-sex friend Ian Evans purely to satisfy his own ego and and insecurity as Daigo's jealousy makes him feel happy and wanted. This backfires when Daigo has enough of being toyed with and leaves, and I must say that there are much fewer similarities here, but there are still a few notable things.

-- Kaoru reflects that ever since he was a young, he has always been unwanted. -> This is mostly personal theory, but it's easy to read Gnosis's parents, particularly his father, as neglectful when Mr. Edelweiss frequently forgets Gnosis exists.

-- Chiharu notes that Kaoru has never been in love before, and doesn't know how to strike a balance in their relationship. -> Gnosis has precious few interpersonal relationships outside of Enciodes, and treats most people in an abrasive manner, similarly to the way he is tsun to Enciodes. His file again emphasizes that although he understands others' emotions, he has no energy for them; it's not difficult to surmise that Gnosis, due to his ostracization as a child and difficult personality, doesn't really have experience in relationships.

-- Chiharu also observes that Daigo has finally found his match in Kaoru, and loves him so much that he's willing to forgive anything. -> Again, Enciodes and Gnosis are equals mentally and intellectually, and Enciodes forgives essentially everything Gnosis does, up to potentially forgiving Gnosis even for being involved in his parents' murder.

-- Chiharu also comments that Kaoru has spent his entire life living in a shell, and now that he's come out of it and experienced the warmth of being loved, he can no longer return to the way he was before. -> Gnosis is changed by Enciodes's friendship, and Enciodes reaching out to him as a child changes the course of his life completely.

-- Kaoru grimly commits to getting past his break-up with Daigo despite how miserable he is. -> Gnosis commits to the outcome of the gambit in BI heedless of the unhappy consequences to himself or Enciodes, as well as accepting the negative effects of the events which happen outside of his control, such as his position and exile from Kjerag.

-- When Kaoru has a breakdown during a company party, Daigo realizes that Kaoru would hate losing his composure in public and knocks him out and carries him out. -> While not a direct parallel, Gnosis is also carried out elsewhere during what Degenbrecher refers to as one of his most emotional moments.

-- Daigo reflects that he's run away from his true self, and this is the consequence of his actions. -> Enciodes never shies away from the consequences of his actions.

-- Daigo comments to an unconscious Kaoru, "You've lost weight." Yes, really. -> I don't need to explain this one, I hope, as everyone should remember the way Enciodes opened up the "farce" in BI with that exact line.

-- Kaoru awkwardly apologizes for his behavior, and Daigo immediately forgives him. -> Enciodes always forgives Gnosis for everything.

-- Kaoru admits that he's been harsh to Daigo who has always been sweet to him and lets him take control of their relationship. -> Enciodes is the leader of the Karlan Trio, but Enciodes makes no move to stop Gnosis when he decides to do something (such as his plot in BI).

-- Daigo says Kaoru is much sweeter to him now. -> As I said above, Gnosis is much nicer to Enciodes in RS after their disagreements in BI.

In the third volume, Mens' Love, the relationship continues to develop, facing new challenges in the form of Daigo's blood relations this time. There are less parallels here, but for the sake of completion, I will cover it nonetheless.

-- Daigo is placed under extreme stress running the Japanese branch of Mercury, piled with impossible projects from the HQ that he nonetheless continues to accept in order to prove himself as capable of his position, as he is an illegitimate son, working himself to the point of exhaustion despite internal speculation that he is being intentionally ostracized. -> Enciodes often works late and comments on being tired, insisting on handling everything himself, heedless of whatever speculation may follow.

-- Kaoru is also under heavy stress in Chiharu's absence, and the lovers have no time to meet outside of business. -> Enciodes mentions in RS that he's been "increasingly busy with many things", implied to be personal matters, which are causing rumors to spread as he does not show his face in public often. Both Enciodes and Gnosis place business ahead of their personal matters.

-- Continued from above, Kaoru takes time to offer Daigo emotional support after hearing about his troubles from president Toudou, meeting Daigo late at night and lending him a sympathetic ear and a lap to sleep on. -> Gnosis emotionally supports and reassures Enciodes in RS during one of his most stressful moments, and comments that normally he would arrange care for Enciodes's wounded hands.

-- Kaoru is still baffled why Daigo puts up with someone like him. -> Again, Gnosis is somewhat abrasive in personality and regards himself as an outsider, but Enciodes is unfazed by this. It's not difficult to picture Gnosis unable to understand being liked when very few people do.

-- Daigo and Kaoru both admit that it was only thanks to the moral and emotional support of the other that they were able to accomplish their tasks flawlessly. -> Though they don't admit it as explicitly, being partners(-in-crime) allows Enciodes and Gnosis to achieve what they cannot do alone. Again, Gnosis supports Enciodes emotionally in RS, and Enciodes also supports Gnosis off the clock, particularly when he is drunk.

Daigo's father calls him from America to inform him that he has set up an arranged marriage for Daigo, one that will form a political alliance with another company and make him officially part of the family. Daigo refuses to break things off with Kaoru, but is given pause when his father reminds him that him being part of the family is his beloved mother's dearest wish.

The parallel here is more meta than anything--I couldn't help but be reminded of those accursed and hateful bloodline memes, albeit inverted. And while we have no evidence to suggest Olafur would impress such a thing upon his children, it is true that political marriages amongst the nobility were common. While I personally do not believe the marriage of Olafur and Elizabeth was politically motivated nor arranged in any way, I do think it is the connection the Duke of Caster used to make inroads into Kjerag, and perhaps even Olafur himself valued this connection though he may have not expected the Victorians to be quite so cruel or crafty. But this is merely speculation on my part.

-- A stark contrast is drawn between Daigo's mother and Kaoru's mother: though both raised their sons alone, Daigo's mother sacrificed her health for him and he wishes to see to her happiness, while Kaoru's mother never did anything for him but curse his existence. -> While Enciodes himself is somewhat and ironically dismissive of his father as a child, Gnosis idolizes and admires Olafur greatly, while shunning his own father, and the contrast between the forward-thinking and exploratory Olafur and the reclusive and ever reiterating Mr. Edelweiss is clear in Gnosis's eyes. In addition, Courier’s second oprec highlights how Enciodes takes after his mother Elizabeth.

-- Daigo's father sends some of his people to meet Kaoru in Japan, and they present Kaoru with a blank check to break up with Daigo and threatens to expose his orientation and force him to lose his job. -> While we don't have explicit evidence of such specific methods, we do know that nobody was happy to see Gnosis in Enciodes's company when they returned from Victoria together. Given the "sugar daddy" rumors, some underhanded business, potentially even bribery, is within the realm of plausibility.

-- Though initially disturbed by the news of Daigo supposedly getting married, Kaoru spends the night thinking it through and concludes that Daigo must be trapped or manipulated in some form of guilt or obligation rather than remaining in America by choice. -> Enciodes and Gnosis are able to innately grasp the reasoning behind each other's actions without exchanging words regardless of what may appear to be happening on the surface.

-- As Daigo reluctantly lingers in New York and Kaoru finds himself at his wit's end, Kaoru takes matters into his own hands and clears his pending projects to fly to America to meet Daigo since Daigo will not come to him... -> Gnosis is also prone to taking matters into his own hands and making executive decisions when unhappy or displeased with a situation.

-- ...Though not without telling Daigo to go ahead and get married, much to Daigo's shock, as he had been keeping the whole affair secret so as not to worry Kaoru. -> Gnosis also catches Enciodes by surprise when he says Enciodes should let him be the one to bring down the other clans in BI, letting on that he already knows and suspects more than Enciodes does. Enciodes, too, did not mention the plan as he did not want Gnosis to execute it on account of the consequences to himself.

-- Daigo wants to know the real reason Kaoru is there, and Kaoru tells him that he's there to erase him and then himself. Although he says he would never allow it as he takes responsibility for handling the situation poorly, Daigo confesses that he's ecstatic by Kaoru's possessiveness. -> Not to repeat myself, but Enciodes has never been bothered by Gnosis's radical streak nor his oft-violent way of resolving matters.

-- Kaoru encourages Daigo to make his own decision and pursue what he wants even if he has to be selfish about it. -> Gnosis pushes Enciodes to make decisions he thinks are better, though they may not always be as perfect as Enciodes desires, and indeed, one of his chief criticisms of Enciodes is that he always believes he can achieve the "perfect outcome." Furthermore, Enciodes's behavior towards Gnosis is perhaps the most "selfish" he's ever been, as he nigh-demands that Gnosis will stay with him in Kjerag, and repeatedly emphasizes to Gnosis that "this undertaking is ours together," rather than letting Gnosis go to do his own thing.

The volume ends with Daigo refusing the marriage yet again and informing his father that he's returning to Japan, as well as the marriage being called off as the Toudou president is unhappy about Mercury threatening one of their employees and losing the Toudou Group's alliance outweighs the benefits of the marriage. I don't really have much to say about this except it's an interesting situation to picture the Silverashes in.

Now, while I confess perhaps more than a few of the parallels I've pointed out here have been a bit of a stretch and up to personal interpretation and headcanon, the way many of the character traits and several plot developments have matched up with Silverweiss and the way I personally read and interpret the characters of Enciodes and Gnosis them was a rather mysterious and peculiar experience.

In conclusion, perhaps rather than it being a remarkable and funny coincidence that there exists a BL drama CD starring both the voices of Enciodes and Gnosis, perhaps it is that Enciodes and Gnosis star together in a heavily subtextual story and in their own drama CD because of the yaoi...

[z0mbiekisses]

Another request QUEEN!! I loved loved loved the Josh fic it was amazing and has me coming back for more! First of all though, how are you? I realised we haven't talked much before lol. Anyways, my amazing spectacular request!!

RAB Tyler who is best friends/hiding his feelings with the reader. She's someone who works super hard, gets good grades and almost drives herself insane with all the extra curriculars she does yet still doesn't feel good enough. After having a stressful day she stops by his house feeling worthless and he comforts her, refusing to let her believe she's not amazing.

Thanks bestie!

AHHH THANK YOU BFF!!!🤗🤗 thank you so much for requesting more, you’re always welcomed i LOVE your ideas . i did kind of write this in a highschool setting 😣😣.

i’m okayy, very tiredd BUT we’ll push on through (hehe)💪 TYSM FOR ASKING, how are you??😁 it’s always nice to hear from you 🫶

thank you guys so much for ur recent support!! it means smmm, sorry this took so long and it’s short, i have some more things in the drafts that hopefully make up for it 🫶 requests are opened !!🩶

THIS IS ME TRYING !

i always did my best. in school, life, everything. i needed to get into college, i NEEDED to get out of my house. however, college isn’t cheap. and i don’t exactly have the best support system, so it’s up to me. i’m in film club, national honors society and student council. i spend whatever free time studying or at my best friend, tyler’s house. it’s overwhelming, but i didn’t have many options. if i wanted to get into a good school and start living my life the way I want to, this had to be done. but today was rough, i spent all of last night finishing my college essay just to go to school bright and early the next day. i was so exhausted, but what else was new. except i had a test in my first two classes, a presentation for national honors society. and i had to stay late for a student council meeting.

i was used to the stress, however today was just awful. every little thing that could go wrong went wrong. i was late to school because my car broke down, which meant i missed taking the test. i tried to beg my teacher to still let me take it but he only said he'll think about letting me make it up. i NEEDED to take this test, it was a huge part of my grade. it wasn't fair. i gave my presentation for NHS, which went fine. except everyone's presentations were WAY better than mine was. it was obvious the amount of effort and time they spent on it, sure i put effort into mines. i was just missing the time, since i stayed up all night wednesday putting it together. i felt like an idiot. i sat alone at lunch, i only shared my lunch period with one of my friends. but she was busy hanging with her boyfriend. i ended up skipping and just spending the time volunteering at the library. the more hours the better. the day seemed to drag on, especially since i had to stay later. like most if not all the other kids who did student council, we were only doing it for our college applications. i didn't get along well with the other kids. not in the way where we would fight or anything. they were all just so pretentious and snobby. they would always undermind me, as if i could never be an intellectual individual like them. i spent the whole 4 hours i had to stay there wanting to stick my face in a hot pan of oil. when it was all FINALLY over, i sat in my car for a minute. i felt so.. worthless. everything i did didn't feel like enough, maybe it wasn't enough. what's the point of doing all these things if i wasn't even good at any of it? it wasn't long before tears filled my eyes. but i watched as the other kids from student council walked over to their fancy cars. and i realized the last thing i needed was for them to see me crying in car that probably should've been in a junkyard AGES ago. i didn't want to go home, my parents would only make me feel worse. i called tyler and asked if i could come over. he said yes and with that i drove over to his house in silence. my thoughts racing through my head were the only things i could hear. i will never be good enough. for anyone, for anything. what is the point in even trying?

eventually i knocked on tyler's door. to which he answered with a smile. it was a struggle for me to return one back. i didn't say anything at first, tyler was telling me about some story about him and josh. i couldn't focus though, my head was spinning. tyler noticed, he reached out and touched my shoulder lightly. "what's going on y/n?", tyler spoke softly. i tried to shrug it off, but tyler was more stubborn than i was.

"i know you're not okay, what's up?", tyler looked over at me softly. i wanted to tell him not to worry about it. my problems were stupid anyways. but i knew tyler wasn't one to let these kind of things go.

"what is the point of trying if i'll never be good enough.."

"trying to do what?"

"everything.", i let out a sigh.

"all i do is try, try, try. and yet i always fall short every single time i mean- it's exhausting.", as much as i tried to fight it tears fell from my eyes.

"i'm not good enough i-"

"y/n please.", tyler reached out and held my hand.

"you are more than amazing. you are the most hard working, driven person i know."

"you have to say that-"

"i mean it.", my cloudy eyes met tyler's brown ones.

"i think you're more than enough, you have such amazing things ahead of you. and that's all because of your dedication. i'm so proud of you.", i practically fell into tyler's arms. he rubbed my back as he spoke over my muffled sobs.

"you're so perfect to me y/n, i admire you.", those word silenced the negative thoughts pounding in my head. tyler's arms made me feel safe. i finally felt okay. i always knew tyler had a way with words thanks to his music. but this was so much better than that. i finally felt like i was enough.

“look at me y/n.”, i hesitated for a moment before i lifted my head up. this was the closest we’ve ever been, our inches only inches away from each other.

“i think you’re so lovely.”, my cheeks flushed a little bit. tyler’s compliment making my heart skip a beat.

“as long as you think so.”

[thesweetnessofspring]

Ouch with the whole Suzanne already ruin that comment, which I think was abiur sotr? . I remember you made a post about how some will say this book ruin the trilogy for them ? Don’t you think you’re being a bit harsh with it? Sorry you feel that tho

I could write an essay (and already have a draft on one of these points) but I'm tired so here:

Haymitch does not reflect the Haymitch we know from the trilogy, specifically with his cleverness.

Haydove was poorly written and an unconvincing romance

Snow is stupid. Like. Why did he not kill Haymitch for trying to blow up the arena. Why let him get so close to winning. Oh, right, because of a situationship 40 years before he's going to...prolong???...Haymitch's life???

Effie showing up was definitely "Suzanne-service" (look at the B&N interview—she talked about how she loved writing the old characters in the book). What little grace I could give Effie (assuming she was young-ish, somewhat new to the Games, that the sex trafficking was kept secret from escorts) is now gone.

With the above point, Haymitch felt absolutely squeezed between TBOSAS and the original trilogy with little room for his own relationships separate from Snow and Katniss's.

Katniss has lost her everywoman status in favor of a cheap Chosen One trope, opening this world to be one of fate and/or conspiracy, and diminishing the idea that anyone, no matter how unimportant, could stand up against oppression and make a change. Now you need to have a special lineage and/or a destiny to be allowed to make an impact.

The Seam/Merchant divide is not described based off of race. I guess it just exists. No particular reason.

Mrs. Everdeen is now Ass-turd

And I want to be clear: I was rooting for this book. I defended it. I scoffed at it being a cash-grab. So this is not coming from someone who was a skeptic initially. I had a lot of faith, but Suzanne did ruin it. She ruined Haymitch and Katniss in particular with this one. And it's not that she did nothing right or there's nothing redeemable, but in the broader world and story, particuarly with Katniss, she did ruin it.

I've been feeling like my mom has divorced my dad and brought in this new guy to be my stepdad and he's not the worst thing ever, but I don't connect with him, I don't like him, and I just want my dad back. So I'm trying to get along with the new guy because I don't want to lose my mom or fight with her, but it's not getting better with time. And like, my dad is still there, but it's different now and he's different. What I thought I knew, what I understood, was I guess my parents lying to me or covering up what was going on. And so what I've said about their relationship to others is now just...not true. I guess it never was true, but, they lied to me? This whole time they were lying? Or my perception was what I wanted it to be and now they're telling me I was just wrong about the whole thing? And with my parents' relationship being the starting point of so much of my understanding about life just makes me go...well, I don't know how I ended up here, but now I feel like I'm off from where I was intended to go. But I think I like it better here. But there's still a distance between where I am and where I was apparently meant to go, and I don't think that the distance can close now between me and what I was once close to.

[aaknopf]

Jamie Hood’s revelatory memoir Trauma Plot came out last month, but readers of her thrillingly hybrid poetry-as-diary-as-lit-crit debut, How to Be a GoodGirl, published in 2020 and newly available as a Vintage paperback, will already know some of her story. Repeated assaults on her body have forced certain subject matter upon her, but her intellectual exuberance, coupled with her bracing practicality—her embracing or discarding, as needed, the reasons to write about trauma at all—make the reader eager to accompany her. Here’s a short passage from the introduction to Trauma Plot, in which Hood reflects on her attraction to the myth of Philomela, and a poem entry from How to Be a Good Girl.

from Trauma Plot

The material event of Philomela’s rape was not what shattered me. After all, I could have comfortably identified with any number of raped women in the myths of antiquity—Io, Orithyia, Europa, Proserpina, Thetis. Often I’ve dreamed of Daphne as a laurel, and Apollo slipping calloused fingers beneath her bark. In one vision of the story, a self-portrait, the photographer Francesca Woodman stands arms aloft in a dense clearing, her back to the spectator. Her hands and forearms are wrapped in dead tree matter. Her hair is knotted; she’s observable and phantasmic at once. I have been her kind. For years, too, I was Medusa, ugly with the evil thrust on me: stone-eyed, untouchable, a hissing fury. But when I shed those selves, Philomela remained. Philomela and her pulsing little tongue stump; Philomela, stricken but ongoing, raving but righteous; Philomela, whose grief and wrath surface, again and again, above silence. Denied language, she learns the loom, weaving a witness into being, creating a tapestry to transmit her torment in a different design. I became entranced by this ripple in the story, its provocative diagnosis of rape as a formal problem—something that exceeds or can be clipped by language. Something that may mandate a kaleidoscopic technique of narration. I had a need of my own to reckon with the ways rape resists testimony or explodes the containers of its own telling, without in turn surrendering to the convention that trauma is, as it were, altogether unintelligible. With tongue or without, the story will out.

[thurs aug 27]

re-reading sontag’s reborn this week seeking structure in my form                   -lessness                re-reading also                                �� may sarton                                  barthes                                  zambreno thinking always of how the diaristic or autofictional or confessional-i is                                                                  contextualized                   disavowed

there is a vitality & immediacy to sontag’s notebooks which i tend to think elude her larger body of work, which is hawk-eyed, imperious

i feel a kinship w the sontag of the journals—w her self-flagellation; her intellectual anxiety; her terror at being, in any real sense, sexually possessed; or out of control

this kinship perches alongside my awed regard of her essays, as if from a distance; a looking at something quite bright—too much so

i am not a list-keeper although i think i should like to be

i imagine sontag calling my work cheap

i imagine sontag calling me cheap

this touches the erotic

i notice in my center part a half dozen stray gray hairs as if in intimacy; i press them against my lips in prayer

More about these books and author:

Learn more about Trauma Plot and How to Be a Good Girl by Jamie Hood and follow her on X and Instagram @veryhotmommm.

Hear Jamie Hood read at Franklin Park in Brooklyn, NY on May 19 at 8:00 PM. 

Visit our Tumblr to peruse poems, audio recordings, and broadsides in the Knopf poem-a-day series.

To share the poem-a-day experience with friends, pass along this link.

[fishgirl514]

thank fucking god i turned on onedrive as much as it pissed me off because the backup files for my little brother’s 2DS are on there. if it’s behaving the same way it did last time though it should work for very brief periods if i mess with it enough. if that happens i’ll quickly email myself a copy of the files just to be safe. it would also be cool to rescue my resume and my history text for school and as much of my art textbook as i had downloaded at the time.

did i ever mention here my laptop broke LMAO