#and expected an answer and actually listened

[batsandbirdbrains]

I need Bruce trying to gentle parent Dick as a child. Like maybe Bruce isn’t exactly a good parent but tries. When Dick starts throwing massive tantrums, he just puts Dick in an empty room for time out. This does not stop Dick as he ends up destroying the room despite nothing being in it. When Dick does something Bruce doesn’t approve of, Bruce just says softly “Don’t do that.” Dick does it again. Like I need him trying and failing. Nothing he does works. Then Dick decides to turn that gentle parenting back on Bruce. No whenever Bruce makes him mad, he puts Bruce in a time-out room. Whenever Bruce is being dumb, he just gives him a pout and says “Don’t do that.” Bruce actually does his best to listen to Dick because he thinks it might foster trust or encourage Dick to follow along when Bruce does it to him. It doesn’t really work. Dick still doesn’t listen and now Bruce is being parented by the child he’s supposed to be raising. The only plus is that it calms down Dick’s more violent urges because instead of destroying shit he just sends Bruce away.

Then Dick gets shot, and something in Bruce snaps. There is no more gentle parenting, no more kind words or soft punishments. He needs to make Dick listen, and if that means hurting him, then so be it. He loses sight of the fact that Dick is still a kid, an incredibly traumatized one at that. He still lets Dick parent him, although he’s more snappy about it. Dick stops being soft with him, too, instead telling him harshly to get to bed, threatening to sic Alfred on him, or screaming in his face about how he’s the worst. Somehow they’ve fallen into this horrible dynamic and neither of them know how to get out of it. Dick blames himself for being such a troubled kid, and though Bruce never says it, Dick knows he blames him too. So Dick leaves.

Eventually, over the years their family grows, but Bruce’s softness never really comes back. He’s meaner, more controlling, even downright cruel at times. And one day when the entire batfam is arguing with him over how unreasonable he is, one them snaps and says “Jesus, B, who turned you into such a fucking asshole?” and before Bruce can even think about it, he responds “Dick did.” He closes his mouth in shock, face going ashen while everyone else freezes. The words cut straight into Dick’s heart. He replies with the only words he can think of at the moment “Don’t do that.” He meant for the words to be cold, confident. Instead they came out soft, chiding and pained. Before anyone can say anything else, Bruce turns on his heel and leaves. They all try to follow him to argue more but then stare, confused, as he walks into an empty room, locking the door behind him. He doesn’t come out for a long time.

🥺 rip out my fucking heart why don’t you, damn.

But now I’m just thinking of the scenario with Bruce saying Dick turned him into an asshole, and the whole room freezes.

Jason didn’t expect an actual answer. Tim and Damian thought Bruce would have just chided Jason for his language. Dick thought a Bruce was just going to keep yelling.

But then the way he says, “Dick did” without even thinking about it, without hesitation, it shocks everyone.

And Dick feels like he wants to cry, because sure, he knew he was a pretty fucked up kid. He was troubled. Traumatized. A problem child. But Bruce for the most part had been so patient when he was little. And when Bruce started being an asshole after Dick got shot, it wasn’t like Dick couldn’t fight right back. It was almost like a game, sometimes. But Dick has always felt so guilty about it, because Bruce had been so soft spoken and patient and nice, and then Dick went and fucked him up. Dick ruined him. It’s all Dick’s fault.

Dick has always had that thought in the back of his mind. But he’s never had any real proof that Bruce felt the same.

Now he does. And Dick’s chest feels hollow as he stares at a horrified looking Bruce.

All Dick can manage to say is a soft, desperate, “Don’t do that,” just like Bruce always tried to use with him, before he started using yelling as his go-to response.

Then Bruce turns without saying anything and walks right into an empty room, and Dick feels like he’s going to throw up. He turns too, towards his bike, and he ignores the way his siblings are calling after him. He turns off his comms and rides home, going way too fast, feeling the wind whip around him, and tears blurring his vision until he blinks them away.

When he gets back to his Blüdhaven apartment, he slides in through the window and doesn’t even change out of his costume before he’s puking in the bathroom.

He silences his phone, turns in his security system, and then spends the next hour sitting under the water in his shower, spacing out until the water goes ice cold and he has to get out. Then he crawls into bed, pulls out Zitka from under the pillows to hug to his chest, and buries his head under his pillows. If he doesn’t pay attention to it, he can pretend he’s not still crying because of the guilt.

He stays like that for a long time, not moving. He falls asleep for a while, wakes up in a panic, rinse and repeat.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but the next thing he knows, someone is sitting down on his bed next to him, laying a hesitant hand in his back. And he knows it’s Bruce, and it just makes him feel even worse.

“Go away,” he begs, the words muffled under his pillows.

“I didn’t mean it,” Bruce tries to tell him.

“Yes you did,” Dick says miserably. “And it’s true. I know it’s true, you don’t have to pretend it’s not.”

“It wasn’t you who made me an asshole,” Bruce says. “The situation-”

“Caused by me,” Dick argues.

“You were just a child, Dick.” Bruce sighs.

“A horrible, no good, rotten child!”

“Don’t say that about yourself,” Bruce says firmly. “It’s not true, Dick. I don’t care what anyone says, you were not a rotten child. You were just a little boy. I was the adult, and I should have found other solutions that worked for you.”

Dick doesn’t say anything, but he eventually moves out from under the pillows to curl up with his head in Bruce’s lap. Bruce plays with his hair, and the two of them stay quiet for a long time. Neither of them really knows what to say. They’re both still upset. And they’re both awful at dealing with their feelings.

The sadness and anger and guilt they’re feeling from this fight won’t be resolved. They won’t really talk about it. It won’t be talked about without someone else bringing it up, and that won’t happen for a while.

But for now, Bruce is going to comfort his son. And for now, Dick will let him.

[idyllwave]

aeon & bird & arrow 5

yandere!aeon!phainon x fem!reader x yandere!mydei

taglist

@reapersan @lollipipz

Phainon couldn’t stop staring at you. He memorized the way you smiled, noted the way that your eyes would crinkle when he said something funny. And your laugh… he could listen to it for ages. And he loved the way you talked, he could pick out the way your voice falls over each syllable as you told him about your village, it’s people, and about yourself.

“How about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, silly. Who exactly is Phainon besides a knight in shining armor?”

He couldn’t remember the last time someone cared to ask about himself. He didn’t even know anyone who would even bother to ask, but here you were proving him wrong.

Phainon, of course, wasn’t his true name, but he felt like it was a name that he wanted you to call him by. But he did tell you other things. His home birthplace, how he traveled from one city to another, and how he currently has a small home in Castrum Kremnos … while leaving out the part that he was actually the aeon looking over the place and helping them win the war that was going on right now.

Though, you didn’t seem to mind how secretive he was about some parts of his life. That, or you didn’t notice. What he also didn’t expect was all your questions you would ask about the various places he’s been to which he would happily answer to in kind.

Then there was the pie you made. He couldn’t remember the last time someone cooked for him. And it was so good too. Granted, you could have given him anything and he would still think it tasted amazing.

He honestly wanted to talk with you forever, but … he could already sense someone approaching.

“Y- you!”

Laios. What an interesting fellow. Phainon honestly didn’t think he would come back. Maybe he should have killed him after all. And before he could stand to confront the man, you had beat him to it and stood in front of him instead. Your hands resting on your hips as you flared at Laios.

“Move out of my way.”

“No, you’ve bothered both me and Phainon enough.”

Laios sneered, “how am I not surprised? The moment a man shows you even a bit of kindness you’re already opening your-“

He froze, you both did when that familiar feeling clawed at you both.

“Finish that sentence,” Phainon said as he stood up and ushered you into his arms, one of his hands pressing gently against your head to make you lean against him.

“Well?”

You couldn’t move as your cheek pressed against his chest. Your hands uselessly reaching to grab ahold of his coat as your heart stuttered loud with each beat against your rib cage. What was this feeling? It was even worse than in your shop. Was it coming from Phainon? It had to be-

Laios stumbled back and fell to the ground, “what- what even are you?!”

“Leave and pray you never find out.”

Laios looked at Phainon, then at you before struggling to get up and running away. It was probably the fastest you have ever seen him leave. And as soon as he was out of eyesight, that pressure disappeared and it felt like you could breathe again. And, of course, you had even more questions, not that you could ask as Phainon was still holding you close. His arm was locked tight around your waist as his other hand was running through your hair.

“P- Phainon?”

He hummed.

You hesitated. Were you even allowed to ask? Would he answer? Would you even like the answer he would give you?

“It’s probably best you don’t ask.”

“And even better if you let her go.”

Yet another nuisance Phainon mused.

“Aren’t you supposed to be fighting a war?”

“There was a break. A temporary ceasefire.”

“How convenient.”

Phainon let you go so you could turn, your eyes widening as your smile returned, “Mydei!”

[lucidrmss]

extra credit. II 7.3k armin arlert x reader

cw: 18+ explicit content minors dni, nerdmin x baddie reader, reader insert but no use of y/n, unprotected sex, female pronouns/afab reader, vaginal sex, oral sex, nipple piercing, possessive armin, bit of dirty talk, bit of fluff. university/college au.

summary: No one saw it coming. Not your roommate. Not your on-and-off ex situationship. Not even the judgmental girl with a color-coded planner who’s clearly in love with him.

But somehow, the cardigan-wearing, note-taking, blushy boy wonder of your Comparative Politics class caught your attention. And that’s saying something, because you’re not exactly known for quiet crushes or gentle flirting — being a tattooed, sharp-tongued, braless baddie with a GPA just as high as your standards.

After a sketchy dude corners you at a party, Armin Arlert — the last person you expected — swoops in like a flannel-clad knight in awkward armor. That moment sparks a chaotic, and unexpectedly tender journey involving fake study sessions, thigh tattoos, jealous glances, and one painfully adorable nerd who may or may not be packing more than just a well-organized Google Drive.

Let them stare. Let them whisper. You’re not letting this one go.

notes: i'm here with part 2, longer and dirtier! a had to edit it all again that's why it took forever. hope u like it <3

<part I

You were totally going to be chill today.

The library dates have grown to you, you actually like to study, just know how to balance it with nights out. But this is comfortable, sharing opinions and having someone to actually listen to it, not with a surprised face like it's uncommon to wear short skirts and be able to develop intellectual opinions, but sharing deep conversations and with Armin, it's easy.

In fact, you could sit there and talk about how you custom-made a piece of clothing you thrifted last week and he'd look at you with his big, bright eyes as if you were describing how you accidentally discovered the cure for cancer.

So the study dates? is just a excuse to sit close and have him speak in that low voice to you. With your coffee, wearing your least intimidating crop top, you told yourself: Don’t flirt. don’t provoke. just study.

As you scan the library, you notice that everything is quiet, being it a friday afternoon. Or it was quiet, ‘cause you accidentally made eye contact with a damn Jean Kirstein who had the audacity to wink at you in front of Armin.

Look away, ignore it. Maybe he'll get the hit and don't be a menace for once in his lifetime. Is that asking for too much? the footsteps approaching your table 10 seconds later answered yes.

“Damn, babe. If I'd known study sessions with nerds made you this hot, I’d’ve volunteered months ago,” he says, teeth flashing as he leans on your library table like he owns it.

You glance up from your notes and deadpan, “if you knew how to read, Jean, maybe you’d be here for the actual material.”

Jean laughs ��� loud and easy, not offended in the slightest. “Always such a flirt. But hey, if the blondie here ever needs a break, I got room for a real tutor.”

You’re already mid-eye roll when you hear it.

“I think she’s fine with the one she has.”

Oh?

You blink, slowly.

Jean raises his brows, mock-innocent. “Whoa. Okay, Professor Armin. Relax.”

Armin doesn’t even look up. “Maybe don’t hit on people while they’re trying to learn.”

You wait for Armin to blush and backpedal like he always does. He doesn’t.

Instead, he adjusts his glasses, underlines something in your shared textbook, and leans a little closer to you. You feel his shoulder touch yours — light, intentional.

Your stomach flips.

Jean watches the interaction, then snorts. “Well, shit. Didn’t realize this was exclusive.”

Armin looks him dead in the eye.

“It is.”

Excuse you? You nearly knock your iced coffee over.

Jean lifts his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Jesus. Nerd got game. I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.”

When he walks off, you just stare at Armin.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says, not meeting your gaze. “Just tired of guys thinking they can talk to you like that.” he sounds annoyed, eyes still focused on the open textbook but he looks distracted, jaw clenched, a vein popping out of his throat.

A quiet nerdy man who wears glasses and has a possessive agenda? You couldn't make that shit up, no even in your wildest dreams.

You’re quiet for a second. “You jealous, baby?”

Armin finally looks at you. Really look at you.

And for the first time since that almost-kiss, you see it again — the heat behind his eyes. The one that doesn’t match the shy smiles and physics flashcards. The one that makes you ache.

“I don’t like sharing” he murmurs.

Jesus Christ.

That got you shivering, shyly looking away. He just clears his throat and continues to read to you, like that moment didn't happen. Only his thigh touching yours under the table.

The thing about college parties is that they’re basically controlled chaos. Like, sure, someone brought Cards Against Humanity and another guy made jungle juice in a mop bucket — but it’s fine! Everything’s fine!

Especially when Armin shows up wearing that soft gray sweater that hugs his shoulders just right, and you remember why you bothered to come out in the first place.

You’re wearing all black again. Cropped halter. Knee-high platform boots. A leather jacket you definitely don’t need. He spots you across the room, fiddling with the rim of a red Solo cup, and you swear his whole face lights up. Soft-ass nerd, you think — fondly, stupidly, like some lovesick schoolgirl. The contrast between you two is kinda hot tho.

“Hey,” he says when he reaches you, out of breath from squeezing through the crowd. “You look���”

He trails off.

You arch an eyebrow. “I look?”

His mouth opens. Closes.

You step closer and smile with dangerous softness. “Use your words, baby.”

Armin turns redder than the Solo cup.

You live for this.

But before he can recover, Connie swoops in from nowhere and yells, “TRUTH OR DARE. IN MY ROOM. CIRCLE. NOW.”

Because apparently y'all twelve again.

The room's smelling faintly like weed, and cheap vodka, hot with so many people in the same place. You spot Mikasa laying on Coonie’s bed and Eren sitting on the desk chair, back to the rest of the room, but you can see him packing the ground up weed into a rolling paper. You sit next to Armin, obviously. His knee keeps brushing yours like he’s trying to pretend it’s an accident, even though it keeps happening every five seconds.

Across from you is Sasha (already tipsy), Connie (born tipsy), Jean (smirking, obviously), some random people you don't care enough to remember their name and— yep — Mina.

You don’t know if she’s glaring at you or having a stroke. Either way, you smile sweetly and lean a little more into Armin’s space.

“Alright, nerds,” Connie claps, vodka bottle in hand. “Never have I ever… slept with someone and forgot their name after.”

You hold up your cup and drink without blinking.

Armin chokes.

Everyone groans or giggles. Mina looks directly at your mouth like it offended her personally.

“Never have I ever… had a crush on someone in this room,” Sasha smirks.

Cue chaos.

Everyone makes eye contact with everyone. You sip. Jean chugs. Mikasa doesn’t flinch. Armin… lifts his cup. Sips.

You want to tease him — but the bottle spins.

Its Mina’s turn.

“Never have I ever made out with someone just to get a reaction out of someone else.” You sip again. So does Jean. but that's an old story, not even worth mentioning. You see the flicker in Armin’s jaw.

Connie, in a brilliant stroke of timing, takes things further off the rails.

“Never have I ever… had sex in a public place.”

You cackle.

Armin clears his throat.

And drinks.

What.

The room erupts.

“No. Absolutely not. Ain't no way Armin Arlert it's little freak, explain yourself,” Mikasa demands, nearly toppling over.

Armin just pushes his glasses up calmly. “Library study room. Sophomore year. After finals.”

You drop your jaw.

Mina visibly deflates .

“Was it with that girl with the septum and purple braids?” Connie asks.

“Nope,” Armin says.

“Who then?” Jean insists.

Armin shrugs. “You don’t know her.”

You… suddenly want to know everything about this alternate-universe Armin with secret kinks and perfect timing.

It spirals quickly after that.

Sasha drinks for “Never have I ever stolen a traffic cone.”

Connie drinks for “Never have I ever kissed a professor.”

Jean drinks for “Never have I ever hooked up with two people in the same friend group.”

Armin’s barely tipsy, his face is flushed in a beautiful way that compliments so well with his blonde hair it's actually making you kinda of feral. You’re dangerously close to asking if he’s faking this I've never felt the touch of a woman energy or if the universe just wanted to create a sex god with a resting shy face.

You're having fun, laughing at Mikasa and Connie bickering, watching as Eren joins the circle while passing a blunt over to Jean, feeling Armin's hand caressing your thigh, while you rest on his shoulders a little. Yet nothing can distract you from this feeling. Of being watched, getting your every move scrutinized. Everytime you meet her eyes, she raises her eyebrow. It's getting tiring.

Jealousy it's a ugly face, even on pretty girls like Mina Carolina.

Your patience snaps. your turn now.

While staring directly at her, you go for blood.

“Never have I ever lied about wanting to just study when what I really wanted was to jump someone’s bones.”

Connie screams, you hear Armin choking beside you.

You drink, watching her blush while also taking a sip.

The blonde man beside you hesitates for a second before also taking a big gulp. The world seems to stop when your eyes meet. Your lips parted as his ears got more red and his eyes glitter. Fucking glitter like when sunshine touches the ocean. Deep and blue and fucking breathtaking beautiful.

This motherfucker got you wanted to write poetry and draw hearts with your names.

It's time to admit you got it bad.

The moment ends with everyone groaning when Connie suddenly lurches forward.

“Oh— no, no, no—” Mikasa scrambles for a trash can, but it’s too late.

The carpet claims another victim. The game dies an honorable death.

Someone suggests a group selfie to immortalize the trauma. You all huddle together, flushed and sweaty.

Jean’s got devil horns on. Sasha’s holding a baguette she stole from the kitchen. Connie is barely conscious .

You feel Armin slide behind you — then his arm loops around your shoulders.

Soft. Warm. Familiar.

Your breath catches.

He’s smiling at the camera like it’s nothing. But his hand is resting right below your collarbone. His thumb brushing the skin under your necklace.

The photo flashes. Captures it all.

Later, when you check it on Sasha’s phone, you zoom in.

His smile is innocent.

Your smirk? Dangerous.

But it’s his hand that stays with you.

Because it’s not just possessive.

It’s not casual.

It’s a promise.

You don’t remember who suggested karaoke at 3:37 a.m., but they’re currently on their third dramatic rendition of “Toxic,” and Eren is screaming the harmony like his life depends on it.

The party has thinned. The carpet’s been cleaned (kinda). The last cup of decent alcohol is gone.

You’re sitting on the couch nursing a bottle of water like it’s vodka. Armin’s next to you, arms around you — not a lot, but enough to make your heart overreact.

He looks like he shouldn’t fit here.

Too clean. Too sane. Too good.

But he does.

And then he looks at you and smiles, like you’ve just said something funny even though your last sentence was “I think Eren’s possessed.”

You grin.

—

“I still think Sasha won that game,” you say as you stumble slightly, the cold air slapping you sober.

“How?” Armin scoffs, holding his sweater tighter around his chest. “She didn't even drink for ‘never have I ever lied about being a virgin,’ which—statistically? Impossible.”

You laugh, shoving his arm. “She’s a legend. Respect her lore.”

You’re both walking slowly. The street is empty, dead-quiet except for the buzz of street lamps and the sound of your boots scuffing.

“Thanks for walking me,” you say when you two slow down in front of your dorm’s building, hands tucked in your jacket pockets.

“I wasn’t gonna let you walk back alone. You’re, like… not safe.”

You smirk. “You’re calling me unsafe?”

He looks at you with a sideways grin. “Yeah. But in a gremlin energy kind of way.”

“Wow. Armin Arlert. Student of the year. Secret library slut. Thinks I’m a gremlin.”

He laughs softly.

And then he looks at you like he’s thinking way too hard.

“What?” you nudge.

“I like seeing you like this,” he says.

“Like what?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “You know. Loose. Silly. Kinda chaotic. Like… like a girl who doesn’t have a comeback every ten seconds or a death glare locked and loaded.”

You squint at him. “I am silly.”

“You’re terrifying ,” he deadpans. “In, like, a hot way. But terrifying.”

Your lips twitch.

“Okay, but real question,” you say, pausing by your dorm entrance. He stops one step down the stairs. “If I’m so scary in a hot way, how come you haven’t made a move yet?”

Armin blinks. “What?”

You step closer. The wind picks up behind you, lifting your hair over “You like me. I know it. Everyone knows it. Even Connie knows it, and Connie once failed a psych class he wasn’t even enrolled in.”

He licks his lips, looking absolutely flustered.

“So?” you press. “What gives? Why haven’t you just… caved in?”

He swallows. Hard.

“I didn’t want to be just another guy who wants you because everyone else does,” he says, voice low. “You get stared at. Talked about. People make up shit just to feel close to you. And I—” he moves forward “—wanted to be different.”

Your throat goes dry.

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t want to kiss you,” he adds quickly. “I thought about it. A lot. More than I should.”

Your gaze drops to his mouth.

Then climbs back up.

“I want to do this right,” he says, softer. “Real dates. Not fake study sessions. Not hallway flirting or party games. Just… you and me. Trying to see what this could actually be.”

It's this what being with a Real Man looks like? you finally made it?

You don’t say anything, just grab his jacket, tug him up, and kiss him.

It’s short. Hot. Clumsy.

You laugh into his mouth when his glasses bump your forehead. He huffs a breathy laugh, presses one hand to your waist like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to hold you tighter.

He is.

He will.

But tonight?

Tonight you pull away, lips tingling, breath shared.

“Okay, nerd,” you whisper. “You want a real date?”

He nods, dazed. “Yeah.”

You lean in again, lips grazing his jaw. “Then ask me out before I ask you to stay the night.”

Armin blinks.

“... Will you go out with me?”

You grin.

“Depends. Does the date come with more kissing?”

He leans in close, the real him surfacing through the shy boy mask.

“All of it.”

You almost cancel.

You’re not the canceling type — more like the don’t catch feelings and flee when you do type — but still. For a hot second, you stare at your reflection in the mirror and ask yourself if you’re really about to let Armin Arlert take you on a date.

Then you remember how he kissed you, how his hand curled around your waist like he meant it, how he whispered "all of it" with a look that made your knees consider retiring.

And you put on your damn jacket. Your phone pings with a text a second later.

>Armin: I'm here

He’s waiting outside your dorm, standing next to a bright blue car that absolutely does not belong to him.

“Connie’s,” he explains when you raise an eyebrow. “He owed me a favor. I helped him write a breakup email.”

You blink. “That’s… darkly romantic.”

“It had bullet points,” Armin says proudly.

He opens your door. Let you in first. Doesn’t try to play it cool — he’s nervous, you can feel it. The way he drums his fingers on the wheel, the way he sneaks glances at you at every red light.

You don’t speak much on the drive.

But you don’t need to.

Because when you get there — a retro arcade with neon lights, synth music playing inside, and a glowing sign that reads "Joystick Palace" — you laugh so hard you snort.

“An arcade?” you grin as you step out. “Really?”

“You said you like chaos,” he shrugs, locking the car. “And I like a fighting chance to beat you at something.”

“Oh, baby,” you purr. “You’re gonna regret that.”

Inside, it’s loud and flashy.

You pass rows of claw machines, air hockey tables, and ancient DDR setups.

Armin pays for a loaded token card like a gentleman. You immediately waste ten tokens trying to win a vibrating duck keychain.

Armin wins it in one try. You hate him.

Next you two reach the Skee-Ball Showdown table.

“You have terrible form,” he says with a little laugh.

You roll your eyes. “Says the man in a corduroy jacket.”

“It’s fashion.”

“It’s a lie.”

He smirks, steps behind you, and gently adjusts your arms, breathing right beside your ear. “You gotta flick. Like this.”

You try again, and miss miserably. Armin takes a ball, flicks it with clinical precision, and lands a perfect 100.

You stare at him, deadpan. “Are you secretly a Skee-Ball assassin?”

“I had no friends in middle school,” he says simply.

You wheeze.

You finally beat him in a Zombie Apocalypse game. It's basically just gun shooting a bunch of very fast zombies. You know you did actually beat him ‘cause he's doing the face he usually does on the study sessions when he's very concentrated in something. Jaw locked, eyebrows furrowed, a little pout on his pink lips. It's so fucking hot.

When your screen says YOU WIN in all caps and colors and you scream, while flashing him your middle fingers. “ You're a fucking loser Arlert”

He just laughs and try to stop you screaming with a hand on your mouth “People are side eyeing you so hard right now” You could care less about other people when you are having fun with him

You’re both laughing too hard to function when you pile into a tiny photobooth that smells like plastic and popcorn.

“Wait—my hair—!”

“Too late—!”

The flash goes off just as Armin accidentally elbows you in the boob and you scream-laugh into his shoulder.

When the strip prints, you’re both wheezing.

1st pic: You blinking. Him wide-eyed.

2nd pic: You throwing up a peace sign. Him doing jazz hands.

3rd pic: You squished together, cheeks touching, laughing with your whole chest.

4th pic: Him looking at you. You looking back.

And something quiet in the middle of all the chaos.

You don’t say anything, just tuck the photo strip into your jacket with a shy smile and pretend your heart isn’t imploding.

——

The arcade has a crusty pizza lounge in the back. Sticky booths. Cheap soda. Grease stains that deserve forensic analysis. And yet, it’s perfect.

You sit across from him, legs touching under the table.

“So,” you say between bites. “Any reason you picked this place?”

He shrugs. “You’re loud. Competitive. Terrifying.”

“I will throw pepperoni at you.”

He grins. “And I wanted to see what you looked like when you’re having fun without trying to impress anyone.”

You pause, chewing slowly. “That's... dangerous, Armin.”

He blinks. “What do you mean?”

“You say stuff like that and I forget I’m supposed to be the one in control.”

He flushes pink, but doesn’t look away.

“I don’t want control,” he says. “I just want to know the real you. The girl who wins at claw machines. The girl who laughs like she doesn’t care. The girl who stole my hoodie three days ago and never gave it back.”

You grin.

“And what if I’m in love with you?” You weren’t supposed to say it out loud. But the words fall out before you can stop them, soft and simple and devastatingly true:

“I think I’m in love with you, Armin.”

You don’t look away, don’t take it back.

Armin stares for a second, like you just gave him a cheat code to life. Then he reaches across the table, hand covering yours, thumb tracing your knuckles. “I’ve been in love with you since the day you told a TA to suck your ass in lecture.”

You cackle loudly, the kid at the next table looks mildly traumatized.

But it’s fine, because Armin is still blushing and smiling and not even trying to hide it.

And you?

You’ve never felt more real.

——

The arcade’s closing now. The glowing neon signs flicker out one by one, and the last dregs of teenagers shuffle toward their rides, greasy paper cups and leftover tokens in their wake.

You and Armin walk back to the car, the buzz of the evening still crackling in your chest.

The laughter's quieter now. Everything is, like the night itself is holding its breath.

Armin unlocks the car, holds the passenger side door open for you — and maybe it's the way he looks at you in that hoodie, or the fact that his fingers keep brushing your waist, or the fact that he saw all of you tonight and didn't even flinch.

But whatever the reason—

You don’t get in the car. You don’t even think, just grab him by the front of that stupid corduroy jacket and kiss him like your life depends on it.

And he melts.

“Wait—” he says, breath hitching, “what—?”

“I’m done waiting,” you mutter. Then, with exactly zero shame, you shove him back into the driver’s seat and climb into his lap.

Straddle him. Close the door. Like a prize.

Like a goddamn throne.

“W-wow —holy sh—” His hands hesitate — just for a second — before gripping your hips tight, thumbs digging into the curve of your ass like he’s been dying to. His glasses fog. His mouth opens against yours, wet and hot and messy, and your bodies crash together like magnets misbehaving.

“Still think I’m scary?” you whisper, teeth and lips grazing his jaw, kissing down his delicious throat, nails scraping his undercut.

“Yes,” he gasps.

“Still like me?”

“I’m obsessed with you.”

You rock your hips once — just once — and the breathy moan he lets out breaks you.

He’s flushed from collar to ears, fingers tightening like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, you can feel him getting hard and you head is spinning from how deep he's kissing you, like he’s catching up for every second he didn’t.

Tongue deep. Hands firm. Lips bruising.

“You drive me insane,” he mutters into your mouth.

You grin against his lips, breath ragged, hands in his hair, tugging until he groans. just as you’re about to grind again — as the windows fog and your body trembles with too much clothes and not enough skin — A loud, sharp knock on the window.

You freeze. Armin freezes.

A woman’s voice — annoyed and nasally — slices the moment in two:

“There are children in this parking lot.”

You turn your head. A mom. A literal mom, holding a juice box and glaring like you just kicked a puppy.

You blink. Smile and wave politely.

Armin chokes on his soul. “I—I am so sorry—!”

You slide off his lap, giggling uncontrollably while he smacks his forehead against the steering wheel and mutters something about “crawling into the sun and staying there.”

The drive back to your dorm is a blur of laughter and blushing and your hand resting on his thigh like nothing happened.

He walks you to the door like a goddamn gentleman.

Hair’s a mess, lips are swollen. His glasses are still a little crooked. His hands keep twitching like he wants to grab you again.

And you? You’re a little more in love. It’s terrifying, really and somehow, it feels like freedom.

You lean against the doorframe. “Thanks for the date, nerd.”

“Thanks for hijacking it and almost getting us banned from an arcade.”

“Tell me you didn’t love it.”

“I loved it.”

You smile. He steps forward, tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, and kisses your forehead. Slow and soft.

“Sleep well,” he murmurs, even in the poor light, his eyes shine.

“Not a chance,” you whisper. He grins, backing away.

You watch him walk off, hoodie riding up a little, hair practically bouncing, hands shoved in his pockets like he’s hiding a secret.

You wait until he’s gone.

Then you take out the photobooth strip.

And you post it to your story. No caption, just hearts and his @.

And for once, you don’t care who sees.

You can feel the hallway buzz before you even turn the corner. Phones clutched too tight. Whispered “oh my god that’s her”s. A heady mix of staring and pretending not to stare.

Which… okay. You did post that photo strip. You did let Armin hold your waist like a man who paid rent to be there. And yeah, your caption was literally just a heart, but that’s basically a marriage license in social media language.

So, you knew. But he didn’t.

You round the corner and spot him before he spots you. He’s standing by at locker, trying to act normal, wearing that dusty green hoodie you like and a pair of black jeans that absolutely weren’t tight until you noticed they were. His blonde hair, messy and softly curly at the end, are falling over his forehead. His ears are red.

He looks like someone who accidentally became an overnight meme. You sneak up behind him and poke his side.

He jumps. “—Oh my god, warn me!”

“Sorry,” you smirk. “You looked too approachable. I had to ruin it.”

He groans softly, leaning back against the metal locker. “I don’t know how you walk around like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like… everyone’s looking at you.”

“They always look.”

“Yeah, but now they’re looking at me too. I got high-fived by like three dudes I’ve never even met. One of them said that I'm a ‘lucky bastard’, another one asked what shampoo you use. I dropped my bag.”

You try not to laugh, but his expression is so pained, so violated, that it slips out anyway.

“I feel like I accidentally joined a frat,” he mumbles.

Then, quieter:

“And I don’t like the way they talk about you.”

Your know what he means and don't like it too, but after having to deal with it alone, you've learned to ignore it.

He doesn’t look at you — just rubs the back of his neck like he’s trying to massage away the emotions. “Like you’re a trophy they lost to me. Like you’re something they didn’t win.”

Your voice softens. “And that bothers you?”

He finally looks up. “It bothers me that they talk about you like that. And yeah, I guess I’m jealous. But mostly? I just feel like they don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“That you’re not a prize. You’re a person. Who happens to like me for some reason.”

You tilt your head. “I like you for so many reasons.”

“You’re gonna make me faint in the hallway.”

“Promise?” He laughs — real and shy and warm — and that’s all it takes. You link your arm through his and tug him toward the cafeteria.

The moment you step into the lunch area, the chaos hits.

Mikasa waves you over. Connie yells “Power couple alert!” like a town crier. Eren whistles loudly like a proud Dad who's watching his son score a goal playing soccer. Jean does finger guns. Sasha is halfway through a croissant and still manages to shout “FUCK SOFT LAUCHING, THAT'S QUEEN BEHAVIOR RIGHT HERE LADYS AND GENTLEMEN.”

You sit, Armin hesitates. Then squeezes in beside you like he’s bracing for impact. And for the first few minutes, it’s a tornado of teasing and food stealing and Sasha throwing paper napkins at Connie’s head. But eventually, everything softens.

Mikasa slides a tray in front of Armin without asking. “You didn’t eat yet. I know.”

He smiles. “Thanks, Miki.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That your other girlfriend?”

Mikasa deadpans. “Only if he passes the final this time.”

“I—I’m studying!”

You lean into him. “I’ll quiz you later.”

Jean snorts. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

You throw a grape at his face. But Armin’s laughing again, shoulders easing down inch by inch, as the table noise wraps around him like a safety blanket. For all their chaos, this group is home. And when his hand brushes yours under the table, you squeeze it. Soft. Sure. Grounded.

Because yeah, people are talking. People are always going to talk.

But at the end of the day?

It’s just you and him, and that’s more than enough.

——

You’re slipping your headphones in, fingers already fumbling for your lighter and gum at the bottom of your bag, when you hear someone say your name.

You look up.

It’s Mina. Alone this time, no textbooks hugging her chest like a shield, no fake smile plastered on. Just her — big cardigan, soft eyes, and that slightly awkward energy that used to make you roll your eyes. But today, it doesn’t hit the same.

You tug one earbud out. “Hey.”

There’s a pause. A big one. The kind that stretches out like taffy and begs to be cut clean.

“I just…” Mina begins, eyes flicking somewhere past your shoulder. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. If I ever made you feel weird. Or like I was… trying to compete. That wasn’t my intention.”

You shrug. “You didn’t owe me anything.”

“I kinda did,” she says. “You were never cruel. And I might’ve been quietly hoping you’d disappear for, like, a week or two.”

You snort. “Just a week?”

Mina smiles, a little. “Okay. Maybe a month.” You both laugh, short but real.

Then you say, “He likes you, y’know. As a friend. A lot.”

“I know,” she nods. “And you’re… something else entirely. Which I guess is what he needs now.”

You hum. “I didn’t plan any of it.”

“I know that too.”

Another pause. More gentle this time.

“You look happy, though,” she says. “He does too.”

You nod. “I am. And he is.”

“Good,” she says. “That’s good.”

You both glance toward the buildings across the quad, like you’re searching for the next thing to say — but there isn’t one.

Just a nod.

A quiet, simple goodbye.

You turn and walk your separate ways.

Not friends. Not enemies.

Just two girls who grew up a little.

———

Armin’s dorm smells like cotton detergent and anxiety.

You’re barely past the threshold when your eyes land on his desk: two mugs, one with a tea bag tag still hanging off, and a notebook open to the densest study notes you’ve ever seen. There’s highlighter color-coding like he’s about to present a thesis, not cram for a final.

And then there’s Armin — already flustered, running a hand through that fluffy blond hair, wearing a simple gray t-shirt and joggers like the unintentional thirst trap he is.

“So… you made it,” he says, nervous smile blooming.

“I said I would, didn’t I?” you toss back casually, setting your bag down and peeling off your hoodie to reveal your usual black tank top. His gaze drops instantly to the curve of your collarbone. Then lower.

You pretend not to notice.

He clears his throat. “Uh, tea or water?”

“Tea makes me feel like a Victorian child with tuberculosis. Got soda?”

“…Water it is.”

You snicker and flop onto his bed without permission, legs crossed, and fumble for your notes — not that you’re going to use them.

“I ran into Mina on the way here,” you mention offhandedly.

Armin pauses mid-pour. “Oh.”

You nod. “She was cool. Said some nice things, actually.”

His eyes meet yours cautiously. “You’re not… mad at her or anything, right?”

“No,” you say truthfully. “She’s sweet. Just had a crush and a little passive-aggressive attitude. It happens.”

He nods slowly, sets the water down on his desk. “You’re handling this really maturely.”

“Trying to impress someone,” you shrug, giving him a sly smile. That earns you a blush. Bright and adorable.

You both try to study for maybe twenty whole minutes. He sits at the desk; you sit cross-legged on the bed, actually reading the damn thing, until you catch him looking at your thigh tattoo for the fourth time.

It’s a Medusa, coiled and dark, peeking out from the hem of your shorts like it’s daring him to say something.

You stretch slowly, just to watch his eyes darken.

“Problem, professor?” you ask, voice low and teasing.

“I—no. I just… I didn’t realize it was that detailed.”

You smirk. “You could see it up close, y’know. If you asked nicely.”

He looks like he might short-circuit on the spot.

So you rise, slow and deliberate, walking over to his desk, taking the pencil out of his hand and placing it down. Then — as if it’s the most natural thing in the world — you straddle his lap, knees on either side, hands on his shoulders.

“I can’t focus,” you whisper.

He looks up at you, eyes wide. “Me either.”

And then you kiss him.

Hard and messy.

There’s nothing slow about it — not this time. This isn’t the photobooth or the moment outside your dorm. This is heat and need and weeks of pent-up tension burning through both of you.

His hands settle on your hips, pulling you closer, and you can feel him already half-hard under you. You grind down, and his head falls back with a low, helpless noise that shoots straight through you.

Your lips leave him only to trail down his jaw, to the base of his neck, biting gently just to hear him gasp. He says your name like it’s a prayer. A warning. A plea. then he touches the strap of your tank top.

“Can I—?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Take it off.”

He does, slow like he’s unwrapping something sacred. His hands tremble a little, but his eyes never leave yours. Then they drop — to your pierced chest — and he exhales like he’s been sucker-punched.

“Holy shit.”

You grin. “You like it?”

He answers by taking one nipple into his mouth, gently at first, then with more confidence as your fingers tangle in his hair. His tongue flicks over the piercing leaving a gentle bite, and you whimper.

Teasing until you can’t take it anymore — his shirt needs to go. You tug it off him and toss it somewhere behind, letting your nails drag down his pale chest. You just knew he would be the sleep builder type, abs muscles marked by soft lines, his peck with cute pink nipples, skin shivering.

“You’re so hot,” he mumbles against your skin, and your heart stutters.

You grind again, harder, and this time his hands grip your ass, guiding you. The friction is blinding. You’re soaked through your panties, and judging by how hard he is now, he’s not far behind.

“Fuck,” you whisper, breathless. “I want to taste you.” He stares, stunned, as you slide down to your knees in front of the desk chair, eyes locked on his.

“You don’t have to—”

You shut him up by dragging your tongue along his length through the fabric of his joggers, and he just chokes.

By the time you free him from his boxers, he’s flushed, panting, already leaking at the tip. You lick a slow circle around it before sinking down, taking him inch by inch, never breaking eye contact.

“God—” His hands are in your hair, not pushing, just holding. His hips twitch as you hollow your cheeks, letting your tongue swirl. He looks like he’s trying not to scream, red from chest to cheeks, eyes a little dazed, shaking a little by the time you pull off, still hard and dripping, and you crawl back up, tugging your shorts and panties off.

“You good?” he asks, breathless.

You grin, guiding his hand between your legs, letting him feel how wet you are, and then bring to your mouth and suck his fingers clean.

His jaw drops. “You’re going to kill me.”

“No, baby,” you whisper. “I’m going to ride you.”

You sink down onto him slowly, both of you moaning, your thighs trembling from the stretch and the sheer fucking emotion of it all. He fills you perfectly. Like you were made for him.

You move slowly at first, circling your hips, watching him fall apart beneath you.

“—fuck, you feel— -uhgg” Your nails dig into his shoulders as you pick up the pace. His hands are on your waist, your thighs, your ass — anywhere he can touch, he eyes your tits as they bounce slightly like he's hypnotized, groaning like he can't handle it and goes back to sucking on it again.

You ride him until you're shaking, grinding your hips and biting your lips. The knot inside you snaps, pleasure crashing over you in waves.

But Armin’s not done.

He carries you to bed, laying you like you're made of glass, take off his glasses, and kisses you like he’s starved. You're a moaning mess, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgams. He kisses down your throat, the vale between your tits, your stomach and when his head is between your legs he looks up at you, big blue eyes you know and love, but with a little wild in it, “Pussy so fucking pretty, bet she can cream for me again.” He gives you a long lick, then a cute little kiss.

“Minnn” you whimper, hands holding the sheets tightly.

“Taste so good, smells amazing, looks so fucking pretty,” his words make you dizzy, its hard to process that sweet Armin who still blushes when you hold his hand, is the same man that its climbing up to rest his forehead against yours and saying with a smirk: “You're a perfect little thing, ain't you? And that's all for me? Huh?”

You nod whimpering his name as he slides back in, thrusting slow and deep, holding your face, eyes locked, sucking your lips lazily. Until you bite his lips back, gripping him inside you. That's when something in his eyes darkens.

Suddenly, he's so close you wouldn't know where one of you starts and the other ends. Bodys sweating, chest to chest, one arm around your lower back as the other hold you head, finger griping your hair, legs locking on his waist as he fucks you fast and hard, sometimes mumbling incoherently, sometimes dirty shit you could never imagine spitting out of his mouth.

He tells you how long he’s wanted this.

How many times he’s thought about bending you over a desk, study sessions be dammed.

How good you look taking all of him.

He's fucking whimpering in your ear.

Vision whitening, your eyes roll to the back of your head, toes curling, nails gripping his back, mouth open on a silent scream. Even the noise the bed frame is making while hitting the wall gets turned down. All you could hear it's him . Feel him, just making you take it. No space to run.

“You’re mine,” he whimpered, eyes glazed tugging on your earlobes with teeth, it's all too much “Fuck baby, I'm gonna cum”

His hand, the one on your lower back, snakes between your legs and he begins to circle your clit, making your body lock, pussy gripping so hard he makes a cute painful face, slamming one last time and letting out a pretty broken moan, your body shaking as he fill you up. Nice and warm.

The moment seems to linger, his arms around you, two hearts beating fast, breaths hard, your sanity coming back.

You just had the best fuck of your life with the Armin Arlert, the campus adorable nerd, and open your eyes to see his dorm room, crumpled with books, cute figures and wall with Star Wars posters.

“If I knew your dick game was this good, I would've fucked you sooner” Armin giggles. Fucking giggles into your ear like he didn't just railed you so good it ruined you to everybody else.

“And the dirty talk? ” you say and he whines embarrassed.

Armin’s face emerges from your neck, flushy with wet hair clinging onto his forehead.

“You okay?” he whispers.

“Mhm,” You shift, and he gently slips out of you, grabbing a towel from the desk drawer — probably prepped days ago with overly optimistic hope. It’s soft, and he cleans you carefully, like you’re something precious.

He tosses it into the laundry after, climbs back into bed after putting on a boxer with a shy smile, gives you a clean t-shirt then when you're done, pulls you into his arms without hesitation.

You melt into him.

“Stay,” he says softly, voice muffled in your messy hair. “Don’t leave yet.”

You nestle closer. “I wasn’t planning on it.” And just like that, you sleep.

——

You wake up tangled in warmth.

There’s light creeping through the blinds, golden and soft. Armin’s arms are still around you, one hand tucked under your (his) shirt — possessive and sweet. He’s snoring, faintly. His hair is a mess.

You stare at the ceiling for a moment, heart full.

And then, like a wave crashing over you:

Holy shit, you love him.

You love the dumb way he looks at you, all big eyes and sweet smiles. You love his nervous hands. His annotated study guides. The way he tastes when he kisses you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

You love Armin .

He stirs as you shift slightly, blinking himself awake.

“…Hi,” he says, voice still gravelly.

“Hi.”

“You okay?” he whispers into your hair, fingers brushing over your thigh tattoo again — featherlight and curious, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

“Mhm,” you murmur. “More than.”

He shifts just enough to look at you, his blue eyes sleepy and searching. “Not sore?”

You snort. “Armin, you fucked me like you’ve got something to prove.”

“I do,” he says, so seriously that you laugh.

“You win, baby. Gold star. Five out of five. Would let you destroy me again.”

His cheeks go crimson. “That’s not— I mean, I didn’t want to go too hard—”

“Shhh,” you tease, pressing a kiss to his throat. “You were perfect. Actually…”

You roll to your back and stretch, wincing dramatically. “I think you might’ve ruined me for literally anyone else.”

That makes his entire body go still.

Then—

“Good,” he mumbles, pulling the blanket over both of you. “'cus you’re mine.” He doesn't say it like a joke or a challenge. Just quiet certainty, like he’s stating a fact.

You blink up at him, heart skipping. “Yours?”

Armin’s eyes flick down to yours. He nods. “Unless… that was just a one-time thing for you?”

You frown instantly. “What? No. Of course not. I—Armin, you know it’s not like that.”

He nods again. “Okay. I just— I’m not used to this. Having someone. Like this. You’re…” He exhales. “You mean a lot to me.”

Your chest tightens. You lean in and kiss him slow, one hand cupping his face.

When you pull away, you say, “You’re my person, Armin.”

He smiles, not that flustered little curve you used to get — this one is full. Confident. A little smug. “So I guess that makes me your boyfriend?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Guess?”

“Okay,” he amends. “That makes me your boyfriend.”

You tilt your head. “Say it again.”

He leans in, kisses your nose. “Boyfriend.”

You grin. “Girlfriend.”

“Mine.”

“You are. Mine.”

You let the moment linger — sweet and weightless — then raise a brow. “So... what are the girlfriend benefits, exactly? Am I getting snacks? Back rubs? Photo booth printouts in your wallet?”

“You already got extra credit,” he smirks, dragging a hand down your bare back. “What more do you want?”

You fake gasp, hitting his arm.

Armin chuckles, burying his face into your neck. “You’re such a brat.”

“And you love it.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, gaze tender. “I really do.” he says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like he’s known it longer than he’s known anything.

You kiss him, slow and sure.

No rush this time, just your heart in his hands, and his smile against your lips.

[yoshifan456]

A friend of mine just mentioned that Bledsoe works so well, because after an hour of people in authority doubting Ethan, it's refreshing that he's so on board for everything.

I like to expand on that a bit. Because Ethan in the briefing room with the president and co. is, like some people have already said, deliberately looking very vulnerable and weak.

He is making himself look vulnerable while we know he isn't. But everyone around him sneers at him, look like they want to spat on him, and disregard his ideas and desperate pleas. Except the president, but she pretends she does anyway.

But the in the submarine Ethan is actually vulnerable. He is practically naked, forced under a hot shower because he jumped in the ocean without diving suit and surrounded by people literally looking down on him.

You would expect this scene to be even more humiliating for Ethan than the painful briefing scene. But no. Everyone is feasting on him with their eyes, instead of wanting to spit on him (I mean also wanting to spit on him but in a different context). The person in authority does the authority bit, but without exasperation. Bledsoe is the only one truly impressed by Ethan and he doesn't even have his file to read. Bledsoe listens to Ethan, asks a genuine question about the plan (instead of just debunking the plan because of said complication) and listens to his answer. As does Kodiak btw, since we see her look at her watch when Ethan mentions 12:00.

So the queer submarine mirrors the briefing scene in a way that completely subverses it, which is terribly refreshing.

[seokmn]

EYES OFF OF YOU — CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

SYNOPSIS :: Seokmin was desperate to find the perfect model to pair up with his friend for his upcoming project, and he found you.

📝. word count: 3.6k words ‼️. warnings: slightly suggestive and mentions of sex and drugs (nothing explicit)

“Woah,” Seokmin scoffed as he looked around the place. “I left a crowded ass party to go to another crowded ass party.”

 “Dude, we’re talking about a Doyoung’s party, what did you expect?”

 “I don’t know, I thought it would be less crowded.”

 “Impossible,” Seungcheol shouted due to the blasting music and handed drinks to Seokmin and Mingyu. “Doyoung is known for his parties. I still don’t know how you and Jihoon didn’t know about him and his crazy ass parties.”

 “I usually don’t go to parties like this.”

 Seokmin’s lips found their way to the cup as he took a sip of the drink, cola with vodka.

 “Why not? Parties are cool.”

 As Seokmin was about to answer his friend, a random guy bumped into him. He glanced at the guy, who didn’t even apologize to him, and took a deep breath.

 “Because of things like this.”

 “Someone bumped into you, it’s the end of the world!” Seungcheol and Mingyu laughed. “Boo hoo, Seokmin. Boo. Hoo.”

 His friends kept talking, thinking that Seokmin was listening, but he had his attention on something else. Actually, on someone else.

 His eyes traveled through the expanded living room full of people, but it didn’t take too long for him to spot you with Seoyoung, Sujin, Joshua and Jeonghan. You were drinking and laughing along with your friends.

 The sight made Seokmin’s heartbeat race, but it also made his chest hurt with the thought of you enjoying the night and your life without caring about him.

 He could never wish you any type of bad thoughts or feelings, but deep down he wanted you to not be that happy without him by your side. He wanted you to feel as sad and as he was feeling those last days without you in his life.

 “Look, I have something to do. I’ll find you later.”

 Seokmin gave his cup to Mingyu and started to walk through the crowd, muttering excuse mes that not even him was capable of hearing them.

 “Looks like our lover boy already found his lost girl,” Seungcheol said to Mingyu. “Do you think they’re gonna make up?”

 “I don’t know. I don’t even know the reason why they’re so distant,” Mingyu sighed. “Y/N is a very nice girl, I can’t imagine her doing all this without a reason. But I also don’t think that Seokmin would do something so bad to the point of her feeling the need to ignore him, the guy is totally in love with her. She clearly has him on a leash.”

 Once Seokmin was right behind her, Joshua glanced at him, his laughter dying immediately, and tapped Jeonghan’s arm with his elbow. Jeonghan, who was laughing as well, looked at Joshua and then at Seokmin, and his laughter died just like Joshua’s and was replaced by an annoyed look.

 “What? You two were laughing at my joke just now! It wasn’t a bad joke if you were laughing that hard!”

 Sujin noticed Seokmin standing behind you as well. Her eyes flickered between your distracted figure, at Seokmin and at his hand that was almost touching your shoulder.

 You, unaware of Seokmin’s presence and of the reason why your friends stopped laughing, frowned. Was your joke so bad to the point of making the situation so tense that Jeonghan had to pull that annoyed look on his face?

 Sujin cleared her throat and secretly pointed at Seokmin. And when you looked at Sujin’s pointed direction, you knew that the tension was not because of your joke. However, you wish it was.

 Looking at Seokmin made the whole world slow down and the music become nothing but a background sound that seemed to be coming from miles away.

 You clearly weren’t ready to face him. You didn’t even imagine you’d see him around that party, but you should’ve known better. The thought of drinking for free was so captivating that you had forgotten completely about the fact that it was a famous party to the university’s students.

 “Hey,” Seokmin said and gave you an awkward smile while bringing his hand back to his side. “Listen, can we talk?”

 You just looked at him and fought the urge to hit him or to cry, you weren’t sure which one you wanted to do the most. You wanted to shout at him, to make him disappear from your face and your life, to tell him that he already hurt you enough and that you didn’t want to hear about his lies or empty apologies.

 “Look, dude,” Jeonghan stepped up and stood up beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and squeezing it in a comforting way. “I think you should enjoy your night somewhere else around the house. I don’t think any of us want to see your face right now.”

 Seokmin’s brows furrowed when he heard Jeonghan’s words and saw how he looked more than ready to discuss with him in case he insisted on trying to talk to you.

 He didn’t feel intimidated, though. He felt annoyed and even more confused. What did he do to you that it was so bad to the point that you couldn’t even speak for yourself and made your best friend act like he hit you or something like that?

 Seokmin glanced at Jeonghan and looked back at you, deciding to not let your best friend get between you two. He wanted to know what the hell was going on and he wouldn’t stop until he got the answers to what he wanted to know.

 “I just wanna talk, that’s all. Can we talk? Please?”

 “Didn’t you hear me? Do I need to speak louder so you can finally understand my words?” Jeonghan’s voice was indeed growing louder, catching attention from some people that were around you.

 Seokmin scoffed in response.

 “I heard you very clearly, but this is between me and Y/N, not between me and you. So I’ll leave if Y/N tells me to, but since she didn’t say anything, I won’t leave.”

 “You really have the nerves to get here and try to bullshit her after everything you did?” Jeonghan spat the words out and you looked at him a bit worried. He is not the kind of getting that kind of mad easily, and he was already getting pissed.

 “Jeonghan, let’s not…” You were interrupted by Seokmin’s scoff and irritated words. His facial expression wasn't the same gentle and sweet as usual, it was sharp and intimidating. It was your very first time seeing him like that.

 “Then tell me what the fuck you mean by everything I did, because all I’m trying to do is to talk to Y/N and find out what made her upset, apologize for it and talk through it!”

 When you heard his words, you became the most pissed person in the room. Find out what made you upset? Was he really still trying to play the good guy while being a total player underneath all that talk?

 “How ‘bout you playing with me and Kazuha, then? How ‘bout making me fall in love with you, only to find out that you are a total asshole who likes to play with girls’ feelings?”

 Seokmin’s expression slowly changed from angry and intimidating to hurt, confused and sad. He finally knew what was wrong, but wasn’t believing in what he was hearing. Did Kazuha say something to you? Was it Eunchae? Did you see Kazuha kissing him and got the wrong impression? Did someone else see them kissing and told you?

 Joshua, Sujin and Seoyoung looked at each other in shock. They were stunned to say the least. Seoyoung’s hand covered her wide opened mouth, Joshua clenched his fists and Sujin muttered curse words towards Seokmin.

 Meanwhile, Seokmin just stared at you, and you stared back at him. You were already frustrated, and when he kept silent, just looking at you, you found yourself getting even more frustrated.

 “Say something!”

 “I-I… I…” Seokmin stuttered and you laughed in disbelief.

 “Hey, guys! We were looking for you this entire time!” Yuki and Chan suddenly got closer to you, Seokmin and your friends. The couple seemed oblivious about the whole situation as Yuki took a look at your and Seokmin’s outfits. “Oh, you two are matching! That’s cute!”

 “I can explain, it’s not what you’re thinking. I swear.” Seokmin said without paying no attention to Yuki’s words and her, Chan’s or anyone’s presence but yours.

 “Explain what? How you were only talking to her and suddenly you were almost swallowing the girl by ‘accident’?! Fuck you!”

 You stormed off and Seokmin was ready to follow you, but Jeonghan pressed his hand on his chest, preventing him from following you.

 “Not so fast, you really think I’ll let you follow her? She doesn’t wanna talk to you, end of story.”

 “Let me go, I need to talk to her.”

 “No, you don’t,” Joshua spoke up. “If she left it’s because she doesn’t wanna see your face and you’re gonna respect that, do you understand? Or do I have to make you understand that?”

 “What the fuck is going on here?” Yuki’s voice was loud and full of confusion and annoyance.

 “Your little friend is a fucking asshole who likes to play with your friends’ feelings. Looks like he wanted Kazuha and Y/N at the same time and fucking went for it.”

 Seokmin clenched his fists, and that didn’t go unnoticed by Joshua, making your friend laugh.

 “What? Are you gonna punch me? I can take you down, dude, so don’t even try. Once I get my hands on you, I’ll only let go of you when  you black out or when the cops stop me.”

 “I’d like to see you try.”

 “Okay!” Yuki shouted before Joshua could get any closer to Seokmin. She took Jeonghan’s hand out of Seokmin’s chest and looked at Seokmin. “What happened?”

 “Y/N thinks I kissed Kazuha, but I didn’t. I swear on my life that that wasn’t what really happened. I didn’t kiss Kazuha and I’m not playing with them. I’m not playing with Y/N, I could never do that.”

 Yuki looked at Seokmin’s eyes intensely and she could see the distress, hurt and desperation in them. However, she didn’t need that to know that he was telling nothing but the truth.

 “I know,” she nodded. “It happened after the photoshoot, didn’t it?”

 Seokmin nodded and she looked at Joshua and Jeonghan. Joshua kept staring at Seokmin while Jeonghan’s eyes flickered between him and Yuki.

 “Yeah,” Jeonghan admitted. “She said she saw them kissing at the park.”

 “Seokmin’s telling the truth. He didn’t kiss Kazuha, it was the opposite.”

 “What?” Jeonghan asked.

 Joshua took a step back while Chan, Seoyoung and Sujin quietly observed the scene unwrapping in front of them.

 “Kazuha kissed him and confessed her love for him, but he rejected her. She talked to me about it.”

 “Why didn’t you say something before?!” Sujin asked, a little bit offended that her friend didn’t talk to her and her friends about that earlier. “Didn’t you know something happened between Y/N and Seokmin?”

 “I didn’t know! I mean, I noticed that they weren’t posting pictures together anymore, but I thought that they decided to stop posting about each other for a while so their posts wouldn’t reach Kazuha and hurt her feelings or something like that. Plus, I asked Y/N about Seokmin when I recorded her dance cover, but she told me they were fine, so I trusted her. How would I know? I’m finding out now that Y/N saw Kazuha kissing him and got the wrong impression!”

 “This is a mess…”

 “Seokmin,” Joshua placed his hand on his shoulder. His expression had softened and he had an apologetic look in his eyes. “Go find Y/N and talk to her.”

 Seokmin didn’t wait a second longer, he immediately walked through the crowd to find you and finally get over with that nightmare. He looked everywhere for you, asked random people if they saw you by describing what you were wearing and how you look, but no one said what he wanted to hear – that they knew where you were and your exact location.

 He went upstairs and started to open every door that wasn’t unlocked. But he was met only by couples having sex or doing other compromising things, he would only apologize for interrupting and would quickly shut the door once again.

 After trying three times already, he only had two more doors to open. Seokmin wrapped his hand around the doorknob and took a deep breath, mentally praying for the door to be unlocked and for finding you behind that door and not another couple having sex, people doing drugs or even worse.

 When he opened the door and saw your back facing him as you sat on the edge of the bed and looked down, he thanked God and let out a sigh in relief.

 “Y/N…”

 “Leave. Now.” Your voice sounded like you were crying and that killed Seokmin inside. It hurt him to know that you were crying because of him.

 “No,” he closed the door behind him and slowly made his way towards you. “I really have to talk to you, Y/N. You have to listen to me, please.”

 When you stayed in silence, he took that as a yes to listen to him. He stood in front of you, but you didn’t look up at him, so Seokmin got on his knees and you panicked at his sudden action.

 “What the hell are you doing?! Get up!”

 “You can either see this as me begging for your forgiveness or as me just trying to look at your face. Or maybe both, it’s whatever you decide,” he took a deep breath and tried to look into your eyes, but you looked away before he could make eye contact with you. “Look, I know that you're upset, and I’m really sorry for that. But what you think that happened isn’t what actually happened.”

 “Are you really trying to gaslight me right now…?” Your voice came out almost as a whisper. “I’m tired of this, Seokmin. It’s not like I heard someone talking about that, I saw that scene with my own fucking eyes.”

 “Y/N, I’m not trying to gaslight you. I would never do that to you. So, can you please listen to my explanation?”

 You took a deep breath and finally looked at him. Your eyes were red and puffy and your lips were slightly trembling. That sight broke Seokmin’s heart, and you could see that by the way he was clearly fighting back the tears that were filling his eyes.

 “I’m listening.”

 “Kazuha kissed me and confessed her feelings for me. I froze when she kissed me and maybe that’s why you thought that I was reciprocating the kiss, but I wasn’t,” He reached out for your hand, but you pulled it away. Seokmin sighed and wiped the tear that was rolling down his cheek with the back of his hand. “I rejected her. I told her that not only do I like someone else, but I’m in love with that person. And that person is you, Y/N.”

 “And how can I trust you? I’ve been through that before, and when I finally thought that I had met a nice guy, you do this to me,” your lips started to tremble even more and you couldn’t stop yourself from crying once again. “I thought you were different.”

 “I am different, Y/N. And if you don’t trust my words, then go ask Kazuha, Yuki or even Wonwoo about this. They will say the exact same thing I’m telling you right now,” he sighed and hesitantly cupped your cheek, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “I’m so in love with you and my heart is so full of you that I can’t even say that it is actually mine. I would never do such a thing to you and I’m hating myself for making you cry… I’m deeply sorry for making you think that I was playing you, for even making you doubt my feelings for you.”

 You believed in his words, even though deep down you still had that tiny doubt. You were in love with him and it was very difficult to see him on his knees crying and trying to make you see the truth behind what you saw the other night, so you made a mental note to try to talk to Kazuha about the kissing situation in the future and let yourself melt in his touch and release all the bottled up feelings, your whole body trembling as you let out a sob and cried as hard as a kid who had their candy stolen from them. 

 Seokmin couldn’t bear seeing you breaking down like that. His tears started to flow down faster than before, and soon enough the two of you had turned into a sobbing mess.

 He hugged you tightly, pressing your chest against his and letting your tears soak his jacket and tank top, not even caring if you would dirty them with your makeup.

 “I’m sorry… I really am sorry,” Seokmin mumbled. “I love you, Y/N. Please, forgive me.”

 The only thing you could do was nod at his words and keep on crying until you calm yourself down. And that was exactly what you did.

 “It’s okay…” you whispered as you broke the hug and leaned back to look at him. Your brows furrowed when you saw the black spots on his jacket. He took a look on his shoulder and chuckled while his last tears rolled down his cheeks. “Sorry about that… I should’ve used waterproof mascara.”

 You tried to remove the black spots with your hand, but Seokmin stopped you from doing that by taking your hand in his. He flashed you a small smile – the smile you were dying to see again.

 “Don’t worry about it, okay?” He squeezed your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of your hand before pressing it against his chest. “It’s just a jacket. Your feelings are what truly matters right now.”

 “I’m sorry for being a bitch to you in front of my friends… That wasn’t nice at all.”

 “Hey, you didn’t act like a bitch, you were upset. I can’t blame you, if I were you, I’d have acted the same way you did or even worse.”

 You just flashed him a small and quick smile.

 “So, does that mean I’m still your fling?”

 “My fling?” You chuckled and he chuckled as well while trying to wipe away the black stains on your cheeks gently. “I suppose so…”

 “You suppose so? Not quite the answer I wanted to hear, but I can work with it.”

 You felt your chest warming up and your heart melting. Seokmin was finally in your life again, and this time it was for good.

 “I’m so sorry for the way I treated you these last few days, for the way I talked to you when we were downstairs, and for my friends. They were just trying to protect me from getting hurt, especially Jeonghan.”

 “There’s no need to apologize. I just wished you could’ve talked to me about it instead of leaving me on radio silence, but it’s over now, right? And about your friends, I’m glad you have such loving friends that would do anything to protect you. Although Joshua was one of my biggest problems back there, not Jeonghan.”

 “Josha?” You laughed out loud and shook your head. “Joshua is a very calm guy, he means no harm.”

 “Oh, but we almost got into a fight and he said that once he got his hands on me, he would only let go of me when I blacked out or when the cops stopped him.”

 Your laughter died and you frowned. “What? He said that?”

 “Yes, he did. But it’s fine, nothing happened. He just wanted to protect you, and he looked at me with an apologetic expression when he and your friends found out the truth.”

 “I… I could never imagine that Joshua would say such a thing.”

 “Your friends seemed surprised as well, so I guess he was really pissed with the thought of you getting hurt. But can we stop talking about this and get back on talking about us?”

 “Can we just get out of here? I’m really not in the mood to be at this party anymore.”

 “I wanted to ask you the same thing,” he smiled. “Want to go to my dorm? We can talk in peace there, and then later we can watch a movie and cuddle. What do you think?”

 Seokmin's hand went to the back of your neck and his fingers brushed against your warm skin.

 “Just watch a movie and cuddle?” You raised your eyebrow. His words were gentle and meant nothing more than what he said, but his touch indicated otherwise.

 “I mean,” he smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s not like I’d say no if you told me you wanted more than to watch a movie and cuddle. You see, I’m not gonna be that type of guy who suggests something more right after having you spending days thinking that I was a jerk who was playing you… I’m gonna be that guy who is more than ready to do something more if you suggest it.”

 “Okay then, let’s go to your dorm and see what happens. I just need to find my friends and tell them that I’m leaving with you.”

 “You’re in control, boss,” he pecked your lips and couldn’t hold back his smile and excitement, which led him to peck your lips once again before managing to keep his cool. “Let’s go.”

little note: visual representation of how seokmin looked like when he was on his knees Now imagine he's holding back his tears/crying. ur welcome.

MASTERLiST - PREViOUS - NEXT

🔔. tagging! :: @svtmaryeom, @wonkierideul, @noircheols, @mi9yuz, @u7140823, @paradiseoflosers, @tastyluvr, @starshuas, @kaekiiet, @supi-wupi, @starsunoo, @mimimiloomeelomi, @himewonu, @iamdkayyyyy, @lukeys-giggle, @imhereonlytoreadxoxo, @sumzysworld, @tkooooop, @chemiru, @kpopenthusiast143

[smahell]

A while ago I found an interesting Reddit thread about the VA’s/ Solmares decision about hiring the obey VA’s

https://www.reddit.com/r/obeyme/s/K8OuEEfdXq

Even though I knew they weren’t popular VA’s or had many/ any works I didn’t think they came from a radio host agency and I’ve been thinking about it for a while ever since

It’s not exactly directly related to the VA’s but what’s your take/ speculation on why Solmare decided to hire VA’s from radio agencies over seiyuu agencies?

I’ve read a bunch of replies on the thread but I think it’d be interesting to have more takes on it

You can answer this only if you’d like to, though! But I’m pretty interested in it and um this is the first blog I think of when I think about asking a question about obey me VA’s (; ´ v `)

thank you so much anon! i'd love to answer your question!

I've seen this thread like, a million times when doing my own personal research about the voice actors, but I don't think I've ever questioned why they got hired in the first place. Finding out that they weren't even professional voice actors in the first place was, well, pretty surprising.. As such lively and entertaining characters they are, I didn't really expect most of them to be invested so much in radio..

However, if you look deeper into some of the voice actors, you can find that some of them (some notable ones include Kada, Sumi and Onishi) have been involved in stage productions and acting! Take a video of Kada Satoshi acting on stage!

(untranslated, of course, but acting doesn't need the boundary of language anyways; look at him go!)

And check this! A video of Sumi and his own acting troupe!

I completely disagree with the statements saying that they were "cheaper to pay" because wouldn't it be just common sense that you should get paid the same as your peers because you're doing the same vocal work? (Besides, I'm not sure how wages should work in Japan but I do think that for the time, skill and patience they deliver behind the microphone that they deserve to get paid as much as even the most prolific voice actors.. they're doing the same work utilizing the same skill...). Most¹ of them have previous experience in stage plays, where many voice actors actually started before moving into individually voice acting.

Genuinely, I think the reason why they got hired is pictured clearly within one of the comments within the thread: people from radio have great voices and big personalities. Watch an episode of Otaku FM, or even Boys in the House, and watch how people from a radio agency can still engage you as much as a regular variety TV show. Listen to how smooth and intertwined segments are, watch how conversation flows so naturally and freely from their microphones and out of your speakers. These are talented people, for god's sake, and I think if you look at them as "cheaper alternatives to the real thing" you are not only discrediting the work that they've done for Obey Me! for past five years, but you view them and their jobs as so replaceable when in fact, if other people voiced these lovable characters, they may have a completely different feel to them. Listen to the TTWF event (fully voice acted, BY THE WAY) and ignore the fact that they may have come from a radio company and watch your favs come to life; it's one of the best for a reason.

Solmare's decision to hire local talents will always ring personally with me as it allowed them to further their careers and build their own personal fanbases.

¹ Yes, Miura Ayme is an outlier, but as is first professional vocal performance Ayme has done an amazing job.

thank you for wanting to hear this ramble, lol... and regarding the end of your ask and being the "first blog I think of when I think about asking a question about obey me vas", i am soooo flattered ^^, i never really thought of myself as the "voice actor guy" but this sort of made my day

^^^^^ like reallyyy made my day :D mini tangent but thank you everyone for your support, i thought i was sorta yelling into the voice with my rambles but jesus christ this blog and the people that surround it make me happy.

[saryasy]

he only ever asked questions (and Aziraphale tried to answer them)

[lunar-wandering]

do y'all think Macaque is falling back into the role that Azure and the others put on him by remaining on the outskirts of the group because he thinks his input/presence is unwanted (and yeah his presence isn't really wanted by MK and the others BUT. something about the fact Macaque is placing himself at the edge of the group, the edge that Azure and the others pushed him to, doesn't really sit well)

[encantresse]

♡ :relievedclown:

Send ♡ to see what my muse thinks of yours

○○○○○ | ATTRACTION ○○○○○ | AFFECTION ●○○○○ | INTEREST (i am emotionally invested in the well-being of your bird. if we were separated i'd be taking him in the divorce kind of energy here) ○○○○○ | LOYALTY ○○○○○ | TRUST

"just what you'd expect from a nobleman: close-minded, with an over-inflated sense of self-importance, bound by the lie that nobility is something special. i don't care for him or those like him."

[indigo6f00ff]

had fun in my first therapy appointment today

[candy-swol-man]

My most controversial Sonic opinion is that Sonic Riders is my favorite Sonic game

[deadpoets]

10 and 40 for spotify wrapped <3

10. waltz #2 by elliott smith "i'm never gonna know you now/but i'm gonna love you anyhow"

40. STFU! by rina sawayama "how come you don't expect me/to get mad when i'm angry?"

[blackvahana]

i am really never going to understand why people post "shifting antis dni" in the astral projection tag. "here practice that constantly gets appropriated by us and used as a weird justification for a new set of beliefs that aren't really based in the same reality you work with, and that also gets completely misunderstood by our community because we don't care to understand what you do and just pretend we know it's what we do like christians saying other religions worship the christian god, have a post! Also dni if you don't like our practice that has nothing to do with the one whose tag we just shoved this into"

if you're not astral projecting don't put shit in the ap tag. if you don't even know the difference between AP and RS I dont think your opinion holds enough weight to counter the pushback against flooding a separate practice's tag with "if you dont like the practice I'm talking about in your tags dni"

[pokimoko]

5, 10, 20, and 25 for fic in review ask thing!!!

5. What ships captured your heart?

I am a gen writer through and through, so it's a very rare thing to see me writing a ship-focused fic. That said, I really enjoyed the pairing of Karlach and Astarion this year, though I wouldn't say I shipped them necessarily in a romantic sense. The fic I wrote that had them together had their relationship tagged '(it's fairly ambigious; is it romantic? queerplatonic? platonic? yes), (the love and devotion is there regardless)' which I think basically sums up how I view them (and also how aromantic I am about shipping 😅).

I also liked Billford, but in a strictly 'oh yeah they're super divorced, they are never getting back together' kind of way. Not sure if that counts as shipping, but hey, it's definitely counts as something.

10. What fic was the most satisfying to write?

I would have to say either 'The Poetics of Space' (Gravity Falls) or 'On Waxen Wings We Soar, In Spite of Inevitable Ends' (Baldur's Gate 3). They were the two fics I was the most happiest with this year, not only regarding the quality of the writing itself and the themes they explored (the constance of change not only in the world but also ourselves, and finding joy in and making peace with the time you have left), but also how they tied everything together in their conclusions. Both of them equally made me feel a 'wow..I did that' feeling of accomplishment when I finished them, so yeah, they both were absolutely the most satisfying to write.

20. Share your funniest line.

Being more of angst-based writer kinda limits my collection of comedic lines (even my more comedic story this year was extremely angsty), but there was one line I wrote this year that got a couple comments about it making the reader laugh, so I'll go with that one (because if two people found it funny, surely it must be, right):

“You try fixing an interdimensional portal for thirty years without learning physics," (Stanley) said. "I know what quarks are now. Do you know how much I hate knowing what quarks are.”

25. How did you recharge between fics?

Usually I'd spend the first few days after finishing a fic trying to figure out the what the heck to do with the spare time I had previously allocated to writing said fic, and then once I figured that out (and had yet to be overcome with the urge to write something else), I'd probably watch a TV show, read a book, play video games, and do some art. I'm boring like that.

Send me a number!

[inthecarpets]

Still remember the time i bought the GW2's Path of Fire expansion for the mounts and i was soo Peeved that the game forced me to play through the story to get the mounts (A game? Forcing a player to play through it to get what they want?? Wild. Absurd. Ridiculous. How- How dare they?!).

It was actually the first time i got to playing the GW2's story and at first i was just 'when do i get the mounts when do i get the mounts'. (Don't mind me. When it comes to open world games i just Never really done the story. MMOs? Skyrim? Oblivion? these were for jumping on fantasy buildings, exploring and tiniest sidequests. Plot whom? Laziness win. And from other MMOs i was used to the tagline of 'pay and you immediately get a mount')

But it turned out to be nice. And i actually remember the exact time i got hooked on the story. We just fought Balthazar and Rytlock ran to the side. The commander goes to him and asks what's up. And then it turns out Rytlock Brimstone is an idiot who freed some guy, who was actually an evil god, From Some Forsaken Shadow dimension. And only so said guy could lit up his firey swordie again. I facepalmed, i wheezed. "That guy would sell his soul for his firey sword". And i immediately at that moment knew, I loved that nasty rude grumpy cat with edgy armor and firey sword, and i could play through entire story just for him.

[flowercrowngods]

there is a lot to be said about chapter 10, and the loudest thing to be said is that it’s weird. haunting. leaving a lot of questions unanswered and raising even more. leaning into the unreliable narrator, who barely narrates at all. it’s experimental, it’s off. it’s the result of a narrative developing on its own, it’s the result of trauma and baggage on a teenager’s mind. i have a lot of thoughts about it. i don’t know how to voice them.