#because it's literally the opposite irl. you have NO idea

[bonefall]

where’s that little horror piece about kits never growing up in Starclan? because I remember it so vividly but I can’t find it.

The one about Bright Stream?

Weird that it's so hard to find! It's probably because it's got such heavy tags lmao.

I really mean it though like, canon's permakitten system and the idea that Bright Stream is up there, forever taking care of fetus children who were filled by sudden knowledge and yet never grow past that point absolutely horrifies me. Jesus Christ. I don't know how anyone reads that final scene in Path of Stars and isn't filled with itching, white-hot existential dread, man.

Sometimes you just gotta write horror about it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[iboozi]

Songs of Us | Everybody Here Wants You | jjk

↺ pairing: jeongguk / reader (somewhat strangers to lovers)

↺ summary: Everybody wants you, but you only want him

↺ warnings: smut (in a bathroom sorry), unprotected sex (stay safe), oral (f. receiving),

↺ w/c: 8.5k

A/N: Hello... uh... welcome to the second instalment of the Songs of Us series!!! This took 3 weeks to write because I had to keep changing so much, but here it is! My poor wrists are cramped up writing this. And I finally figured out how to do the em dash on mac 😼 so it's over for everyone (jk). I do have other song ideas but I'm always welcome to more! Pls! Enjoy! And I listened to Everybody here wants you by Jeff Buckley on REPEAT whilst editing so this song is stuck in my head. Also I wanted to make this enemies to lovers but something about a lover boy just gets me everytime. I'm drawn to needy guys (not really irl) ! I'll try it again next time 😔

p.s thankyouthankyou to @tranquilreign for encouraging me to keep going!💗 you got this as well!!!

-Zoobi out 🪩

masterlist

Everybody here wants you

Jeon Jeongguk was seething. 

Well — not exactly seething. More like… mildly agitated. The moment just before water reaches boiling point. The kind of emotional turmoil that wouldn’t result in a few holes punched into drywall but did warrant a deep sigh and a stare out the window that would have others questioning his behaviour. 

It wasn’t common for him to feel such freakishly intense emotions – on a Friday night, no less – but alas, he was a growing boy (pushing 30) who was yet to have a hold on his emotions. 

In all honesty, he was a well-regulated person. He was said to be a man of structure (Jimin’s words, not his) and often showed high levels of self-restraint. He did his morning exercise, ate balanced meals nine times out of ten, and even spared time to read self-help books every evening. But tonight? All of that had been thrown right out  the window and stuffed down the garbage chute. 

Why?

Because of a girl.

And no, he wasn’t rejected by her. Quite the opposite actually. She was too nice. Painfully, bewilderingly, disarmingly nice.  

You see, upon meeting this girl, Jeongguk had been confoundingly starstruck. No, really — his mouth had literally fallen open.

He had tried to say something – anything – but all he could let out was a sound that was vaguely similar to the sputtering of a dying car engine. You, of course, had smiled. Not with pity and certainly no mockery either. You gave a smile that radiated warmth and signalled that Jeongguk hadn’t actually embarrassed himself. 

But a nudge and a snicker from Jimin beside him snapped him back to the reality that they were being watched by a few friends, and that he, in fact, did lose some composure in that moment. He couldn’t do anything but flush a soft pink and scratch the back of his head as he muttered a quiet, 

“Uh-hey… nice to meet you,” as if the universe were witnessing his struggle and had decided to put him in a far more awkward situation. 

The universe, in that case, seemed to be Jimin who found Jeongguk tripping over his words much more comical than his mouth falling open. His laughter echoed throughout the bar, much louder than necessary, drawing the attention of a few nearby onlookers who most definitely didn’t need to see Jeongguk socially run himself into the ground. He could’ve sworn he heard someone whisper, “Is that Jeongguk? Didn’t he sing karaoke here the other day? With like a hundred people?”

Jimin — the absolute traitor — was no help whatsoever. He was too busy trying not to keel over onto the ground, an apparent sign that he loved to see Jeongguk suffer. If anything was better than getting under Jeongguk’s skin, it was seeing him fumble and trip over his words in front of a girl. At least Jimin was a true friend. 

But that wasn’t all. 

The worst part was that Jimin was holding onto your arm as he tried to keep his balance. His arm was curled gently around your forearm, and you, being the kind-hearted person you were, your free hand was gripping onto his bicep to keep him steady. 

And even though Jimin was holding onto you for support, there was a level of intimacy behind his hold. 

Jeongguk wasn’t sure whether he wanted to strangle his best friend or sprint out the door without looking back. 

He couldn’t help it - his gaze kept drifting back to you. Your focus wasn’t on Jeongguk anymore – no it was now on Jimin. Jimin, whom you were looking at like he was some kind of circus act. 

Your hand was still wrapped loosely around his arm, fingers brushing Jimin’s hidden tattoos, but Jeongguk swore that he could feel the heat from your touch like it was something tangible. It certainly didn’t help that you were laughing along with Jimin, making Jeongguk feel like an outsider in his own group of friends. 

Even Namjoon at the back was stifling his laughter – a man notoriously known for fumbling things. The goddamn audacity of Jimin, ruining Jeongguk’s chance at normality, whilst simultaneously sweeping in and bonding with you like old pals – which, Jeongguk supposed, you were. 

“Jimin,” Jeongguk had muttered beneath his breath, voice laced with frustration, “you’re making it worse.”

But of course, Jimin didn’t hear. He didn’t really acknowledge Jeongguk’s visible awkwardness, as he knew Jeongguk would eventually warm up with a few drinks — or at least thought Jeongguk was grown enough to do so.

As a matter of fact, Jeongguk hadn’t warmed up with a few drinks. 

Instead, his beer sat untouched in front of him, condensation dripping slowly down the side, as if it were taunting him. 

You were still talking to Jimin. Still laughing. And still pulling the attention of everyone in the room without meaning to. Jeongguk had caught at least four guys taking a double take as you waltzed past everyone to the restroom. 

And Jeongguk? He was just there. Stuck in his own head. Watching the way you floated through the room with such grace that it felt illegal to look at you for too long. 

And yeah, maybe it was a bit — no, it was very — stupid of him as he just sat in the corner of the booth, fidgeting with the bracelets on his wrist,a  storm brewing behind his eyes. 

But as if the universe were playing some big cruel joke on him, a song he knew too well started playing from the speakers behind him. 

“Twenty-nine pearls in your kiss 

A singing smile,

Coffee smell and lilac skin

Your flame in me…”                       

Jeongguk was frozen. He knew that song. Of course he did. His scratched-up vinyl was somewhere under his bed, tucked away with the rest of his albums he liked to pull out on nights when his emotions got the best of him. If anyone were to find his collection, Jeongguk would just laugh and offer to put one on. But this specific song was a bit more worn, corners a bit more frayed, because Jeongguk had simply used the vinyl so much that it was begging to be put back and given rest. 

Now, like a memory brandished in front of him, it was playing in public, in real time. The words reverberated in his skull as you threw your head back to laugh at something Jimin said. The delicate curve of your neck matched the lift of your smile, pulling at something deep in Jeongguk’s chest. It hit Jeongguk – this wasn’t a crush. It couldn’t be classified as infatuation. 

Because this was a full-body ache. 

Years of hearing about you and your travels across the world, what jobs you had bounced between, the languages you spoke like they were your mother tongue. The little anecdotes Jimin would filter into every conversation added up over the years – like the time you roamed the streets of Prague lost in the city lights with nothing but a dying phone battery in one hand and heels in the other. Or when you somehow managed to charm a cranky police officer in Tokyo, speaking perfect Japanese without hesitation. All these stories, all these mentions of you over the years had turned you into a slowly building myth in Jeongguk’s mind. You were a legend in his group. 

A soft, golden legend. Who was now sitting in front of him, laughing. Just existing in the same vicinity as him. So real and so devastatingly beautiful. 

Jeongguk didn’t even know what to focus on, his gaze hyper- fixated on your figure. Your dress, delicate straps sloping down your shoulders. Your necklace, sitting perfectly in the hollow of your neck. Every detail was so meticulously curated, from your hair down to your nails, that all Jeongguk could do was stare. He smiled when you smiled. Laughed when you made jokes. Offered to refill your drink, which you kindly accepted. Even Namjoon had noticed Jeongguk’s attention solely directed to you, but a few nudges from him wouldn’t even deter Jeongguk from continuing to shine the spotlight on you. 

“I’ll be waiting right here to show you

How our love will blow it all away…”

The lyrics hit too close to home. God had a sick sense of humour.

Frankly speaking, Jeongguk hadn’t expected to be put in this situation. Hadn’t expected to be looked at the way you did – not when Jimin showed your pictures and certainly not when he mentioned you were tagging along for the night. 

You were Jimin’s friend. Jimin’s closest friend. The kind who whispered secrets under the covers. The kind who knew what each other was thinking before anything was verbalised. The kind that walked into the room and became the air that everyone breathed. And the kind that never lingered for too long, always hooking the attention of people, leading them in a trail of passports and postcards and “Goodbye don’t miss me!” notes.  

And even though Jeongguk knew this when you looked at him – before the embarrassment, and before Jimin began his normal routine of making jokes at Jeongguk – it wasn’t dismissive. There was curiosity in your gaze. A sort of gentleness that Jeongguk hadn’t had the opportunity to really see. Ever. 

And call it cliché, but he felt seen. Not in the normal performative way that others viewed him in — the golden boy title — but something more subdued. Like the world had halted and you had suddenly found yourself at the same frequency he was vibrating on. 

That was the part that hurt.

He couldn’t even decide if there was more jealousy to be channelled towards Jimin – for grasping and attaining your attention so easily – or himself, for knowing how you could look at him. 

And God, the way the song resounded through the bar. 

“I know everybody here wants you,

I know everybody here thinks he needs you…”

Everyone did want you. Jeongguk could sense it in the way people's eyes lingered on you from across the room like you were some kind of celestial being. The way their eyes lit up as you voiced conversations. He was insane for thinking that he even had a sliver of a chance with you – he was too structured, too soft-spoken, and had a deep fear of too much. 

So he sat there, quietly tracing the rim of his glass, unnoticed by the rest, while the music filled the void of what he wanted to say and what he inevitably never would. 

And as your winding, overly animated exchange with Jimin came to an end, your eyes scanned the booth before landing on Jeongguk. You tentatively offered him a small smile, and Jeongguk’s heart flipped in his chest – a sharp, stabbing pain that he would gladly experience a hundred more times, just for you to give that tender smile of yours to him. 

“Everything okay?” you asked calmly, cheeks flushed from the combination of the hot air and alcohol. 

The question wasn’t for others to hear. Wasn’t dramatic and wasn’t loud.  

And Jeongguk - poor, deteriorating Jeongguk - nodded frantically. 

“Yeah. Just, uh… you know… thinking.”

You tilted your head to the side, bangs untucking from behind your ears and falling ever so carefully down your forehead. 

“Dangerous pastime, I’ve heard. Don’t hurt yourself.”

He gave a breathy laugh. 

“Are—“

Jimin stood up abruptly, thighs knocking into the table, causing Jeongguk’s drink to slosh over its rim. 

“Jeonggukie. We gotta go, dude. She’s blowing up my phone again.”

Jimin was already halfway to the door, coat in hand, and evidently in his own world. Jeongguk didn’t move, fingers still absentmindedly circling the glass’ rim. Only when Jimin interrupted with a loud “Jeongguk!” did he jolt out of his daydream — nightdream? It was well past the hours he would be awake, and Jeongguk was feeling the effects of it. 

“I swear to God, Jimin,” he muttered, running a hand down his face, his words drowned out by Jimin’s boisterous antics. The said person was already making his way back over to the booth to pull Jeongguk up, barely giving him a moment to recover. 

Jimin looked at you, a sheepish grin plastered on his face, and laughed out,

“Sorry, Jeongguk’s just a little—” He gestured his hand vaguely to Jeongguk and the pure awkwardness radiating off  him. “Well, I’m sure you can figure it out.”

Jimin winked at him, who could only glare in return and yank his arm out of Jimin’s hold. 

Jeongguk wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the way the entire bar seemed to blur around you, but as he reached down for his jacket, the weight of his emotions was heavier than ever. His body was stiff, the physical manifestation of every feeling he couldn’t quite place. But you?

 You were just there — your warmth, your presence, the way your gaze lingered on him with that unspoken curiosity, and Jeongguk found himself paralysed.

The moment you were so close to sharing was gone, dissipated in the door Jimin had left open. 

And the perpetrator was already at the door again, texting away like he had zero notion for the turmoil his best friend was experiencing. It was a good thing that Jeongguk had learned over many torturous years  how to silently communicate his frustration to Jimin, because right now it was at an all-time high. 

Jeongguk wanted to say something to you – anything - but, like always, his words failed him when he needed them the most. 

So when he looked back at you to catch one last glance, he found you staring at him – not Namjoon, who was engaging in conversation with you – the smile from earlier lingering on your face. Jeongguk grinned back but couldn’t quite place what your smile meant. Pity? Or… something else? And that goddamn ridiculous song followed him out the door, mocking him for the predicament he was in. 

He had barely taken two steps toward his bike, which Jimin was resting against when he heard the unmistakable whisper of your voice. It travelled through the air and struck a chord, freezing him, breath caught in his throat and the tension that was slowly leaving came back in full force. 

He turned around, eyes scanning the street barely lit by the overhead lamps. His gaze found yours — heart skipping a beat as he saw you standing there, a few feet away, shuffling in the cold. 

You were staring at him — so calmly, so composed — but there was something in the way you looked at him that hadn’t been there before. Maybe it was your drawn-out gaze that lasted just a few seconds too long, or the soft tilt of your head. It was different… but a good different.

“Jeongguk,” you said again, softer this time, like you were testing the air between you. “You left your phone behind.”

His first instinct was to pat the pockets of his jeans, then his jacket. Then he looked up at you, eyes wide with surprise. He smiled that awkward smile of his, like he’d  just been caught cheating in an exam and walked over to you. Your gaze, full of amusement, was locked onto Jeongguk’s figure as he made his way over to you, and he swore he felt you look him up and down — but he didn’t want to feed into the delusion. 

He muttered a small thanks as you handed his phone back to him, but his eyes never left yours. The streetlights shining overhead seemed to illuminate you — a visage kissed by light, highlighting the gentle features of your face:  your delicately sloping nose, the little freckles on your cheeks and the way your hair cascaded over your shoulder like a scarf, woven from midnight and dreams. In Jeongguk’s eyes, you were oneiric, someone spoken of only in myths and tales. 

You took a few steps closer, feet directly opposite Jeongguk’s,  a smile playing on your lips — mischief mingled with something else. Something caring. 

“You looked like you were overwhelmed in there,” you teased, voice but tinged with a softness that made Jeongguk’s chest tighten. 

He let out something between a laugh and a cough, surprised to be caught. Usually he was able to place an impressive façade, but maybe it just wasn’t as good as he thought it was. He fiddled with his jacket, pulling the sleeves over his hands, pretending his skin wasn’t warm to the touch — feverishly red. 

“Yeah…I-I’m fine,” he said, but the words felt foreign on his tongue. He was anything but fine. 

You watched him with a steady gaze and hummed softly, as if trying to figure him out. 

“Are you sure?” you asked, stepping closer. “I don’t want to assume, but it… it didn’t seem like that.”

Jeongguk’s heart thudded against his ribcage — from panic, but something he was yet to identify. How could you have such an impact on him after only just meeting?

"I…" He paused, swallowing the build-up of spit in his throat "I don’t know. I’ve just—" He let out a small, frustrated sigh and ran his hand through his hair. "I guess I was just nervous.”

You blinked, eyes softening in understanding.

“Nervous about what?”

Jeongguk gestured vaguely toward the bar.

"Being around people. Making conversations. I get all... tangled up in my head and forget how to just relax." He laughed, but it wasn’t a funny laugh — more self-deprecating, if he was being honest. "I probably just needed another drink.”

You tilted your head slightly, eyes boring holes into Jeongguk. 

Y’know,” you started, voice closer to a whisper, “Jimin didn’t tell me that about you.”

Jeongguk balked, eyes widening in sudden surprise.

“He talked about me?”

You laughed, ripples of joy escaping your lips, getting lost in the night breeze, and looked up at Jeongguk with a big smile on your face.

“Of course he has.”

He wasn’t sure what to say to that. He figured he should’ve expected it. If Jimin talked endlessly about you to everyone, then surely he’d talk about Jeongguk as well, right?

All the awful stories that had accumulated over the years on drunken nights, the occasional nights fuelled by pure adrenaline, and the nights he would rather not bring up rushed back into Jeongguk’s head. He fought the urge to groan. Goddamnit, Jimin.

You shrugged, the playful glint in your eye never fading. “I know a lot more about you than you think, Jeonggukie. Jimin just doesn’t keep his mouth shut.”

You paused, taking in his bewildered expression.

“And I know you know about me too.”

That was the last straw—the final piece of décor on the cake. Jeongguk hung his head in embarrassment. All that, and he still managed to fuck up his first impression.

You didn’t say anything for a moment, just letting the silence wrap around you both—and the awkwardness around Jeongguk. There was something serene in the air between you, a quiet understanding that perhaps you weren’t really strangers.

And then you moved—just barely, but enough to close the space between you two, causing your shoes to brush the tips of his.

Jeongguk froze.

Gone was the laughter in your eyes. But it wasn’t replaced with mockery. It was curiosity. Raw curiosity, almost like you were inviting him to say something he’d been festering on all night.

Then your voice, soft and harmonious:

“Maybe next time… try saying hi before your nervous system gives up.”

A laugh bubbled up from his chest, the first genuine one of the day—lifting some of the weight he had been unconsciously carrying.

You smiled at him like you meant it and ever so carefully inched your hand out to brush a strand of hair from his forehead.

Jeongguk stood still, phone still clutched in his hand, grip tighter than ever, and nodded slowly. Your hand slowly made its way down and rested on his jaw a few seconds too long—long enough for Jeongguk to get nervous, red tainting the tips of his ears. Thank God it was dark.

“Okay,” he breathed out shakily. “Next time.”

You took a step back, hands clasped behind your back, eyes still on his. “I’ll keep you to that, Jeongguk.”

Then you turned, hair catching the light like strands of spun gold, and made your way back to the bar—leaving behind the soft smell of jasmine and a boy who could finally breathe.

Art exhibitions were one of Jeongguk’s favourite places to be. At first, he only came because Namjoon would plead him to come — to which he would, begrudgingly — but overtime he had come to find peace in the simplicity of the experience and was constantly finding new ones to go to (with Jimin as well).

The gallery was picturesque, with soft, warm lighting — strangely reminding Jeongguk of the night with you outside the bar – with the shadows across the walls where canvases breathed tales in splashes of watercolour and acrylic. The air had the subtle after-scent of paint and polished wood, mingled with faint undertones of perfumes and freshly opened bottles of wines.

Jeongguk was lingering near a large painting – an explosive composition of blues and reds, very much paying a homage to the inner disarray he had been experiencing over the last few weeks. 

First, hearing from Jimin that you were on a flight to god knows where less than twelve hours after your initial meeting quickly dampened his giddy mood. He was hoping to see you again — even just for a quick coffee— but was now stuck resorting to stalking to your Instagram. 

He couldn’t even do that properly, considering your account was strictly private and Jeongguk felt that he wasn’t at that level of status with you. He couldn’t even stalk from Jimin’s phone because he knew that his best friend wouldn’t keep his gob shut and would relay the information back to you in less than two minutes. So he was stuck with his memories. Which was quite poor, considering how tired he was on that darned night, but your face and the lingering smell of you was enough —for now.

What made this indescribable feeling of yearning worse was the fact that Jimin didn’t even know when you’d be back. Seriously. What was he even useful for? Despite all the claims of knowing you the best, he never once thought to figure out your spontaneity — or at least tried to make rough estimations based on patterns. If Jeongguk ever tried to slip your name in a conversation (very discreetly—at least he thought so), Jimin would just laugh to himself and mutter some incoherent words before going back to typing furiously on his phone. Literally. That’s all he would do. 

It was frustrating to Jeongguk to no end, but he learnt to keep his mouth shut and instead wallow in the idea of what could be (which really wasn’t looking like much)

So, he figured he would distract himself with what he knew best. And no, it wasn’t the gym—even though it came a close second—but it was the tranquillity of these small art galleries, the ones that were tucked away in the quietest streets, waiting for travellers to settle inside and welcome a new world 

He always liked being the one to pursue things, not the one being sought for.

Thus, he stood in a quiet corner of the room, hands tucked into his pockets, body stiff and mind racing with thoughts. He told himself that this was a casual event, but he couldn’t help but put on his best dress shoes—and yes, he might’ve gelled his hair a bit and put on his best black shirt, but it made him feel good. He needed this boost of confidence considering how pathetic he had felt lately and dressing up to have somewhat done the trick. 

But it still didn’t stop the unease running through him. It was unsettling – he wasn’t one to feel nervous in a place he found comfort, but there was something about the air that made tonight’s exhibition a bit more… lonely. 

Perhaps it was the fact that Namjoon and Jimin had ditched him for their dates—he didn’t even know that it was allowed in friend group meetups, but… it wasn’t like he had one anyway. 

And like someone had just replaced the tonearm on a continuous vinyl, the very song that Jeongguk had been trying to avoid filtered through the speakers once more and wandered over to his ears.  

…it had to be a joke. Right? No way this song was following him around like it had a warrant on him. Seriously. He had no idea what he had done to deserve this torture, and frankly, he didn’t have the mental strength to think about it. 

Jeongguk didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t take his hand out of his pockets. Just stared at the painting like he was trying to be absorbed by it, disappear amongst the weird, colourful swirls and blend in to hide from whatever divine intervention was going on around him, just preying on him in his most pitiful moments. 

“I know everybody here wants you…”

He tightened his jaw, muscles fluttering in annoyance. 

It was decided. The universe had a sick, personal vendetta against him. How the hell did this song play everytime his thoughts drifted to you? Sure he might’ve thought of you more often than he’d like to admit, but he was trying to distract himself, goddamnit!

He huffed. Not even the multitude of colours in front of him could tug his attention from you. 

It wasn’t really about the song. Not really. It was more so to do with what it meant to him. 

The night outside the bar. 

The way you caressed his hair even though he wanted it to lay like that. 

The way you whispered his name like it was a secret between the two of you

The way you saw him.

And then— the way you left as quickly as you came.

He barely got to say his goodbye. You were there one minute, and suddenly he had blinked, and you were gone. All that was left was the feeling of your fingertips grazing his skin and the filtered story that Jimin showed you with a geotag somewhere oceans away. 

Jeongguk exhaled slowly, trying to collect his thoughts. He wasn’t in love or anything he was past the stage of teenage limerence. 

…Right?

A soft clack of heels pulled him from the drifting seas of his mind.

He didn’t react at first. Footsteps were common in galleries, voices humming like bees in fields of sunflowers. But there was something different about the rhythm. It made the hairs on his neck stand straight up. There was delicacy behind the footfalls nearing him.

He turned.

And nearly forgot how to fucking breathe.

You.

Long black dress, tan coat slung over your shoulder, and your hair just effortlessly pooling down your back like ink in water. 

“And our eyes are locked in downcast love…”

Your eyes met his, the twinkle in them almost blinding him before he could pretend to look away and be interested in anything else.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The song, of course, droned on in the background like a cruel soundtrack to his unbecoming.

You tilted your head, lips lifting into a knowing smile, like you were fully aware of the effect you had on Jeongguk, even by just standing there. Just by simultaneously coexisting in front of him.

“Jeongguk.”

He swore you said his name like it was yours.

“You’re here,” was all he managed. His words were barely spoken, drifting like mist and condensing on the painting next to him. Honestly, it felt a bit pathetic—what he said—but you smiled wider, nonetheless.

“Jimin slipped it into conversation,” you replied, stepping closer. He could see the glitter you lined your eyes with. “Told me you’ve been moping around in galleries like a sad little poet.”

He groaned, running a hand down his face. “No, he didn’t.”

“Oh, he did,” you laughed a little. “Even told me that you wore your ‘special’ shoes tonight.”

Jeongguk looked down, half expecting his brogues to start sinking into the ground out of sheer humiliation.

You stopped beside him, nudging him softly. “I like them.”

His laugh was disbelieving—the kind that crinkled the skin around his eyes and displayed the little freckle under his lip.

“Didn’t think you were gonna be back anytime soon,” he said quietly, hoping in the way he phrased it.

You shrugged. “Only for a little while. Maybe longer.”

He wasn’t sure what to say. He’d spent months thinking about all the things he might’ve said if you were ever in his presence again, but now that you really were—so achingly near, close enough to smell that jasmine scent again—his brain had fried itself and was devoid of any thoughts.

But you, as always, were the lighthouse in a storm.

“Hi,” you simply said. This wasn’t a greeting. It was a reset.

Jeongguk swallowed nervously.

“Hi.”

Joy bloomed in the creases by your eyes.

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

He smiled at you sheepishly.

You turned your attention to the painting he’d been staring at before—the chaotic mix of colours that had once mirrored his internal disarray. He glanced at it and noticed how the mess seemed to fade towards the edge into two distinct lines of tranquillity. Huh.

“It’s pretty intense,” you said, studying the canvas.

“Yeah,” Jeongguk replied. “S’pose that makes sense, though.”

You glanced at him. “Because you’re feeling like it?”

He hesitated. Then nodded. “You kinda… do that to me.”

Your smile wavered for a millisecond—not in a bad way. In a breath-caught kind of way. A quiet pause before your expression softened.

“Good,” you whispered. “Because you—”

The ringing of your name being called across the gallery ceased the little conversation you were having.

You sighed, eyebrows furrowing, and looked over.

Jeongguk reluctantly tore his gaze from your face and followed yours over to see a man striding over. He was tall. Well-dressed. And very clearly knew you, the way he sauntered over, arms wide open in welcome. His coat flared slightly as he walked to your corner and had that laid-back, easy grin that made Jeongguk’s eye twitch in irritation.

Without hesitation, you stepped towards him, situating yourself into his arms that wrapped all the way around you. It was déjà vu—the way the hug looked so familiar to him. It was too close. And too long.

Jeongguk stood motionless.

His hands hung awkwardly at his sides, fingers alternating between being clenched into fists or flexing involuntarily with nerves… or something more. He tried to understand what the hell was happening in front of him—and what you were on the verge of saying—but he was all too distracted by the lack of space between you and that stranger.

When you finally pulled away, the guy leaned in to say something close to your ear. Jeongguk didn't miss the way your eyes flickered briefly back to him and away, like it never happened. You faltered.

“I’ll be back in a second,” you told him quickly, that ever-present softness in your voice still lingering, but dimmed. “I’ll catch you later, Jeonggukie, okay?”

He nodded. Tried to smile, but it came out more like a wince. Tried to let the sting not pierce his skin too deeply.

“Sure,” he replied. “Later.”

And with that, you walked off, arm in the stranger’s, and Jeongguk’s heart in your hand.

His posture sagged in small defeat, and he glanced towards Jimin, who was nearing him, sipping his wine and observing the turmoil Jeongguk was experiencing.

Jimin caught his eyes and raised a singular eyebrow with a smirk.

“Are you just gonna stand there?”

Jeongguk forced out a bitter laugh and brought his hands into his pockets.

“I’m fine.”

He knew he was lying. Jimin knew he was lying. The random women giving him a look as they walked past knew he was lying as well.

Every laugh that flowed from your lips felt like a knife digging into an old wound. When the stranger brushed a small strand of your hair behind your ear, Jeongguk scoffed, pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek and looked away.

He found himself shuffling closer to Jimin, letting the small talk between him and his best friend become a barrier to hide behind.

Your eyes met his once across the room, and you offered him a small smile—but Jeongguk looked away before the moment could unfold into anything more. Instead, he watched you weave in and out of the crowd, integrating into fruitless conversation yet still capturing the attention of everyone in the room.

“Maybe I should’ve asked who he was,” Jeongguk muttered under his breath to Jimin, who just chuckled and patted his shoulder.

“Chill, man,” he teased. “You’ll see her again. I’m sure.”

Jeongguk wanted to believe it—really he did—but it was hard to when that ‘later’ never came.

You disappeared into the night with the man—that Jeongguk never figured out the name of—like mist beneath the stars. And Jeongguk had waited, eyes constantly scanning the gallery until closing. Even helped the staff clean up the bar and stack some chairs, just in case you popped back in.

You didn’t.

Jeongguk was seething.

Well—not exactly seething. More so… mildly agitated. The kind of agitation that was so close to spilling over the surface and onto everyone around him.

The house was too warm.

The people too loud.

The lights too dim.

He wasn't even sure why he was there– sure it was his house, but Namjoon had convinced him to host a small party with familiar faces, ‘friends-of-friends’ so he would finally loosen up.

He’d spent the last half of the hour sipping on the same drink and dodging the half-drunk people that attempted to make conversation with him. 

That, and the god-awful playlist Jimin had put on. It was like Jimin was stuck being heartbroken or pumping his fist at a rave with the kind of music you just had to vibe with.

 And currently Jeongguk did not vibe with it. 

He kinda nodded his head to heartbreak songs though - he supposed he could relate just a tad. 

He hadn’t heard from you since the night at the gallery.

 Nothing. 

And it’s not like you were obligated to - numbers weren’t even exchanged - but Jeongguk’s hope was a persistent little bastard that maybe, just maybe thought you would ask Jimin for his number and check up on him.

And it wasn’t like Jeongguk hadn’t tried the same. He gave up on the subtle hints to Jimin and had straight up asked for your number, even though he was turned down - rather quickly- with the words,

“If it was meant to be, she would come to give it to you herself.”

Jeongguk sighs at the memory, nursing his drink and glaring into the clear liquid as if it had caused him personal anguish. The laughter of those around him fades in and out of his hearing. Everything is duller, like the colour had been vacuumed out from the room. He’s partly tempted to pull an Irish goodbye at his own party and just leave. Maybe grab his walkman on the way out to play a song that didn’t emotionally scar him.

But then he sees you.

You, standing by the kitchen island, in conversation with Namjoon. You, lit like a spotlight found you despite the purposely dim lighting. And you, head tipped back slightly, laughing at something Namjoon is saying. Gone is the tan coat, replaced by an off- the- shoulder black top that clings to your figure. Gone are the effortless waves, swapped for your hair pinned back, emphasising the delicate nature of your neck.

Jeongguk freezes, glass halfway to his mouth, breath lodging in his throat. You looked dreamlike, standing out amongst the crowd, like an advert he’d seen on television one too many times. He wouldn’t dare to skip out on you— not after knowing the smile you could give him.

When did you get here?

He doesn’t even realise Jimin has slipped into the little corner of the couch that Jeongguk was practically sprawled on until a shoulder nudges his own.

“You’re doing it again,” Jimin teases, sounding far too happy considering his playlist.

“What thing?” Jeongguk hisses, eyes locking onto the way you seamlessly flit around the kitchen.

“The ‘I’ve-dreamed-about-her-every-day-and-can’t-believe-she’s-here’ thing.”

Jeongguk scowls and shoves Jimin lightly, but his eyes don't stray. You haven’t noticed him yet. 

He can’t decide if that’s  mercy or torment.

“She knows, doesn’t she?” he asks.

The smug silence of his friend is enough.

“She asked me if you’d ever want to see her face again. I said you were a sucker for pretty faces and that she should come and find out for herself.”

Jeongguk gapes. 

“You’re such a menace.”

“Well it worked, didn’t it? She’s here. In the flesh.” Jimin grins, clapping a hand down on Jeongguk’s back. “Maybe she wanted free drinks. Or… see you.”

Jeongguk ignores Jimin’s banter, eyes still tracking your every movement. The way your fingers tap against your glass. Or the way your gaze occasionally drifts from whoever you were talking to, and sweeps across the room —but never quite meets his. 

And still, Jeongguk doesn’t approach you. Can't get himself to move up from that sofa. The weight in his chest keeps him tethered down. The unspoken words claw at his throat like before.

So he sips his drink. And waits.

The party hums around him, low and warm like the static of one of his vinyls that was left on  too long. 

You pass by him once, ever so briefly.

And in that one incandescent moment, your hand brushes his — hanging over the back of the couch—as you slide past on the way to the hallway. He doesn’t look up, but he knows it’s you, he feels it’s you. The absence of your touch shouldn’t linger the way it does

He doesn’t see where you go. Doesn’t even register why he’s following the scent of your perfume until his feet lead him to the hallway. Past the kitchen, past the shoes by the door, and away from the loud thrum of the party.

The bathroom door near the back end of his apartment iss half-open, an amber glow spilling through.

He raps his knuckles against the door.

“Occupied?”

A soft voice calls out.

“Yeah - give me a sec!”

But that voice…he knows it. He knows it too well.

Jeongguk pushes the door slightly - just a little further.

And there you are. Standing at the mirror, fingers fixing the wing of your eyeliner, with the smallest concentration crease forming between your brows. You see him in the reflection and halt your actions.

“Sorry-” he starts, already turning around to go back.

But you spin around, swiping a finger across the corner of your eyes.

“Wait Jeongguk.”

He freezes. The air is heavy, electricity tingling in the way that makes the space feel so much smaller than it already is..

“I was gonna leave,” you say after a beat, eyes searching his. “I…I didn't think you wanted to talk to me.”

“I thought you didn’t.”

A momentary pause. The tension doesn’t dissipate, only grows thicker, encircling the two of you like entertainment in a cage.

“I was waiting,” you start, “I didn’t want to interrupt. I wasn’t sure if…”

You don’t finish your sentence.

Jeongguk steps in. Closes the door behind him with a muted click.

“You came,” he murmurs, voice barely a decibel above a breath.

You smile at him. “I was told by a certain someone that if I wanted your number, I should come get it myself.”

Jeongguk gives a quiet laugh and steps closer to you.

“Funny. I was also told something similar. What are the chances it was the same person?”

You move forward, and lean up to him.

“A hundred percent.”

Your laughter at his expression is more subdued this time, eyes fluttering down to the space between you both—or the lack of. It’s close. So close. He can smell the fragrance radiating off of you, the floral scent ingrained into his head. He’s not sure if  it’s his pulse or yours echoing so loudly in the confined room.

“I was going to ask for it,” you say, voice softer now. “At the gallery.”

“I wanted to kiss you,” Jeongguk blurts.

It slips out. Honest. Raw. And unguarded.

Your eyes snap up to his, plush lips parting slightly, startled but… not afraid. Not uncomfortable.

“Why didn’t you?”

“You left with someone else.”

You nod. “That wasn’t what you think.”

Jeongguk doesn’t want to ask. He doesn’t want to ruin this moment. He’ll face the repercussions later—as long as he’s allowed in your presence for more than twenty minutes.

Your hands move. Brush down your sides, like you’re trying to ground yourself. Or preparing for something. His hands twitch. He wants to touch you. He wants to remember how your fingers felt against his jaw. But he waits. Waits for you to make the first move.

He’s done seeking first.

Your hand lifts slowly to his chest, palm lying flat over his sternum, right where his heartbeat betrays him. You can feel it. He’s sure.

“You’re still nervous,” you whisper.

“I’ve never wanted something so bad in my life.”

The air cracks.

Your fingers slide up lazily. Up to the collar of his shirt  Tugging him. Testing the waters.

“Hi,” you say.

That’s all he needs.

He’s moving before he can process his actions, lips pressing to yours in a kiss that doesn’t ask permission—but it doesn’t need to. It’s slow at first. Hesitant. Like he’s making sure you’re  really there. That this isn’t another cruel memory that would fade before he even woke up.

But when you sigh against his mouth, tilting your head just enough and nudging your nose against his—

Something inside of him explodes.

His hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him, mouth pressing with more desperation, tongue sweeping past your lips when you part them with a soft whimper that nearly undoes him. Your hands  tangle in his hair, anchoring yourself as he kisses you like he’d been waiting a lifetime.

The counter is cold against the back of your thighs as he lifts you onto it, barely stopping to catch his breath. His hand wedges around your hips, thumbs dragging across the sliver of skin where your shirt rides up.

You gasp into his mouth as he pulls you closer, chest to chest, heat unfurling between you like a wildfire.

He pulls back when you tug lightly on his hair, lips red and kiss-swollen, eyes hazy but focused.

“Hi,” you breathe out.

Jeongguk grins against your mouth.

“Hi baby,”

He reaches behind him, turning the lock on the door before moving for you again. His hands move with a practiced ease - the nerves from before nowhere to be found - as his hands slip under the hem of your shirt, warm fingers tracing the soft curve of your waist. His lips never leave yours, kisses rougher now, and more urgent.

Your breath mingles with his, hands clenching the fabric of his shirt, drawing him in closer, a siren in disguise.

His body presses firmly against yours, hips aligning, heat between you flaring.

With a quiet grunt, Jeongguk shifts, lifting you higher on the counter. His hands roam lower, fingers teasing the edge of your skirt, fingers dipping below the waistband. You arch into his touch, breath hitching and fingers tightening.

His mouth finds your jaw and he trails down, nipping gently before moving again - neck, collarbone, the skin below your shirt - a trail of fire in his wake.

Your fingers tangle in his hair once more, tugging, urging him deeper and harder. Jeongguk’s hands drift beneath your skirt, skimming the smoothness of your skin— inching toward that sensitive spot that makes you shiver.

He looks up at you, knees resting on the ground. Neither of you speak. The world’s shrunk to the heat of skin on skin, and the desperation laced into your frantic breaths.

He lifts your skirt up tentatively, eyes meeting yours in a silent ask. You nod. Oh how badly you need this.

Jeongguk’s fingers rub against your hip bones as he inches forwards. He presses soft kisses up your thigh, pausing when he meets your sweet spot.

“Jeongguk,” you whisper, voice shaky with anticipation.

He nudges his nose against you, “I’m here.”

He glances up at you once more, long enough to meet your eyes - dark, smouldering, and utterly focused on you - before diving in again. His tongue brushes against your underwear, rubbing up against you in a slow, teasing dance, exploring the promise in every touch.

You cry out, hands tightening at the edge of the counter, legs fighting the urge to close around his head. Jeongguk clamps his hands around your outer thighs, stabilising and ruining you at the same time.

He smiles against the lace of your underwear as you grip his hair, tongue lapping up any hint of your approaching climax. He licks deeper and triumphs as you call his name out once more, thighs trembling by his ears.

Burrowing himself deeper under your skirt, he almost halts his actions.

What if you think that he only wanted you for sex? What if this is a fleeting moment that won’t be rediscovered?

But before the irrational thoughts can settle, your hands pull on his hair, begging for him to come back up. He complies, clambering up, shaking his knees out and looks at you.

Meeting your tear stricken eyes, guilt settles in his chest,

“Are you-”

“I need you in me. Now. Jeongguk…please.”

And there it is.

His chest tightens like a wave crashing against the shore, relentless and full of emotion. This isn’t just affection he feels for you, this is an all-consuming force that pushes past reason.

He nods and reaches for his jeans. Doesn’t bother with pulling his jeans all the way off, just slides them down past his butt. Reaches for his length, stiff with need and leaking with arousal.

 One. Two. Three pumps and he grasps for the back of your thighs before pushing into you. He lets out a low moan into your ear, loudening as you squeeze around him. He falls forwards, hands falling beside you.

“B-baby, don’t do that, I’ll finish,” he murmurs along your neck, nibbling gently at the column of your throat.

Your arms clasp around his neck, nails clawing at his shoulders.

“Sorry… I’m just nervous,”

Jeongguk leans back. Smiles down at you and reaches for your hand. Fingers spanning the entirety of your wrist, he places your palm against his heart, mimicking your actions before.

“Me too,”

You melt at his words. Literally. Jeongguk feels you loosen up around him, nails no longer digging half crescents into his skin. He lets out a short breath and pulls back to the tip, before pressing into you again… and again.

You moan, head tilting back, one hand holding his, resting on your waist, the other, turning white with how tightly you were gripping the counter.

Jeongguk grabs the back of your neck, encouraging you to meet his eyes. He had your attention now —only his—and he wasn’t going to lose it.

There’s something so vulnerable about this position. Neither of you are fully unclothed, but you’re practically baring your hearts to each other.

Setting a steady pace, Jeongguk snaps his hips into you, grunting with every thrust, moving you further up the ledge next to the sink. He reaches around for your ass and pulls you closer. The movement shifts your positions slightly, where he’s deeper, and firmer inside of you..

“J-Jeongguk,” you rasp.

He thrusts harder, lewd noises of skin meeting skin filling the air.  Reaches down and rubs a finger against you,

“Come on baby. You can do it,”

Your back arches, curving into Jeongguk’s hands as you release—hot, sticky cum coating him and the inside of your thighs. You pulse frantically around him, pushing him forwards, moaning as your orgasm rips through you. 

Your arms give out, collapsing against the mirror above the sink with a broken whimper as you try and come down from your high.

“Oh fuck,” Jeongguk groans, pulling out, leaving you mourning the loss of him inside of you.

He jerks himself, hand fisted tightly around his cock, wrists moving with a rapid pace, hips stuttering and he chases his own climax.

You watch with bated breaths as his head tilts back, lip bitten raw in pleasure. A deep groan escapes him as his pace slows down, hips twitching forwards and he spills across your thighs in thick ropes. He fucks himself through his orgasm, one hand holding yours as he paints your skin milky.

He exhales as the last of his cum leaks out, and lets go of your hands to wipe the sweat lining his forehead.

He meets your eyes and lets out a little chuckle.

Leans forwards and pecks your nose. Your cheek. And then your forehead . You giggle at him and reach for a towel - to which he snatches it out of your hands, before running it under hot water. He swipes it across your thighs in gentle strokes, like he didn't just obliterate you and cleans himself up.

He pulls his jeans up, buckles his belt and pulls down your skirt. Reaching for your waist, he helps you hop off the counter.

You move towards the door, but he pulls you back. 

You meet his eyes. He swallows.

“I don’t want this to end. Ever.”

You look at him through your lashes and tuck a strand of his hair back.

“I’m gonna need your number first baby.”

Jeongguk grins, a smile lighting up his face as he wrenches the door open, hurrying for his phone that he left around somewhere.

Sunlight spills softly through the blind, casting warm stripes across the room where Jeongguk lies, you tucked under his arm. The quiet buzz of the city is distant, an otherworldly place that you’ve both stepped away from for a while. His arm rests loosely over your waist, arms sliding the hem of his t-shirt up as he traces small circles on your thigh.

For once, the voracious thoughts that constantly plagued his mind seem to have quietened down, leaving the calm weight of you beside him and the thrilling, quiet certainty of what happened last night.

You meet his eyes, and he smiles, dimples burrowing in his cheeks. No words are exchanged. This moment - this morning - is enough.

Jeongguk nudges his nose against yours,

“Can you accept my instagram request?”

You look up at him, eyebrows drawn together in confusion,

“Wha-”

The door creaks open and Jimin steps inside with an infuriatingly wide grin.

He laughs, breaking the tranquility of the morning. 

“By the way, Jeonggukie, I know what your favourite song is.”

Jeongguk stares at him, processing his words as Jimin’s teasing smile grows bigger.

“Okay?”

“And I’m also really good at making people play whatever songs I want.”

Jeongguk freezes. No way. He can’t be… that fucking little-

[mikashisus]

PARTNERS IN CRIME!

SYNOPSIS: soul eater au with genshin characters part one!!

PAIRING: kinich, venti, yelan, nilou x gn!reader

warnings: slight angst, mentions of death

notes: yall one of my irls finally got me to watch soul eater and it gave me so many ideas. i literally started the show back in june but i got so busy that i just.. never continued watching it.. 😭 until my friend invited me over to watch some episodes LMAO. there’ll be a part two to this cause i have more ideas with more characters teehee. anyw enjoy!!

KINICH

• the two of you became partners on a whim. your last partner had been tragically killed in battle and you were in the market for a new one. though, you were pretty standoffish towards everyone because you were grieving

• kinich was also looking for a partner around the same time and happened upon you after a meeting with lord death. you looked pretty worse for wear and he offered his shoulder for you to cry on. without thinking, he offered to be your new partner, and you agreed

• training together for the first time was a shit show, and your best friend, mualani, sat there laughing her ass off the entire time. you kept yelling at her to go find her meister and leave you and kinich alone so you could focus

• you had even more trouble adapting because kinich’s weapon form was a greatsword and your last weapon had been a gun. it was a huge change that required you to workout and build up muscle in order to properly wield him

• after a month or so, the two of you were able to finally build up your teamwork and trust. you spent a lot of time together in and out of classes to get to know each other better and form a bond. you easily formed an attachment to him, but he was a bit more reluctant due to his introverted personality

• you were shocked at how close you became in such a short period of time. before you knew it, you were taking on missions again and working on your soul resonance

• due to losing your last partner, you now had an irrational fear of losing kinich, which caused a lot of problems in battle. instead of letting him do his duty and protect his meister, you put yourself between him and the enemy and sacrificed your life to protect him. this habit eventually caused a huge fight between the two of you, with kinich sputtering out a confession

• shocked, you were left to mull over everything until you couldn’t take being away from him any longer and went to apologize. he also apologized for raising his voice, and you had a heart to heart talk that left a confession of your own slipping out

• you asked if he could forgive you, and he said he would, but only if you stopped taking the heat and let him actually do his job. reluctantly, you did, because you couldn’t say no to him when you loved him so much

VENTI

• the two of you had been long time partners, or “partners in crime” as he liked to call it. you were childhood friends turned lovers. he was your loyal weapon, and to him, you were his trusted meister

• you got on like oil and water, but you also couldn’t be more similar. opposites attract, after all. everyone always told you that you two were the most compatible weapon and meister ever. also the strongest… literal power couple

• you were able to collect 99 souls and a witch soul in no time together. together, your strength rivaled gods. venti himself was on par with a god, even if his weapon form was only that of a musical instrument

• on weekends, you spent your time training and venti would watch you from the sidelines, simply admiring you. you’d tell him to join you, which would always result in him asking for kisses in return if he did. every time, you’d say yes, because you just couldn’t say no

• whenever someone asked how you two got together, venti would come up with something different on the spot. once, he said that he was majorly attracted to you while watching you fight with another weapon in battle, and afterwards, went up to you asking to be your weapon instead and you dramatically threw away your last partner to become partners with him

• another time, he said that he dropped his uncle’s glass of wine on you while he was drunk and you ended up taking care of him for the night, which led to him professing his undying love for you. safe to say, no one actually knows the true story

• the true story of how you two got together was actually a bit more tragic. he sacrificed himself for you when you were teenagers. during your battle to collect a witch's soul, venti heroically threw himself in front of you to protect you and he was almost killed. in a fit of rage, you completely obliterated the witch and rushed over to your injured best friend. he played the situation off by making a few jokes, though they did nothing to stop your crying. thinking he was going to die, he confessed to you before you fed him the witch’s soul

• when he came to and was all healed up, you returned his sentiments. from then on, your bond grew stronger and served as an example for younger generations

YELAN

• being yelan’s weapon was rough work. you complained that she overworked you during training and you always seemed to have a quip ready on your tongue during battle

• never a dull moment between the two of you, as you were always the reckless type, and she tried her best to reel you in. after years of working together, your bond was exceptionally strong

• she teaches at DWMA, you think it’s hot

• you have an odd job outside of being a weapon. you work part-time as a tailor’s assistant

• you like to make dresses for her and she absolutely adores them, though she never admits it because she hates (not really) seeing that smug look on your face. it’s okay though, she’ll get you back by kissing you and laugh at your stunned expression

• you spend more time arguing with her than actually helping her fight enemies. she hates it, as she just likes to get things over and done with— especially since she’s an assassin

• your personalities are wildly different, but it makes you two all the more compatible

• at the end of the day, you make a great team and you have a bond that could never be severed. you’d sacrifice your life for her no matter what, even though you had full faith and trust in her that she could handle herself

NILOU

• she was more on the timid side than you. when you first met, your explosive personality made her a bit scared of you. it took a bit of time for her to warm up to you and gain the courage to actually say something

• you were the one who took the first step and approached her first. when you did, you accidentally scared her off, which caused you to sulk for a while. you just thought she was pretty and wanted to say so..

• after talking with her friends, dehya and dunyarzad, she went on a mission to find you and apologize for the way she acted. when she did find you, you were overlooking the city and sat in complete silence. she didn’t want to interrupt, but you already knew she was there

• she apologized profusely (after gaining the courage to sit down beside you) and the two of you talked for a long while. right before she was about to go home, she told you she was looking for a partner and would love for you to be hers. that was what set everything in motion, and you pledged to protect her as best you could

• she was tough for someone who looked very shy. she moved with a grace and elegance that entranced you, and you found yourself wanting to learn how to dance as well as she could. she immediately offered to teach you, and most of the time you spent bonding together was through dance lessons

• in turn, you taught her how to wield a sword better. the close proximity was a bit of a distraction for you both (in both dancing and sword training). soon, you found yourself wishing to be by her side like that forever

notes: shoutout to the stellaronhvnters disc for suggesting the last two characters. baizhu was also suggested, but he gives me the ick, so i didn’t include him LOL 😭 i have a discord server! it’s nice and cozy there, feel free to join! <3

© 2024 mikashisus. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

[mrcrawly]

MORE house MD headcanons (just hilson)

finished season 2 officially FINALLY. took forever. anyway these freaks live in the little furrows of my brain and eat my grey matter so here's this

House:

had multiple deadly allergies as a kid that he grew out of as an adult for some reason

the pickiest eater you have ever seen. the canned soup is not a laziness thing he's just afraid to waste his money on shit he won't eat

composes his own songs on the piano when he's got time but never writes then down, freestyles that shit

DEFINITELY has some pot he smokes a few times a year

obviously when Wilson learns this he's concerned that maybe it's laced and is like House where are you getting this and House literally tells him the exact location on the exact part of town on the exact street and where the guy normally is on weekdays because he assumes Wilson wanted in on it

subconsciously thinks of Chase, Cameron, and Foreman as his children. of course he doesn't realize it nor would he ever admit it so don't misinterpret but lwk worries about them a lot and talks about them to acquaintances in such a way that multiple people actually think he has three grown up children

gets overstimulated fairly easily but not the shut-down-get-quiet overstimulation he starts yelling and hitting things and getting pissed off

has bad anxiety but in the opposite way most people do. doesn't get anxious in most social situations at all whatsoever but give that man ten minutes alone with his thoughts in his own house and he's sweating

doesn't sing but has perfect pitch. sometimes someone in the office will hum something or make a noise and he'll just absently go "E flat" (based on one of my irl friends noah you won't see this but you freak me the fuck out with that)

runs cold all year (something something universal recipient)

eventually stops drinking because it gives him panic attacks and nightmares

sad weepy drunk

pretends not to care about patients but there have been several times that a patient died and made him completely shut down for days at a time

views his disability as something to compensate for

if House MD took place in the modern day he would definitely have a twitch live stream about a patient to get idea

chronic nail biter

most definitely would own one of those massive fucking brick flip phones even if the show was set today

he doesn't know what OS stands for. couldn't tell you what a USB-C looked like if his life depended on it. wouldn't be very good at operating a smart phone. has an extremely durable cheap phone because he's always dropping and/or throwing it

Wilson:

lactose intolerant methinks

or possibly gluten sensitive

would still eat gluten bread and dairy products regardless

never quite got the hang of chopsticks. if he gets sushi or Chinese takeout with House, House makes that little chopsticks contraption for him

do you guys know what im talking about

the kind of autism that makes you feel bad about everything ever all the time and obsessed with a particular thing

definitely collected baseball cards at some point in his life

doesn't really keep kosher but hates most meat so he rarely ends up mixing dairy and meat anyways

if you gave him one of those Nee Doh nice cube things he would sit there and play with that shit for hours at a time

if he was born in the right generation he would have loved slime as a kid

ended up really close with House's team

does marching Halloween costumes with House every single year

House actually doesn't like Halloween (lots of walking) but it makes Wilson happy so usually he agrees

one year they went as American Gothic (House insisted on being the old man with the pitchfork and now everyone has photos of Wilson in a bad blonde wig)

really good in pediatrics. it really wears on him if he has a young patient but he handles it really well

taught himself to make balloon animals for the pediatric cancer patients

runs warm all year (something something universal donor)

big spoon

has joint problems but he insists it's not that bad so he won't go get seen for it

favorite movie is Pretty in Pink

office teddy bear. working in oncology is hard and some of the nurses just don't take it as well, so if he's around he takes it upon himself to comfort them

shockingly pretty good with technology and phones. i like to think this is because he has a fairly adaptive personality as it is and medical technology (especially in oncology) is always changing so he's used to keeping up with new things

definitely would have one of those fucking military ass otterboxes and a tempered glass screen protector and a camera protector like someone is gonna come run over his fucking phone

lwk i think he'd be kinky asf but im gonna leave that there

[cringeworms]

I'm writing an analysis of gender performativity in The Silence of the Lambs for my gender and sexuality class and in the course of my research I have encountered so many bad takes!! I can't not say anything so I've come to Tumblr to rant.

The most common criticism I see is that the ending of "Hannibal" discredits, undoes, or diminishes Clarice's feminism, autonomy, or power, or that it ruins the message of SOTL. That indicates a complete misunderstanding of Clarice and the point of the books! The point of "Hannibal" is to show that it does not matter how amazing, powerful, or how much of a feminist you are: if you are a woman in a career, especially a federal career, the system is designed to put you down and keep you quiet. I think there is nothing more she could have done and nothing she could have done differently to prevent her disgrace. When the system is set up to put men in power and keep them in power, your talent and integrity do not matter if they decide they don't want/need you anymore. There is nothing she can do to prevent the label of "female officer" from haunting her credibility. Even Crawford, who respects her and fights for her, sees her with the caveat of "woman." The one man who does not consider her gender any sort of detriment or a reason to treat her differently is Hannibal Lecter. They have genuine mutual respect. When she chose to be with him, she chose respect, love, and comfort over a life of fighting to be recognized, respected, or listened to. Just as much as it is respectable for women to fight for their right to be recognized in their careers, we must also recognize that that fight should not need to exist in the first place. So, why should there be any shame about choosing not to fight that fight anymore? She spent years in an uphill battle, and she probably never would have escaped it (to no fault of her own!). The ending of "Hannibal" is Clarice raising a middle finger to the system, the FBI, misogyny, and the patriarchy by recognizing that she deserves unconditional love and respect and that the system she fought so hard for was, in fact, completely undeserving of her talent or presence. Her decision is powerful and empowered!

"She was brainwashed!" she literally wasn't. Hannibal tried that (I believe because he was so unfamiliar with the idea of love or family that he didn't know how to understand Clarice outside of the lens of Mischa) but he was unsuccessful. If she was able to resist his efforts of brainwashing while in an altered state she certainly had the strength of mind to make her own decisions. Her decision was not impulsive. Also, I think it serves as a testament to her influence and power over him. She gained control of the situation and he didn't resist that. Ultimately, Clarice chose to spend the rest of her life with the one man who ever truly saw her as more than just a woman, who admired her intellect, and who respected her enough to challenge her. That is not weak, submissive, or misogynistic. Quite the opposite. She chose to leave behind the life she put years of effort into building (because she knew it would be fruitless) in favor of being finally honored and appreciated. That takes courage! She knew her worth, and she knew the FBI didn't deserve her.

Also, anyone who paid any attention to the books saw the romantic tension throughout the story. It didn't come out of nowhere. She really just needed an opportunity or an excuse to be with him, and she was finally presented with it.

I think reading the ending to "Hannibal" as anything other than empowering is a mischaracterization of both Clarice and Hannibal and shows a lack of understanding of the message of the books. I think it reflects a shallow understanding of not only the books, but of how feminism operates IRL (especially during the 80s/90s).

I also must give the disclaimer that I do not think these books are epitomes of feminism or representation. The transmisogyny, racism, queerphobia, etc., are obviously inexcusable. Just because I interpret their message as a story of caution about how misogyny operates, and how it is respectable to choose a path that does not work within that system, does not mean I agree with everything presented in them or any of their harmful rhetorics or stereotypes. I have a STRONG love/hate relationship with these stories and I don't ever mean to undersell the "hate" part of that lol.

[banana-can-do-art]

Guys I just finished the well it’s not the entirety of Riddle’s dream there’s still like an hour and a half that hasn’t been translated on Gasmask’s channel but I finished the part that they did translate and omg heeelp this is the best dream yet. This is so sad omg I have to ramble about it also all translations I’m using are from gas mask on YouTube.

First of all omg he’s so happy it’s making me sad. Also him saying that he would be tired of everything being the same all the time right after I made that post rambling about how his implied OCD causes him to always do everything in a “samey” manner I aaaaagghhhh. And he’s saying that he’s going to have a chaotic band because in his dream he isn’t upset when things aren’t in order and he can just let himself be happy. You can’t do this to meeee! But there’s more!

Look he’s happily breaking the rules and feeling no anxiety about it whatsoever. (OCD be gone). In his dream world he can do what he wants with no terrible parents or mental illness holding him back. Look at him he’s adorable. And then we have this though agghhh.

This is so sad! When Ace and everyone tells him about what he’s like in real life as though they are talking about another person, Riddle immediately hates the person they are describing. Because he doesn’t like who he is irl. In fact, Riddle even says here that he hates school and studying and that it makes people miss out on the fun things in life. It’s so sad because who he actually is irl is the complete opposite of what he wants to be. He’s so isolated and self loathing I can’t.

Also in the dream Riddle isn’t even a mage. Because he doesn’t even actually like doing magic because all of the joy was sapped out of that for him because he’s always expected to do it perfectly. He never just gets to do magic because he wants to or because it’s fun but rather only because others expect and pressure him too. It feels like the idea of a hobby losing its charm and fun when people have to make it into their jobs. (I hope that doesn’t happen to me heeeelp)

Also I felt so bad for Trey during this because he knows the most about Riddle’s reality and he is the entrenched in it himself. Riddle’s mom screamed at him for five hours as a child and he’s scarred from everything that happened with Riddle and his mom as a kid and yet now he’s supposed to just walk into Riddle’s house like nothing’s wrong. That must be so jarring and unsettling. Props to Trey for managing to do that honestly that’s freaking terrifying.

Also I can’t with all of those pictures on the wall. What do you mean he hates his real life so much that in his dreams his entire memory has become fabricated. His real life memories are completely different from his dream memories. And what do you mean that in his dream his parents are together and they love him and neither of them are mages and he just lives a happy and normal life?! What do you mean?!

Also, even though his parents love him in the dream, his mom has been so awful to him irl that even though everything is fake he can’t even actually picture her face saying nice things to him so it’s just the house talking to him. That’s so awful!

Also then we get this whole reference to the scene in Alice in wonderland where Alice has the big tears and people are drowning. Except it’s tea this time lol. Also Riddle crying that he wants to get out of the house is so sad even in his dreams he can’t escape agshdjdjdj. Omg Cater is so funny in the drowning scene though, he’s just like stop crying we’re gonna drown lmao. Also I know Chenya is fake but it is still so unbelievably funny how he is literally drowning in tea and yet he just has this huge smirk on his face the whole time lol. Chenya’s so silly.

Also the house became so creepy omg I saw someone saying it looks like an rpg maker horror game and like it really does! Specifically I think it really looks like Sunny’s house during the truth sequence of Omori.

Speaking of rpg maker horror games, Malleus was really channeling his inner rpg maker horror villain this update. Poor Idia lol. My condolences to Idia, he’s become the main character of an rpg maker horror game. I dunno Idia if we are going for Omori parallels then maybe you should open that door.

And then later when he gets pulled deeper the dream reflects false desires. To have control over the dorm while everyone bows down to him is was he thinks he wants but not his actual true desire. That’s why in the second layer of his dream even though he is in power, he still seems miserable because we know that he doesn’t even want to be a mage in the first place, much less have all of these rules.

And then Chenya pushes him over and he gets tangled in his cape lmao. That was so funny and then the screen is just Riddle with his feet in the air lmao. That outfit is not conducive to getting up from a fall.

But omg when the darkness is telling him that in the dream they respect him while irl he is isolated it’s so sad. Because he knows that irl his rules and strictness (and OCD) isolate him and that’s why it’s so difficult for him to make friends. He understands that he is lonely because he is a control freak like this, and yet it’s the only thing that he knows how to do because it’s all he’s been taught. (And also because he’s mentally ill you see).

This is all so sad I can’t. Twst! How could you do this to me?!

Anyway, in conclusion punk band Riddle is the most amazing thing to ever grace my eyeballs just look at him. We need a Riddle vocaloid band rhythm game spinoff immediately actually. Also his new fit is absolutely slaying look at him go!

Now I must wait in agony for the next hour and a half or so to be translated by the great and amazing fandom hero, gasmask.

[blue-nerd-b24]

Hellooo!!

I have come because I was listening to music earlier today and a song came on that I immediately thought fit Jay in your Reboot Gone Wrong AU!! The song was "Mr. Brightside" by The Killers if ya wanna give it a listen. I just thought it fit well. :D

Gotta say,I listened to song and tunes out I listened to it before when I had stardew Valley era.

Yes,A lot of things work with lyrics of song and how it goes(especially how both part are same lyrics but with little feeling of different way it was executed vocally)

I could say that the part with “she is touch his chest now,he takes off her dress now” would definitely be opposite of Jays thinking,lyrics going all about him thinking of what is happening while the animatic would show them almost not interacting (most of their perfect match thing would be public for sake of others eyes),It could show that song goes by Jays perspective rather than the story itself.

“Swimming through sick lullabies,Chocking on your Alibis” definitely would work with scene showing Nya flirting with Cole in that infamous scene and then her trying to come up with explanation to Jay at his parents junkyard after Pixal tells about perfect match.

“but it’s just the price I pay” yes,it fits Jays self consciousness,He always tries to find problem in himself.Skybound showed how he believed something was wrong with him that strained Nya away from him(either his personify,Junkyard origin or unseriousness,his mind comes up with explanation).in some way,He just accept that idea and moves on(or does he),so basically paying price and learning lesson(or is it)

“Open up my eager eyes, ‘cause im Mr.brightside” this part in my opinion would fit him finding fatherly bond with Lou,with showing them spending time in arcade,him helping Lou with homework,monitoring him train on his powers and celebrating his achievements. And yes,He is Mr.Brightside.Despite such big chunk of his life being full for drama and woe,He found good in it,which is being Lou��s uncle

As much as I wanted to draw all sequences I wrote about,Im quite busy and booked on things going on irl, sorry 😭😭😭😭😭😭

but I really wanted to answer to this question with something to show my appreciation ,so I got this little piece showing that Even when Cole and Nya were having wedding,Some of that jealousy was still eating Jay from inside.

I like idea that he believed in deep meaning behind his and Nyas relationship,he believed in them being made for each other,or at least being more than just a couple. He can’t understand why it’s Cole and not him,why it took him almost half year just to sure he and Nya are dating,yet It took Cole few month TO MARRY HER (actually it’s Cole and Nya rushing everything cause they are young and stupid and yk)

“How did it end up like this” of course a little denial is fitting for Jay,tho it’s literally them(him,Kai and Zane) being witnesses on their wedding,Also maybe implying how fast Cole and Nya went in their “relationship” to rush into marriage

“It was only a kiss” x 2 would be basically jay saying “yo,she didn’t like you that much,stop dreaming delusions and live your life,if you care for her and Cole,You should be happy” to himself,Convincing him that he and Nya don’t belong together

Also,thank you very much for inspiring me to draw this part of story,Sometimes I get stuck with how to follow the story,what piece of timeline to show and how to integrate changes of AU,Im happy people see associations with my story in songs/other media and Im glad for how my vision of Jay in this AU was perceived by others

Again,thank you for being interested and supporting my art!💙💙💙💙

O hope to find time to make full sheet for Lou,Im still stuck on what Animal choose for his signature animal

[e-adlirez]

Design Hot Take

(Plus a Mira that I accidentally butchered the proportions of but ignore that for me please o<-<)

I feel like a good portion of Mira’s disguise problem would’ve been solved if she had her hair in a bun. Let me, an animation student and general nerd, explain :3c

So in animation and character design we have a bit of an obsession with silhouettes and the idea of being able to recognize the shape and frame of a character even if you blacked out a picture of them such that you could only see their outline. (If you’ve been in the Hellaverse fandom at all you’d know what I mean.) Usually what would define a character’s silhouette would be some sort of defining feature, like their body proportions, general physical shapes, body posture, or in more realistic styles a notable article of clothing or their hairstyle. Obviously there's more to it than that (color scheme, vibes, how the character themself is like), but silhouette is so big that it's the first thing we in the animation industry look into when we're going to design a character.

In Mira's case, almost all of her silhouette is defined by her long-ass hair that she has draped down and usually has little twin tails in the back (I dunno what they're called exactly I'm not a fashion person); sooooo if we're trying to make Mira not look like Mira, first order of business is to do something about the hair. She's already taken the first step by not doing the twin tails thing and instead wearing a cap, but she still got that long-ass hair in the back giving away who she is. Solution? Tie it up :3

Bun, ponytail-- literally anything will do tbh, but I'm leaning more to bun because it means her hair then will have almost no way of implying what it looks like when it's down, which would otherwise let most people connect the dots and be like ":O is that Mira from HUNTR/X :OOOOO"

Once you got that down, practically everything else falls into place (besides face mask and shades, but uh animation has an understandable allergy to giving expressive characters masks that hinder their ability to show expressions unless the mask is a huge part of the character's deal, also I can't imagine how nightmarish simulation would be for a mask model on a talking person's face in Maya). Mira's idol aesthetic seems to be punk rock, so her disguise actually kinda works since she's gone in the opposite direction with a casual high fashion look (she even ditched the choker) that's made casual with what is clearly the jeans and sneakers she wears in her family photo at the beginning of the film, because girly needs to manspread in peace goddammit <3

And guess what? It works irl, too :3c we subconsciously have tells for how we know people by-- body language, fashion sense, mannerisms if you know how them a little better-- so naturally doing something about them would take care of that really quick to a certain extent :D

Celebrities have mentioned being able to walk around Times Square without being recognized at all partially because they were wearing casual everyday clothes instead of the expected suit or character-associated costume from a film; Superman's Clark Kent disguise while ridiculed actually works when you add all the personality quirks he has as Clark (small posture, baggy clothes to conceal muscle, raised and unassertive voice) and it is partly based on Superman's actor's experience being out in public as himself and as Superman; even the CIA uses this concept to disguise their agents, though obviously they take it to a whole new level!

And well, if nothing else, I think she'd look very pretty with her hair up haha

[skibasyndrome]

why are your kinktober stories all bottom Simon heavy? I trusted we would see more bottom Wille from you /gen

Anon, up front, genuinely sorry if you meant well and are now about to get the brunt of my frustration that I've built up for over a decade of existing in fandoms and fanfic spaces surrounding queer men and their sex.

Ooookay, I try not to engage in this discourse normally because frankly? It's kinda draining, because the way queer men's sex lifes are picked apart in lots of online spaces is not okay and, frankly, hurtful. But, okay:

I have posted 10 of 31 stories

I intentionally don't tag any of my smut as top!/bottom! anything (tho I don't mind other writers doing it - go off) cause frankly? I don't believe that's something that should matter. It doesn't to me when I think of wilmon. Preferences are fine, cool, awesome, both irl and in reading, there are couples who like to do things one way only and there are couples who mix things up and there's lots of stuff in between. People love to bottom! People love to top! People love any- and everything in between and that is great for them. All of that is fun and cool and absolutely awesome if everyone involved is on board. I simply don't have any one way I headcanon wilmon, I literally just go with whatever the vibe is. That also means I don't believe in having to strike a 50/50 balance or whatever. Also because

sex between men (and, since in one of the stories Wille is a trans woman, between all people, for that matter) is about more than anal and/or penetration. I love to read and write about Wille bottoming, love to write and read about Simon bottoming. But that's noooooot all there is. One thing I do try to do with my smut is write about some of the other ways sex can look. Which includes (mutual) masturbation, hand jobs, blow jobs, intercrural, frottage, a myriad of other acts. All of these are fullfilling ways of having sex, all of these don't follow top/bottom "logic" or whatever you'd like to call it. So what do we do about that?

I know some people - not saying you do, this, anon - like to conflate topping and bottoming with power dynamics, be it sub/dom type of stuff, or just... some vague idea of who is superior or whatever. And that very much CAN be the case, I'd argue Wille bottoming in my vampire fic or even Wille during the wax play in the one fic and the intercrural afterwards is definitely bordering sub-y territory. But you know? That also very much doesn't have to be the case. In the fic that includes 69 it's Simon "calling the shots" or whatever you'd like to call it, despite being the one that's being penetrated. I have fics planned out where the opposite is the case, I have plenty of fics where bottoming doesn't have anything to do about being sub or being dom or anything like that. I think there's this idea going around that somehow, (gay) sex acts are linked to power and power exchange and that there needs to be some equilibrium or... justice??? And. No. That's not how consensual sex, be it in relationships or hookups, works in my mind. In consensual sex, there is no disadvantage in bottoming or no need for any of the partners to bottom to fix some sort of hierarchy. Because there is none. Not in the consensual sex of two (or more) partners that want to have sex to have a good time or feel close or relax or any of the other reasons people have sex.

Fair question to ask, just know that I don't write bottom anything for the sake of making a point, I just write whatever feels like the characters would enjoy it in that particular moment in time, whatever suits the POV I wanna go with. I don't keep a tally of times penetrative sex has been part of a story and who did what. If that's a no-go for you, that's fine and I won't hold it against you. I have a bunch more stories coming up with all kinds of dynamics, all kinds of sex acts, all kinds of differently written versions of our two blorbos.

hope this was concise enough and I recognize that I've definitely put all kinds of other, adjacent, points into this, but this gay man right here is kind of fucking sick and tired of seeing stuff assigned to gay sex acts that are just. sex between consenting partners

[ruinix]

Hello, lovelies.

After the anon, I have been told about talks about me. I've seen them. Posts where i'm being mentioned and called out on without my knowing. Even touching on a different topic beyond the fics I wrote like my previous reblogs, which i tried to delete but I don't have hours to scroll down everything. It made me cry my eyes out more.

Well, i guess there is nothing to defend. I've written four dark fics now. It is very much disgusting, yes, but it is Dark Romance. A genre I liked. What I learned I liked since I came into terms that I am into cnc irl which somehow translated to writing noncon to take control of the idea. I am so fucked in the head. But i get it. They're real people. Still the fact remains they're RPFs. Real Person Fiction.

I, now, remember why I chose AO3 over Tumblr years ago (i was what 13/14? Got exposed so early in my life). People over there just understand that RPF are actual fiction. Warnings are respected over there. Once you filter them out, you don't go reading them. There you can go to different fandoms and do it. Actors and actresses even got their own fandom as who they are. As them. Not as the roles/fictional roles they play. Just them. Them with a reader. Them with another person of the opposite gender or the same. So that's RPF too.

Literally anything. They're made into a character.

That's what fics are. Fluff. Hurt/Comfort. Dark. Angst. Angst/Comfort. All of them are literally the actual person in a seperate image. The differences are the topics being touched on.

Not once did I see a person talking down to a writer because the fic that was too dark (aka dead dove in AO3, topics which are so much more darker)). Because they read the warnings and respected it. Not your cup of tea, scroll. Bye. I've done that. Hell, I even excluded happy endings when I wanted nothing but tears at the end of their 100k fics.

Like what I've learned in AO3, I put warnings, because I know people needed them. I need them because I read my fics too and I wouldn't read anything that I do not want atm. So many warnings. So many different tags for this blog. I guess it's not enough because people would still read beyond the break. Four fics. I've written four dark fics.

In my head, there's always been isolated boxes. Quinn in my fics is different from actual Quinn. Never will it be. No matter how hard I think of Quinn as a sweet guy, a sweet partner who will do anything for his love interest, I will never know if he is actually that sweet. I fully believe he is. But I am also someone who sees people as good before I get broken into pieces when I learned they are actually not that good. These isolated boxes has been a great way to cope. Different realities of several people I've met and see online. All for my happiness. Maybe because I daydream a lot.

I've given a lot. Even a shred of myself as I write every fic. I was the first reader. I wanted to be loved so passionately that it hurts. I've never been loved like that (not yet? Maybe?) so hopefully, in the daydream, people will also yearn for it as much as I do.

For my dark fics, I wanted people to feel safe that even if they loved something so dark and fucked up things, they are free to do so. To explore and learn their hard limits. That's exactly how I learned my limits in my society that all sex is taboo. Even safe and consensual sex are taboo. I've never had the discussion of sex. No sex education in my previous curriculum. We were thrown out in the wild. Discover shit on our own. I hated that. I hated that I had to be exposed to pornhub, only to learn it is far beyond real. I hated that I had to explore books to learn my hard limits and how to be safe on my own.

Well, this is me rambling. There's nothing much to say since I've really written fucked up things. Nothing to say beyond how I view real Quinn different from any of the Quinns I've written. Because he is and will be.

[Edit: Previous post and New things I will be implementing for this blog is in this post]

[yokemaxxing]

on anon 'cause i dont want to get in drama and i just wanted to see some cool art, but...

degenerate is a nazi term. did you seriously just describe someone as a degenerate and a nazi! you do know how hypocritical that is, right?

i can't stand people like you who act so high and mighty but act just as shitty- in fact more so- than the person you're calling out. Why the hell are you, an adult, talking about a teen like that? Do you really think that teen thinks that rape is actually okay? Do you think that people who engage in pet play or bondage are disgusting?

get off of tumblr with your puritan bullshit.

Was clearing out my inbox when I saw this beauty, so let’s just break this down.

First off, i didn’t know the word “degenerate” was a term originally used by Nazis, this is the only thing I’m actually sorry for and I will remove it from my regular vocabulary to describe things. One thing I’m genuinely fascinated by is how you seem to really hone in on the whole me using a nazi term that I didn’t know was a nazi term instead of condemning aurora for making hitler jokes..which is arguably much worse. The fact that you’re bringing up filler instead of addressing the actual issue here tells me all I need to know about how you and how you perceive shit. I would also like to add that I NEVER called aurora a nazi, because she isn’t. I literally just shared screenshots of her making hitler jokes while saying it was distasteful and weird.

“I can’t stand people who act all high and mighty but act just as shitty” please tell me when i was ever “just as shitty” as aurora, because I genuinely don’t know how you can come to the conclusion that making a beware post on a weird rape obsessed teen is somehow in line with being a rape obsessed teen …this genuinely makes no sense to me.

Hey uhm also, I’m not an adult, I’m 17 as of typing this out which is just 2 years older than aurora. Claiming im “an adult attacking a helpless minor” is really bogus like?? You didn’t even know my age before sending me this you just assumed???

Lastly, i am hesitant to believe that aurora actually thinks rape is okay, but I’m only saying this because I have no idea of knowing. Even if they do understand that rape isn’t okay irl, I still find what they’re doing to be deplorable.. fiction very much affects reality and if they continue to go down this rabbit hole of taboo porn obsessed nonsense, it’ll end up harming them forever. I genuinely do care about auroras well being and I hope they’ll see the error of their ways..as someone who has been in a similar situation while not as bad, I know how fucking awful it feels to go down such a dark path. You act as if I’m actively sending people to attack aurora when I’m literally doing the opposite?? I hoped my post would teach them that this shit is unacceptable in a fandom full of minors, my intent was never to spread hate to aurora. Also great comparison with the whole “puppy play and bondage is just as bad as fantasying about rape” thing!!! Really opened my eyes to how stupid this ask was and how you have no idea what any of these terms mean!!!!!!

Anyways yeah, this was a huge waste of my time and yours, hope you actually have the balls next time to send this un anonymously : ]]

[zelle-png]

wtf... persona 3 marching band AU???

Context under the cut because there's a LOT behind this...

Okay. Background.

Last month I had to fly across the country for marching band. We had a two day trip where we flew to the opposite side of the country on a 5 hour flight and then immediately had to perform and play for a football game. The very next morning we had to fly back home on another 5 hour flight. All in all. It was 46 hours. Call time was 3:30 am so I had to wake up at 2 am the day of. I could not sleep on the plane and due to Issues with the rooming situation, I elected to sleep curled up in a wooden chair. I did not sleep for more than 15 minutes at a time that night. I also could not sleep on the plane ride back. On the way back, I was so exhausted and sleep deprived, I was insanely nauseous and so, so dehydrated. I had a pounding headache that wouldn't go away and I kind of hated literally everything.

Do you guys know that specific genre of fanart where people draw their favorite characters working like shitty minimum wage jobs as a way of coping with their own shitty minimum wage jobs? Yeah. Same idea here. I came up with marching band headcanons for p3-5 characters and it was comforting to be quite honest. It also filled up the time on that flight. Now that the season is over, I'm getting like marching band withdrawal so I wanted to draw out some of these headcanons. I put way too much thought into these, but here are the headcanons for the p3 crew lmao:

Minato - Pit, Bass Guitar: I figured he wouldn't really be a big fan of marching but would still want to play music so pit seemed like a good fit. Bass guitar specifically was just based off of Vibes.

Kotone - Trumpet Section Leader: Maybe it's because she's the MC but idk, trumpet just seemed to fit and I felt like she'd be section leader on top of that.

Yukari - Piccolo: Okay. This one PAINED me because irl I hate the piccolo section at my school. They're so annoying and so impressively united in being consistently and confidently WRONG. But I have to admit, Yukari unfortunately has piccolo energy. She's still my fave idc.

Junpei - Trombone: He just had to be low brass, c'mon. He's definitely also the kind of guy to call himself a "boner."

Akihiko - Color Guard Section Leader: My first inclination was trumpet. However, I remembered a guy in color guard at my school who's very much a gym bro and takes guard WAY too seriously. Yeah. That made me assign Akihiko to color guard. Probably played trumpet in middle school though.

Mitsuru - Drum Major, formerly Alto Saxophone: She obviously had to be drum major, no question about it. Idk why really I decided on alto saxophone though, I just felt that she wouldn't be a brass player and sax fit the best outside of that.

Fuuka - Pit, Vibraphone: Same reasoning as Minato but I feel like she'd fw vibraphone specifically idk why. Lowkey this one is also vaguely based off the personality of someone in my school's marching band.

Aigis - Mellophone: I feel like she'd be a brass player but definitely not low brass and also not trumpet. Hence, the mellophone. It also did occur to me that maybe playing a reed instrument as a robot that like probably doesn't have salivary glands would be ummm, difficult to say the least.

Ken - Percussion: Okay so, he's not in high school so he would be in like concert band for middle school instead. He seems like he'd gravitate towards percussion but like he would actually take it seriously as opposed to the average middle school percussionist who just screws around in the back of the band room while the director talks to the wind section. If he were in high school, center snare.

Shinjiro - Baritone: Had to be low brass. I also considered sousaphone, but baritone I felt was a better choice. I feel like he probably only did band in middle school because Akihiko decided to do it and then Akihiko switched to guard in high school but Shinjiro just figured "I already play this fuckass euphonium, might as well march with the baritone."

Ryoji - Trumpet or Pit, Drum Set: I figured he would join whatever section the MC was in, hence the two different choices here.

Chidori - Clarinet: Just pretend she's also in high school. Umm anyways, definitely a woodwind player but piccolo/flute and sax just didn't fit. As someone who plays the clarinet, just trust me on this one.

Umm anyways, I might draw more of these for p4 and p5, but we'll see. I'm cringe, but I'm free <3

[jedi-enthusiast]

Palpatine is deffinitly the most talented and smartest villain of pop culture.

How do I get to this to this conclusion ? The mananaged to litteraly manipulate IRL. All the anti-jedi ppl that make up a decent chunk of the fandom litteraly fell for the empire's propaganda. (They'd be great imperials !)

But all jokes aside, let's be glad all these Jedi-haters fell for and focus on fictional propaganda and cheer on a fictional genocide instead of real ones.

Lmao yeah, I think it's hilarious that the same people who will agree that Palpatine is THE villain of Star Wars so easily fall for his propaganda. It's almost like they only think Palpatine was a villain because of how he treated Anakin...oh wait!

In all seriousness, I think that these people would have NO IDEA that Palpatine was a villain if he wasn't LITERALLY dressed in all black and SW didn't constantly put a neon sign over his head saying "VILLAIN." I think if he kept his "kind old man" persona and wasn't shown physically abusing Anakin/putting him in the Vader-machine thing then anti-Jedi/Stanakins would literally just treat him like they treat Dooku and Anakin-

"He was just sick of the dogmatic ways of the Jedi and wanted things to change!"

"The Jedi were oppressing him and his culture [the Sith]!" - they say, ignoring that Sith culture is literally just abuse, genocide, slavery, and fascism.

"Well, if the Jedi didn't want him to commit genocide against them, desecrate their temples, and destroy all information about their culture then they should've just let him do what he wanted!" - they say, ignoring that what he wanted to do was abuse, genocide, slavery, and fascism.

-and I also think that they would praise Palpatine for his treatment of Anakin and say that Palpatine was- "the only one who supported/understood him" -because he was in direct opposition to the Jedi and these people think- "control your emotions and don't act out of anger/grief" -is abuse and- "act on your emotions freely, the harm you do to yourself and others doesn't matter" -is A+ parenting.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Fics Written In 2025 (So Far) Masterlist

And I'll be clawing at your heart until you let me in (ao3) - achromatic__sky

Summary: When Dan suggested a weekend trip to the beach as a "romantic boyfriend getaway," he thought it was the perfect idea. Sure, Blackpool is all he can afford on his own, but he’s convinced it will still be special—right ? But as one mishap after another turns the day into a string of disasters, Dan starts questioning not just the trip, but himself—and the future of their relationship.

Thankfully Phil is always here and his unexpected skill at arcade games, a hidden talent he’s never shared with Dan, might just save the day.

Or when a plushie makes everything better. Inspired by that one-liner from the AmazingDan react—because sometimes, a little roomba recycling is all it takes to create magic.

Charming (ao3) - eatmedrinkme (incrediblytired)

Summary: The panties should have been nothing.

And maybe in any other world at any other time, they would have been nothing. Today they were something.

cheek & tongue. (ao3) - razussy

Summary: being your true self to the person you love is a special kind of feeling.

Doomed, But Just Enough (ao3) - VendettaWoundsu

Summary: Nothing in Dan Howell's life seems to be going well lately. He hates law school, has literally no friends, and is just going about life on autopilot.

However, the sudden appearance of a mysterious stranger throws a wrench in this whole routine. And maybe, it's all Dan needs to finally let happiness back into his life.

everything hurts but you make things a bit better (ao3) - That_cool_weirdo

Summary: I'm annoyed that my joints don't work so i wrote a fluffy fic of 2009 phan's first irl meeting where dan has all of my issues (joint pain, hypermobility, weak joints, weird periods of lightheadedness and seeing stars whenever i stand up or stretch or anything, etc.) anywayz, hope you enjoy :)

Hit and Run (ao3) - skygremlin

Summary: "I would ask no questions, and I would help him get rid of the body." - Dan Howell, 2025

I Love Him (ao3) - yikesola

Summary: There’s a lot to love about tour, but free time in a city on the opposite end of the world is very high on the list.

A fic about art galleries and love at first sight.

Incapacitated (ao3) - mermaidstailonmyface (louislittletomlintum)

Summary: the one where dan has a broken arm and needs help with washing his hair

Little bird, say it again (ao3) - ottertrashpalace

Summary: “I can’t believe that just happened,” Dan panted.

Phil laughed. “Why not?”

“I dunno… I guess—I dunno.” I didn’t think omegas in heat could do that seemed too embarrassing to say out loud.

Love; or, a note on terminology (ao3) - ottertrashpalace

Summary: There are few things humans love more than nice, neat labels. There are also few lies that are whiter.

Monochromatic Serotonin (ao3) - skygremlin

Summary: Dan doesn’t wear much jewelry except occasionally in videos or at events, but he’s open to trying a bit of accessorizing when a photo online catches his eye. But sometimes just buying things isn’t an option, and he falls down the rabbit hole learning how and why until it’s four in the morning and he’s sorting every bead he owns by color in the hopes that someone will appreciate the designs he’d made.

(Dan discovers a new hobby in making jewelry.)

none of this will matter in an hour (ao3) - EverythingIsAsItWas

Summary: The end of the world was announced today. With only a few hours left and no one but each other, Dan and Phil have some serious talks and serious reckoning as to who they are to each other.

pass around miami party bottom (ao3) - danhoweiis

Summary: phil just wanted a quiet drink in a bar, he wasn't expecting to meet dan, let alone go home with him

prayer for love (ao3) - phansong

Summary: “You're ridiculous,” said Dan, unable to stop one side of her mouth from curling up. I love you, she thought. But she couldn't say it. Not out loud, in the way that she meant it, which would be more an admission of sin than anything else. Maybe not ever.

Dan and Pippa meet as sisters at a convent.

rattlesnake (ao3) - ZackStriker (PyroStormIsBae)

Summary: to the mirror dan says, "i am sorry you got stuck with me," to the birds he says, "do you ever feel like your body is not your body?" to phil he says, "could you maybe sit a little further away from me during this video?"

phil looks at him with equal amounts despair and love. 'this feels right,' dan thinks, 'this is what love should be for me: painful. it’s what i deserve.'

or: a fic juxtaposing 2012's grief with 2024's joy.

Ring Pop (ao3) - Scuddleduck

Summary: A feeling settles into Dan one day, a feeling he's dismissed for years.

I want to marry this man

safe harbor (ao3) - cityofphanchester

Summary: He’s gorgeous, that’s the first thing Dan notices: gorgeous and tall and sleekly blond and effortlessly charming. The second and third things, in rapid succession, are the metal band around his wrist, claiming him with the pulse of its tiny white light, and the faint scent of ozone and empty air. He’s wearing a striped jumper, electric blue and fuzzy against the chill of the windy months, but when Dan’s eyes flick down he can see the gentle swell of his stomach, the way his hand drifts unconsciously to rest against it. A surrogate. Dan’s lived enough of his life in uneasy proximity to the Glissant to recognize one, but he can’t guess how far along he is.

The surrogate glances down the coffee shop, and his eyes are blue with an unearthly glow.

Scent (ao3) - dipnpip

Summary: Dan buys a new cologne and Phil is a big fan!

sk8ter girl (ao3) - ShiwiSins (IetjeSiobhan)

Summary: “She can’t even keep herself on the board for longer than three minutes, what makes you think she could teach you?” PJ asks doubtfully.

“She looks hot,” Dani says, and PJ cackles.

“That’s not a qualification for teaching someone how to skateboard,” he tells Dani wisely.

Soft (ao3) - dipnpip

Summary: On a rare day-off together touring Europe, Dan becomes increasingly flustered by Phil's soft skin while out sightseeing.

The Art of Hiding Pain (ao3) - Swiftpaw

Summary: Dan had never been good at explaining his thoughts and feelings to others. How could he, when he did not understand them himself?

Or, 5 times Dan pushed everyone away and 1 time Phil would not let him face his struggles alone

Tuck (ao3) - imademon

Summary: Dan is practicing how to tuck as Sister Daniel, with Phil's help.

Wasteland, Baby (I'm in love with you) (ao3) - skygremlin

Summary: The end of the world is slow and quiet. There are no explosions, no riots, just the gradual buildup of floods and fires and earthquakes until the earth can’t take it anymore.

Dan doesn’t believe in the politicians and their ideas of “normalcy,” but he absolutely believes in Phil and would follow him through hell and back. Phil wants to believe in hope and fate, but what matters most is that through it all he still has Dan.

Dan and Phil in the apocalypse, inspired by Hozier’s album, “Wasteland, Baby!”

would you still love me if I was a worm? (ao3) - antiadvil

Summary: Look. Someone had to write this fic.

(Dan asks Phil if he would still love him if Dan was a worm. Phil says no.)

you carry the sun in your hand (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: Phil rents a flat with a ghost in it, and somehow it gets weirder from there.

[silviakundera]

Did a speedrun through modern cdrama Everyone Loves Me because I'm a fan of both leads. A fairly well constructed romcom for a specific trope, AND also one of the most valid examples of the critique that cdrama storylines are pointlessly over-extended. This would have been a great modern drama at 12 episodes. Unfortunately, it's at least 10 episodes too long. The literal gaming (characters interacting while playing videogames) is very light - it's an initiating plot device piece but doesn't consume much actual screen time. The real genre is IT workplace romance with Hidden Identity trope.

Do you like:

* Capable & ambitious female lead x male lead with a competency kink whose turn-offs are white lotus & green tea girls and turn-ons are brash ladies who can cuss you out; dressing up to impress is not required

* Romantic dynamic of equal partners (2 strong personalities, not active/passive)

* "We don't know yet who is going to be the breadwinner. My goal is to be a CEO."

* Low heat (just a few kisses),

* modern workplace dramas (so much working)

[heavy spoilers below]

The actual set up & outline are:

* Online friend group who casually game together, in the last days of university. One of the guys starts catching feelings for the girl, our FL (let's call him Gamer Friend). FL isn't romantically considering Gamer Friend at all, because she has a crush on a guy from her uni.

* This crush is Gamer Friend in rl! 😮

* ML isn't open to being crushed on by anyone at rl uni, because he is already hung up on FL (as his online friend) 🙈

* FL asks for advice from her gaming buds on how to pursue her rl crush. Gamer Friend doesn't want her to succeed, because he wants to win her heart, so he keeps giving terrible advice to chase him by acting out the soft-spoken innocent maiden archetype (the opposite of FL's real boisterous & brash personality)

* This creates a comedy of errors where ML in rl is being pursued by the woman he's in love with, but he's shooting her down left & right. This culminates in her confessing and he publically rejects her in a harsh manner. When she comes crying (and vengeful) to the group, the guys all realize the identity confusion. Appropriately horrified, bros have no idea what to do. (This whole scene is gold tbh.)

* This plotline covers 7 episodes, but should have been dealt with in 4.

* Next 5 episodes (should have been 2!): Gamer Friend, toiling under karma, tries to be virtually supportive of his beloved while in person desperately making gestures to show remorse & have her less willing to obliterate his RL person. (this is all complicated by them both hired into the same company post-grad; there's a whole gaming dev & art design subplot - like in Lighter & Princess, the writers did the research so the setting is reality-based). This arc ends with identity reveal: she finally knows irl crush = Gamer Friend

* Next 6-7 episodes lead her from being (rightfully) furious and humiliated to them finally becoming friendly & supportive of each other. He waits to ask for more until he feels truly forgiven for the shakespearean hijinks that kept them apart. Includes work drama and fake-dating For Reasons. This arc, again, could have been 3-4 episodes.

* Final 5 episode arc is dating era and culmination of the gaming dev plotline. Heavy emphasis on work drama. Only 2 out of the last 5 episodes had significant romance material for the main couple, which was the major flaw in the drama. Avoided the separation cliche but also no marriage scenes at the end - we just see that they're still close, supportive partners a year later. Should have been 3 episodes ;)

The structure is right for a simple rom com set up of: one party pursues, gets rejected, then the other party pursues & corrects their mistake. The misunderstandings are logical enough; FL is assertive and we see evidence of her talent (not just told); ML likes her for herself & doesn't want a childish, obedient woman like the idol dramas represent; they are shown to make a good team & respect each other; the wronged party isn't a push over and their forgiveness has to be earned. It's clear why they like each other and that they work as a couple. (Though the emphasis is on compatibility & domesticity rather than sexual heat.)

The showrunner just needed to compress each arc and spend a lot less time on corporate minutiae. The way I engage with this type of drama is to binge, skip all 2nd couple scenes, and liberal use of fast forward ⏩⏩.

[velvetvexations]

I don't want to come across as too critical or anything, but I do want to say that I don't really like the way you claim that most trfs are tme. It feels, at least to me, a little like an anecdotal fallacy. For instance, I've had the exact opposite experience as you, for instance: every trans person amab I've met irl has been super into tme/tma framework and very "trans women experience super special oppression and trans men sometimes experience splash damage" whereas most (admittedly, not all, but 90%+) of the trans people afab have been pretty receptive to the idea of transmasc people experiencing issues overlapping with but still distinct from other types of trans people and that no "type" of trans person is "more oppressed". But I think it is wrong and not very helpful to say that trfism is the domain of one group or the other (and binarist).

I want to say for the record, none of this is solely transfems fault, nor do I believe transfems are the only ones pushing any of this rhetoric, this is a widespread issue among the left and queer community as a whole. That said, I do think leftist and queer spaces are just as much if not more to blame for tme trfs, not just the right. The left and the queer community pretty frequently push this narrative that trans women are particularly vulnerable, that trans women, specifically, need protection, that they, specifically, are being targeted beyond that of any other group of trans people. Even when people say "trans people", in my experience they typically mean "trans women". When transmasculine people come out, especially when we start "passing" as "cis men", we are told constantly that we need to atone for perceived faults and that we have to protect literally everyone else in the community. I think from there it's an easy jump to needing to prove that they are "one of the good ones tm". I swallowed this rhetoric hook, line, and sinker when I was earlier in my transition. I don't expect conservatives to be on my side, but if even those who claim to support me are saying this then I must have privilege, you know?

This isn't to excuse tme trfs, no type of radical feminism is excusable, this is just to say that the left holds a lot of blame for them existing as well, it's not just right wingers and ultimately, I don't think it's right to go after one "type" of trf because frankly both "types" are just as bad as the other.

I sent the last ask and I just realized I forgot to add this bit into the first paragraph, but I genuinely DO believe I've just met some "bad" transfems, I was not trying to imply that I believe ALL transfems are trfs or that MOST transfems are trfs, and I just want to apologize in advance if that is how it comes across. What I was trying to illustrate is that it depends on where you are and who you meet - sometimes you'll meet more transfem trfs and sometimes more transmasc trfs.

IDK, I don't think I'm saying it's the domain of self-identified TMEs, but more just that that it relies on them, which I think is reflected in the poll a TRF made saying "have you been harassed by velvetvexations?" and the option with the most votes was "I'm TME and no." Like even that mega-TRF's own followers who care enough to answer the poll were mostly tee-em-ees.