#THIS VIGNETTE IS SO FUNNY I LIKE IT

[linawritesocs]

dorm exchange event prologue! (fake? kinda?)

hi. my exams and assignments are still slowly killing me, but I AM NOT GOING DOWN WITHOUT A FIGHT.

so the last vignette i wrote was something like.. "a prologue part 1" maybe? or maybe it really was the "true" prologue and this is a "fake" one. (even though everything really does happen, but it's not like a first mention of this program, if you know what i mean)

so yeah, in this vignette the dorm exchange program gets announced and everyone gets sorted into their new dorms! and by "everyone" i mean my ocs because I REFUSE TO COME UP WITH NEW DORMS FOR THE CANON CHARACTERS TOO 😭😭

anyway, let's go! :D

[ night raven college - mirror chamber ]

minnie: *thinking* "and why did the raven mask guy tell all of us to gather here?"

minnie: *thinking* "if it's something stupid and it's actually not that serious.."

minnie: *thinking* "i'm not sure what i can do, even though he's an idiot, he's still the headmaster after all.."

minnie: *thinking* "oh, but maybe i can just go for his kneecaps."

minnie: *thinking and looking around* "most people here are acting like they don't really care about what's happening.."

sebek: MALLEUS-SAMA, WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN??

minnie: *thinking* ".. but of course, this guy still cares."

minnie: *thinking* "wait a second."

malleus: ...

minnie: *thinking* "the draconia guy is here too? whoa, it really must be something serious, if even he got invited."

minnie: hey, sebek, can't you be a little more quiet-

minnie: wait, why am i even asking, of course you can't. being loud and stupid is, like, your whole thing.

sebek: HOW CAN YOU BE SO INSENSITIVE, HUMAN? CAN'T YOU SEE HOW TERRIBLE AND TRAGIC MY SITUATION IS?

minnie: what, you couldn't get that malleus plush that was on sale or what?

malleus: .. a plush?

sebek: O-ON SALE??

minnie: *sighs* silver, you're the one who has all the braincells here, can you explain what happened?

lilia: aww, that's not fair, minnie-chan! i'm here too, you know!

minnie: shut up.

sebek: DID YOU JUST IMPLY THAT MALLEUS-SAMA'S INTELLIGENCE LEVEL IS LOW?

minnie: so you care more about his intelligence and not yours.. you never change, sebek.

silver: ah.. if i'm not wrong, we had to gather here for the "dorm exchange program"?

silver: i tried really hard to pay attention but.. i still ended up falling asleep right when the headmaster was explaining it.

silver: and sebek is.. not so happy about it.

minnie: huh? "the dorm exchange program"? what's that?

silver: ...

lilia: ...

minnie: what?

sebek: *laughs* YOU FOOLISH HUMAN! OF COURSE YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE! JUST AS EXPECTED FROM A PATHETIC HUMAN LIKE-

sebek: OW!

minnie: *steps on his foot* if you're so smart, care to explain to me, a foolish and pathetic human, what is going on here and how this dorm exchange thing works?

silver: u-uh, i can explain it to you-

minnie: no, no, thank you silver, but i want to hear his explanation.

minnie: come on, sebek, you are so smart compared to me, i can't do anything without your help, you know that!

sebek: ...

sebek: w-wait, y-you really can't-

minnie: *steps on his foot harder* THAT WAS A JOKE, YOU MALLEUS-OBSESSED IDIOT!

sebek: OKAY, OKAY, WE'RE SUPPOSED TO GET OUR NEW DORMS TODAY!

minnie: *lets him go* .. new dorms?

lilia: hehe, you really don't know anything about it, minnie-chan, do you?

minnie: do you want to be my next victim?

lilia: no, thank you.

minnie: so what about those new dorms?

lilia: you see, this dorm exchange program is all about nrc students getting sorted into different dorms and getting to see what it's like to be a part of that dorm.

lilia: you know, it's always good to get something new in your life, it can give you a fresh perspective on so many different things!

minnie: but.. for how long do we have to stay in our new dorms?

lilia: oh, i have no idea actually.

minnie: why am i not surprised..

lilia: but i'm sure that it will be fun! some students really could use spending some time in a different dorm.

minnie: ah.. sebek doesn't want to leave diasomnia, right?

sebek: WHY WOULD I WANT TO LEAVE? IT'S AN HONOR TO BE IN THE SAME DORM AS MALLEUS-SAMA!

malleus: i don't think that you will have to stay in that new dorm forever, sebek. this program is a temporary thing..

malleus: at least that's what we were told yesterday.

sebek: m-malleus-sama.. are you trying to comfort me??

sebek: y-you are so kind!..

minnie: and you are so pathetic..

minnie: come on, this guy literally has to calm you down and tell you that it's gonna end eventually. what are you, a baby?

sebek: WHO DID YOU CALL-

*sebek and minnie keep arguing in the background*

lilia: hehe, look at them bickering like an old married couple~

silver: i-i am pretty sure they're gonna kill each other one day if this continues.

crowley: everyone, i am so happy to see you!

minnie: oh, here he is.

crowley: now, i am sure you all know why i have told you to come here-

riley: i don't.

crowley: ...

vance: *whispering* r-riley-kun! it's about that dorm exchange thing!

vance: *whispering* you know, that one thing!

riley: ... oh.

riley: i see. i do know now.

crowley: good.

crowley: now, i have indeed told you to come here because i need you all to participate in the dorm exchange program. you all will be sorted into your new dorms and you will spend a week there before coming back to your "original" dorm.

minnie: you heard that, sebek? you'll have to leave your master only for a week, i'm sure you can do-

sebek: *crying* F-FOR A WEEK?? I WILL HAVE TO SPEND A WEEK WITHOUT SEEING MALLEUS-SAMA??

minnie: .. nevermind.

crowley: now, let me check if everyone is here..

crowley: oh, it looks like everyone really did come! good, good, i am so proud of you all!

crowley: now wait just a minute.

riddle: of course, someone didn't come..

minnie: *thinking and looking around* "but who could it be? even malleus himself came and they even forget to invite him to the dorm leader meetings! so who-"

minnie: *thinking* ".. oh no."

crowley: SETH-KUN! WHERE IS HE?

riddle: i thought he will come later, he never misses events like this, but..

riddle: *sighs* it looks like i was wrong.

azul: it's true that he's a quite active person, but let's not forget that he can be.. a bit forgetful, haha.

crowley: minnie-kun, you're in the same dorm as him, right? do you have anything to say about this?

minnie: oh, i do, actually.

crowley: y-you do??

malleus: *shows that he's listening*

riddle: but why didn't you say so earlier if you knew why he is not here?

minnie: oh, i just got so used to him running away from nrc that i forgot that he was supposed to come here too.

crowley + most students: HE RAN AWAY??

minnie: what, you didn't know about it? this guy loves hanging out with rsa students and after that symposium-festival-masquerade-arson thing, he likes to visit the city of flowers too.

azul: b-but.. how is he able to do it so casually? i thought we all should know about it, but some of us have never heard about it!

minnie: at first he kept it secret because you guys hate rsa students so much, but then he just thought that there's no reason why he should tell you about it.

minnie: seth is just that kind of guy. he doesn't want to spend too much time in one place, he wants more new things in his life.

leona: so he's just okay with being friends with our rivals?

malleus: and the fact that he's okay with still visiting that city and school even though flamme has almost stole our magic and he hurt seth during that fight as well..

malleus: yes, it was an accident, but still.

minnie: i have no idea how his brain works, so don't ask me any questions.

riddle: i just wish he could have told us earlier that he won't be able to come today.

minnie: sorry, seth's boyfriend number one, he's hanging out with the boyfriend number three right now.

riddle: boyfriend number one-

riddle: i meant that i wish he could have told us about it because this is an important school event and he should take part in it just like all of us!

minnie: sure, whatever.

minnie: anyway, mr. raven mask, can we start-

minnie: WHY ARE YOU CRYING??

crowley: s-so.. seth-kun actually.. d-doesn't like this school t-that much..

minnie: yeah, me neither.

crowley: HUH?

minnie: seriously, if i could transfer to rsa, i would.

crowley: HUH??

minnie: also i don't know much about nbc and the city of flowers, but from what seth has told me, it sounds fun. i'd love to visit it one day.

crowley: HUH???

crowley: oh no.. why did the ramshackle students have to betray me like this..

crowley: after everything that i have done for them- OW!

minnie: *steps on his foot* GET YOURSELF TOGETHER ALREADY!

crowley: okay. okay. i will.

ruggie: w-wow, this girl sure is scary, isn't she?

ruggie: imagine if she gets sent to our dorm, haha..

crowley: oh, about that.

ruggie: HE HEARD ME??

crowley: even though ramshackle students are magicless and they can't do much, so there's not any reason why they should participate in this program..

crowley: because i'm so kind, i still want to give them a chance and see what it's like to be a part of a different dorm!

minnie: wait, WHAT??

minnie: i- i will be sent to a different dorm too??

crowley: well, seth-kun was also supposed to get a new dorm..

crowley: but as we all can see, seth-kun is not with us today, so he won't be able to participate.

crowley: and that makes you the only ramshackle student who will take part in this program!

minnie: *thinking* "seth.. did you run away on purpose? did you know that this is gonna happen?"

minnie: *thinking* "i don't want to be the only student from ramshackle who has to deal with this!"

minnie: *thinking* "and of course, jay can't participate either, crowley doesn't even know that he exists.. it's kind of sad, actually."

minnie: okay, i agree to take part in this thing, but can i ask something first?

crowley: sure, go ahead.

minnie: why is this even happening? i doubt that the reason is actually as deep as you make it sound.

minnie: you want the nrc students to "see what it's like to live in other dorms and get new experiences"? don't make me laugh, you would never come up with something like that on your own. there must be a reason why you had to send us to other dorms.

crowley: ...

malleus: actually, i want to know the reason for coming up with this program as well.

crowley: !!

crowley: well, uh..

crowley: y-you see, the dark mirror..

crowley: the dark mirror is actually not so sure about the dorms it has sorted you all into..

riddle: huh? what do you mean by that?

crowley: basically, it doesn't think that it has made a right choice.

crowley: the mirror wants to see how you all would act if you were sent to other dorms and if it turns out that your new dorm actually fits you better, you will stay there. if you would still be better in your "old" dorm, then you will be able to come back there.

minnie: .. so this whole thing is happening because the mirror is going through it right now?

crowley: .. yes, kind of.

crowley: you don't understand, our mirror has feelings too-

minnie: yeah, maybe seth was right and we really should transfer to a different school.

crowley: NO, YOU SHOULD NOT!

epel: i-i am sorry for asking this..

epel: so if i understood this correctly.. if the mirror sees that we're doing better in our new dorms, we will be allowed to stay there?

crowley: you are completely correct.

epel: YES, FINALLY-

vil: ...

epel: um, i mean- t-that's good to hear, haha..

riddle: what about the dorm leaders though? do they get sorted into other dorms too?

crowley: oh, no, you guys stay in your dorms actually.

crowley: you know, who else is gonna help those new students get used to their new dorms but you?

malleus: i guess it does make sense.

crowley: now, is everyone okay with that?

crowley: of course, you all are okay with that, why am i even asking, i'm the headmaster after all.

minnie: well, i'm not-

crowley: good, i will tell the dark mirror that you all are ready and after that we can start.

minnie: *thinking* "of course he ignored me.."

minnie: *thinking* "i guess i have no choice."

minnie: *thinking* "and i can't deny that i'm actually curious to hear which dorm the dark mirror will pick for me."

minnie: *thinking* "it will most likely be heartslabyul or pomefiore, i'm sure of it."

minnie: *thinking* "i wonder which dorm would seth get sorted into?"

[thebluestbluewords]

the problem with writing the fic about Jane’s recipe blog is that I desperately want to include my real favorite recipes in it!! Which would be so fun, because I genuinely enjoy baking and cook for myself almost every night, so I have a bunch of good recipes that could work for the fic.

Unfortunately, I forget sometimes (because I only cook for two people) that my cooking is….unsettlingly allergy friendly. Yes, it’s all gluten free. Sure, every single thing can be subbed out for non-dairy alternatives, and we often make them that way! Eggs are a little bit harder, but a ton of my baking recipes can use banana or applesauce with a little baking powder as a substitute for the moisture and leavening of a genuine egg.

Just…..I forget that not everyone is dealing with 3-5 food allergies at all times when baking for themselves and their friends.

[sangcreole]

you ever write a starter so perfect and self-contained like a beautiful little tableau of a scene that any following thread replies don’t quite satisfy so you just wanna take it and frame it on the wall by itself

[linabirb]

i think i've talked about it only on discord but the only reason why i still don't have a rollo theme is because. this man. refused to come home. and now i have to get gems and keys for him again because i am that desperate and i NEED him. so yes. i am just that mad at him.

[rayroseu]

I feel like this was obvious already but the castle illustrated in the Holiday Card that Malleus has given Yuu is actually Wild Rose Castle 😭 Before Book 7, I assumed this was the castle that is Malleus' home (Black Scale Castle basically), but Black Scale is covered with mountains instead of trees.

Whereas both the castle on the card and Wild Rose... their trees and the shape of the castle matches a lot, the position mirrors each other.

It just makes me tear up that there is actually references to Book 7 even earlier in game !! 😭✨This scene happened before Jamil's Overblot iirc and that was released so long ago now lol???

I wonder after Wild Rose Castle became a ruin, its become an "iconic place" on Briar Valley, that they make paintings that still "commemorates it."

I really believe that the castle Malleus wants to visit is actually Wild Rose (on his Bloom Birthday Interview).

However, based on Lilia's dream, Wild Rose doesn't seem to be getting reclaimation by Briar Valley,,, even though (as assumed by the art, it seems like its still in good condition, just covered it thorns), they're just letting it decay/become a ruin. Maybe to pay respect to the faes that died with it? Kind of like the Titanic and how "we can retrieve its ruins" but its more ethical to just let it deteriorate to pay respect to the dead that rests there yk

Also there was interesting build up in this vignette before the castle part... its that Malleus can go anywhere he wants, but he cannot go to places where he is uninvited. I wonder what makes him feel that he's "uninvited" with this castle ruin???😭 Its like he's repeating Lilia's situation where he took 400 years to visit Wild Rose again. Its assumed that Lilia didnt visit for a long time maybe because of his Unique Magic that he'll see how Meleanor died on that place?? There was also this instance where it feels like Malleus is referencing Lilia's UM, just that he's not seeing the past in scenery like Lilia, just feeling their presence for a bit(?).

Funny thing is about Malleus' Holiday Card... is that he sent this AFTER the holiday in Book 4 was over JDJSJS also I wonder what he said in this letter?

Malleus has always been consistent in inviting Yuu to Briar Valley, but this fact that he gave us a Holiday Card with Wild Rose Castle, a presumably ruin near Briar Valley reminds me of his wish that he wants to go to a castle ruins with someone... If we ever visit Briar Valley, I wonder if he'll take us on tour with the ruins instead of the Black Scale Castle/Dragon Capital City (out of the Senate's view yk) lol

[dancingbirdie]

Behold my labor of love: Astarion SMUT.

This idea came to me after writing my last fic Something Imagined / Something Real. I wanted to backtrack and reimagine Astarion and Tav's first night together after the tiefling party.

If smut is not your thing, no worries! You can scroll down to the first set of asterisks (***) to avoid reading those parts. You don't miss much at all plot-wise.

This is my first time ever writing smut. Please be kind. And I hope you enjoy!

EDIT: This is a flashback fic! Part 2 is Something Imagined / Something Real. And subsequent vignettes to come!

I Want It To Be You

Rating: Mature/NSFW

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: Detailed description of consensual sex, Tav's first time having sex, descriptions and references to Astarion's trauma/trauma responses, description of panic attack/anxiety, minor Act 1 and Act 2 spoilers, FLUFF, angst

“Are you absolutely certain about this? About… me?” 

If she weren’t already lying naked in his arms, she would have shed her clothes for him for that response alone. He wasn’t treating her like some oddity. And he was honoring her decision. It was more than anything Tav had dared hope for. 

Her eyes welled with tears that threatened to fall. She laughed, suddenly elated, before nodding her head vigorously. 

“I’m sure, Astarion,” she confirmed. “I want this to be with you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TWO WEEKS AGO

THE NIGHT OF THE TIEFLING PARTY

Let’s wait until things quiet down. Once the others are asleep, we’ll find each other. 

Astarion’s parting words replayed over and over again in her head as she padded quietly through the woods, away from the campsite. From the comfort and familiarity of the party. They hadn’t agreed on a meeting place, but Tav assumed his heightened senses would locate her soon enough. She was grateful for the extra moments to herself. Her stomach was knotted from nerves and anticipation for what the night might bring. 

She hadn’t told him that she was a virgin. He probably deserved to know, she realized that, but she hadn’t wanted him to change his mind just because he’d be taking something no one else had before. It was her choice, her body to give, she reasoned to herself. Whether for the first time or the hundredth time, it shouldn’t matter. Right?

Her past experiences certainly influenced her reticence. Divulging that particular information about herself had resulted in people immediately halting romantic pursuits with her, or leering at her like she was some sort of top-shelf prize they were about to take home. She didn’t want to know if, or where, Astarion might land on that spectrum. Didn’t think her heart could take either reaction from him. Besides, she’d read enough of those dirty romance tomes and scrolls throughout her life (for educational purposes, of course, she justified to herself) to have a general understanding of what happens during sex. Surely she could bluff her way through this. Right?

She wanted to please him. Wanted him to want her as much as she wanted him. It was no secret that Astarion had quickly become her favorite companion in this unlikely band of heroes she was traveling with. He was absolutely gorgeous, of course, but the longer she lingered around him, the less that seemed to matter. He was funny, in a devilish sort of way. Intelligent and cunning. Perceptive. And, while it was obvious that it unsettled the rest of the group, she genuinely appreciated how he prioritized his own self before bending over backwards to help someone else. Secretly, she wished she could emulate that a bit more in her own life, but years and years of people pleasing to win what scraps of affection she could was a hard habit to break. 

Clearly she was no closer to doing so, as there she stood. In the middle of a forest. Preparing for a midnight tryst with a person she had just met but grown to genuinely care for. And she wasn’t even sure that he would, or wanted to, return her sentiments. 

“There you are. I’ve been waiting.”

Astarion’s voice broke the mundane quiet of the forest that had lulled her into such ruminations. She turned toward the direction she had heard him speak and marveled at the sight of him slipping gracefully between the trees, moving ever slowly toward her. 

He had removed his shirt and was clad only in his leather breeches and boots. His alabaster skin practically glowed in the silvery light of the moon. He was the most beautiful person Tav thought she had ever laid eyes on, and it wasn’t only because she could now see the taut, sinewy muscles of his abdomen. He was perfectly fit in an elegant sort of way. Not like Halsin, with large bulging biceps, thick torso and sturdy legs. No, Astarion was like a leopard. Lithe, agile, regal even. And his face. Gods, the poets and painters could opine for centuries on his beautiful face without ever growing weary. 

“Is that so?” Tav called out in reply, walking to close the distance between them. By her estimate, she sounded much braver than she felt. Good. 

Astarion nodded, raising one hand to cup her cheek. “Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you,” he finished, the pad of his thumb grazing sensually across her lower lip. 

“You don’t have me yet,” she whispered teasingly, although both of them were clearly aware of how she had shivered when he touched her. How her head bowed into his touch, like a lovesick little thing. 

“Don’t I?” he smirked. “You’re here. And I don’t think you want to talk.” He stepped closer, completely absolving them both of any personal space. His free hand came to rest along the curve of her waist. 

“I think you want to be known. To be tasted.” He purred, lowering his head so that his lips ghosted the shell of her ear while he spoke.

Tav was thankful for the steadiness of his hands on her. His insinuations alone were quickly rendering her a quaking mess. But she didn’t want to be a selfish lover, and so she collected herself enough to pose a question in return.

“What do you want, Astarion?” she asked, bringing a hand to rest softly against his chest, over his heart.

She noted the way his brows drew down briefly, seeming almost confused by her question. But as quick as it came, the expression vanished, replaced by something much more confident. More assertive.

“What do any of us want?” he breathed. “Pleasure. Yours. Mine. Our collective ecstasy.”

Gently, so very gently, he began to trail hot, open-mouth kisses down the column of her neck. Tav’s breath caught audibly in her throat, and Astarion hummed in approval at her response.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?,” he murmured into the crook of her neck. “To lose yourself in me?”

It was fast becoming difficult for her to string two thoughts together. Astarion touching her like this sent shockwaves throughout her body. That curious heat she’d only known from touching herself began to kindle low in her belly. She clenched her thighs together subconsciously, trying to sate that feeling the fire was stirring up inside her. Astarion noticed her squirming, to his immense satisfaction.

“Well?” he coaxed in between kisses across her collarbone. His prompting reminded Tav that she had yet to answer his question, so lost was she in the feeling of his cool lips against her rapidly warming skin.

“I want to be with you. Share this night with you,” she answered honestly, unable to spare enough brain capacity to consider whether or not it was a good idea to be so forthcoming. 

“Such a charitable little thing,” he chuckled. “How could I deny you?”

And then his mouth captured hers. It was a searing, passionate kiss. A kiss that promised so much more pleasure to come. One that Tav had never known before, despite having partaken in her fair share of kisses over the years. But this kiss? This was the kiss of time-fated lovers. And Tav was desperate to match Astarion’s pace, desperate to feel more, more, more.

She moaned as he ran his tongue lightly against the seam of her lips, granting him entry to fully sweep in and plunder her mouth proper. Her fingers carded through his silvery blonde curls, nails scraping lightly against his scalp. He groaned in response, the sound vibrating in her mouth. 

She finally was forced to break their kiss after a few moments, hungrily gulping in air to alleviate her starving lungs. Astarion moved to ravage her neck once more, licking and sucking the soft delicate skin there. He gripped her ass possessively as he did so, walking her backwards until he was pressing her into the nearest tree.  

He lifted a knee to knock her legs apart before raising it higher to press into the juncture of her thighs. He delighted at how Tav immediately parted her legs for him, how she moaned from the pressure, how she subconsciously began grinding against him. 

“Look at you, you naughty thing” he crooned in her ear. “Riding my leg for some relief?”

Primal behavior called out, a scarlet blush immediately bloomed on Tav’s neck and cheeks. It only goaded Astarion further. 

“Go on then, darling. Rut against me. But I’m getting these lovely tits free first,” he whispered.  

He began undoing the laces on the front of her corset. Tav watched his progress, entranced by the gracefulness of his long, slender fingers. She was nearly trembling with anticipation. Once finished, she helped him extract her from the offending garment and allowed him to lift her chemise up, over her head, so that she was fully bare from the waist up. The cool night air turned her skin to gooseflesh, her nipples hardening.  

The sensation roused her lust-addled brain enough to realize just how vulnerable she was, standing there half-naked before him. She’d never been so exposed to another person before. Her fingers fluttered as she fought the sudden bout of nerves that insisted she cover her breasts from view. 

“Don’t you dare,” Astarion growled, plainly reading the self-conscious expression on her face. “I’ve been dying to see these for days now,” he continued, cupping one full breast and flicking her nipple lightly with his thumb. 

It sent a pulse thrumming directly to her core, and Tav moaned openly at the sensation. She could feel her simple linen breeches were completely drenched, was certain she was also dampening Astarion’s leg as she continued to grind against him.

Astarion chuckled, clearly pleased by her reaction. 

“So responsive,” he whispered before lowering his mouth to latch onto her breast. He sucked lightly, while his hand continued its assault on the other. She fisted his hair in one hand, kissing the top of his head lovingly while he worked her into a frenzy.

Tav felt like she was quickly losing any ability to maintain balance. Her body was aching, whining, for more. She wanted to be laid out on the ground, wanted him to press her into the soft earth, taking everything. 

“Astarion, please,” she panted, pulling at his curls. He groaned in response, releasing her nipple from his mouth. 

“Please what, pet?” he teased, kissing and licking up her sternum. 

“I need… more,” she whined, bucking against his leg. 

He huffed a laugh before sweeping her up in one smooth motion and lowering her to the soft grass beneath their feet. 

He began to loosen the fastenings of her breeches with a practiced ease. Tav watched, breathless, as he slid the fabric down her thighs, his mouth following with indolent, open-mouthed kisses. Each touch of his lips on her heated skin left her skin tingling, her hips canting slightly into the open air.

Finally bare before him, she watched as Astarion surveyed her from where she lay beneath him. In nearly all respects, he looked primed and ready to ravage her. His nostrils flared, detecting the heady scent of her arousal. His chest rose and fell with shallow, ragged breaths. For the first time, she took note of the considerable erection straining against the leathers he still wore. 

After a moment, he came down to lie beside her, pulling her onto her side so that her chest was pressed flush against his. He trailed a hand down her side, over the rise and fall of her curves, until he reached her thigh. He hiked her leg onto his hip.

But something was off. Amid her clouded thoughts, Tav thought she could sense it, even if she couldn’t precisely put a finger on it. Perhaps it was the look in his eyes? Or the perfect nature of his behavior? He seemed almost too practiced, too formulaic. Like an actor who’s rehearsed their lines to the point that the words have lost their meaning. He was there with her, but somehow he wasn’t, at the same time. 

“Are you all right?” Tav asked in a hushed voice, lifting a hand to cup his neck. She rubbed soothing circles with her thumb across his jawline.

“I’m more than all right, darling,” he replied with a smirk, squeezing her ass lightly.

 “You seem like… you’re not wholly present,” she explained.

“It’s difficult to decide what I’d like to do to you first,” he reasoned, sidestepping her unspoken question. “I’m torn between tasting you with my tongue, or fucking you with my fingers,” he smirked. 

Before she could respond, his fingers took an experimental swipe between her folds. She gasped at the feeling, her hips bucking against him. She watched, speechless, as he lifted that hand to suck the wetness from his fingers. Her wetness. In his mouth. 

He groaned in approval. “Mmm. You’re pure sweetness, darling.” 

All thoughts eddied from her mind. A singular, primal focus took over, and she suddenly clutched at Astarion’s neck with newfound ferocity. 

He seemed to know exactly how his behavior had affected her, if his impish grin was anything to go by. He lowered his hand to swipe against her once again, his fingers stopping to circle that sensitive bud at the apex of her thighs. Tav jerked in response, but Astarion had been prepared for it. He used his other arm to brace against her back, locking her in place against him. 

As she writhed against his hand, he repositioned himself to insert a finger inside her. She was deliciously warm and soaking wet. Soft, like velvet. His thumb continued to circle her clit, eliciting a long, low moan from Tav. Embarrassed, she attempted to muffle her voice by ducking her face into his chest. 

He chuckled again. “That’s it, sweet one. Let me hear you,” he goaded her. Her moans pitched higher in response. 

After a few moments of pistoning in and out of her, he inserted a second finger. But despite how drenched she was, he met considerable resistance, to his surprise. He stilled his fingers in response, uncertain. 

It took a moment for Tav to register that Astarion had stopped moving inside her. Caught somewhere between discomfort and satisfaction, the increased sense of fullness his two fingers brought was strange but not altogether unwelcome. She exhaled, but it came out as more of a hiss than a sigh. After a moment of stillness, she raised her head to look at him.

“What is it?” she questioned..

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” Astarion murmured. 

Tav flushed. He’d realized, despite her best efforts to cover up that truth. Absently, she wondered what had given her away. 

She said nothing at first, just studied him. He didn’t seem angry. But then again, she had quickly learned that Astarion was very skilled at masking his true feelings. 

“No. I haven’t,” she admitted.  

At her reply, he gently removed his fingers from inside her. He moved his hand to clutch her hip instead. 

She sighed, rolling onto her back, gazing up at the stars. “Is that going to be a problem for you?” 

Silence. It felt deafening in her ears. But then –  

“I’m a bad choice, darling,” he replied, his thumb rubbing absentmindedly over her hip bone. She failed to see the sad smile that graced his mouth. “A terrible choice, really. For your first time.”

“It’s my decision,” she retorted, lolling her head to the side so she could look him straight in the eyes. “I want it to be you, Astarion. But if this is going to be a… problem for you, or become some ordeal where you feel guilty or weirdly triumphant, then we can just–” 

“It’s not a problem for me. It’s your decision,” he affirmed softly, interrupting the beginning of her tirade. Some unknown emotion flitted across his features. He schooled his expression before she could really identify it.

“But I have to ask,” he continued, studying her seriously. “Are you absolutely certain about this? About… me?” 

If she weren’t already lying naked in his arms, she would have shed her clothes for him for that response alone. He wasn’t treating her like some oddity. And he was honoring her decision. It was more than anything Tav had dared hope for. 

Her eyes welled with tears that threatened to fall. She laughed, suddenly elated, before nodding her head vigorously. 

“I’m sure, Astarion,” she confirmed. “I want this to be with you.”

His eyes softened, obviously touched by her response. It was the first time tonight, she realized, that he had appeared vulnerable to her. He was staring at her as though he were seeing her for the first time. Like he couldn’t believe that the woman between his arms was real. 

Without another word, he captured her mouth in a passionate kiss. His tongue swept in her mouth at the same time he inserted his fingers again, tasting her gasp of pleasure. His thumb began circling her clit once more, and Tav was powerless to silence her moans.

“Good. So good, sweet girl,” he whispered in her ear after a few moments. “You’re so close.”

She let loose a whine, squeezing her eyes shut as she chased that ever-nearing precipice inside her. Astarion’s voice in her ear only pushed her that much closer.

“That’s it. Come for me,” he urged, and she felt her orgasm rip through her at his words. Stars collided behind her eyes as she tumbled from that cliff of pleasure, Astarion holding her and whispering soft praises as she floated back down to earth. 

Eventually her eyes fluttered open to see Astarion smiling openly at her. She felt her lips stretch up to return his grin.  

“That was… incredible,” she breathed. 

He huffed a soft laugh. “I’m not nearly finished with you. Unless you’d like to sto–”

“No,” Tav blurted, a little too loudly, interrupting him. “No. I want more. Please. Show me.”

“Of course, darling” Astarion promised, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. He gently released her and stood, beginning to remove his own clothing. Tav watched him brazenly, drinking in the sight of him. 

She moaned softly as he removed his breeches, his impressive length springing free. He remained still, allowing her to take in the sight of him fully naked before her. Curious, she sat up and lifted a hand to wrap around him. She marveled at the way he felt. Like velvet-wrapped steel. She gave a tentative stroke, thrilling as he groaned in response. She stroked him again, harder, intent on learning how to give him as much pleasure as he’d already given her. 

But he stayed her wrist with a gentle touch of his hand. She paused, looking up at him, confused. 

“As exquisite as teaching you how to stroke me would be,” he explained in a sultry voice, “I’m much more interested in teaching you something else tonight.”

Tav nodded mutely, lying back once more. She opened her legs for him to return to her. Astarion smiled, lowering himself on top of her. He braced his forearms on either side of her head, one hand absently combing through her hair. His hips fit perfectly in the cradle of her thighs, and she moaned as she felt him gently nudge against her entrance. 

“This is going to hurt at first,” he explained in a hushed whisper. She nodded, her breathing a bit uneven in anticipation of what would come next. 

“But then it will stop. You’ll stretch around me. And then it will feel good,” he continued. 

She nodded again, trying to remain focused on his words. But the primal part of her mind was warring against her. And it was winning. She subconsciously bucked her hips into him, marveling as she felt him slip between her folds just slightly. He hissed at the sensation, clenching his jaw.  

“Greedy little thing,” he chastised teasingly. “All right, enough talking. But you will tell me if you need to stop, yes?” 

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, I promise.”

“Good girl,” he purred.

And then slowly, gently, he sheathed himself fully inside her with a groan. 

Tav gasped in response. It was unlike any feeling she had ever felt before. Astarion had been right; it was painful at first. A pinching sensation. A mind-bending feeling of fullness. But then, but then, the feeling was phenomenal. She felt her walls stretch to accommodate him, felt herself clench around him, accepting him in his entirety. 

Astarion’s head dropped to the crook of her neck. His whole body trembled, as if it was taking all his restraint to remain still so she could grow accustomed to him. 

She canted her hips into him a bit, testing the waters. He groaned again in response, and she released a breathy chuckle. 

He raised his head at the sound, peering down at her. “You little minx,” he breathed. “You have no idea what you’ve started.”

She thrilled at his words, crying out in ecstasy as he began to thrust in and out of her. The pace he set was addicting; the rhythm had her pushing her hips up to meet him, her legs locked around his back to pull him closer.

“You’re taking me so, so well, darling,” Astarion grunted, ratcheting up his pace. “You’re so tight. So. Perfectly. Fucking. Tight.” 

His words were a fuel to her flame. She cried out his name again and again as he continued to rut into her, reveling in the feeling of him claiming her completely and totally. She was lost to the sensations, adrift in the fullness of Astarion inside her. 

Finally, or perhaps all too soon, she felt his pace begin to grow more erratic. His hips lost their rhythmic pumping. His groans grew louder. Sensing his release was close, Tav clutched him tighter, digging her heels in his back to pull him closer, clenching around his length inside her. 

“Yes, yes, FUCK,” he barked all at once, and her eyes rolled back into her head as he slammed himself to the hilt inside of her one final time. She could feel his release spilling inside her. 

Lost for words, she simply held Astarion as he half-collapsed on top of her, one arm still braced on the ground beside her head. Listless, euphoric, and utterly at peace, Tav raised one arm to gently caress his back, listening to his erratic breaths slow. Distantly, she noted the raised, rough sensation of scars on his upper back, but she was too consumed by their mutual pleasure to give it a further thought. 

Eventually, Astarion slipped out of her. He lowered himself to lie down beside her, curling one arm around her waist. 

Tav closed her eyes and curled into his side, suddenly overcome with drowsiness. “Thank you, Astarion” she whispered faintly. 

“For what, my darling?” he crooned, tucking an errant curl behind her ear. 

“For making my first time so wonderful,” she replied. 

She was asleep before he could think of a sufficient response. 

***

The panic was a monstrous thing. Clawing at his chest, its vice-like grip squeezing his lungs until inhaling felt like breathing through a reed. He could barely think. Barely move. Barely registered the lovely woman still sleeping peacefully beside him. 

The part of his brain that wasn’t frozen in fear chastised himself for behaving this way. He had taken plenty of virgins before. In fact, he had sought them out specifically. They were a much easier prey. They became attached to him so quickly, attributed so much more meaning to their first bout of lovemaking than perhaps more… seasoned individuals. 

He should have been elated. She was obviously besotted with him. His plan to ensure her loyalty was moving forward without a hitch. So then why was he feeling so horrible?

He turned to observe Tav. So close to him and yet so far away. Swept into that blissful sleep that continued to elude him. He watched her chest rise and fall with deep, steady breaths. Watched her eyelids twitch as her mind made its way through some dream. She was so very vulnerable in this position. And so very trusting. Of him, of all people. 

Astarion didn’t like many people. But he had developed a fondness for Tav, despite the short period of time they had known one another. She treated him like a person, not a monster. Not like the others in their party. She seemed to accept him for who he was, cynicism and vanity and all. He couldn’t remember ever knowing someone as kind to him as she was. She was… incredible.

And then it struck him. He was developing… something… for her. Feelings? Affection? The sentiments were so foreign to him, he didn’t even know what to call it. 

But the realization caused panic to clutch him even tighter. No. He couldn’t feel this way. He wouldn’t. 

This thing with Tav was purely transactional. It had to be. There was no other viable option. She had needed to feel something with someone. He had needed to secure an ally. That was all.

That is all this is, he thought, quashing the weak sentimental part of his mind. 

And come morning, he resolved he would make certain that that was all this was for her as well.  

***

Tav woke to the sound of birds chirping, high in the trees above her. The early morning sunlight filtered in through the forest, dappling her skin and warming her in the places that it touched. Opening her eyes, she spied Astarion, already dressed and standing a few paces in front of her. 

His back was facing her, his face lifted toward the sun. She noted how he held his arms outstretched by his sides, palms facing up as though he were trying to collect all the sunlight pouring into their little grove. Despite his preternatural sense of hearing, he didn’t seem to be aware that she’d awoken, so lost was he in his enjoyment of the sun’s rays. 

Tav’s heart nearly swelled to bursting as she watched him. Before all of this, he hadn’t felt the sunlight on his skin in over 200 years. Now, he was reveling in it. His joy was such an innocent, pure thing. 

How many times had Tav taken the sun warming her skin for granted? Probably all of her life, she supposed. To see someone so appreciative of something so utterly mundane to her… well, it was a sobering reminder to acknowledge those little pleasures in life, especially the ones that seemed so constant to her. 

She also took the time to study the strange pattern of scars on his back. She had felt some of the rough ridges last night, as she clutched him closer while he spilled himself inside her. But she hadn’t realized just how intricate and intentional the markings were. The sight of them sparked a rage inside her. Whoever the monster was who’d done this to him, they deserved to pay a price worse than death. 

Someday soon, she swore she would ask him about those markings. But not today. Not right now. Not in the aftermath of spending such a wonderful night together. No, the only thing she wanted for them both today was to revel in post-coital bliss. 

Not wishing to startle him, Tav intentionally laid back to stretch out her blissfully sore muscles, rustling the grass and fallen leaves around her. She threw in a halfhearted yawn for good measure. Secretly, she hoped he would return to her, take her again in this quiet forest, beneath the warmth of the sun.

“You sleep light,” Astarion chuckled, half-turning to speak to her but not meeting her gaze. “I thought you’d be exhausted after last night.” 

Tav hesitated at his tone. It wasn’t cold per se, but he sounded much more guarded than he had been last night. Perhaps she was just being extra sensitive in light of what they had shared, she reasoned.

“Did you enjoy it?” she asked hesitantly. She watched his back, waiting for a reply. “It felt like… you weren’t truly there…” she added, after a beat of silence. 

“I was… holding back a little, it’s true,” he finally responded. “I didn’t want to lose control. Delicious as you were… I didn’t want to go too far.”

“Oh, I see,” Tav replied, a bit dismayed. “I’m sorry you felt that way.”

Astarion turned and gave her a trademark smirk. “Think nothing of it, darling. Now,” he intoned, clapping his hands together. “Shall we get on? We’ve wasted enough time already.”

The words were like a lance to her heart. 

“I… I didn’t consider it a waste,” she murmured, trying with some difficulty to hide her hurt. 

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Astarion huffed. “I just meant I’d like to break camp and get out of here before those tieflings drag us into another one of their messes.”

“Sure, of course,” Tav nodded, smiling up at him, though it came across as more of a grimace. Then she broke eye contact, bending over under the guise of collecting her discarded clothing. Really, she didn’t think she could look at him a moment longer without crying. 

“I still need to dress,” she said, attempting a casual sort of air. “You go ahead without me.”

She sensed rather than saw Astarion hesitate at her suggestion. 

“Are you sure? We’re a fair walk from camp. I can spare a few moments and wait.”

“Positive,” she replied with false cheer. “Go on ahead. The last thing either of us need is the party jeering at us if we’d return together.” 

“Fair point,” Astarion conceded. “All right. Then… I’ll see you, back at camp.” Then he was walking away, back toward the direction of their fellow party members.

Tav waited until she could no longer hear his footsteps before she let loose a quiet sob. She wasn’t exactly sure why she was crying. Maybe it was just the stress of everything that had finally overwhelmed her. Maybe it was how abysmally this morning had gone. She didn’t know how she’d expected the morning after a sexual tryst to go, but she certainly hadn’t imagined what had just taken place. She hadn’t expected Astarion to slip that aloof mask he wore so well immediately back on, not when it was still just the two of them here. 

Then again, she reasoned, perhaps there was a perfectly justifiable reason for his actions. They barely knew one another, after all. He didn’t owe her anything beyond general respect. They hadn’t made any promises or ties to one another. They had simply agreed on a night of pleasure. That night had passed on. She should move on as well. Right?

But she had hoped. Oh, she had hoped. That maybe last night could have been the start of something new for her. For both of them. She knew she was a dreamer at heart. But still, part of her couldn’t help but hope that some silver lining would come out of all of this mess. 

In any case, she knew she needed to pull herself together before reentering the camp. She would not let anyone see her cry, especially Astarion. So she remained standing in the grove for a few moments longer, collecting herself. 

She forced her mind to focus on anything, anything else. She counted the birds she saw flitting amongst the tree limbs. She watched leaves swirling in their light, airy dance toward the ground. And she said a silent prayer to whatever gods were out there and possibly listening. She prayed that everything would work out the way it was meant to be.

[yuri-is-online]

ace has the biggest, fattest crush on yuu and it's amazing how he's winning against the rest of the cast. and yes even malleus is losing against ace and i said what i said!

he canonically commuted during winter season when yuu sent an SOS, offered to sleep next to them twice, was the first one to worry about them when everyone vanished in the spectral soiree and had a mini tantrum when they didnt realize how worried he was!! and lastly had the guts to tell malleus to his face, a top 5 magician in the twst universe, that what he did wasn't cool just cause he was worried sick abt yuu (and grim and deuce ig) !!!! Also he was so fucking worried when Yuu went to STYX and him and deuce couldn't contact him?!!

Also spoiler warning if u guys dont want spoilers on his vignette on the japanese event with stitch

Like!! When he thought that gantu's robots were there to attack them and the only one present was him, Yuu and Grim, he told them to run away and get help and he'll slow the robots down until they returned!! He was like "I won't let you pass me!", and he was so embarrassed when he found out it was just floyd and stitch 😭😭

End of spoiler

He's so down bad that it's endearing !! He's the bestest boy and its sad how ppl dont like him much!! (His fucking fault tho he's so mean to deuce, i want to punch him in the face then kiss him)

*want to make it clear that i am not trying to suggest this is cannon. it is my cannon though so it goes on my blog

Thank you for sending me more aceyuu propaganda I need it on my blog and people need to see this. He is winning against Malleus for me too (b ᵔ▽ᵔ)b He is a supportive and caring friend and there is so much there in game to fuel the aceyuu agenda. Honestly his little spats with Deuce are kind of funny to me. Deuce hits back just as hard (he actually has some of the better burns imho) Grim actually roasts Ace pretty good too sometimes, he's really easy to make fun of.

I do understand why people might dislike him, tsun isn't everyone's bag. Hell it isn't usually mine, but I just love how loyal of a guy Ace is. Aceyuu supremacy fr fr

[blacknedsoul-blog]

An unnecessarily detailed analysis of Lenore's face when she realizes how gay she is

(Someone thought to tell me that I wrote "incessantly" instead of "unnecessarily" the last time I did this? Didn't they? You people are terrible).

These two vignettes make me crack up. Partly because it's always funny to see Miss "I can pick fights with the Deans, but thinking about my crush makes me nervous UwU" panic, but also because it's impressive how many things have just clicked in Lenore's head at this point.

Like, this girl must be feeling like when you finish a puzzle. A very gay one.

What she knows so far

At this point, as far as Lenore knows, she and Annabel have not seen each other again. There was a goodbye, and she is aware of how much that hurt her. For me, there are two possibilities:

In this flashback, Lenore has realized that she is in love with Annabel, but it is an unrequited affection.

She interprets these feelings as "oh, I'm attracted to her because she was my only friend and she was painfully ripped out of my life. Yes, friends. Very good friends.

Personally, I prefer to interpret it as the second option (you will see why).

On the other hand, it's impossible not to see how willing Annabel is to give and receive affection when it comes to Lenore: in this scene, she tries to say goodbye with a kiss,

And when they're in the closet, she literally throws herself at her.

And I want to point out one thing: Lenore doesn't remember a romantic relationship, but her body seems to: she instinctively strokes her hair when she cuddles her, even though Annabel didn't ask her to. They have done this before. There is a familiarity to this interaction.

Finally. Lenore learned chapters ago that she burned down her house, stole her dead brother's clothes, cut her hair to look more like a man for…something. She doesn't know what yet, but it had to be something important.

And she remembers it when Ada opens her mouth.

(parenthesis: that comment also makes me laugh a lot, like, Ada, dear, if you knew the CRAZY things this woman has done for love).

Please, appreciate this gay panic

If Lenore had any doubt about her feelings for Annabel (assuming option 2), it has been completely erased: she is in love with her. There is no acceptable way to rationalize this as anything else. She was in the past and she definitely is now. That's what draws her to her, that's why she desperately wants to confide in Annabel, that's why her affection seems familiar.

As if that were not enough, Annabel has that ring on her. Not only has Lenore just been hit by the reality of her own feelings, she has just realized that her love is reciprocated, this is not a one-sided crush, they are going to get married. Suddenly, these invasions of her personal space are understood for what they were: an attempt to have a physical relationship on the terms one would have with a romantic partner. Because Annabel was not her friend.

She was her fiancée.

Also, because Lenore is too pure a cinnamon roll for the world, she must be wondering how much she hurt Annabel with this: how she dodged her attempts to show affection, how she doubted her, and, the icing on the cake, that comment:

And all this mental cocoa is perfectly condensed into the expression she has in these two vignettes.

Honestly, the scene is perfect as it is, with no dialogue, but you can almost hear her thinking, "I…I did…I told my fiancée we're friends, blaze".

[mysteryshoptls]

R Ace Trappola - Tsumsitter Voice Lines

Tsumsitter Ace does not have a vignette.

Summon Line: What's with all that smirking? Oh, you think it's funny this tsum looks like me, huh... Ever think that maaaaybe it might not just be someone else's problem to laugh about for long?

Groooovy!!: Even with your tiny little hands you're not that bad at magic tricks, Tsum. Still got a ways to go on your techniques, though

Home: Yeah, yeah, keep a lid on it, tsum.

Home Idle 1: Hey, tsum, stop tryin' to climb my basketball. I can't practice my shooting at all.

Home Idle 2: The tsum came to Ramshackle again? Ooh, hey, your dorm's pretty empty, right? Soooo, can'tcha just let it stay there?

Home Idle 3: Tsum, you better not even think about gettin' cheeky with Vil-senpai. He'll wring you and hang you out to dry... And I'll probably get dragged into it somehow, too!

Home Idle - Login: Hey, don'tcha think this tsum's a bit too sassy? I take my eyes off it for one second, and it's just off doin' whatever. Sometimes it just doesn't even listen to a word I say... I don't wanna keep lookin' after this thing.

Home Tap 1: The tsum's actually pretty handy when it comes to putting dishes away. I guess when it comes to things like that, we're pretty similar.

Home Tap 2: Looks like Trey-senpai and his tsum're getting along real swell... Ughhh, maaaan. I wish I had a low maintenance tsum too!

Home Tap 3: Maybe it's just me, but I feel like Jamil-senpai's tsum is really keepin' an eye on everything that's going on around it. Really feels like I'm being watched.

Home Tap 4: Was the Headmage actually looking into how to deal with these tsums? I bet he was just thinkin' he'd hoist them onto us whenever they'd show up.

Home Tap 5: Sure, you can look after the tsum, but you better not ever let go of it. This little guy's real cunning, so it's a huuuge pain to try'n catch it.

Requested by @thelonepearl.

[effortandmore]

isn't this more beautiful | knj x f!reader

summary: you meet namjoon by accident. you fall for him without noticing. he slips in and out of your life at will, and you let him. but as you get closer, you start to wonder if he’ll always feel lonely, even with you by his side. or, a small story told out of order about time, loneliness, and knowing (or not) what we deserve

pairing: namjoon x f!reader

rating: explicit (18+ please)

genre: smut, angst, a lil fluff/hopeful ending

au: this is idolverse

warnings/tags: this is told asynchronously, so please know these little vignettes are not in chronological order. namjoon is a mess, but so is reader. she's an artist so there's one cliche on board already. they probably should talk more about important things but neither of them like feelings. smoking, drinking, smut, including unprotected sex, oral sex, exhibitionism, maybe like… mention of belly bulge kink, cumplay (kind of)

word count: ~6700

a/n: this is for the bts x beatles across the btuniverse collab hosted by my dearest @ugh-yoongi who also checked this for vibes. so did @the-boy-meets-evil in its early stages - thank you both!! banner + borders from @hobeemin (thank you so much!!!!). my member was namjoon (obv) and my song was eleanor rigby. idk how it really shows up in here except through vibes lol

you can find everything i write on ao3

Namjoon talks in unanswerable questions. He calls you at hours the owls don’t even see, talks quietly even though you’re not sure who he’s afraid of disturbing.

“Do you remember Bageundae?”

“Of course I do.”

“If you pressed your body against one side of the rock, and I pressed mine to the other, could you feel me?”

What you want to say: go to sleep, Namjoonie.

What you say instead: “I can always feel you.”

“Always is a funny word,” he replies. “Maybe worse than never.”

“Maybe?”

“You never know,” he says, and you can hear the sad smile he wears even from your desk across the ocean. 

Sometimes, when people give the retelling of how they meet their “person,” it’s all sparks and fireworks and floods and worlds being turned upside down. 

That’s not how you met Namjoon. 

You met him softly.

You met him in a lazy river current and not a waterfall.

You met him like Sunday morning sunshine sneaking through cracks in defeated curtains.

You met him and the woodwind orchestra blew a quiet processional before the brass joined in much later.

You met him with a whisper. Literally. 

“This is one of my favorites,” he said, a stranger whispering beside you. He wasn’t even talking to you—you remember being pretty sure about that. Just announcing it as an affirmation to himself and you happened to be there to be the unintentional recipient. 

Now, you know it’s probably a foreshadowing of your whole relationship. 

Then, you said, “It’s a misconception that you have to whisper in a museum. It’s not a library.” 

Namjoon didn’t even give you the sitcom satisfaction of arguing with you about it. Just gave you an affronted side eye and huffed under his breath. Crossed his arms over his chest and planted himself further into the floor, staring at the Chung Sang Hwa in front of you. 

To yourself, you rolled your eyes. It was almost like he was determined to outwait you, that there would be some satisfaction in it for him if you left for the next work on the wall before he did. 

He didn’t know (yet) that you were as or more stubborn than he was. So, you both waited. You didn’t even know what you were waiting for, just that neither of you wanted to lose. 

(And now look at you.)

It was near closing time on a weekday, and all of the special exhibits were crowded earlier, but the permanent collections were easy to be alone in. You were almost wishing someone else would walk in. Minutes passed, neither of you moved. In your periphery, you saw Namjoon stealing glances at you when he (presumably) thought you wouldn’t notice. 

Finally, “This isn’t going to be some naver post later, is it?” 

You were annoyed, not blind. You knew exactly who he was (or did you, you wonder now)—everyone in this country knew, his picture plastered over billboards and bus stops. 

“Which story? BTS RM, weirdly stubborn art jerk, won’t walk away from painting first? Or, BTS RM casually checked me out at a gallery when he thought I wasn’t looking?” You didn’t look over at him, just raised your eyebrow in a challenge. 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” 

“So, you prefer the ‘jerk’ narrative?”

“I prefer to be left alone.” 

And you still don’t know why you said what you said after that, as you turned to face him for the first time since he walked up next to you. “You probably don’t get that very often. Alone time.”

Namjoon looked back at you then, and it still wasn’t butterflies or choruses of angels. Instead, he just looked surprised and a little sad. “I don’t.” 

“I’m sorry,” you replied. And you found that you meant it.

“Do you ever wonder,” Namjoon said, and again, you didn’t know if it was to you or to himself, “how it is you can be surrounded by people and still feel profoundly lonely?”

You hadn’t. But you still thought you understood what he meant. “No, but it makes sense that you would.”

Namjoon laughed then, maybe a little bitter, maybe just nervous. “I shouldn’t be talking to you about this,” he said. 

“And yet…”

“And yet,” he agreed with a small nod. 

The two of you were quiet again then, but not in a stand-off anymore. Behind you, you knew his manager was fidgeting, worrying that something was off. That you’d reveal yourself to be some sort of wild stalker or obsessed fan. 

“It’s not personal,” Namjoon offered, like he could already read your mind. 

“I know,” you conceded. 

You started to walk away, ready to see a different painting, ready to not feel like you were doing something wrong by incidentally being in the same room as someone famous, when Namjoon stopped you. “He wanted to paint heartbeats, to give them a language, to let people see what all the emotions that fuel our hearts would look like,” he said. “Do you think it worked?”

Next to this person that you didn’t know but somehow you thought you might understand anyway, you nodded.

Next to Namjoon in a room so quiet you were sure you could hear the steady thrum of your heartbeat (or his, or both beating at the same time), you nodded.

Next to him, who you didn’t yet know would become Him, you nodded.

“Yeah,” you said gracelessly. 

“Can you see it?” Namjoon asked. 

“Which one?” you countered.

He shrugged, not breaking eye contact. “Aren’t love and hate and pain and pleasure all the same at the end of the day?”

Eventually, he will teach you that they are.

It starts with phone calls.

(Sometimes it seems it might end with one, too.)

Namjoon speaks like the shallow pools of blended color on a painter’s well-loved palate. There is no certainty. He uses gray words like “sometimes,” and purple ones like “maybe,” and the soft peach “don’t you think?” 

“Morning, Namjoon-ssi,” you hum into the air, hoping you’re close enough to the microphone that you don’t have to shout. 

“What if we were in Florence?” he asks in return. 

“Then I would still be asleep, or you would be getting smothered with a pillow for waking me up.”

He laughs, not the bright one you know he saves for when there’s an audience, but a small one that bubbles up from his chest with a deep timbre. “So, in Florence, you and I are in bed together?” 

You sigh into your (not Italian) pillow. 

“Good morning,” he adds. “Can we speak informally?”

Your sigh turns into a smile you hadn’t asked for. “Yeah.”

“Good.” 

You’ve been speaking for weeks. Namjoon is busy, you are not (at least, not in the same way, not to the same magnitude). You make a space for him in your life with much less consideration than you usually use with others. Or, maybe he just takes it. 

“What are your plans for the weekend?” he asks. 

“Same thing as all the other weekends.” 

“Can I watch this time?” 

“It’s boring.” 

Namjoon pauses. “Does it bore you?” 

“No, it’s what I love.” 

“Then,” he says, in what you think is probably his typical fashion (at least with you, it is), “I think I might find it easy to love, too.” 

“Oh, Namjoonie,” you tease, “I’m starting to think you find everything easy to love.” 

He doesn’t say anything for a long time. This is a thing you’ve noticed about him. He’s serious in a flash. He’s jokes and teasing and talking to you about what ifs and what nots until suddenly he is very determined that he should say something meaningful. Or very convinced that you have. 

“I want to,” he says. “I want my heart to be more full than my mind. It’s hard.” 

“I know,” you say, even though for you, it’s not. 

“I’m glad you don’t,” he says earnestly.

“Come see me on Saturday,” you say, deflecting. You can do this for him, you think. You haven’t seen him since the museum, but you’ve seen the pastel splashes of his words, the geometric lines of his heart, the post-modern dilemma he thinks he carries down deep. You’ve seen the important things, so you know you can give him the distraction he doesn’t know he needs. 

“I think I will.” 

You hang up in black and white. 

Namjoon fucks like a surrealist. Shifts your body until you’re still recognizable in the mirror, but fundamentally different, too. 

Pulls your hips up too high: Ernst. 

Makes butterflies soar out of your mouth, gusty with your labored breath: Magritte. 

Fucks you cross-eyed, spit dripping hourglass slow from your lips: Dali. 

You thought he would be a talker, like he is on the phone. Thought he’d try and work through the freightliner of thoughts steaming through his brain. But Namjoon is all breath and whispers and sighs and moans and fragments of the pretty words he used to get you like this: bent over your worktable, chest smeared into cadmium red and titanium white. He talks, but it's oil paint instead of watercolor this time: thick and precise. 

“Fuck, you look perfect like this,” he says, voice a little dreamy, slapping another pink-paint handprint onto your ass. You’re never going to get it scrubbed off your skin.

It makes you laugh, breathy and high. 

You came first (and second) on his tongue. Told you to keep painting while he got underneath you, pretty on his knees, honest and plain telling you he wanted you.

“Want to see what art tastes like,” he said, cotton soft breath on your thigh. 

“Silly,” you replied. “Does anyone fall for lines like that?”

“Doesn’t matter, don’t want you to fall. I told you to keep standing.” He’s smug when he licks across your core, startling you. 

It went like that until your hand was shaking and the thick outlines around nameless figures on the canvas shook with you. 

“Pretty painter, taste as good as you look,” he paused to say. You moaned when he fucked his tongue into you, clenched around it, wanted to be greedy, wanted more, wanted everything. “Sound even better,” he added, chin slick, eyes sparkling. 

After you came, he didn’t stop. When your paintbrush fell to the ground, he doubled his efforts, two fingers sliding inside of you while he sucked your sensitive clit between his lips. “Come on, baby,” he said, “I know you have another one for me.” 

Your hand gripped his hair instead of your brush, you chased the overstimulation instead of wriggling away. It felt right, somehow, to just take what you want, and Namjoon didn’t seem to mind. Moaned into your cunt when you fucked his face, holding him in place while your hips moved. A muffled, “fuck, please baby,” into your skin when you pulled his hair just to see what it would feel like. Lips curved into a grin when you rocked against him through your second orgasm. 

And now, he reaps the benefits of his efforts. You’re pliant beneath him, fucked out and pleased, easy and eager as he slides his thick cock in and out. You watch him carefully in the mirror, you see his focus on where he thrusts inside of you, his awe when you clench around him and pull him just a little farther in. You see him grin when he slaps you, telling you he knows you’re watching, asking if you want more. “A greedy little thing,” he breathes. “Think you want more? Think you want me to fuck you harder, want my cock in you so deep you can feel it in your stomach?”

You feel stupid with it, nodding in agreement, mouth open and drooling onto your worktable while he fucks you to a third orgasm. 

“You fuck me so good. Such a big dick, gonna feel you all week, Namjoonah.” 

“You should paint this,” he says, slowing his thrusts. “No one’s ever looked as good as you do taking my cock.” 

“No one?” you ask, suddenly a little desperate for the praise.

Namjoon bends to kiss the back of your neck, lets his lips mark a pathway down your spine that his fingertips follow. He’s so deep inside of you, hips grinding slow against your skin. When he reaches your waist, he grips and pulls you into him even closer. 

The space between you (barely there to begin with) bends to his will: Carrington. 

“Nobody, baby,” he whispers his first certainty to you, fingertips teasing between your thighs now, careful where you’re still too sensitive, but wordlessly asking you to give in, to give more. 

“I’ll give you anything,” you say in response to a question you don’t think he’ll ask as he starts to circle your clit, pulls almost all the way out of you and fucks back in harder than before.

“You’ll take even more,” he says, and he comes inside of you, hips stuttering unsure, a bassline under the clear melody of his words. 

Lazy, you lie face up together on discarded canvas, forgotten starting points of ideas you hadn’t intended to complete. Unabashed, you have a knee up so your thighs don’t tack together with the mess you’ve made. Namjoon talks about nothing, blows smoke in halos above your heads and offers you the cigarette careful between his long fingers. You don’t smoke, but you hold it anyway, watching him, carding the fingers of your free hand through his hair as he stares at his cum leaking out of you, catches it on the tender part of your thigh and wipes swirls and squares onto the canvas around you. 

He finishes the thoughts you began before you even knew him.

“Tell me a story,” you whisper roughly into the air, hoping he can hear you through your shitty phone microphone. 

It’s early, that sacred pre-dawn you save for yourself (and now, somehow, for him)  and you’ve woken up from a shitty sleep and a worse dream and couldn’t stop yourself from calling him back when you saw you’d already missed a call from him. 

“It’s late, baby.” 

You let out a puff of breath, Namjoon laughs almost silently at you. 

“Please?”

“You don’t like books,” he says, almost a tease. It’s true. You like them conceptually, but you told him you don’t feel like you have the patience sometimes. That you want to give them energy you don’t have.

“But I like stories.” 

“FIne.” Even his sigh is fond. You like him like this so much—easy, willing, teasing but still giving in eventually. 

You fall asleep fast, the first words you hear are the last. “Once upon a time…” When you wake up, you have messages from him. A whole lot of them, a whole story written out in your Katalk chat. A love story, sort of, one where they’re star-crossed and destined but always just a little too far apart. It ends with a “maybe” instead of a “happily ever after.” You don’t even let yourself think about that too much—it’s perfectly him—a little drama for the sake of it, a little sadness to make the joy feel better.

Your world is tiny. A firefly in a sky full of bold, bright stars. It is you, in your studio, alone. It is you with your friends, it is you getting a cat so you have someone to talk to when your friends aren’t around. 

For Namjoon, it expands. A firefly to a star to a burning red giant. 

Still, it feels small when you’re inside of it. It’s you with your friends, it’s you with Namjoon in your studio, it’s Namjoon gently stroking your cat’s fur while he talks to himself and you paint. 

It’s difficult to describe, but when you’re with him, you either have his full attention to the extent it’s overwhelming, or he seemingly pays no attention to you or what you’re doing. Just works on whatever he’s working on while you paint, speaking to you because he knows you won’t answer. 

On one of the nights when you’re together (but not at all), you finally ask. He’d let himself in around two in the morning and kissed the top of your head before he put headphones in and stuck his face into his notebook on the other side of the room. He likes to sit by the window so he can crack it open and blow his smoke out of it instead of into the room. 

“Why’d you come tonight?” 

“I wanted to be near you.” 

“I don’t think you’ve even looked at me.” It’s not an accusation, just an observation. You like that Namjoon will know the difference, you like that he’s hard to offend, and doesn't mind when you speak plainly. Gives you plain answers in return (usually). You stick the small paint brush you’ve been using sideways in your mouth and grab a larger one.

“Baby, you’re all I can see lately,” he says, staring at the trails of smoke curling around the outside of the window pane. 

You laugh around the red-tipped paint brush you’re biting down on, a pause for the cadmium to add a little white to the edges. Namjoon looks over then, snaps a picture of you with your eyes crinkled and your head thrown back, red oil threatening to drip like blood. 

“Beautiful,” he says, looking at the picture before he goes back to writing.

There are more phone calls every time he travels for work. It’s the same routine. He texts you a photo of something he’s seen that he liked, and when you respond, whether it’s five minutes later or five hours, he asks if he can call you. 

Sometimes they’re quiet, simple recountings of the things that have happened in his day or are about to happen in the next (timezone dependent), sometimes they’re ranting about the industry and the pressure and how he never thought about time until he realized he was running out of it. Sometimes he’s worked up in a different way, wants to see your face in pixelated halos while he comes on his own stomach, alone in a hotel room far away. 

All of this, you let him take. It’s not completely sacrificial, by any means. You like to hear him talk, better than any podcast you’ve ever heard. You like to know what he sees—he’s touched parts of the globe you could only dream about seeing. You like that he never makes it complicated. 

Never promises to take you there one day, never says he wishes you were with him.

You’ve been fucking in secret for a while when Namjoon wants you to meet his friends. 

“Why?” you ask. 

“Because I want you to see me, too,” he says. Simple and complicated at the same time. You’re afraid to ask why again, not sure if you want to know the answer. This is sex. It’s incredible sex that happens far more often than you thought he’d be able to make time for. 

He shows up at your studio at odd hours of the morning (or is it still night?) and talks to you about all the frivolous things while you take each other apart. Rambles about Murakami while he fucks you, tells you about a Youngkuk he saw while you swallow his dick. Naked and sprawled amongst your paint and mess and half-done work leaning against the walls, he tells you a little about his work, too. Asks you about a painting he’d seen you working on—diligently adding splashes of blue, tells you about a song he wants to do the same thing to somehow. Asks you uselessly if color and sound are the same thing if you think about them too hard.

They are. It’s a thing you both know that you don’t think many others do. It’s one thing he’s sure about. You think he only likes you because you’re sure about it, too. 

It’s incredible sex and pretty good conversations that happen at what most people probably think are strange times, but it’s not more than that. You can’t afford to get your heart confused, and he can’t afford to give you anything other than exactly what he’s giving. 

(He can’t afford to give you what he does, but he tells you there’s no reward without risk. 

“Am I the reward, then?” you tease. 

Namjoon never answers you.)

But you don’t tell him no. You think this is a bargain you can make with your heart, you can ask it for temperance while you do this thing he wants, you can meet the people who are truly important to him without convincing yourself you’re counted amongst them. You can try, anyway.

So, on a rooftop in Hannam-dong, you sip whisky with a photographer friend of Namjoon’s while he stands behind you, an arm wrapped around your waist, and alternates between sucking bruises into your neck and smoke into his lungs. 

“How’d you meet?” the photographer asks. 

“Hoam,” Namjoon replies into your skin. “She picked a fight.”

You laugh, he laughs, the photographer laughs. It’s carefree and light—your laugh, your thoughts, your skin under Namjoon’s wandering lips. Your heart is holding up its end of the deal, you don’t feel anything but pleased to be there, pleased to have his attention again (still). 

“Our Namjoonie likes a challenge,” his friend says. 

“Our Namjoonie is a challenge,” you tease.

Namjoon nips at the thin skin between your neck and shoulder in retaliation (or to prove your point, you’re not sure). You yelp, turn in his arms, see him smirking before he goes to take another drag. Swiftly, you pluck the cigarette out from between his lips, stamping it out on the cement. 

“Baby,” he whines, looking down where the cigarette is brown and white dust under your sneaker. 

“Better things to do with your mouth,” you retort, pressing up onto your tiptoes and pulling his bottom lip between your teeth. 

His mouth is ashy and yours tastes like peet, you’re sure. It’s filthy and a little cheap even though the cigarettes and the whisky and the lip balm he always wears were all expensive. Namjoon kisses like he does everything else: completely single-minded, treating the soft curves where your mouths meet as if they’re the edges of the world. 

You walk him a step back until he’s flush against the wall and lean into him again, pressing your bodies together hard and your lips together plush. He’s hard in his joggers and it’s every last piece of self-control you have to not sneak your hand under his waistband and tease him until he’s leaking and begging to get inside you. 

It wouldn’t take much. 

Takes a lot out of you to not drop to your knees and choke on his cock where everyone can see, where everyone would know for sure for sure for certain that he’s chosen you for this for now for some reason. To not make him moan around your name while he comes down your throat, a different kind of concert. 

Your hands stay in appropriate places while your lips beg for more. 

He was right, something he said the first time you hooked up: you are greedy for him. But he’s just as bad for you, begging in your ear for you to let him take you home, for you to let him fuck you right here so everyone knows you’re his (right now, in only this way, for some reason that neither of you are willing to speak into existence). 

You give in, no cares about who sees, it’s safe here with friends who would never betray him. You feel ever weightless against his body, whispering, “Yes, come on Joonie,” you say. “Need your cock. Need you.” 

(Briefly, it occurs to you that those sentences mean two completely different things, that they’re both true, and that either it’s Namjoon choosing to ignore the odd, heavy weight of the second one or you both are.)

You’re halfway out the door before you remember you were in the middle of a conversation. 

You don’t notice his friends whispering. 

You don’t notice his manager rolling his eyes. 

You don’t notice the way Namjoon looks at you when he knows you’re not looking back.

And you surely don’t let yourself notice that both of you want more than you’re willing to give in return.

“Can you come over?” he asks, but it doesn’t quite come out like a question. 

“I’m working, maybe a different time?” 

It’s abundantly clear he hadn’t expected you to say no. He’s silent on the other end of the line for a moment before he lets out an aborted sigh. 

“You can work whenever you want.”

Before you realize he’s serious, you laugh. “Yeah, and now is when I want to. You know how it is to get inspired.” 

Namjoon huffs. “I’d still make time for you.” 

It’s almost more absurd than the sentence before it. First, you know from firsthand experience that he wouldn’t, not really. Your “relationship”—or whatever you’re (not) calling it—revolves almost entirely around his schedule. And that’s fine with you, usually. It was expected, anyway. You don’t exactly drop everything to see him, but you haven’t been the best at keeping plans with the other people in your life, either. You don’t blame him for it, it’s just how things are, and it’s your own fault (at least partially) for bailing on your friends to “chase dick” as they so delicately put it. The second point is that you wouldn’t ask him to. If you don’t ask him to change for you, if you don’t need him to bend, then you never have to stop to ask yourself what the two of you are even doing. 

As the static of the connection is drawn out like a fermata with neither of you willing to break it, you wonder if this is your panoply, the armor you don, one of the ways you’ve been protecting your own heart without realizing it. 

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” you say, repeating it to yourself, admitting it to him. 

“I know,” Namjoon agrees, but he sounds disappointed instead of conciliatory. 

“I have to go.” 

“Sure,” he says quietly before he ends the call. “Let me know when you have time.”

Namjoon is obsessed with time. 

How much is left. 

How much has passed. 

How much until the next thing. 

How much he’s wasted. 

You think this is because he puts a deadline to his regret, says things like, “It’s been a year, I can’t worry about it anymore.” 

It’s hard not to wonder what schedule he’s given whatever this thing is between you. Are you still regrettable? Is there a space between regrettable and forgettable you can build shelter in? 

It makes him fill his time. He’s always doing something, likes to feel productive. Holds himself to an unspoken standard that you’re not even sure he could articulate if he needed to. He gets antsy when he has to relax, twitches and fidgets and fills the space with words. 

Sometimes, after sex when you’re quiet and lax and content to just sit with him, he uses the time to write. He sits tall up in your bed and holds his notebook above your head where it rests in his lap. He says you help him organize his thoughts, says having you to bounce things off of gives him clarity, says you think of words like colors like he does and you know how he likes to paint. Says he gets his best work done in this time in between pleasure and sleep. 

He hums to himself while he writes—you don’t even know if he knows he does it. Sometimes, it wakes you up from where you didn’t know you’d fallen asleep on top of him. 

“Is it morning yet?” you slur, still mostly asleep. 

“Relax, baby,” he whispers when you stir. “We’ve got time.” 

You don’t break up, because there’s nothing tangible to break. It’s a quiet thing, without dramatics, but oh how you grieve. 

It’s not linear. You’re not in a predictable pattern of feeling. One morning he doesn’t call, and you don’t even notice, but another makes you sob quietly in the corner of your studio, curled up under the window where he used to sit, like you can fuse yourself with the ghost of him. 

There are days when it’s easier, days when it’s difficult. When you mourn the way the curve of his bicep felt under your fingertips or the future you never considered until it wasn’t an option anymore. 

(You still don’t know if it ever was an option, but that’s the tricky thing—you can grieve for the things you had and also for those you didn’t. No one can stop you, Namjoon’s not there to pull you back to reality. He was never very good at that anyway.)

Some days, you wonder if he grieves, too. It would be easy to read interviews and read into things, it would be easy to assume every word, look, gesture is a window into his mind, but you try not to do that to yourself, try not to do it to him. 

At four in the morning on a Saturday, when days without him have long turned into weeks, you mindlessly scroll through your phone, idly wondering what he might be doing at this time when he used to be with you.

“The quiet hours are all for us,” he would whisper into your skin, no distractions, no demands. 

Those hours are infinitely louder in your mind without him there. So, you distract yourself, you look at every app and you get lost in reels and tiktoks and tweets and then you go back to instagram to see his story is updated. And you think twice before you do it, but you still click on it, curious and heartbroken and a little bit hoping he’s not already found someone new to spend daybreak with. 

It’s just a song, an old one, a sad one. Text he added in small font across the bottom: 

“Grief is love persevering,” he says.

In your corner, under the window, you cry over the silly quote for the both of you.

“Do you know about alpine sunflowers?” 

You laugh as you put your phone on speaker and set it down next to you. You’re not laughing at him, and he knows it—you’re full of a particular fondness you only feel for him, one you especially feel when he’s thousands of miles away, busier than busy and running on no sleep, but still calling you to bullshit. 

“No, tell me about them.” 

“Okay,” he says, voice pitched up, a little excited, like he’s sitting up straighter and getting ready to tell you something wonderful. “So, they only grow high up in the alpine tundra. The Swiss Alps, the Rockies, you know what I mean?” 

“What about the French Alps?” you tease.

Namjoon huffs. “There too, jagiya, but you’re missing the point.” 

“Okay, make me see it, then.” 

“I will if you’ll stop teasing.” 

You do stop, not because he’s making an impeccable argument, but because he’s always going somewhere with things like this, and without realizing it, you’ve stumbled into a reality where you’d follow him anywhere. 

“They grow slowly. ‘Cause of the snow and the subzero temperatures and the fact that there’s just not much up there for them. They take their time, you see?”

You’re starting to, your paintbrush dipping into a dusty yellow to test in a small corner of your canvas. You nod, forgetting he’s not there in the room with you, that you should speak if you actually want to answer him. He doesn’t care if you do or not, you know, not until he gets to the punchline, and sometimes not even then. 

On the other end of the line, you hear him suck in a breath before he continues. “They save up everything: the sunlight and the water and they hoard it all. They're selfish little things, baby. Just these spindly stalks of nothing sucking up everything good out of the Earth.”

“Hmm,” you murmur so he knows you’re with him. 

“But then, and this is the best part, then one day, after ten fucking years if you can believe that—after ten years do you know what happens?”

“Climate change?”

Namjoon ignores you now in favor of finishing his story. It’s fair enough, you suppose. “They bloom. Big and beautiful, brighter than all the other sunflowers like an explosion of little suns across the mountains.”

“That sounds beautiful,” you reply. 

And you know what Namjoon is thinking. That their beauty comes at a cost, that he hasn’t quite untangled yet whether he loves those stupid flowers for taking what they need and becoming something incredible or if he despises them for waiting so long to do it, for keeping something so lovely to themselves. It’s not what he says, though. As you paint something that might be tangling green vines of selfish sunflowers across gesso, he surprises you. 

“I wonder if in all relationships, someone is the sunflower and someone is the mountain.”

You can’t help but pause, because he might be right. One of you might take something from the other to become more beautiful, one of you might give up everything to be made more whole by the other, if even for a moment. 

“Maybe they are,” you agree. 

“You know what happens after the alpine sunflower blooms?” he asks, voice softer now, more tired as night turns into morning where he is. 

“What happens, Joon-ah?”

Namjoon sighs into the phone, the mood has changed since he called you—and this isn’t unusual. He can be ebullient and he’s gorgeous when he’s happy and carefree, but it changes quickly sometimes depending on the circumstances, depending on how much he’s let himself think, how much time he’s spent alone. 

“They die. They do all of that and they work hard for so long, and then they’re gone.” 

Carefully, you ask, “You want to be the mountain, then?” 

In the background, you can hear the rustle of sheets and the careful clacking of his glasses hitting the bedside table. He yawns, and you can picture the way he’s rubbing his palms over his face, pulling his shirt off before he dives all the way under the duvet, probably taking advantage of being alone to take up all the space he possibly can in the big hotel bed. He sounds half-asleep and sad when he finally answers you. 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

“Why not?” You put your brush down, stare at the small mess you’ve made. 

“The mountain has it worse, she can only watch them go.”

He is everywhere, even when he’s not. 

There are the obvious things: the ads with his face, the gum and coffee and candy with his picture on them, the music, his lyrics, playing in cafes and bars and pages and pages of his songs in every noraebang. 

There are the private things, too. The reminders that are just for you.

You see him in the way the leaves change: reliable but not predictable. 

You smell him after it rains, when you pass by cafes and smoking rooms and when you take the train to Yeosu just to remember the way the saltwater can make the air sting. You hear him every time you hear the train sail into the station at Yongsan and when you hear the river gently shove against its banks. 

It’s a couple months after you meet him, and along that river, you walk a less-loved path. With all the words you know, you explain all that to a friend, one you’ve known a long time, who doesn’t know who you’re talking about as you try to describe the person who’s taken up all of your time and attention lately. 

Because you can’t tell her anything about him, you tell her these things instead and you hope it’s enough for her to understand. 

And maybe she does, maybe better than you do. 

“Does that make sense?” you ask. “It’s hard to explain how much he is.” 

“To you,” she says. “He’s that much to you.” 

You hadn’t even considered that he wasn’t all of those things to everyone. It never even crossed your mind. It’s probably apparent that you’re mulling it over, trying to true it up with how you feel. 

She shrugs with one shoulder and smiles, brings a finger up to smooth the wrinkle in your brow.  “Don’t think about it too hard, yeah? Love is supposed to be simple.” 

Those two words had always each seemed so big to you, to carry so much power on their own. It’s the first time you let yourself consider putting the words Namjoon and Love in the same sentence. 

And in that moment, you know that if Namjoon is the changing leaf, you are the one that falls.

“Do you love me?” you ask—afraid to know the answer, more afraid of never knowing. You stare at unfinished bunches of sunflowers and handprints of pink and white borders that never got filled in. All of it undone, all of it paused. Abstracts in stop-motion waiting for… him to come back? You to get your shit together? Inspiration? What’s the difference, anyway, you think while you wait for him to speak. 

He doesn’t answer right away, hums a little, clicks his tongue, things you can sense more than you can hear. It’s a rude way to start a phone call, especially when you haven’t spoken in a long time, especially when you’re not each other's to love. 

Not anymore. 

Not that you know if you ever were. 

You need to know, you think. Questioning whether all of it even mattered is making you worse off than thinking it didn’t. Listening to him tell foreign interviewers he’s had a rough year, lost something great, was finding it hard to trust—himself, others—you, your brain supplies… it’s making you feel a little wild, a little reckless. 

One drink past good decisions, you call, and when he answers unexpectedly, you forgo “hello” for “do you love me?” 

You wait, expecting exasperation, complication, maybe a long and drawn out description of how maybe people can never know if they’re in love, if they have the capacity to love completely. 

And then he surprises you. 

“Of course I do,” he says, sounding soft and a little scared and more definitive than you’ve ever heard him. “You know that.” 

“I didn’t,” you reply. Not to be argumentative, but because it’s true. Because you love him and you want him to be happy and you know he’ll never get it right if he thinks what he gave you was enough. 

“I don’t think I knew then, either,” he concedes. “But I wish I had. I do now.” 

“I miss you.” 

“I know. But you did then, too.” 

The laugh you let out is wry and wet with your tears, the ones you’re shedding for the you that did miss him even then, even when he was by your side, even when he was buried inside of you. “I’m lonely,” is what you say, too honest. 

“I know. I am, too.” 

There’s nothing to say to that, you think. Maybe this is where it really ends, a torn-open wound for both of you—you’ll paint it all in vivid acrylics, probably never finish it just to be ironic. And then Namjoon adds, “Can I come over?”

You reply quickly, a taste of his own medicine. “Maybe,” you say. 

You should have never left, you mean. 

He laughs then, watercolor yellow and orange joy dripping over the phone line. It’s bright and hopeful—you listen to him shrugging on a jacket and swearing out a curse when he runs into his dresser, rushing to get to you, scrambling for time—and it makes you decide that for once, with him by your side, you might finish the picture.

[prince-kallisto]

Vil, Meleanor, and the Virgin Mary: Crowley’s Obsession

I haven’t seen anyone talk about this, but it’s driving me insane: Vil and Meleanor’s design parallel each other SO MUCH that it’s not even funny. In fact, I think Vil is foreshadowing EVERYTHING about Meleanor’s fate and Crowley’s plans.

I know I’m just coping lol, but I think I finally figured out why Crowley is so obsessed with the Fairest Queen and Pomefiore if he was Levan. Here me out: Vil is the representation of Meleanor.

Vil’s Overblot form is what immediately caught my attention. The way his cape connects to his hands, the night sky on his cape, the corset and the gems. The way the edges of his dress looks like old, torn paper, like history long since forgotten. Not to mention how he has claws like Crowley and is wearing Crowley’s same exact shade of blue. Just…this entire silhouette with the sleeves and crown matches Meleanor more than Malleus’s Overblot does. Strange how both Vil and Meleanor are associated with stars, when Crowley has a lot of star designs on the curtains in his office.

In his dorm uniform, look how the gloves and the lace has a similar design as Meleanor’s. Not to mention how in this vignette, Vil is like a “Queen reborn” with “two knights” at his side. Hm?? Like Meleanor with Lilia and Baul, perhaps?

Something I’ve always found strange is how much Crowley dotes on Vil. In both his history and flight lessons, Vil comments a lot on Crowley when a Special Lesson is triggered. Doesn’t it feel…almost uncomfortable??? Vil feeling “eyes” on him specifically when Crowley is there. And there isn’t clarification if Vil is speaking to Yuu or Crowley, but when he says “I’m just fine,” it makes me wonder if Crowley was asking Vil how he was doing.

This isn’t just limited to the lessons. Although Crowley played a less significant role in Book 5 than I thought he would, doesn’t he sound very affectionate when he says this?? “What I’ve always taken you for”…he holds great pride in Vil and how represents the history and beauty of Pomefiore. Crowley has NEVER shown this much of a bias towards any student before. Only Vil.

I can hear some of you asking: Why in the world would Crowley/Levan care so much about Vil if MALLEUS and DIASOMNIA exists? Here’s the thing: Vil simply represents more of who Meleanor was as an evil, proud princess.

He is proud, he is beautiful, he truly understands the power of his beauty, how to make people submit to him with harsh truths. He has a certain charm and pride in his accomplishments that Malleus doesn’t.

But what REALLY got me was the religious symbolism in Vil’s Overblot form. @pianostarinwonderland made a really amazing post on the resemblances Vil has to the Virgin Mary and the Lady of Sorrows.

The Lady of Sorrows is another “form” of the Virgin Mary- which ironically enough, is depicted with SEVEN swords piercing her HEART. Sometimes she is depicted with only one sword- more on that later. The Virgin Mary is considered to be the holiest of saints- a figure of worship. She is also considered to be the “god-bearer.” Her death is referred to as the Dormition of the Mother of God, Aka the “falling asleep of the god-bearer.”

And back to the swords in her heart, the seven swords represent the Seven Sorrows, but the singular sword represents the Prophecy of Simeon.

The prophecy of Simeon said something like Mary’s child would be the RISE and FALL of many in Israel, and that a sword would pierce through Mary’s heart too, as an allusion to the crucifixion. Because Mary would suffer alongside her son, the one curse of motherhood. Stars are also significant in Christian mythology, like the star of Bethlehem to guide the wise men to the birthplace of Mary’s child. Another significant “star” is the Morning Star, Aka Lucifer. The Morning Star title is based off Venus, whose Greek name means “the light bringer” or “the DAWN bringer.”

If all of these things I’m saying reminds you about the imagery in TWST, I feel like this is purposeful! Lets back up and go over each of these points and how it relates to TWST (I am not religious, so if any of this is inaccurate, please let me know!)

Crowley in the opening seems to worship his “benefactor,” and I’ve been theorizing that it’s Meleanor whose trapped in the Dark Mirror. She is quite literally a figure of worship to him- the holiest of saints. And with Meleanor being the mother of Malleus, who is one of the most powerful mages in the world, doesn’t it sound similar to be a “god-bearer?”

The swords through her heart not only sounds like a connection to Meleanor’s death, but to Maleficent’s too. The sword of truth piercing her heart- but not only that, Vil’s Overblot crown LITERALLY has the design of a singular sword piercing through a heart. Yes, its a representation of the Evil Queen demanding Snow Whites heart, but why is Vil’s design combined with the Virgin Mary of all figures??

I bolded “prophecy” because I think Levan is heavily connected to prophetic powers, but doesn’t this prophecy sound A LOT like Meleanor’s blessing on Malleus? Malleus would be the benevolent star to the Fae, and an evil star to humankind. Like the Star of Bethlehem for the Fae, and the Morning Star for humans…and the Morning Star is heavily connected to the DAWN. Dawn Knight? Silver???

It doesn’t help that Dragon Fae seem to be ostracized by humans for their horns. Maleficent in Sleeping Beauty though, refers to her powers as “powers of Hell,” heavily leaning toward his demon like design.

Meleanor suffered to protect Malleus. She gave him up and fought an entire army to better his chances of survival because she loved him so much. And if Meleanor is trapped in the mirror and will be brought back to “life,” all of this suffering stemmed from the fact she sacrificed herself for Malleus.

SNDJDHSJSJDJD STOP IT TWST WHY DOES THIS ALL FIT TOGETHER SO WELL????? YANAAAAA HELP

But do you see what I mean on how I think Vil is slyly foreshadowing EVERYTHING? Not only that, but look at his Overblot design again. At his waist, there are sharp crystal-looking objects surrounding him. I think these represent broken mirror shards. This, combined with all the coffin imagery at NRC, Epel’s Unique Magic, and Malleus’s making everyone fall asleep like Aurora or Snow White…

Perhaps Meleanor really is trapped in the mirror, put in a death-like sleep…but one day she will be freed, like Aurora or Snow White with the power of true loves kiss. Until then, Vil is the closest representation of her to Crowley. Someone who understands the power of beauty to make others submit, someone to worship.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi , miss Raven

Their is something has been on my mind for while ;

In rook suitor suit vignette he Compose a flattering poem about Crowley

While Ace and Epel was talking about how rook would compliment anyone , rook insisted that he mean every word he say .

And there's this specific weird line

"if it weren't for your presence , I wouldn't be here"

Like what do you mean?????!!

Do you think this line is hinting at the fact that rook didn't join NRC via traditional way or he wasn't chosen by the dark mirror , since he is one of the light trio

Or To the fact that he transferred to another dorm smoothly without any problem?

For some reason I started suspecting rook recently 😭

The fact he was one of the reason vil overbloted by convincing him to watch neige performance and also he is the one who convinced vil to add Ace and deuce as part of VDC team while I thought lilia and cater was a better option

I would like to hear your opinion about it 👀

Ah, so if I'm understanding you correctly... You're theorizing that Rook might be an outside agent of some kind? One that Crowley intentionally brought into NRC to facilitate triggering overblots??

I’ll try to respond to one question at a time; hopefully this will make it easier to follow along! The post got quite long, so it's all below the cut~

Beginning with Rook’s poem, and, more specifically, “If it weren’t for your presence, I wouldn’t be here”. It’s funny that you mention this line, because when the vignette first came out (in JP; the terminology used is similar to “I would not exist/be here”), people interpreted it VERY literally. As in… “Rook is Crowley’s son because he literally could not be conceived without a father! They’re even both named after birds! They have to at least be blood related somehow!” Strange how in 2020, Crowley was suspected of being Rook’s father but now in 2024 Crowley’s being suspected of being Malleus’s father. The poor headmaster just can’t catch a break 😂

Personally, I don’t think that line is implying anything strange about Rook’s enrollment. As far as we know, he did not join NRC though any abnormal means, and nor did Silver. Of the “light trio” (a label that I must stress exists within the fandom but is not endorsed by TWST), only Kalim fits the bill. Kalim was originally homeschooled, but received an acceptance letter to NRC a month into the school year. Another month later, he transferred in. As far as we know, all students at NRC (save for Yuu and Grim) were chosen by the Mirror of Darkness, even the light trio. Again, I want to emphasize that TWST does not use “light trio” or a similar term to refer to or to characterize Kalim, Silverc and Rook. We’ve gotten no formal in-universe explanation as to why those three in particular have light cosmic magic instead of everyone else’s dark cosmic magic. (This is entirely separate from meta theories, which are out-of-universe explanations for why the “light trio” exists. The popular meta explanation is that it’s because Silver, Kalim, and Rook are not twisted from Disney villains but rather “good” characters like Aurora, the Sultan, and the Huntsman.)

On the subject of transferring dorms, the option is always on the table. We see mob students talk about transferring dorms as early as 1-14:

In 6-67 (part 20 with the Pomefiore group), Vil describes the transfer process as being tedious and involving a lot of “complicated paperwork and ceremonies”. Crowley also says the process is “burdensome” in 1-20, but this phrasing is quite vague and could mean any number of things. (Burdensome to whom, the staff or the students? Why exactly is it burdensome?) Overall, it seems like transferring dorms would take a long time and require various formalities, but not necessarily be full of problems.

As long as you’re dedicated and consistently complete what is asked of you to complete the process, transferring should be no issue. I don’t think it’s a given that you’d normally experience troubles in trying to transfer. It should be smooth by default (unless the student backs out, is uncooperative, and/or fails to complete the required steps). So following that logic, I don’t think the poem line is saying anything about Rook’s dorm transfer either.

While it’s true that Rook encourages Vil to watch Neige’s performance and advises that Vil pick Ace and Deuce for the VDC/SDC Tribe, I do not believe there was malicious intent behind these actions. It’s hinted throughout book 5 that Rook’s reasoning for doing these things was to help Vil recognize the value of his “beauty” is something he gains from himself, not from the approval of others.

This is most likely Rook’s motivation for suggesting Vil observe the competition or to consider freshmen for the team. It’s exposing Vil to the contentedness that can come with imperfection or not being at the very top, something Vil fails to recognize in himself until the end of book 5. Being as perceptive as he is, Rook would have realized that outright telling Vil the moral of the week would not sway his strong-willed friend’s mind. Thus, Rook devised a more roundabout plan and involved Yuu (who, at this point, has a reputation for settling dorm-wide disputes) and co. (unpolished and clumsy underclassmen that Vil could shape as well as potentially also learn from in a reciprocal manner). Maybe Lilia and Cater would have been more technically skilled, being members of a club band and all, but they wouldn’t have provided the same opportunity for growth that Yuu and Adeuce did.

Rook is someone who has always been portrayed as a supporter of Vil’s, a good friend and a trusted confidant. He does have a nefarious side and is 100% capable of deception (like the time in Endless Halloween Night when he quickened his heartbeat to convince Sebek he was also scared and therefore was not a traitor). However, I don’t think Rook would want to betray his friends by actively harming them and putting their lives in danger (both during book 5’s overblot and immediately after in book 6’s rescue mission); he truly cares for them and wants to see them happy and healthy. (One could argue he should have voted for NRC instead of RSA to help Vil achieve his dream instead of betraying him, but that’s another discussion entirely.)

There’s no reason why Rook would go out of his way to do innocuous things like helping Epel with his UM or imparting wisdom to Deuce unless he actually cared and wanted to see them develop. Beyond the scope of book 5, why would Rook do even more innocuous things like trying to make Epel feel welcome and assisting him with learning table manners? Why wouldn’t he go out of his way to provoke Vil more often? Did Crowley hypothetically have even all of these little details down and instruct Rook to do (or not do) these things??? It sounds too far-fetched to attach a hidden motive behind everything Rook says or does. It could be as simple as “he wants to be there to support his friends”.

Before we wrap up, I’d like to quickly touch on the suggestion that Silver and Kalim too were catalysts for Malleus and Jamil’s OBs, respectively. It’s true that they were, but I doubt Silver or Kalim were aware and did so intentionally. Both seemed genuinely ignorant as to the true stress that Malleus and Jamil were under, and Silver + Kalim do not present as toxic people who would want to inflame their friends’ negativity. Of course, there’s always the possibility that Puppet Master Crowley (™) is orchestrating everything from the shadows (but I’m not going to get into the “time loop to gather all the necessary information and learn what the correct choices are” theory here www). I just don’t think Rook is Crowley’s accomplice in all of this if the time loop + intention overblots theories overlap.

This is one of those instances where I see Rook as being very honest with his intentions and because of his… generally strange character (?), his peers and players alike still suspect there is a deeper meaning to his words. I interpret his poem as nothing more than waxing poetic to expressing gratitude to the one man that makes it possible for him to be at NRC as a student: Crowley. Rook states that he wanted to give an exemplary poem using a subject that both Ace and Epel were already familiar with, so he went with the headmaster. Furthermore, we know that Rook is able to witness many wonderful and beautiful things at NRC, as well as make meaningful relationships with interesting people like Vil. He would not be able to do any of these things were he not extended an invitation to NRC—and it is for this reason that it would make sense for him to genuinely be appreciative of Crowley.

Those are all my thoughts on this matter all for now ^^ Hope it was an interesting read!

[yuurei20]

Twisted Wonderland Fes 2023 Notes

(this is very stream of consciousness, based on notes taken during the event)

・After the livestream cut out there was a virtual concert: 3D animations of the characters performed Absolutely Beautiful and the Glorious Masquerade song

・Jamil and Kalim’s VAs held hands at the closing of the curtain so cute

・Before the livestream was an amazing, long-form version of Piece of My World. Longest version I have ever heard--it lasted throughout the entire time the VAs were appearing on stage and might have been specially composed for the event.

・The first part, pre-livestream, was a live script reading by all cast, split into two halves: the VAs for Riddle, Cater, Jack, Azul, Floyd, Kalim, Epel, Vil, Silver, Lilia performed a scene of making summer break plans to got to a beach together. The VAs for Ace, Trey, Deuce, Ruggie, Leona, Jade, Jamil, Rook, Ortho, Malleus, Sebek performed a scene of participating in a menu creation contest for the school cafeteria. Basically voiced vignettes, but instead of the characters, it was the VAs themselves, reading live in front of the audience. Really amazing.

・Then the livestream began, including a lot of Book 7 and Stitch event talk. Jamil’s VA Futaba insisted that Jamil has the coolest unique magic and so they held a vote, it was hilarious. They all have great chemistry and seemed to really enjoy it. The “what unique magic is coolest, snake whisper vs unleash beast vs Shock the heart vs silver’s unique magic” argument was hilarious. No one voted for Oasis Maker, Sebek’s VA voted for Silver’s, Jade's voted for Azul's.

・When idia’s VA have his video message all the VAs watched via little monitors on the end of the stage, but Ortho’s Aoi turned around in his chair to watch the big screen.

・When Jack did the in-game exam battle all the VAs got out of their chairs to turn around and sit on the floor to watch, but Ortho’s Aoi stood and did Ortho’s attack gestures along with the battle, it was adorable. Aoi had some great comments on Book 7, too. Lilia’s VA is very good at the battles and instructed Jack’s VA on how to get a good exams score.

・And the new info was all shared via livestream! The new birthday series will be redrawings of all the characters from the platinum suit series (same poses and everything, pre-groovy), new Halloween event is Pinocchio, an SSR platinum suit Grim is coming!

・They had Leona’s VA play the hydra game from Book 6.

・Malleus’ VA talked about Book 7 and how he feels bad for Malleus.

・Ortho’s Aoi had idia’s light ring and said “I brought my brother” when he did his introduction at the beginning. Most (if not all) of the VAs wore light rings for their character, and were dressed in colors reminiscent of their dorm.

・Kalim’s kept showing off his muscles and Jade’s VA thought he was hilarious. At least twice, Jade’s VA was doubled over laughing at whatever it was Kalim’s VA was doing, it was so funny, he could not keep it together.

・Vil’s VA said that there’s an older woman-voice version of the older man-voice recording that he made for book 6 and he didn’t know which one the director was going to go with until the game came out.

・Ortho’s VA shared ideas for gear for Ortho, such animals like a fox. And also shortcake gear that smells like cake.

[carlyraejepsans]

UT fic recs? For the poor and bad at fic searching

world comes pouring through - (1.6k words, Gen)

Alphys reunites with some old friends on the way home from taking care of business.

Really good Alphys character study. One of those fics you could slot into canon with next to no resistance.

White Crayon - (9k words, Gen)

Despite living in Snowdin for months, Papyrus still feels like an outsider. An invisible barrier stands between him and the sense of community he craves. His brother tells him to be patient, but Papyrus would rather take matters into his own hands. Sans tries his best to understand.

Pre-canon, pre confidence spike Papyrus centric. Good angst and bros miscommunicating. Struck a bit close to home tbh. Seeing Papyrus before his bravado might be a bit jarring, but the interactions between the brothers more than made up for it to me personally. I really, REALLY enjoyed the way Sans is written here. Biscia stamp of approval.

the whirlwind world of on-line e-love - (1k words, Gen)

“My idea! My amazing idea. It is very amazing. Has your kinglitudeness ever heard of—”

Papyrus paused, then beckoned Asgore close. When he drew near, bony phalanxes were cupped at his ear, and Papyrus said in a dramatic stage whisper: “Have you ever heard of dating?”

I'm not sure if the author is ever going to turn this into a full fledged story, but even as a vignette it is extremely fucking funny.

When Life Hands You Enantiomers - (2.7k words, T)

Alphys has a half-finished tile maze puzzle, reams of useless data, and a bunch of piranhas that can't tell the difference between lemon and orange scent.

Sans has donuts.

Can't believe i only just recently discovered this one. Some of the most well-written Sans and Alphys friendship shenanigans I've ever seen.

Welcome to Night Tale - (5.7k words, unrated)

Welcome to Night Vale.

Today's top story: a community of monsters have joined our town as our newest residents.

Probably my favorite crossover fic idea of all time. Formatted like a WTNV episode, has segments both with AND without the monsters. Marked as incomplete (I'm assuming the author wants to eventually add new vignettes) but the final chapter is a special segment about Chara, Frisk and Flowey that is so flooring and clever it ties the entire work together perfectly either way.

[rayroseu]

THE MAJESTIC EXCELLENCY HERSELF 😍😍😍😍💚💚💚💚 also maybe its just me but is it a reach to hope that an ACTUAL Disney villain can cameo in TWST?? 😆 You know like how Mickey randomly appears before us akjdkss

Also i find it interesting how Yuu immediately got up to go to the Maleficent Statue after concluding the dream as "Maleficent is being left out..." She reminded him of One Guy lol 😭 Also Yuu lore crumbs that theyre finally catching up that their dreams is related to the next overblot lol

ALSO AAAAAHHH SEBEKKKK 💚💚💚✨✨✨ I missed hearing his "human!!" FULLY VOICED✨✨✨ Haruki Ishiya san... thank you 😭💚💚💚

I love his attitude change LMFAO and Silver being the polite person he is insisting Sebek to apologize and Sebek just doesnt lol... SOBS... Also agree with Grim lol Diasomnia literally the most dramatic dorm lol

Also I find it so funny that "Malleus evil smile" expression is his Happiest Expression LMFOAOAOA He's thoroughly AMUSED by Yuu calling him Hornton in front of Sebek (of all people) without hesitance 😭😭

Ohhh Malleus loves chaos alright ✅✅✅💥💥 and his family and friends getting along...😭😭💕💕💕

Also the part where the npcs talked about him broke my heart aughh...

He's just talking with his classmates and everyone is already whispering how "he shouldn't be in this school he's going to curse everyone" (OKAY maybe theyre going to be right about that in a few more updates butksjdjs) But aaa knowing the fact he has superb hearing skills.... I like to imagine he's hearing these rumors while talking to Yuu and the knights but he's just ignoring the rumors since there's a few peopke who are treating him like a normal person right now 😭😭

I LOVE HOW THIS IMPLIES LILIA RELIES ON SILVER THE MOST TOO!!! He couldve asked Sebek or Malleus since theyre the people with no sleep problems... but nooo he insisted on Silver waking him up!! AUDGAUHS I thought he's a general who focuses on efficiency... 😭😭 He just wants Silver to wake him up... i know you lilia 🔍🔍🔍🤨🤨

I am in good pain... considering!! in Book 7!! Lilia repeatedly appears to be a reliance for Silver whenever he feels hopeless... I CANT. Lilia is just like more lowkey about how much he actually relies on his son 😭😭💚💚

ROOK BEING IN THE RUINS TOO IS SO FUNNY LFMAOOO THATS ONE OF MALLEUS' TOP INTERSHIP LIST??? ITS LILIA'S P.E VIGNETTE ALL OVER AGAIN LMFOAOAA HE'S GONNA HARASS MALLEUS DOWN IF THEYRE COWORKERS AHFHAHDHA

Imagine them in the ruins and finally Malleus has someone who is enthusiastic about ""boring facts about Gargoyles and Abandoned Ruins"" but its just... got to be THIS GUY Rook Hunt... who once tried to playfully harm Lilia lol

Malleus and Rook Duo is actually so funny though 😂😂 It still cracks me up that Malleus was once invited on Rooks Bday but he didnt attend cuz he's annoying to him and most notably Rook is not even hostile to him??? He just didnt attend bcs he hates his guts omg😭😭💥💥

This fact is so weird to me... What do you mean that some teeth just becomes an automatic RADIO under the right conditions????😭 Is this a foreshadow to Zigvolts Dentistry??? 😳⚡💚✨✨✨

Can a fae teeth play Elvis Presley just by opening their mouths...?? You know like Stitch acting as a phonograph... 😂

But I doubt??? They have radio towers at Briar Valley so it probably doesnt happen????? But It'd be pretty funny if Briar Valley radio just play bardcore music and one poor fae was "cursed" to have "magical radio teeth" playing bardcore everytime lol

My first thought was "Sebek!!!!✨✨✨" here actually 😭💚 Since he's the only freshman we're missing rn...

But I was surprised Yuu thought of Malleus??? That just further implies Yuu recognizes him as a friend that'll help them too 😭😭😭

Its just precious to think that someone finds Malleus reliable, he'll be so happy to assist Yuu if they're having trouble with anything just like how he enthusiastically offered to explain more about the Thorn Fairy since Yuu is curious about it...😭💖💞💖💗💕 I love them to BITS OMFG...

(I'm sad that Yuu is going home too but I'm ignoring that lol🚶‍♀️🚶‍♀️ Yuu is a self insert theyre supposed to speak MY language of staying with Mal-)

Its devastating that the freshmen are so hyped up to be working together THEY ARE NOT PROCESSING THE IMPLICATIONS OF YUU GOING HOME... 💔😂 if Yuu truly goes home, theres no reason for them to be gathering like this on the cafeteria anymore... 😭😭💔💔 Making myself sad that they'll buy an extra plate for them during lunch break and not even Grim touches that food... just to honor their friend😭😭😭

Wait so we know that the first night in "sleepover to discover Mickey" consists of Deuce and Ace as Grim and Yuu's companion...

Maybe the next nights (without Malleus' overblot interupption) consisted of Epel and Jack, and then possibly Ortho and Malleus??? (since Ortho is the one who suggested that therell be a fae)

Oh but Im going to cry if at Book 7's ending consisted of Yuu inviting Malleus for a sleepover at Ramshackle despite what happened... 😭😭😭 and and like the stars aligning appears once again but this time he's not at ruined Ramshackle missing his friend... He's at a peaceful sleepover with a friend group auGh... 😭😭😭💖💕💞💗💞💗

[merakiui]

mera what do u think of azul’s canon views about love from his platinum jacket groovy line and vignette:

when he was looking ariel’s portrait in the vignette:

Is this the mermaid who falls in love with a human, from the story about the sea witch? She seems optimistic, it could be exploitable.

Fufu... The world is harsh. I wonder how well she can see reality.

his groovy line:

Love is a wonderful thing. One's troubles never end when one has fallen in love, and it's a marvelous boon for those of us in the consultation business.

someone fix him 😭😭😭😭

I CAN FIX HIM. ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ he's perfect in my eyes.

I like this sort of viewpoint!!! It makes sense for his character, who is always one to find advantageous means of making a deal, to view love in such a way. "One's troubles never end when one has fallen in love" is such a good way to put it (and so good for Azul in yandere contexts). I like how consistent he is LOL. Even when it's something like love, it is still something that can be used for exploitation (to him). A weakness and a strength depending on the situation.

The "I wonder how well she can see reality" is so funny to me. T_T given the groovy image as well... Ariel, I am sorry he's being devious and judging your infatuation with Prince Eric. ;;;; but then, in a twisted (lol) way, Azul is right. It is good fortune for someone like him to come across someone who is swept up in romance. It makes negotiations easier when that person is willing to do anything and everything for the sake of love (like Ariel in the story).

The moral is that you should never make a deal with Azul while you're in love because it can only lead to trouble. But if you're me........ every red flag is green to me. I can't even see the red when I'm so deep in the sea. <3

In short, live, laugh, love Azul Ashengrotto.