#but that line is just so harsh it really takes you aback not even just at first but every single time i hear it it’s so cutting

[titsthedamnseason]

one of my favorite taylor songs to listen to the first time was happiness because i have a visceral memory of hearing the line “i hope she’ll be a beautiful fool / who takes my spot next to you” and literally gasping out loud before hearing that the next line was basically taylor saying “oh no i take that back sorry” and letting out a little relieved breath and giggling like oh she gets me!

[malarign]

situationship

(when you’re not dating yet)

contains: bf!maknaeline x fem!reader | genre: fluff | tw! none i think! | wc: 0,5k

reblogs are highly appreciated!!!

author’s note: promise that after this i’m going to write the rest of reqs in my inbox 🫡 sorry for the wait anons!!

you’ll find hyung line version here!

Kim Sunoo | 김선우

shy

Everybody knew how sassy and confident Sunoo may be, but the moment you’re in the room with him, he becomes pretty shy and quiet. He enjoys admiring you talking passionately about your hobbies and can’t help a smile that tells everybody in the room how interested he is, including you.

To break the initial ice he calls you nearly every day for “school purposes” just to have an excuse to talk to you more. With time, your phone calls became more like a tea-spilling conversation, which you awaited impatiently every evening. It became your ritual, a tradition none of you wanted to break, even when things got pretty serious between you two.

After a while, he would become more and more confident, talking with you wasn’t a problem anymore, thanks to your regular phone calls. As a result, he established his new favorite spot to place his head which was your shoulder. During those energetic days, he would lay his head there to comfortably show you something on his phone, while during those harsh days, he would doze off almost immediately, the comfort of your touch making him extremely sleepy.

Yang Jungwon | 양정원

pretty shy

Jungwon is so shy but at the same time so good at hiding his nervousness around you, you didn’t even realize you’re actually in a situatinship with him. Everything about his feelings for you is so soft, so delicate, just like a feather. His interest in you is not loud, it’s rather like a whisper, but who would mind?

When I say he is shy, I mean too shy to even take your hand. He just can’t help the blush from making his nervousness obvious at even the slightest touch that involved you. Instead, to try to give you some clue, he intentionally brushes his hand on your while walking, just because if he really did hold it properly his heart would jump out of his chest (no lies, straight facts).

He’s very attentive to you and always takes his time for you. You could just mention you wanted to go on a late-night walk but you were too scared to go alone, he’s already putting his shoes on and getting ready to go to your place. Something about those walks specifically helped him calm down, all thanks to your comforting presence.

Nishimura Riki | 西村力　

both shy and confident

Just like Heeseung, when Riki likes somebody he makes sure the person he’s into knows about his feelings. He makes it very clear, not by his words but by his actions, that never were unintentional. Every smile, every laughter, every joke, everything he did was supposed to show you his heart is full of you.

His absolute favorite way though would be teasing you (you can’t prove me otherwise). Playful jokes and sarcastic comments were his default way to say: “hey! i like you!”. The problem appeared when you teased him back. He would be so taken aback by the way you could place a blush on his cheeks with total ease. His eyes would become bigger and his brain would start to malfunction, unable to stop thinking about it.

Riki sometimes still doesn’t realize how big his body grew, overestimating now only his size but also his strength. That would often result in you being pushed away whenever he playfully bumped into you. At first, he got worried, but soon after saw that as an opportunity to catch you.

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

taglist: (open) @nicholasluvbot, @en-chantedtomeetyou, @skzenhalove, @nfrgirl, @kpoprhia, @redm4ri, @jaelaxies

[roo-bastmoon]

Thoughts on 3D

So Jungkook's collab with Jack Harlow is out. It is catchy; it will go viral. I have purchased it; I will add it to my new releases playlists--same as I do for all our boys.

But while the dancing was cool and JK's parts are okay (I'm not thrilled that the word "girl" is used literally 20 times, but I get what the western music industry is), I was--I need to be honest here--really taken aback and unhappy with how misogynistic Jack Harlow's rap lyrics were. As far as I'm concerned, he's absolutely unnecessary, and I'll be supporting the alternate version with a lot more enthusiasm.

A deeper look at the lyrics and more of my thoughts are under the cut if you're interested (but by clicking, you're agreeing to keep it respectful in the comments or you'll get banned.)

All my ABG's get cute for me I had one girl (One girl), too boring Two girls (Two girls), that was cool for me Three girls, damn, dude's horny Four girls, okay now you whorin' (Hey, hey, hey) Hey, I'm loose I done put these shrooms to good use

Setting young women up in a line and talking about how sleeping with just one is too boring but sleeping with four is whorish? Yeah, miss me with it.

Then there's this:

You won't regret me (You won't regret me) Champagne confetti (Champagne confetti) I wanna see it In motion In 3D (Show it to me, girl, now, why?)

I was given to understand that "ABG" stands for "Asian Baby Girl" and refers to an Asian party girl who likes clubbing, wearing excessive makeup and tattoos, and revealing clothes, etc.

I also learned from Urban Dictionary—which can be an unreliable site with outdated or incorrect information—that "champagne" has referred to underage girls in the past and "confetti" or nowadays “champagne confetti” refers to orgasm, or sometimes when a group of men or women surround someone, masturbate, and then ejaculate on them.

Not even going to get into the shrooms thing. I'm not in a hyper conservative country with harsh punishments for those type of drugs so... I was a bit taken aback about a song about being fucked right, and now there's lyrics about what amounts to harem girls.

*sigh* Do you know how much I hope I'm reading into things incorrectly? Please correct me if I'm misunderstanding the innuendo, but this is what urban dictionary says. I'm 44 and live in a cave. Maybe I'm wrong.

But in any case, the vibe of Jack's parts in the video was not coming off respectful.

I don't care how many other rap songs objectify and insult women--I won't get behind any content that does. And don't even try to gaslight me or other ARMY into saying we should like this because it's comparatively worse in other rap songs. Don't try to suppress any discourse about it, either--let women discuss how they feel about how they are represented. Don't police women. Don't silence women.

BTS' rap music got so much better once they incorporated feminist feedback, so I'm used to a higher standard and I won't be lowering those standards for anyone. I have no hang ups about sex, but please miss. me. with. misogynistic. bullshit.

Then again, it seems some of the rap hyungs were on board with this.

So I guess industry pros have a different take on stuff like this!

*shrug*

Okay, we have established that I really don't like Jack Harlow's contributions to this song. Which means I'll support the alternative. Thank goodness they had the foresight to provide an alternative!

Now I can work for JK's charts in a way that doesn't aggravate my conscience. All good. Enough said on 3D.

Personally? I really hope JJK1 showcases JK's range of genres, but also has a range of topics besides pursuing girls or being cool.

I just can't vibe with a fuckboy persona; I never liked Justin Bieber or Justin Timberlake for that very reason, even if some of their songs sound fine. Now, if Jungkook really admires their style and wants to pursue it, I'm not going to rag on him for it. Of course not. It's his choice and I can respect people's choices without making the same choices myself.

I will always try to support our members as far as I can, even if not everything is my cup of tea.

But I can't help hoping for something personal and authentic and substantive, when it's just Jungkook coming to us without a collab. (And with Scooter at the helm for an all-English EP, I guess I'm not holding my breath. But maybe this is all part of the learning and growing process. Time will tell.)

Please know that I don't expect other people to suit me and my tastes, but neither will I enthusiastically support content with my time and money when they don't suit me at all or actually really turn me off, ya feel me? It's a real and respectful relationship I have with BTS and their music; not performative. I don't follow along quietly out of obligation, but rather a sincere joy to participate.

I love Jungkook deeply. He's a sweet and intelligent and kind-hearted young man. Amazingly talented and humble. Sincere, open to being vulnerable, protective of those whom he loves. He donates to kid's hospitals, for goodness sake. Jeon Jungkook is a good egg.

I guess I'm just sort of feeling a bit whelmed by the type of music that is in vogue these days. JK worked hard, he did well on his parts. I just am hoping his album showcases some of the emotional depth and meaningful thoughts I have seen from him in the past, if I'm being purely honest. *shrug*

Those are my less-than-two cents. Of course, you may have a vastly different perspective and I appreciate that. Just please keep it respectful of all members and each other in the comments here. It's been a long day and I desperately need some real rest now. I'm trusting I can post this and not come back to a warzone.

I've got a Friday Thirst post in the queue for you guys, and then I'll be taking a bit of a break from social media for a few days to work on work deadlines. Please keep voting for Jimin and of course stream and buy for Jungkook and other new releases.

Sending you all so much love!

~Roo

[s1ater]

hell v heaven.

pairings. harry bingham x fem!reader

about. reader gets scolded by her friend only for harry to defend her

warnings. swearing

from ricky's mailbox to yours. I don't expect anything from this, I just wanted to post because I miss this damn show

west ham was always ordinarily boring and filled to the brim with people who had their pockets filled with more than enough money to know what to do with.

your life was a repetitive process and ran on a schedule that really never changed unless you chose to eat breakfast for once in your life, which you never really did--or take your mom up on the offer to go on walks—which you also really never did.

the day you got off that bus and found no parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, or even siblings was a day you couldn’t help but sigh in relief with finding a loss of obligations and responsibilities. you felt a lift from your shoulders and a greatness fill your chest as you finally let go and fell from your schedule.

but it wasn’t funny and you were no longer having any fun the moment you discovered your situation was permanent and a forest had overgrown all roads and tracks out of this new found nightmare of yours.

“you think god's trying to teach us a lesson?” you looked up from your book seeing your friend maddie who had her lips pressed into a thin line, still trying to figure out this whole predicament.

even as this was a nightmare and you weren’t used to change, you found yourself leaning away from getting caught up in caring so much or getting too emotional about it. you figured you could be in worse situations and at least you were still alive.

“i don’t think it’s that deep,” you mumbled carelessly, flipping the page to your book, not sparing another glance to her till she stands up with a huff and grumble, clenching and unclenching her fists while exiting harry’s living room.

but then she felt herself flipping around, facing you and your slightly confused expression, “what’s your problem?”

you frowned a little deeper as she stood before you with her poised posture, seeming more angered than you had ever seen her, “what?-” you shared a look with harry who seemed just as lost as you did before she cut you off.

“because ever since we discovered we’re trapped here it seems like you couldn’t give a damn and it’s really pissing me off,” she exhaled roughly with her chest puffing in and out with air, like she had been waiting a long time to say this. “you’re not here for anyone and i haven’t heard you cry once either, y/n.”

“you want me.. you want me to cry?” you raised an eyebrow, slightly taken aback.

“yes, y/n, because i’m really close to thinking you’re a sociopath-”

“woah, woah, woah, maddie” harry shook his head with his lips deeply curved downwards, “shut up.”

“don’t tell me to ‘shut up’ harry.”

“don’t be a cunt, maddie,” he scoffs, looking at her as if she were a fool. his stare is harsh and she even slowly begins to feel like one with how hard and taunting his eyes are.

if harry had a skill in something, it'd be his way of looking down on people and making them feel his disgust and repulsion toward them. harry had to be one of the most arrogant people you had met, but at least his arrogance came in handy in situations where you needed defense.

"whatever, harry," she rolls her eyes at him, trying to push off the sickening feeling he pushed on to her. "you two deserve each other, especially if you're both enjoying this little vacation we were gifted."

harry sits in the grey chair maddie previously sat in, "you okay?"

"yeah, I'm good."

“you sure?”

you look up to him, finally meeting his dialed in expression that was genuine and curious to your well being.

strange.

it was things like this that gave you somewhat joy that you no longer had a schedule, that kept you from hating your new reality.

west ham turning upside down revealed a lot about your fellow classmates and even best friend’s character, as seen seconds ago. you couldn’t decipher whether or not you found joy in the fact of that, but right now, with harry sitting across from you and close to reach out to you, was something you knew you enjoyed.

before, in your tight knit schedule, harry didn’t fit in it. he was only a family friend you saw at birthdays and conjoined vacations since the beginning of your memory, but nothing more.

“yeah, i’m sure,” you pressed your lips into a thin line.

“i don’t think she understands people handle grief differently,” he looks sympathetic but drops any attempt to move closer with a reach of comfort upon realization that you were really fine.

“you think i’m in grief?”

he pauses, doesn’t look at you for a minute with silence as he narrows his eyebrows before looking up to meet your eyes, “i mean, aren’t we all?”

aren’t we all?

jesus, maybe you were a sociopath.

“i-uh-“

“y/n,” he stops you, shaking his hand. “when-when my father died, i didn’t think it was real. all these people came up to me, your parents, all would walk up, apologize, offer their condolences, but i never really understood. what was the big deal?—just a death, right?”

he offers an awkward smile with a glance through his eyelashes, before looking back to his carpet, “thing was, i didn’t realize that that death, was my fathers death—i mean i did, my body didn’t. i was in denial.”

silence. you both think about his words.

the way he spoke was really smart--it surprised you that it was him that they were coming from. not only did you start to enjoy his company, but his words...

“i shouldn’t have-“

“no,” you cut him from his potential regret in sharing. you knew that took a lot from him. “maybe you're right… or maybe maddie is. maybe i really am a sociopath.”

"y/n, that's an insane thing to say," he shakes his head, still looking down, but now at his hands as he begins to rub them together. "everyone handles grief differently," he repeats, "especially something like this; especially something that feels nowhere near real."

you stare at harry, blinking, while he stares back at you with a thin-lipped smile. you felt your chest tighten to an extreme as you continued to watch, thinking about his words that tumble around in your head. you somehow couldn't grasp it; the reassurance. but rather... you were more hung up on the matter that it was him saying such kind words to you.

everyone knew harry was the biggest asshole in west ham and he had no shame in it. everyone would call you a liar is you ever exposed the conversation; harry didn't have a nice bone in his body, so how was it that he had just created one of the nicest convos you had ever had with anyone?

your chest pulls into a ball even more. you feel like you can't breathe.

what was happening to you?

you hadn't felt a pang of sadness till now.

"you okay?"

you hate that question.

"yeah, i'm okay."

"you sure?" he's leaning towards you, his eyes prying.

you feel the pressure intensify, but this time around your eyes as if something had the need to be forced out.

fuck, not now.

"y/n, woah," he's quick to come closer to you, now kneeling before you with his hands on your face.

“i shouldn’t be crying-“

he shushes you as he tries his best to clear your face from the salty tears that begin to run down your cheeks like a hill. he smiles lightly to your embarrassment while shaking his head, “crying is fine.”

“i feel bad.”

“for what?”

“harry, i don’t even feel bad about them being gone,” you sniff, wiping your face from the wetness quickly. “i feel bad about you and your father and everything.”

“oh?” he seems caught off guard about this, taking a step back from your distraught stare. “why?”

you stare over at him with wide doe eyes, something that looks like fear for the matter of having to provide an explanation. you glance to the side, also leaning away from him, bracing yourself to answer. you feel even more choked up, like your throat had been clogged and stuffed with toilet paper--or whatever it was to help you not speak.

"my parents-" you sniff, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. "god, I hated my parents--so I'm not sorry that I'm not sad about something that is ultimately a blessing... but I am sorry that this has happened to you... all of you."

he stares. he feels as if he's about to explode.

"I'm sorry, harry--that you had to lose your father and your mother as fast as you did," you shake your head, "I'm sorry that you think that that's how I feel about my own parents."

why does he feel like this?

his hand is mid air, reaching to clasp his chest as if consoling his heart, but it doesn't goes as far to make contact.

he feels strange. he doesn't know how to cope with someone he has known for so long revealing what must have been the biggest burden on their shoulders, hidden in plain sight from him, as well as gushing about sympathy for him--he hates that.

as for the other thing; harry had known you since the beginning of time, he knew your parents since the beginning of time. you were both absorbed within the same lifestyle but the two of you were never anything more than acquaintances.

he found it strange that he could see your life so clearly like it was his own, but it seemed that was only the surface of a glass window that only you and your family allowed people to see.

"y/n, you're not a sociopath," he finally says, "sociopaths don't feel sympathy for other people. you're just in a difficult situation that no kid will understand because their parents are their heroes."

he pinches the bridge of his nose, finally looking up to you, "you also shouldn't feel bad for me."

you looked at him confused, urging him to explain.

"none of us are saints, y/n. somehow i think we all deserve this," he runs a hand down the front of his face. "you... you're just somehow better than the rest of us, this is a vacation god has granted you."

you stifle a laugh, shaking your head.

he smiles in return before dropping his face into a softer expression, reaching for your hand, "you good?"

"yeah, i'm good," you nod.

"good," he squeezes your hand. "enjoy heaven while you have it."

[ihatedtoadmit]

The Windows To My Soul [3]

pairing: OT8 x fem! reader

genre: soulmates, angst, fluff, crack

warnings: Please read the 'Summary' of this series, all are listed there!

word count: ~2.8k

summary: Everything is starting to escalate in a way you start questioning if you haven't just fallen into a fanfiction somehow, or maybe the kidnapper had just gotten you and this is all a weird dream.

↳ Masterlist ↳ Next chapter ↳ Previous chapter

All rights reserved. Please do not steal, repost or feed my work into AI. Thank you!

I couldn't help but lightly rub at the aching area, playing it off as me fixing my tight turtleneck that suddenly felt a bit too suffocating.

Or so I thought I played it off, right until I saw Minho talk to Chan, the latter now worriedly glancing at my direction and walking towards me. I furrowed my eyebrows as I just watched him, a bit bothered that I understood no fucking word of their conversation still.

"Before we get comfortable and start chit-chatting, we should treat your wounds, Eevee. Where did ya hurt yourself?" - he asked, suddenly kneeling in front of my taken aback form.

I furrowed my eyebrows even harder, because I didn't really feel any pain besides my chest and ever worsening headache. And knowing my body, the former was simply bruised, thanks to my overly sensitive skin.

"You fell pretty hard ya know, there's no way you didn't get hurt from that. Now, show it, before it gets worse, please." - he voiced his concerns, as if sensing my immense confusion.

I looked at my palms instinctually, having landed on them and sure enough, they were scraped and even slightly bleeding. Lightly feeling up my arms for any other injuries -because i couldn't see them from my clothing-, I recoiled when I’d pressed onto my left elbow. I most probably landed on that amidst the harsh fight for my life, so I wasn't truly surprised.

"Can ya roll up your sleeves at all?" - he asked, but I could only shake my head, much to his disappointment.

He dragged a hand across his face and sighed, before meeting my gaze once again.

"You'll have to take it off then."

His tone was as sorry as it could get, but that didn't help my widening eyes and the surprised, strangled sounds that kept dying in my throat before successfully escaping.

"J-just to assess your wounds, I swear! Nothing more!"

The others were snickering at our expense.

Friendship was truly wonderful.

But then I realised something.

"I… don't have any other clothes with me…"

He muttered something under his breath that I couldn't quite catch, his eyes seizing up my form and then his bandmates'. He talked to Hyunjin for a bit, the blackett standing up and disappearing down the hall. Not even a minute later he’d returned, a baggy hoodie in his arms, stretched out towards me as if it was an offering.

I confusedly pointed to myself, but he airily chuckled and nodded, offering the piece of clothing to me once more. I took it hesitantly, thanking him and looking back at Chan for further instructions or any form of much needed guidance.

Thankfully, he knew what I wanted and told me where the bathroom was, even pointing in its direction. It was right across the room, the first door on the hallway. I retreated there with the provided hoodie -it was a nice shade of red-, my mind going into overdrive.

Oh god, I was about to wear an idol's hoodie.

What in the wattpad fanfiction was this??

I exhaled, the air coming out shaky and uncertain. I tucked my necklace under my turtleneck and pulled the fabric over my head, nearly unsuccessful in my struggle, although in the end I ended up wrestling it off of my form, thankfully. It was always a harsh battle of survival, one that I’d almost lost way too many times.

After my eventual success, I put down the dark clothing next to the sink, only seeing that as a big enough place to hold the fabric. Before I could grab the hoodie I’d been offered, my eyes noticed my reflection in the mirror and I muttered a few lines of curses under my breath. All in my native tongue, because that language had spicy curse words.

My whole left elbow was purple, a few spots turning almost black. The bruise continued down to my lower arm as well, but in a lighter shade, thankfully. Experimenting and prodding around lightly, nothing seemed broken or out of place. Just really, really heavily bruised.

I couldn't let them see this, they would think I was dying and start panicking, fuck.

I knew my body and thus I knew I was fine, I just bruised way too easily. Grip me hard enough and I would sport a dark bruise there the next day. Normal people weren't like that, but I didn't mind, shrugging off the random bruises I kept finding on my body regularly.

It was all fine, up until that point, that is.

Quickly scanning the rest of my upper body in the mirror, I found no other injuries, which made me let out a big sigh of relief. But… if my ribs weren't bruised, why did my chest hurt? My heart was fine, besides the slightly higher pulse. But that was okay, I was nervous in the presence of goddamn idols I looked up to!

The entire situation confused me, but I knew if I took any longer, they would start worrying and come find me, if not already. So I quickly pulled on the hoodie after fixing my mask, its form engulfing me like a blanket. The arms weren't short either, which was a nice surprise, seeing as I was just a tad bit taller than Hyunjin. His broader shoulders must have balanced it all out.

Smiling, I took my turtleneck and quickly left the bathroom, making a beeline for my bag that I’d left near the front door. After swiftly stuffing the clothing in there -a hard battle-, I hurriedly strode towards the chatting boys, gathering their attention.

"Yah, you look cute in Hyung's hoodie!" - Jisung chirped in, sounds of agreement quick to follow. "N-no, you must be seeing things wrong, very wrong, but thank you for letting me borrow it. It's really comfy." - I waved my arms in defence, embarrassed as their expressions merely turned even more teasing at that, weird enough. "Nah, they're right, but come sit back here so I can look at your arms now."

At the voice of Chan, I immediately did as I was told, not wishing to inconvenience or anger him. He gently started rolling up the right arm of the hoodie, slightly grimacing at the sight of my scraped palms. He pulled out some cotton swabs and disinfectant, warning me that it would sting. I silently nodded, knowing fully well it would, but I didn't mind. It didn't hurt that bad anyway.

After cleaning it out, he started rolling up the hoodie's other sleeve. When he first saw the lighter bruising on my lower arm, his eyebrows furrowed, but the more he saw, the more his eyes widened and his complexion paled.

"Jesus christ, we need to ice this right now. Don't move." - he said with a clear voice, the others watching in horror as they had a full view of my arm now.

"Holy shit Eevee, why didn't you say something earlier?!" - Felix shouted in english, worry dripping from every word. "It didn't hurt, okay?? I'm sorry, I didn't feel it! But it's fine, nothing's broken, I just have sensitive skin. Believe me, please." - I pleaded with him, with them, trying to calm their worries uselessly.

Before I could utter another word, Chan was back, a big ice pack and a cloth in his hands. He instructed me to straighten my arm and I did so, his hands swiftly attaching the ice pack to my arm with the long piece of fabric.

"Is it not too tight?" - he asked and I shook my head in reply.

A sigh left his lips as he looked up at me, and I couldn't help but protest, trying to salvage what I could of the chaotic situation.

"I really do have sensitive skin! I already checked in the bathroom, I could move my arm just fine and nothing felt out of place. My bones are fine, trust me." "I still want to have a doctor look at you though. That should have been our first action, but I wanted to take ya away from there as fast as possible, with the way you were shaken up." "No." "Wh– What do you mean naur?? Eevee, it's your health on the line!" "Tomorrow then… I don't think I could handle anything more today."

His eyes were adamantly looking at mine, a gaze of steel. But eventually, he relented with a sigh.

"Fine, but first thing in the morning we go to a doctor. Only because your arm felt fine, and I trust you did NOT lie about that, yea? Now, bow your head down a bit, lemme check it."

I was surprised he let up so easily, but I could see the exhaustion creeping up on him and I didn't dare not follow his words, as weird as it all felt.

He stood up and leaned down to gently card his fingers through my hair, stopping only after he was satisfied when he didn't find anything.

I tried not to think about it.

Truly, I tried not to.

"Great, now…" - he straightened up and trailed off as I looked up at him.

Following his line of sight, I found myself staring right at my legs.

"I was hoping you would forget about that." - I muttered, glaring at the ground in defiance.

Because of course my knees would be hurt and bruised too, I’d fallen on them as well. But I didn't exactly have a goddamn change of pants on me, to change out of these tight jeans into, now did I?

"No, nono, shh, how about we untie my left arm until I go and check my legs for any injuries? I can't fucking ask you guys for pants too, I just can't. Please?" - I pleaded with him, only seeing him nod with slightly red ears as he untied my arm and I hurried out of the room.

The others were snickering and I could NOT face them. No way in hell. I knew how big of a tease they were, and only at that moment was I happy that I didn't understand any korean at all.

Because Jisung howling along with Hyunjin could only be bad news.

I hurriedly closed the bathroom door and did as I suggested earlier, finding only a few spots of lighter bruises on my knees. They weren't scraped, I could bend them just fine, so I’d quickly put my pants back on and left the room.

Thankfully they were done with the teasing, but I still saw the aftermath of it.

A really flustered Bang Chan.

He was tugging at his ear when he saw me, beckoning me over even as he tried to not meet my eyes as much.

What the fuck did they say to him?

I raised an eyebrow at the others, giving them a slight side-eye, when Felix erupted in a shout of 'BOMBASTIC. SIDE. EYE.' and they started howling with laughter again.

"How are you still sane with them?" - I couldn't help but ask Chan, turning back towards him. "Honestly, I'm not sure anymore." - he sighed, but you could see the adoration for them in his eyes.

Truly, a father of 7 kids.

"Anyway, any other injuries?" - he asked, tying the ice pack to my left arm once more. "Just some light bruising on the knees, I'll survive. Thank you so much."

He waved me off and sat back down into his seat with an exhausted huff, watching over the chaos. But as a fan, I could tell that they weren't at their full potential. Either from exhaustion or something else, I couldn't tell.

They were still at the side eye meme, what did they smoke, I wanted to know.

Jeongin met my gaze and stood up, walking over towards me and sitting down right next to my very puzzled form. I watched him, confused, not knowing what he would want from me.

"You like pokemon?"

Aaah, that made sense. His accent was cute as he was trying to speak in english, my mouth curving up slightly as a result. I nodded back at him, immediately getting the question of what my favourite pokemon was.

"Hmm, that's a hard one. Maybe Mimikyu or Dratini? They're so cute. But I never really played any pokemon games, so my knowledge on them is a bit rusty."

He gaped at me as I heard several offended gasps around the room, apparently gaining the attention of everyone with that one, deadly sentence.

"What do you mean you haven't? What did you grow up on then??" - Felix asked, hopping next to me on my other side. "...Spyro the purple dragon?" "Okay, you are forgiven."

I couldn't help but laugh at him, how his arms were crossed as he nodded approvingly, as if he was an approving parent.

A little tap on my shoulder gained my attention, Jeongin pointing at me and my headphones. I didn't even notice I still had them on, I must have put them back around my neck instinctually having been done with changing clothes, the device’s weight comforting.

"And you like music?"

Ooohh shit, I was hoping we wouldn't go into this territory. The guilt from earlier reared its ugly head up full-force now, but I nodded at his question nevertheless, already knowing what their next question would be.

"What kind do you listen to?"

I almost gave the gut response of 'Stray Kids', because that was what I had been listening to actively for the past years. But I stopped myself in time, looking at him with a blank stare.

"Uuuh, lots, like j-rock, fantasy music, soft rock, anime music–" "YOU WATCH ANIME?!" - Jisung had nearly fallen out of his seat, eyes locked onto my surprised form with a big grin.

Taken aback, I leaned a bit back as I nodded, accidentally bumping into Jeongin. I apologised, but he didn't mind as he steadied me, leaving a hand on my shoulder even after I’d righted myself.

"Sorry, sorry, but what kind? Which ones? What's your favourite? Do you also watch Ghibli? Which movie is your favourite?"

And the conversation derailed into the topic of anime, mainly powered by the quokka and sometimes me, if we were talking about a particularly dear anime to my heart. The others added in their parts too, after all, Jisung was not the only weeb in the group. Just the biggest.

But after god knew how long, I’d gotten a question I never wanted to get.

"Did you come here to get some anime merch? I have some great shop recommendations, if so!"

I blinked, my mind coming to a halt.

Suddenly, I was hyper aware of who I was talking with, who were sitting in the same room as me, sitting next to me. I knew who they were, their ages, what they liked and disliked, hell, even who had what kind of pet. But they didn't know that.

It felt like I was committing a crime, lying to them. Even though they saved me and helped me so much.

The air had gotten stuck in my throat, no amount of gulping unlodging it from its resting place. Everything felt hot, as if I was suffocated from the weight of my sins.

I couldn't do it anymore.

"I-... I actually came for a concert. I apologise for not telling the whole truth before, I swear I didn't do it with bad intentions. I'm a STAY, I know who you all are, I love listening to your songs, and my reason for visiting Japan was for your concert. You can hate me for lying, be angry at me or anything else, I just didn't want any of you to feel pressured to act like an idol in your resting time. You can take my phone away, check for any photos, videos, I don't care, I swear I didn't take any. I'm so sorry for not telling you sooner, I really didn't mean anything bad!"

I was definitely rambling halfway through, my thoughts jumbled and overlapping. It was a miracle I didn't switch languages through all that, even as the speed of my talking increased to a dangerously high degree.

I simply sat there, rigid, my knuckles turning white from how tight I was closing my fists together. I didn't dare look at them, the ground much more interesting as I tried my best not to cry or pass out from the lack of air. Maybe I could miraculously suck my tears back in if I tried hard enough, so I wouldn't sit there with glossy eyes.

Next chapter

[galaxywarp]

(please like if you read. and it would mean a lot to me if you read.)

————————

My body and my mind have been sick lately

So my sleep schedule has been fucked.

3am is a normal time to wake.

And just before the sun rises,

I find a couple of dollars

And I put some gas in my tank and I buy a cheap iced coffee,

And I drive and I watch the sun come up

While I listen to music that makes my friends sad.

And as I’m standing at the pump and overdrawing my bank account to put a few dollars of gas in my car,

And my speakers are playing a song about wanting to kill my father with a baseball bat,

I see a man around my age walking towards the gas station,

From out of the shadows of the distant sidewalk

Into the harsh light.

And he’s wearing an oversized sweatshirt and baggy sweatpants and he’s walking alone through the dark to a gas station at 5 in the morning to buy a lighter

And some part of me registers that this is a man who others may feel nervous about him approaching them through the darkness.

But in him I see myself.

And I miss being a meth addict.

And I miss his world. And I miss dragging myself, dirty and beaten, to the nearest gas station at 5 in the morning with loose change in my pocket to buy myself a lighter so that I can smoke my meth pipe.

And I get back in my car that’s still playing a song about wanting to kill my father with a baseball bat.

And I try to think about what it is I’m missing.

And I think of rooms of faces,

Painful, terrible, beautiful faces,

Where every person there understands exactly what it’s like to be at a gas station at 5 in the morning listening to a song about wanting to kill your father with a baseball bat.

And you don’t have to think about it.

You don’t have to talk about it.

They just hand you a pipe

And a lighter

And the pain goes away.

And I drive to pick up my iced coffee

And I don’t feel as bad about the iced coffee as I thought I would.

It’s only two dollars, after all.

And it’s easy to find two dollars, even when you have nothing else.

You can find two dollars in a lot of places.

In your couch.

In old jacket pockets.

In the kindness of a stranger.

And I’ve been hoarding loose change for years.

I keep it in my grandpa’s old ammunition box from the war.

The box where I keep one of the shells from the guns they fired at his and grandma’s funeral.

The box where I keep a dirty rusty nail that someone gave me in rehab.

Someone who didn’t make it, but I did.

The box where I keep the smooth pretty blue stone that the other patients passed around on my last day, that they held close to their hearts as they wished me strength on my journey. As they told me that I was strong and that I was going to make it.

And it’s the box where I keep my loose change

For iced coffee

And meth lighters.

It’s easy to find two dollars.

Your mom will give you two dollars

If you tell her it’s for iced coffee

And not meth lighters.

Your mom will give you two dollars

If you promise it’s not to kill yourself.

And in the drive thru the girl asks me to please wait a moment, she has to refill the coffee.

And I tell her it’s okay, really, no rush.

And she thanks me

And tells me she appreciates me.

And I think about all the jobs I’ve had

Where I had to ask a customer to please wait a moment

So I could do something important

Like refill the coffee

Or use heroin in the bathroom.

And when she hands me my iced coffee I say thank you

And I tell her “I appreciate you too”.

And I see her face fall, briefly,

As she is stunned by my words

Taken aback by this brief, fleeting moment of genuine kindness and connection.

And just as quickly she smiles at me

Truly smiles

And says thank you.

And I hurry and drive away, so she can deal with the rest of the cars in line

Many of which are running late for work

And who will blame her for it.

And I take my drive.

And I watch the sun rise.

And I listen to music that makes my friends sad.

And when I come home

I wash down my antidepressants with what’s left of my iced coffee

And I think about how I don’t miss being a meth addict.

I am a meth addict

Without his pipe.

[fandomwritingbit]

How about Drunk William being a little too loud while yelling at his tv that AFAB!reader (neighbor) asks him to tone the noise down but instead he convinces her to come inside for drinks but ends up in a sticky situation.

My guy, I read this request at 4 in the morning and physically vibrated with excitement. This is so good, thank you!

I changed it a little- but I hope this is the ticket! 

Drunk William x afab reader - Bad Neighbours

Arguing and smut below the cut xx

From directly above you the sound of metal scraping against the floor again woke you up. It sounded like the person in the flat above you was rearranging their whole set up, a drag and then a thump, shortly followed by glass clinking; it’s maddening.

What the fuck is that noise? Your brain finally snaps, for God’s sake, it’s so late, well past the half eleven noise curfew and you’ve got work in the morning. It’d be another thing entirely if the sound happened once or twice but it had been on and off for hours, pulling you in and out of sleep in the most brutal way.

Sitting up in bed, you rub your eyes to better see your phone screen, which stung your eyes in the pitch black of your bedroom. 03:12. You exhale from your nose, more than pissed off. 

Tired induced anger motivated you to put a jacket on over your sleep shorts and vest, grab your keys and stomp out of your flat. Only recalling the need to be courteous when you see the night sky out the windows. You don’t bother with the lift, b-lining for the stairs and following them up to the next floor in your building, eager to give the person who lived above you a piece of your mind. You have no idea who lives there, your knowledge limited to your floor, and even then you didn’t know your neighbours that well. 

You make it up the stairs quickly and head to the door with the same letter as you, the one directly overhead. There you knock on the door, firmly but not too loud out of respect for neighbours - if any of them could feasibly sleep with that racket going on. And from inside you can hear the rustling of someone standing up and walking over to the door, so you steel yourself waiting for confrontation. Keys jangle and thud against the door as the inhabitant clearly missed the lock, making you sigh, great, a pisshead.

Finally your neighbour manages to unlock their door and it swings open revealing perhaps the tallest man you’ve ever seen. So much so that you have to tilt your head to find his eyes, he squinted with the harsh light of the hallway before fixing you with a bemused stare. He’s so attractive that you briefly forget what you came here for. 

“You alright, love?” the man asks a little slurred, eyebrows raised as he waits for you to say something. Seriously, who knocks on someone’s door and doesn’t say anything? 

You blink, remembering you’re angry, scoffing a laugh, “Not really, mate. I mean, come on. Some of us have work in the morning, what the hell are you doing in there?” You speak too quickly for him and it takes a second for your interrogation to register. 

“Dropped a glass.” he shrugs, before flashing you a stunning grin. “Though I’d have been more careful if I knew it would wake a cute thing like you.”

You’re taken aback and just laugh a little. “Yeah, sure. Look that noise wasn’t just a glass, whatever fucking DIY you’re doing, save it for normal hours, yeah?” 

He sniggers at your tone, his eyes narrowing. “Okay, sorry, sweetheart. I’ll stop.” He held up his hands, swaying slightly at the change of posture that his drunk mind wasn’t ready for. “Honestly, you always so tightly wound?

His condescending question might as well have struck a match because you move closer to the door, trying not to raise your voice, “Listen, mate, I didn’t come here for an argument- just to ask you nicely to pack it in-” 

“Well, I’m sure you can be nicer than that, sweetheart.” Somewhat understandably, he didn’t flinch from your form, instead just meeting it, hand on the doorframe for support. His eyes looked you up and down for a moment before he continued, “But it’s alright, you’re clearly upset. Why don’t you come in… I’ve got some class whiskey.”

~

In little more than 5 minutes you have so many questions for yourself and most of them begin with why. Why did you say yes and come into this man’s flat? How did you think this could possibly be a good idea? Why did you let him press you against the front door? Why is your tongue in his mouth? Why aren’t you going to stop? 

The answer to the majority of these is probably ‘because this fella is hot, like really hot.’ 

His frame practically consumes you pressed up against this door, his touch clumsy and down to the point dirty, large hands squeezing your arse. You grunt some kind of approval, grinding your hips against this stranger’s crotch, feeling the prominent and hard bulge that you just couldn’t wait to quite literally get your hands on. Almost grinning when you realise that the only taste of that ‘class whiskey’ you were going to get, being the taste of it on his tongue, and it could be arousal talking but he was right, it was fucking delicious.

Almost before you can register it, you’re pulling this man’s shirt up to gain access to his waistband and letting him suck inelegant kisses on your neck. Much too eagerly pulling down his trousers and boxers and grabbing the hardness no longer concealed. You still can’t quite believe this is happening and you just stroke his stiffness utterly mesmerised, hearing him grunt against your skin, whilst his hands pull down the straps of your vest enough to free your tits. Feeling brave, you tilt your hips up, now rubbing his cock with the tip resting against your core, the feeling somehow making you wetter than you already are. 

He pulls your shorts to the side to reveal your glistening pussy for him, then two fingers slide between your legs, collecting your slick before giving your clit some much needed attention. Even nearly mortal, as this bloke clearly was, he still knew exactly what he was doing, his thumb putting delicious pressure on your bundle of nerves and fingers diving between your folds and pushing intoxicatingly inside you. 

“Fuck…” You moan, your breath almost ragged as his movements tighten the coil inside you. There was really no finesse to it at all, your hips rolling against his fingers bordering on embarrassing, and no doubt that shame would catch up with you tomorrow. But right now, you just want to cum so bad. 

You’re letting him fuck his fingers in and out of you, trying to stroke his cock while rutting against him, the amount of stimulus too much for this time of the morning, especially when confronted with this guy who knew all the buttons to push to have you a gooey sticky mess. You’re almost at the top of your climb, pulling him towards you by his arm, looking at him with your lip between your teeth in a hope that he knows what you're thinking, his fingers shoving you closer by the second. And just- just as you’re there, the screaming taste of climax coating your tongue, he pulls out of your hole, leaving you clenching around nothing. 

You groan in disappointment, shoving your hips forward to silently demand that you want more. Taking his cock, you notch it against your entrance, the precum leaking from him sticking to your overflowing pussy, which his drunk brain just can’t cope with. And he’s pulling one of your legs up, draping it over his waist to let his body that bit closer to you so he can press his dick inside you. Clearly tiredness had blinded you to his size because, to say the least, it’s a surprise. You claw at him in pleasure tinted shock, by the time he’s fully sheathed your climax begins to resurface, spurred on by that fucking delicious stretch. 

He grunts when he hits the hilt, your little pussy tight and fluttering around him, and it could be the drink, or the unexpected encounter but he knows he won’t last long with a grip like that. You have no doubt that if someone was on the other side of this door they’d hear the sloppy sound of your cunt taking him in, louder as he became more greedy with how he was fucking you. He’s going so hard it’s almost like he’s forgotten you’re there, and you’re right on your peak, leg and hands wrapped tight around this stranger. Falling apart when he shoves his hand on your clit, instantly making your hips buck forwards as those familiar blinding waves took you over. 

He groans with the vice-like fluttering of your walls, reaching the ‘fuck it’ point of reasoning when he just chased his own creeping end. Thrusting into you through your climax before pulling out of your twitching pussy to spread his release on your lower stomach. 

He laughs, when he’s finished painting you, pulling away to fix himself as you do the same, the reality of it becoming apparent when your shorts cling to the stickiness coating all of your lower half. What a fucking mess. 

You don’t exchange another word with this man, the second you’re righted you open his front door and slip out of it, careful to not let it bang behind you. You stand blinking in the bright light for a moment, dazzled by it after the darkness of his flat, or at least the small part of it you saw. Sighing, you take a step forward, a little unsteady on your feet, and then you hear it again. 

That god forsaken, stupid-arse, motherfucking sound of metallic scraping screeching through the whole building. You turn back to the man’s apartment, fury seeping through your veins, before you realise… The sound isn’t coming from behind you but rather to your right. 

And disbelief floods over you- you got the wrong fucking flat.  

[gepardling]

First of all I ABSOLUTELY LOVE YOUR WRITING! YOU ARE INCREDIBLE <33 JUST PRAISE. Now! I just wanted to say that I can't stop imagining our dear boy Gepard with a doctor reader. Like he comes back injured and she just takes care of his wounds and he looks up at her with such adoration. I imagine it something like that Spiderman scene with Peter and Gwen?? If you get me, when Peter goes to her and she treats his wounds, they are so close and it's so cute!! So yes something similar happens with our boy Geppie. (still love your writing a lot!)

scars of service w/ gepard.

desc. : okie so I LOVED WRITING THIS OOPS i initially had a slightly diff idea for dis but after reading the whole thing i jus had a "dis piece is complete" moment n i really liked what i had so ! enjoy :) the title is a play on the love language "acts of service" ♥︎ (wc : 1k )

tags / cw : sfw, just fluff, established relationship, gn!reader, mention of injury/blood but nothing graphic described, hurt/comfort (?) perhaps, gepard is a little arrogant man who should be more careful on the frontlines

Unwavering dedication breeds self-sacrifice, and Gepard's unyielding commitment on the frontlines often gave rise to both acts of bravery and the perilous seed of arrogance. He was no stranger to throwing himself at the Fragmentum, fending off waves of monsters in an attempt to break the enemy line so that his soldiers may have an advantage. While Gepard may have had the stamina, he was only human and you knew he was bound to reach his limit eventually.

On this day, the Fragmentum onslaught proved exceptionally harsh. Unending masses of monsters stormed the frontlines, clashing with the silvermane forces in relentless waves. Even Gepard, alongside his fatigued comrades, was starting to tire. After fending off an abnormally large beast, the captain found himself worse for wear. Without the arrival of the rear guard as back-up, he would have collapsed on the spot.

Hearing the door to the clinic slam open was enough to give anyone a fright, and the icy breeze sent a chill down your spine. You were taken aback when you realized it was Captain Gepard in the doorway, once-pristine white uniform now stained with blood and dirt. As your eyes scanned his figure, your heart raced at the state he was in – that the blood on his uniform was in fact his own and not from a soldier he had brought in for first aid. 

Immediately, you rushed to his side, guiding him to the examination table in the corner of the room. Gepard hissed when you pressed against his wounded side, prompting him to sit on the edge of the bed. At this point, neither of you had spoken a word to the other, and frankly you were too afraid to ask. While it is true that you'd often do volunteer work on the frontlines, you'd never expected to see the Captain in such a dire state as he is now.

As you pushed up his uniform coat, the sight of the grievous laceration on his side made you gasp. Removing the upper half of his uniform revealed even more scratches and bruises he had endured. Wordlessly, you retrieved the necessary materials, pulling up a chair next to the bed. “What happened?” you asked after a long period of silence had passed, cleaning the area around the laceration with an antiseptic solution. Gepard breathed deeply when the liquid seeped into his wound, burning the exposed flesh. 

“The Fragmentum,” he finally replied, pointedly avoiding the worried look in your eyes. With steady hands, you continued your ministrations, your gaze fixed on Gepard's injury. The severity of his wounds sent a shiver down your spine, and concern etched itself into your gentle features. The heavy silence clung to the air, amplifying the weight of your unspoken fears. As you carefully applied a sterile dressing to his side, you couldn't help but press for more answers, unable to ignore the nagging worry that gnawed at your heart.

"You’ve never had an injury this bad," you remarked softly, trying to keep your voice steady. "But this... this time it's more than just a skirmish. What happened out there, Gepard?" Gepard's eyes flickered, his gaze fixated on a distant point on the wall. His reluctance to share the details only fueled your determination to unearth the truth. You knew him well enough to recognize his attempts to shield you from unnecessary worry, but this time, you couldn't let him dismiss your concerns so easily.

Leaning closer, you gently grasped his hand, dabbing his bruised knuckles with the cleaning agent and applying a bandage. "Please, Gepard," you implored, your voice laced with genuine care. "Share your burden with me." Finally, his eyes met yours, revealing a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability. The familiar strength that radiated from him seemed momentarily diminished, replaced by a quiet vulnerability that tugged at your heart. 

A faint smile played on his lips, a subtle attempt to lighten the mood. “I may have overstayed my welcome, but rest assured, I still seem to be in one piece.” He gently raised his hand to your face, thumb stroking your cheek. Your gaze held a sadness that broke his heart, but your mouth curved into a gentle smile.

"You know I worry about you out there," you whispered, your hand pressing against his on your cheek. "I don't want your duty to be your downfall." You looked away, searching for another wound to focus on, to divert your mind from the dark thoughts.

"It's the fear of losing you that gives me the strength to push past my limits. If I couldn't protect Belobog – to protect you – I wouldn't know what would become of me," he replied, a familiar determination etched into his tone. You fell silent, gently applying a numbing gel to the cut on his arm. It was pointless to argue, but it didn't mean you approved of his reckless behavior.

"I would've stitched you up without anesthetic if I didn't love you, you know?" you quipped, chuckling softly at the thought. Gepard only laughed, leaning in to plant a soft kiss against your lips. It was apologetic, for making you worry about him as much as he did. When he pulled away, you no longer felt sadness. His presence alone calmed your worries.

But as he leaned in for another peck, you found yourself pushing against his chest with your free hand. “Hey,” you breathed, “At least let me finish stitching up this cut…” The needle still grasped tightly between your fingers, you hoped you wouldn't accidentally pull the thread too tight. But maybe, just maybe, it would teach him a lesson to be more careful next time.

After you finished patching up Gepard, a quiet understanding filled the room. As your fingers traced across his scars, a mixture of tenderness and concern enveloped your heart. You had come to accept that this was how things would be, that he would always be drawn to the frontlines, risking his well-being for the greater good. Yet, in that moment, you silently vowed to cherish every precious moment, knowing that your unwavering support would be his guiding light in the darkest of times.

the science nerd in me had 2 tone down the medical references and play up the emotions to 100 hehe ♥︎ but OMGGG dat Spiderman scene was so soft aaaa i hope I managed to capture the vibes...

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

season 1 episode 13 thoughts

A SCULLY EPISODE!!!! i was overjoyed and then i felt deep and immeasurable grief as the minutes went by.

she wants to leave her christmas tree up all year <3 she's a good cook <3 her dad calls her starbuck <3

but her dad is being avoidant! he didn't even say i love you when he left!

! dana scully lore reveal ! her dad lowkey sucks!!!

and then he IMMEDIATELY DIED right after! that is sick and twisted. why do they make my girl endure such pain.

the next note i made for the episode was "omg windows you have to crank!" which was a brief moment of levity among the Sorrow. except even the guy doing the said window cranking was kidnapped right after. still, the novelty of it all!

when scully came into work even though her dad had just died... we see mulder call her "dana" for the first time... she was visibly taken aback by this... and mumbled her name back to herself... my heart was melting out of my body

and when i thought i was going to already collapse from the "dana" moment, he tells her she should take some time for herself and then. softly cups her cheek. and strokes it with his thumb. holy fuck i nearly sobbed. it was the softest thing i have ever seen. what the hell man.

he has this instinctive need to touch her. to use his touch to keep her safe or bring her comfort. it will be psychoanalyzed at a later date from me but for now, know i am noticing the motifs.

(also, when he finally left his office, we see that he kept the hat from the alien obsessed guy in episode 10... good to know this is a man who takes souvenirs. take him to the zoo and see what he comes back with)

so then we cutscene to her dad's funeral and we learn that her father was in the navy- perhaps this is why he is unduly harsh. and then we got ANOTHER scene that beat my heart into a pulp: scully turning to her mom and asking "was he proud of me?" her mom waits for a beat and says "he was your father". HEY! THAT'S NOT AN ANSWER!!!!!!!!!

(who wouldn't be proud of scully? i'm taking names. write them down)

when interrogating the death row psychic mulder once again said "i want to believe" and i once again wrote in my episode notes "HE SAID THE LINE!"

interesting that this is an episode where scully believes and mulder doesn't, almost immediately from the beginning of the episode. but the psychic says stuff her dad would say and therefore she gets emotionally invested even though mulder says it's nonsense, and that this guy is setting them a trap because mulder got him put on death row. and when she listens to the psychic's clue and find evidence at an abandoned warehouse, mulder yells at her for putting herself in danger. to which she said:

"i thought you'd be pleased i opened myself to extreme possibilities"

scully i am REACHING through the screen and telling you i'm proud of you in case no one ever did that before

(and MAYBE mulder yelling at her for putting herself in danger because he thinks he needs to protect her WAS deeply satisfying but still. read the room my king)

(also revealed in this scene: mulder is a jimi hendrix fan. i am tucking this knowledge in my pocket and storing it safely)

then the psychic decided to reveal some of her personal memories and we learn she stole a cigarette when she was 14 and she thought it was disgusting but she wanting to do something they would disapprove of. and she was so scared but so excited. are you kidding me? are you absolutely kidding me. the need to rebel from an assigned role in which she feels she MUST be perfect has haunted her from a young age, and when she finally did something her parents really disprove of- joined the FBI instead of working as a doctor- she's met with rejection. so now we know she's had this terrible need to do what pleases those she loves and to break that is a rush from its inherent moral Wrongness. the isolation of being the Good Child who does what She's Told vs. the isolation of being the Less Good Child who loses their parent's approval. that terrible ache of knowing you once pleased them and now you don't. the conditional nature of affection. ohhhhh good lord.

later mulder gets shot and scully thinks the psychic lured him into a trap which leads to her screaming at him (like SERIOUSLY screaming) that if mulder dies, she'll kill the psychic herself. now this was especially crazy because we have only at this point seen her yell once before which was in episode 8, but this was 10x that intensity. also wild for revealing that she will kill anyone who hurts mulder. once again i say holy FUCK.

mulder is wheeled in to the hospital and still telling her not to believe him, says that he's luring her into another trap. at this point i was yelling "TELL MULDER HE KNEW ABOUT YOUR DAD!" but she was too deep in the grief to bring it up

(throughout the entire episode she is hallucinating her dad in places he isn't, which is arguably far more impactful than just seeing her cry)

when the psychic reveals the location of the murderer and they go to check it out, scully straight up shoots the suspect. she is NOT playing around, y'all. i think this is the first time we see her shoot someone, which is already a lot to unpack. but then she doesn't follow the killer because the psychic had warned her against it and in this way he saves her life.

then she says thank you to the psychic, who says "come to my execution and i'll give your father's message to you" and she DOESN'T GO. mulder asks her why, because now he seems to think that psychic dude really WAS telling the truth, and she no longer does:

"why can't you believe?" "because i'm scared"

she's scared!! she's scared to believe. she's scared to know what is out there and she seemed scared to know what her father had to say. isn't there enough uncertainty in this world ruled by facts and science? what could the possibilities be like beyond that? why believe in what you cannot control? she says she knew what he would say because "he's my father". is that enough for her? or was she too frightened to hear that he wasn't proud of her?

overall i've said "holy fuck" like a LOT during this recap and i truly feel that those are the only words i have for the situation. getting to see more scully lore was EXACTLY what i was hoping for and i'm so pleased but also so so so sad. like she keeps her christmas tree up and she's a good cook and she has this terrible need for her father's approval that he won't give and then he goes and dies. i need about 10 beach episodes to make up for the sadness here. chris carter i'm in ur walls.

[yogurtkags]

❝ IF NOT FOR YOU ❞ — semi eita

03. honey moon

♫ … cw: very briefly alludes to childhood family issues if you squint very hard (one liner), language, misunderstandings, dialogue heavy, not proofread

"honey, all i see is you, dressed in the moon, i know. and i know, if we can ever set together, like constellations, we can live forever"

series masterlist | prev | next

some days you wish eita drove, purely for convenience of course. most days you don’t, today is one of those days.

the soft genuine smile on your face seeing him knock on your apartment door with windswept hair and one hand tucked in the pocket of his leather jacket, the other holding up his skateboard, can probably rival the gentleness of a pale orange sunrise— not that you believe it, but anyone who can see your face would say that.

the visual before you is so very predictable, so very eita, and you take it all in akin to returning home after a long day.

before you even register it, your body moves on muscle memory and you’re subconsciously bringing a hand up to smooth down some of the wild strands on his head, fully knowing that it’ll all be for naught once you step outside again, the breeze bound to mess it up again. your actions don’t go unnoticed, the faintest of blushes powdering his cheeks in the prettiest of pinks.

“hey, you got everything?”

“yeah, let’s go.” you huff out a humoured breath, swinging your satchel over your shoulders and body and patting it down to make sure all your necessities were in before heading out and closing the door behind you.

getting on eita’s board and wrapping your arms securely around his torso for stability comes naturally, you’ve done this countless times before after all, but this time feels different. it feels oddly intimate, the way his arm curls around your waist to keep your bodies close together, the top of your head just brushing against the apple of his cheek, hair tickling the supple flesh. it’s nothing new, yet today it all feels a little too real, the sensation causing tingles to rush through every nerve and muscle.

shoyo brought it up once before how he’s never seen eita do that with anyone else, no one’s ever hitched a ride on his trusty skateboard, never even come close to getting on it, let alone with him. the thought sent you in an upward spiral of false hope and yearning and made you give him a harsh slap against his arm for planting that idea in your head. you ultimately push it down every time, continuously telling yourself that it’s just because we’re so close.

his words snap you out of your wistful daydreaming, faint and mellow in tone, gentle, “are you okay?”

“hmm? yeah, why would i not be?” taken aback by the sudden question, you look up at him quizzically, eyebrows furrowed.

his eyes remain focused and don't leave the road, hardly sparing you a glance within his peripheral vision. this particular street is empty at this time of day and there’s really no need for him to be on such high alert, he’s not the most reckless of skaters and prioritises safety over anything especially when you’re with him — does he not even want to look at you? “you tell me, it’s been more than a week of radio silence from you.”

oh.

you conjure up a half-assed attempt at deflecting, untrue yet genuinely apologetic, cheek warming in embarrassment, “i’ve just… been really stressed out with assignments, don’t even worry about it.”

sometimes you hate that he knows you so well, it feels like he can see right through you. he’s always been able to read you like a well-loved book, the only sign of age and use being the yellowing pages sandwiched between pristine paperback covers and favourite phrases highlighted and lines annotated, dusted off regularly so dirt and dander doesn’t collect.

you hate lying to him, but it’s necessary this time to protect your heart from yourself, not him — he won’t break your heart, but just the implication of things ever moving forward in your friendship and the potential of it all falling apart shakes a deep-rooted fear in your inner child that you’ll never be ready to confront. not right now, not when it could concern him.

“you know, you’re a terrible liar.” he mumbles, just barely loud enough for you to hear over the sound of wayward wind and plastic polyurethane wheels on asphalt. he drops the topic there and then, but what’s done is done. maybe it’s the past week or so of quiet that encourages a stillness to fall over the both of you, but the rest of the ride to campus is done in a suffocating silence.

the walk across campus to the music room was awkward to say the least, you’re looking at the dirty grimey floors more than ahead, letting muscle memory take you to where you need to be. eita trudges along next to you, heavy footsteps echoing down the hall as you walk side by side, a thick barrier of tension built up between you. the only thought in your mind is to get to the room as soon as you can, at the very least the boys will be a pleasant distraction from whatever this is.

pushing the door open, three heads immediately lift up from whatever they’re doing in attention, eyes lighting up when they see your figure trailing behind eita, spouting a chorus of greetings.

atsumu comes running over to you, throwing an arm around your shoulder, “i missed ya! semi-mi doesn’t bring you along often enough.”

akaashi greets with a smile, polite as ever, “nice to see you! it’s been a while.”

your gaze flits over to the youngest in the room, kageyama, “hi kags!” and he cutely responds with a shy hello, eyes averted. the boys dote on him lots and look out for him whether they like to admit or not and you’re no exception.

“i swear you guys are more excited to see her than me.” eita begrudgingly mumbles, flipping atsumu off when he sticks out a tongue in retaliation.

“it’s all in good fun! i missed you guys too.” you reassure, setting your things down and getting comfy on the small two-seater situated in the corner of the room, propping your laptop up on your lap.

eita, seemingly distracted, puts down his guitar case and pauses in his steps for a second before taking a seat next to you, leaving a gap wide enough for you to notice it’s deliberate. “come over here for a sec, we got something to show you guys.”

you don’t like the hesitancy in his actions and it hurt a little to see, but you try to pay no mind, instead focusing your energy into not peeling the skin around your cuticles off in nervousness.

thankfulness looks a little different for you, it’s typically laced with a veil of self-doubt, anxiety and a dilapidating fear of failure. it’s easy to say offhandedly that you’re grateful for the good things that have come out of struggle, but it comes and goes in waves. you love this little community that you have backing you: eita, your roommates, the boys, always at your beck and call — but showing them original creations has always been daunting, even more so than putting your work out on social media. you care more about what your loved ones think that any random faceless nameless stranger on the internet.

coming up behind you to gently massage your sweater-clad shoulders, atsumu leans forward to peer at what’s on your screen, “relax, it’s just us. and yer stuff’s always good, ya never miss.” resounding nods and hums of agreement from the rest temporarily calms your heart, taking a deep breath and hitting play.

as the tunes flow from your little laptop speakers, the rest of the room falls quiet, only the sound of shoes tapping, fingers drumming sound aloud and subtle quips of approval ring in your ears. you zero in on the track and let your mind get lost in the music, only realising that it's ended when the same hands on your shoulders begin shaking you. “it’s so good, what the fuck!”

"tsumu, i swear to god." you barely manage to laugh out as your body jostles from side to side, eyes briefly settling on eita's and letting the tiniest smile slip as he nods, almost to say i told you they'd like it.

"you sound great in this genre, it's fresh, i like it. right kageyama?" akaashi lightly bumps his hip into kageyama’s, said boy nodding with bright eyes and mumbling a soft, “it’s really good.”

with a sigh of relief, the tension leaves your body. you had nothing to worry about, eita said so and his words ring true even now. they always do.

with flushed cheeks, you clap, "okay let's get on with what we were supposed to do. did you have any songs that you wanted to practice?"

akaashi fills you in on the few songs they were planning on trying out today to possibly add to their next gig's setlist. it's almost comical how much they deny being in a band together, yet they're the regular, or rather the only line up every time eita gets invited to perform at an event or lands a gig. one of the songs catches your attention, the title sparking recognition and familiarity in the database of songs that is your head. eita jokingly calls you 'spotify with legs' sometimes much to your chagrin.

"oh i love that one so much." you muse, pulling it up on the speakers as the initial strums of 'honey moon' by holding absence sinks into your skin and seeps into your bones. it’s poetic, it’s lovesick, and full of yearning, right up your alley, and oddly suited to the situation you have yourself stuck in right now.

and so a few warm ups and guitar tunings later, you find yourself seated upright against the plush couch cushions with a microphone in your hand, the boys wired up to their respective equipment and waiting for eita’s cue. you aren’t supposed to sing with them, but with some coaxing you gave in with a lighthearted eye roll and the compromise that you’ll be doing just the harmonies. you’re just teasing, you won’t pass up any chance to sing and they know it very well.

singing comes as naturally as breathing, not that you’re self assured in your abilities but it’s something that’s been ingrained you in since you were a child. letting the sounds weave into the crevices of dead spaces in your heart and mend unhealed chambers, you close your eyes and let the music overtake your senses, losing yourself in the lyrics and clearing your head, self-soothing even if just for a little while.

eita takes the opportunity to trace his sight over your features as your voices meld together in unison. regardless of how you felt, music was always the one thing that could lift your spirits.

he feels terribly guilty that things have taken a turn for the worst today, his thoughtless jab earlier seeming to have struck a nerve with you. he doesn’t want to invade into your space more than he has already done, backing away and letting you welcome him in again in your own time. it just sucks that he knows you well enough to tell when you’re lying, and hopes that it wasn’t because if anything he’s done. did he say or do something wrong that has you pushing him away?

you’re like a kaleidoscope — you’ve known each other all your life, yet it feels like he keeps finding new sides and shades of you that he’s unable to comprehend. especially recently, it feels like something about you is changing, within you, in your dynamic with him. eita doesn’t know what this means but he’s afraid, afraid to be a thorn in your side, afraid that he’s not really what you want after all. he knows he’s being irrational and letting his emotions control him in this moment but what else is he supposed to do?

his thoughts seem to confirm themselves when he sees you packing up your things and making a move to leave with atsumu once the session wraps up. wait, you’re not heading back with him?

— fun facts.

♫ … the music room on campus used to only be used by semi (lead guitar & vocals) and yn until atsumu (drums) and akaashi (rhythm guitar) came in as freshmen and started jamming out together.

♫ … shy aloof kagayema (bass) wandered in the next year and the rest was history.

♫ … yn met akaashi in a creative writing class, and has seen kageyama in passing (met through shoyo) and atsumu's just here for the vibes.

♫ … yn is the closest to atsumu, they just hit it off really well from the get go and he brings out the playfulness in her. if not eita, she often goes to him whenever she needs a male's perspective on something, or just a good time!

♫ … regardless of whether semi and yn show up to band practice together, he always makes sure to send her home, which is why he's a little ??? about her taking off with atsumu unannounced.

taglist. open (send an ask / comment to be added!) @wyrcan @aozui @cheesypuffkins87 @peachyugoose @tetzoro

@twiishaa @samuel1004 @blueparadis

notes. ruh roh, misunderstanding and jealousy arc!

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.

[goosewriting]

Could i ask for scenario 22 with Donnie having to stay at the reader's house, and he also said the 27th pink prompt? Maybe it's implied they both have feelings for each other?

Storms and sleepovers (rottmnt Donnie x reader)

scenario 22: There’s a big storm going on outside while A is at B’s house, so B insists they sleep over. prompt 27: “I can braid your hair for you- I mean, only if you want.”

summary: Donnie offers to braid reader’s hair after he sleeps over because of a storm.  

relationship: Rise!Donnie x GN reader

warnings: fluff, reader has long hair!

word count: ~930

A/N: ugh i always end up all mushy when writing soft donnie 🥺 also i made them a couple but still fresh, so they’re still shy. hope you like it!

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

– – – 

Donnie had initially come over to your place to show you one of his latest inventions. You were his beta tester for a lot of his (less dangerous) contraptions, and he valued your feedback. So of course he wanted you to test this one out as well and give him your review as usual. That day your schedule was packed though and didn’t really allow you to go to the sewers as it would be late already, so you decided it would be quicker if he came to your place instead.

After testing out the invention and giving him your honest review while he took notes on his pad, you walked to the window while he packed up his things. In the warmth of your apartment you hadn't even noticed how stormy it was outside. It was pouring heavily, the clouds dark and dangerous, hanging low in the sky. You could hear the thunder in the distance, getting louder as the time between lighting and thunder shortened with every strike.

You turned around to look at Donnie putting the last of his things in the duffel bag, closing the zipper. It wouldn’t be right to have him walk home in this storm. You had been dating for a couple of weeks now; it wouldn’t be weird to ask him to sleep here, right?

Donnie could sense your lingering look and tilted his head slightly, silently asking to speak your mind.

“It’s super harsh outside right now. Why don’t you just stay the night?” you asked, and he stood next to you to look out the window with a frown given the state of the flooding streets. 

“I’ll take you up on that offer, thanks.” he simply replied.

You went to your room to get some extra blankets and pillows, and he stood in the doorframe.

“I can take the couch-” he started, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder.

“No” you interrupted him, and he looked taken aback for a second. “We can both fit here” you explained, looking at your twin bed with a light blush, hugging the blanket you were holding a little closer to your chest. You really hoped you weren’t crossing a line with your comment and glanced back at him to gauge his reaction. He simply nodded ‘okay’, sheepishly scratching his neck, and left the room to let you change. 

Once you were in your PJs and he had taken off his battle shell, you both sat on the bed, not quite tired enough to sleep just yet. The way your heart was pounding in your chest you wouldn’t have been able to fall asleep anytime soon anyways.

For a moment you just looked at each other in the darkness of your room, only illuminated by the streetlights outside your window, and the little night light on your nightstand. As you undid the bun on your head, your hair cascading onto your shoulders, a lighting hit again. The light cast a sharp light from behind you for a split second, and Donnie found himself entranced at the sight, the image burned into his retinas. 

As your hair fell into your face, you blew it away with a huff, but it fell back, so you reached up to move away the annoying strand. But before your hand could reach it, Donnie’s found it first, brushing the hair behind your ear, then running his fingers through your hair, relishing in how soft and silky it felt against his skin. 

You had never seen him make such a face; even in the dim light you could make out the small smile and the soft, loving look in his eyes. Your breath hitched when his hand moved through your hair at the nape of your neck and you didn’t dare move, afraid of bursting the little bubble around you two in that moment. Seemingly lost in thought, Donnie spoke softly. 

“I can braid your hair for you” he blurted out and you raised your eyebrows in surprise. “I mean, only if you want.” He pulled back his hand and you immediately missed his touch. You didn’t even know he knew how to braid hair. You were delighted at the idea and agreed with a smile. 

Scooting over and turning around so you were sitting between his legs, you could feel his body warmth radiating off of him onto your back. After telling him there were some hair ties in the first drawer of your nightstand, you both sat in silence, just enjoying each others’ presence as he worked through your hair, ending up in two braids that sat low on your head so they wouldn’t bother you when you lied down. They weren’t perfectly symmetrical but in Donnie’s mind they looked good enough for his first try. Truth is, he had looked up a tutorial on YouTube earlier that week and practiced on some yarn, because he had noticed how you’d often shake your head or blow little huffs sideways to get the hair out of your face. He smiled to himself remembering the faces you make with those sideways blows; they were comically endearing.

Once he announced he was done with the braids and admired his handiwork, you carefully ran your hands over the braids, humming in approval. Suddenly his arms snaked around your waist and he pulled you back onto the bed with him, turning you both to the side so he was spooning you from behind. 

You thanked Donnie for the braids, and with a yawn you told him that he was free to stay over more often.

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [more info in my pinned post!] @hearteyedracoon, @maribatshipper, @whygz, @lovelylovelydreams, @o0-starboy-0o

[viacursecasting]

Sonadow Scenario #65

Hate.

Shadow could feel the hedgehog's burning gaze upon him as they waited at the lunch table for their comrades. He swore he could feel two holes singe his ebony fur.

Finally he sighed in frustration. "If you have something to say, spit it out already."

Sonic blinked, but then he swallowed. "Do you hate me?"

Shadow was slightly taken aback. "What?"

Sonic pursed his lips, mustering up his resolve. He said with a little more conviction, "Do you hate me?"

Shadow narrowed his eyes. "You really want to know?" After receiving a nod, he stated bluntly, "Yes, I do."

The hero felt a pang in his chest.

But before he could say anything, Shadow continued, "I hate how stupidly confident you are with your talents. I hate how cocky you get before charging headfirst into battle. I hate how you always put others' needs above your own. I hate how you always play the hero, sacrificing yourself for the sake of others. I hate how you constantly put yourself in the line of danger. I hate how you still stand despite taking a beating. I hate how you smile as if that will numb the pain."

His features softened ever so slightly. "I hate... how my heart races when I'm around you. I hate how I admire you even though I'm supposed to be the Ultimate Lifeform. I hate how my thoughts always lead back to you. But most of all..."

He moved so that their noses were an inch apart. His tone was low, like a lover sharing a secret:

"I hate how inviting your stupid lips look."

Sonic burned red to his shoulders. For once he was at a loss for words. "You... I—!"

Suddenly Amy appeared, tray full of Meh Burgers in tow, Tails and Knuckles at her heels with various drinks and condiments. "Hey boys, we're ba—"

The hedgehogs quickly put a mile between them, but not before Amy took note of how close they just were, and she grew giddy with excitement. "Oooh, what have we here?? A sultry exchange between two lovebirds, perhaps?"

Shadow sneered, "There's a bird indeed." He then flipped her off.

Amy gasped. "Not in front of Tails!" But the kit only laughed.

Knuckles regarded the sky. "What bird?"

~

That evening, Sonic wordlessly escorted Shadow back to his cave. The tension between them was palpable.

They stopped at the mouth of the abode. Shadow addressed the hero, though he didn't meet his gaze. "You needn't have accompanied me."

"I know..." Sonic replied, regarding him with shining emeralds. "But I wanted to."

Ugh. Shadow's stupid heart...!

"Listen," Sonic continued. "All those things you said... Did you really mean it?"

Shadow kept his gaze averted, giving an almost imperceptible nod.

Sonic smirked, moving daringly close. "All of it?"

Shadow instinctively stepped back, finding his back pressed against a rock wall. Still, he nodded once more.

Sonic put his palm against the wall, trapping him. He teasingly cocked his head, their muzzles perfectly positioned for a kiss. He asked under his breath, "Do they still look inviting?"

Shadow stole a glance, regretting everything. He uttered, "Achingly so."

Sonic rested a finger under that tan chin, a tantalizing touch. Their lips brushed when he spoke. "Shall I ease your pain?"

Shadow could no longer take the pounding in his ears. "Just get on with it you foo—mphm!"

Sonic did just that, diving in for a harsh lip-lock. He was pleased to hear that the lifeform was still vocal, and it prompted Sonic to taste his whines and sighs.

A delicacy.

Shadow melted, held upright by the hero's tongue and firm grip around his waist. He thought the ache of longing would cease, and while it did, now he ached for more of Sonic. More of his citrusy scent, of his satisfied moans, of his warm caress. He craned his neck to let the hero explore him deeper, and trembled when Sonic read his mind.

Sonic treated the lifeform like his last gulp of air. He couldn't explain why he wanted—needed this. Needed him. He knew he should have run as soon as he laid eyes on the lifeform, a bright neon sign of danger. But that only made him more enticing. Anyone who chased after such a threat had to be crazy.

And Sonic was booked into an asylum.

Shadow finally gave the hero's chest a gentle push, catching his breath.

Sonic wore a stupid grin, admiring the flush across the lifeform's muzzle, tracing his thumb along those swollen, abused lips. "You're cute, you know that?"

Shadow clutched his bandana to bring him in once more. "I hate you," he muttered.

Before resuming their kiss, Sonic chuckled, a melodious sound. "I hate you, too."

[fleur-de-violette]

Dad Reflexes

AO3

Summary:

“Nice dad reflexes!”

The words, from a nearby window, take Dick aback.

What does that man mean by dad reflexes?

Note:

The prompt was “dad reflexes”. I hope you’ll enjoy the story!

-

“What were you thinking?”

Damian, as expected, didn’t say anything, just looked away in that half shame half disdain way of his. Dick felt his blood boil. He needed to be able to trust Robin not to jump of a building without securing his line first. He had been there to catch him and cushion the fall with the cape but what about next time? He couldn’t even think about it.

“We’re going home,” he said.

That got a reaction out of his Robin. “But-”

“Don’t talk back to me! Get into the Batmobile!”

He immediately winced internally at his tone. He hated when his patience ran out. Thankfully, Damian responded well to orders. It was maybe the only thing he responded well to. The kid got into the car and just as Dick was ready to join him, he heard a laugh above him.

What now?

“Don’t be too harsh on him, kid is doing his best,” said a civilian from his window, a bottle of beer in his hand. Oh, good. He was getting unsolicited Robin raising advice from citizens, now. He wondered if Bruce had to deal with that kind of things too. “And, hey, I saw the fall,” the man continued. He did a cheer movement with his bottle. “Nice dad reflexes.”

Dick didn’t say anything to that, just went into the car. It was only alone in the bunker that the man’s words came back to him.

Nice dad reflexes

Damian was Bruce’s son. That much was obvious. Dick was nothing but a pitiful replacement for a guardian, for a Batman.

He couldn’t pretend to be Damian’s father. He wouldn’t replace Bruce.

But, deep down, he knew Bruce hadn’t replaced John Grayson. He was just something else, something between a brother, a mentor, and yes, a father.

“And for what,” he said to the empty room. “So, I could be orphaned twice?”

He wasn’t thinking right. He was tired.

Damian wasn’t his son.

Yet, why had he printed adoption papers then?

No, no, adoption papers were a different thing. Bruce had been his father long before the papers. They hadn’t changed anything. Not really. But he still remembered how he felt when he first held them, so maybe they had changed things.

He looked at the Batman suit in the case.

“Was it,” he asked, “was it that complicated for you as well?”

Batman doesn’t answer, but Dick wasn’t expecting him to. Even when he had been there, Bruce hadn’t been very talkative, after all.

[light-lanterne]

i haven't written a single word for this au, but please, if i may, allow me to ramble a little about demon!mike :]

story summary 🕊️

for context, in this story mike and will are sixteen and, whilst he does have a tormented past (because it's me and i always torture him), mike is far more innocent and cheerful than how i always portray him.

this story starts right after winter break, so mike and will have known each other for around a month by the time valentine's day rolls up. in that month, mike has been relentlessly pestering will and being his big goof ball self, always seeking to make will laugh and defending him from bullies and whatnot.

because of his upbringing, however, mike has a remarkably poor grasp of (human) social concepts and this translates as him being too harsh and shameless: he doesn't know he should be quiet in a library, eats with little care about etiquette, and he jokingly flirts with will even when they are out in public (it's the 90s in this story, so it's still not socially acceptable -_-)

all his knowledge about human society comes from books, often really old, and he always favoured fantasy so they never offered much in terms of civility. when he did learn something along those lines, it was always outdated so sometimes he will sound like a grandpa x.x hop even thinks he's a little victorian child who's been transported into their time somehow.

anyway, there's a lot he doesn't know about our world and thus, when he first gets asked if he has plans for valentine's day, he doesn't even know what that means and it's not like he can ask anyone, right? he must keep appearances and any human his age would know about this.

so he lies and later turns to books to investigate such a foreign concept and it is very late in the evening when someone knocks at the byers' door. being the closest to the entrance, will then goes to see who it is and is baffled to see mike standing there, all dishevelled like he just ran a mile, looking adorably nervous as he takes in his surroundings for this is the first time he's been at will's house.

getting over the surprise, will then asks what's up and mike is shifty and a little uncomfortable but then he gets over himself and merely asks

"will you be my valentine?"

and will is completely taken aback because no one's ever shown this much interest in him and even mike is usually a bit more subdued with his advances. so for him to be so direct,,, so sincere,,, it takes will by complete surprise and he doesn't even remember to reply until three minutes later, well after mike devolved into a rambly, apologetic mess.

eventually, he manages to say yes. mike cheers up, hugs him and leaves for the night. will reenters the house, giddy as he presses his back against the door and slides down to the floor with the biggest smile on his face because someone just asked him out. and not just anyone, mike did!

all is good

except,,,

well, mike's research about valentine's day was a little unconventional and whilst he did read it was mostly a romantic holiday, he also read it was about friendship and he and will are good friends, right? what better excuse to spend the day with his good friend will than valentine's day? :D

(he likes will, very much, but he genuinely just wanted to spend the day together as friends because he doesn't want to rush asking will out,,,)

[mushroommanchanterelle]

So I'm hurting REALLY bad and I missed class again right? I decided to write about it, but I'm taking a frustration break from Fault Lines. I ended up writing the single most defining moment for my character Trichtotherym Vitryat and his longtime friend and maybe also girlfriend Vyrska.

Heavy footsteps thud against the grassy ground, echoed by harsh breaths in rapid succession. Alone, a man runs through an open field, racing towards the towering trees surrounding the formerly placid meadow. Behind him rages a blazing inferno, heat and flame licking at a series of tents and wagons. Half-burnt flyers litter the ground, all bearing his face, his body, stood in a ring, scared senseless. Scared senseless he would be no longer. He bends over to pick one up once he passes the threshold of the looming, towering trees, oppressive and choking in their darkness. His eyes narrow, cat-like pupils now slits, adjusting to the newfound dark with ease.

“See the World’s Greatest Illusionist: Trichtotherym Takes The Stage,” he reiterates out loud, reading from the flyer. 

“The Circus Made Alive,” he reads, voice wavering. His eyes, one blue one steely gray, redden as tears well to the surface. 

“No longer…” he says, brushing a hand against the damaged paper. Cinders flake against the dense blue-gray fur covering his forearms. Trichtotherym falls to his knees, clutching the paper to his chest. He looks back at the burning mass of tents and charred bodies, the light from his crime barely visible from within the confines of his leafy sanctuary. He cradles his sole remaining possession in this life, a shiny, but heavily scratched silver flute. Tricky’s shaky hands pull the flute to his lips, and he slowly plays staccato note after note, a hollow imitation of his beloved jovial instrumentals. From the darkness surrounding him, a hand extends, a deep slate gray. A woman’s figure, tall, slim, and near obscured by dancing shadows, graces his vision.

“What have you done…?” Trichtotherym rasps, his voice barely audible. There was no response from the woman looming above him. He swats away the hand from his shoulder and looks up at her, eyes burning hotter than the fire outside.

“What have you done?!” he shouts, standing. All the fur on his partially scaled body raises on end, and behind him another inferno begins to blaze. Her perception of his body shifts until he grows to be near three times his size. This was, of course, all illusion. There was no fire between them, and he was still just barely standing a foot shorter than her. Still, to see such a meek and powerless man make such a fierce display took her aback.

“I… I wanted to help…”

“You killed them all!” He hisses, the feline

ears atop his head flicking and pinning back. Trichtotherym bares his teeth, his tail whipping back and forth as he leans into his snarl.

“You killed everyone I’ve ever loved. You 

killed my entire family!”

Tears prick the woman’s eyes.

“I thought you loved me too.”

“I do! I love you, I brought you into 

my heart and arms, and you kill my entire family to show the same?” 

“They hurt you…” She reaches out for him again, gently grabbing at his shoulder. Even now, the fabric was still damp and darkened with blood. He winces, turning away. 

“I deserved the lash… I ran away… I abandoned them after they did so much for me…”

“They put you to the lash for being abducted, Tricky… I couldn’t stand seeing it… I… I couldn’t… I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Vyrska, I appreciate your concern, but this doesn’t involve you… It never should have… My gods, they’re all dead…”

“The fire will make sure all the evidence is burned. You did a good job with it.”

She tries to offer a smile, gently rolling her thumb along a dry patch of his shirt, careful of the wounds.

“You say that as if I’ve done a good thing.”

“We won’t get caught.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“And we haven’t gotten caught yet.”

She smirks, almost prideful, but the light fades from her eyes as Tricky glares at her. Even standing as small as he did, his eyes burned with a fierce anger that she had never seen on him before.

“You’re struggling, and I’m not going to leave you. But Vyrska,” He gestures his flute towards her, “this is the last time this happens. You will NOT repeat this.”

“But…what if you get hurt again?”

Tricky doesn’t respond immediately. He stares into her eyes, thrashing his tail back and forth.

“You won’t do this again. You’re never going to listen to those thoughts again. I swear to you I won’t let you continue your path to become a monster.”

There was love behind that anger. Tears prick his eyes as his quiet voice echoes through the wood.

“Never again. Is that understood?”

Vyrska looks Trichtotherym over, examining his uncharacteristically hostile posture.

“Understood."

(This is the boy btw)

[typewriter83]

Look, I just wanna prepare you because this might be the longest feedback I eve did by now for your chapters.

First of all, I loved the🌶️🌶️, thank you.

Secondly, the dina and jesse thing got me intriged and I'm mad at jesse, and I'm trying not to be mad at dina too. In one second they were treating ellie so well and in the other, bang, harsh and silent treatment. I am suspicious that maybe dina had suffered some kind of uncomfortable thing from david, but why does they keep blaming ellie for that? She didn't asked to be invited for dinner, jesse was acusing her of associating herself with the pastor and I was like "? What's going on, what does he mean?". And also, I'm also trying to figure how ellie and joel's interaction (or at least the perspective of jesse about it) could have hurt dina that much. I mean, if that girl had ptsd from past trauma with some older man when she heard about them I get it, but seemed a little more than that, like it was personal. I felt as confused as ellie in this chapter. Everyone just treated like shit and there wasn't even an explanation from their part🫠

Also, the dinner scene. Man, I'm really curious about how can someone think "oh this pastor has some trauma, he would make such a good therapist😍" It's really laughable, maria is a bit crazy. All don't know how tommy feels about it. I mean, he said he thought that was a good idea, but maybe he said that just so maria wouldn't make him sleep on the couch tonight? Maybe, I don't know. Also, I know it's wrong to laugh about it, but is it just me or it is actually funny how maria is trying to heal ellie's trauma and will give her another trauma🤦🏼‍♀️the irony, my god. David is such a creep, yikes.

Also, I'm mad at joel. He has to come out later wirh a really good explanation to why the hell did he lie to ellie to hang out with that woman. Dude, I felt ellie's betrayal. I wanted to punch him when he was laughing and walking away grrr. I really want ellie and kenny causing some jealousy on joel, we will get that??? I want him to suffer too muahahaha.

Also, by the end of the chapter I wanted to put maria, tommy, joel, dina and jesse in a room and punch all of them. They all found a way to leave poor Ellie alone and without enough options of company. Mom and Dad wannabes scared her to a point she was practically running from their house, joel and dina suddently ditched her, joel- I won't even talk about him, I'm mad at him. Oh God I was hoping things would be head for david to reach out on his plans, but if everyone else don't cooperate, ellie might be an easy target because of damn loneliness.

Oh my, I’m always overwhelmed and flattered when any of y’all take this much of an interest in something I write. Let’s see if we can’t pick this apart and put it back together for you 😘

🌶️🌶️🤭 for about a year now, I’ve been pushing myself to write for a more mature audience. Honestly, I’m taken aback that anyone likes it - and I’m not saying that to be self deprecating, it’s still something I struggle with, but I’m kind of starting to enjoy it 🫣❤️‍🔥

Let’s take everyone we’ve met and interacted with and line them: Ellie, Joel, Tommy, Maria, Dina, Jesse, David. (Side note: I’m gonna be honest about Kenny - I threw him in there because he was fun from the last universe, and I wanted Jesse to have a male friend, he really serves no purpose at this point so, he’s just there) so, everyone we’ve met and toss them into the air and jumble them up because that’s where we are - right?

Not really - everything does line up, but you as the reader just can’t see it yet because you’re only seeing it from Ellie’s perspective. When you take a second look, if you so choose, and have that piece of knowledge, that this is all from Ellie’s POV then it’s going to be confusing and it’s going to be jumbled.

Remember: Tommy is stuck between a rock and a hard place with Maria and Joel. Maria actually is the nosy busy body that I make her out to be, but she also doesn’t have all the information she needs. Dina, Jesse, and Ellie are new friends, they haven’t built up their trust yet. Joel… don’t hate him too much. David… hate him as much as you think you should.

Plus, if I gave you everything, why would you come back for chapter 9? There’s a reason why I wrote it the way I did, and I can promise that everything you’re confused about - from the Ellie/Dina/Jesse interaction, to the dinner scene, to the Ellie/Jesse scene on the porch - even the Joel/Esther interaction will make sense in due time.

Also, spoiler alert, don’t be too mad at Joel - remember, we saw him from Ellie’s point of view. That’s all I’m gonna say on that.

Thank you so much for reading and leaving such a sweet, detailed analysis comment. D&C is up next, then we’ll come back to Jackson.

🫶🏻