#can't believe it all fit into one tumblr post

[noco7]

nocovember prompt 2

they’re in an arcade, and i changed my writing style in an ode to “A Concert for Twenty Fingers” a noco fic I read early into my noco obsession

It’s the 27th of June, 2009, and I’m in a lousy arcade, everything neon, loud, and overwhelming. "This one's for you babe," Cody repeats for the millionth time. There's a mini basketball in his hand, obnoxious red sunglasses perched on his head, and an unearned grin on his face.

Maybe I’d be appreciative if he hadn’t missed every shot he's taken.

I snort. "Unless your aim has magically gotten better, doubt it.”

Cody shoots. The basketball bounces off the rim and thuds against the cracked plastic base of the machine, rolling back down pathetically - like it too knows how futile it is. Cody scoops it back up. 

"Okay, maybe not that one. But this *next* one's for you babe," Cody promises again. 

I just let my arched eyebrows answer for me, and lean against the machine. You might be wondering why I’m here, and that’s a good question. I don’t like arcades. Which might seem odd, given my well-documented love for video games. But there’s a huge difference between playing a challenging game in the comfort of my own home with a fascinating and complex story, and spending a few miserable minutes playing one cheap tacky game after another, surrounded by chattering children and their screaming parents. So no thank you. The actual answer to the question is that my boyfriend dragged me here, and since I had chosen the last date location - a respectable library filled with soft lights and even softer sounds, it was now Cody’s turn. And of course, he would choose something as juvenile as an arcade. The only blessing was, and not to be unbearably cheesy, that Cody was here with me. It was entertaining to see him fail every game he tried, in a sort of America’s Funniest Home videos way. But even Cody’s slapstick humor had its limits. I’d gotten bored after his first five throws. Hopefully, this whole ordeal would end soon, and we could go back to better things, like making out. Hey, just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I’m not a teenage boy! But instead of doing anything fun like that, I was left tapping my foot, a spectator to failure. If I had been the one throwing the balls, it would have ended after the first missed throw. I don’t have much tolerance for my own failure. Which sounds a little perfectionist, but I’m far from being Courtney. I just know when to stop. Cody doesn’t. Yet, paradoxically, seeing my boyfriend fail almost made me want to try. It was probably the lack of real competition, I decided. Jocks, with their lean-and-mean dispositions and their unattainable strength, had always left me a little intimidated. But Cody, sweet pathetic, Cody was reassuring in his mediocrity.  No matter what the red SUPREME logo on his shirt says, there was practically nothing supreme about him. And that was comforting. Perhaps we could try this game again, and I might actually win something non-academic for the first time in my life.

Another miss, another thud. Cody’s grin falters, only to return as quick as it left. It’s good to know that my boyfriend isn’t completely oblivious to his own failure, but I can’t help but feel a little mournful. This is probably how it felt to see Icarus’s wings melt. He shoots again, and the kids walking past us laugh. I’m filled with the growing dread that I have gotten with a *loser*, and worse that people can tell. It’s not that I’m one of those pretentious twinks who set their sights high on the most alpha of men, and for all his flaws, Cody satisfied me well enough in that department - *but*, and this was a big one, it was something different when other people commented on it. I might be satisfied dating a wannabe, but it was another to have people *think* that it was the best I could do. And I know, I know, that when it came to worries, this was one of the most shallow, that I should be grateful to have a guy into me in the first place, let alone a cute one. Still, I stepped away from the machine, distancing myself. Another promise, the words faltering this time. Another miss. It’s as if Cody wasn’t aiming for the machine at all, but my heart. For a moment I consider if this is some pity play level of manipulation, and just as quickly I discard the thought. Cody isn’t the type. There are only a few seconds left. At this point, I’m not quite sure if Cody actually believes he can achieve something, or is just falling victim to the sunken-cost fallacy. The line between dumb optimism and stubborn determination is a bit blurry when it comes to my boyfriend.

Cody rubs the next basketball into his jacket, caressing it like a good-luck charm. As if that’s going to do anything.

I can’t bear to look. "I DID IT!"

I have only a millisecond to take it in, to recognize that satisfying swish sound for what it is, to realize that Cody has indeed ‘did it’, and then I’m being grabbed by Cody’s hands, my sides squeezed, enveloped in the warmth of success.

The sudden rush of happiness takes me off guard.

"Put me down!"

Cody beams at me, and I’m compelled to smile back. It’s hard not to give in to instincts, when, and forgive me dear readers once again for being corny, my boyfriend smiles with the force of the sun. Eventually, he puts me down though I could have used more time in the air.

"Congratulations,” I say. “You landed one shot and now you think you're LeBron. Should we get out the gatorade for you? Really celebrate the-" I look past him and at the scoreboard. "Three points you got? The top score is 54 by the way." I know I’m being mean, but I can’t help it. I can’t stay long in the garden of Eden, no matter how much I try.

Thankfully, Cody is used to it. "Yeah yeah,” he says, still high on glory. “Scoff all you want, but I still got the points. And *you* didn't."

"Because I wasn't trying." I point out.

"Miss every shot you don't take," Cody says, wagging a finger. "It's my personal motto."

I scoffed. "With your history, I think you could stand to take a little less shots." Gwen is a stunning example.

Cody frowns, but he doesn't say anything and for once, I choose not to elaborate. We’ve argued about Gwen too many times already, and it gets personal fast. Besides, we’re surrounded by people. If we argued about it here, we’d look like one of those couples, one month and already on the brink of divorce, so full of hatred that it seeps out of the private and into the public. I don’t want to be one of those people.

"You know," Cody says finally. "As your champion-"

"As my champion?" I echo. Champion? It was one shot.

"As your champion," Cody repeats, and that’s his stubbornness coming through as always, - "I think I should get a kiss." He waggles his eyebrows. "You know, as a reward."

"We're. In. Public." I say, gesturing at the space around us. It couldn't be clearer. Even if Cody was blind, which he wasn’t, it'd be hard to miss the demented chatter of children and their high-pitched screeches of laughter. I had to wonder if parents had stopped teaching their kids manners. The newer generation was truly lost.

"Riight," Cody says, and then he grabbed my wrist, steering me behind a nearby machine, and oh. It's darker here, where the neon lights can't reach, and it’s like the world has slipped away.

Cody's blue eyes meet mine. It’s hard for them not to, not in a space like this where there’s nothing else to look at, and there’s hardly any room between us.  "No one can see us here," he says, voice low, before his eyes dip even lower.

I feel like a virgin. I’m not, for your information. I’ve kissed guys and girls alike, and I’ve even kissed Cody a few times too, and yet butterflies still flap their wings in my stomach. It’s the taboo delight of doing something you shouldn’t, and I’m human enough to recognize it. 

"Okay," I said, my voice coming out more breathy than I liked. I darted forward to kiss my boyfriend, who rises up to meet me. Did I mention that he’s still shorter than me? Because I should. My boyfriend is a manlet, or as he prefers to call it, a ‘short-king’. But he proves his worth, his hands moving instantly to pull me close, clutching me tight as if I were planning to escape. But I’m not, and I don’t want to, not when his lips are pressing against mine, not when his hands are warm and roaming my body. My champion, indeed, I think.

Still. We’re in the middle of an arcade, so I break away before it can get too steamy. Cody pouts - like always, but I’m not going to give in. Unlike some people, I don't want to get charged with public indecency.

"When you think about it, I got three points,” Cody says, already leaning back in.  “So I should get three kisses, total. Just makes sense."

I give him my best unimpressed stare.

"It makes mathematical sense," he protests, flinging his arms out in dramatic flair, only to bang his hand on the back of the machine.  “Ow!” I snort. "And now you're going to say that you're injured, and I should kiss it better?"

Cody pauses. "I mean you said it, not me."

“The lighting must have gotten you confused Cody.” I roll my eyes. “This is an arcade, not a nightclub. We're here to play games, not play with each other."

Now it's his turn to laugh. "I mean you weren't playing much of anything back there. Come to think of it, you don't play most games at all. I mean remember the dodgeball?" "Be quiet." I hiss. Not the dodgeball episode. Not that stupid episode.

"Make me," Cody smirks. "With your mouth, preferably."

My boyfriend is a menace. Strike out dumb optimism, it was now sheer gall.

"I mean, you said I had no aim," he continues. "But I did get two girls out. And Harold didn't hit anyone with the ball, and he still-"

I kiss him just to shut him up, and I can feel Cody's smile against my mouth. Bastard.

"Keep talking,” I say, “and I'll never kiss you again."

"Yes sir!" Cody salutes.

Have to maintain order somehow.

"Can’t help trying to kiss my boyfriend whenever I get the chance. “ He smiles, showing off the gap between his teeth. “Sorry." Despite the cocky nature of the words, his look is a little too earnest for it to be some joke.

The sincerity makes me stumble over my own words. "I - I guess. Whatever." I avert my gaze, making sure he can’t see my cheeks, just in case they look less like normal human skin, and more like ripe tomatoes.  As if Cody needed any more proof that I liked him. And that made me doubly glad for the privacy of our dusty little nook - *no one* could tell. I didn’t need people thinking I was some blushing anime boy, or a tsundere, or anything else saccharine and banal that fangirls liked. As if! When I looked back up, I was met with Cody’s smile. "Whore,” I blurt out.

Cody chokes in laughter.

"Let's get back to playing those games," I state. Maintain order. I brush my hair out of my face and head back into the rest of the arcade. "Can't wait to spend fifty dollars in tokens to get three stickers and a temp tattoo of a mouse."

[aptericia]

Not proud to be here.

--

Ok, here goes draft like 5 of this fucking post. I spent 4 hours tossing and turning in bed last night thinking about this, and then this morning I found a tumblr post that really helped me understand what I was trying to say.

The post talks about how aromantic "advocates" claim that "aros don't take up resources, so there's no reason not to include them!" And if that's actually what people believe, I think I can finally articulate why it is that I feel so alienated in queer spaces.

It's because aspecs in general aren't "welcomed" by much of the queer community. We're tolerated. We perhaps get the luxury of not being contradicted on our own identities, or not being specifically kicked out of LGBTQ-only spaces, but that's the whole point: what we get out of the queer "community" is people NOT doing things, not actually doing things FOR us. And that, frankly, is not enough. We deserve conversations about us. We deserve to have others consider our feelings, even when making lighthearted jokes. We deserve varied, respectful representation in media. We deserve the active deconstruction of amatonormativity in society. We deserve to have space made for us, rather than at most being told we should "go take up more space!" ourselves.

Of course, the reality is that my being aspec is a personal matter that does not inherently affect anyone else. But the same can be said for literally any queer identity. Your being gay doesn't say anything about me, so of course I shouldn't hurt you for it, but why should I help you either? Because your happiness and comfort are important. The same goes for aspecs.

And most of the time, I don't even need anyone to make space for or expend resources on me; I can live fine in everyday, non-queer-specific places without mentioning my identity at all. But it's the queer community that claims it will make that space for me, doesn't, and then acts defensive and morally pure if I call out the hypocrisy because "we're queer too, you can't erase our identities to advocate for yours!!!!"

Again, this post isn't about specifics. I have queer friends who are incredibly thoughtful and supportive about my identity, just as I have non-queer friends who are. I find more solidarity in aspec-only communities, as well as trans/genderqueer ones, although there are still many exceptions. This post is also not about amatonormative ideology, which is extremely common from queer and non-queer people alike. This post is about the reason I've felt so betrayed by the queer community.

--

On a personal note, I remember being so excited when I started identifying as aromantic (and later asexual). Fitting myself into labels has been a lifelong struggle for me; to this day I still can't confidently say if I'm White or PoC, neurotypical or neurodivergent, abled or disabled, cisgender or not cisgender. I continue to struggle making friends because I don't fall into social cliques. To discover that I officially, certainly, was LGBTQ+ lifted a huge weight off my shoulders. And now I'm just so sad to find that despite that, I'm still stuck in the middle. I didn't get rewarded with a community. I still feel alienated from both queer and non-queer people. I know it was silly to get my hopes up when there's such vast diversity in both groups, but it really was a disappointment. Going to my first Pride parade last year was really the moment where I realized this.

[liaswills]

Pick a card: What does this person want to say to you? ❤️

Good evening lovely darlings! I'm back with another Tumblr Tarot post- for the delusional girlies, this is another What would this person want to say to you? Particularly love focused! This could be a message from a S/O- or F/s/o or perhaps even a f/o! Depending on your degree of delulu, ofcourse. :)

Pick a pile! Use the pics underneath or go based on intuition. Thankyou! ❤️

Oh, love of mine. What wonders there are to be found when you look into my eyes. This is all poetic, truly, but in my soul, the deepest parts of it, I know that you'll still be hoping to come back to me. It is the way things are. I can't change it- even if I wanted to. I watch you. I see you. I hope you know I do believe in you- I love you. When I see tears on your cheeks, streaking like some porcelain beauty, some victorian soul, gauging at what is left of me, gauging at what the eye cannot see, I long to hold your hand, softly press a kiss to it and tell you all I have seen in you that you do not see. I would take you to my favourite spot, walk the whole way just to talk to you, I would tell you what I have been wanting to let you know- that no matter where I am, or what you do, or who we are, in our very souls, we are always one and the same. We are alike. Perhaps in spirit, personality, or maybe just in how we devote ourselves to spirituality, or God, but I know that I am yours if you will be mine. But you haven't been coming to me. You don't want to be mine yet. I know you think you do- but you're not ready for this. Neither am I. I have found myself trying to build what was left- to build a new. I have found I wanted to incorporate more of the old into my new life and therefore I am struggling to find my way to you- it will show some day but I will make time free. Free time for you. I promise you this. I fear some day, you may leave me entirely. Yet even when this happens, I'm but a cinder. I'm but a memory. A distant person you once knew. Distant eyes you once reflected upon, talked to, listened to, hoped for, wished and yearned. I'll not be the same because you won't either. We grow with one another. Tell me you love me. I need to know this. I need you to tell it straight to my face, to my memory, to my thought, to my soul, just think it. Think, say, breathe it. I will know when you do. Thank you for thinking of me today, I appreciate it.

You'll always be my true love, you know? ❤️

It's in his kiss, that's where it is. You can feel when I love you truly, baby, because I would kiss you like you've never felt before. I'd go as slow as you want, as sensual as I could ever be, as loving as I could try, I would do it for you. I know we don't know each other that well yet. We are new. But even if you know me for a long time, this feeling is new. We haven't been together before- not in other lives. I haven't loved you yet. This is new to me. I think we would fit together.... I am confused about it however. I'm not really sure what I want. I know, I am indecisive. But with you- it does feel right, it does feel... like I am a child again kissing his first crush. It feels this way- which is why I think it's important that we continue to communicate, about what you want, about what I want... it'll make this easier because I can't smell what is on your mind. I can sense your feelings, I am very empathic, but I don't know what you're thinking. And I have the feeling you're led by your thoughts, just as I am. We are horrible in listening to ourselves. Perhaps, I am better at giving you advice than I am for myself but in truth, it should be me who has to do the work and approach you, romance you, love you, not the other way around. You're so kind to me- this bamboozles the shit out of me because I am not technically seen as an approachable nice person, so your energy it really confuses me for that reason. Am I not repulsive? Do you not... want to run away from me? You're making my bad thoughts about myself resurface and dissolve all the same. When I think or look at you, even for a second, I just know that I am looking at something good. I know this is something to be cherished. Can I trust my own feeling however? I'm not too sure. I want you to know this. Just to make some clarification about where I am right now. I am not trying to push you away- nor do I want you gone AT ALL I need you and I want you by my side but I am just a torn up dunderhead. Forgive me?

"She's one of my favourite things." This is what I say when people ask about you. Hm, yes, I know. From me? You're surprised. I know some days you may think I don't know you, or don't like you, but I do, I like you a lot. You're my princess, in any fairytale that exists. And the divine to my subservient self. I'd worship you. Cherish you. Because, I know, that for you not to leave me, I have to step up and treat you well. I will be forthcoming, I will be consistent, and I will try to make your life as much of a priority as I will mine. It's not black and grey with me. It's quite clear with me. I want you to be mine. I need to marry you- some day or now. I do not care when. That's how serious I am. That's how real this feels for me. I don't need to figure this out by a 10 hour astrology research to compare my charts to yours. I don't need to figure out via a deity about what time you're going to call or text. I need to know just one thing- and that is that I can trust my feelings. I want you to trust yours. If you do- if you do feel for me, If you do cherish me, or even like me, or god above, if you even love me, if you could, that you won't break it hard on me. Do it gently. Tell me how you love me, and when you leave me, so I know it's easier. If you ever leave me, I would try to have you one more day. I really would. Not in spite or because I want some silly disgusting energy break up sex but because...I would just want to look at you, once more, see you, breathe you, just touch your hand perhaps, or even your hair, to just sit there and tell you nothing or a lot. But I wouldn't ever try to hurt you, I will never try to do this I just hope... perhaps... that you won't hurt me, all right? Can you do this for me? Can you do everything gently? (Except the sex, I don't need it to be gentle ok) but you get what I mean. My heart, my feelings, are much more tender than I can confess. I may look tough. I may be someone you think is tough- perhaps I am, maybe I am also that, but one word of you can silence me forever. Trust on that. So use your words well with me, it'll be better for both of us. Don't you think? I love you. ❤️

God speed your love to me. You thought this was going to be the romantic pile, didn't you? Hahahaha! Bitch please! I am your worst nightmare. Just kidding, I am just incapable of showing you the love you so desire and dream of. What is it with you and me? You like me obsessively. Trust me, your guides and I have been chatting away for a bit and you're.... well, let's just say, you're at wits end about me, aren't you darling? Hehe. I like when you're mad. Some days, I just think how lovely it would be if you'd be in my arms and I could just... have a peek at that lovely chest of yours. Too dirty? I understand. You think I'm a pervert. Honestly, darling, I do too. That's what I hide behind, mostly, truthfully, I'm disgusting myself sometimes, especially during those solo hours. You don't want to believe the things I've thought about you- oh my god. If my life's work and thoughts would ever get published, it would be the biggest event of all lifetime. The world would stop. The M25 would be in a traffic jam all fucking year- don't know why, but it would, wouldn't it? Say, I know you from somewhere... that's what I always say, I always begin with that. And then, I would transgress your interest and I would try and lure you into thinking of me. And when you're thinking of me, I am thinking of how you're hopelessly and desperately thinking of me and then I'll- you know, get creative thinking of you. Honey, what am I to you? Though? Like- can we be real? Am I your friend? Your lover? Your nemesis? Your teacher? Your mentor? What the fuck are we? I am so confused ! 🤣 You say things that literally bolder me off the side of the road and throw me right into the cut. Like can we pretend that for one day, you and I aren't you and I and then we can be delusional together in our own little world? You'd like that right? Well, I would too. I need to escape whatever the hell this is, or this life is, and then we can get coffee and a drink or two and you can tell me what we're going to do about this, about us, because I can't stop thinking how we are going to solve this or do this or just... how. Hm :) You look good. Just wanted to say that. Take some medicine when you feel bad, especially cramps. Take good care of yourself. I could write to you forever- know that. You can reach out to me.

[graysturns]

𝕗𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕞 | 𝕞.𝕤.

note: hey guys this is my first time posting my actual work and i’m kinda new to tumblr so pls be nice or i will cry ok thanks bye

warnings: idk smut ig

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"babe please hurry up, we're already running late," matt sighs as he shuts the car door.

"i just need to get some shorts or something, i can't show up to your mom's house in these jeans, look at this" i lift the sweater wrapped around my waist, revealing the rip around my inner thigh.

he rolls his eyes and sulks behind me as we make our way inside the old navy in our hometown. i begin to scan the various women's clothing, looking for something basic, because it's too late to go back home and figure out a new outfit.

"will you hurry up and pick one? please, y/n. chris is texting me wondering where we are. they want to start eating without us and he's most definitely gonna eat all the mac and cheese."

i roll my eyes at him. "first of all, never call me by my government name. rude. and second, we just got here, breathe. we wouldn't be here if you hadn't grabbed my ass so harshly when we stopped at the gas station. you caused this by manhandling me, matthew." i shot back.

he sighs again as i grab a few different options in my size and head towards the fitting rooms. upon arrival, we notice there aren't any employees so i pick a stall and wave matt into the small room.

he looks up at me, then around at our surroundings, "are you sure? i don't think they allow multiple people in at once, i'll just wait here."

i roll my eyes again. "matthew! get in here! i need your opinion. this store is basically empty anyways. it's not a big deal, you've seen me naked before. let's not act so innocent."

he follows me in and takes a seat on the bench facing the door. i untie the sweater he lent me and throw it at his face. "rude!" he exclaims sassily, throwing the wad of clothing to the ground.

"uhm, excuse me, you're rude. you're the whole reason we're in this mess." i begin to remove the ripped pair of pants and pull a new one off its hanger.

facing the mirror on the door, i begin to pull the pair of mom jeans on before matt looks up from his phone and stops me.

"baby, i've never seen these panties on you before, are they new?" he smirks at me. i nod, swatting at his hands.

"wait stop, they're super cute, why haven't you shown me?" he looks up at me with those hypnotic blue eyes, brows furrowed.

i turn around, with the jeans still around my ankles and my hands on my hips. "do i need to inform you every time i purchase a new article of clothing, matt? it's just panties."

he wiggles his eyebrows at me, "when they make your ass look like that, then yeah, i must be notified immediately." he places me onto his lap, pulling the jeans all the way off my ankles so i can straddle him.

"baby we're running late, you're the one who keeps insisting, as much as i want to, we don't have time to fool around" i say to him between the open-mouthed kisses he begins to place on my neck.

he starts to take my top off, then gasps. "fuck the mac and cheese! it's a matching set, now i really can't believe you kept this from me." he drools at the sight of the lacy see-through bra, rubbing his thumb over my visible nipple. he yanks down the thin fabric, causing my boobs to spill over. with one arm wrapped around me, clutching my ass, he uses the other to massage my breast, all while kissing my neck. i feel myself starting to give in, biting my lip to stifle a moan. "matt, i-i don't think we can do this here." i slightly protest, but he reaches up to kiss me, and bites my bottom lip.

i'm done for.

he's kissing and grabbing and rubbing all over me and i'm a mess. i can never say no to him, he knows how to manipulate my body to want exactly what he wants. i can feel his bulge through his jeans, and i grind on it slowly, making my clit throb against it.

suddenly, he lifts me and flips me around so im sat on his lap, and we're both facing the mirror. he's unbuckling his belt, then his pants. he wraps one arm around my waist and lifts me slightly while he pulls down his pants and boxers, revealing his dick, standing tall and proud.

he makes eye contact with me in the mirror and grabs my face, smushing my cheeks together, and whispers in my ear, "i want you to watch baby, watch how good you can take my whole dick inside of you, pay real close attention."

he smirks at my widened eyes, and moves the panties to one side, rubbing the wetness all around and then on my clit.

"you normally get to scream all you want, but not this time baby, okay? you need to be really really quiet for me, got it?" he covers my mouth.

i nod quickly, and without warning, he picks me up and thrusts his entire length into me. i hold back a scream, and i feel tears falling down my cheeks. no matter how many times, how long we've been together, i'll never be used to his size.

he gives me a second to adjust, and then begins to pound into me over and over again, my back sliding up and down his clothed chest. i'm watching as my breasts bounce up and down and his dick glides in and out, in and out. he uncovers my mouth, keeping one hand on my waist, and starts to rub circles on my clit with the pad of his thumb, making me roll my eyes back further in pleasure.

he begins to nibble on my ear, then moves down to suck the spot right underneath. as he kisses down, i feel him bite down on my shoulder to suppress a moan.

"matthew!" i hiss at the pain, but it feels so good.

"shh!" he pinches my nipple, causing me to let out a whimper.

i grab his wrist, stopping his movement, and smile at him, "my turn." i bend down slightly, still facing the mirror so he has a full view of my ass while i bounce on his dick. he presses down on my back, sliding his hand down to secure a firm grip on my neck. he curses under his breath, trying hard not to make any noise while i'm aggressively riding him. he places both hands on my ass grasping and slapping occasionally, until i sit back up and we're making eye contact in the reflection. he's rubbing on my clit again, using his other hand to massage my left breast and i can feel a knot forming in my abdomen.

i turn around so i'm straddling him, and continue to bounce up and down. he grabs me by my throat and kisses me roughly, before planting a hard slap on my ass. i move faster, and he groans, grasping my ass tighter, leaving hand-shaped bruises for him to stare at later.

"i'm almost there baby. fuck, you're the most beautiful thing i've ever laid my eyes on." he whispers in my ear and i close my eyes, feeling my climax creeping close.

we start moving in sync, until my legs shake, and i feel his dick twitch, then shoot his load into me, causing me to finish as well, leaving me trembling on his lap. i drop my head forward onto his shoulder, desperately trying to catch my breath

he wraps his arms around my shoulders, kissing the side of my head. "wow, what we just did was probably super illegal, " i laugh at his comment, but then frown when i realize what we've done.

"fucking hell, matt. we can't buy pants now, i feel too awkward going up to the register after we've been in this fitting room for so long, they probably know what we've been doing!" i cover my face with my hands.

"baby that's alright," he grabs my wrists, pulling my hands away from my face. "just put your clothes back on, we'll go back to the car, and you can just borrow some sweats when we get home."

i stare at him, mouth gaping in realization. "are you serious? we could've just done that in the first place! i'm so dumb, why didn't i think of that?"

he stands and helps me put my shirt on, followed by the ripped jeans, "it's alright y/n, i didn't think of it either. let's go home, i'm starving." he smiles at me, rubbing small circles on my back.

"i love you, matt" i look up at him, with red cheeks, wondering how i'm going to leave this dressing room with any dignity.

"i love you. don't worry, i know what you're thinking. just hold my hand and we'll walk back to the car, c'mon." he laces our fingers together and kisses me on the forehead, unlocking the door and stepping out of the changing room.

luckily enough, nobody seemed to even notice us weaving through the aisles and exiting the store. we managed to get back in matt's car without a single interruption, and soon after arriving at his house, where chris had demolished the entire dish of mac and cheese.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

ahh can’t believe i’m posting this but fuck it we ball

to be added to taglist comment here

[andy-wm]

i'm wondering how your thesis of "idols will come out when they want" fits into your insane shadow analysis attempting to prove jimin and jungkook fucked in the middle of their travel show (amongst other things)? like do you get joy out or trying to drag someone out of a closet they might not be in? or is it something else? just curious! 😀

Hey wdcmaxy

Since you have the guts to use your name I'll respond :)

So, you read my thesis?

*Sips whisky*

Cool. And you read my insane shadow analysis too?

Hmmm... do you come here often?

Let me answer your question then.

I think we both know the shadows analysis isn't really insane - it's based on very basic earth science. Shadows grow longer as the day progresses because of the rotation of the earth on its axis. You sound reasonably literate so i assume you know this already.

I guess your description of my shadow analysis ( I think I'll name my next racehorse 'Shadow Analysis') as insane is an attempt to discredit the idea that a fair bit of time passed while Tae was out of the house? But that was kinda silly on your part. Even children know that shadows change as the day passes.

Nothing insane about it.

He was gone for hours, no debate.

Now let's move on to the fucking part, and when and how idols choose to come out.

This is actually worth discussing.

As flattered as i am that you think my tiny insignificant blog could be a game changer for anyone, let's be real.

How many people, besides yourself, do you think read my blog?

Serious question.

I'm estimating maybe 100. Double that on a good day. Maybe 300 if i write something REALLY profound which doesn't happen often.

I am way less excited about my impact on the world than you are, because I'm a realist.

BUT if by some strange twist of fate my blog came to the attention of someone whose opinion mattered (I'm not counting you, don't worry) do you think they would take it seriously? Do you REALLY imagine a random tumblr post about shadows could make someone believe that an idol was gay if they didn't already believe it?

Here's a great example of how that wouldn't happen:

You, dear reader.

You're my example.

You came here to tell me I'm speaking shit and that I should pull my head in, correct? My insane shadow analysis hasn't changed your beliefs at all. You're here, throwing a tantrum on my page, because you don't agree with what I'm saying, not because you suddenly believe it.

Or ...

Perhaps you suspect it's true and that scares you. Maybe you can't be absolutely sure I'm wrong and that's why you need to yell at me? Could that be it? Time for a bit of self reflection?

Either way, it's not going to make an iota of difference in the grand scheme of things.

We are all just dust motes floating through time and space, my friend. You dont need to worry so much. The universe is unfolding exactly as intended.

However... There are a couple of things we should agree on:

The fact is that the shadows grew long and therefore, time passed. And Tae was out for several hours. Maybe he went out for a bit of afternoon delight himself? Maybe Jimin and Jungkook played Pokemon Go all afternoon, or prayed, or practiced their English, or braided each other's hair.

Regardless of whether they did or didn't fuck, or how many times, or on what surfaces, the time still passed.

And whether I write my blog or not, people will believe what they believe. And they will be gay or they won't be gay.

And even though I never mentioned anything about them fucking in that post, whether you like it or not Jimin and Jungkook might be fucking right now, as you read this.

One last thing...

Please bear in mind, through all of this, that fucking is not the be all and end all of life. Sure its a lot of fun if you do it right but the notion that it's more meaningful than sharing your innermost thoughts and feelings, or giving someone your time and energy, is bullshit.

You can have a roots-deep love for someone and never even think of fucking them. Or you can meet someone in a public toilet and have at it, and leave without even knowing their name.

Sex does not equal love. Fucking is not that big of a big deal.

Unless...

Unless you're fucking someone the patriarchy doesn't want you to fuck. Then its a major issue.

Hear me out.

The need to control who we fuck is based a patriarchal need to control material wealth.

To control material wealth, the patriarchy needs to control reproduction (so they can be sure their wealth stays with their bloodline, because wealth is built over many generations) and to do THAT they need to control womens' bodies.... and to do that, of course they need to control who women fuck. And who men fuck too!

Do you know what the ACTUAL issue is with men who like dick? They don't automatically buy into the patriarchal way of life. (where's the solidarity, lads?)

Why don't they?

Because lifelong monogamy and marriage and nuclear families don't matter as much when you're not equating love with sex, and sex with reproduction. When your goal isn't to accumulate wealth and pass it down to your children.

Same thing applies to women who love women. They aren't focused on being demure and pleasing the men in power. They aren't focused on making themselves wife material. They will challenge the status quo and maybe even (shock! horror!) decide not to have children. How the heck do you make sure your money and power stays in the family, how do you build an empire, when the women are perfectly happy having sex with each other and don't want to love, honour and obey??

And whose fault is all this?

Its got to be the damned queers, right? They're making people think there might be other ways to share your life with those you care about! That's why its important to squash down gayness whenever you can, right, wdcmaxy?

Look at them destroying the fabric of society!

If Jimin and Jungkook ARE fucking every chance they get, good for them. I hope they're balls deep and breathless, hitting all those sweet spots for each other having a really good time.

And if they're not fucking, it actually doesn't matter to me because the way they support each other and share their hearts is beautiful. (I do think they are fucking though)

Truthfully, whatever they're doing, as long as they're happy I'm happy.

Can you say the same, wdcmaxy?

Peace.

[strelitzia-mystery1097]

What killed Macaque?

Well I was going to link my first post about this but I... can't find it. Like I checked over and over and tumblr keeps telling me I made no post about lmk which... is weird. I don't know if it was deleted or it's buried in the internet but that's... fine. Just kind of annoying that I can't find my own post.

Anyways I guess I should recap.

I have never liked the theories of 'Wukong didn't actually kill Macaque' or 'LBD changed Macaque's memories' or anything like that.

But also don't like when everything is blamed on Wukong and those Wukong haters and/or Macaque 'did nothing wrong' fans paint the whole situation as solely Wukong's fault.

Did Wukong make bad choices and mistakes. Yes.

But so did Macaque.

Their fallout is both their faults.

Macaque from season 4 is able to understand that the Brotherhood were on a path of destruction and were doomed but the Monk was able to lead Wukong down a different path.

But remember we saw in the scroll that the Brotherhood during the jttw believed that Wuking was a traitor and it was only Macaque not fully 100% believing it.

We know in the og jttw Macaque was less of his own character and more of a dark reflection of Wukong. But even then we shouldn't dismiss entirely what jttw Macaque did (except for cooking a Flower Fruit Mountain monkey because I think lmk would not make Macaque be so friendly with the FFM monkeys if that was canon in lmk).

Jttw Macaque impersonated Wukong, beat up the Monk, stole the group's supplies, took over Flower Fruit Mountain, declared that he was going to do the journey with the scriptures himself, and then got into a really long fight with the real Wukong and literally like only 2 people were able to tell who's the real one (Budda and like this lie detecting bull from the underworld?), and when Budda reveals Macaque's true form Wukong kills him.

So clearly some things will be different.

But I do believe that lmk Macaque would pretend to be Wukong and would try to befriend the Monk like in the jttw. Because Macaque at this point would try and figure out what's going on.

The last time he talked to the Monkey King they had a fight. So that's probably why he just doesn't ask Wukong directly.

Also we should probably account for how emotional and potentially unstable Macaque probably is at this point if his best friend is back and working for the enemy for some reason.

So he tries to figure out that reason. But the thing is that when Macaque pretends to Wukong, it's after a major fight between Wukong and the Monk so the kind Tang Sanzang is just not wanting to deal with Wukong even after he's being nice.

So all Macaque sees is this rude and mean Monk that bosses Wukong around. So yeah he beats the $hit out of this ungrateful Monk.

Plus he would extra angry if he knows about how the Monk uses the Circlet on Sukong and hurts his best friend to discipline him.

Then cut to Wukong finally fighting Macaque.

Wukong has learned to be better and is probably seeing how the Brotherhood and his past deeds were not great, and Macaque was a part of that past.

Macaque is probably extremely upset that Wukong is taking the Monk's side and is just abandoning and leaving him again. No it's worst, he's turning on Macaque to stop him.

So this fight is probably extremely emotionally harrowing, with both of them not communicating and just having breakdowns and/or shoving down their true wants.

I mean in season 5 from the glimpse we see of the fight, Wukong is begging Macaque to not do this while Macaque is just laughing. So yeah he's probably have a complete breakdown and is hiding it under his dramatic b%tch persona he perfects after his revival to not be vulnerable.

One way this could end is Wukong accidently killing Macaque in a fit of rage or to protect his new family. Instead of killing his dark reflection he's killing his past.

But I also saw this interesting theory by @Cherllyio where Macaque's weird probably chaos related powers + him losing control of himself and his emotions while having a breakdown = Macaque self destructing literally.

I definitely hope that whatever the answer ends up being, that it's a situation where there's blame on both sides. That it was a messy situation and there's regret and pain (sudden LBD flash) but now if they wanted to, the two can finally... talk.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Does the serum make Steve…. louder? Like his lung capacity is obviously more than the average. Did his vocal cords get super soldier-ed too?

Of course, that would mean that Bucky would have to gag him when they have sex. Especially the marathon, sweaty, desperate, edging, kind of sex where Steve just loses all control over his volume because he can’t even hear how loud he’s being over the the sound of his own blood pumping straight to his cock.

They have all kinds of gags so Bucky can control how loud he wants Steve to be since Steve can’t. Maybe even one that looks like the Winter Soldier mask.

Holy shit, I love this idea.

Even if lung capacity and/or vocal chord strength doesn't equate to volume in any meaningful way, my answer to this ask is fucking YES.

YES.

Yes, simply for the fact that I fucking love vocal partners. Major knee-buckling, weak spot for me. So, there's no way I can resist a louder Steve post-serum. Louder and more sensitive, which is just... irresistible 😮‍💨😮‍💨

This got out of hand, I'm supposed to be doing homework, not writing filth on Tumblr, lmao

And the mention of gags alongside the vocal-nature of this makes me think of this fic:

"Day 18: Leather/Latex" by hannahrhen

Anyway--

I can not get my mind off of vocal top Steve. There's 🤌🏻something about him🤌🏻

Imagine him, on top of Bucky, pressing him into the mattress with all his strength--back muscles rippling, so slim to so broad from his hips to his shoulders that it looks impossible, making your eyes almost roll back, just staring, his ass round and biteable, his thighs flexing, his dick putting in work, carving out space for himself inside Bucky.

Steve's shaking and sweating as his hips thrust, his movements so well practiced--fluid, but deep and hard, too. It's intense as fuck. Just how Bucky likes it. Feels so good.

And, God, the rhythm is more than enough to leave Steve's blonde hair hanging over his forehead, mused and sex-ruffled. He's glowing sweat, misted like a fucking Greek God, but so, so much better than pale, white marble he's pink and feverish, his heart pulsing wildly in his chest all the way down to his devastatingly hard dick.

His heart racing and racing as he pants with his mouth open, groaning lowly when Bucky clenches down on his thick cock hard, it makes Steve insane, so tight, he can't believe he fits inside his little hole, whimpering when Bucky tells him faster, faster, oh, ah, ah, ah, yes!, moaning right in Bucky's ear when Steve stops pinning his wrists to the bed, shifting to grab his shoulders and really pound him instead, and Bucky's hands grab at him greedily, wanting to feel his muscles work as he fucks him, pulling him down. He fucks him good and hard, using all his bulk to make Bucky fucking take it.

When he moans like that in his ear, making him crazy with want, Bucky might try to tilt his head to the side, panting just as hard, breath humid and thick, gasping for just a little oxygen between their mouths, begging for a sloppy, filthy kiss but Steve can't lock lips. He can't stop making sounds. The best he can do is moan right into his mouth.

It's so hot. The sounds.

The noises.

Gasping. Whining. Moaning. Panting. Groaning.

All these obscene sounds that mix intoxicatingly with the harsh, wet sound of their bodies colliding. Steve is fucking him hard. And it feels so good. It lights Bucky up--he's only dry kindling and Steve is a match, the friction between them lights them both. Flames lapping at their skin. Soon enough, it's hot enough to crackle and spread, and they're taking down the whole forest. Ignited. Unable to stop. Not when Steve sounds like that. Not when he moves like that, making Bucky see nothing but white-hot sparks.

Pleasured so good, Bucky can bite his tongue, groaning softly and panting and swearing under his labored breath as Steve lays into him like he wants him dead, pounding his prostate until he feels like he might burst, all this pleasure rushing like painful, aching, glorious, intense static through his veins. Steve can't bite his tongue, though.

Steve can't shut his fucking mouth.

Bucky loves it. He's so loud. When it's not mind meltingly hot to hear every hit of pleasure that he takes, it's hilarious because it's so goddamn inconvenient. As much as Bucky might want to bitch and moan about it, complaining that they'll never be able to have a quickie in some closet or bathroom or back of the car because they'll be found out immediately with Steve wailing like that... the moment he starts to feel irritated, he'll twitch or clench or grab, and Steve will just let out the most guttural, wanting sound at the perfect moment, leaving Bucky snickering. Combing a hand through his hair, cooing at his big, dumb, fucked-out face. Mouth-open moaning.

Yeah, Bucky's best guy is loud.

So, even when Bucky manages to reach up, muscles trembling as he goes boneless on Steve's dick, to jam a few fingers between his gaping, swollen lips... Steve's hardly muffled. He's distracted, sure, licking, tonguing, and slurping around his fingers as if they're his dick, but he's moaning too. He's moaning more. That part of Bucky's body in his mouth. How could it not be good? How could it not make his lungs punch out a sound of desire? Lust thick inside him.

Guh.

He's hot and wet and drooling around Bucky's fingers and not any fucking quieter. He might be louder, Jesus Christ.

Naturally, then, it escalates.

If fingers won't do it, what will? How can Bucky get Steve to a reasonable goddamn volume when they fuck? What about Bucky's underwear, literally ripped off of his body in impatience and now an otherwise useless scrap of fabric, stuffed into his mouth? What about Steve's own underwear? There's no difference, really, Bucky just wants it. How about the bottom hem of Steve's sweatshirt, pushed up and shoved between his teeth, giving Bucky an eye-crossing view of his clenching belly and bouncing tits as he fucks him? A ball gag? Bit gags (again, because Bucky wants it, Steve wants it, there's no reason why it would keep Steve's volume down when a ball doesn't, no matter how fat the intrusion is)? A scarf tied around the back of his head? A panel gag? A thick belt doubled over and pushed between drool-glistening lips? A strip of shiny tape slapped over his full, plush lips that leaves a red mark around his mouth like smeared lipstick when they're done, and Bucky tears it off of him? An inflatable gag that Bucky can pump more and more until Steve is whimpering about the fullness and stretch while he's pumping Bucky full?

What will it fucking take? And why is it so hot, the length they have to go to just to make sure that nobody interrupts them with how loose Steve's lips are. All whiny and needy, despite how Steve fucks like a champ. He sounds like he should be the one getting pounded into the mattress (or couch, or wall, or shoulder wall, or... yeah.)

What will it fucking take?

A muzzle?

Bucky jokes. It's a half serious suggestion while they have lazy, post-mission sex that is absolutely better than the sex anyone else is having when they're not exhausted and at the top of their game, thank you very much. Their uniforms are half on, on the way to getting suspicious stains, half revealing dirty, bruised skin--just enough to whip it out and to take it.

Steve is hesitant at first, considering their history with muzzles. He doesn't know if he could stand to do it. Especially if it's a full muzzle that covers the bottom of his face like what the soldier wore. But, later, when they're toweling off after their post-lazy-sex, lazy-shower-sex... the moment Bucky gives him that lazy, charming grin, popping his dimples, and drawls richly about the pleasure of taking the power back, feeling the reins in his own hands, calling the shots...

Oh, God.

Steve's stiff in his jeans immediately, and he needs to, at least, try. For Bucky's sake. Sure, Steve, Bucky's sake. It doesn't have to do with any kind of selfish need to see Bucky's eyes lit with fire, as he dangles a muzzle in front of his face, taunting him. Steve kneeling. Poised to crawl on his hands and knees toward the other man above him. Low enough he could kiss Bucky's feet. He could use his tongue to clean his boots, humming at the taste, knowing exactly where he's been by the grit on his teeth and tongue. Savoring it. Everything he's done for him. The hell he's walked through to get to him. Above him, Bucky's reclined on the edge of their bed, one hand behind him, leaning, all casual and powerful, alluring with his thighs spread wide, setting the muzzle in his lap before curling his finger smoothly. Wordlessly beckoning Steve over so he can shut him up and they can have fun without the neighbor's calling the cops... again.

Those sure, knowing fingers tilting Steve's head up with a mean grip on his chin and slipping the rigid leather onto his face, making sure he can't open his mouth to moan like hell when he's given the privilege of fucking Bucky.

Those fingers.

Those fingers that Steve's going to watch, silenced and muzzled, as they stretch and pry his tight, wet flesh open, preparing himself for Steve's cock. Propped up on his knees in front of Steve, his belly and chest to the bed, hips up, thighs invitingly wide, showing him where he's so tight and aching, but... not yet.

Steve can't touch yet.

And he can't beg to touch. Muzzled.

He can only swallow back sounds and stare desperately, longingly, saliva flooding his mouth.

While they're at it--Steve muzzled like a big, obedient puppy, so good and big as he slides into Bucky after he's stretched, squirming on his back, his thighs still wide open to give Steve a teasing glimpse of his wet hole--Bucky adds a collar for good measure.

A collar.

The strip of thick, dark leather around his throat is complete with a leash, so Bucky can pull it tight, keeping his big, hulking puppy close with the taut, short stretch of leather between their heated bodies.

His fist. Steve's neck. Connected. Joined as one.

He owns him.

It's not like Steve could go anywhere with Bucky's thick, powerful thighs clenched around his trim waist anyway. He's trapped. Entangled in Bucky's heat. All tight and hot and wet inside. And his voice is just as restricting as the leash around his throat--cutting off his air, pulled at just the right moment to slice his muffled moans in half when he pulls at his leash--and orders him to hold back. D-don't cum. Not yet. I'm, 'm not done fuh-fucking done with you yet. Make me cum again. J-just, ngh, just one more. 'M not done yet. Then you can have your treat, okay, boy? That sound good, huh, pup? Mmm, mmm-hmm, yeah, yeah, just like that, gimme it like th-that.

Steve whines, pathetically muffled. It's barely a sound at all, so softened, but at the same time, it's so saturated with want that it's dripping.

How did we get to puppy play? What?

[clandestinegardenias]

I'm feeling really angsty tonight (post-vacation comedown maybe?) and can't stop thinking about my 'they go back to the Arctic' fitzier fic.

Cause like...actual Francis Rawdon Moira Croizer was Not Particularly Good at being on land. He fled to the Arctic again partly because of that and, one assumes, partly because of his heartbreak via Sophia Cracroft.

And it's astonishing how many real life Arctic disaster survivors WENT BACK. They couldn't live in regular society anymore, and there was something that just...drew them back, inexorably.

It's the PERFECT setup for a Francis POV angsty pining unrequited doomed-in-love fic where he attempts to flee from James, his heartbreak, and his own inadequacies/failings by taking another commission to find the Passage, and he tries like hell to avoid taking James with him but James is strangely persistent and public/official sentiment seals the deal. James will be his second, and as it turns out the love isn't quite as unrequited as Francis thinks...

Anyway I've been collecting quotes that fit The Vibe and here's what I've got so far:

“I believe that every man who has once learned the secrets of the wild polar wilderness and its savage joys will always long to return to it, finding there a spell, an inspiration, that makes all other kinds of life seem insipid.” ~Frederick Cook, Atchinson Globe, 18 Sept. 1897 (tumblr post link)

God, God, what do I do after so much survival? - Traci Brimhall, Vive Vive (tumblr post link)

“I went into the desert to forget about you. But the sand was the color of your hair. The desert sky was the color of your eyes. There was nowhere I could go that wouldn’t be you.” Into the Sands, as quoted in Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides

[oftenderweapons]

Bourbon Bossa Nova | MYG | Pt.1

This story is part of the Blue Crush Collab

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (nicknamed Sunny)

Wordcount: 7k

Rating: 18+ (This part is pretty innocent, but Part 2 will feature mature content)

Genre: strangers to friends to lovers, composer!Yoongi x lifeguard!YN

Content warning: swearing, alcohol, allusions to sexual thoughts. Allusions to death, child abandonment and family loss.

Synopsis: when you start your summer at Honeycomb Cove, you're only expecting sunshine, waves and annoying teenage bravado as you work as a lifeguard. What you don't expect is Min Yoongi. He wasn't expecting you either. Soon your morning walks are your favourite part of the day, until you realise it's not really the walks, maybe it's always been him you are, after all, waiting for.

Shoutout to the incredible folks who helped me find courage to keep believing in this fic - and finally posting it. To Mars (@joheunsaram), To Bells (@youtifulhobi) to Yannie (@ressjeon), my power squad who believed in this fic (and in my writing skills) more than I did. Here's to me finally breaking my dry spell!!! And to some of my old and new supporters and cheerleaders @lelegzem0, @aanncchhuu, @blushingatyou and @percheee (other people are most definitely in this list but Tumblr is limiting my access to previous notes so I can't find you all) You folks are part of the reason I'm still rolling in the dust here on Tumblr

Part two out now!

Here's my masterlist, just in case you're new

Also: disclaimer! (very important, I should have put this first) I'm not Brazilian, and I have very little familiarity with Brazilian culture, but I really wanted to do a shoutout to this incredible country, its people, its art and its music. If you have any notes you would like to leave regarding Antonio's characters and Yoongi's attachment to Brazilian culture, you are the most welcome, both here in the comments and in my blog. I'd love to learn more 💜

Enjoy the fic!!!

May is a great thing. Flowers everywhere, the smell of sunscreen starting to spread in the air, orange dawns, hair getting frizzy with salty air and too much time in the water. Sand under your toes, loose linen garments, wearing a sports bra and a pair of shorts all the time, throwing an oversized sweater on when the night gets too cold, the smell of citrus and geranium to keep mosquitoes away. 

Early summer is great. Way better than midsummer and August. May and mid-September had always been your favourite times of the year: the beginning felt like sparks starting to burst, and the end felt like the natural conclusion of things, that languid nostalgia sweeping in gently, like the soft wind ready to carry in autumn days and blow the leaves away. 

The smell of rosemary and lavender and juniper accompanied you to the beach as you walked down one of the side alleys. 

“Good morn’ Earl!”

The old man turned to greet you as he kept watering the hibiscus bushes before the sun became too blinding, burning the poor flowers. “Morning Sunny!”

“Remember your heart pill!”

“Sure! Already took it!” Earl shouted back, his voice bubbly and bright. 

You waved at him as you kept walking, ready to meet your next friend. “Hello Rosa!”

“Hi Sunny!” 

The old lady already had her cocker spaniel on a leash, ready for her morning walk. “When’s Mindy coming around this year?”

“Mid-July. And she’s taking her children too!” The woman looked ecstatic about her daughter visiting. 

“That sounds amazing! I really have to rush, bye Rosa! And bye Lemon!”

“Lemon say bye!” Rosa told her dog, making her bark just in time before you started your jog. 

Being a lifeguard was great. It was the life you had always dreamed of. You had always worked out to fit in the lifeguard guidelines requirements, and a good ninety percent of your decisions had been oriented to making sure that you could be a lifeguard from the second week of May to the first week of October — that is the entirety of tourist season. Once autumn arrived, you would resume working at the retirement home: it was only your second year with that working arrangement, and you weren’t sure it would work at first, but your grandmother being the godmother of the director of the elderly institute guaranteed you would always find a spot working there; plus, they were also constantly in need of an extra set of hands, especially if those hands came with a degree in nursing. 

You’ve always known you wanted to work in elderly care just as much as you’ve always known you were made to be a lifeguard. Your parents were worried over the sort of sacrifices and strains that such an occupation would entail: all the caregiving, and the cleaning and the affection you spend on people you’re inevitably going to lose; yet it felt natural to you. Sure, some people can be antagonistic and diffident, in some cases you end up being more of a nanny than a nurse, but most of the time, it’s worth it. After two years in this field, the ups are definitely brighter than the darkest lows, and you’re under the strong impression that it will keep being so. 

Back to the glorious morning in front of you, you took off your flip-flops as you reached the best place in the world: the golden beach of Honeycomb Cove. Smiling, you fixed your cap on top of your head and walked to your tower, depositing your stuff in the cabin before going for your morning run. As you were opening the umbrella, taking in the blue infinity of the ocean before you, you spotted an unfamiliar figure below, a big fisher hat on its head, a long-sleeved white shirt covering its arms, a stick in one hand while the other was pressed to his lower back in a fist. 

“Hi, hello there!” you greeted, a wide smile for the small, old man walking on the shore before your tower. The bizarre figure lifted his head up, eyes squinted, his button nose curiously pointing about as he looked for the voice. 

“Over here! Good morning, sir!” You waved energetically at him, the man frowning — not that you could notice that, because of the distance and the hat. 

“Morning?” he greeted back in confusion before continuing his walk. 

Yoongi was extremely confused when he heard the voice. His night had been too long for him not to suppose he was hearing voices. Maybe his time had finally come and that was the call of some deity summoning him to whatever comes after the struggles of the living. 

What he didn’t expect was for the voice to call again, this time the source clearly identifiable. He squinted at the lifeguard tower and offered a small wave in greeting. 

She — that had to be a she — seemed to be set alight in sunlight, the early morning light making her glow in something brighter than gold. 

He had a precise image in his mind for a second, something his grandmother had told him when he was a child. Something like mythology, like Achilles’ halo of hair, or Helios who carries the chariot of the Sun. 

He shook his head and continued walking, turning around only once he was several feet ahead and her long legs had carried her in the opposite direction, her wide strides amazing Yoongi, who could just stare at her golden, looped locks bouncing as she played with the back-and-forth of the tide, running along it. 

For a second, Yoongi thought of The Girl from Ipanema, shortly before remembering all the controversies behind it, and how much his grandmother hated the song because of “the male gaze”. With chastised pupils, he let his gaze fall back to the fragments of seashells at his feet, the distant fall of her feet meeting the sound of the tide calling to his ears in a hypnotizing beat. 

All the way back to his home, Yoongi let it ring and echo through all the empty halls of his brain, until he could finally — although artificially — recreate it in the calm of his home, and let it resonate through its corridors.

Yoongi would define himself quite a reserved man. He had his home — an old Victorian-style house in the more quiet and deserted part of the bay, too inhospitable for tourists, still linked to the naval history of the cove. He had renovated the house after his grandmother had left it to him, replacing the old wooden axes with new, not rotten ones, repainting the walls and repolishing the floors, installing soundproof panels on the room he had decided to turn into his studio. 

It had only been a short while since he’d moved into the beach house; his college in San Francisco and his scholarship and research in New Orleans had sent him spiralling between opposites, diving deep into sounds he wasn’t entirely familiar with, and in a bout of homesickness and confusion, he’d decided to return to his true roots, to his true north. 

Here he could daydream of green hills and golden beaches of a faraway place that he could only imagine through the saudade of an old immigrant. He could feel the beat of that city that was nothing but an overgrown village, the roaring of cars on dirt roads, and that open-armed man that seemed to be every man, every woman, every human being in that open-armed city — that all-forgiving man that seemed to welcome strangers, with their weary feet and guilty souls. 

He knew the place that inhabited his wildest dreams, his most romanticised visions, no longer existed. It had been erased by decades of progress and politics and human greed. That place where all his bedtime stories took place was no longer, and maybe it had never been. Yet Yoongi longed to reach that all-forgiving stone man and feel, just feel how the rolling waves carried all the nostalgia and the sins and the tears of those lost souls that reached a new land hoping for fortune and maybe a brand new start. 

He too was something in between worlds. Son of a woman adopted by a foreigner and a man lost in time, somewhere. And there was nothing more foreign to him than the woman who had raised him, the same woman who had given him the house he was living in. He had always been drifting in something somewhat estranged. His mother had been a nobody, abandoned before an orphanage, the only known facts were her name — Moonbae — and that she had been abandoned as the last of sixth children, her family too poor to afford her. As a twist of fate, she had then been adopted by an American anthropologist — Yoongi’s grandma — who had always respected her will to stay away from her past. Still, loss persecuted her, her loving, if a little taciturn adoptive father passing due to a mysterious disease somewhere in Guatemala. 

It took several years for Beatrice and Moonbae to settle in the old colonial house in Honeycomb Cove; Trice had returned to her great-grandmother to assist the incredibly old lady to her last breath. Needless to say, she then inherited the house. The women lived sheltered, quiet lives until Moonbae got pregnant. A summer fling, that was all it was, the man a fleeting tourist who took a risk too many, fathering a son he would never take care of. 

His absence was filled by someone who looked the exact opposite of the little moonbeam of a child, laying pale and tranquil in his cradle, lulled by strange, exotic songs that his grandmother had perfected for him. 

Beatrice fell in love with a man who became everything to Yoongi — someone Moonbae never approved of, so much so that she decided to leave town when her son was maybe four years old. She never returned. Beatrice never looked for her either. 

Antonio was eighteen years younger than Beatrice, his skin a rich cinnamon shade, his accent so thick that it took a while for Yoongi to decipher the heavy Brazilian cadence in the man’s English. 

Yoongi preferred when Antonio spoke Brazilian Portuguese, anyways. By the time the boy was fourteen, he and his acquired grandfather easily conversed on the wooden patio, drinking lemonade, a guitar in the man’s arms. Antonio taught Yoongi everything, the boy so taciturn, so eager to listen, that the nationless musician let all his woes and nostalgia pour out. And maybe the man was no citizen, something in between an exile and a fugitive, but in that old house, he found a home, with Trice constantly refusing to marry him and loving him like a madwoman at the same time. 

Yoongi doubted love like that could exist anymore. A love so strong that when she had passed, Antonio had magically drifted away together with her a few months after, disregarding his significantly younger age. What the not-so-old man would never say was that he passed in tranquillity, knowing that he had taught his spiritual child all he had to offer. 

And just so, Yoongi won a scholarship, all because of the easy, wordless afternoons when Antonio taught him to play three instruments and speak that language that reminded Yoongi of his old cat, Sweeper, and the way he lazily rolled around in the sun. 

Now he was just a young man graduated from a prestigious music academy in San Francisco, two of his compositions had been featured as soundtrack in a couple movies, and he was already producing for a small recording studio specialised in chamber music. He didn’t make much money out of it, to be true, but sometimes he managed to have an extra income with royalties, and he was currently composing his first mixtape — for which a studio had already contacted him, and the fact that Antonio had introduced him to some of the most influential artists in the San Francisco scene had quite definitely jump-started his career. 

He was living a cool life, the kind of life he had always seen himself living. He worked at night and finished his day at seven am; then he would head out for a walk, when the sun was still gentle in summer and when it would be barely up in winter. And next, he would sleep. Wake up around five pm. Get some food ready and start all over again. He’d returned to Honeycomb Cove only six months prior, so he hadn’t yet entirely reconnected with his local social circle, plus most of his friends were still in college, which meant that it wasn’t that easy to arrange a get together. But to be true he was quite excited about Seokjin being back in town and spring break approaching. By summer come, they would all be a great team again and he would feel like he had all the time in the world. 

His musings were interrupted by the doorbell. That had to be his pizza. It was almost eleven and Gerry, the old Italian man who owned the pizza place at the end of the street, always knew that Tuesday night meant late night pizza for Yoongi. 

He grabbed the money — already perfectly calculated so he could pay for the pizza and leave a tip for the delivery boy, Pippo. But tonight it wasn't the delivery boy knocking at his door. As he opened it, he found a wondrous mass of blond curls right in front of his eyes. “Oh, hi!” 

“Hey!” The voice sounded chirpy, familiar. 

A sudden breeze pushed the stranger’s perfume past the doorway, the scent crashing over Yoongi like the surf. God she smells good, Yoongi thought, lips agape as he stared at the woman in his doorway. It was a mix of coconut and papaya, the scent overpowering the tasty smell of his pizza. 

You put on your friendliest, warmest, brightest smile, then said: “We met on the beach right? You must be Min Yoongi. I'm _____. Gerry said you always dine alone and told me you could use some company.”

“I'm not a charity case,” Yoongi replied before realising how rude he'd just been. 

“Well, that's a funny introduction, Not A Charity Case. Is that the name you chose to go by? Like Jenny From The Block?” You shook your head and looked away. “What told you it's not me who could use a friend. May I?” You asked, pointing at the door, asking if you could enter. “You can ask Gerry. He sent me. I've just arrived for the season and I could really use a friend. He told me you're a good person and you're always alone too.” 

Yoongi was almost outraged by your insolence. Were you always so blunt? He was also confused: what kind of setup was this?!

You passed him the pizza and he lifted the lid, checking that it was actually his and that you weren't an imposter, or a serial killer. 

'Take the golden retriever girl. She needs a smart friend. -G,’ read a note left inside the box.

“Yeah, I’m Yoongi,” he said, almost defeated. “Come on in, then.” If he found his house entirely stripped of anything worth money, he would sue Gerry. 

“Oh. Thank you.” You flashed him a grin. 

Yoongi's knees almost caved. What a smile. It was like… like staring at the sun. But in a good way. It was like a blue sky. Soothing. Serene. Cloudless, pacific. 

You placed your own pizza box next to his on the counter while at the same time you looked around. “Wow, your house is so pretty. Your family lives here?” 

Yoongi opened his pizza and grabbed a beer from the fridge. “I don't have a family anymore.” 

You froze. “I'm sorry.” You were already failing at this. That's why your friends all had fake teeth and a medical record thicker than your cookbook. Not to mention the average age.

“It's okay. I got used to that. You should be the lifeguard, right? Wait, would you like some beer?” 

You shook your head. “I'd like some water please.” 

Of course you would, he realised. You had to be one of those health freaks. He could already anticipate how easily he could make you run from him with his suicidal diet. 

He placed a glass beside your pizza box before sitting down and getting ready to dig in. “I still owe you the money. From the pizza.” 

“I already paid for both. I thought that since I wasn't bringing you a housewarming present, I could at least buy you some food.” You took a slice and started eating up, humming and nodding at the taste. “I get why he works so much. This pizza is heaven.”

“Yeah. All the kids here grew up on sunshine and Gerry's pizza,” Yoongi mentioned casually. He liked that you talked with your mouth full. He did, too. Beatrice had never liked that. 

“Are you from the neighbourhood?” He asked before wolfing down another slice. 

“Kinda. I live a bit farther into the mainland. I used to come here on holiday when I was little. With my parents.” You took a sip of water as Yoongi learned one more thing about you. 

“I thought so. I don’t really remember you from growing up, and me and my friends know all of the locals.” Yoongi studied your face, trying to dissect any detail that could make you familiar. 

“I see. You’ve been raised here, I assume?”

“Yup.” The silence is heavy, but at least you can distract yourself with food. “So, lifeguard? That your dream job?” He said it sarcastically, almost evilly before he realised you were nodding eagerly and happily. 

“My great-grandpa was a sailor. I've always wanted to live by the sea.” You munched on the crunchy crust, Yoongi blinking rapidly. 

Making fun of you felt like shooting a dead body. There was no use — and no mercy — in doing that. “Shouldn't you be in college or something?” 

“I took nursing school. And I'm old enough to be out of college.” Yoongi’s tone had really made that sound like an insult, but you tried your best not to assume the worst.

Yoongi tried to get on his better behaviour. You were a new person, you wouldn’t understand his sardonic tone. “I'm sorry,” he said, contrite. 

“For what? Me being a certified nurse and a person in charge of other people's lives? I know I look stupid, no need to rub it in.” You arched an eyebrow, rather fed up with the weirdness of this exchange, of the man sitting before you. You stood up and closed the box of your pizza, still half uneaten. “Sorry I disturbed your night. Enjoy your meal—” 

“Wait, no! Don't go, please.” He didn't know what suddenly convinced him to make you stay. “I was a dick, I'm sorry, let's start over.” 

You hesitated for at least three seconds and then, despite your better judgement, you sat back. “I'm ____. But my friends call me Sunny. It's my middle name. Really. My parents thought it funny.”

It suited you so damn bad. Yoongi wanted to bask in your aura in a hammock with a slight breeze and a samba playing in the distance. “It's a really nice name. It really suits your appearance. And I mean that as a compliment.” 

You breathed out the tiniest laugh. 

“I'm Yoongi and that's the only name I have. We don't use middle names.” He relaxed once you opened your box once more. 

“Where is it from?” You asked, recognising the name being foreign. 

“My mom's name is Korean. She picked a Korean one for me too. Just to remind me we're not entirely American.” He was vaguely bitter about that. Maybe just indifferent, you told yourself. That must have been tough. 

“That's interesting,” you mused, drinking some water. “How old are you?” 

Your question was naive. Childlike. “I'm twenty-three. And you're…?”

“Twenty-four. Twenty-five in a couple weeks.” You smiled and he was once more lost in how radiant you looked. 

Once you were finished eating, you rinsed your hands at the sink, helping him get rid of the boxes before shyly following him as he moved to the living room. 

“Wow.”

“It's a bit overwhelming, I know.” He looked around, analysing the room through a stranger's eyes. “My grandma was an anthropologist, my grandpa too, though I never met him. She travelled a lot and always brought back fancy things.” 

“What's this?” you asked, watching a strange fork of sorts. 

Yoongi sat down and grabbed a bizarre little stick, no bigger than a pen, with a large ball at the end. He hit the fork, a soothing, metallic sound coming out of it and the box at its base, amplifying the cold dong. “It's a diapason. It gives a specific note. This one sounds like la. Or A, whatever notation you prefer. We use it to tune instruments like guitars.” 

You nodded. “That's interesting. I like it.” 

Yoongi chuckled. “It's very soothing, right? It resonates at a frequency that has positive effects on humans. My grandma used to play it when I needed to calm down as a baby.” 

Thinking that the coarse man before you had been a baby felt baffling. “And it still relaxes you?” 

“It does. But I think it's more of a reflex. I think they trained me. Like Pavlov's dog… Wait, was that Pavlov?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a giggle. 

“Sometimes I think I was a strange experiment. That's what happens when you have two scientists in your home.” He shrugged with a funny grin on his face, his cheeks going puffy as he did so. 

“It's okay. You lived through that. You're not doing bad for a lab rat. You could be having bald spots by now,” you joked, almost expecting him to get confused or disgusted. Instead he laughed. 

His laugh was so soft. He actually looked soft, with his gums out, his cheeks puffed up, his nose curled up cutely. Yoongi was cute. Very much so. 

“So, what do you do for a living?” 

He blushed to his ears. “I'm a musician. And a producer.” 

“Wow. That sounds cool! How does that work?” Your voice was filled with wonder, making Yoongi understand that after all it wasn't like you were dumb. You were just unashamed of not knowing things. 

“I make songs. Spend too much time on the computer fixing songs for other people. And then spend a little bit of time with my instruments, going through riffs and melodies, finding little things that inspire me for longer songs or pieces.” Yoongi stopped himself from dumping all of his artistic worries over you. 

“You studied at UCLA?” you asked, knowing that was the best place for a person like him. 

“Actually, no. My grandfather got me into an academy in the city. I mean, my granny's boyfriend,” he corrected himself. Considering Antonio his grandpa had always come natural to him, but he'd never substituted himself for Trice's husband. 

“It's so cute that she found a boyfriend. You mentioned your grandpa passed so I guess she met the guy after?” You posed the question gently, wording it accurately. 

Yoongi nodded. “Yup. I was a toddler when they met.” 

You hummed. “With all respect to your grandpa, I like when old people find a partner — or at least, someone meaningful to them. It brings a lot of joy and newness in their lives. Partnered old folks have a way less lonely life. And it seems they live longer too! I read a paper for a course back in college.” 

Yoongi was pleased to receive confirmation of you being an old people's person. Hopefully you also hated kids so he could actually deem himself safe. “So you actually liked nursing school.”

You bobbed your head enthusiastically. “I’ve always liked the idea of working in a retirement home. Old people have so many stories and so little audience. I like staying with them, helping them write memories they can pass to their overly busy children and grandchildren. And they learn about technology, they play cards. They crochet! Isn't that amazing?!” you exclaimed with a radiant look on your face. 

Yoongi realised you were a genuinely generous person. You reaching out to him wasn't just Gerry forcing you to Yoongi's place, but hopefully you needing a friend. It really seemed you could use a pal your age. “And how does that pair up with your lifeguard position?” 

You shrugged. “I've always loved the beach. And splitting it with caregiving helps me from taking nursing too seriously. It helps me worry less about people… passing, you know.”

Yoongi nodded. He hadn’t thought about what it means taking care of someone day after day after day, and then suddenly they’re gone. He also thought about the different weights of a job: probably that was the same reason why it had taken him so long to work on his music while delivering piece after piece for commission. He had lost the passionate side of it.

“So, your granny's boyfriend got you into a music academy and then?” 

Yoongi smiled, then he started telling you everything about that. 

The two of you talked way deep in the night, the initial strangeness turning into easy chit-chat about school, life, family and work… It was almost one in the morning when you realised it was time for you to go. Once Yoongi noticed how long he’d been talking to you, he blushed and understood it was time to say goodnight, no matter how warm and welcome he felt at your side. 

He accompanied you to the door, then stood on the porch, waving at you before wondering whether he should accompany you home. “You’re staying here in town, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah, don’t worry. I’m just five minutes away from here. I have my bike.”

“You don’t want me to drive you?” He rubbed the back of his neck as he waited for your reply. 

You shook your head. “I’m okay, don’t worry. I’ll be okay.”

Yoongi realised the reason why he felt sad about you refusing was exclusively because he wouldn’t be able to spend more time with you. He was struggling to let go, after only a couple hours of chatting, and at least half of that being awkward acquainting with someone new. 

And to further increase his struggles, he could almost hear Antonio scolding him for letting go of someone that made him feel good. “Will I see you tomorrow morning at the beach?”

You were ready to leave when you heard Yoongi’s question. It sounded vaguely insecure, as if he was testing the waters. “Come meet me at seven. I’ll be there.”

Yoongi nodded to himself. He should have asked for your number. Stupid social anxiety. 

“Goodnight Yoongi!” You waved from the gate before leaving.

He stood there, arms crossed, shrinking inside his striped polo shirt, its long sleeve doing very little in keeping him warm. So unexpectedly his night had changed. He thought about the percussion riff he’d jotted down that morning around nine, laying in bed, sleepless. For all he knew, you could have possibly changed his life. 

He would remember tonight forever. 

The following day, Yoongi left his house at six forty-five. You had given him a when, but not an exact where. He was nervous. And he was somehow hoping that seeing you in broad daylight would somehow lessen your magic. 

How wrong he was. 

He waited for you at the feet of your tower, leaning against it nonchalantly while he almost ran to get there in time. Watching you arrive in sunglasses and a white sundress was definitely something. You looked like the kind of girl that could have starred in Dirty Dancing. 

“Good morning, sir!” you greeted, waving. 

“Stop treating me like an old man,” he complained, however you heard some irony in his voice. 

“Not my fault you behave like one!” you bit back, amused and maybe a little cheeky. “Hello Yoongi,” you tried again, more calmly now that you were standing before him. “I’ll go get changed quickly so we can go on a walk.”

He nodded and looked at the horizon before him, his ears blushing at the thought that you were half naked just a few steps away. You looked so lean and fit and tall and he was… He was struggling not to let his mind run wild. After all you were just a prettily shaped woman. No more, and no less. 

All the months that had passed since he’d last slept with someone weren’t a valid reason for him to think of you half naked.

“Let’s go!” you exclaimed, basically throwing yourself down the stairs and taking a few small jumps on your spot — like a golden retriever too excited about going out. You started with a jog, only to watch Yoongi’s panicked look. 

You exploded with laughter. “See, I told you! You’re an old man!”

Yoongi hid his smile with a pout before catching up with a few quick steps. “Do you need to run or can you just walk?”

“I’ll walk in the water. Helps me burn more energy and work on my stamina,” you replied, entering the water to the point it reached your knees. “You can walk on the shore. Did you sleep well?”

He looked away.

“Oh, right. You work at night. So— Did you… produce?” You looked down, careful about not splashing him. 

“Oh, yeah. The conversation with you was very inspirational,” he conceded. He hadn’t worked half as much in the last four weeks. Listening to the little riffs and chords hidden in your voice was like experimenting with a new genre. It was as if he was building a new theme for you. Something that signified your presence, but at the same time conveyed the fits and starts of meeting someone new, and getting to know them, and discovering something new about oneself from all the analogies and differences they could see with the other person. As much as he was composing about you, about the little bits he’d learned about you, he was in some way also composing about himself. 

The process had been thrilling and once he’d finished the first, roughest draft, at dawn, the music felt so vibrant that it could properly and proudly accompany the rise of the sun. It was of course still only a draft, but the way you’d talked deep into the night, the way you’d circled around things until they’d come out right, had inspired him to give it all a try. It didn’t need to be perfect, it only needed to work. And work, in the end, it did. He only wished he had sampled a piece of your conversation — that joke about him being a lab rat… the laughs that followed. It would have been great for a skit. 

“You know, I really wish I could listen to your music. I'm kind of curious about what such a quiet person considers noise worth listening to.” You looked at him. “After all, music is just very tidy noise right?” 

He smiled. “Yeah, I would agree to that.” He looked at the seashells on the shore. “I'll make you a playlist. I'll include random stuff I like listening to.”

“Oh, I'd love that!” you replied enthusiastically. “We can make a playlist for our walks!” 

Yoongi’s ears perked up at that: “walks”, plural, which meant you would do this again, soon. He was pleased at the way you had so casually hinted at creating a routine. He had someone to share music recommendations with. Someone who would maybe recommend pieces to him in return. He realised he was excited about this. So many new sensations, and none of that as unpleasant as he’d thought. He could get used tho this.

Once the two of you said goodbye, he realised he couldn't go to sleep. He was too excited about making a playlist and sharing it with you. Walking with you in the gentle morning sun. Hearing you laugh. 

Yoongi understood: he was making a new friend. 

Having walks with Yoongi became extraordinary. You started associating him with the tender colours of the shyest sunshine, and the sweet cotton scent of his shirts in the gentle morning breeze. The way his soft locks danced in the ocean air, tangling together, the way his cheeks turned into little ice cream scoops when he smiled at you as you greeted him good morning. 

Likewise, Yoongi started adoring sunshine. You ended each of his nights, bringing him into the reign of soft morning light, introducing him to a brightness he'd always much preferred doing without. Truth was that his ears had become acquainted with your vintage summer bops, with the way your steps would automatically sync up with the beat of Pumped Up Kicks when the song started playing, and your little blonde baby curls would end up bouncing by the time the first chorus came around. Sometimes you looked like one of those strange horses trained to match the rhythm of music. Dressage, wasn't that? 

And then, you loved his calm acoustic ballads, the relaxing guitar riffs that accompanied the rise of the sun. 

Once your shared routine of morning walks was sufficiently cemented, you trained him, like a stray cat, to stick around some more after your walk, convincing him to join you for a morning snack. You always brought him iced coffee and a peach jam sandwich while you drank your aloe and matcha drink before indulging in an avocado toast. He liked your mornings as much as you did. You also probably liked each other too. 

Your perfect sunny streak was tainted only by a mildly cloudy morning, during which Yoongi showed up at your tower anyway, an extra sweater on top of his long sleeved shirt. He knew you'd probably be cold. 

The striped black number seemed to be big enough for you to fill it up comfortably. After all, you were half a head taller than him, and your arms were significantly longer. At least by three or four inches, he had to admit. 

When you showed up, you looked drowsy, your hair was half low and you were carrying a different bag from usual. “Morning old man,” you called, placing your bag at the feet of the stairs. 

“Morning, Sunny. Wait. Are those actually knitting devices in your bag? Wonder Woman ____ knits?” 

“Shut up. Linda taught me. It's just something to share with the ladies at The Orchard,” you justified yourself. “We'll see if you still joke about that once you get your soft, handmade cosy sweater this winter.” 

Yoongi blinked, suddenly realising his expression had been shifting to a pout. “Are you still going to be around this winter?” 

You invited him upstairs, avoiding the question for now. Could you wait from September to May to see him again? Could you go so long without him? 

As you picked up a half knitted torso from your bag, pressing it to his face, you realised you couldn't. You also realised you had made a naive mistake. You had thought you were domesticating a stray but in the meanwhile you had opened him your home, your heart. You had invested your time in him and that made him much more than a stray. You were giving him a forever home.

“Is this for me?” he asked innocently, gently, rubbing his face against the soft, airy fabric. 

“It’s alpaca wool,” you commented drily. You already knew you would give up on your long-term dream sweater only to see him all fluffed up in the pastel mesh of colours. You smiled as he pressed it closer to his face.

“So soft,” he murmured, nuzzling up against the small piece of knitwork. The moment he opened his eyes, you realised his nose was just a tiny bit red from the chilly breeze coming from the sea, carrying a storm in its wake. His cheeks were rosy and puffy, his eyes big and dark. And his eyelashes, so dainty and insanely… flirtatious? He looked like he was seducing you for the slowest of seconds. 

You looked away, cheeks aflame. “Let’s go. Before the rain comes.”

Yoongi startled at your tone, cloudy for the first time since that night when you’d known each other too little, and he’d been unforgivably too sarcastic. He followed you like a confused pet down the stairs, then grabbed his earpods and passed one to you. 

You were especially thankful for the music now that your thoughts were too scattered for you to form sentences and make some conversation. 

“It will rain in a bunch of minutes,” Yoongi commented. “There’s no use walking today.”

You ignored him. Would he leave if you agreed with his statement? Would he think walking was pointless, and therefore there was no reason for the two of you to spend any time together today? Too lost in trying to find a meaning to how sad you felt at the thought of being apart, you didn’t realise a raindrop had hit your nose. 

The storm was coming. 

An angry guitar riff came on, The Neighbourhood blaring from the earphone as Yoongi grabbed your hand. One drop followed the other, his hand around your wrist as he tugged at your arm, running fast, faster, to a speed that felt ridiculous considering how lazy he always was. 

‘I’m going back to 505, if it’s a seven-hour flight or a forty-five-minute drive. In my imagination you’re waiting lying on your side, with your hands between your thighs, and a smile…’

You ran, faster, short of breath, the music carrying you across the sand. You didn’t even realise you were trusting Yoongi completely, even as he led you past your tower, even as he kept running while the downpour broke loose, even as The Beatles came on, singing about jars by the door and lonely people, even as the morning got so dark, the sky like a purple shiner after a rowdy pub fight. 

You kept running, Yoongi panting as the two of you finally recognised the fence of his house, the tower barely visible behind the thick cover of rain and mist. “Come on!” he gasped out. 

You kept running until you were under his porch. “What the hell, Yoongi! Why didn’t we stop at the tower!?” you scolded him, barely alive, barely breathing — how had he worn you out like this? He was way less trained than you, and yet he’d managed to run by your side, keeping your pace, ending up winded, sure, but in way better a state than you’d thought he would be.

He shook his head, bent in two, his hands gripping his knees. “I was distracted! I wasn’t thinking!”

You shook your head, too busy pulling oxygen into your lungs to fight him back. After a few breathless minutes, you sat down on the first step of the staircase. “You knew it would rain. Why did you come?”

Yoongi felt called out all of a sudden. “I— I thought you were expecting me to come. I don’t have your number so I couldn’t text you. Or call you.” He sat down beside you, his hands pressed in between his knees. “I didn’t want you to worry or think I had forgotten.” He took in a large breath. Somehow the little effort of a confession required way more air than the makeshift marathon under the storm — it was definitely shorter than a marathon. Probably not even a tenth of it. He just knew that was the longest and the fastest he’d ever run, but you were running, and you were so majestic and he just wanted to be part of it. 

Yoongi paused, gathered his courage, then murmured, “I didn’t want you to feel lonely.”

You recognised the guitar strums immediately, the song changing once more. You looked at Yoongi, Hozier’s soft voice crooning at your ear. “What about you? Were you feeling lonely?”

He looked away, too shy, too old, too used-to-it to admit it. He had no right to feel lonely when you weren’t around. He had been alone for so long, but loneliness? It had been a stranger to him until he’d learnt your name. “I don’t—”

You pushed his hair off his face, your index finger casually following the handsome curve of his jawline. “Yoongi?”

He finally turned to look at you, once more innocent in the way he seemed to seduce you. He looked so pure and for the first time you felt so desperate to taint him. You needed him to look normal and mundane and you prayed for your crush to fade, for his sinless charms to be washed away so he would show his true colours, because no man should be allowed to be perfect the way he felt perfect to you. 

“Yoongi,” you whispered, your heart tied up with pining.

‘Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do.’

You hadn’t realised your eyes were closed until it was too late, the lyrics making you open them only to notice Yoongi leaning towards you, his lips protruding in the most imploring pout you had ever seen. 

You were ruined. 

You tugged the earpod off, almost throwing it to the ground before hollering a ‘see you ‘round’ and running off in the cold rain. 

Yoongi, confused, afraid, sat on his porch as he watched you disappear. 

Part 2 will be out now!!

[q-starhalo]

I LIED, THIS IS MY LAST IMPORTANT LETTER TO YOU AT THE MOMENT:

No but it's seriously has been such an honor liveblogging Bad on the qsmp and I'm so glad I took the chance to do so when I was thinking about whether or not to post about him here <3 While I can't say when I started posting more on my account, I can say that I'm so glad it was this community and Bad that inspired me to do so and I will forever be thankful for that <3

And I also have to say that I was glad that I took part in our little road trip to Purgatory that day and joined the bus discord since I've met so many more people even if I didn't talk there for 2 months after it opened ^^"

And now onto my favorite people (which is just all of you guys but I can only remember so many users o(-()

@alchemicaladarna You have been such a nice person to see in my notes and in my feed <3 While we don't speak much, you're a really sweet person and I'm glad I got to meet you

@anth4rax You are one of the fastest people I've met when it came to liking posts. And while you can be a tad chaotic, you're always a welcoming presence in my notes and in the bus <3 I'm really glad I've gotten to speak to you and be your friend <33

@azure-wing While I believe we don't speak much, it's always a pleasure seeing you hanging out in the bus and notifying others who's live <3

@badanddapper You posting Bad and Dapper clips have always made my day <3 Thank you <333

@baginamybeloved NIKOLA <3333 Siempre es un placer hablar contigo en español or in english and figure out if something is just a my country thing or not xD And even then, it's just a pleasure talking to you and I'm glad we've met <3333

@bixxibee Bixx!!! <3 I'm always happy to see you around and speak to you <33 You're a really nice person and I'm glad I got the chance to meet you <33

@boytoyhalo SIREN!! <3 While I think we've barely spoken, I'm always happy to see you around <33

@celluzu I don't think we've spoken before but I'm grateful for the Bad and Dapper you drew for me during the Trick or Treat on Tumblr <33

@creechurrr CREECHURRRRRRRRRR <33333333333 AUGH I LOVE WHENEVER YOU COME INTO MY ASKS YOU'RE MIND IS SO BEAUTIFUL YOU ALWAYS GET ME AND YOUR FICS ARE AMAZING <33333 AND YOU'RE SO KIND AND I'M SO GLAD I GOT TO MEET YOU <3333

@dappersautismcreature While we don't speak much, I love seeing you here and there and I loved your starhalo au's <3333 OH AND THE UM UM I FORGET WHAT IT'S CALLED BUT THE GRIM REAPER FIC ONE WAS SO GOOD <33333

@disfrutalakia Kia!!! You've always been my go-to blog for the Brazilians and Bagina and I'm so glad I got to meet you <3

@etoilesmoon One of the many people who understand me when it comes to starhalo 🤝 Hope I get to speak to you more <3

@gnostie GHOST!!! While we've only started speaking more recently, I'm so glad Mizu directed me to you when it came to clowns and just cute stuff in general <3 Ha sido un placer de conocerte <33333

@hgduo YOU GET ME. YOU F★CKING GET ME. (Also you're very cool. Tons of love to you <3)

@islayuri YOU'RE SO TALENTED OH MY GOD YOU'RE ART MAKES ME WANT TO EXPLODE <33333

@kadextra KADE. KADE. YOU'RE ART AND YOUR THEORIES AND THE BLACK SIGN STUFF. <3333333 And not only that, but you're such a sweet and talented person <333 Sending you lots of love <3333

@kaijuparfait PARFAIT!!! <333 It's been a pleasure talking to you about starhalo in the past and now more recently hearing (or more so reading) about Godzilla and how it fits Bad <33 Glad I met you <33333

@karoo-o LOVE YOUR ART AND IT WAS AN HONOR MAKING A PLAYLIST FOR YOU DURING THE VALENTINE EXCHANGE <3333

@kays-artstuff Even if you don't do much qsmp art, I'm always so glad to see you in my notes and I love seeing your art, it's so 💥💥💥💥💥

@l3m-n LEM!! While I rarely see you now, it was a pleasure talking to you here and there <33

@little-soldiers We've spoken here and there but you were such an inspiration for me to write out a little fic and I still hold on to that encouragement whenever I want to write something but don't think it'll be well <333 Thank you <3333

@lunaeclipse1057-ao3 LUNAAAAAAAAAA <3333333 While I've already said this, you're genuinely a sweet person even if we've barely spoken and I hope I still see you around <33333333

@lxrd-ren While I don't think you open Tumblr anymore, I just want you to know that you were and always will be the best bus buddy ever <33

@mizuski-broken MIZUUUUUUUUUU OH GOD WHERE DO I BEGIN?????? You always get me when it comes to the paranormal and you're just such a nice person to be around with <3333 I'm so glad I got to meet you and consider you a friend of mine <33333333

@muffinclutch Love seeing you in my notes <333 Hope to see you around <3333

@qsmprambling Always glad to see you around <3333

@starscollide0 YOU'RE ART IS SO 💥💥💥💥💥🔥🔥🔥🔥💥💥💥 And you're also such a nice person <3333 I hope to see you around <3333333333

@tubborucho LISS!! I'm always happy to see you around and you're truly the go to soulfire/tubhalo person <3 Lots of love to you <333333

@ultra-raging-ghost Ghost!!! It's always such a pleasure seeing you out and about whether it be you drawing or talking about mainly ayhalo and cucuhalo to in my notes, I'm always glad to see you <333 Hope to talk to you more <333333

And of course to many others like the people in my notes (@toxic-foolhalo-yuri, @j3ssicaangel, @fl10werc4t, @kayleighthekoala, @starriknight, @mystifiedmystery, @nightlight26, etc.) and everyone on the bus like Theo, Zero, Brubs, Zunto, March, Tannin, Des, Nico, and so so many others!!!! <3 Thank you again for this wonderful experience and trust me when I say, I will always be here <3333

- Yours truly, Star ★

[rebo-chan]

Hello, everyone. To today's episode of Tumblr user Rebo-chan loses her mind and assigns each and every Vongola guardian a flower that I have painstakingly searched high and low for (I wish I was being dramatic, I got too invested in this as I worked on it). Is this done in a state of mania? Perhaps, but I am diseased by COVID-19 as we speak and this is what I will do with the time I am meant to be resting with. Nonetheless we must get started. Content under the cut, because I can NEVER make a short post. It's against my core beliefs clearly.

Sawada Tsunayoshi:

The European Orange Lily (Lilium bulbiferum)

My reasoning for this starts with the fact that the "lily" itself has a lot of different meanings, but the important aspect of the lily is that its considered the spring flower and represents often meanings of renewal and rebirth. The very messaging for our sweet boy, a life restarted after he meets his mentor. An orange lily specifically has meanings dipped into warmth, joy, passion (In regards to his devotion to those he loves), 'welcoming' to new opportunities in your life (lol), and most importantly - confidence and pride. Something that he grows to be over the course of his renewal, pride in his friends. Confidence in his strength to protect them. KHR is a story about a nobody becoming somebody strong enough to protect them, even and especially when they falter themselves. It should also be noted that in Hanakotoba (Japanese flower language), orange lilies represent 'revenge and hatred'. Which I think is a factor of Tsuna we can't ignore, as sweet as he is, TYL Tsuna's actions become darker the more you think about them. Tsuna can and has killed when a villain has overstepped too far, and never forget that he just wanted to know "who" Yamamoto's attacker was. For no reason, just to look at him, maybe shake his hand lol. Fr though, that boy's made of fire, both to keep his loved ones warm and to burn their enemies. I think the orange lily fits him nicely.

Also yes, I'll do my best to color-code these flowers~

Gokudera Hayato:

A Red Fressia

So, its quite hard actually to find any sort of 'red' flowers that aren't about some sort of romantic-esque devotion. Just being a red flower inherently puts you in that category of 'passion, love, marriage' meanings when it comes to flowers. It's a real struggle, but luckily he's our only red character amongst the Vongola kids. Okay, so the Freesia is represented by the concept of friendship and ultimate trust. I think it was easier for me to find a flower that represents devotion or duty and tack it on to Gokudera, but I think that's just looking at him on the surface. The story behind the freesia is that the botanist who found them in South Africa decided to name it after his friend as a symbol of their friendship. Very lovely :)<3 For all of Gokudera's dutiful affection for Tsuna, a lot of it is based on the fact that Tsuna was his first friend and the person who he trusted first. His eventual character growth and bonding with the other guardians came as he allowed himself to trust them, when he realized that his 'duty' that he believed to be absolute was above his bonds. Rather, it's his bonds that strengthen his resolve to be the perfect right hand man. Due to the intense representation of friendship and trust, freesias are given to a loved one to represent commitment to them, not unlike Gokudera's commitment to Tsuna and therefore the Vongola family unit. It should also be noted that in Hanakotoba, freesias also have a negative meaning which is childishness and immaturity which I do feel is something that Gokudera has to work through in order to become the best version of himself and has done quite well at by the end of the series. He's our little friendship blossom :)<3 Yamamoto Takeshi: Himalayan Blue Poppy

Let me start this by complaining that 'blue' flowers are so fucking rare, it took me forever to find something matched and was also color-coded with Yamamoto, that didn't dip into too indigo, because of the rarity of a nicely blue flower. To start, blue as a color has all those lovely Yamamoto vibes of being calming, easy on the mind, tranquility, all that beautiful stuff we know Yamamoto to be. (It's almost like Amano color-coded her characters guys..) Poppies themselves got a bit of cultural significance in the West, being the flowers given to WW1 soldiers after they'd passed as a way of remembrance. They're also known for growing in desolate war-torn areas, just a patch of poppies as well as having many soldiers buried with a poppy with them in honor. With that the poppy itself has themes of death, honor, lessons, tradition and remembrance. With Yamamoto’s connection to the Poppy flower, Yamamoto himself is..pretty death-coded. HEAR ME OUT. HEAR !! ME OUT!!!! Varia arc, Squalo ‘dies’ against Yamamoto. Future arc, Tsuyoshi is killed for Yamamoto being involved with the Vongola, Shimon with Yamamoto himself getting nearly killed and then that big moment where he offers to kill Daemon in retaliation for what was done to Kaoru. While not canon as well, the primo fillers are about Yamamoto dealing with the fact he DIDNT kill daisy and how he felt he had to be less easy-natured and actually go for the kills from now on. And of course, his attempt during daily life when he could not do what he loved anymore. He’s VERY death-coded y’all. But the poppy itself isn’t just some omen of death, but the lessons one can gather from those who have passed. Yamamoto’s own battle style is about taking the lessons of those before him who carried Shigure Soen Ryu and then growing upon that to carve a new and improved future for himself and those he cares about. He adapts to their lessons, what Squalo and Tsuyoshi have to teach him. On the fly, continuing the Shigure legacy and creating more moves to eventually pass on to the one that succeeds him. In general, he carries any lessons he has up until the end of the series and tries to never make the same mistake again. Whether that’s his lessons against the Mists he’s battled, his loss against Squalo for not having a proper sword style, and though he doesn’t get a chance against Gamma again, he’s always understood the importance of teamwork. That being said, he’s not just a poppy. He’s a Himalayan Blue Poppy. You see the himalayan blue poppy has a different meaning outside that of the ones that the other poppies do. With its rarity, it also represents success, potential, pursuit of dreams, and possibility.  Yamamoto is the Vongola family’s prodigy, a natural born hitman, the star baseball player on his team. Stuck at a crossroads between his dream and being able to be in a position to protect the ones he loves. An impossibly difficult choice to make, yet Yamamoto handles it with ease. He just won’t choose! He’ll do both! Which fights very nicely with the Hanakatoba meaning of the poppy. “Fun-loving” “A reminder to remember happiness.” Along with general blue color meanings of tranquility, that is Yamamoto to his core, I believe. When things get their worst, he is there to remind everyone that it is never as bad as it feels. To wash away the blood spilled, that is the role of the Vongola Rain Guardian. His crossroad isn’t an issue to him, because that’s not what he fights for! He fights to make things easier for everyone, so they may remember happiness. That sort of thing doesn’t exactly need him to make a choice on his path. Now, does it? If he’s forced to choose, he will just carve out new possibilities for himself and the ones that he loves with the lessons he’s learnt. 

Lambo Bovino: Green Envy Zinnia

Contrary to the title, the green envy zinnia has nothing to do with envy. Quite the opposite, actually. The zinnia itself represents endurance (HEAR. ME. OUT LOL), lasting affection, joy, and various other things. So, the zinnia is super fucking tough, again hear me OUTTTT. They bloom all the way from springtime to autumn, something pretty unheard of from flowers which gave them their meaning. A green envy Zinnia specifically represents growth or a journey. Wishes of a healthy and successful growth. And I believe that is the hope for Lambo, as he progresses through the series. He is quite literally a child, both himself and TYL. But that’s just the thing for him, to the one that chose the guardians (Iemitsu, it’s very implied that it was Iemitsu), Lambo is an INVESTMENT. And a correct one if twenty years old Lambo was anything to go by. Not only that, the zinnia represents a joyous endurance. This doesn’t have to be painful for him, and it’s not as he’s allowed to both be a kid in Tsuna’s care while also holding on tight when told to stay out of the fight. (“You have to take the younger me wherever you go, he wants to go with you.”). And as a bit of an angsty little hehe on my part, the zinnia also represents missing those who have passed, that you remember someone and love them even now that they’re not with you. (“Seeing you all again, I thought the day would never happen. It’s making me emotional.”) Honestly, judging by how Lambo fights when he gets the opportunity to properly do it, he just isn’t weak. Destroying Kikyo’s box animal, fighting against Ooyama, and of course against Levi too. In Hanakotoba, the Zinnia represents loyalty. He is their youngest blossom, enjoying being around the one he considers a brother with hidden potentials to grow into someone with the ability to be Vongola’s shield. If the ones he loves ever make it to see that sight, of course. 

Ryohei Sasagawa: Yarrow (Achillea millefolium) 

Okay, so the yarrow is first of all a funky flower. If you’ve never seen OTHER colors of the yarrow flower, I implore you to google it. Especially the red ones? Why are you so pretty? Lucky enough for this flower (and me I’m starting to lose my mind here, this was a much bigger task than I thought it would be) the different colors don’t change the meaning of the flower here which is neat. It also unfortunately has no hanakotoba meaning either. So, anyway. The yarrow. It represents a warrior’s bravery, protection, and healing. The healing comes from the fact that its a commonly used herb for bruises, cuts, and sprains. There’s also huge folklore around it which affects its scientific name, as Achilles used yarrow to take care of the men he was in charge of. This flower was also used as a ward against evil, where people would hang this outside of their homes in order to protect them from evil getting inside. A superstition developed around this leading to Yarrow to be named the devil’s nettle to refer to the belief that the devil would come around and shake the yarrow that people hung up due to wanting to curse them. This flower also represents strong everlasting love, to the point where a little tradition propped up where people would shove this flower up their nostrils whenever they had a nosebleed so if they dreamt about their crush it meant that they liked them back lol. Yall there was so much rich lore on this flower, it’s super neat. More than I could fit in here. Anyway, I’m sure yall see the connection with Ryohei acting as the group older brother, being the motivating factor for them. He was the first to go up during Varia arc and set the tone for the rest of the battles, that the Vongola would win. Last to show up during future, representing that all of them had finally been reunited. A draw against Aoba, again the very first battle, almost symbolizing HOW shimon would end. He’s the strength in their arms, acting as the last person to leave in future arc until they were ready to go. Taught them and helped lead them to make decisions during that arc. It’s almost his duty to protect the younger ones, even getting up on Hibari’s case in the fillers for not helping out his younger classmen. We can’t even dismiss the way he would prefer to shield Kyoko from everything that they go through, and getting aggressive with Tsuna when Tsuna broke something he thought both of them saw eye to eye on.  Not much rattles him, honestly if you pay attention to his scenes, only getting the most nervous and agitated TRULY when he fears he won’t be able to protect someone (Asking Tsuna how Kyoko reacted to the news, Tozaru getting on his case about Lambo coming to the battle) Otherwise, he’s his happy loud confident self ready to tackle on anything for the sake of the family. Destroying the misfortune that attacks the family with their own body, the yarrow represents that duty well. For every bruise the younger one gets, Ryohei has the ability to heal it. For every fear, Ryohei tackles it first. Acting as a ward and protector for his family. Hibari Kyoya

Clematis (Etoile Violette)

Clematis is a climbing flower, to start with. One of those flowers that grow along walls and vines. It’s a very adaptable flower, able to work with various environments and thrive amongst them. They’re known as the traveler’s joy, meant to wish travelers good luck and act as protection to those who pass by them. While also having a more negative reputation, having “killed” other plants by outcompeting them considered having done the devil’s work. (The plant is actually considered invasive aha oops) The clematis though, itself represents mental fortitude, cleverness, and the ability to find hope in perilous situations. Hibari himself, I mean just that back and forth reputation is just him, no? Acting as Namimori’s protector, keeping a watchful eye on the town while also being utterly terrifying for Namimori students and almost overwhelming to those competing with him. (Dino will only find escape from Hibari in death, Mukuro is the same) But, he is also undoubtedly Vongola’s wall. Similar to Ryohei, not once throughout the series really and truly faltering. The clematis itself with its representation in mental fortitude can be given to someone when they need mental strength. I think the best way to represent this is directing you to that moment in Shimon arc when Tsuna, while not physical beaten, had been mentally tormented by everything that had happened and Hibari came to his battle to Adel. A simple, but strong “Little animal, your face right now is dull. Watch my fight.” It’s in that fight Tsuna gets his mental strength back, being given a hint to answer the question he’s been stressing and faltering over. Then there’s future arc, having been the only one TYL Tsuna trusted with the plan. Kokuyo Arc, Gokudera seeing an already defeated Hibari and taking him to the battle. Varia arc, the gang realizing that if Hibari is fighting next then they may have already won it and refusing to succumb to the poison in the sky battle. Rainbow arc, Tsuna considering them in that list of people he “just expects to help him.” He has the ability to be their hope, to be another factor of their strength. Where Ryohei is holding them up on the physical aspect, Hibari is absolutely their mental strength. (Isn’t it charming that the two eldest are the pillars of their group? I think it is). Also, in Hanakotoba, the clematis represents moral beauty and order. And that’s just the kinda man who could run something like the discipline committee, isn’t? The special thing, finally is that the etoile violette represents a sense of freedom from troubles. A free man, unchained himself and choosing to help those younger than him. Sometimes for the thrill of a battle, sometimes to actually help them with the reputation of a devil. Unpredictable, but still trusted.  It’s the sky that allows the clouds to roam freely, but even someday that sky will be beaten to death. 

Chrome Dokuro

Lupine (Blue Bonnet)

The Lupine flower is before anything else, a second chance at life. A recovery from one’s trauma and the admiration that comes from that. Its gratitude and kindness put into one. There’s a legend around the lupine flower about a land full of drought where Native Americans had believed would be saved by selflessness and yet no one had come forward to do anything, until a young girl came forward and offered the last of her possessions. The rain came to fall at her sacrifice, and hundreds of lupines had blossomed from the ground saving the tribe from drought and hunger as the seeds of the Lupine could be harvested to be eaten. The Lupine represents that the world will always give back if you are willing to help. Chrome, from her introduction, is told to be a girl who has nothing. With two parents who want nothing to do with her and no friends by her side. She runs forward to save a kitten and is gravely injured. With neither of her parents willing to help her, Chrome wonders if she is going to die here but is offered a deal by Mukuro. It’s here that Chrome is offered her second chance and she spends the whole series trying to return the favor to Mukuro. All while healing from her own trauma, the type of trauma that “no one could care about her”, as she is offered food and bonds from Tsuna, Kyoko, Haru, I-pin, Bianchi, Hibari, and so many others. It's in her second chance that she gets to experience what life truly had to offer her, as thank you for her continued selflessness. It’s that gratitude that she represents and the never-ending desire to give when she doesn’t accept Mukuro’s assistance anymore with her organs because she can no longer give him anything now that he’s out of Vindice Prison. She resolves that she will become someone who can protect the people she and Mukuro like. Her confidence isn’t perfect and she falters quite a bit, not believing that her powers are as great as those around her. But, that’s okay, because her goodness has brought her to people who have got her back until she can figure herself out. She has Mammon to correct her when her illusions are seen through that they are well made, but she’s just dealing with professionals and that’s why they’re seen through. There’s Tsuna who relies on her blindly, never doubting her strength to protect them as he asks her to act as defense during Shimon arc and protect Enma from his attack. Alongside with Fran, she is trusted to protect Yamamoto and Gokudera in the final battle against Vindice and taken with Tsuna against Jaegar. She has a lot of space to continue growing, but Lupin also represents voracity and happiness in Hanakotoba. She has her second chance to learn all about that, or as Mukuro put it to her, “An ending is merely the beginning of another cycle.”

Rokudo Mukuro

Aconitum (Wolfsbane)

Wolfsbane is also referred to as Monkshood. This is another one with pretty rich lore with its connection to werewolves. It’s referred to as “queens of the poisons” and has a pretty negative message to it on the outside. First of all, this thing’s poison? TOUGH AS HELL. Delirium, frothing at the mouth, vision impairment, and of course the classic coma<3 It’s got an uncanny resemblance to what rabies actually looks like. Fun, right? Okay, fr though onto its meaning. Wolfsbane is an omen that danger is nearby, not unlike the unnerving feeling Tsuna gets whenever he senses Mukuro nearby. Said to have come from Hell itself, the saliva that has dripped down from Cerberus himself. Not unlike our sweet boy. But, being an omen does not always represent something bad. Is he bringing the danger to you, or is he warning you of the true danger that lies past him? It’s a little bit of both. Aconitum represents concealed wisdom and caution in decision-making. But it also DOES represent protection, a proper and true warning of the dangers of the wild. That beauty does not always mean safe. For his twisted sense of vengeance and believing that taking over the world is the only way to destroy it for the sake of what was done to him, he isn’t necessarily wrong for being enraged about what happened to him. Yet, despite his hate, he doesn’t drag those who he cares about further down into it than he has to. He sends Ken and Chikusa away when they are going to get caught, he never uses Chrome for anything besides as a vessel to help her, and he says during Rainbow arc that if he forced Fran to continue past his limits he’d be no better than those nasty adults of his past. Aconitum balances sweetly between light and darkness, similar to Mukuro. He won’t admit it, but he cares for those amongst the Vongola. He infiltrates the Millefiore and sends the Vongola information after Tsuna’s death, he helps Chrome form a barrier around Enma so he could be safe from Tsuna’s X-Burner. And, of course he teams up with Vongola’s team during the rainbow arc. These are undoubtedly kind actions,  but when Tsuna gets angry at Mukuro during Rainbow claiming that he didn’t believe that Mukuro was the type to abandon his allies, Mukuro says that that was just his idea of him. Even though it was Chrome ultimately rejecting him, he instead pretended that he really was some big bad heartless person. Definitely, Mukuro is no angel, but also he’s no demon either. He’s.. just a human at the end. The aconitum’s dance with both light and dark, a flower that tries to warn, can be read both good and bad depending on how you look at it. His rejection of his ‘official’ position as part of the Mafia, yet acting as the Vongola Mist Guardian when their goals align. He’s as confusing as the duty he embodies, but he succeeds nonetheless in ensuring the family is untouchable in his deceptions. After all, the best way to fool your enemies is to fool your allies first.

[bookwyrminspiration]

QUIL! For April Fools, they made your cheese update. Aggressively click the cheese button, and post is covered in cheese.

Adding the photo from the other ask as requested!

I see! I see the update! God I can't let this be my magnum opus now I have to go out and achieve more in life or something, I can't believe tumblr would do this to me.

Anyway, I think of all the posts on this site the cheese one being covered in cheese is very fitting :). Thank you for instructing me on how the cheese function works, because I probably would not have intuited it otherwise!

[pretty-weird-ideas]

IWTV Twitter and the so-called "Fake Black Fans" Invasion

Something that I've been seeing a lot after it gained traction on Max is white fans condescendingly talking down to Black fans, some of whom have been in this fandom longer than they have, and acting as if they don't know what they are talking about because of their critique including a concept or subtext they wish to ignore. I want to repeat that this doesn't happen in the same amounts to white fans who make analyses or memes, it seems to uniquely be Black fans speaking AAVE or with Black pfps (visibly black bc of this) being bombed in the comments for having valid opinions.

I reached about the fifth tweet of white women going onto posts of Black people (particularly older women on Black Twitter) talking about IWTV and saying "You don't know what you're talking about, read the source material/finish the show" or entirely saying that "You don't understand fandom culture". Prompting those Black people to respond curtly that they, in fact, have read the source material, finished the show long before they have, and have been a fandom elder since before they even rolled into town. I witnessed someone doing BABY talk to a 30-year-old Black woman who was talking about episode 5, with "Well you see, it's not my fault you can't read". And when the woman professed anger back, she was the one blocked.

I witnessed this backhanded shit FIVE TIMES over the course of this week. With different white women doing the job of whitesplaining fandom culture and Anne Rice to random Black fans who already know unprompted with a level of passive aggressiveness and annoyance that only comes with doing it repeatedly. I must assure you (white people who are doing this) nobody asked, you can put down your task and stop pretending like you are doing something Sisyphean. You are not legally required to explain and describe IWTV poorly while getting into screaming matches with far more educated Black fans on Twitter and Tumblr.

People are acting as if there's a rising population of Black fans who are "Fake Fans" and must be stopped, lest they start up the freaky discourse. OOHHH NOOOO! Whatever are we to do then???? And therefore it is completely normal and a civic duty to blast Black fans in the comments of everything that they say about the show or the books.

I've been seeing people unironically football tackle reaction posts of the show with paragraphs worth of text that is inflammatory and backhanded. This is even more apparent when the poster is visibly black or uses AAVE. The association is that Black people who use AAVE or memes obviously are uneducated, lack media literacy, and cannot consume content the way that "White" fans do.

It is an attempt to tone police Black fans away from creating new topics of discussion or creating/expanding the fandom space with the growing watcher-base. It always has to happen in their chosen language, on their time, in the places they can reach us and yell some more. They are very discomforted when Black fans have pockets in fandom where they can't be outnumbered and they do in fact control discourse in a way that isn't productive to respectability. (As much as I am a big fan of big words and rambling, that is somewhat what is expected in this fandom as a Black person to be considered "respectable" and I'm not willing to ignore or shy away from that).

This is also hand in hand with my previous thoughts about fans' dog-whistling about media becoming accessible/mainstream and how "Others" will ruin it and outnumber them. I noticed that in the IWTV fandom, it seems like white fans believe that the "Others" is just Black Twitter in general. Not just "Twitter" but specifically Black people who don't fit into their narrow respectability politics.

I hate to tell you all this, but Black fandom culture is still fandom culture, and Black people do in fact read and write. I should not be seeing a pattern of random white fans going into the comments of Black people who mention IWTV and automatically assuming that they have no clue what they're talking about.

Like clockwork, exactly as when the show came out, racist white book fans started up the discourse of "The Black people are going to ruin fandom with their racism discourse and spit on Anne Rice!" and then when that time passed, the show reaches Max, and here they go barking again.... We really need to get a muzzle.

[positivelybeastly]

Hey there! The post you made about the core of a well written Hank McCoy inspired me to ask if you'd be willing to do a similar deep dive into Hanks various relationships over the years. Not in a shippy way in so much as a pros and cons of the relationships ( all relationships have them , even good ones) and how they reflect on and influence Hanks character over time.

Hello hello! I would indeed be willing to do a deep dive, and, at the same time, find out if Tumblr text posts have a word limit! I also realised maybe 20 characters in that you meant actual. Relationships, as in romantic, and I've done just. Basically. All of his relationships. Including platonic ones. Oops. Oh well, hope you enjoy!

These won't be quite as exhaustive as if you asked me about a particular relationship, since I always work best with plenty of image resources and I already know I'm going to hit my image limit early, but I hope I can give at least my general thoughts on how Hank has influenced and changed, and been and influenced by, the following characters.

Edna and Norton McCoy

X-Men Unlimited vol. 1 #10, 1996.

You have to start all the way back at the beginning, and Hank's relationship with his parents is crucial to understanding why he is the way he is. Hank is the by product of a radiation accident that nearly killed his father, which led to the odd nature of his mutation - namely, that it manifested at birth in the form of abnormally large hands and feet.

This was, in many ways, the best case scenario that Edna and Norton could have hoped for, that their child not miscarry, be stillborn, or be born with a disability that would massively impact his quality of living - this was a very real possibility for them. So Hank being the way he was, actually stronger, more agile, and more dextrous than a normal child, and not to mention a genius intellect even at a young age (not related to his mutation, but it certainly didn't hurt) created a bit of a miracle baby effect.

They were unremittingly supportive and loving - they supported his choice in academics, they supported his football career, they supported his choice of girlfriends, they pushed him to be the best that he could be but never put undue pressure on him. He grew up feeling like he could do anything he wanted to, if he simply chose to.

The worst I can say about this relationship is that you could view it as fostering his ego - perhaps if they had tamped down on his ambitions a bit, maybe he never would have turned himself blue and furry in a fit of 'I know better than everyone else,' but I think that's a lot to put on his parents, honestly. He made that decision, and he has no-one to blame but himself for making it. Blaming his parents for that is like blaming your parents for daring to make you believe you can grow up to be somebody - like, what's the alternative, making you believe that you'll never be anybody? Horrible way to parent.

There's a bump in Marvel Team-Up #124 (1982) where Edna freaks out about her child growing up to be a superhero and more physically obvious mutant, but it's resolved when Hank proves himself to be a man of caliber and altruism, putting himself in harm's way to save a child - proving himself to be the boy that Edna raised, and she returns the favour, putting her life at risk to save him from Professor Power.

He may not be the CPA or 'normal' genius she may have wanted, but he's still brilliant, and she realises that quickly. I also think it's notable that Norton, his father, doesn't go through a similar patch, which is attributable to the fact that he sees Hank's mutation as his 'fault', as you can see in the panels above - he can't exactly blame Hank for being who he is, he's explicitly responsible for it. It would be the height of ridiculous for him to come down on Hank for who he is, when who he is is a direct result of Norton's act of heroism.

In many ways, Hank can do no wrong in his parents' eyes - but in many ways, Hank never does do wrong by his parents. He makes their lives comfortable and improves on it in a lot of ways with his intellect, and he keeps them safe as best he can. They're a little disappointed they aren't grandparents when we last hear from them in 2018, in the X-Men Christmas Special, but they're still defensive of him and love him, even though he's changed for a third time.

Charles Xavier

X-Force vol. 6 #20, 2021.

You knew this one was coming. You'll note that this is one of the few times that I'm going to use something from Benjamin Percy's X-Force in this deep dive, mostly because it's one of the few times that Percy comes close to examining who Hank is and why he is the way that he is. It's one of the few times in X-Force that anyone asks, why is Hank doing what he's doing? Why is he committing these actions?

Because, in many ways, he's still chasing Charles Xavier's approval.

Charles does Hank maybe the biggest disservice of any of his original X-Men, save maybe Scott - while he plucks Scott out of an abusive home and then moulds him into a soldier for his dream, pretty much completely failing to give him any coping mechanisms for what that's going to do to Scott's relationships with other people and his ability to maintain a normal life, Charles plucks Hank out of a loving home, and cuts him off from it. He telepathically wipes Hank's parents' mind of his existence for a while, to 'protect' him, but really, he's isolating Hank, and installing himself as a father figure.

Whether he realises he's doing this or not is immaterial, because it's canon, as established in Marvel Presents #85-92 (1991) and reaffirmed in X-Men Origins: Beast (2008). And though Hank doesn't appreciate it, on some level hates Charles for it forever, he falls for it, because he is a fundamentally altruistic person who knows he has a responsibility to use his intellect and his mutation to make life better for other people - this is the canon reason he joins the X-Men, and it's important to remember that, because he has no need of training to foster his gifts like Jean or Bobby, and he has a home, unlike Scott. In many ways, he's actually most like Warren, but we'll get to that.

There are moments where Hank separates from Xavier, most notably in Uncanny X-Men #8 (1964) and Amazing Adventures #11 (1971), and it's significant that the latter split leads to, arguably, the best years of his life, where he's freest to be who he wants to be and enjoy his life. He joins the Avengers and the Defenders, he becomes a sex symbol, he feels comfortable in his own skin, he explicitly feels no pressure to use his intellectual gifts, and instead is, arguably, most himself.

It's especially interesting when you consider that even with all that in mind, he still matures and grows up and realises, independently of Xavier, that he still has a responsibility to help - but rather than being inorganically forced to take on that role by a man he doesn't know, he realises it in New Defenders #142 (1985) when a mutant activist calls him out on his immaturity and his lack of forward momentum.

Hank self-reflects, and self-actualises, and forms a grassroots mutant political activist group called M.O.N.S.T.E.R (Mutants Only Need Sensitivity, Tolerance, and Equal Rights), which is something that Charles would NEVER do. Its emphasis on elevating mutants everywhere, rather than focusing on providing examples of mutant heroism like the X-Men, is unique, and I really do wish we'd gotten to see more of a grass roots approach to mutant politics. But.

Then, Hank gets pulled into X-Factor, and all of that goes away. Then, he gets pulled into the X-Men, and his life becomes smaller. And smaller, and smaller, and smaller. And his life becomes worse, and worse, and worse. Eventually, he hits the point where Charles is handing him an Infinity Stone, and consigning him to joining the Illuminati in his stead, and Hank doesn't want to be there, but he feels obligated to, because this was Charles' last wish, his literal will and testament, and he can't say no to that. But he should've. Because it tortures him, and it all ends up being for nothing anyway. Thanks, Chuck.

That being said, I think one of the most telling depictions of Hank and the Professor's relationship actually comes from Astonishing X-Men vol. 3 #12, where Scott is dressing down the Professor for enslaving Danger. Something I really appreciate about that scene is that it highlights how different Hank and Scott are in their relationship with Xavier.

Perhaps because Scott grew up with an abusive parental figure in Jack Winters and Hank grew up with very loving parents, Scott was able to recognise Charles' toxic behaviour and break away from Xavier - it might also have had something to do with the fact that at least one of Charles' biggest fuck ups had to do with Scott's brother Gabriel? Hard to say. But Hank, who Charles very carefully isolated from his parents by mindwiping them for years of Hank's whole existence, never really managed to break free of him, and it shows here really acutely.

Hell, it arguably never went away, even into the Krakoan era - a more interesting version of X-Force would have really dived into the kind of fucked up dynamic they have, where Chuck keeps covering for Beast's moral transgressions for seemingly no reason, because in some respects, he's responsible for them. He gave him the power, he gave him no oversight, but even more pressingly, he wasn't there for him emotionally. He pulled him into this life and didn't prepare him for the toll it would take, how much it would ruin Beast by the time he gets to Krakoa. Beast needed someone to help him there, and no-one did, which is part of why he went on the skids, I think.

But anyway, Whedon does a lot of moments where Hank is present for scenes but doesn't speak, which is important for a character who's well known for not shutting the fuck up. This, the initial cure conversation, the whole conversation about Piotr - Hank clams up. He doesn't feel like he can talk about it. He's off in his own head, his thoughts are his own, he doesn't feel the need to share them.

And here, it's especially important, because this is a big moral violation that Charles has committed in their name. I know it may be hard to remember, but back in the day, Hank had a moral opinion that was worth something, so the fact that he doesn't say anything here speaks volumes about just how much he feels capable of calling out the Professor, i.e. not at all. He craves Xavier's validation, his approval, he feels a kinship with Chuck. So he doesn't criticise him like he should.

It's especially interesting given that this would continue through the Utopia era. Every time Scott distanced himself from Xavier, Hank was there to comfort Charles, and I feel like that's just something he feels like he has to do. He feels like the devoted brother to Scott's more radical, more willing to criticise brother, and if Bendis had any interest in Beast as a character, he would've played on that in All-New X-Men - the fact that Scott killed their toxic father figure, and Beast feels both free of an influence he didn't know was choking him, but outraged that Scott would break their 'family' like that.

I find Beast compelling because of his flaws, and this is an interesting moment when you take all of that into account. I don't even know if that was the intention of this scene, or if Whedon just wanted to give Scott the speech, but it's interesting, nonetheless, and it really shines a light on how Hank and Charles see each other. I'm very interested to see Hank's take on where Charles has ended up in From the Ashes, because it has the potential to really change that dynamic.

Scott Summers

Astonishing X-Men vol. 3 #34, 2010.

Hank McCoy is Scott Summers' best friend.

I said it because it's true, and it's true reading all the way back to the Silver Age, honestly. Even as Bobby's screaming his head off about Scott being a stuck up asshole, Hank's quietly reminding Bobby that Scott can't be anyone other than who he is, "he can't help his psychological make-up," and I think that gets at a really important part of their relationship. Just as Scott's mind is attractive to telepaths because it's so neatly ordered and makes perfect sense to them, Scott's personality is appealing to Hank because he makes sense to him. Scott is orderly, anxious, dedicated, intelligent, hides his true feelings, and wants to belong, even as he stands apart. Hank is most, if not all, of these things, and so, they get each other. Bobby fucks around, Warren schmoozes and gets cocky, Jean is a GIRL AND THEREFORE SCARY, but Hank and Scott just get each other.

Which makes it all the more tragic when they fall apart, because Hank sees it all and it makes sense to him, even as it breaks his heart. What a lot of people misunderstand about Hank's arc during Utopia is that they read his moral grandstanding as self-righteousness or hypocrisy or a big ol' stick he wants to use to hit people with, and it's honestly not that. I really don't think it is.

I think he sees Scott sacrificing the parts of himself that make him a good man so that he can make a better general, and it terrifies him. He sees him become callous, manipulative, cold-blooded, willing to risk everything on a course of action because he believes he's right. Hank thinks he's fighting for the soul of the X-Men, for his own soul, for Scott's soul, even as everyone else is fighting for mutantkind.

Hank went through his own journey in Endangered Species, and he knows that there's nothing he can do, so why fight it? Why not just stop, and live out his days being the best man he can be, a member of the first and last generation of mutants, and let it go? Because no-one saw what he saw.

No-one saw the end of mutantkind inscribed on the vellum of reality like he did, saw what he would become if he did what Scott did and did anything and everything to stop the death of the mutant race - no-one else knows how close he came to jumping into the abyss and becoming Dark Beast. And no-one, honestly, cares. Hank doesn't tell anyone, because he never does, but it absolutely informs his views going forward. It can't not.

But no-one is interested enough in Hank McCoy's feelings to really ask why he's so insistent, or what happened when he was gone. He's a private individual, and he never told anyone. He felt profoundly ashamed of what he did while he was gone, which didn't exactly help. So his moral insistence just comes across as hatred, and it's not. He loves Scott Summers like a brother. That's why he fought so hard to keep him the way he was, not the way he became.

I also find it interesting that, in some ways, Hank is responsible for Scott becoming a happier, more well-adjusted individual, if in the most fucked up and irresponsible and manipulative way possible. Even in the midst of their relationship being at its lowest point, Hank was inadvertently responsible for time displaced Scott joining the Champions and getting to spend time with his father, giving him precious memories of a life not lived for Xavier that he didn't have before, and it's arguable that that's part of what mellowed Scott, coming out of the Death of X/revolution era.

It's not a good thing that Hank did that, obviously, he did it because - well, because he was having a brain aneurysm called Brian Michael Bendis, but whatever, it wouldn't have happened without Hank's intervention. I don't know if it's fair to give Hank credit for this, because those are Scott's choices and Scott's relationships, but the sequence of events is such. Idk. I try to see the best in Hank's actions and make them make sense to how I see the character.

A better version of X-Force would have made Scott central to Hank's descent into darkness, because it's frankly too obvious a connection to make, but whatever, we missed that boat. I just know that, just like how Hank didn't want for Scott to hollow himself out like he did, Scott wouldn't have wanted Hank to hollow himself out like he did, either, and I'm glad to see that reflected in MacKay's X-Men #1. I hope that friendship is rebuilt, because it deserves to be.

Jean Grey

New X-Men #124, 2002.

Hank McCoy is Jean Grey's brother.

Okay, so maybe not biologically, but they are basically brother and sister. It's why the stabs at making a relationship between them have never really worked for me, and I just enjoy the friendship moments between them too much to think of them together romantically. They're both intensely empathetic, deep feeling, loving characters, and in some ways, despite Jean being a literal telepath, Hank actually gets people better than Jean does sometimes (see X-Men Annual '95) because where she can be blinded by anger and passion and justice, Hank sees people for who they are and what they want very easily.

Almost any time that Hank is feeling blue (heehee) in 90s X-Men or New X-Men, it's Jean that pulls him out of it, because she's spent the most time learning what his habits are, when he's not really feeling as all right as he promises, and I honestly don't think it's a massive coincidence that the period that adult Jean spends dead (2005-2017) is a period that Hank spends alternately depressed, irrational, or alone. Maybe that's a form of dependency? Possibly. I just think they're best friends and that they make each other better when they're around one another.

Hank believes in Jean. He walks through the snow, thinking the rest of the X-Men are dead, believing that if he can at least get Jean out, then maybe he hasn't failed. He gets yanked onto the Shi'ar flagship, hears about what Dark Phoenix did, and instantly tries to throw the book at Empress Lilandra because he believes in Jean, and he believes in justice and law and due process. He watches her manifest the Phoenix and piece Emma together with her telekinesis, yanking her consciousness into her body once more, and even though he's afraid, he sticks with her. He trusts her with his mind, giving her his anatomy knowledge so she can work informed, even as the flames of her Phoenix form lick at his arm and burn him.

Hank believes in Jean Grey.

Bobby Drake

X-Men: First Class #4, 2007.

Bobby Drake is Hank McCoy's first best friend.

There were definitely great friends beforehand (Jennifer Nyles comes to mind), but in terms of making Hank feel normal, in terms of becoming friends to have fun and just hang out and because you simply like each other's vibes and feel comfortable each other? Yeah, Bobby is absolutely Hank's first best friend.

It's probably best exemplified in New Defenders, especially #122, where Bobby just. Needs Hank. He needs his best friend. Hank always has a knack for chasing away Bobby's blues, and you see it again and again throughout that run, where Hank is just who Bobby goes to first whenever he's feeling bad (as well as in 90s X-Men), because Hank always seems to know what to say.

I also don't think it's an exaggeration to say that there must've been a lot of good feeling going on for notable stick in the mud 60s Hank and retroactively gay Bobby to go out on double dates with Vera and Zelda. Hank bought an entire cabin so that they'd have a place to go to. Can you think of anyone else that Hank's done that for? I rest my case. (Is it all a little gay? Maybe. But it's not gay if the socks stay on.)

Where this relationship falls apart is when Bobby stops growing before Hank does, and what Hank needs outpaces what Bobby can provide, as seen in Uncanny X-Men #518. It's not necessarily Bobby's fault, he's just - not a very emotionally capable person, a lot of the time, his primary character flaw is an inability to grow up, and so Hank throws something heavy at him, and his best, most immediate impulse is to just say, well, deal with it how you've always dealt with it.

And that's just not good enough. And in many ways, I think Hank just stops trusting Bobby at that point, to the extreme where Bobby calls out for every other member of the original X-Men but him at the 2023 Hellfire Gala as he dies, and I wasn't surprised one bit. They stop appearing in comics together, Hank doesn't feature in his modern solo series' at all, and their interactions are fine, but nowhere near what they were.

Warren Worthington

Uncanny X-Men #297, 1992.

Warren is the original X-Man that Hank is most like.

Which, you might think is strange, given that Warren is a rich kid with wings and Hank is a farmboy quarterback with big feet, but it's true, by virtue of three facts - one, they're the two most obvious, physically mutated members of the O5.

Two, they came to heroism on their own. Warren's turn as the Avenging Angel, and Hank's fighting against the Conquistador in his origin, both predate their time as X-Men, and this is massively important in their development because it demonstrates that altruism and self-sacrifice are intrinsic in their characters. They believe in doing good things to help people, or stopping bad people from doing bad things, because it's the right thing to do. Whereas Scott and Jean and Bobby emerged from tragedy and ruin, Hank and Warren came from a place of stability and a desire to do good.

Three, they both undergo a terrifying physical metamorphosis that causes massive changes in their personalities, Warren becoming Archangel and Hank becoming a much more literal Beast. This point of commonality is a rock for them both, and as you can see, it helps them through. They realise that for all their struggles with the other aspects of their new selves, they're still, in the ways that count, the same people - they're still the friends they always were.

It's also very significant to me that Warren is the X-Man that Hank first 'comes out' to as the Beast, in Amazing Adventures #15 (1971), and I don't think it's a real coincidence that even as Charles tries to assert that Hank's protest that he's his own man, not an X-Man, and Jean shies away in shock from the vehemence with which Hank rejects their telepathic call, Warren calls bullshit and just goes.

He asserts himself. He's independent, and he breaks from the X-Men, much like Hank and Bobby did, Hank going to the Avengers and Bobby and Warren to the Champions, then all three of them to the Defenders - even as Scott and Jean stay with the X-Men, a decision that will lead to a whole line of catastrophe that ends with Jean dead, and Scott resigned to a life left unfulfilled because his one true love is dead.

Meanwhile, Hank, Bobby and Warren are clustered in a borrowed quinjet in their best togs, going to a wedding. Warren asks why he and Bobby are going along, given they hardly know the couple. Hank replies Warren that he's family, and he wants them there, and that's that, and there's a quiet, warm little smile on his face, because he is. They are.

I also find it very interesting that Hank and Warren undergo a very similar trajectory, tracking from Utopia to the Dark Angel Saga for Warren, and All-New X-Men to Krakoa for Hank - they cloister themselves off from others, they lose sight of who they originally were, they roll around in the blood of innocents, and in the end, they both end up dying and losing their memories, born anew.

Like I said. Warren is the original X-Man that Hank is most like.

Jennifer Nyles

X-Men Unlimited vol. 2 #10, 2005.

Jen is an underrated figure in Hank's history, and that's mostly because she has very limited appearances, none of which quite make sense with one another. Her first appearance in Marvel Presents #85-92 posits that she was, in many ways, Hank's first love, the person he missed most of all those who were made to forget him, and that the absence of him in her mind compelled her to study the mind so that she might try and unlock what she knew was missing. In the end, he stays away from her, because she nearly dies and he feels he endangers her. He probably does.

Then, we have a retroactive appearance in Origins: Beast, and the above story in Unlimited. Origins: Beast doubles down on her importance, stating that she's the person who encourages Hank to come out of his shell even before he's an X-Man, to use his gifts and be the brilliant person she knows he is, and while Unlimited agrees with that importance, she knows who Hank is at a time when she shouldn't. How to square it away? Ehh. I kinda don't. I like the three stories and how they impact and change and demonstrate Hank's qualities too much to try and change them. Instead, I just enjoy them.

In another life, Hank and Jen absolutely got married and they had a brilliant history together. She's almost as smart as he is, just as fiery (she punches out a bully antagonising Hank), and she has a strong moral, empathetic core. Hank, honestly, has a type. But even more than a romantic figure, I like her as an inspirational figure for Hank, someone that pushes him in the right direction and leads him to the right answers without giving them to him. She accepts him at a time when he needed it most, and helps him rebuild his life.

Tony Stark

Amazing Adventures #14, 1972.

For a pair of geniuses that snark at each other almost non-stop whenever they're around, and who feel almost constantly at loggerheads in classic Avengers, Tony is very important to Hank's development, sometimes by virtue of his faults.

First off, he's the superhero who turns up to investigate Hank's transformation at Brand, and his apparent death there at Hank's hands (a Mastermind illusion) and his mercy and understanding of the torment that Hank is undergoing are massively formative in Hank coming to terms with his new bestial form. He teaches Hank's two lessons - one, that he needs to control himself in a way he didn't need to before, and two, that he can still rely on people to see the human in him if he acts it.

Secondly - it's his inadvertent dismissal of Hank during the Avengers' examination of Wonder Man that sparks off Hank getting annoyed about his genius being ignored, pushes him out of the Mansion in a snit . . . and that's when he discovers that he's not just adjusting to being a beast anymore. No, he's fucking hot now. Even when he's being a dick (without really meaning to), Tony helps Hank grow, helping him realise that he doesn't need to be the high performing intellectual he was on the X-Men, the Avengers have that covered, but also, that he can afford to be someone else as well.

They continue to be friends for years and years, with their friendship built up over the course of plenty of classic Avengers issues, leading to a complete bypassing of a big ol' hero vs. hero fight in X-Factor Annual #1 (1986) because Hank's just like, oh hey, Iron Man, it's me, and Tony's just like, oh hey Beast, what the fuck's all this about? And it just. Fixes the problem.

I also don't think that it's a coincidence that Hank and Tony are the two most visibly affected when the Illuminati mindwipe Steve during the Incursions arc, with Hank unable to even really look at Steve when it happens, and Hank is constantly pulling on that morality chain even as they tie each other into knots, trying to justify the destruction of worlds. For as much as they give each other shit, Hank and Tony can rely on each other to give it to 'em straight, and that's important when their heads can get as big as these guys.

Wanda Maximoff

Uncanny Avengers vol. 3 #30, 2017.

Hank should hate Wanda more than he does.

The event that Wanda caused, the Decimation, was, in a lot of people's opinions, the beginning of the end for Henry McCoy. It stripped him of his morality and his pretensions and his ability to do anything. It was the height of cruelty, and Wanda did it without arguably meaning to. Not casually, but in a moment of instability. Leaving a gaping wound in evolution that Hank tried to fix.

He threw away a lot, trying to fix it. He wrecked a lot of relationships, came away feeling dirty, consorted with demons. Became acutely aware of every one of his limitations. And yet. He never really blamed her. Because how could he?

After all, he knew Wanda before the mess. When she was a brilliant friend and teammate on the Avengers. When she was shining, glimmering proof that people could change and become better, if only they tried and were given the chance. When she was at her best. And he never stopped believing she could be that again. It certainly didn't help that they had a certain wonder man in common, but honestly, they're just great friends.

Hank supported her in Children's Crusade, even in the face of the X-Men going kill crazy, and he never held a grudge. Even when he finds her, at the end of his rope, in Endangered Species, when he's at his most fraught and defeated, he just. Wants to fix things. It would be so easy to be hateful and resentful, but he just doesn't have it in him. After all, he knows what it's like to ruin your life in an instant because of a bad decision, and to want to claw it back however you can.

Carol Danvers

Ms. Marvel vol. 2 #18, 2007.

Honestly, for someone who you often see getting blasted on the X-Men Reddit for the Superhuman Registration Act/where were you when our babies were burning panels, Carol has a lot of really strong relationships within the X-Men, but I think her bond with Hank is especially strong - which is saying something, considering their first meeting was a fight! But, honestly, they just like and respect each other. They don't tolerate injustice, they believe in being heroes for everyone, not just the few, and they support each other.

Even in the midst of Civil War II, arguably the single worst that Carol has ever been written (not counting Avengers #200, take your pick of a character assassination), there's a moment where Tony is begging Carol to rethink her Minority Report bullshit, and she says, fine, I'll consider your evidence - but only if Hank checks it. And he says he has, and it's not wrong. And she knows that that means something.

The best friends will tell you when you're wrong. And you'll listen to them.

Heather Douglas

The New Defenders #139, 1984.

Hank and Heather have an almost constantly combative relationship from the instant Moondragon joins the Defenders, with Hank never afraid to let her know that he doesn't like her and that he doesn't want her on 'his' team. In his estimation she's high, and mighty, and conceited, and possessed of more power than wisdom.

And. Guess what?

Hank's fucking wrong. Heather is trying. Yes, she backslides, she has her moments of true ego and duplicity, but it takes Hank far too long to come to realise that she's trying as hard as she is - and frankly, she's right to smack him down and humiliate him from time to time, because he can be conceited. He acts as though the Defenders are his team, and he harbours pretensions of leadership that no-one takes seriously, because Hank is not a leader, you don't even have to dislike him to know that - and it takes him a while to realise that.

Their combative relationship keeps the other in check. They grow as a result of being around one another, even if they never quite settled things between them. Hank's maturation into a grown adult, into a man able to be more than just a superhero, is in no small part thanks to Moondragon's barbs and pushes and slaps at his ego, and he should be grateful that he got the chance to make good on that chance to mature, because Heather didn't, in the end.

Alison Blaire

Marvel Heartbreakers #1, 2010.

I'm gonna be real, the Beauty and the Beast miniseries by Ann Nocenti is not great. It has moments of fun, some pathos, but for the most part, it's incredibly soapy, incredibly hackneyed, goes nowhere, has a lot of weird anti-set up, and Hank is strangely incredibly violent and cruel in it at times. For someone claiming Hank was his usual charming self, Nocenti sure wrote him as a borderline psycho.

But. The Heartbreakers epilogue for that relationship redeems it, honestly, and it gains added poignancy when a future version of Alison is killed in Battle of the Atom, in one of the few instances of that series actually managing a moment of pathos. There's no magic trick to why Hank and Alison work, they just sort of find each other hot and fun and they're there for each other in a weird, fucked up time in Alison's life, so maybe it was inevitable that it faded to nothing.

I just like to think there's always a lingering softness, a lingering what if, for the both of them. A potential of something, if not an actual something.

Vera Cantor

The New Defenders #149, 1985.

Oh, Vera . . . you deserved better.

Gonna be brutally honest, Hank treated Vera kinda like shit. I don't think he meant to, it was never a relationship he was invested in, and he said as much, he was interested in the stability it represented, but I'm genuinely sorry for Vera that she got caught up in the crossfire of it. She was dismissed and treated like a pick-up, drop-off girlfriend when she was looking for a good man - and Hank is a good man, but at this point? Not what she was looking for. Not what she needed.

I'm glad we see her again in X-Factor and she's doing well for herself. I'm fairly convinced that she's a lesbian because Hank may have ruined men for her (in the not good way), but hey, a pro-mutant activist? That's pretty worthy - and considering how Hank treated her, pretty big minded. I like to think this taught Hank to be more considerate of people's feelings and grow out of his womaniser stage.

Julio Richter

X-Factor vol. 1 #18, 1987.

For a character often defined by his teaching abilities, Hank actually wasn't a particularly great teacher or carer for children when he first started - I always think there's a good deal of significance in the fact that X-Factor #1 has him searching out a position in academia, being rejected out of prejudice, but then finding his way to a teaching position through way of X-Factor, though I doubt that was planned.

Regardless of whether or not it was planned, I do think his relationship with Julio Richter, or Rictor, is massively important to Hank's development, because everything that Hank gets wrong with Tabitha Smith, he gets right with Julio. He encourages him, gives him his clothes, never talks down to him, nurtures his potential, pushes him to learn and think for himself - and it's rewarded.

Julio imprints on Hank strongly, and you can see that he favours Hank amongst all the other X-Factor members for a reason. This relationship largely went away in future, sadly, but I always like to think that it remains in some fashion, even if only in small ways.

Trish Tilby

X-Factor vol. 1 #36, 1988.

Yeah, you knew this was coming.

Honestly . . . I can see what Hank saw in her as a human being. She's a woman of fierce convictions. She believes in truth, and honesty, and justice. She is pro-mutant, after a fashion. And I have to give her credit, she does have her moments of heroism, like in this issue, when she risks her life to help Hank save a bridge of people as Inferno kicks into high gear. There are moments of good between them.

But fuck me she's an awful human being.

Leaking the fact that the Legacy Virus has jumped to humans directly leads to a mutant hate crime that ends in a death. She barges in to a sick, dying man's hospital room in the search of a scoop. And I'm not even gonna get into what happened when Hank turned feline.

She's just a trainwreck of breaches of journalistic ethics, and I hate her to bits. If she taught Hank anything, it was that the people you admire and love can disappoint you, and it says a lot that it's a one-two punch of her, and Cassandra fucking Nova that shatters Hank's self-esteem into a million pieces. What rarified company. The very fact that she tries to get back together with Hank after this, like, what even the fuck, man.

Jubilation Lee

Uncanny X-Men #308, 1993.

These two make me smile.

I think Jubilee awakens something very simple and immature in Hank, but something healthy at the same time - she encourages him, and everyone else at the Mansion, up to and including Professor X, to have fun. At a time when they were losing people left and right, it would have been easy to lose heart, but Jubilee kept Hank and the rest of the team bolstered, kept them focused. That's no small thing, honestly. Maybe she doesn't have quite as strong a relationship with Hank as she does Logan - that's a hard bond to match - but it's hard not to look at these two and see a true blue friendship.

I also adore that it came back in full force in X-Men vol. 4 (2013), where Hank often acted as mission and home support for the all-female team of X-Men that featured in that book. Taking care of baby Shogo, helping Omega Sentinel with her physical rehab - Hank was an invaluable asset in that run, and his scenes with Jubilee were always a treat.

Dark Beast

X-Men: Endangered Species, 2007.

"For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known."

Dark Beast is such a well constructed character because he is not just Henry McCoy if Henry McCoy were evil. Dark Beast is, what if Henry McCoy were raised in an evil world that believes in evil things and the only thing to do is be evil, lest it kill you? There's such a curious drive to betterment, to becoming stronger, smarter, more, to him, that speaks to the same in Hank, but it's all just so twisted up. It's driven by fear where it's driven by hope in Hank.

Because he is afraid. And he is human, much as he might hate the label.

He's a warning. He's a check and balance. He's a cruel joke. He's a monster. He's the other side of Hank's fears. Hank fears devolution, becoming more of an animal, giving in to the Beast, but Dark Beast represents evolution, becoming less animal and more - other. Something that considers itself above human, animal, mutant. Intelligence without conscience, drive without wisdom.

He's not what all Hank McCoys inevitably become. That's stupid, and basic, and anyone who believes that is stupid and basic. That's genetic essentialism, and it's shit media literacy. It's also the basis for X-Force (2019) and I reject that hypothesis entirely.

Henry's much more interesting than evil Hank - not just because he's funnier, and better at his job, and a more efficient villain, but because try as he might, there's still something essentially human inside of him. Something stopped him from killing Hank's - his - parents.

An essential, viral, inescapable fact.

There's something good in him, just as there's something bad in Hank. And it will bedevil them both forever, because they can't get rid of it.

Cecilia Reyes

Astonishing X-Men vol. 3, 2012.

Honestly, maybe the most grown up and equal relationship that Hank ever had, and I don't really feel like he even really had the chance to have it. Cecilia is everything Trish wishes she could be, and much more besides. Uncompromising in her morals, fiercely dedicated to healing, defensive of her boundaries, strong, independent, intelligent, funny - and kind.

She held a torch for him, for a long time. There's a lot of pictures of him in her apartment, both from the 90s and his feline form. She felt for him in a way maybe he didn't realise. Maybe he's the one who got away. Maybe she is. Either way, these two just. Work. There's a world out there where they became something more, and that's a happier world for Hank, honestly. But, hey ho.

Emma Frost

New X-Men #123, 2002.

Sometimes friendships don't make sense. Other times they do.

The friendship between Hank and Emma always made sense to me. The wit, the banter, the emotional intelligence, the willingness to play to roles assigned to them by their image - they were practically destined to be friends. And yet, often forgotten. Every now and then, it crops up, and I cherish it, but for the most part, they're just irrepressibly bitchy all the way through Morrison's run, and that'll always be special to me.

I always try and see good where I can, and I wanted to post an exchange from Secret Empire Omega where Hank tries to bolster Emma in the wake of New Tian's fall, because I like the moment for them, but in the end, it's just too poor of an event and a context for me to share it. All my props to Nadia Shammas in the X-Force Annual, the one issue of X-Force I thought actually had a decent handle on a villainous Beast - by sheer virtue of actually remembering that people would care. Emma would care.

Abigail Brand

Siege vol. 2 #2, 2015.

Abigail Brand did not make Hank McCoy into a war criminal.

To say so is to betray a basic lack of understanding of this entire relationship, but then, what else is new? A lot of people seemingly don't get who Hank is and why he works. Out of universe, but also in, oddly enough.

Kate Pryde and Kurt Wagner both speculate about what made Hank into what he became in X-Force, and they think it's Abigail, because that's an easy explanation, but it's not the truth. Not remotely. It betrays that they didn't know Hank as well as they thought they did, and Hank died not being known by a lot of people.

Which . . . sucks. But it is what it is.

Abigail knew him. She knew him as a kind man. Kinder than her. Kinder than anyone. She wanted that kindness. Craved it. Needed it. Managed to jam it into her work life, by hook and by crook. But I don't think Hank minded. At that point in his life, he needed what she offered, and though I don't think either of them ever thought they'd catch real feelings, they both absolutely did.

He kept her honest, she gave him options. He gave her moral dimension, she gave him self-esteem. They complemented each other perfectly, and I'm sorry that they never got a fair chance, really.

Sure, it was all essentially motivated by a desire to get good dick, but sometimes, that's all it needs to be.

Kurt Wagner

Uncanny X-Men: The Heroic Age, 2010.

Ahhh, Kurt . . . honestly, I don't think Hank and Kurt were ever shown to be quite as close on panel as you'd think they would be, in part because there's a One Blue Limit on X-Men teams for a while (seriously, check the X-Men team line-ups, and you'll realise that Hank and Kurt are pretty much never on the same team until 2015, with Amazing X-Men, a team Hank promptly leaves at issue #5).

But I like to think they're good friends, even if Kurt does fall for Hank's facade of being okay, just like a lot of other people. I like to think that Kurt represents a kind of ideal to Hank - he's what Hank, in many ways, wishes he could be. A better man. A happier man. A more hopeful man. A man who believes in a higher power, still. I certainly don't think it's a coincidence that it cuts Hank deep, when Kurt dies at Bastion's hands.

Steve Rogers

Secret Avengers vol. 1 #21, 2012.

Hank and Steve have an odd relationship. In a way, he does a lot for Hank, bolstering him during his time in the Avengers, treating him as a valued teammate - even if, as is typical of 70s writing styles, they can both come across as cunts to one another occasionally - and one of my favourite moments for Hank is in Avengers Annual #11, where Steve calls Hank out as a man who won't kill. Doesn't have it in him.

Which makes this moment, a sequel to what Steve pushes Hank to do in Secret Avengers #16, hurt so much. Steve had to know what it would cost Hank, to shortcut his way into an Oppenheimer arc, but he hoped the math would comfort Hank. I don't think it did.

I don't know if it was intentional, but it haunts me that both Scott and Steve use Hank (Scott during Secret Invasion, and Steve in SA #16) to commit acts of mass murder, and try to console him with the numbers of people saved through atrocity. Hank tried to escape all of that, fleeing from Utopia, and maybe he was naive to think a band of Secret Avengers would be a place to hide from doing bad things, but it doesn't change the essential fact. Scott and Steve used Hank to achieve their goals, and he had to just deal with it.

"Are you seriously asking a mutant what he'll do to avoid extinction?" Mindwiping Steve in New Avengers vol. 3 hurt, I'm sure, but it's a fine old thing, trying to morally grandstand to a man you explicitly used to make a nuclear bomb. A lot of mixed up history in that room.

Broo

Wolverine & the X-Men vol. 1 #7, 2012.

If only Hank's adopted sons were given as much attention and care as Wolverine's adopted daughters. Ah well. There was a lot of work being done over this run, to make it clear that Hank, Abigail and Broo were forming a family unit, including Abigail being there as Broo's parental figure during his graduation and a possible future showing Broo as head of S.W.O.R.D, but all of it eventually came to naught, which saddens me. Broo deserved better. So did Hank.

Time Displaced Beast

X-Men: Blue #35, 2018.

There was a kernel of an idea here.

It was inevitable that Hank was going to end up hating himself. He's a character largely defined by self-hatred, in most of his forms. The thread that never got pulled was the fact that, honestly?

Older Hank should hate younger Hank just as much.

Younger Hank is much closer to the man who turns them blue, who's ego tripping at Brand, than older Hank is. That's what leads him down this entire path, of magic and demon summoning and servitude, that's broken only by the intervention of other X-Men.

But, whatever. The era of lost potential, tbh.

. . . . . . . .

Oh, hey. You're still here?

Yeah, I guess there is someone missing, huh?

Simon Williams

Uncanny Avengers vol. 3 #28, 2017.

Avengers Annual #6, 1976.

X-Force vol. 6 #49, 2024.

Avengers vol. 3 #14, 1999.

Wonder Man vol. 2 #5, 1991.

Avengers Annual vol. 2 #1, 2012.

They complete one another.

They simply are their best selves around one another.

Even when sick, and twisted, and cruel, and beyond redemption, Hank couldn't bear for the possibility of harm to an invulnerable, immortal, ionic man. He would rather dash all of his plans, make it all for nothing, kill himself, than risk hurting Simon.

At the start of this whole ass breakdown, you said, all relationships have pros and cons. And I think that's true. Mostly. But when Hank and Simon are together, nothing can tear them apart, nothing can bring them down, nothing can stop them, nothing can keep them from doing the right thing.

I can't think of a negative to them being together.

They love each other.

Thanks for bearing with me. :)

[plague-of-insomnia]

Hi, I saw a post a while ago looking at the original Japanese version of Sebastian's "I have gone through great pain to cultivate you" that I just can't seem to find anymore.

I have a feeling that it might have been one of yours, but it doesn't seem to be in the masterlist and Tumblr's search engine is no help. Do you know if that is a post you remember making or have any idea where else I might have luck finding it?

Thanks :)

Hey, this was a great ask and I'm sorry for the delay in replying. I've been really low on spoons and wanted to be sure I gave this question the attention it deserves.

So I was not the one who did that post, so that explains why you couldn’t find it. But perhaps this was the one you meant? It’s a really long one and only talks a little about that moment but I figured you may wanna see it anyway even if it’s not what you had hoped to find.

But I believe that post is using a fan translation (or maybe a version from the monthly chapters and not the volume, and changes were made in between those two releases) because their English translation is not the same as the one I have.

And now that we’ve gotten to this moment in the anime too, I thought we could compare the different versions:

The original Japanese manga version

The translation used in the cited post

The official English manga translation

The official English anime translation

My thoughts on all of this and how *I* would translate it

So I thought I would take this time to go ahead and look at this section myself and give my own thoughts on the translation/what Yana maybe was going for here.

This is gonna be a LONG post, so buckle up.

Below is from the cited post, with the Japanese side by side the English version they used.

Let’s look at the Japanese first.

Japanese

Sebastian says in the original:

せっかく

育てて

きたんです

掠め取られては

たまらない

A bit literally, this is what it means:

(I’ve) taken great pains

to raise (you) / nurture (you) / foster (your) growth

(for you) to be stolen (away from me)

is intolerable

Old Post English Translation

I went through the trouble of

cultivating** it.

So I won’t let myself be

robbed* of it.

Official English Manga Translation

I have gone to great pains to

cultivate** you.

I cannot afford

to have him steal* you away.

Official English Anime Translation

I’ve gone to the trouble of raising** you.

I won’t stand for anyone snatching* you away now.

My Thoughts

So now you've seen the original Japanese, with a fairly literal translation to give you a sense of the core meaning of what's being said here along with 3 different English translations: a fan (or older) translation, the official English manga translation from the volume and the official English anime sub from Crunchy Roll (specifically; other anime sites may have different sub translations).

So let's first look at the part about Seb losing out on Ciel, the bit about something being taken from him.

The word that Yana uses is shown above, kasumetoru, which you can see according to jisho.org means to snatch or steal. We saw three different English words used for this: rob, steal, and snatch, all of which fit with the Japanese meaning. I'll leave off my opinions on what I would pick until the end. But you can see that you can't really fault either of the three translators for their choice as each works in the context and with the original intent of the word itself.

But what about the more controversial part? The REASON Sebastian can't stand to have Ciel taken from him?

Let's first look at the original word Yana used:

You can see it has three possible meanings:

to raise/rear/bring up;

to train/teach/educate;

to promote the growth of/nurture/foster/develop

Now let's look at the ways the three above English translations approached this word:

Both manga translations went with "cultivate," while the anime went with "raise." How well do these two words fit with the original? Well, let's look first at how the English word "cultivate" is defined according to dictionary.com; pay attention especially to the highlighted definitions:

Those three meanings all align well with the three from the original Japanese, don't they? OK. But what about "raise"? How well does that work? That word has over thirty possible definitions, so I won't post them all here, only what's pertinent, but you can see them all here if you're especially curious.

Only two align with the context/meaning intended in this scene:

As you can see, the first of these two, "to grow or breed, care for, or promote the growth of" is a synonym for "cultivate." The second is the one that the dadbastian fans are latching hard onto, but that isn't completely disjoined from a couple of the meanings of cultivate, and that does fit with the various Japanese meanings.

So who did it better? How would I translate this?

Translation is not a science; it's tricky especially when you're moving from two languages that are as different from one another as English and Japanese are. The way Yana uses layered meanings makes things even more challenging. Sometimes, it comes down to simple preference on the part of the translator. That seems to be the case here, as I cannot really say anyone got things "wrong," despite having three disparate translations for the same lines.

I think I would have translated it this way:

I have taken great pains to cultivate you; I shan't stand anyone snatching you away.

Firstly, I know the first translation went with “it” as in “Ciel’s soul,” but I think “you” is a stronger choice here, and it’s what the other two translators went with, perhaps since Sebastian is directly speaking to Ciel here.

As for the rest, I personally prefer "taken great pains" over "gone through a lot of trouble," partly because it's less modern sounding and to me fits the way Sebastian speaks. I also like "cultivate," over "raise," because I think it not only fits Sebastian's manner of speech better (and we know he doesn't want to be seen as Ciel's parent), but it also has a more immediate and direct association with food. Yes, we "raise" food (as we see above they're interchangeable in English in this meaning), but I think that when English-speaking people read or hear that word they think more about kids first.

While ofc Sebastian HAS raised Ciel—he's fostered his education, watched out for his health and made sure he can pass as an earl, etc.—those are means to an end. Sebastian's main goal is to eat Ciel's soul, which he has already spoken about wanting to perfect so it'll be the most delicious it can be. Thus, I think keeping that association while having us remember his ultimate agenda is why "cultivate" is a slightly better choice than "raise."

The bit about Seb finding losing Ciel intolerable is where we see the most variation in the translations, and that's largely likely because the Japanese only needs a word while we need a whole phrase in English for it to make sense. I like "I shan't stand" because it's stuffy and old-fashioned and more possessive than some of the above options, in my opinion.

I also decided to go with "snatch" over stolen or robbed because that's in the Japanese definition and since literally Sebastian was imagining Undertaker scooping Ciel up and taking him away, I figured it fit.

So you can now decide for yourself how you'd like to interpret/translate this section, and you're welcome to dislike my version and prefer one of these others, too.

However, I think anyone who latches solely on the "raise a child" aspect of the meaning here is not paying attention to the full context of the story, characters, and layers of meaning in the Japanese original.

[queerxqueen]

Congratulations on the book! It must be so exciting to officially be a part of the Stranger Things universe.

I look forward to eventually seeing how Dustin's season 5 arc fits into a story that takes place between seasons 3 and 4. Clearly you can't tell us anything, but what is it like being under an NDA? Are you threatened with being locked in the Duffers basement?

thank you so much! gosh, it's definitely surreal to be involved in anything even canon-adjacent. especially as someone involved in fandom who knows how much it means to people, it was weirdly powerful knowing that all of these hijinks and shenanigans i wrote would be technically canon. (there's a certain gag with eddie that i'm like... i genuinely can't believe they're letting me make this canon, lmao)

so, nda things... i'm not under threat of being locked in the duffers' basement (that i know of, though i'd accept an invitation, if they'd have me over!) of course, i can't share any real spoilers or any of the materials they shared with me. it's pretty straightforward in that i can't talk about things that aren't public knowledge.

but it's mostly been weird navigating it because of my fandom involvement. for example, yall know i love to analyze things.... so getting to see some scripts but not being able to analyze them to bits and pieces for tumblr? getting tiny tidbits of s5 knowledge that i can't explicitly use to inform my posts on here? even just small assumptions i could glean based on things they approved or didn't approve could sometimes seem like juicy gossip that i had no one to scream about with. so that was absolutely brutal to me personally. but i was motivated to keep the secrets for the sake of getting to do the coolest job ever, so it's more than worth it!