#i forget what that specifically was i just remember being struck by it

[genreawareness]

compilation of every time austin pulls a reference that makes my mouth drop open

[chuluoyi]

the birthday boy

- fushiguro megumi x reader

your boyfriend is indifferent towards his own special day, but with you, he actually finds it worth celebrating

genre/warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff with a teeny weeny dash of angst

notes: loosely based on this fanart. pls just give my boi back gege you awful one-eyed cat how could you hold him hostage even on his birthday

listen to: sakura koi by mosawo don't mind me i just get all soft for this poor boy *sigh*

general masterlist

Megumi never really liked birthdays—his own birthdays, specifically.

"Come on, Megumi... just what is it that you want for your present?" you pleaded, pursing your lips together as you faced your boyfriend. "I don't want to give you a surprise only to find out it's not something you'd enjoy!"

However, ever since Gojo went and took him in, ever since he began attending Jujutsu High, and ever since he started dating you, to his chagrin, everyone started making a big fuss over it.

With the straightest face ever, he glanced at you and muttered, "I'm telling you, you can get me whatever."

"That's not an answer!"

"Seriously, you can pick anything. I'm good with anything."

You huffed in exasperation. "You're so unbelievably uncooperative, sheesh."

"On the contrary, I think I'm being quite amiable," he deadpanned. "You don't have to think about it that hard."

In a way, you should've expected this. Your boyfriend was never one who made a big deal over anything, and he probably meant it when he said that he was good with whatever. Your soft boy was just wired that way.

Meanwhile, to Megumi, his birthday was more of a remainder of good old days he spent with his kind sister and Gojo—when times were much more simpler. When Tsumiki was still alive and well. Call him an emo, but he was just feeling bittersweet.

Tsumiki would craft him this makeshift party hat, and Gojo would get him an overly sweet birthday cake with an even more over-the-top frostings. They'd join in singing him happy birthday, and Gojo's singing would be intentionally and especially awful while at it.

But now that he thought back to it, he kind of missed those times.

You threw him a narrowed-eyed look. "Forget it, I half-expected this anyway—" but then, suddenly struck by an idea, you exclaimed, "—oh! Wait, I know!"

Your enthusiastic exclamation caught his attention, and he silently observed as you furiously tapped away on your phone, scouring Google for standard gift ideas for boyfriends.

For the next half-hour, you continuously sought his feedback on each of suggestions. However, Megumi only nodded or agreed with evident disinterest, which didn't really answer your question at all.

“You’re seriously going to be like this, huh?” you sighed, frowning in total indignation, but in your boyfriend’s eyes, you were the height of absolute cuteness.

As you grumbled inwardly about how dull he was, Megumi wore a small smile. Truthfully, if asked, his ideal birthday would revolve around spending time with you. You didn't have to lose your head over this.

Needless to say, you were still trying to make it an event to remember. And Megumi knew, because you were so obvious it was giving him secondhand embarrassment.

"Itadori! I'm telling you—" you were rebuking a sheepish Yuji on broad daylight regarding which color for balloons to be placed in the class on the day of his birthday. Earlier, he saw you and Nobara huddled together, talking about cakes and pastries, then also animatedly discussing with Inumaki, Panda and Maki, pulling out all the stops for a celebration plan without missing a beat.

Megumi could only facepalm at your attempt to maintain secrecy—in which you were failing miserably, almost as if you hadn't really made an effort at all.

"Isn’t it nice, Megumi?" suddenly Gojo slid beside him, with a stupid grin on his face. "Someone who exclusively goes this far for you, hmm?"

"It's embarrassing..."

"Ha! Don't be shy," Gojo barked, leaving him with a friendly pat in the back before stalking away with a snicker, and Megumi wasn't the least bit amused. He was certain that at least, Yuji and Nobara would tease the heck out of him after all was said and done due to your antics.

Even so, he didn't have the heart to stop you, appreciating your well-meaning efforts. He felt somewhat soft too inside, as he didn't expect that there would be someone who cared about this way too much like you did. Just it felt strange—

—because last he remembered, the only person who was hellbent on making his birthday a nice memory was Tsumiki.

. . .

So you were organizing a surprise party for him alongside others. Megumi already knew that, he had anticipated it and frankly, he didn’t actually expect much, but when he actually stepped into the classroom and was greeted with a literal bang, confetti, colorful banners, balloons, and a crowd of well-wishers, he was floored.

“Fushiguro! Happy birthday!”

“Look happier a little, would you?!”

“Look! Look! We got you a cake!”

Yuji and Panda almost hugged him—but before he could, Megumi shoved them away, Nobara handed him a paper bag tied with a pretty bow with a cool smile—believing her gift to be the best, Inumaki gave his hand a shake, and Maki wished him only the best.

All of this was within his expectations. He knows, and yet…

"Hey, Megumi! Smile!" your voice stood out the most, along with your widest smile, beaming and gesturing towards the camera as you were about to take a group picture.

Megumi swore his heart skipped a beat. His pretty, sweet girlfriend. Your affections reached him, and it dampened the hardness that he always carried inside his heart. In that fleeting moment, he felt you were radiant, just like the sun.

Then he turned his gaze and found the person he knew he could never thank enough in this lifetime. Gojo, for the first time in a while, wasn't the clown he made himself to be for his sake. Standing with crossed arms, he quietly watched over him, nodding towards the camera as well with a meaningful smile.

Megumi felt warm, he felt loved, and he wouldn’t admit it, but this might be the best day of his life—surrounded by you and his friends like this. And he actually felt more than just that, but no words could do it justice, because nothing could have ever captured the overwhelming fullness inside his chest.

Tsumiki... You see... I'm doing well, you know?

Later, after all festivities are done, you managed to pull him into a secluded corner of the dorms to give him your one-of-a-kind gift, while fidgeting nervously.

"What is it?" he questioned, gaze squarely fixed on you. "At this point, there's no need for you to be this nervous. Nothing could've surprised me any more than Panda's giant panda earlier."

You laughed, recalling how he nearly got squashed by the life-sized stuffed panda earlier, but then you averted your gaze, feeling your face flush and turning into the cutest shade of pink.

"Well! To be fair, it was because you were so uncooperative when I asked what you wanted for your gift! And since I have gotten you the cake, I figured it'll be fun if you want to play this game..."

You huffed, and Megumi simply blinked in confusion when you handed him five pieces of papers—tickets? He turned them over to find the words "Free Pass" written on each one.

"Sooo you can use each ticket to ask me to do anything! Anything at all, be it me dancing to the worst song you can think of, or whatever!" your cheeks were burning so hard, but your resolute gaze kept him captivated as you continued, "So yeah, you get five free passes to make me do things I wouldn't normally do."

Lips pursed, eyes sparkling, cheeks ablaze. All in all, you were irresistibly adorable that Megumi had this overwhelming urge to scoop you up and put you inside his pocket if he could.

And really, free passes? Did you not consider the numerous exploitable loopholes he could subject you to?

"Okay, here, I want to use my first ticket."

"Huh! Already? What is it?"

He chuckled then, his lips tugging into the warmest of smiles, and you felt your heart soar, seeing that rare carefree expression on him.

"I want to kiss you."

[trappolia]

FINGERS TWISTED BEHIND MY BACK (DON'T LET IT BE YOU I LACK) ── aventurine x gn!reader, 862

aventurine hates fighting with you.

he does not even remember it—not clearly, at least. through the memories mudded by the buzz of soulglad and whatever alcoholic beverages he'd guzzled down the night before, the exact expression of your face when he stumbled back into your hotel room is a blur (a pretty blur, he is quite sure, though no doubt a disappointed one) and the sentences you'd spat out at him were jumbled into words that grate in his eardrums when he tries to recall what exactly was said. aventurine tries to echo it to himself, but even the incoherence sounds bitter on his tongue, and all that comes out an indistinct, asthmatic gasp that he's quite sure is some sort of equivalent of his heart aching. or breaking. somewhere in between, perhaps.

he rolls over in your bed, damp from the shower and tears. aventurine is thankful veritas hasn't stormed in to nag at him; he would not be able to stomach being seen like this by anyone else but you: his sweet safe haven, his little eden. you've gone now, stormed off somewhere to cool off. aventurine leaves you be (even if he spent the first two hours alone relentlessly spamming your phone with messages, pleas to come back and return) but he is still alone.

the thought occurred to him somewhere between hour three and hour five, that you'd never come back. aventurine doesn't let it linger. his stomach roils, mouth tasting of bitter alcohol and sweet dreams where you are still there and he'd never upset you.

the hours he spends there without you are hellish, a parody of a bleak, grief-stricken painting of some woman whose husband has gone out to fight in an intergalactic war—draped over the bed, numb and miserable to everything but the thought of you he has to conjure every now and then to keep himself sane. the air is cold and never seems to adjust, even though the reverie's rooms are specifically designed to tailor to the guest's tastes. they clearly did not consider the factor that is a hopeless, lovesick man suffering from withdrawal.

the door creaks open.

aventurine darts up in his your bed, instantly whipping myself up into such a nervous, edgy frenzy that he almost forgets how to breathe. his lungs shudder, the cogs in his brain turning the wrong way, and nothing is working fast enough, right enough as he stumbles to his feet, nearly tripping over the carpet as he finds you toeing off your shoes at the door, so pretty it hurts.

"welcome home," aventurine manages to choke out, still tripped-out and dizzy, heart pounding loud in his fingertips and ears. he watches you glance up at him, your eyes meeting his own for the first time in hours that feel like centuries, and the burden on his lungs alleviates—just a little bit.

"…aventurine," you sigh in this throaty, broken voice that cuts right at his chest. he winces as if he's been struck, eyes flitting to the dizzying pattern of the carpet in effort to hide the glossiness of his irises.

he hears your feet padding across the room to him, the footfalls soft and slow and not at all violent, though he cannot help but fear. there can always be a finality to the softest, gentlest of mercies. not that aventurine has ever experienced it before, but he knows it is possible with you: you who holds his heart in your hands, and you may very well tear it apart if you so wished.

aventurine will let you, if that is what you want.

but instead he swallows, too loudly; finds his fingers instinctively twisting behind his back. "are you going?"

"i just arrived," you whisper, endlessly gentle, endlessly soft—forgiving.

"i know," his voice breaks, and you reach out to touch him—palm against cheek, thumb brushing over the slope of his cheekbone. something cold and damp trails over the flesh of his face, fair marble streaked with a single rivulet of a tear. he does not tell you why he wants to cry. you know anyway.

aventurine thinks pretending would be easier with you, but here in this room, at the end of the day when everyone else has escaped into their own dreamscape, he is tired of saccharine sweet lies, the twisting webs that he pulls around without even understanding the final result it will conjure. it is easier, he thinks, to let you keep his heart and do with it as you wish—and aventurine can only hope that you will be merciful.

are you going? the second set of three words, that single question that he truly wants to ask is caught in his throat, because you may hold aventurine's heart in your palms, but if you will not use your own bloody fingers to pry it open, he must do it for you—and he can't. not for this, at least.

but you know anyway. of course you do.

will you stay?

"i'm right here," you murmur, sweet and godly against his lips, swallowing the sob that he almost lets out. "i'm staying right here."

© trappolia 2024

[astrophileous]

Thunderstorm

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

Synopsis: Spencer Reid was never a fan of thunderstorms. On one particular night, he woke up to one.

Warning(s): established relationship, mentions and/or depictions of gun violence/injury, protective spencer, parent-child relationships, I think that's it (?) this one is really just fluff wrapped in more fluff 🥰

Word Count: 2400-ish

Author's Note: HELLO! I'm finally back from the dead (yayyy)!! To celebrate, and as we all wait for me to finish rewriting the remaining chapters of love bugs, I'm posting this fic here for you all to enjoy :) I think it's the fluffiest piece I've ever written (srsly, not even a drop of angst!) so I hope you will enjoy! Let me know what you think okkk, don't forget to LIKE+COMMENT+REBLOG if you like this one xx btw I'm pretty sure this can be read as gender neutral reader since I'm positive I didn't use any gender-conforming words, but pls lmk if I'm wrong!

Criminal Minds Masterlist

Spencer hated thunderstorms.

He had many memories of them, not particularly good ones. Most of them involved him being on the field during yet another atrocious case, gun and flashlight in hand, trekking after muddy footsteps that belonged to an UnSub he was chasing.

He had been shot, once, during a thunderstorm. The bullet lodged itself against his bulletproof vest before the perpetrator had received a retaliation shot from Derek's gun. The vest had saved his life that night. The nasty bruise decorating his torso for the following week, though, served as a sufficient reminder in Spencer's mind.

Thunderstorms were a natural enemy whenever he was on the field. Unfortunately for him, the rivalry seemed to continue past the doorstep of his home, too.

Back when sleep was a luxury that he had to scour and cherish, thunderstorms would be the antagonist that kept the two even further apart. The sound of heavy rain against windows was a line of needles prickling into his circadian rhythm, erasing any possibilities of sleep if he was even lucky enough to have them in the first place.

On those nights, Spencer would sit against the headboard with a book in his lap, hoping that the passage detailing the fall of Joseon Dynasty in Korean Peninsula--or the rise or Majapahit Empire in the island of Java, whichever had caught his interest more at that specific moment in time--would be enough distraction to take his mind off the disaster wreaking havoc outside of his apartment.

Thanks to years of therapy, Spencer now had found it easier to chase sleep whenever he needed it. Still, its sweet relief stood no chance against the chaos brought by a raging thunderstorm.

This time, too, was no different.

Spencer had been dreaming. A land of reverie where his tongue had tasted honey, where his nose had recognized the hint of mint and juniper berry before the image was rattled by a high-pitched shriek in the sky.

When Spencer opened his eyes, the bedroom was enveloped in a near state of total darkness.

The sharp cry he heard had come from a lightning that struck momentarily before he woke up. Five seconds later, another one struck again, sending a jolt of adrenaline through Spencer's body as he waited for the imminent thunder to shatter the atmosphere.

Spencer shut his eyes in an attempt to get his racing heart back under control. Once he opened them again, the remnants of sleep had washed away from his pupils, allowing him to take in the empty bed, the chill bedroom, and the opened door right across from where he was sitting.

Frowning, Spencer thought back to a few hours prior. How he had promptly retired to the bedroom after coming home from work. He remembered clearly--courtesy of his eidetic memory--having slammed the door shut before he got ready for bed.

A creak in the floorboards outside his bedroom door compelled Spencer to reach into the bedside drawer, fingers inching nearer to where the secret holster of his gun was located.

Before his hand could wrap around the weapon, the bedroom door was pushed ajar, revealing a familiar figure standing in the doorway, outline cast by a hazy kind of luminance.

Spencer breathed out a sigh of relief. "I thought you were an intruder."

You raised an eyebrow at his statement. A playful smile sweetened by the gentle glow radiating off the flickering candle in your hand.

"It's just me," you assured him, finally stepping into the threshold and placing the candle on top of the dresser.

"I can see that." He watched you approaching, gaze never straying even when you picked up the comforter a tiny bit to slip back into bed. "Where did you go?"

"Went down to check the breaker. Power's out completely, by the way. Looks like the storm took out the whole block."

He made a disapproving face at your response. "You were in the basement? Alone?"

Your forehead furrowed at the tone of Spencer's voice. It wasn't until you glimpsed the telltale sign of worry in his eyes that your shoulders eventually deflated. "I'm okay, Spencer."

"Why didn't you wake me?"

"Because," you began, an amused smile threatening to split your face into two, "it's a three flights of stairs walk from our bedroom, darling. I think I can manage it just fine."

"But--"

"Besides," you cut him off, silencing him with a gentle palm pressing on his cheek. Spencer instantly melted at the contact. "I know how you get during nights like this. I wanted to let you have as much sleep as you could before the storm eventually wakes you up."

His hand circled around your wrist, then, bringing it upwards so that he could leave tiny kisses on your palm before he entwined his fingers with yours. "You still should've woken me up."

"Spence--"

"I know, I know. You could've done it yourself, I don't doubt it. I just--" he paused, swallowing a lump before continuing, "--I could've just waited here. In the bedroom. But in case anything happened, I would've been there for you."

The admission was quiet within the four walls of your bedroom. You knew that Spencer's plea had nothing to do with a toxic need to be controlling. Instead, it had stemmed from the vulnerability within. A naked truth that nestled in the deepest corners of Spencer Reid's soul.

The years that you had spent together allowed you to understand Spencer at a level nobody else could. They allowed you to understand that this silly request was nothing more than a fruit of his vigilant bones, forged consistently throughout his years in law enforcement. Spencer Reid, underneath his soft eyes and tender touches, had witnessed all of the gruesome layers of the world, lost far more things than anyone ever should.

It was only logical, now that Spencer had you in his life--a miraculous reprieve to his otherwise ghastly world--he would spend every waking moment to do everything in his power to make sure you were safe.

Always.

With this knowledge in mind, you couldn't, in good conscience, bring yourself to deny Spencer's plea, no matter how foolish it might seem.

What you did, instead, was shifting yourself closer to his body, seeking permission with your eyes before you leaned forward for a quick kiss.

"I'm sorry, darling," you offered sincerely. "I'll keep that in mind for next time, yeah? How does that sound?"

The relief was blinding as it washed over Spencer's whole being. "Thank you," he muttered before kissing your knuckles. "And I'm sorry, too, for being like this."

You shook your head firmly. Not because you didn't accept his apology, but because you didn't need one. Spencer didn't have anything to apologize for.

When you told him as much, Spencer's only reply was to press his lips to yours.

You were rendered pliant underneath his ministrations, your body molding into his as if you were two fabrics cut from the same cloth. Spencer poured all of his emotions into the kiss. Wishing--begging--that you could taste just how consuming the love he harbored for you was. The same way he could taste your heart beneath the hint of honey on your lips.

Once breathing became a chore, Spencer took the heavy decision to pull away, settling for resting his forehead on top of yours instead.

"Do you wanna go back to sleep?" you whispered.

Spencer wanted to nod, feeling a huge load pressing on every inch of muscle in his body. But before he could take you up on the offer, a distant sound between the roaring of thunders caught his attention, stopping his words right in their tracks.

"Did you hear that?" Spencer asked.

"Hear what?" You frowned. "The thunder?"

"No." He rushed to get up from the bed, gaze apologetic as he looked at you from the doorway. "Stay here? I'll be back soon."

Soft footsteps trudged along the landing of your two story house, leading Spencer towards another door located right by the stairs. He knocked slowly on the wooden door, twice, before pushing it open with a gentle nudge of his hip.

The room he entered was smaller than the room he shared with you. During the days, the windows on the far end of the wall would offer a mesmerizing view of the creek that ran along the backside of the neighborhood. During nights like this, however, they merely provided another harsh peek at the tantrum that mother nature was throwing against the world.

Although the room was swallowed in darkness, Spencer could still make out the silhouettes inside. From the haphazardly scattered toys on the floor, the colorful drawings taped on the walls, even to the lavender-colored furniture that seemed to fill every available corner in the entire space.

Amongst them all, the one silhouette that managed to pull at Spencer's heartstrings was the one curled up on the center of the bed. A usually joyous sunshine, reduced to a whimpering ball under a cotton unicorn-themed blanket.

"Princess."

Spencer tugged the blanket down, revealing misty eyes and pouting lips on a face he held dearly. A sob managed to wreck itself out of the little girl's chest, plummeting Spencer's heart further down the abyss of no end.

"Oh, sweetheart."

He gathered the 4-year-old in his arms, feeling her immediately hugging his neck. Her body was still shivering with tiny whimpers and sobs, all of which Spencer tried to subside gently by constant strokes down her back.

"It's okay. You're okay," he shushed quietly, rocking his body to a phantom tune while she clung to his chest. "Do you wanna tell me what's going on?"

The girl sniffled aloud before lifting her head, her tiny hands rubbing rigorously on the tear stains around her eyes.

"The-the thunders," she murmured. "It was so loud. I woke up and everything was d-dark. Daddy, I'm scared!"

She threw her arms around his neck again, crying softly into the collar of his sleeping shirt. Spencer tightened his embrace around his daughter, heart breaking into pieces with every tear shed from her innocent eyes.

"Sshh, it's alright, princess. Everything's alright. Daddy's here now," Spencer cooed. "Do you wanna sleep with us tonight? Hm?"

His daughter started to nod frantically. "Don't forget Mr. Elphie, Daddy."

Chuckling, Spencer quickly grabbed the elephant stuffed animal lying next to her pillow. "Of course not. Mr. Elphie is coming with us, isn't he?"

Spencer began to retreat back in the direction of your bedroom, all the while conversing with his little girl to keep her mind off the storm that was still raging wildly outside.

You were checking something on your phone by the time Spencer finally returned. Immediately, you tossed the device aside once you saw him, eyes widening in concern when you saw your daughter's limbs entangled around Spencer's form.

"What happened?" you asked.

Spencer headed for the bed, slowly putting down the little girl who instantly cuddled your side after he had tucked her under the duvet.

"The thunders are scary," your daughter mumbled into the fabric of your shirt.

Your eyes flicked towards Spencer, who gave a single nod of confirmation before settling back on his side of the bed.

"Oh, honey. I'm so sorry." You brushed back the hair from her face, taking in the sight of your favorite pair of eyes that seemed to have lost their usual sparkles in the wake of her tears. "What do you wanna do, hun? Should I tell you a story? Play a little music?"

"I wanna sleep here with you and Daddy," she said in a shaky voice. "Is that okay?"

Kissing the crown of her head, you answered, "Of course it's okay, sunshine. Come here."

Your daughter fell back into your awaiting arms. Her small frame fitting so easily into the front side of your body. You watched as her tiny fingers clutched Mr. Elphie tighter, breath evening out while her face burrowed even deeper into your chest.

It felt as if hours had passed before you could find the will to rip your gaze away. In all honesty, you could probably have spent an entire eternity staring at the little miracle in your arms had the universe given you the chance. When you lifted your head, your eyes automatically locked with Spencer's, who looked as if he, too, had been entranced by the sight in front of him.

"She's incredible," Spencer confessed into the night, voice fragile with the weight of awe it seemed to carry. "I can't believe she's ours."

You extended your hand towards him, smiling brightly once Spencer secured it in his own.

"Seems like the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," you mused, eyes glinting mischievously from the knowledge that your daughter--just like her beloved Daddy--also had a fear of thunderstorms. "Like father like daughter, huh?"

Spencer rolled his eyes. "I'm not scared of thunderstorms. I'm just... not fond of them"

"Uh-huh."

"Shut up." He bit your knuckles playfully, seemingly pleased with himself when he managed to elicit a laugh out of your chest. "Go get some sleep. You have an early day tomorrow."

"Speak for yourself, Mister." You settled your head back on the pillow, Spencer mirroring your position without breaking his hold around your hand. "Where are you going again?"

"Florida. Miami."

"Damn," you muttered, temporarily panicking about your terrible choice of words before calming back down once you saw your daughter sleeping soundly. "I bet it's nice there this time of year."

"It's Miami. The weather barely changes there all year-round."

"Exactly my point."

"Besides," Spencer added, squeezing your hand once, "it's not a vacation. It doesn't matter where I'm going, I'll only be seeing dead bodies all day long."

"Okay. I really don't need to start seeing corpses in my head right before going to sleep, so thanks for that."

"You started it."

"I most certainly did not." You scoffed. "I'm not liking this conversation. Now, can we please go to sleep?"

Spencer had a retort ready on the tip of his tongue. But once he saw how peaceful you looked with your eyes closed, entangled as one with your daughter, he decided against it.

At last, he opted to shuffle closer on the bed until he could wrap his arm around the two of you, letting the scent of mint from your shampoo and juniper berry from your daughter's body wash to wrap around his whole being.

Spencer was still not a fan of thunderstorms.

But on nights like this, he had to begrudgingly admit that maybe, maybe, they weren't really that bad after all.

[honeyspawn]

Some ideas about Paul's family:

Option 1: Jon Matteson Fmily Tree - full-transparency, the Jon Matteson family tree has never really been my personal favorite, or at the very least, the idea of Paul specifically having a big chaotic extended family has never felt very "Paul" to me. Paul has always struck me as such a solitary entity in Hatchetfield, or at least until Emma shows up. That being said, I won't deny that the idea is fun. That being said, I think if we're gonna go with the whole Paul is Richie's uncle thing, I don't think he's literally the brother of one of Richie's parents. I think "uncle" in this case is used in the general way a kid refers to an adult relative, and he's more of a distant cousin. I don't really know how to explain it, but I simply cannot picture Paul with siblings. Overall though, to me, I think I prefer the idea of Gary and Boy Jerry being Richie's uncles, and Paul is just kinda separate.

Option 2: Generic Retirees - I've mentioned this in another post, but something about Paul having no relatives in Hatchetfield even though he's lived there his whole life there feels very "Paul" to me. I suppose you could conclude from this that his parents are dead, but seeing as he's only in his early 30s and that implies his parents probably died kind of young (probably somewhere in the 50s-70s range depending on how old they were when Paul was born and when they died), I like the idea instead that the explanation is the most boring one possible; they retired in Florida. Their names are Arthur and Martha Matthews, or something similarly generic. They are the most boring 60 year old couple imaginable. Arthur likes to garden. Martha likes bird watching. They have no other hobbies. They visit Paul a couple times a year. They are constantly trying to convince Paul to move to Florida. They are the Matthews family. They are boring.

Option 3: Crack Theory Time - This is insane, and I don't really believe this theory, but the idea came to me one day and I the thought wouldn't leave my head, so I need to share it. So the idea behind this is Paul is such a singular entity that it's almost enigmatic, or at least it would be if anyone cared that much. Paul never talks about his family to anyone. He never really thinks about his family, and he feels like he's been on his own for a long time. That's not to say he doesn't remember having a family. He had a mom. She was nice. It was a shame she passed away 15 years ago. And when he starts dating Emma and she asks about his family, that's all he has to say. "I had a mom. She was nice. It was a shame she passed away 15 years ago." He remembers having a mother, but he doesn't really remember anything that specific about her. He's not sure why. He never thinks too deeply about it. He's not sure he can properly recall her face unless he's looking at an old scrapbook. It's strange, though. As soon as he puts the scrapbook back on the shelf, it's like he forgets again. All that really sticks is he had a mom. She was nice. It's a shame she passed away 15 years ago. It's not like he didn't love her, of course he did, she was his mom. And she was a good mom too, he's sure of it. One thing he does remember though, is before she died, she had a long talk with him. He can't remember about what exactly, but he knows it was important. He's pretty sure she was saying goodbye. If you've watched nightmare time, you may have guessed where I'm going with this. I don't really know where this idea of mine that Miss Holloway is Paul's mom came from, it just kind of seemed like Paul being a mysteriously solo entity in Hatchetfield makes sense, and this seemed like an interesting explanation. It also would tie into the fact that Paul might have a slight latent resistance to the LiBs. In tgwdlm, Paul has a whole musical number where he resists the Hive while being infected, while the only other times anyone gets infected on stage, it's a matter of seconds. Paul is also one of the only adult characters who sees through Tickle-Me-Wiggly; even Emma thinks Tim would want a Wiggly "more than anything." Do I think this is all some insane foreshadowing? Absolutely not. This seems extremely unlikely to me, and a product of my own over-thinking, but it sure is fun to think about anyway. (Also, I've never seen anything about this online before, but if this is an existing fan theory, please let me know. The Miss Matthews theory, if you will)

Option 4: He Doesn't Have One - Paul does not have a family. He is just Paul. It's not important for Paul to have a family because they are not relevant, and therefore, they simply do not exist. This also seems very possible to me, and tbh feels appropriate, both for Paul, and for Hatchetfield. I mean heck, according to Curt Mega his shopper character in Black Friday is literally named "Shopper No. 4". Paul just straight up not having a family because he's Just A Guy™️ feels right.

Wow, this was a lot, actually. If you read this whole thing, thanks for letting me infodump, and I'd love to hear what you think.

[paradiqms]

(10) to you, 2000 years from now.

hongjoong x fem!reader.

tags: angst, captain!hongjoong, royalty!reader, betrayals, misunderstandings, mentions of death, cruelty, fluff here n there, fantasy setting, strangers to lovers to enemies to..?

summary: after the death of your parents and near fall of your kingdom, you have no choice but to leave your first love in order to keep the kingdom in balance with you as the new ruler. years later, you see a familiar face - but instead of being in your arms, he's kneeling in front of the guillotine.

authors note: tw for this chapter!! brief description of torture (nothing specific) and toxic/strained relationship with parents, notably the father.

join taglist here! if you're already on the taglist, i'd appreciate it if you were to fill in the attached form anyway so i can keep up with who's on which taglist hehe. ik i do be messy n forgetful but lets ignore that.....

word count: 5.2k

networks: @cromernet

currently, ten out of ?

previous.

breathe in. 

breathe out.

one, two, three…

shoot.

with a small movement of his fingers, yeosang lets go of the bow string, and his arrow zips through the air with great speed. the metal arrowhead pierces right through the target’s centre.

bullseye.

the young prince lowers his wooden weapon. he stares forward, the structure of his target that sits approximately 70 meters away from his current spot staring back at him. he can see the previous targets within his peripheral vision, all of them having an arrow struck precisely in the middle of each one. they’re silent, as inanimate objects should be, but yeosang feels irritated by their mere presence.

look at you, they mock. shooting arrows again as if you haven’t mastered archery when you were a child. can’t you do anything else?

yeosang’s fingers tighten around the grip of his weapon. he’s gone mad, he thinks, after years and years of repeated training over a craft that he’s already far over the extent of being simply skilled at. archery used to be something he adored ever since he first felt the smooth surface of the wooden bow his father gifted him during his 5th birthday, telling him stories about how everyone within the royal lineage of the kang family are masters of the sport. 

“this bow used to be mine,” his father smiled down at the sight of his excited son. “and now, it’s yours.”

when he shot his first arrow, even when it was nowhere near his target, he felt as if cupid’s own arrow had pierced his heart as he fell in love.

with the prince’s wide starry eyes and determined smile whenever he’s on the training grounds during his childhood, even he himself would never have guessed that he would grow to hate archery.

if he were to be more bitter and honest, yeosang thinks it’s not just the sport that he hates. he hates the grueling hours of training he has to go through each and every day, he hates the pristine white walls within the castle he resides in, he hates the amount of books he’s expected to read and memorize, he hates the lessons he has to attend every day - and god, does he hate being restricted on what he should and should not do by those who think they have any say in his own life.

a life where he never got the chance to live. truly live.

just as he’s about to place his bow down, a familiar voice calls out his name. yeosang turns around, and he’s met with the tall and buff figure of his father who stands several steps away from his own standing spot. there’s a solemn look of the king’s face, one that he wears almost all the time for as long as yeosang can remember.

“father.” yeosang greets with a quick bow.

when the king doesn’t respond, yeosang knows something is wrong.

his father approches him with long, confident strides, shoes crunching against the grass of the training grounds. the sound makes yeosang’s ears ring and his heart palpitating with anxiety. his father’s figure casts a shadow over his own once the king is standing in front of him, blocking the early morning sunlight and leaving the young prince in the dark.

a moment passes by. yeosang can feel the beating of his heart like the ticking of a bomb that’s just waiting to explode. all of the sudden, his cheek burns.

there’s a deafening ring in the prince’s ears. it takes a few seconds to finally realize that his father had just slapped him right across the face.

“you,” the king speaks, voice low and gruff. “absolute disgrace of a son. have i not told you multiple times to not sneak out of the castle?”

the bomb that was previously ticking within yeosang’s chest bursts. he stiffens, ice running in his veins as he registers the words of his father. other than his personal guard, jongho, there’s no one else who knows about the prince and his habit of sneaking out of the royal castle - and if there’s one word to describe jongho, it’s loyal. ever since he took his oath, the royal guard would never betray yeosang’s trust, even when questioned by the king.

which can only mean one thing.

“what did you do to him?” yeosang’s voice is no louder than an uneasy whisper, fearing the worse.

the silence that comes from his father only serves to feed into his fear. he can feel the king’s eyes burning fire into his skin, a flame that was once ignited with the warmth of a loving father who only wishes the best for his son - but now, the flame has gone far beyond control, searing the prince’s flesh and branding him with a reminder that he is not, and never will be, free.

“what did you do to him?” yeosang urges. there’s moisture prickling in his wavering eyes, and he’s unsure whether it’s from fearing for jongho’s safety or from the broken heart of a child.

“disobey the king’s orders will lead to consequences,” his father tilts his head up, looking down at yeosang with empty eyes. “and neither you nor that incompetent fool of a royal guard are exempted."

yeosang doesn’t need to hear anything else. the wooden bow that he was previously clutching onto is quickly thrown onto the ground, forgotten and abandoned like the fond memories he once shared with his father. the prince runs past the king without a single look back, undoubtedly making his way back into the castle to find the whereabouts of his guard. he whizzes past onlookers, servants and fellow archerers alike - some of them call out for him with worry, but the prince doesn’t spare them a glance.

not when all he can think of is jongho, jongho, jongho. 

the walls of the castle echo the hurried sounds of his shoes against the floors, as if they’re mocking his misfortune. yeosang wastes no time as he quickly reaches the darker area of the castle, one that doesn’t feel the shine of the sun against it’s cold and hostile stone floors.

if his father decided to punish jongho, then there’s no other place to do so if not within the underground dungeons.

as soon as he reaches the end of the staircase that leads to the dungeons, yeosang hears it - the metallic rattles of handcuffs. it’s faint, yet it bounces everywhere against the dirtied walls, surrounding the young prince’s heart with anxiety and sinking it’s claws into his chest. yeosang follows the sound deeper into the dungeons, every step he takes bringing him away from any source of natural lighting until he reaches the end of the corridor, standing in front of the furthest cell.

once his eyes finally adjust to the poor lighting, the prince feels his knees give out at the sight before him.

jongho, his most precious friend and trusted guard, kneels in the middle of the dark and dirty prison cell, head hung low as his arms are stretched upwards in an uncomfortable form, wrists cuffed onto the chain that hangs from the ceiling. his clothes are tattered and torn, slashes that seem to have been caused by a sharp blade tearing the fabric and giving the prince a small glimpse of the dark red that oozes from jongho’s skin. he’s breathing, yeosang can only make out that much, but he doesn’t seem very… well.

the prince feels something wet on his cheeks, but he’s quick to wipe it away.

“jongho,” he whispers, fearing that if he were to speak any louder, his friend might crumble into pieces. “jongho, please answer me.”

silence.

“jongho,” yeosang grits his teeth, clutching onto the bars of the cell. “i order you to answer me right this instant, damn it!”

other than hearing the palpitation of his own heart, yeosang’s ears catch the sound of a pained groan coming from within the cell, and his knuckles turn white from the way he grips onto the metal bars as if his life depended on it. 

“your highness…” jongho croaks out. “i’m sorry.”

a shaky sigh escapes the prince’s pale lips once he hears jongho speak. even if he sounds weak, at least he’s still able to talk.

“no,” yeosang breathes out. “it’s not your fault, it never was. i should have stopped sneaking out long ago…”

yeosang would rather disappear off the face of the earth than ever admit that his father is right, and he still thinks so at this very moment - but as he takes in his friend’s condition, the nagging voice in the back of his brain somehow becomes more prominent than ever.

this is your fault, it taunts him. look at him. look at what you’ve done. you almost killed the one person who cares for you, and for what? the smallest taste of freedom that you were never supposed to have?

selfish.

cursed child.

you’re going to end up just like your sister.

“your highness,” jongho calls out despite the ache in his throat. “stop it. it’s not your fault either.”

from the way yeosang turned quiet and lowered his head in something akin to shame, jongho knew that he’s spiralling again. it’s obvious to notice, he thinks, even within the dungeon’s darkness. thanks to the many years he had spent with the prince, he’s gotten used to the many quirks and habits of the young man that would be easily dismissed by those who aren’t familiar with them.

“i’m sorry.” yeosang mumbles. “i put you in danger for my own selfish wants, i don’t deserve your sympathy.” 

jongho simply hums.

“you’re lucky i’m cuffed,” the guard says, earning a confused look from the prince. “or i would have smacked you for saying that.”

a faint smiles grows on jongho’s bloodied lips when he hears the quiet chuckle from his dear prince.

“you’re not in the appropriate state to be joking right now.” yeosang scolds, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt before looking around. “did my - ah, did the king do this to you?”

yeosang doesn’t feel like he would willingly call that man as his father, especially not after this occasion.

“he ordered for it, yes.” jongho breathes out. “but the one who did his dirty work was another guard.”

“did you recognize him?” yeosang questions with a furrow of his eyebrows. he can’t believe the audacity of his father being able to cruelly order the torture of his personal guard yet still refuse to get his hands dirty, even when his fingers are already dripping in the blood of others. 

perhaps it’s his own sick and twisted way of showing some sympathy, since jongho has been yeosang’s guard ever since they were both young teenagers. maybe he couldn’t bear having the blood of the young man who would lay his life down for his son, whose loyalty runs deeper than the lowest underwater trench of the sea. 

wherever one went, the other would follow closely, treating each other more like brothers rather than a royal and his servant.

whatever it may be, sympathy or not, yeosang still thinks it’s unacceptable.

“no,” jongho weakly shakes his head. “had his armor on, helmet and everything.”

before yeosang had the chance to curse out the cowardice of the guard who dared to harm jongho, his attention is caught by the familiar sound of jingling keys coming from inside the cell.

“lucky for me,” jongho smiles weakly. “i managed to snatch this off from the coward. i had to ruin my voice by screaming so he wouldn’t notice, though.”

the prince’s eyes travel upwards ever so slightly, and he feels a weak smile of disbelief growing on his lips when he sees the ring of silver keys dangling from jongho’s fingers.

“of course.” yeosang breathes a soft laugh out, reaching his hand into the cell to grab the keys once jongho throws it towards him, the keys falling onto the dirty floor. “of course you’d do something like that, you crazed man.”

“hey,” jongho feigns offense. “i wasn’t called ‘the best guard eridanus has ever had’ for nothing, your highness.”

as yeosang gets up on wobbly knees to unlock the prison cell’s door, he doesn’t stop the snort that escapes from his lips. the only person who has ever called jongho ‘the best guard eridanus has ever had’ was the prince himself, and he remembers the fact that he said it only because jongho bought his favourite piece of pastry during his birthday several years ago.

yeosang remembers as if it were yesterday. he had to hold back his tears when the young guard barged into his room with a small cake decorated fruit toppings. even when it was far inferior to the grand cake that his father had specially ordered for him, the one that jongho got made him happier than any gigantic cake could ever.

once the prison door clicks open, yeosang moves into the cell and quickly uncuffs his friend, catching his weak body just in time before he could fall face first onto the ground as soon as he’s set free.

“we need to get you treated,” the prince says, properly supporting jongho’s weight with his arm wrapped around the other man’s waist. “i don’t want to take care of a sick teddy bear if your wounds get infected.”

“harsh,” jongho frowns dramatically, earning himself a scoff from his prince. “and here i thought you cared for me.”

the guard winces when he feels a pinch on his side, and he sends a playful glare at the prince, who opts to look away and feign innocence. the two young men make their way out of the gloomy underground dungeon, with yeosang adjusting his own pace to match with jongho’s limps and occasional stumbles.

“...where are we going?” the guard questions as he notices the slight detour that his prince is taking. as far as he knows, the only way back up is via the staircase by the end of the dark corridor, but yeosang seems to have other plans in his head as he brings jongho through a smaller, tight-spaced hallway that they entered using a secret door that jongho never knew even existed.

which is odd. all royal guards have been taught of every secret door, passage, room, and everything alike within the castle just in case there was a need for an emergency exit or entry. however, jongho can’t seem to remember nor recognize the path that yeosang is leading him into.

“we’re sneaking out, duh,” yeosang says as a matter-of-factly. “i can’t risk bringing you to the royal physician, he’ll report us to the king and he’ll get both of us killed.”

a smile blooms on jongho’s lips. of course, even when he told himself he wouldn’t sneak out again, his prince would never stay true to those words. yeosang has always been a free-spirit who longs to explore the world outside the castle walls - to be free of duty and responsibilty, away from the sharp claws of his royal lineage that suffocates him.

during his first few weeks of becoming the prince’s personal guard, jongho had commited himself wholly to the king’s simple orders - never allow the prince to leave the castle grounds. naive and eager to please, jongho was always quick to deny yeosang’s wishes to go out and explore, but the prince was quicker. he’d find ways to sneak past his eagle eyes and sharp ears, leaving jongho frustrated and at risk of growing white hair at the ripe age of 18.

the moment jongho finally, finally, caught yeosang sneaking out, he decided to follow him. find out where he’s going, who he interacts with, memorize the specific paths he takes and the approximate amount of time he takes to get from one place to another - he was determined to squeeze out all the information he could get his hands on.

instead, he found himself in trouble when he saw the look on the prince’s face as he sat quietly on top of the tall wall that surrounds the city of eridanus with a content smile on his lips, one that gives shame to the strained and fake smile the prince always had whenever he’s within the castle. it was dark, jongho remembers, the twinkle of the night stars and the gentle glow of moonlight illuminating the prince’s face as he gazed forward.

what was he looking at? there’s nothing to admire outside the walls, only acres of forestry with rough terrains and steeps hills as well as countless bodies of water.

and yet, as the prince gazed at nothing, the guard could see everything in his eyes, even when he was spying on him from afar. yeosang never had this look on his face whenever he’s within the castle - the face of someone who wants more, someone who knows he’s destined for more. his eyes longed for everything that he itches to reach for and grab on to, in hopes it could drag him out of his miserable life as a royal who only lives to be caged.

ever since then, jongho would let yeosang sneak out as much as he wants to, even going to the extent of lying to his fellow guards about the prince’s whereabouts and allowing himself to be mercilessly beaten. 

the scars are temporary, jongho thinks, mere setbacks as he does his best to make sure his dear prince will get the freedom he deserves. 

if it meant that yeosang would have the stars twinkling in his eyes again, then jongho would sacrifice anything for him.

if you knew you were going to be thrown into the middle of a kingdom you’ve never been to before, all alone, you never would have agreed to that witch of a woman who calls herself yoona.

just the thought of her makes you irritated, as if you’re not already stomping your away through eridanus’ streets with the most obvious frown on your face.

“just go straight and turn left at the tavern,” you mock her voice, gripping onto the cloak that seonghwa had given you back in cygnus. “it’s the shop right by the corner, my ass.”

the moment you had woken up to the song of eridanus’ early morning birds, your peace was disturbed immediately when you bumped into yoona in the hallway of the second floor. you saw her exiting one of the rooms, which you can only guess to be the one yunho is resting in, and she’s quick to approach you even when you tried to turn away and get back into your own room.

“i need your help.” yoona had called out to you.

“good morning to you too.” you didn’t initally plan to sound far too sarcastic, but you did anyway. oh well. 

“.... good morning,” the young woman replied, her eye twitching by the tone of your voice. “look, i really need your help. the other boys are still sleeping and i don’t want to wake them up.”

you sighed and gestured for her to continue.

“could you get some lavender for me? i ran out but i need it to treat yunho’s wounds.” yoona had requested, playing with the fabric of her apron that’s neatly tied around her middle.

if you were any more bitter, you would have denied and told her that you are not some kind of maid that she can simply order around. luckily for her, you’re not insufferably bitter, at least not verbally. plus, it’s for yunho, and you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you denied anything that could make him feel better.

so, you agreed. the innkeeper’s daughter handed you a few gold coins for the lavender’s payment and a bunch of vague instructions on how to reach the local herbalist - ones that you were quick to forget, embarrasingly so.

just because you’re some kind of chosen one that could read an ancient map does not mean you’re any better with directions than a child. it’s not even your fault, how could she expect you to know your way around the kingdom when you arrived only yesterday?

should you ask around? it seems to be the most appropriate choice, and luckily for you, there are several groups of townspeople passing by.

just pick a random stranger, you urge yourself. it’s not that hard.

your eyes scan the area for any faces that look easy to approach, but everyone seems to be on their way to go somewhere. soon enough, you spot a young man who’s leaning against a wall, seemingly doing nothing but staring at the passerbys. he’s dressed in dark colors from head to toe, his black hair slicked back with a few strands framing his sharp face and a matching set of dark eyes following the movement of the people who walk pass him. he seems to be around your age, so you suppose that he should be easier to talk to compared to the elderly townsfolk who might just scold you for wasting their time on giving you directions.

with a quick breath in and out, you make your way towards the man.

“excuse me,” you say once you’re close enough, and the man is quick to turn his head towards you. “do you know the way to the herbalist’s shop?”

the man is quiet for a second as his eyes look at you up and down. before you had the chance to feel intimidated, the man flashes you a smile.

“of course,” he speaks, and you notice that he has a bit of an accent. “i’ll walk you there. can’t have a lady like you in these streets alone.”

“ah,” you return his smile warmly. “thank you. i hope i’m not disturbing you or anything.”

the man gently kicks himself off the wall he was previously leaning against, dismissing your words with a wave of his hand.

“nah, i wasn’t up to anything. just wanted to get some fresh morning air.” he explains. the man walks pass you, and you follow him closely once he gestures you to do so with a quick tilt of his head.

“you from around here?” he asks.

“no,” you turn away in attempt to hide the fact that you’re lying through your teeth. “i’m just a travelling merchant.”

the man simply hums.

“i see,” he responds. “seems like that’s one thing in common between us - except i’m not a merchant.”

“what are you, then?” you question, deciding to turn once again to look at the man as he walks beside you.

“a humble traveler.” he says, offering no further explanation. his eyes meet yours as he tilts his head slightly just to see you, and he smiles.

you, ever so kind, smile back at the stranger. for some reason, a voice in the back of your head is telling you not to, but you ignore it.

the rest of the journey towards the herbalist shop goes on in silence. truthfully, halfway through the trip, you had begun to worry. what if this man isn’t who he says he is? he might be leading you somewhere else, taking advantage of the fact that you’re absolutely clueless about the roads in eridanus before killing you in cold blood for his own sick satisfaction.

your worries are quickly shut down once you spot the herbalist shop sign, and you let go of the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

it’s just baseless, meaningless worries. that’s all to it.

“here we are,” the man stops right in front of the shop. “would you like me to wait for you? just in case you don’t remember the way back.”

a soft snicker falls from your lips at the man’s words, because he’s most definitely right. you do not remember the way back.

“that would be great,” you grin. “thank you, mister…”

you drag your words a little, and the man takes the hint to tell you his name.

“christopher,” he informs. “but everyone calls me chan, so i expect you to do the same, miss…”

christopher, or chan, drags his words in a similar way you did to yours mere seconds ago, and it makes you stiffle back an entertained laugh.

“well, chan,” you speak smoothly. “you can call me byeol.”

the fake name that you came up with during your youth slides off your tongue as easy as any lie does, despite the uncomfortable nagging in your chest in the form of a palpitating heart.

“byeol,” chan repeats. “that has to be the best fitting name i’ve ever come across.”

you scoff, dismissing the cheeky smile that chan has on his lips with a wave of your hand before making your way up the small flight of stairs in front of the herbalist shop’s front porch. 

you knock the wooden door thrice before entering, and the chime of a small bell rings above your head. the moment you step in, the strong scent of various herbs paired with a faint smell of burning fire overcomes your senses. the shop is lit with the natural glows of sunlight coming from the tall, open windows, and there’s a gentle breeze coming from one of them that makes some of the many, many plants within the shop sway with it’s blows.

there’s a wooden counter at the middle of the shop, but nobody stands behind it. you suppose the owner is somewhere else, maybe they’re helping another customer that came before you - either way, you’re left to figure out by yourself on where the lavender is kept within the cramped shop.

you take a few timid steps forward, the heels of your shoes clicking against the floorboards. you come to notice that there is someone else inside the shop as you catch the sight of a rather tall person by the corner of the shop. they have their back facing you, seemingly busy with browsing through the myriad of herbs, but you notice that they’re wearing a cloak, much like yourself.

in the back of your head, you can only remember one person who uses that cloak.

the person turns around just enough for you to see their side-profile, and your suspicions are correct. the sight of a familiar looking birthmark that sits prettily right under the person’s eye is a dead giveaway to the man you previously bumped into while you were on your little cafe hopping trip with wooyoung and san yesterday.

without taking a second to reconsider what you’re about to do, you approach the man with a wide grin, tapping onto his shoulder to gain his attention.

“hey there,” you greet warmly. “fancy seeing you here!”

yeosang jolts in surprise when he feels someone tapping on his shoulder, and he turns around to see a familiar face - the woman who bumped into him yesterday.

the same woman who called his birthmark pretty. despite the previous anxiety that he had felt while he was waiting for the herbalist to fix jongho up in the back of the shop, yeosang feels a smile growing on his lips.

“hi,” he grins. “what a pleasant surprise. i remember you from yesterday, dear travelling merchant.”

“ah,” you blink, a little caught off guard that the man actually remembers the event. you were beginning to prepare yourself for the incoming embarrassment if he didn’t recognize you. “you’re right, that’s me! i didn’t think you’d remember.”

“of course i remember,” yeosang chuckles. “no one else has been as clumsy as you are to bump right into a stranger.”

at the obvious tease in his words, you scrunch your face at the stranger.

“hey,” you grumble. “not my fault that you were standing in my way, you absolute tree.”

yeosang shakes his head, scoffing at your choice of words. even jongho never called him such a thing - he’ll be making a mental reminder to use it against his guard before the latter could have the chance to use it on him. although, yeosang realizes after a short second, jongho isn’t exactly a tree. if anything, that young man is a whole wall.

okay, yeosang thinks. i’ll call him wall instead. 

“what are you doing here, anyway?” yeosang questions.

“oh, just here for some lavender.” you shrug your shoulders. “i’m not sure where they are, though.”

“oh,” yeosang walks pass you quickly before reaching upwards to the top of a shelf, hands plucking a few light purple stems from one of the pots. “they’re right here. here you go.”

the prince offers you the lavender stems, and you can’t stop the wide, appreciative smile that blooms on your lips as you take the herbs into your own hands. you thank him promptly, bowing a few times to further emphasize your gratefulness.

“no problem.” yeosang brushes your thanks off. “you can take your leave if you’re in a hurry, by the way. i’ll pay for your lavenders.”

just as you were about to reject the offer, you realize that yoona had given you enough coins for a maximum of three stems of lavender - and what you have in your hands now is closer to a mini bouquet. well, since he already offered…

“sure,” you agree, grinning ear to ear at the man. “i’d appreciate that, thank you so much.”

yeosang merely nods as a humble way to accept your thanks, and he waves goodbye to you as you make your way out of the shop. once you’re out of sight, the prince’s smile slowly fades away.

lavenders, he thinks. they’re for treating wounds. i hope she isn’t hurt.

you exit the shop with a happy smile, a hand full of lavenders, and a content heart. maybe today isn’t so bad.

“chan!” you call out as you skip down the stairs. “i got my lavenders, some prince looking guy paid them for me-”

just as you arrive at the bottom of the stairs, you realize that chan is nowhere to be found.

ugh, you frown, mood quickly going down again. spoke way too soon.

you could wait for the birthmark man to come out and ask him to escort you instead, you suppose, but you don’t want to keep yoona waiting. not that you’re being considerate for her, it’s more to not wanting to delay her process of making sure yunho’s wounds are properly treated and kept away from any infections.

so, with a heavy frown and an even heavier heart, you stomp away from the shop, going back to the grumpiness you had earlier and mentally preparing yourself to get lost once more.

as you walk away, you don’t notice the pair of sharp eyes following your movements.

“chan to hyunjin,” chan whispers into the communication device in his hands, hidden in the darkness of the alleyway he snuck in to. “come in, hyunjin.”

the device crackles for a few moments before the familiar voice of his most trusted assassin speaks up.

“hyunjin coming in,” the assassin responds through the device. “what’s up?”

“tell the others,” chan says, a satisfied smirk creeping onto his cold lips. “to prepare for the win we’ve been waiting for.”

there’s a brief silence by the other end of the device before the sound of excited chatter comes up.

“are you serious?” hyunjin’s voice speaks up again, and it only makes chan’s smirk grown bigger.

“you bet.” he reassures.

“i’ve got eyes on our dear little starlight.”

next.

taglist: @atinytinaa @crimson-mia @catwhisk @lelaleleb@realrya @layzfeelit @atinyreads @revehosh @fourthirtyone-am @jexizia @xxluckydreamsxx @sankatchu @mythicalamphitrite @isntw0nwoo@honeyhwaaa@hiccups-are-better

[devondespresso]

writing my silly little fic and again im struck with how much opportunities they missed by pretending the s2 stancy breakup wasn't messy, specifically for Nancy's guilt about barb and forcing herself to grow up too fast

like s1 Nancy spends one night being a stupid teenager goofing off at her boyfriend's party and staying over to get spicy while Barb goes home. then she later realizes Barb disappeared and died that one night she was letting go and having fun. this is widely recognized trauma for her and informs a lot if not most of her actions through the rest of the show

in season 2 she's feeling the weight of it more around the first year anniversary. steve trys to help by taking her to a party to forget for a little while and 'be stupid teenagers' for a night. a perfectly set up parallel already

the way the show wants it to go, we get the bullshit argument, they fight, allegedly break up at some point, and nancy sleeps with Jonathan. later steve tells her to go with him and we're supposed to read it as Steve stepping back so jancy can happen. we're supposed to be seeing this as a happy ending.

but with the material we're given this would have been the perfect place for an emotional repeat of season 1 for nancy. she and steve go to the party and pretend to be stupid teenagers for the night. but oh no! nancy lets lose too much, lets herself relax and drink and dance, and the next day her boyfriend's pissed. hes saying she said things she never remembered saying and its hurt him and she doesn't know what to do. and kids around school are talking about them breaking up at the party, and that fits with Steve's anger she saw, so they must've broken up right? it sucks, even if she wasn't in love with him, that'd be the worst way to break up with someone (especially if she's confusing platonic and romantic feelings or convincing herself it has to be romantic when she really just values him as a friend)

and then she doesn't have time to work it out, she needs to go with Jonathan to avenge barbs 'disappearance' to give her family closure. She's got a lot of conspiracy shit to do and its stressful. so when murray starts going off about how she's not really in love with steve, how she actually likes Jonathan and he seems to like her back. they finished a lot of the hard work with the conspiracy stuff, she can let her guard down and have a quick good night.

then the next day is chaos. demodogs and labs and will being possessed. It a rough fucking day. Steve tells her to go with Jonathan while they get the mindflayer out of Will, civil like they're on good terms so she does (and thank god she did because that was rough and they needed all the help they could get)

and then everything's fine again, with the upside down. and it looks like she handled things better this time, was about to relax occasionally and still made it through.

except apparently she and steve didn't break up. he thought it was just a few fights, that they put their shit aside for the apocalypse and now they can work things out.

and it could ruin nancy. a year later and she's still hasn't learned her lesson, that letting her guard down hurts the people she cares about, that relaxing and having fun makes her lose people. its her fault for the messy breakup with Steve and its her fault that barb is gone. she's the reason she's lost friends close to her, 2 for 2, and now she only has Jonathan left (and what do you know, season 3 has her conflict with Jonathan and in season 4 she's not let anyone else get truly close to her and fred still dies)

you see what i mean?? by having conflict magical resolve itself in the background we loose so much powerful, painful character drama for her. our girl who thinks she has to keep the world around her up solely on her shoulders because she can't handle the loss of her best friend in season 1. Nancy who desperately wants to be normal and have people she loves but keeps losing them, through factors both in and out of her control, but feels like everything has to be her fault just because some things were.

and to be fair, that story is still present in the show. its there and definitely compelling, but it could've been even more so. i feel like if maybe there was less 'nancy has to be a strong independent girlboss' in there (abd it's definitely there, they want to make a point of making her a Strong Woman Character so bad) and she was allowed to have mistakes acknowledged by the narrative, this is the direction it would've gone. She could've been an excellent example of well written women who are strong and awesome through their own right instead of the narrative trying to make us like her

[inconveniently-discorporated]

So I was watching Doctor Who, and something about this part from Twelve and Clara really struck me in the Good Omens. (And yes it's been awhile but obviously spoilers.)

Specifically, it was the part after the Clara memory wipe where Twelve basically says that he doesn't directly remember her, but he can fill in the details based on the holes they left behind.

And that reminded me exactly of this part:

This is how I feel about Crowley's memory.

Now, I may be wrong, but the whole "I don't remember you" parts are really suspicious to me. At first, I simply took it as him being cheeky or purposely snubbing certain people, and a lot of people interpret those scenes that way. However, I feel like he seems genuinely unable to remember them. This scene in particular strikes me as him speaking from experience -- something in his tone.

Say you move all the furniture out of a room -- you might still have indents in the carpet where a couch and table would've gone, and one can thus imagine how big of a couch and where people set their drinks. On the wall, a square of paint a few shades lighter than the rest -- there was probably a picture there. In the kitchen, there is no refrigerator, but you know that houses usually have one and you see where one would go, and you also see a water line, so it was probably a fridge that dispensed ice cubes and water.

See also: the fact that Gabriel doesn't know who Aziraphale is, but he knows how Aziraphale makes people feel, and thus he seeks him out for help. Looking at the outlines on the wall, the indentations in the carpet.

Kind of like doing an escape room. You get a set of directions -- hmm, what do you do with that? Oh look, you have a directional lock. Or maybe you have a password-like phrase from Heaven bouncing around your head but nowhere it fits. Oh look, you have a password-shaped hole that belongs to this folder.

Maybe there's different kinds of memory mucking -- like maybe there's "forget everything you ever were" and maybe there's "forget everyone you ever knew" (which would be quite interesting for Crowley and Aziraphale's story).

It occurred to me as I was writing this that Gabriel's amnesia is not indicative of how Heaven's forced memory wiping works. That's because Heaven doesn't actually wipe his memory, he takes it away himself and stores it in the fly. So I can't really presume anything based on his behavior.

But the show does imply Crowley was of high rank:

And he does remember general events -- creating nebulae, passwords, the war. He just doesn't appear to remember other angels.

He doesn't even identify the Metatron by name, he refers to him as "the last time I saw you, you were a big floating giant head man" -- which he did literally just see, in Heaven. It's Aziraphale who identifies him by name.

I saw a meta earlier comparing Job to Crowley with an interesting suggestion: maybe Crowley never did anything wrong. Furfur's story implies Crowley was an active participant, but maybe there's more to it than meets the eye.

Last thing that comes to mind:

I think it's super interesting that Muriel just happens to be the lowest ranking scribe, until the plan to yeet Gabriel from his position, and then he will just happen to be the next lowest after that. It makes me wonder who they were, or will become. But I am convinced that who they are isn't who they've always been.

Because that's what Heaven does -- they take away agency, they care not for the individual but rather the role the individual plays. Once the individual stops being useful towards that role, they discard them like one of God's favorite human's kids.

[theneighborhoodwatch]

submission from i-like-eyes

Wally has been in front of a live audience. Barnaby has been in front of a live audience. Barnaby is not only the only character to be given a segment talking with home in the update (unless I’m misremembering oop) but also the only one to notice that Wally does literally nothing during segments of the show. I’m going to explode.

That wasn’t really well put together I’m still reeling from everything; Barnaby knows there is an outside world. Unless he somehow forgets or is in a fuck ton of denial, he has been in front of a live audience outside of Home. It is heavily theorized regarding a specific incident that Julie DOES NOT. We are probably safe in assuming the rest of Home is the same. Cool. Great. I fear a potential conflict arising between not just Barny and Wally but Barny and the rest of the cast. Explodes again. Side note; what does Home itself feel about Wally going so far away???????

[context for that specific incident mentioned in the second paragraph]

hmm. i think to determine whether or not barnaby still remembers the ~outside world~, we would need to ask ourselves if he was really at that interview at all. after all, wally knows that he’s a puppet, and puppets are made to be, well, puppeteered. the fact that this doesn’t change in front of a live audience probably wouldn’t faze him all too much. but a puppet who Isn’t aware of their status as one to begin with? who knows how they exist out there, if they exist at all. maybe in our world, they’re just their parts regardless of context - the puppet and the puppeteer. (this is, of course, assuming that the interview even really happened at all.) i’m not sure if i’m getting my point across very well here, it feels very hard to put into words. it could also be that it’s less that the neighbors are unaware of the outside world and more that they’re unaware that their world and ours are any different. we’ll probably have to wait and see.

something that struck me about the video files is that the first time i watched them i remember thinking something like “man, it’s kinda weird that for how Genuine the neighbors’ camaraderie feels even with split-second moments of tension, they always act like they have to be reminded that wally even exists.” the second time, though, i thought, “oh, wait, it’s not that they forget he’s there. it’s that he just straight up Never Initiates and we never see his response when he’s actually approached by another character in the video files. which is weird considering he’s the protag.” and of course, the only character who actually notices this (or at least, the only character who Verbalizes it) is barnaby. barnaby doesn’t seem like the oblivious type, or prone to blind devotion in the same way wally seems to be, but you can’t say that his attachment to wally isn’t real, at least not at this point in time. but can you say it won’t screw him over later down the line, especially if other characters become more suspicious of wally at the same time? who’s to say? dude’s probably being set up for some major internal conflict, at the very least.

[theshortolivia]

Get to Know me tag :)

Was tagged for a get to know me tag game by @deerlisteners and these are fun so thought I’d do it for the like two people who will see it, even though, they are both childhood friends and know all this…

1. Are you named after anyone?

Yeah! My moms named me after the character Olivia Benson from law and order because she was a ‘strong independent woman’ like they wanted me to be and they also both had a crush on her/the actress who plays her. Bonus fact I’m p sure if I’d been born male they woulda named me Josiah

2. When was the last time you cried?

Uhhh, I got emotional and ALMOST cried at the ‘shoe scene’ (can’t be any more specific cause Huge spoilers) when rewatching Jojo Rabbit, I DID cry when I saw it in theatres and I HIGHLY recommend it as a comedy satire but also a harrowing reminder of history we should never forget (and for taika waititi of course). Um last time I actually cried I don’t remember cause recently my mental health has been depression apathy and not anxiety tears but it was Probably out of frustration at my chronic illness limiting what I can do, not a fun anecdote unfortunately but sometimes it be like that

3. Do you have kids?

I do not and I don’t plan on having any anytime soon for economic, chronic illness, and age reasons (I’m 22 lol I am Not settled in life I don’t even live alone). I would like to have kids when I’m older and more settled health and money wise, I love kids and feel I have so much love and care to give, i think I’d both enjoy and be a good mother. Also, I’d like to have them ‘traditionally’ because I’d like to experience pregnancy and I have some good genes lol. I think I’d like to have 3, partially because I do think I will love to raise and love children but also largely because I want my kids to have multiple siblings and to have a bigger (I know that’s not large in the grand scheme but for like, this day and age and economy and etc) family and for their kids to have multiple aunts/uncles. I love having a brother and wish I had more siblings, I wish I had a sibling closer in age that I could relate to, but I do still enjoy taking care of him and him being my baby brother. I also used to have 5 aunts and uncles (well 10 since they were all married ig) and many many cousins of all ages before we stopped talking to that side of my family, and I have two uncles (and my aunts their wives) and only see a few of my cousins due to where they live, and I am so glad I have family gatherings that big but I do miss the giant ones too, therefore I want for my kids what I have and love.

4. What sports do you play/have you played?

I am NOT a sports girlie. Up until I was 12 ish I was a very into ballet and modern dancing (would’ve continued but alas anxiety struck) and after that I did musical theatre which is its own style of dancing, incorporating all different types. I’d love to go back but since I stopped dancing due to a steady string of anxiety, anxiety medication side effects, foot problems, and then finally chronic fatigue syndrome, I’ve become out of shape, have really bad feet, and REALLY struggle to find time to take care of myself. I do want to start exercising again in ways that don’t require me to have functional feet like weight lifting, aerial dancing (those fabric strip things) etc. But I am Not good at sports nor do I like it, sorry. I remember basketball in elementary being the most frustrating and volleyball being,,,ok

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Hm in general i don’t think I do actually, I’m a pretty earnest and straightforward person myself and idk using sarcasm feels negative? For me? And I strive to be as positive to others as I can be. (Not that sarcasm is always mean I just feel like it don’t my Vibe ykwim) but I’m also somewhat socially and subtextually dense so I think it makes sense I don’t use something I may not be the best at understanding unless it’s obvious

6. What is the first thing you notice about people?

Hmm, I think that varies a Lot, it’s probably usually either makeup, clothing, hairstyle, or tattoos if they stand out or if they’re something I’d want myself or am attracted too or like aesthetically. I always try to get up the courage to compliment people on things I notice because I feel good when I get complimented so I want other people to feel like that too :) also actually since I’m a cashier and people hand over cash and point cards often I usually notice nails. Oh I also notice extremes in height immediately, I’m short so people shorter than me are like woah! And people super duper tall are also like Woah!

7. What’s your eye colour?

Dark brown

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

TLDR happy endings, I’m a sucker for happily ever after to the point where if it didn’t end happily I’ll probably write or st least daydream a fan fiction ending where it does. ESPECIALLY romance it Always gets me. I do like scary movies though, especially psychological horror, although,,,In The Tall Grass FUCKED ME UP (the movie, I don’t read stephen king books cause his writing style makes me uncomfy but man does he have some fucked up terrifying horrible ideas for for him)

9. Any talents?

Ig that’s kinda complicated cause I’d probably call myself a jack of all trades (but master of none). I was one of those kids that was praised for being good at like everything the first time I tried it and now as an adult has to learn how to study and have a huge issue of getting frustrated and stopping anything I try that I’m not immediately good at therefore never being able to improve because I’m not practicing. But I’ve been Told by teachers, professors, and other people that I’m quite talented at singing. I starred in some musicals in elementary school and studied vocals in high school, in choirs the whole time too, so I’d say I’m like, sort of trained in musical theatre and opera and I Have worked to improve my voice. But I was also told that apparently when I was 3 ish I grabbed a mic and went on a stage (probably at play group or smth idk) and belted twinkle twinkle little star and parents laughed and said I’d be a star one day so idk maybe I just have that star quality lol. Oh I’ve also been commended for my acting skills back before I did acting? But I haven’t done much of late and wouldn’t consider myself exceptionally skilled, I want to be though! I uh also had a period in high school where I discovered I liked (and was good at) academics and excelled in science and math and focused Heavily on that, getting awards and whatnot. I’m not gifted but my mom and grandfather are (were, granddad is not alive) and I definitely did get their big brains.

Oh also I’m like a professional daydreamer at this point I write whole ass stories in my head most of which Never make it to the Google docs and I’m Amazingly talented at oversharing I’m sorry in advance tell me to stop talking I literally won’t mind I promise I ramble Too much

10. Where were you born?

Ontario, Canada

11. What are your hobbies?

Too many. I have this issue where I like too many things so I spread myself too thinly to commit to spending enough time practicing on any one thing to improve, and then on top of that have this thing where I can’t just do something for fun I have to be Good at it (which I think stems from being a Talented Kid™) BUT here’s a list here we go it’s long

Singing

Acting

Dancing

Cooking

Baking

Writing

Makeup

Learning languages (I’m shit at it tho)

Linguistics (how languages WORK is So Cool)

Driving

Drawing

Learning about cool science things namely psychology, genetic, otherwise biology, or nuclear related

I’m not good at this yet but I wanna get into mixology for fun and also as a job

Can’t sew v well yet but I think it would be So Fun and also good to know cause I have to hem every other pair of pants I get

12. Do you have any pets?

I live w my parents still n we have a dog who’s actually my brother’s service dog she’s a huge black lab named Marshmallow and she is full of so much love but not a lot of thoughts, and we recently got a tuxedo kitten i got to name Carmilla (Carmilla is the name of an 1872? gothic lesbian vampire novella that came out before dracula, see my kitten loved to hide n is super duper fast and also play bites, hence, vampire)

13. How tall are you?

5’1 or 152cm

14. Favourite subject in school?

Too many uhh in high school I rlly loved general biology, my vocal classes (which we learned solos in Italian, German, and musical theatre genres and etc it was amazing), my intro to sociology, psychology, and anthropology class, my human development throughout the lifespan class (I wrote a super cool paper on the theory of infantile synesthesia which tbh is probably the best paper I’ve ever written), and my drama classes. In uni so far I’ve enjoyed my year 1 biology class, Especially the second half cause it was like almost All genetics (soooo fascinating!!!), I Loved my Japanese class which was hard as hell but so fascinating and awesome (I love languages and how they work, and Japanese being so different from my native language of English was really interesting, I also really like Japanese food and culture and nature so learning the language was partially because I think it’s a wonderful language but partially so I can go to Japan at some point), my psych intro class was fascinating and I especially enjoyed the parts on sleep and consciousness and on sensory and perception, those parts of our brains are sooo cool I also really liked my Health Psychology (relating our body to our mind was eye opening and very interesting) class. All those classes had super interesting subject matter AND really amazing sweet and helpful professors. Oh my intro data science class was cool cause I got to do shit of coding which was fun and rewarding

15. Dream Job?

Ok so remember the ‘jack of all trades but master of none’ thing? Liking and being somewhat good at many different things is rlly not helpful for deciding on careers, the end of that phrase ‘but better than being a master of one’ I’d say isn’t true cause I do think being good at One thing has its pros and cons, a pro being it’s def easier to decide what to do. I’ve been told I could probably make it in the opera industry, and I would love to act and sing for a living, whether that’s theatre, film, or voice acting, preferably I’d love to do them all tbh. It feels narcissistic to admit but I do like the recognition for performing, I relish the applause I get during curtain calls or after a solo, I wouldn’t say I Live for the applause but I do like it, I think I’d like to be some level of famous. However I know that’s not easy to attain and I also would love to be a teaching and researching professor of psychology and genetics. I love presenting and teaching and am very good at it (my best marks are always on presentations lol) and I love researching concepts that are interesting to me, like for example if I had to write a thesis right now I’d probably write it about the possibility of finding the epigenetic patterns that cause hereditary depression, anxiety, etc, and use CRISPR gene editing technology to correct those thus ending the cycle of hereditary mental illness instead of putting the bandaid of a medication on it. Also I know that coding and computer science is lucrative right now and I did enjoy my taste of coding so I’d also love to look into that. I Do want to make a lot of money so I can afford to take care of those I love (and myself), be more sustainable, and enjoy some extra things in life like fancy and unique or uncommon to my culture food

No pressure but Also tagging @dragonheart1330 :)

I probably didn’t even say One thing @dragonheart1330 and @deerlisteners don’t already know lol as I said I am soooo talented at oversharing

[kristsingto]

Reflection on last year, Be My Favorite, fandom thoughts, and more.

PT.1: Be My Favorite, time, isolation, and hope

My defining series of the year was Be My Favorite, without a doubt. Whereas I’d say Utsukushii Kare 2 + Eternal was what I was most excited for, as well as what resonated most with what I yearn for from a BL series, it wasn’t what defined my year (season 1 had defined last year for me already, and I don’t do repeats that often). 

The moment I finished watching the trailer for Be My Favorite, before its release in late June, I knew I would be enamored in it. 

I just got into Thailand’s BL scene this year. One of the first things I looked for once I realized I was in for the long haul of exploring this medium was a time travel series. With, preferably, a premise similar to Be My Favorite. Because one of my favorite types of stories is the narrative that plays with time, specifically the type that focuses on a character’s growth thanks to it.

Time travel is my favorite trope, but particularly it is the type that unravels and builds up one character’s journey. Historical/future explorations past a character’s lifetime has never appealed to me as much for that very reason. Time traveling to the distant past is interesting, but it isn’t what I love.

I’ve always wished I could time travel back to moments in my life. I remember hearing a story about myself at five-years old, upset I couldn’t press a button and go back to when I was three-years old, which seemed like the prime time of my life at the time. It’s a recurring thought. It’s mainly because I feel I’ve fucked up so early in life. Actually, my six-year old has solidified itself as the part of my life I’d like to go back to and undo most ardently. I won’t be delving into why the worst part of my life was in the first grade, or why I regret what I did then, as a small child, but it’d make sense if you knew.

It’s funny to me that I insist I could have done things better if I had been able to go back to any of the past moments in my life, when I keep creating more grievances, more missed opportunities, more wasted years, and more memories I’d like to forget. And yeah, I’m young. I’m only eighteen. But I still feel like it’s been too much. It’s stupid, sure. But it’s probably why playing with the concept of time itself is always in my head, leading me.

Sometimes, I want to press reset on existence itself. The entire world consists of loops, circular movements of past and present and future, of subconscious and conscious loops back towards what we already have done, and what will happen again. If so, then is it so wrong to wish we could return to the beginning of everything? It already happens on its own, after all. But I digress.

I’ve always loved time travel in how it is able to explore someone in its fullest. In what they have done, what they haven’t done, and what they could have done. 

As it’s a trope so deeply personal to me, I jive best with fiction that explores personal journeys utilizing time travel. I enjoyed Groundhog Day, as obvious and simple as it seems. I love the idea of time loops being used to show stagnation within highschool and a desperate need to not lose what you find most important, such as in Revue Starlight, and I love Be My Favorite in how it explores our protagonist, Kawi, as he goes back to redo his life and realize what he has to learn to be happy.

Less so than time travel as the premise, what also struck me about the series and solidified the feeling I’d be in love was how Kawi was established in the trailer, and further explored as within the pilot episode. 

Kawi is a loser. And you understand why, with his circumstances, but also, he is a loser. Kawi is a coward. Selfish. Insecure. Frustrated. Alone. And he wants things he does not allow himself to actually try to take hold of. Kawi wishes for love and friendship. But until he’s given a chance to do things again, he never goes for it. And he expects failure upfront.

I’ve always valued people above all else. I think it’s pretty normal for a lot of humans. Whether it’s my tumultuous connection with my mom, my many friendships, or all of the romantic idealizations, I’ve always yearned for people. And it’s not really to fill a hole, or find something. It’s to create. To ascend. Connection with others, to me, is what frames phases of my life, what frames my traits, my passions, my purpose. 

Which is why it’s so funny I tend to push people away. I’m a college student right now. I started almost two years ago, youngest in all my classes, and I’m going to be a junior this coming fall. I don’t consider anyone I’ve met an actual friend. I don’t give anyone the chance. I immediately judge people as not right, spurn offers to get to know people more because of some reason or another, and vacillate between feelings of superiority and inferiority. 

I am not a person in the way many of these people are. I am not someone who could fit in. There is no point in hope, because there is no one here who could like me, or that I could build a greater bond with. Those are the thoughts inside my head that compel me to turn down offers to hang out, to see everything as annoying rather than friendly, and it’s how I see almost everyone new that I speak to.

But, connection. Yes. I live online. I am myself online. I was homeschooled, barely went outside, and only spoke to other people online who I felt shared enough of the same experiences with alienation/loneliness I did. I yearn, I learn, and I live online. I am deeply attached to feeling like a real-life nomad who only “breathes” on the online sphere, no matter how people warn against it. And sometimes I wonder, while I’m still able to amend this in what people see as the “real” world, if I need to try to assert myself to people more. To find people who would get me. I’m not so stupid I think it wouldn’t happen. But I’m scared, and so I pre-judge every interaction and hide myself behind every wall I can.

Kawi opens the show at thirty, in a job he hates, with the same lack of friends. And a deep, paralyzing regret that he never lived the life he feels he should have. A world where he went on to succeed, to get the girl. A world where he was happy. And he ends the show with a loving partner, as a more well-rounded person, content with his occupation, with a group of friends who care about Kawi and have stuck around for a long time.

I don’t verbalize it enough, but part of why I love Be My Favorite so much is because it begins by scaring me and ends with soothing me with inspiration. Because the series starts by showing to me my worst nightmare as to how I could become, how I could feel, how a combination of a lot of the factors could lead to my life being (don’t get me started on Kawi’s field of study and job in the original timeline; I know there’s a good chance I’m gonna be broke in ten year) and it ends by showing me the best outcome. Joy, companionship, acceptance.

Living life to the fullest. Finding someone who loves you for yourself. Friendship that’s supportive and long-lasting. Kindness. Being content in accepting what happens.

The ending of Be My Favorite is kind of like a happy pill to me, in contrast to the angst of the series while it explored how everything could have gone wrong. And I adore it. I love believing in the messages of the series. In the ideas of the series. Of finding confidence, supporting the people around you, and figuring out what it is you need. And, oh.

Huh. I guess when it comes to it, what I connect to the most tends to be stories of hope. Hell, my favorite pieces of media tend to have themes like picking yourself up from failure and trying again, or friendship winning. And Be My Favorite spoke to me so strongly because it’s a story that really tells me how I can make my life something that is fulfilling, far from how I imagine it’ll go. 

Guess it all comes back to hope.

PT.2: Idolatry, fandom, and the question of why?

Fandom is a major aspect of my life, and has been for almost half of it. Whether it’s group chats on Amino, writing short fanfiction on Archive of Our Own, retweeting on twitter, or gushing on Discord, I’ve often filtered my life through the lens of obsessive fan culture.

This year, Thai BL has taken over my brain. I’m sure it’ll continue to do so next year. And I’m not new to BL (I’ve read many BL manga, for one) but I am still very new to this fandom and its contents, especially because it’s such a wide category of works to keep track of. And I’m enjoying where I’ve come so far.

I’m mostly, so far, a Pebaca fan. The shows that stuck to me most out of all of the shows I watched this year were Theory of Love and Be My Favorite. I love OffGun and the development they’ve gone through as a pair. Their stable partnership, the ways Off has changed “for” Gun, and all of the different faces they’ve had as a couple. I adore TayNew, with their bickering dynamic and long period of closeness. I love how hilarious they are as a partnership. And I love KristSingto, with their yin & yang dynamic. The way they parallel their first series so closely and how they’ve grown to be influenced by each other. 

But what has been the highlight of my year is becoming a megafan of Krist, probably. I love him so goddamn much. And it made me think about why people become fans of celebrities, or at least why I do.

As a side note, I feel as if the internet has become plagued with people using parasociality = bad as an overly simplistic thing. I’m far from an expert on it, but I do think the way many tend to talk about it is forgetting a lot of nuance. And I don’t want to get into this topic, exactly. I want to talk about why I enjoy being a fan of someone from a one-sided light, and how that helps me. Not about the ethics of fandom or what exactly it means to be a fan of someone (though these are interesting to speak about).

Maybe it’s pretty simple. I like watching charming people, and even if I don’t know them personally, I can grow endeared by them. I was definitely charmed by Krist’s personality: big, extroverted, sulky, caring, emotional, a little ridiculous, and passionate. I goddamn adore watching him on screen, obviously.

But at least for me, I feel as if a major part of how I choose what resonates with me is seeing people with friendships. Historically, the only real people I’ve ever become fans of have been a pair of YouTubers and people in idol groups. As if what I’m really being drawn to is actually when relationships between people are formed and sold. And I think that is the core of what the BL industry is doing. Selling the relationship between pairs. I feel as if a feeling of yearning/lacking within myself is in fact what being a fan of this industry is alleviating, at least for me.

Or at least, that’s how I feel now. I’m still easing into it.

PT.3: Okay, so what’s the point? And what about the new year?

2023 was a normal year. It was also endlessly fascinating for me. At the very least, I feel as if I found out/explored things that will continue to keep me intrigued. I’ve been reading a lot about literary theory and cultural examinations. Been thinking more in depth about people. About myself. 

And of course, I discovered something new that will most likely keep me in a chokehold for the next year as well. So, all in all, good, right? Well, not exactly. But I’m looking at the bright side. And yeah, I’m happy with the year when I think about all I’ve gained. 

I’m happy I’ve gotten into BL. Obviously. (And it’s also been making me think more about how being queer affects how I see things/what media I like, of course) So I guess the point of this was unpacking why certain media works for me, and why that is important for me.

And here, I just want to talk a bit about what I want for 2024. 

Obviously, I want more shows that connect to me on the level that Be My Favorite did, both through finding older shows and in watching the shows that come out during the rest of the year. And I’d like to get to know everyone else in this fandom as well. I guess what I’m saying is that this post is something I wrote to process what the last year had and to try to declare to myself what I want for the future.

So, yeah. If you read until here, thanks? For listening to me for so goddamn long, ahaha. Happy new years! Well. It's still New Years here. It probably isn't for most people, but it is for me! So!

[foliejpg]

oh yippie more asks:D

i have a lot :3

🍓🌵🥑🥤🌻🧃🧸🪐🍬🦷❄️🌿🏜️🍦🌸🎨🧩

you dont have to answer all of them but here you gooo

oh hell yes this is gonna be so fun <3

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? 

i don't remember specifically how, but i know i first interacted with shipping on youtube in like 2007-08 back when you could comment on people's profiles and message other users, so i think i must have commented on some like.. pokeshipping amv and just struck up a convo before i followed some friends i made to ff.net and deviantart, and started writing on ff.net lol

🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love

so i don't use spotify, i'm an apple music girlie and i really only listen to my own playlist i made that is composed of all of my top 100 songs of the year going back to 2015 LMAO

🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help?

@actuallyalaska she got me

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

every writer i tagged yesterday!! all of whom take part of the @bandomthememonths go read all these great fics by these awesome writers<333

🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis

@judasisgayriot your gifs are a godsend and i always love getting a comment from them <3

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before

my name is short for guinevere lol

🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual?

so i'm sort of picky abt my dash lol i try to stick to foblr so if you post mostly fob then i'll prob follow! i do a good scroll through to get the vibe, but if they post a lot of non fob stuff, i usually skip bc its just not for me but no hard feelings ever<3

🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now

well i just bought a new (refurbished) computer for the first time in a few years, so that's exciting! i've recently started making embroidery patches and that's been a lot of fun lol idk i've just been having a good time<3 i'm doing a lot of home renovation projects so i'm excited to have a brand new kitchen soon lmao

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

not a fandom character but as far as bandom goes, i don't really care for mcr and maybe that just has everything to do with that i'm really not familiar with lore/band mbrs etc., but danger days is the only mcr album i really connected with especially when i was 16-17 and its still one of my favorite albums, but i'm good on their other albums lol

🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on

just be kind<3 ik that's super cheesy but i think its easy to forget that other ppl have feelings too and maybe just being nice to someone will make their day. also don't ever pay full price for anything if you can avoid it. generic brands are just as good as name brands

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

i have.. no idea honestly lmao

🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity

listen when i figure it out, i'll let you know lol when i'm stuck i eat an edible and stare at the wall until something comes to me

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

ANY AND ALL!!!! especially when they tell me a specific part they liked - even if its just a line makes my heart go bu-bump<3

🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate

genuinely i can't think of a character i hate, i really don't watch anything but like. seinfeld and its always sunny in philadelphia lmfao

🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them

this is my cat bear<3 she's ten years old and sleeps in a drawer in my desk while i work

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it

here and here and here and this nsfw fanart from my bubbline au these are all my absolute favorites <3

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

i answered this here but its super long so<3

[foxykatie425]

Alright, time for me to give my thoughts on the results of this poll I put up last week. Long, drawn out, over-explained post ahead!

86.9% of voters think that Merrin would win if she and Cal had faced off in a 1v1 on Dathomir in JFO.

I am gonna go ahead and… disagree. HEAR ME OUT!

Y’all know I love my girl Merrin. She is wonderful and amazing and very very powerful.

But Cal is a JEDI!

I think because we see so much of them in Star Wars, we tend to forget just how powerful Jedi are. We’ve seen Jedi that are more powerful than Cal, but he’s still slicing through stormtroopers like butter!

Neither Merrin nor Cal is any kind of pushover, and it would for sure be very very close.

One thing to remember about Merrin is that while she is a very powerful Nightsister and implied to be above average for her age, she’s still very young, and was very young when her sisters died. Anything she’s learned since then she’s had to teach herself. (One could say the same about Cal, I suppose, but he at least now has Cere to help guide him.) When Malicos says to Merrin, “This power is beyond your control,” he says it with the intention of making her angry, which he does succeed at, but he also may not have been entirely wrong. Note that when Cal leaves Dathomir after making an alliance with Merrin, the undead Nightsisters are still attacking him on the way out.

(Side note: she doesn’t get to raise the dead in this hypothetical boss fight, that is no longer a 1v1! Plus, she already tried that and it didn’t work!)

Merrin, at least when we first meet her in JFO, has always struck me as someone who’s trying to present herself as something she’s not. She’s got something to prove: that she is capable of avenging her lost sisters. But she’s haunted by the fact that there was nothing she could do to save them, because she was, and is, so young. Malicos uses her insecurity about her lack of experience to gaslight her for his own selfish desires, and in her desperation to prove him wrong, her magick is unfocused and uncontrolled. And at the end of the day, despite her desire for revenge, she’s not a cold-blooded killer.

My point is that in terms of power and skill, Call and Merrin are probably pretty evenly matched.

Another thing to consider is timing. Admittedly now we’re getting into my own vision and maybe things would play out different if you put this fight earlier in the story, but if we’re to assume this boss fight with Merrin takes place in the same time frame as the Malicos boss fight, either in addition to or in place of it, we’ve got Cal at his strongest emotional point in the game. He has just made peace with everything that happened to him. Merrin, on the other hand, has just had everything she thought she believed in come crashing down around her. And if we’re at the point where she’s still attacking Cal, she’s not thinking straight. There is no legitimate reason left for her to be angry at Cal specifically, she’s just angry. She hasn’t cooled down from “You both shall learn!” And to be fair, from her perspective, if Malicos used her and lied to her, why should Cal be any different?

In this scenario, Merrin has got to be at a point of hopelessness. She may no longer be certain that the Jedi killed her people, but she feels like her anger and desire for revenge is all she has left, and she will get her revenge or die trying. And (possible trigger warning) now that she’s uncertain that her anger at the Jedi is justified, there probably is a part of her that almost hopes she dies trying. Because even if she did kill Cal, then what? Then she really has nothing left!

Why go after Cal instead of Malicos? Well for starters, that fight she definitely wouldn’t win, because the only way she and Cal were ever going to be able to defeat him was together. And I think rather than being afraid that Malicos would kill her, she’s more afraid that he wouldn’t kill her and that he would force her to continue serving his selfish desires. (Side note, there’s a possible headcanon in the subtext there that I really, really don’t wanna entertain… my poor girl has been through enough!)

I think in the end, a lack of focus and lack of confidence in her own motivation would be Merrin’s downfall. In a way, it’s somewhat reminiscent of Obi Wan vs Anakin. Anakin was more powerful than Obi Wan, but Obi Wan was more focused and more precise. Anakin’s lack of focus caused him to make a bad judgement call (ignoring the high ground) and Obi Wan quickly took advantage of it.

So let’s write some fanfiction real quick!

The way I see a fight between Cal and Merrin playing out at this point in JFO, they would be somewhat evenly matched, and at a moment when Merrin has the upper hand she would hesitate, because she’s unsure if she really does want this, unsure if she really should want this, and as stated before, she’s not a heartless murderer. Perhaps, even, seeing Cal at her mercy might remind her of herself as a child at the mercy of the monster who killed her family. (A Reva moment, if you will.)

Now one could argue whether or not Cal could’ve held her off at this moment had she not had this crisis of conscience, but regardless, she would hesitate just long enough for Cal to take the upper hand and checkmate her. But he wouldn’t kill her. He doesn’t want to kill her. He knows how misguided her anger is, and even if he can’t get through to her, he doesn’t believe she deserves to die. The victory condition for Cal is simply to get the Astrium and escape with his life. Perhaps he might have killed her to reach that goal if he had to, but it would’ve been a hollow victory.

In this moment, pinned beneath Cal’s saber, Merrin reverts back to the little girl she was on the day of the massacre. She is scared, and not ready to die, but she no longer has the strength or will to fight back.

Everything freezes for a moment, and then Cal slowly lowers his lightsaber. She opens her eyes and looks into his as he turns the blade off and steps back. He walks past her into the tomb, leaving her alone, in shock as she thinks about everything that just happened.

So I think there are a few reasons this didn’t actually happen in the game. First of all, a Merrin boss fight followed almost immediately by a Malicos boss fight would’ve been too much. But more importantly, for it to have an emotional impact would’ve required more character development for Merrin earlier in the game that there just wasn’t time for because at the end of the day, JFO is Cal’s story, not Merrin’s. Cool as Merrin was in the first game, what really made her character interesting is the dynamic she forms with Cal, and to try to develop that dynamic earlier would’ve required more cutscenes at a point when the player is not yet invested enough in Cal as a character to really care that much, and all those cutscenes would do is interrupt the gameplay that people came for. I think if the story of JFO were being told in a different medium that didn’t rely so much on action, such a book or *cough cough* a stage production perhaps, this subplot would fit in a little better.

Okay fine, maybe this is all just my vision for what I’d want a Fallen Order musical to look like! I’m telling you, IT COULD WORK!! 😂

So to recap, I think Cal would win in a 1v1 with Merrin (at least in the first game), I think Merrin in the first game is more bark than bite, and I think underneath the hard exterior she’s a sweet broken baby bird and I wanna give her a hug! 🥺🫶

Besides, if we did actually have this boss fight, video game rules dictate that Cal would have to win eventually! 😉

[foxingpeculiar]

This is about the WoT show—Verin, specifically—but I’m gonna take a minute to get there.

I read WoT for the first time around ‘98 or ‘99. I remember the year specifically because I remember having… it was either tFoH or LoC on my desk in freshman history and this dude looked at me with… impressed surprise? and said “you READ all that?” And in my head, that was one of those moments you have as a teenager when you start to realize not everyone thinks like you do.

Anyway, I stopped reading, I think in the middle of aCoS, because that was the last one I had (I think tPoD had come out but wasn’t in paperback yet). And like, that’s kind of a sloggy bit, especially if you don’t know how long it’s going to go on. So I was like “screw it, I’ll read it when it’s done.”

Cut to 14-15 years later, aMoL is out and my roommate is actively devouring it, which reminded me what I told myself back then, so I tell him I’m gonna start in on it. He offers me a few pieces of advice (eg: read New Spring after tFOH; it’s a nice breather and it’ll mean more).

But he also says he’s going to spoil one important thing for me. Because the series is so long and dense, and there’s SO much to pay attention to, he says, this particular bit is very subtle and too easy to miss, to not remember enough about it when the reveal comes to appreciate the genius of how well it’s done.

*spoilers to follow for show-only fans or anyone who has not completed… I forget which of the last books it happens in (I think aMOL, but maybe ToM) but it’s endgame stuff—obviously*

He tells me to watch Verin and spoils that she is, in fact, Black Ajah. (He does not, however, explain that there’s more to it than that, which left some surprise in it—I appreciate the way he did that; it was artful. I am obviously not being so elegant here). And that was one of my favorite threads in the books, watching that, which I would absolutely have missed otherwise (cos fuck man, 2787 characters!)

So I was excited to see Verin in the show. And this episode tells me I’m gonna get what I want out of that. I enjoyed her coming in with the very-carefully-calculated “fun auntie” vibe. I really enjoyed her iykyk conversation with Sheriam (*cough*), but the scene that really got me on board was Verin and Yassicca after spying on Sheriam’s log.

Cos like, Verin already absolutely knows what’s going on: where the girls are, who took them, and why. That’s the whole reason she’s doing what she’s doing, is to know things like that (or at least have very solid theories about them, as I believe the case is here). But she can’t tell anyone without explaining how she knows, so she has to put on this innocent face and guide the people around her toward what she wants them to know without them realizing she’s doing that. This includes both people in the light AND other black ajah.

And these are Aes Sedai, the craftiest, sneakiest, most manipulative people around (with the possible exception of the Cairhiens, but the Aes Sedai have a more widespread and visceral reputation). The point being that the standards for the kind of 3D chess she’s playing are particularly high, and yet NO ONE has a clue what she’s up to until she decides to tell Egwene.

So, with that in mind, I am struck by the kindness of the character in that scene—how gentle she is with this earnest little rabbit of a girl. When she brings up compulsion, you can almost feel her regret at having to mess with a naif’s whole worldview. (But only almost. It’s just beneath the surface.) She’s lying and manipulating with the worst of them, but she’s not a cruel or selfish person. And Meera Syal is doing a great job at loading all of that in there, which is a fine line to walk.

Anyway, that’s my fan ramble for today.

[zombolouge]

What was your favorite part of writing Indefensible? (Or any other story you want to talk about)

I can't remember if I answered your last one yesterday or the day before...so if I'm doing two days in a row, APOLOGIES.

Anyways, the answer: sharing it. It's always, always sharing it.

Don't get me wrong, I love a lot of the writing process. Most of it, in fact. I like thinking about characters in the back of my head all day every day. I love psychological analysis of every blorbo's trauma. I love the feeling of being struck with a plot idea and rushing to write it down before I forget. I love editing the same sentence 5 times until it has the right rhythm and tone to say what I need it to say. I love studying (or establishing) character speech patterns so that I can replicate them in their POV scenes.

For Indefensible specifically, I loved layering it. Every scene in that fic is doing 2 or more things. Be it character progression, mystery clues, connection to the past, introduction of a concept that'll come back later, nothing was single-purpose, and I had a fucking blast piling on the different layers. It was also REALLY fun to come up with mysteries and how to lay them out so that people could theoretically solve them before we'd get to the reveal, but also still had a fair chance of surprising them. :) Learning to juggle a billion different characters and character arcs was also a delight (even if this was maybe the hard mode for getting used to that).

But honestly my fave part of every story is sharing it. I think part of what gets me writing vs. just kind of enjoying a media regular-style is because I feel filled with an idea that's just too big for me. I feel compelled to get it out on a page so that I can show it to someone else and they can experience it with me. Which is very hippy-dippy, bleeding-heart nonsense, but it's very true (and let's be real, I am a hippy-dippy, bleeding-heart kind of fool). I *can* write something I'm not fully committed to, but I don't usually push myself to do that with a lot of my work because 1. I'm not being paid to do that and 2. It's easier to produce my best work when I've been swallowed whole by an idea.

I feel this way for both fic and original fiction (I really don't handle those two genres very differently from one another, other than one of them is owned IP and one of them isn't. My creative approach is about the same, though).

The best part of writing anything, to me, is always when I'm satisfied that I conveyed what I wanted to convey and I can then share it with somebody else. I am never guaranteed that anyone else will join me, but to those that do: thanks for being the best part of writing.

[madsworld15]

I am someone who has never really gotten star struck by famous people. It’s a personality trait that has helped me with my career as a TV critic since I have to interview all types of people.

It has also played a part, I’m assuming, in how Ryan Kelley interacts with me. I first met him at a con in 2015, but was so anxious about it being my first con that I didn’t talk to really anyone.

That said, he still somehow remembered me at the next con I saw him at. From there our conversations became more intimate and personal (not in a super deep way just beyond only talking about the show).

From 2017 to 2021 I didn’t see him at all, save for one very stilted Zoom call, and yet, when we interacted in 2022 it was fun to just catch up and see what each other had been up to.

Then, this past weekend I saw him again at a con and his surprise at seeing me was one I’ll never forget. Up to this point we’d only ever seen each other at a specific con in NJ. And here I was in Chicago.

All this to say if you treat celebrities like the people they are you just might find yourself looking down the barrel of 9 years of meetups and a bond that goes deeper than the average fan/performer.