#idk i needed to open the doors for healthy communication

[parkinglothater]

i feel like ive hit a mjor reset button my life and its literally tearing me apart

[norrizzandpia]

Hiii!! I hope you're doing well ??? :)

Sooo I was wondering if you can write something like the reader is in relationships with Oscar but they don't live together but they both live in Oxford near each other. And there is a really big storm but the reader HATE storms like crazy, I mean, she makes panic attacks just because of that and all the things that go with (idk if u understand) anyway. So she calls Oscar and he comes to comfort her.

Thanks if you do it 🫶🏻

SO SO CUTE also you added this to it for people who don’t know

Storms (OP81)

Summary: Where Y/n hates thunder storms and Oscar’s the only person who can calm her down.

Warnings: inferences of a panic attack, idk

Oscar was known for being typically unbothered. Very calm, not extremely well at communicating or showing his feelings, that was the way people described him. However, for once in his life, he was anything but unbothered. As he ran around his house like a maniac, grabbing his keys and other necessities, he spoke with his girlfriend over the phone, her voice trembling in fear over the loud storm raging on outside.

“I’m on my way, Y/n. Just take some deep breaths for me, yeah?” He said softly, different to the loudness in his head.

He knew she was nodding, not truly thinking about the fact he couldn’t see her. He slipped out of his house and into his car, connecting her to the speaker.

He heard the way the air in her lungs wasn’t quite there, making it hard for her to catch her breath. His ears strained as he tried to see if she was on the cusp of a panic attack, being familiar with the connection between her and those.

“Baby, breathe. I’m going to be there so soon, love. Just keep trying to breathe. For me, maybe?” Even though he tried to hide it, his tone exposed his own feelings of panic and dread. He was worried for her immensely, the way his hands shook told him that much.

“Y/n, I need you to talk back to me. It’ll only help you.” He gave, voice shaking slightly at the way she coughed on the other side of the phone.

Her broken voice met his ears, “I’m trying- to breathe.”

Her words were choppy as she tried another intake of breath, another failure. He nodded to himself, trying to calm himself down in order to handle her effectively. He turned the corner onto her street rather recklessly and his brakes squealed as he stopped in front of her house. Any other day and he would’ve scolded himself for driving so irrationally in the middle of a rainstorm.

“I’m here, baby. Just give me a moment and I’ll be at your door.” He didn’t wait to hear her reply. Ditching the umbrella. Oscar ran out in the rain with his phone hidden in his jacket. He rushed to her door, knocking quickly.

The door unlocked and, right as it inched open, he shoved himself in. Oscar didn’t truly look at her as he flung his arms around her and held her head to his wet chest.

His hands tangled in her hair as he felt her chest begin to even out, calming down and reaching a healthy breathing rhythm. He held onto her for a few minutes, saying nothing and making sure she was recovering. When he pulled back, her cheek glistened with the raindrops that had clung to his shirt and, even though she was cold with the shivering emitting from her body, she smiled up at him.

Finally, he breathed out, the worry etched into his face fleeting as he pushed her hair back and kissed her lightly.

“You scared me.” She whispered against him, hands clinging to his drenched jacket.

He reeled back, “I scared you?! You scared me!”

She nodded, “I can tell.”

His mouth fell agape at her words, “You’re acting like you didn’t just have a panic attack.”

She giggled at him, “No, just surprised at this new Oscar.”

He knew exactly what she meant. He was aware of the way he handled his emotions, knowledgable of the fact that he was quite closed off. However surprised he was at the emotions that just exuded from him freely, he wasn’t surprised at the fact it revolved around Y/n. His relationship with her was constantly teaching him different things, the way his emotions worked being one of them.

Suddenly, he was highly aware of the way his clothes stuck to his skin, now regretting his decision to forget about the umbrella. His girlfriend clocked his disgusted expression at the feeling and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward her bedroom and to the dresser that held his extra clothes.

She hunched over, looking through the drawers and sifting through the different underwear, sweatpants, shirts, and other items.

“What do you want?” She asked him. Oscar nudged her away, looking at her weirdly.

“Go lay down, Y/n. I got this. Just go rest, baby.” He persuaded her easily as she nodded and padded over to the bed behind him, plopping down.

When he was back, freshly dried with only his hair slightly damp, he joined her in the plush comforter. He pulled her into him as thunder boomed behind the windows. She curled further into him, the sounds making her palms sweat as she shoved her face in his chest. Oscar melted into her touch, letting his hand cradle her head as he planted kisses over her head.

“Thank you for being here, answering my call.” She whispered, fingers toying with the band of his pajamas.

He breathed her in, “Of course, love. I’ll always be there for you when you need me.”

Her hands moved to lay across his waist as he rubbed up and down her back. It was peaceful and quiet, even with the loudness from the outside.

He held her until she fell asleep and, even then, he didn’t let go. His grip on her never loosening, continuing to protect her from whatever startled her.

And there, in the makeshift cocoon he had constructed just for her, she felt incredibly safe.

[allthislove]

It really sucks how suddenly I'll get a flashback of my dad, like, when I was a kid or even a few years ago when he was healthy and vibrant, and then suddenly I'll think of him sick, on his last full day alive, laying in a hospital bed. Idk.

I just want to hold onto him. There's so many sweet moments from when he was in the hospital, but I don't want to depress everyone so I don't talk about it. Like, near the end, his lungs collapsed and I think he thought he was going to die right before they rushed in to do emergency surgery, so he kept waving me over. He couldn't talk by then (well. He could talk a little, but his voice was gone and his throat was raw, plus he had the thing in his neck to help him breathe.). I couldn't tell what he wanted, but I went to his side because I knew the medical teams would soon rush me out of the room. He grabbed my arm and kept pulling, re-gripping, pulling. His hand was moving up my forearm, and I figured he wanted me to lean down. And do you know what he did? He kissed my cheek. In his darkest hour, my daddy wanted to kiss me goodbye.

He didn't die, that day. I think he lived for another week or so? But I am so... impressed with him, that he was literally on the verge of death, getting an emergency procedure, and his thought was "let me kiss my daughter." He had done the arm grip thing before, but I didn't know what he was doing, then. I'm sad that I missed it, and I hope he didn't feel rejected. I know it must be frustrating to not be able to communicate well, especially when you've spent your entire life communicating for a living.

Part of me is calm about the whole thing, now. Some days, I can't feel him with me and I am extremely scared about what happens after we die. I fear that he just no longer exists- I fear no longer existing, one day. But other days, it's like he's talking directly to me. I can't explain it. It's not like a thought. It's not like hearing a voice. It's like I suddenly know and then I know it was him who told me.

I asked him, last night, why I can't feel him anymore. I heard nothing. I was so sad, and I kept telling him that I couldn't believe that there was a such thing as heaven, anymore. That the afterlife felt like something I was using to comfort myself more than something real. I'm telling you, I got no answer at all. Radio silence. Nothing.

Then today, I was walking through the house and thought I saw someone out of the corner of my eye. I paused and looked, saw nothing, and rolled my eyes. "Hello, the dead," I said sarcastically, and went to the kitchen to grab food. When I went back upstairs, I felt compelled to go into the bonus room, where Dad would work when he worked from home. Once in there, I thought about him, and I kinda just said, not serious at all, "Dad, are you haunting me?" And I swear, I heard an answer. Like, just suddenly knew. It was "No, I don't need to haunt. I got Jesus." Listen if you know me, you know I'm not that religious. But my Daddy was. He played piano for various churches during his life, and prayed up into the day he died. That was exactly the type of answer he would have given.

I know people think that we mourners make experiences like that up in our heads to comfort ourselves, but it came to me as if it was placed into my head. It wasn't like a thought, or like writing dialogue. And more than that, I went from feeling like "there's probably nothing after we die" and not being able to feel my dad at all, to immediately feeling... good? Like, I knew immediately that he told me that. It's not even my first time... he's done it before. Like, soon after he died, the garage was broken and wouldn't go down. I knew it could be fixed and I casually asked Dad to help. Moments later, the fix popped into my head. I knew to pull the red string on the garage door opener and realign the thing. That's something I wouldn't have known, but that Dad would. As evidenced by me not even knowing what the thing is called. (It's like a little level that has to fit into a notch so that the chain can move properly to pull the door up and down.) It worked, too.

I just wanted to talk about my dad. And like... advocate for the spiritual world existing, I guess, because... idk, these experiences seem real, to me. That's all. I feel better, now.

[sor-vette]

#15.5 134340 (slowed)

“It’s a refurbished student housing,” you explain as they trail after you like ducks in a row. Even if they don’t understand what you’re saying, they seem to be clinging to every word. Wherever you look there’s always at least one pair of doe eyes staring expectantly back at you a.k.a. what do you do when you open your doors and find a certain retired boyband for some reason wants to move in

• type: ot7 x fem! reader (poly) • w/c: 10.6k • rating: explicit

• c/w: *cracks knuckles* passive & active suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt (drowning) & mention of previous attempts, depression, homophobia, internalized heterosexism, toxic family dynamics, parental issues, use of f slur, infidelity (not really but idk how to describe it), alcohol consumption & its abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms, smoking, a relationship falling apart, (your beloathed) lack of communication, self - hate, arguments, sort of breakup, crying, pining, struggling with one's sexuality, mentions of depersonalization, so much crying like a ton, angst + smut!! oral (f receiving), spanking, use of a vibrator, light choking (it's...yeah.. hands... the ones who get it, get it), overstimulation, body worship, praise, light marking, just a dash of (healthy!) possessiveness as a treat, implied voyeurism, reader is insecure

• series’ masterlist • other works

• a/n: SMUT IS AT THE END SO IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ IT FEEL FREE TO SKIP :) In this chapter, the relationship between the boys is messy, like just pure angst. At this point in the timeline, they've understood that the nature of their relationship is not only "friends" but they're really struggling with it because 1) there's a lot of them, 2) some of them are insecure with their sexualities 3) all of them are stressed and overworked this year as it was in real life. No one has made it official, so they're all kind of struggling to understand what is this, some want to breach the next step, some are too afraid to commit. No one's the designated bad guy during this, everyone has their reasons, everyone has their hurt, which is I guess, the whole point of this fic. It mostly takes place from early 2018 to early 2019, with the exception of time skip to present day at the very end. In the endnotes, you'll find some trivia about this year and what's released when in this universe. Also, forgive me for the smut, idk how to write it lmao

There's no point in time that Yoongi could name as a schism, as a reason why he felt different to everyone else. There was a boy named Min Yoongi, born on March 9, 1993, and he reckoned that he lived like other kids did.

Yes, the point of darkness was overwhelming yet also invisible. One day a boy, next day a man on a brink of suicide. It wasn't like he wanted it all the time - to die. Maybe once or twice had he gone to the level of planning it out, of doing it, half-heartedly, of course, if not he wouldn't be here to lament on that fact. It was just a never-ending morbid curiosity, like a shock wire that zapped him intermittently over the years. It was just always there - unshakeable, unmendable, a deep need to just rest, disappear, become once again nothing from which he was brought out into life.

It was hardly a new experience, more of an old wound, a scab but he knew not how to treat it. Maybe he should just adjust that this was him, a fundamental part of his existence - to hate it.

Namjoon stormed into his studio, face chafed red from the wind and eyes dead to the world. He walked without speaking a word, dropped a stack of torn pages on top of Yoongi's desk and left just as mutely as he came in. It had become a routine occurrence. Their hatred towards each other had snuck up just as invisible. Or it was not hatred... Yoongi's hand reflexively sank into the pages. Hoseok... No perhaps not hatred, but whatever it was hurt enough to cause unceasing bitterness. Shaking his head, Yoongi purged any stray thoughts - of Hoseok, of Jimin, everyone. Fuck them, he was too tired.

Lazily, he raised the pages to his eyes, trying to decipher the erratic, jumping lines. The ink was smudged in some places and if he would brush them, the words would fade even more as faint moisture still clung to the paper. He glanced outside. The weather was beautiful, with not a single rain cloud in sight.

He drew a big, exhausted sigh but made no attempt to follow Namjoon, it would not be welcome anyway. Rather, he fished out a nearby pen and traced the lyrics.

If only I could, I wanted to ask you Why did you do that back then? Why did you kick me out? Without a name to myself, I still revolve around you Our goodbye is colourless, that unchanging colour

He stood frozen with flowers in hand like a complete fool, stuck mid-step. What he wanted, was to run to fly, no, to evaporate, perhaps never to be born. She was really pretty and nice, blushing timidly she adjusted Hoseok's shirt around her bare thighs and Yoongi turned away to not make her uncomfortable. He wanted to hate her, to scream and curse at her but it would be unfair and he was not in the habit of ever insulting women. As Hoseok padded out of his room, he froze as well, momentarily glancing down at the flowers. The ones Yoongi knew he knew were meant for and for a brief, passing moment Hoseok's face fell dour, even something akin to guilt coloured his cheeks but then it passed and if there ever was a sound to heartbreak it would be the one Yoongi heard right now.

"Hi, you're Suga, right? Hoseok's friend?" the girl asked awkwardly, trying to ease the surging tension.

"No," he croaked.

Hoseok was staring at the wall. How do you tell your sneaky link that Yoongi was not only "that friend" but also soulmate, a lover, a hole of fucking dirt it seemed that deserved no explanation, not a single word of clarity. Her eyes flitted between the two men as tension was rising to a nearly unbearable degree.

"I'll go freshen up," she at last squeaks and was quick to scurry away. Yoongi wanted to do much the same.

"What's her name?" Yoongi asked, tone deep and expressionless as he watched her disappear. His head simply refused to turn towards Hoseok and maybe that was for the better.

"It's...uh... Do-Yun, yeah."

"Do-Yun is blonde."

Hoseok fell silent, dropping his hands by the side. Yoongi didn't know which one was worse if Hoseok would start actually loving them or remain like this. Either way, he was tired of hearing how he was Hoseok's happiness, how he set him free, how he could be the only one Hoseok didn't have to pretend with, only to be met every other morning with this - a new starstruck fancy and his own heart in tatters. He was done.

"Hey...Yoongi," Hoseok began, perhaps telling from Yoongi's expression that this time was different but he didn't want to listen to anything anymore. Definitely no more lies.

Without replying, he took a step back when Hoseok reached out and tossed the bouquet into the trash without looking back.

The most aggravating thing, of course, whether they believed it or not, was that they were all connected. More like flies in the same spider web but connected nonetheless. So when Yoongi wanted to leave, he couldn't. There were still remaining five members with who,m the relationship was no easier nowadays. They didn't know what exactly was the catalyst but the situation was stifling. They tolerated each other only due to the sheer force of managers manifesting itself as being physically pulled by their hair to be in the same room, it was just that nauseating.

Yoongi breezed past Jin, not acknowledging his presence in the lobby. To be fair neither did he as Jin's gaze remained firmly focused on the ground. From one of the rooms, raised, furious voices were travelling down the hall, inciting piqued and also nervous attention. The door was ripped open and Jungkook ran out, cheeks covered in tears. He pushed past everyone, blind and deaf to Jimin's calls after him. Wasn't that a familiar scene. Jimin stood in the doorway, frowning. On his neck Yoongi spotted a hickey and though faint there was a perfume lingering in the air that distinctly didn't belong to any of them. It was sickening and yet by now familiar.

"What do you want?" he snapped at Yoongi watching him.

"Nothing from you."

Jimin turned around and slammed the doors shut so hard they made a loud creak of protest. Numbly Yoongi trekked on, ignoring everyone's inquisitive glances. But the day proved itself in desperate need to screw him over because in front of his studio lo' and behold sat Hoseok. Unkempt and sleepless, he was perched on the ground, seemingly gone to the trouble of being here the whole night - waiting. Where once this gesture would make Yoongi's heartbeat out of his chest, now it left behind a sour taste. He just wanted to be alone. They didn't want him anyway so why the display?

Noticing Yoongi's slumped shuffling, Hoseok sprung up, eyes wide in panic.

"Hey," he stammered but Yoongi didn't respond.

Walking straight ahead he typed in the code and would have run into the safety of the four walls if not for the hand grabbing his elbow.

"I'm... Listen... I can be better-"

"No, stop. Stop spewing the usual routine! I don't care anymore."

With some sick satisfaction, he watched Hoseok recoil. When he spoke his voice was thin and watery.

"You don't?"

"No," Yoongi lied, "I don't. Did you think I was going to wait for you forever? Like a dog? Am I your pet?"

Hoseok took a step back, shaking his head, mortified.

"No! Of course not! It's just..."

Yoongi narrowed his eyes.

"Just - what?" he asked venom dripping from his tone.

"You know...It's not... you!" Hoseok shrunk in on himself. "You're confident about it. You...you say who you are and you don't care what people think! I can't...you know I struggle."

"So does Namjoon," Yoongi snarled. "But he at least respects me."

"I do respect y-"

"No, no. I'm done, Hoseok, I'm just done."

And so the conversation ended with a similar door slam.

There’s no name allowed for me I, too, used to be your star You must feel nice to be the light All I did was to receive you

Yoongi sat fiddling with the water glass, his hands clammy and his heart trembling to the point he had half the mind to worry whether it was an early stroke. The pleasant music of the restaurant did nothing to soothe his nerves.

"Hello, son," his mother cooed all the from the entrance across the floor. He got up and was instantly welcomed in her arms. Her grip was so strong he began to choke. His father trailed behind and the only greeting between them was a brisk nod. While the attempts to remain civil and conversational were made, they quickly fell through and they were left ticking slowly away. The dam burst with a seemingly innocuous albeit difficult question.

"Are you still living with those boys?" his father asked, tense and glaring at the steak.

"They're in dorms, honey, of course, they would live together," his mother laughed, glancing anxiously at Yoongi. Her eyes pleaded to not say anything but as the night progressed, so were his nerves stretched thinner. He was just so very, very tired.

"Still, when you're on a break shouldn't a healthy young man live on his own? What if you want to bring a girl home?"

Yoongi's jaw tightened.

"I don't bring girls home," he quietly amended.

His father's lips thinned.

"What do you mean by healthy?"

The whole table stopped breathing and his mother drew a big sigh, preemptively hiding her face away.

"You know what I mean."

"I do," Yoongi hummed, "but please explain anyway."

He didn't, instead, simply kept glaring but Yoongi being now not a 15-year-old kid but a seasoned man well versed in all manners of hate, responded in earnest.

"Oh, did you mean if I would bring men home? Would I be sick then?"

"It's not natural."

Yoongi fixed him with a cold glare.

"You know what's not natural? For a father to ignore his family, for him to gamble away all day when his children and wife work themselves to death to eat."

"I WILL NOT HAVE A FAG FOR A SON!" his father smacked the table so loud, the wine glass tipped over and spilt all over the white linen cloth.

"Then I will not be your son," Yoongi calmly concluded, raising to stand. He bowed to his mother, expressing that he was glad to see her and left the restaurant.

Driving back home, he bought bottle after bottle,, so much so the cashier was worried he'd drink himself to death. Yoongi wanted to smirk and crack a joke that indeed that was the plan but deciding against traumatising a stranger he settled on an impassive shrug. He drank until laughter rose from his chest. Though when inevitably it stopped, he felt somehow even worse. His phone kept buzzing, and his father's words kept ringing into his ears, and the numerous arguments and disappointments kept replaying in front of his eyes and he just wanted for it to stop. Stumbling his way to the bathroom he looked at the clear water of the running bath. Then without much thinking, acting on a split second straying thought he stuck his head in and kept it there. He forced his head down as his lungs began to burn as it started to hurt, oh God, it hurt so much but stubbornly he kept his head underwater, feeling with every passing second like he was going to explode. Namjoon should have a fun time trying to get a call back if he was dead. But still, when the moment came, his body slung back, deprived of all strength and miserably Yooongi was still very much alive, only hacking up water and clawing at the bathroom tiles.

After that, he took a sick leave and was happy to not see anything but the wall for three days straight.

What meaning is left of the fallen planet’s remaining life I’ll receive it til' I die, your stifling stare I still orbit you, and nothing’s changed If love has no name, everything has changed

Yoongi was sitting the furthest away from everyone when in the meeting room they weighed on the idea of disbandment. Bang Si-hyuk and Sejin were sweating bullets, rightfully so, but there was nothing they could do to stop the golden geese from leaving if they wanted to. And by the looks of it - they wanted to. No one did so much as a glimpse at each other maybe for Taehyung and Jungkook but one glance at absolutely homicidal Jimin and Jungkook, at least outwardly so, cast away any regrets.

"Boys, boys, I'm sure you can patch thing up!" Sejin tried to appease. Namjoon opened his mouth but was quickly interrupted by Yoongi.

"I don't want to patch thing up."

To say that Bang Si-hyuk felt sick would be an understatement. If Yoongi wanted out there was little chance the rest could be dissuaded.

"I'm done being your doll and I'm done with everyone in this room," he sneered and walked out, trying to not even catch a peek of the heartbroken expressions.

He kept working still, too scared that if he would go home, the incident would occur again but when his head hit the edge of the desk and his shoulder hurt too much from lounging on the sofa, begrudgingly Yoongi dragged himself out. It was 3 in the morning and so Bighit was emptier though not entirely vacant.

He walked with head hung long, sight occasionally blurring. Another body slammed into his and Yoongi was just about to apologize when he recognized that it was Jimin. So he said nothing. The fights had been too many to count and so brutal Yoongi didn't even recall what he should despise Jimin exactly for but he did his best to keep the flame going

"Does your shoulder hurt?" it was said exceptionally wry and with a hard scowl.

"Yes," Yoongi grimaced as well.

"Take some pain medication."

"I will."

A beat of silence passed between them.

"You know what I hate most about you?" Jimin asked and Yoongi's fists bunched up as if to physically protect him from the heartbreak.

"What?"

Jimin lunged forwards and as he did there was perhaps a briefly humorous flash of "that gremlin is going to beat me up!" but instead of a punch, Jimin landed a hug.

He clung around Yoongi's waist like a lifeline and when his nose made impact with his neck, it became wet.

"I can't hate you, I try and I can't!" he cried. " I don't hate you or anyone or even her, I just..." his breath became a mess of incoherent sobs. " I just really hate myself."

Hearing the sharp desperation in his voice. Yoongi wrapped his arms around Jimin's waist in return. He was shaking so bad it was a miracle he was still standing.

"Tell me how to not hate myself. Tell me, Yoongi, please!"

And with a sad, hollow feeling that rises when such a realization takes place, Yoongi recognised he didn't know.

Could it be really that you’ve found Eris Tell me, how am I not as good as that moon Us is the plural form of U Maybe I wasn’t there from the start

They agreed to at least stay amicable if the worst is about to happen. And it was about to happen. Yoongi felt much like he was strapped to a maglev train, rapidly breezing past everything towards an unforgiving and cruel cliff face. There was nothing he could do to stop the collision, nothing to save them from the painful demise, bounding without a care for their well being. Of course, the arrangement to at least call once a year is only made with Jimin. He was the only one Yoongi had spoken a single word on his own wish. But he was getting worse each day. They all were. When cameras turned away all smiles and cheer fled, leaving only soulless shells, lingering around like ghosts. The disbandment was largely now an undisputed fact. Preparations were made to say the final words and dance the final stage. It felt surreal to quit right at the height of their career but if anything that strained them only to new lows. No longer having their trusted supported system, everyone sought comfort wherever they could. Yoongi and Jimin drank regularly, Jin spent thousands if not millions on food or locked himself in the room all day, similarly to Jungkook. No one knew exactly what Taehyung was doing but since his other friends haven't heard from him either, the general understanding was that he did it alone. Namjoon busied himself into work, nearly all hours of the day could light be seen in his studio. But it was Hoseok who took to it the hardest. He reeked of cigarettes, sometimes came to work dreadfully hangover and spoke only in single sentences with long periods of silence between. It was hard for Yoongi to insist that he didn't care when watching them all just...fade. It did become easier when he recalled previous strings of lovers some amassed all while telling Yoogni that they were in love with him. Yes, then it became easier. But not by a lot. In many ways, time was ticking to an end for Yoongi's career, his friends and maybe his life too. He just wasn't sure of anything these days.

Someday, you’ll also understand my words My seasons were always you My cold heart is 248 degrees below zero It stopped the day you erased me Damn

"What do you mean you're in Rome?"

"It means that I'm here," Yoongi replied dryly.

"You are supposed to be in Paris!"

"I'm well aware."

If feasible, Namjoon would scream right into the phone but being a good leader he just relayed the information to Sejin who did scream. There was this little tiny detail that in twelve hours, he was supposed to be in concert in Paris but he was, extraordinarily and without his understanding, standing in Rome.

Yoongi was rather certain he had taken the right plane but the point stood that against all logic he wounded up many kilometres away from where he needed to be, without a manager or a bodyguard in sight. He was for the first time in a long time, longer than he could recall, free. With only a backpack to his name, he blended well into his surroundings with none the wiser of his identity. That actuality washed over him, making his head swim as though intoxicated. There was a great deal of chatter behind the phone, compromised security, postponement and such but it all brushed past him. He kept blinking at the airport announcement board with a newfound sense of amazement, wondering time and time again - what if he just kept being normal? Kept having the privilege of enjoying simple things?

All he gathered, in the end, was to not wander off. They shall send him security and managers. Jugnkook even advised to lock himself in the bathroom but Yoongi did no such thing. He got a coffee, a sandwich, plus some kind of sweet thing that he did not know the name of and while swaying his legs back and forth enjoyed this small reverie. It was somehow easier to breathe and his shoulder despite still aching, hurt a lot less than usual. If Yoongi didn't know better, he would almost think there was something magical at play this particular day. As he looked over the crowd of rushing people his eyes naturally lingered on one. He didn't know why he kept staring at the stranger but deep inside he had this gnawing like a distant suspicion. Intently following their journey, from the sleep-deprived stumble into the doors to the breakage of the suitcase. A suitcase whose colour made his blood run cold. Suddenly, he's taken years back, rain bouncing like bullets underneath the tarp of the 24/7 store. Him, tucked by Hoseok's side and someone, that someone, you, standing further away, red suitcase in tow and watching them back from the dark.

The longer he looked at, the less he could reign in the horrifying reckoning that her and well, her, were, somehow, the same person. He knew that red, he knew that shade. It was such a little detail but he remembered it so well. That red is the same red they kept mentioning in their songs, that red - the same red Jimin loathed so, that red - the same one which he saw behind his eyes, wondering how life would be if they'd done things differently.

She raised her head and met Yoongi's gaze. And he couldn't look away no more and he couldn't think of anything else. Did she understand? Did you understand who sat before you? Did you understand the things unravelling outside your reach?

No, you must not, because you fixed your suitcase, beat the fallen off handle in its place and walked away. Yoongi sprung from his seat. There are muffled complaints coming around - his coffee cup had fallen on the floor - but he didn't think of them. Didn't spend a single second on anything else. In frenzy one he didn't quite fully understand, he rushed after her. The only thing in his vision was the stupid red of her stupid suitcase which he chased like a moth does a flame. This is wrong, he told himself, it's wrong but he couldn't stop. He wanted to cry on her shoulder and tell her all the things that were or could be and most of all he wanted to know whether she had this space as well. Like a missing tooth or a piece of misplaced furniture, an awkward gap in Yoongi's heart that reminded him ever so often of what was not where it should be.

He finally found her right at the exit of the airport standing unsurely by the revolving doorway. The beautiful city of Rome was in front of her and the slight wind ruffled her hair. She should be excited but she was far from so. In fact, Yoongi had not yet seen eyes so lifelessly vacant. He thought to himself that she did feel as terribly lonely as he did.

He took a cautious step forward, ripping the skin off his fingers, not quite knowing what to do. But if she was as abandoned as he, maybe the story of having soulmates will bring some comfort, no matter how delirious. That there was someone, well, seven someone's meant to care for her. But then he recalled Hoseok, staring off into the wall as the next girl escapes their apartment, the endless arguments, the brushed off affections, crying, screaming, panic attacks in the corners, diets and his head below the waterline, hoping that this time will be the one he would be successful. That made him pause mid-step and gaze sadly on. What love did they have, could they give?

"I just really hate myself," Jimin's words rung crystal clear back into his ears. They had none for themselves where else to another person. Whatever dread she was feeling passed and after drawing a deep breath she stepped outside the airport. Outside this small miraculous bubble of impossibility that brought them together across the wide world. And as Yoongi watched her leave, the red suitcase trailing behind, he wished only the best.

The Paris show started as planned. It went so well, momentarily everyone forgot the circumstances around each other, animatedly chattering backstage. Jimin was lounging across Jungkook and Taehyung, Jin and Namjoon laughed heartily on the side, Hoseok hugged Yoongi and he did not push the man away. It seemed for an insane moment that the bad times will pass, that this hurt will heal on its own so that they could just enjoy each other's presence like they used to. But it doesn't. The second that rush died down, the hurt settled back like an oozing scab and one by one they realized what they were doing. And to everyone's chagrin, the playful atmosphere dissipated. And Yoongi, now brushed away, thought against mentioning that he'd seen her. Selfishly, he kept this memory to himself.

I’m just orbiting you (I missed you, I lost you) I’m just going in circles (You erased me, you forgot me)

I once belonged in a world under the sun (The song paused, the song stopped) A smoky layer of mist in the heart of the stars (You erased me, you forgot me)

It’s not much different from yesterday ay Same old days, except you’re not here We were together just up until yesterday ay But it’s to the point where it’s scary, same days but no you

This was it. The tour was coming to an end, ominous December 18th looming on the calendar. The last days. Yoongi had not seen anyone else for some time now. The only contact was Jungkook's text sent some time ago.

Even despite it all, I don't regret meeting you.

And that was it.

Eight years down the drain. Any day now Bighit will publish the disbandment announcement whilst furiously trying to arrange schedules, decline meetings snd generally ease them back into obscurity. They queued up their last songs, their final messages and prepared to promptly disappear from everyone's and especially each other's lives. Soulmates?

What a bunch fucking bullshit.

He heard a ring by the door, frowning at it from his nest of blankets on the bed. Around him there lay documents and chunks of scratched lyrics. Namjoon's song which he had worked all the way from March was yet unfinished and Yoongi feared it never will be. It was too much...too much of him had bled into it, leaving behind spots of ink pooling like blood around the paper. Sneering at the fallen papers when Yoongi at last rustled to climb out the bed, waddling his way to the door. Warily glancing through the peephole, he was surprised to see Hoseok on the other side. He was gnawing on his lip, pacing around with flowers in his hand. It had been nearly a year since meeting not-Do-Yun nevertheless he was hit with a wave of deja vu. His hair was unwashed and he was so tired, he couldn't even stand straight. For some unknown reason, his heart beat sickly in his chest, too faint and too strong at the same time. Should he just leave Hoseok, just never open the doors? He wanted to. It would be a safe action. But then he looked back onto the big bold letters of December 18th on the calendar. They didn't have much time left. Who knew maybe this was the last time he would ever see Hoseok face to face like friends, like... whatever the hell they were to each other.

Oddly self-conscious, he popped the door open and Hoseok jumped, clearly not anticipating that he would be listened to. When he saw the opening doors, his face was briefly illuminated by the brightest smile Yoongi had yet seen on him this year, and he tried not to think at all how it stirred something in his gut.

"Hey," Hoseok swayed on his feet, waving awkwardly. "T-these are for you."

He thrust a bouquet of colourful tulips into Yoongi's arms before he even could say anything. He held them close, not quite certain what to do anymore.

"Thanks," he wheezed. Hoseok looked him over.

"Are you taking care of yourself?"

Yoongi hoped that the bandage on his arm was not noticeable at this angle or the shards of glass from when he smashed the bottle of whiskey yesterday.

"Adequate enough."

It was obviously a lie but one Hoseok did not call him out on.

"I just wanted to say that they pulled out our appearance SBS’ Gayo Daejeon year-end show as well as KBS’ Gayo Daechukje year-end show."

Yoongi nodded along, gazing at the flowers. They smelt nice and the petals were in pristine condition.

"Jimin will release his solo track "Promise" on December 31 and then -"

"That's it," he concluded emptily and Hoseok's eyes began to get suspiciously damp.

"That's it," he echoed, trying to subtly wipe at his face. Yoongi shifted from one foot to another but nothing alleviated the lump rising in his throat. That train had picked up speed and he was breaths away from hitting the wall.

"Have you heard it?" he asked Hoseok lowly receiving a jittery shake of the head in response. He was on the verge of tears.

"N-no, h-he...we h-haven't made up," he gasped for air. "I-I've on-only seen Namjoon."

Yoongi remained standing in the doorway, wrenched apart by guilt and discomfort and pity and the need to protect and the need to curl up into a ball and just die. This was not how it was meant to be. They were okay with the world tearing them apart, expecting it anyway but not each other to do so. Why had the arguments become too much to be settled, since when was pride too important to listen to the other? When had they gone so wrong?

That point of darkness remained invisible still.

"I-I came here to say, th-that I don't regret meeting you. I regret hurting you, I regret lying but not meeting you," Hoseok cried in his sleeve, muffling most of his voice so that the tears would at least not be so audible. Yoongi heard it nonetheless.

"Take care of yourself. You deserve more. I'm sorry for everything. I love you, I'm sorry," and then he simply ran off.

Yoongi was yet again left standing alone and numb.

I’ll be honest, even up until one year without you I was fine, I didn’t have any feelings left The last day I had forgotten I don’t even remember your scent But wait, I’ve smelled this perfume somewhere, ay Just when my memory was about to come back I turned my head around and saw you You’re smiling brightly, but beside you there’s

I love you, I'm sorry. I love you, I'm sorry. I love you, I'm sorry. I love you, I'm sorry. I love you, I'm sorry. I love you, I'm sorry.

He glimpsed back onto the apartment. It was messy and trashed. He didn't have the strength to cook, to clean, to do anything but spiral, deeper and deeper. He knew, he knew it in his bones, that if he stayed he would do something to himself and that it was no little chance that his luck would finally wear out.

"What the hell are you sorry for, bastard?" he muttered to himself, stomping through the streets. Large, wet snowflakes were falling from the sky, dusting the world in a faint white layer that inevitably melted into a sludge of grey and brown. People and cars rushed past him but he nor heard, nor saw any of them.

I love you, I'm sorry. I love you, I'm sorry. I love you, I'm sorry. I love you, I'm sorry. I love you, I'm sorry. I love you, I'm sorry.

It became too much. The words pressed on his head, creating a neverending noise looping round and round and round. All that was said, what should be said what won't be said. It was getting hard to breathe.

He won't see them ever again. They will remain too stubborn, then too scared to reach out. They will never see each other again. It will be over. He had met his cliff face and it destroyed him. Splatters of yellow, white and red painted the snow. It was the tulips. Yoongi had been holding them all this time and as he struggled to breathe, unknowingly he had broken the blooms from the stems when he had clutched them too hard.

With a sharp gasp, he kneeled down, trying to gather them up once again but the damage was irreparable. The flowers were broken.

"Are you okay, mister?" a pleasant voice asked and a swishing end of a bright red coat entered his vision. He raised his gaze, desperate for it to be her, he thinks she would understand him, but it was not. Snow fell into Yoongi's face and he didn't know whether that made his face wet or was he crying just like Hoseok. It was not her.

"No," he replied.

"I don't think those flowers can be repaired."

"I know."

Yoongi made no attempt to get himself off the cold ground. He wanted to melt into it, into serenity and stop all of this.

"You can pick up the blooms though. My mom used to do that. Just the blooms and then put them in a shallow bowl of water. They'll keep living at least for a few days."

Obeying her command, Yoongi picked up the blooms and bowed to her in gratitude though he spoke no more. As he walked further along the streets, holding tightly onto what he could salvage, he didn't see how the woman looked after him. When he turned the corner she shook her head.

"Idiots," she whispered to herself and walked away.

Yoongi moved without much understanding or even recognition of what reality was. The lights blended in one, all the sounds, all the people, everything was a mass that enveloped all around but he could not make sense of.

He will lose, he had lost everything.

Namjoon, his number one supporter, Jin, his number one entertainer, Hoseok, his ray of sun, Taehyung, his unexpected but devoted idiot, Jimin, both the angel and the devil on his shoulder and Jungkook, who looked at Yoongi like he was the star. Like he was someone special. They all looked like he was someone to be adored, someone to be loved.

He stopped walking when he tripped over something and fell flat on his back. The tulips he managed to keep close to his chest this time. And for some reason his coat smelt of Hoseok.

"Yoongi, are you okay?" he heard Jungkook's voice and not a second later was yanked upwards. He blinked wearily through the snow and saw the once familiar 24/7 shop, the tarp, the seats, the tight voices of everyone around. He had found his far way into Daehang-no.

How are you? I’m doing okay Unlike my heart, that feels like it’ll explode The temperature right now is -248 degrees

"I hate you more!"

"No, I hate you!"

"You had no right to say it!"

"You had no right to do it!"

"Do you want us to part?! Do you want to get away?!"

"No, I don't want to! Do you?!"

"No, I can't stand the thought!"

They screamed their throats raw and once they did that they talked, and drank, but mostly talked. Yoongi said little as usual, merely looking on. Jungkook placed his head on Yoongi's shoulder as neither had the strength left to put up the front that they didn't care. They cared so much, perhaps too much. Maybe that's what caused the drift in its core. Not the hate, but the care that had been left unspoken and unmentioned for too long.

"I can't stop thinking of her," he muttered to Jungkook, brushing the petals of the red tulip. "I can't stop thinking of what her day is like, what she's doing, how she's feeling."

Jungkook reached to touch his chest.

"She's fine today," he answered as if he knew.

"You don't know that."

"I know. I have... a talent."

Yoongi put his head atop of Jungkook's and pestered him no longer. If he said he did, maybe he did. The world was so strange, far stranger than Yoongi had given it credit for.

"I don't want to leave," Taehyung cried onto the table, the warm tears melting away the small remnants of snow that managed to stick to the plastic. "I don't want to leave! What am I supposed to do without you?"

"Don't cry, Taehyung," Jimin insisted wiping away his friend's cheeks even if he was the one that bawled the most.

"Fuck this, let's just stay together," Jin called out. "Who cares what we are? What we call each other? Do you care?" he looked onto Namjoon who shook his head furiously, turning briefly green as the motion sickness took over.

"Do you care?" Jin asked Yoongi and nuzzling into his padded coat, Yoongi shook his head as well. He did not.

"Then what, pardon my language, the fuck are we doing? Are we idiots or something?"

"Undoubtedly," Hoseok murmured.

After a few more drinks, Namjoon fell flat on his ass and announced in horror that Sejin was releasing a statement of their disbandment. Rushing, tripping and yelling over each other they rushed to BigHit and upon seeing Sejin tackled him to the ground.

"We changed our mind!"

"Cancel the disbandment!"

"We're not leaving!"

Sejin was getting purple in Jungkook's chokehold. And Yoongi who kept the tulips in his hand, standing by the side, laughed and laughed until his stomach hurt.

I’m just orbiting you (Beyond the fog, I watch you as you continue to smile Without you or anything There’s no meaning to my irregular orbit)

Jungkook and Jimin finished singing the chorus and Yoongi gave a thumbs up. Namjoon and Jin were sleeping behind him on the small of the couch, Hoseok sat next to him, chiming in occasionally on what sounded better what not and Taehyung was designated on the coffee duty.

It was April 2019 and there had been no disbandment. The tour was quickly gathered up, extension dates added and the single 134340 was set to be released soon, more than a year after Namjoon had dropped the initial lyrics onto Yoongi's desk.

It had not been easy after that, arguments still rose, insecurities still persisted but they did not allow them to escape their control. And when Yoongi told them of the "incident"... they accepted him as he was, while helping the best they could. It was, for now at least, easier to not settle onto any terms, they were as they had been and had no intention of parting and whatever relationship they had going on, that was its groundwork.

"I really like your part," Hoseok remarked, bumping Yoongi's healthy shoulder.

"Thanks," he replied, blushing faintly.

"You sure you want to keep Adora in the song?"

"Yeah, if it's a song about us, she deserves a spot in, even if it's actually Adora's voice."

"Yeah," Hoseok drawled as the door was kicked open and Namjoon fell on the floor, somehow yanking the lamp with him from the shock. Taehyung without batting an eye stepped over, beaming wide and with numerous coffees.

"I got cookies as well," he announced. "They started to sell those giant ones downstairs."

Yoongi's phone rang and so he left right when they began to squabble over who would get the chocolate chip one. It was his brother for some reason.

"Hello?"

But there was no one on the other end. At least, not directly so. There were voices, arguing and loud voices fighting in the distance.

"I will not lose my son!" his mother yelled. Yoongi had not heard her this angry...perhaps forever.

"But he's..."

"I DON'T CARE WHO HE IS OTHER THAN HE IS MY SON! HE'S BEEN WORKING HARDER THAN ANYONE IN THIS FAMILY! HE'S THE REASON WE HAVE A STURDY ROOF OVER OUR HEADS AND NOT YOU! DAMNIT, YOU STUPID MAN, YOU WILL EITHER ACCEPT HIM AS HE IS OR YOU'LL SEE NONE OF US EVER AGAIN!"

And there was a hard smack of doors behind her, most likely the front. Then only silence.

"So you got that, right?" his brother suddenly spoke, nearly sending Yoongi into a shock state.

"Yeah, I got it."

Then he dared to breathe.

"Why did you show me that?"

"I don't know," his brother replied, shrugging almost audibly. "They've been going at this for a while now and I just thought that maybe you might feel...I don't know...unloved, forgotten? ...So don't think that you are... I don't know."

Neither of his mother's sons had the gift of talking easy what they felt, oftentimes, it was easier to just settle on cut fruits, tokens of apologies but not actual words so to hear his brother reach out, no matter how awkwardly, was... it stirred something unexpected when it came to his family.

"Do you care?"

"Not really. I mean, no offence, but you didn't really hide that you're gay even back home."

"I'm not gay."

There was a pause of silence.

"Ok, do you...have you...I don't know, do you identify with something or is it more like "whatever" type of thing."

"I'm pansexual."

Surprisingly, his brother didn't linger anymore.

"Ok, noted. Congratulations?"

"This sort of thing is not congratulated."

They both snickered on each side.

"Ok, noted that as well."

"How...how is he?" Yoongi tapped at the wall while he spoke. His therapist had recently begun working him through on the habit of ruining his fingers be it biting or nibbling, tapping was supposed to help. So he hoped.

"He's...different. It's not that he doesn't...don't think that he hates you...he's just...yeah."

His brother truly had not been gifted with conversational skills, yet Yoongi understood what he meant.

"Hmm."

"Do you wish he would accept you without mom threatening to leave him?

Yoongi laughed dryly.

"Wouldn't that be a perfect world?"

"Yeah," his brother sighed. "Shame though. Listen, I know you're probably busy these days, but...maybe you want to...you know..."

"Meet?"

"Yeah, it'd be cool to catch up."

"Sure. I'll free the schedule. Next week?"

"Alright, next week then. Bye, take care."

"You too."

Still unsure that the call ever happened, Yoongi lowered the phone and a new message popped up. It was from his father.

You are my son.

It took him five whole minutes to send the following text, but Yoongi had kept staring at his phone, so he didn't miss it.

If you want to be.

That was a very good question. A complicated, hard question he didn't know the answer to. Still, he gathered enough courtesy to reply.

Give it some time.

Drawing a deep breath, he tucked the phone away and re-entered the studio. Taehyung was brandishing the chocolate chip cookie.

"My king," he bowed deeply with a lopsided smirk, presenting Yoongi the treat like a crown.

"Knock it off," he scowled playfully, feeling his face grow hot and rushing back into the chair. "What did I do to earn this luxury?"

Namjoon yawned, nearly splitting his jaw in two.

"You've worked on this song harder than any of us. You deserve it."

"Do you think she would like it?" Jimin asked, staring at his cup of coffee. Lately, all his questions were about her but no one could fault him for that. Now, that everyone had stopped arguing, they were left wondering, wondering and dreaming of possibilities far away.

"I like it," you finally gave in as Jimin had gripped your face in his palms and refused to let go. "Of course, I like it. What do you want me to do, say no when you're here to strangle me?!"

It was Friday evening and years had already passed since the creation of 134340. Looking around Yoongi could hardly believe that things could have ever gone so wrong. Sitting in the small sofa, with word games and cards scattered around, squeezed amid the various take out boxes it felt so far away - the bad days, though Yoongi was not naive enough to assume they were out of reach. The arrival of Mark to him felt ominous and your mother even more so. He had somewhat patched things up with his father, not completely but enough to stay in touch, mostly for the sake of his own mother's well being. But he would rather have you not be strained into something like that.

While you and Jimin kept squabbling, he crossed eyes with Hoseok who was watching you intently from the sidelines. He hadn't let you out of his sight ever since the meeting with Mark. Sometimes Yoongi pondered had he looked at Hoseok the same way - reverent but so scared, scared to hurt, to be hurt. As they glanced at each other, they bloomed into knowing, bittersweet smiles. Everything still hung in balance but they had pulled themselves out of a more hopeless ditch so maybe, despite their shared idiocy, everything would fall in its rightful place.

He rather not think of an alternative. The "incident" was not entirely forgotten.

"Yoongi, there's literally a seat over there," Namjoon pointed out, peeking over his glasses as he leisurely munched on a fry, simultaneously obliterating Jungkook at Pictionary.

"So take it then," he tossed back, snuggling deeper into your lap.

"Dear God, it hurts," you whined as he pressed you deeper into the sofa.

"Life is pain, baby, you just have to bear it."

And so he continued to practically purr in your lap while Jungkook was breaths away from tearing into Namjoon. It felt nice having everyone around. Felt like a dream, to be honest.

When the house had quieted down and they retreated for the night, he lingered back to stare through the kitchen window. It still threw him out the loop to find somewhat unfamiliar sights staring back at him. But he didn't regret it. How could he?

When he heard someone padding into the kitchen, he turned around, expectant.

"What are you doing sitting in the dark, weirdo?" you accused him walking to get a cup of water. A habit of yours, one he hadn't at all anticipated this night.

"Waiting for you. Big bad wolf and all that."

"Get the garb, wolf, you're supposed to look like a grandma," you smirked back.

He glimpsed you all over, darting his tongue to wet the drying lips. Your bare legs, your shoulder from which that small piece of fabric you dared to call a nightgown had slipped away from. There was nothing really seductive per se and yet also it was everything. No wonder, Jin had gotten a nosebleed when you started wearing this thing.

"Come with me," he reached his hand out, standing upright. You eyed his hand dubiously.

"Why? It's 1 in the morning and again - why?"

"Do you have to ask so many questions?" he rolled his eyes.

"Yes, because you have this zoned-out look in your eye."

"I do not!"

He perhaps had a very vivid dream three days ago. One he, up to this point, thought had hidden rather well.

"Yes you do and if the Red Riding Hood had asked more questions maybe she would not be eaten."

"What if she wanted to be eaten?"

Even in the dark of the kitchen where the only source of light was the streetlamp outside, he could not miss how you squeezed your thighs closer. He licked his lips once more.

"No one wants to be eaten," you grumbled, peering anywhere but him.

"Get your ass over," Yoongi grabbed your hand and pulled you closer. You began to stare at the ceiling.

"I want to show you something."

Not even a bomb could distract him from the fact that your eyes peered downward, for a millisecond but they did.

"Not that, you pervert," he snickered.

To say that it was mind-boggling to sit in between Yoongi's legs was an understatement. Everywhere you turn, you look or smell, he's just there, like a wall. A very sturdy, warm wall. Or perhaps a blanket. He had wrenched you in between his legs as you both sat and listened to his new tracks. The mystery of his daily appearances had been solved, he was still working, renting out a small space, three streets away and creating his own private little studio. You try to listen, you really do but his arms were flexing right beside you and his fingers were gently but skillfully gliding over the keyboard. And he had interrupted the now daily pleasuring session. It put you to sleep and it eased the nerves that gathered during the day. You may have gotten used to their presence, but not to them always fondling you, especially Jimin and even more so Yoongi. He'd gotten brazen, ever since Jae first appeared. In your own private dreams, you had the delusion to think that maybe he was flirting with you. More often than not he would just stare at you, sometimes looking away when caught, blushing and giggling shyly to himself, other times meeting your gaze full-on with a fuckboy-ish smile.

It was just weird.

"Hey, are you listening?" he nudged your shoulder with his nose, still typing and adjusting something on the equalizer. You had about the same gathering they did when you talked about cornice.

"Uh uh," you were intently following his middle finger stroking down the edge of the laptop.

"I could have sworn you were instead thinking of all those fun times you have with yourself here," his voice dropped down by an octave, not even really sounding like himself while your stomach lurched.

Mortified, you pretend to not understand what he was talking about, trying to not at all weigh on the fact that his arms, shockingly muscular arms, were squeezing you tighter. Or that his breath was in your nape. Or that he was in fact real. Maybe he wasn't. Maybe you were having a dream too good.

"And what would those be?" you snapped but your voice was breathless.

"You should really invest in a quieter vibrator if you want to keep it subtle."

He laughs, not exactly mocking but it does make you shiver.

"Every night as well! Me and the boys can hardly get any sleep."

It should gross you out but it doesn't that they had been listening. The embarrassment of it all of course tells you to toss yourself off the bridge, how were you supposed to look them in the eyes afterwards, but the more frivolous part of yourself is over the moon. These remarks make you feel something you never thought was possible - desired.

"Oh, shut up," you grumble, adjusting the silky nightgown.

It had been an impulse purchase, something to remind yourself once in a while that you were not a formless, putrid blob. Your mind was so loud it was hard to connect it to your body. It was perhaps silly and juvenile to do such a thing through sleepwear but now basking in someone's touch and attention it was more than successful. You felt like you were about to erupt, every touch and every graze reeled you in and out of reality.

"Why? Can't wait to get back to it?"

Yoongi toyed with the strap of your gown and you can barely remember how to breathe.

"Why are you doing that for?" you squeaked.

"Because I want you," he replied like it's easy, like it doesn't just cause your brain to explode. "Do you want me?"

You keep quiet, eyes somewhat squeezed shut. It's not horrifying but it is scary. What are you supposed to say? You hope Yoongi after all this time is not the type to lead you on as a joke, or just because you could but you never met someone who didn't do that. Most of the time you weren't even an option, let alone second or the third or the tenth and it had not bothered you because you hadn't wanted anyone. Before them, at least.

And it was them not just Yoongi.

Images of Hoseok pinning you to the wall, kissing you like he's starved, like was going crazy about not kissing you invade your mind. You well remember the heartache it caused and also the conversation. About asking. Was this Yoongi...asking?

He gently spins you around and you come face to face with his sombre expression. Fuck, he was asking. But you still don't know what to say. Hoseok said that you wouldn't be thinking, really thinking, what it meant being with them. And you weren't. It was hard to think when it all felt like a fever dream.

"Do you want me, baby? The same way I want you?"

You lick your lips and his eyes instantaneously focus there. He even seemed to be shaking, his hands on your shoulders definitely were.

"Don't overthink it, but be certain. If you don't want me, I'll go."

You skim him over. He's good looking of course but that's a little factor, a mere footnote, he was just...comfort. Even now, wearing an oversized shirt and sweats, he looks cosy, like he belongs here, there's no gap of him, the star and the idol and you, the mere mortal with your own mountain of trobles.

"I do want you," you say, squeezing your eyes shut. It was easier to say these things in the dark. "But I don't know how you want me..."

He throws his head back and lets a deep, throaty laugh, hands coming up to squeeze your sides. You shudder violently.

"Is it really not that obvious? Have we been not fawning over you enough?"

He gently noses at your neck and you lean back allowing the small space where he can lay a series of gentle pecks against your thrumming pulse.

Everything of you was rapidly going into overdrive.

Holy shit, holy shit, this is real, you're not dreaming this is real! Wait, you hadn't shaved! Wait, maybe your breath stinks! You still have that rough patch of skin around your knees! You need to shower, you need to shave, you need to get ready! Does he have a condom? Will he fit? Does your vagina even look like how it should?

Yoongi sensing your tensed shoulder leans back, gently massaging them.

"You're overthinking," he mutters, "don't."

"I have anxiety, this is the only thinking I do," you growl back at him and immediately feel a harsh slap on your ass.

Your eyes shot open and you find a mischievously giggling Yoongi staring back at you, smile so wide, his gums show.

"Did you...did you just spank me?" you ask, stunned.

Still snickering, he dares to shrug.

"It'll distract you."

Half joking, you wrap your hand around his neck. Feeling how his heart is threatening to rip out of his system. He blushes bright red but otherwise seems happy.

"You don't know how to choke someone."

"Maybe the intent is not sexual," you threaten.

Quickly he grabs your fingers into his, holding them still and wraps his free hand around your neck. His long fingers wrapping around with ease, noticeable but not overbearing. You stop moving, struggling to breathe from the excitement. Thoughts form and pass by without the capability to stick because - holy shit!

You sit in his lap, the faint sound of his newest tracks still playing in the background, forgotten for now and the room settles with a newfound intimacy of just being close to each, taking in the actuality of the scene.

"If you want to stop, if you feel uncomfortable, say so or tap my shoulder, clonk me on the head, okay? This is about you and what you want."

"That seems slightly unfair," you murmur, caressing his hand absent-mindedly. He shivers.

"I just want to make you feel good. We all want to."

It's the sincerity in his words that makes your shoulders slump back. You relax as best as you could.

"That's a nice start, you're doing very good," he purrs and begins to leave a series of warm kisses against the column of your throat, occasionally biting on the skin, though his palm stays wrapped around your throat. It makes you tremble.

"I thought hickeys are..." your breath hitches, "are...a teenager thing."

"Don't care," he whispers, running his teeth against the soft flesh, "he marked you purple, so will I."

It seems like no passage of time will make them less salty about Jae.

Once he's satisfied meaning your neck looks like you've been chewed by a pack of boars, Yoongi tugs you upward, hands still kneading any knots of your shoulders, releasing any lingering tension.

You might just black out from pure anticipation alone.

As you lean back on the bed, shivering in the cold air, Yoongi stands over you, eyes as dark as the night, seemingly content to just keep watching.

"Stop staring," you murmur, self-consciously, covering your chest with your arms. Your skin feels feverish and you have to squeeze your thighs to lessen the rampaging need for someone to do something. Anything.

"How can I?" he retorts, quickly crawling on top of you. "When you look like a fucking dream."

Oh, he was a menace.

"Quit saying such things," you hide your face in the pillow.

"What that you are gorgeous?" he repeats innocently, kissing your collarbone while his fingers flutter across your inner thigh. "That you're a dream come true? That if I would have my way, you'd be in this bed for days?"

His finger lightly teases your entrance.

"You're so smart, baby, so, so smart but in some areas, you're really not getting some things."

He begins to kiss down your stomach, and even with the nightgown in the way, you can feel everything. You were having a fever, he was putting you in medical condition from all of this.

"So we're just going to make you do some affirmations, alright?"

His hands reached to grab around your ankles as he pushed your thighs open. You stare at the ceiling, unable to breathe or think, just wondering somewhere in a distant brain cortex whether one could die from teasing.

Kissing up each of your thighs, lingering a tad longer on the stretch marks and imperfections, he finally breached the pregnant silence with a guttural growl.

"Question time, baby. What do I love about you?"

"I-I don't know."

He smacks your thigh, the flesh jiggling from the impact.

"My legs!"

"Correct. What else?"

Your mind is coming up blank when his breath ghosts over your cunt.

Giving another hint, his arm reaches to squeeze your nipple.

"My breasts!"

"Correct. What do I want more than anything right now?"

He dives in with a bold lick, teasing your clit.

Your blood reaches a new boiling point.

"Me," you gasp and he hums in agreement. All of which you can feel. It's not long before your thighs begin to shake and attempt to close and the familiar coil begins to wind up in the pit of your stomach. He keeps them open, fingers digging into your flesh while he eats you out like there wasn't anything on heaven or earth that could compare.

Tears begin to collect in the corners of your eyes as you start to shiver violently all while trying not to make a sound.

If they all liked you, which both Yoongi and Hoseok had implied, wouldn't they feel betrayed?

As if sensing your inner turmoil, Yoongi briefly retreats for a breath.

"Keep singing, baby," he insists, smacking your thigh again. "So that everyone can hear you. Namjoon, those stupid neighbours in 38."

Apartment 38 and Yoongi had been having beef for some time now. Something about wrong mail in the wrong mailbox. You couldn't give less of a shit.

"Why Namjoon sp-specifically?" you tug at his hair and he grunts appreciatively.

"He's probably suffering right now, all blue-balled. He's been the horniest out of us all."

That...honestly wasn't as surprising.

Something digs in your back and you whine in pain. Yoongi is quick to look up, sobering slightly at the sound.

"You want to stop? Everything alright?"

Trying to ignore the embarrassing feeling of him just seeing you bare, you dig for the offending object. To your neverending mortification, it is your purple rabbit vibrator.

Yoongi laughs loudly when seeing it.

"Hello, nemesis. I've been wanting to see this thing for quite the while."

He grabs it out of your hand and to your horror, turns it on. The sound is indeed loud.

"It's like a whole truck," he giggles. "And it matches your hair as well!"

"Would you shut the fuck up," you hiss fake crying and then jolt upright as without warning Yoongi pushes it up against your clit. The sound alone had ramped up your nerves to a thousand and you feel that damning sensation of needing something in you as your pussy clenches around nothing.

"You got so wet," he remarks continuing to greedily eat you out, circling the vibrator around your clit. Your back arches and no matter how hard you try, you can't stop making sound. Moaning, whimpering, begging to stop or to continue, it's getting harder to tell.

"Another question, baby," he growls, turning the vibrator to the highest setting. You scream louder, trashing around, all mind and worry escaping.

"Who do you belong to?"

"You! Please don't stop!"

"Say that again."

"I'm yours! Just, please -"

"And who am I?"

You frown in confusion but after a quick slap on the thigh, you dare to say the unimaginable.

"You're mine," you gasp, one stray tear rolling past your temple. "You're mine."

"That's right and don't you forget it."

If Yoongi feels any pain from your attempts to rip the hair out of his head, he doesn't voice it and for a moment all world disappears as that coil in the pit of your stomach rips open. When you come from your high, Yoongi softly pecks at your thighs, casting the vibrator aside.

There's a suspicious bang coming from the other side of the wall and you remember that Jin was sleeping just there. He must have heard, there's was no way he couldn't have but still shivering from the pleasure, it's hard to care for it.

"You did so well, baby, so, so well," he praises crawling away from your lower half and wiping the stray tear. "Do you want to continue?"

You nod mutely, nuzzling already boneless into his arm.

There's no way no one is unaware of what's happening, definitely not when Yoongi has to reach up to the headboard to get the proper angle and it pounds repeatedly against the wall. Or when he hoisted you on top of him, laying his sweaty forehead in the crook of your neck and muttering incoherently how much he adored you, while he palmed your breasts and when subsequently the bed broke and you both rolled onto the floor. It didn't deter anyone. In between sloppy kisses, thrusting so deep you could swear you could feel him in your throat, he opened his mouth to say something, something important, to say that, but you smacked a hand over his lips.

"Don't-don't say it, I'm-I'm not ready for that."

His eyes briefly widened but he understood and nodded along.

When you both came, sticky and covered in sweat, panting and shivering, he whispered in your ear.

"Still, you know that I do. We all do."

You sniffled lightly, overstimulated and emotional. No matter how hard you tried that simple truth was rather hard to grasp. He moved to lay next to you, trembling from the cold seeping off the floor.

"When...when did you start?"

Yoongi sighed with all the weariness in the world.

"Longer than you think. Before we met, really."

You peeked up to his relaxed face, while he leisurely carded his fingers through your hair.

"How is that possible? You can't love someone you've never met."

"Sure you can. If they're your soulmate. Now shut up and go to sleep."

previous ⟷ next

me, dropping this beast of a mess after a long ass time

so, the promised trivia about this universe:

1. 134340 was released as a single in 2019 and not in LY album

2. ARMY was convinced that the boys will disband in 2018 bc it was really apparent how bad their relationship was this year. 2019 started really messy because they were supposed to disband but instead they picked up the tour where they left it off starting with Japan in January 12, 2019

3. Because of the whole situation with Yoongi, Hoseok is so hesitant with MC, he once saw how bad he could mess things up so he's scared that it'll happen again

4. Namjoon saw MC in UN on September 24th and Yoongi saw her in FCO Airport in Rome on October 18th, 2018. She was just accepted late into the interior design program hence why they met. As for how did Yoongi even ended up there, let's just say fate lol

5. I know that irl Yoongi didn't solely create 134340 but in this AU the lyrics really fit with his storyline (and it's one of my faves), so here it is more of his song

6. Yes, literally everyone but MC has gone to therapy lmao

© sor-vette, 2022

[girlwithwolftatoo]

Heyyyyyyy- I don't know if you still take requests but, ok this is a little awkward so bear with me (you don't have to do it, it's just a thought)

Arthur Harrow x female reader

Readers on her period and he doesn't know until she picks him up from the psych ward and she accidentally bleeds in his (at least I think it's his) limo. She is extremely embarrassed but he's a sweetheart about it!

Idk if you feel comfortable writing this so no worries if you don't want to- it's just a nice comforting story rn.

This is a completely risky request; it was so nerve wracking to try and send this!!

thx

Well, the limo belongs to Jake but- I think we can fix that and keep going with your main idea!

(I choose to write this as a drabble because I felt it was more accurate).

A sigh of relief left your lips when you both got into the cab. Luckily the driver didn't mention anything about Arthur's clothing, and in fact, didn't make any question besides your destination.

"We'll be fine now" you murmured, giving Arthur a kind, warm look. He smiled, he had missed that face of yours so much it felt like a blessed dream. Then, your eyebrows knitted together.

"Is everything alright?" he asked in soft voice, to not alert the driver.

"Yes, yes, I just... It's nothing" you replied, struggling during the rest of the trip against the flashing pain within your guts. Yes, it had to be precisely that day, right? The only bloody day you couldn't have any mistake nor setback. Anyways, you breathed in and out a couple of times, still smiling to not worry Harrow. He didn't need that shit either, not now he had recovered his freedom.

When the cab arrived to your place, you paid the man and helped Arthur to climb the stairs. It was something you used to do in other times, when the cult (not cult, that word was dirty, it was a healthy, loving community of people who searched for peace) existed; in that time, Arthur seemed so hieratic and calmed, but he hid a disturbing secret, one you learned when you earned his trust. And now, you couldn't help but stare at his feet, as if you still cound hear the mumbled sound of broken glass.

"Thank you, (Y/N)" Arthur gave you a sof pat on your shoulder "Though I feel like you're the one in need today"

"Please, don't. Don't worry about me, Arthur" you both entered to your flat, and the man gave it a quick look.

"So, here is where you live now..."

"Yes. The commune has... well, disolved. I'm very sorry" you stared nostalgic at the little shelf across the living room. You managed to rescue some of Harrow's belongings before the diaspora, mostly small egyptian statues he had displayed in the attic from the London commune.

"Do not feel sad for those who left. We cannot control the destiny of humankind" Arthur pointed before approaching the shelf. And then, another sharp pain hit you, and you hunched embracing your tummy.

"Damn!"

"(Y/N)!" the man went towards you, holding you by the shoulders with great care "What's happening?"

You noticed the leak between your thighs, and your eyes went wide in realization and shame. Still, the cramp pain held you in that awful position for some more seconds.

"I just... please, get me into the bathroom" you pleaded, and the man helped you to reach it.

You couldn't see it, but Arthur's eyes suddenly shone in a quick, violet light that only lasted a second perhaps.

"(Y/N), are you having...?" he didn't want to make you more uncomfortable. You cocked your head, embarrased.

"I'm sorry"

"Why? It's not a big deal, I mean... it's perfectly natural, don't be ashamed of yourself. Come in" Arthur opened the bathroom door for you "Can I help you with something else?"

"I... I think I'll need some tea... It's in the cupboard, in a wooden box"

"Very well then. If you need anything, please... you can tell me"

You closed the door to take care a little of yourself. Of course you couldn't stare with the dirty clothes, so you removed them and tried to clean a little your underwear under the sink water. You took a towel and wrapped your hips with it so you could get into your room and have a proper change. You didn't like pads, but they were good for that sort of emergencies, specially since your period tended to appear in different dates so you couldn't track it. When you were done, Arthur turned off the stove, and poured the warm water in a cup.

"I think you should rest today" he recomended, handing you the cup.

"No, I'm fine-"

"You've already done a lot today, (Y/N). You took a big risk by taking me out of that place and perhaps you still don't know how big, so..."

Like if you were a little child, Arthur helped you to lay on the couch. He took a pillow and slid it under your lower back, and the sensation of something fluffy was surprisingly soothing for the cramps. You rested the cup right over your tummy and sighed.

"You still do so much for me..." you chuckled. Arthur sat on the other couch and extended one arm to caress your forehead. Your eyes went shut, the slightest touch of your beloved, praised Harrow was something you craved for everyday since you joined his community, and now, it was all yours.

Of course your hormones were playing dirty with you, and some tears shone in the corner of your eyes.

"Why crying, my dearest?" he murmured, almost purring. You rushed to rub your eyes.

"Forgive me, I... it's just I missed you"

Arthur's hand cupped your cheek, and you covered it with your own hand.

"I love you" you said without thinking, without waiting he could see the true meaning behind those words. But he shivered. He always received that kind of words, when he was a leader of something, when there were people following. Now, listening the same words when he was weak and abandoned... yeah, it felt real now.

His hand held onto yours with a soft squeeze, and you saw in his eyes the purest look of affection. The one you longed for, and then you thought there were no need of more followers or goddesses to worship. Just you and him, and a second chance to be happy.

[heloflor]

A few random thoughts/comments after finally reading the Sam and Max comics (Surfin’ the Highway + “The Big Sleep”) :

- I absolutely love how, whenever they’re in town or in an open place, there’s stuff happening in the background. Random details like that don’t really have any purpose in the story but they make the world feel so much more alive !

- I’m really fond of the way Purcell draws Sam for some reason. Idk, his face is just pleasant to look at.

- Max is getting the Pikachu treatment, looking chubby/chonky in the first interpretation of the character only to look thinner later on.

- It’s very interesting to see how the first “official” Sam and Max comic, “Monkeys Violating the Heavenly Temple”, introduces so many moments that became recurring things (“Sam, I mean Max”, Max being the one who needs saving, Max not being into girls, “you crack me up little buddy”, the fight for the phone, Sam’s long-ass “holy-“ lines, Sam being overprotective, Sam finding Max cute etc)

- It’s also interesting to see “Bad Day on the Moon” in comic form and the few differences with the cartoon version.

- I love how everytime they walk to their office door, they check on Flint Paper. Also Max mentioning how Flint probably wasn’t hugged enough 🥺

- I need an entire series of Sam and Max going on a road trip ! Not only can we have small adventures with new environments and characters, there’s also their cute interactions in the car !

- It’s funny to see places and characters you know are going to come back later on in the franchise, like the carnival from “Hit the Road”.

- I kinda like the random intermission in the long comics, though it feels like a random commercial that’s somehow relevant to the comic. Also that page about the board game to play in a car trip with the advice of “if you don’t have dice, just look at the last number of the plaque from the next car that’s coming” is absolutely genius.

- There’s SO MUCH TOUCHING between the two, especially on Sam’s end ! Like, dude can’t keep his hands away from his bunny ! Ok I may be exaggerating here but still ! So much touching ! And between that and other small moments, it makes me low-key question if they were already boyfriends back then 🤔

(I swear “Purcell wanted to create goofy stories with a fun duo but ended up accidentally creating an amazing and healthy gay relationships with pretty good rep overall and ultimately decided to just accept it and roll with it” is my second favorite thing about this franchise)

- Speaking of which, there’s that one moment in the second road-trip comic in which Sam uses Max as a weapon and then immediately asks Max if what he did was alright or if it bothered Max. And I absolutely adore that.

I think it’s due to the fact that, usually, Sam and Max are on the same wavelength and know each other’s boundaries and likes/dislikes. So it’s interesting to “come back to a time” where they still had to understand those boundaries. I also love how asking this is literally the first thing Sam does, showing that there’s really good communication between the two, which could also explain why in later entries they understand each other so well.

(and sure, I know moments like this one happened in other entries of the franchise, like for example Sam in 301 telling Max he's uncomfortable at the idea of Max teleporting alone, but for some reason this panel really stuck with me)

- The office each time having different framed pictures of the duo like in the cartoon 💖

- As someone who loves when anthropomorphic characters behave more like animals, I am so happy that the comics mention Sam smelling stuff a lot and especially Max having good hearing at least once ! Because this is something I really liked to think about, so it’s nice actually getting to see it being mentioned in canon !

Also there’s that one page (I think in “Bad Day on the Moon” ?) where Sam straight-up bites someone and then gets weirded out by his own action. That was fucking amazing.

- Apparently one of Sam’s favorite things during missions is cornering the villain and telling them to freeze with his gun pointed at them. For some reason I really like that fact.

- The comic about the cereal aisle monster has some pretty good action and a cool monster design. Also apparently Max already had weird powers back then with him being able to communicate with the dead.

Also also Max at the end helping a kid while casually talking to Sam was really cute. Fun fact : Max having baby fever and loving kids is my favorite thing about him, especially due to how much it clashes with his usual “wilder” personality (And for those wondering, my favorite thing about Sam is him being protective and going apeshit when Max is in danger).

Also also also it’s pretty funny to see Sam disliking physical contact from the shopkeeper given how touchy he is with Max in those comics.

- There’s a one-page comic about a lady talking about aliens with Sam not buying any of it, and one of the panels is Sam with a glass of water in hand saying “Lady, I’m this close to pouring my drink on you” while looking completely done with this shit. Hands down my favorite comic panel of all the Sam and Max comics.

(Btw, my second-favorite panel is from the first comic, after Max was kidnapped, when Sam is spitting on a portrait of the villain while pointing out how he’s going to destroy him if he took a single hair off of his precious bunny)

- It’s pretty funny how the comics suddenly start having colors at some point out of the blue, like someone randomly gifted Purcell a box of colored pencils. Though, I don’t know what I like most between the black-and-white or the colored comics. On one hand, the colors add to the background. On the other hand, the black-and-white gave a style that’s pretty fitting with the titular characters being detectives/police.

Ultimately, I think I like the black-and-white more, not just because of the style but also because like half of the stories in color are AU stuff (“The Adventurer” comics) while the black-and-white ones are more “grounded” stories.

Yeah, most of the time, I’m not the biggest fan of AUs. I know, pretty surprising for someone whose first fandom was Unde//rtale of all things.

And yes I learned later on that the first comics actually came out in a colored version. That being said I do like the black-and-white version more since, again, it gives them a “detectives” vibe.

- Sam really has a thing for twin popsicles, doesn’t he ?

- Some comics, especially the ones in color, have a few small “mean-spirited” moments between the duo, especially on Sam’s end, and it feels weird to see them like that. Like when one says “shut up” to the other, when Max does something cruel and Sam points it out by actually calling him cruel instead of cute, or when Sam jokingly threatening to hurt Max for being annoying, including the “killing Max and being sent to heaven” comic.

Now I know those jokes also exist in the rest of the franchise, like for example the “I wanna write a reminder to smother you with a pillow in your sleep” from the first Telltale game or the “shut up it’s starting !” from the cartoon, or even some moments in “Hit The Road” like when you rescue Max at the golf game. But for some reason, the ones in the comic stand out more to me.

I think it might be due to the duo dynamic they have and how much more openly affectionate they are in the games and cartoon, making those “I’m going to hurt you” jokes feel insignificant. 🤔

- There’s a comic about Atlantis that opens up with Sam mentioning how he “never dated within my gender” and I don’t know what surprises me the most between Sam unironically saying this, as if open to the idea, or the fact that they used the word “gender” in a comic form the 90s. In any cases, I like it.

(Also I guess this means Sam and Max weren’t together back then ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Unless you picture the comics as taking place out of order, which I might do considering that one Christmas comic with the duo living in a house and having a family dinner. Plus this could explain the “mean-spirited” stuff only being in some comics. Also the cereal aisle comic has a guy from the cartoon + Max having powers, so I could see it taking place around the time of the cartoon, after the Telltale games)

- Sam with abs from that one biker comic is cursed. Chubby Sam with “uncool 40 years-old dad” energy is best Sam.

- And from that same comic, Max gets a tattoo on his right arm. Headcanon that he still has it but it’s hidden under his fur, hence why it’s never visible.

- I love how “The Adventurer Comics”, “The Big Sleep” and the first page of the unfinished comic are just casually available to read on the official Sam and Max website.

- “The Big Sleep” was apparently written around the time of “Save The World”, and I feel like you can kinda see it from the way Max looks in this comic. They removed the chonk in favor of a rounder stomach that resembles his 3D model.

Also I really like how this comic has Sam in danger and Max trying to save him, with Max’s last line of the comic showing some protectiveness. Given how rare it can be at times, I like when they switch around which one needs saving.

Also also this comic has Max calling some guy gay and later on almost saying “piece of shit”. I love it.

Also also also, there’s a cameo of granny Ruth as part of Sam’s memories !!! (along with a picture of Max because of course 💖)

Last thing, since earlier I mentioned the “mean-spirited” moments : this one shows my point by having Sam mentioning bashing Max in the head to help him calm down, with Max reacting by saying “aww, you spoil me !” This is the kind of instance where a joke is actually not mean-spirited because there’s something immediately afterwards showing that Max is enjoying the thought, while in the older comics, it’s just Sam mentioning hurting Max without Max commenting on it, which gives off this “mean-spirited” side.

- There are at least two comics that I’m missing, or at least two that I’m assuming are official. Given how the franchise started with Purcell drawing after his brother’s stories, I’m pretty sure there’s a lot out there that was never published (for those asking, yes I stumbled across some of the earliest versions of those characters from back when Purcell was messing with his brother’s work).

But yeah, from what I know, one of the missing two has a page with Sam and Max pushing n*zis off a cliff, and the second one has a joke about Sam asking Max to remove what he’s wearing and Max refusing, with I think some kind of stereotypical tribe behind them ?

- Thinking about it, I’ve seen people talk about how trigger-happy Sam and Max are in the comics compared to the rest of the franchise, with them being toned down due to age rating. But tbh, I didn’t find them that trigger-happy in the comics, at least not more than the games. They felt pretty on-par with how they act in “Hit The Road” specifically. Might be just me tho 🤔

- Overall, I’d say my favorite comic is “The Big Sleep” due to the whole “Max saving Sam” situation. But more than that, I especially adore how evident it is that Max absolutely loves Sam without outright saying it. It’s shown very well with how worried Max gets, the fact that he greatly compliments the doctor at some point or even the way he decides by himself to investigate the phone because he feels uneasy about the bug and wants to find out what happened to Sam.

This comic aside, the road trip trilogy is a close second and I especially enjoy the moments with the duo in the car, like Sam telling Max a creepy story or them sleeping while still having the car on, etc. I’d probably put the very first official comic as third, mostly for how many recurring things this comic sets up + the usual “Sam saving Max” being nice to see. And the unfinished “Max getting shot” comic would be fourth, because angst is my jam.

[tanoraqui]

There actually are enough good fics about postcanon tentative reforging of assorted pairs and even the whole of the Gusu Summer School No Brain Cell Trio to satisfy my niche itch, so pls enjoy these stray snippets of a fic I don't have to write:

Nothing would've happened if the cultivation conference wasn't at Cloud Recesses. But it was, Cloud Recesses with its pale stone and gracefully winding walkways and too many memories, including Lan Xichen sitting the whole thing out in seclusion somewhere... If it'd been at the Unclean Realm, Nie Huaisang would've been busy and if it'd been at Carp Tower the memories only would've been manageably bad, and if it was Lotus Pier or one of many smaller sects, it would've been...fine. Just fine.

But it was Cloud Recesses this year, this first conference since Jin Guangyao's downfall, and specifically it was half past ten at night, and Nie Huaisang was wandering the elegant pathways with a mostly full jar of wine in one hand. The previous jar, now entirely empty, had been left back in his room. He was a Nie, so he was only half as drunk as he'd always used to pretend at these things - but at least twice as drunk as he'd ever actually been.

After da-ge's death, of course. Before that, he used to get plenty drunk. Playfully drunk. With friends.

It would be a terrible idea for him to go appear on Lan Xichen's doorstep. Neither of them was ready for that yet.

So he appeared on Jiang Cheng's.

[ . . . ]

"Fine." Nie Huaisang pouted and turned. "I'll go ask Wei-xiong - "

And Jiang Cheng was easy, he was so easy, he'd always been easy, the only new thing is the faintest edge of wariness to his fury -

He grabbed Nie Huaisang's elbow in a flash and snapped, "Ugh, fine, I'll go - but I'm holding the wine."

Nie Huaisang laughed and handed it over. Jiang Cheng immediately took a deep swig.

[ . . . ]

It must've been a quiet night at the Jingshi. Wei Wuxian's sleeping robes didn't look the least bit hastily pulled on, and his lips were only the slightest bit red and puffy.

[ . . . ]

[for the record, this takes place in a book-show postcanon fusion wherein immediately post-Guanyin Temple, WWX and LWJ ran off to fuck in the bushes at least once a day for as long as possible, but in their absence, various sect leaders voted that Lan Wangji should be Chief Cultivator now, and alas some messenger caught up with them about six months into their honeymoon. Definitely caught them in flagrante delicto. Tragic for all. I’d probably communicate all this hereish somehow. It was definitely NHS who finally tipped someone off on how to actually find them.]

[ . . . ]

"Yes, yes, I'm coming," Wei Wuxian said, with a lidded look at Nie Huaisang, and Nie Huaisang burst into a giggles because the two most unequivocally lethal people he knew were afraid to leave each other alone with him, and it was satisfying to be recognized but also what's he going to do, personally? Cry at them? It'd taken him years to destroy Jin Guangyao, and at this point it'd take him months, if not years again to re-destroy the Yiling Patriarch, much less Sandu Shengshou. Especially when they both kept doing things like watching each others backs while pretending they weren't.

[ . . . ]

"Of course we need more!" Wei Wuxian declared. "This isn't even Emperor's Smile!"

[ . . . ]

"It's just a rat or something," Jiang Cheng scoffed.

"So?!" Wei Wuxian cried grandly. "Are we not noble cultivators? Is it not our duty to investigate this woman's complaint, and to slay whatever monster plagues her good inn’s wonderful cellar, whether deathly or monstrous or rodential it be?" He turned to Nie Huaisang and begged, "Help me out, Nie-xiong. You agree with me, right?"

Nie Huaisang clutched his cup against his chest, eyes wide, and shook his head in sharp jerks. "I don't know! I don't know!"

Wei Wuxian laughed and elbowed him in the side.

[ . . . ]

[while waiting for Wei Wuxian to send some sort of signal]

"You know I don't bear any grudge against Jin Ling, right?"

Jiang Cheng's impatient glare snapped to him, darkening with threat; his hand shifted on Sandu's hilt toward a drawing position. "What?"

"I don't bear any sort of grudge against Jin Ling," Nie Huaisang repeated, holding only the last jar of Emperor's Smile. "That's why you've been side-eyeing me all night, right? All conference." He took another sip (it really was the best!) and added recklessly, "If I wanted Jin Ling dead and disgraced, or all Carp Tower burned to ash, they already would be."

Sandu slid an inch out of its scabbard and Nie Huaisang watch it with fascinated curiosity. From a greater distance, he wondered if that was entirely healthy.

"What about Lotus Pier?" Jiang Cheng asked abruptly.

It took Nie Huaisang a blinking moment to focus on him.

"What about Lotus Pier?"

Jiang Cheng sat beside him on the cold earth and yanked the jar out of his hands, cruelly before Nie Huaisang could take another sip.

"Where's your grand terrible vengeance against me and mine? I get it, but if you're being honest for once right now, you could at least tell me when it's going to hit, and how."

"What?" Nie Huaisang pushed himself against his tree trunk, genuinely confused. "Why would i have a terrible vengeance planned against you?"

"I benefitted from Nie Mingjue's death, didn't I?" Jiang Cheng took another swig of wine of his own, and swung the jar illustratively. "My disciples have hunted in your territory while you 'weren't paying attention.' I absolutely fleeced you in that trade deal four years ago. And I worked with that bastard as much as anyone but Lan Xichen, especially on those damn watchtowers, and you broke him. So when's it my turn?" He pointed at Nie Huaisang, finger only wavering slightly. “If you fuck with Jin Ling, Wei Wuxian, or my sect, I will fuck you back.”

"You- oh, gimme that. Gimme. Gimme!" Nie Huaisang leaned forward and tried to grab the wine jar, and more importantly whined until Jiang Cheng handed it to him.

He stared at it for a moment, thrust it back and ordered, “Drink,” without letting it go, and once Jiang Cheng had dutifully tilted it back, pulled it back and slugged down the last swallows. He needed more alcohol for this much honesty, and so did Jiang Cheng.

He set the jar down very carefully, because the ground seemed to be moving, and leaned forward with even more care. He enunciated clearly, “Everyone fleeced me, and hunted in my territory, and I acsh- ass- let them. Why would I expect you to go looking for trouble with Jin Guangyao, when he had your heart locked in a box in his treasure room?”

Jiang Cheng, who was a respected master of all five arts but probably hadn’t actually read poetry for fun since an instructor had officially declared him as such, and who was himself at least a full wine jar in, squinted in angry confusion.

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes. “He had final say over where and how Jin Ling spent his time, and could’ve tried to poison him against you. What would you have even have done if I had come complaining?”

Jiang Cheng’s face only fell further, with the very sort of drunken moroseness Nie Huaisang was out here to avoid.

Nie Huaisang attempted to swap him sharply. He failed on both the swap and the sharpness. 

“Stoppit! Stop thinking you’re not useful! You weren’t! I needed to pry er-ge away from him and for that only Lan Wangji would work, and I needed someone to watch his back through thick and deadly thin, and to be so disruptive that even Meng Yao couldn’t...circle, sneaky, planning...”

They were waiting for the pulse of a light talisman from the other tunnel entrance, half a mile away. There was a small but very bright explosion. laced with resentful as well as spiritual energy.

“Motherfucker!” Jiang Cheng cursed, leaping to his feet and drawing Sandu in one hideously coordinated motion. 

“Just Lan Wangji, I think,” Nie Huaisang said, because Nie Mingjue himself couldn’t have stopped him. He groped for his own weapons - fan, check; wine jar - 

“Oh no!” 

“What?”  Jiang Cheng snapped, as he bent and dragged Nie Huaisang to his feet with one hand. (Hideously coordinated. Sword people, honestly...)

“He’s going to be so mad that we finished the wine without him!”

[ . . . ]

[three grown-ass men, two sect leaders and one Yiling Patriarch, flying at high speed through Caiyi Town on one sword, all screaming. Nie Huaisang is clinging to Wei Wuxian; Wei Wuxian is flinging to Jiang Cheng, a little bit to Nie Huaisang, and most importantly to a chicken, Jiang Cheng is flying the sword. There is a bedsheet draped over all of them from where they ran into a laundry line. It’s 2am. Again I say, all are screaming]

[ . . . ]

[it probably wasn’t a rat - not just one, at least. Wei Wuxian does something incredibly clever, possibly including a creative use of that bedsheet; Jiang Cheng singlehandedly defeats something in combat, probably after he and Wei Wuxian shove each other out of the way of blows without either of them acknowledging it. Nie Huaisang shoves them both under cover and then with perfect professionalism tells whoever came to check on the ruckus that they handled the problem exactly as planned with absolutely no involvement of alcohol, and the Chief Cultivator will foot the bill for the unfortunately absolutely necessary property damage. Overall, they did handle the problem, but the local cryptid they were chasing will only have its reputation swelled and its continued existence assumed by all locals. it is possible that they themselves made this cryptid up two decades ago, but idk how heavy-handed we want to be.]

[ . . . ]

Nie Huaisang was leaning heavily on Wei Wuxian by the time they got back to the guest quarters. He could hold his alcohol, he was a goddamn Nie, and frankly he’d had it adrenalined out of him at least twice this evening. But he’d also had rather a lot, and he didn’t have Jiang Cheng’s golden core or Wei Wuxian’s blithe lack of sleep schedule. 

“I missed this,” he admitted, head on Wei Wuxian’s (Mo Xuanyu’s) shoulder while Jiang Cheng opened the door.

Wei Wuxian leaned his head on Nie Huaisang’s. “Me too.”

“You’re both fucking annoying,” Jiang Cheng grouched, which meant, Me too.

Wei Wuxian stripped off Nie Huaisang’s muddy outer robe and tucked him into bed, and Jiang Cheng poured a glass of water from the pitcher by the door, drank it, poured another, scowled at Wei Wuxian for a moment, and set it on the bedside table. Wei Wuxian glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, finished with Nie Huaisang and started backing out of the room.

Nie Huaisang sat up more or less abruptly. “Both of you have got to stop that bullshit. I miss my brothers, okay? I’d I had a second chance...” He sagged back down with the plural, and flung an arm over his damp eyes. There was a glimmer in the sky; it’d be morning by Lan standards soon. “I fucking miss them.”

“...Ah,” said Wei Wuxian, who always spoke even when he didn’t know what to say.

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng said abruptly, and, “Drink your fucking water.” And the door slammed behind him as he walked out.

[...a few lines of dialogue later...]

“Seriously, you can go.” Nie Huaisang flicked a few tired fingers in dismissal.

“Are you sure?” Wei Wuxian added with an audible smirk, “Because if I stay up for another half hour, I can wake Lan Zhan with a morning...big ol’...loving...”

Nie Huaisang finally adjusted his arm to crack one eye up at him.

“People usually cut me off before I get that far,” Wei Wuxian admitted.

[ . . . a bit more dialogue and the end.]

[bunny-hoodlum]

Asynchronous With You: Ch 5.5

ship: naruhina

rating: teen (references to much ecchi this chapter)

tags: Modern Day AU, Foster Siblings, Family, Angst, Unrequited Love, Poor Communication

summary: An awkward journey full of self-denial and missed moments between two foster siblings. Perhaps their love will find the right timing someday.

She can't stand herself right now, so she makes him feel like he's the untolerated one

She just wants to be alone.

Between the abandonment from her parents, the fact that she wronged Hanabi and will deserve the worst outcome for it, to the way Naruto skillfully fucks up her emotions without even trying, she just wants it all to stop.

It's all… so itchy.

These events and circumstances, they gravitate to her, they stick to her fly-trap skin and die. And she can't be rid of it.

It's all fated.

Her whole existence is one incurable allergy, and continued exposure will only lead to anaphylaxis.

However, if she closes her eyes and lays very still atop her covers, she can dream of a world where everything is as it should be.

One where her parents cherish her and she and Hanabi are one of the closest sisters you'll ever see.

A world where Neji didn't lose his parents, yet it would still feel like he's always lived with her in the same house.

A world where Naruto had never been orphaned, had grown up secure in the love of his parents so that he didn't have to inebriate himself on his vices.

She just can't stand being his sister, because it makes her feel depraved.

She can't stand all the ways that she wants to compete against those other girls.

She's got the home advantage.

Proximity is everything, or it should be.

She doubts he would hate it if he found the hole had grown bigger. She doubts he would hate testing it out.

She pictures it and pictures it, and it's exciting. Tingles shoot down into her belly, traveling lower and lower.

It's so wrong how much she wants to be claimed.

She knows he wouldn't dare.

She knows he would hate it if the one offering themselves on the other side was her.

She can't stand how she had wanted to be curled against his side on the train ride to Neji, how she wished his voice would tickle her ears again like when they were kids, giving her the reassurance that she needed.

She can't stand how she had conspired with Neji to make Naruto feel off-kilter, like he didn't know her at all, just to hand off this whole cosmic unfairness onto him.

Any effort on her part brings them closer together as foster siblings, so really, could anyone blame her for giving up at this point?

She's starting to feel itchy again.

Hinata sucks in a sharp breath as she wills her legs to work.

She needs to apologize to him.

She wobbles out of her room, then leans against his bedroom door. She knocks against the wood. Her efforts are weak at first, hesitant pauses punctuated between each knock. Then desperation finally takes hold, and her knocking picks up as much volume as intensity.

She knows what she's here to do.

It's not that hard.

But the hushed desires crowding the back of her mind, the clawing need to clear the air and put her anxieties down for good, these make it so hard for her to breathe.

These make her not trust herself to be alone with him.

The door handle rotates, the click hitting her ears like the cocking of a gun hammer.

Her heart seizes in a panic.

He greets her with an affronted frown, then tugs at his earbud wires. Thunderous drums and riotous electric guitars buzzed like industrial wasps from the earbuds. When he hit pause on his phone screen, the absence of noise made their home feel like a cave.

Cold and vast.

"I-I have things to say." Her nose wrinkled with embarrassment.

Naruto stepped away from the door, allowing her passage into his room.

It feels like it's been forever since she's stepped foot in here. The posters were all different, and there was an abundance of them plastered along his walls. To her shame, the ceiling over his bed was also well-decorated with the ripped out pages of Gravure models. They all had different looks, different shapes and sizes.

Did he really have no preference?

As she hovered awkwardly in the middle of his room, he took a seat on his bed and patted the empty spot beside him.

She stared, her skepticism all too open.

"Hinata…" His eyes implored her, but when she would still go no closer to him, he was reminded of a life he had thought long-forgotten, back when he was treated like a germ. He shut his mouth, and buried that pain down deep. He couldn't bring himself to say those words. It felt way too pathetic.

His eyes followed her as she headed for his desk and slid the chair out from it. But then she stood there, staring at it too, like it would infect her.

With a growl, he collapsed onto his bed. "You're not going to sit, you're not going to talk--"

"I am going to talk."

"So talk." He laced his fingers behind his head, staring at her pointedly.

She pushed the chair back, and turned towards him, her hands wringing themselves to the point of splintering bones.

"I'm sorry. Neither of us have had a choice in all of this. The only thing we can choose to do is be better to each other."

His pointed look evolved with a lifted eyebrow. "Yeah, we kind of decided that early on, didn't we? I made sure to get along with Neji, and I protected you. It's what I could do. The bullying you endured didn't just stop for no reason."

"I-I know. And what I'm saying is, I'm the-the one whose g-given up on--" Her stuttering caused him to sit up.

"Hey, Hinata? Hey, hey, hey," He stood up and walked over to her, his hands clasping over her strangled ones. "It's okay. C'mon, it's okay. Try to breathe," he extricated her hands from each other and squeezed each of them in his own, offering her strength. "Breathe. Breathe."

But that shaky breath she took caused a few tears to let loose, and for her to question her purpose here.

When he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her tight, her mouth smashed against his shoulder, the sobs wouldn't stop. The air was like pins in her throat and she felt so, so itchy.

His bedroom was caked in perfume and sex just as she had always imagined, and she wanted to wipe that all away.

"I c,c,can't be a g,good s,s,sister."

She wanted to love him fully.

He stroked her hair and shushed her.

"You'll be an amazing sister. That little brat already loves you. Hell, sometimes I think I won the lottery myself, y'know?"

She wanted to pound her fists against his chest. Instead she clawed the fabric of his lounge hoodie, because she may not be able to hold onto him like this for much longer.

I don't want to be your sister.

I don't want you for a brother.

These are the things she wishes she could say. With every intention of making it up to him, if he would have her.

Before she came here, she needed to gauge how badly he wanted to be part of this family. But now that he went and said something like that… she doesn't have the heart to take this away from him.

"I-I'll do better, Naruto-lun, I,I,I'll do better."

"Geez, you push yourself hard enough, don't you?" He teased.

In the world she dreams up when her eyes are closed, she's able to press her lips to his, all questions erased from both their minds as they melt into the rightness of each other's bodies.

In reality, this is as far as they can go.

AN: I didn't feel comfortable leaving them all passive-aggressive and whatnot, because I no longer like that part of my writing? I think in the past I was fascinated with the whole concept of 'this is what happens when you let things be', but lately it's not all that fascinating, it actually feels pretty dumb. So maybe this is just one of those stories where it's like, 'Yeah, this ain't working for this'. Also, I used to think communication, even if it's healthy, was boring no matter what. Like, 'Easily solved! There is no story!', but lately my mindset on that has evolved and maybe that's because of exposing myself to better stories and media. Anyways, another short one, unfortunately, but I hope you liked it! This chapter has allowed me to go back to advancing the plot with summaries, so I'm quite looking forward to speeding things up. IDK if there is actual NH juiciness up ahead, but we'll see the story allows. 😅 I really had imagined Hinata getting up to more bold 'hint-dropping hijinks' like she did with her shirt, but it seems like it wrote itself out. :( lesigh.

[adira5780]

I'm having a hard idea coming up with an exact point, but I want to talk a bit about my field of expertise. I have a master's degree in history and work in a museum. I know so many people who are leaving the museum field (or who never got in) because it's extremely underfunded so people are overworked and underpaid. Budgets are precarious so most people are working contract to contract because institutions simply can't commit to hiring people permanently. MANY museums have one person doing the work of 3-5 people and they're making little over minimum wage. Burnout is a huge issue.

I hit the jackpot when I snagged a permanent full time position in a museum with a relatively healthy workplace culture. I make just enough to make ends meet and pay my student loans, and that's more than I can say for most of the people my age I know in the museum field.

But people constantly complain that our museum is only open 8 hours a day, six days a week, that we don't offer more public programs, that we don't have more exhibit changes. Meanwhile our budget, which comes from the government, has been status quo for almost a decade. That means we have the same budget now as we did ten years ago, even as the cost of utilities, staff, insurance, everything had increased. My museum is running on what is essentially a skeleton staff. We need 12 more people to have a comfortable distribution of duties and 23 to reach our full potential. (We have 24 permanent staff so we essentially need to double our work force).

People want their museums (and their libraries and art galleries and many other institutions) to offer endless, cutting edge services but they aren't willing to pay a small tax hike to fund them. People honestly think it's perfectly reasonable to expect a museum to expand its services when its budget has essentially been cut every year for a decade.

Museum exhibits and programs don't appear out of thin air. They take weeks, months, sometimes years of research, writing, conservation work, graphic design, and community consultations. Before they even start to be installed! The people behind each of these parts have specialized education and training. And most of them are making a bit over minimum wage if they're lucky.

People work in museums because we're passionate about them, but that doesn't pay the bills! People love their local museums until it's time to fund them. People love to complain about what their museum isn't offering but grumble and groan when a museum tries to fundraise from its community.

Basically if you want cultural institutions in your community you need to support them! If you can't donate, visit! TONS of museum grants are based on the number of feet through the door. If a local museum admission fee is too high for you to access, find out which level of government funds it and write to that representative. (Also see if your museum has days with reduced or free admission or if you can rent a membership from your local library, libraries renting out memberships to museums and galleries is becoming more and more common).

This is a very winding post and idk what I was aiming for but I needed to get it out.

[thedreadvampy]

ok the thing I'm struggling to find words for in my mind tonight is. a deep discomfort with the framing that complex relationships to sexuality and gender are something exclusive to queerness. that cishet people's relationship to sexuality and gender is by definition simple. and that's a tempting idea and like, yeah, there's much less impetus for a cishet person to examine their sexuality and gender. but that doesn't mean there's no complexity to it. and this isn't intended as a Don't Be Mean To The Poor Straights post it's just. observably not true that no cishet person has a complex relationship to sexuality and gender.

queerness is a complicating factor in people's relationship to sexuality and gender - we are made more conscious of the ways we don't fit what's expected, our sexuality and gender is often what is used to justify marginalisation and it comes with a whole host of pain and joy because of that, and the way that queerness is marginalised forces us into direct conversation with our sexuality/gender

but queerness isn't the only complicating factor in people's relationships to sexuality and gender. like as a woman who is pretty Definitely Cis I still have a huge ongoing wrestle with my gender - it's female, but what that means and how that's expressed and how that affects how i move through the world is still complicated and fraught and often messy and contradictory. that doesn't make me trans but it does feel pretty alienating that in a lot of queer spaces there's this implied assumption that the only type of gender complexity is a discovery of non-cisness.

(and tbh a lot of the time that's fair because a lot of people aren't cis and as I say like. it's much easier to Never Have These Conversations (with others or with yourself) if you're cis. so a lot of cis people never really name their gender troubles because they're not brought face to face with them.)

but there are a lot of things that affect your relationship to your gender. for me, I know I'm a woman, but how I'm a woman is a messy question wrapped up in trauma, in misogyny, in bisexuality, in autism, in body image, in the specifics of who I am and how I relate to the world and how I want to be seen and why. and there kind of is a thing in a lot of IRL queer spaces I hang out in where people jump straight to diagnosing me with Trans of Gender if I try to discuss a complex relationship with womanhood, or a desire to present as GNC, or a discomfort with being performed in certain gendered ways. and for a lot of people that is a step on the route but as far as I can tell it's not for me, I've spent many years trying out the shape of different genders because I had got into a headspace that any complexity in my relationship to genders must mean I was Not Cis, and for me it just didn't fit, womanhood remained the best fit. and I don't regret that, I think in an ideal world everyone should push themselves to question their gender and try out and see what good, and some people are just statistically gonna be cis like. it would be a weird numbers game for absolutely nobody's gender and sex to line up.

but I'm getting sidetracked. I was thinking about how cis and het people have the capacity for equally complex relationships to gender and sexuality as anyone else, and why that's important.

(I've never been straight or even thought I was straight, but I have occasionally talked to straight people and like. I have never met anyone, straight or queer, with a simple and uncomplicated relationship to their own sexuality - is it right, is it socially acceptable, there's shame, there's trauma, there's confusion, there's gendered and racialised and ableist baggage)

and like. it isn't that sexuality and gender aren't less of a fraught space for cishet people as a group than for queer people as a group. obviously in a group that faces a history and present of marginalisation and active violence on the basis of sexuality and gender, those are more intense complexities, and because of that there's also more intense joy as well as intense conflict. we are able to build community through marginalisation. we're brought face to face with our complex relationships to ourselves and because we can't ignore it we have built the language and community and frameworks to explore it and revert in it in a way many cis het people haven't.

but.

understanding intersectionality means understanding that as much as the marginalisation of queerness is bound up in the complexity of our relationships to gender and sexuality, so are power structures of race and gender and health and neurodivergence and wealth and class and geography and culture and language and religion and politics and education.

ultimately sexuality and gender are a huge element in how we relate to the world and our bodies and ourselves. and how the world relates to us. and there isn't a person on earth for whom that's 100% simple.

and idk I think a) to pretend that cishet people can't experience their bodies and themselves in a complex way is just a denial of reality, b) it simplifies out the many intersections of identity and power in all of us (even the straightest cisest manliest rich white dude) that make our social and personal identities messy and intricate and c) it gets in the way of us building meaningful intracommunity solidarity through a shared understanding of the beauty and pain and infinite variety of gender and sexuality

also idk. it's weird to me. to me it posits that to be cis, to be straight, to be allosexual and alloromantic, is a default whereas queerness is a deviation. and I just don't believe that, I don't think there's a 'normal' and uncomplicated Default State and then everyone outside it is a complication. I think there's value in embracing that othering in the world we live in, where we need to find strength in anger and in resistance, but I don't think it represents a truth about the world as much as a reclamation of the weapons used against us.

to me it feels similar to the way that white people thinking of ourselves as aracial and everyone else as racialised is an act of unconscious white supremacy. or the way that people are really keen to draw a sharp line between the Disabled Other and the Healthy Normal People. the idea that there's Normal People and Diverse People isn't...good...really? and this is in itself a messy issue because I do think there's a lot of power and value in taking pride in the complexity and thoughtfulness of queer relationships to sex and gender and I don't think there's some great evil in joking at the expense of the privileged. but when that starts to inform your actual serious thinking I think it can be counterproductive because erasing the complexity of cishet identities and acting as if any complexity in relationship to sexuality and gender means someone's Wrong About Being Straight/Cis is kind of reinforcing the otherising of queerness.

ughhhhh this is why I say it's hard to find words. because to me now it sounds like I'm saying 'don't suggest people might be queer' and like. do do that. we're in a world where that space isn't left open for the vast majority of people and straight or not, cis or not, allo or not, I think pretty much everyone benefits from having the space and community and language to have a conversation with their own identity. but that's kind of my thing like that conversation doesn't have a right answer. the conversation needs to have room for a model of straightness and a model of cisness that doesn't immediately slam the door on further exploration.

(also I've mostly been taking about cishet people here but let's be honest it's really a question of cis AND/OR het. one thing I'm finding really difficult at the moment is that there seems to be a lot of conversations about queerness and gender expression which conflate GNCness and a complex relationship to gender exclusively with being trans, and a lot of the time talk about how being a woman and being sapphic affect your relationship to gender are understood as less authentic explorations where they incorporate cis gendered identities. and a lot of discussions about complex cis wlw relationships to gender and womanhood get coopted by terfs who think that because their complex experience of gender is a cis one that means all complex experiences of gender are cis ones being wishfully misinterpreted (this is because TERFs have. no capacity or will to imagine experiences beyond their own, apparently) and that leaves. for me. often very little room to authentically discuss and explore with others my own identity as a cis wlw who uses she/her pronouns and still has a complex relationship to gender. and indeed as someone whose attraction to men (and no it's not straight but it's different-gender) is as textured and complex as her attraction to women. like it's a long way off the top of the list of Things To Worry About but I think about it a lot.)

[tartagliaxx]

im pretty sure childe is one of the best genshin men husbando - wise.

kids?? he has so many siblings, definitely knows how to take care of them. money? I really don't think that's a problem considering his job. also he's like a malewife, like yes he probably cooks amazing food. on the other hand, you never know if one day he doesn't come home, just because of his thirst for a challenge in battle.

albedo is also probably good at this stuff, since he's always taking care of klee, but he strikes me as someone who detests babies for some reason, or he's try and experiment on them or something lmao

sincerely, ❄️ anon

i can’t argue w that. tagliatelle is a family man through and through. i think he’ll be the definition of a nearly perfect husband and that i say w no bias whatsoever. i agree w everything you’ve said but also, i feel like he’s not going to be the type to laze around the house? like, your work and chores are his too and if he was going to be honest, he prefers your spring cleaning ‘dates’ over the luxurious ones he books for you. he’ll remember every anniversary and important dates like— this man would give your family gifts for their birthdays without you needing to say anything. i feel like he knows when to act serious too? a very good listener as well so like, your relationship is pretty healthy in terms of communication. on another hand, he’s a walking death flag as you said and i feel like he tends to take things to the extreme? like he could be so protective that it almost feels suffocating. i also feel like he’s the type to walk away and slam the door shut when you fight. idk where i’m going w this but yea… childe is a good husband but he has faults too.

on another hand, i feel obligated to defend my boyfriend, albedo. yes, boyfriend. albedo would literally be the perfect boyfriend like how?? he would do all the fluffy fanfiction things that make your heart skip a bit unironically. that’s just how he is. would leave you snacks and drinks, would write short letters for you behind his sketches of you, would remind you of things through post-it notes on top of your books and would sway you to the beat of an old, slow song in the middle of a rainy day. sure, he’s a little bit busy but he always gifts you something when you meet up even if it’s just for a quick break. flowers, some crystal he found in an expedition or a handcrafted snow globe. he’s such a cutie. if you have younger siblings, he’ll offer to watch over them and they would 100% choose him over you. albedo wouldn’t be a bad husband per se, but he’s definitely not the most perfect one. you’ll feel his absence more now that you live in one house and he’s also not the most physically affectionate. i don’t think he hates babies though. like as an alchemist, i think he’d be fascinated by the nature of it. would definitely do experiments on the baby but i think he has enough sense to only do the harmless ones like how would they react to lemon scented things after tasting a lemon or smth like that. i just don’t see him intentionally putting anyone in harm’s way lol. would definitely be a little distant from his child tho. like, they have open-communication but they are not buddy-buddy like how i think tartaglia and his child would be. the line between their relationship would be firm and like,, respect is due where it should be.

[maybe-its-micheal]

MICHEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAL LORE OPINONS?

- This is probably Wilbur's most meaningful apology. I still want him to say the words "I'm sorry," but its so satisfying even without it. He put himself on the line to make things better

- I've missed c!crimeboys just hanging out. The bits while they were in the boat, all the jokes, it was glorious

- Wilbur finding out about exile. Was. So good. It was exactly what we needed. Sure there's a million different ways it could have gone, maybe some people are unsatisfied, I haven't looked at anyone else's takes yet, but I liked it a lot. It was well acted,, and I LOVED The way he IMEDIATELY went into big brother protective mode

- Also him talking about his memories and stuff, and the way Ghostbur's mind warped reality was really nice. Im just glad the truth is finally out there, and we also have some clarity on what exactly Wilbur remembered

- Wilbur and Tommy talking about Fundy in the beginning???? I loved that detail. It shouws three things, 1, exactly how shaken Wilbur was by it, 2, Tommy's perspective on dealing with emotions (repress them) which gives a lot of insight into how he was coping with exile, and 3, crimeboys still talk to and depend on eachother, or at least Wilbur still sees Tommy as a pillar of support (for better or for worse. I would argue that this was definitely for better)

- the ending. This is almost definitely unintentional, but at the very end in the community house Tommy was standing in the doorway as Wilbur explained everything. It reminded me of at Phil's house talking about apologies when Phil was like "isn't there someone you especoally need to apologize to?" The door opened and Tommy was there. Just how they were talking about how an apology shouldn't seek to be forgiven, but seek to help the person hurt, and thats exactly what happened this stream.

- Also Wilbur vividly imagining killing Dream forever upon finding out was awesome and deserved.

- really interested in the detail of the alarm though? cc!Wilbur put in the effort to include the sound during the flash, and then the line "so I didn't just imagine that?" When Tommy mentioned the alarm. Idk I feel like maybe there's something more to that? How would he have known about the alarm? And then the alarm not actually going off when they were there? Will Wilbur kill Dream???

- Proud of them both. Wilbur has been working really hard on his growth. Tommy still trusts Wilbur, and now he's free. He deserves a good, happy rest of his life and I hope he gets it.

- Also I want another stream where they talk about this. Let Tommy reflect on his way of dealing with emotions, and recognize that repression isn't healthy, but this genuinely helped. Let him talk to Wilbur about other stuff. I want to talk about Pogtopia

- But all that later. For today we celebrate. This is a happy and momentous occasion. We got LORE, AND CRIMEBOYS, AND SOMEONE ELSE FINALLY KNOWS ABOUT EXILE AND TOMMY'S CLOSURE F U C K Y E A H

[toffifee-brainrot]

I saw your requests for asks and was wondering if you could do some karlnapity fluff. Because I am in Egypt drowning in denial and I refuse to leave this karlnapity hell. Maybe a reconciliation or maybe a canon divergence were Karl actual remembers to go and tell Quackity’s about Kinko and they have a talk? Sapnap maybe can try to help his hurting fiancé’s with cuddles? Also maybe getting into his issues about his dad and the egg? Idk I just want fluff and actual communication, so what ever you write I’ll adore. Thanks 😊

Thank you for the prompt so much! I appreciate it and hope you're doing fine in Egypt! Now for my speciality, I deliver you: fluffy, healthy communication!

---

Karl has sharpie-d it to the back of his hand, 'tell Quackity about kinoko.' For the first time, it feels like he shouldn't risk forgetting, that he needs to tell his fiancé. It is more of a gut wrench than an actual problem. Something inside advises him that he shouldn't keep a whole kingdom a secret.

Gently the boy pushes the door open, cringing at the ear-piercing screech it makes along the floor. The house reeks of chips to the point Karl thinks he can taste it, a hefty contrast to the pretty flowers that blow around outside. On the couch sits Quackity in all his glory, with the tv on and his beanie laid over the radiator. Karl got a good view of his face, his hair is messy and his eyes are weighed down by heavy eyelids. He's not smiling like usual and there's no colour to his voice when he greets Karl. He's almost grey.

"Hi dear." Karl walks in and takes off his shoes, closing the door behind him with a light kick. Quackity looks over, a small curve appears for a split second on the corners of his mouth.

He takes a step forward, pulling off his scarf and running his fingers over it. Slowly, he sits down, wording his phrases in his mind.

Quackity beats him the first word to him, leaning backwards and pulling Karl in by the shoulders, "you're nervous. What's wrong?

Karl stalls before eventually leaning into the side-hug. "How'd you know?"

"You're messing with your thumbs." The two look at each other, quietly discussing without words.

"Where's Sappy?" Karl asks, leaning into the other's side.

"Sleeping."

They both focus on the news, loosely taking in the information there, nowadays it's the usually update on the prison, the egg and strange holes or mishaps in time that seem way too perfect to just be normal. Karl feels a little guilty over the last one, shaking it off as something he couldn't avoid people noticing. Quickly he moves his legs on top of Quackity's, letting out a content sigh when he squeezes his knee.

"So why were you nervous?" Karl looks at him.

"Because there's something I want to tell you."

His words catch Quackity's interest, "go on?"

"I've made a nation..." He fiddles with his scarf again, wrapping it around his arm in slow but big movements. "It's called Kinoko kingdom."

"Honey," Quackity pulls him closer, embracing him. Karl's eyes get watery as he leans into the hug, rubbing on the boy's back. "Please be careful."

"I promise."

---

The rest of the afternoon goes by slowly, filled with cuddles, comfort and conversations about Karl's newfound presidency. Near the end of their third movie the bedroom door creaks open and draws their attention. Sapnap stands awkwardly, shifting his ring over and down his thumb. Quickly the two scoots over and let the boy sit down, inviting him to the couch to which he gladly accepts.

Everything falls heavy around Karl, the warm feeling of his two favourite people soothing him to sleep.

---

Not proofread >:^

[shintorikhazumi]

Bear with her.

A/N: Just so y’all know, this was written like... 3? or more or idk? weeks ago and I totally forgot about it, lol. Also thanks to @tracedinairlwa for letting me borrow the teddy bear name :>

Anyway, Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

Okay. So maybe- just maybe- she'd screwed up. No biggie. Not really...

She was just...

A bear.

...

Welp. 

She could just roll with it, she supposed. Now, where was she?

Right! Class time! Wouldn't miss Professor Ursula's for the world!

----------

Diana was never late for class. Never. But today was just an odd day, it seemed? She had woken up a little late, wore her vest inside out, and had blanked out when Finnelan had asked her a question earlier today in her lecture. Maybe the additional patrolling shifts were finally taking their toll on the workaholic Diana Cavendish. Her sleep schedule was a wreck lately, and Hannah and Barbara's concern was palpable each time they'd aide her in all the little slip-ups she'd made this morning alone.

Quite shameful for a Cavendish heir!- is what she thought to herself.

She sighed. Today just wasn't her day, was it?

Hastening her walk, she finally made it to her designated lecture room, only to hear ear-piercing screams from the other side of the wooden barrier. Suddenly feeling alert and readying her wand, she swiftly opened the door, eyes darting about to quickly aim at whatever it was that threatened the peace of Luna Nova-

...A bear.

Diana saw a bear. Was she truly losing it? Maybe she should turn in earlier for tonight; receiving tardy passes and seeing bears in one day. This was not healthy. Bears. But why... did it look so familiar?

"DIANA!" Her classmates screamed, "Help us get this bear!!! It's... it's... It's going to devour Constanze!!!"

Blue eyes landed on their little mechanic, staring up at a motionless bear, somehow looking like they were communicating with only their gazes. Constanze shifted her attention to Diana, trying to send her a message the girl could not, for the life of her, decipher in her mind's lagging state.

She looked to the bear. There was just this something... where had she... wait, that earring... Little- no. BIG brown Arcas? Her teddy, Arcas? What was he doing...

Then she saw them. Eyes that shined like rubies, their gaze more intoxicating than any red wine. Ah. So that's what this was. And the absence of her doltish girlfriend confirmed her little theory.

The bear... was Her Akko.

----------

They'd spent the whole day together, all the way back to the dorms. Diana was making sure no more bear-induced panic occurred on campus after discovering that Akko would likely not be able to change back anytime soon. She'd said she was practicing for a class, and had been given the assignment to try broadening her repertoire of animal transformations. She was on ‘bear’, and couldn't really picture anything concrete, only remembering Diana's teddy when she'd visited the mansion. She thought it would be a cute surprise for her girlfriend before class as she’d noticed her being quite tired lately, a little energizer to get her through her day. Diana appreciated it, heart warming. Then Akko sheepishly admitted that something had backfired, and well, Diana was surprised, yes; whether it was ‘cute’, however… was up for debate.

In the privacy of the blue team dorm room, Diana had Akko sit on the bed, thinking of what she could do to help her get back to normal. As cute as her girlfriend was, this was not the best look on her. For reasons such as keeping the order of Luna Nova. She could no longer count on her hands the number of times a random student just bolted at the sight of them both, today.

At least the bear could talk. Why hadn’t Akko tried explaining to their classmates back then?

“Because I was trying to surprise you by pretending to be Arcas… like those mascots, y’know?” 

Diana didn’t know. She’d never really seen those things, but she nodded anyway, too tired to figure things out anymore. Huh? Akko had just answered her?

“That’s because you’re saying it all out loud, silly,” A furry paw booped Diana on the nose. “Guess you really need that sleep, Love.”

Diana’s heart squeezed at the nickname, nodding in understanding. She really did need it. Maybe they could patch all of this up later. It wasn’t so bad. Diana enjoyed it, if she were being honest. Her favorite companion in the past, and her favorite now in the present that she was sure would remain ‘til the future, all in one. An Arcas that smelled like Akko. Diana had a feeling she’d be sleeping well. That is…. If Akko agreed-

“It’s really amusing how you keep saying all your thoughts aloud, Diana.  It’s like you have no filter at all, anymore.” Akko giggled, her current larger form allowing her to get up and sweep Diana off her feet, laying her down on her large bed. “Bed time. Now, what would the little princess want? A story? A lullaby? Or…”

“You already told me I’d said it… so just… come here.”

“Your wish is my command, princess.” Akko grinned, climbing onto the bed beside Diana, adjusting the covers over them, before settling down and allowing a tired girlfriend to curl into her side. She vaguely heard her mumble, ‘not a princess’, before soft breaths slowed, and eventually deepened. “Sleep tight.”

“Th...ank you… my teddy... bear.” Diana whispered, half-awake and sluggish, but it still made the butterflies run wild in Akko’s ribcage as she silently squealed in delight, hugging her adorable lover ever closer, but still tender.

“You’re always welcome, Diana.” She placed a kiss on the crown of her head, feeling herself drift off as well. “Always.”

[syubub]

JIMIN SOULMATE READING

~Disclaimer: This is for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as fact~

Chim chim, my Libra son. Your time has come.

(Yes I am aware of the shit picture)

So let's start off with Jimins energy color! Its an amber orange with gold ish sparkles? Kinda like if you dipped a cheeto in gold dust?

This was the closest I could find to how it looked. Its really pretty!

Moving on. I get up to his platform and offer energy and blah blah but hes behind a little glass door thing. He doesn't open it so I'm like? Do I just leave? But then I kinda start to float through the glass? This shit makes me sound crazy and I am well aware thank you. Anyway, he touches my forehead and yeets me backwards off the platform.

Cool cool cool. It wasn't mean or anything btw, he was just kinda like oki, get to it.

The only "message" I got was just straight up, "Nevermind" thats his tattoo and idk what that has to do with anything at all lol.

Now for this person's card I got 10 of cups. This is a very well rounded, optimistic person who has worked hard to achieve the life they've always wanted. They are very fulfilled in life!

As for cards about this person's personality/ life I pulled 9 of swords, king of wands, high priestess and temperance. This person is always in search of balance in life and they are a natural born leader. They have a lot of hidden talents. This person has also been through a lot of past traumas/insecurities that are still manifesting in their life today. This person is trying to get better and is most likely in therapy (I'll get to this later too) this person is motivated and driven (I see them being a perfectionist) has a knowledgeable and strong persona.

As for possible zodiac signs I got air or earth and I pulled the empress so that to me says Taurus or Libra (or maybe those two together)

Onto the relationship. We have the sun, the lovers, seven of wands rev., the heirophant rev., death rev and ace if swords.

So this relationship is very warm. I mean no doubt they work well together and have a very seamless fit. They fit into eachothers lives like pieces of a puzzle for sure. I bet they are always very touchy around eachother. I get the feeling that his soulmate is equally as touchy and physical as he is. Probably a lot of cudles tbh. Theres a lot of love between the two.

Now, they might have an issue with being in the spotlight. Its kinda like they have a hard time dealing with being under scrutiny/ pressure. They both have things that they need to work on and they are both heavy perfectionists and having people nit pick everything that they do together really messes with them. Theres likely to be a period of "drama" and breakdowns in the relationship. Its no fault of their own though. I don't want to get too into it but its like..( possible trigger warning I guess) they both have not great relationships with food/ their bodies or they push themselves too hard as a form of self harm? And they deal with pressure in unhealthy ways sometimes. They are both getting better and doing better and are healthy but there is this caution almost that they still hold on to old, harmful coping mechanisms and IF things their relationship were to be public and people were watching everything they do 24/7 and criticizing their every move then theres a chance that they might fall back into bad habits? Or even say it was just his soulmate that kinda spirals then that might trigger him or vice versa? They have similar ish issues and all I can say is that its hard to recognize something toxic in someone else when you're plagued with the same issue. They also might not be good at communicating how they want to be loved? Like I get the sense that they have a hard time being like, "hey, it really upsets me when you do this and this is why. I know you mean well but it does xyz" ya, know? I think its hard because they don't want the other person to feel bad or like they don't appreciate the love that they receive.

HAPPIER STUFF NOW

We have warrior woman and answer the call. These cuties help eachother find their purpose. They are eachothers rock and they are both so supportive of eachother!

Moving on to messages that his soulmate has for Chim. We have open your heart, its dark and you can't see a thing (get your head out of your ass. Pronto) and get the fuck outside. Move your ass (your body is pissed at you) I think this can be interpreted as his soulmate being like, "hey. Its okay. The world is scary right now but you shouldn't lose faith in humanity. You're surrounded by people that love you and they are good people. Go take a walk and take care of yourself" some level 100 wholesome shit.

Now let's go to character cards. We have. Child: nature, mother and monk/nun rev. This person loves animals! Wouldn't be surprised if they volunteer at animal shelters and do a thawing that helps rescue animals. This person is also mom friend for sure. Always taking care of others and is everyones go to shoulder to cry on. This person also is a bit unintentionally judgy? Its not mean or anything but they have a savior complex almost? Its like they don't know what to do if they aren't needed. They also may unintentionally let some of their personal high standards seep onto other people.

Little cards are funny, feminine, dark hair, fashionable, loud and introvert.

We also have the cards from his soulmate to him, open, thinking of you, pure, negative and habit. (The last 2 were stuck together so I'm gonna say it means something about a negative habit that he has)

Now we on to the last card! We have beyond the mind, the heart beats. This card talks about listening to your heart and not ignoring its wishes. It talks about doing what you feel is right. Following that call and trusting yourself!

Last last card. I pulled one card just to get a sense of what might have contributed to his soulmates past trauma and I go the hermit. That gives me the sense that they have abandonment issues and it might be a big part of their perfectionism. So there's that.

Jiminie has a very sweet and kind soulmate and they work very well together. They help eachother to overcome and to love. The energy is so lovely even if part of the reading was serious? Really though, his soulmate is very kind and very much like him. I wish them both all of the happiness ever.

[tickle-bugs]

I had two people ask for some advice on starting up/running a blog, so I thought I’d make a little post for anyone else looking for advice! There’s no one right way to run a blog and I am by no means an expert. This is just a compilation of some of the things I’ve learned :) 

Feel free to add advice to this!

- The first thing is something I cannot stress enough. Write for yourself first. You will be absolutely miserable if you’re only writing for attention. I’m not saying it’s easy, but it’s so incredibly important. If you don’t like a prompt, fandom, or scenario? You don’t have to write for it! A personal example: I’m a theatre kid and total musical nerd. I could probably write some compelling Dear Evan Hansen or Hamilton headcanons if I wanted to, but I don’t. That’s fine! I’m allowed to say I won’t write for it and deny prompts/requests for those fandoms. 

- Set boundaries. This is a very mixed community with all sorts of creators and participants with hands in different baskets. Don’t want minors to interact? Put minors DNI in your bio. SFW only? Put it in the bio. No RP? Bio. This goes for private conversations/askbox/other interactions as well. If someone comes into your askbox/dms and says something that makes you uncomfy, shut it down. 

- My advice is more geared towards writing than art or video, but I suppose you could apply this advice as well. Make what makes you happy! If you’re only in one fandom, feel free to stay there and make content for it. Multi-fandom? Excellent! Completely non-fandom? Epic! Make the content that you want to see and the content that makes you happy to create, especially if you’re in a more niche fandom/area. 

- Organization. ...I’ll admit this one is more of a personal pet peeve than something urgent, but it is something that people positively respond to. If you have some sort of consistency/organization to your blog, it’ll make it easier and more enjoyable for people to navigate. Make a fandom list/indicate your fandoms somehow (mostly for prompt purposes. people can’t read your mind, so it’s important to tell them what you will write for and what you won’t, however you want to do that)! 

Make a masterpost/link your fic tag! Use a fic tag of some kind. Give your fics summaries and leave a little bit of the fic above the ‘read more’ to intrigue folks (look at #my fics and my masterpost for basic examples of how I do this, if you need!). Use read mores. Please use read mores (if you can, idk if they’re on mobile. regardless no one wants to encounter a three thousand word block of text on their dash). (No seriously though, organize your blog, even if it’s super simple. literally just a ‘mine’ or ‘my fics’ or ‘[pseud] writes’ and a fandom tag. It’ll make it easier for people to find your stuff and support you)

- Practice general internetiquette. Please remember that the people in this community are real people with feelings, boundaries, and lives outside of the blog that they run. Be genuine and people will respond to you! Don’t manipulate people into likes/reblogs/attention. No one wants to be on the other end of that. Being in this community isn’t a transaction or a mosh pit, it’s an experience.  

- Be ever-so-liberal with the block button. Someone’s user makes you uncomfortable? They give you bad vibes? They’re a minor/older than you and you don’t want them interacting with your content? You don’t wanna see their blog for some reason? Block em. This goes for anons too. That’s what the button is for. Don’t feel guilty for using it. Use it. 

- How you write is 100% a personal choice and not really something that I can give advice on, but embrace your style! take prompts if you want, or don’t. Write oneshots, series, drabbles, or novels. Write romantic, or don’t. Etc. Change things up if you feel like it. Do what you want. Your blog, your style, your rules. 

- Numbers matter. Don’t let them define you. This is a bit of a harder one to explain, but I will try. I often say that I don’t care about numbers, and I really don’t, but that’s not to say that I don’t see them and they have zero effect on me. I absolutely notice and am bummed if a fic doesn’t get notes, or at least the notes that I was expecting. That is entirely normal and okay to experience. What isn’t okay, though, is creating for the sake of getting notes/numbers/attention (re: write for yourself first, internetiquette). If you find yourself relying on tumblr for gratification and a reward, I implore you to take a break. I’m not your therapist or your parent, I’m not gonna tell you what to do, but when you make things only for the sake of notes, people notice. Celebrate your milestones. Know that it’s okay to be bummed about low notes/celebrate getting plenty. Just make sure that you don’t depend on the numbers for your happiness, or you will be miserable.

- You’re (probably) doing this for free. You are providing people content: a service. Produce as much or as little as you’re comfy with, but always remember that. No one is entitled to what you make. If someone asks you for headcanons, sends a prompt when prompts are closed, etc, and you don’t feel like fulfilling it? You have no obligation to do that. Getting commissioned is another story entirely, but as long as you��re making free content, you have zero obligation to do anything for anyone and certainly no time constraints. It can take me months to finish prompts, and that’s okay. I do them when I do them and I fill them how I want to. If my prompts are closed, I deny new ones until I’m ready to accept them. Make yourself happy first.

- How you interact with others is up to you! It’s generally considered good practice to like/reblog your mutuals fics/art, but this is not necessarily a hard and fast rule. I veeeeeery rarely reblog fics for fandoms that I’m not in, even from my mutuals. What you can do to show your support (and you should try and show support somehow. No one is in competition. Everyone’s in your boat, whether they have no followers or 1k) is send an ask/reply to the post/leave tags to let the author know you liked it. Like the fic and don’t reblog it, if you don’t want to. Just make sure you show your mutuals (and others in general!) roughly the same support they show you, however you decide to do that. Treat others how you want to be treated, as cheesy as it sounds :)

- Don’t repost content that isn’t yours without express permission from the original creator, and credit them appropriately. If you see a cute piece of tickle art and the artist doesn’t want it reposted? Don’t repost it. Don’t post fics/videos/gifs that aren’t yours (obviously if it’s like a scene from a movie/a clip on youtube that’s different, but don’t take credit for things you didn’t make, including ideas). Can’t tell you how frustrating it is to have work stolen from you. Don’t be that person. ‘Credit to original artist’ and ‘credit unknown’ is total bullshit btw. Link/tag the creator in the original post and make it clear you don’t own the content. Best practice is to ask the original creator if they’re okay with reposting, work inspired by or connected to theirs, etc. This goes doubly for saving/downloading someone’s fics. 

- It is not illegal for a minor to have normal, nonsexual, healthy friendships with people older than them. There’s a weird attitude that minors have nothing of value to offer adults besides a relationship/sex, which is...not true? Minors are thinking, living human beings with feelings, thoughts, and opinions. You can talk to them like normal people, because they are. Just obviously don’t talk about/introduce sex or endanger them. Minors don’t bring up sex/activities you’re underage for with an adult. IDK this isn’t a seminar just...don’t be weird. Adults can offer great life experience, support systems, and the basic joys and needs of human connection. Minors can too. Mind your business unless someone’s actually in danger. The next point is a caveat, though: 

- If you’re a minor, don’t interact with NSFW blogs/blogs with ‘Minors DNI’, NSFW blogs don’t interact with minors, etc etc. Not your parent or whatever but this is pretty common sense and it’s for everyone’s safety, but especially the NSFW person. internettiquette!

- If you use your TK blog as a side blog (meaning you have another blog as your main blog, not two separate accounts) and don’t want your main exposed, that is up to you. I recommend not liking posts. Also, follow people that you trust. These actions route through your main blog and your main will show up in the notes. You can reblog from a sideblog. If you want to send an ask “as your tk blog”, send an anon and sign it somehow, like ‘hey :) // @/tickle-bugs’. It should tag you in the post so you get a notification when it’s answered!

- Find your people! As an anxious person this one has been hard for me, so I know it’s hard for a lot of people. Fandom is literally a community of shared interest. Peachy and I have an iron bond almost two years later and we met talking over shared interests. You can absolutely find your people here. If someone makes you happy, strike up a conversation! Send an ask! You never know what doors it might open or whose day you might improve :)

- If you were an anon/lurker on someone’s blog and they inspired you to write/submit/start your own, sign your messages!! the common form that I see is either an emoji or [noun/context of the ask]!anon (prodigal!anon (i miss u every day), butterfly!anon, etc.) Let us know how to find and support you!! Those messages produce good brain juice. 

- The big finale: Have fun. If you’re not having fun here, maybe you could tweak something to make things enjoyable. Running a blog is like driving a car. Keep your hands on the wheel, respectfully indicate your intentions (flashing lights optional), and be safe. Poebody’s nerfect, y’know. If you make a mistake, course correct. I’m by no means perfect. Your favs aren’t either. Just do your best and have a good time :)

@rosytickles and the anon in my inbox, I hope this helps! Thank you for asking me, I’m very honored that you value my opinon/experience/advice. I apologize if I come off as preachy or aggressive, I envisioned grabbing my younger self by the lapels and shaking me vigorously while I wrote this. Probably a bad idea. 

Anywho, hope it helps. Anyone with questions, additions, or comments, my askbox is open! Just be constructive, is all I ask.