#it contains multitudes; it buries them

[terapsina]

The Wheel of Time character types:

The Dumb Puppy - aka - Serial Imprinter - aka - Won't Get A Single Break From Now Until the Final Heat Death of the Universe... Or After.

Tiny and Angry - aka - The Sleeping Berserk Button - aka - The One They're Not Gonna See Coming Until She Rips Out All Their Throats.

'If my middle name wasn't Spite it would be Fuck You' - aka - The Duck Mother to the Very Dumb Baby Ducks - aka - Will Spend at Least an Episode a Season Inside a Tragic Romance B-Plot - aka - Had The Braincell, Temper Made Her Lose It (she contains multitudes).

The Violent Sunshine Character - aka - Would Sucker Punch a God for a Homie She Met Two Hours Ago.

If Evil, Why Hot?

The word 'Nap' isn't in her vocabulary but it should be - aka - Can't Have 'One Nice Thing' for More Than Two and a Half Minutes - aka - Allergic to Feelings.

'There's a big sign that says Don't Touch The Red Button... I'm gonna touch the Red Button.' - aka - Who is This... Self Esteem You Speak Of? Never Heard of Them.

Voted Most Likely to be Adopted by a Hundred Random Strangers - aka - The Wolves Would Like Him to Get the Braincell but it Fell on the Ground and the Ground is Lava.

Doesn't Get Paid Enough for this Shit - aka - Clinging to the Last Braincell With the Tips of His Fingernails - aka - 'I can't believe I of all people am willing to have a single goddamn conversation here.'

'Fine I'll Do the Babysitting But You Owe Me So Much Booze' - aka - The Aunt That Once Forgot You In the Mall - aka - The Aunt That Gave You All the Safe Sex Tips and Traumatized You For Life - aka - The Aunt That Would Absolutely Bury a Body No Questions Asked.

[lambilegs]

Congrats on the 1k!! ⭐️⭐️⭐️

My first word choice is Whelve from list #2

Sevika x Reader, open to sfw or nsfw

So I LOVED your Sevika!Roommate headcannons, and if your up to it I was hoping for maybe an alternate ending?

Cause when I was reading I started imagining oh shit what if reader kinda runs into Ran first a little as fwb and Sevila has to deal with the jealousy she starts to feel?? IF you're even interested enough in writing about Ran even a little.

If not the words Incandescence and Sweven caught my eye too lol your call ofc

1K DRABBLES: WHELVE, SWEVEN & INCANDESCENCE

whelve: to bury something deep, to hide  sweven: a dream incandescence: light produced by high temperatures note to anon: AHHH thank you so much love!! and I'm so happy you enjoyed roommate!sevi hehe, it was definitely fun to write. and I'm definitely into writing for ran, I think they're sooo fine 🤭 your idea had me inspired, and I decided to use all three of your words for it hehe. I hope you enjoy it <33 contains: angst with no comfort (pls I'm so sorry), alcohol, sevika pretty much being anguished over you being with someone else, based on roommate!au

sevika watches you from the bar, her teeth clashing together, almost as though she's chewing on something tough, rubber-woven, hard to truly break through. she knows she must look like a slightly deranged, wholly possessive girlfriend right now, but that's exactly how she feels. her mind is whirring with thoughts, and mixed with the hazy tinge of alcohol, she feels like she's clouded with a multitude of emotions that bear no mercy for her, brutally stacking upon one another until she's rubbing her eyes with the onslaught of pain surging through her mind.

because you're there. dancing with fucking ran, of all people. ran, who sevika had always been chill with, and upon whom she had bestowed the privilege of letting into her apartment. ran, who sevika has worked with for nearly a year now. ran, whose face she wants to punch into until she chips at least one tooth. she can feel it running through her veins -- hot, bleeding rage that seizes around every inch of her innards, tightening and squeezing until it's all she knows. she wants so badly to march up to you and rip you away from them, shake you and ask you what the fuck you're doing. because you're hers -- and she's trying. she no longer brings girls over, she tries to be nicer, she waits until you wake up so you two can do the morning crossword together.

but, that doesn't really mean shit, right? not when the fire whipping from the walls of this all-too-expensive club are setting your face aflame, making you glow in all shades of orange and gold. not when you look like a sunbeam brought to life, every sway of your hips and batting of your lashes striking sevika like a personal bolt send her way.

she wants, so badly, for it all to be one horrible fucking dream. sometimes, she stirs awake in the middle of the night, and hears your whimpers as ran takes care of you, and she squeezes her eyes shut, urging herself back to sleep. if she wakes in the morning, and there are no traces of ran in the apartment, she pitifully convinces herself that maybe the noises she heard last night weren't real. but, then again, sevika has never been one for tall tales. because no matter what she offers herself as a way out of this living hell, the underbelly always contains the same reminder: you're not hers. but, maybe you could've been.

it's a reminder that stabs into her gut without relent when she goes to work and sees a hickey on ran's neck. it's one that twists and sends her gut curling into mind-consuming pain when she finds you in the kitchen, wearing ran's t-shirt as you make dinner. it's one that bleeds her out until she's piss drunk and tumbling into her bed, drool leaking from her mouth and eyes stone-heavy, after she sees you kiss them on the dance floor.

that should be her. it could've fucking been her. if she had stopped playing around, if she had put an end to the games earlier, it could've been her arms wrapped around you in the club. it could've been her t-shirts you fidget with the stitches and loose strands of as you half-heartedly watch the television when eating your food.

but, instead, she chose to play around. she chose to keep bringing girls who she pictured to be you when fucking, and keep making comments to poke fun at how much you like her, how much you want her. because that space, the in-between line hovering between roommates who flirt and genuine romance -- that's a comfortable space for her. it's safe, it's far from the simultaneous confines and terrifying exposure that exists tucked away into the pockets of a vulnerable, deeper bond. it's one where she doesn't have to worry about obligations, or how the fuck she'll ever manage to confide in you about all the past memories that still lingers in her chest, burrowing in a hollow she's unconvinced she'll ever be fully rid of.

but, that can't be harder than this. this hell she's been occupying everyday, the flames licking at her and searing through her skin everytime she's faced with the fact that you're no longer hers -- not even by a half, which is what she was satisfied with before. but, how fucking stupid was that? it's not like back then, part of her didn't sting with the fact that you weren't hers in entirety, as something that is whole and not only distributed through brief touches and momentary banter.

but, now you spend so much time with ran that she doesn't even have a quarter of you, not even a piece. and even if you and ran are just fuck buddies, she can see how you light up when they drop by. how the two of you avoid her narrowed gaze as you usher them to your bedroom.

she can see how she's on the outs now. just as you once were.

and that solidifies her resolve, tying it with a red ribbon that's stapled in, unyielding to any force of affection or envy.

she's played with you enough. she'll let you have this.

even if it means she buries herself whole, not an inch of you left with her anymore.

[lyn31]

Oblivious

Summary:

A chaotic picnic spirals into you exposing your sister’s and Caleb's past romantic misinterpretations—until the tables turn on you.

Ao3 link

My Masterlist ✨

Notes:

Pairing: Caleb x f!OC and Zayne x MC/Reader College AU, fluff, silly, banter, other lads NPC, let them lived in peace in this universe, very dramatic MC but that's to be expected

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The late afternoon sun casts golden light over the grass. Tara and Jenna are fighting over the last slice of pizza, Nero’s leaning against a tree with his earbuds in.

Greyson and Yvonne are setting up a makeshift badminton net, and Caleb and your sister are sharing a blanket—until inspiration strikes.

You sit up fast, eyes gleaming.

"Oh my God—remember when you thought Caleb liked me?"

Your sister groans immediately, burying her face in her hands.

"No. We are not doing this. Let it die."

Caleb, the traitor, grins and leans back on his elbows. "Oh yes, we are. Take it away."

Tara perks up. "Ooh, story time!" She nudges Jenna, who is already interested.

Zayne shifts, quiet amusement in his gaze. He knows exactly where this is going but doesn’t stop you.

You clear your throat, placing a hand dramatically over your heart. "Alright, so—high school. A simpler time. I'm just minding my business, being an amazing little sister, when this one—" you gesture at your sister "—walks up to me, dead serious, and goes—"

You grab Zayne’s arm, tugging him into your reenactment. He allows it, one brow raised, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips.

"I think Caleb likes you."

Nero pulls out an earbud, frowning. "Wait, what?"

Greyson abandons the badminton setup entirely, intrigued. "This already sounds good."

Yvonne smirks, arms crossed.  "Oh, this is gonna be great."

You continue, eyes wide. "At first, I think she’s joking, so I just keep doing whatever I was doing. But then she doubles down—'No, I really think he likes you.'" You pause for effect, then clutch Zayne’s wrist dramatically. "And that’s when I actually look up at her and go—"

You shake Zayne’s arm lightly, voice filled with exasperation. "'What the hell are you talking about?!'"

Caleb barks out a laugh. "This is painfully accurate."

Your sister groans louder. "I hate this. Why do I have to relive this?"

Jenna waves a hand. "No, no—let her cook. This is quality content."

You nod appreciatively before launching into the next part.

"So then she starts listing all these signs that Caleb supposedly liked me. First, she says, 'He always offers to carry your stuff!' And I go—" You throw your hands in the air. "'Because he knows I stuff my bag like a medieval scribe preparing for exile!'"

Caleb shrugs. "It was ridiculously heavy."

Tara clutches Jenna’s arm. "The romance!"

Jenna pats her hand. "Stay strong, Tara."

You roll your eyes before pointing an accusatory finger at your sister. "Meanwhile, he’s literally carrying your books and slinging his arm around you like we’re in a coming-of-age romance movie."

Nero lets out a low whistle. "Damn, Caleb, I didn’t know you had that in you."

Caleb smirks. "I contain multitudes."

Your sister lets out a suffering noise, but you continue mercilessly.

"Then she goes, 'He buys you food all the time!' And I’m like—" You throw a hand to your chest. "'Because I forget to eat, and he’s scared I’ll drop dead!'"

Caleb, entirely unbothered, nods. "Still a valid concern."

Yvonne tilts her head, intrigued. "Wait, so he was buying both of you food?"

You point at her. "Exactly! But for her, it was her favorite food, without her even asking, and he remembered her coffee order perfectly."

Greyson whistles. "That’s some next-level thoughtfulness."

You snap your fingers. "That’s what I said! But no, she kept going. Next, she’s like, ‘He touches you all the time! Look, he ruffles your hair!’ And I go—" You gesture dramatically. "'Like a dog, sis. Not a lover.'"

Caleb bursts out laughing, while Zayne—who has been letting you use him as a prop this whole time—finally speaks, his voice calm but amused.

"You do have very ruffle-able hair."

You whirl on him. "Not you too!"

Everyone laughs, and your sister groans for the millionth time.

"Can we please change the subject?"

Caleb slings an arm around her shoulder, grinning. "Oh, I dunno. I think we should go over every detail again."

She shoves him, but there’s no real force behind it.

You beam, absolutely thriving in the chaos you’ve created.

“Oh, we’re far from done.” You clasp your hands together, locking eyes with your sister, who looks like she’s contemplating her life choices. “Shall I continue?”

Jenna and Tara immediately nod. Greyson abandons all pretense of badminton.

Even Nero, usually indifferent, is hooked.

Your sister looks one second away from strangling you. "I will actually murder you in your sleep."

You ignore the threat.

"So anyway! After the hair-ruffling scandal of the century, she says—"

"He always texts you first!" You shake your head dramatically. "And I'm like, 'With ‘Hey, dumbass, did you submit your essay?’'"

Caleb doesn’t even look guilty. "Hey, those reminders saved your ass more than once."

Yvonne laughs. "But what was he texting her?" She gestures to your sister.

You grin. "Did you get home safe? Or something like You seemed tired today, you okay?"

There’s a collective groan of realization.

Tara clutches her heart. "That is so sweet, what the hell?"

Jenna side-eyes your sister. "And you thought he liked your sister?"

Your sister, fully mortified, waves her hands. "Okay, but in my defense, I was blinded by stupid crush feelings! I wasn’t thinking clearly!"

Caleb smirks. "You were definitely not thinking clearly."

She glares at him, and you know that if she weren’t so flustered, she’d have a comeback. But she doesn’t. And Caleb looks far too satisfied about that.

Which means you have to keep going.

"And then! The ultimate proof! She goes, 'He gave you his jacket when it was cold!' And I go—" You gesture at Zayne, expecting him to already know his line.

Without missing a beat, Zayne deadpans, "Because I was shivering and he was wearing two."

You point at him, grinning. "Exactly! A perfectly logical explanation! And if that’s a sign of love, then I guess Zayne was already setting the standard, because he did all that for me too."

Zayne, mid-sip, pauses—just for a fraction of a second—before continuing like nothing happened.

Yvonne raises an eyebrow. "Wait, so Caleb was out here making romantic gestures, and Zayne was just… doing the same thing?"

You shrug. "Yeah, but Zayne wasn’t in love with me back then. He was just being Zayne."

Zayne makes a small, almost amused sound—something between a scoff and a chuckle. You turn to him, suspicious, but he only takes another slow sip of water, deliberately not meeting your gaze.

Jenna catches it immediately, her eyes narrowing. "Ohhh. Interesting."

"Not interesting," Zayne corrects smoothly, finally looking at her. "Just factual."

Jenna smirks. "Uh-huh. Sure."

Zayne doesn’t argue, but the way his fingers tap lightly against his water bottle betrays him.

Meanwhile, Yvonne whistles lowly. "That’s some romance drama novel behavior."

Nero, usually unbothered by everything, nods. "Textbook obliviousness."

Jenna leans in, eyes sparkling. "Okay, but what finally convinced you she was wrong?"

You dramatically point to Caleb. "Because then this idiot walked in!"

Right on cue, Caleb leans forward, resting his chin on his hand. "And what did I say?"

You roll your eyes but mimic his voice perfectly. "Hey, I got you that book you were talking about." You turn to the group. "And then he pulls out a first edition of her favorite childhood book that she has been hunting down like it’s nothing."

Tara smacks Jenna’s arm. "Are you hearing this?! That’s final boss-level love confession nonsense!"

Jenna, meanwhile, is pointing an accusing finger at your sister. "And you still thought he liked your sister instead of you even after that?"

Your sister groans. "Not after that, okay?!"

Caleb smirks at her. "Oh? What changed?"

She shoots him a warning look, but that only makes his smirk grow. You swear she’s turning pink.

And just because you love chaos, you sigh wistfully. "Honestly, it was so obvious. The way you looked at him? The way he looked at you?" You place a hand over your chest. "True love."

Your sister kicks your leg. "Shut up."

Caleb, looking entirely too pleased, leans back and stretches. "Well, we got there eventually."

Tara clasps her hands together. "And now you’re disgustingly cute and gross in a whole new way!"

Greyson nods sagely. "A beautiful evolution."

Yvonne sighs dramatically. "And here I thought I was coming to the park to relax."

"Anyway!" You clap your hands together. "That’s the tragic and hilarious tale of how my sister thought Caleb was into me."

Jenna sighs happily. "A masterpiece of romantic miscommunication."

Tara raises a pretend glass. "To love, and to being blind to it."

Everyone cheers, even Zayne, who taps his water bottle against Tara’s raised hand.

And your sister, burying her face in Caleb’s shoulder to hide her embarrassment, groans one last time.

"I hate all of you."

You barely have time to bask before Caleb smirks and leans in. "Okay, but you two were even worse."

You blink. "Excuse me?"

Zayne raises an eyebrow, amused but making no effort to intervene.

Your sister, finally recovering from her embarrassment, pounces on the opportunity. "Oh, come on. You guys practically functioned as a couple for years without admitting it."

Jenna grins. "You were just two dumbasses waiting for the other to make a move."

You scoff, crossing your arms. "That’s not—!"

Caleb interrupts smoothly. "Really? Because I distinctly remember Zayne threatening a guy for standing too close to you, and you acting like that was normal."

You wave a hand. "It was normal!"

The group, in perfect, terrifying synchronization, shouts: "SEE?!?!"

Zayne, as always, just takes a sip of water. Meanwhile, you groan into your hands as your so-called friends revel in dragging you through the mud.

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Notes:

I forgooooooot! I meant to post this two days ago...... I thought I did.... welp.... here it is a silly one!

I was editing to add the rest of the series part but it was too long ahahaha so here's just the whole list: College AU list ✨

[jahayla-parker]

🎆 Requests: Please note these will be likely shorter than my longer requests (I say that but you all know me 😂). These cannot contain a lot of specifics or anything like that. Rather, it’s a simple concept and a character. Limit is 1 request per follower for this option given the time it’ll take to do these.

what about finnick odair x wife!reader where he has to go back to the games and she waits for him and they reunite back in 13 and she is glued to his side during their time there cause she's afraid to lose him and it's like hurt comfort and fluffy <333

Heartbreak’s Cure : Finnick Odair x Reader

Descr: 5k wc, Finnick and his wife reunite in District 13 after Finnick returns from his second Hunger Games and they help each other through the aftermath of him being reaped a second time. Hurt-comfort, flangst

Warnings: hunger game type content and applicable warnings, trauma, sadness, mentions of Mag’s death, mentions of Finnick’s background (including brief mention of Snow selling his body).

“Finnick!”

“Fin!”

“Y/n?”

“Honey?!”

“Fin!”

The couple’s screaming continued as they raced toward the sound of the other’s voice.

Y/n sprinted around the corner of the dull gray slabbed walls of the medical corridor when her eyes finally caught sight of who she’d been searching for; her husband. The air left her lungs and her body abruptly halted upon seeing him.

Finnick had been bolting down the hallway when y/n suddenly appeared as she turned the corner. He briefly paused in breathless relief before he once again began charging towards his wife.

Y/n copied Finnick’s needy rush and ran straight into his extended arms. She buried her head into the crook of his neck as he lifted her up. She hooked her legs around his waist as he held her to him so tight it was difficult to breathe. But she couldn’t care less. He was alive! He was home!

Finnick spun them around as he closed his eyes and admired the way it felt to be able to hold his loving wife once again. “Hi love,” he finally spoke, his voice a soft whisper.

“Hi Finny,” y/n whimpered. “Are you alright?” She asked, leaning back against the supportive hold he had on her tailbone so she could see him.

“I’m perfectly fine now y/n/n,” Finnick vowed, pulling her back to him and protectively holding her tight in his arms. He was so relieved his sweet wife was okay. That Snow hadn’t been able to harm her before she’d made it to District 13.

After a heartfelt kiss between them, y/n pulled away as her worry took over. “Let me take a look at you,” y/n pressed, not believing Finnick‘s well meaning reassurance. She again leaned back while staying in his arms, her legs still around his waist as he held her up. She frowned as her eyes noticed the multitude of scratches along his face. “Liar,” she whispered with a pout.

Finnick chuckled lightly. Damn he had missed her.

Y/n hopped down from Finnick’s arms and grabbed his bicep. “C’mere baby,” she cooed as she lead him to the nearest stretcher. “Here, sit down,” she instructed. When he complied, she kissed his forehead and gave him a warm smile. “Does it hurt? It looks like it hurts,” she commented as she quickly pulled over a tray of random medical supplies. “Are you sure you’re okay? Are there any injuries I can’t see?” Y/n continued to interrogate worryingly.

“Honey,” Finnick smiled. He gently grasped y/n’s wrist as she softly tried to clean his skin.

“I'm sorry, I know it hurts, but I gotta clean it,” y/n explained, giving her husband a sympathetic frown.

Finnick grinned admiringly and shook his head. “It’s okay, that’s not what I’m talking about,” he explained softly. “Breathe Honey, I’m okay”. Finnick lovingly rubbed his thumb against the inner side of her wrist to soothe her.

Y/n set the washcloth down with a sigh. She wanted to help her husband. She looked around to take a quick inventory of the room. It had been awhile since she was last in this wing. Seeing a stack of cases of water bottles, she hummed and hurriedly sprinted to it. She effortlessly pulled out an unopened bottle and brought it back to Finnick with a small smile. Surely he was dehydrated! “Here, drink this, it’ll help.”

Finnick replied with a sympathetic sigh. He understood why she was fussing over him, he’d have been much worse if the roles were reversed. But, it didn’t mean he wanted her worrying so much. As such, he sipped on the water she’d passed him; not mentioning to her that on the flight back here, the nurse had hooked up an IV to help his fluids. After taking a considerable drink, he twisted the cap back on and took ahold of y/n’s hand. “Honey,” Finnick softly scolded, tugging her hand away from the water bottle as he tried to get her to stop fretting over him. “You look really good in my sweater,” he commented, changing the topic as he took notice of what his wife was wearing.

Y/N’s cheeks heated up, prompting her to bashfully look down at the stretcher’s wheels. She let her eyes flicker briefly to the sweater in question before biting her lip and slowly lifting her gaze to Finnick’s. “I.., sorry, I needed something that smelled and felt like you,” she explained.

Finnick shook his head, a prideful smile now gracing his lips. “You don’t need to apologize,” he commented lovingly as he tenderly guided her closer by curling his thumb resting under her chin. “Were you okay honey?”

“It’s fine, you’re here now,” y/n smiled. “That’s all that matters,” she hummed, leaning closer as she moved her hands to cup her husband’s defined cheeks.

“No, no,” Finnick argued. “How were you while I was away?” He repeated, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed. “What all happened? What did I miss?”

“Me,” y/n giggled with a smug smile.

Finnick chuckled, his cheeks turning a soft red. “Well that goes without saying, my dear,” he winked. After a moment of silent bliss, he turned his expression to a look that communicated he wanted her to give him an actual answer.

Y/n shrugged. She’d struggled while he’d been gone. But he didn’t need to know the depths of that. At least not right now. She knew her husband well enough to know it was futile keeping a secret from him. Even if it was for his own sake. He’d know at some point. For now though she would keep it as vague as possible without hurting his feelings by keeping it inside. “Nothing other than just worrying about you,” she murmured quietly, eyes closed.

Finnick frowned in understanding. “Oh love,” he purred, his fingers reaching out to grip the material of his her their sweater.

“I .. I got your message though,” y/n elaborated, peering into Finnick’s loving eyes.

Finnick grinned and tugged y/n closer to him. “Good,” he murmured, fingers moving to trail her cheeks.

“You’re not allowed to talk about your death like that again though, Finnick Odair,” y/n scolded in a soft voice.

Finnick chuckled and nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Odair,” he grinned, pulling her in for a kiss.

Y/n was resting beside Finnick’s medical cot in the hospital corridor of District 13 when she felt him stir. She quickly set down her notebook and faced her husband. She frowned lightly as she noticed the confused look in his eyes. He had been sleeping when the medic came in to adjust the medication dosage coursing through his veins. It had been like this off and on for the last few hours, so y/n hadn’t paid much mind to it until she felt him stir beside her in response to it.

Finnick tried to keep the tears from building up in his eyes as he tried to scoot away from whoever the person was beside him. He had thought he made it back to y/n, to District 13. But he didn’t remember being put under and upon opening his eyes he saw a nurse-like figure standing before him in a medical room so clearly he’d been dreaming. Of course he had. He’d been dreaming of his precious wife and making it back to her ever since he’d been reaped for the second time. He didn’t recall anything after the arena collapsing in on him. He thought he had, but he had clearly been dreaming of those events. So he figured he must’ve been captured after their attempt to escape the games. As such, he presumed this nurse before him was from The Capitol. It was the only explanation for why his wife wasn’t by his side when he thought he’d reconnected with her earlier. Hence why he began resisting the medic’s attempts to adjust whatever they were pumping into his body through the IV in his right arm.

“No, no, no, no, no, hey,” y/n rushed out, turning to face Finnick more directly. “Finnick? Hi, I've got you,” she informed him as his frantic eyes darted to her face. “You're safe. Finnick, can you hear me?” She asked, noticing the distant look in his sea-green eyes. “They're here to help you, you need to let them help you,” she pleaded, squeezing his hand.

Finnick’s eyes snapped down to his hand as he felt a squeeze. He looked back up at y/n and gazed into her eyes as the pieces returned to him. He hadn’t been dreaming. He had escaped the games. He’d made it back to y/n. She’d been beside him the whole time. He just hadn’t looked to his left upon waking up.

“That’s it, babe,” y/n cooed encouragingly. “They are just helping your body heal,” she smiled softly, leaning over to kiss his forehead.

Finnick hummed in relief. His hands moved to wrap around his wife. He held onto her as he tried desperately to not cry against her shoulder. He was home. He was back with his girl.

“I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention,” Finnick pouted playfully. To emphasize his point, he stretch his right hand and the attached IV over his lap to poke y/n’s side.

Y/n raised her eyebrows at her husband in question. She’d been giving him plenty of attention. In fact, she was certain he had to be growing tired of her constant presence and fussing over him. “You need more attention?” She questioned knowingly.

Finnick nodded with a smug smile. “From you? Always,” he grinned.

Y/n rolled her eyes jokingly as her cheeks flushed. “You’re lucky I love you,” she teased, kissing his cheek.

Finnick resumed playing with y/n’s hand he was holding. “The luckiest,” he agreed proudly.

Y/n simply bashfully bit her lip and buried her head against Finnick’s bicep as it rested on his cot.

“I’m tired of laying here in this stupid bed though,” Finnick said to explain his earlier comment.

“Finnick,” y/n sighed. She lifted her head off his arm to look down at him.

“I want to go home,” Finnick said, almost whining.

Y/n frowned. “I know, I do too,” she acknowledged. “But, Finnick, we have to stay in District Thirteen until it’s safe to go back,” she reminded him cautiously.

Finnick shook his head. “I know, I didn’t mean home-home”.

“What?”

“Not as in District Four,” Finnick elaborated. “While that would be nice,” he hummed, “I meant wherever it is here that our home is now, wherever you spend your nights”.

Y/n smiled adoringly at her husband. “Let me go ask them again when you can leave, I doubt it’s changed, but if you promise me you’re feeling okay, I’ll try to persuade them,” she offered.

“I promise,” Finnick nodded with an appreciative smile. He tugged y/n’s hand back just as she went to head towards the hallway, “but be quick”. When her head whipped around quickly, her eyes full of concern, he blushed before hurriedly explaining his thoughts. “‘Cause I missed you,” he whispered shyly, grinning again when his wife kissed the top of his head lovingly.

Y/n closed the door to their bedroom behind her as she and Finnick entered the hall. She turned towards her husband with a timid smile. They were about to head out for a light stroll so she could show him around. “Can I hold your hand?” She requested quietly, needing to physically feel his presence to remind her he was here after so long.

Finnick smiled, “you never gotta ask, sugar”. He kissed his wife’s warm cheek. “But, I have a better idea”.

“Which is?”

“Piggy back ride?"

“Finnick,” y/n scolded, shaking her head. “You should be taking it easy,” she reminded him. When he playfully rolled his eyes, she glared protectively back at him.

Finnick hummed and took ahold of y/n’s hands. “I promise I’m fine, honey. I wouldn’t put you through dealing with the aftermath if I wasn’t,” he promised.

Despite Finnick having convinced y/n he was able to give her a piggy back ride, she wasn’t done being protective over him. She’d just gotten her husband back! She wasn’t about to let something happen to him! As such, she had been doing everything under the sun to protect him from even minor things like loud noises, bright lights, etc.

Finnick knew what y/n was doing and her reasoning behind it. So, he’d complied with her wishes and heeded her warnings, all while smiling bashfully. He was beyond appreciative of his wife’s considerate measures. And he found her actions insanely cute.

They couple had taken a quick break so y/n could help one of District 13’s other residents find the supplies closet. Luckily the room was nearby, so she was not away from her husband for more than a handful of minutes. However, when she returned, she was less than pleased. “What do you think you’re doing?!” Y/n hissed at Mike, one of District 13’s leaders. He was evidently having her husband help him move some boxes of equipment. Y/n knew the boxes with the particular symbol that was on the one Finnick had been about to pick up were often pretty heavy. It was certainly not something Finnick should be doing right now! “He just got back, have Gale help you with carrying that!” She critiqued with a harsh glare.

Finnick sucked in his bottom lip as he tried not to laugh lightly or smile at y/n’s behavior. He shrugged minimally at the man beside him before he made his way over to his wife. “I’m okay, angel,” he cooed in a hushed voice so only she could hear.

Y/n nodded silently in response to Finnick’s reassurance. She gave Mike another sharp glance and then took her husband’s hand and led him away from the room.

Finnick froze momentarily before he stiffly turned to face y/n. They’d been eating lunch alone in the corner of the cafeteria when he suddenly heard her sniffle. Why was she crying? “Are… are... are these good tears? Or bad tears?" He asked quietly. He only got a hum in response, making his brows furrow further. “Y/n?”

“Both”.

“Both?”

Y/n nodded. When she felt Finnick’s worried eyes on her, she shrugged. “Bad cause I missed you and I was so worried,” she explained. “But, good cause you’re home now”. She knew she was speaking in broken sentences, but it was the best she could do right now without breaking down from her emotions.

“Sugar,” Finnick whined sympathetically. “My sweet girl.. I’m so sorry-”.

Y/n rapidly shook her head. “Don’t apologize, Finny,” she whispered lovingly. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you have to. I just, I don’t know I just…”

“Shhh...just let me hold you,” Finnick instructed warmly. He knew how to make his wife feel better. He grinned as she wasted no time sliding down the bench to him and snuggling up. “I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

“Promise?”

Finnick swore his heart both soared and broke over the sweet but scared tone of y/n’s voice. “I promise angel,” he vowed, smiling to himself as she buried herself in his hold even further.

“No, no, you need to lie still,” y/n instructed as Finnick yet again fidgeted. There were resting in their shared bed, almost about to fall asleep when he’d begun tossing and turning.

Finnick turned to face his patient wife’s beautiful face. He batted his long eyelashes at her. “Baby, could you play with my hair?” He requested in a gentle whisper. He closed Jo’s eyes as y/n instantly complied with his wish. “That feels so nice,” he murmured.

“Good,” y/n smiled, her fingers dancing through Finnick’s sun-dyed golden locks.

“I missed you,” Finnick whispered blissfully.

Y/n smirked playfully. “You missed my fingers in your hair,” she teased.

“No,” Finnick argued, holding y/n’s wrist to stop her playing with his hair for a moment. He turned his head to look up at her. “I’m serious, I missed you,” he replied with a frown.

“Hmmm, I know sweetheart,” y/n informed her husband, craning her neck to kiss his forehead. “I missed you too,” she whispered.

“I was so worried about you,” Finnick admitted as his mind went back to his worries over y/n’s wellbeing during his time in the arena.

“I’m never letting you go again,” y/n declared warmly. She tightened her grip around Finnick’s chest as he peered up at her at an angle from where he lay on her torso. “Snow will have to pry you from my dead arms. No one is going to hurt you anymore Finnick,” she spoke protectively.

“Hmm,” Finnick hummed as he inched his way up. He kissed her head lightly before lowering himself back down to use her as a pillow. “Don’t talk like that, honey,” he scolded lovingly. “I’m not losing you either.” He closed his eyes as he turned so his cheek was pressed up against her chest. “We’ll finish this out together, that’s the only option. Okay?”

“Okay,” y/n agreed quietly as she hugged Finnick tightly. “Now, sleep, my love. I'll keep you safe."

Y/n woke abruptly as she felt her husband tossing around beside her in bed. Her eyes snapped opened as she heard his whispered cries. A frown instantly formed on her face as she quickly sat up and turned to face Finnick. She softly shook him. “Finnick.. It’s me, it’s y/n. It's okay, it was just a dream." When his eyes finally opened, they were wide and watery as they analyzed their bedroom. “You're not there, Finnick. You're home, you're safe,” she promised, being able to read his worries without needing any verbal explanation as to what he’d been afraid of.

“Fuck, I …,” Finnick winced slightly, hating that he’d cursed in front of his dear wife. He was also so proper around her, declaring she was too precious to hear such profanities. But tonight he couldn’t help it. He felt horrible for having woken her. He knew how tired she’d been from sleepless nights as she waited for him to return. She should be asleep… not taking care of him and his nightmares. He knew she didn’t mind, she’d helped him through similar ones countless times before. But still, she should be resting. “I’m sorry.., I didn’t… I was back at the-,” he began rambling quietly.

Y/n nodded quickly and squeezed his clammy hand. “It’s okay, I know sweetheart,” she cut him off so he didn’t feel he needed to explain himself. “What do you need? What can I do for you right now Finny?”

Finnick’s shiny eyes lifted to meet his wife’s compassionate face and he gave her a timid smile. “I just want to be held for a little while. I’ve missed your touch,” he murmured.

Y/n smiled warmly and opened her arms. “Come here baby,” she instructed as she pulled Finnick to her chest.

Finnick shuffled down the bed so he could rest his head back on y/n’s chest. Like he’d done hours ago, before he’d moved to her side so they could sleep. “Like I expected, you're much comfier than my pillow,” he muttered softly as he nuzzled into her.

Y/n grinned and craned her neck in order to kiss Finnick’s scalp.

Finnick’s fingers played with the material of y/n’s sleep top. “D-do you mind if we stay like this for a little longer?” He questioned hesitantly. He wanted her to sleep, but he really needed this.

“We can stay like this as long as you want sweetheart.”

Finnick hummed in relief and snuggled against y/n further. His eyes began to become heavy again, but he kept blinking to stay awake.

“I'll protect you. They've never going to touch you again,” y/n promised, playing with Finnick’s hair the way he adored and always seemed to soothe him. As she noticed his eyes looking tired, she slowed her combing movements slightly. “Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. You'll be all right, no one can hurt you now”.

Y/n futilely tried to pull her muscular husband away from the cracked door. They’d been on their daily walk when they passed by the mission center which happened to have it’s door slightly parted. However, it was what had been playing on the screen inside the room and the sounds it caused to float into the hallway that caught Finnick’s attention. The crew in the mission center had seemingly been reviewing various clips from the latest games. Unfortunately, it turned out they happened to be passing by just as Mag’s death began to play.

“No,” Finnick argued weakly against y/n’s attempts to pull him away. “I deserve to watch this,” he croaked. “I caused it, I need to live with the pain of that”.

Y/n gritted her jaw and furrowed her brows. She had to keep her anger in check. She wasn’t mad at Finnick, just at his statement. Her precious husband didn’t deserve any of the atrocities he’d had to endure. “You've suffered through enough,” y/n declared firmly but kindly, pulling her husband’s head to her shoulder. She whispered loving words to him as she lead them down the hall and back to their room.

As they reached the doorway to their bedroom, Finnick pulled back. His eyes were red and dripping, lips in a deep frown, and nose scrunched. “I also failed before the games, I didn’t make sure you had a safety plan in place,” he argued.

“Finnick, you had Haymitch make sure I was picked up and taken here, too District Thirteen before the games even began, for my safety,” y/n argued. “Besides, sweetheart, that’s not your job. And I’m fine, please don’t burden yourself with that”.

Finnick shook his head. “I should’ve found a way to tell Mags the plan,” he sighed. “I should’ve found a way out of letting Snow sell my body,” he added. “Katniss had me in her crosshairs early on, I didn’t train enough after the last games”. “I promised you that I’d never let you down but I did”.

”Finnick Odair,” y/n gasped. “Look at me.” Once he finally met her gaze, she presented him with a small smile and a tight hug. “I'm so proud of you”. She shook her head inside the crook of his neck. “Seriously, none of those things are true or your fault”. “You have always had so many things working against you, Finnick. I’ve always been so proud of you, even without taking that into account. But you need to. I’m so proud of you baby, you did what you had to do and came back to me! I know it wasn’t easy by any means,” she hummed, “but you did it. I didn’t lose you. And that’s because of you. I’m so proud. I’m infinitely sorry you had to go through all of that, but I’m so proud of you coming home to me”.

Finnick whimpered appreciatively and pulled y/n closer to him. He’d missed this. He’d needed her. He never wanted to be apart from her ever again. His sweet wife was his everything. If he had her, he’d be able to heal from his pain of the latest games.

"We don't have to talk about it right now, but I'm here if or when you want to,” y/n offered quietly as she and Finnick sat at the table for a late lunch. They’d been eating when someone who had passed by mentioned something to their friend about the latest games. Y/n had noticed the way Finnick tensed immediately. She figured he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet, but wanted him to know he could whenever he was.

Y/n had been correct. Finnick hadn’t been ready yesterday afternoon to talk about his experiences in the arena this past time. But, tonight he seemingly was. It was brought up unexpectedly, but she was pleased he felt comfortable and stable enough to begin talking about it.

Finnick had expressed several thoughts about his experiences in the arena when a question came to his tired mind. “Did… Did you watch?” He asked quietly as y/n helped him undress due to his fatigued state. He watched as she hesitated in her movements for a split-second.

“Yeah,” Y/n admitted quietly. She lifted Finnick’s shirt over his head and tossed it towards the bin. “I… didn’t really want to,” she admitted, “I hated that you had to go, to do that all again”. She sighed and her fingers trailed down to help him step out of his jeans. “But I needed to know you were okay,” she explained slowly, “and I wanted to be able to understand what you went through.,. As much as possible that is, of course…” She helped hold him steady as he removed his pants. “That way if you didn’t want to talk about it or needed someone to understand slightly more than I would’ve without watching it…,” she rambled.

Finnick turned to face y/n, a tender smile on his lips. “You..,” he shook his head, “sugar, you’re far too sweet, you didn’t need to put yourself through that. But I appreciate you doing so and being so considerate of my potential needs to begin with”. He kissed her forehead delicately.

As Finnick began to try to help y/n undress for the night, she shook her head lovingly and stopped him. He was so exhausted. He didn’t need to help her tonight. “I’ve got it baby, you’re tired,” she spoke softly.

“I want to,” Finnick argued quietly, “if you’re okay with that! I don’t-”.

Y/n nodded quickly to silence Finnick’s worries. “I am, Finny. Just don’t want you overdoing it,” she mused, kissing his cheek.

Finnick hummed and resumed his efforts to help y/n out of her day clothes. “Is there… was there anything you saw that you want to talk about?” He asked.

Y/n hesitated for a moment. But, upon meeting Finnick’s genuinely curious eyes, she sighed. “…l heard you crying my name,” she said, thinking back to the moment she’d watched her husband crumple to the floor of the arena in agony.

Finnick gave y/n a sympathetic smile, sensing her worry and needless guilt. “I just needed to hear your voice, to know you weren’t actually hurt,” he explained. “I know they were fake. But.. you were…? You’re alright?”

Y/n nodded and grabbed Finnick’s hands from her shoulder and squeezed them. “I was just upset I couldn’t be there to reassure you I was fine,” she informed him. “But, I wasn’t hurt. Do you want to tell me about what it was like, babe? Get it off your chest?"

Finnick looked away as he began to cry. “S-sorry,” he murmured quietly in apology. “I shouldn’t be... I shouldn’t be crying. I.. I’m stronger than that… I’m sorry honey… I…”

“Finn,” y/n cooed. She let go of his hands and moved hers to cup his face and guide it towards her. When his eyes met hers, she gave him n a sweet smile. “Sweetheart, you never need to apologize to me. Ever. And, certainly not for crying…”.

Finnick nodded and melted into his wife’s embrace. “I… I thought it was real,” he began. “I… they copy… and it was your voice. I know it! It was so accurate! I…,” he shook, prompting y/n to rub his back soothingly. “I thought they’d hurt you.. that The Capitol.,. Snow…,” He trailed off.

“I think.. I thought about that a bunch too,” y/n murmured. “I think those sounds were made using by mixing up and splicing recordings from my games years ago, Finny.”

“I should’ve known that,” Finnick scolded himself. “I’m,” he sniffled as more tears escaped his eyes. He knew she might be watching the games and hadn’t wanted y/n to see him break down the way he had in that moment. He’d promised her he’d be strong and make it back to her. Yet all it took was some old audio clips and he’d shattered. He couldn’t deny the heartbreak he’d felt hearing her screams and cries. But he should’ve held it together. “I’m sorry.. I should’ve been stronger than that, I-“.

“No, Finnick. No,” y/n argued protectively. She leaned up and kissed his nose. “I don’t need you being strong all the time. I just need you. Vulnerabilities and all. Because that’s the real you, that’s all of you. And I love the whole real you.” She grinned as a bashful smile formed on her husband’s lips. “It’s all over now, Finny. No more having to pretend to be someone else for the cameras. You can just be yourself from now on. Just my wonderful Finnick Odair,” she cooed. As he leaned into her, she paid attention to his tears. She continued to sweetly dry them as she whispered loving words. After a few minutes, he’d stopped crying and was just resting in her embrace. “Fin, it's so good to have you home,” she whispered.

“I missed this,” Finnick confessed quietly.

“So did I.”

“You’re my happy place.”

“Don’t get cheesy on me,” y/n teased as Finnick stepped back so they could resume getting into bed for the night.

“I was away from you too long,” Finnick defended simply. “I gotta make up for the missed chances to flirt with my beautiful wife,” he winked, smirking as y/n looked away flustered.

“What can I do for you right now Finnick?” Y/n questioned as she faced him and saw his tears had returned.

“All I want is your lips against mine right now,” Finnick informed y/n. His cheeks turned brighter and brighter red until they matched the color of his teary eyes. “It sounds stupid, but I want to also physically feel your love-” he attempted to explain, feeling he needed to justify his request.

However, y/n didn’t need any reason to kiss her sweet husband. She quickly slid her hands into his hair on the back of his head and pulled him in for a deep kiss.

Both y/n and Finnick cried quietly into the kiss as they moved impossibly closer to each other. It had been far too long since they felt this secure and untroubled over the other. When they pulled back, they instinctively rested their foreheads against each other’s, staring at one another. “I love you,” they whispered at the same time as they felt a small piece of their broken hearts begin to repair.

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[poraphia]

“PDA: Public Displays of Affection”

pairing • secret relationship!wilbur x reader 1448 words • 9.1.23 containing • secret relationship, sorry boys production, immense affection my masterlist ~! ღ mrs. mania ღ on Tumblr

“We’re about to film a new Sorry video. Want to give me a good luck kiss first?”

♡♡♡

There’s one thing about Tom Simons that everybody knows the moment you click on one of his videos.

Some viewers may find him annoying at first,

And frankly, it’s not like he’s wrong.

After Wilbur and I started dating we came to an agreement to keep our relationship a secret. There were a multitude of reasons for this. For one, we wanted to enjoy the relationship for ourselves and because of Wilbur’s music and streaming career, it would have been impossible to relish in such when there are hundreds of thousands of eyes on you. This leads to our next reason. Most of Wilbur’s friends are streamers, vloggers, gamers, you name it. That being said, most of the time we find cameras on us already. So, in order to keep up with our special secret, we tell our friends that we’re not dating so that it’s a much easier job keeping it on the down low.

So what happens when a younger boy who considers himself Wilbur’s brother constantly sees a woman constantly with Wilbur? Well, you’ll see for yourself.

I’m known to be Wilbur’s co-filmer and editor in his fanbase, meaning that even if we weren’t dating, I had to be constantly around him to help out with video planning and creating a digital diary as he was on tour. This week his friends were all coming to Brighton to shoot Chapter 2 for their Sorry! improv group.

It was the morning of, and I was met by the familiar, warming embrace of his arms slithering around my body. I scoot back a little bit, feeling his heartbeat steadily beat against my back. “Hey, are you awake?” He groggled out in a raspy morning face. I hummed in response, taking one of his hands to kiss the center of his palm. He pulled me closer to his chest as the fabric beneath us crinkled.

“I’m so sleepy…” I mumbled. With his hand, Wilbur smoothed my cheek, caressing my skin. I melted in his touch.

“I know, but we have to get up soon, darling,” He whispered. Gently, with his arm still wrapped around me, he sat us up in the bed. The morning sun peaked through the slightly open blinds, decorating our skin with streaks of light. He buried his face into the crook of my neck as the drowsiness slowly drained from me. His arms kept firmly around my torso, holding me as close as he could. Once we felt ready to get out of bed, we walked into the kitchen as I prepared a quick breakfast for the both of us.

“Do you want strawberry parfait for breakfast, my love?” I asked, looking inside the fridge.

“Yes, please.” He smiled. I nodded before grabbing the container of syrupy strawberries and Greek yogurt. Wilbur went inside the pantry to find the box of graham crackers. After he finished crushing them, he noticed me standing on my tippy toes to reach for the two glasses on the highest shelf. With a cheeky smirk, he walked behind me and lifted me up by the waist, earning a slight eep of surprise. Nonetheless, I was able to reach the glasses before he placed me back down with my feet touching the cold tile floor. I turned around, awarding him with a quick peck on the chin, before continuing on making our breakfast.

Sometimes, it was painful keeping this a secret, but I think it’s what makes moments like these more special.

Once we finished our breakfast and got dressed, we met up with the rest of the guys at a park in Brighton. Today’s film idea was to run a hotdog van of some kind, but instead, call them burgers. Honestly, don’t ask me, it was the guys’ idea. Most of the guys carpooled to the location, whereas Wilbur and I decided to take our own car. After some time walking to the park, we were both ambushed by Tommy and Charlie, who were already flopping around in hotdog costumes.

“WILBUR! (Y/N)! MY FRIENDS!” Tommy exclaimed, hugging the two of us. Wilbur pulled Tommy to the side, almost putting him in a headlock as they shared their own brotherly love. I hugged Charlie before stepping back to examine his outfit.

“You look… Meaty. You been working out?” I joked. He grinned before flexing one of his arms.

“Ah, so you’ve noticed my meaty and tender gains I see! I’ve been working on these babies just for this exact moment.” He said pridefully. Charlie flexed one of his muscles before kissing his bicep. I rolled my eyes before we both trailed back to the rest of the group. I greeted the rest of the team and even hugged Kristen to catch up with her since we last saw each other. Tommy and Wilbur then ran up to the group promptly as Russ explained exactly how the food truck was going to work. After some careful instructions, the film crew, which involved me, were told who was to record what. Per usual, I was directed to film Wilbur’s shenanigans.

“Alright, is everyone ready?” Russ asked, looking up from his clipboard. Everyone exclaimed their noises of agreement. I looked over to Will, who I noticed was patting down his pockets for something.

“Will, you okay?” Phil asked as he adjusted the scarf around his neck.

“Yeah, I just— I think I left my wallet. Uhh (y/n) can you come with me? It’s probably in the car.” He said, looking over to me.

“Oh— Yeah, sure.” I handed my camera to Russ in the meantime before walking with Wilbur to the car. I kept my hands in my pockets in the meantime to resist the urge to walk with fingers intertwined. It was far too dangerous now.

Once we made it to the car, I reached into my pocket to unlock it, but in return Wilbur just stood there, smiling at me. I tilted my head, a bit confused.

“Weren’t you going to go look for your wallet?” I asked. Instead, Will leaned on the car, smiling down at me with his chef’s hat a bit lopsided and his arms crossed.

“I actually did have my wallet. I just wanted to have a good luck kiss before we started filming.” He smiled. I rolled my eyes before grabbing him by the shirt collar so that he was now at my height.

“You know you can be annoying sometimes.” I scoffed, but a wide smile was plastered all over my face.

“I know. I just miss you.”

I placed a quick peck on his lips, but before I could pull away, Wilbur held me gently by the neck to keep me in place. Slowly, I felt my body melting by the touch of his soft lips as butterflies danced on my skin. I wrapped my arms around his neck, moving me closer to him. Tiny droplets soon started to drizzle down on us, but we weren’t leaving each other's lips anytime soon. That was until someone caught us.

“Wilbur? (y/n)? Guys it’s starting to rain and— OH MY GOD!”

We both immediately pushed each other away, only to meet with the shocked face of Tommy standing paralyzed in his hot dog outfit.

“OH MY GOD YOU GUYS ARE DATING! I KNEW IT. I FUCKING KNEW IT—”

“I— Uh— Tommy—!” I was rendered speechless as the poor boy rapidly glanced at the both of us. Wilbur ended up breaking the standstill as he walked up to Tommy, placing two hands firmly at his shoulders.

“Yes, me and (y/n) are dating.” He said firmly. “You’re not going to tell anyone, my boiled hotdog boy, alright?” All Tommy could do was nod in response, his mouth still open ajar. Wilbur patted him on the back before heading in the direction of the food truck. I jogged over to Tommy, shaking his shoulder a bit to snap him out of his thoughts. He turned to look at me, a hand running through his hair. I shrugged, a half-apologetic smile on my face before we both walked back to the park.

“To be fair, the reason I was so shocked was because last month I tried to set you two up on a date.” Tommy mentioned nonchalantly, playing with his fingers as he walked.

I chuckled a little bit. “That’s kind of funny—” until the realization hit. “WAIT HUH?”

♡♡♡

a / n ~ thought this was cute so I jotted it down like a couple mins before waking up lolol. Reblogs and likes are super appreciated mwahh

[doublel27]

We Are: Queer Found Family and Romance

Or the meta I didn’t intend to write.

It’s taken 9 eps (of me admittedly watching We Are through gifs and clips on Twitter, because I have yet to pay for iQIYI and I am bad at grey watching) but I think I have figured out the central conflict/plot of We Are and why the mostly linear narrative of Phum and Peem with the in media res relationships of our other three pairings made this impossible to fully tease out until we got all the pieces.

The through line that connects all of these stories about how incredibly hard it can be to be part of a queer friend group when the lines of friendship and romance blur, especially when there’s a real aspect of found family to that group.

Two things really cemented it for me this week: Tan telling the gang (and therefore the audience) the full scope of his background with Fang, as well as the beginning of Phuwin’s IG live where he talks about why he likes Kluen as a character is that he’s very direct with people he likes and isn’t blurring the lines between friends and possibly fucking up the friendship.

Because that’s the central problem that all four main couples of the show grapple with in different ways. I’m gonna get into all of that under the cut.

I’m going to start with Tan and Fang because aou contains multitudes and is my beloved while going for Fang could have always messed up his relationship with Phum, we find out in episode 9 that Tan met Fang first. Unsurprisingly, it’s not a great first meeting between what are seemingly two known fighters of what appear to be rival high schools. But then Tan finds Phum and Fang being jumped by a group from his own high school and saves them and eventually becomes friends with them sometime two years+ before the start of our story. Within this time, Tan falls so far in love with Fang, who can both out bitch and out fight, him that Tan goes full simp instead and cuts out the fighting(love that for him).

And mixing his reveal to his friends of how he met Fang and how Fang eventually consumed his waking thoughts to the point he would wish to order Fang as a pizza topping (my love for Tan is immeasurable).

But take us back to episode 2 (which is now on YouTube for US watchers for how long I don’t know) and Tan has clearly not seen Fang in awhile. He asks Phum to invite Fang out where Tan will happen to be. At the time, it was taken as Tan and Phum are university friends and Tan and been obsessed with Fang ever since and needs Phum to make the connections. But the clues that Tan and Fang were also close were already laid down. Their exchange goes:

Tan: Hey. It’s been awhile. Right?

Fang: I thought you were dead.

Tan: Come on. I haven’t seen you in ages either. (That’s the English translation, but the flow of the conversation connotes that Fang hasn’t sought him out either)

At which point Phum makes the face he always makes when Tan is in Fang hyperfocus mode of looking away and sighing. And Fang pointedly asks why Phum invited him out and what is going on.

Which is a weird exchange when you think Tan is Phum’s friend who is obsessed with Fang. It is a less weird exchange between friends that have been avoiding each other for an unspecified amount of time. And we can assume Tan started avoiding Fang because he was madly in love with him and didn’t know how to handle it and didn’t tell Fang why he was avoiding him.

In the episode 9 speech to his friends, Tan outlines that he didn’t think Fang would ever reciprocate his feelings (that it was impossible) and didn’t want to fuck with the friendship (at which point Pun sends a longing look to Chain but we’ll get back to that later) with Fang and Phum and he buried it. Until he couldn’t live with it any longer and decided to do something about it.

Which with the limited information we have, his feelings were already fucking with his friendship. He already didn’t know how to approach Fang because of his feelings at the start of the show, so is it better to not try and hope the romantic feeling dies while avoiding your friend or shoot your shot and maybe get a boyfriend out of it or maybe continue to fuck up your friendship. Tan chooses to roll the dice and it’s clear from the moment they leave the bar in episode two that Fang likes him back.

They both watch each other when they think the other isn’t looking. Fang is the one who sends Phum and Peem home together and sets himself up with a taxi ride with Tan. It’s particularly interesting to me after episode 9, this exchange, because Fang looks at a passed out Peem, mouths Peem? And proceeds to ask Phum if this is the guy that hit him while Tan snickers and Peem looks like the saddest wet cat. It’s only after the affirmative from Phum that Fang is essentially like “well, you can take him home Phum. Take home your drunk friend who hit you and I will go home with Tan.” Which our besotted Tan jumps at.

And considering the parallel between Tan and Fang meeting and Tan immediately sassing him and Fang throwing a punch leading to a fight, and Phum ruining Peem’s painting which led to mutual sassing and a kick to the nuts and a fight…I don’t know if Fang is a mastermind and connected the dots because these brothers need someone who will occasionally not be afraid talk back if need be and sees the potential for Phum to care as much about Peem as Fang does for Tan. Or if he just wants time alone with Tan and doesn’t see it. Look, I wouldn’t be surprised if Fang is secretly a long game mastermind.

Once they’re alone, Tan and Fang steal glances and flirt in the way that Tan makes very loud attempts at flirting and

Additionally, Fang is reserved like Phum, and seemingly as isolated as his only friends seem to be Phum’s friends. We don’t know if he is just not paying attention to other members of the architecture faculty or knows stuff about Kluen he won’t share. As previous parts of this narrative are folded in later episodes, we may find out. What we do know is he’s either ever only appeared alone or in connection to Tan and Phum and Phum’s friends. Even with the flashbacks, Tan points out that the head of the Fang, head of cheer club, approaches him alone and later it’s just Fang and Phum when Tan finds the group of guys jumping them. We know he and Phum adopt Toey who is bullied in high school. It makes sense why he’s potentially reserved about pushing things with Tan if Tan becomes his first real high school+ friend that he has outside of his brother.

Which is why by the time we get to episode 5, Fang says yes before Tan finishes talking. He’s been waiting but also wasn’t willing to be the first to put himself out there. And considering how much Fang and Phum seem to live in their heads and not in the world with everyone else, I can see why he needed Tan to be the one to commit to it first, especially with Fang’s later comments about not understanding why hanging out with him is a preference of Tan’s. I do hope we cross his “don’t tell tan how gone I am on him” bridge later in the narrative. Cause I think Tan knows, but also it’s nice to hear.

Let’s go back to another long-suffering pair where only one half really knew why they were suffering, and the other got a nasty shock, QToey.

I know the guys are all team if Toey loves Q and Q loves Toey then why is Q so hesitant? And I get it, but let’s talk about the double shock Q suffered and the potential layers of risk Q is facing.

It’s not just that Q is cautious with his heart. That is a factual truth. It’s why he ghosted Milk Frappe Boy, because while he fell in love with Milk Frappe Boy I think there was a deep worry, and a self esteem issue that the reality of Q, instead of Pencil Senior, would not be enough for Milk Frappe boy. So Q bolted and then deeply regretted said bolting enough say so to both Toey, not knowing the truth, and to Peem.

But the fact that he learned that Toey was indeed Milk Frappe boy at the same time he learned all of his best friends, his family for all intents and purposes, also knew and no one told him. And the way the confrontation is staged between Q and Toey, it is Q against Toey and everyone else is behind Toey.

And that, friends, that’s the real third rail for Q.

It’s one thing to know that he loved Milk Frappe Boy and that he loves Toey. And that is scary enough. The fandom loves to joke about how Toey is everyone’s little brother and they’ve all adopted him: and that is a correct assessment. But that means if Q fucks it up with Toey, he stands a chance in his mind of everyone else choosing Toey over him.

That fear doesn’t even feel that unfounded when everyone calmed Toey down mostly before Peem, Q’s true bestest friend, came out to be with him. Like Peem caught Toey before going after Q. The next episode nearly every character but Q (aside from Fai who is at all connected to this group) shows up to plan how to support Toey in getting Q.

And while I know my brain cell-less brain trust fully believe they’re helping Q, no one actually seems to ask what Q wants. Aside from Peem trying to get him to come to some that first night on the curb, no one ever asks. And that night all Q wants is to sleep in a pile with his four best friends, because that’s his family. Losing them is even scarier than losing Toey. In essence he’s lost Milk Frappe Boy once. He could do it again. But if they chose Toey…IDK.

We don’t know anything about their families really, aside from Peem’s lovely aunt and the fact that Phum doesn’t get along with his dad. And I get why when the focus is really on these large groups of found families (that are becoming one large found family) that the audience is really in love with. The bonds between the friends are just as much a part of the romance as the actual romances. Because the friendship is where the complications come from.

And while I can’t speak to mlm spaces, as I have never identified as a man, within queer wlw and non-binary spaces there are jokes about dating yourself out of friend groups. There are people you used to know who you don’t anymore because you dated someone in the friend group and were too new and got bounced. Or you date and the way it ends make everyone choose one side. Or, a person in the friend group has a crush on another person in said group, that is an open secret but when the person who was crushed upon gets a new relationship people get mad at them for not dating the person in the friend group who liked them all along because didn’t everyone know. (None of these are from personal experience I assure you 🙃)

And it doesn’t always happen like that. Sometimes the people figure out a friendship or a queer platonic solution when they’re not attracted to each other anymore. Sometimes they orbit around the friend group like two comets on opposite trajectories, occasionally crossing in awkward moments. Sometimes everyone gets past the weird. Sometimes no one does.

But that’s the risk that we’re playing in this show. I can choose the romance, but if it doesn’t work out, I am gambling this safe zone.

Which is gonna bring me to our last two pieces of this: one has had the most development and one the least but both are struggling.

I’m gonna start with Chain and Pun who are the most unhinged, gay yearning codependent besties that exist in the middle of the week and give Potae and Payos on Only Boo a real run for their money. (Both have lips touching earlobes and I don’t have a platonic answer for either) The thing is, I think both Chain and Pun are very aware of the mutual feelings. They both have moments where you know they’re aware but neither will do anything about it. And they are in the case of the story, the most embedded in one single friend group, and have the potential to explode their core group of five if things go sideways.

Now, they’re also the pair that has been effectively dating this entire time without actually dating. The ear biting and the blowing on things in the other’s mouth and the…I don’t have platonic explanations for their behavior okay? I don’t. Not naming it keeps it from being real though. It’s a collective hallucination or the biggest game of chicken.

Eventually, though, one of them is going to cross the line in a way that can’t be erased or the line redrawn. And it’s gonna have to be big because their friends watched them gaze longingly into each other's eyes for 20+ seconds and thought it was normal. Because this is how they are.

And that brings us to not quite friends not quite lovers and not quite enemies, Phum and Peem. The risk is, as discussed in many other metas, mostly on Phum’s side here and it’s why he spent the episode so hesitant. Yes he started off particularly entitled and rude. His and Peem’s relationship started as a fight (but so did Tan and Fang) and Phum feels incredibly comfortable with Peem. He’s definitely neurodivergent coded my Phum, which doesn’t make his assholery okay, but it explains his hesitancy to try new things and his struggle with making friends and expressing his feelings.

He’s got friends but he doesn’t feel particularly deeply connected to them. Yes, Beer makes time for him and actively seeks him out to give advice. He and Fang have a level of sibling codependency that hints at neglect and Fang protecting Phum at all costs. We see Tan approach Phum most of the time and while some of that is angling to get to Fang, Tan does genuinely care. But Tan is also incredibly loud which seems to be a lot for our neurospicy Phum, and Tan also has his large found family with Peem. Same with Toey, who Phum and Fang adopted long ago, and clearly Phum adores him, but he’s also the little brother of the art faculty.

And Peem is a very loving and giving soul and he makes time and space for Phum even though he’s annoying and high handed and gets Phum out of his ruts and comfort zones. And Phum clearly wants Peem to choose him, because Phum has already chosen even if he hasn’t said “I like you and want to date you.” He’s said other very direct things about how safe he feels with Peem and how connected he feels to other people by hanging out with Peem. And Peem is this safe space for him to go out and connect with the world without it being overwhelming and he even feels more connected to his own friends.

And that’s the danger that Kluen represents and what Phum struggles with. He wants Peem to choose him, but he also doesn’t want to force Peem to make a choice and not choose him, and then lose out on the experiences he’s building with Peem as well as a break in some of the connections he has with the people closest to him as Fang and Toey find love within Peem’s group. And so again, the question comes around, is it better to stay in this limbo where no one says anything and maybe Peem dates Kluen but I get to keep him as a friend, or do I roll the dice like Tan and maybe win.

I think it’s been a hard thread to pull because without the context of Tan & Fang meeting first, and Phum and Peem mending their relationship to become something akin to friends who kiss sometimes and don’t talk about it, and the lingering feelings of betrayal for Q by his friends (where they learned about his largest secret/mystery and NO ONE TOLD HIM) which are later revelations in the course of the show, they feel like different types of love stories without the mess of friendship blurring the lines. The story feels linear, because we start in a school year with the meeting of Phum and Peem, the connections between the other characters are older than this year, leaving some of their stories in media res.

And it’s an interesting core struggle taking a risk when the line between who you’re friends with, who you depend on, and who you’re attracted to blurs and the potential for rifts in your safety net are everywhere. It’s not the first show with this as a central tangle nor is it specific to queer television. But the reality of the deep ties that can exist within queer friendships and how they form deep supportive communities makes the stakes higher. And that’s why the friendships are developed nearly as much if not more than some of the romances. That’s where a lot of the risk lies for these characters.

Anyway, that’s nearly 3K of thoughts I didn’t know I had in me about We Are until today. But here we are.

[hayakawalove]

A Man In Love

A/N: I wrote a version of how Suguru shows his love as well, that one was called "Love". This one will be about Gojo! I can't get enough of poly satosugu. It's just the best to me.

Summary: Satoru Gojo wants to love and to be loved. It's a good thing he has you and Suguru.

TW: Fem reader, a couple of dirty jokes

W/C: 2,873

Golden rays pour in through the parted blinds, heating up a sliver of Satoru’s exposed tummy. He had been awake for the past hour, but he dreaded the idea of leaving the warmth of your shared bed. If he cracked his eyes open he could see his two lovers tangled together, limbs crossing over limbs. Your light snores filled the room, making Satoru’s lips split into a soft grin. He teased that you sounded like an old man when you slept, your snores could wake the whole neighborhood! 

He actually loved the sound though. It reminded him that you were here, right beside him. 

Satoru carefully pulls himself from the sheets, being attentive to not wake you or Suguru. Both of you had a late night, not that that was anything new. You two were night owls compared to Satoru. He much preferred to get an early start to his day while both of you could stay up all night if given the chance. He stretches his long arms above his head, his shirt riding up slightly. There was a list of things he wanted to get done before waking the two of you, so he better get started. 

He exits the bedroom and strides into the living room, noticing the remnants of your love strewn across the room. A blanket Suguru had gotten you tossed haphazardly across the couch, candy that Satoru had gotten Suguru lay on the coffee table, and pants you ordered Satoru sat folded on the bar. He was sure Suguru folded them, he was like that. 

Satoru pads around sleepily, getting dishes out of the way first. He moves around the kitchen doing a multitude of tasks, feeling energy begin to spread across his body. He was super excited for the day he had planned ahead of you three. No one would be caught up in work so it was perfect. He could hardly contain the excitement, images of your and Suguru’s happy faces filling his brain. Satoru briefly cleans the coffee maker and remembers how you refused to let him indulge in it. 

Coffee? Satoru, we don’t need you caffeinated, that would be a nightmare. 

He supposed you were right, not that he needed it today. 

After getting all tasks out of the way he crept back into the room and saw you and Suguru cuddled in together. You pressed yourself against his torso, his strong arm wrapped around you. 

“Come on sleepy heads.” Satoru tries to keep his voice soft. 

Suguru’s brows furrow, tugging you closer to his body. You turn your head and bury it into Suguru’s chest, trying to block out Satoru. 

“I know you guys are up.” Satoru murmurs and walks over to the edge of the bed, reaching out to grab your foot. 

You inhale sharply, yanking your foot up, tucking it against you. 

“Keep your cold grubby paws to yourself.” You mumble against Suguru. 

Satoru thinks he catches a glint of a smile on Suguru.

Had Suguru always been so ethereal? Of course he had. Satoru was just amazed by it every single time.  

“How mean!” Satoru sighs loudly, and flops onto the bed. 

He wriggles his way up in between you two, forcing himself in. 

“And on our anniversary too, no less.” 

Not even a second later you're scrambling away, reaching for your phone to check the date. Satoru looks up at Suguru and sees his lids open slightly, a peek of caramel gracing Satoru.  

Satoru looks micheviously at the other man, waiting for your reaction. 

“It’s not our anniversary!” You groan, falling back into bed. 

“Is too! Anniversary of our first date.” Satoru snides back, and wraps his arms around Suguru. 

Suguru breathes through his nose and closes his eyes again, a finger strumming against Satoru’s arm. He was used to his antics by now, and knew the one thing Satoru craved was a reaction. He refused to give in that easily. 

You murmur under your breath while wiping the tiredness from your eyes. Satoru soaks up the feeling of contentment seeping in the air. 

There was nowhere he’d rather be than right here in this bed with you. 

“Plus I have a day planned. So you need to get up and get ready to go, I’ll time you.”

“Satoru.” Suguru chides. 

You slide back down and reach a hand up across Satoru, patting around until you reach Suguru’s mouth. You keep it clamped over him while situating yourself. 

“Don’t talk to him, maybe he’ll leave us alone if we pretend we're asleep.” 

Satoru clicks his tongue and jostles you. 

“Come on! I promise it’ll be fun!” He rolls away from Suguru and crawls on top of you, pressing kisses against your neck. 

You try to shove him back unsuccessfully, wanting sweet sleep to over take you once more. Suguru slides out of the bed once he realizes Satoru won’t let up. He stretches and watches Satoru’s onslaught against you, sleepy gaze trained on you two. 

You eventually start to giggle underneath Satoru. 

His heart may burst if you laugh like that. 

You never could resist him. Suguru reaches out and grabs the back of Satoru’s shirt. 

“Come on, we might as well entertain him for a little bit.” 

It takes you both far too long to get ready, Satoru decides. He’s about to crawl out of his skin at your slow pace. You and Suguru move in sync getting ready for the day. Satoru can hardly keep his hands to himself, the peak of it showing through once he offered to help you shower. You slammed the door in his face, leaving him to pout. 

Once you finish showering, without his help, you exit the bathroom with hints of your soap filling the air. 

Satoru watches you, with his brain fogging up. 

Fuck, he loves you two. 

And he knows you both love him as well. Your love never failing to strike him. There was never a time in his life when he felt such love from other people. Admired, sure, but never love. 

There were many things about him that changed once you came into his life. For instance, Satoru had never been so selfish before, not until you. Now he found himself wanting more, all the time, unabashedly. Maybe that was something he liked about you two. You allowed him to want. He was never granted that privilege before. Then again there were many things he liked about you. 

Satoru knew for a fact that there were less stars in the sky than things he liked about you. 

He liked how Suguru’s hair hung in curtains around his broad shoulders. 

He liked how your eyebrows shot up everytime he spoke. 

He liked how Suguru had endless bouts of love. 

He liked how your fingers tugged his a little tighter when the world outside was silent and no one existed but you three. 

Warmth drips from his fingertips, if he had the option he would never let go of either of you.

Funny, that was. Satoru didn’t remember being filled with such warmth before you and Suguru. Had he just been an iceberg floating through life before you? 

Satoru looks up and catches your eyes, watching a small smile grace your lips. The sight sent his mind reeling. 

Did you know how deep his fingers were dug into you now that he had you? Did you know not even the gods would be able to keep him away from you two? 

He watches the way you and Suguru weave between each other, getting ready for the day. 

How mundane. 

He’s amazed at how you love him in the mundanity of life. 

So many people want him for things. And he gets it, he really does. He has a role to play. He enjoys helping. But he wants to be loved without being needed. 

Love me when I have nothing to offer. Love me despite it. 

Love me when I bring nothing to the table besides a gaping wound in my chest, my heart in my hands, trembling and tender for you. 

“Ready, handsome?” Suguru asks, a finger underneath Satoru’s chin, tilting his head up. 

Satoru blinks several times, snapping out of his amatory thoughts. 

“Huh?” He whispers. 

“You forgot already?” You say. 

Satoru clears his throat and stands up, taking you two in. 

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. 

“How could I forget!”

Satoru grabs onto you both, dragging you outside. 

“What’re we doing today?” You ask from the front seat in the car. 

Suguru’s always the designated driver, his hand resting against the wheel while his other strums against your thigh. 

Satoru shuffles in the back seat, peeking his face in between you two. 

“We’re going to the mall today! I’m gonna spoil you both, so buy whatever you want.” He grins. 

“We got ourselves a sugar daddy don’t we Suguru?” You turn your head, looking at Suguru.

“It appears so.” He says with a smile. 

His face was set in a serene look, the idea of spending the day with you both making his heart soar. 

“Aw, you wanna call me daddy?” Satoru teases, reaching his hand forward to pinch your cheeks. 

You swat him away while his laughter fills the car. 

“There’s no room back here!” He pouts and gives up, leaning back. 

His long legs try to spread out only to be blocked by the seats. 

“Poor baby. Maybe you can buy us a bigger car?” Your eyes flick up to meet his in the rear view mirror. 

“Careful darling, maybe I will.” 

His eyes wrinkle in amusement, a rush of heat spreading through your cheeks. You tear your eyes away and look out the window. 

“We could just strap you to the roof of the car and call it good.” You say, although your words have no mirth. 

“People would think I’m being kidnapped!” 

“Who would kidnap you?” Suguru teases, a hearty laugh falling past his lips. 

The mall comes into view shortly after, you and Satoru continuing to tease each other the whole time. He stands in between you both so he can hold both your hands, swinging them back and forth. Satoru decides it’s your turn first, dragging you to the nearest clothing store. 

Suguru and you take your time striding through the store while Satoru seems to make a beeline to the dresses. The idea of buying you something and seeing your smile from it made his heart strum in his ears. 

How grateful he felt to be able to spoil you. 

Once you and Suguru catch up to him, you idly flip through dresses, not finding anything particularly good. 

Suguru watches you point out several and nods, making idle comments. Satoru pulls a dress from the rack and holds it up, showing you. 

“You should get this! White, to show how pure you are.” 

He holds up a velvet white dress, his eyes bright. 

Suguru snickers beside you, pushing dresses aside to find something. 

“Good one Satoru.” 

Satoru clears his throat. Suguru had no idea the effect he had on him. Satoru loved the way his name tasted on Suguru’s lips. It always sounded a little more sweet when he was the one saying it.  

You're at a loss for words, eyes widening. You grab the dress away from Satoru. 

“You just want me to wear this cause it matches your hair!” You accuse. 

Satoru smiles and leans against the rack. You roll your eyes. 

“What about this one?” Suguru asks, pulling out a dark purple dress. 

It’s mid thigh length, with a cinched waist. It looked perfect. 

“Oh that looks so cute Suguru, how much is it?” You ask and reach for the tag. 

“Don’t worry about it!” Satoru interrupts, plucking the dress from Suguru’s hands. 

You bite your cheek and follow him to the check out line, watching as he hums to himself. Early on in your relationship you learned to never question his spending habits. Everytime you told him he didn’t have to spend money on you, he’d laugh and brush you off. 

“Will this be all sir?” The worker asks, scanning your dress. 

“Yeah!” Satoru responds happily, fishing out his credit card and passing it over. 

“That’ll be 5050.” 

“$50.50? That seems a bit expensive. Or is it? I guess I’m not sure.” You murmur to yourself. 

“My bad, I should have said it better. $5,050.” She exclaims.  

“Huh?!” You squeak out, lurching forward. 

Satoru slides behind you, throwing his arms over your shoulders to pull you back against his toned chest. 

“Hush now bunny, you’ll make a scene.” He cooes at you, waiting for the worker to insert his card. 

“As if you care about making scenes.” Suguru says incredulously. 

“Why didn’t you say anything Suguru? I'm sure you saw how expensive it was!” You fumble. 

Suguru turns his head and looks away, purposefully not making eye contact. 

He enjoyed spoiling you too, you know. 

Satoru hears you grumble to yourself while you look around the store, noticing details you hadn’t picked up on initially. There was a crystal chandelier, sleek floors, and expensive brand names plastered on the walls. You must’ve been too distracted if you were only noticing now. How cute. 

Satoru’s cotton lashes flutter down, taking your beauty in as you gaze around. 

He could stare at you all day if you let him. 

“Alright, next up Suguru!” Satoru cheers, grabbing the bag and heading towards the door. 

“He’s out of his mind, he must be.” 

Suguru links hands with you and pulls you out. 

“Yes he is.” Suguru agrees. 

You all debate over where to go for Suguru, but ultimately decide on a jewelry store. The two men lag behind, taking their time. 

Satoru watches you stroll through the store, noticing how you linger by the wedding rings. 

Soon, soon. 

He and Suguru had already known they would marry you a month into you joining their couple. They just wanted to wait a bit longer, not wanting to jump the gun. He notices how your eyes look curiously at the ornate jewelry, wondering what thoughts were going on in that pretty head of yours. 

You had nothing to fret over, he would buy you the perfect ring. And if you didn’t like it, he would buy you ten others. And if those didn’t suit your taste either, he would buy the whole damn store. Money wasn’t a concern when it came to you. It never was. 

“Hey Suguru, maybe we can get some new jewelry for your belly or your n-“ Satoru teases. 

Suguru shoves a hand up to cover his mouth, not allowing him to continue. 

“This isn’t that kind of store!” Suguru flusters. 

“It could be, maybe they have a special glass case for that.” 

You stop in front of the necklace section. 

“Satoru!” Suguru begins to lecture. 

“Excuse me, can we see this one?” You ask the attendant. 

He nods and slides the case open, pulling out a delicate silver chain. You turn around and motion for Suguru to come over. 

“Bend over.” You ask and grab the chain. 

Satoru snickers causing you to glare at him. Suguru bends over beside you in front of a mirror, lowering himself enough for you to reach around his neck. 

“What do you think?” You ask, making eye contact through the mirror. 

“It looks really nice.” Suguru says softly, slightly taken aback by how much he likes it. 

Satoru knew Suguru never really cared for jewelry before, but if you insisted on it, Satoru knew Suguru’s resolve would crumble. You had that effect. 

Did you know just how tight you held their chains? That one word from you would have them falling to their knees? 

Oftentimes Satoru wondered if you invented love. There was no other explanation. 

“We’ll take it!” Satoru says, talking to the worker. 

“I don’t even wanna know how much it is.” Suguru sighs out, watching Satoru happily pay for it. 

The drive home was much more calm, Satoru’s antsy energy from earlier seemingly contained now that he got it out of his system. 

Satoru sat behind Suguru on the bed, thumbing over the clasp on the necklace. 

“Why do they make these things so small?!” Satoru complains. 

You stand in front of them, admiring your new, expensive, dress. 

Satoru grumbles out loudly. 

“Scooch.” You murmur, sliding behind Suguru.

Satoru stubbornly allows you to take over, watching your fingers grasp on. 

Soft fingers graze over Suguru’s exposed neck, if Satoru looks closely enough he could see a thin trail of goosebumps break out over Suguru’s neck. 

He finds himself jealous at the gesture. 

Touch me too. 

“Needs the nimble fingers of femininity.” You tease. 

“What would you oafs do without me?” 

Don’t even say that, Satoru had no clue what he would do without you. 

The necklace easily latches on, a sight Satoru complains about. 

“Thank you for today Satoru.” You say, planting a light kiss on his lips. 

More, more, more. 

Satoru was like a man starved, craving your touch. 

“Of course.” Satoru’s face melts into pure joy. 

Suguru slides his hand around the back of Satoru’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss. 

“Thank you.” He breathes. 

Not even the gods could take you away.

[kairiscorner]

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

ok but imagine miggy saying you're beautiful for the first time, like,

he never realized how long he's kept it to himself, how long he's been yearning to tell you those two words, three if he wanted to emphasize his point. could you blame him? he's a complete and total mess of a man around you, maybe not outwardly, but he's a nervous wreck whenever you're around. a simple touch or a quick smile in his direction from you is enough to lighten up his whole day–give him the patience and motivation to keep bearing these troubles he has to endure throughout the day.

he never really understood why his eyes would follow you on your way out of his office, he never really noticed until lyla pointed out how his pupils would dilate and he'd watch you leave his office with an increase in serotonin when he catches a glimpse of your hair, your eyelashes, your petal-like lips that looked so, so...

"kissable?" lyla would prompt, which made miguel snap out of it, dismissing her and arguing to her that all he thinks of you is just a delightful colleague–words he never realized he was capable of using together. "right... a delightful colleague who enters your dreams every night. say, what if i made them listen to a playback of your most recent dream about them–" "that won't be necessary." "and why not? you don't even have the cojones–" "don't say that." "you don't even have the guts to tell them what you think of them."

miguel hated how right lyla was, practically all the time–especially when it came to his feelings for you. he clicked his tongue as he thought it over, with lyla pretty much just telling him, "confess, you big dork," and with him cussing under his breath as he felt a little hotter in the room as he thought more and more about you–about your smile, the way your laugh echoed in his ears as you teased him for his eternal pout–and how small your hands felt against his when you accidentally placed your hand on his... oh how he wished those moments could last forever, instead of asking lyla to play it back for him as he smiles to himself. it kept him thinking on what'd change if he told you just how he saw you, how absolutely ethereal you were to him.

guess he'll just have to try and see what happens.

the next day, you came by his office again, and you were... oh goodness, you were so adorable the way you looked right then and there. your hair was messy, you were wearing a pair of glasses that were barely hanging on to your face–you had a pencil tucked behind your ear, and a huge grin on your face as you rambled to him about a successful mission and containment of a fickle anomaly you two were hunting for the longest time.

if only miguel could bury his face in the floor right then and there–the mask could only do so much to hide how he looked like when he saw you in your element, in your truest, rawest self–the you he fell for time and time again, and continues to fall for.

as you rambled to him, miguel clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms as he realized he was smiling when he heard you get excited, heard the cracking of your voice from so much glee at your victory–hearing the passion from your voice as he listened, he listened and tried to keep his poker face on, but you were too irresistible for him to keep it up–too cute to make him want to keep this stern front up.

"you're beautiful." he blurted out as he looked down to the floor, trying to soak up the details of the floor when all he wanted was to soak up the details of you. but looking at you now would be fatal for his facade, and he wanted to let you know he... oh who was he kidding? he appreciated every bit of you! he can't hide that love and longing for you, he wanted to let you know at least one bit of the multitude of things he believed you were. if you'd let him tell you, you would never hear the end of it–because you're constantly surprising him and making him fall deeper in love with you that his love becomes... endless for you.

whether or not you believe him is up to you, but he truly does believe you are beautiful. he looks up at you finally as you stopped talking and just stared at him, with a look of embarrassment on his face as he tried to remain confident in himself as his self-assurance was dissipating. "you're really beautiful..." he repeated as he stepped forward towards you and stroked your cheek. he smiled, and widely this time. he wasn't going to hide it anymore, he loved you. he loved you and knew you were the most beautiful person he had ever, and will ever, meet in his whole life. hopefully... you believed him, and hopefully... you felt the dame way, too.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @luvstarrstruck

[ask-the-dunmeshi-biologists]

What are y'alls favorite ecosystems?

Laios: The Australian Outback is full of some of the most amazing and deadly species on the planet, with unique adaptations that are rare to find anywhere else on earth. It has some of the most incredible views, and the arid environment is always persevering and thriving in the most unexpected ways. The outback is a place of constant wonder and nostalgia for me. Ever since I was a kid, and up until recently really, I always struggled to find a place where I could fit in and be myself. Me and Falin grew up on a small Emu farm in the bush, so I spent a lot of time on the outskirts of the outback, sticking to the same paths so that I wouldn't get lost, and despite it being dangerous, as long as I was careful, it ended up providing a safe haven for me until I saved up enough to leave the country and forge my own path in the world.

Falin: Definitely Tropical Rainforests, they hold the largest number of insect species on the planet (2.5 million in the Amazon Rainforest alone!) and are endless in their importance. There are so many things left to discover in them, from hundreds of hidden cave systems, around 80,000 plant species and, along with the ocean, they act almost as the lungs of the earth, providing most of the oxygen we need to survive. Last year, Marcille and I worked with SPUN trying to map as many mychorrzial fungi as possible, in several tropical forests of South America, Africa and Australia. After a year spent buried in the undergrowth, among the ferns, moss and mulch, it's like you can feel Earth's beating heart. I would love to return to one of them soon.

Marcille: Archipelagos. Groups of islands, both tropical and temperate are my favourite places of study. Every island has it's own unique ecosystem and these multitudes of them contain the secrets of evolution, genetics and cultural changes throughout history. From animals adapting to each island and forming new species, to ethnobotany and traditions that change and adapt, stemming from when people first took to the sea, and the legacies they leave behind to this day.

Chilchuck: The Irish Countryside. Valleys, Vales or Dales, whatever you wanna call them, there's nowhere I like being more. Despite having travelled the world with Laios, Falin, Marcille, and later Senshi, there isn't much that compares to the rolling hills of home.

Senshi: Microbiomes of all habitats. People often overlook the importance of the little things, and all the good they do for us in return for leaving them be. Macrophotography has always been a large passion of mine, and I'm fortunate enough to have landed a career in capturing the beauty of it all.

[youmakemestrong]

Salutations, muskrat placenta,

Prepare yourselves, for an unparalleled storm brews on the horizon of the One Direction fandom. The Larryopocalypse is upon us, and its tidal wave of revelations will shatter the very fabric of what you believed to be true.

Behind the scenes, where shadows dance and secrets fester, an earth-shattering truth is about to be unveiled: Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles have been navigating a covert relationship, hidden from the eyes of the world. Unearthed documents and intercepted communications reveal a complex network of secret rendezvous and coded messages. Witnesses have come forward, claiming they saw the duo sharing intimate moments under the guise of "business meetings," and a trusted insider has leaked photos of them together at undisclosed locations, far removed from the public eye.

One particularly striking detail involves an encrypted set of coordinates that frequently appeared in their communications. These coordinates, when mapped, lead to a secluded property in the English countryside, where Louis and Harry reportedly spent extended periods away from prying eyes. An ex-staff member has even disclosed that this property was specifically rented for their private getaways, under an alias that cleverly concealed its true owners.

Adding to the intrigue, some of these coordinates have surfaced within anonymous texts received by devoted fans, buried amidst cryptic messages and hidden clues. These texts, once dismissed as elaborate trolling, should be reexamined as potential pieces of a much larger puzzle.

Prepare for the storm. The truth is coming, and it's bound to shake the very core of your fandom.

Provolone.

the way you call me muskrat placenta and then drop some shady ass claims is amazing. you contain multitudes anon

[generic-sonic-fan]

Happy pride! Here's some headcanons.

In-depth explanations beneath the cut (please keep in mind that these are personal and that I actually don't really stand by any that strongly! This is just for fun.)

Sonic: okay do I really need to explain this one?

Knuckles: What can I say, his gender contains multitudes. He's definitely a member of the "I don't care" camp for both gender and sexuality. He is what he is, loves who he loves, and doesn't give two rips about what other people might say. I like to imagine he plays around with both genders of clothing from echidna culture.

Amy: oh Amy, my sweet summer child. It's so autistic and queer of you to relentlessly declare your love for someone of the opposite sex because it's what is expected of you. I did the same in third grade before I realized that the other girls meant what they were saying about their target boy. Heteronormativity is a bitch, get well soon <3

Rouge: I think she fucked around with being she/they for a while before settling back on she/her. And bi icon, of course.

Blaze: okay do I really need to explain this one?

Silver: That is one nonbinary hedgehog if I ever saw one! He's a he/him by convenience alone. He hasn't had the chance to explore his sexuality yet unfortunately.

Big: He's good with he/him and that's all he cares about. Not a super strong connection to his assigned gender at birth but he likes being a boy well enough. As for his sexuality, he never figured out what everyone was going on about when it came to sex, and only recently figured out it was because he was literally missing that 'sexual attraction' thing.

Shadow: is nonbinary as fuck and has no idea. Honey, seeing masculinity as a burden you have to bear is not normal!!! He's also demi-ace. It takes a very close relationship with someone to even consider sexual attraction.

Cream: happy being a girl! Hasn't really thought about crushing on anyone yet.

Tails: Internalized homophobia + transphobia from being bullied go brrrrrr. Besides, Sonic doesn't spend much time thinking about these things, so why should he? (Tails. Tails listen to me. Sonic's aro and knew he was trans at an unusually young age. he's a statistical outlier with how early he figured it out PLEASE consider that and don't base your self-discovery journey on him. . .)

Metal: You all know my headcanons for this one. Metal was assigned male by Eggman from its earliest iterations and gender dysphoria is literally 98% of all of its problems. Please get this robot some estrogen. As for sexuality, full romantic attraction is definitely on the table but jesus christ this robot needs to do some work on itself before that. Please read Complex Inquiries if you want me to elaborate that's like my master's thesis on this subject

Vector: Gave his gender a really good thinking before shrugging and sticking with his assigned gender at birth. Also pan as hell, definitely dated some femboys in high school I think.

Espio: Currently in the process of speculating if he's nonbinary. Keeps very quiet about it though. But he knows he likes dudes, so there's that.

Charmy: He's bit-sexual. Whatever he needs to be for the punchline of the joke to land, frankly.

Omega: For narrative parallel reasons to Metal Sonic, I love to headcanon that Omega wasn't programmed with a gender, but then discovered that masculinity is traditionally associated with aggression and violence and went ham. Doesn't mind getting she/her'd, doesn't exactly like they/them, but it/its is of the highest offense. He will kill you for that. As for his sexuality, (I know he's a robot but PLEASE hear me out) he's demi-aro! He'd have no idea that any sort of feelings on his part are happening until it was too late. He'd hate himself for it and promptly bury said feelings beneath so many layers.

[neallo]

meronia containing multitudes!! would you say there are any core consistencies that you cant do without when writing or thinking about them or is everything changeable? for me I think it’s hard to imagine them not having an in some form or another but I’ve been trying to think of instances where it works when they weren’t thrown in the same pressure cooker together in one way or another even if that was somewhat later in life

hello!! this is an excellent question. let me try to opine on the matter. i will say right off the top of my head that the core appealing aspects of meronia to me are mutual obsession and deep connection / understanding of one another. even though there is also sometimes a lot of active misunderstanding / miscommunication getting in the way of that connection being fully realized. on the occasions i've tried to write AUs and they haven't worked for me, i've found that it's because one or both are absent or not obvious enough.

the pressure cooker (love this shorthand) is, i think, the quickest and most canon-adjacent pathway to developing and justifying this mutual obsession and deep understanding. i generally skew heavily towards writing canonverse (<- loosely-defined; i am including no-kira and L wins AUs in this, because they still grew up at Wammy's) because of this; i'm not much of an AU girlie in general, regardless of fandom, but i find it particularly tricky for meronia. translating that kind of connection without substantial shared experiences is challenging, and i think it's easiest for me to imagine their dynamic developing if those shared experiences occur earlier in life, though i agree that it can definitely work even if it's later, so long as it's Intense.

this being said, i can't say i have 100% stuck to The Pressure Cooker background, actually!! off the top of my head the only time i really plan to break from it is in 15 Totally Chill Ways to Flirt With Your Crush, which is a profoundly unserious college AU. because this is a sillier story, i'm not as concerned with justifying a mutual obsession-- in some ways it's more fun to me here that there really isn't a good justification for Mello to be down so bad. that being said, i would say this story sits at the limit of what i can really enjoy in terms of characterization; i consider it to be borderline OOC, if not fully OOC, but that's more feature than bug here.

trying to think what other non-negotiables there are for me. some level of care / tenderness from both sides is always essential, imo-- even if it's buried under bitterness and pain and spite, that needs to come through at least a little. i guess this is rooted in the idea of their connection being a core element of the ship, but i find their dynamic fundamentally distinct from, say, lawlight, whose most fraught dynamics involve Fucking Killing Eachother. like, L and Light have a deep connection, too, but it's very different imo. the power dynamic being complex / nuanced in some way or another also feels essential To Me. it can be extremely fun to have that balance be really uneven, but it can't be totally straightforward or i get terminally bored with the idea.

okay i think i actually just started listing pet peeves (<- had to delete a full paragraph lmao) so i'm gonna stop here. thank you sm for the ask, this was a really fun one to meditate on :3c

[antimonyantigone]

[buries the lede with my students by telling them all about Paulings antiwar activism before dropping that he promoted eugenicist tattoos]

people contain multitudes my childrens...

[princess-of-the-corner]

M̶̱͑i̴͖̊r̶͓̅ą̵̍c̴͙̽l̷̛̹e̸̡̋ ̴̳̐q̷̘͘u̸̡̓e̶̗͝ẻ̵̡ṉ̵̽.̷̱̕.̷̦̐.̷̳̄

Chloé felt the world fall away as the dark magic grabbed ahold of her. It felt... wrong, like a twisted imitation of what Hawkmoths magic was, dark as it already was.

I̶̘̋ ̷̘̉c̷͖͊a̴̳͌n̸͇̋ ̷̪̂g̵͈͆i̴̺̚v̴̧̎e̷̦͒ ̵̧̎y̶̖͑o̶̡͛ú̶̠ ̴͗ͅẃ̵͚h̴͇͌a̴̘̚t̶͓̊ ̸̝̽y̶̛̠ó̷̟ụ̴͑ ̷̲͘ẃ̸̢a̸͕͌n̷̤͂ţ̴́,̴̨̾ ̸̩̎w̶̝̽h̷̚͜ã̸͙t̶̞͆ ̴̙̽y̷̞͠o̵͈͊ǔ̷͚ ̴̙̆n̵̻͝e̸͖͊e̷͓̾d̷̞̆.̸̳͌-Y̴̧̢̲̹͂̊o̵͙̊u̷͎̟̓͌̇̓͌ ̴̗̈́̓̇n̸̛͙̐ẹ̵̡͓͆͜e̶̛̳̺̊̇͘d̶̺̯̖͖͆́͋̀͜ ̸̧͈̔̉̾͆͊o̸͉̪̐̓͌͗n̶̛͈͈̜̂̔̎l̶̙͐̈́ÿ̶̡̹͇͉́̓ ̷̩̾̔͂̿d̷̝͙̺̣̝͛̃̈́͘o̴͕̺͆̐ ̵̨̯͕͒̋̊͌̕a̴̼̗̹̕͜s̷̡͈͈̻̭̄̕ ̷͉̟̒͛̈́I̶̡͍̤͋̀̏ ̸̙̻̝̣͐͊̈́͋a̷̢͓̯͍͖̓̐͊͋s̵̹͈̐k̸͙̞̦̰̉͌.̷͍̺̖̌͌̅́̏

She focused, trying to fight against the magic that threatened to overtake her.

Ÿ̶͕́ộ̶ṳ̵͒ ̸͍͑d̸̜̍a̵͕͘r̴̢̕ė̵̗ ̵̺̍r̸͖͝e̸̙̕ś̴̟i̴̹͠ś̵͍t̵̗̊?̷̝̀

A cold chuckle rang through her head, echoing all around her.

F̵̭̣̘̾̋o̶̙̔̓͊͗͜ơ̴̪̥̎̌̏͝l̸̫̯̥̂́͆͆i̴̢̛̙̟͉̔̈́̓̋š̵͚̞̠͖͜h̵͇̭̟͕̰́͊̄͂͠ ̷̗̖͛̅̄̇c̴̡͛̋͐ḩ̵̫̱̌͛͋̚i̵̡̨͖̝͗̑̔̇l̶̥̦̬̪̒́d̷̛̠̍͛̚͝

She cried out in pain as the magic sharpened itself and began to dig into her. Countless blades, each as cold as a starless sky carved into her being, as were the memories they dragged out of her.

She could feel them close in on her being, how a multitude of them reformed as a singular point, poised to pierce her last defense and overwhelm her.

N̸͉̥͓̰̠͆̔o̷̲͔̞̪̳̥͌͗́͜w̵̨̩̼̺̜͇̜͊͛̅̉̋̅́͑͘ͅ,̴̱̠̍ ̶͎̌̔̊͑̅͠S̴̝̗͓̖̀̐̅͂͋̓̕͝͝U̶̢̪͈͈̠̾B̷̡̫̥̠͓̫̍̿͆M̸̬̜͔̔͂͑̂̅̄̕͝I̶̡̟͓̩̰͗̀̏͋T̷͋̈̊̿!̷̨̯͍̱͇̮̀͆̍ͅ

She braced as best she could, knowing all she could do was wait to be taken over.

And wait.

And wait..

And wait…

T̶̬̎͋h̸͎̭̓ę̵̺͗̉ ̴̢̛̉m̸̰͍̑ą̵͍̾̉ǵ̴̙̪̳ĩ̶̜̘ͅc̵̥̺̗̊̂̓ ̸̜̱̖͂̊̈́f̶̠̙͉̓a̴̢͈̔͝i̴͍̩̥͠l̵͚͚̚s̴̹͂?̶̜̥̜̋̽ ̴͕̉̏͠I̸̩̹͂m̷̖̣̉͘p̶̬̩̏o̴̗̝͑̕s̶̳̆͑́s̵̗̭̲̕͝ḭ̶̮̂̆b̶̬̑̚ľ̶̩̰͠ę̵̱̣͐̉͠.̵̳̬͕̊́

She dared to look when she still hadn't felt the final blow, only to see a miracle.

A figure held the blade still, the dim glow that came from it pushing back against the darkness.

I̵͚͓̭̓͝ń̵̹͔̚͝t̶̳̆̀̚e̴̖̦̱͛̕r̷̪̥̠͐͐f̵̺̺̑̏͆e̴̙̭̅̽n̷͙̽̈́̒ĉ̵͉̖ẹ̵̍̀̑,̶̭̗̍ͅ ̷̛̭͑̇b̸͕͎͑u̶̞̲̍t̵͍̓̋̃ ̶̧͔̒f̴̫͈́̀r̴̺̓͌o̵͔̺̿̕m̵͚̍̚ ̵̽̋̎ͅw̴̞͑̈ȟ̷͉̓ö̴̺̳̭́̋?̶̝̘͌

"From me."-

Ÿ̵̖́̑́ͅO̶̰̟͈̱̐̍̈́Ư̴̞̣͚̻̹̖̖̇́̈̊͘

Chloé recognized the voice. That same voice that had led her from a dark place so long ago, now stood with her again against this devouring abyss.

Ÿ̷̡͎́́͂̾͜O̸̖̍̀Ȗ̴̢̘̾ ̷̡͖̯̜͘C̸̲̭̰̓A̷̭̹̾̊̚N̵̛͙̪̥̾̈́̽N̷̢̪̥̋̂O̶̎͐͜T̸͔̩̓̾̔ ̶̮͛Ś̸̻͚͜T̸́̀͜͠͝O̵͉̯͉̼̾̃͘̚P̶̧̢̜͗͐͆ ̷͇͛͛̑̐M̶͓̘̾É̷̺͎͙̈_̵̪̌͛́͝I̶̬̬̒̍͂̐ ̶̟̰̙̜̚W̸̡̡͍͒̑̐̓Ḭ̶̫̙̆̓́L̶̟͓̝̖̃͗̾͘Ḻ̷̤̥̓́ ̸͈̦̘͓̉Ḫ̸̡̪̹̇A̶̼͋̊̿V̶͔̖̋̎E̶̡̢͎̙̓̐͘ ̴̬̠̗̓̿T̵̘̳̰̈́͝H̷̬͌̂̚Ȅ̷̞̥̯̘́̃̚ ̸̛̲̓W̸̖͈̘͊̈͑̌I̸̗͊́̇̍S̷͉̖̚͝͠H̴̢̾!̴̛̦͎̖̗-̶̛̬͉͑

"No, you won't. You're nothing but a shadow from a past I buried and I will bury you as many times as it takes you to stay dead."

The figures' aura began to brighten, and as Chloé focused on it more memories began to surface, ones she recalled fondly. They were warm, like sunlight on a spring day.

Y̶͓͔̹͐Ö̵̲̱̲́̕Ů̸̺̱ ̷̜̺̩̜̅̓̚W̴̩̩̆̉Ì̸͙̜͘͜ͅḶ̸͈̖̻̾̅L̷̛̹̹̝̗̈́ ̵̡͚͚̕Ņ̵̧̼̫́O̷̯͙͐ͅT̷̳͍̭̤̈́-̵̘͕͂̌̉͝

"SILENCE, AND BEGONE SHADOWMOTH! KNOW THAT IF YOU DARE TO TARGET MY FAMILY EVER AGAIN, I SHALL BRING ALL OF PARIS DOWN UPON YOU!"-

Ą̷̰̟͓͈͖̿A̴̛͊̎̓̂̄̍̕̕Ą̸̞̥͉̮̦̳̰̈́̽́Ȁ̵̦͙̣͜A̵̍́̆̏͗̉̃Ą̶̛̜̗̖̲̗̭̭̈̎̎̇́̿̊̔͜A̵̯̯̬͛͑͂̓̔̆̄̈̕͝ͅR̴̈́̃̊̂̓̈̀͘Ŕ̶̑̋̓̔̅̆̀̅͘͠Ř̶̞̒͐̆͆̆͗͝Ř̵̨̥͇̞͕͍̠̪̍̃̓̒̽G̴̥͔͙̭͇̊̌̚͘̚͝ͅG̶̨̀̋̈́͑͌̓̀G̵̞̯͓̠̰̪͈̉̈̑̉̀̅̔͛̀̍H̶̹͙̀̈́̂̂̔̊̀͝͠H̷̙̼̺̺̊̐͜Ḫ̸̺̞̀͗̾͐̕͘̚

The figure lit up to a blinding white as the darkness was torn from Chloé. A primal scream torn from the shadows throat as it burned away.

The world fell back into place for Chloé. She looked up, seeing Cinnabar kneeling before her.

In his hands was an Akuma butterfly.

But it was wrong, just like the magic that it contained was.

It was far larger than any other Akuma butterfly she had ever seen.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[boy-interrupted98]

Let them say I misunderstood. Let them call it Blasphemy.

I will not kneel at the altar of coherence. I came here to burn the blueprints.

Philosophy made the fatal error of trying to explain the storm.

I am the storm, and I have no explanation.

The bones I shall bury are not forgotten. They are beloved offerings.

Obituary/Resurrection;

Plato

Aristotle

Pythagoras

Zeno of Elea

St. Augustine

Thomas Aquinas

Maimonides

Avicenna

Al-Ghazali

Boethius

Descartes

Spinoza

Leibniz

Locke

Hume

Francis Bacon

George Berkeley

Kant

Hegel

Schelling

Fichte

Karl Marx

Jeremy Bentham

John Mill

Sidgwick

Comte

Herbert Spencer

Kierkegaard

Nietzsche

Schopenhauer

Sartre

Camus

Simone de Beauvoir

Wittgenstein

Bertrand Russell

G. E. Moore

A. J. Ayer

W. V. O. Quine

Edmund Husseri

Heidegger

Hans - Georg Gadamer

Foucault

Derrida

Lacan

Baudrillard

Lao Tzu

Zhuangzi

Nãgãrjuna

Dōgen

Confucius

Eckhart

Simone Well

Jorge Luís Borges

Heraclitus

Prologue:

The Maze as Manifesto:

Comprehension as a form of violence; the labyrinth as a symbol of divine complexity.

To understand is, often, to violate. What we call comprehension is less revelation than capture—a breaking down of what resists into something domesticated, annotated, shelved. The unknowable is made knowable not by grace but by force. We reduce to explain, and in explaining, we distort.

The divine does not suffer this lightly.

The labyrinth is not a riddle to be solved, but a presence to be endured. It is not designed to mislead; it is designed to resist the arrogance of the straight line. It coils with intention. Its curves are not accidents, but ethics. It teaches not by offering solutions, but by denying them.

To walk the labyrinth is to forsake the compass. To reject the inherited logic of forward motion, of cause and effect, of origin and destination. The straight line is a conquest narrative. The spiral is a theology of humility.

In every corner, a paradox. In every turn, a confession: that clarity is often a form of betrayal. The desire to simplify is the first impulse of power. Systems flatten. Maps erase terrain. Categories amputate what they cannot name.

To step into the labyrinth is to renounce that impulse. It is not ignorance—it is reverence. A refusal to dismantle mystery into parts.

Plato's cave offered the promise of ascent—from shadow to sun, illusion to form. But we remain in the cave, not as prisoners, but as keepers of its flickering light. We do not seek the sun. The sun blinds. The cave contains multitudes.

Kant warned of the limits of reason. Jain thinkers offered a doctrine of multiple viewpoints, an epistemic humility long neglected in the West. To them, truth was not a singular blade, but a sphere glimpsed from many sides.

This book is not a thesis. It is not a ladder of logic. It is a descent. A deliberate wandering. A text with no center and no promise of return. You may not exit unchanged. You are not meant to.

To be lost, here, is not failure. It is initiation.

So leave your diagrams behind. Forsake the desire to resolve. Step in. Not to conquer, not to define, but to dissolve.

This is the maze. This is the first refusal. This is Lost Bones of Philosophy.

Let’s start the funeral/awakening.

[foxblood]

The Threads of Memory: II In Case of Rain

Chapters: 1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/25

The bronze guise of Silvanus reached an arm across the marble arch for Meilikki, and she on the other end of the pillar pulled her bowstring taut and aimed an arrow at his heart wreathed in oak leaves.  The plaque above their heads announced “University of Waterdeep Botanic Gardens”.  An old couple sat on the benches beneath the gate, shoulders close together behind the half-sodden pages of the Waterdeep Digest.  Beyond them, the manicured meadow entry and gardens beyond swayed red and gold against the mist that settled heavily over the Castle Wards as it blew in from the ocean.  Gale took his place on the vacant bench beneath the entrance and pulled his robes tighter around him as the damp worked its way through the wool.

He crossed his ankles and dug a pamphlet out of his pocket.  The pages felt thick and sluggish in the humidity when he turned them, the cover advertising the 10th release of the Journal of the Netheril Archaeological Society.  After each line of self-important text, he glanced at the entrance until Velim appeared on the path and stood up to greet them, retaining nothing from the pamphlet.

Velim looked both ways as they crossed under the entryway as though they thought someone may be lurking at the corners, then pulled off their hood and smoothed the neat braid behind their head.  A shy smile crossed their face, but they buried their hands in the pockets of their coat.  

“Sorry I’m late,” Velim nodded into the meadow so that Gale fell into step beside them, “not really my neighborhood.”

“That just puts us back on even footing,” Gale smiled back to put them at ease.

“Yes, well, it’s my own fault for leaving on time.  I should have prepared to get lost,” they pulled a gloved hand out of their pocket to run their finger over the water condensing on the arched railing of a bridge crossing a creek.

“I didn’t take you for one to lose your way.” Gale inhaled the wet autumn day as they stepped onto a path between the trees covered in the leaves falling gold from the ginkgo trees above them.

Velim’s eyes turned toward the canopy.  “I contain multitudes, including a chronic inability to read maps.”

Gale offered his hand as they climbed a steep stone staircase, but Velim kept their hands in their pockets and he pulled it away.  “You must travel with a companion, then?”

They shook their head.  “I find my way regardless.  Would you like some lunch?  My treat.”

“That’s not necessary,” Gale said.

“Nonsense, let me buy you lunch.  I just got the advance for my next publication, something to work the chill out of my hands is hardly going to break my finances, and I was late this time,” Velim insisted.

“Is that so?  Which publication?” Gale asked, “something grand?”

“Not my contribution,” their fingers brushed the fine hairs on the underside of a cherry-red leaf and read the stone with the name of the plant engraved upon it, sanddusk creeper, “but the copper etched illustrations, well, those are quite grand.  It’s a textbook documenting the physiological impacts of magic mediated illness.”

The memory of a wizard Gale once knew flashed before his eyes, the skin of his face melting due to a backfiring healing spell intended to clear his acne.  “Are you an expert in such things?”

“No,” they paused and looked over the side of the pond where bright orange fish swarmed at the banks, begging them for food, “well, perhaps I am now.  I was selected as the ghost writer, each article is informed by the true experts of the individual ailments.  The only magical ailment I’m intimately familiar with is invoked hyperplasia.”

“Because the only intervention is surgical, yes, I have no doubt you would be,” his face tightened with concern, the memory of his school friend stuck in his mind, “a terrible condition indeed.”

“People have difficulty wrapping their mind around healing invocations,” Velim began, each word considered before being voiced, “they see a wound close, and believe they’re seeing some process reverse bodily damage when the truth of the matter is that the invocation is a calling forth of cellular regeneration.  A less-than-precise use of such a spell leads the body into devouring itself to feed whatever retains a splinter of the invocation,” they sighed, “forgive me, I see it so often that I find its continued prevalence exhausting.  Were you ever a student here?”

“I spent a great deal of time as a joint researcher between the archaeology department and the Blackstaff Research Institute, but, no, I was always destined for Blackstaff’s program.  In fact, an old colleague of mine in the archaeology department was the first person to show me this,” he gestured to the turning leaves above them, catching the mist and releasing it as heavy droplets, “I’m sure she’s industrious as ever in Baldur’s Gate, but I do miss her.  She makes a brilliant collaborator.”

“Always a shame when a great researcher moves out of reach,” Velim looked above them and watched droplets slide off a dome of magic above themself and Gale.  When had he cast that spell?  Now that they were paying attention, they could feel the threads leading back to him.  Effortless.  A small voice in the back of their mind wondered if he might teach them such a thing, “you’re quite skilled.”

Gale followed their gaze to the shield above them as the rain finally reached them from the sea in a soft patter on the leaves.  “What, that trick?”

Velim couldn’t cast a shield spell with that ease -- not at all.  They had tried and splashed their apartment with acid.  “I didn’t see you cast it.”

“Are you at all familiar with the Arts?” Gale asked, admiring his own work as other walkers on the path scrambled for cover in the steadily intensifying rain.

Velim considered their answer, letting the pause drag on almost too long before responding.  “I learned only what kept me from discharging magic accidentally.”

Gale’s eyebrows rose.  “A sorcerer?”

They shoved their hands into their pockets again.  “Yes, but I couldn’t tell you from what source.”

A flush rose to Gale’s cheeks, turning them redder than the flush that cold already brought to his face.  “My apologies, I don’t mean to suggest -- well, I’ve met many sorcerers with less intellectual acumen, if you’d allow me a modicum of judgment.”

Velim smirked at him, but their hands remained firmly in their pockets.  “The best of us don’t attend arcane academies.”  Including themself in that number felt wrong, but Gale was too distracted by his own embarrassment to notice the bitterness in their expression was directed at themself.

“Neither of your parents were gifted?” Gale recovered.  The shield above them never wavered.

“I can’t say, I don’t know them.” Velim waited for Gale to press further.

Gale shuffled his feet through the fallen leaves.  “I see.  I’m sorry for your loss.  I lost my father before I could remember, myself.  Do you mind if I ask how it happened?”

The time he wasted on apologies gave Velim time to set the pieces of their story in order.  “I’m not sure if they’re dead,” they watched Gale’s face change in surprise, “I fell from the roof of a building when I was 14, took on a severe head trauma.  I can’t recall anything before waking up in a surgery in the middle of a quarantine for fever.  I couldn’t leave, and I had no way to tell anyone who I was or where I came from, so I began my apprenticeship as a surgeon as soon as I had hands that worked.”

“And they never came looking for you?” Gale pressed.

Velim shrugged, unwilling to twist any more of their past into something fit for consumption.  “When you were working on that joint committee with your colleague, were you looking to investigate that site you mentioned in the Silver Marches?  The one involved with the Ortenkus story?”

“The project was intended to map the annual travels of each known enclave in Netheril based on historical accounts and traces of weave modified by the passage of the mythallars.  No time for old Ortenkus, I’m afraid,” he turned, the grin of a teacher about to drop some semi-secret knowledge on his student forming at the corners of his mouth, “The towns that dot the Silver Marches now, you know they follow the paths of weave left by the mythallars?  The very roads of northern Faerun follow those ancient cities.”

Velim returned his smile.  “I did not know that.  Did the mythallars raise the earth out of the swamp, or is there something further at play there?  It seemed nigh-impassable to me.”

“Unfortunately not,” Gale trailed off when he noticed Velim wasn’t looking at him anymore, their gaze following a pair of arguing voices obscured by foliage, “probably just a lover’s spat.”

Velim cocked their head to one side.  “Probably,” they echoed.

“Are you worried about someone seeing us together?” Gale’s voice dropped, hoping the worry that the time they spent together may be complicated by their inescapable pasts came out as concern for their well-being.

They shook their head.  “No, not at all,” and turned to him, “just an old habit.  Few folks like seeing a Vulture in their village.  You learn to watch for people about to make a bad decision.”

Gale’s posture loosened.  “I see, and those two are about to make a poor decision, in your estimations?”

Velim glanced through the trees, trying to catch a glimpse of the arguing pair.  “Maybe.  Shall we find somewhere dry for lunch?”

“Sounds like a fine idea, this way.” Gale led them down a path that cut between the trunks of two thick maples twined together through some feat of magic or botany.

Velim hesitated at the path’s start, but jogged to catch up before Gale noticed the delay and they got caught in the rain without the shield spell for an umbrella.

“I have something to ask you, and you may feel that it’s coming on a bit strong, but I assure you that my intentions are purely platonic,” Gale waited for Velim to match his stride before continuing, “do you have plans for Liar’s Night this year?”

“None I couldn’t be persuaded to change, though I will be walking with the rest of the Vultures in the parade,” the path narrowed and Velim bumped Gale with their shoulder, “Are you in need of a plus-one for a party of preeminent citizens?”

“No -- well, yes.  Blackstaff Tower holds a Liar’s Masquerade annually.  Normally I would attend alone, but with my extended absence I thought I might benefit from some company this year.  Of course, if you aren’t comfortable with such a thing you need only say the word and I will not mention it again.”  Gale leaned into their weight, following Velim when the path widened again and they pulled away.

Velim kicked through a pile of wet leaves before responding.  “I find it difficult to believe you’ve never taken a guest.”

“Well, I was never alone, I simply arrived alone,” Gale waved the notion off, but his face grew redder, “I once had a full dance card.  It’s only that after a full year of absence, the things that once were easy are no longer.”

“I’d be happy to accompany you, of course,” Velim assured him, “you’ve never brought a date?  Truly?”

“Not for any lack of experience.” He pulled the collar of his coat up.

“Happy to be your first, then,” Velim shot him a crooked smile that sent feathers fluttering through his stomach, their teeth sharper in the expression, “I’m sure I’ll make some poor soul terribly jealous.  Should we plan to match, or let the cards fall where they may in terms of dress?”

Gale feigned a cough to keep his voice from cracking.  “No time to draft up something new, we may as well don the costumes of yesteryear.  I expected more resistance to the idea.”

“Oh, no, I adore a masked party,” Velim buried their hands deeper in their pockets, but their step skipped ahead and stretched the shield that now carried them both beneath a curtain of rain, “They make for good people watching.  I only warn you that I can’t dance.”

“I’m not exactly in the practice of it myself,” Gale ran a hand through his hair and breathed in the smell of wet earth as they approached a covered walkway with scattered food carts meant to feed the students and staff of the university, “I’ll survive a crushed toe or two, should we find ourselves in a dancing mood.  I wouldn’t have thought you the type for parties.”

“Then you thought right,” Velim admitted, walking ahead of him and into the cover of the walkway where the smell of cooking meat swelled beneath the roof, “but variety is the spice of life, is it not?  And I’ve never been to Blackstaff Tower, you might show me around.”

The rain continued falling over the botanical gardens long after both their bowls were empty and replaced in the bin of used dishes beside the noodle cart.  Velim leaned on the railing separating the walkway from the cobblestone paths of the garden and watched the rain slide off the roof in thick rivulets.  Gale leaned against the column beside them.

“Quite the day for a walk in the garden,” Velim glanced sideways at Gale, “I’m tempted to ask you to walk me home with that shield spell of yours.”

“I would be honored,” Gale said with a little bow, “shall we take the path through the trees?”

Velim watched Gale as they stepped out into the rain together, the deluge parting.  Gale glanced back at them back with a sly glint in his eye.  They didn’t notice so much as a twitch of his fingers, and realized he had never dropped his concentration.  

They came under cover of the trees, and Gale stumbled on the uneven path.  His knees buckled as the orb spasmed in his chest.  Velim caught his elbow, his weight dropping them both for a sickening second before Velim pulled him upright.  They searched his face for the ailment, noting the pinch of pain at his temples and corners of his eyes, one hand firm on his arm to hold him steady and the other bracing their shoulder against his weight.  Gale blinked hard, his mouth opening in silent apology.  Velim dragged him to a bench and sat him down.  The chilled rainwater soaking into his coat fought the tearing sensation radiating through his chest, the orb grasping frantically for Velim’s hand on his arm.  He pulled away.  

Velim sat on the bench beside him a few inches apart, hands back in their pockets.  They waited for his back to ease out of its tense arch, his hand massaging his chest as he sat back against the bench and let the chill slip over him as raindrops fell fat and heavy against his skin.  He spoke the word and circled his fingers in the air and the shield reappeared above them.

“Has this happened before?” Velim asked.

Gale took a deep breath, his lungs straining against the pressure of the orb.  “Yes, occasionally.  It’s no trouble, really, I’m sorry to bother you with it.”

“Rain check on walking me home,” Velim joked, their bedside manner slipping into place, “have you seen a doctor about it?”

“Yes,” the affirmative was always the correct answer, “nothing for it, I’m afraid.”

“How long do these episodes typically last?” Velim ran down their list of questions, filtering the ones that seemed too personal for a concerned exchange between friends, “and do you have something to take for them?”

“Not long,” Gale’s voice wavered, “but I’m afraid I do not have the medicine on my person.”

Velim searched his face for something and Gale thought with a jolt that they knew he was lying to them until they blinked and glanced at the mosaic of leaves dotting the path.

“Very well,” they conceded, “when you’re ready, allow me to hail you a cab.”

Gale thought to deny the offer, but he knew it was a command and not a request.  He dragged the last moments out, watching the rain cascading over the shield spell and turning the world into a watery smear of red and gold.  “Shall we?”

Gale stood up before Velim could offer their hand, so they kept their hands where they were and matched his slow pace.  Their footsteps were drowned out by the rain and puddles were beginning to form in the low points of the walkways.

“My apologies for cutting our time short,” Gale said once the pressure in his chest eased down to a flutter, “I did very much enjoy it.  Don’t think my outburst is in any way related to a lack of desire to see you home safely.  Please.”

“I also enjoyed it,” Velim assured him as they entered the courtyard at the entry, the dead stalks of wildflowers giving off the aroma of sodden hay, “and I imagine I’ll enjoy the Liar’s Masquerade just as much, but promise you’ll get some rest and see your doctor again before the event.”

“I promise.” The orb pulsed hotly around a tightening in his chest.

They arrived at the street and Velim flagged down a carriage.  They pulled up their hood and saw him safely inside the covered cab, then tried to offer the driver payment.

“No, no,” Gale pushed a few nibs into the driver’s open palm, “not after you bought lunch.”

Velim put their change back in their pockets.  “I’ll see you on Lair’s Night, Gale.”

“You will.  I promise you, you will.” Gale sat back in the cab as the driver kicked the horse into gear.  He massaged his chest, the faint black lines of the mark pulsing as molten metal beneath the surface of his skin all the way up to his eye where his vision blurred with each hard beat of his heart.

The shield spell vanished with Gale, and the rain resumed falling on the oiled leather of Velim’s duster in a way that pressed the cold into their skin through the waxed seams.  They waited for the carriage to turn out of sight to begin walking, scolding themself for offering to let Gale walk them home in the first place.  A foolish idea, and something they should never have considered extending to someone who knew them not at all.

Without the shield, the cold crept into their shirt and pulled the scars on their chest taut.  They rubbed along the line of them, from sternum to clavicle on each side, smoothing the scales and soothing the prickling scar tissue beneath.  Their shoulder ached where the muscles had strained against Gale’s weight.