#it doesn't really seem to understand the concept of you know. sharing

[discordiansamba]

Consider: blue spirit zuko au but he's possessed by the blue spirit...

Zuko: i need to capture the avatar 😡

Blue spirit chillin in his head: be gay do crimes 🥰

he doesn't find the mask, the mask finds him.

at first blush, zuko seems like an odd choice for its vessel. but the blue spirit senses what the prince could be, if he would just open his eyes to it. lucky for it, it can quite literally force prince zuko to see through its eyes! as far as its concerned, their relationship is a symbiotic one. as far as zuko's concerned, he's become the unwilling host to a spirit that works against fire nation interests.

as far as iroh's concerned. well. he's just concerned. in general. his nephew has been possessed by a spirit and iroh cannot entirely tell what it is that it wants from him- and it seems to think nothing of putting zuko in harm's way. at first he believes that it can only control his nephew when he is wearing the blue spirit mask, and attempts to quietly dispose of it...

...which doesn't work, of course. it finds its way back.

and it turns out the spirit doesn't need the mask to possess his nephew. it's just its preference. he buys zuko wards and charms that should protect him, but the blue spirit simply removes them the first chance it gets and tosses them overboard.

(it never minds iroh's interference. it's an amusing game he's playing with his vessel's uncle, as far as its concerned.)

[mariasont]

Talking to a Brick Wall - A.H

a/n: rip erin strauss you would've hated this fic

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!reader

summary: in which you overhear your boyfriend aaron's phone call

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, miscommunication, self-doubt, happy ending but also a terrible ending bc i SUCK at endings xoxo

wc: 2.3k

You had called out your boyfriend's name multiple times as you wandered into his house. He had asked you a while ago if you wanted to come over for a movie night tonight and hell would have to freeze over before you ever declined that offer. However, upon arrival, you were greeted by silence; no response to the doorbell, his phone, or your voice. Thankfully, the key he'd given you last year jingled in your pocket as you let yourself in.

You had a pretty strong suspicion he'd be in his office--after all, this was Aaron Hotchner, a man who definitely did not believe in leaving work at the office. 

And sure enough, his voice filtered through the slightly ajar door, the rich hue of his mahogany desk framing the gap. You were about to move towards the living room, assuming he was on a work call of some sorts, but his words stopped you dead in your tracks. 

"It's just... sometimes I feel like I'm speaking, but the understanding isn't there. You know what I mean? It's like the concepts just float in one ear and out the other."

You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, brows drawn together, as your hand found the wall, leaning towards the door. He couldn't have been talking about you, right?

"I try to share details, to get her involved, but it's met with this vacant nod. As if the depth of it all just doesn't register."

Oh. Her. You tried to fan away the wetness that threatened to fall down your cheeks, each rapid motion a desperate attempt to convince yourself you were imagining things. 

"And I'm patient, I really am. But when you're met with that blank look, it's... disheartening. You start to wonder if it's worth explaining at all. It's like talking to a wall."

Okay, that stung. It was like an immediate punch to the gut, your heart seeming to drop into the pit of your stomach. Your shoulders slumped slightly as you tried to rationalize his words, but nothing was really making sense right now.

The internal battle was a cruel one: stay and endure the sharp sting of his words or leave and miss more of what he had to say. The latter won, pulling you away from the door. 

You knew you were never going to be the smartest person in the room, and in the past, it was a source of deep-seated insecurity, always a silent specter in the corners of your mind. But then you met Aaron. And he made everything just better. His own intelligence and impressive job never became a yardstick for your worth; he ensured you knew you were more than enough, just as you were.

He had always been the voice reminding you that you were smart in your own right, telling you that your worth transcended any numerical measure of intelligence like a stupid IQ score. But now you were questioning everything. 

Anger seemed like the appropriate response, right? But it was hard to be when his words carried a weight of truth to them. 

You did have a hard time keeping up when he talked about the complexities of his cases, sometimes feeling like an outsider looking in. But, even if you didn't understand, his passion for what he did was infectious, and you hung on to every word when he explained all the ways his smart brain was able to deduce things about people. 

Still, a part of you imagined it was hard for him, that it probably got old fast when you weren't able to hold an intelligent conversation. 

Your knuckles were white against the steering wheel, and it somehow took you only ten minutes to get home when it should've taken you twenty.

It was only when you had taken a shower, put on your favorite pair of pink sweats, brought out some Ben and Jerry's, and turned on Legally Blonde, did you check your phone.

Hi honey. What time are you coming over?

You tried to ignore the sensation of an invisible band drawing tighter across your chest. 

so sorry, not feeling good. rain check? xoxo

You hated lying to him. Hated lying in general, save for the occasional white lie to protect someone's feelings. The fact that you weren't lying to his face was a small mercy, because obviously he'd be able to see right through you.

Do you want me to come there? I can bring food.

You wanted to be with him, you really did, you had been counting down the days to this movie night all week. But the thought of sitting beside him, wanting to ask about his day, about his work, now seemed like an intrusion. Knowing that your well-intentioned questions might be a chore for him or a source of frustration. The realization pressed down on you, a heavy weight that threatened to snuff your light.

no that's okie! thank you though <3 i don't want to get you sick!

Your phone was ringing, his name lighting up the screen for a FaceTime call, it felt like a betrayal of your own making. It was a skill you had recently taught him (which took forever), and of course now he was using it. Your finger jabbed at the red button, your cheeks turning the same color. 

i look & sound disgustinggg rn

I know for a fact that's incorrect. You have a magical talent of looking incredible no matter what.

I want to see your pretty face.

you can be so flattering when u want to mister!

im going to take some medicine & then ill call u l8, k?

Hmm, okay.

love u! xoxo

I love you too, pretty girl.

You hated this. Your eyes were puffy, swollen and wet as you discarded the phone onto the nightstand. He deserved someone who wasn't so pathetic. 

You wallowed in self-pity all night, and then all day, and then all week. You went through the motions--getting up, going to work, and then making up some lame excuse when Aaron asked to see you. Name it, and you had probably said it. In reality, you had been holed up in your room, trading glossy magazine pages for confusing behavioral books.

The subject matter was as dull as dishwater, making paint-watching seem thrilling. But you were committed to bringing some depth to your next conversation with him.

Today's excuse had been some half-truths about being buried in work--which in hindsight seemed comical, given you worked at a bakery and there wasn't much that could take up your time outside of contract hours.

You were splayed across the couch in an upside-down sprawl as you attempted to focus on the scholarly gibberish that filled the pages. 'Homology,' 'dichotomy,' and 'typology' melded into a migraine-inducing blur, tempting you to slam the book shut. You were fighting every urge to throw it out the window and paint your nails with that new glittery polish you've been dying to try.

At the insistent knock, you clapped the book shut (thank god) and stood, brows knitting, as you navigated to the door with a soft scuffle of slippers on polished wood. 

Flinging it open, you halted, breath caught. "Aaron? Oh, hi, what are you doing here?"

The words sprang forth before you could catch them, your hands scrambling up to smooth the evidence of your couch-induced disarray. 

He fixes you a pointed stare as he steps into your apartment, invitation be damned you guess. "I find myself repeating this, yet it seems necessary--peephole first, then the door, sweetheart."

You clamp your teeth onto your lip with such force, you're convinced you've tasted blood. "Oh, right, sorry... I should've remembered."

A flicker of foolishness and a heavy dose of self-consciousness threaten to surface. However, you quickly subdue them, tucking them away as you wrapped your arms around your body, offering him a small smile. Despite everything, your heart leaps at the sight of him. You missed him.

His face softens, his touch soft as he tilts your chin upward. "Look at me. It's fine. I just want to make sure my best girl is safe, that's all."

The temptation to simply crumble there and then, to forget everything and cocoon yourself in his arms, was overwhelming. 

You leaned into his hand without thinking, which now claimed the entire area of your cheek. He was always so warm. 

You watch as Aaron glances around the room, no doubt noting the absence of work-related clutter. "Still working?"

"Oh, I was, I told my boss I'd help with inventory reports." That part wasn't totally a lie, but it still made your conscience squirm with guilt.

"Do you want help?"

The proposal touches a raw nerve, sparking a defensive reflex. Did he think you were incapable?

 "Thanks, but I'm actually all done with them," you lie, your a smile a little too rigid as you head into the living room.

You're keenly aware of his approaching footsteps as you hastily stash that stupid book under a magazine, silently praying he didn't notice. You settle onto the couch, and he joins you, casually drawing your legs over his lap as you recline against the cushions.

"How was your day?"

You wince internally at the automatic question. 

"Not too bad," He replies with an easy shrug, his fingers sneaking under your sweats at the ankles, tracing lazy circles on your calves. "We wrapped up some paperwork, had a couple of briefings, and oh, we were introduced to our new consultant today. She specializes in crypto linguistics--really fascinating stuff."

Your eyes flutter briefly, a constriction forming in your throat, a twist in your gut. The mere mention of the consultant being a she amplifies your feelings of insufficiency. It leaves you wondering, why would Aaron ever be interested in someone like you?

"Crypto linguistics?" you repeat, trying to sound curious rather than lost. 

He leans in closer to you. "It's a specialized area of linguistics focused on decoding encrypted languages."

You offer a nod, managing a convincing "Yeah, of course," even as your eyes unwittingly drift away from his unwavering stare, betraying a hint of your confusion.

Aaron's hand cradles your head, his fingers sifting through your hair. "Hey," he murmurs, drawing your attention back, "what's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

Your chin touches your chest as you mumble, barely audible, "hardly anything."

Aaron's expression turns to a frown, his broad hands guiding your ass and thighs as he positions you atop his lap, face-to-face, leaving you exposed with no place to hide. Your name escapes him with a sigh. "I don't believe that for a second."

You match his frown with your own pout, nestling your face into his neck, concealing the rosy hue that has claimed your cheeks. "Just a rough week is all."

"Is that so?" His voice was a gentle murmur, his hands soothingly moving in gentle sweeps across your back as you breathed out unsteadily. "Funny, that's been my week too. My gorgeous girlfriend seems to have been avoiding me all week."

"Have not," you mumble, your breath warm against his skin, fingers weaving through the hair at the nape of his neck.

He hummed. "Why don't you tell me what's wrong."

"It's silly."

He guided your face back to his, eyes searching yours. "Listen to me. No, it's not. I don't like when you try to diminish your feelings. Talk to me, honey."

That was your tipping point. A wobble in your lip betrays the onset of tears as your voice breaks.

"I just--I know I'm not as smart as the people you work with or even your past girlfriends. I know I don't get things right away especially when you talk about work, and I see how everyone else is so quick, and I'm here, always a few steps behind. I know that it must be frustrating for you, and I'm scared that one day, you'll get tired of explaining, and your patience will run out, and well, you'll see... you'll see that--"

"Baby, whoa, slow down," Aaron urges, his palms tenderly framing your face, a frown plastered over his face. Your heart hammers against your chest, its rapid beats almost audible, as if it might jump from your body. "Take a deep breath, okay? Can you do that for me?"

You draw in a breath.

His thumb delicately erases the tears that have made their way down your cheek.

"When there is something about my work you don't understand, I will gladly go over it as many times as you need. I don't expect you to know everything about that stuff, why would you? That's not why I'm with you. I'm with you because of your incredibly kind heart and the way you see the best in people. I love you because you are you. What is making you think this way, honey? It's breaking my heart."

"I overheard you Aaron," you said, "saying that sometimes it feels like you're talking to a wall when you talk to me."

"What?" he questioned, but his confusion was quickly morphed into concern. "Oh, sweetheart, no. I was talking about Strauss and her lack of understanding of our fieldwork."

"Oh."

"I would never speak about you like that, you know that, right? And if, in some alternate universe, I did, you need to break up with me, or better yet, set me straight." His hands stayed firmly on your face. "You should never tolerate that from me or anyone else, understood?"

You bit down on your lip, hands resting on his shoulders as you nodded. "Yes, sir."

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, sending fireworks to every inch of you as he mumbled against your mouth, "that's my girl."

taglist: @hotchhner

[zafirreja111]

So, I've been trying to give this random Sans a meaningful backstory and personality for days, but my brain just wouldn't work and I couldn't think of anything interesting. Luckily, today I somehow had enough imagination to use this as an idea, and this rudimentary concept was born:

[!This information may change later!]

About The Random Sans:

Sans' personality is split into two parts for some reason. His silly self and his serious self. While his silly self is the one who usually controls his body (because it costs him less energy), his serious self can only come out when he uses his main magic. (When his eyes flash yellow and blue.) The necklace he wears around his neck blocks the half of himself that is not in control. If the necklace is not specifically near him, he cannot use his power and cannot switch with his other self. 

Origin: 

Sans has no Au or backstory, he just appeared in a forest. However, his confused state leads him to believe he has amnesia and no memory of his past, which is why he wanders through AUs hoping to find some clue to his non-existent past. 

About his two sides:

His silly side is the one that mainly controls the body. At that time, his necklace is blue and yellow, and his eyes are two white stars. He is clumsy and tells a lot of jokes, often getting himself into trouble for stupid decisions. 

He can only switch to his serious side when he uses his main magic. His necklace is black at that time, and his left eye flashes blue and yellow. He is quite, tries to get the best out of a situation, and sometimes overthinks things.

Rarely, but in certain cases, the two halves can merge.

Small information(?):

- He'll eat any stupid plant he finds delicious. Even the ones that are poisonous and he'll regret eating them later. He'll do it again.

- His orientation skills are sucks.

- His two halves can communicate with each other, but he doesn't do it much because he finds it weird. 

✧˖

That's all for now. I don't know how to write a character description, sorry. I know it might seem like a lazy idea and maybe more could have been done with this great character design, but my brain is still foggy right now and I like this idea so I thought I'd share it with this drawing. :>

Thank you so much everyone for all the feedback! ❤️ I'm happy so many people liked my Sans design fot my latest drawing. I honestly didn't expect everyone to like it so much, especially since there wasn't even a description at the time, but it was a pleasant surprise for me. 💕

Sorry if the English is sloppy. Unfortunately, Google Translate and my questionable English skills can only do so much at a time, but I hope it's still fairly clear and understandable, even if it's not perfect. 

(Also, check out my last reblog if you want, there's another story idea there that I didn't come up with but I really love. ;] )

[specialgradefckr]

tw: explicit content, incest, satoru/reader, satoru/suguru, suguru/reader, codependency, manipulation, toxic relationship dynamics (on all sides)

suguru knew something was going on between satoru and you.

the gojo twins, never far from each other's sides. always the first thing anyone saw when they walked into the room. ethereal beauties, not of this plane, cut from some divine cloth mortals like him couldn't hope to understand.

the connection was obvious, blatant, everyone could tell you were close siblings. but there was something more.

like a shift just in the corner of his vision, disappearing as soon as he focused on it. something in satoru's eyes when he looked at you. something in your voice when you said his name.

he knew it was probably sexual. there was some unhealthy attachment.

but how was he to know, really? who knows what your lives were like growing up. suguru was born a non-sorcerer, to regular parents.

satoru never spoke about his.

you were less cagey (or rather just outright dismissive) but everything he'd heard from you made him feel... ugly.

he likes it. hearing that satoru has no one back there for him. no one close to him but suguru (and you). that he grew up lonely, touch-starved, and with a propensity to cling to the one person close to him like a comfort object.

suguru doesn't quite know how to feel about you. on one hand, he wishes he could have been there with younger satoru. grown with him, embedded his roots deep in his fickle heart.

on the other, who would satoru have even been without you? would he have held himself untouchable, impervious to the entire human condition? would he have let suguru hold him, kiss him? would he have kissed back?

there's a part of him that despises you for being so close to the boy he's so madly in love with. even if satoru was hurting you even more.

it had fallen suspiciously silent when you'd offered suguru a fuck. it had nothing to say in the days afterwards, either, when suguru had fisted his cock to thoughts of satoru, and his mind had slipped between white-haired, blue-eyed beauties with androgynous features and trembling gasps.

satoru fucks him again - a couple times - and suguru calls him gojo while they're fucking, watches his stupid pretty eyes crease in confusion.

he doesn't stay, after. never stays. and he knows why. satoru can't sleep without you. his personal safety blanket.

suguru wonders, with a perverse excitement, if he can get you to fuck him again. the thought makes him throb. he tells himself it's because he thinks it'll hurt satoru.

you certainly seemed to enjoy it. could he get you to stay? you're more tender-hearted than satoru. you probably feel bad about using suguru to hurt him.

how would satoru feel? his precious twin sister, gone from whichever bed you were sharing? his security pillow stolen away? only to find you in the arms of the boy who he thought he had on a leash?

it seems, unfortunately, that he's been beaten to the punch.

satoru had to have left the door cracked on purpose. it's laughably obvious.

deep down, suguru had known something was wrong when satoru specifically asked him to come over.

satoru's never asked for what he wanted. he'd say "i want ice cream", or "burgers sound so good right now" or even just "i'm going to the ramen shop".

satoru gojo doesn't ask. he doesn't make requests. that would imply that he had some concept of being denied.

he would never stoop so low as to actually say he wants to hang out, confess to wanting suguru's company. doesn't say "suguru, come over to my room! i have something to show you ;)"

no, if satoru actually wanted to see him, he'd just text suguru - i'm bored.

he would never subject himself to the indignity of acknowledging he wanted something from someone else. no, the boy-god of jujutsu society would merely blurt out whatever he wanted, and the world would hand him everything on a silver platter.

and so would suguru. if satoru even hinted he wanted his heart, he'd rip it out of his chest, bare all his vulnerable, softest feelings to satoru's tender mercies. just for the chance of reciprocation.

it's not the power of the six eyes, but the vast beauty contained within it, that sparkle and the accompanying grin, satoru's chiming voice in all its insufferable, annoying delight -

suguru is helpless before him.

and by the looks of it, so are you.

you're underneath him. completely bare. satoru towers over you, equally exposed, all sculpted flesh and unearthly beauty.

that's what the both of you are, really. the most attractive people he's ever seen twined up in one another, long lean limbs and fairy white hair.

you could be supermodels. you could be porn stars. a pair of angels making love. divine perfection, perverted and distorted as your brother thrusts his cock inside you.

suguru nearly flinches back when satoru's head flicks up, six eyes searching. locking onto him.

this was intentional. satoru wants him to see this.

he's pumping in and out of you, petting your hair and kissing your forehead and making his little moans while he fucks you so hard and fast that all you make are short, high-pitched whimpers, just loud enough for him to hear.

it sounds almost painful. it might be on purpose.

or maybe it's not. he doesn't know if satoru can even tell, he doesn't look at you at all. he just stares.

stares at him with those blue blue eyes. fierce, feverish. licks his lips, all pretty and pink.

he's felt them on his mouth. on his cock. all over him. satoru's a greedy boy, after all. ravenous.

his cock throbs against his pants.

glancing over, suguru looks at you - an absolute vision. just like before.

he can't tell, could never tell anymore, if it's just your striking resemblance to the beautiful boy he loves, or if he would have wanted you on your own, without meeting satoru.

it makes him hard just like satoru's stare does, the six eyed prodigy of all jujutsu staring at him like he's waiting for a response. it made him hard that you fucked him just to fuck with satoru.

that you felt bad about it, but did it anyways. that you, just like satoru, went all soft and vulnerable and tacky under his touchy hands, a needy thing down to your core.

but unlike satoru, you didn't wear that need like a crown. like being wanted by you was a gift that suguru should be gracious to receive.

you looked at him, those big blue eyes and pretty gojo face painted in timid anxiety, like you were just waiting for him to turn you away and ask for your brother.

it was intoxicating. instead of sharp edges that he'd cut himself touching, you were soft, yielding, bearing his weight and bruising under it without complaint.

suguru doesn't need to follow the gaze of satoru's eyes to know how tight he is in his pants. he takes a step forward - and another -

and he doesn't need permission, either, does he? satoru had told him to come to this room.

one hand on the doorframe, he pulls himself out. it's hard, and nearly purple, springing forward into his command. satoru's eyes go wide, his thrusts fast, sloppy.

he's so hard it hurts. like the little croaks you make when satoru sinks all the way in, so hard and so deep he must be hitting your cervix.

distantly, suguru wonders if you're enjoying it at all. your eyes are winced tight under the force. he can't see satoru touching you down there, either.

his hand is around his cock, stroking it, throbbing, as he strides forward, only a couple steps away from satoru - close enough to touch.

suguru looks at you, and then at him. satoru's finally looking away now, six eyes feverish and darting back and forth between you and him like he can't pick what's turning him on more: fucking his sister or having his best friend jerk off to the sight.

your eyes flutter open, pretty white lashes on your flushed cheeks as you stare up at satoru with tears in your eyes.

desperate for his love as suguru is. closer to him than suguru will ever be. you have his face, his name. he's inside you right now.

and it's written on your face, it hurts. just like suguru, this isn't enough for you.

throb. throb. it's killing him. it's so fucked up, and he's never been more turned on in his entire life. his heart lunches at the sight of you, empathy, longing, accompanied by a heady hunger.

a veritable rush of adrenaline surges at the revelation that he wants you, badly. he wants you and he wants satoru and he wants you both to fuck each other -

it coats his hand, wet, viscous, sticky. he cums watching you, watching satoru.

"satoru," he recognizes your voice. the look on his face when he cums, all rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed.

suguru recognizes that he came... and you hadn't.

satoru murmurs your name, lazy, post-orgasmic. suguru's not sure he even knows.

he collapses on you, all six foot something of his lean form flopping onto your smaller body until you groan in protest and he shifts to the side.

you sigh, and it's a weary noise, air leaving you as you turn your head to the side.

then he's treated to the sight of your shock, your eyes widening, hands darting up to fruitlessly cover your chest as you flush hard - oh, you poor, bashful thing. satoru knew no shame.

so like, and yet so different. suguru takes another step, right next to you now.

satoru looks up at him in slitted, half-open eyes. six eyes accusing, but suguru's spent long hours deep into the night weighing satoru's sins against him, and they number far greater than six.

instead, he looks at you. the darker blue eyes, just the two, blinking up at him wide-eyed and vulnerable like you don't know what to say.

suguru smiles at you.

he holds out his hand, still covered in his own spend. brings it to your lips.

you meet his gaze, silent understanding passing between you.

the warm, wet cavern of your mouth opens up to accept him. tongue running over his fingers. lips closing, sucking.

oh, you know. you know. for all your vulnerability, all your anxiety and shyness and obvious desire to be loved... you know when you want to hurt someone. you even know what to do.

satoru watches it happen half in shock. wordless.

this, suguru thinks, is what he must love you for. the ability to know in an instant what someone wants and why they want it. why you should want it, too.

"there's a good girl," he coos, stepping closer so his cock is level with your face. "clean me up."

there's an arm that lurches forward to wrap around you, but suguru is faster dragging his cock into your mouth.

satoru is half-sat up behind you, clinging to you with both hands, face blanched. mouth dropped open.

the thought strikes suguru that satoru might literally pull you off his cock, and he finds himself getting hard again.

before it can happen, you pull off yourself. licking your lips.

a chuckle. he tucks himself back in, "a show, and a cleanup service? you spoil me, satoru," he says, speaking to him for the first time.

then suguru turns his attention right back to you. grin gleaming.

"you almost made me hard again, you know," he says, leaning in conspiratorially, "you've always been so sweet. my favorite gojo."

that is what satoru objects to, of course.

"fuck off, suguru." he snaps, pulling you back and into his arms.

your face isn't the ravished ingenue from earlier. resentment gleans in your eyes, dissatisfaction - he can hardly blame you. you didn't even get off.

"want me to do it for you?" suguru poses, casually, "that's what you invited me here for, right? to get her off?"

satoru again looks utterly shocked. "what do you mean? i can get her off again if she wants," he yanks his dick up, still wet with your slick, half-mast, and tugs you to face him, "i can go again. you don't need him."

it's a little funny to watch. a laugh bubbles through his chest, and he doesn't feel any particular desire to contain it.

"is that what you think?"

satoru doesn't look at him. he scowls at you. "i said i can go again. tell him off."

because satoru can't ask him to leave. can't ask you if suguru is right. he says what he wants, and the world is handed to him -

"sure, suguru. i wouldn't mind that."

satoru's never seen you like this before.

you're his sister. he's slept with you every single night of your life. every night of his life.

he spent years eating meals, going to classes, even bathing with you right next to him until the maids finally separated you. said it was inappropriate.

you and him were naked together in the womb. that was how your life started, and his. your natural state. they were the ones messing it up.

but he lived with it, as long as he could sneak into your bed to sleep at night.

satoru has seen you sick. he's seen you miserable. he's seen you sad, and rarely, angry. he's seen you happy and excited and in the midst of bliss -

or at least, he thought he had, before he watched suguru bounce you up and down on his cock.

he's sitting on the bed as you straddle him. hands on your hips as he helps you rise up and fall back down. kissing delicately at your neck and murmuring things satoru can't hear into your ears.

there's a pink dusting on your cheeks, and it isn't from him watching.

it's unacceptable, but when he moves him, suguru smacks his hand away, like he's a child reaching into a cookie jar.

"take care of yourself," he says breezily, "like i did. this is for her, now."

the look in suguru's eyes, accusing him of some crime he can't have committed, the way your eyes dart towards him and flick away before he can stare you down -

he's leaking. just a little.

satoru is hard, dripping, and his two favorite people in the world are right in front of him. and neither of you is helping him.

"what the hell," he whines, staring at you like you're some animal in the zoo, "she already came. i'm hard! and i'm the one who invited you!"

"says who," suguru shoots back smoothly. satoru watches him meet your eyes, and you don't turn away from his gaze, "you weren't the only gojo who invited me tonight."

it's a lie, of course. you'd never willingly share satoru - on that, suguru thinks he might agree.

but he also knows, as you do, that it was never up to either of you.

"what?!" satoru, ever the pretty fool, looks at you with raw betrayal, "what the hell?"

the realization sinks in over instants.

seconds that suguru gets to relish being buried inside you, how your walls close around him slick and burning, how it makes him throb.

satoru's hand wanders to his cock, squeezing himself to the thought of you inviting suguru over to watch you fuck him. that you're just as jealous and petty as he is.

he's so fucking handsome, satoru almost can't blame you. long dark hair sweat-slicked, his sharp features tightening as he closes in on his release.

he almost can't blame you for letting suguru make you cum and not him. suguru makes him cum, too, after all, makes him just as hard as you do.

it doesn't stop the sting, teeth grit in envy. he wants to reach out and touch but it doesn't feel right. he doesn't feel welcome for once, wanted, with the two of you all tied up in each other. his guts twist up even as the pleasure burns through them.

it hurts. it hurts so fucking much to watch you moan and gasp, nails digging into suguru's back, but you don't claw at him - you cling for dear life.

he's never heard you make these noises. you never rode him like this.

you've half-forgotten satoru is here.

sure, suguru, you'd said in pure spite and frustration. casual, like how satoru always is.

suguru knew how to make you cum, and he was offering. why not take him up? satoru hadn't asked you before inviting him. hadn't asked you before fucking him, either, because you're his sister, not his girlfriend, even though he sleeps with you every night like you're his fucking security blanket and fucks you all the time -

and suguru's thumb is rubbing over your clit, dragging you to the edge.

he's laying tender kisses on your neck, nipping and sucking while he rolls his hips up into you, helping you as you ride him.

tightness gathers in your core as you clutch at him, stare into those dark violet eyes.

there's anger there, and spite, and so much that you recognize; why doesn't he want me, am i not enough, does he like someone else better.

you want to flinch away, but he just presses his lips to yours and licks carefully into your mouth, like you're something he wants to savor. like you're something he wants at all.

he's so hard inside you. he must want you, or want to fuck you, or maybe just want satoru jealous. you've always been his shadow, just an extension of him, so maybe to suguru this is just like fucking satoru with the added bonus of jealousy.

he throbs again while he kisses, you, while he pulls back and you feel more than hear his whisper, "he's watching," because that's what matters most -

you bite down on his lip, and feel him spill inside you.

"you're so good," suguru's eyes glitter, locked onto you, "feel so good. perfect. tell me i make you feel good, too."

"suguru-"

he grasps your hip with one hand to thrust in at just the right angle, rubbing quick, pressing circles into your clit as the knot in your belly unravels and you whimper, helplessly, in release.

you know in your heart, you know, all his words are falsehoods, but suguru's praise drips over you like honey as he nurses you through your climax. kisses sweet and sticky. eyes on you, pretty, purple, piercing in a way that satoru's have never been.

it makes you feel vulnerable, unguarded. seen.

it's a moment or two, before you hear him over the pounding of your heart, your heavy breaths in the climax.

when you do hear him, you hear what he's saying that has satoru gripping the sheets, his own spent cock in anger.

suguru isn't saying satoru's name, or gojo -

he's saying yours.

[meanbossart]

What is your take on Astarion's relationship with his siblings?

I have put unreasonable amounts of time into thinking about what the dynamics were like during Cazador's reign in that house. I mean, imagine sharing the same tasks, bedrooms, and general experiences of abuse and duress with the same people FOR TWO HUNDRED YEARS. That's absolute madness. If any of you have had experiences with co-living with family under stress for any extensive amount of time, you know very well the levels of emotional 4D chess-ing that tend to take place as a result. You end up distributing so much frustration and anger around and often onto the very same people you will ultimately seek comfort from - this is that situation but blown up to impossible proportions.

So, "strained" doesn't really do justice as a descriptor here. I believe the family had a dynamic, ever-evolving hierarchy within itself, years-worthy of time where the spawn shifted alliances and made "cliques" within themselves - rebels would evolve into pushovers and trusted friends would turn into snitches. You had endless amounts of drama within the group and flies on the walls would witness them cut each other's heads off one day and sob into one another's laps the next.

Naturally I think all of them were resistant to the concept of being a "family" at first, but it's pretty much impossible to not develop family-like ties throughout that long of a period. Following Cazador's death, I believe there would be further splintering within as some want to maintain said ties and others are eager to cut them - seeing both their siblings and the relationships themselves as yet another painful reminder of what Cazador imposed upon them.

I think Astarion falls into the latter category. If he had his way, he would never see, speak, or think of his brothers and sisters again. And while the sibling nomenclature is a deeply-rooted habit, he doesn't think it holds any legitimacy whatsoever (whether or not that's the case in his heart is another matter).

Dalyria (the moon-elf physician, whom I have come up with a story, personality, background and motivations during several long showers that might not necessarily line up with yours, so, if anything of what I'm about to say seems pulled out of a hat, it's because it was) is the opposite. She has grown attached to the constant presence of her siblings and taken a mother-goose role upon herself. With the Exception of Leonard and Violet (more on that later) she has decided they are her responsibility and wishes the group would stick together.

I like to think that there's a lot of history between those two in particular. Obviously, the interactions between Astarion and his siblings are very brief, but It's enough to run with. Dalyria shows a lot of concern and understanding towards him and even pleads when he threatens Petras' life - again, I think she did a lot of trying to pragmatically keep the peace among them and genuinely grew attached to a few - Astarion being the main one of said few. You even get the smallest hint of a on-and-off intimate relationship with the way he derisively calls her by her nickname.

Also, Astarion very occasionally showcases enough emotional maturity that I could see him latching onto the one other person around who seems to have her wits about her, but he's still flawed enough that Dalyria can think of him as a younger sibling that needs her care. Not to mention that, to me, she demonstrates a penchant for moral superiority and a dash of a machiavellian outlook, based on her diary and her completely unapologetic initiative to kill a child on the small chance it would lead her to a cure - not any child either, but Leonard's child. I can totally see Astarion sympathizing and gravitating towards someone like that.

Which brings us to the rest of the siblings - I would wager that, at least by the end of it all, Leonard and Violet were the odd-ones out. As it tends to happen within any tight-knit group, when one succeeds by stepping over the others (even if the reasons for it are justifiable) that brews a lot of resentment and eventual exclusion. Leonard not only did that, but he apparently still held onto hope of future and family outside the Szarr house; wheter or not everybody wanted out, I think a us-versus-them mentality is unavoidable under those circumstances, and Leonard was looked down upon by the others in their respective ways for what he was trying to do.

Violet just seems like she had gone a little cuckoo to me. We get very little about her, but when I think of an adult woman playing childish pranks on her roomates while you are all stuck in what's essentially a human trafficking ring... I think of a person who's either just a very silly breed of evil or who has lost touch with reality, and the latter is more interesting, imo. I think no one liked her, not only because she was a nuisance but also because she became completely emotionally untouchable. I think both Violet and Leonard are spawn who did not survive long after they were all freed.

I'll stop here before I ramble on for another 8 paragraphs about Aurelia, Yousen and Petras (Oh Petras, my beloved), but, yes, suffice to say that I believe it was kind of complicated LOL

EDIT: Not me calling Leon "Leonard" this whole post. Sorry buddy, you look like a Leonard.

[seleneprince]

Thanks you for answering!

NOW i'm more curious about Dick and N!D . You say that he's one shz hates the most,why? Is this because of the whole incident with Damian or is it because something else?

And i 'm really expecting the moment when everybody will finally know that N!D hate them so much (or is distant wirh a lot of them). Who will be the most hurt/angry about that? I think that will be a hard blow for Dick because it seems to me that Lucia try to be civilised with him and as he didn't pay too much attention to her ,did he think they on good terms ? How will he react with her if he know?

Sorry if there are too much question but i really love this concept/wip(?) And i'm eager to see your other ideas or blurb for this😊!

Oh boy, i'm so glad you asked that..👀😈

She feels this way with Dick for many small reasons, but the main one absolutely revolves from the murder attempt from Damian. Because Dick, although not maliciously, he handled it terribly. And I mean, terribly.

Before that, N! Daughter admired Dick, even. He was the main reason she took gymnastic classes and tried so hard on them. To impress him. To bond with him. Everyone went on and on about how he was the golden boy, such a good big brother, and she saw it too. She just wished he paid her the same amount of attention and care he had for the others..

But the thing is, Dick doesn't know how to bond with normal people. He can handle Jason, Tim, Damian and everyone else because, despite all their differences, they're the same: Soldiers. Vigilantes. All of them at some point trained and fought under Batman's shadow (some still do). They share similar stories of wounds, certain missions and the whole "risking their lives everyday at night to fight crime". That's the kind of trauma-bonding that this whole mess of a family has been built upon...and for someone who hasn't been through the same stuff as them, who doesn't understand their mission or has wore the mantles, well, Dick is clueless on how to approach them. And they might be unconsciously pushed aside because none of them know how to handle normal people. How could they, when they themselves haven't been normal in their whole lives? When they people they usually hang out with and interact are just like them?

In Dick's eyes, N! Daughter has the privilege of a safe, comfortable life, away from the danger and violence of theirs. She doesn't know the worst of it. And it's fine. But Damian, little terror, he hasn't had the same luxury. Sure, he grew up in a palace with servants, but he was also forced to train from the moment he could walk and bleed for his grandfather's approval. He was never allowed to be a child. Constantly bleeding, suffering and enduring pain to be molded into the perfect little assassin his family wanted him to be. Dick feels sorry for him, and we know he becomes very fond of Damian and sort of his guardian.

Which makes him prioritise the boy's needs and emphatise with him a lot, expecting people to do the same given his traumatic past...even if it comes out at the worst moment.

After the Damian tried to kill her and left that scar, when she was recovering from the still fresh wound, holding a bloodied bandage over her neck, Dick visited her at her room. She wasecstasic, so happy to have her big brother that she admired back then check on her. He sat beside her and told her the this:

"(Name), look, what Damian did was a terrible mistake. He didn't meant to, but he’s had a very difficult life with some awful people. It's not really his fault. I promise you that he won't do it again. Just please, forgive him."

As he spoke, a ringing began to grow and grow in her ears, until she could no longer hear him. Her mind going over and over what he said. She just nodded silently, the pain of the wound keeping her from talking (but also because she didn't trust herself to talk without insulting and cursing him) She didn't even feel when he retracted his hand from her shoulder as soon as she nodded. "Thank you (Name), knew you would understand. He's not really a bad kid, you'll see. He just needs some love and proper guidance to change his ways. We'll talk again when you're better, okay?" He said, moving away from her, obviously distracted. She didn't bother nodding again. She already knew he wouldn't come back.

That's what cemented her disgust for him. Not only the fact he spent the following days spending time with Damian (who by the way, never apologised or shower remorse for what he did), but how he just stood there and told a girl to her damn eyes who had just suffered a murder attempt in her sleep that she had to "be understanding" and basically be the "bigger person" with her attacker. With the blood still in her bandage.

That conversation didn’t just hurt, it broke something inside her. She realized then that no one in the family would choose her, that she only had her mom and the twins. And, in her mind, Dick wasn’t just complicit; he's a symbol of everything wrong with their dynamic.

The first time she tells this story is to Duke, when he gathers courage to ask her why she can't stand Dick, why she always tenses when he talks to her and avoids looking at him, despite being apparently the reliable, loving big brother of all. Needless to say, he's shocked…and angry on her behalf.

"I was holding my neck together with a damn bandage, and instead of asking me how I was feeling, instead of holding Damian accountable, he asked me to understand him."

In her mind, it sounded like:

"You’re the sacrifice. You’re the one who has to be stronger. You’re the one who has to forgive and move on. Because he’s more important"

And best part? Dick has no idea how deeply he hurt her. He thinks of that moment as a difficult conversation where he tried to make peace between his siblings, to what was best for everyone because Damian was still fresh out of the League's influence and he didn't know better. He doesn’t realize that it was the moment she gave up on him, and maybe the whole family.

He's used to be everyone's reliable big brother, the sunshine boy, so you can guess his surprise when he realises his sister avoids being in the same room as him and never smiles around him. When the little girl he remembers always lighted up when he spoke to her and went out of her way to get his attention...what happened? Where did that adorable little girl go? Can he get her back?

[yanderes-galore]

Oooh I got a good one !! Yandere platonic Luffy x gn reader x yandere platonic Robin hcs please , maybe reader calls them sister and brother affectionate , only for it to backfire immediately ☃️

Wasn't sure if you meant them together or separate so I did a combination of both.

Yandere! Platonic Luffy + Robin seeing Darling as a sibling

Pairing: Platonic - Sharing

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Implied Sabo enables Luffy in a small section, Dubious companionship.

I like to imagine you originally meant what you said as a nickname.

Something similar to 'You go, Sister!' Or 'Take 'em down, Brother!'

You clearly meant 'brother/sister' in a teasing way, like a playful name to call them.

That doesn't necessarily mean you see them like siblings.

The idea of the two misunderstanding your tone and becoming obsessed is an amusing way to think of this concept.

You have no idea what you just started when you say those words.

You may even miss the brief sparkle of excitement that shows in their faces when you call them your sibling.

Obviously Luffy is ecstatic.

He's always been one for siblings and loves the ones he has/had very much.

He loves Ace, he loves Sabo...

If he considers you one of his siblings, then he's super clingy.

Luffy may struggle understanding romance, but platonic love?

He's pretty much a master with that.

He wasn't expecting you to call him brother... but he was hoping you would!

I feel he'd be even worse if this was after losing Ace.

By then he's convinced, before he meets Sabo again, his brothers are dead.

If you call him 'brother' during this time...

Something in Luffy... clicks.

You... You really see him as a brother?

You love him like he's your brother?

Afterwards you get a clingy Luffy who refuses to leave your side.

That's how his brothers died, after all.

Imagine when he meets Sabo again in Dressrosa, he eagerly shows you to him, declaring you his new sibling.

Sabo's surprised at this, meanwhile you're struggling to explain what exactly your bond with Luffy is.

You try to say it's a misunderstanding, but Luffy ignores your words and gleefully tells Sabo you're part of his little family now.

Sabo finds the circumstances amusing, merely grinning and asking you to take good care of Luffy.

Truthfully you may not mind being seen as an older sibling to Luffy...

But you don't particularly enjoy his obsessive behavior that makes him watch your every move like a hawk.

Who knows, maybe later Sabo will see you like a sibling too, just to support Luffy's behavior around you.

Then there's Robin, who's shocked at first when you call her your sister.

Remember, Robin lost her entire family to the World Government and was hunted throughout her life.

She hasn't really had a family to call home.

She's found one in the Straw Hats, luckily.

Robin may also be close to you, which triggers your affectionate nickname.

Unfortunately, like Luffy, she takes your words wrong.

I can actually see Robin dropping her mature act and crying a bit when you tell her.

Which confuses you and makes you panic.

Did... Did you say something wrong...?

Robin may need some time to contemplate your words, trying to recover from the sudden shock.

She isn't immediately clingy as she needs some time to think.

Eventually though she's overjoyed that you consider him close enough to be a sister.

Once she understands the situation, she's super overprotective.

Robin wants to be a protective older sister to you.

After all, you're probably younger than her.

She often keeps an eye on you and is wary whenever others are around you.

She lost her old family and friends...

She isn't going to lose this one... not even you.

Robin would rather sacrifice herself than see you hurt.

She occasionally hugs you, whispering how she loves you, all while you awkwardly hug back.

Again, you don't mind being seen as a sibling to her, but like Luffy she never seems to give you your space...?

With the two working together... Luffy is the clingy younger brother and Robin is the protective older sister to you.

Another thing to note is Luffy and Robin have only ever had positive interactions with each other.

Which means there aren't many times where they'll fight between each other.

In fact... They'll be quite the lethal combo.

Both of them would be overly protective of their obsession if they saw you as a sibling.

The two may even encourage one another since you view them both as your brother/sister.

Robin is more controlled and less impulsive, but Luffy still has a lack of control when it comes to emotions.

If Robin didn't like someone near you, she'd glare and keep you close.

If she had to, she'll use her Devil Fruit to force them away and keep you close to her.

Luffy, as I've stated in previous concepts, runs purely on instinct.

If someone hurt you or was a bit too close...

He's on them within an instant, leading to you trying to pull him off.

Robin will either help you get Luffy under control, or encourage him...

Depends on who it is.

I feel both of them are capable of murder.

Would it come up often? No.

Not unless they could lose you.

I'd say they're both smothering with affection too.

Luffy clings to you with his rubber body, making it hard for you to pull him off you.

Robin herself is fond of the occasional hug.

If you refused, she'd probably drag you into it, saying you need to give your big sis a hug.

The two love you.

Luffy has always been a sibling person and Robin is excited to have found a new family.

If they both see you as family, good luck leaving the Straw Hat Pirates.

If you ever left to another crew or were held hostage by someone...

You'll be dragged back... Doesn't matter how much blood is spilled...

You're family now, like it or not, neither of them will let you leave.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

huh...

Recently I was researching Malleus in preparation to write some things for my "10 years later" blog event. And you know what I noticed?

MALLEUS SEEMS TO HAVE LIKE NO CLEARLY STATED POLICY POSITIONS WHATSOEVER 💀 Across 4+ years of content (voice lines, vignettes, events, main story, etc.), Malleus does not really indicate how he plans to rule once he ascends to the throne. I keep thinking I missed something and go back to comb over everything, but I swear to you that it was pretty threadbare. The closest examples I could find were him being familiar with the concept of noblesse oblige (those of higher status have a duty to aid the weak), thinking it prudent to maintain friendly relationships with representatives of foreign lands, and going along with various traditions and ceremonies. I guess you can also throw in Malleus saying he was told by his grandma that the Draconias are meant to use their powers to protect the smiles of their people? But there's nothing concrete, like how exactly Malleus would achieve his goals once in power or what his specific goals are. (This is not counting fan speculation, such as him potentially eliminating the current senate due to how they treated Lilia so callously.)

Malleus will often talk about how the things he's experiencing are different than what he knows of back home. Malleus will talk about how others wait on him (his birthday is a national holiday, he has private chefs and tutors, etc.). But he doesn't talk about how he would rule. That's like... so wild to me considering that he's the crown prince of Briar Valley. I would have expected at least one or two dedicated voice lines about such a BIG for Malleus, especially with how often he speaks about himself being a royal and being groomed for the position of future ruler of his nation. Malleus sometimes shares about his grandmother, who is the current ruler, but again never specifies what her ruling style is like or what her policies are like. It's also strange to me that Sebek, Silver, and Lilia also never speak about Malleus's positions on anything. The best we get is Lilia trying to encourage Malleus to get out of his comfort zone more and to make the most of his time to learn about his non-fae peers. That doesn't speak to any of his current thoughts though, only what Lilia hopes will enhance Malleus's understanding now and perhaps inform his decisions in the future. We're mostly left to assume how Briar Valley's political landscape works--but even then, there's not much to make of it, besides being aware of the senate, a reliance on magic, and the general adversity to humans and technology.

To my knowledge, Malleus barely performs any of the tasks a dorm leader typically would...? Silver has a voice line in his Dorm Uniform stating, "Every time I see Malleus carrying out his housewarden duties, I think that Briar Valley is in good hands," but we rarely see this on-screen. Malleus definitely misses most meetings and ceremonies, often having to rely on Lilia to do them in his place. He also makes excuses as to why he cannot make it to them and blames others for it. (From his Dorm Uniform vignettes: “It's not my fault I don't attend such gatherings. The humans who fear me for no good reason are to blame.”) Malleus also seems to whine when asked to do a simple task like choosing the dorm’s Halloween costume? (From his Halloween Dress vignettes: “You want ME to choose? Why? You've done a perfectly adequate job of it these past two years. […] But I haven't the faintest idea where to begin with such a thing. Surely there's someone more suitable you can turn to.” This... doesn't give him chances to actually act in the role of a leader. It doesn’t exactly instill a my faith in him as someone who can lead, either

Compare this to Leona, the other prince of the cast (not counting Silver, since he learns of his prince heritage very late into the main story and may not even feasibly have a country or people to his name anymore). Leona is the second prince of Sunset Savanna, meaning he's not even expected to become king someday--yet we consistently hear what his thoughts on policies and political planning are. He comments that he worries for his country's future due to how lax, kind-hearted, and extravagant his older brother and acting king Falena is. On top of that, Leona's own views on what would most benefit his country are explicitly laid out. He doesn't care much for stuffy traditions or living in harmony with nature (a value many of his countrymen have); he prioritizes progress and thinks proactively about it. Even on his own birthday, Leona talks about how the gift he received from Falena could be better served as a gift to a neighboring country to bolster the relationship between their nations. The mining and energy internship he chooses in book 7 is also geared towards making sustainable advancements back home (presumably to make use of his country’s natural resources while minimizing damage to the land). We get a very clear sense of how Leona would go about improving his country, even if not from the position of king and even if his ideas wouldn’t be received well by his people or by the land. (If this topic interests you, then please check out this post, where I discuss Leona vs Falena's priorities and ruling styles.)

And for as lazy as Leona keeps being talked up to be, he (to my knowledge) actually respects his peers’ time and does not miss meetings. He could easily not attend or just send a minion to do this menial work for him, but he doesn’t. Instead, Leona actively chooses to be present and to represent his dorm. He doesn’t make excuses or try to skip meetings, he puts his money where his mouth is and actually leads Savanaclaw, even if that means using dirty means at times (book 2).

So what's up with Malleus, an actual king-to-be, not talking about politics at all????? Is it maybe just something Malleus is not thinking about (it's possible that he could become king much later in life, since he’s not considered an “adult” until 1000 years old)? Is he maybe focusing on his current school experience? Or is it that he just... keeps the plans to himself since they aren't immediately relevant? Or is it that he feels he doesn't need to implement many changes once he does become king (since he seems to already be accustomed to his grandmother's way of ruling), so there's no need for him to consider it now? (Briar Valley itself and Malleus are particularly old-fashioned and appear to have issues adapting or changing with the times.) Is it that Malleus secretly dreads his ascension because it means he can no longer go back to his carefree school days? Maybe it's just the Twst devs intentionally keeping Briar Valley vague for meta reasons/to maintain Diasomnia's mystique??? It could be any combination of reasons.

I guess I'm a little frustrated myself at this realization because a personal gripe I have with Malleus is how he's treated and talked about like he's a great leader (especially by Diasomnia; *stares at Sebek shouting and Lilia's book 2 speech*), but we never get real instances of him acting like that great leader he supposedly is. It feels like lip service (think about how often Diasomnia and the general cast hypes him up) without him being able to back it up. When has Malleus led anyone in a serious group effort? How does he intend to lead in the future? I feel like it's mostly him wandering off to do his own thing or to clear the challenge with his OP-ness. But if Twst is really going to sell us on Malleus being a "great leader", then he should be given more chances to be one. It's such a wasted opportunity that we don't get to know more about this. The only instance I can think of (off the top of my head) where Malleus "leads" is GloMasq, and even then I don't know if I would count it??? Because Malleus isn't really leading the group so much as he is tagging along with them because there's safety in numbers given the situation. Everyone else throws themselves out there to protect him and the other event SSRs... and the way Malleus acts kind of implies he would march up that tower and try to decimate Rollo with or without anyone's help if he could. That doesn't really read to me as him taking charge, even if he's technically going to these great lengths to protect his country, which primarily relies on magic (ie their way of life would be destroyed if Rollo's plan succeeds). Maybe I'm missing something though??? If you can think of any examples of Malleus being a leader and/or times when he mentions how he'd rule Briar Valley, let me know. it's very possible that I have overlooked an example, given the extensive amount of content out at the moment. Sharing general thoughts on this topic is also fine.

[doberbutts]

So I'm going to ask an honest question here and ask you please explain in layman's terms. Every trans person I know irl has no concept of the transandrophobia discourse but every time I see more of it online I'm...unsettled, and it takes a lot to power through all the terminology.

I initially was really receptive to transandrophobia because the rationale behind being against it sounded stupid and akin to label discourse in the queer community. I saw "being a man is not an axis of oppression therefore you don't get your Own Word" and thought that was pedantic nonsense, that language doesn't need to adhere to that rule, and that it's helpful to have a term designated towards transmasculine experiences so people can find those experiences easier. Not that trans women's experiences aren't also beneficial! But that, well, obviously no matter how similar the experience birds of a feather and that sense of comfort of sharing identity still matters. This is true for other issues of identity too, I find, weather that's a good thing or a bad thing idk, but it is human.

The thing is I follow a lot of transwomen and have been seeing some alarms being raised about the community being formed around this word. You blocked one of the most egregious offenders so I trust you (which is why I'm asking sorry) I've seen a lot of misogyny and essentialism from people using the term "transandrophobia" and more egregiously "transmisandry." Idk your opinion on the latter term (I haven't scrolled down far enough on your blog, sorry if you talked about this before) but to me it's unconscionable. I was taught that transandrophobia existed as a term specifically NOT to use that term, that elevating misandry to a legitimate issue was dangerous for obvious reasons and it was one of the reasons why I was so supportive of transandrophobia. To me, it seemed like an awareness that misogyny was the prevailing issue behind all issues of gender oppression, but when I actually look at the tag I...get uncomfortable.

Blogs I follow have repeatedly been upset at misogyny from this community, and have been using the term "transandrobro" to describe behavior they find akin to cis MRAs. I've truly seen horrible things with hundreds, sometimes thousands of notes to it that do, unfortunately, feel like women are being blamed for the plight of trans men. I've seen cis people say they were originally on MRA reddits and then came to tumblr to "confront the misandry directly" only to wholeheartedly adopt transandrophobia into their worldview. It's hard because I KNOW I shouldn't judge a community based on a few crazies but it truly does feel sometimes like "transandrophobia" gives misogynists a venue to air their woman-hating to an eager audience, kinda like how "Karen" has been co-opted beyond the og meaning of being for racist white woman to any woman being mildly rude.

So like, here it is: can transandrophobia exist without being co-opted by misogynists? Is there a threshold of proliferation for misogynists destroying this word until a new one needs to be made? Or will every word trying to identify the transmasculine experience be inevitably co-opted by misogynists because misogynists are just that powerful, so people should double down harder on the word and work to push misogynists out?

(Also am I going crazy, or did this word a year ago used to have a WAY better community than the one I see nowadays. Back then I could find your blog and really compassionate people easily, and now it's just...bad.)

It is a little hard to understand some of this post but I will do my best to answer what I think is being asked.

To put simply, I think the reason why it was better a year or two ago is because the majority of the people who were actually trying to further the conversation and not just circle jerk in the echo chamber got chased off. Transandrophobia, anti-transmasculinity, transandromisia, transmascphobia... the guys who coined these are largely either not posting at all anymore or post far far less than they used to. They were harassed and the constant exposure to transphobia made them shut down their blogs for their own mental health. Not all of them, but a lot of the so-called "big names" had this happen.

Even I stopped posting for a while and shuttered the doors for a bit outside of a long queue of dog photos because of how much it was affecting my mental health.

In their place remain people who are not committed to the same conversation. Perhaps they are younger, or less familiar with the building blocks of theory that really should be required reading, or are still stuck in their "everything sucks and it's YOUR fault" phase. Maybe they do come from different places, like 4chan or reddit, which are less prone to this sort of discussion. A lot of the original crowd had been on tumblr long enough to remember when we could still edit posts, and I keep seeing people who would have been in elementary school at that time posting to the tag nowadays.

I was discussing this problem on discord with a small group of friends and one of them- a trans fem- called it second wave transandrophobia discourse as a bitter joke. I think she is more right than wrong, regardless.

I'm not sure who you believe I've blocked- in general I don't air out who I block on this blog because at nearly 12k followers there are too many people who would love to dogpile someone for the sin of disagreeing with me and I do my best to prevent that. I don't want anyone to be harassed, after all. There's a lot of assumptions that have been made about my block and follow behavior that vary from "hilarious but untrue" to "outright offensive slander".

People are people, and some people are shitheads. Trans mascs and people who want to support trans mascs are not exempt from that. I say this all the time- Kayne West is objectively a shitty person but his existence doesn't prove the concept of antiblackness to be a myth. Caitlyn Jenner is objectively a shitty person but her existence doesn't prove the concept of transmisogyny to be a myth. So why do shitty trans mascs prove our own theory to be dangerous or nonexistent? Why hold us to a higher standard than any other marginalized group?

I could ask you the same question- there are posts on here with hundreds, sometimes thousands, of notes made by trans fems and cis women who blame their problems with transmisogyny on trans mascs. There are people coming from reddit, Twitter, 4chan who are being actively transphobic and misogynistic and claiming they're doing it for the good of transfeminism. There are posts filled with misogyny and bioessentialism and gender essentialism and even interphobia and racism and transphobia being left completely unchecked. Do you think it would be acceptable for me to ask if that means transmisogyny theory should be abandoned or if we should just accept that it will draw people with bad intentions?

Or do you think the better answer is to focus instead on finding those with a good head on their shoulders, and making sure it's them who has their voice heard? Do you think we should maybe not judge entire demographics because there exists some shitty people who claim the same identity?

[shurisneakers]

unsolved (i)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or any shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky at his little shit supreme, Very Loud reader, images and memes that all have alt texts.

A/N: yes this is literally harmless in a different font. do not ask me if anything doesn't make sense. i cannot explain. i resurface every 3 years to present you with ideas born from menty b's. ANYWAY shout out to my beloved ryan and shane. pls enjoy <3

Bucky doesn’t appeal to the youths.

Apparently. 

On God, he cannot fathom why.

He had definitely left the house in the last six months, maybe. Smiled in at least two pictures that existed on the internet. He even knew what Discord was. Sort of.  

By all accounts, he should be treated as the modern day icon that he was.  

“The youths?” he repeats, the word so foreign on his tongue it felt odd to even say it.

“Your numbers are the lowest of the whole team.” The latest tech-dude, with a tablet twelve models ahead of the one Bucky had in his room, tells him monotonously. “Wilson, Romanoff and Barton score the highest. Everyone else lies around the middle. You are dead-last.”

Bucky has the audacity to look offended. 

“Anything to say?” Their PR head, Maya, asks him, amused. 

He stares, formulating the wittiest one liner he could in three seconds.

“I don’ care,” he mumbles. 

Maya sighs. “Look, the team took the decision together. As far as I’m aware, you are still a member. You need some PR if you guys want to stay in the public’s good books.”

“No one’s gonna listen to me.” Bucky wasn’t exactly the poster child for American values. He couldn’t even vote until three years ago, and that came only after the full wrath of a Steve Rogers descended on the email inbox of the DMV. 

“That’s why it’s important to get them to like you,” Maya emphasizes. “Or the idea of you at least. A very sanitized, corporate friendly version.”

His eyebrow twitches unintentionally.  

“And also you signed the contract.”

Well. Shit. 

Truth be told��� and he has openly and rather loudly stated this on numerous occasions even especially when no one asked– he doesn’t understand why they need a PR team. The world has calmed down significantly over the last few years. Bucky hadn’t really been out crime-fighting as much as he was people-watching. There hasn’t been an earth-shatteringly dystopian-level event in the longest time, and there seemed to be a group of spandex-clad teenagers who seemed to do a good job at taking care of them when they did threaten to occur. Go kids.

Even if they needed PR, he could arguably understand the appeal of Sam and Nat and why the people would want to see more of them. Bucky, on the other hand, looked like he crawled onto Earth most days of the week. 

“What do I have to do?” he asks ultimately, knowing there was no way to get out of this. “Interviews?”

The intern shares a look with Maya. Bucky shares a look with the ceiling. 

“The team agreed to do a series of videos, each focusing on a different niche,” she begins, “Crash courses on science, pointing out mistakes in spy movies. Once a week.”

Bucky nods along. He can pinpoint Bruce and Nat for those.

Maya stares at him.

Bucky stares back.

“So,” she says slowly, like he’s a moron, “you would–”

“No.” 

The intern sighs heavily like they discussed that this was going to happen. Bucky was getting predictable. This annoys him even further, for some reason.

“Only once a week, and it doesn’t have to be anything crazy–”

“I’m not doing videos,” he interjects. “I’ll tweet a few times. I’ll even go outside. But ’m not doin’ videos.”

A big step was to get the Avengers off Twitter after the regular shit-storm that occurs every time they’d quote-tweet another politician calling them shitheads. Getting them back on seems counterproductive. 

“Fine,” Maya relents, looking at the intern. “We'll work something out.”

Bucky leans back in his chair, and meditating on ways he can weasel his way out of those too.

So they stick him in a couple of interviews.

Bucky, as the recluse extraordinaire that he was, does unsurprisingly terrible at them.

Variety does a piece on him that was supposed to take up 2 pages. They send back half a page worth of usable material and Bucky gets a lecture on how monosyllables don't count as answers.

He grunts in return. Maya’s itch to smack his shoulder with the rolled up draft increases.

They set him up for pap walks. Just him getting fast food for the team, or sitting in the park.

They don’t take into account that Bucky was trained professionally for years on how to hide, sneak in and out of places without a soul knowing he was ever there. 

The paparazzi spend three hours waiting for him outside the pizza place, while he’s been home for two hours with two demolished pepperonis and an order of mozzarella sticks. 

They give him access to his Twitter. 

He tweets some dumb shit and gets shadow banned by that evening. 

Maya is sick and tired, and the interns have shifted three times since the whole ordeal started. Bucky honestly feels a little bad. Maybe he should try to be like Scott, who not only wrote a book, finger-gunned at photographers, did an interview a week, but also agreed to a podcast and a video series about literally anything they suggested. 

“Play nice,” Sam tells Bucky one evening. 

It’s an off-hand comment, not even really looking at him while he says it. 

Bucky doesn’t need to ask what he’s referring to, but he thinks that maybe he has gone too far.

He begrudgingly agrees. 

Therefore, it begins. 

They stick him in the background of a few videos. Just to interact, add his commentary on what was going on, suggestions. 

Then the jokes really start.

“I just don’t got anything to add,” Bucky tries, in a failure of an attempt to justify his lack of contribution. 

Maya only stares at him, but Bucky swears he can hear her curse quietly, even though her lips don’t move even a millimeter.  

He is not put in another video. 

And so he finds himself here. 

In a meeting room that he’s convinced is barricaded from the outside so he can’t slither out the door again. Another intern with pink-tinted glasses that took up half their face.

Maya’s in the midst of explaining to him that sure, his numbers had gone up by a decimal, but that was because people had started editing him into the backgrounds of other pictures for other users to find in a perplexing take on Where’s Waldo.

“Videos seem to be working,” she ties it together. “But we need more than you just standing silently behind Captain Rogers.”

“But it’s working,” Bucky objects. “I don’t see why it has to change.”

Maya sends him a glare. Bucky decides then it’s good to shut up. 

“Are you on the internet a significant amount?” the intern asks. The glasses on their face have changed colours to green. Bucky’s eyebrow furrows. 

“No.” 

For the next thirty minutes, he is subjected to a pop quiz about too many words ending with ‘core’, ‘coded’ and ‘eras’. He’s surprised that he knows what cottagecore is. He definitely doesn’t fucking know what a tomatogirl, nor does he want to. 

“What do you like doing?” the intern enunciates, pulling up a spreadsheet of niches that had built a dedicated community around themselves over the years. “Makeup? Cleaning? Parkour?”

Bucky wonders if they’d really create a montage of him just micro cleaning the kitchen every week. It doesn’t sound half bad. 

Beyond that, the only thing he can think of is woodworking, which Sam introduced him to. While he spends time creating little figures, he wouldn’t say it was– 

“You really are dead silent,” the intern breaks his train of thought, tone almost that of wonder. “Guess the whole ‘ghost story for seventy years’ is more true than I thought.”

Bucky throws him a weary look, and works on unclenching the fist that tightened involuntarily. 

“Was that necessary?” Maya’s voice comes coldly. “Take fifteen. Go find the other one we were supposed to meet.”

While sheepish and somewhat apologetic, the kid still looks relieved to be out of there. To be honest, Bucky isn’t really offended– he’s grown a thick skin over the years. But he also thought the guy was a little shit now. 

Maya turns back to him, but Bucky finds that the table contains wonders far more interesting than the conversation at hand.

“Back to what we were talking about.” She ruffles through something on her laptop. “Puppets? History?”

He wordlessly shakes his head. 

Been the former, seen too much of the latter.

Maya’s head tilts abruptly. “You like ghosts?”  

He wonders if the prior conversation had anything to do with this insightful question. 

Bucky shrugs. “Don’t exist.”

“Really,” Maya deadpans. “Aliens and multiversal baboons are fine, but no ghosts.”

“I’ve seen aliens and multiversal baboons. Never seen a ghost in my life,” Bucky argues right back.

“Other people have seen ghosts.”

“Good for other people.”

The door swings open right as Maya’s eyes narrow at him. Guess it wasn’t padlocked. 

“Whatever it is you think I did, Maya, I didn’t. I think,” you announce in a volume too much for a closed room, stopping when you see Bucky sitting cross-armed and looking delightfully disgruntled. “Oh hey, Barnes. Fancy seeing you here.”

Bucky had met you. The newest addition to the team that had made a grand entrance a couple of weeks ago. He thinks you stay on the floor below him, but he has nothing backing this hypothesis other than the disco funk music that had started appearing at odd hours of the night. 

“Please sit,” Maya cracks a smile at you that Bucky had yet to earn. “Sorry, I know our meeting is scheduled for later, but I figured we could kill two birds with one stone.”

You look between her and Bucky, who hasn’t moved an inch since you got here, much less even said hello.

“You must be really bad if Maya had to call me in,” you tell him outright. “I’m usually like, her last option.”

“Thanks,” Bucky replies dryly. 

“Look, here’s my final pitch.” Maya sighs, before turning to you. “You’re new, and we need something to introduce you slowly to the public.”

“Oh, am I finally getting hard launched?” You grin, and Bucky doesn’t know what that means. “Just imagine me kicking my feet, giggling or whatever.” 

“And he needs… an upgrade.” Maya’s thumb juts out towards Bucky who simply rolls his eyes.

“Right.” Your sight lands on him from across the table. “I’ve seen the memes.”

“What memes?” he grunts, because while the team had definitely seen them, it didn't occur to anyone they should show it to him. He loves them. Really. So much. Die for them. 

You only look too happy to pull out your phone and start typing.

“Do you know what skinwalkers are?” 

“No.”

“That’s what they say you look like, lurking in the back of all your friends’ videos,” you continue, swerving around your phone to show him.

Bucky doesn’t look impressed. He can’t say he blames them either, which makes him inexplicably maddens him.  

“At least they’re calling you their boyfriend,” you add, entirely unhelpfully. “That’s gotta count.”

“Right.” Maya clears her throat. “The both of you–” 

“Are getting paired together, I suppose,” you hum. 

Bucky’s eyebrows pull together. 

He barely knows you. Just a little bit on how you ended up here, that you enjoyed hanging out with the team, figuring out your place in the compound, and were seemingly doing a great job at it. 

You were… loud. And open. 

Bucky feels the compulsive need to compensate for that by doubling down on how silent he could get, as if the two of you couldn’t co-exist in the same space in equilibrium. 

Maya pointedly raises a finger at you. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“For the right price, I will believe in whatever you tell me to.”

Her face lights up brighter than Bucky's ever seen.

“Great.” Maya slams her laptop closed. “See you later.”

Bucky’s left staring as she exits, not even throwing the both of you another look.

“That was quick,” your voice cuts through the silence. “What was that all about?”

 “Don’ ask me,” he grumbles, with a sinking feeling that he knew exactly what was about to follow. 

“Ghost hunting?” Bucky echoes a week later, as expected.

“Yes,” Maya tells him simply. “Two of you. A series based on paranormal activity.”

“I don’t even believe in them,” he reiterates. 

“That’s the point,” she emphasises. “Skeptic and believer. It makes for a good contrast.”

“Why us both?” He hopes it doesn’t come off as offensive. He just doesn’t see why he can’t do this with Sam. Even Clint, if a gun was really pressed to his head. 

“I’m new, no one gives a shit about me,” you say brightly and full of promise. “Yet.”

“Exactly. It’ll be low key. Not an overwhelming number of viewers, no expectations. It’s perfect for launching one Avenger and re-launching another.”

“Sounds rad.” You grin, leaning back as your feet rest on the chair in front of you.

Maya looks relieved for a moment that at least one of you was on board. “No promises on anything. We shoot one video, and if it does well, we stick with it.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Bucky argues. 

“Then you have until tomorrow morning to give us another feasible idea,” Maya dishes back.

Bucky retreats into his seat, arms crossed over his chest. 

Truth be told, he considered himself to be the most boring person in the team and though he had made his peace with that, he was sure thar bringing that up now would entail Maya shooting him in the foot.

“Fine,” he agrees and the sighs around the room are loud. 

He scoffs. So fucking dramatic and for what.

“Put her there, partner.” You stretch ungracefully over the large table, sticking out your hand.

Bucky eyes your hand. “Do you even believe in ghosts?” 

“I do now, yeah.” You nod seriously. “Love ‘em. Can’t get enough of them.”

“One video,” Maya reminds him as a balm. “And if it doesn’t work, you’re off the hook forever.”

Off the hook? Forever? For Bucky?

Yay. 

“One video,” he reiterates.

You roll your eyes before smiling when he leans forward to grab it. You yank it up and down clunkily. He blinks at you, letting go slowly. 

“Thank fuck,” Maya groans, head dropping onto the table. 

Your smile is wild. “Guess we’re doing this shit together.”

He doesn’t even have to look very deep in his soul. He already knows he’s going to suffer.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

to keep up with updates for this fic and others, please follow @shurisneakersupdates and turn on post notifications!

also i'd absolutely love to make this a community led fic like how harmless was! if you have memes or any paranormal ideas or just any prompts in general, please please send them my way <3

Next part

[mononijikayu]

kinktober 2024 — kayu's version.

Satoru's grin softens as he looks at you, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. His eyes are filled with something tender and deep, a look that makes your heart swell with affection.

He leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, languid kiss that seems to say everything he can't put into words. His hands are gentle as they explore your body, tracing every curve, every line, as if memorizing you by touch alone.

He pulls back slightly, his lips barely an inch from yours, his breath hot against your skin.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he whispers, his voice low and full of emotion. "And tonight… tonight is all about you."

K I N K T O B E R 2 0 2 4 —

K A Y U ' S V E R S I O N

hello, this is kayu!!!

i write to you all as i prepare for my first ever participation with kinktober!!! its quite exciting and thrilling and i am just so happy to be able to finally be a part of a new world.

a lot of what im writing is going to be only for 18 and above and as such not safe for work. i hope my dear readers understand that this means that if you are not 18 and above — do not yet read. i will have safe for work content in between these periods. please read those!!!

in any case, i am most excited to share with you the things ive been working on for all of you. im very happy with how these stories are so far and im sure by the time they are finished — they'll be something ill be most proud of.

kinktober may seem like a quite an odd concept to some but its exciting to express a horizon of expression in a different way. and im excited to express stories that will be a different shade of me once again. i hope you enjoy them!!! i love you all!!! see you in october!!!

xoxoxoxo kayu

W H A T ' S C O O K I N G ! ?

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

●OCTOBER 4TH 2024

♡ SINGER SUKUNA X SINGER READER

( e l a b o r a t e r o l e p l a y )

♯┆ why are you obsessed with me .ᐟ

— ryomen sukuna.

— no one knew how the feud of the bands started but people were here for it regardless. sukuna liked to push your buttons, you liked to push his. and really, it didn't matter. because he was here. and you were fun.

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

●OCTOBER 11TH 2024

♡ PRIEST SUGURU X WIDOW READER

( f o r b i d d e n d a l l i a n c e )

♯┆ devotion .ᐟ

— geto suguru

— twenty years passed and you moved towns with your husband, to try and forget geto suguru, your lover turned priest. now you're a widow and after all that time, your heartbeats at the sight of father geto suguru, the town's priest.

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

● OCTOBER 18TH 2024

♡ HUSBAND NANAMI X READER

( m a k e u p — c a r f u c k )

♯┆right people, wrong place .ᐟ

— nanami kento.

— you and your husband nanami kento have been estranged for a while. it was hard, hard to fathom that you and him would be separating, that he would choose duty over you. even when you drink, its his name you call to pick you up tonight.

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

●OCTOBER 25TH 2024

♡ GOJO SATORU X WIFE READER

( f i r s t t i m e )

♯┆honeymoon .ᐟ

— gojo satoru

— arranged marriages are hard, even when you're the one who made it happen. after years of marriage (and subsequently falling in love), the two of you finally decide to go and embark on a honeymoon.

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

●OCTOBER 31ST 2024

♡ FUSHIGURO TOJI X WIFE READER

( b r e e d i n g k i n k )

♯┆pillowtalk .ᐟ

— fushiguro toji

— if fushiguro toji was being honest, he'd always wanted a big family. after living a rather painful life in a loveless family, he wants to build a big, warm home. looking at it now, megumi's almost a year old. a new sibling in close age would be good, doesn't it?

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

C O M I N G S O O N ! ?

[thirstkanaphan]

You said "(this is where KQ has really dropped the ball for all the members, imo, but we can get into that discussion later)" about the solo outings.

May I humbly request that it is later now and I would very much like to know what you think about the individual forays of Ateez?? Thank you!

@storkmuffin I will happily share my mostly-coherent thoughts about this topic, although I will caveat that this is my first kpop fandom and I really don't know enough about other groups to know if what I'm saying is specific to KQ or applies to other companies.

I'm happy for others to chime in!

My opinions are scaffolded by two broad impressions of KQ as a company: first, that KQ still does not quite know what to do with the unprecedented success and demand for Ateez; second, KQ has delegated much of the promotional responsibility for Ateez to atiny/the fandom.

These impressions have been formed by nearly a year on atiny twitter, where most of the major fanbases reside. I often remind myself that the primary demographic on atiny twitter is under-25, meaning many of their complaints and concerns are based on general ignorance about how business/music industries operate...but I also have so much admiration for how the fandom has mobilized over the years to achieve great things for Ateez: their multiple music show wins, invitations to major music festivals like Mawazine (the result of endless campaigning by the Moroccan fanbase) AND, most importantly, their tireless effort to get Ateez albums distributed in the United States. While Ateez had (and still has) a distribution deal with RCA, my understanding is that they have done very little to promote Ateez and the fanbases had to campaign for their albums to be distributed through Hello82 which gave them the opportunity to debut on the BB200.

The fandom mantra has always been: Ateez only has Atiny.

For many in the fandom, this mantra also applies to how KQ has promoted the members' various solo efforts in recent years. I have mixed feelings about this sentiment, and I'll do my best to articulate them here.

When it comes to the members' solo schedules, whether it be fashion show appearances, artist collaborations, or solo music projects, KQ does the bare minimum to promote these projects to their 10.5 million instagram followers, 4.3 million twitter followers, 4.4 million youtube subscribers, and 8 million tiktok subscribers.

Let's use as an example Sagittarius by Wooyoung, which Hongjoong produced for his Ateez Present series. An original song with original choreography, and a beautifully-produced performance video available only on youtube.

The KQ promotional cycle for this song: an announcement on twitter less than a week before the premiere (often less than 48 hours); our biggest fanbase releases a clip that can be shared on twitter (KQ only posts a link) and the official Ateez account posts an IG story with a link to the video, which Wooyoung reposted to his own stories. A day or so later, they release a logbook. After a few days, it's like the song never existed...except among atiny, who created hashtags, got those hashtags trending, made fun edits, and did their best to share the song with as many people as possible, pushing Wooyoung's IG account under every viral tweet.

To compare, I looked at another recent solo release by a member of a Big4 company: Beomgyu from TXT, who released his first single Panic a couple of weeks ago. This solo had a big promotional push: weeks in advance, HYBE rolled out concept photos, teaser clips, and an official hashtag campaign. You can easily access all this content in the highlighted stories tab on TXT's official IG page, which remains up to this day.

I may be ignorant, but this really doesn't seem like an impossible strategy for KQ to replicate, given the money they've already invested in producing these solo tracks. There was practically no promotion for San or Yunho's solo projects. Mingi really seemed to be in the room when they promoted Autobahn: that release got a lot more build-up and attention, perhaps because of its collaboration with Yumin.

One major complaint among atiny is that songs like Sagittarius or Autobahn are not available on streaming, and to be clear: none of the Ateez Present or Fix Off Project songs are available on spotify or apple music. Large parts of the fandom point to KQ as failing their artists by not making their solo projects available for streaming.

I share the somewhat contrarian opinion of those who argue that these solo projects are largely artistic ventures by the members, driven by their desire to make music for themselves to share with atiny. Making them available to stream transforms these songs into another metric, diluting their artistic value by replacing it with commercial value, and we cannot guarantee that those numbers will hold up to the hype of the fandom (streaming numbers are the no.1 metric used against Ateez in fanwars).

This is perhaps a naive opinion to hold, given that KQ is a company and making money is their primary goal. A more realistic explanation is that there are complicated logistics involved in putting a song on spotify, including artist royalties, licensing fees, and copyright. It may just be easier and mores straightforward to upload something to youtube....

But that still doesn't excuse the minimal promotion expended towards these projects. Frankly, it's short-sighted of KQ not to see that the more attention paid to these solo ventures enhances the overall Ateez brand.

And as a counterpoint, Jongho's recent cover got minimal promo, even though that song is available for streaming.

There's a separate and parallel argument to be made about the members' foray into the fashion world. For their recent appearances at Paris and Milan Fashion Weeks, the official Ateez accounts merely reposted reels and stories; the fandom once again came up with strategies to get hashtags trending and put together guidelines for how to generate EMV and MIV (we achieved great results for San at D&G and Wooyoung for Courreges). To KQ's credit, we did get excellent logbooks documenting Seonghwa and Mingi's fashion week journeys.

However, poor Yunho also had a fashion week appearance: Seoul Fashion Week...but he never got any promo, not even a logbook. It's like it never happened.

There's something to be said about how the small-company mentality of KQ has enabled the members to grow their individual brands in ways that feel organic and suited to their unique personalities: Seonghwa met Isabel Marant at a party in LA and now he's the face of their international campaign; Mingi landed the Calvin Klein gig and his recent Marie Claire photoshoot due to his own networking; Hongjoong met Odetari at a song camp, and they decided to collab (Hongjoong's collaboration with Odetari, which went viral for Hongjoong's lyrics allegedly dissing Bang PD, got next to no promotion by KQ. Odetari did a lot of the heavy lifting to promote that track and made cute animated mvs on his youtube channel and tiktok. It also bears noting that Hongjoong collaborated with a Palestinian American musician, while many Big4 companies are actively being boycotted by kpop fans for their associations and investments with Zionist companies). KQ appears not to dictate what their artists can and cannot do when it comes to their solo schedules, but also seem disinclined to make extraordinary (or industry-standard) efforts to support these ventures, except in rare cases.

There's still so much we don't know about their contracts and what will change when they inevitably renew those contracts. We also know that Ateez now works with an external PR firm for their European fashion schedules, which is perhaps why we saw SO MUCH attention during their recent fashion week appearances.

Yet their solo music promotion remains a mystery to me, and I'd love to hear from anyone who has more to say about this topic!

My final thought is that KQ's reliance on the fandom to do the promotional work will inevitably backfire. Our fandom is growing but with a lot of casual fans who have only ever known Ateez as a globally successful idol group, and not the underdogs whose remarkable achievements were (and still are) underpinned by the invisible labor of their dedicated fans and fanbases. Whenever a member's solo project fails to hit 1 million views within the first week, the fandom goes into blame-mode, tearing itself apart for our lack of support to the members, especially after everything they do for us. This isn't sustainable nor healthy. KQ needs to take on a lot more of the promotional burden now, especially since they have the means to do so.

We will see how that goes with the next comeback!

Thanks for the question, and thanks for letting me ramble.

[yourlittlebunnyy]

try again -tamlin x reader

masterlist

summary: after a fight in the Night Court, Y/n seek refuge in the Spring Court where she finds a old lover again.

warnings: ofc none

w/c: 5k

enjoy🎀

"Are you telling me you want Feyre to destroy an entire Court-of allies against Hybern, dammit-just because of a love affair gone wrong?"

Right now you don't care much about the consequences your words will cause you, and you certainly don't care that you are raising your voice to the High Lord of the Court of Night. Rhysand merely stares at you with glacial violet eyes, his stern face painted with total indifference. Here is the one you hate: not your friend, but the High Lord. The one who reserves glances of superiority for you and makes you feel stupid every time you open your mouth. But it is not he who answers you, but rather Cassian, always the first to put Rhysand before everyone, before even himself.

"Speak more respectfully to your High Lady." You cannot stop your face from contorting into a grin. The concept of High Lady was invented by Rhysand and has no real value, you think, now they're going to resent Tamlin for that too? Besides the fact that Feyre has no political experience, hell, she wasn't even a Fae until recently, how do they expect her to lead a Court?

Mor, as usual interested in putting straw on the fire, speaks in a honeyed voice, "Are you still pining for Tamlin, Y/n? We thought that time was over." You feel your cheeks go flaming with anger. You want to respond, but Azriel, always the pacifist in the countless confrontations you've had with your friends, gets in the way. The blonde doesn't seem to relent even when the winged male tells her to stop, and your face shifts to Rhysand, who sits in his study chair settling more comfortably on the backrest, enjoying the show. There's no point in arguing, you think. You roll your eyes, and under everyone's gaze but without saying a word, you leave the room.

You love your family, but sometimes they really seem dumber than a goat. You are not a High Lady, no, and certainly your job does not include ruling a Court, but you know perfectly well too that whatever Feyre is doing is wrong. But you don't blame her: Rhysand can be persuasive, and probably the destruction of the Spring Court was more his idea than the Feyre's, he's still attached to events that happened five centuries ago.

You just don't understand, given the delicate period Prythian is going through, why tear down an entire Court. One more ally against Hybern. And above all, mixing politics and personal conflicts? Never a good idea. Not to mention Mor, and Rhysand's attitude. And... everything. You are tired, and with a sigh you walk out of the huge building and down the main street of Velaris, taking more time to think. Normally you would have winnoved in your apartment on the edge of town, but you feel the need to blow off some steam.

Too bad your little walk doesn't help, in fact. Seeing people so carefree and naive makes you see red, because they have that chance, and the rest of the Night Court doesn't. You've always tried to push the issue, trying to get as many women and children into Velaris as possible, but Rhysand has always been very firm about the rules. Slowly you realize that maybe they are not friends, or even family, as you allowed yourself to call them years ago. You don't share their choices, their ways, their governance. You don't share any thoughts. But you are stuck. Where could you possibly go?

You arrive home and the first thing you do is undress and prepare a hot bath. Once you are done, with only a towel you head into the small kitchen, determined to make yourself some tea and take a tonic to sleep, exhausted from this day.

At your table you find Azriel. That's right, you had forgotten that you now share an apartment with him. You greet him by calling his name, and he looks at you curiously, almost worriedly.

"Are you okay?" He asks, and you're not quite sure how to answer. Normally you are not so unhappy, but today's fight hit you hard. It has opened your eyes. Feyre, here for so little, is already more important than you. Not to mention how they make you feel inadequate and stupid, as if your opinion doesn't count for anything. You don't respond, not trusting your voice, and simply shrug. Azriel gets up and takes the tea-making supplies from your hands.

"I'll do it." He says kindly, and you murmur a thank you, and decide to get dressed in the meantime. When you return from your room, tea is poured into a steaming mug on the table.

"Two teaspoons of sugar, just the way you like it." This brings a smile back to your face, and you begin to sip the sweet liquid careful not to burn your tongue. "You can tell me what's going on, you know."

You think about it for a while before answering, but eventually decide that you have nothing to lose. "I don't want to be here anymore." Azriel looks at you surprised.

"Do you mean... in this apartment, or...?"

"No. I want to leave the Night Court. I don't want to work for Rhysand anymore, I'm exhausted." You sigh, and tears sting your eyes. Azriel looks at you sympathetically.

"Don't you feel at home anymore?" You shake your head, and are glad you confided in him. If anyone can understand you, it is certainly Azriel. He nods, silence takes over, and the only sound is the jarring sound of a teaspoon used to stir the tea, hoping to cool it slightly.

"Maybe you should leave, then." He says simply, his tone serene. You did not expect such a reaction, but you are grateful for it. A bitter laugh shakes your shoulders. "And where?"

Azriel shrugs. "Everywhere. Anywhere you want." I suppress his words by really considering it.

"What about Rhysand?"

"I could... help you." He says finally, and his words mean so much to you right now.

"Would you really do that?" He merely nods. "I ... thank you."

Not long after, the tea now cold and the cookies you kept inside the drawer now gone, the plan is decided. You will contact an old friend at the Spring Court, and ask her for refuge.

Azriel will accompany you to the edge of the Spring Court, helping you carry your things and offering emotional support.

"Are you sure this is the right choice? Feyre..." You nip his speech in the bud with a hand gesture. You've thought long and hard about where to go. But you have no contacts besides this friend in other Courts, and despite your history with Tamlin... you can do it.

"I'll come and see you, you know."

"I hope so."

"Will I ever know what happened between you and him?"

The question leaves you speechless, your body stiffens and you freeze for a moment, but you are quick to recover. You take a deep breath before speaking again.

"We loved each other. But then... Amarantha came and..." You don't say more than that, you don't explain further, but Azriel understands and doesn't ask questions.

"So...we'll see each other, yes?"

"Sure. I'm counting on it, Az." And with a final hug, you turn and enter the Court of Spring without looking back.

The first few weeks proceed slowly, but positively. You get up in the morning when the sun is already high in the sky, a warm breeze caressing your legs as you step out onto the small balcony with hot tea warming your hands. Your friend had to leave shortly after your arrival, and she will be back in who knows how long, leaving her home all to yourself. By now you have built a routine: you wake up and sip the sweet drink, you read until lunch, you cook, and in the afternoon you take care of chores. But your favorite activity so far has definitely been going to the local market. It is so different from how you remember.... And yet so much the same. The air of fear you felt because of Amarantha has ceased, though a small trickle of it remains because of Hybern. The stalls overflow with fruits and vegetables of all kinds, colors and scents. It makes you smile with familiarity every time you pass by.

Today you woke up determined to make some treats, but you are missing some ingredients, forcing you to go to the market. You quickly slip into one of your friend's clothes, and grab a picnic basket on your way out the door smiling. There is no doubt that you are happier now.

"Hi, honey! What can I get you today?" Alyna, a delightful female with whom you have bonded a lot these past weeks, greets you cheerfully.

"Hey, Aly! Um, could you make a mix of all the fruit?" You ask quietly, and the fae is quick to give you whatever you need. You admire the way she fiddles with her hands, but at the same time she's conversing with you-she's really good at everything, you think.

"So how are you finding yourself?"

"Great, really great. I'm really happy with my choice." She smiles at you as she helps you arrange the food in the basket. "I'm glad about that. Come see me for tea once in a while!"

"Of course, how much do I owe you?"

"Oh, dear, but don't worry!" After further insistence, she allows you to leave her a couple of gold coins. Much more than she actually needs, but she deserves it.

You opt to take another tour of the stalls before heading home. One in particular catches your eye, the colorful clothes too beautiful not to be admired. You are so busy running the pink fabric under your fingertips that you hardly recognize the voice next to you. Your body seems to do so before you even realize who the male next to you is. But then it's clear as day: the crisp, rainy, earthy scent, so unique and delicious.The blond hair and the broad warrior shoulders. It hasn't changed one bit. Your whole body is stiff, but you take a deep breath. You prepared for this moment; you knew you would see him again sooner or later.

Things between you and Tamlin did not end badly, but neither did they end well. It wasn't even a relationship you had: you barely had time to get to know each other and fall in love before Amarantha yanked him away from you. You suffered a long time for something that never even happened. But you know there won't be another chance like that: Tamlin has loved, no-loves Feyre with all of himself. He has moved on. And so have you, of course. But he will forever remain a crack in your heart.

The merchant's voice brings you back to reality. "Miss, are you interested in the dress?" You look at her wide-eyed, confused.

"Excuse me?" The sound of your voice makes the male, who has remained unaware of your presence until now, turn around.

"I was asking if you were interested in the dress."

"Y/n?"

"I, um. No, thank you. Sorry for wasting your time." Your tone is confused, you feel Tamlin's gaze burning your skin as he approaches. You feel his presence all over you.

"Don't worry, dear." The merchant walks away, leaving you alone with him.

"Y/n... what are you doing here?" For the first time in fifty years you allow yourself to look into his eyes, and it's as if the world is falling apart and rebuilding at the same time.

"Tamlin..." Tears wet your eyes as you try to show strength in front of the male you loved so strongly before. And who has now lost his mind for another female.

"What are you doing here?" The anger in his face, in his voice makes you take a step back.

"I-I ran away. I didn't fit in, and an old friend offered me to stay with her here." He lets out an annoyed snort.

"Of course, they didn't send you, did they?"

"No. I--there's something you need to know, Tamlin, about Feyre. I'm not in the habit of getting involved in matters that I don't-" He doesn't even let you finish the sentence.

"Feyre and I are just fine, and I won't let your Court get in the way one more time."

"No-"

"No, Y/n. You made your choice half a century ago when you chose him over me. Now I am making my choice. You better get out of my Court, you are no longer welcome."

And so, as he came so suddenly, he goes away, leaving you standing there like a fool. You compose yourself as best as you can and set out on your way home, tears flowing freely down your cheeks in the meantime.

You didn't bake anymore. As soon as you returned, you took a hot bath and a sleeping tonic, which has now become your trusted go-to solution. You woke up a few hours later, in the middle of the night, the effect of the tonic wearing off. Thoughts invaded your head, and it was only after hours of tossing and turning in bed and the sun coming up by now that you decided to write a letter to him. You get up and grab a pen and paper, your hands trembling with excitement. You cannot let Feyre find out about this, or your whole plan will be blown. You wish you had Azriel by your side to give you advice.

Dear Tamlin,

I apologize for making such an impetuous introduction to your Court, and especially without official notice. I wanted to let you know that I no longer work for the Night Court and have left of my own free will, but I have some important things to discuss with you, and they concern the security of your Court. I hope you can understand, and I hope to see you soon so we can talk about it. In case this does not happen, I hope to get you permission to reside in your territory, and I warn you not to trust those close to you.

Best regards,

Yours, Y/n.

With a sigh you close the letter and don't even wait for the sun to fully rise: you leave the house with a light cloak to cover you from the cool breeze and take the letter to the nearest village messenger.

The reply comes sooner than expected. It is simple and informal, and you sincerely hope that everything has gone according to plan and that it is not a trap set by Feyre, or worse, Rhysand himself.

Meet me at the market this afternoon after lunch.

Tamlin.

You reread the small sheet of paper a hundred times before getting ready. A way of nostalgia invades your senses one by one, but you chase it away violently. You don't have time for this. You must help him save himself and save his own court before it is too late.

"Y/n?" Tamlin notices you first as you wait for him at the same stall as last time. You turn quickly, so fast that you lose your balance and risk falling, but the male has quick reflexes and catches you before that can happen.

"You haven't changed a bit." His wry comment lightens the air around you, but it weighs down the burden in your chest that you feel. However, you do not give it away. You are here for a very specific reason, and you don't even know how much time you have left. You cannot be distracted by events that happened years and years ago.

"Tamlin." You greet him. "I'm here to warn you." You don't reveal everything right away; you're still trying to figure out if he would be willing to believe you or not. You know it's not easy for him. His expression turns cloudy, but he invites you to continue. You send down a knot in your throat before you speak again.

"It's about Feyre. I-I know it's hard to believe, but she didn't come back to you. Rhysand appointed her as High Lady, and you let her into your territory as a spy for the Night Court. She will destroy you, you can't-. you can't-we can't afford that in a time of war." You talk so fast that you stumble over the words occasionally, not stopping to breathe even once. Tamlin is almost tempted to invite you to breathe and explain more calmly, but your words cloud his eyes with anger.

"You... you-" He cannot even find the words to tell you after such a revelation.

"No, you have to believe me. Maybe-let me show you." Your tone is almost pleading, and at this point there would be no point in denying it to you. Tamlin knows you: you may have chosen him fifty years ago, but you have never been a liar.

You show him everything you can. It's been a long time since you've entered his mind, and the feeling is so familiar that your heart tightens. You focus on what you have to show him, and you don't think about it. After what seems like hours, you get to the last fight that happened with Rhysand, and when you get out of his mind his posture is slumped, tired, exhausted. You feel sorry for him, just as Mor had said, and you feel sorry for everything he seems to be feeling right now.

"Is he really ... so much better than me?" He finally asks, and it's not what you expected. You want to hug him, to tell him that no, absolutely not, never, never could Rhysand be, but you hold back.

"No." You just say, searching his eyes with yours, but not finding them. His face is low, probably trying to hide what look like ... tears, from the people in his Court. "Tamlin..."

"No, no...it's all right. I'll send her away now, you can stay as long as you like." The answer should make you happy, but it doesn't. His tone is so pained that you yourself begin to cry. You find it very ironic, how you are crying for him but he is probably crying for another female.

He leaves without saying a word to you. Just like last time.

Months go by. The war against Hybern has been fought and you haven't seen Tamlin once again. You have not taken part in the fighting despite your training. You do not feel like seeing such death. But you know that the Spring Court did, and it was also thanks to them that Prythian won against Hybern.

Azriel has visited you a handful of times since then, and he has always been very apprehensive and kind to you. No one yet knows where you ended up, and you will never be more grateful to anyone than him for keeping quiet.

Your dear friend has also returned, and together with her you have managed to find a small apartment in the nearest village, allowing you to take more part in the social side of your life.

It feels strange to return to the market once the war is over. A feeling of peace and total relaxation fills the air and feels surreal to you. You are not used to it, but you welcome it with open arms.

"Hey, honey, how are you?" Alyna, who has become one of the closest friends you have, asks you.

"It's such a nice day today, it's better than usual, or is it not?" You say lightheartedly, a big smile makes its way onto your face. Not just because of the war, you realize. You've finally managed to build a life for yourself away from the people who were giving you misery. Only one small question mark remains in your life, and that is Tamlin, but you realize there is not much you can do about it. You wonder why you still can't get over him after all this time. Is it the same for him, too? Surely not. Surely he will feel what you are feeling now, but for another female. The thought alone is capable of hurting you, but you drive it away, focusing on the figure in front of you.

"Yes, finally the burden of war no longer hangs over Prythian, I would say. Would you like some coffee?" And how could you say no.

When you get home in front of your door you find a letter. It comes from the Court, but it is not Tamlin's handwriting. It is an invitation, you realize when you open it, you have been invited to a formal ball to celebrate the end of the war.

You are delighted, this makes you a citizen in your own right, but you are also weirded out. From the invitation it appears to be a formal ball, and although you were an emissary long ago, at the Spring Court you are nothing more than a simple peasant girl, who like everyone else gets her food from what she produces, why would you attend such an event? More importantly, will the Night Court participate?

You put the countless doubts to rest with a bath and a sleeping tonic.

The next morning, you head to the village with one goal firmly set in your mind: you need an elegant and appropriate outfit for the Spring Court. All the formal dresses you own clearly belong to the Night Court, and although they are beautiful and elegant, by the time you have tried one on you have realized that you would not be comfortable. And also, if others will be present you want to show them that you are now no longer part of their Court. That this is your home, and you are happier than ever.

You walk into an old weaver's store that you've been to a couple of times before and you've always been comfortable.

"Y/n! What a pleasure to have you here, what would you need?" The female greets you warmly as always, and you reciprocate with equal affection.

"I would need a dress for a dance. Something simple but nice." The Fae squares your figure with watchful eyes, and you can almost see the wheels turning behind her eyes.

"Try this on."

After a whole afternoon spent inside her cuddly little store, and no less than three delightful new dresses, you finally manage to get home. It seems almost out of place to have three such exquisite and expensive dresses in your hands in such a tiny, bare apartment, but you were unable to say no in front of such beauty, such art expressed in fabric. You go to sleep with still a broad smile on your lips, perhaps in spite of everything you would not have minded going back to the court events.

The next day you wake up and instead of your usual reading, you do household chores, since you were supposed to be in the Spring Palace in the evening.

You gather fresh eggs and feed the animals, pick various fruits from the trees, and finally take a nice refreshing bath. You spend the afternoon getting ready, and just as the sun is about to set, you transmute in front of the Palace.

The feeling that overtakes you is ... it makes your stomach clench in agitation. It has been more than fifty years since you set foot in its home, but it has not changed one bit. The gardens are immense and full of sweetly and delicately scented flowers, the hallways are filled with gold and riches on every side. A Fae you don't recognize at the entrance to the ballroom asks you for an invitation, and you cheerfully hand it to him.

You don't immediately feel comfortable when you enter, and you make your eyes roam all over the room looking for the familiar figures of the Night Court, but you meet no one. In fact, no one from other Courts seems to be present. Your eyes wander again and again, until they meet those of a tall, relaxed-faced male. Tamlin. He sips an amber liquid from a gold-decorated glass as he talks happily with Lucien. Oh, how you've missed him, too.

When he notices you, he seems to take his leave and you stare at him as he crosses the entire room to join you. Your heart beats so fast that you are sure he can hear it as he gives you a slight bow and takes your hand, laying a gentle kiss on your knuckles. He leaves you the spot where he placed his lips almost thrilling.

"Y/n, you are stunning." He says, smiling gently at you, and the way he acts confuses you a little. You don't want to be anyone's spare tire. But at the same time, it ... it's all so much the same, it's as if 50 years had never passed. You've been hoping Tamlin would compliment you, after all the effort you put into fixing your hair, face and dress, and now that he does -- you're confused.

"Thank you, Tamlin. To what do I owe your invitation?" You decide to be direct.

"That's exactly what I wanted to talk about." He moves causing you to step forward in front of him, lays a warm hand on your uncovered back, and guides you to the banquet full of treats, away from the center of the room. "Help yourself." You don't serve yourself, despite all that food being extremely tempting, but instead you wait for him to speak. He sighs. "I wanted to thank you. For your warning. If she had carried out her plan-I don't even know if this Court would have stood."

"Of course, Tamlin. From my side I wanted to ... apologize." No apology was planned, but you owe him one.

He shrugs, dismissing the question with his hand.

"That's okay, I hope now that it's all over ... we can keep in touch. If you'd like to come to these kinds of events." You don't answer, but your smile speaks for you. You don't dance together, but it's the beginning of something wonderful, something that already happened a long time ago.

After almost a month, another invitation arrives. It is a dance where the other Seasonal Courts are also invited, so it will be even more exclusive, fortunately you still have two more dresses and most importantly, there will be no Night Court.

You quiver and are even more agitated than last time, you feel like a little novice girl. You avoid drinking any more coffee in the morning, not wanting to increase your nerves even more than they already are. You again spend the whole afternoon getting ready and transmute once more in front of his palace, the honeyed scent of flowers welcoming you just as you remembered. Your heart begins to beat wildly. You enter the hall and your eyes automatically land on Tamlin. You missed him, you realize.

"Y/n! Good to see you." The blond-haired male once again makes his way to join you. "You look as lovely as ever." His eyes burn on your figure, bolder than last time. He hands you a colorful drink and you gladly accept it.

"You look lovely too, Tamlin." You sip the pink liquid in the glass, a sweet and sour taste invades your mouth. "It's delicious, what is it?" You ask charmed. The male chuckles.

"Something new from the kitchen, but I don't know what it is either." He seems to hesitate a bit, but finally speaks, his cheeks slightly flushed. "Do you want to dance?"

Your knees almost buckle. "My pleasure." You say all too quickly. He holds out a hand to you, and after placing the glasses on a nearby table, you direct me to the middle of the dance floor, all eyes on you.

You dance in silence all evening. One dance turns into two, then three, and then into a whole night. When the music ends by now there are only a few people left, you are sweaty and out of breath, but you are happy. As happy as you've ever been. Deep laughter shakes your body, finally infecting Tamlin as well.

"I haven't danced in a long time." You say once you've calmed down, almost as justification for your behavior.Tamlin merely smiles at you. You head to the banquet and he hands you a large glass of water, and you are eternally grateful. You drink it down in one gulp.

"So...see you, Y/n?" He asks you uncertainly. You nod smilingly.

Only a handful of days pass when a letter arrives. But it's not a formal invitation, no. You recognize Tamlin's handwriting and can still smell him in the air. Has he been here? You quickly return and toss the basket full of crops at the doorway, eager to open the envelope with trembling hands.

Dear Y/n,

I would have liked to tell you in person, but I couldn't find you at home. I hope it's okay to have asked your friend for your address. Be ready tonight after dinner.

Yours, Tamlin.

Your body freezes before rejoicing in laughter coming from your heart. You get right down to business: do your usual routine, bath, hair, and finally your dress. You don't wear an elegant one, but a simple, typical Spring Court dress that Alyna gave you. You do sweet braids and don't wear makeup, but use your favorite perfume. Your favorite perfume. Someone knocks on the door at dusk, and it only takes a few moments for you to open it.

"Hey, Y/n." His eyes linger all over your body, he runs his tongue over his lips, and you can't help but stare.

"Hi." You greet him simply, a shy smile on your lips and slightly rosy cheeks. It's a date, you realize.

"Thank you for accepting."

"Did I have a choice?" He chuckles, then shakes his head.

"Of course you did. But I wanted to take you somewhere." He smiles at you. He holds out his hand and you grasp it, one moment you are in the doorway of your apartment, the next you are on a meadow covered with pale flowers and a cool stream. You look around in wonder. You had missed these places, so much that you didn't even realize it.

"It's... it's gorgeous." You comment in amazement. He nods, the stars reflected in his eyes giving him a poetic air. You would like to touch him now more than ever.

"I would have liked to have had more time, with you." He says after what seems like an eternity spent staring at you and nothing else. You nod, step forward, and he does the same. The warm breeze ruffles your hair, and you make to raise a hand and fix it, but he is quicker and moves a strand behind your ear. Just as he did one night long ago, and countless other times.

"Tamlin..." He shushes you with a kiss. It is sudden and leaves you breathless. It takes you a couple of seconds to recover and reciprocate with as much passion, as much feeling. You both pull away reluctantly, your breath heavy and your cheeks flushed. You can feel her heart beating incessantly, in the same rhythm as yours.

"I've been wanting to do this ever since I saw you again." He says and makes you chuckle, because it was exactly the same for you. "I've missed you."

"I missed you, too. So much." You answer and kiss him again. And again, again, again.

You have been denied for fifty years and now you don't have enough, you want to take back the time you lost. You must eventually break away one more time, making you moan in frustration.

"Let's try again." He says with his lips still resting on yours, your breaths mingling together.

"Let's try again."

[marsupials-of-mars]

I have a theory. It's a lot of speculation, but an interesting thought:

Euclidea was a hivemind. Or, at least part of it.

This is my main "evidence." The line "One of the few conciousnesses" and referring to the lonely humans as "you" somewhat implies that he himself is or was part of a hivemind consciousness. Like, for example, a fungal spore network.

With what we know of Euclidea (strict adherence to rules, valuing uniformity, fearing non-uniformity), it wouldn't be a surprise.

What constitutes as a "hivemind" here is vague, and if it is the case with Euclidea, it doesn't mean that all of the Euclideans were the same person with the same shared knowledge.

It may be more of an extrasensory connectedness, uniform patterns of thought, a general understanding of what others are experiencing/feeling, physically or mentally. This aligns with some of Bills powers: reading minds, possessing multiple corpses all using his own voice, seeing through many eyes (not necessarily simultaneously, but as "peepholes")

If we follow this idea, it makes the Euclideans seem less like fascists and more like people looking out for their community. So averse to a reality-breaking mutation because it posed a threat to the minds of anyone connected to bill.

Maybe, rather than forcing baby bill to be medicated just to make him normal, his parents were doing what they thought was best not just for their child, but for their people.

(^ I'll admit some of these screenshots are more "thematic" than "evidence")

Maybe it was so easy for Bill to destroy his whole dimension much by accident because all he had to do was stop taking his meds, and let this mutation which nobody else was physiologically able to handle into the minds of those people.

He felt so stifled that he made the conscious decision to endanger people; it wasn't fully an accident, nor was it fully violent in intent. But his choices directly resulted in the massacre.

All this to say, this concept is mostly just more fuel for angst. Bill not only destroyed friends and family, but pieces of himself. His blue flames and red anger aren't just influences or genetics from his parents, because his parents weren't just parents; They were pieces of himself.

He was alone in the universe, but it was worse than that. He was alone, truly alone with his thoughts, without knowing how to even process what "his" thoughts were, or what "alone" really meant.

He blacks out when he recalls the day he tried to fuse everyone into his own individual perspective, because the memories missing are the memories of countless dying people.

He's an idea. Not a soul, not a conciousness, because the soul was shared among his whole race of people.

Maybe this could be why he's so desperate for attention, belonging, friends, and family: He's desperately trying to fill in the gaps of his own consciousness.

And, it could explain why he's so, so very bad at it: Because he can't conceptualize the desires of individuals. They should all want what he wants, think like he does, that's how it's supposed to be when you love someone!

Your family is an extension of yourself, so why wouldn't they want to make you happy? If you're happy, everyone is happy!

He's a handful of selfish thoughts that persisted after the soul they belonged to was destroyed.

Now don't come at me with your conspiracy pants on and tell me how little evidence I have and how unsubstantiated and speculative all this is, I KNOOOWW but I'm having fun and playiiingg!!

[iamnmbr3]

Do you have any interesting headcanons or thoughts on Auror Partners drarry? Genuinely curious, I love the idea of them being forced into an unlikely partnership and having to trust each other in potentially life-threatening situations.

Yeah! I don't usually hc Draco as becoming an Auror but also..I love the concept of drarry being Auror partners.

Everyone expects a ton of drama during training but actually they get on surprisingly well. Oh things are awkward at first, of course. But Draco is one of the few people who knew Harry before and sees him as somewhat human and doesn't idolize him for killing Voldemort. I mean, he's kinda weird and uncomfortable around Harry but that's because of the guilt and their whole history. Not the Chosen One thing. And similarly Harry knows Draco as more than the infamous Death Eater who was once in Voldemort's inner circle (not that he was ever Voldemort's favorite or even close, but that's how it gets told in the Prophet).

Plus they both have a lot of shared experiences and can understand each other. They're the only two people in the room who have actually been around Voldemort for any length of time or really know anything about him as more than an abstract, terrifying concept. So there's a bond there too.

The first time they duel everyone expects something dramatic but instead they both just don't want to strike first to the point that it's comedic and that breaks the tension. By the end of training they are almost friendly.

And on missions they work together extremely well. Their skills compliment each other perfectly. At some point inevitably they end up in a tight situation with some neo Death Eater type cultists and Draco gets them out of it (and gets the cultists to spill all their plans) by pretending to be a true ideologue (aka doing his best imitation of his Aunt Bellatrix). Harry, who canonically was impressed/attracted by Ginny's ability to lie well in book 5, thinks this is probably not the moment to suddenly be filled with thoughts of how fit Draco is...but what can he do?

It works. Theres a big fight. Reinforcements arrive. Harry gets knocked out somehow - probably while doing his go-to action hero stunt of just physically throwing his whole self at people. He wakes up to find that they caught the cultists but unfortunately the Ministry bought Draco's lie a bit too much and threw him in a holding cell till Harry could wake up and verify what actually happened. Harry is NOT pleased. On the one hand, Draco isn't that pleased either. On the other hand the fallout leads to Harry kissing him in front of 20 traumatized Ministry employees so all in all it seems worth it.

[zablife]

Benny x Flower Child

Benny Cross Masterlist

A/N: A lovely anon's request to see Benny with a woman who loves and accepts him for who he is. Since it's the '60s, I thought the concept of Benny meeting a free spirited flower child fit really well.

🌼 At first the Vandals dismiss your relationship as a fling without much of a future. After all, how can two people who cherish their freedom as much as a biker and a hippie ever hope to hold each other down?

🌼 The first time Benny brings you to meet everyone, the wives note your lack of jealousy when someone flirts with your man and frankly find it suspicious how you live in your own little world of pleasure separate from Benny as your silvery voice floats above the campfire like a siren song meant to attract their men.

🌼 The guys in the club take to you with immediate enthusiasm, listening to your tales of carefree adventure as Benny looks on with a lovesick smile. They recognize the mischievous twinkle like Benny gets in his eye and they see your shared sense of wanderlust.

🌼 It comes as a shock to everyone when you don't move on over the next few weeks, accepting Kathy's offer to stay at her place so you can plant a little garden in the back yard and watch it grow.

🌼 Your role as a nurturer becomes even more apparent when the guys from the club come around sick or hurt. You always seem to have a home remedy available to heal them.

🌼 It becomes a running joke that Kathy's porch is the place for strays when dogs begin to appear alongside the men, all drawn to your empathetic spirit.

🌼 Benny too finds himself orbiting around the same unlikely center of domesticity, hunched over Kathy's ring stained coffee table as you read his tarot cards.

🌼 "You actually believe all that hocus pocus?" the guys heckle him through the screen door, but the goosebumps he feels prickling his arm as you reveal the lovers card time and time again answers the question for him, the temptation of his heart revealed long before he's able to speak the words.

🌼 Late at night when he's fitful, you remind him of his place and purpose, guiding him out onto the roof to gaze up at the stars. Huddled together under a blanket, chain smoking and pointing out constellations, you feel the tension leave his body as his restless mind shuts off.

🌼 Eventually this ritual takes on a new meaning, the vastness of the night sky reminding you both how much living you have to do. So you pack the same worn satchel you arrived with and Benny takes you away for places unknown.

🌼 You stop to say goodbye to Johnny, tho he says he doesn't know why you're leaving the safety of the home you've made with the Vandals. He couldn't possibly understand that from now on home is wherever you and Benny are together, wild and free.