#it's honestly baffling to hear that I inspire anyone or that people are still reading my writing today aksdjfh

[orange-imagines]

HI! I really love your work and I am new to tumbl and I just really wanted to tell you that you are an amazing writer 😄! I only have written a little but I always find inspiration when I am reading on your blog! Again, love your work! 😋

Aw thank you so much! It’s always super nice to hear that people like my writing that much, and I’m really glad to have been able to inspire you from time to time as well! Thanks a lot for the message, you’re so sweet <3

[gregrulzok]

Mitsuya, Hakkai, and Gay Coding

So the Tokyo Revengers' fandom's notorious and rampant homophobia makes this topic almost impossible to discuss anywhere outside of Tumblr... But I at least wanted to touch on it here.

Mitsuya and Hakkai are almost certainly gay coded, and there's a reason it's important.

Mitsuya is gay coded individually. He's written to be read as a young gay teen.

The most compelling piece of evidence to this is his Home Economics class. He is the only man there, seemingly friends with a ton of girls, who all seem to trust and like him.

Note here that Japanese culture isn't American culture - men being casual friends with women isn't as normalized as it may be here, and in most places a man in an otherwise all-woman club would be considered to be trying to "get with" one or more of them. We never, ever hear this about Mitsuya.

In fact, Mitsuya is one of the few TR characters that we see show no interest whatsoever in women. The most notable scene here is the beach scene, Kazutora and Pah-Chin both stare at the women in bikinis, but Mitsuya and Draken instantly dash to the ocean without paying it any attention. This is even pointed out by Kazutora, who remarks on how strange it is that neither of them cared.

("So is Draken gay coded?" My heart says yes, but his relationship with Emma says no. Draken is just desensitised to seeing female bodies.)

And of course, sewing and fashion, very stereotypically feminine things, are Mitsuya's main interests. While it's not exactly progressive to say that effeminate = gay, I implore you once again that this is all being written by an old Japanese ex-gang member, and not a modern day American LGBT teen.

My point is that, though it's a little stereotypical, Mitsuya has many qualities that would liken him to an old-school depiction of a gay teen. Which, in a way, is in line with the old-school aesthetic and worldview of Yankees and Yankee culture.

Now - Hakkai.

Hakkai is not gay coded individually - he's a model, but that's not seen as a particularly effeminate thing, and he's shown to have some interest in girls, seeing as he freezes up talking to them.

However, Hakkai is absolutely intended to be read as having a crush on Mitsuya. Honestly I can't even bring myself to write a paragraph explaining it, so here's a bullet list of things Hakkai has done:

Repeatedly remarked how much he "really likes" Mitsuya, coupled with other characters talking about this. This is not something that happens to any other duo with this frequency.

Set Mitsuya's face as his phone lockscreen.

Immediately thought of Mitsuya when the words "I like him" were spoken.

Said "Who wouldn't fall in love with him" after something that Mitsuya did almost exclusively for his sake.

Immediately upon finding out that it WASN'T about Mitsuya, was completely baffled and confused about how it could possibly be anyone else.

Gave Mitsuya a specialised nickname that consists of shortening his given name and adding "-chan". Given names are seen as more intimate in Japan, while the "-chan" suffix is mostly used for girls, younger relatives, or romantic partners. Mitsuya isn't a girl, and he's older than Hakkai, who looks up to him. So... Again, this is not mimicked by any other duo.

Chose a career based on what Mitsuya wanted to do in an attempt to be close to him.

Then, when he got more famous and busy, still carved out time to visit him seemingly very regularly.

Seemingly ignored a crowd of girls that all wanted to talk to him to make his way to Mitsuya as quickly as possible.

Straight up called Mitsuya "hot".

Maybe some of these things individually could be read as a coincidence, or a joke, but compiling it all in a list definitely shows that this was, more than likely, very intentional.

"But he says he sees Mitsuya like a brother!!" Hakkai looks up to and admires Mitsuya, who, as a child, taught him how to act and inspired him to be better. This is how Hakkai thinks brothers should be, and given his issues with his real brother, it's not a surprise that he's looking for brotherly guidance elsewhere.

However, three things.

Hakkai is very young and inexperienced. At that age, it's not difficult to confuse romantic feelings for familial ones.

Relationships change and grow with people. Many childhood friends-to-lovers feel as if they're siblings when they're little kids, but then transition to a relationship. This is also a VERY common anime trope that seems to only be an issue when they're both boys. 🤔

"Like a brother" is, sometimes, used as a euphemism in East Asian countries to censor or hint at gay lovers.

Mitsuya is almost certainly coded to be gay, and Hakkai is almost certainly written with a crush on Mitsuya in mind.

And why is this important?

Because they're both scrappy, edgy, shitty teenage boys.

Neither of them are misfits or outcasts. Neither of them are weak or dainty or need protection. They're not perverts, or deviants, they're not girly or looked down on. They're loved, respected by their friends. Their friends don't question their interests, or their bonds.

They're allowed to just be two teen boys that happen to be gay.

Two teen boys that happen to be gay, that are accepted at face value for who they are by their friends, no questions or conditions.

Nothing more, nothing less.

You can't pay for that kind of representation.

[chaolie]

Fundywastaken Week, Day 1 - A Winter's Ball

Here I go again, writing for another one of @fundyfiles' events!! Was this inspired by the song from Hamilton?? Is it just a ball?? Who knows! (Tho honestly, it just has a little reference to the song and not much more). Also, this is kind of written from Dream's POV because I figured that would be interesting to do! As always, you can go read this on my Ao3, too!

Characters: Fundy, Dream, Others mentioned/implied

Words: ~2.5k

The ballroom was… a change for sure. It was big and spacy, its walls weren’t made of stone, but instead of wood, and rather than being dark, torches and lanterns made everything inside seem brighter. It was nothing like battle fortifications, it was cozy and friendly, it allowed people to reconnect. With its soft music and the sweet foods available to all, it assured them that the war was over. And while sure, most attendees preferred sticking to their long-time allies than their previous enemies, a few people dared to engage in conversation with the ones from the opposing side.

Dream kept leaning against the wall and enjoyed the chill breeze that reached him through the cracks. The wood was thick, so it wasn’t as cold as the air usually got when it was snowing, but it was refreshing enough. Every once in a while, he took a moment to look for his friends, and each time his gaze reached them, they seemed to be having fun. Good, that’s what they were there for, after all. And while he did promise to them that he’d do the same, he never said that his definition of fun wasn’t simply supporting a wall.

A tap on his shoulder almost caught him off-guard, he could’ve even flinched if it wasn’t the 5th time he felt it during the same night. With a quiet sigh, he turned his head and looked at Sapnap, the one responsible for tapping him. His friend was almost breathless, which wasn’t too surprising. From what Dream saw so far, when he wasn’t busy bothering him, he was dancing with anyone willing. And the two men who just recently arrived at this part of the land seemed more willing to dance the night away with him.

“Still no one?” Sapnap asked, still catching his breath. Dream nodded.

“No one seems too interested in me,” he admitted, briefly gesturing to all the people in the building.

“Or they’re too scared to ask you for a dance,” the man suggested. “So why don’t you do that?” he asked, and Dream could only shrug. Why didn’t he? “What, you don’t know who to ask?”

“...Do you have any suggestions?” he muttered eventually. Sapnap stifled a laugh and looked around the ballroom.

“Hm, well, I mean, I won’t mind you stealing one of those guys for a dance,” he suggested, glancing towards the two men he was spending his night with.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” Dream shook his head.

Before Sapnap could throw out another suggestion, there came a loud crash. They both turned their heads towards one of the tables with food and saw a fox hybrid wearing a pastel-coloured L’Manburg suit standing over a broken plate. Just seconds later, Wilbur was next to him, the two exchanging some words too quietly for Dream or Sapnap to hear. Eventually, the fox turned and left, walking over to an empty bench and sitting down only to glare at his country’s leader.

“...Do you know who’s that?” Dream asked, turning to look at Sapnap again. The other man almost managed to stop himself from laughing quietly.

“Yeah. If I’m not wrong, Fundy? But look out, if you decide to ask him for a dance you might start a second war. It would be funny, though,” he joked. When Dream didn’t quite react, he sighed. “He’s Wilbur’s son,” he clarified. The masked man nodded briefly. “So?”

“Don’t you have people to get back to?” Dream asked, motioning to the two men Sapnap’s been dancing with. His friend sighed.

“Sure. Good luck with finding someone,” he wished. After Dream answered with another nod, he turned and left.

The man closed his eyes and leaned against the wall again. He admired how fast Sapnap seemed to move on from the war and how easily he found himself in this ball, but that was not something they had in common. With the chilly breeze keeping him company, he let out a deep sigh and got to relax for a whole minute until someone tapped him on his arm again. Expecting it to be Sapnap, he opened his eyes and turned towards him.

“Back already-” he started, but quickly noticed that the person next to him was not his friend. Instead, he was now face to face with the fox hybrid they noticed before. “Oh. Can I help you?” he asked, puzzled.

“Probably,” the fox, Fundy, shrugged. This only baffled the masked man further.

“...What do you need, then?”

“Well, you see… I kind of overheard you a moment ago?” he started, and Dream was very grateful for his mask covering his expression. Before he could figure out how to answer, Fundy went on. “And, as you could’ve noticed,” he gestured briefly to the broken plate still on the ground, “I’m kind of looking for ways to annoy my father? So, uh… Do you maybe want to... I don't know, hang out or something?”

Dream barely stifled a laugh of relief, this was quite a good outcome of an “I heard you talking about me” situation. And if he agreed, Sapnap would stop worrying about him and focus on enjoying the ball for himself. And annoying General Soot in a harmless way seemed like a great way to pass the night. And, well, Fundy certainly seemed like an interesting guy too. All things considered, he nodded.

“You know what? Sure. Do you have anything in mind?” he asked. After a short pause of surprise, Fundy’s face lit up with the brightest smile Dream ever got to see.

“I don’t know, I didn’t think you’d- uh- Do you dance?” he suggested finally. After giving it a second of thought, Dream fully pushed himself off the wall.

“I certainly try,” he answered. Somehow, Fundy’s smile grew wider as he held out his hand.

“Let’s try together, then,” he grinned. Taking the fox hybrid’s hand felt like sealing his fate for the night… but there wasn’t anything Dream wanted to do more.

They walked further from the wall and closer to the jukeboxes. The music left much to be desired, not one song played until the end ever since Tommy and Tubbo got their hands on the discs prepared for the ball and played them in a way only they truly understood. But it wasn’t too tragic, it was still good enough for a dance or two. Or three. Or four. Or- which dance was it, again?

The time they spent holding hands and swirling to the music was not what they expected it to be. Dream, who originally accepted the offer as more of a “why not” felt himself get almost giddy, and each time a song stopped, he found himself quietly praying that the next one would come on before his partner would decide that they spent enough time together. Luckily for him, Fundy didn’t even consider letting go first, and while his original intention was enjoying the shocked and annoyed looks Wilbur shot at the two, he barely acknowledged anything or anyone that wasn’t the masked man swaying with him or the music anymore. Only when their legs were barely able to hold them up and their hands were starting to ache each time they dared to raise them, they slowed down and stumbled over to a pillar, next to which they could catch their breaths.

“...Do you want to get some food?” Dream suggested once he decided he recovered enough. Once again, he got to see Fundy’s face light up at the offer.

“Yeah, sure,” he nodded with a grin before pushing himself off the pillar. “Let’s go.”

Without truly acknowledging it, Fundy grabbed Dream’s hand and led him to one of the tables. While he could blame it on being tired, it still took the masked man an embarrassing amount of time to realize how he was following so close behind. When he did finally notice the fox hybrid’s hand over his own, leading him through the ballroom, the idea of pulling away didn’t even cross his mind. They soon reached the table, where they took some of the more interesting-looking foods, neither of them sure if they ever got to try those before.

They sat on one of the benches against the wall and tried all the snacks they managed to carry with them. Some were sweet, some were bitter, and some were so terrible they’d never touch them again. Even so, Dream found it strangely endearing to watch Fundy’s expression change each time he tried something bad. He didn’t even mind the risk of tasting something absolutely disgusting each time Fundy passed him a piece of food without a word, it only made the few actually tasty foods much sweeter.

Just as they were running out of snacks and were more focused on sharing a conversation filled with quiet laughs and silly jokes, someone approached them. The man standing at their side cleared his throat, and they both fell silent. They looked up and saw Wilbur, and while his arms were crossed, his face indicated defeat. Even so, Dream noticed Fundy’s grip on the bench they were sitting on tightening.

“Fundy, do you have a moment to speak with me?” he asked finally. The fox hybrid hummed quietly.

“Well, uhh…” he muttered. Figuring he was looking for an excuse, Dream decided to jump in.

“Can we step outside before that? This music really isn’t helping my headache,” he asked, directing the question at Fundy.

“Yeah, sure!” he nodded quickly before looking back at Wilbur. “Uh. Maybe when I’m back?” he suggested with a nervous smile. His father sighed, but nodded.

“Don’t catch a cold in the snow,” he said before turning around and leaving. Once he was gone, Fundy audibly let out a sigh of relief.

“Do you actually want to go outside?” he asked finally. Dream wondered for a second before nodding.

“Fresh air is always good,” he pointed out, getting to his feet. Fundy did the same before looking around the ballroom.

“There’s an exit right there,” he noticed, taking the first couple of steps towards it.

This time Dream had to admit to doing it consciously, but as he followed the fox hybrid, he found himself reaching out to grab his hand. The second he did, Fundy paused and turned to look at him. For a moment, everything seemed to stop, and Dream already prepared for his hand to be shaken off and pushed away. Instead, he got to once again see that endearing, bright smile appear on Fundy's face as he continued on his way. Behind his mask, Dream smiled back, and while his grin was just as genuine, Fundy wouldn’t know.

They made their way outside and into the makeshift, snow-covered garden. While the main building for the ball was built with attention to detail and the most skilled builders were working on it for a little short of a month, the garden was a last-minute addition and lacked the same care. It didn’t matter too much, though, it was much more quiet and the small snowflakes falling from the sky made it look almost magical, even if it was slightly asymmetrical. The two stopped by the frozen fountain and leaned against the cool, smooth stone at its side. Their hands were still connected, but neither of them seemed to pay too much attention to it anymore.

“So, do you have any idea what he wanted to talk about?” Dream asked after sitting in silence for quite some time. Fundy shrugged.

“He probably wanted to tell me he won’t make me attend any other balls and that I can stop hanging out with you. Doesn’t matter, I’m having fun anyway,” he answered.

“Did he make you come to this one?”

“Basically. He said it’s too important to miss and all that. Did someone make you attend this too?” Fundy asked. Dream shrugged.

“Uh… not really. I mean…” he hesitated. How should he even put this into words? Absent-mindedly, he reached to the back of his head and undid his mask. Maybe some snow actually falling onto his face would help him? “My friends made me promise to come here and ‘have fun’, and I didn’t want to go back on that.”

“U-uh-huh,” Fundy hummed after overcoming the surprise that stopped him from speaking at first. Dream turned to look at him, and found him glancing between the man and his hands. Or rather, his mask in his hands. Oh.

“O-oh, sorry, I- uh-” Dream stuttered, slapping the item back onto his face. It was there for a reason, and- why did he take it off again? He wasn’t usually this comfortable around strangers. Around anyone, actually, so why-

“Oh no, it’s- it’s fine, you can keep it off if you want!” Fundy assured him quickly. “I-if you want, I don’t-” he tried to elaborate, but he was at a loss of words, and Dream was already lowering it again. More cautiously this time.

“...Are you sure?” he asked. People… didn’t usually like what they found under it. Fundy’s awkward expression was once again brightened by his smile as he nodded.

“Yeah! It’s cool,” he confirmed.

With a soft smile on his own face, Dream put the mask on the edge of the fountain and allowed the snow to touch his skin for the first time in forever. The silence he and Fundy fell into was strangely comfortable, and neither of them seemed to really mind it. Sure, the man could feel the fox hybrid’s gaze on himself every once in a while, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t guilty of doing the same, of glancing at his companion and… He was never so grateful for snow. It was a good enough explanation of the red shade tinting his face.

“Hey, uh, Dream…” Fundy started, finally breaking the silence.

“Yeah?” the man answered immediately. Perhaps a bit too fast? It certainly took Fundy off-guard, but he managed to collect himself.

“So… I know this was all meant to just annoy my dad and such, but…. Do you want to meet again sometime?” he offered. The surprise on Dream’s face must’ve been obvious, and it certainly took away the fox hybrid’s confidence. His ears flattened against his head and he was just about to stutter out some excuse for asking, but the man managed to regain his voice just in time.

“Yeah! I’d love to!” he nodded, and couldn’t help a small smile crossing his lips. Fundy visibly relaxed upon hearing that. Then, there came excitement.

“Really?! That’s- Yes! Okay, so, uh- when?” he stuttered out, barely keeping himself in one place. And yet again, that bright smile on his face… Dream would do anything to see it every day.

“Whenever you want to,” he answered. Suddenly, he felt just as giddy, and he really hoped that Fundy would pick a date that would come soon. He couldn’t wait-

“Uh- Tomorrow?”

“...Sounds perfect.”

[house-of-otome]

Hello! I was wondering if your request box was open! If it is, do you mind if I request how the brothers would react to Mc making their favourite food/treat upon realizing that they've been having a bad day? And how they would react to Mc saying "Because I care about you," when asked why they did so? Thank you in advance!

I don't mind at all nonnie! This is such a wholesome request, hope you enjoy! ^-^

-----------------------------

Lucifer:

- He was absolutely swamped with paperwork. Most of it actually caused by his brothers one way or another this time, a relatively small portion being from Lord Diavolo.

- He was so tired, but he knew that if he didn't keep going he would never see the bottom of the pile, at least that's how it felt.

- When you knock on his door and he doesn't answer, you decide to quietly slip in with the late night snack you had prepared for him. You find him passed out over his desk, one hand still lightly gripping a pen.

- You go back and forth with yourself on if you should wake him or not, but then decide that this cannot possibly be a comfortable sleeping position, and you also dont want your gift to be wasted. So you gently prod him awake, taking the pen from his hand and softly cooing his name.

- He looks up at you and for a moment his eyes tell you exactly how tired he is, but then he quickly composes himself and the glimmer of vulnerability is gone. When he spots the tasty treat he will be a little surprised and ask you why you brought him this and also how you knew what his favourite was.

- "Because I care about you, I figured you could use something nice today. Also you mentioned it off hand to Lord Diavolo once and I remembered."

- He's so touched, the actual softest of smiles will grace his features. You remembered an off hand comment he made once, you probably had to have Barbatos or someone else show you how to make this, and you went through all that trouble just to cheer him up on a rough day. If he were more impulsive he would confess his love for you right then and there. Instead he thanks you, and it sounds so tender in that moment that it may as well have been a confession.

- It's up to you whether or not you try and convince him to get some sleep after he's done with the food.

Mammon:

- First he gets bossed around by witches all day, then he finally gets home and his brothers start teasing him and saying he's a scumbag again and it's just too much. He's so done he just wants to go to bed.

- He hides it well behind his usual over the top attitude, and his shades are there to hide his eyes. You can tell though, you and Mammon have been practically attached at the hip since about a week into the exchange program, you're honestly surprised that his brother don't notice, but you figure it's because he's put up this act for centuries now.

- So, seeing how exhausted he really is, you decide to do something nice for him and make his favourite snack. You do this sometime after dinner and you're thankful Beel didn't fully raid the fridge and the rest of the kitchen yet so all the items you need are there.

- When you go to bring it to him he's in his room, exhaustion evidenced by the fact he's just lying there starfished out on his bed. You call out his name and he bolts up like he was shot by lightning. He meets you in the middle and asks what you're doing here-- no scratch that, of course you'd want to hang out with the Great Mammon!

- When you're straightforward with him and say that yes you would in fact like to hang out with him and then present him the food it takes a hot moment for everything to process, cuz he's not used to someone doing something so incredibly nice for him.

- "For me? Why?" he's too surprised to put up his usual self agrandizing act. "Because I care about you, silly, and you looked like you could use a pick me up!"

- Is he? Is he crying a little?? No you silly human!! He is not crying! Again, he. is. not. crying. He takes the food from you with a soft lil thanks. He's definitely crying a little, but you don't bring it up for his sake, besides you want him to feel like he can be open with you so this is a nice first step.

[[[READ MORE]]]

Leviathan:

- You got worried about him when he hadn't gotten out of his room at all that day, not even for food or a drink, you're almost convinced he didn't even take any toilet breaks, but you figure that's impossible and that you just hadnt seen him go from his room to the bathroom.

- Either way you see this as a sign that something is wrong and you're going to cheer him up with his favourite anime inspired snack. You'll break his door down if you absolutely must. That last bit was a joke, mostly.

- You knock on his door in the special lil "code" rhythm the two of you have and you hear a soft 'Come in' from inside.

- When you open the door and step inside you spot him at the opposite side of the room sulking in front of Henry 2.0's fish tank. He had been thinking badly about himself again and the thoughts just wouldn't leave him alone.

- You sit down next to him and hand him the little snack you prepared. He looks absolutely baffled, it's kind of heartbreaking in a way. He keeps looking back and forth between the tasty treat and your face, seemingly trying to convince himself it's real, you think he even pinches himself at one point. He eventually manages to stammer out a soft 'why'.

- "Because I care about you! I didn't see you all day, not even at dinner time, I got worried."

- He takes the treat, noting that you didn't make him just anything, you made him his favourite. He's so overwhelmed, he's definitely crying, please don't bring it up;; He manages to sputter out a flustered thank you, and that you're the best. He just barely keeps himself from saying 'I love you'. Once he finishes the food you ask him what was wrong and spend the rest of the evening reassuring him and cheering him up.

Satan:

- Everyone and everything just seemed absolutely hellbent on pissing him off today, His brothers, his teachers, even the weather!

- He was trying to stay calm, really he was trying, but you could feel the rage radiating off of him. When you got back to the House of Lamentation he wasted no time in heading up to his room and slamming the door shut, he needed to be alone for a bit.

- From the loudness of the slam you were almost convinced the door must've fallen off it's hinges. So you decide to go to the kitchen and make him his favourite food, anyone would feel better with their favourite food filling their stomach, right?

- You still wait a good hour before actually heading to his room, knowing he prefers to simmer down on his own for a little while before he's ready to interact with anyone again. But eventually there you are in front of his door, which to your surprise is still intact, and you knock on it. He tells you to come inside and so you do.

- His books are strewn everywhere, and not in the usual organised chaos kind of way, no it's actual pure chaos this time, astronomy books lying mixed with spell books and art related books mixed with mystery novels. It's a mess. You approach him carefully until you're in range enough to sense that most of his anger has died down. And you present him the treat you prepared.

- "You made this for me? Why?" He accepts the plate and thanks you. "Because I care about you and you were having an especially rough day so I figured you could use something like this."

- Those words, combined with your gentle smile at him as you say them, and the fact that it's his favourite food makes all of the remaining anger melt away and he forgets why he was so angry in the first place. Really it's like magic to him how good you are at making him feel at ease. He thanks you again and eats with a smile on his face, a genuine one.

Asmodeus:

- It takes a lot for Asmo to feel down. Spill something on his favourite shirt and he'll get mad sure but it takes a lot for him to feel more than a little miffed. So when he comes home and something seems... off, you're surprised really. And you get worried.

- Clearly something is wrong so you decide you want to do something nice for him. You remember the treat he told you he loves and decide that that will do the trick!

- When you get to his room you find him sitting in front of his vanity mirror looking.... sad actually. He's mindlessly picking up nail polish bottles and putting them back down, not actually really looking at them.

- He had been remembering his time in the celestial realm, how he used to be considered the Jewel of the Heavens. He was still gorgeous now, of course! But... it wasn't the same. When he was an angel people adored him, loved him. Now all most people saw when they looked at him was his sin. And sure he likes to indulge in it, a lot, but he misses the love side of things. He hasn't really loved someone until you came around, and sometimes he worries that you too will only want him for fulfilling your lustful desires.

- When he notices you've entered his room he quickly pulls himself together, greeting you in his usual fashion. You sit down with him and offer him the food.

- He takes it and thanks you with a quick kiss on your cheek or a hug if you'll let him. He asks why you decided to do this for him. "Because I care about you and you seemed like you could use it."

- He thinks it's the sweetest thing and absolutely will cover your face in kisses, again, if you'll let him. He dares to let himself hope that you see past his sin, that you like him for who he is. And he allows himself to let the worry he felt slip away for now.

Beelzebub:

- It was the anniversary of the day they fell, the day they lost Lilith. His sadness had caused him to mess up a lot during his training and his coach was not pleased with him, wondering what in the three realms had gotten into his star player.

- You got concerned both because he wasn't smiling much today and because very unlike him he hadn't been eating nearly as much as usual.

- No matter how hungry he got he felt so nauseous he could barely get anything in him. Even after all these centuries he still blamed himself for the loss of their sister, and it hit him especially hard whenever the anniversary of the Celestial War came around. On top of all of that his brothers had also been arguing more than usual, which obviously didn't help. Everyone was on edge today.

- You decide to make him his favourite snack, he's been eating way too little for his usual standards and it worried you, and also his stomach's rumbling was starting to shake the house.

- You find him, not in his own room, but in Lilith's room that Lucifer had preserved from the celestial realm. He's crying. You gently take his hand and pull him back to his own room, it won't do him any good to stay in hers. You sit him down on his bed, hand him the food and wrap an arm around him in a comforting gesture.

- He asks you why you brought him this before taking the plate, noting that it's his favourite. "Because I care about you, and you seemed really sad so I got worried." "Marry me, MC."

- No but for real tho, he gives you a soft smile and tries to push past his nausea to eat what you gave him, he thinks the gesture is really sweet and he doesn't want your care and effort to go to waste. You don't ask him what had gotten him down, you had already picked up from one of his brothers what day today was. You just sit together in comfortable silence, comforting and reassuring him when prompted until he feels a bit better.

Belphegor:

- He had been having nightmares. About Lilith dying, about falling, about being locked up in the attic, the loneliness that followed, and about what he did to you in the attic. No matter where he decided to lie down to sleep the nightmares still found him. He was exhausted.

- You noticed him walking around the house looking like the walking dead and figured something was up. Whenever he was asked something it was like the question completely blew past him and it took him quite a concerning amount of time to answer.

- It also appeared he had forgotten to eat altogether, so you decide to bring him his favourite. When you bring him the food you find him seemingly passed out on his bed face down.

- You gently call out to him and you find out that he is not, in fact, asleep when he lifts his head up from the pillow.

- You sit down on the edge of the bed with him right as he finishes peeling himself from the sheets. You hand him the food and he blinks at it for a hot second.

- "You made this... for me? ....Why?" He stares at the plate, and at you, as if he can't quite determine whether he's dreaming or awake. "Because I care about you and you forgot to eat." You state simply, but despite the fact that things take a bit for him to process in this state the fact that you made his favourite isn't lost on him.

- It's really touching to him, after all he put you through you still care about him, bothered to remember what his favourite food is and made it for him. He thanks you, too tired to make any teasing remarks, and eats it. He might ask you to snuggle with him when he's done, convinced that having you there will finally keep the nightmares at bay.

[927roses-and-stuff]

Miracles in Gotham: Chapter 4: Unwelcome Discoveries (Part 2)

Hey, guys! This fic is inspired by @ozmav’s Maribat AU. Shoutout to @mystery-5-5 for brainstorming ideas with me for this fic. 

Woah, updating twice within the same week? It’s like I finally learned how to manage my time!... Not. Honestly this is my stress relief right now because I have two papers due tomorrow and those subjects are not as much fun to write about. On another note, I just finished my midterm and passed! So, yay! Anyways, hope you guys enjoy and have a little bit of luck come your way too. 

Btw, after you’re reading this can you guys please tell me if I’m writing too much angst after reading through this chapter??? I am writing what I think would logically happen in this type of scenario, but I also tend to be really pessimistic. 

If you want to see more, follow: #miraclesingotham or ask to be added to the tag list.

Tag list: @northernbluetongue @zerotosiki @spicybelladonna @my-name-is-michell @legendaryneckjudgestudent @lokiifriggasonn

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By the time Marinette entered the classroom, her mood had lifted considerably from moments before. She sat at her usual seat and prepared her things as the rest of the class filed in. Her mood was slightly disrupted by a disgruntled Lila who roughly swept past her, but otherwise it seemed like today was finally going to be a normal day; well as normal as one could get in Paris, anyway. As the last remaining students settled in, Mme. Bustier walked into the room with a huge stack of papers. She settled them on her desk before addressing everyone. 

“Good morning, everyone!” 

“Good morning, Mme. Bustier,” the class parroted back in varying degrees of enthusiasm. Mme. Bustier smiled in satisfaction. 

“Now before we begin our usual morning exercise, I would like to call up Marinette and Alya to help me distribute these packages for you. I will give you a few minutes to look through it before discussing it further,” she said, as she split the pile of papers in half and handed one half to each girl. Marinette’s eyes bulged. The stack of papers consisted of multiple stacks of paper about twenty pages long each. She and Alya shared a glance before obeying Mme. Bustier’s orders. She started at Chloe and Sabrina’s desk and ended with Rose and Juleka at the back. Then, she returned to her seat, analyzing the stack of papers in front of her.

“Wayne Enterprises Sponsored International Connections Program in Gotham City, USA Information Package and Permission Forms”

After that was a bunch of paragraphs that Marinette skimmed over. The first few pages detailed what the program was for, their accommodations, costs for travel along with what necessary documents were needed, and all sorts of other details that made Marinette dizzy. The next few pages after that outlined the risks specific to Gotham and resources that students and their guardians were strongly recommended to review before even stepping onto Gotham grounds. The pages after that were permission forms asking for the legal guardian’s consent, her personal info, insurance, etc. 

Needless to say, the whole class was baffled. In fact, some of them were downright lost, considering they didn’t even know a Gotham City existed in the US. Or what Wayne Enterprises was supposed to be and why they were offered to join this program. Only Max and Alya seemed excited at the prospect of the field trip, judging on the excited murmurs that Marinette could hear. She picked up on the word “vigilantes” from Alya and “greatest detective” from somewhere behind her  and suddenly it all made sense. She wasn’t sure if she heard correctly, but she was pretty sure she heard Lila talking in self-assured whispers to the confused people around her. She held in a scoff, before returning her attention to the papers in front of her.

Marinette frowned, closing the package and pushing it away from her. She waited for Mme. Bustier to explain the details more clearly. Unfortunately, Marinette already knew there was no way she could go, at least, not without risking Paris’ safety. 

“If you have finished, please bring your attention to me. I will explain everything. Please leave all your questions till the end,” Mme. Bustier said, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention. “As you may have noticed, this opportunity has been given to us by M. Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises. He has chosen our school as a trial school for a program that he wants to implement next year to help expand student achievement nationally and internationally. As well as to encourage young students like yourselves to make connections with students from other countries. In fact, I believe it was Mayor Bourgeois who sent M. Wayne a glowing recommendation of our class from fundraising events to everyone’s extracurriculars and achievements! I am so proud of all of you.” 

At the front, Chloé straightened in her seat and smiled smugly. Beside her, Sabrina was looking from Chloé to the stack of papers in front of her in disbelief. The class was in a similar state of shock, and soon whispers erupted excitedly from most people in the class before Mme. Bustier silenced them all. 

Oh, that made sense, Marinette thought. Despite the sense of pride she felt for herself and the class (their hard work deserved some reward after all, especially with all the akumas recently), she knew Mayor Bourgeois was not the type of person to recommend just anyone from the goodness of his heart. He had recommended this class to M. Wayne for Chloé’s own success. Which was a bit of a shame, Marinette thought, since Chloé had more than enough resources to find opportunities for herself. However, she couldn’t help but feel grateful to whatever deity convinced Mayor Bourgeois to include the class, anyway.

“Anyways,” Mme. Bustier said when the class had calmed down. “I expect everyone here to listen to what I have to say and take it to heart.” Mme. Bustier’s voice settled lowered, her tone becoming dangerously low. “This program is a huge opportunity however, Gotham City is full of many risks and I am making it absolutely mandatory for everyone in this room, as well as their legal guardians to use the sources outlined under “Risks to be Aware of While in Gotham City” Section. While M. Wayne has assured the supervisors for the trip as well as M. Damocles that our accommodations will be in Gotham’s financial district, there is still going to be danger; more than what we’re accustomed to in Paris.” 

At the end of her spiel, the atmosphere in the room weighed heavy on Marinette. She had never seen Mme. Bustier so strict before, her teal eyes piercing through everybody in the room. 

“Um, Mme. Bustier?” Lila spoke and stood up. The class swivelled their attention to her. “I’ve actually been to Gotham City and have met M. Wayne before for a humanitarian project. I’m sure M. Wayne will make sure to do everything to keep us safe.” 

“That may be, Lila, but I assure you, these instructions were given to me by M. Wayne himself via email. He will do his best to make sure our trip is as safe as possible, but that means we need to do our part in keeping ourselves safe.” 

Blinking owlishly, Lila faltered. “Yes, of course, Mme. Bustier.” She forced a smile. “I was just saying so because it would be an absolute shame for anyone to miss out on such a great opportunity!” 

Marinette rolled her eyes. Sure, she thought. That, or she just wanted everyone to know that she knew Bruce Wayne- whoever he was- and be impressed.  At least she didn’t claim that she saved Bruce Wayne’s horse or something similar. Or claim to be friends with the vigilantes Alya had been fangirling about earlier.

The rest of the morning was spent going through the rest of the package from how to ensure that everyone had their visa, to what they should bring and how they should behave while they were there. Marinette frowned; there was something off about this trip. She wasn’t sure whether it was the duration of the trip ( which had a minimum of one month, with extra time being granted in case of any future interruptions), or why an American company would choose this specific French class for the trial program instead of a class in say, London, or any other country that spoke English. It seemed that Max was thinking along the same lines as her, because the moment Mme. Bustier finished, his hand shot up in the air. 

“Yes, Max?” 

“I have a few questions concerning this program. Why is there a minimum allotted time for our stay? Would our parents need to agree to any extension of staying? And how are we supposed to communicate or even understand anything when most of us don’t speak English?” 

Mme. Bustier smiled. “Those are all excellent questions. As I have said before, Gotham City is dangerous so there might be trips that are part of the program that will need to be rescheduled or we may need to take a later flight in case anything happens at the airport. Therefore, we need to be aware that our trip may last longer than the required month. Next, while we are there, you will be put in remedial English classes along with any classes you choose to take at Gotham Academy for the duration of our stay. This way, you will have the opportunity to brush up your English skills.” 

Alya was quick to stand up and shoot her hand in the air. “Will we be going on any field trips outside of Gotham City? Like Metropolis?” 

Mme. Bustier stared at her. “Maybe, but as for now, all details of the trip are included in the itinerary in your packages.” 

Alya deflated, slumping in her seat. Marinette turned toward her and whispered, “What’s so special about Metropolis?”

She perked up and whispered excitedly. “It’s the home of Superman, Booster Gold and Blue Beetle!” Marinette had absolutely no clue -nor any real desire to know- who those were. It didn’t seem to matter as Alya rambled on. “And, and, and, it’s also the home to Pulwitzer prize-winning journalist Lois freaking Lane  from the Daily Planet. I love her. I think I told Nino once that I would leave him for her (Nino gave an affirmative “uh huh”) if the opportunity ever arose and he said he wouldn’t mind as long as he could be with Superman. But that’s alright because Lois Lane is a badass and I love her; she is a genius-” 

“Ahem.” Mme. Bustier coughed. Alya stopped mid-speech and laughed sheepishly. Her voice must have been louder than she realized.

“Sorry Mme. Bustier.” 

“No problem, Alya. Just keep your excitement until the end of class.” She smiled softly. “And, I will see if I can mention your love for Lois Lane to M. Wayne.”

The way Alya froze in her seat, her jaw unhinged and wide eyes, Marinette wasn’t sure if she was in normal shock or if Mme. Bustier had actually managed to kill her with words. She chuckled before nudging her side to bring her back to reality. Shaken out of her stupor, Alya thanked Mme. Bustier and sat in her seat. Her smile was record-breakingly wide and she seemed to vibrate in place. 

Letting out a giggle, Marinette was ecstatic for her best friend. Sure, she may not know the superheroes she mentioned, and still wasn’t too sure of who Lois Lane was, but Alya looked like she won a million euros and meeting her idol would be a great opportunity. As Alya continued to freak out however, she shared glances between Adrien and Nino in front of her and had to stifle their laughter. 

Maybe if Alya did meet Lois Lane and Superman, and Gotham vigilantes, she could share her excitement with Marinette when the class returned to Paris. 

The rest of the day had been pretty normal, with the addition of excitement in the air as her class discussed the trip to Gotham. Students from other classes seemed to be split between being jealous of the class for the opportunity, or relieved at the foreseeable absence of what they dubbed as “the akuma class.” Students from her own class huddled together in their small groups, already planning on what they wanted to do, what they thought Gotham would be like, and how they were excited to meet any cute Americans. Marinette couldn’t help but let their excitement affect her as well. Not only was going abroad always a cause for excitement but surely it was a relief to be able to leave Paris in the foreseeable future. It was exhausting being targeted by stupid demonic butterflies and sucking up your feelings like they didn’t exist (Unless you were Lila, then you cried and let everyone worry about your emotional state and any akumas that could come from it, that is). However, Marinette had a feeling that this trip to Gotham would stir a lot of drama within their class, when everyone had the chance to reveal any negative emotions without the consequence of an akuma around. 

Well, that was that, she supposed as she went home for the lunch break, the permission forms tucked under her arm. She had been half tempted to chuck them in a bin somewhere, but knew her parents would be pissed if she didn’t tell them. Thus, she entered the bakery and once there was a lull in the orders, asked both of her parents if they could talk. 

She led them upstairs in the living room and placed the bundle of papers on the dining room table. Marinette briefly explained the program and let them read through the package carefully. By the time they finished, Marinette only had an hour left of her two hour lunch break. 

“So?” She prompted, trying to gauge their reactions. 

Her maman and dad exchanged a glance and nodded, before turning back to her. 

“You’re definitely going.” Her maman said, putting the package back on the table. 

Marinette’s jaw dropped. “Wait, Maman, don’t you need some more time to think about this?” She couldn’t believe it. She should’ve chucked the package in a bin. 

Her dad frowned. “Marinette, we don’t like it either, and it’s not...ideal, but we believe it’s for the best if you stay away from Paris for now.” 

Marinette’s eyes widened, glancing back and forth between her maman and dad. “What do you mean?” 

Her maman sighed. “Ever since we almost got akumatized on the day you were expelled, me and your father have been talking, and well, Paris isn’t safe for you anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time.”

Her dad nodded in agreement. Marinette felt befuddled. She felt like she definitely lost a few brain cells. 

“Gotham City isn’t safe either, Maman, Papa. Didn’t you see the risks listed?” Marinette asked, grabbing the package and desperately scouring through the package. This was so not happening; she couldn’t afford to leave Paris. 

She heard a sigh coming from her maman, before her hands settled on Marinette’s own. Marinette glanced up to stare at her maman’s cloudy grey gaze. “It’s definitely not ideal, and we wish you were somewhere safer, but I trust that M. Wayne and the school administration would never have allowed this to happen if it was too risky.” 

“But-” 

“And, “ her dad interjected before Marinette could continue. “If this hadn’t come up, we would’ve sent you away with your grandmère and you would’ve had to pause your schooling and travel around Europe with her until it was safe to come back home.” 

“Or,” her maman added, giving Tom a small glare. “We would’ve sent you to Shanghai with your uncle Wang. At least this way, you can continue with your schooling and still be with your friends under the maximum amount of protection.” 

Her breathing turned heavy at her words. Her heart was beating faster, was it just her imagination or did it feel like the room was stuffier than before. She didn’t understand. Why now? They had been planning to send her away. She pressed a hand against her chest to try to control her breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. It had been a calming trick Master Fu had shown her when she had been at the edge of getting an anxiety attack. 

Not for the first time, Marinette wished she could just tell her parents she was Ladybug. Then again, maybe that would’ve motivated them further to get her out of Paris. 

No, her maman and papa loved her. They just wanted her to be safe. They weren’t aware she’d been taking care of Paris all this time. 

She felt her maman’s warm presence beside her as her papa engulfed them both. She barely registered the apologies her maman whispered as she stroked her hair. She was too busy pushing down all her anxieties. 

She couldn’t risk getting akumatized. 

Her lunch break had been long over by the time she had calmed down. By then, both her maman and papa had returned to the bakery with promises that they would talk about this tomorrow and that they would call the school to report her absence for the afternoon. 

Marinette barely registered them as she trudged up to her bedroom. Then her bathroom. Shower. Dry hair. Change of clothes. Bed. 

She didn’t know what to feel. She didn’t notice the kwamis flying towards her and snuggling with her, in her hair and the crook of her neck. 

“What do I do?” She asked listlessly. 

Tikki floated to her field of vision. “Marinette. It’ll be okay.” 

“How?” 

Tikki didn’t give an answer. She sighed and sat up. She was going to write in her diary until she read her last entry. Right. Marianne. She sighed. She’d call her and then go on an early patrol of the city. 

She didn’t want the helplessness that came with being Marinette.

Taking a long, deep breath, she grabbed her tablet and called Marianne through video chat. Surprisingly, despite her age, Marianne adapted to technology pretty well. She and Master Fu were living somewhere in London, enjoying their retirement together. Marinette liked to keep up with them regularly, since she missed Master Fu, and their present now gave her hope for her own future. 

She waited for the screen to load, and smiled widely when Marianne’s face entered the screen. She looked like she had just gotten home; the makeup she was wearing was starting to fade, and her hair was tied in a slightly wet updo bun.

“Marinette! Bonjour! How have you been, darling?” Marinette noticed that she had adopted a slight British accent when she talked. It hadn’t been that long since they last talked, so maybe her and Master Fu had been going out more. 

“Bonjour Marianne.” She softly waved her hand. “Everything’s fine actually. How are you and Master Fu?”

Marianne smiled, re-focusing her own screen so Marinette could see her more clearly. “Everything’s been great. Wang has taken to liking massage parlors again. We just visited one yesterday.” 

Marinette smiled fondly. She could feel Wayzz’s presence on her shoulder as he listened intently. If anyone had been more devastated than Marinette about Master Fu’s amnesia and departure, it would have been Wayzz. It had taken a long time for him to open up to Marinette and the other kwamis, often leaving the Oolong tea she brewed for him to run cold. Fortunately, he was getting better and opening up more. Their love for Master Fu had been what helped he and Marinette bond together as a new Guardian and kwami. 

“I’m glad. It seems like you two are really happy.” 

Marianne squinted her eyes; she could feel her gaze through the screen. “Why did you call, Marinette?”

“I, ah, had a question about the Miraculous actually. I was wondering if your time with Master Fu before had given you any insight to them.” 

Marianne frowned slightly, rubbing her chin. “I’ve picked up on a few things, but Wang was really secretive. I’ll give it my best shot for you, dear.” 

“Thank you! I was wondering if you had any clue as to why the Miracle Box turned into an egg when Master Fu renounced his Guardianship to me?” 

Marianne sighed. “I wish I could tell you, but I’m as lost as you are.” 

She deflated. Her hands gripped the tablet tighter. She knew there was only a miniscule chance that Marianne would’ve known anything, but a tiny part of her had hoped that luck would be on her side. Exhaling, Marinette thanked her. 

On the other side of the screen, Marianne’s frown deepened. As happy as she was with Wang Fu, it was cruel for destiny to hand such a young child the enormous and numerous responsibilities that the Guardian had to bear. She glanced at Wang, who was sleeping on the couch contentedly. She was happy they could now spend the rest of their lives together in peace when most of it had been previously spent in war. 

Speaking of war… 

“Marinette, darling! I think I might know of someone who can help you!” 

Marinette perked up. She had been about to change the subject or close the call, but maybe she had a bit of luck on her side after all. 

“Who?” 

“During the war, when Wang and I escaped to Paris, we were aided by someone who would become one of our closest friends. When he was recruited to battle in the war, he was very young, so Wang had lent him the Snake Miraculous for its powers of Intuition, at least until the war was over.” 

Marinette felt Wayzz stiffen on her shoulder. 

“She doesn’t mean…”

“Unfortunately,” Marianne continued. “When he returned home, he had an argument with Wang and almost didn’t return the Miraculous. It was only a month later that he left it on our doorstep. We haven’t heard from him since, but maybe he might know something. He was always a genius and intuitive beyond his years.” 

Marinette frowned. “Do you know where he might be now?” 

“His name is Alfred Pennyworth. He mentioned once that his family had a tradition of serving a family called the Waynes.” 

Marinette’s frown deepened. There was the name Wayne again. Which meant Gotham. It felt like the universe really wanted her to go there. She sighed. At least she’d have an objective while she was there- if she did go in the first place. She smiled again, once she saw Marianne’s worried stare. 

“Thank you so much, Marianne. I need to go now and plan what to do. I hope you and Master Fu stay well.” 

Marianne smiled. “You too, Marinette. Don’t hesitate to call me for anything, dear.” 

She merely nodded, and they both logged off. She set aside her tablet and turned to face Sass, who was already in front of her. 

“Tell me everything you know about this Alfred Pennyworth and your time with him, Sass. I need to know if he can help before considering everything.” 

The snake kwami merely nodded. “Of course, my Guardian.”

[plasticnightmaredoll]

Ok, so I had to do this after reading @justasimplesinner ‘s absolutely adorable and precious h/cs for Arkham Knight Riddler meeting his s/o’s family for the first time. I mean, AK!Eddie being happy? Having some sort of family? It hits me right in the feels 😭

But I was inspired to write something similar for Telltale Riddler and his s/o but with a twist. I mean, it’s already going to be quite different considering how Telltale Riddler is, but I’m taking things a little further and getting a bit personal. Since I self-ship with him, I figured, why not turn these h/cs into self-insert ones? 

Basically, Telltale Riddler meeting my family for the first time on Christmas. 

The h/cs will reflect what the reality of my family is like but I won’t get, like, too personal. Y’all don’t need to know everything.

Pre-headcanons warnings to be fair: 

There is a little but of smut at the end. Nothing explicit but it’s a little bit spicy. 

These are self-insert headcanons, not reader-insert ones

This is an age-gap pairing since I’m 33 years old and Telltale Riddler is 60 years old.

Anyway, let’s head on into these h/cs for Telltale Riddler meeting my folks for the first time (and that seems awkward as hell to write but hey, I’m fictosexual so....🤷‍♀️)

There is a little bit of smut at the end. Nothing explicit but it’s definitely a little spicy.  

It’s the first Christmas spent with Eddie since becoming a couple, and it’s also kind of an awkward time because family, you know? And, well, my parents don’t know I’m dating anyone...let alone THE Riddler. 

It’s going to be a challenge getting them to accept me dating someone nearly twice my age (I’m 33 and Edward’s 60, but damn, did he age like fine wine or what?) But revealing that it’s the goddamn Riddler? 

So, yeah, I’m freaking out but I also realize that I have to tell them eventually because it’s only fair, for one, and keeping it a secret for a long time would just make things worse if -- or more realistically, when -- my parents found out on their own. 

Plus, I’m not ashamed or afraid to date Edward. He treats me much differently than he treats most other people, and I want my parents to know that, yeah, he’s Riddler, a criminal mastermind but honestly, he treats me better than any guy has and I’m actually happy.

Edward isn’t nervous but he’s concerned because he doesn’t want to complicate things between my parents and me, doesn’t want to bring unnecessary drama and angst into my life. He can handle people disliking him -- hating him -- but he doesn’t want the only person he’s ever truly cared for to have a damaged relationship with her family because of him.

But we discuss it and decide it’s better to just go ahead and do it. Rip off the band aid and get the pain out of the way as fast as possible, so to speak. Whatever happens, happens, and hopefully it’s nothing (too) upsetting.

I call my parents and tell them I’m coming to visit for Christmas, and I reveal -- while my hands are shaking and my heart is pounding from the anxiety consuming me -- that I want to bring my boyfriend.

Oh, I have a boyfriend? For how long? How did we meet? What’s he like? What’s his name? Why the wait to tell them about him?

I know it wouldn’t go over well to just show up at my parents home hanging off of the goddamn Riddler’s arm, like, “Oh, hey, my boyfriend is a criminal genius, don’t ya know?”

So, I approach telling them over the phone the truth slowly, cautiously. I say his name is Edward and we met kind of by accident and we’ve been dating for a good portion of the year. It’s my first Christmas with him, actually.

Wait, it’s been that long and I never told my them?! What the hell?!

Needless to say, they are baffled and also concerned about this news. 

I explain the awkward but less, uh, shocking news that he is an older man, and I was worried they’d be upset about that. They ask how old Edward is and I hesitate, wondering if I should lie and say he’s, like, in his early 50s because he could easily pass for that age. Hell, even I thought he was in his early 50s (or even very late 40s) when I first met him. 

However, honesty is the best policy, and this is not even the “bad” news yet. 

I say that he just turned 60 years old this year in a calm, cool, casual tone, like I’m talking about the weather and not revealing to my parents that I’m dating a guy who is my dad’s age.

There is silence and I internally panic because if they’re angered or appalled by this, they’re not going to handle finding out who Edward is well at all.

They are surprised, a little worried for my wellbeing because they think Edward’s some perverted Sugar Daddy to me. They don’t say it like that but it’s heavily implied.

I explain that’s not the case at all, that he’s actually very sweet towards me. 

My folks decide to go along with this bit of news because hey, I’m 33 years old. I’m an adult. I can date an older man if I want.

Then comes the “fun” part, which is revealing to them what Edward does for a living.

I laugh nervously, and Edward, who has been patiently sitting beside me on the couch, realizes what I’m about to tell my parents. He watches me closely, hoping this doesn’t turn into a disaster for my sake.

“Yeah, so, Edward, yeah...Edward is...well, he’s, um...Well, he’s, he’s a genius. Like a tech genius, great with electrical engineering, computers. And uh, his job, his profession, his, um, career? Yeah, that’s...well, he’s...”

I take a deep breath and prepare for the worst.

“He’s The Riddler, one of Gotham’s...elite....masterminds.”

The silence on the other end of the phone is so terrifying that I feel like I’m going to faint from how anxious I am. Edward places a hand on my knee as a means of comfort, still wanting to give me some space to breathe and calm down. 

My parents aren’t...thrilled, to say the least. I’m dating a fucking criminal mastermind?! I’m dating RIDDLER? THE RIDDLER? What the goddamn fresh hell is this?!

I start crying because I’m so stressed about this, and Edward moves closer so he can put his arm around me. He feels bad, he really does, and it shows in his troubled expression, but there’s not much he can do. It’s not like we can take this back and say, “Oh, hey, just kidding!” No, this was the truth and now we were dealing with the consequences.

I manage to get my parents to calm down long enough so I can get a word in. I get up off the couch and walk to another room to speak to them alone. 

I tell them I know it’s not the most pleasant news to hear, and I know it seems awful, but it’s the first time I have been with a man and he’s treated me well. Like, really well. It’s not just the nice gifts or expensive dinners. Edward does genuinely care about me. I don’t feel like a “booty call,” he doesn’t ignore me, he doesn’t threaten me, he’s never abused me and never will. He’s not the same person with me as he is with some other people. I wouldn’t be dating him otherwise.

It takes some more convincing, but once I get it through to my parents that yes, I’m actually happy and yes, I’m safe and yes, Edward is a very doting boyfriend, they decide to meet him at Christmas. I know they will still have concerns and may be a bit cold to Edward at first, but I hope they would see what I see.

The day arrives and I’m a nervous wreck. Edward is worried for me. He  assures me that everything will be ok, and I want to believe but I’m still scared.

Deep down, he thinks maybe dating me is a bad idea -- not because he doesn’t love me but because he feels like he could damage my relationship with my parents. However, he doesn’t bring this up as he doesn’t want me to be even more upset than I already am.

Edward had brought with him some gifts for my parents and my grandma (she was staying with them, too). He brought the most most beautiful bouquet of flowers and a necklace for my grandma, a very lovely diamond bracelet for my mom, and a high-quality (aka expensive) watch for my dad.

I had to dress to impress and by that, dress in things Edward had given me to give my parents more visual proof that he was taking care of me. But I was careful not to overdo it. I didn’t want my parents to think I was his piece of...eye candy.

When we arrive, my parents greet us at the door, giving me a much warmer welcome than they give to Edward. They’re not rude to him, but they look uneasy, even a little irritated. 

Edward, being the charming bastard he is, keeps his calm and showcases his gentlemanly side. It’s genuine because he IS quite the gentleman as I have learned, but I don’t know if it will be enough to convince my parents to accept him.

They appreciate the gifts, seem a little caught off guard by the pricey but very lovely things Edward bought them. They also notice I’m wearing a dress that cost a pretty penny and jewelry just as extravagant. But none of it’s gaudy. 

Basically, I don’t look like Riddler’s trophy girlfriend.

Edward is courteous and charming, which seems to help my mom relax a bit. My dad still looks rather tense, though.

My grandma, being 90 and having frequent issues with memory, doesn’t remember who Edward actually is. My parents told her but she had forgotten and it was probably for the best. 

My grandma is impressed with Edward, finds him to be a proper, handsome gentleman type. She also was very grateful for the gifts he brought her.

Edward is very patient with my grandma, which I know isn’t easy due to her memory problems. But he is very relaxed, behaving pretty much like he does around me.

We all have dinner and chat, and the tension in the air lightens. My parents even laugh at a few humorous comments from Edward. He thanks my parents for allowing him to visit and for the wonderful dinner, and offers to help my parents clean up. 

Good. This gives my parents time alone with Edward which, as nerve-wracking as it is for me, is something that needs to happen. They need a one-on-one with my boyfriend...and hopefully it didn’t turn into a mess.

I stay with my grandma and act like everything’s fine as I anxiously wait to find out what my parents will ultimately think of Edward.

They are upfront with him once they’re alone with him, asking him if he’s putting up some kind of act or if this is all really him. They also ask if he genuinely cares for me or if he’s just using me because I’m “young and pretty.” They don’t hide their feelings, my parents, and they are concerned for my safety and happiness above all else. They NEED to know that Edward is good to me despite being Riddler. They can’t tell me who to be with but it would put their mind at ease if they were assured I was in good hands.

Edward is honest with them. He isn’t putting on a front. He is gentlemanly by nature with people he likes and respects, and he’s a bit old-fashioned in some ways anyway due to his age. He doesn’t fake his feelings for anyone, and while he does want my parents to accept him as my boyfriend, he knows it’s not an easy choice. He also tells them they have every right to reject him, and he won’t hold a grudge towards them about it if they do. 

If anything, he’s earned scorn more than kindness due to how he’s lived his life, and that’s fair. He accepts that.

But then he explains that no, I am not eye candy for him. He’s not a play boy looking for a “good time.” He’s serious about me and feels things towards me he’s never felt--never expected to feel. I’m the one thing in his dark and violent life that is bright and soothing, even though he’s done nothing in his life to deserve such a sweet and caring partner.

He tells them that I’m always protected and cared for, and he has made arrangements to ensure I’m still protected and cared for if -- or more realistically, when something happens to him. 

Being Riddler’s girlfriend has its perks. No one messes with me, that’s for sure, because they know I’m important to him, and they know what he is willing to do to keep me safe.

As scary as that is to hear, my parents find some relief in that. Yes, Edward is The Riddler, a criminal mastermind who strikes fear into many. However, he takes care of what is precious to him -- and not much is precious to him. Actually, nothing is save for me. I bring him a lot of joy and much-needed peace, and he’d give his life to protect me. 

I deserve to be happy, he tells my parents, because I am a good person unlike him, and he works hard to make sure I know I’m loved and cared for, that I’m good enough and that he has no intentions of leaving me or cheating on me for someone else.

Edward also assures my parents that, should they need anything, he can provide. Of course, he won’t force his help on them but he won’t ever turn them away either. He looks out for those that mean a lot to me, who are close to me, regardless of who they are and how they feel about him. That is a promise he makes to my parents, too.

He also comments on how they have been taking care of my grandma pretty much on their own for a couple years now, and he knows from what he has observed and from things I’ve told him that it is a very exhausting duty. It’s an admirable one, though, for sure, and he respects my parents for being good people. 

He sees where I get my kind nature, he tells them.

He says that he can pay for live-in help for them, like a live-in nurse, someone who can help take care of my grandma and let my parents have a break every now and again. Also, should she need anything that isn’t covered by her insurance, he will cover the costs.

Same goes for my parents, who aren’t the healthiest people in their old age (Edward has the regenerative properties of the LOTUS virus on his side -- they don’t). He doesn’t tell them that obviously, that they’re unhealthy, but he says should they need any expenses covered for treatments, medication, etc., he can provide.

Because he is THAT serious about me.

My parents are, to say the least, much more confident in my relationship with Edward now that they’ve talked with him one on one. They give him their blessing, so to speak, to be my boyfriend, and appreciate his generosity. They do ask for help with live-in aid for my grandma, and Edward says pick who they want and he’ll pay whatever insurance won’t cover. 

I am beyond relieved that my parents have decided to accept Edward, and am so grateful to him for offering his help to them...because they need it and deserve it.

He tells me it’s no trouble at all, that whatever makes me happy makes him happy, and he’s more than willing to aid those that are important to me.

Edward and I stay over Christmas Eve so we can spend more time with my family on Christmas Day. We get the guest room which has a small bed, so we’re “forced” to get close.

Of course, I can’t resist tempting him even now, and he doesn’t turn me down. I do warn him that we have to be careful because, hey, my folks are here in this house and I’m not the quietest lover.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he tells me with a smirk. “I came prepared for any eventuality.”

Needless to say, I need to be gagged because Edward makes sure I have a Merry Fucking Christmas -- literally -- and also makes sure I know how much he both loves and desires me.

We decide to leave out the whole Dom/Sub aspect of our relationship in regards to my parents. 

We also don’t tell them about how I call Edward, “Daddy” almost any other time 👀👀👀👀💦💦💦💦💦💦

My mom also refuses to believe he’s 60 years old because he’s so good-looking  😄

[notnctu]

both sides - k.jw

shyboy!jungwoo x fuckgirl!y.n warnings: mentions of alcohol, hooking up and swearing summary: relationship (n) - the way in which two or more concepts, objects, or people are connected, or the state of being connected. In this video, two people in some sort of relationship take turns answering questions about their relationship while the other person cannot hear any of their answers.

a.n: hi i am author xuxi ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ and this is like a small script scenario that was inspired by @mistymark​‘s the one with the ex boyfriend series and by jubilee’s youtube series called both sides. i rlly hope you enjoy reading this as much as i did writing it :)

[In the frame, there were two empty chairs. In between them was a small coffee table with one set of large earphones and earplugs. The only thing that could be heard in the first few seconds of the video is the creaking of a large metal door and light footsteps.]  

-

[Y.n opens the door and holds it for Jungwoo to follow behind her. As they weave through the cameras and lights to get to the set, y.n suddenly gets shoved in front of the camera, a small ‘oof’ heard behind her. When she turns around, she erupts into laughter as Jungwoo starts hopping into the frame, wires tangled around one of his ankles. The scene then cuts to her sitting in the chair, laughing so hard she’s holding her stomach as one of the set employees unwraps the wires from a blushing Jungwoo]

Introduction

Y.n, confidently: Hi, I’m y.n and I’ve been dating this clumsy man for a little over two years now

Jungwoo nervously rubs his hands on his thighs: Hi I am clumsy man Jungwoo who has been dating this amazing and beautiful y.n for about 118 weeks.

Y.n, teasing him: I didn’t know that converting the years into weeks was part of your engineering degree.

Jungwoo: See guys, you gotta do that math in the relationship, helps make her think that you’re good at math and will be rich in the future so she’ll never leave you.

[Y.n starts laughing again and Jungwoo only stares in awe at his girlfriend, he could never stop himself from admiring her beautiful laugh.]

-

[Jungwoo hands the headphones and earplugs to her immediately, she nods in a pleasure shock]

Y.n: Wow, never in my life did I think that you would volunteer to say something first.

Jungwoo with his little silly side smirk: Maybe I’m feeling extra brave today, the effect that the y.n has on me.

[She laughs again, as if every little thing Jungwoo does makes her the happiest person in the world, it’s one of the only things that Jungwoo takes pride in as seen when the camera zooms into his small smile while he watches her slip the headphones on]

Y.n, loudly: Do I look ugly with this on?

[Jungwoo leans forward and pulls out small strands of her hair that were stuck behind the band of the headphones. He then pulls her longer strands from behind her shoulders to rest in front of her chest.]

Jungwoo: Not anymore, you looked a little bald at first.

Y.n, her lips falling to a frown: Did you just call me bald?

Jungwoo: Yea Caillou. Bald.

How did you two meet?

His side

Jungwoo, laughing: I mean, the very first time I saw her was at a frat party, and she still does not know anything about this. In fact, I haven’t really told anyone about this except Lucas, but basically it was at his party and she was totally blacking out. Oh, and I already knew who she was too.

[He pauses, lips pursued,  finding the best words to describe the situation]

Jungwoo: Let’s just say - she’s a social butterfly, quite popular. But basically, she had been shoved and I just happened to catch her. I shit you not, she looked me dead in the eyes and said ‘you better not kiss me’ with the most drunk yet devious smile I’ve ever seen.

[He laughs at the memory nostalgically. Never in his life did he think that one of his fondest memories would be at a frat party. Y.n is obviously confused.]

Jungwoo, his gaze soaks all of her in, completely smitten by her: Looking back at it, I totally shouldn’t have saved her ass, she probably deserved to eat shit.

Y.n, eyes still clearly lost: What are you talking about?

Jungwoo, though blushing, was still able to say in a high pitched mocking tone: None of your beeswax!

Her side

[Y.n hands him the headset and earplugs, she starts rubbing her ears]

Jungwoo: It’s loud isn’t it?

Y.n: Yea, but nothing will ever be as loud as your high pitched screams when you get scared.

[He rolls his eyes as she flashes her small mischievous grin, putting the earphones over his ears.]

Y.n: Uhm, honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if we met at one of our mutual’s countless frat parties. But if we did meet there, there’s no way I’d remember.

Y.n, smiling fondly: But the very first time that I really met him face to face, and sober might I add, was when I bumped into him and Lucas on campus. Lucas invited him to his party, of course, that night and said something like ‘Jungwoo is gonna be there! You gotta go cause he never goes to my parties!” so I really had to directly look at him and I was thinking like ‘wow, they’re complete opposites’ because at the time, I had never seen him before.

Both sides

[Jungwoo places the two accessories onto the table, his eyes wide with curiosity.]

Jungwoo: Tell me what you said, I wanna know what you think our first meeting was.

Y.n, raising a brow: Think? So we totally met at a party once huh?

[Jungwoo just slyly smirks at her, remembering how sharp y.n always was. He nods his head, motioning her to continue.]

Y.n: I talked about when Lucas and you bumped into me on campus, and he invited me to one of his parties.

Jungwoo jumps a little in his chair, excited that he remembered that moment: Oh my god yea! That was our first time meeting sober.

Y.n: Yea, and I was thinking like, oh my gosh, they’re complete opposites.

Jungwoo sighs: I get it, I’m not as tall, as buff, as handsome or as cool as Lucas Wong. He’s only friends with me because we were roommates back in first year.

Y.n: Not even, Lucas loves you, he follows you like a lost puppy all the time. Also you don’t want to be Lucas, he’s kind of a, ya know-

Jungwoo: A douche.

[They snicker, but then suddenly, y.n stops and look directly at Jungwoo]

Y.n: Wait, what happened at the party when we first met?

Jungwoo: I mean, I just talked about how you were making out wi-

Y.n sighs into her hands, cringing: Oh my gosh, don’t bring up my past. 

[Jungwoo turn to the camera, a hand blocking the sight of his devilish grin from his girlfriend, and mouths to the camera with the subtitles assisting the watchers at the bottom of screen]

Jungwoo, his mouth exaggerating each word: She used to be a fuck girl

[Jungwoo never says his real answer, he’s always been too shy to admit that he was drawn to her since that very first night and that Lucas bumping into her that random day was staged.]

How was your first kiss?

Her side

[She immediately groans into her hands, her legs dramatically stretch out as she slips down the back of her chair, clearly disliking the memory. Jungwoo’s eyebrow’s furrow in animated confusion. What could’ve possibly made her this embarrassed again? Her pink ears make release a baffled laugh, shocked by her sudden outburst.]

Y.n, still hiding behind her hands: It was so strange. I never felt nervous to kiss someone before, nor did I ever kiss someone without it leading to a hook up. It was also in the trunk of his hatchback, we were watching the stars at a look out point. Even the literal setting was something I wasn’t used to. 

[She looks at Jungwoo’s very concerned, confused, and focused face. She can tell that he is trying so hard to decipher what is making her so annoyed. She rolls her eyes, but a small smile peaks through as she looks at his very lost face.]

Y.n avoiding his eye contact: It was romantic. It was the first time I really felt like a kiss had some sort of meaning or feeling behind it.

His side

[Jungwoo bursts into laughter, knowing exactly why she reacted the way she did. He nervously rubs the back of his neck but the joy never left his eyes. She glares very intentionally at him with the look of ‘you better not say anything stupid or I’ll kill you’ being extremely prominent.]

Jungwoo:  For her, I’m sure it was a surprise, or a little bit weird, especially because it was me of all people in the world. Some dorky loser that wasn’t even one of her countless hot frat boys. I had never seen her so shy and hesitant, probably because the setting of the kiss was very different for her.

[He stares at her, as if waiting for her reaction, thinking that she might kill him once she hears his answer.]

Jungwoo: For me though, it was dreamy, almost like it came out of a movie, perfect.

Both sides

[Y.n buries her face into her sleeves as she takes off the headset and he laughs, remembering her first reaction. Needless to say, he is very amused by her distaste for the question.]

Jungwoo: I know, I really swept you off your feet that night.

Y.n: Shut up, it was only okay.

[Jungwoo is about to interject, but sees her stubbornly looking away with her pink cheeks and just happily sighs. He is satisfied that she’s still so embarrassed about it even two years after it happened,]

What have you learned from them?

[Jungwoo swings his legs from the chair as he calmly listens to the music. His eyes intently yet curiously looking at y.n as she clears her throat. Normally, she was good at hiding her feelings but anyone could see that she was a little overwhelmed by his gaze and the question.]

Her side

Y.n, her stare so affectionately bores into all of Jungwoo: So much. I don’t think this man knows how much he’s taught me in so many ways too, physically, emotionally, spiritually, and in math.

[She laughs, making Jungwoo release a slightly confused laugh. It was always one of his habits, laughing because everyone else did, even if his laugh came out due to awkwardness.]

Y.n: But I think one of the biggest things is that I don’t have to always be this bad bitch that is strong and independent.

[She pauses, maybe to stop the tears from slipping from her eyes as she still struggles to really comfortably talk about her emotions.]

Y.n, after taking a deep breath: He is probably one of the only people that’s ever really seen me cry. He made me realize that I don’t always have to push people away that care for me, that the walls I have do more hurt then protect.

Y.n: Whenever I push people away, or feel scared of people leaving me, he always tells me now that he’ll be my forever wall and I’m really thankful for that.

[She lets out a few sniffles in between her light airy giggles as she motions for Jungwoo to switch roles. He grabs her hand as she takes the set from him and squeeze her fingertips.]

Jungwoo: I would kiss your sniffles away, but you’re kinda far.

[She laughs her wholehearted laugh again and Jungwoo swears that the studio lights get brighter.]

His side

Jungwoo: Ah, this is easy. She always taught me to be more confident in myself. I mean for the longest time, actually, I still think this sometimes, I just always thought that she was out of my league. Just look at her, she’s hot, social, funny, daredevil, risk taker, intelligent, extremely thoughtful. She’s basically everything I’m not. I’m more shy, reserved and kind of weird.   

[He glances at her again and she suddenly sticks her tongue at him. He is surprised by the abrupt face and looks visibly offended and taken aback, causing her to laugh, which then follows with his laugh, still in a little disbelief by her surprise attack]

Jungwoo: See? This bitch is, fucking weird and amazing in all the best way possible. But she reminds me everyday, that I actually am kinda cool? She really brought me out of my shell and built my self confidence.

[He laughs again, mainly because he can’t take himself seriously. Y.n rolls her eyes]

Y.n to the camera: He’s being insecure again isn’t he? He is such a beautiful human being, can someone please tell him that for me?

Jungwoo huffs his bangs out of his eyes, jokingly pretending he’s annoyed but he’s definitely turning a little pink: She doesn’t care what anyone thinks. She just says it. As much as I don’t want to admit it, she has been a good influence, only in that sense.

[He sighs, thinking about her more bad ideas such as skipping class, drinking the nights away, running in the middle of the street. When he looks back up at her, she has the sweetest doe eyes that were only focused on him, as if she wanted to hear more of what he was saying, even though she couldn’t even hear him.]

Jungwoo, looking away: But yea, I guess what it all boils down to is that she really made me feel comfortable in my own skin. Plus she finds me genuinely funny, so now I guess I’m less afraid to make jokes and laugh with people rather than trying to stop myself from saying anything and looking around to check if anyone is looking at me weirdly.

Both sides

[After she removes the music, there is a brief silence. They both just look at each other with such warmth, that the people on set feel like they’re suddenly intruding.]

Y.n, hesitantly: I know that you were talking about how you think I’m out of your league.

Jungwoo crosses his arms: Maybe, don’t get cocky.

Y.n sighs heavily, annoyed: There are no such things as leagues, I like you, and only you because everything you do is what makes you, you. Therefore, I like every single thing, imperfections, perfections, giggles, jokes, faces - everything.

Jungwoo reaches over to grab her hand: Hey, thanks.

Y.n, confused: hm?

Jungwoo: Just, thanks for always being my number one supporter.

Y.n smiles: Always. Thank you for being mine too.

Jungwoo reflectng hers: Always.

[They stare for a small moment, their fingertips just barely grasping each other. Their eyes reflect the same glossy daze. The just immerse in all the feelings, words, and emotions floating in the air. They barely even reflected and discussed each other’s answers, but they just know, the love is there.]

That was the last question. Thank you so much for coming in today.

[They both get up from the chair. He brushes her cheeks and squishes them quickly as he leads them out of the frame.]

Jungwoo sighs: Man, I really thought I was gonna embarrass you more, but I guess I didn’t really have the chance.

Y.n, her voice distant: More? What did you already say?

Jungwoo, their steps clicking in sync: Oh, ya know that you were that hot bitch and that everyone wanted to get into your pants and somehow I got the honor to cuff you.

[A loud gasp is heard and a quick smack. The last thing heard is a small yelp and a light laugh as the camera is fading to black.]

[kryptored]

She’s Shady and Sketchy...

Decided to take a break from my mental breakdown and stressful writing by, wait for it - doing more writing! This was inspired by @musicfeedsmysoul12 ‘s idea. I’m really sorry it took me so long to finally write this, but I made a promise and I'm going to follow through it. I also found out that @galahadwilder had recently made a similar post about this so, I guess this was inspired by two creative people who decided to plague my mind and infect my itchy fingers. So, without further ado... 

PART 1: ...when she has something to say

Ms. Bustier’s class knew that whatever was going on between Lila and Marinette, it needs to stop. Ever since the Italian had come back to their class again, it seemed that their sweet Class Representative held a torch of hatred against her. It wasn’t exactly the same words they would use, but it was that that came out of Chloé’s mouth. Even she, as Marinette’s former (but prolly still is) bully, thought it unnerving that this shy and helpful girl would turn a 360 the moment Lila said anything.

        They chalked it up to jealousy, of course. What, with how Lila was failing at hiding her obvious attraction towards Adrien. She may have tried to play it as wanting to be close to him as friends, but they could see what a crush looked like. It wasn’t hard, especially since Marinette had been holding a candle for the same boy after they had patched up their initial misunderstanding. So really, it was no wonder she was acting spiteful at Lila’s presence. They understood, of course, but they just didn’t know she could be this way. There was Kagami, too, but even with her Marinette was like a friend to her.

        But then, things started getting getting worse. They all tried their best, really. They tried to not take sides (although sometimes Lila was so convincing at being the victim and Marinette has always been antagonizing her), mediating between the two. Often times, Marinette would have this burning rage shining in her eyes, that they really had no choice but to tell her to stop it. And like always, she would deny anything about hurting Lila and instead point out her ‘lies.’ It was tiring and disappointing, especially as everyone had been giving Marinette the benefit of the doubt. She wouldn’t physically hurt Lila, because she knew better after being under the tyranny of Chloé (though looking back at it now, they feel guilty for leaving her to fend for herself for so long). They never really thought as Marinette as the type who would hurt someone physically so, it was to their shock that Lila would suddenly tell them about how “awful Marinette was” to her! She’d tell them that their long-time friend had started cornering her at different places, grabbing her tightly and threatening to hurt her badly. She’d also tell her that she refused to accommodate her needs, because she “obviously didn’t deserve it.” She was telling them all of those when the other girl wasn’t around, because she feared for herself and the others that might fall victim to her. Lila had been telling them that Marinette was a bully, and they were very much inclined to believe that. The class, bar Lila, Chloé, Sabrina, and Adrien, had decided that enough was enough and that Marinette should be taught a lesson about bullying.

That is, until Markov pointed out that if they were to report this to the higher ups, they should document the physical evidence. Physical evidence. Well, that had them stop for a second and just think really hard. By physical evidence, that meant pictures. And by pictures, that meant of Lila’s bruises and injuries (such as one time, she claimed Marinette caused her to sprain an ankle). They thought hard and long, until Max finally said something.

“Is it just me, or does anyone not remember Lila having any injuries?”

They were all baffled. None of them could think of a time when Lila had gone to class wearing a cast or anything that helped her with her injuries. Not even her wearing a hearing aid when her tinnitus suddenly came back. Her family was quite financially stable, seeing as she is the daughter of a diplomat so, it wouldn’t have been hard for her to afford one… Right?

“Or bruises?”

Similarly, there was nothing. Just yesterday, the Italian had told them how Marinette pushed her so hard that she hit her face on a pole. Her head had “hurt and been aching for hours,” she said, but there was no bruise at all. Not even a smidgen of it was peeking from her bangs, even when yesterday was windy it was blowing everyone’s hair wildly.

No one said a thing, and honestly, they had no idea what to say. It was so silent, that they could hear the traffic from the open windows of their classroom. No one said a word, and no one made a sound, until their phones gave a chime. They all received a text, and they simultaneously rummaged to reach for their phones and read it in desperation to distract themselves.

It was Lila, and she had something to say:

Hey guys! I just wanted to let you know that I’m doing fine now, but I thought of something. I feel like Marinette has always been a bully lying dormant, but we should give her back what she deserves. We could talk about this more tomorrow, maybe Remember how she always treasures her sketchbook? I just think… we should destroy it.

Something was definitely wrong, and Lila seems to be at the very centre of it.

[vlovers19]

Gosia

Hello my favorite blogger

What baffles me these days is my own reaction. A few days / weeks ago I was sure about my thoughts about Vmin and now suddenly not anymore. How so ? Why am I suddenly sad and hurt? I'm not a shipper and Vmin is / was just real for me all the years.

I love Taehyung! He's my bayes. I love his voice and his unique manner. Since Vmin also belongs to Jimin, I also love Jimin, but different from Taehyung.

What amazes me is that; How can you repeatedly, at intervals a few days or a few weeks, change your own feelings in such a way? How can Jimin, from all these feelings about Tae, suddenly come back to hot feelings about Joonkook?

They sing an almost sweet song / FRIENDS / with all the promise and then suddenly it's over, like magic, we come back to Jikook.

How after what we saw at BV4, what we, as Viminists, read and heard at the beginning of the year - straight from Vmin's mouth, should we now assume that it was all just such an unimportant thing? We saw Vmin; at Grammy, Mama, and others ... we heard what the members say about Vmin, we almost received a declaration of love from Taehyung to Jimin, we got a glimpse into the Vmin relationship where Jimin told, like her always, in the agency "Face to face" calls, like Vmin calls each other when one of them is alone, how important they are to each other. Jimin said that Taehyung is a very important person to him, his only equal friend, and that he wouldn’t mind it staying that way forever. The mood that Vmin spread had to be real because not only did I believe in it, but thousands of other people who had nothing to do with BTS or Vmin before.

Suddenly everything turned but Taehyung (as we have just seen on ISLAND) still stays at Jimin's side. I don't think Taehyung would post all the things if he had known that Jimin would actually rather be with JK or even have feelings for him.

 Taehyung is a proud person and I don't think he would run after anyone who has no feelings for him.

He also wouldn't try to grab his hand or look into his eyes and write love songs if he knew Jimin was in love with JK.

That is my opinion, even if the situation makes me sad, I believe that this confusion has happened recently, is not dependent on Vmin but on the company and its marketing strategy.

I remember myself that the recordings we got are almost 1 year old or even older. The BV4 and the other Vmin things happened later. That, the pictures with the Jimin sitting on Jk, amazes me. In the way Jimin does it again and again with Joonkook, I don't understand. These are childish images, like boys who are going through puberty. I don't understand how people see these pictures as signs of love ??????

Jk also does these games with Suga, also does Taehyung with RM or with Jin etc etc ... but they don't get the attention

 BUT this way Joonkook sometimes pushes Jimin forward is not loving at all but pasively aggression, in my opinion.

In any case  ; something is going on, maybe something is behind or even rotten.

I saw a video once, there were no cameras on, only fans who probably sneaked in there. They filmed the situation with a mobile phone and the quality is bad but good enough to see how loving Vmin was. How Taehyung embraced Jimin, how Jimin snuggled up to Tae, it sat like love.

Afterwards we got official bra shots after the gig, and Vmin pretended they had nothing in common.

Jimin is bigender

This means that the expression of his gender identity is between male and female, he can either consciously or unconsciously switch between perceiving primarily male and primarily female appearance and self-image. His appearance is not only expressed through clothing, but also through body language, choice of words or inner feelings about oneself.

Taehyung knows and accepts everything about Jimin.

"I am from the moon, and you from the stars" ..... we are a mystery

I purple you

******************

Hello Gosia, how are you doing? I share your thoughts and I understand everything. Though, I don't believe they are dating but I believe they have strong feelings for each other.

Like I once said, the era of Vmin showing us all that PDA as a result of their unit is over and now we'll go back to normal.

This is what we get for being shippers. One day you think your otp is real, the next moment, you are seeing one of them or both of them snuggling up to others as if few days ago, they weren't acting as if it was only them in the world.

Honestly, the person who confuses everyone is not Jungkook, it's not Taehyung...it's Jimin. Why do I say so? It's because he alternates his affections between them. One minute, he is all lovey dovey with Taehyung, the next moment, he's all lovey dovey with Jungkook.

What you percieve as Jungkook being agressive is actually his teasing personality. From debut till now, he has been known to tease and 'bully' his hyungs. Pushing them around, playing...

There's this boxing thing he does with Jin which is simply hilarious. But despite this, he is respectful and does what ever his hyungs tells him to do. As far as I know, while they were living together in the dorm, he was in charge of doing everyone's laundry and Jimin himself said that one day when he overdid his teasing towards him, he came to him at night and apologized for it.

Now, Jungkook would show any affection with his hyungs even Taehyung. Back then, he frequently slept on Jin's bed. Jin wrote about it during bon voyage Malta where they wrote letters to each other. He also likes hanging out with Suga. He is the only one who dares to trouble him while in his studio.

Despite all the PDA Jikook has been showing, it doesn't seem to affect Taehyung and Jungkook's relationship. They seem perfectly okay with each other. They don't look like people who are fighting for love. Once in a while, they even flirt.

There are two explanations for this. First, that there's nothing going on between the three of them at all.

Secondly, if there was, there's no need to be jealous.

For shippers like us, we are of the belief that something is going on between them but Taehyung and Jungkook's behavior doesn't indicate that there's any bad blood between them which is always the case when you are fighting for love.

And you are also correct about the fact that Taehyung cannot be holding on to Jimin when he's not interested in him. Taehyung is a very handsome and eligible bachelor that thousands of people want a taste of. Both men and women. If i was in his shoes, if Jimin isn't interested, it will hurt but it can also be seen as dodging a bullet because of the risk involved in actually dating him. It would be better to move on but instead, we see that there's still cordiality between them. Taehyung continues to show his affections for Jimin a lot not so much on camera but off cam showing that something is really fishy because he doesn't seem affected by what's going on between Jimin and Jungkook.

Jimin is in the middle of two men who are not even fighting because of him. It's people that are actually fighting the battle for them. Acting ridiculous, fighting on social media when the people involved don't even care and are just going about their lives like always.

Which is why part of me believes this is a strategy to keep people talking about the group. With all these, there's always something to talk about with Bts much like how we are doing right now.

Vmin has always been reserved with their affection but one thing I noticed is that if they do PDA, they just don't show it like that. There must be something backing them. For example, in 2015 or so when they recorded an amateur drama of two boys breaking up. One would see it and think, that's really gay but you have no basis or proof to show that it's gay. Why? Because they will tell you they were simply acting.

During the last bon voyage where they were in the kitchen acting all 'gay' One would see them and go 'what the hell are these two doing' but there's no basis because they will just tell you they were role playing.

They always have a back up for all their actions like when they were talking about their song friends and revealed weird things. It was even in that interview Taehyung revealed that his inspiration for his song 4'o clock came when he was waiting for Jimin early that morning at a park. Jimin himself talked about getting drunk before meeting Taehyung. Taehyung revealed he took pictures of him that Jimin wasn't even aware of no doubt making people raise their eye brows a bit. But before you can even think too much, they bring up an excuse reminding people they are just two friends.

Another example is their song 'friends'. I read a post by @btsandvmin where she mentioned that the lyrics of the song sounds romantic. If you were hearing the song without knowing the title was friends, you will think it's a romantic song but once that title 'friends' has been put, that basis has been wiped away conditioning us to think that the song is platonic when it's not really the case. Not once was the word 'friends' used. Through out, what we saw and heard was soulmates.

These two are careful. Every action has an excuse but with Jikook, it's right in your face to the point that a lot of people think they are dating. Why make it so obvious when you know how homosexuality is viewed in the country. Unless, there's really nothing to hide so there's no need to be cautious and they just show it all. But off cam, he decides to sing a song with Taehyung. After their vacation, he meets with him, stays close to him with his head on his shoulder and his hands in between his legs. Taehyung tweets sweet things about Jimin despite what he does with Jungkook. If it were the normal case, such 'love' would instantly turn into resentment. Resentment towards the both of them. Instead of tweeting sweet things about Jimin and wanting to sing duets with him, he wouldn't even want to have anything to do with him anymore (Because he's breaking his heart) causing the relationship in the group to even get affected. I don't know about you but I know I would feel resentment.

The entertainment world is not as simple as we think. To stay relevant is actually hard work especially when there are the younger upcoming generations rearing up to take your place. And to stay relevant, people need to talk about you. BTS is what they are today because all kinds of people love them. The straights, the non-straights... people of different denominations and cultures and they have to satisfy all these people. Take for instance, their newly released single Dynamite. They are Koreans and apart from Namjoon, not a single one of them can speak English yet they do it for us to satisfy the cravings of international fans. That is what it means to be in the entertainment industry.

About Jimin being bigender, we aren't sure as he hasn't come out to say such but with his changing personality, it's actually a possibility

But Vmin knows that one day these cheers will come to an end and when that day comes, they'll still be together however way they want.

Thanks for this ask and keep believing in Vmin. I purple you too. Have a great day 💜💜

[seyaryminamoto]

I feel like i'm gonna regret asking this but what is hiby

Oh. Ohohoho, oh. I recently answered this to someone else (not on this blog), I suppose there are so many newcomers in this fandom lately that HIBY has become slightly less known than it used to be.

HIBY stands for How I Became Yours, the most polemic and catastrophic fancomic in the history of the Avatar franchise. If you thought any of the official comics were problematic in any sense, woah boy, they’re goddamn flawless masterpieces compared to this thing.

Every possible angle of HIBY is problematic. Spot-on accusations of tracing were the main reason why Deviantart took down Jackie Diaz’s profile and comic from their platform. I heard Nickelodeon also got involved legally, not 100% sure on that front, but if true, they cracked down on her because she attempted to profit off this clunky mess of an inconsistent story by claiming it was somehow an official sequel to ATLA. To clarify, this last thing is something I was told, I can’t find actual sources to confirm it… so maybe I heard an exaggerated account of the tale of HIBY and it never went that far. Nevertheless, this comic didn’t need to escalate into a legal problem to be absolutely abhorrent.

In regards of art, HIBY somehow keeps discarding the asian-inspired setting seen throughout ATLA and instead favors showing the characters in European castles and outfits that don’t fit anywhere within ATLA’s world at all:

Katara is basically wearing a red version of Belle’s dress from Beauty and the Beast, if I’m not mistaken. The architecture of the place they’re at is so European it’s baffling (if I’m not mistaken, this is supposed to be Toph’s family’s house :’D). Also, it’s blatantly obvious that the background is a photograph, so she could’ve just as easily looked for photos of asian locations instead, but she picked european architecture because yes. Yet more blows against the possible artistic merits someone could offer this comic (if there’s any).

Now, though, the BIGGEST problem in HIBY is, of course, the story:

To recap: ATLA ends with Aang and Katara kissing at Ba Sing Se. Whatever problems someone may have with their relationship, or Mai and Zuko’s, or Sokka and Suki’s, it’s unquestionable that those three ships were canon by the end of the show.

Jackie Diaz’s SEQUEL COMIC doesn’t acknowledge this finale: somehow, Aang is in love with Toph but they’re not together despite there’s literally NOTHING in their way, since Aang and Katara weren’t together at all, according to Diaz. And Katara? Oh, she’s pining endlessly over Zuko, who somehow married Mai…

… Despite wanting Katara too.

… Despite he literally knocked up Katara back when the war was ending, which resulted in a miscarriage because of Mai’s wicked schemes~~!!

Can someone please explain to me in what world does it make sense for Zuko, FIRE LORD ZUKO, to be in a relationship with someone he doesn’t want, when the person he does want is RIGHT THERE, AVAILABLE, when there’s no real political consequences to ANYTHING that happens in this comic? You could say “oh no the Fire Nation people wouldn’t accept a Water Tribe woman…” … but then Zuko ends up with Katara anyways and the only problem is that Mai wants to kill them for that :’) so… no excuse works.

Basically there’s no real plot, the whole thing boils down to “I want these ships to happen and I need them to face hardships even if they don’t make sense”. The main hardship is that Mai doesn’t want her HUSBAND to carry out an affair with Katara. Zuko’s response to Mai’s obvious and reasonable complaint about their illicit relationship is to TURN VIOLENT WITH HER. And he’s the good guy :’)

Mai has a non-existent older brother Sho, who looks like a BLEACH character with Ozai’s hairstyle, and together they will try to kill Katara because, welp, someone has to give them trouble, I guess. In all fairness, the only character with a relatively logical flow of thought in this damn trainwreck is Mai. I mean, “my piece of shit husband married me for political clout, got his mistress pregnant, I didn’t want the kid to be a problem for me so I induced a miscarriage in Katara by poisoning her, probs just wanted Katara dead altogether but whatever, I only got the kid. Then Zuko threw me away despite I’m his legal wife and I’m really pissed about it so I want Katara dead” is the smartest writing in this entire comic. And no, that’s not a compliment, it’s still stupid as fuck but that’s how much more stupid everything else is. 

So, the happy couples are, like I said, Zuko and Katara, who get together despite Zuko is married to Mai, Aang and Toph, who somehow weren’t together despite there’s nothing in the way, AAAND… 

… Sokka and fake!Azula. Because I refuse to acknowledge that thing as the Princess we all love and adore.

Frankly, I consider it a miracle that HIBY didn’t destroy our ship completely when it was posted online, seeing as it was amongst the most talked-about fanmade content in Avatar’s fandom at the time. If people no longer associate Sokkla with HIBY immediately, we’ve definitely done a good job saving our poor ship’s face and showing it’s got a fuckton of potential compared to the shitfest that comic portrayed.

Why is Sokkla so problematic in HIBY? Because of fake!Azula, of course. Why is she fake!Azula? Because she’s got plot-convenient amnesia! Turns out that, for some reason, Azula forgot all the events from ATLA (let’s be real, so did Jackie Diaz so it’s not just her) and she shows up in this comic as a completely different character, so much that, upon hearing about the TERRIBLE THINGS SHE DID AND WAS, her reaction is…:

Fascinating, am I right? :’D She’s nice, sweet, shy and as good as brain-dead. And as she’s so sweet and cute now, somehow that becomes absolutely appealing for Sokka. And he falls for her, she falls for him, they bang dramatically, and so on and so forth…

Eventually Azula sacrifices herself in the final battle when Mai and her brother try to kill everyone and oh no! Sokka’s love interest dies again! Such a shocker, however, that Sokka goes to the Spirit World to save her, and unlike Iroh he succeeds… but what does Azula look like post-Spirit World shenanigans?

… Yeah, okay, fake!Azula calling anyone her “little angels” is just proof of how IC she is, if you had any doubts still.

But isn’t it FUNNY. Isn’t it HILARIOUS. That Azula not only undergoes an atom-deep brainwipe that turns her into a flat non-character, but that after dying she’s revived with WHITE HAIR, dressed in blue clothes and whatnot…?

My interpretation, and honestly, I don’t know if there’s any other possible interpretation… Jackie Diaz wanted Sokka to be with Yue :’) She fucking wrecked Azula’s character to turn her into a fake!Azula, who would eventually turn into fake!Yue after being resurrected because oh that’s just perfect to close off Sokka’s storyline, isn’t it? Only, he’s not with Yue nor with Azula because it’s neither of them. Just as it isn’t really Sokka either, or Katara, or Zuko or Aang or Toph.

Now, revisiting this trainwreck, there is a throwaway line where Ty Lee, in her (I think) only appearance in the story tells Katara that Suki and Sokka broke up. So um, Suki does exist, officially, in this comic, and she did date Sokka but it ended, and she’s back in Kyoshi Island with her team. 

Which elicits the question… why the fuck is she Mai’s maid?

I assure you, if you decide to delve deeper into this mess, you’ll absolutely find a lot more things to laugh about, to be outraged about, and to facepalm about while you wonder how on earth would someone, ANYONE, create something like this and not die of cringe looking at the finished product. It’s baffling to me.

At any rate, if you’d like to torture your own eyeballs reading this comic for yourself, there’s a Tumblr blog that gathered HIBY perfectly neatly for all curious eyes eager to torture themselves with this OOC fest. If you want more details than I care to remember about this catastrophic mess of a story, there’s always the TV Tropes page, which I think illustrates everything rather well. 

So… that’s HIBY. While I don’t think it should be sentenced to oblivion (we had best never forget the lowest lows the fandom has reached, else someone might be tempted to outdo them), this particular fanwork is quite the trainwreck in just about every regard. I really don’t think there’s anything worth salvaging in it. So, if you wanna read the whole thing (I’d be surprised if you would xD), knock yourself out in the blog link I posted up there. Otherwise, have a nice day if you still can after reading my answer to your ask :’D

[ikonxmx]

Coke n’ Hennessy Pt. 1 | Jaehyun [M]

Jaehyun spends the night with a beautiful bartender after a really bad break up. Jaehyun x Fem Reader. Inspired by Coke & Henny Pt 1. By Pink Sweat$

Word Count: 4,569 (well damn)

Warnings: Non-Idol AU. Mentions of post-breakup depression. Mentions of unhealthy coping. Mentions of alcohol consumption. Handjob. Fingering. Spanking (light). Dirty talk. Praise. Vulgar language. (Safe 😎) Sexual and suggestive themes throughout.

This is my first post for an NCT member and I’m pretty excited about it. Hopefully, all of you will enjoy it. Also please note, it’s 2 AM in California and I didn't proofread.

Rowdy drunk screeches make up the soundtrack of the night. Jaehyun had begrudgingly agreed to join his friends at the bar for a night of baseball and getting shit faced. Under normal circumstances he would have declined their less than enticing offer, but... he’s desperate. He’d been holed in his tiny one-bedroom apartment for the better part of two months, only emerging from his cave of self-deprivation and pity to obtain food. He was desperate for interaction that wasn’t through the mouthpiece of his headset and didn’t consist of flanking strategies or opponent locations being shouted at volumes so high they were almost inaudible.

The seductive lure of alcohol had also played a part in his agreeance. He hasn’t taken a drink since the night his ex dumped him, choosing to instead utilize games and food as his vices. They worked fine enough, but religiously eating a tub of cheese balls and drinking 2 cans of Red Bull a day combined with only leaving the couch for bathroom breaks and quick trips for more cheese balls had definitely taken a visible toll on his health. He broke out in places he’d never thought getting pimples was possible, but there they were. And now here he is. In a social setting attempting to fight off his post-breakup depression and enjoy life again. A step in the right direction and a step toward the bar.

“Bartender,” he calls raising his hand in an attempt to catch the woman’s attention. Your attention.

It feels awkward, possibly because it’s been so long since he last stepped foot in a bar fully intending to have more than one drink.

You turn toward the sound of a voice and attempt to spot the unfamiliar face. You find him rather quickly, his hand in the air serving as the perfect guide. “There’s 3 ahead of you hun, I’ll be there shortly,” You smile.

Jaehyun nods and watches as you quickly take the orders of two people, create their drinks and accept their payment. You’re quick, and judging by the satisfied looks of the customers, you’re good too.

“What’re you having?” You ask, lifting your eyes from the current cocktail you’re creating to boar into Jaehyun’s.

He swallows thickly. It’s only been a couple of months since the last time he’s had a drink, but he’s suddenly unable to remember the names of the cocktails he loves with you staring at him so intently. He can’t tear his eyes away from your expectant ones. You’ve finished the drink you’d been working on, collected the payment for it, and started preparing the glass for his drink all while never looking away. Your eyes aren’t rushing him, just waiting.

“Y-you choose,” he finally stutters out, afraid that his sudden lapse in memory would mess up the flow you’ve come into.

You nod, “Light or dark?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Jaehyun had never really had much of a preference for one over the other. Alcohol was a means to get drunk, which type it is, lacks importance in comparison to the outcome.

He watches as you pull a can of soda from underneath the bar and a bottle from the shelf before mixing them in what looks like equal parts into the glass you’d prepared.

“You starting a tab?” your question as you hand him the drink. He shakes his head and hands you twenty dollars cash. “The drink was only $10. Let me grab your change.”

“Keep the change.” He says quickly before lifting the cup to his lips and taking in a bit through the straw.

“It’s Coke and Hennessy… in case you wanna order another.” You wink and place what would’ve been his change into the bar’s communal tip jar.

“You going to make a move, or just keep being a big tipper for the rest of the night?” Jaehyun’s friend Johnny playfully quips.

Jaehyun had been back to the bar five times in total, three for another drink and twice in between for a glass of water. Each time you had asked if he was ready to start a tab and each time he declined, leaving the change behind as your tip. Even when you had refused to charge him for water, he slipped five dollars into the tip jar and laughed quietly at your perplexed expression.

Jaehyun shrugs at Johnny, unsure of how to answer the question. Your drinks were good, but not ten dollar tip on a ten dollar drink good. He honestly can’t figure out why he keeps going back for more. It’s not like you’ve been giving him some crazy intricate cocktail the entire night, just soda mixed with liquor. It’s so simple. But he finds comfort in it. Or maybe your smile? The way your eyes light up when he tells you to keep the change? He’ll have to get another drink to be sure.

He returns to the bar, empty cup in hand and a broad grin adorning his face. You’re there. Though this time, as the bar has calmed down, you’re not rushing to take the next patron’s order. You’re talking to a man. Another bartender, Jaehyun assumes, the identical aprons would tell as much. Jaehyun waits for the conversation to end, not willing to interrupt. He can’t hear what’s being said, but it’s the first time he hasn't seen you smile the entirety of the night and figures it’s concerning something serious. Business perhaps? The topic’s not important to him, yet he’s still a bit curious. He twiddles his thumbs aimlessly as he waits, looking over the shelves to see the different kinds of alcohol and the random pieces of artwork scattered across the walls. He notices the bar doesn’t necessarily have a clear theme. It’s just dark… with red lights and a few large TV’s covering different sporting events. In fact, it's a bit run down. Why had his friends decided to come here? More baffling, why had you decided to work here?

“Hey,” A voice calls from directly in front of him, pulling Jaehyun from his stationary tour. It’s the male bartender you’d been speaking with. “What can I get you?” His smile is friendly, but not nearly as charming as yours Jaehyun notes disappointedly.

“Ah,” Jaehyun grabs the back of his neck awkwardly. “The um-”

“He’s not ordering anything else,” A voice cuts in from beside him. Jaehyun looks toward the sound and smiles as you come into view.

The male bartender chuckles, “Thought you were leaving.”

“I am,” You answer honestly. “Just taking him with me.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widen. You pull him by the arm toward one of the only empty tables. Neither of you bothers taking a seat opting to just rest your elbows on the high table instead.

“You’ve paid ninety dollars for four drinks and two glasses of water,” You tell him over the roar of cheering in the background.

Jaehyun nods, fully aware of how much money he’s wasted at the bar tonight.

You scoff, “I should’ve asked if you were a lightweight.”

Jaehyun smiles, “I’m not,” You look at him in disbelief. “Really,” He assures you.

You look at his face, trying your best to read him but coming up short. He’s handsome, even with his face flushed red from the alcohol and the three small pimples that had clearly made themselves comfortable on his chin. He’s got these dimples, and they make an appearance with even the slightest change in his expression. They’re an added bonus to his already nice smile, pairing well with his beaming ridiculously straight teeth.

“Are you sure?” You questioned again. Through the night you’d watched him interact with his friends as you would any other customer. As a bartender, you have to know when to cut someone off. You definitely questioned his sobriety level the moment he stuffed a tip into the communal jar for comp water.

“I’m fine,” He laughs, “A little buzzed at best. I honestly don’t think you put enough Hennessy in my coca-cola.”

It’s your turn to laugh, “I was worried about making sure there was enough coca-cola in your Hennessy.” You’d been more than generous with his drinks, most bartenders are for the big tippers.

The conversation dies a bit as you both silently shift your focus to the basketball game. Jaehyun undoubtedly prefers the sound of your voice over that of the announcers and turns back to you. It’s his turn to try and read you. And as expected he can’t. Why had you pulled him away from the bar? The other bartender more than likely would have informed him that shifts switched and he would’ve ordered his final drink. Did you notice his interest? Did you take an interest yourself? These questions and more swirled through Jaehyun’s head as he watched you watch the game. Your lips move but Jaehyun wasn’t listening.

“Sorry, what?” He leans in closer so that you don’t have to strain.

You move your lips to his ear, “Tell me your name.”

“Jaehyun,” he smiles. With all his excitement of finally getting to say more than four words to you, he’d almost forgotten you didn’t know each other's names. He asks you the same question in return and you answer with a smile.

“Wanna get out of here, Jaehyun?” Your smirk

That smirk could mean a million things. It easily pushes a hundred different scenarios into Jaehyun’s mind, and suddenly the flush on his face isn’t just because of the alcohol.

“And go where?” He asks shyly.

“The beach.”

Jaehyun’s car is nice. It’s decently clean inside and out, and it’s a newer model. 2018 at least. He doesn’t say anything when you request the keys. He’s aware that it's much safer for you to drive since you haven’t had anything to drink. Though he stands by the earlier attestation of his sobriety, he wouldn’t want to put anyone in danger should he be misgauging it.

The drive to the beach is 45 minutes long, but it feels like it passes in seconds. You and Jaehyun speak about everything from pets to the ice wall you both (jokingly) agree is totally being guarded by NASA storm troopers while a playlist of mellow pop songs plays in the background. It’s nice. Jaehyun hasn’t had a conversation so random yet pleasant in a really long time. You make him feel comfortable. Which is weird since he’s only known you for a few short hours. There’s something about your presence he finds comforting. He was able to feel it at the bar as well. Though you made him slightly nervous, you also eased those nerves.

You make it to the beach in one piece. Jaehyun has a wide grin on his face as he watches you park the car where the sand meets the land. “All good?” You question as you turn to him. Upon seeing his face you can’t help but mirror his smile. Jaehyun nods, assuring he’s fine and shifts around in the passenger seat. The two of you sit there for a while, the mellow pop hits lulling in the back finally being heard in the new silence.

“Why coke and Hennessy,” Jaehyun breaks the silence quickly, already missing the sound of your voice. He’d also been curious for a while. What about him made you choose that drink of all things?

“Honestly,” you begin, a small smile on your face. “It was the first thing to come to mind.” You admit. There’d been no real reason. He didn’t particularly strike you as someone who even likes dark alcohol. But you’d burnt out on making AMF’s pretty early, and cranberry juice was too far away for a Cranberry Vodka. The simple mix was the closest thing available and your line was beginning to pile up.

“I like the honesty,” He laughs. “And I liked the drink.”

“You kept coming back for the drink?” You smirk.

He shakes his head chucking softly, “If I was only going back for the drink I wouldn’t be here with you right now.”

“Is that right?”

“Absolutely.”

It goes quiet again for a short period of time. You speak up before Jaehyun can this time. “Should we take a walk on the beach?”

“If I can hold your hand…”

You laugh, “You can hold my hand.”

“Can I kiss you?” Jaehyun asks boldly.

You’re taken aback by the request. Sure he had hinted toward his attraction to you throughout the night, but nothing this blatant.

He chuckles at your expression and heats up in embarrassment. “Was that too forward?”

“No,” You admit quickly. It’s your turn to be embarrassed. You answered the question just a little too fast. “It wasn’t, you just… caught me a bit off guard.”

Jaehyun removes his seat belt and leans over the center console. You do the same and laugh as you come face to face with his cheeky grin.

“So can I kiss you?” Jaehyun asks again.

You reach a hand up the back of his neck and gently caress his cheek with your thumb. “No, but you can kiss me back.”

It’s so light that Jaehyun is confused about whether you’ve really kissed him or not. It takes a while for his brain to finally register the light pressure against his lips as yours. He returns the kiss, hands reaching up toward the back of your neck and pulling you closer. Just like that he’s leading the kiss. There’s a heavier pressure and slight neediness to it. Jaehyun hadn’t realized just how much he wanted to kiss you until now. Now that he is actually doing it, and you’re sighing against his lips, Jaehyun feels like a starved man finally getting food. He never wants this to end. He feels your lips part slightly and wastes no time experimentally dipping his tongue between them.

You give a small kitten lick of your own, interested in seeing just how this kiss will pan out. Your heart beats excitedly in your chest as you wait on Jaehyun’s next move. Another swipe of his tongue. You impatiently take the reigns, pulling him closer and pushing past his lips. Your tongues meet and Jaehyun moans. You can’t help the small smile that forms.

Jaehyun moves his free hand toward your waist, desperate for more. More of anything. He wants to feel you… hear you. Every small whimper or sigh you release hits his ears like the opening chords to his favorite song. He can’t help but feel excited. Jaehyun shifts uncomfortably in the passenger seat as his ‘excitement’ pushes against the confines of his jeans. There’s no subtly to it, he couldn’t be subtle if he tried right now. All he can hope is that you’re not offended by his body’s reaction.

You notice the second time he shifts and quickly reach your hand to the noticeable outline, eager to hear what sound he’ll make this time. You’re not disappointed. Your ears are met with a rather loud groan. You pull away to watch his face as you massage him over his jeans. It doesn’t take long for his skin to flush an even prettier shade of pink and his breathing to labor.

“The windows are going to fog,” You tease as you change your position to get a better grip. 

Jaehyun throws his head back completely uncaring. He rushes his own hand down to his jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them as quickly as he can. He grunts out his pleasure when your hand comes in contact with his hardened member over his boxer briefs. It’s one less layer between you, but it’s still not close enough. It still feels like he needs more. He reaches over, returning his hand to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and crushing his lips to yours.  His hips thrust into your palm, chasing the pleasure it provides.

You move your hand past his boxers and grip his uncovered hot flesh. He pulls away from your mouth with a loud moan.

“Fuck.” he pants against your lips.

“Feel good?” You tease as you speed up your fist.

“So fucking good,”

Every melodious moan, groan and sigh he releases heads directly to your core. Your need grows, starting in the pit of your stomach and pooling down until it reaches your damp underwear. “Jaehyun,” you whine his name in hopes of catching his attention but he’s far too enthralled in his own pleasure to notice. You whine louder, slowing your hand to a near stop simultaneously. Jaehyun’s head whips toward you and he lets out a whine of his own, his hips bucking up to chase the friction he’s losing.

“Please don’t stop,” He begs near tears.

You almost feel bad, but the ache between your thighs his whine causes pushes any sympathy you feel away.

“Touch me,” You demand, lifting up so you’re on your knees, leaning over the center console. 

Jaehyun moans. Is this a dream? He’s wanted to touch you all night, but even with your hand down his pants, he didn’t have the confidence to reciprocate. Reaching a hand around he begins to run his fingers over your jean covered center. It’s hot to the touch and Jaehyun can feel your sex twitching with need. He gradually increases the pressure as he continues watching in awe as your hips push back to meet his fingers, grinding against the air and his digits.

He pulls his hand back, sprawling his palm across your ass and massaging the flesh before quickly lifting it and bringing it down. He isn’t sure how you’ll react to the blow but has high hopes you’ll be in agreeance. His worried nerves are eased upon hearing you release a deep sigh. So he continues, striking your ass again... And then again.

“You’re so wet,” He voices his observance, returning his fingers to your covered core. You’ve dampened your jeans, a clear sign of your arousal making an appearance through the thick material. “Want to feel you.”

You lift yourself up as much as you can, the hand on his dick abandoning its post in favor of your new mission. Undressing your lower half. You clumsily remove your shoes, socks, and jeans, and toss them to the back seat uncaringly. Jaehyun reaches over after your jeans have been removed and returns his hand to your core, the soaked material of your underwear immediately coating his fingers.

“So wet,” He sighs, reaching up and reconnecting your lips.

You kiss him back with fervor. His middle and ring fingers gracefully switch between sweeping through your covered folds and rubbing at your sensitive clit. You moan, desperate for more but much too embarrassed to beg.

Jaehyun isn’t one for begging, though he’s sure the please would sound gorgeous leaving your lips, he feels your body language is loud enough. You haven’t stopped moaning, your hips haven’t stopped moving, and you’ve taken a strong fondness to nibbling his bottom lip. Feeling the boldest he’s felt tonight, he wordlessly shifts the fabric of your panties to the side and slides a single digit into your heat.

“Shit,” He curses feeling a harsher bite.

“I’m sorry,” You moan pulling away, panting slightly. “Caught me off guard.”

He says nothing, instead opting to watch your face as his middle finger glides in and out of your sopping sex.

“I can’t believe how wet you are,” He admits.

You almost go to hide your face in embarrassment, but the intrusion of a second finger halts your actions. The pleasant stretch has you moaning out in bliss and pushing back to chase the fingers as they retract. 

Jaehyun can feel your sex fluttering around his fingers as they enter you. It’s clear to him you’re enjoying yourself, the arousal coating his fingers serving as all the proof he needs. But, he can’t help but feel greedy for more. His fingers speed up and twist to reach every angle inside of your sopping center as he searches for the spongy flesh of your g-spot. You let him know as soon as he’s found it, doubling over and panting out a continuous mix of ‘right there' and ‘don’t stop’. It’s a bit awkward but he tries his best to keep the angle, watching you intently as he does. Your face is contorted in pleasure, lips parted, eyebrows knit, eyes sealed; you’re a complete masterpiece to Jaehyun. He’s not sure how you can get anymore more beautiful.

“I’m gonna cum,” You admit, grabbing at his thigh with one hand to anchor yourself. With your other hand, you reach back to your front and rub harsh circles against your clit. Your high hits suddenly and Jaehyun works you through it, never letting up his pace or changing from the spot he’s found until he’s sure you’ve finished. The hand you had used to help bring yourself to completion, swings up to join your other on Jaehyun’s thigh. Your eyes open, the blissful hayes of your orgasm slowly subsiding.

“So fucking sexy,” Jaehyun whines, shifting in his seat, his long-neglected erection straining harshly against the fabric of his underwear.

“Please tell me you have a condom,” You sigh. He reaches forward and pulls the lever to open his glove box. Sat neatly inside is an unopened pack of condoms. Your next sigh is one of relief. You swipe the condoms and reclose the compartment quickly. “Push the seat all the way back.” You instruct.

Jaehyun listens quickly, pulling the switch to send the seat back and catching you when you nearly lose your balance. He watches as you almost comically climb over the console and take a seat on his thigh. You struggle with the condom for a while before Jaehyun impatient takes the rubber from your hand and opens it himself.

You watch as he removes his dick from the confines of his boxer briefs and slowly rolls the condom down his erect length. He pumps himself a few times once the condom is on, making sure it’s on the right way and that friction won’t cause any air pockets to form. Feeling confident enough with his application, you grip his wrist and remove his hand. A swing of your leg and you’re straddling him, your heated and soaking center just above this throbbing cock.

All he needs to do is line up your center with his member and slide into your sex, everything he desires at this moment is within grasp, but he can’t bring himself to make the move. Everything tonight has been your call, and for some reason, Jaehyun likes it that way. You chose his drink, you chose to come to the beach, you had him get you off first… Why end that now? He moves a hand to your wait in preparation but doesn’t make another move. His eyes are glued to where you two sexes meet, watching as your juices glisten over your folds and his dick jumps in anticipation.

You place a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself and use the other hand to reach for his cock. A small drop in your hips sends his length sliding against your folds. You watch with a small smile as Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows. Another more precise drop has his tip entering your heat. He sighs a bit and tightens his grip on your waist. You continue, drop after drop, easing his thick length into you bit by bit.

Jaehyun’s toes curl as you lift yourself up, your walls squeezing him so tightly he feels like he could cum any minute. He wants so badly for this experience to last. There's an amazingly beautiful woman sat on top of his dick, moaning as she takes what she can, and hissing as she tries to take more.

“Fuck,” You curse sliding yourself down again. “You’re so fucking big.”

“Your pussy is so wet,” Jaehyun moans. “Take some more, I know you can.”

You lift yourself up and drop again in an attempt to take more, but the stretch almost seems too much.

“Want my help?”

You nod, slightly exhausted from your earlier orgasm and exerting so much energy trying to fuck in such a tight space.

Jaehyun keeps his hold on your hips firm and raises his own up. He listens to every whine you let out as he slides more and more of himself into your sex, grunting out his own pleasure when he finally bottoms out inside you. He becomes less gentle. You feel too good to be gentle. As much as his mind yells at him to savor the moment and take things slow, his body is begging him to fuck you senseless.

“You feel so good,” He whines, tensing up at the feel of his impending end. He can’t cum yet. He’s just getting started. Jaehyun grounds his feet into the floor below him and picks up the pace.

“Oh shit,” You moan feeling him touch areas inside you you’re pretty sure no other man has. He feels amazing, the original sting of him stretching you has started to subside and is being replaced by insurmountable amounts of pleasure. Somehow your body is still greedy, begging for more. Although you’ve cum once already, it’s begging you for another. “You like the way my pussy feels?” You pant into his ear.

“Fuck yeah, so fucking wet,” He all but growls. Confidence being spurred by your dirty words, he picks up his pace again. “Your pussy’s gonna make me cum.”

“I wanna come on your cock,” You moan into his ear.

“Fuck,”

Jaehyun’s hips stutter at your words, the rhythm he’s come into suddenly getting lost.

“You want me to?” You question.

“Of course I do.”

You wordlessly bring his hand in between the two of you. He gets the hint and begins sloppily rubbing circles against your clit. You moan into his ear, pitch increasing bit by bit as you feel another climax approaching. 

Jaehyun’s entire body is tense as he fights off the need to cum. He wants to feel your walls flutter around his cock the same way they did his fingers earlier. He wants you to cum first.

“Shit, Jaehyun. Fuck me harder,” You instruct. Jaehyun obeys rutting up into your sex with a fervor you’d yet to see from him tonight. “Oh fuck, just like that. I’m cumming!”

You walls clench and release around his length. The tension in Jaehyun’s body releases as he lets himself succumb to his own climax. He stills deep inside of you, filling the condom to the brim with his seed. Jaehyun can’t remember the last time he’s cum so hard. His hips twitch to prolong the pleasure, more cum leaving his exhausted body.

He collapses in the seat, chest rising and falling rapidly as he attempts to catch his breath. You’re doing the same, but can’t help but smile when you see his blissfully fucked out expression. You chuckle.

Jaehyun looks up at you, his cheeks turning that cute shade of pink again.

“Don’t get all shy now. Not when your dick is still inside me,” You tease.

“I don’t want to take it out,” Jaehyun admits with a laugh.

You lean down and peck his lips before raising yourself from his lap. He mock frowns.

“Think I should be driving you home now,” You say as you reach for your underwear in the backseat.

He grabs your hand, effectively stopping your movement and pulling your full attention to him.

“If you stay the night…”

END

I really hope you guys enjoyed, it took... so long. But, I feel way better now that it’s done! my first fic for an NCT member!! Time for some drabbles.

[celestialholz]

Riddle Me This

So, uh... casually reblogging on the train yesterday morning, and there was this:

(Find the original over here: https://anxietyproblem.tumblr.com/post/184795738758)

And well, Qcard inspiration, basically. I’m beginning to think I can literally Qcard anything ever, to be perfectly honest, but have some dumb, wholesome and warming fun for your Wednesday evening anyway, because I write far too much angst and sometimes I think I need to lighten up a little lmao

This is dedicated to @q-card​ as we had a bit of a crap day yesterday and we deserve some silliness and love, as do you lovely people. <3

------

It’s not even a full minute into his shift when he hears an echoed ping; he spins, baffled, almost coating himself in the first tea of the morning, ready to reestablish boundaries in as few syllables as possible, but to his surprise, it isn’t Q. Instead, it’s simply an ancient piece of parchment, and he makes for it in mild intrigue, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes - what in the cosmos could be so important that he couldn’t have said ten minutes earlier, when they were still half-dressed and making their way through overly sugared pastries? If the god thinks this new relationship is about to devolve to the level of note-passing -

He stares at the elaborate cursive for a moment, brilliant in scarlet ink, and purses his lips.

“‘I am the beginning of everything, the end of everywhere. I am the beginning of eternity, the end of time and space. What am I?’” He reads aloud in disbelief. 

... Dear galaxies, it’s even worse than notes.

He considers it for a moment, chiding himself for even humouring the riddle - it’s hardly the conundrum of saving three Enterprises simultaneously, or proving humanity worthy of continuing. He’s a Starfleet captain, for pity’s sake, and he’s fairly certain that the kindergarten population of the ship could come up with something reasonably accurate in response.

“Do you want to know now?” He questions thin air dryly, narrowing his eyes in anticipation of an amused Q’s appearance; handwriting further writes itself across the page instead, and Picard can almost taste the self-satisfaction.

No, no. I can see you’re incredibly busy, wouldn’t want to disturb your vital mission. 

He consults the ready room ceiling in palpable exasperation and takes a seat, surveying the latest duty roster just so he looks suitably preoccupied to any casual, omniscient observer. It takes him a moment to realise something profoundly annoying: this is a riddle from an ancient entity, known for his complex tests, and therefore it can’t be that simple.

... Can it?

-------

“All ahead, ensign - warp five,” he instructs mid-morning, a proud, “aye, Captain” setting them off towards the closest starbase to meet a Risan diplomat. He settles into his seat, glances across at his first.

“Number One,” he begins, “may I ask you something?”

“Of course, sir,” Riker replies goodnaturedly, brow raised. “Do we need to adjourn?”

“Oh no, we’re just fine here. A simple example of wordplay for you, if you’ll indulge me.”

The brow hitches further, and the beginnings of a grin form on his friend’s lips.

“A riddle, Captain? Haven’t humoured those in a while. Go ahead.”

He recites Q’s riddle verbatim, and Riker stares at him for a moment, expression bemused.

“... I’ll be honest with you, sir,” he says eventually, “was kind of hoping for something more elaborate.”

Picard blinks for a second, nodding.

“Mm, so was I,” he replies dryly, staring up at the viewscreen. “It really isn’t any more interesting than the obvious, is it?”

“Don’t think so, no. Sorry to disappoint you.” Riker grins, shrugging, and Picard smiles back.

“Forget I asked, Commander. Thank you anyway. You have the bridge.”

--------

He finds exactly who he’s been looking for for a while in Engineering; Data’s halfway up a Jeffries tube, reciting conduit issues to the computer, and Picard crouches down, glancing up at his second.

“Mister Data,” he greets, “you’re quite the poet, I’m sure you’ll enjoy a riddle I’ve been pondering.”

Data’s head quirks to a curious angle given the lack of space, bewildered.

“Would you prefer we discussed this out in the open, Captain?” He enquires mildly, and Picard barely represses a smirk.

“No, no need - I won’t take up much of your time.”

“As you wish,” says the android, voice echoing around the tube. “I must confess to being intrigued at the prospect, sir.”

“Knew you would be.” Picard smiles quietly, and plays the words back aloud.

“... There are eight hundred and sixteen potential responses in Federation standard,” he replies simply, “ranging from the metaphysical to the -”

“Alphabetical?” Another voice answers fondly, and Picard glances up at his grinning chief engineer. “Sometimes, Data, an egg is just an egg.”

“... I am perplexed by your choice of vernacular, Geordi. What do dietary requirements have to do with the Captain’s riddle?”

Picard doesn’t even need to stare up at the familiar puzzlement of the Commander to acknowledge it. 

“Although Commander La Forge is most likely correct, sir - the most logical option is the most plausible in this instance. Riddles do tend to have simple conclusions, and none of the alternate options fit quite as well.”

Amusement fills Picard as he quietly excuses himself with a nod, leaving his colleagues exchanging confused glances.

-------

“Guinan,” he questions, half an hour from the starbase, “how are you with riddles?”

“I prefer my words less shadowed,” the El-Aurian replies from nine decks hence, matter-of-fact. “Why do you ask, Captain?”

“Personal curiosity,” he answers not untruthfully. “What do you make of this one?”

He recites it lightly, unconsciously leaning forward onto elbows as he awaits her response - if anyone aboard could have any manner of higher wisdom, it’s surely his old friend, her mostly eradicated race largely a mystery even to him -

Guinan clears her throat, and he can clearly visualise her dry expression.

“You’re a deeply intelligent guy, Jean-Luc,” she answers in exasperation. “You can’t tell me you don’t already know the answer to that.”

“Well of course I know it,” he exclaims woefully. “But I can’t help feeling it isn’t so easy.”

“... I mean, could be ‘nothingness’, I guess, but that’s even more ridiculous than the answer.”

“Mm,” he mutters in agreement, hesitating - his new relationship with Q isn’t something he ever wants to reveal to anyone, and especially not to Guinan, but perhaps a vague hint couldn’t hurt...

“If I told you this was set by someone known for being, well... difficult, would it alter your solution?”

“That’s most of the known galaxy in my experience. Are they also known for being stupid?”

Picard almost chokes on tea at the very idea. “Good lord, no.”

“No, then,” she replies honestly.

“... Ah.”

------

His afternoon of diplomacy having gone as well as it ever can with such an awkward ambassador and his mind as plagued as it’s become over the course of the day, Picard finds he can’t quite help himself as they arrive in transporter room one. The Risan’s clearly intelligent, has spent the last few hours desperately trying to prove as such, and amiable enough.

“Ambassador,” he asks as he nods at the chief, “perhaps a parting gift, as a show of good favour towards our new trade agreement. What humans would call a ‘riddle’; lateral thinking, in the form of wordplay.”

“I did think I’d had quite enough of your wordplay today,” replies the man indulgently, and Picard internally winces, “but as it’s an intellectual custom, please feel free.”

“Wonderful. Now...”

The Risan glances at him in disbelief a moment later.

“... Do they tend to be so simplistic, Captain?” He asks in amusement.

“Usually, yes,” he murmurs almost to himself. “Thank you, Ambassador. I’ll inform Starfleet of our conclusions post-haste, don’t let me keep you any longer.”

“Good show, Picard. Travel safe.”

“And you, Kanfla. Engage.”

Miles stares at him as he leaves, agape.

“... You do know that the answer, right sir?”

Picard rolls his eyes. “Yes, chief.”

------

He’s rather exhausted his options at this point, he realises darkly shortly before he clocks off. Beverly, whilst an invaluable friend and exceedingly helpful, is a woman of science and logic who will consider him likely in the first throes of something nasty and neurological if he starts questioning simple conclusions; Deanna, he acknowledges warily, is likely to assume him troubled and attempt to pry the depths of his psyche, and he takes little joy in being his dear counselor’s subject even when he needs to be. So that leaves -

He takes a subtle breath, and spins in his seat, glad the bridge crew’s on a split shift today and therefore that no one has to hear this twice.

“Mister Worf,” he begins primly.

“Captain?” The Klingon asks attentively.

“... May you indulge me for a moment?”

“Of course, sir.”

“A... riddle.” He almost grimaces, hides it admirably - he doesn’t doubt his lieutenant’s intelligence, but Worf is hardly known for his verbal subtleties or affection for the lateral; indeed, he looks mildly annoyed at the very notion.

“... Captain, with respect, I am not certain I would be of much use to you. Perhaps Counselor Troi would be a more... suitable choice.”

Picard’s lip twists for a split second, and he nods, pulls down his shirt promptly, and stares blankly out into space.

“... Mm,” he answers fairly. “As you were, Lieutenant.”

“... Yes, Captain.”

-------

He finds Q sipping something luminous from a spiral-shaped flute upon his return to his quarters, periwinkle blue sequins shimmering upon the evening robe he’s adopted, and the god grins at his appearance.

“Ah, mon capitaine!” He greets in delight, and damn his cursed riddles, but Picard admits privately that there’s something distinctly warm in his chest at the sight of him - of having someone he cherishes to come home to.

... Not that he has any intention of showing him as such, of course; their kiss is perfunctory at best, and his withdrawing look could sour honey.

“Oh, come now, dearest - you aren’t stuck, are you?” He teases, amused. “Do give me your answer, won’t you? The anticipation’s been driving me mad.”

Picard stares at him, trying desperately to cling to irritation rather than silently melt at the excitement in those eternal eyes. 

“You challenge me,” he’d said not two nights earlier against a pillow, fingers trailing across his captain’s cheek. “IQ of two thousand and five, darling. I see everything, I can do everything; do you have any idea how rare that is?”

He valiantly maintains his exasperated countenance, and answers dryly, “The letter ‘e’.”

Q’s face falls with an almost comical suddenness. 

“... What?” He says in disbelief. “What in the galaxies -”

He snaps, summons back the paper that’s spent its day upon the ready room desk, scanning it for a half-moment before raising disappointed eyes back to Picard’s bemused ones.

“Well yes, alright, fine,” he dismisses, “admittedly that does fit quite nicely, but did you really think I was going to offer you something with such a depressingly basic solution? Think about it, man!”

This is their acquaintance, Picard notes with a quiet thrill; the permanent game, ramped up to warp ten now that they’re lovers, every touch and night cycle whisper a tease, a promise, an idle nothingness laced with potential meaning.

He has no intention of failing, however little he has to prove any more, and so he thinks through that brilliant stare, mulls the words over his mind.

Beginning of everything; end of everywhere. Beginning of...

“... Ah,” he murmurs, humoured despite a certain weariness. “Ought to have realised it was self-indulgent.”

“’Self -’? Oh,” Q answers softly, smirking. “Well obviously it could be me, yes, but I was thinking rather, er... closer to home, Jean-Luc.”

Picard’s mouth opens, though he realises belatedly that he has nothing of note to say. 

“You... meant me?” He asks dumbly, baffled. “How can I possibly be -”

“Perspective.” Q smiles warmly, dots fingers across his uniform before clasping a hand quietly. “You begin and end everything for me, my dear. Honestly, your colleagues are morons - you’re right here! How could that not have occurred to th -”

Picard embraces him spontaneously, buries himself in a warm chest, treasures the arms that encircle him fiercely in response.

“You’re an overly dramatic fool,” he scolds tenderly, no heat at all to the words. “You can just say things sometimes, Q.”

“Too dull,” he drawls, grinning from somewhere above his favourite mortal. “We don’t do dull, dearest.”

He presses a soft kiss to Picard’s skull, and the captain wonders idly how he could ever have been annoyed.

[millennial-star-gazer]

Fire And Gold: Chapter: 2

Fire and Gold

Nalu Lovefest 2019 Prompts: Magic, Memories, Reckless, Worship & Cravings (All Implied)

Genres: Romance, Humor, New Adult Fanfiction

Pairing: Nalu/Endlu (Natsu x Lucy & E.n.d. Natsu x Lucy)

Rating: T-M for language, steamy and mature adult sexual content (all consensual) in these and future chapters. Reader Direction is advised.(You've been warned!)

Summary: Let the day be known when fire tested gold in the most intimate sense. The forging of a mating bond between the dragon-demon hybrid and celestial maiden while further strengthening the relationship they already have. Natsu finally confesses his romantic feelings for Lucy at and asks to claim her as his mate and queen; though not without it taking a bit for it to fully sink in for the poor, baffled woman. The first chapter is one of my entries for Nalu Lovefest 2019 and part of my ongoing Nalu (The Demon-Dragon and His Celestial Princess) anthology series set not too long after the events of the original manga/anime.(Slight Au).

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Chapter 2: Piece by Piece

A/N: Hey guys, here's the long-awaited second chapter to Fire And Gold! Fun fact: The chapter title is inspired by the Eivor song of the same name which fits the overall mood of said chapter. Anyway, just wanted to give a major kudoos and shoutout to the amazing @bmarvels for acting as my beta which included edits and further development of this chapter! Now without further ado,back to the story!    Enjoy!

(Note: Scroll down past the cut/”read more “ button  for corresponding links and the actual chapter

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Disclaimer: I don't own Fairytail which instead belongs to the one and only Hiro-sensei instead!

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Read  Fire And Gold on other platforms along with  the rest of my writing here: 

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1. Fire And Gold

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Previous (Click Here:) (or here:https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/188352111043/fire-and-gold-chapter-1-a-simple-spark-nalu)

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Legend

Italics: Flashback/literary or song quotes (If Any of the most former )

Bold: First Person Thoughts

Bolded Italics: empathized word

Bolded Italics: outside of main story): A/N -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Piece by piece

You put me together

Till I am no longer

Broken"

"You see who I am

Deep down inside

I grow by the light of your gaze

You fill me with wonder

Fill me with hope

You have opened up my mind

I see everything in every little thing

When you're by my side"

( Eivør : Snippets of Piece By Piece)

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"Some of our friends are talking about us like we're not there ."

"Come on, Luce... don't worry about it." Natsu blithely waved off his partner's observation with a grin, clearly unfazed  by their guild mate's less-than-discreet side conversation. "You and me got way more important things to discuss. That kiss spell it out enough?"

"Yep — Message received loud and clear."

"Good—- though took ya' long enough weirdo." He teased, eyes twinkling with mirth. "Been subtly dropping hints for weeks ever since I decided try to make my feelings known. Didn't think it'd take you this long seeing how you're one of the smartest people I know. Just a bit slow on the uptake, I guess. Least' it helped knowing that you're just as crazy about me going off what I overheard from your 'girl talk' with Levy and the others. Otherwise, I woulda’ thought you weren't interested and given up trying."

"Oh... I see" Lucy noted a little more meekly than usual; heat-infused blood most likely rising in her cheeks. She couldn't help but be a tad self-conscious over unwittingly leaking the lurid details of what was honestly believed to be a discreet conversation.

My bad...

"So... uh... that's how you already knew— Oops. Ehh... That's kind of embarrassing.” Fingers were twirling a loose strand of hair in a physical display of mortification. " You really heard those, huh?"

"Yup!" The fire wizard popped the "p", flashing Lucy a smug-shit-eating-kind-of grin that set her heart a flutter. "Got hypersensitive hearing, remember? All those awesome things you were saying really fired me up, too. Anyway, you really should be more careful— never know who might be listening." He gave a wink with his usual teasing chuckle.

"That's for sure— guess I will have to more careful." Lucy's voice was a bit softer, mentally betraying herself for the other guildmates presence slipped her mind.

Man can it be a real challenge to keep anything a secret here at times...

"Definitely. It's all good though— you're still amazing, intelligent, loyal to a fault," Natsu's voice dropped lower with an extra pause between words. Not to mention the glimmer of intent in those onyx-green eyes.. The fire wizard's hand reached towards Lucy's face, calloused fingers tucking  a stray tendril of blonde hair behind her ear in a feather soft touch; before cupping the cheek of said mage who couldn't help but lean into his  palm . 

This is a completely new side  of him I've never seen before-more gentle and romantic.

"Not to mention you're sweet, caring, and an incredible wizard in your own right with plenty of spunk and a heart of gold. Definitely a great listener and super easy to talk with too — all in all an amazing and fun person to be around. Oh and did I mention how easy on the eyes you are?" 

"You.. really think so?" The celestial wizard inquired, voice sounding breathy to her own ears from being completely spellbound by her firey partner's words .

Natsu's not always much for words but he seems to be saying all the right things right now to keep me hooked. Basically putty in his hands here.

"Yeah! And I mean you seriously are the most gorgeous, sexy, and adorable girl I've ever laid eyes on. With that on top of everything else, what's not to love? You're everything I could want or need in a mate-slash-queen and more."

"Mate?" Lucy echoed in question, the last words really catching her attention. Interesting. The celestial mage's brain was buzzing swimming with piqued intrigue from the implications of Natsu what said; despite only being familiar with mates as a general concept.

I remember learning about how some animals mate for life in my lessons growing up—but don't think I've ever heard that term come up in conversation with Natsu before. Wonder what that could mean for us...

"You mean like a soul mate?"

"Exactly like that, yeah" came the dragon slayer's reply with a touch of pride; as if recalling centuries of ancient knowledge that were passed down— most likely through Ingeel. "The exact word you used is basically another term for mates that pretty sums what it means for dragon slayers. Ya probably learned growin' up bout' how some animals mate for life , right?"

"Yeah..."

"Okay, cool . So that whole thing isn't really that different for dragon slayers . Same goes for demons and hybrids—myself included- though those mates are also their queens. Oh and instead of just for life, they're soul-bonded for all eternity."

"Sounds pretty intimate." Lucy peered up at him through through the fringe of her thick lashes, the heat of his hand on her cheek still very much noticeable.

"It definitely is— believe me. Gods know how much I want you to be my girlfriend— but also far more than that at the same time. Dragons, demons, and hybrids have one person who they're drawn to- one person they're meant to be with. Not to mention the burning passion for their chosen that's unlike anything else— even by regular human standards."

"Wow..." There was so much she didn't realize, or maybe just didn't think more into about it, just how much a slayer's mate entailed. Yet, here Natsu was discussing the details to her as if it were one of their every -day conversations. Mavis knows she couldn't help the fluttering in her stomach with the way he was speaking about it all.

Normally, this would might overwhelming for some but not when it comes to the one guy I've been pining for so long. I mean it's all so exciting!"

"I know it's probably a lot to take in, but Lucy, you're literally that person for me. You're the one I've been always been inexplicably drawn to ever since we first met. The one who I see in my dreams when I fall asleep at night. The one who I'd go to hell and back for, who I'd do anything for to protect and keep safe. The one who I can't stand to be apart from for too long and whose face I wanna wake up to the rest of my life. Can't help but—" Natsu's thumbs were stroking along the curve of  Lucy's cheeks; so light, delicate, so tender, so gentle in touch that it sent electric sparks racing through her nerves . "I just can't help but want to claim you for myself and myself alone. "You're pretty much my other, better half, who I didn't even know I was searching for until I finally met you— and now I have. I don't always pour my heart out so publicly like this— ask anyone we know-but there's no one else out there for me. Never has been and never will be."

Holy hell did the celestial's heart melt delight from the sincerity resonating in each and every one of the dragon slayer's words.

Huh... Just when I think I couldn't fall any harder or be more attracted to the guy, he goes and says all this.

"It's no secret to anyone now that I've fallen for ya', Luce— hard. No going back now— you're all I see in the romantic sense. Not that others aren't important or that I care any less about them — but how I feel for you is different. Not inferior, just different. You've always been among those most precious to me... kind of like the brightest star of my universe that lights up my life in a way no else could. Damn, I sound pretty sentimental right now I don't care. Hell, said this more than once already—- but I swear I'm gonna love you with everything I've got in me. Not just today, but for all of this life and each and every one that comes after that—forever."

Holy crap does he have a way with words...

"Wow Natsu, that was something else…" Lucy was in awe, deeply touched by the stirring power of his heartfelt pledge.

"Thanks— means a lot to hear how impressed you are." "I'll say..."

"Yeah, we both know I'm more of a man of action— but my words are straight from the heart. Which leads to the question I wanna ask".

"Shoot." Lucy watched the fire eater with attentive eyes .

Wonder what else he wants to say.

"Kay, here goes. Will you let me claim you, Luce?" Nastu's voice was hopeful with just a tiny smidge of nerves . Probing, emerald eyes were meanwhile searching Lucy's face as if gauging her reaction. "Officially? As my mate and queen?"

This might be the most open I've ever seen him..

"Yes," came stellar mage's automatic reply without a shred of hesitation or second thought. Not to mention how the thrilling, romantic prospect of belonging to the fire demon for all eternity flooded her veins with a cozy warmth unlike any other.

Not only do we have an entire lifetime to spend together—but I also get to be bound to him in every conceivable way for all time? Awesome! Can this get any better?!

"I'd love to be yours, mate,queen, soul-bound—everything."

"Really? You accept?" He couldn't seem to help but double trying to contain the bubbling excitement threatening to burst from him.

"Of course— nothing would make me happier!"

"Score!"

Nastu's entire face lit up with an audible whoop just as Lucy let out a feminine squeal; from arms spinning her around after a lift .

" You... this... I can't .. holy crap this is so awesome!" The fire wizard dropped another ecstatic kiss on the moonstruck astral mage's waiting lips . "Did i mention how much I love you already, sweetheart? Well that's just too damn bad—won't ever grow tired of reminding ya for as the rest of our lives here in this world and after that! So glad that you're finally mine! I mean, I had a pretty good feeling you'd accept my claim... but hearing it directly is... Holy Crap! So stoked—like people have no idea!"

"Though I do " came Lucy's reply, a fond smile tugging at the corner of her lips. God, was being in Natsu's arms ever incredible—absolute perfection she couldn't help but revel in.

Don't think I'll ever get enough.

Not to mention, he didn't seem intent on releasing her from his embrace any time soon if the pure adoration shining  in his eyes was any indication to go by. Not that I'm complaining.

"And you're definitely right about me feeling the same." Lucy assured him, her hands resting on his warm, well-muscled chest.

"Course' I was, weirdo!"

"Aw, look how smitten those two are!" Levy fawned over the couple from the sidelines. "Beyond sweet!"

"Yeah, I'll say" Gajeel concurred , admiration colouring his tone. "Looks like one of Salamander's official term of endearments for Lucy already came naturally to him— like it often does with other dragons slayers, demons and their mates ."

"Oh my God yes— I heard that too! I absolutely love that Natsu called her sweetheart— just as sweet as the endearment terms you have for me. Plus, can I just say how amazing it is that these two are officially an item now? "

"Definitely— I'm happy for them too."

"I know, right?!"

"Aye- they make a great couple already! He loves herrrrr!" trilled Happy in a sing-song voice. "Isn't that right, Natsu?"

"You  better believe it, little buddy!"

Damn is he amazing ... The way Natsu was practically shouting his undying love for his mate to the rooftops with exultant abandon. No wonder adoration swelled in her heart!

"Hear that, everyone?!  I love Lucy Heartfilia with all my heart and soul!"

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A/N: There you have it peeps-Chapter 2! I really don't have much to say this time except to be sure to let me know what you think by leaving a comment/review, liking and reblogging! Please feel free to stay tuned for Chapter 3 and to check out the rest of my writing. (Corresponding Links are above, in the navigation bar and bio if reading this on tumblr. Please also see my FF and A03 profiles!) All right, that's all for now folks! Thanks to everyone for the incredible show of support so far! Until next time-take care!

[darkestwolfx]

Numbers

I had a few ideas when I first read this one, but I thought I wanted to go with something I don't usually write – not for want of inspiration, but more logistics from the show side of things.

You can play around with the ages in your head as I haven't specified, but we're talking school ages, kind of before International Rescue. I'm thinking of using this in my Young Tracy's series too, so hair colours etc at in TOS form for this one.  Longest one yet I think too.

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18: Numbers

Summary: Gordon had a passionate hatred for numbers and figures.

Words: 2199

Spoilers: None.

--------

There were people in the world who could achieve great things with numbers. Mathematicians who came up with great problems and solutions and played around with numbers like a baby did toys and a rattle.

There were also people in the world who could achieve great things without numbers. Like artists and athletes and circus performers and… heck, what did it matter? You didn't often hear about people like that, people who struggled with numbers like a baby did walking.

Being a child was hard enough without being a brother.

Being a brother was hard enough without being one of the younger ones.

Being a younger brother was hard enough without having older brothers who could do what you could not.

Gordon was slightly glad to no longer be the youngest, yes. But it still remained that he had three older brothers and those brothers were far more academic than he.

Virgil – lucky bug – could maintain a good average and be artistic, the perfect combination of both who was strong and yet delicate, smart and yet creative. Had the middle child just been creative, his teachers wouldn't have been half as kind, but because he was both it was like summer come early, all bright smiles and praise.

Scott – for all he was the eldest – was not the smartest, though he didn't like to hear it. But the point remained that he was capable of trudging on through, enough that he would be able to join the Air Force just like their Father had. The eldest wasn't the best with numbers on paper, but he was good at crunching any needed for flight. Pilot mode, as Gordon referred to it.

John – for all Gordon loved him, really loved him – was a pain in the ass. He didn't try to be, he never asked to be, but the blonde was inexplicably gifted. And really that should be plural, but Gordon was sure gifted didn't have one of those. No, John was good with words, he was excellent at science (all of them, but physics especially) and he was an absolute wizard with numbers. The red head envied the speed with which his big brother could do his maths homework like it was merely colour by numbers.

It was unfair that all of his brothers were academics, and had set a pretty good record for it at school, raising the bar high, high, high into the sky for him, but it was another thing for John to be a genius.

Virgil had been lucky to be a culmination of smart and creative coming after John, because it made him look somewhat extremely talented too – which Gordon would agree, his direct elder was a master with any medium of art, including the musical kind.

He on the other hand, was not so lucky. He was c**p with words, f***ed with science, and s**t with manipulating numbers. And it was good that he said none of that rant aloud for Dad would absolutely rip in apart for the language, and Scott might have a go to is he was hovering around. It wasn't language Gordon would normally use either even though everyone at school, especially in his year, were at the point where bad language like that was cool. No, Alan wasn't even the reason why he wouldn't use it. They'd always been a family with little need for it, but right now… right now whilst he was pulling his hair out (which, he'd have anyone know was one of his best features) over the bloody, damn nonsensical numbers before him, knowing he couldn't do anything else until his homework – which why did it have to include math! – was done, he didn't care. It was acceptable to use whatever language he so pleased. He'd been here, elbows on his desk and hands in his hair for hours, gritting his teeth and stabbing his pencil into the paper, but the answers were always wrong or the method never came to him- and long story short, he just couldn't do it.

He was so tempted to chuck his pencil across the room, but he'd already snapped one with his anger.

There was a knock at the door. Oh damn! He was tempted to just send whoever it was away.

"What?" He'd hoped his tone would be deterrent enough.

"Not a good time?"

"No."

Of all the brothers it could have been.

"Scott's watching the football. Virgil too."

"Goody for them."

"They wanted to know if you want to join. We're having ice cream."

"Lovely. Off you go."

John was silent for a moment.

"So, I'll take it that's a no then."

"Yes. Go."

But by the sound of it, John didn't 'go' in the direction Gordon had intended, for within moments of careful, quiet footsteps, his brother was stood beside him.

"Oh, you're multiplying polynominals."

"So that's what they're called."

He'd honestly forgotten.

John seemed to be looking between him and the paper, full of erased scribbles and large indents from his eventual anger.

"I thought you only had a couple bits of homework to do?"

"And I'm doing it."

"No, I just meant… well, usually you'd be done by now and joining us for ice cream."

"Well I'm not done so even if I want to I can't. House rule. You know that."

"I do." Gordon felt a little bad. He was being snappy and he knew it. And John didn't deserve that just because he was a genius and the younger wasn't. He decided he should probably keep his mouth shut so as not to do any more unnecessary snapping. "Right. I'll just uh, leave you to finish it then…"

"Yeah, off you go and have some ice cream on me."

He thought John might have actually gone. Scott didn't have the same level of stealth as the second son, so it would have been far easier to tell. But no, the elder's quiet nature had done Gordon no favours.

"Gordon, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Something is because you're snapping. And being sarcastic – you don't really want me to eat ice cream for you."

"No, I don't! I want to watch the football – not because I like football, but because you're all down there and you're eating ice cream and I'm stuck up here with poly what's it called."

"Polynominals."

"Yeah, yeah those."

John walked back over, standing beside him with no awareness to how annoyed his very presence was currently making the copper haired boy. It's not his fault, he reminded himself. He never asked to be born a genius.

"The answer to question one is 8x2-50x+63."

"How?" He finally, finally snapped, throwing his pencil – unintentionally – onto the floor – he'd been aiming for the desk. Damn. "How do you do that, in your head as well! That's not fair."

"Gordon, I learnt these years ago, y-"

"It's still not fair! I've been looking at these for an hour!"

"You should have as-"

"I hate numbers! Why can't we have mandatory swimming."

John… chuckled. And the first thing which came to mind was why? Honestly, Gordon was baffled.

I've just shouted at him, and he's laughing?

He knew John was good at staying calm, but this was almost crazy.

"If they did that, I really wouldn't be any good. You'd have the best grades."

"Yeah. I would."

"Here."

John held out his pencil to him, Gordon never having seen him moved to retrieve it. He took it with a quiet 'thanks'. He still wasn't quite sure how he should feel. His brother was jesting with him like the whole shouting match - or rather, at, since John's voice never rose, not even once – never happened.

"You need to multiply each number by the other numbers in the brackets and then you add and subtract accordingly."

"What?"

"The polynominals you- Sorry. I'll leave you to it."

"No, no, no!" John halted almost abruptly. Gordon realised he'd been shouting, again, and made a deliberate effort to lower his voice. "Can you… can you say again?"

The blonde nodded and made his way back over.

"Do four times two and four times nine, then do seven times two and seven times nine." He made an effort to scribble whilst the elder spoke, his hand moving faster than it did usually, even in class. "Remember if there's x's to times, you have to include them in the answer. So if you times two x's together you get x squared, like if you four times four."

"Ok, ok. Then?"

"Add or subtract it all, and rewrite it in it's final form without the brackets."

"Right, ok. Um… like that?"

John glanced over his shoulder once more, green eyes studying his messy scrawl, made harder to read by the past attempts strewn like ghosts over the paper.

"Yes, but it's plus sixty-three." He frowned, returning his gaze to the paper to look for the reason why. "You times two negatives."

"Oh yeah!" He quickly made the correction, rubbing furiously to get rid of the blasted additional line, hovering even still from al his previous endeavours. "Like that."

"Mmm hmm."

"Ok… oh, did you want to be watching the football."

John all but frowned at him. "I hate football. You know I only watch if Scott's playing. I've got a book waiting for me."

"Sorry to keep you."

"I like math, so it's ok."

He nodded, not really sure what else he should do. He never meant to (inadvertently) ask for John's help, although he couldn't deny he was glad to have it, but now his problem lay in how to keep it. Part of him knew asking would be ok and the other was still torn about whether he even wanted to. He was prideful, for all that he wasn't good at math. He didn't want to appear stupid, least of all to his genius brother. But then again, he didn't want to appear stupid to his class either. He'd unluckily ended up with the same maths teacher all his older brothers had had, so there was no luck there, but he intended to keep the rest fooled.

"Do you want to do the rest?"

"Rest..?"

"Of the questions. I can't do them all for you."

"No. Mrs R would probably know." He jested, trying to lighten the mood which seemed to have descended, and he was overly aware that such was his fault for having shouted.

"Probably." John agreed. "I think the handwriting would give it away."

Yes, because John was even gifted with being able to write nice and neatly, just like Virgil. At least Scott's writing was also abysmal, although maybe not quite so much as his.

"I was thinking more about the math."

"But you can do it."

"You told me what to do."

"So just repeat exactly that."

"But I can't even remember what I did, you- you were talking me through it."

"Gordon, does someone talk you through how to do… butterfly stroke?"

"Uh, no!"

"Exactly. And you do it fine."

"I'll have you know I do better than fine. But that's something I'm good at. I've done it for ages."

"But that's the point. Someone talked you through that when you first learnt, but you don't need that anymore. Same thing with math." He let his eyebrows raise of their own accord. John took an answer from that, as expected. "You'll get there."

"Yeah… No. Well, maybe, but not tonight I don't think, and I'd really like some ice cream."

"Me too." John smiled, and that was kind of infectious because Gordon found himself smiling too. "So, question two?"

The blonde reached out and pulled over Gordon's old bean bag. He preferred to sit on that than a chair after swimming. His brother dropped down beside him and reclined quite happily from what Gordon could see.

"I'll just sit here and wait until you need me."

And he did smile this time, of his own free will.

"Ok."

Part of him was very pleased that he hadn't had to ask: the other part was very aware that John had probably gathered he wanted-but-didn't-want to ask for help and thus had offered.

He had some very good brother's looking out for him, indeed. It just helped when they were a genius.

"Right, question two has stuff outside the brackets, what do I..?"

"Same thing, but only times everything in the brackets by the number outside."

"So, I'm doing five sevens, five fours, and five twos?"

"Yeah. And add in the x's."

"But that one's going to give four x's… Is that right, is that possible?"

"Yeah, just put a little four instead of a two."

"So… like that."

"Yeah."

"Ok, ok, I've got this."

"You do."

"Ice cream here we come!"

John chuckled again and Gordon felt a little better as he powered onto question three. There were fifteen of them, but with his genius brother at his side, he was sure he'd be ok getting through them.

He wasn't the best with numbers, but if the world flooded tomorrow, he'd be ok to stay afloat; and until such a time he could best the numerals, he had John to act as his raft.

[verystupidrpgideas]

Why Warlock is the Objectively Best Class - A Critique on Every Class in Dungeons and Dragons

I will be listing the reasons why every class is bad, what strong points it has, and why it is inferior to the Warlock class. 

Barbarian - The barbarian is a relatively simple class, and basically “Hit it until it dies”. There’s definitely some room for creative choices, but the class itself is rather bland unless you find magic items or you spec in a weird way.

Bard - The bard, along with the warlock, is one of the two classes that will destroy campaigns singlehandely at least once in your life. While the bard typically goes for the route of “talk your way out of everything”, the Warlock’s route is “criminal your way out of everything” which has many more options. You can kill the guy, frame him, rob him, etc. when in a sticky situation, while the bard is limited by his ability to talk. 

Cleric - Clerics serve gods rather than making deals with gods. Tell me, who gets the better end of that deal? The god that gives a few of his powers in exchange for downright servitude, or the god that offers powers in exchange for a simple contract telling the user to carry out the god’s will? Plus, when you think cleric, you think healing, whereas when you think warlock, you think badass evil wizard. ‘Nuff said. 

Druid - Treehugging know-it-alls can’t even hold a torch to the awe-inspiring power of the warlock. If you go a natural route as a druid with vines and trees, you’re weak to fire, one of the most common things in the DnD universe (what with wizards, sorcerers, and warlocks running amok). If you choose to be a furry instead, you have versatility, but there’s a reason tigers and such aren’t commonly seen today. Anyone with moderate combat training (which is almost as common as fire) and a good set of armor / weapons (common among adventurers) can beat up nearly any animal that a druid of similar level shapeshifts into. 

Fighter - The fighter is probably the most versatile class, with archetypes ranging from the sellsword to the spellsword. You can have a nimble, speedy fighter, or you can have a goliath fighter donned in a huge set of armor that just yeets any foes. You know what other class is versatile? The warlock. Yeah, you can beat me up, but what if I just open this portal and summon M̸̀͝Y̷̨͠͝͡ ̸̸̕P̸̧̧̢͢Ą͘Ţ͟R͠͞O̷͟Ń͘ ҉̧̡̨͠Ǵ̶̛͜O̸̢̢͟D̀̀͢͜͠ ̷̛Y̢͞͡͞O̶̵͢͠G͟͡'̶̵̨S̢͠͏͜O̸̢̧T̨̧͡H̀͢ƠT̶̢̨̛͡H̷͏̨ and just vaporize you instantly? You might ask “what about a warlock that isn’t that powerful?” Well, in that case, they can just cast Eldritch Blast every three seconds while running away because fighters need close range. If you’re fighting a fighter that uses ranged weapons, or a speedier fighter, just use your highest level spell slots and they’ll fall like twigs. The dexterity required to run circles around an opponent or fire a bow comes with an inverse correlation with protection. 

Monk - As if a warlock could ever lose to a monk. Monk is the dumbest D&D class, hands down. Like, seriously. You hear of evil bards looking to seduce everything in sight, druids corrupted by the demonic taint of the land they’re in, fighters that simply wish to earn a quick buck with your death, clerics and paladins tainted and corrupted by evil magic, bloodthirsty barbarians, crazy wizards and sorcerers, evil thieving rogues, and warlocks that wish to take over the world. But when’s the last time you’ve heard of a monk villain? That’s right, never. Let’s look at other media franchises with monk classes. Diablo 3 has monks, but they’re painfully terrible, using their fists at first level (and later levels in some builds). Compare that to the necromancer, who summons bones from the ground at first level, or the wizard, who shoots missiles of arcane. Want another example? Warcraft. The three “specs” (for those who don’t play Warcraft, this is basically the three unique playstyles of the class) are Brewmaster, a tank that uses beer to take hits, Windwalker, a class that uses the air sometimes I guess but mainly uses their fists, and the Mistweaver, which uses soothing mists to heal their friends. Yeah, even in a game like Warcraft, that makes no sense. You’re telling me that by drinking beer, I can survive hits from raid bosses like Ragnaros, ruler of the Plane of Fire? Yeah, chug down a few beers and jump into a volcano, tell me how that goes. The other specs aren’t much better. Windwalker uses fists and legs, rarely using weapons at all. I highly doubt that even as trained as you are that you’ll be able to kill someone as fast as a guy with a gun (such as the Hunter). Mistweaver makes about as much sense as Brewmaster. Are you telling me that if I spray someone with Febreze it’ll cure their wounds? “Ah, yeah, found how to cure my patient’s bronchitis. Let me just spritz their lungs a few times”. The warlock may use magic and stuff, but at least it makes sense with the rules of the DnD universe. The monks are the laughingstocks of all the base DnD races, and that’s for good reason. Screw monk. 

Paladin - Paladins are like fighter clerics. They worship gods, but have the same problems as clerics (with weaker spells) and don’t have the versatility of fighters. Honestly, paladins are kinda dumb, almost as dumb as monks. Seriously, who even designed that dumb class? It was in the game since THIRD EDITION. Meanwhile, the Warlock got into the game in 4e. Are you kidding? Wizards of the Coast, this baffles me. You can’t seriously believe that some shirtless guy with fists and discount Jesus deserves inclusion over a class who gets their power through a demonic pact. Honestly, if Monk is still in 6e whenever that comes out, I’m going to be very upset. The class has no redeeming features, yet despite having two chances to cut the dumb idiot out, the monk continues to stay in the  game. 

Ranger - The ranger was one of the five core classes in AD&D 1e, along with the fighter, thief, magic-user and... oh fuck this.

Rogue - Turns out, the Monk was in the game since first edition and my 3e source was wrong. This is the dumbest thing ever. The sorcerer wasn’t in the game yet, the barbarian wasn’t in the game yet, Druid was still a subclass of Cleric, there were only around seven races, and there wasn’t a warlock yet. Hell, in Dragon Magazine 53 a D&D fan named Philip Meyers argued that the Monk was the weakest class;

“Of all the character classes in the AD&D™ game, the class of monks is the most difficult to qualify for. A monk must have exceptional strength, wisdom, and dexterity, and — if he or she wishes to survive for very long — constitution. The odds of rolling up such a character, even using the various “cheating methods” listed in the Dungeon Masters Guide, are not favorable. Given this, one would expect a monk to be a powerful character indeed. At first glance this would appear to be true. The Grand Master of Flowers can reasonably claim to be the most powerful fighter around, able to inflict 128 points of damage in a single round. This superiority, however, is more theoretical than real. In actual practice, the monk is the weakest of the character classes, not the strongest.“ - Dragon Magazine #53

This is downright insulting. They gave the monk overpowered abilties (128 damage in a round!!!!) and still the class was absolutely terrible, just like it is now. When’s the last time you heard of a monk that bards told tales about? Of the five DnD 1e classes, which of the five is not one of the four main archetypes in popular culture? 

Sorcerer - Hell, why would the monks even have the abilities they had? Clerics make sense, they have faith healings which originate in the real world. Bards are a stretch, but the idea of a song inspiring someone isn’t anything new. But fucking MONKS lived in monasteries in medieval England, and that’s what they’re most known for. What would a realistic monk have the ability to do in D&D? The ability to copy things from a book quickly? Oh, wait, the Printing Press kinda fixed the need to do that. Good party trick, I suppose. The ability to form a self sufficient house with multiple members? Alright, but you’ll need a lot of money, a lot of other people, and slaves. Did I mention monks were slaveowners? And they pretend to be a good force of light or whatever. 

Wizard - Wizards learn with books, warlocks don’t need to learn, they have patrons. Guess what other class reads a lot? Monks. Except they don’t get the cool benefits of Wizards, they just get “closer to god” or whatever. Unfortunately for you, MONKS, the D&D world isn’t your monotheistic fantasy world of Jesus. There’s multiple gods, and they’ll kick your god’s ass in a fight. 

(Sidenote about that last paragraph, I’m making fun of monks in the D&D world, not real Christians, and I don’t intend to be hating anyone for their religious views)

So I hope all of you liked my writeup! Sorry it took so long, it was hard trying to find objective reasons for a lot of these (and I had to rewrite the Druid class a lot of the time to avoid calling them “vegan pieces of shit” which is a lot harder than it sounds). Anyway, choose Warlock the next time you make a new character.

[lollytea]

Make something.

"When life gives you lemons," is a fun phrase. It's go getter-y, endlessly optimistic. 

But the frustrating part is when you're TRYING to make lemonade but it can only drip drop drip out into a few blops of watery dribble. And its a moldy green. Lemonade is not supposed to look like that.

When life gives you good emotions, its self explanatory. Its useful. Gets shit done. But when you're being leeched from the inside with the bad feelings, you can't produce lemonade. You try but it's never good lemonade.

The only good use for being slumped is making something out of it. Like those writers did in your old school poetry book. Scraping the barrel so you can mass produce words into flowing and "thought provoking" prose, inspired by that concept of a tortured artist's angst. 

Its not like you're a tortured artist though. Not even close. You've always imagined their feelings as more....dynamic than yours.

You see the Great herself who somehow never struggles to find her vocabulary as she weaves the words together to describe what her turmoil is in a way that sways your insides like a cradle.

You see a man hunched with curled fingertips over a bleeding canvas. He's screaming for some unfathomable reason. Probably a part of his process. You really don't understand.

But you can't find those words like they can. You're not nearly as cinematic either. You don’t exist to be considered complex or to be fixed into artistic poses. You exist in order to walk the dog in the mornings, the cold air making you feel sick but only mildly so.

Your fat little face isn't wrung in any kind of angst right now. Its barely focused on the world at all, zonked out and gormless looking as usual, unresponsive to the way life blurs. The moderate amount of dizziness.Your brain is some kind of faulty digital camera. You can't capture anything that's not through a fuzzy lens.

It's quiet and it's anti-climactic and you can't word it in a way that sounds poetic. Because there's nothing poetic about it. It's not inspiration, it's a nuisance.

You can't make something out of this.

You like to think you don't feel anything. But that's not necessarily true. You're 70% numb but there are still those feelings that gnaw persistently until they break through the core and then you break apart.

You're anxious, that's usually what it is. It's an urgent kind of indecisiveness that hops between a crossroads, deciding whether or not you want isolation or to hear a friend say your name again. Its awful when you decide on both, becoming a floating head with a transparent disconnect.

You're no fun when you're like that.

You don't know to handle friends in a way that's both affectionate and indifferent. You can't risk getting upset if you get cut off. You've been left without warning before and you will be left without warning in future. You've decided you need to be mentally secure if that happens again. You need to be ready to convince yourself it wasn't that big a deal in the first place.

But even as batshit bizarre as you are, you know that's no way to live. You can't keep them fully at arm's length and you shouldn't and you WON'T. You need to love them for the sake of your own happiness. And theirs too. Because even in the indeterminate time they're in your life, they matter.

And you're anxious BECAUSE they matter.

You talk too much. You talk not enough. You can never figure out the right amount to talk and either way, it feels like you're doing it wrong. You like to let them do most of the talking but maybe that's not what you're meant to do either. Maybe that just sucks away at what little of a person you already are. You don't like to accidentally talk over anyone. It's never anything important you have to say.

You hope that you'll talk more when you're older. Or at least speak and not bother anyone.

You hope you'll have friends when you're older too.

But you own uncertainty just plays across as a riot inside your own head. It's messy. It's complicated. And it's so, so tired.

You can't make something out of that either.

You're bad at eating. Which is hilarious in its own right. One of the most basic tasks a human can possibly do in order to function and you're bad at it.

When you were a kid, being hungry was the worst way to feel. You couldn't cope with it. You would whine and whinge to be fed and then you were fed. And you would eat.

You ate too frequently, actually. In fact, you can't help thinking about what sixteen year old you would think of your current weight. She'd be ecstatic.

You probably wouldn't even have the patience to deal with her. You'd be too pissed that she was talking about your weight in the first place.

You'd tell her to shut up. It wasn't the way you wanted her to accomplish this. Because even if you reached it, you feel gross and guilty for what you do in your slumps. The idea that she'd be so happy about it makes your skin crawl.

Black Market Dieting.

The stomach groan lasts for days sometimes until it subsides when it realizes its plead is being ignored. You hate it. And you don't hate the way it feels, you hate that it's become an addicting way to feel.

And now you're afraid of weighing scales. You don't like that they know so much about you. You don't like hearing what they have to say. They're not alive, sure, but during this point in your life, no living person can give you worse news.

The eating problem is a stale situation, at best. It's not intense nor interesting nor can it be viewed from any alternative angles or metaphors. Because it's just a problem of yours. It's just uncomfortable to deal with on a day-to-day basis.

Can't make something out of that.

You use "Unlovable" a lot easier now. You say it in your head a lot. Which is a big development, considering that word used to scare you. You don't use it in an overtly anguished sense but in a resigned sort of way. Childishly bitter though. 

Its a thought that has set itself permanently into your subconscious. You don't slink away from it anymore. Though you're still beyond terrified, you sit still in it and accept.

You haven't decided on your final excuse just yet but by god, you have a plethora of them. What is it today, huh? Too sad? Too shy? Too boring? Too mean?

Sometimes it's that you're not smart enough or funny enough or SOMETHING enough. There's some kind of barrier and while you haven't pinpointed the exact flaw yet(maybe it's all of them.) something is certainly stopping you from trying.

You can't connect easily either. A fucking puzzle piece with some weird shaped grooves. Not a lot of people can attach themselves to it. You can barely make FRIENDS so how in the name of FUCK are you supposed to find-.....

And maybe, above all else, you're just afraid of them realizing their mistake. You hate being someone's mistake.

And of course, there's the obvious thing as to why you refuse to get anywhere in that regard. Another aspect in which you're "faulty."

You don't really like the word "Broken." It feels overdone. A little deviantart diary-esque for your own liking. Using faulty makes it sound like less of a problem. Like it's just a few glitches that won't cause any major inconveniences. 

Though you're not really sure if it's only just that.

You don't even know if you're proud of it like you try to pretend you are.

Like a bicycle with one training wheel. It's not necessarily a big problem to you. You can ride just fine on your own. It's them that aren't a big fan and would prefer if you were a little less wonky. Not that there's anything WRONG with you per say, they just can't imagine themselves with...you know.

And you understand. And you CAN do that. Obviously if you loved them, you would screw on the extra wheel for them. You'd try to fix whatever they wanted. You can adapt.

But what kind of delusional idiot goes around advertising a faulty bicycle that only CAN be repaired, if there's so many shiny, perfectly four wheeled bikes down the line.

They're not expected to screw the extra wheel in. It's already there and ready to go at a moment's notice. They can just as easily be purchased with zero of the hassle that comes with you.

So why bother exactly?

That's why you use Unlovable a lot now. Or at least why you're more accustomed to using it. You're all puberty-ed out so i guess you know some stuff for certain now. You've had a lot of time to think about it.

You're in a slump now. Another one. You forget when you got out of the last one and slipped into this one. You know there's a word for it but it's one you prefer not to use. At least when referring to yourself.

It's just slumps. Slumps are like being made of molasses. You do nothing, feel either too little or too much, drone like a librarian and the clock fingers whirl like pinwheels.

Sometimes you worry about slumps. What if they're not slumps at all. They happen too frequently that you could potentially call them your default state. Maybe the real "slumps" are the happier times in-between.

You don't do much of what you're good at when you're in slumps. Which is unfortunate considering you're only good at one thing.

And sometimes you're not good at what you're good at. Honestly, you don't know who decided you were good in the first place. It was probably you. You, saying you were going to be a writer and your family took your word for it that you were talented.

They always say you're good but you've never let them read anything of yours. It baffles you why they continue to say it. Support, you suppose.

But if you're really only good at what you're good at 1/8th of the time, can you really say you're good at all? It's such a small fraction of your time and energy. It can't be done most of the time. Sometimes, you just get lucky.

You can't even make something now. Despite the fact that you know you have to try.

But even with all that, you're still so much of an insufferable writer that there are some terms you refuse to say, even when writing closure vomit like this.

"I hate myself." Tired.

"Useless," Old.

"Worthless." No. No, that just doesn't work either. When you go yelling into the void, you're trying to not use the overused words. You want to acknowledge that you can at least see it from a logical standpoint instead of an old chicken scratch diary one.

You're obviously not above that but you're pretentious and like to believe you are.

You want to be taken seriously. Even when you're so obviously losing your mind, you want it to seem like your head is still on your shoulders.

You've incited multiple eye rolls already and you can live with that. It's what happens when you put an essay this long and this rambly on a public platform. An attention seeking post if you ever saw one.

But all you wanted was to write something. And during a time like this, its all you can write. All you can think about. Your objective is not to be told everything will be alright. If that was the case, you wouldn't be writing it all out to clear your head and fix it on your own.

It is solely to have your current headspace read, self dissected and understood and then it can all be ignored.

Like writing letters in paper airplanes. Throwing them to the wind and hoping someone out there hears you.

Because attempting to write about why you can't write is the most productive thing you can do in that scenario. You made some shitty lemonade but it's better than nothing.

And for the love of fucking God, let's hope that you will eventually make something.