#like have y'all read anything from his backstory at all?

[mysaldate]

Why Vil’s overblot matters and why the fandom was wrong

With chapter 5 coming to twst en, there will inevitably be people who completely misrepresent what the overblot is about (again) and people who will call Vil shallow and undeserving of compassion (again). So let me try and explain why Vil’s overblot matters so much more than a lot of the fandom gives it credit for, what makes it different from the other overblots thus far, and why the start of chapter 6 was such a massively harmful gut-punch.

Obviously, there will be Twisted Wonderland spoilers up ahead. Not only for chapters 5 and 6 but for overblots in general as well as the Halloween event. I won’t talk much about Idia’s overblot, or anything beyond the start of chapter 6 though since that chapter is very uncomfortable for me to talk about. If you want sources for any of what I’ll be saying here, feel free to send me an ask or a dm. I will not be linking them here because Tumblr hides posts with links from the search.

Let’s start with the obvious fact we’ve known since chapter 1: Overblots happen as a result of overwhelmingly negative emotions and a build-up of magical residue known as blot. They are often rooted in deep childhood trauma and shattering of one’s deeply-rooted beliefs about the world or people around them. Riddle’s trauma itself doesn’t push him to overblot, it’s when he realizes Trey has been lying to him the whole time. Leona doesn’t overblot because his plan to get attention didn’t work but because Lilia openly mocks him for his efforts. Azul’s memories of being bullied don’t cause him to overblot until he believes the twins have abandoned him and won’t help him out anymore. Jamil doesn’t overblot because his plan didn’t work but because he believes his true intentions have been broadcasted to the world and while trying to protect himself, he doomed his family.

Vil doesn’t have this in the typical sense. The people in his surroundings are largely supportive of him, albeit very creepily so in some cases. Through-out the chapter, he even manages to get Epel’s support and the two of them come to see eye to eye in a very lovely set of scenes. All seems to be improving for Vil the further into the chapter we go. So why the sudden overblot? Why didn’t Vil lean on the support that he had and which had been his obvious edge over all the other overblotees? Vil’s world shattered as well, but it wasn’t because of the people around him. What truly shattered was Vil’s belief about himself.

Up until the last minute, even though Vil’s blot is gradually building up, he manages to keep things under the wraps extremely well. He’s calm, metodical, optimistic even. It’s only after the trial runs of their songs that he really starts to doubt himself and his group, and it’s for a good reason. Vil and the NRC group have slaved away at this performance for a fairly long time. They have their own original song written out, they came up with their own choreography, and they tried their very hardest to polish their dancing as much as they could. And it wasn’t enough. After the first trial, Vil saw some success. He was finally coming out on top for the first time in his life – only to have it immediately snatched away. By a nursery rhyme remix no less. And from the comments the other characters gave, that’s not even the worst part. The dwarves couldn’t dance. Instead, they kept bumping into each other on stage and weren’t in sync at all. By all objective means, the performance was largely inferior to that of the NRC group, and yet they easily overtook their standing in the eyes of the public.

But don’t get me wrong, it’s not this that pushed Vil over the egde. What ended up ruining everything wasn’t even the fact that Vil got caught trying to poison Neige – at least not in the way you would expect. Unlike the other overblotees, Vil never, not once, defended his actions. This, in itself, is very unique. It wasn’t Riddle abusing his dorm “for their own good,” or Leona trying to kill and injuring dozens of people because he “deserves to be the best,” or Azul stripping a bunch of people of their talents, abilities, or even selves because he “needed that power more,” or even Jamil hypnotizing Kalim for “the dorm’s good and for freedom.” The moment Vil was stopped from the momentum and realized what he was doing, he owned up to it immediately – and that, ironically, is what doomed him.

For those of you who didn’t read chapter 5 yet or don’t remember the whole backstory anymore, let me walk you through it before I go on. Vil’s father is a famous actor. We know nothing about his mother but given his father would usually take him with to movie sets and all over the world when he traveled, we can assume she was probably not around much. Vil’s father, Eric Venue, was, for all we know, a wonderful dad. He was always supportive of his son and made sure the time spent together was cheerful and happy. It was him who made Vil want to become an actor as well. And Vil started, like many children, with school plays... where he would quickly fall into a routine that would follow him into the professional industry as well.

Vil would always get cast as the villain. Be it the protagonist’s rival or a cruel bully, his characters would always be evil in one way or another, and never get redemption or their own happy ending. Dreary already but once Vil joined the industry, this became so much worse. During a shooting when he was still in elementary school, he overheard two of the movie staff talking about him. They did praise his appearance (and to those who say being called a “beautiful child” is predatory or SA, please shut up) but they immediately followed it up by calling him “too perfect” and stating that he would never play a protagonist because nobody could relate to him. He would never get his happy ending because he was not who the audience wanted to see succeed. And in a way, they were right. Even off-screen, Vil would get bullied for what happened in the movies and tv series he played in, because it was easier for people to believe he was just as much of a scumbag in real life as he was on tv. Vil called this out, clearly showing he had more brains in elementary school than the average Twitter user has in their early 20′s, but that doesn’t mean it never affected him.

In fact, the exact opposite is true. It affected Vil so much that as soon as he had the luxury of choosing his roles, he would vehemently refuse any villainous role he was offered, even when they were extremely lucrative offers. He even went off at his agent when she signed him up for one such role without consulting him first. Vil also changed his last name and while the officially stated reason was so that nobody could account his success to his father, it more than likely was also to put his past behind him. Because he was better than that, because he was not a monster, because he was not a villain.

Except once. During VDC (and I refuse to call it SDC because twst en versions of names are poor at best), Vil did become the villain for a moment. He let his own goals and desperate wishes get the better of him and was ready to seriously harm an innocent person to get his way. And yes, Neige is an innocent party in all of this because although his performance was poor and kind of pathetic when compared to Vil’s, it was not his fault that he was put on a pedestal. And Vil knows that too. So when he was snapped out of the moment and he realized what he was about to do, he crumbled.

Now let’s talk a bit about coping mechanisms and trauma responses. There’s no doubt that Vil is traumatized. Not in the same way as many of the other overblotees, and his trauma manifests differently as well, but overall, Vil didn’t overblot because of the trauma but because of his response to it. Vil lashed out against the trigger of his trauma, and acted in an objectively incorrect way. That isn’t unusual with many trauma victims. More often than not, victims of physical abuse begin to strike back at their abusers, victims of mental abuse have a hightened risk of becoming abusive themselves (not saying all of them do, put the pitchforks away, they just have a hightened risk of it), and so on and so forth. Vil’s response, though inappropriate, is still understandable. His response is human. All the more hurtful it is that he felt as though this response meant he was just as bad as all his evil roles painted him out to be. THAT was the real breaking point of Vil’s overblot. What shattered wasn’t his view of others, it was his view of himself.

Even with his overblot starting to set in, Vil’s first instinct was to plead with the people around to not look at him, to not watch as he becomes something ugly, something he never ever wanted to become. His pleads went ignored, and even purposely disregarded in one case and it only pushed him further in. This is just speculation, but I firmly believe Vil would’ve been able to pull himself together, did his wishes go followed and had people given him the time to calm down. Instead of, you know, going on and on about how what he did was so terrible and how you were there to see it and would purposely look as he turned into that ugly thing he absolutely hated. But that’s going off the topic a bit.

Personally, I have a lot of gripe with how the chapter ended. But it got even worse when chapter 6 tried to address this. At the start of chapter 6, the rest of the NRC group tries to confront Rook about his final vote. And full disclaimer, he is free to vote for whoever he wants, that is not the issue here at all. What IS the issue is Rook defending his vote by saying it was all Vil’s fault for not being beautiful enough, in regards to his overblot. It is Vil’s fault that he lashed out after years of continous trauma, and Rook is actually the good guy here for putting him in his place, never to be seen as a hero, never to be seen as someone deserving of praise, because of one trauma response that was less than desirable. There was no need to say that and yet, he did. Just like on numerous other occasions where he purposely puts Vil down for no reason. But that is material enough for another post like this. The take-away from chapter 5 and the start of chapter 6 somehow stopped being “when you break down, your friends will help you overcome it” but it instead became “if your trauma response is not morally unambigously correct, you do not deserve fair judgment” and that bothers me.

Chapter 6 then proceeds to completely skip any character development Vil went through and instead just hits us with “Yeah he’s fine and made peace with his share now” with no build-up so that’s not even worth talking about. But Vil’s overblot is a total stand-out among all the others and I wish more people actually paid attention to it rather than disregarding it as “first-world problems of a spoiled movie star” when there’s so much more to it than that.

I could go on for a while, talking about how dehumanizing Vil’s experience in the movie industry has been (not the world of child actors irl but just his personal experience) or how the society put Neige on a pedestal because he was born poor and how he’s always had support of his community unlike Vil, but we would be here for far too long if I did. So I leave you with this, I hope you enjoyed the read, and I’ll be back some other time with another long ranty brainrot analysis.

[mssainz]

PART 4 | AFTER FIVE YEARS

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Reader

Summary: Carlos Sainz finally met his son he had with her ex-wife, Y/N.

Warning: Angsty

AN: A little backstory about YN , a flashback from five years ago. Thank you guys. I appreciate all your comments. Let me know your reaction and if you wanna be added to the tag list. Love y'all!

It's done. You are now divorced. You are no longer Mrs. Sainz. You are sitting on the bed feeling empty, looking at the bedroom floor.

So what now?

You grabbed your phone on your side table and dialed your Mom's number. It took a few rings before your Mom picked it up.

“Mom, I'm going home.” Your mom didn’t say anything and hope you have a safe flight.

You didn’t wait for a second and immediately grabbed your luggage. You gently fold all your clothes and stuff them into your bag. You then went to the bathroom to grab your skin care products and other toiletries. After making sure that all your things are complete, you zipped and sealed your luggages. You saw the gold commitment in your ring finger and a shiny diamond one you got when you said yes.

“You two are way more expensive than filing a divorce,” You whispered and scoffed at yourself. You removed your necklace, then your rings, and made them as a pedant.

“Maybe, I can take you to an auction. Engagement and wedding ring from Carlos Sainz.” You let out a painful laugh before putting the necklace in your bag. Your finger feels strange without them, after wearing them for almost three years.

You put on the most casual outfit you can grab, a black trousers, white shirt, and a black cap. You also put on a face mask to hide your face. You don’t want any paparazzi following you at the airport. You just want to leave in peace and make a simple statement of your break up. Being questioned about what happened and explaining everything is the least thing that you wanna do. It feels like squeezing lime on your opened cut.

You arrived at the airport earlier than your scheduled flight. Gladly, there are only a few people in the vicinity. You sat down in the waiting area and unlocked your phone. You deleted Carlos' phone number and even blocked him in all of your social media accounts. Painful for you but you also deleted any contacts of his family, his father, mother, and even his siblings. You also unfollowed anything related to Formula 1. But you didn’t unfollow some of the drivers that you are close with.

After almost a day flight, you finally arrived. It feels great to be back in your home country. Your mom fetched you at the airport. She initiated some small talks on your way home but didn’t dare to mention anything about your divorce. She wants you, yourself to open up about it if you are comfortable to talk about the whole situation.

You proceed to your old room after getting out of the car. You and your mom brought your luggages in your room and began unpacking them. You opened your closet and saw your white coat hanging. It has your name with MD on it. “Emergency Medicine,” you whispered as you read what's on your coat. Warm tears started falling from your eyes.

“What did I do wrong, Mom? I gave up my career for him. I let this go to be with him. I chose another path of my life and tried to settle down, followed him to the other side of the world. How could he do this to me?” Your mom looked at you and stopped unpacking your bags. She is disheartened, staring at you sitting on the floor, hugging your knees. It is her first time seeing you cry and break down after everything that happened. She is actually worried about you as you didn’t show any tears when Carlos filed the divorcement papers, when you found out about your baby, and after everything. It’s like your emotions shut down. You were just filled with mixed feelings and couldn’t even process it as everything happened so fast.

She walks towards you and sits beside you. She didn't say anything, she knows that words are not what you need right now. You need ears, who can listen to you.

“I hate myself, Mom. I let myself be fooled by a man and I'm now fucking pregnant with his child. He doesn't even know, I'm having his own blood and genes. And I don't even know where to start with my life again. I have nothing left, Mom. I am such a mess,”

She can feel how broken you are. She hates seeing you cry and hate yourself for something you are not the one to blame.

“I sold all my properties in Madrid, even the coffee shop Mom. I can't go back there. I can't be in his hometown. I can't even bear the thought of breathing the same air he breathes. I can't Mom, I don't wanna.” Your voice is broken and so you are. Your words are nearly inaudible and your face is filled with glistening tears which can't seem to stop pouring. Your sorrow left you having difficulty catching your breath.

“He knows how cheating and lying was my last straw. He always knew that. He knows about Dad, what he did and how he left us, Mom. Why did he have to repeat the same history as he did? Why do I have to go through this again? Why do I keep catching men in my life kissing another woman? How can they put me in this position?” You are on the verge of hyperventilating from crying. Hence, your mom gently held your arms and made you face her eyes.

“Baby, look at me. Breathe, my love,” She started exhaling and inhaling with you to calm your nerves down and control the pace of your breathing.

“Mom, I don't know what to do. What should I do?” You asked her while she was wiping the tears on your cheeks.

“You don't have to do anything, my love. You don't need to know what you should do at the very moment. I just want you to take care of yourself. Just have a meal, take a shower, and rest. Mommy got you, okay? I always do.”

She pulled you into her arms to give you a safe space to cry. Her words gave you an inner peace, a reminder to take it slow. You don't need to know what the future holds for now.

“And stop saying you have nothing left. You have me, honey. You have this,” your mom said before putting her warm hand on your belly.

I have Cael. When I thought I had nothing left, I had him. He is the only one I can call my own.

YN'S Private Instagram Post

"my sunshine Sebastian Cael Sainz"

TAGLIST:

@seasonswinter @charizznorizz @itsjustkhaos @celesteablack @openthenyoor01 @carlossainzbelongswithme @timmychalametsstuff @viennakarma @charlottef1 @i-love-ptv @evie-119 @somepeoplemaybe @amberpanda99 @gotthatname @karlossainz @wonderfulkawaii @khaylin27 @hc-dutch @avengers-assemble123456 @likedbygaslyy @xoscar03 @yukiotadako @barcelonaloverf1life @bearryyy @mahii7 @mxdi0 @heyheyheyggg @sunny44 @casperlikej @ironmaiden1313 @biitch-with-wifi @elia-the-bibliophile @nataliazzzz @bernelflo @madkohi @lillunna @loloekie @jinimon-tr @glai1023-blog @not-nyasa @jolixtreesunn @changetyre @thatsusbitch @distancedss @miarabanana @iawfwm @f1fanatic55 @taniamndez @voidsfics @jasminesacademia @ahahvalerie @a-beaverhausen @glow-ish @ccallistata

AN: Should YN put the necklace in an auction? Just kidding. Please unhide your accounts guys, I can't tag you if its hidden huhu. Thank youuuu!

next part

[daddy-dins-girl]

First Date: Frankie Morales

HAPPY FRANKIE FRIDAY Y'ALL!

Masterlist

AO3 link

Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Summary: Based on this tumblr Ask. A full one-shot based on a quick little headcanon drabble I wrote about what a first date with Frankie Morales might look like. There's a little of backstory for Reader because it's me and you know I just can't help myself.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Fluff and smut (because we like to strike a delicate balance here). Porn with a sprinkle of plot (again, delicate balance). Cuteness overload during your date with Frankie (sign me up for this date please). Heavy makeout session. Mutual masturbation. Fooling around in the back of Frankie's truck because of uh... reasons. Read to find out! I think that's it for warnings. As far as my stuff goes I'd say this is pretty tame? lol. But if I missed anything lmk!

Notes: I hope there aren't any glaring mistakes here. If I find any I'll come back and edit. Tbh I wrote 99% of it on my phone because our wifi was down for THREE DAYS here (RIP me!). It finally came back this morning just in time for me to post this for Frankie Friday ❤️

You tap your phone’s screen to illuminate it and check the time for probably the fifteenth time in as many minutes to make sure you’re not running late yet as you stand over the bathroom counter putting the final touches on your appearance, wanting to look perfect for tonight. Nerves flutter in your tummy like butterflies and you have to constantly remind yourself to calm down, take it easy.

“It’s just Fish, nothing to get yourself all worked up about” Benny had offered earlier, unhelpfully.

Sure, to your cousins Benny and Will it was just their longtime friend and military buddy, but to you it was the very cute, though very shy, sweet guy that you had met for the first time only recently since you came to “temporarily” crash at your cousins place.

Temporarily had turned into three months far faster than you anticipated. You needed a fresh start, to get out of a not great situation and it was actually your Aunt who had suggested the move to you during your phone call to her on her birthday. Your mother had already been filling her ear with your personal drama it seemed and though she didn’t want to pry, she did want to help and she suggested getting away for even a couple of weeks, that her sons had lots of room at their place and would be happy to have you for a while. After a few phone calls with both Will and Benny they had settled any doubts you might’ve had and welcomed you with open arms when you showed up at their doorstep with little more than a single roller suitcase and a small potted plant under your arm. It was about all the possessions you had left after the less than amicable split with your ex that left you couch surfing at your friends for months before the transition to Will and Benny’s.

So now here you stand, in the bathroom of the guest bedroom you have been calling your own for three months, getting ready for a date with the painstakingly handsome pilot himself, Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales.

You know how badly your cousins have been teasing you about the date, you can’t even begin to imagine the ribbing Frankie must have been taking from them since he’d asked you out last Sunday at a barbecue Will and Benny had been hosting and they’d somehow gotten wind of it. You’re surprised Frankie even kept the date, to be honest. Your cousins, you love them with all your heart, but they can be… a lot. You’re very glad Frankie didn’t back down to the pressure though. You’d seen him a fair bit in your few months here and have been dying for him to finally ask you out. You’d flirted enough and though he’d been quiet and shy in the beginning, the more you got to know each other, the more he seemed to come out of his shell around you.

So now here you were, moments before Frankie was due to show up at your door and you silently cursed yourself for not being as ready as you should be. You wanted to be ready and standing outside by now so that Will and Benny couldn’t get any more jabs in to poor sweet Frankie if he had to stand at the door waiting for you, but as you pull on the short, light denim jacket over your sundress you hear a bark of laughter from Benny and already you know you’re too late.

You quickly press some lip gloss on, run your hands through your hair to make sure it’s falling exactly how you want it to and then take a deep breath in the mirror and quickly scurry out of the bedroom to hopefully save the man that is standing outside on the porch.

“No keeping her out past curfew, no drinkin’ and drivin’, no crazy parties or gettin’ too handsy on the first date”

Benny is listing things off on his fingers to poor Frankie like he’s your father scalding your prom date and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Will, you said you’d both be nice” you complain out loud to the older of the two brothers. Will wasn’t much better, but sometimes talking to Benny was like talking to a toddler amped up on a pack of Skittles, there was no getting through when he got over excited about something.

The most ridiculous part about it was that you and Benny were about the same age so it was a little comical, though sweet in his own way, how he tried to ‘big brother’ you.

“Ah c’mon Ace, we were just joshin’ him a bit” Will replies, bright white smile gleaming at you with a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

Ace of course being the nickname they had stuck you with since you were old enough to remember. Any family event you’d ever attended whenever there was any sort of game or sport going on the two boys always ensured you were on their team, likely because you were the only one close in age to them but you liked to tell yourself that it was also because the three of you always had fun together. They have always been so competitive and any time they won (largely due to their own efforts) they were sure to tell everyone that it was all because of you, that you were ‘the ace up their sleeve’ even when you barely did anything. Hell most softball games you preferred to sit in the grass picking flowers while they ran circles around you like pro athletes, but it was sweet how they always made sure to include you and make you feel good about yourself.

“Well we agreed you two goons wouldn’t scare him away” you remind them with a playful roll of your eyes and a swat to Benny’s shoulder when you finally reach the doorway.

You can see Frankie’s appreciative gaze roam over you from head to toe and as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and nervously adjusts his ball cap you know he’s itching to say something to you but probably weighing the pros and cons in his head about the two extra sets of ears hearing what’s meant only for you and so you decide for him. You shove past your two cousins, quickly tell them you love them and not to wait up and push them far enough back in the house so you can slam the door shut, finally leaving you on the porch with just Frankie.

“Hi” you breathe out, a smile spreading across your lips. He looks casual but deliciously handsome in a pair of dark tan khaki pants and an untucked light blue button down with the sleeves rolled up, putting his tanned and muscular forearms on display. He still has his infamous Standard Oil hat on, hints of chocolate brown curls peeking out from underneath it. You don’t think you’ve actually ever seen him without it, come to think of it. You try to picture him without it and an image just doesn’t come.

“You look beautiful” he tells you, a hint of shyness in his tone and a blush rises in your cheeks that didn’t come from a makeup stick.

“Thank you. I’m sorry about tweedle-dee and tweedle-A-D-D in there” you joke, gesturing a thumb over your shoulder at your two cousins who are currently fighting each other over who gets to look through the small pane of glass next to the door to watch your interactions with Frankie on the front step.

“Unfortunately I’m very used to it” he quips, giving you a warm smile. “Shall we?” He asks, sweeping an arm out towards his truck idling at the curb and you nod your head and lead the way.

Before you reach the truck however Frankie jogs up behind you to brush past and ensures he reaches the passenger door handle before you do and opens it wide, offering you a hand to help you up and inside. You both decide to ignore the whooping yells and hands slamming on the glass next to the door at the top of the walkway behind you.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, shall we?” You offer once Frankie’s climbed into the driver's seat next to you and he chuckles but nods his head.

“With pleasure” he agrees and pulls the truck away from the curb.

You’re driving for nearly an hour. Frankie had apologized already on several occasions, admonishing himself for not preparing you beforehand to make sure you wouldn’t be too hungry when he picked you up. You tell him it's fine countless times but he still admits he should’ve discussed his plan with you ahead of time.

“Hey, if what you say is true and these really are the best tacos I’ve ever had, you’ll not only be forgiven but I’ll be glad I was ravenous by the time we get there” you tell him and finally he seems to accept it and offers you a small smile, hand going to the dial on the radio to turn the classic rock tunes up just a little bit for the last few minutes of your drive.

The drive is nice. The ocean follows along in your journey when you look out your window and the way the sun sits in the sky you know it’ll be threatening to set not long after you arrive at your destination. Truth be told you were a little nervous when you first started driving and Frankie mentioned how long the trip would be. You worried that you wouldn’t have much to chat about or that it might get awkward but it had been anything but. Besides Frankie’s little bouts of anxiety about whether or not he should’ve mentioned to you what time you’d actually be eating, everything was going better than you had expected. The conversation seemed to flow easily between the two of you. You had enough jumping off points, with both of you having more than your fair share of stories or anecdotes about Will and Benny. You shared stories of your youths while Frankie caught you up on some of the more recent goings-on with them that you hadn’t been privy to since, before recently, you obviously spent a lot less time with them in your adult years versus the childhood ones. Before long the conversations shifted more to yourselves and your own personal lives and before you knew it Frankie was pulling the truck into a crowded parking lot in front of the beach.

You make your way through the throngs of people on the boardwalk, Frankie’s warm hand on your lower back a steadying presence as he guides you through the crowds towards the brightly painted green and yellow food truck off in the not-too-far distance. Your mouth is watering already and you’re not sure whether it’s for the tacos or the man on your left with the broad shoulders and thick arms but a gentle, calming touch.

If you had to venture a guess, it would be for the latter.

Frankie, to his credit, was absolutely right about the tacos. You’re halfway through your third one when you finally tap out and call it quits, unable to possibly stomach another bite - despite how delicious they are.

“I can’t. I want to, but I can’t” you admit defeat to what’s left of your dinner, tossing your napkin on top of your paper plate and holding your hands up in surrender and the corner of Frankie’s mouth curls up into a smirk.

“They’re good right?” He grins at you from across the picnic table while he stuffs the last bite of his own into his mouth and you roll your eyes dramatically at how good in fact they were.

“They were amazing, seriously. Well worth the drive and the wait” you tell him sincerely and then before you can talk yourself out of it you reach across the table to place your hand on top of his and give a little squeeze with your fingers.

“Thank you for dinner. I’m um… really glad you asked me out tonight”

That confession earns you an ear to ear grin from Frankie who swallows down the last bit of his dinner and then turns his hand palm-up so he can hold your fingers in his grasp.

“Me too. But, the night’s not over” he offers with a playful quirk of his eyebrow.

“There’s more?” Your brow line lifts to your forehead. “I’m going to need a few minutes to digest first” you laugh, placing a hand over your stomach and Frankie chuckles but nods his head in agreement.

“Take all the time you need,” he tells you.

The sun is beginning its descent from the sky as you sit at the table a while longer, happily chatting about everything and nothing. You ask Frankie more about his young daughter and can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips the way his face lights up when he speaks about her or shows you his favourite pictures or videos of her on his phone.

With your food finally settled you’re back to wandering the boardwalk again with Frankie leading the way. He stops you at an ice cream truck and you groan at the idea of having to shove more food into your stomach but the childish grin and teasing nudge to your side with his elbow convinces you to take him up on his offer anyway and you ask for small scoop of the bright orange Tiger Stripe flavour in a dish while Frankie opts for a waffle cone of classic Mint Chocolate Chip.

With no small effort you manage to finish the sweet dessert and toss your garbage into a nearby receptacle and Frankie nudges your shoulder with his and gestures with an outstretched arm towards the beach.

“Wanna go walk it off?” He suggests and you give him an easy smile, more than excited about taking a romantic walk down the beach at sunset with him.

The warm sand squishes between your toes as you walk the length of the beach. Frankie had insisted on carrying your shoes for you when you opted to take them off; the strappy sandals hanging from the fingertips of his right hand while his left brushes experimentally against the back of your right and you turn your palm towards him and he wastes no time taking hold, your fingers interlacing. You smile and press a little closer into his shoulder.

“This is perfect” you sigh as soft waves lap at your feet and the sun bids it’s final adieu for the evening, disappearing just past the horizon on the other side of the ocean.

“So I did good?” Frankie smirks at you and you let out a little laugh, nodding your head.

“Ten out of ten would recommend” you answer without hesitation.

“Recommend to who? If you think I’m taking Benny on a date next you’re poorly mistaken” he jokes and it earns an outburst of laughter from you as you grab onto his forearm with your free hand and lean further in still.

“You guys could make a pretty cute couple” you tease and he rolls his eyes, shaking his head in laughter.

“Already got the prettiest Miller on my arm, thank you very much” he affirms and your giggles die down as the blush re-emerges and you turn your gaze down to the sand at your feet and squeeze his arm just a little tighter as a thank you to his easy compliment.

You walk a little while longer, your fingers still entwined and your free hand wrapped around his arm that’s holding your hand, snuggling as close as possible while you continue to chat and joke and tease each other.

Being with Frankie seems so easy. Normally you were so nervous during first dates and it’s been so long since you’ve actually been on one you could barely remember what it normally feels like but you’re certain it’s never felt like this. You felt comfortable. And maybe a lot of that had to do with the fact that you’ve already met with and hung out with him on numerous occasions now there was less to be nervous about. But you think it’s mostly him. He’s so easy going and calm to be around; he just puts you at ease with one upward curve of his lips or the way his soft brown gaze seemingly bores into your very soul with a single look.

Besides that, you knew he must be a pretty decent guy or Will and Benny would’ve had something (aside from friendly teasing) to say about it. They were the big brothers you never had growing up, always looking out for you until your lives took you all down very separate paths and if they trusted Frankie with you, you knew you were in good hands.

Hands that were currently, mind you, smoothing up and down your sides as Frankie pressed you into the passenger door of his pickup as you stood on the street outside your temporary home saying your goodnights.

“Kiss me” you breathe into the limited space between your two bodies that are thrumming with unspent energy.

Not bothering with a verbal response, Frankie closes the distance between you, his lips capturing yours finally for that first kiss you’ve been craving since he picked you up hours ago. He tastes like mint and chocolate, and although normally it would be one of the last options you go for at the ice cream shop, the way it tastes on Frankie’s tongue instantly makes it your new favourite.

The energy in the cab of his truck the whole ride back had been tangible, his right hand on your thigh, yours trying not to dig into the plush material of the seats as you tried to focus your mind on anything other than ordering him to pull the truck into park so you could crawl into his lap and thank him properly, the way you wanted to so badly.

“Hermosa,” Frankie groans, his mouth trailing now from your lips down your jaw and to the side of your throat as his hands grip your hips. The scruff of his beard brushes the delicate skin of your neck when he nuzzles further into you and heat instantly pools in the lower part of your belly, causing a little moan to slip out. You feel your breath quicken, heart rate speeding up to keep pace with Frankie’s that you can feel through your clothes with how closely he’s pressed against you. Your arms raise to wrap around his neck, hands playing with the soft curls at the back of his head, running your fingers through them (something you’d been dying to do since the first time you met him, if you’re being honest with yourself).

“Should’ve taken me back to yours” you whisper against his ear as he continues to nip, lick and kiss at your throat.

“Santi’s on my goddamn couch” he groans, annoyed.

You remembered, now that he’s said it. Santiago, another military buddy of your cousins that you’d met a few times and one of Frankie’s best friends, had been having problems with his girlfriend and a week ago she had actually kicked him out of their shared apartment and with you taking up residence in Will and Benny’s guest room, that left Frankie’s couch.

“Shit” you mutter. You don’t dare take him inside to your room. Though the house looks dark and the boys are probably asleep, that’s not something you’re going to chance. At least not on a first date. You don’t need their judgment, nor do you need Frankie holding anything back from you due to the unfortunate circumstances.

His mouth is back on yours, unable to stay away from it for long it seems. His tongue pushes inside and strokes alongside yours, causing a little shiver to run down your spine. He licks into your mouth, exploring every cavern and swallowing all your little whimpers and whines. Frankie was an amazing kisser. You can’t help but wonder how talented his tongue may be elsewhere; the thought alone sending a fresh wave of arousal through you and causing another moan to slip out which Frankie responds to with one of his own. His right hand leaves your hip and goes to your thigh next, gently raising your leg off the ground to wrap around him and a gasp escapes you when his hand slips under the hem of your dress and trails upwards towards your hip.

“Fuck, Frankie” you breathe, pulling back just enough so you can start peppering kisses to his strong jawline.

“Tell me to stop, fuck, you need to tell me stop” Frankie pleads. You can feel his obvious desire for you pressed into your stomach as his left hand moves down to grope your ass and pull you even closer against him.

“Mmm, don’t want to” you hum into his throat and he groans in desperation, rocking his hips into you and causing a delicious bit of friction where you need it most. Your whole body is tingling, feeling like you could combust at any moment. Your muscles are tense, hands fighting for purchase on any part of him they can grab onto, eager to keep him from convincing himself to pull away from you.

Just when you feel him begin to pull back you do the only thing that comes to mind and turn in his grasp and reach for the back passenger door of the crew cab, swinging it open and pulling him back towards you by the collar of his shirt.

“Fuck, Sweetheart” he stops dead in his tracks, feet outside on the ground still while your ass hits the back seat so you’re seated sideways on the seat, facing him.

“Look, I might not be up for Gentleman of the Year Award or anything, but I’m not… I can’t have our first time be in the back of my truck. You deserve so much better than that”

Your brain doesn’t miss how he says ‘first time’ like it implies that there will be more times, and god you hope there is. And while you don’t disagree with him that fucking in his car like teenagers isn’t maybe the most romantic way to do this, you still need something and you don’t want this night to be over yet.

“Just… come fool around with me a little bit” you shrug, coy little grin tugging at the corners of your lips and you see on his adorable face the moment his resolve crumbles. He’s hopping up into the truck in a flash, slamming the door shut behind him. He pushes you back onto the bench seat so you’re flat on your back and finally rips his hat off his head and tosses it carelessly somewhere to the floor and you’re in a fit of giggles at the playfulness of it all. The laughter dies on your lips however when he’s kneeled before your spread legs and drags your knees up to his hips and presses himself down on top of you, capturing your mouth in a heated kiss while his lower half grinds into yours.

“Is this OK?” He murmurs into the side of your face as his kisses trail towards your throat.

“Mmm hmm” you nod frantically. “More than OK” you promise.

He hums into your throat and brings his right hand to your breast, his large hand covering the mound and gently massaging the soft flesh, kneading and squeezing just right as your little moans and the way your back arches to push your chest further into his touch encourages him.

“Fuck,” he growls before shoving the front of your dress and cups of your bra down so he can get his mouth on bare skin.

He pulls away from your throat and shuffles down slightly, leaning down to swirl the tip of his tongue around the pert bud and then gently pull it into his mouth. He alternates between sucking it into his mouth and teasing with quick flicks of his tongue while nimble fingers pay the other equal attention and you writhe underneath him, grinding into his leg, desperate for any friction you can create.

“Perfect tits” he mumbles into your skin before his mouth switches sides. Your hands are in his hair, gently tugging and scratching over his scalp and the way he occasionally groans and grunts at your actions you know he likes it. You wish you weren’t shoved inside the back of his pickup right now. Oh the things you would let his mouth do to you if you weren’t…

After long minutes of attention spent on your breasts his mouth is finally back on yours. He moans into you when his tongue wraps around yours again and you decide to play a little dirty yourself and wrap your lips around his tongue and suck it into your mouth, just for a moment and then you release. You feel his hardened cock twitch against your hip when he grinds it into you.

“Tell me what you want, Baby” he asks between ragged breaths as his lips create a hot trail of open mouthed kisses down to your collarbone.

You decide to show him, rather than tell him, and reach for his right hand and bring it underneath your dress to the aching need between your thighs and he practically growls into your throat when he feels the damp spot that’s already formed on your panties.

“Oh my god” he groans, taking his first two fingers and rubbing your lower lips over the soft, soaked lace.

“Oh fuck, Frankie, you feel so good” you whine, not caring how wrecked you sound already.

His mouth covers yours again, his kiss hungry and needy as his fingers bravely dip under the waistline of your panties to finally touch your naked sex and push through the warm slick folds.

“Oh my god, make me come baby, please. Fuck.” You beg, your hands wrapping around his neck again and grabbing on for dear life. It’s been far too long and Frankie is quickly unraveling you into a mewling desperate mess.

“I’ve got you, Hermosa” Frankie promises, his breath hot against your ear now and you don’t doubt that he does. His skilled digits are already driving you crazy and he’s barely begun. Maybe it’s because it’s been a while, or maybe Frankie just really knows his way around a pussy.

He plunges two fingers inside of you and you cry out at the welcomed intrusion, whimpering into his shoulder at how he’s nearly got you undone already.

“God you feel fucking amazing” he groans into your heated flesh.

“Fuck Frankie, don’t stop, please” you whimper.

He doesn’t. His fingers continue their torturous assault, pumping in and out of you and occasionally coming out to rub tight little circles around your small bundle of nerves that causes your arm to shoot up in the air, palm of your hand pushing hard against the ceiling of the truck cab as your impending orgasm lingers threateningly.

“Let me touch you, please” you beg and Frankie growls in response before his free hand goes to his pants and nearly rips them open so he can push them down to his thighs and your hand immediately wraps around his throbbing length.

“Holy shit” you breathe. Your fingers failing to quite reach all the way around his impressive girth. He’s warm and heavy in your hand, precum steadily leaking from the head that you gather in your hand to use to coat down the rest of his length.

“Christ” Frankie grunts, unable to stop himself from thrusting his hips once to fuck into your hand. “Shit I’m sorry it’s um, been a while” he confesses shyly and you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“For me too” you tell him, easing his nerves. “God Frankie, I’m so close”

With that he pulls his hand away from you for only a moment, bringing it to his mouth to wet his fingers with his tongue and then they’re back on your clit, experimenting between rubbing and circling and pressing and even lightly pinching until he finds out exactly what makes you squirm under him and he doubles his efforts, working you faster and faster with the pads of his fingertips until you’re coming hard and fast with his name on your lips as you rock into his hand to chase the pressure of his touch.

“Oh fuck, that’s it” Frankie groans into the hollow of your throat, his fingers sticky and slick with your release. “God you’re so beautiful” he praises, pressing kisses to every inch of flesh he can reach.

His fingers continue to languidly stroke through your folds, easing you down from your high while his own breathing picks up at your continued actions below; practiced strokes of your hand wrapped around him while your thumb occasionally ghosts over his slit, gathering the evidence of his arousal and smearing it all over the thick and sensitive head.

“Fuck, I’m close” he warns, eyes screwed shut in concentration, his forehead now resting against yours. “Fuck!” He curses again and then quickly sits up on his knees, causing your hand to fall away from him and he takes himself in hand to finish himself off, not wanting to make a mess all over you or your pretty dress. Not having much option he yanks his shirt up instead and coats his own stomach with white hot ropes of his release until he’s left heaving and panting on his knees before you, free hand clutched tight on your knee beside him, fingers digging in deep enough you think they’ll leave bruises.

You’ll wear them like a badge of honor.

“Shit,” he breathes and then huffs out a little laugh. His eyes dart around for a moment and then he reaches into the little pocket on the back of the front passengers seat and pulls out a somewhat squished little pack of wet wipes (one of the conveniences of having a small child you presume, always lots of supplies around that adults might not otherwise think of keeping handy) and grabs a couple sheets and wipes up the mess he made of himself before shoving the wipes back into the pocket. You’re staring up at him, tip of your pointer finger between your teeth and a coy grin playing on your lips.

That was by far the absolute hottest make out session you’d ever had. Where has Frankie Morales been all your life, and what had you done to deserve him now?

“Are you still OK? That was… OK?” He asks and it’s sweet how he doesn’t even know how badly he just rocked your whole world.

“Ten out of ten would recommend” you retort teasingly, lifting your foot to push gently at his hip and he rolls his eyes playfully and lands a little swat to your thigh.

“Smartass. Maybe I oughta trade you in for Benny after all” he quips. “Get a lot less lip I bet”

“Hmm, but probably a lot less tongue too” you tease right back and he groans as you yank him down on top of you by his collar once more.

You’re not quite finished with Frankie Morales just yet.

Taglist: @yorksgirl @chronically-ghosted @rav3n-pascal22 @suzdin @boliv-jenta @senaar-ika @nerdieforpedro @theywhowriteandknowthings @within-the-depths @axshadows @iamasaddie @macabremads @prolix-yuy @vickywallace @survivingandenduring

If you'd like to be added, lmk!

[dimensionzero]

so anyway if y'all've got an insatiable craving after atsv, here's some spiderverse fics that deserve some love!

gotta start with Spiders' Night Out! by Chaos_and_Sparkles, my favourite of the rapidly forming pavitr-and-hobie-rob-the-british-museum genre --- in this one, their master plan drags the Spot along for the ride and it's great

courage (never forgotten) by stars_and_scars1 is an interesting character study on miles during atsv. I'm very intrigued by the writing style. it might go well with Look at me, falling fast by umwelt, gwen's POV of her visit with miles, which manages to be extremely funny and kind of heartbreaking at the same time.

speaking of gwen, State of Grace by Fichistory is gwen's POV of itsv, and I love her and miles in this one, I will be imagining it as her inner monologue every time I rewatch itsv after this. I'm also obsessed with how 14Passionz describes earth-65's mood-ring watercolour style throughout ink pallette, a great fic to cry about over gwen and her dad. and rounding out my gwen recs is the mark of a true spider-man by joshriku, in which gwen crowd-sources the meaning of being spider-man and has a conversation with peter b about, y'know. the elephant in the room.

if you're in the mood for a laugh, please read restorative justice by Nanashi07, the one where miles decides to rehabilitate miguel using restorative justice techniques while gwen and hobie heckle them and peter b cackles from the sidelines. for a slightly angstier post-atsv fic, there's also i only see you in the city light by yukla, in which miles has struggles and hobie is a bro. and you can find yet more post-atsv fics with the run run fast as you can series by Quillium (speaking of Quillium, they've also got equifinality, in which prowler!miles gets forcibly befriended by spider-man. while trying to murder him. it's complicated.); my favourite of the series has to be pavitr prabhakar and being spider-man, a character study that addresses how pav must feel over his friends knowing about canon events and not telling him in a way that feels very true to his character.

speaking of pavitr, Chaos_and_Sparkles is also writing a character study/speculative backstory for him in One Must Imagine Sisyphus Happy, which starts off very sweet and funny and halfway through takes a deep dive into angst. if you want sweet and funny all the way through, try na dekhi koi aisi girl by whatcaniwriteinthis, a pavitr/gayatri meet-cute. Who wants to punch a fascist? by I_have_hella_nice_abbs is a different kind of sweet and funny with noir and hobie bonding, three guesses how--- I like noir's internal monologue in this one a lot. and speaking of hobie, my favourite fic centred around him has to be Teenage Anarchist by gender_bender08, a character study that runs from his recruitment into spider-society to his exit-stage-center from atsv. it does both hobie and his relationships really really well.

and lastly, this is technically an older one but I can't make a spiderverse fic rec and not recommend Spider-Man Is Dead (Long Live Spider-Man) by aetataureate, it's a series of character studies on ripeter, gwen, peter b, and miles during itsv and it's insane how few hits it has for being some of my favourite pieces of writing in anything ever. anyway that's all for now, have fun y'all

[skz-streamer]

Newest Member of Cultracha

<- Back to article

<- BACK TO MASTERLIST

Pairing: ot8 (skz) x fem!reader (9th member)

Genre: Fluff, Crack? Idol Au

Warnings: cult members, slight mention of religion, being in a van? idk?

Notes: Ok at first I was like let me wait until I post the full master list of everything...but I kinda feel bad that I'm not feeding y'all anything so here you go.... Basically Y/n is part of Cultracha w Hyunjin and Jeongin, this is the backstory of it. YAYYYY FIRST FIC PART OF THE Y/N MASTERLIST!!!

Summary: Stopping on a road trip to take a bathroom break becomes a little more memorable than you thought it would be.

-please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately face claims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people

Word count ~700 ;)

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The van hums along the scenic coastal road, and the atmosphere inside is electric with excitement. You're nestled between Felix and Changbin, enjoying the animated chatter and laughter of your fellow members.

Bang Chan, your designated driver, glances over his shoulder and grins, "Alright, who's ready for some awesome tunes?" He cranks up the music, and the van erupts with cheers and claps.

Seungmin, riding shotgun, adds with a mischievous grin, "As long as you don't play any of those old-school songs, Chan."

Chan rolls his eyes, pretending to be offended. "Hey, my playlist is diverse!"

A chorus of playful laughter fills the air, and you join in. Seungmin leans toward you, teasing, "Don't worry, Y/n, I'm sure he's got at least one song from this decade on there."

You giggle, feeling the friendly vibes flowing through the van. The snacks you packed are making the rounds, and there's an ongoing competition between Hyunjin and Jeongin to see who can finish their bag of chips first.

As you navigate through the twists and turns, the conversation shifts to jokes. Han clears his throat dramatically. "Alright, guys, get ready for the funniest joke you'll ever hear."

"Let's hear it," Minho urges, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Han smirks, "Why did the scarecrow win an award?"

The van falls into a brief silence before Jeongin's deadpan response, "Because he was outstanding in his field?"

Han bursts into laughter, clapping his hands. "Yes! You got it!"

The rest of you burst into laughter as well, teasing Han for his choice of joke. "Wow, Han, you're really raising the bar for comedy," Seungmin jokes, earning more laughter.

Felix chimes in with his Australian accent, "Alright, I've got one. Why don't scientists trust atoms?"

Your curiosity piqued, you lean in. "Why?"

"Because they make up everything!" Felix delivers the punchline with a grin, and the van erupts into laughter once again.

Hyunjin claps him on the shoulder. "Guys I might actually jump out of the van if I hear one more joke."

As the jokes and laughter continue, Bang Chan suggests a bathroom break. You spot a small convenience store and point it out. The van comes to a stop, and you all pile out, stretching your legs and enjoying the fresh air.

The restrooms are a bit off the beaten path, nestled between tall trees. The small store looks like something straight out of a movie. After using the restroom, you exit and notice two individuals standing near the entrance. You hear snippets of their conversation about spirituality as you pass by.

"Excuse me, miss," one of them begins, stepping toward you. "Have you ever considered the path to true enlightenment?"

Caught off guard, you stutter, "Well, I..."

Before you can finish, the other person joins in, their eyes intense. "Our journey has led us to discover profound answers. Are you on a journey of your own?"

Feeling a bit overwhelmed, you mumble, "I'm sorry, I have to go," and quicken your pace to the van.

Once inside, the memory of the encounter lingers, and your wide eyes don't go unnoticed by your members. As they return, laughter and smiles in tow, Hyunjin notices your demeanor.

"Hey, Y/n, everything okay?" he asks, genuine concern in his voice.

You take a deep breath and share the bizarre encounter with the strangers. The van goes quiet as everyone absorbs the story, but soon enough, a burst of laughter fills the space.

Jeongin chuckles, "Cult members? Seriously?"

Minho grins, "Only you could attract that kind of attention, Y/n."

You let out a nervous laugh, "Yeah, tell me about it."

Changbin shakes his head with a smirk, "Well, you're back with us now, safe and sound."

Felix pats your shoulder, "Don't worry, Y/n, we won't let any cults recruit you."

As the van continues down the coastal road, you feel the warmth of your friends' comfort. Bang Chan offers a reassuring smile through the rearview mirror. "We've got your back, always."

Minho adds with a chuckle, "Yeah, and if they ever ask you to join, just tell them you're already part of the most exclusive cult – Stray Kids."

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Permanent tag list: @eee5533 @mixtape-racha @ot8skz-wifey @ren0325 @felixvsp

Click here to be added❤️

[cheesy09]

SO--

This is now going to be a Kiro AND Rafayel obsession blog. I mean...

LOOK! AT! HIM!!!!! 😍 While his personality is quite different from that of Kiro's (MLQC) or Luke's (Tears of Themis), his dynamic with the MC is by far my favourite in the game, not to mention his super duper interesting backstory. Also, none of the other guys get me laughing the way Rafayel does 😂

I've only played the game for five days now, but from what I've read so far, Rafayel is a genius artist known throughout Linkon City. Even tho he possesses the Fire Evol, (without spoiling anything) he has a special connection to water. He's witty (annoyingly so), intelligent, passionate, funny, charming, shameless and will use any sort of ridiculous excuse to keep the MC close to him.

But under that playful and witty exterior he hides a past and a side to him as deep and mysterious as the fathomless oceans (see what I did there ;)). Like Kiro, there are a few moments where he gives off an uncanny aura of loneliness to the MC, and often engages in deep introspective moments with her.

Coming to his dynamic with the MC, y'all know I'm a sucker for the best friends turned lovers, and this is no different. While Zayne and the MC may be the childhood friends of the story (and yes, they do have quite amusing banter as well), their dynamic isn't as fiery or spirited as Raf and MC's. Both Rafayel and MC love messing with each other, especially Rafayel. And both of them take every opportunity they can to tease each other as much as possible.

Rafayel is also someone who desperately yearns for the MC's attention and is ready to go to ridiculous lengths to obtain it. And the MC reluctantly goes along with all of his whims. Their relationship also has an angsty side to it, shrouded in mystery, but I will go more in depth with that once I get more information. But from what I can tell, there are reasons behind literally all of his words and actions. Just like Kiro, he is an incredibly complex character with layers to be explored in the future.

So yeah, be prepared for content spam from this game, specifically this man here, because I'm addicted at this point :D

[here2bbtstrash]

look down on me like that - 7 (explicit)

genre: slow burn enemies to lovers hatefucking coworkers au, smut (w some eventual angst)

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary: your asshole coworker min yoongi has made it his personal mission to ruin your life.

word count: 8.9k

contains: ~explicit sexual content~ !! alcohol mention, baby goth jungkookie 👀 some appreciation of jimin's ass 🍑 wonho is back !!! reader continues to be goin through it, jimin pulls no punches this chapter he rly said the library is open, could it be..... a.... softer yoongi???, i put some of yoongi's actual achievements as a producer in here (yes that's a warning), suckin' dick and fuckin' in the office yktfv (but make it Riskier™️), inadvisable methods of dealing with presentation anxiety, protected sex, a half-kiss that i fully expect to be screamed at about, some Sad Yoongi Backstory is unlocked (and yes it's real 🥲), and???? feelings??? maybe????????

A/N: ohhhhhh man we're back back again 🫡 i really did not think this chapter was gonna go that hard and then suddenly sdkjgdfljg i don't even know what happened. thank you so much for your patience bc i know it's been a minute 🥺 and i really really hope y'all enjoy and can't wait to hear what you think !!!! 💜 AND I CAN ALREADY TELL YOU Y'ALL AREN'T READY FOR CHAPTER 8...... (i'm not even ready 😩)

ALL MY LOVE TO @haliiimede FOR BETA READING ILY SORRY I FORGOT TO CREDIT YOU THROW ME AWAY

read on AO3!

chapter six | masterlist | chapter eight

~*~

“Jungkook?”

His nose scrunches up a little when he laughs. “Were you expecting someone else?”

“I-I… I just—” You stammer, trying to remember how to make words happen. It feels like your brain is on a five-second delay. “You, uh, look different. Your outfit.”

You’ve interacted with your baby-faced coworker literally hundreds of times at this point, and in that time you’ve become well-accustomed to seeing him in his standard corporate attire, slacks and button-downs, or occasionally changed out for boxing class, muscle tees and sweatpants.

But you have never seen him dressed like this. All black, head-to-toe. His t-shirt and over-shirt are both baggy while somehow still managing to hug tight around his biceps and the solid muscle of his chest. A silver chain dangles from one of the belt loops of his slouchy utility pants, which are in turn tucked into chunky combat boots that easily give him an extra two inches of height. A matching thick silver chain is clasped around his neck, glittering in the dim light of dusk outside your front door.

Jungkook frowns as he looks down at himself, like he doesn’t even recall what he’s wearing. “I always dress like this,” he remarks with a shrug. “Just, not at work.”

“I cannot believe you,” you say, somewhat breathless as your eyes trace down his body and back up.

“What?” He laughs again. “What did I do?”

“First you keep from me that you have dogs, and now I found out you’re goth, too? What else are you hiding, Jeon Jungkook?!”

“I’m not hiding anything! These things never came up!” He sounds so flustered that you can’t help but smile, and you see a clear expression of relief flash over his face as he seems to realize you’re not actually mad.

You shake your head, digging into your purse to retrieve your phone as you brush past him, letting the front door slam shut behind you. “That’s it. Baby Star Candy is dead. You are officially Baby Goth now. Changing your contact name and everything.”

When you turn to look at him over your shoulder, he’s still smiling, still standing dumbfounded on your doorstep.

“Come on, Baby Goth!” You can’t quite suppress the laughter in your voice. “I don’t want to be late!”

As the two of you slip into Jungkook’s car and he starts to pull out of your apartment complex, he glances over at you. ”So, what did you get up to today? I feel like I barely saw you.”

Your gut twists as it all comes rushing back— that mere hours ago Yoongi had you pressed against the door of his office, his hand up your dress, while he went through an entire business conversation with none-the-wiser Jungkook on the other side. And that once Jungkook had left, you’d turned around and practically begged Yoongi to fuck you where you stood, right up against his fucking door. And he had.

Your chest constricts a little at the thought. Sex, in the office, in the middle of the workday. Like an idiot.

You wish you could say you regret it.

Heat rushes to your face, and you fumble for an answer to Jungkook’s question. “I just, uh— today… was a lot.” You hope your smile is more convincing than it feels, and you hope you’re just imagining the way Jungkook’s eyes linger on you for an extra second before his gaze flits back to the road.

“Well,” he thumbs at the volume control on the steering wheel, turning up the radio a couple notches. “Now we get to have fun. Work hard, play hard, right?”

Your nerves start to recede again as you fall into the comfortable routine of time spent with Jungkook. It’s funny to you now that you thought it might be any different to interact with him outside of work.

Apart from the mildly distracting fit of his shirt, Jungkook is exactly the same— wide eyes sparkling in the headlights of passing cars as he babbles on about TikTok, then interrupts himself to sing along to the radio. He only pauses for breath when you interject with directions to the venue, until he’s finally pulling into a parking space and turning the key to kill the engine.

Jungkook gazes up in awe as you have your tickets scanned and lead him into the venue entrance, clearly trying to take it all in. This is one of your favorite places to see Jimin perform, and it’s still overwhelmingly impressive, even though you’ve seen it dozens of times now.

“Wow, this place is really nice. Your friend must be a pretty big deal.”

“Jimin is a huge deal,” you say with a nod and a shrug, used to it. “You’ll understand why when you see him dance… And also when you see his ass.” You giggle a little, unable to help yourself.

Jungkook laughs too, eyebrows lifting off his forehead like he wasn’t expecting that response.

You wave him down a hallway towards the center of the venue. “Come on, Baby Goth, we’re in VIP.”

His brows lift impossibly higher. “What does that mean?”

You shoot him a wink. “It means we drink for free.”

You know the route by heart as you emerge from the hallway and lead Jungkook towards the front, where you flash your tickets again to be let into a section close to the stage.

Jungkook eagerly volunteers to get the first round, and you’re thankful he isn’t gone long. Alone with your thoughts is the last thing you want to be right now— at least not while sober. When he hands you your drink, you lean in to tap the plastic edge of your cup against his in a cheers.

“To working hard and playing hard,” you smirk as you repeat his line back to him, then pause. “Just— please do not share anything I say tonight with anyone at work.”

“I swear,” Jungkook nods, and you can’t help but smile when he holds out the pinky of his free hand. You link yours with his to seal the deal. “I’m good at keeping secrets,” he says earnestly.

“Right, like you kept the secret of Yoongi’s lock code?”

His face immediately reddens. “That was different.” He covers the awkward pause— or maybe you’re just imagining it— when he takes a sip of his drink, then continues. “Did you ever end up using it?”

Your heart drops into your stomach, and you exhale in relief when at that moment, the lights start to dim, and the now filled-in crowd begins to cheer in anticipation. You wave a hand at Jungkook as if to indicate you’ll tell him later, and you pray he won’t remember to bring it up again.

As the dancers take the stage, you lean over to point Jimin out to Jungkook, though you know as soon as he starts moving you won’t have to. Everyone is talented, but there’s something about the way your best friend dances that makes it impossible to watch anyone else. He can nail any style, can convey so much story and emotion through his movements, can execute choreography flawlessly while still doing it in his own unique way.

After the first few songs, you’re both on your feet, and when Jungkook leans toward you to be heard over the music, you’re certain he’s about to gush over how good Jimin is, the way everyone does the first time they see him perform.

“You weren’t kidding about his ass!” He half-shouts instead, and you nearly drop your drink. Jungkook stares openly at Jimin as he moves across the stage, both powerful and graceful. His head tilts slightly to one side. “I mean. Wow.”

The alcohol makes you laugh easily and loud. You have to take a moment to catch your breath before you can respond. “Okay, Jungkook!”

“What?” Jungkook is laughing now, too. “I can appreciate a nice ass, regardless of who it’s attached to!” There’s a pause as you both giggle and catch your breath. “But uh— please don’t share that at work.”

You extend your pinky first this time. “Promise.”

Jungkook smiles as he locks his finger with yours, then drops your hand. The song has ended, so he doesn’t have to talk quite so loud as he continues. “He really is talented, too.���

You nod. “Jimin was a trainee for a few years, but I think he’s a lot happier just dancing like this. It was a lot of pressure.”

Soft synths of the intro to the next song have already started to build, and when the beat kicks in, Jungkook’s eyes go wide, and he looks up with a grin. “Oh shit! I fucking love this song!”

You giggle. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before.”

He glances at you over the rim of his cup, his smile growing cocky. “Well, you’ve never gotten drunk with me before. The things you miss when you leave happy hour early.”

Your heart sinks a little at the memory, and you’re grateful Jungkook is already lost in his own world, bopping along to the upbeat song, so he doesn’t seem to notice the way your face falls. It’s like Yoongi has left fingerprints all over your life, and no matter what you do, you can’t get rid of them.

You take a long pull of your drink until you hit the bottom.

Jungkook is a welcome distraction to it all. By the final chorus of the song that you now recognize as an EXO cover, he’s fully gotten into it, unable to stand still and launching into some on-the-spot choreography. When he executes a dangerously well-performed body roll, your jaw drops.

“I think you missed your calling,” you shout over the music. “You should’ve been an idol!”

“Yeah?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, hips still moving fluidly. “Think I’d be as good as Kai?”

You nod. “Oh yeah. I can see it now.” You gesture as if reading off a magazine headline. “Heartthrob Jeon Jungkook. But they’d call you Baby Star Candy, of course.”

Jungkook smiles at you, striking a final deliberate pose for the last note of the song. “I thought I was Baby Goth now?”

You smirk as you correct him. “Only I’m allowed to call you that. Your army of fangirls will have to get in line.”

It’s like the lack of music backing him up makes him go shy, and you watch the way Jungkook’s cheeks flush, the way his nose scrunches when he laughs and waves the idea away. “I’m good. Think I’ll stick to TikTok.”

You giggle through another two drinks before the show is over, and as the dancers leave with a final wave, you cheer extra loud for Jimin until he glances your way and sticks his tongue out at you. When the house lights come up, you nod for Jungkook to follow you, making your way past more security to the back of the venue to meet Jimin at the stage door.

You can’t help but laugh a little in surprise when you round the corner to see a familiar face amidst the small group already waiting. Wonho is leaning up against the wall, looking hilariously small and nervous for how large his frame is, and clutching a bouquet of roses as red as his hair.

Biting your lip, you wave at him, and he waves back, but neither of you move to say anything else.

You can’t quite shake the embarrassment that comes with being reminded of the night you first met Wonho. Just another set of stupid Yoongi fingerprints.

Jimin emerges from the stage door a few minutes later, unceremoniously dropping the dance bag slung over his arm when his eyes land on Wonho waiting for him.

“Aw, baby!” Jimin pouts in disbelief as he accepts the roses, only to then immediately be swept up into a bridal carry. He squeaks when Wonho effortlessly lifts him off the ground. 

You roll your eyes despite the smile that creeps across your face. “You two are ridiculous.”

Jimin shoots you a sour look. “Can you let me have a whirlwind romance for once in my damn life, please?” He takes Wonho’s face in both hands to kiss him squarely on the mouth.

Jungkook is clearly still processing all of this, radiating ‘confused but happy to be here’ energy as he scoops Jimin’s abandoned dance bag off the floor to carry it over his shoulder.

Jimin sideeyes Jungkook as he pulls away. “And who is this man touching my stuff?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, and he glances at the bag like maybe he should put it back down.

You reach up to smack Jimin on the arm. “Shut up. This is my friend and coworker, Jungkook. Be nice to him.”

“I’m not going to be nice to anyone until I get some fucking food,” Jimin snaps. His toes point as he kicks his feet daintily in Wonho’s arms, a dancer through and through. “Can we go eat now?”

Your first stop is a restaurant near the venue where you order a metric ton of brisket at Jimin’s demand. While Wonho and Jungkook easily destroy most of it between the two of them, your best friend still seems to have enough to improve his mood. It probably helps that Wonho hand-feeds the majority of it to him.

When he’s not gazing adoringly at his boyfriend, Jimin is attempting to communicate with you using solely his eyes, which keep darting over to Jungkook, his brows lifting in a silent question.

You tighten your jaw and do your best to subliminally shake your head without attracting Jungkook’s attention. Thankfully Jungkook doesn’t seem to remember that there’s anything else in the world except his plate of food.

Jimin narrows his gaze at you, his universal signal for “we’ll discuss this later”, and dread floods in the pit of your stomach.

Sure enough, when you finish your meal and move to a table at the bar down the street, Jimin sweetly suggests that Wonho and Jungkook go together to grab the first round of drinks, giving no indication that he has any sort of ulterior motive. They shrug and nod, Jungkook immediately starting to quiz Wonho on his protein intake as they depart.

Jimin pounces as soon as you’re alone again. “I’m sorry, you’re having a sordid office sex affair with a coworker and you’re telling me it’s not this man?!”

You roll your eyes. “No, Jimin.”

Jimin sucks his teeth, clearly unimpressed. “I thought I raised you better than this. I’m about to make him my hot goth girlfriend if you don’t.”

“You literally have a boyfriend.”

His brows pinch together, like he’s confused why that matters. “Wonho would love a third. He can barely keep up with me. But don’t change the subject.” He leans forward, arms folded on the table as he stares you down. “Babygirl, why on earth are you wasting your time fucking a man you don’t like, when you clearly have some very nice alternatives available to you?”

“I’m not doing that anymore,” you scowl. “The correct number of coworkers I should be fucking is zero.” It feels like Jimin’s gaze is drilling right to the depths of your soul, and you press your face into your hands as alcohol loosens your lips and the guilt overflows. “…Even though the actual number of coworkers I fucked today is one.”

“Bitch!” Jimin’s hand smacks loud against the wood grain, enough to make you flinch a little. “You have got to be fucking joking!”

You shake your head silently into your palms.

“At the office?!”

You nod pathetically for a few moments before dropping your arms down on the table with a whine, your forehead quickly following. “I don’t even know what happened. It’s like when I’m around him my brain malfunctions.”

Jimin goes uncharacteristically silent, and when you dare to peek up at him, his lips are pursed slightly as if in thought. “Are you sure you hate him?”

The question makes you sit back up. “What does that mean?”

He shrugs, feigning innocence. “I don’t know, it’s just... if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that kinda sounds like a crush.”

You instantly make a face of disgust. “What?! No. Absolutely not. I know I hate him. He’s a nightmare. He’s cocky and insufferable—”

“So am I,” Jimin interrupts, crossing his arms over his chest. “And you love me.”

You open your mouth to argue back, but he lifts a single finger to quiet you.

“I’m not done.” He pauses, and there’s an immediate sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. “What I see right now—” Jimin gestures in the direction of the bar “—is a fit, handsome, and seemingly very nice man who has spent the whole night looking at you like you put the fucking stars in the sky. And yet here you are, still talking about Suga, like you’ve been doing nonstop for the last month, who apparently has such a hold on you that he can make your panties drop during business hours. Yet I’m supposed to believe you hate him? This math is not mathing, love.”

It’s only when he stops talking that you realize your pulse is racing.

“Jimin,” you breathe. You double-blink, hot all over with a rush of sudden shame, trying to will away the sting at the corners of your eyes. “That’s not fair.”

Jimin’s gaze stays locked on yours as he refuses to back down even an inch. “Answer me this: would you be reacting this way if you really did hate him?”

Your jaw drops in disbelief, but you only get a beat of silence to attempt to process your best friend’s comments before Jungkook is thudding a glass of beer on the table in front of you.

“Sorry that took a second! It’s busy tonight,” Jungkook says brightly as Wonho moves around to the remaining open seat. “What were you guys talking about?”

Jimin fixes Jungkook in a blank stare. “Menstruation,” he replies flatly, not missing a beat.

You cling to your drink for dear life as the conversation continues on around you, and you do your best to smile and nod while you try not to replay Jimin’s words back a million times in your mind. But it’s a losing battle.

As your head spins, you run through the list of things you know to be true. Min Yoongi is your coworker. Min Yoongi is unquestionably an asshole. Min Yoongi has, since your very first day, embarrassed you, belittled you, lied to you, even threatened your job. Min Yoongi has never shown an ounce of evidence that he cares for you in any way. Your eyes flit aimlessly around the room as you try to think. Min Yoongi is—

Your heart drops into your gut. Min Yoongi is sitting at the end of the bar.

It’s not real.

This can’t be real, you tell yourself. It’s just the long, strange day and several drinks you’ve had working together to play tricks on your brain.

You blink hard, willing Yoongi’s face to morph back into that of some stranger, but when you open your eyes again, he’s just as real, exactly the same as before.

Except for the fact that he’s now staring at you.

Yoongi’s mouth goes slack, like he’s coming to the same realization as you— that the two of you have managed to find yourselves in the same place at the same time, completely by chance.

You stand up so fast you nearly knock your drink over. All three heads at the table swivel to look at you, and Jungkook speaks first.

“You okay?”

“Uh, y-yeah, yes,” you stammer unconvincingly. “Just gonna grab another beer.” Your eyes glance back up to search for Yoongi again, but they don’t immediately catch sight of him, and you don’t dare look for too long.

“You still have half of this one left,” Jimin remarks dryly.

Your gaze returns to your drink and you choose the first option that occurs to you: you down the rest in one swig and slam the empty glass on the table. All three pairs of eyes on you go wide.

“I’ll get another one for everyone, be right back!” You grit your teeth in something that you hope approximates a smile, then start to head for the bar, your heart already racing with anticipation.

After a few steps, a hand on the small of your back startles you, enough to make you freeze in place.

When you look over your shoulder, you see it’s Jungkook, also on his feet and right behind you. “Do you want help with the drinks?” He leans into your ear to ask the question, probably to be heard over the din of the bar. Your head is spinning from the rush of alcohol and from getting to your feet so fast. You don’t remember Jungkook smelling this good, or his voice being this low.

You turn to face him to answer and wow, now he’s really close. You sway slightly, a little unsteady on your feet, as your eyes meet his and your face flushes. “Oh, uh— no, I’m okay. But thanks, JK.”

There’s an extra second where neither of you say anything, Jungkook’s hand still pressed to your back, warm against the thin fabric of your dress. Then he nods and turns to head back to the table.

Your brain can hardly hold space for anything else as you spin towards the bar again, trying to catch sight of Yoongi through the crowd of people that only seems to have grown in the last few minutes. You weave through the mass of bodies with a combination of mildly polite apologies and stubborn determination, until you make it all the way up to the bar—

—where there is absolutely no sign of Yoongi. Gone without a trace, the barstool where you swear you just saw him now left empty.

You squeeze your eyes shut and exhale, willing your pulse to return to a normal pace. Maybe it was just your imagination, a trick of the light, a side-effect of an alcohol-dizzy brain and all this overthinking. Maybe you didn’t actually see what you thought you saw. Maybe…

It’s only when your eyes flutter open that you notice it. A nearly full glass of whiskey sitting abandoned on the bar, directly in front of the empty stool.

Before you can even think about why you’re doing it, you’re moving again, now fully shoving your way through the crowd of people until your palms find the glass of the front door and push hard. You stumble out of the bar, the cold night air like a slap to the face as you belatedly realize you left your jacket slung over the back of your chair.

Wrapping your arms around yourself with a shiver, you step out properly onto the sidewalk. Groups of passersby part down the middle to walk around you, and if they shoot you dirty looks, you miss them entirely. Your head whips one way, then the other, looking for— you’re not even sure what. A flash of familiarity, maybe, a glimpse of something, anything. If only just for reassurance that you didn’t make it all up.

Someone calls your name.

You spin around, your pulse thudding in your ears, only to belatedly realize it’s coming from the entrance of the bar, where Jungkook is standing, holding the door half-open as he leans through.

“What are you doing?” He steps out, letting the door fall shut behind him as he crosses to you. You don’t know why something in your gut twists, why you’re suddenly hit with the urge to scream at him. Didn’t you tell him not to follow you?

Jungkook continues when you don’t respond, his brow pinched with concern. “What’s wrong? Why are you out here?”

The question feels impossible to answer. You can’t think straight enough to make sense of any of it— why you went after Yoongi, what you planned to do when you caught up to him, why it even matters to you at all that he was here tonight.

Jimin’s words echo in your skull, deafening.

“I—” you stammer, giving the only answer you can. “I don’t know.”

A gust of cold air makes you shudder hard, and Jungkook’s hands have suddenly closed over yours on your upper arms, dry heat against your icy skin.

“It’s freezing out here,” he murmurs, clearly still confused. He shifts to wrap an arm around you, pulling you into his side, and you don’t fight it. 

Emotional exhaustion takes over, and as you allow Jungkook to lead you back inside, you do your best not to think about anything at all.

~*~

The weekend blinks by far too quickly, and the dread of Monday morning looms over you, all the little moments from Friday stacked like a heavy weight in the pit of your stomach.

You don’t hear from Jimin after Jungkook drops you off that night, and you’re too stubborn to text first, secretly hoping he’ll make the first move and apologize for reading you for filth unprovoked. But considering how busy he’s been with rehearsals leading up to the show, you doubt he and Wonho leave his bedroom all weekend.

Which means that when Monday morning comes, you have to face it alone.

Thankfully, you have no shortage of work to distract yourself with, so you try to keep your head down and focus, flitting between meetings, calls, spreadsheets, emails, paperwork, slide decks. You make polite conversation with Jungkook as always, but you keep it brief. When you take lunch at your desk, you tell yourself it’s just because you’re busy. That’s all.

You work and you work and you desperately try not to think about anything else. Your coworkers slowly start to trickle out as the day wraps up, but you barely pay them any mind, only half-heartedly returning the farewells called over their shoulders as they push through the glass doors.

When you finally sit back, it’s only because your vision is burning from endless screen time. You’re not even sure you’ve remembered to blink. You press your face into your hands to give your weary eyes a break, before glancing at the clock, eyes widening at the realization that it’s already past seven.

A wave of anxiety floods your veins as it occurs to you that you haven’t seen Yoongi leave yet— you would’ve noticed. You set your jaw as you reach for your phone.

Are you still here?

The response is nearly immediate.

Presentation room.

Better than his damn office, you think to yourself, and then two more texts pop up.

Need more time.

A lot more.

Fucking hell.

You shove your chair back and get to your feet, acting on impulse more than anything else. As you storm down the hallway, you will yourself not to be reminded of shoving through the crowded bar and stumbling into the street Friday night. You were just drunk, and surprised. This is different. It has to be.

You bang open the door to the presentation room with enough force to surprise even yourself.

“Now, Yoongi,” you snap.

He’s seated in the chair behind the podium at the front of the room, slouched over his laptop, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Despite your dramatic entrance, he doesn’t so much as glance up.

“Just give me like, ten minutes.” He winces at the screen of his computer. “Maybe twenty.”

You cross your arms in frustration. “Some of us are tired, Yoongi.”

At this, his head snaps up. “Well, some of us got tapped to give a fucking presentation to the visiting overseas team. Tomorrow!”

You take a step back, your eyes widening at his tone. You haven’t heard him genuinely raise his voice like this— not since the argument during your very first team meeting.

“Not like I don’t have shit that I’m supposed to be working on,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, eyes returning to squint at his laptop. You notice now that it’s connected to the screen at the front of the room, and you can see him scrolling through the slides of a presentation, pausing occasionally to add in speaking notes.

You blink, trying to keep up. “Why did they tap you?”

“A great question,” he huffs. “Apparently they’re curious about who the producer with the Grammy nomination is. I’m being asked to do a ‘high-level timeline of my career and accomplishments’. Guess these assholes haven’t heard of Wikipedia.”

“That’s… stupid.”

Yoongi looks up again, his mouth dropping open slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that response. He finally manages to speak as his gaze jumps back down to his slides. “Thank you. That’s what I said. I tried to get out of it, but it appears I am being forced.”

“I didn’t think you could be forced to do anything.”

“You’d be surprised,” he mumbles under his breath, paired with a dry laugh. “I’ve been forced into dealing with your ass, haven’t I?” His eyes don’t move from the screen.

A smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth before you can stop it, and you step further into the space. The room is set up with three large, unnecessarily fancy tables, reclaimed wood, arranged in a U shape facing the podium and screen at the front of the room.

Taking your time, you cross behind the tables and head for the seat furthest away from the podium, dead center. When you get there, rather than pull the chair out, you spin around to sit your ass on the wooden surface, turning in a half-circle so that your legs dangle off the edge, palms flat on either side of you.

You stare Yoongi down from across the room as he continues to fiddle with his laptop. “Let’s hear it, then.” When his eyes find yours, you tilt your head to the side expectantly. “It’s good to practice with an audience. You should be thanking me.”

For a moment, you think he might try to argue with you, but to your surprise, he gets to his feet with a resigned sigh. He presses a button on his laptop, and the presentation goes full-screen, flipping back to the first slide.

His mouth tightens as his fingertips grip the wooden edge of the podium.

“Good morning everyone, my name is Min Yoongi. I’m also known by my producer pseudonym, Suga.” His deep voice is monotone, edged rough like gravel, like there’s nothing he’d rather be doing less.

You fold your arms again, surveying Yoongi carefully as he continues. Your eyes widen in surprise when only a few sentences in, he outright trips over his words, stuttering an impressive amount before he manages to get back on track. His gaze remains at a fixed point on the floor, unmoving, and he speaks like his presentation is one endless sentence, without so much as a pause.

“Stop,” you call from your spot opposite him. The command comes out louder than you expect.

Yoongi’s head snaps up again, but to his credit, he stops talking.

“Start over,” you say simply. “Remember to breathe this time.”

Yoongi blinks once, twice, then silently taps through his slides to the beginning. You hear him take a tentative inhale before he starts. “Good morning everyone, my name is Min Yoongi.”

He takes it slower this time, getting past where you stopped him before, until a moment where he falls silent. You see his face twist slightly as color blooms in the apples of his cheeks. “Uh, shit. I forgot what my next thing was. Fuck, hang on.” He fumbles with the trackpad of his laptop, and you huff a laugh of disbelief.

“Oh my god.” You can’t quite manage to bite back your smile. “You do have a weakness.”

“I just hate presentations,” Yoongi sighs, his mouth pulling up into a flat line. “The whole point of being a producer is that I can stay in my studio and not have to deal with people.”

Your fingers tap against the edge of the table, intrigued. You’ve never seen him like this before. “You just need to fucking relax, Yoongi.”

“You say that like that’s something I know how to do,” he mutters, so low you wonder if you were supposed to hear it.

You’re on your feet and crossing the room before you can second-guess the thought. Yoongi glances up with a face that reads mild confusion, and the expression only deepens when you place both hands on his chest and firmly shove him. As he’s clearly not expecting it, it’s enough of a push to knock him off-balance, and he has to take a few steps back to steady himself.

“What are y—” The question dies in Yoongi’s throat as you sink to your knees in front of him. He’s moved just slightly out of reach, and you gaze up at him through your lashes and beckon him towards you with a single finger.

He steps forward as if drawn in, like a moth to a flame.

If there’s a part of you that tells you to pause and think about this before you do it, you can’t hear it over the deafening silence in the room. And the last thing you want to do right now is think.

Close enough to touch now, you flatten your palms to slide up the smooth fabric of Yoongi’s joggers, teasing your fingers over the waistband when you get there. You glance at him again, half expecting him to tell you to stop, but his only response is the jerk of his adam's apple in a hard swallow.

A thrill runs through you at the idea of doing this here, perfectly hidden behind the podium.

“Start from the beginning again,” you instruct, your voice low and even. “If you can do it like this, you can do it tomorrow.”

A muscle in Yoongi’s jaw jumps, and he nods almost imperceptibly. You don’t move an inch until he inhales and starts over. His voice isn’t quite as steady this time. “Good morning everyone, my name is Min Yoongi.”

With a self-satisfied smirk, you hook your fingers under both his joggers and boxers at once and firmly push them down. His dick has only barely started to harden, which makes sense, given his nerves and your wholly unexpected ambush.

The thought of feeling his cock grow in your mouth, get heavy on your tongue, makes arousal start to pool in your gut.

He’s still talking, hasn’t even stumbled once yet, so you reward him with a finger curled under the head of his dick, lifting it up to be flush with his stomach. You take your time as you drag your tongue up his exposed shaft, laid flat against the prominent veins there. When you reach the tip, you shift to grip him at the base so you can kitten lick at his frenulum, purposefully teasing.

Yoongi just barely manages to disguise his groan as a cough, and you pull back, smirking a little. “What was that?”

He exhales, clearly trying to regain focus as he continues where he left off. “I have over 100 KOMCA credits as a songwriter and producer.” You hum approvingly and take him into your mouth. 

As you hollow your cheeks and begin to suck, you can feel the way he swells to stretch you, pulsing warm, and it only encourages you. Your hands move to grip at his thighs, and when you take him deeper, head bobbing steadily, you taste the salt of his precum as he starts to drip.

You let your tongue loll out past your bottom lip to lap further down his shaft, and this time there’s no questioning the sound he makes: a distinct, breathy whimper. It’s enough to coax a wicked smile out of you, and you have to pull off his cock briefly to keep from gagging. You pause to admire the way it shines, glossed wet with your drool.

Your lips chase after him almost immediately, sucking just the tip in, and you swirl your tongue over it in lazy, sloppy circles.

Yoongi is clearly struggling to keep his composure now. “I was the first— oh, fuck.” He cuts himself off with a proper moan when you take him down as far as you can without warning. He hits the back of your throat and you keep him there, forcing yourself to swallow, your throat spasming around his length as you choke on it.

He tries again. “The f-first artist to win MAMA's 'Best Collaboration' award— m-multiple times.”

You finally pull off to gasp for air, a few strings of spit still connecting his now leaking-hard cock to your lips. Yoongi makes another soft noise at the loss, and you gaze up at him as you pant, reveling in the look of near-distress on his face.

“Finish the presentation,” you purr, your voice slightly hoarse from having just shoved his cock down your throat.

Yoongi’s eyes squeeze shut as he continues, and you lean forward, taking him into your mouth again tongue-first. You waste no time sucking him back into the tight clutch of your throat, and your fingertips dig bruises into the skin of his thighs to keep him from bucking his hips up.

You refuse to relinquish control. Not yet.

His hands cup the back of your head like he’s clinging on for dear life as he keeps trying to get the words out. “T-the collaboration netted me my first fuck—ing Grammy nomination. I— nnh— look forward to attending the ceremony in person next week, and I— I-I feel confident about our chances for success. Shit.” 

With this, you realize that he’s made it all the way through his talking points, and you pull off his dick with a wet pop.

“There,” you smirk, pausing to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand before getting to your feet again. The steady pulse between your legs is hard to ignore. “Was that so hard?”

“God dammit,” Yoongi’s voice is heady and dark as he steps in to close the distance between you. “I need to fuck you.”

You quirk an eyebrow, a little surprised by the bold statement. “Need?”

There’s a flash of something in his eyes that makes your cunt clench. “Get on the fucking table.”

Even as you follow his order, you can’t shake the feeling of still being in control, nor the smug satisfaction earned from making this man come undone so very easily. You hike your dress up slightly before perching on the table closest to the front of the room, your teeth raking over your bottom lip in anticipation.

Yoongi’s already standing in front of you, and his hands slide under your hips to firmly drag your ass to the edge of the table. In two swift movements he shoves your dress further up your thighs, then hooks his fingers under the lace of your panties and pulls them down, tugging them off one ankle entirely and leaving them to dangle from the other.

It’s only when your legs drop open that his hurried pace slows. He pauses, with a soft hum.

You inhale sharply when he lifts a hand up to brush over you. His fingers press against your folds in a V shape, teasingly pulling your pussy lips apart. Just the small motion is already enough to earn him a slick noise.

“Or,” he murmurs, “maybe I should repay the favor?”

Your chest constricts at the thought when you realize what he means. Going down on you, here, in a conference room, where anyone could technically walk in and see. It’s after hours, but you didn’t lock the front door— it’s not unheard of for someone to forget something at the office and double-back for it. It feels too luxurious, too dangerous. In more ways than one.

“We don’t have time, Yoongi.” Your hands fist in his shirt to pull him closer, and he steps in between your spread legs. “Just fuck me.”

The look on his face makes you wonder if you’re missing out. “Suit yourself.”

He fumbles into the pocket of his still pushed-down joggers to retrieve his wallet and fish out the condom tucked inside. A shiver runs up your spine as he tears it open and rolls it over his length.

Yoongi glances up at you when it’s all the way on, one hand pressing into the table behind you for leverage as he uses the other to line himself up with your entrance. It’s only now that you realize how very close to you he is. You’ve never done this face-to-face before.

With no prep, the stretch of him is nearly overwhelming when he pushes in, and you gasp. Yoongi stops when you do, only the very tip of him nudged inside of you.

“Hurts?”

“Not in the bad way,” you murmur, and he pushes in a little further, slow enough that you can feel every inch of him working your pussy open. Your fingers grip the edge of the table and dig in hard as you whimper at the sensation.

“That’s it, fuck.” Yoongi gives a grunt of effort as you take the last of him, until he’s pressed in to the hilt, your cunt clenched tight around him, your walls already fluttering softly from the pressure. You’re both breathing heavy as his hips momentarily still.

It takes you by surprise when his hand shifts to grab your jaw, tilting your gaze up to meet his. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip as he surveys you for a moment.

“Say it again,” he murmurs.

You swallow hard. “Fuck me.”

With the hint of a smirk, he starts to move. He rolls his hips to drag his cock nearly all the way out, then fucks it in again in one heavy stroke, angled perfectly to hit your g-spot. Your eyes roll back in your head.

“God, Yoongi,” you whine when he does it again, and again. “We— nnh, we shouldn’t be doing this.”

The hand on your jaw grips tighter. “Not even a lock on the door. Anyone could walk in and see.” Your cunt throbs at the low growl of his voice. “Do you want to stop?”

“N-no,” you groan as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, enough to make you dizzy. His hand slides down to splay broad over the column of your throat. “Please don’t fucking stop.” 

“Yeah?” He grunts, dark and raw, his grip tightening slightly. “Want it that bad?”

Your legs hook around his hips to urge him deeper, harder. “Need it.” Your voice is hardly more than a whisper from the pressure of his hand. You blink up at him, your eyes searching his— for what, you’re not sure.

“Need,” Yoongi breathes a laugh, more air than sound. “Makes two of us.”

Desperate for an anchor, you reach up and wrap your arms over his shoulders to pull him into you. Your mind is reeling with the adrenaline rush of doing something so reckless, and you press your bodies together until your noses bump with every stroke of his cock fucking into you. His parted lips are so close to yours now, you swear you can feel electricity sparking in the barely-there space between.

You feel like a live wire, like every sensation is amplified a thousandfold. Yoongi releases his grip on your throat to slip the same hand between his hips and yours, and his fingers circling your clit are enough to send you over the edge, fast.

“Yoongi,” you gasp into his mouth, your hands clawing at his shoulders as the pleasure builds until it’s too much, and your thighs start to shake. “Just like that, oh fuck, Yoongi, I-I’m gonna—”

“Come.” His lips brush against yours when he says it, a touch so light it could’ve been an accident.

You throw your head back with a strangled sob as your orgasm rips through you, and he leans into you, forehead dropping down against your collarbone, clearly close behind.

“God,” Yoongi groans hoarsely as his hips start to rut even faster. You’re so lost in pleasure, you can barely process that he’s speaking. “What are you doing to me?”

It only takes a few more thrusts and then he’s coming too, your cunt still spasming around him, both of his palms pressing flat to the table behind you as his voice breaks on a wordless rough-edged gasp.

You stay pressed into one another as you come down from the high together, all flushed skin and shaky breaths. Yoongi shifts first, lifting his head off your shoulder, and you take the cue to unwrap your arms from around his neck. It’s a slow, strained untangling, his spent cock starting to soften inside of you.

“Alright,” Yoongi still sounds breathless as he pulls out, and when he steps away, you reach down to tug your underwear back up over your hips.

Your saving grace is a box of tissues at the podium, and Yoongi makes short work of peeling the condom off, wrapping it in as many layers of tissues as he can before tucking it into the conference room trash can with a grimace. He uses a few more to clean himself up, then exhales a stream of air as he pulls his boxers and joggers back up.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

When you make it back to your desk, you pack your things up in a mindless haze. It’s only a minute or so after you finish that Yoongi emerges from his lab, and you follow after him out the glass front doors, neither of you speaking as you lock them from the outside.

The elevator ride down to the lobby is equally silent, until you step out and see gray-black stormy skies and a steady downpour of rain through the glass walls of the atrium.

“Shit,” you groan.

“Allergic to water?” Yoongi’s smug voice over your shoulder immediately makes your jaw clench.

“Shut up,” you snap. “I didn’t bring an umbrella, and the bus stop is a few blocks from my apartment. I’m gonna fucking drown.” Not that you care, you tack on silently.

“You take the bus?”

At this, you whip around to glare at him. “We’re not all millionaire music producers, you know.”

He shrugs, like you’re not wrong. “I can give you a ride. My car’s in the garage.”

Your eyebrows nearly shoot off your forehead, but Yoongi is already crossing to the elevator bank on the other side of the lobby. He presses the button, then looks back at you nonchalantly, like he’s just offered the most normal thing in the world.

Which, maybe it would be, under different circumstances. But there is absolutely nothing normal about your relationship with Min Yoongi.

As if to make the decision for you, a clap of thunder rumbles outside, so loud it feels like the building rattles. You swallow the last bit of dignity you have as you follow Yoongi into the garage elevator. Once the doors close, you can’t help but shoot him a look out of the corner of your eye, but his gaze is fixed on the indicator, watching the numbers tick down as you descend.

“Why are you being nice to me?” Your voice comes out harsher than you mean it to, and Yoongi turns his head to look at you, one eyebrow slightly raised.

“What does that mean?”

“Driving me home? We don’t do this.” You cross your arms over your chest, indignant. “As soon as the sex is done, you don’t want anything to do with me.”

You’re surprised when he laughs a little. “That’s funny.”

You narrow your eyes. “What’s funny?”

He stares at you pointedly, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek for a moment before he continues. “You say that, but if memory serves, you’re the one who keeps running away after.”

You open your mouth to respond, then close it, unsure of what to say. He’s not exactly wrong. Finally it comes back to you. “That’s not true. I saw you, on Friday, and I know you saw me. You left so fast you didn’t even finish your drink.”

Yoongi’s face scrunches up in a slight wince, like he’d rather not recall the moment.

“Yeah, well. That was different. I was trying to respect your privacy. Let you go on your date in peace.” He smirks slightly. “Though I guess it can’t have gone that well.”

You roll your eyes, your patience really starting to thin. “Jungkook and I are just friends, Yoongi.”

“Okay,” he says flatly. “In any case, I certainly didn’t plan to show up and ruin your night or anything. Just an unfortunate cosmic coincidence.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth for a second. “We seem to have a lot of those.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi sighs. “We do.”

The elevator doors slide open, and you lapse into silence again as you follow Yoongi to his car and slip into the passenger seat. After you give him your address and he plugs it into the GPS, there’s no sound at all other than the fall of rain and the swipe of his windshield wipers once you pull out of the garage.

You worry at your bottom lip until the words bubble up. “You don’t listen to music?”

Yoongi’s eyes flit from the road over to you for just a second, like he wasn’t expecting the question. “Uh, I— no, not really. I do that all day. I don’t mind the silence.” You take that as your cue to fall quiet. To your surprise, he keeps talking.

“You know, when I was a teenager, I had a part-time job at a music studio in Daegu.” He squints out the rainy windshield, like he’s recalling the memory. “I started making my own beats there, and I learned a lot of stuff that fueled my drive to be a producer.”

He glances at you again, and you nod, unsure where this is going.

“But, uh—” He huffs a laugh, like he’s embarrassed. “They didn’t pay me. Just kinda how things were back then, and I was too young to know better.” Stopped at a light now, Yoongi drums his fingers over the steering wheel. “I remember there were a lot of nights where I couldn’t afford both food and the bus ride home. If I wanted to eat, that meant a two hour walk home.”

Your jaw drops. “Jesus.”

Yoongi’s mouth presses into a flat line. “Yeah. Wasn’t easy.” There’s a heavy silence, and then he shrugs. “Anyway. Just made me think of it, when you said you take the bus. I haven’t thought about that in a long time.”

“Wow.”

The light changes color and he eases off the brake. You think maybe that’s all you’ll get, and then he nods. “It’s almost like I forget sometimes. That life isn’t still like that. It still feels like it could all get pulled out from under me any second.”

You hum as you take in his words. “And… that’s why you don’t know how to relax?”

The corner of his mouth turns up a little. “Pretty much.”

You can’t suppress the soft laugh that slips out, so you look out the passenger window, letting the sound flutter out to the rain-streaked glass. “Your villain origin story.”

When you glance back at him, a smile has stretched over the whole of Yoongi’s face, though his gaze is still fixed on the road. “Spoken like somebody who wants to walk home.”

There’s a gentle buzzing in your brain, and you wonder if it’s just a post-orgasm high. “Nice try, Min Yoongi,” you tease. “You don’t scare me anymore. I know you’re all empty threats now.”

His eyes flash, and in that moment his expression goes somewhere you can’t quite follow.

“Maybe so.”

The conversation lulls again, and you watch the rain fall fast and heavy on the car windshield, fat droplets scattered aside over and over by the relentless wiper blades.

Try as you might to not think about it, you can’t help but be hyper-aware of Yoongi sitting next to you. He drives one-handed, like it’s easy, his free arm resting on the center console between you. You can see the prominent veins of his hand in clear detail each time the car slips under the glow of a streetlight. Close enough to touch, if you wanted.

The silence has you counting your inhales. It occurs to you that this is the most time you’ve spent in such close proximity to Yoongi where you weren’t actively having sex. You don’t know what to make of it.

He turns into your apartment complex, pulling to a stop in front of your building when you point it out to him. You automatically reach for the door handle, then pause and turn back to look at him, figuring you should say something. “Uh, thanks. For the ride.”

Yoongi smirks. “Thanks for the public speaking lesson.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling a little despite yourself. “I guess we’ll see tomorrow if it worked or not.”

“Guess so.”

There’s a pause, and your heart squeezes into your throat. You don’t know why it feels like you’re waiting for something to happen.

That thought alone is enough to spur you into action, and you quickly avert your gaze from Yoongi’s face. “Have a good night,” you murmur as you fumble open the door, grab your purse, and slip out of the car without waiting for a response.

As you climb the stairs to your apartment and hear the slick of Yoongi’s tires turning out of the complex, you can’t help but wonder if this counts as running away, too.

chapter six | masterlist | chapter eight

[docholligay]

The Lies of Locke Lamora by Scott Lynch

Nonspoilery: This is a super fun read that is very much in keeping with how I like my fantasy. I wish it were slightly more on the con man side, but I recognize that those are very difficult to write because one needs to actually be clever enough to come up with the insanely clever plan that unfolds, and, you know what, I'm not there either. But it absolutely is a fun crimey fantasy novel, well written that expects you can actually follow a line of description and maybe even look up a big word, that tries very hard not to bore you with needing to refer to a glossary or map.

I will say, and I'll talk about this more below: There are basically no women in this novel. it's a little disappointing. I still overall think it's worth it if you like this sort of thing though.

SPOILERS BELOW:

THIS is the kind of thing pitchless draw was made for. You could not have talked me into reading this book. Unless you possess an incredible skill--I'm not sure *I* could have talked me into reading this book, and supposedly no one knows me better.

But I did really enjoy myself. This is a flat out FUN novel, that doesn't mind being long but never feels long. I LOVED the long bits of description in this book, I BEG for flavor in some many modern novels that strip away anything that isn't an immediate moving of the ball. Actually, one of the things I would say that's not a criticism so much as a preference, is that I feel like this book, and probably this writer, remembering his short story from Rogues, is more plot-driven than character driven. I am a girl who loves a really interior novel, and this isn't that, but it did not stop me from having a GREAT time. It's a romp.

I like Locke, and his whole backstory. I wish he were a woman. Specifically, I would love to see a femme con artist, second coming of Minako Aino, Becky Sharp ass bitch. THAT would be my dream for Locke Lamora. And I know my friends who have read this book all want butch Locke and I love that for you, and I know y'all have known me long enough to know I love a butch, but I deserve a treat as well, and I LOVE con artists, and goddamnit, if I could change one thing about this novel, Locke Lamora would be a femme lesbian and I would change NOTHING else. You wouldn't even have to. One fo the great things about Lynch not being a real interior writer is literally any of the mains could be a woman and it would change nothing.

This does segue into the big problem here--there's no women in this novel. It's a 700 page book and I could condense the lines said by women into like two or three pages. I actually DO get it. I think we're reaping a little bit of what we've sown, as a community, with the requirement for perfection in our representation that leads to very boring and safe choices. Everyone is a man. We're only swarthy at best. Can't be criticized for bad identity writing if you don't write them at all! ANd this isn't me being salty, I get how that happens, I have also sometimes fallen into making any character of identity boring as fuck or not writing them at all to avoid any criticism. And no one cares about ME, I'm not a best seller. I do think, maybe, people will get better about this. Pendulums and all. I miss the awkward, good faith 90s where you had the United Colors of Benetton and one character who randomly celebrated Hanukkah. We'll see.

ANYHOW NOT RELEVANT. But I do find it irritating that because of this, we don't see women in this huge story at all. None of the gang, even though it would have been easy as fuck to make, say, Bug a girl. Even doing something like making Nazca Barsavi the actual heir apparent, and to have her marrying Locke because she knows he won't try to be Capa, and she'll let him do whatever the fuck he wants, can play the henpecked husband while being the Thorn of Camorr, could be really fun and would do more for Nazca and also play up their friendship. It could make her death mean a lot more, if they were running their own little Barsavi con.

Anyhow, the really fantastic behind the scenes worldbuilding was how I wish more fantasy novels did it. It didn't often try to explain things to me, it spoke as if I mostly understood them, or had cahracters say them in ways that made sense to the story (In this capacity, Lukas Fehrwright is fucking BRILLIANT as Someone That Must Have Camorr Explained). So I didn't feel like I was being sat down and told the history of a place I barely know, while having stupid fucking vocabulary words thrown at me. We never define any physik or magic beyond what needs be done because fuck you that's why. I love it. Thank you for not telling me what alchemical botany can or can't do. Thank you for dropping literally only what I need to kjnow about wraithstone into the plot. You have a crown in heaven.

Or I know I said I wish it would have been more con-ny and less "kill the new mob boss" at the end there, but oh my fuck, how much did I love the whole job at the counting house. I SCREAMED. It was so good, I had no clue where it was going the whole time and I would never have gotten there, but I LOVED it. What a great time.

One...weakness, for me, I guess I'll say, is that lack of interiority makes it hard to really feel the weight of some things. We don't get enough about Galdo, Calo, or Bug to feel anything for them, and I knew Bug was dead from the time he showed up. Actually, I thought we were going to kill jean Tannen, because that was the only relationship REALLY laden with emotional weight in the book. Didn't bother me enough to not recommend the book, as I'm mostly recommending it on fun, but I did notice.

ANYWAY, uh...any specific questions I'm happy to take!

Unfortunately, this means that @verbforverb nabbed me again. So, I had a great time reading the book but at what cost

[kingwuko]

30

34

60

56

38

25

21

1

for the oc thing

i know its a lot i liked all the questions

AAAAHHH you wanted all of them here you go!!!

30. Your OTP gets to pick out each other's outfits; what is each wearing?

Y'all know Wu is getting Mako some pricey luxurious suit. Custom tailored. The works. Idk anything about fashion so I have no clue what it would actually look like but just. Super nice ya know. I think Mako would like Wu in something more casual and comfortable. I go back and forth on Mako's fashion sense, he's definitely got the cool guy casual look down in books 1 and 3 but that fucking crop top coat in season 2 lmao. I think he'd pick something straightforward and simple and functional for Wu and maybe it will have something fashionably questionable about it lol

34. Who's more likely to tell a dirty joke or story to make the other blush?

Wu. I know I hc Mako as being chill with his sexuality but Wu would just say something SO outlandish, I feel like, it might get Mako flustered, choke on a drink, etc

60. Who pulls the other closer when they’re sleeping?

Oh Mako definitely. He grew up sleeping on the streets with his brother he is attuned sleeping with another body, it's definitely an unconscious thing to make sure Wu is still there and safe.

56. What do they do turn the other on/put them in the mood?

I love my hc that Wu massages Mako's arm and I think it Does Things to Mako because he's not used to being doted on. And this might seem silly but I think Mako is showoff-y with his muscles for Wu. a little flexing and a wink is probably all it takes to get Wu going.

38. Who is more sexually experimental? Who's more vanilla?

This based COMPLETELY on the backstories I've crafted for them in Secret. so take it with a grain of salt. Mako is up for anything. Wu is more hesitant. I have reasons for this but the tldr is Mako grew up without shame regarding sex and Wu grew up with A LOT of shame. So it's not that he's vanilla exactly it's just hesitancy.

25. Do they have any hobbies they share?

Sure, they both like to read! They don't like to read the same things, but they'll be that old married couple sitting up with their reading glasses reading silently in bed before they go to sleep.

21. Who would get into a fight to defend the other's honor? Who tends to the other's wounds?

OK I know we're thinking 'Mako's the fighter here, he's the one who would get in a fight, right?' WRONG Mako will fight to defend Wu from physical danger but if we are talking defending the other's honor it's Wu. If someone insults Mako, Wu is ready to throw smoothies hands. And Wu doesn't know anything about first aid. He'd fuss over Mako if he's injured but he couldn't actually tend to his wounds. Mako knows all that first aid stuff he would take care of any injury Wu sustained.

Who would end a heated argument by defending their actions with ‘because I love you!’ ?

I think it's Wu that's basically canon anyway 'mako you know I love you' was right before a disagreement. I'm sure he'd end with an I love you if it was relevant too

[youwontlikethisblog]

Armando Mendoza: A Brief Analysis

Hey, how are you? It's been a while. This will be a lil update so if you want you can skip down to the [GREEN] to start with the post :)

It's been a hectic few months. I finally decided to stop setting it aside and get real about my writing and begun the tedious task of editing the final draft of my original manuscript. I'm a perfectionist(Although if we're considering my posts about YSBLF as an example of that, than you wouldn't expect it lol. I suppose that's what I get for writing post when I haven't had a lick of sleep and don't stop to take breaks while writing the posts and then, half brain dead, I sit down to "edit" the grammar). When it comes to something that truly means a lot to me I do not feel satisfied until it has reached my exact expectations. I've made a few updates on my writing and how it's been going. There's some exciting development on it but I want to wait a little more to be able to fully talk about it and share the news with y'all.

That being said; I still have not continued watching YSBLF since the last time I did a post about the show, y'know, life and all but without further ado, here is the post :)

Armando Mendoza: An Objective and A Not So Deep Dive

Now that I've had some time and space away from the show, I can look at the characters in a more objective manner. I've been considering a lot of things regarding them and I feel like this post might come right out of left field —seeing how I normally seem to "defend" Armando, or some might assume I do— and this post will most likely not do that. In reality, it won't. It'll rightfully so call him out.

See, the stark difference between Marcela and Armando, not personality wise, but writing wise, is that Marcela doesn't really have a backstory. Her past is pretty blurry and the very few clear images we get of it always paint her to be the exact same person. However with Armando his past, while also not clear, is more visible and a little bit more precise than hers. In the post I made for Marcela I wasn't as empathetic as I should have been.

Marcela's past is basically unknown and the very little information we do get doesn't paint her in the best of lights. However, that doesn't mean that she deserved or that what Armando was doing to her was okay. I should have said that in her post. I placed a lot of emphasis on the fact that while Marcela had a right to feel what she did, she didn't have a right to act the way she was. Feelings are valid, actions are not.

Well same goes for Armando.

Armando could have been dating a helicopter as a girlfriend, someone who was possessive and controlling of him, but that doesn't justify nor excuse his horrible behavior towards her. While yes, one could assume that his cheating had to do with his lack of control with life, it still doesn't justify or excuse it. Nothing, ever, justifies cheating.

As I said in the Marcela post: This isn't about her so I won't be explaining her reasoning, her behavior, her actions, or anything of those sorts, therefore, don't take it as me excusing her bad behavior. It's simply being mentioned.

With modern times come modern solutions. Nowadays it's very easy to be able to pick up your phone and google something, read a self-help book, find the root of your childhood trauma and even a therapist. Child development isn't easy to understand to the naked eye and you have to have years of experience on the subject to fully understand how point A gets to point B. I'm no expert of it, just done some basic research on certain topics of childhood trauma and such so while I might have some form of understanding, it's not an exactitude on the subject.

We can estimate that Armando had emotionally absent parents, witnesses how his parents turned their backs on his sister for falling in love with a poor man and the way the elite society they're a part of was about the whole subject. How do we draw to this conclusion?

His father doesn't even know what he went to college for or what he got his degree on. His mother coddles him, only when he acts to her standards, enables a horrible relationship that does not benefit neither her biological son or her basically-adopted daughter. Quite the contrary the show does a good job at showing the drastic parallels of Betty's relationship with her parents compared to Armando and his parents. Consider the fact that any time Armando is on screen with his parents they only talk about two things: His relationship with Marcela and the company.

They don't sound like the warmest of parents do they?

I talk a lot about being a writer and how knowing your characters IS one of the most crucial and important parts of developing your story. I mention this because when you write characters, fleshed out ones, you have at the very least an understanding of their past. Not an exact one, but an understanding in order to have them say the things they do and act the way they do.

Roberto was always cold towards Armando, from the very start. He clearly showed signs that he didn't very much care for him. He cared more about the company, his wife, Daniel, Marcela, Beatriz, and then, at the very end, Armando. With obvious reasons we understand why Roberto didn't trust Armando. It's always been told that he's always been a player, doesn't commit, and is immature, plus with the devil on his shoulder he calls a best friend, Armando isn't the most trustworthy.

Yet, that does not excuse Roberto's lousy father role in his son's life. Children need strong(by that I mean emotionally, physically, mentally, and spiritually present) male role models in their lives, especially father figures. I've said it before that it could be a possibility that Armando's childhood was very much with an emotionally distant father. This creates the perfect breeding ground for a child to constantly feel like they must excel in every part of their lives(perfectionism), have an anxious attitude, a fear of losing the love of their loved ones if they aren't excelling(low self-esteem), and other difficulties. Basically this ball of fear, resentment, anger, perfectionism, and anxiousness(being avoidant) . These issues on their own bring their separate problems that mixed together make for an unlikeable person. I don't know about you, but this sounds a lot like Armando.

Of course there's people who grew up with emotionally unavailable parents and grew up to be fully companionate, kind, loving, and wonderful people. That's the tricky thing about trauma, not one size fits all. Just because two people grew up the same doesn't mean they'll deal with it the same way.

Emotionally absent parents equal physically absent parents when it comes to their children's development.

His mother was the same, though, unlike Roberto, Margarita did love Armando and was present but very conditional with her love. You can have examples of this when Armando and Marcela would be fighting. She always took Marcela's side and pressured Armando to continue the relationship. She also guilted Marcela into staying with Armando. She was never there to comfort her son when he was at his lowest or even before. She was just only ever present in his life and made an effort to talk to him when it came to his engagement to Marcela. Plus, the whole causing Camila to divorce her husband and move to a different country fiasco.

Armando did a fine job of taking after his parents, as he is a perfect reflection of them.

There's one thing that Armando said that has ran laps around my brain for a while now; "I know I did things wrong, damnit I always do!" outside of el Meson.

He's aware of the things he does, even if it's at the heat of the moment, Armando is a self-aware jester, who never cared enough to change until he lost everything.

This change, while outside forces moved him to change, were not the reason why he changed. That's another message that is lost with this show.

Armando didn't change because he fell in love with Betty. Armando only learned to be brave enough to be the person he always aspired to be, because he fell in love. Doesn't matter who he fell in love with, he simply did. The love he received from Betty only taught him to be brave enough to love the same.

The same way Betty was naïve to how depraved any man can be, whether educated or not, rich, poor, or from a "high" society or lower class, Armando too was naïve to what was actually good and bad because he never really had parents that cared enough to teach him. Now this in no way frees Armando from accountability. Lets not forget that the whole point of his personality at the beginning of the story is that he sucks, and is a horrible man.

[TAKE A BREAK IF YOU NEED ONE.]

Sex addiction is a serious addiction. As I've mentioned before, in one of my earliest posts, that Armando shows to have signs of it but I'm no expert so I wouldn't say he does. For example, his affairs often cause issues in his relationship, his professional life, and for himself. While he's aware of all the risk that these affairs cause in his life, he still part takes in them! These are all signs that he has an addiction. However, I don't think that was the intent behind this part of his personality when he was being written, simply there to show how he was a Casanova of sorts.

These are all things I've already talked about in different posts but I wanted to dive a little bit deeper here in case some people haven't read those.

Let's get to the real juicy stuff now.

Armando's horrible, terrible, abusive, treatment of women.

Yeah Armando defended Aura, he wasn't a misogynist, and he didn't abuse his position of power nor assaulted any women(not talking about the constant harassment of Betty after she found the letter yet). Still, Armando was abusive.

He constantly manipulated women into believing he was serious about them just to use them, he gaslit —not only Marcela but all his side chicks— people in order to control a situation, and at times even got physical. Let's not forget the hair pulling, choking, and dragging of Karla, Marce, and Larson. Let's not forget Betty! While he never hit them, the way he acted, was not okay!

Armando was aggressive, he was controlling, and he was manipulative. God, he was awful!

There's no excuse or even a justification for him in this part.

While you can argue that his intentions weren't to harm those girls, he still did it. The moment they didn't behave to his standards, he removed his "love"(infatuation) from them. Does that sound similar to a pattern? like someone else? (Margarita).

However Marcela for this instance was a victim of his. His constant cheating made her so controlling, resentful, and bitter.

A cycle starts somewhere. Whether it be Marce being possessive from the get go of their relationship or Armando cheating first, somewhere the cycle began.

One thing I want to make clear is that both Marcela and Armando were abusive and victims of each other.

From the start of the novela Armando isn't a good person. He's horrible. However, he was meant to be charismatic, which would cause people to over-look those red flags.

There's a lot of sides to Armando's character and that's what makes him complex.

There's obvious reason as to why Armando, in a sense, has some redeeming qualities compared to the people he's surrounded by. You know, he feels remorse for the way he acts, especially towards Marce and Betty. He feels the pressure of not letting his parents down and the responsibility of keeping people employed. However, even if it's remorse, the problem always lays in the fact that he doesn't truly change.

In this half of the post I'm focusing more on his relationship with Marcela.

I've talked about reactionary abuse, toxic relationships, abusive tactics, and patterns in all of my posts regarding Armando and Marcela. I've explained in a simplified way and yet I feel like some people either reject the idea or only want to blame one party.

What makes Marcela and Armando's relationship toxic and not D.A. is that they both enable each other and their bad habits. See, even if Armando were the one that started the conflicts, Marcela also acts out abusively. Basically they up one another in any fight. As if saying "Oh so you're going to threaten to leave? Fine! Then I'll ruin your life! If you leave me it would be like losing my parents all over again." while the other responds with "Marrying you is simply a favor to you! If you speak up about this than the wedding is off!" get the idea?

Marcela enables Armando by acting out in her rage, further pushing him to act out in his cheating and gaslighting. Armando enables Marcela by his cheating and gaslighting. They both feed the cycle and reject any accountability for their actions.

What makes this drastically different in what a typical D.A situation in where the abused reacts abusive(aka mirrors their abuser) is that they BOTH switch sides. One moment Armando is the abuser, the one with the upper hand in the relationship and then, the next, Marcela is the one that is being abusive and in control. Often times they bounce off each other. It's not Armando constantly and only being the Abuser with Marcela mirroring him. They BOTH DO THIS.

However, at the very least, Armando at the end of the series took accountability and broke the cycle.

When you write two explosive and complex characters meant to be together you have to separate them from each other. By this I mean that Marcela is her own person away from Armando, just like Armando is his own person away from Marcela. Together, however, they are a volcanic eruption. While, for Marcela, this can translate to just being passionate and intense, for Armando it can be an absolute tragedy that must continue in order to keep every party of people in his life "happy" while in the end, at the very least, he has his affairs to give him something.

Together Armando and Marcela are a horrible duo because all they do is cause harm to one another. That's what makes their relationship toxic, not one sided abuse.

One can argue that the ONLY reason Marcela acted this way was because of Armando, meaning, if you remove the cause of the problem, the issue would be resolved, right?

Not entirely as we're often shown and told that Marcela is this way with everyone. She keeps up with public appearances for the sake of their elite society but she treats people outside of her economic class poorly, en fin she treats anyone that isn't to her standards poorly and inhumanly. What does this tell us? That she on her own is toxic and abusive so even if she were in a healthy relationship, her prejudice and expectations of things causes her to be this way.

Armando was a cause of the problems in the relationship! That's where the tricky part and what makes them complex, is.

We know that Armando and Marcela were basically forced to be together, or groomed. From a young age all they've heard is how they must be together to unite the families, how her dead parents wanted that more than anything. That's placing a lot of pressure on two people.

However, even if this were the case(which it is) Armando's go about and treatment of Marcela was not okay. For the sake of this post let's say that Armando is the reason Marcela is the way she is(meaning we ignore her personality all together). He caused her to be possessive, controlling, toxic, and cold. Marcela was once a kind and sweet person who did nothing but show devotion and adoration for him, and Armando's constant cheating and lying pushed her to be this way.

Armando could have handled it a lot better. If he felt obligated to be with Marcela from the get go, he could have at the very least, like the very minimum treated her as a human being, and not cheated. That's the very least she deserved.

Obviously, we don't know how the start of their relationship was like. All we know is that when they got engaged that he made a promise to Marcela to be faithful and that Marcela knew about the affairs. We know that Armando and Marcela at least had somewhat of a "happy" relationship, despite the affairs and fights they'd get into. (Which this on it's own establishes that Marcela was fully aware of Armando's unfaithfulness before their engagement, that and his promises to be faithful show us that it's been a problem for years.)

Let's consider this; If Armando fell for Betty when she was ugly SIMPLY because of the adoration and devotion she had for him, why didn't he do that with Marcela at the start?

Had she held this devotion and adoration for Armando from the start it would imply that Armando would have fallen for her, same way he did with Betty, and therefore Marcela would have never turned out to be the way she did, right?

Let's be honest here. That's the sole reason why Armando even began to have some sort of confused emotions towards Betty. It made him feel good, boosted his pride and ego, and tide with the fact he trusted her, he liked Betty. So if Marcela would have been the same way at the start, don't you think Armando would have felt the same? Therefore he wouldn't had cheated on Marcela?

Again, that sounds like I'm solely blaming Marcela for the dissolvement of their relationship but I'm not.

Armando is part/responsible for Marcela's possessiveness in their relationship and there's no excuse for it.

What is cheating and why do people cheat?

Cheating can range from emotional intimacy with another person that isn't your partner to physical. The physical can range from simple hand holding to full blown intercourse.

(source: https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/why-do-people-in-relationships-cheat/#:~:text=The%20participants%20admitted%20to%20cheating,desire%2C%20and%20situation%20or%20circumstance.)

In the article linked as a source it mentions that most partners cheat due to a lack of validation, love, or due to neglect in their relationship. What does this tell us?

While cheating is not a valid response to whatever is a lack in a relationship, there's always a valid reason the person feels the way they do. Let me say that again. Cheating is not valid, but the emotions of the person who is cheating, are. Cheating is not valid, but emotions are. What does this mean? (Unless we're talking about a narcissistic abuser. In that case, no. They are not valid) This is overall just a an idea of why cheating occurs in otherwise "healthy" relationships.

If you feel like your relationship lacks validation, love, neglectful, abusive, or there's no spark or desire: LEAVE or go to couple's therapy and work on it with your partner(EXCEPT FOR THE ABUSIVE ONE. LEAVE! LEAVE! LEAVE! LEAVE! There is help for you.).

Emotions are valid, actions are not. A person's feelings are valid but that does not excuse nor justify cheating.

While Armando's cheating was a huge reason why they had fights and arguments, there had to be a reason why he cheated in the first place and while his emotions were valid, his actions were not.

His cheating could have very well begun at the start of the relationship feeling as if he had no real control over his life because of his parents persistent push for him to be with Marcela, which means it had nothing to with Marcela, everything to do with his parents, and ultimately this caused Marcela to be so possessive. Or it could have simply been Marcela who was like that from the start because she too had to deal with the ever guilting of Margarita's "this is what your parents always wanted, for you two to be together and unite the families." In all honesty the real villain of this show is Margarita.

Yes, their relationship was a paradox of sorts. If they broke up, Armando would lose the presidency, the company would dissolve, his parents would hate him, and he'd be a failure. Marcela wouldn't have really lost anything except Armando.

We can go with the 'could have' and 'should have' or 'what if's', but at the end of the day all we've got is what is actually canon in the show and not just speculation.

A few weeks ago I saw this video on my IG feed of FG talking about the ending of YSBLF. He said he didn't give them their happily ever after, since Armando was Betty's executioner(verdugo).

If the writer himself is saying that Armando wasn't all that amazing, I suppose that means he wasn't.

Yes, Armando went through a redemption arc but even then, Armando wasn't the best person. He was simply a better version of himself. He learned to be honest, to view people as his equals, women as humans and not properties, and to be selfless and caring, that's a huge difference from the Armando from the beginning but Armando was still neurotic. He was still a control freak, and was prone to his anger outburst.

However, this is realistic! Armando didn't change to be the perfect man that was deserving of Betty. He came to be real. He had his traumas and he was healing from them. The love of Betty didn't fix him, contrary, when she stopped showing a pure love towards him, osea, removed her love from him, Armando had no other choice but to LEARN to love properly. In order to do that, he needed to revaluate himself, his goals, his life, and what had pushed him to such a low point in his life and the ironic thing is that Armando's low point wasn't him drunk and suicidal at the bar that night. Armando's low point was the moment he agreed to manipulate Betty in order to retain her devotion and the company.

The downfall of Armando began the moment the novela started. It was a slow trickling drip from the throne he believed he deserved for simply existing and just as that, so was Marcela's.

Unlike with Betty, who was basically seduced to be bad, Armando and Marcela's downfall began from the very beginning.

So many people dismiss the abysmal abuse that was plain in the novela when it's the women acting out this way but are quick to crucify any male who acts the same way.

Now, I'm not saying Armando was only a victim of circumstance because that's not true. If I believed anyone was a victim to circumstance I'd say it was Marcela or Betty.

Why?

Because Armando, with chest puffed in pride, cleared headed, and sober CHOSE to manipulate these women. That's the abhorrent part of his character. That above all he always wanted to save his own skin and while his feelings were complex as to why, at the very end of it, he didn't want to deal with the repercussions.

While Armando wanted to be good, to prove he could be good, to himself, Marcela, and his parents, there lacked a true conviction in him. He felt like he needed to be good in order to have his parents love and approval and one of those things was that he also marry Marcela but he didn't feel inspired to be good.

There's a difference between knowing what's good, wanting to do good, and feeling inspired to be good. See, with inspiration comes motivation and with motivation comes action.

Writing complex characters means that good motives are acted out wrong. It means that bad motives are disguised as good acts. Not fully good, not entirely evil.

When you get to know your characters the rest of the story comes to you naturally and by that I mean that the actions they take, the words they speak, how they are, kind of rolls out of you naturally. You need to know your characters before you sit down to write your story.

Armando's actions are horrible. He was abusive but he was also a victim and I know someone is probably wondering "well why aren't you talking about the way he was towards Betty when she found the letter?" and that's simple.

Armando perfectly mirrored Marcela and Betty perfectly mirrored Armando.

I mentioned this in the Marcela Valencia post but I'll try and talk a bit more about it here.

Armando's constant abuse and violation of Betty is an exact mirroring of Marcela, however, he still chose to act this way knowing that instead of drawing Betty closer to him, that he'd push her further away and while in moments of lucidness Armando attempted to resolve the issues he had with Betty in a calm manner, she wasn't on the same page.

Armando chased Betty all over the place, threw jealousy fits, and forced himself onto her. Marcela did the exact same to him.

However, here's the tricky part of it.

Betty.

Betty was the perfect mirror of Armando. She lied to him, manipulated him, and "cheated" on him. The same way he was towards Marcela.

Obviously this is a simplified version of it but it's the same thing at the end of the day.

Had Betty never acted this way, would Armando have treated her the way he had?

To a lesser degree, I do think so.

I think he would have manipulated her and that he would have thrown some jealousy fit here and there.

See the thing is that if Betty had never given him a taste of his own medicine Armando would have never changed. No matter how much he wanted to or how badly he was in love with Betty.

Armando, to his core, was a coward. That's what he was in the story. Due to this he resorted to manipulation and cheating.

While some of his actions were due to some sort of trauma or the fear of rejection, and came from a place of hurt and self-preservation, Armando still acted wrong.

At least at the end Armando took accountability for his actions and somewhat changed his ways. Was he deserving of getting the girl? Not entirely but was Betty deserving of getting Armando? Not entirely and see that's the problem with writing romance.

Often times the most important bit of the story is cut out because "people don't want to see the reconciliation, they just want to hear about it. "

From what I know, Betty never took accountability for the way she treated Armando after she found the letter and this I will later discuss whenever I get around to watching YSBLF and write a post about the episode but in simpler words: Betty chose to exact revenge on Armando and yes, her emotions were so valid! but her actions were not!

Betty treated Armando the exact same way Armando treated Marcela.

Lastly, I've said Armando is a complex character from the start and while that may be true, this complexity does not excuse his horrible behavior because complexities never do.

Well, I hope y'all enjoy this long over due post, and I apologize for the long hiatus on the YSBLF breakdown posts.

Also, again, sorry if there's any grammar mistakes, I'm working on it! Lol.

'Til next time :)

[febuary30thday]

Drabble

If y'all don't know, I'm a self-insert y/n girl, and this just randomly came to me when I was re-reading the demon slayer manga's final battle arc, so I had to write it down. This is from my Spirit Hashira Y/N book. It's a yandere story and I'm just planning it out, but before I do that, I'm planning out her backstory. This is a rough draft. [Name] P.O.V I had really great parents. And a great twin brother. His name was Hiyashi. Hiyashi Kemuri. We were happy, even if we were rice farmers. I liked washing the rice and making dinners. I didn't mind being less fortunate than others, because I was happy. I could hear the voice of gods, I knew that. But the gods told me not to tell anyone. I could see spirits as well, but I didn't talk to them, because they looked scary to me as a child. Their mangled bodies, soulless eyes, and just the air of death they carried, was scary to me. But then, tragedy struck, and my family was killed by demons. I was the only one left alive, because I passed out, and the demons assumed I was dead, just like my family. I was 9, only 9 at the time. When I awoke, it was morning, and the demons were gone. I was found by Demon Slayers, and I was adopted by an old wealthy couple. I didn't have any siblings when I was with them, and they treated me right. I changed my name to Kaneko, and I was [Name] Kaneko. It was hard to get over my family's death, but I was happy with my new family. I even had a man to marry, so life was going well for me. I learned how to sew, how to arrange flowers, how to play musical instruments, and how to dance. I especially like reading and going outside to watch the fish swim around. But, again, the universe doesn't like seeing me happy. My parents and my fiance died because of demons. I had lost everyone I loved to demons, again. It was hard. It felt as if all the death in the world was meant for me. I was angry, then sad, then nothing. I was numb. I couldn't feel anything. I was 18. The gods told me that if I didn't want others to suffer like I did, I should become a Demon Slayer. They granted me with strength and speed to take down demons. I could still see spirits, and with enough training, I become a Demon Slayer.

I liked being a Hashira. It gave me the happiness that I needed. Thank you, guys, for giving me happiness. Thank you, Hashira. Thank you, Master, and Lady Amane. Thank you, spirits. Thank you, Mother, Father. Thank you all, for being my saviors. In return, live while you still can. I've lived for far too long anyway, so you should live. Goodbye, guys, and please remember, everyone of you should stay alive and live, for me, and for the Demon Slayer Corps. For the Master, and for all you've saved. Thank you, everyone, and goodbye, for good.

[tired-reader-writer]

Arslan Senki Reread

Guess who's rereading ArSen from the start again? That's right, 'tis me!!

How many times has it been?

I love ArSen too much to give a shit, really.

Anyways anyways, I'll just be documenting the little tidbits that catch my eye.

Kharlan's face, lol. He's like, “dude, you're still at it??”

Have I not seen you before— oh.

Went to check and yep, tis the same guy. (screencap taken from chapter 7)

...should I start keeping an eye out for unnamed background characters to see if they're recurring? I can't say I'm not tempted...

Ooooh so palace servant uniforms do have embellishments! Interesting!

Don't his helmet looonlike a bird here? I wonder if it's reference to anything, just as I wonder about Bahman's family seal. Hm.

The inside of Andragoras' tent! Reading Otoyomegatari gave me a newfound appreciation of these things so... here, have it. It could be writing reference!

Smol and somft. Man. Contrast this to Daryun in chapter 120.

Get you a man who can do both.

Just putting this here for reference.

Reading the first battle of Atropatene after chapter 121 just. Gives it all a new sort of weight— not that it wasn't horrific the first time around, but the half-decayed corpses in the pit from chapter 121 really really got to me. They emphasized the horror even more and looking at the battle now, I'm surprised the ones who fell in the pit still have any corpse to decay after... that. It's also entirely possible that the bodies of those who died outside the pit also got thrown in there.

The fact that they're brought up again in such a manner after all this time... Arakawa refuses to let them be just the backstory or inciting incident. Human lives lost, and they will be remembered. That's the sort of feel I got from all that. Damn effective at utilizing them and this event, Arakawa. Good job.

Moving on from that, though—

Ha! Kubard and Daryun casually chatting in the midst of a deadly battle goes way, way back! Reminds me of that one fanart of younger Kubard, Kishward, and Daryun sitting by a fire at night— in armor so they must've been on a campaign— that I saw way back.

Reached the image limit, I'm still like halfway through chapter 3, that'll be it for the post.

Actually, if y'all want, let's do a read-along! You guys can bring up stuff that you wanna talk about too.

[weirdcrocodilelady]

hey!! saw you asking for arthur x reader prompts. i’m sorry if this isn’t what you were really looking for but could you do something more platonic? like arthur being a bit of a father figure for reader :)

I actually think about Harrow as a father (or father figure) a lot...I think he'd be really good at it. He talks to that teenage girl in Episode 2 and she seems really comfortable with him, and it makes me think he probably takes a personal interest in all his followers, regardless of age, and really has that special set of "people skills" that lets him manipulate form close relationships fairly easily. I mean, he's a cult leader. They're kind of known for that...

...But putting aside the cult stuff for now, here's some nice wholesome headcanons:

If he had a "kid" kid (meaning under 18), I think he would definitely homeschool them. He kind of toes the line between wanting to control their learning and be aware of what they're up to at all times, but also having a sincere desire to nurture their interests and let them learn at their own pace without the restrictions of grades, standardized tests, etc. So god forbid he catches his kid reading smutty fanfic that isn't appropriate for their age, he might instead help them find reading material that's more age appropriate but that they still find interesting, and maybe even help them write their own stories. (it's called redirecting, y'all)

I think he would be more restrictive when it comes to their social activities, unfortunately. His worst fear would be for their scales to not balance, so he doesn't let them hang out with anyone who might pressure them to do things that might affect that balance. The hard part of that is, Ammit doesn't exactly offer a handbook detailing what specific activities affect a person's scales, and a kid going to the mall with their friends unsupervised will probably not do anything evil, but why risk it, right?

I have no idea where this came from, but I have this random headcanon that he doesn't trust doctors? So he'd take his kid to get checkups and vaccines and everything only because there isn't really a safe alternative, but he'd be very reluctant and it would probably be one of the rare times he actually appears nervous or anxious to other people. Other than that, he relies on alternative medicines as much as possible and is kind of a genius at that stuff. (Again, this is a REALLY random headcanon that came to me out of nowhere one day, so feel free to take or leave it)

Part of my general backstory for him involves him being really poor for a lot of his life, then ending up with a lot of money due to getting wealthy "backers" on his side when he started the Ammit Club (I decided a while back that Billy Fitzgerald is a millionaire, again, I have no idea where these headcanons are coming from). So if you lived with him when he was younger, money would have been tight and there probably wouldn't have been many luxuries. But he would make things special for you whenever he could. I imagine he's very creative in the kitchen (he had Victor's recipe that one time, but who's to say he couldn't whip up his own unique lentil soup on a whim if he wanted?) and could make all kinds of delicious meals with even the most seemingly random ingredients.

He expects all his followers to help maintain the community as much as they're able to, and it would be the same for those he considers family. But he's not one of those leaders/parental figures who just gives a command and expects you to understand how to do it without any instruction. If someone is new, or younger, or doesn't seem to understand the task, he would explain more clearly or demonstrate, whatever kind of help you needed. He would also give you tips on doing your work more efficiently or easily, if it seems like you're getting bogged down or discouraged. You can come to him with literally anything you're having trouble with, even if it seems like a really simple task that you "should" be able to complete with no problem. He's incredibly patient and a great teacher/mentor.

I fully believe the majority of his physical touches are genuine, and I think touch is probably his love language. Even though he also uses touch to manipulate people into trusting him, he knows that method works for a reason. If you don't like being touched, or you're not comfortable with it at a certain time, you'd have to tell him because his instinct is to reach out and hug you when you're upset. But once you've told him, you'll never have to tell him a second time. He can be perfectly respectful of boundaries when he wants to be (i.e. when the person isn't standing in the way of him springing his goddess free).

I hope this is the kind of thing you were looking for...again, some of these are pretty specific headcanons I made up, so you can take or leave those if you want😅

Thanks for the ask!!!

[not-joan-of-arc]

heaven official's blessing (pt. 2)

(finished reading on April 1 2022)

my unedited annotations for books four and five (SPOILERS AHEAD):

BOOK FOUR

been too busy to read for the past few days but I'm super excited to dive back into this - that being said, I'm still scared of this book ending

and so we return to the past!!

okay so Xie Lian's already been banished? ngl I was kind of hoping to see the actual banishment because I'm still confused as to why exactly he was banished??

also it's weird because the Xie Lian of the past is vastly different from present him but you can also very clearly see how he became the way he is today

ah yes now we know exactly where Xie Lian's poison-cooking-specialty originates from lol

okay Mu Qing is being kind of a dick in leaving Xie Lian but also he's got a valid point, and I kinda sympathise with him?

oh fuck me it's Hua Cheng?? I knew he would be in this book somehow!!

“I want to protect them.” - no but this is his unfulfilled wish that ties him to the mortal realm?? like he just wants to protect Xie Lian, that's so pure and wow I'm actually going to start crying now

I hope one day to find someone who loves me as much as Hua Cheng loves Xie Lian, even if its just in a platonic way

‘“If you remain forcibly, you won’t be able to rest in peace,” Xie Lian said.

The nameless ghost didn’t seem to care. “I pray to never rest in peace.”’

no but this whole scene with Xie Lian and little ghost Hua Cheng is like the foundation of their current relationship - Hua Cheng protecting Xie Lian without ever speaking a word to him of it, suffering to keep his heart to himself

so Hua Cheng died in the war, that makes sense

wait what?? Xie Lian actually cooked something edible?? maybe his cooking skills are a plot device after all

oh so this is when Feng Xin gets all wifed up

no but you really feel the second-hand embarassment when Xie Lian is caught trying to rob someone, like he's really fallen from that gracious and honorable Crown Prince of the past

yo someone help this boy, he is literally having multiple panic attacks and has very severe PTSD and also probably depression, like boy needs some therapy stat

but tbf, that's all characters in every mxtx adaptation rip

okay but ghost fire Hua Cheng is genuinely adorable

oh so these are the thirty-three heavenly officials Hua Cheng becomes famous for killing - of course his reason for doing so was Xie Lian! I should have realised that sooner considering everything Hua Cheng does is for Xie Lian

“But, this hand had reached out too late.”

I think White No-Face's obsession with Xie Lian is because he is the Crown Prince of Wuyong who suffered a terrible fate and he wants Xie Lian to suffer likewise and join him so he won't be alone anymore

the one instance where Feng Xin and Mu Qing are actually getting along and it's Xie Lian who drives them apart, how ironic - I keep trying to make myself like Mu Qing and like, I understand why he does what he does but I still don't like him - Feng Xin though is my boi

I'm beginning to understand why book four is the most tragic and hardest-to-read section in the whole book

no but it makes sense?? killing makes you immune to the human face disease

oh fuck no I think I know what's about to happen

Xie Lian...what are they doing to you

fuck me but he is without a doubt the character with the most tragic backstory ever to exist

SOMEBODY FUCKING SAVE HIM

how painful this must be for Hua Cheng too seeing the love of his life bear so much pain and be unable to do anything about it

Xie Lian you need to tell Feng Xin what happened to you or you're going to lose him too

“It’s not like I’m a god, can’t I be angry? Can’t I hate?”

I understand why Feng Xin leaves but also fuck you Feng Xin! can't you see how much torment your best friend is in? can't you see that he's too broken to be left alone

wait the King and Queen have actually hanged themselves?

no okay this is too fucking much don't y'all leave Xie Lian alone like this, he doesn't deserve to be tormented like thus, he doesn't deserve any of this

Ruoye!! and now I understand what Xie Lian meant when he talked about forging his spiritual device with Pei Ming - I knew it would be tragic but never this tragic

he's on the verge of becoming the white-faced calamity isn't he?

Hua Cheng to the rescue!! and now I understand all the fan art of Hua Cheng in a smiling face mask

or maybe not Hua Cheng to the rescue? curiouser and curiouser

Xie Lian has definitely got something up his sleeve as always but it still hurts to watch him be so broken and in pain

and now we have the story behind the bamboo hat

Hua Cheng!!

ahh why do they both go through so much pain?? and because they're soulmates they feel each other's pain too - my heart -

I read a post that said all that happens to Xie Lian makes him “desensitised” to everything and that's exactly what it is - he bears so much pain and suffering and humiliation in such a short span of time that eight hundred years later present day Xie Lian just does not give a fuck about anything anymore, like he's reached the lowest it is posible to ever go and can go no lower and like my heart is in pieces for him but at the same time he's such a fucking icon

the truth behind his second banishment

and thus we have present day Xie Lian in all his adorableness, except now we know his full story

the only big mystery left now is his third ascension I think

now onto book five as we return to Mount Tongl'u

BOOK FIVE

I don't this even needs to be said but I loathe White No-Face with every inch of my being okay

no but its actually hilarious that Hua Cheng carved a inhumanly big statue of Xie Lian out of a literal mountain, like my man is whipped

the real question is why is Hua Cheng a ghost king and not a world-famous artist and sculptor?? like he should have his own museum and not be running the ghost version of las vegas lol

it's also hilarious how though all the gods supposedly find Xie Lian strange they're all still willing to do whatever he says, like Quan Yizhen and even Pei Ming

haha I knew Pei Ming totally ships it

its only been like a few hours since Hua Cheng and Xie Lian properly kissed with no pretensions (and they haven't even properly confessed their love yet - though they don't really need to to be honest lol) but I'm absolutely living for these casual displays of love, like Hua Cheng giving Xie Lian a forehead kiss makes me feel so warm and happy

I was wondering when Shi Quingxan would show up again - ngl, was not expecting this reunion though

absolutely love the fact that Xie Lian can quite easily kiss Hua Cheng in front of everyone when it's a high-stakes situation but gets flustered by kissing his cheek when they're completely alone, Xie Lian is just too adorable

Jun Wu is White No-Face?? what the fuck....

I thought Jun Wu was kind of sus but not to this extent

no I don't want Yin Yu to die, he's genuinely one of my faves and deserves so much better than he got

yasss we stan Lord Rain Master!!

hmm I wonder if Mu Qing's interrogation has anything to do with what Hua Cheng heard him and Feng Xin arguing about on Mount Tongl'u

I mean Hua Cheng isn't wrong, the two of them really have zero self-preservation instincts lol

yes finally, we're going to get the full story!

so Jun Wu/White No-Face has basically been manipulating everything from the very beginning? damn - and I thought Mengyao in mdzs was a psychopath, this is just on a whole other level

Guoshi ships it!! he's definitely confused about where all the gay came from though lol

I'm screaming Guoshi is definitely trying (and failing) to give Xie Lian some sex ed

this whole battle seems like some sort of crack dream

okay but Guoshi is actually the best

Guoshi referring to Quan Yizhen as a ‘fluffy child’ is the peak of hilarity

not Guzi!

this Hua Cheng is He Xuan isn't it

not gonna lie, I kinda ship General Pei and the Rain Master

Hua Cheng already imagining having a child with Xie Lian - I can't, that's too adorable

final battle approaches

Hua Cheng wanting to make a good impression on his boyf's ‘dad’

come on Xie Lian, you're so good at sussing out every other gods mysteries but you can't even figure out all Hua Cheng has done for you? you're so fucking obtuse at times

Hua Cheng thinking that Xie Lian was going to stab himself again - my heart - and then being reminded of when Xie Lian was stabbed by a hundred swords but Xie Lian just laughing it off - ahhh why did they have to go through so much pain

I think Feng Xin is slowly coming to the understand the depth of trust and love and mutual respect that is Hua Cheng and Xie Lian's relationship - he's definitely not against it now at the very least

also glad we're finally getting some character growth from Mu Qing, after 800 years

so this is the truth of Mu Qing and honestly, I can't really say I dislike him so much anymore, like I understand where he's coming from

he's still a dumbass for not realising that Xie Lian genuinely did want to be friends all this time though, but then again, if I met someone as good as Xie Lian I would be a little skeptical too lol

this whole scene is low-key hilarious, they're both dumbasses

scratch that, all three of them - Xie Lian, Mu Qing and Feng Xin - they're all dumbasses

‘Xie Lian responded, “IF THEIR ENTIRE FAMILIES ALL LOOK LIKE THAT, YOU SURE YOU WANT TO FUCK THEM??”’- I'm crying

okay now I'm starting to understand where all the shipping of Feng Xin and Mu Qing comes from, this whole bit with Feng Xin carrying Mu Qing and them bickering is kind of adorable

Mu Qing and Feng Xin definitely give the vibe of Xie Lian's brothers who don't really approve of Xie Lian's boyf in the first place but still don't want him to be harmed for the sake of Xie Lian - I actually love their friendship okay, however much history they have between them all

and now we get the rest of Hua Cheng's story!! I'm so ready for this

no fucking way - so Hua Cheng could have been a god??

he definitely chose the ghost life for the aesthetic lol

I love the trope when couples fight together as a team, like all the wordless communication and synchronisation

‘Because he wasn’t as good as Hua Cheng thought him to be.’

that's the thing though, Hua Cheng has seen every bit of Xie Lian and knows that he's imperfect, he understands him and sees him for who he is - Xie Lian, don't you understand? Hua Cheng cares about none of it, all he cares about is you, its all he's ever cared about

‘“Your Highness, don’t be afraid. Remember? The one basking in infinite glory is you; the one fallen from grace is also you. What matters is ‘you’, and not the state of you. No matter what’s happened in the past, I will never leave you. You can tell me anything.”’

nooo not ruoye!! :(

‘He couldn’t help but wonder—perhaps, to be defeated by someone, to end these relentless days of brokeness and madness, was possibly Jun Wu’s wish deep down.’

Xie Lian you are truly one of a kind - “shattering boulders on chest” lmao

‘All of a sudden, thousands of emotions, millions of words swarmed into his head. There was gratefulness, there was shame, there was heartache, there was wild joy, but above all else, there was incurable love.’

fucking finally!! it's taken Xie Lian way too long to realise the truth lol

‘Hua Cheng said quietly, “Your Highness, I understand your everything. Your courage, your despair; your kindness, your pain; your resentment, your hate; your intelligence, your foolishness. If I could, I would have you use me as your stepping stone, the bridge you take apart after crossing, the corpse bones you need to trample to climb up, the sinner who deserved the butchering of a million knives. But, I know you wouldn’t allow it.”

He said all this as the maple red of his robes slowly faded away.’

fuck me they better have a happy ending after all that or I'm going to scream

Jian Lan and Feng Xin deserved better, they all deserved so much better

I love how every little story arc is getting some sort of resolution as we near the end

‘Hua Cheng waited for him for over eight hundred years, so what did it matter if he waited for Hua Cheng for another eight hundred more? It could be a thousand years, ten thousand years, and he would still wait, and continue to wait.’

‘A smile hung on Xie Lian’s face, thinking, he wasn’t the only one who had fallen.’ - but I'm also bawling

‘Last time, they spent eight hundred years running towards each other. This time, it only took an instant to fall into each other’s embrace.’

final chapter let's go!! but also I don't want this to end

love that they've returned to Puqi shrine it's so wholesome

I'm screaming - this definitely means Hua Cheng and Xie Lian have already slept together lol - and Feng Xin and Mu Qing are just there like ‘we really didn't need to know that’

the elusive He Xuan??

I am living for domestic HuaLian

“I am forever your most devoted believer.”

---

after finishing the book:

screaming crying laughing I can't believe its over

this was a genuine masterpiece

also reading the post-script I think MXTX is legitimately a genius like wow, I aspire to be as talented as she is

(rated 5 stars)

---

my annotation system

[powerpolyculeshowdown]

I really hope i'm not being annoying but i got no other place to rant about this but responing to some of the things you said about the yuurivoice thing: regardless of polyamory or not the trios relationship is unconventional (and the two boys canonicly queer on account of being each others exes) regardless.

I mean welcoming your (meaning listener's) boyfriend's ex-boyfriend into your lives like that and caring about and loving him like that, regardless of that love being romantic or not and regardless of if they (the boys) would ever officially start dating again is still not the most standard situation.

They boys will always love each other in one way or another after all they've been through together.

The ex has explicitly said he loves listener and their boyfriend (his ex) like, twice now.

And there was a moment were the ex and the boyfriend had a emotional moment about some plot relevant/backstory stuff (basically about the ex's mom and his relationship with her, where he also refers to listener and the boyfriend as finally having people that love him unconditionally in his live) together and at the end of it the ex asks wether "loving y'all so damn much" has to end and the boyfriend reassured him that he cares about him and that "sugar (referring to the listener) is pretty sweet on you (refferering to the ex) too" but that they "don't need to wrap there heads around all that right now" The important part is that he's not gonna "end up feeling like a third wheel" and then they all go to sleep cuddling together, the boyfriend teasing the ex the next morning about how he cuddled with the listener the ex stuttering that it wasn't like a thing or anything and the boyfriend responding with a sarcastic "oh, never that"

And like later on another character literally refers to both the listener and the ex as the boyfriends "partners" like i really don't know what more anyone could want at this point, like?!

He has said himself in streams, ambiguity and all that aside, it isn't exactly subtle with all these moments either and he's well aware of that and he seems to like writing it like that.

reading all of this reminds me of the time ppl called crowley and aziraphale "queebaiting" cause they never kissed even tho neil gaiman himself said they're in love, but they arent gay because they're like agender beings and i think asexual too i dont remember point it

just cause its different from what u expect doesnt mean its not queer and it definitely doesnt mean its baiting.

all ur saying sounds like even if the relationship between the ex and the boyfriend/listener isnt romantic it could very easily be read as a qp? and that can still be polyam if they see it that way, even without the use of the word polycule. "yeah u love both of us and we both love you and you're not just a third wheel" hows that baiting?????? leaving it up to interpretation for the listener is not the same as teasing an audience w smth u know wont happen and u will deny if asked about it. im putting the term queerbaiting in a really tall shelf and those ppl arent allowed to use it until they learn what it means and learn about queer representation in history

[snotsloth]

So, I got into a discussion with someone on the NaNo forums about pacing in a novel and what I learned about it during my English degree. Being a normal person who knows how to write a reasonable response to a simple question, I wrote this whole ass essay about how to speed up or slow down the pacing in a story. Then I realized what I had written was actually pretty decent advice, so now y'all also have to put up with me rambling about narrative pacing. You're welcome/I'm sorry.

Slowing down a Plot

Easiest way to slow down a story? Have your characters slow down. Take a breather. Maybe someone is injured. Maybe they have to wait on something else to happen before they take action. Maybe they just need a cup of coffee. Giving your characters a moment to step away from the plot and reflect can give your readers a bit of breathing space as well.

A great example of this comes to mind from Pride and Prejudice. Elizabeth goes on vacation with some relatives. It gets her away from the chaos of her family and all the drama and she has a chance to really think about everything that’s gone on with Mr. Darcy. This of course ultimately leads to her relatives asking if she would like to tour his estate, not knowing that this was the wealthy man whose proposal she had recently rejected. But the beginning of the trip feels like a little intermission where she has a chance to breathe and recenter herself.

On a smaller scale, elements like setting descriptions, inner monologues, exposition, or dialogue that is more focused on characters’ feelings vs. the mechanics of the plot can also slow down your story and give it room to breathe. I think back fondly to those long overwrought descriptions of feasts in the Redwall books from when I was a kid. They didn’t have much if anything to do with the plot usually, but they were fun, loving descriptions of food, merriment, and characters having a little time to show their lighter sides. But boy howdy did they go on forever and slow the pace of the story down!

Another more highbrow example of slowing the pacing would be soliloquies in Shakespearean drama. I’m thinking of Hamlet in particular. In the middle of all the chaos, political machinations, and personal strife, it’s easy to lose the thread of the plot if you’re not careful. You find yourself wondering, what on earth is this all for, what is going on in this man’s head? And then he steps out on stage alone and just tells you exactly what is going through his head (or is he?). Either way, Hamlet’s soliloquies throughout the play function as way-points, slowing everything down and giving both Hamlet and us a few minutes to think about what’s going on and why. Your characters’ inner monologues or conversations with others can be used to similar effect.

Speeding Up a Plot

Honestly, I still find this harder to do than the reverse, especially in a first draft like most of us are working on this month. However, there are also some basics you can think through if you feel like your story is dragging.

The first rule for speeding up a plot is the oft repeated -and oft hated- adage, “Murder your darlings.” Speeding up a plot often requires cutting the parts of your manuscript that you spent the most time on; backstory, world-building, extraneous dialogue about feelings that doesn’t move the plot forward, etc. Get rid of any passages that are standing between your reader and the plot that aren’t necessary to understanding said plot. I remember reading somewhere that, “Your readers don’t care about the coinage system in your fantasy world, but they do care that your characters don’t have enough money to bribe the guards to get into the city.” Or something to that effect. Basically, only explain what you need to and move on.

Along those lines, I’ll repeat another writing advice cliche, “Show. Don’t tell.” If there’s a way to explain something through the action of your story, do it that way. For example, I could write, “Amelia felt sad because she missed her dog.” Or I could write, “No click of claws across the tile greeted Amelia as she walked through the door.” Even though the second sentence is technically longer, it demonstrates Amelia’s feelings through the action of the story. This keeps the pace up and active, instead of passive and turned inward.

When all else fails, especially in a first draft, just skip over sections that are not integral to the plot. Just stick a note in brackets or something else that says, “idk they went and had dinner then came back.” Maybe you’ll write a dinner scene later if you decide it feels right, or you may just mention they had dinner and then get right back to whatever is more important to the story.

When to Focus on Pacing

Ultimately, pacing can be hard to get right on a first pass, so don’t get discouraged if it feels like your novel is dragging or if it’s moving too swiftly this early in the process. You can always circle back later. Plus, you won’t get a good feel for the overall pacing of your story until you have an entire first draft in front of you.

However there is one thing to be careful of while writing a first draft, and that is letting yourself get too bogged down in the details and losing interest in your own story. If that starts to happen, take a break from the current passage you’re writing and just go write a scene later in the story that excites you more. You can always figure out the connective tissue later.

Pacing can be a really subjective thing and hard to get a feel for, but reading a wide variety of books, trying different types of native styles, and doing multiple drafts of your own story will help you get a feel for what works best for you. The most important thing is to keep working at it and keep trying new things until you find something that works for you. Thank you for reading this giant spontaneous essay, and best of luck this month!