#making character posts at 2 am yet again

[emcapi-gaming]

Fort9

Arkose definitely liked video games as a kid, before they lost too much motor control in their fingers to reliably hit the buttons.

We will say, for the purpose of this combination character study post + shitpost, that Solution 9 has a game very similar to Fortnite.

Arkose played Fort9 for a grand total of one day.

...and then they could barely sleep that night because something about the way the map shrank over time scared the everloving shit out of them, and they couldn't explain why.

They have recurring stress nightmares for years afterwards about the dome shrinking.

[layton-heritage-posts]

Layton Heritage Post

yeah

[physalian]

How to make your writing sound less stiff

Just a few suggestions. You shouldn’t have to compromise your writing style and voice with any of these, and some situations and scenes might demand some stiff or jerky writing to better convey emotion and immersion. I am not the first to come up with these, just circulating them again.

1. Vary sentence structure.

This is an example paragraph. You might see this generated from AI. I can’t help but read this in a robotic voice. It’s very flat and undynamic. No matter what the words are, it will be boring. It’s boring because you don’t think in stiff sentences. Comedians don’t tell jokes in stiff sentences. We don’t tell campfire stories in stiff sentences. These often lack flow between points, too.

So funnily enough, I had to sit through 87k words of a “romance” written just like this. It was stiff, janky, and very unpoetic. Which is fine, the author didn’t tell me it was erotica. It just felt like an old lady narrator, like Old Rose from Titanic telling the audience decades after the fact instead of living it right in the moment. It was in first person pov, too, which just made it worse. To be able to write something so explicit and yet so un-titillating was a talent. Like, beginner fanfic smut writers at least do it with enthusiasm.

2. Vary dialogue tag placement

You got three options, pre-, mid-, and post-tags.

Leader said, “this is a pre-dialogue tag.”

“This,” Lancer said, “is a mid-dialogue tag.”

“This is a post-dialogue tag,” Heart said.

Pre and Post have about the same effect but mid-tags do a lot of heavy lifting.

They help break up long paragraphs of dialogue that are jank to look at

They give you pauses for ~dramatic effect~

They prompt you to provide some other action, introspection, or scene descriptor with the tag. *don't forget that if you're continuing the sentence as if the tag wasn't there, not to capitalize the first word after the tag. Capitalize if the tag breaks up two complete sentences, not if it interrupts a single sentence.

It also looks better along the lefthand margin when you don’t start every paragraph with either the same character name, the same pronouns, or the same “ as it reads more natural and organic.

3. When the scene demands, get dynamic

General rule of thumb is that action scenes demand quick exchanges, short paragraphs, and very lean descriptors. Action scenes are where you put your juicy verbs to use and cut as many adverbs as you can. But regardless of if you’re in first person, second person, or third person limited, you can let the mood of the narrator bleed out into their narration.

Like, in horror, you can use a lot of onomatopoeia.

Drip Drip Drip

Or let the narration become jerky and unfocused and less strict in punctuation and maybe even a couple run-on sentences as your character struggles to think or catch their breath and is getting very overwhelmed.

You can toss out some grammar rules, too and get more poetic.

Warm breath tickles the back of her neck. It rattles, a quiet, soggy, rasp. She shivers. If she doesn’t look, it’s not there. If she doesn’t look, it’s not there. Sweat beads at her temple. Her heart thunders in her chest. Ba-bump-ba-bump-ba-bump-ba- It moves on, leaving a void of cold behind. She uncurls her fists, fingers achy and palms stinging from her nails. It’s gone.

4. Remember to balance dialogue, monologue, introspection, action, and descriptors.

The amount of times I have been faced with giant blocks of dialogue with zero tags, zero emotions, just speech on a page like they’re notecards to be read on a stage is higher than I expected. Don’t forget that though you may know exactly how your dialogue sounds in your head, your readers don’t. They need dialogue tags to pick up on things like tone, specifically for sarcasm and sincerity, whether a character is joking or hurt or happy.

If you’ve written a block of text (usually exposition or backstory stuff) that’s longer than 50 words, figure out a way to trim it. No matter what, break it up into multiple sections and fill in those breaks with important narrative that reflects the narrator’s feelings on what they’re saying and whoever they’re speaking to’s reaction to the words being said. Otherwise it’s meaningless.

—

Hope this helps anyone struggling! Now get writing.

[cressidagrey]

White Horse - Chapter 27: July 2024 - Part 2

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.

She watched her family give up everything for Charles’ career—Arthur’s karting, their father’s savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.

But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isn’t an afterthought—she’s a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesn’t have to be invisible.

Warnings and Notes: 

we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussions of toxic past relationships, talk about loosing a childhood pet, toxic families, mention of the loss of a parent.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/gridgossip MAX. AND. BELLE. JUST. ANNOUNCED. THEY’RE. HAVING. A. BABY. I AM SOBBING INTO MY RED BULL CANS 😭😭😭

@/F1TeaSpiller not belle and max dropping the baby announcement like it’s casual and soft and sweet and now I have to reevaluate my life plans because I thought I was immune to feelings

@/F1DaddyTracker Max Verstappen is about to enter his DILF era and I, for one, am READY.

@/danielsleftbrow can’t believe we all watched Max win titles, dominate the grid, and somehow the most powerful thing he ever did was fall in love with a Leclerc and make her smile like that

@/FerrariPain charles leclerc right now watching his entire family realize they’ve been background characters in Belle & Max: The Verstappen Chronicles

@/F1WifeWatch MAX AND BELLE VERSTAPPEN JUST ANNOUNCED THEY’RE HAVING A BABY I’M CRYING THE WORLD IS HEALING SOFT MAX ERA FULLY ACTIVATED

@/DutchBabyWatch MAX VERSTAPPEN. F1 CHAMPION. CAT DAD. NOW: ACTUAL DAD. The grid is not ready for Baby Verstappen. None of us are.

@/FerrariF1Pain Max Verstappen: wins races, wins hearts, wins at LIFE. Meanwhile Charles is in the studio playing sad piano ballads because his sister just announced a pregnancy in a Red Bull hoodie.

@/Lando4Life Lando definitely screamed when he saw the post. Oscar is already knitting a baby hat. Daniel is googling “godfather application template.”

@/MaxIsWinning Max Verstappen is about to be a dad. Somewhere in the Netherlands, Jos is already prepping a kart for a baby that isn’t born yet.

@/RedBullUpdates SOMEONE SAID “Baby Verstappen is already leading the Constructors’ Championship in our hearts” AND I HAVEN’T STOPPED CRYING SINCE

@/F1TearsDaily “Baby Verstappen coming soon” MAX. BELLE. I’M CRYING IN PIT LANE. YOU WIN. YOU WIN LOVE.

@/WifeGuyMax MAX VERSTAPPEN IS GONNA BE A DAD MAX VERSTAPPEN IS GONNA BE A DAD HE’S OUT-WIFE-GUYING HIMSELF AND I’M SOBBING.

@/MaxIsWinning Max Verstappen is winning on track. Winning in marriage. Winning in fatherhood. Max Verstappen is simply… winning.

@/landoismyman lando holding that baby like it’s his godchild next season i am SO SERIOUS

@/FerrariTired me: no parasocial relationships this season also me: sobbing over max and belle verstappen’s unborn child like it’s my niece

@/GridGossip: MAX. VERSTAPPEN. IS. HAVING. A. BABY. I REPEAT: THE REIGNING WORLD CHAMPION IS GOING TO BE A DAD. WE ARE NOT OKAY.

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

(Members: Daniel Ricciardo, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Lewis Hamilton, Carlos Sainz Jr., George Russell, Alex Albon, Nico Hülkenberg, Nico Rosberg, Sebastian Vettel, Mark Webber, David Coulthard, Sergio Pérez, Fernando Alonso, Kimi Räikkönen, Zhou Guanyu, Logan Sargeant, Esteban Ocon, Lance Stroll and Valtteri Bottas)

Carlos: (Sends screenshot of Belle’s Instagram post) WHAT. WHAT WHAT WHAT.

George: You’re joking. YOU’RE JOKING. I WAS JUST GETTING USED TO THE MARRIAGE.

Alex: I thought the secret wedding was the plot twist. I WAS NOT PREPARED FOR A BABY. WHO GAVE THEM PERMISSION TO OUTDO THEMSELVES AGAIN?

Lewis: I love this for them. I really do. But also. Max? A dad?? I need to lie down.

Sebastian: This is exactly the kind of news that makes you smile and panic at the same time. Congratulations to them both. And may the child inherit Belle’s patience.

Esteban: Wait wait wait Is this real or are we being collectively pranked?? Tell me this is Photoshop.

Zhou: IT’S A SONOGRAM POST, ESTEBAN. There’s a literal baby. Inside Belle. This is not a drill.

Lance: I feel like I need to send flowers. Or a onesie. Or a helmet. Do babies wear helmets?

Nico H.: I always said Max was a menace. Now he’s a domesticated menace. The most dangerous kind.

Logan: I’m not emotionally stable enough for this level of news before lunch. I was just making toast.

Fernando: The real story here is that Max Verstappen kept this quiet Through a championship fight A media circus Family drama I’m officially scared of them.

Mark: I. KNEW. IT. I SAW THE LOOKS. I SAW THE RING. I KNEW IT.

David Coulthard: So do we just… collectively agree that Belle Verstappen has us all wrapped around her very chic, very pregnant little finger?

Valtteri: Respectfully… I’m going to cry.

Kimi: Hope the kid has better media training than Max.

Nico R.: I just want to know when to make popcorn. I want to be emotionally prepared.

Alex: So what’s next??

George: Soft-launch gender reveal via helmet design. I’m calling it now.

Fernando: Does this mean I’m godfather or what?

Daniel: BACK OFF. I CALL DIBS. I already started a registry. I have bibs with his race number on them.

Oscar: They announced it. Finally.

Lando: Oscar, Daniel and I have been living with this secret like it’s national security.

Carlos: YOU ALL KNEW??

George: AND YOU DIDN’T TELL US??

Daniel: Max said if we spoiled it he’d change our sim passwords.

Sebastian: Honestly fair.

Lewis: All I care about is that they’re happy. That baby’s going to be loved. That’s what matters.

Fernando: I’m serious about the godfather thing. Just putting that energy into the universe.

***

The paddock always buzzed on Thursdays — a kind of controlled chaos, full of camera crews and media handlers and engineers pretending not to be exhausted before the weekend even began. But Silverstone felt different. Louder. Brighter. Familiar in the way only a home race could be.

For Max, it wasn’t his home race.

But for her, it almost felt like it.

She tugged Max’s jacket closer around her shoulders as they walked through the gates, the Red Bull staff practically parting for them. Sunglasses on. Hair tucked into a soft braid. Her hand curled around his — always his — and the new, quiet weight of the gold band on her finger and the knowledge beneath her skin that she wasn’t walking in alone anymore.

Not as someone’s sister.

Not as an afterthought.

But as his.

A Verstappen. A wife. A mother.

Their schedule was tight — a dozen media stops and a million eyes. Belle stayed mostly in the background, answering a few polite hellos, sipping tea when someone offered it. Max had been pulled aside for his Viaplay interview, and she stood off-camera with his comms lead, watching with mild amusement.

It was in Dutch. Which made sense.

And would’ve made it easy to tune out.

Except she didn’t.

Not anymore.

“Je hebt iets gedeeld op Instagram deze week — gefeliciteerd trouwens — hoe voel je je over vader worden, Max?” (You shared something on Instagram this week — congratulations, by the way — how do you feel about becoming a father, Max?)

Max gave that soft, crooked smile she loved. “Blij. Echt blij.” (Happy. Really happy.)

“Hebben jullie al nagedacht over namen?” the interviewer said brightly. (Have you thought about names yet?)

Max laughed softly, nodding. “We hebben er een paar… maar dat houden we nog even voor onszelf.” (We have a few… but we'll keep them to ourselves for now.)

Belle smiled. She could understand every word.

Then, with a devilish glint in his eye, Max added, “Maar je kunt het natuurlijk ook aan mijn vrouw vragen.” (But of course you can also ask my wife.)

The mic turned to her immediately — and Belle didn’t flinch.

She stepped forward slightly, the hint of a smile playing on her lips. “We hebben een shortlist,” she said, in calm, careful Dutch. “Maar voorlopig heet het nog gewoon ‘de kleine.’” (We have a shortlist. But for now it's just called 'the little one.)

The silence was instant.

A few Red Bull staff members standing nearby audibly choked. The cameraman muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “what the hell.” Even Max looked slightly stunned — eyes wide, eyebrows lifted in that you didn’t tell me you were going to do that way.

The interviewer recovered quickly, laughing. “Spreek jij Nederlands?” (You speak Dutch?)

Belle smiled. “Een beetje,” she answered, with near-perfect pronunciation. Then, a bit more shyly, “Ik ben nog aan het leren, maar ik begrijp het meestal. ”  (A little. I’m still learning, but I understand most of it.) Then in English: “Max learned French for me. I figured it was only fair.”

There was a beat of stunned silence.

She caught the way Max’s face softened — the pride there, the quiet awe. The way he looked at her like she was magic. He laughed, low and warm, reaching for her hand without even thinking.

And the cameras caught all of it — the quiet pride in his face, the ease in hers, the way her fingers curled into his like they were already a team of three.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/F1WifeWatcher: the baby bump. the oversized red bull jacket. the way Max kept checking on her i'm going to cry in the paddock car park

@/GridGossip: Belle Verstappen walking into Silverstone in Max’s jacket, sunglasses on, baby bump very much visible, hand in his — THIS is what winning looks like.

@/TifosiGoneSoft: THE BABY BUMP IS BUMPING THE RED BULL JACKET IS SWALLOWING HER MAX LOOKS LIKE HE’S IN LOVE IN 4K I AM ON THE FLOOR.

@/softlaunchqueen: no but Belle absolutely glowed today like she woke up radiant and said “i think i’ll wear my husband’s race jacket and casually destroy the internet.”

@/VerstappenFanclubNL: She’s wearing his jacket. She’s carrying his child. She answered in Dutch. He looked at her like the sun rose just for her. I need a moment.

@/RedBullTroll33: it’s the way max has one (1) arm permanently wrapped around her like she’s a national treasure which she is obviously

@/MaxIsWinning: he keeps brushing his thumb against her hand like he can't believe she’s real guys this is love i’m not okay

@/DutchPressRoyalty:

“Spreek jij Nederlands?” “Een beetje.”

UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE YEAR.

@/F1Dutchies: Belle Verstappen just answered a Viaplay question in flawless Dutch. I am on the floor. Charles is on the floor. We are all on the floor.

@/GridGossip: Belle: speaks Dutch Max: smiles like a man who knows he married up Charles: googling 'how to say betrayal in French'

@/RedBullWivesClub: Belle said "He learned French for me, so I learned Dutch for him" and now I need a moment. Or several.

@/F1MemeLord:  Belle: exists Belle: speaks Dutch Dutch media: collective meltdown Charles: throws phone into the Mediterranean

@/TifosiTears: Charles Leclerc watching his sister speak Dutch on live TV: [insert gif of man screaming into the void]

@/RedBullHeartthrob: Max said “ask my wife” And then his wife answered. In Dutch. With perfect pronunciation. I AM NOT OKAY.

@/TifosiTears: Belle Verstappen understood the assignment and then re-wrote the syllabus. She said “Max learned French for me, so I learned Dutch for him.” Excuse me while I sob.

***

Charles Leclerc hadn’t meant to watch the interview.

He had been scrolling idly — background noise in the Ferrari motorhome, waiting for his next media obligation, pretending not to exist — when he heard Max’s voice in Dutch.

It was Viaplay. Of course it was Viaplay. Max sounded relaxed. Too relaxed. The kind of calm that made Charles’ jaw clench automatically.

He almost turned it off.

And then he heard her.

Belle.

Not just speaking, but answering the question. In Dutch. Her accent was soft, rounded, but unmistakably fluent. And she was smiling.

Max was looking at her like the rest of the world had disappeared.

Charles sat forward, frozen.

“She learned Dutch?” he muttered, as if someone would answer. “Since when does she—?”

And then she laughed — that same, easy laugh that used to fill their kitchen on Saturday mornings — and said, “He learned French for me. So I learned Dutch for him.”

The hosts laughed. Max beamed.

Charles felt like the world tilted sideways.

It was so obvious now. So stupidly, glaringly obvious.

Her hand kept drifting to her stomach when she talked. The slight curve under the Red Bull polo. The way Max hovered just half a step closer than usual — not possessive, but protective. Her skin glowing. Her eyes bright. Her posture… different.

She looked happy.

Not pretending-to-be-happy. Not “smile for the cameras” happy.

Real.

For the first time, he couldn’t lie to himself anymore.

His sister — the one he hadn’t looked at properly in years, the one whose birthday he forgot, whose voice he hadn't really heard until she stopped using it — was standing on international television, glowing. Speaking a language he didn’t know. With a man she clearly loved. A baby on the way. A whole new life, right in front of him.

And Charles?

Charles was a spectator now.

Just one more person in the crowd.

***

Silverstone was chaos — fast, loud, relentless.

But the McLaren hospitality deck, tucked above the paddock like a sun-warmed balcony, felt like a pocket of calm.

Belle sat back on one of the canvas deck chairs, nursing a cold lemonade and adjusting her sunglasses. Her Red Bull credentials hung from her neck, but nobody at McLaren minded. Especially not when she came with Lily, who had already claimed one of the outdoor tables as their unofficial headquarters.

Emilie sat beside her, picking at a bowl of olives like they’d personally offended her, while Lily — Oscar’s girlfriend — was draped across the opposite bench, sunglasses on, talking animatedly about the papaya merch queue.

“Fifteen minutes,” Lily declared, “for a hat! Oscar said the only people that wait in lines that long are people in love or British.”

“You’re both,” Belle offered with a smile.

“And you’re married and pregnant,” Emilie added, “so I feel like that makes you Queen of the Queue.”

Belle rolled her eyes fondly. “I haven’t queued for anything since Max found out I was craving strawberries.”

“Must be nice,” Emilie drawled, reaching for another olive.

“You could have that too, you know,” Lily said innocently. “If you just admitted that you and Lando—”

“Don’t,” Emilie warned, holding up a finger. “Don’t you dare start.”

Belle tried not to smile. “I’m just saying, you do spend an awful lot of time watching TikTok Thirst Traps for someone who’s just friends with their star driver.”

“It’s anthropological research,” Emilie deadpanned.

“Sure it is,” Lily said, grinning. “And the way Lando looks at you like he’s planning to build you a sim racing shrine?”

Belle nearly snorted lemonade through her nose.

Rebecca — Carlos’ girlfriend — arrived, dropping into a seat with a huff and a pastry in hand. “It’s a zoo out there. Carlos just walked past and someone yelled “El Smooth Operator” like they were summoning a demon.”

“Did it work?” Emilie asked.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Lily - Alex’s girlfriend -  showed up a few moments later, all grace and wit in a floral dress, her sunglasses perched on her head. “I bring sunscreen, gossip, and absolutely no patience for men who think DRS zones are personality traits.”

“Excellent,” Belle said. “We’re forming a coven.”

“I call Head Witch,” Emilie muttered, still annoyed about the Lando commentary.

They were mid-discussion about who would win in a team radio insult battle when someone cleared their throat behind them.

Belle turned — and froze.

Alexandra.

She looked… uncertain. Out of place, maybe. But she was holding a cup of coffee and a quiet kind of determination in her posture.

“Hi,” Alexandra said. “I was hoping… could I join you?”

The table quieted.

Belle met her gaze. No walls. No pretense. Just truth.

“Of course,” Belle said softly.

She looked… nervous. Which was new.

Belle’s heart beat faster. But she didn’t move.

Alexandra stepped forward, hands clasped tightly. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For everything. I should’ve seen it sooner. The way you were being treated. The way you disappeared. I didn’t… I didn’t know how to say something without stepping on Charles’ toes.”

“You should’ve stepped harder,” Emilie muttered, not unkindly.

“I know,” Alexandra said, her voice quiet. “I got caught up in what Charles was feeling and forgot to think about what you were going through.”

Belle nodded, not quite smiling. But not frowning either. “Thank you.”

“I hope, someday,” Alexandra said, voice steady, “we can build something separate from all that.”

“I’d like that.” Belle said softly. 

Alexandra let out a breath of relief and was immediately handed a fruit skewer by Lily. Rebecca scooted over to make room. Emilie raised a brow but didn’t argue.

And for a little while, they just talked.

About nonsense. About the race. About how McLaren’s espresso machine was criminally underrated.

Belle sat in the middle of it all — women who saw her as Belle Verstappen, not Isabelle Leclerc. Who didn’t ask her to justify her happiness or explain her choices. Who accepted her seat at the table without debate.

Her hand drifted to her stomach again, gently, instinctively.

This, she thought, was what peace felt like.

And then Lily, with a wicked smile, said, “Okay, but seriously. When is Lando asking you to dinner again, Emilie?”

Belle laughed into her lemonade while Emilie choked on a grape.

Silverstone was loud.

But here, Belle felt calm.

She was exactly where she belonged.

***

The paddock buzzed around her — a blur of lanyards, team polos, media badges, and engines humming distantly like a heartbeat under the concrete. Belle had just stepped out of the McLaren hospitality unit, the lemon tart Lily had smuggled into her bag clutched triumphantly in hand, when she heard someone call her name.

"Belle?"

She froze for half a second. The voice was familiar — so familiar — and when she turned, Arthur was already standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets, eyes wide and nervous like he hadn’t expected her to actually turn around.

He wasn’t in Ferrari gear — just a plain hoodie and jeans, no PR team trailing behind, no cameras lurking near.

"Hi," she said softly.

He took a step closer, then stopped. “I didn’t think I’d… run into you. Not here.”

Belle smiled faintly, more out of instinct than anything. “I’m technically on dessert patrol. Don’t tell Red Bull.”

Arthur’s gaze flicked to the little paper box in her hand. “Lemon tart?”

“Always.”

He nodded, then looked at her again — really looked at her. And she knew the moment he saw it: the curve of her belly, visible even under the loose Red Bull jacket she’d tugged on that morning.

His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t comment. Instead, his voice softened.

“You look… really good,” he said. “Happy.”

Belle’s throat tightened. “I am.”

He nodded once, slowly. “That’s… I’m glad. I mean it.”

There was a pause. Not awkward — just careful. Like walking across a rope bridge and not wanting to look down.

Belle looked at him properly then — at the brother who had actually tried, who had sat next to her in therapy and said I’ll do better without waiting to be congratulated for it.

“Thank you,” she said.

Arthur’s expression cracked into something closer to a smile. “Does Max know you’re out here unsupervised?”

Belle raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“Touché.”

He glanced down, then back up again. “Can I… can I hug you?”

Belle hesitated — not because she didn’t want to, but because it had been so long since it felt safe to let anyone in like that.

But Arthur had come back. Had tried.

She nodded.

He stepped forward carefully and wrapped his arms around her — gentle but protective, like he remembered what it had been like to hug her when they were kids, when thunder scared him and she read him stories by flashlight.

She let herself lean in for just a second.

When they pulled apart, Arthur’s voice was quieter. “Do you… know what it is yet?”

Belle smiled. “Not yet.”

He grinned. “Boy or girl, they’re going to be loved. And probably terrifying in a kart.”

Belle laughed, the knot in her chest easing just a little. “Definitely.”

A voice called for her from the Red Bull side — someone from comms, letting her know Max was finishing up his last interview.

Arthur nodded toward it. “Go. Before your husband launches a search party.”

Belle took a step back. “See you around?”

He nodded. “Yeah. You will.”

And for the first time in a long time, she believed him.

***

FIA Post-Race Press Conference – Silverstone 2024

 Drivers: Lando Norris (P3), Max Verstappen (P2), Lewis Hamilton (P1)

Moderator: Congratulations, gentlemen. A fantastic race here at Silverstone — Lando, home crowd, amazing drive; Lewis, a win at home once again; and Max, back on the podium. We’ll begin with questions from the media.

Reporter #1: Max, Lando — obviously there was a lot of talk after Austria last week. There was contact, some tension. Can you tell us if things are resolved between you?

Max: (with a faint smile) I mean, yeah. We talked.

Lando: We did. Sort of.

Lewis: (chuckling) That doesn’t sound reassuring.

Max: No, no, it’s fine now. My wife and Lando’s… friend staged an intervention. They made us play Mario Kart until we stopped glaring at each other.

Lando: We weren’t allowed to eat dessert until we finished one race without throwing things.

Max: They said it was therapy. It was war.

Lando: But it worked. I still think he’s a menace on track. And in Rainbow Road.

Max:  (smirking) You’re just mad I blue-shelled you.

Lewis: (chuckling) That’s the most domestic F1 conflict resolution I’ve ever heard. What’s next, baking competitions?

Max: (bemused) We did have lemon tart after. But only once we shook hands.

Moderator: So things are good between you?

Lando: We’re fine. We just needed to remember we’ve known each other forever. And that Max can’t win every race and then act surprised when I get annoyed.

Max: I’m not surprised. I’m just better at Mario Kart.

(laughter)

Reporter #2 : Max — a lot of talk this weekend, not just about the race, but also your personal life. You and your wife made your pregnancy public before the weekend — congratulations.

Max: (nods, smiling softly) Thank you. We’re both really happy.

Moderator: Does becoming a father change your mindset behind the wheel?

Max: I think it changes everything, honestly. It’s a different kind of focus now. I want to win, yes. But I also want to go home safe. I want to build a future. And… I want to be someone my kid looks up to one day. So yeah, it changes things.

Lewis: (respectfully) Congrats again, mate. Fatherhood suits you.

Reporter #3: Max, if I may ask — there’s been a lot of discussion online about your wife’s family and their absence. Can you comment on the Leclercs and their current relationship with you and Belle?

Max (calm, but firm): No, that’s private. It’s not for the media. I’ve said what I wanted to say — Belle is my wife, and we’re building our life together. That’s all anyone needs to know.

Moderator: One last question?

Reporter #4: Max, now that everything’s out in the open — the marriage, the baby — any regrets about keeping it quiet?

Max: No regrets. We weren’t hiding it. We just wanted it to be ours, for a while. And now that it’s out — I still don’t regret it. She’s my wife. We’re starting a family. That’s all that matters.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/F1TeaSpiller GUYS. BELLE VERSTAPPEN AND ARTHUR LECLERC JUST HAD A FULL CONVERSATION IN PUBLIC. IN THE PADDOCK. WITHOUT CRYING OR YELLING. IS THIS... PEACE???

@/GridGossip She smiled. Arthur smiled. THEY HUGGED. AFTER EVERYTHING. I AM EMOTIONALLY UNPREPARED FOR A SIBLING REUNION ARC.

@/FerrariTears So let me get this straight:

Belle’s bump is showing

She’s glowing in Red Bull merch

She’s joking with Arthur in front of the media

Max is stonewalling everything Leclerc I LOVE MESS.

@/MaxIsWinning Max ignoring the Leclercs like they’re on a different time zone. King behavior. You forgot her birthday, now you don’t get to be part of the baby era.

@/PaddockSecrets Reminder that Belle’s horse Blanche was sold when she was a child because the family couldn’t “afford it” while Charles was climbing through F2. AND THEY FORGOT HER BIRTHDAY. Forgiveness would take divine intervention if you ask me.

@/MrsVerstappenStan Imagine selling her horse. Forgetting her birthday. And THEN watching her become Belle Verstappen — loved, thriving, glowing. Redemption arc not guaranteed. But Arthur… maybe.

@/CharlesSlippedUp: Arthur hugging Belle: ✨ hope Charles not even making eye contact: 🚨 flop

@/gridchaosdaily “my wife and lando’s friend made us play mario kart” sir. that’s not a sentence. that’s a romcom premise.

@/f1softlaunches:  “Lando’s friend” is code for “the girl he’s in love with but won’t admit it yet,” pass it on.

@/theblondetrauma: no but who IS lando’s “friend”? because there was a very pretty blonde with Belle Verstappen at McLaren and I’ve seen her before 👀

@/wagsandwifi: So let me get this straight. → Lando crashes with Max in Austria → Max’s WIFE and Lando’s mysterious “FRIEND” stage a Mario Kart therapy night → Lando’s “friend” was at Silverstone, hanging with Belle and Lily → ??? → grid peace is restored SOMEONE WRITE THE FANFICTION

@/pitlaneplants: calling it now: lando’s “friend” is belle verstappen’s blonde best friend she had the ✨vibes✨ and the “i yell at you because i care” energy we love to see it

@/lando_fanacc44:  lando in the cooldown room: 😐 lando being gently bullied into mario kart therapy by a beautiful woman: 😵‍💫💗

@/mcblush:  “max’s wife and lando’s friend” shoutout to the women ending grid wars and fixing male friendships with Mario Kart and lemon tart

@/VerstappenWifeWatch: Max just shutting down the question about the Leclercs with "that’s private — Belle is my wife" I have never seen protective energy delivered with so much calm fury. Iconic behavior. 10/10 boundary setting.

@/RedBullRoyalty Arthur Leclerc hugging his very pregnant sister in the paddock while Max is across the track refusing to even mention her family by name… The range. The narrative arc. The fanfic writes itself.

@/MonacoMess: Still not over Max going "no regrets" about keeping Belle and the baby private. That man would burn the world for her and smile while doing it.

***

They were finally home.

The kind of home that smelled like lavender laundry soap and the ocean just beyond the windows. Monaco glittered outside in quiet golds and silvers, but the apartment was calm — lights low, Belle curled into the corner of the sofa with her tea and a blanket thrown over her legs, Max next to her with one hand resting instinctively on the soft curve of her belly.

It had been a long few weeks — Silverstone, media frenzy, a dozen headlines he wanted to ignore and a thousand photos of Belle he secretly saved just for himself. She was glowing. She was exhausted. She was everything.

He was just about to suggest a bath and bed when her phone rang.

Belle blinked, startled. “It’s the stables,” she murmured, already sitting up straighter.

Max was alert in an instant.

She answered with a soft, “Bonjour?”

There was a pause — a breath of silence — and then her entire expression changed.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, hand flying to her chest. “She’s foaling?”

Max didn’t understand the words, but he understood her.

She looked up at him with wide, bright eyes. “Fleur’s in labor.”

Max was already standing. “Let’s go.”

“You don’t mind?”

He gave her a look. “You want me to say no to the birth of your horse’s foal? No chance.”

She was already grabbing her coat — or trying to. He beat her to it, wrapping it gently around her shoulders. She still moved too quickly sometimes, like she forgot that there was more of her now. He kissed her forehead, then her temple, and helped her into her shoes before she could argue about it.

They were in the car five minutes later, tires rolling over the slick stone streets, headlights cutting through the dark. Belle’s hands were fidgeting in her lap — not anxious, exactly, but alive. Lit up.

Max reached over and took her hand. “We’re going to be right there.”

She nodded, eyes misty. “I just… I didn’t think I’d get to be there. Not after Blanche was sold. Not after everything.”

Max didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

Blnache had been a wound that Belle rarely touched. He knew the story — the silent heartbreak of a teenage girl watching her family sell off the one thing that made her feel seen. 

And now she had a piece of her back. In Fleur. And in the foal Fleur was carrying. 

Twenty minutes later, they were at the stables — warm hay, soft light, the familiar murmur of quiet voices around the foaling stall. The stablemaster nodded respectfully as Belle approached, and Max stayed a step behind her, hand on her back.

Fleur was standing, breathing hard, but calm.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Belle whispered, moving to the edge of the stall, voice thick with emotion. “You waited for me.”

Max watched the way her shoulders dropped — how her whole body softened in relief. She was radiant in that moment. Full of life in more ways than one.

***

The air in the stable was warm and heavy, thick with the smell of straw and anticipation.

Belle stood near the edge of the stall, one hand braced lightly on the wooden rail, the other pressed instinctively over the curve of her belly. Fleur stood only feet away, her coat shimmering with sweat, her breath fast but steady. 

Max stood at her side, quiet and solid, one hand resting between her shoulder blades. She could feel the tension in his posture — not nerves, exactly, but something taut and controlled. He hadn’t said much since they arrived, but he hadn’t let go of her once, either.

“She’s doing so well,” Belle whispered, voice caught between awe and something close to reverence.

Fleur shifted, groaned low in her throat. 

“Is it weird I feel like I’m going to cry?” Belle asked softly.

“No,” Max said, his voice low. “But if you do, I might have to join you.”

She turned to look at him — and froze.

He was pale.

Not just pale but white, like all the blood had drained from his face in the last five minutes. He wasn’t breathing heavily, wasn’t panicking — but he definitely looked like someone who was two seconds away from either sitting down or passing out.

“Max,” she said slowly, hiding a smile. “Are you okay?”

He gave her a tight, slightly wild-eyed smile. “I’m fine. Just… watching a living thing emerge from another living thing. With hooves.”

Belle covered her mouth to muffle the laugh. “You’re not going to faint, are you?”

He exhaled through his nose. “No. Definitely not. Maybe.”

“Max.”

He gave her a shaky thumbs up. “It’s good practice, right? For when it’s our turn?”

Belle wheeze-laughed. She couldn’t help it — the image of Max holding her hand during labor looking like this while trying to coach her through contractions was too much.

“You’re so pale,” she whispered, wiping tears from her eyes — this time from laughter. “You look like someone just told you the Red Bull sim rig was down permanently.”

“I am fine,” Max muttered with as much dignity as a man watching a horse give birth for the first time could muster.

But then — just like that — it happened.

Fleur let out a final grunt and shifted her weight, and there he was.

The foal.

Small and slick and dark as midnight, legs too long for his body, ears flicking even before he finished unfolding into the world. 

Belle’s breath hitched in her throat.

A black colt.

Perfect and new and hers — Fleur’s — theirs.

She felt Max slide an arm around her waist, steadying her.

She didn’t even realize she was crying until he pressed a kiss to the side of her head and whispered, “He’s beautiful.”

Belle nodded, unable to look away. “He is.”

Her heart felt too big for her chest.

The foal wobbled on unsteady legs, blinking at the world like it might blink back. Fleur turned her head and nuzzled him gently, and Belle’s hand tightened on the railing.

“I didn’t think I’d get this moment,” she said, voice barely above a breath. “I thought I lost it.”

Max didn’t answer right away. Just held her, safe and warm and unwavering.

“You didn’t lose anything,” he murmured. “You were always meant to come back for it.”

Belle let the words settle, let the tears fall freely this time.

She reached for Max’s hand and squeezed it tight.

And as the colt took his first few wobbly steps beneath Fleur’s watchful eye, Belle felt something click into place — a full-circle kind of peace.

She had a home. A future. A family. And now, a foal. Black as night, born of hope.

***

Instagram Post: @/belleverstappen

Comments: 

@/oscarpiastri:  I’m sorry… did you two just name a foal like he’s about to pull a sword from a stone and rule Camelot?

@/lando.jpg:  ngl I want to meet him. does he bite?

@/emilie_abadie: the knight of your little kingdom is HERE and he’s STUNNING. (also please send pics daily or i will riot)

@/danielricciardo: I need to meet this horse immediately. Also, calling it now: Galahad will grow up to have a mane like Zeus and kick fences for fun.

@/arthur_leclerc: He’s perfect. Fleur looks proud. Please give him a carrot from me.

@/f1softlaunches: not belle casually dropping the most magical name + max almost fainting + making the entire grid feral in one post

@/gridchaosdaily: THE HORSE HAS A NAME MAX ALMOST FAINTED BELLE IS CRYING I AM ALSO CRYING WE ARE ALL CRYING

@/maxverstappen1: That’s slander. I was visibly concerned not fainting. (He’s already faster than me out of the gate, btw.)

@/georgerussell63: I’ve never seen a newborn horse look so judgmental. Galahad is already disappointed in us all.

@/sebastianvettelofficial: This is the best kind of news. Congratulations to you both. 🐎💚

@/alex.albon: Max Verstappen: World Champion, Sim King, nearly taken out by a baby horse.

@redbullracing Congratulations to the newest honorary team member 🐴💙 (Do we need to start making Galahad merch??)

@/carlossainz55:  i would’ve actually fainted. respect to max for holding the line under pressure.

@/victoriaverstappen:  Driver, Husband, Future Horse Dad of the Year. Congrats! Galahad is beautiful, Belle! 🐎✨

@/tifosimess Raise your hand if you're emotionally compromised over a foal you’ve never met 🙋‍♀️🙋‍♂️

@/f1softlaunches: welcome to the grid, galahad verstappen, first of his name, foal of fleur, baby of belle, breaker of max’s cardiovascular stability

@f1babywatch Was Fleur okay?? Did everything go smoothly?? I’m emotionally invested in your horse now 😭

↪@/belleverstappen She was amazing. Strong and calm the whole way through — typical Fleur. She’s resting well, and already giving Galahad the “don’t wander too far” look. 🐴💕

@/hoofandheartdressage:  Do you mind sharing who the sire is? That colt looks beautiful 👀

↪@belleverstappen: Not at all! Galahad’s sire is Glamourdale. He and Fleur made magic. ✨

@/formulaphoenix:  Does Galahad live in Monaco with you guys?? Because I’m picturing a tiny foal climbing apartment stairs.

↪@/belleverstappen: As chaotic as that sounds, no — he’s staying at the stables just outside of town. 

@/ponyclubpatrol: Congratulations!!! Galahad is GORGEOUS 😍 Are you keeping him or planning to sell?

↪@/belleverstappen: He’s staying with us. 100%. He’s already family.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/f1inlaw: genuinely not sure if galahad is a foal, a future champion, or the next king of arthurian legend. either way, he’s already outpacing us all.

@/wifeguyverstappen: max really married belle, bought her a horse, stood next to her while she sobbed through foaling, NEARLY FAINTED, and then posted “he’s already faster than me” like a proud dad

who is this man. i love him.

@/mclarenshadowtea: Lando’s in the comments like “does he bite”

Sir you have never wanted to pet something so badly in your life

@/sainzsimping:  Carlos saying he would’ve fainted is the most relatable part of this whole saga can’t believe max verstappen held it together while watching childbirth but make it horse edition

@/gridgossip:  MAX. ALMOST. FAINTED. OVER A HORSE. THE WORLD CHAMPION WAS TAKEN OUT BY A FOAL NAMED GALAHAD. I CAN’T BREATHE.

@/f1babywatch:  Me, emotionally stable: Also me, reading “Welcome to the world, Galahad”: 🥹😭🫠

@/chequeredhearts:  Belle Verstappen crying. Fleur calmly foaling. Max barely standing. Galahad judging us all. This is Shakespeare with horses and I’m obsessed.

@/f1horsepower:  Galahad’s dad is GLAMOURDALE?? You mean the 2022 world champion in the Grand Prix Special and Grand Prix Freestyle Glamourdale? Dutch Warmblood Glamourdale?!  No wonder the colt’s already a legend. Give him a paddock and a pony podcast immediately.

@/tifosimess: Raise your hand if you're emotionally compromised over a foal you’ve never met 🙋‍♀️🙋‍♂️🙋

@/rainbowroadgp:  “Fleur is fine, Max nearly fainted” is the single greatest Verstappen update I’ve ever read. Give her the driver seat.

@/fernandofanz: not me plotting how to break into a stable in Monaco just to meet Galahad.

@mcpradaqueen

No bc imagine Blanche looking down from her pasture in the sky like “that’s my girl. look at her. excellent name choice. 10/10 job, baby human.”

 @/f1ponygirls: you don’t understand. blanche was taken from belle as a sacrifice to fund her brothers’ careers. and now her daughter just had a foal that stays. Galahad is not just a colt. he is history rewritten with love.

@/tifosimess: I was not prepared for the generational symbolism of Blanche → Fleur → Galahad

this is a bloodline forged in heartbreak and healed with love and carrots@/godsavethefoal Blanche was taken from her. Fleur was given back to her. And now Galahad is hers from the start. THE HEALING. THE HERITAGE. THE VERSTAPPEN EQUINE DYNASTY.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

As a Leona stan, what are your favorite aspects of him?

His only redeeming character trait is his boobs

WDYM, I’M NOT A L*ONA STAn 💀 I WOULD NEVER DEBASE MYSELF BY ASSOCIATING WiTH HIM LIKE THAT...

... But HYPOTHETICALLY speaking, if I were a L*ona stan 🤔 I'd say my favorite aspect of him (you read that correctly, I'm only going to talk about ONE aspect here, not multiple otherwise this post would be way too long) is his ability to guide and to lead others. (I already have a huge bias towards "big brother" type characters so 🧍) It doesn't really matter to me that Leona is technically a younger brother and not an older one; "big brother" comes across so strongly in his behaviors and attitude that he's basically an honorary one.

It's so crazy to me just how much Leona does for others, even if he comes off as annoyed or arrogant when he does or has selfish ulterior motives he hopes to achieve by helping others out. He tutors Ruggie, helps Epel by making a voice-changing potion, hones in on his club members' preexisting skills and has them sharpen those, instructs Deuce + Jack on how to more efficiently mine magestones, went after Jack when he expressed wanting to go to a shady amusement park, sacrifices himself to let others run from puppets, gives advice to Jamil in book 6, and is constantly thinking about his country and worries about its future under his brother's rule. Book 2, for as bad as the writing is overall, kicked off because Leona wanted to take drastic steps to help his dorm's students secure their future career prospects in athletics. Several students express respect or admiration for Leona because of this. He earned that respect instead of having it handed to him on a silver platter. All of Savanaclaw follow him unquestionably. Jack was inspired from seeing one of Leona's magift/spelldrive plays on television. Epel thinks he's cool and aspires to be like him. I'M SURE THERE ARE A TON OF OTHER EXAMPLES THAT I CAN'T POSSIBLY CRAM IN HERE. The fact that I can list off so many examples off the top of my head should already speak to how much BIG BROTHER-NESS can be packed into Leona.

The best part of it all is that this makes complete sense for his character. Leona is someone who has given up hope for himself and his own future 😭 YET HE'S OVER HERE SUPPORTING ALL THESE OTHER PEOPLE BECAUSE HE STILL HAS HOPE FOR THEIR FUTURES. This is so clear to me if you read his post-OB flashback in the light novel but it's also there in his chat with Jamil in book 6. This fr makes me mad sad because literally all the people he helps out legitimately look up to him EVEN WHEN LEONA HIMSELF CAN'T SEE HIS OWN WORTH OR DOESN'T BELIEVE THAT HE'S CAPABLE OF GOODNESS (as we see in his book 7 dream). I just find this endlessly fascinating to examine.

AGAIN THOUGH, this is all purely hypothetical :> because I am NOT, in fact, a L*ona stan.

[angelsndragons]

how's it going, veilguard peeps? one of my favorite headcanons and theories is

the caretaker = felassan

and i'm gonna run down the (admittedly thin, heavy conjecture/inference) evidence we have supporting the theory.

spoilers ahead but first!

AnD, i hear you say, didn't Solas kill Felassan in The Masked Empire? Isn't that one of his great regrets?

fear not, fellow fans.

1. solas killed felassan In The Fade. that's kind of an important caveat. da2 established that mages killed in the fade become tranquil, they aren't outright killed. put a pin in this, we'll come back to it.

2. spirits, particularly ancient spirits, can fracture into different fragments upon death, some with their own personalities, experiences, and beliefs. we have falon'din and dirthamen, the two mythal fragments, solas' wisdom friend in dai, etc.

the point is that the ancient elves don't die easily and while felassan is probably not among the first generation of elves, he is still an ancient elf. we don't know if he was a spirit who gained a body or one of the first elves fully born in and of thedas. we do know that distinction matters very little, given that ghilan'nain was definitely of the later generation and yet she rose to become a god.

Okay, sure, AnD, but what does that have to do with Felassan and the Caretaker?

timeline:

felassan's notes are all over the crossroads and the lighthouse. not once does he mention the caretaker. even in the post-veil notes, the caretaker is not mentioned. the first time we Know that the caretaker has moved in to the crossroads and the lighthouse is from solas (we know it's from solas because of the paint):

This note has a smear of paint on one corner: Have they always been here? There are beings in the Crossroads unknown even to the wise, though the most ancient ones make any domain their own. Certainly, this Caretaker belongs here now. I wonder what we look like to them. Need is a scaffold, and the needs of the living ever rise and fall upon it. Hunger, thirst, sleep... imagine the constant cacophony to one sensitive to such things. Or am I too simple? Wants are fleeting; needs have deeper roots. Perhaps that's why I find this particular spirit's presence both comforting and disconcerting. The prospect that our heart's desire and our truest need could differ—or are even at odds—is hard to contemplate.

so sometime after he woke up in 9:39-9:40 dragon, solas made his way back to the lighthouse. he wonders whether the caretaker has always been in the lighthouse or if they are a more recent addition. whichever is the truth, solas immediately clocks them as ancient, comforting, and disconcerting.

now, as for when solas first encounters the caretaker, i'm going out on a limb to say that this encounter occurred after trespasser. we know solas carved his regrets out of himself via the paintings and statues to ensure he wasn't accidentally grabbed by his regret prison while moving the remaining gods. the office note states that he figured out his "perfect reparation" by studying the inquisitor's arm.

this is important because solas kills felassan in 9:40, leaving a gap of time where a fragment could reform and regain enough power to manifest once again.

so we've established a theoretical timeline in which felassan could have fragmented into the caretaker. now let's take a look at some links.

You are safe here, both those of flesh and those of Fade. Any who wish to help are welcome. The magic of the Lighthouse will provide for your needs, see to your comfort, and even help you understand different tongues, for those who escaped here from distant parts of the empire. Should you have any other needs, ask for the Slow Arrow, and I will help.

so i just want to highlight something here. felassan tasked himself with caring for the slaves and potential new rebels. he is explicitly linked over and over again with seeing to other people's well-being, with explicit concern for the innocent. it is his number 1 character trait outside of being solas' second. this man cares. he also specifically cares for solas, many of his codex entries include asides about solas' state of mind or words of comfort to his friend.

the caretaker tells rook that they "go where [they are] needed." felassan's notes on the vi'revas say "thus, we can travel wherever this rebellion needs us, with no fear of pursuit."

one of the caretaker's travel comments is "as needed," in response to rook's question if they're one spirit doing everything or multiple. aka the caretaker we know could be a fragment.

their first acts are to help rook navigate the crossroads, where felassan's notes are scattered all over the place. where elven spirits and fade spirits alike have come to take refuge from the gods, much like the ancient entry above. only this time, there is no solas and apparently no felassan. just a caretaker and a bunch of guardians. guardians which, according to bellara, are powered by spirits set to guard something. so like, fractured echoes or remnants of the original rebellion, is what i'm getting at. much like how the lighthouse is fractured, the veil broke the world and the fade, etc.

the caretaker holds dominion over the crossroads. they also say at the beginning that they do not have the power to help rook more due to the state of the crossroads. the spreading blight and weaponization of the wolf's regrets are leeching power from the place and the caretaker. the rune rook receives at the end of the game is called the salvation of felassan and its power is dictated by how much of the crossroads quest line the player completed.

however i would argue the strongest evidence that felassan fractured into the caretaker is thus: remember way back in the beginning of this monstrosity i said that felassan was murdered in the fade? remember how da2 establishes that mages killed in the fade become tranquil via feynriel? and remember how it's dwarves, innately tranquil because they are cut off from the titans, and tranquil mages who enchant objects in the previous titles?

remind me who's doing the enchanting in this game again?

that's a rhetorical question.

it's the caretaker.

yeah, just think about it for a second.

a spirit has been sundered from the fade enough that they can enchant items and even abilities.

felassan was an ancient elf murdered in the fade.

yeah.

i love this game.

[cosmerelists]

Who Should Be The First Stormlight Character to Say "Fuck"?

As requested by @cosmereplay :)

[THIS POST CONTAINS WAT SPOILERS!]

In Wind and Truth, Lift used "shit" as a swearword, so apparently real-world swears on now on the table in Roshar. So in the back-half of Stormlight Archive, who should be the first character who says "fuck"?

1. Zahel?

Zahel: What, me? Why? Because I'm grumpy all the time? Zahel: Fuck that. It's not even a color. Zahel: ... Zahel: Shit.

2. Gavinor?

Gavinor: I think that if any character deserves to be the first, it's me. Gavinor: I just returned from Trauma Hell and watched my grandfather kill himself. Gavinor: If I don't get to look Odium--sorry, Retribution--in the eye and say "fuck you," then what's the point? Lift: Proud...but also sad. Is this what it's like to be a parent? Gavinor: YOU'RE YOUNGER THAN ME

3. Navani?

Navani: Not to turn this into the trauma olympics, but... Navani: [Counting on her freehand] I'm encased in crystal, I don't yet know my beloved husband is dead, I don't yet know that I failed to rescue my grandson, I don't yet know that most of Roshar has been lost, I don't know that my daughter is traumatized, I don't know that my nephew is trapped in another city and lost his leg and went through hell, I don't know that my daughter-in-law has been lost off-world... Navani: If I wake up and don't whisper "fuck" when I hear everything that's going on...

4. Kaladin?

Kaladin: To be honest, I think I'm too pure to say "fuck." Kaladin: "Storms," which is definitely NOT the same thing, is good enough for me! Syl: But consider: "Fuck it. We ball." Kaladin: ... Kaladin: I can see it.

5. Shallan?

Shallan: Oh, I'll definitely be the first. Shallan: I like to push cultural norms. Shallan: I'm trapped in Shadesmar and probably pregnant. Shallan: [inexplicably wearing sunglasses all of the sudden] "Fuck" is about to be my favorite word, I bet.

6. Jasnah?

Jasnah: I care too much about how I present myself and how I am perceived to use an off-world, vulgar epithet. Jasnah: Unless, of course, I'm now so broken by losing a debate against Odium and letting Thaylenah fall... Jasnah: Which undermined my entire sense of self and proved myself incapable at the very things I believed made me worthwhile... Jasnah: Then, maybe, just maybe... Shallan: Is it wrong that you've never been hotter? Jasnah: YES

7. Adolin?

Adolin: [considering] Adolin: I think I'm a "fuck yeah" type of person. Adolin: Maybe we can make that, like, the catchphrase of the Unoathed! Notum: Maybe we won't do that. Adolin: You're no fun.

8. Moash?

Moash: Why are we pretending that any of these straightedged, goody-two-shoes protagonists are capable of introducing "fuck" to Roshar? Gavinor: Excuse me? Moash: Please, you're going to be crying the whole next book, I bet. Moash: I'M the edgy one. I'M the guy who dyed his Bridge 4 uniform black just to look cool. Moash: If ANYONE is saying "fuck" for the first time, it's ME. Moash: Because there is NO ONE in these books who is as ANGRY or as EDGY or as BAD as me! Blackthorn Dalinar, raised from the Spiritual Realm and probably coated in fire or something: [waves] Moash: CAN SANDERSON PLEASE MAKE ME RELEVANT AGAIN

9. Sigzil?

Sigzil: Look, it's definitely not me. Sigzil: If I wasn't saying "fuck" at any point while on Canticle, then it's clearly not a word in my vocabulary.

10. Lift?

Lift: Sure, I introduced the word "shit" to Roshar. Lift: So you may think--"Oh, of course it's just gonna be Lift again." Lift: And I get it. I'm fucking awesome that way. Lift: But consider. Lift: Somethin' is going down. Something bad. Something horrible. And all the sudden we cut to Wyndle, and he just whispers, "Oh fuck." Lift: ... Lift: I don't think the world would recover.

[edwin-paynes-bowtie]

I was angry. I'm still angry. But sadness and exhaustion have overtaken that anger, and I have A LOT to say about this.

Dead Boy Detectives is a very special show to me. It occupies a ridiculously large place in my heart, and it's brought me joy in a way that only a few pieces of media ever have. When I watched it for the first time, Edwin Payne had my heart within minutes. By the end of episode one, Charles Rowland did, too.

It meant a lot to me, seeing such wonderful and nuanced queer characters brought to life in the type of paranormal story I have always loved. In these past months, Edwin and Charles have felt like real friends to me, and to never see them again without a satisfying conclusion to their story is something I have not truly processed. Same for Niko and Crystal and The Cat King - they should be back. But I haven't fully processed it yet, that they're not coming back, and yet I am still aggreived.

@netflix is, at this point, so fucking gagged on capitalism's dick that they're not even pretending to care about art anymore. Dead Boy Detectives is genuinely masterfully made on just about every level. The actors did a phenomenal job and I will be following all their careers heavily. Steve, Beth, and the writing team crafted an incredible tale. The sets, the lighting, the props, the effects were all on point. This was a well-constructed program, and you could tell that everyone involved with the project gave it their all because they cared so deeply.

(Also my heart breaks for the whole cast, but it's hardcore hurting for George since this was not only his first screen role but one he clearly thought he would be keeping as of two weeks ago. He seemed so secure. I hate this for him.)

In addition to being a good show, DBDA had good reception. It's got a 92% on Rotten Tomatoes, was on the Top 10 for several weeks, got 4.7 million views within week one, and was getting daily articles posted on various review sites with NOTHING but praise. The fandom is incredibly active. We trend on Tumblr like five times a week and on Twitter regularly as well.

THE. SCRIPT. FOR. SEASON. 2. WAS. WRITTEN.

What the fuck happened?

Idiot executives at @netflix, choking on the dick of capitalism, probably just thought that they wouldn't get new subscribers for a second season of an existing show that didn't rake in Bridgerton-level cash. That's how they work - people who are interested in it are already subscribers, so who the fuck cares about them? Better to make some other shit, hope new people subscribe, and maybe that'll be a Bridgerton-level hit.

But also, Netflix has fun little trends to look into. And, when you look at the lineup of shows Netflix has canceled, they are overwhelmingly queer. The homophobia of @netflix and their operatives is clearly boundless, and it hits here really badly because this show was clearly made with a queer audience in mind. It was one of the most authentic pieces of queer media I have ever experienced, if not THE most authentic pieces of queer media that I have ever experienced.

It's fucking ridiculous that Netflix canceled a show that they commissioned a completed script of months ago. It sucks that they decided that their existing subscribers, their queer subscribers, did not matter.

Edwin and Charles are ours now. Well, of course, they're George's and Jayden's respectively, but the characters are no longer Netflix's to use and throw out. They're ours now, our fandom's, and we all love them so much.

And we deserved to see more of them, and we deserved to see their love story play out onscreen, but I for one am not going anywhere. Let's give Edwin and Charles - and the rest of the gang - millions of versions of the stories and endings that Netflix deprived them of.

[monkebearness]

Rereading the Mixed Messages [Pt. 1]

Kamimoto Kotone (tripleS) x Male Reader

Part 2

Tags: fluff, angst, friends-to-lovers, alcohol

Word count: 11.9k

a/n: hello, it's me again. this post was supposed to be a smut with a different story and characters, but 'cause it was a special someone's birthday (five days ago), I chose to write this instead. anyways, if you like fluffs, I hope you enjoy this one.

A woman wearing a backpack has been waiting in a hallway right outside the comfort room. She saw her friend rushing towards him, while on her right hand, the handout brochure she received eleven minutes ago wrinkled more and more, thanks to her tightening grip.

“Tone-yah!” the man shouted with relief. “There you are, thank goodness.”

“Junghoon-ah!” she called him, hurrying and somewhat in her voice, especially as she saw him already sweating. “Where the heck have you been? I thought we’d meet here.”

“I’m sorry for taking you so long. I, uhh, I just asked someone to be our guide,” he pointed to the direction beside him with his thumb.

“You just went to someone?” Concern started to radiate from her voice.

“Yeah, and I think he’s a senior who can help us out.”

“You think?” her eyebrow automatically raised slightly, as with her cadence.

“I guess… “ he surmised. “He definitely looks like a sunbae. He’s wearing a gwajam.”

“You should've just waited for me. I was in the restroom for like only five minutes, before you went all Seoul searching on our own campus like some tourist.”

“Well, I panicked, arasseo?” he raised his hands in defense. “I just found him along with a bunch of other students, but he’s the one who stepped up… And besides, he’s willing to assist us. So whatever the case may be, he may know a lot more stuff than we do.”

“You didn’t have to bring anyone, Junghoon!” she couldn’t stop herself from freaking out. “We could’ve toured the campus by ourselves and everything would've been just fine. It’s not like we’re already late or anything… Isn’t that why we went here early?”

“Calm down. But yeah, that’s… A good point,” he scratched his head. “But maybe we should hear him out first. Give him a chance first… We gotta respect our seniors.”

A groan left her mouth, just as a tall man in his university jacket approached them with a welcoming beam. Kotone watched Junghoon as he bowed to him in sight, prompting her to follow his gesture, but with less enthusiasm and more caution towards the older student.

“Annyeonghasimnikka!” he greeted them with his hoarse yet cheerful voice. “I’m Kim Myungsoo.” He turned to Junghoon for a second. “You told me you have a little trouble navigating around campus.” His eyes then met Kotone’s. “So I assumed that both of you are freshmen.”

“Ne,” Junghoon politely answered him. “I kinda also assumed you were a senior, but I am really sorry if I got the wrong impression.”

“I’m actually a sophomore, but don’t worry, ‘cause I’m actually flattered.” he chortled at his own nonchalant response. “And of course, I’d be more than happy to help you… It is orientation day, after all... But, do you mind me asking what your names are?”

“I’m Geum Junghoon,” he bows, before turning to the woman. “And my friend here is…”

In her eyes, his face looks like he’s a model or a young actor who played either a main or supporting role in a romcom college drama. That might have been too specific, but that’s just how Kotone thought about him that morning. Watching romcoms in her spare time was an undeniable factor to that mentality. She didn’t know whether to be enticed or intimidated—or both—by his striking looks, towering stature, and courteous approach. But she might have been staring at her for too long. She should be saying something to him now. She should’ve because they’re now looking at her.

“Koton—” she hesitates at first, making the senior and her friend lean their head to the side while the former lets out a low, huh? Correcting her error within milliseconds due to internal panic, she clears her throat. “Mianhaeyo. My name is Kamimoto Kotone.”

“Oh! You must be Japanese then?” Myungsoo guessed, almost with a higher pitch, something that fascinated the woman because of his reaction. “An exchange student?”

“No. I'm just living here with my relatives,” she corrected him, before following up with, “But you are right about the first one. I was born and raised in Japan.”

“Ah… It’s nice meeting you, Junghoon and Kotone,” he bowed down to them. “First things first, welcome to Seoul State University.”

“Kamsahamnida, sunbaenim,” Junghoon professed as he bowed back, compelled by his habit of being respectful towards him. Too respectful, as Kotone would think, even though she herself bowed much lower this time.

“Oh, that's fine. It's my pleasure to help out more of our Seoulmates, you know?”

Suddenly, Kotone laughed through her nose.

“So, now… On more pressing matters, what are you guys majoring in?”

“Tone’s from the College of Education,” Junghoon answered. “I’m from Tourism and Hotel Management.”

“I'm also from Education!” Myungsoo applauded his answer. “Seems like we already have something in common then, Kotone-ssi. Plus Junghoon’s building is only right next to ours, so that'll be convenient for both of you.”

Junghoon nudged her left shoulder with a smirk. “You still regretting my decision? You've got yourself a new friend!” he mumbled while they followed his trail.

She scoffed at his retort. “Fair enough. He's fine… You did good.”

“And Junghoon,” the upperclassman turned to them. “I’ve actually met someone from your department. His name’s Lim Honggi. Does the name sound familiar to…”

As the two had a conversation, Kotone’s attention towards Myungsoo grew from the moment forward. After several minutes of strolling around the nearby locations, they arrived right in front of the building of Junghoon’s department. It was like Tone was a protective noona sending off a younger sibling to go on his own (they're the same age), even though Junghoon insisted that they go ahead, right after bowing to Myungsoo out of gratitude.

“Do you mind if I take you there as well?”

Such a question struck Kotone with panic, but not enough to trigger a fight-or-flight response. Instead, it let her own guard down. “Oh… Uhh… You don’t have to do that, sunbaenim… Don’t you have a class to catch up to?”

“In about thirty minutes, yeah… But we’re heading to the same building anyway,” he pointed out. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh, right!” she exclaimed out of the sudden, slowly pursing her own lips out of embarrassment.

“Unless you’re uncomfortable, then I can just leave you alone. I’m sure you know your way to your room. It’s just that—”

“No!” she exclaimed again, even though she knew he was right. “I still have half an hour before our first class, so it’s fine, really.”

That was the start of their something.

“Myungsoo-yah!” Someone calls him with a teasing tone as he approaches them. “There you are! The council told me you were busy briefing freshies… Speaking of which.”

“Yeah… They were right,” Myungsoo quipped.

“Oh, don’t mind me. I’ll be on my way—”

“It’s okay, sunbaenim,” Kotone assured both of them.

“This is Park Yeonghwan,” Myungsoo proceeded with the introductions. “My classmate and friend. This is Kotone. She’s a freshie.”

“Annyeonghaseyo,” Kotone bowed to him. “It’s nice meeting you, sunbaenim.”

His mouth opened, as if he had heard a spell leave her mouth. “Kotone? Are you—”

“Yes, she is Japanese,” Myungsoo stopped him, right as Kotone was about to open her mouth. “You get the point, dude… She must be tired hearing that from everyone else.”

“Gwenchanayo, sunbae,” Kotone stepped in. “But, he’s right. About the Japanese part.”

Yeonghwan chuckled at his interjection, but Kotone herself felt a tug at her heartstrings. “She said it’s fine. Don’t be too defensive, hyung.”

“Hyung?” she tilted her head. “Wait, I thought both of you are sophomores.”

“Oh, you don’t know?” Yeonghwan confessed. “He’s a year older than me.”

Within seconds, she did some mental math for an educated guess. “So that makes you, like, twenty years old?”

He didn’t answer her directly. “I hope that doesn’t make you more uncomfortable.”

A few realizations crossed her mind. Seeing someone was the last thing she wanted right now. There was more to this interaction than just attraction. After all, she's been friends with Junghoon since middle school. Befriending a guy is not a big deal for her. Kotone only chuckled at his hesitation. “It doesn’t… I actually think we’ll get along just fine.”

“You think so?” both guys asked in unison, somewhat bewildered and impressed by her sudden surge of confidence.

“Yeah,” she cheered on. “It’s a good conversation starter for a lot of people I meet, so I can't blame them for that.”

“Phew…” Yeonghwan let out. “That’s nice to know—” he felt a buzzing in his pocket.

“You good, man?” Myungsoo inquired as he and Kotone watched Yeonghwan quickly read his screen within seconds.

“Oh, yeah… I gotta dip, man,” he informed, still holding his phone in his hand. “The council needs me for another meeting. Something about plans for the homecoming festival. But,” he turned to Kotone with a sly smile. “I won’t be giving away too much. It is for the freshies after all...”

“Do they need more help or—?”

“Nah, nah, I got this! We got this,” he reassured him. “They know you're on tour guide duties for the rest of the morning, so you keep doing you.”

“Oh… Okay, then. I’ll catch up with you guys later at class.”

“Sure. Later, hyung!” He turned to the freshie and bowed to her one more time. “It’s nice meeting you, Kotone-chan.”

She bowed back as Yeonghwan walked away from them. “Forgive me for him being a bit too casual,” Myungsoo let out a chuckle.

“Nah, it’s okay, sunbaenim.” Her smile widened. “I kinda like that kind of approach. I gotta admit, it’s pretty refreshing meeting someone new. Someone who isn't just from my own class.”

A smile also formed on Myungsoo’s face before looking at her yellow backpack. There’s three keychains he noticed in his glance. The lowest zipper contained the head of a red lesser panda. The one in the middle was a Sanrio character, whose name he definitely didn’t remember at the time. All he knew was that it was a punk rabbit, wearing a black hat with a pink skull. However, the uppermost one was an odd yet captivating design, dangling around the top zipper. Due to the chain resembling tulips, one would think of it like a twisted looking flower… Until, he realizes it’s a mouth.

“Hey… “ Myungsoo couldn’t help but point his finger. “That’s a pretty cool Demogorgon keychain!”

He knows what it is? She realized, turning her head in his direction. “Oh, thanks! It helps pickpockets rethink their decision.”

The sophomore let out a laugh. “That’s actually a nice strategy. No one wants to be taken in the Upside Down unless you’re the Mind Flayer. Or Vecna.”

“So, umm, you watch Stranger Things too?” she asked him with eyes of intrigue.

“Yeah, yeah!” he hollered, just as his enthusiasm gradually lowered. “Well, I loved the first two seasons.”

“Just the first two?” she raised an eyebrow, albeit mischievously.

“The third season’s a bit meh for me, to be honest,” he answered with a light shrug. “But the new one is still growing on me.”

“That’s an interesting take,” she professed. “I'm sure they're not as questionable as your anime takes? Or are you not a fan of one?”

Her playful taunt allured him, making him cross his arms. “Oh, don't hesitate to test me, Miss Kamimoto. I think you'll be surprised.”

Mutual interests were only the start. As both the seasons and semesters passed, they would live and learn that they have a lot more things in common than once thought. More things to talk about. More to bond over.

= =

Sophomore year, first semester. The two were at the garden when a flock of birds flew out the trees hearing her sudden burst of scream. Thankfully, no one else was there. At least no one who cared enough to pay attention.

“Junghoon got himself in trouble,” Kotone would often confide in Myungsoo. Perhaps this moment was one of the most serious talks they had with each other, even though it’s only been a year since they met.

“What? How did it happen?” He was just as confused, considering how he’s treated Junghoon as a younger brother. “He didn’t tell me about any problem in his class.”

“Of course he wouldn’t…” she grumbled. “That’s how he’s always been… But Honggi told me about it, and right when I confronted him about it, he brushed it off and told me not to worry! Like, how can I not worry about that?”

Myungsoo could feel the emotions beyond the surface of her irritation, one that she’s been trying to suppress while around him.

“He’s become a pushover. Again, ” she sighed. “Ugh… Why is he still like this?”

“Did his teammates threaten him?” he began asking his questions of concern.

“Worse,” she admitted. “It was a pair project, and he did it all by himself!”

Hearing the situation dwindled down his tension, though his worry for Kotone and Junghoon persisted. “So… No one threat—”

“No one threatened, or appeased him!” her voice elevated again. “Yeah, you got that right. His professor doesn’t even know, and it looks like it'll stay that way.”

“Maybe he has a reason,” he considered. “Was the partner sick? Or maybe they had an emergency? I know Junghoon isn't the most confrontational guy but I doubt he’d keep letting a classmate be a freeloader, especially on a pair project.”

“I don’t know… He said his sunbae was busy with her organization and that he used her references, but that’s not enough.”

“Sounds like he felt bad for her too.”

“I feel bad for him!” she countered.

“I am worried for him, too… But like you’ve said, he didn’t get punished for it. He didn’t even feel bad for what he did, even if, I had to admit, it was a bit too far that he did the project all by himself. He’ll be fine, Tone-yah… We can talk to him tomorrow.”

“Who is he even trying to impress in that situation?” she countered him. “He’s one to be interested in relationships.”

“Well,” he let out a chortle. “I guess, there’s a first time for everything.”

“Maybe, but I’ll still be keeping an eye on that Park Sohyun.”

“Wait. Park Sohyun’s his partner? That’s odd. And a bit reassuring for Junghoon.”

“Why? Do you know her?”

= =

Sophomore year, second semester. It was after class when Kotone asked Myungsoo to meet her outside their building. He could whiff a much stronger perfume the more she walked closer. Her loud voice would call out to him right after. “Oppa!” Especially with her outfit of a fit aesthetic shirt under a denim jacket (and not to mention her soft blush, mascara, and a warmer shade of lipstick), he almost mistook her for someone else for a second. “Thanks for meeting me here.”

“You look…” He stopped his sentence halfway, still in spectacle at her somewhat new look and style. “Fancier. You look fancier than usual. What’s the occasion?”

“Well…” she fixed her hair in front of him, inciting a quick gulp from Myungsoo, but not enough for her to hear it. “I’m going on a blind date with three of my friends and their companions tonight, and I want you to be there too with us.”

He placed his palm on his chest, dramatically leaning away from her. “Are you really inviting me to this just now? Without further notice?”

“Yeah, don’t you wanna be my plus one?” she held his hands. “They will like you, oppa. I’m sure you’ll get along with their plus ones too. Some of them are around your age.”

The longer she stared closer to him, her eyes slowly sparkled. He couldn’t even say ‘no’ for some dumb reason. “This is a bit too sudden, Tone.”

“Please…” her tone started to shift into a more cutesy one, as if she’s doing an aegyo. Or maybe that’s just how he often saw her face. He saw her new hair style. While a low bun isn’t anything new for Kotone, seeing it up close astounded Myungsoo. “It was pretty urgent. And I didn’t have anyone else to ask to come with me.”

He scoffed in disbelief. “Really? There’s no one else? A social butterfly like you?”

“Yah, I’m just a social caterpillar,” she quipped back. “If someone between us is the butterfly, it’s you, Mister Vice President of the SSU Visual Arts Organization!”

“That’s a fair point, but that’s hardly relevant, when you’re the one who asked me out on this…” he shot back. “Why didn’t you think of anyone else from the gang? Or even from your own block?”

She knew he was right, but she didn’t wanna give it up just yet, so she kept firing more reasons and excuses. “I thought of asking Yeonghwan-oppa or Honggi, but they seem like they do that by themselves anyway. I considered Junghoon, but he’s still busy on his shift tonight. And besides, this is the only time I’ve asked a favor, like c’mon...”

“I guess that’s true.” He sighed in resignation. In the silence of Kotone’s anticipation, he slowly slid his fingers through his hair before finally facing her. “Fine… But, I’m only going ‘cause you asked. But only this ti—”

Kotone squealed. “Gomawo, oppa! That’s a deal, alright? The meetup won’t be that far from here.”

= = =

Vacation, pre-junior year. Since their dorms were the closest to the university among best friends, they decided to meet on campus after lunch. It was a Saturday morning when Kotone had returned to Korea after a one-month vacation to her hometown.

“I know I’m a few days late,” she pulled out a pair of small silky bags from her pocket. “But, saengil chukhahaeyo.”

With eyes of curiosity and anticipation, Myungsoo inspected the bags. It took him a second to guess the gift, but he was familiar with it. They're omamori. Two of them. Red and pink. Considering he wasn’t too knowledgeable of Japanese, Kotone briefly explained the writings to them. “That’s a kenku, and that one’s an en-musubi.”

“What do they mean?”

“Kenku’s for good health and long life. Cliche, I know,” Kotone giggled, before she took a swift deep breath, though he barely noticed. “But the en-musubi is for finding luck in love.”

He slid his fingers on each, feeling the smooth texture of the charm, mesmerized by their design. “Woah… This looks legit. I mean, you know, it’s pretty. It’s authentic.”

She chuckled at his observation. “Of course, it is. I bought that in Meiji Jingu. I actually bought each two for you and the boys, but I decided to give yours first.”

“I-uhhh… I don’t know what to say… Gomawo, Tone.”

“You’re welcome, oppa… That’s for the Orbit merch you gave me.”

“Those were your birthday gifts… You deserved that.”

“You better not lose these within a year,” she added with more emphasis, staring at the two charms.

“I'll do my best. Especially for the love charm,” he teased, which only provoked the woman as her eyes squinted at him in an instant. “My love life is now in your hands or something.”

“I’m kidding,” he chuckled, as he looked down on both charms on his hand, caressing it with affection. “I won’t lose it, of course. They’re good charms… But if something does happen to these, which I won’t allow anything to happen to, you’re still gonna be my good charm, you know?”

Kotone felt a gulp on her throat. She chuckled nervously. “Flatterer.”

“That’s just the truth,” he justified himself. “You and the guys have always been my charms since we got together.” He faced her with a serious gaze and closed smile, putting his right hand on her left shoulder. “I couldn’t be more grateful for that.”

Dugeun… “Myungsoo-oppa.” Dugeun…

“And look who’s back!” A familiar male voice yelled from behind, startling only the woman. It’s Yeonghwan, with Honggi and Junghoon, right beside him, as they all rushed to the pair behind the bench with excitement.

“Kamjagiya!” Kotone did not expect their presence, which only elevated her heartbeat. “Guys! What the hell? I thought y’all won’t be making it today!” She turned to the quiet one among them. “Junghoon-ah, you even said that you’re working at the CVS today.”

“Well, actually… The boss told me I can take one day off during the weekend until summer break ends,” he explained. “Plus, why would we ever miss your arrival?”

“So the three of you just planned this surprise without telling me?”

“It’s actually our plan,” Myungsoo revealed. “All of us wanted to surprise you.”

“Oh… Well, that’s a bummer… I would’ve brought the rest of your gifts.”

“That’s okay… The gifts can come later.” Honggi started to make circle motions with his hand on his tummy. “You’ll make it up for us some other way.”

She and Myungsoo laughed at his subtle suggestion, knowing well what he meant. What they all meant. She breathed through her nose. “Where do you guys wanna have lunch?”

Cheers erupted from the three, making her laugh more and widening her smile at the reaction and sight of all her closest friends, who gathered with her.

= = =

Junior year, first semester. The campus had been set up with dozens of different and unique booths, as plenty of clubs and organizations had prepared them in the past week. So far, the week-long university festival has been going well on its third day. From arcades and treasure hunts to readings and talent shows, hundreds of students and visitors stroll and explore the university from seven to six… And it was no different for these two. Myungsoo was holding a small bouquet of flowers in his hand as Kotone was holding a stuffed toy bunny while they walked across the crowd.

“You finally tried that spirit animal booth yet?” Myungsoo wondered.

“Oh, yeah!” she clapped on the bunny toy with her left hand as if she were a seal with flippers. “That was the funnest one I’ve had so far... They really made a lot of effort making that one, so I applaud them.”

“More than your own club’s booth?” He teased her with the question.

“Well,” she had caught his intention, prompting her to raise the confidence in her delivery. “Nothing else beats our treasure hunt, of course, so it’s a close second… Maybe I’ll consider the Lyrical Booth too some other time.”

“Oh…” his mouth slowly opened in anticipation. “Are you finally gonna be showing your rapping skills at the workshop? While at it, why not join the talent contest too—”

“Yah, I’m just considering!” she reacted with remarkable alertness. “Don’t be too excited. It might not even happen, if you keep on prying.”

“Why not?” He opened his arms wide, much to her slight embarrassment. “I can be your hype boy!”

Her eyes moved to the side, staring at him. “You mean hype man?”

“Yeah, yeah. My bad… I got it mixed up from that song from last year.”

“It’s fine…” she brushed off. “What’s what the Noraebang Booth does to you anyways. They got a lot of bangers since yesterday, so I can’t blame ya.”

“But I’m still wondering, what was your result on the animal test from earlier?”

“Oh, yeah… As expected, I’m a lesser red panda! Nothing new there,” she exclaimed. “How about you?”

“Eh…” he huffed. “I really don’t wanna mention it.”

“Oh, come on. That’s not fair,” she nudged him on his left shoulder. “Are you keeping things from us more because you now have—”

“Myungsoo-yah! Tone-chan!” A woman walked towards them. One who has been both familiar to them since the past and a half year. “There you are!”

“Annyeong, Yooyeon-unnie!” Kotone waved at her, witnessing both her friends meet.

“I just had a walk with Tone,” Myungsoo walked closer to her, holding her hands with exhilaration. “You shouldn’t worry about me too much, noona.”

“Yah… I told you not to call me that,” Yooyeon lowered her voice. “Not in front of everyone, anyways.” She turned to Kotone. “And thanks for looking after him… Tone-chan. You must’ve been exhausted keeping up with all his yapping.”

“Hey,” Myungsoo interjected, embarrassed by the woman’s remark.

Kotone chortled. “That’s no problem, unnie. He was being less chatty this time…” She poked his left elbow. “So that made things a little easier for me. And himself.”

“Hmm… That's unusual for my boyfriend.” She leaned closer into him, speaking her breath closely while he exhaled a smile with excitement. “Maybe I shall give him a better, more thorough check up inside our booth?”

As she witnessed their sweet and suggestive moment, Kotone felt a sensation travel down her spine. Her heartbeat increases, seeing their faces only an inch away from each other’s. Her fingers clenched as her smile tightened as their lips touched. “I, uhh, I’ll go look after Junghoon and Honggi at their booths. You two just have fun, alright?”

“Are you sure you don't wanna tag along with us?” Myungsoo tried to talk her out.

“And be a third wheel? Ah, no thanks,” she scoffed with a more playful undertone. His persistence to make her stay somewhat struck a nerve, but she didn’t mind it for long. “You two rarely get the chance to hang out since preparation week. Look, unnie, he even got you a mini you. Those flowers weren’t enough for him.”

“Awww… You got these for me?” Yooyeon cooed at Myungsoo, taking both gifts as they embraced.

He accepted a kiss from her on his cheek. “I just thought since it’s the festival, it’d be a nice way to help one of the arcade booths and bring you something at the same time.”

“You and your excuses, babe. And of course, you’re welcome to tag along with us, Tone-chan...” the older woman quipped to Kotone, letting out a giggle beside Myungsoo. “Who else knows better than us than our own matchmaker?”

Flattery was what she felt. At least, it should have been her only reaction. Yet it's only the surface. A convincing cover to what her heart was telling her… “I’ll be fine on my own. You two can pay me back by setting me up with someone, arasseo?”

“I'll be on the lookout, girl.” Yooyeon forms her fingers in the shape of a gun. ”You can count on me for that. I know a lot of fellas from our class, so just take your pick.”

Tone adored that her close friend was acting like that. She liked that both her close friends were happy. She did. She should.

“Sure, unnie…” she snorted. “Alright, now I really gotta go. Take care, love birds…”

But there was no point in ruining their moment by reminding them of their presence. By reminding herself. There’s nothing to gain from it. Nothing to gain from thinking about this longer than it should. She turned around and faced the crowd while still wearing her smile when she heard her clubmate’s cheerful voice.

“Have fun, Tone-chan! We’ll be at our booth, okay?”

They’re happy. It’s all that mattered.

= = =

Junior year, second semester. Things got more hectic, academic-wise, especially with seniors like Myungsoo finally reaching their final semester. But, even for juniors like Kotone, a lot more doors of opportunities opened for her… And that’s what the latter assured her when they talked by themselves in one of the campus gardens. She was told it was urgent, so the woman waited at one of the benches until he arrived.

“You should run as auditor, Kotone.”

“Me?” Her eyes widened, even standing up from her seat. “For the student council? Michyeosseo?”

“Come, Tone-yah… It’s gonna be productive for you... You’ll get to demonstrate your skills and talents outside class. Outside your little diamond dreamer club. Plus, even Yooyeon thinks you should venture out too.”

“That's easy for both of you to say, oppa.”

“Take it from me. I may already be a senior, but that doesn't stop me from trying out other responsibilities. And I don't see why you wouldn't do the same.”

“Oh, so you’re guilt-tripping me ‘cause it’s your last year, huh?”

“No, no, no! You don’t have to run. But you know, just think about it. Just my advice.”

He could only wait for her in silence. While the leaves above rustled along the winds and the branches blissfully swayed. Clinging her right index and thumb on her chin, Kotone's mind gradually shifted into a more rational route.

“Hmm… Now that you’ve brought it up,” she pondered. “Maybe it will give me more experience. Perhaps, it’ll be a great addition to my resume…”

“Now we’re talking.”

“But that doesn't mean I'll actually run for real, arasseo?” she pointed her index finger at him. I'm just considering all my options carefully.”

= = = =

Senior year, first semester. Kotone gained more exposure and some connections after becoming elected as the auditor of the Education Department’s Student Council, even after Myungsoo finally graduated with flying colors. But, there’s one thing she or any student can’t escape from. And such a laborious reality was something that she often dealt with, by spending time at the library before or after class.

After taking off her glasses, she sighed on the surface of the table right next to the stack of books she had compiled. “Would be nice to have Junghoon, Honggi, and Yeonghwan with us… Why did all of them have to enlist at a time like this? Couldn’t they just have waited their turn?”

“Yeonghwan said he just wanted to get it out of the way,” Myungsoo pointed out. Yes, he was still there. “I'm thinking the other two just thought he had a point.”

"That's such a silly answer. But yeah, it is pretty reasonable, I guess.”

“Or maybe they're just avoiding making their own theses,” he added.

“That's what I was thinking!” she almost bursted into laughter, but not before muffling her mouth with both her hands.

Myungsoo giggled as softly as he could. “Don’t worry... You still have me, right? What better way to work on your thesis than to ask for advice from your sunbae. When the boys get discharged, they’ll regret not being here with us… At least two of ‘em will.”

“Eeeeehh... You're only here 'cause you just extended your teaching assistant job in the first place!” She gave him a light punch on his left shoulder.

“Yah… Just because it's true, it doesn’t mean it's easy for me either.”

“Oh, poor you,” she sneered with a sarcastic undertone. ”Gotta wait for your girlfriend while the rest of us hoobaes have it so easy with our thesis, don’t we? Not to mention, I still have a meeting with the council later this afternoon!”

“Just so you know, I don't regret being here as much as you want me to. And Yooyeon still has another hour before her class ends, so I have no other choice but to stay here for a while as you babble in front of your laptop… And I gotta make sure that you're not just slacking around or snoring on your table.”

His argument only made her snicker. There was no point in arguing with a friend. This friend. “Well, I give up, so I’ll just say it. Thanks for the support, even if it’s just you being here with me.”

They lock eyes for a moment. No quips, no banters. Just the traces of their smile, just before a thought crawled up their blank minds... This may be the last year they’ll see each other like this. At least, with just the two of them. Perhaps, that’s for the best.

“Anytime, Tone-chan… What are friends for?”

Especially because of that.

= = = = = = = = =

“One matcha latte for Changmin! Your order is now ready for pickup,” an automated voice calls out from the counter. A man, in his early twenties, stands up from his seat right after the call, parting from his friends for a moment to fetch his order.

It's 12:00 P.M., and the cafe is already flooding with customers, most of whom are students and professors on their break. The calendars on the kiosks state February 7, 2031. On their table, twenty-six-year-old Kotone has been facing a twenty-eight-year-old Myungsoo from her seat in the last half an hour, surrounded by their now almost empty disposable cups, their laptops, and distinct bags on the chair beside them. His eye bags are more noticeable than usual. He’s still tall, although his latest figure appears a little more “mesomorphic,” as she tries to describe it herself mentally, though it doesn’t bother her. It’s not uncommon to gain weight in their late twenties, what’s the big deal?

Thankfully, there was no sense of awkwardness in their atmosphere. Why would there be? They were close friends. They were there for each other at their highest and lowest points for more than four years. If his mere new look bothered her, then their friendship was all pointless and for nothing. Besides, there’s other reasons to be awkward about.

It ain't the first time she's seen him after graduation, thanks to social media and some social gatherings that she tried to avoid in the last few years. But, seeing him now, it's something else. Something that she can't describe, considering the fact she’s been paying attention to his face as much as she is to his words, probably a little more.

“This is a really, really big project… You really sure you wanna do this, Kotone?”

“You don’t have to do it with me. I can just write and send a request letter to the Dean instead, if they need any more proof or confirmation that we’re sincere about this.”

“No, Tone-yah,” he insists. “Since I already agreed to meet with you, I can handle that.”

“How about you, Myungsoo-oppa,” she asks him, her tone’s a mix between a playful intimidation, covering her slight hint of concern. “Do you think this is a lost cause?”

“Of course, it’s not a lost cause,” he reassures. “I wanna help you. Not just because I’ve been teaching here for four years now, but I believe why you wanna do this… Honestly, it’s not that selfish to think about making some reunion possible.”

Her eyes light up with optimism, contrasting her somewhat smug front. “Really?”

“Almost every alumni homecoming we’ve had were for middle-aged folks. Which is fine, no offense to them, but people our age often forget that we were students once too, back in the day. This is a chance for us to remind them that it’s okay to think about and yearn for those times. You don’t need to be in your forties to attend a college reunion… right?”

Her heartbeat slowly becomes louder. “Well…” She clears her throat. “That’s well said. I couldn’t have put it better myself. Besides, Yoon-daepyonim already had this approved, so it would really irritate her if this doesn’t go through.”

“I know you guys do galas for socialites and folks at corpo every year,” he scratches his chin slowly. “But I didn’t know ModHaus would also be into organizing alumni parties. Like, I don’t know if that’s like an upgrade or a desperate rebranding from them.”

“We’ll plan, organize, and host just about anything, if we think it’s worth planning,” she crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow. “We’re not called the company of all possibilities for nothing. And, we don’t just do it for corporations... Ever since she took over, we’re not like that anymore. For the better.”

“Well, I can’t deny that. But whatever the case is… Tell your boss not to worry too much…” He offers his left hand. “Let’s do well on this project, Miss Kamimoto.”

Such an act of formality from an old friend makes her giggle, a response that she tries to cover up by clearing her throat immediately after. Leveling her eyes with her friend, she holds his hand with her right. “Couldn’t agree more, Professor Kim. Let’s do our best.”

And as their hands shake through this meetup, the Reunion Party of Batch 2025-2026 has been set in motion throughout this month. Through weekly meetings, Myungsoo helps Kotone become acquainted with some of the current alumni committee of the SSU. Most were new faces, about a few years younger. Some were familiar, most of which were either older or the same age as hers.

“Kotone-ssi! It really is you. You barely aged a day.”

“Ne! Annyeonghaseyo, sunbae. And please, it seems that time has been kinder to you.”

“Sunbaenim!” another one approaches her. “It’s wild, and an honor, seeing you here, considering how blessed you are, working at one of the richest companies in Korea.”

“Nah, I beg to differ!” she humbles herself. “I wouldn’t even have gotten to ModHaus if I never spent my time here in Seoul State… The honor’s on me, knowing how passionate and dedicated you all are in helping to plan this event.”

“And just to assure you,” she added. “You will all be compensated for your service.”

Her reminder sparks wholehearted laughter and cheers from the committee. “We’re not doing this for money, Kotone-ssi… But just so you should know, we can’t deny that kind of promise.”

“Well, it’s finally settled then.” She claps her hand. “Hwaiting, yeorobun!”

The planning and execution would take a couple of months, perhaps a little longer than their timeframe, as both the representatives from Tone’s company and the SSU alumni committee would have to juggle between fulfilling their regular duties at their personal works and making this brand new event beyond merely possible.

“ModHaus will provide their services as much as they can, so don’t worry about asking our affiliates for help, everyone. This also counts as our project, after all.”

But what makes this period more than memorable for Kotone was not only the people she’s been reunited with. They are still at the preparation stages, after all. They would have team lunches here and there. Revisiting the university itself was the most special aspect for her, because of the memories it brought both of them back with each step in every stroll they took on campus before or after their meetings.

At noon, they bask in the sunlight, which, thankfully, is no longer as excruciating and dangerous to walk freely as it was years ago without the habitual routine of putting on some sunscreen during spring and summer. The pair would walk past the grass fields and the nearby blossoming gardens. Past the buildings old and new. There’s parts of themselves that never left. It was understandable for Myungsoo, but for Kotone, it’s quite eye-awakening to see her realization unfold with her eyes. From the students, professors, to the guests like her going on with their business. A group of friends chilling under the shade of the trees, inclining on the bench, with some lying even on the grass with no to little care about the dirt that just accumulated on their shirts and jackets.

She simply can’t take her eyes off her surroundings. With every live scenery to watch in a state of bliss, her gaze would find another to watch and appreciate. “I know a lot has changed since graduation, and yet, this place feels like yesterday.”

“Really?” Myungsoo teases her, following her gaze. “I honestly can’t tell the difference.”

“Yah, don’t ruin the moment…” she whines. “That’s ‘cause you’ve stayed here while most of us went our separate ways. Of course, you wouldn’t get it.”

He does. But he doesn’t say anything. Looking in her direction, he reminiscences much like her. “Hey, do you remember that time when we first hung out at these fields?”

Kotone now realizes that she underestimated him.

She thinks to herself, Maybe this is all just nostalgia. With all this ambition, maybe this is just me listening to my younger self, instead of focusing more and more at work and slaving myself to the executives, like I have always been.

“You know… If this doesn't end well, then consider it a cautionary tale for myself,” she admits her own misgiving, subconsciously opening and closing her hands in a sporadic pattern.

“It’ll go well, Tone,” Myungsoo senses the seeds of doubt already growing within her. “But, if it makes you feel any better, I'll join you on that lesson.”

She giggled, before sighing into the breeze. “Thanks, but I don’t know… I honestly just want to make this a reality for our batchmates. That’ll make me feel better. Besides, I made a bet with a few of my closest friends. Suhyeon, Kyubok, even Junghoon.”

He wants to comfort her—but hearing a familiar name is not something he’s heard in a while, but her last-second confession makes him laugh. “Junghoon’s doing well, I see… We rarely get to hear from the rest of the gang nowadays, and I only heard that he was the head chef at your company… But it’s actually nice to hear that from our youngest.”

She knows what he means, but she doesn’t want to ruin the vibe of their conversation. “Oh, he’s doing so much better, oppa… I actually want you to hear from him when the time comes. But that for now, all I can say is…”

Kotone begins to spill tea which astonishes Myungsoo. It’s only the start of this night. Bringing together scenes and sequences of memories from their collegiate past would continue to motivate them in making this event a reality, not just for themselves, but also for everyone else who will take part in this reunion.

= = =

March 2031. They start to spend more time meeting outside the university. On this day, the pair meet in a cafe outside the ModHaus building, which surprisingly enough, was Myungsoo’s suggestion. For once, he wants her to travel less, arguing that her anticipation for the reunion will wane if they keep meeting on campus grounds.

Straight from his backpack, he hands the woman a small box wrapped in a pink ribbon, which she opens. She’s in awe.

Kotone looks back at him. “What… What is this, Myungsoo-oppa?”

“Just a gift. It’s your birthday today, isn’t it? Saengil chukahaeyo.”

After a quick unboxing of the box, she gives the bottle a test spray inches away from her.

This isn’t just any perfume. This scent has brought her years of memories more vividly. Back to that afternoon. To a lot of afternoons. The garden. The flowers. It doesn't help since the man in front of her was mostly with her during those times. It’s not the exact same brand, but it’s enough for the woman to let out a sigh of longing, yearning for those moments even more.

“Wah…” she whiffs more of the scent. “I can’t believe it's been a long time since I've sprayed something like this.”

”Do you like it?” He remains reserved, even though he’s already seeing her reaction.

”How can I not? You're really making me excited about the reunion, you know that?”

“Well, I didn’t mean to…” he confessed. “But, if you think of it like that, then I’m glad that helped you be more pumped up for this event.”

Her eyes widen once again, only realizing now what he said earlier. “So, after all these times, you still remember my birthday, huh?”

“Yeah!” he cheers, nudging her shoulder. “Come on, Tone. What are friends for?”

Oh… A dart strikes her heart. Why is she feeling this? Why is she grateful, yet also hurt? Why does she feel that pang inside her? It’s nothing, a voice tells her. This isn’t the first time he’s given you a gift! “Oppa, this is too much. I don’t know what. How to repay—”

“You don’t need to repay anything. And just because you’re working hard, doesn’t mean you can’t have a little celebration. Most of our plans have been finalized! We’ve gotten this far thanks to you, so consider it as a reward.”

Maybe that’s enough. “Thank you for this, Myungsoo.”

She brushes this thought off with that self-reassurance. This thing isn’t about whatever she just considered in her mind. This is about the reunion. You’re being overdramatic around him. Just focus on your job now. “And speaking of finalized, I just have to ask again if you have proofread the whole invitation, haven’t you?”

“Yep, for the hundredth time. I’ve gone through the email. They did a great job with making it snappy and concise. They didn’t even use GPT to write those up.”

“Well, I trust your word… Let’s finally send it, shall we?”

“Of course, it’s your call, committee leader.”

“Stop,” she chuckles and with one deep breath, she takes one last scan of her invitation before hitting ‘send’ on the email with her index finger. Kotone braces herself for what’s about to come, looking back at Myungsoo as a reassuring closed smile forms on his face. “Let’s do our best, Tone-chan,” he raises his left hand, his fist closed.

His innocent face reminds her of a quote from a show that she watched decades ago. That damned smile. She reciprocates his gesture with her right hand with a chuckle, hoping to forget what she just felt earlier. Still, even that single bump of touching his skin sends a tingle through her veins.

= = =

April 2031.

Things got busier. Questions from invited guests build up. Scheduling conflicts between their sponsors and services begin to surface. With only a few weeks away, the committee has been doing their best, dividing their tasks in dealing with the problems step by step. On weekends, their responses to certain emails would take overnight.

“Let’s take a break first… We’ve done a lot tonight.”

Right as she closes her laptop, Kotone’s voice begins to crack. “O—okay…”

Myungsoo immediately sensed something’s off with her silence. He inched closer, slowly reaching his hand into her shoulder. “Tone-yah… Are you… alright?”

She struggles completing her words, completely giving into the chaos clashing in her heart and mind. “It's just… I miss them… It’s hard… to imagine… I just don’t want to disappoint them.”

Myungsoo has no words. Rather, he’s hesitant and fearful that he would only break her heart more than it already is. He doesn’t want to give false promises or high hopes, but he doesn’t want to let her down either. He listens to his heart, pushing himself to hold her shoulders, slowly wrapping his arms around them.

“I miss them too, Tone…” he mumbles, patting her on the back and caressing her hair as she lets out her tears in his embrace through a muffled whimper. “We’ll make this work, arasseo? I’m sure of it.”

= = =

On this Friday of May 2031, the reunion finally begins inside the Na Heedo Gymnasium.

And as they expected, not everyone could be there tonight. But the fact that more than a hundred invited guests arrived there has surpassed most of their expectations. Faces old and new dress up for the occasion, crossing paths with their old buddies from years ago.

The guests stand and stare at the spectacle that is the party. Hundreds of familiar faces, now several years older, laughing and grooving on the dance floor under the moonlight vibing at the playlist of Western and local pop music alike prepared by the DJ. It is still  several minutes before the program proper starts, allowing guests to keep bonding and being acquainted with each other inside or near the venue. Plentiful students, whether graduating or already graduates for a year or two, are present too, taking advantage of possible recruitment from their alumni, though they’d have to make some effort to get their attention, considering that fact that lot of alumni just wanted to party tonight by getting off some steam and escaping from their present.

“Tone-yah has really made it possible, huh,” Kim Chaeyeon shakes her head in amazement.

“I mean, it was like, almost four months in the making, right?” Kim Nakyoung wonders. “But damn. She really did it.” She claps her hand.

“Three months. But come on now,” Kotone herself joins them in a less formal dress. “It wouldn't be possible without y'all. There’d be no reunion without you guys and gals!”

“Omo, omo… Tone kudasai!” Lee Jiwoo hollers on. “The mastermind is finally here!”

“I just can't believe you and your committee managed to pull this off!” Dahyun cheers on, joining the huddle between women. “It paid off.”

She’s touched by their piles of praise. “Thanks for the compliments, y’all. I, uhh, I’m just really happy that you guys can make it here tonight.”

About four hours would go by, dozens of personal reunions take place not just inside the gymnasium, but also in the corridors, the outdoors, and even in the restroom. Let your imagination wild. Members of the committee would often check on each other, but for the most part, they’d only tell each other to enjoy the moment once their program had all wrapped up.

With nothing else to deal with, Kotone finds Myungsoo from a distance. Maybe it’s simply the magical atmosphere that the event has conjured throughout the campus tonight, but to her, it's like when she first met him during orientation week. Her heart tells her to do it. To walk up to him. Nothing can stop her now. Why keep hesitating.

Right as her eyes catch Yooyeon approaching him with two empty glasses in her hands.

She can feel her own heart pulling away, dragging down like an anchor with every beat. This isn't college, nor is it not high school either. Well, you definitely did not think this through, her ego tells her over the deafening gymnasium.

“So…” she hears someone else’s familiar voice from behind. “It still really is him. After all those years.”

She turns around. “I don't know what you're talking about, Junghoon-ah.”

“You don't have to tell me anything, Tone…” he snickers. “But, maybe it's better if you talk things out with him.”

“Nothing is going on, dude,” she keeps dismissing his claim with a smile. “And how about you and—”

“We're doing well, thank you,” he stops her, knowing well who she meant. “Worry about your own… I just don't want you to get hurt because you're keeping it to yourself… Go to him. Don’t think about it too much.”

And as he leaves her with an assuring smile, Kotone does. She takes a deep breath, maintaining her cool and shaking her worries and doubts to the side the closer she reaches the gap between Myungsoo and Yooyeon, even as they exchange laughter.

“Look who finally showed up… Koto-chan!”

= = =

It’s now an hour past midnight, inside the gymnasium, and only a few alumni and other guests have been hanging out, as they exit the hall and, on their way out, thank the ones who are still present there, the committee themselves, the two of whom are Kotone and Myungsoo. They’re now fixing everyone else’s mess, yet they do it with smiles radiating with contentment with the memories they made.

“I know the staff will be dealing with most of these in the morning, but I’d rather fix the mess we’ve made here.” Kotone places another chair on the fifth stack. “At least most of them. Wow, this is no joke.”

“Let me help you with that,” offers Myungsoo. “You’ve done a lot for tonight, you know.”

The woman has had the urge to ask him about what she saw earlier. It can just be a friendly curiosity, right? Nothing scandalous about it.

“Thanks for helping me out, not just with this, But you know… With everything.”

“Hey, don't mention it, Tone-yah,” he taps her on the back. “I loved planning this whole event as much as you did, but you're basically the MVP who made this fantasy real from the start.”

“Nah,” she objects. “It would have remained a fantasy if it wasn't for you, Kim Ssaem. You’re the one who’s still here.”

“I guess, but who knew the class officers of 2025 would still be here like we used to?”

“Not everyone from our officers got to be here, if you remember things clearly, but I guess… It’s best that we focused on who came tonight. Cherished the moments with those in front of us,” she pondered.”

“That… That couldn’t be more true.”

“The nostalgia must have gotten into you tonight as well, Mister Treasurer.”

“I didn't even know how to count money that well.” He laughs and shakes his head at her callback. “I can't remember why I even accepted the class’ nomination in the first place.”

“I wasn’t there, but I thought you did your job just fine.”

“That's because you were there with me, Miss Auditor!”

“Not when you were around,” she shoots back. “I wasn’t even there until your last year.”

“You helped me regardless. Plus, you did well on your own after I graduated. Balancing the council funds and your thesis… Now, everything paid off for you, Tone-chan.”

“Hey, at least you’re loving your job. Loyalty can get you somewhere, after all.”

“You don’t?” he queried. “You get paid like six digits for about half a year, if not more! You’re just as loyal to ModHaus as I am to our alma mater.”

“Well… That’s one thing I love about my job. I just wish I’d get to do other stuff, like I did planning this event, you know? Not that I wanna be an intern again or something, but it’d be nice to branch out to another department… It’s been a long time.”

“Have you ever considered applying for other positions in your company?” he suggested. “I doubt they wouldn't want to take your expertise for granted, because in the past three months, you’ve shown them what you’re capable of… You’re a woman of many talents, Tone.”

Dugeun. “You flatter so much, Myungsoo-oppa…”

“Yeah, but that wasn't a lie, was it?”

“Whatever. I am considering reaching out to the Event Management Team. Happy?” she spills to him. “They’re the ones who planned and executed the last ModHaus Gala, and, believe it or not, that inspired me to do this whole shebang.”

With that, some things start to make sense to Myungsoo. “They'll be lucky to have you.”

Unbeknownst to Kotone, her cheeks start to blush. “You and your words again, oppa!”

“I swear those are just my observations.”

= = =

June 2031.

Even after the reunion, the two still hang out. Kotone and Myungsoo still keep in touch, as the latter first suggested, even if they meet less this time. Around two to three times a week, they’d hang out after work with their mutual friends. Other times, it’s just the two of them, which is nothing new, much like tonight.

“Look who just got promoted?” is how she breaks the ice to him during this meetup.

“Seolma… That’s great!” By instinct, excitement fuels him to take her hands while the pitch of his voice goes up. “Chukahaeyo!”

His hand holding on to hers is evoking something strange, but not unfamiliar. Their eyes lock in silence with no exchange of banters, as they both get a feeling of déjà vu. However, such a moment doesn’t fill her mind with expectation, a juxtaposition with how heart is behaving in his presence. Kotone notices everyone else at the cafe giving them different looks, something that doesn’t seem to faze the man in front of him. The man whose eyes are only focused on her. Embarrassment is not what her mind has been warning her. Rather, it’s the same old hindrance that’s holding her back. All those years.

“You can let go now, Myungsoo-oppa,” she tells him, yet she keeps holding on to them.

He senses the discomfort in her voice. Perhaps, that’s not the right word, yet it’s abrupt for him and strange, even for himself. “Oh, right… Mianhae.” He parts from the woman, taking a few steps away from her.

“No, it's okay,” she fixes her hair, placing scattered strands to the side. “You just took me by surprise, that’s all. You were a bit too excited. And it’s my promotion, too,” she tries to lighten up the mood once again.

“Well, it's a big achievement for you,” he defends. “How can I not be happy for you?”

“Gomawo, oppa.”

= = =

Three weeks have passed. Tonight feels different, but maybe that’s just what Myungsoo feels, based on his observation. They feel a bit more distant. Strangely enough, the fact that they're inside a pojangmacha makes him more attentive towards her. It must be the limited space. Or that her cheeks are slowly blushing right after taking down her fourteenth shot of the night.

She’s quieter than usual, he notices her staring into a blank space. “You alright? Or are you gonna rant about it? Hey, you better not be regretting your promotion or something, because you very much deserved that position.”

“Oppa…” she turns to him, ignoring his active concerns and speculation, as one question has been lingering on her mind. “What are we?”

He turns to her without a word, keeping his mouth from opening agape. His reaction is delayed, like a system lagging due to the overloading of data. If he had taken a sip of his shot before that, he would’ve spilled his drink. “Huh? What do you mean, Tone? Your question’s a bit too vague…”

Just like their relationship. Kotone takes a deeper breath than before. Instead of facing him head on, her eyes gaze at a distance, wistful at her thoughts and reminiscing of her past. “Yeah... I know that’s such a cliche thing to say… But, I’ve been thinking of it for a while... That damn question… But then again, you’re not a philosophy professor.”

“If that’s what you mean, uhh, then…” he stammers, hoping that playing along will help him understand what she's talking about. “We’re friends. We’ve always been, aren’t we?”

She feels a clenching and numbing sensation in her chest. It’s temporary, but she knows why she’s feeling like this. To hear that phrase over and over again. It’s exhausting.

“Yeah,” she affirms. “Don’t mind me. I know it’s already been months since the reunion, but I’m just taking us down memory lane. What happened after graduation. It just got me thinking, how, the last time we met, you were also with Yooyeon-unnie. My close friend and fellow Diamond Dreamer.”

“Tone-yah.” He feels discomfort, even from her, since all she’s doing is bringing up his own dating life. Yet, he finds it strange that he himself doesn’t want her to tell all these details. But his mind reminds him of their encounter at the reunion. When she walked up to him and Yooyen. “Where are you going with this?”

“No, no, I’m not jealous or anything,” she slowly rubs the side of her neck. “I was happy for you guys... But now that we’re on this route, I’m just wondering how she’s doing.”

Jealous? Myungsoo’s mind repeats it. He’s not entirely convinced by her words, but he doesn’t want to worsen this moment. He just wants Kotone around. Talk things out in this new perspective, even if it makes him, or even her, uncomfortable. “I mean, with what I know, she’s been doing well now. Always a beloved professor to her classes.”

“Are you not beloved by your students?”

“Well, I had my ups and downs… And—” He realizes Tone’s move. She's trying to change the subject and beating around the bush. “Wait… You’ve caught up with Yooyeon at the reunion, haven't you? Along with your fellow clubmates. She mentioned that. And you walked to us.”

“Ah…” She's running out of ramblings. Out of excuses. “We have, and she looks just as stunning as I last saw her. And most of the members were there, too. Jiwoo. Chaeyeon. Nakyoung-unnie. Everyone had a glow-up. They evolved. They were still so beautiful.”

And so are you. He can’t speak it out, feeling a part of himself keep such words from leaving his mouth. It’s usually not like this, and it’s bugging him.

“I love Yooyeon-unnie. She was always like a sister to me... But after finding out how successful she’s been, how all of them have been, even I knew that I couldn’t have compared to her in a lot of ways—”

“Don’t say that.” He didn’t know what just came to him, but he could only feel his heart constricting, hearing the woman compare herself to his old flame. Her own best friend. Deep down, he knows it’s not all of the sudden. “You’re saying nonsense now. Yooyeon and you are different. Don’t compare yourself to her, or anyone.”

She looks at him, her eyes a veil to various emotions. Disdain. Inferiority. Regret. Determination. Bitterness. Reassurance. False hope. “So how did you see me then, Myungsoo?”

He gulps down his own nervousness, hoping that her words in the past few minutes are simply the result of her less sober state. But he finally gets her to speak out. “Tone-yah. You must already be—”

“Drunk?” she scoffs, knowing him well. Quite too well. “I don’t know. I guess, we’ve had too many of those then. We’ve had this kind of talk too many times for me not to forget. You should know by now that this second bottle doesn’t faze me one bit…”

“Are you sure about that? Because it seems like—”

“I like you, oppa.”

He’s finally at a loss of words, but she still looks at him dead in the eye.

“All those years, I've been idiotic. I'm idiotic right now, too… Just risking our friendship for something I'm not even sure will go anywhere.”

Defeated and dumbfounded by his failure to realize it beforehand, he can only look down while she takes her fifteenth shot.

“I thought that making the reunion would make things like they used to,” she adds. “I mean for a night, it did… And I was so happy about that. I was overjoyed that I didn’t disappoint anyone who made it. Or myself. I mean I did get a promotion after that.”

She pours the last ounce of her bottle, before taking her sixteenth shot without pause. “And then I saw you and Yooyeon together. I know I was happy for you two back then. But, b-but I don't know how else to say it… Seeing you that night. It… It still hurts.”

He feels his heart sink deeper. “Kotone,” Myungsoo wants to say anything else, but he keeps his gaze at her. Amidst her words, he himself is paralyzed in this dilemma. He wants to open his mouth, but she continues her somber, tipsy confession.

She wants to cry. It’s what they usually do in dramas, but weirdly enough, there are no tears left for her tonight. The pang is there, burning through her raging heart with every word she mutters. But she won’t stop until she’s left it all out of her system. “And I know that you’re no longer together, but my stupid brain kept thinking that there could still be a slight chance… So I went up and ruined your moment.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he mumbles back.

“On second thought…” she wheezes, unable to defend her own face of smugness to him, even though he defended her. “Maybe I’ll regret this tomorrow. I’m sorry I wasted your time tonight.”

Slowly, he reaches his hand going to her shoulders, but her eyes catch it from the side. “Don't do anything you'll regret, oppa. Just because you feel bad for me.”

“Then I’ll regret it with you.” Myungsoo raises his bottle. Kotone wants to feel touched, but in her mind, she’s sensed this pattern that’s been irking her in the past few months since they’ve caught up. A pattern that lasted years. His willingness and enthusiasm to hang out with her whenever she invites him, without any question. His long ‘ride or die’ mentality whenever she’s on her low point or even when it’s the silliest of hypotheticals, like now. I know what you’re feeling, but don’t get your hopes up… That’s just how he’s been to you. You’re a close friend. His best girl friend. “Or not at all.”

= = =

“Hnggghhh… Huh..?” Despite feeling the irritating, inconvenient weight of her eye bags, as well as the unpleasant sensation of her parched throat, she opens them to find herself staring at a white ceiling.

Kotone wakes up on the snuggly surface of a bed that she has never lied on in her life, wrapped under a blanket. Inside, she slowly takes a peek of her own body—inducing a sigh of relief with what she has found. Her eyes wander around the room. She hears the door creak while it slowly opens. Her eyes light up in panic but she immediately catches a glimpse of Myungsoo’s face and his waving left hand from the other side as he walks in the bedroom with a mug of coffee. Of course, it’s him. There’s no escaping from this one. She places a nearby pillow on her face, muffling herself as she groans into the cushion.

“Good morn—” he quickly backtracks his choice of words, sensing the not too welcoming atmosphere inside his own room. Not to mention her perplexed face, from her eye bags to her slouched posture, and how she just acted after seeing him. “Or is it not a ‘good morning’ for you? We’re in my place, by the way, if you’re confused.”

“I’ve had worse… But this is a pretty nice bed. Great pillow too,” Kotone puts her right palm on her face, inevitably letting out a groan while her memories just had to remind her of last night. “God, that was really embarrassing of me…”

Myungsoo approaches the bed, sitting beside her. “This will help,” he hands over the mug, which she politely accepts with a slight bow.

“Thanks…” She blows it gently, before her lips touch the latte, welcoming the balance of bitter, sweet, and slightly salty taste entering her palate. “This is, uh, this is really good.”

He can’t help but chuckle, hoping that his lighthearted approach will lighten her up. “It’s from my go-to cafe… It’s just a three-minute walk from here. They’re pretty cheap, too.”

The woman takes another sip of the coffee, wanting to disrupt the silence between them while he waits for her.

“And, as embarrassing as it is,” he continues. “I think it’s not that uncommon to have moments like those. I would’ve brought up more memories myself too… But I think… We still have to talk about something about last night. If that’s fine with you…”

It’s time, she realizes. She places the cup on the nightstand.

“I, uhh, get what you mean, oppa. And, umm… I still mean it,” she tells him up front. “Whatever how you feel, that’ll be your feelings. I just…” She sighs. This shouldn’t be that dramatic, girl, she tells herself. “Confessed my own… And, I can’t take it back.”

He exhaled through his pursed lips. “Why take it back?” he shoots back.

“What?” Befuddled by his blunt response, she doesn’t know how to answer him.

But for Myungsoo, his heart isn’t lying. Neither is hers. “I’ve seen you as a friend for a long time, Kotone. But that doesn’t mean I never saw you as anything more than that.”

“What do you mean, Myungsoo?”

“I wasn’t sure because of how you and I acted whenever we're together… Maybe I was giving you too many mixed messages, ‘cause I kept holding myself back. Perhaps I was just scared that we'd lose everything we had if I said—or did anything funny... And with what happened last night, you were… A lot braver than I am.”

She let out a chuckle. He is not that different. Even he had his own hesitations.

“And with Yooyeon… Even she was bothered at times.” His hand clenches into a fist. “About us being close friends... But I know now, that's not on her. It’s on me. You were never a problem. I was being stubborn against myself, and I ended up breaking people’s hearts. I broke your heart, Kotone. I'm sorry because of that.”

In spite of their fifty-centimeter distance, Kotone doesn’t hesitate to hold his hand. “Don't blame yourself for everything, oppa.”

“I know, but sometimes, I still do. But I shouldn't be scared. And you made me realize that, Kotone... I’ve always treasured our friendship for what it was, but I'll always care about you more than that. Whatever we may be… I don't regret this.”

Dugeun, dugeun. Dugeun dugeun.

“I know it’s stupid to say it nowadays, but I’ve always seen you as a woman.”

His explanation makes her chortle, but such a reaction can't mask her true feelings.

“Myungsoo-oppa…” She stares at the man straight in his eyes. Such a patient yet longing and welcoming gaze from him is something she never thought she would ever get to see. She stands from her seat. “Would you… like to go out with me?”

He chuckles at her more or less act of formality. Instead of answering her with words, Myungsoo stands up and takes a few steps forward towards her, walking past the thin curtains of their friendship, and wraps his arms around the woman he’s been longing to embrace for a time only his beating heart can tell. Kotone tightens his embrace, closing her eyes. Both can only have a laugh, listening to each other’s heartbeats as if they’re headphones for only one ear, or a vibration speaker. He inches away, wanting to see her face.

Just as he expected. Her looking down on the floor, trying to cover up her blushing cheeks. “Yah… Why are you staring at me now?”

“Well, it’s…” He wants to tell her. Tell her an observation that he’s never told her before. “You look so cute… So beautiful... Just like that night. I mean, you always were. I’m sorry if I never got to tell you… I’m sorry it took me so long.”

With her lips shut in wonder, Kotone can’t shoot back a witty quip or begin another banter. This time, only her blushing cheeks and heartbeat answer to his straightforward praise. Not a teardrop is willing to leave her eyes once more, as today, her sense of triumph overcomes any other emotion.

“I’m sorry it took me so long, too,” she musters up to him. That weight on her heart begins to lift up, and it’s the best feeling she’s felt since their reunion.

Despite seeing her joy through her wide smile, Myungsoo senses her hesitation to move closer. He cups her cheeks, warming it up with his hands. Slowly, he pulls Kotone into his lips and tilts his head to the right. Their eyes close at the same time. He savors the sweet and bitter taste of the coffee from her lips, as well as the traces of the grapefruit soju in her mouth, as well as the scent of the fruity perfume he’s given to her. She gets a taste of his menthol toothpaste and a whiff of his aqua cologne; her hands hold on to his sloped shoulders. Feeling her body, his hands move over to her waist.

Their lips part for a second, albeit only to tilt their heads in the opposite direction before resuming their moment and intensifying it by pulling him closer, allowing her hands to clasp around him so they can savor each other’s touch more and feel each other longer.

= = =

The next one will definitely be a smut… I really gotta start writing shorter fics, lol. In the meantime, I'll keep reading and reblogging amazing fics from amazing writers, which I'm sure you're familiar with. As always, thanks for the read. 'til next time!

[astral-herald]

arcane, populism, and why viktor is the odd one out (yet again)

as a piltover-anti, a silco criticizer, and a pacifist, i am very very interested in how arcane presents not just the political undertones of both topside and the undercity, but the characters/dialogue through which they communicate those undertones. allow me to use some political science bro lingo to air out some thoughts.

long, long post incoming.

there are 2 ideological struggles at war throughout s1 (and i can predict that the struggle will carry over into s2): neoliberalism and populism - in their broadest terms since we're talking ofc about a fictional show dealing with surface level political machinations. by neoliberalism, i mean a focus on the social, political, and cultural structures of a polity (piltover, for our purposes) refocused into a strictly economic vacuum. and by populism i mean a unifying belief that the existing political systems of a polity fail to adequately represent their constituents, so the masses choose to rally around a specific gripe or issue, i.e., class discrimination, xenophobia toward immigrants, etc. this, in turn, forms a populist party or movement. an applicable example i can think of would be Nasser's Egypt in the 1950s.

*i know these are weighty topics with very real world implications! i just want to separate the theory to apply to our favorite fictional world.

the political struggle in question is put forward immediately by piltover, who, though presented as a technocratic state, embodies crucial neoliberal ideals emphasized especially by up-and-coming counilor mel medarda, much like how fresh-eyed american economists blew up the economic scene in the 1980s with a revival of capitalist, free market enterprise. take how she seizes the advent of hextech, for example:

she quickly sees hextech's potential yet not from the solely intellectual standpoint that jayce and viktor do - for her, it is profitable, literally and in terms of international relations. her goal is for piltover to prosper, but she has no rose-colored glasses on; prosperity means capital gain, and she's willing to override piltover's political and social systems to achieve her goal. an important caveat is that she draws the line at ambessa medarda's progression into militant authoritarianism, which deserves a whole post of its own!

piltover's populism moment will come later. first, let's unpack silco, who is probably arcane's most blatantly political figure, and a masterclass in the merits and failures of left wing, class-based populism.

silco, having been spurned by the classism and xenophobia that piltover's elite proliferate, and assisted by his rampant shimmer operation, fills the vacuum that vander's pacifism opened up. though silco's methods are unilaterally cruel (argue with the wall), the undercity clearly invested faith in him at some point, especially as vander's credibility as a guiding figure wavered over the years. he was fighting alongside vander for zaun's right to exist as their own independent body. in other words, he was uniting the undercity toward a common cause because the existing political system failed their constituents. to quote councilor shoola: "they may not be our preferred constituents, but they're still our people."

the track record of populism in our real world frequently ends in the ruin that silco himself brought upon the undercity. the kingpin is too dedicated to self-preservation, sees himself as too central to the movement, which prevents both compromise and/or a necessary armed revolt (insert your own politics about self-determination here). see italy's right wing populism party, Lega Nord, as a real-time example of this phenomenon.

but arcane makes an interesting plot decision with jayce, a very unexpected and "unwilling" contributor to piltover's abrupt dip into right wing populism. the showrunners love foils!

in arcane lore, i think it's safe to say that jayce's moniker "the man of progress" is pretty tongue-in-cheek. both he and viktor have a bemused tone about it in the run-up to his speech, and jayce is taken aback by heimerdinger's insistence that he deliver said speech. but the glowing, savior-esque imagery can't be ignored, nor can jayce's quick switch into his councilor role, no matter how reluctantly he makes it.

jayce is confronted by 2 forces that he seeks to combat in his quick tenure as councilor: internal corruption and an ineffective governing body. the latter goal is inspired almost solely by viktor, playing into jayce's naivety as a fresh-faced political figure, but this will be especially important to note later on. the innocence he offers up to mel is quickly erased, transformed instead into an uncomfortable - and inexperienced - militancy:

important in the bridge scene to my analysis is the populist "out group," or the designation populists give to those whom they actively oppose, and this opposition serves as their basis for organization. in this case, it's the undercity (keep this in mind for viktor's role!!).

jayce's combined frustrations at the unrest in the undercity and the council's (namely heimerdinger's) refusal to act, to both save viktor and to deal with the undercity's looming violence, motivates him to act like silco for a short time. unsatisfied with the status quo, he unites a likeminded individual, vi, along with the enforcers, to undercut the political system he feels is unable to represent its constituents or act in an effective manner. however, UNLIKE silco, jayce's realizes the inevitable cost the method of violence has and refrains in the end. he returns to the council and capitulates to some of silco's demands in the name of a peace piltover and zaun always thought impossible.

jinx's complete undoing of this underscores the failures of populism, especially as an extended movement over time. she wasn't accounted for. it's common sentiment at this point that she didn't attack the council for political gain. she was not invested in zaun's independence. she did it out of her and silco's twisted parental bond, and thus undid piltover's brief instance of compromise and compassion.

so...where does viktor fit into all this? and what are his implications for neoliberalism vs. populism in season 2?

viktor is neither wholly within nor wholly outside the populist outgroup - though jayce unintentionally shoves him back there in the pivotal bridge scene. furthermore, viktor also makes use of piltover's technocracy. he seems to have had a "raise yourself up by your bootstraps" history in arcane, contrary to left wing populist insistence that neoliberal ideals make this impossible.

this compounds as a double alienation for viktor, who also is straddled with the complications of his disability. a lot of his story is searching for a fellow in arms, if you ask me, and he had that with jayce until the pendulum swung, hence his return to singed.

if we stop there, viktor represents the failing of these 2 very flawed political ideologies. he fits nowhere and arcane uses him adeptly as a symbol of the failings of binaristic ideologues and systems. but let's speculate some more!

i'm convinced that viktor, due to his ambiguous 3rd party role in the story so far, will be one of the central villains (if not THE villain, if you allow me to be admittedly hopeful/biased) in season 2. consult the innumerable very well written theory/meta posts about the subject for more details, but one piece of evidence i want to focus on is this inherent physical, cultural, and ideological separateness that is innate to his character.

can we see him allying ever again with piltover, knowing that there's a split incoming? even without outside knowledge of league lore, singed's damning prediction ("if you take this path, they will despise you") cannot go unheeded. alternatively, then, can we see viktor allying with the supposed jinx-as-revolutionary side? no. personally, i see him as becoming increasingly unwillingly to compromise his a) immediate survival; and b) his ideals, especially after being endlessly sidelined in his attempts to express them in acts 2 and 3. he's also just a loner, guys.

there's some controversy on this point, but i'm convinced that the finger-printed cultists/followers we saw in the s2 trailer are devoted to viktor. starting with the shimmer addict he touched in the teaser, he is accruing a following all his own. and since noxus is here, touting their authoritarian militancy to replace piltover's outdated liberal ideals, nothing that jinx's revolution OR viktor's following does can be apolitical. to organize and to fight is survival under s2's raised stakes.

there aren't any binary spectrums when it comes to political theory in my opinion, so i am prepared to witness viktor introduce an entirely separate totalitarian narrative into arcane. where it will surely lack in militancy, it will make up for in its domination of the arcane. my biggest speculation is that, as they always do, piltover will fold and compromise at the last minute, perhaps yield to noxus, and invest wholeheartedly in taking down viktor's BBEG cultist regime. and by isolating his narrative repeatedly in s1, the writers planned this out expertly.

even if i'm wrong about viktor as third party, i like to think my observations still stand about the specific and qualifiable political divisions between piltover and zaun. the biggest hole this leaves for me is the question: will arcane ever take a stand? they seem very averse to making a blatant political statement, but i think their pervasive anti-police thread makes it clear that we're not meant to sympathize with piltover yuppies or their seasoned, jaded councilmen. let me know your thoughts!

also, as a jayce fan and a fan of arcane's overall story, none of this is meant as a CRITIQUE of him, mel, or silco. as silco said, "we all have our parts to play." i believe arcane's very greatest strength is their archetypal storytelling, and these distinct character roles are crucial to the success and vibrancy of the story.

if you read all the way to this point - ily <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Collision 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, blood, injury, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you find yourself in the hands of unexpected saviours after an accident.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Helmut Zemo

Note: Sorry about the pause.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You ease back into the bed. Bucky’s shadow lingers before you fade into the haze. There you can’t feel the broken bones, thought which ones can’t be discerned from those still intact. It’s too much pain to pick apart one ache from the other. 

When you come to again, the room is dim. The curtains are drawn against the receding hue of afternoon. You groan as you shift. It’s not quite agony yet, but uncomfortable nonetheless.  

You don’t try to move much further than a twitch or a wiggle. You won’t dare. Not if it means this gets worse. 

You stare at the bell. You're uncertain. You remember Bucky, his gentleness, his help. Yet it seems he did this to you all the same. Or rather that man’s he’s with did. Zemo. That name. A criminal. A terrorist. Why would a hero be hanging out with him? 

It hurts too much to think. It doesn’t matter. If they meant you harm, they would have left you. Bucky says he’s helping. And he has. So far. 

“How are you feeling?” His voice cuts through your thoughts of him. 

You lift your head as much as you can. Bucky stands in the doorway. His shadow crosses the room and he reaches to turn on the lamp beside the grand bed. You watch him. 

“Overhead light’s bright,” he says. “Your head must be going, huh?” 

“A little,” you croak. 

“Have some water,” he taps the brim of the glass on the night stand before he moves closer. 

You lock up, the tension causing a throb in your shoulder, and you let him bring you up to sitting. You feel a bit stronger than before but wobble like jelly in his hold. He takes the glass and brings it to your lips. You drink cautiously. 

“I’m--” 

“Sorry?” You finish before him. 

He pauses, “yeah, I keep... saying that, don’t I?” 

“Mm,” you hum. 

“Well...” 

“What... what happened to me?” 

He sniffs, “I’ve been trying to figure that out. I mean--” He combs his fingers through his hair. “I know what happened...” he puts the glass down. “That-- guy I’m with knocked the building you were in down but you weren’t supposed to be there.” 

“I-- but--- the interview,” you scrunch up your face as you think. 

“Was across the street.” He crosses his arms. 

Your eyes search the wall. “Oh.” 

Another stupid mistake and this one nearly got you killed. You swear you checked the email a dozen the times. The map app was a bit back and forth on the way but you just thought it was your natural lack of direction. Well, so it seems, it was. 

“If I knew innocent people could be hurt,” he says. 

You blink. You’re too weak to dwell on it. It’s all you can do to keep from whimpering. He stares at you. 

“You’re in pain? Or am I making it worse?” 

You choke out a breath. “no, you’re not... I’m just... I feel... unattached to my body. I don’t know. It's hard to... um...” You let your head fall to the side. 

“I know what you mean,” he frowns. 

“Soldat,” the slither makes you tense and grunt. Bucky’s cheeks visibly tick. His eyes drag to the door. “I knew I’d find you close to the damsel.” 

“Zemo,” Bucky’s posture turns rigid as he faces his colleague.  

“Ah, and she is awake. How unfun.” 

Bucky repeats his name and receives a mocking chortle in return. 

“I kid. How is the broken bird? Is she ready to fly?” 

Bucky growls and rolls his shoulders. 

“I am compassionate my mighty soldat,” Zemo taunts. 

“You know my name.” 

“Yes, but you do not give me that delightful snarl when I say it,” he cackles. “Anyhow, the lady, she would require some... upkeep. To wash. And I thought we might offer a sponge bath or some--” 

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Bucky bristles. 

“I’m certain it’s all you can think of,” the other man chimes. 

“And you don’t think,” he retorts. “I’ll deal with it.” 

“Oh, surely.” 

“Quit.” 

“Quit? What? I am being considerate,” Zemo shrugs. 

“I think I could manage--” 

You try to push yourself up. Bucky spins and shows a palm, “please, careful,” he warns, “In due time.” 

“Oh, certainly--” Zemo begins. 

“I said stop,” Bucky snaps then pinches his nose. “She’s bad enough without you.” 

“Mm, yes, such a pest I am. I’ve provided her this respite to recover. A bed, a room, whatever she may ask...” he nears the foot of the bed, “and she will have it.” 

“What about me? Because I’m asking you to go,” Bucky sneers. 

Zemo laughs again. “You are smart, yes? They certainly unscrambled your brain.” 

Bucky moves faster than anyone you’ve seen. He has Zemo by the throat as he growls. He only gets a snort in return. 

“Oh, go on then, break my neck. See if that will cozen her,” Zemo teases. Bucky shoves him away. “As it were,” Zemo rubs his neck as he leans to see around the other man, “if there is anything I might do or acquire on your behalf, very well let me know, darling.” 

You can only stare. Bucky shoos him with his fingers. They glare at each other for a moment before Zemo leaves with a ‘ta’. 

Bucky turns to you. You look at him. “Can I sleep a bit longer?” 

“Sure,” he answers. 

“Thanks,” you rasp and try to get comfortable. 

“Is it bad? Do you want help?” He moves up the side of the bed. 

“Please, I don’t think... I’ll just close my eyes,” you assure him. 

He sighs, “alright...” 

“I... thank you. I... I appreciate it.” 

“Don’t. Please. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. Not again,” he sniffs. “I’ll make it up to you.” 

“You already have,” you assure. “You saved me.” 

His blue eyes swim as he watches you. His forehead creases and his cheek twitches. You shut your eyes and sink into the pillows. It’s easier to just block it all out. 

💞

You second meal is easier to digest. Bucky places a tray over your lap and you manage to grip the spoon yourself. He hovers, watching as if you might choke at any moment. You take your time, your body adjusting to the movement and the food. 

“Do you prefer honey or sugar?” Zemo draws Bucky’s dull gaze as he strides in, a cup and saucer in his hands. 

“What is that?” Bucky asks. 

“Well, my dear American companion, we serve tea in this sort of china--” 

“Why?” Bucky undercuts. 

Zemo’’s cheeks dimple and his lashes flick, “I am doing my part. And as I am host, I should display my hospitality in full.” 

“Display? Huh,” Bucky sets his feet wide, “no one needs to see your chest hair.” 

Zemo looks down at his shirt, the top three buttons undone. He tilts his head at his companion as you sit silent. Too confused and weak to interject. 

“So uptight,” Zemo comes towards you and places the saucer next to the bowl of soup. “Darling, I apologise for him. He was programmed to be this way--” 

“Don’t,” Bucky warns. 

“Yes, yes, he is not that soldier anymore, forgive me. He is a fine man,” he stays close, his back to the other man. “Listen, it was me who placed the explosives. Had I known you’d be there, I surely wouldn’t have hit that button--” 

“Would you leave her alone?” Bucky grabs him and spins him away. 

“Take your own advice,” Zemo brushes Bucky’s grip away. “How do you think she feels? You’re here, like some mother hen, clucking around--” 

“Better than your yammering--” 

“Please, Barnes, let us save this venom for closed doors. It is not etiquette to be so uncouth in front of company.” 

“You started it,” Bucky sneers. 

“How mature,” Zemo pats his arm with his knuckles and faces you. “So, honey? Sugar? Anything I might fetch you?” 

You shake your head, “erm... thanks.” 

“Yes, of course, I hope you enjoy. I wasn’t sure of what you would prefer. It is a white tea. Keeping in mind your current state, a black brew might be too much,” he explains. 

“Thinks so much of the tea but not the one thing I told you.” Bucky grumbles. 

“Yes, yes, well, we are both old dogs with bad habits,” Zemo turns to him again. “Aren’t we?” 

Bucky growls. He peeks at you then exhales. 

“We’ll leave you alone,” he says. 

You nod. The men don’t move. They just stare at each other. 

“After you,” Zemo gestures to the door. 

“I insist,” Bucky doesn’t budge. 

“Ah but that would be rude of me--” 

“Just--” Bucky blusters and storms toward the other man.  

He grabs him by the arm and marches him to the door. He shoves him through then spins and pulls it shut behind him. The snap of wood makes you flinch. 

How strange this all is. 

💞

Breathless, you curl forward over your lap. The silk pajamas are cold against your skin. You have no idea where they came from, you didn’t have a mind to think of what you’re wearing through all the pain and confusion. 

You heave a breath and whine. It took all your effort to get to the edge of the bed. You need to use the bathroom but have no idea where it is. Or if you’ll make it that far. 

You stay like that, gathering what little strength you have. You lift your shoulders just a little and sidle closer to the end post. You grip the wood and bite down. You slide off the bed and your soles hit the floor. You cling to the bed and whimper. 

It’s a mistake. 

Your legs tremble and your single arm isn’t enough to hold you up. The door swings open as you tip and you’re caught with a jarring force that send a twang through your shoulder. You screech as Zemo hooks his arms behind you and grunts as he moves you back to the bed. 

“Ah, little bird, you’ve fallen from your nest,” he muses as he fixes the collar of the lush pajama shirt. “Be careful--” 

“Sorry, I... I... the... bathroom,” you puff out. “I... I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, I did warn him you are human. You have needs beyond his pecking,” Zemo tuts, “Yes, I can assist.” 

He turns and sits next to you. He snakes his arm across your back. He takes your uninjured one and guides it behind his neck. 

“Shall I count?” He offers. You’re silent. “One three. One, two, three--” 

He stands you up and you falter. You squeak and panic, leaning into him as you hook your arm around his neck and face him. Your press your cheek to his shirt and moan. 

“Oh, darling,” his hand brushes down your side. “Never fear, I mightn’t be enhanced but I might do.” 

He bends slowly and angles you around. He scoops you up in his arms and you groan. The dearth beneath you makes you dizzy. 

“Hm, yes, let us get you to where you need--” he drawls as he approaches the door. 

He stops shorts as a sole scuffs. Your head lolls over as Bucky appears in the frame. He is in a robe, his hair damp, the smell of aftershave rippling from his freshly shaved jaw. You shrink into Zemo. 

“What are you doing?” Bucky snarls. 

“Helping,” Zemo retorts. “As you are in your self-care era, I am helping this one care for herself.” 

“Where are you taking her?” 

“Is nothing sacred? This soul deserves her privacy,” Zemo steps forward. “She requires to tend her most human needs.” 

Bucky squints then winces. “Oh, uh...” 

“Yes, so I am only helping as she is struggling to convey herself.” 

“I can help--” 

“You can move. We haven’t time to argue. I feel her squirming.” 

You murmur and let your head fall next to Zemo’s. Bucky sniffs but retreats. Zemo continues out of the room and into the high-ceilinged hall. Your eyes roll over the walls as he strides along to a door. Bucky reaches past him to twist it and pushes it inward. 

“Ah, see, we work well together,” Zemo reproaches as he steps inside. “I will set you down now, my darling.” 

“Yes,” you utter, “thank you.” 

He places you on a cushioned stool near the long counter before antique mirrors. The bathroom is spacious and smells of artificial rain scent. He helps you steady yourself and toys with the satin along your shoulder. 

“She doesn’t need an audience,” Bucky snarls. 

“Certainly,” Zemo draws back and faces the other man. “But wouldn’t it be amusing.” 

You groan as your muscles quiver. You wait until the door closes, then let yourself slouch once more. He did most of the work but just getting off that stool will sap the last of your strength. 

[gothwineaunts]

Hello this is the anom who asked about “IF you were skipping the focus on Annabel and Lenore”. I want to clear up some misunderstandings because I don’t think people have understood that I asked about this question WITH GENUINE INTENTIONS.

1. I’m not going to disclose where I’ve heard this, I should have been clear on the fact that the source of where I heard about this rumor from, was not sure if it was true themselves. I asked this question on the curiosity about IF IT WAS TRUE OR NOT. I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear on that.

2. Yes I have noticed people hating on montresor, I AM ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE.

3. I don’t think you are skipping the focus on Lenore nor Annabel. AGAIN I ASKED WITH GENUINE INTENT BECAUSE I WAS NOT SURE WHAT I HEARD WAS TRUE.

4. Thank goodness you’re addressing on how weird those montresor fans are.

5. No it’s not because people are mad about lennabel not kissing each other yet, I asked for the sake of those worried about the rumor.

6. I didn’t mean to offend you at all, I was thinking about how to ask you about this rumor because I wanted you to confirm if it was true or not. I’m really sorry if I was not clear about that.

(And to the person telling me to get my co2 detector to get checked out, what I said was not made up?? God forbid someone wants to ask a genuine question ABOUT SOMETHING THAT THEY GENUINELY LOVE. DID YOU KNOW I’VE BEEN HERE SINCE THE START OF SEASON 1? Did you actually think I had malicious intentions?? You’re the one who needs to get checked out, if you thought that what I asked, was asked with malicious intent. Sleep with both eyes open shortazn97.)

I hope it clears up my intentions.

There's exactly one (1) part of this ask that I care to address and I'm very sorry to all who have been subjected to the rest of the tirade as a result. If I could crop most of it out, believe me I would. Addressing your #4 point. That threw me for such a loop that I had to reread my own post to figure out what you meant by it, and my best guess is that you thought when I said: "I'm sick to death of people being weird about Montresor. Some of you out there really need to learn what a villain is, it's frankly wild how much confusion there seems to be around this concept." that you think that I'm talking about people who like Montresor. Which, I'd like to correct. I thought I was fairly clear but I want to put the finest point possible on this. Villains make the conflict happen. You do not need to agree with what a villain is doing to enjoy them as a character. And of course you're more than welcome to not enjoy villains, but what you don't have is any right to insult and harass people who do. Because, (and please listen to me so carefully because I'm tired of people not understanding the irony of this) that would make you the villain. But like, irl. Not dissimilar to how threatening harm on someone who left a lighthearted comment about checking your CO2 detector would?? Which, like. Hon you're really not doing yourself any favors here. This entire ask reads like it could have been desperately scratched into a wall somewhere in the backrooms. Yeesh. I was not insulted by your initial ask, I was just commenting about how the rumor you mentioned in the ask was insulting in its premise. And I am not going to answer any follow-ups to this one. You can type one up if you want, but it'll be dying in my inbox. I'm glad that it seems like you have been enjoying Nevermore and thank you for your support. Peace and love. ✌️

[onesiesdaydream]

Whiskey Eyes I Chuuya Nakahara x Reader (Part 2)

Part 1 I Part 2

Summary: Chuuya stumbles home piss-drunk in the dead of night. Safe to say, you were both in for a really long night.

A/N: Sorry for having to make this two parts, it exceeded Tumblr's character limit per post so I had to split it :/

TW: Mentions of puking and hangovers.

MASTERLIST

You woke to the sound of retching.

The kind that echoed sharply against bathroom tile—all hollow force and regret. You blinked against the pale light creeping in through the blinds and instinctively reached for the other side of the bed. Empty. Cold.

Another gag. A muffled curse.

You were on your feet before your toes even registered the chill of the floor on your bare feet.

The bathroom door was half-shut, dull light spilling into the hallway. You pushed it open slowly and found him hunched over the toilet, shirtless, knees pressed to the cold tile, one trembling hand braced against the wall. He hadn’t noticed you yet—too focused on breathing between waves of nausea.

You knelt beside him, gathering his damp hair away from his face before tying it back in a loose bun. His skin was clammy. The sharp tang of bile and stale whiskey clung to the air.

“Hey,” you murmured. “You’re alright. Just let it pass.”

He groaned, eyes fluttering open just enough to glance at you—bloodshot and heavy with shame.

“I’m fine,” he rasped.

You rolled your eyes, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “If you were fine, I wouldn’t be finding you on the bathroom floor at 7 AM.”

He let out a sound caught between a cough and a miserable laugh, resting his forehead on his arm. “You didn’t have to get up.”

“You think I’m gonna let you die of alcohol poisoning alone in the bathroom?” Your tone was light, but your fingers were gentle as they traced slow circles between his shoulder blades.

Another groan. He swallowed hard, trying to steady his breathing. “I don’t even remember coming home.”

“You hit on the toaster and gave me a bottle cap like it was a wedding ring.”

A weak laugh escaped him, barely more than an exhale. “Romantic. Bet I was real smooth.”

“Like sandpaper,” you said, nudging his shoulder with yours. “But at least you remembered where home was.”

You reached for the washcloth draped over the sink, soaked it in cold water, and pressed it to the back of his neck. He shuddered, then slumped against you with a defeated sigh.

For a while, the only sounds were his ragged breaths and the drip of the faucet. You kept running your fingers through his hair, slow and steady, anchoring him.

Then, quietly, he spoke again

“I hate this part,” he mumbled. “Waking up and knowing you had to deal with me like that.”

You didn’t answer right away. Just reached for the mouthwash in the cabinet and handed it to him once he’d leaned back.

He took it with a shaky grip, swished, spat, then let his head thud against the toilet. He gave a breathy, miserable laugh and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry. For always putting this bullshit on you.”

“You didn’t put anything on me,” you said, watching as he swished another shot of the mouthwash and spat. “I’d rather have you home and hungover than not at all.”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then leaned heavily against the wall, eyes closed.

You stayed by his side as the silence settled again, your fingers never leaving his hair. It was the kind of quiet that carried weight—not tension, but something softer. Something full of the unspoken.

You stayed like that for a while, tucked into the quiet hush of the morning, the kind that only existed before the world woke up—before traffic, before sunlight fully reached the floor, before the weight of the day settled in. You didn’t rush him. Just held his hand and let him exist exactly as he was—messy, hungover, but still him.

Eventually, he shifted, just enough to press a kiss to the side of your head. It was barely more than a whisper of warmth, but it was real.

“Thank you,” he murmured against your temple. “For staying. For not hating me when I’m like this.”

You turned your head to meet his tired gaze, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “I love you, even when you’re like this,” you said. “And when you’re not.”

He shifted, just enough to rest his head against your shoulder, the curve of his body leaning into yours with quiet trust. His breath was warm against your neck, still unsteady but slowing, like the worst of the storm had passed.

“You know I don’t mean to make it hard,” he murmured, voice low and rough.

“I know,” you whispered, your hand finding his and giving it a light squeeze. “You just do, anyway.”

That earned you the tiniest smile.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, tilting his head enough to look at you. His eyes were still red, still tired—but clearer now. “Dinner. A real one. No whiskey. Just one bottle of wine. Flowers, maybe. You deserve flowers.”

You laughed softly, pressing your forehead to his. “You don’t have to buy me flowers. Just… come home safe and sober next time. And maybe don’t flirt with the toaster.”

He chuckled—a real one this time, hoarse but genuine. “Deal.”

You helped him up slowly, easing him toward the sink. He rinsed his face while you grabbed a clean towel which he patted gently against his cheeks.

“C’mon,” you said, guiding him out of the bathroom. “Let’s get you back in bed before the hangover decides to fight round two.”

He let you lead him, head bowed, one arm slung around your waist for balance. And when you finally got him settled again—new shirt, water and bucket by the bed, the morning sun stretching golden across the floor—he pulled you in close and tucked his face into your neck.

“Don’t go so far,” he whispered, already half-asleep.

You smiled into his hair, your hand resting over his heart.

“Not a chance.”

[marikosfragrance]

BLUE LOCK

<*><*><*><*><*><*><*><*><*><*>

Characters : Seishiro Nagi, Mikage Reo, Shidou Ryusei, Bachira Meguru

Contents : My thoughts on whether or not they'll actually fall in love? Depending on the character, how long will it take? And what conditions must be met for it to happen? And, depending on the character, will they not fall in love at all?

Note : Please keep in mind that this is my own interpretation of how characters will take on this situation and act on them, I don’t however assume and force this into a canonical aspect, I am not the creator of Blue Lock so take this post however you'd like if it is canon enough for you, or if it isnt, everyone has their own interpretations on each characters, but I am merely showcasing how I interpreted them, taking heed of the information in the manga and anime at hand, as I am trying to understand their character. There might be some information that lacks, maybe in the case of shidou, but it is only because we havent caught a glimpse of his past yet, and thus I am unable to fully grasp his entire characters, but once again, this is just my own interpretation. Thank you, and enjoy reading.

Nagi Seishiro

Can they fall in love? : Too lazy for it. I am sure Nagi can feel things, and develop feelings, but he wouldn't outright desire for the feeling of love. Nagi is described as laid back, unbothered, and deems hard work as an irrelevance. In the Nagi movie, this is further proved when he mentions how working hard, for academics, clubs, and love is a hassle and too much work for him. He sees himself in a future where he isn't working, is living good and satisfied and he sees it as enough for him.

But then again—

Nagi is no doubt still a human. So despite him not seeing it in his future, there is no room for guarante that he won't fall in love especially with the right person for him. Nagi fits into one of those tropes where the character can fall in love and develop feelings for someone, but they never envision it for themselves, yet they find it coming to them at the most unexpected times, then suddenly their whole view on it changes and they see themselves being with that person. Nagi wouldn't directly try and find love, he isn't desperate nor does he feel like it. However, in his case, if he were to fall in love, it would be in a situation where love comes to him.

How long would it take? : 5-6 months? Nagi might start falling in love in that duration, but he won't recognize the feeling until someone brings it up which would take more than 5-6 months for sure.

What conditions should be met? :

1. That other person initiates. I cannot see him being the first to do the "forming of connection".

2. That person respects his boundaries and doesn't try forcing him to do things outside of his comfort zone, unless he has already started to have feelings, if that person tries to force him to do something, only at the beginning of their growing connection, Nagi would view them as a hassle and it might cause some strains in their relationship.

3. However, by the end of it, Nagi is someone that probably won't have any room for complaints if someone truly wishes to be with him. For him, deep inside— no one would put up with him as much as that person that is trying their best to make a connection with him.

Reo being one of the few people that he views as someone he has become attached to, is a great example.

But if someone wants a deep, romantic connection, it wouldn't be so problematic compared to others. That person just has to initiate.

Mikage Reo

Can they fall in love? : Yes, he can. I don't see Reo being unable to fall inlove.

Reo is someone that is sociable and just from this alone says a lot about his character. He is able to form connections, socialize, make meaningful relationships with people. It wouldn't be surprising if he does indeed fall inlove.

How long will it take? : For Reo, it depends. The person has to be constantly involved in his life if ever that person wants to speed up the process. However, I believe Reo will try to also keep his mind to his success, such as soccer and winning the world Cup. He has grown up being dissatisfied with gaining things as easily with a snap of his fingers. For him, soccer is a way for him to redeem and prove himself, to both his parents and his own sense of self. Unless that person really catches his attention, I think he would fall in love, acts on it but only develop it further once he achieved his dream.

He would fall in love, that's for sure but he is responsible and if he sets his eyes on a goal, i feel he wouldnt be the type to back down on it. He also manages his time responsibly in which might aid him into giving time for the person that he fancy, but he would only further develop the relationship once he has his goals cleared up or achieved.

How long would it take? : I think if he has a type, he would stick with it, but maybe he would reconsider if the person intrigues him greatly.

If the person is his type, attraction would take a week and falling inlove in a month or more. But if the person isn't his type, it would take him around 4 months at the least, or more if ever.

What conditions must be met for him to fall inlove?:

1. He finds time.

2. The person intrigues him

I can place more, but it might feel forced so let's stick with this for now. Reo is responsible than most characters in blue lock, he has a broad view of how social circles work, and has a deep understanding with making connections. He can fall inlove and exert time to it if he sees the person as worthy of it.

I cannot see him wasting time on fleeting relationships, if he falls in love— he is serious.

Shidou Ryusei

Can they fall in love? : Absolutely. Shidou is a free person— someone that even chains have nothing against to. He feels whatever he likes. Does whatever he wants, and proceeds to life how he sees it. His character is quite complex for me to understand with the lack of information, on his character and his past. But with the information I currently have on him, in the anime, manga and the trivia. I can tell that shidou is someone that embodies the concept of freedom. For him, he also has his own philosophy on life and stays true to it. I feel like if someone just matches his vibe, doesn't restrain him, and will accept him for who he is, he would feel accepted and eventually fall for that person.

That person doesn't necessarily have to match his vibe, that person can also be someone that keeps him grounded and knows when to step up. But someone that matches how he does things can also make him "explode".

How long would it take : With the right action, it wouldn't take so long. Maybe even a few weeks, if done right. However, if the person is someone that doesnt show their emotions often, it might take a bit longer, but still not as long as the others, Shidou is upfront about his feelings, so if he feels the slightest thing for a person, he isn't afraid to own up to it which is why it wouldn't take so long for him.

What conditions must be met :

1. That person isn't someone that restricts his freedom.

2. The person can accept him for who he is.

3. That person can make him "explode" or so he says, which I think means— make him excited or makes him feel like his freedom is understood

In short, absolutely. He can fall inlove. But the person also has to be someone accepting. I think personality wouldn't matter much, nor the face or physical features, what matters to him is someone that can either keep him grounded and understands his freedom but still refrain him from overdoing things, or someone that understands his concept as a whole and embodies it themselves and also does things that matches his.

Bachira Meguru

Can they fall in love? : Yes, Bachira can fall in love. Bachira is someone that has their fear of being alone, the fear of loneliness. For me, it wouldn't be too unusual if he even craves something like love. Currently, friends that can play soccer with him is already enough to satiate his loneliness however, if someone is willing to love him, I dont see him being the one to complain— he might even just accept then there and then if he sees himself with that person.

But it doesn't mean he just accepts whoever shows interest in him. Bachira has endured loneliness in the past but that doesn't make him desperate to the point of letting anyone that has interest in him, date him on the spot. He can be aware of things, and understand situations. Bachira might fall for anyone with the right intentions. Or those he deems interesting and have formed an emotional connection over.

But if he feels they are it— Bachira would start to cling to this said person, his loneliness dependant on them.

How long would it take : A month atleast. But if they are someone that Bachira can tell is kind, or someone that has no ulterior motive, or just simply interests him, he wouldn't be afraid to fall for that person, even if the fear of being left alone is there deep inside. A month, or less.

What conditions must be met :

1. That person must be someone he has formed an emotional connection with.

2. He wouldn't be picky, he might even feel like no one would want him deep down inside.

3. If someone shows interest in him, they must have their attention all on him, no secondary interest, no any room left for other people, otherwise Bachira's fear of being left alone and abandonment would trigger and he might start to doubt.

In short, yes he can. But I see Bachira as someone that doesnt want to endure the hurt of being left alone, so he must really be sure this person won't do it. If he starts dating someone, he would no doubt treasure them deep down inside, thinking no one else other than this person would want to be with him.

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

[promise-of-soup]

｡･:*:･ﾟ☆Favourite's Privilege｡･:*:･ﾟ

𓆩♡𓆪 Part two of Picking Favourites 𓆩♡𓆪

✧.*Synopsis: Since finding out he's your favourite Ghoul, Jiro has been acting... the exact same. Things take a turn when it becomes time for him to sleep over in your dorm again, does he not get special favourite's privilege?

✧.*Tags? Jiro Kirisaki x Reader, Fem MC, no spesific physical descriptor for MC beyond being shorter than Jiro and being refered to as "small" for the same reason, extra pining, Jiro is annoying, some fluff, SMUT: Dom!Jiro, Sub!Reader, 0.2 seconds of masturbation, unprotected sex (stay safe kiddos), posessive!Jiro, Jiro loses his composure, fingering, kind of aggressive sex?, dirty talk -- degradation and praise, size kink (oops), stomach buldge, the writer is way too into Jiro Kirisaki :(

✧.*Notes? not sure if anyone saw my 'upcoming' post, but this was meant to be 1/2 seperate Jiro smuts. I am also writing a non-smut Jiro thing now lolol. still unsure if said thing is part 3 to this or not. but yeah, thank you to everyone who requested a part 2 to this, I will continue to write Jiro the most out of all the characters lolololol, also we all agree that Jiro has a really high libido, right?

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰ ───

The questioning has not stopped.

Yet another exhausting week at Darkwick. It didn't even feel like a week, quick as if only two days had passed but dragged out for longer than a year. A mission you barely got out of alive, a pile of homework you barely got around to thinking of, and a constant buzz of questioning from your friends and allies alike... At this point you had contemplated adding everyone to a group chat, sending the message "Jiro is my favourite, stop asking." and exiting out of it in an instant so you wouldn't need to deal with it further. You love them all, of course you do, and you want them all to feel that love, but it has been getting tiresome repeating the same answers again ang again on top of dealing with everything else you've got going on.

Honestly, it's not been that bad, but you're so tired and overwhelmed that even a single mention of the topic is enough to annoy you... You need to catch your breath for a second.

It's getting late, your day only ended an hour ago or so, so stress clings to you still. You've freshly showered, freshly free from responsibility, and finally able to catch your breath, just as you had asked for.

Sighing, you fall to your bed, lights still on... You just want a second before you make plans for the rest of the evening; you could sleep, catch up on some reading, watch a movie, listen to some music... the possibilities are as endless as your room itself... so not that endless, but still vast. Right now, staring at the ceiling is the most appealing thing for you, allowing your thoughts to catch up with you after they were forced to chase you down all week.

It doesn't take long for these thoughts to drift...

Jiro has been acting so strange all week, or at least you'd call it strange, you're unsure what would be the best way to describe it.

After he acknowledged his status as your favourite once, he never brought it up again. He remained unchanged against it all, still constantly behind you, still constantly hard to read.

But then your thoughts drift further...

When he was in your bed that morning his hands felt so warm around you. You wiggle yourself under the covers, bunching up the blanket and bringing it up to your face. You had no time to change your bedsheets this week, which is not a good habit, but you can still faintly make out his scent.

You didn't see him much during the week, but at one point you were both waiting for class to start with your backs to the wall and he suddenly turned around to tower over you, protecting you from an accidental avalanche of books hurled from the hands of a passerby. He leaned his elbow against the wall and looked down at you from so far high, his expression blank. Your probably looked so pathetic looking up at him with a heated face, but he just readjusted his glasses and commented that "Your heart rate is abnormally high."

When you woke up beside him, he bent your torso so easily, as if you were a piece of paper. He's so strong, isn't he? He could have probably spread your legs apart with a single finger and--

Your face is so warm as you nuzzle against the covers, your body has moved to the same position he put you in then, and you have unknowingly slid your hand through your panties, slowly circling your clit through the thin fabric.

--Fuck you whichever way he wanted.

Pleasure shoots through your body as your imagination finally roams free, allowing you to imagine such perverted things about your friend is so gross of you, it wasn't his fault he got hard in his sleep - oh, how good he felt against you for that one moment.

A knock on the door causes your whole body to jump back into reality, your hand immediately being over your chest and your eyes opening wide.

"Fuck, what now?" you mutter under your breath as you open the door, sighing.

"Hey." It's Jiro.

You look away, avoiding his gaze, you were just about to touch yourself to the thought of him, and now he's here, how are you meant to look him in the eyes?

"Can I come in?" he asks.

Oh yeah, it's been a week. Tomorrow you have another anomolous combat class. You completely forgot to pay attention to what day it was. It's a good thing you insisted he knocked. A few months ago he would have walked right in with dead-silence and found you where you were.

You move to let him in, still in silence and still unable to look at him.

"You smell good." Is what you manage to say, good for you.

"Oh, I showered before I came here." at least he didn't find it a weird thing to say... You hope.

You try again, "How a-are you?"

"I feel good, Yuri just gave me medication," he walks through your dorm room, towering over everything, "And you?"

"That's good," your voice is a shriek, you have to control yourself better, so you take a deep breath, "I-I'm a bit tired."

Jiro sits on the edge of your bed, manspreading. He takes off his glasses and cleans them with the edge of his casual pajama shirt. You look him up and down and lick your lips involuntarily, he looks so-

He puts his glasses back on and turns to look at you, blinking, "You're staring at me again."

You jolt nervously, throwing your hands up and shaking them as if to reject what he is saying, "Again?" you ask.

"Yeah," he chuckles, "You've been doing it a lot lately."

Honesty is not the best course of action here, "You're handsome."

...fuck.

"Me?" he asks, snickering at you with his eyebrows quirking down slightly, as if he does not believe it. Maybe he doesn't.

You blink blankly, dumbass, why did you say it out loud.

"Come here." Jiro says with a friendy tone, but when you look at him to confirm where 'here' is, you see that he is pointing to his legs, gesturing for you to sit on him.

You walk stiff with your hands glued to the side of your body, and pause when you're standing right beside his thigh.

"You're being so weird," he chuckles, and his tone is still friendly as he asks you to "Sit." yet he grabs you by the arm and pulls you down as a suggestion of sorts, unforcefully. You take the lead and sit over his thighs with your legs to the side, looking straight ahead at the nice looking wall.

Jiro's face shuts in on itself as he lets out a deep chuckle, "Aren't I your favourite?" he asks, "Don't I get any special privileges?"

You can feel your walls tighten around nothing, your whole body stiff, but you do your best to turn to face him, just a bit, "L-like, hm," you cough, "Like what?"

He doesn't answer, and his expression doesn't shift. Instead, he grabs one of your legs and brings it across his thighs so that you are straddling him, forced to look him in the eyes, as he pulls you by the lower back so that your pelvises touch. Your eyes widen and dart down as you feel his hard length against your core, he makes sure you know he's hard, by grabbing your hand and putting it between your bodies as he asks, "Do you want me?" he is serious.

"I- I- hm, wh-" speaking proves difficult for you, as your walls tighten around nothing again.

"I gave you a lot of hints," he confesses, "You've been quite bad with picking up on them."

He is so, so hard. But his length feels massive against you, strained by layers of fabric, you're unsure if you could even take him, but your core beckons for him by growing wetter and wetter by the second, trying to pull him in without you having to do anything. You look down at the place where your bodies meet, and then at him, and then again, unable to form a coherent sentence that shows him just how much you want him.

When you don't answer, he makes sure you're alright, or more so, asserts that you are, "You don't seem uncomfortable, but if you are I apologize and we can pretend I-"

"I do." You manage, finally, "I do want you. Really really badly." the last part comes out more like a moan than a sentence, but it's enough to make him laugh at you again, and to kiss you.

The kiss is intense. You pull him closer by the neck and the hair, grinding down on him very slightly while his hands roughly explore your body. He breaks the kiss to instead kiss your jawline, making you moan and grind on him faster. He moves back to your lips, this time with more intent, pushing you down along the bed with ease.

Jiro looks down at you, leaning over his hands, he looks so different than he usually does; almost animalistic. His dark hair hangs over his eyes, making a faint light shining a white streak over his glasses, and darkening his gaze. You realize how big he is compared to you, caging you just by being above you, but you're never scared of him, even now, when he looks so dangerous; you look up at him with excitment, helping him slide your shirt over your head and throw it aside. You're not wearing a bra, you didn't remember he'd come over, and yet he smiles at that as if you had intent hidden behind the decision.

He lowers himself with a smooth motion to grind against your core, "Mine." he claims next to your ear, pushing his torso into yours again and kissing your neck so roughly.

"Y-Yours?" it sounds like a question, but you meant it as a statement.

Jiro's laughter shoots directly to your core as his eyes darken even more than they already did, "Of course you are," he continues kissing lines from your neck to your jaw, staying in some spots to ensure a mark is left, "Everyone knows, right?" he whispers, "Everyone knows I'm your favourite, that you're mine."

"I- yours." you nod, whimpering as he sucks a spot on your neck. You are reminded of your worries from before as he grinds into you again, Jiro can see it in your eyes, and rises to his knees to pull your pajama pants down.

"I'll prep you," he reassures, "Don't worry."

You nod again, cold from his sudden absence over the top half of your body.

Jiro scoffs at you, and you look down to see what he's reacting to. Your bare thighs are covered in slick wetness, having spread from your soaked through panties. This is the most wet you've ever been, and you're not sure if it's embarrassing or hot, but the way Jiro looks at it makes it feel hot.

He undoes his pants and boxers and discards them altogether, and oh, how your worries have been confirmed... He is huge. You don't think you can fit it in. Noticing your panic, Jiro leans down, rubbing his tip against your folds in a teasing manner, "You can take it right?"

The moan that leaves you is more akin to a scream, it feels so good and yet your walls clench and your panic grows, "You- You said you'd-"

He coos at you for a change, like you do to him when he's feeling weak, "I will, just wanted to see your reaction." which apparently makes him chuckle again.

Jiro uses his fingers to collect the wetness from your thighs, smoothing it across your clit, you shiver.

"You're so reactive," he comments, sliding his finger down from your clit and into your hole, "I wanna make you scream."

Your eyes widen at that, but you have no time to process as he sets an intense pace with his finger. He only put in a single finger, but you feel your walls clench around him, sucking him in, and he makes sure to tell you that "You're so tight," Jiro uses another finger to abuse your clit. He's so fast and rough, and you writh under his merciless pace, his finger feels so good as he fucks it in and out of you, circling your clit to make sure you are more susceptible and willing to his sudden insertion of another finger.

"N-ah! Jiro-" The sudden fullness causes you to arch your back. His finger alone was long and wide enough to fill you nearly all the way, and now with a second finger, you feel like you're burning.

"You can take it," he tells you, "It feels good, right?"

He scissors his fingers open, as far as they'd go within your tight walls, going back to fucking you on them but with this new motion added in. "Feels so good, so- ah! ah- Jiro, please please-"

He opens and closes his fingers, stretching you out so good as he continues circling your clit.

The coil in your stomach snaps at once, and you cum violently over his fingers, coating them with a thick layer of slick -- but he doesn't stop. He continues fucking his fingers into you with just as much vigour as before, if not faster, and continues circling your clit. He places his other arm along your torso, holding you down so that you stop wiggling around in your ecstasy.

"Ji-Jiro-" you moan out his name, begging, "S-stop, stop, stop."

But you can't tell if you want him to, and he doesn't. Overstimulation washes over you, your words are nonesense, your moans are desperate, and your body shakes under his hold, your first orgasm has yet to end and yet another falls over you.

Then he stops at once. Removing his fingers with a last flutter, and wipes them over your thigh.

"You're okay?" he checks, and when you nod, he flips the two of you around so that he is laying down and you are sitting on the edge of his thighs, right before his length, "If you do it like this it'll make it easier for it to fit." he says, tapping your shoulders for reassurance.

"I want to do it," You tell him, "I want you."

So you move your shaken knees to be on either side of him, and take his length in your hand, sliding it against your folds again to coat his tip with slick, he does not move, instead, he lets you take your time.

You raise your hips as high as they go, and position his tip against your enterance, sliding it in.

"You-You're so big, Jiro." you say.

"You're trying to suck me in," he says, "Your body wants this so bad."

Truly, your walls clench around his tip, trying to help you as you do your best to maneuver your hips around to take him all the way in. You moan when he bottoms out.

"S-so full," you mewl, rotating your hips. You feel so full, as if there's not enough space for him to even move, there's a slight buldge in your stomach, which you nearly faint at the sight of.

Jiro's reaction to everything is a simple, "Oh." , his eyes go wide with lust, but he gives you a second.

"Forgive me." he says when that second becomes too long.

And before you know it he has grabbed both sides of your torso and began drilling into you as if you were a fleshlight.

He moves you up and down his length, fast, faster, and even faster.

You moan out his name, scream it almost, his cock pulls all the way out and then slams into your soft-spot, again and again and again, but he doesn't seem to be thinking of your pleasure right now, no matter how great it is and how good it feels to have him fuck into you so damn fast, he is blind to everything beyond his cock and the way your walls clench around it. You're so warm, so tight, and he can't help but use you like this.

He's quiet, completely, groaning faintly, but not letting out a single sound. His eyes are trained on the part where your bodies meet, and his hands dig into your sides roughly. He looks so hot like this, unbothered, chasing his own pleasure and using you exactly as you wanted him to. Picking you up and putting you down, over and over again until you cum around him, and again not stopping even when you do.

You're so overstimulated, and yet it feels so good. All parts of your brain that know how to formulate thoughts into sentences have long left you, and all you can do is moan pathetically and beg him for something you can't even name. "Please, please, fuck- Jiro, please."

He begins swearing, quietly, under his breath, and your head falls to the side, deflated; you cry. It feels so good, too much. You're too full. He's too big. And then he bucks his hips into you, bottoming out again and releasing deep into you, he finally moans -- it's a quiet, deep rumble of a whimper, and you bend forward as you cum again, everything is leaking out of you as you cry out a "'s full, so full-"

Your thighs shake, your breath hitches, your face is wet with tears, and he detaches you from him and allows you to fall over his chest - held so gently all of a sudden that the whiplash makes you sigh peacefully.

You lay like that for a bit, still unable to speak fully, and he smooths his hands over your back. He quietly mutters that he wishes he had more stamina, but you don't think you could have taken any more. You play with his hair quietly as he holds you close against his bare chest. He's comfortable.

"Sex feels way better than I imagined." Jiro says suddenly, "I really liked it, I'd wanna do it with you again."

You blink when you realize what he is implying with his words, "imagined?" you ask anyways, raising your head slightly to judge his reaction.

Jiro pushes his glasses up his nose, "I've never done this before."

"Huh?" no way, you think, he has to be joking.

But when he doesn't shift at all, you realize he is being serious. So you press a soft, gentle kiss to the top of his head, falling back down into him. "I'd do it again, I liked it too," you say.

"Is it part of my special favourite privileges?" he jokes.

"If that's how you wanna think of it," you joke back, "then yeah."

"Good," he concludes, but then adds "can I make a medical suggestion?"

You quirk your eyebrow, rubbing circles on his chest, "Yeah?"

"You shouldn't attend tomorrow's class, I don't think you'll be able to walk all that well."

You smack his chest with an angry giggle, "Fuck you."

"Again?" he teases.

You both laugh, and then you answer his medical suggestion seriously, "If you stay in with me, I won't go."

"Hm" Jiro hums.

"Alright," you chuckle, stretching out your arm to the bedside table, "I'll turn off the alarm clock."

[bengiyo]

Ben's Big BL Blurb 3: Blue Canvas of Youthful Days Blew It, But I Still Recommend It

I finished Blue Canvas of Youthful Days today, and I don’t like where we left off with this show. Let’s get into that, and then check in on some of the other shows I’m watching.

Blue Canvas of Youthful Days Didn’t Give the Audience Catharsis

I don’t begrudge the show going for a happy ending, given how so many other BLs from their home country end with sudden traumatic turns. However, I don’t feel like we got catharsis from the ending at all. I struggle to full articulate my frustration here, but I think I just really wanted an ending akin to Weekend (2011) or Gameboys 2 (2022).

I think these two were in a position where they were unable to be together now, and I think they should have ended on a separation. When Cairo and Gav had to separate at the end of Gameboys, it was the correct choice. They were still building their lives, and Gav wasn’t doing well on his on. Similarly, Blue Canvas established a scenario whereby Qi Lu did not have the power to stop his father from harming Qin Xiao. Likewise, Qin Xiao couldn’t keep the local gang from beating Qi Lu.

I would have preferred they have the boys confront that they were hiding things from each other, and how they both failed to protect each other from the horrors. I am disappointed that we didn’t get a poignant goodbye from them as they accept that they can’t be together right now. I wouldn’t have minded so much a blurb at the end of the show with the pitch for a season 2 that they didn’t get to film (though @thisonelikesaliens commentary makes even what they wrote dour). We didn’t confront the issue with the dad at all, and we didn’t deal with Qin Xiao losing all he’d worked for.

Genuinely, I would have been okay with them getting a tag at the end of the show with them seeing each other on the street again and sharing a meaningful look. However, we never saw them face the music of their double noble idiocy, and that sucks. It especially sucks because we had Let Free The Curse of Taekwondo this year, and so we saw the consequences of this. We could have had these two railing against the world and promising to see each other again. The tag at the end of the reuse of the fantasy sequence feels tacked on and unearned. That kinda sucks more.

Final Verdict: 8, Recommended With Reservations. I really liked most of this show, and I think they wrote some phenomenal characters until the finale here. Like @lurkingshan I ended up not pleased with this ending. I am disappointed in the lack of resolution about the withholding, and I think they needed to face the separation and goodbye. However, I really liked the cast, and I respect the team that worked so hard to get this to us.

On to the rest of the show, presented in no particular order…starting with the worst. I’ll put in parentheses what episode number I’m on as of this post.

Haunted Hearts is Boring (5/7)

Magic, mah friend! Your show is boring. I do not know why these boys won’t kiss, and at this point I feel like I don’t care anymore. They’re introducing yet another ghost next week and I just am so disinvested. I try so hard every time to support Oxin Films and Regal Entertainment, but they make it so fucking hard. Holy shit. There’s only so far the boys being cute can carry a thin concept like this.

City of Stars is Better Than I Expected (2/12)

I am catching up on this show. The acting isn’t great, but I’m really enjoying a lot of what’s happening here. I will report back when I finish.

See Your Love is Fun But Kinda Weird (7/13)

The visuals are great in this show, and the leads are filling in the aesthetic gap left behind by Jimmy and Tommy in a way that really works for me. There’s been way too many pratfalls in the last two episodes. We are at 1.5 pratfalls per episode at this point. The side couple is absolutely ridiculous. I’m having fun.

Caged Again is Becoming a Favorite (4/10)

Junior is the best protagonist of the year. I’m obsessed with this penguin boy. I love the way this show uses its supernatural elements to drive its storytelling forward, even if I think the plot got a little silly in episode 4. The friend group dynamics are so fun, and I haven’t enjoyed a group of Thai boys this much since Knock Knock, Boys! (no surprise, two of them are in this show, too).

Your Sky is a Weekly Delight (3/12)

The 2gether rewrite show is great, and I will be reading no commentary to the contrary. These boys are so great, and they are one of the best couples of the year. This show is doing fake dating in a way that’s just so excellent, because it’s real dating! The boys are genuinely trying to get know each other so they can pretend to be a better fake couple. This is so close to being excellent meta commentary about dating in the digital age, and how so much of dating for the current generation is about how others perceive the validity of your relationship. It’s actually so fun to watch a show where the characters are doing all the things you’re supposed to do when you’re trying to build something with someone, but one of them doesn’t fully understand what they’ve gotten into. This show is great, and I love it.

Love in the Air: Koi no Yokan is so Slick (5/10)

If there’s one thing a Japanese drama is going to get right it’s trauma! This show delivered on Kai’s horrors in a way that was so visceral that I needed to pause and catch a breath. I remain obsessed with the casting of Nagatsuma Reo as Kai, because he’s taller than Suzuki Asahi sometimes. I really love that they didn’t give us the BL height difference trope, and I like that they didn’t style Kai in a way to make him look more feminine. There’s a egalitarian physical balance between Fuma and Kai that I find extremely refreshing, considering the massive class, wealth, and suffering gap between the two characters. It’s no surprise that we’ve had a dearth of gifs of their sex scene, considering it doesn’t play to the kind of asymmetric aesthetics that folks seem enjoy in their pairings.

As always, the Rei and Kai friendship remains one of the best parts of this story, and I like the way this version of Sky talks to this version of Rain about the queer stuff. He feels like he’s being careful with his friend, and not just ghosting him on important conversations about his friend’s sexual awakening (one of my major gripes with the original Thai adaptation).

Our Youth is Taking Over My Brain (4/11)

I have not moved on from the “Infect me” line, and I am still obsessed with the plausible deniability of the “no homo” that Hirukawa relies upon as he continues to pursue Minase. Now that Minase has reached his breaking point, I’m so looking forward to seeing where we go next. We’re due for a major separation, and I’m ready for a Japanese BL to not fuck up a second chance romance attempt this time. Perhaps adapting Korean work could the solution?

Spare Me Your Mercy is a Welcome Return to the Sammon Feeling I Enjoy (1/10)

I just really love when Sammon shows feel like the mystery matters more than the romance, and this feels like it’s in the correct space. I loved the initial setup, and the potential for there to be multiple murderers. I really hope that they start killing younger people in this show, because they said there were only 40 palliative care patients, and we downed three of them in the first episode. I’m so happy to see JJ again, and Tor looks great. I am looking forward to the weekly watch and theorizing with this show. Most importantly, I’m looking forward to the complex meditation on euthanasia, which this story feels like it’s taking seriously.

Love is Like a Poison Finally has Given Us a BL Battle Couple Again (11/12)

We haven’t had a BL battle couple in what feels like forever. I love that this show continues to reward us for believing in Haruto and Shiba. Haruto’s dad is the absolute worst, and I really want him to lose. I love Shiba, and I love that the show continues to give him some of the visual tropes of a legal drama (like the pan up near the end). I’m in love with this show, and it’s going to be one of my favorites of the year, I’m sure.

Fragrance You Inherit Hurts Me Because Everyone is Doing The Right Thing (4/8)

This show is actually so painful sometimes, because no one is doing anything wrong. Everyone is being as emotionally honest as they can be with everyone they speak to about all of the things that are going on. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with Sakura choosing to let go of her lingering crush on Mone now that they’re both moms and their kids are dating. Besides, we presume that Mone is still married! The conversation with On-chan makes me think that Mone misunderstood the relationship Sakura had with him in college (My man is ace but not aro! We love to see it).

I just really love that everyone is trying to do right by everyone around them, and I think all of the things that remain unspoken in this show have been withheld for completely valid reasons. There are no villains in this story, and that makes it even harder to watch really kind people treat each other politely in every scene. I’m just feeling a quiet scream in me the entire time I watch a good son by a thoughtful gift for his loving mother with the help of his supportive and lovely girlfriend, as he prepares a surprise from the old friend who clearly still cares about her friend and the unrequited/unexpressed feelings between them. This show is incredible. Go watch it right now. Thank you again to @isaksbestpillow.

Conclusion

That’s more shows than I’ve been watching in a while. It’s nice to have some Thai shows back in my rotation that I’m actually enjoying. I really want the Chinese to now fuck up their endings, but it seems like 2024 will not be that year. I’ll try to check in with the end of Love is Like a Poison when the Netflix release schedule completes so folks can binge it then. In the mean time, let me know what you’re enjoying, and what else I should consider picking up.