#therefore a bit melancholic

[haeryna]

i would give up heaven if i had to ↪ gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru ✶.ೃ࿔*.

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summary: sugar melts saccharide sweet on his tongue, and yet the taste in his mouth is so very bitter. the look in suguru's eyes tells him more than any words could. they'd messed up; badly.

tw: angst but melancholic? mentions of illness, mentions of abandonment, reader has a healthy relationship with their parents, author uses switches between "gojo/geto" and "satoru/suguru" to denote emotions. food as a metaphor for love. not proofread. author is extremely tired

notes: title taken from enhyphen's "sweet venom (english version)." a shorter chapter to kind of fill in the gaps. banner from @/cafekitsune

It's been a week since Gojo and Geto showed up at your doorstep and ever since then, you've been filled with a pervasive sense of anxiety. After the whole six hours they spent pleading outside your door (you shudder just thinking about it), they had been uncharacteristically silent. It had gotten to the point where you felt almost a bit insane, peeking your head out the door to check outside if anyone was waiting for you, before you left for work.

It didn't matter if it had been five years, or five days. You knew them better than you'd even known yourself. The freckle on Suguru's collarbone. The barely noticeable scar on Satoru's arm. How Suguru preferred tea, black, and always expensive, while Satoru's guilty pleasure was instant coffee with ungodly amounts of syrups and sugars added to it. You knew them, and therefore you knew that the silence was suspicious. Even as children, whenever you'd get into fights, they would be even clingier than usual, as if they were desperate to reaffirm that you were still there.

So why was it so quiet?

The scream of the tea kettle startles you out of your thoughts and you flinch, hastily moving to remove it from the stove. Why should you care? The audacity they'd had, coming to your doorstep on a whim, before claiming they had no choice. Your thoughts are more bitter than the medicine you mix into your parents' tea. Satoru had been undoubtably hysterical once his parents had found out. You couldn't blame him for that. But Suguru had been the one to call all the shots, buying two plane tickets instead of three.

What if they couldn't afford a third one?

You shake your head, as if you could physically shake the thought. It doesn't matter now, you think viciously, as you stack the cups on a tray. Five years was a long time to go without seeing someone for. Fame and wealth changed people, and you were no stranger to the heavy influence they both exerted upon the music industry. Besides, it's not like your address had changed since they'd left. They could've found you whenever they wanted to.

"You never left?"

The cups rattle dangerously as you carry them to your parents' room. Your mother is sitting up in bed, staring longingly out the window. Your father must be outside, soaking up the last few rays of sunshine before the sun started to set. Gently, you set the tray down on the nightstand. "I have your medicine, Mom."

Your mother smiles, but there's a fragile kind of sadness to it. "When were you going to tell us?"

Heavy resignation falls over you as you sigh, shoulders slumping. "I didn't want to worry you and Dad while you were away at the hospital. It wasn't that big of a deal-"

Your mother cuts you off, eyes firm but gentle. "Dear, please. I saw how happy you were when all three of you were together, and how devastated you were when they left. I just..." She hesitates before continuing. "I don't want you to live your life with regrets. Especially because of your father and I. You deserve to be happy too."

"I am happy," you protest fiercely, but she shakes her head. "You had such lofty dreams. And now, your father and I are the ones holding you back. Life is too short to have regrets like yours at such a young age."

"It just hurt so badly," you whisper, as you take a seat at the end of the bed. Your mother reaches over to intertwine her fingers with yours.

"I know, dear. But which is greater; the love for the things they did do, or the pain for all the things they didn't?"

Your mother's words ring through your ears as you blearily stare into your coffee cup. While the insurance helped, there were still bills to pay, and food to put on the table. You'd stayed up all night finishing work for your remote office job, before taking the short bus ride to the cafe you worked at during the day. The world spins briefly. You would kill for a good night's sleep.

The door chimes and grimacing, you down the rest of your coffee, before pasting a cheery smile onto your face.

"Welcome, how may I help..."

Sator- Gojo stares at you from the other end of the counter. Even with the cheap medical mask he's wearing, the blue eyes and white hair are enough to have your coworkers whispering behind you.

"...you," you finish lamely, immediately looking down at cash register. Why was he here? Especially in the town over? More importantly, why hadn't he gone back to Asia yet? Cursing, you study the bills lined up neatly in the till. Gojo says your name, softly, and the whispers behind you intensify.

"That's me!" you chirp, forcing yourself to point at your nametag. The tips were nice here, and you couldn't afford to find a new job. The pitying stares from everyone back in your hometown was already suffocating enough; gaining the attention from Gojo's rabid fangirls would probably push you over the edge. "Is there anything in particular that you like? Our customers really love the caramel crunch latte."

There's a tone to his voice that you can't place when he finally speaks. "Yeah, I'll take one of those. Extra sweet. Do you happen to have any tea here?"

The words slip out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. "Unfortunately, we only have one drink that features black tea."

Fuck.

You can feel Gojo's gaze, searing into your face as you stubbornly continue to stare at the counter. "Sure, I'll take one of those."

Numbly, you recite the total to him. As he hands you his credit card, you can see your hand shake as you reach out to grab it. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You should've forgotten everything about them when they left.

But you couldn't. You never could.

You hand his card back, but a firm hand on your wrist forces the air out of your lungs. Eyes wide, you peer up at Gojo in shock. His eyes are filled with an intensity that you've never seen before. "How much do I have to tip you in order for you to be the one to make our drinks?"

His grip is firm but not bruising, even as you try to tug your hand back. "I can assure you, our baristas-"

"I don't care," he interrupts. "I want you to do it. You're the only one who can do it." The final part of his statement is so soft that you barely catch it. "It's only ever been you."

You have the horrible feeling that the two of you are no longer talking about extra sweet lattes and London Fogs. The whispers are getting so loud now that you yank your hand back and give him a strained smile. "I suppose I can." At this point, you'll do anything to stop talking with him.

As you busy yourself around the cafe, you hate how easy it is to make the two drinks. Extra caramel; Satoru always loved when his coffee was practically infused with it. You grab the filtered water, running it through a filter several more times. Suguru always insisted tea tasted better the more filtered the water was. You heat the water as you crush up small caramel candies. Satoru enjoyed when his drinks had a little something he could chew on. The tea was steeped for five minutes, exactly. You added lavender and vanilla syrup. When Suguru had made you try a London Fog for the first time in ninth grade, you'd teased him for the "oddly pretentious taste." A splash of milk. An extra large heaping of whipped cream.

Wiping your hands on your apron, you can feel the pain in your heart form the salt of your tears. "Lizzie," you call out. "Can you deliver this to the customer? I'm going on my ten minute." Not waiting for a response, you dash into the bathroom, barely slamming the door behind you as you let the first of your tears fall.

"Toru! Toru!"

"What?" he snaps. Undeterred, you rush up to him, bright pink lunchbox clutched in one hand. "Sugu said you forgot your lunch at home, but it's okay! We pooled our allowance together, so Sugu's in line for the cafeteria right now"

A rush of warmth fills his chest. "You shouldn't have," he protests, but you wave it away. "Mama always says that food is meant to be shared, especially with people you love! And it wouldn't feel right eating without you."

The school onigiri had never tasted good, but that day, Satoru had savored every bite.

Satoru stares at the teenager who'd called his name, wringing her apron nervously, before taking the offered cups. "Thank you." Where had you gone?

"Can I get your autograph?" she blurts out, and Satoru winces. His cover had been completely blown. Suguru's not going to be pleased, he thinks wryly. Yet as he dutifully signs his name on the provided paper, his mind wanders to you. Your hands had been shaking. Were you cold? Tired? Or was it his fault? Briefly, he considers sticking around, before quickly dismissing that idea. You clearly wanted to avoid being associated with him, and although the thought makes his stomach twist, he understands it as much as he hates it.

The walk back to the hotel is short. Satoru's mind is a mess. The bags under your eyes rivalled Shoko's. Were you taking care of yourself? You seemed thinner, too. The sick feeling inside him only grows, festering into something ugly. He dutifully ignores it (like he has been the past five years) and takes a sip of the latte you made, freezing.

Every time all four of you had gone over to your house after school, you'd always insisted on making snacks for the three of them. The coffee tastes like sunny afternoons, and bright laughter, of your voice teasing Satoru for the sheer amount of sugar you'd have to put in his drinks. Caramel seeps into his system, and unbidden, he thinks of your eyes, watching him with a hint of apprehension and exhaustion.

When had it gone so wrong?

Suguru is lounging on the couch as he enters. "What took you so long?" Suguru grumbles, reaching for the other cup. It takes Satoru a moment to respond.

"She was working at the cafe."

"Is that so?" Suguru murmurs, taking a sip of his own drink. Immediately, he tenses, eyes stunned. "Did she-"

"Yeah."

"It tastes kind of like-"

"I know."

The two lapse into silence. You'd had so much love to give that it had practically overflowed. Food was just one aspect of it. Some days, you'd even give up parts of your lunch, insisting that Satoru or Suguru take a bite. He thinks of the way you'd hold him, the way you'd leave him encouraging notes in his locker, how you'd save up allowance to buy small things that reminded you of them. How you'd keep extra hair ties on your wrist for Suguru, and how you'd always keep a plastic water bottle in your bag for Shoko. How many times had they taken it for granted, taken you for granted?

"She looked so exhausted, Sugu. She's got these real dark bags under her eyes, like she hadn't slept in a while. Her hands were shaking. Her eyes were so dull, and so lifeless. I..." Satoru closes his eyes. "I think I would give up anything for her. Music, fame, money. I forgot what it was like, being with her. I felt alive, even though she could barely even look at me."

"I think the worst part is that she really thought we wanted to leave her behind," Suguru says, miserably. "It's all my fault, I was in such a hurry to get us out of there that I didn't say goodbye at all."

"You're not the only one to blame." Satoru's voice is sharp. "We both knew where she lived. We could've called her house phone, saved her number to our new phones from her parents."

"Will she ever forgive us?"

The way they'd heard you wailing from behind the door had torn their heart in two. They never wanted to hear you make those noises again, especially with the agonizing knowledge that it had been their fault.

"I don't know," Satoru says, truthfully. "But I can't even think about returning to music until she knows just how much we really love her."

[supernovafics]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 5.6k words

warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption, mentions of weed, “the beatles” slander (sorry?), just a lil bit of angst

summary: in which you force you and steve to have a housewarming party

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Fall 1985

“Oh no, you’re playing The Beatles at full volume... On a scale of one to ten, how worried should I be for you right now?” 

Hearing Steve’s voice right then put a timestamp on how long you’d been in your current position— lying in the dark on the couch in the living room of your shared apartment, an oversized hoodie, which just so happened to be Steve’s, covering your body; even the hood was pulled over your head because you wanted to feel completely cocooned. 

He finished his shift at Family Video at seven and the drive usually took no more than twenty minutes, and you’d gotten home from your last class around five. That meant you’d been sulking for over two hours. A part of you felt a bit disappointed in yourself. 

Not enough to stop sulking and get up from the couch, though. 

Steve flicked on the light, which made you groan and pull on the strings of the hoodie so that your eyes were covered too, and then he walked over to where the record player sat atop a low shelf that was full of books, magazines, and random trinkets including a pink piggy bank that contained stray arcade tokens rather than actual money. He turned off the record player, putting a stop to the Abbey Road vinyl that you had been playing on repeat for hours. You absolutely detested The Beatles so whenever you were in a melancholic mood, it felt only right to play their music.

“Our neighbors probably hate us now,” Steve said as he joined you on the couch, moving your legs for a moment so that he could sit down and then placing them over his lap. “If we don’t get the cookie basket from Miss Johnson for Christmas, I fully blame you.” 

He expected that to get a laugh or at least a smile out of you. The mention of the sweet old woman a few doors down who had given you two a welcome basket full of freshly baked muffins when you moved in and then promised to bring you the cookies that she always made and gave to people in the building during the holidays. 

You didn’t do either of those things though. Your mouth felt too stuck in a straight line to even think about smiling. Therefore, you instead disregarded everything Steve had said since he’d entered the apartment and mumbled, “Why are guys such idiots?” 

He placed a hand over his heart as if he’d just been wounded. “Ouch.”

You pulled the hood off your head and then propped yourself up by your elbows to finally look at him. “Obviously, you’re the exception.” You then thought about your words for a brief moment. “Well, sometimes.”

“Double ouch,” He said. “But yes, guys are idiots. Which one are you talking about, in particular? Charlie?” 

You sighed and looked away. “Sadly.” 

“He’s lasted longer than I expected,” Steve told you. He fully thought that the crush you had on this guy from your early morning Statistics class wouldn’t stem past a few weeks.

“At this point, I wish I didn’t like him anymore,” You responded and then looked at Steve again, a small amused smile gracing your lips as you thought of something. “Any hot people come into Family Video lately?” 

Steve simply laughed and shook his head at you.

It was almost too easy for you to develop a crush on someone. So much so that many of them you wouldn’t even mention to Steve or your other friends because of how fast they’d come and go. 

Most of the time, the inevitable abrupt ending of the crushes would leave you feeling something adjacent to heartbreak because most of the guys you’d ended up liking were, in fact, idiots, or you’d feel disappointment because your feelings never lived up to how they were at the beginning of the crush. But there was always still something about the idea of liking someone that was surprisingly fun to you. You wouldn’t necessarily call yourself a hopeless romantic, but it sometimes felt as if you were exactly that.

You finally sat up from the couch and moved close to Steve. “Okay, spare me the supportive best friend ‘we’ve known each other since we were ten and I only want the best for you’ spiel for a few moments and just answer a quick question for me, okay?” 

Although he was completely confused and would’ve killed for more context, Steve nodded at your current antics. “Okay.” 

“If we had just finished a really hard test, and you were worried about how you did on it, and I did this,” You grabbed his hand, linking it with yours and giving him the sweetest smile that was typically only reserved for when you were hardcore flirting with someone. “While saying ‘I’m sure you did great,’ you would understand that I have a massive crush on you, right?”

He glanced down at your intertwined hands for a brief moment before ultimately nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I would.”

“Exactly,” You said as you dropped Steve’s hand and then slumped back against the couch. “So Charlie pulling away— no smile back or anything— and simply saying, ‘Thanks. You probably did good too,’ in response to that means either he can’t read my stupidly obvious flirting cues, or he’s not into me. And, honestly, I’m almost certain it’s the second one.” Suddenly you were hit with a fresh wave of sadness and you pulled the hood over your head once again. “Please put back on The Beatles and let me wallow in peace for the rest of the night. I promise I’ll be better by the morning.” 

“I’d rather hear Harold running on his squeaky wheel all night than The Beatles on repeat,” He said and you actually perked up at the mention of the pet you two had gotten only a few months ago, barely a week after you’d fully moved into the apartment, the brown and white furry creature formally known as “Harold the Hamster.” 

Currently, he was sleeping only a few feet away in his cage that sat on the coffee table. Somehow he managed to be completely unbothered by the music you’d been loudly playing. 

“Okay, how about this,” Steve started. “Let’s order a pizza from that place close by. I’ll even suffer and let you put olives on it.”

You pushed the hood off your head again so that you could look at your best friend, only slightly intrigued by what he was saying. “Keep talking…”

“And then we’ll watch The Breakfast Club because you love it and you immediately rented it out from Family Video when we got it in,” He continued and you perked up even more at the mention of one of your favorite movies. “Which, by the way, is a copy that is weeks overdue and has probably racked up an insane amount of late fees at this point.”

You smiled at him. “Good thing I know someone who works there. And he would never let me pay any late fees.”

“Wow, he sounds like a great guy.”

You shrugged as you looked away from Steve. “Meh, he’s alright.” 

He immediately poked your side, causing you to laugh loudly. “I’m gonna make you pay all of the late fees now.”

“That’s very evil,” You said with a shake of your head, but you were still laughing because you knew that he wasn’t being serious. 

Steve ordered the pizza as you put the Breakfast Club tape in and then you both settled on the couch again. You had probably watched the movie five times since you rented it, but somehow you hadn’t grown tired of it yet. Instead, it managed to effectively take your mind off of Charlie and the entire situation with him, at least for the time being. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Steve may have been the one who worked at Family Video, but you knew that place so well it was almost as if you worked there too. His almost never-changing schedule was practically seared into your brain, and you knew the exact times the place was always busy and the moments when it was pretty much dead aside from a handful of random customers.   

Somehow Fridays at noon were one of the store’s emptiest times. 

Steve was standing behind the counter sorting through movies on a cart when you walked in. 

“Hello,” You smiled at him. “I come bearing one not-at-all overdue copy of The Breakfast Club and very fun news.” 

Steve was quick to smile back when he saw you, but it dropped when it seemed as if he remembered something. “Shouldn’t you be in your Psychology class right now?” Just like you knew his schedule like the back of your hand, he knew yours. “Your parents will find a way to blame me if you’ve dropped out of school, y’know.”

“My professor canceled last minute; her sister went into labor. So, don’t worry, you won’t be hearing any sort of lecture from my parents,” You answered as you dug in your bag for the movie. 

Steve grabbed it from your outstretched hand and placed it on the cart before looking back at you. “What's your news?” 

“Okay, so remember when we were ten and on that cruise, and you liked this random girl from New Jersey— Rebecca, I’m pretty sure her name was?” You said. “She was sixteen, completely unattainable, but I still tried to help you talk to her.” 

That cruise was actually when you and Steve met. It was a very weird serendipitous kind of moment where your parents bumped into his at the buffet one of the first few days and found out that they not only lived in Indiana, but in a town that was two over from yours, and they even had a son that was the same age as you. 

You had been somewhere sitting by the pool when this romcom-esque “meet cute” happened, but when your parents found you, they introduced you to Steve. Although at first, it felt like a friendship that was being forced upon you both, it was still nice to have someone other than your parents— actually, someone better than your parents— to hang out with on the ten-day trip. 

You beat him countless times at air hockey at the arcade onboard and the two of you spent most of the nights successfully sneaking into the “club” that was only meant for kids fifteen and up— which was where his crush on Rebecca began and subsequently ended.

“Yes, I remember that, not my finest moment. But, I also don’t blame her, it probably would’ve been weirder if she wanted to flirt back to a ten-year-old,” Steve responded and then furrowed his eyebrows. “Wait, I’m confused, though. Is your news that you found her or something?” 

You immediately shook your head at his question. “No, what I’m gonna say actually has nothing to do with that, but I wanted to remind you of how supportive I was of you during that time, and how supportive you should be of me right now with what I’m about to say.”

“I’ll always support you,” He didn’t hesitate to tell you. “Unless you’re pitching the matching tattoos idea again. And then, in that case, I guess our decade-long friendship will have to end here.” 

“One day I’ll eventually convince you to do it; mark my words. And the tattoo will be one of those stupidly cringey ones where we each get a flower with the other person’s name blooming out of it.” 

Steve did nothing but groan and shake his head at you, which only made you laugh. 

“But, anyway, my actual news is that we’re having a party tonight,” You said and then continued before he could say anything in response just yet. “Kind of like a housewarming party. I realized that we never really had one.” 

“We did have one.”

You shook your head and let out a sound that was a cross between a scoff and a laugh. “Robin and Eddie coming over on our first night and all of us smoking weed on the fire escape and then falling asleep on our mattresses in the living room because we didn’t have any furniture yet did not count as our housewarming party.”

Steve laughed a bit. “It was very fun, though.” 

“It was great,” You agreed with a nod. “But, not an actual party, so that's why we're having one tonight.” 

Steve only looked at you for a moment and you knew that he was trying to read you. He was the only person that you were certain could completely see through you— he could tell what you were feeling even when it was too hard for you to put those muddled thoughts into words, and he could see right through all of the bullshit you’d spew at times. Sometimes it annoyed you, but most times it felt nice to be so completely seen and understood.

It only took a second for things to seemingly click into place for him. “Is all of this about Charlie?” 

“No,” You immediately answered, but you didn’t even sound convincing to yourself. 

Of course, Steve didn’t believe you at all and he didn’t have to verbally say that for you to know, the unspoken words were clear in the deadpan look he gave you. 

“Okay, fine. Yes, it is,” You said and then sighed as you leaned against the counter. “I saw him today and he said that he was planning to go to this party tonight and he wasn’t that excited about it, but it’s better than doing nothing on a Friday. And then for some insane reason, I blurted out that he should come to my party tonight instead. In hindsight, I probably should’ve immediately backtracked when I said that, but I didn’t and instead, this whole “housewarming party” plan was born.”

“Is there any way I can say no to this?” Steve asked and you quickly shook your head. 

“Sorry, but no. Remember what happened on the cruise. Remember how I tried to be helpful with Rebecca,” You told him as you walked around so that you were behind the counter with him. You began sifting through the cart which was full of movies that people had just returned. “And honestly, I just wanna use this party as a last-ditch effort to see if he likes me, and if not then I’ll just make out with someone else at the party to get over him. So, actually, this is a win-win situation no matter what, and this party needs to happen.”

Steve only sighed in response at first, which made you look at him again. He then was quiet for a moment before ultimately nodding and plastering on the brightest and fakest smile you’d probably ever seen from him. “Okay, fine, let’s throw the best two months late housewarming party ever.”

You smiled back at him. “Thank you.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

There were a lot of things Steve wanted to tell you.

One of the main things being how even though he hadn’t met him yet, he knew that Charlie definitely didn’t deserve you basically throwing a whole party for him just for you to see if he liked you back. Also, how actually most of the guys you ended up crushing on didn’t deserve your attention for a second. 

However, he knew that he couldn’t tell you any of that. Not when you’d been there through his ups and downs when it came to dating, and not when you were always supportive; even though a lot of the time it was easy to tell that you weren’t the biggest fan of the girls he went out with.

Early on in your friendship, it was unspokenly decided that bearing through each other’s plethora of shitty relationships just came with the territory of being best friends, and whenever things inevitably went downhill you’d both just be there for each other to pick up the metaphoric pieces.

However, that didn’t mean he couldn’t internally roll his eyes when about an hour into the party he finally did meet Charlie. It was a brief interaction where you introduced them when he entered the apartment and then Steve almost immediately walked away because he knew that you wanted to be alone with Charlie. Well, as “alone” as you two could be with a party that was in full swing around you. 

Your shared apartment quickly became full of at least forty people. It was a mix of people from your classes, the small handful of people from high school that you still sometimes talked to, a bunch of people that Steve knew, and anyone else that Robin and Eddie also wanted to invite. For a party thrown together at the last possible second, you both had to admit that it was a pretty solid turnout.

And also for a party that Steve hadn’t really wanted to have in the first place, he was actually having a good time. He was playing a drinking game version of Uno with Robin and a few others circled around the coffee table; Harold’s cage was placed next to him on the couch for the time being. 

After a second round in a row where Robin won— she was always crazy good at the game— Steve wanted to ask you to join because he knew how much you loved the game, even though you were very bad at it. He was even tipsy enough that he would’ve been fine with Charlie joining in as well.

He looked around, trying to find you, and it was something that should’ve happened in seconds. No matter what, it was always somehow easy to spot each other in any sort of crowded room— how effortless it always was almost felt equivalent to some weird kind of party trick. However, this time, Steve couldn’t find you. 

At first, he thought that that meant that things were going well with Charlie, but when he eventually spotted him standing in the kitchen talking and smiling at a girl who was definitely not you, he had a feeling that things had probably gone the opposite.

“I’m gonna sit out this round,” Steve said to Robin as he got up from the couch. 

The short walk to your bedroom was more difficult than expected because maneuvering through all of the people in the apartment proved to be a battle in itself. He ignored the sign on your door that said “Keep Out!” which you put up right before the party started to discourage people from going into your room and using it as a place to make out or have sex; Steve also had a sign on his door. 

When he walked in, he didn’t see you on your bed or sitting at your desk, or even lying on the floor, so he headed to the door right next to your closet that led to your bathroom.

“Hey, you in there?”

Twenty minutes ago, when you went into your bathroom, you had initially thought that you didn’t want to talk to or see anyone— you wanted to wallow alone and in silence. But, it turned out that hearing Steve’s voice right then didn’t annoy you or make you upset. Instead, it was the exact voice you wanted to hear in that moment— because, of course, Steve never counted as just anyone. 

You were sitting in your empty white tub. The cool porcelain felt nice against the exposed parts of your skin that the dress you were wearing didn’t cover, and you thought that the small confines of your bathroom would be the perfect place to spend the rest of your night; a night that had gone downhill almost too fast.

“Yes,” You mumbled, but it was loud enough for Steve to hear. 

“Can I come in?”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “Yes. But, please don’t turn on the light.”

“Okay.”

You heard the door open then close and then the sound of the shower curtain being pushed to the side caught your attention and you looked up at Steve. 

“What happened?” He asked. Your eyes had long adjusted to the darkness so you could make out his face fairly well and you could see the concerned look on it. 

“I don’t wanna lie and say nothing, but I also don’t really wanna talk about it right now.” 

“That’s okay,” He said with a small nod. “Can I sit?”

You didn’t verbally answer and instead simply pulled your knees up to make room in the tub for him. He got in, pulling his knees up as well, and for a few moments, it was quiet. You could faintly hear the sound of music coming from the living room, but you couldn’t fully make out whatever vinyl Eddie decided to play on the record player.

“Someone gave us a plant,” Steve told you, breaking the silence. “Housewarming gift.”

“Oh, no,” You responded with a small sigh. You and Steve were probably the least “green thumb” people ever. “It’s gonna be dead in a week.”

“She said it’s a low-maintenance one so we’ll see how true that is,” He said as he shrugged. “Now that I’m thinking about it, though, is it weird that we can easily take care of a hamster, but a plant will barely last a week with us?”

You shook your head. “Harold provides us constant love and affection— even when he’s running on his squeaky wheel at three in the morning, it’s somehow still adorable— a plant does not do that. So, which one are we gonna remember to care for?”

“Very, very true.” 

“At least one person gave us a gift, though,” You said. “Now that I’m remembering that we called this a housewarming party, I’m actually kinda upset that we didn’t get any more presents. Where’s our fancy plates and cookware, or even a nice throw blanket?”

You were only slightly joking with your statement, you would’ve actually loved getting a blanket.

Steve laughed a bit. “If that’s what you wanted then we should’ve invited our moms and their friends.”

“Fuck, we really should’ve done that when we moved in. Such a missed opportunity.”

“I fully think that if we did do that our apartment would look eerily similar to Miss Johnson’s,” Steve said and you could imagine it completely. Frilly white curtains in the living room instead of the black ones that were currently up that blocked out the sun perfectly, and flowery pillows on the gray couch instead of the sage green ones that you found on sale a few weeks ago.

You inwardly shuddered at the thought. “Okay, yes, that’s probably true, but at least we would be using nice plates and not the Mickey Mouse ones we got from that thrift shop.”

Steve jokingly gasped, offended. “I love those Mickey plates, actually.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. Just for a moment, it was nice to completely forget about what happened not even an hour ago and what led you to essentially hide away in your bathroom in the first place. 

Things got quiet again and it was the kind of silence that you liked; the kind that made you feel completely comfortable with spending the rest of the night avoiding everything and staying right there in your tub with Steve, and you knew that he would’ve been okay with that too. Even though your bodies would’ve probably started aching after just thirty minutes of being in this position, and he was taller so it would be worse for him, he wouldn’t have complained. 

You focused on the muffled sound of the music playing in the living room. This time you managed to make out the familiar beat of the song; Somebody to Love by Queen. You let out a sigh because that song playing right then somehow felt way too on the nose. 

Steve reached over and lightly poked your knee. “You okay?”

You were so close to pushing the question away again, avoiding the topic and bringing up something else completely— maybe saying that you actually loved those damn Mickey Mouse plates too— but you actually didn’t feel like brushing the topic away anymore. 

“He doesn’t like me,” You abruptly said, voice quiet. “I was tired of trying to read between lines and shit, so I just asked him, and he said no.”

You noticed the sad look cross Steve’s face, which only made a fresh wave of embarrassment and sadness wash over you, but you kept going before he could say anything just yet. “And then to make that whole moment even more embarrassing for me, after he said no he pointed at this girl— I don’t know her name, I think Robin invited her— and asked if I knew if she was single or not.”

Steve’s response of “What the fuck,” was immediate and it was really nice hearing how angry he was on your behalf and it made you smile a bit.

“This past hour has been extremely humbling for me. And I know I said I’d find someone to make out with if things didn’t work out with Charlie, but I’m not even in the mood to do that,” You told him as you leaned back against the cool tub and closed your eyes. “And you wanna know what the worst part of all of this is?”

“What?” “I’m not even drunk right now, so I’ll sadly remember all of this tomorrow.”

You weren’t entirely sure what you expected Steve to say in response to that, but you fully did not expect him to laugh. You opened your eyes and lightly kicked his leg. “Wow, thank you for laughing at my pain.”

“I’m sorry. I am a little drunk right now, so you saying that you’re not is kind of funny because it feels like the roles are reversed,” He said and you slightly hated how right he was. At any party you went to, he was usually the sober-ish one helping you out whenever you drank too much. “Robin and I were playing the Uno drinking game with some people.”

“What? I can’t believe I missed that.”

“We can go play it now. You’d honestly probably win for once since you’re the only one of us who isn’t drunk.”

“Ha ha,” You said with a roll of your eyes as you reached forward so that you could playfully hit him. “I know I’m the worst at that game, but it doesn’t make it any less fun.”

“Okay, come on, let’s go play,” Steve said before standing up, and then reaching his hands out toward you so that he could help you up.

He was trying to cheer you up, you could clearly see that, and you almost took him up on his suggestion. But, the thought of leaving your bathroom or even the comfort of the tub didn’t sit well with you. Mainly since you were unsure if Charlie was still out there and you didn’t want to see him or what he was doing because you knew you’d only feel embarrassed all over again. Yes, it was your apartment and you could’ve easily kicked him out if he was still there, but it felt so much easier to simply stay right where you were. 

You looked up at Steve and shook your head. “I don’t really wanna play, actually.”

Steve sat back down with you. “Okay, I haven’t seen you this upset over a guy in a long time. What is it about Charlie? Why is he so special?”

It only took a second for an answer to come to your mind because it was something that you had actually been thinking about a lot lately but had yet to verbalize it.

“I don’t– I don’t even think it’s really about him specifically. It’s just, I’m so tired of having crushes— of liking a guy and it going absolutely nowhere… I want something real. It’s been what feels like forever, and the last time was with that guy whose name we will never say in this house. And we both know how that horrific relationship ended.” It was rare that you ever talked about that relationship anymore, so hearing you mention it right then— even in just a minor way— actually surprised Steve, it even surprised you a little bit. That relationship was something that went on from the end of your Sophomore year of high school to the middle of Junior year; close to a year of your life that you really wished you could get back because you put up with a lot of shit that you now knew you shouldn’t have.

“I want something good for once, and I thought that maybe I could have that with Charlie. I thought maybe he wasn’t an asshole. But, now I’m back at fucking square one, and it’s just so…” You trailed off with a sigh, not bothering to finish your statement.

“It’ll happen. You’ll find someone. Someone actually good,” Steve told you, his voice was soft and you could hear the sincerity behind his words. 

You let out a sigh and leaned your head back against the wall. “Sometimes I hate talking about relationship stuff with you.” 

“What? Why?” Steve asked. He sounded genuinely confused and for a second you felt bad because there wasn’t supposed to be anything you didn’t like talking about with him— you were best friends.

“Because you can get a date with any girl ever, and you could probably easily be in a committed, serious thing if you wanted to. Meanwhile, I’m getting rejected left and right or falling for complete idiots,” You answered, letting the words fall out and not really thinking about them too much because they just felt way too true. However, once they fully registered in your head, you could feel yourself inwardly cringing. “Ew. Oh, God, I sound pathetic. Please forget I said anything.” 

“It’s not true,” Steve told you with an immediate shake of his head. You almost said “Which part?” but he continued before you could ask that question. “I go on dates, yeah. But, none of them are close to, or are even leading to, something real. Even if I wanted it to, the girls I date don’t want something real with me.”

You considered his words for a second. “Well, in that case, they’re idiots.”

“Charlie’s an idiot too.”

“Cheers to that,” You responded. “God, I wish I was drunk right now.” 

Steve laughed at your words and then opened his mouth to say something. For some reason, you had a feeling that he was going to try and coax you out of the bathroom again, and you were still unsure if you wanted to get up just yet, so you decided to say something before he could. “Do you ever want something serious?”

He was quiet for a second, as if really thinking about your question. “I don’t know… It changes a lot.” You nodded at that before he continued. “Most of the time I think I do, though.”

“Well, with what you just said about the girls you date and with what happened to me tonight, I think you and I are just gonna be alone together forever.”

He let out a small laugh. “I think so too.”

You smiled at him. “And I know that should sound at least a little bit sad, but right now, it honestly doesn’t.”

He smiled back at you. “Yeah, that actually sounds okay.”

Neither of you got the chance to say anything else because the sound of the door opening caught both of your attention. 

“Okay, two things,” You both recognized Robin’s voice before she pulled back the curtain to look down at you two. “One, I really need to pee so I need you both to get out of here, please. And two, Eddie pulled Harold out of his cage and is trying to teach him to do tricks.” 

You groaned as you started standing up. “Oh, God. Not again.” 

Steve followed suit, standing up as well, as he rolled his eyes. “Why is that always his go-to thing to do when he’s high?”

Robin laughed, you easily noticed how tipsy she was. “And what makes it even funnier is that he does this all the time but Harold has not actually learned any “trick” yet.” 

“The day that Eddie somehow teaches him how to “roll over,” I will pass away in shock,” You said as you adjusted your dress, fixing how much it had ridden up while you were sitting in the tub.

You and Steve stepped out of your bathroom to let Robin use it. But, you hesitated to open your bedroom door and let you two step back into the party happening in the rest of the apartment. 

Steve easily noticed your hesitation and his hand found yours, giving it a light reassuring squeeze. “You handle Eddie, and if Charlie is still here, I’ll tell him to leave, okay?” 

You inwardly sighed in relief hearing him say that because, of course, he knew the exact thing you had been worried about.

“Thanks.” There was so much more said in the simple one-word— thank you for reading my mind, thank you for always being able to do so, thank you for being the best goddamn person in my life. 

Steve nodded and gave your hand another squeeze, hearing all of those underlying words and then some. “I have been waiting all night to do this, actually, so thank you. And we’re playing the Uno drinking game after.”

You smiled at that and gave him a quick nod. “Okay.”

You then opened your door and stepped out, giving Steve’s hand a squeeze of your own before pulling away as you started making your way toward Eddie, who was sitting on the couch with Harold in his lap. You pretended as if you were completely unaffected when you briefly noticed Charlie standing in your kitchen and talking to the same girl he had pointed out to you earlier. 

“Edward Munson put Harold back in his cage right now.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(also requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

[yaseraphinee]

astro observations 2 - appearance and vibes : virgo rising focus

hiii ! I am finally back !! This post will be the 2/3 of my appearance and vibes series. The next part will be focusing on 1 rising sign : leo risings.

(/!\ the leo risings one will be completely different from the first 2 posts of the series as I will not describe their appearance or vibes but I will focus on something else... you guys will see what I mean when it will be posted (which might be in a while because i will be in vacations for 2 weeks and probably won't have easy access to internet.)

Today, the focus will be on virgo risings.

(REMINDER : I am NOT a professional astrologer. Everything I say are my personal opinions and not facts.)

In my experience - the ones I have met did not have that “bella hadid clean girl aesthetic look” that people tend to describe online.

Like for the Aries rising, I have identified 2 types of Virgo risings that I will present in this post. (unlike the one about aries risings, those two types can be applied to both men and women, and not just men)

Type 1 :

a lot of them lean to the chubbier side, overweight, or just "fleshy", plump lips, big round doe eyes

this type is mostly found in POC Virgo risings from what i’ve seen

Looks like a teddy bear, inviting, looks huggable. They do look "clean" like a lot of them have clear faces, bright skin. Like Cancer rising, there is an emphasis on the skin texture, which is usually soft and silky. They seem to have really dewy skin.

They kind of look like a hamster mixed with a frog.

There is something prominent about their cheeks area connected to their lips. Their nostrils tend to also be a prominent part of their face, like at first glance you see it.

They tend to be slightly taller than average for the boys.

The girls, they just appear “bigger”, like they take more space ? either by being taller or just larger (not necessarily fat but just bigger)

Actually looks really reliable, mom friend of the group vibes, the nice and helpful neighbor vibes, smiles a lot.

They are generally mistaken to be older than their actual age. I’ve seen a lot of times they like to be the “responsible” friend, a really “i told you so” type of friend.

examples :

Johnny from NCT

Michael B Jordan

Childish gambino

Tarot wit’ tay - Victasia Parker

Ice Spice

I suspect PinkPantheress to be a virgo rising sign too (as far as I know, we do not know her time of birth)

Body :

Type 2 :

I have mostly found this type of Virgo rising in white people

-> Underweight or just really skinny, really small in height or just smaller for girls, appears younger than their real age (similar to gemini rising) like if they’re in their early 20’s people will assume they are like 15 and they will still be asked to show their id to buy alcohol or go to the club.

Because of that, people will tend to infantilize them a lot

-> Guys with this type of Virgo rising tend be taller than average, they look really "long" if that makes sense lmaoo

If the type 1s look like hamsters and frogs, the type 2s look like mice

Looks frail, innocent, lost, stressed and shy

Looks afraid and timid, looks distracted, melancholic, almost sad girl/sad boy face (this type is the one that might be mostly mistaken for pisces risings)

-> As for the skin, like I said for the virgo rising type one, it can look soft and bright HOWEVER in a lot of cases from what i’ve seen a lot of them tend to suffer from eczema, psoriasis or any other type of skin problems (the type ones also have those skin problems but it's not as visible). Their skin can therefore be really sensitive and easily irritable which can cause breakouts. Acne can also be a problem for them. Their skin is usually dry too. A lot of redness and visible irritation on the skin.

-> Tend to be somewhat insecure in the way they act, they carry themselves. Carry themeselves a bit awkwardly (but it's cute tho)

examples : 

Emma Watson

Timothee Chalamet

Kurt Cobain

Bill Kaulitz

[schemelin]

something about Fusionsprunt that i often think about, is this contrast between human conscience and artificial inteligence, in which one of them is far more 'genuine' than the other, therefore valid. in the original context, Hunter is a human man whose brain was tranferred into the skull cavity of a robotic body, while B2 is an android manufactured to undergo the human experience in an attempt to answer the question 'how far can technology go, until you're unable to discern a man from a robot'.

when i think about these two characters living their everyday lives, turns out both are selfish, reckless, mean and stubborn, and that is comforting to me. both are making mistakes and being embarassing and not realizing it until later.

that's why, i don't like the thought that Hunter, a 'genuine' conscience, taught anything about living to B2, that he acted as some kind of mentor or guide. idk if he was ever asked to try he'd wait 5 minutes and ago fuck it i have no fucking clue. not to mention he wasn't there when she was created. he did acknowledge her existence, but he never doubted her capacity to feel or experience sorrow and frustration — though he did, unfortunately, took advantage of her programming to hide the truth for all those years the war against Bortom city took place.

on the other side, B2 isn't necessarily clueless or 'numb in an endearing way'. it can be difficult for her to understand complex emotions that are not hers, much like it is for us when someone explains a situation that we are often times unfamiliar with. B2 is not the only, but one of the examples the abstract idea that objects 'feel' when they're given emotions — not always in a literal sense.

new ideas create legs and run around. have you ever looked at the front of a car and thought 'is it smiling or frowning?'. some houses look so lonely and melancholic whenever you drive past them. what about when it rains and the sky looks sad (or relieved, depends on how you view it)? things are alive, and you care enough to acknowledge them. they become individuals with their own emotions. but then, there's never a way to tell what someone's thinking. you can't look at a person and, uh, read their thoughts (that's invasive). not even the people who worked on B2's program were capable of judging which lines of code are functioning.

sometimes we create things, and they will come to life, and these living things we created will also create other living things, and so on. it's not so far from what we think it makes us human. to sum it up, concepts have mingled (and that's not a bad thing, in this case).

in the end, there's truly no way to discern machine from flesh. Hunter and B2 are both lost and found, numb (due to trauma lol) and vigorous, selfish and altruistic, a little bit of everything simultaneosly. they're also the society they live in, the people they met, and they're also each other.

[strawurberries]

Hello Berry! I just wanted to slide a request your way cause I'm not gonna lie the fanfic you wrote with vash where the reader has stretchmarks almost had me in tears cause I'm so self-conscious about mine and it just made me so happy to read it.

So, I was wondering if I could have a fanfic with that same premise with nai? 🥺

I want all the plant boys!

🍰Anon (if it's okay to be called that)

Stretch Marks (Knives Version)

Summary: Knives find himself enamored with a little human quirk he was previously in the dark about.

Authors Note: Hello!! I'm so glad my writing was able to help you! That's really all I've wanted from my writing, to have people read it and feel better about themselves and/or just enjoy it in any way! I hope you enjoy this one just as much as my Vash one! (Also, you're totally welcome to be the 🍰 Anon) And, once again, here's your tag @blackkiwi :) hope you all love it !

Warnings: Mild nudity, sexual themes, self-hate

His fascination with the human boggled everyone, even his great mind was submerged deep in confusion; so much, in fact, that at first he was completely convinced they were an independent like him. There was no possible way a human could garner his attention (and later on, his affection) so, therefore, the only logical solution to this little puzzle was that she was, in fact, not human. Every moment—well, every moment he wasn’t brooding over the melancholic mood he had decided to live within—was spent thinking about her. She’s strange, kind, and unbearably interesting. It took a month or so for him to finally come to the conclusion—and accept said conclusion—that she was human, nothing more nothing less. Of course that realization was detrimental in so many different ways it would take a hundred years to write about the emotional turmoil and confliction he felt; but, on days like this, he supposed his feelings weren’t all that bad.

“Are you going to drink it?” She sipped on her tea and pointed at the steaming cup (it was ceramic and a painfully awkward blue that clashed with the entirety of her kitchen, but she said she bought it because “it reminded me of you”. Despite his protests, and the want for a different, less ugly cup, she had assigned him to the blue cup; and only the blue cup).

He looked at the murky liquid, “no.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want it.”

“So you just came all this way to stare at me?”

He huffed and took the cup, looking around at the quaint little house he had somehow found himself in. “I was in town. That’s all.” He really shouldn’t be here, more pressing matters nipping at the base of his heels, clawing at his back like starved, abused dogs. The world was begging him to leave, to complete his mission and his faith, but for the first time in a long time, he ignored it.

He took a small sip. 

She smiled, “Oh yeah, right. Just in town, decided to stop by. That’s the story you’re going with?”

“Because it’s the truth.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Nai.”

He didn’t know if he was annoyed she had the audacity to use a nickname, or excited at the prospect that she loved him enough to do so. “You’re the only one who’s ever said such a thing to me.”

“That’s because everyone else is too scared. You know, you’re a little bit intimidating.”

He couldn’t stop the indignant noise that left his throat, “a little?”

She set her cup down and pinched two fingers together, “just a tad.”

“A tad,” he deadpanned. 

“Sorry,” she grinned, “a smidge.”

He took another sip of his drink and ignored her. Bastardly human, he cursed in his head. If it had been anyone else, especially a human, that dared to tease him like that, they’d be dead before they knew it; sliced and diced into neat little squares, perfect enough for a tea party snack. Not that he ever had tea parties, or ate people, but the mental image alone was enough to ward off the majority of pests.

She grabbed her cup and walked over to the sink, rinsing it off before putting it away. She yawned and raised her arms, “it’s only seven o’clock but I feel exhausted.”

Nai looked up at her, swirling the cup in his hands idly. The tea wasn’t the best, nor was it something particularly homey or nostalgic enough to make him drink more, but she had poured her time and heart into creating this so, he supposed, drinking it was the least he could do. He took another sip before his eyes settled on her again, most of her body covered by the cup from his perspective.

She groaned, “I have to go to the market today. I’m running low on. . . well, everything. Or, oh no. It’s too late for that I guess. Tomorrow would be a good enough day to go.”

He finished the drink and set the cup to the set (still mildly upset at how ugly it was—the colors really clashed with the rest of the house. If it was his choice, he would’ve gotten rid of the mug ages ago and replaced it with something that matched his taste, or, at the very least, matched the aesthetic of the house). “You do tend to procrastinate.”

“Oh shut up,” she rolled her shoulders back, her shirt riding up ever so slightly. “Give me your cup.” She beckoned him with a wave of her hand.

He wordlessly handed it to her. 

She washed it, dried it with an old rag, and slid it in the cupboard next to her favorite mug. “Next time you get to do the dishes.”

He opened his mouth to respond, an insult whipping on the tip of his tongue, but he caught the sight of her bare skin. It looked softer than he had imagined, smooth and—he tilted his head, mind momentarily reeling at what he saw. Little markings, he blinked, like me. He didn’t know how or why, but his chest constricted and the only thing he could feel was the intense blazing emotion of curiosity and. . . something he couldn’t identify.

She has markings.

Like me?

Like me.

He stepped forward and grabbed the hem of her shirt, yanking it up to her chest. The fabric gave way easily enough, revealing what had interested him so. Swirls and lines decorated her belly, wrapping into each other like the galaxies he had seen oh so long ago. The only thing he could think of was how absolutely divine it looked. His view though, his beautifully artistic view, was interrupted with a shove and a loud gasp. 

“Wha–what was that?!” she grabbed her shirt and pulled it down, the fabric taunt in her grip, “usually you ask before you go taking people’s shirts off!”

He was focused on her now covered stomach, mind short-circuiting. “Show me again.” The sight was burned into the forefront of his mind, heart giddy with the possibilities. Maybe she was a plant, an independent. Or even, partially so—he’d take that, he’d take anything as long as she wasn’t human. . . would he? Suddenly his excitement turned into a mix of anticipation and anxiety. The thought of rejecting her for being something different from him, it made him sick for a moment. He may be a God, something divinity has blessed, but he was undoubtedly seduced by mortal wiles. Though, and he shoved this thought to the back of his mind, I don’t really mind. 

She shook her head, “no–wait, what am I even showing?”

“Those patterns,” he raised his head up, watching her intently, “I want to see them again.”

“Patterns?” she thought for a moment, before a strike of realization hit her face, “my stretch marks?” Her grip loosened every so slightly, before quickly regaining her previous strength.

“Whatever they are,” he raised his hand before pausing and bringing it back. I ask before I take her shirt off. “They’re like mine.” To drive his point home—and, really, looking back he doesn’t know why he gave her the courtesy of understanding his intentions, or his needs, but in the moment it felt right—he let his markings quickly show on the surface of his skin, a low bleeding blue edging out into the country house. 

She blinked and whispered, a child-like awe on her face. “can–can I touch them?”

She had known he was a plant since the day they met. He, stealing a dependent from a town, and her watching him with mild confusion and amazement. But she hadn’t seen this side of him—the destruction, hate, and blood, yes. But the somber blue and quiet hums of his soul? No. He hadn’t shown anyone that in a long, long time.

“I suppose,” he looked down at her, “as long as I can touch yours.” The deal was fair enough, he tried to argue in his mind, shoving away the anxieties and sickness at the thought of being touched. It’s all in the pursuit of his curiosity.

She puffed out her cheeks, hesitation clear in her eyes, “fine, but you can’t say anything mean about them okay?”

“Why would I be mean?”

“You’re always mean.” 

She reached out and touched his face gently, as if she was afraid he would disappear into the sand dunes that surrounded her home. She traced one line from the right side of his jaw to his nose, before trailing her fingers to his exposed neck. “You’re so pretty,” she mumbled. The skin under her became heated, flushed.

Whether it was a conscious decision or not, he leaned into her touch, the soft feeling of her fingers making his heart stutter. Several markings glowed brighter before he was able to shut them down, pushing his excitement—or, no, he wasn’t excited; he was disgusted that a human was touching him, that’s what it was (oh, what a terrible liar he is). Despite his momentary panic, he let her explore his face and neck, hoping the blue of his markings drowned out the red of his embarrassment. He didn’t have a real reason for why he was letting her do this to him, he should’ve stopped her a while ago, but it felt. . . nice. This was something he had’t experiences in years, a feeling so foreign he had nearly forgotten it. 

She pulled back, not missing the way he subtly leaned forward to feel her for a moment longer. “Why do you even want to see my stretch marks?” she whispered, fingers itching to touch him again. 

“Because they’re like mine,” he matched her tone, towering over her with no malice or hate, but silent admiration. The thought of her—her touch, her looks, her voice, by God, all of her, it entrapped him in a spell of nothing sort of Love. That's what it was, this feeling. Love. He could feel the anxiety in the back of his throat, the crumbling of his beliefs and ideologies, but those were problems for another day, right now? He was busy falling deeper into this sweet little hole he had dug. 

“No they’re not,” she laughed slightly, sadly, “yours are way cooler.”

He tugged at the hem of her shirt, this time asking, “can I?”

She sighed and let her head fall into his chest, “a promise is a promise.”

He resisted the urge to tell her that she needn’t keep her word if it caused her pain, that he would rather she feel happy than obligated. He didn’t though, the well of his curiosity ever growing. “You’re human,” he mumbled, less than gently tugging the shirt off her, “and yet your markings are so similar. . . so beautiful?”

“They’re not markings, well, not in the way you’re thinking of.”

The low light of the setting sun barely reached the windows, slowly plunging them into darkness. Without thinking he grabbed her hips and hoisted her up, momentarily enjoying the sounds of surprise she made as he put her down on the counter. His hands resumed his search, trailing the pads of his fingers across her belly in a loving motion that he had never known he was capable of. “What are they then?”

“Stretch marks.”

He huffed, “explain.”

“They’re like little scars that appear when our skin stretches too fast. I think it can happen when our skin shrinks too? I don’t really know the specifics. I just know they’re annoying and ugly.”

He paused, bringings his hands up to grip her chin, “what?’

She blinked at him owlishly, “what. . .?”

“Are you calling me ugly?”

“Wha–” she let out a laugh, “when did I say that?!”

He ignored the happiness that stabbed his heart when she laughed. “I said our markings are the same, if you say yours are ugly, you are calling mine that as well.”

She thought for a moment, “I guess that makes sense, but you’re forgetting one thing.” She raised a finger and tilted her head, a little grin on her face—the expression did nothing to hide her fear and anxiety.

“What may that be?” he said with a hint of amusement, fingers still holding her jaw.

“You are handsome, I am not. So the markings look different between us. I’m not calling you ugly, don’t worry. You’re actually quite attractive.”

He frowned and leaned forward, forcing her to place her hands behind her on the counter in order not to fall. “You’re right. You’re not handsome.”

She rolled her eyes, “so romantic.”

“You’re stunning,” he savored the squeak of embarrassment that left her mouth, a knowing smirk on his face. I want to hear more, he thought as he trailed down to her stomach, kissing each mark on her belly, “beautiful,” he muttered. “Your loveliness cannot be described.” He reached the band of her pants, hooking a finger around it before he remembered his manners. “Can I?” He looked up at her, grin still present and eyes twinkling with something she couldn’t describe. 

“Y–yeah,” she whispered. 

He didn’t go any further, tilting his head with a waiting expression. 

“What?” she tried to hold his eye contact but it became too intense, and she looked away, chest starting to rise and fall rapidly. What have I gotten myself into?

“Look at me,” he commanded, pleased when she obeyed without a second to spare. He should talk to her like that more often, maybe indulge in her flesh if she listened so deliciously like that. “I heeded your words, didn’t I? You said I have to ask before I do things like this, yes?”

She nodded.

“Say you’re proud then.”

“I’m proud,” she stumbled out, all hints of her teasing nature drowned out by her bewilderment (and pure, unrestrained excitement).

He pulled back, trapping her in between his arms, “that’s boring,” he muttered, “come up with some creative praise. I’ve been so nice to you, haven’t I? Isn’t it only fair?” He whispered in her ear, laughing at the shiver that racked her body. With a hum he trailed back down her body, saving his softer affections for her stomach, her marks.

He reached her pants again in no time, looking at her expectedly.

“You’re beautiful,” she blurted out. 

“Not good enough.”

“Divine,” she uttered. 

“Think, Darling, or else I’m going to stop right here.” He played with the edge of her pants, thumbing the material as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. God, how he loved to play with her.

“Y-you’re,” she tossed her head back and groaned, mind flying as she tried to think of a compliment. After a moment she wrapped her legs around him, making him give her a questioning hum, and grabbed his face. “You’re my God,” she whispered, “mine alone. You’re wonderful and strong, a holy being that I am blessed to have around me.” 

He could’ve sworn he died at that moment—and if he had, he would’ve gone happily.

She buried her face in his neck, practically whining with embarrassment. “I can’t believe you made me say that.”

He wrapped an arm around her, pressing her into the counter, collecting himself before he spoke, “that was good. I knew you’d learn eventually.” With a deep, burning red, he hid his face in her stomach, going back to tracing her stretch marks. Faint blue markings glided up his neck, curling around the flesh of his face—he didn’t bother to stop it this time. With a single motion he helped her rid herself of her pants, letting out a deep sigh when he saw the rest of her markings. 

“You didn’t say you had more.”

“Well,” she finally gained her confidence back, letting out a huff, “you never asked.”

He, with the same awe and amazement as earlier, observed her thighs as if he was a starved man, denied of any mortal pleasures (though, he supposed he had never done anything like this before). “I want to see all of them,” he tugged at her underwear, “they’re too beautiful to hide.” If it was up to him, he'd have her naked in his presence all the time, solely for observing how heavenly she looked.

She grabbed his hand and snapped it away, “you didn’t ask that time.” 

He tilted his head and smiled wickedly, “I guess I didn’t hmm? Where are my manners? Here, can I see all of you? Bare and unobstructed?”

She gripped his hands and turned her head away, “you’re a bastard.”

“That’s not a compliment,” he whispered.

“You’re my bastard.”

He laughed, a sound she cherished deeply, “that doesn’t count.”

[dearweirdme]

how do u guys not see that taehyung is using jk and tkk for attention? he has consistently claimed things that then don’t align w what jk has said/reality. if they were actually together i dont think he would want to be drawing attention to their relationship the way he does. like when he said he recorded his album at jk’s house and jk helped direct it, that was SUCH an exaggeration and he knew it. and ofc jk had to clear up the situation stating that taehyung just randomly called him up one day asking if he could record some guides at his apartment studio and jk only gave him some advice here and there abt how he should sing some lines. taehyung always find some way to mention jungkook and single out their relationship when jk doesn’t do the same. and the whole “to find you” thing…there’s no way that that’s the legitimate and whole truth. taehyung worded in a way that would catch ppls attention when in reality im sure jk would just sing that song a lot in general cuz it was stuck in his head or something, not directly to/for taehyung. bc if they were actually together and jk sang that song FOR him, taehyung would not be out here divulging all that information. he would want to keep that secret bc that is something that would directly give them away. and w the story he posted of him and jk on instagram before enlisting. that was completely on purpose for attention bc why would u not post something for jimin as well who was also enlisting the same day when u know ppl will notice that. he knew we would notice he only posted for jk and that would get attention for being just him and jk. just at least admit that taehyung mentions a lot of stuff abt jungkook on purpose bc he knows ppl like to hear it and it gets him attention while also satisfying the fans/shippers

Hi anon!

Ah, so you see… but it’s just a bit too close for comfort for you and therefore, even though Tae has been described as ‘honest’, ‘innocent’, ‘most down to earth’, etc by members.. you think he has to be lying and faking and scheming about his bond with Jk. All the while Jk (and all members) continue to speak well about Tae, showing their love and support for Tae, keep hanging out with Tae and just continue as though him ‘using’ Jk is okay? You’d rather believe all that than think that maybe Tae and Jk actually do have a special connection? Geezzz, must suck to be you.

Jk is humble, what felt like Jk directing to Tae might’ve felt as too much credit to Jk. Tae is likely to boast about Jk’s capabilities, while Jk is likely to play things like that down. Tae wanted to make him shine, Jk wanted to return some of that shine to where he felt it belonged.

Why would there be any other explanation for Jk singing ‘To find you’? Why is it inconceivable to you (we all know why…. you are either homophobic or a Tae anti.. or both)? Nothing about Tae’s demeanor in that live shows any form of faking. He was melancholic. He wanted/needed to share a piece of himself. You forget that as a part of Tkk it is his right to share pieces more than it is our right to judge. He is the one who actually knows Jk on a level that very little people do (even when you think they aren’t together). So his judgement on whether it’s alright to share something about him and Jk will always trump ours.

I can only imagine the conflicting feelings that come with having to hide a relationship. I imagine the struggle between wanting to share the thing you are proud of and that is most important to you while also wanting/needing to keep it safe and hidden is a hard one. To me that fully explains why at times we see something more real, and why at times it seems as though they keep things from us.

He absolutely posted Jk on purpose! I think you should think on that some more anon!

[cherryria]

Of fears and friendships (Ominis Gaunt x Original Female Character)

The much needed conversation after the “Crucio Accident”. English is not my first language therefore I apologise in advance for any mistakes. Marion sat on a cold floor of the Undercroft, leaning against the wall and trying in vain to stop her tired body from shaking like a falling leaf. It was an awfully long day and surely a strange adventure she would not desire to relive again, as the severe pain from the Cruciatus Curse still lingered in her bruised limbs.

The Hufflepuff could not quite comprehend why she was not spending this much needed alone-time in a safety that the Room of Requirement eagerly provided, yet she once again found herself in a familiarity of the Undercroft. Which, to be honest, did not seem that welcoming now. As if it was forever intertwined in her soul with the image of Sebastian that right now could bring only worries and fear to her mind.

Marion attempted to clear her head of all thoughts, rather concentrating on the warm and tingling sensation of ancient magic flowing through her veins. It seemed to numb the physical pain a little bit but unfortunately could not calm the aching of her heart. It simply could not push away the image of hurt on Sebastian’s face when she declined his help, leaning on a rather worried Ominis instead. It was all too much for her little Hufflepuff heart, too suffocating and incomprehensible, and frightening.

As the tears started to cloud her gaze, Marion suddenly heard the footsteps coming down the stairs and reluctantly turned her head to the old staircase. To her utter surprise the girl witnessed Ominis carefully making his way in her direction.

“I can tell that you are here”, he delicately stated, stopping not far from her tired figure, “Your breathing is way too loud”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Ominis”, the Hufflepuff tried to make her voice sound as cheerful as possible, “I did not expect you to visit the Undercroft tonight”, she paused, unsure what to say next, “If you want to be alone, I can go…”

“Actually, I was hoping to find you, that is why I came here after convincing Sebastian to finally have some sleep”, the softness in Gaunt’s voice made Marion smile a bit, “I wanted to make sure that you were in an acceptable condition”.

“I am fine, thank you, Ominis”, she could not tell a greater lie, moreover, the Hufflepuff perfectly understood that the boy would not believe her, but she simply could not find the words to explain every thought and emotion that was running through her mind.

“I may be blind, Marion, but I am not in any way, as you may suspect, stupid”, he chuckled.

The girl took a moment to examine her friend’s tired features, his melancholic gaze, and then she remembered…

“I am truly sorry about your aunt”, she whispered softly, fighting the urge to either hold out her hand to a grief-stricken Ominis or start sobbing from the realization of how awful and lost he might have felt right now.

“I simply cannot believe my ears”, Gaunt sounded almost indifferent, although his voice could not fool her, “You have been struck with a Crucio and somehow still possess the ability to trouble yourself with my feelings”, he smiled sorrowfully, “Oh, what a true Hufflepuff you are!”

“Do not worry about me, Ominis, I can handle my pain”, Marion made a weak attempt to stand, but her body immediately betrayed her, forcing to once more press her back against the wall and painfully exhale.

Her friend stayed silent for a moment, contemplating something, then still without a word sat down beside her, leaving the Undercroft silent for a few moments.

“In fact, I wanted to thank you for protecting me”, the Slytherin boy said, making Marion glance at him with utter confusion, “I understand that it was you who convinced Sebastian not to pressure me any further about casting the Cruciatus Curse”

Marion’s lips formed a shy smile.

“He was just acting irrational and, I dare to say, quite ignorant about the situation. I am sure in his heart he understands how unpleasant that topic must have been for you”

“I am afraid Sebastian thinks that casting Crucio is of the same moral difficulty as opening the locked doors with Alohomora”, pensively admitted Ominis, “His mind is now clouded with finding the way to Anne’s cure, even if it means leaving everything else in ruins”.

“I have heard the rumors of you Slytherins being very determined in achieving your goals”, Marion looked at her friend with a sorrowful expression she was glad he could not see. She knew how deeply the boy despised anyone’s attempts to pity him.

“As you could have witnessed today, my aunt was not an exception to this rule…”

“Ominis…”, she whispered in horror, but he brushed her off.

“I realized a long time ago that something had happened to her”, the boy admitted with a slight tremble in his voice, “Aunt Noctua would not have left me otherwise, as she indeed understood how painful and lonely it was to be different in our family”, it seemed that he was trying to collect his emotions, “To be honest, I have always wondered how her son can be so contrasting to her, so cruelly and maniacally endorsing the family traditions…”

“She has a son?”, Marion repeated weakly, “He might miss her a lot”

“Oh, Marvolo is more than happy with spending time with his father and the pure-blood maniacs I am proud to call my parents”, the venom in Ominis’s voice startled the girl, bringing the desire to soothe her friend’s pain, to make him see he was not alone…

“Ominis, I…”

“Do you think we are going to lose him?”, suddenly asked the Slytherin boy, turning his head to the direction of her quiet voice. He did not have the need to continue his explanation, as Marion immediately understood the root of his worries,  “To be honest, I can barely recognize him lately”

“Sebastian is one of the brightest wizards I have ever met, and I want to believe his mind will not betray him”, it was truly her heart’s desire – to continue believing in Sebastian’s sanity.

“He needs to understand, Marion, that it is Anne’s life, and only she has the right to decide what to do with it”, Ominis sighed and tiredly closed his eyes, “She is my dear friend, I care about her deeply, as she is to me the sister I have never had. Yes, I must admit, Marion, I am very afraid of losing Anne but I realize that we must listen to her desires and not to our troubled minds…”

The Undercroft went silent, the air thickened with sorrow and grief. Marion knew how little Ominis tolerated the unwelcomed touching, and still the Hufflepuff could not stop herself from gently covering his hand with hers.

“You will not lose Sebastian, I promise”, she said, her voice barely a whisper, “We will accompany him on his journey, and we will not let him slip into madness”.

The boy froze, feeling the sudden warmth of Marion’s hand, but did not move away from it. Ominis seemed to have realized the uneasy tone of their conversation, since he awkwardly cleared his throat and turned his silver gaze to her.

“I am so dreadfully sorry you had to listen to my whinings”, he noted, “It looks like this late hour went to my head”

“Well, I must say it is better with you here”, Marion confessed, “I do not feel so strikingly lonely”

“Don’t be a stranger, Hufflepuff”, Ominis chuckled softly and squeezed her hand a little, “I am afraid you will never feel lonely due to the astonishing company of ours”.

[weekend-whip]

Ninjago Fic Rec Week: Day 5

Prompts: Multichaps / Nya Recs! *shorter one today, I'm not feeling too well rn -w-)

Multichap Recs-

Saturniidae: *takes long hard swig* This one's a doozy, fellas. Beautifully melancholic Cole-centric fic detailing the descent of their team reflected in their beloved Ultra Dragon amongst other things, and the stinging realization that what we need isn't always going to be what we want...or in the ways we think. I still think about this fic from time to time and have to take a moment of silence for my heart snksnksnk

Father Always Liked You Best: Another Shiny special, this time with some Garmadon angst and what the view of his gradually splintering off from his brother (And very quickly reminding me what my favorite take on Garmadon is. Spoilers: IT'S THIS. The very last line reminded me of how hard it hit when I first read this aaaaaaa)

Five Times Morro Trusted Wu: AND THE ONE TIME HE DIDN'T. Or, the fic that sits at the very core of my tempered adoration for the ghost kid.

Habits of Home(lessness): Putting this here cuz I'm once again mad I dropped the ball on Jay's day lmao!! In which Jay's "normal" childhood growing up is very abnormal in the face of the rest of his team (and he is THROWN when it comes to trying to figure out why)

Nya Recs-

Ninjago: The Nya Perspective: THE NYA FIC I'VE SEARCHED MY WHOLE LIFE FOR (aka maybe twoish weeks? Three? This has been a long drag of a month, man) ANYWAY it's the series retold from Nya's point of view and it is MMMMMM peak Nya. Peak Nya. Very highly reccomended.

selkie: short, sweet, and a little bit haunting, a reflective Nya Post-Seabound (......with a solution to the 'being the sea' problem I also thought really should've happened, or at least considered, but give the flow of this fic...perhaps, maybe not)

Please Just Don't Break an Ankle: Nya, Skylor, and Pixal getting the chance to girl-out and just be friends if not sisters!!!!! But, there is a lot of fun dynamics with everyone, though big sister Skylor has me by the throat!!! And Nya getting the chance to be just a little bit vulnerable :3

this grueling cycle: mmmmmmBACK at it again with the pre-pilots fics!! Nya and Kai in the ~before~ times, following the siblings' clashing opinions on the disappearance of their parents. Very descriptive and ripe with characterization!

Blue-Black: Nya and, ironically, the impressions that the color green has on her overtime. She also has synesthesia <3

déjà-vu: Y'all know I'm always a sucker for stories where Nya and Lloyd has out their feelings with each other, and this is definitely towards the top of the list! The angst burns so good <3

Skating on Thin Ice (Can Get You Into Hotwater): A multichapter braincellshipping fic in a hockey/ice skating au that I haven't actually finished, but a) I loved what I read of it so far, b) the character dynamics are sooooo much fun, even beyond the ship, c) the concept is AMAZING, and d) it's by an author who's made this list already, THEREFORE I trust this story with my life. It needs a little extra love <3

Nya and the Song of Sirens: Poetic Nya stream of consciousness thingy during some Crystalized events, I don't talk about this one a lot because writing it stressed me out and I didn't think it was anywhere close to my best snksnksnk, but upon rereading again for myself, I'm like "whoa, maybe I really had something here". I should be nicer to myself, and it is very potently Nya, thus *plunks down rec*

[goblinontour]

ok this might just be me but in my mind mr turner is a huge fan of english romantic poetry. like the era of poets that emerged in reaction to the industrial revolution so (in particular) keats, byron, shelley and maybe blake. i really see him as loving keats and particularly the great odes of 1819. my fav is ode on melancholy (sooooo mr turner coded) which is a call to the reader to embrace deep melancholic thoughts. in the poem keats esentially argues that sadness is a fundamental part of human nature due to the transience of mankind (everything beautiful comes to an end etc) and therefore we should simply embrace these feelings since it is a symbol of our humanity. maybe i’m looking into it too deep but i just see that as an incredibly powerful sentiment which kinda resonates w mr turner’s whole vibe.

i’ve done my best to give a summary of the poem but give it a read (and maybe even some analysis?) and let me know your thoughts.

- 📸

(p.s. sorry if this is too much - the english lit student in me got carried away 🥰)

i just read that one you mentioned. i think it’s beautiful but i’m gonna be honest on a first read i barely understood anything before i read a bit more from the summary and what you read. i think i’ve mentioned it before, i study english too but more so the grammatical aspects. i did have to deal with literature too (though not english) and it was so tough to me😭 i envy you for liking it cause i had to just memorise the characteristics of each period to be able to analyse texts (i think it’s romanticism here right? hopefully i’m not embarrassing myself) anyway sorry for just spitting nonsense, after understanding it better i totally see him being into that, though he may not be the best at following what the poem implies.

i liked this bit:

She dwells with Beauty—Beauty that must die;

And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips

Bidding adieu

just sounds pretty idk😭

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 23/09/2023

From The Shad​-​slows (Plains of Des​-​passing​-​tú)

Season 4 Episode 2 Featured on: SiIvaGunner's Highest Quality Rips: Volume for Wii U

Ripped by UUN4

Exactly one week ago, I covered what I believe to be one of the most legendary rips in the channel's life - Plains of Des-passing-to. In that post, I tried to explain just what makes Despacito such a fun source for SiIvaGunner to use - that its overexposure paired with its genuine good qualities as a catchy tune makes it something every SiIva viewer will immediately recognize and begrudgingly vibe to. Paired with the infectiously fun instrumentation and overall style of Shovel Knight, it resulted in a banger many still return to frequently.

Two years later, though, UUN4 would return to that very same concept for a rip and make what's effectively its direct sequel. In the same way that From the Shadows sought to reimagine the original Strike the Earth! into a more sombre, melancholic piece, From The Shad​-​slows (Plains of Des​-​passing​-​tú) takes a similar approach to the original Despacito arrangement. Its slower, moodier, almost atmospheric in a way, despite still using Famitracker and a lot of similar instruments as its base and despite still, yknow, being Despacito of all songs. Yet it follows through on its concept from start to finish and is, just like the original From the Shadows, in my opinion a much more interesting listen - even though the original in this case was already one of the most fun listens on SiIva. Every note placed is perfect, every cue from the original rerendition is translated in such a purely authentic way - its all so good and so natural, its as if it was produced right alongside the original rip back in Season 3.

My affection may also be in due part to how recently I discovered this arrangement: the original track sits at close to 200 thousand views, wheras this sits at barely over 25 thousand. Its not a rip I see shared around nearly enough given its quality, and I'm hoping this shoutout will do it at least a little bit of justice.

Quality of From The Shad​-​slows (Plains of Des​-​passing​-​tú) aside, it plays into a part of SiIvaGunner that I really do love - that these kinds of becks and calls even exist within the channel to begin with. It wasn't as if Plains of Des-passing-to was a momentous occasion in the channel's life that would therefor obviously be paid tribute to in the future - UUN4 simply realized on his own how fun it would be to expand upon a joke he told amidst hundreds of others during Season 3. The deeper you go into SiIvaGunner, and indeed the deeper you'll go on this blog, the more fascinating examples like this you'll find on the channel - rips paying tribute to one another despite releasing several years apart, and despite sometimes not even being as popular as Plains of Des-passing-to was.

Nothing on SiIvaGunner is ever forgotten. Not even if its a hit Latin pop song from 2017.

[allzyfont]

okay I don’t typically like to involve myself in political posting so I’m going to stay as unbiased as possible but I honestly feel like the controversy around Sound of Freedom feels… fabricated? Like, its not warranted. Stay with me for a minute.

after a heavy dose of skepticism I finally decided to sit down and watch it as objectively as I’m capable. As a movie. Not a documentary or an autobiography, but as a medium for art, story, and communication. (And by their nature movies are such condensed stories that it should be relatively easy to understand that you can’t fit the entire personhood of the real Tim Ballard into a two-hour film.)

this was one of the best crafted stories I’ve seen in a while. The screenplay was tight. Dialogue didn’t overstay its welcome. The imagery is distinct and sharp. The color grading is warm and melancholic. It’s got a touch of that “yellow Mexico filter” but it’s not too distracting. I had to get up to schedule a doctor’s appointment about halfway through Act III so the momentum was stalled a bit, and the climax therefore didn’t hit as hard, but still provided necessary catharsis. Jim-Caveziel-as-Tim-Ballard quotes scripture once, and it’s to the effect of cussing out a MAP over a dinner table before calling an arrest.

Overall, it’s not a bad movie.

Now the matter of the controversy attached to this movie in real life is a different issue. I’m sure everyone has heard it; the QAnon controversy and hyper right conspiracy…

It’s likely that most of us haven’t met the real Tim Ballard, his team, or the people involved in the production of this movie. It’s been said a million times that the film doesn’t portray the human trafficking issue accurately when its marketing claims that it does. I will insert the caveat that most “based on” stories are exaggerated for time and clarity, but other than that, criticize the actions of the people involved in the conception Sound of Freedom who go against its message.

This film says that human trafficking is real, that it’s prevalent, and that it’s wrong. Recognize Sound of Freedom’s shortfalls while also supporting what it aims to stand for. The two aren’t mutually exclusive. They shouldn’t be.

[juliatulia]

I didn't pay attention to the Housman bit on Autobiography, so I would love to hear your thoughts on that :)

Sorry for the late reply but here it is.

The * followed by parenthesis are my thoughts, the rest is directly from Morrisseys Autobiography.

Excerpt from Autobiography:

and, wrongly, unnecessarily, this child weeps, full of the foolish

embarrassment that his father has clearly marked out. New air is discovered

in the words of A. E. Housman (1859–1936), scholar-poet, vulnerable and

complex. On the day of his twelfth birthday his mother dropped dead,

sealing a private future of suffering for Housman, who was said to be a

complete mystery even to those who knew him. *(Whom are we talking about??) With no interest in

applause or public recognition, Housman published three volumes of

poetry, each one of great successful caress, each a world in itself, forcing

Housman into the highest literary ranks. A stern custodian of art and life, he

shunned the world and he lived a solitary existence of monastic pain,

unconnected to others. *(Again, whom?) The unresolved heart worked against him in life, but

it connected him to the world of poetry, where he allowed (in)complete

strangers under his skin. *(One know others by how one knows oneself) In younger years he had suffered from the

unrequited love of Moses Jackson, the pain of which was so severe that it

doomed Housman for the rest of time. *(Swap the names and it could be Steven Patrick talking about himself) All of his work would be governed

by this loss, as if life could only ever offer one chance of happiness (and

perhaps, for every shade and persuasion, it does?):

*(So, Morrissey introduces Housman as someone who has unhappiness thrust upon him (but he could also have been a moody melancholic from birth, who knows?). Life delt him bad cards, but used the unhappiness to create art that others found comforting. He clearly identifies with him. And the last part of the paragraph….. Words fail me. )

When the bells justle in the tower

The hollow night amid,

Then on my tongue the taste is sour

Of all I ever did

Housman suffered throughout his life, and therefore (and not surprisingly)

his life became an unyielding attempt not to cooperate. The black horizon

never shifted, and his emotional lot never mellowed.

*(Moses Jackson was very aware of Housmans feelings for him. If I remeber correctly when Moses married his wife, they didnt tell Alfred Edward until after the event (They also left the country). Jackson knew it would crush Housman. )

He would not stay for me; and who can wonder?

He would not stay for me to stand and gaze.

I shook his hand and tore my heart in sunder

and went with half my life about my ways.

At his Wildean lowest, Oscar’s personal sadness had never slumped to such

leaden fatigue; Housman suffered and accepted, death always close in his

mind’s eye – but not regrettably so.

I did not lose my heart in summer’s even,

When roses to the moonrise burst apart:

When plumes were under heel and lead was flying,

In blood and smoke and flame I lost my heart.

I lost it to a soldier and a foeman,

A chap that did not kill me, but he tried;

That took the sabre straight and took it striking

And laughed and kissed his hand to me and died.

The published poetry makes the personal torture just barely acceptable. The

pain done to Housman allowed him to rise above the mediocre and to find

the words that most of us need help in order to say. The price paid by

Housman was a life alone; the righteous rhymer enduring each year unloved

and unable to love:

Shake hands, we shall never be friends, all’s over:

I only vex you the more I try.

All’s wrong that ever I’ve done and said,

And nought to help it in this dull head:

Shake hands, here’s luck, goodbye.

But if you come to a road where danger

Or guilt or shame’s to share,

Be good to the lad that loves you true

And the soul that was born to die for you

And whistle and I’ll be there.

*(The poem is so true to the Morrissey folio. A strong friendship/connection/relationship is no longer what it once was and distance is imminent between the object and the subject. But should anything happen, "danger or guilt or shame to share" you know I will be there for you. )

It’s easy for me to imagine Housman sitting in a favorite chair by a barely

flickering gas fire, the brain grinding long and hard, wanting to explain

things in his own way, monumental loneliness on top of him, but with no

one to tell. The written word is an attempt at completeness when there is no

one impatiently awaiting you in a dimly lit bedroom – awaiting your tales

of the day, as the healing hands of someone who knew turn to you and touch

you, and you lose yourself so completely in another that you are

momentarily delivered from yourself. Whispering across the pillow comes a

kind voice that might tell you how to get out of certain difficulties, from

someone who might mercifully detach you from your complications. When

there is no matching of lives, and we live on a strict diet of the self, the

most intimate bond can be with the words that we write:

*(Here author and subject almost merge into one. Drawing the line where subject and author meets is almost impossible. I become you and you become me. When there is no one to whom one can bestow all ones affection on, the page becomes the active listener. )

Oh often have I washed and dressed

And what’s to show for all my pain?

Let me lie abed and rest:

Ten thousand times I’ve done my best

And all’s to do again.

I ask myself if there is an irresponsible aspect in relaying thoughts of pain

as inspiration, and I wonder whether Housman actually infected the

sensitives further, and pulled them back into additional darkness. Surely it

is true that everything in the imagination seems worse than it actually is –

especially when one is alone and horizontal (in bed, as in the coffin).

Housman was always alone – thinking himself to death, with no matronly

wife to signal to the watching world that Alfred Edward was now quite

alright – for isn’t this at least partly the aim of scoring a partner: to trumpet

the mental all-clear to a world where how things seem is far more important

than how things are? Now snugly in eternity, Housman still occupies my

mind. His best moments were in Art, and not in the cut and thrust of human

relationships. Yet he said more about human relationships than those who

managed to feast on them. You see, you can’t have it both ways.

*(We have to wonder why Morrissey included this in the book at all. When most authors writes their autobiography, they chronologically write about what happened to them, who they saw, or write about details about their life in descriptive detail (which in my opinion is quite dull and very little engaging as a reader). But Morrissey deviates from this enormously. He includes pieces of what made him the way he is(!). Why would he include long pieces about Melanie Safka, Buffy Sainte-Marie or W. H. Auden? Not interesting in itself to read about someone some person read a long time ago, but all these pieces gives us hints of who Steven Patrick Morrissey is.

The interesting part about including A. E Housman is how much Morrissey writes about his life, not just the poetry. I think this is the key to understanding the excerpt above. He both admire and recognise how life and art blend together and how they affect each other.

About Housmans later life, Moses Jackson died before him. Jackson suffered from cancer I think and knew he was going to die. Housman later wrote in a letter to a friend where he said: "I could not leave him behind in a world where anything might happen to him". He was a wealthy man from his academic work and became a patron of Jacksons son. He paid for his education when he didn't have to, but probably felt an obligation.

Why do we have such a lengthy part in the book about an unhappy man who lived all his life inlove with a man he fell in love with in his youth???

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ You tell me 🤓🤓

)

[heliianth]

hey zelda nerd tell me about the inconsistencies in aoc i don't know much abt botw and i wanna hear

holy fuck. u have unlocked a pandoras box

ok to preface: i do not hate aoc. i clocked over 100 hours in the original hyrule warriors and i think aoc is better, and the only reason i dont have as much playtime is due to the fact that i am not 11 with infinite free time forever anymore. for a dynasty warrior type game where spamming ur light combo chain is typically a viable option no matter what it is actually decently difficult (at least to me) and the skill trees are engaging. there are no characters that feel like an absolute slog and the campaign is fun, if short. it is a fun game. and there ARE some character interactions that are gold—notably, the ones between sidon and mipha are genuinely heartbreaking, the DLC scene with revali and tulin is the best shit to happen to his character ever, and this version of link and zelda are adorable, despite what im going to talk abt for the next like. hour

the inconsistences that ive noticed are ones that like. u guessed it. have to do with link and zelda. in botw, they're the ones with the most screentime, and therefore have more material to botch compared to the champions who are pretty simple to understand and don't have more than a few establishing scenes outside of the divine beasts. they serve to support the theme as simple anchors for the player to relate each area in the game with the story. in comparison, link and zelda carry the themes of botw on their backs

botw is About a lot of things, but the main About is healing from failure by finding connection and beauty in yourself and the people around you. the story is fundamentally set up on a tragedy—the apocalypse happens, a countless amount of innocent people die, and in hindsight it seems entirely preventable, but it happens anyway. the entire game purposefully and starkly contrasts this backstory with serene, peaceful, grassy landscapes and an anxiety-free method of story delivery. there's melancholic optimism in the fact that even the most world-ending disaster is moved past by trees and wildlife and people. this video is an excellent deconstruction if you want something to listen to for like, an hour. it phrases things better than i ever could (it also dives into what im going to say abt zelda as a character but hang on with me for a little bit). to paraphrase it, botw says "life is tenacious". but it's also kind of hard to grasp this, for an audience, when it's on such a magnitude---most people cannot relate to the calamity ravaging hyrule and forcing it into a state where it takes 100 years to heal as a failure. to actually convey the theme, it needs more personalized representations for the audience to connect with

zelda and link, as characters, show different failures and ways to react to them. before i start i want to say that when i say "failure" referring to them, im talking about what is considered by the people around them as a failure. zelda physically not being able to unlock her magic or link being like, an actual person, is not a failure. social construction and all that. the importance is them believing, perceiving, it to be a failure among themselves. capiche?

im going to talk about link first, because link is the foundation that zelda builds on. ive made posts about it before, but the way links backstory is constructed as a collection of clues that must be strung together by people who are dedicated to it is representative of him as a person, or at least who he used to be. link is a child soldier who draws the master sword at 12-13 years old and finds the weight of being one of two people with the responsibility of killing the prehistoric incarnation of hatred and death unceremoniously dropped on his shoulders. to cope with that, his response is absolute conformity. he shuts down so completely that he doesn't speak, or even emote, to anyone, for fear of not being what hyrule needs from the mythical hero of legend. he decides dehumanizing himself is easier than not living up to that expectation.

zelda is similar but different in some very key ways. she has a direct lineage tracing back to the goddess hylia, all of whose female descendents possess some form of holy sealing magic that vanquishes ganon. she loses her mother at age six and the king thinks it is a brilliant idea to give her one year to mourn before forcing her into trying to unlock her sealing magic via rigorous prayer and devotion. despite her best efforts, she finds she cannot conform, that she genuinely cannot do what people are asking her to. instead, she tries to put herself to use somewhere else, finding passion and connection in the sheikah and their ancient technology, and holds onto a spirit of individuality for 10 years straight.

the way zelda builds on link is in the fact that she has a character arc. eventually, after a while of hating and projecting insecurity onto link, who refuses to communicate back to her, she develops the courage to reach out an olive branch. with that, she finds connection and worth and, yeah, love. link opens up to her a little bit, but cannot bring himself to lower his facade completely. this uhhh fucking kills him. he dies (or, i guess, "falls" but the place they put him in was called the shrine of resurrection. he was dead). and zelda lives because this newfound connection and understanding was the key to unlocking her sealing magic, which saves both her and fort hateno. with link and zelda, pre-calamity, botw says "finding worth, connection, and love (im really trying to dodge amatonormativity please see my attempts . please) within yourself and others is the key to overcoming failure. by denying your own humanity and isolating, you're dooming yourself." zelda uses her connection and love to ward off the calamity for 100 years. basic magic of friendship stuff

link has more development in the fact that hes the personification of the literal land of hyrule itself and the themes come full circle by his death healing him in the same way the land healed after 100 years and only when he regains his connection to zelda, uninhibited by the restrictions he placed on himself pre-calamity, can he go help her blah blah blah thats largely unimportant because that's post-calamity stuff, which is irrelevant to aoc.

and god we JUST arrived at aoc im so sorry but i needed to explain all that to succinctly explain why i'm bothered by the way it writes these two. ok. you see all that i just splurged out? with help from all my brainworms and 500 hours of playtime? aoc does none of this.

aoc was kind of doomed from the beginning. botw being post-post-apocalypse is so important to its themes and narrative that everyone and their mom expected aoc to be the darkest zelda game ever released. it was marketed as a botw prequel--- the fleshed out story of the calamity, which, as i mentioned, ends with everyone including link fucking dying, and that was what people wanted out of it. i personally had suspicions back in, what, 2021? that it wasnt going to end on a note like that but everyone was largely hopeful that it was going to remain faithful and let us experience the story that was largely told through flashbacks in botw. this is not the case and it was so obviously not the case that i feel silly for believing otherwise, because its hyrule warriors, and more importantly, its a video game. they're not going to end a video game, especially not one in a genre which has a gameplay loop that relies on post-campaign content and grinding, on an unwinnable final boss. would it have been metal as fuck? yes. but from an actual game content standpoint, where they want to reward the player for more playtime? not gonna happen.

so already were off to a bad start. but an everyone lives no one dies au isn't the worst case scenario, i suppose. but. um.

aoc not only straight up does not include the important parts of link's backstory that i mentioned (that is, the fact that he is deathly anxious and traumatized and that this is the reason why he's quiet), but it also doesn't really... have a pronounced "zelda finds connection" arc. at least, it's not notable enough for me to remember it. sure, she grows closer to link, and her love of him is still what unlocks her magic, but she never despises him like she started out doing in botw. there's little to no projection in a way that emphasizes her independence and self-respect that's in conflict with her self-loathing. there's no interpersonal conflict to link's conformity that makes them thematic foils. this all makes her revelation in fort hateno where link originally dies much less potent, discounting the fact that originally the result of her revelation gives her the strength to hold back hatred incarnate for 100 years. but that doesn't happen either because as we've established this is an everyone lives nobody dies au and link's character arc goes unfulfilled as well because, well, everybody lives.

for all the time travel stuff is weird and the egg is a retcon and king rhoam's death is set up as a sacrifice and then later rug pulled for the sake of another playable character (and also sympathy-baiting) its what ive mentioned above that grinds my gears the most because my favorite thing about botw is its themes and the way it handles them in relation to link, zelda, and the open world gameplay. and age of calamity doesnt tick any of those boxes. so while there are more gaping plot holes or nitpicks i could make, i don't really think theyre worthwhile in comparison to the issues ive described. thats why i cant love it the way i love botw and am loving totk right now, even though its technically part of the trilogy. its fun to think about in isolation, and it doesnt ruin everything the way a movie like httyd3 does, but it's also one massive "they would not fucking say that" which bothers me occasionally

woo. there u go. hopefully u had fun hearing

[olkagretcher]

IN ANOTHER LIFETIME, WE’LL BE TOGETHER (tlok fic senraq-centric)

“I will find you in every lifetime, until we finally stay.”

or: yuekka, but in another life. mostly senraq with sprinkles of sukka and zutara in a tlok setting.

(based on that one headcanon where sukka’s daughter is senna and tonraq is canonically related to yue therefore yuekka reunited in another life lol. enjoy!)

I. MASTER SENNA OF THE SOUTHERN WATER TRIBE

SENNA was reserved and gentle. Being one of Master Katara's best students in the Southern Water Tribe did not alleviate her of being one of the most renowned and established water bender of the Southern Water Tribe.

Right after her cousin Kya and just about the age of ten and six - tenderhearted as her Aunt Katara, fearless as her mother Suki, and quick-witted and rational as her father Sokka - Senna of the Southern Water Tribe was a

II. PRINCE TONRAQ OF THE NORTHERN WATER TRIBE

TONRAQ was casted away at a young age. His other brother, Unaalaq, was a prodigy compared to him.

He was always behind his older brother. Always in second place. It had been a shame to have always been compared.

III. WHERE THE NORTH MEETS THE SOUTH

"Have I... seen you somewhere?" Senna had asked Tonraq. Her voice. Soft. Warm. A bit melancholic that Tonraq had sworn he had heard of this voice somewhere in his dreams or in an era of another timeline. She is well-mannered and proper, and for Tonraq, she may as well pass as a royal in the Northern Water Tribe.

Father would be pleased with her, mayhaps. The way she calculated her exact movements when she waterbends to the techniques she hones her skills on as she practiced with Katara — it awed Tonraq, a fellow waterbender.

Their styles in waterbending differed, but he could see a hint of the Northern style incorporated into how she bends since her mentor is Katara.

Perchance Senna had seen wrong - and it was the fact that the young prince in front of her had the same look in his eye when she had seen him the first time.

TONRAQ had been at awe with that painting that hung inside the Northern Royal Palace.

His grandfather, the current chief of the Northern Water Tribe, Chief Tan, had stared up in awe.

"That is your great-grand aunt. The late Princess Yue whose now the Moon Spirit."

He stared at her. Seriously? "She's the moon?"

"Princess Yue did not have kids, so she had sacrificed her life to save the world. She had been betrothed to the now general Hahn of the Northern Water Tribe military, but it had never pushed through due to Yue's death."

IV. FATEFUL MEET AT THE SOUTHPOLE

“I’m fine, Uncle Zuko,” Senna laughs,

“Now, you are my only niece, okay?”

[i-am-a-scholar-of-magic]

The Titan’s Humors

As I’ve mentioned many times before, one of my favorite aspects of “The Owl House” is the setting: a rich tapestry of the macabre, toned down for ages six to eleven. Everything from the buildings covered in bones and eyes to the Titan’s skull on the horizon reminds the viewers of the semi-organic, pseudo-hellish setting, and it’s awesome to see the showmakers’ imaginations on display. 

One piece of lore was offered in a throwaway line at the beginning of “Them’s The Breaks, Kid,” while teenaged Eda and Lilith are quizzing each other on the way to school: the idea of the “Titan’s Five Humors,” earth, blood, bone, bile, and breath. That's an intriguing concept if you think about it. And as no one seems to have picked much up on this, I thought I’d take a crack at it. 

First off, let’s review what “humors” are in real life, also explained in earlier posts. The “Humorist” theory of medicine developed by the physicians and philosophers of Ancient Greece, and then adopted by the Romans and Medieval Europeans. It postulated that the body is filled with four “humors” or major fluids: blood, phlegm, “black” bile, and “yellow” bile. The balance or imbalance of these humors within the body was thought to cause various ailments before the development of germ theory in the 1850s. Each was also tied to one of the classic four temperaments: sanguine, choleric, melancholic, and phlegmatic. 

This denotes that witches have classified five substances of the Boiling Isles leftover from the Titan whose decomposing body forms them. 

We have quite a bit of lore on Titan’s Blood, compared to the others. It is a rare, violet fluid rich in natural magic. It can be used to create portals to the human realm, and can even do so naturally, and also be used as a potent power source. 

The others are only mentioned in this episode, and therefore mostly my own conjecture. 

Earth seems simple enough. Marriam-Webster defines “earth” as “the solid footing formed of soil : ground.” Considering the flesh of a corpse - even one as vast as the Titan - eventually turns into nutrient-rich soil through decomposition, it is easy to determine that “earth” is the soil of the Boiling Isles upon which witches and demons live and that nurtures its various creepy and dangerous plants. 

Bone is a bit trickier to figure out, but the architecture of the society of the Isles may give us a clue. Many buildings seem to at least partially be made of massive bones and fangs, often in decorative fashions. This may demonstrate that the Titan’s bones are mined as a building material, much like marble or granite in real life. 

Bile has some seriously awesome connotations. It is established early-on that magic in witches and biped demons comes from a sac of magic bile attached to their hearts. This might imply that the Titan had magic bile of his own! Assuming any remains, it would likely be an even more potent source of raw magic than the Titan’s blood! However, bile is never shown or otherwise mentioned on-screen. 

Finally, Breath has some interesting ideas of its own. Considering the Titan has been dead for thousands of years, he clearly hasn’t breathed in some time. It is also worth noting that gasses tend to escape a corpse very early in the decomposition process. However, given the potent magic of the Titan and the Isles, it is possible that the air trapped in the Titan’s lungs when it died was imbued with similar magic as his blood. In my mind, this is analogous to natural gas and also used as a fuel or power source for the inhabitants of the Isles. 

It is worth noting that I have tied parallels to each of these humors with natural resources of our own world, all of which have one thing in common: they are non-renewable. While the Isles are likely not going to disintegrate into the Boiling Sea any time soon, these substances clearly have a limited capacity that cannot be replenished. Titan’s Blood is outright stated to be rare in the modern age. 

It seems the Children of the Isles need to be aware of conservation, too. Who would have thought?

Thanks for reading! More to come …!

[thatdesklamp]

Hi! I saw your post around here where you mentioned Ali Hazelwood, and I've been devouring her stories lately. Since I trust your judgment more than my own (that A level in literature really shows), I was wondering if you could recommend other stories you might have enjoyed? They don't have to be in a STEM setting, nor necessarily romances (although those are very welcome). Thank you so much <3

Hello! Yes of course!!

For books that remind me of ‘One Day’ (and therefore encapsulate the vibe I was going for in this fic). Heavy on themes of intimate relationships between two people, nostalgia, time and growing up.

‘This Time Tomorrow’ by Emma Straub: gorgeous insight into getting older and a push for change, explores the relationship between a father and daughter beautifully

‘Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow’ by Gabrielle Zevin: masterful characters and structure. Two friends work as video game designers. The publisher’s tagline is brilliant: ‘It’s not a romance, but it is about love.’

‘Amy & Isabelle’ by Elizabeth Strout: one of those books I know I’ll appreciate even more when I get older. Mother and daughter relationship: if you resonated by Greta Gerwig’s ‘Ladybird’, you’ll love this one.

‘The Time Traveller’s Wife’ by Audrey Niffenegger: It’s famous for a reason. The most original love story I’ve ever read and with such genius and tender plotting that demands rereading.

‘Normal People’ by Sally Rooney: melancholic and bittersweet (aka it was the ‘One Day’ that I didn’t like quite as much as ‘One Day’ but also guys it’s a good book c’mon let’s be fr here)

Romances I’ve enjoyed (these are probably very popular but there are so many shite ones that I’ll vouch for these):

Ali Hazelwood books. I am so adamant that this woman is an absolute legend and her books only get better. Loved her most recent (‘Love, Theoretically’), it’s too fun.

‘Book Lovers’ by Emily Henry. Emily Henry loml.

‘Love and Other Words’ by Christina Lauren: ICONIC friends-to-lovers

For STEM-y books I enjoyed, I liked:

‘Lessons in Chemistry’ by Bonnie Garmus: the main character is absolutely brilliant and I’m the world’s most devout feminist so of course I devoured this book. (Although constantly calling table salt NaCl did annoy me juuust a little. Yes salt is primarily composed of sodium chloride but it’s not purified so calling it NaCl is just a bit silly)

‘The Code Breaker’ by Walter Isaacson: non-fiction (gasp!) but I find CRISPR so interesting. Biography about Jennifer Doudna, the Nobel Prize winner who essentially transformed the world of genetic engineering.

Miscellaneous books I’ve enjoyed:

‘Tender is the Flesh’ by Agustina Bazterrica: chilling dystopia, excellent narration from perspective character, so disgusting and gory

‘Fingersmith’ by Sarah Waters: not usually a fan of historical fiction but Sarah Waters is the loml, brilliant plotting, crime fiction

‘Vladimir’ by Julia May Jones: devoured it in a day. Dark and sensual, with such a sharply-characterised perspective character.

‘The Charioteer’ by Mary Renault: one of the first books to write an unapologetically positive portrayal of homosexuality. Essential reading for any lgbt+ person who likes reading, imo: stands on the same level as ‘Giovanni’s Room’ or… literally any Sarah Waters novel. I read it for background research on a far-off WW2 fic I want to write but ended up loving it. Really sweet.

Huzzah I hope this is up to scratch <3