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pin-k-ink · 1 month

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glyph // terushima yuuji

tw ⇢ tattoo artist!yuuji, fingering, dirty talk, biting, marking, nipple play, unprotected sex, mild overstimulation, manhandling

wc ⇢ 4.9k

The doorbell chimed with a cheerful tinkle as you stepped into the cozy tattoo parlor. Despite having made this particular pilgrimage several times before, you still felt a ripple of anxious anticipation as you glanced around the warm, dimly lit space.

Behind a vintage wood-and-glass counter stationed just inside the entrance, stood the compact, heavily tattooed owner giving you a welcoming grin and a lazy two-fingered salute.

"Here for another bit of my world-class ink?" Came the familiar raspy tones, clearly modulated to broadcast over the steady thrum of nu-metal currently filling the studio.

You answered his jovial greeting with an easy grin of your own, sidling up to lean casually against the front counter's lacquered surface. "Damn straight. Though if it ends up being subpar work like last time, you're gonna have to give me a freebie make-good," you shot back with a wink.

Terushima scoffed loudly at the playful dig, rolling his eyes dramatically as he made a show of slinging his forearm across the countertop -- putting his own extensive body art brazenly on display in the process. Colorful renderings of traditional Japanese imagery swirled in mesmerizing patterns from wrist to collar, punctuated by crisp black line work and embellished with strategic flashes of vibrantly stylized shading.

"Listen smartass," he drawled without any real heat. "If you want to keep deluding yourself that you didn't bewitch me into making masterpieces grace that gorgeous skin of yours, be my guest. Just don't come crying when your dumbass blows our next appointment making dopey excuses for a rain check."

You laughed, easily settling into the familiar cadences of your long-running, playful banter with the talented tattoo artist. Truth be told, you relished these brief preludes to each session nearly as much as the actual artistry that followed. Terushima's unfiltered charisma and effortless way of putting you at ease was unmatched...not to mention how you always inexplicably found yourself growing flustered under the sheer magnetism of his piercing stare and toothy grins.

Shoving that disconcerting train of thought aside, you arched a single challenging brow. "Listen blade-stud, if I do end up missing another appointment, you'd best rush right over and tattoo THIS masterpiece yourself." You accompanied the provocative statement with a full-body once over that could only be described as a deliberate ogle. "Not that you'd find that to be such an imposition..."

Terushima's eyes predictably followed your shamelessly appraising perusal of his lean, athletic form -- taking in the molten embers that flared to life in his already smoldering gaze. He momentarily dragged his pierced tongue across those full lips in a move so blatant it made your mouth go dry, clearly chewing over some filthy riposte to lob back in your direction.

Anxiety and something dangerously akin to arousal thrummed through you in equal measure as the heavy tension stretched out between you, thick as river mud. A few abortive throat-clearings from the other occupants of the waiting area finally snapped you out of the heated stalemate.

Flushing dull crimson, you backpedaled with a somewhat sheepish grin. "So uh...y'think we can squeeze in that new side-piece today? I've got the design reference and everything pulled up if you're free."

Terushima eyed you with a distinctly predatory gleam lingering in the depths of those tawny irises for another suspended beat. Then, with the flick of a switch, he was oozing pure professionalism once more -- chasing away the thick undercurrents of provocative energy as a friendly grin stretched across his angular features.

"Course we can, no sweat," he agreed easily, straightening away from the counter and nodding towards the interior corridor leading to the private studio spaces. "Right this way, let's get you set up so I can pour all my creative juices into whatever you had in mind."

You opened your mouth to sling back a rejoinder to that obscenely leading statement...but Terushima had already turned on his heel and was sauntering down the hall without a backward glance. All you could do was stand rooted in place, cheeks burning as you took a fortifying breath and moved to follow.

This was going to be one hell of a long session, you could already tell.

By the time Terushima had you arranged on the padded recliner, he had already helped shuttle any lingering tension over the edge into professionalism. He made quick, efficient work of prepping the arm you indicated for the new ink -- asking concise follow-up questions about placement, size, and the design inspirations you were aiming to channel with this latest addition to your body art.

For his part, you found the artist hyper-focused and in the zone once preparations were underway. He handled your limb with the utmost care, yet also an understated reverence that spoke to how seriously he took his craft. The bold slashes of colorful imagery covering his own sun-kissed skin served as a living portfolio of his talent, only whetting your anticipation more acutely as he pulled up the digital rendering and reference designs on a mounted tablet.

"Lookin' to weave in some of those natural scenery elements we discussed last time?" Terushima asked in a low, effortless rasp as he scrutinized the design mock-up with a critical eye. "Maybe incorporate some structural geometry from that hiking trail you're so in love with as the framing borderwork?"

His fingers danced across the digital sketchpad, making minute adjustments and allowances to the linework right before your eyes. The deft movements were hypnotizing -- much like watching an artistic savant at their most inspired and open. You hummed an affirmative, finding yourself momentarily distracted by the glide of those long, calloused digits working their magic to translate your vague musings into visual reality.

"If you think it will all tie together into one cohesive statement, I trust your interpretation completely," you managed at last. Flicking a glance up towards Terushima's face, you found his piercing stare locked intently on the developing design rather than meeting yours. The ambient glow of the screens threw mesmerizing shadows across the sharp planes of his features, beautifully sculpted as if an artisan themselves had chiseled every line to classical proportions.

You swallowed hard against a sudden surge of longing completely at odds with the benign circumstances. Ever since meeting Terushima through a mutual friend's referral and sitting for your very first piece, you had felt these increasingly intrusive flashes of appreciation towards the talented artist -- inexplicable yearnings to run curious fingertips across the bold strokes of color and crisp linework decorating his taut skin. To taste the bright zing of his sunny, artful essence against your feverish mouth in moments of inspired abandon...

Ruthlessly, you shoved such wayward thoughts aside with a mental shake. Now wasn't the time for thirst-addled daydreams about Terushima's no-doubt impressive assets...and skill set. Besides, the idea of ever acting on those burgeoning compulsions was utterly laughable. You were a client, period -- and one he obviously had strictly platonic vibes towards if his easy, unaffected demeanor around you was any indication. Still, you couldn't resist sneaking one last sidelong look at the mesmerizing picture he made while completely immersed in the creative process.

Terushima wore the consummate aura of an artistic genius so effortlessly. From the mussed tumble of pale blonde hair to the way his broad shoulders rolled subtly with each sweeping movement, he exuded a quiet intensity that was utterly arresting to behold up close. You felt your heart stutter as the muscles in his arms and chest flexed in fascinating undulations with the motions of sketching -- unconsciously etching themselves into your frantic memory for later, more indecent contemplations.

"There it is," he breathed at last after several long minutes of intent focus. Rising to his feet with an easy, athletic roll of lean hips, Terushima pivoted the mounted tablet towards your awaiting scrutiny. "Pretty neat way to incorporate those natural elements you were going for while keeping it all grounded with some unified geometric rendering, yeah? Those lines should flow perfectly into the top-piece you already have planned out once we finish inking."

You startled slightly at the proximity of his voice. Jerking your gaze away from where it had been tracing the crisp vee of Terushima's slender hips, you blinked owlishly before hurrying to study the design mock-up anew. He was right, of course -- the linework and shading additions he had incorporated into the base design were seamless. As if the original rendering you had fallen in love with online had been elevated into a whole new artistic expression without losing its core essence.

"Shit...that's perfect!" You exhaled at last, tipping your chin up to meet Terushima's illuminated stare with a look of naked appreciation. "I swear you make this seem easy!"

Entirely without conscious volition, you reached out to squeeze Terushima's forearm in a gesture of gratitude and friendly affection. The fevered thrum of his pulse against your fingertips was startling, a visceral reminder of the living canvas you were complimenting. When he flashed you one of those signature toothy grins, nothing but authentic warmth and satisfaction radiating from his features, you very nearly pulled your hand back with equal haste -- worried its lingering presence might broadcast the wrong sort of impression.

But then the moment passed as swiftly as it arose. With a subtle throat clearing, Terushima gave a slight nod and moved to finish setting up his workstation. He tossed over one lean shoulder as he moved with easy grace to prep his tattoo gun. "Should be a real nice tie-in with that upper flourish you already have going by the time we're done inking today..."

The next stretch of time passed in a sort of serene, creative fugue as the familiar buzzing of the tattoo gun filled the small studio space. Terushima was all intense focus and quiet competence once more as he went to work etching the permanent design into your proffered skin. You found yourself mesmerized watching the ink take shape beneath his deft hands -- an appreciation of art unlike any other as he coaxed your body into becoming the living canvas.

Of course, it was difficult not to grow steadily more attuned to Terushima's nearness as the minutes ticked by in heated silence. The man was all lean, honed muscle and clean, sharp lines where you lay soft and pliable beneath his careful attention. At one point you found your gaze tracing the corded sinew in his biceps as they flexed and released with each pass of the tattoo gun. Following the darkly appealing trail of inked patterns swirling up towards the solid juncture of his shoulders and--

You bit back a tiny groan of frustration, realizing you were once again allowing your thoughts to drift in an extremely inappropriate direction. Squeezing your eyes shut, you concentrated on the rasping buzz of the needle caressing your skin rather than let your heightened awareness of Terushima's body linger any longer.

Except...even that was a mistake.

The suddenly sharpened awareness of every subtle scrape and tingling kiss of sensation across your overly sensitized skin made you acutely conscious of where, exactly, the current canvas was being shaped on your body. Terushima was leaning over your inner arm, bent at an intense angle as he filled in the gracefully arcing lines spanning from wrist to elbow joint.

The position placed his face scant inches from the slight swell of your breast as he worked -- near enough that you could actually feel the lightest whispers of his exhales ghosting across the thin cotton covering your chest. Your nipples tightened despite yourself, shocking sparks of arousal lancing straight to your core at the proximity.

Desperately you tried to think unsexy thoughts. Rotted vegetation, unpaid bills, awkward family gatherings...but nothing could dampen the traitorous flush of heat steadily creeping across your nerve endings. Particularly not when Terushima shifted his weight closer to get better traction, practically looming over your upper torso at this point with one knee braced alongside your hip.

The male fibrous notes of his earthy body wash saturated the static-laced air blanketing you both. You breathed in deep, stunned at how quickly the atmosphere in the small studio had taken on such thick, charged undercurrents despite Terushima's complete immersion in his artistry. Each subtle inhalation brought a dizzying new swirl of his natural, masculine scent lacing through your senses...until you felt drugged and heavy-lidded simply from the resonant vibrations of his presence so intimately invading your aura.

Sensation after molten sensation lapped at your subconscious like so many retreating tides. Until at last, you couldn't ignore the heated tide pool gathering at your body's core any longer.

The pointed awareness of your insistent arousal made the heavy air around you both feel thick and charged as ionized smoke. You found your gaze drifting helplessly to the sharp vee of Terushima's sculpted collarbones peeking above the open collar of his shirt. Followed the lean cords of his sinewy throat working in subtle rhythm as he remained focused on his artistry flowing across your skin.

When your heated stare lingered on the captivating sight of his silver tongue piercing dashing across his full lower lip in an subconscious display of concentration, a tremulous sigh escaped your parted mouth. The soft exhalation seemed to reverberate in the tense silence surrounding you both, finally shattering whatever tranquil spell had fallen over the studio.

Terushima went still as death, piercing tawny gaze flickering up to find yours -- pupils already blown wide with unveiled desire. You watched with breathless anticipation as he slowly, deliberately dragged the tip of that tantalizingly studded tongue across his lips once more, maintaining searing eye contact all the while.

"Getting a little hot under the collar there?" he rasped after a protracted, loaded moment. His voice was a sandpaper rasp of pure provocation, sending an involuntary shudder cascading through you.

Despite the heated evidence of your body's pronounced interest in your current intimate position, you managed a shaky semblance of your usual unaffected bravado. "What can I say? All these glimpses of your 'artistry' on display have me...appreciating your full skillset," you husked in return, allowing your eyes to drag a deliberate path down the lean, tattooed canvas of his torso in a shameless ogle.

"Pretty sure that kind of appreciation is gonna cost extra though," Terushima growled in response -- low and full of sensual promise. Before you could formulate a rejoinder, he closed the scant distance between you with one smooth, predatory slide of his weight until you were essentially caged between the hard planes of his body and the unforgiving surface beneath.

Your breath caught in your throat as he braced one forearm alongside your ribcage, effectively trapping you while simultaneously allowing you an unobstructed view of every delicious inch of coiled muscle and colorful ink now on display. The heavy musk of him surrounded you utterly, drenching your senses in potent masculinity until your mouth practically watered from proximity alone.

"I distinctly remember someone being warned about behaving during our sessions," Terushima growled against the shell of your ear, lips brushing fire across your sensitized skin until you shuddered violently. "We might need to have a conversation about adding rush fees to your tab...if you keep squirming around while I'm workin' my magic like this..."

The suggestive undercurrent of meaning laced through every word had your core clenching with thrumming desire. You couldn't bite back the shameless whine that spilled free as the delicious heat of Terushima's body seared through your thin layers, pressing against you with tantalizing friction. Blindly, you reached out to anchor yourself by fisting a hand at the nape of his neck -- relishing the silken slide of short hair around your fingers as you tugged impatiently.

"Maybe I want to misbehave," you whispered without a hint of compunction, already shifting restlessly against the unyielding planes pinning you down. "I'm definitely craving some...overtime benefits to go along with your services."

Terushima let out a dark chuckle of sheer sin against your tingling pulse point. The wet heat of his tongue swept across the same electrified path a split-second later, sending lightning jolts of blistering arousal ricocheting down your nerve endings. You cried out in shameless bliss as his wicked mouth latched onto the sensitive juncture, suckling ardently while one broad palm palmed your ribs before skating sinuously lower...

As his calloused fingertips finally drifted beneath the hem of your shirt to brand searing paths across exposed skin, Terushima broke away with heated labored breaths. You watched him chase the mesmerizing glint of his tongue piercing with a lust-darkened stare, utterly entranced by the lurid promise blazing from every chiseled inch of his features.

"Better be sure you can handle this particular bit of artistry sweetheart," he growled at last, the gravelly burr sending fresh sparks of liquid heat pooling at your apex. "I have a feeling my...techniques are about to get pretty fucking intense before we're through..."

With that salacious warning, Terushima bent his shoulders and descended upon your parted lips in a searing kiss of pure possession. Your mouth welcomed the sensual invasion with a broken cry, arching eagerly to deepen the molten exchange.

The kiss was all tongue and teeth and white-hot desperation -- a tangle of need and lust and sheer intoxicating chemistry. Every slide of his talented tongue stud against the sensitive roof of your mouth sent another gush of molten arousal spilling between your thighs, until you were a writhing, pleading mess of raw sensuality beneath his expert touch.

All the while, Terushima kept up his deft assault on the hyper-sensitive nerves dotting your midsection -- skirting the outer edges of your needy sex but never quite making full contact. Each teasing pass only stoked the inferno roiling within your core until you were nearly ready to beg for more.

At last, when the searing heat at your core had become a raging conflagration, Terushima finally dragged his palm upward. The slow, torturous slide across feverish flesh had you keening into his kiss, desperate for the promise of more. Then his clever fingers were tracing the lace banding your ribcage before finally, blissfully sliding the material upwards and over your breasts.

A throaty growl escaped the artist's mouth as his hands cupped your naked flesh, kneading the tender peaks until you were nearly delirious with want. Breaking the kiss with a ragged curse, Terushima's tawny gaze dropped to rake an unabashedly hungry perusal of the bounty on display.

"Fuck me...you're goddamn perfection," he muttered under his breath, thumbing across the puckered peaks until you shuddered with renewed pleasure. Then he was bending to swirl his tongue around one nipple, drawing it deep into the scalding heat of his mouth to suckle mercilessly.

You writhed and sobbed against the delicious onslaught, hips bucking in restless, frantic search for the friction you needed most. Terushima took the movement as his cue to redouble his efforts, laving attention on first one nipple then the other. His wicked tongue stud grazed each sensitive bud with the most delicious pressure, leaving a wet, cooling trail of saliva in its wake that only served to heighten the throbbing ache between your legs.

By the time Terushima slid a calloused palm beneath the waistband of your jeans, you were already a dripping mess of desperate need. He didn't disappoint -- fingers finding your molten core with practiced ease. The artist hummed his appreciation against your collarbone as he traced your soaked slit, gathering the evidence of your arousal on dexterous digits.

"Jesus fucking Christ, look at this sweet cunt just begging for my cock," he groaned, nipping sharply at the underside of your jaw before laving the sting with his tongue. "And all mine...just gotta show you a bit more of my craftsmanship before I really get my fill, yeah?"

"Fuck...fuck...please," you whined, barely aware of the words spilling from your mouth as you writhed mindlessly beneath his relentless, expert touch. The blunt pads of Terushima's fingertips continued to circle your aching clit, alternating featherlight caresses with punishing strokes -- never giving you the leverage you needed to chase the impending release fluttering at the edge of your consciousness.

You were a mess of sensual desperation by the time he finally, mercifully slipped a finger inside your throbbing channel. His name was a breathy chant falling from your lips, a prayer for deliverance from the exquisite torment. Then, just as you felt your climax cresting -- a second finger plunged into the tight, slick sheath.

The sudden, delicious stretch was a shock to your system, forcing a startled gasp from your throat. Before you could catch your breath, Terushima was thrusting those thick, calloused digits with a rough, driving rhythm that had you sobbing and arching from the blinding sensations.

"That's it, give me what I need," he rasped against the shell of your ear. The guttural rasp was so full of pure masculine dominance and primal ownership that it nearly tipped you over the edge. But still, he kept his fingers just shy of hitting the right angle -- holding you right on the precipice until you were a wreck of incoherent babbling and shameless pleas for release.

Then, with one final twist and curl, the dam finally shattered. A scream ripped from your lungs as a wave of blinding ecstasy washed through you. Your core clenched violently around the invading digits, riding each crashing wave as Terushima worked you through the orgasm.

"So fucking beautiful...you have no idea how many times I've fantasized about this," he was saying, the words muffled against your sweat-dampened temple. "You coming undone around my fingers, so hot and wet and eager. Fuck, you're gonna feel so perfect around my cock. Just you wait..."

Terushima didn't stop pumping his fingers through the aftershocks, nor the filthy words dripping from his sinful mouth. Instead, he seemed to sense exactly how close you were to another crest and doubled down -- sliding a third finger into the pulsating grip of your channel. The sudden pressure was overwhelming, almost painful.

It was too much. Not enough. You were flying apart at the seams.

You were barely aware of the keening wail that accompanied the second crest -- a violent crescendo of sensations that left you gasping and limp against the padded chair. By the time your vision cleared, Terushima had pulled away to admire his handiwork. His fingers glistened with your release, and his pupils were blown wide with unmistakable hunger.

"I don't think I'm ever gonna get tired of seeing that look," he breathed after a protracted moment, voice raw with need. "Fuck, it's gonna be hard to walk out of this room right now. Pretty sure that was the hottest shit I've ever seen."

You couldn't find the words to respond, instead simply watching with glassy eyes as he dragged his soaked digits across his lower lip. When the tip of his pierced tongue darted out to lick the wetness clean, the blatant carnality of the gesture had another tremor racing through your limbs.

Terushima seemed to realize just how much he was affecting you -- if the sudden flash of pure lust across his chiseled features was any indication. As his eyes darkened impossibly further, his mouth quirked up into a devilish smirk.

"Y'know, there is something else we could do...to really put those creative juices of mine to work." The tone was a sinful rasp, dripping with sensual promise and wicked intent. It took a moment for the implication to sink in, but then your brain was short-circuiting again with a flood of white-hot arousal.

"You can't be serious," you managed in a broken whisper, unable to tear your gaze from the lewd picture his lips painted. "There's no way that will even fit."

Terushima just shrugged, the motion full of fluid grace as he rose smoothly to his feet. "Worth a shot," he rasped. "And who knows, maybe all the extra lubrication from those two orgasms you just gave me will make it easier..."

You swallowed hard, eyes flitting helplessly towards the very obvious tenting in the front of his pants. As if reading your mind, he made quick work of the zipper and shucked the garment entirely -- standing gloriously naked before you in all his chiseled, inked glory.

"Holy shit..." was all you could manage at the sight of him.

His erection was truly a work of art, in all the best possible ways. Thick and heavy, it curved upward with a slight upward tilt -- the tip already flushed an angry red and glistening with pre-cum. It looked impossibly large from your vantage point, though Terushima was already reaching down to fist the base with a lazy pump.

"Well? You wanna give it a try, or am I gonna have to take care of things myself?" The words were a playful rasp, laced with filthy insinuation and a challenge for you to rise to.

You felt the last vestiges of hesitation crumble away beneath the weight of your desire, giving way to the raw, primal urges screaming at you to throw yourself into Terushima's waiting embrace. In the blink of an eye, you were rising to your feet, stripping away the remaining clothing in a haphazard pile and stepping boldly forward to close the distance between you.

When his lean, tattooed torso collided with yours, the feeling was pure euphoria. Your mouths came together in a messy, passionate clash of tongues and teeth and desperation. Terushima's hands were everywhere, sliding over every curve and dip of your naked form like a man possessed.

Your own eager touch was no less frantic. You were consumed by the need to taste every inch of him, to feel the firm planes of his body pressed against you with delicious friction. As the heated slide of your skin against his became more frenzied, a litany of curses tumbled from Terushima's mouth -- a low, sensual stream of praise that had you nearly sobbing with need.

"You're gonna fuckin' kill me, but I have to have you. Now," he growled against the shell of your ear, punctuating the statement by fisting a hand in your hair and tugging hard. "Been dying to have you ride my cock, just like this. Need to feel this tight little cunt squeezing the cum out of me."

Before you could fully process the filthy declaration, you were being lifted off the ground. Then your back hit the padded recliner with a jarring impact that made you squeak in surprise. In a heartbeat, Terushima was bracketing your hips with his thighs and bracing both palms on either side of your head -- caging you in with the intoxicating heat of his body.

You whimpered at the heady sensation of him sliding his thick length between your legs, coating himself in your wetness. Then he was lining up at your entrance and pushing inside in a slow, relentless glide that had you arching and sobbing with the delicious pressure.

Terushima's head hung heavy above yours, jaw clenched tight and sweat-dampened strands of blonde hair sticking to his forehead. The corded muscles of his shoulders and neck stood out in sharp relief as he fought for control.

"Fuck me...so goddamn perfect, sweetheart. Gonna ruin me for any other pussy," he ground out. The gravelly rasp sent a fresh gush of liquid arousal spilling around his thick shaft. "Can't wait to feel you cumming all over my cock, milking me dry while I paint that pretty little cunt."

All you could do was whine incoherently in response, the sensation of being so perfectly stretched and full of him making it impossible to form words. It felt like you were being torn apart in the most glorious way possible, the sweetest ache throbbing between your thighs.

When Terushima finally started to move, you thought you might fly apart from the intensity. He pulled out slowly before slamming home in a powerful thrust that had you crying out and clawing at his shoulders. Each successive movement was more forceful than the last, the tempo building into a brutal rhythm that left you breathless and reeling.

Your entire world shrank down to the single point of contact where your bodies moved as one. Terushima was growling unintelligible filth in your ear, telling you how perfect and tight and wet you were, how he couldn't wait to see you come all over his cock. The filthy words stoked the flames of your pleasure, the mounting pressure reaching an impossible pitch.

Just when you thought you couldn't possibly take anymore, Terushima reached down between your sweat-slickened bodies and found your swollen clit. His expert touch was like an electrical current, sending bolts of sizzling pleasure ricocheting through every nerve ending. You felt the dam inside you breaking, the release coming in a violent torrent that had you screaming his name and shaking beneath him.

Terushima was right behind you, groaning and grinding his pelvis against yours as his cock twitched and pulsed. Then he was cumming inside you in thick, hot spurts. His lips were on yours, devouring you in a kiss full of pure primal passion and need. You clung to him with a ferocity that should have alarmed you, but it was impossible to care.

"Fuuuuck...you are everything I dreamed and more," Terushima rasped against the sweat-slicked column of your throat. The words were barely coherent, but they sent a thrill of pleasure and satisfaction rushing through your veins. "

You hummed in agreement, relishing the warm, heavy weight of his body on top of yours. After a moment, he stirred and pressed a lazy, lingering kiss against your mouth.

"Y'know, we still got time before our next appointment...and I'm sure as hell not finished with you yet," he murmured. There was an undercurrent of suggestion in the graveled tone, and the implication was enough to have your core clenching around him.

"Better not be," you shot back, nipping at his bottom lip. "Because we're definitely adding rush fees to that tab."

"Mmmm...you're gonna pay in the best way possible, baby. Trust me."

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader smut #terushima yuuji #haikyuu terushima #terushima x reader #terushima smut #terushima yūji #yuuji terushima

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hellomynameisbisexual · 2 years

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"We are challenging people to face their own external and internal biphobia. We are demanding attention. We are redefining 'anything that moves' on our own terms."

So declares the introduction to Anything That Movies, a bisexual zine that ran from 1991 to 2001. Founded by editor and photographer Karla Rossi, Anything That Moves got its name from the stereotype that bisexual people will sleep with "anything that moves," and it sought to redefine these and other assumptions about bi people in its decade-long run. Rossi didn't respond to Mashable's request for comment.

All 22 issues of Anything That Moves are now archived by a group of young bisexual people and allies. Not only does the archive introduce a new generation to a rare instance of bi-focused writing, but it's also shockingly relevant to issues bi people face today.

Discovering the bisexual zine

Snippets of the introduction have circulated the internet in recent years, and they're referred to as the ATM "manifesto" on its website. The words caught the attention of bi writer Kravitz Marshall, but he had never seen other material from the zine.

In 2020, Marshall found the Anything That Moves website, a relic of the early 2000s with an incomplete archive. He then bought issue #16 from Bolerium Books, a source for out-of-print books and material related to social movements. Marshall scanned each page of the issue and uploaded it online for free; he had planned on doing this for all issues of Anything That Moves, but acquaintances on a bisexual Discord server expressed interest in helping. The discussion grew so much that they created a separate server.

"It was the first time I became aware such a thing existed and I became very excited at the thought of finding and reading more copies," said Jo, a bi femme activist who became involved in the project and now helms the archive email.

The group found issue #2 via Reddit, but believed finding all the issues would be a difficult process — until a member of the now-inactive archive server was able to gather PDFs of every issue through her university library.

"It was thrilling and such a relief," Marshall told Mashable, "because had this not happened, we might've had to do it the hard and expensive way."

"It happened so fast," Jo recalled. "I just remember about seven bisexuals, including Krav and myself, putting our heads together to figure out the best way to get our hands on all these copies and how to share them with the rest of the LGBTQ community."

Now, the work of Marshall, Jo, and a group of bi people and allies is gathered in the archive.

Joy and heartbreak of Anything That Moves

Reading through the archive is, personally, an ambivalent experience. Anything That Moves began before I was even born, and I feel kindred reading this decades-old work; it's like reading discussions I've had with bi friends back to me. The articles, reviews, fiction, and poetry in discusses visibility, (non)monogamy, the inclusion of trans people in bisexuality — to name merely a few topics still pertinent today.

Despite the joy of reading this bi-centric work, however, it's telling how little has changed since 1991.

Jo, who grew up in a conservative area, found the zine refreshing and comforting. "Even when you discover/read/watch anything regarding LGBTQ history, it’s very rare for any specific focus to be given to the bisexual community," they said. "Finding Anything That Moves was a shock to my system."

Marshall was touched by the "unfiltered life" within its pages. "There's urgency, there's knowledge, there's joy, there's righteous rage, there's lust," Marshall said, "and you don't have to go searching between the lines for it — it grabs your shoulders and shakes you until you reach the back cover."

Despite the joy of reading this bi-centric work, however, it's telling how little has changed since 1991.

For Jo, the experience of reading Anything That Moves has been both special and heartbreaking. "A lot of the subject matter is stuff that the bi community has been dealing with forever," they said. "The same stereotypes and heterosexism that bisexuals faced nearly thirty years ago are still very prevalent today."

"It really hits you that virtually nothing has changed about the outside perception of bisexuality and bisexuals," Marshall agreed. "Almost every single issue we grapple with now is a hand-me-down."

He pointed to a piece in the inaugural issue called "This Poem Can Be Put Off No Longer" to display his point. Here are the first few stanzas:

The first several stanzas of "This Poem Can Be Put Off No Longer" by Susan Carlton, featured in the first issue of 'Anything That Moves.' Credit: Anything That Moves / Susan Carlton

The poem continues, but the point is clear from the start: Bisexual people aren't believed for who they are. They're belittled and told to "choose a side," that they're bisexual for attention. It's difficult to think that this poem is over 30 years old.

The poem "truly could've been written yesterday... or 50 years ago," said Marshall. "How long do we have to keep screaming the same things to the world over and over until people stop pretending we're speaking another galaxy's language?"

Stigma against bisexuality still persists today, and impacts people's lives: Bisexual people are more likely to be anxious and depressed; they're also more likely to experience intimate partner violence.

The stagnancy of the world's perception of bisexual people infuriates Marshall, he said, but it's imperative to still talk about these issues. "You can't just stop talking about these issues, so you just say the same things, because the world that needs to listen to you refuses to move on. And I'm not a fan of repeating myself," he said. "You just feel like you're going crazy."

The solace of Anything That Moves, however, is that even though progress has been slow, fellow bisexual people can relate to the shared experience detailed in its pages.

"How long do we have to keep screaming the same things to the world over and over until people stop pretending we're speaking another galaxy's language?"

After Jo came out, for example, they internalized that being bi made them "second-rate." They didn't feel welcome in cisheterosexual circles nor LGBTQ circles, a common feeling for bisexual people who feel like they're straddling both. Searching for issues of Anything That Moves, part of bisexual history, helped Jo connect with other bi people. Being able to meet others facing the same issues, and sharing this historical information and searching for more, has made the biggest impact on them and their identity.

"I don't feel as alone as I once did because bisexuals of today wanted to learn more about their bisexual elders," they said.

Those who have found the archive have also felt that connection. The archive team has received waves of emails, messages, and followers — some wanting to help, others thanking them.

"For the most part, people are just delighted to finally get to read the magazine," Marshall said.

Even this positive feedback echoes the sentiment of the time. Readers wrote to Anything That Moves, and some of those letters are published in subsequent issues. "You can see so clearly how life-changing these publications were to some people," Marshall said, "so thank God it was brought to the world."

"It's something I definitely needed when I was a closeted, bisexual teenager."

The archive has helped current bi readers ground in their bisexuality, Jo said. The archivists even connected with some former Anything That Moves editors, who discovered them through the project. "I'm just happy we got a chance to say thank you for everything they left for us to discover," Jo said.

There's still work to be done for the archive, like transcriptions for easier reading and sharing. Some people involved even planned on making an original virtual bi zine, Marshall said, but due to personal commitments, the idea fizzled out within months.

"I still hope it'll exist one day," Marshall said. "If by some miracle the future grants me that wish, I won't reveal its title, but I find it pleasantly cheeky."

For now, of course, there's nearly two-dozen issues of Anything That Moves. Jo believes the zine is a gift.

"I want to be able to share this gift with anyone else who may need it," they said. "It's something I definitely needed when I was a closeted, bisexual teenager."

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heroes-among-us-all · 1 year

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hello! could i request for hcs where bakugo has a clingy babbly girl who always bugs him by following him around (bonus points: THEY'RE NEIGHBORS) and says she loves him all the time but he always just scoffs and ignores her then one time she ends up giving up or getting hurt and ends up distancing herself in the process and he starts to seek her out oMg you can take it from there IM JUST SO HAPPY YOUR ASK BOX IS OPEN YOURE MY FAVE BNHA IMAGINE BLOG AHH

I made this into a scenario instead of headcanons. Hope that's ok!

From the moment you moved into the house across from his, you'd already decided that you would stick to Katsuki like glue.

You just couldn't help it. After all, he stood out from the rest (even if it was in a bad way at times), which made it almost impossible for you to keep your eyes off him. He was headstrong and brave, not to mention incredibly attractive. Before you'd realized it, you were crushing on him hard.

But being the kind of person that you were, it didn't occur to you to try and hide your feelings. Instead, you clung to his side and made sure to seek him out at every available opportunity. You were incredibly thankful to have made it into U.A, because it allowed you to see him during class as well.

At the beginning, Katsuki thought you would give up and get bored of pestering him after a while. He clearly didn't seem to realize just how strongly you felt about him.

No matter how often he scoffed at you or told you to get lost, you were still right there, grinning at him ear-to-ear.

"I love you, Katsuki!"

Words that the average person struggled to say fell from your lips without so much as a second thought. The first time Katsuki had heard you say you loved him, his eyes had gone wider than ever. He even wondered if you were just playing a prank on him or something.

She's such an idiot, he thought. She doesn't even mean that. It's so dumb.

He'd long since convinced himself that you were just some ditzy girl without a serious bone in your body. That was why, even when you kept on insisting that you loved him - more than anything, as you so often stressed - Katsuki didn't take it to heart. He never stopped to actually consider that you were telling him the honest and unfiltered truth.

Until the day you got upset with him.

"Quit it with that sappy shit," he snapped. "I'm tired of hearing you spew the same garbage all the time."

It was just like any another day. You were clinging onto his arm and gushing about how much you loved him. As much as Katsuki wanted to say that he'd gotten to used to this by now, the truth was that he hadn't. Every time you hugged him or got extra close and said those kinds of things, he could feel his chest getting tight and his cheeks burning. Even if you were just running your mouth without meaning what you said, it was still embarrassing as all hell. And despite what most people probably thought, he did get flustered.

That was why he lashed out at you. He was fed up with being the only one to get worked up while you said all that stuff without even batting an eye. It wasn't like he actually disliked you or anything. Far from it, in fact. Even if he wouldn't admit it, you were the person he considered closest to him.

Perhaps that's why he felt comfortable speaking brashly. He'd always done it until now; why should today be any different?

Needless to say, dejection was quick to sweep across your face. You looked weary all of a sudden. You weren't smiling the way you usually did.

"Okay," you said softly. "I'm sorry. I just thought... I don't know. But I'm sorry. I should've taken the hint by now."

From that day onward, you didn't say a single word to him. You breezed past him in the hallways without so much as glancing his way. You didn't bother asking to walk home with him the way you usually did. Even when your parents came over to hang out at Katsuki's place - since your families were on good terms - you didn't come along with them. You purposefully stayed home, as if you no longer wanted anything to do with him. You were avoiding him. Did you not like him all of a sudden, or what the fuck?

Katsuki had always been stubborn, even as a child, so it took him a while to come to terms with the fact that he missed having you around. He missed having you cling to him and smile like you didn't have a single worry in the world. He missed seeing your cute face and feeling your arms wrap him in a hug.

Katsuki had liked you back for a while, but he was just too hardheaded to see it.

After finally coming to the realization that having you around was something he wanted, Katsuki did what he'd never done before and sought you out himself.

He managed to corner you during lunch, in the cafeteria, so that you couldn't try and pull a fast one on him. As expected, you refused to so much as meet eyes with him, but when Katsuki put his mind to something, he couldn't be deterred.

"You're done ignoring me," he frowned, grabbing you by the hand. Even though you tried to protest, he held on tight. "I need to talk to you. Aren't you going to hear me out?"

Katsuki didn't even realize it, but his gaze was nowhere near as confident and assured as it usually was. In fact, it was almost as if his eyes were pleading for you to stay. He really, really wanted you to stay with him.

Luckily, you'd always been the better person. Certainly a better person he was.

You nodded slowly. "Alright. Let's talk."

Relief couldn't even begin to express what Katsuki felt. For a moment, he thought he might faint from the stress. He was worried that you were seriously done with him for good. But you were giving him another chance, and this time, he wasn't going to screw it up.

Katsuki gripped your hand as tightly as he could while the two of you walked out of the cafeteria together. His eyes scanned the surrounding area, searching for someplace quiet and secluded. Confessing his feelings was actually a much more frightening thought than he would've liked to admit, but you were special to him. For you, he could set aside his petty pride.

After all, you were worth it.

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bnha #bnha imagines #my hero academia #mha imagines #my hero academia imagines #bnha headcanons #fluff #katsuki x reader #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero imagines

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zerobaselove · 1 year

Text

sharing sunsets | sung hanbin

pairing: sung hanbin x gn!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 871

warnings: none! lowercase intended, not proofread

prompts: 23. "why are you looking at me like that?"

notes: genuinely this had me giggling n kicking my feet! anon who requested this i hope u like it and that it's what you hoped for!

more often than not, you spent your summer nights with your best friend hanbin. calling him your best friend didn’t feel like enough, the way he made your heart race had made you realize that your feelings were far from friendly. and hanbin was too hard to read to gain any insight on how he felt; sure, he was always smiling around you and he had become more fond of skinship with you as time went on, but he was just that kind of guy.

the kind of guy that people fall for. the kind of guy you can’t help but admire as if he’s the most beautiful person in the world; and in all honesty, you were convinced he was.

these were the nights you cherished the most, the ones where you were sat on the blanket he kept in his car, watching the sun fall over the skyline, much like how you had fallen for him.

“isn’t it so pretty?” you wondered out loud, admiring the way the shades of orange and pink blend into the horizon. “so pretty,” he muttered; not taking his eyes off of you, unbeknownst to you. you smiled, your eyes trained on the setting sun for a few moments more, “it just feels unreal, no matter how many times i see it.” you rambled on before turning to look at the boy beside you, only to find him looking back at you with an undistinguishable look in his eyes.

“why are you looking at me like that?” you questioned, tilting your head slightly as you waited for a response. he shook his head for a moment, almost as if trying to return to reality before his lips parted. “because you’re prettier than any sunset.” he said matter-of-factly, as if unaware of the effect that confession would have on you.

you weren't sure how long you had sat there, mouth dry and head empty of anything other than the boy in front of you. the pinkish orange hue being cast on his skin wasn't helping your case, not able to form a single coherent sentence. you stuttered out a few syllables, being met with his ever so patient and loving smile.

you were a goner.

"was it something i said?" he giggled after another few moments of silence from you which finally brought you back down to earth for a moment. "was it something you-" you paused, in disbelief. did he really not know what his words were doing to you? "you can't just say that to me hanbin." you whined, smacking his arm in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere and get out of your own head.

"but it's true," he started, fully turning his body to face you as you subconsciously mirrored his movements. "i mean it's no wonder i'm in love with you, look at you." now it was his turn to sit there in disbelief over his own words. "shit, i-" his hands came up to cover his face. "i really blew that didn't i, pretend you didn't hear that." the words rushed out of his mouth like a waterfall of unfiltered thoughts.

peaking through his fingers for a moment, he made eye contact with you, hiding behind his fingers again as if playing hide and seek with his feelings. "god, now why are you looking at me like that." his words had been muffled by his hands, but you could still make out what he had said, and it was your turn to be bold.

"because hanbin," you grabbed his hands in your own, "i love you more than any sunset we've seen, and i've been wondering how you've felt about me for ages now."

"we've seen a lot of sunsets you know," he joked, still trying to process the mutual confession that was happening in front of his eyes. "i know, and i still love you more than every single one combined." you both breathed a sigh of relief in sync, the anxiety of not knowing how the other felt had dissipated, blown away by the warm breeze, leaving you with a new feeling amongst yourselves.

while the sky had turned more of a blue hue, the pink had remained dusted on his cheeks, and it was the prettiest he had ever looked. he was your own personal sunset.

"is it okay if i," he hesitated, leaning in closer to you in hopes of you getting the hint. you nodded, albeit a little too eagerly, "more than okay." his hand had come up to rest on your cheek, so gently, as if you would break, before connecting your lips. the feeling of his lips on yours was better than you could've imagined. the perfect moment with the perfect boy.

"god you're so pretty," he muttered, pulling apart from the kiss with a smile spreading from ear to ear despite trying to contain it. "you can't keep saying that to me hanbin." your blush intensified, looking down at your shoelaces to avoid his gaze, but he wasn't having that at all; lifting your chin to look at him, being met with a smile that you were sure would kill you. "i'm going to keep saying it, so get used to it."

#zerobaseone #zerobaseonefics #boys planet #boys planet fics #boys planet imagines #boys planet reactions #kpop #boys planet drabbles #zb1 #zb1 x reader #zb1 imagines #sung hanbin imagines

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lxclerc · 1 year

Text

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐲𝐞 | 𝐜𝐥𝟏𝟔

summary: “because if this is it then at least we can end this right.”

requested: [YES] [NO] warning: pure unfiltered angst, break up, soft/mild smut, oral sex (female receiving), implied p in v. pairing: charles leclerc x reader word count: 1760

note: my first post for 2023! hopefully this continues on. also don't ask me why i decided to write an angsty smut because i also don't know. happy new year, everyone!

masterlist

You know disappointment well. You’d go as far and say you know it a little better than love. Overtime, you learn to expect it – every trip, every plan, every dinner, you’re always ready for the chances of it not happening, always expecting disappointment in order to limit the damage.

You always thought you had no right to complain, no right to feel upset. You signed up for this after all, didn’t you? You knew that loving Charles meant sharing him – sharing him with the rest of the world, sharing him with the sport he loves. You knew from the very moment you realized that you loved him that he isn’t yours, that he will never be fully yours.

You always wondered just exactly how long you could take it. How long can you take waiting for him in an empty restaurant despite knowing he’d never come? How many excuses can you make to your family for his absence? How many nights can you spend waiting for a call or a text that never arrives? When does it all become too much? When do you finally stop adjusting your plans, adjusting your expectations, adjusting your life, in order to fit his?

You supposed you’d finally reached it. When after another sleepless night waiting, you realize that unconditional love simply isn’t enough.

He stands before you now though, so close that you can smell the cologne clinging to his skin, so close you can reach out and touch his cheeks, feel the heat of him one more time. You want to close the distance between you, to feel the beat of his heart against your own. You wanted everything to be okay and you so badly wanted okay to be enough.

“I wanted it to be you,” you said, voice hoarse and quiet, laced with so much emotion you’re surprised the words managed to slip past your lips. “Goddamn, I really wanted it to be you.”

And when the tears fell to his cheeks, you almost took it all back, almost laid yourself bare and raw in front of him once again, willing to wait, willing to sacrifice, willing to be whatever he needed you to be. Loving Charles is all consuming, every neuron in your body becomes stars at the brink of a supernova, his touch being the catalyst to push it all together.

But to break and be reborn each time is an utterly exhausting process no matter how beautiful and perhaps you’d reach a point of needing to close your wounds, to an end to a chapter. Being beautiful is no longer enough. To be loved but not cherished is no longer enough.

“It can still be me.”

There’s a plea in his voice that you’ve never heard before as his tears fell and this time, you did as your heart begged you to, you closed the distance between you as you wrapped your arms around the man you loved.

And when you pressed your lips against his perhaps for the last time, the salty mix of your tears is a reflection of your broken hearts.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips, your foreheads against each other. “But it’s not enough anymore.”

Charles’ arms seem to only tighten around you, terrified to let go in case it might be the last. His lips are greedy, seemingly trying to memorize the feel of your skin. “Not yet. Not yet please.”

“Okay,” you agreed. Who are you to deprive him of this? “Tomorrow.”

Your heart was already breaking, why not twist the knife?

Another tear fell to his cheek as he nodded. “Okay. Tomorrow.”

And with that, you welcomed the searing heat of his lips against your skin, giving him more access to your neck as the two of you stumbled to the bedroom you once shared. One more taste, you promised yourself. A parting gift, a goodbye.

Your hands were already working to rid him of his shirt before the two of you could reach the bed. You let him gently push you down, his eyes glassy against the dark room with only the streetlights from the window providing little light. But it didn’t matter. You know him like the back of your hand. You know where every freckle is. You know the exact curb of his lips and the heat from his hands.

Charles Leclerc will forever be inked in your soul, a part of you you have no desire to ever rid of.

“I love you,” he whispers, voice shaky as his hands reach to cup your face. His eyes met your, trying to convey what words cannot. “I love you so much.”

And you’re crying again as you pull him closer. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Charles takes his time. He takes his time as he gently peels off your clothes. He takes his time as he marks your skin and unclasps your bra. He takes his time as his hand holds your breast and as his lips plants kisses along your chest. It was not pleasure either of you are after. It was not for pleasure as he explores your body.it was not for pleasure as his hands touched your most sensitive area.

He’s memorizing you, trying to memorize the exact curb of your body, the heat of your skin, the feeling of you below him. He’s a tape record, determined to record the moans and gasps escaping your lips as he touches you, determined to tattoo it all to his memory.

“Charles,” you gasped as his finger entered you, thumb against your clit. His touch lingers, slow and gentle but it leaves your body abuzz. “God.”

He adds another finger and your back rises as he forms a rhythm. He moans as your nails burrow into his skin, hard muscles flexing against the pain but his movement doesn’t falter.

He’s patient, not as domineering as you’ve known him to be. His touch is soft as he swallows your moans. It’s not pleasure he’s after tonight but rather the intimacy of becoming one for the last time.

“So close,” you manage in between pants, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as Charles’ fingers slightly pick up pace, hitting the exact spot you needed him to.

“Go on, baby,” he coos, lips marking up your neck. “Come for me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice as your body arches, toes curling. A chorus of pleases and Charles escapes your lips . Charles doesn’t think there could be a much better sound in the world as he speeds up. You’re shaking as you ride out your high, vision cloudy and sweat clinging your bodies together.

With a weak, shaking hand, you wipe off his tears. “I love you.”

“You’re beautiful,” he tells you. “Je vais passer ma vie entière à me remettre de toi.” I will spend my entire life getting over you.

A sob tumbled out of your lips as you pulled him closer and as you held each other, bodies shaking, you realize that perhaps you’ll end up spending your entire life trying to get over him too.

Neither of you are willing to let the other go, salty kisses and desperate declarations of love being whispered against each other’s skins as he enters you. Moans and gasps mixed with sobs as he becomes a part of you for the last time.

And as the morning comes and the sun trickles from the open window, you wake with his arms still around you, tear stains on the pillow case. You’re facing him, his face inches from yours. Your breath stills as you memorize his face from this close. You take your time counting each freckle and memorizing the curl of his lashes. You inhale his scent and basks in his warmth.

But you know it can’t last forever. You know that if you don’t leave now, you might not be able to leave at all. You know that when you see those green eyes and hear his pleas for you to stay, you will.

And so you leave. You remove his arms from around you and gather your things.

I will miss you forever, your note said – a final goodbye.

—

Your laughter echoes with the loud booming of the fireworks above you, arms thrown around a friend or another in celebration as the party goers around you seems to only grow more energized as the clock approaches midnight.

You’re a little more than tipsy but not quite drunk yet, your mind beginning fuzzy but not quite lost yet. You’re in that euphoric state of in between, feeling yourself losing all of your reservations with each sip or shot you took.

“Happy New Year!” Your best friend, arm wrapped around you, screamed by your ear. The two of you are swaying with the crowd of people.

“Not quite yet,” you say, giggly.

Just as the words leave your lips, the counting begins.

Ten

Nine

Eighth

You throw your head back, taking a sip from your drink as you embrace the vibrations of everyone screaming in sync.

Seven

Six

Five

In a moment of curiosity, your eyes flit across the sea of people. You hadn’t expected to find green eyes already trained on you, full of longing as his hand nurses a cold beer. And it was so cliche, so overdone, but everyone disappears, becoming background noise as your eyes meet, the two of you seemingly the only people on the planet, standing across the room but somehow feeling as though it’s ocean’s away.

A thousand words exchanged between the two of you, a thousand promises and a thousand pain and a thousand understanding.

Four

Three

Two

The last time you’d seen Charles was the morning you left. You did as you both promised, loving each other goodbye. Maybe you expected it to hurt. You expected the ache in your chest and the heaviness in your soul. That’s certainly all you felt the days that followed. You’d avoided everything to do with him, even avoiding the screen of your television every sunday.

But it doesn’t hurt now.

One

Maybe throughout the weeks and the months, you’re both still silently hoping that time had made a mistake and that the universe reserved a moment for the two of you to find each other again.

taglist: @ricsaigaslec @dragon-of-winterfell @coffeehurricanes @rdtbattinson @privcherry7 @miniminescapist @sebsdaniel @strelcka @writing-about-current-obsessions @amsofftrack @lostinketterdam @bisexual-desi @cialovessirlewis @multilovebot @lovelynikol16 @troybolton-14 @ohthemissery @dr3lover @myescapefromthislife @sunf1owerrq @the6ccnsp6cyy @t-nd-rfoot

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc x y/n #formula 1 #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #cl16 x reader #f1 one shot #charles leclerc imagines

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schizospec-culture-is · 11 days

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undiagnosed schizospec culture is like being on fire all of the time but nobody can see it. i've been in so many situations where I was debilitatingly distressed or confused but unable to convey its direness. only to have my intense brain processes trivialized and dismissed in favour of being suggested the unobtaineable reality that I could just simply try to be normal™.

also my brain keeps making up these random demons that are going to be behind a door whenever I open it, but it happens so often that I just kinda.. don't care anymore? I feel numb and drained from being paranoid all the time. It doesn't matter that the chance that one particular scenario could happen is only 0.000006%, that's still not 0. I feel plagued by countless permutations looping around on a traintrack at the speed of sound in my mind.

also I keep trying to find hidden meanings behind strange coincidences and experiences. like why do they use the word 'meander' so much in Hermitcraft? everytime I hear a Hermit saying it I wonder if they coordinated it. though I don't think I've heard it yet in season 10. also why is it not spelled miander? meander looks wrong. it's wrong. it's wrong.

that's only a mere snippet of my constant thoughts. it honestly feels kinda relieving to just say them unfiltered even if they might not make sense.

#i hope you can find people who take you seriously #its so hard but im wishing you the best #schizospec culture is #schizospec #schizo spectrum #psychosis #psychotic #actually psychotic #neurodivergent #tw #tw: ableism #tw: delusions

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elderberries-and-honey · 2 months

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After the shock wore off, Winifred invited both men inside for tea. Harold, who insisted she call him Harry instead, was incredibly thankful for the hospitality after their travels, and he and Winifred got on straight away.

They shared stories of their mother & sister happily and seemed genuinely curious about each other’s lives. As they talked, they began to notice little quirks in each other's mannerisms that made both of them realise Alice's spirit was still alive and well within them.

Lawrence listened curiously, watching his wife warm up to her Uncle the more they got to know each other.

Before they knew it, the sun was beginning to set over the hillside, a beautiful orange glow cascading into the dining room, and as they chatted and drank their way through an entire pot of tea, they almost forgot any mention of money or business.

However, not everyone at the table was keen on taking a stroll down memory lane.

Gerald didn’t bother to remove his hat or drink a single drop of tea; he seemed to have no intention to make himself cozy in their home. Instead, he lowered his head and glowered the whole time, arms crossed as some sort of defense mechanism, not uttering a word until he’d finally had enough of their small talk.

He leaned in towards Harry, bushy eyebrows somehow furrowing even tighter before speaking. “Shall I remind you of the reason we’re here, brother?” He enquired, impatiently.

Harry sighed, bringing his hands together before he explained everything, starting with the night Alice first fled the Bloomsburg home.

Of course, Winifred had heard this story as a girl, and later on, began asking questions once she was old enough to be curious about her mother's family and where she came from. Hearing it through an unfiltered lens as an adult was very different though, and somehow worse than she’d ever thought. As Harry recounted the tale, she realised just how cruel her maternal grandmother had truly been to her mother.

As he continued, he informed them that unbeknownst to anyone, Herbert, Winifred’s grandfather, never wrote Alice out of the will as he was instructed by his wife and she was the heir to both his vast fortune and successful business, however neither could be turned over to her until Ada passed away, and she outlived her husband for many years. It seemed he had less than traditional beliefs and wanted his daughter to be able to support herself without needing a husband to do it for her.

But, after a series of faulty investments, it seemed the company had become less than profitable over the years and was due to go under at any moment.

"So you mean to tell us that my wife has inherited the Bloomsburg fortune?" Lawrene asked, more enthusiasm in his tone than Winifred would have liked.

"Well technically speaking, Mr. Baudelaire, since Miss Winifred is married, you have." Harry answered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

For the first time since they'd sat at the table, Gerald chuckled darkly to himself. "Rightfully so, if you ask me. Leaving this company to a woman in the first place was a load of codswallop."

"But neither Mrs. Baudelaire or I know the first thing about running a business, much less one doomed to fail." Lawrence replied, paying no mind to Gerald's terribly sexist comment.

Both Bloomsburg brothers went on to explain a deal of sorts. If the Baudelaire's signed the company over to them, they would take over the legalities of closing a business, and handle all other affairs concerning the estate, if they split the inheritance with them.

While the men discussed the finer details, Winifred sat in her chair silently. She didn't care about the business itself, truthfully she wanted nothing to do with any of it, even the money. But Lawrence hadn't even stopped to ask what she thought, or consider her feelings on the matter.

Quietly, she excused herself outside for a breath of fresh air and time to process everything she’d learn that afternoon.

It felt queer to doubt what seemed to be a once in a lifetime chance to escape poverty, for her husband never to work long hours or do back breaking work. To send her children to school and give them a life of opportunities that she could have never imagined even in her wildest dreams. It was surreal to envision such a different life, and as she tried to picture it, she could only think of her mother who had been robbed of it.

After a while, Harry came out to find her. “May I sit?” He asked, gesturing to the seat next to her on the wooden bench. She nudged Thistle out of the way and scooted over to give him some room to join her.

“I know we don’t know each other all that well, Winifred, but I did know your mother’s face; how you resemble her…it’s as if I'm looking at a photograph." He smiled to himself at how true it was before observing her expression again. "And I can recall the look on her face when something puzzled her. Will you tell me your troubles?”

As she looked back at Harry, she wasn't sure what to expect. It wouldn't be a stretch of the imagination for him to be disinterested in her concerns and only inquiring over her dismay out of politeness.

Except, instead of a troubled expression like her own, she only saw a face wanting to comfort. She had not seen that face for such a long time, and she was surprised to recognize it so easily, for she too recognized Alice's face in his own.

“I…I don’t know what to make of this.” She admitted once she decided she could trust his intentions. “But my husband has already made up his mind and since I am just a woman, it seems I have no say in the matter.”

Harry listened while she expressed her concerns until he was sure she'd gotten out all that she needed to say. It felt nice to be vulnerable with someone, her relief over having someone to express these things to was almost tangible.

In return, he shared with her how nearly inseparable he and Alice had once been, how much he missed her, and that he regretted not doing more to keep in contact with her before she passed.

Afterwards, he turned to her with a bittersweet expression, pain and regret glowing in his eyes, yet a subtle softness painted on his lips. "I might not have spoken to your mother for a long time, Winifred, but I do know this... everything she did, she did for you. She would want you to have a good life, no matter what."

"Even if that means taking money from my very estranged family?" She asked with a slight laugh, noticing how ridiculous it sounded to say out loud.

He chuckled, also realising the ludicrousness of the situation. "Even then." He assured her.

“And, Miss Winifred, if I may say one more thing, don't pay any mind to my brother. He's nothing but a chuckle head, you understand?” He added, waving his hand as if to dismiss his older brother. Winifred giggled in response, feeling much less guilty than she had only moments ago. "You are more than just 'some woman'. You are Alice Monet's daughter."

Before Winifred could ask what he meant by that or how he came to know the last name her mother had chosen for herself, he reached inside the pocket of his coat to retrieve what at first glance appeared to be a crumpled piece of paper. "I thought you might want this." He said, handing it to her quickly.

There in her hands was a photograph of herslef as a girl, dated February 13th, 1876 - her 7th birthday. "I found it while going through my father's things." He mumbled, trying to hide a playful smile before heading back inside.

next / previous / first

#my internet has been wonky and cutting out all week and i got tired of fighting with it yesterday #but i'm soooo excited to get started on this next era guys!!!!#1893 #ts4 historical #sims 4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge #decades challenge #ts4 legacy #ts4 storystelling #sims 4 legacy #sims 4 storystelling #the baudelaire legacy #1890 #winifred baudelaire #lawrence baudelaire

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stilljuststardust · 2 months

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What to do with this aching feeling of frustration. I want to live my dream life now, I want to have everything revised now, but I try to manifest it all for so long and it seems to be not working. I know that as I type it’s not working that makes it not work but I’m soooo tired, doing everything right and still seeing no results. Btw thank you for your blog 🫶

Answer "What to do with the feeling of frustration":

Hey, it's taken me a minute to respond so I hope that by now you're feeling a little better. Anyway, here's your answer:

Your feelings are incredibly real and valid. I have to often remind myself that how I feel emotionally does not always reflect where I am. Some days I don't sleep enough or I forget to eat breakfast and I feel like the world is ending.

You are not alone. It's very very easy to fall into the mindset of "well, I feel like shit and I don't like how often I'm feeling it I must be doing something wrong" but it's important to remind ourselves that it isn't a logical thought process.

The difference between sadness and suffering is resistance. It's OKAY to feel like shit. Feeling like shit isn't going to stop you. Sometimes it hurts much more to suppress the pain than to feel it and process it.

Give yourself space to feel your feelings without assigning meaning to them.

You don't need to shit rainbows and be ridiculously happy to manifest. You just need to know.

Know that no matter what happens your 4D is your true reality. You do not have to feel pure unfiltered joy to know that. Accept your desires as truth because and I cannot stress this enough the 4D IS real. It is really happening.

I understand that some words will sound empty until you say them yourself.

I can tell you over and over that your 4D is literally real and that your only job is to remember that, but that's something that has to click internally.

It is your decision whether or not to believe it. Your beliefs shape reality.

Stardust saying "shit" counter:

total of 4

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morethansky · 1 month

Text

As promised, my thoughts on Tech's fate.

If you think they changed their minds about revealing Tech to be alive, you might not want to read this. I'm not trying to debate or dissuade anyone; this is just my personal take.

Also, please be forewarned that this is quite Hunter critical. I love to write the man, but god, he’s so bad for my blood pressure.

This is still such a hard thing for me to talk about. To be honest, I ducked out of the TBB fandom between the time when i finished “i keep what i can of you” and S3 started because it felt like I couldn’t say what I thought without either hurting the people who thought Tech was dead and were traumatized or inciting the wrath of those believed he was alive, some of whom got so haughty and/or oddly hostile whenever any other possibilities were stated in their vicinity. It seems that after I left, the opposite started happening too? The hellish fandom ouroboros.

Anyway, so here are my unfiltered thoughts, because I might explode if I don't write them down. After I watched “Plan 99,” I thought Tech was dead, and I was extremely traumatized and hysterical about it. I remember that night I couldn’t sleep, and I stayed up till morning trying to process the sense of betrayal I felt and figure out what to do with the sweet little WIP I had been working on, which was about Tech and Wrecker facing the concept of death for the first time. (I have now rewritten it to be much darker but for Tech to live, and as CX-2, so I hope that proves I mean well with this post.)

Because it’s me and it’s media, I was not only traumatized but also furious. To be frank, I’m not usually this deeply affected by character deaths. I have written a lot of major character death fics and grief/mourning is a component of like 60 percent of my writing. In fact, when character deaths are done well, I think they’re fantastic. The worthy, well-done ones can make the characters shine even more brightly.

That is not the case here. Tech dies for literally nothing. The protagonists don’t achieve anything at all from it besides returning to square one, less a member. They don’t find the coordinates to Tantiss. They don’t find anything about who Hemlock is or what the Advanced Science Division does. They don’t overhear any vital intel from the meeting with all the Imperial bigwigs. They don’t gain any insight from Saw. They don’t even find out whether Crosshair was actually in captivity and whether his saying Plan 88 was him laying a trap for them or not.

And that is some of the worst messaging I’ve ever seen in a Y-7 American action cartoon. And believe me, I’ve watched a lot of them.

Allow me to beat the dead horse one last time. Finally, after two entire seasons of the show, a member of the main cast is like, “Hey, remember how Crosshair used to be one of us? Even if he kind of sucks, shouldn’t we help him? He did just try to warn us.” And I was ECSTATIC. Didn’t expect the autistic character to be the one to be like, no, fuck you, we should do the right thing no matter the risk (autistic characters are so often morally gray and it’s so frustrating), but I loved it so much! That’s me!!

…And then he literally dies because he wanted to do the right thing. Hunter, the character who does not want to help people, who rejects the idea of going to Eriadu and has to be convinced otherwise, IS PROVEN CORRECT. What the ever-loving fuck is that messaging? That’s right, kids—if you selflessly try to help other people, you’ll be killed. So maybe don’t bother, actually. And this show just underlines that message over and over again! The only people who matter are those you consider family. Everyone else can rot. In fact, people who are willing to risk their lives to help people are foolish and idealistic. The things Hunter says to Echo are repeatedly so fucked up ("When will it be enough?" Dude wtf???), and it's nuts that the show doesn't offer Hunter's narrow-minded perspective as a contrast to Echo's determination to do the right thing—it offers Echo as a contrast to Hunter's motivations to retire (which we understand because when the two of them split up, we follow Hunter instead of Echo—and not even in addition to Echo! He only shows up again because he's visiting Hunter's story!).

That’s straight-up American conservative ideology. I will never not be pissed at them for making the fucking deuteragonist—and a clone character at that—like that. And in Star Wars! The franchise that is overwhelmingly and consistently about fighting fascists! Made by the company founded and based in the Bay Area, the most progressive region of the country!!!

To be frank, I almost turned the TV off right then. But I thought, okay…a horrible way to get to it, but…maybe now is the moment? Maybe now they’ll finally join Echo and Rex, and be super determined to find Tantiss and Crosshair and the many other clones whose designations were on the roster—to complete the mission that Tech so passionately insisted on before he sacrificed himself.

BUT NO! Hunter immediately pressures Omega into going to Pabu. And why wouldn’t he? The narrative proved him right! By trying to do the right thing, Tech died. So we’ll just go back to ignoring the suffering of countless beings across the galaxy, including our own kind. Millions of straight-up metaphorical versions of us. Cool.

And then Omega gets captured. So because Tech wants to do the right thing, he dies, and because Omega agrees with him, she gets taken away. And then suddenly Hunter puts away Pabu entirely and becomes super gung-ho about finding her. Which is just…why did they write him like this. Why did they even have the conversation about Pabu?? Leaving it out would have made Hunter's motivations flow so much better. Because by introducing that, they invite the crucial question: Why was that what it took for him to stop running but losing Crosshair and Tech didn’t??? Because he only cares about this one child's well-being and it's his single motivation as a character???

A contingent of Crosshair fans have seemed to vocally dislike Hunter from the start because he left Crosshair, and I’m like no, you don’t understand. It’s not about the character, it’s about the writing. In some cases, it does end up being the character rather than the writing, and you can usually tell because the writing condemns that in the character. Not here though! Hunter's decisions throughout the show are celebrated by it. And Hunter gets his way, as we see now with them retiring on Pabu and ignoring the fight even as "the Rebellion needs pilots now more than ever." Thank god the finale at least posited that Echo was also right, which is kind of like the bare minimum they could've done in that regard.

So Tech’s death hit me particularly hard because it felt like just a waste of two entire episodes, a waste of an enjoyable character they had just given some really poignant depth, and a waste of the chance to give Hunter the character development I was desperate for—and also like a betrayal, a slap in the face, because it was like the show was saying that heroes are stupid, that Tech was foolish for wanting to do the right thing. Which is nuts given the rest of the SW animated oeuvre. And is fucking hurtful. And bad for kids.

So when the theories about Tech’s survival started floating around that night, I thought, okay, yeah, maybe this was such a stupid death and waste of screen time because it’s to set up something really cool. I could get behind that, even if the entire setup would still be faulty and honestly kind of repulsive to me.

I engulfed everyone’s theories in those weeks I spent mourning, desperate to be convinced—but as much as I wanted to believe there was a plan at work, I just couldn’t buy it 100 percent because…would the people who wrote this awful arc, and who made all the oddest choices possible at any given time throughout both seasons thus far, really intend to set up and execute something so well thought out and complex?

Of course not. People kept being like, “We have to trust the writers. They have a grand plan. They wouldn’t just throw away Tech. It would be ableist, and that’s why he’s not dead.” Like??? The show was already ableist! One of the main characters is disabled and his being disabled is specifically relevant to why he’s even in this squad and in this show—and it’s never remotely discussed! The closest is the most oblique reference ever to how Echo doesn't like to be alone. That's it. Just because they actually managed to write this wonderful moment about Tech being autistic doesn’t mean their track record was suddenly irrelevant! Killing off their neurodivergent character is exactly the kind of ableist shit they would do! And see now: Crosshair's hand. Also Echo suddenly having a hand after not having one for so long and it being completely untouched upon. It's par for the course!

So the Tech Lives theories all hinged on the writing being really clever, but I just. Already hated so much of the writing, and it felt way more likely that they were just continuing to be bad writers and continuing to go with the poorer plot choice option every single time they had the opportunity to go a direction that would be thought provoking and emotionally affecting.

I felt very much and very sadly proven right when the season started, and we got no mention of Tech being dead until the FIFTH episode. The Batch never talked about Crosshair and why he tried to kill them, so I guess why would they talk about Tech dying, sigh. And it was so bizarre how people were arguing that Omega and Crosshair's little exchange about Tech was super touching and gave us everything we needed. It absolutely did not! The fact that we couldn't agree on whether Crosshair even knew tells you everything you need to know about the wacky writing choices! Why was it so vague?? They literally could have added one word:

Crosshair: Did they teach you plan 72? Omega: Mm-hmm. Tech had me memorize all the plans, before... Crosshair: Of course he did.

On that note, I began to feel uneasy about the fandom again, because it started feeling like an echo chamber, and I was worried everyone was getting too hyped about something that might not happen, and even if it did, might end up being some kind of poorly done fanservice. I started seeing a lot of defensive posts being like, “Well, the reason they’re not mentioning Tech is because he’s not dead, and you’re an idiot, unlike me, if you’re falling for their sneaky tricks.”

Like??? The prevalence of ride-or-die sentiments like that started making me feel like I was losing my grip on reality and watching a completely different show from everyone else. Wouldn’t the dramatic effect of Tech being alive be strengthened by the characters all mourning him, thus making us mourn him, thus making the plot twist that he’s alive even more effective?? Wouldn't the characters being shown to be affected by his death instead of just ignoring it be the most promising sign of his impending return?

To me, the characters not mourning Tech meant that the writers had put him aside and moved on (which is, again, terrible writing because it doesn’t give the viewers the space to grieve and then move on, and it makes the characters feel terribly heartless, which, well. At least they were consistent). And that blasé moving on made the possibility of him being dead WAY more likely to me. Of course they would kill their neurodivergent character and then just all but pretend it didn't happen. Of course they would act as if he had just been a convenient plot device! Of course they would only bring him up and act like they missed him when he wasn't there to miraculously do the characters' work for them and the writers' work for them! Fuck that so hard.

So then “Infiltration” and “Extraction” were a big surprise! I was like, oh, huh, guess I was totally wrong and they’re really doing it, wow. Okay, let’s see if they can actually pull it off. I liked the writing a lot better this season, so it felt more plausible that they were finally getting down to business. The fact that the clues felt so heavy handed was kind of weird to me, and I complained a lot about there not being red herrings, but I love a good Came Back Wrong story, so I was willing to believe I had been too pessimistic and cynical, as I often am.

After “Bad Territory” and “The Harbinger,” however, I started doubting it again. Fitting both this M-count mystery that had already taken up so much screen time plus a Tech Lives mystery just felt like a lot of ground to cover, and this was the show that couldn’t even seem to fit more than five seconds of the main characters being sad about the death of their squad mate. Did they really have what it would take to pace it?

Of course not!!!

After “Point of No Return,” I started to feel like if they did bring Tech back, it would be at the cost of it being done poorly. And to me, for his purported death AND his resurrection to be badly written would be way worse than just the former. And the draw of the whole Winter Soldier deal is the fallout; the guilt and doubt the characters harbor; the way they have to reckon with the fact that even if their loved one is back, they will never be the same again, because they did die in a way—and the less time allotted after a reveal like that, the fewer of those key things there would be, which would just make it feel so tacked on for cheap shock value and social media chatter. Especially because there had been so little buildup to such a thing at the beginning of the season. These writers' abilities are just not remotely close to Ed Brubaker's, y'all.

Then Rampart being introduced afterward felt like the death knell (oop) because it was a new plot thread they would need to wrap up by the end. But the Clone X thread was still dangling, so I felt like it wasn’t out of the question. But I guess after my complaints about the Tech connections being too obvious and there needing to be more red herrings, it turned out that the Tech connections themselves were the red herrings.

Although I feel like that's probably even giving the writers too much credit. I don't know if I really believe they were trying to mislead us. I feel like they just clumsily ended up doing things that coincided with the Tech Lives theories. Like I honestly wouldn't be surprised if when they used "domicile" it was completely without realizing they had previously had Tech say it and that this would lead to the viewers drawing an erroneous conclusion. They probably just wanted CX-2 to say something fancy and mysterious tbh, and the same words tend to float in writers' minds. Rip us.

I guess now I understand what I could never work out—if CX-2 was Tech, then why did he so specifically use rifles like Crosshair does and so proficiently, i.e. specifically better than Crosshair did? Why wouldn't he dual wield hand blasters?

Also, although I was in some ways relieved that at least they didn't write a bad resurrection for Tech, and there's absolutely no way it wouldn't have been shit if it'd just been shoved anywhere in the last three episodes, all this is not to say the Clone X concept didn't end up being super hamfisted as well. Just the fact that there are other Clone X types with different weapons and uniforms makes the concept even more confusing. Clearly these guys were meant to mirror the Batch, but then why did all the ones we encountered before CX-2 wear the same uniform as him?? Did they sort the clones into categories of which Clone X they would be? It would actually be cool if the point was to sow fear in the galaxy because it would seem like the person in the CX-2 suit was undefeatable, especially because they were completely covered and their build would be the same every time. But that would be too cool and coherent for this show, sigh.

Also, was Hemlock project managing them, or was Scorch? Neither really makes sense, but who was sending them after Rex's rebel cell? Was there a military higher-up giving the Advanced Science Division that directive? Why did CX-2 and the one that Rex's cell captured hate Crosshair so much? Why the fuck did CX-2 cut off his hand???

Anyway. I could go on forever, but I think at the end of the day, we all read too much into it because we are just collectively better writers than the writers are tbh. Sadly, a classic fandom experience. I guess what ultimately saved me the most from heartbreak and allowed me to earnestly enjoy the finale was that I had already spent a year believing Tech had died and suffered through my grief (by, you guessed it, writing a grief/mourning fic), and I just couldn’t shake the feeling that there was no way these writers could pull off something so emotional and complex. I swear I didn’t actually want to be right!

I think if nothing else, one thing we can all agree on is that Tech surviving could’ve been one kickass story, and it was a hell of a missed opportunity.

#the bad batch spoilers #i'm also mad about tech but i think it's for a different reason than a lot of folks #okay no more meta for at least another week omg #i need to do some actual writing instead of using my brainpower to shout into the void #amph talks #tbb finale #plan 99

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1moremilgram-enjoyer · 8 months

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Kazui T1 Cover - Yowamushi Montblanc

How many of these until you're all tired of it? Well, we still have twelve to go after this one, so. Today's cover analysis focuses on Kazui's Yowamushi Montblanc! Very pretty souding song!

I can't bring myself to hope for it to be true As I'm still not strong enough In our contract meeting Once again I will fall into you Each and every of my pondering Translates into only so many words I loved you, but it's become too ponderous Is that all there is to it?

(Translation)

The singer of this song has romantic feelings towards another person, but they struggle to confess to them. They don't think they're strong or brave enough to do it, so they 'can't bring themselves to hope.' Every time they meet, the singer falls in love all over again, but their thoughts (ponderings) aren't fully expressed (only so many words), so their love becomes too heavy to bear (ponderous = heavy). In particular, they're afraid of the other person's reaction to those feelings, imagining that they will react with disdain.

"You should just die this very moment"

Thus, Yowamushi Montblanc is about a person who is too afraid to reveal their own feelings, with 'yowamushi' meaning 'coward.'

...

Yep! That's Kazui! Alright, end post everyone, take care!

...

Okay fine I'll talk about it a bit more.

[Cat] All those things I wanna do that I can’t say out loud I gotta keep it inside and act The beating of this heart… see… it’s no longer about good and bad… it isn’t I realize the futility, but I still can’t help but dream

Yeah, honestly, if you had told me Yowamushi Montblanc was Kazui's Trial 3 song I would not have batted an eye. The theme of being too afraid to reveal his own feelings is extremely prevalent in Kazui's story, regardless of what those feelings exactly are.

(gay gay homosexual gay)

Hell, the guy even straight up calls himself a coward in half.

[half] So many things I wish I hadn't known, I'm just a coward

In the song, the singer hides their feelings until they start drifting away from their love interest.

Who was it that I loved? I can't remember despite all that time I spent Now it's just fading away, out of my sight Although I'm sure it's still somewhere right here I can just forget about it it will disappear my own reflection [...] Yes, you are in my thoughts hanging in the air but you are slowly fading away, completely And I can no longer tell you anything

This vaguely fits the lyrics of half, which commonly reference drifting away due to indecision and fear. Who Kazui is talking to in half is honestly a pretty good question, but for our purposes, it works particularly well if we assume he's singing to the bartender.

[half] Only if your heart would change but that’s not possible Please tell me what I should do, my heart will float away and disappear

Finally, the titular Montblanc is referenced in this lyric:

It's fine for it to be true since I can't go back Or I will get scared again This mont blanc is so sweet I want to drown in its sweetness with my bare feet

The 'sweetness' likely refers to the idea of a relationship with the love interest, since the video has a lot of sweets as imagery of the singer's desires. And the snow of the mont blanc would be the sugar.

So 'scaling up the sweet montblanc with bare feet' would be revealing their feelings to enter a relationship and thereby taking in the sweetness unfiltered. The imagery of scaling a mountain makes it clear it would be demanding, but since the singer enjoys touching the snow with bare feet (touching the 'sweetness'), they would enjoy the process of putting effort into the relationship. Does that make sense? Again, it's not too hard to relate this to Kazui wanting to reveal his true feelings as well.

However, there's a bit more symbolism if you want to go into 'is this even intentional' territory, which I do. The mountain known as Montblanc is the highest mountain in the Alps and in all of western Europe, which again shows how demanding it would be to enter the relationship. However, the most common route up the mountain, the Goûter Route, is "simple and requires few technical abilities, but [...] it is also physically demanding, and may be totally exhausting to those with limited athletic ability." It's ranked PD, which I'm sure we're all aware is the second lowest difficulty for climbing mountains; not effortless, but very doable. Therefore, it is something most people can do without much difficulty, though naturally some people will struggle more due to physical limitations.

This makes sense in the context of the song, where scaling the mountain means engaging in a relationship. Society says being in a relationship is something most people should be able to do without much difficulty, but the protagonist does struggle with. There are several societal issues that converge in that point, but that's the main idea; the singer might feel insecure that they can't fulfill societal expectations.

...

Yep! That's him!

(T1) Q3: If you were allowed to do anything, what would you want to do? K: I'd like to live righteously.

(T1) Q4: Do you think that your family is proud of you? K: No. They must find me embarrassing.

Plus other stuff like this. Again, doubt I have to explain much further, Kazui's struggles to conform to expectations is another of his main character themes. One he shares with his prisoner pair partner, 08, who shall not be named lest I accidentally derail the entire post talking about her.

Anyways, that was that for Yowamushi Montblanc! Take care!

#milgram #kazui mukuhara #yowamushi montblanc cover #whole tag's burning talking about double #and here i am #vibing with my boy kazui

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heartbrkr · 1 year

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make you feel alright

SUMMARY You weren’t looking, but you’ve found a gap in the clouds.

PAIRING choi soobin x gender neutral!reader

GENRE established relationship, slight hurt/comfort

WORD COUNT 1k

WARNINGS none

AUTHOR’S NOTE i'm incredibly love deprived i need a soobin in my life. this is very self-indulgent, lowkey a rant, and inspired by yellow days’s gap in the clouds. enjoy!

MASTERLIST | REQUESTS: OPEN!

You have a tendency to keep a nonchalant front, including around the people you can comfortably call good company. It is as it seems: a coping mechanism because of all the previous unpleasant experiences you’ve encountered throughout your lifetime. These walls have been around ever since you were young, but you’ve learned to make peace with them, knowing that those you trust the most could suddenly leave you high and dry after they think you no longer benefit them. You’ve learned to see the negative aspects of people before getting to know them, expecting them to walk all over you. That’s why you could only call a handful of people your friends; it’s better to be safe than to be sorry. But again, you’re still wary. The only person you’ve really, really opened up to about all this is your current boyfriend, Soobin.

He knows that you don’t purposefully shut yourself out, distance yourself if you feel you’ve overshared enough for the week, get into one-sided conflicts with friends (and not confronting them about it because according to you, “if they wanted to know how I feel, they would”), and the like too many to list. It’s become second nature to you, and he’s been patient enough to learn how it works, how your mind works.

“I like being around you. I like being with you.” When Soobin heard your mumble from the sofa where your figure was slouched, he didn’t know how to process these words. Mainly because they made his heart feel something he couldn’t name; all he knows is that his heart is rushing with overflowing love for you. It didn’t help that the article of clothing that adorned your torso was one of his sweaters.

“Yeah?” As he walks back to you with the water he grabbed from the kitchen, you continue your unfiltered, yet endearing chatter. You accept the glass he held out to you with a grateful nod.

“Your presence… you know when the sun peeks through the gap in the clouds?” He’s silent after your confession, not wanting to disrupt your train of thought, but he nods. It takes a lot for a person to acceptingly experience vulnerability, especially if it is something they resent. You take a sip of your water, gently putting it down on the glass table making sure it doesn’t spill before carrying on.

“It’s like that. Ever since you’ve been around, things feel lighter and brighter. I love how you make me feel.”

”The first time we met, though I believe to this day you are the most enchanting being I have ever laid my eyes on, my intention was never to get romantically involved. But I knew I wanted you in my life for the rest of my time somehow.” At this point, your hands have seeked out his and the sight is what your eyes chose to rest on. Your fingers lightly scrape over the surface of the bracelet Soobin is wearing; you bought and gave it to him after you received your first paycheck. It was a good day.

You aren’t seeing how Soobin’s attention is so focused on you. Anyone could hypothesize that he’s hypnotized solely by your existence. You tell him that all the good in the world is stored in him, especially his eyes and smile. He teasingly begs to differ every single time, but you’re just fortunate you’re at the receiving end of his loving sight and adoring grin.

“But I fear that one day, your heart stops yearning for what I offer you, that you leave me with the mark of you and I have to live through everyday from then on without you. Me, personally, I’m not saying you will, but my mind’s conditioned me to think that the possibility is always there.”

There’s a beat of silence so that Soobin could absorb what you dumped on him, but he doesn’t really see it that way. He’s forever thankful that you trust him enough to talk about these things with him, knowing how closed off you are.

You speak up again, hoping that he’s had enough time to process what you’ve told him, “thank you for caring. I’m sorry if I’m ever too much.” You finally built up the courage to divert your eyes to him, your hands still fiddling his own.

In classic Soobin fashion, he tilts his head slightly at your statement with a pout and you want to tackle and squish him for it. You held back, deciding that there’ll be proper times to release your cute aggression on him.

“Why should you thank me for that?”

“You know.” Of course he does, he just wants to hear you say it. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

He slowly lets go of your hands, which results in you looking at him aloofly, and reaches out to engulf you mellowly, “don’t be afraid.”

You’re annoyed because your eyes start to water and you can’t control them. Your one hand continues to rest on Soobin’s back, while the other weakly hits his head.

“My intention wasn’t to cry today.” You complain, your statement muffled by his shirt. He chuckles a little too happily for your liking, so you smack him again.

The gentle flutter of the electric fan, the humming of the refrigerator, the beating of each other's hearts, the occasional leaks of the kitchen faucet that has yet to be repaired; all these build up the serenity that settles in Soobin’s home.

“You make me feel alright, I hope I do the same for you.”

And with perfect timing, the warm glow of the sunset embellishes the living room, though it isn’t as warm as the embrace you’re in. Soobin hugs you tighter than he did a minute ago; it’s almost like he’s afraid to lose you (he is), even if there isn’t any distance left to close. It was enough to make you doubt your own overthinking. “You do. If our paths didn’t cross when they did, I would’ve lost my mind.”

Everything is temporary, but each moment you spend with Soobin makes you forget that.

#soobin x reader #choi soobin x reader #soobin x you #soobin x y/n #txt x reader #tomorrow by together x reader #soobin oneshot #soobin imagine #txt oneshot #tomorrow by together imagine #soobin x gender neutral reader #soobin x gn reader #soobin fluff #soobin hurt/comfort #txt #tomorrow by together

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missnancywritesfanfic · 11 months

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A Good Enough Place

Character: Wanderer(Scaramouche) x Reader

Contains: High-Functioning Depressed Reader, light angst/extreme comfort, self-indulgent, mentions of suicide/suicidal thoughts

A/N: I am at a low rn and need my darling man 💗 No, I did not edit

You'd learned about Wanderer through the akademiya, you're new to the institute and happened to work on a mutual project that went on for a number of months. He wasn't particularly mean, or arrogant as people say. Okay, maybe a little arrogant...but despite his blatant transparency, you found it refreshing. In fact, you had a similar effect on him as well.

His insults never seemed to phase you. He would call out your lax attitude, your weird unfiltered thoughts (few of them quite morbid), or even moments of laziness. You threw it right back at him, not bothering with surface level insults (those are for when you're both in a better mood), his contradictory behaviour is his most obvious trait.

For someone who despises humanity, he tolerated them, lived with them, even made something akin to friends with a few. It was cute. You empathized. You didn't have any particular love for humanity either, you're not sure when it happened but a barrier was set up between you and the rest of the world. Despite actively participating in the social circles of Sumeru, you couldn't help but feel alien.

He noticed it about you. The distant look in your eye whenever you were having a conversation, like you weren't present despite all your efforts. But just like always, you responded with a shrug and a smile, "Yeah, I guess I do that sometimes. Not sure why, feels comfortable."

Does it? Being so disconnected from reality?

He quickly picked up on how frequently it would occur. Sometimes, even outside of conversation, he'll catch you in your own little world. In a corner alone studying or having a walk and listening to music. Not quite your natural state, but getting closer, because once someone catches your attention the mask goes back on.

The day he found out about your condition, it was late when he was leaving the Akademiya grounds. He saw you completely alone near the railing. And you were completely still, a vacant look on your face.

He didn't feel the need to disturb your peace, until tears welled up in your eyes and you keeled over, hiding behind the railing the fetal position. Your once calm expression suddenly distorted into horror in and agony. You're suppressing the shiver in your body as you choke back a sob.

His body moves before he can process what's happening. He suddenly finds himself by your side, crouched down to your height, a hand on your back. You sniffle and try wiping your tears away, already trying to piece that facade back together.

"No no, I'm fine. No worries!" You choke out a laugh. "I was just admiring the view and thinking about how pretty everything looked, you know?"

You weren't lying. He knew you weren't. But that didn't stop the unease stirring in his chest. He led you someplace private so that you calm down, but it did take time until you.

Enough for him to make tea for the two of you. The entire time, after your breakdown, you were completely silent. Running a strategy in your mind on how you could convince him it wasn't what it looked like. He didn't need to worry or have any reason to believe you were less than functional.

Unfortunately for you, he didn't even give you a chance.

"I'm only going to ask once, and know that I'll never ask again if you try weasling your way out of this. What were you doing?"

"I already told you. It was nothing."

You didn't even hesitate. You looked him in the eye from across the table and he could clearly see, you were already trying to cut yourself from this conversation.

"You balling your eyes out isn't nothing. In fact, some would say that's not normal."

"I get emotional sometimes." You snap back. "Is it really that surprising?"

He doesn't respond. He takes a sip of his tea. You knew he didn't believe you for a second. This isn't working.

"What do you want me to say?"

This isn't working at all.

"I was just looking at the view. It was pretty and I was thinking, Hey how amazing would it be to be bird and fly!"

How ridiculous. The thought crossed both your minds. He silently watched as you suddenly became discontent with your own words. You scowl and cover your eyes, taking a deep breath and contemplating. You push your hair back, tears brimming as you struggled to speak.

"Then I just went somewhere else, one thought led to another, I realized how far the ground was from thar balcony...and I thought..."

Your lip quivers. You avert your eyes. You feel disgusted at the sense of relief that accomponied your words.

"How great would it be if I could be literally anything else but this right now..."

Ah. So that's it. He sets his cup back down, doing his best not to grip it too tight.

"So yeah, that's all it was. Congrats, you happy now?"

Were you expecting him to say yes? You scowled when he looked offended at your question, no matter how bitter it was. He took it to heart.

"You think I'd be happy at the prospect of you killing yourself? You must think quite lowly of me."

You opened your mouth to snap at him, but shut it just quickly. You both sit in silence. He leans on the table, tapping at the wood before sighing.

"Are you always like this?"

"Sometimes." You mumble. "When I'm not thinking about it...But when I do?" You chuckle, staring at your blurry reflection in your tea cup."It's very easy to believe that life's a lie, so am I, and maybe I should no longer participate."

You continue.

"I don't want to die. I'm just finding it progressively harder to convince myself otherwise. Even when deep down, I know I want to live."

He watches you slowly raise the cup to your mouth before giving up halfway and setting it back down. You couldn't stomach consuming anything right now.

"Do you mind not telling anybody about this? Last thing I wanna deal with is a bunch of counsellors and inspirational posters, it gets really annoying real quick."

"I don't see much of a reason to hide it. Not like the akademiya doesn't have it's fair share of scholars on the brink of ruin."

You shoot him a glare.

"Would you be comfortable with me airing out your dirty laundry? Or do you just get a kick out of hurting people you care about?"

"That implies I care about you."

You wordlessly eye the freshly made tea set before you both. Then you give him as questioning look, waiting for him to give an excuse as to why that isn't the case.

You weren't blind and neither was he. The Wanderer was not known to be this attentive to strangers, let alons acquantances. The only other exceptions were Kusanali and The Traveler.

"What a pain..." He groans and takes your untouched tea for himself. "Why not help you move past this?"

You raise an eyebrow. He casually sips your tea.

"You don't have a reason to live, right? We'll just have to find it. Who knows, maybe you have a use in this world. Uncovering that may help you start to feel purpose again."

"Fuck's sake, I don't want to be useful, I just want to be happy again. Is that really so much to ask?"

This is the first time he'd seen you truly angry. Even if it was for a split second, the ire you expressed was raw and undeniably intruiging. Why didn't you show this more? It couldn't possibly be so bad for you to exist in such an emotional state.

His eyes shift to his vision. It still let off a vibrant turquoise glow. A swirl of energy nestled deep inside, which he coveted dearly.

Not too long ago, he'd wanted nothing but to purge all the emotions he'd held onto for centuries. The agony his existence had brought him felt like some sick byproduct, and insisted it be shed away to become something worth greatness. Worth living.

As trivial as your troubles may seem, maybe it wasn't that different from his desire to be a true god. Or rather, there was no difference between his wish to Irminsul and your wish being expressed to him.

"You're asking the wrong guy. But I suppose I've yet to find any semblance of true peace, even with a purpose given to me."

You silently reach out and brush against his free hand. He doesn't stop you from tracing the joints of his hand. You were extremely delicate. A feather's touch and gentle look as you took in the details.

He was cold.

But you didn't have the strength to move away. You're so tired of the barrier between you and the rest of the world. You instead slide your hand fully into his.

"Do you think I'm being stupid?"

"All the time." He smiles. Barely. But it's there. "But does it really matter what I think? If you're the one walking the path?"

His words click in your mind. If you want happiness, focus on finding it, regardless of what others wish. He really didn't mind the thoughts plaguing you, he wasn't perfect with his words but you knew they were genuine. It made you feel a bit warmer inside.

Obviously, easier said than done but...having the reassurance. It helped.

"Guess not..." You squeeze his hand. "Could you be there with me? Just for a little while."

"I can't promise to be by your side forever. Eventually our paths may split apart. But I guess until then, I'll see what I can do.

You don't smile when he squeezes your hand back. You bite it back along with your tears.

"That's good enough."

#reader insert #genshin impact #fluff #genshin impact wanderer #genshin x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #depressive episode #depression #comfort #angst #can be read as platonic or romantic

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whentherewerebicycles · 7 months

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ugh I am really struggling with a thing with a former student/mentee of mine. in the week or two of the post-hamas attack aftermath I posted something on instagram that was basically like, i feel an obligation to be an informed global citizen and believe me I read/think about/despair over the news every day but I also think it’s ok to really viscerally hate “doing politics” on social media, where complex, centuries-old geopolitical and cultural conflicts get reduced to a sensationalized infographic some teenager designed on canva last night. at the time I was watching people spread rampant misinformation about the hospital explosion when we had zero conclusive information, and had also just heard jon favreau talking about research indicating that something like 80% of the images and videos people were sharing on social media weren’t actually FROM the current conflict or couldn’t be verified as real. and idk I also have some private thoughts about how american leftists in particular really glom onto this issue because we perceive israelis as ‘white people’ and palestinians as people of color and we get to feel like we are exorcising our own country’s racial demons by advocating for the expulsion of the israeli people from land that many of them actually have deep historical ties to and at least a semi-legitimate cultural and religious claim to inhabiting.

to be clear I think the current israeli government is pretty much your trump-inspired shitty/evil right-wing militaristic populist movement and I feel like their response has squandered every single ounce of empathy garnered by the hamas attacks!! but idk I guess what I want to carve out space for is like, the right to say I AM NOT AN EXPERT HERE. I DO NOT HAVE DEEP ENOUGH KNOWLEDGE TO FULLY UNDERSTAND THE ROOTS OF THIS CONFLICT. I WORRY ABOUT SPREADING DANGEROUS MISINFORMATION IN BOTH DIRECTIONS IF I SHARE UNVERIFIED SOURCES OR REDUCTIVE TAKES. ALSO I AM A PRIVATE CITIZEN AND I DO NOT HAVE A “PLATFORM” JUST BECAUSE I HAVE A SOCIAL MEDIA ACCOUNT. I RESERVE THE RIGHT TO BE CONFUSED, TO NOT PASS SNAP JUDGMENTS ON RAPIDLY EVOLVING INTERNATIONAL INCIDENTS, AND TO ENGAGE IN POLITICS BY MEANS OTHER THAN SOCIAL MEDIA POSTING. but idk this former student, who I had a really good relationship with for many years, has just come after me in my DMs and keeps sending me posts implying that anyone who is not furiously posting right now is pro-Palestinian genocide, etc etc, and meanwhile she is posting hundreds of unverified stories a day from Arabic-language sources that aren’t just like, anti-Zionist but are actively pro-Hamas, actively denying that the attacks on Israel happened, and actively calling for the immediate and violent expulsion of all Jews from the area. dude idk she’s not my student anymore so I think I’m just going to disengage/not respond and continue staying off insta because it sucks out there!! but it sucks!

I also just refuse to experience a war via unfiltered social media posts again. I did that for a month or two at the start of the ukraine invasion and I can’t unsee some of the stuff I saw on telegram. I don’t actually think any of us have a moral obligation to watch or share a 24/7 feed of graphic images of maimed corpses and crying children. I can’t make the violence STOP by watching that content and I also don’t believe that ravenously consuming the most terrible moments of people’s lives is a form of meaningful political solidarity. WHATEVER as you can see I still feel super conflicted about how to feel about all of this but I also have to remind myself that IT’S NOT NORMAL to click through my stories or scroll down my feed alternating between liking people’s cat photos and watching people dying half a world away. we were NOT BUILT to process world-historical events this way and it is OKAY to opt out of watching a livestream of human suffering you are personally powerless to do anything about.

#I think it is fine to post a lot about an issue you are passionate about! she is clearly passionate about this!#but I hate that the active-posting crowd often acts like people who don’t do exactly the same thing are evil complicit or indifferent #I am so distressed about the state of the world right now!!!!#but I just don’t want to do politics like that it makes me feel so much worse and often makes me feel more powerless

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bea-ce · 1 year

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i weep and say goodnight love

pairing: kaeya x reader

genre: angst, no comfort.

summary: everything has a price, including happiness. it just happens that you’re the price kaeya has to pay in the end.

word count: 2.0k

notes: was listening to the beastars ost when wolf and rabbit started playing in the background and thought ‘this soundtrack sounds so bittersweet, i should write something for my beloved kaeya!’

warnings: major character death (you die), genshin lore spoilers (i think? its vague (mainly kaeya and khaenriah)), mentions of blood, injuries, slight descriptions of bodily injuries, mentions of dead bodies, apocalyptic (mondstadt is destroyed)

Life had been good for too long, Kaeya had realized too late.

He should've known by now that good things didn't come to him without a price. He had been happy for too long, felt the joys of being in love with you for so long that the burden he had carried in his heavy heart had been long forgotten.

Kaeya's worries of being undeserving of love- worries of being too much of a sinner to be deserving of happiness had been processed and worked through with you.

And as he watches the city of freedom burn down to ashes, the very land he had grown up in break apart he is reminded all over again how everything has a price; especially his happiness.

He watches the world crumble before him, panic shaking him to the very core of not being able to find you in the city that's burning down and experiencing its very own inferno.

Kaeya's eyes are heavy, his entire body aching from the exhaustion of his search—but still with a spark of panic in his eyes as he desperately tries to find you. He has to find you; he knows he has to.

"Gods, please— I know I haven't done much right, but let me have this," he prays, the words raw and unfiltered and desperate. He had never once in his life turned to the Gods for a favor- they had never answered him before when he was at his lowest, why would they now? But he can’t help but to cry out to any deity that might be out there, listening to mere mortals' pleas, even though he knows deep down that no one will answer his cries.

The once lively streets of Mondstadt have death hovering above it. The streets have that iron smell to it as the sky has turned red along with the streets. The beautifully built houses have fallen apart; some having collapsed and others burnt to the ground.

Kaeya passes by several limp bodies, none of them you, which doesn’t make Kaeya stop in his tracks. But the sight makes something inside him drop to the depths of his stomach. A horrible, bitter feeling knowing he had no one else to blame but himself for this.

His pace is quick- the cavalry captain that would usually stroll down the streets of Mondstadt to escape work for a little longer with the charming smile plastered on his face that would have anyone swooned, now rendered to an emotional mess and looking disheveled more so than what he’d ever normally allow.

His pace never falters as he continues rushing through the streets, each limp body he passes filling more dread within him at the thought that the next body he’ll pass by might be yours.

It’s not until his eyes lands on a figure that has the same attributes just like you, sitting against a wall, moving. Alive.

Kaeya's heart leaps into his throat immediately. He doesn't hesitate, running over to your side—but even as his body is filled with a newfound relief and excitement, his brain manages to catch on. It's like a splash of cold water to the face, and Kaeya feels the light of his soul flicker.

You don't look like yourself. You're not standing tall and proud in the face of adversity, smiling softly despite your wounds. When he reaches your side, Kaeya takes a moment to study you— and then the light in his soul disappears entirely.

There’s a huge gash on the side of your stomach, your once beautiful attire now ruined by the dark red paint called blood coating your lower torso. Despite having your life drained out for each moment that passes the sight of a very distraught Kaeya forces you to greet him with your signature loving smile, reserved just for him, albeit it takes a lot out of you just to tug the corner of your lips upwards.

Any lingering hope, any fool's hope Kaeya had that you might survive dissipates entirely. His mouth is dry as he reaches you, but he has no words. Kaeya wants to hold you; to cradle you in his arms, to sing you the song his mother used to sing to him, but it's no use.

"No," he breathes, feeling the tears coming even before your body slumps against him. A sob escapes his lips. The world around him is still and silent, a haze clouding Kaeya's mind. "Please, no."

“Kaeya, it’s okay,” The three words that would usually be said with such comfort and reassurance now barely make their way past your lips. You are so very weak right now, death slamming its fist against the door you’re keeping shut with your entire self to ensure you have just this last, final moment with Kaeya.

Kaeya can only sob harder in response, holding you even tighter.

"No," he whispers, eyes desperate and wide and pleading to any gods who might be listening. "I can't lose you; I won't. You can't leave me, I just... I can't." He clings to your body like a lifeline, afraid that a slight movement will cause your body to crumble into pieces.

"Gods, no, I need you."

“You’re going to be okay,” You try and comfort him with your words before you shakily reach out to him with your trembling hand. Your hand comes up to caress his cheek, letting it rest there and feel his warmth for one final time. It had been a gesture you’d always do whenever you comforted Kaeya during late nights where no facade or half truth would be present.

Kaeya chokes back a sob at the words, feeling how the tears he had been holding back finally fall down his cheeks. His jaw clenches as he tries to keep whatever emotions that are left intact in check to no avail. He feels how all the feelings unravel inside of his chest and it feels as if its him who is dying. Your hand resting gently on Kaeya’s cheek does nothing to ease the pain he feels in his heart. He shakes his head weakly- it feels as if his heart is ripping itself apart.

"I can't be," he says, voice quavering as he leans into your touch. "I can't exist without you, I don't know how. If you're gone, I'm not sure I could go on. I-" But Kaeya stops, choking back a sob. You could feel his heart break at the words he left unspoken. He closes his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. "There has to be some way of keeping you. Please," he whispers. "There has to be some way." His grip tightens. It’s as if he just holds on a little bit longer, maybe the world will show kindness and allow time to slow down and let this moment last for years. He'll spend an eternity holding you in his arms— if only for another moment. Kaeya's heart feels like it could come apart at any second, but he'll do anything, anything to just have a little more time with you.

"You will be," You try again, choking back on your own tears.

You had spent such a long time building up your relationship with the cavalry captain; from getting to know him, to befriending him and letting our friendship blossom into something much more beautiful. It had been difficult getting past his walls made out of the sharpest thorns- having been pushed away by him several times, ranging from having ice cold daggers of words spewn directed to you to being avoided like the plague.

It had taken a long time to get the ice prince to melt his walls for you, and you would never be able to describe the ecstasy and joy you felt the day you finally reached him. The day he finally let you in.

To watch all the work of getting him to open up towards the cold, harsh world he had shut out as a means to protect himself crumble before you along with the man you were deeply in love with rendered the pain in your stomach to nothingness compared to the ache in your heart in having to leave your beloved in the same state you had found him in.

Kaeya continues to cry, trying his best to fight the sobs escaping him.

"I..." Kaeya whispers, his head pressing against your chest. Blood covers the collar of the shirt he wears as a soft moan of pain escapes his lips. You had seen the man cry before: The first time he had opened up to you without twisting the truth by even a bit, the times he’d wake up from another one of his dreadful nightmares that he had yet to tell you about, the times he’d come home intoxicated after spending another night at Angels Share. You've seen Kaeya cry before, but not like this. And now, here he is, his voice shaking and broken. The man of a thousand masks is gone, his eyes empty as they stare at your face. As time passes, Kaeya feels his strength slip away as blood pools on the cobblestones below you.

Kaeya’s grip around you tightens.

It's as though if he is able to hold you tight enough that you’ll live— but the reality is there is nothing Kaeya can do except watch the blood drip down your beautiful limbs, to watch the life fade from your eyes, and to feel his heart shatter.

If only he could take it for you.

You feel how your body grows weaker for each moment that passes, the hand that had been peacefully resting on Kaeya's cheek wavering and falling down to your side. The simple gesture that had been so easy to do before being so incredibly tiring to do in your final moments.

And at that the both of you know, that time's up. Death has opened the door it had been knocking on for the last moments the two of you had spent together.

You’re fighting your own eyelids from shutting all the way, knowing that if they were to shut now they'd never open again.

"..love you..Kaeya.." the words are mumbled out, and Kaeya realizes it's the last time he'll ever hear those words.

Kaeya doesn’t know why it hurts so badly. He should’ve been used to this by now; been prepared for this. He’s lost people before.

So why is it that the heart he thought he had frozen into one solid piece was now feeling as though it were being torn into a thousand pieces, each one of them feeling sharp and prickly like thorns?

"I love you, too" he manages to whisper, leaning up to kiss your cheek; an ache in his chest and a lump in his throat that he will never be able to get rid of.

The last thing he'd expect to fill his mind is how warm you are— but he can't help it. You have always been warm to him, not just physically, but in the way you comforted him, the love you shared. The happiness you'd always given him.

Kaeya weeps as the cold and ruthless world he had grown unaccustomed to welcome him back in its embrace, all the color and liveliness of the world he had grown to become familiar with the help of you, fading away into the same black and white world he had lived in for a majority of his life.

Kaeya has always been good at compartmentalizing, keeping his thoughts at bay, but the last few moments he's spent with you have broken away at that shield, and now, there's nothing left to separate him from an unbearable reality.

In the span of his life, he's already lost his family, his home, and the only person he's ever loved.

Kaeya can feel the life of him slip away from him; his heart fluttering once more, his lungs fighting for a breath.

"I'm... sorry I wasn't there," he manages to croak out. His eyes stare up at yours for the last time.

Kaeya doesn't dare to move from your side, even as the pain seizes his body as death beckons him. He clutches your hand, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"I'll see you in the next life, love."

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin kaeya #kaeya alberich #genshin kaeya x reader #genshin impact kaeya x reader #genshin kaeya alberich #genshin kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #genshin angst #i love making myself hurt #im in pain #fuck i love kaeya so much #quoting my friend in which she questions my love language #this is just my way of being salty over genshin men not being real

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