#this is the total absence of judgement

[xavier616]

"Or married person."

The More I See You || Episode Twenty-Two || Season Four

[miamicommune]

finally onto the discordance storyline and it's filling in so many gaps in my theories

[joycrispy]

I wanna talk about The Angel Who Would Be Crowley.

Because I had a certain set of expectations, which got thoroughly trashed in the first five minutes of S2, and my genuine response is, "Oh, fuck, yup. You're right. That's WAY better."

Looking around at GO fandom, I'm not alone in this. So let's talk about it.

Basically, a lot of people (myself included) believed that he was a high-ranking angel, and therefore as chilly and remote as every other powerful angel we'd seen at that point. We pictured Crowley-To-Be as long-haired, regal and imposing --and the fanart at the time reflected this. I'd link some if Tumblr didn't hate links.

Something like this:

We were collectively drawing on a few things --mostly, Crawly's appearance and general bearing in the Biblical scenes of S1--

--But also scattered hints of his importance, backed up by conspicuous absences in Heaven and a few profound displays of power. That's all better covered elsewhere, so I won't reiterate the arguments here. All I'm saying is: I think our headcanons were justified.

But it turns out he was this:

!!!

With his curly little--!!

And his neat white--!!

IT TURNS OUT, he was an angel who squeaked and squealed when he was happy; who flailed his arms around and made explosion noises with his mouth to explain nebulas; who preened when told his stars were pretty. Furfur, who knew him before the Fall, says:

"You used to jump on me back, little monkey in a waistcoat..."

(The use of a diminutive there, 'little'...oh, that fascinates me.)

In a pretty huge subversion of expectations, we're given these glimpses of an angel who was sweet, and joyful, and heart-meltingly silly.

In sum...an innocent.

(Perhaps innocent to a troubling degree.

We see how he troubles Aziraphale, during their first conversation. He starts looking around and behind them, checking to make sure that no one can HEAR the blithe and reckless things coming out of this angel's mouth. This angel who talks like he's never been reprimanded in his life; like it's never occurred to him that anyone would want to hurt him.

Before the Beginning, Aziraphale understood Heaven better than he did. The danger is plainly occurring to Aziraphale.)

So now, we the viewers are in on a cruel joke that Aziraphale has known all along, which is that this --THIS-- is the angel who--

*checks notes*

--did a million lightyear freestyle dive into a boiling pool of sulphur. For asking questions.

...Imagine you are Aziraphale, and everything inside you wants to believe Heaven are the Good Guys, and God is Good and Everything She does is capital-R Right...and now try to reconcile that. Keep trying. I don't think he ever totally managed it in 6000 years.

All this gets further complicated when we learn that, despite all of the above, we were still right. That sweet excitable babby up there?

He WAS a powerful and high-ranking angel.

That much is explicitly confirmed, with significant evidence that he could have been among the mightiest of archangels...

...Who apparently accosted his fellow angels for piggyback rides. And was remembered millennia later by those (now fallen) angels as something 'little.'

What does that tell us about who he was? Is?

Hell, Aziraphale has known to be wary of the archangels (and the judgements of Heaven in general) since before the Fall even happened. He chooses to believe they are Good; he can't fool himself into thinking they are Safe.

Yet he's absolutely certain that Crowley won't hurt Job's children. Enough to stand in a burning building and say to them, "I can't save you, but don't be afraid. I won't need to."

And what reason does he give?

("I know you."

"You do not know me."

"I know the angel you were.")

What does that tell us about who he was? Is?

("The angel you knew is not me."

But how is Aziraphale supposed to believe that, when he can see him all the time?)

tl;dr --yes, this is better. I love the tragedy of it.

'Innocence died screaming' and all that.

[cooking-with-hailstones]

Statistical analysis of the most popular A:TLA fics on AO3

(All of this is accurate as of May 27 2024)

I like numbers and statistical analysis and for some unfathomable reason I find it calming. So last night I made this spreadsheet!

DISCLAIMER: This is not a judgement of the quality, value, or merits of any of the fics on this list. It's just me being curious about what's popular with the A:TLA fandom on AO3. I was genuinely surprised at some of the results!

Observations and analysis under the cut:

TL:DR, the fandom fucking loves putting Zuko into Situations.

Methodology: I'm including all fics from the first page of results from the most kudos'd, commented, hits, and bookmarks tagged under the Avatar: The Last Airbender (cartoon, 2005) tag on ao3. I am deliberately not including any larger multifandom flash fiction or drabble collections because I don't think they're super relevant. This ended up including 38 fics in total.

I put all the fics into one single spreadsheet in order to compare the differences between fics that are really high on the kudos count but not the hit count, or what has a lot of comments but fewer hits. Basically, I'm throwing a lot of things together to observe what gets engagement and looking at patterns that emerge!

Top 5 most popular fics by hit count:

Salvage - MuffinLance

Fractures - EvieNyx

Embers- Vathara

Towards the Sun - MuffinLance

The Art Of Burning - hella1975

Max: 1,407,170 (Salvage -MuffinLance)

Min: 78,168 (Risking it all - Sreeder)

Average: 349,442

Top 5 most popular fics by kudos count:

Salvage - MuffinLance

The Family You Choose - TunaFishChris

where the stars do not take sides - WitchofEndor

Fractures - EvieNyx

The beginning of a new and brighter birth - aloneintherain

Max: 59,947 (Salvage - MuffinLance)

Min: 3293 (Risking it all - Sreeder)

Average: 19,868

Top 5 most popular fics by number of comments:

The Art Of Burning - hella1975

Salvage - MuffinLance

Fractures - EvieNyx

Towards the Sun - MuffinLance

War Games - Lovely_Elbow_Leech

Max: 13,469 (The Art Of Burning - hella1975)

Min: 358 (Hallowed - Haircrescendo)

Average: 3634

Top 5 most popular fics by number of bookmarks:

absence of heat, excess of destiny - theycallmesuperboy

Salvage - MuffinLance

where the stars do not take sides - WitchofEndor

The Family You Choose - TunaFishChris

The beginning of a new and brighter birth - aloneintherain

Max: 150,317 (absence of heat - theycallmesuperboy)

Min: 430 (Risking it all - Sreeder)

Average: 9297

Highest kudos/hit ratio: Safety First - Haircrescendo (20.36%)

Lowest kudos/hit ratio: My Heart Burns For You - alwaysZutarian (0.89%)

Average kudos/hit ratio: 8.25%

Fic Ratings:

G: 9

T: 18

M: 6

E: 2

Unrated: 3

Popular authors (people who showed up more than once):

Aloneintherain (3)

Haircrescendo (5)

MuffinLance (4)

WitchofEndor (2)

Characters:

Literally all of these fics are Zuko-centric. Not all of them are Zuko-pov but every. single. one. focuses on Zuko as a main character. At least one of the following tags is on every single fic in this list: "The Gaang & Zuko", "Zuko & Zuko's Crew", "Zuko & Iroh" "Zuko & Azula" and "Zuko & [insert gaang member here]"

Relationships:

Ok this is what actually shocked me the most. I fully expected to see more Kataang, Zutara, etc in the top rated fics, but NO! Only 21 out of the 38 fics had any relationship slash tag, and of those, 20/21 were Sokka/Zuko (shoutout to My Heart Burns For You as the token Zutara fic to make it into this list). I did NOT realize Zukka was so popular! Now I'm super curious about what it would be like to run these numbers on FF.net because I know so much A:tla fanfic was written before ao3 existed and most hasn't been cross-posted, and Zukka wasn't a popular ship until more recently.

Other random observations:

There seems to be a pretty even split between post-canon firelord Zuko fics and canon-divergent "Zuko joins the Gaang early" fics.

Only one modern au as far as I could tell! (shoutout to "The Good Vanilla")

We all seem to love a Dadkoda fic

There is a very strong correlation between one-shots and a high kudos/hit ratio.

Seemingly no correlation between word count and number of kudos. The top kudos'd stories were mostly under 10k words, while all the other catergories were dominated by fics in the 100k+ word count.

I didn't really see much correlation between hits, kudos, and comments overall.

There were LOTS of fics that only showed up in one category, which was really interesting! I figured each list would look pretty much the same, and there were several fics that did show up on the front page of every category (Salvage definitely sweeps the board for overall most popular fic), but there was a lot of variation between each list! Some fics had TONS of hits but very few comments, some had truly wild kudos/hit ratios, some were just massively bookmarked.

Thank you for indulging in my nerdiness, and feel free to tell me what I missed or anything you're curious about!

Update: I did it again, this time with Legend of Zelda

[winterscaptain]

A Joyful Future Masterlist - Part I

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader  Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

updated: november 15th, 2021 total finished works: 166 works in progress: 23 planned works: 107

summary: canon-divergent, big family!au

currently working on absence part ii and the mean-it era

beta’d by @ssaic-jareau​, without whom none of this would be possible

resources and links: 

inspo blog + media folder

faq + cheat sheets 

headcanon masterlist 

to-write list 

find upcoming fics here | join my tag list! | submit an idea! 

please read faq and key before asking a question! 

▶ episodes i’m planning to adapt for ajf ✸ smut - explicit sexual content (18+ only, minors dni) ✦ suggestive content - non-explicit suggestions of intimacy, drinking, etc. ☰ fem!reader (all other fics are gender neutral) ◎ graphic/edit ✂ director’s commentary ☎ podfic 

Part I: Cicatrize

Ao3 Link

2007

Advocate Cicatrize ✂ | 3x01 "Doubt" - 3x11 "Birthright" Ambition Aaron Hotchner's Letter of Recommendation ◎

2008

▶ Working Title: Reflections | 3x05 "Seven Seconds" ▶ Working Title: Worser Instincts | 3x16 "Elephant's Memory" ▶ Working Title: Developments | 3x17 "In Heat" Dreaming ✦ Intellectual Guesswork | 3x19 "Tabula Rasa" Familiarity | Crossover: NCIS 5x19 "Judgement Day, Part II" Focused | 3x20 "Lo-Fi" - 4x01 "Mayhem" Constellations | 4x02 "The Angel Maker" Buffer Through and Through | 4x03 "Minimal Loss" ▶ Working Title: Milestone | 4x05 "Catching Out" Players Bedtime ▶ Working Title: Grounded | 4x07 "Memoriam" Pride | 4x08 "Masterpiece" Dead Man's Hand ☰ | 4x09 "52 Pickup" Unfair Midnight ✦

2009

At Risk Part I | 4x10 "Brothers at Arms" - 4x11 "Normal" At Risk Part II | 4x12 "Soul Mates" - 4x13 "Bloodline" A Kindness | 4x16 "Pleasure is My Business"

Part II: Fear Itself

Ao3 Link

2009

No Deal | 4x18 "Omnivore" ▶  Working Title: TBD | 4x21 "A Shade of Grey" Collision | 4x23 "Roadkill" ▶  Working Title: TBD | 4x24 "Amplification" Outnumbered Fear Itself | 5x01 "Faceless, Nameless" Enough ✂ Infirmity | 5x02 "Haunted" Push | 5x04 "Cradle to Grave" 5x05 "The Eyes Have It" Nightmare Realized | 5x09 "100" Hands | 5x09 "100" Nightmare Recalled | 5x09 "100" Stay Arrangements An Unrivaled Force of Nature | 5x10 "The Slave of Duty"

2010

Exceeding Expectations | 5x11 "Retaliation" Three's Company Sunburnt ▶  Working Title: TBD | 5x18 "The Fight" A Horrible First | 5x16 "Right of Passage" Unbecoming | 5x21 "Exit Wounds" ▶  Working Title: Blackout | 5x23-6x01 "Darkest Hour/Longest Night" An Opinion

Part III: Berry Hill

Ao3 Link

2010

A Real Hero | 6x09 "Devil's Night" Short Notice Berry Hill ▶ Working Title: Berry Hill (Aaron's Version) Two Inches Stowaway ✸

2011

No Help A Chance of Snow Waldosia | 6x18 "Lauren" - 6x24 "The Big Sea" Absence | 6x24 "The Big Sea" - 7x01 "It Takes a Village" Mean It ✸ ☰ | 7x01 "It Takes a Village" Mean It (SFW + Gender Neutral) ✦ | 7x01 "It Takes a Village" Firsts ✦ Impression Gossip: A Prelude ✦ ☰ Surreal About Time Second Best Obligated | 7x10 "There's No Place Like Home" Conspiracy The Pleasures of the Elder ✦ ☎ Not Complaining ✸ Mistletoe ✦ ✂ Bring It ✸

2012

Gifts & Notices Symptoms Hide

Masterlist Part II

Masterlist Part III

[morelikeravenbore]

how would Aurelie have navigated Hogwarts and moving to Scotland in a au where Sebastian was never there? Do you think she’d befriend Ominis?

HI ANON BB!

This question is genuinely so good, but I accidentally wrote a total crackfic in response that only sort of answers your question so I hope that's okay 👉👈

Toast & Tribulation

A crack fic in which I explore an AU where Aurélie is a Slytherin, and she and Ominis are besties/Hogwarts royalty. Yes, there will be Mean Girls references.

Content warnings: aside from nonsense and total crackficery, N/A, SFW.

Word count: 1.4k

Image credit: Ominis found via pinterest by sallowfae. Aurélie generated by me that one single time I tried AI and decided never again lol.

When Ominis Gaunt had first introduced himself outside the Undercroft by threatening to have her expelled, Aurélie swore right then and there to hate him for the rest of her life. And for most of her debut year at Hogwarts, she did just that — vehemently.

Such was her pleasure at seeing the Heir of Slytherin scowl unhappily, she made it a point to purposely side with his best friend Sebastian in every ridiculous argument the pair had, until, quite to her dismay, she found herself on the receiving end of Sebastian's crucio to retrieve a book, trudging through scary underground catacombs in search of some weird old relic and, worst of all, an accomplice to murder when Sebastian's uncle Solomon found out about their misadventures and tried to intervene. 

It was only then did she realise she'd perhaps been a bit hasty in inadvertently encouraging Sebastian's descent into darkness out of pure spite — but one didn't just threaten a French girl when she'd done nothing wrong and get away with it. 

As it turned out, murder had a way of bringing people together (so long as you weren't the one being murdered), and she and Ominis quickly found themselves allied together under the common goal of covering up Sebastian's crimes and keeping him out of Azkaban. That allyship, as unlikely and bewildering though it may have been, was only strengthened when Anne, Sebastian's twin and the only witness to Uncle Sallow's death besides Aurélie, rallied against them, insisting that her brother deserved to pay for his crimes by having Dementors suck out his will to live for the duration of his life. 

Anne Sallow had been a formidable opponent indeed; as stubborn as her brother and twice as clever, it had taken all of Aurélie and Ominis’ combined efforts of cunning and resourcefulness to convince her to spare Sebastian a fate worse than death. 

Subsequently, their allyship morphed into friendship after Anne up and disappeared, feeling betrayed by her brother and her oldest friend (and decidedly not a fan of the New Fifth Year), and was only strengthened further when Sebastian withdrew into his own private pit of despair, shutting them out despite their best efforts to pull him out again. 

Driven together by the absence of the Sallow twins and a burgeoning sense of camaraderie, Aurélie and Ominis — later dubbed Aurelis by their many admirers — found themselves with no one else to turn to but each other. By their seventh year, having realised they were far more powerful together than they were apart, the pair had become not only best friends, but Head Girl and Head Boy respectively, founders of la Société du Papillon Bleu (an exclusive club in which Aurélie passed judgement on the latest fashion trends and Ominis agreed even though he couldn't see any of it), leaders of the school choir, and the two most popular and influential students Hogwarts had seen since the original founders had walked the halls. 

If they could cover up a murder together, they could do anything. 

‘The toast is dry,’ said Aurélie one morning when Ominis joined her at the Slytherin table. 

Today, being Wednesday, Ominis had foregone his usual Slytherin green and silver for a bespoke all-black blazer, waistcoat and tailored trousers; one of the many ensembles Aurélie had ordered for him especially from France. 

‘That is unacceptable,’ he sniffed. ‘Hand it to me, let me feel it.’

A quick touch of the toast was all the confirmation he needed. Dropping it back onto the platter like a used handkerchief, Ominis wiped the crumbs off his fingers and declared, ‘Toast is out.’

Aurélie agreed with a fervent nod. ‘Toast is so out.’

Across the table, his mouth full of toast, Sebastian quietly rolled his eyes. 

‘You two are ridiculous,’ he muttered. ‘You do know that toast is supposed to be dry, don't you?’

‘You do know that on Wednesdays we wear black, don't you?’ Ominis retorted, and then, as an aside to Aurélie, ‘He's not wearing black, is he? I can sense it.’

Dressed in his typical emerald and silver uniform, Sebastian's natural tenacity rendered him immune to the self-imposed fashion rules that dictated his friends’ outfit choices, but he knew better than to argue with their astute judgement of appropriate bread dryness, and by the end of the day, nobody at Hogwarts dared eat another slice of toast lest they be cast aside and shunned for the rest of their schooling days — and possibly even beyond. 

And so it went: unchallenged in popularity, fierce and beautiful and vaguely terrifying, Aurelis were free to reign over the student body, revel in their infamy and walk in slow motion down the corridors between classes without consequence or reprimand. 

One spring morning, struck by a sudden stroke of inspiration, Aurélie brushed Sebastian's hair so that it swept across the right side of his face instead of his left. The result caused a frenzy the likes of which hadn't been seen since Professor Weasley had been caught smuggling toast into the faculty lounge, and suddenly every student, male and female alike, were changing the parting of their hair in hopes of replicating Sebastian's natural good looks and easy nonchalance. 

‘I saw Sebastian Sallow wearing his hair swooped over the opposite way, so I'm wearing my hair swooped over the opposite way,’ was a common phrase heard throughout the castle that week, and Sebastian enjoyed his newfound rise in popularity until Aurélie had the genius idea to let a lock of hair loose from Ominis’ usual slicked back hairstyle, and Sebastian's right-sided swoop was forgotten in the fever pitch that ensued thereafter. 

When December rolled around, the subject of the approaching Yule Ball was all anybody could talk about. Rumours abounded about Aurelis, the King and Queen of Hogwarts, until the anticipation was palpable and the collective excitement simmered on the edge of frenzy: what would they wear? Who would they go with? Would they arrive as a trio, Aurélie, Ominis and Sebastian united as one terrifying entity, or would they bestow their company onto those brave enough to ask them as dates? 

And what of Aurélie's dress? Had it really been handmade by a commune of Veela within the Palace of Versailles, who'd once, under utmost secrecy, made garments for Marie Antoinette? As the weeks wore on, the scrutiny over Aurélie's gown became so intense she had to hire a security troll to guard over her wardrobe day and night. 

When the trio indeed did arrive at the Ball as one united front, and glided down the Grand Staircase together in coordinated outfits, a collective gasp of adoration arose from the rapturous crowd, and several people actually fainted; never in the thousand-year history of the Yule Ball — nay, in the wizarding world at large — had a vision of such profound beauty and perfection been beheld. 

Aurélie's dress was an iridescent dream of shimmering gauze, as delicate as butterfly wings. Woven with unicorn hair and real fairy dust, the colours shifted from baby blue and sweet pink, to pastel green and pale lavender with every elegant movement and catch of the light. Several real butterflies fluttered in her long braided hair, and on each arm, in matching silk suits and unicorn hair bow-ties, Ominis and Sebastian stood tall and handsome beside her, enjoying their place next to the ethereal beauty that was Aurélie Genevieve Collins.

Once nothing more than a trio of misfits — an unknown French transfer student, a relucantant Heir, and an uncle-killing Dark Arts enthusiast — they'd risen above all adversity to come out on top. To come out as royalty. Overlooking the awestruck crowd, the three enjoyed their moment of glory until a great echoing bang sounded from across hall, and every head turned away from them. 

Framed in the great entrance doors, a blinding  vision of gold so bright they had to shield their eyes, stood a small figure, her dress cascading to the floor, glittering with what looked like pieces of pure sunlight woven into the silk. 

Somebody screamed, but whether from excitement or terror, Aurélie wasn't sure, until a moment later the stranger turned, moving so gracefully it made her want to cry, and a familiar face came into sharp relief. 

Their eyes locked from across the room. Beside her, Sebastian let out a gasp. 

Anne Sallow had returned to Hogwarts. 

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #46] Forgetting the Friendship

warnings: progress!! seven mv inspo!! fluffy goodness <33 a treat! (1) reference to 'ur so mean ting ting ball :('

notes: i love these chapters so much waaa, it makes me excited to write for bd again <3 also these chapters are copied straight from ao3 and the space after italicised words before full stops drives me insaaane but I am too lazy to fix it lol soz

wc: 9K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

Jeongguk sitting across from you at a dining table is not a foreign concept.

Nor is his smile, and the solace it brings; or his inquisitive eyes, and how they're able to make even the most mundane of activities enthralling.

In fact, sitting with Jeongguk in a dark, smokey barbecue place just off the central restaurant district downtown feels entirely comfortable.

Yet it's perhaps the most troubling thing of all: dating Jeongguk is easy .

Easy, like the first sip of an expensive vodka. Easy, like the laughter that comes whenever you're with him. Easy, like you knew it would be. Easy, like it always is.

The restaurant is familiar to you both - somewhere you've frequented for countless late-night dinners. It's a standard joint, nothing technical nor fancy about it. Booth seats, coal pits in the middle of the table, extractor fan above head.

The pipe work is exposed, but it's more for practicality than aesthetics, even if it does lend itself perfectly to the industrial vibe the place has going on. Lights are dim, neons on the walls, overheads shining down on the barbecues only. It's the perfect place to go incognito for a little. Perfect place to test the waters of what a date could be like with Jeongguk. Perfect, because you can hide, if you want.

Hide what you are. Hide how you feel. Hide from your friends, onlookers, judgement. Hide, as if you need to. As if anyone gives a shit. As if you aren't just a couple of besties just sharing some food.

No one understands.

No one realises they're witnessing a cosmic union that'll change the world as we know it. Celestial in the way your energies merge, a once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon is happening with every awkward glance. Every shy smile. Every bite of his lip, and flip of his lip ring. Every sparkle of your glitter beneath the hazy lights.

God, Jeongguk thinks, hands clammy. So fuckin' pretty.

You know exactly why he's chosen this place. 'Best meat in the entire city,' you've whined a few times, mouth full of your favourite cut. Moksal, the neck cut, is your go-to. Jeongguk always prefers samgyeopsal, and actually thinks there's a place across the road that is superior - but you like moksal, and you like the moksal here.

So here is where you are.

When you realise this—as he's asking the waiter for a cut of samgyeopsal and two cuts of moksal—your heart hurts. If it could pout, it would.

You don't realise that you're kind of pouting too, until Jeongguk asks, "Is that alright? Did you want something else? I can change the order."

"No," you insist, a smile settling on your lips, just shy of a giggle.

Attentive as always, you find his drive to keep you happy sweet. Charming, in fact. You know that if he had it his way, he'd have ordered three cuts of samgyeopsal straight off the bat, then maybe ordered moksal for round two.

But he wants this to be easy.

It is easy.

It's not like you had expected a date with Jeongguk to be a particular hardship. Nothing like that at all.

You've known him for long enough now, and experienced enough of life with him, to know what something like this could be like. Hell, you've done this exact thing with him on an easy two dozen occasions. More, maybe.

The ease, the comfortability, the absence of complication; It's all so easy .

You've never known love to be easy.

Never known it without conflict. You don't even know if this is love—but you know it has the potential to be.

It's too soon for such heavy words. The dates barely even started. A bottle of soju and a bottle of beer are brought to your table, and Jeongguk cracks the cap of the beer while you unscrew the soju. Work in tandem. Get the drinks flowing, 'cause neither of you are truly confident enough for this.

Have both tripped over your words already. Both took a little too long to think of responses, in an attempt to make them perfect. Make this perfect. Be perfect.

This is your first fatal error, for perfection has never been what either of you have liked about one another.

It's everything else—flaws, and all— that you like.

He'd proven that as soon as he had shown up at your door that evening.

"I like your hair," he had told you earlier, a little bashful in your apartment hallway, hands stuffed into his trouser pockets.

Half up, it isn't particularly special today.

Danbi had spritzed it with a little glitter hairspray while you'd been doing your makeup, and twisted some plaits back, leaving your grown-out fringe to frame your face. It is a little fancier than your normal half-up go-to, but it's not exactly ground-breaking.

'Smart casual' had been the attire set by Jeongguk after you'd asked for a dress code, which is honestly the worst thing he could have possibly said.

You're good at doing casual. Great at doing cocktail. Mildly okay at doing smart. The combination of smart and casual? Yeah, not so great. Too many things to factor in.

"Like, do I go business-sexy?" you'd considered out loud, spending far too much time whining when you should have been getting ready. "Yanno? Like a hot secretary? Is that what he means?"

"I think he just means a little dressy," Danbi had talked some sense into you. Really didn't understand all the fuss. "Not full Disco Ball, but enough to still turn heads."

Glancing over to the sparkly dress hanging on the back of your door—the same one that Jeongguk had sort of gifted to you over the weekend, but also not spoken to you about at all—you decide that maybe that will be a little too much.

Thankfully, Jeongguk did send you a mirror selfie twenty minutes before he was set to leave.

Black slacks, a blazer, and a graphic white tee beneath it. Smart casual. Captioned it with, 'will you be able to resist me, or should I get changed?'

You have a last minute panic and change to dress accordingly; tight black mini skirt, large white tee hanging loosely off your frame. A tour shirt from one of your favourite bands, it's been through the wash enough times to look almost vintage, even if it's just from a few years ago. Tucking it in a little at the front, you allow for the material to billow and hide the body Jeongguk seems to love so much. Perhaps it's better. Less tempting.

With a smile, you reply, 'no & no.'

Layering on some jewellery, you do a few last minute checks, and tug on your Converse. Totally not because you think he might wear his. Not at all. Decide against a jacket. You know Jeongguk's got one.

If you're gonna date, then you're gonna do the datey things - and that includes stealing his jacket before the end of the night.

Definitely has nothing to do with the fact you know Jiyeong did the same thing. You're definitely not trying to overwrite the memories of her. Not at all. That would be childish and pathetic and silly and exactly what you're doing.

You've had long enough of reducing yourself and making yourself invisible for the sake of men.

Jeongguk has never made you do that. Not once.

You're confident that Jeongguk won't ever make you reduce yourself. In fact, he's the one who frowns whenever you're without glitter. If anything, he seems to want to amplify you. It's a strange feeling. One you're not quite used to, yet.

But it's one that you had welcomed as he turned up at your door. Had dimples digging into his cheeks the second he caught your gaze, desperately fighting a smile.

A million thoughts raced through his head: how gorgeous you always look in the flickering light of your apartment hallway; how happy he is to be at your door, and how it felt like he'd be sick the entire subway ride there; how he'd planned on stopping for flowers on the way, but had been too eager to see you instead.

None of these thoughts escaped his lips.

Instead, the greeting had been awkward . Bashful. Both of you unsure of this new etiquette, even though being together feels like the most natural thing in the world.

He made note of your lack of jacket. Didn't insist you get one. Knew straight off the bat that he'd be draping his blazer over your shoulders by the end of the night. Wrapping you up as his own. Sticking a label on you that distinctly marks you as his.

He also noticed your shoes. Smiled. Looked down at his own pair - that he definitely didn't wear because he thought you might... not at all...

Part of you felt a little cheated as you headed down towards the subway ( where was the hand holding he'd spoken about? ) but you were also thankful he wasn't going in all guns blazing. Were nervous. Unsteady.

Now that you think about it, perhaps a hand would have been useful to hold.

But in a place that is familiar to you both, the nerves settle.

"So, tell me about yourself," you flirt, as if this really is a first date by the standards of normal people. "Pets? Siblings? Hobbies?"

Jeongguk smiles, easing into how natural this all feels. Feels a little odd, too. You know all this. Still, he nods. Cosplays as a stranger to you 'cause maybe he is a bit too acquainted for some guy who isn't even your boyfriend.

"One brother, no pets. Want a dog, but I'm waiting until I have more free time, yanno?"

"More free time?" you enquire, as if you don't know his schedule like the back of your own damn hand.

You're probably more well-versed in Jeongguk's work rota than your own by this point. Know which days to end up in Dionysus with no purpose other than to have his eyes on you the entire night. Know that he gyms at ass o'clock in the morning because of his work schedule. Know that he'll cancel that particular schedule if it gives him the excuse to stay in bed with you. Bonus point if he gets his cardio done in other ways.

You still might not be a gym girlie, but your core strength has never been better. You're getting pretty good at yoga, too. The Cobra is a particular favourite. Cow, too. And fish pose. In fact, now you think about it, you're getting real good at yoga. Danbi would be proud.

"More free time," he nods, before pausing to take the utensils from the waiter, insisting he's fine to grill his own meat. It's no different to usual—Jeongguk often happily cooks his own meat—but something about it this time around gets you smiling. A little flustered. You do love it when a man takes charge (mainly so you can fight with him), but it's entirely different now.

He just seems... capable. Dependable.

"Work enough hours at a part-time job for it to be full-time," he begins to explain. "But I'm also in the process of setting up my own business. Restaurant business."

Absolutely none of this is new to you, and yet you find yourself asking questions. So many questions. Rehash old conversations, and go off on new ones. Have Jeongguk smiling and enthusing, talking about his dreams like they're coming to life in little vapours dancing around his head. You can picture it all; his successes, his meticulously planned interior, the wind-down after a busy night, sitting with him around his favourite table and eating for yourselves.

He rambles on about staff uniforms, and whether or not he wants shirts or just aprons when he stops himself. Smiles, Says, "Sorry, I'm like the worst date. Just talking about myself non-stop."

Date . Jeongguk is your date. Fuck . You could squeal. You won't—but you could .

Shaking your head, you disagree. "I like hearing about your plans. It's fun. Your eyes get so sparkly whenever you talk about your dreams."

"Shut up," he cringes, a little embarrassed by himself, and also aware that you're totally wrong.

His eyes don't sparkle 'cause he's talking about his dreams.

His eyes sparkle cause he's looking at you as he speaks about them.

Nonethewiser, you raise your shot glass. It's filled to the brim with soju, hastily poured by him, and grin, "to your future."

He raises his glass, and knocks it against yours, tiny droplets of alcohol trickling over the lip of the glass and onto your fingers, so minimal it's almost unnoticeable. "To the future."

The , not his . A collective. A future he hopes you'll share together.

"Anyways," he says as he swallows down the soju and chases it with a little beer. "Tell me about you. Gimmie your life story, Disco Ball."

The smile on his face as he calls you that is sweet. Kind. His dark eyes twinkle in the dimly lit restaurant, a little smoke from the coals beneath the barbecue obscuring him for a brief moment.

Your ability to talk with Jeongguk about anything and everything for hours upon end is nothing new.

As you laugh and joke your way through dinner, there really is nothing remarkably hard about spending time with him. You never thought there would be.

Part of it worries you. Concerns you that 'nothing remarkably hard' could lead to you being simply 'nothing remarkable' altogether.

See, comfortable has been used upwards of a thousand times to describe your relationship. Now is no exception to that.

You talk with him like an old friend, not a new lover - and while this is fine, and safe, and necessary for a successful foundation, you fear that such security will prevent you from building something truly great.

Hours are lost in conversation.

The tables around you come and go. Fill up with new punters, then filter out. At one point, a server spends a little too long looking at your table. Jeongguk notices. Says, "I think we gotta order more or fuck off."

It's been three hours.

And so Jeongguk orders budae-jjigae to keep you going. Knows you won't eat all that much of it, but also knows he can demolish the stew off if needs be. It's cheaper than more meat, and easier to pretend like you're taking your time to eat it. Gives you more time.

Soju bottles empty out rapidly. New bottles are brought over every now and again, the table never running entirely dry. More meat is eventually ordered, because Jeongguk is Jeongguk, and the mere scent of the table next to you grilling up meat gets him hungry again.

Again, he grills for you for the most part, but when you take the tongs from him to turn the meat and give him a little break, he almost crumbles .

His gaze is centred on you. Flicks down your arm, to your wrist. Your hands. Watches as they work. Says nothing, just slowly wets his lips as you continue talking, then presses them together. His lip ring does the thing . Posture reclines a little into his chair.

"What?" you ask as you notice the way he's not paying attention to what you're saying at all. "You good?"

He just shrugs. Absent-mindedly toys with his lip ring a little. Is contemplative as he says, "Why are we putting ourselves through this, B?"

And while you could act dumb, and pretend like you don't know what he means, the relief that washes over is too damn obvious. Your shoulders fucking ease. He knows what you look like at ease, and now that you've sunk into it, he can't believe he didn't realise you were so tense before.

"Oh," he laughs, now, realising that you've been deliberating the exact same thing that's been running through his head. "Am I that much of a terrible date?"

"Date?" you tease. "This is a date?"

"Oh, fuck off," he laughs. "Course it's a date. I wore a blazer."

"You looked hot," you tell him, 'cause you've had a few too many shots to be making good decisions. Tucked into the base of the seating booth to protect it from the smoke, Jeongguk's in just a t-shirt now.

Arms out. Tattoos on display. Muscles tensing just right.

It's a miracle you've been able to form coherent sentences at all this evening.

Truthfully, you've not been focusing on them.

Can't help but let your mind jump back into its memories. Fractures of heated moments in his shower keep coming to mind. The grip you'd have on his arms as you came undone. Memories so potent they almost make you whine.

So yeah, you've been avoiding looking at his arms.

"Should I put it back on?" He raises a brow.

"No," you hum. Bit down on your lip. Sparkle underneath the lights of the restaurant. The taking of Jeongguk's breath is accidental. The way you shrug, and playfully raise your eyebrows as you recline into your chair, is not. "You're hot now, too."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were flirting with me, Byeol."

"Am I not?"

"Are you?"

He's so pedantic you could scream. Instead, you giggle. Shrug as you lean forward to slide your chopsticks beneath one of the fermented perilla leaves. Say, "Give me a hand?"

Of all the things Jeongguk wants to give you right now, a hand is definitely one of them. Maybe not in the way you're requesting, but fuck . He's insatiable whenever you're like this. Impatient .

Yet, he does as he's asked. Splits the leaves for you. Wonders how out of pocket a marriage proposal would be, even if he is just joking.

Instead, he asks, "If we go somewhere else after this, can it count as date two?"

"No."

"Byeol," he whines.

"No," you laugh, knowing exactly why he's asking. "You can't get me into bed that easily. Can't speed up the process. You gotta earn it."

He has earned it. You know it, he knows it. Everyone who looks your way knows it. Your want for him is written all over your face, cosmic eyes shooting up like stars every time you glance his way.

"The process is dumb," he pouts.

"The process is necessary," you insist, though you really are doubting it now.

"The process has already been done," he assures you, though you're not sure his maths is adding up. This is still just date one of five.

Thing is, Jeongguk sees eating together as more of a daily routine thing. It's not special enough - but it's what he said he'd do in the midst of a fuck that felt like a whole lot more, so he had to see it through. Had to make sure your expectations were met. Didn't want you to be disappointed if he didn't follow through.

"We've basically been ' together ' for fuckin' ages, now," he continues, lips a hell of a lot looser now that he's got soju swarming through his veins. Cares not to hide how he views things between you. "The rules are redundant 'cause we already know each other like the back of our hands."

"So?" You toy, enjoying this slightly desperate side to Jeongguk. You normally only get to see it in bed. Nice to witness it fully clothed, even if it does make you wanna disregard the rules you're so desperately trying to enforce. "Think about how good it will be when you finally get me how you want me."

"It'll just be embarrassing," he assures you, thankful that the chatter around you drowns out the conversation you're having. "I'll finish, in like, 2 seconds."

"No different to usual, then."

"Fuck you."

"No," you smirk. "That's the whole issue, remember? We're not allowed to."

"Swear you get off on my pain," he grumbles, topping up both of your glasses with the dregs of the beer left in the bottle. Pours you both water, too. Definitely hasn't had enough, so he doubts you have, either. "Is this what our relationship is gonna look like, huh? You torturing me for the fun of it?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself," you tease him with a playful smile. "I'm not your girlfriend."

He just shrugs again. "Yet."

Your lips purse. Smile hides. Eyes sparkle.

Yet , you think.

As if he can read your mind, he just nods slowly. Yet .

No time is given to dwell on such a small word, for Jeongguk gets already on his feet and heads over to pay. Doesn't even give you the option of offering to go halves, because it is a date, and he does want to tick all the boxes. Make you happy.

And he does. You are.

The restaurant you're in is a few floors up from the street. A skincare shop is on the bottom floor and a kitchen on the next one up. The staircase is themed, adjacent to the restaurant. Has a vibe about it that just begs to be photographed - which is obviously an intentional, marketing ploy, given by the sheer amount of mirrors available on the descent. All branded with a small tag in the corner, you know if you searched it on insta, heaps of selfies would pop up.

Grabbing his blazer from the booth, Jeongguk ushers you towards the staircase, Drapes his blazer over your shoulders, even if you aren't complaining about the cold yet. He knows you will.

Even though he's not been wearing it, there's a warmth about his blazer. His aftershave is stuck in the fibres. Divine. Fresh. Dreamy.

"Wait," you hum as you get to the biggest mirror of the staircase. It's full length. Dimly lit, with neons in the background to give it a vibe that you know girls on the gram will just eat up.

Jeongguk pulls you to stand in front of him ever so slightly. Takes your phone from your hand and slides the screen across to auto-unlock the camera.

Pictures taken together are a rarity, normally always with your other friends. Never just you two. Not since the photobooth in Busan.

He thinks about it often, mainly 'cause every time he sits at his computer desk, he can see them poking out from behind another poster. He keeps them up, a little obscured so that Jimin never notices them, but so he can always feel their presence.

"Should document it," he narrates the choices he's making. "Evidence of our little dating experiment."

It's not what he wants to say. Not what he's thinking. If he were being honest, he'd say 'evidence to show our grandchildren.'

"You're such a romantic," you tease with a roll of your eyes, but naturally find yourself leaning into a pose.

Though Jeongguk once told Yoongi he wouldn't want his relationships plastered all over instagram, he's positioning himself in the perfect soft launch pose. Hangs his arm over your shoulder, tattoos on full display now that his blazer is draped over your shoulders. Covers his face with the phone, and lets you take centre stage.

He thinks he'd quite like to end up on your feed. Not just your story.

The refracted light of a disco ball in the corner of the staircase glitters down on you both, dappling you in pockets of luminance.

"Well, what do you want me to say?" He replies with a smile, tone matching yours as your fingers reach up to link with his. He takes another photo. Switches the camera to record. Looks down towards you. Says, "That I wanna preserve this? That I want to keep this moment forever? That I want something to show future generations?"

None-the-wiser of your rolling camera, you shrug. Smile, looking at you both in the mirror. Look up to him.

"Are you this forward with all your first dates?"

"Only the ones I know I have a future with."

"Oh?" You question, turning your body to face his. The hand that had been slung over your shoulder comes to rub tenderly up and down your back. "You're pretty confident."

He nods, smile soft as his dark eyes just drink you in. There's a giddy feeling in his stomach, and it's not just the alcohol. "Should I not be?"

The familiarity of Jeongguk is only exacerbated as his nose nudges up against yours.

It's tender, and tepid, and he knows better than to be so affectionate with another person in such a public space, but he doesn't care. Felt distant from you when he was across the table; like the supply to his oxygen was being stifled, but now he can breathe again.

You don't resist as he steals a kiss. It's small. Tepid. A punctuation mark for a question that really shouldn't make you feel as head over heels as it does.

"I never said that," you smile, his nose resting against yours as he locks your phone. Will let you find that video some other time. Wishes he was still recording when you say, "I think it's something worth preserving. Think I'll wanna look back on it too."

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm," you mumble into his lips, sinking into another forbidden kiss. "For when we're old and grey and I'm reminiscing over my former lovers."

You're deliberately downplaying how you feel; how you know that there'll never be another lover after him.

If Jeongguk chooses not to see this through, then that's it.

At the ripe old age of twenty-seven, you've determined that no man nor woman could ever compare to him.

His particular cluster of cells is just the right one for you; the right combination of stardust.

If you ever find yourself trapped between sheets with someone else, they'd be nothing more than a misplaced life experience. Not one for the history books. Names wouldn't be remembered, the feeling long-forgotten by the time you're reminiscing.

But not Jeongguk. Never Jeongguk.

It's terrifying to look at another human and know the course of your life is forever changed because of them.

But it's comforting—so, so comforting—when replies, "Former? B, if I'm not covered in your fuckin' glitter on my death bed then I'll... I don't know," he laughs. "Haunt you? I don't fuckin' know. Just take fuckin' former outta your mouth when you talk about us."

"You're so lucky we're in public right now," you sigh a little dreamily.

"Why's that?"

"You're, like, one right sentence away from me getting to my knees."

"Don't say that," Jeongguk groans with a smile. Shakes his head. His nose strokes against yours like it so often does, even closer than before. In fact, he's so close that you can feel his lips as he husks, "Lets get outta here, B."

Shaking your head, you smile. "Ask nicely."

Jeongguk pulls away, and tugs on your hand to have him following you. "You gotta stop being so..."

"So?"

"So you ," he laughs, as you head down the stairs. "Swear you live to wind me up."

"I do," you assure him. "Is it working?"

Leading you down the stairs and onto the bustling city street, Jeongguk likes how much of a menace you insist on being.

Drunk revellers line the pavements, so his grip is tight. He's keeping you close. Smiling with every innocuous statement said by you, then glaring at every fucker who looks your way. You never notice. Are too busy knocking into his chest with every step, glitter no doubt embedding itself in the cotton of his shirt.

He won't complain. Will never complain.

Too late for the subway, and with his car parked up still at his place, a taxi is your only solution to get back to your place. A little too far from town, the walk would take just over an hour, and honestly, neither of you fancy it.

Issue is, getting a taxi at this time of night is hellish, too.

"Just stay at mine," Jeongguk insists as you wait by the taxi rank. Thinks it's a no-brainer. He and Jimin live in the city centre. It's the perfect compromise. "We've done it a hundred times over. Are perfectly capable of—"

"No we're not," you laugh. "All I have to do is look at you in the right way and you get hard."

"So don't look at me," he laughs right back, not even caring to protest it, pulling you in for a hug to stop you from jittering around. It's still cold, May yet to greet you both the bloom of a new season. The blossoms of spring wilted away at the start of the month, but it's still not summer quite yet.

"Or maybe you shouldn't look at me ."

"How can I not?" He whines into your hair, pressing a kiss down on the top of your head. "You're so pretty tonight. So pretty all the time."

Pretty, he thinks when you look at him like that.

Pretty, when you do eventually start walking home with him, and the lights of noraebang entryways shinedown on you, colourful and contrasting your silvery shine. Pretty when you giggle. Pretty when he tugs on your hand and pulls you into a sidestreet for a moment or two whenever your teasing gets a little too much.

He'll always say something like, "If I can't kiss you in the next three minutes, I'll die," or, "Is that what you want? My death on your hands?"

And you'll always reply with something like, "You're lucky I don't fancy going to jail tonight."

Sometimes you don't reply at all. Sometimes, you just kiss him. No games.

Just him, and you, and the physical manifestation of the way you feel about him.

The walk back to his place is made far longer than it needs to be. Detours are taken, and wrong turns are deliberately walked down just to give you both more time together. More, more, more is all you ever seem to want from one another.

And yet as you get back to his place, Jeongguk is the one to start arranging the bedding that separates you. Gets all the pillows he can find in his apartment, and begins to make a little nest beside his bed. Keeps the good pillows on his bed, 'cause that's where you'll be, and he wants you comfy.

A boundary was set by you, so as much as he can whine or complain, he'll always respect it.

In fact, if you were to turn around now and say 'fuck it', he'd be the one to reinforce it. Knows you've both had a little too much to drink. Doesn't want you doing anything you'll regret.

"C'mon," he says fondly, coming to stand in front of you at the end of his bed. Cups your jaw and presses a kiss to your forehead. "Let's get washed up, B. Teeth, then bed."

The way Jeongguk feels the need to always take care of you is sweet. Tender. Careful. He fears doing the wrong thing so often, that his default is to be overwhelmingly good.

Comfort is found in this routine of yours.

Domestic, it's sort of devastating when you realise how well-acquainted you are with one another's habits.

He finishes his teeth brushing just before you, 'cause he knows you always like to be the last to finish for some weird, competitive reason.

Knows you sleep with your hair up, cause you hate the way it feels around your neck, so gently slides out the pin keeping half of it up. Lets it tumble down as you come to the end of your brushing, but scoops it back before you go to rid your mouth of toothpaste. Says nothing, still, as he ties your hair up with the thin band around his wrist.

Teeth clean, you turn to face him. Let his body press against yours. Encourage it, in fact, then give no resistance as he drags you to the left of the sink, nor when he hooks his arm beneath your ass and lifts you to perch on the counter.

"So pretty," he whispers, tucking back some loose strands he missed. Just you and him, Jimin's already asleep in the room next door. The apartment is silent save for the thudding of your beating hearts, that carry the weight of an orchestra on their base notes. You'll be a symphony, one day. "You know that right? Prettiest thing I've ever seen. Sparkliest, too."

If Jeongguk were to sit down and think about it, he could probably write a fuckin' sonnet.

But he's drunk, and he's sleepy, and you're just so pretty.

Forehead resting against yours, there's no desire for him to take this further. No need for him to elevate this. All he wants— truly —is for you to know he means it. Not just on a superficial level. On a deeply human, richly complex level.

You make him—his heart —feel pretty, too.

And so even though his nose nudges against yours, lips trembling, he doesn't kiss you. Won't sully his words with overwhelming physical passion. Instead, he lifts you. Carries you to his room. Sets you down on his bed without a single word.

Crazy, how a touch so tender can send you reeling; wanting. His silence is maddening.

It scares you. Worries you that maybe he isn't saying anything because anything he does say will upset you.

It prevails as you turn away from one another to get changed. He strips to his boxers, and you adopt a shirt of his that's been tossed over the back of his desk chair. No different to usual.

But as you settle into bed, and listen to him do the same, it's his voice that breaks the barrier. Bulldozes the wall you had begun to put up around yourself in an act of self-preservation.

"What do you even like about me, B?"

Barely a whisper, it's almost like he's scared of being heard; as if whatever answer you give will devastate him.

So fixated on everything he likes about you, he's beginning to realise that he can't really work out why someone like you would ever go for someone like him.

He's unestablished. Unstable in his career. Has barely finished school. Has no money, or at least not enough to provide you with any of the good stuff in life. Not yet, at least. 

You had to spend an eternity listening to him whine about an ex that has proven herself to be pretty fuckin' awful. You live with the knowledge of all that he's done in pursuit of her. How desperate and pathetic he was.

The monsters that go bump in the night in Jeongguk's room live inside his head. They lie to him; tell him he's unworthy of the things he earned. Whether it be the business he's setting up, or the girl he's been fawning over for months, everything just appears a little out of grasp.

Like a donkey chasing a carrot, he runs and runs. Pursues his desires but can never reach them. He's asking for a lifeline, now. Is desperate.

"In what way?" you ask.

You'll give him a list as long as Jimin's Dionysus bar tab, if he wants. Can think of a million little things you adore—but you're scared, too. Vulnerability has never come easy to either of you.

It's a little ridiculous by now, how you both manage to let the devils on your shoulders worm their way into your ears and corrupt your brains. In the dark of night, it's easier for them to creep in. Less light to reflect upon the glitter that would typically keep them at bay.

"You know what way."

It's true. You do. Of course, you do.

Talk is cheap, you always think. Actions speak louder than words, or so has been the case for Jeon Jeongguk since the moment you met him - but it's words he needs now. Words that will soothe his brain. Words that will wrap around his insecurities.

Insecurities that are exacerbated by the fact you don't want to share a bed with him anymore, and the way your touch has become something that's withheld until he proves himself.

He doesn't even realise the way his mind is chalking up this new rearrangement. Doesn't understand that the slightly sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach is anxiety.

Change is never easy, but he knows it's often good. Even with this in mind, Jeongguk feels pretty awful. Maybe it's just the alcohol wearing thin. Maybe he just needs to sleep.

He never wanted things to change. Wanted things to stay exactly how they were. He told you this. All he wanted was the security that you wanted him, too—but now there are rules, and boxes to tick, and a change in a dynamic that he quite frankly thought was perfect before.

With these changes comes a physical distance, of course, yet it's manifesting itself emotionally in a way that you really should have predicted.

He's clingy . Always has been. Always keeps you close.

And now that he can't, he needs something to fill the space left by your prohibited touch.

A similar pang of discomfort washes over you; matches his dis-ease.

"So many things," you start, because it's hard to pick just one.

He stays silent. Knows you're working through your thoughts. Feels embarrassed to be asking for such attention, but he just needs something, anything , to remedy his brain.

The distance between you seems to grow in the silence, much like it did in your apartment when he showed up with his last birds.

Together, you're like an elastic band that just stretches and stretches and—

"Can I come down there, Gguk?"

You're stretching, still. The silence is empty around you as he tries to find the right response.

He gives up. Begs, "Please."

And so— ping .

You snap right back.

Pulling his bedding to the floor, you build an even bigger nest. Snuggle up beside him. Give no resistance, as he pulls you closer. Gets you beneath the same duvet. Shirtless, Jeongguk remains warm to the touch, and your hands remain gentle on his skin.

Both of you take a second to indulge in the closeness. Your leg hooks over his hip, his hand stroking up the back of your thigh as you do so, but it's not taken beyond the simplicity of what it is.

This isn't about sex.

It's about intimacy; about his heart, and how he foolishly felt like glitter had been replaced with shards of glass.

Remedied, Jeongguk can breathe again.

"I like your work ethic," you eventually whisper, brushing back a few strands of his hair, the darkness of the room not obscuring your star boy entirely. He adjusts slightly. Strokes your hip. Nudges his nose up against yours—not for anything other than for the fact he can. Doesn't kiss you. Lets you talk. "You work so hard, Gguk. So hard."

He stays silent. Asked for compliments, but doesn't really know how to respond to them.

So you give him more. Slide your hand up his throat, until his ear rests between your thumb and index finger, nails softly scratching his scalp.

"I also like your hair," you admit, because you're touching it, and it comes to mind, and because you don't think you tell him enough.

"Wanna grow it again," he mumbles, ever critical of himself.

"If you want to, you should," you tell him. "But it always reminds me of when we met when it's like this. I like it both ways."

"Your memory is good," he sort of derails the conversation.

"I remember 'cause it's important," you tell him—then decide to put the carriage of whatever fuck this is back on course. "I remember 'cause you're important, Gguk."

"Even back then?"

"God, especially back then," you insist. "You were so kind. So kind. Kind when you didn't have to be. Barely knew me and yet you made me feel so safe."

"Anyone would have—"

"No," you firmly interject. "Not just anyone. I went to a lot of bars last spring and not a single barman was making sure their punters were getting water. Only you. You go above and beyond for people. It's admirable. I like that. I like how kind you are. God, Gguk, the list is endless."

"Endless?"

"Endless. I like so much about you. So much." And you're not sure if you should continue listing out things, because you fear saying a little too much. Worry that the true nature of your feelings is a little too much for the freshness of this new endeavour. "I just... you're the best person I know. Truly."

He takes a second to fully digest your words. Appreciates them. You. The way you're willing to meet him halfway, and stop him from going off the deep end.

"Will you stay down here?" He whispers against your lips. The delicacy of such a touch leaves you a little breathless, even if it's not his intention. "No funny business. Just wanna be with you, B."

If anything, the lack of Jeongguk's desire for anything physical only makes you want him more. It's bizarre to be in such a state of yearning for someone right in front of you.

It's not like you're particularly in the mood, or deprived, or anything like that - it's just the perfect example of why cultivating intimacy is such a disaster for you. Makes you realise why it's always so impossible to stay away from one another. Sex is never just sex. Not with Jeongguk.

Cut from the same cloth, it's a shared language; one that you only ever speak together.

Nodding, you say, "I'll stay."

Together, you curl into a position more suitable for sleep. He takes the position of the little spoon, 'cause facing one another is dangerous, and so is having his dick to your back. Neither of you are stupid.

At least, you like to pretend you're not.

In the night, you twist and turn regardless. Change positions half a dozen times. Wake up with his arm wrapped over your waist, your body tucked up against his. He's the big spoon now.

"Ignore it," he grumbles into your hair when he feels you begin to stir.

"Impossible," you sleepily hum into the pillows, needing absolutely no confirmation of what he's talking about. Can feel him digging into your back. "Too big."

"Oh yeah?" he smirks, and presses a kiss to the back of your hair. Tightens his grip around, to say a silent morning.

"Mhmm," you confirm. "You can add it to the list of things I like about you."

"Fuck off," he scolds, but you can hear the smile in his tone.

"In fact, put it at the top of the list."

"The top?!" He protests—yet he's holding you ever tighter, still.

"Mmm, maybe just behind the free drinks at Dionysus."

"Don't remind me of work," he whines.

"You in tonight?"

"Mhmm," he regretfully mumbles. "Got a meeting with the bank first, though. Busy day."

"Want me to get going?" you ask, reaching up to grab your phone from the bedside table. Checking the time, you ignore all the texts from Danbi wondering how it went. Will just tell her later. Truthfully, you're not even sure how it went. "It's just gone nine. Want me to get outta your hair?"

"Meeting isn't until one," he tells you, but does add, "I've got some things I need to sort out beforehand."

"Say no more," you offer, stretching yourself out and away from his grasp. He whines and he moans, because he's Jeongguk, and of course he does. You tease him, and tell him not to miss you too much, because you're you, and of course you do.

But all Jeongguk does in your absence is miss you.

Spends most of his time in his bank meeting ignoring the clerk. Will read the paperwork later. Is still frustrated with the situation at hand, still yet to find a solution to his problem. Still yet to tell you about, 'cause he doesn't realise a problem shared is a problem halved. Will keep the bank issue tucked away. Nothing for you to worry about.

When work rolls by, he's checking his phone every few minutes. Earns himself some not-so-subtle side-eyes from Yeonjun. Loses 50k in a bet with him over how long he could go without checking his phone. Jeongguk is adamant he hit the fifteen-minute mark. Yeonjun was timing it. Was eight.

As the week progresses, your schedules aren't aligning. Alongside work, you're prepping Tae's next art show, and becoming painfully aware of how unsustainable it is—especially because the new curator is just as shit as you were warned they would be.

You're not just burning the candle at both ends; it's been dumped in a wax burner. Wick intact, it's the wax that's melting away.

Something's gotta give, and regretfully, it kinda feels like Jeongguk has been the sacrifice.

Stress is becoming well acquainted with you both.

He tries filling his empty space with the gym. It always used to work. Jiyeong still ignores him whenever he turns up, and it suits him just fine, but she has started at least looking ambivalent. The daggers he used to get never cut him particularly deep, but he didn't like the scratches on his skin for merely existing.

Still, his head is full of you—what you're doing, how work is, how he wishes you'd show up at the end of his sessions like you used to do, coffee in hand. Doesn't get why going on dates now means that you don't just hang out like normal.

So he hits personal bests, and has no one to tell when he leaves, shirt sticking to his back, eyes dark. There's a near-permanent ridge between his brows, testosterone up but his drive to do anything about it way down.

He gets coffee by himself, and smiles when the girl at the counter flirts with him like she always, but internally spends the entire interaction telling her to get fucked. She's a nice girl. Jeongguk's sure she's really nice, in fact, but he's so frustrated with everything that he can't even take pleasure from the acknowledgement that he's desired.

Doesn't want it.

Just wants you.

But you're busy, and so is he, and the one evening he thought you might be free to hang out, you had pole with Danbi, so he even finds himself resenting that. It's at that point he knows he's going mad, because what lover of the female anatomy would ever hate that?

He sends you pictures from his bed, and you send him pictures right back, just as innocent as they are illicit. Just shoulders. Lips. Rumpled duvets, that are only really disturbed on one side. Allusions to that fact you'd rather be with one another. Declarations of your yearning without anything tangible.

It's just under a week until Yoongi and Seoyeon's big day, and he worries that you guys will be in an awkward state of limbo. Doesn't want to have to face all your friends and act all normal while you're still in this clumsy stage.

There's a very real fear within Jeongguk that the first date just wasn't... right . That you've had time to think, and know that he isn't suited to you. That his insecurities or neediness have somehow made him unattractive, to you. That you're biding your time until you can figure out a way to let him gently.

And yet come Saturday—

"Thought I was gonna die," Jeongguk desperately husks into your lips, hips pressed to your tummy, your back to your apartment door. He's not even taken his shoes off yet, and for some reason, you're stripping him of his jacket. "Swear my brain doesn't work without you."

"That's, like—" His kisses never let you get more than a word or two out. "—probably not—" God, he's insatiable. "—healthy, babe."

And then he's groaning. Telling you not to call him that. Kissing you even harder just to get his desire out of his system—but it never fuckin' eases. Never does with you.

Just like you'll never stop calling him by the names that make him weak. You like him like this. Like his neediness. He never needs to worry. You know exactly who he is. None of this comes as a surprise.

For now, though, you've gotta reel it in. You've a date to have. One planned by you, this time. One that'll strip you back to who you are—no external pressure to perform, no big need to get it right.

Just you, and him, and little paint (but, sadly, a lot less boobs).

"C'mon," you smile, pulling away, realising maybe you shouldn't have taken his jacket off him (even if it did mean you could get your hands up his shirt in the midst of your makeout session). "Let's go."

The hold that Jeongguk has on your hand as you lead him up the stairs of your apartment block rooftop is loose. Barely there. Just enough. A whisper of a touch; everything that needs to be said.

It tightens in the small enclosure just in front of the door that leads to your roof.

Just you and him, the winding flight of stairs beneath you is empty. Mid-afternoon, it won't be long until the sun sets.

You love this time of year for that very purpose. The setting sun is always far brighter, far bolder, far keener to welcome in your favourite time of day. The longer the stars are in the sky, the more at home you feel.

Jeongguk's always been a bit of a night owl, too. It's fated, perhaps, that he should find himself in a permanent state of yearning for the brightest star he's ever known. It's always the middle of the night when he's with you. Always his favourite time of the day.

Could be seven in the morning, but as long as you're beside him? Favourite time. Could be midday sunshine, but if you're there? Favourite time . Could be a time like right now, mid-afternoon, not a star in the sky, and yet? Favourite time.

You're midnight.

Not in a way that invokes fear or suspicion, like the midnight streets of a busy city, but in a way that invites mystery and intrigue. You're midnight in the same way that Dionysus is; fun, a little ridiculous, and always a good time. Midnight, in how you shine. Sparkle. Midnight, in the way that Jeongguk thinks you must be a dream.

It's the only way to explain how he's stumbled across another human so perfectly out of key. So perfect for him. Immaculate in how you radiate everything Jeongguk desires; flawless in the way you align with him. Body, mind, spirit. All of the cliche things, with none of the cliche.

Though still gentle with his touch, Jeongguk becomes a little more domineering than he had been. Takes control of the position, knowing that the plans beyond the weighty steel door are all yours.

It's not like he minds giving up control. Gladly does it. Just doesn't want you thinking that he takes any of this for granted. Doesn't want you to think he's just going along with what you want, because it's easy. Wants to prove to you that all of his choices right now are deliberate.

That he's intentional. That he's choosing you , not just the path of least resistance.

He pulls you back, and your body naturally turns to face his, like a tide rolling in or the sun setting beyond it. There's silence as you're dragged towards Jeongguk, with only shy giggles to accent your movements when he gets your back pressed to the door.

"No funny business," you remind him as his nose nudges against yours. "We haven't even started date number two. It's the rules, Gguk."

He simply shrugs. Nudges your nose one last time before sinking his lips down into yours—and the way you accept him so willingly would suggest you really don't care all too much about that damn rule.

"Rules are made to be broken," he assures you, lips brushing yours with every mumbled word.

"I'm gonna think you only care about the sex," you warn him softly.

You won't think that at all. You've known him for long enough now to understand how he works; why he doesn't sleep around much. Sex, for Jeongguk, is an extension of himself; how he feels.

So yeah, while Jeongguk might chase his own pleasure during sex, it's never the goal. Not really. It's a nice by-product, sure, but it's not the reason he fucks.

Just like kissing is a declaration for you, the way he gives himself up is a declaration for him. A way to speak his words without having to say anything at all.

He shakes his head against you, lips still pressing down into yours. Groans a little as he pulls away. Rests his forehead on yours, and says, "I fuck you because I care about you. Stupid."

"Calling me stupid isn't gonna make me believe you," you tease him, rolling away from his grasp. Quite like it when he calls you dumb names like that. Makes everything feel so much simpler, like a childhood romance, or something dumb like that. Lowers the stakes. Still, you're pedantic, and he knows this. You'll be bratty, always. "Was working in your favour until you said that. Shame."

Jeongguk just rolls his eyes. Smirks. Relents. Isn't holding your hand anymore and misses it, but knows you need to unlock the door. Says, "You didn't let me finish."

"Finish?" you laugh, twisting the door handle and pushing the door open. Jeongguk's hand comes to press against the metal above your head, helping with the weight of the door.

"Mhmm," he says as natural light pours into the small enclosure, following you as you step out onto the rooftop. "Was gonna say stupid hot . You're stupid hot ."

"You are so full of shit."

Maybe he is bullshitting you. Maybe he's the stupid one. Maybe none of it matters, because the way his hands come to settle on your waist as he follows you in the open space makes you feel all silly inside. Goofy. Stupid .

Oh, how you hate it when he's right.

And when Jeongguk sees what you've got set up on the rooftop for the pair of you—paint, and canvases, and the promise of something sweet blossoming beneath clementine skies—he has to stop himself from blurting out something equally stupid, like 'you're so perfect, ' or, 'I'm so in love with you.'

Instead, he just smiles. Presses a kiss to the curve of your neck. Husks, "We both know how this ends, B."

"Different this time," you tell him, walking in tandem with him over the blanket and cushions that he recognises from your apartment. "Last time you were in denial about how much you like boobs."

"True."

"And so now I don't need to convince you they're the greatest thing on planet Earth."

"What if I just look?" he chances, flopping down onto the surprisingly comfortable surface. "Promise I won't touch?"

"Nope."

"You're so mean, Disco Ball."

"You love it," you tease, coming to lounge by him.

He doesn't say it. Doesn't need to. You both know his little laugh, and the silence that follows means one thing and one thing only.

Yeah, he thinks to himself. Suppose I do.

[heich0e]

bsf’s little brother but it’s osamu who’s the little brother by like two mins 😁😁😁 this is just me finding ways to fit samu into any trope btw <3 but YES bsf’s little bro tobio who starts sending u pics of cool stuff he sees in italy, u always telling him to keep safe, who blushes when u call him pet names 😔😔

miwa plans a trip to visit tobio in italy but has to bail last minute because of work, and begs you to take her ticket and go instead. "to check on him, to make sure he's not living out of his suitcases!" she says, pleading with you to let her transfer her ticket into your name.

so against all odds (and your better judgement) you end up in italy, of all places.

tobio picks you up at the airport in a hat and sunglasses, but you can't mistake the way he towers over the rest of the crowd at the arrivals gate. he carries your bags up to his apartment (where you happily confirm that no, he's not living out of suitcases--though you suspect a fair amount of the decor in his apartment was purchased just prior to your arrival if the receipts and packaging in his trashcan are anything to go by) and lingers in the doorway to the guest bedroom while you settle in. he tells you six times where the towels are. reminds you constantly to make yourself at home. it's kind of cute, you can't help but think, how eager he is.

tobio's training schedule is as busy as you'd expect--leaving early each morning, and sometimes not coming home until late in the evening depending on if it's a game day or not--but you keep yourself busy with sightseeing in his absence, and then the two of you eat dinner together each night. sometimes you go out to visit a restaurant in his quaint little neighbourhood, sometimes you cook for him in the afternoons before he arrives home.

you tell him all about your day while the two of you eat, only to find out that since moving to italy, tobio has visited sum total ZERO tourist attractions or places of cultural significance.

"been busy," he murmurs into the spoonful of soup you'd prepared as a side for dinner that evening--something from home, since you'd sensed it was something the young man was missing.

but that just won't do. so when tobio FINALLY gets a stretch of a few days off, you drag him out to all of your favourite places that you'd visited since arriving. he doesn't complain once. especially not when you grab his hand so the two of you don't get separated in the lively, bustling italian streets.

tobio introduces you to his teammates one evening towards the end of your visit when you come to meet him at the arena after practice. they're an energetic bunch. extremely tall. very sweaty. and they seem to get a bit rowdy when tobio shoots you a shy little wave once he spots you waiting in the stands as the group of men shuffle off towards the locker rooms. you hear "tua tesorina" thrown around more than once between the men, and it only makes tobio go red up to his ears, snapping at them viciously in italian though it seems completely ineffective. it sounds a bit like 'your sister'--tua sorella--so you assume they must be teasing tobio for your presence. it makes you giggle a bit to yourself as you wait for him to emerge from the showers.

it's not until you're at your departure gate in the airport at the end of your nine day trip, waiting for your flight home with a heavy heart you can't quite explain, that you finally look up what it meant.

tua tesorina: your little treasure (literal), your darling (familiar)

this post can be read as a follow up to/continuation of this drabble

[innerchorus]

Arslan Senki Chapter 128 (Part 1)

We've finally reached it. The Worst Coronation Ceremony in the World. As I'd hoped would be the case, it's a split chapter, with the first half sticking with Team Arslan before the second half moves to Ecbatana to focus on Team Hilmes.

The chapter opens with the gang sitting around a campfire.

An owl... Do Team Zahhak have someone watching them? Are we going to see that someone report back to the Master soon about how Prince Arslan now has Rukhnabad? Yeah sometimes an owl is just an owl but this really has Team Zahhak vibes.

Arslan trying to ask Don Ricardo to hand Rukhnabad to him, realising he doesn't speak Parsian, and then... managing to speak some fragmented Lusitanian? 👌 I love that he's been learning this and is willing to try instead of just asking Estelle to translate.

Who wouldn't immediately hand over the sword that saved your life upon seeing this face, amirite?

(Obviously, it worked. Totally disarmed, Don Ricardo gives Arslan the sword.)

Anyway now we have RUKHNABAD PLOT TWIST, because Arslan can't draw the sword. And while he's all 'welp, looks like I don't have the right to wield it!' Gieve is absolutely fucking enraged by the fact that Hilmes could draw the sword and yet Arslan can't. Gieve = not the greatest fan of Kaykhusraw's judgement, lmao.

The next section is interesting. After things are briefly disrupted by the tremors of an earthquake that soon dies down, discussion continues, and despite Arslan's recognition that his bloodline gives him no right to the throne, he's not backing down.

This panel... The fact that the (harmless) earthquake started up right when Gieve was trashtalking Kaykhusraw, lmao. Feels like the Hero King's spirit was putting Gieve in his place, ahaha.

The fact that he says this while looking down at Rukhnabad... I think this panel is conveying not only that he's not prepared to give it (and Pars) up to anyone else even if they can wield it and he can't, but also that the sword's function as a (protective) object of importance to Pars is more important than having it in his possession.

Is it possible that he will try and return the sword to Kaykhusraw's mausoleum instead? Sure, Zahhak is out already but maybe it will quell the earthquakes. This would set up nicely for a scene that is the inverse of Hilmes taking Rukhnabad from the sarcophagus, where Arslan instead tries to replace it and in the process of doing so proves himself worthy of wielding it.

And if Team Arslan try to place it in the sarcophagus itself (assuming they can still access it after the big earthquake back then?) they'll see the absence of Kaykhusraw's body and understand it has become a vessel for Zahhak.

(I feel like I want that realisation saved for Hilmes, though. He's seen Kaykhusraw's remains before, and I want him to see them again and realise what he's done... Sure, multiple parties can come to the same conclusion but I feel like that would be a great one off moment of 'oh FUCK')

That's the first half of the chapter. You know what, I'm going to split my post into two parts, so stay tuned for the next one.

[tenaciouschronicler]

August 2 and 3 2024 2009

I fear I really will need to put all my posts into a word doc.

Lets work through the lore shall we.

So, back on page 251 when the Kernel divided it 'hatched' upon arrival to The Medium. These Kernels, one light and one dark, upon situating themselves in their respective Orbs activate the Imps present giving them characteristics from the prototyping, in this case harlequin clothing.

Im gonna put the rest under the cut, this post got away from me.

Again working from top to bottom, These Orbs are situated upon one of Four Spires which make up the throne of either sides Sovereign Power; the Dark throne is purple while the Light throne is gold. The first Kernels arrival is the catalyst that starts the 'true game', increasing the board to a 12x12, adding more pieces and actually placing the kings on opposite corners. Light is also always destined to lose. Im curious if each game can only be played by four players or if only the first four are placed in the spires and subsequesnt players dont have any effect on the Sovereign Powers? Could you play with less than four players and how would that game play out?

John and WV both wonder what the point is then if Light always loses and Nanna says that is The Ultimate Riddle they have to solve.

This part made me remember way back on page 82 when the narrator said:

The game presently eluding you is only the latest sleight of hand in the repertoire of an unseen riddler, one to engender a sense not of mirth, but of lack. His coarse schemes are those less of a prankster than a common pickpocket.

His riddle is Absence itself. It is a mystery dispersing altogether, like the moon's faint reflection, with even one pebble of inquiry dropped in its black well. It is the most diabolical riddle of all.

At the time I wrote, "Googling Absence gives us "the state of being away from a place or person". So his riddle is a state of being away from others... I feel like the following statement gives more but I cant discern what." Could this be The Ultimate Riddle Nanna is refering to? I still cant tell what the riddle is, maybe after I put all the Lore together I can at least try to add more to this. (After stepping back and re-reading it I figured out the 'diabolical riddle'; the nature of Absence is transitory and evanescent, here one moment gone the next. Looking for answers only serves to hasten its absence, obscuring itself with more questions.)

For now, John has to climb towards Skia by passing through the gates utilizing the games building funtion to reach. In that way he can save Dad! And what about Earth?

Nanna drops the bombshell that Earth is done for, regardless of how well they do in this game.

Finally done with her duty, Nanna heads off to bake John cookies! For the first time we see her phase through the walls leaving blue goo on the Con Air poster. We didnt see her doing that earlier but maybe theres more goo around the house.

WV is All About them cookies and pushes John to pursue. We learn John hates any and all baked goods "totally abjur[ing] the hell out of that idea."

Roses Pesterchum image is annoyed now, having tried to get Johns attention this whole time and is now trying to use a box to the head.

Unfortunately for her I think this is Johns last straw and hes having a well deserved scream. After everything hes gone through and learned, I think he needs it.

In the meantime and probably against better judgement, theres still a fire raging Rose, shes gonna update the GameFAQ. And apparently get sassed by a dead cat. It's pretty much all his fault you're in this mess in the first place, so he can just button it.

Whatever you say Rose.

[dailyanarchistposts]

B.6 But won’t decisions made by individuals with their own money be the best?

This question refers to an argument commonly used by capitalists to justify the fact that investment decisions are removed from public control under capitalism, with private investors making all the decisions. Clearly the assumption behind this argument is that individuals suddenly lose their intelligence when they get together and discuss their common interests. But surely, through debate, we can enrich our ideas by social interaction. In the marketplace we do not discuss but instead act as atomised individuals.

This issue involves the “Isolation Paradox,” according to which the very logic of individual decision-making is different from that of collective decision-making. An example is the “tyranny of small decisions.” Let us assume that in the soft drink industry some companies start to produce (cheaper) non-returnable bottles. The end result of this is that most, if not all, the companies making returnable bottles lose business and switch to non-returnables. Result? Increased waste and environmental destruction.

This is because market price fails to take into account social costs and benefits, indeed it mis-estimates them for both buyer/seller and to others not involved in the transaction. This is because, as Schumacher points out, the “strength of the idea of private enterprise lies in its terrifying simplicity. It suggests that the totality of life can be reduced to one aspect — profits...” [Small is Beautiful, p. 215] But life cannot be reduced to one aspect without impoverishing it and so capitalism “knows the price of everything but the value of nothing.”

Therefore the market promotes “the tyranny of small decisions” and this can have negative outcomes for those involved. The capitalist “solution” to this problem is no solution, namely to act after the event. Only after the decisions have been made and their effects felt can action be taken. But by then the damage has been done. Can suing a company really replace a fragile eco-system? In addition, the economic context has been significantly altered, because investment decisions are often difficult to unmake.

In other words, the operations of the market provide an unending source of examples for the argument that the aggregate results of the pursuit of private interest may well be collectively damaging. And as collectives are made up of individuals, that means damaging to the individuals involved. The remarkable ideological success of “free market” capitalism is to identify the anti-social choice with self-interest, so that any choice in the favour of the interests which we share collectively is treated as a piece of self-sacrifice. However, by atomising decision making, the market often actively works against the self-interest of the individuals that make it up.

Game theory is aware that the sum of rational choices do not automatically yield a rational group outcome. Indeed, it terms such situations as “collective action” problems. By not agreeing common standards, a “race to the bottom” can ensue in which a given society reaps choices that we as individuals really don’t want. The rational pursuit of individual self-interest leaves the group, and so most individuals, worse off. The problem is not bad individual judgement (far from it, the individual is the only person able to know what is best for them in a given situation). It is the absence of social discussion and remedies that compels people to make unbearable choices because the available menu presents no good options.

By not discussing the impact of their decisions with everyone who will be affected, the individuals in question have not made a better decision. Of course, under our present highly centralised statist and capitalist system, such a discussion would be impossible to implement, and its closest approximation — the election process — is too vast, bureaucratic and dominated by wealth to do much beyond passing a few toothless laws which are generally ignored when they hinder profits.

However, let’s consider what the situation would be like under libertarian socialism, where the local community assemblies discuss the question of returnable bottles along with the workforce. Here the function of specific interest groups (such as consumer co-operatives, ecology groups, workplace Research and Development action committees and so on) would play a critical role in producing information. Knowledge, as Bakunin, Kropotkin, etc. knew, is widely dispersed throughout society and the role of interested parties is essential in making it available to others. Based upon this information and the debate it provokes, the collective decision reached would most probably favour returnables over waste. This would be a better decision from a social and ecological point of view, and one that would benefit the individuals who discussed and agreed upon its effects on themselves and their society.

In other words, anarchists think we have to take an active part in creating the menu as well as picking options from it which reflect our individual tastes and interests.

It needs to be emphasised that such a system does not involve discussing and voting on everything under the sun, which would paralyse all activity. To the contrary, most decisions would be left to those interested (e.g. workers decide on administration and day-to-day decisions within the factory), the community decides upon policy (e.g. returnables over waste). Neither is it a case of electing people to decide for us, as the decentralised nature of the confederation of communities ensures that power lies in the hands of local people.

This process in no way implies that “society” decides what an individual is to consume. That, like all decisions affecting the individual only, is left entirely up to the person involved. Communal decision-making is for decisions that impact both the individual and society, allowing those affected by it to discuss it among themselves as equals, thus creating a rich social context within which individuals can act. This is an obvious improvement over the current system, where decisions that often profoundly alter people’s lives are left to the discretion of an elite class of managers and owners, who are supposed to “know best.”

There is, of course, the danger of “tyranny of the majority” in any democratic system, but in a direct libertarian democracy, this danger would be greatly reduced, for reasons discussed in section I.5.6 ( Won’t there be a danger of a “tyranny of the majority” under libertarian socialism?).

[realm-of-the-occult]

guide to tarot

general information ;

- 78 cards in total

- every card has two different meanings based on if they're reversed or not

- sometimes reversed cards reflect the original meaning in a more bad/evil way

the lesser/minor arcana

- 56 cards

- divided into cups, swords, wands and pentacles

- they answer questions of everyday life, they are advisors and their meanings are not as drastic as the cards of the major arcana

- every section of the minor arcana consists of king, queen, knight, page, 10, 9, 8, (...) and ace (of the section)

the major arcana

- 22 cards

- they answer questions about people, the universe, power, magick and myths

0 - The Fool

folly, mania, extravagance, intoxication, delirium, frenzy

reversed: negligence, absence, distribution, carelessness, apathy, vanity

1 - The Magician

skill, address sickness, pain, loss, disaster, self-confidence

reversed: mental illness, disgrace

2 - The High Priestess

secrets, mystery, the future as yet unrevealed

reversed: passion moral or physical ardor, conceit & surface knowledge

3 - The Empress

fruitfulness, initiative, the unknown, difficulty doubt, ignorance

reversed: light, truth, public rejoice

4 - The Emperor

stability, power, aid, protection, a great person

reversed: benevolence, compassion, immaturity

5 - The Hierophant

marriage, alliance, captivity, servitude, mercy, goodness, inspiration

reversed: society, good understanding, concord, over-kindness, weakness

6 - The Lovers

attraction and love, beauty

reversed: failure

7 - The Chariot

war, triumph, vengeance, trouble

reversed: riot, quarrel, dispute, defeat

8 - Strength

power, energy, action, courage

reversed: abuse of power, weakness

9 - The Hermit

prudence, treason, corruption

reversed: concealment, disguise, fear, unreasoned caution

10 - Wheel Of Fortune

destiny, fortune, success, luck, felicity

reversed: abundance, superfluity

11 - Justice

equity, rightness, probity

reversed: excessive severity, law in all departments

12 - The Hanged Man

wisdom, sacrifice, intuition, divination, prophecy

reversed: selfishness, a crowd

13 - Death

end, mortality, destruction, corruption

reversed: sleep, lethargy

14 - Temperance

economy, management, accomodation, moderstion

reversed: things connected with the church, religions, sects, cults

15 - The Devil

inner conflict with oneself, ravage, force, fatality

reversed: evil fatality, weakness, pettiness, blindness

16 - The Tower

misery, distress, ruin, calamity, disgrace, deception

reversed: the same but in a lesser degree

17 - The Star

loss, theft, privation, abandonment

reversed: arrogance, impotence

18 - The Moon

hidden enemies, danger, calumny, darkness, terror, error

reversed: instability, silence

19 - The Sun

material happiness, fortunate marriage, contentment

reversed: the same but in a lesser degree

20 - The Last Judgement

change of position, renewal, outcome

reversed: weakness, simplicity, sentence

21 - The World

assured success, route, voyage, emigration, flight, change of place

reversed: stagnation, permanence

sources and other articles

answering yes or no questions with tarot

thoth tarot deck vs rider waite smith - how do they compare?

easy guide for a rider waite based reading

other tarot guides

/ written by @occultem

[astrangergivingthestrangewelcome]

I think that people who adapt Dracula prefer Van Helsing as Dracula's opposer because he's a more dynamic character. Jonathan is passive and compliant from the start. And while he does find the boxes, he's obeying Van Helsing's orders to do so. And after this he follows his lead instead of he himself leading the crew to save his wife. Van Helsing is active and leads throughout since his first appearance and vehemently reveals vampiric weaknesses so to kill Dracula. Naturally, he overshadows Jonathan (and the rest) in being the nemesis of vampirism.

Okay look I am not going to get my panties in a twist about adapting Van Helsing vs. Dracula, in my own fic I invent a lil' vampire hunting past for VH bc I mean it's fun, and it makes more sense than the book's assertation that he figured out it was vampirism as he went. And I get your point about how VH is the leader of the group, not Jonathan, and it's natural to pit leader against nemesis, but also I disagree that this naturally overshadows Jonathan.

First of all I deeply completely totally with my WHOLE ASS soul hate "Jonathan is passive and compliant from the start" bc... he's not. He's not passive he's not passive he's not passive! Not like being passive is a dirty word, Lucy and Arthur are both passive as fuck and I love them to bits- but if Jonathan were actually a passive character he never would have made it out of Dracula's castle. Being an active character doesn't mean you are always the leader, and it doesn't mean you don't listen to others and bow to their judgement from time to time. An active character, takes action within the plot of their own volition, while a more passive character waits for things to happen to them.

Jonathan is a very active character in the castle. He's not sitting around and waiting for death, he is hatching schemes and plots to get himself the fuck out, he's exploring and trying to get a sense of his surroundings, he's writing letters and trying to send them surrupticiously, he's paying attention when the Count speaks to try and see if there are clues there, he's looking for a key, he's climbing the walls to try and get into the Count's chamber, he's hitting the Count with a shovel, he's escaping. It's also important to me to notice that he is active from the beginning. Before the brides scene, when he just thinks that the Count is deeply unnatural and that he is being held prisoner he is already trying to think his way out.

I think the reason people think he's a passive character is because he is obligated to play along with the Count's act and bow to his wishes but that's just the context of his situation. You wouldn't call someone passive for following the instructions of someone holding them at gunpoint. He has to submit to the Count if he wants to live... and every chance he gets he looks for a way out.

Once he leaves the castle, it's actually the passivity that's killing him. Mina is I think more of a leader than Jonathan, but they both despise situtations where they can't take action. Mina was off the walls when she had no way to search for Jonathan, and Jonathan is just wilting and stagnating bc his mind will not allow him to accept his experiences as real, so he can't work through them. It's not passivity, it's trauma. Giving Mina the journal, instead of reading it himself, that's trauma. That's not how he acts most of the novel, its directly after a nervous breakdown.

In this Van Helsing does give him the push he needs, but it's not a "go do this" it's more of just a "you're not crazy." As soon as Jonathan feels confident again he is off doing things. Van Helsing asks him for help of course, but that's as specific as he gets. It's Jonathan who takes all the initiative to go to Whitby, come back with info, look up Thomas Snelling come back with info. I am sure in Jonathan's absence some one of the polycule would have done this task, but it's Jonathan that took the damn initiative. Not to mention the singlemindedness with which he pursues Dracula after he attacks Mina. Jonathan Harker is a team player, and he works with the polycule and takes instruction when he feels he is not the authority, but that doesn't make him passive.

Jonathan Harker is not a great leader of men, or a great man, or even a very memorable one, he is quiet and plain and his life's ambition is to earn a comfortable living and have a family- but that doesn't make him passive. At all points in the novel except for his trauma-coma time he is constantly taking initiative to try and solve his problems, he does not wait to be told what to do. That's why he's an active character.

In the novel itself he's there to take revenge and bring Dracula to justice. His rage is in my opinion more palpable than Van Helsing, who is angry certainly (I can think of a few monologues to that effect), but whose actions I would argue are more constantly rooted in a sense of duty and compassion. Jonathan is 10x more fiery than Van Helsing. All that is in the source material and it's so vivid and yet the directors Do Not See It and I don't get it. I don't get why there is the opinion that Jonathan is passive when I read the novel and he literally never was????

[fake-f1-news]

Andretti Banned "Because They'd Be Too Fast"

Andretti's recent attempt to join the F1 grid from 2025 was rejected because F1 "feared they would be too quick", dffsadg understands.

"When F1 announced the news, they claimed that Andretti would not "be a competitive participant". Total poppycock, of course, as demonstrated by the newest F1 team, Haas, who finished 2023 last in the constructors championship for the 2nd time in 3 seasons. The only logical explanation is that F1 found some evidence that Andretti would be far too competitive straight away, which they could never allow!" claimed F1 fan Flibberts McGee.

"Call me a conspiracy theorist all you like, but think about it. How embarrassing would it be for F1, if a new team joined, and immediately started winning races? That would give potential future F1 teams hope, and we can't have that! Hope that they could be competitive in the sport. Hope that they won't be 3 seconds off the pace of the next best car, as was the case with the 3 teams that joined F1 in 2010. And don't forget to pay your exorbitant entrance fee, designed to bankrupt new teams before their first race!"

F1 officials seeing Andretti cars pulling away from Max Verstappen in their 3rd race.

When these comments were put to F1 insiders, F1 responded:

"You should all be glad that we rejected Andretti. Back in the olden days, any old bastard could rock up to the circuit, and attempt to qualify their shitty cars. There was even that shoe company that effectively tried to kill one of their drivers in 1992. Just be grateful these idiots can no longer drive their shitboxes willy nilly. We're just trying to protect the sport from unprepared teams. Are Andretti REALLY ready for F1? McLaren thought Michael Andretti was ready in 1993, and look how that turned out. Do you really think 30+ years out of the sport is enough time to prepare to return?! Also, Andretti's refusal to insert the line "We're Andretti, we've eaten too much spaghetti, and we're full of regretti" in their application/initial pitch was a disgusting oversight by the owners/upper management, and the line's absence immediately showed questionable judgement from the team."

[missfreija]

louis for the ask meme ❤️

favorite thing about them: his tendency to react with great fervor only to the topics that interest him, his love for literature, his reverence for life only after becoming a vampire, his emotional vulnerability and weird moral principles, his introspective and anguished narrative, his physical appearance lol i like that the author wrote him as a sort of naive dramatic romantic mc.

least favorite thing about them: he is so judgemental. (real answer: his almost total absence after iwtv. I need a trilogy slice of life from his pov lol)

favorite line: 'The great adventure of our lives. What does it mean to die when you can live until the end of the world? and what is 'the end of the world' except a phrase, because who knows even what is the world itself? I had now lived in two centuries, seen the illusions of one shattered by the other, been eternally young and eternally ancient, possessing no illusions, living moment to moment in a way that made me picture a silver clock ticking in a void: the painted face, the delicately carved hands looked upon by no one, looking out at no one, illuminated by a light which was not a light, like the light by which god made the world before He had made light. Ticking, ticking, ticking, the precision of the clock, in a room as vast as the universe'

brOTP: david (basically canon, they often live together for years between memnoch and post merrick, they seem to have a mutual admiration and sometimes david can kiss his maker's husband ahah), gabrielle (a girl can dream lol i wanted more interactions between them), armand in tg era, and i think marius would be a good friend for louis. marius likes louis right away in qotd and once louis got over his reverential fear of the roman they could often discuss about art and other interesting topics. I think louis would get along with almost all the cast

OTP: lestat

(honorable mention under the section 'emotional relationship that made me cry a lot' for louis and claudia <3)

nOTP: i don't Hate them but i've never been a fan of armand/louis

random headcanon: 1) when he was human his only sexual experiences were with prostitutes, he never had a lover. 2) he is a decent billiards player. 3) during the nineteenth century he read and enjoyed penny dreadfuls. 4) even in the present sometimes he confuses words and mixes French and English

unpopular opinion: i dont know, people only talk about show!louis (and i couldn't care less about that version of the character...) or how they hate him in the books.

i like to think that his angsty reunion with lestat at the end of iwtv happened in 1920/'30 (we know that Lestat affirms that this fact never happened and that Louis only spied him from the windows but I don't really like this explanation sooo I prefer to believe louis' version and to think that lestat lied or doesn't remember lol).

i don't know if it's an unpopular opinion but i noticed that many fans love his character development/glow up post merrick (having accepted his nature and no longer being sooo weak) but I have always been a bit perplexed about this event, in the narrative his resurrection is rushed and shallow, to me it felt basically just a pretext to awaken lestat (even his chapter at the end of pl is so...random and out of context but ok). on the other hand I'm happy that Louis got some peace and happiness after so much suffering but the (offscreen) process that led to this change disappointed me

him being the 'royal consort' in the final books gives me second hand embarrassment lol

song i associate with them: saint bernard - lincoln, california - lana del rey, his Canonic Song aka moon over bourbon street - sting

favorite picture of them: there are so many amazing fanart 🫶🏻

i love this artist - this - this

[broomsick]

for the ask game- pluto + morrigan

Pluto: Where do you think we go when we die?

Morrigan: What do you think happens when we die?

These types of questions are always the toughest ones for me to answer. That's because I'm not one to dwell on toughts of death often. It's both a hard topic, and a complicated one for me to think about. The possibilities seem so endless that it's almost dizzying. I'm heavily interested in all things theology, and I do have opinions on a lot of topics that concern it. However, talk of an afterlife, or absence of it, has never really been my cup of tea. I have not researched it much in the past! To put it simply, my opinions on the matter are rather unclear (disappointingly so!). Nordic tradition gives us a truckload of different- and often conflicting- possible destinations for the souls of the dead. So many in fact, that it's near impossible to integrate all of them into one's spirituality.

I was never one to give a lot of credit to the idea of reincarnation, but I'm open to the concept. One of my close heathen friends is a firm believer in past lives, and I trust her judgement, but still, it's not a concept that's easy for me to fathom. Although if I were to consult a medium or another spiritual worker at some point, I would definitely ask what they believe my past lives could have been! Just out of curiosity.

Before I became pagan, I was pretty sure that death was a complete end. To me, it meant total emptiness in the most atheistic sense. However, theologically-speaking, to believe in the divine often leads to three other obligatory concepts: that humans have some kind of "reason" for being, that there is a soul and that therefore, there is an afterlife. Even if those two latter points are tighty dependent on one another, the idea of "soul" is still quite hazy to me and, I'm sure, to many other theists. For this reason, I'm still juggling with the different possibilities of what an "afterlife" might look like. Though I was never Christian, I'm quite aware of the concept of an afterlife where the "good" go, and one where the "bad" are sent. It's not something I'm very fond of, and since to me, nothing is ever truly black or white, I doubt that an afterlife would be so subjective and uncompromising. That's why I generally envision the afterlife as being a "second life" of sorts. Helheim is sometimes described in a similar way, and to me, it's not a realm of punishment but rather of life, ironically enough.

Around bonfires or at restaurant tables, me and a few of my heathen friends sometimes bring up Valhalla. If we've had a long week, or if we're going through difficult moments, we joke around and go: "At least we'll go to Valhalla in the end!". It's a vision of the afterlife that I'm very fond of, and despite it not being very popular in norse pagan online spaces, it's comforting to me. Details of Valhalla have become many with time, with the fighting and the general military vibe of it having grown out of proportions with each work, for effect. But in the end, to me at least, Valhalla comes down to two major points: you get to meet the Gods you have worshipped, and you get to reunite with loved ones who have passed, to have fun without worries. "But Valhalla is not the norse heaven!" I'm quite aware of this, and it's something I myself have posted about in the past. I'm not suggesting a sort of "perfect realm" of pure joy, but rather an afterlife where it's possible for one to enjoy the joys of life, even in death. I'm aware that this vision of the afterlife conflicts with the very neutral "second life" I mentionned earlier. See it this way: this second life of sorts, which is neither "good" nor "bad", can carry my hopes of a happy afterlife. And since we'll never truly know what comes after death, I believe that we're allowed to hope. This might make me sound idealistic, but hope is still crucial to me! Both in my life and within my spirituality.