#thought this would be funny to post without it

[glossdebut]

take a bite: remastered | MYG ★ 1

✧��PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Your fledgling career as a music journalist is finally going in some kind of direction that must be on the path to success. Your coworkers like you enough to invite you out on Fridays, your boss is starting to think you’re competent enough to let you score a few bylines, and you’re finally getting the hang of InDesign. All of your hard work, late nights, and complete lack of a social life are starting to pay off… Even if it all came at the expense of the longest relationship of your life. Fine. You’ve accepted the fact that romance isn’t for you, under any circumstances. You won’t risk your career for anybody. Not even Min Yoongi.

✧ SERIES TAGS: (kind of) slow burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, producer!yoongi, music journalist!reader, neighbors to friends to lovers? you’ll see, reader is bad at feelings, reader is post-break up, now back and better than ever (excluding yijeong's bitchass)

✧ CHAPTER TAGS/WARNINGS: social drinking, mechanical bull-related injuries lol

✧ WORDCOUNT: 3k

✧ STATUS: complete

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: OH MY GOD! i've been working on editing this monster for MONTHS now and i'm finally done. in case you're new here, take a bite was the first fic i ever posted back in september 2024! i love this series to bits and pieces, and during my hiatus, i decided to go back through it and make changes to exclude yijeong from the plot + make some edits + add some bonus scenes! i hope that those of you who enjoyed the original series love this version just as much, because i'm so proud of how it turned out <3 i couldn't have done any of it without my friends @ggukivrse @ktownshizzle and @yoonmetogether who kindly beta read the whole series over and over as i made changes! i love every single one of you. thank you for loving this couple so much.

p.s. this series is being uploaded in scheduled posts, so some of the navigation links/masterlist changes will not work until i get a chance to add them later! search the tag 'take a bite: remastered' if you're having trouble finding anything!

p.p.s. happy father’s day to min yoongi the father of my children

CH. 1: turn a bad night to a good time

You can’t help but think to yourself that you should invest in some cowboy boots. You could make them work, you’re sure of it.

Even if you know you would never pull the trigger on purchasing any, too far out of the comfort zone of your normal style, the thought is the only thing keeping you sane—that, and the sound of Cowboy Carter blasting through the speakers of the bar, a welcome reprieve from the drawling country anthems you’ve been suffering through for the past hour or so. 

You pride yourself on seeing the merit in all genres of music, you do. You’ve always been the type of person to puff up your chest with pride when you tell people, ‘I listen to everything,’ uncaring of how pretentious it may sound. You mean it. It’s an asset in your line of work, and as far as you’re concerned, a little bit of pretentiousness is a small price to pay for the, quite frankly, baller route your fledgling career is heading in. 

But a western bar? Not the kind of place you’d spend a Friday night willingly. Your typical Friday involves you hunched over your laptop, drowning in deadlines, or—on a rare night where you clock out before midnight—re-watching Gilmore Girls and mentally compiling your latest thesis on why Rory is, objectively, the worst. 

That was the plan tonight, before you were intercepted on your way out of the office.

It’s not that you don’t like your coworkers. They’re fine. Smart, capable, occasionally even funny. It’s just… Gilmore Girls nights are sacred to you. You were finally getting to the Jess of it all.

But, after months of skillfully avoiding the weekly Friday nights out with the other rookie reporters at the magazine, you’d run out of excuses not to join them. If four years studying communications taught you anything, it was that connections are everything in the journalism business. Especially music journalism.

So here you are, at your fourth stop of your night of bar hopping with your extroverted and extremely drunk coworkers, nursing warm beer and observing from the least populated corner you managed to scout upon entry. 

You’ve been a good sport. You really have. You cheered. You clapped. You downed cheap tequila shots and even suffered through holding an intern’s hair back in a borderline-biohazardous bathroom. But you draw the line at square dancing. College may have beaten most of the awkward out of you, but you still have your limits. Your social battery can only take so much.

Your phone battery, too, you think bitterly as you stare down at the taunting sliver of red in the corner of your screen. 

Okay, so you’ll finish your shitty beer—because you’re not quite successful enough yet to afford wasting alcohol that you’re paying for—and then use your phone’s remaining juice to catch an Uber home. No biggie.

You’re mid-motion, locking your screen, just starting to mentally rehearse your exit strategy when you realize, with no small amount of irritation, that your chosen corner is about to be invaded.

Your eyes land on a pair of black Jordans (in a western bar? your mind supplies, as if you have any room to judge in your Docs) and travel up, past torn black jeans and a black shirt. The monochrome theme continues all the way up to a head of (regrettably, very nice) black hair and a pair of the darkest eyes you’ve ever seen. Anish Kapoor would wail at the sight of these eyes, you think.

As if sensing your apprehension, your corner-thief raises his free hand (the other clutching a plastic cup of his own) palm out, as if to say ‘I come in peace’, and stops dead in his tracks.

“I can find another spot,” your corner-thief says, the low rumbling of his voice barely audible above Texas Hold ‘Em. “I’m just waiting for one of my friends to get bored or injured so I can leave.”

“Injured,” you echo, blinking. That… was not the word you were expecting.

You mean to shrug, maybe give a nod to let him pass. But something about his word choice throws you. Plus, your phone is dead, your beer is flat, and this guy is—if nothing else—much easier on the eyes than the beer pong bros you’ve been observing for the last forty-five minutes.

Corner-thief grins a (stupidly charming) gummy smile, leaning just the slightest bit closer to be heard better, but still keeping a respectful distance. As if he’s still wary that you’ll lunge at him if he encroaches on your space any further. Good man.

“There’s a mechanical bull upstairs,” he clarifies, using his index finger on the hand holding his cup to point at the ceiling above you both.

Of course there is. With your luck, you’ll also have to peel someone off the floor later after going head-to-head with the bull.

"Not your thing?" you guess, glancing pointedly at his Jordans, and he shakes his head, huffing through his nose in mirth.

"No, I wouldn’t say so." 

He pauses, shifting from foot to foot for a moment before speaking again. "So, will you share your wall? I can look around again but this place is more packed than I would’ve pegged it for."

You nod and he smiles again thankfully, taking the spot on the wall next to you. 

That should be it. Two strangers who don’t want to be here standing in companionable silence while they wait for their people—your coworkers, his friends—to put them out of their misery and let them go home.

But… 

You consider your options, and as your phone takes its dying breath in your pocket, you sigh, turning to him.

"Y/N," you say, extending a hand.

He takes it in his free one, eyebrow raising in amusement as he shakes. "Yoongi."

"What’s that look for?"

Yoongi laughs again, more full this time, and your heart does a stupid, funny thing in your chest. "I don’t think I’ve ever been greeted by a pretty girl in a bar with a handshake," he says.

You practically yank your hand back, your face heating as you bring your drink to your lips in an attempt to recover. Of course.

A western bar certainly isn’t your scene, but admittedly, neither are bars or clubs in general. You got all of that out of your system in college where everyone was awkward as fuck or too drunk to care that you were, and ever since you got your degree you have lived and breathed your work. Your social skills were never quite up to par, but you didn’t realize you were this fucking embarrassing.

"I came out with coworkers right after we got off, so I think I’m still kind of in work mode," you lie, and as if sensing that you feel slightly made fun of, Yoongi shakes his head.

"I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, swear," he says, tilting his head at you. Dark eyes considering you. "Honestly, I’m thankful you’re putting up with me at all. I don’t think I’d be so kind if the roles were reversed. I know firsthand how hard it is to find a spot to breathe in places like this."

You let out a small laugh, relaxing just a little. "I almost did. But my heart breaks for a fellow introvert without a hiding place."

"At least I’m out with friends," he says sympathetically. "I’ve done the coworker thing before. It’s a drag."

"It’s weird," you correct. "I mean, I sit in meetings with these people. I avoid answering their emails all day. Why is it considered rude to not want to see them piss drunk?"

Yoongi hums in agreement, nodding his head. "What do you do, anyway?"

"I work for Look Here magazine," you say, standing a little straighter when his eyes light up with recognition. He angles toward you, shoulder brushing the wall, and you mirror him. "I’m a staff writer for the music section."

"No shit? I’ve probably read your stuff, then," Yoongi says, grinning. 

He’s cute. Hot. Charming. You can’t help but notice, no matter how hard you’re trying not to. Particularly, the way that he seems to carry himself might end up driving you crazy if you’re exposed to it for too long. Maybe you’ve been living under a rock, but you’ve never met a fellow wallflower who manages to exude such confidence—the kind that doesn’t overpower, just lingers in the air like cologne.

He wears it insanely well.

"Look Here covers a lot of big artists," Yoongi continues, snapping you out of your thoughts. "I’m a little surprised you’re hugging the wall, honestly. This place is nothing compared to music industry parties."

"Ah, I only started a few months ago," you admit sheepishly, looking down into your cup. "Not a lot of bylines yet. I haven’t made it into a room with an artist that big."

"But you want to," he guesses, and you nod, looking up to meet his eyes. He looks impressed, impressed by you, and that… does something to you. Huh. "Shit, that’s… That’s really cool."

"Thanks," you say. You can feel your cheeks heating up again, and you’re suddenly very eager to turn the attention away from yourself. "What about you? What do you do?"

"Ah," Yoongi says, fixing his eyes to his cup just as you had a moment ago. "I’m a music producer, actually."

You perk up at that. So that’s why he reads Look Here, why he seemed so interested when you told him what you do. 

"Anything I’ve heard?" you ask, leaning in like he’s about to tell you a secret. Networking never stops.

He watches as you lean, his mouth turning up at the corners in a smirk. "Probably." 

You wait for more, but it doesn’t come. Shithead. So much for that.

"You’ve gotta give me more than that," you say, and god, you can hear the pout in your own voice. Are you that drunk? Flirting for a lead in a story?

"I don’t," Yoongi says simply, his smirk in full force now. Mean and annoying and hot. He hasn’t leaned away from you yet. "I want to know more about you, actually. Journalism is hard work. I’m surprised you have time to go out like this."

"Like I said, I was forced."

"Still. Spending time with your friends or family or partner or whatever must take priority when it comes to your free time."

Why is he asking? You squint at him, trying to parse his angle. But your drink loosens your lips before your brain can object. It’s not like you’ll ever see him again, anyway.

"My family is back home. My best friend is this insanely talented playwright. She’s constantly traveling. I see her when she can get some time to fly out. Otherwise, it’s just me. And dating…" You take a quick sip of your drink, ignoring the pang in your chest. Sometimes it sneaks up on you, how lonely you are. You shrug. "People don’t get the job. It always ends in hurt feelings."

There’s a long pause, and you’re worried you’ve shared too much. You’re enjoying talking to Yoongi. You know it doesn’t matter, that you’ll likely never see him again, but it would really, really suck if his permanent mental image of you ends up being ‘lonely weird drunk girl,’ even if that’s what you are. You force yourself to look up at him. The look in his eyes makes your heart flip stupidly again.

"I get that," he says, and his voice is soft, barely audible over the music filling the space. You’re reading his lips more than anything, honestly, and you don’t let yourself look at them for too long. He may be pretty—unbearably so, you’re realizing—but he’s a stranger. A mean, annoying, hot, pretty stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. Every guy says he gets it. 

This needs to stay what it is, you think. Momentary companionship between introverts who would rather die than square dance.

You don’t get much time to agonize over it. Whatever is going on between you and Yoongi is quickly interrupted by his phone buzzing in his pocket, and his responding grimace when he pulls it out to check it.

"Namjoon fell off of the mechanical bull," he says, like he’s completely unsurprised by that news. He downs the rest of his drink and pockets his phone again, pushing off of the wall. "I’ve gotta deal with that."

You nod, pulling what you hope is a sympathetic face. "Good luck."

His bottom lip catches between his teeth, and you hold your breath. He looks like he wants to say something, torn between rushing upstairs to save his friend and staying, just for a moment.

You think you know what he wants to say, think foolishly that maybe he wants to ask for your number, and you honestly don’t know if you’d give it to him if he did. You’re so used to saying no.

He runs his fingers through his hair, opens his mouth to speak, and then he looks down like his phone is buzzing again. When he looks back up, it seems like he’s thought better of it.

"Thanks for sharing your wall," he settles on, smiling congenially. You smile back, and then he’s heading towards the stairs.

Good, you think. You know better. If he really gets it, he does too.

★ ★ ★

You get dragged to one more bar before you make it home. You’re not sure how you agreed to it, but you choose to blame it on the warmth in your chest left behind by that conversation, those dark eyes, that stupid, infuriatingly charming gummy smile. In a matter of minutes, a complete stranger had knocked you just far enough off balance to keep saying yes when you meant no.

And maybe that wasn’t the worst thing—your coworkers seem to like you more tonight. There’s a lightness between you all now, easier conversations, inside jokes beginning to form. It’s nice. Worth it, maybe.

But by the time your Uber spits you out in front of your building, you're deeply regretting all the different kinds of alcohol swirling around and threatening a coup in your stomach. You shuffle into the elevator dizzy-drunk, fighting to stay upright, the hums and clangs of the old machinery doing nothing to help the way the world spins.

You lean against the back wall, head lolling slightly, as the floor numbers creep by like they’re in no rush at all. Your reflection stares back at you in the smudged metal paneling. Hair a mess. Lipstick long gone. A zit 100% forming on your chin.

Great.

The elevator dings. You stumble out, already digging through your bag with one hand, the other dragging along the wall for balance. You’re sure you put your keys in here. Or maybe in your coat pocket?

"Come on," you mutter, your fingers brushing everything except what you need—lip balm, receipts, your emergency tampon—before they finally find purchase around your keys.

You’re fumbling and failing at getting your key into the lock of your front door, tongue poking out of the corner of your mouth in concentration, when a voice calling your name a few feet to your right almost makes you jump out of your skin.

You yell, clutching your chest, and when you turn to face the owner of the voice that almost made you lose the contents of your stomach on your doormat, you’re greeted by none other than corner-thief-mean-annoying-hot-pretty Yoongi himself, leaning against the door to the apartment two doors down from yours.

"What the fuck," you blurt out dumbly, and he laughs. At you! How dare he stand there, lean there, all hot and annoying and in your apartment building for some fucking reason and laugh at you?

"I was going to ask if you needed help," he says, and oh, fuck. You were safe from just how deep his voice was under the thrum of the music at the bar, but in the quiet of your apartment building this late, you can hear it just fine. Feel it, even. Feel it in places you do not want to humor right now. "I’m going to take a wild guess and say you do."

It’s obvious that Yoongi is faring much better than you are, although his night clearly didn’t end after the mechanical bull incident. He gently takes the key from your hand, brushing your fingers with his, and with a single turn—click. The door unlocks like it always does, like it’s easy.

"Gonna make it in okay?" he asks, looking down at you. You force your brain to make words.

"I’ll be okay," you assure him, your tongue heavy in your mouth. "Are you stalking me?"

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. "I think we’re neighbors."

"Oh." Oh. Okay. That’s fine. Just because he’s your neighbor doesn’t mean you have to do something stupid, like see him ever again.

"Give me your number," he says softly. Oh.

You blink at him, and he grins. Gummy smile. You feel like you’re going to vomit all over his Jordans.

"In case you ever can’t use your keys again," he clarifies, his tone low and teasing. "I told you, those music industry parties are killer."

And really, you’re powerless to resist. You give him your number, using all of your remaining brain power to remember the order of the digits. Seemingly satisfied, Yoongi pockets his phone and steps back, heading back to his front door.

"Goodnight, neighbor," he says, unlocking his door with ease. "Sleep on your side."

You swallow thickly and nod, slipping inside your own apartment as quickly as you can manage. 

Once you’re in, you sink onto the floor, your back pressed against the door behind you. Your cat Pepper, perched on your coffee pot, stares at you in your drunk, flustered state, unimpressed. Offended, even, judging by the way she licks her paw.

You’re so fucked.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this chapter! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future chapters!

askbox ★ ao3 ★ anonymous feedback box

@kkaetnipjeon @ktownshizzle @joonary @ggukivrse @chrrybbmb 

@sunreads @futuristicenemychaos @tea4sykes @sugainmybowl @wobblewobble822 

@this-most-assuredly-counts @ohnothisnameisalreadytaken @sugafun @whoa-jo @amarawayne 

@kimsaerom @bangtangsworld @jimingirl95 @jadestonedaeho7 @notsevenwithyou

@perfctlyunstable @yoonmetogether @kpophosblog @chimmchimmm @nnybtitts08

@itsmina29 @sophia--915 @jeanjacketjesus @kiki-zb @velvetskize

@gelijar @livi101ful @annyeongbitch7 @pitchblack0309 @goldietigers294 

@hopegdbbggloss @kam9404 @jajabro @parapiop7 @mar-lo-pap

@tarahardcore @butterymin @svnbangtansworld @rainnamu @auroradamned

@mintedagustd @angellekookie @watchingover-hypegirl @slytherinatheart

@seokjinthescientist @namgimini 

PREVIOUS CHAPTER ✧ MASTERLIST ✧ NEXT CHAPTER

[theorphicangel]

I’m absolutely in love with Sukuna Sunday’s!! It’s such a cool way to do small drabbles ヾ(●⌒∇⌒●)ﾉ

How would Sukuna (lowkey kind of mean and a menace) go about proposing to his sweet s/o? Is he even the type of person to think about marriage?

After years of being subtle and round about about his feelings, this will definitely have to be the most forward his feelings for them will have to be 🙂‍↕️

AHHH maybe I’m a sucker for tsundere sukuna (=゜ω゜)

thank you so much!!! i'm really glad you enjoy them and i'm so grateful to you for sending in and engaging with my posts too!!

this is tricky because i don't think sukuna would really care or think about marriage immediately, after a few years he already considers your souls to be bound and he cannot and will not picture a future without you.

butttttt if it matters to you i think he would begin to think about it. maybe it's the way that he sees you get excited about your other friend's engagements or the way he watches you tear up at watching proposal videos online that the thoughts of marriage spark in his head. not to mention the constant nagging from your friends of when he's going to propose.

but also....he's quite fond of the idea of you calling him your husband. he almost gets himself flustered in imagining your sweet tone in addressing him as husband.

he'll start ring shopping subtly when you're not around or on his days off. he knows you well enough to pick a ring that suits you and knows your size without even having to ask.

in terms of how he proposes, this is the part where he starts to sweat. i can't imagine him proposing to you in a room full of people even if they were your closest friends and family so i think a private and personal proposal is the way to go. a private dinner with a nice scenery or taking you to a hidden beach to watch the sunset.

there's no one else watching and it feels like you and him are the only people on earth right now. his palms are sweaty and his heartbeat is thumping at a million miles an hour.

it's funny because the entire day leading up to the proposal you sensed that he was acting off and that there was something on his mind. but you would have never guessed it was him proposing at all.

i think he would struggle a little bit in delivering a speech. he'd be awkward and the words don't exactly flow off his tongue well, trying to remember everything he wanted to say. but after spending so many years together you already know what he means. sukuna's not the best with words which is why he'd rather show that he loves you. and if that means he has to get on one knee and open a ring box then he will.

his voice is a little tense when asking you to marry him. realistically and deep down he knows you wouldn't say no but there's a part of him that truly believes he doesn't deserve you and your kindness, that there might be someone else who deserves your love more than him. but of course these thoughts are completely destroyed when you say yes a thousand times over to him.

it feels right, he thinks, as he places the ring on your finger. ending up with you feels perfect and it makes him emotional to think of how far you've come together.

yah it's so clear that i'm a sucker for tsundere sukuna too it's my favourite thing about him!!!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Saw your Twst x EAH posts so I wanted to share a hc I have about those kinds of AUs:

Both Maddie and later Kitty are shown to be able to hear the narrators, which makes sense since they’re from Wonderland. Awhile back I saw a theory brought up that it’s those two out of the Wonderland cast specifically because they’re both rebels, so in order to hear the narrators in a EAH context would be to 1) be from Wonderland and 2) be rebel aligned

So. In theory, as the rebel-iest wonderlandian in Twst, Ace would be able to hear the narrator(s)

As you’ve already brought up, Riddle would obviously be a royal, then Trey & Cater are Riddle’s right and left hands, so they’d be royals as well, and Deuce wanting to be an honor student would also align himself with the royals (which adds a bunch of flavor in his role in book 1 too! Because he hates the oppression from Riddle, but he’s really trying to put his rebellious days behind him, in more ways than one)

Leaving Ace, who wants next to nothing to do with that shit. I think he doesn’t mind following his destiny, but to that strict of a tee? That good(or even people who don’t want to have a horrible fate) people will suffer because they have to fulfill their destiny? Yeah, no, he obviously hates that

And so, imagine the potential of him hearing the narrators. My personal thought is Brooke being the main narrator, as a kind of, “We’re narrating this story (EAH) it’s time for you to narrate on your own” and her parents send her to narrate Twst on her own (with some supervision at times, just because of how story breaking it can be to have a character hear the narrator, with that narrator willing to break the story, and especially if the character that can hear them will follow through)

Also I can’t help but imagine in like, Spectral Soirée for example,

Ace: Wait, gimme a minute, let me ask the narrator

Floyd: The who?

Ace: Shush! Brooke, little help here?

Brooke: Ehh, sorry Ace, I don’t think I can tell you much without ruining things

Ace: Bullshit! There’s like, 3 groups out here! Surely one of them knowing the plot, at least a little, won’t ruin things!

Brooke: Not wrong… Uh, I guess I can tell you one thing

:It’s Malleus’s fault

Ace: THAT DAMN LIZARD!

Or something like that lol. Cue the others just being confused about what’s going on/who he’s talking to

(Wow, this is getting long-) And to add on! If the theme of this AU is everyone slowly turning to the Rebel’s side, just imagine all of the main Heartslabyul cast (or even side cast for higher comedic potential) starting to hear the narrators as well lol

I think that’s it for now. I just find this idea really funny/interesting

[ EAH x TWST posts: part 1 / part 2 / part 3 ]

Ooh, that's an interesting EAH theory 🤔 and oddly very fitting for Ace, who is a character that consistently calls others out for their wrongdoings, regardless of their social status, wealth, or power. Even though Ace is often characterized as bratty and pretty mean-spirited for no particular reason, he's also shown to have a heart of gold behind all of that. He abandons the winter break he was willing to cheat on his final exams to avoid remedial lessons for, just to take a tedious transit route back to Sage's Island in response to a SOS text from Yuu. He's frequently standing up for others and hypocrisy that he sees (Ghost Marriage, Endless Halloween Night, etc.). Ace isn't exactly always in the right (he also avoids personal accountability and makes excuses to not get involved in book 7's big fight against Malleus) and doesn't always have the most noble of intentions (in book 2, he only wants to help out only to earn himself a spot in Heartslabyul's team), but this does speak to his rebellious streak.

Him somehow ending up as the only Rebel of his dorm (at least to start off in book 1) is also very par-for-the-course. Trey and Cater were pretty much obediently falling in line with and enforcing Riddle's orders, and even Deuce was hesitant to go against his dorm leader's words for a while. I guess by the end of book 1 though, Trey, Cater, and Deuce would classify as Rebels too since Deuce agreed Riddle was being unfair + joined the duel against him and they later on banded together to fight OB Riddle.

I love the idea of Brooke Page (the daughter of the two Narrators from Ever After High, for those who don't know) maturing a bit and being handed the responsibility of narrating her own story. It would add a lot of chaos to an already chaotic story, since Brooke tends to go on her own tangents and actively roots for her characters to win and to find their happy endings. Her parents would definitely have to keep a close eye on her to keep Brooke from giving everything away. Cue everyone else in the Twst cast thinking Ace just has a habit of talking to himself/j

I think it makes the most sense to keep “hearing the Narrators” limited to only a few characters in the cast. If everyone came to progressively learn to hear them, I feel like it would really kill any tension or suspense and the charm of the ability would be reduced. Maybe just keep it to Ace so there’s one person in the “main” friend group that’s able to hear the Narrators’ voices? Then he can sort of be an interpreter for the others.

It might be interesting to tie this in with his character development over the course of the main story as well. Like maybe Ace confides in Brooke after the end of book 5, wondering why is it that Deuce got his UM before he did?? And then he’s not able to properly protect Grim from being kidnapped in book 6… Is there anything Ace can do right? This could help lead into the big reveal of Joker Snatch in book 7.

Aaah, so many possibilities unlocked 😳

[postcardsfromheapside]

The funny thing about this post, which is good, and I have seen people jokingly refer to the exact issues it mentions, is that:

When VG critics are complaining about how no one cares about Rook, and ignoring this fact about their MCs in other games, it's because they hate VG specifically for a variety of reasons and love the angsty nature of being the lonely main character in prior DA games. I've literally seen posts extolling the nature of how their MC is cut off from everything they've known, either to make themselves feel more heroic, or to deepen the sense of relationship between their MC and their LI.

My favorite version of this was someone writing up how isolated a female Lavellan is, and how Solas is her only comfort (of course), which was HYSTERICAL to me because once the title rolls and you can wander around Haven and have conversations with everyone, there ARE people asking how you are. How are you feeling. How are you handling the whole "Herald" thing. Notably first on my list is Varric, who asks outright, and worries about you being a hero (because he's seen how THAT goes). Cullen doesn't outright ask, but some of his dialogue trees are very bolstering - I forget the exact wording but, "I'm just glad I can help"/"It is enough that you would try." Josephine outright greets you in Elvhen and makes sure you aren't being made uncomfortable due to the rumors and shit talk, and asks your help in creating your own propaganda. When you recruit Blackwall he almost immediately decides "well I like this woman, if she has no fans then I am dead." And so on.

Anyway, romancing Alistair was a barrel of laughs, and also very sweet and sad, and I took everything in Origins with a grain of salt for what I thought were pretty obvious reasons. VG haters cannot claim that no one cares about Rook without being completely disingenous, because throughout the entire game there are sidequests where the companions take Rook out to touch grass, and potentially dialogue describing off-screen care-time (ex: Harding planning a private camping trip with Rook). It's this utter adherence to lying about the game that's forming this disconnect in the linked post.

And I'd love to see more art and fic about how flawed Alistair actually is. How when he's left a warden, he seems to grow more mature, but also so, so tired. Does Anora do all his ruling when he's a king? There's so much potential for *great* art and fanfiction here, regardless of who he romanced, and it's boundless because of the infinite options VG gave us in world-state.

[mitsuko334]

This post is messy but I think my idea is fun so I decided to share c:

Warning!!!! there are a lot of spoilers ahead if you haven't finished part 1 of the novel

My wonderfull brain made up and au where Cale is in his og body and a butler to Alberu

I've name it Butler of the Royal family and have already written the first two chapters but it takes me ages to write so I will just share my ideas for now . Haven't poster the chapters to ao3 yet

This is inspired by that one part of the God of Despair tests . Where Cale is in the body of some random guy and acts as a butler for small Alberu who is in a bad position as a teen. You know - the one where he turns the palace on its head so he can give Alberu a decent meal and wreaks havoc as usual. Calls him "Your Royal highness" , changes the furniture to better ones in the palace and then almost gets killed by the king . I love it a lot it's super cute and makes me soooft

This but it's the reality

So basically Kim Rock Soo is punted into the Forest of death Choi family style and is a transmigrator not a reincarnator (idk if that's what they're called) so he's not in Cales body and the deal with GoD hasn't happened

The thing is - he's away too early than the setting of The birth of a Hero . Alberu and Cale are only teens and Harris village is still standing

Here's where I take many liberations with the accurate ages and such - mainly I ignore them and just change them so they can fit my silly scenarios

When Rock Soo realises he's earlier than the events in The Birth of a Hero he decides to go make a deal with that glib crown prince . He's trying to scam him to get money for slacker life or smth . But then he sees the sorry state that is Alberus palace and how they mistreat him. And basically hires himself as the head butler to fix things because of course he would. The rationalisation in his mind is that he needs the crown prince in power to ensure that Roan will be ready for the future wars and he can live his slacker life without worrying about that

In the end he takes the reins as commander in the war and is a hero like in canon as is expected of our clown mc

That's about it

I'm mostly thinking about how different Alberu will grow up with Rock Soo as his butler . He has someone he can actually depend on now!!

Kim Rock Soo relationship with everyone will be different which is the fun part for me

He's a dad of one crown prince (even if he won't admit it) and baby Raon .

Raon!! He's still an egg in this but don't worry Rock Soo won't ever forget his dragon son so he goes to steal- I mean rescue Raon and a few other valuable things he finds in that cave. So Raon hatches from his egg into Rock Soos warm hands and is coddled and loved as he should be. Only the best thing for the dragon baby

And!! Rock Soo is about the same age as Ron in this cuz I said so - around 36 I think. And so! They're best friends. Of course Rock Soo is terrified but still

Ron finds him funny and decides to keep him around just cuz

Haven't thought everything out but yeah

I will share the many memes I've made for this and hopefully they flesh out my concept more and how the interactions change between the characters and sometimes doesn't really

-------------------

How Kim Rock Soo became Butler!Rock Soo:

Rock Soo going to meet the Crown Prince: Gonna strike a deal to help him with the future wars and secure slacker life. Planning only of course I don't wanna fight

(He's delusional your Honour.)

teen!Alberu in an unkept office, clearly malnourished: And may I ask for what reason you seek my help? ಠ⁠‿⁠ಠ

Butler!Rock Soo: ... for the butler position.

teen!Alberu: Pardon?

(Butler!Rock Soo was won over by teen!Alberu spectacular sad boy energy. If no one was going to take care of Roan future king then goddamn Rock Soo will do so himself. No child should starve especially the kingdoms future ruler. Besides he's securing his comfy slacker life. The crowns prince head butlers salary is sure to get him enough funds for a long cushy retirement. And if he gotta give the lil prince power to give him that salary himself well you gotta do what you gotta do for slacker life / this is how Rock Soo convinced himself to come out of his retirement and become a butler)

-----------------------------

Butler!Roksu doing the parent™ thing and casually dropping the most fucked up backstory in the middle of a conversation: I don't really have food preferences since I was so used to starving as a kid and teen. As long as it's made by the royal kitchen it's tasty.

teen!Alberu who asked what his favourite food was: (⁠@⁠_⁠@⁠)

_____________

teen!Alberu: *complaining about some annoying noble:

Butler!Roksu: I suggest scamming

teen!Alberu: You always suggest scamming

Butler!Roksu: Hasn't failed us so far

_____________

teen!Alberu: *in the middle of a hormonal angst*

Butler!Roksu: I don't remember being like this when I was younger (he was worse)

/Not the isolated lonely teen roksu angst what will we dooooo

___________

teen!Alberu: I know your secret identity don't even try to deny it

Butler!Roksu - a transmigrator: "shit how to explain this"

teen!Alberu: You're a noble in hiding!! Probably from a foreign country

Butler!Roksu: Your royal highness your brilliance is unmeasurable and intellect beyond our understanding. The future of our Roan is in capable hands

Butler!Roksu: "I mean I needed an alibi so might as well accept this"

(Slacker life waves at Roksu goodbye as they fade into nothingness)

_________

teen!Alberu and teen!Cale - proud members of the neglected by their father after the traumatic death of their mother and raised by their sketchy (vicious) butler club

(It do be like that sometimes)

___________________________

teen!Alberu: Roksu is saying to get to know Cale... Probably so he can be my future ally . He seems rude and a drinks a lot idk how he will be of any help but if Roksu thinks he's useful there must be something

Butler!Roksu setting up play dates with Ron: My kid needs more friends. All he does is brood and study.

(Roksu is a concerned parent for his shut in kid)

___________________________

Ron about og!Cale: I do have a fatherly role in his life but I must still maintain my distance as his survent

Roksu about Alberu: That's my prince son. I love him very much but will never admit it.

(Ron tries to maintain his distance and keep their relationship somewhat servant/master. He's failing but that's another question.

Roksu tho? He saw a lost teen with trust issues, asked "Is anyone gonna adopt that?" and didn't wait for an answer.)

___________________________

Choi Han who hasn't seen other Koreans or even heard the language in literal decades vs Kim Rock Soo casualty strolling into the village asking how he's doing in korean (the only language he knows)

FIGHT

Choi Han loses. He doesn't know what's going on. He's very happy tho.

_____________________________

Kim Rock Soo: Choi Han probably thinks it's very annoying having to translate back and forth between me and the villagers. Better learn this roan language soon so as not to bother him

Meanwhile Choi Han who follows him like the lost puppy he is just so so happy to hear his mother language and to help his huyng

_____________________________

Rock Soo spawning from the Forest of Darkness: (◉_◉)

Harris village folks: oh my god there's another one

Rock Soo: tries to communicate with them and is respectable

Harris village folks: AND this one is not feral!!!

(Thus began the rumor that strong people with black eyes and hair come out from the Forest of Darkness like some kind of mythical creatures)

_________________________

Harris village hearing banging on the door separating them from the Forest of Darkness: No monster has tried to come here in thousand of year we ARE DEATH AAAA

Choi Han taking out his sword: Don't worry I will kill it before it makes a single sound (⁠•⁠‿⁠•⁠)

Rock Soo outside the doors: My legs are tired :⁠-⁠\ . I hope they come soon

_______________________________

Buff scarred 36 years old Kim Rock Soo in a maid dress

_______________________________

Raon to his fellow dragons and honestly every human and non-human he gets to talk to: This is my human (dad) and he's very weak !! You have to be careful with him ಠ⁠ᴥ⁠ಠ

Teen!Alberu introducing his new butler to his fellow nobles: This is my frail butler. He's very old and ready for retirement so please be mindful with him (⁠•⁠‿⁠•⁠)

Enter Butler!Rock Soo - a shredded middle aged man with scar tissue more than clear skin: I will be in your care

(Teen!Alberu knows exactly what he's doing with this. Rock Soo and Raon are 100% genuine xd. // Rock Soo is delusional in every form)

_______________________________

Butler!Rock Soo realising Ron is the same age as him: Fuck you what do you mean "an old man assassin"?!? Do I look old man age to you. If you think 30s is old age then this was written by a toddler smh

Choi Jung Gun feeling offended: This is all your fault

GoD: you're so mean to me (⁠｡⁠•́⁠︿⁠•̀⁠｡⁠)

(Rock Soo seeing Ron for the first time and thinking he's being called old/ teen!Alberu will later confirm that claim)

_____________________________

Rock Soo and Ron should be besties change my mind

Butler!Rock Soo: scared shitless of Ron most times. Shares relatable™ moments with him cuz they're both raising- I mean working for kids

Ron: Rock Soo amuses him and he likes actually having friends that have seen some shit and he can talk semi-normally to

Lots of taunting in their interactions courtesy of Ron who is entertained to no end at the taller and buffer man flinching at him sharpening knifes and alluding to murder

_____________________________

Ohmygod. Ron finds a new hobbie - he picks up woodworking - he makes lil wooden figures specifically cuz it dullens the knife he's using. He holds onto the knives and wait until Rock Soo is around to sharpen them so he can watch him freak out in minimal twitches and constipated faces

He enjoys it more than he should but c'mon

Ron pulling out a knife to sharpen for the first time in front of Rock Soo:

Rock Soo's bear fighting looking ass: *does a lil twitch

Ron: ಠಿ◡ಠ

Rock Soo: *actually shivers

C'mon who wouldn't wanna do that again. Rock Soo on his clown behaviour smh

_____________________________

Butler!Rock Soo and og!Cale still understand eachother the best !

Butler!Rock Soo: I'm gonna retire and live a slacker life in peace

Og!Cale: Okay that sounds nice hope you get it soon...wanna hear about how I lost my mom

Butler!Rock Soo: sure kid lay it on me

Like Rock Soo still takes the time to sit and listen to Cale tell him about what he's going through even though he finds this annoying. And Cale truly believes and hopes Rock Soo achieves his dream

[onlyangel4]

all the stars. seth rollins.

seth rollins x ex!reader

synopsis: you met under bright lights and high stakes, a whirlwind connection between you, a british journalist and wwe’s seth rollins that felt like fate. but love across oceans is never simple. with one rooted in london and the other constantly on the road, what started as something electric slowly unraveled under the weight of time zones, missed calls, and the silence in between. when distance drove you apart, it seemed like your stars would never align again.

but time has a funny way of guiding hearts home.

faceclaim: emily vancamp

burnitdown

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 45,383 others

burnitdown: missing them hours

view all 4,998 comments

user1: i can't believe it has been three months since mom and dad broke up

user2: the day their break up was announced was the day i stopped believing in love

user3: y/n and seth go back to each other challenge

user4: i miss them so much

user5: she was his person and i stand by that

user6: he will never love anyone the way he loved y/n

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

it was just another night. the kind that hummed too softly to distract from the ache.

you lay on your side, wrapped in too many blankets and not enough warmth. outside the window, the moon hung low over the lake, rippling like silver ink across dark water. you’d always loved the quiet of nights like that, still, slow, sacred. but lately, they just felt empty.

your phone sat face down on the pillow beside you. no notifications. no unread messages. just that thread left hanging, your last message read, never answered. you didn’t blame him. not really. it was hard to find time between cities and airports and roaring crowds.

but that night, even with the cold biting at the edges of your sheets, you let yourself remember.

that night in chicago, with him. the streetlamps glowing like old film, his hand brushing yours as you laughed about something neither of you could remember now. the air had smelled like rain and asphalt and late-night coffee, and he’d looked at you like you were the only thing worth slowing down for. you'd tilted your head up to the sky, pointed at a streak of light, and whispered, "make a wish."

you’d never asked what he wished for. you hadn’t needed to.

meanwhile, halfway across the world, Seth stood in the corner of a hotel room that didn’t feel like his. the windows were too clean. the silence too loud. his suitcase remained zipped at the foot of the bed, untouched even though he’d landed hours earlier. he leaned his head against the glass, breath fogging it slightly as he stared up at the same moon, maybe not at the same time, but close enough to hurt.

he lifted his phone. paused.

he typed: "i saw a shooting star and thought of you." then deleted it.

in the end, he posted a photo to instagram.

wwerollins posted a story

written: still looking.

and across the ocean, where the night was just beginning, you saw it. and your heart broke a little more gently than it had the day before.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

seth hadn’t meant to end up there.

the match had wrapped, the curtain had dropped, and the locker room buzz faded behind him. he told security he needed air, just ten minutes, no cameras, no fans. they let him go without asking questions.

he walked without a destination, hands in the pockets of a hoodie too thin for the cool night air. the streets were quiet in that soft post-midnight lull, streetlights humming, casting long shadows on the sidewalk. the kind of quiet that made it easy to fall into old memories.

that’s when he realized where he was.

three blocks down from the venue, just far enough from the noise, was a small café with chipped window paint and fairy lights wrapped lazily around the awning. it had been your favourite when you visited. you’d sat by the window that one rainy night, drinking something too sweet and laughing at how he hated foam art. he remembered how you'd traced shapes on the fogged-up glass, writing tiny notes with your fingertip. he hadn’t realized until later that one of them had said “don’t leave me behind.”

god. he’d forgotten that part. or maybe he’d forced himself to.

the café was closed now. lights off, chairs up. but the memory still pulsed like it had just happened.

he stood there for a while, just breathing in the past. he tried not to think about how that night ended, the hotel room, your soft voice saying "i know this won’t last forever, but i want it to", and his silence.

he didn’t know how to hold something without crushing it back then.

and you, you sat back home, across the world, doing something as simple as folding laundry when that memory hit you, too. the same one. the café, the rain, his smile. the universe was cruel that way , letting two people remember each other at the same time, but not letting them know it.

you checked your phone. still nothing from him.

but in your chest, something stirred. not hope. not exactly. but something quieter. something that said, he’s still out there, and maybe he’s remembering too.

you went outside and looked up at the sky. it was cloudy, but you imagined the stars were still there, just hidden. still shining.

somewhere, seth looked up at them too.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the locker room was loud, too loud.

someone was laughing near the catering table. someone else blasted music from their phone, muffled bass shaking the walls. but seth heard none of it. not really. the adrenaline had already burned off, leaving behind the hollow exhaustion that clung to him like sweat.

he sat alone on the bench in the far corner, hands clasped, elbows braced on his knees. his wrists ached. his neck screamed. but it wasn’t the pain that had his heart pounding.

it was the weight. the kind that came after weeks, months of pretending he was fine.

he'd given the crowd everything. roared. fought. grinned like it didn’t matter that every match ended with no one waiting for him in the wings anymore. no one to come back to.

you used to sit by the monitor during his matches, knees pulled to your chest, trying not to react too obviously when he took a hard bump. he used to spot your face in the sea of chaos and breathe easier.

now? nothing. just silence.

and then someone made a joke, harmless, stupid. something about "you should call your girl and celebrate", and that was it.

the crack finally split open.

seth stood up too fast. knocked over a chair. his taped fists clenched at his sides, jaw tight, shoulders shaking. a few of the guys quieted, noticing the sudden tension, but no one said anything. they knew better.

he stormed into the empty hallway, footsteps echoing. shoved open the nearest supply room and slammed the door shut behind him. the light flickered as he leaned back against the metal shelves, sliding down until he hit the cold floor.

he buried his face in his hands. and let it fall apart.

a choked breath. then another. the kind that burned deep in the chest, not from exhaustion, but from grief he’d been choking down for far too long. his shoulders shook as the tears came, silent and furious. not because he was angry at you. not even at the situation.

he was angry at himself. for letting you go without a fight. for choosing the road over the one person who saw past the lights and the title runs. for not calling. for not saying anything when he still had the chance.

his phone buzzed in his gear bag a few feet away. he ignored it.

then it buzzed again.

finally, he dragged himself up, throat raw, and pulled it out. the screen lit up with a name he hadn’t seen in too long.

he stared at the text thread for a long time.

still sitting on that cold floor, with his chest cracked open and eyes still burning, seth whispered one thing to the quiet: "god, i still love you."

and for the first time in forever, the silence didn’t feel quite so heavy.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

your hands trembled as you held your phone to your chest. the message stared back at you like it was breathing, like it had its own pulse.

"i never stopped loving you. i just thought letting go would hurt you less than holding on."

you read it five times. then once more.

and then your thumb hovered over the screen, before you tapped "call."

it rang once. twice. three times.

you almost hung up.

then. "hey." his voice was quiet. hoarse. like he hadn’t spoken in hours. like he was afraid to speak now.

you didn’t say anything at first. the silence stretched, but it wasn’t empty. it was full. full of everything unsaid.

"i didn’t expect you to answer", you finally said. your voice cracked halfway through.

"i didn’t expect you to call", he replied. then, after a beat, "but i'm glad you did."

you swallowed, throat tight. "why now, seth?"

"i don’t know." he paused. you could hear the faint hum of the airport over the line. "no, that’s a lie. i do know. i’ve been a mess. trying to pretend I was okay, but i’m not. not without you. i kept thinking it was easier this way, that if i stayed quiet, you’d move on, and it wouldn’t hurt so much."

"it still hurt", you whispered.

"i know." he exhaled. "god, i know. i’ve been walking around with your ghost for months. every time i land somewhere new, i look for you in the crowd like an idiot. every hotel room feels colder than the last. i keep seeing you in everything, in coffee shops, in songs on the radio, in cities you never even saw with me."

you closed your eyes. "i couldn’t do the distance anymore. i hated waking up alone. hated hearing you say you missed me through a screen and not knowing when i’d see you again."

"i know", he said again. "and i didn’t fight you on it, because part of me thought maybe i didn’t deserve to ask you to stay."

another pause. then softer, more broken: "but i wanted to. i wanted to ask you to wait for me. i just didn’t know how."

the line went quiet again. you could hear his breathing, unsteady.

"i’m scared", you admitted. "what if we just hurt each other again?"

"then we take it slower. smarter. we find a way that doesn’t leave us bleeding." a beat. "i don’t want to pretend anymore. not with you."

you took a breath. then another. you could feel the ache still there, but softer now. less sharp.

"okay", you said. "then tell me something real."

seth was quiet for a second.

"i still remember the way your voice sounded that night in london. you told me you couldn’t do it anymore, that you loved me too much to keep waking up empty. i hear that every night."

your heart ached.

"but i also remember the way you looked at me in chicago. in that tiny café when you thought i wasn’t paying attention. like i was the best thing that ever happened to you. i want to find my way back to that look."

you wiped your eyes before the tears could spill.

"i still look at you that way", you whispered. "even when you’re not here."

and in that moment, neither of you were alone.

not really.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the first video call after everything felt surreal.

he was sitting in a dim hotel room, hair damp from a shower, wearing one of those worn black hoodies you always teased him for hoarding. You were in your london flat, the sleeves of your jumper pulled over your hands, mug of tea going cold beside your laptop.

you didn’t talk about the breakup. not yet. not directly. but the edges of it were everywhere, in the pauses, the looks, the questions you asked more softly than usual.

"are you sleeping okay?" you asked.

seth gave a tired smile. "i sleep better now. since you called."

he meant it. you could see it in the way his shoulders relaxed just from hearing your voice again.

you didn’t say you’d been falling asleep to voice notes he’d left you during your time together, the ones you never deleted. you didn’t say you still hadn’t let anyone else into your heart since him.

instead, you asked, "what city are you in tonight?"

he looked out the window behind him. "barcelona."

"oh", you said, soft. "we always said we’d go together."

"i still want to", he replied without hesitation.

silence bloomed between you, but it wasn’t heavy this time. it felt full of possibility. like standing on a cliff and realizing you’re no longer afraid to look down.

he leaned a little closer to the screen. "can i ask something?"

you nodded.

"if i flew to london, no cameras, no appearances, just me, would you let me see you? even just for coffee?”

your heart skipped.

you didn’t speak right away, because the old fear was still there. but this time, so was something else, the belief that maybe, just maybe, this time wouldn’t end in goodbye.

"i’d like that", you said. "but i don’t want to fall back into something just because we miss each other."

"i don’t want to fall", seth said. "i want to stay."

and when he said it, you believed him.

so you didn’t promise anything. you didn’t rush. but you let him see you smile. and that was enough, for now.

across the screen, his eyes softened like they used to. the look you thought you’d never see again.

that night, you opened the curtains in your bedroom and stared up at the stars.

and somewhere, high above spain, seth looked out the plane window on his red-eye flight back to you, guided by the same constellations.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

you didn’t tell anyone where you were going.

you needed it to be yours, not a story, not a post, not something to analyse over coffee with friends or turn into a caption. just yours.

it was cold outside the restaurant, the same one you used to go to when he visited. the one with the mismatched chairs and the creaky door that had never once been fixed. you sat near the window, heart hammering, watching each stranger walk by with a breath caught in your throat.

and then, he was there.

seth stood across the street, hoodie up, duffle bag slung over one shoulder. the city moved around him, fast and careless, but he didn’t move until your eyes met.

you gave a small nod.

that’s all it took.

the bell above the door jingled softly as he stepped inside. no cameras. no fans. just you and him and the quiet hum of soft jazz playing overhead.

you didn’t stand. he didn’t rush.

he slid into the seat across from you like no time had passed, and yet, all the time in the world had passed. he looked tired. different. better. worse. all of it.

"you look the same", he said softly. "like i’ve been seeing you in dreams and finally woke up."

you didn’t trust yourself to speak at first. not until he reached across the table and gently, carefully, placed his hand over yours.

no expectations. just touch. just grounding.

"i didn’t come here to fix everything in one afternoon", he said. "i just needed to see you. really see you."

you nodded, throat thick.

"i’m still scared", you admitted.

"i am too", he said. "but being without you didn’t make me less scared. it just made me lonely."

tears slipped down your cheek before you could stop them. he didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. he just laced his fingers with yours and held on.

"i don’t know what we’re doing", you whispered. "i just know i don’t want to keep doing it apart."

his thumb brushed over your knuckles. gentle. familiar.

"then we don’t have to", he said. "not anymore."

you didn’t kiss right away. didn’t make any grand declarations. you just sat there, hands tangled across a tiny table, while the rest of the world passed by.

and for the first time in months, maybe years, the silence between you felt like peace, not distance.

outside, the sky began to fade into evening, the stars slow to peek through the grey. but when you both looked up, it was there again, that same quiet wonder.

the stars hadn’t moved. they’d been waiting. and now, finally, you weren’t looking at them alone.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

it was raining when he landed. you hadn't seen him since his last visit, a month ago.

when you decided you would try this again.

not a downpour, just that kind of cold, misty drizzle that turned every streetlamp into a halo. london didn’t stop for it. people rushed past in coats and trainers, umbrellas bobbing in the current of the city. but seth, he slowed.

he let it soak into his hoodie. let it bead on the surface of the duffel bag over his shoulder. he had barely slept on the flight, but he didn’t care.

you were waiting.

and god, did it feel good to be wanted again.

you met him at the door barefoot, hoodie hanging loose over your frame, hair tied up like you hadn’t planned on making this a moment. but it was one.

he dropped his bag just inside and wrapped his arms around you without a word. you held on. tighter than last time. like you believed it now.

"i got here in one piece", he murmured against your shoulder.

"you smell like airplane and coffee."

"i’ll take that as love language."

you smiled. "it was."

the next few days were nothing spectacular and that was what made them beautiful.

you worked during the day while he trained or ran errands or facetimed friends from your living room. at night, you’d eat takeaway on the couch and fall asleep tangled together, movie credits long forgotten in the background.

one night, he walked you home from your local after dinner, hands in his coat pockets, the glow of the city making everything feel gold around the edges.

"i think i get it now", he said suddenly, glancing at the street ahead.

"get what?"

"why you couldn’t leave this. the rhythm. the roots" he paused. "you belong here. and i want to belong wherever you are, not the other way around."

you didn’t know what to say to that.

so you just reached out, took his hand, and kept walking.

back through lamp-lit streets you both knew now.

later that week, on the day he was set to fly out, you stood in your kitchen, watching him zip his bag shut.

he looked up at you.

"still okay?" he asked.

you nodded. "still scared. but still choosing you."

he grinned. "that’s all i need."

you drove him to the airport. you didn’t cry when you hugged him goodbye, not like last time. it still hurt. but it didn’t feel like the end anymore.

you kissed him softly, then whispered into his ear:

"come back soon."

he smiled, touched your forehead with his. "every chance i get."

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

it started with a missed call.

then another.

and then a third, this time during the slot you always carved out, the one labelled "s + y time" in your calendar.

you stared at your phone, thumb hovering over his name, irritation and worry rising in tandem.

you waited.

waited until it was nearly 3am your time, and your flat was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of the streetlamp outside your window.

then, finally, your phone rang.

seth’s name lit up the screen.

you answered with a sigh before hello. "you okay?"

he sounded exhausted. "yeah. just, show ran long. then media. then travel delays. i know I said i’d call earlier-"

"i just wish you’d told me", you cut in, sharper than you meant. "i sat here wondering if something had happened."

there was a pause. not silence, just pause. that important kind. the kind that used to mean the start of a fight.

but not this time.

"i’m sorry", he said. "i didn’t manage the time. and i should’ve texted. that’s on me."

you blinked. that was new.

you let out a breath. "i wasn’t trying to start something. i just hate the distance sometimes. it gets loud in the quiet."

"yeah", seth said softly. "it’s been loud here too."

you pressed your phone tighter to your ear. "tell me."

so he did.

told you about the new storyline that wasn’t sitting right. the jet lag. the way some days he walked into arenas and couldn’t remember which country he was in. the way he wanted to come home but wasn’t sure where that even was anymore.

until he remembered you.

"i replay that week in london in my head more than i should", he said, voice softer now. "not because it was perfect. but because it was real. It reminded me why we’re doing this."

you wiped at your eyes, now damp for a different reason.

"i’m trying, seth."

"i know. so am i"

a pause.

then he asked, "can i see your face?"

you switched to video. no makeup, hair messy, blanket wrapped around your shoulders like armour.

his smile, even pixelated, was tired and full of love.

"there you are", he said, like it was the first time he’d breathed all day.

you curled into the couch, phone balanced on a pillow, eyes on him through the screen.

"you’re not alone", you said. "even when it feels like it."

he nodded. "neither are you."

and just like that, not with a grand gesture, not with a miracle, but with a call that could’ve been a disaster, you learned how to hold space for each other, even when space was all you had.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

it had taken weeks of careful planning, whispered texts, and a well-timed story about a "work event" you didn’t really have.

you hadn’t stepped foot in a wwe arena in over a year, not since the last time you stood in the shadows watching him wrestle under lights you could never follow him into. but this time wasn’t about shadows.

this time was about showing up.

and bayley had made damn sure it would be perfect.

she met you at the loading dock, dressed in her gear, grinning like she was holding onto the best kind of secret.

"got your vip lanyard", she said, slipping it over your head. "you ready?"

you nodded, nerves buzzing.

"he’s been broody all day", she added with a laugh. "he thinks he’s subtle, but he keeps checking his phone like it owes him money."

you smiled. "i didn’t answer his last text."

bayley winked. "oh, he’s gonna lose it."

she guided you through the maze of corridors, past production, through catering, toward the private locker hallway near gorilla. your heart beat faster with every step. you could hear the rumble of the crowd from inside the arena, that low, electric hum that always gave you goosebumps.

"he’s in there", bayley whispered, pointing toward a side locker room. "get ready to ruin his night in the best possible way."

you laughed, nerves spiking.

then you knocked once and opened the door.

seth was pacing.

fully geared up, gloves on, hair tied back, talking to himself the way he did before every show. when he heard the door open, he turned fast, already halfway through a sentence

and froze.

like he forgot how to breathe.

you just stood there, backpack slung over your shoulder, wearing one of his old black & brave hoodies and a small, uncertain smile.

"hey", you said softly.

he blinked. "am i hallucinating?"

"nope. very real. jet-lagged and slightly underfed, but real."

he didn’t move for a second. then his face broke into something soft, stunned, and entirely overwhelmed.

"you’re here."

you nodded. "i missed you."

in two long strides, he crossed the room and pulled you into his arms tight, grounding, full-body relief. he buried his face in your neck, exhaling like he’d been holding his breath since you left.

"i can’t believe you did this" he murmured.

"bayley might’ve helped."

"i’m proposing to her."

you laughed against his shoulder. "rude."

he pulled back enough to look at you, eyes wide and shining. "god, i needed this. you have no idea."

you reached up, brushing hair from his face. "i think i do."

later, after his match, you were standing just backstage when roman, kevin, and sami passed by.

kevin gave you a dramatic once-over. "so you’re the secret weapon. i thought he was smiling too much tonight."

sami grinned. "i saw him almost skip to gorilla. man was floating."

roman just gave you a nod and a small smirk. "he’s better with you around. we all see it."

you smiled, heart full.

back in seth’s locker room, he toweled off, still sweaty from the match, but his smile hadn’t dropped once.

"stay a few days?" he asked.

you stepped closer. "try and stop me."

he leaned down, kissing you slow, like he didn’t care about anything else in the world.

and maybe, for now, he didn’t have to.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

it had taken everything in you not to blurt it out the second you found out.

the email came while you were mid-deadline, an unexpected offer from a u.s outlet you’d freelanced for once, now offering you a full-time position. based in chicago. remote flexibility. travel support. Health benefits.

and a single line at the bottom that made your breath catch:

"we’d love to help you make the move, if you’re open to relocating stateside."

you sat there for a full hour, rereading it. not because you weren’t sure but because you already were.

seth was in the kitchen of the airbnb you’d rented for the weekend, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair messy, humming a deftones song as he poured coffee into two mugs.

you slipped your phone onto the counter behind him.

"hey", you said.

he turned, smiling. "morning, angel."

you walked closer, heart pounding for an entirely new reason.

"i, uh i’ve got something to tell you."

seth tilted his head. "yeah?"

you handed him your phone, unlocked and already open to the email.

he read it once. then again. his brows knit. then rose.

"you got a job offer", he said slowly.

you nodded. "a good one. steady journalism work. i can travel with you sometimes. work remotely. and.."

"you’d move here.", it wasn’t a question.

you met his eyes. "if you’ll still have me."

he just stared at you for a second, like the words hadn’t landed yet.

and then he set the mug down and crossed the space between you in two strides.

he kissed you like you’d just saved him.

when he finally pulled back, he didn’t say anything for a moment. just held your face between his hands like you were the most precious thing in the world.

"you’d leave everything for this?"

you smiled. "i’m not leaving everything. i’m choosing something."

he exhaled shakily, pressing his forehead to yours. "you don’t know how long i’ve dreamed of this."

you whispered, "then wake up. because i’m here."

y/ninsta posted a story tagging wwerollins

written: finally home

[thetrasha]

Could I request like the first time reader and brook share a bath, to have like a nice relaxing time (I imagine later at night when the rest are asleep, or when everyone else is away). It can be as spicy, or wholesome funny as you'd like (honestly it starting with either person walking in on the other sounds like a funny start). I would imagine it to be rather wholesome though, with both parties being flustered, but wanting to enjoy the bath with each other, maybe brook beating himself up for no reason and reader wanting to make brook feel good about himself

Thank you so much for the cute request 🥺❤️Even though I'm boiling in this weather (this is why this request took relatively long to complete [meaning 24h+]), I had so many things to add to this story!! I hope you like this one (:

PS. I know you said "spice", which is totally fine, but since I don't have a rules page due to the humble size of my blog at the moment I'm going to abuse this post to mention that I'm ace and thus won't ever write smut lol Nobody has requested this yet so kudos to everybody for being respectful and kind (✿◠‿◠) But yeah, just wanted to say that

PPS. I lowkey cooked with this one LOL

The Flesh is Weak

warnings: nudity, non-sexual intimacy

BROOK EDITION

Ever since Brook and you became official, the crew noticed that he became significantly more cheery, whistling a tune first thing in the morning and dancing along to the rhythmic hammering coming from Franky’s workshop whenever he passed by, acting as if the cyborg was his trusted drummer on tour. Worst of all was that he wasn’t even embarrassed when he was caught. Usopp and Jinbe ran into him when played the air guitar in front of a room that sounded like the man inside had just rolled over a box with a million screws inside… It was a strange sight, but they were happy for the ship’s musician. They were equally happy for you, of course. Anybody could see how just vibrantly you glowed after either of you two lovebirds exchanged affectionate glances with one another or, alternatively, touched each other much more freely and openly whenever you spent time together.

Today, Brook fondly remembered, you wanted to show him “some new crew members”. The expression you wore was so sweet, the little smile dancing on your lips was the epitome of pure joy and your eyes sparkles as brightly as the sun did. Thus, he didn’t even question the words you said to him, just accepted them because he was busy being smitten, following you without a second thought. You led up, up, up – right into the crow’s nest, which was surprisingly void of Zoro. Before he could ask why there was nobody lifting weights with their pinky, you pointed at an open window above.

A bird’s nest… And the mother, presumably, was flying around to steal material for her little house. So that’s where Robin’s chop sticks went!

Brook quieted down immediately, leaning down to whisper into your ear, “Yohoho, how cute! I haven’t seen kingfishers in years. When did you notice them?”

“Just this morning. Zoro was complaining about the noise, which led me to investigate. I don’t know how many eggs she’s protecting. Can you lift me up?”

Brook could just nod bashfully. He held your by the waist and hoisted you up with ease to sit atop his hard shoulders. The meat of your thighs dug into his bones and he could feel the weight of you against the back of his neck. He could but gasp silently–

He was slowly getting more comfortable with being a lot more touchy with you, but the thrum of your heartbeat had never been so loud to him as it was during that moment. Brook could barely focus on you; he loved you so much that he thought it was pathetic to be so horribly affected by you… Humans touched each other! That’s totally normal! It’s just… he has been touch-starved for way too long. He had to get used to holding hands, for Christ’s sake! How was he ever going to work up the courage to cuddle with you? Would you even like… well, lying on his ribcage? Or would his ribs dig into you and cause you pain? Would you think that the lack of fat tissue was uncomfortable, that squeezing him like a lover was too strange of a sensation, that you would always want a cushion in-between?

Brook wouldn’t blame you.

Even though he desperately tried to suppress those thoughts, they came back every time. You didn’t deserve this. He trusted you; he loved you! Nobody should be subjected to dealing with his personal issues, absolutely no one. Your partner would just become lovesick and sentimental over it, craving your gentle touch even more than he already did.

So he waited – every night, when everybody else was fast asleep, he would use the bathhouse to wash up after the day. Yeah, maybe he didn’t need to do any of this because he couldn’t sweat anymore anyway, but the routine made him feel more like a human being. And taking a long bath at night came with some other perks! First of all, you always complimented how fresh his hair smelled in the morning, right after you set down next to him and pecked his cheek before blessing him with a smile. Second of all, it reduced the risk of ever running into you when he was undressed. Not that there was any chance at indecent exposure, but the thought of standing naked in front of you. Man, that scared him so bad! That would make everything so real. The bubble would pop and you’d suddenly see him for the skeleton he is, not the man you know him to be.

This night, however, the bathhouse seemed occupied.

Stupid Zoro, ruining his plans. That man was probably so frustrated that you banned anyone from disturbing the nesting bird in the crow’s nest (how ironic!) that he trained all day anywhere else. That’s probably why nobody saw the green-haired swordsman all day! He was busy destroying himself, and now that his muscles are sore, he’s decided to soak in a large tub filled with essential oils. Brook wouldn’t have guessed that Zoro liked to smell quite so familiar; he didn’t seem like the type to enjoy quite so delicate scent.

If he was being honest, it reminded him of you. He shouldn’t even finish the thought because the idea of you smelling like Zoro – or the other way around – caused jealousy to flare up within your boyfriend. He didn’t like that thought at all. Brook knew that this was a ridiculous connection to make. Neither of you would ever flirt with one another, much less behind their fellow crew member’s back, but Zoro… as hard and aloof as he may be to the untrained eye, he was at least human. He could cuddle you to your heart’s content, touching him would be so normal that the feeling of his rough skin wouldn’t even register to you.

You were a deity in human form, so soft, so beautiful. Brook’s breath hitched every time he barely grazed your curves with his bony fingers. His long fingers dug into the slope of your waist whenever you gave him a hug. His heart was always alight with adoration for your beauty even if it was just a mere bonus to your perfect personality. You always looked out for little old him, you wanted to be with him.

He knew, he knew! …It was just too good to be true sometimes.

“Hello, my friend. Yohoho, has the day been kind to you?”

Brook needed to get his mind away from these things. He’ll never find peace that way! For your sake, he needs to be a better man and push those feelings of inadequacy away. Zoro will probably distract him; that man always managed to get into some sort of trou-

“Br-Brook! Hello…”

So… that wasn’t Zoro’s voice. Strange.

Did someone else infiltrate the Sunny? “Don’t faint, oh my God. Don’t faint, Brook! It’s just me. Sorry I startled you. I… couldn’t sleep.”

Just before your skeleton boyfriend could slide down the wall he suddenly had to lean on, very much able to subconsciously recognise your voice blind, he straightened up and tried to flee from the scene. Brook was known to have some indecent jokes in his repertoire, but he’d never try to pull that stunt on anyone, much less you! He respected you, you were his person!

You’d definitely hate him if he not only disturbed your self-care routine, but made you uncomfortable as well, you would rightfully-

“Don’t you want to join me?” “Yoho- HUUUUUHHHH?!”

“It’s fine if you don’t want to! I know it’s weird, you need some time to build trust. It’s just… you rarely initiate any physical touch… I don’t know, do you even like the feeling of it? I can stop if you w-”

Oh… you beacon of kindness and grace. Don’t beat yourself up over his inability to cope with himself, you deserve so much better. Of course he loves it! Don’t you.. hate it? Brook shifted around nervously, clothed back still turned towards you, “Please don’t stop seeking me out, my sweet. I’m sorry for making you feel that way. You don’t have to force yourself to ask me to do anything, I would wait another century to receive your affection, my-” “…Force myself?”, you chuckled sadly, “Brook… I want you here. Come, we’ll bathe together. I can wash your hair if you’d like?”

That’s how he ended up behind you. Bubbles concealed most of your body below the water, but the tantalising hints of your smooth skin were still there to hypnotise him. You were so real, so raw. You felt so right, so true to his being… He would never want to miss you if he could have his way.

“Your limbs are so long, you practically engulf me. I feel so safe in your arms, Brook.”

Don’t make him cry, love…

“It’s probably hard for you. I hope I don’t give you, like, sensory overload. I lit some candles and incense, Robin recommended to add petals to the water, too. She plucked them from her flower bed, all for me. Hope you don’t mind being so close to me.”

...What?

“But I really… well, I don’t want to push you. It’s just that I’d love if you touched me more. I’d love to sit in your lap every morning while you read the newspaper and then I’d feed you like all these couples in cheesy theatres. I want to experience it all with you, Brook, you I can wait! I’d wait forever, as long as you’re happy – oh, but you have to sing for me from time to time. I love your voice and your passion. That’s all I need.”

…You wanted all of this, too, really? With him? Are you absolutely sure? You… you… wanted to annoy others with how sweet you’re being, with how much you’re letting him get away with? Would you like it if he always held your hands in public, making it obvious that you’re taken and… committed to someone like him?

Brook… sighed.

It’s like a weight had been lifted off of him. The shackles of restraint finally broke.

Without another word – he was unnaturally quiet, to be honest – he lifted his phalanges out of the water and your eyes followed his movement with an expression filled with curiosity. You mirrored him in so many ways; you were made for him. His personal salvation.

He felt the underside of your plush chest, hugging your torso to press you even further against him. The flesh against his bones made him self-conscious, but you just smiled in response, thanking him meekly.

Love, you don’t have to thank him for this, ever. He’d worship your essence at an altar if only he could.

This… didn’t feel awkward at all, this was his place. Holding you - this is what being alive felt like, he just knows it.

[brotherwtf]

Post war all the secretaries and typing pool girls at the base are all a little in love with Bucky and he flirts playfully but never seriously (to keep up appearances) with them but one is particularly persistent and keeps walking into his office without waiting or knocking and generally standing too close

Bucky doesn’t notice because he used to female attention but Gale is LIVID and there’s nothing he can do about it without giving them away and they’re already walking a precarious line

One day she actually has the audacity to cop a feel of John’s ass in his uniform pants and no one sees except Gale who is always watching - at this point John knows it’s going to far and asks for her to be quietly reassigned to another area

But when he gets home Gale is furious which manifests as him kissing Bucky within an inch of his life and bending him over the kitchen table

The next day if anyone asks when John is walking funny he’ll say he pulled a muscle in PT and not because he has a bruise the shape of Gale’s mouth on his ass right where she happened to grab him

love this love Gale being outrageously jealous absolutely

maybe this girl is John's secretary, or at least the secretary for the office when John was air exec and who WOULDN'T flirt with big and beautiful John Egan? especially not when he flirts back so easily

but John would always wink at her and wave sweetly when he was walking into his office and she would grin and wave with her pointy red fingernails and lean over to the second secretary and gossip, "do you see a ring on his finger, I don't!"

but of course there wouldn't be a ring on his finger because he has a bite on his neck from one Major Cleven, which means more to John than any ring would

but when John gets demoted and Jack Kidd replaces him, the secretary gets all pouty and glum because Jack is no John, he's all business and even when she tries to flirt with him he shuts it down pretty quick, so she's bored now, and tends to make it blatantly obvious when John and Gale come through to meet with Jack

"ughhh he's so boring and uptight! at least you know how to have a little fun, right Bucky?" she would say, wiggling her eyebrows and biting her lip and John would flashily grin while Gale would glower at her behind John's back

and Gale knows he's being unreasonable, knows he has John wrapped around his finger and that he's only flirting to keep up appearances but Gale is so furiously jealous, wants to brand John as his own so no one else can have him

one night in the O Club they're celebrating the end of the war, celebrating being free men, and the secretary who had seen it all and tried to have been one of the first to see John once he got back from the Stalag sidles up to John easily, puts her long lithe fingers on John's arm, then his waist, and then sneakily cops a feel of his ass before alarm bells start going off in John's head because Gale's right there, he's watching the whole thing, watching her touch him and he quickly pulls her hand off of him, kissing her cheek politely and telling her he needs to call it a night

John knows she sees him leave with Gale, knows that she must have connected the dots but doesn't care because Gale has a tick in his jaw and a toothpick worked to shreds, along with a hotel room to celebrate the end of the war waiting for them

as soon as the door closes and locks, Gale grabs John by the lapels of his shirt and kisses him ferociously, all teeth and tongue and John feels weak in the knees because he's missed this, he's missed how feral Gale gets for him and he's teeming with excitement at the thought of what Gale might do to him

Gale easily shoves John onto the bed because John goes so easily for him, tearing off his uniform and immediately attaching his lips to the skin, biting and making marks while John groans and grips the sheets, grips Gale's hair to steady himself

Gale bites a big and obvious mark right on John's neck, doesn't even care that it will show above the uniform, let it show, let everyone see who John belongs to, and John loves it so so much

Gale fucks John so hard into the bed it creaks and bangs against the wall of the hotel, John has to muffle his noises into his forearm because he's being loud, so loud because it feels so good to be used like this by Gale, to be owned

[transfemme-shelterdog]

Just saw a post that kinda bothered me (and I might follow up with a link to the actual post later if more context is requested but I really don't wanna put anybody on blast so I'm gonna try to do without the link) but. The post itself was complaining about how many people don't know that E doesn't feminine your voice (entirely valid post to make!), and one reblog (not OP) on that post was pointing out somebody in the tags who'd said basically "oh so that's why voice training is a thing i'd never thought about it, thanks op" (paraphrasing to make it slightly less obvious which post I'm talking about because it's got a lot of notes) and the person who added the reblog was like, pretty aggressively like "do you think it's funny to be ignorant about trans women's lives?" and that was the first part that got to me because like. I didn't get that impression at all? I read those tags as a genuine "oh I didn't know that, thanks op!" and maybe it actually was ignorant and bad for that person to add that comment but it read exactly like the kind of thing I would have said and genuinely meant it and it's kinda exacerbating my anxiety about not understanding social cues and being misunderstood :') Then OP came in and made a much longer addition about this issue and a lot of it is entirely fair, some of it is important information with helpful links and stuff, the majority of it is solid but also the tone of a lot of it seems to be just. Really aggressive towards people who don't know things. And assuming malicious intentions in people saying they didn't know when they may have just been genuinely thanking OP for sharing that information and helping them learn something new. It was compared to cishet men being proudly ignorant about AFAB bodies but that wasn't the vibe I got in the slightest, it didn't sound like pride at all, am I just stupid? Shit like this makes me scared to say literally anything even if I only ever have the best of intentions because I clearly I don't know fucking anything about what's considered polite or rude or disrespectful.

Of course terms like TME were used and stuff and part of me wants to be mad too because like. They act as if every queer person has a moral obligation to know all the ins and outs of how transfem medical transition works, and idk maybe we do, but I wonder if these people also know all the ins and outs of how transmasc transitions work. Or if that standard only applies to us and not them.

I don't know. Transfems have the right to be angry especially when a lack of knowledge about these things can hurt people and it is good for all of us to educate ourselves. But the post felt so aggressive to people who didn't already know these things and it felt like such a slap in the face. I wasn't even really the target of this, like I've known the "E doesn't feminise your voice" thing for years, but it just. I don't know, like I said it's the kind of thing that makes me scared to even try talking to people because either something will actually be mean-spirited or wrong for somebody to say and I'll be completely oblivious to it and let people take advantage of me, or I'll be the one who says something with the best of intentions and is assumed to be mocking or being ignorance or dismissive of a serious matter or something like that.

(it also stings seeing posts like this shared by friends but I'm trying to get better at reassuring myself that one uncomfortable post doesn't outweigh the other ones that talk about supporting trans guys and also the support they've given me personally 1-on-1. In past asks I've mentioned how I've been scared to talk to my transfem friends about transandrophobia stuff and how I've been taking baby steps with talking about it a bit and learning to trust them and I am still making slow but steady progress there, it's way easier said than done though and at moments like this it can be hard for me to stand my ground and not regress into distrust again. but like I have a lot of trauma and trust issues so that's probably mostly just on me)

(ALSO I LOOKED THROUGH THE NOTES AND SOME PEOPLE ACTUALLY WERE BEING JOKEY ABOUT IT. WHY DIDN'T YOU PUT ONE OF THEM ON BLAST INSTEAD OF THE PERSON JUST SAYING "OH I DIDN'T KNOW THAT THANKS" IN THE TAGS??? LIKE MAYBE I AM GENUINELY MISSING SOMETHING AND IT ACTUALLY WAS RUDE BUT I CAN'T TELL AND THAT'S PART OF WHAT TERRIFIES ME SO MUCH)

((ALSO ALSO I was about to end the ask there but I went onto the blog of the person who added those tags and just from looking through the description I think he's a cis guy. which would be included under the definition of TME that these posts are using but most of the people in the notes are just talking about transmascs (like OP didn't even specify transmascs this is just all the people in the reblogs. like come on :( why are there so many posts (including so many good and important ones that I completely agree with!) about transfeminism and transmisogyny that have people being constantly transandrophobic in the notes))

anyway this turned into a rant and got kinda off topic at the end I'm just. tired. and kinda scared. I barely get any attention on here aside from one fandom sideblog but I'm terrified that someday I'm gonna say something with the best of intentions and have people assume malice and send a hate campaign my way because I don't understand the nuances of social interaction and I guess being ""TME"" means you're no longer deserving of being given the benefit of the doubt :(

- 🐈‍⬛♠️

I don't expect people to know all the ins and outs of E based HRT and I've always taken the stance that education is better than hostility. Her being this hostile towards people when she herself at one point likely didn't know that E doesn't cause voice changes is sad.

Most people don't know the ins and outs of T based HRT, but you don't see trans guys getting all angry at people for not knowing about atrophy.

It's not something to get mad over.

[kayohhey]

no ones getting context about this one apologies

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The Quest Continues...

(part 1- part 2)

[rambles-about-minecraft-ocs]

one of my favorite things about zedaph is that on a server full of people that find strange and oft-overlooked minecraft mechanics or rare events and then see just how far they can push them in the name of spectacle or efficiency or world-breaking, zed is over here finding these mechanics in order to do the weirdest things he can think of in as entertaining a manner as possible

like i 100% have faith in zedaph's theoretical ability to be just as efficient or spectacular or world-breaking. if he wanted to do that stuff, i trust that he absolutely could. but thats so far from being his priority. instead, hes going to spend around a week of irl time focused entirely on eventually having the good luck to spawn in something insanely rare so that he can convert it into something even rarer, the result of which being something that 99% of the server reacts with complete and utter shock that it even exists in the first place, just because its zany and funny and he wanted to. and i love that

[doctorsiren]

[drawingwilsoneveryday]

[1800-lemon-boy]

While I love the thought process of Percy’s distaste for ares and love for Annabeth were both too strong for Hera herself to remove from Percy’s mind-

You all are missing a much funnier alternative…

Hera was unable to wipe Annabeth from Percy’s brain ✔️

Hera was also unable to wipe the distaste towards ares as it was one of the first times he genuinely didn’t like the gods.

Hera finds it fucking hilarious that the literal god of war lost a fight to a literal 12 year old and wanted to remind ares that he could never live that down. ✔️

<33

[feroluce]

For some weird reason, I've always been fascinated by how wildly different Sampo operates in the Underground vs the Overworld.

Sampo is present in both places and even in official sources, he's not really counted as one side or the other- now that the theory has been confirmed in-game, he's generally just lumped in with the Masked Fools.

But there really is a big difference!

Probably the most obvious and well known instance of Sampo's...business practices *cough burglary and fraud COUGH* in the Overworld is from the Belobog Museum event. In it, you don't find out Sampo is the main culprit until near the end, because Pela has to set up a sting just to catch him in the act. And that sting is necessary all because the initial suspect they arrested, Norbert, had pretty much no idea of his partner's identity. Sampo wouldn't even speak to him face-to-face.

And whereas Sampo is normally very pleasant and friendly with the trailblazer...when he thinks he's talking to Norbert here, he straight up says that they are NOT friends. Like he really shuts that shit DOWN.

There's also an Overworld NPC, Chavez, who heads the "Dark Blue Scam Support Group." And he. Really really really does not like Sampo fjkdasjklfdj

Chavez clearly wants Sampo caught, and has literally no positive feelings about him. So. Why call it the Dark Blue Scam? Why not just out him by name? Chavez obviously doesn't give a single shit about Sampo's dignity or privacy. But he never once refers to him as "Sampo," and even the pamphlets he passes out make no mention of it. No one in the entire support group seems to know how to identify him or how to refer to him except by his hair color. If the trailblazer says his name, Chavez reacts as though he's never heard it before.

(I've seen people say this means Sampo Koski is an alias and not his real name? But Ray pointed this out, and honestly I agree; even the Fools call him Sampo, after all. I think it's just that Chavez never knew Sampo's name in the first place, and given his immense distrust, immediately assumes it's an alias.)

And then there's his characters stories, where he proceeds to pull off a heist in the Overworld while in disguise as Brughel Poisson the entire time. Literally his own stories don't mention Sampo's name even once.

So anyway, all this shows that when he's up in the Overworld working cons, Sampo is incredibly slippery and secretive about his identity. The only people who seem to know him are Pela, Serval, and Gepard. He doesn't get close to anyone else, and is even surprisingly unfriendly. Nobody knows his name. No one knows his face. He has zero qualms about backstabbing or double-crossing, and even plans for it in some cases.

Meanwhile, down in the Underground, I'm pretty sure literally the worst thing we hear of him doing is scalping tickets in front of the Fight Club. Which isn't even illegal in a lot of places (although it's certainly a dick move).

In Hook's companion quest, a vagrant miner steals Fersman's equipment and tries to sell it to Sampo. Even before the trailblazer and Hook jump in and out the vagrant as a thief, Sampo hesitates to buy it because it sounds like stolen goods, which he doesn't want any part of.

Even knowing that a geomarrow detector is rare and incredibly valuable in the mines, Sampo makes no attempt to double-cross Hook or profit off of her loss, and even tells her who to go to to get it fixed.

And my favorite example of Sampo in the Underground is the Survival Wisdom adventure mission. In it, Sampo starts up a business with Peak, another miner. And like. In wild contrast to all the cons he pulls above ground, Sampo is actually super nice and helpful here.

Just the same as with Hook's quest, Sampo talks to Peak face-to-face, with no disguises or barriers. When the trailblazer finds them, they're just in the Great Mine, no secretive meeting places. Peak knows Sampo, is familiar with him, and calls him by name. It's not even a con! There's nothing illegal going on; it really is just a business partnership. Peak is more than happy with their deal, he's even pretty enthusiastic about it, because thanks to Sampo he can now make enough money to get by while also accommodating his chronic fatigue.

The only person Sampo lies to in this whole ordeal is the trailblazer, who he manipulates into getting Peak's mining equipment back from the vagrants that stole it in the first place. And when it's done, he rewards them with a legit treasure map.

So when he's working in the Underground, Sampo is MUCH more upright and lawful. Part of this is probably to do with his "business" model- Sampo only takes advantage of the wealthy, and poverty runs rampant in the Underground. When he charges Peak an extra 30% (the same percentage he charges Norbert as a consultation fee in the museum heists- Sampo seems to go by percentage instead of a flat rate, which means his prices are more fair for lower incomes) for carelessly losing their supply, Peak literally starts counting out pocket change.

Dude's working for pennies and good will down there dknsmdmd

And you can twist this into a Robin Hood thing if you want- Sampo IS technically working to feed orphans and heal the sick. He says himself he's more than happy to make up the shortfall between the greedy and the marginalized- I mean he says it in the shadiest way possible, but I doubt the people benefiting from his work really care that he's a slimeball if it means they can survive another day. Even the two heists he pulls in his character stories are literally just him stealing absurd amounts of food.

Personally though I think it is solely because of Natasha, and Sampo is hilariously well-behaved specifically for her, because she keeps him on a short leash JSKZJMSMSKS