#to think that it's stated in some descriptions

[hollowed-theory-hall]

ok since we’re discussing harry’s appearance and you’ve already clarified what you think he looks like from the neck down, now i’m wondering about his face. obviously, the books provide quite a generous description of him — green eyes, black, messy hair, etc — but i’m more curious about whether you envision him as having delicate features? is his face longer and more masculine or a bit more rounded and doll-like? would he be described as being attractive? handsome? beautiful?

since he’s a carbon copy of james, i’d assume that he genuinely is an attractive boy/man, but since we, as readers, see things so much more from his obviously subjective perspective, we also can’t get a very good feel of these things because harry himself isn’t interested in them. and, well, he is quite oblivious to other’s attentions in general.

i’m just curious what your perception of him is from canon, since i’ve seen so so many variations of his character in fanfictions.

Hi 👋,

(Anon is referring to this post regarding Harry's height and physique)

So, we actually have a ton of little details about Harry's facial features in the books. And, contrary to what many characters say, he isn't really a carbon copy of James, especially if he removes his glasses because some of his prominent facial features are described to be Lily's.

Harry is a kid who has his father’s hair, height, and glasses, so when people look at him from afar he looks like his dad. But if you look at him closely, or he removes his glasses, their faces share similarities, sure, but they are nowhere near as similar as you thought they were a moment ago when he had his glasses on. Like, that's how I see it, and the books support this:

It was as though he was looking at himself but with deliberate mistakes.

(OotP)

Harry is one of these kids who's a pretty equal mix of both their parents in his face. So, if he stood next to James, anyone looking would say they look really similar. If he stood next to Lily, they'd say he looked really similar to her (especially without his glasses).

Harry is mentioned to have his mother’s eyes, not just in color, but also in shape:

it was one of the girls from the lake edge. She had thick, dark red hair that fell to her shoulders and startlingly green almond-shaped eyes — Harry’s eyes.

(OotP)

So, Harry has green almond-shaped eyes like Lily. Almond-shaped eyes look something like this, apparently:

We also have details regarding Harry's nose. Since his nose is more similar to Lily's than James', at least, I think so:

his [James] nose was slightly longer than Harry’s

(OotP)

I imagine Harry to have a more button-shaped nose since it's what I imagine for Lily (James has a straighter nose in my mind). I don't have any quotes for the nose shape though, so it's just my headcanon.

What is canon is that Harry's nose is smaller than James' and Ron's.

As for other features of his face:

but they had the same thin face, same mouth, same eyebrows. James’s hair stuck up at the back exactly as Harry’s did, his hands could have been Harry’s

(OotP)

And Harry is consistently described with a thin face:

Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and bright green eyes

(PS)

So, from these two quotes, we can compose the rest of Harry's face shape (sorta). So Harry has a thin face, thin faces usually look more elongated. I assume his jaw is sharper than Lily's since he takes after James there.

We know his mouth and eyebrows are shaped like James', but I couldn't locate other quotes that were more specific, I take it to state his lips are on the thinner side, and his eyebrows are more masculine in shape since it's what I assume about James' appearance.

Now, I know some of the fandom headcanons Harry as not white, but I personally don't think it's the case in the books. JKR mentions very clearly when a character isn't white, with the expectation that any character that isn't given an ethnicity would be assumed white. It's how she writes, and you can say what you will about that, but it's not what I'm talking about. Additionally, contrary to popular belief, Harry's skin color is mentioned in the books to be white and pale (so is Hermione's actually).

I found a few quotes that outright mention Harry being pale, and therefore, white (this isn't an exhaustive list):

“Harry, dear, are you sure you’re all right?” said Mrs. Weasley in a worried voice, as they walked around the unkempt patch of grass in the middle of Grimmauld Place. “You look ever so pale... Are you sure you slept this morning? You go upstairs to bed right now, and you can have a couple of hours’ sleep before dinner, all right?”

(OotP)

“Are — are you sure you’re okay, Harry? You’re still very pale...”

(OotP)

Their eyes met over the basin, each pale face lit with that strange, green light. Harry did not speak. Was this why he had been invited along — so that he could force-feed Dumbledore a potion that might cause him unendurable pain? “You remember,” said Dumbledore, “the condition on which I brought you with me?”

(HBP)

Both Harry and Dumbledore are mentioned to be pale-skinned.

The word "pale" is used by JKR to describe skin quite often, and even when someone is "pale" when they are scared or stressed, it's because their skin is pale. I haven't seen her use the word for any of the dark-skinned characters (Like Dean Thomas, who was shown to be scared on occasion, but never described as "pale"). Besides being described as "pale", Harry's face is described as white on occasion as well:

Harry had gone very white. As soon as he found his voice he said, “Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!”

(PS)

Breathing very fast, he turned slowly back to the mirror. There he was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking

(PS)

And considering Tom, who is repeatedly described as very pale and white, says:

We even look something alike ...

(CoS)

It's clear Harry looks very English, and therefore, very white. I'd go further and say he's likely quite pale considering how often he is mentioned to be pale + his resemblance to Tom. You can obviously headcanon whatever you want, I'm not stopping you, I'm just saying what the canon is.

I'd note that in general, Harry is pretty handsome and good-looking. In books 5 and 6, he's mentioned to be of interest to many girls, among them the good-looking and popular ones (even if he doesn't realize they are good-looking). Being the Boy Who Lived, rich, and famous gets some of this attention too, yes, but Hermione tells him the fact he is hot helps. Which it does:

“Oh, come on, Harry,” said Hermione, suddenly impatient. “It’s not Quidditch that’s popular, it’s you! You’ve never been more interesting, and frankly, you’ve never been more fanciable.” [...] “And it doesn’t hurt that you’ve grown about a foot over the summer either,” Hermione finished, ignoring Ron.

(HBP)

I know she just mentions he's tall (Ron is there, after all), but the implication is that he's hot and has no idea.

Besides, both James and Lily are described as good-looking by various characters, JKR said of James: "James was reasonably good looking, though not as good looking as Sirius" and considering Sirius is one of the most attractive characters in the series, this is one hell of a compliment. As Harry is a decent mix of both their features, he is likely good-looking. He probably looks pretty cute as a tiny, scrawny kid with bright eyes, and he grows to be more handsome and attractive as he grows. Like, I don't think that many girls would be interested in him in 6th year if he wasn't also handsome, so Hermione is right. Harry isn't as smoking hot as Sirius or Tom Riddle, but he is still very good-looking.

[lostalioth]

𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

→ premise: there existed no such cricumstances in which dean doesnt want your lips against his. bloodied, bruised, even with broken bones, a kiss from his girl makes it all better.

→ pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader

→ warnings: tw: blood, fluff, but some sort of instense making out, established relationship, descriptions of blood and injuries, blood in mouth, nicknames [baby, sweetheart, my girl], reader is described a bit to have anxiety

→ a/n: as always i hope dean isn’t too out of character as i have never written for him! enjoy my loves :) and sorry its short.

A hunt had gone south they got the monster and it was done but Dean was injured, they were headed back to the bunker. That was all Sam spit out over the phone, normally you appreciated his ability to get straight to the point. Currently you were cursing it as he hung up shortly after cause he was the one driving back. You had a million and one questions running through your head and more than half of them weren’t good.

This was the part of the boys going off hunting and you staying back that you hated the most. When one of them got hurt or something went wrong and all you could do was sit there, a chill running down your spine as your blood boiled in your veins, anxiously pacing the living room, trying to not let yourself jump to the worst conclusions which you regularly failed to do.

You used to go on hunts with them and instead of you currently being the one riddle with anxiety, it was Dean. Once the two of you pulled your heads out of your asses (as Sam would say) and realized you’ve had feelings for each other for years, you got together. Being officially together seemed to make Dean's protective nature increase tenfold. He was even more terrified to lose you now than before. He began fussing over you whenever you'd get even the slightest scarpe or bump on a hunt. He would glue himself to your side the whole duration. Forcing you to normally stay back in the motel room when the hunt turned into a more dangerous situation than dean cared to put you in.

You loved Dean but it began to get a bit too tedious to deal with and even Sam made a comment on how overprotective he was being. In an attempt to make hunts go easier and ease your boyfriend's anxiety, once you all situated yourselfs in the bunker you suggested to him that you go out on hunts less, especially when they could now take Cas. Dean jumped at the suggestion but you couldn't blame him.

“I think that's a great idea baby” he said with a kiss to your forehead.

You still helped out, researching things when Sam needed the help, going through old books and files in the library, patching them up when they’d come back with cuts and bruises. You hadn't realized just how jittery you'd be however stuck in the bunker when he was out and especially when they went on far away hunts.

They'd go to the hospital when things were really bad, so you knew if the boys were on their way back then it couldn’t be too bad. The reminder did nothing to sooth your racing thoughts, your heart thumping so hard you could practically hear it pounding in your ears. You didn't know just how long you've been pacing back and forth, too afraid to look up at the clock and realize it's only been a few minutes since Sam called.

You don't hear the sound of baby pulling into the garage, your head is too clouded as you were damn near about to wear a grove down into the old floors. The sound of a door shutting loudly and two sets of heavy footsteps are heard down the hallway. Spinning so quickly on your feet you nearly lose your balance you turn to face the noise. Watching as the brothers emerge from the dark hall, Dean's arm rests on Sam's shoulder almost using him like a human crutch. You let out a small gasp making them stop and both of their eyes snap up to yours, whether you gasped in surprise at the state of your boyfriend or in relief you can’t tell.

“Hi sweetheart, We’re home” Dean tilts his head, his voice laced with his usual sarcasm and deep tone. He pushes off of Sam, clearly able to at least stand on his own, slowly making his way over to you a small limp in his step.

In the blink of an eye you’re rushing into his arms, your soft hands grabbing ahold of his beaten up face and crashing your lips against his. He grunts out a “fuck” in surprise or pain the word dying in his throat turning into a noise as his eyes fall shut and he grabs ahold of your hips. With a sharp tug he pulls your body as close as he can to his, his hands sliding up your sides. His bloodied lips against your plush ones, kissing you like a man starved, a kiss you’ve come accustomed to when he comes home from longer hunts. “Missed you” he hums in a hushed tone into the kiss for only you to hear, making your racing heart only speed up. His blood flows into your opened mouth as the kiss goes on, the metallic taste on your tongue foreign but you were far too relieved he was back in one piece to care about the blood coating your tongue.

Any pain Dean felt after the whole ordeal and from the bumpy ride back to the bunker seemed to fade from his body. He could care less about his brother's presence still in the room or the blood still dripping from his face and that covered his clothes or his split lip. It felt as if all the bruises that were forming on his body were already being kissed away as your soft lips slid against his. The taste of your mouth overcoming the taste of the blood in his, your scent calming his body, reminding him he's finally home again. Your body grounding him.

A rough deep cough stops the moment making the two of you reluctantly pull away, lips swollen and parted as you catch your breath.

“Before this gets any more R-rated maybe we should patch him up and you know clean him up” Sam suggested with a small light hearted chuckle as he walks off to the bathroom to get the first aid kit. You were grateful you remembered just yesterday that it had needed to be restocked. “Sorry Sammy” Dean calls after him, you turn your head away and follow up with a “Sorry not sorry” down the hall after him making a small smirk grow on your boyfriend's face.

Once he's out of eye sight, Dean grabs ahold of your face by lightly squeezing your cheeks and turns your head back to face him. Leaning down to begin softly kissing you again, groaning against your lips when the pain in his body begins to return.

“Who needs a first aid kit, all i need is my girl's kisses” He mumbled softly against your mouth, making you break out into a smile. A small tear slips down your cheek, your breath returning to your lungs and the chill in your spine fading as relief finally settled over your body knowing he's okay.

→ a/n: if you enjoyed please reblog or send me some dean requests id love to write more for him!

[literaryvein-reblogs]

4 Great Motives for Writing by George Orwell

George Orwell:

From a very early age, perhaps the age of five or six, I knew that when I grew up I should be a writer. Between the ages of about seventeen and twenty-four I tried to abandon this idea, but I did so with the consciousness that I was outraging my true nature and that sooner or later I should have to settle down and write books. Putting aside the need to earn a living, I think there are four great motives for writing, at any rate for writing prose. They exist in different degrees in every writer, and in any one writer the proportions will vary from time to time, according to the atmosphere in which he is living. They are:

(i) Sheer egoism. Desire to seem clever, to be talked about, to be remembered after death, to get your own back on grown-ups who snubbed you in childhood, etc., etc. It is humbug to pretend this is not a motive, and a strong one. Writers share this characteristic with scientists, artists, politicians, lawyers, soldiers, successful business men – in short, with the whole top crust of humanity. The great mass of human beings are not acutely selfish. After the age of about thirty they abandon individual ambition – in many cases, indeed, they almost abandon the sense of being individuals at all – and live chiefly for others, or are simply smothered under drudgery. But there is also the minority of gifted, willful people who are determined to live their own lives to the end, and writers belong in this class. Serious writers, I should say, are on the whole more vain and self-centered than journalists, though less interested in money.

(ii) Aesthetic enthusiasm. Perception of beauty in the external world, or, on the other hand, in words and their right arrangement. Pleasure in the impact of one sound on another, in the firmness of good prose or the rhythm of a good story. Desire to share an experience which one feels is valuable and ought not to be missed. The aesthetic motive is very feeble in a lot of writers, but even a pamphleteer or writer of textbooks will have pet words and phrases which appeal to him for non-utilitarian reasons; or he may feel strongly about typography, width of margins, etc. Above the level of a railway guide, no book is quite free from aesthetic considerations.

(iii) Historical impulse. Desire to see things as they are, to find out true facts and store them up for the use of posterity.

(iv) Political purpose – using the word ‘political’ in the widest possible sense. Desire to push the world in a certain direction, to alter other people’s idea of the kind of society that they should strive after. Once again, no book is genuinely free from political bias. The opinion that art should have nothing to do with politics is itself a political attitude.

It can be seen how these various impulses must war against one another, and how they must fluctuate from person to person and from time to time. By nature – taking your ‘nature’ to be the state you have attained when you are first adult – I am a person in whom the first three motives would outweigh the fourth. In a peaceful age I might have written ornate or merely descriptive books, and might have remained almost unaware of my political loyalties.

Looking back through the last page or two, I see that I have made it appear as though my motives in writing were wholly public-spirited. I don’t want to leave that as the final impression. All writers are vain, selfish, and lazy, and at the very bottom of their motives there lies a mystery. Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist or understand. For all one knows that demon is simply the same instinct that makes a baby squall for attention. And yet it is also true that one can write nothing readable unless one constantly struggles to efface one’s own personality. Good prose is like a windowpane. I cannot say with certainty which of my motives are the strongest, but I know which of them deserve to be followed. And looking back through my work, I see that it is invariably where I lacked a political purpose that I wrote lifeless books and was betrayed into purple passages, sentences without meaning, decorative adjectives and humbug generally.

Published in Gangrel, No. 4, Summer 1946

More: George Orwell

[eightlightstar]

Wander

pairing: Lee Jihoon x AFAB Reader genre: meet-cute, NANA TOUR based, fluff, idol x fan relationship warning(s): reader's feelings are hurt by Woozi's cautionary words (not that deep), descriptions of a kiss(?) word count: 4.1 k (my first fic of this size!) recommended song: _World by Seventeen banner credits: @staranghae

Woozi was not a wanderlust, and it was a well established fact. That's why he was worried sick as him and the guys were waiting for JunHao to get through immigration. How was a homebody to enjoy a vacation with his loved ones when most of the itinerary was outdoorsy?

His impending doom face must've been hard to miss because Dokyeom was scooting closer as he asked him, "Hyung? You look like you've seen a ghost! Is something wrong?" Seeing a worried Dokyeom made him snap out of his negative spiral. "Ah it's nothing much. I was just wondering how I'm going to handle being out & about since I stay indoors all the time. It's fine though, I guess. It's a relief you all are there at least. I hope I'll not be too disoriented…?" Woozi finished in a confused tone.

"Are you telling me or asking me Hyung?" Dokyeom said and laughed. "You never give such a long explanation to something unless it actually bothers you enough; so, I can see that you're wary of what's to come. It may be a vacation for us, but it might be an ordeal to you. That's why me and the guys will do our best to make sure you have a great time with us. Sound good?" He chirps and hugs Woozi tightly. "Thanks, Kyeom. I don't think I can live without you all." Woozi whispers as he hugs him back.

Woozi was surprised to find that he wasn't uncomfortable with anything that was happening! Everything was great and he was thoroughly enjoying himself right from the moment they had stopped at the Colosseum, to the wine festival they were currently at. He doesn't exactly drink; so, before coming here, he had felt that it would be useless for him to go there and ruin the others' mood by his predicament. Joshua must've sensed his discomfort because he was by Woozi's side the next instant. "Hey, Woozi. You look a bit...uncomfortable?" he asked hesitantly. "No, I'm not uncomfortable, hyung. I'm just wondering what would a person like me do at a wine festival" Woozi supplied forlornly.

"Maybe you'll find something a person like you can do here after all", Joshua said while wiggling his eyebrows up and down. "Hah...hyung you're not drunk, are you?" Woozi asked while sighing at the antics of the older member. "No Jihoonie, just trying to cheer you up with a world of possibilities. I suggest you go about on your own. Having 12 others around is not always enjoyable you know", he says with a wry smile. "Yeah, I guess", Woozi shrugs unsurely but does take his hyung's advice.

As Woozi navigates the crowded wine festival alone, he goes from stall to stall trying some wine here and there. He doesn't know exactly when he gets drunk but the moment he realises, he looks for a place to stop and breathe. While looking here and there among a sea of people, he spots a stall that is not at crowded at all except for one young lady. He goes (read: stumbles) there and sighs in relief. He leans down to check out the different wines on the counter of the stall and notices the lady's keychain as he straightens up. It was a CARATBONG keychain and Woozi doesn't even finish thinking that 'CARATs are everywhere' when him and the woman make eye contact. The woman's eyes comically widen before she composes herself quickly. "Hi?" she says unsurely in Korean.

"You're Korean!?" Woozi asks a little too loudly in his tipsy state. "Ah sorry I think I must've drunk too much wine", he immediately apologises sheepishly. "Not just too much, many different wines too, I guess," says the woman and giggles. "Yes, I am Korean. Korean American actually. But yeah", she adds. "This might be stupid to ask but you do know me, right? Also, can I get your name? asks Woozi, surprising himself. "It's L/n Y/n. And I don't know how to reply to the other question, Woozi", she says as she stifles a smile with the back of her hand.

"Ah wonderful. But first and foremost, do not ask why I'm here in Italy. You'll get to know soon. Okay?", Woozi warned the CARAT hurriedly. "Duh. Of course you're filming something. I'm not completely dumb seeing as I've known Seventeen since debut but go off, I guess", she says in mock anger. "Ah I didn't mean that, I'm sorry. Fans tend to ask for photos or signatures and sometimes even pester us. It was precautionary you know just in-" "It's fine Woozi. I know how bad it can get. Wine?" she cuts his rambling as she shows him what she's currently drinking. "Thanks," Woozi mutters and asks the stall owner to pour him some.

"So, since I can't tell you what I'm doing here, tell me about yourself. What're you doing in Italy? Do you live in Korea? And oh, who's your bias in our group?", Woozi yaps away after taking a few sips of the woody wine. "WOW, who are you and what have you done to our Woozi?", Y/n asks in astonishment but humours this New Woozi anyway. "I'm here on a solo vacation as I just got some time off from work. Yes, I live in Korea. Actually, I live in Yongsan, so I often see you guys near the HYBE building, hehe. But coming back to your question, and not because you are the one I'm talking to, my bias has been you since the Melona Green Room days", she finishes in one breath and inhales deeply.

"WOW", is all Woozi manages. "But seriously, how are you talking so much? And that too with a fan you happened to meet by chance?", Y/n enquires curiously. "Well, Joshua was going on about the world of possibilities or something so I'm trying to get out of my comfort zone?", Woozi answers, albeit apprehensively. "That's actually very Josh of him, but also true. As your fan, I'm glad you're exploring new possibilities, she says and beams at him. "Yeah, but the only reason I talked to you was because I saw your CARATBONG keychain", he admits bashfully. "Aww and here I thought you talked to me because you found me pretty or something", she teases and Woozi has never been so out of his depth.

"Uh..." "Oh come on, I'm just teasing. I know you would rather talk to a stranger who's a CARAT than not" she says and giggles. Her giggles do something to Woozi's heart that he can't quite place. "Fans never talk this comfortably with us you know, they are usually very nervous or too excited. You're...astonishingly calm for a person who's talking to her bias". It was now Woozi's turn to tease Y/n. "Uh...". "Oh, come on, I'm just teasing", Woozi says triumphantly. "Wow...that's a low blow, Woozi. But I'm not offended because oh my god I love this new Woozi!?", she says as she gawks at her reformed bias. "Yeah, I hope I won't regret this tomorrow morning", he says in a hopeful tone. "Okay now I'm offended", Y/n says in a small voice.

"Hey, again, I'm sorry but if you've been here since debut, you know how some people take advantage of us interacting with them like-" "-like normal humans yeah, I know", she cuts him off and finishes his sentence yet again and he's pretty sure his heart did a somersault. "But I thought I already proved to you that I was different? I didn't need to and didn't even intend to prove myself different or anything, but it just happened. Anyway, I'm sure it's not easy for you to trust a stranger you just met even if I am a CARAT. I've only been extra nice because I know how fans get. I just thought it'll be a nice break for you, you know..." she says in a hurt voice.

Woozi regrets his words deeply as he looks at the hurt in her eyes. He makes a bold decision to set this misunderstanding straight. "Okay, for the last time, I'm sorry. This is me trusting and making up to the most wonderful fan I've ever met, who just happens to be my fan. Gimme your phone", he says. "Huh?" Y/n asks quizzically but still hands it to him. He flips it to the back to check just in case and sure enough, he finds a photocard of himself nestled behind a clear cover. "Aha! Now I know for sure I'm your bias", he teases while typing a number onto the keypad and saving it as Lee Jihoon. "That's my number. I feel like you're a person I can get to know so call me when you're back in Korea. I'll go back in a few days too. Okay?", he asks with hope in his eyes.

"But do you really want an unknown number calling you? When you already get so many calls from fans?", she asks him dryly. "Ah I hadn't thought of that. Wait, send me a message on Kakao right now", he says with a twinkle in his eyes as if he had just thought of the greatest idea in the world. "And what should I say?", she asks. "Ugh, just open the messenger and give it to me. Quick I need to go back to the group" Woozi says hurriedly as he checks the time. Y/n hands him her phone with his contact open on Kakao messenger. His fingers fly on the keypad of her phone as he sends a message to himself. "There, now I will know it's you" he beams like he had just won an award. Y/n is touched by the fact that he would go to such lengths to placate a fan who was simply treating him like a fellow human being. "Thank you, Woozi. It was wonderful meeting you. See you in Korea" she says as she waves at him. "See you in Korea Y/n" he says and leaves.

-Time Skip- (The story switches to Y/n's POV)

The rest of the vacation went by in a whirlwind for both you and Woozi. Both of you almost completely forgot your encounter with each other until you were trying to type a message to your friend and accidentally open your chat with Woozi.

cheers to youth.mp3

You stare at the message in utter confusion and think to yourself. 'How do I contact him further? Shouldn't he be the one who has to recognise whatever this cryptic message is and reply to me?' You sigh, exit his chat, message your friend like you had originally intended to, and go on about your day. You don't think about Woozi after that.

As for Woozi, he was insanely busy trying to catch up on and finish everything for their latest album Seventeenth Heaven. NANA TOUR had been a much-needed break yet now he had no choice but to work himself to death as comeback was almost upon them. It was after about 3 weeks that Woozi decided to (read: had the time to) reply to the messages he had ignored since he left for NANA TOUR. Surprisingly, there was only 1 message from an unknown number but just as he was about to delete it, he caught sight of the content of the message.

cheers to youth.mp3

Woozi was shell shocked. How had someone texted him the name of the Vocal Unit song file which was from their next album after Seventeenth Heaven!? His mind was reeling, and he was almost about to go nuts when his mind thankfully went to & stopped at the memory of his encounter with you at the Wine Festival in Italy.

"Oh my God that's Y/n!" he said aloud to himself. He immediately called you. You were just walking back home from a convenience store and were actually just opposite the HYBE building when you received a call. You were confused yet thrilled when you saw it was Woozi who was finally calling you! "Hello? Y/n?", Woozi asked nervously. "Yes, this is her, Woozi", you replied as you giggled. "Ah now I know it's you for sure" he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. "And how do you know that may I ask?" you ask haughtily (comical). "Your giggles. I distinctly remember them. They're music to my ears", Woozi says adoringly before he even realises what he had just said.

"My giggles are music to the God of Music? I am honoured!" you say as you tease him. "Uh...I didn't mean...uh actually it kinda slipped out but..." Woozi hesitates for a while until he finally snaps and actually tells you what he wanted to tell you. "Okay fuck this. Will you go out on a date with me?" "...a date? I..." It was your turn to hesitate now. "Come on y/n, I think I've filled the hesitation quota for today. Not you too", he whines.

"But you're already asking me out on a date when we didn't even talk after our first encounter?", you ask him unsurely. "Uh, yes. I thought this might come up", Woozi says monotonously on the phone. "Obviously!", you say, now slightly annoyed. "Well, what can I say? I saw the CARATBONG and thought it was a lucky coincidence. And then I saw your face and thought I was the one who was lucky. And then as I talked to you, I finally realised that it was fate. I was fated to see you, meet you, and get to know you. So...uh...to me, it was only natural to ask you out as soon as possible", Woozi finishes in one breath.

"WOW...that's...I'm floored Jihoon", you say as your heart does an entire gymnastics routine. "So, it's a yes to the date?", Woozi asks you hopefully. "Yes, and as fate would have it, I'm standing right opposite the HYBE building hehe" you say while making sure to emphasise the word 'fate'. "Really? I'm in the studio. Can you come towards the left of the building? I could see you from the window!" Woozi tells you excitedly. You move to where the Universe Factory window is and sure enough, there was Woozi. Standing at the window looking at you and waving as he says "Hi" through the phone. "So, when is the date you just asked me on?" you ask as you look at him. "Today. I'll text you the details so be ready, okay?" he says and waves at you before hanging up.

Then he quickly opens the shopping app on his phone and starts looking for a dress to give as a present to you. He finds a beautiful ruby coloured dress after scrolling for a while. He thinks about the first time he saw you with a wine glass in your hand and decides it would be the perfect dress. He selects the size and hopes he got it right from whatever he saw of you at the wine festival from almost a month ago. Then, he texts you. "Hey Y/n, can you send me your home address? I'll send someone to pick you up from there and bring you to HYBE's parking lot. Then we can go together from here in a car that has blacked out windows. Sound good?"

You see the text and muse that it was an ingenious plan. Nothing suspicious crosses your mind so you simply send him the address. "See you soon, xoxo", you add. Unbeknownst to you, Jihoon almost faints from giddiness when he sees the 'xoxo'. He quickly types in your address and makes sure to get the fastest delivery option available, which happened to be more expensive than the dress itself, despite the store being in Yongsan! But all he cared about was seeing you wearing his present; so, after wrapping up the gift situation, he quickly got ready in the spare suit that he keeps in Universe Factory for 'just in case' situations.

As soon as he touched up his appearance and was ready to leave, he gets an update from the shopping app that the delivery has been made. As he feels relieved that his present reached you in time, you call him. "Jihoon, did you just send me a dress?", you ask in disbelief. "I mean, that's it what it looks like, doesn't it?", Woozi replies cheekily. "But whyyy, you didn't have to you know. Also, 'ruby'? Really?', you ask you first whine and then deadpan. "Ah, it wasn't because of my song. It was to commemorate our first meeting - at the wine festival", he explains hurriedly. "Fine, how long till your manager gets here? Do I have to get ready quickly?", you ask worriedly. "Oh wait! I'm actually ready right now. I'll come get you myself and we can go directly from your place. You can text me when you're ready okay? Meanwhile, I'll reserve a table for us. Yeah?", he asks sincerely. "Sure Jihoon. Thank you. I was worried about having to meet your manager before meeting you again. So, I'm glad it's you who I'll be seeing directly" you say as you thank him. "Ah no need to thank me, Y/n. Now go get ready. Bye!", Jihoon says, and you end the call with a soft "Bye Jihoon".

The dress was a perfect fit and you were surprised he guessed your size correctly. But this is also why you realise he's genuinely interested in you and smile to yourself in disbelief. It was true you were obsessed with your bias...but to have your bias be obsessed with you was a whole another feeling. You sent Jihoon a quick text saying you were ready. To your shock, his reply read, "Come down then, I'm already waiting in your apartment's parking lot. I'm inside the black Carnival facing towards the exit". You were touched that he came and chose to wait for you without coming up to your place. 'Such a gentleman', you think to yourself and quickly go down to meet your bias (read: soon-to-be-boyfriend).

You get inside the car and both of you simply stare at each other for a whole minute before both of you breathe out in unison, "Beautiful!". Laughter bubbles immediately as you both realise you are deep in this thing with each other. He holds out his hand to you and you take it, and he simply keeps it on his lap while soothingly rubbing circles with his thumb. The car ride is silent apart from the giggles that come from both of you when you catch the other looking at you.

It's a very fancy place (obviously since your date happens to be an idol with 100+ KOMCA credits) and both of you make your way in through the back entrance and inside a private booth. He pulls out your chair and lets you sit before sitting opposite to you. "I'm glad the dress fit you perfectly. I hope you like it?", he asks shyly. "Of course! I love it, Jihoon! You have pretty good taste I must say. Music and clothing alike", you say as you tease him. "Ah stop bringing up the song, Y/n", he says like a hurt puppy. "Okay okay fine", you placate him and giggle.

The rest of the date goes by in you both getting to know each other by yapping away well into the night, occasionally eating a bite of your otherwise untouched food. Suddenly, you feel very hungry so you stop mid-ramble and say, "I'm really hungry Jihoon, shall we continue talking after we eat?", you ask with puppy eyes and who is Jihoon to refuse. "Sure baby", the nickname slips out very naturally and he doesn't even notice it. You blush at that but continue to eat without telling him anything. Once in the car after a nice dinner, you both start to yap yet again. You were so lost in conversation with each other that the driver had to tell you that you had arrived at your apartment's parking lot. "Can I come till your door and say goodnight?", Jihoon asks hopefully. "Sure honey. Let's go!", you say, a little excited. You don't notice the nickname you slipped in, but Jihoon does and smiles shyly to himself.

As you open your door and turn to wish him a goodnight, he moves a bit closer and asks in a whisper, "Can I kiss you goodnight?". Your heart races as you whisper a "Yes" back. The kiss is magical, it's beyond anything you've ever imagined. Jihoon must be feeling the same, going by his grip on your waist. Your lips move effortlessly against his as if you had been kissing each other all your life. You only separate when both of you need to breathe. "That was some goodnight kiss alright" you say in a daze. "Sorry if I was...", Jihoon begins. "Oh, shut up Jihoon. It was perfect. I loved it", you say as you hug him before letting him go. "Next date, my idea. Okay?", you say as you get ready to close the door. "Sure, love", he says before he walks away from your door after waving goodbye to you.

Several dates go by with the both of you taking turns to make the date as amazing as possible for the other. The one you were currently on was some 13th date or something, but it was a very simple one suggested by you because Jihoon had once again been working himself to the bone and you had wanted to do something about it. "Date idea, listen. I come to Universe Factory with some food, we eat, and then...we take a nap on that unnecessarily huge couch. Okay?", you tell Jihoon sternly in the morning, after seeing him stare at Cubase on his computer all night the previous day. "Okay baby, whatever you say", he says as he gets up to go to work. "See you at lunch, love. Bye", he says and hugs you before leaving.

You make an elaborate spread of Jihoon's favourite dishes, box them up and make your way to HYBE. It had been 2 months since the day you had met Jihoon in Italy, and you had been dating him for 1 month now. It was only natural that all the members got to know you and became close to you instantly, much like the way Jihoon had. They took you under their wing and you had felt like you had won in life - dating your bias and being friends with the other members? Yeah, that's the dream and you were living it. With these thoughts, you reach the building. You go in the general elevator from the parking lot and reach the floor Universe Factory is on.

When you get there, you notice several pairs of shoes outside and knock hesitantly. "Come in, Y/n", a group of people chorus. You realise it's the members and breathe in relief as you enter the code and unlock the door. "Hii Y/n!" says Hoshi cheerfully while Seungcheol waves at you and Vernon nods in your direction. "What're y'all doing?", you ask curiously. "Getting some songwriting done for the next album", Vernon says and tiredly. "You all look tired though. How can you express yourselves properly with tiredness clouding your thoughts?", you ask worriedly. "You have no idea," says Seungcheol, a little miserably. "I got food! Do y'all wanna eat with us?", you offer. "No Y/n, you're very kind. We know you and Jihoon have a date now haha. We'll make our way out and leave you to it", Hoshi says and winks.

"Yeah, yeah whatever. I'll see you guys at practice?" says Woozi as he goes to the door to lock it after they leave. "Sure Woozi. Rest well with Y/n and come to practice with a fresher mind, yeah?" the boys fuss over him a little bit before finally leaving. Meanwhile, you open the packaged food and set the small dining table for the both of you. "WOW! These are all my favourite dishes, baby! Thank you!", Jihoon says with delight in his eyes. "Hehe I'm glad you love it, honey. Dig in", you say as you start eating too.

After a hearty meal, both of you got comfortable on the 'suspiciously wide couch' of the studio. As Woozi hummed long and got ready for his forced/much needed nap, you took a trip down memory lane. It was mere months ago that you had met Woozi by chance at a wine festival in Italy. And you both had hit it off instantly. It was probably the wine, but you had loved 'Yapper Woozi'. Being a CARAT, his personality at the time had been a pleasant whiplash to you. "I can hear you think babe. Please sleep if you don't want to make me regret wandering around Italy & finding you. You giggle as you cuddle him close. "It's probably a good thing that you did wander".

tags: @forever-atiny, @minhui896, @staranghae, @welcometomyoasis

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[romanarose]

The River

Joel Miller x Black!fem!reader

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Summary: Joel and Sarah's mom! reader the days he's conceived, written to Bruce Springsteen's The River in honor of his birthday today!

Warnings: Virginity loss for both, piv sex, skinny dipping, not a happy end, if you want the spoiler look at notes at the end. Classmate calls reader a name but its never stated so you can fill in the blank however fitting you feel, but its implied its either a slur or a derogatory word towards women. Story starts with joel and reader in HS and 17, but 18 when the smu happens. If this makes you uncomfortable, thats fine. Dont read it.Some drinking but everyone is consenting, and at 18 in the 80's in the us you can drink Immersivity: reader is at least biracial as fitting with the show TLOU. Not super descriptive there bc I wanted it to remain pretty open but I mentioned hair care for curls and dark skin

Happy birthday Bruce!!!! I love you

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto

I come from down in the valley

Where, mister, when you're young

They bring you up to do like your daddy done

  It started at 17, just kids. You were like something out of a dream to a teen. Well, a wet dream. You dressed so unlike everyone around him, showing off skin in a way scandalous to the bible belt you were living in. Joel was taught that impure thoughts and sex before marriage was sinful, shameful.

A year later, it didn’t feel shameful with you. 

When you moved here during yours and Joel’s senior  year, you and Joel met at a party and it was all over for him the second he saw you in that pretty black dress that dipped so low… Dark, thick curls spiraled around your head in a halo and beautiful dark skin. Joel was certain you weren’t looking his way even once. Joel wasn’t unpopular by any means, but if he were honest a lot of his circle came from either playing baseball or being Tommy’s brother . 

Tommy was a linebacker on the football team, something much cooler than baseball was. Joel didn’t think himself ugly, he thought he was decent to look at, but his nose got in the way, just planted large smack in the middle of his face. Tommy had similar features, but for some reason they meshed together better. Tommy was also just so much more extraverted, friendly as they came. And none of it was fake, Tommy was genuine and that's why people liked him. That’s why Tommy lost his virginity long before Joel had his first kiss.

When you walked over and struck up a conversation with him of all people, Joel’s eyes nearly popped out of his face.

“Hey.” You told him your name. “I start school next week with y’all”

“”M Joel,” He reached out shaking your hand, a move that made you grin ear to ear. “Nice t’meecha”

“You’re cute, Joel, wanna talk outside?”

An hour later, you and Joel hadn’t spoken to a single otyour soul. He watched as envious eyes lingered on them, pride swelling in his chest at having the prettiest girl at the party wearing his jacket as you sat on the porch. 

“HEY MILLER!” A teammate of Tommy’s shouts at Joel from below the porch. “Gonna finally score a homerun?”

When you looked at him confused, Joel explained the metaphor. “I play baseball.”

“YEAH AND HE”S NEVER SCORED WITH A GIRL!”

“THANKS DAN I THINK You GOT IT!!” Joel shouted to the jeering boy who’d drawn a bit of a crowd. When he turns back to you, you weren’t weirded about him being a virgin still, instead you were smiling.

“I’m a virgin too, don’t worry. Wanna really show ‘em how stupid they look?” You whisper.

Joel laughs, smiling something dopey. “Please…”

Swinging one leg over the porch railing, a move that spread your legs and rode your skirt up. You grab his shirt, yanking him towards you and kissing him right tyoure in the porch light, getting bitten by mosquitos. This creates a bunch of loud whooping from everyone except Dan, more people gatyouring to watch the show. Joel about passed out, ready to fall off the porch and die a happy man. He didn’t, holding onto your leg as you giggled into his mouth at the reactions of everyone around them.

After that, only death could separate Joel from you. 

Me and Mary we met in high school

When she was just seventeen

We drive out of this valley

Down to where the fields were green

“Hey Miller!” Dan called after him in the hall, but Joel wasn’t interested in talking to him.

That school year had been a wild one to be sure. You joined the cheer team, but admitted later it was so that you could see Joel more, an excuse to talk to him. Joel was absolutely baffled at the concept that you thought you needed a reason to talk to him after he’d kissed you, but sweet nonetheless. 

Dan had tried in vain to steal you out from under him, but to Joel’s surprise you showed no interest. After that, he got mean. Joel frequently found himself telling Dan to shut the fuck up, defending you even though the relationship still didn’t have a name. It was stolen smiles in class, study dates, choosing to spend your 18th birthday with him at the local diner instead of a party.  DIdn’t matter. He wasn’t going to let Dan talk the way he did about you. It’d never escalated to more than a few shoves in the locker room, resulting in being separated by Tommy and anotyour teammate. Their coach said if Dan causes more problems to let him know.

And then, Dan crossed a line. The crowded hallway was loud, people pushing around to get the hell out of school and onto their next event but Joel heard him loud and clear. The hall got real quiet, everyone between Dan and you and Joel hearing with Dan called you, and it was over. 

“Joel…” You warn, feeling him squeeze your hand tighter. “Don-” but he was gone, letting go and lunging at Dan like he was tackling in a game.

The fight didn’t last long, Joel a little better off than Dan was by the time they were pulled apart, which is why the coach suspended Joel for 2 days instead of Dan. They told the coach, multiple students testifying, what Dan had called you but he never go any repercussions. That just makes Joel all the more happy he broke his nose.

You were his after that. Officially. Boyfriend and girlfriend and inseparable. Every game, you were there cheering him on and every night you worked he was there to walk you home. 

When the summer turned warm, Joel decided he wanted to share something special with you.

It was a secret spot, a place Joel grandpa used to take him and Tommy to fish before he passed. They pair had grown up swimming there when they could get their hands on a car in the summer, and it was somewhere that few people knew about. A quiet lake, the perfect place to fish and swim or just relax. Joel managed to borrow your brothers car, people trusting him as he was responsible, unlike Tommy. He even packed you a picknick, making it a nice date. He knew he was romantic as shit. He didn’t plan on what happened happening, but he knew it would be a special afternoon.

The week after graduation in Texas was already warm, the world bright and happy around him as college approached. You and him had plans to move to Austen together, he had gotten a few good grants for low income students and was going to attend the tech school, get into electrician work. He even knew a place where he could apprentice in the city, and hopefully by the time you graduate with your 4 year degree he would have his journeymans. You had gotten an excellent scholarship, and between that and the money saved from the last few years of both of you working, if you guys budgeted well you would graduate almost debt free. Then, find permanent jobs, get a house, get married, have kids… the entire world was in the palm of your hands.

You hadn’t taken the big step, even after 7 months of dating, you were still virgins. You wanted to… but wyoure? On the bottom bunk of the bunk bed Joel and Tommy still shared in the tiny mobile home? Or at your place, wyoure your mom made you keep the door open at all time? Joel certainly wasn’t going to deflower you in the back of a car, he wasn’t a fucking animal. Still, he liked to think what ended up happening was perfect.

You loved it.

We'd go down to the river

And into the river we'd dive

Oh, down to the river we'd ride

“Joel!!!” An excited squeal escaped your lips as he finished setting everything up. There were even a bundle of wildflowers on the blanket he sprawled out on the grass. 

“M’grandpa used to take me  n’ Tommy here ‘fore he died.” Joel explained, standing up and stepping back to admire his work. There was a tinge of longing, reminiscing on those old days, childhood that he was soon to leave behind for a life with you. There'll always be nostalgia, but he had to fear facing the future with you by his side. He’d do it all in your honor. Joel felt your hand on his back.

“He sounds great, baby.”

Joel smiled. “Yeah, he was.” But he turned to hug yo. The smell of your hair was always something he took his time to appreciate. Throughout these months, he’d learned a lot about taking care of your hair, and absolutely adored the smell of coconut oil. He'd gotten pretty damn good at braiding. Sometimes you’d even put the oil in his hair, and Joel loved the scalp massage too much he was practically purring. That;s how you learned he had a sensitive scalp. Very sensitive.

Got anything to drink?” You smiled, trying to distract him.

He paused for a bit, then finally smiled for the first time tonight. “Yeah, yeah I do.”

Joel pulled out the glasses, iced tea, rum, and sliced lemons; Long Island iced tea.

Joel insisted on holding the ice to your lip as You sipped through your straw and drank his own. Joel was more of a beer guy himself, the guys would never let it go if they caught him drinking this, but for your, he’d drink it. Plus, it actually tastes good. Beer does not.

Now, Joel was Joel again. He laughed along to your stories and shared quips about the guys at the shop as they sat on the blanket he laid out by the banks. He braided your hair back for you, tying it up nice and tight so the river water doesn’t ruin it.

“You ready to swim?” You asked.

Joel grinned “Absolutely. I brought some spare clothes, I figured you couldn’t exactly sneak out with swimwear.”

“Actually…” You stood up. “I was thinking we could just…” You took off your shirt. Joel quickly stood up. “Skinny dip?” 

Joel had felt your tits before. Plenty. You and him had explored things before… but never this. Seeing your breasts in that bra had his mind short circuiting. He was only a man. 

You turned away and began walking towards the river. The Texas sun was setting on your back as you slid your underwear off. Joel never really gotten a good look at your ass until now. Well now, he was taking it all in. 

“You gonna join me? Or just stare at my ass like a perv at a gas station?” He looked up at you and saw you glancing over your shoulder as you unhooked your bra. When you turned back and tossed your bra back to the shore, Joel scrambled out of his jeans and underwear comically fast, hopping out of his last pant leg. Joel grinned wildly as he giggled (did he just giggle?) and ran into the river as he pulled his shirt off.

By the time he reached you, you had dove into the water, swimming out. He caught up to you and pulled your wet frame in, finally taking yor in the kiss he had wanted to give all afternoon. He was careful, ever so careful, not to startle you or move too fast, but he hears you laugh. “Oh my god Joel, just kiss me.”

As the lady wished. He deepened the kiss as you ran fingers through his thick curls, massaging into his scalp. He could feel himself getting hard, so he pulled away. “Time to swim, sweetheart.” As he dove into the water, you got a quick peek at his ass before it re-entered the cool water. Oh man, you could not wait to get a hold of that latter tonight. You swam as the sun peaked, until your bodies were too tired to keep changing between kisses and splashes.

The evening was still warm, but could cool quick. Joel grabbed towels and another drink for the two of you on the blanket. While in the car, he opened his windows and turned up the radio. He helped dry off your hair and body before pulling a blanket over the two of you. The area was private, no one would be here except him. Snuggling into his chest, you signed contently. Joel was your safe place. Despite being naked under the blanket, You felt warm and secure. When “Sister Christian” faded out of the car radio, You listened to the DJ.

“This next song is a request, it goes out from Joel in Arlington. Joel wants you to know how much he’s enjoyed your time together and he hopes for many more nights like tonight. Well, isn’t that sweet. Here’s to you, this is You Make Loving Fun by Fleetwood Mac”

You turned to him with a broad smile. “Joel! That’s so sweet” You took him in for a kiss as the opening chords started playing, your dark, naked body pulling up against him.

Joel tried to keep his cool, but fighting his hard-on was getting a lot harder to control. “I wanted to play something by Stevie Nicks, but all the songs I knew that she sang sounded like break up songs.” Joel sucked on your neck.

You moaned out his name. “Oh god… mmm” You tried to keep the conversation going, but he felt so good on your skin. “True, but Silver Springs is a masterpiece…”

“You are a masterpiece…” He murmured between the soft kisses he placed along your stomach. your heart rate kicked up as he crept closer to your sex. 

“Joel…” You pleaded, begging him for more as he kissed the crease of your legs, so, so close to where you needed him to be. Something else entirely. Just when You thought he was finally going to take your in his mouth,  moved past your sex, his beautiful lips tantalizingly grazing over your folds to move towards your inner thighs. “Joel, please, stop teasing…”

“As the lady wants…” Finally, he dove into you.

Then I got Mary pregnant

And man, that was all she wrote

You tasted fantastic. He flattened his tongue as licked up, swirling around your clit, making your whimper. He loved the little sounds You made when he touched you, tasted you. Sliding two fingers inside, Joel worked your lower body with everything in him: his fingers deep inside your, his mouth licking and kissing everywhere in reach, his free hand massaging along your thigh.

In the freedom of the dark night, You felt free to be as loud as You wanted. “FUCK! Fuck Joel, just like that.”

“Fuck, you taste so good”

You gave a breathy laugh “Baby, I taste like river water”

“Like delicious river water” He muttered with an obvious smile;

You giggled “Ew”

Joel hummed “mmmm” the vibration sending another wave through you.

“Oh! Oh God, Joel!” You whimpered when You felt his teeth carefully draw along your sensitive inner thigh.

Joel continued working you, fingering you open carefully until you came on his tongue, tugging on the sweet curl and his oh so sensitive scalp.

You moved your hips up, sending a shock of electricity through him when he felt your thigh rub along his cock.

He kissed into your neck, fighting the strong urge to leave hickies. “If I told you I brought a condom, would you think I was presumptuous?”

“If I told you I brought a condom, would you think I’m easy?”

You could feel a shit eating, teasing grin being pressed into your neck. “I don’t believe in women being easy, I believe in men being lucky.”

With your soft hand, you guided his face back to yours and You gifted him with a kiss. “Do you think you’re lucky tonight?”

He couldn’t help the feral growl that escaped him as he nipped along your neck and chest. “Sweetheart, tonight, I think I’m favored by the gods.” He rolled over and pulled the condom out of his pant pocket and slid it over his length before lining himself up at your entrance and planting a soft kiss on your brow. He touched his forehead to yours. “You want this?” Joel spoke softly in your ear.

You smiled, eyes closed, and nodded, gently tracing the muscles on his back, toned from physical labour.

“More than anything, Joel. Do you?”

When you opened them, Joel was beaming down at you. “More than anything.”

 He felt your grip on his shoulder as he entered your, wet and hot in contrast to the cool air seeping into their little haven. He pulled the blanket over both of their heads to keep the heat between them, to keep the world outside. Right now, only they mattered, only you existed, nothing else could possibly be more important than making you feel beautiful and special and… loved.

You were ethereal. Nothing in the world felt better than you sweet pussy and there was nothing he loved more than you, his beautiful girl giving herself to him, just as he gave himself to you. 

In your little tent, you felt safe, appreciated and adored. Joel always had a way of taking away all your anxieties, his demeanor was always so light and relaxing but fiercely protective. You could feel him hitting deep inside you despite his movements being slow and steady, not wanting to hurt you. He was all kisses: your mouth your jaw, your breasts, your cheeks. As you stretched out your body and put your arms over your head, he ran his hands up your sides, over your breasts and shoulders, along your arms and finally pinning your hand above your. Joel held you to the ground and he picked up his pace, making your toes curl as your orgasm built back up again.

“Mmmm, Joel, baby you feel so good… so good honey”

Joel could feel your tightening around him, he knew you were close. He kissed deep into your mouth that opened for him. You aggressively kissed back, taking his lip between your teeth. “Please baby, I need to feel you.” You wiggled your wrists.

Joel complied, releasing your hands which You returned to his tan skin. When You came around him, he felt your fingernails digging into his shoulder blades, tipping him over the edge. His pace faltered as he rode out his orgasm, pressing tender kisses into your neck.

When they re-emerged from the cover of the blanket, night had completely fallen on the reservoir, the moon shone above the treeline illuminating You’s tan, wet body. “Keep on Lovin You” by REO Speedwagon was in full swing. They laid on the bank of the river, pulling your close just to feel each breath You takes.

There they laid, until Joel heard the rumble of thunder. “We should probably get going, don’t want to get rained on.” No answer. He looked down to see you sleeping against his chest. 5 more minutes won’t hurt… He thought to himself, and watched your sleep for 20 minutes, until you stirred to the sound of the thunder getting closer.

“Hm?” You grumbled into his chest, despite him not saying anything.

“I said we gotta go, it looks like rain.”

“Oh.” You rubbed your eyes and sat up. “Oh shit, I forgot we were naked.”

Joel stood up and gathered your clothes that You had practically stripped off for him, then got dressed himself.

It was that July you told him you were pregnant.

And for my nineteenth birthday

I got a union card and a wedding coat

We went down to the courthouse

And the judge put it all to rest

No wedding day smiles, no walk down the aisle

No flowers, no wedding dress

Everything changed after that, 

Not the love you had for each other, no, not that.

But everything else.

Your parents kicked you out when you told them, and Joel’s family let you move in, kind enough to let you take the couch, until a week later you and Joel were married at the courthouse. You spend your wedding night on the bottom of a bunk bed, Tommy staying with a friend for the night to offer you some privacy.

Life wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t the worst. No trade school, no apprenticeship, no journeymans, but Joel found a union job which was good. You continued working your job at the diner until Sarah was born, the best day of Joel’s life.

The next 5 years would be difficult, late bills and a sick baby, union going on strike, but no matter what, he had you. Always had you, his beautiful girl. Sometimes, Joel would ask Tommy to watch Sarah for a few hours, and he’d take you back to the river, back to where she was conceived. He couldn’t say he regretted it, but when this life brought him his baby. He couldn’t regret anything with you, honestly. Every struggle was worth it for his little family.

It was here you told him about the cancer.

Now all them things that seemed so important

Well mister they vanished right into the air

Now I just act like I don't remember

Mary acts like she don't care

Joel watched as a preteen Sarah swam around the river, Tommy and Joel parked with chairs close enough their feet were wet. Joel supposed she was technically a teen now… but it felt wrong to say his baby was a teenager of all things. 13 could be a preteen, just one more year. He had braided her hair back the same way he always did yours, the memory of which always tore at his chest. There were a few years there he didn’t take her, the last time Sarah had been was when she was 6.

 The chemo had taken its toll on you, but you wanted this last summer with your daughter. Joel had carried you in, your body to weak to stand for long but once you were in again, you were at ease. The water helped you move, taking pressure off your joints and Sarah, as little as she was played gently with you, knowing her mom was fragile. Joel loved how much you loved her, how much Sarah adored you, and it killed him. It killed him to know there wasn’t much longer left. 

Joel watched as you floated, taking in the sun on your skin as Sarah did the same. Two peas in a pod.

You died two days later.

But I remember us riding in my brother's car

Her body tan and wet, down at the reservoir

At night on them banks I'd lie awake

And pull her close just to feel each breath she'd take

Now those memories come back to haunt me

They haunt me like a curse

Is a dream a lie if it don't come true

Or is it something worse

Joel didn’t take her again until she was 10. He couldn’t stomach it, so Tommy did, wanting to keep the family place alive.

“You alright, brother?” Tommy asked, cool beer in his hand.

Joel sighed. “Yeah, yeah. Just….” He shook his head, watching as Sarah went under to do a handstand. “She looks so much like her mom, doesn’t she?”

When Sarah popped up again, Joel and Tommy cheered for her in encouragement.

“Yeah, that she does.”

School was starting soon, and Joel would have less time with her, so he was savoring these little moments, just as their family. Just the three of them. Joel still felt you here, present with him in these ways, even after all these years. 

2003 marked 7 years since your death, and every day Sarah grew to look more like you.

Now those memories come back to haunt me

They haunt me like a curse

Is a dream a lie if it don't come true

Or is it something worse

That sends me down to the river

Though I know the river is dry

That sends me down to the river tonight

Down to the river

My baby and I

Oh, down to the river we ride

SPOILER!!! Reader dies.

Thak you soooo muc for reading, i know my last fic and this one have been downers, and i gonna be honest, my final joel piece before leaving the fandom wil be bittersweet too ;-;

Thank you for all the love you've given me!!!

Taggint htose whove expressed interest. I think. if i mistagged you im sorry!!! its late for me

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @msjarvis @grogusmum @hiroikegawa @jennaispunk @fandxmslxt69 @sweetlummie

[dudeshusband]

Title: They Say A Man Should Never Cry

Ship: Mike x Dude

Words: 600

Warnings: Just period typical gender role talk.

Description: Dude worries Mike does too much for him.

Dude watched his spouse Mike as they sewed up one of the holes he’d worn into one of his shirts. They had done so much for him for the past few years. Sometimes he wondered whether he offered them anything at all. Sometimes, he felt like such a burden with all they wanted to do for him. Really, he was a man capable of doing these things himself, as he regularly told them. Still, they insisted on patching his shirt and making all of his meals. If they were in a particular mood, they’d insist on washing his hair and shaving him. He worried sometimes, in the back of his mind, that he would wear them down. They had endured the brunt of his alcoholism four years ago. Somehow, they still wanted him, and still wanted to take care of him. 

“I can patch up my own shirt,” Dude said. 

Mike shook their head. “I’d do it better.” 

“You don’t have to-” 

Mike cut him off. “I want to.” 

Dude rubbed his face. “Honey, I don’t- Look, I appreciate it. I just don’t want you to think I’m helpless-” 

Mike scoffed. “Helpless! I don’t think you’re helpless.” 

He sighed. “I don’t want you wearin’ yourself out, is all.” 

Mike lowered the needle, thread, and his shirt. “Wearing myself out?” 

“I don’t want…I’m a man. I can take care of myself.” 

They frowned. “I know. If you don’t want me to help you, just say so. I can stop.” 

Dude’s heart sank. “I didn’t mean- oh, damn it! I don’t want you to think you have to take care of me. I don’t want to burden you. I’ve been a big burden, to everybody, all these years.” 

Mike shook their head and looked at him almost sternly. “You’re not a burden. I love you. I loved you then and I love you now. You’re a man. I know that. I know what you’re capable of. You’re brave, and you’re strong. You don’t need me to cook for you or patch your shirts. But you know what else you are? A man who has been through a lot. You’re not alone anymore. You’re not some lonesome deputy sheriff who needs to be tough all the time. You’re not Chance. Don’t push me away.” 

Dude frowned. “Mike…I’m not…I’m not pushin’ you anywhere. I just don’t…want to be too much for you. I wasn’t raised to be…loved like this. You know…I always thought I’d have a wife, some kids. She’d cook, like a woman does. She’d keep the house clean. She’d rear the kids. I’d work our land ‘til the boys got old enough. But I’d be a man. I’d do my own shaving. I’d take my own baths, alone. I’d do the cuddlin’, and the kissin’. I’d always be…dominant in my own bedroom. Nobody’d ever see me lonely or scared. I’d be the man of my house.” 

Mike bit their lip. “Do you want me to be more…wifely?”

“That’s just it, honey. I need you to take care of me. I need you to take the lead. I need you to kiss my forehead and dry my tears. I need everything you do for me. I need you to love me. I don’t want to need all that but I do.” 

“Why don’t you?” 

He looked down. He didn’t want to come off more vulnerable than he already was. “I’m afraid you’ll leave me for a stronger man sometimes.” 

Mike placed a hand on Dude’s face. “Stronger man? Dude, sweetheart, you are the strongest man I know. You don’t have to be some hardass to be a man. You’re a good man, Dude. You’re a force to be reckoned with, you know that? I wouldn’t leave you for any man in the whole United States of America.” 

“You think too much of me.” 

Mike kissed him. “I’m right. Now, I have a shirt to finish.” 

Mike returned to sewing up Dude’s shirt. He looked at them with gentle eyes, wondering how he ever got so lucky. 

[bcdrawsandwrites]

Pride and Fall

Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Rating: K+ Genre: Angst, Friendship Characters: Demoman & Sniper Fic Description: A few months after the events of the comics, after a lost match in the middle of a violent rainstorm, Sniper's mind is abruptly elsewhere. Demo gathers what might be wrong, and steps in to help. Warnings: TF2-typical violence, references to past character death. Beta Readers: @mechmolar and @gonturan0 ILLUTRATOR: @doctor-phil!!! Check out the illustration here! Notes: This is for the @tf2bigbang! Finally participating in one of these! (Do you ever think about the fact that Sniper died in Demoman's arms? Because I think about the fact that Sniper died in Demoman's arms a lot.)

---~~~---

Well, ye win some, ye lose some, was all Demo could think when he heard the telltale sound of an enemy spy decloaking behind him. The knife striking into his spine was excruciating, but brief, and expected.

The water immediately dousing him upon respawn was not.

With a cry of disgust, which was echoed by several other mercs who had also gotten picked off during the humiliation round, he stumbled out from the rain that was pouring through a hole in the spawn room roof. "Bloody rain season," he grumbled, wiping himself off for all the good it would do.

Soldier, who had respawned with him, crossed his arms. "We may have tasted bitter defeat, men, but that will only make our next victory that much sweeter!"

In spite of the chilly weather, Demo couldn't help smiling at his friend. "Aye, not a bad thought." He turned to see what the others thought of the sentiment: Spy was leaning against the broken spawn door, not seeming to care, while Heavy shrugged and gave a nod.

And then he saw Sniper.

The man had stumbled out from the rain, but was staring blankly at the water around his ankles, his face pale. For a moment, Demo wondered if Sniper was sick, only to realize just why Sniper might react poorly to the water everywhere.

Frowning, Demo reached out, placing a hand on Sniper's shoulder. "Are ye all right, lad?" he whispered.

"M'fine," Sniper grunted, his voice tight.

The others were saying something about the Pyro, but Demo ignored them for the time being. He kept his hand on Sniper's shoulder, his stomach sinking. "The match is over, lad. We lost."

Sniper did not respond.

"Better get yer things," Demo went on. "Ye know BLU's gonna pitch a fit if we dawdle."

Again, no response.

Sighing, Demo wrapped his arm around Sniper's shoulders. "Come on, lad," he murmured, guiding Sniper toward the lockers. "Let's get yer stuff."

Thankfully Sniper was conscious enough to retrieve his wallet and keys, and was able to carry his weapons without much of a problem, but still he never said a word. His steps sloshed heavily through the water on the floor, and he nearly fell as Demo guided him down the stairs. The others had already gone on ahead (aside from Spy, for some reason, but he seemed to know what he was about, so Demo let him be), and Demo grimaced when they finally reached the ground floor and faced the thunderstorm outside.

"Think ye can make it back all right?" Demo asked.

Sniper blinked wearily from behind his glasses. "Respawn'll send us back to base soon," he mumbled.

"Aye, if you're sure about leavin' your van behind."

Growling, Sniper threw himself forward, trudging out into the rainstorm, only to stop again, staring blankly ahead.

"Stay with me, lad," Demo grunted, throwing an arm around him again and marching through the rain, forcing Sniper's legs to move with him. He glanced over at him—not something he could do subtly with Sniper on his blind side, but Sniper was in no state of mind to notice—and frowned at seeing his companion with a hand digging into his chest. "No bullets there, friend."

Up ahead, he could barely make out blurry red shapes heading out of the sawmill territory. So they weren't impossibly behind the others—not that Demo wouldn't have been able to find his way back if they were. It might've been nice to catch up, but he didn't trust that Sniper's gangling legs would be able to keep up at the moment, with the way they were struggling to maintain a basic walking speed.

As the path led them out through the gates and turned downward, Demo winced; the path was even more treacherous here, with the rain mingling with the dirt path to create slick mud on an inclined surface. It was made worse by the others who had already traversed it. Heavy's footprints in particular were deep—he must be having a time crossing this place—and Demo took care to avoid them when possible.

"How're ye holdin' up?" he asked, raising his voice over the torrent of rain.

Sniper muttered something Demo couldn't catch.

"Aye, cannae argue with that." Sighing, Demo squinted through the rain, holding out a hand to his forehead to shield his eye for a moment. "We'll be there soon. Just hang on—"

And as he spoke, Sniper's foot caught on one of Heavy's footprints, and he slipped out from under his arm, crashing into the muddy ground below and letting out a strangled gasp.

"Aw—!" A streak of curses hissed its way out of Demo's mouth as he stooped down, preparing to lift Sniper out of the mud. "Are ye all right?"

The fall had knocked Sniper's glasses askew; his eyes were wide and unseeing, his hand gripping the side of his chest, his breathing rapid. He made no sign of acknowledgment as Demo struggled to pull him up to his feet.

"C'mon, Mundy," Demo grunted. "On your feet!"

"Th-they got me," Sniper panted between gasps. "There's no respawn."

"Sure there is, ya campy weasel! Ye were just talkin' aboot it!"

Sniper's feet scrambled and kicked against the slippery mud, and Demo heaved a sigh. "All right, lad, ye asked for this." With that, he lifted Sniper off his feet and threw him over his shoulder. "I'll carry ye back tae yer van like a sack o' potatoes if I have to."

Unfortunately carrying a grown man over his shoulder didn't exactly make the trip back any easier, but he'd navigated worse roads when intoxicated. (Speaking of, that didn't sound like a bad idea, but it could wait for now.)

But the feeling of Sniper's weight against his shoulder in combination with the humid atmosphere and rain brought another problem—memories of a doomed, underwater country, flooding with water, which was slowly turning red around him, Sniper's weight growing heavier against his shoulder, in his arms.

A sudden fear seized him, and he frantically patted Sniper's back. "Are ye still with me?" he asked, voice shaking.

Sniper did not answer, but his rapid breathing was at least not slowing dangerously, and he was not growing heavier, so, there was that.

...Not to mention they'd both just come fresh off the respawn, so neither of them would be injured. Somehow the thought was not helping as much as it should have. Demo shook his head. "Keep it t'gether, Tavish," he grunted, and kept going.

It felt like far too long before he heard the rumble of a car engine, and peered through the rain to see Engie's truck rolling out of a covered area. With a sigh of relief, Demo hauled Sniper forward and into the partially hidden area where they'd parked their cars. Only two still remained: Spy's sports car, and Sniper's van. Demo heaved Sniper onto his feet. "All right, lad. Here we are."

Groaning, Sniper stumbled where he stood before raising his head to see his truck. "...'Preciate it, mate," he muttered, feeling over his chest again. "I... uh. M'sorry about that."

"S' all right. Are ye in a state ta drive, though?" Demo huffed out a laugh. "I'd offer tae m'self, but, uh..." He tapped the side of his eye patch.

"Nah, s'fine, I can manage." Already he was pulling open the door and climbing in, and Demo joined him on the passenger's side. Only when they were inside the van did Sniper seem to finally relax, sitting back against the driver's seat, rainwater dripping off of him. He took in a few deep breaths.

Demo grunted. "Ye make it look like yer the one who had to haul yer own lifeless lump through a bloody storm."

Sniper cracked a smile, shaking his head. "Thanks for that, though."

After taking a moment to calm himself, Sniper whipped out his keys and started up the engine. With the windshield wipers slashing in front of them, they eased their way out onto the road, which was easier said than done with the muddy state said road was in. For once, Sniper pulled his glasses up, leaning forward as he squinted over the steering wheel, while Demo subconsciously gripped the door of the car to keep steady. For several tense minutes the van lumbered down the slippery, hilly road, and neither of them spoke.

It wasn't until the road leveled out that Demo let out a breath. "Glad ye shook that off, mate," he said with a relieved laugh. "I dinnae think I'd've managed."

"I can drive in just about any weather. 'Cept for snow, anyway."

Demo hummed, nodding as he watched the world pass by through the window. The rain pounding on the roof and the rumbling of the engine nearly lulled him into a doze until he took another look at the Sniper. Now that they were in a somewhat safer situation, Sniper had put his glasses back on, and was sitting back against his chair again. But he was not relaxed; he stared straight ahead at the road, not in concentration, but with a faraway look, as though he were looking at a different scene entirely.

"Ye got two eyeballs, mate," Demo said, and Sniper jumped in his seat. "Keep at least one of 'em on the road."

"Sorry." Sniper shifted uncomfortably in the rain-soaked seat. He was at least focused now, but his shoulders were hunched.

It was certainly strange seeing the man so tense, given how relaxed he tended to be outside of battle. "Are ye sure yer all right?"

Feeling over his chest and side again, Sniper frowned. "I'm not bleeding."

"That don't answer the question."

Sighing, Sniper tipped his head back. "Ask me again once we're back. After we've got a couple drinks in me though, all right?"

Any other time, Demo might have brightened at the suggestion of getting a few drinks. But in this case...

Well. He hadn't exactly become an alcoholic for the fun of it.

Nodding grimly, Demo faced the road again, feeling far too awake to nod off to the sounds of the rain and the car motor. They spent the rest of the journey in silence.

Eventually the van turned into the hidden entrance of the base before pulling into the garage. When Demo raised a brow at Sniper, he only shrugged. "It'd only get stuck in the mud if I parked it outside."

"Makes sense," Demo murmured, stepping out and heading for the fridge. Sure enough, they still had some bottles of Cerveza Royale left over from their last celebration, and he grabbed a couple plus a bottle opener before following Sniper into the base.

It was oddly quiet for a post-match evening, but then, they didn't have much to celebrate tonight. Presumably Medic and Engineer had retreated to their lab and workshop respectively, Heavy was probably eating a post-match snack, and, judging by the sounds coming from the lounge and the phone, Scout was watching TV while Soldier was on the phone with Zhanna. The mess hall was empty, but it wasn't the most comfortable place to get smashed. As it was, Demo suggested they head into the rec room, where a few couches sat in one corner.

The two of them plopped down onto the cushion. After whipping out the bottle opener, Demo cracked the bottles open and handed one to Sniper.

"Cheers, mate," Demo said, and the two clunked their bottles together before taking a swig. But, looking over at Sniper, he frowned.

Sniper took several deep gulps before pulling the bottle away and heaved a sigh. He leaned back, his head tipped up to look at the ceiling.

Silence settled over them for a moment.

"So... did ye manage tae climb on the roof o' that sawmill?" Demo ventured.

"Sort of," Sniper replied. "Turns out it has an attic space, so I crawled up in there. Not a bad place for a nest. No one thinks t' look up that high."

"Aye, that's what makes sticky-jumpin' work, too."

"Was a good spot for a while," he went on. "Got a few good shots in... 'til we lost." And then he dipped his head.

Both of them knew it wasn't the loss that bothered him.

Demo frowned, a memory striking him. "Ah, the BLU sniper, was it?"

"Yeah. Second he realized where I was, he shot at me through the ceiling." Wincing, Sniper rubbed his leg. "But that didn't kill me. The ceiling collapsing did, though."

Letting out a low whistle, Demo shook his head. "Rough way t' go, mate." He took another swig of beer. "Hate t' say it, but ye looked like death warmed over once ye came out of spawn."

Sniper snorted humorlessly. "Heh. Death..." Throwing the bottle back, he drank deeply from it before staring down at it, watching the remaining liquid swirl around within. "D'you... d'you remember New Zealand?"

Demo grunted. "Not much. I was still shakin' off that moonshine ye dosed me with."

Nodding grimly, Sniper continued: "Well... we met my parents there—my rea—my birth parents. N' they... they both buggered off."

Something struck Demo, and he sat back, brow furrowed.

"The place was flooding, my dad took the sub, and... we saw lights comin' toward us, and I thought it was my dad comin' back, and..." He leaned forward, arms resting on his knees. "I see the Medic, grinning like a madman and standin' with all a' Gray's men, and—"

"They shot you," Demo finished, his gaze distant. "I remember that. Remember holdin' ye above water. Didn't strike me 'til I heard the bloody grays boastin' aboot killin' ye, that there was..."

"No respawn." Sniper's head hung. "Yeah."

"I tried t' get ye to stop bleedin', but... Mate, ye were so heavy. I think ye were a corpse by the time they bullied us onto the ship."

Sniper did not lift his head.

Demo continued to stare into the distance. "I... I thought I'd lost ye." After a pause, he he took a longer drink, and belched. "Might've gone a bit mad after that. Was a right mess, cryin' and cussin' out those..."

Brows raised, Sniper turned to face him. "You were... upset over me?"

"Of course!" Demo exclaimed, swinging out his arm, and Sniper flinched back to avoid inadvertently getting hit by the bottle. "It's one thing when you're fightin' every day, dyin' and comin' right back from it, but when it's permanent?" Shaking his head, he leaned in closer, looking Sniper in the eye. "Ye think I wouldn't?"

Sniper shook his head, leaning back. "I'd captured you, mate. I poisoned you. I had a—"

Demo belted out a laugh, cutting him off. "With some o' the best moonshine I've ever had injected in me veins!" He slapped himself on the knee, grinning. "Wouldn't mind if ye shared some o' that again!"

For once, Sniper cracked a smile, letting out a huff of amusement as he shook his head. It lasted only a moment. "Didn't think anyone cared that much."

Quieting down, Demo lowered his head. "Wasn't alone. When those gray scum pried me from yer corpse, I saw the others tryin' to hold Soldier n' his lady back. They were furious, n' Spy and Miss Pauling were right torn up. Couldn't say for sure aboot the Pyro, but the thing is… I don’t think… any of us knew we cared that much aboot you.” He turned, looking Sniper in the eye. “Not until we lost ye.”

Sniper's only response was to stare forward into the darkened room, swallowing.

"...'Course," Demo went on, "I've no doubt it was worse for ye." Sighing, he studied his own bottle. "No respawn, and ye must've been out for hours. Can't imagine."

Once again, Sniper was silent, turning slightly away, his lips pulled into a tight line. He opened his mouth, shut it, then downed the rest of his bottle before saying, quickly, "I saw my parents."

"Aye, lad, we all saw yer parents. Terrible people."

"No." Sniper's voice was thick. "Not them. My real parents."

The words swam around Demo's head, their meaning confused by more than the alcohol in his system. They sank in slowly. "Yer... real parents," he repeated slowly, then blinked. "Yer adopted parents?"

Sniper nodded. "My parents." Gritting his teeth, he clenched his free fist. "You don't gotta believe me, but I know what I—"

"Lad, lad," Demo said, a chuckle shaking his words. He clapped a hand over Sniper's shoulder, and the other man jumped. "We've seen plenty o' magic, now, an' we've been ta' Hell and back. What makes ye think I wouldn't believe the opposite exists?"

Shrugging feebly, Sniper shook his head. "Medic didn't."

"Bah!" Demo waved a dismissive hand. "What's he know aboot th' afterlife?"

After heaving a long sigh, Sniper leaned forward, arms resting on his knees. "Point is... I saw them, there, up in the clouds... and we talked, and..." His grip around the empty bottle tightened, and his voice became a low growl, "Dad says... says he was proud of me."

Despite the alcohol, a tension settled over the two, growing tighter and tighter. Demo swallowed, then opened his mouth to speak, only for Sniper to sit bolt upright and slam his empty bottle against the floor, shattering it.

"Bloody wanker!" he snarled. "Couldn't've said it when he was here! Couldn't've said it when we were both alive! All those years, yellin' at me over the phone, goin' on about how much he hates my job, my life choices, and now he tells me? Now? When I'm not gonna bloody see him again until—?!"

His voice cracked, and he stood abruptly, storming into the dark room.

Stammering, Demo stood up, setting aside his beer and wobbling after him. It would be hard enough to see with two eyes, but Demo had to take extra care not to bump into any of the equipment in the room, keeping a hand out in front of himself. He lost track of Sniper, and cried out when his outstretched hand collided with the side of the wrestling ring. He pulled his hand away, shaking the pain out of it, when a sound caught his ear—a faint sniff. Frowning, he headed toward the noise, and finally spotted the dim form of Sniper hunched over the pool table. He was quiet.

Demo crept closer, placing a hand on Sniper's back. He was trembling.

"Now, lad," Demo said, his voice soft. "C'mon, now."

Sniper's breathing hitched, and Demo wrapped his arm around him. To his surprise, Sniper did not pull away, but leaned into him as his shoulders shook.

As Demo held him, old memories arose—memories of standing at a funeral for two parents, throat torn by the apology he'd never be able to voice. Then came the memory of another funeral, for another parent—one as equally displeased with him as his living mother.

What were any of them saying on the other side? Did they accept his unspoken apology? Were they voicing the pride for him that they'd never expressed in life?

He cast a glance at Sniper, who was fighting a losing battle with tears against his side, and decided it was better not to know.

As Sniper's trembling began to calm, Demo rubbed his back. "For what it's worth," he said, "I'm proud of ye. And I won't wait 'til we're at no pearly gates to tell ye."

Sniper let out a snort, and Demo imagined a shaky smile crossing his face. "Thanks, mate."

"Anytime, lad."

[reginrokkr]

𝐂𝐈𝐈𝐈. Different energies used in Khaenri'ahn technology.

Last post for tonight, pinky promise (I need to go to sneep so I wake up earlier tomorrow to revise for the partial 😔). But I find interesting that it's suggested that Void began to be used as a source of energy in Khaenri'ah relatively recently, as until that point they were using Ley Lines and stopped using them upon finding out that the abyssal sources are more convenient (I'm sure that there is also a different backdrop to it which is this desire to control the Abyss, thus they would topple the gods as per Chlothar's words). At the same time, it's also nice to see that there were people involved in the abyssal energy usage who seemed to be timid in voicing out their concerns about using it.

[osamucide]

if this bothers anyone they can kindly feel free to leave or ignore it or whatever but can we stop flooding the x reader tags with half-baked thinkpieces on why people should or shouldn’t do whatever with their writing. every other post is “you shouldn’t romanticize [x]” “you’re problematic if you do [x]” “stop writing about [x]” “[x] is gross and if you write about it kill yourself” how about if you don’t like certain content you heed the content warnings, block the tags, don’t interact with it, so on and so forth. of course part of our responsibility as writers, especially ones dealing with sensitive topics, is to label and tag our works appropriately but let’s be real—i hardly see any writers (at least within the bsd fandom) who don’t make it abundantly clear what they do/do not write about, interact with, or tolerate. wait until you find out how much fucked up shit happens in real life and how much some person on the internet coping with their trauma by writing self insert fanfiction about a cartoon character doesn’t fucking correlate to the perpetuation of that fucked up shit at all. it doesn’t even have to be that serious. people are going to write and read the content they want and they’re allowed to and you spilling your complaints all over the x reader tags “to boost attention” isn’t gonna change that. if you don’t like something ignore, unfollow, block, mind your own business. it’s actually super easy

[spock-adoodledoo]

i think one of the things i'll always appreciate abt maomao is that even though she's the protag, it's not really that the world revolves around her or that things always happen to her, it's more that she gets involved in things (usually at the request of other ppl but whatever) that usually don't affect her immediately. idk but it's nice that she's kind of our dispassionate window into palace life instead of the person everything happens to

[isfjmel-phleg]

🥜

[yoloyeahhh]

need head scratches.

that’s it. that’s the post.

[righteous-pines]

Chivetiger joined the clan long ago under the lead of Pinestar, but his life as a loner isn’t even a distant memory now. Though he spends much of his time alone, thinking up dialogues and stories in his head that fill his chest with pounding excitement, he is often the cat others in the clan turn to with their problems, as he always seems to have a hypothetical on how to handle everything. He’s happy to spit out his opinion on the matter, and then be left alone, no other conversation necessary. He can often be found in a shady corner, off to himself, sorting his collection of shiny rocks and mumbling softly to himself in little voices.

[timeisacephalopod]

Why do right wingers go on and ON about "father's in the home" when fathers are basically useless in the home? Like every year I see posts that go around about "dad finding out about what I got for Christmas" and it's like if fathers are so uninvolved they don't even know what Christmas gifts their kids are getting I don't think them being gone does much?? Like of course there's good and bad parents of all genders, but traditional gender roles- which the aforementioned right wingers ascribe to- mean men do jack fucking squat in the house OR anything with their kids so what the hell do right wingers think men are doing that's so important in the home if it's none of the childrearing or house work??

All I've got in this framework is a paycheque and these days women work so men wouldn't even be contributing something women DON'T, so I have no idea what these people think men are doing that it's so irreplaceable that being gone is damaging to children when by all means under their ideas of gender and family men are less than useless to their family. Women do all that work (and barring that, DAUGHTERS do more parental work than fathers so them being gone does what, exactly, except maybe rid the family of an overgrown child? Men who actually contribute are the ones families would be damaged without, not traditional men who probably don't even know how to do their own laundry OR cook or have any life skills because women have done everything for them their whole lives so???)

[jacksintention]

.

[ktempestbradford]

I have been on a Willy Wonkified journey today and I need y'all to come with me

It started so innocently. Scrolling Google News I come across this article on Ars Technica:

At first glance I thought what happened was parents saw AI-generated images of an event their kids were at and became concerned, then realized it was fake. The reality? Oh so much better.

On Saturday, event organizers shut down a Glasgow-based "Willy's Chocolate Experience" after customers complained that the unofficial Wonka-inspired event, which took place in a sparsely decorated venue, did not match the lush AI-generated images listed on its official website.... According to Sky News, police were called to the event, and "advice was given."

Thing is, the people who paid to go were obviously not expecting exactly this:

But I can see how they'd be a bit pissed upon arriving to this:

It gets worse.

"Tempest, how could it possibly--"

source of this video that also includes this charming description:

Made up a villain called The Unknown — 'an evil chocolate maker who lives in the walls'

There is already a meme.

Oh yes, the Wish.com Oompa Loompa:

Who has already done an interview!

As bad (and hilarious) as this all is, I got curious about the company that put on this event. Did they somehow overreach? Did the actors they hired back out at the last minute? (Or after they saw the script...) Oddly enough, it doesn't seem so!

Given what I found when poking around I'm legit surprised there was an event at all. Cuz this outfit seems to be 100% a scam.

The website for this specific event is here and it has many AI generated images on it, as stated. I don't think anyone who bought tickets looked very closely at these images, otherwise they might have been concerned about how much Catgacating their children would be exposed to.

Yes, Catgacating. You know, CATgacating!

I personally don't think anyone should serve exarserdray flavored lollipops in public spaces given how many people are allergic to it. And the sweet teats might not have been age appropriate.

Though the Twilight Tunnel looks pretty cool:

I'm not sure that Dim Tight Twdrding is safe. I've also been warned that Vivue Sounds are in that weird frequency range that makes you poop your pants upon hearing them.

Yes, Virginia, these folks used an AI image generator for everything on the website and used Chat GPT for some of the text! From the FAQ:

Q: I cannot go on the available days. Will you have more dates in the future? A: Should there be capacity when you arrive, then you will be able to enter without any problems. In the event that this is not the case, we may ask you to wait a bit.

Fear not, for this question is asked again a few lines down and the answer makes more sense.

Curious about the events company behind this disaster, I took myself over to the homepage of House of Illuminati and I was not disappointed.

I would 100% trust these people to plan my wedding.

This abomination of a website is a badly edited WordPress blog filled with AI art and just enough blog posts to make the casual viewer think that it's a legit business for about 0.0004 seconds.

Their attention to detail is stunning, from how they left up the default first post every WP blog gets to how they didn't bother changing the name on several images, thus revealing where they came from. Like this one:

With the lovely and compact filename "DALL·E-2024-01-30-09.50.54-Imagine-a-scene-where-fantasy-and-reality-merge-seamlessly.-In-the-foreground-a-grand-interactive-gala-is-taking-place-filled-with-elegant-guests-i.png"

"Concept.png" came from the same AI generator that gets text almost, but not quiiiiiite right:

There are a suspicious number of .webp images in the uploads, which makes me think they either stole them from other sites where AI "art" was uploaded or they didn't want to pay for the hi-res versions of some and just grabbed the preview image.

The real fun came when I noticed this filename: Before-and-After-Eventologists-Transformation-Edgbaston-Cricket-Ground-1024x1024-1.jpg and decided to do a Google image search. Friends, you will be shocked to hear that the image in question, found on this post touting how they can transform a boring warehouse into a fun event space, was stolen from this actual event planner.

Even better, this weirdly grainy image?

From a post that claims to be about the preparations for a "Willy Wonka" experience (we'll get to this in a minute), is not only NOT an actual image of anyone preparing anything for Illuminati's event, it is stolen from a YouTube thumbnail that's been chopped to remove the name of the company that actually made this. Here's the video.

If you actually read the blog posts they're all copypasta or some AI generated crap. To the point where this seems like not a real business at all. There's very specific business information at the bottom, but nothing else seems real.

As I said, I'm kinda surprised they put on an event at all. This has, "And then they ran off with all our money!" written all over it. I'm perplexed.

And also wondering when the copyright lawyers are gonna start calling, because...

This post explicitly says they're putting together a "Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory Experience" complete with golden tickets.

Somewhere along the line someone must have wised up, because the actual event was called "Willys Chocolate Experience" (note the lack of apostrophe) and the script they handed to the actors about 10 minutes before they were supposed to "perform" was about a "Willy McDuff" and his chocolate factory.

As I was going through this madness with friends in a chat, one pointed out that it took very little prompting to get the free Chat GPT to spit out an event description and such very similar to all this while avoiding copyrighted phrases. But he couldn't figure out where the McDuff came from since it wasn't the type of thing GPT would usually spit out...

Until he altered the prompt to include it would be happening in Glasgow, Scotland.

You cannot make this stuff up.

But truly, honestly, I do not even understand why they didn't take the money and run. Clearly this was all set up to be a scam. A lazy, AI generated scam.

Everything from the website to the event images to the copy to the "script" to the names of things was either stolen or AI generated (aka stolen). Hell, I'd be looking for some poor Japanese visitor wandering the streets of Glasgow, confused, after being jacked for his mascot costume.

HE LIVES IN THE WALLS, Y'ALL.