#wow this post really got away from me there oops

[ablazeinhim]

I went out with my childhood bestie's friend group the other night and it really made me realize that I'm very picky about my friends. 😂

***

As I've been reflecting on it the past couple days I've put a few things together about like who somebody was and stories my friend has told me. And girl, some some of these situations and some of these people's actions and attitudes, like... I find it a little hard to believe that these are my friend's type of people.

***

And maybe they were all just having really bad days/times in life when those things happened and they acted that way, but some of them I'm like yeah I would be pulling away hard. I would always rather have fewer friends and know they're supportive and dependable and honest and loving, than many friends who aren't a perfect fit. And often that means I do shit alone, because my friends are busy people, or they live far. And I'm ok with that.

I don't wanna mask in front of my friends, or watch what I say, or be scared to talk about what I believe. I need open communication and mutual respect.

***I rambled about the night and decided it was distracting from what I actually wanted to say so I cut that part out of the middle and put it here in case you want to read the post in it's og form:

I can fall in love in an instant and vibe with people so hard, so it's not that. Like the other week I was in Ohio for a friend's wedding and I got to meet his twin brother and childhood friends and fucking loved them all. The vibes were excellent, the energy exquisite. Me and one of them laughed constantly when next to each other. No awkwardness at all. We took stupid group pictures in the yard. I left longing to be their friend.

That was not the vibe of the other evening. I didn't have a bad time, but I didn't gel with any of them. My friend and I carpooled, so on the way home she did tell me that it was kind of a weird night.

But I don't think it would have made a difference.

It was clear a couple of them were "partiers." I love a party, and I *am* a good time. But I don't drink and it was clear that was typically a big aspect/the main activity. My idea of a fun night out is a light dinner(so I don't have to worry about leftovers. Definitely snacking later at home) followed by something entertaining (my top choices would probably be a drag show or an arcade) and then dancing. I NEED dancing. Please God get me in the room with the queers and the neurodivergent DJ. I could skip all the other things as long as I can vibe on the dance floor with my loved ones.

We went out to dinner and to the gay bar. Both things I like!

And there was no dancing! One of them was adamant, "I don't dance." WHY. Why would you deny yourself the joy of movement. The embodiment of sound. Why would you declare it like it's something you can't wait to spit out of your mouth.

Why was there so much talk of past times getting fucked up (and presumably that was a positive experience for them). [This also probably wasnt discussed a TON, but it was multiple times and since I'm not into that personally it really stood out to me--like if you wanna tell me about the party that's great, but like can you tell me a funny story from it or something, instead of just how much your bar tab was?]

One of the people was abrasive and aggressive (in energy) in a way that did not make me feel safe or at ease.

Maybe it's because they're an established group and it was my first time with them. Maybe it's because I'm neurodivergent and introverted. Whatever it was, it just wasn't my scene. And that's ok. None of them were mean.

Someone we ran into that night is not really someone that my friend likes, but despite that, my friend still buys this person's art and still is considering doing a group activity with them before this person moves like an hour away. And internally I was like...why? Why would you spend time with people who send you mixed signals and act in an emotionally abusive manner???

[dreamdazedworld]

YINGXING BRAINROT

Synopsis: Yingxing x Genshin! Youkai! Gender neutral Reader and the both of them are hopelessly in love.

Note(s): I was listening to 愛き夜道 on Spotify when I suddenly got this idea, now it won’t leave me alone. Anyways, I think that this is the first post I actually wrote, so yippie? Eat up, my children, you won’t be having these Yingxing crumbs for some while. This might actually turn into a full blown fic, though it depends on my motivation LOL

Warning(s): Both of them are hopelessly in love with each other, death mentioned (nothing serious, dw), oops now you have a Yandere! Blade chasing you around Teyvat

Art credit goes to my favorite artist, void/Re:era on X! Their art is really pretty, check them out if you can :o

Imagine a Genshin! Youkai! Reader who’s a fox/kitsune (like Yae), and fell in love with YINGXING, like it has all of the potential fr.

So! Of course, Reader here is from Inazuma, and their… clan (let’s all pretend that the Youkai has separate clans) feeds only on the feelings (and emotions), positive ones, to be precise, of humans (like the dementors from Harry Potter!). Negative ones are like poison to them- And the only antidote for this is the Sacred Sakura, however, there are lasting after effects. Once poisoned, the kitsune will be significantly weakened for a long period of time, ranging from a few decades to centuries on end, depending on how much the kitsune consumed.

Kitsune! Reader, unlike the others from their clan, doesn’t like feeding on humans (because it ends up driving their victim mad and they like humans). Of course they understand that it’s necessary for them to survive, they’re not dumb, they can feel their hunger growing with each day they refused to feed on humans. So, with no more options, decides to blend into human society by protecting mankind from the ‘evil’ Youkai, and occasionally feeding on people who are about to die (with guilt). Their love for humanity and stubborn determination to protect humans ends up earning them a Pyro vision that supplies them with some energy to keep them going, since visions are literally wishes with a physical shape, and wishes have positive energy.

One day, while resting on the Sacred Sakura, Reader accidentally finds out that the Sakura has clones, which are spread across multiple worlds by waking up in the Xianzhou Luofu. There, they meet young Yingxing, who’s still learning under that grandpa, when he stumbles into the area where the clone is located. There, they become friends, and as years pass, eventually drinking buddies as well. After Yingxing meets the High-Cloud Quintet and as years fade away, our dear Reader here realizes they’re hopelessly in love with….. Yingxing!? Instantly gives up on their love as soon as they realize, because they think he doesn’t see them in that light (honey, he does), and to rub salt to the wound, in love with Bai Heng, since Yingxing talks about her a lot. But of course it doesn’t go as easily as they want it to go, so the Reader just silently suffers with their emotions.

When shit starts to go down in the Quintet after Bai Heng’s death, Reader goes “Oh fuck, Yingxing’s negative energy is going to make him choose the shittiest life options, won’t it?” and starts to suck away his pain (by kissing him in his sleep because YES). Yingxing starts getting better in exchange for Reader’s health, and in the end, Reader fucking COLLAPSES, forced to go back to Inazuma to recover, Yingxing learns about everything they were keeping from him through a letter, depression hits and oh wow, Yingxing chooses the most shittiest life decision he has ever made by teaming up with Dan Feng to cause the Sedition of Imbibitor Lunae, turning him immortal, and eventually into Blade. (I forgot to mention it but only the original Sacred Sakura has the ability to heal away the poison.)

As thousands of years pass, Reader fully recovers, though not exactly since they can’t let go of Yingxing. The Sakoku degree is lifted, and everything seems fine in Inazuma, until they come across a person who they thought were already dead- You guessed it, Blade! But not just typical Blade, Yandere! Blade who is on the brink of insanity and is hellbent on bringing Reader along with him. And so, the game of cat and mouse ensues.

[mybutcheredtongue]

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

post azkaban sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX (see full series list here)

1994

I've just been attacked by dementors and I might be expelled from Hogwarts. I want to know what's going on and when I'm going to get out of here.

That's what Harry had written in his note to you and Sirius — and also in notes to Ron and Hermione too.

The pair of you had been livid, of course — "this is what happens when he's left alone with those people!" — and three days later, you stand on the doorstep to Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging with a group of other Order members.

"Alohomora," you say, pushing the door open. You make your way into the hallway, all the lights turned off.

Tonks lets out a whistle at a stack of antique decorative plates on a table beside her. "Wow, look at these plates, they're proper fancy! Just look — "

She immediately drops it with a crash.

"Oops," she says, repairing it with a wave of her wand.

You make your way up the stairs, unlocking the door with your wand while the others wait at the bottom of the stairs. Harry slowly emerges from the room, poking his head out the door, wand clutched tightly in his hand.

"Lower your wand, boy, before you take someone's eye out," Moody growls.

Harry doesn't lower his wand. "Professor Moody?"

"I don't know so much about 'Professor'. Never got round to much teaching, did I? Get down here, we want to see you properly."

Harry still doesn't move, clearly wary of your party.

"It's alright, Harry," you say gently. "We've come to take you away."

"P-professor?" he says disbelievingly. "Is that you?"

"Why are we all standing in the dark?" Tonks says. "Lumos."

The tip of Tonks's wand flares, illuminating the hall with light. You beam at the sight of your godson, already looking older than when you last seen him.

You stride forward and wrap him in a tight hug, beaming. "Good to see you, Harry."

"Yeah, you too..."

"Ooh, he looks just like I thought he would," Tonks says excitedly. "Wotcher, Harry!"

"Yeah, I see what you mean, Remus," Kingsley Shacklebolt says from the back. "He looks exactly like James."

"Except the eyes," Dedalus Diggle wheezes. "Lily's eyes."

Moody squints suspiciously at Harry, his magical eye pointed towards him searchingly. "Are you quite sure it's him? It'd be a nice lookout if we bring back some Death Eater personating him. We ought to ask him something only the real Potter would know. Unless anyone brought any Veritaserum?"

"Harry, what form does your patronus take?" Remus asks.

"A stag," Harry answers nervously.

"That's him, Mad-Eye."

Harry descends the stairs, still looking a bit confused, stowing his wand in the back pocket of his jeans as he goes.

"Don't put your wand there, boy!" Moody roars immediately. "What if it ignited? Better wizards than you have lost a buttocks, you know!"

"Who do you know that's lost a buttock?" Tonks asks curiously

"Never you mind, just keep your wand out of your back pocket!" he barks, hobbling off to the kitchen. "Elementary wand safety, nobody bothers about it anymore..."

Wow, how many times did you hear that during your training?

"And I saw that," Moody adds irritably as you roll your eyes at the ceiling.

Remus holds out his hand and shakes Harry's. "How are you?"

"Fine..." Harry replies, looking as though he's still in shock at what's going on.

"I'm — you're really lucky the Dursleys are out..." he mumbles.

"Lucky, ha!" Tonks exclaims, grinning. "It was me that lured them out of the way. Sent a letter by Muggle post telling they'd been short-listed for the All-England Best-Kept Suburban Lawn Competition. They're heading off to the prize-giving right now...or so they think."

She winks at you and you smile back, remembering the side-splitting laughter that had infected you as the two of you cooked up that idea a few nights previous.

"We are leaving, aren't we?" Harry asks. "Soon?"

"Almost at once," Remus says. "We're just waiting for the all-clear."

"Where are we going? The Burrow?" Harry asks hopefully.

You shake your head. "No, not the Burrow." You follow Moody into the kitchen, the group of Order members walking in after you. "Too risky. We're set up headquarters somewhere else, somewhere undetectable."

Moody sits at the kitchen table swigging from a hip flask, taking in the many electrical appliances in the Dursleys' kitchen.

"This is Alastor Moody, Harry," Remus tells, pointing toward him.

"Yeah, I know."

"And this is Nymphadora — "

"Don't call me Nymphadora, Remus," Tonks says with a shudder. "It's Tonks."

" — Nymphadora Tonks, who prefers to be known by her surname only," Remus finishes, glancing at Tonks.

She folds her arms. "So would you if your fool of a mother called you Nymphadora."

"And this is Kingsley Shacklebolt," Remus continues. "Elphias Doge, Dedalus Diggle — "

"We've met before," squeaks Diggle, dropping his top hat excitedly.

" — Emmeline Vance — Sturgis Podmore — and Hestia Jones."

Harry nods awkwardly at each of them in turn.

"A surprising number of people volunteered to come get you," Remus says, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Yeah, well, the more the better," Moody says darkly. "We're your guard, Potter."

"We're just waiting for the signal to tell us it's safe to set off," Remus explains, glancing out the kitchen window. "We've got about fifteen minutes."

"Very clean, aren't they, these Muggles?" Tonks says as she looks around the kitchen with heat interest. "My dad's Muggle-born and he's a right old slob. I suppose it varies, just like with wizards?"

"Uh — yeah," says Harry, turning to you. "What's going on, I haven't heard anything from anyone, what's Vol — ?"

Several of the witch and wizards make odd hissing noises and Moody growls, "Shut up!"

"What?"

"We're not discussing anything here, it's too risky," Moody explains, looking around him warily with his magical eye.

"We can talk about it once we're back at headquarters," you say.

"How're we getting there?"

"Brooms," Remus replies. "Only way. You're too young to apparate, they'll be watching the Floor Network, and it's more than our life's worth to set up an unauthorised Portkey."

"She says you're a good flier," Kingsley says, gesturing to you.

"He's excellent," you reply proudly, smiling at Harry.

Remus glances down at his watch. "You better go and get packed, Harry, we want to be ready to go when the signal comes."

"I'll come and help you," Tonks says brightly, following Harry upstairs to his bedroom.

Remus pulls an envelope and piece of parchment out of his pocket, bending over the kitchen table to start scribbling something down. You walk around the room, looking at different photos of the Dursleys.

Baby Dudley, with a proud Petunia and Vernon standing over him; Petunia and Vernon on their wedding day; several more photos of Dudley growing up — there's an obvious absence of Harry. If a stranger were to walk into this room without knowing anything about the Dursleys beforehand, they would never know Harry even exists.

"What a strange device!" Podmore exclaims, curiously opening and closing the kitchen microwave while Kingsley stands behind him. He waves you over. "What does it do?"

Because of your Muggle father, you are often questioned on Muggle items and customs — though usually by Arthur Weasley.

"It cooks food," you reply. "It's called a microwave."

"A microwave..." Kingsley repeats thoughtfully, opening the door and peering inside with immense interest.

Nearby, Hestia laughs at a potato peeler that she came across in one of the drawers. You give her a look, confused as to what could possibly be so humourous about a potato peeler, but she just continues to snicker and giggle as she turns it over in her hands.

"Excellent," Remus says when Harry and Tonks return, Harry's trunk bobbing along in the air behind them. "We've got about a minute, I think. We should probably get out into the garden so we're ready. Harry, I've left a note telling your aunt and uncle not to worry — "

"They won't," says Harry.

"That you're safe — "

"That'll just depress them."

" — and you'll see them next summer."

"Do I have to?"

Remus smiles but doesn't answer.

"Come here, boy," Moody says gruffly, beckoning Harry towards him with his wand. "I need to Disillusion you."

Harry's brows knit nervously. "You need to what?"

"Disillusionment Charm," Moody replies, raising his wand. "Lupin says you've got an Invisibility Cloak, but it won't stay on while we're flying; this'll disguise you better. Here you go — "

He raps Harry hard on the top of his head and Harry's body takes on the exact colour and texture of the kitchen unit behind him, like some sort of human chameleon.

"Nice one, Mad-Eye," Tonks says appreciatively, and Harry looks down in surprise, spinning in place as he surveys his new look.

"Come on," Moody says, moving towards the back door and unlocking it with his wand.

You all step out onto the Dursleys' impeccably well-kept lawn. It looks practically untouched — a contender for the All-England Best-Kept Suburban Lawn Competition indeed.

"Clear night," Moody grumbles, peering up into the dark sky above. "Could've done with a bit more cloud cover. Right, you," he barks at Harry, pointing his finger at him, "we're going to be flying in close formation. Tonks'll be right in front of you. The rest'll be circling us. We don't break ranks for anything, got me? If one of us is killed — "

"Is that likely?" Harry asks apprehensively, but Moody ignores him. When he turns his worried eyes to yours you shake your head, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at Moody's grimness.

" — the others keep flying, don't stop, don't break ranks. If they take out all of us and you survive, Harry, the rear guard are standing by to take over; keep flying east and they'll join you."

"Stop being so cheerful, Mad-Eye, he'll think we're not taking this seriously," says Tonks as she straps Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage into a harness hanging from her broom.

"I'm just telling the boy the plan," Moody growls. "Our job's to deliver him safely to headquarters and if we die in the attempt — "

"No one's going to die," you say calmly, receiving a doubtful grumble from Moody in the process.

"Mount your brooms, that's the first signal!" Remus says sharply, pointing into the sky at the shower of bright red sparks flaring high above you.

You swing your leg over your broom — your dusty old Cleansweep Seven that you've had since you were fifteen and that has seen more of the inside of your garden shed than the open air — and wrap your hands around the flaking handle. You're a pretty average flier — nothing compared to James, of course...but who could ever compare to him?

"Second signal, let's go!" Remus says loudly, as this time green sparks explode into the air far above you.

You kick off hard from the ground. The cool night air rushes into you as you rise higher into the air, the houses and buildings of Little Whinging becoming smaller and smaller as your group ascends. Looking up, the sky is vast and clear, revealing the billions of gleaming stars twinkling above. You can't help the small rush of giddiness that sparks in you at the sight of it.

"Hard left, hard left, there's a Muggle looking up!" Moody shouts over the wind, and your circling group follows Tonks as she swerves, Harry close behind. "We need more height...give it another quarter of a mile!"

"Bear southeast and keep climbing, there's some low cloud ahead we can lose ourselves in!" calls Moody.

"We're not going through clouds!" Tonks shouts angrily. "We'll get soaked, Mad-Eye!"

You're glad to hear this, your fingers turning numb around the handle of your broom in the chill.

You alter your course every now and then according to Moody's instructions, you and the rest of the guard circling Harry and Tonks as you move.

"We ought to double back for a bit, to make sure we're not being followed!" Moody shouts.

"Don't be mad! We're nearly there now!" You yell, recognising the streets hurtling past below. "If we keep going off course, we won't have to worry about being followed because Harry'll have died from hypothermia by then!"

"Time to start the descent!" Remus orders. "Follow Tonks, Harry!"

You dive, flying lower and lower until you touch down on a quiet street with several less-than-welcoming houses lining it.

"Where are we?" Harry asks.

"In a minute," Remus says quietly, looking at Moody expectantly as he rummages around in his cloak.

"Got it," he mutters, pulling out Dumbledore's trusty Deluminator and clicking it. The nearest streetlamp goes out with a pop. Moody clicks the Deluminator again and one by one each lamp on the street distinguishes, leaving the faint glow of lit rooms behind curtains the only source of light on the street.

"Borrowed it from Dumbledore," Moody explains to Harry, pocketing the Deluminator once more. "That'll take care of any Muggles looking out the window, see? Now, come on, quick."

Together, your group makes it towards houses Number 11 and Number 13. Even though he's been Disillusioned, you can still see Harry's form shivering with the cold, and you make a slow sweeping motion down the length of his body with your wand, muttering a quiet warming spell under your breath. You hear him breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thanks."

Remus tuts quietly under his breath. "No spell for the rest of us, then?"

You smile. "You're not my godson."

Even in the dark, you can see him rolling his eyes at you.

"Here," Moody says, thrusting a piece of paper towards Harry. "Read quickly and memorise."

"What's the Order of the — ?"

"Not here, boy!" Moody snarls immediately, his eyes wide. "Wait 'til we're inside!"

He snatches the parchment out of Harry's hand and lights it on fire, dropping it to the ground, the edges curling in the flame.

"But where's — ?"

"Think about what you've just memorised," Remus says quietly.

After a moment, the run-down door of the Black house emerges in the space between 11 and 13, followed soon by grimy walls and windows.

"Come on, hurry," Moody growls, prodding Harry in the back.

You tap the door with your wand. Loud metallic clicks and squeaks sound behind the door before it creaks open, revealing the darkened hallway beyond. "Get in quick, Harry. But don't go far inside and don't touch anything."

You shuffle into the hallway behind Harry, casting a wary eye to the curtained portrait at the end of the hall, waiting for Moody to finish returning the light to the streetlamps before closing the door behind him.

"Here." Moody raps Harry hard over the head with his wand, lifting the Disillusionment Charm and returning Harry to his usual, visible state. Probably could've been a bit more gentle with it, but whatever.

"Now stay still, everyone, while I give us a bit of light around here," Moody says quietly. With a soft hissing noise, the old-fashioned gas lamps flicker to life, illuminating the depressingly drab hallway you're standing in.

Hurried footsteps alert you to Mrs Weasley's entrance, emerging from the basement door with a smile on her face as she makes her way toward you.

"Oh, Harry, it's lovely to see you!" she whispers, pulling Harry into a tight hug before holding him at arm's length and examining him critically. "You're looking peaky; you need feeding up, but you'll have to wait a bit for dinner, I'm afraid..."

She turns to you and the rest of the Order members and whispers urgently, "He's just arrived, the meeting's started..."

Everyone starts to make their way through the door, and Harry moves to follow Remus when you gently hold him back, a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry, Harry. Order members only. We'll talk later, yeah?"

"Ron and Hermione are waiting upstairs, you can wait with them until the meeting's over, and then we'll all have dinner," Mrs Weasley whispers to him. "And keep your voice down in the hall."

"Why?"

"I don't want to wake anything up."

"What d'you — ?"

"I'll explain later, I've got to hurry, I'm supposed to be at the meeting — I'll just show you where you're sleeping."

You give Harry and Mrs Weasley a wave before heading down into the basement, opening the door as quietly as possible and slipping into your usual spot beside Sirius at the table while Dumbledore speaks to Remus and Moody about Harry. You listen as Dumbledore outlines plans and guard duty: looks like you're on tomorrow night. Brilliant.

Snape sits across from you, and when your eyes meet he gives you a near-imperceptible head shake. Nothing on Wormtail yet. Then his eyes shift to hatred as he wrinkles his nose at Sirius beside you, and you notice that your husband is currently pretending to scratch his nose with just his middle finger extended, directly in Snape's eyeline.

Of course.

When the meeting is finally over, most of the Order members file out of the kitchen and upstairs, speaking in hushed voices as they enter the hall. You pull one of the scrolls of parchment from the middle of the table into your hands, skimming your eyes over a plan of the Department of Mysteries, exits and entrances marked in red.

Just then, you hear a clatter and a great, thankfully muffled, screeching starts from the hall. You sigh, rubbing your temples, and move to stand up and deal with your darling mother-in-law when Sirius gently pushes you back into your chair, standing up.

"I'll handle it."

Bill and Mr Weasley sit close by, heads pressed together as they mull over parchment and documents. After a minute or two, the screaming stops and Sirius reopens the door, Harry following close behind with Remus and the rest of the kids.

Mrs Weasley clears her throat and Mr Weasley jumps to his feet, hurrying over to give Harry's hand a shake. "Harry! Good to see you!"

Bill starts to try and roll up the scrolls and you move to help him, handing him the plan of the Department of Mysteries.

"Journey all right, Harry?" he asks. "Mad-Eye didn't make you come via Greenland, did he?"

"He tried," Tonks says, striding over to help you and immediately knocking over a candle, sending the wax spilling onto the parchment. "Oh, no — sorry — "

"Here," you say, waving your wand and muttering a spell to repair the parchment. In the light your wand casts, you spy Harry trying to catch a glimpse of what's written on the parchment.

Mrs Weasley sees him too, and clicks her tongue disapprovingly, snatching up the scrolls and shoving them into Bill's arms. "This sort of thing ought to be cleared away promptly at the end of meetings."

She sweeps off towards a dresser to start unloading dinner plates and you grab a cloth and wipe down the table for dinner.

"Sit down, Harry," Sirius says, retaking his usual spot at the table. "You've met Mundungus, haven't you?"

Mundungus, who has been snoring away at the end of the table, stirs and jolts awake. "Someone say m' name? I agree with Sirius..."

He raises his hand in the air as though voting, and you snort.

"Meeting's over, Dung," you say with a smile, giving his back a poke as you pass by with more plates. "Harry's arrived."

"Eh?" He peers at Harry before his face lights in recognition. "Blimey, so 'e 'as! Yeah...you all right, Harry?"

"Yeah."

Mundungus fumbles in his pockets and produces his trusty black pipe, lighting the tip with his wand and taking a long pull from it. A cloud of green smoke thickens the air around him instantly.

"Owe you an apology," he grunts.

"For the last time, Mundungus," calls Mrs Weasley in frustration, "will you please not smoke that thing in the kitchen, especially not when we're about to eat!"

"Ah. Right, sorry, Molly."

He stuffs the pipe back into his pocket, with slight reluctance.

Soon, a series of heavy knives are chopping meat and vegetables on their own, supervised by Mr Weasley, while Mrs Weasley stirs a cauldron dangling over the fire. Mundungus, Sirius, and Harry are talking at the table, and from the few snippets you overhear you can tell Sirius is complaining about being stuck inside with nothing to do — which you don't blame him for.

"At least you've known what's been going on," Harry says bracingly.

"Oh, yeah," Sirius says sarcastically. "Listening to Snape's reports, having to take all his snide hints that he's out there risking his life while I'm sat on my backside here having a nice comfortable time...asking me how the cleaning's going — "

"What cleaning?" Harry asks.

"Trying to make this place fit for human habitation," Sirius replies, waving a hand around the dismal kitchen. "No one's lived here for ten years, not since my mother died, unless you count her old house-elf, and he's gone round the twist, hasn't cleaned anything in years — "

"Sirius?" Mundungus pipes up, eyes focused on a silver goblet in his hands, examining it with immense interest. "This solid silver, mate?"

"Yes," he answers, surveying the goblet with obvious distaste. "Finest fifteenth-century goblin-wrought silver, embossed with the Black family crest."

"That'd come off, though," Mundungus mutters thoughtfully, scrubbing the crest with his cuff.

"Fred — George — NO, JUST CARRY THEM!" Mrs Weasley shrieks.

Fred and George have bewitched a large cauldron of stew, an iron flagon of butterbeer, and a heavy wooden breadboard, to hurtle through the air towards the table. Harry, Sirius, and Mundungus leap away, just in time to avoid the pot of stew that skids the length of the table before stopping at the end, the flagon of butterbeer that falls with a crash and spills over the surface, dripping onto the floor, and the sharp knife that slips from the breadboard and sticks in the table where Sirius' hand had been moments before.

"FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!" Mrs Weasley screams, face red with fury. "THERE WAS NO NEED — I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS — JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW DOESN'T MEAN YOU HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!"

"We were just trying to save a bit of time!" Fred says, hurrying forward and wrenching the knife out of the table. "Sorry, Sirius, mate — didn't mean to — "

Harry and Sirius are laughing, and you turn your face away to hide your laughter from the furious Mrs Weasley. Mundungus struggles to his feet, swearing and muttering under his breath.

"Boys," Mr Weasley steps in, lifting the stew pot back into the middle of the table. "Your mother's right, you're supposed to show a sense of responsibility now that you've come of age — "

"None of your brothers caused this sort of trouble!" Mrs Weasley snaps at the twins, slamming a fresh flagon of butterbeer onto the table while you clean away the mess from the previous with your wand. "Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't charm everything he met! Percy — "

She stops dead, catching her breath with a frightened look at her husband. Mentions of Percy are not particularly welcomed in the house at the moment, after Percy and Mr Weasley had an especially heated argument and Percy chose his job at the Ministry over his own family.

"Let's eat," Bill says quickly.

For a few minutes, there is silence in the room but for the scraping of plates and cutlery and the creak of chairs as everyone settles down for the meal. You sit beside Sirius, who smiles and pulls your chair closer to his as you eat.

He tugs on the sleeve of your jumper, rolling the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. "I like this, it suits you. You look very pretty."

You scoff, giving him a smile. "Of course you like it, Sirius, it's yours. Anyways, I'm thinking of going back home soon just to collect a few things," you say. "Is there anything you want? I am seriously missing my telescope here — "

A loud burst of laughter drowns out the rest of your words, as Fred, George, Ron, and Mundungus roll around in their chairs.

"...and then," chokes Mundungus, tears running down his face, "and then, if you'll believe it, 'e says to me, 'Dung, where did ya get all them toads from? 'Cause some son of a Bludger's gone and nicked all mine!' And I says, 'Nicked all your toads, Will, what next? So you'll be wanting some more, then?' And if you'll believe me, lads, the gormless gargoyle buys all 'is own toads back off me for twice what 'e paid in the first place — "

"I don't think we need to hear any more of your business dealings thank you very much, Mundungus," Mrs Weasley says sharply.

"Beg pardon, Molly," he answers at once, wiping his face and winking at Harry. "But, you know, Will nicked 'em of Warty Harris in the first place so I wasn't really doing anything wrong — "

"I don't know where you learned about right and wrong, Mundungus, but you seemed to have missed a few crucial lessons," Mrs Weasley says coldly, before shooting a particularly nasty look at Sirius and standing up to fetch a large rhubarb crumble for dessert.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Mundungus is certainly not the most law-abiding man, but he has his uses.

"Molly doesn't approve of Mundungus," Sirius says quietly to Harry.

"How come he's in the Order?"

"He's useful," Sirius mutters. "Knows all the crooks — "

"Well, he would, seeing as he is one himself," you add, taking a sip from your wine.

Sirius nods. "He's also very loyal to Dumbledore, who helped him out a tight spot once. It pays to have someone like Dung around, he hears things we don't. But Molly thinks inviting him to stay for dinner is going too far. She hasn't forgiven him for slipping off duty when he was supposed to be tailing you."

Several helpings of crumble later, the air in the room moves to a relaxed laziness as you finish telling the story of Remus's first time getting drunk at Hogwarts to Tonks, who giggles and laughs while Remus shakes his head and becomes increasingly interested in his goblet. Sirius's hand rests on your hip, idly drawing circles with his finger.

"I don't — uh — I don't remember that," Remus says, cheeks crimson as he glances at Tonks to see her reaction.

You hum, smiling at him. "Well, I certainly do. "

Tonks smiles appreciatively at Remus, yawning loudly.

"Nearly time for bed, I think," Mrs Weasley says, yawning too.

"Not just yet, Molly," Sirius says, pushing away his empty plate and turning to look at Harry. "You know, I'm surprised at you. I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort."

The change in the atmosphere is rapid: Mrs Weasley sits bolt upright, her fists clenched; Remus lowers his goblet warily, eyes meeting yours.

"I did!" Harry says indignantly. "I asked Ron and Hermione but they said we're not allowed in the Order, so — "

"And they're quite right," Mrs Weasley says firmly. "You're too young."

"Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?" Sirius asks, raising his eyebrows. "Harry's been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He's got the right to know what's been happen — "

"Hang on!" George interrupts loudly.

"How come Harry gets his questions answered?" says Fred angrily.

"We've been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven't told us a single stinking thing!"

"You're too young, you're not in the Order," Fred says in a high-pitched imitation of his mother. "Harry's not even of age!"

"It's not my fault you haven't been told what the Order's been doing," Sirius says calmly. "That's your parents' decision. Harry, on the other hand — "

"It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry!" Mrs Weasley says sharply, a dangerous look on her face. "You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?"

"Which bit?" His tone is polite, but you spot the familiar tense in his jaw and know that this calmness won't last long.

"The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know," Mrs Weasley replies stonily.

Everyone else in the room is dead silent, their eyes flitting between Sirius and Mrs Weasley as though watching a tennis match. You meet Remus's eyes across the table, subtly shaking your head.

"I don't intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly," says Sirius. "But he was the one who saw Voldemort come back. He has more right than most to — "

"He's not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!" Mrs Weasley snaps. "He's only fifteen — "

"And he's dealt with as much as most in the Order, and more than some — "

"No one's denying what he's done!" Mrs Weasley's voice rises, her fists trembling with anger. "But he's still — "

"He's not a child!" Sirius says impatiently.

"He's not an adult either! He's not James, Sirius!"

Sirius stares back at Mrs Weasley, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. His voice is ice. "I'm perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly."

"I'm not sure you are!" Mrs Weasley says hotly. "Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it's as though you think you've got your best friend back!"

"What's wrong with that?" says Harry.

"What's wrong, Harry, is that you are not your father, however much you might look like him! You are still at school and adults responsible for you should not forget it!"

"Meaning I'm an irresponsible godfather?" Sirius demands, his voice rising.

"Meaning you've been known to act rashly — "

"Enough," you say loudly, stopping the two. You inhale deeply. "Harry deserves to know a certain amount. He has been left in the dark for a month, and I have no doubt that he's used this time to come up with a few interesting theories of what's been going on. Don't you think he deserves to know what is true, from us, rather than a muddled version from...others?"

You don't doubt that a few of Fred and George's Extendable Ears have survived Mrs Weasley's purge.

Mrs Weasley looks back at you, breathing deeply. "Well..." she looks around the table for support, but receives none. "Well...I can see that I'm going to be overruled. I'll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who has Harry's best interests at heart — "

"He's not your son," Sirius says quietly.

"He's as good as!" Mrs Weasley snaps back fiercely. Great, just when you thought the argument had come to an end. "Who else has he got?"

You pause, hoping you misheard her.

"He's got us!" Sirius snaps back, gesturing between you and him.

"Yes. The thing is, it's been rather difficult for you to look after him while you've been locked up in Azkaban, hasn't it?"

Immediately, you feel your anger flare and you glare daggers back at her. "It's not like he had a choice, Molly!" You snap defensively. "How could you say something like that — "

"Molly, you're not the only person at this table who cares about Harry," Remus says sharply. "Sirius, sit down."

Sirius, who had begun to rise from his chair, sinks slowly back into his seat, face white.

"I think Harry ought to be allowed a say in this," Remus continues calmly. "He's old enough to decide for himself."

"I want to know what's been going on," Harry says at once.

Mrs Weasley looks at him for a moment, swallowing harshly. "Very well. Ginny — Hermione — Ron — Fred — George — I want you out of this kitchen, now."

Instant uproar.

"We're of age!" Fred and George cry together.

"If Harry's allowed, why can't I?" Ron shouts.

"Mum, I want to!" Ginny wails.

"NO!" shouts Mrs Weasley, her chest heaving as she stands. "I absolutely forbid — "

"Molly, you can't stop Fred and George," Mr Weasley says wearily. "They are of age."

"They're still at school — "

"But they're legally adults now."

"I — alright, fine, Fred and George can stay, but Ron — "

"Harry'll tell me and Hermione everything you say anyway!" Ron says heatedly. "Won't — won't you?" He adds uncertainly, meeting Harry's eyes.

"'Course I will."

Ron and Hermione beam.

"Fine!" Mrs Weasley shouts. "Fine! Ginny — BED!"

You hear Ginny stomping and raging at her mother all the way up the stairs, awakening Walburga's portrait when she reaches the hall. You sigh, hurrying off to force the curtains shut over the crazy woman with immense effort. You return, shutting the door to the stairs behind you, and fall back into your seat with a heavy sigh.

"Okay, Harry...what do you want to know?" Sirius speaks.

"Where's Voldemort? What's he doing? I've been trying to watch the Muggle news," Harry asks immediately, "and there hasn't been anything that looks like him yet, no funny deaths or anything — "

"That's because there haven't been any suspicious deaths yet," says Sirius. "Not as far as we know, anyway...and we do know quite a lot."

"More than he thinks we do, anyway," Remus adds.

"How come he's stopped killing people?" Harry asks.

"He doesn't want to draw attention to himself at the moment," you answer. "It would be dangerous for him. His comeback didn't quite come off the way he wanted it to, you see. He messed it up."

"Or rather, you messed it up for him," Remus says with a satisfied smile.

"How?" Harry questions, perplexed.

"You weren't supposed to survive!" Sirius says. "Nobody apart from his Death Eaters were supposed to know he'd come back. But you survived to bear witness."

"And the very last person he wanted alerted to his return the moment he got back was Dumbledore," says Remus. "And you made sure Dumbledore knew at once."

"How has that helped?"

"Are you kidding?" Bill says incredulously. "Dumbledore was the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of!"

"Thanks to you, Dumbledore was able to recall the Order of the Phoenix the day Voldemort returned," says Sirius.

"So what's the Order been doing?" asks Harry, looking around the table at everyone.

"Working as hard as we can to make sure Voldemort can't carry out his plans," Sirius answers.

"How do you know what his plans are?"

"Dumbledore's got a shrewd idea," says Remus, "and Dumbledore's shrewd ideas normally turn out to be accurate."

"So what does Dumbledore reckon he's planning?"

"Well, firstly, he wants to build up his army again," says Sirius. "In the old days he had huge numbers at his command; witches and wizards he'd bullied or bewitched into following him, his faithful Death Eaters, a great variety of Dark creatures. You heard him planning to recruit the giants; well, they'll be just one group he's after. He's certainly not going to try and take on the Ministry of Magic with only a dozen Death Eaters."

"So you're trying to stop him getting more followers?"

"We're doing our best," you say.

"How?"

"Well, the main thing is to try and convince as many people as possible that You-Know-Who really has returned, to put them on their guard," Bill tells. "It's proving tricky, though."

"Why?"

"Because the Ministry is still in denial," you say with a sigh. "You saw Fudge after Voldemort came back, Harry — he hasn't changed his mind at all. He's completely refusing to believe it."

"But why?" Harry asks desperately. "Why's he being so stupid? If Dumbledore — "

"Ah, well, you've put your finger on the problem," says Mr Weasley with a wry smile. "Dumbledore."

"Fudge is frightened of him," you say.

"Frightened of Dumbledore?" Harry says incredulously.

"Frightened of what he's up to," says Mr Weasley. "You see, Fudge thinks Dumbledore's plotting to overthrow him. He thinks Dumbledore wants to be Minister of Magic."

"But Dumbledore doesn't want — "

"Of course he doesn't," Mr Weasley speaks, adjusting his spectacles. "He's never wanted the Minister's job, even though a lot of people wanted him to take it when Millicent Bagnold retired. Fudge came to power instead, but he's never quite forgotten how much popular support Dumbledore had, even though Dumbledore never applied for the job."

Remus clears his throat. "Deep down, Fudge knows Dumbledore's much cleverer than he is, a much more powerful wizard, and in the early days of his Ministry he was forever asking Dumbledore for help and advice. But it seems that he's become fond of power now, and much more confident. He loves being Minister of Magic, and he's managed to convince himself that he's the clever one and Dumbledore's simply stirring up trouble for the sake of it."

"How can he think that?" Harry says angrily. "How can he think Dumbledore would just make it all up — that I'd make it up?"

"Because accepting that Voldemort's back would mean trouble like the Ministry hasn't had to cope with for nearly fourteen years," Sirius says bitterly. "Fudge just can't bring himself to face it. It's so much more comfortable to convince himself Dumbledore's lying to destabilize him."

"Ignorance is bliss," you say sardonically.

"You see the problem," Remus says. "While the Ministry insists there is nothing to fear from Voldemort, it's hard to convince people he's back, especially as they don't really want to believe it in the first place. What's more, the Ministry's leaning heavily on the Daily Prophet not to report any of what they're calling Dumbledore's 'rumourmongering', so most of the Wizarding community are completely unaware anything's happened, and that makes them easy targets for Death Eaters if they're using the Imperius Curse."

"But you're telling people, aren't you?" says Harry, looking around the table. "You're letting people know he's back?"

You smile humourlessly.

"Well, as everyone thinks I'm a mass murderer and the Ministry's put a ten-thousand galleon price on my head, I can hardly stroll up the street and start handing out leaflets, can I?" Sirius says grimly.

"And people don't exactly find the wife of said criminal the most trustworthy either," you say bleakly, shrugging.

"I'm not a very popular dinner guest with most of the community," Remus tells. "Occupational hazard of being a werewolf."

"Tonks and Arthur would lose their jobs at the Ministry if they started shooting their mouths off," Sirius explains, "and it's very important for us to have spies inside the Ministry, because you can bet Voldemort will have them."

"We've managed to convince a few people though," Mr Weasley says optimistically. "Tonks here, for one — she's too young to have been in the Order last time, and having Aurors on our side is a huge advantage — Kingsley Shacklebolt's been a real asset too. He's in charge of the hunt for Sirius, so he's been feeding the Ministry information that Sirius is in Tibet."

"But if none of you is putting the news out that Voldemort is back — " Harry begins, but Sirius stops him.

"Who said none of us was putting the news out? Why d'you think Dumbledore is in so much trouble?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asks.

"They're trying to discredit him," Remus explains. "Didn't you see the Daily Prophet last week? They reported that he'd been voted out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards because he's getting old and losing his grip, but it's not true, he was voted out by Ministry wizards after he made a speech announcing Voldemort's return. They've demoted him from Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot — that's the Wizard High Court — and they're talking about taking away his Order of Merlin, First Class, too."

"But Dumbledore says he doesn't care what they do as long as they don't take him off the Chocolate Frog cards," Bill chimes in, grinning.

"It's no laughing matter," Mr Weasley says shortly. "If he carries on defying the Ministry like this, he could end up in Azkaban and the last thing we want is Dumbledore locked up. While You-Know-Who knows Dumbledore's out there and wise to what he's up to, he's going to go cautiously for a while. If Dumbledore's out of the way — well, You-Know-Who will have a clear field."

"What's he after apart from followers?" Harry asks quickly.

You exchange a glance with Sirius before he says, "Stuff he can only get by stealth."

Harry stays looking confused, and Sirius continues, "Like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time."

"When he was powerful before?"

"Yes."

"Like what kind of weapon?" Harry asks. "Something worse than the Avada Kedavra — ? "

"That's enough."

From the shadows beside the door, Mrs Weasley stands, her expression furious. "I want you in bed, now. All of you."

"You can't boss us — " Fred begins.

"Watch me," she snarls, before turning her unapproving gaze on Sirius. "You've given Harry plenty of information. Any more and you might just as well induct him into the Order straight away."

"Why not?" Harry says. "I'll join, I want to join, I want to fight — "

"No."

This time, it's not Mrs Weasley who speaks, it's Remus.

"The Order is comprised of overage wizards," he says.

"Wizards who have left school," you add quickly, seeing the twins open their mouths. You sigh, pushing your chair away from the table, patting Sirius's arm softly. "Molly's right, Sirius. We've said enough. I think it's time everyone got some rest."

He gives a half-shrug but doesn't argue, waiting as Mrs Weasley leads her children and Harry upstairs to their bedrooms.

Later, you yawn around your toothbrush, facing the mirror in the dimly-lit ensuite off Sirius's bedroom.

"She can't seriously think leaving Harry in the dark about all this is the better option," Sirius muses testily, idly fiddling with your jewellery on the nightstand as he talks. "He's not a child. He's deserves to know what's going on."

"I agree."

"And the way she brought up James — as if I can't tell the difference between my best friend and my godson," he continues in frustration. "I know he's not James, of course I know that — "

You spit into the sink, pulling the tap to rinse it out. "She didn't know James. She doesn't know how difficult it is to stop yourself from looking at Harry and seeing him. How hard it is to not look for him and Lily in everything."

"No," Sirius says after a moment. "She doesn't."

You run your hands down your face, sighing. "I can't believe she said that thing about you in Azkaban. I can't believe she would stoop that low, as if you had any fucking choice to be in there."

"She hates me," he says. "Do you see the looks she gives me?"

"She doesn't hate you," you tell him wearily, flicking off the light and closing the bathroom door behind you. You lean against the doorframe, folding your arms. "She's scared and worried about Harry, that's all. She's stressed."

"She's not the only one."

"No, she's not," you say softly, making your way over to where he sits on the bed, gently taking his face in your hands. "Look, forget about it now. What's done is done, there's no use dwelling on it now."

He sighs, leaning into your touch with a small sigh. "You really are the most amazing woman I've ever met."

"I try."

He kisses your knuckles one by one, then presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist. "And clever."

You hum, watching as his lips slowly travel up your arm, arriving at your neck, where he lingers for several moments to kiss every inch of exposed skin he can reach. "And beautiful."

He pulls you toward him so you're straddling his legs, and he grins. "So very beautiful indeed."

✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

->-> read chapter twenty-seven here!

→ all kinds of interaction appreciated

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[ss-skyearn]

Walk With Me

❝In love with the idea of loving you.❞ 

PAIRING : Lee Minho x female!reader.

WORD COUNT : 4k.

GENRE : Smut, Fluff (wow no angst for once.)

WARNINGS/CONTENT : Past angst, established relationship, feelings and emotions, they're in love (to no one's surprise), Minho with long hair, mentioned Soobin.

SMUT WARNINGS : First time together, hair pulling (not the rough kind; minho realises he enjoys his roots being tugged at oops-, this bit inspired by this post by @tasteracha), voyeurism, public sex (late at night, so one witnesses it), unprotected intercourse, sweet lovemaking, so much love and feelings *sob*

A/N : Writting fluff is nowhere near what I'm good at, so feedback is really appreciated. Enjoy, lovelies. ♡

"Everyone can see."

It's a little too late for that now. 

But it's not a complaint, not a protest, an objection. It's a simple statement, divulgence of facts, a declaration made by your brain that has long since lost the ability to conjure lucid postulations. 

"Let them. Let them see," quickening of thrusts, desperation rearing its head in the most sinful of ways.

"Let me show them how much I love you."

"Meet me outside?"

The laughter of your girlfriends drowns out behind you as you weave your way out of the single room you've all gathered in, despite having been allotted seperate ones.

"Outside?"

"Yeah, outside," you don't need to be next to him to know that he's anxiously bouncing off the balls of his feet, rocking back and forth with his bottom lip caught between bunny teeth you flick your tongue across everytime you kiss him, without fail.

You'd have to make it a point to let him know of your adoration for them the next time he decides to take your breath away with his hot mouth.

And make no mistake, that's what kissing him is like, like losing your breath, like gaining your breath all over again; like being locked in an airtight, evacuated room, like being put on the ventilator with nothing but pure oxygen being pumped straight to your lungs.

It's dizzying either way. Whether it's being deprived of the gush of wind through your airways, or being forced to choke up on all the withheld supply of air all at once, it hurts.

It hurts to be with him. But you'll choose to be hurt, to be on the receiving end of the pain, if it means he's the inflictor, the hand on the trigger.

"Right now?"

"Yeah, if that's okay," he's nervous, something you both are a lot around each other from time to time.

"Uh, okay. Okay, yeah, I'll be out in a minute."

"Okay, good. That's good," you hear shuffling, and imagine him moving from one foot to the other, "I'll be waiting outside the dorms."

"Outside the— what if someone sees you?"

"They know anyway."

Which is the truth. Inherently the private person, you'd asked Minho to keep your newly budding relationship a secret from your peers, a request he'd agreed to almost immediately. Ever the understanding and gentle soul, he'd not once asked to go public with you, even though Hyunjin told you how he sometimes drunkenly mumbles about wanting to hold your hand when Soobin gets a little too close, about wanting to get you coffee on 7 A.M. Tuesday lectures when he knows you haven't slept for more than two hours, about kissing you under the lights on prom night when all couples got their fancy on and indulged in each other after a tough semester.

He wants, yearns, craves.

But you'd been cruel enough to deny him that. Trust issues and fear of commitment aside, you'd been afraid to tell people, to introduce him as your boyfriend, because saying that aloud would make it all the more real, and you'd no longer be able to control the flutter to your heart every time he appeared in your peripheral vision, you'd no longer been able to hold back the intensity of your feelings that seeming only grow with each passing hour, minute, second you spend looking at him.

It had scared you. Understandably so.

Caught up in over your head, you hadn't stopped to consider what it all meant for him, what he might perceive this as. He had no way of knowing what you actually felt, not unless you told him.

It all happened a week ago, when your phone dinged with a notification from Hyunjin. Instead of telling you, he sent you a video this time, a video of Minho slumped back against the wall of the speakeasy you both frequent, eyes shut with his head resting on the concrete.

dumplin [2:57 A.M.]

VID_3653833_219389.mp4

he's been like this for half hr

"I love this place," his intoxicated form had rasped in the video.

Hyunjin who was behind the camera had snorted, asking the reason for the sudden confession.

Minho had grinned, all toothy, bunny smile on display, "I come here all the time with my girlf—" only to stop dead in his tracks, eyes snapping open, neck suddenly ramrod straight with panic all over his drowsy features.

"Your girl..?" Hyunjin had prompted from behind the camera, barely stifling his chortle.

"Uh, my, my. Oh god, I don't know. I don't know what I was saying."

He always was a bad liar. Even in his hazy eyes, even through the shaky video, you could see the hurt, the pain behind his actions as he rubbed the heel of his palms against his eyes, chugged a bottle of water to sober himself up.

"It's okay, Minho. I know. We all know."

"Know what?" he had asked, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

"We know you're dating the dance society president."

His eyes had widened, a fresh surge of agitation creeping its way onto his otherwise relaxed face.

"No. No, that's not true. Who told you that?"

Hyunjin had chuckled and told him he was the one who introduced you guys, and the other six seated on the table were among the very few people who did know of your apparently secret relationship.

"I don't know what you're talking about. She and I are just frei—"

The video had cut off there and half an hour later, you found yourself asking the local security guard for directions to 'The Late Bite'.

The bejewelled smile he cast your way as you entered the dining space lasted only a fraction of a second, him going back to pretending you were mere acquaintances and your heart had all but given up.

Marching to him, you had gotten him up on his feet. Ignoring the confused, almost frightened look to his face, you had for once asked your brain to shut the fuck up, and finally given in.

You kissed him. You kissed him on the mouth, swallowing the gasp he let out, ignoring the gasps the people in the diner let out, cradling his face with care befitting a porcelain doll, for truly, he was. As fragile as fine china, as delicate as the first rays of sun hitting the horizon.

Not the tough guy he pretends to be, the hard exterior, the unbreakable shell. You know him to be none of those things.

The dazed smile, the look of blatant relief he'd given you before collapsing on you, mumbling a small breathy, "thank you," was all you needed to know that you'd made no mistake. This was how it was supposed to be, always.

And so it had began.

He held your hand when Soobin got a little too close, he got you coffee on 7 A.M. Tuesday lectures when you were running on two hours of sleep, he held your nape and kissed you under the nightlights, because prom had passed by then but it didn't matter to him, he had kissed you, kissed you, and kissed you some more, till your head got fuzzy from the lack of air supply, till it was physically impossible to stay connected for even another second.

And that's how you find yourself here, making your way out of the girls' dorm in the quiet of the night, it being well past midnight by now— not before checking your reflection in the common bathroom once, fluffing out your hair, splashing some cold water onto your face.

He's standing under a street lamp with his hands into the pockets of his fleece jacket, unmatching with the track set he wears underneath.

He's the single most picky person you know when it comes to styling outfits, deciding what goes well with what, which colour compliments the undertones of another one. Well, besides you of course. Your friends teased you both about how you were practically cut from the same cloth, the same material but different textures, so alike in all the places that mattered, so different in all the places that didn't so much.

So the beige jacket atop the cherry red track set stands out a little too much, and your heart thumps a little too fast at the possibility of his eagerness to see you outweighing his need to look presentable at all times.

You shuffle forward, heart picking up its erratic staccato, the same way it does every time he's within a mile's radius, threatening to jump out of the confines of your ribcage, trying to lunge for what was once so out of reach, for far too long.

He's reclined against the street lamp, eyes closed, head thrown back against the cool metal pole, allowing the ombre light to fall straight onto his fluffy mop of hair. It's unstyled, freshly washed. The caramel tone compliments the muted yellow light streaming down his face, painting him, drowning him.

Your heart aches from running a mile a minute.

Or from feeling so full. You aren't exactly sure.

"Hi," you squeak tentatively, not wanting to disturb him when he looks so peaceful. And beautiful. God, he looks beautiful.

His eyes flutter open. Your heart breaks open with them.

He forgoes pleasantries in favour of wrapping his arms around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his chest, and you hold him back, hug him back, squeeze him like you never want to let go. Because really, you don't. Not now, not ever.

"Where's your jacket?" he mumbles into your shoulder, stroking his face back and forth against it, much like the stray cat that visits your dorm room at nights does.

"Mm?"

He chuckles, "It's cold out. Why didn't you put on a jacket?"

"Oh," you pull back, there's pink dusting your cheeks, and you really hope it passes as the consequence of the chilly night, "I guess I forgot."

He smiles wide, affectionate and all kinds of pretty, and the tear in the front of your heart deepens, curling a little to the back, threatening to split it into two.

It's not so impossible a situation, you suppose. Lee Minho is very much capable of shattering your heart into a million pieces with a single smile, then healing it back with a kiss to your temple, breaking it along new cracks, then moulding it back together with the same blowtorch he uses to melt sugar atop his Crème Brûlée, the blue flame made all the more hot with searing kisses, aimed at trapping you into this cycle where he plays with your heart, keeping it with him to do as he pleases.

And you'd let him. Let him have his way with you, to make you, unmake you, only to make you again.

You're his clay, and he's your artist.

You're brought back to the present as a sudden warmth engulfs you, and when you look over your shoulder to see the beige fleece jacket dropped around you, it warms you from the inside too.

"Hey, you'll catch the cold, you have an assessment tomorrow too—"

He shrugs, "I'll live."

"Minho, seriously I'm fine, here take it back—"

"It doesn't match my fit anyway," he entwines your fingers together and begins slowly walking, guiding you along.

It's then that it clicks. Glancing down, you take note that the jacket actually goes with your outfit, and you refuse to pick up on the reason for this coincidence, for certainly, it's not one. It's planned, thought out.

You'll ignore it all the same. For the well being of your poor heart that's working overtime, your senses that are on high alert, your hand, so so warm engulfed in his large one.

"Where are we going?" you ask instead.

"Just a night walk," he begins, and you've spent enough time with him by now to know that his voice sounds bashful, the little shy lilt to it endlessly endearing, "wanted to spend some time with you."

You clutch at your chest with the other hand, exhaling a deep sigh, and squeeze his hand, praying that it's appreciation enough, that it compensates for your inability to verbally acknowledge his thoughtfulness.

But if there's one thing that he's, without a doubt, mastered about you, is your tells.

He knows when you're too abashed to outright admit it out loud that you appreciate him.

He knows when you're too overwhelmed to downright confess you're having trouble staying focussed.

He knows when you're too exhausted to unequivocally divulge your reluctance to anything social.

He just knows. But you don't; you don't know what you did to deserve this, to deserve him.

You still don't think you do, truth be told.

When you snap out of your daze, you both are no longer on campus grounds, walking along a lone street you don't recognise, lit by flickering lights threatening to give out any moment, but in a moment of vulnerability that surprises even yourself, you find you're not scared. Because Minho is with you, and as long as that stands, as long as you're lucky enough for that to stand, you know you're safe.

"Where are we going?" you echo your previous question.

But this time, he grins with a mischievous glint to his eye, looks you over and his pupils dilate, as if merely looking at you is enough to kickstart his heart into overdrive, "You'll see."

And see you do. Twenty minutes later, here you stand, bare feet pressed into the wet sand by the shore, both arms wrapped around his bicep, head resting on the trusty shoulder, humming along to the sound the breeze makes as it whisks past you.

"Are you cold?" he whispers, despite there being no one except the two of you on the beach at this time of day, taking your hands in his and swiping his thumb over your knuckles, assessing the answer for himself, lest you lie to not worry him. "Mm. No, you're not," he hums to himself, guiding your head back where it rested against the crook of his neck, only this time wrapping his own arms around, engulfing you in an embrace that speaks of warmth, of comfort, of love.

But for some reason you aren't sure of yourself, you resist, not taking his lead in going back to your previous stance, instead just staring into his eyes with something you don't know, but it seems he does, for his facial expression turns from surprised to lovestruck in the matter of a second.

He leans in, granting your silent request. Really, you don't know how he does it, almost like you don't have to say anything at all, for he hears you loud and clear without you having to utter a single word.

If what people say about having a soul person is true, he is yours.

And as your lips slot together, the waves behind you crash the loudest they have today, as if the nature is rejoicing, the elements exuberating, witnessing the collision of two beautiful souls, their stitching together into a single bracelet in the form of two bright pearls.

He is the black one, burning passion and quiet peace.

You are the white one, inherent perfectionist and loud existence.

You compliment each other, matching almost every piece of clothing in the wardrobe, neutralising when the other gets too much, burning along when the other gets dim.

"I love you."

You don't know what love means, what it stands for, what it entails.

But you're in love with the idea of loving him.

"I love you," you echo into his mouth, forgoing the "too" at the end because it makes it sounds like a passive confession, a favour returned, when it's easily the truest statement you have had to utter in all the time you've spent thinking about him, him, him.

"I love you, I love you," and alas, once you say it, you can't seem to stop, you want him to know, you want the whole world to know. You want to write it on the stars for the universe to read, that you are his, and he yours.

"I love you so goddamn much."

It hurts, it hurts so much, more than it did an hour ago when you caught sight of him standing outside your dorms. Now that your heart is aware of the gravity of what it feels for him, it just hurts.

When he pulls back, it's to hold your chin in the care of his palm, making you look at him, his eyes glittering with the beginnings of perspiration.

"I love you," he says simply.

To any onlooker, it might have seemed tame, insane maybe, for you two haven't been saying anything except the same three words in the last ten minutes.

But you know, only you know that they aren't the same words.

The first time he said it was to test the waters, to see if you would run away.

The first time you said was to check for yourself, did you love him?

The second and third time you said it was to tell your heart that yes, yes you did, you loved him more than you did anyone before, and it's a wonder how it took him saying it first for you to realise that.

The final time you said it, it was to him, to let him know that you did.

The final time he said it was to say yes, he knows, he knows that you do, that he knows the first two confessions were for your heart more than they were for him, that he's proud you've let down your walls enough to let him in, that he's grateful you've chosen him.

You suddenly find yourself descended on the shore, your back pressed into the cool sand that tickles your nape, Minho hovering over you with a look that can only be described with three words.

I love you.

"Be mine?" he says with wet kisses trailing up your jaw, stopping after every one to take in a deep inhale.

It's silly maybe, to say that when you're already dating but you know what he means, for you feel the same.

"I already am," you say as your body cants upwards, up, up, up, towards him, towards safety.

His hands trail down your body to where the waistband of your sweats sits, tracing along the diameter it transcends, looping his arm to the back to lift you up a tad more.

"Can I?"

You don't know what he's asking for, your motor and sensory neurons having stopped working, still chanting the same words over and over, 'iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou'.

So you nod, letting him undo the knot that rests on your lower stomach, letting him expose you in a manner most intimate, letting him have you for him, surrendering to the onslaught of pleasure.

When he sinks down on you, stretching you open for the very first time, it's with a groan you wish you could record, paste onto your eardrum, for every time a sound reaches the tympanic membrane, it would vibrate, carrying with it the symphony of the voice you want to hear every second of everyday.

As the initial euphoria of letting him in wears off, with him buried to the hilt, you look up at him, his soft brown hair falling down like curtains on either side of his temple, spilling over his nape that's suddenly too narrow to contain all the strands. And it's then that you remember saying you loved it whenever he was too busy and pushed back going to the salon, his long locks a guilty pleasure, your indulgence.

You reach your hand forward, entwining it with his silken strands, just holding, feeling, "Did you grow them out for me?"

"Yes," he whispers without a beat, as though waiting for you to take note of it without him having to say it first.

This time, the tears do trickle down your eyes, staring up at what you only appreciated from a distance.

"I can't believe t-this—" you choke out the last word when he begins moving, ever so slightly pulling back, pushing forward with a little more force, a little more ardour, the veins in his neck all the more prominent with the strain it takes to hold himself back from going faster.

You tug at his roots, a sharp hiss emanating from somewhere deep in his throat, the roll to his eyes evidence enough of how there's now another reason for him to keep his locks long enough to pull at.

He presses his body closer to yours, coming down on his elbows, kissing down the trail of your hot tears on even hotter skin underneath. It's his way of saying he's listening, an unspoken encouragement for you to continue, but also that it's okay if you don't.

But today is the day you've decided to bare it all to him, to not coware back, to let him know what only you have for what seems like forever.

"I s-saw you on the day of the orientation," you barely get out, coherence slipping past your fingertips much like the fine sand particles you're currently making love atop.

He stills, looking into your eyes, searching for something, "The very first day of college?"

You nod, stretch your lips into what you hope is a smile for your tears are cascading down with a current, sweeping anything and everything that dares come in the way of your route to him.

"That was like, five months ago," he seems incredulous, unbelieving that you were, in fact, the first to notice him and not the other way around.

Entangling your other hand into his hair, fingers brushing the one already slotted in there, you chuckle, "Yeah, it was like, five months ago. I had my eye on you for quite a while, pretty boy."

He doesn't buy the distraction you only half hoped he would, tenting his eyebrows into an upside down V, "And?" he prompts, yet again knowing that there's more to what you're saying.

"It's silly," you mumble, turning away from his gaze that puts your well being at risk.

A gentle finger to your chin, a swift sway of your face to pin you under the same gaze.

"Tell me." Simple as that, with no way out.

Maybe you don't want one.

"I-I saw you on the first day, a-and… I just, god you were so pretty, I thought— I wanted you already, but I thought you were a little too pretty, you know? And, and that eveyone would want you too, and you'd have so many options, ones better than me, and I'd have to get in line, and then—"

A firm press of lips, locked together in love and lust, in lieu of reassurance that you know is still coming.

"It was you for me, always," he says when he pulls back, "there's no line, no one else, just you. And me. Just us, hm?"

"Mm," you hum, losing yourself in the rhythm of his hips that have begun moving once again, small whimpers escaping right into his ear that is pressed against your cheek. Whether it's deliberate or not, you don't know.

He grasps onto one of your ankles, winding it around behind him, the space thus created allowing him to push in all the deeper.

"Oh god, Minho—"

His pace picks up when you pull his hair enough to cause a faint sting on his scalp, in addition to being a direct result of the way his name keeps overflowing past your lips.

You gasp, fighting for air, clutching onto his shoulders, afraid he'd slip away if you let go, "Everyone can see."

It's a little too late for that now.

But it's not a complaint, not a protest, an objection. It's a simple statement, divulgence of facts, a declaration made by your brain that has long since lost the ability to conjure lucid postulations.

"Let them. Let them see," quickening of thrusts, desperation rearing its head in the most sinful of ways.

"Let me show them how much I love you."

Feedback and reblogs are very highly appreciated. They're what keep the community alive and help content creators stay motivated.

[Send an ask if you wish to be added to the permanent taglist.♡]

© ss-skyearn 2023. All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting and translating any of my works is not allowed.

[thunder-shadow]

ive got many!!! 1, 4, 5, 8, 17, 21, 27, 28, 37?!

Thank uuu <333333

Do you daydream a lot before you write, or go for it as soon as the ideas strike?

Oh boy, yeah I daydream a lot haha - usually I get an idea and write down the bare info for it (like the ship and maybe one or two scene ideas) and then I just let it marinate for a bit, usually listening to music or reading! Then ideas usually pop in from there XD I'm a daydreamer all the way

4. How do you choose which fics to write?

Usually it's just whichever one I feel needs attention at the moment? Or whatever my brain latches onto haha

Like yesterday I meant to edit the GHE chapter so it could be posted, but instead I wrote the Earthcury one-shot turned multi-chap (which I wanna finish b4 I post it)

It's very wishy-washy is what I'm saying LOL

5. How many wips do you have?  What fandoms/pairings are they for?

All of WIPs are for SolarBalls haha I can only write for one fandom at a time XD

Okay, so obviously I have the GHE fic, the Jupixturnus fic, the Vercury fic, and now the Earthcury fic (those are all multi-chaps); then I have my oneshots, of which I plan to write Vars, Vearth, another UraEarth, a fluffy Jupiturnus one, a Poly Rocky planets one, and I still have a Sol & Nemesis one with snippets, as well as the post-paranoia Luna fic that still needs its chapter two LOL (and then I have a titanearth smut + jupixturnus smut that i'm thinking abt but shhhhhh)

That doesn't even count the random ideas I've just jotted down in my notes app LOL

8. Post an out-of-context spoiler from a wip.

Oh gee, lemme find one I feel like posting!! I don't have any spoilers to be honest, bc i haven't written since i posted the ghe one or i would've used that 😭 so just have a snippet from my latest wip

I actually posted this the other day but deleted it like immediately LOL but here! from my earthcury college AU

‘Okay,’ Earth thought, narrowing his eyes. ‘First midterm is in 7 days. One week. You’ve got this,’ and he pumped his fist, ignoring the weird looks a couple of people threw at him. ‘Just need to study. Actually study for once.’ Then he looked down at the multitude of papers spread out in front of him, his laptop propped open to a chemistry video from a Youtuber he’d found on line, and groaned, letting his face fall onto the table. Across from him, Mars let out a laugh, flipping another page in his book. “Earth, I don’t know what your definition of studying is, but putting your head on the table and giving up is not studying as far I’m aware.” Earth looked up at him through his lashes, sending him as much of an annoyed look as he could muster before groaning again. “Organic Chemistry is going to kill me! Why did I decide to become a biology major?” “I don’t know. Why did I decide to become an Astronomy major?” “Because you’re weirdly obsessed with aliens?” “Wha-” Mars spluttered, putting his book down and looking at Earth. “No!” “Because you weirdly like math?” “No, Earth, because I enjoy astronomy! I like learning about it!” Mars rolled his eyes, taking a sip from his water bottle after a second. “And I know you’re the same way about biology because we’ve been roommates since freshman year!” “Ughh,” Earth whined in response. “Just let me melt into a puddle and evaporate away so I don’t have to take these midterms.” “You could just study for them, you know.” “That was my plan! But that involves studying…” “Oh, wow,” Mars said, throwing him a stare that just dripped with disdain. “Studying involves studying, I really didn’t know that, Earth.” “Fine!” Earth stood up, shoving his stuff haphazardly into his backpack. “I’ll go to the library! And this time, I’m going to actually study!”

17. Do you have a writing routine?

Nope! I literally just sit down and start writing oop

21. Do you prefer writing chaptered fics or one-shots?

I prefer writing one-shots just bc it feels simpler, like a one-and-done LOL but multi-chaps can be fun too!!

27. What area of writing do you feel strongest in?

Being able to write a lot 😓 and body language, I feel quite confident in body language LOL

Also my grammar and language use, despite my copious use of em-dashes, semicolons, and ellipses I otherwise really just innately understand most grammar bc of how much I read when I was younger ‼️

28. What area of writing do you want to improve in?

DIALOGUE 😭😭😭

37. What fic has been the hardest for you to write?

The GHE fic hands down, it just feels so complicated 😭😭 I'm slowly chugging a lot, we're nearing the last few chapters :D

[jtl07]

jt (finally) watches warrior nun - s2 e1 (pt 1)

Slowly, slowly making my way through s2 e1 (finally!) so I think I’ll just post as I go because this is gonna take me a while. Plus it doesn’t help that it’s these avatrice scenes lol

So let’s talk about that first avatrice scene (I’ll be referencing this video clip throughout because making gifs and me don’t mix) - and wow, I did not expect that to be right at the start. They really weren’t messing around in building up avatrice for this season huh?

Anyway, three things that stuck out to me in this scene: 1) how tense Beatrice is, 2) conversely, how easily she bends to Ava, and 3) that was not the first time Ava has kissed Beatrice.

(Gonna make separate posts for each of these because oops, this got long)

First, Beatrice’s tension - I mean this both in an emotional and physical way. To start with the former: Bea scolds Ava for chatting up customers and talking about Adriel, but how did she know when she was upstairs?

As in: In order for Bea to have known this, she either has super-hearing and can hear from upstairs (or planted listening devices/spy bugs around the bar - that actually would’ve been interesting but still unlikely) or she went downstairs, witnessed the interaction - likely huffed a bit lol - then went back upstairs. And somewhere in that sequence, she asked Hans to get Ava for her.

That seems a lot, no?

It did make for a cute intro to Bea though, seeing her pop out like that and in civilian clothes, but idk, it just makes me amused at how … extra, how tense, how wary she is. Even after two months, she’s still wound up - though, perhaps if she’s aware of her feelings for Ava here, then this is her reaction to that awareness: to be more strict, more tense, more discreet.

Because I feel like to Beatrice, “discreet” is less about not attracting attention and more about being hidden. It fits how she’s functioned thus far - hiding her self behind being a sister warrior (remember what Beatrice said in s1 e8? “Pain is what made me a sister warrior” not, “Pain is what made me who I am”), hiding and hating her queerness.

So it makes sense that Beatrice would see Ava “chatting up customers” about Adriel and instead of engage Ava right there (or even be the one to ask her to talk instead of Hans), she instead chooses to hide herself away.

Huh. I just realized - hiding is Bea’s version of running away.

Okay this is kinda fascinating because all the talk about running has been about Ava, which has been deliberate and I’m looking forward to seeing that arc play out, but huh, I never thought about Beatrice running. She runs from her feelings - examples that are coming to my head are when she denies her jealousy, but we also have her physically running away from Ava when they have the balcony talk (i.e. the “I let my emotions blind me to the mission” scene).

But Ava doesn’t let her hide - Ava’s the worst at hiding, really. She’s too bright, too open, and, this is part of my second point (which I’ll make a separate post for because this is already getting long lol), that it’s Ava’s light that brings Beatrice out of the dark, that eventually gets Beatrice to bend and release that tension.

Okay, need to end this here, will be back with the other points ... sometime soon. Hopefully lol

[eaglefairy]

A new world is born.

Began with a little world tour to kill some unique monsters and get more experience (and affinity coins)

After the Bana fight Roommate: Huh, I wonder where Bana went after this. Me, gleeful: Oh? You want to see Bana now? ... Roommate: He's on the wheel now! Me: He's on the wheel now!

I'd recommend looking back at the previous post on my blog for a conversation much too long and winding to include in this post. It's worth it. Trust me

We're finally back at Prison Island and we literally walked past the fight that made her ragequit last week. The deinos don't attack us on sight anymore and the rest of the enemies won't spawn if they aren't fought so we just. walked past.

...and we just got the second bolt element so we are once again not fighting Dickson. This is like the third time we've walked away from the main story in the endgame, it's honestly kind of funny at this point

Upon seeing Demon King Dragonia for the first time: "OH. MY. GOD." "Ok but can you imagine like canonically...like people talk about the giants sometimes but no one talks about the dragons. And then finding out they're real??"

So I thought we were mostly keeping up with the collectopaedia, but we're looking at it again and we're missing items in Colony 6, the Ether Mine, Makna Forest, Valak Mountain, two from Galahad Fortress, and the Fallen Arm. What...what happened?!

My roommate is very disappointed that we don't really get any lore about the dragons and honestly, I agree with her. They're so cool and there's only three of them and we don't know anything about them except that they were likely important to the Giants because of their presence in the decor of Prison Island

Oh shit we're going for it. Past the point of no return!

Oh oops, I didn't make it clear that "point of no return" meant that she couldn't save past that point. Well, at least we have the autosave at Gondorl

Dickson...his death really tore her up. This is the only time she's cried throughout the whole game

:Saturn: Roommate: "Saturn, ok." still sniffling Me: "Saturn." Roommate: "...wait, Saturn?!"

"Jupiter?! So I'm actively in the solar system?!"

We're at the Moon now. "So the whole thing...the whole thing happened on Earth?! What the hell happened to Earth?!"

"Oh good, we don't have to fight Alvis. He'd probably beat me" (we are about to fight Zanza, she doesn't know yet)

I forgot how horribly ugly Zanza's second form is, wow. The roommate is not impressed either

Alvis: "I am Monado." Roommate: "I KNEW IT! I said that last week! Tell them I said that last week, Eagle."

Oh interesting, the experiment cutscene in 1 doesn't actually show Galea touching the button. I always thought it had. I'll have to rewatch the version from 2 then to see if my anger at the retcon is as justified as I thought

Time to beating Zanza: 99 hours

Final roommate stats: Game rating: 10/10, 5/5 stars, absolutely perfect game. Worldbuilding, design, characters, perfect Favorite character: Dickson, obviously Top 4: Dickson and Riki are both number one (whole head and whole heart respectively), Sharla and Reyn are number two, everyone else is below those Favorite area: Valak Mountain (and really any area that glows) Least favorite area: Bionis Interior by FAR Favorite town: Frontier Village Favorite party member to play: Fiora Favorite and least favorite story beat: Mechonis Core (because it's complicated) Favorite uncomplicated story beat: When Xord speaks for the first time and when Fiora is discovered to be alive Most heartbreaking moment: Dickson's death

Thank you all so much for joining us on this journey. I never thought I'd be liveblogging the entire game like this when I started, but it's been so fun to chronicle the entire game for the good people of tumblr. I've made new friends through this! Reaching the end of this game is bittersweet (heavy on the sweet), but it's certainly not the end of the liveblog! It's not even the end of this liveblog, honestly. Join us again tomorrow for more sidequests!

[skayafair]

What is it with me being drawn to the most fucked up personalities ever 🤦‍♀️

Let's talk Hilbert, pt. 1

There was a post where I was totally freaking out in the tags but it's got buried in the drafts, so I'll just go off it here, but hopefully in a more constructive way. I really hope my mind didn't lose its ability to do this yet. Buckle up, this is going to be a long one. (I mean it.)

I want to rant about how wrong the accent sounds and how the character is yet another example of a distasteful trope in north american media, but the fuckheads in the government confirmed this trope in multiples so whatever. Besides, I can't really complain when the character turned out to be compelling and... well. "Complicated" would be a bit of an overstatement I think, but - complicated enough to spur some thoughts.

So my first thought was the one I started the post with, because after the first shock of Hilbert's mutiny settled and future episodes revealed more of his behaviour, backstory and character overall, I had to admit with a certain amount of inner horror (10% to 20%) and frustration (at least 80%) that yes. "Oops, I did it again".

I have a history with such personalities, feel drawn to them and have been really, really trying to stop this nonsense for a year, but. Uh. Looks like this code runs too deep to scoop it all out just like that, huh. Anyway, back to the topic.

Well, this time I at least know exactly why the character compels me so much. "Airlock, please."

I'll start with why I've grown to be okay with "mad evil russian scientist" trope - not because the above mentioned fuckheads in the Gov confirmed it (they did and I hate them and what they're doing but unfortunately can't do anything about it), any generalisation based on a trait like nationality, gender, race and so on is a very bad thing I don't want to participate in no matter the circumstance, - but because Hilbert was given an actual well-rounded personality, and, most of all, I can't help feeling tons of respect to it. He is pretty smart, after all - knows several languages, has a degree in molecular biology, and apparently AI programming is a walk in a park for him, although his skills in this department aren't as great compared to actual specialists (but then again Maxwell is in a league of her own and is far above most of her colleagues even, so everything is relative). Being this well-versed in a field not directly connected to his own and mastering several foreign languages is. Well - wow. I'd respect this alone.

Hm, I'll start again, from the beginning.

Hilbert turned out to be the character I felt more interest towards pretty soon (the other two being Hera and - later - Eiffel), probably after that joke about "people keep saying that, and yet my problems keep going away". There wasn't much time between the moment he stopped being just a comic relief and his betrayal, but that time was enough I guess. Because the very first thing that grabbed my attention and kept it till the end was just how easy he is to understand. Seriously, of all the characters - I can barely trace what they could potentially do or think, they aren't defined enough for me (and that's fine, I feel this way about most people), - but this one is crystal clear.

It's his whole... personality frame? the way he speaks and thinks? It's just very clear. Not always as logical as he'd like to believe, but close. Most things he says are very reasonable, and... ugh. I'll round back to this anyway, so better let the cat out of the bag right away: I'm ND, and I've seen some people headcanon him to be autistic, and I don't really have any better way of describing why he's so understandable to me. It's just the way neurodivergent people think - different for everyone, of course, and NTs can do this like that too (after all, there are SO MANY unintentionally autistic or ADHD characters out there), - but there are still patterns, and I recognize them here.

It's in his reasoning and actions before the Christmas "surprise" - mostly calm, collected, speaks very directly and straight to the point. He mostly keeps up this pattern even when he lies.

And then, once you learn where you stand with him - after the mutiny - you know. Even when he hides something, it's clear that he's keeping things. He has a very distinct moral code and follows it, so when lying has no point anymore, he doesn't. I don't think he lied to the crew after the initial betrayal at all? Idk, I may be forgetting things, listened to it just once yet save for the first 10 eps (because I can't get through the last one and went back to the beginning).

There's a kind of trust in this transparency. Yes, everyone knows that Hilbert knows far more than he tells and if he doesn't see a good reason to, he probably won't say a word he doesn't want to. But the fact is, you still know about that. It's obvious when something's missing, the spaces are glaring. I have a feeling he doesn't like lying all that much, or rather doesn't see the point of it unless it's strictly necessary. Why wasting the resources when you don't have to and can direct them to more pressing matters, like saving the humanity, am I right?

So that's two points. The third - one when I REALLY realized I'm stuck well and deep - was the "Airlock, please". No hesitation, nothing. Just a polite choice. That short line fucked me up well.

Because after his betrayal I was horrified. I like how the podcast doesn't let any terrible moments slip or stay "behind the scenes" - no, if there's a life threatening situation, the audience doesn't have the luxury of sitting it out safely unaware. We're going to experience and hear it all, "present day, present time". So when Minkowski was shut out of the ship in outer space, while Doug was desperately trying to come up with a solution, I obviously empathized with them. And all this time we were listening to the doctor, proceeding with his orders in the most cold-hearted manner possible. He heard it all, too, and didn't waver. This was terrifying and I honestly couldn't imagine how this character was going to be present for the most of the podcast - I wanted him dead, the sooner the better. And - as a parallel line of thinking - couldn't help feeling it was such a waste. I started liking this character, he was goofy but really easy to understand, and it's very nice to have someone like this. Obviously everything was going to change from that point.

But then. The way he went through all the interrogations, all the insults and mocking? And his fucking choice to die right away rather than to give away the information he didn't think was intended for his former crewmates? Before that answer I thought he was keeping his mouth shut because of the company only, fear of the higher-ups or something - he did follow their orders and threw away the lives of two people who weren't strangers to him, so it was a reasonable assumption! Minkowski seemed to think the same, judging by her remarks, but no. And that moment, that single answer turned my understanding of this character upside down. None of that dignity was just a show, he really meant it.

I realized he didn't fear for himself. At all. A complete disregard of self, was it? It seemed so that moment, and yeah, it was fucking compelling - the only thing that mattered was his work and his dedication to it. If it was only that, I wouldn't be typing all this though.

Before I continue, I'll note that even this trait - this dedication - is very relatable and understandable to me. Some years ago the only value I saw in myself was in what I loved to do the most - drawing and translation. I'm very mid level, and even this may very well be an overestimation of my skills, but those were the only things that mattered to me. If I didn't do them, what was even the point of me? I didn't feel I fully lived otherwise. I overcame this way of thinking as it is pretty damaging, but I still remember it perfectly. And I still need for what I do to matter. If I manage to make some positive impact on the world around, however small it may be, that would be enough, and that would be the only thing that matters after I'm gone. Hilbert though makes this approach absolute because of his trauma. So yeah, I have a lot of complicated feelings about this all at once. It's tragic, it's admirable, it's heartbreaking and feels like the only way at times, it should never happen.

I also know very well what it means to be able to disregard pretty much anything if I believe this is the right way or the aim to be important enough. I unintentionally made my friend cry once because of this and keep this memory as a reminder of why I should always try to see other POVs and a broader picture. The absolute, applied to human principles, is a bad idea in most cases.

Also, I like that he has a no-nonsense personality but regularly engages in said nonsense. I know in the first few episodes the creators just didn't understand where to go with the podcast yet and that's why everyone and everything is so different there, but I need for things to make sense in-universe, so I'm partial to the POV that Hilbert just put up an act and dropped it later. But still, he did participate in the crew's shenanigans and didn't seem to complain about it. And Funzo? Please, it was A DELIGHT. There was NOTHING, no reasons to take part in the game but he still did. The doctor is pretty goofy when he lets himself, huh? I like this fun part of his personality. The best sign the personality is still very much present.

[breezy-cheezy]

I just want to say it's been delightful watching you get into One Piece. It's been one of my main fandoms for years, but most of the people I was following who posted about it moved on to other things and I didn't have the energy to try to find new ones, so my dash has been pretty empty of it and I mostly just kept up with the anime/manga and not much else. Your enthusiasm for it, and all the art you've been posting and reblogging, has been a highlight of my days. I have a One Piece fanfic I've been trying to finish for years, and I've felt more like writing it in the past week or so than I have in a very long time (haven't actually managed it yet, but maybe soon, I hope). I'm glad you're having fun, and I can't wait to see you get farther in the series. <3

And *I* just wanna say how touching this message is!! 🥺 Thank you for sending this, I’ve been putting off responding because I was hoarding it like a dragon HAHA

I’m glad you’re enjoying the sudden OP onslaught! Part of me always worries, but it IS my blog and I enjoy slapping a bunch of funny pirates on my metaphorical fridge, glad you’re getting a kick out of it too! Perks of a media about as old as me too is that there’s sooooo much content to dig through, it’s very fun! Even if I suck at avoiding spoilers LOL (I will at least try to shield my buddy from spoilers as she also works her way through the manga at her own pace XD)

I hear ya on struggling to finish a fic for so long…for me, with new fandom comes new ideas and we’ll see if I can actually finish these, lmao. I’m glad to hear you’re inspired again! What’s the fic about, out of curiosity? 👀 If you feel like sharing that is!

Thank you, it’s been a VERY fun read, and I hope to watch some parts in the anime later! For now tho manga is easiest for me to consume, and the art is just really nice?? 1000+ chapters used to be so intimidating but now I find it’s hard to put the thing down X’’’’D One Piece good, found family got me good! I’ll be a bit more detailed under the cut real fast (I’ve been yelling at another friend on discord with regular manga updates but I will say this)

Isa don’t open the read more :> :

I just finished Thriller Bark arc and ooooooh boy that was a Time. Zoro you are insane *sobbing* HOW IS HE EVEN ALIVE

Usopp getting to use his anxiety/depression/negative thoughts as a strength against Perona was. SO funny yet SO vindicating, I love himmmmm-

Also the stuff with Brook is one of the things I feel I need to watch the anime on because!!! Music!!! That’s difficult to translate through manga, as pretty as the art is. Same for Chopper’s send off from Drum Island, I wanna see the pretty pink Sakura Blossoms!!!! But yea Brook made me cry. I remember really hoping Laboon would pop up again and BOY HOWDY let the skeleton see his baby whale again I beg….

I just hit the Sabody arc too and spotted Law for the first time! I already know his backstory (oops I’m nosey) and WOW HE’S A LITTLE SH*T HAHAHA funny greasy lookin man good to see ya X’’’D I also love Camie!! Kinda refreshing to see a female character getting to finally make the same (if not even MORE) whacky faces like the boys do hhdfhgjkdf you’re doing great sweetieeeee 😂 (also good to see Hachi again!!)

Also the intro to Celestial Dragons and slave trade is so. Man. This is VILE. The extent of horrors the Government will look away from because they’re Celestial Dragons doing the horrors. AUGH. Gross. The situation is revealed in a really neat way too, very engaging. Sooooo satisfying watching Luffy full on punch one CD in the face tho, BLESS. Love that funky lil dude. He really doesn’t care who you are, he can and WILL punch you if friends are threatened.

ALSO I do see Ace’s execution being set up in the bg. I know in a general sense what….happens to him. I don’t like it, let him out 😭

BUT YEA I’M HAVING ALOT OF FUN THANK YOU!!!!

[promisinininining]

post project rambling

blood spills over is finished!

The whole thing has been planned from the beginning, but the exact scope of it kept creeping and creeping until it went form something I thought I could finish in around 5k words, to 10k, to 20k, at which point I gave up trying to estimate the length it would end up at. The last part (five of pentacles, reversed) ended up being longer than the previous parts added together, sitting at 26 out of 47k. Oops! That's longer than the previous longest fic I'd written on its own! It was only supposed to be a little thing to tide us over until the final part but ,,. uh, well, I got carried away a little. I had only written parts 1 and 2 before I started posting, and at that point I thought I was mostly done, so I thought it was safe to do so. (As an addendum, I did start posting because of my cute little stalker digging up my old accounts and sending abuse to those inboxes, where I hadn't closed anon off yet, so it was a bit of a spite fuelled adventure at the beginning.) I don't normally like to post things before they're finished because quite frankly I didn't trust myself to actually finish it, but I guess because I had a clear ending in mind, I was able to get there eventually.

I am not used to being in such a big fandom, so the support has been a completely new experience, and it's honestly been a little overwhelming (in the best way possible). I have been on the struggle bus these past few monoths with moving to a new house and a ton of unexpected bills on top of it, and I don't think I would have been able to get to this point without my friends and reviewers. I've met so many wonderful people, and it's been fun being in a fandom that isn't just me and my best buds.

About the story itself, there were a few deleted scenes that I wished I could put in, but ultimately decided against. Goro was initially going to physically meet Rumi, for one, but it didn't quite fit, and it felt like it was distracting from the main story too much, which was ultimately Goro finding something to live for. There was definitely not enough time for him to learn to love himself in just the short space of time where the third semester took place, but he has the rest of his life to learn how to, surrounded by people who are willing to show him by loving him back.

Sumire's relationship with Goro is also one that I really wanted to play with, especially as two extremely cynical people who don't really interact in canon. I feel like it's easy to just see Sumi as someone who's peppy and a little airheaded, but she's also extremely depressed, and put her entire existence on fulfilling her sister's wish, much like Goro's existence is based on killing Shido. I think they would understand each other intrinsically on a level that is very fun to explore, beyond "well we both love pego". Also, Atlus what the heck did you do with her. Give her to me. Let me sort it. I didn't think it helped her character any by being kidnapped for a week then beaten up and suddenly being like "wow you're right I can live as myself now". She needed to find that inner strength herself, with a little nudge from Goro who recognises the same pain. Of course, Goro's solution was "kill the person responsible" and Sumire can't reaaally do that with a hit and run, but she has a better support system than Goro and can learn to channel that more productively. If it's gymnastics, or something else entirely, I don't know.

I don't want to go too deep into the details with futaba and haru because this is already getting QUITE LONG, and I'm certain that there are only going to be a few people who have read this far, and those people already know how I feel about their relationship. I mean I was pretty clear in the fic itself, it's one of the less subtle things, I think; Futaba is the youngest, and she's extremely traumatised, and people have been enabling her bad behaviour by indulging it. It's 'helpful' rather than invasive, and okay, it saved Akira's life... but I do think there was definitely a better way to do it than bugging his phone. (Actually, another thing I didn't get to touch on is how the Thieves blatantly used Goro for their own plan regarding the interrogation room rather than attempting to understand him or his motives, perfectly fine with manipulating him back to thinking he's manipulating them, and how much that would fuck up someone who already has a complex about being used... but that's for another day and another fic, I think).

Finally, Maruki: this man is fucked up. I know it's easy to see him as sympathetic when he has the best intentions, and wants to 'help' people, but intentions don't matter when it comes to hurt and abuse. You can intend to be a perfectly kind person and still abuse your power over them. Don't get me wrong, I love him dearly, he's such a fucked up little skrungley boy, but he's definitely not the wet cat that he looks like at first glance. He's a researcher, forward in his field of cognitive pscience to the point where he awakened his own powers by himself, and has been shamelessly abusing his position as a therapist to get more information for his own gain (which, I emphasise, is to control the lives of everyone ever so that nobody suffers again) from the main cast.

Anyway, before I sign off, I will put out there that I have been thinking about Strikers, But With Baby Rei On Board. It's been spinning in my head since I finished. it's not going to happen (I refuse to do an entire game rewrite--just the third semester was an entire Thing, and I hate rehashing canon scenes), but hopefully you can glean some fun and entertaining thoughts about it. If you do, let me know! or don't.

A'ight, that's it from me. Thank you for reading. It's been... well, not long, but I feel like my writing is a little dense and requires some re-reads to fully experience it, so it FEELS longer than it is. Either way, I am kissing gently every single one of you who have made it this far down my massive ramble. Thank you, truly.

MIS

[polyamorouspunk]

If anyone ever feels like I got mad at them unfairly, there’s a GOOD chance I did but I’m just so worked up from dealing with idiots online in general (the constant wave of terfs in my inbox, years of messages telling me to kill myself, etc.) that I’m going to take it out on you. I’m not proud of it and it’s something I am working on but it’s also just a fact. Like yeah I have BPD. Guess what that means. I lose friends to having anger issues all the time. Clearly none I couldn’t live without. But the people who understand that about me and accept it *do* tend to stick around. So I’m also not “hopeless” and “driving away anyone who cares about me” or whatever. Like you follow someone with BPD expect them to have symptoms. And I’m really not trying to excuse my actions in any way shape or form. If you don’t have a scary mental illness then you do not know what it’s like. I’ve quite literally threatened to kill people and I’ve had people I live with lock their doors at night because they thought I was going to kill them. Like trust me this isn’t fun this isn’t a “well I’m just like this so deal lol” this is a “hey yeah I have a current mental illness that has severe symptoms and when I run a blog that’s very personal and I post a lot of personal stuff on, it’s going to slip through sometimes”. I’m not saying anything like “this is the real me, an evil monster!” Or like “oh look this is the kind of person he REALLY is” but like. There’s a reason why my brain did a split and cut off the anger issues and all that rage and garbage and put them HERE and not on @unorthodoxsavvy. So I could keep that blog a pure and happy place and use this blog as an outlet for the anger I do have. And that’s great because that’s what makes it a good pink blog but yeah sometimes that anger is directly unfairly! For sure! I’m not perfect and if you give me a few hours after having an episode chances are I’m gonna be like “wow that was really hypocritical of me to say” or “wow that was really unfair” but like when I am balls deep in a BPD episode there’s a good chance I’m going to take anything negative as an attack when I’m sometimes getting messages you guess don’t end up seeing that are attacks or I’m remembering the past when I have gotten them. Brain is infallible. You might say “hey that wasn’t a direct attack on you” and I might be like oops sorry brain was in “everything is an attack on you” mode because that’s how BPD works. Once again not an excuse I’m just saying like hey that’s how it works. Give me a little bit of time to cool off and go do something and I might be able to come back and apologize and be like “wow that WAS shitty, you’re right, I’m sorry” and mean it instead of me just covering my ass etc.

[gayleafpool]

I refuse to acknowledge crowpool as anything other than being like when a preteen girl convinces herself that she is in love with a a guy in her class for the sake of wanting to be in love with someone.

i somewhat agree in the sense that yeah i don’t think leafpool actually loved him she was just convincing herself she did but i also do think crowleaf is way more complex than that. i have a post i’ll link that sums up my thoughts on them but ultimately i think they’re super interesting, not bc they’re good for each other or make a good couple but bc it’s dramatic and toxic and reveals a lot about leafpool’s character. to me crowfeather works best as a piece of leafpool’s story and a tool to serve her development. leafpool is lonely and unhappy with her life in thunderclan bc she doesn’t really have any super close friends in her clan after sorreltail and squirrelflight take mates, and she feels like cinderpelt doesnt need her anymore. and then boom a cool bad boy swoops in and takes interest in her and is basically exactly what she thinks she’s looking for: companionship, closeness, and also a little bit of fun and danger cuz honestly i think she’s bored as hell of clan life and following the rules. so she runs away w him even though she’s nervous and confused bc well damn it’s not like she’s happy in thunderclan so she might as well. plus she felt obligated to give crowfeather what he wanted from her. and she ends up regretting it because she made her choice too quickly and too impulsively and also because while she may not have been happy in thunderclan, she’s not exactly keen and hearing midnight tell her that they’re all about to die in a badger attack. so she goes back and cinderpelt dies and she’s got no choice but to return to her loneliness bc who else will do her job now? and then oops she’s pregnant and she’s caught between being horrified bc this isn’t allowed for healers and her life will be ruined and her kits will grow up scorned and ostracized. but cat abortion does not exist so she has to have them and also she can’t help but want them bc leafpool truly did always want a family. and she has her babies and she loves them but starclan forces her to give them up and also she knows that it’s just not safe for her to raise them as her own. so once again she returns home to her loneliness after getting just a taste of what it might have been like to be in control of her own life and her own wants and wow i really can’t shut up when it comes to leafpool

[tothestarsinvelaris]

I finished HOFAS (finally oh my goodness) and honestly .... I'm so glad its over

(a long and ranty post with spoilers fyi)

best parts of hofas and crescent city in general (the bonus chapters were honestly so good):

Nesta and Azriel being badass, seeing more of their powers and fighting

Azriel enjoying club music and heavy metal

Nesta asking Bryce to show them how the phones worked and implying that the IC sat there with the phone for who knows how long trying to figure it tf out

Ember not being scared of Rhys at all and standing up to him, her scolding him for giving Nesta such a hard time, her starting to heal Nesta's mommy issues.

Ember seeing Nesta through the portal and saying "is that one of the princes of Hel??" (lmao I laughed so hard tbh)

Any scene at all that involved Ruhn. Specifically Ruhn and Lidia

RUHN AND LIDIA'S BONUS CHAPTER!!!! Ruhn being a little soft boy crying and just being so in love ugh

Lidia's sons being impressed by Ruhn and making sure he would take care of their mom

Lidia threatening to shoot Ruhn in the head if he got in the way of her saving her sons (tbh, facts)

the rest of that book was ..... not good I fear 😬

bc I'm sorry, you're telling me that she opened a black hole to eat another black hole; Hunt was able to stand at the edge of it without getting sucked in, then gets into a mechsuit and can just jump in and save her. Then all their friends use their magic and love to keep the portal to the black hole open while Hunt carries Bryce out of it; Bryce dies but oh look at that, Hypaxia showed up out of nowhere and used her extra cool magic powers as the new Head of House of Flame and Shadow to pull the ol' switcheroo and trade Bryce's soul (somehow) for Jesiba's and then poof Bryce is alive again and cracking her chessy, not funny jokes immediately when everyone is literally sobbing around her bc she was dead????? hello ???

and when Tharion showed up with the water and Hunt's lightning is apparently ineffective because of the water, but the HOSAB he was afraid to use his lightning in the water because it would have fried everyone that was in it????

and Bryce ditches Azriel and Nesta to fight the wyrm and then is confused why they're mad at her and don't trust her fr?? she doesn't explain anything to them and is confused when they figure out the power she has and that she has the horn tattooed in her back and want to bring her to Rhys to talk?? she lets a creepy Asteri woman out of her 15000 year old tomb to ask her questions and is then mad when Nesta kills her bc she wanted to ask more questions?!?! she steals the Starsword from Azriel and is confused when they draw their weapons on her too?! She steals Truth-Teller and then opens a portal back to her own world and is like "oops, hope they'll forgive me! teehee!" ?!?!?!?!?! and then has the audacity to assume that Nesta will just give her the damn mask of death because she asked nicely!??! shit, she's lucky she got Nesta when she was alone and used her parents as bargaining chips to somebody with mommy and daddy issues bc anyone else would have either killed her or told her to fuck off.

we had like 8 really uncomfy and not good sex scenes between Bryce and Hunt where their magic was exploding and combining all over the place and it lasted like 4 seconds, but they're both just like "wow this is the best sex that has ever sexed!! we're so cool and special and anyone else who has sex is icky and gross!!" 😬

we could have taken away half of their scenes and replaced them with more detail on much more interesting characters such as Ruhn, Lidia, Ithan, Tharion, etc etc.

Especially more Ruhn and Lidia bc they were so damn cute and the only emotional investment I had in this entire series. I am a crier when it comes to books. Like, I sobbed during a lot of the emotional scenes in both TOG and ACOTAR. The only time I cried at all during the entire CC series was when Ruhn is trying to sacrifice himself to Pollux to save Lidia's sons and mind speaks to her that he loves her and that his soul fell in love with her and that his soul will find her in the next life. Like hello?? that's adorable and heart-wrenching and we deserved more of them!!!

And like....

Bryce honestly just wasn't it. She was so impulsive, so childish, so sassy and cocky and we didn't get enough background on her at any point in the series for it to make sense. We didn't get to see times where her sassiness and cockiness were challenged or proved useful to her in any way, we didn't get to see any backstory that made it make sense why she built up that exterior to protect her vulnerability. She does impulsive things and endangers the people around her, that she cares about the most, and then gets confused or upset when they aren't happy about it. She goes around acting like she's smarter than everyone else, is entitled to what she wants, and then gets irritated if people try to challenge her or don't want to go along with what she's asking.

I have really liked all of sjm's other female characters, Nesta and Aelin included, but Bryce just... wasn't it.

Nesta is a good comparison too bc I went back and forth on her as a character, then read ACOSF and didn't like her at all for the first 1/3 to half of the book, then realized that I was the problem and that she was coping with things in her own way and it wasn't my place to determine how someone can heal from their traumas, which lead to me really liking her as a character and respecting the strength she has.

Aelin I liked the entire time, but she also had a reputation to back up her behavior and personality, she had a backstory that we learned about that explained why she came off as impulsive and didn't share her plan with the people around her, she proved over and over again how badass she was, so when she was cocky it just made sense.

We didn't get any of those things with Bryce which made it really difficult to relate to her and not find her kind of annoying the majority of the time.

Also...

I never want to read the word "alphahole" ever again.

I never want to read a character unironically referring to themselves as the "Super Powerful and Special Magic Starborn Princess".

I'm just... so glad its over.

[lanternlightss]

for the ask game LOOP🫵🫵🫵

(ask game)

HEHE BINGO !!

i am so. so normal about them (<- utter complete lie)

(Also putting the rest under the cut bc it got a bit too long !! oops !!!!)

LOVE their hypocrisy. LOVE their duality. they care so much it physically pains them, they don’t want to really be here but where else can they go ?? back to their party ? back to their world ??? the world they Left ??? destroyed ???? that bridge has burned and they keep kneeling by it hoping.... maybe ……..

but they made their wish. there’s no going back.

god i love how they try to act aloof and distant, especially with the party and their names. fighter. researcher. housemaiden. the kid. these aren’t mine (but how they wish—no, pray, they were) and i will continue to be reminded of and remind .. this traveler, this me, as such !! but !!! they were so distraught !!!!!!!! when the party !!! Did Not Recognize Them !!!! this party whom they threw Everything Away for because they loved them so much !!!!!!!!! this party who they went through Continuous, Multiple loops, because they didn’t want to leave them, truly. And Now They’re Here, and worried, but not for them. not in this time. even after everything. (I Want So Badly to see how the party would react to being told that oh. yeah. btw. thats another siffrin !! your friend a few steps to the left !!! and the time loop they were in Was Even Worse !!!!!!)

and GODDDDDD THEIR RELATIONSHIP WITH SIFFRINNNNNNN. i think about loop’s reaction to siffrin saying “you’re me.” such a completely normal amount. the laughing. sure, yeah! i’m you. and you’re me, and i hate it, that you’re right so soon like this. that i have to watch another person fall like i did. but they can’t let him burn. they can’t. it’s too much. you deserve so many things, but you don’t deserve for the stars to turn you inside out, one of us getting that fate is already enough !! keep going !!!!! AND HOW THEY COULDNT BRING THEMSELF TO KILL SIFFRIN ??? HELLO. even though they were shimmering with rage, that they get the wrong end of the stick each time, isn’t that funny, that the script always calls for a back up !! for a mistake !!!! for someone To Take It From Them !!!!! but. BUT !!!!;!;!(. THEY GOT ATTACHED. they looked in the mirror too long !!!!!! if i think about the interaction where siffrin is spiraling and loop gently pokes their hand and says, “you’re real. you’re here.” one more second longer i will EXPLODE. because . god loop and siffrin make me ill. you get to look at yourself from another view, to see them in each and every spotlight no matter how bad or good, and you realize… you can’t really hate them like this. you can call them all the words you think of yourself in your head but your heart isn’t in it. they are such a fake idgafer this star would break down instantly if someone gave them a hug they are a WET CAT that keeps striking out of fear (stares so intensely at the act 6 fight)

anyways. i love it when loop tries to self sabotage. especially when there is so much evidence otherwise to what they are sabotaging. you don’t want another siffrin around …… loop when was this ever said to you. join the found family rn please. did you See how much siffrin was interested in the cautionary tale diary ?? to have another you to lean on ??? who knows how big of a hole you dig yourself and sighs, but gets a shovel to join you and pull you out ?? there is not a force on this earth that will keep you from being loved no matter how “horrible, disgusting” you think you are. i also think it’s incredibly funny that they are coping with all of this by being an “ohoho!” bit of an asshole. who are you impersonating. the loop original of, “wow, that was kinda cringe of you, stardust!” i am shaking them so vigorously.

i hope loop is okay wherever they are after post game <3

[nerdymoon25b]

Project: Honey

so... its been about... 3 MONTHS???? i thought i was gone shorter haha... so ive been busy... despite me wanting to see her again, ARHGGH why am i being so secretive im already going against orders... So, despite me wanting to see my daughter... which KH labs is doing, i highly doubt they actually are going to just contain her again. She destroyed everything they owned, it caused a huge dent in KH labs funding since they had to move facilities, from what ive heard from Muppy its pretty bad haha. They might torture her,, or worse,,, probably worse.,, but i wont let it happen!!!!! (huh,, always wanted one of those badass manga lines,,, but it feels kinda cringy now that im saying a cool line...) ANYWAY wow did i take my pills today im getting really offtrack... oops im doing it again since i cant really look for Bee Bee myself without KH following me, ive devised a plan. i call it project honey!! im going to leave hidden stuff around in order to get people to help me look for Bee without KH knowing. kids on this box thingy call it a arg? idk what it stands for... i got the inspiration on a walk with my wife, we stopped at a nearby village (KH agent still following us), and this annoying local was talking about how their "brat" daughter ran away and left a book with gibberish in it. I looked up on the box how to decode stuff like that, and then got onto the rabbit hole of this arrg stuff. i found a small orange thing, its about 1/16th of a block, i found it awhile ago during Bees destruction, its this small orange,, thing,,, that came out of a camra? the werid things at KH labs and theres like green inside it. I call it orange-stone since it functions similarly to redstone, but way more complex. ive been spending a long time figuring it out,, its been what about,,, 2 years? since i was originally put in house arrest so ive had alot of time. i even made it to create the computor? or what the critters in here say anyway, thats how ive been postin on here! :D even if it takes a whole day to even upload these posts... and after alot of digging around on here, im gonna use disco to send a message asking people to help me find Bee. Ive noticed the orange-stone lights up and it says like,,, some weird name and then "joined the game". i swear the names are REAALLY WEIRD. like who the hell is froggie_lesbian why would u name urself that... (its ok im not homophobic i just dont know why u would name urself that) oops i need to take my meds dont i anyway ive found out whoever froggie_lesbian is and im gonna send a message from their account asking for help... in their disco... i just need to record something,,, maybe add some camera footage from that old thing khoa had me film that video from, and itll be done!! oh yeah and i also gotta lay down the clues. whoops. anyway, if your reading this Welcome to Project Honey. please help, for my daughters sake. -Moon

[tathrin]

#yeah kiss my entire ass cormac mccarthy What's up with Cormac Mccarthy? I've only seen some of the movies based on his books. Are his westerns hollow or something?

Ohhh ha ha ha so. This may not even be entirely his fault? I don't actually know enough about him and his writing to say for sure, because the one book of his that I did read filled me with so much rage that I would sooner set myself on fire than read another.

I was in college (art school, majoring in comic books) and I took all the writing classes that I could squeeze into my schedule because I love writing too (storytelling is where my heart lies, and I thought I would do that with pictures at first, but turns out I actually like writing prose more, oops). Well, my Creative Writing professor had clearly ended up at the wrong school somehow and was deeply frustrated about it — because let us just say that most of the kids at this school were not in my boat re: love of writing, and they only took classes like these because they needed a few non-art credits to graduate.

So the level of interest/talent he got out of his students was mediocre at best. (They weren't there to write, they were there to draw or sculpt or design. Of course 98% of them were half-assing or less their non-art classes.) So he was really excited to have someone who liked writing and was good at it and was excited to be there...!

But. he liked Literature. And only Literature. And I used the Capital L there on purpose, because he was one of those folks where you can just HEAR the sneer when he says "gen-re fic-tion," you know? Looked waaaaaay down his nose at all the stuff that I would consider actually good and interesting books in favor of Boring Person In Boring Life Does Boring Thing That Changes Nothing About Boring World, Wow What A Commentary On The Human Condition That Was! So Deep! Much Thought! etc type books.

(So you can see what I thought of the stuff he liked, too.)

So here I am, turning in all these stories with spaceships and witches and robots and shit and it's the best writing he's gotten from one of his students in years. He's thrilled! ...and so distressed because Why Won't I Write Real Stories? I could be Such A Great Writer if I would just get over my interest in this Genre Stuff! Woe! Alas! Weeping! etc. Someday I'll Grow Out Of It, Surely, Because I'm So Talented! All that jazz.

He wasn't a dick about it; he was actually a very nice fellow. We were COMPLETELY incompatible, but he was nice and so I tried to be nice in turn even as I gave my very honest opinions about all the boring-af shit he had us reading lmao.

So, I'm being A Good Sport about it every time he assigns his Boring-AF Projects where I'm not allowed to put in rayguns and magic swords and alien species and all the stuff that makes writing fun. But I still put in effort, and turn in good (if boring-af) pieces, and participate in class (and argue very politely for The Merits Of Genre Fiction), etc etc. He's delighted to have me, and I have no doubt that I was one of his favorite students ever, even though I had Shit Taste In Books. So he decides he's going to give me a treat! He's going to make our next assigned book a Genre Book! I'm going to be Delighted!

He assigns us Cormac McCarthy's The Road. I don't know if you've ever read it, but: don't. It was intolerable. Second-worst book I've ever read. It's a Post-Apocalypse story about some dude and his kid walking across the world to...idk. Walk? Be a Metaphor? I don't fucking know. Nobody has a name because That's Deep. And because we're being extra deep, we're going to Write Badly On Purpose because it symbolizes the Breakdown Of Society!

And by "written badly on purpose," I mean we're throwing out the entire concept of Writing So Your Shit Can Be Read By Human Eyes.

Apostrophes no longer exist! Commas hardly do either! Or sentences! Or quote marks! Or any form of useful punctuation whatsoever! Just a bunch of either fragments or endless run-ons trudging away into the abyss until you're ready to throw your soul down there with them just to fucking escape. Paragraph breaks only happen when a scene changes! Your eyes skitter-off the page as though it was coated with teflon, your energy sinking into a bleak grey misery that isn't even alert enough to qualify as despair. Every section leaves you a little less alive than before. This is drudgery, the very concept of dullness distilled into ink and printed out for all to read and suffer. I give you an except, but I don't suggest you actually read it because I'm not that cruel:

Oh my gods it was unreadable. I think my eyes actually bled. And to make it even more of a slog, it was clearly written by some dumb-fuck who'd never actually read any post-apocalyptic stories, and thought that he was Far Too Clever to need to do any actual research on the genre that he was "elevating" with his "literary style" or what-the-fuck-ever, because every character in it was so bum-fucking stupid that there was NO WAY any of them would have lived five minutes in an actual fucking wasteland. Also every single Wasteland Cliche that you can imagine, without a drop of originality or subversion or even lampshading or clever commentary or anything. It was all just...there. In the shallowest, blandest way possible.

(He also never actually defined or even hinted at What Happened, I presume because he was too dumb to figure out a backstory this was Literature and not Genre and thus Proper World Building Wasn't Necessary Because This Was A Metaphor Or Something idk fuck it. Like...sometimes there were gas-masks? but also people didn't need them? and there didn't seem to be radiation in a way that hurt anybody, but there also seemed to be Radiation Aesthetics going on...? It was just. so badly done.)

And our protagonists were SO stupidly incompetent. Just, complete idiocy, countered with Incredibly Convenient Random Happenstances (you would not believe how many Untouched But Easily Accessible Stashes Of Food these fuckers stumbled over oh my gods) to save their asses from their self-inflicted imminent death over and over and over again. An absolute travesty of a book, written in the worst fashion possible.

Needless to say, the essay I turned in on the book tore it about seven new ones. I SHREDDED it from first word to closing paragraph. Did not find one single redeeming or enjoyable thing about that clusterfuck of a "story" (and I use the term loosely) and I made sure everyone knew it. I wasn't shy about my opinion of the arrogant asshole who wrote it, either, and what I thought of the choices he'd made in writing that way, and the lack of talent and intelligence he'd demonstrated throughout.

My poor professor was devastated. He'd thought this would be my favorite book of the whole class! He picked it especially for me, as a treat! And I LOATHED it. (I hadn't realized it was supposed to be a gift to before I wrote the essay, or I probably would have been gentler in my disassembling of it. But I only discovered that when he handed the essay back. Poor man. I did feel a little bad about that. But oh my gods the book was horrible.)

So I have no idea what kind of author Cormac McCarthy is in general, or whether he's more tolerable (or even hypothetically enjoyable, I suppose) when he's writing whatever he does usually. This may be a complete outlier: an attempt to try something new (that failed abysmally) from a guy who normally writes Just Fine. I don't know! And I'm not interested in finding out, because to me he will always be the egotistical shithead who wrote the most spirit-draining, eye-torturing travesty of a book ever printed called The Road and he will not be forgiven for that crime.