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edoro · 1 year

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What do you think of "Watching and Dreaming"?

oooh thank you for asking! took me a bit to get to it but today i am MEDICATED and MOSTLY FINISHED WITH CLEANING so let's see what i can shake out of the ol' brainpan

gonna put this under a cut because it's probably going to get long, but overall: i liked it! i think it wrapped everything up pretty well, did not leave any major plot points unaddressed, and i found the timeskip epilogue to be sweet and hopeful but not saccharine or cloying.

in more detail:

seeing the three episodes we got for season 3 makes me wish so badly that we'd gotten the full run of the show that the crew wanted. i've seen word from the last post-hoot that they found out the show was canceled right before the mid-s2 hiatus, which tracks with the overall pacing and direction of the back half of s2, and it's just a tragedy. i think they did a really good job with what they had, considering the insanely compressed runtime they were given to work with.

i'm a little disappointed that the other kids didn't get more screentime in the final episode. it makes sense but i wish we had gotten more of them and their interactions with each other outside of Luz - and their interactions with Camila, too.

i honestly really loved the whole thing with the Collector. i know a lot of people don't for various reasons, but, Shrug Emoji. some of the criticisms of his whole arc really don't make sense to me - i feel like the people who are mad that they did turn out to be a misguided kid who didn't understand the gravity of what they were doing or how it affected others for various reasons (such as: being a child, having been isolated for centuries with only Philip for company, being immortal and having incredible reality-warping powers) and changed their tune when it was explained to them just, uh... were not really paying attention? lmao?

like it was pretty obvious from his first appearance that he was a child or at least very childlike, and we can easily infer from those scenes that he's been held captive and manipulated by Philip under the guise of friendship and 'letting him free to play', so everything else follows pretty naturally from that.

i liked how it was Luz, with her own childhood experience of death and grief, who recognized what was going on here and sought to explain it to them. she's always been an empathetic person who tries to see the best in others and give them the benefit of the doubt. sometimes, like with Philip, this comes back to bite her, but most of the time it's good and helpful.

i really like how we had someone just outright tell her "lmao no" to her whole "but am i JUST AS BAD as Philip???" thing. like honey, no, you have made some clumsy mistakes while meaning well, and the thing you're the most guilty about is literally just 'helping a guy who manipulated and lied to you without realizing he was manipulating and lying to you', which is not even your fault, because HE LIED TO YOU. Philip has spent centuries carefully engineering his way into being able to commit genocide. these two things are not the same.

speaking of Philip: i also know a lot of people have been upset with his ending. honestly, i'm not! i think that it tracks very well with the kind of person he's always been - a stubborn, manipulative liar who sees himself as a victim and blames everyone else around him for the tragedies that he's experienced, many of which he's directly personally caused, and who has been given chance after chance to change his mind, change his behavior, change his beliefs, and simply refuses to.

like... some people are just assholes! i don't think that the fact that he ended up lying, manipulating, treating humans as supreme, and trying to commit witch genocide to the very bitter end means that he was like, Born Evil, i think it means that he was once a sweet kid who loved his brother who grew into a cruel, hateful, manipulative man who only saw certain people as Fully Persons and therefore deserving of existence, and felt like he had the authority to decide who is or is not a person.

and honestly like... The Owl House is a children's cartoon. it's rated Y7. it is for children and part of its purpose IS to teach children things, and i actually think that "sometimes, people will hurt you, and they'll lie and say they're doing it for your own good or for the greater good, or they'll have a sympathetic reason for doing it, but that doesn't actually matter because they keep hurting you and you do not owe them infinite chances to keep doing that" is a really good lesson to teach children.

Philip's story is a tragedy and the tragedy is that he easily COULD have done literally any other thing, but he refused to. he had chances! he refused to take them! he had centuries to go, "wait, am i the baddie?" and he did not. he murdered Caleb himself and then blamed witches for that. instead of treating the grimwalkers like family, he treated them like disposable toys to take his anger at Caleb out on. he lied, manipulated, killed, stole, and hurt countless people because he felt like they deserved it because of his own unhappiness.

some people are like this! it happens! i have met them and personally been harmed by them in ways that are going to impact me for the rest of my life and have, if not exactly ruined my life, made it a hell of a lot harder than it would have been otherwise.

so for me, seeing that the ultimate resolution of Philip's story is that he refused to change, he refused to admit any fault, he kept lying and manipulating and trying to hurt people, and eventually everyone he tried to hurt and lie to turned on him and got rid of him so he couldn't keep hurting them is very satisfying.

The Owl House is a show about how people have the capability to change, but the flip side of that is that it means they have to choose to do so, and some people won't. so what do you do then? what happens when someone is hateful, cruel, and dangerous, and won't stop trying to exterminate an entire race of people because he blames them for his own self-inflicted problems? what do you owe someone like that? how many chances should you give them? how often should you let them have the opportunity to hurt you or others again?

i think the fact that he went out so pathetically is also very fitting. to the very end he wouldn't own up to anything. he just kept trying to lie and manipulate. and like many people who act this way, when his manipulation didn't work, he dropped the mask and got mad.

so yeah! i liked that aspect of it, and i feel like a lot of the criticisms are honestly just... expecting Philip to have played a very different role in the story than imo he was set up to play. he was the contrast to people like Alador or Hunter or Amity or the Collector. he was the example of what happens when someone REFUSES to change and uses any chance you give them as a foothold to do more damage. so the ending where it's just, "sometimes you have to do what you can to protect yourself from people like that" is imo quite narratively cohesive, and i think that it also fits into the overall theme of "your character is determined by your actions." Philip COULD HAVE ended differently, but he didn't, because of his own actions.

let's see... i feel very (seesawing hand motion) about the scene with Luz and Papa Titan. overall i think i like it.

i like the idea that Luz found everything through her own ingenuity and Philip didn't because he didn't treat the Isles as worth studying!

but that being said, i think there's something quite powerful about the idea of the land itself as a being with some limited level of agency, able to open itself and its resources up to someone who approaches it with respect and able to reject someone who comes in to rapaciously plunder it in order to kill those who live on it, ESPECIALLY given the fact that Philip is, literally, a white Puritan.

like that's definitely also a very meaningful narrative to me!

i don't really talk about this a whole lot here, for various reasons, but half of my family is native (Osage, specifically.) i'm not connected to that side of my family or that aspect of my own heritage for Complicated Reasons including abuse and the ongoing effects of white supremacy and colonial violence causing those members of my family themselves to be disconnected from their heritage in a way that meant that i was, basically, raised as a white person who is visually Ethnically Ambiguous depending on how familiar the people looking at me are with what mixed native people look like.

however, as someone who has perhaps a more personal connection than some others in the fandom might to the idea of "white man from a colonizer culture comes into a land foreign to him, views them all as backwards evil savages who must be purged for the safety of the good white Christians, proceeds to plunder and misuse their resources for his own gains, destroys their connection to their own history and culture and installs himself as a figurehead leading them into death" as like, a narrative, i don't think that the idea that the Titan was watching what happened and subtly nudging or influencing events to the degree that he was able to (which was ultimately a very, very small one) is like... meaningless.

and i don't think that what he said to Luz negates any of the messaging of the series. he didn't say, "you were special All Along, so you deserve my powers." he said, "you're the one who's here right now, and you seem good enough."

like... she proved herself, by her actions, to be an open and caring person who wants to do good, and specifically cares deeply for the Isles and the people on them, to the point where she is willing to sacrifice herself for them. and she's the one who is here, right now, in this moment. and she is not a perfect person, but she's Good Enough.

i actually really like that! she's here and she's good enough. she's the one in a position to do something about it and she seems okay. i don't think that it does retroactively make her into a "chosen one", because she didn't get it through her birthright or anything, she was given it because she ended up there (because she sacrificed herself to save the Collector) and she had previously shown herself to be someone the Titan thought would use it well.

so i liked that! i think that, like with "you actually do not have to keep giving someone chances to hurt you when they are a shitty liar, even if they're also sad", "you're here and you're good enough" is a pretty good lesson!

what else, what else... loved the whole bit with Philip possessing Raine and them fighting him off. loved the sequence of the two of them duking it out in the throne room and the fact that Philip just BIT them - little brother behavior for sure. Raine is a stone-cold fucking badass.

one little detail i liked a lot is the bit where they're stuck in the goop in the throne room basically waiting to die, and Eda comes in - i specifically really love how the crew got the look of soft, fuzzy, unfocused confusion in their eyes because they don't have their glasses and can't see. there's a particular way that people who need glasses to see often look when they don't have them, and they got it really well, and i just really liked that detail!

the final fight was indeed Cool As Fuck. i love how anime TOH is.

i liked the epilogue! it was very sweet. i like that it showed how people grew and changed and repaired the Isles, while not completely erasing the damage that was done. i also think it did a good job of wrapping stuff up while still leaving a lot open - it did not, imo, fall into the "jobs and babies forever" trap of something like, say, the Harry Potter epilogue, but it showed us how things went and gave us a lot of room to imagine where they'll go from there.

also love everyone's new designs. Good For All Of Them. Amity got so fucking gay and Gus is so HANDSOME now!

also of course i was ecstatic over the Huntlow lmao - i can't believe i used to dislike it! i love how often she just kind of casually and fondly manhandles him. my friend Sharo said something to the effect of, "i like how the scene where they're sliding and he stumbles and she catches him shows that it's been so long since he had to do child soldier shit that his hot jock gf is now way stronger and more athletic and nimble than him" and i haven't been normal about it since! he's SOFT now!!

so, overall, i feel positively about it! there are a lot of small threads that got dropped, no doubt due to the series being canceled, but i think they wrapped everything up well, and i feel like everything that happened actually was pretty thematically on point. i am satisfied with it! i wish we'd gotten more, but i enjoy what we did get.

#the owl house #asks #meta

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writingsofwesteros · 2 months

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Gold Cloak Daemon might not have to take action against Helaena. She’s no lover of conflict. And her sister seems happy. Her mother acting different. Though that one she doesn’t understand and decides not to ask.

She’s honestly just happy to be left to herself. It’s oddly peaceful, at least on her end. While everyone else is scheming and fucking, she’s taking time to herself. Sometimes helping her sister with her pregnancy. Daemon’s “court” of sorts brings her peace too.

Which may make Aemond feel like he’s going insane. Every other member of his family just accepting this? What is going on? He on the other hand is feeling every emotion in the book. Daemon won’t leave him unaddressed for long

Sweet Helaena just enjoying her peace right now thank you very much. She feels lighter and there is no nightmares coming to her in the night,

She will walk into the room without care and if Daemon is with her sister she tries to speak to her before pouting at being ignored.

At least she has her ladies in waiting for company

Poor, sweet Aemond. Aegon for sure taunts him as his milf of the month is allowing the Prince to feast on her ample breasts

#gold cloaks of lust

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coffeeastronaut · 1 year

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Insane to me that 13s finale was so bad like ik i literally quit watching during her run bc it sucked so bad but like. What. we got:

straight up incomprehensible plot with multiple irrelevant or unaddressed plot points beginning and then never getting finished or explained in any way (was was the master Rasputin? why did the plan have to happen in two different time periods? what were those two warring planets? why did we need the cybermen AND the daleks? why did the master use his big doe eyes to hypnotize those people?)

Comprehensible plot points that were botched (matryoshka cyberman, kidnapped energy source alien thing, ai holo doctor, yaz being/becoming the doctor in her own right, the doctor has so many friends forever and thats why shes a winner, master x doctor haties 4ever, yaz wondering if she’ll get left behind like other companions/being worried abt turning into them, dan leaving)

Comprehensible plot points that were stupid as shit (the master needing ace and tegan for the matryoshka.. he couldn’t have just kept it in his pocket? forced regeneration into the master so that he can wreck her reputation for some reason? siesmologists being kidnapped and also he graffitied some paintings (for some reason?) and these things are Clearly Related Duh. master wants to um, be the doctor for some reason? yeah im not touching that one frankly. the doctor suffering zero consequences from forced regeneration only to get laser beamed to death but then shes fine to like get ice cream and chit chat but she is dying. Dont think abt it too much.)

chibby coincidence catastrophe. this cunt loves to not write cause and effect lets just get lucky or slip or trip or fucking whatever. teagan slipping on that ladder so that she can get jumpscared but then it’s fine actually she can just slide away like dark souls, graham just like idk chilling and running into ace in the dalek lave pit, random traitor dalek (who is immediately killed and never relevant again???) just happens to contact the doctor just in time for the other daleks to use it as a trap????

and like on top of all this it had so many moments where you can practically feel chibnall begging the audience to get hype bc look xyz thing is here from previous thing on the show! like w/ the classic companions coming back (and i do love them! But WHERE was the relevancy beyond making yaz uncomfortable bc they both left in bad circumstances. Where was it.), or all of the doctors homies showing up to pilot the tardis with her (you WISH you were the stolen earth you WISH-), or the fugitive doctor (sorry i didnt watch that ep. but i know enough to know it was nothing more then a callback.), or seeing all the other doctors in 13s like dreamscape place or whatever the fuck (and what was the point of that? she just idk says hi guys! and then sits in there and waits? hello?), the companion support group (cute concept! joked abt in fandom for years! but so lame in execution im sorry!), UNIT being involved for some reason (this is the least egregious imo, since it slotted neatly into the plot. however since they didnt do anything other then say hey doc check out these paintings! ahhughh cybermen! it’s still stupid as shit.) ace and graham flirting for some reason???? LIKE WHAT WAS THE POINT HERE. Dan leaving (why didn’t he leave at the end of last episode when he was clearly thinking about it??) like ten minutes into the episode, and the doc is like okay bye! [leaves him homeless on the street] like what horrible pacing that was. And where the hell was ryan? Dan and graham come pick yaz up and ryan is no where to be seen. Maybe he could smell the bad vibes and stayed home. Christ

Yaz especially felt just soooooo botched and shitty. As i said before i quit watching after 13’s first season, but i did catch the last five min of the sea devils and even just there it was. Pretty fucking clear that they were confessing love to one another, but we ~cant be together ever~ (says the cunt whos had countless kinda-sorta-girlfriends and at least one wife!) because itll ~be sad~ (you wish you were tenrose you WISH-).

Her competence at flying the fucking tardis, delegating tasks, planning, and executing on all of it was flawless! that’s an insane level of skill for a companion to have, only ever shown in new who with River Song, and outliers like Doctor-Donna, Bad Wolf Rose, or whatever that was with immortal Clara. To have her do all that, especially with such success… it’s crazy. Usually we only see that level of competence from ex-companions, like Martha, Micky, dimension-hopping Rose, or Sarah Jane.

Both those things said. You’re telling me. The Doctor is regenerating. So. Yaz is just. Gonna go home? What? Not even that the the doctor intentionally abandoned her- although, arguably she did- just. She’s leaving i fucking guess. For no reason? After all that? I understand it’s partially a writing thing and mandip leaving the show or whatever, but like, that was seriously the best you can do? She just dips and goes to a support group?

And that feeds into a greater problem with the episode, the idea that all of this works bc the doctor has all these friends. And then she just like. Leaves. She just dips. Hits the fucking bricks ALONE. and again it’s partially the writer swap i’m sure. But what on Gods Green Fucking Earth. Not to mention it all hinges on her having friends but none of them seem to actually like her or be friends with her. it’s like houseplants instead of characters.

absolutely a shameful end to a shameful run of the show. I really hope that jodie/13 get the chance to come back under better writers in the future for audio dramas or whatever.

in conclusion, tldr, or whatever: jesus christ that shit

SUCKED

#mi #long post #good parts of the ep: im a sucker for high saturation sorry it looks baller. sacha as the master is a delight even if his writing is just #fucking ATROCIOUS he’s nice to look at thanks to costuming for putting him in cute outfits.#it’s hard to fully enjoy his acting when the material really is just. so shit. but i do like his choices and his mannerisms hes fun.ty sacha #umm… colors and sacha… um….. idk i guessthe master’s jokerfied tardis was good. ehhhh #dont get me started on the dt regen . glad to see the man but Hello? Hello? Hello?#erm. i should tag this as a long post. and also as dw so that my friends can filter this but i do NOT want this showing #up in the tags like at all. i dont want to be a prick to ppl who liked it and also i dont want to get killed by doctor who fans who thought #this was baller. sorry to jodie whittaker fans too. im sorry she sucked and i cant tell how much is her and how much is chibnall. augh.#tagged this as long post. sorry to my non-dw mutuals for my long haterism post.

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yeraskier · 2 years

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i wonder what fights between yennefer, jaskier and geralt would look like.

i imagine yennefer and geralt would clash the most. maybe it would have to do with one of them making a decision about ciri the other didnt like, or one of them taking a risk the other was afraid would kill them, or perhaps just a playful argument turned serious, but they would probably be the two who got into the most controversy in the relationship.

jaskier would always be the peacemaker, always remaining levelheaded and never picking sides. he’d try to remind them that despite all the anger, they both love each other dearly, and when that doesn’t work he’d pull the ciri card (and the him card) and that usually did the trick. maybe he grew up watching his parents fight all the time and despite how badly that hurt (and fucked him up in the love department for years to come) it taught him a lot. so he understands, and while it sometimes gets so intense he may break down and cry or go into a fit of rage, he remains calm and helps them work through it, always the glue.

but sometimes (rarely, maybe like once or twice throughout the entire duration of their relationship) jaskier gets hurt too.

that pain from being pushed away by geralt on the mountain many years ago is dull now, but it still exists, and sometimes that comes to the surface. perhaps that, along with the unaddressed insecurities from years of pining after the man while he loved another, get the best of him and he masks that sadness with anger. sometimes, he lashes out at not just geralt, but also yennefer. he’ll immediately regret it each time but instead of taking it back, he isolates himself from his family because sometimes, he wants nothing more than to not have to deal with anything at all.

i think during times like those, it would be yennefer or ciri who finally get him to speak after days of silence. they’d be gentle and comforting and present, and he’d finally crack. maybe he’d cry, maybe he’d rant, maybe he’d do both. but eventually, he leaves his room and finds geralt whos already waiting outside his door. maybe geralt’s been there since jaskier locked himself inside. it doesn’t really matter either way because in the end, he falls into geralt’s arms like it’s the easiest thing in the world because it is. and geralt holds him tight, almost too tight, and reassures him of everything he already knows but wants to hear regardless.

and truly, i don’t think yennefer and jaskier would ever have any real fights, just a lot of bickering that drive both ciri and geralt insane.

#the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #cirilla fiona elen riannon #yenralt #geraskier #yennskier #geraskefer

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distinguished-slacker · 3 years

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Anyone else wondering how does this girl’s demon look like?

And I think my popcorn has gone bad...

But seriously it pisses me off that when she had a chapter dedicated to her (chapter 45 when she almost sacrificed herself to allow the others run away from Crowley and chapter 70 when Aoi confronted her) Yuu had to butt in with his ‘family’ bullshit and steal the spotlight away from her. I am so upset like...Kagami you might love Yuu or whatever but let other characters have their own development away from him...especially the girls🤦‍♀️

And for those who loooove long posts and are somehow interested on unpopular characters like me I’ve got some cheap observations, complaining and theorising...

She is so pretty I am crying

For those who don’t know or forgot about it (I cannot blame you though), the name of Sangū Mitsuba’s demon is Tenjiryū. Their name literally translates to ‘Heavenly-Shaped Dragon’ or ‘Heaven-Shaped Dragon’ and let me get straight to the point; guys it sounds more badass than any of the other demons’ names we have! I find curious the choice of “Heaven” though since it doesn’t fit a demon🤔 Moreover, the demon of Mitsuba’s older sister, Sangū Aoi, is called Chijiryū, which translates to ‘Earth-shaped Dragon’ and I find so intriguing that out of all the cursed gears that the Japanese Imperial Demon Army must have in their possession, Mitsuba somehow happened to be compatible with one bearing a similar name to her sister’s demon.

I cannot believe this demon is of a lower series. I mean, it’s HUGE. Befitting of a dragon😤 It’s definitely either the biggest weapon in the whole series or the second biggest. I don’t know about size since Mitsuba’s axe and Shinoa’s scythe are differently shaped but in terms of mass I think the axe is heavier because it looks more compact. Also, my respects for the designer because I have never seen such a uniquely shaped war axe👌

You cannot tell me that Shinoa’s huge scythe bears the first progenitor of the vampire race while Mitsuba’s huge battle axe bears a mediocre demon oh god...

When you have a look at both Tenjiryū and Gekkōin here it’s hard to believe Gekkōin is higher ranked than Tenjiryū.

The gender is unknown although I suspect Tenjiryū is a male by looking at their muscular torso and biceps of their manifestation form. Lol it would be funny if Tenjiryū turns out to be another ripped demon like Gekkoīn because then that would mean we would have another scary demon-cute human pair😅 But I don’t really care about Tenjiryū’s gender or how they look like as long as they are not another androgynous child demon😒

Mitsuba probably has the most aggressive fighting style in this series. For being so small she sure has a lot of physical strength...and she was like this since she was 13 awwww

Tenjiryū’s manifestation into an army of multiple spectral, humanoid beasts (probably dragons) with sharp glowing green blade-like arms and heavenly blue flames is the coolest manifestation I have seen so far in this series.

Tenjiryū has two strengths: one, is that it works in two different ranges, these being close range and mid range, instead of a single range, and two, it is able to be used for both offence and defence.

This manifestation looks so scary in the manga because it reaches so high. As expected of a demon whose name has “Heaven” in their name. In my opinion, Tenjiryū has a scarier manifestation than Shikama Dōji and Gekkōin’s because unlike them, Tenjiryū surrounds the whole area and I am feeling claustrophobic pls.

But I think that the thing I probably love the most about what I’ve seen so far of Tenjiryū is that they fit Mitsuba’s personality. Their style is aggressive like Mitsuba’s personality but if you have a close look most of the times Mitsuba uses Tenjiryū is in order to “protect” or “shield” someone else which fits her caring nature. Especially if you consider that, as explained by Mitsuba herself in chapter 19, manifestation users want to avoid manifesting their demons as much as possible since letting their demons out weakens the host’s body and so leaves them vulnerable to attacks yet Mitsuba is always manifesting Tenjiryū. Such a brave girl🤧

Another thing that I find interesting about Tenjiryū is that all the times Mitsuba commanded them to do something, they always tried to do it which gives me the impression Tenjiryū is quite obedient to Mitsuba. I headcanon that despite the fact that Mitsuba seems emotionally weak, Tenjiryū likes her determination.

However, in the end, looking at Tenjiryū’s name or their manifestation is just something superficial since we don’t know their personality or true potential. So far, Tenjiryū’s manifestation has been used for grabbing something (Mika’s cut arm in chapter 52), as decoys (but are weak individually and they won’t work on progenitors), to protect someone and to slice The Four Horsemen of John from a distance.

Relatively, Tenjiryū is weak but if I remember well, in the fanbook the author said that the rank of the demons is not determined by how strong they are but by how easy they are to handle. Even Kagami went as far as to point out that with demons above the Dōji (or referred as Child too) series there is no clear difference in the strength of the weapons (and this is surprising considering how much the Black Demon rank has been glorified). Tenjiryū’s rank is Dakini, which is just below the Black Demons in the pyramid and above the Doji series. One thing that all Black Demon users have in common is that all of them have been subjected to human experimentation in the past and considering that Mitsuba is human, there is nothing she can do about it. The other requirement for Black Demon users is that they must have a strong willpower and resolution...but this girl has some serious self-esteem issues and indecisiveness behind all that “I am a Sangū/elite!” talk so maybe if she obtains a boost in confidence she will get stronger🤔

However, I don’t really care that much if Mitsuba stays weak forever. This manga doesn’t need anymore INSANE Mary Sues or Gary Stus who get sudden power ups just because they are genetically advantaged. I just want some normal, deep emotional development for her where she lets go off her survivor’s guilt and learns to accept herself for who she is because she has been so hardworking since little and to tell Aoi to go suck Kureto’s d*ck if she is so loooyal to the Hiiragis as she says but maybe that’s asking too much.

My hopes for Tenjiryū’s appearance reveal are small but I still try to remember that despite all that happened in the manga Mitsuba is still a main female deuteragonist with a lot of unaddressed potential and also for the characters in universe it has been less than one day since chapter 70 (while for us it has been almost 3 years) so it’s not like Mitsuba can do something amazing in that short time frame where the focus is on Yuu, Mika and Shinoa. Moreover, I remember Kagami saying that there is something waiting Mitsuba so I hope he didn’t forget about it💔

Additionally, some people have observed that humans and their demons share similarities so I wanted to point out a small observation for this human-demon pair. Mitsuba was born on the 7th of July, which is the day of Tanabata/Star Festival, a popular Japanese festival that celebrates the meeting of two lovers represented by the stars Vega and Altair, who are separated by the Milky Way and can only meet on the 7/7 once a year. I think this goes well with Tenjiryū’s sky related name :3

If Kagami doesn’t give Mitsu attention then I will do so and I don’t give a fuck if I am being annoying

#owari no seraph #seraph of the end #mitsuba sanguu #tenjiryū #sangu mitsuba #sanguu mitsuba #mitsuba sangu

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ergativeabsolutive · 2 years

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Honestly, on reflection with a few exceptions most of the works i like the most are separately and simultaneously good and bad. The thing about hs specifically though is it just happens to bring both of those aspects up to eleven while also being completely fucking insane. Like, I guess what I can say about it is it's a genuinely interesting and engaging work that builds upon itself to the point of eventually being only comprehensible in context (the slow build of the first three acts is a feature* not a bug) if you're paying attention and even then is off the wall in a strangely compelling way, but also it is filled with racist and ableist moments that aren't so much like. a core underpinning of the work like with something like aot as much as they are an artifact of the edgy 2010s internet subculture hussie belonged to at time of writing. It's to the point where you basically have to be able to tolerate reading a work written by a kinda fucked up early '10s terminally online annoying and edgy white *rapidly flipping through pages* nonbinary person, and know thats what you're getting into to like it, and even then there are some parts that are genuinely complete shit that in some cases should just be entirely skipped unless you're morbidly curious, actively trying to make a criticism of said parts, or uh. have very bad taste??? But also the weird thing about it is that it went on hiatus so many times, for.... varying amounts of length to the point that hussie realized at like the very end that they fucked up and like started trying to clean up their act?? except they left probably the worst issues unaddressed???? It is so strange. Like cool you addressed the fucked up family dynamics with seriousness finally and the characters apologized to each other for the 2000s preteen homophobia. Yeah we guessed you were sorry about that when the characters started being gay. Not gonna touch the two R-shaped problems there in the text though, huh? Okay then.

anyway what was I saying. Oh right. Homestuck simultaneously deserves every bit of love and hate it receives, in a way that's kind of hard to grapple with which is why i don't actively recommend it to people who don't know this shit and also actively ask my advice. which actually would make it a passive rec but fuck me i'm not making my sentences even more complicated to cater to pedants. but fuck its also more complicated than that. I think jan Misali's conclusion is right in concluding that its just too expansive of a thing to have only one opinion about. Nuance is really the wrong word. And leave it at that for everyone's sanity.

*Like everything, it's more complicated. "Feature" implies Hussie did it on purpose, which, like, uh. No. But also maybe a little bit?? It's complicated.

#txt #rant #i uh have Thoughts after watching jan Misali's video. its a good video #homestuck

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anonniemousefics · 4 years

Text

My Dearest Inej | Chapter Six

Chapter Masterlist

Originally posted on AO3

Rating: Teen And Up

Synopsis: A series of letters kept among the personal belongings of Captain Inej Ghafa.

Chapter Six: Dear Nina

Hello, lovely,

Some news and a request. I am going away on an assignment for the next several months, and this one’s rather sensitive. It means I’ll be out of reach for a time. Don’t worry your wonderful Inej brain about it, though. You know very well I’ll be just fine.

Here’s how I’m thinking we make due in the meantime. I’m writing down all my adventures and silly thoughts to send you as soon as it’s safe, and then we’ll be able to catch up in no time at all when all is right with the world again. You should do the same. Once I’m able, I’ll send a giant wad of letters along with where I can be reached to the Van Eck mansion for Wylan to hold on to for you until your next trip to Ketterdam. There. Not so bad, right?

I miss you more than cake. And that’s not an exaggeration. Be safe, lovely. And give them all hell.

All my love,

Nina

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(enclosed in an overstuffed envelope marked “Nina”)

(translated from Kerch)

Dear Nina,

Your last letter has made me grouchy. I don’t know if there would have ever been a good time for you to fall off the map, but I think there could have at least been a better time than this. I’ll take your suggestion, though, and settle for trying to imagine your face when I tell you these things. When you read this, let’s imagine that we’re at that cafe in West Stave. The one with the little white tables outside. You’ve ordered enough waffles to feed five men, and I’m all hopped up on hot chocolate, and we can’t stop snickering. It’ll happen again someday, right?

I’m going to use this letter to take a break in entertaining you with stories of battle at sea and the many delightful ways in which bad men beg. I’m docked in Ketterdam today with my head dangerously full of some truly mortifying events. I don’t know what to do, Nina. Keep eating your imaginary waffles – I’m going to offload a great many details and bring you up to speed.

I’ve told you that Kaz and I write letters. That they’re sort of a romantic nature. I know you think I’m crazy. I’m well aware that I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t know -- there’s just something about him I can’t give up yet. And I love these letters. They’ve become the first thing I pick up at every new port. They’re these little slices of Ketterdam – all of the good stuff, that is, and none of the bloodshed.

It’s dangerous, though, isn’t it? Only getting the good side of things. It messes with your perception of reality.

It should surprise no one that Kaz Brekker is good with pen and paper, considering how we’ve seen him con. Sometimes I worry that’s what letter-writing really is to him. Another way to con. He says things in letters that you could not even imagine, Nina. He can be affectionate. He can be really funny, maybe even playful. He can also write the most sincere, heartfelt sentences. You read them, and you really forget he’s, well, Brekker. It’s almost like, when he writes me, he’s not. Like some other side comes out when he picks up a pen, and it’s the side I’ve always hoped was really there all along.

I’m such a goner for this other side, Nina. It’s become a problem. Try not to spit out those imaginary waffles.

It’s a problem because, in person, when I’m in Ketterdam, he’s still Kaz Brekker, the persona, the enigma. It started messing with my head, because there is such a stark contrast between Kaz Brekker the enigma and the Kaz who writes me these insanely charming letters. That’s not to say Kaz Brekker isn’t trying to be less enigmatic, but it’s little things. He can take off his gloves more now without having violent reactions to a brush of skin. He’s managed to hold my hand for a few, brief moments. I’ve tried to cozy up to him, but I don’t know. It’s impossible to know what he thinks of it, if he likes it, if he hates it, if he resents it – until a letter shows up. And then he’s writing, “I miss you” and “I’m dreaming of tasting your lips.” (I’m imagining you making that silly fanning yourself gesture, and I really hope that’s true. Saints, I miss you.)

I’m rambling so much. I wish you were just here instead.

He wrote me this letter after Jesper’s birthday, Nina. Ughhh, why are you so far away? It was a really good letter. A really, really good letter. We had a moment during this hot air balloon ride (yet another reason you need to come back to visit Ketterdam – we do birthday experiences now). Jesper and Wylan were on one side of the balloon’s basket, wrapped up in each other and all the sights with their backs to us. And, out of nowhere, he pulled me close, tucked me right up against his side, close enough that I couldn’t help but hold him back. At first, I could actually feel his heart racing and thought maybe he’d pull away. But he settled after a minute, and we rode in the balloon for a good while like that, stars overhead, city lights below. That was all, and it was more than enough for me. I still think about it all the time. He told me later that he thought it was a nice night, and so I thought it best to leave it at that. We had a nice night. Nice, like when your dinner isn’t ruined or someone opens a door for you.

But this letter that awaited me in Os Kervo. You know Suli, right? So, if I use the phrase (nearest translation: “I shit a brick”), you’ll understand just how shocked I was. He wrote how he never wanted to forget that night and the way I looked and the way he felt. It was perfectly un-Brekker-like. It might have made you cry.

The contrast has never seemed so stark.

And so it came down to this: I needed to know that Kaz Brekker in Ketterdam was capable of actually being this person who keeps showing up in envelopes and using his name.

Which brings me to my most recent trip to Ketterdam. This was the trip after the hot air balloon ride. Before I arrived, he asked if I wanted to stay in the Slat this trip – with him. Don’t choke on your waffles, please. Nothing was going to happen – he can barely hold my hand for more than a few minutes, and at least one of the times it’s happened, I had to bribe him with Ravkan toffees first.

I had one condition for this arrangement. I wanted to bring letters for him to read aloud. Perhaps most incredibly, he agreed.

Right. This is where it gets ugly.

I’d spent the day at The Slat. Usually my first day on land, I find I’m unusually exhausted, and everything in The Slat is fresh and new since Seeger’s fire – I’d even venture to say comfortable. I slept most of the day, a luxury I know you’d appreciate. I was up around dinnertime, and he’d brought in dinner. (It was those meatballs and mash pots we used to love so much. I hope I’ll be able to eat them again after this without wanting to hurl.)

Dinner seemed like a good time to try out the letter reading. We’d spread out the food on his desk and passed a bottle of kvas back and forth to lighten the mood before he rolled up his sleeves and I gave him the first one. I had tried to pick a variety of his letters to bring along, the ridiculous ones right up to the one I can’t get over – the one after the hot air balloon ride.

Before you get too excited, we didn’t get to the hot air balloon ride letter.

It was going so well in the beginning. My cheeks were hurting from smiling so hard, listening to so many charming words come from that voice. He seemed to be enjoying it even – feet up on the desk, a sip of kvas here, read an old joke there, and he’d try not to smirk to himself when it made me laugh. He even let one of his own laughs slip once or twice. It was just what I wanted. I felt like I was finally putting together a whole picture out of two halves.

But then we came to this letter he’d given to me on the docks of Fifth Harbor, thanking me just before I left after Seeger’s fire. I was getting ready to hand it over to him, and my heart dropped right into my feet. Nina. I’d forgotten I’d written something really, really, REALLY embarrassing in the margins. Just. Sankta Alina. I don’t know if I can repeat it.

I tried to skip over that one, but he was having none of it. Everything had been playful and a little flirtatious up until that moment, and he swiped it from my hands. Sankta Elizabeta, my face is burning up while I’m writing this. Tell me this is salvageable. Oh, wait, you’re in backwoods Fjerda or something. Ugh, why, Nina, why?

Everything got really quiet – he’d seen it right away. I could tell he was surprised, but that was it. I have no idea what else was happening in that brain of his.

What it was was this. I’d made a note of how different he was on paper and labeled that Kaz by his original name. I’d written that I like Kaz Brekker, but after these letters, I was in love with Kaz Rietveld.

NINA. (Untranslatable Suli vulgarities)

I snatched the letter back – he wasn’t even making eye contact with me. He hadn’t even budged. It was too horrible. The silence felt never-ending. So, I left. That was yesterday. Now I’m staying on the Wraith. Maybe forever.

I have to say something, and I wish you were here to help me figure out what to say. Somewhere in the back of my mind, there are fragments of lessons and sayings my father would have about this, if I could only cobble them in to something coherent. I’m trying and trying to imagine how he must be feeling.

He couldn’t have been that surprised about my feelings, could he? Not after all this time, not everything we’ve written. It’s not as if I’ve been terribly coy. I’m forcing myself to believe he would not be horrified to know how I feel. No, there’s something else.

How awful it must feel to think someone you trusted finds only a part of you lovable.

I have some soul-searching to do, Nina.

Come back.

Inej

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(hand-delivered, unaddressed envelope)

Dear Inej,

I’ve spent the whole night thinking, and I have some things to say. I won’t read this one out loud, so if you have a hard time believing it’s me, I guess you’ll just need to get creative.

I know you’re embarrassed. You might remember I have intimate knowledge of what it’s like to be in your position. At first, I wanted nothing more than to ease your mind and put everything back the way it was. There was a large part of me that was awestruck that you’d find even a small, half-dead remnant of myself worthy of loving. I was ready to crawl back to you and do anything to erase this moment from time.

But then I realized that’s not a fair deal to Kaz Brekker.

And before you start making faces, I’m not becoming one of those politicians that likes to bloviate in the third person. Just for the sake of clarity in this letter alone, I’ll use the labels that you used.

Inej, Kaz Brekker saved my life. Yours, too. And a lot of other people’s. Kaz Brekker could find me food and dry clothes and shelter when there was no one else. Kaz Brekker has fixed and built and risked and fought and salvaged. And yes, there are a good many things he’s terrible at, like not being an unmitigated asshole. He is not friendly or particularly kind, and he’s rarely truthful. There are many things he should never have done. He’s done unthinkable things he’s not even sorry for. Trust me, Inej. When it comes to hating Kaz Brekker, I have a front row seat.

But the only reason there’s a Kaz Rietveld here for you to love at all is because Kaz Brekker brought him this far.

At first, my instinct was to write a letter detailing all the many ways I can become more like the man you love. And that’s not to say there isn’t some wisdom in trying to coax him out a bit more – you tend to have good taste in most things. There’s probably some value in striking a balance.

But Kaz Brekker is part of the deal. You can’t have one without the other. There is a lot about him – about me -- that I would not and will not change. So, I need to know that you see the same value in him. In all of me. Because, if you can’t, I’m not sure it will matter how much I’m in love with you, too.

And to think we might have avoided this whole mess if I just would have let you bring a flute. To that I say, mati en sheva yelu. I am in love with you even if you play a damn flute.

Are you smiling at least a little bit? I hope so.

Sincerely,

K. Rietveld

#six of crows #soc #six of crows fanfic #crooked kingdom #grishaverse #leigh bardugo #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #nina zenik #fanfic #fanfiction #kanej #kanej fanfic

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b0ttl3d-up-st4rs · 3 years

Text

Well I'm gonna do what I do best and self reflect to an insane amount. This is probably gonna be a long post so buckle up.

To be honest my behavior for nearly the past year now is concerning to say the least. There's this little voice in my head that just desperately wants to get more and more hurt, more and more traumatized. Why is that? At first glance the negative approach could be to say its some sort of masochistic behavior and any negative repercussions as a result of this behavior is deserved, but I don't really think thats the case.

Self sabotage is a characteristic that can be exhibited in many mentally ill people and I am no exception. I think this behavior, of seeking to be hurt by grown men on the internet is partially self sabotage.

And I remember when I first started this shit show, I just wanted attention. Sounds mean to say, but craving attention is something the human soul desperately wants. And I was starting to feel some sense of self beauty but I didn't feel as though anyone around me was appreciating it so I tried to get attention from grown men because being showered in compliments and attention felt so good when my whole life I've never gotten any of that.

I think there's more too it, though. Looking back my whole life it's almost as if I've wanted to get hurt. In books I liked to sit around with the pain the characters felt. And its almost like I wanted to get traumatized. I've heard that people with trauma that they don't acknowledge is trauma or think its bad enough to be traumatizing seek put worse forms of trauma, in order to feel that pain is valid. And I think that's part of my issue too.

I do have unaddressed and repressed childhood trauma. I was given unrestricted internet at a young age and was exposed to the horrors of the internet. Nothing like straight up porn, but a lot of suggestive content. And in general being exposed to that caused me a lot of catholic guilt as I was raised catholic. I remember feeling like knowing these things were my fault. Many days I felt so guilty that I would pray to god to let me not wake up in the morning.

As a child I also questioned my religion a lot, which i think was traumatic in itself. Religion is a big thing. And as a kid I had a big issue knowing reality from fiction. Heck I still do. I remember as a kid my friend telling me that we were all demigods and one day we were going to run away to camp half blood. That the percy jackson books were real. It sounds stupid now, but I processed that as real and it was so stressful for me.

And I remember being 12 coming out as trans and as a part of the lgbtq community to my parents. They didnt react well. They said I was confused. My mom said I was both too young and too old to know. I fought a lot with my mom. And in general have a lot of unhappy memories from then. I was outed multiple times in my life.

My relationship with my parents still isnt good. My mom has a tendency to be toxic. I hate that I have to stay in the closet around my family its so painful. Like a month ago I mentioned the lgbtq community for the first time in years, asking my mom her opinions on it and if it changed since 2017, and it turned into her yelling at me and making herself a victim. It really hurt. I forgot how much it hurt.

I don't really have much of a relationship with my dad. We barely talk. Hes very emotionally distant. When I'm at my dad's house I sort of fend for myself. Its the exact opposite at my moms house. She's overbearing and never leaves you alone. It's like going between to extremes.

And honestly I can't wait to move out. My mom and I have arguments a lot. But hey at least I have some relationship with her, I don't really have a relationship with my dad.

I remember one time this year, I was during the end of a school semester. I needed to catch up on work because after talking to my abuser for like 5 months and then unlocking him I was left in shambles and fell into a really bad depression to where my motivation for school just disapeared. Im still dealing with that tbh. Anyways I had to go to a online meeting to choose my classes and I didn't get to choose the classes I thought I would be able to, and that made me really upset. But after the meeting I had to go to do am act of kindness (I chose picking up litter at a graveyard cause i like graveyards) for my school project but I was still distraught. If I was given some time to myself I probably wouldve been able to go without issue, but my mom wanted to go immediately. We argued. And when I got there I refused to leave the car because I felt so much like shit. We argued more. It was the worst argument I ever had. She even swore at me. Which she's never done before. And she ended up playing victim again. She does that a lot I guess. And doesn't really listen to my feelings. Whenever I try to communicate about my feelings with her it turns into an argument and she makes it about herself. So yeah our relationship isn't the greatest. And I think having mommy and daddy issues is a trauma in itself. Ppl deserve to have happy healthy supportive families.

Oh right and another trauma I completely forgot (funny how that happens) is when I was 14 and admitted to a mental hospital because I tried to off myself. It was so surreal and they forced me to learn how to make eye contact with people cause apparently thats "how they know im doing ok". Which is kinda fucked considering the fact I recently realized I might be autistic. And eye contact is literally so painful for me. It especially was back then. Anyways the place itself wasnt too bad but the feeling of being trapped overall sucks and being disconnected from the rest of the world isnt fun either. Also I dissociate all the time but I especially dissociated hard thru the whole experience. And sort of made myself into the perfect patient, repeating all their bs and literally lying to myself to convince myself that I was ok so they would let me go. So that was kind of weird.

Anyways I know I have it better than others. And honestly sometimes it's hard to tell what exactly was traumatic in my childhood. I probably forgot and repressed other parts of it too and am forgetting things. But needless to say these unaddressed traumas didn't help my mental state. And i do think that's a big part of the voice in my head begging me to just get hurt more.

Overall my mental state is fucked, It's been really hard for me not to be taken advantage of by another internet pedo. Heck the only reason that isn't happening rn is because no ones dmed me yet. Also I unblocked my old abuser and we are talking again now so thats fun. It definitely doesnt help the cognitive dissonance in my brain of him being actually a nice and supportive dude. I think thats also a part of me wanting to get more traumatized. Since my abuser is a nice person that should counteract all the fucked up sexual things he said to me in the past right? I mean others have it worse, had worse abusers that were actively cruel. That's part of the bitch in my subconscious brain talking. It sucks tbh.

Anyways yeah I probably need therapy but I don't feel comfortable talking about this to my current counselor and honestly its really hard to say out loud. I can talk forever about it by writing it down but the moment I speak words from my dumbass mouth I break down in tears and can't do it. Plus idk, I'm scared if I say anything she'll have to tell my parents and that my phone might be taken away or I'll have less privacy and for a closeted queer where my only current life line is the internet and my online friends: that is a terrifying idea. Idk. I'm fucked basically.

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mychemicalaromanticism · 3 years

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things ive already established r on this post

besties this got so fucking long but heres a giant ramble about cherri

okay so. there are huge differences betwn cherri as a hyperviolent drac hunter and cherri as a friend of the four and cherri as the girls mentor. with the first one he was 17 and desperate to distance himself from his upbringing so he went all in on Being A Killjoy. he was always one of the first ppl to rush into a fight and he fought hard. he blew up his fuckin hand with that attitude. and all the while he was just racking up more unaddressed trauma and eventually he ran away from that, too. giving himself radiation poisoning was more appealing than facing his problems.

so as a teenager/young adult hes kind of constantly in a panicked state. hes scared the people from his past are going to find him and drag him back with them. so he lashes out and he runs away over and over again.

i said in another post that he has some past life shit goin on which usually would give him a connection to the witch that manifests early in life, but with all the stuff hes gone through he has been Preoccupied. he can become oblivious to almost anything that doesnt apply to whatever hes focused on. not in a hyperfocus way its likeeeeee. when u live on survival mode during prolonged periods of stress. hes immune to magic bullshit bc hes too tired and scared.

anyways around his mid-20s he finally has a little more stability (as much as the average person living in the zones can have, that is) and he finally notices that Weird Stuff happens around him. basically: out of my list of Powers People Connected To The Witch Have he has the prophetic dreams/enhanced intuition as well as a form of sensing ghosts where he can see auras and kind of like, echoes of past events in ppls lives. that look like auras. itz complicated and not of utmost importance so im leaving it at that.

anyways thats what makes him start writing poetry. just 4 funsies he'll describe his weird experiences and embellish them to make em pretty. just as a casual hobby n all that.

he would forget fun ghoul in between the times they ran into each other but its pretty easy to be reminded of who fun ghoul is. the most insane 10 year old cherri has ever met. cherri isnt a brother figure to ghoul. hes just. his friend that happens to be more than twice his age. its whatever lmao

to cherri, ghoul is kinda like a stray animal he keeps seeing. which is hilarious. ghoul actually goes and finds him to introduce him to jet when they start running together, and cherri meets party and kobra (spark and birdie at the time) when he drives the four of them to a party. because he has a truck hell yeah. so now instead of one stray animal he has, like, a feral cat colony that he drives around occasionally. i have no real-life human relationship equivalent to them because irl if some guy that is not related to any of you and isnt even a childhood or family friend and theyre hanging out with you? they are usually not a safe person lmao. but this is my fantasy land and im too stubborn to change anyones birth years even though ghoul being born in 2004 makes everything really hard to make not creepy.

so yeah hes a casual somewhat friend of the fab four. hed probably get more and more concerned as they got famous. the beginnings of any sort of protective feelings, awww :) that sets him up for becoming the girls mentor.

OH FUCK. THE GIRL..... i think if i was in my late 20s and i heard that the gang of 13-17 year olds had adopted a 5 year old kid i would go bananas. what the fuck. it is a LONG while before cherri meets her. but he has the strongest affection for ghoul (if you could even call it that) and ghoul absolutely adores the girl and swings her around under her arms like a cat to show her off to cherri and its very endearing and the girl is sweet and funny so its easy to be around her. and (unfortunately) she is somewhat used to interacting with weird easily agitated people so she kinda gives him space. cherri isnt quite the uncle figure the fandom usually makes him (i luv uncle cherri sm but he simply cannot exist in the universe ive created, f), but hes a little similar.

and then the four had to go and pretend to die. lol.

when the girl was kidnapped, fucking everyone who knew her was ready to storm the city then and there. like regardless of how little you knew her, if you had ever met her you would fucking die for her. she is pure childish charisma and shes precious. i love the girl. so cherris immediately on board with whatever plan the four make to get her back. ive already talked abt how it fucked up the girl tho; there was no way to tell her that the four werent actually dead, she sees the building collapse and she shuts down. and cherri has to fight against his instinct to leave the radio station and never come back when he sees an eight year old girl sitting dissociated on the couch. that fucks everyone up.

i just realized i havent talked about literally anyone else at the radio station. i think cherri started lingering around the station bc it was safe and sheltered while also not being a popular spot. there are less kids there (people pass through but its not a hangout spot). he was kind of just hanging around to get away from the heat and noise and dr d took notice. because that man can see ur soul and no one knows if thats literal or not. so theyd chat a few times a day and show pony was the one 2 get him out of his shell a little and also was the first one he mentioned his poetry hobby to. im making this all up right now as im writing bc i dont know anything about LITERALLY any of the ppl associated w the radio like im not even going 2 try with chimp n newsie i do not have the willpower to tackle all that. justttt. cherri pony n D become bros and live 2gether there.

back 2 the regular timeline. the rescue mission happens in 2019. the girl lives at the station until 2023. during that time she is very much depressed and withdrawn and is only happy when the four come to visit. none of the Adults know how to help her so they just keep her safe and cared for and hope she'll open up to them.

she does not. she takes the weird cat thats been hanging around and she runs away.

cherri does not see her for three years. shes still worse for wear in the mental health department and he can see all kinds of visions of what shes been through since the last time he saw her and he fucking hates the ultra vs bc they remind him of his past. he does not want her going down that path but its obvious that she isnt crazy abt the ultraviolence thing either so thats a relief.

they have a kind of tense relationship throughout the comics. he feels like he failed her and that spirals into feeling like he failed the four for not being a good adult to them and fun ghoul for not helping enough when his commune was bombed and all kinds of shit and that irrational thinking mixed with plain old, yknow, caring about the girl, is what makes him take a bullet (laser. whatever) for her.

i was trying to figure out the timing of each of their ghost experiences, but i want both of them to talk to the witch and im just gonna make it like dreams where a whole buncha stuff happens but irl its been like seconds. so its like barely a second while the girl has her Witch Convo and cherri FINALLY gets a straight answer, yes there is weird shit going on with him having powers. he doesnt have any story-significant past lives because im lazy, hes just an old soul. like really fuckin old. the amount of latent life experience and stuff his soul/energy/whatever has picked up along the way makes him VERY noticeable to gods n stuff. he fuckin lights up all the alarms like what the FUCK is that over there. she wasnt rly able to get to him or even properly notice him while he was a kid and a young adult so shes happy to finally see him again. he has a STRONG sense of familiarity with her. they know each other on a wild ass level that he cant really comprehend.

welp thats some more lore I'll have 2 think abt. anywayz

post canon is when he and val get to have the most awkward spiderman meme moment of realizing that they have the same trauma SOOOOO thatz fun lol /s sorry kings i thought it would be fun to give u something fucked up to bond over <3

not much changes in his personality. he has a better understanding of Weird Magic and delights in freaking out the ultra vs but for the most part he returns to his life at the radio station. i love him

THIS GOT SO CRAZY LONG I DID NOT MEAN 2 GO THROUGH EVERY PART OF HIS LIFE LIKE SOME WEIRD CHARACTER STUDY but here we are. this is basically a first draft like almost all of this is subject to change but u gotta start somewhere. so heres my start i love this guy. its probably obvious but i have not read ANY twitterverse killjoys stuff </3 maybe i will someday idk

#cat talks #lore #ok2rb but what a mess this post is

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

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Walk Away (Part 2 of Addicted)

There’s a certain kind of strength to walk away from a bad thing. Calum thought he had done that; but the past always comes back around. Female Reader Insert. No specific race of the reader.

CW: Drug Use/Drug Mention (Tobacco/Cigarette). Alcohol Mention.

Enjoy my masterlist | Part 1-Addicted

Support me on kofi.

____________________________

Here of all places, of course. Here when he’s wearing old basketball shorts and a sweatshirt. Here when he’s just trying to tune up on his car. Here of all places, of all times. She approaches the front desk. “I really hate to do this. But my car’s making this really weird noise. I have a long drive tomorrow. It just started earlier today. Can you take a look at it?”

He hasn’t seen her in months.

He’s worked hard not to run into her. He avoids the old bars that they used to frequent. Not together. Never together, but the ones that she would beg him to come too, just she wouldn’t have to drive to get her fix. He doesn’t visit her side of town, no matter how inconvenient to him. He made the occasional sacrifice for when the boys wanted to hit up a place near her, but he never broke the rule on avoiding those old bars. Never. It didn't matter how annoyed anyone was at it. He had to stick to that one. Because if he didn’t, with any amount of alcohol in him and her presence, he was sure to crumble. He was tired of her.

But the sight of her in those light wash distressed jeans and snug cropped top make him almost forget all the trouble she’s caused. Calum forces his gaze back to floor as she and a worker leave the shop. He’s praying she didn't spot him. He’s praying that she will not come back into the shop. She disappeared on him after the last time he went over to her place. She hasn’t left a text, phone call, or voicemail. Calum told himself he wouldn’t send her one either. It was a part of her game. But she didn’t even tell him that she had found someone new, someone she wanted to pretend to be serious with. Normally she did and that made Calum suspicious; it worried him. So after about three weeks, he caved. He sent one message, What happened?

He was met with silence. Three days worth. His fingers wanted to type more and they did. He drafted several paragraphs worth. How could she just drop him? How could she just walk away from him? What was he supposed to do now? Nothing replaced the feeling of her. He had tried that avenue before. What the hell was supposed to happen next?

More days passed and his bleeding heart paragraphs sat unaddressed. The smoking which had died down, increased again. Calum drank something most often too, not a lot, not enough to be fucked over the next morning. But he wanted to shut down the part of his brain that craved her. The silence of her was deafening, but the buzz of alcohol gave his brain something else to focus on for the moment. He’s since slowed on both those habits thanks to time and this album they’re working on. Ashton’s helped too. But Calum tries to keep himself occupied as much as possible. Doing any and everything he can, just so his brain can’t wonder.

The door chimes again. She sits along the wall to his left. He’s sitting so he can see directly back into the shop, directly across from the front desk. He has four rows of seat in his view. He can’t not see her. She plays at her phone. How can she act like this? The least she could do is say hi. The least she could is acknowledge his fucking existence as a human being.

His gut twists, in that all too familiar flip of desire. She’s still got him wrapped around her fucking fingers. Those beautiful, slender fingers. He remembers the way the feel dragging down his bare chest. He knows the pinch of her fingers around his nipples. With a deep exhale, the ghost of her touch skirts down his chest down to his groin. Fuck, no, no don’t start imagining this. It’s been four months since those text messages. Four; he cannot slip up now.

Pushing up from his chair, Calum walks to the bathroom. It’s thankful to Christ, that it’s close to his seat or that walk past her would be the end of his resolve. Splashing cold water onto his face, Calum grips the side of the sinks, staring at his reflection. He traces the line of a water droplet down from his forehead, around the curve of his eyes, over the bridge of his nose, and fall off the tip of his nose.

He’s never been too fond of the chub around his cheek, everyone else has squeezed and squished them. He’s over it. But he remembers the way she used to pat his left cheek. Always the left one. It wasn’t hard, wasn’t condescending. She’d cup the flesh, lifting her fingers before gently bring them back down. Her hand would slide down his flesh then, sometimes she’s give his chin a squeeze. Most times she scurried out of the door. Water drips from his chin and onto his sweatshirt. Thankfully it’s black so the wet spot won’t show too badly.

You cannot go back to her, Calum thinks to himself. You cannot go back. You cannot go back. She dropped you--she does not want you back. He drops his head. She doesn’t want him. She never did really. She was just using him. He thought he was just using her. He thought it was just sex. But god, his heart races even still just at the thought of her. His lungs ache occasionally to inhale her scent. She does not want him. He inhales. That’s okay. She doesn’t need to want him. He always envisioned him alone anyway. Calum dries his face and walks back out.

She’s up at the small desk where stale coffee is sat out. He knows because he had a cup. It’s not his usual, but he needed something-anything to keep him from going insane while staring at pristine gray painted walls and too brightly waxed white floors. He admits it makes sitting in a car shop nice that it’s so clean, but it always threw him off. The smell of motor oil and greasy towel mixed with the stale coffee and whatever wax they used for the floor always made his head spin upon his initial entrance.

Settled back into his seat, Calum flexes his fingers. He needs something to do, something to take his mind off her--how close she is, how good she looks. He did not miss the soft pink lipstick on her pouty lips. Fuck, those lips are so goddamn kissable too. Calum snatches the magazine next to him from the dark brown wooden table. He flips to a page and runs his eyes intently over the article on muscle cars. This means nothing to him, but he can’t keep thinking about her. She walks past him, shoes silent on the floors, the only thing that gives away any movement is her waft of perfume hitting Calum’s nostrils.

He expels every ounce of air in his lungs. Do not inhale. Do not inhale her in. Do not break. “Mr. Hood,” his mechanic calls out.

Calum snaps his head up from the magazine and tosses it back onto the table. Finally. He gives a tight lipped smile as he approaches the counter. “What’s the damage?” he asks with a soft chuckle.

“None. You’re in good shape. She still runs smoothly. You did need an oil change, so we took care of that for you.”

Calum nods. He can feel her stare burning holes into the back of his head. Calum digs out his wallet, sliding his card across the counter. Now she watches him, when he can’t see her gaze. Calum thanks the man once again for his work and places his wallet back into his pocket. As he turns, her head snaps back to the floor. He stares at her this time, lets her know that he knew she was watching. She won’t look up; she wouldn’t be so emboldened, he figures. It as his sneakers squeak right in front of the door that her gaze lifts. They lock eyes for two seconds. Neither one gives an ounce of recognition facially.. Just slow blinks between not even lover, but not quite strangers. His heart booms in his chest, he can feel the thumping on his veins in his neck

Calum steps through the door and keeps his shoulders square. His car is parked right outside the door. Thank God. His head is starting to feel disconnected from him. Are his lungs even working anymore? Another mechanic hands him the keys. Calum gives him a nod in thanks. As the engine turns over, even through the door and the window of his front shield, he can still feel her gaze. He looks at her one last time. She doesn’t give a nod, a smile, a wink--nothing. She just stares. Did she expect him to grovel at her feet like before? Did she expect him to apologize? What the hell did she want from him? He wouldn’t give it to her, but it would be nice to know for once what was going on in her head. What her thoughts were, what kept her up at night.

The air is still nice, so Calum rolls down the windows. Only when she sees the passenger side window rolling down does her face crack. She gives the faintest of smiles and start pushing up from the seat. Calum presses onto the gas and rolls down the pavement. He wasn’t giving in. But it makes him just a smidge happy to know that he might have toyed with her like she did to him. He can’t give into her. He’s doing alright by himself His body wants to cave. It’s been two months since he’s slept with anyone. Not the longest he’s gone. He hadn’t even thought about the last time until he saw her. Until he thought about the way she begged beneath him, face buried into the pillows, him pulling her arms back behind her, so her arch couldn’t falter.

No, his stomach flips again. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He doesn’t have a pack on him either. He stopped carrying one due to Ashton’s insistence. Now he needed some nicotine. Anything to take the edge off. There’s a gas station right next to the shop, but he doesn’t stop there. Calum drives through the streets; he’ll drive to a station a bit farther out. He’s still too close to her. Yeah, just keep driving. He winds through the streets, about twenty minutes longer than he anticipated. Settled in front of the station, he exhales. He blinks once and his vision clears for a second before it blurs. Tears. Fuck, he’s crying.

Resting his head against the steering wheel, he lets out a shaky breath. Does he even want a cigarette or does he want to burn away the parts of him that still hold onto her? Does he really want alcohol or does he wish to drown the memories of her? He reaches for his phone situated in the cup holder. Unlocking, he pulls up Ashton’s U.S. number. It rings once in his ear. Twice. A third time. Right before Calum pulls the phone away, he hears the call connect. “Need a ride?” Ashton asks.

“I don’t need a cigarette, right?” Calum hears the own distress in his voice. He can hear the strain as he tries to swallow a sob.

“Mate, what happened?”

“Just tell me I don’t need to walk into this gas station. I don’t need a cigarette. I don’t need a drink. I can’t even drive if I drink.”

“Calum, you don’t need a cigarette. You don’t need to go into that gas station. You don’t need a pack. You don’t need a drink either. Where are you?”

Calum sits up, pressing his freshly cut hair into the leather of his headrest. He doesn’t want the nicotine. He wipes at his cheeks. “Not even sure. I just started driving.”

“Wanna come over?”

He wants to be over her. He wants to know why she walked away without warning. He wants to know if this is love, because if so, he wants nothing to do with it ever again. He never wants to be this broken, this easy to crack ever again by one person. He wants nothing to do with this scam called love. “Thanks for the offer.”

Ashton knows it’s a no. But he presses on. “If you show up, I’ll have some movies waiting. Maybe grab a quick lunch. There’s a new sushi place. I’ve been eyeing for a while. Heard it’s good.”

Calum just wants a way to forget her. He wants a way out, he’s been trying to escape, run away. Maybe he needs a way through. Ashton’s offering that. Calum feels like Ashton should be telling him to just get over it, to forget her. He has to know why Calum called anyway. Ashton takes the silence as Calum’s resistance.

Ashton presses on again. “Or a hike. You said you wanted to take Duke up through the trails again. We probably won’t be able to go too far with him and the heat, but it’s something.”

He needs to walk away from her. He needs a way through. Calum exhales. “A hike sounds good.”

Ashton sighs in relief. Calum’s not going to say what triggered this. Though Ashton figures it something to do with her again. “I’ll meet you at your place then.”

“Okay,” Calum’s voice is soft a little rough with the tears that are choking him still. The call ends and Calum throws an arm over his face for a moment. His phone chimes from the cup holder. He thinks it’s Ashton texting and doesn’t lift a finger. It chimes again, then a third time. A call. Looking down her number lights up his screen. Now she can call. Now she can remember he fucking exists.

Calum wonders if her latest boy toy dropped her. He wonders why she has the nerve to call him now, but not speak to him thirty minutes ago. He doesn’t answer. He watches the call ring and ring and ring before it finally stops. He waits, barely breathing. She’ll call again. She always does. He waits, staring at his black screen. A notification pops up. New Voicemail. Voicemail? She’s never left a message. Calum stares his phone. What did she say? Was it an apology? Biting his lip, he unlocks it and another notification comes in. This one is from Ashton.

I’ll be to your place in another 20 minutes. Had to run and take care of some errands first.

His hike. Duke needs to be let out. Calum drops his phone back into the cup holder. His little man. That’s what he focuses on. Duke is waiting for him. The drive back home is strangely quiet besides the sounds of wind rushing and cars zooming past. Calum normally puts on the radio, even if it’s down low. But now right now he’s afraid songs will remind him of her. It’s not like the drive isn’t already doing that, but he can drown out those thoughts. He can listen to the whirring of tires over asphalt. He can think about Duke. He can listen to his mind’s replay of Duke’s whines this morning, needing to go out to the backyard.

Calum can think about what he needs to grab for his hike. He’ll need to bring water. Bags just in case Duke has to go while they’re out. Maybe a couple protein bars. He needs to change shoes. His vans won’t cut it for the walk. He’ll have to put Duke in his harness. Calum needs to remember the dog treats too. As Calum pulls into his driveway, he spots Ashton already parked to the side.

Ashton climbs out of his car after seeing Calum park. “Took you long enough,” he jokes, watching closely. He’s watching to see if Calum grabs anything else. He doesn’t see anything but his phone and keys.

“Sorry about that. It should only take me a few to get ready.” The two men shuffle into the house. Ashton notes the slight puffiness to Calum’s eyes and cheeks. The slight pink tint to his nose, the fading pink to his eyes. Duke happily greets Calum at the door, jumping onto the man’s calves. “Hey, sorry that took longer than anticipated, bud.”

He moves to greet Ashton next. Calum walks to the backyard, finding his workout shoes next to the hall closet. As Duke rushes to his corner, Calum switches shoes. “Wanna talk about it?” Ashton asks, settling down on the ledge the back porch and the inside of the house. He watches Calum, squinting at the sun.

Calum shakes his head, cleaning up after Duke. Back inside, Calum fills his two biggest water bottles, throws in some protein bars, and finds Duke’s leash. It hits him as he clips on the harness he still needs the bags, treat, and his portable bowl. Spinning around he spies, Ashton placing the portable bowl into his backpack. “Thanks, mate.”

Ashton nods. “I put treats inside too. Some bags were already inside. Not sure if they’re enough.”

Calum wishes he had more words than thank you. But all he can do is nod and take the backpack. Back outside, Calum locks up. Ashton drives. Calum can feel his phone burning a hole in his pocket. But Duke’s resting in his lap. He can’t reach for it now. It’ll have to wait. It will have to continue to light his skin with a fire. He hopes it burns him, so it proves how much she hurt him. How much pain she’s put them through. It’s so much easier to treat a wound when it’s physical.

As they past the cities and head for the mountains, Duke pops up from his curled position, front paws resting on the door, hind legs stretched as far as his tiny body can go. Calum smiles, scratching at his head. “Yeah, bud, we’re going to the mountains again.”

“You didn’t buy a pack, right?” Ashton asks after a minute or two of silence.

“I didn’t.”

“You’ve been doing good. I’m proud.”

“Thanks,” Calum whispers. He knows the compliment is genuine, but he feels terrible for almost breaking it today. He feels like shit for breaking this far down that he considered a drink. Cigarettes are one thing, but a drink. The drinking is scaring him.

The rest of the ride is quiet, Calum’s chest starts to hurt. He keeps thinking about that voicemail. What the hell could she have possibly had to say to him? Why did he care so fucking much? He’s going to burst inside his car. They pull up to the foot of the trail and Calum opens the door before Ashton fully brakes. All the air pushes out of his lungs. He heaves, tears biting at his eyes. Ashton hurriedly brakes and climbs out. Calum clutches Duke to his chest for a second.

“Calum, what’s happening?”

Inhaling deeply, Calum squats down next to the car. Duke turns in his hold, licking at Calum’s cheek. “I saw her today,” he huffs, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I fucking saw her. And I swear to God, I thought I was over her. I thought I had walked away, but all I had done was hide from her.”

“It’s okay.” He places a sturdy and firm grip on Calum’s shoulder. “You’ll find a way through this. It’s okay to hurt. It fucking sucks. But it’s okay.”

“She called. Left a voicemail. I haven’t listened to it.”

“Do you want to?”

Calum swallows, still heaving for a good breathe. “I have no idea.”

“Let’s walk. Walk and we’ll figure it out. Talk to me, mate. I know it’s not your cup of tea. But for fuck sake, I am right here.”

Calum nods, running his hand over Duke’s head. Ashton helps him up and Duke stares up from the ground to Calum. “I’m sorry, I’m okay,” Cal reassures the dog. But Duke knows something is very wrong. He walks over and settles right on top of Calum’s foot, fur brushing softly over his calf. Calum finds a treat for Duke. He holds it for a moment before Duke moves to take it. “Thanks for caring, love,” Calum says softly.

The three start up the trails. They’re about a fourth way up before the silence is broken. Calum continues to stare up at the windy and rocky path in front of them. The trees waft off their scent in the breeze. Duke sniffs everything, so they have to move a little slow. “I texted twice,” he states.

“Today?”

“No, when she first disappeared. She didn’t respond and I didn’t text again. I just wanted to forget her. So I dodged all the places I knew she’d be.”

Ashton hums though it turns up into a grunt as he lifts his weight up to stand on a rock. He holds his arms out to steady himself. He watches the way Calum gazes at him. Part in concern, partly still lost in his own world. “And you tried to bury her, you didn’t try to get through it,” Ashton continues. Calum nods. “The question remains. Do you want to actually walk away from her? Do you really want to be done with her?”

Calum slides off his bag and pours some water for Duke. The small dog happily laps at the cool drink. Calum settles onto a small rock. It’s scratchy and a little sharp against his skin. “I don’t think I can answer answer that until I figure out what’s on that voicemail. But I can’t listen to it. I can’t hear her voice right now. I’ll crack. She might as well cut my heart out, just split me open and stolen the fucking organ because clearly my brain’s not winning this battle.”

Ashton jumps down from the rock and holds out his hand. “How about I give it a listen and relay the important stuff to you?”

Before the question can fully leave Ashton’s lip, Calum digs in his pocket for phone. By the time Ash finishes, he’s holding Calum’s unlocked phone. It’s killing Calum not to know what’s happening, but he can’t listen to it himself. Ashton taps the only voicemail not viewed and holds the phone to his ear.

“It was nice to see you today, Calum,” her voice starts in Ashton’s ear. Her pitch purposefully low, he notes as he turns around. He doesn’t want to give anything way. “It was rude of me not to say hi. But even ruder that you took off without at least waving goodbye. Let me make it up to you being so ill-mannered this last few weeks. You know the time and place.”

The voicemail ends and Ashton turns back around, but not before deleting the message. “She basically wants to apologize for being an ass by having you fuck her again. She’s no good for you.”

Calum drops his head, taking the phone. “And I’m no good at letting go.”

“I deleted the message. Walk away, Calum. She’s only going to drag you down. Even more than she already has.”

Calum knows Ashton is right. Duke settles down in front of Calum. “Should I walk away, bud? Should I cut ties with some ounce of dignity?”

Duke pants up at him. The little dog is just happy to be outside. Calum scratches at his fur. “If you love this, then I gotta take you to the midwest. You’ll love it there. Or even Oregon or Washington. Nothing but trees and nature trails.”

That’s what he’ll do. He’ll plan a mini getaway, maybe it’s just a weekend. He can write, he can get away from her, he can get her out of his system. That’s the problem. She’s still in his system. When he walks into the studio, when he journals at night, he tries so hard to forget her. He tries so hard to pretend like she didn’t hurt him that it only hurts him more. You can’t forget a person if they’re all you’re thinking about.

Calum never really mattered to her anyway. He was only a fuck. He was only a toy that would always be there when her newest one broke. He finds the missed call, clicks on the tiny i icon and then scrolls to the bottom. Block this Caller stares back up at him. He taps it, no shaking this time. It pops up again, Block Contact or Cancel. Calum presses Block Contact with an exhale. She won’t give up. Not even if he starts ignoring her. But this is a start, he can start working though all the shit she did.

“Ready to head back?” Ashton questions.

Calum collects his things, shaking his head. “Let’s go to the top. Little man here deserves the sight.”

With a soft smile, Ashton starts up to the top. Their pace is still slow due to Duke’s exploration. Halfway up up they stop again, and Calum slips Duke into his arms. “I should've bought a second bag and let you just sit in it,” Calum teases at Duke. Ashton offers his bag, they could consolidate all into Calum’s, put Duke in Ashton’s bag, or vice versa.

“He’ll sit for all of like three minutes before wanting out.”

It’s sometime later maybe an hour or so, Calum’s lost track of how long, when they reach the top. The sun’s just starting to dip down. They settle in a small spot off to the side and Calum sits with Duke between his legs, staring out at the blue ocean of the sky in front of him. Part of him wants to dive into it, wash himself of her, wash himself of the heartache. But it’s not that easy. He wishes he had heard what she said exactly just so he had the satisfaction of saying no to her directly. Not through word of a friend, not through someone else’s interpretation. But at least he knows now that she wouldn’t ever care. He could pretend when he had no clue before. He could pretend that she was just busy. He could pretend and make all the excuses he wanted.

But not now. Now he knew. It hurt. It fucking hurt. Getting through this wouldn’t be flicking off a switch. It would be pain and tears and time. But maybe he could walk here, he could sit here and watch out over the sky and think about the heavens washing over him. He could think about a hand reaching down from through the clouds and comfortable. He could get through it. He could walk away here to the heavens.

#calum hood #calum hood imagine #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood blurb #calum hood 5sos #calum 5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos imagine #5sos #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer imagine #h writes #ashton irwin #luke hemmings #michael clifford

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skzluvs · 4 years

Text

Wish you were gay; Hwang Hyunjin

Genre: Pure Fluff! Little bit of Angst

Warnings: None

Word count: 1.5 K

A/N: This is just a small filler since I’m currently working on a Felix Au! but I hope you guys really like it.

“Oh Hwang Hyunjin how much I wish you were gay

Your lack of interest it's been killing me inside

And I can’t stand another day with A growing pain inside my chest

You are cold hearted

Always living up to your title "Ice prince"

I'm the only one who knows you aren't as ruthless as you pretend to be

I have the ability to see right through your persona

But you continuously keep on pushing me away

Despite all of your attempts to avoid my feelings

I'm still here trying to make you understand that my love for you is genuine

Only if one day you were able to see that I'm here

That I've been trying to make you feel okay

As you seem to ignore all of my efforts

I wish you were gay so I could feel less miserable at your indifference”

Who’s not yours but dreams to be sincerely Y/N.

You walked through the corridor holding the little pink notebook which held the unaddressed letters as you were never able to deliver them. They were meant to say all of those unwanted thoughts that lately became loud in your head. You wondered if one day you were going to be able to say all those things to Hyunjin face to face.

Impossible, you thought as you shoved the book into your matching pastel pink backpack. You took a seat at the back of the classroom. Because you knew he liked to seat there. Where he couldn’t be bothered by the rest of the students.

You waited impatiently for his entrance. As usual he will be early because he hated the unnecessary attention. Nonetheless he already got enough for being the most popular student on the whole school.

You tapped your pencil into the desk in exasperation as you heard steps coming your way. You bit your lip trying to suppress the smile that was slowly creeping into your face. There he was wearing a simple white hoodie along with his denim jeans. Casual but still dazzling.

And the truth is that Hwang Hyunjin would make anything look good.

- Hyun...”- you tried to call him but as he walked passed you he didn’t even spared to look your way and continued his tracks to his own seat.

Your smile suddenly became a frown. It was not a novelty that you were being ignored by him but it still hurts to be treated so cruelly.

The bell rang announcing the end of the period

You tried to gather your things slowly as people ran their ways to the door excited for Lunch time. You didn’t mind staying a little longer to be alone with Hyunjin you knew how much he avoided crowds specially the ones involving frenetic students forming during lunch.

When the classroom was empty he stood up from his desk and walked with his hand on his front pockets. Always giving off that cool unapproachable vibe.

You were always mesmerized by his beauty but what attracted you was simply that stubbornness he tried so hard to maintain.

You didn’t tried to hold a conversation with him this time because you weren’t ready to be rejected twice in the span of an hour. Therefore you let him go as you watch him from behind.

After you have gotten your lunch you sat down in one of the tables that were outside the lunchroom. were everything seemed more quiet and reserved just like hyunjin liked. You knew his usual spot was just a few tables away from yours near the big blossom tree.

Pulling out your notebook you wrote

“You are colder than the winter but with a gaze that can melt

Open your heart to me and I’ll never let it freeze

Let me be the sunshine that warms your feelings up when it’s under 0 degrees”

And there he was eating his food in such a tranquil way that it even made you feel contented at the peaceful sight. Some girls approached him breaking the harmonious atmosphere.

You observed carefully as he send them death stares from disturbing him but they didn’t seemed to care as they sat down trying to caught his attention. You knew hyunjin couldn’t stand people following him and trying to talk to him just because of his popularity. So you thought about helping him even if he treated you as harshly as he treated the rest.

You made your way to the table. The girls were obnoxiously giggling and hyunjin kept on looking uncomfortably at the cold food that rested on his plate.

He was more of ignoring them than actually telling people off he acted heartless but he definitely wasn’t rude.

“Hey Ladies aren’t you supposed to have somewhere else to be” you said clearing your throat to make yourself noticed.

“Y/N don’t you have books to read go back to dreamland and mind your own business” The leader spoke, looking at you in disbelief.

Your knees shakes a little what were you doing standing up for the boy who didn’t even acknowledge your existence. It seemed stupid but you were surely not going to regret this.

“Books actually increase your intellect you should try reading some one of these days I mean there’s still lots of space in that empty head of yours” You backfired with confidence.

“ Are you trying to pick up a fight with me” she said defying me.

“certainly not, but hyunjin and I have things to discuss so I’m politely asking you all to leave”

“Hyunjin doesn’t have time to waste on someone like you Y/N stop saying nonsense and get lost”

“ Well it seems like he doesn’t want any of you here since you basically invited yourselves he’s just nice enough to not tell you that you are bothersome but I am not that nice so why don’t you go and trouble someone else’s lunch time” You smile sarcastically at them and they walked off not before telling Hyunjin they’ll talk later.

After they left silence filled out the whole entire ambience. You were about to speak but he turned his head looking the other way with his cold face. You weren’t expecting a thank you or anything but it seemed like your presence wasn’t too pleasant for hyunjin either.

knowing you were never going to be able to reach someone so highly illustrious as him you lowered your head. Thinking how stupid was for you to keep on trying you seemed like a push over that’s probably what he thinks of you YN- you said as a whisper before you pulled your bag from the table and threw it on your shoulder walking off with nothing but shame.

Back in the classroom you were writing math notes when a sudden thought came across your mind.

Today you had been ignored multiple times and you needed you pour all those sad thoughts into your confident. Scanning your bag the pink covered book was nowhere to be found and desperation was all you could feel.

You excused yourself from the classroom as you tried to search for that such important diary everywhere. At the lunchroom, at the tables, at the restroom, the hallways, your own locker everywhere.

You were about to go insane those pages held more than your immense admiration for hyunjin it held the pain of an unrequited love. If someone was to read your letters you were screwed.

What if the girls stole it and they tell hyunjin what if you become the biggest joke of the school and everyone laughs at how pathetic you truly are.

You were terrified to say the least you ran to the cherry blossom tree and slide yourself holding your knees as the tears started to fall off your face.

You felt a slight tap on your shoulder as you were Uncontrollably sobbing. You tried wiping your tears away trying to focus on the person in front of you with blurry vision you were still able to recognize his beautiful face.

“Y/N don’t cry” He said offering you a tissue.

He knew your name you were in a state of shock.

He always pretended not to see you what was he doing now.

When you calmed down a little he offered you a hand so you could stand up.

“Do you really wish I was gay?” he asked confused hiding a big authentic smile.

“What?” you asked even more confused than him until your brain clicked.

He knew

You went speechless your mouth went dry and all You wanted was crying again and hide forever the embarrassment of your worst nightmare.

“How-... I-” you said stumbling down your own words

He lifted a pastel pink covered book that he has been hiding all this time behind his back.

God you wanted to deny it all but you were into deep now. He had all the proof in his own hands.

“I don’t really think you meant it tho” he said getting closer to your face.

“You don’t really wish I was gay because if I was I wouldn’t be able to kiss you” He said almost brushing your pink lips with his own plump ones.

You closed your eyes hoping to close the proximity between them but they felt empty as he rapidly ran from you smiling

“You can kiss me if you can catch me” he said teasing me while holding the book.

I ran behind him giggling at his childish attitude.

For the first time You got to experience the real Hyunjin and You certainly couldn’t be more in love with him.

#stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids blurbs #stray kids angst #stray kids scenarios #stray kids school au #stray kids au #hwang hyunjin #lee minho #han jisung #bang chan #lee felix #seo changbin #kim seungmin #kim woojin #yang jeongin #kpop #wish you were gay #billie eilish

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desroundtree · 4 years

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Come On Get Happy

Living through a pandemic in the middle of the summer is a very strange feeling. Summer in NYC is like nothing else, and you can feel the itch of NYers just wanting to feel one day where things are just things.

I was never really a summer person, it's something I share in common with my grandfather. We both hated the heat and when I was a kid, we would always walk on the shaded side of the street. I have grown to like it more as I have gotten older, especially if I can find quick relief from the heat in the form of polar ice cap level air conditioning and fans. You can pretty much describe me as a polar bear that wants a tan.

I am watching life go on all around me and all I want to do is all the things I have never ever craved to do - like go to the beach, ride the Cyclone (ouch), eat at a restaurant without paranoia creating anxiety about everyone and everything. I want to not feel like everything is muted around the edges, or the opposite - glaringly loud and apparent. It has been very hard for me to wrap my head around life and people, just moving on. I think it has to be their way of coping with the things that have happened, the loss, the sadness. But they don't seem sad, then I realize - I don't seem sad sometimes, either.

I try to narrow down some of the reasons why I feel this way - maybe it is the stress of having stayed in NYC during the worst of it, and knowing we could easily be back where we were in March and April. Each day we still have an insane amount of NYers diagnosed, though they are not dying - COVID is spreading very easily through this city and it seems as if the precautions we are expected to take are just such an inconvenience to some. Doing it in the summer is even more of a perceived inconvenience. The heat and humidity don't make it easy to wear a mask but sometimes life is not easy. In March and all throughout the Spring, life was not easy. So it's time to get over this notion of anything, especially life, being easy. This also feels like wear and tear on your mental health, with the constant fear of possibly catching the virus and then spreading front and center in the minds of those that care.

I was talking with my best friend and everything is so vague it's impossible to feel as though you are doing everything you can to keep yourself, and in turn, your family, safe. You start to think about things you never had to before, distance, staying away, time between occupants in a room, what happens if you hear someone sneeze. The concept is maddening to some, and I understand that too. A part of us will always want to engage, to interact, to have friends and lives - at least some of us. We strive to get happy and stay that way. It's sort of ingrained in our culture. Happiness is something we all want to have, measured in different degrees, with millions of different opinions on what any of it really means. We are so busy trying to be what society expects that it's often forgotten that everyone is pretty much ok just the way they are. And if that means someone isn't happy all the time, then that should be ok too.

I think about what would make me happy right now - a lot. What would make you feel content? What would make you feel semi-normal, even in the most abnormally emotional time?

And the answers are always different - sometimes days are more serious than others. A soft serve ice cream cone would do my soul wonders, a walk in the sand with the water running on my feet, a night out with friends, or traveling to see friends who are two hours away yet lately it feels like light years. Seeing my nieces and nephews, or meeting my sister for drinks. I had reservations for dinner on March 14th that I cancelled earlier that week, I wish I could have that dinner and that none of anything that followed that night happened to me, or this City. I wish that often because that would make me happy. I wish my child felt safe to return to school and to take mass transit or to leave the house. I wish I could run through the sprinkler at the park or pet dogs that pass me when I am sitting on my stoop. I wish hard and I wish often.

But these are the good things that existed before March 13th, and I know and understand there is no way to go back to what we once were and there is no reason too. This has changed us so much that we understand the plans laid before us, and how that very plan isn't good enough but it was/is the only one they have. We now understand how that plan was created to fail us, and a new plan is on the rise. Sometimes we feel as if our communities are faced with no choice again and no real options for help from those that need us to stimulate and grow this virus stricken economy. With no childcare and many people returning to work in the vaguest of circumstances, schools are reopening in another environment that is less than healthy, impossible to control and flat out irresponsible.

At this point,it often feels as though the effort to get happy outweighs the amount of work it takes. There are too many things happening, too many circumstances that feel unaddressed, too much unrest, too much of everything for just about anything to feel as if there is reason to be happy. It's a hard road for me lately, and there is no shame in admitting that. I asked for help when I felt I needed it and will always accept any help that is given. I have learned that it is not weak or shameful to accept help, love, or admiration. Hard lesson to learn but the pandemic forced me to count on my husband to be in the outside world. Being immunocompromised was and is very hard in this climate but I have gotten better with it, trying to make sure I get outside a little bit everyday, even if it is to walk in a circle of this neighborhood or sit on my front steps.

You'd be surprised what hard concrete under your ass can do for your meditation practice.

I guess I want to say, the rush to happiness shouldn't be that. It takes time for some of us to reach what others deem as happy, but we have to understand that it is a very personal journey. What others think is for you is fine, but your happiness belongs to you and you have to feel like it is yours for the taking. Even if that happiness isn't always grand or at full capacity, you know what you are, and that should and will always be enough.

Someone else's happy may not be what happiness looks like to you. It's perception, and we all need to have our own perceptions about what happiness means, is, and what it should be in the future.

#Get Happy #Stay Happy #Be Happy #COVID19 #Pandemic #Love #Friendships #Relationships #Mental Health #Summer #Summer in NYC #Happiness #NYC #Brooklyn

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guadnahd · 4 years

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Allen & Pentheus ; Quiz Edition

So, as I said in a previous post, I took a quiz that would determine which character from Greek tragedy most accurately aligns with my character. This post is going to analyze the quiz result alone, not the character as he is represented in the Bacchae. That will happen in another post.

The result I got from the quiz is as follows:

I thought this result was extremely interesting. As far as Allen’s characterization goes, this is insanely accurate for... you know, a quiz on the internet. I’m going to dissect this a line at a time, explaining in detail why I think each point fits in some capacity.

you are pentheus from the bacchae by euripides, and you hold yourself so tightly wound together and so perfectly in place that even the slightest push will make you shatter.

Allen’s neuroticism is a direct result of personal tragedy. He does, indeed, hold himself tightly wound. His existence is so fragile, any disturbance of that balance could spell ruin for him. He has a routine that he likes to stick to - a thoughtless and fluid routine that allows him to turn his brain off for all except music, food and sleep.

He runs away from his traumas and fears. With those unaddressed, being forced to confront them in any capacity could prove disastrous and unsettling. He recently started therapy. Since his first session, his nightmares have gotten worse and he has been losing sleep.

Being that he is autistic, he sometimes has trouble with huge disturbances in his routine. He has plenty of coping strategies to aid him in staving off the worst of it, but sometimes life pulls him so deep under the current that it drowns him.

you are determined, you are headstrong, and you are addicted to pushing yourself to your farthest limits just to see when you'll snap.

For Allen, his music is an escape. He frequently dissociates while playing and can get sucked into an hours-long spiral where he cannot stop. If he wants to accomplish something with a piece or new composition, he will play until he physically cannot play anymore. He becomes... possessed. Figuratively and literally.

Y’know, ‘cause he’s possessed.

Anyway, once he has his mind made up about something there isn’t much anyone can do to deter him. He tends to have interests that revolve around his extreme need to push himself to his limits. His favorite composer is notorious for having insanely difficult technical pieces in his repertoire. He enjoys mountain biking and other dangerous and adrenaline-inducing outdoor activities. He exposes himself to old traumas just to see if he’s able to handle it. He is constantly playing chicken with his psyche.

It’s not often that he’ll stop doing this just because someone has told him to. He will, at best, stop for a moment. Then, once everyone’s backs are turned, he’ll do it all over again.

you find comfort in tradition, order, and authority, because that's where you are allowed to be blind to the darkness inside you.

Allen has a love-hate relationship with authority. He hates deferring to people in positions of power when it doesn’t suit him. However, when he does want to turn his brain off, he is more than happy to let a more skilled or wise individual take the reigns. He values any opportunity to not have to think very hard about anything.

He is very neat and tidy. He keeps a tight and efficient schedule. He loves to keep his life in order, even when his mind is a mess. Again, this doesn’t leave much room for thinking since he’s too preoccupied with his physical surroundings and the schedule that dominates his life.

I have not given much thought to tradition, as there is a ton of research I have to do for him. Generally, though, I would say tradition is also a large part of his life. He was raised Catholic (for the most part) and he has a fierce love for Bavaria. Since he travels so often, he likes to keep up the traditions of his homeland - if only because he would... otherwise lose his sense of self. It’s also something else to focus on instead of his actual self. It is very easy to dissociate and depersonalize in a comfortable manner when you have external traditions to fill in the resulting personality gaps.

once in a while, give into the temptation and the chaos you keep denying yourself. it's the only way to not be afraid anymore.

I don’t think I really need to speak to this too much, but eh I’ll bite.

To put it in vague terms, I don’t think she should be as afraid of his literal inner demons as he thinks he should be. :)

#lore.#THIS IS A LONG POST BUT I DID IT #after i read the bacchae i'll come back with a retrospective on this post lmao

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kiruuuuu · 5 years

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Siege The Valentines 2019 Day 1

Blitz/Rook oneshot in which Rook would like to have sex and Blitz doesn’t. So they compromise and have sex. (Rating E, fluff/humour, explicit smut, some exhibitionism and semi-public sex, ~8.5k words)

Thank you so much to everyone at @dualrainbow for organising this event!! I’m thrilled to participate and look forward to everyone’s contributions :) Please follow @dualrainbow so you don’t miss a day and let writers know if you enjoyed their story! 💕

“You should’ve seen me, I drop kicked one of them down the stairs and actually made him do a flip, a bloody flip, I bet none of you have ever seen anyone do that, it was brilliant! Much cooler than the way I made five of them curse like all hell when I set off one of my babes, and that was already -”

“I think my favourite moment of yours was when you were currently telling me about how much you needed a piss, so much that you considered just dipping out for a second to do it in the middle of a mission and one of the blokes burst into the room. You shrieked like a child, my ears are still ringing.”

Smoke shoots Mute a glare when the younger Brit’s comment earns more laughs than his dramatic exaggeration of the events transpired earlier, but an arm casually slung around his waist placates him instantly. Blitz can only imagine how he feels in his lover’s half-embrace, pressed against a warm body and so obviously claimed in front of everyone – he’d bet it’s nice, has felt a similar sensation before, confidence and affection settling low in his stomach and weighing him down in a good way. A quick glance over to a certain Frenchman assures him that Rook is following a similar tale as well, eyes bright and mouth stretched into a rapt grin while he listens to Maestro. He’s almost cute like this, enthusiastically poses additional questions to allow the Italian to flesh out the story, and Blitz knows what it feels like to have all his attention.

Okay, he’s understating. Rook is adorable. If he could, he’d hug him right now and kiss the tip of his nose. Maybe tell him how happy his entire existence makes him.

“You’re the one babe I never have to set off, you do that all by yourself”, Smoke is grumbling now after Mute once more rained on his boisterous parade, prompting his boyfriend to laugh and his hold to tighten.

They’re loitering outside their hotel – since drinking alcohol in the lobby isn’t permitted, they’ve gathered here to share their post-mission hyperactivity. Their group must make for an intimidating picture, around twenty well-built men and women congregating, sharing cans of beer and raucous laughter, but as long as nobody chases them away, they’ll stay. There’s no alternative really: they’d go insane in their individual rooms, with some of them probably taking apart the furniture due to cabin fever, and going out isn’t preferred either. Because rarely anyone would understand the rush of having saved lives, and they want to ride the high for just a little longer. It won’t be long until exhaustion sets in.

Blitz can feel the tension slowly leaving his muscles but instead of rendering him immobile, it makes him giddy. He barely resisted the urge to join Finka in her spontaneously made up drinking game of having to take a sip whenever any of them curses in their mother tongue (and by now, she and various others are very tipsy) and it’s getting more and more difficult to not just run, tackle someone for a friendly wrestling match or try to scale a building – though the glass façade of their hotel would make this last one impossible without the proper equipment.

“Have I ever told you that you’re fucking awesome at your job?”, Ying addresses Hibana with a reverent expression which speaks not only of her admiration for the other woman but also of the fact that she’s by far the worst of them in holding her liquor.

“Only six times today”, the Japanese woman replies with a both flattered and amused grin. “You’re talking about me saving your life again earlier? It’s becoming a running joke at this point.”

Ying puffs herself up in front of her, almost like a small bird trying to seem more intimidating and stabs her in the collarbone with a finger to emphasise every word coming out of her mouth. “I. Love. Your. Controlled. Explosions.”

“Sounds like she’s setting off a controlled explosion in your panties”, Ash butts in drily and amid the chortles and chuckling, Blitz’ eyes meet Rook’s.

It’s a relatively mild night for the season but even the beers he had don’t really explain the sudden rush of heat overcoming him. Not for the first time does he realise just how gorgeous the other man really is with his dark curls and bright blue eyes, his physique oddly attractive even to someone who preferred softer curves all his life. It probably has to do with almost dying – death puts a lot of things into perspective. Cheeks hot, he offers a warm smile and nearly crushes the can in his hand when it’s reciprocated, so pleased is he, before averting his eyes again. He feels like an open book but would prefer for no one to read him right now.

Maybe he should drink some water to clear his mind a little, guide his restless state towards something more productive. He’s got some bottled water in his hotel room, so he excuses himself from no one in particular as everyone is currently cheering on either Ash or Hibana in their battle of wits while Ying seems a tad confused with the entirety of the universe.

The moon is mirrored in the spottily illuminated glass front of the building and Blitz is so mesmerised by it that he only notices he’s gained a companion when he enters the lobby and Rook slips in with him.

“What are you doing?”, the young man wants to know cheerfully and seems barely capable of containing his excess energy.

“Getting some water. I hate travelling with a hangover and we’re leaving tomorrow.”

“I’ll come with!” The announcement is followed by Rook dancing alongside him, basically running laps around him and bouncing in place as they wait for the elevator. More than ever he reminds Blitz of a puppy. “Did you hear what Maestro said? Apparently Lesion lost the bet with James and now he has to get an undercut, can you imagine how silly he’s going to look, probably almost as bad as the time Gus had to -”

His chatter lulls Blitz in who’s more than happy to let Rook do the talking and simply indulge him, but he was not at all prepared for the tongue which pries his lips open and shoves its way into his mouth as soon as the elevator doors close behind them. He makes a surprised noise and stumbles back yet Rook merely follows him, presses their bodies together and continues ravishing him. Having no other choice, Blitz succumbs and kisses back tentatively, smiling at the desperate sound he earns in return and putting his arms around his lover.

Rook is a needy disaster whenever he feels he’s been neglected for too long and so it’s no surprise when he mumbles: “I haven’t kissed you all day.” His pout is audible but at least he detaches when they arrive on Blitz’ floor, trailing after him with a whine.

“Well, we had a few situations to de-escalate”, Blitz reminds him gently while unlocking his door. “If you want, we can cuddle a bit before going to bed, but you’re sleeping in your own room.” Rook perks up at this and were he really a dog, he’d probably wag his tail at Mach 3 right now. As expected. “That’s not a euphemism. I’ll be too tired for anything else.”

And here comes the ear droop – also as expected. “But -”

He feels bad. He really does, he hates disappointing people and disappointing Rook even more and he’d be lying if he claimed the quick and dirty kiss in the elevator had no effect on him, but… there’s other issues. Unaddressed ones, entirely his own fault, he knows this, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to raise the topic yet. “Come on in and we can make out for now”, he suggests instead and Rook is immediately full of life again.

The room itself is remarkably pleasant even if cramped, the carpet fluffy, the bed just the right kind of hard and the floor to ceiling windows a nice touch. Blitz turns the light on, gives Rook a peck on the lips to appease him for the moment and draws the heavy curtains closed before rummaging around in his backpack for his sparkling water. Rustling behind him causes him to turn around curiously and he’s faced with -

“Julien!”

Rook pauses uncertainly, blinking at him like someone who got caught doing something forbidden yet not sure what exactly. He’s half way in taking off his shirt while his trousers are unbuttoned already, his shoes kicked off to the side and his toes trying to find purchase on the hem of his trouser leg so he can pull it off as well. If his intent hadn’t been crystal clear, he’d look comical. “Is this not what we’re doing?”, he wants to know, sheepish, and once more reminds Blitz of a dog – only this time a mindlessly horny one.

“Making out also wasn’t a euphemism”, he stresses firmly and he knows this look all too well, has received it several times after dates and in the morning and even at work but … he can’t. He can’t give in, no matter how much it pains him to turn down these wide, dejected eyes.

“It’s been so lonnng”, Rook whines and shuffles over to him, listlessly throwing his arms around Blitz and crowding him against the nearest wall. A quick look confirms that yes, there’s no gap in the curtains meaning none of their colleagues still outside can see them, so Blitz relaxes and pulls his boyfriend close to him, finally enjoying a hug that, while being slightly uncomfortable due to the arms digging into his back, feels utterly wonderful. “And you’re always so handsome, it’s not fair. Your helmet hair is cute and when you’re being modest it’s adorable and you know I love it when you drink out of a can wrong.”

The ticklish words grumbled against the exposed skin on the side of his neck make him laugh softly and card his hand through Rook’s silky hair. “You know there’s no wrong way to drink out of a can?”

“There is. And you’ve perfected it just to taunt me. Have I told you that these jeans make your ass look amazing?”

It’s good that Rook can’t see his reddening face – Blitz is weak to heartfelt compliments and he knows he can take Rook’s seriously. “You’re really pent up at this point, hm?” Another pleading whine is enough of an answer. “I can just… take care of you, how about that?”

To his genuine astonishment, Rook declines. “I want to make you feel good too, mon cœur, or else it’s no fun.” He does belatedly accept the offer of making out, however, simply presses their lips together and purrs against Blitz’ mouth. He gives in without hesitation, always does so when they’re alone, whether it’s early in the morning, amidst frantic preparations to go to work, during a film they’re watching or as a prolonged good night kiss. Rook thoroughly enjoys kissing in all circumstances and is slowly winning Blitz over as well, not only with his eagerness but also because he’s excellent at it.

Rook does the thing which always makes his toes curl and he can feel himself melting into the devoted ministrations speaking of an affection he reciprocates wholeheartedly. He’s gotten worryingly attached to this man in a relatively short amount of time, willingly allowed him into his life and doesn’t even object to spending most of their nights together – but there are still some obstacles in the way, moments during which one of them is left staring blankly or unsure of what to say, awkward situations and slight hurt, often mutual. All in all it’s considerably less rocky than most of Blitz’ previous relationships or attempts thereof, and still he’s painfully aware it’s far from perfect. He doesn’t mind though, they’re both putting in the effort to make it work and it shows.

The beer he drank is only a very small part of the reason why Blitz enthusiastically toys with Rook’s tongue as soon as it becomes available: he’s missed this too. Letting himself go isn’t something he’s done often but Rook coaxes him out of his shell with loving touches, understanding reassurances and very uncharacteristic patience every time. The longer they kiss, the steamier it gets, and he really should’ve seen this coming. Rook has… a remarkable libido, as he’s come to realise, and it’s much too easy to allow him to take the lead, especially since he always ensures Blitz gets whatever his heart (or rather his crotch) desires, and why has Blitz been this reluctant again?

He’s drawing a blank now, the wet sounds of their sloppy making out just as distracting as the way Rook subtly grinds against him, full of hope and need. The Frenchman is groaning into Blitz’ mouth, running his tongue over his teeth and simultaneously massaging his ass, always moving, almost writhing against him while he systematically takes apart all of Blitz’ composure. It’s only a kiss, yes, but what a kiss it is – dizzying, with no opportunity to breathe freely, a merciless onslaught of sensation and Blitz feels like he’s seventeen again, snogging his crush for the very first time. His knees are getting weak, his eyelids heavy enough so he never wants to lift them again, and more and more of his focus wanders to his lower half, this one place where he’d like to feel all of Rook, preferably right now.

They’re not even undressed. Rook hasn’t even said anything, and Blitz already is as flustered as if he had three fingers inside and it really has been a while, hasn’t it? It’s not his lack of desire for his boyfriend which held him back, not at all, if anything he’s been exceedingly tense and trying not to keep glancing at Rook whenever he was working out or smiling or having unruly hair or really just there, and this definitely isn’t helping. He’s thinking about it now, Rook over, under, behind, inside him, and he loves it all.

Rook knows what he’s doing, knows how susceptible Blitz is to his kisses and so he’s made use of them as a distraction to sneak his hands under Blitz’ shirt, running them over heated skin as he slowly nibbles and sucks and licks Blitz’ inhibitions out of him. And then, suddenly, he rolls one of his nipples between gentle fingertips. The unexpected spike of pleasure is too much, entirely too much, and Blitz can’t help but moan, just allow this loud noise to escape his throat as if it had any justifiable reason to exist, and simultaneously panics.

“No”, he whispers and twists away from the offending hand, “stop, stop.”

Immediately, Rook pauses and withdraws a little, the troubled look on his face only increasing Blitz’ guilt. “I’m sorry. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, but give me a minute. Okay?” His words come slow, his mind still trying to catch up. Rook nods, visibly trying hard not to let his disappointment show, and rests his forehead on Blitz’ shoulder, pants softly against his collarbone and keeps holding him close. He’s given away by movement further down, his prominent erection straining against his underwear in the exposed triangle between the hem of his t-shirt and his open zip. It’s -

It looks really inviting. It looks like something Blitz needs to touch or even lick and holding back is surprisingly difficult. He pictures himself sinking to his knees and taking care of it, guiding Rook’s tentative thrusts and yes, he could do that, it’d be fine as long as he doesn’t touch himself which is getting harder by the second, pun fully intended.

“Do you want me to -” He kisses soft hair and brushes his knuckles over the rigid shaft, earning a gasp and another twitch. “I can just satisfy you. That’d be okay.”

The aqua blue eyes directed at him are full of defeat. “Why not more, mon cœur? We have the time, and we don’t need to do anything exhausting. Am I doing something wrong? Don’t you like having sex with me anymore?”

Blitz feels his face warming up once more. “It’s the opposite, rather. That’s the problem.” He would prefer not to talk about it at all until he’s found a solution by himself but he supposes he owes Rook at least this much.

Only it looks that all he’s doing for right now is thoroughly confusing him. “You like it too much? What do you mean?”

The words don’t really want to come out right, warped by insecurity and self-consciousness. “It’s… embarrassing.”

“What is?” Rook has momentarily forgotten about their state, tilting his head inquisitively and hell-bent on making Blitz spell it out for him, apparently.

“When we – you know, then I’m…” He makes a meaningful pause, hoping that Rook gets it on his own, but is merely met with more bewilderment. He must be crimson by now. “I’m too loud. Okay? I’m just – it’s awkward. I can’t hold back and I don’t like it.”

Astonishment morphs into complete and utter lack of understanding. “What?”

“It’s embarrassing”, he reiterates to really drive the point home but it seems that this isn’t where Rook’s mind is refusing to cooperate.

“It’s incredibly hot!”, his lover shoots back with passion. “No, really, you have no idea how much it turns me on, I love it. Please don’t even try to hold yourself back, it’s my favourite thing.”

Oh.

“But you’re much quieter.”

“Yeah, so I can hear you better.”

Oh. Blitz ponders this new revelation. He supposes that Rook does indeed let himself go if it’s only him being stimulated, yes, now that he thinks about it. “I just thought it wouldn’t -”

“Wait, is that the reason you didn’t want to have sex recently?” Oops. And there it is.

Sheepishly, he replies: “Maybe?”

“So I didn’t do anything wrong? You still want me to sleep with me? You were just embarrassed because you moaned during sex?”

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds silly”, Blitz protests weakly but ultimately, he has no leg to stand on. Quite literally, too, because Rook wordlessly picks him up and carries him until the mattress digs into the back of his knees.

“You have no idea how relieved I am”, Rook murmurs into the side of his neck and Blitz belatedly realises that the questions he posed weren’t rhetorical but genuine, he did want to make sure there wasn’t another unaddressed issue between them holding Blitz back. “And how pissed off.”

That’s fair, Blitz thinks. He’s still not wholly comfortable with the idea of giving himself up like this, of allowing Rook to assume total control over his body but he trusts him nonetheless. Knowing that Rook doesn’t mind, quite the opposite, is a reassurance he apparently needed, and so he wraps himself around his boyfriend and mumbles an apology.

“It’s alright, mon cœur, but if you hold yourself back now, I’m gonna fuck you so slowly you’ll end up begging.” And before he can react to this announcement in any way, Rook has shoved him onto the bed already, crawling on top of him and once again claiming his mouth, only this time the goal doesn’t seem to be seducing Blitz but rather silencing him – now that Rook knows there’s technically nothing speaking against them having sex, he’ll be unrelenting.

His mouth is merciless and so are his hands, roaming Blitz’ torso freely, rubbing him into a pleasant daze and lulling him into a false sense of security because it doesn’t stop, none of it, neither the deep kisses nor the fingertips digging into his skin and when Rook rolls his hips against his, he’s surprised at how hard both of them are nonetheless. They move up on the bed, stretching out on it while Rook suckles on his lower lip contentedly, fumbling with Blitz’ buttons.

“Shouldn’t we go back?”, Blitz gasps. “The others -”

It’s a weak excuse and both of them know it, he’s actually amazed Rook even graces him with a reply. “- won’t care, if they even notice at all. Gilles and Dom disappeared a while ago too and no one wondered about them.”

They’re definitely not doing anything like this though, Blitz wants to object but groans instead when a hand dives into his briefs and wraps around his erection. He’s momentarily stunned by how fantastic it feels to have someone else’s hand on his dick, lazily stroking up and down and squeezing the head lightly, prompting another strangled noise from him. The fierce pleasure rushes through him and erodes his sanity in a very familiar way – if he’s going to stop this at all, he has to do it soon.

“I don’t have any lube here”, he pants, desperate and his self-control waning.

The fond, adoring look this earns him makes it brilliantly clear that there really is no escape. “Mon cœur, you can’t honestly think I’d ever be unprepared for spontaneous sex”, Rook tells him gently and pulls a small bottle out of his pocket triumphantly. “Take your clothes off, will you?”

And Blitz admits defeat. He does want this, painfully so, but cringes whenever he lets out a sound he deems too loud regardless. And for some reason he has the impression that Rook is going to enjoy teasing him immensely.

Following Rook’s order turns out more complicated than he thought because the Frenchman chases after every piece of clothing with his lips, peppers any newly exposed skin with ticklish kisses and makes Blitz giggle in the process. Unlike Rook’s previously almost frantic displays of affection, he’s much more playful now, bites at Blitz’ calves until he threatens to throw him off the bed and sucks dark red marks onto his thighs. It’s oddly calming, the uncomfortable tension between them has dissipated and given way to mutual desire and passion which is a relief to Blitz also – he hates nothing more than disappointing people, and repeatedly worming his way out of something he genuinely enjoys were it not for that Small Detail wasn’t easy. Rook really must’ve worried.

“Can I make it up to you somehow?”, he offers while helping his lover out of his clothes, feeling his muscles and strong legs while doing so. He can’t help but admire his body – he’s beautiful with and without clothes, only he doesn’t get to see him naked nearly enough. Their hard work and training indubitably pays off and Rook is the best example with the pronounced muscles adorning him.

“You can moan like a whore for me”, the younger man supplies cheerfully.

“Julien.”

“Have I ever told you that you sound like my old teacher when you do that?” He catches sight of Blitz’ horrified expression and hurries to amend: “No, don’t worry, I like it. You don’t need to stop doing it.”

“You know, somehow that doesn’t make it any better.” Rook chuckles in response while ridding himself of his socks and then takes his usual place between Blitz’ spread legs, beaming at him expectantly. “Isn’t there anything else you’d like to do?” The question is dangerous. He made the mistake of granting Rook a blank cheque before and ended up sobbing into a pillow as he came so hard he got some in his hair, but right now they’re coming down after a tense mission, they don’t have all evening and Rook is missing most of his ‘equipment’ anyway. What’s the worst that could happen?

Rook contemplates the offer for a moment while touching Blitz’ stiff member, massaging the tip gently, then his scrotum, then even further down. It’s distracting despite its absent-minded nature and he finds himself lifting one of his legs to grant better access already. Noticing the subconscious gesture, Rook shoots him a smile and presses against his perineum, repeating the gesture when Blitz bites his lip at the pleasant sensation. “I’d like a certain position and a certain location. Here in this room though, don’t worry.”

Sounds easy enough. If he’s honest, it sounds entirely too easy, but gift horses and so on. Maybe Rook is happy with a little bit of experimentation, and besides, even if he wants to do something like bending Blitz over the desk, it’ll be fine. More than fine. Maybe… maybe he should bring up this suggestion himself at a later point in time. “Alright. I’m okay with that.”

“You’re the best”, Rook announces, full of giddy anticipation, and leans down to engulf the head of Blitz’ cock with his lips.

The sudden gesture makes him jump first and inhale sharply second, not expecting to be encased in moist heat this abruptly, but adapting to it is made easy by a skilled tongue swiping over sensitive flesh. Reflexive protest turns into a content sigh as Rook demonstrates exactly why Blitz allowed him to do this very thing to him at work once – no one cared what they were doing anyway, they were both bored and Rook side-eyed him and the rest is pretty messy history. The Frenchman is not only ridiculously skilled at this though, no, it’s also made better by the mischievous twinkle in his eyes whenever he gazes up to Blitz as well as the brown mane he can hold on to.

He’s serious from the start, allowing the glans to glide over his lips a few times as he bobs his head shallowly, then swallows more, goes deeper with each motion, sucking hard on every upwards pull. Within seconds, Blitz is reduced to a panting mess over the unforgiving stimulation, digging his one heel into the mattress and flexing his toes on both feet, almost shying away from the intense feeling. His breathing turns ragged, irregular, as he alternates between squeezing his eyes shut to focus on the lips tight around him and raptly watching Rook slide up and down like a true professional.

It only gets worse once his lover has snapped the cap open and poured some of the lube he inexplicably carried around with him onto his fingers, because he very practically-oriented doesn’t waste any time before pushing one of them into Blitz and that’s the moment he has to slap a hand over his mouth. Because if he thought Rook couldn’t be any more ruthless, he’s sorely disappointed when a fingertip rubs directly over his sweet spot.

Rook is very versatile concerning a lot of things, not only at work – he adapts easily to those around him and seems to fit in anywhere, and even in bed he’s eager to switch things up now and then, go with the flow, read Blitz’ mood and act accordingly. They’ve had evenings filled with languid kisses, almost lazy orgasms and copious amounts of cuddling, just like they had moments where everything was over and done with in less than five minutes. Right now, Blitz is still vaguely weightless from their earlier collective success and, now that they’ve at least acknowledged his issue, ready for a slow and thorough session.

Unlike Rook. Very unlike Rook, if how he’s currently sucking the life out of Blitz while abusing his prostate in the most wonderful way is any indication. He feels even more vulnerable now, being invaded by a slippery digit and trying to relax into the sensation, yet need is pulling his body taut and hindering him. Having Rook inside him still hasn’t lost its magic, especially not when he’s paying close attention to Blitz’ reactions as he is now, crooking his finger over and over as if he’s beckoning him to come, motioning for him to come closer and closer – and that’s exactly what Blitz is doing, still not allowing himself to make a noise but quickly running out of oxygen.

Distractedly, he notices that he’s almost lifting off the mattress due to the need thrumming through him and, abruptly, it hits him that he really is about to climax. Panicked, he pushes Rook away, nearly tripping over the edge when his cock is released with a wet pop, and is instantly rewarded with a half-lidded gaze and lips shining with spit. Breathing heavily, he gasps: “No more. I’m – I’m almost there.”

There’s an almost malicious glint in Rook’s eyes now. “Try not to come then, I’ll be fucking you regardless”, he responds, quite obviously feeling vengeful and deservedly so. Blitz opens his mouth in protest but merely draws a deep breath when a second finger joins the first, stretching him in preparation. Sinking back into the sheets, he accepts his fate which, admittedly, is more than bearable. He enjoys this part anyway, not only because Rook does but also because his lover, as with many things in this domain, is exceedingly skilful. Despite expecting it to, being entered never hurt and Blitz knows better than to take any credit for it.

Impatiently, he pushes against the fingers, grinds into them and hums at every shock of want hitting him out of nowhere. Without the added stimulation to his dick, it’s manageable, his mind blissfully empty and a dreamy smile on his face as he drifts away on the ebb and flow and then – then Rook swallows him again. Just the head for now, but it doesn’t matter because it feels divine and fantastic and holy shit what is he even doing; Blitz forgets how to breathe for a second, catapulted right back to the edge with how hard Rook is sucking but doesn’t tip over, teeters and looms but doesn’t fall.

It takes him a few moments before he can identify this heavenly sensation: Rook is tonguing the underside of the head, directly over one of Blitz’ most sensitive spots – as he very well knows. Apart from that, he’s not moving, simply rubbing over it again and again, just like with his prostate and it’s obvious what he wants to achieve at this point. But Blitz isn’t giving in. No matter how fucking magnificent it feels, he refuses to let out more than minuscule whimpers, even if Rook keeps this up… which he can, without much effort really. And actually does.

Blitz ends up trembling, trapped between an insistent tongue and deft fingers, both of which have his own hands twitching and overwhelming want taking priority over all. He’s extremely close to just getting rid of the brunet between his legs and jerking himself off but this, too, would be admitting defeat – so he endures, eyes watering, teeth clenched, abs tensing. And Rook seems to be having the time of his life. Even more so when he reaches up, his free hand slowly gliding over Blitz’ hips, his ribs, towards -

All he can do is watch in horror as fingers slowly close on his nipple but something for which he was even less prepared is Rook swallowing him whole as soon as he pinches, and the throaty moan that follows couldn’t have been held back no matter what. “My love”, Blitz whines and hears another strangled noise leave his lips while Rook makes sure he hits the back of his throat on every bob, “please, don’t – Julien – I’m so close. Oh God.” It’s too much, Rook is scissoring his fingers now, pinching harder, moving faster, and he really is just about to orgasm, he can taste it, the tingling starting in his crotch and working its way outwards to his limbs…

And Rook stops again. This time, he ceases all stimulation, withdraws both hands, sits up and licks his lips with a satisfied grin. The air is cool on wet skin and Blitz feels himself throb, feels his hole pulse and has to make an effort to see straight. If, in certain moments, his lover feels a fraction of the ferocious desire currently tugging at Blitz’ limbs, he can’t blame him for being perpetually aroused. Rook is a God and Blitz wants to worship him the only way his brain is allowing him to consider right now.

“Come on”, he pleads quietly, reaching for his boyfriend, “come on, Julien, don’t make me wait.”

The impish smirk transforms into a devoted smile and Rook leans down for a tender but quick kiss. He’s not unaffected, as his rock hard erection betrays him, but he’s certainly more composed than Blitz. “I love you”, he murmurs against his lips before climbing off the mattress, holding out a hand. “Get up. We’re doing it while standing.”

Easier said than done, his legs probably don’t feel like rubber. Blitz crawls to the edge of the mattress and lets Rook help him up, then sways unsteadily in place, much to his boyfriend’s amusement. His lower half is still throbbing viciously, demanding release or at the very least more stimulation, and coherent thought is nigh impossible in this state. Uncomprehending, he watches as Rook turns off the light and then fumbles his way to the large windows, drawing the curtains back and letting pale moonlight in.

“Come here”, he says with a grin and Blitz understands.

“Julien.”

“They can’t see you like this.”

“Julien, no.”

“You promised.”

He did promise. Not explicitly, but he agreed to Rook’s terms and this is apparently what they are: fucking him against a full length window. He should’ve noticed this loophole and is grateful that he at least killed the lights or else all their colleagues outside would’ve gotten mooned by Rook’s really quite marvellous ass. He thinks about it. The façade is dark enough, he certainly couldn’t look into any of the darkened rooms.

As he approaches, face burning, Rook’s outstretched arm curls around his midsection and creates a protective barrier between Blitz’ body and the cool glass in front of him. He’s manoeuvred between Rook and the window, facing the outside, and forces himself not to look down at all the people he knows, instead focuses on Rook pressing himself against his back and kissing his shoulder, heavy erection slipping between his cheeks and rubbing over his quivering ring of muscle which is more than ready to receive it.

“I’ve always wanted to do this”, Rook divulges with a chuckle. “It’s going to be so hot when you shoot against the window, mon cœur.”

None of what he’s saying helps to put Blitz at ease but since his body is still in horny mode, he’s incapable of refusing Rook anything. “This is terrible”, he states and flinches when the tip of his dick touches the cold surface, shoves his hips against Rook’s.

“Just relax. And remember that no one can see you.” In the second it takes Rook to lube up his own cock, Blitz contemplates his life choices but gets rudely interrupted when Rook pushes his legs apart a little further. Knowing what’s about to happen, Blitz shuts his eyes so all his attention is concentrated on the glorious sensation of Rook entering him from behind – the first stretch is mind-numbing and feels endless, but once the head has slipped in, it’s just a matter of filling up his insides; every centimetre pushes more air out of his lungs until Rook bottoms out with a blissful moan. They stay mostly still for a few elating seconds during which Blitz can’t help but reach between his legs, fondle Rook’s balls and make him twitch deep inside repeatedly, something that always sends waves of pleasure rolling through him.

Rook fills him out so perfectly as if they were made for each other but he’s still in a pitiless mood: once Blitz has nodded and thus given him the signal to move, he withdraws almost all the way before slamming back in, repeating the process when it yields another broken sound from Blitz. He loves when Rook does this, when his hard thrusts reach deep but don’t come so fast as to numb his insides with overstimulation – like this, he feels every centimetre sliding in and out keenly, almost stumbles and staggers each time Rook hits his prostate. The angle is unfair, the fact that he has to endure this while standing merciless and Rook’s lustful moans directly into his ear lacking any compassion. He’s going to be ruined.

First, he needs recover his balance, he’s dizzy and only getting worse with every burst of pleasure exploding behind his eyelids, every hard impact, so he steadies himself against the windowpane. The smooth glass is icy to the touch and only reminds him of how scorchingly hot Rook is, how the hands holding on to Blitz’ hips set him ablaze, Rook’s breath on the back of his neck as hot as his body, radiating heat and making Blitz sweat. A particularly vicious thrust hitting all the right spots forces another moan out of him but so far he’s been good, suppressed a lot more… but why is he holding back?

Rook is living out a fantasy of his right now, and he’s making no effort to hide it – already his movements are becoming irregular and the endless stream of noises falling from his lips is unselfconscious. He’s utterly lost in the moment and has no qualms about letting Blitz know, allowing him to hear just how good he feels, how much he’s enjoying himself. He’s so… honest and open.

The moment Blitz moans his lover’s name, Rook almost loses his rhythm. He stumbles a little, obviously surprised, but when Blitz does it again, Rook echoes it with a similar groan of his own. He curses heartily and increases the speed at which he drives into Blitz, simultaneously hugging him tightly so he can’t go as deep but neither of them care. If he could see his reflection, Blitz bets that the other man would be smiling.

It’s astonishingly easy. Once Blitz has gotten accustomed to channelling the intense pleasure into mewls and whines and gasps, it happens all by itself, genuine reactions to Rook’s thorough fucking – and it’s liberating, strangely enough, heightens his lust where before he robbed himself of this, diminished it through his misplaced embarrassment. He feels more naked than before, probably also due to the fake sense of exposure the glass before him gives off, but it’s fine because Rook holds him, a reliable strong body keeping him upright and causing more and more pulsing need. He’s ecstatic.

Wanting more, needing to feel Rook even more sharply, Blitz pushes his hips back once again, changing their stance slightly to break the embrace but allow Rook deeper penetration which turns out to be one of the best ideas he’s ever had. His hands scrabble for purchase against the cool window but find none, so he squishes the side of his face against it instead, every hard thrust dragging his skin against the glass and every breath of his fogging it up yet it’s perfect like this. Rook’s motions are almost frantic now, getting worse whenever Blitz moans a yes or oh fuck and he can’t blame him, he does sound increasingly lewd.

His thighs are shaking by now from the exertion, his body covered in a sheen of sweat and his brain long bidden farewell. All he can do is idly wonder why he ever leaves the Frenchman out of his sight, why he would ever say no to any of his suggestions when he ends up feelings this fucking amazing each time. A hand wraps around his shaft, making him groan and instinctively clench around Rook’s cock, heightening the gratifying sensations with which it graces him.

“Imagine they could actually see you like this”, Rook whispers into his ear and increases the tempo, ramps up the intensity even more, the thought quite obviously exciting him. And Blitz does, he does imagine it, pictures what he looks like right now – rosy cheeks, face flattened and palms uselessly pressed against the window, lower half pushed towards Rook to allow for deep thrusts, swollen cock happily dripping clear liquid as it bobs along to the rhythm at which he’s being entered. He’s fine with showing his boyfriend this side of his since it goes both ways, he’s seen Rook squirming in ecstasy below him before. But he’d rather not share either of these displays with anyone else.

By now, his legs are threatening to give in despite the iron hold around his hips. His pleasure never really declined as he didn’t recover from Rook’s spectacular blow job earlier, and so he’s been high-strung this entire time, the relentless stimulation of his prostate in this position only contributing to the roaring lust. Feeling a fist around his dick now leaves him reeling and he pushes into it mindlessly, moves back and forth between Rook’s hot flesh and his merciful hand promising sweet release, his desire building and building, working towards the crescendo -

Rook plunges deep into him a few times more and he’s gone. He barely stops himself from folding in half at the sudden, concentrated pleasure hitting him and moans with abandon, moans to accompany every motion fucking his orgasm out of him, moans for the way Rook massages his dick, moans at each violent spurt of come shooting out of him and splashing the smooth glass, the only barrier between him and outside. The relief is overwhelming to a point where his vision goes dark for a second and his entire universe consists of pure delight for an impressively long time. He feels like he handed himself over wholly and this is his reward for trusting the man behind him – and it was more than worth it. Panting in disbelief, he rides it out until the pleasure has subsided and given way to thorough contentment, a deep-seated warmth relaxing his muscles.

He opens his eyes to Mute staring up at him from the street.

His heart skips a beat and the unexpected adrenalin rush makes him perk up despite the physical exhaustion. No, he’s not imagining it, Mute is indeed looking up to where he is squished against the window, and so is Smoke. Both of them are grinning like people who just got away with murder – but that’s not even all. Hibana, a few metres away, also gapes up at him, pointing and apparently making the others aware because most of them turn and look and Jesus fucking Christ.

“Julien”, he murmurs urgently, pushing against the glass to move them back, further into the room, away from the freaking window which has betrayed him so. “Julien, please -”

“I’m so close”, his lover mews, his grip tightening. He’s not letting go and he’s not letting Blitz move, holy hell, soon everyone will have seen them, and this is when Mute takes out his phone.

No. Fucking. Way.

“Move, Julien, we have to -” He’s flailing, struggling against his lover who reacts by merely shoving Blitz’ upper half against the cold surface, the shock of it causing him to tense once more and this is apparently what does it for Rook.

Helplessly, Blitz stares down at his smiling colleagues while Rook unloads inside him, their hips flush and his hot breath in Blitz’ hair. It’s not made any better by the fact that he can feel literally every throb with which his lover pumps his sperm into him, he feels it all while shuddering in residual want and keeping up eye contact with people he’s going to have to face again very soon.

He wishes for a swift death. Or maybe immediate exile.

This is the worst.

“Julien, they’re looking at us”, he hisses quietly once Rook has started relaxing against him.

“What?” A short pause. “Oh shit. Oh fuck. I didn’t think -” Finally, fucking finally he allows Blitz to move, withdraws gingerly and takes a step back into the safety of darkness. “I’m so sorry, mon cœur, I didn’t know -”

Blitz is both too much in shock and overcome with mortification to reply, so he mutely watches as Rook hurries to wipe the window clean, draw the curtains shut again and switch the light back on. To his credit, he has the decency to look apologetic as he basically wrings his hands in worry.

“At least they had a nice view?”, the Frenchman offers tentatively and that is it. Blitz is going to have to look for a new job. There’s absolutely no way he’ll ever live this down, let alone be able to look any of them in the eyes again. Ever.

“Are you insane?!”, he shoots back, audibly upset. “They watched me – I can’t believe it. None of them even knew -”

“Well, they know now.” Rook takes his hand and drags him into the bathroom and into the spacious shower, quite obviously to take his mind off of this… horror. “It’s okay, mon cœur.”

“Literally none of this is okay!” He got carried away, agreed to Rook’s terms out of guilt; he should’ve refused instead but at that point it wasn’t his upper brain doing the thinking anymore. He wonders whether anyone is going to put ‘excessive embarrassment’ as his cause of death on his tombstone.

While Rook’s gentle caresses under the warm stream of water help soothe him a little, the growing shit-eating grin does exactly the opposite. “Come on, don’t be so grumpy. You’re going to laugh about it one day. And I know you wanted to tell people yourself, but now we don’t need to hide anymore. Really, it’s a win-win situation.”

Blitz doesn’t think he’ll have any success in trying to make Rook understand that if he was embarrassed about being too loud during sex already, being watched by people whom he personally knows is infinitely worse. Not even affectionate kisses can calm the shame raging inside him and so he at first vehemently protests when Rook suggests they go back outside. “There is no way in hell I can show my face right now, neither my pride nor I would survive that.”

“Look, you fell off the horse, you have to get back on it. Better get it over with now, right?”

He has a point. Blitz doesn’t like admitting it, but his cheery boyfriend is possibly right in this, even if his bright smile is incredibly irritating. Eventually he relents after realising that Rook won’t allow for any peace otherwise, splashes his face with some cold water to hopefully reduce the flaming colour a little and fidgets restlessly in the elevator. He’s so far refrained from telling even his closest friends about Rook, so this must come as a shock to some of them. And he definitely would’ve preferred they hear about it any other way.

Everyone’s attention shifts to them as soon as they step out in front of the hotel and Blitz very nearly turns on his heel to storm back in. Rook has placed a supportive hand on his back, nudging him forwards towards their beaming colleagues.

“There you are!”, Mute greets them excitedly. “Did you two -”

“Yes, we are together!”, Blitz snaps at him, interrupting him with the brusque announcement. “And no, I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Deafening silence.

Buck pauses mid-sip, Ying looks up from where she was dramatically dipping a giggling Hibana, and Maestro seems speechless. Even Maestro doesn’t seem to know what to say.

“Riiight”, Mute replies awkwardly the way someone would react to an entirely uncalled-for slur by a racist grandparent, and Smoke murmurs a quiet and yet perfectly audible: “Weird flex but okay.”

Blitz has no idea what’s going on. Mutely, they all stare each other until Rook tugs at his sleeve and wordlessly points up at the hotel.

There’s an illuminated window, by Blitz’ estimate directly above his own room, and two silhouettes are illuminated in a tight embrace. They are the only thing visible and even then it’s a little difficult to make them out as the windows are tinted.

The windows are fucking tinted.

Not only that, their light was switched off and it seems that everyone was amazed at whatever transpired in the actually lit room, not theirs.

“Well”, Blitz says more to himself than anyone else, because.

Because well.

And then he finally gets why everyone is so thrilled, why people were laughing and smiling, why Mute felt the need to record whatever was happening above their room, in plain sight, very unlike what Rook and he were doing at the time.

“It’s Dom and Gilles, isn’t it?”, Rook wants to know, mirroring everyone else’s exhilaration and earns a few nods.

“They were adorable”, Ying fills him in and nearly drops Hibana, “so awkward around each other but so cute, they kept looking at each other and not knowing what to do with their hands, and a few minutes ago they finally kissed. Took them long enough, but they got there. Now what was that about you and Elias?”

“Nothing”, Blitz hurries to answer. He feels Rook’s gaze on him, remembers how well he reacted to the prospect of their friends knowing about them. “I mean – it’s true. We are together.”

And when Hibana finally hits the ground with an exaggerated shriek, it’s almost like a signal for everyone to go back to whatever it is they were doing previously. It’s as if nothing happened, only now Blitz has one secret less to weigh him down. And Rook is smiling at him as if he hung the stars.

“That didn’t go so badly, did it?”, the Frenchman purrs and snakes his arms around Blitz’ waist, pulling them flush. The urge to fight the casual display of affection is still present but Blitz squashes it without much effort, thinking back to Mute and Smoke leaning into each other as if it was the most natural thing on this world. And… it really is, isn’t it?

“Could’ve been a lot worse”, he agrees and kisses him. A few ‘awww’s erupt behind them and he doesn’t know whether they’re directed at them or maybe Bandit and Montagne who have gone back to kissing as well, but it doesn’t matter. They all know now and it’s certainly the better option compared to knowing everyone watched him get -

“Does this mean I can spend the night in your room?”

Rook is being cheeky and both of them are aware, he often jokingly suggests things despite knowing Blitz will say no, only this time he gets a nod without hesitation. “Yeah. I’d like that.” Rook’s instant joy makes it more than worth it, though it also prompts Blitz to clarify one thing extremely carefully: “But we’re never doing anything like this again.”

#rainbow six siege #blitz #rook #blitz/rook #fanfic #oneshot #I apparently wasn't aware of how fond I actually am of these two #but it was a lot of fun to write #bet you all saw this going a little differently

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