#i like to believe that she isn't always mean on purpose | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

arminsumi · 7 months

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First request ever: Can you make a story about Gojo, where their both in a relationship but gojo had to end it because he was afraid that she would be in danger?

Thank you! Keep up the good work, I love your stories!!!

LET ME MARRY YOU

↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader

The risk of dating you his too much for him to handle, so he breaks it off, only for him to come back to your doorstep years later and ask: "Let me marry you."

Note : istg each time i edited this... the wordcount grew lol. i hope u enjoyyy 🥹💗 tysm for enjoying my work it means everything

Warnings : angst -> fluff (?) -> happy ending trust me, Shibuya arc spoilers (Ep 9), manga spoilers (chapter 221)

🍒 More from Jay : Gojo works / Gojo fave works / JJK works / oct. reqs open

The risk of dating you is thrilling when Satoru's just a teenager in puppy love. But as he grows older, and heads into those dreaded 20s, the risk makes him more and more nervous.

What if something happens to you?

He presses kiss after kiss to your forehead and feels his chest tremble, feels his lips quiver, as he refrains from telling you the truth about the Jujutsu world. Satoru just can't do it.

There are so many instances of him saving you from curses that you're oblivious about. He just smiles strangely, and you wonder why he looks like he's just seen a ghost. Because he has, those pretty eyes see ghosts. But those pretty eyes also see you, "What am I looking at?" he responds after you ask why he's looking at you so tenderly, "I'm looking at my future wife." he flirts just to fluster you.

That's at the cafe, when things are still simple. He keeps thinking to himself, as he lays with you in bed some nights;

I want to marry you.

I'm going to marry you.

Please let me be your husband one day.

As if he's trying to manifest it.

Everything is okay-ish... until he gets pangs of fright when your name starts to be known outside of his closed circle of friends.

It's October 11th.

Gojo Satoru breaks up with you.

He leads you to believe that the two of you are just "right person, wrong time". It all hurts an incomprehensible amount for him, to finally cut the string that tethers the two of you together.

He sits on the stairs, head in his hands, mourning.

He starts many mornings with crying spells that last until midday.

He destroys evidence of you and him. In case anyone ever finds it and thus finds your apartment, or work, or college... or anything.

But he can't part with a very special photo. It's you and him in Okinawa, sharing a cheesy kiss at the beach. In the moment this photo was captured, Gojo remembers having whispered some dirty joke in your ear and that's why you smiled so big into his kiss.

He drifts to sleep to the lullaby lovesongs that defined your love.

Years pass, he refuses to even talk to you. The heartbreak worsens with time, he laughs when he realizes that on his 27th birthday.

Isn't time supposed to heal all wounds? Someone said that to him once. Well, they must have been lying without realizing it.

The day Gojo Satoru is sealed, he looks into Suguru's eyes, and remembers you through them. When he resides in that awful prison realm, he only thinks of you you you you you you you oh god he misses you so much that it feels like the very thought of your smile stabs his chest. Every memory is painful. Every flashback puts one more crack in his heart.

"Can't I ever catch a break...?" He laughs to himself, chattering skeletons making their eerie symphony around him.

He thinks. Ponders. Wonders. Broods. Daydreams. All about you. Always about you. Never anything else. Just his first love, from the late spring of his 17th year.

His earthly goddess.

The purpose of his benevolent actions.

He cries. And sobs. And weeps. Because no one can hear him but the skeletons and he's sure they don't mind the sight or sound of a 27 man howling in pain over a lost lover.

It's not just your relationship that he's mourning. But the fact he can't feel you in this cube... that he can't feel your presence in the world... that's worse than the heartbreak. At least through all these years, he's been able to sense your existence. Feel the subtle ripples of your soul no matter how distant you are; you'd be stood in a coffee shop, he'd be at Jujutsu High teaching, and yet feeling you.

Because as he promised to you at 17, "Half my soul is yours. And half your soul is mine. I'll always be with you even if I'm not there."

He has the biggest breakdown of his life in that little cramped suffocating claustrophobic eerie creepy box.

It's 19 days later. He's out. He's back in the world. And he feels the sense of you, your existence, swelling in his chest, tickling his mind, prodding his heart.

"Gojo sensei, where are you headed?"

"I'm gonna go find my other half." he says cryptically.

It's a stark bright day.

Gojo Satoru knocks at your apartment door.

You open it.

He looks at you, and you look at him.

"Hi."

"...hey...? Wow. Haha... you grew into your features, huh?"

Your voice fills his heart with life.

"You too... glad you still live in the same place... I was worried you might have moved out..."

"... Ah, Satoru, you'd be able to find me no matter what corner of the world I resided in."

Your laugh fills his mind with pleasant memories.

There's an a magnetism between you and him just like there always used to be. It feels like two magnets connecting at last, after feeling the distant attraction throughout all these years of distance.

"You're right." Satoru says after a silence of just staring into your eyes.

"I'll always find my way home."

A silence ensues after he says this.

"...haha... don't cry... or I'll cry..."

"... Satoru... I thought of you every day after you left me at the station."

"... me too."

"... why did you leave?"

He stares at you.

"... I was scared of you being in danger."

He gulps.

"Me? In danger? But you're the strongest, why would it matter."

Oh god that's right. You said it then when you were 17, "You're the strongest" and he carried that title with him from then. And now you've said it again. He's reminded. He feels a bit stupid. A bit ridiculous. A bit...

"You're right..." he chokes up. "I am. I could have protected you I guess..."

"... yeah, duh."

He smiles meekly.

It was more complicated than that, sweetheart. But I won't tell you.

He hesitates. He contemplates.

"I have to tell you everything... will you promise to believe everything I say even if it sounds insane?"

"Of course. What is it?"

He inhales deeply. And instead of blurting out his whole life story of being a sorcerer in the Jujutsu world, he just leans in and kisses you hard and truthfully. Cups your cheeks. Closes his eyes. Tastes you like a sweet from his childhood that he hasn't had for years. Presses to you. Takes in your scent.

Yeah yeah... he'll tell you everything in a minute.

But for now just let him kiss you until he runs out of breath.

Let him just...

"Hey..." he pulls away, gasping, "Let me marry you."

"Haha, Satoru..." you take it as a joke and laugh, because it sounds as bizarre and unexpected as one. Then you realize there's that serious look on his face. "... Satoru?"

"Can I?"

"... what?"

"Can I please?"

"... huh??"

"Can I marry you, please?"

He looks at you and waits for your answer. His poor heart. It's palpitating. His whole chest cavity inspires with love for you. This man that you haven't seen in years has just asked if you'll let him marry you — with very specific wording.

Can he? Will you let him?

It's funny in a way, because you think to yourself; this is such a Satoru thing to do... show up unannounced years later on your doorstep and ask for your hand in marriage as if no time has passed, as if you know the full story.

"Satoru... what happened to you throughout these years for you to come back to me and ask for my hand in marriage?" you ask, genuinely baffled.

He swallows slowly. "I know I sound like I've lost my mind. But I promise I haven't."

"That's hard to believe. The Satoru I remember was always on the brink of mania. A bit insane but not quite."

You make him laugh. "Yeah..."

"So are you asking to marry me out of insanity?"

"No."

"Well alright then. I guess I'll marry you."

You make him laugh again, with that funny tone. He hasn't laughed genuinely in years... it's always been that plastic laugh. But this is his genuine laugh. Silky and quiet. The opposite of his demeanor.

"I guess I should be explaining everything to you properly... before I ask you something like that."

"You're damn right..."

"... don't scold me too hard when I tell you all the reasons I left. Or, if you do, then at least hold me while you scold me. And run your fingers through my hair like you used to."

"Satoru."

"Yes?"

His heart throbs. He looks at you.

"Stop standing at the doorway and come inside."

"Oh."

You sigh. He smiles. Then he bows his head so it doesn't hit the top of the doorframe. Damn tiny Tokyo apartments. Your archway always had it out for the crown of his head. You laugh when he bumps into it just like he always used to.

So the two of you sit down and just talk. And talk. Maybe cry a bit. Actually, you cry a lot. And he holds you. And he says he's sorry. He says sorry over and over, as if the word is a bandage he's trying to wrap around all your heartbreak wounds that he caused.

"I'm sorry."

Satoru's apologies aren't easy to come by, and when you receive them, they nurse your heart. It's the gentleness with which he says it, and earnest too. Each successive sorry means more than the last.

"My angel..."

When you call him this after he vents to you about his time in the Prison Realm, and his overwhelming duty of being the strongest, he breaks down completely and just weeps in your arms.

He sobs like you've never heard him sob before, like a dog.

Finally. At least for a moment. He could be weak. Let down his guard. Be raw. Be emotional. Not a teacher. Not a sorcerer. Just your boy. Your Satoru.

Your consolation is all he wanted throughout these years. He looks up at you, eyes red and sore, nose sniffling, and stares at you like he can see your soul.

"...Satoru?"

"Marry me."

You chuckle again.

"If that will stop your tears..." you joke.

He sniffles loudly and swallows, composing himself.

"I thought about marrying you so much when we were together... 'n I tried so hard to bite my tongue when your name nearly rolled off it while talking to my students some days. I was always..."

On the verge of saying your name.

He sniffles long and hard and waits for your hand to weave into his hair.

"Will you think about it?"

"I will."

There's a silence. Satoru feels hopeful. He lays on your chest, arms around you like you're his whole world that he won't dare let go of again.

"There." you say with finality. "I thought about it. Let's get married."

"That took you, like, ten seconds."

You laugh with him. "Yeah... I already knew in my heart when you asked me at the doorway... you know... Satoru... it's funny. When you left, it felt like half my soul was gone. And when you knocked on my doorstep, it felt like I was whole again. Does that sound freaky, or does it tie into all this... Juju... Jujutsu stuff?"

He's silent.

"I have no idea."

"Wow. My future husband isn't knowledgeable at all." you joke.

His heart flutters at 'future husband'.

"Sorry." he says, smiling softly, "My mind is blank when your fingers are running through my hair."

The two of you go on and on, until you're laid in bed sleeping at each other's side. Resting. And god, did Gojo Satoru need a good rest.

In your arms, he's no longer an insomniac.

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

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picturejasper20 · 6 months

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Steven Universe as a character is someone who has been mischaracterized and flanderized over the years, to the point people who aren't into the fandom or haven't watched the show believe that mischaracterization to be a fact rather that a product that comes from memes and jokes

The truth is that Steven often fights in the series when it is needed, usually by fusing with someone else like Connie or Amethyst since he is still developing his powers in the original series. He doesn't cry when he has to fight back or defend himself, with exception if the person attacking is someone he considers a friend. Because, yes, for a 14-15 old teenager it isn't fun having to do something like that and it can be traumatic.

He also doesn't start to cry the moment someone refuses to change their mind or is being mean. He often isn't afraid to be sarcastic or call that person out. He didn't cry when Aquamarine mocked him in ¨Stuck Together¨ nor when Jasper didn't apologize for poofing Amethyst in ¨Crack the Whip¨

However, what we see is sometimes him blaming himself for not being able to help people that, more often than not, have been hurt by Rose Quartz, his mother, in some way. After Season 3, Steven fears a lot that he is going to become like Rose and he is going to hurt people the way like she did.

In general Steven deals with an Atlas complex in the show. He feels like he has to fix his mother mistakes and deal with ¨what she left behind¨ even when Rose wanted for him to be his own person as seen in the tape she left for him as it was revealed in the episode ¨Lion 4: The Alternate Ending¨.

Steven also defines his identity a lot for being to help other people and fix their problems. He believes that he has to be ¨useful¨ for others. So when he believes that he failed to help someone, that may lead him to think that he isn't living up to his ¨purpose¨ or that he is a failure as a person.

In reality, he isn't that much different from other hero protagonists from other animated shows. Those who are kind and emphatic and willing to listen to other people and give them a second chance if the person changes their ways. You probably like an animated show that has a protagonist like this. (Who was probably taken inspiration from Steven if the series came out after SU).

The main difference, i think, is that Steven goes a bit more than those protagonists do when it comes to listening to other people, understand their motivations and give them another chance if they regret their actions. A lot has to do with how he is aware that his enemies (usually gems) act the way the do because of the system they were born into rather ¨they are evil just because¨. He gets that their motivations come from the system that hurt them or lead them to believe that their actions are justified.

Another common mischaracterization is that Steven becomes super buddies with every person he helps...when this isn't always the case. There are some occasions that Steven shows discomfort around people who he has given a second chance. Just because he gives them a second chance doesn't mean that he immediately considers them close friends, maybe allies at best.

A good example of this is the gif above of Steven's interactions with White Diamond in ¨Homeworld Bound¨. White Diamond touches Steven very close to where his gem is- which makes Steven distressed since in his battle again White, she ripped his gem out to prove that Pink was still ¨alive¨. In most of the episode Steven shows to be very uncomfortable around the Diamonds and Spinel, to some extent. They bring him bad memories, which is the main reason he has been doing everything to avoid going to them to ask for their help until this point in Steven Universe Future. He even almost accidentally hurts White's gem by smashing her head against a pillar when she lets him control her to talk to himself. This being result of a intrusive ¨vengeful¨ thought.

I wouldn't say that Steven hates the Diamonds,but- he doesn't want to be their friend neither and wants to avoid in general because he feels nervous and bad around them. It's something like ¨I'm glad that you are changing but i don't want to be associated with you. Please, i would appreciate if you kept your distance from me.¨ dynamic.

On last point, Steven is someone who usually pushes his feelings down in certain situations and buries them down, which has led him to have strong emotional outbursts in bad moments. He usually prefers to ignore his own problems and take priority on others. Again, this comes a lot from his desire to be useful and be needed, making him trying to ignore how he feels about certain people and pretend that he is doing fine.

This explains why we don't see him lash out that much to others in the original series, and, why he feels so frustrated and angry in Future, since all that anger and negative feelings can't no longer be ignored as they used to and they are having a negative impact in Steven's mental health. This, of course, isn't meant to be seen is a healthy coping mechanism. It is in fact potrayed as something pretty self-destructive for Steven, as a huge flaw of his, that over time he comes to learn that it isn't the best way for him to deal with his problems.

These are some of the most common misconceptions i have seen about Steven's character online. I could go in more depth with some of them but i think the points should be clear enough. This could be considered a general analysis of how Steven is as a character and how he operates, leaving aside more specific things that can be covered in other posts.

#steven universe #steven quartz universe #steven universe future #rose quartz #su analysis

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lily-radiance · 3 months

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Hazbin Hotel idea

- Fallen-Angel reader(Fem) x Alastor

The reader is doubting Heaven's actions and decides to take a trip to Hell to see for herself.

- Disagrees with the idea of senseless carnage but understands life is not so simple and split in two.

- Charlie, of course, takes her in, although she does not know the reader is an angel. The reader at first doubts the redemption idea but begins to see the vision.

- Reader is not a fan of Lucifer for many reasons, but mainly because he "betrayed" Heaven, and his relationship with Lilith/Charlie is strained.

- Imagine Hell's greatest Dad, but instead of y'know the whole dad part, Lucifer and Alastor are trying to make you pick a side.

- Alastor, chaotic as usual, tries to get the reader to accept being fallen and doesn't want her to go back. She tells him about her 'predicament' before anyone else, and you better believe he wants to fight the angels for you. He tells Charlie and the others about everything because he knows you won't do it yourself. You obviously get mad. Like big mad.

- In your spiral, he sees your wings at their total capacity, and your shaken demeanor has them changing from white to black at a high rate.

- Vox and Valentino get the terrible idea to hold you for ransom against Alastor and Angel Dust, and they do not go unpunished. Vox makes several derogatory comments about your "holier than thou image," Alastor won't let him get away with it. When it comes to you, he has no problem with your lineage, and honestly, he finds it charming that an angel of all creatures would fall for him.

One of your wings gets injured, and unsurprisingly, it happens to be one of the only angelic wings left. (Say the top and bottom wings on each side are black while the middle two are white?) You used to dye your wings to hide your angelic nature, but with an injury present, it is the least of your concerns. Alastor refuses to let you fly while in recovery, and he has to deal with your pouting. When you do heal, he's still weary, always accompanying you in case you need a helping hand.

"Al, I can fly on my own! Look, my wing is healed!"

"No."

"C'mon, just one lap around the hotel!"

"No."

- Husk thinks you're pretty chill company and likes to vent when you have nothing to do. Sure, he can't say much about Alastor without fearing for his soul, but when he can, the conversations are never dull. If you make him laugh, you'll never let him forget it.

- Angel and Nifty constantly tease you about your infatuation with a particular radio demon. Don't expect any worthwhile advice, even if it means no harm. Charlie really wants to see you and Al together, but she might need to be reminded about boundaries.

- Angel Dust once tried to hit on you to see what would happen and nearly got thrown into next week.

- When he says "Good Girl" to Charlie, you can't help but blush and be a little jealous. He isn't afraid to use the phrase to fluster you on purpose, although you would prefer he not.

- If you wear makeup/do your nails, he will be fascinated. He doesn't say anything because once, he spooked you and made you jump, ruining it. The next hour was spent with him memorizing every detail of your designs in case of another mistake. If he scares you again, it's his job to redo everything. Except for mascara. Never mascara.

- Chess and poker games when the staff has downtime. He will use his shadows to help you cheat, but only if he's not playing with you. Husk knows but says nothing.

- If you're listening to music with earbuds, he will occasionally slow the signal so he can bother you. At first, you were annoyed, but realized it was his odd way of communication. Plus, he still hates technology. (You will purposely play "Video Killed The Radio Star" to get him back.)

"Would you kindly stop playing that infernal song, my dear?"

"Not until you stop interrupting my music."

- The Egg Bois love you, that's no surprise. They always ask about you when being watched by Alastor. The radio demon has come to accept the many questions by now, but the first time, he wanted to spit out his coffee. You think fondly of the memory, occasionally bringing it up to lighten the mood.

"Are you and Mom fighting?"

- When you get into disagreements, expect a few dozen bouquets of white roses in your room. He's terrible at expressing emotions other than murderous intent, and Charlie does what she can to help. You're both stubborn, but it gets too exhausting to keep up the act, and eventually, someone has to cave. (Charlie isn't afraid to wear her horns when confronting him, and if he tries to avoid apologizing, Lucifer will make a daily phone call to annoy him.)

"Hey asshole, talk to your girlfriend, it's upsetting my daughter. Also, you suck."

- Regarding the Extermination day, you try your best to fight the Angelic invasion but struggle. Alastor is stuck between keeping you and the Hotel safe. When Adam nearly beats him, you don't know he's alive, but his reappearance at the new and improved hotel is a welcome sight. He's a little rattled that he almost died, but seeing you safe is enough to keep him going. He might be a tad crazier, but you love him to pieces anyway as you run up and hug him. Typically, he despises physical contact, but coming from you, he doesn't mind, even going so far as to hug you back.

"I assure you that I'm alright, mon cher."

"Are you sure, Al, because that was a difficult fight. Wait—your voice!"

The radio demon takes a moment to realize that without his staff, his voice is clearer than before.

"Oh, you must mean the radio feedback is gone. Yes, I suppose you've never heard my regular voice. I had forgotten what it sounded like. How is it?

"It sounds lovely. I couldn't imagine a better fit."

"I should return the compliment; that is what a proper gentleman does. Your wings look lovely as ever, (Y/N)."

You look over your shoulder to see the feathers no longer entirely black, but back to their ivory shade. A few straggled feathers remain, but you don't mind, overjoyed.

In the middle of your undeniably cute interaction, the rest of the staff is watching. It isn't until Husk interrupts with "get a room" that you two get the hint.

Bonus:

Ruffle this tall disaster's hair. He might complain, but he loves it.

Are you feeling extra crazy? Boop him. Just boop the nose. He will do the same to you.

#hazbin hotel #fanfiction #hazbin alastor #hazbin spoilers #alastor x reader

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chiscribbs · 11 months

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[***NOTE: Leo's design here is no longer accurate, link to the updated version.]

I know there are already a lot of "the brothers are separated at a young age and raised by different people" AUs floating around, so this isn't especially original, but- I've yet to see one with this particular parent-child arrangement, so...

Here’s some rough concept art for what I’m calling the “Grown Apart AU” Which I've also been affectionately referring to as the "Everyone's a Disney Protagonist" AU for quite some time... you'll see why.

Here’s the gist: Basically, Splinter is only able to save Mikey and Leo from the lab explosion - Raph is immediately picked up by Huginn and Muninn and handed back over to Draxum; Donnie is lost mid-escape and later found by Big Mama's goons, who show up for Lou but bring Don back with them instead when Lou is nowhere to be found.

Details of each turtles’ upbringings (as well as how/when they meet April) below the cut:

RAPH

Draxum raised Raph to be everything he originally intended the turtles to be: a ruthless, obedient super soldier whose sole purpose in life is to protect the Yokai by eliminating the human threat. Draxum taught him to hate humankind and trained him up to be virtually undefeatable in battle. However...because Draxum isn't the most attentive parent, most of the caretaking for Raph was actually provided by Huginn and Muninn. And the two little well-meaning gargoyles - mostly unintentionally and outside of their master's knowledge - wound up nurturing a much softer and friendlier side to their supposedly bloodthirsty warrior-in-the-making. As a result, Raph has essentially been living a double-life under Draxum’s ownership; playing the part of a perfect soldier for his father/general, who he's determined not to disappoint, and only feeling free to be himself when he's alone (or with H&M.)

Raph has always known that there were supposed to be other mutants like himself but grew up believing that he's the only one who survived the experiment, making him the only one left in existence (until Draxum’s oozesquitos create more, that is). Even though he had H&M to keep him company, being an only child could still be pretty lonely sometimes, so Raph would often imagine what having brothers - other mutants like himself that he could have grown up alongside - would have been like.

Raph is the only one of the turtles that knows his human DNA comes from Lou Jitsu - just like Draxum, though, he has no idea that Splinter is actually Lou Jitsu.

DONNIE

Donnie had a posh and cushy upbringing in Big Mama's hotel - she raised him as her own son(unaware that he’s actually Lou’s)/apprentice and uses his technological talents to aid her multiple businesses: he supplies new weapons and battlegrounds for the Battle Nexus, as well as automated assistants and security for her hotel, and even pitches in with her more off-the-record dealings that last one being without Donnie’s knowledge. Big Mama's kept him pretty much wrapped around her little finger; praising him for his intelligence and usefulness whenever he does a good job or makes her nice things. When he hasn’t, however, she’s a less-than-affectionate mother. Donnie will do absolutely anything it takes to impress and earn approval from her.

Donnie is largely sheltered and knows very little about the world outside of the hotel - especially the human world, about which most of his knowledge comes from what he finds on the internet. He doesn't even know that he's a mutant, believing himself to be just some uncommon type of yokai, since that's all he knows. He’s not allowed to fraternize freely with the hotel guests and has a somewhat contentious relationship with Big Mama’s assistant, whom he’s always viewed as competition for her affection. The closest thing he's had to a friend is S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N, whom Donnie built to have someone to talk to (besides Big Mama's boring, no-nonsense henchmen).

Don finally met April when he was about 11 yrs old; he secretly sent one of his spy bots out to explore the human city and she intercepted it. The two have been best friends and stayed in-touch with each other online ever since - April being unaware that Donnie isn't human.

Donnie knows of Lou Jitsu purely because he was Big Mama’s favorite champion in the history of the Battle Nexus - he idolizes him, having watched recordings of many of his fights, and dreams of one day fighting in the Battle Nexus himself (if Big Mama would allow that).

Leo & Mikey

Leo and Mikey were still rescued by Lou/Splinter and brought up in the NY sewers. Splinter felt extremely guilty for not managing to save the other two baby turtles and, for the first few years following the incident, spent much of his time searching for them. Once Leo was old enough, Splinter would start leaving him and Mikey in the Lair while he searched. He eventually gave up his search, presuming them both dead or lost for good, and resigned to keeping the remaining two as safe as possible - teaching them how to defend themselves and warning them never to leave the sewers unless he was with them.

Leo and Mikey were inseparable as kids - they would do everything together, refusing to even sleep in separate rooms until they were too big to fit in one bed anymore. Leo took his job as Mikey's big brother very seriously and always tried his best to protect him, even when they were simply playing games with each other. As they got older, though, the two brothers began to drift apart - Leo started to feel a little smothered; craving more freedom to do what he wanted when he wanted, without the older sibling responsibilities hanging over him 24/7. And Mikey started feeling like he couldn't go/do anything without his brother's judgement or approval, resenting the idea that he needed constant protection.

Finally, when he was about 13, Leo secretly snuck out of the lair one night to check out the city by himself and get a little taste of independence. After that one trip, it quickly became a habit and he soon began making regular “secret” trips into the city.

Somewhere along the way, his innocent quests for freedom and fun grew into opportunities to stir up some trouble - Leo eventually met and became involved with a group of yokai teens with whom he would pull pranks and play jokes on the city's human occupants (harmless ones...usually. They just enjoy causing a little mischief.)

Mikey, having to figure out other ways to keep himself occupied since his brother is usually by himself or busy with his new friends, has picked up a multitude of different skills and hobbies, trying absolutely everything he can get his hands on. His main hobby is spray-painting, which he uses to spruce any wall he can find with his own personal touch. By the time he's 13, much of underground New York has been covered by his handiwork. Mikey eventually finds out about Leo’s secret outings and follows him when he leaves one night - the two end up meeting April, who's never seen mutants before (having only talked to Donnie online and not seen his face) and promptly freaks out before realizing they're not dangerous. The three soon become friends, too, and April starts making plans to introduce the boys to Donnie - knowing he could use more friends besides S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. and herself.

The four brothers' fates finally collide with one another when an escapee from Draxum's lab - Mayhem - shows up out of the blue and catapults Mikey and Leo to the Hidden City, where they have an unexpected reunion with their eldest brother.

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futureman · 4 months

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you're a mean one, mr. miller

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: you and ellie decide the solution to joel's grinch-like approach to the holidays lies in finding him the perfect gift

warnings: jackson era, grumpy old man!joel, significant other!reader, fluff, mild angst, gift giving, christmas at the miller's, so many polaroids

word count: 3.8k

12 days of pedro masterlist - ty to @hellishjoel for organizing this project <3

The Miller household always gets a little tense around the holidays. When the days shorten and snow begins to fall, Joel throws himself into patrols and plans for winter-proofing Jackson, and it's all he'll talk about for months. It's obvious he does it on purpose.

Christmas is basically an unspoken no-no under his roof, and there might as well be a swear jar for the word if his reaction is any indication. He refuses to acknowledge it and only tolerates the day itself because he knows it makes you and Ellie happy.

You just wish it made him happy, too. You know it used to. Every year, Tommy regales stories about their Christmases in Austin as kids, and later with Sarah. Joel loved Christmas.

They used to visit the tree farm, pick the tallest, fullest tree they could fit in their living room, and decorate it the very same day. Their attic and even parts of their garage were home to lights and tinsel in every color you could think of, and ornaments Sarah brought home from art classes and the yearly holiday fair at school.

All of that changed after the outbreak. It wasn't just her passing that did it. It wasn't even the threat of death or worse lurking around every corner. It was time.

Joel just got used to life without it. After 22 years of missed holidays, he decided he didn't actually miss them at all. He couldn't afford to spare precious resources or energy on anything that wasn't necessary for survival. But that isn't the point of Christmas, is it?

You celebrate your loved ones and their joy. You celebrate life. Here in Jackson, he finally has all of that, but if Joel is anything, he's a stubborn man set in his ways. You can tell he's still resistant to the idea because he genuinely believes there are better uses for his time.

You can also tell he's afraid to let his guard down. You just haven't figured out a way to show him he doesn't have to be. No one's safety is guaranteed in the world you live in, but you're protected now. And that responsibility isn't solely on him anymore.

If you could give him anything for Christmas this year, it would be peace. One day, even just a few hours of tensionless shoulders and a wrinkle-free brow would be a gift for all of you. He deserves to enjoy something merry and cheerful again, just for the sake of it.

So, you ask the person who knows him best in the world for help.

"What do we think about getting Joel a Christmas gift this year?"

Ellie glances up from her guitar with the most incredulous look you've ever seen on her face.

"Depends. Do you have a death wish?" she jokes, draping her arm over her instrument so she's sitting more comfortably. She's settling in—you both know this is about to be a painful conversation.

"No, but—," you sigh, leaning against the door behind you. It's still chilled, even through your coat, from when you barged into the shed and interrupted her practice. "I don't know. He wouldn't make that big of a deal, would he? It doesn't have to be anything flashy, just something small. Something nice."

"So, you wanna get Joel something nice for a holiday he hates? That makes total sense," she says, rolling her eyes.

You don't appreciate the sarcasm, but you expected it. She knows as well as you do that Joel won't be thrilled by the gesture, if he even accepts it.

"El, come on. I could really use your help here," you try to appeal to the part of her that usually can't say no to you, and thankfully she's starting to cave. "If there's anyone who can come up with a present Joel will actually like, it's you."

She sighs. Her fingers drum an arrhythmic beat on the wood grain while she thinks, a habit she must've picked up from Joel.

"Look, Joel's not really a 'thing' kinda guy," she replies, and she's probably right. He's never been the kind of guy who has physical attachments. "When's the last time he actually gave a shit when something broke or got lost? Even his watch is broken."

"Yeah, but that's different. You know it's different," you counter softly. But you can see the point she's trying to make. "Okay, so we don't get him a 'thing'."

She nods, waiting for you to offer another idea, but you're even more stumped than you were when you got here.

"Maybe you can draw him something?" you grimace, grasping at straws now.

"His house is full of shit I've drawn," she deadpans. "Plus, I thought this was an us gift. That sounds like a 'me doing all the work' gift."

You let out a frustrated groan, and your head thunks dully against the door. You knew this wasn't going to be an easy task, but you thought it would at least be possible. Joel's a complicated man—it's one of the things you love most about him—but his wants and needs are surprisingly simple.

He loves a home-cooked meal, especially meat and potatoes. He enjoys cold beers with Tommy on the porch during the summer and walking Ellie through complicated picking patterns when she's stuck on a song. He likes relaxing on the couch and watching old Westerns or cheesy action movies, and craves your body, soft and pliant, under his after a frustrating day on patrol.

But you want this to mean more than any of that. A special something that goes beyond the norm to loosen some of the springs that keep him wound up tight and constantly in motion.

You glance around Ellie's space as your hope begins to dwindle, and the corkboard above her bed catches your eye. It's always been there, covered in doodled-on scrap paper and photos of her family and friends, and you're positive you've seen it hundreds of times since you've been in Jackson. But this time, it gives you an idea. The idea.

"That Polaroid camera you found in Eugene's basement—the one in the library. Does it work?"

Ellie's brows furrow at your sudden question. She clearly didn't expect it, but you're hoping she'll be on board once she finally catches on.

"Uhh, yeah, Cat and I were messing around with it the other day. Worked pretty well for us," she replies hesitantly, pointing at the entertainment console next to you. "It's next to the PlayStation."

Humming in response, you squat in front of the shelf to inspect it. It's in great condition, even better than you expected. Even the flash button lights up and whirs just like you remember.

Before she can protest, you whip around and snap an extremely candid, brightly lit photo of her. If the look on her face is the same one you just caught on film, then you're already off to a great start.

"Dude, what the fuck? What was that for?" she groans in annoyance, blinking the bright spots out of her vision.

"A scrapbook," you grin. "For Joel."

She's still glaring at you as she rubs her eyes, but she bites back whatever retort she was about to say. You watch her expectantly as she chews on the idea, relief blooming in your chest when she finally nods.

"I guess that could work," she says slowly, still thinking over the logistics in her head. But then she frowns. "When exactly did you plan on taking all those photos? Not to be a downer, but Christmas is in like, a week."

Damn, she's right again. It'll be hell in a handbasket to fill an entire scrapbook in that amount of time, and even if you manage it, it'll be a half-assed attempt at best.

No, if you're going to do this, then you're going to do it right. No rushed or slapstick presents for the man who already hates Christmas—Joel deserves better than that.

"What if we let Joel do his bah-humbug thing one last time? That's probably his idea of a perfect gift, anyway. Then next year, it'll be this," you hand her the fully-developed Polaroid.

It shows Ellie hugging the guitar Joel made for her, but there's no sign of the shocked annoyance that followed the camera flash. Instead, she's smiling. She has that rare, unguarded expression on her face, the one reserved only for people she trusts. It's a tender moment of peace, forever frozen in time.

She looks up at you, and you can see it in her eyes. She gets it, now.

"You do realize it's still a 'thing' present though, right?" she interjects playfully, and you have to resist the urge to grab the wood polishing cloth on the table next to you and swat her with it.

"Yeah, but it's a sappy thing. Admit it, Joel's a huge sap and you know it. You said it yourself, his house is basically a glorified fridge with your art magnetized to the walls."

She rolls her eyes again, but you can see the smile tugging at her lips. She knows it's true.

"So, you'll help me?" you ask, daring to hope that she'll agree.

"As long as you don't pull this shit again, I'll do whatever you want," she lifts the Polaroid, shooting you a dirty, but affectionate look before handing it back to you.

A grin breaks out across your face, and you bolt across the room to hug her awkwardly around the instrument still sitting in her lap. She places it down so she can wrap her arms around you properly.

Physical affection has never really been Ellie's thing but if you catch her at the right moment on the right day, you might get lucky. Today, you do.

"So, when do we get started?" she asks, pulling away.

"Right now," you reply, unable to contain your excitement. For the first time in over two decades, Joel Miller might actually have a merry Christmas, and that's something to celebrate.

"Now?" she gapes at you, looking over her shoulder longingly at her guitar as you drag her out of the shed. She barely has enough time to grab a coat before you're out in the cold with nothing but each other, a camera, and a plan.

"Now."

ONE YEAR LATER

Jackson in the spring is one of the most beautiful things you've ever seen, even among your memories of the world pre-outbreak. Snow remains on the mountain peaks in the distance, but the foliage below blooms with the promise of warmer weather. Somehow, you managed to capture it all—fresh flowers in the shop windows, friends and neighbors shedding their coats and congregating in the streets, and the post-winter excitement that spreads more and more with each sunny day.

You hid the stack of photographs in an empty jumbo box of tampons in the hall closet, positive they’d be safe from Joel’s prying eyes while you and Ellie continued your mission.

In the summer, two new foals were born, and Ellie and Maria spent almost every day at the stables to help out where they could. They even named them—Shimmer was Maria’s choice, and Ellie named the other Callus just to piss off Joel. Not only did it work, but it resulted in some of the cutest pictures of the season.

Joel and Tommy built a porch swing for Maria and their rambunctious toddler and spent countless balmy nights drinking Tommy's extra-strength whiskey and shooting the shit. They even broke out their guitars every so often and managed to bully Ellie into playing with them once or twice. You caught that on camera, too.

Slowly but surely, the memory box filled up, and the photos were transferred to a scrapbook you and Ellie made yourselves—with a little local help. One of the school teachers happened to be a former librarian with a bookbinding hobby, and graciously gave you a treasure trove of old, tattered books that were perfect for your project.

By autumn, everything was falling into place. Ellie adorned those pages with painted leaves in shades of red, orange, and yellow to complement the photos you took at the town’s annual Harvest Festival and Thanksgiving potluck. You hopped around from booth to booth, table to table, and thanked your lucky stars that Eugene was a hoarder and held onto every pack of film he found over the years.

Now, it's the night before Christmas and you have a single shot left. One last photo intended for the final page, but you can’t think of anything you haven’t already documented. Looking around Tommy’s living room, there are plenty of moments you’d love to capture, and yet none of them feel like the moment.

How the Grinch Stole Christmas plays in the background while you sit on their couch, curled into Joel’s side with Ellie’s head on your lap, but you’re barely paying attention, still lost in your thoughts. Joel isn’t paying attention, either—he was unsurprisingly averse to the movie to begin with—so when you don’t laugh along with everyone else at the Grinch’s antics, he immediately knows something’s up. He kisses your temple, careful not to jostle Ellie.

“What’s got you so in your head you’re not even laughin’ at Jim Carrey? I thought you loved this movie,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear. His familiar Southern twang somehow warms you up more than the fireplace crackling next to the television.

“I do. I think I’m just getting a little sleepy, is all,” you reply softly, sagging into him. “Winter dance prep sucked this week. It’s like everyone conveniently forgot they volunteered to help.”

He nods, mumbling an apology into your hair.

“Guess that makes sense. All that runnin’ around you’ve been doing with that camera of yours probably ain’t helpin’ either,” he says offhandedly, and your brows furrow in response.

It’s not the first time he’s mentioned your sudden interest in photography, but with his gift sitting less than 10 feet away under Tommy and Maria’s Christmas tree, it seems more than a little suspicious. You catch Ellie glancing up at you in your peripheral, and you meet her gaze as discreetly as you can.

“Yeah, maybe,” you laugh it off, hoping it doesn’t sound as tense to Joel’s ears as it does to yours.

“What are you doin’ with all of those photos anyway? I swear, you take ‘em and then they disappear into thin air,” he presses on, none the wiser.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you joke, shaking your head as if that’ll shake off all of his incoming questions. But it doesn’t work nearly as well as you hoped.

“Y’know, I was wonderin’ that myself,” Tommy interjects from the recliner to your right. “You’ve been takin’ photo after photo for almost a year, and I don’t think I’ve seen a single one.”

Maria scoffs next to him, coming to the rescue before you’re forced to come up with a believable explanation.

“Mind your own damn business,” she smacks him in the chest, then shoots you a sympathetic look.

You asked for her help not long after you and Ellie started planning Joel’s gift, so she knows how important this is. The last thing she’s going to do is let her husband’s need to stir the pot ruin it. But Tommy’s not the type of guy to give in that easily.

“I’m just sayin’, might be nice take a look at ‘em. You probably got some good ones of the kids in there, ‘specially from birthdays and holidays—,” he manages to get out before Ellie cuts him off.

“Can you guys have this conversation somewhere else? Some of us are actually trying to watch the movie,” she sits up from her spot on your lap to glare in his direction.

Then, Tommy abruptly stands like something just occurred to him and strides across the room to the mantle above the fireplace—right where you set the camera down earlier. Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Hold up. This thing’s still got one shot left, don’t it?” he asks excitedly, and you’re not sure how to shut him down without drawing too much attention to yourself or sounding mildly hysterical.

“Well, yeah, but—“

“Oh shit, s’got a timer and everythin’,” he continues, fiddling with its limited settings. He turns back towards the rest of the group and holds up the camera with a grin. “C’mon, everybody get together. We’re takin’ our first official Christmas card photo.”

“But, Tommy—,” you try again, but you’re drowned out by Joel’s sad attempt to leave the room.

“Look, I said I’d watch the movie, but I sure as hell didn’t agree to take a damn Christmas photo,” he grumbles, moving to stand, but you latch onto his flannel before he gets too far. He softens at your downtrodden expression and settles back in.

“Just to be clear, m’doin this for her, not for you,” he amends his previous statement gruffly, throwing an arm around your shoulder. You kiss his cheek gratefully, and Ellie pretends to gag as she shuffles to sit between your legs.

“Whatever you say, big brother. All you gotta do is sit there and look pretty. Think you can handle that?” Tommy teases him, making one final adjustment to the camera's placement. “Alright y’all, here we go.”

He sets the timer, then runs to the couch, squishing into the only available spot between Maria and an armrest. Everyone huddles together with varying levels of smiles and grimaces on their faces while you wait for the camera to go off. Except, it doesn't.

“Wait, how long did you set the timer for?” you peer around Maria to see Tommy looking genuinely dumbfounded.

“…Does it not just go 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, shoot?” he asks sheepishly.

"Oh my god, are you kidding me?" Ellie groans, leaning back against you, and the entire couch bursts out laughing.

And in that moment, the flash goes off.

Yeah, this is the one.

The photo in your hands feels like the culmination of every memory you made and preserved in the past year. Five faces—and one tiny sleeping one—look up at you, fully developed and as happy as you've ever seen them.

Tommy and Maria sit side by side with their son in her lap, their heads thrown back in laughter. Next to them, Ellie sits between your legs, mid-knee slap, as you cackle with your chin resting on top of her head.

And then there's Joel, grinning from ear to ear as he looks on at the family he's fought so hard to protect. The family that's safe and sound, and enjoying an ordinarily special day, just for the sake of it. You can only hope that a book full of photos and everything it represents will be enough to convince him once and for all that it's the truth.

As you slide the final Polaroid into place, Joel sidles up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist.

"What's all this?" he watches curiously as you close the book and swipe your hand lovingly across the cover. Then, you pick it up and turn in his embrace, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

"A gift," you reply carefully, hugging it to your chest.

You glance over to where Ellie's still sitting in the living room, but she shakes her head and offers you a small smile, her delicate way of telling you that you're on your own. You take a deep breath before continuing.

"It's a Christmas present from me and Ellie," you explain, hoping to convey even a fraction of what this means to you. "Look, we know this isn’t necessarily your favorite day, but...we still wanted to do something nice for you."

He nods, his expression frustratingly unreadable. But then he does something unexpected.

"Y'gonna keep huggin' it or are you gonna show it to me?" he drawls jokingly, and your brows shoot up in shock.

"You wanna see it?"

His face falls, and you immediately feel terrible at the brief wave of hurt that crosses his features. You didn't mean to sound so surprised, but you didn't anticipate this easy acceptance.

"'Course I do. The two of you spent a whole year workin' on this thing, why wouldn't I?"

That grin you know he loves lights up your entire face, and you turn to place his gift back on the counter. Flipping to the first page, you step aside and let him explore it for himself.

He takes in each moment of each season slowly, running his fingers across Ellie's doodles between photos and in the margins. Spring is framed by butterflies that you're somehow just realizing are painted in all of Sarah's favorite colors.

Ellie added so many painstaking details you'd never talked about. You're not even sure how she knew something like that, but you're grateful it's there. Joel notices it too, and reaches down to take your hand, gripping it tightly for the rest of the book.

He's silent as flips through summer and fall, and when he finally reaches winter, you feel him begin to tremble beside you.

The last page sits open in front of you, the photo from earlier flanked on either side by notes from you and Ellie. As he reads, then rereads them, you can see the cogs turning. He's starting to understand why you did this—and how something as simple as a photograph isn't just a look back on a life well-lived. It's a reminder to keep living.

“This is…,” his brows furrow as he tries to find the words to express the conflicting thoughts racing through his head.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t get you anything," is what he ultimately settles on, but when he looks up at you, his eyes are wet. You immediately drop his hand to cup his cheeks.

"You didn't need to. I have everything I've ever wanted right here," you tell him gently, brushing away the tears threatening to fall.

You glance over at the familiar faces in the living room, the same ones looking up at you from the page below, and he follows your gaze. The tension in his body begins to bleed away the longer he watches them, and you learn the wrinkle in his brow isn't actually the permanent fixture it always seemed to be.

He reaches up to cover one of your hands with his own, and you can feel his heart racing through his fingertips. In the back of your mind, you wonder if this is the moment it happens. If his heart grew three sizes bigger today, and if he's finally ready to give himself the gift of peace.

“Merry Christmas, Joel Miller," you whisper, kissing him deeply as the sweet voice of Cindy Lou Who brings the movie credits rolling in the distance to a close.

thanks for reading and happy holidays!

dividers by @saradika-graphics

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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calisources · 1 month

Text

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences here were taken from different media about possessive love, the thrill of the chase, banter, and competition regarding one's affection. Some have foul language so please beware but most are fun, banter, possessive fun. All of these are made for roleplay purposes. Change names, pronouns, locations as you see fit.

I love you. You’re mine. I’ll kill any bastard who tries to take you from me.

I spend a quarter of every day inside you.

I have never said this to anyone before.

But the idea of you with child is the most insanely arousing thing I’ve ever imagined.

Your belly all swollen, your breasts heavy, the funny little way you would walk … I would worship you. I would take care of your every need. And everyone would know that I’d made you that way, that you belonged to me.

You want to be free. You also want to be mine. You can't be both.

We can't possess one another.

Just because I can't have you right now, doesn't mean I'm okay with him having you.

I will be good to you, Myst. Please, I promise.

You are mine. And I protect what’s mine.

Of course I won't go alone. I shall take my maid.

No.You will take me.

The purpose of a knight is to protect. Why won’t you let him do his job to me?

I want you all to myself.

I can’t explain to you the joy I feel knowing it’s all mine. That you are all mine, that your body is all mine.

There is something in me that wakes up when I want something, a possession.

God knows he deserved you more than I do.

Listen well, for you belong to me.

Good grief, you’re such an adorably greedy person.

And when you fall in love with her just keep in mind that she’s mine.

She’s more than you could handle, anyway.

That almost sounds like a challenge.

I don’t need your permission to do anything.

Your hands will touch me and no one else, Meadow. That is final.

You chase off every man that’s ever been interested, and you do it without even trying.

You reject every suitor and yet, you keep entertaining me. I believe you want me too, and you are dying to be touched.

I don't own you, you just belong to me.

You’re my gold, your cunt is my liquid gold.

I will have your mouth, you will give it to me. Then I will have your spirit, Circe. I will own it. Always.

By the gods you have never been more beautiful than you are right now, spread before me, wrapped in my wool.

Once I take you, you are mine. My woman. No other man can have you.

I do not belong to you, or to anyone else. I will talk to whomever I want, whenever I want.

Not if it’s some ass who thinks he can put his hands on you.

You didn’t have a problem with me acting like a caveman last night.

When it comes to you… I don’t like to share.

Most men prefer to do the eating.

Do you know what passion is?

Most people think it only means desire. Arousal. Wild abandon. But that’s not all. The word derives from the Latin. It means suffering. Submission. Pain and pleasure, Nikki. Passion.

You’re wearing my colors, love.

I’m going to put you on your knees, Ruby. You’re going to hate how much you love it.

He is my king, he is my warrior, he is my husband and I am proud to say above all… he is mine.

You have rare beauty the like I have never seen but you will be more beautiful heavy with my seed.

You are my golden queen. You are my tigress. You are my Circe.

Never will I allow your gold to be taken from me. Never. Understand this, Circe, and never forget.

Maybe I fell in love with a version of him that didn't exist.

I would have you right here if you would let me. Fear you? I exalt you.

You could burn me a thousand times, and I would still want you for my own.

Everything has a price. The price, however, isn't always money.

You’re my scariest hell, You’re my perfect paradise.

Well, I admit my crib is pretty sweet. But a gold cage is still a cage, Harry.

I intend to the last.

If I win, then you shall be mine. Tonight.

You are so sure of yourself.

The game is simple. The women run, the men chase. If you catch the one with your color. . .well, that’s up to you.

But women have been running all their lives, most men don’t catch that easily.

We are in a maze, lost, and your hand is up my skirt.

Aye, but I don’t hear any complaints. The maze will hide our secret.

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #posessive meme #competition meme

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withleeknow · 16 days

Text

wishful thinking. (06)

chapter six: like lightning

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; mentions of sex, swearing, this chapter is also pretty mild in terms of warnings? the angst begins here tho !!! could've been more edited but yk lol word count: 4.9k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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If I never laid eyes on you Would I feel something missing? If you never laid eyes on me Would you know something’s gone?

Happy Accidents - Saint Motel

You don't know if you've ever changed, even once, in your life.

You feel like you're still 8 years old and your best friend is the neighbors' elderly dog that they let you play with every weekend. She's a golden retriever, and she would stand taller than you if she could walk on two legs.

You're still 16 and your happiest memories are of a boy who doesn't love you back. But all of your friends say that he does, and oh, how much you want to believe that their words are true.

And at the same time, you're 22, just a few months shy of 23, sitting in front of a canvas showcasing your own bleeding heart. Your growing pains, laid out by acrylics and gentle brush strokes. You liken yourself to the figure in front of you, the one that's standing in the corner of your painting, overlooking a sea of blues and grays. There's a piece of you that's left behind in everything you create. Sometimes, you leave it there on purpose, a memorabilia for your future self to look back at fondly.

You think of everything in your life that has changed and how you're the only thing that has managed to remain the same. The dog eventually dies and the boy moves on with his life. The passage of time is relentless but you seem to be the only one who can't keep up with the tireless flow. You're always running in place, always stuck behind in the end. There's a past in which you still live, one where you don’t know if you'll ever make it out of.

You think of home and the search comes up empty, like it does every single time. Home isn't here inside of your own body, nor is it within the four walls of your childhood bedroom. You've never felt like you belong anywhere. Everything is always fluctuating, constantly and unabatingly spinning and spinning and spinning when all you're asking for is a minute to stand still and catch your breath.

Home isn't always a place, that much you know. Maybe home isn't even a thing that you build but something that you find, in a person or a touch, in a feeling or a scent. Perhaps that's the problem, isn't it? Home is something you find, and you've spent your whole life searching.

People say your early 20s are supposed to be the best years of your life but that sentiment has never resonated with you. These are the years that you spend in excruciating limbo, where you're not an adult but you're forced to be anyway. The years where loneliness is an invisible friend that shadows you day in and day out, a presence you don’t want around but can't seem to shake off, a haunting that's far too gentle to be considered such. These aren't your best years; these are your saddest years.

None of it helps build character. It just hurts.

It hurts. You accept that it hurts. You keep on living, always accompanied by the hurt. At some point, it stops bothering you as much; you've grown numb to the way it stings, but it doesn't mean that there aren't days where you're pierced with a sudden and debilitating hollowness in your chest.

Here you are, half an adult but still a child, wondering if you know anything more than you did when you were 8.

You just want to go home, but you don't know where home is.

You look at the small pool of yellow acrylic paint that's been sitting on your palette for a while now. It feels so out of place among the other insipid tones, even though that has always been your intention - a burst of life amidst a sea of blues.

You don't think about anything in particular when your fingers pick up a brush and dab it in a generous amount of paint. It doesn't make much sense, but it feels right. You don't think about anything in particular when your hand smears the color on the cavas, on the figure, a startling stroke right in the center of her chest, contrasting all of the dulls and darkness surrounding.

Though, you do think of him afterward. Of him and daffodils and spring.

The rest of your friends are already present when you and Felix show up at Chan and Jess' shared apartment, holding boxes of pizzas and a case of beer.

It's a cute tradition that was started last year, when all of you promised to gather the final Friday of every month to have a cozy little dinner party among yourselves. It usually takes place at Chan's, since his apartment is bigger than the rest of yours, and because him and Jess are practically the parents of the group anyway.

The second you step into the living room, a chorus of groans erupts all around. Hyunjin and Jisung are the most vocal petulant babies, pouting from their seats, complaining that you two took too long and that they've been starving for hours.

You and Felix shrug off your jackets before delegating the tasks to the lot of them, since you were in charge of picking up the food for tonight. Minho and Seungmin grabbing plates and cups from the kitchen for Changbin and Jeongin to set on Chan's large coffee table.

You opt for a seat on the carpeted floor, next to the spot on the cream-colored couch where Minho left his phone, feeling more comfortable this way since the table is a little low for your liking. They come back a few minutes later, and you smile up at Minho when he reclaims his seat on the couch.

"Hi." He smiles back, smoothing a hand over your hair in greeting.

"Hi," you say. Even a touch so simple warms you up from the outside chill you were in mere minutes ago. No one else notices his lingering hand on you, or it's just such a you and Minho thing to be mildly affectionate with each other that the others don't care to comment on anymore.

You all fall into easy conversation soon after everyone starts digging in, chatting amongst yourselves as you always do. You and Hyunjin lament about your respective projects, reiterating the frustration that you've already expressed through your texts for the zillionth time. Chan and Jess nag Jeongin about introducing his girlfriend to the group, to which the younger one responds with an exaggerated groan as one would when their parents ask about grandchildren, though he does placate them by promising to bring her along the next time there's a party.

You don't care enough to tune into Minho's conversation with Changbin and Felix about the new gym they started going to. You do, however, catch Changbin's attempt to tease Minho. A playful scoff, followed by, "Minho lost his abs ages ago."

Your response is automatic and therefore, it doesn't warrant much thought from you before the words are tumbling out of your mouth. "No, he has abs. They're still there."

You don't recognize the weight of your words until you notice all chatter has halted, and you look up to find all eyes on you.

"How do you know that?" Jeongin is the one to voice everyone's collective thought, puzzled, a little surprised.

"Yeah, isn't Minho notoriously weird about that stuff?" Felix adds.

You blink in a daze, and you don't know if your face is reddening because of embarrassment but you sure hope that it isn't. The mouthful you're munching on gives you a reason to stall, your reputation of being a slow eater makes the excuse more believable when you don't answer right away.

As subtly as you can, you nudge Minho's leg with an elbow. He just laughs, though you're pretty certain he can tell that you're internally freaking out.

"I was walking her home from class a few weeks ago and we got caught in the rain. She let me come up to her apartment to change," he says calmly.

You remember that day. He was walking you from campus back to yours, so that part was true. But it didn't start raining until you were both sheltered in the comfort of your apartment, with him on top of you as he fucked you nice and slow on the couch. You didn't know when the rain stopped, but it must've been some time during your shower that you offered him to join with the innocent intention of cleaning yourselves up and saving water, only for him to end up on his knees with his face between your legs and his fingers buried deep inside of you. He'd made you come three times that afternoon, then took you out to udon afterward.

"And you just... changed in the middle of her living room or something?" Changbin asks, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Minho shrugs, completely nonchalant. "Yeah."

The silence in the room persists as you swallow down the bite. Their stare lingers on the pair of you, then they turn to look at each other like they're speaking a secret language that you're unfamiliar with. Why is it such a scandalous thing for you to see Minho without a shirt? You've seen your other guy friends shirtless numerous times before, when all of you are hanging out in someone's apartment on particularly hot summer days.

Though, they aren't wrong. The arrangement between the two of you muddles your memory, but you don't really remember seeing Minho flaunt his bare skin often before.

You're about to squeeze out a weak response to aid Minho's explanation, but your friends just start nodding along in acceptance.

"I guess that makes sense. If there's anyone who would see him naked, it'd be Y/N."

This definitely makes you blush. Minho laughs again.

"What?! I did not see him naked."

Well, look who's a liar now?

"Y/N, and whoever he's banging," Hyunjin supplies, which seriously doesn't help the flush on your cheeks at all.

"Why would it make sense that it was me?" you protest.

"Because you're his favorite." Jess is the one who answers, to which the rest of your friends all hum in agreement. The way they're reacting makes it seem as though it's just a fact of life that you're Minho's favorite, and that whatever boundary he lets you cross or whatever rule he breaks when it comes to you is simply a result of this fact.

Not once has it crossed your mind that everyone might have a favorite person in the group, but now that it's been said, you quickly conclude that Minho would be your favorite too (your secret arrangement notwithstanding.)

You glance up at him, seeking reassurance with a curious blink. "Am I?"

"You're alright," is what he tells you in lieu of a confirmation. "The least annoying one."

And you don't know if it's the way he speaks ever so gently when he looks at you or how his lips curl up in a knowing smile that sends a tingle of warmth down your spine. Or perhaps the culprit is the softness in his sharp eyes that makes you a little dizzy, makes a pair of butterflies go rampant at the pit of your stomach, as though they're prepared to soar when the ardor of spring begins to thaw the winter frost.

Chan laughs, "That's practically a declaration of love from Minho."

At one point, Hyunjin looks around and comments with a mouth stuffed full of pizza, "Wow. We are literally perfectly divided."

All eyes fall onto him, clearly no one is catching his drift.

Hyunjin swallows his food and washes it down with a big sip of beer before gesturing vaguely at the group, "All the singles are on the floor."

You look at the people on the couch while they stare back at you, Hyunjin, Seungmin, Changbin and Felix sitting comfortably on the fluffy rug.

"I'm single," Jisung says, pointing at himself. "Should I get on the floor?"

"No, you're not," Seungmin says flatly.

"What?"

"Didn't you get back together with your ex girlfriend?"

"What?" Jisung practically squeaks out. "Man, what are you talking about?"

"I live with you. We literally share a wall. I heard you last week. The whole two hours."

“You were home?!”

"My shoes were by the door. I had dishes in the sink. I went to the bathroom to pee several times."

Jisung gasps, growing redder and redder as more eyes start diverting their attention to him. He opens his mouth only to promptly close it as he thinks of what to say. Repeats the process a few times. "We didn't hear you. You never said anything," is what he settles on stuttering out. Then, "Why didn't you bring it up? Why do you have to air out my dirty laundry now?"

"It's more entertaining to embarrass you in front of everyone." Seungmin shrugs, and ignores Changbin's subsequent comment calling him a pervert. "And no wonder you didn't hear me. You were going at it like you were rabid."

"Wait," Jeongin says, "when did you even get back together?"

"We didn't. It's complicated! We're just… y'know…"

When Jisung trails off sheepishly with the bright blush still apparent on his cheeks, Minho cuts in, finishing his sentence bluntly, "Boning."

You send him a glare from where you're seated on the floor, to which he just gives you a lopsided grin and nudges you with his knee.

While everyone else is busy bombarding Jisung with questions on potentially getting back together with his ex, Minho quietly slithers down to the floor like a stealthy cat, squeezing himself into the space between you and Felix. Minho rests his arm behind you on the couch, leaving it stretched out comfortably on the cushions, just lightly touching your back. Usually, when you two are alone, he would have his arm wrapped around your shoulders so he could pull you close, until you're safely tucked into his side where you would remain on most of your evenings spent together. But for now, he leaves his arm where it grazes you only slightly as you sit among friends, with the exception of his hand reaching to play with your hair once in a while.

"Hey!" Hyunjin practically screeches, pointing at Minho when he notices. "Why did you get on the floor?"

"What?" Minho asks innocently. "You said the singles are on the floor."

"You're not single. You have a girlfriend."

"I don't have a girlfriend."

Hyunjin scoffs. "You have a sneaky link."

"Hmm, not the same as a girlfriend."

"Why can't you just tell us, man? There's gotta be something else you're hiding."

You stay quiet, still as a statue while they bicker back and forth, like the mere motion of your breathing could give your secret away. You don't doubt that Hyunjin has been hounding Minho about his new discovery ever since the night of Yeonjun's party, but Minho seems unfazed about it, evading Hyunjin's badgering with a calm composure that's distinct to no one else.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom, quickly shuffling away as if your absence at the table would help make things seem less suspicious for Minho. You splash some water on your face, wait for a while until it feels like an appropriate amount of time has passed for them to have already moved onto another topic. You are, quite literally, hiding from your own friends.

Moments later, you re-enter the room with gentle footsteps and a certain tension in your spine, but you soon grow relieved when you find that the conversation has somehow shifted to Seungmin and his on-again off-again not-girlfriend, about which he just seems kinda sad for a few seconds before he's telling everyone to fuck off and mind their own business, always quick to conceal any and all emotions. He's similar to you in that way, you suppose.

You sit back down next to Minho who's still on the floor, though you put a little distance between your bodies that wasn't previously there. You don't know if it's enough to be noticeable, but he does look at you for a brief moment before leaning a bit closer, asking softly so only you could hear, "Walk you home later?"

You embark on the familiar route from Chan and Jess' place back to yours. It's not that late, barely even 10PM on a Friday night, but the streets are almost deserted. Barely anyone tipsily roaming the streets with their friends in tow; just a few cars passing by every now and then. You relish in the peace and quiet, sighing softly to yourself as you walk in the crisp evening air.

Minho takes casual strides next to you, letting his hand brush against your hand for a while until his pinky finds its way around yours. The tranquility of the city is nice, but being with Minho is even nicer.

Just some of the stars have come out to play, though the way they gleam and glimmer is enough to make up for what they lack in numbers. It's easy to get lost tonight, when you're looking up at an infinite sky with little light and only Minho's pinky hooked around yours like an anchor to guide you back home.

In the grand scheme of things, you're just a speck of dust. You're young and confused - 23 is still a child in your mind - and most of all, you're insignificant. Not in a self-disparaging way. Maybe in the literal sense of the word would be more accurate.

You are insignificant, merely a face among billions of faces. In a crowd of hundreds, or maybe only dozens, you're not someone who would stand out and be picked. Sometimes, it's nice to blend right in and hide in plain sight; you don't particularly enjoy being under the spotlight anyway. But sometimes, it's lonely to be just a drop in the ocean. You could sink right to the bottom and no one would even notice.

Maybe that's why you enjoy being around Minho so much. He makes you feel safe, and seen, like you matter in the end. He makes you feel like if you were to disappear one day, there's a person out there who would go to the ends of the earth in search of you.

You hope that he sticks around, that he wants to be in your life for as long as you can have him. You're not sure what it is that makes you sick to your stomach at the mere thought of losing him; perhaps because you know you will never come across another one like Minho in your lifetime. There's nobody else that can make you feel the same way he does.

I don't want to lose you. You're the only good thing I have.

An intersection, two left turns, and your apartment building comes into view all too soon.

"Wanna come up?" you ask bashfully. The streetlights do a good job at masking your light flush.

"I can't tonight," he says, a little apologetic. "I'm going to my parents' house first thing in the morning."

"Oh." You're disappointed for no specific reason. Sure, you were practically glued to Minho's side for most of the evening, but you were also surrounded by the very friends who are unaware that you two have been sneaking around behind their backs. It's been about over a week since you hung out with him alone, which isn't that long ago by any means, but still. "For the weekend?"

"Yeah, just for the weekend."

There's a selfish urge, just a tiny one, to ask him to come for a while anyway, maybe only twenty minutes or so, but you swallow it down and wave it away. "Okay, have fun. Say hi to the cats for me."

"I'll send you pictures," he tells you. "They miss you, y'know."

You smile at that, laughing a little. "They've met me once."

Last fall, you and your friends all took a weekend trip to Minho's childhood home for his birthday. It was fun for you, though you're not sure how much his parents actually enjoyed it, considering they had to house and feed almost a dozen kids that weren't their own. You remember the cats, of course you do, and how Soonie took an immediate liking to you, how he mostly hovered around your personal space whenever you were in the house.

"No, seriously. My mom says Soonie meows your name once a day."

You throw him an eye roll, accompanied by a light punch to his shoulder.

"Goodnight, Min," you say. "Text me when you get home."

"Okay."

Even after that, the two of you still stay rooted to the spot, your pinkies interlocked. Minho's gaze doesn't leave your face, and for a moment there, it feels like most of the stars didn't show up because they all left to gather in his eyes.

"Can't go up if you don't let me,” you quip, glancing at your hands, knowing full well that you can easily retract your finger if you want to.

His eyes stay on you for just a moment longer. "Let me kiss you," he asks softly, releasing your pinky only to take your hand in his, tugging you closer until you’re all up in each other's personal space.

You blink at him, your heart caught somewhere in your throat. You're close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off his body. "Min…" you murmur but you don't actually know what you want to tell him, so the nickname hangs like an idle lantern in the bubble of space between your faces.

"Just a goodnight kiss."

"Friends don't kiss," you say meekly, reminiscent of your conversation over a week ago.

"Friends don't have sex either," he repeats.

"But we’re not having sex."

"You asked me to come upstairs. What do you think we would've done?"

And he's right. If he had agreed to come up, then you would probably be pressed against the door right now, with his hands trailing down your body, removing every article of clothing they find, his lips kissing every exposed patch of skin along the way.

Minho would've been kissing you regardless - anywhere and everywhere, and you wouldn't have had any qualms about it like you do right now, even though you want to kiss him too.

"Maybe I wanted you to come up to make you peel tangerines for me while we watch a movie."

He says nothing to that, only grins amusedly and leans in to nudge his nose against yours. It's so cute that you can't help but mirror the quirk of his lips. You're sure that no one else gets to see this version of him - the one that boops you like an overly affectionate cat and smiles like you're his favorite person not just in your little group, but in the whole wide world.

"I haven't kissed you all week," he murmurs, his voice so gentle in the quietude that surrounds you. "You were right there but I couldn't kiss you all night."

You lose yourself in his brown eyes, the same eyes that hold nothing but sincerity and fondness for you. The stars here are brighter than the ones overhead.

"Let me kiss you," Minho says, "please?"

You cave. Of course you do.

The first glide of his lips over yours has you weak in the knees. Something sinks in as he kisses you deeply. Under the streetlights, not surrounded by your familiar four walls like a long lost secret but out in the open where anyone can see, even though there's not a single soul around.

Again, tears well up behind your eyelids the same way they did that morning you woke up next to him for the first time. You don't know what it is, never felt this way around anyone except for him. It's akin to the feeling of finally coming home after being away for a long time, or at least that's what you think that's how it would feel.

You don't want to be caged in by the walls of your own making. You want to be seen, and you want to be seen by him. You're the remnants of snow and ice stuck between cracks in the sidewalk, and he is warmth. You're a mosaic of a daffodil garden caught in an endless winter, and he is spring. Minho is the brief but wonderful moment when cherry blossoms have yet to fall from their branches, but green leaves are already growing impatiently, resulting in the beautiful coexistence of pinks and greens if only just for a few days.

You let him kiss you until you're both out of breath, let him wrap his strong arms around your body and hold you like he could mend all of your broken pieces. Maybe he could. Maybe you'd like him to make you whole again.

When Minho pulls away, he doesn't stray very far. He puts enough distance between your faces so you can catch your breath. But even then, you have a hard time getting air back into your lungs. He's looking at you like he would pick the moon for you if you asked, like moving mountains is no more difficult than peeling tangerines for you whenever you get a craving.

The streetlights are dim, but the stars in his eyes are bright enough to tell you something that his words don't.

It hits you all at once, in a moment where even the wind is still, as if it's been reduced to a mere spectator, watching the two of you with bated breath on the sidelines. The tipping point can be something as simple as him asking - almost pleading - to kiss you goodnight with no ulterior motive, no other intention than because he wants to. As though it would kill him if he had to go another minute without kissing you.

You realize why he's the yellow to your sea of blues, why you're so happy every time you look at the bracelet on your wrist. You realize why you feel so safe around him, why he makes you experience emotions that no one else can. You realize why you don’t like hearing about Hana, or any other person in the same sentence as his name with the implication that he could be romantically involved with them.

You realize why you kissed him for the first time all those months ago, and it wasn't because you were sad and he just happened to be there and let you cry on his shoulder. The times that your friends would tell you how you and Minho would be perfect together - you wanted it to be true. You knew it was true - that he was someone you could love, the only person who's worth opening up to. You kissed him because you wanted to love him. You realize why it made you soar when he kissed you back, because you wanted him to love you too.

You realize why the thought of losing this friendship terrifies you. You realize why you asked him to stay that night after the party and the club, even though you had never allowed him to sleep over before. You realize why the other week you let him only kiss you and nothing else, and you realize why your heart is hammering in your chest this very second, why your knees are weak, why you can't really breathe here in the middle of an empty street under a moonless sky, just because he's looking at you as if it's not the sun that the earth revolves around but rather, it's a girl who has never learned how to say what she means.

You're good at leaving things alone; it's a skill that you've unintentionally mastered over the years. Nothing has to change if you let it remain the same. And yet, the one exception always seems to be Minho, and you're a mirror of yourself when you're with him. You like the version of you that only he's able to bring out, and he does it effortlessly every time. He pulls happiness out of you so easily that it's hard to ignore what you feel for him, hard to convince yourself that what you harbor for him is still only platonic affection.

It comes bubbling up to the surface without your permission. It strikes you the same way lightning splits open the whole sky on a cloudless night, abrupt and unmistakeable. Love isn't something that you've ever come close to, and you have always been an unbeliever when people answer "You just know," in response to "How do you know when it is love?"

Though as you stand right here, right now, you think maybe this is what love is supposed to look like, personified with starry eyes and shallow dimples when he smiles.

Before he leaves, Minho presses another sweet kiss to your cheek. You're still dazed by the dawning, overwhelmed by the recognition that you can only mutter a stupid "Bye," when he bids you good night.

As you watch him go, there's something else you realize, almost tragically, that you've always been a ruiner. You run away the moment shit starts getting too real, even if it means letting beautiful things slip through your fingers like running water.

Love just isn't something you've ever learned to hold.

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she-is-ovarit · 8 months

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Identifying as.

This is Rachel Dolezal, who legally changed her name to Nkechi Amare Diallo. Dolezal is a white woman who identifies as black and insists that she is transracial. Growing up, her religious white parents adopted four black babies, claiming that they "saved them from being aborted", and routinely delivered strict punishments to their kids including Dolezal. Dolezal does not seem to have a good relationship with her parents and, based on interviews, wanted to distance herself from them and distance herself from rural white culture.

"I've never questioned being a girl or woman, for example, but whiteness has always felt foreign to me, for as long as I can remember. I didn't choose to feel this way or be this way, I just am. What other choice is there than to be exactly who we are?"

She apparently "passed as black" for several years before her parents came out and said that she was white and is identifying as a black woman, and she was asked in a TV interview if she was African American and responded with "I don't understand the question". She taught Africana Studies at Eastern Washington University. She crafted a fake story in growing up as black and has argued that she experiences race-based related hate crimes. She darkens her skin and gets perms and started using hair products she observed her adopted black sibling to use. She lied about her father being black and lied that her black adopted brother was her son.

I hope that as details of Dolezal's story are read about, we are able to understand that tanning white skin does not make someone a black person, that blackface is wrong and racist. I hope we recognize that what makes someone black isn't a collection of racial stereotypes, isn't based on feeling a kinship with black people more than with white people, and that being black isn't based on not feeling a connection with white culture. I hope we understand that a black person cannot identify out of racial oppression, and that a white person cannot identify out of white privilege.

Jewel Shuping, age 38 now, was born healthy but dreamed of being blind since age 13. She stated her mother would tell stories about finding her walking down dark hallways at age 3, and mentioned that by age 6 the thought of being blind comforted her. When she was a teenager, Shuping bought a white cane and learned to read braille, becoming fluent in it by age 20.

She claims to have asked a psychologist to pour bleach in her eyes so she could fulfill her lifelong dream of being blind, and that the psychologist "understood her" and agreed to do so after giving her numbing eye drops to help with the pain (which was not ultimately helpful). She deliberately waited to seek medical attention so doctors were unable to save her eyesight. Gradually, over the course of six months, she became blind.

What Shuping has is considered a real mental health condition called Body Integrity Identity Disorder (BIID), a rare condition in which people who are born without disabilities believe with conviction that the should be disabled. There is another name for this in political activist circles, termed "transableism".

"I went blind on purpose, but I don't feel it was a choice."

Several other people with BIID are pretending to be paralyzed to use wheelchairs, with many not being driven to the point of causing harm to themselves to become disabled but instead living full lives faking being disabled.

I hope that as details of the stories of people pretending to be disabled are read about, we are able to understand that feeling like oneself should be disabled is an incredibly serious mental health condition and does not really mean that a person is "disabled inside". I hope we recognize that identifying as disabled does not make someone disabled, and that feeling a kinship with disabled people or a comfort in the thought of being disabled does not mean a person truly is or should become disabled. I hope we understand how people with mental health disorders claiming to be disabled can place further strain on resources and accommodations provided to disabled people. I hope we understand that inflicting pain, disfigurement, or physical altercations on healthy people to "help them physically match how they feel" is an inhumane way to treat a mental health condition.

Paul Wolscht, who changed his name to Stefonknee Wolscht, was married to a woman for over 20 years and fathered 7 children before deciding to live life identifying as a six year old little girl. Living as a six year old little girl allows Wolscht to escape depression and suicidal thoughts because Wolscht gets to now play - even when in jail in solitary confinement for nine days for an undisclosed reason.

“If I’m six-years-old, I don’t have to think about adult stuff.”

Wolscht still drives and drinks coffee, but does so feeling and identifying as a six year old.

Emile Ratelband, age 69, petitioned the courts to allow him to change his age to 20 years younger because he "does not feel" 69 years old. Ratelband has argued that he did not feel comfortable with his date of birth, that age 69 did not accurately reflect his mental state, and that at age 69 he experiences limits.

“When I’m 69, I am limited. If I’m 49, then I can buy a new house, drive a different car,” he said. “I can take up more work. When I’m on Tinder and it says I’m 69, I don’t get an answer. When I’m 49, with the face I have, I will be in a luxurious position.”

Ratelband even asserted that doctors have told him he has the body of a man 20 years younger, and he said that he was willing to renounce his right to a pension. He argues that if people are able to legally change their sex on documents, there is no reason why he should not be able to change his age.

I hope that as we read these stories of people identifying as a different age, we are able to understand that feeling like you are 20 years younger or 40 years younger does not really make you that age. I hope that we understand that even though identifying as a different age might help avoid suicidal thoughts, being discriminated against on dating apps, or denied resources, it does not really change biologically what is. I hope we understand that there are also broader societal and legal consequences to being able to legally change one's age. That an adult might identify as a certain age to trick kids into trusting them so they can sexually abuse them, and/or that allowing an adult to legally consider themselves a different age would make it easier for adult predators to gain legal access to kids in environments in which they would normally be socially and legally discouraged from being in.

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just-some-random-girl · 22 days

Text

See, this is what happens when people don't count important details in storytelling just because it's not being said outright, but rather shown through character expressions without dialogue. There were hints from the beginning that Stella was always meant to be a bad person and an obstacle to Stolas' feelings for Blitzø.

Don't believe me? Watch Loo Loo Land again with more open ears and eyes. Stella is shown throwing stuff at Stolas, including his sentient plants which he values highly and she was likely aware of that. That imp butler she threw at him means she not only abuses Stolas, but her own servants too, especially those of a particular lower class race.

Octavia's expressions here imply that this isn't an isolated incident either. That's the look of a girl who's heard this same type of arguing from her parents everyday. With how annoyed she looks, Stolas and Stella might as well have been fighting like this for years. It'd be more surprising if they didn't.

Octavia's lack of a reaction to her mom throwing a plant that almost hit her implies that this is far from the first time Stella has thrown things around the house. That is a concerning thing to get used to. Stella is also heard yelling about Stolas sleeping with an IMP, in THEIR bed. Notice the emphasis on "imp" and "our" bed. Even Stolas' only response to that is "I didn't have time to go to a motel!" It's pretty clear here that Stella is more concerned about about Stolas cheating on her with an imp specifically and ruining her reputation than the fact that he cheated at all.

If she was truly upset about the cheating itself, she would've said something more along the lines of "I can't believe you slept with someone else!" or something like that. Throwing their imp butler and him saying "You wanna fuck this one too?" and calling Stolas "pathetic, imp-sucking face" is all you need to know that Stella is making it more about WHO Stolas cheated on her with than the fact that he cheated. Keep in mind that this argument was going on right in front of Via, who didn't even say anything or try to stop it.

Octavia here says "You two done screaming for the day?" with little emotion, and Stolas' reply basically amounts to "Yup" without hesitation. More and more proof that his marriage with Stella was NEVER happy and never something that he wanted.

Later in the episode, Via does say that her parents used to love each other, even though we as the audience know it's not true. Stolas even tries to explain to her that he and Stella were never in love to begin with, but he didn't have the words. Because how exactly can you explain to your daughter that you and your wife were in an arranged marriage since you guys were kids for the sole purpose of producing a child, without offending her and making her think she was only born for one purpose? Or better yet, what reason is there to assume that she'd actually believe you?

People have looked at this picture on the wall and somehow came to the conclusion that Stolas and Stella used to be in a happy, loving relationship based on this picture alone, just because Stella is smiling in it. But if you look cloesly, you'll see that smile on Stella is barely there. She's very obviously faking it to keep up an image. She's forcing it so people won't get suspicious. This is the vision of Stella that Octavia remembers from her youth, which is exactly why she was naive enough to believe that her parents genuinely loved each other before Blitzø came along for a one night stand in hopes of getting the grimoire. Sure, she had seen them arguing and fighting with each other before that, but that's mainly because most if not all parents have gotten into nasty arguments at some point that their children were more likely than not to witness.

Stella is barely looking at Stolas there, clearly rolling her eyes and just wanting the picture to be overwith already. Stolas is genuinely happy there, but that's because his "little owlette" is there with him. He's not looking at Stella at all. Another picture in their house with just Stolas and Stella together has both of them frowning and looking at the camera, not each other. Octavia is the only thing to come out of Stolas' marriage that ever gave him any real happiness. She was the only reason he stayed at that house.

That scene where Stella ignores Octavia's cry for help when she's having a nightmare and tells Stolas to go check on her instead is more evidence that Stella had never been a nice person or a good mother. You could argue that she was just too tired to do anything about it, but look again. Stolas was just as tired as she was, yet he still went out of way to comfort his "little Starfire" when she was having a bad dream. Octavia may have called for both of her parents, but she said she had a bad dream about her father disappearing. Not her parents, just her father.

Also notice the drawings in Octavia's bedroom when she's a child. Look at how many of them are of her and Stolas together, but Stella is nowhere to be found in those drawings. That shows how close Via is to her father, especially when she was a little girl, but was never really close to her mother at all. Sure, those drawings are no longer in Via's room when she's a teen in the present, but remember that her and Stolas gradually got less close to each other as the years went by and their relationship got more flawed, to the point that Via questions if her dad even loves her anymore and literally listens to music about hating dads. But the fact remains that there were never any drawings of Stella in her daughter's room and there still isn't now is pretty telling that Stella was never a good mom, still isn't now and likely never will be.

Now look at The Harvest Moon Festival. If Loo Loo Land didn't convince you that Stella was a bitch, then this episode sure will. Stella's only scene in the episode is her screaming into a phone while she's talking to Striker about wanting Stolas dead. Right in front of him and Octavia. While Via is listening to music that's too loud for her to have even heard the screaming, Stolas heard it pretty clearly. But he had no reaction to his own wife screeching about hiring an assassin to kill him. Him being completely unphased by something like that is surely a sign that Stella had always hated his guts and he knew about it. He likely heard her shouting at the top of her lungs about wanting to murder him with her own bare hands. If he's not reacting to Stella talking to Striker on the phone about planning his death in front of him, he might as well have been hearing shit like that from her for years.

Not counting the pilot, those are the only two scenes with Stella in season 1. Both scenes depicted her in the same light. A loud, violent bitch in a loveless marriage. Therefore, her reveal in The Circus about always hating Stolas from the get go is not a retcon. Not that there was even much known about her character for there to be retconned in the first place, but her few scenes before that episode showed her doing and saying nothing BUT horrible things.

As for Stolitz, Blitzø is more than once implied to return Stolas' feelings for him. He just never said it out loud and is in denial about his own feelings. He's not even aware that Stolas' love for him is genuine because between their reuniting at the Not Divorce Party and their fumbled fake date at Ozzie's, Stolas has only ever talked to Blitzø with sexual innuendos. So Blitzø had no reason to assume that Stolas was legitimately in love him and didn't just want him for sexy times, because Stolas hadn't really been helping his case. Blitzø ranted to Fizzarolli about Stolas "acting" like he cared about him outside of sex.

Everytime Blitzø talks about Stolas treating him like his own personal fuck toy, he looks and sounds pretty upset about it. I doubt he'd care all that much about his relationship with Stolas being transactional fucking if he didn't like him back. Right after the fake date gone wrong at Ozzie's, Blitzø is looking at several pictures saved in his phone, one of them being a photo of him Stolas laying together in bed. Blitzø looks genuinely happy in that photo, he's even smiling. He DOES enjoy being around Stolas. After Loona comforts him, he can be heard whispering the names of all the people he cares about and is close to. Those people being Loona, Moxxie, Millie and.... Stolas.

In Seeing Stars, Blitzø blushes when seeing Stolas in his human form and you can see his pupils dialating for a few seconds before he changes for a few seconds. I don't know about you, but I don't blush at anyone i'm not in love with when they get a new look. Pupils dialating are also a commom indication that you're looking at something you love. Later in that episode, Blitzo nervously sweats when Stolas whispers into his ear with a seductive voice, smiles at Stolas specifically when he causes the whole audience to laugh, and holds his hand while they run out of the burning building. Blitzø did not need to hold Stolas' hand. He could've just said "Hey, let's get the fuck outta here," and Stolas wouldn't have hesitated. On top of that, they are still shown holding hands long after they escaped and only let go once they see their daughters.

Now, onto the most complicated scene involving the Stolitz relationship, during Blitzø's ball tripping hallucination where he sees Stolas on top of a staircase and is being pulled towards him with chains. Already not a good sign. But Blitzø was already climbing the staircase before the chains appeared. Even when he saw Stolas above him, he didn't run away. He briefly walked towards him before being dragged towards him. He's seen blushing once he reaches the top and Stolas caresses his face. Also notice how the art style in Blitzø's ball trip sequence was completely different from how the show normally looks, but the moment he saw Stolas the art style changed back to normal. Meaning that Blitzø feels the most like himself when he's around Stolas.

He just wants to be in a legit, healthy relationship with Stolas out of love, not the transactional fuck buddy situation he's in right now. He wishes that Stolas would stop calling him degrading nicknames like "impish little plaything" and is bothered by the power imbalance between the two of them.

"Show, don't tell" is an important writing tool that isn't respected these days. If a story isn't being anvilicious and spoonfeeding you information with heavy-handed exposition and infodumps left and right, then foreshadowing details get dismissed and ignored, with some people straight up saying they don't count because it's not being spelled out to them every 5 seconds. This is why some people still insist that Stella's villainy was retconned and that Blitzø has no interest in Stolas despite evidence to the contrary. They were paying more attention to their headcanons than what the show actually presented, and got mad when their headcanons were contradicted by canon.

#helluva boss #blitzø buckzo #stolas goetia #stella goetia #octavia goetia #stolitz #character analysis #show don't tell

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silverbladexyz · 3 months

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TW: Mentions of death, injuries, self-loathing. Part 2 to this. Part 3 is here.

"I can't believe you sometimes. What if you had actually been killed because of your recklessness?!"

"But I wasn't! Even if combat isn't my strong suit, I had it all under control; and besides, these wounds are nothing compared to what we've faced before!"

In the normally tranquil environment of the Port Mafia's infirmary, two voices argued back and forth. One laced with worry and anger, the other laced with guilty adamance. A pair of best friends seemed to be the reason behind this noise; with their stubbornness a guise of the true feelings that they harboured for each other.

"Are you seriously kidding me right now? Even if you had it all under control, that doesn't mean you can gamble your life away like it's nothing! How do you think everyone would feel if you died? Do you want to put them through more pain and suffering that could've been prevented if you were more cautious? Do you even care?!"

"..."

Instead of replying, you turned away, suddenly finding the window to be more interesting than whatever was going on right now.

He was right. You didn't think properly about the consequences before you jumped straight in to engage with the enemy, even if you may have had a backup plan.

"... I'm sorry."

It was soft, but Chuuya managed to catch it.

He gave a small sigh, his shoulders dropping as the tension in them wore out. You fiddled with your bandages, not having the courage to look at him in the eyes. Did you even deserve to, afterall? When you worried him sick after he learnt that he almost lost you?

You heard his footsteps approaching you, and mentally prepared for the next thing that he was going to say.

Only for him to somewhat tug you into his arms.

Your eyes widened, and you blinked several times before realising that Chuuya Nakahara, your best friend, was hugging you.

His breath fanned against your collarbone as he buried his face into your shoulder. Strong arms held you close to him, being mindful of the injuries that you sustained on your body- yet the grip they held you in was tight but secure.

"... You idiot. Don't you dare do that again."

It was the most vulnerable you had ever seen him.

You hugged him back, inhaling his rich scent as an unknown heat bloomed in your chest.

"I won't. I promise, Chuuya."

His warmth never left your memories.

Now, you watched as he stood with her, holding her hand. They were too far away for you to make out their words, but whatever she said made Chuuya laugh. A genuine, happy laugh that seemed so much more different from the short chuckles he normally gave you.

He put his arm around her shoulder, and you unconsciously hugged your body as you felt yourself getting colder. It was the third of December- the start of another winter in Yokohama. Marking the six month anniversary of their relationship.

A wry smile made it's way on your face as Chuuya pulled Yasuko in for a kiss. Even though it was a short peck, it was enough to make your heart twist in longing that exemplified whenever you were around him. It was stupid; you knew that your best friend deserved to have someone much better than the monster you were, but it didn't stop you from wishing that you were her. Someone that was a sight for sore eyes, with an aura brighter than the blue skies- someone that could get Chuuya mesmerised.

You even noticed how he became slightly more distant in the friendship. You knew that he wasn't doing it on purpose; he was still the great best friend that he always was, but the little signs were there. Holding your hand so that you wouldn't get lost in the crowd had diminished to just staying close to you. Whenever you called him on a free day to ask if he wanted to hang out with you, he would apologise, saying 'I have a date with Yasuko later'. And the fact that you had the same free days really said something about how much they meant to him.

You walked away, the sight getting too much to handle. Once you were at a safe distance, you crumpled against a wall, biting down on the inside of your mouth to stop the tears from leaking out. A higher-ranking mafioso like you, crying over some crush? Pathetic. An unfitting model for your subordinates who looked up to you as a great unflinching leader.

"Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty." You chuckled bitterly, digging your nails into your palms. You hated it- the soft gaze in Chuuya's eyes whenever Yasuko was mentioned, the way that he gently held her hand, the way he became much more sweet and patient with her that was almost nothing like how he acted around you- you hated it all. You regretted not confessing to him sooner all those years ago.

But you were only the side character in their romance; forever doomed to support them while you suffered in silence.

Was there something or somebody that you could blame for this agony that you were currently in? Destiny, perhaps? Or even Cupid? Those names only made you scoff as you stuffed your hands into your pockets.

There was nobody you could blame except for yourself.

Perhaps it would have been better if you were the one who saved Yasuko, not Chuuya. They would have never spent as much time with each other, and you'd still have a chance at romancing him. None of this would have happened if the roles were reversed at that time.

But who were you kidding? One way or another, they’d end up together by the red string of fate. The most perfect match in all of Yokohama that could put every other couple to shame. And you'd always be the third wheel- the 'best friend' whose sacrifices went unseen just so that they could be happy.

Or maybe it would have been better if Yasuko didn't exist in the first place.

"-Y/N? Y/N?"

A voice broke you out of your thoughts, and you blinked a bit before refocusing onto the girl in front of you.

"Is everything okay? N-not that you have to tell me what's wrong, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I'll always be here for you."

Yasuko looked at you with a concerned expression, her eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort.

Those innocent, beautiful eyes of hers that had held Chuuya captive in their gaze.

Ah, right. You were currently in the shopping mall with her, because her boyfriend had asked you to accompany her like some sort of bodyguard. And who were you to refuse, as his best friend who was always there for him? Well, you were grateful that Chuuya trusted you enough to let you near Yasuko. You had seen how protective he was of her.

"... Nothing. I'm alright."

You smiled at her, all traces of your previous emotions now gone. How could you have let your composure slip so easily? This hangout was so that you could 'get closer' with her, not reminiscing about the pathetic past that held you captive in this agonising love.

She frowned a little, but before she could say anything else, you jumped at the opportunity to distract her. Anything that could make you temporarily forget your pain for one moment was what you desperately needed now.

"Oh, looks like they're selling discounted jewellery! Let's take a look! You might find something that you like."

Grabbing her wrist, you dragged her towards the jewellery store despite having no intentions to buy anything. You simply wanted her to be distracted by the precious stones, so meticulously cut and fit into fine metal that it was laughable how they were mostly for show. A valuable trinket only made to be admired and forgotten at the end of the day, even when so much blood had been spilled over them. Blood that would forever stain the hands of a sinner such as you.

"Oh! I remember Chuuya taking me to a similiar store! He bought me a ring; I said that there was no need, but he insisted." Yasuko glanced down at the gold-and-red circlet that lay snugly around her index finger, her gaze becoming shyer as she profoundly remembered the day that her beloved boyfriend had bought it for her.

Your own silver ring that he gifted to you on your 18th birthday paled in comparison to the 5-carat Burmese ruby that sat atop her finger. It was a harsh reminder of who the buyer really preferred from between the two of you. That twisted feeling in your gut resurfaced, but you pushed it back down. You had no more frivolous hopes that he would one day realise you were the one whom he truly belonged with.

"Haha... did he now? I didn't know Chuuya was such a romantic. Did you know that rubies symbolise passionate and undying love?" You smiled as she blushed; the redness on her cheeks rivaling the shade of the precious gemstone that was proof of his commitment to her.

People were right when they said love hurts, but they never mentioned that it was the most painful sensation in the world. All the stab wounds and burns and whatnot that you had experienced from your enemies were nothing compared to a broken heart. A heart that was made to be torn apart to pieces as it weeps for the love it would never get.

Something cold brushed against your wrist, and you looked down to see a bracelet made up of the most exquisite yellow topaz. Yasuko held an identical one in her hand, her expression almost bashful as she faced you.

"I... I wanted to get matching bracelets for the two of us. I know it's only been a few months since we became friends, but being around you has really brightened up my life. I'm glad that we got to meet each other, and I hope that our friendship continues to grow and strengthen!"

She smiled at you; a smile so full of purity and beauty that it would've made many men fall onto her knees in front of her. It was a smile that didn't belong in the dark depths of Yokohama- instead, it belonged to a goddess that was too good for this world. A goddess that clearly deserved to call Nakahara Chuuya hers. Just seeing that smile made you feel infinitely more guilty about the nasty thoughts you had about her each night.

Yasuko's smile faded, worried that she might have overstepped your boundaries due to your silence.

"S-sorry... I should've asked you beforehand if you wanted to buy matching bracelets. Please don't force yourself to buy it just to make me happy-"

You shut her up by slipping it onto your right wrist, the topaz seeming to reflect the sun's golden rays back at you. Shooting her a smile, you grasped Yasuko's hand and put the other bracelet onto her left wrist joint. It fit nicely; just like anything else that she wore.

"May our friendship last until death do us part." It was a pact that you had sworn with Chuuya before. And you always kept your word, never breaking a promise to someone no matter how bizarre or extreme it was.

How unfortunate, really, that death did you apart too early.

@circinuus @riiwrites @ruanais @justcallmesakira @yasu-masashige @oldworldpoolhall @heartsfourdazai @ashthemadwriter-uwu @sariel626 @yuugen-benni @chocsra @iridescentdove

#silverbladexyz #no way did I just pull a Heather in my fic #it's a good song though #i hope this was okay #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x female reader #chuuya x gn reader #chuuya x fem!reader #part 2 of unrequited love fic #yellow topaz symbolises friendship btw #unrequited love

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lottieurl · 1 year

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PLEASE do share your thoughts on Jackie's parents 👀

THANK YOU for the encouragement. this might get long

let's start with how a while ago i got an anon implying that jackie was pampered by her parents BASED on the scene with adult shauna and them on jackie's birthday. which was the first time it ever occurred to me that people watched that scene and saw something completely different from what i saw. absolutely incomprehensible TO ME to even imagine that because i remember watching it for the first time and thinking that jackie's parents are straight out of a horror movie. there is something so sinister about how they treat shauna all while essentially replacing jackie WITH shauna. shauna gets jackie's gift and i believe (although i'd have to rewach the scene to make sure) shauna blows the candles on JACKIE'S cake and shauna is there with jackie's high school boyfriend. jackie's mother went to her wedding!! the show is not subtle about them putting shauna in the role of the daughter they lost. so why treat her so horribly? when they have no reason to because they don't know she was sleeping with jeff before plane crash before it's revealed to them in that very scene

so what that tells me and how i interpret it is: that's how they were treating jackie when she was alive. there is this insidious sort of cruelty that's masked by fake kindness? but constantly puts you down in ways that's hard to shake off. and jackie was probably Never good enough no matter how much she tried. she only became the Perfect Daughter after death when they could start treating shauna the way they treated jackie. like WHY is jackie such a deeply deeply insecure character? why does she crave validation sooooo bad? and we know she doesn't have a good relationship with her parents from how she talks about her mother when she gives shauna the pills on the plane (and implies her parents are neglectful) and when she says she has curfew and it's very much implied her parents would react badly vs shauna saying she has curfew too but being so unbothered by it she finds time to fuck jeff on her way home lmao. and to me people who fail to notice that are fooled by the appearances. jackie's parents have money and a big house and AFTER JACKIE IS DEAD idealize her. but what they seem not to notice is that the purpose of talking about how perfect jackie was is to belittle shauna. this isn't grieving parents who miss their daughter to me

and now actually let's talk about how i think that interpretation influences jackie as a character. we see how in moments of insecurity she does say things that are... i suppose a mix of self centered and not INTENTIONALLY mean but still hurtful to shauna. but she does usually backtrack and says sorry and her (many many MANY) moments of kindness always come off as genuine to me like she's starved for approval, she craves being loved. i think she keeps coming back to jeff just because even tho she doesn't want HIM she wants to be wanted and wants to be seen as someone who's wanted. but so much of her kindness sometimes feels. how do i put it. anxious? and so i imagine how living with her parents was for her. you're a kid and your parents keep finding ways to belittle you and to shame you but in ways that aren't very obvious especially to a child. you're a kid! you want their approval! so you learn HOW to be and HOW to act to maybe get it. if i am sweet and compliment them and i become the perfect daughter maybe they'll love me. and then you start applying that behavior to all your relationships and you're not even self aware about it. you're a teenager and you're trying so hard

#this might be incomprehensible idk #that's My Take on jackie and jackie's home life and i stand by it #yellowjackets blogging #jackie

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kirain · 3 months

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what do you think of this post about Gale? I saw it today and idk how to feel about it. h t t p s : // www. tumblr. com / galahadwilder / 741497332636467200

I couldn't disagree with it more, to be honest.

First of all, and I can't stress this enough, Mystra doesn't care about her followers. She cares about the state of the Weave and nothing more. If her followers don't worship her, if they're not useful to her, if they don't serve her purpose, they mean nothing to her. After she abandoned Gale, she had no interest in him until she realised she could use him to stop the Absolute—and she only wanted to stop the Absolute because it threatened the Weave. In general, Mystra doesn't care what people use magic for either, be it the most admirable heroics or the most depraved insanity you can imagine.

Case and point: Lorroakan. He is an arrogant wizard, far worse than Gale could ever hope to be, who uses magic for pure evil. When he beat Rolan, he undoubtedly used magic to do it. Do you think Mystra cared? Nope. You can help that nutjob achieve his goals, kill a demigod, turn him immortal, and give him free reign to abuse magic any way he wishes, but do you think Mystra cares? Nope. She doesn't. She doesn't care about people unless they benefit her. In fact, all three iterations of Mystra have a vast history of grooming, flat out 🍇, and the forced impregnation of unsuspecting mortal women. Despite being neutral good, Mystra is and has always been extremely vain, selfish, jealous, and problematic.

With that in mind, I'd like to break this post down piece by piece. Also, please be aware that when I use the word "you", I don't mean you specifically, anon. I'm more so addressing anyone who might be reading.

PS: Please no one harass this person's post. Their opinion is their own, and it's very respectful. At the end of the day, we're just talking about a video game.

Mystra didn't tell Gale not to juggle the torches. She didn't even tell him it was a torch. She let him go on believing it was a part of her missing Weave. Had she told him the truth, he would've stayed away. That's why he's so shocked in Act 3, when she finally reveals it's the Karsite Weave. He had no idea, and she likely never intended to tell him. She didn't before he went off in search of it, and she didn't the entire time he was locked away in his tower, scared and suffering. I can't for the life of me figure out why she wouldn't warn him, but I can only assume it's because she expected absolute obedience, or because she was getting bored of him and wanted him to mess up.

Whatever her reasons, she didn't tell Gale to leave the orb alone because he was "worthy" already. He clearly wasn't in her eyes, because he wanted her to see him as an equal. He wanted her to share her knowledge with him, which is perfectly fair in a healthy relationship. If you're dating a god and they treat you like a worshipper—that's all you are to them. A worshipper. A plaything. You're beneath them. You're unworthy. She told Gale to leave the orb alone because she wanted him to be complacent. She wanted to keep him in servitude. That's what she wants from all of her followers, though it's even worse when it's her lover.

In almost every story where a mortal loves a god, the mortal is either ascended into the heavens or the god gives up their divinity. And this isn't even specific to gods, but also vampires, werewolves, elves, and so on. Arwen, for example, gives up her immortality to be with Aragorn. Bella becomes a vampire to be with Edward. Hercules gives up his divinity to be with Meg. Elisa Esposito becomes aquatic to be with the creature. These are common tropes because it makes the couples equal.

Mystra contradicts herself by saying Gale was "always worthy", because her actions don't reflect it. He was a worthy distraction from her job, sure, but not worthy enough for her to treat him like an equal. So in order to prove it to her, to prove his love and devotion, he went after the one thing he knew she wanted—her missing Weave. Yes, she told him not to, and I agree he should've respected that, but this is on par with a woman telling her husband not to buy a bracelet she really, really wants because it's too expensive. If your husband worked extra hours and saved up enough to buy you that bracelet, would you divorce him?

Gale was completely unaware of the danger. He basically thought he was getting Mystra a bracelet. Had she taken the time to explain it to him, the whole catastrophe could have been avoided. He was just a hopeless romantic who wanted to surprise his girlfriend and prove he belonged at her side. The same girlfriend who very well could have made him her equal and shared her knowledge, but chose not to. Why? Because she's selfish. She didn't want an equal, she wanted a servant. We know this because, if you romance and ascend Gale, he will ascend you alongside him and give you your own domain! Mystra had the power to do this, or at least the ability to slowly ease him into it, but she refused. No matter how much he pleaded and proved his devotion to her, she refused.

Mystra did not save Gale when the orb embedded itself in his chest. He survived only because it fed on his gifts. He says as much, and so does she when you go to see her at the Temple. That's why, when we first meet him, he admits he used to be better at magic. He was once exceedingly powerful, but the orb basically knocked him down to level one. Mystra was perfectly happy to let him scramble to find items to absorb, knowing that he would inevitably run out and erupt. When we give him his third item in Act 1, the orb is becoming quenchless, and he knows his time is nigh. Mystra has nothing to do with satiating the orb until Act 2 and 3, and only because he becomes her wild card.

Gale: Mystra will consider forgiveness?

Elminster: She will consider ... what she considers to be forgiveness.

Even Elminster, her most faithful Chosen, knows her "forgiveness" isn't really forgiveness. It's an ultimatum. Do this for me and be welcomed into my hall, or die and literally go to hell. Why would Mystra make this offer? Well, because why else would Gale agree to kill himself only to end up in the Wall of the Faithless? How would that motivate him? Mystra didn't make this offer out of the kindness of her heart, she made it because she was desperate. Had the opportunity never presented itself, she would've let him die and suffer for all eternity, and possibly take hundreds of innocent people with him in the blast. She. Doesn't. Care. 🤷‍♀️

Now, one could argue Gale was asking for too much, but I'm going to have to call bullshit on that. First of all, Mystra showed him things no mortal has ever seen. It's only fair he'd want to share her world and learn as much as possible. Imagine if the Doctor from Doctor Who picked up some random people and took them on breathtaking adventures, but the audience got mad at them for wanting to see as much as they could. Amy, Clara, Rose, etc.—none of them could live a normal life after meeting him, and they wanted to learn as much about the universe as possible. But everyone loves those characters. They don't get mad. There's even several episodes where the companions call the Doctor out for not treating them as equals, and he admits he's wrong for doing that and adjusts his way of thinking.

I would argue that the only real divide between Mystra and Shar/Vlaakith is that Mystra doesn't inflict physical pain ... most of the time. That's it. Vlaakith and Shar only care about themselves and the effectiveness of their followers, but the exact same applies to Mystra. She is the Weave, and she only cares about the Weave; therefore, she only cares about herself. She had ample opportunity to help Gale or tell him the truth, but she didn't until it was convenient for her. The gods of D&D are basically the Greek Pantheon gods—a bunch of assholes toying with mortals, regardless of their alignment. The odd one is decent, but most are only out for themselves and their rule. Now, I will concur that Mystra is hardly the worst deity (in fact, she's unfortunately one of the better ones), but she's still not great and Gale is her victim.

To get a little controversial, I think the writers made a mistake. I know what they were going for, but I think they lost it along the way. At first, I was ready to stand with everyone and admit he belonged in the quintessential "overreaching wizard full of hubris" category, but upon researching the lore, getting to know Gale better, and doing several different playthroughs, I've come to vehemently disagree. First of all, before 5E (the current D&D edition), becoming a god was the ultimate goal for a lot of players, and that was perfectly acceptable, with many DMs providing celestial paths to make it possible. Moreover, many of the current gods were once human themselves, including Mystra!

Second, it's only hubris if you fail. Gale can ascend. He can succeed. Although it's not the canon outcome I would choose for him, he is right about the crown. He does his research and figures out how to reforge it. And he doesn't seek godhood to be worshipped, he seeks it to either free himself (and all mortals) from Mystra's chains, or for her to acknowledge and love him as an equal. His arrogance stems from insecurity; an insecurity Mystra herself planted and cultivated, and in the end he's not really arrogant atfter all. Does him wanting to be Mystra's equal make him selfish? Well, I suppose that depends on how you answer these questions:

Is your partner equal to you? If you don't think so, why are you leading them on? Why wouldn't you take steps to help them become your equal? Why are you holding them back instead of propping them up? If they show interest in your life, in your world, in the things you can do, why would you keep it to yourself, especially when you have the time and resources to share it?

Just some ambrosia for thought. 😉

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 tav #mystra #all my homies hate mystra

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the0racl30fd3lphi · 1 year

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More than friends, less than lovers. x.t

pairing: xavier thorpe x gn!reader

summary: the whole hyde ordeal has faded slowly in the background as life carried on, the student body ready to grasp onto some new drama. luckily for them, a love triangle is exactly what they needed to fuel the gossip.

warnings: fluff, angst, love triangle (kinda)

a/n: y'all this idea literally came to me at 4 in the morning so please bear with me (as i also wrote it at the ass crack of dawn) i am so obsessed with percy and xavier and wanted to write this desperately, he is all i can think about.

word count: 1,727

part 2 part 3

——————————————————————————

You hated this. This, stage, between what you were and what you could be. Xavier was your best friend. He always had been, truth be told. Yet as soon as he broke up with Bianca your relationship had a shift. Suddenly somethings had a deeper connotation, a hidden meaning. You didn’t hate it. In fact, this was exactly what you had been waiting for for years. Until She came along.

You didn’t hate Wednesday, unfortunately. She had done nothing to spark your anger. It wasn’t like she was purposely making Xavier adore her. It looked like she would rather be without it, being honest. But did it annoy the hell out of you that he was so enamored with her so quickly, when she did nothing to give the idea that she would reciprocate? And yet he seemed to not want to give up on her? While simultaneously leading you on, making you believe you might have a romantic future with him? And being oblivious to the pain it caused? It was the only thing you ever thought about.

Genuinely, you wondered how he could still be so obsessed with her to buy her a phone, after she wrongfully got him imprisoned. If that wasn’t a walking red flag you didn’t know what was.

You and Xavier had stayed close throughout this internal turmoil you went through. It hurt like a bitch, but you’d be damned if you lost him over a girl he liked. Suppressing your feelings wasn’t anything you were stranger to, there were other ways to get out your thoughts.

Something you did often, that you’d never tell him was how frequently you abused mimicking his ability. At first he had found it interesting and expressed he had no problem with you copying his habits. But if he knew what you used it for he’d probably be mad.

Each night, after leaving his dorm and sneaking back into yours, you drew a photo from that day. What he looked like when he smiled. How he laughed. Taking into extreme detail his face, scrunched, while watching a show together. Though you weren’t really watching the show so much as watching him.

You kept these drawings in a box, under your bed, all the way in the back. It was hidden enough to never be seen or touched by anyone. So you used the late Rowan’s telekinesis ability to bring it out and put it back. Was this a healthy coping mechanism? Oh not at all, seeing as some drawings that originated from the latest of nights and most intimate moments, would have made Wednesday blush. Of course it's all innocent, right up until you put it down on paper.

"Drawing lover boy again?" Your best friend Val, barked at you from across the room.

"Lover boy? That's a new one," you softly put the new drawing of him in the box, and back under your bed in the furthest corner. "Not such an accurate name this time, you're losing your touch my friend."

"Well you wish it was, so close enough in my book," She shrugs and jumps onto your bed.

"Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades," you pull your laptop on your lap, and press play on your favorite show to watch together.

"You sound like your father," She gags and you playfully slap her arm before shushing her and cuddling into her side.

——————————————————————————

It was lunch the next day, you had a free period the class before so you were waiting for Xavier to show up at your usual bench in the quad. He was taking a little bit longer than normal so you started early on your homework.

"If it isn't Xavier's little girl," she paused. "friend."

"Bye Bianca," you waved and put the volume up on your phone.

“Where is he this time? With Wednesday maybe?" she crossed her arms and smiled maliciously. "It's already started!" She laughed.

You tried to mind your business, she only ever wants to cause problems and you know this. "What's started?" you kept your eyes on your work, putting the volume lower to hear her better.

“He's bored of you. Just like when he got bored of me and you two got closer? He's onto Wednesday now, and done with you." She raised her eyebrows and put on an innocent doe-eyed look. "Well, anyway, have a good lunch!"

She walked away and went back to her friends. You didn't want to believe it. Would Xavier really replace you with Wednesday? He couldn't, he wouldn't. Even when he was dating Bianca, sure you hung out less, but you were still in his life. She was just trying to get in your head right?

“Sorry I'm late, got a little held up in class," He put his stuff down next to him and grabbed some food from the lunch you packed for the two of you. Cooking had become a stress habit for you, so nightly you sneak into the kitchens and prepare something for the next day.

“What kept you?" You put your stuff in your bag and grabbed a snack from the pile.

"Class, I said that didn't I?" He talked through a mouthful of food.

“Yeah but, what kept you? The teacher? Extra work?” you tried to press while eating your half of the lunch.

“Uh, just some extra credit work, wanna bring my grade up you know?” His answer was strained, and his eyes looked anywhere but at yours. So you followed his gaze, to Wednesday.

“Yeah, for sure,” You mumbled and went back to eating. Even if you wanted to escape him for another hour, to try and calm the thoughts in your head, you couldn’t. You two had the same class next period and you always walked together.

——————————————————————————

The day felt strained, any conversation with Xavier fell off track and eventually died out too soon. It’d been too long since this pattern started. Ever since she came to Nevermore, things slowly got worse between you two. You weren’t as close as before and it killed you.

So like every night, afraid to break habit, you snuck out of Xavier’s dorm to hang out. Right before you were going to knock on the door you heard two hushed voices in the room.

“You can’t keep doing this Xavier, you’re hurting her.” a voice pressed him for answers, sounding upset.

“We’re fine, Ajax.” Xavier fought back, offended anyone would accuse him of doing anything to hurt you.

“How dense are you that everyone can see it, but you?” Ajax stressed the end of his sentence still trying to be quiet.

“See what!” Xavier was getting increasingly agitated.

Your grip on the handle faltered and it wiggled just loud enough for both boys to notice it. Suddenly the door was opening and you smiled sheepishly at Xavier, “Hi.”

“I’m gonna leave,” Ajax looked between the both of you and you moved out of the way for him to exit. He sent one last glance Xavier’s way before he closed the door and went back to his dorm.

“Sorry, did i interrupt anything?” You apologized, still feeling the tense air.

“No,” He ran a hand through his hair in the same manor that always drove you crazy. “Nothing important.”

And just as quick as your conversation, Xavier went to sketching as you made yourself comfortable in his bed with your book. How quickly he could make your heart speed up and then break it felt like a world record now.

——————————————————————————

It’s been two weeks now since you accidentally overheard Xavier’s conversation with Ajax that night. Things hadn’t changed between you two, and you can’t figure out if that’s a good thing or not yet. Val had been pushing you to just confront him about your feelings. She knew letting them simmer inside was doing no one any good.

So on a night similar to that one fateful evening, you mustered up the courage to finally ask him what you meant to each other.

“Hey Xavi,” you asked, leaning slightly to the side now as he turned around from the mural he was painting on his wall to look at you. “What do I mean to you?”

He seemed to freeze, face tinting slightly rosier, whether it was blush or anger you didn’t know yet.

“What do you mean?” He dipped his brush in the cup he used to clean them, going right back to his art. It made you study his face, his posture, before continuing your question.

“I mean, I know what you mean to me. I know what i feel for you,” you felt emboldened by seeing him try and play off his nervousness watching him tense and straighten his back. “But I don’t know what I am to you.”

He paused and blinked, it looked like he was going to say something but he made no move to speak. After two minuets he finally opened his mouth, “Where is this coming from? You’re my best friend, you’re.. I..” He trailed off.

“But it’s more than that. More than friends,” he flushed pink, taking in a large gulp. “But less than lovers.” His grip turned white on the brush as he slumped slightly. Still he made no move to speak, so you turned away and went to collect your things. Nothing was said between you two as you packed up what you brought and slung your bag over your shoulder.

As you slipped out the door and into the shadows, mimicking a poltergeist you had once seen and turning yourself almost completely invisible. No one could even hear you breath and you floated through the halls back your dorm.

And in the faint night hair, before you left the wing his dorm was in, you could’ve sworn you heard him call your name and try to get your attention. But it was futile as you just sped up and got back to your dorm quicker.

Val said nothing as you slumped into your bed, rolling your stuff off the side and curling up with a blanket in your arms. She must’ve been able to infer what happened, and she climbed in next to you to hold you as you silently wept. Not even a shake ran through you as the tears fell. No one could hear the sound of your heart shattering that night.

#xavier thorpe x reader #wednesday #peter hynes white #xavier x reader #xavier thorpe #im so in love with him #i wanna shift for him so bad

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lets-try-some-writing · 5 months

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Since you have an au where Optimus used his holoform to become a teacher, I was curious if any of the other bots have messed around with their holoforms?

WELL-

I am just going to tie this in with Mr. Pax because goodness it fits too well. Enjoy!

Mr. Pax AU here!

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Optimus was by far the only bot in base who used his holoform so frequently. Being a teacher is taxing and he often goes out of his way to spent an almost equal amount of time in holoform as out. But he isn't the only bot who spends time parading as a human off and on.

Ratchet, despite almost never leaving base, has occasionally used his holoform during quiet days to travel to bigger cities in order to sit in on lectures. He fakes whatever he needs to in order to get into lectures on subjects he wants to know more about, usually relating to medicine and all things natural sciences. He has been known to show up for math lectures too. However, he is not exactly the most subtle. Coming in with bright orange and white hair, possessing scars to mimic his facial plating seams, and always dressing the same exact way while never seeming to breathe or blink tends to draw attention.

Much like Optimus, Ratchet has gained a bit of a reputation. His appearances are so random and so varied in location that there has been a forum dedicated to him specifically. He has turned up all over the globe to listen to lectures, and as such, folks have taken pictures and begun trying to connect the dots. Many a poor fool has lamented the absolute impossibility of Ratchet being in Tokyo for a debate over quantum physics only to then be in Istanbul two hours later to observe archeologists argue over Roman relics. Ratchet has no idea that he is regarded as the "Wandering Pharmacist", in large part due to his eternally present lab coat.

Arcee does not tend to use her holoform unless absolutely required. But after heading through a seedier part of one of the larger cities in America, she has taken to heading to the more crime ridden ones on weekends to do some vigilante work. Being a nonexistent person means that she is able to get away with quite a lot. Thus far, Arcee has busted quite a few drug rings, saved dozens of trafficking victims, and dropped anonymous details to the police regarding homicides. Is is a waste of time? She would argue "maybe". Does she go out anyway? Absolutely.

Always having her holoform in black and garbed in a biker helmet ensures Arcee is never caught. But there are rumors now in larger cities of a biker called "Lady Midnight". Arcee's habit of walking scared women home on dark nights has earned her a very favorable reputation, and more than one mural has been made by appreciative artists over the years. She knows she has a reputation, but she never changes her routine. Those who meet her regard her respectfully, even criminals. She too has a forum dedicated to her. No one has been able to successfully figure out who, or rather what she is.

Bumblebee has become a very well known gamer who turns up at the local arcade every now and then. His signature mask, yellow black marked hoodie, and dread locks leave him able to be picked out from a mile away. No one knows his parents or if he even has any. But when Bumblebee comes on into Jasper's arcade, the local children revere him as if he is some sort of god. His ability to beat the games is legendary, and never once does he utter a word. He has a small fanclub who do everything in their power to learn the way of "The Masked Boy"

Thus far, only one kid saw Bumblebee's holoform vanish and be reabsorbed. Not a soul believes the poor sod. If anything, it has only cemented Bumblebee's position as the Lord of video games. Rafael is the only one out of the trio who knows that its Bumblebee who goes the arcade. Jack and Miko assume that its just some rando who drops by every now and then. Oh how wrong they are.

Bulkhead has only uses his holoform for the express purpose of talking with the older folks at the bar. He took a liking to a group of construction workers shortly after arriving to Earth. They taught him a great deal about acting human while thinking he was a foreigner. The elderly crew treated him so kindly that Bulkhead has now made it a habit to go and get drinks with them once a week if he can manage. He loves hearing the stories of these elderly humans, and despite being ages older than them, he has a fantastic time learning under them.

Little does he know that the crew know that he's not human. But there is an old understanding amongst them. If someone it polite and kind, there is no need to pry. And so they don't. They treat Bulkhead as they would any other person and tell stories as if they can't see his holoform flickering off and on. What happens in the bar stays in the bar.

Wheeljack somehow managed to build himself a club by pure accident. He was meandering about and he saw a few kids being pushed around. And so on instinct, he slaps together a holofrom and gets out to beat the afts of those who were messing with the kids. From that point onward, whenever he was on Earth he offered greetings to the local kids, calling them by fun and unique nicknames. He even began instructing a few on how to throw a proper punch, if only for self defense. Is he around often? No. But do the kids respect the hell out of him? Absolutely. By giving them the watered down version of the Wrecker rules, the local children hold nothing but absolute adoration for him.

There is a whole club dedicated to following the rules he taught them. In his absence, the small gang of kids serve as Wheeljack's replacement and help protect the other kids from bullies and other such individuals. They even have gone so far as to get matching clothes and accessories so that when they are "on duty" they can look the part. Wheeljack has never been so proud.

Ultra Magnus has only used his holoform a few times, and all of which were to go meet Optimus at school. He has largely been the one to come bring Optimus things while the Prime is at work, or to otherwise look big and intimidating to cover for Optimus more subtle tactics. The students murmured about him possibility being Optimus's spouse, but those claims were dismissed with Ultra Magnus refusing to call Optimus anything other than "Commander". Now the class firmly believes that he has to be one of Optimus's kids or a fellow fae creature subserviently to Mr. Pax. The rumors are amazing.

Smokescreen can never keep his holoform straight. His is always changing appearances. And so whenever he goes out and promptly does something he really shouldn't be able to, he is often recorded and promptly lost to the ether. He is always the one breaking human biological limits through pushing his holoform more than it really should, often by accident too. All he wants is to go enjoy human culture and he almost always gets recorded doing something just strange enough to count as supernatural, but not odd enough to really warrant any attention.

Like Ratchet, there is a forum for him dubbed "The shapeshifer". He doesn't know about it, but the forum enjoyers are actually quite intelligent and have long connected Smokescreen's various holoforms together.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #optimus prime #team prime #ratchet #bumblebee #ultra magnus #arcee #bulkhead #wheeljack #smokescreen #teacher au

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