#HAVE AN ESSAY IN RESPONSE TO YOUR GIFT THANKS

[starryhyuck]

pairing: slytherin!jaemin x afab!ravenclaw!reader

words: 10.3k+

summary: na jaemin has asked you out every year since you came to hogwarts. maybe this is the year you’ll say yes.

genre: fluff, angst, smut

warnings: reader is shy, slight corruption kink, penetrative sex, loss of virginity, voyeurism, fingering, cunnilingus, public sex, squirting, creampies, messy sex

You’re in your first year at Hogwarts when Na Jaemin asks you out for the first time.

The both of you are standing in the middle of the courtyard and his ears are blooming red, either from the cold or pure embarrassment. He’s holding a chocolate frog, outstretching his hand to you.

“I think you’re pretty.”

You try to ignore the fact that your friends are squealing behind you. Your eyes are only focused on Jaemin, who’s wearing his signature smile. His best friends, Jeno and Donghyuck, are snickering behind him.

You know you want to tell the Slytherin that he’s pretty too, or at least thank him for the gift, but somehow your brain completely short circuits.

Your eleven-year-old self runs away from the group and back into the Hogwarts castle, breaking Na Jaemin’s heart for the first time.

—

You’re in your second year when Na Jaemin asks you out for the second time.

Your rejection of Jaemin the previous year spread around school like wildfire. Many of your friends asked you why you turned him down, especially when he was one of the most desired boys in your year. You didn’t know how to explain that he made you extremely nervous and his declaration of affection caused you to hate the attention you started receiving.

“Jaemin’s looking at you,” Doyeon giggles in your ear.

Your eyes wander up from your Potions book to see that, indeed, Jaemin is sitting at one of the library tables across the room, focus directed at you. You swallow and return your gaze to your textbook.

“Don’t you want to ask him why he’s staring at you?” Doyeon whines at your lack of enthusiasm. “He clearly still likes you!”

The librarian shushes your table and Doyeon sticks her tongue out when they’re not looking.

You sigh. “I just want to finish my Potions essay, Doyeon.”

You can practically see her roll her eyes in response. Jaemin has tried talking to you since the incident, jumping at any chance to partner with you during your classes together. You’ve only offered him rapid blinks and slow nods in return.

You groan when Doyeon suddenly elbows your side.

“Go and get me the book we need for Charms, please.”

“What? Why can’t you get it?” You frown, eyebrows furrowed.

She sighs as if you’re the one causing a problem. She gives you one of her signature looks and you grumble, pulling yourself away from the table. When you finally find the aisle you’re looking for, you nearly gasp when you see Jaemin there too.

Oh Doyeon, you sneaky witch.

He says your name like you’ve just caught the Golden Snitch. “Nice to see you!”

You smile awkwardly, ignoring the butterflies swarming your stomach.

“Hi, Nana.”

He beams when you call him by his nickname. You falter at his clear enthusiasm. You wish you were just slightly more brave to carry a conversation with him, but you resort to clumsily searching for Doyeon’s book. You sigh when you realize it’s on the top shelf.

Before you can attempt to grab it, you feel Jaemin’s chest press against your back as he easily takes it for you. You yelp at the proximity, ignoring his cheerful smile as he hands the book over to you.

“Looking for this?”

You try your best to steady your voice. “Um, yes?”

He chuckles. “You don’t sound so sure about it.”

Despite the book being safely in your hands, he shows no signs of stepping away from you. You avoid any eye contact you could possibly make with him.

“I should get back to my table,” you whisper softly. “Doyeon probably wants to get started on her Charms homework.”

“Meet me at the Astronomy Tower tonight?”

You blink at Jaemin’s question. He’s still smiling happily, fully expecting you to say yes.

“Um, I have a lot of work to get done tonight. Potions essay and all of that.”

“Oh,” he murmurs bashfully, scratching the back of his neck and taking a step away from you. “That’s okay. Some other night then?”

“Okay!” You squeak, taking your chance and scurrying away from him. Your abrupt departure prevents you from seeing the hopeful look in his eyes.

When you return to your table, Doyeon is smirking mischievously.

“You sure took a long time getting that book.”

“I hate you.”

—

You’re in your third year when Na Jaemin asks you out for the third time.

“Dude, she’s not going out with you. It’s starting to look super desperate.”

Jeno has to physically prevent Jaemin from lunging across the Great Hall table and attacking Donghyuck.

“Hyuck,” Renjun scolds from his spot next to Jeno. “You know Jaemin’s sensitive about it.”

“Whatever,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “All I’m saying is that everyone knows you like her, and if she liked you, then moves would have already been made.”

“You don’t know anything,” Jaemin hisses. “She’s just shy, that’s all. She doesn’t like the attention.”

Jeno glares at Donghyuck as a signal for him to shut up. Renjun even shoves a spoonful of chicken into Donghyuck’s mouth to make sure of it.

Jaemin’s focus returns to you as you’re giggling into your hand at something Yoo Jimin says. He fondly smiles at the sight of you looking so happy from across the Great Hall. He wishes you would look that happy whenever you see him too.

His attempts at getting you to agree to a date has been less than successful to say the least. Donghyuck was right — everyone in the Wizarding World knew of Jaemin’s crush at this point, but you still showed no signs of returning his affections.

“I’m not saying Donghyuck’s right or anything,” Renjun timidly brings up, earning a warning look from Jeno. “But maybe you should try crushing on someone else. Who knows? Maybe she’ll get jealous.”

Jaemin scoffs at the idea. As if he could like anyone else but you. It sounded unbelievably pathetic, but you were all he thought about. He wanted nothing but to hold your hand and kiss you in front of everyone.

Even if it made him the running joke to the rest of the houses, he didn’t care. He only desired you.

His blood boils when he sees Shotaro approach your table, cheeks red as he asks to sit down next to you.

“What the hell is he doing?” Jaemin hisses.

Jeno coughs awkwardly. “I heard from Sungchan that Shotaro has a little crush.”

“What?” Jaemin practically yells, causing the rest of his house to shush him.

“Alright, let’s be calm about this,” Jeno says, knowing how irritated his best friend could get. “Jaemin-“

Jeno’s protests are ignored as Jaemin makes his way over to your table. Jeno runs a hand down his face, praying that Jaemin doesn’t make a complete fool out of himself.

You nearly jump out of your seat when you hear your name being called. You glance behind you to see Jaemin.

“O-Oh,” you stutter, not expecting his presence. You fail to notice Shotaro’s shoulders slump in defeat at the sight of the Slytherin. “Hi Nana.”

You pay no attention to Doyeon and Jimin’s raised eyebrows from their positions across from you. Jaemin forces his hands between you and Shotaro, creating enough distance for him to sit in the middle.

“What are we talking about over here?”

Doyeon and Jimin exchange a look before Doyeon speaks up. “Shotaro over here was just talking about going to Hogsmeade this weekend.”

“Oh? I didn’t even know Hufflepuffs went outside,” Jaemin hums. Doyeon and Jimin cover up their laughs with a cough.

“Hogsmeade trips are for all students,” you mention quietly.

Jaemin smiles at you. “That’s right! I was actually thinking about going to Madam Puddifoot’s, want to join?”

Every student knows that Madam Puddifoot’s is where all the couples go on dates. Since this is the first year you’re allowed to take weekend Hogsmeade trips, you haven’t gotten a chance to see it for yourself. However, the thought of going with Jaemin seemed way too nerve wracking.

“She would love to!” Jimin interjects, shooting you a look.

“Actually, I was going to ask her if she wanted to go with me,” Shotaro says, glaring at Jaemin.

The two boys suddenly engage in a heated staring contest, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Doyeon and Jimin, on the other hand, are thoroughly enjoying watching the current scene unfold.

“Maybe we can all go!” You say in an attempt to ease the tension.

Doyeon’s head hits the table in reaction to your stupidity. Jaemin and Shotaro turn to you with confused looks on their faces. Jimin decides to help you out.

“Actually, I just remembered we promised Minjeong we would meet her at Honeydukes to grab some sweets. Sorry boys, maybe next time.”

You squeak when Doyeon suddenly grabs your arm, and before you know it, you’re being pulled away from the table.

Once you’re out of sight, Jaemin turns to scowl at the Hufflepuff.

“Don’t even think about it. Everyone knows I like her.”

Shotaro scoffs. “Just because you like her doesn’t mean she likes you.”

“Watch it, Hufflepuff.”

“Game on, Slytherin.”

A few minutes of intense glaring occurs until Jeno and Sungchan both rush over to the table, pulling the two boys apart.

—

You’re in your fourth year when Na Jaemin asks you out for the fourth time.

The only difference this year is that you already have a boyfriend. You’ve been dating Shotaro for a couple of months, and everything seems to be going well.

The only bump in the road so far was your friends.

“Listen, I’m just saying that Shotaro is really sweet and nice, but you clearly took the easy way out,” Doyeon complains. “I know that deep down, you like Jaemin more.”

“Doyeon, I really don’t want to hear this again,” you sigh, trying your best to focus on your History of Magic homework.

Doyeon and Jimin brought Jaemin up at least once a week. Ever since you started dating Shotaro, Jaemin took a hint and spent less and less time trying to get your attention. You still noticed his lingering stares here and there, but Shotaro would always try to initiate skinship with you just to remind Jaemin who you were dating.

“What are we talking about?” Jimin asks, plopping down on the couch in the Ravenclaw common room.

“How Jaemin is better than Shotaro,” Doyeon responds.

You frown. “You know, Slytherins aren’t even allowed in here.”

The two Slytherins ignore your protests. “Oh, Jaemin is so much better,” Jimin echoes. “I think she just likes Shotaro because he’s quiet and shy like her. But Jaemin would show her a much better time.”

“Jimin!” You hiss, growing embarrassed by the second. “Can we not talk about this please? I’m dating Shotaro and I really like him.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

You try not to let their words get to you since you know Doyeon and Jimin love to tease you. The thought of Jaemin still lingers in your mind, however, and Shotaro starts to notice you distancing yourself a week later.

“Are you okay?” He asks apprehensively, almost afraid of hearing the answer. “You haven’t been yourself lately.”

“I’m fine!” You try to assure him, ignoring the worried look in his eyes. “I’m just stressed with homework, that’s all.”

He smiles and you can’t help but compare it to Jaemin. Jaemin’s smile is a little brighter and more captivating, always causing your brain to malfunction whenever he grins at you.

“You don’t need to worry. You’re the smartest girl in our year,” Shotaro assures.

You laugh nervously. “Thank you.”

A few moments pass while the two of you are walking down the hallway before Shotaro clears his throat. He seems even more anxious than you.

“Did you hear about the dance they’re hosting this year?”

“Oh,” you hum, thinking about it. You remember Doyeon excitedly chattering the details to you, talking animatedly about what kind of dress she plans on wearing and how she’s going to style her hair. Jimin was equally excited, attempting to also raise your enthusiasm about the event. “Doyeon and Jimin have been mentioning it to me.”

He beams. “Good! I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”

You sheepishly stutter. You were honestly planning on skipping the dance in favor of getting a good night’s sleep. Although knowing Doyeon and Jimin, they would never let you ditch.

“S-Sure. That sounds nice.”

Shotaro’s smile extends tenfold, and he leans down to press a kiss against your cheek. You bashfully stare at your feet, avoiding his gaze.

When you relay the information to the two girls later, they’re so excited you agreed to go to the dance that they don’t even mention Jaemin. They eagerly discuss shopping plans and hair and makeup expectations, all while you panic on the inside.

They help you pick out a gorgeous blue gown that hugs your figure, which initially makes you nervous but with a lot of assurances from Doyeon and Jimin, you grow confident in your appearance. The girls do your hair and makeup for you, giggling about how cute you’re going to look.

“If only it was for Jaemin,” Jimin hums while applying your eyeshadow.

“Hey,” you protest softly. “You said you were happy that Shotaro asked me.”

“I am!” She argues. “It’s just that I know Jaemin really likes this color on you.”

“Is that why you picked this out for me?”

When the both of them fail to answer your question, you huff. Your curiosity gets the best of you, however.

“Is Jaemin going with anyone?”

You miss the look Doyeon and Jimin exchange over your head. “I heard he asked out Yizhuo,” Jimin answers.

“Oh,” you mumble. Yizhuo was a Slytherin girl in the same classes as both you and Jaemin, so it would make sense that he asked her. You remember her being very pretty and sweet whenever you got paired for projects together.

Doyeon smiles, sensing your disappointment even though you would never admit it. She presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Just have a good time tonight, my little flower.”

“You know I’m the same age as the both of you. You don’t have to keep acting like my moms.”

You giggle when they suddenly shower you in kisses as a response.

Shotaro perks up when you finally meet him outside of the Great Hall. He’s wearing a blue tie to match your dress, and he kisses the back of your hand in greeting.

“You look beautiful,” he compliments.

“Thank you,” you manage to whisper, feeling bashful by the attention.

Some of the other houses are stopping to look at you two, murmuring to each other and making you even more nervous. Your breath catches in your throat when you meet Jaemin’s eyes across the room. He’s smiling fondly at you, his emerald green tie matching Yizhuo’s dress.

Your heart sinks a little at the sight of them looking like a perfect pair standing next to one another. Shotaro nudges you out of your trance.

“Ready to go in?”

You nod, mustering your best smile. “Born ready.”

The night, by all means, was a picture perfect fairytale. Shotaro was a perfect gentleman as he led you on the dance floor, with you feeling slightly inferior to his incredible dance skills. You exchanged a few fun twirls with Doyeon and Jimin, giggling to one another in the midst of all the sparkle and flair. Your eyes only strayed a few times to catch the sight of a certain Slytherin boy dancing with his date.

It forces you to excuse yourself to catch your breath. Shotaro offers to go with you but you insist on him staying inside and enjoying himself.

Jaemin later finds you in the Astronomy Tower, overlooking the stars.

He clears his throat to make you aware of his presence, causing you to jump at the sound.

“Sorry,” he apologizes with a chuckle, taking the spot next to you. “I didn’t know I would catch you out here.”

“I just needed a breather,” you murmur, ignoring the fact that his arm is nearly pressed against yours. “It was getting a little stuffy in there.”

“Your boyfriend didn’t want to escort you out?”

If you notice an implication in Jaemin’s tone, you make no show of it.

“No, I told him to stay. He’s a great dancer, I don’t know if you’ve seen it.”

“Oh, I’ve seen it,” he says under his breath, almost with a hint of jealousy.

You two linger in silence for a bit before he breaks it.

“It would be wildly inappropriate for me to ask you out at this moment, right?”

You blink at him, startled by the sudden question.

“I thought you came with Yizhuo?”

“Yizhuo and I are just friends,” he brushes off. “She didn’t have a date and the girl I wanted had a date of her own already.”

He eyes you carefully and you flush in embarrassment, staring down at your hands.

“Jaemin, you know Shotaro is my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, that’s unfortunate, isn’t it?”

“Nana,” you whisper, hoping the nickname will convey exactly what you want to say. To tell him that despite your conflicting feelings, you’re still dating Shotaro and don’t want to hurt him in any way.

He nods in understanding before preparing to take his leave. “Before I go, I just wanted you to know you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. You took my breath away when I saw you. Shotaro’s a lucky guy and I hope he knows it.”

You watch pitifully as Jaemin heads back to the dance, ignoring the sound of your heart thumping in your ears.

—

You’re in your fifth year when Na Jaemin’s attempts start to falter for the first time.

You and Shotaro ended your relationship on good terms over the summer, agreeing that the both of you were better off as friends after holding hands started feeling too awkward. When Doyeon and Jimin found out about the amicable breakup, they were quick to get you back on your feet once you voiced your insecurities.

“Maybe it was me? Am I not pretty enough to kiss?”

They both frown, looking more disappointed than you’ve ever seen them.

“You are the prettiest girl at Hogwarts, so I have no idea where this is coming from,” Doyeon shakes her head, combing her fingers through your hair.

You’re sprawled on the floor of their shared bedroom after Jimin found a way to sneak you into the Slytherin dorms.

“You said it yourself that Shotaro and you broke up because it was too awkward. He never told you that you weren’t pretty enough to kiss,” Jimin reminds you.

“I know, I know,” you sigh. “But we just never did what normal couples do, you know? It made me start to think that it was because of me.”

“It could never be because of you,” Doyeon chides. “Besides, if you want to get kissed that bad, I know someone who would be first in line for that chance.”

It rattles you when you automatically know who she’s referring to.

“I heard he got a girlfriend over the summer,” you say quietly.

Jimin scoffs. “You heard wrong. I told you to only get gossip from me, I’m a reliable source. I’ve heard absolutely nothing about said girlfriend.”

The three of you are thoroughly surprised when you catch Jaemin the next day, hand in hand with Hyojung, a fellow Ravenclaw girl.

Jimin curses under her breath and Doyeon scolds her for not being the first one to know this new information. As the couple walk down the hallway, Jaemin’s eyes lock with yours. You both still, almost as if time has stopped in its tracks.

He’s the first one to break it, with Hyojung tugging on his arm and questioning why he suddenly stopped in the middle of the crowd. Your eyes well with tears before you stray from Doyeon and Jimin, finding an empty classroom to wallow your sorrows in.

Why were you so sad? It’s not like you had anything romantic in line for you and Jaemin. After all, you were the one who’s been rejecting him since you first stepped foot in Hogwarts.

You decide to ignore your muddled feelings for most of the first half of the year. Jaemin and Hyojung seem to be going strong and despite Jimin’s endless apologies, you insist that you’re happy for the couple and wish them all the best.

You get paired with Jeno for a Charms project as the winter season approaches. Jeno proves to be a diligent partner, equally dividing work and quietly finishing your portions of the project in the library together.

The question itches at the back of your mind one night, and you can’t stop yourself from asking.

“Jeno, how did Jaemin and Hyojung get together?”

He’s surprised by the inquiry, head tilted in confusion. “Well, their parents are friends and they used to be close when they were younger. They decided to give the relationship a try over the summer to see if it fits.”

You nod and thank him for answering. An hour passes in silence before he bites back.

“Why do you ask?”

You chew on the end of your pencil nervously. “I was curious. They just seemed to get together out of the blue.”

He studies your expression carefully. “You broke up with Shotaro over the summer, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” you reply awkwardly. “We decided it wasn’t a good fit for us.”

He hums in understanding.

The two of you finish your homework session without any more probing questions, and Jeno is fast to locate his Slytherin best friend afterwards.

Jaemin is startled when Jeno almost runs him over outside of the Slytherin dorms.

“What’s up with you?”

Jeno huffs, out of breath from rushing all around Hogwarts in search of him.

“Things with you and Hyojung — they’re not serious, right?”

Jaemin shrugs. “She’s pretty and nice. It’s not a bad relationship.”

“But it’s not a really good one either?”

“I mean, I guess so. Why are you asking?”

“A certain Ravenclaw girl just asked me about you,” Jeno divulges. “She asked me about you, Jaemin. You were far from any topic of conversation and she was the one to bring you up first.”

Jaemin freezes at the revelation. He spent the whole summer trying to forget about you, accepting that you were happy with Shotaro and perhaps Donghyuck was right, he was starting to look pathetic chasing after you. Hyojung’s family came to visit one day in August and after seeing how heartbroken he was, she suggested they begin a relationship to try and get him to move on. He agreed, mainly because his parents always loved Hyojung and he needed to get his mind off of you.

As twisted as it sounds though, Hyojung could never compare to you.

He doesn’t understand why you’ve enraptured him like this, it was just supposed to be a silly crush. He never expected to see flickers of you when he would kiss his girlfriend or think of your laugh when he’s holding someone else’s hand.

He shakes his head from the thought.

“Jeno, I can’t. You know I spent so much time getting over her.”

His friend rolls his eyes. “And how did that work out? You still look like a love struck puppy whenever she walks by and Hyojung is still convinced she can get you to love her. Wake up, dude.”

Jaemin presses the palm of his hands to his eyes, desperately trying to erase the fantasies floating through his head.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I thought I already spelled it out for you. Free Hyojung from her misery and get your girl.”

When Jaemin approaches Hyojung the next day, his heart sinks in his chest as he registers the devastated look on her face.

“What? What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” he assures her. “I just don’t think this is working out. I haven’t been feeling any sparks.”

Her eyes well with tears and Jaemin starts to feel guilty.

“Is this about her? Are you seriously still not over her? We’ve been together for nearly five months, Jaemin!” Her sadness quickly shifts to unadulterated rage, glaring at him and hoping he’ll sink into the ground. “How could you lead me on this whole time?”

“I wasn’t trying to, Hyojung, I swear,” he promises, but they’re clearly empty to the girl in front of him.

“Go fuck yourself, Na Jaemin.”

You find Hyojung crying in the Ravenclaw common room that day. You pause when you see her crumbling on the couch with her best friend, Soeun, comforting her. They scowl when you come into their view.

“There she is, the homewrecker herself,” Soeun sneers at you.

You have no idea why the two girls are suddenly bashing on you. You hold your arms closer to your chest defensively.

“W-What?”

Hyojung stands and approaches you until she’s inches from your face.

“I don’t know why he finds you so special. You’ve never once given him the time of day yet he’ll bend over backwards to have you,” she hisses, expecting the words to sting for you.

You blink. “Who are you talking about?”

She laughs and it’s one of those hollow, maniacal laughs that sends shivers down your spine.

Soeun joins in, crossing her arms over her chest and staring at you condescendingly. “We’re not falling for your little innocent schoolgirl act. You know Jaemin and Hyojung’s parents were already planning their wedding, right? How sick of you to insert yourself into a relationship and break it apart.”

The two girls continue to berate and belittle you until the whole of Ravenclaw is convinced you’re a nasty homewrecker. You leave the common room in tears, finding solace in one of the nearby alcoves.

That’s how Jaemin finds you — sobbing into your hands and feeling the most low you’ve ever felt in your entire Hogwarts stay.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

He tries to pry your hands away from your eyes to talk to you, but you pull away from him like you’ve just been burned.

“Get away from me!” You demand, turning away from him and sniffling softly to yourself.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice filled with distress. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just want to know why you’re crying, and if I can help at all.”

You spin back around to face him. Jaemin’s heart cracks at the sight of you looking so defeated.

“Why would you break up with Hyojung because of me?” You question in a small voice, trying to stop your tears.

He stutters. “I-I didn’t break up with her because of that. The relationship never felt right.”

“Well, that’s not what she’s saying. I don’t understand why you’re so intent on ruining my life, Nana.”

“What? I would never ruin your life!”

“But you have!” You cry, not caring how unattractive you are at this moment. “You give me all this attention that I never asked for as soon as I get to Hogwarts, and suddenly everyone is referring to me as the girl who rejected Na Jaemin. Then I get a boyfriend and you’re lurking around every corner, praying for me to break up with him. And then you get a girlfriend, crush her heart, and now she’s accusing me of being a homewrecker!”

Realization washes over his features and he takes a step back from you.

“I’m sorry. You’re right, this is all my fault. I’ll clear up whatever Hyojung started and I’ll leave you alone. I’m sorry.”

You watch him disappear around the corner, throwing you one last sorrowful glance.

After you relay the day’s events while crying in Doyeon and Jimin’s arms, you wonder if you would ever speak to Jaemin again.

—

You’re in your sixth year when you haven’t spoken to Na Jaemin since the start of the term.

Hyojung approaches you when you return from the summer break, guilt-ridden by her behavior.

“I’m so sorry for saying all of those things about you. It was really immature of me to start those rumors, especially knowing that it was Jaemin’s fault, not yours. I was just angry and looking for someone to blame. I hope you can forgive me.”

You smile shyly and nod. “Thank you for apologizing. I’m sorry again for what you had to go through.”

She shakes her head. “You don’t have to say that to me. I’m going to clear up all those nasty things people are saying about the situation so please, let’s just try to move past it.”

The first few months of the term pass by quickly, with all of the rumors about you being squashed by both Hyojung and Jaemin. Soon enough, people are finding new gossip to discuss and your incident fades into the background.

You try to accept that you’ll never speak to Jaemin again. He’s completely turned into a ghost of the person you once knew. He no longer smiles whenever people call his name in the hallway or jokes around with Jeno and Donghyuck in the Great Hall.

He becomes a true, stereotypical Slytherin — emotionless and disinterested.

It concerns you, honestly. However, your friends have ruled it to be none of your business.

“But he’s just so lifeless! I just want to make sure he’s doing okay.”

Doyeon waves a finger at you like a mother scolding her disobedient toddler. “He should be the furthest thing from your mind. You need to be focused more on your studies and less on boys.”

You really start to feel like a rebellious teenager when Jimin places her hands on your shoulders and pushes you down to sit on the edge of her bed.

“One day, you’re going to grow up and realize we are just trying to do what’s best for you,” she clicks her tongue.

You frown. “It wasn’t even a year ago when you two were encouraging me to come out of my shell and date Jaemin!”

“Yes, and that was before he made you cry and got the whole school to believe you were trying to break relationships left and right,” Doyeon says, arms flailing about. “We don’t trust him like we used to.”

“Turns out he really was just a man,” Jimin sighs, shaking her head.

Despite their disapproval, you search for Jaemin that night to try and open a civil conversation with him. You want him to know that you don’t blame him for what occurred the previous year and it would be best for you both to try and move on.

You’re about to turn the corner to the Slytherin dorms when you hear a sharp gasp.

You shield yourself behind a pillar, eyes peeking out to identify the cause of the sound. You nearly choke when you see Jaemin has Lee Seojeong pressed up against the wall, his fingers hidden underneath her skirt.

Jaemin hisses lowly. “Keep quiet. You said you would.”

“I’m sorry,” she whimpers in apology. Her sorrows soon turn into cries of lust, gripping Jaemin’s shoulder tightly.

You’re frozen in your spot, unsure of what to do. Your heart is thumping wildly in your ears and you’re ashamed to admit the arousal pooling at the bottom of your stomach.

You can see Seojeong is finding it harder and harder to muffle her cries and just before she reaches her high, Jaemin’s eyes suddenly flicker over to zero in on you.

Surprise fills his features as much as it does yours, and you both ignore that Seojeong has already tipped over the edge. Jaemin withdraws his fingers from her, still staring intensely at you.

Mortified by getting caught, you quickly turn and run back to Doyeon and Jimin’s room, praying the world will swallow you whole.

Much to your chagrin, the world is not on your side.

The next day, your Charms professor announces a class project, sharing that he’s already paired up the class. And, of course, you find yourself with the Slytherin boy you’re trying your best to avoid. You’re incredibly embarrassed when Jaemin approaches your desk.

“Um,” you say bashfully, trying your best to not look at him. The burn of his stare from the previous night is still ingrained in the back of your mind. “I think we should divide the work evenly. I can start researching the history while you can look into the process of casting the charm.”

Jaemin, on the other hand, is enjoying watching you squirm. Ever since last year’s incident, he’s built up a few walls to shield himself from the lingering stories in the Hogwarts castle. He blames himself for causing you so much heartbreak and promised at the start of sixth year that he wouldn’t let people in as easily as he used to. He really only talks to Jeno and Donghyuck now, ignoring the rest of his classmates who are probably only using him as fodder to feed the lurking gossip.

As for Seojeong, she’s one of the many girls he’s been hooking up with to take his mind off of you. He accidentally slipped up a few months ago when he said your name in the midst of his release with another girl, encouraging even more people to whisper about you and him. Luckily, he shut it down before word ever got to you. He’s been a lot more careful with his restraint since then.

He never expected to meet your gaze while he was fingering Seojeong outside of the Slytherin dorms.

And he won’t lie if someone asked him if he has fantasized about your curious eyes watching him pleasure someone else before.

“That sounds fair.”

You nod at his short response, still refusing to meet his stare. You quickly gather your books in your arms.

“I-I’ll meet you at the end of the week to discuss what I find then.”

You don’t tell Doyeon or Jimin what happened that night. They question you when you return to their dorm a little frazzled and panicked, but you say that you simply saw a bug in the hallway that creeped you out.

They buy your excuse then, but grow increasingly more suspicious when you continue to act on edge for the rest of the week.

“Alright, what in Merlin is going on with you? You heard a chair squeak and I swear you jumped out of your skin,” Doyeon says, eyes narrowed at you.

Jimin leans forward on the library table to get a closer look at your flushed expression.

“N-Nothing!” You stutter, fingers rolling through the fabric of your skirt nervously. “I’m just- um, I’m just-“

They watch you flounder, eyebrows raised as you struggle to find the right words.

“Could I ask you both a question? And you have to promise that you won’t ask me any follow-up questions in return.”

Doyeon and Jimin exchange a glance before nodding hesitantly.

“Go ahead.”

You take a deep breath. “Have you two ever, you know, been with someone? Like on an intimate level?”

A moment of silence passes before questions erupt from the two.

“Is someone trying to pressure you into having sex?”

“Oh Merlin, do we have to go and kill someone? Who’s trying to put their hands on you?”

You swiftly shush them, turning your head to check if anyone in the library is eavesdropping in on you.

“You promised,” you whine.

They sigh, clearly stressed from the idea of you being pressured into anything.

Jimin speaks first. “Yes, I have. It was awkward and not that fun, if I’m being honest.”

Doyeon hums in agreement. “Definitely more pleasurable for the guy than the girl most of the time.”

“Okay,” you drawl, trying to figure out how to ask them what you’re really wondering. “So it was a one time thing? You weren’t in a relationship with them?”

They nod. You huff, pondering over the idea. You would never admit your jealousy, but the image of Jaemin pleasuring Seojeong chilled you to your core. Your mind has been swirling with frenzied thoughts all week — were they dating now? When did Jaemin suddenly start fingering girls in public? Did this mean he really wanted nothing to do with you anymore? And lastly, how did you fall so far behind your classmates sexually?

A tap on your shoulder takes you out of your trance. Doyeon and Jimin’s expressions have suddenly turned stern, lips pursed at whoever has approached your table.

“Hey, you ready to discuss our project?”

Your eyes flit up to catch the boy that has been haunting your dreams. Jaemin’s fingers brush through his hair casually, and you speculate if he knows how attractive he looks.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” you reply nervously, taking your notebook and standing to walk with him.

Doyeon says your name with fervor before you can leave. “Maybe one of us should go with you. Or you can talk about your project here.”

You don’t miss her implication and the fact that the former topic of conversation has them theorizing that Jaemin is the one bringing your sexual awakening to light.

“I think we’ll be fine,” Jaemin answers for you, ignoring their glares and escorting you to another table towards the back of the library.

You avoid his gaze as much as possible when you sit down, opening your notebook and immediately diving into the details of the Bubble-Head Charm.

“The charm can be dated back for centuries, and many wizards believe it was created to help them swim underwater-“

“Did you enjoy the show?”

His sudden question brings you out of your notes, and for the first time in a week, you take a look at him.

He’s studying you fiercely, eyes piercing into the depths of your soul.

“What show?” You ask in confusion, not understanding how this could possibly be related to your project.

“I don’t usually like an audience when I’m trying to help someone on the brink of their climax,” he says unabashedly. Your breath catches in your throat. “I find that I don’t mind it when it’s you though.”

“I think we should focus on the project, Nana,” you whisper, not realizing how easily the nickname has slipped from your lips.

“You’re still going to call me that?” He asks, eyes unexpectedly clouded with fury. “Still going to act like the innocent girl when you played the little voyeur for me?”

“Jaemin,” you say quietly, your body flaring with an equal weight of lust and embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude on you and Seojeong.”

He scoffs. “You think I care about her? I bet you pictured yourself in her place, hm? Begging for me to help you cum, looking so desperate for me in a public space,” he laughs, keeping his voice low for only you to hear his crude words. He drinks in your appalled expression. “What? Do you miss when I was the nice boy for you, helping you grab a book when you couldn’t reach it on your own? Chasing after you with my tail tucked between my legs?”

He moves his chair until he’s seated right beside you, hand resting on the inside of your thigh. You jolt at the contact, praying he doesn’t discover your wetness soaking through your panties.

“Or do you like it better when I’m straightforward like this? Telling you exactly how I want you?”

His face is inches from yours, and you can feel his breath hitting your cheek. If you move just a little closer, you could probably kiss him-

Another hand suddenly grabs your elbow, pulling you away from Jaemin’s hold.

“Get away from her!” Jimin growls while Doyeon starts to collect your things, shoving it in your bag hurriedly.

“Don’t even think about touching her again.”

Your friends whisk you away from the table, leaving Jaemin with a raging hard-on and eyes full of determination.

—

You’re in your seventh year when you desperately want Na Jaemin to kiss you.

The tables have turned quite exceptionally. Contrary to previous years, you find yourself pursuing the Slytherin boy.

After last year’s encounter in the library, you convinced Doyeon and Jimin that Jaemin’s advances were wanted by you. You had to sit them down and explain to them that yes, your questions about sex were Jaemin-related and no, they did not have to act like your moms all the time. They still held their reservations when it came to Jaemin and you, and you couldn’t blame them. Your history together was confusing to say the least, but now you could actually say you were starting to recognize the feelings you had for him.

The only problem was that Jaemin seemed to lose all interest in you.

Jimin relayed to you the information about Jaemin ceasing all communication with the girls he normally hooked up with, which you took as a good sign, but was disappointed when he made no advances to contact you again.

You failed your Charms project with him because you two couldn’t find the courage to approach one another to resume the study. Instead, you threw heart eye glances to him for the rest of the term, which he easily ignored.

You shyly approach Jeno and Donghyuck on the first day of seventh year.

“I’m sorry, what? Did you just say that you like Jaemin?”

Donghyuck is incredulous, rubbing his eyes and hitting his ears to make sure he’s seeing and hearing you correctly.

Beside him, Jeno simply smirks in understanding. “I was wondering when you’d finally admit it.”

You cower underneath their stares. “I was just going to ask if either of you know if Jaemin likes me too. I don’t think he does anymore so I want to get confirmation.”

Donghyuck laughs. “Are you kidding me? The kid moans your name in his sleep so I think it’s safe to say-“

He yelps when Jeno pinches his side, glaring at him.

“What this idiot is trying to say is that yes, Jaemin likes you. He’s only liked you since we arrived at Hogwarts and we fear he’ll only like you until he dies. I don’t know why you would think otherwise,” Jeno hums, eyebrow raised in questioning.

“Well,” you drone, twiddling your thumbs nervously. “He hasn’t talked to me at all since last year and he doesn’t treat me like he used to. He’s completely iced me out.”

Donghyuck laughs again. “Doubt that. Remember just yesterday when he accidentally said her name when he was talking to Minjeong?”

Jeno pinches his side once more and Donghyuck whines painfully in exaggeration.

“Again, what this idiot is trying to say is that maybe Jaemin is waiting for you to make the first move. He’s made his intentions pretty clear, you know, so I think the ball’s in your court.”

You ponder over Jeno’s words all week, eyes drifting to Jaemin’s figure more than you would possibly admit during classes. Doyeon and Jimin speak the Gryffindor bravery into you as you proceed towards his table in the library — the same table he cornered you at last year.

“Hi,” you squeak, fingers gripping your books to your chest for dear life.

He looks up at you, facial expression remaining neutral.

“Hi.”

“Can I- um, can I sit here?”

He nods and you take the seat beside him. Your whole body is nearly shaking from anxiety but you push through it.

“I wanted to talk to you because- well, I talked to Jeno and Donghyuck and they made me realize that it was my turn to talk to you first. I know things have been weird since the Hyojung incident and I wanted you to know I don’t blame you for that at all! I know it sounded like I was blaming you but then I realized it was just a misunderstanding and I was so overwhelmed by my emotions-“

He places a hand on your arm, stopping your rambling from continuing.

“Take a deep breath,” he says, thumb rubbing circles on your skin in comfort. “Relax. It’s just me.”

You huff and shake your head. “But that’s why I can’t relax. Because it’s you.”

His fingers move to brush the stray hairs from your face, slowly advancing downwards to caress your cheek. You recognize the slightest hint of a smirk ghosting his lips.

“Yeah? You get nervous because of me?”

You nod sheepishly. “You always make me nervous, Nana.”

His eyes darken at the nickname. “You know, you’re the only one who still calls me that.”

“Oh,” you whisper. “I’m sorry, should I stop saying it?”

Your breath hitches when his fingers trail across your bottom lip.

“You never answered my question.”

“H-Huh?”

“About whether you liked me when I was following you around like a pathetic little boy or when I’m direct with my feelings like this,” he murmurs, thumb resting on your tongue. “Suck.”

You almost moan at the instruction, wrapping your lips around the digit. Jaemin curses under his breath, drinking in your innocent eyes blinking back at him.

You pull away to respond. “I like you. I don’t care what you do — I just like you.”

“Aren’t you the fucking sweetest?” He grunts, no longer able to hold himself back as he lunges forward.

You gasp and place a hand on his chest before his lips could collide with yours.

“I-I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

He pulls back, eyebrows furrowed. “But you and Shotaro-“

“We just held hands,” you say meekly, ashamed to admit your lack of experience. “It felt too weird to kiss him.”

He suddenly stands and begins to gather his things, and your shoulders deflate. He probably doesn’t want to be with you anymore now that he knows you’re the virgin who’s never been kissed.

You’re surprised when his hand wraps around yours and he tugs you along. He pulls you out of the library and you try your best to keep up with him.

“Jaemin, where are we going?”

You seem to get your answer when you land in front of the Slytherin dorms. Jaemin quietly mutters the password to enter and you find yourself being led to a grand staircase, realizing he’s bringing you to his dorm room.

“Hey! She can’t be here!” A voice calls from the bottom of the staircase. You’re about to excuse yourself out of humiliation but Jaemin’s grip tightens on your hand.

“Go fuck yourself, Doyoung.”

“Na Jaemin!”

Once you enter Jaemin’s room, you blink at the sight of Yangyang and Donghyuck sitting on the floor, playing a game of Exploding Snap.

“Get out,” Jaemin barks.

They look up and frown, eyes moving back and forth from him to you.

“But it’s nearly midnight-“

“Get the fuck out.”

They both grumble, taking their card game and exiting the room.

“You didn’t have to kick them out,” you start to mumble, but shriek when his hand wraps around your waist, pulling your body to his.

His nose brushes against yours, and you squirm in his hold. He looks so pretty up close, and you ponder if anyone could be more perfect than him.

“Can I kiss you?”

“You still want to?”

“I’ve always wanted to, sweetheart.”

You stutter. “O-Okay.”

Your first kiss is magical. Jaemin’s lips are so soft against yours, and you melt underneath his touch. At first, the kiss is delicate and gentle, with him holding you like you could break at any second. Then, the kiss shifts into something more carnal and desperate, the weight of his body pressing closer and closer to you. His tongue begs for entrance past your lips and you easily grant it, allowing him to nearly swallow you whole.

You rub your thighs together desperately. “Nana,” you whimper.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

You have no idea how to tell him what you want, so you decide to show him instead. You grab his hand and move it until it disappears underneath your skirt, hovering dangerously close to your core.

He chuckles into your mouth. “Maybe we should take it slow. You just had your first kiss.”

“But I want more,” you whine. “I want what you gave to Seojeong.”

“Fuck,” he hisses. “You have no idea what you do to me.” His head moves downwards to press kisses along the side of your neck. “I dreamed of doing this to you nearly every night. I always wondered what pretty sounds you would make for me.”

“Wait,” you stop him and he stills, lips a few inches away from grazing your collarbone. You timidly ask, “Can I be your girlfriend?”

He smiles, raising his head to peck your lips. “You’re so perfect. You can be whatever you want, baby. I’ll buy a ring for you tomorrow if you want it.”

You giggle. “Quit teasing me.”

“It’s cute that you think I’m teasing,” he hums, voice filled with mischief. “It’s cute that you think I wouldn’t get on my knees for you and do whatever you asked.”

You swallow when he does, in fact, get on his knees for you. He pushes up your skirt so that he’s staring directly at your pretty pink panties, all cotton with a little bow in the front. You wish you had worn a sexier pair today, but you would never have guessed you’d be in this position.

You squeak when his mouth messily envelops your cunt, his tongue desperately pushing against the fabric.

You hear him grunt. “Smell so good, baby. Your pussy’s dripping for me.” His fingers hook onto the sides of your underwear, pulling it down your thighs slowly. “Do you touch yourself, sweetheart?”

You flounder. “I tried once,” you confess shakily. “I didn’t really know what I was doing.”

“Oh yeah?” He purrs, running a finger through your folds, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. “When did that happen?”

You struggle to piece a sentence together. “The n-night after I caught you and S-Seojeong. I couldn’t stop t-thinking about it.”

He clicks his tongue. “Dirty girl. You touched yourself thinking about me pleasuring someone else? You liked watching us, didn’t you?”

You whimper. “You were right — I wanted to be her so badly.”

You cry when his mouth wraps around your clit, sucking tightly. You almost fold in on yourself but Jaemin steadies you, hands gripping the back of your thighs to make sure you stay in place.

“Nana,” you beg. “That feels so good. Please don’t stop.”

However, he does withdraw himself from your cunt, evoking a mewl from you.

“No, no, please-“

He guides you towards the bed and you tilt your head in confusion when he lays down first, gesturing for you to join him.

“Come here, baby. Sit on my face.”

You blink. “W-What? That’s dangerous!”

He laughs. “Trust me, dying while eating your pussy is probably the best way to go.”

You hesitate. “Nana…”

“It’s okay, sweet girl. It’ll feel really good, I promise. And if I drown in your cunt then you can cast that Bubble-Head Charm to save me.”

“Nana!”

You decide to trust him after a brief deliberation, awkwardly maneuvering your way onto the bed and hovering over his face.

“Are you sure this is safe?”

Instead of verbally responding, he grabs a handful of your ass and plants you down until your core sits directly on his mouth. You frantically reach for the headboard to steady yourself, unable to stop the moans crawling out of your throat.

He eats you like you’re his last meal, tongue lapping at your folds and sucking on your clit. You’ve never been touched like this before — never been wanted so desperately by a man who’s willing to cut off his source of breathing just to get a taste of you. You move one hand to grip at his hair, tugging at the strands whenever a sensation grows to be too much for you.

Jaemin is locked in on a mission to get you to your orgasm. The idea of him being the first person to help you reach your climax is so incredibly arousing that he could honestly cum untouched.

You gasp when pleasure spreads across your entire body, accidentally rolling your hips to ride Jaemin’s tongue. He moans in encouragement, using his hands to guide you as you use him like a toy.

“J-Jaemin-“

He sucks your clit hard, and that sends you over. Frantic whimpers spill from your lips as you release onto his awaiting tongue. Your thighs tremble from the intensity of your orgasm, all while Jaemin laps at your gushing wetness.

The pleasure shifts to discomfort from oversensitivity and he finally allows you to draw back. You grow flustered when you pull away and see the smear of your arousal covering his face. He eagerly licks his lips and sighs in content.

Your embarrassment multiplies tenfold when you realize what you’ve done, frantically shuffling away and pulling your underwear back up your legs.

“Where are you going, baby?” He murmurs, wrapping a hand around your wrist and pulling you back to the bed. Your back meets his chest and he hums, pressing kisses to your throat.

“T-That was s-so-“

“What’s wrong, pretty girl? Are you feeling dirty now that you let a silly boy eat your little cunt?”

You squirm. “Jaemin-“

He shushes you gently. “Poor baby. You want a little more? I know your pussy’s aching for it.”

Your eyes trail downwards to the bulge in his slacks, looking like he’s about to burst through the seams.

“Will it hurt?” You ask softly, feeling slightly intimidated.

“A little bit, but I’ll help you through it.”

You nod. “O-Okay.”

He starts to move you so that you’re lying down on the bed, but you wrap a hand around his to stop him.

“Can we stay like this? I like it when you hold me this way.”

His arm snakes around your middle and he tugs you closer. “Of course, baby. You’re going to have to be patient, okay? Just take a deep breath and trust me.”

You whine when his fingers dance around the inside of your thighs.

“What are you doing?”

“Have to stretch you first or else it’s going to hurt more, okay?”

You tentatively nod and he takes your panties off for good, flinging them across the room. You’re still sensitive from your first orgasm so you nearly blubber when he pushes a finger inside of your dripping hole. The sensation feels both foreign and otherworldly, almost like an itch you’ve been dying to scratch. You cry when he curls his finger, sending shockwaves up your spine.

He tilts your head to the side so he can plant another kiss to your lips. He distracts you from a second finger joining the first as he slowly thrusts both up into you.

“Doing perfect, sweetheart,” he sighs into your mouth. “So so perfect for me. Going to add one more, alright?”

“Okay, Nana.”

He whispers more praises in your ear while you somehow find a way to fit three of his fingers inside your tight pussy. You roll your hips to feel more of him, completely stuffed full.

“That’s a good girl. Ride my fingers, baby.”

Your body reacts before your mind does, lewdly dripping down his hand as you chase another impending orgasm. Your mind is clouded by a haze of lust, feeling like an animal in heat with the way you eagerly push onto his digits.

“I think I’m gonna-“

“I know, baby. Go ahead, I’m right here,” he coaxes.

All it takes is a few more twists of your hips and his thumb flicking over your abused clit for you to cum. You shudder, cunt pulsing around him as you come down from your high. You whimper when he withdraws his fingers and brings them to his mouth, licking up remnants of your wetness.

“How did that feel?”

You squeak. “It felt good.”

He smiles and kisses you once more. “Pretty girl. Want to take my cock now?”

You nod shyly, allowing him to unzip his pants and unsheath his length. Your eyes widen slightly at the size of him, his cock angrily red and tip leaking.

“That looks like it hurts,” you comment on his swelling shaft as he adjusts your bodies so that your cunt is hovering over him.

“It does, sweetheart. And you’re the only one who can make it better. Now take a deep breath for me.” You obey his command, inhaling and exhaling slowly to prepare yourself. He turns your head again to look at him. “You don’t have to say it back, but I love you, okay? Loved you since our first year here. Want to make this feel good for you.”

Your eyes suddenly well with tears. “I love you too, Nana. And I trust you, more than anyone else.”

His grin is blinding and his lips smack against yours, the tip of his cock slowly pushing into your waiting cunt. You painfully whine and he holds you tighter, reminding you to relax and breathe. He drives you lower and lower until you’re nearly halfway down his cock, and you gasp loudly. His thumb returns to your clit, circling the bud gently to help you along.

“Doing okay, sweetheart?”

You shake your head. “Y-Yeah, keep going, Nana.”

He sings praises in your ear until he’s bottomed out and you were definitely wrong before — this is what it feels like to be completely stuffed full. He lets you adjust to his size until your tiny cries of discomfort shift into whimpers of pleasure.

“Going to start moving now. Tell me if it’s too much, baby.”

He gives an experimental thrust that has you moaning.

“Good, good,” you breathe, encouraging him to keep going.

He starts pushing into you gradually, groaning at the feeling of your warm walls wrapped tightly around his cock.

“I’m not going to last, baby.”

You squeal when his thrusts increase speed, his thumb pressing harder against your clit.

“Ungh, ungh, ungh-“

Vulgar sounds echo in the tiny dorm room with your wetness leaking down Jaemin’s cock and his skin slapping against yours forcefully. You feel like you could easily come again, but your mind screams at you that something’s missing.

“Nana?”

He’s drilling into you now, trying his best to move you up and down his cock at a rapid pace.

“Yeah, baby- fuck,” he hisses, not knowing if you realize how your pussy constantly clenches around him. “What is it?”

“Can you kiss me?”

He swears he’s been blessed by Merlin himself to have a girl as sweet as you. He grants your wish, enveloping his lips with yours and swirling his tongue inside your mouth sloppily.

The simple gesture is enough to serve as the snap to your third orgasm. He moans when he feels your cunt spasm, and he finally releases his warm seed deep into your womb.

You both try to catch your breath as you come down from your high. He kisses you again, and it’s a messy mix of saliva and tongues, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I really liked that,” you confess, and he laughs.

“Good, because we’re going to be doing it a lot from now on. I’m not wasting any more time with you.”

—

You’re about to graduate from Hogwarts when Doyeon and Jimin can’t find you.

You’re meant to be boarding the enchanted boats soon — a ritual that all seventh years take during the end of their Hogwarts stay. All three of you promised to take a boat together, but your two friends can’t seem to find you anywhere.

“Do you think she got kidnapped?”

“Why do you always jump to kidnapping?” Jimin sighs exasperatedly. “I bet you Jaemin just couldn’t take his paws off of her.”

And they would be very correct as Na Jaemin is currently pounding you in the Charms classroom, fingers crumpling your skirt as he watches his cock disappear into your pussy.

“W-We’re gonna m-miss the boats,” you moan, clutching your desk and whining pathetically.

“Don’t give a fuck. You’re the one who wouldn’t let me get my share of this pussy last night.”

“I was hanging out with Doyeon and Jimin! It was our last night in the castle together.”

“Yeah, just like it’s my last time getting to fuck you in this classroom.”

He thrusts into the particular spot that has you keening, back arched as you moan loudly. Usually, your boyfriend would try to keep you quiet, but considering today’s your last day of schooling, he doesn’t see the point.

What could they do, expel you? You already finished all of your exams.

A screech erupts in the doorway and he hears Jimin’s infuriated voice.

“I told you! Jaemin, give the girl a break!”

You cry as you reach your climax, squirting all over Jaemin’s cock and scattering your wetness across the floor. He groans and buries himself deep inside of you, spurting ropes of his cum until his cock begs him for some rest.

“They say when you raise kids that you should expect the day they disappoint you. I didn’t know that this is what they meant,” Doyeon sighs.

You quickly fumble to pull on your skirt and Jaemin tucks himself back into his slacks.

“It smells awful in here! How long have you two been going at it?” Jimin hisses, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“A couple of hours,” he replies with a smirk, wincing when you hit his chest as a warning.

You shakily stand and try to make yourself look presentable. “I’ll be right there!” You call out to your friends, ignoring the perturbed look on their faces. You would normally be ashamed, but that feeling disappeared months ago when they constantly caught you and Jaemin fucking in almost every inch of the castle.

Before you can leave, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in for another kiss.

“I’ll see you on the train, baby?”

“You can’t fuck her on the train!”

You both breeze past Jimin’s comment.

“I’ll see you there. Love you.”

“Love you. And hey, I think you’re pretty.”

You giggle and press your lips to his again.

Doyeon and Jimin take you away before the kiss can progress into another round of fucking.

#nct smut #jaemin #jaemin smut

[queers-gambit]

Affirmation King

prompt: ( requested ) attending university as a full-time student is hard, but your boyfriend makes some of the stress worth it.

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 3.1k+

note: author gives unsolicited advice in the form of sharing a citation website to make college essays a little easier! this is not meant as promotion or anything, it's just your author trying to share a resource they know of.

warnings: cursing, small hurt large comfort (reader snaps a little at Carmy but he handles it like a fucking pro), author gives unsolicited college advice in the form of a recommended website, reader is in a masters program and not undergrad, fluff.

The 16 inch screen glared into your retinas, fingers feeling numb from the hours pounding away at the loose keyboard. When the screen started to warble and darken, your head ducked down slightly to try and preserve your visual; glaring up at the offender when they pressed the screen closed after forcing you to retract your hands.

"You're cute and all, but not so cute as to interrupt me like that," you deadpanned, eyes wide and burning from your lack of lubrication via blinking.

"You've been sat here for hours, it's time for a break."

"Funny when I say that to you, it's always, 'Get outta my kitchen.'"

Carmy smirked, "Come eat something."

"Let me finish this essay and - "

"No, it's time for a meal."

You felt your irritation spike, narrowing your eyes slightly, "I'm on a deadline, Carmen, so either be fucking helpful and productive or get the fuck out of my space. I've got work to do and you're just slowing me down."

He offered a patient look, asking, "Is that what you really wanted to say?"

You paused, then shook your head, "No... May I try again?"

"Of course," he nodded.

"I appreciate you trying to... Alleviate some of my stress," you spoke slowly, stringing the sentence together in realtime, "but this project isn't something I can ignore right now, so, I'd like to finish this thing before we do whatever else."

"Better," he teased, knowing you ran a short fuse when stressed out and overworked. "What's got you riled up?"

"I have this 20-page paper due."

"20 pages!?"

"It's not that bad, honestly, once you have your thesis together," you chuckled dryly. "it's just time consuming and meticulous."

He frowned and stepped forward to press a kiss to your forehead, mocking in a sarcastic tone, "You're doing amazing, sweetie."

"I'm so tired," you pouted up at him. "Do I really need this degree? This is so much stress for such a little thing such as a piece of paper that cost me $50k just to say I'm allowed to join the work force."

"Hey, hey," he laughed. "Just remember what you're working towards. You're one assignment closer to your internship turning into a full-time gig, right?"

You nodded, "You're right. I want that job so bad... I just hate how busy I feel - it's like, how can I remember to eat let alone write 6 different response posts to my classmate's work?"

Carmy nodded with empathy, "Just remember that end goal, baby. Keep grinding, keep moving. Almost at the finish line, right?"

"Right," you nodded with a smile. "Thank you, angel face."

Carmy smiled at you before softly asking, "Want me to bring you anything? Something to eat, drink, a condom?"

"Stop quoting Mean Girls at me!"

His hands shot up in defense, deflecting, "I was just trying to be a gracious host. If the missus wants anything, I'll make sure she has it."

"Pretty sure 'missus' is a term used for wives - " His groan made you laugh lightly, then covering, "No, thank you, baby, I'm okay. I should only be about another hour or so...?"

"All right, yeah, sure. I'll start dinner in 30, okay?"

"Sure," you smiled, already distracted again as you lifted your screen again to stare at the Word document that had been haunting your hard-drive for about 3 weeks now.

"Hey," he interrupted, "don't forget your glasses."

"Thank you," you mumbled, reaching for the special, blue-light filtering glasses Carmy had gifted you when you first started your Master's program. He claimed staring at a computer screen was going to cause long-term damage (he read an article) and got you a pair, which, you had to admit, made a huge difference.

Your hair was raked into a new bun as you reread the last of your essay, trying to get back in the academic mindset in order to finish the last bit of your assignment. There were textbooks spewed around your work table; laptop plugged in, highlighters and pens and notebooks within reach and a nearly-finished bottle of water was set to the side. You wrote ferociously once you got back on the right mental track, feeling your headache stir to life as you blindly reached for your water bottle.

However, when you picked it up, you blinked in mild shock when the bottle was heavier than before. Glancing over, you realized Carmy had replaced the bottle because there, under where it had sat, he left you a handwritten note:

replenish what you lost from crying!

You chuckled, knowing you were a stress cryer and when tackling big assignments like this, you were ten times as stressed as usual. Still you worked, even putting your headphones on to play soothing background noise - like rainfall. Your neck cramped, back ached, temples throbbed, and hands were cramping. Still you worked, using sticky notes to flag the important quotes you wanted to use from your textbooks and notebooks. Your stomach growled, your eyes begged for reprieve, chest felt tight, and shoulders were too tense.

Still. You. Worked.

Deadlines were important to you, and while you were a professional procrastinator, you always turned everything in on time - no matter your mental state. You could smell whatever Carmy had started cooking, focused on writing as you only used spellcheck as you went - and still you worked. You knew you surpassed the hour limit you told Carmy, but you couldn't stop, you were so close to finishing, it almost put tears back in your eyes, but this time out of relief. You only paused to look at online sources and apply chapstick, cracking your tightly-wound knuckles, and when you finished the last body paragraph of the essay, grinned to yourself.

All that was left was your conclusion, to create a bibliography, and to edit - but you were almost home free!

Suddenly, you jumped in fright when a hand planted on your shoulder; whipping around to see your boyfriend's own startled expression. "Sorry," Carmy apologized with a wince when you removed your headphones, "didn't mean to scare you, just wanted to check on you."

You nodded, 'Yeah, no, I'm almost done. Like give me 20 minutes, almost done-almost done."

He smiled softly, "Dinner's ready when you are."

"I'll be there soon, thank you, angel face."

"Can I help with anything?"

"Uh," you cocked your head, "you know what? Maaaaybe..."

"Really?" He grinned, perking up. "You never let me help!"

"It's not really work, per se," you amended, "but would you mind letting me read this out loud to you - see if it makes sense? The mark of a good writer is to act as if the audience knows nothing about the subject and make them understand, and you're exactly that."

"Lemme hear it," he nodded, taking a seat, "I might not be much help but I can still try."

You agreed and finished typing the outline of your conclusion, then scrolled to the top of your word document, and explained to him what your class was before starting to read. He listened intently, sitting on a spare stool with his elbows resting on his knees; keeping him leaned forward to provide his undivided attention. You managed to reword a few sentences, only noticing they didn't make sense when you read them out loud. Once or twice, Carmy even offered an alternative phrasing you liked - making the changes and rereading, then continuing through your assignment.

By the end, you were able to beef up the conclusion and Carmy was grinning at you in pride. "That's real good, baby," he complimented, "it all made sense and rolled nice together. I think that has to be an 'A'-worthy paper."

"You should be the one grading theses, my professor's the worst," you frowned. "It's why I got so in my head, I got a fucking 76 on my last essay and need to do really well on the next few to help average my grade."

"What about the tests?"

"We don't have any, this class is all about writing material and turning it in," you pouted.

"Hey," he spoke seriously, making you look at him in question, "I'm really proud of you."

You giggled nervously, "Oh, yeah? Why? What for?"

"For doing this," he nodded to the desk. "Look at all you're doing, baby, there's no way I'd ever be able to keep up with this kinda shit. You're doing such a great fucking job - I want you to remember that. What you're doing ain't easy, but you're handling this like a pro."

"I cry, like, everyday..."

"So what? You still get shit done while emoting - call that multitasking, baby."

"Got me there."

"Seriously, though, you're not told enough what a fantastic job you're doing; how strong and resilient you have to be to deal with this kind of stress day-in and day-out. I see the hard work you put in," he promised, "and I want you to know how fucking proud I am of you. It's all gonna be worth it one day, but until then, I love watching you grind through school. I might not take the classes with you, but I'll help however I can, whenever I can."

"Thank you," you whispered. "It's really nice to hear... I feel myself burning out and it's nice to be reminded that what I do now will influence my future. Validates me in feeling stressed out, you know? Sometimes, I feel silly 'cause, like, there's so many bigger things to be upset about and here I am, stressed out at a place that's guaranteed to stress me out..."

"It's not silly, it's normal. College ain't easy," he reminded, "and you're just trying to keep yourself afloat."

"Yeah, but there's bigger things in life than something trivial as my education."

Carmy scoffed at you, shaking his head, "Ain't no way."

"What?"

"My girl just said her feelings are trivial... Nah, she said her emotions about her education is trivial," he shook his head again. "Should wash your mouth out with soap - talkin' crazy like that. Baby, you know, first and foremost, your education is high on our priorities list, but your emotions? You think they're trivial? Nah, if anything causes you to have any emotion, it's valid - it's not something silly or redundant."

You pouted slightly, "You always know what to say."

"Hungry?"

"You're the perfect man," you laughed, looking at your document again and humming. "Okay, so, lemme just cite my sources and turn this in."

"Then you wanna have date night?" He smirked.

"No, no, I'm so tired - "

"I meant we can stay in."

"Oh, then count me in!"

"Change into something cozy when you're done, we can watch a movie with dinner. Yeah?"

You agreed, accepted his kiss of encouragement, and then took his leave to reheat the dinner that had surely cooled off. It didn't take long to cite everything when you used an online citation source website - that IS N O T plagiarizing! It's a handy-dandy tool you discovered your undergraduate freshman year by an actual professor. It was as simple as choosing which style, APA or MLA, and then to either paste the URL of the website you need sourced or you type in the book's information. Hit the generate button and BAM! A perfect citation for your bibliography every single time.

Or if you didn't like that, you could always just Google citation examples and do your best to write it out yourself. But the website, Citation Machine dot net, was a great tool. After perfecting your in-text citations and saving your work, you uploaded it to your university's assignment portal, crossed the essay off your to-do list, and stretched on your feet.

Cleaning up your space minimally, you hustled to your bedroom to get a quick hot, relieving shower, change, and then met Carmy in the kitchen. "Hey," you sighed with a soft smile.

"Hey, doll. All done?"

"For tonight," you groaned, "but tomorrow's a new day with new assignments."

"That's a future problem we'll handle at a later time," he eased, showing you your dinner plate. "Ta-daaaa!"

You grinned, "Oh, baby, this looks amazing!"

"Yeah, well, I kinda figured as a full-time student right now, nobody was gonna remind you what incredible job you're doing, so, I'm more than happy to step up to the plate. And what better treat than your favorite meal, huh?"

"Thank you," you whispered, pecking his lips.

You often thought his love language was "food", but then you realized it was technically under the acts of service and quality time. He loved cooking for you - it was like a gift. He loved cooking with you - it was time spent bonding. He loved introducing you to new dishes - it's a present! He loved when you let him give you a culinary lesson - it was time well spent.

"C'mon," Carmy lead you to the living room, both crashing on the couch you had been gifted from your grandmother's house when she was put in a nursing home. Normally, you wouldn't have splurged on something like this, but considering it was free, you and Carmy were happy to use it. Settling together on the couch, you got cozy under a shared blanket and Carmy flicked some movie on for background noise, but instead of watching, he just asked you about your coursework.

You told him what you could, shaking your head and huffing about how annoying your program was. How hectic. How jam packed and fast-paced it all seemed to be. How your head felt like it was spinning. How you couldn't nail down workable coping mechanisms and just felt totally out of control. You were spiraling.

You needed this rant session.

Carmy listened intently.

He never once tried to say, "oh, but if you had time management," or anything like, "if you do THIS instead..." or some bullshit, "my way works better." His bright and wide blue eyes watched you the entire time, sighing when you got to the end of your meal and vent session.

"It just feels like, I turn in one assignment, I get three more right after. Turn in those three, and all of a sudden, there's another 10!"

"Does the syllabus say anything about that?" He wondered.

"No, it just said what our reading schedules were and when major assignments are due. But those dates all got shuffled around that it feels like a train wreck. You know, if the original schedule was kept from the syllabus, I wouldn't feel so worked up! It's the rearrangement and added assignments without warning that's throwing me off."

"That doesn't sound easy," he validated. "Anything I can do to help?"

"No, you're doing more than enough," you whispered, pecking his lips. "Thank you for dinner."

"I made dessert, too."

"No!" You gasped with a grin.

"Mhm - wait here. I'll grab it."

"Wow, dinner, movie, and dessert?" You teased, "I'm being spoiled tonight."

"You've been working your ass off for weeks now," he smirked, standing from his seat to pick up your plates, "this is the least I could do. I know I said it, but you know how good a job you're doing, right? Damn, baby," he chuckled, "ain't no way I could ever handle shit like that on the regular."

"I could't do what you do, either."

"We all balance our crazy different. Want some tea? Wine?"

"Tea would be great."

"Comin' up."

When Carmy returned, you pulled the blanket back to let him sit again with the dessert plate between you both; two steaming mugs of tea sat on the coffee table. "What's this?" You wondered, seeing a sort of pastry.

"Marcus told me 'bout this," he chuckled. "Kinda like a poor man's version of this one thing he makes. So, look, it's Pillsbury Crescent Rolls, right? In the middle, there's raspberry preserves - or jam if you want that instead. It's baked then drizzled in melted white chocolate."

"Wow, you got all fancy on me," you beamed.

"Hardly, more like I was a little impulsive after hearing your essay. Figured you could use some dessert - you really earned it, baby. You always earn dessert," he grinned, "but tonight, you were kickass. Know that? Hear me?"

You shook your head, "This is nothing compared - "

"Hey, hey, nah," he interrupted, "nah, nah, don't do that, don't try to invalidate or downplay yourself. Look, shit is always hard in college, right? But you handle it so well, I can see the work you're putting in and the little reward you receive in return, and know that shit's gotta add up for you. But my baby just keeps cool, does her work, and does what she can to earn the grades she does. Right?"

"I mean, I try to..."

"You succeed. C'mon, lemme hear you say it. 'I kick college's ass.'"

"I kick college's ass."

"'I work hard.'"

"Carmy - "

"Saaay it!"

You huffed, "I work hard."

"'I'm an incredible hard worker.'"

"I'm an incredible hard worker."

"'I am only human.'"

Another breath in, repeating, "I am only human."

"'I am a success.'"

"I try to be a success."

"That wasn't the quote."

"Well, I don't know if I'm succeeding because grades aren't finalized yet and I have - "

"No, no, no," he smirked again, "you're still successful 'cause you're doing such a kickass job. You could get a fucking 'D' on something, and guess what? You're still successful 'cause you don't let this tear you down, you learn from mistakes and apply whatever lessons you learn to your upcoming assignments. Some people say you might even learn more from losing and failing than from undisputed success. Look, I'll be honest, I thought my job was hectic as shit, but hearing your essay tonight? Goddamn, you're not just beautiful, but so fucking intelligent, too. Baby, I was shook - that sounded like some academic paper that college kids need to defend their thesis or some shit. Something scholarly, not some assignment you gotta hand in by a deadline so you just wrote down whatever. So, give yourself credit and tell yourself you're a success."

With a long, deep breath, you answered earnestly, "I'm a success."

"Good girl," he muttered, handing you a fork finally. However, unlike Mikey all those years ago, you didn't launch your utensil at anyone and used it to cut off a corner of pastry.

You moaned when you tasted the gooey goodness. You managed through a mouthful, "Mmhhh! Mhm! Mhm! If you make this every time I have some assignment pissing me off and stressing me out, I'm afraid I'll get used to this treatment."

Carmy grinned, "You deserve whatever dessert you want, whenever you want. Huh? Yeah? Lemme hear you say it."

With another grin, you mused, "I deserve whatever I want, when I want it... And however I want it!"

"Atta girl!"

"You're so fucking corny," you laughed lightly, feeling as if you were falling in love with him again, "but thank you, my Affirmation King."

requesting rules and masterlist

The Bear masterlist

#carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x fem!reader #carmy berzatto fluff #carmen carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x female!reader #carmy berzatto x you #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #hulu the bear #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto fic #carmy berzatto fanfiction #the bear carmy

[chubsonthemoon]

Last Binderary book is DONE!!!! This is the incredible Maybe sprout wings, by @moorishflower.

This post is going to be a doozy, so gonna just skip straight to the cut!

INTERIOR

INTRODUCTION

I really wanted to model this bind after my own copy of the Odyssey, (which is all highlighted and bookmarked and annotated to hell from my Great Text courses in undergrad ehe, so this bind was such a fun trip down memory lane!). But beyond just the cover/general aesthetic, I also wanted to give the book a similar feel to these kinds of editions of classics--there's usually an introduction, translation notes, and other supplementary materials, right? Like, a physical manifestation of the work of many, many people, all having conversations with one another across time and space.

So that's what I did! I wrote a short introduction (I will also probably post it to my AO3/my blog as well, in the name of preservation etc. etc.) and began reaching out to folks in the fandom who I knew had created art and meta for the fic. The result? 18k words of analysis, comments, and meta, and nearly twenty pages of art!

And this is what I love most about this bind, I think! This book is the work of several people--truly a collaborative work by the fandom--all of whom I will now be shamelessly calling out below :D

CHAPTER HEADER ART

First and foremost, this book would not be what it is without the gorgeous header art by @fancy-rock-dove! Thank you so much Dove for letting include your work, and for being so supportive and kind these past few weeks about this bind <3 You in particular have contributed so much to this book (which I will be getting more into in the next section ehe), and I'm so psyched I get to hold your art and words, too!

NOTES ON THE TEXT

This section was divided into four parts: Asks and Answers, Meta, Selected Comments, and Chapter Heading Art: Process

For Asks and Answers, I trawled Heather's blog for meta she had written in response to questions and other meta about the fic. Asks came from @fancy-rock-dove, @quillingwords, @kulapti, and myself! (I THINK I got all of them--tumblr's search function is finnicky even on its best days, so so sorry if I missed something T_T) I first got hooked into reading this fic because of one of these asks, so I'm very fond of this section in particular :D

For Meta, I included two wonderful essays written by @pastrypuppy (also known as @kulapti) about Hob as an author figure and the Disrupted Fisher King narrative in MSW. Her analyses were so fascinating and I just had to include them in the book! (And thank you as well for your permission, friend!) (also hello fellow Renegade comrade 🫡)

For Selected Comments, I owe everything to (once again :3) @fancy-rock-dove, whose insights are the epitome of transformative fandom at work. I'd look for their comments after I read every chapter to see what their takes were on this or that element of the story, and every single time I would go "!!!!! I didn't even realize!!!" or "OOOOOOOH I hadn't thought of that!!" It was like being in a lecture hall and always whipping your head around when one of your classmates raised their hand, because you knew they were going to say something fascinating that you hadn't considered before.

Aside from one of my own comments, Dove's comments make up the entirety of this section (for which I owe you my life--your long-form responses to fics are a gift to this world) but GOSH was it also so much fun going through the comments section while typesetting and seeing all the keyboard smashing, yelling, and crying from the other commenters. Communal nature of storytelling and ongoing meaning-making of fanfiction, babey!

And finally for Chapter Heading Art: Process: once again Dove coming in clutch with some wonderful insights into the design of each of the chapter heading art pieces! This kind of stuff is honestly my favorite: meta about art for a fic which is, in turn, a transformation of an existing story (not even to mention that The Sandman is its own kind of fanfiction of existing mythologies and histories)--I just!! Think it's all really, really neat :'D (for more coherent/polished thoughts on this pls see my introduction asjdfkls)

ART

The art gallery!!! A million thanks to @fishfingersandscarves, @honeyseller, @jazzpsych, @doctor-rainbowfoxey, and (HI AGAIN DOVE) @fancy-rock-dove for granting me permission to include all of your beautiful pieces!

As usual for artworks in my binds, I printed each piece out on specialty photo paper to really make the colors pop, then sewed each page separately to the text block! Behold, everyone's beautiful beautiful pieces!

The art gallery also satisfies the certain "oooh shiny" part of my brain that always activates when I see pictures in a book, so am also very fond of this section :3

CONSTRUCTION

And now on to the nitty gritty stuff! I used the German Bradel binding technique again, my second time using it. Even though it's more complicated than the case bind, I really love how it gives you the full board space for the cover designs (~it's free real estate~). Keep it a secret but I kiiiiiiind of made a small goof in the last few steps (I did the turn-ins a step too early and so had to paste an extra sheet of cardstock to secure the spine to the boards, whoopsie), but it's a pretty small difference, aesthetically speaking, so it wasn't the end of the world XD

Edges are once again fake gilded, but this time I tried something new with the colors! I did two layers of acrylic paint--one watered down shade of red for the base, then one metallic gold on top of that. I really like the red/gold effect! I'll have to keep experimenting with this kind of layering:

ALSO. Y'ALL! I think I'm finally getting the hang of endbands!!! Many thanks to the folks at Renegade who hosted all the endband workshops last month--I'm still working through them, but even the few sessions I've seen have been TREMENDOUSLY helpful. I learned that tension is Very Important, as well as thread thickness, so I tried doubling my thread and keeping a Very Close Eye on how I was holding the threads while doing the beads. And behold! I still have a ways to go (and one day I would LOVE to do the fancier designs), but I'm v happy with the progress I've made so far!

And finally the covers!! ARCHIVAL MOD PODGE MY BELOVED. I printed on the same matte presentation paper that I used for the art, then did several coats of archival matte mod podge + a pass of gloss mod podge over the title strip to make it ~shiny~. Then once those had dried and I'd adhered them to the boards, I sprayed two layers of matte clear acrylic sealer (also mod podge!) to finish it off. I had some issues with the paper tearing when I handled it before it was fully dry, but luckily the blemishes were small enough that it was easy to do spot corrections with my black acrylic paint. And now I know to be more patient next time LOL

(some non-photoshoot shots that show the shine a little better!)

FINAL THOUGHTS

I had a lot of thoughts while I was binding this book--about Sandman fandom, about Dreamling fandom, about the Odyssey, about storytelling, about fanbinding, about Binderary, about Renegade, about my friends--but really what came to mind the most was gratitude!

Simply put, I'm so grateful to everyone I've met both in this fandom and throughout the years I've been active online--this is SO fun, y'all. It's so much fun to love stories together--to talk about them, to write them, and of course to bind them! I hope I've adequately conveyed that gratitude.

But of course, this book would not exist without the wonderful words of @moorishflower. Heather, thank you so, SO much for sharing your stories, thoughts, and time with us--it is always a happier, better day when I get an email notif from you and when I see you on my dash. I love your work so much, and I'm so happy I finally get to put it on my shelf! So thank you so much again, for everything <3

and OKAY THAT'S IT FROM ME FOLKS!!!!! Binderary 2023 is officially a wrap! I had SUCH a blast--will probably write up a reflection post on it uhhhh after I take a very long nap ajslkdfjslk _(:3」∠)_

all my love! <3

#the sandman #dreamling #Moorishflower #Maybe sprout wings #binderary2023 #bookbinding #fanbinding #ficbinding #not my fic

[capegloam]

I used to be a close transmasc friend of yours but you have genuinely made me (and others) sick with your fake top surgery tattoos. It's disrespectful, it makes fun of and trivialises a symbol of progress/pride that relates nothing to you. Binding is damaging and painful, you have no idea the pain actually transmasc people go through daily, hourly, by the minute or second to bind. You have no idea the pain of personally growing up transmasc. It's layered and it's complicated and it is Not yours. It will never be yours. You are appropriating our pain. Its disgusting. You are going to lose many friends and make many enemies for this. Hope you have fun faking being transmasc, I see half of Twitter already believes you. I don't want drama with you, or want you to publicly share this or talk to me. I'm just sharing this with you because it has made me sick to my stomach ever since I saw it. And this is an action you need to seriously rethink. You need to publicly come clean on those posts that you are not transmasc. I can tell you've worded it so it's hard for people to tell. You are lucky I haven't publicly made a statement.

woke up today to all of these anons. unsure if they are all the same person but I'm going to treat them as such.

the fact of the matter is, my gender identity is more complicated than "i want to be transmasc". twitter is a horrible place to explain myself because of the character limit, and because i don't like justifying myself to people i don't know. Seeing as i've now been kicked/banned from a specific discord server i used to be in, i know exactly who this is, and i finally feel comfortable explaining myself fully. i know you, i care for you, and we're here on tumblr where i can actually sit down and write a proper essay. Thank you.

i'll break down my responses specifically to what you said, because I want this to be a good conversation.

(under the cut because its long, lol)

"it's disrespectful, it makes fun of and trivializes a symbol of progress/pride that relates nothing to you" — I derive no comedy from the tattoo. I didn't decide I wanted it lightly. saying that it "makes fun of" that symbol is categorically a misinterpretation of my earnest & sincere intent. I wear my heart on my sleeve, always.

saying that my experience "relates nothing" to the transmasc experience is a true statement. I started with a body I should've been comfortable in. The truth is—I was not—I am not comfortable with my body. I don't want a binary body. But my transition experience? was not anything like the transmasc one. I grew out my hair. I bought skirts and dresses. I began collecting earrings, all of them gifts from friends who love me. But when I approached HRT, I realized I wasn't happy with being a woman. I didn't want to get closer to a newer, different binary body. I wanted to be both, trans man and trans woman, simultaneously. I am bigender and nonbinary. to boil me down to "just wants to be transmasc" completely ignores the other half of me that wants breasts, that wants a feminine chest. my next step with my transition is, honestly, purchasing a breast form.

the issue now becomes, why get the tattoo if thats how i feel? if I still want a chest in some form or another?

because, I don't want my bare chest to be a source of dysphoria for that part of me. Remember, at the same time that I want breasts, i also don't want them. at the same time that I want long hair, i want short hair. at the same time I want masculine clothes, i want skirts. I am all of these things and MY PAIN is not being able to be everything combined all at once. It is, frankly, an impossible transition goal.

The scars take my natural chest and they turn it into something new that acknowledges my hypocrisy, that its not just the body of a man, that there is room for more, here. Just because it looks flat doesn't mean thats all it could be, or thats all it was. I want that symbol of transformation because I wish I got to transform. What is more "trans" than wanting to transform?

I will never be transmasc. That just doesn't properly describe my experiences, and it doesn't even fit my feelings about myself. But, at the end of the day, top scars don't belong just to transmasc people, they belong to nonbinary people too. AFAB people who don't seek being gendered one way or the other get top surgery, too. That's the group I feel closest aligned with, (except I want to be gendered both ways, simultaneously, rather than not being gendered at all).

ANYWAYS. thats the deep and thorough explanation of my gender i've been holding back from sharing on twitter. I don't even want to begin to imagine how many tweets long that thread would be LMAO.

back to breaking down your responses, sorry for the tangent. I felt that it was pertinent to illustrate how this tattoo is still a symbol of progress and pride to me, and how I relate to it through my experiences, so you can understand me. I still care about you. you will always be a friend in my mind, so you deserve it.

"Binding is damaging and painful, you have no idea the pain transmasc people go through" — I am well aware of the side effects of binding. They are the reason I didn't pursue HRT to obtain a chest, with binding as a solution for me still wanting a flat chest simultaneously.

That being said, I am living with the consequences of binding. My partner cannot breathe normally, and I constantly feel concern for his wellbeing whenever we need to do something physical (move furniture, walk uphill, etc.) BECAUSE of his history of binding. I know the damage it does.

"You have no idea the pain of growing up transmasc. It is not yours, it will never be yours" — this is true, though I could similarly say that you have no idea the pain of my strange feelings either. Just because we don't experience each other's exact pain doesn't stop us from feeling empathy for each other, for wanting better for each other.

The difference between us is—when I see someone in pain, i want them to do whatever they need to do to relieve that pain. when YOU see someone in pain—with MY pain, my strange pain that you don't understand (that you THINK you understand, but you don't)—your instinct is to use YOUR pain as a justification for hurting others. The fact that you're hurting is an awful one, and I am sorry I can't help you relieve it. But when you see another person happy because they've found a way to relieve some of THEIR OWN pain, it makes you angry. It doesn't make you happy that I found a way to transform my painful, dysphoric relationship with my body into a euphoric one.

as a community, we should rejoice and be happy when other trans people successfully make steps towards defeating their personal struggles with their body. We should be empathetic to each other's experiences. I understand your anger, but its not justified.

"You are going to lose many friends and make many enemies for this" — so far the only friend I've lost is you. all of my irl friends have been supportive, my partners are supportive, my online friends are supportive. Do all of them understand my complicated gender identity? No. I think maybe a lot of them think its a little stupid, honestly. But they're still happy for me. I'm very lucky to have friends who love me. I love them a lot, too, and they know it.

The enemies I've made from this don't know me, and I don't know them. They're not worth my time. You're different—YOU, anon, are worth my time. I know you. I care for you. Long after you have buried me in the ground for being a horrible person (in your eyes), i will still be thinking positively of you. I will still be rooting for you. That will never change.

"I don't want... you to publicly share this" — I'm sorry but you can't control what I do. If you wanted this to be private we should've had a private conversation about it. I was waiting for you to DM me and you never did. I wanted to have this conversation, and this is the place we have to do it, now that you've sent me these anons.

"I can tell you've worded it so its [hard to tell that you're not transmasc]" — This is true. I don't feel like spending 2 hours typing heartfelt responses to people I don't know on x dot com. (Thats how long its been, btw. I've been writing this for 2 hours now. Hopefully that stands for something—to help you understand how much I believe you deserve this explanation. I believe you deserve a lot more than what i've given you.)

I did not obscure my AGAB on purpose. I just think it doesn't matter and is not important enough to disclose. I'm nonbinary and I want a nonbinary body. That should be the end of the story, as far as the greater trans community should be concerned.

"You need to publicly come clean that you aren't transmasc"

quite frankly, its a little uncomfortable for you to assert that I should have to "come clean" about my AGAB. An interest in the genitals of trans people is something transphobes are particularly keen on. I think you should consider the parallels between your arguments and theirs. You still have some internalized transphobia to unpack.

I was there once too. I've already forgiven you.

Anon 2

I feel like I've already addressed your arguments here. I don't care what people who don't know me have to say about me. They don't know me.

You should consider your status as a popular furry artist, anon. Its not unreasonable to assume that people agreed with you purely because of your following. I've received supportive messages from several people I met in your discord server about my tattoo, so I can assure you that not everyone in your circle feels the same way you do.

Anon 3

I'm not lying about being transgender. Nonbinary is a transgender identity. Your interest in my AGAB, asserting that I need to come clean about it, is a transphobic assertion. Attacking a nonbinary person because you feel that they aren't being trans the right way is textbook nonbinaryphobia.

Anon 4 — "My binder made me sick today, i couldn't eat i felt faint and ill" — i'm genuinely sorry to hear that. No one deserves to have to endure that kind of pain for so long. You deserve better. You deserve to look at your body and feel happy. Everyone does.

"I felt sick remembering what you did. That you don't take transmasc pain seriously, or respect us" — I do take your pain seriously, and I respect you as a person. This long thoughtful post is evidence of that.

I understand the disgust you feel at the thought that someone would want to feel the pain you feel. But thats never what I wanted. Thats what you believe I wanted.

The truth is I have my own pain too. my own, personal, complex pain, which i've attempted to explain above. I shouldn't have to be burdened with explaining it to everyone who asks. I don't owe them my soul. I owe my soul to my friends and my partners, and I give it freely when asked by them. You asked. on tumblr dot com, my friend.

If thats not respect, then I don't know what is. Respect is a willingness to meet another person where they're at. I know that when you're hurting its hard to see the hurt you're inflicting onto others. Please trust me when I say I've been there, too. I've hurt. I've hurt others because my pain said that it was justified. I'm healing from it, from the guilt and the shame. I'm finally stopping the cycle of pain and self-hatred within myself. I hope you can get here with me someday, too.

I meant it when I said you'll always be a friend to me. I hope you take my words to heart.

have a nice day, thanks for reading 💛

#transphobia #no editing or peer review we die like men

[animehideout]

heyyy so for whenever you open your requests again, could you do the green/red flag thing for Sugawara, Yamaguchi, Hinata and Tsukishima? I really liked it alot... but feel free to ignore this if you don't want to write it! Have a nice dayyy 🩵🩵🩵

Haikyuu Boys Green / Red Flags ( IMO) part 3

Characters: Sugawara/ Tsukki / Hinata / Yamaguchi.

A/N : @flowerjun 🩷 , thank you so much for requesting, and I'm glad you enjoyed the other parts, I hope you enjoy this part as well. Have a nice day / night 💝💝💝💝💝

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

Sugawara Koushi:

okay this man right here is a walking green flag 🥹, i luv him.

Green Flags 💚:

• Very mature, works hard for your future together.

• Very good at connecting with you and your energy.

• Responsible, takes a good care of you and everything concerning you.

• You have an exam? he'll help you study.

• You have an essay? he'll write it for you.

• Very considerate: you're his priority.

• Good at communicating, and solving conflicts.

• Healthy environment and healthy discussion whenever you argue.

• Very gentle and asks for consent.

• Stops whenever he feels that you're uncomfortable, even if sometimes you're not.

Red Flags ❤️:

• Most of the time he puts others before him 😭🥹.

• Not willing to take risks, no matter how hard you reassure him.

• Hesitant at first to try new things in your relationship ( you know what I'm talking abt).

• Very paranoid.

Tsukishima Kei:

Green Flags 💚:

• Very smart.

• Knows how to deal with situations concerning your relationship

• Attentive.

• He observes the progress of your relationship.

• Doesn't let anyone disrespect you or bully you.

Red Flags ❤️:

• Overly critical, ends up hurting your feelings.

• Emotionally distant most of the time.

• Expresses his love through passive acts of service.

• Not very intimate vocally or physically.

• Sarcastic and can take it too far.

Hinata Shoyo:

Green Flags 💚:

• Very supportive.

• Encourages you when it comes to your goals and dreams.

• Pushes you forward.

• Wouldn't let you give up.

• Cheerful.

• Brings positive energy and joy to your relationship.

• His laugh wipes your sadness/ stress away.

• Very loyal.

• Makes your relationship exciting.

• Very determined.

Red Flags ❤️:

• Impulsive.

• Takes quick decision without second thoughts.

• Brings unnecessary competition everytime (considers everything as competition)

• Doesn't know the term « personal space »

• Sometimes pushes you too hard to achieve something or get something done.

Yamaguchi Tadashi:

Green Flags 💚:

• Kind and sweet.

• Spoils you with gifts especially food.

• Expect cute nicknames.

• 100% loyal, has eyes only for you.

• Very understanding.

• Listens to you talk for hours without getting bored.

• Speaks softly to you even when arguing.

Red Flags ❤️:

• Overly sensitive, lets sadness/ anger take over him.

• Low self-esteem / lack of confidence when it comes to taking decision about your relationship.

• Simps for tsukki .. jk.

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

FREE PALESTINE 🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸

#haikyuu masterlist #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu #oikawa tooru imagines #kuroo tetsuro headcanons #karasuno #kita shinsuke #hinata shouyou #anime imagines

[triflesandparsnips]

(eta 10/10/23: Having just realized that this is now a very easy to google explainer, please also see the full end-of-game roundup here: "when something is definitely not a game, but most definitely a gift" or my related #definitely not a game tag. We now return you to your regularly scheduled nonsense, currently in progress.)

So... so.

So this just dropped.

And listen. LISTEN. For people who haven't been following this Our Flag Means Death-related alternate-reality-shenanigan fest, the following will make no sense to you-- or, wait, fuck it--

A Brief History of the Javid Denkins Alternate-Reality Game

(I didn't intend "overly long essays about in-depth fandom-related shenanigans" to be my brand, but by god I'm here now and I will make us all suffer through it.)

Reality (As We Know It)

Established and verified gay pirate showrunner David Jenkins is a regular shenanigineer on twitter: retweets fanart, retweets cosplays, calls fans sluts (endearment), has ongoing fight with medieval cats.

Back in 2022, David Jenkins implied heavily that he had joined tumblr, but did not cough up his account name.

This is the sum total of real and actual events and identities.

Through the Looking Glass

Fans started looking for David Jenkins's tumblr. What fans found is the tumblr of one Javid Denkins, who appeared to be new, had a variant of Jenkins's twitter icon, and seemed to be cheekily maintaining an incognito by steadfastly asserting that he is definitely not David Jenkins.

Fans got weird about it, because that is the nature of fandom. I said something about it here, because I have Feelings about the Rules of Incognito and also about Not Being Weird About People Who Make the Content We Like. I put it as a reblog to the post, as per regular tumblring, no response requested/required because babes, if I'm going to be perceived, I want it to be organic. (ahem... FOOTNOTE 1)

I kept a cursory eye on things, because it can be Really Lonely to be a famous person who just wants to have a regular online experience, and if that's what whoever was on the other end wanted, then that's what they should get to have imo. Unlike a regular tumblr that I might reply to directly or engage with on a same-level kinda way, I let them set the rules of engagement because unless/until they came clean, they would always be Schrodinger's Showrunner to me, and therefore subject to my internal Don't Be Creepy ruleset.

My second Javid reblog was pretty much what I would do to any other newbie tumblr person (as they professed to be): adding on to a gag by referencing the "color of the sky" meme and also a seagull, for OFMD-related reasons (which fit within the ruleset, because Javid was actively connecting himself with OFMD type things). And Javid reblogged it, so hey, I was winning at tumblr interactions, a thing that is normal to want and possible to achieve.

Time passed. Javid dropped (what will be revealed to be the first of many) photo manipulations. (FOOTNOTE 2)

On the same day, Javid posted what looked like an accidental smashkey. I reblogged with a seagull, because again, established rules of engagement and me winning at tumblr interactions. He reblogged himself, though, with what looked like another smashkey, but was actually a goddamn Caesar cipher-- and started using the tag #definitely not a game.

From there, Javid started up a stream of fairly fun puzzles. I didn't keep up with it fully, but since it looked like Javid wanted people to interact, I interacted (while trying to ensure that other people could keep having fun too). He also started subtly changing his icon, his tumblr header, etc., expanding the bounds of the puzzle space, as it were. (And if you want a complete rundown of the puzzle history and the associated answers, this twitter thread is enormous and thorough, thank you @eefaevie.)

The seagull made an appearance every once in a while; I threw together various season 2 bingo cards in response to these potential spoilers; I spent my time largely keeping back so I could eat popcorn and Not Be Creepy. But... but.

The thing was, Javid's method of posting (in a "heeeere fishy fishy fishy" manner) seemed, to me, to be the actions of someone trying to play with the audience and/or provide enrichment for the enclosure. So after some thought and, again, remembering the loneliness of being a Creative Person but trying to be mindful that this person was still incognito and could be the actual dude, I started using the seagull to reblog extra content, links, whathaveyou, with the tag #enrichment can go in BOTH enclosures-- with the idea that, if Javid wanted to look, he had the option to do so-- and if he did, he'd be rewarded with, again, no demands on him or his attention, but just: some content. Some enrichment. Some fun. A "picking up what you're putting down" kind of vibe from one person to another, both of whom are, at the very least, interested in communicating with an audience.

To be clear: For me, at the end of the day, it had to be a choice. I needed to provide room for Javid to choose to enter the magic circle of my additional game play-- but I also wasn't going to hold my breath about it. This was Javid's space, with intentions and purposes I had no way of knowing (nor should I)-- I was just, metaphorically, bringing another set of dice and maybe some graph paper with an extra room drawn on it that he could easily enter if he wanted, to play in a space intended to complement his. He was putting in a shitton of labor for what was essentially just a gift; I wanted to show appreciation for that labor, while putting in some of my own to gift back.

So when the first round of puzzles ended, and a new one began, I linked the answers to one of his anagram puzzles inside some seagull gifs-- but I figured, why not add something extra? I used his pigpen cipher to dare him to use a book code next. To even see the dare he'd have to want to decode the gifs-- and if he ultimately didn't want to engage, no skin off my nose. (That's why there's a border around the magic circle with clear entrances and exits.) Either way, I was having a nice time.

The next puzzle type was a stereogram. (Neat.) The puzzle after that, though? I get tagged and informed that Javid has, in fact, posted a motherfucking book code. (FOOTNOTE 3)

Enter the Thunder Parasocial Dome

This is the point where I first have to be pulled down from the curtains by rational people who have only my best interests at heart.

(Having a whole Thesis Statement about why I was engaging with Schrodinger's Showrunner is one thing. Having possible evidence that my engagement was, like, actually engaged with is quite another.)

By sweet and loving friends and family I was reminded that:

Other people are, in fact, allowed to be clever about things too.

That all sorts of pre-planning may have gone into all this, and that therefore the timing was a coincidence.

That there are a limited number of easily accessible ciphers out there, so the code type could also be a coincidence.

And that either way I still have my important Don't Be Creepy code of ethics.

So. I took a deep breath. Cool. I was totally and absolutely cool about this.

...And in a totally normal manner I proceeded to lay an elaborate trap.

AHAHAHA JUST JOKING what I mean is: I replied to the tagged post, acknowledging that the sphere of potential puzzling had now expanded beyond tumblr. I used Javid's own fake-link trick to link to a seagull laugh. And in the tags I threw in a lot of potential internet-related alternate reality stuff.

But also, crucially... some more ideas for Javid to use. (FOOTNOTE 4) If he wanted them. If he was actually looking.

Since I was now playing In Earnest, I spent some time putting together a youtube channel, an alternate tumblr, a neocities account -- a whole new field of play, if Javid wanted to engage there. I pulled out the dusty memories of a Yuletide fic I wrote several years ago that used similar shenanigans to tell an interactive fiction story about Monty Python. (Hilariously enough, my first RPF.) I continued to play with all these new and fascinating toys.

A Strange Ship on the Horizon

What with one thing and another three years pass, a Javid puzzle eventually lead to an AO3 account-- which to me definitively opened Schrodinger's box: maybe this was a member of the production playing with fire, more likely it was a clever fan whose brain is fucking fascinating, but it most definitely was not David Jenkins.

But. Javid was still in incognito. And I still don't know if I had been perceived.

I read the fic the Javid account is writing (which is still a work in progress and pretty great ngl)-- it's a fandom AU, where Ed and Stede are fans of a gay pirate romcom called Blow the Man Down, featuring Sam Bellamy and Olivier Levasseur. The showrunner is named Javid, who doesn't have social media but gets cornered into agreeing to join twitter (rather than our universe's tumblr). And Ed decides, on a lark, to start a fake twitter account, tag it #definitelynotjaviddenkins... and then freak out because a large contingent of fandom shows up on his metaphorical doorstep saying HELLO, JAVID.

As if this weren't enough: beyond the fic itself, suddenly a whole multimedia alternate universe suddenly appeared, with multiple twitter and AO3 accounts beyond just Stede and Ed, forming an entire fucking fandom, Goncharov-style, around Blow the Man Down. It was and continues to be fucking wild. It's also amazing. And the porn is surprisingly approachable. (BUT SEE AGAIN FOOTNOTE 1)

Grappling Hooks Breaching the Parasocial Divide

The thing is, though. The thing. That is.

I have officially reached Level 2 Curtain Clawing.

As I read the fic and the accompanying universe, I started to. Notice things.

References to soap (but... but surely that's normal. Many people talk about soap, not just amateur history enthusiasts like myself).

References to obscure scents (LABDANUM. Someone referenced labda-motherfucking-num. But surely. Surely it is not an entirely unheard of thing; I am not the first person to discover it or the fact that it gets combed from goats jesus christ the goat thing I forgot about that--)

References to the drilled coin from the wreck of Sam Bellamy's ship, which appeared as a random bit of possible future lore for Javid in this bit of enrichment (but I put in lots of possible lore! I had a whole thing going about figureheads! Bad luck to kill a seabird! I had a whole thing for a while where I thought maybe the digraph code Javid was hinting at was actually a Playfair cipher! I have been wrong many times before and added lots of random possible narratives. SO SURELY THE COIN IS A COINCIDENCE).

References to... okay not really references, and I've never articulated it quite like this (though this is definitely my vibe), but references to the idea of these puzzles and enrichment being a conversation in and of themselves, held at a remove and existing entirely in call (Javid) and response (the audience).

Finally... I started to notice that Stede decodes/interprets Ed-as-Javid's puzzles in a long twitter thread (like... like the one linked above) but also... sends back puzzles. Like, well, me.

"But STILL," I screech from the top of the curtain rail. "This could ALL BE COINCIDENCE," I yowl as friends and family try to bat me down with a broom. Even, by god, today's drop... which uses a password-protected url shortener. The exact same one I used in an earlier enrichment. But! It's not like there are a lot of those! Maybe this was just the first one that cropped up for Javid, just as it was the first that cropped up for me! (BUT THEN AGAIN, MAY I REFER YOU BACK TO FOOTNOTE 4)

The fic is at chapter 14. There are, if AO3 is to be believed, 7 more chapters to go, plus who knows how much additional extra-universe material. There is so. much. here.

...And so many more opportunities to climb all the curtains.

“It's a great huge game of chess that's being played—all over the world—if this is the world at all, you know.”

So at this point... what, in fact, is happening?

I'm inside a Schrodinger's box whose sides are entirely composed of parasocial uncertainty.

Maybe Javid is here. (HELLO, JAVID.)

Maybe he isn't! (HELLO, THE MIRROR IN MY ENCLOSURE.)

Maybe I'm not actually being referenced at all, but the writer of that twitter thead, @eefaevie, is (HI EEFAEVIE WHAT'S UP HOW'S THE PARASOCIAL AIR IN YOUR ENCLOSURE DOIN')

I don't know. I can't know. Unless someone opens the box.

and my god, what if they never do?

tl;dr. This is the most enriching fun I've had in months, and if the magic circle is going to widen to include me, then friend, I intend to BRING MY A-GAME.

---

FOOTNOTES

1. During the course of that mini-essay, I say the following:

"If it's someone who is not the dude but just a tumblrite who managed to catch on really quick? Well goddamn, good for them, and also A+ Wink-Nudge acrobatics. Real dude can have a peaceful time reading critical analyses of Goncharov, Javid here can quietly start introducing strange lore and running gags and other fun-with-plausible-deniability shenanigans".

One day later Javid starts answering questions about characters with enigmatic season 2 spoilery things; a little less than ten days later, we get the first fake link (which, imo, is the real start of the game).

2. This is now only 24 days after my "strange lore and fun with plausible deniability" post.

3. My dare: January 26. Javid's book code: February 4.

4. My tags on the post wherein I acknowledge that the dare has, possibly, been taken up, read: #you know what's cool? besides how #enrichment can go in BOTH enclosures #is how much you can do with html #like sure sure we've all seen the embedded links #but I remember the days of hidden source code messages #websites with delayed redirects #passwords hidden on one site to open the locked contents of another #you know #~normal things~ #I'm certain none of this will become relevant #because this is #definitely not a game

#OH HEY also eta 10/10/23: changed 'augmented' to 'alternate' because that's a more accurate description #definitely not a game #our flag means death #enrichment can go in BOTH enclosures #the absolute wildness of narrative and alternate reality games #a brief history of #javid denkins #and probably someone needs to start spritzing me with a spray bottle or something because this is #this is a lot

[phoenixtakaramono]

hi! any spoilers or sneaky peaks on the untold tale? i've been anxiously waiting for the new chapter 😫 your writing is on another level, i swear. i reread the first five chapters like more than 4 times each. i'm also loving your characterization of binghe!

Hullo, hullo, anon! 💞 It makes me heartened to hear that you like The Untold Tale! And I’m glad you’re liking my characterization of Bingge! I personally like my yanderes in fiction, and it’s always somewhat hilarious how wild and simp-y Luo Binghe’s POV and dialogue/ thoughts can be compared to Shen Yuan who’s just doing his best, haha.

We haven’t reached TUT’s position yet on my WIPs to Update list, so I haven’t been posting much sneak peeks of the upcoming ch6 yet since the majority of it is still in my rough note form (reminders of what I want to happen, dialogue that needs to happen, specific foreshadowing or worldbuilding, etc) and not the pretty final draft form y’all see on AO3. But I am very frank in my replies about what’ll happen in the AO3 Comments section so spoilers are abound there, haha. If y’all want a Spoiler Free experience, do not check out the Comments section. I answer questions and even gift spoilers (even copy and paste certain scenes that haven’t been published yet) to certain readers as thanks for leaving me long essay-long comments or just plain any comments that’ve made me happy.

There’s also a jokey April Fools version of what’ll be in ch6 that I’d tweeted out: TUT ch6 threadfic (April Fools edition). You can read it there if you have a Twitter account but essentially it’s scenes to expect—but butchered with American and British colloquialisms I have a certain writing process where I go all in on the fandom belonging to whichever WIP I’m working on updating, and at that time I wanted to show why it’d be a bad idea if I jumped back into writing TUT under this mindset and how it’d be jarring, haha. TUT has a certain writing style unique to C-novels and light novels in general, so I didn’t want to detract from that experience!

If you want a direct spoiler, this is what to expect from TUT ch6:

Shen Yuan’s shark tank meeting with the Jade Emperor’s Court (and SY finding out who is his celestial family in PIDW)

+

Luo Binghe’s POV, after his meeting with the celestial fortuneteller Shen Yuan (featuring a short cameo from Ning Yingying)

I do, admittedly, miss the SVSSS fandom a lot and really can’t want to return, my lovely dear readers, but I have to be a responsible multi-fandom writer rotating through my list of WIPs in an orderly fashion so it’s fair for everyone and wait for their turn and can only promise the patience will be worth it (to preserve the magic of it all)!! Thank you for your patience! I am heartened to hear there are people still reading and waiting for my return! I’ll share new sneak peeks as I’m live-writing it, once I’m ready to pivot back to TUT. ✌️ There also exist some other spoilery kernels but I’ll leave one more hint:

And after ch6, will be the Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky chapter where y’all will find out whose new poor cannon fodder’s identity he’s transmigrated into almost as a direct consequence of Shen Yuan’s transmigration as a celestial sharing the Protagonist’s Halo with Bingge in this new danmei genre he’s created (laughs). I’m excited because I get to finish up and debut the prettier illustration of ASTtS that’s been gathering dust in my computer files. If you’ve seen the WIP, yes, it’ll be the final version of this concept art I posted before as a sneak peek.

#bingyuan #svsss #scum villian self saving system #shen yuan #luo binghe #the untold tale #ask #anon #phoenix talks

[garadinervi]

The Journey That Matters: What It Was Like, Directed and Produced by Arwen Curry, Featuring Ursula K. Le Guin [reading her essay 'What is Was Like' (2004), in Words Are My Matter. Writings About Life and Books, 2000-2016, Small Beer Press, 2016], 2023 [Literary Hub]

Cinematographer: Jeff Streich Editors: Maya Curry, Sarah Cannon Composer: Will Fritch Location Sound: Anna Rieke Motion Graphics: Alexandra Petrus, Kia Simon

Archival footage and stills: The Ursula K. Le Guin Foundation; Schlesinger Library, Harvard Radcliffe Institute

What It Was Like A talk given at a meeting of Oregon NARAL in January 2004 «My friends at NARAL asked me to tell you what it was like before Roe vs. Wade. They asked me to tell you what it was like to be twenty and pregnant in 1950 and when you tell your boyfriend you're pregnant, he tells you about a friend of his in the army whose girl told him she was pregnant, so he got all his buddies to come and say, "We all fucked her, so who knows who the father is?" And he laughs at the good joke. They asked me to tell you what it was like to be a pregnant girl—we weren't "women" then—a pregnant college girl who, if her college found out she was pregnant, would expel her, there and then, without plea or recourse. What it was like, if you were planning to go to graduate school and get a degree and earn a living so you could support yourself and do the work you loved—what it was like to be a senior at Radcliffe and pregnant and if you bore this child, this child which the law demanded you bear and would then call "unlawful," "illegitimate," this child whose father denied it, this child which would take from you your capacity to support yourself and do the work you knew it was your gift and your responsibility to do: What was it like? I can hardly imagine what it's like to live as a woman under Fundamentalist Islamic law. I can hardly remember now, fifty-four years later, what it was like to live under Fundamentalist Christian law. Thanks to Roe vs. Wade, none of us in America has lived in that place for half a lifetime. But I can tell you what it is like, for me, right now. It's like this: If I had dropped out of college, thrown away my education, depended on my parents through the pregnancy, birth, and infancy, till I could get some kind of work and gain some kind of independence for myself and the child, if I had done all that, which is what the anti-abortion people want me to have done, I would have borne a child for them, for the anti-abortion people, the authorities, the theorists, the fundamentalists; I would have borne a child for them, their child. But I would not have borne my own first child, or second child, or third child. My children. The life of that fetus would have prevented, would have aborted, three other fetuses, or children, or lives, or whatever you choose to call them: my children, the three I bore, the three wanted children, the three I had with my husband—whom, if I had not aborted the unwanted one, I would never have met and married, because he would have been a Fulbright student going to France on the Queen Mary in 1953 but I would not have been a Fulbright student going to France on the Queen Mary in 1953. I would have been an "unwed mother" of a three-year-old in California, without work, with half an education, living off her parents, not marriageable, contributing nothing to her community but another mouth to feed, another useless woman. But it is the children I have to come back to, my children Elisabeth, Caroline, Theodore, my joy, my pride, my loves. If I had not broken the law and aborted that life nobody wanted, they would have been aborted by a cruel, bigoted, and senseless law. They would never have been born. This thought I cannot bear. I beg you to see what it is that we must save, and not to let the bigots and misogynists take it away from us again. Save what we won: our children. You who are young, before it's too late, save your children.» – Ursula K. Le Guin, Words Are My Matter. Writings About Life and Books, 2000-2016, Small Beer Press, Easthampton, MA, 2016

#art #documentary #video #book #ursula k. le guin #arwen curry #jeff streich #maya curry #sarah cannon #will fritch #anna rieje #alexandra petrus #kia simon #naral #the ursula k. le guin foundation #schlesinger library #radcliffe institute #literary hub #2000s #2010s #2020s

[fondcrimes]

hii u posted about poetry recently and mentioned the difficulty in finding a good poem, and specifically that you think the issue is pedagogical—i’d be so curious to hear more of your thoughts about where current(?) pedagogy might be insufficient and/or just your thoughts about contemporary poetry more broadly! no worries if you’d prefer not to though! 🫶

helloooo I would love to elaborate abt my post! thanks for asking (apologies if it gets super long though) I'm gonna break my response down into separate parts so I can better explain my perspective

I will preface this by saying I know I'm usually being haterish when I criticize the writing world in general. I understand I won't like everyone's writing and that doesn't take away from the value of a piece, but my somewhat uncharitable POV stems from my ongoing observation of writing trends and marketability (which is why we have colloquialisms like ig poetry, tumblr poetry, booktok etc). writing trends are not inherently shallow or reductive, however, we as both creators and consumers can observe how trying to sell writing produces specific "brands" of writers. the categorization of contemporary writing, to some extent, will always about marketability and branding, and then we know that digestible and palatable writing sells. it sells a whole lot! and that's not inherently bad either because that's entertainment, sometimes you just wanna read some bullshit. additionally, I don't see the value of discouraging people from reading when it's something I'm very passionate about and more people need to be reading anyway. I could talk about this in great length too but my main beef is with the over-saturation of "palatable" writing, writing that is marketed in a specific way that caters to the consumer rather than engaging an audience and provoking our curiosity and wonder. my main beef is that it creates a type of reader/consumer who is stagnant and not intellectually engaged. I think we're all too familiar with the sort of people who are more concerned with the marketable aesthetics of reading/intellectualism rather than actually using their brain *cough* booktok *cough* but the scope is much wider. I would say that neoliberal politics necessitate this mindset/level of literacy in order to function but that's such a loaded statement kgfkgjf anyway moving on~

in order to understand why people like shitty poetry, I have to understand why people like shitty writing and also why shitty writing exists in such great amounts. I kept going back to elementary school, where we made first contact with writing and reading interpretatively. underpaid overworked teachers already have it hard enough, I don't blame them for not being able to spark the joy of reading in every child they encounter. literacy is unbelievably complex and capitalism is like blood in the water. it’s also bad enough that kids are actively learning how to put themselves into like social boxes while their developing skills are placed into boxes of their own like gifted, advanced, remedial, etc. all that shit gets internalized too. when I refer to the "intellectual", I am speaking from the belief that each person has the potential to embody intellect, rather than adhere to a deluded elitist view of gatekeeping intelligence. I want readers to engage their intellectual selves because we're living in a cultural moment where it seems like nobody is using their brains anymore, nobody is thinking critically, and that's bc it's easy to shut your brain off. it dawned on me that if a child could be dissuaded from reading entirely due to bad experiences/treatment, a child could also be dissuaded from building analytical or evaluative skills of what they're reading. there are so many college students who can read but want to use chatgpt to write their essays... so many (voting-aged) adults who can read but consistently make bad-faith interpretations of tweets, articles, books, etc. I won't get into the marxism of it all but it goes back to the capitalist state, we need to be literate enough to work and participate in bureaucracy and get married and raise more workers but that's it, it's okay if our literacy stops there and I would argue politicians actually prefer that. but I'm not saying the alternative isn't difficult though... because it's meant to be!

ok so the pedagogy of it all. poetry is notorious for being kind of inaccessible to the common person for a variety of reasons but I'll focus on the fact that we're conditioned to prioritize convenience or become "lazy" readers. I didn't really know how pervasive this notion was until I was listening to ada limón talk about how people will straight up say they don't like poetry. she was talking about how really has more to do with how it's taught rather than what it is. I also reconsidered my own relationship with poetry as a form. I have the typical writer predisposition: my favorite book growing up was the giving tree, I wrote sad gay poems in high school and obviously I was a teenaged fangirl during the peak tumblr web weaving era. but I didn't think about poetry too deeply until a few years ago (during quarantine-ish) I decided I wanted to start writing seriously again after a series of depressive episodes and found my way back to contemporary poetry. I should say I'm veryyy biased and prefer studying modern poetry but I know a few things about that old greek shit too lol. I read poems I instantly really loved, but some poems even by the same poets fell flat or I straight up disliked, but I didn't know why I had those opinions. so I kind of became really obsessed with studying my favorite poems on my own, going line by line and figuring out the writing techniques and measuring their effectiveness. (I read a lotttt of writing criticism too)

now that I'm thinking about it, it was very adhd of me to obsessively read and reread short-form writing bc sometimes I simply don't have the attention span for a 20k-word creative nonfiction piece unfortunately lolll.... this was noticeably much more fun, esp compared to reading poetry in school elementary/middle/high school (even though I had enjoyed those classes too). as a teenager of the subversive aesthetic age, I still carried the notion that most poetry was about obfuscating meaning, or like purposefully being vague out of pretentiousness and exclusion. like I get why somebody would find poetry annoying, there's plenty of annoying poetry out there even in the literary world. all of this is to say that reciting poems in school or trying to teach poetry to students in absolutes (like this poem means this, this poem means that) is not conducive to comprehending the form/genre. you can’t achieve poetic understanding or connection to a poem through objectivity or removing yourself and your emotions. a poem is not just static, it’s meant to interact quite intimately with a reader. ada limón describes how transformative it can be leave a poem and come back to it. sometimes, the intimacy has more to do with the state of receptiveness than the text itself. poems are constantly concerned with emotional/somatic information whether you’re reading or writing them. I always explain it to myself in relationship terms, which is why it might feel impossible to build that relationship with something that seems doubly foreign

this doesn’t really stop at elementary school students. as you get older and read more poetry, you start to catch on and see that poets within a movement are effectively doing similar things, and I fear a good amount of poets are doing the same BORING or PREDICTABLE thing. (I will be nice and not name names)

it wasn't until I read a lot of poems that I noticed my favorite poems did the exact opposite.

this is one of my favorite poems everrrrr it made me write poetry bc I just wanted to do everything he did. it has also drastically shaped and informed my taste. so I will try to briefly explain how it has influenced my writing:

Let me begin this time knowing the drumming in my dreams is me inheriting the earth, is morning lighting up the rivers.

there have been weeks in my life where this line "inheriting the earth" played in my head over and over again like a mantra. "inherit" is such a loaded word, culturally and politically. I think I had been enamored by the sheer power of it, esp as a black person who has spent the majority of my life feeling unworthy of existing:

a brown child on a beach at dawn straining to see their future.

I had to sit with that feeling and characterize its meaning. for me, "inheriting the earth" immediately looked like a stampede of horses fearlessly galloping across the plains:

Let me run at break-neck speeds toward sceneries of doubt.

I could say a lot more about this poem, but moving on~

some valuable lessons I learned from being inspired by poetry: kill my pride and obliterate my quest for originality. at this point, I've embraced being a copycat:

because in my noble solitude, I have inherited nothing.

Our heads turned alongside the window, chasing a breakneck road.

I read jackson's poem up and down, left to right, tried to solve it like a rubik's cube. I wanted to turn my love for this poem into data points I could use in my own writing, but I kept hitting a wall. I couldn't shake the feeling I was stalling something inevitable, circling the truth embedded in my writing like an eagle stalking its prey. I considered the strain of the futureless brown child:

objects of my brutal childhood fascination

an instinctive deserter at the finale of my girlhood

one day I stumbled upon this article, the pieces suddenly started to come together:

as a society, we do entirely too much about youth and maintaining youth, so much to the point where the cultural obsession is perverse and the child is neglected. I only say this to offer an alternative, wherein we consider the childhood self not as a means to regain lost "purity" and powerlessness, but to take our power back. I love this article so much; I think it perfectly captures why writers are constantly fighting themselves and their words. it's evident one's learned self-consciousness and uncertainty cause someone to over-explain and impede on the poem. this makes it a matter of emotional fidelity and trust, rather than technical skill or knowledge. if poetry is inaccessible, I think it's only because we have become inaccessible to ourselves. this is what I mean when I say a good poem is "distilled", it has more to do with the clarity of the feeling you're trying to evoke or convey. it requires self-knowledge and making space for yourself to maintain emotional fidelity if that's what you want (ofc you can also evoke vagueness or uncertainty through the clarity of the form). I wondered, how can a creative know what they're doing if they don't know themselves? soon I realized at its core, the writer struggling with words was an issue of trust, on some mary oliver wild geese shit. there is a great deal of trust involved when you let yourself wonder. and sorry it's hard for me not to get all writer-brained and idealistic about this subject so please bear with me when I say I have good news, we can always find the way back to ourselves.

I think poetry should be about trusting the self and others, trust that they won't shatter the fragility of you in their closed hand. good poetry is deep intimacy and touchy-feely shit. learning how to write hurts because you’re also learning how to unlearn. it's extremely hard to teach that in a society that is more concerned with making sure you learn how to become wholly alienated from yourself (I've written extensively about how this damages the creative spirit, I'll save you the rant). in the midst of my poetry renaissance, I developed a schema around poetry in my attempts to write poems that were intimate and personal and powerful. I wanted to read stunning poetry, so I approached every poem like its intent was to pierce my heart. ofc that doesn't have to be your approach, but as someone who somewhat struggled with subtext and implicit messaging as a child, I am super into patterns that help me reach meaning. but I could only develop taste or preference through knowing myself and listening to my creative impulses, letting art and words alter my heart and my mind. it's about all that mushy gushy woo woo therapy shit. it had to be about me regifting myself a sort of agency. the resting state of a poet is precarious and sometimes contradictory. I believe in trust but I still feel the urge to over-explain myself or my thoughts for manyyy reasons. sometimes I don't even fight that urge, but the point remains. in order to teach and understand poetry, you have to know yourself (your intentions, your haunts, your beliefs, etc). in order to trust the reader, we have to trust they know themselves, or at least are willing to learn how to do it.

Reader, I should have married you sooner.

#asks #long post #SORRYYY this is literally an essay #<- guy who is procrastinating on a real essay thats due in 7 hrs #I should actually read up on writing pedagogy lolz

[jomiddlemarch]

Thank you, @tortoisesshells for the kind tag! Sorry for the delay in responding-- work conference, Covid recovery, band geek mom triple threat.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

845. You read that correctly. Several proper drabbles and at least two co-authored fics, including the Mansion House Murder Hotel round robin.

2. What's your total A03 words count?

1,453,769. Again, that includes some co-written fic I am not inclined to parse for my exact count.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mercy Street, Foyle's War, Shadow and Bone, Poldark, A Discovery of Witches, Anne of Green Gables, Little Women, The Last of Us, GLOW, Downton Abbey, Frozen, James Bond, Star Wars, The Hour, Ted Lasso, Sanditon, Dune, Leap/Ballerina, Brooklyn 99, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, Gilmore Girls, Far From The Madding Crowd, Emma, Betsy-Tacy, and a few others.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

"what it is to be a thin crescent moon" (SAB), "A Wife--at daybreak I shall be" (AOGG), "Point and Click" (SAB, modern AU), "Bear with the truths I would tell you now," (Emma), "The subtlest fold of the heart" (AOGG)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do. At a bare minimum, I try to thank the commenter for taking the time to read. In the halcyon days of Mercy Street, I wrote long, discursive essay-comments because that was our vibe. I am not always prompt, but I do try to get back to people, though sometimes if the comment is very thoughtful, it takes me a while because I want to give an equivalent response.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably "Because I could not stop for Death," a Mercy Street fic where I wrote vignettes where I killed someone in each of the 18 installments, though I did end the whole thing killing the agreed-upon most loathsome character. I don't tend to write fics with angsty endings, though I don't mind writing it midway.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

This is tough, because I mostly write HEA. I'm going to pick a relatively deep cut and say "Always a Bridesmaid," the Mercy Street modern au rom-com, since the whole thing is a fairly giddy romp.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

A little. I've received 1-2 negative comments on AO3 and once wrote a gift-fic for someone in the Reylo fandom and got attacked on what was then Twitter and Tumblr by fans of the writer I was gifting, even though I had offered to the writer to take the story down. I now only write gift-fic for people I have some relationship with.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yes. It's full of consent, sometimes awkward (who else has written crappy postpartum sex on Tumblr? I may be the cheese standing alone on that one) and almost never results in an unplanned pregnancy as a plot device. I most write cis-het and strenuously avoid using any term for a penis that isn't dick or cock. No straining members (sounds like a bunch of constipated middle management.)

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

OMG, yes! I love crossovers, so this is tough to answer. I'll go with a more recent one, "the better part of valor," Mercy Street/The Last of Us, though I have also used Sesame Street as an AU frame for Mercy Street characters.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of! (Ditto to @tortoisesshells)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Maybe 1? I don't get a lot of offers and feel a bit proprietary, since I can't read it to see how well it's translated.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

You betcha! Shout-out to the Mansion House Murder Party and "We run a very tight ship" the Cruise Ship crack-fest that @fericita-s and @sagiow and I boarded during a phase of the lockdown.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

I guess I'd have to say Mary Phinney/Jed Foster based on the number of fanfics I've written for them, but I don't really play favorites. I have a real fondness for every pairing I write, including the ones with the OC characters I write for @tessa-quayle.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Maybe this will change the course of history, but "what it means to be a thin crescent moon" is sort of hanging out there. I have some ideas for how to wrap it up but need the time and the mojo, which is harder to come by. I'd also like to get back to my zombie road-trip GLOW AU "Music shall untune the sky" but it's tough because that would be purely for me at this point.

16. What are your writing strengths?

(I hope) Witty banter. Strong female characters who have flaws. Description with plenty of sensory details. Use of quotations, math, and chess gambits :) A pithy drabble.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I find plot the least interesting component of writing fanfic and I think it shows. I love to read long-fic, but I struggle to sustain it. The words "so" and "just."

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I mostly stick to endearments or short phrases. I'm not fluent in any other language and no one needs to discover the various ways Google Translate has let me down.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Mercy Street. I started writing late at night after a work conference, literally drifting in and out of consciousness to lower my inhibitions enough to get started. It was a fic related to a WIP I loved and had written to the author about, so it was very relational.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

What is this, Sophie's Choice? I can't pick a favorite. I'll say I look back with great fondness on my Little Women/Mercy Street crossover "What thou and I did, till we loved," which features Marmee and the Star Trek Kobiyashi Maru Mercy Street crossover "It had the virtue of never having been tried," because like I said, I do love a crossover! Honestly, when there are over 800 fic, I'll admit to have forgotten I'd written some of these :)

Tagging: @asteraceae-blue @orlissa @vesperass-anuna @oldshrewsburyian, @ladamedusoif @trulybettyand anyone else who wants to take this out for a spin!

#my fic #I should also point out #in the world of crack-fic crossover AU #I have crossed over Shadow and Bone #with the Great British Bake-Off #Noel Fielding and Aleksander Morozova have a chat

[chahnniesroom]

Even if the Hanahaki fic won't follow the usual guideline most fics in with AU do, I'll still enjoy it. I literally enjoy all your works, or at least the ones you have posted here. For example, in 'From this day forward' I adored the fun dynamic you've set up between the pair, a certain playfulness never leaving it, no matter how sweet things became. Or in 'For better, for worse', how both the Reader and Minho were held responsible for their poor relationship, and how despite everything, Minho realised that he still cared for his wife. Don't let me mention 'For richer, for poorer', because that one just left me with glistening eyes. I felt for the Reader, as someone who most of the time makes things for others as gifts. It was all just thought out well and portrayed even better on your part, I loved it. And 'In sickness and in health'? It was just the fluff I needed after all that angst, Seungmin's soft side shining brightly that he likes to hide most of the time. (I won't even mention 'Tenderness' here, as I already rambled about it on my blog enough, haha.)

What I'm trying to say is that you portray emotions very well in your stories, captivating your audience. I'm sorry for this impromptu essay, I hope it won't intimidate or overwhelm you. I just want you to see the beauty that you create and that there are people who absolutely adore them, no matter how active or inactive you are here :)

-that one anon (who could be called 🦦 anon, if that is alright with you)

🦦 anonnnnn 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

i'm sorry for the late reply but you literally left me speechless. like no words could express how much this means to me, i am so so thankful 🥹🥹 i like most my work too, enough that i am willing to post it, but have found myself being really insecure about my posts, especially since i took such a long break and tend to get caught up comparing myself with others. i discourage myself easily, which is something i know i need to work on. i know i've said it before but messages like me are really what motivate me to keep writing, otherwise it would be so easy to just let my drafts collect dust or never even make it to the point of becoming a draft. writing is an extremely long process for me and it is an honour and still unbelievable to me that my works have been able to reach other people and affect them in this way.

thank you so so much for leaving such a lovely and wonderful message.

#ask #🦦 anon #from this day forward #for better for worse #for richer for poorer #in sickness and in health

[sol-consort]

Greetings commander Shepard, how goes your assistance in the aid of Super Earth?

How are you doing? Has the month been pleasant?

I wasn't expecting the response about being called Commander Shepard, but I'm glad you enjoyed it.

How is your little pill friend doing? Have you crafted a little home for them on your desk?

Regarding your mother's birthday, I'm sorry the gift didn't have the desired effect. I hope the celebration was good and you all had a nice time.

I'm glad you are enjoying your time with your games and carving your own path into them. The image of a small figure entering a large terrain on a map and marking their own spot comes to mind.

Also congratulations on becoming more comfortable with refunding games on steam. One step at a time.

I wasn't exactly sure how to put this one together after the last one. Sorry for dropping these near or at the end of the month. Not really sure how frequently I should ask these without being a nuisance.

Your blogs have been fun to dive into. I may not know how much work goes into your blogs, but I do appreciate the effort. A lot of things you and your community were things I never really gave much thought about, but reading through them has made me think about what I missed through my playthroughs. So, Thank you very much for making fun stories and post.

Anyways, I should let you get back to work. Have a good day, afternoon or night, whenever this finds you. Stretch, hydrate, rest your eyes. Do what you can and hopefully things are going well.

I love you

Mass effect story was written by a lot of people as a cooperation effort and it wouldn't be complete if any of those writers were missing, so it makes sense that no one person alone can truly appreciate or notice everything in the game. That's why getting a new perspective from someone else and hearing their own side of the story is so refreshing! You get to see something you love through different eyes and notice all the things you might have glossed over.

Like Garrus, for example. I never paid him much attention to his dialogue or knew that we affected his paragon/renegade in ME1. He could've been replaced with a cardboard cutout, and I wouldn't have noticed. He completely flew under my radar because I was too busy picking up every microdetail I could on Ashley and Javik.

But when I finished all three games and dived into the fandom through fanart and video essays. I got slapped in the face by how interesting of a character Garrus is and the great storytelling he has. How he feels as much his own person as the main protagonist of the game does. You could make a spin off that's just telling Garrus's side of the story and it would sell like crazy. I'd be first one in line for the chance to play as the archangel sniper.

I still can't get over the line Liara made about him in the shadowbroker notes. How he has leader potential but will never truly shine while under Shepard's command.

OW MY HEART

It's like two gaint stars battling in a gravitational pull without realising, and everytime without fail Garrus will be the one crumbling to Shepard's mass. The longer he stays by our side no matter how well we treat him, he will always be reduced to a cluster of freshly broken rocks orbiting our sun. Rather than having his own planets to lead and protect through the galaxy if we just weren't in the picture.

We harm him by existing, by stealing his potential and making him feel so safe around us that he never grows or get stronger. He trust us so much he is willing to forgo what he could amount to if given the chance.

It's like a curse of love. A friendship can be a burden as much as it is a haven. He truly shines and finds himself when Shepard was dead, yet is eager to throw it away and join our ranks again, only asking for the chance to say goodbye through revenge.

-

On another note, my pill pet "disappeared under mysterious circumstances" :/

My niece newest patch notes fixed legs movement and added extra logic, so now it's a hazard to leave exposed, bare, and possibly expired medical pills laying around. Who's idea was it to make candy pill shaped?

So pilly had to be...taken care of. Rip big guy, you would've loved to slightly lower my pain levels in a mystery way that scientists still aren't aware of but was theorised to activate descending serotonergic inhibitory in nociceptive pathways.

-

I haven't been feeling like writing. A big flaw in my design is that 90% of my actions are steered by raw passion so the second writing loses its spark for me I threw in the towel and go indulge in another shiny hobby unit the cycle repeats.

It's funny how I worked so hard when the blog was a barren desert just to reach anyone at all and now that I have that audience who's willing to listen and read, my inspiration runs out and I don't wanna do it anymore.

I think it shows that at the end of the day, supportive comments and interactions can only go so far when you have lost interest. It merely delayed the inevitable out of guilt but that too is spares.

What I'm saying is, if you wanna do something, then do it even if it's bad or no one is reading it. I used to misspell Shepard's name as shepherd.

And if you don't wanna do something, then don't do it, even if you invested so much in it and are good at it.

-

I've been moding stardew valley and it's so much easier than modding mass effect. I still plan on a full moded ME1 playthrough but a single mod there is like 1GB and there are so many stepsss also that rule about mesh mods having to go last. If you add any other mod after them then it breaks and they don't work well.

I discovered that the hard way when during Kaidan's last romance scene, his face was 10 shades lighter than his body, and it looked like he was wearing a plastic cut-out mask of his own face. Apparently, one of my mesh mods for him was malfunctioning because I added a tiny small mod after it. Had to nuke the whole folder and redownload every mod, then re-add them.

The gay romance mods aren't compatible with a lot of mods, so I might do a maleshep run then. Gonna make the twinkest twink to ever twink, a boyfailure to match my girlboss shep.

All of that for his straight ass to date Ashley because I need that woman like air.

This whole plan is on the backburner, when I eventually do it I'll revisit this blog again. I still read the comments and check the notifications every other day.

There are also two whole fully written fics rotting in my drafts. I haven't finished Andromeda yet either, but god, it's sooooo boring. So much endless missions and pointless stuff, while the mass effect trilogy felt compact and put together. It's like mass effect is this delicious chocolate milkshake with layers, while Andromeda is a barrel filled with water and some apple. If you're lucky, a slice will sneak through the endless tastless water and choke you without warning.

I tried listening to music, video essays and even audiobooks while playing it and it's still boring. It gives me so many headaches even with the motion blurr disabled while with mass effect I couldn't bare leaving the game to go to sleep from how interesting it was.

I will finish it, begrudgingly.

Mods made it more fun at least.

Oh, and I did a smart thing! There was an outdated mod that wasn't compatible anymore, and the dev abandoned it. But I really really wanted it, so I went into the mod files, converted the png files to xnb, and replaced the og game files with them after making a backup. Changed their names to match, and IT WORKED.

Sure, it's obvious in hindsight, but I feel proud that I figured it out by myself immediately without looking online for a solution or anything. It felt clever. Especially when I haven't used replacer mods in 5 years. I did it fully not expecting it to work since I know Jack shit about coding. But when I was messing around and opening random xnb files I noticed the pictures inside them look like the png file mod ones and it hit me.

-

I realised I haven't answered the questions at the top of your ask.

I'm not doing well. I'm rarely doing well mentally, and that's just a part of life. Mental illness doesn't go away. You just learn to live with it, tone it out sometimes, and embrace it other times like an annoying roommate.

I don't want to be a downer. The nightmares have been getting worse and I will power through them.

I appreciate you even asking. When the answer is always "I'm not doing well," people think I'm purposely being an asshole instead of truthful, so they stop asking. And yeah, of course I know how to lie and say "I'm good" when it's just a person asking out of politeness.

But you're not asking out of politeness, are you? You're genuinely asking me despite being a stranger. That warms my heart, I wish nothing but happiness and the best for you.

This is like a lovely letter exchange now that I think about it. It is different than texting yet intimate in its own way too.

I liked your description of the small figure entering a large terrain on a map. Imagining it paints a beautiful picture, a campfire embers amidst a thick dark forest, the soft glow of the first city on the surface of a new planet, a flickering LED flashlight of a rover attempting to navigate the rocky terrians of the moon.

They discovered a new super volcano on mars btw!! Unrelated but related. There might be glacier ice hidden underneath it! Nasa wants to investigate for traces of life because that's how all life began on earth.

I love space a lot. We sent songs of whale sounds to space alongside the disk of humanity. We thought whales were this lovely. And they are! They live insanely complex lives, their deaths are the sole food source of an entire ocean floor ecosystem!

Oh, and you're not a nuisance. There isn't even a room for doubt, I love your asks, and I enjoy answering them. I appreciate the time you gave me. That's like half an hour of tiktok scrolling. You've spared just to write this for me, I'm so thankful.

Send them whenever you want to send them and I'll answer them whenever I want to answer them. I know you're not obliged to, so I never expect them, I'm just immensely happy when I see them.

Make sure to take care of yourself. Do something that makes you happy because you deserve happiness and it shouldn't be earned.

Thanks for congratulating me on refunding a game on steam. It feels silly to say out loud. But paranoia is a bitch and I avoid customer service like the plague so it was a big step for me to refund them casually because I didn't like them. Thanks <3

Oh and my mom's birthday went fine, I got her flowers and she liked them. I wasn't satisfied with a basic gift, so I kept searching for a book I know wanted for a long time, and eventually, I found it after a month! It arrived yesterday, and she immediately started reading it.

#☆other

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

The Only Apology Acceptable - Frank Iero x Reader

Summary: After a shitty birthday you get surprised by your best friend Reader: can be read as any gender Warnings: swearing, hints at self-negelect, stress bc of exams (yes, that’s a warning now), poorer proofreading than usual, shitty friends Word count:3 948 A/N: Very self-indulgent. It’s not my birthday tho. I just never celebrate my actual birthday bc the date is shit, so I celebrate it today. Or… not. The part with my dad actually happened.

You should not be this upset, you told yourself. You were no five year old anymore, who considered her birthday the most important day of the year.

And it was not like you were all too keen to be the centre of attention either. In fact, it was the strange mixture of not wanting to be the centre of attention and the need for reassurance that people cared about you, which had led to you only half-heartedly suggesting to your college friends that you could all go out together tonight, to celebrate your birthday. Last week almost all of the people you hung out with (to call them friends would have been an overstatement) had agreed to your plan, but over the past few days more and more of them had cancelled. Which sucked, sure, especially when the one person you really wanted to see on your birthday, namely your best friend Frank, was halfway across the country, touring with his band.

To make the whole situation worse was the upcoming deadline for an essay you had to finish, one that was supposed to be a partner project, but your partner was… well, his standards were not as high as yours.

And, to make your birthday even shittier was the exam on the day after.

All of this would have been bearable, especially since Frank had shot you a message at exactly midnight, sending you a picture of him trying to form a heart with his fingers. Even that you mother, who lived two towns over, did not have time for you, was okay. You knew there were family matters she was involved in, family matters that you would have to deal with if she did not, so you were rather thankful, she took care of them.

She had called you in the morning, a few minutes before you were due to leave the house, wishing you a happy birthday. You could tell she was stressed and in a hurry, so you had assured her it was fine to cut the conversation short. By then it was almost time for class, and even though you knew you would have to spend more than eight hours in a stuffy, hot classroom, you somehow were looking forward to seeing your friends.

You knew there would be no surprise gifts or anything; the group you hung out with were not the kind of people to prepare something like that, and you were not the kind of person to receive gestures like that.

Nonetheless you had to admit it hurt a little, when none of them even mentioned your birthday. But well, you forgot birthdays often enough as well.

What did hurt was finding out that the whole group had planned on going out in the evening, to a nice new Japanese restaurant that had just opened the other month. You were sitting right next to them, as they discussed the plan for the evening, unable to help but wonder if they had cancelled on you for the restaurant.

You almost did not dare asking if you could come to, but you decided that if you did not, and they failed to invite you, your misery was on nobody but you. What you had not expected was their pitiful glances as they told you they had already reserved a table, and had not counted you in. That was the moment you decided that this birthday, like about all the others before too, sucked, and that you wanted it to be over as quickly as possible.

In your break you texted Frank, hoping he would tell you some absolutely crazy story from tour that might cheer you up, but by the time your classes ended, you still had not received a response from him.

On the way home you passed a supermarket and two bakeries, every time considering to buy a treat for yourself, a piece of cake, maybe a snack for the studying you still had to do, or a frozen pizza to make for dinner. But every time you felt too miserable for it, feeling like you would not enjoy it either way.

You had just taken you shoes off in the hallway of the small flat you were living in, when your phone rang. For the first time of the day excited, you answered, finding it was your father who had called. He was on a business trip, and wanted to tell you about his day. With not one word he mentioned your birthday, and you did neither. You knew he had his own workload and had probably forgotten which day it was, but when you hung up, after joking around with him for several minutes, you could not help the tears that began blurring your vision.

Not feeling like eating anything, you tried napping, but the whole time your mind circled around the exam you had to write the following day, and the essay you still had to edit.

So after almost ten minutes of restlessly laying on the couch you grabbed your mobile, realizing that Frank still had not answered, and eventually moved to your desk, beginning to revise the material for the exam one last time. It was hard staying focused, your mind again and again straying to your friends.

You wondered if the others were already at the restaurant, if any of them had remembered that it was your birthday today. Had they even felt the slightest bit bad for not having invited you, birthday or not?

And why was Frank not answering? During the day he never took longer than two hours to shoot a message back at you, but now it had almost been eight. Was he asleep? Their next show was half a week away, as you knew, so he could not be busy with that. What was he up to when they did not play shows? Did they go sightseeing? Had he even spared you another thought today?

After you had finished your last revision of the day, you grabbed an apple as a sorry excuse for dinner and began editing the essay.

You were halfway through, when you decided you had enough of the silence around you, and turned on the small, shitty TV in the corner of the room, letting it quietly play some crime show you were not interested in. You had made it to the last paragraph of your essay, when suddenly there was a ring at your doorbell, startling you terribly.

Wondering who might have the audacity to drop by, you got up from your crouched over position at the desk, and stretched. Maybe it was one of your neighbours. Many students lived in this apartment complex, since the rent was very cheap, so maybe one of them needed eggs or salt or something. As you made your way to the door, you quickly thought through the contents of the fridge. No, no eggs, you didn’t have eggs. Salt though, you had salt. Flour too, even baking parchment, if that was what the poor fellow came looking for.

When you opened the door, nothing could have prepared you for who was waiting on the other side.

Heavy backpack lazily flung over his shoulder, cuddled in an oversized sweater with his worn out jeans jacket on top, and black hair totally tousled, Frank shot you a wide grin as you opened the door, and stopped in your track.

“Happy birthday,” he laughed, quickly engulfing you in a hug. It took you a moment to process what had happened, your face already buried in the soft fabric of his hoddie, when you hugged back.

“What are you doing here,” you asked incredulously, pulling away from Frank, even though he had been all you had been thinking about for the last few hours.

“Well, I kinda had a feeling my best friend was having a shitty birthday, so I grabbed the first flight I could get, and decided to surprise you,” he shrugged, his eyes nervously watching your reaction, as if he was scared you would be upset with him.

“I- Frank- but don’t you have shows to play?”

“None that I can’t make it back to in time,” Frank answered casually, making you wonder how long exactly he had taken to make the decision to come see you. Probably barely long enough to find a flight here and back to the city he was scheduled to play at next.

“You’re impossible,” you sighed, “come in.”

“Already thought you wouldn’t offer,” Frank grinned, and bent down, picking something up from the floor. “For you.”

Stunned you took the small bouquet of flowers he had practically shoved in your face as he stepped past you into your flat. Sunflowers, red roses and baby’s breath were tied in a playful but also… romantic arrangement. You pushed the thought out of your head, since you had forbidden yourself years ago to hope for any romantic interest from Frank’s side. These were probably the only flowers he had found in the airport flower shop this late in the evening.

“Where is everyone?”

Frank had thrown his backpack onto the small bench in the hallway, taken off his shoes and jacket, and stepped into your tiny living room, which at the same time was your study, kitchen and dining room. Only the bath and the bedroom were separated, although the bedroom was barely big enough for your bed.

“Hm?”

Having closed the door, you had followed Frank, searching for a glass, in lack of vases, for the flowers.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to invite people over for a party or something?”

Frank looked around the room, noticing the washed and dried cereal bowl next to the sink, obviously from this morning, the left overs of the apple you had eaten earlier on a small plate next to your opened laptop, which displayed a document you had been working on, one that looked pretty official. Nothing whatsoever hinted at a party or even a small get together. No decorations, no glasses or beverages or snacks prepared. He already regretted having mentioned anything; it was obvious the plan had changed.

“Everyone cancelled on me,” you answered, filling the glass you had fetched with water and placing the flowers in it. “You didn’t check your phone, did you?”

“Died on me,” Frank nodded. “What happened?”

“I don’t know really,” you answered, walking over to your desk and saving the document you had worked on before clearing the table so you could place the flowers on it. With the little space you had, you opted for using your desk as dinner table. “Just… they all cancelled and today I found out they ended up having booked a table at this new fancy restaurant.”

“Why didn’t you ask to join,” Frank wondered, finally settling down on the sofa that stood against one of the walls, as he watched you rummage through your cupboard.

“Don’t think I didn’t,” you answered, pulling out a kettle and setting up water to boil. Frank grinned as he watched you grab some tea from the shelf. You always made tea for him when he came to visit, and he tried telling himself it was just in his head, but he was convinced your tea was the best he had ever had. “They said they hadn’t planned me in, so they didn’t have the seats.”

Behind your back you could hear Frank stiffening. “That’s asshole behaviour,” he snarled.

You did not have to turn around to know the expression he was wearing; furrowed brows, lips tightly pressed together. You knew his malcontent was not directed at you, and yet it always made you feel uncomfortable, seeing him upset like this.

He was protective over you sometimes, you knew that, but the way he stared at a spot outside the window now, made your heart clench. All day you had felt ignored and unloved, but Frank, with one single expression expressing his anger at you having been treated unfairly made up for the whole shitty day.

“It’s okay,” you tried reassuring him, waiting for the water to boil, mainly to see his face soften back into the beautiful smile you loved to see on him.

“It’s fucking not,” Frank disagreed getting up from the sofa. “That’s absolute bullshit! How dare them!”

“That’s just how life is,” you shrugged.

“No it’s not. At least it’s not supposed to be.” Frank reached over your shoulder, flicking the switch of the kettle off.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re going out, and I’m telling these people exactly what I think about them leaving my best friend hanging,” Frank declared, already marching into the hallway to put his shoes back on.

“The fuck you are!”

Grabbing him by the back of his shirt, you brought him to a stop.

“Why not?”

“You can’t just march into that restaurant, and start beef with some college students!”

“Again: why not? You deserve better than to be treated like this! If I hadn’t randomly decided to jump into a plane this morning, you’d probably still be sitting over that paper or whatever you were writing. All alone. On your birthday!”

For a moment you stared up at Frank, at his black hair hanging in wild strands into his forehead, at his hazel eyes flashing passionately in the dim light of your flat, at the way his jaw was clenched angrily. And just for a moment you allowed yourself to imagine the scenario of Frank waltzing into a fancy Japanese restaurant with all his unrestrained, by band- and punk-life sharpened blades of anger, and telling your college mates just exactly what he thought of them letting you down. It truly would be a sight to behold.

“We don’t even know if they’re still there,” you argued finally.

For a few more seconds Frank stared at you, before he deflated.

“Fuck, okay.” He shook his head, giving his shoes next to the door a long look. “Fine, you win. But only under one condition.”

Expectantly you raised your eyebrows.

“You tell me what kind of take-out you want, and let me order.”

For a moment you felt tempted to tell him you did not want to eat anything. Earlier in the evening, when you had forced down the apple, you had felt sick at the thought of food, but now you realised just how hungry you were.

“Italian,” you decided spontaneously, knowing there would be no point in arguing with Frank over what to order.

“Then I know just the place,” he grinned. Placing both hands at your shoulders, he maneuvered past you to reach your phone station, but not without pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

It was over quicker than you had time to register it, his lips warm against your skin one moment and gone the next, but the gesture made your heart beat faster, and your cheeks heat up.

While Frank dialled the number to whatever place he seemed to have memorized it from, you returned back to the kettle with water, turning it back on, before you turned off the TV, which had still been running.

A few minutes later Frank came back to join you in the living room, and settled back down on the sofa.

While you were waiting for whatever Frank had ordered, you shared the tea you had prepared, and talked about what you had experienced in the time since you had last seen each other. Frank obviously had the far more interesting stories, having travelled around the country and all, but he was curious and listened to everything you had to say, his attention on you feeling intense, as he watched you gesture around.

It turned out it had been a wise decision to let Frank order. The delivery service dropped off several small boxes with different kinds of pastas, two huge pizzas, one of which your absolute favourite, drinks, and a box with tiramisu. Frank insisted on paying, basically battling you in the doorway about who got to pay, making the elderly Italian man who had dropped off the food raise his eyebrows at you. You lost the fight quickly, and were back on your way to the living room, balancing the food as good as possible in your arms, as you overheard the two men talking in the hallway.

“I didn’t know you had a sweetheart, Frank,” the old man teased.

“Well, you don’t always know everything,” came the reply that made your heart stutter. He hadn’t denied it. And even if this meant technically nothing, it still reminded you off the kiss he had pressed to your forehead not half an hour ago.

You had barely piled all the boxes onto your desk, when Frank joined you, and together you opened everything and spread it out over the small couch table, so you could sit comfortably while eating.

It felt like it was way past midnight, but the clock only showed 10pm, when you had finished the tiramisu. There were some leftovers from the pasta dishes, and neither Frank nor you had finished your pizzas, since you had strategically calculated enough space in your stomach for the desert, so you packed everything up, stored the leftovers in your formerly almost empty fridge, and cuddled back up on the sofa.

It was not unusual for you and Frank to sit close, but now he had pulled your legs over his lap, and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, allowing you to rest your head against his. You were not sure what he was thinking as he drummed small rhythms against your thigh, or why he had pulled you in like that, but after such a disappointing day as today, you really needed his comfort, really needed him. He smelled of cheap airport coffee and his shampoo, which you loved so much, and his hair softly tickled your face.

“Don’t you have an exam tomorrow,” he suddenly remembered, pulling away a little, and thus your moment of peace was destroyed.

“Thanks for reminding me,” you whined, dropping your head to his shoulder.

“At what time do you need to get there,” he asked, continuing to drumming his fingers against your thigh in a rhythm only he could make out.

Trying to remember the time you answered him.

“So you should get up by… ten? Latest. Maybe we should get you to bed,” Frank thought out loud.

“That’s still more than nine hours,” you defended, as you glanced at the clock. It had been 10pm when you had cleaned up the table but now it was almost quarter to one. Had you really spent this much time cuddling with Frank? It had felt like minutes, not long enough anyway.

“But I need you to be well rested tomorrow, so you can give it your all,” he gently nudged his nose against your head, coaxing you to look up at him.

You wanted to answer, to talk back, but the words died in your throat. Frank’s face was so close to you that you could see every tiny freckle, even in the dim, orange light of you old lamp. His eyes studied your face closely, as you just stared at him, unable to look away or think of anything to say or do.

And in the next moment his lips were pressed to yours, making your breath hitch. Instinctively you brought up your hands to his face, cupping it, as he kissed you first gently, then more demanding. You had half a mind to wonder why he had kissed you, why he kept kissing you, too focused on how soft his lips were, on how sweet he tasted, with the last traces of cream and coffee from the tiramisu lingering on his tongue as he licked against your lips. You gave in, throwing all the resolutions of the past years out of the window. Every thought of ‘he doesn’t like you like that’ and ‘you’re just friends, you shouldn’t think about him this way’ evaporated into thin air as he kissed you deeper, pulled you closer. Your hands were wrapped into his soft curls, the only remaining thought in your head being that you never wanted this moment to end, when suddenly he froze up, and pulled away.

“Shit, fuck, I’m sorry,” he swore, turning his face away from you as well as possible with you halfway sitting in his lap. “Fuck, god damn it.”

“Frankie?”

Your voice was rough, and your heart hammering in your chest, as you tried turning his face back to you, but he resisted your gently touch.

“Did I- did I do something wrong,” you asked carefully, refusing to move away from him already, since he made no attempt of pushing you off. Instead he covered his face with his hands, but not before you could see that he was blinking rapidly.

He laughed a joyless laugh. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he mumbled into his palms. “But I messed up fucking big time.”

You waited for him to elaborate, but when he did not, you gently brushed one of your hands through his hair, the other over his fingers that still covered his face.

“Is this about the kiss,” you asked, and for a long moment you expected him not to answer, before he eventually looked up at you.

His eyes were red rimmed, but there were no tears, only tightly pressed together lips as he carefully scanned your face.

“I fucked up, I shouldn’t have kissed you,” Frank explained, breaking your heart a little. “Just because I’ve wanted to do this for so long doesn’t mean you-“ he swallowed, “If you want me out of here, I completely get that. I wouldn’t want some creep who just threw himself at me-“

“You’re no creep, Frank, shut the fuck up,” you interrupted him.

For yet another moment you just looked at each other, before he spoke up again.

“I’m sorry for kissing you,” he mumbled. You nodded, resisting the urge to tell him that you had not minded at all, might have even asked him to kiss you if you had known he had wanted to. “How can I make this up to you?”

His hazel eyes were full of sincerity, and yet the awkwardness of him apologizing for overstepping a boundary while you were still seated in his lap did not escape either of you.

“Well,” you gently brushed you hand through his hair again, his curls silky under your fingertips, as you remembered what he had said, that he had wanted to kiss you for a long time. “The only apology I think I can accept is another kiss.”

You watched as Frank processed your words, as their meaning reached through to him, and he perked up.

“You sure,” he asked, his eyes flickering to your lips, watching them as you smiled.

“Absolutely. A kiss and nothing else will do. You’re not the only one who has wanted this for too long.”

It was as if your words had broken a wall because Frank quickly leant forward, once more pressing his lips to yours as you giggled and pulled him in closer.

“Wait, wait-“ This time Frank did not pull away completely, just far enough to be able to whisper against your lips. “This is not a onetime thing right? ‘cause I don’t think I could take it if it were.”

“No-uh,” you shook your head slightly, “you’re stuck with me for as long as you’ll have me.”

“I see nothing to complain about then,” Frank smiled, bringing his lips back against yours, and kissing you again with all the love he had not dared showing you before.

Tagged:

@alexstyx​​ @recommendedattheprice @jayloverthe3rd​​ @robinruns​​ @lookalivefrosty​​ @butterflycore​​ @vamp-void @angelevansfalls @omgsuperstarg​ @reinaeru​ @deadlovers​ @kpopchangedmylifesstuff​

#frank iero x reader #frank iero x reader fluff #frank iero x you #frank iero fanfiction #frank iero fanfic #my chemical romance fanfic #my chemical romance fanfiction #my chemical romance imagine #my chemical romance imagines #frank iero imagines #frank iero imagine #fluff #friends to lovers #Happy Birthday

[dearweirdme]

https://www.tumblr.com/dearweirdme/721131331730489344/hi-essay-leaving-jikook-anon-i-can-tell-you-are?source=share

Thanks for ur response. Atleast I appreciate the fact that you are not rude, but please understand one thing! I am hurting yes, but not because i think Taekook is real. I am hurting because this world is messed up! I am angry because of how hypocritical and difficult pple can be. I am angry because of how easily pple forget things when new things start happening. I am angry because of all the hate Jimin gets because of all this nonsense. Do u think I believe in Jikook because i want to? Hell no! If it were left to me, i would NEVER put Jimin in this mess! You have no idea how much i pray for every day that Jimin has someone else in his life so he has peace! I believe in Jikook because the signs are there! They have always been there and even now, that we barely get any jikook interactions they are still there! You say i see things with a tunnel vision? No! I don’t. I have taken the time to study all the member dynamics and the only one that is exclusive is Jikook’s. You see, i didn’t start believing in Jikook because of the good moments. It was the painful moments, the difficult to watch moments, and even today my believe in them became stronger after seeing Jk sorta pulling away when Jimin cupped his face in his palms. For most pple, including Jikookers, that is not a good thing and in a way they are right but u see hun, trying to know which ship is real is not just about the moments, you have to put into consideration the members personalities as well! Even before i knew about Taennie, i never for a single second believed Taekook was real because of the sheer lack of panic! You know how some of y’all say Jimin makes Jk uncomfortable? U know how Jk always looks super comfortable with Tae no matter what Tae does, while he pulls aways or looks uneasy or uncomfortable with Jimin whenever he tries to just put his arms around him? That to me is the difference! Unlike other jikookers who do not see or refuse to admit that Jk usually looks uneasy around Jimin, i see it and i can admit it, and while Taekookers and anti’s use that as proof that Jk hates Jimin, I understand that, that is Jk not knowing how to handle it when Jimin gets touchy and he gets panicky. Hun, when you have nothing to hide, you are your most comfortable. It’s not the same when u have alot to hide or be guilty for. Think about Jk’s personality and it fits personally. Jk has had his bold moments with Jimin and that is why Jikook moments that JK initiates are the loudest! When Jk is in control, he is bold, when he isn’t, he gets extremely standoffish with Jimin. Not because he doesn’t like Jimin touching him but because he doesn’t know how to deal with it. You never initiate touches with someone whose touches you don’t enjoy. U don’t hover around someone you are uncomfortable with. I’m sure if u check will see threads of other Taekookers showing moments when Jk was extremely standoffish with Jimin. But u know the thing about edits, or shorts, they are extremely deceptive cuz u don’t see what happens b4 or after. Why do you think there are tons of Taekookers? Why do you think Taekook edits always get hits? It’s cuz it’s usually all sweet and beautiful, plus you taekookers are gifted when it comes to editing. I just saw an edit u posted below, of Jk apparently whispering something to Tae and Tae coming to stand by his side after that! It’s cute and beautiful and anyone will see that and believe TK is real but what is not shown is what ACTUALLY happened. I dare you to find that full video and watch and tell me if what is shown in that edit is really what happened. Just check and see what i am saying. You know why there aren’t that many jikookers? No it’s not cuz many more pple can clearly see TK’s love. Its not cuz Jikook is obviously not real and only Jokers believe them. It’s cuz with Jikook you get to see what a real relationship actually looks and feels like. It’s not always pleasant to watch. The avoidance, the rejection, the bad times etc. Nobody gets butterflies watching stuff like that.

Hi again essay leaving anon!

See, this is the message you left last night that I was going to respond to. Because it's different from what Jkkrs usually send me. And then you go and spend the whole night (at least to me it was nighttime) creating another account, pretending to be someone else (when your wording clearly gives you away) and sending me 4 more lengthy asks. Can you not see how that is a little troublesome? I am going to block you after this, and I will block you every time in the future, because you make me uncomfortable, and that is not because of the information you send me, but because you have made me too important. Who cares what I think! Honestly, i am not that much of a big deal.

You don't know this, but I am a trained media and literature researcher and analyser. I have training in psychology, sociology and journalism. All on a high level. I'm not practising those in my proffesion, but I know what I'm doing. You coming to my blog calling me "hun" and "dear" every few seconds comes of as condescending.

From your follow-ups it becomes clear we think very differently about what body language means and how Jk and Jimin and Tae react to those things. You see Jk resisting Jimin as a sign of him not knowing what to do, but he does love him... I see it as Jk claiming his personal space, because you just don't let anyone in there. Tae and Jk have always been more receptive of each others touches, you say so yourself. People are most comfortable with their partners, that is just such a normal logical way of thinking. I know camera's make everything different, but not that. Not the leaning into touches, the not shrugging them of, the familiarity of it all. It's a safe feeling, and that how it is between Tae and Jk... but you admit to seeing that yourself. Jk shrugs of other members too, but not as obviously, because the other members are less prone to be intimate themselves. There are just less moments of that happening in general. We see Jk differently. I agree that he was less receptive of skinship in general early on. He grew into it though. He came to like it and he came to be a generous instigator of skinship himself. Both Jimin and Tae helped him with that I feel. But it is obvious (and you say so yourself) that Tae was the one Jk leaned on and learned from the most. Tae is the thread that leads throughout Jk's whole development. Jimin had a development too. A seperate one. A tough one, that I feel he has struggled with a long time. Jimin struggled (and maybe still does) with a lot of insecurities. Both he and other members have talked about how hard he practised and how much work he put in. I think one of the reasons Jimin did part of promo with Yoongi is because he still struggles with insecurities. Jimin has had to work hard on becoming who he is now and allowing for his softer side. I think Jk might have played a part in that... being the cute little brother type. And I think Jimin allowed himself to be softer around Jk because of that age difference. He probably was hurt by Jk... because Jk has edges and he does not like being babied. He probably also saw the way Tae and Jk were and wanted to be able to do the same, since Tae and him are the same age. Those moments of hurt you talk of... are Jimin's personal struggles.

When I read this frst part of your asks I thought to myself "they have experienced heartbreak like what they describe here" and to no surprise of mine you talk about that in your next ask. This is personal to you. You identify with Jimin (i feel) and you make exuses for Jk (your ex-partner). I feel sorry for you having been in a situation that hurt you. But you cannot project this onto Jimin and Jk. Always be aware of your own biases. I have mine, and I always take those into account. I can also see parts of me in Jk. I am also an introvert who is able to switch 'on'. A lot of what I see Jk do and how he responds to both Tae and Jimin fits in how I would expect him to. None of us are male-queer-idols-in-SK though.

We differ in the way we see Jk and Jimin and Tae, and we differ in the way we think Bighit/Hybe allows them to be free. I think there is no way they'll allow an actual queer couple to be open like how you describe it. It goes against SK standards, Sk's way of dealing with idols, the music industry in general, the way boybands are marketed in general... none of those make it likely that Bighit/Hybe would let Jikook be as 'obvious' as Jkkrs in general make it seem. The way Taekook have been portrayed though, that does fit the picture.

You say Jimin tried to kiss Jk several times on camera... that is not what that is! It is playful, seductive maybe... but it is for the camera's. Look up tension between Hopemin or Vmin even... please do!

I could go on and on really, but I'm not going to disect all those moments you sent me. I do not have time for that, and I am not insecure about those. Please stop looking at my blog for your own sanity.

#taekook #straws #ship analysis

[gojonanami]

Dearest Sab,

I can't even find the words to express how much I have enjoyed reading chapter six and this series as a whole.

For me, this series holds such a special place. I have had so much fun watching its inception, reading each part, thinking about it, and I am so happy that it concluded on such a wonderful note. I think I will look on this time fondly – I have truly had such a fun time reading your work, engaging with your page and watching this story grow.

As for this chapter, I truly really enjoyed it. It's so good. I loved the way you chronicled their journey. I am so amazed – you're honestly such a fantastic writer. The dialogue literally made me cry.

I think the lines said by Suguru were some of the most romantic lines I've read. I was literally, physically moved as I read them. They're just so potent. You can literally feel his love through the screen.

This chapter was so enchanting that I just can't find enough words to chronicle it. It's such a beautiful stories that I can wax on and on and write pages on your story. I just know that I can write a 5000 word response to this series – the length of a short dissertation.

I am still reeling from the scenes. They're replaying in my head. From the beginning scene, to the scenes with Yuta, to Suguru's dream, the ice cream date, the presentation, the reconciliation...

And, oh my gosh, Yaga knowing? Ah, of course he'd know! And it ended up being so sweet...

And the scene in Suguru's office? His passion, want and love? It was so romantic, I literally had to pause and stare up at the ceiling because I was feeling myself getting heart eyes. It's so good.

And the end too?? The poodle?? And getting a new place? How sweet?

(Also, you set up Yuta's part so nicely. Looking at his future? What a cool way of doing it!!!)

This is such a beautiful series. I love it so much. I love Professor Geto so, so much. He's so, so cute.

Thank you so, so much for producing this gift <3

I know you've written before about worrying about writing long stories, but honestly, I have enjoyed them so much. I loved reading each part – they read so well & they flowed so well.

I'd like to acknowledge how much work you've put into this series. I respect you so much and admire you so, so, so much for writing so much and so well and so cleanly.

Thank you for writing this series which holds such a special place in my heart. It is truly a gem. A beautiful, beautiful gem.

Dearest anon,

this is so sweet — I can’t find the right words to reply to this 😭💕the series holds such a special place in my heart too and the fact so many of you resonated with it means the world to me. the engagement and love you all had for this series was the thing that kept me going and kept me inspired so thank you really 💕😭

I’m so glad 💕 I’m sorry it made you cry but also thank you 🫶🥹😭 it’s one of the highest compliments a writer can receive 🫶 it means so much to me that you especially enjoyed this part since it is the conclusion to the series and I’ve seen so many of my favs ruined by a lackluster ending which is why I went about this s particular way and way it took me two weeks to write it (even though I’m on break between jobs at the moment).

that is so sweet and if anyone wrote an essay about my fic I think I would sob because this ask is already enough to make me cry haha. I’m so glad the scenes were memorable — I was worried it wasn’t cohesive enough and truly tried to make sure it was.

Yaga wasn’t supposed to know but as I wrote it, I thought it would be perfect for him to know 😭 and to help them find each other again.

after how much happened in that goddamn office with me toying with all of you, I had to let them do it at least once hahaha.

ahhhh I’m glad you liked the ending — I had that last scene in mind from before I started part five — I only knew I was going to reference the first scene of part one. the rest came as I wrote it. and the set up for yuta came after since I added it in since I nearly forgot to add it in there.

thank you so much for reading and for your lovely words — I can’t tell you how much they mean to me. I do worry about it haha -/ it seems like the stories that are popular are just smut — and I like including smut but I also love writing complex human relationships (not bashing pnp in any way because smut is so freaking difficult to write) and so my fics are long — and obviously that’s not for everyone. It makes me happy that it flowed well 😭😭😭 I always worry about that!!

thank you so much for reading and for being here and for your incredibly kind words — there’s no words I can find to thank you for being here and sending this my way. 🥹💕 I hope you’re here for the other stories I wrote 🫶

#sab [asks] #sab [anons] #sab series [prof suguru] #sab [praise]

[thespacelizard]

i will continue being a nosy bitch about your fics ⭐

ahhh now i have to pic a fic to wax lyrical about.

ok. despite having Vizaeth brainrot, i'm gonna do some commentary for the last obedience fic, For Want of Attention, in honour of actually posting the next one soon. lets see how long this gets.

ok it's not heinously long, but i'm going to put a courtesy cut anyway.

Ashenivir's Partners

one of the things i really wanted to do with them was to show how they all aren't quite right for Ashenivir, thus proving that, by contrast, Rizeth is

So Tolothan is sweet, and cares for his wellbeing; but the kind of care that Ashenivir wants is not the kind he's willing to give, he in fact finds it appalling that Ashenivir would want to be hurt. He gives Ashenivir a necklace (a collar parallel), and it's physically the same gift, but emotionally it's meaningless - 'Just Tolothan's way of saying thank you.' Whereas the collar, though Rizeth 100% did not intend for it to end up with so much weight, is a very deep and meaningful gift, despite the fact that it's physically a lot less impressive.

Nalvayat is rough with him, but there's nothing there beyond physical transaction. Which, on a purely technical level, is all there's supposed to be with Rizeth - sex for mutual satisfaction, plus tutoring as payment. But it's clear that Ashenivir needs a more emotional connection, regardless of whether he's properly aware of it. Nalvayat fucking him stupid does nothing for him emotionally, whereas even non-sexual kink and punishments with Rizeth are extremely fulfilling.

The other referenced frequent paramours both do things that are piecemeal what he wants, but as he himself notes, 'Rizeth would have done all of it, and better than any of them'. I wanted to show that he's done what he's been saying, all his bedmates have been a search for what he wants/craves/needs out of a partner, and he has so many because none of them give him everything that he needs.

Only Rizeth gives him all the things he needs out of a relationship, even if Ashenivir hasn't realised what that means yet.

And there's poor fucking K'yozen, who just wanted a hookup bless his heart. Ashenivir doesn't need a hookup, he needs a partner who understands the deeper parts of him, not just surface level that he's hot and horny and good in bed.

The Final Straw

so when i was drafting this, i was messaging my beta like 'it's super funny that in this fic Ashenivir does all these stupid things to get Rizeth's attention, but it's not doing an essay that finally breaks him' and they went:

'well, that's the thing that's really out of character for him, isn't it?'

and i was like. shit. I accidentally did something really smart here hold on.

because Rizeth can - at great emotional pain - ignore Ashenivir sleeping with other people, acting out, all this stuff, but the number one thing in his mind is that what they do cannot damage Ashenivir's studies. He cannot be remotely responsible for Ashenivir failing at the Arcanum in any way. And it's seeing that what he's done has pushed Ashenivir to take that kind of a risk that breaks him to bring them back together.

Because he would rather suffer in emotional silence than risk Ashenivir's future. That's bigger than both of them.

POV

this fic fought me a lot in drafting, and originally it was the standard split POV. what this means is that there is, in my cut scenes folder, a Rizeth POV to Ashenivir furiously masturbating to trigger his collar. so if you want a very very rough cut of What Rizeth Did the first time Ashenivir tried that, i can like. post it.

it's very rough, but i was sad that I had to cut it /shrug. just what happens when you realise a fic needs to be in a certain POV to work the best.

#fox number 1 obedience ramble enabler #obedience fic blogging #obedience fic meta