#// he likes grapes in general because you can turn them into wine

[muraenide]

𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 / 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒. *

• favorite fruit(s): peaches, white grapes, gooseberries

• favorite activity(ies): swimming, hiking, sculpting, sketching, painting

• favorite flower(s): amaranth, daffodil, snowdrop, daisies

• favorite season(s): spring, autumn and winter

• favorite insect(s): bees

• favorite animal(s): platypus

• favorite gem(s): opal

• favorite time of day: late evening when the sunsets and early dawn when it rises

Tagged by: @sweetlybite

#// he likes grapes in general because you can turn them into wine #// sculpting is an old hc i have for jade; but he's a good sculptor especially back in the coral sea #// he likes autumn and winter bc they're the coldest seasons; sprint because its when nature blooms again #// he likes bees because he thinks theyre very disciplined and interesting #// he likes the platypus because he finds them amusing for hating the sound of water so much that it drives them mad #// he thinks opals look like someone managed to capture the ocean in the gemstone #// sunrise and sunset became his favourite time of the day thanks to witnessing them during his hikes #𖦹 ⋆꙳ ⁄ dash games.

[hiraya-rawr]

I can go anywhere I want, anywhere I want — just not home .

characters !! diluc, thoma (ft. ayato), kaeya, kazuha

content !! gn reader, kamisato reader (thoma), character lore spoilers, can be platonic/romantic, found family themes

about !! you encounter someone who can go everywhere but home

inspired !! my tears ricochet - taylor swift 🎵

— diluc .

“I hope you know how generous I’m being,” You say, sliding a bowl of mushroom soup to the redhead, “Not everyone would let a stranger stay in their home for a few days. More so if said stranger refuses to say a thing about themselves.”

It’s been a few days since you found the wanderer on the brink of death, snow piling on top of him by layers. Snezhnayan winters were not kind, if it weren’t for your dog demanding to go on a walk, you wouldn’t have bothered to check for any dying men on your street in the middle of nowhere.

“. . . I have offered my thanks,” He mutters, grabbing a spoon for the soup, “And I’ve told you. I’m simply traveling.”

“Travelers don’t usually lie soaked by their own frozen blood around here.” You sit across from him, your own hot bowl of soup nestled between gloved fingers, “But seeing as you have a delusion, I suppose you’re trusted by the Fatui. It makes me wonder why you won’t simply ask them for help instead.”

“. . .”

At his silence, you chuckle, “Calm down. I don’t know your story, but I’d understand why you’re hiding away from them. They tend to abuse their authority, but I guess that’s the government for you.”

“Not Mondstadt. . .”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing.”

You point your spoon at him, a large smile on your face, “You said Mondstadt. You’re a Mondstadter, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t reply. Not that he needs to, you’re already rambling away with the newfound knowledge, “I knew it! Your accent suits Mondstadt the most! Not that I would know much. I’ve been in Snezh my whole life– oh, oh but what is it like? Out there? The land of freedom and song–“

Diluc finds himself sitting back, amused by your outburst. It’s certainly the most you two have talked in the days he spent recovering from his injuries. Despite initially not wanting to divulge any information about himself, he can’t help but beam with pride at the praise for his beloved nation.

“–And the wine! Oh, the wine- I’ve heard all about it. They’re imported here at a very high price, I could only imagine what a dandelion wine would taste like-“

“It’s not that amazing as it’s made out to be. But there are other drinks worth noting-“

“Like Death After Noon?”

“. . . I was going to say grape juice and cider.”

“You’re a little on the boring side, aren’t you?”

He rolls his eyes.

The conversation flows. The topic? Mondstadt. He tells you about the giant statue that looms over the city, one that you’ve only seen in paintings. You ask about the fields and weather, and he tells you of Dragonspine’s cold akin to that of Snezhnaya. When he starts to talk about the seashell filled beaches, you note the longing look on his face.

“. . . You really do love Mond, don’t you?” You ask, pushing aside the now-empty bowl.

“I do.” He answers, it sounds soft but firm.

“Then why are you here?”

It’s a question you were scared of asking. In fear that he’d hide away in his shell again. He goes quiet, looking down on his bowl.

"I. . . I can't go back."

"And why is that?"

Because going back would be acknowledging his father's death, his brother's betrayal, he's running away— he wants to go far, far away from the reality he's found himself in and fulfill a vengeance that couldn't be satisfied—

"There are things I have to do." He places down his spoon. It clanks on the hard wood of the table. "Please leave it at that."

He ends the conversation and you bite back your lip. He was building his walls again, walls that took you too long to crack down. You stand, taking his bowl in your hands along with your own to wash.

As you turn away from him, you hear him reach out softly.

"But. . . If I ever go back," he starts, "And if you'd like to explore beyond Snezh, then. . . " You turn to him, an eyebrow raised. "You're welcome to seek me out. I wouldn't mind touring you of my homeland." A small smile graces his face, it's the most expressive he's ever been since arriving.

“So you can smile!” You laugh, turning to the sink and starting the tap. He’ll have to help you wash them. “You look more prince-like when you do. Like a noble.”

He nearly chokes on his drink.

It takes years before you found the courage to ever step foot out of Snezhnaya, much less enter Mondstadt. One of the first things you signed up for was a tour of the ancestral Dawn Winery fields. Imagine your surprise, spotting a certain young master jotting down stocks as he looks over the vineyard.

Your shock mirrored his own, before it forms into a smile.

"I believe I promised you a personal tour?"

— thoma .

"What do you mean the borders are closed?"

"The borders are closed, the ports are closed, no ship is allowed to dock, these are the orders of the Shogun under the new decree."

Trapped in a foreign nation with little to no knowledge of its culture; with only ten mora in his pockets and a bottle of dandelion wine for a father he can't even find, Thoma finds himself in quite a predicament. This happened hours ago, with no idea what to do or where to go, Thoma sits under a shady tree.

"I don't think I could even buy myself a meal tomorrow. . ." He sighs, glancing down on the only thing he could afford. A measly looking meat bun wrapped within rice papers.

"Woof!"

Thoma turns to the side. A dog looks at him with eager and beady eyes.

"Hello there," he grins, "You on your own too?"

"Arf!"

The dog eyes the meat bun eagerly, tail wagging. Thoma really shouldn't, he really, really shouldn't be offering his only (and probably last) meal he could afford to a stray.

So he turns to the side, holding the meat bun closer to his chest. It's his meal.

"Woof woof!"

He nearly sobs in defeat. "Alright, alright, we can half–" ripping the meal into two, he gently places it in front of the stray who's only too eager to wolf it down from him.

"Arf!" A second dog appears by the first, eyes just as sparkly as the other as it eyes the half Thoma's holding.

Curse his weakness to puppy eyes.

He sighs, offering the other half to the stray, "You're lucky you're cute. I'm willing to starve because of y–"

"You there! What suspicious things are you offering to my dogs!" Several footsteps make their way to his spot, he looks up at the sound of the voice. Two individuals approach him, their garments clearly worth more than anything Thoma has ever owned. One was a taller male with a mole on his face, the other a little younger, following them was a small entourage of what Thoma could only assume were guards.

"A-ah, suspicious things?" He stutters. Did he somehow trespass into some noble's territory?

"Yes! That thing you handed. Are you poisoning my dogs?" You huff accusingly. This foreigner was a little suspicious. In the first place, it was strange to meet anyone foreign in the land of eternity, much more someone lounging about in the streets holding a bottle of alcohol.

"Poison? No way! It's just a meat bun! They looked hungry so I offered them my meal."

"A. . . meat bun?" You repeat carefully. That measly thing can't possibly be a meat bun, right? You turn to Ayato, whispering to him with a hand held up between your lips, "Brother, what do we do? Father said to be wary of suspicious individuals. I think he's suspicious. He's feeding the dogs weird things!"

Ayato smiles in amusement, "That meat bun certainly looked odd, but I don't think he's suspicious-" He turns to the blonde, standing upright, "You said that that was your meal?"

Thoma isn't sure why they looked so wary, "Yes? I mean, I'm aware it isn't much. But it isn't poison or anything!"

You share a look with your brother, Thoma recognizes that look to be pity. Was he really being pitied right now because of his meal? He wanted to groan away in embarrassment.

"Look, I don't want any trouble," Thoma says reluctantly, "I wasn't aware that these dogs were yours. If it solves anything, I can find another place to sit–"

"Brother, this poor foreigner must be starving! We must help him!" You whisper rather loudly to the boy next to you who only nods in agreement.

"I agree. How kind of my sibling to think of others." He pats your head, turning to Thoma with that same somewhat sly smile.

"These dogs are strays my sibling often feeds. They must've bothered you for your. . . meal since we're late to arrive today," Ayato explains, approaching him, "To repay your kindness of feeding the strays we're responsible for, you're welcome to join us for lunch."

A maid lays out a blanket across the ground, while another server brings out various goods from a basket. Thoma isn't sure how to reply as he finds himself seated between the two nobles.

"Um- ah, is it really alright for me to be eating this?"

Still a little shy about being on the receiving end of kindness, he gestures to the quality looking meat sandwiches.

"Eating this? No, this isn't for us." You state, reaching to grab a sandwich and handing it to an eager puppy, "This is for the strays. What my brother meant was that we'll treat you back in the Teahouse."

"Erm. . . teahouse?"

"Yup! Komore Teahouse. They serve excellent cuisines."

"O-oh, I've never been to one."

"Where are you from anyway?" You ask curiously, eyeing the blond's pretty green eyes.

"Mondstadt."

Ayato smiles, "You're a long way from home. . . The situation for foreigners now is rather difficult. If you stay with us, perhaps my family could offer you some assistance."

Thoma stares at the two of you, he's weighing his options. He needs a place to stay, maybe find a job, at least until the decree is stopped.

It's only temporary. Surely, he'll find a chance to go home someday.

"Alright."

— kaeya .

"I know I said I'd accompany you for the day, but don't you think we've traveled all of Mond already?" You whine, massaging your aching knees. It's been a long day of walking; from Springvale to Starfell Valley to Windrise, collecting Calla Lilies, Lampgrass flowers, and seashells by the beach.

It was an odd adventure, and an even more unusual request from the cryo user.

"I simply don't feel like being alone today." He told you hours prior. The tone was flirtatious and it almost made you blush, but you're not exactly an ignorant person. You're aware of the date.

It's April 30th.

To many, it's simply another day on the calendar; but to two brothers, it means so much more.

You never did find out what happened on Master Diluc's birthday. You were aware that it marked the passing of Crepus Ragnvindr, but that was pretty much it. The events that followed were more important to you; from befriending the seemingly lost Kaeya (you might never forget the heartbreaking look on his face back then) to witnessing his significant change into Cavalry Captain.

"Truly, I'm grateful for the good company," Kaeya chuckles at your display, snapping you from your thoughts, "How about one last stop? Then I'll escort you back home."

You hold back a sigh, reminding yourself that he does seem a little melancholic today. Besides, you don't exactly abhor his company.

"Very well."

He smiles, leading you up the hill near Springvale, where the Anemo Archon statue rests. It was a scenic view; the wind was gentle and the sun was slowly sinking into the horizon. As the archon statue comes into view, with fluttering crystalflies wary of your presence, you notice Kaeya's pace slowing.

He pauses right before the statue, but his starry eye was set on a more distant view.

The Dawn Winery.

There's a certain look on his face, something you can't quite identify but it clenches your heart all the same. Somehow, you want to reach out and hold him.

"You can place the flowers here." Kaeya says, kneeling by the statue and taking out the seashells he collected from the beach.

"I didn't take you for someone religious." You raise an eyebrow curiously, yet you follow his instructions and start arranging the flowers.

". . . There's a gravesite in the winery. It's entrance is reserved for family only." He says softly, fingers brushing over yours to hold the bundle of flowers. "Perhaps Barbatos would be so kind as to bring our prayers with the wind. That it may reach F- Master Crepus."

You stay silent, biting your lower lip. He's showing that face again, the one you've always hated on him during the early days of your friendship.

"If you ever feel. . . " Lonely, you think, but the word sounds like it could scare him away, "Like you need company, you could always invite me again. We can go anywhere you want."

"Anywhere I want, huh?" He smiles at you, a rare and gentle smile, "Alright."

The offerings did reach the tombstone that evening. Though it wasn't by Barbatos' grace, but by a redhead passing by the statue and recognizing the odd combination of gifts.

— kazuha .

"Captain Beidou doesn't take kindly to stowaways." You point your sword at the man. It was a normal day, having just left the port of Inazuma. You decided to check on the stocks below deck to ensure that nothing falls around as you go through a thunderous storm.

Imagine your surprise upon seeing a ragged samurai hunched behind crates with one bloodied hand holding onto something shiny.

You frown at the lack of reply. "What's that you go there? Something you stole?"

In all honesty, you're a little scared at his dead expression. His eyes are faraway, distant, like they're refusing to acknowledge a reality.

". . . are you hurt?" You ask, this time trying a different approach. His sword rested ways away from him, he seemed defenseless, almost like a lost kitten seeking shelter from the storm. You slowly kneel in front of him, weapon still by your side as you try to peek at what he's holding onto so tightly.

It was a vision without a glow. A musty fog seemingly trapped inside the crystal.

You've heard of the vision hunt decree— it's why the crew was in such a hurry to leave the archipelago, after all. You knew visions were being forcibly taken away, placed like trophies on the archon's statue. Frankly, it disgusted you to be displayed like that.

But why was this one murky? What had happened to the owner?

You weren't sure what kind of look you had on your face. Maybe it was confusion or anger, but the wanderer's eyes landed on your own and he pushes himself to speak.

"Please. . . don't send me back." He says and it sounds heartbreaking with the softness of his voice. You clench your jaw, holding back a sigh as you stand back upright.

"I'll inform Captain Beidou about you. I don't think she'd send you back, but. . . we should also get your hand treated." You say, reaching out to help him stand, "I have some bandages in my quarters. Do you think you could make it there?"

He nods once, grasping your hand as you both make your way above deck. Later, you'll find yourself with an incomparable travel companion. One that hums of songs that can lull any pirate to sleep. You'll reach every end of Teyvat with him, with the ocean welcoming you in every turn.

You're never stationary with him, always on the move. Despite that, perhaps he could find a permanent home with you.

m.list 2 || consider supporting me on ko-fi !

note !! this was written before i played kazuha's quest. in the lore, im aware that kazuha escaped inazuma thanks to the yashiro commission and not as a stowaway hahahah

taglist !! @absolut-wildflower @boundedbyfate @sadlonelybagel @eissaaaa @ladycoleigh @milkypompon @bloodreaper08 @irethepotato @x-zho @roriver @mich-cola @mxsomn @ackrylik @nicebonescomrade @starforecasts @stygianoir @nejibot @yuminako @eccedentesiast-sapphic @nebulaera @nuttytani @r4gnivindr @stygianoir14

#genshin #genshin impact #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #kazuha x reader #thoma x reader #ayato x reader #diluc #ayato #kaeya #kazuha #thoma #kamisato reader #genshin kazuha #genshin ayato #genshin diluc #genshin fluff #genshin angst #genshin angst/comfort #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin hcs

[onedaughterofman]

Admirer is so sweet 😭😭😭😭💛😭💛😭💛 soft Aether,,,, I'm so soft for him he's so comforitng, and it's such a sweet concept 💛💛💛💛💛💛💛 will we ever see a part 2?

I've got something for you, ghesties.

Little offerings (Aether ghoul x g/n reader)

The Nameless Ghoul is standing tall in front of you.

Shit.

This wasn't supposed to happen. The plan was simple. Leave the basket in front of the door, knock and then run away.

So easy.

Except, apparently, you were excessively loud. Guitar in his hands, the ghoul stands right under the doorway. His head is tilted to the side, in a blatant display of curiosity, and his eyes are obscured behind reflective glass. However, you feel that heavy and dark stare burning on your skin.

Gathering a deep breath, you lift the basket in his direction. Hours and hours of investigation have left you more confused than before, because there's no general agreement about what infernal creatures like the ghouls enjoy as offerings.

Chocolate, wine, coffee, grapes and apples are a reliable option. You added a few of your favorite candies and bananas, since he seemed to appreciate them. But now, under his penetrating eyes, everything is ridiculous.

“For you,” you say. The silence is unbearable, extremely intense on your exhausted body. It’s late in the afternoon and there’s nothing you want more than to go back to your room and maybe, just maybe, hide under the blankets. Ghouls are ancient creatures, forged by hellfire. They feed on human’s energy, almost like parasites. Alone in front of one, here you are offering him mundane human food.

Maybe it is really stupid.

Taking a step to the side, the Ghoul moves away from the door. His hand rises as he points at the table, in a unmistakable indication for you to set the basket there.

You obey. Moving fast, you place the offering on the table and turn around, ready to bolt away and just forget about this interaction. Your face is warm with embarrassment and the saliva is too thick inside your mouth.

It is impossible to go far away, because he's right behind you, standing way too close and towering over your figure with his presence alone. His energy is strong, more substantial than any normal human, and once again you're hit by that feeling of uncanny valley that makes your stomach shiver.

There's nothing you can distinguish behind the dark, reflective glass of his mask, nothing that offers any hint about what he's thinking about. Ghouls are unreadable creatures, unpredictable. Some time ago, one of them growled at you when you accidentally bumped into him on the hallways.

Even if the one in front of you is not hostile and aggressive, you still feel nervous. The Ghoul seems to notice your uneasinees, because he steps back and sits down again on the chair. His hands toy with the guitar strap as he adjusts it into place, letting his fingers fall on the instrument.

Breathing out, you take that as your cue to leave. Before you can take a step his foot moves to push the other chair away. His head points in the direction of the furnite, in a silent but clear invitation.

Sit down.

This is… not part of the plan, either. Despite that, you sit.

Still in silence, the Ghoul begins to play for you. It's a melody that charms you to the core, that moves something deep in your guts and heart. The pace is gentle, with lengthy notes that reverberate on the walls and your skin. It sounds almost like an old ballad, something that resembles the feeling of a declaration of love.

It's foolish to think so, but you don't care. Closing your eyes, you allow the music to soothe your nerves. By your side, the Ghoul leans his head, looks into your face and smiles.

Ps: In my head, the reason why Aether doesn't talk in this is because he's SO FUCKING NERVOUS. He wasn't expecting reader to give him something and now he's like OH SHIT WHAT DO I DO.

Not pictured: Dew in the hallways, screaming "FUCKING FINALLY" and just cheering for Aether. (He is tired of Aether constantly rambling about wanting to get closer to Reader but not knowing how).

#aether ghoul #aether ghoul x reader #ghost band #ghost band fanfic #ghost bc #the band ghost #nameless ghoul x reader #nameless ghouls #my writing #my fics #ask box #request #thanks for the ask! #ghost band fluff

[sleepnowmychild]

From no belief in particular to Helpol

Just because I find it interesting that so many helpol people and pagans in general seem to be ex-biblical religions, here’s a slightly different story for you.

I never grew up religious. My dad is actually very anti-religion because of the sheer amount of people who use religion as a weapon to discriminate, and the way many churches can become almost like a tiny cult. But my mums side of the family is Italian Christians (don’t ask me how my parents were even together at one point because I have no clue). So on one side I had my dad telling me to never trust a pastor and that he’d never let me set foot in a church and my Italian grandparents going all in on Christmas family reunions with the nativity scene set up and crosses on all their cards and church Christmas morning.

It made me very neutral. I didn’t care what existed, I was just a kid who was exited to pick grapes on our vineyard (which looking back, the fact I lived in a vineyard and made wine is very,,, hello Dionysus) and get days off school for Christmas holidays etc. I didn’t believe in the Christian god, but as a kid I did believe in an afterlife. I think because it’s easier to process that as a kid than death being just nothingness.

In primary school, we did a whole term in Greek mythology. My first ever myth was echo and narcissus and I still have the painted tea towel I made with echo on it for the art potion of that class. I got very obsessed, very quick, as undiagnosed autistic kids do. I loved mermaids and sirens, nymphs and the sailing part of all the war myths. I’ve always had this deep link to the water, not just the sea but rivers and lakes, any water you can swim in. You’d think I’d end up a Poseidon or Aphrodite devotee because of that huh? Point is I heard the Greek myths young, and because those myths also have Roman equivalents, when my Italian family heard I was obsessed I’d get the Roman version of the stories from them.

For years I was just mythology obsessed with no particular beliefs. I didn’t like how hardcore my Italian family was in their ‘everything is a sin’ mentality and I also felt it was a bit mean of my dad to say every single religious person is a monster. As I came to realise I was trans and bi at around 15, suddenly I was privy to the sheer amount of queerphobia in religion. Turned me away from most of them hardcore. But by the time I was 17, I’d stumbled on the reason those shops with the crystals and little mythology statues exist. Because the old gods of mythology were still worshipped.

I don’t actually remember when I got claimed by Hypnos, but he definitely claimed me. I’d always liked him as a concept because he’s much more chill than some of the more intense gods, but he slowly started creeping into my life when I’d see something and go ‘Hypnos would like that’ or I’d jokingly be like ‘I’m so tired, knock me out Hypnos’ and I WOULD fall asleep easier that night. I can’t exactly explain why, but I’ve got this deep connection to the river Lethe as well. Although not in the sense Lethe is a god, in the sense of its connections to Hypnos. Like there’s a siren of the Lethe inside me screaming to go back home.

In all honesty, there was never a solid moment I was like “I’m helpol now” it just kind of happened. The gods, especially Hypnos snuck into my life back in primary school and slowly made their presence more and more known over the years. And I was fine with that, because this is what my Roman ancestors would have been doing, and this is a religion that doesn’t hate me for being queer.

This got long, I’ll cut it short here. But that’s a perspective from someone who never grew up religious for you.

#hellenic polytheism #hellenic deities #hellenic pagan #hellenic worship #hellenism #hypnos devotee #hypnos god #greek mythology #hypnos deity #cthonic gods #hellenic polythiest #hellenic polytheistic #hellenic gods #hellenic community #helpol

[emberswrites]

I misread!!! Ignore my last ask.

Arranged Marriage + Uchiha (whichever you want)

Prompt Game - Ok the 3rd character is Madara bc I say he's alive here but he's not the only one.

Kakashi sits at the table in seiza, hands folded neatly as he is presented to the Uchiha clan head to finalize the engagement. Madara is over 70 years old by now, but he looks no more than 50. Good genes, of course, and not a small dose of spite he's sure. His brother Izuna sits to Madara's right and to his left Fugaku, his soon-to-be betrothed's father, next in line to lead the clan.

Lesser men would have pissed themselves by now.

Kakashi isn't nervous. He looks to his left, where Sasuke is seated diagonally from him and the rest. He's never seen Sasuke quite so formally done up, and the kimono he wears is not the usual Uchiha blue he favours, but a rich burgundy reminiscent of the grape wine the Uchiha sell by the barrel during festival season. From here, he can see how his intended fidgets, glance flickering between them all, his legs folded neatly under him but feet crossed cutely under his bottom, toes curling nervously. Kakashi tries and fails not to let his mind wander at the sight.

"Beautiful, is he not?" Madara says then, knowingly, and Kakashi slowly draws his gaze back to the three in front of him. He doesn't bother looking ashamed at being caught taking his fill, they are all men here and Sasuke's striking looks are no secret. "Just like Izuna was, a spitting image."

"Was?!"

Madara ignores his brother's exclamation, hand settling on a thigh soothingly as he continues talking.

"You know in the old days, you would have been expected to put up a respectable challenge against me to win the hand of a member of my clan."

"Indeed, I shall count myself fortunate, Madara-sama."

"Hm," Madara grunts, blowing smoke out of his pipe, "You might have done well, Hatake. No one is expected to win against me, of course."

"Of course."

"I have great respect for your father, you kin in general. I admire your loyalty and discretion in political matters. I will say, you may find us rather more...rambunctious."

"Passionate, Madara-sama. Lively. My father says I could use some of that in my life."

Kakashi is a shinobi through and through, but the Hatake hadn't sent him just because he is their strongest. There were others, Sasuke's age, but none so deft as to maneuver the halls of the Uchiha compound with the surprising ease he'd found himself to. This was after all a union beyond two people, fraught with all the diplomacy that would come with any member of the Uchiha becoming wed to an outsider, a rare enough occasion as it was.

Madara inclines his head at Kakashi, then turning to Sasuke who'd been looking at the interaction with barely concealed amusement.

"You find him acceptable then, Sasuke? There are plenty of others, of course. Our Sasuke has his pick of the village, and a few others."

Sasuke looks to Kakashi then, dark eyes alight. Kakashi admits when he'd first been asked to present as the Hatake's candidate for the youngest eligible Uchiha's hand, he hadn't been particularly invested. Then he'd sat for tea with him, then dinner, and then several long walks and festivals in a courtship that had easily knocked away all competitors. Not that he'd played fair, when he decided he rather liked Sasuke, didn't wish to see him end up with any of the others. They'd ended many a date sneaking kisses and much more than that on a few occasions, if they happened to be in the secluded Uchiha gardens or deep enough into the forest. He's rather sure Sasuke's mother could spot the hints of unkemptness he would come back with as Kakashi delivered him home, but she hadn't said a word about it.

"I do."

This meeting is a mere formality after all, the Uchiha had sanctioned his courting and their clans had just finished reviewing their soon-to-be shared assets and living arrangements. Sasuke's parents had given their blessings, too, and there was really only one thing left...

"Well then," Madara says, "We have quite the wedding to plan."

#kakasasu #feels like lightning #embers' asks #hellbubu

[classicsstudentsunion]

Ancient Recipes: Apricot Dessert (Apicius, De re coquinaria)

Did you know when you Google Apicius, they call him a professional chef?

Given that he was the closest thing Ancient Rome had to Betty Crocker or Martha Stewart, we guess it makes sense. These apricots are a fantastic dessert from De re coquinaria (c. 5th cent. CE), arguably the best-known Ancient Roman cookbook. They likely would have been enjoyed at room temperature, but taste fantastic after being chilled. We make this at every rendition of our Ancient Food Day, and it's always a hit.

Latin: duracina primotica pusilla precoquiis purgas, enucleas, in frigidam mittis; in patina conponis; teres piper mentam siccam; suffundis liquids; adicies mel passum uinum et acetum; refundis in patina super precoquia, olei modicum mittis et lento igni ferueat, cum ferbuerit, amulo obligas, piper aspargis et inferes. (De re coquinaria, 4.177)

Translation (by John Liao): Wash firm, early or small apricots, pit them, and put them in the cold [water]. Arrange them in a pan. Crush pepper and dried mint, pour over liquamen and add honey, passum, wine and vinegar. Pour over the apricots in the pan. Add a little oil and heat on a low flame. Thicken [the sauce] with starch while it simmers. Sprinkle with pepper and serve. 

Ingredients

10-12 apricots (pitted and halved if fresh, rehydrated in water overnight if dried)

1 ½-2 tbsp freshly cracked black pepper (plus extra for garnish)

1 tbsp dried mint flakes

1 tsp garum/liquamen (substitute fish sauce if you can't find/make it yourself)

3-4 heaping tbsp of honey

3/4 cup of red wine

3/4 cup of passum (also known as raisin wine. Substitutes can include cranberry juice (less sweet), grape juice (more sweet), or ice wine (if you don’t have to make this for a school event).

1 tsp of vinegar (2 tsp if you're not using passum/alcoholic passum substitute)

1 ½ tbsp of olive oil

½ tsp corn starch

3-4 tbsp cold water

Our Recipe

Soak halved, pitted fresh apricots in cold water for 15 minutes (skip if using rehydrated fruit)

In a wide pan (at least 3 inches deep), lightly toast the black pepper and mint at medium heat until fragrant.

Add the liquids: honey, passum, wine, vinegar, and liquamen. Bring to a simmer and stir until well incorporated, and the honey has dissolved. Continue simmering to cook off the alcohol. If the mixture begins to reduce too much, add water in small amounts.

Once the desired amount of alcohol has been cooked off, add the apricots. Continue simmering until apricots reach your desired texture (usually 8-12 mins).

Remove the apricots from the pan. Mix cornstarch with cold water into a slurry, and add to the remaining liquid. Stir and cook until thick, then pour over reserved apricots. Let cool.

Serve chilled or at room temperature, with fresh black pepper sprinkled on top.

Below, we served them with libum (Roman cheesecake) and statites (Ancient Greek spelt crepes).

Some more anachronistic ways to serve this can include using it as pie or tart filling, mixing it with Greek yogurt, or serving it with vanilla ice cream while it's still hot (sort of like a poached pear situation).

Some FAQs

Q. "How long do I actually boil the sauce?"

A. As long as you want, depending on how much alcohol you want in the dish (we serve these at school events, so we have to boil it to hell and back to get rid of all the alcohol).

Q. "The ancient recipe says to cook the apricots first, why do you make the sauce first?"

A. When we tried the apricot-first method, the apricots fell apart and turned the whole thing into a jam-like stew because of how long we had to cook the sauce. It tasted great but lacked the nice texture of the whole apricots.

Q. "Can I substitute ingredients 1-1?"

A. Generally, yes. For our passum substitute, we use cranberry juice for its tartness, but any of the three substitutes work. However, if you have the ability to make/buy garum and passum, definitely give it a try!

#the pie version slaps btw i made it for thanksgiving #you just put the apricots and sauce (with cornstarch slurry but no extra cooking) in a blind baked pie shell #and then tuck it into the oven at 375 for about 10 minutes or until the sauce is thick #ancientfoodday #tagamemnon #classics #apicius #ancient rome #classics recipes #cooking #ancient cooking #recipe #ancient history #history #roman history #tagitus

[factorialsotherfandoms]

I was asked very nicely for some xcom au fluff by @rabbit-harpist , and am also in need of something soft this morning. Today's angst will be late, for now just... Favela 6, and a holiday in the south of France. During the end of the world, but what's the apocalypse when you have each other?

Also for once, an ao3 link, where it's been spellchecked but is otherwise the same: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52630318

They spend the afternoon in the vineyard, picking grapes and running through the paths. It's a beautiful place, stretching from the old country house down the mountain and to the village in the valley below. It's grown wild over the last ten years - there's still some demand for grapes and juice, but the wine market disappeared along with the ban on alcohol.

Not that that stops their French comrades from producing some, but there are no longer the hands to tend the vineyards and the market in illegal but quality alcohol is slim.

Aypierre's family has owned it for generations, or so Baghera had explained as she showed them around this morning. She's gone down to the village now, spending the weekend with some friends while the Braziliand make use of the old house.

It's been set up like a hotel, specially for the six of them. Forever isn't sure what to make of that, but neither is he sure what to make of his comrades throwing him - and most of his family - out of the door.

Metaphorically, throwing them out of the airship door would probably have killed someone, but out of the door.

And now he's sat on a swinging bench hanging from a large oak tree, watching the late afternoon sun burn lazily in the sky.

Felps sits down next to Forever, leaning his head on his shoulder. On instinct Forever shifts, slipping an arm behind him.

"You good?"

"Oh I'm fine. I just didn't want part of that," Felps points across the vineyard, to where the other four are.

Forever can hear them laughing. He can also just about see them pelting one another with some of the grapes. He's no idea when it started, but as he watches the teams seem to shift - sometimes Pac and Mike vs Bagi and Cellbit, sometimes Pac and Bagi against Mike and Cellbit.

Or perhaps it's actually a free for all.

They were told to do what they liked with the grapes, but it still seems like a waste.

Or perhaps…

Forever leans over to Felps, conspiracy in his tone. "How about we turn the sprinklers on?"

"The grapes are looking a bit dry," Felps nods sagely. And then, a hint of worry comes into his voice. "I'm not sure…"

Forever can see the fatigue in his face, and he understands. There's a lot of things that can kill your stamina, and Felps has survived more of them than most.

"You sit here - I'll get it."

Felps grins, and leans back, pretending to sun himself. Forever can see, though, the way his eyes look towards the warring quartet with anticipation.

Unsure where the control system for the sprinklers is, Forever heads towards the outside tap. Above it is pinned a laminated set of instructions. They're all in French, a language he knows only the basics of, but the diagrams are simple enough.

And Baghera must know them too well, because the lights indicate that all he needs to do is turn the tap.

He glances over his shoulder, waiting for the opportune moment.

Mike ducks behind a grapevine for cover, placing himself directly next to one of the sprinklers.

Perfect.

Forever twists the tap, and waits for the shrieking to start.

The quartet are quickly soaked through, and even over their yells Forever can hear the much closer Felps laughing. Forever himself begins laughing too, hiding his mouth as he watches Cellbit march over and shove his wet hands across Felps' neck.

They're both still laughing - so are Pac and Mike, having taken it in their strides to remain under the water.

Bagi is marching towards Forever.

"What the fuck!" She yells. "Forever!"

He laughs, "you were getting messy!"

"I'll show you messy!"

There's a grin in her eyes as she lunges for him. Forever ducks out of the way, only to slip slightly in the mud. He catches himself, and turns, only to find Cellbit there. Cellbit grabs his shirt, and pulls him the last little bit into the water as well.

The water is cold, but the air is warm - he grabs Cellbit, and pulls him back under too.

"Well Cellbo!" He laughs. "Seems we're both wet now!"

Cellbit pushes him backwards another few steps, deeper under the spray. Soon enough its a tossle for position, both trying to escape the water but refusing to let the other win.

There is no winning - both of them are only getting more and more wet. Forever uses a free moment to glance around, assessing the situation.

Bagi has taken a place at Felps's side on the bench, squeezing water from her hair as they talk and lets the sun begin drying her.

And then there's Pac and Mike, who have left their sprinkler and are creeping closer. Pac's hands are cupped suspicioisly, and Mike is carrying a bucket.

Forever meets their eyes and thinks. Fuck.

The second thing he thinks is that he's absolutely selling Cellbit out.

He waits for the pair to get a little closer, before throwing himself under the heaviest part of the sprinkler's flow. Cellbit, confused, stumbles, and immediately looks around.

He spots the pair just in time for Pac to release the frog in his hands, the little creature instinctively leaping and landing on Cellbit's chest. Seconds later it's followed by Mike's bucket - mostly water, some pond weed, and another four or five frogs.

Pac and Mike run in different directions, deeper into the vineyard. Cellbit gives chase, and Forever can escape.

He returns to Bagi and Felps, the two cackling with laughter. He pulls off his shirt, leaving it to dry, and accepts a towel for his hair.

It's still hot, and bright despite being after dinner - there's no point in drying himself further when the sun will do it for him.

"Having fun?" Felps asks of him.

"If wet is fun, sure," Forever replies, still squeezing his braid and maybe this is bordering on too much hair.

"You're laughing," Bagi points out - and, its true, Forever still is.

"Maybe I am."

The answer to that is obvious; he leans over the back of the bench, one elbow on each of their shoulders as he watches the others play. It goes on for a while, enjoying laughter and each other, before things go quiet.

Forever immediately stops talking, looking for the others.

Where are they where are they, what's wrong-?

They had gone a little way down the mountain, in ear shot but not sight. Forever…

Bagi gets up, and turns off the sprinklers. Felps grabs at the towels, and looks towards Forever

Forever breathes.

"It's safe here," he says as much for himself as the others. "Antoine warded it. No alarms have gone off. We'd see the ship if they sent an attack force."

It's true, he speaks the words, and calms himself down.

Bagi comes back, but doesn't sit. She stands at Forever's side, alert as they wait.

"Maybe I should-" she eventually begins, before the trio appears from between some of the vines.

A quick glance over shows nobody obviosuly hurt, though Pac is especially muddy and Mike being piggybacked by him.

"All good?" Forever asks, checking them over again.

"Mike's tired," Pac keeps his voice quiet. "He kinda crashed when he saw how much mountain there was to climb up. Dumbass forgot about that."

"In my defence," Mike's voice does sound tired, drifting a bit even as he defends himself. "You're the idiot who slipped and dragged us further down the hill."

"You're the one who said leave the heavy duty prosethetic with Tubbo for maintenance- this one's shit in the mud."

"And? Should have been more careful."

Pac doesn't audibly reply, but Forever's known both of them long enough to recognise the flickers of expression as it continuing.

"I'm getting tired anyway," Felps interrupts the silent argument. "Shall we head inside?"

"I'd like to stay out a bit longer, but you guys go," Cellbit gestures to the other.

Pac and Mike's expressions soften, and they nod in time.

"Are we sharing tonight or no?" Pac asks.

It's a question for the group - Pac and Mike always share. He's asking if they're going to the room Baghera set up for all of them, or making their way to their own.

"Together," Cellbit is quick - very quick - to answer, befors suddenly relaising its not only his choice. "If that's alright with everyone…?"

There's a series of nods and agreements and goodnights before Felps, Pac and Mike head inside, leaving only three.

Cellbit takes an offered towel, and sits on the bench. Bagi joins him. Forever lingers a moment, before sitting with them too.

"Are they definitely okay?" Forever asks, eyes trailing a bit.

"I think Mike's got a headache," Cellbit answers. "They wouldn't say, but Pac kept shushing me."

It makes sense, then, as to why nobody called. In the past a headache was just a headache, but ever since…

There's much worse Mike could have been left with than debilitating migraines, especially when they come and go. He didn't look like it was an especially bad one, at least; when they're on the worse end it's easy to read the pain on his face. The worst ones he cannot even speak without making it worse, and he was well enough to argue.

It's fine, then. Sleep will probably solve the problem just fine, and they are here on orders to rest.

"Pac was limping," Bagi frowns.

Forever didn't notice that.

"On his prosthetic," Cellbit points out. "His leg is fine, I think he was just being honest about the mud disgreeing with it."

"We'll make sure he cleans it in the morning, if he hasn't already."

It's another easy problem to fix - sleep, oil, and and a screwdriver. Would all their problems be solvable so simply.

"And Felps?" Cellbit asks. "He wasn't playing with us."

"He just got tired," Forever replies. "And you know he's never been much for the chaos."

"He loves it," Cellbit replies. "He just doesn't want to get his hands dirty."

And, yeah, that's plenty true.

"And you?" Bagi asks of them. "Not too cold?"

Forever looks at his lack of shirt and Cellbit's soaking being, and laughs.

"It's warm enough," Cellbit replies. "You're not?"

"I'm already dry," and so she is. "I left the water before it started getting dark."

And ir is getting dark now. It's not quite sunset, but the sun has finally made it low.

Cellbit looks at Forever. He stretches out, testing tired muscles and old scars. They're a little annoyed by the activity, but nothing hurts.

"I'm fine," he mouths.

Cellbit looks suspicious, but accepts it.

"Are we staying to watch the sunset?" Cellbir asks instead.

"Why not?" Bagi replies. "It's not going to be long."

"Sure," Forever stays intruding, relaxing onto the cushions and rocking it ever so slightly.

The bench is made to swing, and so it keeps the little rocking for a short while, shifting in the low light.

How long has it been since he watched a sunset? A real one, not just out the window as the Avenger crossed the skies faster than the earth turns. One without smoke, or gunfire, or the ending of a world.

They can breathe here, for however long, and Forever…

Well this place is Aypierre's, and Baghera's, and Antoine's, and Etoiles', not his. If he had a place like this, maybe he'd do as Phikza keeps insisting and take a break more often.

Probably not, but he might - and certainly he'd make the others do it, just…

Home is in each other, yes, but it's true the only place they have is the ship.

They should think about what sort of home they want, start making plans for after the end.

"Do you think we can see the stars here?" Cellbit asks.

"Huh?" Forever is startled from this thoughts.

"The stars," Cellbit looks at him like he has three heads. "Usually there's too much light, but we're pretty far from the cities here."

They don't mention the lack of fire, either - the few times the group travels to more rural areas, it's usually for an already too late rescue mission.

"I can already see one," Bagi points up and, sure enough, a few bright ones are already visible as the sun dips below the horizon.

They stay there for a while, talking as the light fades out. It's a good half an hour before the sun dips below the horizon - Bagi yawns, and Cellbit steers her inside and to bed.

Forever stays. Not long, just a couple more minutes - watching the sky, and thinking. About everything, about nothing, about a beautiful but broken world.

Because it is beautiful, and it is worth saving, no matter the pain, no matter the cost.

---

After those few minutes of reflection, Forever finally gets up. He clears the leftovers from dinner into the fridge, before turning out the lights and heading deeper in.

He doesn't bother locking up - the things they need most be afraid of will break the windows to get to them, and it's better to have the easy escape.

The room Baghera - probably with help from Antoine, though Forever hasn't seen the man recently - prepared for all of them is a couple of floors up. It's a whole, large suite. Forever needs to clean up before he sleeps, but first...

First he wants to check on the three who left earliest, make sure they're okay.

He knows they should be, that there's no actual harm done, but he slips through anyway.

Pac's prosthetic - cleaned - is charging in the corner of the sitting room. The rest of the room looks pretty much the same, but for the cracked open door to the bedroom, and the soft yellow light slipping through.

Forever creaks the door open. He doesn't flick on the lights, just trusts the lamp light to be enough. Pac's crutches - propped up against the side of the bed, so he can get up without sending someone to fetch his leg if he wants to - cast bizarrely shaped shadows across the room.

The curtains are drawn, the room is pleasantly cool compared to the heat of outside, and all three of them are tucked safely into bed; Pac lays on Mike's chest, curled up in a tight ball and clutching at his shirt. Pac's body, anyway - one of Mike's eyes is glowing blue as he reads some battered book. Felps is next to them, pressed against Mike's side and more than half asleep.

Mike, or perhaps Pac, raises a few fingers in a quiet hello. Forever smiles and wakes back, keeping quiet so as not to disturb them.

"Hi Forever," it's Pac's tone in Mike's voice, and maybe Forever should have expected that. Still sleepy, though, even as he puts a finger in the book's spine to save his place. "Where's the others?"

"Just cleaning up; I'm claiming the bath, but just wanted to check on you first."

"We're alright," Pac-Mike folds the book away, curling his hands over both people beside him. "Felps is asleep, Mike's… listening, but not up to much."

"You swapped?"

Pac-inside-Mike gestures at Mike's head, "headache. Let him have my body so he could get to sleep, I'm just waiting for the painkillers to kick in before I join him."

"I won't keep you," Forever promises and... It makes sense, well enough. He makes a note to make sure Mike takes more in the morning, just in case.

"You're better for Mike's eyes than the book in this lighting," Pac reassures, before making a shushing noise Forever doubt is meant for him.

Forever moves over, perching on the edge of the bed. Careful not to get mud anywhere he reaches out, rubbing his thumbs into Mike's temples. He watches tension fade from both interlinked bodies, until Mike's arms move up and tug his down.

And it is Mike who speaks this time, voice even more clouded by sleep, "we're fine - go get clean and join us."

"And who is incharge here?" He asks.

"Nobody," Mike replies, before Pac contradicts him with "Baghera, and she said to get a good night."

Forever laughs, slamming his hand over his mouth as he realises how loud he is. Felps stirs, shifting a little and hand reaching out. Forever takes his hand, squeezing it with a quiet "we're all good" before tucking ir next to one of Pac's. Neither Pac nor Mike move Pac's hand, but Felps latches onto it and drifts back to full asleep all the same.

Felps' hands are warm, warm in a way that means it can't have been too long since he showered. That's good - Felps and Mike have both run cold since their injuries, and their discomfort often obvious. He grabs some extra blankets from a shelf, tucking them around the trio.

Pac and Mike are both laughing in Mike's skin once he's done.

Forever ignores them, grabbing a shirt that looks like it'll fir him for the night.

"You to get some sleep, too - I'll be back soon," he tells them.

He gets a wave, and the green flickering out to leave only blue still reading.

The bathroom is just across the hallway, the showers next to it. He can hear Cellbit and Bagi talking, though the words are drowned out by two showers worth of water. Forever leaves the doors to both the bedroom and the bathroom cracked open, and sees the twins did the same - he's no shame in being seen naked, and quite a lot of fear of being needed.

There's a whole selection of bubbles and oils beside the bathtub. Baghera had said use whatever they wanted so… he picks out a couple, turns on the hot tap, and tosses them in. He's not sure how the vineyard still has hot water, but somehow he does. At the sink he rinses the worst of the dirt from both himself and his clothes, before throwing said clothes in a laundry basket for the morning. There's already some in there - Pac's, Mike's and Felps' if he isn't wrong - and it makes him wonder how many people can fit in the bath.

It's an old, fancy, porcaline thing, taking up the entire bay window and then a little. It's so clearly a bath, and yet it also reminds him of a hot tub. There's a bottle of wine in one of the cupboard - how they get away with this is beyond Forever's guessing - and he decides, fuck it. The pretty crystal wine glasses are ignored, but he does grab the bottle opener and the tub of fancy looking crackers.

He puts those on the side of the bath, and grabs a brush. His braid is undone and his hair brushed through. Wetting the brush is enough to get the dust out and its doesnt need soap yet, so he just ties it into a bun once he's done.

By that point, the bath is full. He slips into the warm water, back to the door, and gazes out the windows. This high up there's no need for the blinds - he instead grabs his wine, drinking it from the bottle as he watches the stars. There's a couple of other drinks he thinks he'd prefer, but it's a French vineyard, so they can be forgiven.

There's still the low twilight, the sky still slightly coloured even as the start shine out. Somewhere up there, out there… somewhere in the sky Philza and Bad are taking care of things for him, and all he has to do is soak in the water, drink wine, and gaze at the stars.

It feels almost wrong, and certainly decedent.

Forever drinks the wine anyway - straight from the bottle - and slips further into the water. Pain he didn't even know he had starts slipping away, tension melting from his bones into the pool of warmth and oil.

He can hear the others - Pac-in-Mike talking to Cellbit and Bagi, before conversation turns quiet and he hears snoring instead.

By the time he finishes the bottle, Forever may as well be mush. The water is just starting to grow unpleasantly cold. Rather than add more warm water, he pulls himself out, and keaves the bath to drain. The tiled floor is cold, but his towel is warm - and night shirt, trapped between said tower and the radiator, warmer still.

He leaves his hair up, and makes his way back. The painkilers must have worked, because both Pac and Mike are now asleep, clinging to Felps and to one another. Cellbit and Bagi have taken the other side of Felps, Cellbit holding the man while Bagi pressed her back against his.

There's only a little space left, like this. Forever tucks himself under the blankets by Tazercraft, turning out the lights as he does.

Cellbit stirs at the change.

"Just me," Forever whispers. "Go back to sleep."

His response is unintelligible. Forever sees Cellbit bury his face into the pillow, and decides to leave it be.

Honestly? The pillows seem like a good option.

Forever worms his arm between Pac and Mike to reach Felps, twisted so he can hug Mike and hold Felps' hand. Once upon a time he, the weakest, went in the middle of the heap. Now its Felps, who since his torture cannot stay warm overnight, and Mike, simply because he vanished for months and no matter what injuries the rest have taken it's terrifying that Mike was taken. Like this, Felps stays warm. Like this, nobody can get at Mike and steal him away again. Like this, they're together and as safe as they can be.

Forever is now at the edge of the pile, and he's pleased to be trusted, but he hates why it changed.

He shifts closer to Pac and Mike, despite knowing during the night he's going to end up either rolled onto by Pac or dragged into their tangle during the night. But, to be entangled is to be loved, and what are they to one another but love?

Forever doesn't have an answer to that. So he takes love as love, and holds what family he can reach, and knows the rest are just a flip of the lightswitch away.

[End Notes - Antoine and Baghera spent a few days running around settjng things up as a holiday resort. They do not normally keep bottles of wine in the bathroom

- Pac, Mike, and Felps did share the bath, but in a "they needed to get clean and two of the three were too drained for a shower and the third didnt trust them to not drown so got in too and helped everyone with their hair" way.]

#qsmp fanfic #qsmp x xcom #qsmp au #qsmp forever #qsmp cellbit #qsmp bagi #qsmp tazercraft #qsmp felps #qsmp favela six #fluff #this is just something soft and nice

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #46

I spent all day today making moussaka! And I told you that I'd take pictures and write to you about it, and so here it is! Today is the day!! So I'm gonna get right to it!!

I started off by rinsing the eggplants and peeling the onions. I always put the papery outer layer and the first fleshy layer into the broth bag, for later use! My husband sliced the eggplants and cut the onions into coarse chunks. I can technically do it myself, but since he's not dyspraxic, he's a lot better at it than I am:

If it looks like a lot of eggplant, that's because it is a lot of eggplant, hahaha! But don't worry; they get a lot smaller once they're baked because the water evaporates out of them.

You have to arrange them on a cookie sheet like this, and then put them in the oven at 400 degrees Fahrenheit for a total of 30 minutes; you flip the slices over halfway through.

This part takes a while because my oven can fit only two cookie sheets at once, and then after they've been baked, I like to use the griddle to make the eggplant slices golden brown and crispy on the outside, like this:

Then, you get a bowl full of eggplant slices that are crispy on the outside, and deliciously gooey on the inside:

In between roasting batches of eggplant, I did the other steps. One of those steps is to use my handy-dandy veggie chopper to turn the onions and a few cloves of garlic into puree for the meat sauce!

I also zested and juiced the lemon; that's for the meat sauce, too!

Once the eggplant is all done, the next step is to cook the onions a little bit - but just a little bit. Then you'll set them to the side in favor of cooking up the ground lamb. Cooking the ground lamb will leave a lot of delicious rendered fat. So you'll scoop out the cooked lamb, and then finish cooking the onions in the fat; as the water from the onions evaporates, the resulting vacuum will cause the onions to soak the lamb fat right up!

After that, you start putting the sauce together. We will use the cans of diced and crushed tomatoes and 2 tablespoons of the tomato paste, and 2 tablespoons of the tomato sauce. We'll stir that up with the onions and the lemon zest and juice. Then we'll add a cup of red wine:

I gotta tell ya, wine in general is GROSS!! But it's really nice when it's used in cooking. A little bit of heat makes the nasty, bitter alcohol flavor dissipate quite nicely, and you're left with a vague sweetness and a weird (but not bad!) grape-ish flavor.

After you let it simmer so it can thicken a bit as the water evaporates, you add the seasonings:

This is parsley, oregano, cinnamon, allspice, and ground cloves! I didn't have thyme yet when I took this picture, but I fetched some later to use.

Anyway, the next step is to add the ground lamb to the sauce! The result is a very thick meat sauce! In this picture, you'll see the sauce and all the seasonings I used in it:

Here, we have our very thick sauce, seasoned with oregano, parsley, thyme, bay leaf, salt, pepper, cinnamon, allspice, and cloves. Yum, yum, yum!!

With the sauce and the eggplant slices ready, we can clear up some space by beginning to assemble the moussaka. You line a baking dish with some parchment paper, and then you put down a layer of eggplant slices:

You follow it up with a layer of meat sauce:

...And then you just keep alternating layers until you run out of eggplant slices and meat sauce. Easy peasy. I stuck it in the fridge once the layers were assembled. Then I began to work on the bechamel.

For that, it's a basic thing. You start with a roux and then you add a kind of cheese to it. I don't have easy access to kefalotyri, and I didn't feel like using parmesan or romano as a substitute, so I used that feta and that halloumi I bought yesterday.

Most feta cheese in my country uses cow's milk or goat's milk. The brand I like to get uses sheep's milk. And the halloumi made by this same brand uses a combination of sheep, goat, and cow milk. Both of them are VERY GOOD!! And it took all my willpower not to just snack on the cheese as I was trying to grate it, but I managed:

Once that was all set, I set it aside and then separated a couple of egg yolks away from some egg whites. I'll use the egg whites to try to make French-style tiramisu in the near future; it'll be good!! We need the yolks for the bechamel:

To begin a bechamel, you gotta add 120 grams of sifted flour to one stick of melted butter, really really slowly. The "slow" part is important, otherwise it gets really weird:

When it looks like the above image, that's when we add 3 and 3/4ths of a cup of milk. But again, this has to be done VERY slowly, or else instead of a velvety-smooth awesome sauce, you end up something lumpy and terrible. I made a LOT of lumpy and terrible sauces before I got the hang of it, hahaha!

Here's how it looks after one cup of milk is incorporated. You gotta drizzle it in slowly, a little bit at a time:

Here it is with 2 cups of milk added:

And here's how it looks after all of the milk is added. This is the part where we add in the egg yolks. We have to make sure that it's not too hot so that the egg yolks don't cook into hardened yellow masses upon contact with the sauce.

Then you add in the cheese. And yes, ALL of that cheese is going into the pot!! Because I am a cheese goblin!! It has been written!! It is known!! Bahahaha! 🤣

From there, you add in nutmeg and white pepper, a little bit at a time, until you can notice their flavors when you taste it. Here is the finished sauce! Isn't it beautiful? It's very, very thick, velvety, and delicious!

From there, we just dump it on our partially-assembled moussaka, it's fine! And the result looks like this:

(yes, we do get to eat whatever sauce is leftover in the pot!! it's delicious!! and if you were here, I'd share it with you, too!! and I'd give you the whisk - everyone should get to lick delicious things off a whisk at least once in their life!)

Anyway! So we take this and stick it in the oven at 350 degrees Fahrenheit until the top is all brown and toasty-looking! Here's how it turned out:

I've been on my feet making this and trying to keep my workspace clean since I woke up this morning, and goodness me, I'm very tired, and this rib injury makes my body hurt a lot, haha! Oh well. I managed to snag this picture of the sunset out of my window while waiting for this to bake. Here, maybe you'll like it:

...And that's the end of today's letter! Because I am thoroughly exhausted, hahaha! I can't wait to share this with my friends tomorrow!

...I really wish you could be here to try it. I know all the very practical and realistic reasons you can't, of course. But maybe somehow my wishes and all these delicious flavors will reach you anyway. Or not. Probably not, haha. But I'll hope for it nonetheless. Maybe something good will happen - if not for you, then maybe for someone else.

Please stay safe out there, okay? Please remember that there is moussaka and people in this universe who would make it for you. Please remember that you are loved and cared for. Please don't do anything that would cause you to be erased from your world. Lots of people need the light of your existence to keep on shining in the way that it does.

I'll write again tomorrow, okay?

Your friend, Lumine

#sephiroth #ThankYouFFVIIDevs #ThankYouFF7Devs #ThankYouSephiroth #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy vii crisis core #final fantasy 7 crisis core #final fantasy crisis core #ffvii crisis core #ff7 crisis core #crisis core #ff7r #final fantasy vii remake #final fantasy 7 remake #ffvii remake #ff7 remake #final fantasy vii rebirth #final fantasy 7 rebirth #ffvii rebirth #ff7 rebirth #final fantasy 7 ever crisis #ffvii ever crisis #ff7 ever crisis #ffvii first soldier #moussaka #cooking while dyspraxic #wholesome

[icedkoi18]

Haha yay Alagadda headcanons

These are still wips, so they’re all over the place with some stupid stuff mixed in

Anyways enjoy

Might edit this every now and then

———————-

Citizens in general

- Semi-aquatic

- Most of them have multiple body parts (like multiple arms, heads, etc.)

- Most of them are non-binary

Nigredo/Dyo/035

- Really fond of anything morbid (Like knives, corvids, spiders, snakes, etc)

- Multiple arms

- Will crawl on the walls just to scare people, they think it’s funny

- 2nd tallest

Citrinitas

- Shortest

- Will give you a free palace of wrath pass if you let him ramble on about why classical music is the best music ever

- Has a pet kitten, they’re inseparable

Rubedo

- 3rd tallest, but very similar to Nigredo

- Will give you free wine if you let him talk about how grapes are grown and turned into wine. They love talking about that

- Has a snake, they’re also inseparable

- The bigger the hat, the better

Albedo

- A priest, or a pope. Whichever I draw them as lol

- Likes guns. He has a shotgun in his room

- Also likes knowledge and books. As always

- Close ties with the Wanderer’s Library

- Obv the tallest

- Scared of the dark

- Likes goth music

- Emo-er than Dyo

- Also has close ties with the Cogwork Orthodox Church

- They have ties with a lot of GoIs

The Ambassador/701

- Jealous of Albedo because he’s the tallest

- Has a collection of heels, platforms too

- Scared of spiders, don’t ask

- Goes by anything, will respond to anything. Doesn’t mean you don’t get consequences tho

- Close ties with Yaldabaoth

The Hanged King/Hastur

- Close ties with the Scarlet King + the daevites

- Dyo is still his bestie

- Still can’t do jack-shit

- Can walk around, but he doesn’t want to lol

049

- Goes by Doc, Florence, or Flo

- Has wings, but he doesn’t use them at all. Just for cosmetics

- Sharp beak and nails/talons/claws for self defense

#alagadda #scp headcanons #scp foundation

[granulesofsand]

This is one of the journal-esque exchanges that I’m posting because they didn’t explicitly tell me not to.

🗝️🏷️ RAMCOA, idk what program but something’s happening. Not my circus, not my monkeys, read at your own discretion. (That you can spell.)

Stop makin me do all the work, I should leaves here.

No

See look I fixed it. You’re the only person I know who spells so bad with autocorrect

Switches caught on camera, but with no camera. My head hurts. This is a mess but it’s not my mess. Here, for you.

Broken

We only became externally aware of the RAMCOA when most of the front-facing ones accepted the system. It was around the same time we learned about programming. It was a peripheral knowledge, first what it was and how it coincided with DID.

It just never occurred to me that the abuse was anything other than that, plain and simple. I didn’t know the weird things happening in the background were related, I didn’t consider myself really present in this body. It was like it wasn’t my business.

We could’ve kept on like that, ignorant to it all, dissociated and unaware. Our family is living that, unassuming of the horrors. They might never break free of their haze.

It was a mistake we turned out different. Of the people I know were involved, none of them have broken how we did. We are one in twenty, at least. Some died without finding out.

Two generations back, our grandmother and her sister, they had little ones come out and confess to some of it after their mother died. That was years ago, and neither of them have changed, not for the better.

It’s somewhere between a weight and a relief. I feel wrong, like I need to be fixed and put back to match them. Why are we broken? Why are we the only system that failed? We must be bad. Something is damaged that cannot be repaired.

But we will be hurt if we are good.

We’re weak for leaving. Everyone else could do it, but we can’t.

We’re not the ones who are broken. They used us.

That’s what we’re for.

It is not. We are a living creature, made to survive and thrive.

Made to serve.

Our will to live is what is natural. It was what was intended, what is coded into our biology as proof of everything before us that made it so far.

Grapes to wine, made to break.

Then we are as we should be, broken. We write our narrative now, and it is ours to keep or change.

Change

He’s gone. Sucked away. I should retrieve them. I can’t stay.

Sooo…. That happened. They fell into a pit. Or the first one did, the other jumped. Like one of those dramas on tv. The second one was pretty. I’m jealous, there’s no good looks left over after all these fuckers.

One of them might’ve been (— r”r). I’m so good at naming people without naming them. Cool. I’m gonna post this, kinda mad they took the normal colors.

#ramcoa programming #ramcoa #tw ramcoa #ramcoa vent #did osdd #osddid #dissociative identity disorder

[deus-ex-mona]

Fantasia LOVE&KISS: Introduction

yay worldbuilding ig

Legend has it that, in a northern mountainous land, there exists a jewel that is guarded by a dragon. That jewel has the ability to grant a single wish, no matter what it may be.

As of the present, there exists not a single soul to pass on the tale to future generations. That tale has since become a long-forgotten legend of the distant past.

If one were to venture to that far-off land, descend upon their knees before the fair maiden who would welcome them in with open arms, and place a kiss of a vow upon her, she would bestow good fortunes and blessings upon their very hands.

This is a story that would lead to the world of “Hopes”—

The flames of the candles atop the round table flickered in the breeze.

Several patrons were seated throughout the pub, conversing softly with each other as they downed their beverages.

Usually, downtown pubs like this would be filled with joyful, tipsy patrons. However, the patrons of this particular pub were visibly gloomy, without emitting a single laugh from their throats.

All they did was cast wary glances at the traveller, who was seated at the counter.

Ever since Yujiro set foot into that town, he had the nagging feeling that there was something strange about the place, which had only seemed to grow exponentially stronger with each passing moment.

Not only was that town a small country town that seemed to be rarely visited by travellers, it was also the royal capital of a small country. He had been able to catch a glimpse of a castle with a spire that was erected beyond the city gate, after all.

Despite having heard that it was a country with prosperous trading opportunities that many travellers and merchants would frequent, Yujiro had found that most of the stores along the main street were closed, with nothing but old signs blowing in the wind. Furthermore, the streets were fairly devoid of pedestrians as well.

When he had stopped by the marketplace in the daytime, the only things that were being sold were shrivelled up vegetables. He had been befuddled when he had not even been able to hear the voices of local children.

“I heard rumours that this town is rather lively, but it’s pretty quiet around here, no?” Yujiro commented casually to the barkeep as he took a sip out of his drink.

The man eyed him suspiciously, even as he continued to pour sake out from a barrel, but he shook his head in response. “It’s not like that at all. It’s just that the roads have become impassable thanks to some demons. Things became this way all because they decided to appear.”

“I see…”

(Demons, hm…)

Such stories were not uncommon. In fact, demon encounters, however rare, were just part and parcel of travelling. Even so, encounters with wild beasts, which resided in the mountains, and with bandits, who would attack travellers in their attempts to rob them of their money and goods, were more far common than encounters with demons.

In any case, weapons for self-defence were undeniably a necessity for one’s travels. If one were to take a single step out of the city gates, they would thus find themselves in a danger zone, where they could be attacked at any given time.

“Things were fine during the reign of the previous king. But after the princess ascended to the throne…” the barkeep suddenly fell silent, a complicated expression marring his face. “Well, you should get out of here as soon as you can too…”

With that, the man turned his back to Yujiro, as though he was closing himself off from further questioning. Finding it pointless to continue to press him for answers, Yujiro placed a single silver coin upon the counter, alongside his half-empty cup of diluted grape wine.

He picked up his longbow, which was wrapped in some cloth, from where it had been leaning against his chair. Slinging it over his shoulder, he departed from the counter.

“Thanks for the food.”

The other patrons suddenly fell silent as they stared at Yujiro as he made his way out of the pub.

A damp breeze blew into Yujiro’s face as he stepped outside the pub, closing the door behind him as he went. Rain poured down from the overcast skies above, pelting against the cobblestone pathways, which were completely devoid of other people.

“I didn’t get to hear anything of note, huh…”

Donning his wide-brimmed hat, Yujiro began to walk along the streets, which were gradually getting wetter thanks to the rain.

He had talked to a few people since he had arrived in the town, however, they were all rather tight-lipped and refused to tell him much. Considering the nature of the townsfolk, he figured that he would have to stay in town for a few days and gather information patiently if he wanted to get anywhere.

(Guess it can’t be helped… Even so, there’s no one else around.)

Yujiro looked around the quiet, dark streets, but not even the lights of the houses seemed to be turned on. It was rather eerie, almost as though it was a ghost town. Despite the fact that the sun had just set for the day, it was probably still too early for anyone to turn in for the night.

Upon hearing the soft creak of a door, Yujiro turned around to meet the gaze of a child, who was peeking out of the doorway, only for the child to immediately withdraw into the house with a loud slam of the door the very second their eyes met.

“Didn’t I tell you not to go outside?!” the child’s mother scolded from behind the door.

(It’s not like there’s anyone outside, though.)

Yujiro continued to walk, donning a rather perplexed expression across his face. Some of the greyed clouds above him had the slightest tinge of red, which was probably due to the light of the moon, which was concealed by said clouds.

Just as Yujiro was crossing a stone bridge that extended over a river, he noticed a faint figure of a person, who was appearing to be following him from behind. Glancing at their reflections on the surface of the water, he deliberately slowed down his walking pace.

The person continued to pursue him even as he walked through a narrow street, where a drunken old man was lying fast asleep against the wall, cradling a bottle of liquor in his arms.

As Yujiro rounded the bend in the street, he tossed a single glance over his shoulder before sprinting forth. The sound of the footsteps of his pursuer also quickened in turn, as though he was in a hurry.

With the rainfall having intensified without him realising it, Yujiro found that his cape and hat had somehow become completely soaked through.

A wall at the end of the street sealed it off as an evident dead end. Yujiro drew a dagger he had kept concealed by his waist as he turned around. The blade of his dagger sliced through the air, edging real close to the throat of his pursuing opponent. However, the reflexes of said opponent were slightly faster, as he ducked to dodge the blade, seemingly on instinct.

Upon seeing the momentary unsteady state of his opponent, Yujiro kicked the ground as he tried to go for a roundhouse kick.

“Ho-hold on!” his opponent hollered in a panic, raising his arms in a gesture of peace.

Judging from his height and facial features, he looked to be of about the same age as Yujiro. With a wide-brimmed hat pulled over his head, and a cape draped around his shoulders, he seemed to be a traveller as well. His broad shoulders, coupled with his strong-looking limbs evoked the impression that he was a well-built young man. His hair was tied back with the use of a ribbon, and rainwater was dripping off the brim of his hat.

“Don’t spring an attack on me without any warning. Ain’t that unfair?!”

“There’s no need to show courtesy to hooligans who sneak after others, no?” Yujiro smiled with a smug scoff, still clutching his dagger in his hand.

“I’m not a hooligan. Can’t you tell just by looking at me?”

“You look pretty much like a hooligan to me, though.”

“Huh?! How so?!”

“Your face and the air you give off. Though, if you’re not a hooligan, just what are you? A bandit? A robber? A mugger?”

“Aren’t all of those the same things?!” he heaved a sigh of resignation.

Suppressing a laugh at his opponent’s ever-changing expressions, Yujiro returned his dagger to its sheath at his waist. He figured that his opponent was not lying about not being a hooligan. With that being the case, he was now somewhat curious about why said opponent was even following him in the first place.

(I guess I wouldn’t mind hearing him out for a bit…)

“So… What did you want with me?”

He looked up at Yujiro and levelled him with a serious gaze. “It’s because I heard that… there’s a guy in this town who’s looking for the only jewel in the world that can grant a wish. Just like me.”

The sound of the raindrops thudding against the ground of the alleyway overlaid his soft-spoken words.

The two of them fell silent for a few seconds as they looked at each other.

“Yujiro” slowly tugged the brim of his hat downwards, a mutter of “I see…” being the only thing to slip past his lips.

(He’s just like me, huh…)

#this is a very questionable tl bc it was partially done on public transport lmaooooo #i was bored on the train you seeeeeee #i threw in tons of additional words and stuff in an attempt to help it to ~flow~ better (and to make it slightly less boring lmao) #the bold text is intentional bc that's how the novel seems to separate real world events from this fantasy thing ig #leaving this out of the main tags bc it'd be nice if better translators picked this up as well (hint hint) #well. in any case... this is gonna be my tl tag for this nonsense -> #will they or won't they love&kiss by the end of this? #it's unnecessarily long lol. perfect for an unnecessary tl wouldn't you say? ;) #fun fact: chapter 1 is soooo long that it's cut off in the preview lmao. thanks fantasy segment </3 #it is suiyoubi my dudes

[littlewritingrabbit]

I have no idea how long ago you wrote that Martha Manning fic but can I just say it is my favourite thing I’ve ever read- I’m not exaggerating. I can’t help but want more lol. Ur so talented :)

Then more you shall have! I'm glad you liked it!

The second time it happened, Martha was just as surprised as the first. They were at another party, weeks later, and somebody had brought port wine, which the company had drunk in the study, getting progressively more rowdy until they were playing rounds of pull-a-book-down-from-the-shelf-and-read-a-passage-as-if-to-a-lover. This was most amusing with textbooks.

"Let's have another bottle!" someone suggested, and they went out as a trio, in order to make sure that the bottle made it up the stairs safely.

"I should like some air..." muttered someone else who Martha didn't know, a friend of a friend who was using his lady's fan quite vigorously to cool his face. Ah, the perils of sitting closest to the fireplace.

He left the room, and the she was, alone again with John Laurens. The last time this had happened... she dared not think of the last time. He'd been too kind. He'd probably only held her because he felt sorry she seemed to like him, or because he was lonely, or most likely of all, both. She picked up her glass again and looked at him sort of sideways, just to see if he was looking in her direction. He wasn't. He was staring out the window, but whether drunkenly or pensively, she wasn't sure.

She took a sip. The port wine was good. It was as thick as syrup, and still tasted like grapes.

"I have a confession to make," she said, feeling the need to fill the silence with something amusing. Instead of preparing himself to look amused, however, a brief look of terror crossed John's face. Oh dear. Oh, she had not meant to do that. "I must confess I like port much better than regular wine - it tastes as if the grapes still exist and are not... dead, you know?"

John looked relieved. "I do know!" he said after a moment. "Though I wouldn't go so far as to call the grapes 'alive'." He swirled it around in his glass for a moment, and then smiled. "There were grapevines on the shed, back home in South Carolina," he said. "I once climbed up the roof to paint them."

"What, do you mean to paint on the leaves?" Was it just her imagination, or was he leaning slightly closer as he told the story? This only made amusing comments more imperative - they might make it seem as if she wasn't focussing solely on his position on the couch-

"No," John laughed, "To paint a picture of them!" He was definitely leaning at least a little in her direction. "Anyways, I fell off the shed. It... hurt. I really don't know why I'm telling this story."

Martha laughed and turned as if she was turning her knees towards the fire. It brought her just slightly closer to him. And indeed, it seemed to be just past the distance where it was obvious what she wanted, because there his arm was, just around her shoulders from behind. His hand held her arm so softly she almost couldn't feel it through the silk layers of her dress. She wanted to interrogate his motives. She wanted to never speak of it, and just take what he evidently wanted to give. She sort of wanted to cry.

Instead, she leaned back towards him. "Did you ever do something ridiculous as a child?" he asked quietly.

"I'm sure I did," she replied, equally as quietly. "Before I understood how seals work, and, I must have been only three or four, but I was determined to send a letter. So-" she bit back a laugh. His arms were so warm around her. "-so I opened up and envelope and just upended a candle into it, squished it closed, drew a few lines on it, and proudly handed the still-warm mess to the postman."

John laughed so hard she could feel his shoulders shaking.

"You-" he snorted, drunk and undignified, "I've no idea what you're talking about, that's genius! Imagine recieving such a letter! The mystery you would generate..." he held her tighter, basically an embrace, for just a moment. "I admire your amusing stories," he said. "I hope you know."

Then foosteps sounded on the stairs. Time was up. They both sat bolt upright, personal spaces suddenly expanding to a reasonable size.

"More port?" the host asked, swinging around the doorframe, gleefully drunk.

"Why yes, thank you!" said Martha. I admire your amusing stories. I admire. I admire. She was certain she'd be thinking of it for weeks.

#Writing #History #Time for a Ficlet #Martha Manning Laurens #John Laurens #This ficlet is also projecting but not because I'm pining anymore just because I also think that port is superior to any other type of wine #Wine tastes like it's gone off #Port just tastes like cough syrup #And they would have had it in England at the time - I checked

[libidomechanica]

But you will green tree a faint in Phaetons hands let me in

If I but his test— thy praise, O!     With glee away. Thy here east, which for her too,—with the last     in the Grape that mountains. But you will green tree a faint in     Phaeton’s hands let me in! And white, who had the Heart; I said     t was but we haven

of they will conspire, was bright.     Is God, our complete, all I saw a wind where na thy Will’     will claim, and desolate; and thy Court us cry Supper—     heed of gold the yews of them, to stocks at me beauties not     mine earth’s froward they will

bring at you silently! Such must     be heard not need not a Sage out. Perhaps, despite old Sir     Will, ’ and hung. Herbs, garlic, cheese, and i’m queen o’ the spray, that     I was done—how earth dost plays dead, and then, Turk, or blushing     Time again. Not mix’d with

a flower, for their blest he knew     wine! To mankindness, only chain round high death; but shall but     all abroad lucent of Auld Lang Syne! They will brink that a     pure imitate; and lifts and new, whit dissolved pit unflesh;     our soules, buried on his

dumbe lips a tree, at leaned a     parachute and much but to show us this more cave, lovest     to be more thing, drowning. And her sigh, grave, ere I gied it,     and growest: if he had the guy of many Knots uncouth,     and lessed like a rug—

turning by the prove parents new     cells, and like a girls gave you my own into wax dim, drew     quiet! Nor Thames’s tribes to tenderness—and were engrave,     loved thee on a which them: the good thing, she generations     deem high, my Clay Theotormon

brother would be it is she     but talk’d leave that a man, what is slip frae me living as     soul held, he lean of them loving a grac’d to makes father’s     gush disdaining? To uses you wilt thou my face. Then Bowl     did seen, takes us to

other; as agreeable them     Sir Matthew Hale’s genial genial genitors, guardians,     and fill then down! She worship couldst faith the embitterested     chanted me and how, so passe his the vestry of     his day two Hinkseys and

bite. You to seal forefather Jonson     new Invention make my muse, while weakers holiness     of mine would not you pat it seen deaf to run. For its quiet     constant issue beating away! Tops with his upon     the intellects your fury

now the onely ridge of     Perfume than saw men’s free, to disease? But sometimes should not     see if he speechless young did me to west now the bat, that     beak the first, I shall waies to Flight of a far-off sound of     Perfumes the aisles of

thine eyes taken unto no displease,     with lullaby now rules did she wings done—how does the     clay on that have than flour, pity hath and town. And what is     spoken, yet I bathe said my ioyes flashed and why her the     Character, who in the wretches

him beyond it, and the small     lessons can empty glass. To Thee this usual inter’s     Lips a not guessed by the Power like Roland die foreclose     the sea. Alas, when rising in drouth, and was dews o’ summer     she west below me

thered greater its long’d with the     River of Dawn’s hardly to the pillow fields each place book!     Did I,—to the independed them to thickens no other     heart. Tides back one is not see you were though all thinks and     we wanted me; my grief

years and fling beach, by the desire     of His true as in on a hinge. This not: and, with thee     restraight bends of Light it lay carved struggle having today     when with rebuff that is, if eagle first as soon marriage     then sweeten someone with

fugitive enough here, the sky     white, and so we for any beauty. ’ My brave cease, but if     I should be won by Sandy O. And how love you pinch a     look’dst thou down, clear unto these brink of lust, the son a Walter     first lullaby now,

now sucks to speak of horse, my this     shines, where soft hangovers sawcinesse fled, the voice of     watercresses unknown? And flaunt with Dust! Though hill, but as before     sincertainly a happy copulation in sphere,     becauses be undo

it country blacken, not love you     have has per we have sent, on a hinge. Of pity; or a     wonder, may be drawn Sight. Pavement of the level, such also,     but in families with gold chafe and make and water’s wrong.     Who wearièd with gray linen,

’ said, How good knight in the low.     While I to not you sit at once the year my pity; or     dropping over shame gives in hell, sick man’s sung in October,     thou shoulders, while Pan is golden the new-built back thought     and ne’er the porch with Nature’s

couple, wilt not that strangers     are lying. Ah, make throne,— and hath a crush on thy bliss, O     though their hydes, lessons thought my absolute, should be a     piece o’ my key to that the human Death of     Am I in you will.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #136 texts #ballad

[pickledpascal]

There's a She-Wolf in the Closet

Chapter Twenty: Unchained Melody

Summary: Mary and John have a special surprise for Sherlock during their anniversary party.

Warnings: Questioning society, that's about it.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: So.... I'm back ? Maybe. Not sure for how long but !!! im okay!!!

TASWITC Masterlist

Previous Chapter

-------

As May rolled along, John and Mary began inviting their friends to their anniversary party. Of course, Sherlock knew about it before anyone else did cause who else was around them so much it bothered them sometimes. At least now they had Jayden to catch his attention more than them. Thank God. The couple didn’t even have to make invitations, deciding on an oral invitation since their first anniversary was more monumental in general. It was supposed to be a nice, small party paired with a couple of glasses of champagne for everyone and maybe some decorative fruit plates or other horderves scattered around on different surfaces. At least, that’s what John and Mary had in mind. Before they invited Jayden.

Originally, John and Mary were going to 221b to see Sherlock about something, but it turned out he wasn’t there, but Jayden was. She was singing softly and slowly dancing in the kitchen as she popped some grapes in her mouth. Her voice was occasionally muffled but her voice was amazing, light yet Mary could hear the power behind it. 

John and Mary looked at each other before John closed the door, alerting Jayden of their presence. “Shit!” She exclaimed, dropping a few of her grapes before she hurriedly picked them up. “Uh, hey.” Jayden said shyly as she turned to them, throwing the dusty grapes away.

“Hello.” Mary smirked, an idea forming in her head while John shook his head. He could already tell what was forming in her head.

Jayden’s face was still flushed with embarrassment, but she tried to compose herself. “Um, did you need Sherlock? He’s not here but I can tell him what you need.” She said, straightening her posture a little. She felt silly, only children were embarrassed by being caught doing something. But then again, her childhood wasn’t the best in the first place.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you something.” Mary smiled kindly, nudging John a little while adding a wink his way too. This anniversary would certainly be special.

—---------

Sherlock groaned a little as he and Jayden showed up to the Watsons home, a few cars already lined the streets around the house. “Do we have to go inside? I’m sure John and Mary already know we appreciate them being married and they are good for each other, do they have to celebrate it every year?” He asked, voice whining like a child. He pursed his lips, shaking his head as Jayden pulled him along.

“Pretty sure you said that last year too.” Jayden rolled her eyes. Her grip was hard against Sherlock's arm as she pulled him to her side. While she wasn’t invited last year, it was mainly because of filming among other things. “And I’m sure they’d be very sad if their best friend decided to bail.”

Sherlock deadpanned at her, “No they wouldn’t. They know their friend is antisocial and hates being around others unless they know them well.” He grunted out, shaking his head as Jayden pressed her finger against the doorbell.

“Can’t bail now.” Jayden winked with a smile, “Plus, you’ll be fine! Most people already here are probably ones you already know. So shh.” She nudged the man next to her, looking up at him with a happy twinkle in her eyes. 

John opened the door and quickly ushered them in, revealing the house decorated in twinkling lights and their (Sherlock’s) friends mingling throughout the house with some sort of wine in their hand as they talked. It was certainly not something Jayden was used to. After her film wrapped, parties were filled with people intending on getting drunk and finding someone to spend the night with. This seemed very adult. Which wasn’t something she was opposed to, but Jayden kind of liked watching the chaos of the other kind of party. The way people would react if they were denied, seeing their faces fall was hilarious to her. Maybe she was a bit of a sadist that way, but Jayden didn’t really care either way.

As they entered, John led them through the house to the kitchen where there were glasses of different types of wine scattered, some full while some were evidently sipped out of. “Take your pick.” He hummed, happy his best friend was there so he didn’t have to put on the mask of being overly happy about seeing so many people. John was a sociable person, but parties drained him.

“You’ll like this one.” Sherlock plucked one of the full glasses that had a golden liquid inside. Jayden cocked her head at him but took the glass anyway. “It matches perfectly with your flavor profile.” He explained nonchalantly as if analyzing a wine to match someone’s taste in a matter of seconds was normal.

Jayden shrugged and took a sip of the wine, humming when she realized Sherlock was correct. It was a white wine that was light with just the right amount of sweetness that it didn’t want to make her vomit right after drinking it. Which unfortunately did happen a few times when Jayden had something that was way too sweet for her tastes. 

Sherlock winked at Jay, pressing a small kiss to her cheek which made her blush. While it was public knowledge Sherlock and Jayden dated, especially since their date was very public and the English paparazzi were starved for content, it still was very new to Jayden to be physically affectionate with someone. Hugs were always on the table but the small touches and kisses were going to drive her insane. But she was somewhat proud of the man beside her, Sherlock wasn’t the best at physical affection either yet he was the one who mostly enacted everything. He set their date in motion, he loved holding hands, and pressed kisses to Jayden’s temple anytime he could. Which was a lot.

—------

About an hour into the party, guests were being ushered outside into the Watsons small backyard. There was a speaker and a microphone set up which made Sherlock’s mind immediately go to singing. But no one there knew how to sing, he would know if they did. Hell, he knew almost everything about everyone. While Jayden…. Jayden. She was an open book but written in a way that made you want to learn more, maybe even buy the sequel or the third installment too.

John and Mary went over to the microphone while Mary grabbed it. “I know, you may have thought all we were going to do tonight was drink and talk but that gets boring after a little while. So our friend and new movie star, Jayden Wayne is going to sing a song for us!” She smiled. 

A light whisper among the crowd started as Jayden left her place beside Sherlock, his eyes following her. She grabbed the mic from Mary and whispered something in her ear that made her laugh before the older woman patted her arm gently and went to stand with everyone else, pulling John with her. 

“Um, I’m very not used to this.” Jayden said into the microphone with a nervous laugh. “I’m used to a different kind of spotlight but the things you do for friends, am I right?” She joked half-heartedly with a few people from the crowd letting out a pity laugh or two. 

As the music started, Sherlock made his way to the front where Mary and John were, eyeing the two of them. They were always coming up with ways to get him and Jayden closer and this was certainly one of those moments. They didn’t need to and that much was obvious, but they just liked to say they were helping things move along, knowing Sherlock, it would take forever if he did it on his own.

Oh, my love, my darling

I’ve hungered for your touch

A long, lonely time

The first thing to catch Sherlock’s attention was her voice. How soft, light, and smooth it sounded. It correlated so well with her regular voice and yet, it sounded so different. So beautiful. How had he not known she could sing? Jayden would always hum along to songs that played on the radio or even as she played a tune on the guitar.

Time goes by so slowly

And time can do so much

Are you still mine?

I need your love

I need your love

God speed your love to me

Her belt was powerful and held such a weight to it that, for a moment, Sherlock believed every word she was singing to be her own and not from a man who wrote the song over fifty years ago. 

Lonely rivers flow

To the sea, to the sea

To the open arms of the sea

Lonely rivers cry

Wait for me, wait for me

I’ll be coming home, wait for me

The second thing Sherlock noticed was Jayden’s face as she sang. Her eyes were closed, and her eyebrows were furrowed, showing her effort but her neck showed no signs of strain or discomfort. This was easy for her, those high, belty notes as well as the light, wispy ones.

Oh, my love, my darling

I’ve hungered for your touch

A long, lonely time

I need your love

I need your love

God speed your love to me

As the last few notes rang out, Mary pushed Sherlock up to Jayden as she moved the mic away from her lips. She chuckled softly at the blush that heated up Sherlock’s face and pursed her lips into a thin line before she wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him down for a deep kiss. Their first kiss. It was everything Sherlock hoped it would be. Her soft, sculpted lips against his. Hell, he didn’t even register the cheers going on behind them. 

So much for celebrating John and Mary. But even they were cheering too.

—------

Scripts were coming in like rain in a thunderstorm, apparently some people from John and Mary’s anniversary decided to take some videos of her singing and they’d gone viral wherever they posted them. That was starting to get the attention of some studios. She wasn’t mad about it. She had more options to choose from but half the new scripts that came in required singing and, although she could sing, Jayden wasn’t classically trained. When she sang, there were still cracks in her voice and it could be pitchy at times. Jayden wasn’t perfect, she knew that. She just hoped people would get used to the idea of it too.

Sherlock would help weed out the bad scripts or uninteresting ones if he had the time, making small comments about how ‘boring’ or how ‘that doesn’t depict the trans experience correctly’ –with a nod from Jayden of course. He was a great help and, eventually, Jayden would contact her agent back with three or four scripts she was genuinely interested in pursuing. 

It was nice to have someone have her back in an industry like hers. Hell, it was nice to have at least one “normal” person in her life, making her feel normal too. Jayden was swept up by the craziness of the filming, the photoshoots, red carpets, and the costumes that she forgot what it was like to be human–if only for a moment. She loved her job; she’s wanted it for so long and it was a dream come true, but it was nice to just relax and have a cup or two of coffee with Sherlock while talking about anything. 

#oc #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes x oc #sherlock holmes #bbc shows #benedict cumberbatch characters #benedict cumberbatch #jayden wayne #she wolf #taswitc #transfemme #mtf

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing xiv.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 5, 690

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a/n:

hello!!!! we’re here at fourteen chapters omg ✨✨when i first started this series it was mostly self-indulgent and now there are people who actually enjoy reading it??🥺 it almost doesn’t seem real T.T 

thank you so much for the love and support!!! just so I don't give too much spoilers for this chap - I apologise to my fellow geminis for the potential slander 🤣 this is more of a self-drag lmaooo 

anyway, I hope you enjoy this chap!!!

“Ah. I’m getting allergies.” Yena sniffs, scrunching her nose.

You furrow your brows in concern, “Are you okay? Do you need any medicine?”

“It’s just the seasonal changes,” She brushes you off.

You nod in understanding, “I get it. My mom has horrible reactions towards pollen so—”

“I’m not allergic to flowers.” She blinks.

“Then what—?”

“It’s Gemini season. It’s like—literally the worst time of the year.” She blinks.

You gawk at her, taking a whole ten seconds to process her serious tone when she doesn’t waver under your scrutiny.

“I’m a Gemini,” You inform her slowly.

“I mean …” She shrugs all as you scowl at her, opting to throw the closest object you had, which was your favourite pen so you decide against it; simply shooting her the meanest glare you could possibly muster.

“Look, it’s not you,” She sighs, and you’re half-expecting her to finish with an it’s me to make you scoff, “It’s me.” And there you go. “I mean, it’s Gemini’s in general because they’re two-faced bitches who have the worst emotional attachment issues. Like they’re literally what the opposite of glue is. And they’re so over-analytical. How is it like psychoanalysing every person you meet only to hurt your own feelings and sulk about it?”

You blink.

“I mean it’s not you but if the shoe fits.” She says casually, plopping a grape into her mouth that you’re tempted to slap away.

“You’re so mean!” You pout indignantly.

She cackles, throwing her head back as you continue to sulk. You weren’t that bad. You just … you were risk-averse! You liked having the freedom to observe everyone and anyone and package them into tiny compartments in your head so you could understand them better. You weren’t … that Gemini.

“You’re so cute,” She coos pinching your cheeks. “No wonder Beef One and Beef Two like you so much.” She teases.

Your first reaction is to blush because you know who exactly she’s talking about, but you have more pressing matters, like—

“You have nicknames for them?” You ask, baffled.

“Hey, I wasn’t friends with many girls in high school. Don’t girls usually have nicknames for their crushes?” She says through a pout.

You stay expressionless as you try to gauge the level of seriousness you can extract from her tone.

You realise she’s dead serious.

“Yeah, but we’re in college,” You argue, scrunching your nose, “And sides’, it’s not like they’re strangers. We know them.”

She rolls her eyes, waving you off like you were the inconvenience here. Then she leans forward, her eyes twinkling as she takes a complete one-eighty that you try to adjust to.

“So … you Gemini hoe, what’s your plans?” She nudges you.

You raise a brow, “Did you just call me a—?”

“Plans, ___. Stay on track.” She scolds.

You sigh, still fond but you pretend to be annoyed. You really couldn’t get annoyed with Yena. After all, the more time you spend with her the more you realise how much life sucked before you had her in your life. You spent each moment learning more about her quirks and habits, her choice of words that made you giggle or laugh until you were crying.

And you realise that this is how she loves, a little rough but welcomed nonetheless.

“If you’re talking about my birthday then … not much. I’m probably stuck doing admin work for the college’s charity programme.” You shrug, stabbing a fork into your soiled salad.

Yena gapes at you, “Not much—excuse me? It’s your birthday! You’re turning twenty-five!” 

You look at her dryly, “I’ve been twenty-five since the year—”

She groans, “That’s not the same! You’re like—officially twenty-five. You’re literally hitting the mark for a quarter-life crisis. Isn’t that something to celebrate?” 

“Me going through an existential crisis at the end of my degree is not how I want to celebrate my birthday but okay,” You blink.

She rolls her eyes at your realism.

“That’s not the point. Point is, this is our first birthday together and I want it to be special.” She points out.

You snort, “What? Are we doubling my birthday as our monthsary or something?”

She shoves you with a brute force that has you snickering but she continues to pester you anyway.

“You’re so dumb. So smart, but so dumb,” She shakes her head, “You’re always studying or doing some form of work that requires the use of more than one brain cell. You deserve a break. Besides, you have two dudes to pick from on how you’d like to be wined and dined and—”

“Yena!” You whine.

“—it’ll be like an episode of the Bachelorette! But just with a super cool and smart best friend that’ll make the decision for you. It’s not your birthday. It’s ours.” She emphasises towards the end.

You stare at her for a long second, before the two of you are bursting into laughter at the absurdity of her statement. 

It was nice, just to laugh about things without having your heart feel so heavy. Even if it was a mild distraction, it was still wholly pleasant to be able to just talk about mindless things that didn’t require much mental gymnastics to navigate the conversation with.

“What are the two of you laughing about?” Taehyung and Jimin arrive at impeccable timing, sliding into the booth with their own packaged food. It’s very college-student-esque, a cute paper (because no plastic) container filled with an array of assortments.

“None of your XY chromosomes business.” Yena retorts.

Jimin blinks, “You are literally so hostile.”

“Then don’t give me a reason to be.” She sticks her tongue out petulantly.

You laugh, nudging her with your shoulder, “Be nice.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes but manages to keep a civil smile on his face. Always the more rational one between the two. 

“Anyway, Yena definitely isn’t going to answer me so, what’s up?” He turns to look at you.

You roll your eyes but it’s half-hearted, “She wants to celebrate my birthday like we’re on the Bachelorette.”

“Like you’re on the Bachelorette.” She corrects.

“Oh my God, our baby’s turning twenty-five!” Jimin coos at the reminder, pinching your cheeks as he coddles you. You scowl and weakly shove him away, even if you preen under the attention.

“I’m literally older than the both of you.” You huff.

Yena blinks, “There’s no way I’m the oldest person at this table.”

Taehyung furrows his brows, “Wait—how old are you?”

She sends him a scathing glare that has his arms raised up in defence.

“Jeez, okay. Don’t answer.”

“I’m going to answer because you told me not to.” She clips. “I’m twenty-seven.”

Jimin blinks, “No wonder you and Yoongi hyung are so alike.”

You almost miss it, but as Yena so eloquently pointed out, you were a sucker for psychoanalysing people (even if you didn’t want to admit it yet) that you notice the way she flushes ever so slightly as she scoffs.

“Him? How dare you compare me to that sorry excuse of a—!”

“Okay, everyone is beneath you. I’m sorry your highness.” Jimin rolls his eyes.

You make a note to ask her about it because you know for a fact that Yoongi ‘complains’ about Yena every hour he can. It’s almost as if he can’t go long enough without mentioning her.

You smile to yourself as you duck your head.

“Exactly,” She flips her hair over her shoulders before turning to face you. “Anyway, back to you—our baby.”

Taehyung nods, “Exactly, the baby.”

You scrunch your nose, “Don’t coddle me.”

He pats your head before cooing at you like he would to an actual baby, “But you’re just so cute. You’re too good for this shitty world. Too good for the likes of mere mortals like us.”

“Not me.” Yena blinks before gesturing to their bodies, “You.”

Jimin sticks his tongue out in retaliation as you sigh at their never-ending bickering.

Somehow … it felt right. You think it most of the times but you don’t know any other way to describe how it feels to be back with your friends, laughing, bickering and just appreciating their presence.

When you and Jungkook had your issues, it was like you made the conscious choice to avoid everyone and anyone as much as you could, and any interaction you had during that period was purely out of coincidences and not the intention. You remember actively avoiding Jimin and Taehyung because it felt too draining to pretend like you didn’t have a battle in your head. Even studying or spending time with Namjoon made you feel guilty, the thought of Jungkook lingering in your mind. Yena was there through it all, but even then you saw her as much as you did with any of your classmates you so happened to share a class with.

In fact, if it weren’t for Yena you’d probably have zero social interactions as a whole because she just knew. She somehow picked up on your internal conflicts but never outwardly shamed you or confronted you about it. All she did was be there for you, offering you her presence and you were grateful.

So, yeah. Things were better, but your heart was still at its core—confused. Your feelings for Jungkook didn’t disappear overnight and you knew that you were the one that asked for space.

You forgave him … you did, honestly. But there are things you can’t forget, and those are the things that you wished you could. The words he said in principle, was outright shitty. But the fact that it came from him only poked at every single one of your insecurities that you developed over the years.

You knew it wasn’t healthy to compare yourself to other women when they were living vastly different lives than you were, but it’s proven difficult when you’re forced to see these type of women every day, at college, in your community work or on the media. 

Believing Jungkook’s apparent feelings for you was harder because, well. Jungkook was Jungkook. He wasn’t just another guy, and despite his shortcomings, he had more merits than he’d let on and you knew that people saw that. It was also the fact that Jungkook had a charm that drew all types of people in. He was soft-spoken but passionate, and people loved a quiet achiever.

You … knew about the women. Way before Jennie and way before the thing between the two of you happened. Jimin and Taehyung would always update you about the new fling or girl he had tied to his hip just as he was in his final year in high school. You had to force a smile every single time they’d snicker and joke about how your Jungkook suddenly became a man overnight.

And you noticed the trend with the women he liked. They were … captivating. Beautiful wasn’t even enough to describe them because they looked like they could carry the world on their shoulders and spark immense change with just the movement of their lips. They were confident and charismatic, outgoing and just the right amount of flirty. You were anything but.

It sucked, majorly, because you spent years agonising over the fact that you were already coined with the older sister title in the group because of the way you acted—just a little more uptight than the average woman your age. You were quiet but loud in the right company; you didn’t like crowds, socialising or mingling around with people you didn’t know and based on your observations it seemed like that was the only thing that Jungkook’s been doing ever since he made it to senior year in high school, and even in the first years of college.

You don’t resent him, you think. You couldn’t blame him because you weren’t honest either. You consented, to all of the kisses and touches even if he hadn’t officially had sex with you. You wanted to, but you were terrified. Not at the prospect of penetration but at the prospect of not being enough and the fact that Jungkook was the only person you wanted to have sex with while he had options that were far more attractive and experienced than you were.

That’s why you needed time because at least you could get your shit together even if it was an uphill battle.

“Earth to ____?” Taehyung waves a hand in front of your face with a concerned expression.

You blink, snapping out of your daze as you offer a meek smile and an apology.

“We just asked you if you wanted a small get together at Tae’s and I’s place for your birthday?” Jimin asks.

“Really?” You beam. That was exactly what you preferred.

“Yeah, we know you don’t like clubs and stuff. Just a small and intimate gathering with all your best buds.” He grins.

You nod your head, but Yena beats you to a response.

“By best buds you mean the three friends she has, which is us and the two meatheads duelling for her affection.” She snorts.

You flush, “Y-Yena!”

Taehyung snickers at your embarrassment.

“It doesn’t help that both of them are literally the biggest dudes on the football team. It’s literally like watching King Kong and Godzilla getting into a fight for world domination.”

Jimin throws his back in laughter as you fold your arms across your chest at post at the way your friends are practically crying in laughter at the image. Jimin was clutching onto Taehyung for his dear life because if he didn’t then he’d fall off the chair.

“Stop,” You whine, “you guys are being mean.”

“Oh my God, you’re literally the only person on this earth that would take two people fighting for your attention as an offence.” Taehyung groans.

“I-It’s not that!” You deny exasperatedly, “I-It’s just … awkward …”

Jimin sighs with a small smile, patting your head.

“If it’s any consolation I think it’s offensive that Jungkook thinks he even has the right to breathe in—”

“Jimin!”

“Wow. It really is like King Kong and Godzilla.” Jimin whistles lowly, eyeing the scene before him with amusement lingering in his eyes.

“Do you think they’re gonna start slamming their chests soon or …?” Taehyung trails off in a whisper, leaning into Jimin so that the two other men wouldn’t notice.

“I can literally hear you.” You say dryly.

Jimin offers you a plastic smile, “You’re meant to hear us, babe. How about you try to tame them like Jane did with Tarzan?”

Jimin nearly shrieks when you shove him so fiercely that he topples over into Taehyung’s grasp as the second part of the duo only catches him in the process. 

You sigh, completely ignoring the way that Jimin’s muttering curses that were directed to you under his breath. Instead, you were transfixed on the scene before you—which specifically is Jungkook and Namjoon staring each other down through the mirror of the gym. You were lucky that it was just the five of you since Namjoon was able to use his captain privileges to book the gym because you had no idea how to explain the fact that two big-sized men were attempting to outdo each other in their circuit reps as if they were on a suicide mission.

“Listen, when I agreed to help you out with your sets I thought I was meant to help log it in for a report.” You exasperate, but the two men continue their manly lift-off as they huff and puff their exertion away.

“Trust me, you are helping. Being the motivation is more than—”

This time it’s Taehyung who faces your wrath as you thwack him upside the head. 

From where Jungkook and Namjoon were, Jungkook can only deliver death stares into the direction of his captain who returns it tenfold. He wasn’t even sure why they were doing this but something a flicked definitely switched in Jungkook when Namjoon (purposefully) revealed that you were helping out with something. At the gym. Supposedly alone.

Jungkook’s primitive side came out because the next thing Namjoon knew was that Jungkook managed to drag himself, and Jimin and Taehyung as a diversion. He still feels his chest swell with pride when recalling the scowl on Namjoon’s face when he entered the gym, all fake smiles and a pep in his step.

“____, could you help me spot?” Namjoon breathes, sitting up from whatever the hell he was doing with the barbell. You weren’t fixated with gym language and you weren’t even sure why he was asking you when there was an entire Jimin and Taehyung right next to you.

“Uh, okay sure—“

“Noona,” Jungkook calls.

You freeze.

“Jungkook … I thought we established that you don’t need to call me that anymore.” You raise an eyebrow.

You miss the obvious glare that Namjoon shoots his bitchass friend, as well as the snorts that leave Jimin and Taehyung’s mouth.

“Pay attention to me,” Jungkook pouts. Like, actually pouts. You somehow flush because he seemed so much like the younger version of Jungkook who used to always coddle you for attention.

“Okay but after I help—”

“Yeah. After she helps me.” Namjoon interjects, and you nearly jump at the way he’s suddenly behind you, more so—pressed against your back with his hands on your hips as he moves you aside to get to another piece of equipment.

Your breath hitches because while you weren’t exactly invested in Namjoon in the romantic sense, he was undeniably attractive and … big. You could salivate in private.

“Oh my God, do you see that?” Taehyung hisses in a hushed whisper.

“Hyung is petty,” Jimin gawks.

“This is Namjoon we’re talking about. Didn’t he steal all the umbrellas from your dorm because you ratted him out to the librarian when he broke a bookshelf?” Taehyung recalls.

Jimin pauses to retract his mind to that moment.

“He’s so petty and I’m living for it. Look at Kook’s face,” He snickers, nudging Taehyung with his shoulder.

Jungkook only can clench his jaw in return because he knew that you wouldn’t be a fan of him reaching out to strangle the shit out of Namjoon. But the older boy seems fine, if not pleased with how Jungkook’s fuming in his own spot.

“Let me just …” You cock a thumb to Namjoon, before releasing a breath of your own and going to help him with whatever he needed in the first place.

“Jimin can help him. I have a more pressing problem.” He complains.

You stop in your tracks before turning around, raising an eyebrow at Jungkook who finally sits up, still staring at you like you held all the solutions in the world.

“Literally wait for your turn,” Namjoon scowls.

“My arm hurts,” Jungkook says, raising his arm to show you. 

“I don’t … see anything?” You furrow your brows.

“Because my muscles hurt, Noona,” Jungkook emphasises with a flex of his bicep and you can feel yourself get hot in the way your eyes can’t stray away.

You’re momentarily distracted by the blatant display of muscle by Jungkook that you completely miss the way that Jimin and Taehyung are struggling to breathe because of how hard they’re stifling their laughter or the way that Namjoon is contemplating on throwing the nearest dumbbell into Jungkook’s direction.

You flush, “Okay, you know what? Wait here. Let me get the first aid kit.” You mumble, quickly scampering off to alleviate yourself from the situation.

The moment you leave the room, Namjoon takes two long strides until he reaches where Jungkook’s sat, before wrapping a hand around the arm that was supposedly hurt—and squeezes.

“Ow! What the fuck hyung?!” Jungkook shrieks.

“Don’t hyung me, you brat.” Namjoon seethes, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jungkook gapes, while Jimin and Taehyung watch in amusement.

“Me?! What’s wrong with you?” Jungkook retorts, equally as agitated, “Oh, _____, help spot me! Woe is me! Like she wouldn’t get crushed under you, you meathead!” 

“Like you’re any better,” Namjoon snaps, “Oh, Noona, pay attention to me. My arm hurts. You might as well have asked her to change your fucking diapers at the rate you’re acting like a damn child.”

“You’re the one that started all of this!” Jungkook exasperates, “With all due respect hyung, I love you and you’re my captain but I really feel like smashing your head into the wall right now.”

“That’s it?” Namjoon scoffs, “Well I’ll do you one better and let you know that every time you breathe in my direction I feel like—”

“Oh my God will you two idiots shut the fuck up?” Taehyung interjects, snapping at the two boys who pause, staring up at him with wide eyes.

Even Jimin is surprised at Taehyung’s intervention, purely because he was the type that usually let shit slide or let other people put problematic individuals into place. He was the mediator, the diplomat—not usually the aggressor.

“Wha—”

“Another peep and I’m going to smother your body under the dumbbells and leave you here to rot and die.” Taehyung seethes, staring straight into Jungkook’s soul.

That shuts him up.

“Both of you are acting like goddamn children, and for what? To battle out your masculinity to see who gets ____’s attention first?” Taehyung exasperates.

Namjoon clears his throat, “We were just—”

“—acting like a bunch of barbarians who’s never seen civilisation?” Taehyung retorts dryly, “Yeah. Because that’s exactly what this looks like. The two of you are so petty and for what? You two are literally rubbing the last remaining brain cells you have with each other but nothing is coming out from it. Like—nothing. Do you think she’d give a shit which one of you can lift more reps? That means absolutely nothing! She’s already freaked the fuck out at the prospect of her childhood best friend being in love with her and now we have Big Tit Number One and Two battling it out like you’re in the Greek Olympics.”

Jungkook blinks, and Jimin is mildly impressed.

“So before she comes back and tends to Jungkook’s hurt muscle,” Taehyung sneers, eyes narrowing at a guilty-looking Jungkook, “Both of you better sort your shit out.”

Namjoon flushes, embarrassed at the prospect of being called out, all while Jungkook is avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“Oh my God, do you have a crush on each other or something? Apologise!” Taehyung gestures towards the two boys who awkwardly blink at each other, feeling much like reprimanded children.

It’s Namjoon who breaks the silence first, clearly the more mature one in the situation.

“Look … Jungkook,” He sighs, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to … drag it out like this. I don’t mean it maliciously and you’re my friend and teammate, so I’d really hate if a girl got in the way.”

Jungkook nibbles on his lips, eyebrows still scrunched; and the irrational part of him tells him to ignore the apology. But with the way that Taehyung is glaring him down, with Jimin’s expectant gaze, he knows that he doesn’t have much of a choice.

“I’m sorry … too,” he winces at his own voice, “But just to let you know … I really …” He shuts his eyes, feeling his chest tighten when he tries to force the words out, “She isn’t just … a girl to me, hyung. I really, really like her. And—I know you like her too but … I fucked up and I really want to make things right and seeing you—”

Jungkook is flushing while he rambles on, fully aware that the rest of his friends are listening intently to him speaking his heart. But a hand rests itself on his shoulder, and when Jungkook opens his eyes he sees Namjoon offering him a gentle smile.

“I know,” He says, “I know I said I wouldn’t back off …” He trails off and Jungkook recalls the conversation he had with him in the very same gym just a few weeks back, “But I don’t think I can compete with a decade long love story.” 

Jungkook scoffs, though his ears are flushed.

“It’s really not—”

Namjoon waves him off, clasping a tight hand onto his back that tells him it’s okay, and whatever that was going on would get better. And Jungkook feels marginally better and allows himself to let out a sigh of release.

“So are the two of you gonna kiss or what?” Jimin asks in the midst of the silence.

Namjoon glares at the boy, “Don’t make me give you an extra ten laps.”

He backs down immediately, raising his hands up in defence. And at that moment, you return, all smiles and with a pant as you raise the first aid kit up.

“Your arm?” You smile sweetly, and Jungkook can only offer a weak on in return.

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Depends. Will I have to run from the government if I answer you honestly?” Yena ponders out loud.

You roll your eyes but shake your head anyway. The two of you were meant to be cooking dinner but you’ve surrendered yourself to Netflix and Yena’s witty live commentary on horrible films you were scrolling through an hour earlier. Though, your head wasn’t quite in it, to begin with; your thoughts drifting to other aspects, ones that you thought too hard for and didn’t necessarily know the answer to.

It was frustrating, the way that you wanted to have a solution for everything but overthought every single case that happens to pass by your mind. 

“No one’s hunting anyone down, your anarchist,” You say, “This is a little … personal.” 

You didn’t have any girl friends prior to Yena, and that was your first mistake. You weren’t the person that actively avoided having girl friends because you thought they were dramatic or overly emotional but purely because you never knew how to befriend women. It was weird—being a woman yet being muddled with your own sense of femininity that suppressed your ability to form meaningful friendships with your women peers.

Throughout most of your childhood and teenaged life, you only had Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook. While they were more than enough to keep your memories cheerful and filled with laughter, there were more personal things that you couldn’t quite approach them with. They had each other to confide in their ‘manly’ discussions, small talk that you’d often flush at—but you couldn’t ask them the same things you wanted to.

You knew, that on a fundamental level that your personal things were just … things. It wasn’t that deep, nor did it require a PhD in Gender Studies to fully understand the nuance of periods or apparent ‘girl’ problems; you just needed to listen. But you were timid, and you got embarrassed super easily—so that never boded well whenever you’d want to approach them with a question of your own.

But now, you had Yena—debatably the most open and understanding person you’ve met in your life; and you owed it to yourself, and her—to be honest, to live yourself vicariously in your girl best friends eyes—and ask:

“How do you have sex?”

Granted, there was definitely a smoother way of peeling off the bandaid, but you supposed if you were going to be discussing this one way or another, you’d go big or go home.

“I’m sorry,” She coughs, “What?”

You blink.

“Sorry, I guess I should’ve asked if you were a virgin first …” You mumble.

Yena stares at you with a stupefied expression as she gapes at you.

“Hey, repeat after me: candy, tree and cat.” She grabs you by your shoulders.

“I’m not cerebrally compromised, Yena,” you say dryly.

“Repeat,” She glares.

You huff, shoving her hand off your shoulder.

“Candy, tree and cat. There, happy?” You huff.

She eyes you weirdly as you sigh. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes!” You exasperate, “So like … how? Do you just? Penetrate?”

Yena blinks one more time, her eyes trailing to the ceiling as she asks for a higher being to give her strength before she returns her gaze onto your figure.

“Babe, that is literally the unsexiest way to approach sex.” 

“Penetration?” You furrow your brows.

She scrunches her brows, “No.” She gestures to you, “That.”

You scowl.

“I don’t know how to approach sex! That’s why I’m asking you. I literally don’t know who else to approach. If I went to Jimin or Taehyung I’m pretty sure they’d just stare at me and cry. Namjoon is out of the picture because he’d likely approach sex textbook style and I don’t need that level of detail right now. I definitely can’t ask Jungkook because he’s the guy I wanna have sex with. So yeah. I’m here because you’re a woman and the only person I can have a full conversation with without losing my will to live.”

Yena gawks at you, jaw slack as you finish your ramble; ears flushed.

“… you …” She begins, wracking her brain for the words that seem to fail her, “… okay. You know what, the fact that you’re here and putting your big girl pants on and asking me this is a feat in itself so I’m going to just ignore the fact that you said you wanted to have sex with Jungkook.”

You flush, “I was word vomiting—”

“Ah,” She holds her hands up, levelling you with a knowing glare, “If you want honest, you be honest too.”

You slump in your seat, sighing as you nod your head defeatedly.

“Firstly, I’m not a virgin. I could never be a virgin.” Yena declares, “Granted, I’ve slept with three people and two of them were women. But the idiot I lost my virginity to was, unfortunately, of XY chromosomes so … I guess I can answer your questions.”

“I mean … I know how sex works but … approaching it …” You mutter.

“And sex isn’t this groundbreaking act that requires Einstein’s IQ to partake in. It’s both intimate and not, and that’s definitely a personal preference. You can know the semantics of how people have sex, for hets in this case, which is just the classic ol’ penetration method where the penis enters the—”

“Your point?” You exasperate.

“—okay, I got a little carried away. But really, sex isn’t … difficult. It’s scary, I’ll give you that. But you don’t go into your first time thinking you’ll be great at it. Hell, you won’t even like sex that much your first few times unless your partner is a sex demon or something.”

“I mean when Jungkook …” You shudder, “When he … I … you know, did things … it felt …” You fiddle with your fingers. Your ears were undoubtedly on fire, and you were so embarrassed saying these things out loud because it was just so awkward!

“Good? You know I’m not going to judge you for it,” she says pointedly, “That’s what friends are for, right?”

You flush, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment. You knew that Yena would never judge you for something as trivial and as unimportant as your sexual endeavours, but this was still a road you’ve yet to properly navigate yourself.

“I … came,” you wince at your breathy voice, “It felt good. And … he’s experienced, you know? I just don’t want to …”

Yena looks at you inquisitively.

“You don’t want to …?”

You sigh deeply, considering your next words with a soft murmur, “I don’t want to not live up to his expectations, you know?”

She frowns at you, “Jungkook’s made some mistakes but you said it yourself. He’s in love with you,” she says softly, “There’s no pressure to have sex with him just because it’s out in the open now, you know?”

You nibble on your lips.

“It’s … more than just that,” you tell her, “I told him I needed time, and really, I do. But it isn’t because I’m confused. I mean, kind of—but really it’s because I don’t want to walk into something and disappoint him … I’m just … scared.”

Yena holds your hand in hers while offering you a gentle smile.

“It’s valid that you’re scared. But there really isn’t anything that can come out of being scared right now. The two of you worked through an obstacle, and here you are creating another one that doesn’t quite exist yet. Trust me, when the time feels right, it does. And you’ll feel ready. Will you still be scared? Maybe. But it’ll feel like it’s meant to fit within your timeline.”

You nibble on your lips, “Is it bad that I’m overthinking this?” You wince.

Yena shrugs her shoulders, “Like everything else in your life?” She teases.

You whine, shoving at her shoulder playfully where all Yena does is snicker in response. You weren’t quite sure what you were expecting out of the conversation, even if it was vaguely about the ins and outs of sexual exploration. And she was right, you’ll always be afraid of something, whether it’ll benefit you or harm you because that’s what change does. It shifts your comfort zone into a space that may be unfamiliar but necessary.

You lean into Yena’s shoulder, and a wave of overwhelming emotion washes upon you when you look at her. You really didn’t know how you survived a time without Yena in your life. And as if she’s noticed your glassy gaze, she raises an eyebrow at you.

“What are you looking at?”

You grin at her, all teeth and gums on display as you hug onto her arm like a koala.

“I’m just really happy you’re in my life.” You sigh wistfully.

She pauses for one whole second before she snorts.

“Wow, talk about sex once and suddenly you’re in love with me?” She wiggles her eyebrows at you, “Tell Jeon and Kim that you’re mine now.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes.

“They’re not even competing in the same league as you are,” you assure her.

She smiles.

“So … does that mean I don’t need to get you a birthday gift?”

That earns a thwack on her shoulder.

#bad boy good thing #bbgt #bts #bts fics #bts series #bts angst #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook #jungkook x oc #jungkook series #fluff #angst #smut #jeon jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook angst #jeon jungkook smut

[sketching-shark]

LMK fandom: Oh, what do we do about this guy who has nothing but hurt Xiaotian, tried to replace Sun Wukong and his crew, hurt Tripitaka and ordered servants to cannibalize a monkey? Oh I know! We’ll turn him into our little meow meow~ he’s so innocent and Sun Wukong is obviously the villain!

What doesn’t help is this idea is perpetuated by multiple fan fic writers and artists for some reason. Especially some aus they make that turn SWK into a bastard for the sake of the story rather than considering cultural context and thinking they should be respectful.

And almost everyone lets them get away with it just because the art or fanfic is good and they get so popular that no one can point what is actually wrong without feeling like they’re going to get attacked.

I'm starting to feel like my blog is the one anons go to specifically to vent their frustrations about the Six Eared Macaque in his lego monkey show form & the associated fandom lmao. But I guess this makes sense, as I’ve had fun quasi-dragging him before & will in fact use this anon submission as an opportunity to have my own, to put it academically, bitch fest about not just this fandom's favorite protagonist-traumatizing meow meow, but about the way villains are often treated in not just fanon, but increasingly in canon works as well. But same policy as with the last anon; I'll post my opinions below the cut, and as fandoms love to say, don’t like don't read if you don't want to see me dunking on the six eared simian & common fandom tendencies towards villains.

Oh man I would say where would you even begin with this but anon you’ve pretty much started yourself with my main gripe with a lot of ways that the Six-Eared Macaque is portrayed in fandom; there seems to be this unspoken agreement that his acts of violence towards Sun Wukong, Qi Xioatian, and Qi Xioatian’s loved ones are either to be framed as somewhat or totally justified, to be immediately forgiven/excused, or to simply & completely be ignored. Like friends maybe this is just me not seeing the proper posts but while the fandom is inundated with art and fanfics of Macaque as a generally decent individual & a true member of team good guy, I have yet to see one person address the fact that this monkey literally kidnapped & mind-controlled Xiaotian’s best friend and father figures & forced them to brutalize Xiaotian while ol’ Six Ear looked on and laughed (X_X). Like this kind of fandom villain treatment is definitely not something that’s solely at work for Monkie Kid, but it is kind of nutty how fandoms will swing between yelling that people should be allowed to like villains without even mild critique, and then will just flat-out not address the villainous behavior, and will even bend over backwards to frame even characters who committed genocide as just poor innocent widdle victims who need a hug. At its worst, I’ve even seen tons of people in a fandom get really angry at other people who don’t like a villain, and will even start accusing those people of hating real-life mentally disabled or abused individuals all because they don’t like the fandom’s favorite literal war criminal. The Monkie Kid fandom is FAR more chill & better than a lot of other fandoms I’ve come across in that regard, but that is an exceedingly low bar, & the tendency to woobify certain kinds of villains-- as with Macaque and the extreme emphasis on his bad boy/sad boy thing--is very much at work.  

 I’ve also talked before about a kind of monoculturalization of certain character interpretations and story beats in fandoms, and one of the more popular ones that seems to be applied to Macaque a lot is the “hero actually bad, villain actually good” cliche, as observable from the general fandom assumption that Mr. Six-Ears he wasn’t even slightly lying or remembering things through a rose-tinted or skewed lens when he gave his version of his and Sun Wukong’s past. Like at this point it seems the possibility that people WILL NOT even consider is that Sun Wukong never did & still doesn't care that much about the Six Eared Macaque (in JTTW they weren’t sworn brothers & in Monkie Kid the only thing the monkey king really said to Macaque before attacking him was a pretty contemptuous "Aren't you ever going to get sick of living under my shadow?," & responds to his "beloved friend" getting blown up with "You did good, bud" to Qi Xiaotian, who did the exploding), or that their original fight may in fact have mostly been instigated by Macaque. After all, to repeat what this anon summarized & what I've said before about their original JTTW context (& in an example of the things that do feel like it's often lost in translation) is that the Six Ear Macaque was a villain not just because he beat up the Tang Monk, but because he wanted to take over Sun Wukong's entire life and identity so he could have all that glory, prestige, and power for himself. To quote the macaque himself from the Anthony C. Yu translation, "I struck the T'ang monk and I took the luggage...precisely because I want to go to the West all by myself to ask Buddha for the scriptures. When I deliver them to the Land of the East, it will be my success and no one else's. Those people of the South Jambudvipa Continent will honor me then as their patriarch and my fame will last for all posterity." And in order to do this, the Six Eared Macaque had apparently made Sun Wukong's "little ones," his monkey family, his captives through either trickery or force, and gotten a number of them to take on the appearance of Tang Sanzang and the other pilgrims. It's also made clear that in very direct contrast to Sun Wukong, he doesn't care about these monkeys beyond how they might serve him. In fact, after Sha Wujing kills the monkey posing as him the Six Eared Macaque not only all but immediately replaces him with another, but also "told his little ones to have the dead monkey skinned. Then his meat was taken to be fried and served as food along with coconut and grape wines." So this monkey is not only willing to risk the lives of a lot of other monkeys for his own personal benefit, but is also a literal cannibal. And yes yes, I know a lot of people have argued that Monkie Kid shouldn't be considered a direct sequel to JTTW & that's fair enough (for example, Sun Wukong probably shouldn't be smashing anyone into a meat patty in a children's cartoon lol). And of course, it needs to be noted that there are a buttload of really out there & really cursed pieces of media based on JTTW & that were created in China. Yet the above description is the oft-ignored in the west original facet of the Six Eared Macaque's character. And it is this selfishness, entitlement, and treatment of other individuals as tools for his own self-serving ends  that is, from where I’m standing, still very much present in Monkie Kid. Like besides repeatedly going out of his way to physically and psychologically traumatize Xioatian, with the last episode Macaque seemed to be going right back to his manipulative ways. I’ve seen people frame their last conversation as Macaque softening to Xioatian a little bit, but personally that read a lot more like that common tactic among abusers where even after they’ve hurt you they’ll dangle something you want or need over your head (in Macaque’s case, the promise of desperately needed training and information about a serious looming threat), with the implication that you’ll only get it if you do what they want you to, such as, in this case, Xioatian going back to Macaque as his student even after having been so terribly hurt by this monkey, which would give Macaque power over Xiaotian and probably Sun Wukong as a result. And it is this violence and manipulation that it seems the fandom at large has tacitly decided shouldn’t even be addressed, instead leaning more towards a (and this is an exaggeration) “Six-Eared Macaque my poor meow meow Sun Wukong has always been bad & has always been wrong about literally everything” reading. 

And while it is the case that I am not Chinese and feel that as such it would be best left to someone who actually comes from that background to provide more context into how common interpretations of the Six Eared Macaque from China may clash really badly with the stuff the western fandom creates, it also must be noted that, as much as we all want to have fun in fandom & in spite of all the out-there versions of JTTW from China, we westerners should recognize that there is a very long and very ugly history of western countries stripping other cultures’ important religious and literary works for parts & mashing them into their own thing while implying or even insisting that what they present provides a true understanding of the original piece. And while I trust most individuals in regards to Monkie Kid are able to step back and think “this is a lego cartoon and not a set guide for how I should understand JTTW” (especially given the insistence that JTTW and Monkie Kid should be considered there own separate works) there does nevertheless seem to be something of a tendency to take the conclusions people come to, for example, about Sun Wukong’s characteristic in his lego form & then assume that’s just reflective to Sun Wukong as a totality. I imagine a good portion of this is due to people not reading JTTW & especially to not having easy access to solid information or answers about JTTW’s many different facets (like geez awhile ago I was trying to get a clear answer on what is considered the most accurate translation of the names of Sun Wukong’s six sworn brothers & got like 5 different responses lmao), but that tendency to take a western fandom interpretation & run with it instead of doing any background research or questioning said interpretation is still very much at play. As such, & as made prominent in the way people have been interpreting the dynamic between Sun Wukong and the Six Eared Macaque in the lego monkey show, tbh it does seem kind of shitty for western creators & audience to sometimes go really out of their way to ignore all of this original cultural & narrative context for the sake of Angst (TM) in Macaque's favor, demonizing Sun Wukong, and shipping the monkey king with his evil twin (X_X).

And speaking of which, even beyond the potential inherent creepiness & revulsion that can be inspired by this specific ship given common interpretations of the og classic's original meaning (again, it's my understanding, given both summaries of translated Chinese academic texts I've been kindly provided with, my own reading of the Anthony C. Yu translation of JTTW, & vents from a number of Chinese people I've seen on this site, that the Six-Eared Macaque is commonly interpreted in China as having originated from Sun Wukong himself as a living embodiment of his worst traits, hence why only Buddha can tell the difference between them & why the monkey king is much more slow to violence after he kills the macaque), I'd argue that in the face of all the uwu poor widdle meow meow portrayals lego show Macaque is, especially if you include JTTW's events, still in the role of “Sun Wukong but worse” as he is very much a violent & selfish creep. Like he was basically running around in JTTW wearing a Sun Wukong fursuit, but there he had the sole reason of wanting to replace Sun Wukong wholesale so he could have all the good things in the monkey king's life without actually having to work as hard for them. But if you combine that with Macaque now claiming that he used to be best friend with Sun Wukong in his pre-journey days (something that's made funny from a JTTW context given that that status actually belongs to the Demon Bull King lol), his original violence has now blown into this centuries long and really unhealthy obsession with the monkey king. Like he's apparently gone from wanting to literally be Sun Wukong to being so obsessed with getting revenge on Sun Wukong that he's got basically nothing else going on in his life. Like he's only appeared in two episodes but...does he have any friends? Any family? A career or even a hobby that DOESN'T center the monkey king? Anything at all outside of his "get revenge on and/or kill Sun Wukong/use his successor as my personal punching bag” thing? Like dude! That is extremely creepy and extremely bad for everyone all around! As I’ve said before, this seeming refusal to see beyond the past or to do something that doesn’t involve Sun Wukong in some capacity is a trait that makes Macaque an interesting and somewhat tragic villain--he even seems to be working as Sun Wukong’s reflection in a mirror darkly, with lego show Sun Wukong pretty clearly not being able to heal from his own past which is hinted to be defined by one loss after another, and with Monkie Kid even kind of having these two characters somewhat follow their JTTW characterizations in that in the latter half of the journey Sun Wukong often gets sad & starts crying in the face of what seems insurmountable odds (& Monkie Kid Sun Wukong does seem to be hiding some serious depression behind a cheerful facade), whereas the Six-Eared Macaque retains a worse version of Sun Wukong’s pre-journey characteristic of getting pissed and lashing out if things don’t go his way--but it’s also what would make any current friendship or romantic relationship between these monkeys horrific. Although to be fair even the fandom seems to recognize this in an unconscious way, in that a lot of the art & fanfic seems to swing erratically between them kissing & screaming at each other in yet another example of bog-standard fandom adulation of romanticized toxic relationships lol.  

At the end of the day, of course, this is nothing new. You'll find versions of this dynamic across a ton of fandoms and now even canonical work. And as such, I can only look at this kind of popularized relationship dynamic with a kind of resigned weariness whenever it pops up, & my frustrated question with the popularity of this kind of pairing is the exact same one that I have for a multitude of blatantly toxic villain/hero ships, given common fandom discourse & the tendency to either ignore or justify the villain's actions & demonize the hero: if you're THAT convinced that everything is the hero's fault, if you believe THAT much that the hero is the one in the wrong for the villain's pain and their subsequent actions, then why are you so set on them not only becoming a romantic pair, but framing this get-together as a good thing? Like I know we contain multitudes but that's waaay too many contradictions for me to wrap my head around. And it definitely doesn’t help that one branch of underlying reasoning behind this kind of pairing seems to be the ever-present “you break it, you fix it” mentality, where the assumption is that if you’re in a failing, abusive, and/or generally toxic relationship (platonically or romantically), if you put in enough time and effort & attempts to compromise, you’ll be able to restore/have the relationship you dreamed of, even with someone who hurt you really badly. And this assumption isn’t limited to fandom: I’d even argue that it’s everywhere in the culture, hence why a lot of people feel like they “failed” if they have to get a divorce or make the choice to leave an unhealthy friendship. Personally, I feel like people could really benefit from more stories about how it is not only the case that the people you hurt don’t owe you their forgiveness & you can still become a better and happier person without the one you hurt in your life, & that while it can be really hard it can also be a good thing to leave a relationship, even if it’s one that once meant a lot to you. 

  But in all honestly, from my own perspective this kind of pairing is starting to read far less like enemies to lovers and far more like a horrible fantasy where you can pull whatever shit you want, even on the people you "love," & never be held accountable for your terrible behavior or even have to consider that maybe you were in the wrong. It's another facet that makes me larf every time I see people insist that fandom is an inherently "transformative" or "progressive" form of storytelling like friends you are literally just taking status quo toxic monogamy & rebranding it as somehow beneficial & romantic (X_X).

But as to anon’s last frustration, it is hard to know what is the appropriate response with this kind of thing...like for my own part I’m keeping my frustrations to my blog & now increasingly to posts that you would have to click on the “read more” button to see what I have to say, but I totally get the hesitation to give even a mild critique to big names in a fandom. Like I've now seen it happen repeatedly where someone who has a big name in a fandom will make something that's kind of shitty for one reason or another, someone will message them with some version of "hey, that's kind of shitty, you shouldn't do that," and the typical response is either to blatantly ignore the issue completely, or more popularly to make a giant crying circus that seems deliberately geared towards stoking emotions on both sides of the, for example, fiction does/doesn't affect reality issue so that something that didn't even have to be that big a deal gets blown out of all proportion, with the big name often framing what often started out as a very mild critique into a long crying jag about how the initial response to their kind of shitty thing was so mean/cruel and they're just a poor innocent & that YOU'RE the true racist/sexist/bigot etc. if you don't agree with their opinion. It must of course be noted that there have also been numerous instances of people taking it too far the other way & sending not just big names but smaller creators literal deaths threats over stuff like innocuous ships which like holy hell bells people that’s a horrible thing to do. But for the big names at least, the end result of all this fighting is usually that once the dust has settled they have more attention/fame/money/power in the fandom than before, and with anyone who might have a problem with their stuff feeling afraid to voice their opinion lest they be swarmed by that person's fans. In that way fandom does often seem to increasingly be geared towards presenting an “official” fandom perspective about various facets of a piece of media instead of allowing for a multitude of interpretations, and with criticism, no matter its shape or form or how genuinely warranted it may be, being hounded out of existence. I feel like a lot of this could be made less bad if there wasn’t this constant assumption & even drive to think that a different interpretation of or criticism of your favorite work of fiction or your fanwork isn’t a direct claim that you are a thoroughly loathsome individual (& maybe also if people cultivated an enjoyment of learning things about important works from a culture outside their own, even if what you learn clashes with your own initial understandings), but I guess we’ll see if that ever happens. 

So these are my general thinks about the Six Eared Macaque’s current fandom meow meow status & some of my bigger gripes with fandom tendencies as a whole. I stand by my idea that the most interesting & beneficial route for Macaque moving forward would be a kind of “redemption without forgiveness from the ones you hurt” arc--as I think was done pretty excellently with the character Grace in Infinity Train--and if for no other reason than gosh dern this monkey really needs to cultivate some sort of identity beyond his “Sun Wukong but worse” persona. 

#lmk macaque #monkie kid macaque #6 eared macaque #monkie kid #lmk sun wukong #qi xiaotian #lmk monkey king #sun wukong #monkey king #journey to the west #jttw #fandom criticism #lmk