#until he just conformed to what everyone else did

[scionshtola]

man h*rmes really just. did not have the tools to help m*teion properly process all that despair. and how could he! no one else had them (the flowers were always white!). but he cared about her. and he wanted her to go out and learn how to deal with despair and more (in the course of your long journey you will learn from those you meet. learn to walk and run and so much more). and it’s just so sad to me. if he knew how to handle his own despair, if he knew that everyone had to find their own reason for living, he wouldn’t have needed to send her out in the first place.

#sorry about the asterisks but once i made a half joking post about v*nat and a few days later someone was talking about it in the tags like #i was serious. and if that happens to me again i’ll implode so #anyway i think about this alllll the time 😭 like how could he help her!! he didn’t know! and no one else gets it! #after ktisis they just wear him down saying over and over ‘you can just remake those creatures that died’ as if that were the point #until he just conformed to what everyone else did #the first time he ever saw the flowers change color for someone else was meeting the wol 😭 #anyway this is why i’m firm in my belief that if the ancients knew about m*teion and found a way to reach her they would not have treated #her the way we do. they were already being unkind to her before any of this happened bc they don’t see her as a real person #btw speaking of not seeing someone as a real person you know who didn’t see cori as real— #[i am forcibly yanked offstage] #i need a text post tag #while i was trying to remember an exact quote i saw someone call him a hypocrite which is a whole other post i’ll leave it at this for now

[bylertruther]

me when season five airs and The Big Reveals are mike's sexuality and will's love for mike bc mike has always known he's loved will but he hasn't always been comfortable with his sexuality and will has always known what he is but he didn't always know that what he felt for mike was that kind of love until it was already too late and thus the source of his pain has been jealousy + unrequited love

#mike said 'it's not my fault you don't like girls' and 'did you think /i/ would never get a girlfriend?' and joyce said she was so proud of #will's rainbow rocket ship and jonathan told will he'd always love him no matter what and to please talk to him if he needs to and the #party has always heard what people call will and loved him anyway no matter what and will has generally always had people in his corner #to support him that have literally endangered themselves and almost died for him and some people STILLLLLL think that HIS plot is abt #/focused on coming out n being generally accepted for being gay. like we didn't see that his entire s4 plot was abt his feelings for mike #specifically not his feelings for men in general. #UNLIKE MIKE who was fiercely devoted to will from the get-go but suddenly pushed him away n projected his internalized homophobia #and shame bestowed upon him by society onto will who wasn't even fucking talking about THAT thank u very much and who has been #battling being a freak loser (aka himself) vs conforming to what everyone else wants him to be (wearing mommy's clothes; impressing #other people by getting not just a girlfriend but a SUPERHERO girlfriend) and who in the season where he says he doesn't want to be #popular and where the person he looks up to talks abt nonconformity and mentions sodomy in relation 2 dnd etc etc they make HIS plot #focus on how he CAN'T SAY I LOVE YOU TO HIS GIRLFRIEND IN A ROMANTIC CONTEXT until HIS BEST FRIEND confesses his feelings #and it moves him enough to then make him say it to el when his bestie tells him to. like. literally how much more clear does it need 2 be #MIKE is the one that has BEEENNNNN vying for acceptance and self-worth and battling shame #WILL has been the one that has Known what he is and suffered bc he thought mike was that too n obviously felt hurt by mike replacing him #with el n ignoring him altogether aka 'you're destroying everything and for what? so you can swap spit with some stupid girl?' #like am i the weird one or does mike's 3984093 weird projecting statements after s2 vs will being jealous of el not make this super clear #will HAS ALWAYS HAD ppl to accept him n love him for who he is. the party + his family are right there for him to go home to after being #bullied. it's scary and a part of his story yes undoubtedly but it is not The High Point. and mike has always been crazy for will but #that doesn't mean he's accepted it or thinks others will accept it. #but anyway. im normal i did not write an entire essay in the tags bc i am normal

[rosemarydisaster]

Magnus Protocol ARG

Im not sure if someone else has already done this (most likely) but I've been re-readin the magnus institute excell with all the kids names. Since the tests where psychological in nature I thought maybe I could figure out if the "Connor" Dyer profile worked for Alice. But I think I've found out something about Sam. This might be the most tin foil hat theory I've had in a while but it makes sense! I've connected the dots!!!!!

There's a couple of things I need to stablish first:

The names seem to be ranked from lowest to highest score on the empathy test.

Sam scored the highest, Gerry the second highest (Dyer is closer to the middle of the list).

The tests seem to relate to cognitive development, especially related to morality and empathy.

The Asch test measures your "conformity" aka, how susceptible you are to peer pressure. Basically, they ask you a question, everyone before you gives the wrong answer, and the test is whether you would give the correct answer or go with what the others said.

The Milgram test measures your obedience when in conflict with your morality. The (very) abridged version is: they tell you tu punish someone by shocking them with increasing voltages and if you refuse they ask you to continue. The experiment goes on until reaching 450 volts or if the participant completely refuses even when ordered to continue.

We know the Institute was trying to find Subjects, Agents and Catalysts (there's an amazing post about this from @alice-apparently )

Okay so I made a little excell with the relevant info:

Both Gerry and Dyer show low conformity and obedience levels. Which, knowing Gerry (and maybe Alice??) makes complete sense. We can assume that they both chose to give the correct answer even if everyone else answered differently, and they also refused to administer the punishment even when directly ordered.

Sam on the other hand, mr "would rather die than complain about being forcefed cake" did in fact go with what most people said instead of the correct answer. He also finished the Milgram experiment, going against his moral compass to obey the instructions.

I think they were trying to find viable subjects to groom into avatars for the eye. Hear me out. The kids with the lowest empathy score show high scores in the Milgram test (makes sense, they don't care as much about hurting people) but from 80% empathy forward no one scores high. No one except Sam, the one with the highest empathy score.

Why not just pick the one's with the least empathy? the least empathetic kids were also the youngest and the ones with lowest cognitive developement (I do not go in deph about the other test but you can see the scores for yourself here). This kids aren't useful yet, because maybe they'll become more empathetic (And as such, more resistent to the Milgram test) as they grow up/develop.

Not Sam. He has perfect scores in every single development test, he has the highest empathy and yet he's the most likely to be influenced to harm other people.

In episode 10 Sam confirms his obsession with finding out why they didn't chose him despite having the highest scores. Gerry was the second highest and he didn't get picked either. My theory is that Sam was indeed chosen, and the fact that he shows no survival instincts when it comes to figuring this mystery out is prove.

His test results show someone whiling to file useless papeworks with extremely personal information because "well, you're supposed to even if no one reads it". Also Teddy leaving for a job that somehow didn't actually exist smells like somebody trying to free a spot in the very Eye-coded OIAR. A spot that Sam is more than happy to accept.

I don't know if this is an incredibly long con to condition Sam into the perfect vessel for the eye or if the Magnus Institute had to change plans after burning down. If it's the latter I can see them being very happy when their specialest little boy signed up for the OIAR and fell right into their laps again. Either way, Sam's fucked.

#tmagp theory #tmagp #tmagp 10 #tmagp spoilers #tmagp arg #samama khalid #gerry keay #alice dyer #oiar

[annymation]

"This Wish" Reimagined

Asha's "I Want" song in my Wish rewrite

Something that quite bothered me in Wish’s “I want song” is that I never really… Connected with Asha as a character while listening to it.

With Ariel we WANT to see her get to the surface.

With Quasimodo we WANT to see him out of Notre Dame.

With Mirabel we WANT to see her make her family proud.

With Asha I want… her to have more than this…?

And what is “this”? Like, the subject is vague, and that’s because the song writer Julia Michels was asked to just “Write a song about a young woman that wants to fight an corrupt system” which is a neat concept… But Julia didn’t know what that corrupt system even was doing, I’m not joking, she said so on interviews, AND SHE SAID DISNEY ASKED HER TO DO IT IN 3 WEEKS LIKE GIRL!?

Anyway, as a result, I can’t really relate to Asha’s struggles because the song feel like it could be sang by ANYONE facing a hard situation where they “May be young but are not wrong” or “Have hesitations about what to do”…

But who is ASHA in this, aside from the person who is singing the song? Yeah, she wants more, but more WHAT?! You can listen to “When will my life begin” without watching Tangled and you’ll totally understand what Rapunzel’s personality is and what she wants… But in This Wish?… I don’t know who the heck is Asha, and I watched the movie!

It doesn’t help that in the movie the BIG HORRIBLE REVEAL that Asha is facing is that the system that only grants one wish per month… isn’t granting EVERYONE’S wishes… when that should’ve been common sense, like, does no one in Rosas understand basic math???

In my rewrite though, Asha has been silently questioning the system around her but knowing full well she couldn’t change it so she just accepted it, until the day arrived for her to give away her wish to conform to the expectations. She said she didn’t want to, and questioned if the king even granted all the wishes like he said he did. Seeing that she had spirit, the king and queen gaslight, gatekeep and girlboss manipulated her to get a wish out of her, and after that, by peeking through a door, Asha discovered the truth about her kingdom’s wish system, a truth so terrifying for her that she ran as far away as she could. And with no one else to help her… She made a wish upon a star.

(There, I summarized my rewrite so far, if that sounds cool to you consider checking it out here)

I think that’s a more interesting premise, and it gives Asha more nuance, but how do you translate ALL THAT into one song? Well, here’s how I’d change “This Wish” to do that:

“This Wish”

Should have listened to my own instincts No time to cry now for what could have been If I could show them everything I've seen Open their eyes to all the lies then Would they believe in me or in them? But when I speak, they tell me, "Sit down" But how can I when I've already started runnin'? All I wanted to do was grant my wish on my own But now that wish's stolen and, I am all alone [Chorus] So I look up at the stars to guide me For I know they can send me a sign If knowing what it could be is what drives me Then let me be the first to stand in line So I make this wish Asking us for freedom, hope and bliss So I make this wish To have something more for us than this [Post-Chorus] Hey, yeah, yeah, yeah Hey, yeah, yeah, yeah, ah-ah More than this, oh-ah-ah-ah For many years they’ve been tricking us all Yeah, they said “We’ll protect you” while being our downfall Now what’s a girl like me supposed to do? How do you fight a king and queen? oh and they’ve got magic too! And all I've got is reservations and hesitations On where I should even begin I'm past dipping my toes in But I'm not, no, I'm not past diving in If I could just be pointed in any given direction On where to go and what to do My legs are shaking, but my head's held high The way you always taught me to [Chorus] So I look up at the stars to guide me For I know they will send me a sign I'm sure there will be challenges that find me But I can take them on one at a time So I make this wish Asking us for freedom, hope and bliss So I make this wish To have something more for us than this [Post-Chorus] Hey, yeah, yeah, yeah (So I make this wish) Hey, yeah, yeah, yeah, ah-ah (To have something more) More than this, oh-ah-ah-ah [Outro] So I make this wish To have something more for us than this!

Thank You For Reading!

#disney wish #wish 2023 #wish star #wish movie #wish rewrite #wish asha #wish disney #disney #asha x star boy #Asha wish #song lyrics #wish reimagined

[hot-take-tournament]

note: this take actually adresses some sensitive topics, including some that i didn't know how to tag, but may require content warnings - so just be careful

also, i had to post this early because for some reason tumblr kept deleting this specific post every time it was queued or saved as a draft

HOT TAKE TOURNAMENT

TOURNAMENT OVERTIME #182

Submission 527

the Barbie movie (2023) was horrible

[SUBMITTED JUSTIFICATION UNDER THE CUT - PLEASE READ]

Propaganda is encouraged!

Also, remember to reblog your favourite polls for exposure!

Submitted justification:

unfortunately this is a dead serious take of mine. that movie was a story of a horrible tragedy portrayed as justice. and the subtle violent radfem undertones were deeply uncomfortable. my reasons for disliking it are very complicated and personal, so I'm going to try and keep this brief and try to avoid saying anything too charged.

i understand liking it— it was a very fun movie! the way they did the practical effects and props and setting were all genius and very cool!

but.. the way they handled Ken and his struggles felt extremely minimizing, cruel, and violent. I've *been* the reject kid before. I *know* what that's like. I've been humiliated and degraded before for being too much, for having ADHD, for being autistic, for wanting to be included in friend groups that didn't want me.

ken's story is a *tragedy* of a person who dared to ask for love and inclusion, who dared to ask over and over until the only option left to him was to be made into a villain for it. and instead of realizing that maybe, just maybe, this was a cry for help... that maybe, this was the last straw in a long long long line of instances of horribly cruel social bullying and humiliation.... that maybe Ken never wanted to hurt anyone, that maybe he just wanted everyone to see how much he was hurting, that maybe he never wanted power or violence, but empathy instead.... instead of considering any of at, the movie has Barbie and her friends *laugh* at his suffering, and watch him on the brink of tears with the grim satisfaction of a bully that got away with it.

i came away from this movie thinking, what should Ken have done better to avoid this? what could he have done to be truly accepted? what was the "good" choice, if what he actually chose was actually so evil?

and the answer is, nothing. he was spending his entire life serving and worshipping a group that wanted him quiet, polite, and dead. from personal experience, this is the kind of friend group that would probably find it at best a personal irritant, if he had attempted suicide.

this movie was so hurtful. it really felt like they said "people like you are better off dead or behaving like perfect mindless dolls, because when you try to get what you want, you just bother the people around you." conform or else.

i know people get icky when people claim that misandry exists, but.... consider the plot of this same movie, if ken had been one of barbie's girl friends. or if ken had been a trans girl. or hell, even a trans girl egg. i just see people only praising this movie and... no one seems to acknowledge how unnecessarily, brutally cruel they were to Ken, and how little empathy he received both from the general audience and from the writers and Barbie herself.

#barbie #hot take tournament #barbie 2023 #the barbie movie #barbie spoilers #barbie movie 2023 #barbie the movie #tournament poll #tumblr poll #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #unpopular opinion #hot take #barbie movie #hot take overtime #cw suicide #ken #barbie ken

[felinecryptid]

A Phone Call Away

this is just goldenpunk fluff idk what else to tell you, there's no plot to this

“Hi,” Pav whispered, as soon as the call connected.

“‘ello,” Hobie hummed. “Wha’ are ya’ upto?”

“Nothing, I’m just out getting some groceries. Auntie sent me out and told me not to come back, until I find the brand of tea she likes,”  Pav smiled and Hobie could feel the sun shining on his face. Then he frowned. “Are you still in bed?” 

Hobie laughed. ”I was readin’ a book,” He said, holding up 1984.

“Gadhe. Tell me you've eaten something, at least,” Pav shook his head, putting a bag of potatoes in his cart.

“Ate some leftover chips, luv’, don’t worry about it.”

“I am going to worry, it’s like 2 in the afternoon at yours, and you’re still in bed. I’m not even there to cook you something.” Pav whined. Hobie felt something warm curl up in his chest.

“Awwh, babe, you love me?”

“Of course, janemann, I love you so much.”  Pav held up a pack of tiny biscuits Hobie recognised to be ‘little hearts’. “I would literally kill to kiss you right now.”

“I’d die to kiss ya’.”

“Yeah.” Pavi stared at something off camera, doing some calculations with his unoccupied hand. “Hey, do you think I should get the family pack for 150 rupees or buy two 4-packs of maggi at 160?” He turned to the camera, showing a yellow pack of noodles to Hobie.

“I don't even know the difference,” said Hobie, finally getting up from his bed, looking for the copper water bottle Pav had bought for him.

Pav hummed, “I’m getting the two 4 packs,” He dumped the said items into his cart. “Should I get schezwan chutney for you?”

“The red spicy one? Oh fuck yea’ ov' course,” He said, watching the shirt ride up Pav’s shirt as he reached for the sauce on the top shelf. “It too high for you, shona?” Hobie asked, seeing the predictable blush rise up Pav's face at the hindi pet name. He loved it when Hobie tried and butchered hindi.

“Jaanu, you know I'm in public. I can't respond like I want to, that's so unfair.”

“I know, mere subah ki kiran,” He said, voice raspy, words feeling unusually rounded yet familiar.

“Hobie!”

Hobie laughed. He could see the deep, almost-maroon blush high on Pav’s cheeks. 

“Have you been learning from Gayatri again?” Pav asked, voice accusatory, and a sparkle in his eyes.

“I'm not gunna conform o' deny tha',” Hobie finally found the bottle under the bed, and drained it.

“I love you so much, you ass.”

“I love ya too. Wha' time is it at yours now?”

“Around eight pm, why do you ask?”

“I thought we’d eat together, you could have dinner early and I'd’ve a late brekkie.”

“It’s a late lunch at this point,” Pav scolded. “But yes, I'd like that. What are we eating?

“Mac n' cheese?”

“You know that auntie would kill me if i told her that's my dinner.”

“Jus' tell her it's a snack.”

“You are the snack,” Pavi giggled, highly weird behaviour when in public, but Hobie liked the thought of them being disgustingly cute for everyone to see. Everyone to see their love. Everyone to see how important Pav is to him.

Another part begged him to hide Pav away bc what if his enemies hurt Pav to get at him?

Hobie shook his head, because what enemies did he have? He was a tattoo artist and Pav was a physics academic. It's not like they were fighting supervillains everyday.

Pav thought the head shaking was for his comment because he doubled down. “No you definitely are.” 

“Does tha' mean you wanna eat me instead ov' the mac n’ cheese?”

“No- I mean- Yes, but what the fuck Hobie, I’m literally at the supermarket, and yes I have earphones in, but-” Someone knocks into Pav.

Hobie recognised the glint of her earrings a moment before he heard her voice. “Oh my god, Pav! You didn't tell me you were back in India?”

“Gayatri! I'm sorry, I came back like 3 days ago, and I've been too busy with packing Maya auntie’s things, I literally forget to sleep,” Pav laughed.

“Sounds like an excuse, Pavitr Prabhakar, you little bitch. If you had let me know, I'd have helped you.”

“That's exactly why I didn't tell you, aren't you working on that new movie? With Ranveer Singh in it?”

“So what, I could make time? And what kind of friend would I be if I didn't help Maya auntie and you to pack her things- Where's she going by the way?”

“Oh, uh- she's moving to the UK, in with us.”

“Oh, she's leaving?”

“Yeah, Hobie and I thought it'd be better if she lived with us and UK has better resources aur sach bolun to unko mujhe apne paas hi rakhna hai.”

“Yeah that's good, I'm going to miss her, I'll miss you both,” Gayatri's voice seemed sad. “But now I've got an excuse to barge into your house.”

“Wasn't I reason enough?”

“You? yes. Hobie? yes. Dono saath mein? Nope, thank you I'm pretty sure I’d have to bleach my eyes.”

“Thats-”

“Shut it. Speaking of hobie, show me the ring?”

Hobie watched as Pav swapped hands, bringing up his left ring finger into view, a familiar ring shining under the harsh grocery store lights.

Gayatri muffled a squeal. Pav’s grin was so wide that Hobie thought it was bleeding off him to Gayatri and him because Hobie found himself smiling into the cabinets as he took out a box of pasta.

“Ohh! kitna pyaara hai! is that real moonstone?”

“Yeah, it's covered with a thin layer of artificial diamond, it's custom made.”

“I'm so jealous. if my next partner doesn't put in at least this amount of effort, i'm breaking up,” Gayatri shoved Pav gently.

“Hobie would love to hear that. Hey, Hobie, did you hear that?” Pav turned to Hobie gleefully, Gayatri butting into the frame with a delighted look.

“Hi Angrez, wasn't stealing Pav’s heart enough? You had to take Maya auntie too?”

“Oh you can’t hear him, take my other earbud.”

Gayatri takes it, sticking out a tongue at both of them.

“Hello guruji,  you are the one 'elpin' me charm them,” Hobie saluted her with the spoon he was using to scoop out salt.

“Oh my god you are so impossible, what's the status on the Kohinoor?”

“Still on the king's head, regrettably.”

“You promised to get it back if I let you have Pav-”

“Hey, am I a tradable commodity now?”

“-at this rate you have to return the entire British museum, including interest.”

“I'd gladly do tha' on its own.”

“I’m going to accompany Pav to yours to make sure you do just that. Okay, guys, you can get back to your mushiness. I need to get going.” Gayatri waved at him and handed Pav his earbud, disappearing out of frame.

Pav looked at him with a giddy smile “I saw you put pasta in water, what do you want to bet I can check this out and get a take out box in ten minutes?”

“Not one euro or a rupee, I know ya can, including Maya auntie’s favourite tea.”

“I already found it,” Pav held up a box and Hobie couldn't resist blowing a kiss.

“You're on then,” He said, holding up a bag of shredded mozzarella. “Let’s see who gets mac n’ cheese done first.”

___

Translation:

gadhe - you ass (but this is the animal ass)

janemann - love of my life (not exactly but close enough)

maggi - verrrryyy popular desi masala ramen noodles

copper infusion water is considered healthy hence the copper bottle

schezwan chutney - a chilli garlic paste its delicious idk the recipe

shona - gold/love

jaanu - my life

mere subah ki kiran - my morning sunshine

Ranveer Singh - famous actor

aur sach bolun to unko mujhe apne paas he rakhna hai - and to be honest, i want her to stay close to me

dono saath me - both of you together

kitna pyaara hai - its so cute

angrez - foreigner (of the english kind)

guruji - extremely respectful word for teacher (when i say extremely respectful i mean it)

kohinoor - famous diamond stolen from india during British Raj

A/N:

this took me forever to edit

i tried a different process of writing which was quicker to finish but took so long to edit iwndiedksndid but ill do this again bc i like this way much better

this fic was inspired by my parents shout out to them for doing long distance straight after marriage with a 1 year old (me) i could never

comment if ya want more bc they keep me alive

#pavitr prabhakar #chaipunk #hobie brown #hobie x pavitr #pavitr x hobie #across the spiderverse #goldenpunk #atsv #goldenpunk fanfic #chaipunk fanfic #day 2- far away/domestic #disgustingly domestic #gayatri singh #maya auntie mention #they were fiances #there's no substance to this its all fluff #goldenpunk ship week #goldenpunk fanfiction #this is inspired my parents #im not even kidding

[hwan-g]

DARLING. kim seungmin — 김승민

pair. bookshop owner! seungmin x f. reader | warnings. profanity, angst, unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex, slight exhibitionism | genre. dark academia, romance, love at first sight | word count. 8k

tags. @ughbehavior (@straywrds), @cb97percent, @j-0ne25, @hyuneater, @hyun-bun, @choigore, @danyxthirstae01, @hellishmoons, @lix-ables, @skz317cb97.

a/n. this was supposed to be out for his bday, but life happened. nevertheless, hope you guys enjoy!! reblogs are great, all writers appreciate them incredibly 🤍

synopsis. it hasn’t stopped raining for weeks. as you enter his life, as you walk out of it. he just needs one chance with you.

Cold, empty—wet.

A city devoid of sun, in a constant state of mourning. Century old buildings with their Victorian architecture and smell of humidity, the eternal reconstruction that makes it impossible to enter them, a church with no door, a river without bed, a shop with nothing to sell. They might as well be part of the scenery, now and forever. Occupied space and not much else.

There had been a point in time, though, and this is the part that’s important to Seungmin. There had been a time when these grand structures held great power over people—artists, especially. Endless sketches of the fabrications can be found in the Public Library, a place he used to visit quite frequently before he opened his business. Blueprints of the interior, books about the conformation and infrastructure going on and about continually, pages creating volumes, creating noteworthiness, establishing history.

He wonders if you’ll come today.

Kim Seungmin was born in Seoul, Korea on September twenty-first to a doctor mother and architect father. He strived tirelessly for most of his childhood and adolescent life for more than adequate grades, and a clean record, and when it was deemed appropriate, on the day after his seventeenth birthday, he left for London to join his sister at the University of Cambridge, an exemplary student with a bright future. He surprised everyone when instead of following in the footsteps of his parents and going for Medicine or Architecture, he chose Engineering with History of Art as his minor. A respectable career, granted, but not what he was supposed to do—not what had been predetermined for him.

Four years of nothing but rain, libraries, books, and dorm life, he’d finally graduated with Honors, and went to join the real world, with its many offers, all miserable and soul consuming. It didn’t take long for the masks to fall, the pretenses to seize. Seungmin was fucking over it, wanted nothing more to do with the path he’d led for all those years, nothing to do with his parents’ expectations, the appearances to be kept, the role he had to play, to maintain, so they can boast and gloat, and fill their bellies in their private fucking golf clubs, to their insufferable little friends with the pretty daughters, and the arranged marriages.

Yeah, fuck no.

What he did alternatively—he took a loan out. He opened a bookshop in Pimlico overlooking the Thames, and he never looked back. He lived with three roommates in a crammed-up apartment on Winchester Street, a tiny room with a twin bed, a desk and a refrigerator, until he was able to stand on his feet, and move somewhere nicer, somewhere private, and do not get him wrong, that took two entire years—years of learning the ropes of handling a business, of making orders, of studying his crowd and getting a feel of the area, and even then, sales weren’t booming, they weren’t even fucking flickering, till more café’s opened up, bringing people towards that part of the river, the hibernating one, with the sleepy tree branches looming over Seungmin’s head every time he walked to work. It was hard, being independent. But he did an excellent job hiding it, and after a while…well maybe he was just a natural pretender.

Eventually he got a bike. It was a used, secondhand thing, and he had to change the chain on it, but after that it worked just fine, so it was enough for him. With a ‘help wanted’ sign under his arm, pedaling the ten-minute ride to his shop, his only stop the local bakery where he purchases his warm cappuccinos and apple strudels every morning. The co-owner of the place, Han Jisung, always asks the same question upon arrival—the usual, then?

The usual. Seungmin was a creature of habit from a young age. He had to have a plan, an extensive list of steps to be taken, a routine. He thinks his life would’ve turned out completely different if he wasn’t like this; he would’ve ended up working a corporate job, a nine to five, sitting on a desk with a suit and tie, holding a briefcase, that kind of thing. Something simple, mind numbing. Instead, he chose the calendar, the extra assignments, the sleepless revisions. All which ended with him thousands of miles away, managing an establishment with no outside help. The point was—he needed to find someone immediately. He couldn’t possibly bear to manage everything on his own anymore, what with the seminars and people going in and out in a regular stream, only pausing for a couple hours at lunch time.

Sometimes, the strudel would go to waste. There’d be no time. Still, the usual. Why bother switching something that’s worked so well for so long?

“It’ll be raining for weeks, I heard. Better get yourself a raincoat if you want to keep riding that rusty bike of yours,” his friend advised him, handing him his order with a tight-lipped smile.

Seungmin mirrored his expression. “Will do, mate. Thanks for this.”

“No problem. Hey, don’t forget—you, me, the guys. Friday evening. Drinks at The Morpeth Arms.”

Here’s the thing. Seungmin never forgot, he wasn’t the forgetful type; in fact, he had a spectacular memory, something that helped him immensely during his academic career, and earned him a few nods of amazement, the casual ‘memory of an elephant, this one.’ No, Seungmin just hated social events, especially the ones that included drinking yourself into a stupor, traveling in packs holding on for dear life, and paying an enormous amount of money just for your liver to turn black later on. He’d rather be at home, eating comfort soup, watching his home country’s drama shows, and falling asleep on the couch, glasses inadvertently positioned on the very tip of his nose, every single time.

Yeah, Seungmin never forgot. He just had other things to do. Something warned him though, that he might not be able to get out of this one. Undeniably so. He’s bailed on his friend group more than two times in a row, had no good excuse for it today.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he replied, waving a quick goodbye, and making a run for it.

“Don’t just see, Kim Seungmin. Do!” he heard the boy yelling after him, but he had already passed the threshold of the bakery, securing his things in the basket on the front of the bike.

Jisung was a force to be reckoned with. Same age as him, of Korean descent as well, a graduate of the Royal Academy of Culinary Arts, he took over his mother’s bakery and revamped the entire place, a smart move, which turned out to work in his favor, tripling the monthly profits in the first six months of reopening. Things seemed to just…go well for him, whatever he did, something Seungmin envied, but tried his hardest to learn from. It's always been him, Seungmin, and Hyunjin, an Art major, currently in his last year of school, ever since he came to England. Jisung had an ex-girlfriend attending Education classes at the same university as the bookshop owner, and Hyunjin would tag along only with the promise that he’d be able to stay in the premises and sketch the gardens.

Eccentric at times, the two of them, but the interesting kind, the kind that makes you want to stick around just to witness where it is all heading. Although they could get quite annoying when they wanted to…

He unlocks the wooden door with the glass pane, the intense smell of books hitting him at once. Moving in the familiar area, he makes sure to secure his bike along the wall, so it doesn’t slip and hurt any customers, and goes to turn on the lights from the panel in the back, resting his breakfast on top of the checkout secretaire.

The small bookshop lights up like a tree at Christmas, the fairy lights he’d installed earlier in the year hanging gracefully amongst the bookshelves running from floor to ceiling, stacks upon stacks decorating each section, all alphabetized and in categories, all carrying a purpose. Seungmin fixes his glasses on his face, running a careful hand through his parted hair, before removing his brown coat, rolling the sleeves of his white, crisp shirt high up on his forearms, and getting to work.

There’s a sort of ambience he particularly enjoys, a specific scent to accompany the unique odor of books, of yellowed out pages or alternately, of freshly published novels, recently sewn together, a big section of them in front of the big window as soon as you enter, with an exclusive segment of Seungmin’s Top Ten Picks of the Month. More lights along the walls, lantern looking designs, made specifically to give off a vintage overtone to his business, and a couple velvet armchairs in the corners, with decent sized tables, and candles on each side to provide a moment of relaxation for the customers.

Cinnamon and vanilla. A tiny tea and coffee cart next to his workspace for anyone that cared for it, always filled and ready to be taken advantage of. When Seungmin cared for something, he took it to the absolute extremes, made it part of him entirely, took care of it tenderly, tended to it regularly. This is why, he thinks, he succeeded in marketing this place. Because it isn’t just a means of income for him, because he’s genuinely a book lover, an avid reader. Because this is the inside of his soul, perfect to a T.

He starts the playlist on his tablet, lowers it to a gentle hum, and stands for a minute, taking in the warm palette of colors around him, sipping on his coffee, tasting the apple wrapped in puff pastry. It’s exquisite, as always, Han really has a fucking talent, he thinks as he peals the sticker off the sign he picked up from the printer shop earlier, sticking it on the storefront window, capital black letters in Times New Roman looking outside.

Hopefully, someone will show up within the week. In the case no one’s interested, well—he’s fucked. No plan B there. He counts on the broke students pacing up and down these streets daily to fill in the position. No one else in their right mind would work at a bookshop, of all places of employment, and for that he won’t dare fault them, not one bit. He can pay a fair wage, but it’s nothing to start a proper life, he’s aware of that. It doesn’t change the fact.

A little after ten, it starts raining; the fat, gray clouds he saw looming over him on his way there, finally giving way to fat droplets of water, drenching everything in their wake, a blurry watercolor painting. Seungmin sighs, leaning back on his chair, as he checks off inventory and researches up-and-coming authors to feature for next month. He accepts that it might be a slow day, and gets comfortable in his seat, yawning and stretching his limbs.

You enter in disarray, dripping water everywhere, closing a bright colored umbrella halfway in your attempt to shut the door behind you. The tote bag is the first thing he notices, it looked heavy on your shoulder, worn down. Then your coat, a deep emerald green, an entire forest, how it looks from above, and then finally your face as you turn to him, your expression bewildered, staring down at him like a deer in headlights, slightly confused, but not lost, not entirely.

There you are.

“Good morning,” he greets, no other words present in his brain. How peculiar. He adds a soft smile, for good measure.

Normal. Nice job, Kim Seungmin.

“Dreadful, isn’t it?” you say, and he guesses you refer to the rain, so he nods, watching you observe his establishment with curious eyes, leaving your umbrella behind as you walk over to the bookshelves. “It smells nice here. Are you the owner?”

Seungmin stirs, stands up straight, his tablet forgotten in his hands. “Yes,” he mutters, doesn’t sound sure of it. “Yes, I am,” he repeats, louder this time.

You hum and disappear behind a row. He finds himself leaning to find you again, stare at you a bit longer. He snaps out of it almost immediately, clearing his throat. Three things, he grounds himself.

One, the beautiful girl from last time had just entered his shop, yet it felt more like she’d shook through the foundations of the building and was coming for his very life.

Two, said pretty girl rendered him stupid two seconds in your interaction. What did that say about him as a person? He wasn’t usually like this. He’s had dates, and girlfriends, but they never felt like this—a blow to his stomach.

Three. He absolutely fucking needed to learn your name.

“Are you looking for anything specific?” he asks, nervous, wanting to cut through the tension he felt overtaking his entire body.

“Mythology classics!” your voice is an echo, a perfect ring of a pitch, reverberating through him.

He gets up at once, jumping at the chance to be useful to you, and crosses the shop, closing the distance between you. You’re skimming through a thick book unrelated to what you’ve just told him, your eyes moving on the pages. He doesn’t dare disturb you, not at first, but then the more he looks at you, the more he can feel his heart attempting to jump out of his fucking chest, so he deems it dangerous business, and breaks the silence. Your hair is wet, he finds, he sees. He wants to dry it for you.

Dangerous fucking business.

“Those would be on the other side, after poetry,” he informs you, and your gaze devastates him. It’s bright, it’s glorious, it’s a place he’d want to explore, dive into, and lose himself forever.

 It’s looking up at him, waiting for him to lead the way. He blinks and moves. Your perfume is something light and floral and Seungmin wants to offer you coffee with sugar, give you books for half off, hire you part time, let you consume him. What a strange feeling to have for an absolute stranger, serving your heart on a silver platter over a mere ‘hello,’ and hoping they’ll accept it.

It terrifies the living shit out of him.

“Thank you for showing me. I loved this place when I came last time—I thought you just worked here. It’s hard to find what I’m looking for elsewhere,” you give him an excited smile, bending at the knees in front of the small section to pick out what you need.

He wants to know everything about you. “Are you a student?”

“English lit, fourth year. Aha!” you jump up, and Seungmin steps back, surprised. You wave the paperback cover in his face. “The Oresteia. Need to write a dissertation on it.”

Seungmin speaks as if in a trance, quoting the play he knows by heart. “‘This was always going to happen. She’s been dead since the beginning.’”

You’re beaming, buzzing, electrocuting him. Then you go right back down, your search not over yet. “You’d read this? It is quite extensive, is it not, and you need to watch out for the translations, some are over complicated, and hard to understand…”

“I enjoy the classics,” he admits, shyly. “You’re welcome anytime around here. To browse, or…whatever. And if you can’t find something, let me know. I’ll order it for you.”

“You’re too kind, bookshop owner, aren’t you?”

Seungmin stares, stares, stares—at the top of your head, at your elegant hands reaching for the spines of the books, flipping them over, inspecting them. He prided himself on his eloquence, his extensive knowledge of words, his friends sometimes teased him, called him a ‘walking dictionary,’ but what does he do with all this, when he must force his throat to open, unable to voice those same words he’s studied over the years, grown familiar with. They’re all traitors to him now, he will never depend on them again. Ridiculous, what’s happening.

You’re a customer. He shouldn’t be treating you any more than, any different. Why then did that one, singular smile of yours make a home in him, right under his ribcage? He pictured butterflies erupting behind you, wild in color, beautiful in their movement, flying too close to the fairy lights. This was unreasonable. It would wreak havoc in him, rearrange his world view, have him fantasize about things that could not be, should not be. Your lips, he thinks.

Cherry flavored.

“What’s your name?” he caved in. He wanted to pull you up, feel you under his touch, see for himself if you were real.

You got up once again, two more books in your hands, as you tilted your head in question, strands of hair falling in front of your perplexed face. “Do you always ask your customers for their names?”

Seungmin swallowed. He’d been caught. What he had—honesty. “Only you.”

You smiled again. He almost clenched his chest. “Good save. I’m (Y/N).”

He repeated it internally. (Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N) …he imagines it rolling off his tongue, your body under his, those delicate wrists pinned above your head, whispering it to you again, and again, and again.

Fuck him.

“Seungmin,” he extends his hand for you to take, trying really hard to conceal what contact with you would do to him.

He’s defenseless against his own desires, he realizes. He’s never wanted to take someone as his own so badly before. His mind was in overdrive, completely overwhelmed. You’ve exposed him, laid him bare—have your way with him. He’d do anything, he decides right then and there. Anything. Say the word and he’s yours.

You take it, kickstarting a whole new series of events and catastrophes inside him.

“Well, Seungmin, I’m done here, and I have class in about ten minutes, but I’ll pass by again soon, yeah? Ring me up, won’t you?”

You brush past him walking up to the register, and he’s left watching your figure slip away from him, so easily, no further regard to him, that forest green coat of yours flowing around you, your boots stomping with certainty. A fucking vision, you were. Stomping your way into his shop, into his life, into his heart. Oh, what is reason? What are words?

Metamorphoses, The Oresteia, Theogony. What you purchase. He hands you the books, per your request, and you slide the tote bag down to your arm, shoving the books in there at once. He watches all this, in awe, speechless, afraid to let you go, knowing he can’t beg you to stay longer. It’d be weird. And slightly creepy, he thinks but it’s more of an afterthought. He notices he doesn’t really care—anyone that would grant him the wish to stare at you more, to marvel at your cute features.

“It was nice to meet you!” You grab the umbrella again and rush out of his life, the same you stumbled in.

He watches in mystified delight.

‘Water is not a solid wall, it will not stop you. But water always goes where it wants to go, and nothing in the end can stand against it. Water is patient,’ he remembers reading once.

He becomes half water. He waits.

Friday comes. Seungmin decides to go to the Arms, straight for them, no second thought about it, one and done, but then he procrastinates getting dressed, looks for his watch for ten minutes, and his keys are nowhere to be found, so he takes that as a sign he shouldn’t go. It’d be bad if he went. He shouldn’t go.

Then he remembers he doesn’t believe in the signs of the universe and locks his apartment behind him.

Two beers, then he’ll go home, he tells himself. Just enough so his friends can’t say anything to him, can’t be mad at him, will stop calling him incessantly, whining about how he’s neglecting them so, and what kind of a mate are you, Kim, not a very good one, eh?

Seungmin thinks he’s a pretty good lad, actually. He helped Hyunjin move this past summer and has offered many a solution to Jisung’s never-ending on-and-off relationship with that indecisive girlfriend of his. Hasn’t committed a crime in his life, not even a petty one, not a traffic light. He’s never littered in all the years he’s been conscious about his person. He’s been an upstanding citizen, and a supportive friend. He’s just a bit of a homebody, and when has that ever hurt anyone, really.

The pub is filled to the brim by the time he arrives, incredibly loud, with a game playing in the background. He finds Jisung easy enough and goes to him, to that table he frequents all the way to the wall by the bar and slips his coat off wearing it on the back of the chair.

“Couldn’t have picked a Sunday, yeah?”

Jisung claps his shoulder and shakes his head. “You’d complain about any day of the week, Min, so just sit here and look pretty like you do. Hyunjin’s bringing us drinks.”

The baker’s hair had faded to a light brown from the August sun back in Seoul, his yearly vacation, and just as Seungmin is about to make a joke about it, Hyunjin enters his vision holding three pints of beer, muttering excuse me’s to the table next to them. Blonde hair, soft looking cardigan, tall, long limbs and all, full scholarship artist-to-watch-out-for Hwang Hyunjin, on his way to an amazing career.

“Would you look at who the cat dragged in—my God, Kim Seungmin, is that really you? Gracing us with your majesty’s presence? I must be dreaming!”

His ‘majesty’ sighed and grabbed the beer, an unamused look on his face. “You know, surprisingly, this isn’t making me want to show up any more than it makes me want to dump both of you and find new friends. About time, I say,” he drawled. “Cheers!”

The two men looked at each other and burst out laughing. “Cheers, fuck it,” Jisung exclaimed.

Hyunjin turned elegantly in the chair, legs crossed, mischievous expression on. “What have you been up to, huh? Who’s the girl?”

Seungmin froze, then reassured himself they had no idea about you, and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose—a habit that gave him away. The blonde ‘aha!’’d and bumped his elbow against Jisung’s, giddy as ever.

“See, I knew it.”

Jisung didn’t look particularly convinced, though. “Where would he even meet a girl, Hyun? The only dates he’s been on for the past year have been with his TV.”

“Ouch, bro.”

He wasn’t wrong, yet Seungmin wanted to let him know—about the girl that walked into his bookshop, has swept him off his feet. Just so he stops talking shit, just so it can finally set on him; that you’re real, that you happened. How you will never stop happening from now on.

Instead, he scoffed. “Fuck you, Han. You’re one to talk with that toxic shit you’re pulling.”

Jisung had the audacity to look shocked, and even appalled at the accusation. “I’m hurt you think I’m somehow at fault with how I’m being treated. I should just break it off once and for all, show you fuckers.”

Hyunjin casually sipped on his beer, palmed a few sunflower seeds. “It’s not about showing us—it’s about showing yourself, baby.”

Seungmin chuckled at that, chuckled even harder at Jisung’s blown out face, with the puffy cheeks and the big, wide eyes. He’d missed this, how carefree it all felt. It brought back memories, reasons why these people were close to him, why he could never get rid of them. They kept him sane. And gained him points with the ladies—Jisung’s humor, and Hyunjin’s angel features were a double threat. He just completed the group with the boy next door vibe, and sharp styling choices.

“Where’s Jeongin?” he asks, opening the bag of crisps laid out on the table.

“Late night studying, he’s already driving himself against a wall,” Hyunjin replies, a seed between his teeth.

“Chris has a late session, as well,” Jisung adds. “Music majors—perfectionists.”

It was at that point that you walked in. Seungmin hadn’t noticed you, not until his friends looked towards the door, and then looked again, making him curious. It was indeed you, he concluded after blinking several times, you, the most beautiful fucking girl in there, searching for empty tables with—a guy. A guy taller than you, taller than him, and fuck him, he didn’t need to see that, he didn’t have to know who you hung out with, if you had a boyfriend and how long you’d been together—he could do without all those things.

But now they’re overtaking all available space in his mind. Now there’s green inside him, eating away, molding, rotting away everything, and he’s jealous, he’s jealous, he wants you, he wants you alone, single, to himself, forever—

“She’s cute, no?” Jisung comments and nudges him.

For a moment, just for a moment, Seungmin takes off his glasses and glares at his best friend, filled with fury and green, green, green, but then he comes to his senses, reasons that Jisung hasn’t got a clue who you are, what you are to Seungmin, and so with that he breathes. He breathes and downs his beer, fuck the crisps, fuck the plan.

“It’s her,” he confesses.

Hyunjin leans in, suddenly very interested, and Jisung furrows his eyebrows, clearly confused. “What do you mean?”

Seungmin looks at you again, sees the hand around your waist, the casualness of the movement, and doesn’t want to jump into conclusions, doesn’t want the conclusions to jump him, but he’s fairly certain, he’s almost a hundred percent—

“The girl that’s kept me away, let’s say.”

At first, “No fucking way,” but then Hyunjin studied his friend’s expression, the unwavering gaze, the set of his mouth, the defeated slump of his shoulders, and his head tilted, his own mouth hung open, stared.

“I’ll be fucking damned,” he deadpanned.

“But who’s that dude, then?” Jisung questioned, hanging off the edge of his seat, thirsty for the gossip.

“No idea.”

“How’d you meet her?”

“Customer.”

“Kim Seungmin!” Hyunjin gasps, a hand on his chest, over his heart. “The scandal!”

Jisung rolls his eyes. “Don’t listen to him. Is she aware of your feelings?”

Just as Seungmin was about to answer, the entire pub breaks out in boo’ing, the team on the TV losing dramatically, the place vibrating, and his fists tighten at the sound, his whole body alert, aware of you, in the same space as him, outside of the magic of his bookstore, outside of the owner/customer dynamic.

“I’ve only seen her twice, Han. My feelings don’t even make sense to me.”

A devilish smirk spread across the blonde’s face. “I think you want to fuck her, Min. This sounds like an attraction to me.”

Jisung slaps his hand on the table and points at his face, nodding his head. “That’s an excellent observation, my dear Hyun. Kim, you just need to get her out of your system.”

Seungmin groans and gets up, grabbing his empty glass of beer. “Shut the fuck up. Anyone need a refill?”

The men glance at each other’s half empty beers, slightly concerned. “We’re good, mate.”

The truth was, he had thought about the possibility. What he’s felt for you he hasn’t felt for anyone, not this strong, not this constant, even in your absence, especially in your absence. You should’ve been just another English literature student shopping for books to him. That should’ve been it.

It wasn’t. It didn’t feel like it could be.

Waiting for the beer, he dared a peek at you. You sat with your back facing him, your head thrown back at something that guy had said, the other members of your party smiling brightly at you. Your hair was down, moved with you. Seungmin could bring your scent forth in his mind, the flowers, the sweetness that surrounded you. It physically hurt to ignore you, to pretend this wasn’t killing him. He needed more, he needed to pull you away, he needed to vomit all this out; the attraction, as Hyunjin eloquently put it, the heart stabbing, the turning of his stomach—the fucking boner he got first time he saw you in that dainty dress of yours.

He needed you to know, to make a decision. He wouldn’t sit still, there’d be no sleep for him until he did something about it, until you were aware of this, whatever the fuck it was, also.

“I’ll come back for this,” he informs the bartender, and his feet carry him before he’s even concluded thinking about it before he even sets on it.

“Excuse me,” he says loudly. The entire table turns to him. You turn to him.

“Bookshop owner!” you grin at him, and he’s at ease at once. He doesn’t need anything else. “What a coincidence. How have you been?”

You’re kind, then, you don’t shun him away. He’s chosen well. Seungmin feels his heart blooming, expanding, threatening to take over. You’re kind to him. You don’t know him, not as well as he wanted you to, but you still chose decency. Did he deserve it with the thoughts currently swimming in his head? Probably not.

He spares one glance for the hunk of a guy sitting opposite you, only one, not more than that, because he might be half his size, but Seungmin had always been exceptionally strong whenever he deemed it necessary. Then his eyes are back on you, and God, why did he ever look away?

“I’ve been well,” he touches his glasses. Catches himself. “Could I please steal you for a moment?”

Your eyes widen a bit, hands holding the table, ready to pounce on your feet. “Sure, but why? Is everything okay?”

Seungmin nods, offering you a soft smile and his hand. “Everything’s fine. It’ll only be a moment.”

“Okay,” you turn to your friends. Seungmin looks at his, already staring at him. Hyunjin winks. Seungmin blinks.

“I’ll be back guys.” You grab his hand, bringing him back, setting him on fire.

He tries to hide, push it all down, away from you, because he needs to be careful. One wrong move, he tells himself. One wrong move and that’s it. He opens the door for you, walks out after and into the chill of a September night. At least it’s quiet, at least he can hear himself think. One wrong move, it repeats, one wrong move…

“I apologize for taking you away from your friends,” he starts, walking to the side of the building to stand under a birch tree, almost completely devoid of leaves by that point. You follow, patient, kind.

“Oh, that’s—” you wave your hand, pft’ing. “They’re just classmates. We’ll be working together for a while.”

Just classmates. Seungmin stands up straight to that, in his full height. Just classmates you say, but that hand didn’t look friendly, that hand looked exactly how Seungmin feels about you, protective, territorial. You thought nothing of it, because that’s who you were, he could tell, you didn’t take things too seriously, you were alive, kind, kind, kind, what was another word—innocent.

He licked his lips, gathering the courage required to say what needed to be said, what needed to spill out his chest. He stood close, you stood closer. You were oblivious. For Heaven’s sake. This would be the hardest thing he ever had to utter.

“I—have no other way to say this, (Y/N) so, please just—fuck,” he chokes out a breath, looks you right in the eye. “I’m completely enamored by you. You have all control over this, you can curse me and walk away right now. But you need to know. I want to take you out.”

At first you just stared at him, the words slowly registering in your ears. Then, you opened your mouth to speak—closed it. Then opened it again, taking a step towards him. He remained in his place, hands in his pockets, afraid he’d reach out otherwise. He had no right, not until you gave him permission.

“You’re very handsome, you know that?” you say, placing a hand on his cheek. He doesn’t breathe, he doesn’t think. Your eyes are dark against the backdrop of the moon. Nothing moves. “And sweet, and interesting. I’m—nothing in particular. Seungmin, you’d get bored of me.”

“Never,” he’s quick to retort. “You’ve no idea what you’ve done to me, have you darling? From the moment you walked in my shop—that was it. I was done for.”

You shook your head, your fingers stilling in their caress, your hand goes to drop—his own shoots out, holds it, keeps it there, wills it to stay, desperate to show you.

“You really are very sweet,” you inhale. “No one’s ever said they want to take me out. No one’s asked.”

Seungmin doesn’t understand why, doesn’t want to ponder over it. He’s here now, and he wants you. He’d show you; he swears.

“I’m saying it. Go out with me, darling. If you hate it, you don’t have to see me ever again.”

You smile at that, your lips quivering. “Shame. I really like your bookstore.”

He smiles back. “I really like you.”

You bite your lip, and then you nod. “Okay.” A moment. “Could you kiss me, Seungmin?”

He needn’t be told twice. Pulling you closer by that arm extended on him, he closes in around you, smashing your lips together. It takes everything in him not to groan into your mouth, the softness of you, your smell, all driving him crazy, all intoxicating him, rendering him unable to think straight. You melt into him, something he loves, and he guides the kiss, his arms wrapping around that waist that he’s seen being claimed, bunching the fabric of your shirt in his fist, tightening his grip around you, devouring you.

He'd like to slip inside you, fuck slow, deep strokes into your cunt, bring you into a state of deliriousness with his cock. He can already imagine how good you’d take him, how you’d open for him. Buried in between his thighs—Heaven. Seungmin walks you to the bark of the tree and pushes you against it, deepening the kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips, exploring your mouth, tasting the ale you’d been drinking. He’s having incoherent thoughts now, nonsensical things; how he’d like to drink you, let the very flavor of you invade the top of his mouth, fill his senses, allow you to run down his throat, sip into his every pore. Fuck him, he’s whipped, isn’t he?

“There’s no going back from this, darling,” he pants against your mouth. “I’m never getting over you—never getting over this taste.”

You pull him back in. “I don’t want you to,” you whisper, your lips curving.

“Sunday, after six. Come,” he mutters, his fingers tangled in your hair, holding your head in place. You gaze up at him. “Promise me.”

“I do. I promise,” you kiss him again. “I’ll come.” Again, and again, and again.

Another day spent waiting.

By noon Seungmin thinks you won’t show. That it was all a lie, perhaps an illusion of the full moon and one too many drinks. Then he checks out a freshman buying The Iliad, a tote bag on his shoulder, the warm scent of cinnamon coming from the pale cup he’s holding, and he’s sure you will.

You happened, you will.

Oh, to trust that someone won’t drain the blood from your heart. A treacherous road.

He must’ve drank three cups of coffee by the time the stream of customers slows down, signaling lunch time. He digs for the wanted pamphlet in his drawer of take-out menus, and calls the number at once, ordering a barbeque chicken pizza with a side of cheesy bread. As he glances outside, clouds gathering already, the sky gray, dull, Seungmin throws his head back, sighing deeply, and listens to the cashier informing him of his total at the point of delivery.

“Thank you,” he says and hangs up. ‘Do you know if she’ll come,’ he wants to add, but he doesn’t, because that’d be crazy, nonsensical. Still, the question—it stands.

He breaks down boxes, organizes book labels and invoices, and even dusts the shelves. Five pizza slices and a heartburn later, Seungmin sinks back into his chair, and decides that time will not help him today. The anxiety is eating at him, at the tips of him, like a parasite, slowly making him sick, feverish. He won’t be able to keep this up for long, he wishes he’d told you to come earlier, maybe this way this endless questioning would’ve stopped by now, maybe the heartbreak would’ve been easier to swallow with people around. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle closing down shop with no trace of you.

God, the waiting. Seungmin doesn’t like doing this, has only done it once before–he takes the scotch out, a bottle he’s kept since opening this place, and drinks two big gulps of it. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he thinks he might have to daydrink his way to getting you out of his mind. And the rejection. And the outline of your body on his. No other way about it. Alcohol or going mad, his two options. 

Fuck him.

The clock on the wall behind his desk says five minutes to six. By that point he has no hope, no patience, no heart, no will–no scotch. He drags himself over to the door to flip the sign from ‘open’ to ‘closed,’ and he leaves nothing but the fairy lights on, an indication that the shop is closed, but someone’s still inside.

He’s not drunk but he’d like to be. One thing about Seungmin, why he doesn’t like drinking–it does nothing for him. His damn tolerance is too high. He can drink and drink and drink, but it will make no difference. Only thing he’ll be left with is a dehydrated, scratchy throat; more of an annoyance than a relief.

Seungmin sweeps, mops, then proceeds to put every single book in the wrong area back to its original place. That should take him a good while, he thinks, definitely–it doesn’t. It takes him ten minutes, because this is his store, he knows it inside out, he’s done this hundreds of times before, and why aren’t you here? You should’ve been here by now.

The glasses come off. He won’t go down that road, he can handle rejection, he’ll move on, you’re just–well, you’re…unforgettable. Haunting. All he can think about, all he wants, all he craves. Outside is pouring, thunder cracking, always a blurry watercolor painting now describing what’s going on internally, draining away any opportunity of you showing up. He tells himself he’ll stay until the rain calms down, until it’s safe to ride his bicycle.

He tells himself he will never get over you, but that the water will eventually wash you away. It has to. It’s six-thirty and you are nowhere to be found. A little more. He’ll wait a little more. Out of desperation if nothing else. He won’t be afraid to admit. He kissed you, he tasted you. He’ll wait. You’ll come, you have to. You kissed back. You–

You’re standing right there. Drenched, shaking that god awful umbrella, looking through the glass, pushing the door open–spilling into his bookshop like nothing happened. Like before. Like a story repeating itself. Forest green coat, hair sticking to your face, disheveled expression.

“I’m late, aren’t I?”

Are you? Seungmin’s knees almost give way. He exhales shakily, blinking at your drowned figure. You’re not. You’re not. You’re right on time.

“You’re soaking wet,” he notes, and comes back to life, taking long strides towards you.

You chuckle nervously, shivering, apologetic. He grabs the umbrella and leaves it by his bike, his hand staying in yours, tracing your fingers, feeling for himself that you’re really there, that you really came. You look up at him, wide eyed, mouth falling open, studying him.

“Better take this off,” he mutters, and waits for your approval. He removes the coat from your shoulders, shaking off the rain droplets, catching a whiff of that cologne he so adores. He’s a fucking animal, he can’t even be near you without his mind doing a complete one eighty on him.

“I’m sorry,” you start, watching him take care of you. “I…wasn’t sure if I should come.” His hands push your hair back, listening calmly. “Bookshop owner, I don’t–”

“Seungmin,” he cuts you off, his gaze snapping down to meet yours. “Say my name, darling.”

“Seungmin.” It’s breathless, it’s surprising. It’s perfect. His cock twitches in his tailored pants.

He bites his lip. “Will you let me remove your shirt, (Y/N)? You’ll catch a cold if you stay in these clothes.”

A single moment of silence, your eyes clouding with the same intentions. “Yes.”

He expertly undoes the buttons, exposing your white, lacy bra underneath, your breasts deliciously tucked in the cups, better than his dreams, better in every way because it’s reality. Seungmin wants to take his time with you, wants to take you out on a proper date, pay for you, make sure you’re having fun, that you enjoy being with him, establish a connection before he–

He thinks he can’t wait. He thinks if he doesn’t take you right here, right now he’ll fucking die. None of the internal struggle shows on his face. You wiggle off your shirt, and he lifts his arms to remove his vest. Picturing you in his clothes, in his shop, surrounded by your smell, and the smell of vanilla…a fucking dream. His Aphrodite, compliant under his touch, willing, those lips teasing, their pink tint inviting. Fuck it all to Hell. You look absolutely beautiful, the brown of the fuzzy fabric making you appear softer, if that’s even possible. He pulls you into his arms, falling victim to his own wants, his own desires. He holds you tight, your freezing body gradually warming up under his caress, flush against him.

“‘I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself,’” he quotes in your hair, his palm rubbing circles on your lower back, hoping you’d know. That you’d get it.

“Frank Kafka,” you answer with a breathy laugh. “‘What’s happened to me? It was no dream.’”

Something opens in his heart, tears itself out. There’s no stopping it. “My darling,” he whispers, and lifts you up. You gasp, his name falling from those lips. It happens fast, he walks you to the mythology section, in front of the window, a consequence he won’t think of until later, your back hitting the shelves, as your arms circle his neck. Seungmin kisses you, then. What’s there left to do? There are no words to describe this. You taste like rain and hard candy, and his fingers get lost in between your thighs, pushing aside fabric, and feeling the slick of your cunt. All reason escapes him, all but the sensation of your excitement for him on his digits. He kneels down, has to have a taste, needs to, for his sanity. His arm snakes around your ass and keeps you there, as his tongue comes in contact with your leaking pussy, lapping your juices, slurping loudly, shamelessly.

The back of your hand presses against your mouth, moans tearing through anyway. No one’s ever gone down on you, you didn’t even know how it felt, nevermind that it felt like this, wet and embarrassing, but so good, oh my God, so good, fuck, your fingers getting lost in the mop that is his hair, tugging, your breathing ragged, fast, your knees shaking, the smell of books engulfing you–

“You taste like Heaven,” he grunts, and his tongue gets replaced by his hand, as he makes his way back to your mouth. “Taste yourself, darling, see for yourself what you do to me, how am I supposed to stay away when–that’s right, fuck my fingers, go on, my love…”

There’s still water dripping from your hair, and he leans the side of his face on it, enjoying the coolness it provides while his entire body is on fire. You’re everywhere on him, he feels all of you, and his fingers curl inside you wanting that release, craving those broken moans he’s eliciting out of you to get louder, to deafen him, to fill the entire shop and stay, echoing over and over so he never forgets this moment, so he’ll always have you. You’re biting his neck, your nails digging on his shoulders, in his back, falling, going to his belt, coming to the buckle, undoing, all the while coming undone.

Right before you start spasming, he lifts you up again and slips inside you swiftly, cupping your face with one hand, his mouth taking yours in an open-mouthed kiss, cursing at how tight you fit around him. For one second, just one single moment, he does not move, no matter how much you want him to, no matter how you’re wiggling and arching, against all of his thoughts of fucking you into the bookcase to have and admire you whenever he wants. No, he marvels in the way his cock is throbbing inside you, all of you alight, in flames, and only then–only when you mouth his name, staring in his eyes desperately–only then he finally begins thrusting, causing you to wrap your legs around his torso, holding on for dear life.

“Is it supposed to feel like this–God, please, please don’t stop, never stop–”

Seungmin wasn’t planning to. Stopping was the furthest thing from his mind as his hips picked up pace, his thrusts angled, deep and hard, bottoming out every time, skin hitting on skin, your hot breaths mingling, mixing, one one one– You felt exactly how he imagined, and a thousand times better, Christ, your tits perfectly bouncing, your cunt squeezing him closer. Books fall, all around you, the sound of them magnifying what the two of you are doing, what’s in process, an altering of souls, because he knows this will never again be the same for him, this shop without you, it will always be more, more, more, he will fuck you over every surface, he will make you part of him, he swears, you’re never leaving, not when your juices are the only thing that can get him drunk, not when you sound this hot moaning his name, his name, it’s never vibrated through him like this before, a name, you make it holy, you make it matter–

“Cum with me, cum with me Seungmin, please, let me feel you, fuck, fuck, fuck–”

He’s your servant, he would do anything you asked. He comes with a ferocity unknown to him, panting, sweaty, holding on to you, drilling the last bit of cum deep within your walls, his hands holding, squeezing, digging into your waist, forehead on your sternum dropping soft, abenseminded kisses, and you let him. You let him, because you have no idea what the fuck just happened, you only know that it was the best thing, the rightest decision you’ve ever made in your entire life.

“You look so handsome without your glasses,” you compliment him shyly, smiling.

He carefully puts you down, adjusts your skirt, and tucks himself in his pants, before touching the bridge of his nose. There was nothing there. He chuckles, and his arms are around you again. He can’t bring himself not to touch you, can’t find a reason why he should stay away, put some distance. You belong in his arms, he concludes. 

You belong with him.

“So, I’m not when I wear them?” he teases, his lips on your forehead.

A weak punch on his stomach. He hufs a laugh, moving back just a breath so he can stare down at your face. You look fucking beautiful. You look like you’re his.

“You’re like a sexy professor with them on, you know what I mean, or like a–”

He kisses you. He’s falling in love. He’s already fallen.

#stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids smut #seungmin scenarios #seungmin smut #seungmin fanfic #stray kids #stray kids seungmin #skz fanfic #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfiction #—mine.

[7central]

I just love the different ways that aloto approaches queerness and parenthood.

Toni recognizes Max’s queerness and fears it, but mostly she fears her daughter being hurt in the way that she’s undoubtedly seen happen to Bertie.  The core of their conflict being that she wants to provide for Max, since she’s a pillar in her community and she provides for everyone, at the salon, ushering at church, being motherly towards people like Clance who need it.  She does like Max as well as love her, but she can’t see Max living a future with the way she is, so she wants her to change all the same.  It’s such a realistic conflict with so much urgency in the time (and now too).  Edgar is much more accepting of Max’s reality because he didn’t experience losing Bertie the way that Toni did, and his family has been settled in Rockford for much longer, so he’s farther removed from the immediate need to establish himself in the community the way that Toni has.  Toni, on the other hand, knows how hard it is for Black women, and she knows how much more dangerous it is for people who are gender non-conforming and queer.  On the flip side of the coin, there’s Bertie and Gracie, who are pillars in their own community, who bring Max in and encourage her to learn of the world beyond Toni’s sphere.  All of them love Max, but none of them can tell her who she is.

For Lupe, motherhood is a complicated obligation.  We see her sending money home, so there’s someone she’s providing for, but we never find out who exactly that is to her.  From what she tells Esti, her family intervened and took her daughter from her because they thought she would be a bad influence in some way.  Bad influence in that she was a young, single mother?  That she was queer?  Something else entirely?  It’s not clear.  But whatever it was, Lupe recognizes, and regrets to an extent, that she has benefitted from being relieved of the responsibility of motherhood.  So when she’s forced back into a caretaker position, expected to meet all of Esti’s needs because she is the only one who can communicate with her, she resists.  It’s cruel, yes, to contribute more directly in Esti’s exclusion, while the others do it carelessly, out of ignorance and lack of effort.  But it’s an understandable response to the unfair expectations placed on her, especially given that she’s harshly scrutinized by her teammates and subjected to casual racism on a daily basis.  That’s not even getting into the ways that Esti reminds her of her daughter, and of the youth that she herself was denied, having a child at that age.  It’s all been denied to her, because, in letting go of her daughter, she lost all claim to those feelings.  In deciding to go find Esti, deciding to open up to her about it, she gets just a little bit of that back.  Her motherhood is inextricable to who she is, and so is her queerness, and so is baseball.  She’s never been allowed to have all three.  And opening up about it doesn’t fix that, but it’s something.  Esti’s forgiveness is something that Lupe rarely receives, but constantly gives.  And forgiveness is something we constantly deny mothers who give up their children.

Carson’s sister immediately mentions the absence of their mother on the phone and half-accuses her of leaving Charlie.  It’s not until later that we find out that Carson’s mother left when she was young, probably forcing her sister into that motherly role.  Carson clearly misses her mom, maybe idealizes her more than you’d expect from a kid who was abandoned.  I don’t know if Carson ever realizes it fully, but I think she takes comfort in knowing that, even if her sister and husband are disappointed about her running off to play pro ball, putting off having children for it, her mother would probably be proud of her decision.  Charlie’s accusation that “whatever made your mother leave is in you,” is heavy with the implication that her mother was queer.  That it was selfish to choose that over her family.  And it was.  But Carson decides to do it, too, because the newfound sense of self she has is more than any of the stability or love that her husband could give her.  In a way, it’s just the same as Greta confiding that she’d like to have children but could never put herself through commitment to a man.  I think a part of Carson knew that about her mother all along, which is why she shows such an unexpected amount of grace about being left behind.

It’s just so intense to see these different ways that queerness intersects with and complicates parenthood, especially in this time period, when the expectation of women to become mothers was even more prevalent than it is now.  The strangeness of having so many men off at war is enough to shift the perception just slightly enough for something like the League to exist, but it’s all about to snap back like a rubber band during the baby boom to come.

#is there a thesis here? no not at all #just pure vibes #aloto #aloto series #aloto 2022 #a league of their own #max chapman #toni chapman #edgar chapman #uncle bertie #what's his last name?? #what's gracie's last name?? #lupe garcia #esti gonzalez #carson shaw #charlie shaw #greta gill

[red-bat-arse]

Get High, Get Down

Eddie Munson was a year and a half out from surviving his trip into the Upside Down, and overall things couldn't be better. He'd been taking testosterone, loving up on Steve Harrington, and getting orgasms on the regular. So what's the problem?

Was it that he had a harder time crying, that he needed to eat twice as much as he used to, or that he was horny as often as he had his eyes open? No, surprisingly, and all of those things had cooled off a little in time. Was it that even looking at Steve got him hotter than the hood of the Beemer on a summer day? No, what are you crazy?

Actually, if you must know, it was that he couldn't fucking chill out long enough to take dick and that was pretty much the only thing he wanted to do at the moment.

*I wrote an incredibly horny homage to my own hangups being a transsexual man on T navigating sex -and using grass to do it. Pass by if that's not for you! Here's the first third, the full spicy thing is on AO3*

Link

Listen, the thing about being on testosterone, right, is that for the first couple years you're basically re-doing puberty all over again.

This was something Eddie'd been prepared for ever since he first got to talking to the guys in Indianapolis who'd been on hormones one way or another since the sixties and seventies. It had been a bit of a pipe dream for him given he couldn't see a way out of Hawkins long term, but he still wanted to learn what to expect and what to say to his doctor if he ever got that far.

Eddie knew he'd already got a bit of a boon, since Wayne let him shave his head and change his name after dear old dad got locked up when he was eleven. If it'd been anyone else, Eddie likely would've spent the seven years until he hit eighteen miserable and forced into a pretty pink box, whatever he had to say about it be damned. Certainly his mum's side didn't appreciate having a tranny in the family, but they were all assholes anyway and Eddie was happy to wreck any family gathering where his cousins 'she'd' him -and getting banned when he was fifteen was just a bonus. It's not as if Wayne cared.

But yeah, he moved to Hawkins and became Eddie Munson, and he grew into the freak the town knew him as partly because, well, that's who he was, but also to keep any rumours manageable. Who was going to care about him skipping out on gym when all the jocks spread around that he sucked dick behind the bleachers anyway? Who would notice his voice sometimes going high pitched when he was tired when he'd just finished ranting on a lunch table about forced conformity and bullshit American values? Not the idiots at Hawkins High, anyway.

And everyone was too busy trying to hunt him down and kill him to look into his records before moving in with Wayne -not that any survived the jumping around Al Munson did for the three years he went off the rails once mum died.

So it was a scare, really, when one Sam Owens shuffled into his hospital room a few weeks after everything went down with enough paperwork to put a cramp in Eddie's wrist and a quiet question about the reason his records didn't match his body. The guy pretty quickly backtracked when Eddie's heart monitor spiked through the roof, and reassured him he didn't mean any harm -far from it. He rambled on about proper treatment and government doctors and medical records for a bit, before Eddie cut him off and asked him to spell it out for him before he yelled for one of those said doctors to come and escort him out.

Well, turns out in the matter of replacing the few IDs him and Wayne had that were lost with half the trailer, it came up that the doctors who were overseeing him noticed he didn't exactly have a dick as claimed. Ok, Owens didn't say it like that, but you get the idea. So he was here to figure out what was going on, whether someone was massively messing up on their examination logs, and how to fix it in the quietest, smoothest way possible.

"Well I'm a guy, so jot that down," Eddie said, frankly exhausted, and luckily Owens seemed able to read the room.

Owens talked more about what he'd researched after speaking with Wayne and jumping to some conclusions, a group he'd called out of SanFran that had information on FTM experiences and the few medical advances for them in recent years, and it was all very interesting, really. Eddie didn't even feel weird about confirming it, though he'd never actually called himself transsexual out loud to anyone, and it was a little annoying how Owens nodded along as if he hadn't said anything noteworthy. He was wondering again what the point of it all was when Owens brought out a new folder, much slimmer, and pushed it towards Eddie with a funny little smile on his face.

And just like that, all Eddie's IDs said male on them, and he was set up on a testosterone prescription from an actual real life doctor and pharmacy -apparently natural guys got prescribed shots like that on the regular, who knew? Eddie hadn't ever thought he'd be able to get a doctor to sign off on it, let alone afford it, but all of The Party were being taken care of for the next five years at least, and got handouts besides, so he had time to figure it out.

As mentioned, this all meant that from the summer of 1986 through to New Year's Eve 1987, Eddie'd basically been putting himself through a second, much more wonky and unpredictable puberty. It had it's upsides. He didn't have to pay attention to keeping his voice low, he got a bit of bristly scruff as opposed to faking it with mascara, and even his muscles seemed to shift and sit differently. It was great and if Owens hadn't been part of such a shitty operation Eddie might've sent him a Christmas card over it, he was so thankful.

Of course, there were some drawbacks. He didn't cry as often, needed to eat twice as much, had to buy better deodorant and body wash, to name a few. Oh, and also, he was out of his mind horny with alarming consistency.

Eddie definitely didn't remember Jeff, Toby or Gareth complaining about this shit, although to be fair as a friend group they hadn't ever really talked crushes or embarrassing bodily functions much. He supposed he expected it to some degree, but it was kind of a lot and he didn't exactly have a threshold for normal FTM second puberty milestones here. He wasn't exactly complaining, mind you, because by virtue of gaining his little clit-dick, he was experiencing more orgasms in the average week than he used to give himself in a couple months. It was hard to complain about anything that made him feel that good with little to no drawbacks.

Well, no drawbacks now that he was approaching the two year mark and his libido was cooling off a smidge. No longer was he in danger of an ill-advisedly tight pair of jeans leading him to lock himself in the employee bathroom while on the clock so he could get himself off at lightning speed to work without being distracted -hypothetically, right, that was definitely just a completely made up scenario, one he for sure didn't have to worry about anymore. Again, having a dick was awesome.

So yes, he was horny on the regular. It had cooled off a bit, but he still comfortably got himself off around once a day, more if something set him off thinking dirty thoughts and he had the time to spare. That was preferable to any imagined, totally not even plausible bathroom incidents he definitely didn't need to think about. It would've even been manageable, truly, if not for one small, teeny, tiny, extra little facet of Eddie's journey going through all this after the shitshow that was March '86.

That being that he and one Steve Harrington -of the Loch Nora Harringtons, lately lapsed in residence to the house where Eddie had once sold his wares of grass and grog -were, as of late October, an item. Attached. Going steady. Courting one another in a manner of chaste companionship, if you will.

Was this what Eddie was complaining about? Absolutely not and if anyone implied such a thing Eddie had words prepared for them detailing just how abysmally wrong they were about it. He could barely believe it himself, but he knew a good thing when he saw one and wasn't about to let it go easily. Ever since the anniversary of Vecna's defeat when Hopper hosted The Party out at his cabin and Eddie and Steve ended up pressed together by the fire, the last two awake, too drunk by far, but not drunk enough to stop Eddie from crying into Steve's shoulder, they'd been circling each other. It took a bit, granted, since Eddie was nothing if not self-sabotaging when it came to crushes, but Steve had been braver than him and ended an elaborate series of near kisses that drove Eddie up a wall with a perfect one planted on him in the front room of the trailer after dinner.

It was bliss, a small town gay like Eddie landing a guy as sweet and protective and bitchy as Steve. And even more than that, Steve seemed to be just as infatuated as Eddie was; he'd liked to touch and be nearby when they were friends, but adding romance dialed it up to another level. An arm around his waist, a leg over his thighs, fingers on his wrist or bumping hips, Steve loved being close and Eddie wasn't used to it, but it was fast becoming his favourite thing. Figuring out that Steve loved getting pet-named and blushed to high heaven whenever Eddie complimented him was icing on the cake. Give him the whole box, really.

So what was the problem?

#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #trans stuff #trans eddie munson #spicy scenes #fanfic #ao3 link #ao3 fanfic

[miracles-and-butterflies]

Any Pepa Head-cannons?

Of course! Apologies for this being late. Here’s some for Pepa:

Pepa’s middle name is “Catalina”

Pepa and Bruno were each other’s best friend in their early years

This changed when Félix and his family moved to Encanto and Pepa found herself quickly replaced

From that point on, Pepa disliked Félix

Though her gift was difficult for a child to control, she initially found no issues with it and enjoyed manipulating the weather

Pepa’s habit of playing with her hair when nervous started as a child, she just never grew out of it and became increasingly more on edge

Is actually very squeamish and usually avoids helping Julieta with work

When the triplets started taking dance class, Pepa purposefully made herself look bad - therefore never having to be partnered with Félix, who was one of the best

She can dance just as well

Out of the triplets, Pepa had the worst reputation growing up

The villagers disliked her gift as it was impossible to live with the possibility that the weather could change so quickly

And her classmates use to bully her for being so “emotional” and “childish”

She was extremely self-conscious during her teenage years - especially as Julieta was considered the most beautiful of the town, and Bruno carried similar charms to their late father

She became close friends with Agustín as fellow outcasts when he moved to town in their late teens

There was never romantic feelings between them, although they did promise if neither were married by 50, they’d marry each other

Pepa was the one who introduced him to Julieta at a party, as he may or may not have fallen off a roof from a dare she gave him

She was very happy when the pair got together

She was less happy when he befriended Félix, giving Félix more reason to hanging around Casita

She is very good at lip reading

Subsequently, she had tons of gossip - in spite of nobody actually talking to her

Out of the triplets, she has the least amount of relationships and dating experience. But was too proud to ask either of them for advice

It took her many, many years before she dropped her grudge against Félix. And even more before she realised Félix had a crush on her

Félix proposed to her with a song on his tiple

Félix and Pepa married in December, 1928

Yes, in a hurricane

Pepa didn’t speak to Bruno for the rest of the day

She blames herself for not having better control of her emotions, but everyone else blamed Bruno and she conformed with them; it was nice to not being the hated triplet for once

Dolores came prematurely

Baby Dolores was a very quiet baby, until she started talking, which came unusually quick for babies

Isabela is her favourite niece, for many reasons. But their closeness started when Isa was a baby and had trouble sleeping, only comforted by the sound of Pepa’s storms

Contrary to popular belief, it was Pepa who started braiding Isabela’s hair, not Alma - though it was based on old photographs of Alma

Félix, coming from a big family, and Pepa, having always wanted children of her own, expected to have at least five or six - unfortunately, Pepa struggled to have children

Pepa would later have a miscarriage between Camilo and Antonio. It was another boy

The baby is buried alongside Pedro; Pepa lays new flowers on their graves every so often

Baby Camilo was the exact opposite to his sister, loud and always craving attention

In addition to raising baby Camilo, Pepa also kept an eye on Mirabel during the early months when nobody (besides Luisa and Félix) would interact with her

Pepa thinks raising Mirabel is what raising Julieta was like

Antonio was the most difficult pregnancy

Like Isabela, baby Antonio also found her weather to be good white noise for sleeping. Even after he moved into the nursery, he would still creep back into his parents’ bedroom

Pepa runs lines with Camilo when he’s practicing for a show

In spite of being the more chaotic of her and Félix, she’s the (slightly) stricter parent

Though she’s definitely argued in defence of her children at multiple parents’ evenings

She has also destroyed anyone who bullies her children

She may be a little overprotective

Pepa taught all of the children how to dance - Isabela, Luisa and Camilo were the most promising (Dolores has two left feet, Mirabel overthinks it, and Antonio just isn’t interested in dance)

Reading is one of Pepa’s favourite hobbies

Has always shown up at family dinner for dessert and drama (nothing else)

Out of all her children, Dolores is the most like her - she’s just quieter

Pepa is one of the few adults who actually remembers the names of all Antonio’s animals

Following the return of the miracle, Pepa insisted the Madrigals retake the photo in Antonio’s room

Gets at least one umbrella every year for her birthday

#encanto #ask me anything #encanto headcanons #pepa madrigal #félix madrigal #dolores madrigal #camilo madrigal #antonio madrigal #bruno madrigal #julieta madrigal #agustín madrigal #isabela madrigal #luisa madrigal #mirabel madrigal #alma madrigal #the warm family #madrigal family

[sophiaphile]

Dream Scenario accurately depicts how some people don't have empathy or compassion for other people until they have something similar happen to them. It also captured how frustrating it is to be boxed in and marginalized for things that are outside of a person's control.

Paul (Nic Cage) is a straight, white tenured professor teaching university courses on evolutionary biology.

He repeatedly invokes Rationality™ (as if rational thought can be fully divorced from emotion or normativity). At one point, he cuts Tim Meadows's character off and scoffs at him when he thinks Meadows is considering the "lived experience" of the students who are having heinous nightmares about Paul.

Early in the movie, his wife says she's not having these dreams, but she says that if she did, she'd want him in David Byrne's big suit coming onto her (or something like that I think). He laughs at her fantasy, not listening to what a real life woman is telling him she wants because it is inconsistent with the cultural messages he receives. After he criticizes her, she frustratingly says something like "fine you have a big cock, is that what you wanted to hear?"

He is an evolutionary biologist who thinks that he is smarter and more logical than everyone else. In a lecture, he discusses how zebra's stripes don't blend in with things in their natural habitat; it is a little baffling at first glance why they developed them, but when zebra are in a group their stripes protect them from easily being targeted by predators.

Human psychology (which Paul seems to reject as a field of study) might seem counterintuitive to nature. Given that we are rational beings, why would we judge things based on appearance when we know that there is evidence otherwise (these are just dreams or socialized biases about class, race, gender, etc.; we think we should know better)? Unfortunately, our own psychology is not always clear to us, and there are things going on below the surface of our stated beliefs and intentions, even if we haven't done the work to reflect on it.

On the other hand, developing a defense against traumatic events (real or imagined) can be a healthy defense mechanism, but such thinking is also harmful to those who get thrown under the bus for the group to feel safe (the singled out zebra and society's scapegoats). The dynamic is not fair, but it does make sense despite seeming irrational or arational.

He wants his academic work to be acknowledged, but he is famous for appearing in peoples' dreams. He is frustrated that he can't control his image or the narrative around it.

He hates that people make assumptions about him based off of their dreams, which he has no control over. He doesn't want to be boxed in. He starts to lose his status due to the box he's being put in.

He loses his job, and his wife also loses work opportunities because she's married to him. He continues to spiral and not consider his wife or kids' pov when they ask him to stop feeding into the media hype. He makes decisions that actively ignore his family's reported feelings and experiences because he feels he knows best. His wife leaves him.

Eventually, he is such a social pariah that only Jordan Peterson, Joe Rogan, France, Tucker Carlson, etc. will have him, but he doesn't want to be associated with right-wing hate.

Because he is boxed in such a stifling way, he can choose only between railing against his box, which gets him nowhere and leaves him with no financial prospects, or conforming and being allowed to participate in society in some compacity (much like people who are marginalized due to their perceived social identity).

Paul didn't care about other peoples' experiences (his wife and kids' reported lived experience of being uncomfortable and wanting him to stop what he was doing) because the system was serving him well enough that he didn't feel the need to question it, which is also why during his downfall, he threw in the school admin's face that he has a PhD and she just has a BA (even though she had her master's); he wanted to reinforce the hierarchy that had served him until it singled him out (via society forming bias against him based off things outside his control, like most marginalized people).

It is ironic because Paul keeps talking about the zebras, but he can't apply the same logic to human beings and that was his hubris. He thinks psychology is bullshit, but it does make sense from an evolutionary standpoint, just like the zebra's stripes do.

He took his privilege for granted and didn't realize he won the social lottery by being white, straight, and upper middle class. He scoffed at the idea of "lived experience" and griped that people need to grow up and that they are too sensitive.

Ironically, the discrimination he faced was his lived experience and other people didn't care because they couldn't help the way their brains formed negative associations with him/his image.

He wanted people to acknowledge his lived experience and check their biases towards him that were informed by their nightmares, but he ignored his wife and kids' lived experience, and he was unwilling to consider whether he was biased in his thinking that he knows best or that they were being too sensitive.

The final scene was crushing. He goes to his wife in a dream to give her the fantasy she described earlier in the movie: him in the DB over-sized Stop Making Sense suit. I wonder whether the suit was maybe meant to symbolize that Paul needed to let go of thinking he was right about everything and that all life adheres to Rationality™ (and instead adheres to a kind of logic he previously rejected). He needed to stop trying to make sense and be more open minded to others' views.

#dream scenario explained #dream scenario #nicolas cage #kristoffer borgli #a24 #philosophical movies #social epistemology #epistemic injustice

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

riddle, rollo, and… ace?

This kind of fits in with my other posts speculating on Masquerade part II. The previous posts were about Rollo meeting Ortho and Lilia, respectively.

***Spoilers below the cut!!***

I’ve often seen parallels being drawn between Rollo and Riddle’s backstories, which makes sense 🤔 They are both stubborn in their worldviews and try to force their idea of what is “proper and just” upon others. When their views are challenged, they spiral into rages and insist that they are correct, and that everyone else is “wrong” or “the villain”. (And, of course, on a superficial note, they lean towards fire-based magic.)

But with that in mind, now consider… Wouldn’t it be a throwback to see how Rollo interacts with Ace? All the way back in episode 1 of the main story, Ace called out Riddle for acting like a tyrant. He has continued being the voice of reason for other characters acting unreasonable across various events and vignettes, such as Ghost Marriage (to Eliza) and Endless Halloween Night (to Malleus, in Ace’s Halloween vignettes). I can 100% see Ace also putting Rollo on blast for his actions (in a Fairy Gala: If-like scenario, so same plot just played by different characters) 😂

Ace comes from a particular background which can add to the tension and drama. He is also a younger brother, has a view of magic that is very positive (he wants to be like his mage older brother), and uses his magic carelessly (ie remember when he set the Queen of Hearts on fire) or for things Rollo would deem frivolous and unnecessary (like pulling pranks on others, as he did with Deuce’s birthday present). These are all traits that make Ace very similar to Rollo’s own little brother—a brother that, may I remind you, has already passed.

There also remains the unaddressed and unresolved conflict of episode 5 in which Ace expresses disbelief that Deuce unlocked his unique magic before he did (the duo spent episode 6 mostly knocked out). Ace must be harboring some frustrations that he was not able to keep up with his rival and friend in spite of being so sure that he would be the one to surpass Deuce. These are circumstances which make Ace uniquely like Rollo—feeling upset that he does not have his magic sooner, and some unspoken disappointment and guilt wrapped up in that.

So imagine Ace being one of the people to confront Rollo 🤡 and when he’s chewing him out, all Rollo sees is an older version of his dead brother talking back and disapproving of his actions. As the SSR trio of the current Masquerade event point out, would Rollo’s brother really have been happy knowing that he’s going to such extremes, and using his brother’s death and the claim that he is “saving” others to justify it? And now here comes Ace, telling Rollo all of that right to his face while also emulating a similar energy as his brother once did. It’s like Rollo’s brother has come back from beyond to grave specifically to tell Rollo he’s disappointed in him, to tell him what he’s doing is wrong-and that would still set Rollo off, sending him into a fresh fit of rage for similar reasons as Riddle. (Yes, we are coming full circle and bringing it back to Rollo and Riddle parallels.)

Because if what they’ve been doing all along was actually wrong instead of right like they’ve been viewing it... What did Riddle do all that studying in isolation for? Why did he have to conform to these rules all his life, only to now discover that he was wrong? Why was Rollo saddled with this burden of magic, and a unique magic which will always remind him of his younger brother’s ashen end? Why did he have to stew with all of these complicated emotions while everyone else openly indulged in the sin of magic?

“Then what was the point of it all…?” What was the point of all of their suffering?! Was it all meaningless? Were their efforts worth nothing? Are their feelings and personal experiences up until this point just... pointless? Neither Riddle nor Rollo would automatically take responsibility for their own actions, nor accept fault for their harsh worldviews, so they both lashed out in anger instead.

And not only that, but there’s also a bit of Rollo in Ace--that upset associated with not being inadequate or not being able to measure up to expectations, something that Rollo never acknowledged about himself. We get brief glimpses of Rollo doubting himself, implying that his magic is a burden or a curse, or claiming that he was not able to save his brother. Yet Rollo only continued to blame others for this and tried to overcompensate/overcorrect for what was ultimately a dissatisfaction he had with himself, rather than with the world. Ace could help really drive that home as he’s escorting Rollo down the bell tower (as he’s not very tactful with his words), with just a dash of understanding his situation--because Ace is likely confused in his own way, still trying to discover what makes himself “unique”, just as Rollo is left confused about where to go from here on out.

sahdbaodbsada I just think there’s something potentially interesting to be explored between Ace and Rollo! I also just love it when Ace does a good call out 😂

#Rollo Flamme #Ace Trappola #twst #Rollo Flamm #Riddle Rosehearts #twisted wonderland #Cater is a younger sibling too but #the relationship with his sisters is not a big focus #and then you have responsible big bros like Trey and Jack shaking their heads at Rollo #Leona had strong magic at a young age like Rollo’s lil bro #but also grew up cynical because he knew his magical strength was a source of ridicule #so he started off like Rollo’s lil bro but in essence grew up to be closer to Rollo #Kalim is over here crying for Rollo’s brother 😭 #he has so many younger siblings himself #he can’t imagine the pain of losing one #okay but Oasis Maker vs Dark Fire who would win??? #notes from the writing raven #disney twisted wonderland #spoilers #can you tell I just really want the main story to address Ace's lack of UM #and how he feels about Deuce getting his own #right before him #even though Ace has been bullying Deuce all along about it

[pokemoncenter]

On Team Plasma

... Truthfully, I did not want to share this in this way. But I feel that given recent events, it is best to be open and upfront. In this post, I will share all I know and all I can remember of Team Plasma, their actions, their methods, their reasons, and most importantly, why there cannot be a new resurgence of Team Plasma- Anyone claiming the name cannot be related to them.

Twelve years ago, I was a member of the original Team Plasma. I was afraid to share this until now, for many reasons, not least of which that I was afraid it would cause people to think less of me. I wished to take this secret to my grave. However, given the recent events of someone claiming to be Team Plasma, and potentially seeking to use its name to cause harm, I felt it best to take this chance to write down and post everything I know.

I do not know if this information will help, but it is my hope that it will either lay fears to rest, or help stop whoever is using Team Plasma's name.

First, I wish to clarify that for all of Team Plasma’s crimes, I was never involved in any ‘liberations’. My role was that, when Pokemon were brought to me, I simply examined them and deemed whether they were safe to return to the wild, or if they needed treatment first. I know that this does not excuse it, but even so…

To start from the beginning… Many have forgotten this now, but Team Plasma was originally nothing like what people think of it now. It originally began as a group devoted to Pokemon welfare. It is known now that it was far more sinister, but in the beginning, it was nothing more than a group which preached that humans should not force Pokemon to conform to their ideals.

Though no one knew much about it at the time, Team Plasma actually began in 1996. Ghetsis founded it as a group promoting Pokemon welfare, while raising a boy, N.

(Though I have no proof, due to their physical similarity and circumstance, I suspect that Ghetsis is N’s father.)

At the time, Team Plasma started small. It had no resources to speak of- In fact, when it began, Team Plasma (then Plasma Circle) had only eight members. Those who would go on to become the Seven Sages, and the Team’s ‘prince’, Lord N.

The growth of the organization was… surprisingly swift. By the time of its fall in 2010, it had surpassed 90,000 members. But before that, when it was just starting out, it owed its growth entirely to Ghetsis. The man was a surprisingly powerful public speaker, and has a strong charisma. Though he was at best someone who could be described as a monster, he had a keen eye for seeing through people, and could work a crowd better than anyone else. Combined with his acting as a simple older man, and even using the young N to boost his public image as someone campaigning for a kinder world, he was quick to gain popularity.

I did not join until 2008, when I had just turned ten years old. Rather than going on a journey as a Trainer, I wanted to instead help Pokemon. I joined Team Plasma, and there, I began to learn medicine and treatment to Pokemon.

What I would like everyone to understand is that ‘liberation’ was not originally considered the universal answer to all Pokemon. It changed. Swiftly, and yet unstoppably. 

I am getting ahead of myself.

Before I joined Team Plasma, there were many stories on the news of humans abusing their Pokemon. Many, like myself, had thought this to mean that humans were cruel. That we should try to make the world better for them. 

Upon joining, I studied under some of the older members, to learn how to treat Pokemon. Pokemon were brought to us frequently- Some of them liberated, some of them wild who were injured in other ways. We knew, of course, that some of them were liberated, but the important thing was that we believed liberation was only done to people who abused their Pokemon. And when a Pokemon was brought in with bruises from boot prints… We felt justified. 

As time went on, however, the number of Pokemon brought to us increased. And it had always been that every liberation had been justified. We had too many Pokemon to care for, and not enough time to look into each Pokemon we received, to ensure the liberation had been justified… but it always had been before, so we simply did not think much of it. We simply assumed that it was similar… That every Pokemon was either justly liberated, or wild and injured by human action.

At the same time, throughout 2009 and 2010, things seemed to… escalate.

We started out thinking that we would only liberate Pokemon that had been abused. And then, somewhere down the line, the language shifted without anyone noticing- That if we liberated a Pokemon, then it must have been being abused. And eventually, this turned into the thought that humans keeping Pokemon at all was abusing them, so all Pokemon should be liberated.

It was impossible to speak out against this. After all, we were all united in our love of Pokemon. Everyone agreed. If you disagreed… it just showed that you were another one of the foolish and cruel humans who were abusing Pokemon. The entire group felt unified, as long as you agreed. And if you stepped out of line, then everyone would turn against you. 

We felt unable to trust ourselves, because surely, the organization wouldn’t do anything wrong. But we also could not trust anyone outside of the Team, because so many people were abusing their Pokemon. We eventually could not trust anything except that which our superiors told us. It was horrifying- Without realizing it, you would be swept up by the flow of the crowd, terrified that any disagreement from the norm would be discovered, and you would be cast out.

Most of us did not know anything about the castle, either. 

The underground base was a well-known thing, of course. Most of us had been there a few times- I was there to see Lord N’s coronation, as well as to see a few of the larger or more dangerous Pokemon that needed treatment. We had been told it was simply to avoid crowding out room on Pokemon habitats above the ground. None of us knew it could move. 

It was when the castle rose up that I fled. The castle appeared, the Legendary Dragons were revived, the Gym Leaders and Elite Four were fighting us. That was when I finally realized just how deep in over my head I truly was. And so I ran. I ran for my life. I did not stop running until I had made it all the way back to Castelia City, and then, I shut myself away for the better part of a year.

… The rest of that story isn’t relevant to Team Plasma, however.

Team Plasma as an organization was managed by the Seven Sages, each with their own role. However, Lord N, as the King of Team Plasma, was truly in charge… or so we thought. We believed that the Seven Sages served Lord N, but in truth, Ghetsis was the true leader, and Lord N nothing more than a figurehead.

Among us in the lower ranks, however, we believed that Lord N was the true power. We saw his ideals, and his beliefs. He was pure-hearted, and truly believed in his mission with his whole heart. Between Lord N’s purity and Ghetsis’ foul charisma, most of us were true believers in the mission. However, not everyone was- At an estimate, I would guess that roughly 80% of Team Plasma’s grunts were loyal to Lord N, and the mission of welfare and happiness for all Pokemon. The remaining 20% were… more loyal to Ghetsis. Rather than wanting to benefit Pokemon, they simply wanted power. I was blind to it at the time, but now it is easy to see in retrospect. And most of the (roughly) one thousand members who committed the “liberations” were part of that second faction.

Rood of the Seven Sages was the one whom I worked under. His group operated mostly for Pokemon welfare- We treated Pokemon, as mentioned, and we sought to make things better for them.

Sometimes, though, Pokemon were brought to us that had their hearts closed by the abuses they received. Even when we treated them, they would not return to the wild. Instead, they chose by their own will to remain with Lord N. I believe they understood him, and his dream. His ideal, after all, was a peaceful, gentle world…

When Team Plasma fell, at that time, when Lord N and Ghetsis were both defeated, Team Plasma disbanded. Those of us who were loyal to Lord N and the ideals of making the world better for Pokemon fled, scattered all over Unova, or were arrested. Most of us would have gone into hiding, or tried to continue to find our own work,elsewhere to continue the dream of helping Pokemon. 

Those who remained loyal to Ghetsis and his maniacal plans instead went to ground with him. Without being arrested, they made a resurgence two years later as the second Team Plasma, who had abandoned all pretense of the original’s noble goals. They were nothing more than a military force that wished to conquer the region, if not the world, for Ghetsis’ horrible ambitions.

When Ghetsis was defeated a second time… I don’t know for certain. I’ve heard conflicting reports. That he died at the end of that fight. That he was arrested. Or that by using Kyurem… His heart was destroyed- His body survived, but the man called “Ghetsis” was dead. Regardless, all accounts agree- Ghetsis is no longer a threat. With the remaining Seven Sages arrested, Team Plasma is no longer a threat to anyone. Anyone who seeks to cause trouble using their name has no relation- The power of Team Plasma is all accounted for, and can no longer cause trouble.

Lord N… I do not expect anyone to believe me, or understand. But I can swear that he was not evil. He was manipulated by Ghetsis from his childhood. I have theories, and suspicions, but no proof, so they are not worth posting here. But I can say this:

Once, I had the fortune of seeing his dream. While I was at the underground base, I saw him resting, with a Munna there. In the Munna’s smoke, I saw his dream- A kind, and gentle dream, wishing purely for the happiness of Pokemon.

I hope this was informative. I will do my best to answer any other further questions you have.

#pkmn irl #pokeblogging #unreality

[roronoacherries]

“IT’S FORCED CONFORMING; THAT’S WHAT’S KILLING THE KIDS.” | EDDIE MUNSON

1.765 words

CONTENT: Eddie Munson might be the school freak, but you can never seem to hold back the smile that tugs at your lips when you see him stepping on his soapbox (the lunchtables) from across the cafeteria; fluff; fem!reader; no plot rlly just lots of feelings for my boi.

NOTES: got eddie munson brainrot from this gifset by @his-name-is-ed and i was left with no choice but to write this. might write a part two.

Eddie Munson had been a senior for nearly as long as you’d been in high school. Of the first things you learned about survival at Hawkins High was to pay little mind to the social reject. It’s what everyone did. It’s what anyone with any sense was expected to do. He was strange; that was the general consensus on Eddie Munson and you’d accepted it as the truth. You ignored him like everyone else did. Until you didn’t. 

It wasn’t until he was held back a second time, making him a senior of the Class of ‘86 like you, that you started to take notice of him. It started with quiet laughs at his remarks in class. Then, you started finding yourself contemplating certain things he said, replaying his words in your head long after he’d uttered them. They were things that made sense, but you’d never bothered to think about before. You didn’t think anyone had bothered to think about them before. At least not anyone in Hawkins. 

You figured Eddie wasn’t a weirdo, per se — just different. 

Still, you couldn’t be caught dead giving Munson the Freak the light of day, so you went on ignoring him as best you could. Until you realized that that was harder than it’d once been because the more you listened to him — the more you watched him — the more you realized everyone else was wrong. 

Eddie Munson wasn’t a freak. He was outspoken in a way that made people uneasy — that’s all. 

You still avoided showing interest in anything he had to say, avoided acknowledging his existence, but your eyes often wandered to him. And when he talked, you couldn’t help but listen. Sometimes, you couldn’t help but smile, too.

“What is his problem?” 

These words pull you out of your thoughts, and while the rest of your friends turn their heads in Eddie’s direction, you pretend you haven’t been looking that way all along, trying to play it off like you could care less what he’s up to. 

“Don’t know,” your friend turns to look at you as she speaks, a teasing smile tugging at her lips, “but whatever it is, Y/N seems to be into it. She hasn’t stopped staring at him. It’s like she’s eating him for lunch instead of those tater tots.”

At this, your friends are all turn to stare at you. “I am not into Eddie Munson,” you jump to defend yourself, poking at the food in front of you, “and I’m not… staring.” You talk fast, trying not to think too hard about the sudden attention on you.  “ — and he doesn’t have a ‘problem’ either. I have a few classes with him and he’s really not as bad as everyone makes him seem.” 

The table goes quiet and for a moment you think you’ve said too much, until your friend speaks up beside you, her eyes still on Eddie Munson. “You know, he’s kinda cute? In his own, weird, kind of way.”

To your surprise, your friends mumble in agreement. “I think I see what you mean,” you respond. You try to sound like you’re making the realization along with her; like you haven’t been dwelling on the thought for weeks. 

Against your better judgment, you glance back to where Eddie sits once more and his eyes meet yours. He gives you a sweet smile and you turn away. 

.

As much as you try to push Eddie Munson out of your mind, he’s hard to forget and harder to ignore. It feels like whenever he’s around, you can’t focus on anything else. As hard as you try to redirect your attention to anywhere else (your teacher, for instance), your eyes always wander to where he sits, bouncing his leg while he doodles in the margins of his textbook. 

Eddie always leaves you with something to wonder about when he’s not around, too. 

If you’re not left thinking about something he said, you’re wondering how he can have such a devilishly innocent grin. How is it that his smile says “I’m up to no good” and “I wouldn’t hurt a fly” at the same time? 

You wonder if the twinkle in his eyes adds to the mischief or the innocence in his smile, or if it’s a little bit of both. You wonder why he likes his hair so long; whether the chains on the sleeve of his leather jacket were there when he bought it or if it’s an addition of his own; what each of his tattoos means to him; whether he has any more you haven’t seen…

You wonder whether he remembers your name and what he thinks of you, if anything. You think about little ways to get his attention — like dropping your pencil in front of him in hopes that he’ll pick it up for you, frowning when Jason Carver does instead — and wonder why you care at all. 

You don’t want to admit it’s a crush — you can’t have a crush on Eddie Munson, of all people — but how else do you explain the beat your heart skips when he smiles and the time you waste coming up with a hundred and one excuses to talk to him? Not that you ever do. 

-

At the end of everyday, you walk past Eddie in the parking lot, racking your brain for anything to say to him. Usually, the most you can muster is a shy smile as you rush past him, ears blushing red when he smiles back. 

It isn’t until you see him walking alongside Mike Wheeler that you come up with a solid excuse to walk up to him. 

You don’t waste a second, knowing that if you stop to think about it you’ll wimp out and lose your chance. So, feigning confidence and ignoring the loud beating of your heart in your chest, you march towards them. “Hi, boys! Sorry to interrupt.” 

“No apologies necessary, milady,” Eddie says, smiling as he bows his head to you. As endearing as it is, you turn to Mike in an attempt to appear indifferent, but the blush that flushes your cheeks and the smile you fail to hide give you away. You could swear you see Eddie smirk at you out of the corner of your eye, but you’re not bold enough to look. 

“I just wanted to ask if you could return this to Nancy for me.” You dig through your bag for a book you borrowed from Nancy Wheeler weeks ago, handing it to Mike. He mumbles a quick, “Yeah, no problem,” as he eyes Eddie — who has yet to take his eyes off of you — in confusion. You can feel Eddie’s eyes on you and you questionwhether walking over without a plan was your brightest idea. 

“Thanks, Wheeler.” You glance at Eddie for only a second before turning back to Mike, afraid you’ll lose your composure if you meet his big brown eyes. “Cool shirts by the way.” 

You turn to go, though not before you work up the courage to give Eddie a small smile; your eyes linger on him for what you worry is a moment too long. 

There are a dozen thoughts running through your head as you start to walk away. You worry that you might’ve interrupted an important conversation, that you might have annoyed Eddie more than he let on. You wonder whether anything you said sounded stupid or silly. You question if you should have said more to Eddie, if he might think you were ignoring him because you see him the same way everyone else does, or if he’s noticed the way you look at him and knows how you feel about him. 

You don't take more than a few steps forward when you trip over your own feet and fall. 

“I’m O.K.” You rush to stand up, but Eddie is already behind you, holding your arm as he helps you up. 

“You’re bleeding,” Eddie points out, frowning as he looks down at your knee. 

“It’s only a scratch,” you reassure him, but he doesn’t look convinced. “I’m fine, I promise.” Eddie smiles, joyfully bemused by your insistence. Looking into his eyes, you realize you’ve definitely lost your composure now. 

“Well, fine or not, let me give you a ride home, will you? Wouldn’t want you limping home in this heat.” 

You can only manage a quiet, “‘Kay,” your voice lost in throat. It felt silly, how small you felt under Eddie’s gaze but you couldn’t help it.

“A ride in what? Your bicycle?” You notice Eddie’s ears turn red at Mike’s words and you hold back a giggle. “And what heat…you’re wearing a jacket!” 

“Shut it, Wheeler, who asked you?” Eddie says without looking at Mike. He avoids your eyes too for a second. When he finally turns to you again there’s a sheepish grin on his face and you can’t keep yourself from giggling anymore. 

You ride home on the back of Eddie’s bike and for once you’re not worrying that someone will see you being friendly to Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson. You’re too nervous (and giddy) to worry about anything other than making sure you don’t fall over. 

There’s a comfortable silence the whole way home, save for Eddie humming here and there. It’s as if you’re childhood friends rather than classmates who’ve rarely spoken to one another — and you’re grateful for it because it makes it easier to act on your impulses. Before stepping off the pegs of his bike, you lean forward and press a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. “Thanks, Munson.” 

You make a run for the front door before he can respond. Not that he would have been able to say anything at all; you left him too dumbfounded to speak, his heart racing in his chest. See, Eddie Munson knew you were pretty. Anyone with eyes could surely attest to that. The smiles you sent his way when you crossed paths never failed to make his day and, shit, he looked forward to them most days. He knew that, despite not knowing you too well, he liked being near you. He knew he liked the sound of your voice and it thrilled him to hear you laugh at his commentary in class.

Eddie Munson was blissfully unaware that any of that suggested he had a crush until that little kiss on the cheek hit him with the realization, but by then it wasn’t a simple crush anymore.

That simple kiss left Eddie whipped, head over heels for you.

-

reblog if you want a part two? | more eddie munson brainrot <3

#୨⎯ sol escribe ☼ #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson brainrot

[is-the-owl-video-cute]

I know personally as someone who was in my mid-late teens when I watched su, it really mattered to me to get to see a show that said parent figures aren't just right because they said so, and you DO deserve an apology when they hurt you, but one that also had the nuance to show that while you deserve reconciliation and apologies for being hurt by them, they also act with their own reasons and not usually out of a callous disregard for you. Like yes it obviously doesn't flat apply to full on abusive parents, but to parents who were neglectful without really meaning to be or being unable to do anything about it (like, parents who needed to always be at work or who couldn't be there for you) it's actually very relatable and well calculated. Ngl I think some people just dont know what to do with media they don't directly relate to or immediately understand. I did also see a lot of su criticals who tried to claim the show was about forgiving abusers for this exact reason, but I think you only really get that interpretation out of it if you think all media should be about you specifically

In all honesty, the diamonds really did show three different types of parents who are incredibly toxic and damaging to their children without meaning to hurt them.

Yellow is a workaholic, and holds a very strict no-nonsense attitude. She didn’t make time for Pink or treat her problems as legitimate until it was too late, but she did still very clearly care about her. She didn’t let her emotions show to anyone, least of all to herself because she saw them as an obstacle to what needed to be done.

Blue is her polar opposite, she suffered greatly from a loss and (in this case, correctly) blamed herself for every part of it while never actually processing or overcoming her grief. By not taking care of herself, she lashes out at others and cannot move forward. Before Pink was shattered, Blue was indignant, disdainful, and quick to take out frustrations on Pink when she felt “embarrassed” by her not conforming to their expectations.

White was condescending and more dismissive than the other two. Quick to belittle and intimidate to get her way. She loved Pink, yes, but more in the way one might love a nice coat. She was a perfectionist and projected that need to be right and perfect (literally) on every other gem, the other diamonds most of all as they are implied to be of her own creation. Her ego and inability to accept being wrong (or by extension, those she created doing what she decides is wrong) cause her to force Pink to fall into a role that she was never really suited to. She saw Pink as one of her greatest failures and something she needed to either fix or hide away.

All three of them together formed a very deeply toxic and emotionally abusive relationship towards each other and to Pink most of all. A few people take issue with Steven “forgiving” them as they misconstrue it as a victim forgiving abusers, but at the end of the day Steven is not nor was he ever Pink Diamond. He was mistaken for her and felt some of what she experienced because of that, but he was not a long-term victim the way Pink was, in a lot of ways he was an outsider who had context of the situation and wanted to step in to keep them from hurting anyone else.

More to the point, he doesn’t forgive any of them. He calls them out on their toxic behavior and tries to get the point across to each of them that the way they’ve been living isn’t healthy for anyone, and is actively traumatic not only to them but for everyone they hold power over. The end of the series sees him teaching them how to atone for some of what they’ve done and to help others heal, but he doesn’t stay with them, nor does he invite them to stay on earth despite extending that offer to just about every other gem he encountered. It’s established in the movie that he almost never visits any of them outside of his activism and subtly making sure they aren’t regressing into dangerous people again. In the epilogue series he is shown to be (rightfully) distrustful of Blue and Yellow as well as being openly afraid of White. He helped them feel closure for Pink and repaired the relationship the three of them had, and that was it. Even if he had been in that abusive environment for as long as Pink was, that isn’t an unreasonable response. Some victims of (unintentional!) emotional abuse do find catharsis in confronting their abuser once safely out of that situation and expressing the way that behavior harmed them. Some victims genuinely do want their abusers to become better and healthier people when the abusive traits stem from their own trauma or lack of emotional intelligence. There are other victims in the show who completely sever ties with their abusers and never interact with them again, so this wasn’t trying to push a narrative that victims MUST do that, it was giving people language and strategies to approach these conversations if that is something they want to attempt.

This was another of my famous rambles, but I suppose in conclusion I would say: whether SU crits liked it or not, the final arc of Steven Universe was absolutely helpful to people in toxic home environments. It also served as an allegory for queer children not being accepted by their parents for who they are, and how changing your perspective as a parent and accepting your child is legitimately a healthier option for everyone because to do otherwise just ensures you will lose them in every way that matters.

There’s just a lot of important takeaways from that arc, especially for children. I’m incredibly tired of seeing grown adults whining about it because they chose to take it literally. Well done on missing the point of a show for middle schoolers I suppose, but idk if you really just want to see all villains get killed for their villainy just go watch Breaking Bad or the lion king or something. There are plenty of shows where violence is the answer, there’s not any real point getting furious over one of the few that don’t use that as the ultimate conclusion.

#SU #it’s a show for queer children #the entirety of the Gem Society is meant as an allegory for queer people learning to accept themselves and to show #that society accepting queer people is a good thing for everyone #Steven Universe #Anti SU critical #Rebecca sugar #steven universe future

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jason vs billy, some thoughts.

tldr: jason wanted to kill eddie in cold blood, vs billy who was only violent because violence and abuse are all he's ever known.

i'll start by saying that when it comes to 80s tropey high school bullies, jason fits the bill perfectly. he's the jock, the cool rich guy. he's what steve was meant to be in season one. jason is your basic, white, rich school jock bully.

billy's different. he's a metal head and he doesn't conform to the sleepy town aesthetic of hawkins at all. he struts in, double denim, thick boots, curly long hair, rock music blaring loud as fuck. billy hargrove instantly doesn't look like the jock bully stereotype. he's the metalhead outsider, the new kid. but he tries to fit into the jock mould all the same. he plays basketball, he goes to the parties, he flirts with all the women, he fights king steve to be the top dog. because that's how he survives. his dad abuses him, we know that, but if billy has 'friends' and sports and parties and a reputation as the popular guy to uphold, maybe his dad won't end him. so billy plays the bully. and it's easy because he was raised by one. it's easy to play that role.

then again, it's likely easy for jason to play his role too. his dad was probably the popular guy at school, and he grew up rich. well off. of course jason's going to be popular, of course he's going to be a jock. but where billy's trying to fit the mould, jason is the mould. you can see that billy's trying to fit in by the way he practises his smiles, and his lines in the mirror. he's trying to be this perfect image. whereas jason already is.

anyway, jason goes on a rampage across hawkins, starts accusing literal children of satanism and accuses eddie of being a cult leader, all because his girlfriend died. and while that's heartbreaking as fuck for jason, his girlfriend died and he went crazy. jason wanted to kill eddie and the hellfire club. the worst thing in jason's life is that his girlfriend was hanging around with a potential satanist, and he decided he wanted to commit murder.

the worst thing in billy's life? pick one. he's abused by his dad, controlled by his dad, forced to live under his dad's strict rules; and then he's captured by the mind flayer, abused and used and controlled by the mind flayer until billy literally kills himself because it's the only way out. billy never wanted to kill anyone - yes in season 2 he makes comments, says he'll kill them, but he wouldn't. he's a seventeen year old angry hurt boy, and he's lashing out. he wanted to hurt, but that's because he was being hurt. he wanted the easy life he thought king steve had, he wanted the friends that max had, he wanted what everyone else had. but he never wanted to kill anyone, even if he said it. you can see his threats were just an excuse to throw fists (because fists is all he knows, from his father). he never started a witch hunt:

that was jason.

so tell me how the rich, easy life jock boy jason is better than the poor abused and tortured new kid? tell me why billy deserves to be vilified and called the worst villain in the show, when all of his actions stem to the fact that his father beats him up? jason became unhinged so fucking fast, because his perfect life and his perfect girlfriend was taken from him.

jason fought lucas in the end, literally encouraged the witch hunt of a group of kids. he was not going to stop. he did to lucas exactly what billy did in season two. but where jason is somehow "understandable" in his actions because his girlfriend died, billy isn't? billy found his thirteen year old sister in a strangers house with a bunch of boys, one of them being his own age; tell me he's not got a reason to be angry.

and hey: jason wanted eddie to die. he wanted to fight him and to kill him. jason wound up the entire town, and got a bunch of his friends together, convinced them to tag along in his murderous quest. jason was willing to commit murder.

billy never would've taken it that far. he got close, in season 2 with the fight at the end, but he's not a murderer. he didn't go there intending to kill steve, or lucas. he went there (weaponless) to get his kid sister back home. unlike jason, who went to the house in season 4 with the intention to kill.

billy was just looking for his sister, and found steve, an eighteen year old guy, with his thirteen year old sister. of course he fought. but jason? jason went after eddie with the intention to harm.

look at jason and his gang in season 4, vs billy and his in season 3.

jason rounded up a gang, got weapons, and was ready to kill eddie. billy was being mind controlled and abused the entire time. he didn't have any part to play in the villainy of season 3. but jason? in season 4? that was all him.

it reeks of classism, you know? going crazy/bloodthirsty for love vs finding your kid sister in the middle of the night with an adult male is not the same motive: one has privilege, the other does not. and also, jason does what he does by choice. billy never had a choice, he’s abused and mind controlled. jason chose and had the freedom to turn on eddie and to spread hate against him. billy was being told what to do by his father and then the mind flayer. billy was not acting of his own wishes. but jason was.

at the root of jason, is someone willing to kill.

at the root of billy, is someone willing to be killed.

and saying billy is worse than jason, saying billy is worse than someone who wanted to kill someone is saying that anyone who's trauma comes out in a way that isn't deemed "perfect" or "normal" is a villain. anyone who doesn't "fit the mould" of society like jason does, is a monster, and deserves to die.

#stranger things #billy hargrove #not talking about the racial side of it because i've made three essays about that already #ann rambles #i hope that the actors one day realise this #cos saying all this shit about billy really only perpetuates the stereotype that abuse victims go on to be abusers #saying billy is worse than jason #who wanted to literally murder someone #is barbaric. #i wont sit here and say that a character isnt racist if a poc thinks they are #but i hope that this reaches people because racist or not billy is not worse than a literal wannabe murderer. #im sorry #he's just not #harringrove #added bits. #classism innit