#<- i guess it can get that tag i talked in tags enough

[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: When Noah was left alone to take care of his daughter about two years ago, he never thought he would find someone else he would trust enough to include in his little family. But things can change.

Tw: angst

Series masterlist

The soft sound of the baggage carousel echoed in the dimly lit terminal as Noah stood there, fingers drumming lightly on his thigh. The past two days passed so quickly.

With the two days of traveling, performing and then traveling again, he had barely had time to think—except, of course, for one thing: you. And Luna. The thought of you two had never left him during the long hours on the road.

Noah smiled faintly at the thought of finally coming home. Even though only two days had passed, it felt like weeks, and now he just wanted to come back to you. He couldn’t wait to hold you again, to feel your arms around him, and to kiss you the way he had been missing.

Despite the physical exhaustion, his mind felt clearer than it had in days. He realized something during these past two days away: that no matter how Jason looked at you, the way his eyes lingered just a little too long, like he wanted you all for himself, the way he would go to the café just to talk to you, the way he would prentend to be so nice and kind now, he knew the truth.

You were Noah’s. And Noah was yours.

And the distance had done him good. Two days apart had helped clear the fog from his mind. He wasn’t going to let that gnawing insecurity eat at him anymore. He wasn’t going to let it ruin his peace, his relationship, or what he had with you. It didn’t matter how Jason looked at you or said—it was Noah you came home to. Noah you loved.

And that realization brought a sense of relief he really needed.

The soft murmur of his bandmates laughing and talking pulled him back to the present. Matt was the closest to him, fiddling with his phone, scrolling absentmindedly, while the others were cracking jokes about the tour.

"You almost tripped, I saw that!" Jolly laughed.

"Me? Nah, it wasn't me." Nicholas tried to convince him.

Noah chuckled to himself, his gaze softening.

He really couldn't wait to get his baggage, travel a couple of hours more and get home to you and Luna, but before that moment arrived, something caught Matt’s attention.

He had been aimlessly scrolling through Twitter, a little too tired to engage, looking at memes and raccoons pictures, but out of habit, he found himself looking up posts from the previous night’s show. Just some fan reactions and thoughts. And then, unexpectedly, it happened.

He didn't understand immediately. Why was that picture tagged as 'bad omens'?

Matt’s fingers froze as his thumb stopped scrolling. There was a photo, blurry and grainy, from a distance. It wasn’t much—taken at night, the porch barely lit—but there was enough detail to recognize that house. The one Matt has been many times to visit Noah, the one he’d been so proud of.

It was Noah’s house.

And standing on the porch, framed in the dim light, was you.

But you weren’t alone.

A man was standing too close to you—Matt didn't know who he was but he had a feeling he could easily guess. His hand was placed on your arm in one of the pictures, in another one, your hand was on his chest, your faces just inches apart.

Matt’s stomach twisted, and he leaned closer to the screen, squinting at the figure. This wasn't about him, it was about Noah, but still, his heart pounded a little faster as he clicked on the image to enlarge it.

Then, he looked at a couple of other pictures and a short video. It was you for sure. And that was Noah's house.

@/Erikka_1999, the original poster, had tagged the post with #badomens, #NoahSebastian, and #homewrecking. The hashtags were cruelly apt.

Matt didn’t need to see the comments to feel his stomach turn, this was the last thing he wanted to happen to his friend. But still, he scrolled down.

@/user7216: What the fuck is this?

@/noahstwitchstreams: wait is that Noah's gf?

@/lisa_omens: What is Y/N doing????

@/olisykesdavis: girl, not when noah is in another state

@/bomensandmore: This is so messed up...who tf is that man?

@/silent-stories: let's not jump to conclusions guys!!

@/concreteoomens: I KNEW ITTTT

@/noahsdailys: maybe they broke up??

@/user2727ii: they were together 2 days ago???

"Shit," Matt muttered under his breath, his voice filled with disbelief and frustration. His first instinct was to confront Noah, but even before he got the chance, the band began to gather their things, preparing to head toward the exit. Matt hesitated, then stood up quickly, phone in his hand.

He needed to talk to Noah. He needed to show him. He deserved to know.

Noah was standing by the baggage claim, his attention half on the carousel and half on his thoughts. The sight of the suitcases coming out on the conveyor belt didn’t even register to him; he was lost in the image of you, of coming home to you and telling you that the way be reacted in the past couple of days was a bit too much, that he was just scared of losing you, that he loved you.

He imagined the softness of your hands, the way your lips would feel pressed against his neck as you whispered his name again. His heartbeat quickened at the thought of seeing you.

But then Matt was in front of him, holding up his phone up for him to see.

"Hey, man," Matt said, his voice unusually tense. "You need to see this."

Noah didn’t immediately register the urgency in Matt’s voice. "What’s up?" he asked, glancing up in confusion.

Matt shoved the phone toward him without another word, and Noah, a little confused, looked at it.

The moment his eyes landed on the screen, everything seemed to stop.

He could feel his blood run cold, his body stiffening as his heart pounded painfully in his chest. The first thing he saw was the porch—his porch—and there, standing in the weak light, was you. And the man standing far too close to you—no mistaking it—was Jason.

Noah’s breath hitched, and a cold sweat prickled down his neck. He didn’t even need to look at the hashtags, didn’t need to see the comments. He already knew what was happening. This wasn’t just a misunderstanding. This was betrayal. There was no explanation for the short video showing of you pushing Jason into the house.

His hands started to shake. His chest felt like it was caving in, the weight of the world pressing down on him, suffocating him. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

“This... no. This can't be. Not again." His voice cracked as he whispered the words, trying to deny it, trying to make sense of it all, but he knew. He knew in his gut what this was.

Jason had been lingering, making his move, and now he was there—at Noah’s house, with you. The person Noah loved. The one person he thought he could finally trust and wouldn't stab in the back when he left for just two fucking days.

"I'm sorry, man." Matt whispered.

Noah's breath came in short gasps, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He didn’t even hear Matt's words.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” He finally managed to say, his voice hoarse and strained, barely holding it together. His gaze was still fixed on the screen, but he could no longer process the image. The betrayal was all he could feel. “Tell the others. I'll... I'll be right back.”

Without waiting for Matt to respond, Noah turned sharply on his heel and made his way toward the nearest bathroom, his heart heavy with the weight of everything crashing down on him for the second time in his life.

His mind raced as he pushed through the terminal, each step feeling like it was taking him further away from reality.

He shoved the bathroom door open, the bright lights inside feeling too harsh against the overwhelming darkness creeping in. As soon as the door slammed shut behind him and he realized no one else was there, Noah collapsed against the cool tiles, his back pressed against the wall, his knees weak beneath him.

His breath was ragged now, coming in shallow, desperate gasps. He felt like someone was pressing on his chest with a boot.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to shout at the top of his lungs. But all he could do was sit there, utterly devastated, his mind replaying the scene over and over— your hand on Jason's chest, you pulling him inside his house.

Tears welled up in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Not yet. Not here.

His heart felt shattered, the pieces scattered and irreparable.

You were one of the most important people in his life. You were the one who proved to him that he was capable of loving again after Hannah had left him. You were the one who showed him that it was possible to be loved by someone who wouldn’t leave or break his heart a second time. Or so he thought.

Noah pressed his palm to his face, the weight of the betrayal almost too much to bear. His fingers trembled as they brushed against his skin and tangled in his own hair, trying to find something, anything to steady himself. But nothing worked. Nothing would ever fix this.

He hoped it was all just a bad dream, that any moment he would wake up next to you, at home. But as the minutes dragged on, the cold of the tiles beneath him became unbearably real.

He found himself wondering whether you would still be there when he got home, or if, like he had seen Hannah do once before, you would have already packed your things and left. He cursed himself for being so stupid, believing that this time things would turn out differently, that the universe wouldn't play the same trick on him once more.

The world outside felt distant, muffled, as he sat there alone in the bathroom, surrounded by the deafening silence of his own thoughts.

The morning light filtered through the window, gently brushing against your closed eyelids. You woke up suddenly, feeling a strange heaviness on your body. A deep breath, your heart racing a little faster, and then it hit you: you had fallen asleep on the couch, and Jason was still there, beside you. The scent of alcohol and smoke lingered in the air.

Damn it.

You didn’t even have time to check the clock before you were already shaking Jason, stirring him awake with urgency in your voice. "Hey! Jason! It’s time to get up, you need to leave. Get out. Of this house. Now." Your voice trembled, frustration and maybe a little panic slipping through as you tried to shake him out of his heavy sleep.

"Jason! C'mon! Get the fuck up! Go away and I never wanna see you again."

Jason stretched, his eyes barely open, but when they fluttered fully awake, his expression was one of confusion. "What? Y/N, calm—" but he didn’t finish his sentence.

Just then, the front door opened. Noah walked in, his steps heavy and deliberate, and the moment he saw the scene, his face paled, his breath catching in his chest. "What the fuck is going on here?!"

The air seemed to freeze. Jason’s eyes snapped towards Noah, and for a split second, everything went silent. Noah’s gaze was burning with anger, but there was something else there too, he was hurt. He looked at you for a moment, searching your face for an explanation, but the confusion gave way to rage as he took in the situation.

"Get the hell out, dude. Now." Noah’s voice was low, filled with an anger that you’d never heard before. His fists were clenched at his sides, his body tense.

Jason didn’t move immediately. "Man, wait, listen-"

Noah cut him off, voice rising. "I said, get out before I fucking break your face." The words were harsh, cruel, and they hung in the air between them.

Jason tried to speak, but Noah was already walking toward him. He reached forward, grabbing Jason by his jacket and showing him toward the door, not giving him a chance to argue.

Jason hesitated for a moment, his eyes lingering on you.

"Get out of my fucking house!" Noah shouted.

Slowly, he turned and headed toward the door, but just before leaving, he shot one last glance at you. The look in his eyes was the look of someone who got exactly what he wanted, but you barely had time to register it before Noah slammed the door behind him.

This was part of Jason's plan, this was what he wanted. Damn, you had been so stupid.

"Noah..." you began as soon as he started walking toward you again, but the words got caught in your throat. You wanted to explain, but you knew it wouldn’t be easy. You knew he was going to jump to conclusions. The wrong ones.

His eyes were hard, though there was something raw in them too. Something that almost broke you. "What the hell is going on, Y/N? What the hell was that?"

You took a step forward, reaching for him, but Noah flinched away from your touch.

"Noah, please, let me explain—"

"Explain?" He cut you off, his voice shaky but full of anger. "What the hell do you want to explain? What is there to explain? He was here, in my house, with you!"

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you tried to hold them back, knowing how badly you’d hurt him. "No, Noah, it’s not like that, please. You need to believe me. Jason was drunk. He didn’t have anywhere else to go. I didn’t want to just leave him on the street. You weren’t here, I didn't want him to make a scene and wake half neighborhood up, trust me, it happened once, and—"

"No, Y/N." His voice cracked, and the pain in his eyes made your chest tighten. "No, this isn’t just some fucking misunderstanding. This is not the first time, isn’t it? This is not the fucking first time you make excuses for him. You’re defending him when he gets into fights, you keep his damn necklace, you try to convince that he's not still in love with you—and now this? What the fuck am I supposed to think, huh?"

His words felt like punches to your gut, and you could barely breathe. "Noah, I swear, it wasn’t like that. I love you. You have to believe me. Please, just let me explain. He was drunk as fuck and I didn't know what to do. Maybe I fucked up but it's not what you think and-"

He took a shaky breath, shaking his head as if he couldn’t even process what you were saying. "I’m not hearing it anymore. I can’t keep doing this. I thought you loved me. But since that motherfucker came back, it’s been like everything I thought I knew is falling apart." He looked at you, his eyes full of hurt. "I can’t keep doing this. Not this time. This... it’s too much."

You felt the tears begin to slip down your cheeks, the weight of it all crashing down on you. "Noah, please don’t say that. Please, I need you to believe me. I’m not—I’m not doing this to hurt you. I didn't want to hurt you. Noah, I love you and I've been so fucking stupid to think that Jason maybe had changed and was a fucking normal human being now."

He stood there, his chest heaving as he took a long look at you. "What do you think this looks like? What am I supposed to think when I come home, and he is in my house, with you? Do you know there are pictures online? Pictures and videos of how he arrived here, talked to you a bit still outside and then you pushed him into the house. You probably didn't see them cause you were too busy fucking your ex while I was away for only two fucking days!"

"Fuck- Noah. You think I had sex with him? You think I really cheated on you?"

"Well, I don't know what to think anymore now!"

"Noah, he was drunk and I didn't know what to do! I didn't-"

"I don’t care!" Noah’s voice rose, cutting you off. "I don’t care. I don’t care what his fucking excuse is. You don’t get to do this to me. Not again. Not after everything we’ve been through. I can’t—" He stopped, his voice faltering for a second, but he quickly steadied himself. "I can’t do this anymore, Y/N. I... this hurts."

Your heart shattered, and you took a shaky breath, staring at him, trying to process what he’d just said. "What do you mean? What are you saying?"

Noah’s face was unreadable, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger, heartbreak, and resignation. "I’m saying that I can’t go on like this. I don’t want to. This is the second time someone I loved broke my heart, okay? I can't - I can't do it anymore. I thought you were different. I thought I had something with you. Turns out I was wrong. Turns out everybody leaves me, eventually."

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died in your throat. He’d already made up his mind.

"But I don't wanna leave."

"It's better if you do."

"Please, Noah," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Please don’t do this."

He looked at you. More than mad at you, he looked so disappointed. "I don’t know how to fix this, Y/N. And I don’t think I can." He shook his head, his voice quieter now. "You need to go."

You wanted to scream, to beg him to stay, to make him understand, but you knew it was already too late. The damage had been done.

You stood there, the weight of Noah's words still echoing in your ears, your heart a heavy lump in your chest.

The thought of never seeing him again hit you like a wave. Never again would you fall asleep in his arms, your body curling against his as you spent lazy nights together, watching anime until you both drifted off to sleep.

The way he would murmur nonsense into your ear as his fingers played through your hair, the sound of his rough, sleepy voice in the mornings that always made you smile.

Those little moments you had taken for granted. They would never come again. The mornings when you’d made pancakes, his hands brushing over your waist as he tried to help, the soft touch of his lips against the back of your neck as you laughed over something stupid.

And Luna. The thought of her growing up without you there, without you watching her change and develop into the amazing person she was meant to be. You wouldn’t be there for those milestones. You wouldn’t be there for her, and deep down, you knew she would forget you. She was not even four years old.

Maybe one day, as a teenager, she would find an old drawing made when she was just a child and wonder who that weird shape that looked like a woman next to her dad was.

That thought, that painful truth, made your chest tighten and tears well up in your eyes.

Maybe one day she would come to the café with her friends after a day spent shopping and wonder why that place seemed so familiar, why those cookies she had ordered tasted like home.

You didn't want to leave them. They were everything to you.

What hurt the most was knowing how much Noah had feared this. He had always been terrified of losing you, terrified of being replaced. You’d seen it in his eyes more times than you cared to count—the constant worry that one day, you’d leave him for someone else.

And now, here you were, standing at the precipice of exactly what he had feared. What he thought had happened between you and Jason had only confirmed his worst nightmare. And it was your fault. You had done this to him. It wasn’t what you’d wanted, but the damage was done.

And if you could go back to the night before, when Jason was on the doorstep, you wouldn't have hesitated to slam the door in his face, telling him that if this was all part of his stupid plan to get you back and ruin your life with Noah , he could go fuck himself.

You never, ever wanted to hurt him. If you could have taken back every single mistake, every moment where you had caused him pain, you would have in an instant.

Noah was really one of the best people you had ever known in your entire life. From the very first moment you had met him, you had felt something shift within you, something that you couldn’t fully understand at the time.

He had changed you, and not just in the way that love changes people. He made you see yourself in a new light, a better light. You had learned what it meant to truly be loved—without conditions, without hesitation, without fear. Every moment with him had been a treasure, a memory etched into your heart that you would carry with you forever.

But now, you were left with nothing but the crushing reality that you had shattered the one person who had given you everything. You loved him more than anything else in this world, more than life itself, but now you had to leave, if that's what he wanted. And you had no one to blame but yourself.

"Noah."

"Please." His voice cracked, his brown eyes were glassy. "Leave."

Your vision blurred, and tears started to spill relentlessly down your cheeks.

With one last glance around the room—at the life you had built with him, the house was starting to feel like home to you too—you stepped back.

"I'm so sorry for the pain I've caused you. You didn't deserve any of it."

You opened the door, knowing that this was the last time. The weight of your heart in your chest was unbearable, but there was nothing left to do but walk away.

You turned away, your heart breaking with every step. You walked out the door, knowing that something inside you had broken too.

Noah stood motionless in the center of the living room, the door closing behind you with a finality that rang in his ears like an executioner's bell. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think.

His body felt frozen, every muscle locked in place as if he was trapped in the aftermath of some devastating dream. His mind buzzed with the cruel reality of what had just happened —of how he had stood there, helpless, watching you walk out of his life.

After all, that was what he asked you to do. He was the one who told you to leave. Or maybe it was his broken heart speaking for him, either way the words had come out of his mouth. And you were gone now.

His chest was tight, every breath a struggle, as if the air itself had become too thick for him to inhale. The ache in his heart wasn’t just an emotion; it was a physical weight that crushed him from the inside out. His head was spinning.

The tears came slowly at first, like a whisper of pain that barely registered, but then they built, a flood that couldn’t be held back any longer. His chest shuddered with the sobs that ripped through him, his face contorting with the weight of his emotions.

He could feel the heat of the tears as they streamed down his face, but he didn’t bother wiping them away. He didn’t care anymore. Every part of him was unraveling, every thought tearing him apart.

He thought of you—God, how he thought of you. The way you had been his light, his strength, the one person who made him feel whole again after Hannah had left him. He had never expected to love again, to trust someone like this, but you had proven him wrong. You had made him believe in something real. And now… now you were gone.

How the fuck was he supposed to explain this to Luna?

Her innocent eyes, the way she trusted him you trusted you. He couldn’t imagine telling her that the person she’d grown so attached to, was never coming back. What would he say? That it was because of something he couldn’t control? That he had been too blind to see what was right in front of him? How could he explain this heartbreak to a little girl who just wanted to see her world stay the same? How could he tell her that the woman who had made pancakes with her, who had hugged her and told her bedstime stories, was just gone?

At the thought of Luna growing up without you—his heart shattered. You two were his family.

Noah sank down to the couch, his hands gripping the fabric, as if holding onto something solid would stop the shaking. His breathing was uneven, ragged, as the tears continued to spill from his eyes. He buried his face in his hands, pressing his palms against his eyes, wishing he could block out the reality that had crashed down on him.

He could still feel the sting of your absence, as if the very air was different without you in it. His chest was raw, empty, and he could barely catch his breath as the sobs wracked his body.

He had loved you so much. Too much. And now he was alone.

The door to the living room creaked open, but Noah didn’t hear it at first. His mind was consumed with the pain of your departure, with the image of you walking away, your back turned to him, leaving him in the ruins of what they had built together. He didn’t even register Luna’s small form standing in the doorway until she spoke.

"Daddy?" Her voice was soft, unsure, but it cut through him like a knife.

Fuck.

Noah froze, and for a moment, time stood still. His heart clenched at the sound of her voice—his little girl, standing there, her tiny face full of concern. She was holding Mr.Flop in a hand and she was wearing her favorite pink pijamas. She looked at him with wide eyes, confused by the sight of her dad crying in front of her for the first time.

He quickly wiped his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, trying to clear the evidence of his tears, trying to appear strong, but it was no use. She had already seen him, her big brown eyes noticing everything, even when he tried to hide it.

Luna took a tentative step forward, then another, her soft footsteps barely making a sound on the hardwood floor. She came closer and then, in the purest, most innocent way, her little voice broke the silence.

"Are you sad, daddy?"

It was the way she said it—so sweet, so trusting—that made his heart break even more. His arms opened instinctively as she reached him, her small body pressing against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder.

"Yeah. Dad's a bit sad right now. It will pass." He sobbed.

Noah held her tightly, burying his face in her hair, unable to stop the flood of tears. He couldn’t stop the sobs that shook his body, couldn’t stop the grief that felt as if it would swallow him whole. His fingers gently stroked her back as he tried to steady his breath, trying to reassure her, even though he couldn’t reassure himself.

“I love you, my Lu,” he whispered through his tears. “I love you so much.”

Her small hand patted his back, as if she understood, as if her little heart could feel his pain.

“I love you too, daddy." she murmured, her voice small.

Noah closed his eyes tightly, letting her words wash over him. The pain of losing you was still there, raw and crushing, but in this moment, holding her, he found a sliver of strength. For Luna. For her, he had to keep going, even when everything else felt unbearable.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, more to himself than to her. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

You slid into the driver's seat of your car, the cool leather pressing against your skin as you closed the door with a soft click. The morning light filtered through the windshield, casting a soft glow over the interior, but it felt distant, too bright, too unforgiving.

The silence was suffocating as you took a deep breath. Your hands gripped the steering wheel, fingers tightening around it, trying to steady yourself. After what seemed like hours, the tears had slowed, but the ache in your chest remained, a constant, gnawing weight.

You sat there for a moment, letting the stillness surround you, as if the car could somehow protect you from the world outside. The quiet felt almost unbearable, pressing in from all sides.

The city outside, still waking up, seemed so far away, as if you were in a different universe entirely. Your body trembled, the quiet grief of what had just happened settling deeper with each passing second.

And then, without warning, the flood of frustration and pain burst free.

A scream tore through you, raw and guttural, a release of everything you had been holding back. It was a sound of pure anguish, as if your very soul was crying out. Your voice cracked, your throat burned, but you couldn't stop. You screamed until it felt like the very air around you was vibrating with the force of it.

When it finally stopped, there was only silence again. But it was different this time—empty, hollow, and exhausting. Your breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, and you slumped forward, your head resting against the steering wheel as you tried to catch your breath.

That afternoon, the dim lighting of the bar flickered slightly above them, casting elongated shadows across the cracked wood of the table. Jason sat back in his chair, a smug grin curling up on his lips, the scent of cheap beer and stale cigarette smoke hanging heavy in the air. Across from him, Rick twirled the straw in his drink absently, his spiky black hair glistening under the dim bar lights.

Jason leaned forward, eyes glinting with a mixture of pride and mischief. “You know, man,” he said, his voice low and almost conspiratorial, “I told you this would work. I was right. Noah and her, they're done. I'm aure they're done. Thank you for leaving in the middle of the road, I guess.”

Rick looked up from his drink, his brow furrowing, the slightest flicker of concern in his eyes. “Wait. What do you mean? You actually think it worked?”

Jason smirked, clearly satisfied with himself. “You heard me. I'm sure they broke up. Just like I said.”

Rick blinked, processing for a moment, his fingers nervously tapping against the edge of his glass. The memories of the past—of all the stupid things they had done together—flickered behind his eyes. He remembered the convenience store incident, the stolen bottles of Jack Daniels, and how everything had spiraled from there. He’d followed Jason then, blindly, and here he was again, stuck in the same orbit.

He remembered the graffiti on private properties, the cops outside his house for disturbing the neighborhood with music in the middle of the night, the arrest for getting into a fight during a band's show in the city center, the time he bought a gun from a complete stranger, when he had lost a bet and had walked naked for thirty minutes through the streets of the town.

But this time, for the first time, Rick felt bad about it.

He cleared his throat, his voice hesitant. “So... you think she’s gonna come back to you now?”

Jason shrugged, tapping his fingers on the table, his blue eyes distant as he considered Rick’s question. “Honestly, I don’t know anymore. But who cares at this point? At least she’s not with Noah anymore.”

Rick shifted in his seat, discomfort gnawing at him. His mind was racing, piecing together the past and present. Jason was always like this—getting what he wanted, no matter who he had to hurt to get it. But this? This felt different. He could feel it in his gut, a quiet voice telling him this wasn’t right.

“And if she doesn’t come back to you?” Rick asked carefully, his tone almost guarded. “What then?”

Jason’s eyes hardened, the smirk turning into something colder. “If I can’t have her, neither can Noah.” He took a long sip of his beer. "And honestly, that's all that matters now."

Rick was starting to realize that that was wrong, but he stayed silent, unwilling to question Jason just yet. He had always been loyal, too loyal for his own good. He’d followed Jason into trouble before, and this felt like just another step down a familiar path. But the pit in his stomach kept growing, gnawing at him.

Jason’s eyes gleamed, satisfied with himself, as if he had already won.

Rick took a deep breath, trying to swallow the rising discomfort. He remembered when they were just a little more than kids, how Jason had always been the one with the plans, with the schemes. And Rick had always followed, too trusting, too eager to please. But this? This was different.

“You don’t think...” Rick started. “You don’t think you’re being a little... I don’t know... messed up? I mean, she’s not some... prize, Jason.”

Jason’s eyes flashed, a brief moment of anger flickering beneath the surface. “Don’t tell me what she is, Rick. You don’t get it. She doesn’t belong with him. She belongs with me or no one else.”

Rick couldn’t argue with that. He had seen the way Jason always believed he was entitled to everything he wanted, and in his mind, this was no different. But there was a nagging doubt inside him, something that was slowly starting to unravel the threads of loyalty he had to Jason.

“You really think you can just take her from Noah like that?” Rick asked quietly, his voice filled with uncertainty.

Jason didn’t hesitate. “Why not? If I can’t have her, I’m damn sure not letting Noah keep her.”

Rick met Jason’s eyes, searching for some trace of the friend he had once known, the one who had stood by him, who had shared his ridiculous ideas and reckless plans. But this time he wasn't sure he agreed with his ideas.

Jason leaned forward again, his voice lowering. “I won, okay? I fucking won, dude. Thank you for your help."

Rick said nothing. He simply took another sip of his drink, the cold liquid feeling like it couldn’t even touch the knot of guilt building in his chest. Part of him still wanted to believe Jason, wanted to go along with it. But another part of him was starting to wake up—to realize how much damage Jason was willing to cause just to get what he wanted.

And Rick wasn’t sure he could be a part of that anymore.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme

TBAF Tags: @klutzy-kay24 @mrscevans @concreteangel92 @iconic-taurus @niicoleleigh @cheyyyyr @supersquirrel1996 @respectfulrebel @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @clickmedead @missduffsblog @whenyouwannafindlove @chey-h @kenjipepsi1

[rabbitindisguise]

Idk if this will be helpful to anyone but a list of techniques I would use:

Confine the multipronoun character to one paragraph, and change paragraphs when another character speaks/is described/does something, noting the new character's name before switching to pronouns

Avoid dialogue tags altogether and focus on making the dialogue more obvious with heavy characterization and solid structure that makes who's speaking clear. Then later on you can sprinkle in some dialogue tags as looks appropriate once the reader grasps the character well enough to know what they would say in a certain situation

Use at least one neopronoun or singular they and use it in situations where the other character has the same pronoun but using names is way too clumsy

Probably don't switch within the same sentence (or don't make a habit of it). Unless you're committed to creating a multi pronoun user's dream come true narrative, it's difficult to follow because instinctively you're thinking "oh this is a new character." Much easier to describe them doing verb and then character continuing that verb with a different pronoun in the following sentence

Don't draw attention to it if you're not aiming to do that, it'll look sloppy instead of authentic to life. I've seen some authors make a big point of clashingly putting pronouns together and it's just not natural. Especially when other characters are speaking about them- even if someone is super good with using them equally, they often talk using one pronoun for one conversation/one day/etc and definitely at least for one sentence. But the MOST important thing about this is that people don't usually use pronouns for someone in front of them. So making a bunch of excuses for someone to refer to someone as if they're not there looks weird. Which could be the vibe you're going for- maybe you're writing a piece about gender and want it to smack you right in the face every sentence. But if you're trying to make it blend into the background it will not help to make a point of putting two different pronouns in the same sentence/same paragraph/same interaction with other characters.

Have pronouns that make sense to you. It can be difficult to juggle atypical neopronouns for you at the same time as trying to do multi pronouns for the character. Typing "him" instead of "his" on accident for example makes it even harder to read, and multi pronouns are already hard enough to read as it is (<- should not be smug about this, but is, because he don't have multiple pronouns because it's easy)

Context!!! This one is the most obvious but it really helps.

You can loosen up the further into the narrative you are because they'll be able to guess based on how the character is behaving and characterization.

Example:

Carin tapped his foot irately, becoming the human personification of anxiety. The clock said they were ten minutes late, and the time on his phone said twenty. If they didn't show up soon he was just going to-

The bell chimed and they stepped into the room, telescoping the umbrella with a SNAP! that could barely be heard over the chatter in the coffee shop. The noise didn't abate at all when they entered and the bell chimed again as the door fell shut.

"It's about damn time," he said. Worry creased his brow.

They looked like they were going to apologize and thought better of it. "I don't see what the rush is."

She rolled her eyes. "I told you, we have a deadline."

"So you've said. Like five times." They sounded more amused than stressed now that they were in the shop and out of the rain. The umbrella folded up into a little tube, one of those tiny ones you could get at target. They flagged down the barista.

He groaned. "Do we really have time for coffee?"

"Hi! I'll have a latte, and xie will have an cappuccino."

The barista looked at xir warily, but shrugged xir off. She looked a bit stressed herself since the place was packed with people trying to escape the downpour. Okay, a lot stressed. But the thought of that was making xim feel bad so xie tried not to think about it. [Alternatively: The barista looked at her warily, but shrugged her off. She looked a bit stressed herself since the place was packed with people trying to escape the downpour. Okay, a lot stressed. But thinking about the barista's situation was making her feel bad so she tried not to think about it.]

"Will that be for here or to go?"

"To go. Thanks."

The sound of change made her eyebrow twitch.

"You didn't have to-"

"You looked like you could use a coffee. Now. The deadline?" They asked, leaning their hip against the counter near the WAIT HERE FOR YOUR COFFEE :) sign.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

ok i brought this up in a discord server already but i'm gonna ask this here as well for maximum coverage

when writing characters who use multiple pronouns, what's the best way to avoid confusion?

no i'm not making this a poll as the answers are bound to be a lot more nuanced than a multiple choice question can do justice lmao

[moonsidesong]

i still enjoy the bfb finale on the whole i think but. like. i really do have to admit the final confrontation with four on the sun is pretty stupid HAHFHAHA

[sunshine-and-her-ikevil-stuff]

*thinking about the villains' tragic fates*

You know, their routes never really talk too much about their fates and how it effects them mentally. Or how the MC feels about it, and dealing with the fear and angst of it with the slight exception of William's route

*eyes widen*

... I think I know what the sequels are gonna be about

[moeblob]

Look, I just think it's VERY funny and on brand that I thought of an entire premise of colorful characters for half the cast and immediately drew the only one void of color.

[ganondoodle]

i often really do feel like an .. unwanted part of the fandom, i dont draw beautiful landscapes, i have unpopular but strong opinions im constantly annoying about and rarely change, dont like/dont draw the pretty young popular twinks and hot gurls to fanboi over nor do i turn characters into one, the opposite moreso, draw only one ship no ones heard of really, got little energy to interact with the few people that are nice to me and send me asks so it probably looks like im ignoring everyone and unfortunately but still rarely get so stressed i get overwhelmed and emotional about pehaps seemingly minor things and spiral almost into a breakdown feeling super embarrassed about it afterwards but the damage is already done and i look like a freak or agressive weirdo

[transmascutena]

these lines hit different when you read utena as transmasc

[writer-room]

Honestly Rayla is equally 100% ride or die for Callum too.

That's so true I almost mentioned it in that post. They're so ridiculously feral for each other it's hilarious to watch. Callum's the legitimate "we ride AND die together" whereas Rayla is the "I will ride and die FOR you" sort of deal yknow?

Could be literally any situation, no matter how dangerous, and she's already decided she will die here. Does it ensure Callum lives? Then batter-up buckeroo we're going in swords blazing! Everyone cheer and clap for her human or she'll blow this whole place up. Kinda person who says "even if you hate me I'd still lose everything if it meant you were okay". She thinks they're in a tragic love story where she's always at risk of losing him but that's okay as long as it keeps him safe and happy like y'know Viren parallels, she'd risk losing her very self for him over and over. Except Callum would wait until the end of the world itself, and even beyond, and she wouldn't even have to ask.

The difference between them, really, is that Rayla will die for Callum on any given day. Callum will kill for Rayla on any given day. Something something matching sets

[inkesse]

For the first time ever, I used tarot as a method to try and contact Lord Apollo. I've been anxious about it for a while, but today the sun shone brightly and I saw some beautiful art of him, so I just.. felt compelled to give it a try. It went better than I ever could have expected and I truly do feel cared for, and that what I do in devotion to him is enough.

[nexus-nebulae]

yknow i think im starting to feel like im not entirely comfortable with endo neutrals following us bc like. ok let's say im trans. and i have an also queer friend who is not trans. but then they start talking about how they have transphobic friends and still like hanging out with them? yeah, that's not someone i would ever feel safe around again.

i believe people's word on their lived experiences. if you are totally okay with a community that weaponizes ableism and sanism and death threats against a group of people who are just trying to exist as themselves, then i do not feel safe around you whatsoever. if you interact with anti endos I'm going to assume you support them. and i do not fucking know or care what my own origin is and am never going to reveal that honestly PRIVATE information- but if any one of you (general) is ok with other people harassing my endo friends, then you are not a safe person for me to be around.

[mourn-and-watch]

Would you pls tell us your thoughts and opinions on Carver? I too love him, he's so prickly and fighting so hard all the time to keep his head above the water and keep his remainibng sibling alive and free, and a lot of DA fans are so down on him because "oh he's grumpy though:(".

oh i'm always happy to talk about carver!

actually, i love that he's grumpy! and i also firmly believe that bethany is grumpy as well but it is overlooked in the same way carver's reasons to be grumpy are, but it's a topic for another day. anyway!

his whole deal - being a younger sibling who tires to fulfill the role of cool-headed one, who at the same time is still obviously young and too hot-tempered - hits a little too close to home sometimes, to be honest, and this is what i really really like about him. he is a character who genuinely tries his best, but fails because of how unexperienced and flawed he is (and how he doesn't have time or proper conditions to work on it in act 1, considering the situation his family is trapped in). he tries to join the guard, but gets turned down, he follows hawke everywhere to help them, he's also the one who cares about going on the expedition the most, because he realises that it's their best chance to make sure their family survives - and if he doesn't join it as well, he becomes a templar first of all out of necessity, because at this point he ran out of options and there's no guarantee his sibling will come back with enough money to restore their nobility status.

he is often rude and insensitive around hawke and their friends and his words and petty passive aggressive insults sound so childish, because, well, he was what, eighteen when the blight happened and he witnessed the ostagar massacre and also lost his father and sister? he hasn't still, you know, fully grown up, he's still so young and has so much bottled-up anger and trauma already, because his family has been living under constant stress his whole life and it has never got better. he may come across as pro-templar considering his approval and comments, but when you get to see the whole picture, aka his development through all acts, you can understand how false that statement is - he's genuinely terrified of losing hawke as well, and pro-mage hawke constantly puts themself in harm's way and sticks their neck out for people they barely know, and if it ends badly, nobody will be able to do anything about it, and carver believes he's the only one who realizes how fucked up their situation is. on top of that, he's always been struggling with feeling overshadowed, and now people who he hangs out with the most are his sibling's friends, not his own, and at least some of them just love to make fun of him and his issues. they tolerate him for being hawke's sibling. they don't care for him for any other reason.

none of it makes his actions and words righteous, though! it makes them understadable and his arc meaningful and satisfying, especially the warden route. i did the templar route once and don't remember the details well, but the point still stands - carver, no matter who he serves, always chooses his family first. and it has weight, it has meaning! because the other very important aspect of carver's character is him searching for his purpose, a desire to become his own person. both wardens and templars offer it to him, and in the end he will abandon his duties - and straight up betray his order in templar's case, and it's not, like, a futile sacrifice. by the end of act 3, it's been six years of his service. and his loyalty to hawke prevails even though they've been apart almost all this time and, as a result, became more distant in one way or another - but his sibling's safety continues to be his priority, even if he doesn't approve of their choices or isn't as close to them as he used to be. they're his only family left, and throughout the course of the plot he learns that it is important not only to care, but also to show he cares before it's too late.

and it's like, the general overall plot arc thing. i also love his dlc batner in act 2/act 3 because you can see how less antagonistic and more chill his dialogue becomes! his pettiness never fades away, for sure, but it's a part of his character i've grown fond of at this point and it's also very heartwarming to see other characters admit it as well. like, yeah, he still gets easily annoyed and still can start an argument, but he's learnt to keep it down when needed and grown to be more understanding. he's also so embarrassed about his past behaviours sometimes, it's genuinely endearing

i've talked about it once, but a lot of da2 character arcs either result in a little and still painful growth or in a straight up decline. and i still love it because, you know, a beauty of a tragedy. but this is also a reason why warden carver is so dear to me. he starts as a very distressed character, stuck in an uncomfortable environment, having no idea what to do with himself anymore, but joining the wardens really makes him shine. he's doing something good now, and he's good at it as well. the realisation of his inevitable warden fate makes him appretiate life and people in it more. among the wardens he's carver hawke, not simply hawke's brother, and he's respected for it. he becomes calmer and wiser, his grudges lose importance and his love for his family isn't tainted by it anymore. his opinion of hawke and relationship with them becomes more mature, and it culminates in his bittersweet speech and farewell before the final battle. it's genuinely a positive, hopeful growth, and while there's a little to no chances we'll see him again in another game, i hope when people in weisshaupt hear hawke family name mentioned, their first thought is about warden hawke, not champion of kirkwall

[sollucets]

guys i am trying Really hard not to have public opinions about of this morning... pray for me

[unnamed-atlas]

Finally finished sweet tooth s3. Having incredibly mixed feelings

[goldenpinof]

.

[valvesoftware]

breakups are so fucking weird. three years and just like that it's gone. huh

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

i like coming across a blog where someone is like hardcore blogging abt Something and theyre like a couple of layers of meta and headcanons and discussion into this and then my task is to figure out what the Thing is