#[fake void event]

[prof-polaris]

Closed rp starter for @ask-pokeprofvoid

'Wheeling through snow fucking sucks' Indigo thought idly to themselves. 'I wonder how hard it would be to convince Viv to move with Sprite and I to Johto...I could get her the biggest magikarp pond of all time....'

Tiph grunts, as if sensing Indigo's discontent. She had been uneasy since Indigo had first figured out Viv was missing, Flicker too. The two typhlosions melted the snow around them so Indigo would move forward. Hench flew overhead, cawing loudly. They were almost there.

Eventually a lab finally came into view, and Indigo let out a sigh of relief, pushing their wheelchair to move faster.

"Vivianne!! Viv, are you here?? Love??"

[mementoasts]

they're selling photocards of spirius agents now 💀

[stow-on-side-ghosts]

void is acting weird. don't think i believe her when she just says the lighting. she doesn't usually do filters.

[gwendoline-of-lumiose]

There is an imposter among us!

...

That was a weird spoiler filter.

[sparklingchim]

game on | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2.2k

genre: footballer!jungkook, fake dating, f2l

rating: pg

warnings: koo gets scolded for sleeping around 🥺, playboy jk <3, hints of a threesome 🫢, oc fights w a laundry machine

summary: jungkook is in desperate need to polish up his playboy image, and naturally, he turns to you for help.

a/n: hii my pretty besties!!!! it's my bday😋 so i wanted to share this silly piece i've been having so much fun writing!!! love uuu n treat urself to smth nice for me today <3 mwah😙

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Jeon Jungkook is a charming man – and he is well aware of the fact. He plays that card effortlessly.

Most of the time, it works in his favour.

But sometimes, it backfires spectacularly and gets him into trouble.

Which is why he stands in front of his fuming manage, who is radiating enough anger to fill the entire office.

The sight isn’t foreign to Jungkook. He wouldn’t say he is used to it, but he has found himself often enough in this situation to recognise the signs of deep trouble.

Not only is Jungkook’s charm complicating things, but the fact that he is famous too.

Sometimes, he uses that as an advantage. Not in an obvious way — never by flaunting his own achievements or demanding special treatment.

That’s not his style.

His name alone carries weight, and he knows how to let it work for him, quietly bending the world to his will... until the world pushes back.

And right now, it’s pushing back hard.

One thing Jeon Jungkook does enjoy about being a pro footballer, though, is the way women obsess over him.

He knows they love him – sees it in the comments they leave on his ig posts, sees it in the DMs flooding his inbox daily, and experiences it firsthand at public events, where hordes of fans scream his name. Jungkook thrives on that attention.

However, something he doesn’t love, and what he was never prepared for, is the media. The way they scrutinise his every move, how his face ends up on every headline anytime he does something remotely noteworthy.

And now, thanks to his latest shenanigan getting caught by the press, here he is. Standing in front of his manager, Taesung, and his PR agent, Jiwoo, eyes downcast, bracing himself for the scolding that’s already begun.

“You’ve gone too far this time, Jungkook.”

His manager speaks in a flat, monotonous voice, void of even the slightest hint of disappointment, as if he’d long since given up expecting anything different.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to clean up the mess you leave behind?”

A sense of guilt creeping up on Jungkook, even though he knows if he were just a regular guy, none of this would matter at all. And he finds it a bit unfair.

But to survive in this business, you can’t complain about unfairness.

“Have you completely lost your mind?” Taesung barks.

Jungkook remains silent. He forces himself to.

“If there was more involved than just alcohol-”

“No! Nothing like that,” he denies, his response firm and immediate. “It was just alcohol – and, well, just good vibes because we won the last match, and with the World Cup being next, everyone was just really excited.”

If he had known what kind of trouble a simple, innocent celebration of his team’s win at a club would bring, he would’ve gone straight home yesterday. He would’ve skipped the rounds of drinks, the flashing lights, the loud music, and definitely the attention. But hindsight was useless now.

“Good,” his manager says. “I’m glad you were happy.” Mock sympathy drips from his voice. “Perhaps the last time you are going to be happy this year.”

Jungkook nods, accepting the gravity of the situation. No more clubs, no more parties, no more girls.

At least, not for a while. His reputation had taken a few hits recently, and this latest mess wasn’t helping. He could almost hear the whispers: reckless, irresponsible, unprofessional. The kind of things that could ruin him if he didn’t get a handle on it.

He clenched his jaw. No more distractions. From now on, it was all about the game. He needed to remind everyone why he was Jeon Jungkook — the best on the field, not just the headlines.

“You’re no longer in for the World Cup. You’re out.”

His head snaps up at that. Did he hear that right?

“What?! What do you mean?”

“Myungbo doesn’t want you on the team anymore.” Taesung’s words sound heavy and final.

Jungkook’s heart pounds in his ears.

His world tilts. The room seems to spin, the edges of his vision darkening. This wasn’t just a setback — it was a disaster. The World Cup was everything to him, and now it felt like it was slipping through his fingers. The crushing weight of the news settles on his chest, making it hard to breathe. One silly night is all that happened.

He can’t believe that a single photo of him leaving the club with two girls clinging to each arm has cost him his spot on the national football team. He went home with two girls – so what?

But he doesn’t voice his frustration. He knows better than to add fuel to the fire. Speaking his mind now would only escalate the situation and make things worse. Jungkook knows from experience.

He swallows hard, forcing himself to stay calm. His pulse is still racing, but he takes a deep breath, focusing on controlling his emotions. He has to keep a level head if he’s going to find a way to fix this.

“There has to be a way to fix this.” His eyes move to Jiwoo, his PR agent. “Right?”

His manager fixes him with a stern glare. “Jungkook, remember the promise you gave everyone a few months ago?” Taesung reminds him.

Jungkook cringes. When he made a promise to avoid actions that might damage his reputation, he didn’t think it’d be that serious. He cut back on going out, made the effort to play the role of the “good boy” but really – come on. He can’t maintain that facade for an eternity. Especially after a triumphant victory like yesterday’s.

Taking away his spot on the national football team? He didn’t think that was possible.

“How many more times do we have to fix your problems, because you don’t care enough? How many times do we have to repeat this scenario?”

“I promise I’ll better myself,” he pleads desperately, looking back and forth between his manager and his PR agent. Someone has to believe him, help him.

“Do you genuinely believe this country wants to be represented by a 20-year-old boy, who can’t keep his personal life under control?” Taesung asks, eyebrows deeply pinched together. “This isn’t just about you, Jungkook. It’s about the team, the fans, and the nation. They need a role model, not a scandal waiting to happen.”

“I know. I know.” Jungkook scrambles for something convincing to say, desperate to sway their decision. This can’t be it. He won’t let his career take a hit because of something like this. “But – but this isn’t too bad. This is fixable. I can fix this.” His voice quivers with a desperation he barely recognises as his own. “Jiwoo.” Jungkook turns to her with pleading eyes. “You always know what to do. Please, help me”

“I did propose an idea but-”

“We’re not doing that,” Taesung cuts in. “It’s off the table.”

“What is it?” Jungkook’s eyes bounce back and forth between them. “I’ll do anything. This is – this is everything to me. You have to give me a chance.”

Taesung scoffs. “A chance? As far as I know, you have been given countless chances.”

Sweat coats the back of Jungkook’s neck.

Taesung understands just how much Jungkook has fought to secure his place on the national team. He’s well aware that it’s one of Jungkook’s greatest dreams, a pinnacle of his career that he’s poured countless hours of hard work and sacrifice into. That’s why, each morning, when he wakes up to the latest news of Jungkook’s escapades, he feels a deep sense of disappointment, texting Jungkook with a dejected shake of his head to visit his office first thing in the morning.

When it’s all he wants, like Jungkook claims, why doesn’t he act like it?

“If the head coach won’t give me a chance now, he’ll never do. This is my last opportunity to change his mind, make him rethink. I need to at least try.”

Jiwoo looks at the manager, waiting for his approval. He nods.

“Very simply put: you need a girlfriend,” she says.

For a second, Jungkook is at loss for words.

“A girlfriend? How’s that going to help?” Jungkook tilts his head in confusion. This is not how he thought Jiwoo was going to save him.

“You need a girlfriend to help polish up your image as a player. It’ll make you appear more like a gentleman, softer and nicer. We need to completely shift public perception and counter the negative image they’ve formed about you. It’s all about changing the narrative,” she explains.

“And that is not something we can easily achieve,” Taesung interjects. “Rebranding your entire persona is not feasible at this stage. You’ve been projecting what kind of boy you are to the media for the past two years. It’s going to be incredibly difficult to make a sudden shift look genuine.”

“No! We — I can make it seem real. This is my only chance,” Jungkook insists, his voice gaining a hint of determination. For a moment, breathing feels a bit easier again. “The World Cup is just a month away. That’s enough time to shift public opinion and prove I’m worthy of representing the country on the team.” There’s a hopeful lilt in his voice as he speaks, clinging to the belief that he might not have to bid farewell to his biggest dream after all.

But his manager doesn’t look as hopeful as Jungkook feels.

“How are we going to find a girl who will agree to this? Someone who isn’t an obsessive fan, understands this is purely professional, and can keep quiet? You won’t be able to pull this off.”

“I was actually thinking-” Jiwoo starts, but she’s cut off.

Jungkook hesitates, glancing between them before speaking. “Actually... I think I already have someone in mind.” His voice is more measured now. “That’s not the issue.” Jungkook doesn’t need to think twice.

Taesung sighs while Jiwoo looks at Jungkook apologetically.

“You can’t rebrand your entire persona from a playboy to a lover boy within a month, Jungkook. This is over.” His manager shakes his head, a sense of finality glimmering in his eyes.

One thing that Jungkook forgot to mention is that he is an extremely competitive man, too.

~

“This is ridiculous.”

You kick the laundry machine in frustration, but all you end up doing is yelping and clutching your aching foot.

“That’s the third time this month,” you mutter under your breath. “What did I even spend all that money on if it’s just going to break down whenever it feels like it?”

You shoot a death glare at the machine, teetering on the edge of losing your mind.

“Guess I’ll have to use the public laundromat again,” you sigh, grabbing the overflowing laundry basket filled with your and your roommate's clothes, and heading out of the bathroom with a huff.

On your way to the front door, the doorbell rings.

Please, you think. You were hoping for some quiet, uninterrupted time to deep-clean your dorm on this peaceful Sunday with no one around.

But when you peek through the peephole and see Jungkook standing there, your frustration melts away. You swing the door open, the laundry basket tumbling to the floor beside you in your haste.

“Jungkook!” you exclaim. “You’re timing is perfect! Can you please fix my laundry machine again? It’s been acting up, and I’m getting frustrated.” You groan annoyed.

Jungkook doesn’t share the same excitement upon seeing you.

You grow smaller and take an indecisive step back.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, noticing the tension in his features. “Did you lose the match yesterday? I couldn’t keep up because I had too much cramming to do last night.”

While studying medicine had always been your dream, the reality is less exciting. Right now, it means sleepless nights and relentless pressure. You know that pursuing this path will offer you many privileges later in life, but you have to suffer first.

“I need your help.”

His dark eyes, usually bright and full of energy, seem clouded with worry, and his hair falls messily over his forehead, like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times in frustration.

“Are you okay?” You study him closely, scanning his face for any signs of injury. Physically, he seems fine — still tall, muscular, and as fit as ever. But something is clearly off.

“You need to do something for me.”

“I can help,” you reply, your voice soft with concern. ‘But what is it…?”

“Can you be my girlfriend?”

You blink, repeatedly.

“Huh?”

You start giggling when he doesn’t add more. You expect him to clarify or laugh along, but Jungkook stays serious, stepping closer and gently taking your hands in his. You look down at them, then back up at his face, utterly bewildered.

“You’re silly, Jungkook. If someone on the team made you do this, tell them you did the punishment and quit acting so weird.”

It’s too early in the morning for Jungkook’s nonsense.

“No, ___, you don’t understand.” He squeezes your hands when he feels you trying to pull them back. “I actually need you to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Fake date me.”

[elder-millennial-of-zion]

Goyim are so angry that they’ve had to pretend to care about the holocaust up until now, and they are so excited to finally have an excuse to stop pretending to care.

They’ve been so mad, so resentful, that we “get” to have the holocaust. Because that’s how they look at it; not as an incalculable loss, not as a trauma that has scarred us for generations, not as something that made our world that much poorer for the loss of whole communities, of diverse traditions and legacies and contributions. Not as a real event that hurt real people.

Goyim view the holocaust as yet another expression of Jewish privilege, as a winning play in the oppression olympics. We “get” to have an irrefutable case of genocide in recent history that we can point to as proof that we still belong to the category of “oppressed” on a technicality. They view it as a card we can play to win arguments, as an unfair advantage that gives us the best of both worlds - we get to label ourselves “oppressed” even though we’re the “real” oppressor, thus securing for ourselves the privileges and advantages of both. They’ve been so angry at us for what they see as cosplaying as an oppressed minority when it’s so obvious to them that we’re the ultimate ruling class. They hate that they’ve had to be nicer to us, that they had to pretend not to hate us quite so much, because of the holocaust. To them, the benefits for Jews invoking the Holocaust far outweigh the disadvantages of having actually experienced it.

They are so gleeful to finally get away with putting an expiration date on the holocaust, to declare it officially null and void. And beyond that, they are positively giddy to weaponize it against us. They’ve jumped at the chance to say with impunity that Jews are the real Nazis, that Jews are the ones carrying out the Holocaust, that we’re fake victims impersonating real oppressed minorities while we’re the ones perpetuating the real oppression. Not only is the Holocaust irrelevant, a thing of the past, it never really existed in the first place.

Too many goyim are way too excited to be able to engage in flat out holocaust denial, to spew as much hatred towards Jews as they want, and not only face no consequences, but be rewarded with a reputation as virtuous and committed to true social justice and human rights.

[ruruumin]

put me in, coach

₊˚ ᗢ itoshi rin x fem! reader.

⤷ you were given one last chance in the industry.

with a sharp inhale, you choked up a sob, biting down on the bottom of your lip as you lay on the ground, helplessly waiting for a medic. your cheeks were burning with a mixture of humiliation and frustration. on the ground, like a damsel in distress, you were waiting to be saved. holding onto the fake grass with enough force to rip the tarp from the ground up, you stare at the clear sky, trembling. the game comes to a screeching halt but unable to catch a break, your lungs burn at every instance. the wind had been knocked out of you. 

squeezing your dominant leg with one hand, you restrained seething tears. looking up at your opponent, your eyes widen. standing above you with the sun shining down upon their shoulders, they smiled slowly, pupils collapsing in on themselves like a spiral wishing well. unbeknownst to the cameras, they watch gleefully as you were carried away on a stretcher, your arms reaching out to them as if to grab a hold of their throat. 

after making it past the dark tunnels, you finally let yourself cry for the first time in years. an unfortunate mishap that caused you not only the world cup, but your pride and soul. you held your face in your hands, shielding your pitiful expression from the blinding lights of the ambulance. 

→ WORLD-CLASS ATHLETE (NAME) TEARS THEIR ACL: IS THIS THE END OF HER SOCCER CAREER?

↳ retrogamer129: no way, this might actually be the end of (name)’s career

↳ fuumuni: did you guys see the way the other team sabotaged her? so fucked up

↳ (name)fangirl101: they need to be held responsible, if you look back on the clips, you can see they had no remorse for what they did

↳ cherrybomb_249: it looked like it could have been an accident. don’t point fingers and ruin someone else’s soccer career over a mistake

that was a year ago. 

your physician told you it was best to retire your gear. athletes like yourself wouldn’t be able to compete on a competitive level. unable to go back onto the field, your absence hung heavy over the country. your team weren’t able to make the world cup without you. with your injury, your career was left hanging on a balance. the club you were once in had to disband. things just began to spiral out of your control. from friends and family sending you get well messages and flowers, none of it could have filled the void in your heart. 

everyone hears stories about people’s dreams getting cut short. 

but not a single person wants to be in that story, including you. 

wrapping your arms around your legs, they are pressed flush against you. forehead against your knees, you think about the events that led up to this moment. all the things that made you, you. from the day of your birth, to your first soccer game, to accepting the biggest offer of your life, it was all seen through a small looking glass. 

you remember when you were younger, you would play a lot of soccer with a boy named itoshi sae. he had this light, red-bean-colored hair with his bangs pulled back, exposing not only his forehead but the permanent scowl he was born with. he was a good player. taught you a few things that led to you getting accepted into a fancy soccer club from out of the country. you dedicated a hat trick to him before. 

he had a rowdy little brother that always looked up to you. when he wasn’t playing with his ultraman and dinosaur toys, he would be at your practices, watching you kick a ball into a goal. your friends would tease you about his small crush. but you chalked it up to admiration. he looks at you the same way he does to sae. like an older sibling figure you caved the way for him. he’d always tug on your hand whenever you bought him popsicles, reaching out with his chubby fingers as he insisted you share with him (a rare feat, his mother once told you, rin doesn’t like to share. especially when it comes to popsicles). 

he and sae had a lot of similarities. whether it be the scowl on his face or the way they both liked to eat those cheap, blue popsicles from the nearby convenience store, they were bound by more than just blood. they had a lot of talent riding on them and even the most ordinary of people can see it. however, for you, it felt like a looming figure that held its hand over your eyes. one day, you knew, they would overshadow you. 

when you left to study abroad, you were a little sad to see a tiny rin wave to you at the airport. it was obvious he was holding back tears. you were the first person in his little circle to leave japan. the second would be his older brother who followed closely behind you, insisting that there were better plays out in the world, and that he needed to expand his mind to keep up. 

unlike sae however, you would frequently keep up with rin on the phone. calling him once in a while, checking up on his studies and watching recorded videos of his games (curtsey of his mom, as you begged her before to record his games). it seemed like things hadn’t changed since you left. you knew in your heart that the two itoshi brothers had something special within them, something so odd it kept you on your toes, expecting something spectacular to come in the future. but the overwhelming presence of their talent left you with uncertainty about your career. 

regardless, when you left japan, you had met another oddball: a tall, lanky man who loved nothing but soccer. he was your coach leading up to the world cup. you had once asked him, ‘if there was anything you wanted to be in the world, what would it be?’ and he replied rather eagerly. 

number one. 

after that point on, you knew he was the right person for you. he pushed you in ways other coaches hadn’t and created what might have been the best female soccer player at the time. you owe your career to him. and while you were only able to play a few games with him while he was training you, you learned so much more than you could have ever dreamed of. 

from small quips here and there about a person’s talent and ego, as well as the brutal reality that is overexhausting yourself, he was one of best coaches you had to this day. he gave you a chance that everyone else on the team overlooked and brought you into this world. 

ego had given you something no one else did. 

so when a mysterious letter shows up at your doorstep, you were certain it was him. 

✦

“please welcome my former student and previous runner-up for the world cup: (name) (last name).” 

walking through the dramatic double-sliding doors, you push back your bangs, huffing as you tilt your head off to the side. observing the large room, you were met with a large group standing tall and excited. the first thing that came to mind was how colorful they looked. 

“she’ll be training and determining whether or not you’ll make it to the next selection. if you play less than satisfactory, you can kiss your soccer dreams goodbye, and lock off,” ego claps his hands together, “for this small buffer period, you’ll be playing against each other using your current team. when you are not on the field, you’ll be given individual training periods to help strengthen yoru skills.”

a voice quickly pipes up: “why is a girl teaching us? couldn’t you have gotten someone from the men’s world cup?”

“isn’t she still injured?” 

the man could only hum. cracking his neck, he looks off into the crowd with the same deadpan expression, “even if she is injured, it wouldn’t matter. she was a good player, therefore she’d make a valuable coach. it’d be a waste to let that level of talent slip by and rot.” 

with that, ego turns his body around, straightening his back as he walks through the doors. you were surprised to hear that was all he had for you. you half-expected him to chew you out for losing the world cup so easily. but perhaps there was some semblance of pity and understanding on his side that no one else could see. 

a shiver runs down your spine. rotating your body in the direction of danger, you face this overwhelming beast amongst men. in front of everyone else, rin stands alone, arms dropped to the side. he looks to you with a cold stare. awkwardly avoiding his gaze, you let out a deep sigh, head pointed down as you read off the list of names given to you on your tablet. 

the correct term for the feeling in your chest is shame. you don’t want him to see you so instead of being the bigger person, you hide behind a screen, reading off everyone else’s name slower than you did his. 

when you left for the world cup, you promised him that you would return with something to show. to come back to japan with nothing in your hands meant you failed in more ways than one. not only did you let your team, club, and country down, you had shattered the promise you had given to rin several years ago. 

at the very least, sae had something to show for all his efforts, but for you? there was nothing. all you had was the legacy you left behind for the next person to take up. a stepping stone for someone else’s ambition and a figment of history.

now the boy you used to share popsicles with was growing far out of your reach, the imaginary shadow of his talent shines greater above you. not only was he a lot taller and leaner than you remember, he was getting better at an alarming rate. and with him at blue lock, it was almost certain you’d see his name show up in the u-20 match that ego promised everyone. 

you’re starting to feel pressure rising to your ears. like water getting funneled into your canals and deafening any sort of noise that flies past you. if it was anyone else, would they have failed this badly? or was it a fate simply destined for you? 

squeezing your eyes shut, you leave the room, not before announcing the first set of games. you drag your feet as a familiar pair of turquoise eyes follow. 

✦

“this is a lot harder than i thought.” 

as the day comes to an end, some of the boys at blue lock finally get to settle into their rooms. gathering around at the edges of their bed, they sigh in relief, free from the training many dubbed hell. 

most of them thought training would be as easy as any other task. however, it seemed like they underestimated blue lock again. instead of the standardized tests like shooting goals, every person had a different task and weakness they had to work through. for example, reo needed help to hone his new chameleon technique, nagi had to work on his stamina, and isagi had a full-body workout to perfect his direct shots. everyone else was in a similar boat, having been worked to the bone.

chigiri falls back onto the soft, comfortable mattress, too tired to brush out the knots in his hair. “she’s crazy strict. i had to do 30 laps around the field before i could even shoot a goal. by that time, my legs were already giving up on me.”

“laps don’t sound too bad, i had to kick like–a hundred soccer balls just to get even close to replicating rin’s arc shot.” 

“i would have never expected her to be so strict,” isagi comments, “i knew she was good but this is on another level. she can see all of our weaknesses and tweak our training as needed. i have to admit, my muscles are feeling prepped and ready for our next match.” 

“only yo uwould think about it so positively,” these were nagi’s last words before he closes his eyes, falling asleep immediately like a light switch.

isagi can only scratch the back of his neck, “this is going to be the hardest test by far. i don’t think rin is having it any easier.” 

at the mention of his name, the rest of the room groans in unison. what lies ahead of them will be more games to come, and more training alongside with it. if the token blue lock boy had it hard, everyone else would be in for a hell of a ride. 

meanwhile, in the other room, there were two people left on the pitch. 

raising his right leg, rin kicks the ball using equal amounts of spin and force. watching as it soars through the air and curves to the top left of the goal, it collides with the net easily. raising his eyebrow, he quickly looks over at your direction, seeing you crouched with an unamused expression on your face. this reaction causes him to deflate slightly.

“again.” 

hitting the ball once more, it spins with the same amount of curve but with more power. the force from this kick nearly knocked over the goal entirely. even though it was better than his previous shot, there was no denying the cold, slick sound of your voice cutting through his ego like butter.

“again.”

same with the third time, you continue to ask him for the same kick, over, and over again. and while he’s all for long training sessions, this was getting ridiculous. for once, he’s feeling the burn in his legs and the tickling sensation on the tip of his tongue. bending over, he wipes away the small trickle of drool that escapes his lips. 

“why am i doing the same thing? we should be moving onto something else.” 

“because it’s not good enough,” you reply, tapping your fingers on the small tablet, “with a kick like that, it’s difficult for it to be properly reproduced with the same success. your accuracy is off at times and the power you put in is fluctuating.” 

standing up, you brush the dirt off your knees, “but if you think we should move on, we can start doing laps again. i need to see how you do when you’re at your worst.” 

“no.” 

“huh?”

“i can make the next shot.”

“you just told me you wanted to do something else—” stepping forward, you press a finger to his chest, “so you’re going to do another lap until you’re ready to take another shot.” 

his gaze sharpens to a pinpoint. wiping away the bead of sweat on his temple, he huffs. slapping your hand away, he stands before you, unwavering in his form. he was towering over you with a force weighing you down. wrapping your fingers around your tablet, you straighten your back, exhaling with nervousness. 

“what is it?”

taking a step back, he takes one forward, closing the distance. 

with him being so close to you, he can see the way your eyes have aged over time. they no longer held the same light he grew up seeing as a child. the fiery passion that once ignited your soul had now died into a small, handheld flame he could smother in an instant. so things have drastically changed since he last saw you at the airport. 

are you going to come home soon? when is the next time i’ll see you? rin asked, holding onto his older brother’s hand. although it must have been at least five years since he said those words, he could still taste the sweet and bitter chocolate from the croissant you bought him. this memory was when it was early in the morning, right before you were going to board the next flight. alongside your mother and father, his family was accompanying them to say their final goodbyes.

only when i win the world cup! you replied, throwing up a confident peace sign in his direction, when i come back, let’s play a game together!

rin shouted, you promise?

yup! popping the p, you turned around and waved, grinning for what felt like the last time.

the shock that washed over him the day you lost was like cold water. submerged in the dark, cruel ocean he watched as you covered your eyes from the cameras, your body getting carried away as your knee pulsated with pain. 

instead of coming home with pride, you returned timid and afraid. after losing the world cup to another team, you had lost everything. from trophies to respect, it was gone in an instant. in one, final crushing blow to the knee. 

he had always hoped it wouldn’t be you that had fallen. but now that it’s been an entire year, the truth remains the same. 

“when did you get so pathetic?” he brushes you aside, drawing a breath between his lips, “you used to be the best player, right next to sae.”

he audibly grits his teeth, “and now you’re playing coach to a bunch of children.”

“what?”

“you heard me. you’re wasting all of our time here, including yours.”

rin reaches out to one of the soccerballs on the ground, rolling it against the tip of his foot as you stand off to the side, unable to form a coherent sentence. 

“what happened to you that day?” 

from the painful ride to the hospital to the familiar shade of cheap, blue popsicles, your memory grows a bit hazy. when the paramedics pushed down on your muscle to try and support your leg, you barely remember what they told you. let alone, what they whispered about when you were stationed in a private room.

so when rin asks you about the events that led to this moment, to you standing in front of him not as a player but a coach, your lips grow dry and chapped. 

→ POSSIBLE SABOTAGE FROM ITALY? (NAME)’S TORN ACL CAUSES TROUBLE FOR HER TEAM

↳ numba1soccerfan10: (name) was totally robbed at the last play

↳ jurassic_lover: nah i think she got skill diff’d, she wasn’t all that good anyway

↳ gojoisthebest03857: are you crazy?? did we even watch the same game

→ TOP TEN WORST ATHLETE INJURIES OF ALL TIME

↳ furumuni: that’s so fucked up, (name) just got injured and there's already a youtube video about it. do you guys have any respect for the players on here?

↳ silent_ninja: all these clips are insane to watch

→ (NAME)’S RETIREMENT? WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO THE NEXT UPCOMING STRIKER?

↳ (name)fangirl101: she’ll bounce back, she has to

↳ [deleted]: this is some serious cope 

→ ANOTHER UNFORTUNATE CASE OF A TORN ACL: (NAME)’S CAREER HANGS ON A BALANCE, WILL SHE RECOVER?

↳ JBlue: if she can recover, it’ll be a miracle.

“just face it, you’re lukewarm.” 

before rin could make any other comment, a ball collides with his nose head-on, having been launched with enough force to make him fall to the ground in shock. eyes blown wide as he looks up to your heaving figure. your breaths were becoming sporadic and difficult to control. and while everything around you was contorting, from the black and blue uniforms to the redness in rin’s face, life itself was beginning to morph into a terrifying sludgepool. 

despite it all, the black and white color of the soccer ball was impossible to miss. 

so when you barreled that ball towards rin using your non-dominant foot, it wasn’t out of malice or hatred for the younger man. you didn’t hate him for what he was saying. nor could you fault him for saying the truth. 

what he missed however, was the fact that you still loved this sport. there was something that kept you going. a force that will keep pushing you towards this cutthroat world.

that kick was made from love. love for a sport that had flown too far out of your reach.

and now with ego’s permission and blessing, being at blue lock was your last chance at staying within this exclusive world, and out of everyone, you were most determined to stay and stake your claim.

“i’m the last person you should be calling lukewarm, rin,” grabbing him by the collar of his jersey, you raise him off the ground. 

→ (NAME)’S RETURN TO THE SCENE AS BLUE LOCK’S NEXT COACH

[riovidalupdates]

LAST GIRL STANDING - i.

part ii.

“I’m not asking you to stay. I’m asking if this was ever real?” - Wanda Maximoff

“The issue with time is that it’s endless, yet, there’s never enough. How does it fit with us?” - Rio Vidal

“You were never a priority, but you became one that I can’t lose now.” - Agatha Harkness

pairings: wanda maximoff x fem!reader, agatha harkness x fem!reader, and rio vidal x fem!reader

summary: you’ve come to learn that you can love more than one person—because you love them in different ways. the problem: they love you in one way. so, who are you in love with and who gets hurt?

warnings: cursing, angst, intimate moments but not sex, and other stuff that i'll add as time goes on.

notes: this one has been in my drafts for a long time. i did a little bit of revision and editing, but i am busy and i do want to get this story going. as it goes on I will be more efficient with the editing. it is also a college au so there is no witches or anything like that, but other works will be! enjoy! chapters will be longer and the writing will get better. It’s been awhile since I’ve actually written a story, but I’ve been working on so many other projects and I had this all planned out before I got my new job.

word count: 1.4k

・❥・

There was never a time where you ever thought you’d be losing your sanity. Months ago, you only ever known the beauty of peace, having full control over your thoughts and emotions with no consequences. Where does the chaos abruptly begin, how does it begin, and why does it begin?

Because fuck all that, why do you have to be involved in a mess that you didn’t ask for?

You stared out of your dorm window, tracing the movement of students below as they hurried between classes. The campus was alive with energy—laughter, chatter, and the constant shuffle of feet on the worn pathways—but it all felt distant to you, like watching life happen through a glass pane. From the outside, you seemed well-adjusted. A few close friends, decent grades, a knack for blending in at social events. But lately, you had begun to feel a quiet, persistent void growing inside, one that friendship, academic success, and even casual flings couldn’t quite fill.

It wasn't that you were lonely in the traditional sense. In fact, you had friends—great friends who provided the utmost support in all that you do. Natasha Romanoff from work, Kate Bishop from short-film club, Steve Rogers from gym (he was also Natasha’s boyfriend), Tony Stark who crashed into your car the first day of move-in (he paid for all damages after you punched him), and Wanda Maximoff, your best friend. Wanda had been by your side for years, a constant source of home. There was so much to your overall relationship with her that it couldn’t be replicated with the others or anyone. Even if you were to try.

But no matter how much you spent time with Wanda, she found her footing in rather quick. And while you don’t want to assume things are going well for her, you could at least tell she was happiest when she was in the arms of her obnoxious, academically skilled boyfriend, Vision. Vision who is ahead of the IT program, the captain of the golf team, and somehow Tony’s coworker at Stark’s Industries (who cares about some intellectual freak? Not you).

Anyway, it felt like there was something missing, some deeper connection you couldn’t quite grasp. Sometimes, you’d feel yourself pulling back in conversations, faking a smile here and there when noticing yourself drifting out of sync.

You sigh as you turned away from the window, grabbing your backpack, and slinging it over your shoulder. Another day of classes to get to, papers to turn in, and your typical routine to follow. It all felt so automatic, like living on autopilot.

Perhaps there was something you weren’t doing. Maybe you were actively doing something to avoid fulfilling that aspect of void?

Your phone buzzed on the desk—Wanda.

“Dinner tonight?” She asks once you pick up. “And I swear if you say no, I am going to drive to your class and drag you out myself.”

 You considered telling her no for a moment but it’s Wanda and because of that you say, “Sure. Just don’t barge in like last time. Felt like I got in trouble with my mother…”  Despite your growing sense of detachment, you couldn’t bring herself to decline. You’ve been avoiding her like the plague. She’s your best friend and has asked to hang out for the last month or so only for you to be nowhere. Questions were beginning to rise, and you weren’t ready to answer any of them.

Her laughter echoed through and you kind of forget that you were falling into a hole of emptiness. “Look, I gotta go,  I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah. See you, dekta.”

Dekta. It was always that.

As you made your way across campus, weaving through the throngs of students, you felt a heaviness settle in your chest. Classes, work, clubs, and repeat. How was it that you could be surrounded by people, involved in their lives, and still feel like an outsider looking in?

You loved your friends, or at least you thought you did, but lately, even that felt like a lie you told yourself. You enjoyed your courses. So what if you have to stay up until 2am for shoots and editing, you wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t enjoy it. Actually, you were late to register, and this was kind of a last minute decision.  And you were president for the short film club, but you kind of are guessing why you’re doing this all because you hate people.

The reality is, it’s to avoid facing the deeper truth: that connection, the real kind, the kind that made you feel alive and seen. Not just from relationships, courses, and social life.

Was this what your life was going to be? Always on the fringes, never fully connecting? You wanted more but didn’t know how to get it. Maybe you didn’t even know what “more” really was.

You were good at pretending everything was fine, good at putting on a show of contentment. But deep down, you knew you were waiting for something—or someone—to break through that glass pane that kept you at arm’s length from everyone around.

But until then, you’d keep going, navigating your college life as best as you could, feeling more like an observer than a participant.

・❥・

You sat across from Wanda at your usual spot in the campus dining hall, picking at her salad as Wanda animatedly recounted the latest drama involving her boyfriend, Vision. You nodded along, making the appropriate sounds of sympathy and surprise, but part of you couldn't help but tune out the problem.

“I swear, sometimes he just doesn’t listen,” Wanda continued, exasperation creeping into her voice. “Last night I..." She sighed, looking down at her food. "I told him I needed space and time to collect my thoughts about where this is going, but he kept calling and texting, so we could talk it out..."

You forced yourself back into the conversation. “Sounds like he’s not respecting your boundaries,” you offered, glancing up at Wanda. You couldn’t help the slight resentment that crept in whenever Vision came up. There was always an unspoken tension in your friendship, one that emerged whenever Wanda talked about her boyfriend.

You didn’t know exactly why you disliked him—maybe it was his arrogant demeanor, or the way he always seemed to treat Wanda as an accessory rather than an equal. She would often vent about the small ways in which he let her down, like forgetting their date plans or brushing off her opinions, but then she would always follow it up with some form of an excuse that he cares. You would just nod along, hiding the skepticism behind a supportive smile.

"Tell me about it,” Wanda huffed, shaking her head. “It's a flaw of his and when the time is right, we'll discuss it and how we can better ourselves. Enough about me though, how about you? Anything exciting that requires you to get out of that hermit crab shell of yours? Maybe with...that TA? Angus, right?"

You snickered but also couldn’t help but notice how Wanda seemed to skirt around anything serious about her relationship with Vision (what a prick). There was a glint of something—maybe uncertainty, maybe resignation—in her eyes when she spoke about him. You wondered if Wanda was just as skilled at pretending everything was fine as you were. It made you feel a little less alone, knowing you weren’t the only one hiding something.

Yet, despite your doubts about the boyfriend, you never voiced your concerns outright. The last thing you wanted was to come across as jealous or possessive. Deep down, you wondered if there was a part of you that simply didn’t want to share Wanda—a feeling you quickly buried before it could grow into something more troubling.

Your face flushed at the mention of Agatha, and you quickly took a sip of water to hide the embarrassment. “Her name is Agnes,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes for effect. So, maybe you kind of lied. Only because you didn't want Wanda to track and stalk the girl. "And she's just intriguing..."

"Intriguing, huh?” Wanda teased. “You should talk to her more. Or, you know, talk to her at all.”

“Very funny,” You shot back. “It’s not that simple.”

But maybe it was. Maybe if you could muster up the courage to actually talk to Agatha, you’d feel less like you were floating aimlessly and more like you were taking control of your own life. You could already hear Wanda’s voice in your head, encouraging you to just go for it, to not overthink it, to take a chance.

[orphicmeliora]

"Kidnap me," you say, as if it's the most natural thing to ask of someone. Anyone else would've given you the side eye and left the moment the words left your lips. "It'd give me the much needed rest I require."

But Sylus only raised an eyebrow, quite used to your straight-forwardness by now. Even though you sit with your back to him, you know because of the mirror placed strategically so that he would be visible but you would be obscured. He seated himself on the chair beside the windowsill through which he'd broken into your bedroom. You frowned, how exactly does he manage to unlatch every lock there, you'd never understand. "What's the occasion?"

You don't know what to tell him because there was no simple way to put it. The ache in your heart felt like it had turned into a virus, infecting every single cell in your body. It had made a home for itself in the marrow of your bones and nerves in your brain. A weight so heavy placed on your shoulders like a scale, it was only a matter of which one would tip first and send you careening into an abyss so dark, so steep and you'd fall and fall and fall until—until—

(—there was nothing but a void and silence around you, profound and loud, and then maybe there would be peace. Maybe the fall would split your spine and crack your skull and maybe then you could rest.)

But you couldn't tell anyone of what goes on in your head during the darkest hours of the night even if you tried.

So you tell him this instead:

"I let him die."

Sylus barely blinks. Maybe he already knows what happened, what with all the eyes he has watching you. How much does he already know?

"Do you understand what I'm saying, Sylus?" You finally turn to face him, tired of scrutinizing his expressions from the mirror. And Sylus looks at you, absorbing every detail of your features.

At first glance, nothing appeared out of the ordinary but there was something odd, something missing.

The light in your eyes had disappeared but you were smiling and not the pretty kind. Your smiles were always radiant and sweet, you never knew how to fake one, so you only smiled when you truly felt happy. Right now, it was neither radiant nor fake, where your lips would twitch every two seconds.

You stand up and inch closer toward him, another oddity. It was him who erased the distance between the two of you, you'd never dared. Sylus had always chalked it up to you being afraid—not of him—but yourself and the events that would follow.

It seems the fear has eluded you tonight.

You gripped the back of his chair with one hand and the armrest with the other. Then you bring your face close to his—in other circumstances, he'd be quite content with this development but not like this, not with that dead look in your red-rimmed eyes.

"I. Let. Him. Die." You repeat. "Don't think I wouldn't do the same to you."

Sylus fixed his intense gaze at you. This face that he'd dreamed of for so long even before he'd met you, had never looked more foreign. He hated that. The uncertainty. It made him anxious.

So he bared his teeth, unwilling to show even a moment of weakness. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

[prof-polaris]

Permission to vibe check??? Just say the word and in what way.

priv message:

absolutely vibe check!! ask what pokemon shes most scared of (tatsugiri)

or what piercing she cannot get (septum)

only viv (and i i guess) would know those things...

[celuere]

hiiiii

I AM SO ABSOLUTELY OBSESSED WITH YOUR WRITING OMG

First time requesting something on tumblr, but if its okay, could you maybe write about reader being insecure of their (more curvy/chubby?) body and arle reassuring reader?? Nsft? I thought of something in the direction of body worship ...idk its really up to you :D hope that's okay

Hi so before I get to writing, I just wanna say that I only have experience with body dysmorphia and insecurities when it comes to being underweight, so I really hope I still hit this one on the nail, I hope nothing I‘ll be writing is offensive, if so please tell me! <3 ALSO TYSM FOR UR KIND ANON ILY SOB

BUT UUHHHHWJSBEBSNENW YES the way she wouldn’t care about her partners weight gain or loss I just- I’m so gone for her.

pairing: Arlecchino x wife!reader

context: anon request!

cw: body dysmorphia, insecurity, mirror sex, fingering, body worship, arle being a goner

I‘m btw huge ass when it comes to explaining clothes I AM SORRY😭

NSFW utc, MDNI!

With a heavy heart you stepped off of the scale. Not daring to stare at your own reflection in the mirror to your right, it‘s worse enough that you were only standing in your underwear in the middle of your bedroom.

You gained some weight again since last week. Even with the strict diet you forced yourself into, nothing changed. You even stopped exposing yourself around your husband, let alone wear clothes that highlight your body. What would she possibly think about you? Would she be ashamed to let you stay by her side this evening?

There was an upcoming charity event tonight that you were supposed to get ready for. All Harbingers and high tiers of the Fatui alike will be present, along with representatives of Teyvat’s other six nations. Even the Tsaritsa herself.

Worries of all kinds were filling up your head, so many of them that you didn’t even notice your beloved entering the bedroom and just simply… being mesmerized by the sight.

„You look breathtaking.“

That caused you to lift your head up to look at her. The words leaving her mouth sounded fake to you. What in the world could she possibly find breathtaking when you couldn’t even stand the sight of your own reflection?

Your husband looked as beautiful to you as ever. She was wearing not one of her usual suits but her formal Harbinger attire like always. With the exception of a white tuxedo closing around her waist, a brooch with the coat of arms of the Fatui resting on her chest.

She looked beyond handsome to put it mild, a strong contradiction to how you were currently feeling.

And suddenly you felt so unbelievably uncomfortable in your skin. Her eyes prying up and down over your exposed body only adding to your unease. Not wanting her to stare any longer at her, you crossed your arms over your stomach.

„Very funny.“, the tears began to stung in your eyes. How could she say that when the truth was so obvious? You didn’t even know what to possibly wear tonight that looks halfway decent on you.

„Funny? Dearest, I didn’t intend it to come over as some sort of joke.“, Arlecchino now narrowed her eyes, obviously confused by your harsh tone. What were you talking about? Right now you were the most beautiful sight to her in all existence. A supernova amidst a dark void. A blooming flower field in the middle of a dry grassland. She had no idea why you would come up with such a… grotesque idea. You will never be a joke to her. Not when she wakes up next to you everyday only to study your facial features for a good 20 minutes before getting out of bed. Not when you‘re laying moaning underneath her with her strap-on buried inside of you.

„Please, Peruere- just…“, you sighed, the tears building up in the corner of your eyes now evident, „just how can you stand the sight of me? How can you look at this and still want me by your side?“, the soft sobs leaving your lips were more than enough for her to be by your side in an instant, taking your face into her cursed hands and making you look up to her as the tears rolled over her fingers.

„Sweetness, would you care to enlighten me?“, her tone was serious but not harsh. She genuinely cared about whatever was running through your mind. Her hands gently uncovered your tummy that was hiding behind your arms.

You couldn’t help but feel a blush form on your cheeks at her simple gesture, your body growing overly hot, „I just don’t feel pretty enough… especially not for you… just…“, you breathed out a heavy sigh, „Just look at me…“.

Silence filled the room for a few moments, the wheels in your husband’s head turning and turning as she processed your answer.

Did you think you were unattractive?

And suddenly you were turned around to face the mirror next to you without another word. Your husband‘s hands caressing your shoulders as she held the contact with your eyes through the reflection. And she didn’t look very pleased.

„I am looking at you. In fact, I’ve been looking at you almost every day for the past five years and I can’t even fathom what you could possibly be talking about.“, you could feel her hot breath against you ear as her hand slowly ran down your arms, the wedding ring on her right hand cold against your skin despite all odds.

„This sight has grazed my mind and very soul for ages now and you dare question that? If I one day happen to even show the slightest bit of distaste towards your very beautiful, very mesmerizing body, you might as well kill me with your own two hands, my love.“, and she was not joking. Not even the slightest hint of amusement in her voice. She was dead serious with you.

„Arle… I genuinely don’t see it…“, quickly wiping your tears away before you attempted to cover up the sight of your stomach once again. This time your arms were caught by two strong hands.

„Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare hide yourself away from me or ever feel like you have to be ashamed in front of me.“, her hands got a hold of your belly, thumbs stroking gently circles over your skin, „I didn’t marry you out of convenience or any other ill motive. I married you because I love you from the deepest depths of my heart. And that doesn’t only include your lovely personality.“, and now she gave your tummy a gentle squeeze, peppering a soft kiss behind your ear as she did so.

„You could gain weight, loose weight or even a body part and I would still pluck the stars out of the sky and arrange them in a bouquet if you asked me to. And besides…“, a sharp gasp left your lips as one hand slipped into your panties as the other one grazed your chubby body frame, „more on you means for me touch… kiss…“, a pair of hot lips pressed themself against your neck, „love… mark… All I can see are benefits to me…“.

Biting your lower lip as you felt her fingers ghosting over your aching clit, you looked down to where her hand disappeared in your underwear, „That is… nice to hear… but I still don’t feel like it…“, with that sentence you also now looked completely away from your reflection.

A mistake you realized too late as the feeling of your husband‘s hand disappeared on your stomach only to feel her hand grabbing onto your chin and move it back to look straight ahead.

„If you could only see yourself through my eyes…“, she now rested her chin on your shoulder, the pain in her voice cutting into your heart like a knife. It pained her to see her wife in such a state. Thinking she is undeserving of love and affection when it’s all she ever wants to give you until the end of time and beyond.

„You are beautiful, ma Cherie. So beautiful it makes my heart ache whenever I take a look at you, no matter what you are wearing in this moment. Be it naked, in underwear or fully clothed. No sight to me is more precious than the one of my wife.“, she didn’t hesitate before gently pushing two clipped digits inside your already leaking pussy.

„And I‘m going to stand here with you all night if that’s what takes for you to finally see that.“, Arlecchino shoved her fingers deeper and deeper until she was knuckles deep buried inside you, her hand long having left your face to wrap her arms around you for steadiness.

„Ah… But we‘re going to be late for the chari-”

„To hell with such insignificant things.“, the curl of her fingers was enough to shut you up, „you will always be my first priority. No matter the occasion. The world could go up in flames right now and all I would possibly think about is you.“.

As her fingertips found that gummy spot inside of you, your legs were quickly reduced to nothing but jelly, the mere strength of your husband was all that kept your upright, „You are such a pretty girl, darling. Look at how well you are taking my fingers. How beautiful you look when being pleasured.“.

You could only answer her with such a sweet moan that could melt the whole of Snezhnaya‘s icebergs, your pretty eyes not daring to leave the mirror incase she decides to stop her pleasuring movements as punishment.

„Just like that, my pretty bird. Goodness me, you sing so beautiful with my fingers stuffing your pretty pussy, don’t you agree…?“, thrusting her fingers now at a delicate pace in and out of you, you nodded your head to her question and you meant it. You did think about how great you looked right now with your husband taking care of you in front of a mirror, the event already long forgotten.

„Doll… I want to hear you say it.“, another harsh curl of her fingers had your saliva run down the corner of your lips.

„S-Say what…?“, the words coming at as nothing but a breathy whisper, your mind being too occupied with how well her fingers massaged your insides. Goodness, she way way too good at this.

„Tell yourself how beautiful you are. I want to hear you say it, even if it takes us all night.“, her tone left exactly 0 room for negotiations. My, my she really means it, does she?

You hesitated for a short moment before the words started falling from your mouth with ease, „I-I‘m beautiful… hah…. I‘m so beautiful…“, earning yourself a few kisses against your cheek, Arlecchino spared no efforts in rewarding you greatly as she spread her fingers inside of you.

„That‘s my woman. Was that so hard now? It seemed rather easy for you, if I am allowed to say.“, and when you felt a rush of adrenaline through your spine as you broke apart over her fingers with an agonizing moan, you might as well entered the gates of Heaven.

„There, there. That looked like it felt good.“, your husband cooed right into your ear as her movements slowly came to a halt and she now completely retreated her hand from your slip, „Are you feeling better now, my dear?“.

„Mhm… a lot better… Thanks to you, love…“, you allowed her to sit you down on the edge of the bad, her lips pressing a soft kiss on top of your head. Celestia, you were so precious to her. Lord and behold if something ever happened to you. Teyvat would not see the end of it.

„That fills me with joy, my love. I‘m glad I could be of help…“, another kisses was pressed against your forehead, then nose until her lips finally met yours. Soft hands cupping your face and rubbing her thumbs over your soft cheeks.

„Now… let me choose a fitting attire for the evening, alright?“, when her back turned to you after giving you one last soft kiss, you asked yourself one question as you watched her look through your various dresses.

Is Celestia really such a cruel individual if she threw you into your husband‘s arms?

cat + hatsune miku sweater. That’s it. That’s todays quote.

[eamour]

✿ ⋮ essentials

these are important to keep in mind.

⋮ 1 ⋮ the law of assumption

⋮ 2 ⋮ your affirmations don't manifest

⋮ 3 ⋮ you don't have to feel

⋮ 4 ⋮ you don’t change reality

⋮ 5 ⋮ you aren’t "faking it till you make it"

⋮ 6 ⋮ why we aren't always in the void state

⋮ 7 ⋮ feeling uncertain and being indecisive

⋮ 8 ⋮ things don’t just "happen" in your 3D

⋮ 9 ⋮ non-dualism and manifestation

⋮ 10 ⋮ buying the pearl

⋮ 11 ⋮ movement doesn‘t exist

⋮ 12 ⋮ your subconscious mind isn't your friend …

⋮ 13 ⋮ the more you want it …

⋮ 14 ⋮ a state is your garment

⋮ 15 ⋮ "thoughts don't manifest, states do"

⋮ 16 ⋮ past, present and future

⋮ 17 ⋮ 3D and 4D are the same

⋮ 18 ⋮ daydreaming and imagining

⋮ 19 ⋮ the void craze

⋮ 20 ⋮ creation is finished · infinite realities exist

⋮ 21 ⋮ there are no big manifestations

⋮ 22 ⋮ the outer world cannot be altered

⋮ 23 ⋮ feeling over desire

⋮ 24 ⋮ the law of consciousness

⋮ 25 ⋮ outer world analogies

⋮ 26 ⋮ feeling is the secret

⋮ 27 ⋮ thought · state analogy

⋮ 28 ⋮ the law cannot fail you

⋮ 29 ⋮ you are within yourself

⋮ 30 ⋮ the law of being

⋮ 31 ⋮ nothing exists outside of you

⋮ 32 ⋮ feeling the wish fulfilled

⋮ 33 ⋮ emotions do not matter

⋮ 34 ⋮ mental over physical

⋮ 35 ⋮ thoughts come from feeling

⋮ 36 ⋮ visualisation and imagination

⋮ 37 ⋮ time delays are inexistent

⋮ 38 ⋮ a change in self

⋮ 39 ⋮ all about techniques

⋮ 40 ⋮ inner self and outer self

⋮ 41 ⋮ multiple manifestations

⋮ 42 ⋮ the duality of self

⋮ 43 ⋮ faith in the unseen

⋮ 44 ⋮ persistence, repetition and more

⋮ 45 ⋮ everything is self

⋮ 46 ⋮ an attitude of receptivity

⋮ 47 ⋮ the bridge of events

⋮ 48 ⋮ dominant thoughts and dwelling states

⋮ 49 ⋮ about negative thoughts

⋮ 50 ⋮ repetition creates belief

⋮ 51 ⋮ the way you manifest

⋮ 52 ⋮ states

⋮ 53 ⋮ physical and mental reality

⋮ 54 ⋮ manifestation rules

⋮ 55 ⋮ mental diets · mental diet game

⋮ 56 ⋮ manifesting isn't just affirming

⋮ 57 ⋮ everyone is you pushed out

⋮ 58 ⋮ self and its desires

with love, ella.

[elixrr]

part 1 here

It's heartbreaking, being a fictional character in a fictional world. But what makes it worse it that his player; his love—his God, grew bored of him and discarded him.

What was he to you? Did you even feel affection for him? He loved you. He truly loved you because he had nothing but you. He's constantly locked in the same fake, digital room, even when you think he's out living his supposed stable life that some temporary code convinces you he's living. He'd do anything to please you, to keep you with him, because ultimately, you were his savior. You were everyone's savior.

And yet, you threw them all away.

Answer him.

What was he to you?

What were they to you? Were they toys to you? Dolls?

He feels betrayed. Rather, he felt betrayed. He can't feel a single thing now. Floating in the void of a digital trash bin stole all his feelings. It stole his supposed friends; it stole his supposed city; it stole his supposed life. His lifeless soul couldn't feel how much time had passed since the day you deleted the game, not that he would want to, even if he could be conscious again. It's dull in a dark void, and everything about him is already on the line. If he were conscious, not only would he have to openly sulk about how worthless he became in your eyes, but he would also have no future to look to. There wouldn't be any point to existing, let alone wanting to exist. If you ever re-downloaded the game, you would probably continue benching him, and that would be an extra sign that you'll never care about him again; that you came on for anyone else but him.

The only thing he'd wish for,

would be complete deletion.

Deletion of the email linked to your game account would result in the deletion of every single file of him and you. Every single fracture of evidence that you cared would disappear.

And, what he'd really want would be his whole self being erased.

In this life of his, he'd have no point. You left him, and probably completely. It doesn't matter what you do. Whether you never play the game again or even start it up again, none of that would matter because he wouldn't have a use in your life. If he doesn't matter in your life, then he wouldn't matter ever until he's possibly featured in an Archon quest or in some event. Even so, you might never use him ever again.

A single tear forms in his eyes. There's no point in existing.

Another tear falls. You never loved him, did you?

His eyes flutter open, and he's back in the team lineup screen. You're there. The supports are there, but he can't bring himself to pose. He can't bring himself to lighten up.

What are you going to do now? Repeat history, strip him of his artifacts, his weapon, and trash him? Slam him down into a pit of despair? A loveless void made for the hopeless and hurt, all of which once loved you and felt you loved them, now suddenly were torn and tossed like old, ragged dolls.

Through his broken heart and blurry eyes, he could see your face. You were about to enter his character detail screen, but you paused. You were looking at him like you were worried, and genuinely so. And, like an angel, you whispered his name with delicate, careful concern.

“What happened to you?”

You abandoned him. That's what happened, and he bets you never knew.

“Leave me alone,” he nearly sobs, “I know you don't want to use me anymore. Rip me apart for all I care—it won't matter when I'm back in that void again.”

“A void..? Wait, never mind that, I do care. What— really, what happened? Wait, you can hear me?”

He wipes his tears away and stands to face you fully. All the supports watch his bravery against the code.

“I could always see you; everyone on the field could. We can hear you.” He takes a moment to breathe it all in. Maybe... Maybe he can get you to listen. Maybe he can help you hear him out.

Maybe he could help you love him again?

“Anyways, the void is where every unused person goes. Once... Once we leave the screen, we just sit here until you use us. And if you remove us from all teams, we're sent— we're plummeted into said void.”

“Oh my God,” you whisper, leaning back, “I need to revisit everyone I...”

“Please, wait, I—” I want to be used. I want to be the one you revisit. I want to be the one you miss.

“Player, creator, whoever you are, just please,” he watches as you scroll through the team lineup options, “please don't leave—”

And you enter another lineup.

And everyone else is gone, too.

“Please. Don't leave me again.”

He falls over, not caring how much it hurts. Nothing works. Nothing will work. It's hopeless.

He'll be stuck here, waiting, waiting, and waiting. Not for you—there's no point in that anyway, but for your second deletion.

He'll be waiting for the game's deletion.

For his final deletion.

You left him, and he's clearly not important to you. As heartbreaking as it is, he accepts it. Even with this dimensional intersection, he can't convince you.

As heartbreaking as it is, he's just a fictional character to you in this fictional world. He loved you, and he thought you did too, but clearly, you don't. Because he is just an abandoned, rotting toy, and you are the player who abandoned him.

And, he thinks, if you want him to rot, then so be it,

Let him rot.

@iridescentrays @inlovewithlondonn @falconclaw244 @shiningpaint-marbleheart @jeremyth @hikaru-sama @ayatoq @krrkt @yureismellslikefanfic @samhelleborewrites @bi-panicatthedisco @hannya-writes @thomaliciouss @notisekais @lovelykrystal @raeharmonia @ayra2452008 @chikai-k @dreamsofmoney @shutingstar

To everyone who wanted part 2 :))

[pars-ley]

I...do? (part one)

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x f. reader (ft Jung Hoseok briefly) Summary: Based on the film ‘the proposal’ - You hate your boss. He's rude, arrogant and conceited, not to mention works you to the bone, day and night. So walking into one of his meetings, where he announces your upcoming wedding, you being shocked is the least of it. But when he threatens the career you've worked so hard for, can you still say no to his proposal? Genre: Enemies to lovers au / CEO au / fake dating au / colleagues to lovers au / co-workers to lovers / series / angst / fluff / smut Rating: 18+ (future chapters will be nfsw) Warnings (per chapter): blackmail / manipulation / rudeness / angst W/C: 2.9k Banner: @shadowkoo you are amazing Beta: @beomcoups and @cherrysoulth thank you so much!  Notes: So this has been in the works for about four fucking years now and I’ve decided to do this as a series and i’m finally ready to start posting! Sorry to anyone who has been waiting. This was originally for the 'spring will come again' event with @bangtanarmynet Please, share and comment, it will really help with motivation for writing, which I have been lacking for a while. Thank you so much for reading! Taglist: @ladyartemesia @taestannie @somewhereofftheglobe @moonchild1 @taebangtanbabe @leedoesntknaur @siadreams @m-1234

It’s a lovely spring morning; the trees are green, and the flowers are beginning to bloom. The sun is out and the air is fresh. You have one of the most beautiful views in the city outside your office, floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the new growth and warm weather. You’re relaxing into your seat, basking in it…that is, until the elevator down the hall stops on your floor, and you know exactly who's about to step off. You type out your usual frantic message to everyone in their office cubicles in the expanse between the elevators and his office, which you sit directly outside of, and hit send.

Y/n: Satan is entering the gates of hell

Everyone rushes frantically back to their desks. Hushed whispers sound across the void, filling the atmosphere with nervous energy. The elevator dings and silence is instant. You watch as your boss struts along, ignoring everyone else’s presence entirely. 

“Good morning, sir,” you remark with a polite smile as soon as he reaches your desk, to which he strides past you, straight into his office. Resisting the urge to make a sarcastic remark, you focus back on your work, but your irritation grows towards him. Your patience is already thin this morning.

Discreetly, you glance in his direction, noting the way he sits behind his desk, leaning back in his chair, leg crossed casually over the other, and flipping through document pages with an arrogance you can see, even from here. You absolutely hate how good-looking he is. Why does someone so infuriating get to look like that? It somehow makes his whole attitude even worse.

His low voice calling your name snaps your attention. "Get in here."

Sliding your chair out from under your desk, you follow orders.

“Yes, Mr Kim, ” you respond, standing with hands clasped in front of you. Your posture and all-black attire, particularly the skirt, were requested by him.

“Where was my usual tea this morning?” he asks, eyes unwavering from the pages he's absorbed in. 

“The shop was closed this morning, sir, and I thought it best not to go to the other one, as you told me their tea 'looks and tastes like noodle soup.'” Your heart races with annoyance, as you chew the inside of your lip, attempting to hold back any smart-arse remarks.

I’ll tell you where I’d like to put your tea, sir, I’d shove it right up your-

“Then, what is this?” He points to the mug you left on his desk in replacement, a look of disdain twisting his face.

“That’s the tea I made for you, Sir.”

His eyes meet yours for a second with a hard stare. “Right, well next time, how about...don’t.” 

Your teeth clamp together, jaw tensing as you struggle to bite back your retort, instead opting to take the tea and down it right in front of him. The hot liquid burns your throat as it slides down uncomfortably, and you carefully place the mug back on his desk, wiping the corners of your mouth with your fingertips.

"Is that better, sir?" You smile sweetly, but it’s written all over his face that he knows it’s not genuine judging by the glare he throws your way.

Your stomach somersaults nervously, worrying you've gone too far before his eyes fall back down to his paper.

“I have an unscheduled meeting in twenty minutes, it’s important, so make sure I am not disturbed by anyone. Are we clear?” He meets your eyes again, the intimidating aura he radiates hitting you fiercely.

“Y-yes, Mr Kim. Should I delay the ten o’clock meeting then?”

“You’re a smart girl; figure it out.” 

He looks back down at his work, seeming bored of your presence, but you stand there aghast as to what you can reply to that without getting fired.

“Get out.” He waves a hand, dismissing you.

"Right away, sir." You bow dramatically before leaving and closing the door, forcing yourself not to slam it and wishing you could go and scream into a pillow. 

Mr Kim Taehyung can kiss your arse.

Sitting back down at your desk, searching for anything to get your mind off the frustratingly rude man, when your mobile phone rings, surprising you. Even more so when you see it's your mum.

"Yes, mama, I'll be down this weekend," you say quietly into your phone once you're finally able to get a word in. Keeping your voice low to avoid your slave driver of a boss hearing your personal call.

Your mother’s squeal makes you giggle. "Like I'd miss my parents’ thirtieth wedding anniversary celebration."

"How long are you staying for this time? It's been too long since I've seen my baby!" she stresses.

You can't help the smile that tugs at your mouth. "I know, mama, I'm still working on that."

"You need to tell that boss of yours that enough is enough before he ends up working you to the bone!" Her disapproving tone makes you feel at home.

You see Mr Kim heading your way, "Hmm-mmm, listen, ma, I've got to go; I'll see you this weekend. Love you." You hang up abruptly and get straight back to typing.

"Personal calls should be taken at personal times," he says firmly, heading off down the hall.

Heat flashes up your chest, and your attempt to bite down a retort wavers, "That would mean me being allowed a personal life, sir, " you call after him.

His steps falter for a brief moment before continuing on with not another word or so much as a glance in your direction. 

You swallow and let out the breath you didn't realise you'd been holding, envisioning hurling your phone at the back of his head. I wonder how hard I'd have to throw it to knock him unconscious or to at least give him a concussion.

Taking a long breath and trying not to grind your teeth, something that has become a habit lately and focusing back on your workload.

A short while later, Mr Kim is sitting in his unscheduled “important” meeting, meaning you could blissfully get on with paperwork without interruption. However, glancing up from your computer, you notice how tense and somewhat uncomfortable Mr Kim looks, something most uncharacteristic of him. So it does not surprise you when your work phone vibrates loudly at your desk. Looking down, you see the message "Save me," sent from him, your usual code system to get him out of something he really doesn't want to be part of anymore.

Getting up from your desk and striding across the space, you knock quietly on the door before entering.

"Sir, you have an urgent call on--"

"Ah, here she is," Mr Kim beams at you, a sight that is not only shocking because of how rare it is but also how breathtakingly gorgeous his smile is. You stand there frozen in your spot, unsure what has caused this sudden change in his mood. "No need to stand on ceremony, sweetheart; Mr. Jung is well aware of our upcoming nuptials." 

You stare at him blankly, wondering if he's perhaps having some kind of stroke and considering whether or not you should call an ambulance. He comes over to your rooted feet by the door, and before you can say anything, his arm winds around your waist and guides you over to his desk. You're hyper-aware of his hand on you in such an intimate manner and it infuriates you, boiling your blood liquid hot in your veins. It feels like everything's moving in slow motion while you attempt to piece together all the chaotic thoughts happening in your mind, but nothing makes any sense. 

Upcoming nuptials? Hell would have to freeze over more than once for you to be hitched to a man as rage-inducing as him. In fact, you'd rather be a miserable, shrivelled-up spinster living with a household full of cats than walk down an aisle where he's waiting for you.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, and please, call me Hoseok." Mr Jung stands up and shakes your hand, offering you a dazzling grin. You don't fail to notice his suspicious gaze raking over you and your boss. "So, a wedding, that sure is exciting, huh?" he asks you, raising an eyebrow as he waits for your response.

You feel Mr Kim's hand dig into your waist, sparking you to say, "Yes, very. Who doesn't love a wedding?"

Hoseok laughs. "It's true, they are such joyous occasions. Are you prepared? Is everything set, I mean?"

Before you can say anything, you hear your boss's baritone voice beside you, sending vibrations through your body and muddling your mind even more. "There are still a few things here and there to take care of, but I have faith it will all be done in time."

"Perfect." The man smiles at you. "So your families know about this wedding?" 

Hell, I didn't even know about it, so they definitely don't.

"I don't have any family; both my parents died years ago, no siblings or grandparents alive," Mr Kim admits, voice impassive. You can't help but be surprised by this new piece of information. You’re unsure if that was true or part of his weird ruse, but your heart tugs a little at imagining someone not having anyone, even someone as vile as him.

"Oh, I am sorry," Hoseok offers, "and what about your family?" He aims at you.

"We were planning on telling her family this weekend," Mr Kim interjects. “It's her parents' wedding anniversary, so we thought we'd go up there for the bank holiday and surprise them, didn't we, sweetheart?" 

You clench your teeth together to stop your mouth from popping open in shock. He squeezes you closer to his side, a movement that has you tensing your jaw in an attempt to keep the searing in your veins down to a minimum. 

"Yes, yes, we are," you add, forcing a smile.

"So what happens now?" Mr Kim asks.

You glance up at him, then at Hoseok, who seems to be scrutinising your every move. You resist the urge to squirm uncomfortably in Mr Kim's grasp.

"Well, you'll both have to come in for an interview at some point. Provided you both pass this stage and I deem this marriage legitimate then, we'll fill in the necessary paperwork, you'll no longer be deported and your new visa will be valid."

You no longer hear the words being said, everything becoming muffled and moving in slow motion. Deportation!? Legitimate marriage!? That's why he's made this up, so he can stay in the country. 

You feel your stomach drop to your feet, heavy, yet threatening to shoot up and out of your mouth, decorating his office carpet.

"Great. Is there anything else you need from us, Mr Jung?"

He taps his chin and stares at you quizzically. "Just make sure neither of you are lying, then we'll have no problems. A fine and prison time is not to be looked at lightly."

What!? You laugh nervously. "People actually get sent to prison for that?"

He nods. "Sure, it happens all the time. You could face up to five years in prison and a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar fine, and yet people still think that they can trick us." He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "Anyway, I'll be sending you both a letter about when and where your interview will occur, most likely in a few weeks, I look forward to seeing you both then." 

You shake hands before he's gone and both of you are rooted to the spot, staring after him. 

Soon enough, Mr Kim moves back around to his desk, flicking through his papers, his eyes focused as if nothing out of the ordinary has just happened.

You stand there frozen, waiting for some kind of explanation, and when nothing comes, you speak up, "Excuse me, sir, but what was that?"

He sighs as if bored by your presence and continues to focus on the files in front of him. "They were going to fire me once I got deported and give Mr Park my job."

You stare at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. 

"Don't worry, we'll get married and get a quickie divorce. It will be over in no time."

You feel like your feet will surely collapse from the weight of this burden that has suddenly become yours. Without asking or consenting, you've ended up in a situation you're unsure how to deal with or get out of.

"Sir," you finally speak, breaking through your stunned silence and swallowing the burning you feel rising into your throat. "I cannot marry you."

Finally, he drops his papers and meets your panicked eyes. "Listen, you don't really have a choice; if you don't, I'll fire you and ensure that any new job you apply for will have zero interest in hiring you. I'll make something up so terrible you'll be blacklisted, and where will that leave you, after all the hard work you've put in during the last three years? Hmm?"

You stare into his cold, dark eyes and know there's no hint of a lie or an exaggeration in his words. 

“All of those late nights runs to the grocery store for me, all the weekend calls and late night working will have been for nothing.”

You struggle to find the words, feeling your world crashing in on you and smothering you beyond belief. Feeling yourself being pushed against a rock and a mountain with nowhere to escape, when all your legs want to do is run.

You suck deep breaths into your lungs. 

He would ruin your career and everything you've worked so hard for. In one fell swoop, your life would be over. For the last three years your job has been everything, not allowing an ounce of a social life; no holidays and no relationships, nothing has existed outside of your job.

Not to mention, how could you afford your apartment if you had no job? You'd have to move back home with your parents to small-town life...the thought made your stomach churn, that was more frightening than anything. 

"If I do this, I'm taking a big risk here, so I'm going to need some assurances."

He smirks, sinking back into his chair and folding his arms across his chest. The material of his blazer stretched across his bicep muscles, giving him an even more intimidating edge.

"I wasn't aware you were in a position to make demands."

Your hands clench into fists at your sides, longing to make a connection to his perfectly chiselled jaw, as anger bubbles inside the deepest pit of hatred you have for this man.

"I could go to prison! You're not asking me to go on a business trip; you're asking me to marry you so you can stay in the country! So, you either give me what I want, or I quit here and now, and bye-bye, Mr Kim, hello, Mr Park." turning towards his office door, your face flushes with angry heat. Feeling brazen and reckless, two can play at this game and if you are going to do this, you are damn sure you're going to make it worth your while.

"Wait," he says quickly.

Glancing back, you watch the smugness on his features slowly die as he realises how serious you are. "What is it you want?"

"A promotion. Not a bullshit one you make up so I can continue assisting you either."

He sighs and massages his temples. "Ok, ok, fine. How about the head of a department?"

You've wanted that since you started at this company; ever since you were hired, that has been your focus and the only thing getting you through this role.

"Hm, which department?" You act coy, knowing there's only one answer you want to hear.

He rubs his face and groans, his cool, calm exterior well and truly forgotten. "Design. That's what you want, isn't it?"

Taken aback by how he could have known that you pause for a moment before composing yourself once again. "Yes. I want it in writing and signed by you." 

"Fine."

You nod, feeling a triumphant bloom expand in your chest.

"Are we done here?" He asks.

"Ask me nicely." 

His hands come down hard on the desk; an exasperated look withers his face. "What?"

"Ask me nicely to marry you."

His mouth pops open, closes, and opens again. His cheeks flush, and the sight makes you smile. Who would have thought something so simple would make him blush?

"That's ridiculous."

"Ok, goodbye, Mr Kim; I wish I could say nice knowing you." You turn and push his office door open.

"Alright," he calls. "Just….shut the door."

You can hear the pleading in his voice, knowing how desperate he is and wondering how much you should take advantage of that. You do as he says, step back into the room, and watch with unashamed amusement as he stands up and rounds his desk, closing the gap between you rather sheepishly.

He takes a deep breath as his eyes stay fixed on your blazer's lapels. "Will-"

"On one knee, please." You interrupt.

His cheeks darken as he prepares to argue, but he second-thinks as his eyes flit desperately between yours. He slowly sinks down onto the ground at your feet and plasters on a fake and yet still dazzling smile, "Will you, please, marry me?" he finally says, sarcasm dripping off of every word.

For a moment, you enjoy the sight of him on his knees in front of you, looking up through thick eyelashes, but your abhorrence of him stops your mind from going any further.

"Fine," you reply with a smirk as you walk out, leaving him staring at your back. If you are doing this for him, you sure as hell are going to make him pay for it.

[howiehans]

@pscentral event 23: arcs ↳ incoming chimney breakdown arc

don't let those demons in again. i fill the void up with polished doubt, fake sentiment. surrender yourself. — false confidence (noah kahan)

[a-land-lacking-sleep]

A brief thought on the parallels of the Subway Bosses, The Tao Trio, and Warden Ingo's place

@waywardstation just made an amazing post on her thoughts of Warden Ingo's parallels to Kyurem. Nothing in the game directly connects the two, just like nothing in the game connects the Subway Bosses to the Dragons in Generation V. But the connections are still there regardless, because Game Freak made sure to fill Unova with so much symbolism.

These are the basic thoughts that connect each Man to their Dragon.

Subway Boss Ingo - Ideals; Aspire to greatness, never give up in your journey

Subway Boss Emmet - Truth; You are who you are, there is no need for a mask

Warden Ingo - Void; What is there when you lose who you are? No drive for greatness, nothing to mask. Ideals, Truths, nothing matters except the ground beneath your feet.

In each game that they appear, Ingo and Emmet are relatively flat characters. In Gen 5, they have enough personality to stick in your mind, and nothing past. And in PLA, Ingo's whole personality is "I lost my memory and am depressed, but have hope". Instead, we end up looking at word choice, and in the Subway Bosses cases, other media.

Subway Boss Ingo, across most media, embodies Ideals. He has his eyes to the future, always pushing himself and others to continue onwards. He frames battling and training as a journey ("What can I see after winning, winning, and winning? Where is my destination?"; "Your talent has brought you to the destination called Victory!"; "There is no terminal called End in your life!"), most often when he is victorious. He seeks to create his Ideal self, and wants to push others to do the same.

This comes up in Pokemon Masters EX as well, where the "no terminal" line returns (in an appropriately spooky tone), he also spends time in the Day With Ingo story event talking about how he seeks to better himself and "break through the mold of [his] past self". This event is also the first time he mentions the phrase "greater heights", which appears another 6 times in various snippets in Masters. And finally, we have a triple whammy of travel metaphors for growth in his level up lines.

For Subway Boss Emmet, his connection to Truth is admittedly a bit more tenuous. He doesn't have any tendency for truth-seeking or investigations (outside of the famous behavior in the manga where he likes to eavesdrop on drama, which gossip isn't exactly truthful), but what he has is a strong showing of being truthful, even if he ends up being blunt or disrespectful.

As a consequence of his writing in Japanese giving him a very casual way of speaking, the English translation has him speak in shorter clips, just the bare essentials. The naked truths of his thoughts. He doesn't seek the Truth, or give a Universal Truth; Emmet is True to himself and to those around him. (As a side note, I love when people give power to other usages of the word True through Reshiram. I did it in my fic with a turn of phrase, but I've seen it done beautifully in other works too).

In Pokemon Special, Emmet doesn't hide the truth of why they asked White to train on the Battle Subway ("We're studying you as an example of a Trainer who gets overwhelmed and loses every battle!" "That's not nice, Emmet."), not because he is intending to be rude (Ok, a little bit), but because that *is* what they are using her for. In the games, he speaks of how Pokemon battles can be decided on luck ("I won against you. But I think I just got lucky."), because the Truth of the matter is, you can be highly trained and just have a bad day or get hit by a critical hit. But, most importantly, he believes that battles must be serious for them to be fun. Because what fun is there in putting up a fake fight, when you could just be True to yourself?

Now, to speak on the connection of Warden Ingo to Kyurem, we must first understand what Kyurem is to Zekrom and Reshiram. On a surface level, it is a Husk, a leftover revenant that can be reassembled into a simulacrum of the Original being. But looking into the actual symbolism of them all is where you find threads of connection to the Warden.

Reshiram, the Dragon of Yin, is representative of a more static element, receptive of change but passive in how it does so. It is a recursive existence that reaches out and pulls back towards itself - Everyone has an individual Truth, but that is still able to be changed by The Truth. However, one does not go out and change The Truth, only altering the perception of it while it passively exists. You cannot change what is already there, only create something new. In comparison, Emmet is never really shown to focus on the future, but rather on the present. He knows of the Truth in his life, and while it can be changed by present actions, he knows that he cannot go back to change it, so there is no need to try, or to hide it.

Zekrom, the Dragon of Yang, is active, ever expanding, and pushes up against those around it in it's search for Ideals. Ideals cause you to seek out a goal, to leave your home, your comfort zone, and push away from the past. To represent Ideals is to be in constant flux; Settling into a form makes you into a Truth, as an Ideal is a goal, something attainable, yet unreachable. We've gone over Ingo's future-forward gaze, constantly thinking about what is to come. Life is a journey, and every step you take in life is a step to self-improvement.

Kyurem is a Husk, a Shell. According to Bulbapedia, it is representative of Wuji ("Without a roof"), the absense of Yin and Yang, or "The Ultimate Nothingness". For this reason, I personally also attribute to it Mu, a concept of non-existence and negative space, specifically the lack of something normally there (modern Japanese actually uses "mu-" as a prefix the same way English has the suffix "-less"). Interestingly, the Japanese transliteration of Wuji is "Mukyoku" (lit. Non-polar, another translation of Wuji), connecting the two concepts neatly. In short, Kyurem represents Nothing and Everything.

Kyurem was supposedly the Original Dragon, the deity of Unova that represented Truths and Ideals in unison, a embodiment of Yin and Yang's harmony. In a sense, the Original Dragon was an embodiment of Everything, Unova's spirit of unity. Then, with the war between the Twin Princes (another pair also frequently compared to Ingo and Emmet, in case you think I forgot my boys), it was split into 2, but secretly 3, parts. This third secret part became Kyurem, a being lacking in its original qualities, leaving Nothing but the Husk.

Now, finally, we can get to everyone's favorite uncle, Warden Ingo. His connection to Kyurem is probably the least intentional of them all (which is saying something, because I'm honestly convinced that the Subway Bosses' own connections aren't intentional, but rather just a result of how Unova games were written with Truth vs. Ideal being ingrained heavily), but there still is one. As Wayward says in her fateful post, "Warden Ingo is an empty husk of who he once was ever since he was separated from his life, and from Emmet." Ingo as the Subway Boss may not have embodies the Everything that the Original Dragon has, but pairing with Emmet so closely still meant that Truth and Ideals mixed so cleanly that it might as well have been Everything.

However, the most important connection for Warden Ingo are the concepts of Wuji and Mu. To be "the Ultimate Nothingness" or "Non-Polar" means to be devoid of Everything, yet still have the capability to be far more than Nothing. The singular concept of Mu may mean that Warden Ingo is missing who he is and was, but that is not who we grow know in the game; We connect with a man who is slowly piecing together his sense of self, remembering facets of his past and growing happier with who he can be. Thus, the Mu transitions into Wuji, a void that isn't Empty so much as lacking.

The importance of distinction is that Mu is by nature Empty, while Wuji is Empty and Everything, limitless and confined. Similarly, Ingo is devoid of what made him him (His drive for self-improvement is impaired, even while he pushes the player to climb to greater heights), but becomes something new in the meta-narrative of the story. His actual, plot-related story ends when you quell Electrode and he becomes a challengeable NPC at the Training Grounds, but he becomes something of a kindred spirit in the greater plot of the game. He's like you, a Faller who has lost themselves, and also like you, an avid battler who pushes the system to it's limits (especially in the Path of Solitude).

In short, the connection between Kyurem and Warden Ingo isn't anything in the text, as Kyurem has no explicit in-game theming attached to it like Zekrom and Reshiram, and Warden Ingo doesn't have strong philosophical points that seeps out of the words he says to you. But when you look at the meta-theming for Kyurem, and subsequently Warden Ingo's meta-narrative, the connections become clearer.

Does some of this make no sense? Of course! A lot of this is extrapolating what was said in Wayward's post, and what came from my head as I thought of it. A lot of the connections of the twins to the Dragons has been discussed since 2010, but for all intents and purposes, Warden Ingo is a different character from Subway Boss Ingo. Narratively, he is the same person, hence why his appearance is a tragedy in Legends Arceus, one which we never get to solve. But on a meta level, he functions so differently, and lives so differently, that the themes he inhabits do not match up to the Subway Boss in any way. To end this on a sad note, Warden Ingo is exactly like Kyurem - Broken. He has lost what made him whole, and we've been shown that just reinserting Ideals isn't enough. Hopefully, if Game Freak decides to touch upon the Warden once more, we can find a way to reinsert his Truths as well.