#EVEN HIS STUPID LOOKS HAVE A REASON BEHIND IT

[keikeichi123456]

zosan streamer au except theyre both faceless and both unknowing fans of each other’s online personas, kinda like a miraculous ladybug situation

zoro and sanji know each other irl and they HATE each other even though luffy is their mutual friend, they had terrible first impressions of each other and well, let’s just say some nasty things were said from both sides

meanwhile, sanji is a huge fan of zoro’s stream persona and zoros a huge fan of sanji’s stream persona

their fans want them both to collab, so they set up a collab using their online personalities and when they collab, their popularity skyrockets because of the shippers (of course)

sanji finds zoro’s online personality really fun to talk to and vice versa so they start getting closer and closer, eventually delving into just pure flirting

zoro eventually brings up the prospect of meeting irl cuz its obvious that theyre both into each other

sanji has a conundrum cuz he doesn’t known this man irl or what he even looks like

he knows that the man is kind, patient, and unassumingly funny. for some reason, behind the wall of online anonymity, sanjis able to open up about his past, his trauma, his inner turmoil, and his family. the stranger listens intently and somehow always find the right things to say. he finds himself falling in love with this stranger, this faceless man

he knows that falling in love shouldnt be this easy, this painless, but sanjis life had been nothing but pain and grit, maybe, just maybe, he can have something easy for once, something he doesnt need to claw, scream, and beg for

then, sanji and zoro finally arrange a meeting (more like a date) and see each other for the first time

they both freeze, zoro stares in shock and sanji stares in horror

of course things would never be that easy, he was a fool to ever think that things would go his way for once. of course the man that he fell in love with was the man that also hated him all along

it was fun while it lasted.

zoro wasnt even able to open his mouth before sanji ran, so fast that zoro had no way to follow him (no, it wasn’t cuz he got lost, sanji was just fast okay?!)

he tries his best to contact sanji but sanji is radio silent: absolutely no word from him, not even luffy knows where he is

zoro stops and thinks for the first time in a probably a decade, he talks to luffy, he talks to usopp and they all agree that the next best thing to do is to make a public video basically asking sanji to please text him back (it was luffys idea that usopp encouraged and zoro reluctantly follows along cuz well, luffy said it would work so it must)

they film a low-budget, low-quality video where zoro is just on his knees saying please please please over and over again, the description says “please call me curly lets talk 🥺👉🏼👈🏼”

(usopp wrote the description, luffy directed the video, if it was anyone else, zoro might have thought they were setting him up but he trusts them wholeheartedly)

it gets posted on his main channel and it goes viral cuz its so primally stupid and relatable, zoro basically exposes himself as the really popular faceless streamer but fans are NOT disappointed cuz the man is FINE AS HELL

it ends up on sanjis feed while hes in the middle of doomscrolling and crying to nami and robin and they all just see sanjis crush begging him for attention, they look at each other and look at the video again

nami, ever the voice of reason, basically forces sanji to text him at least. zoro made sanji happy and it would be a disservice to sanji if he just let that slip away without a fight

they talk it out, end up actually meeting face to face and they find that their chemistry is electric and sanji begins to hope again

in the end, they make a video together showing their faces and reveal their relationship to their fans and the shippers go wild

tldr

zosan: im falling in love with oomf???

[authortelevision]

jealous george ₊˚⊹♡

words: 3,304 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆flatmate george clarke, fluff, friends to lovers

you have been friends with george for a while and since moving in to his shared flat you’ve learnt that chris loves to tease and flirt with you, after playing truth or dare you’ve also learnt that george might have a truth he isn’t ready to tell you yet

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

thanks @wroetolex for the idea !!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

You’d been friends with George Clarke for as long as you could remember. From climbing trees in your back gardens as kids to navigating the worst of university together, George had always been a constant in your life. There was something lovely about him—reliable, funny, the kind of person you could count on no matter what.

It was an easy friendship, the kind where you could pick up conversations exactly where you’d left off, even after months apart. But now, living together in a flat with two other housemates, things felt… different.

It wasn’t that George had changed exactly. He was still the same dry, sarcastic George who could make you laugh with just a stupid impression or an under-the-breath comment. But there were moments now where you’d catch him looking at you a second too long or leaning just a little closer than necessary.

And then there was the way he touched you.

It had always been natural for George to be touchy, he was just that kind of person. But lately, the touches felt… different. Softer, more deliberate. Like the way he’d rest his hands on your waist when squeezing past you in the kitchen, or brush stray bits of hair from your face without a second thought. Sometimes, when you were sitting next to each other on the sofa, he’d place his hand on your thigh lightly stroking it without a second thought. The gesture that didn’t seem to have any reason other than the fact that he could.

It wasn’t just you noticing, either.

Arthur had teased you about it more than once, laughing about how George would always stand just a little too close when you were talking, or how his hand would linger on your shoulder whenever he walked behind you. “Honestly, how have you been friends that long and you haven’t at least kissed yet,” he joked one night, all you could do is roll your eyes.

“He’s just like that,” you’d insisted, brushing it off. But even as you said it, you weren’t sure you believed it.

You weren’t sure when it had started, this strange awareness of him. Maybe it was the way he always seemed to notice when you were upset, even before you said anything. Or the way his laugh could light up an entire room, making you forget whatever was bothering you. Or maybe it was just the fact that George was, well, George, uncomplicated in the best way, someone who just got you.

But nothing had ever come of it, and you weren’t sure it ever would. After all, you were friends. Best friends. You’d never even thought about risking that, until now.

Because now, Chris was in the picture.

Chris had been a bit of an issue from the moment you’d moved in, with his constant routine and inappropriate jokes about you and George, the kind of guy who could talk his way out of anything. He loved pushing boundaries, especially George’s, and lately, it seemed like he’d taken a particular interest in you. It was harmless, of course, just Chris being Chris.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

But you couldn’t ignore the way George’s mood shifted whenever Chris’s teasing got a little too much, or how his comments became harsher, more defensive. And you definitely couldn’t ignore the way George’s touchiness seemed to intensify, his hand on your back lingering just a moment longer when Chris was in the room, as if to quietly stake a claim.

Something was definitely going on between you two. You could feel it every time George looked at you, every time he made one of those quiet brutal remarks when Chris got too bold. Whatever it was, it was building.

And you had no idea what would happen when it finally came to a head.

The flat was filled with the comfortable chaos of a lazy night in. The living room was a patchwork of cushions, discarded blankets, and half-eaten Thai food. Someone had dimmed the lights, the glow of the lamps giving everything a warm, intimate feel. Your flatmates were sprawled across the modern furniture, all caught up in the easy feeling of the moment.

It was Chris’s idea to play Truth or Dare—of course, it was Chris’s idea. He thrived on moments like this, always looking for ways to push people just far enough for his own amusement. You were sat on the sofa between George and Chris, your usual spot, though you couldn’t help but notice how George seemed just a little closer than usual tonight.

Chris was in fine form, as always. He’d already embarrassed Arthur into confessing his worst Hinge date story and dared George to drink an unholy combination of Birra Moretti and salsa. Now, he leaned back with the self-satisfied smirk of someone who thought he owned the room.

“Alright,” Chris said, his eyes glinting mischievously. “My turn and imma say truth.. and my truth is… that I used to have a little crush on you.” He directed the comment squarely at you, the grin on his face daring you to react.

You blinked, thrown off balance for a moment, before rolling your eyes. “Oh, come on. You’re such a lying asshole.”

“An attractive asshole, though,” Chris said back, leaning into the bit. “I mean, let’s be honest. Who wouldn’t? You’re funny, you’re gorgeous.. I guess… and honestly, you’re the only one in this flat who doesn’t steal my shit.”

“Wow, high standards,” you responded, trying not to laugh.

Chris grinned, unbothered by your deflection. “Hey, I’m just saying. If you’re ever sick of these boys, my door’s always open, we can talk over some food.”

The room burst into laughter, everyone enjoying the ridiculousness of it all. But beside you, George had gone very still.

“Yeah,” George said, his tone light but with an edge that made you glance at him. “Good luck with that. Maybe next time you should ask her opinion on your shitty cooking before you start planning your future.”

Chris tilted his head, pretending to consider this. “Ah, okay so she has preferences. A crucial first step. Of course.”

“Especially since she doesn’t even like your tasteless lamb,” George added, his voice sharp in a way that felt out of place.

Chris shrugged, unfazed. “Well, we all have our faults,” he said, winking at you. “I’m sure I could convert you eventually.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Not a chance.”

The conversation moved on, but the energy in the room felt different after that. George didn’t join in the way he usually did. Instead, he stayed quiet, his arms crossed, offering the occasional dry comment whenever Chris’s flirting got too much.

As the game continued, Chris leaned further into the joke, making playful comments about him liking you.

“Honestly,” he said later, “if we weren’t living together, I’d have asked you out ages ago. But, you know, flatmate stuff and all.”

“Wow, you really know how to talk to a woman,” you joked, shaking your head.

George leaned forward, speaking before Chris could. “Yeah, because nothing says ‘romance’ like passive-aggressively leaving your dishes in the sink.”

Chris laughed. “Hey, those are part of my charm. Don’t act like you wouldn’t miss me if I moved out.”

George didn’t miss a beat. “I think we’d survive. At least she wouldn’t have to put up with you filming your voice overs at 2 a.m.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, he’s got a point there.”

Chris held a hand to his heart, pretending to be offended. “You hurt me, both of you. But don’t worry, George. I’ll give her front-row tickets at all my games, and I’ll sing Arthur’s songs at our wedding.”

That did it. George sat back abruptly, his expression hardening. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly how she’s always pictured her big day.”

The sudden bitterness in his tone surprised you, and for a moment, the room fell quiet.

Later in the game, the group was getting tired, but Chris wasn’t done yet. He leaned back, arms stretched behind his head, and grinned. “You know, George, you seem to know everything about her. Should I be worried you’re my competition?”

George’s jaw tightened, and he leaned forward, his voice dangerously calm. “I’m just saying maybe you shouldn’t pretend to have a crush when you don’t even know the basics.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, still smirking. “Who says I’m pretending?”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “Wait, what?”

Chris winked at you, his tone still awfully calm. “Relax, I’m kidding. Mostly. Unless you’re interested, in which case…”

George stood abruptly, cutting him off. “Alright, I think we’ve had enough for tonight.”

He left the room without another word, leaving you and the rest of the flatmates staring after him in stunned silence. Chris glanced at you, his smirk softening. “What’s wrong with him, I was only joking?”

You shrugged, trying to shake off the weird tension. “I’ll go check on him.”

You found George in the kitchen. He was scrubbing the counter with a level of focus that suggested he was trying to erase more than just crumbs. The faint hum of the fridge filling the space as you leaned against the kitchen counter. George stood a few steps away, arms still scrubbing. His hair, a soft chestnut brown that always seemed to fall perfectly without any effort, was slightly mussed, and his jaw clenched as he stared at the counter.

“Hey,” you said, propping yourself up on your elbows.

George didn’t look at you. His beautiful blue eyes, usually so clear and steady, flicked toward the counter instead. “Hey,” he responded.

George said, his voice sharper than he intended. He finally looked up, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, the weight of it was enough to steal the breath from your lungs.

The kitchen light caught his eyes, making them impossibly blue, like the sky just after a rainstorm. You could see the frustration etched into his face, the slight furrow of his brow, the way his lips pressed together like he was holding something back.

You leaned against the counter, watching him. “You okay?”

“Fine,” he said shortly, his tone jarring.

“Right.” You crossed your arms, not believing him for a second. “So the whole moody silence thing is just for fun, then?”

That earned you a faint, fake laugh. He set the sponge down with a sigh, finally turning to face you. “It’s nothing. I’m just tired.”

“Uh-huh.” You tilted your head, studying him. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Chris, does it?”

George rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair. “Chris’s an idiot.”

“Okay,” you said slowly. “But why does that bother you so much? He was just joking around.”

George’s jaw tightened. “Because he doesn’t know you.”

The intensity of his words surprised you. “What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t know anything about you,” George said, his voice rising slightly. “I’ve known you for ages. He doesn’t know shit, like that you hate lamb no matter if it’s his or not or that you can’t stand his awkward karaoke singing or that you hum when you’re nervous. He doesn’t know you reread the same book every year because it makes you feel safe, or that you always eat the edges of your toast first because you like saving the best part for last. He just… throws out stupid lines like it’s all a joke.”

You stared at him, stunned by the outburst. “George…”

He looked away, shaking his head. “Forget it. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m getting so worked up. It’s not my business.”

You stepped closer, your heart thudding louder in your chest with every inch you closed between you. “George,” you said again, “do you want a hug?”

The question caught him off guard, and for a second, he blinked at you like you’d spoken in another language. “What?”

“A hug,” you repeated, smiling gently. “You look like you could use one.”

He hesitated, his arms unfolding awkwardly, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “Uh… sure?”

You didn’t wait for him to decide fully. Instead, you closed the distance and wrapped your arms around him, your head resting against his shoulder. His body tensed at first, like he was unused to the softness of the moment, but then he relaxed, his arms coming around you hesitantly at first and then more firmly.

He smelled like the faintest trace of aftershave and the laundry detergent you both used. His body was warm, and for a second, you let yourself sink into the comfort of it.

When you pulled back, you caught the faint pink tint creeping up his cheeks. He was looking anywhere but at you now, rubbing the back of his neck like he didn’t know what to do with himself. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Are you blushing?” you teased, grinning.

“No,” he said quickly, his voice a little too high.

You laughed, crossing your arms. “It’s okay, George. It’s just me.”

He let out a huff of air, finally looking at you. “You don’t get it,” he muttered.

“Don’t get what?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “Chris’s an idiot. That’s all.”

You sighed, stepping closer again. “You’re being stupid, you know that? It’s not like I’m interested in Chris or anything.”

He blinked, his expression shifting. “You’re not?”

“No,” you said giggling. “Fucking hell George, just stop talking.”

And then, before you could overthink it, you leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn’t the kind of kiss you’d imagined when you’d let your mind wander late at night. It was softer, lighter. His lips were warm and slightly chapped, and for a moment, he didn’t move.

But then his hands came up to cup your face, pulling you closer. The kiss continued, your heart pounding so hard you were sure he could feel it. His fingers were slightly wet from his scrubbing, his touch almost like a ghost, and when he pulled back just enough to look at you, you saw something in his eyes that made your knees weak.

He stared at you, wide-eyed. “Oh,” he said quietly.

You laughed, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Um… okay,” he stammered, his face reddening again.

You smiled, leaning your forehead against his. “You’re actually quite cute when you’re nervous, you know that?”

“Stop,” he murmured, finally smiling. “But I thought you liked Chris.”

You leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, “Of course I don’t, you’re the only idiot i’d like”

George let out a breath he didn’t seem to realize he’d been holding. “Good,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Because I’m pretty sure I’d lose my mind if I had to watch him keep trying.”

You laughed softly, the tension between you dissolving into something warmer, sweeter. “You must know he was only joking?”

He smirked, finally regaining some of his usual confidence. “Yeah I definitely knew that.”

For a moment, the world outside the two of you didn’t exist—the messy kitchen, the flatmates in the living room, even Chris with his incessant teasing. All of it faded away as George leaned in again, his lips kissing yours with a little more certainty this time.

When you finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “So, what happens now?” he asked.

You smiled, threading your fingers through his. “Well, for starters, you’re going to stop being moody every time Chris makes a joke.”

George chuckled, his fingers squeezing yours lightly. “No promises.”

“And,” you added, tilting your head to meet his gaze, “we’ll figure the rest out as we go. Okay?”

His smile widened, his blue eyes softening. “Okay.”

Just as you were about to kiss him again, the sound of Chris’s voice carried from the living room. “Hey! What’s going on in there?”

George groaned, resting his head on your shoulder dramatically. “He’s actually insufferable”

You laughed, nudging him gently. “Come on. Let’s get back out there before he starts another round of Truth or Dare.”

George sighed but didn’t let go of your hand. “Fine. But if he says one more word about a wedding, I’m throwing him out.”

You grinned, pulling him toward the door. “You’re so dramatic, Oh my God.”

As you stepped back into the living room, George’s let go of your hand, Chris immediately spotted the change between you both. He raised an eyebrow. “Look who decided to rejoin us.”

Arthur glanced between the two of you, his eyes narrowing. “Wait a second. Are you two—”

“Shut up,” George interrupted, though his tone lacked any real heat.

You squeezed his hand, laughing softly. “Don’t worry, Arthur. You’ll get the full story later.”

Chris leaned back, clearly delighted. “About time,” he said with a grin. “Guess I’ll have to back off now, huh?”

“Guess you will,” George shot back, his tone dry but the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

As the laughter died down, you caught Chris’s eye and couldn’t help but smirk. “For the record,” you said, your voice carrying a teasing edge, “I always knew you were joking, Chris.”

Chris put a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Joking? I would never joke about something so serious.”

George muttered something under his breath, and you grabbed his hand giving him a reassuring squeeze. “It’s fine,” you whispered, just for him. Then you turned back to Chris, “Well, thanks for your confession, I think.”

Chris laughed, leaning back with exaggerated smugness. “What can I say? I have a gift.”

“Your gift is being obnoxious,” George replied, though his tone had softened now, the sharpness replaced with a reluctant smile.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, enough about that. Who’s next in Truth or Dare? Arthur?”

The next morning, Chris caught you both in the kitchen, you sat on the counter, leaning in to talk to George. He raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Well, well. Looks like my work here is done.”

George groaned. “Don’t start.”

But you just laughed, jumping off the counter to slip your arms around George’s waist, resting your head on his back.

[beanarie]

of course 3/3

1/3

2/3

entire fic on ao3

in which tommy finally admits he should maybe see a therapist.

thanks again to @mooshkat for the original concept

(tw: heart problems, hospitalization, self loathing)

~

Bobby is the next to show up.

"Hi," he says, disconcertingly tall as he stands over Tommy's bed with a small tupperware. "I figured you can't have anything we would normally bring for someone stuck here, but there's this recipe I liked after my heart attack. It's just chickpeas tossed with olive oil and a bit of curry powder."

"That's very thoughtful," Tommy says, touched and confused. He starts tucking in immediately. The food here could be worse, but he never has much appetite when he's unwell. Maybe eating something will make the nurses frown less often. They're very frowny in this unit. Makes sense, as they probably have the highest proportion of deaths in the building, but it's shit for patient morale.

Bobby's still standing, so Tommy tilts his head at the chair and continues eating.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, once Tommy has left the now half-empty container on his tray table.

"Fine? Tired, mostly." Which is probably for the best when the only change of scenery he gets is the regular trips to imaging. All the napping doesn't leave time to develop cabin fever. "You?"

"I'm good. A little concerned."

Shit. So he's just jumping right in. Tommy works on his breathing. "Oh?"

Bobby nods. "Buck is getting released in the next few hours. He'll probably be up here as soon as they hand over the discharge summary."

Tommy doesn't eye the monitors, but he has a brief fantasy about ripping the leads out and smashing everything on the ground. It's been a long time since he's felt this exposed for this long. "That's good."

Bobby puts his hands on the armrests of the chair. "Hen seems to think you don't want to see him, which is interesting since Buck is behaving like you're pretty much back together."

Keep him away. Do it so I don't have to see his face. "I- I'm-"

Bobby looks at him like he's a spooked horse. "I'm not just here for him, okay? I wanna help you get clarity on what you're actually looking for before it blows up in both your faces again."

It's such a brazen offer Tommy can't help but laugh. "You're welcome to try?"

Bobby smiles a little. "Kid's got a heart the size of Alaska, but--or maybe because of it--he's like the La Brea tar pits. Once you're in, that's all she wrote. It's fine, though, great even. If that's your choice."

Tommy tilts his head, reconciling this man with the friendly, new in town captain who had a veil behind his eyes. In the last eight years, everyone at the 118 figured out how to open a vein for each other, and here's Tommy. Out, flying, and only able to meet his own eyes in the mirror half the time. "What if I'm a bomb," he asks. "Or... whatever destroys tar."

"Is that how you want it to be?" Bobby presses gently.

Tommy rubs at the side of his neck. "I'd be a monster and an idiot if I said yes, wouldn't I?"

Bobby spreads his hands. "There's no relationship jail, Tommy. Doesn't matter to me if you're either or both those things. All I ask is that you keep it away from people I care about."

"No. It's-" Tommy shifts his gaze, his vision blurring. "It's not- That's not what I want. But it's not that easy, Bobby."

"Didn't say easy. Didn't even imply it." Bobby moves a box of tissues from the nightstand to the tray table. "You're no stranger to tackling something hard because you thought it would be worth the effort. Maybe give yourself a little credit."

There are oval-shaped bruises in a roughly circular pattern on Evan's forearm, resembling a school of fish. Those weren't there after the crash. Tommy flexes his right hand, which has been stiff and sore for no apparent reason. "I did that," he says.

"Yeah?" Evan frowns in confusion. "You were suffocating. It wasn't on purpose."

It can be an omen if Tommy lets it.

"Tommy?" Evan says.

Omens are stupid. "Hm?"

Evan fidgets with his free hand, pulling at the edge of his sling. "You said of course you love me, like it was easy. Like it was a given. People don't- haven't said it like that."

"How did they say it?"

"Like they were surprised. Like it was the last thing they could've expected."

"I knew it was a possibility the first time I kissed you," Tommy says, tired of choosing between truths.

He looks up. "You did?"

"Evan," Tommy sighs, "you're the fucking sun."

His beautiful eyes widen and get wet at the corners. "I didn't want the first time I said it to be when- when you were dying in my arms." A shadow passes over his features and Tommy's fingers curl, gathering a handful of his blanket. "I wanted- needed to believe that I'd get another chance. I love you, too, Tommy."

Tommy is so grateful this conversation is taking place today, when he's recovered enough to not cause an international incident every time he does anything more stressful than looking at the color green. The specter of the alarm still looms, but he's done okay so far. "I might not have heard you, if you had said it then." Tommy gestures at his chest. "The wheezing, it was very loud."

"You heard some things, though? It felt like you- you were reacting."

"Yes, Evan. You kept me going."

Evan beams. Tommy aches from the inside like someone sprinkled salt in his IV bag.

"I need," he warns, "so much therapy."

Evan shifts forward in his seat, grunting softly in pain. "I can get you some recommendations."

"Of course you can." Tommy smiles.

Evan is inches away, practically falling out of the chair. "Can I touch you?"

"Do you have the slightest idea how many medications I'm on right now?"

He ducks his head and laughs. "You know that's not what I meant."

"Oh, well, show me what you m-"

Evan lays his free hand lightly, ever so lightly, over Tommy's battered heart before leaning forward and pressing their foreheads together. "I'm so proud of you," he whispers. "I asked you not to run, and you stayed."

Right after the alarm goes off, Tommy pulls away just far enough to capture Evan's mouth with his own.

[jaembun]

your golden arrow went through my heart.

dancing together at a wedding.. he can’t help but think about your own ！⠀⸻⠀na jaemin x gnr ⠀ fluff he’s soooo downbad ⠀ wc 1.5k ⠀ now playing . . ☆

생각⠀FFFFFFUCKKKKK I NEED HIMMM. plagiarising myself sorry yeonjun

the smell of champagne, perfume, cake, and smoke was rife in the large hall, multicoloured lights bouncing off every wall and poking into every crevice of the high ceiling. you knew jaemin’s family was fairly large, of course, but for every guest they must’ve extended an invite to at least three of their friends as well—everywhere you looked there was another person: a niece there, a work friend of his father’s here, an uncle there.

but you supposed the extravagance and the sheer size was necessary for a wedding—jaemin’s cousin’s, to be specific, who looked gorgeous in a gold-accented gown with the train and jewels to match, and who was currently being spun around on the dance floor by her newly wedded husband. the ceremony was beautiful, the reception was beautiful, and perhaps the most beautiful of all was the who-knows-how-many-tiers of wedding cake that you’d already helped yourself to three slices of, as well as reluctantly feeding jaemin bites of when he’d pouted and tugged at your hand until you’d given in.

he looked satisfied now, nestled into your side in the quietest corner of the almost-pitch-black hall while the music played and people danced, his younger relatives twirling each other in circles or skidding along the smooth flooring with balloons tied around their wrists and confetti stars glittering whenever they caught the lights from where they were tangled within their hair. other guests had chosen to hang back, settling at the tables nearer the other end of the venue (and nearer the food) with glasses in their hands and smiles on their faces. 

the pair of you hadn’t spoken in a while, content to sway gently to the music, and you assumed he’d fallen quiet because he was tired; worn out from the job that was trailing around the hall and saying hello to all the people he knew and a few he didn’t. and while that had taken a little out of him, the reality was that jaemin was only silent because he was biting his tongue—out of fear he’d do something stupid like get on one knee and propose to you right there and then, with nothing except his pocket square as a makeshift ring and the burning urge to ask you to be his for as long as you’d have him.

he wouldn’t do that, of course. it’d get him kicked out for stealing his cousin’s thunder, for starters. it’d be like his aunt standing up on a table and announcing that she was pregnant. the second reason was simply that he didn’t know what you’d say.

well. actually, not really. he would bet fairly confidently that you’d say yes—but you’d say it eventually. now was.. too soon. he’d need to have drawn up a down-to-the-last-detail plan, secure approval from all of your friends and family, and asked renjun for the best place to get the rings before he could even think of asking. it was just—how could he be standing here with you, in amongst all the love and the glitter and the music, and not think of dropping to one knee? he was holding on, but just barely. it would’ve taken nothing more than seeing the disco lights reflecting in your eyes for all his resolve to deplete, and so he focused on melding himself into your side and staring out onto the dance floor. 

that was, until you slid a hand from out of his hold and around his waist, tugging him to face you and gesturing towards the place you’d both just been watching, asking without saying a word. he could do nothing except nod and let himself be led, teeth pressing into his bottom lip. “marry me,” he wanted to scream, but instead he slung his arms over your shoulders and leaned in to rest his head too close to yours, breaths intermingling as you began an easy sway to the music.

the slow dancing had long been left behind, so your relaxed pace was slightly out of place compared to everyone else, but neither of you could really bring yourselves to care. jaemin would’ve been content to stay like that until the lights turned on again, but was startled by your sudden whispering: “you okay?”

he recovered quickly, easy grin on his lips as he replied, “of course. why wouldn’t i be?” but then he was looking into your eyes as he said it, and the song was just right, and your touch was so gentle—he was tripping over himself into his next words, head crashing down onto your shoulder as he pulled you closer. “i was just.. thinking about the day it’s us doing this, is all.”

when jaemin felt you still for a moment under his palms, his heart dropped to his feet—worried he’d overstepped by even bringing it up, head whipping back up again to laugh it off. but what he found in your face wasn’t disgust or discomfort, it was more gentle surprise, mouth opened with nothing to say. his hands slowly rose to cup your cheeks, and the warmth that met his palms made it impossible to hide the jaw-aching smile his mouth stretched into.

you shied away from his touch, shoulders hunching up in embarrassment at his smile, and jaemin was going to die. his heart was going to burst all over you in a shower of golden confetti and multicoloured stars, he was sure of it. he pressed as close as he possibly could, determined to leave absolutely no space between you, and brought his hands to rest lightly on either side of your neck, fingertips almost touching at the nape. your lips moved to speak, and your voice was quiet, shy. he fell in love all over again.

“jaem. you can’t.. you can’t say that here. it’s too—i’ll get—you just can’t. really.”

“why?” and he had no shame in his whiny tone, pout already on his face. your slow movements turned a little frantic when he twisted the both of you side to side in protest, ignoring a few looks from others on the dance floor. “i’m excited! just—just imagine. me and you. married. it’s gonna be the best.” 

eyes locked with yours, he could see the exact moment you decided to indulge him. “oh really? what colour’s your suit gonna be?”

“your favourite colour.” and jaemin knew he was being over-the-top, knew you’d only scoff and roll your eyes back at him, and he didn’t care. it was true. his suit your favourite colour, the cake your favourite flavour, the music your favourite playlist. he’d do it all for you.

“so sappy, jaem,” you teased, head leaning forward until your foreheads rested against one another. “keep it up and i might start to think you’ve got a ring box at home.”

not yet. but soon. after a talk with renjun. after a little more time. some part of jaemin wished he did have one stashed away in an unused draw, though. so he could spring it on you as soon as next week, get all the words he wanted to propose to you with out of his head, to hold your hand and feel the cool metal of an engagement band against his skin. not yet. soon. he repeated the words aloud to you, delighted at how the skin of your nape flushed hotter under his touch.

“i wanna kiss you.” his gaze was unwavering, hands desperate around your neck, cheeks red and grin gleaming at you through the dark. 

you flustered again, hands dipping in and out of his back pockets just for something to do, somewhere to put them. “not—not here. everyone can see.”

jaemin was still unbothered, knowing, annoying. “don’t care. i’ve been showing you off all night, they know you’re mine. and it’s dark!”

your shoulders heaved in a put-upon sigh, and he knew he’d won, leaning in and smiling into it. no matter how many times he’d done this, it always felt like the first time for jaemin—colours exploding behind his closed eyes, his whole body feeling golden. he chased you every time you tried to pull away, coaxing you back in, not letting you up for air until both of you were desperate for breath.

“one day,” he mouthed into your jaw, voice no louder than a whisper. “it’ll be us. it will. i’ll be so—i’ll make it—just. i promise.”

“okay, jaem,” you whispered back, hands now fully settled wrapped around his waist. “okay.”

the song shifted into another, and it was one you both knew; both loved. he couldn’t stop smiling even when you halted your soft swaying in place of more energetic, fitting movements, and instead joined in with you—fingers interlocked, his eyes on you the whole time. talks of weddings and proposals and suit colours could easily be discussed another time. tomorrow, if he wanted. it’d been fun entertaining ideas for a while, but tonight, now, he was going to enjoy himself. with you. the only reason he was having those dreams at all.

[enderisin]

I wanna do this for whatever reason >:3

The first one is so embarrassing omg

Image ID under cut :D (Sorry,

1:

A screenshot of a black background with white text, reading:

even his real name? "Nobody is stupid enough to walk into an old empty castle without a stake, not with all the anti-vampire shit nowadays. Tell me your real reason."

The liar dropped his bag (it didn't make a sound; the weapon must not have been there. A distraction, perhaps?). "I swear, I'm telling the truth. I just wanted some herbs; everything looked old, and the garden was full of weeds, so I thought nobody lived here."

Ah, now he was even insulting his home AND his gardening skills.

"I'm feeling nice today, so I'll give you a five-second head start."

"Wha?" The stranger looked scared.

"Five..."

He looked around, scared.

..Four.."

He took off down the hallway.

"

..Three..."

He threw open the front door to the castle and ran down the stairs, not bothering to shut it behind him.

2:

A screenshot of a black background with white text, similar to the first. It reads:

He just kept walking.

He knew if he stopped for even a fleeting moment, he would never get up again.

Instead, he focused on forcing his weary body to move forward.

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

He counted his pace in his head, refusing to acknowledge the way he flinched at every movement he made, no matter how small.

It hurt. Badly. But it would hurt much more if he let himself curl up on the ground and become nothing more then another soul lost to hands already oozing with blood.

He would hit himself every time his weaking legs slowed down, if necessary.

He would do anything to keep going and live, to prove common sense itself wrong.

OK YALL i wanna start a tag game coz why not :333

rules- post a snippet of one of your older writings/drawings, and then one of ur latest works :3 lets see how much we've improved :33

left is the beginning of my first fanfic and right is the ending of my latest fic (gosh im SOOO embarassed abt the first-)

tagging (no pressure ofc!!)- @thegolden-tigeress @meowmaii @kavehpilled @milk-violet @floraldresvi

@sonics-atelier @magicalgear @fyodorsushankaaa @still-fatemeh @fishii28 + open, feel free to join!

[kiko---random-stuff-probably]

Infection

How Kallamar got his scar on his left eye.

For context: Kallamar is seveteen and got recruited by Shamura (who is around 30).

Kallamar did not expect, after being recruited by War themselves as a poisoner, to be in any way met with open arms by the other soldiers, for several reasons.

First of all, he was not a warrior. He only stepped foot on the battlefield after everything was done, and some of the soldiers considered him way too fragile and weak to actually help.

Second, he was a foreigner, and had some problems with the language barrier, even if luckily he came from a place where Silk Cradle's language was pretty used and he even read it on some medical tomes. Still, he had a certain accent (that he was actively trying to lose) and some words were still unknown to him. He was pretty sure thatsome soldiers referred to him with a slur, bbut he was not sure. He wasn't the only foreigner in Shamura's army, but this was not going to stop it.

Also, the fact that he poisoned his ex village was considered by a lot of soldiers as a clear sign that he was, and he could quote the exact words a soldier used behind his back, "a psychotic piece of shit who will not hesitate to stab the Spider's back". Which, obviously, was not true: he had no reason to hurt Shamura! After all, they gave him a home, a role, hot food and sometimes they even talked to him! Way mroe than anything he could had ever wish for!

So, he knew he was not in any way welcome there.

Still, slashing his left eye was a little too much.

Right now, Kallamar was sitting on a brand bed in the medical bay, holding an hand over his now bandaged face.

The doctor was reassuring, once again, that his wound was not going to get infected and that he was going to have a quick recovery, before excusing herself and leaving when Shamura entered.

War glanced at the squid, their expression indecifrable and cold. Disappointed, maybe.

Kallamar looked at the ground, as his mind started to race.

- I was informed of what happened. I still want to hear your side.-

- I didn't... I was not the one to start it.-

- I have no doubt in that, but I still want to hear your version.-

Kallamar was shaking, as he tried to find the words.

- I didn't... I was just... they attacked me out of nowhere, and said i had to "earn my right to live" and things like that, and others were inciting them, and... and... and they had a knife, and...- he was more than omce interrupted by a few sobs - I was scared... I couldn't...-

- You managed to take their knife away and then stabbed your opponent, right?-

- They putted it down, saying something about "a fair fight", and I knew they could had easily snapped my back, I just...-

- You stabbed them in the neck. Precisely in the carotids.-

Kallamar still didn't loook at them.

- And than you stabbed them other fifteen times. Some of the soldiers even report that you started laughing during your rampage.-

Kallamar holded back a sob. As they needed another reason to hate him. He was going to be executed, or thrown in the prison at best. All for a stupid fight.

- I really can't see why you were scared. Honestly, I'm impressed.-

Kallamar looked at the spider, trying to catch an underlying sarcasm. Instead, he found something akin to pride - Do not worry, I am not mad about their death, it was self defense after all.-

- I killed them.-

- They attacked first with the intention to kill you. I can forgive your reasonable outburst of adrenaline. We will have to work on your emotion management and teach you how to incapacitate an opponent without killing them, even if I doubt someone else will decide to try something similar to this.-

Kallamar was sure he must had misheard them.

-... Why aren't you mad? You should be mad that I was the one who survived. You should...- towards the end, he slipped in a swear word in his language.

Shamura's expression was filled with genuine confusion.

- Why would I be mad about that...? You are an important asset in my army and also a good kid with a promising future. I would had been really upset if you actually died.-

Bullshit. They must be lying. He was just a stupid weakling who could not do anything right and who's only role in life was to die and-

- Regardless of whatever your old village made you believe, you matter as much as anyone else. I'm happy you're alive, kid.- the spider gently patted his head, and that was it.

The squid bursted into tears, overwhelmed.

War let him cry, fully knowing how much he needed it.

[syndrossi]

Just had the naughtiest idea. Resonant Otto, who is an arrogant scheeming snake, waking up in Regnal with his memories, to find Baelon King, Daemon as Prince of Dragonstone, with two male heirs (maybe more) and a loyal Rhea as his queen in waiting. Not sure how it would work with a fully Regnal Daemon and with a Resonant Daemon.

I don't know what Otto can really do about the situation. He's not really the murder-kill type, so arranging for Daemon's death is not really in the cards. He prefers the more hands-off approach of "let him get himself killed in the Stepstones" like in canon.

Courting Viserys seems like a losing proposition, with Daemon firmly established as Baelon's heir. Viserys has very little to make himself attractive to the lords of the realm. He doesn't have a dragon, and he has one daughter, and, inconveniently, still a wife. (To say nothing of the fact that Otto's daughter is only 10. Which honestly is enough of a change to throw him. Resonant!Otto has only ever known Resonant's fucked up timeline, whereas Regnal is pure book timeline. His daughter should only be a few years older than Rhaenyra, not eight years older!) Like, sure, he can wait another six years for Aemma to possibly die in childbirth, but it's attaching yourself to a losing horse.

Which means he's gotta look at Daemon's new family situation. It might be easier if Daemon's still seventeen and easier to manipulate. Maybe he can try to ingratiate himself with him, but Otto has always viewed Daemon as a danger to the realm / the Faith, so it would have to be a massive intervention to put him on a godly path.

Okay, so Daemon's out. Rhea seems to have an ironclad loyalty and plenty of motive to remain so, given that she'll be queen. At this point, his ins are:

Court the Velaryons for dragons, but no claim.

See if he can somehow win a match between his youngest son and Rhaenyra, since they're close in age. Still not a great prospect, since Viserys is not Baelon's chosen heir and Rhaenyra is a daughter, to boot. But it gives him a small claim + dragons.

Try his damndest to win Baelon's favor and a match between one of his children and Daemon's. Alicent is not a great age for this, since she's ten years older than the twins, but his wife is still alive, so perhaps he can hope for a daughter? Lots of chance involved here.

Hope for Rhea's death and try the Alicent ploy with Daemon instead. Depending on when he wakes up, Alicent might even be close to the right age for it, since she's 15-16 when Jaehaerys dies. Again, it's not the best move in the world, since his grandsons will be further down in the line of succession without a reason for their claim to be advanced ahead of their older brothers'.

It just doesn't look great for him. The ages are all wrong, the setup is worst case scenario. If he cares less about getting his blood on the throne and more about ensuring that a godly ruler who upholds the Faith succeeds to the throne, then he can try to influence Jon and/or Aemon, but they're pretty resistant given their summerhalling.

Dark horse option: given what he knows about Volantis, ally with them. They get Daemon's sons, leaving Viserys and Rhaenyra second and third in line behind Daemon. He aims for a match between his son and Rhaenyra or Viserys and Alicent. Otto won't love working with a bunch of warlocks and slavers, but if it's for a righteous cause and the good of the realm, so be it.

(Regnal!Daemon has no reason to suspect anything, and Otto won't be stupid enough to start a rivalry with him this time around. He'll play from the shadows and put on a cooperative/conciliatory face. Resonant!Daemon has him killed the moment he suspects he's a risk to his family.)

[diazsdimples]

🕵️‍♂️ 🕵️‍♂️ 🕵️‍♂️ 🕵️‍♂️ 🕵️‍♂️ 🕵️‍♂️ 🕵️‍♂️ 🕵️‍♂️ 🕵️‍♂️ 🕵️‍♂️♾️ (This one already has a chokehold on me)

30 sentences of the most niche AU I've created 😅 + another 9 for the infinity symbol.

He comes to a stop in the foyer, his eyes straying to the large grandfather clock ticking away merrily in the corner. It’s 4 o’clock now, meaning his parents’ dinner party begins in 2 hours, and there’s still another 7 until he’s due to meet the contact. Leaning against the banister of the grand marble staircase, Buck ponders his instructions. Look for the beginning of new life. That line in particular confuses Buck. Bryant Park hasn’t had new trees planted since the Fuhrer visited in the late 40’s, and unless Josephine Shaw Lowell had something to do with obstetrics, he’s completely at a loss. Life can begin in many different ways, but he struggles to connect it with the location. There’s a large stretch of lawn behind the fountain, sweeping up to the steps of the public library. Maybe new life could equate to new ideas, that one might get from reading a book? Buck shakes his head, trying to clear his mind. He’s overthinking it and he need to catch himself before he spirals and panics. There can be no room for error tonight. He turns on his heel to make his way to the library, eager to find something to take him out of his head for a moment, when a loud tut from behind him stops him in his tracks. With the familiar sinking feeling of dread, Buck turns to face his father. “Your mother is hosting a dinner party with some of the most influential members of the Nazi party in 2 hours, and you’re not even dressed yet? What have you been doing?” Buck bites his lip before he says something stupid like “committing the highest form of treason by conspiring to overthrow the Fuhrer and drive the Nazis from out country.” Instead, he takes a deep breath through his nose, pulling his face into a neutral expression. He won’t give his father a reason to be angry with him. “Reading a book Maddie sent me,” he replies coolly. His father rolls his eyes and adjusts one of the shining golden domes on the sleeve of his crisp uniform. Buck has always hated the way he insists on strutting around in that godforsaken uniform every day, looking like a prized peacock with his medals and shiny buttons. “The Reich doesn’t like men who have the heads in books, Evan. They’re of no use to us.” His tone drips with disapproval, but Buck is too accustomed to it for there to be any real effect on him. “I’m sorry to be such a disappointment, Father,” he replies stiffly. “I’ll make sure I don’t disgrace you in front of your – ah – friends.” His father narrows his eyes but says nothing more, dismissing Buck with a jerked nod of his head. Buck takes the stairs two at a time and makes a beeline for his room. He slams the solid oak door and leans against it, breathing heavily. Maddie. Mentioning his sister to his father had made his gut twist with guilt. She won’t know what happened to him when the news of his disappearance reaches her. His parents likely won’t do much other than the expected reports with the police. They won’t search for him like they would have done if it were Daniel. Maddie forever think she’s lost another baby brother. He can’t do that to her. Running a hand through his hair, Buck crosses the room in 2 long strides and throws himself at his desk, rummaging through the drawers for a piece of paper and a fountain pen. He reaches for the battered copy of Charlotte’s Web, their favourite book as children, and thumbs through until he reaches the cipher at the very back, before he begins to write.

Tagging @theotherbuckley @daffi-990 @jesuisici33 @spotsandsocks and @steadfastsaturnsrings for potential interest

[mercurial--supernovae]

"And? Not my problem. Never promised either of you would have what the client's looking for, just that if any of it's on the planet you might have some of it based off your little stunt in the news. "

Ya... Sounds like he doesn't care too much about Apollo apparently from the sounds of it no longer having any of the materials that they were after, at least not in a state they would be useful for their purposes.

"Just more of a reason for you to get lost and get out of the way."

He grumbles, dashing behind one of the sets of shelves to dodge the fucking knives. Only for them to land on the other side anyways. Great. Doesn't seem like he wants to get too close while the other was holding the lament, or like the guy even visibly has a weapon on him that isn't the gun currently in his hands.

Which he was now using to block the brunt of the swing. What the fuck were these things even made of?

It's almost like it's questionable why he was the one left to deal with the Exo right now.

Upstairs Bibi can only be thankful at least their webbing provided enough of an irritation to take the blade off them for even a moment.

Any second to breath with the complete and utter onslaught they'd been facing since the moment the two arrived was frankly needed.

The arachnid inches backwards towards one of the windows, in hind sight maybe making a mad dash would have been better seeing one of those storm grenades being brandished the moment this stranger got free.

"Whoa now.. Whatever the fuck.. all.. that is you're dealing with, blowing out the entire god damn floor from underneath us isn't going to be good for anyone involved here. You or Kallex included"

"Might want to take a breath before doing anything rash. Or stupid."

If the device is thrown anyways, Bibi uses all their hands to shoot webbing in hopes to encase the thing and maybe stop it from going off before it hit the floor. Though they had no clue if that'd actually even fucking work.

Apollo gave a derisive snort at the chimera's apparent offer. Not that they planned to hand anything over, but given what his goal was, this was going to be a real fun excuse to kick ass...

The Lament was brought up, a Solar shield keeping the brunt of the damage from sticking, albeit not without a bit of shrapnel or a stray bullet or two grazing their armor. With one arm braced against the flat end of the blade, they procured two Swarm grenades from their pack, and dropped them to their feet.

A quick gambler's dodge to the side, and the SIVA nanites that had begun to swarm the god slayer were met with vicious resistance from the tiny drones that had burst from their dropped artillery.

"Hate to break it to you bud, but you're a bit late to come looking for what I took."

A fan of blazing knives were chucked at Kallex, as the Guardian leapt into the air, kicked down and jumped on top of the fucking air, to get just a bit more distance and land behind the career criminal to then attempt another swipe with the Lament.

Meanwhile, Kallex's new partner was currently having a hell of a time, and was absolutely mentally stable and not having a breakdown in the slightest.

For one, there was now some kind of freaky, glowing webbing restricting movement, and throwing attacks off-balance.

For two, the ONE PERSON this assailant did not need to see again was right down these stairs.

So one might be forgiven for being a bit sloppy with the swordplay at this particular moment, two-handed swipes with Worldline Zero only chipping away at the substance.

"This- was- supposed to be EASY!!!" the warlock swore, each word punctuated with a swipe of the blade. After a concerted, definitely completely collected effort, the Stormcaller was now free.

Free, and holding up another Storm Grenade, ready to be chucked straight to the combatants' feet, unless stopped somehow.

"But you know what?! I am SICK and TIRED of my life going to shit because of that STUPID FUCKING EXO!!!"

Was... was this lightbearer... crying...?

[snalsupremacy]

Feel free to add others btw

[maliciousalice]

Hear me out (or don't... it's fine I'm just venting and mean) yeah um I don't believe Chakotay was saved in Prod*gy s2.

[dreamingaboutsakuratrees]

Dear God how I fucking hate when people dismiss s character's traits because "that's just a facade! you as the reader have to see underneath it!!" like yeah no fucking shit Sherlock, a well written character has more than one (1) defining trait but that doesn't mean their most prominent one or the one most recognized by fandom ISN'T there

yes this is about people thinking dick grayson isn't actually a ray of sunshine, that it's just a mask. he's much more than the happy one, of fucking course, all batfam members (when written well) are, but that doesn't mean that being happy and bright is not a crucial part of his personality. he brings light to people's lives, he's a beacon of hope, that's what Robin was born for, as a light to Batman's darkness. That's what Nightwing is. He can be serious, sure. He's smart, an amazing strategist, incredibly good at fighting, he can be manipulative and morally gray and sometimes an objectively bad person. But he's ALSO funny and quippy and bright and sunshine. BECAUSE HE'S WELL WRITTEN.

Like Jesus stop making him so sad and wrong all the time just because you want so bad to go against "fanon". It's not fanon if it's literally his core trait. It's not fanon if it's what the character was BORN AS. God.

[an-obligatory-blog]

Thinking about this post I made again because the more I think about it, the more I am glad that Infinite was not in Shadow Generations and the more anxious I am when he finally does.

Because I have like, conjured this idea in my head of how I want Infinite to return-- something that retains what was established in Forces (including his "unlikable" aspects) while progressing his character in a way that is one 1) meaningful, 2) not a complete joke, and 3) gives incentive to use him again and not shelf him forever after one more appearance. But the more I'm convinced of my vision, the more I think "there's no way this is happening" because very often, attempts to "fix" the character comes with an inherent lack of respect to a character's current traits-- erasing instead of working with what they have. Think of past (and I guess current) sentiments of "fixing" Amy and all the discourse that was spawned from it. I feel like I have tunneled myself into future disappointment as an Infinite fan and the fandom would be less resistant to it than Amy because I feel like people are more likely to accept whatever as long it isn't carbon copy of Forces.

Which is a shame because the main flaw of Infinite in Forces, imo, isn't that he's a "fraud", but that his backstory is empty. If your definition of "fixing" Infinite is to establish an understandable reason for his breakdown and flesh out his relationship with his squad without changing any of the story beats, you did not write an AU where "Infinite but what if he's a good character". What you wrote is a legitimate interpretation of Infinite because Forces said nothing about why he had that reaction Shadow or really anything about his squad. Sonic Team could legitimately take that and not have to call it a retcon because of how little it contradicts anything since, again, the issue was that it's "empty" not "rotten". To begin with, assuming that "Infinite's motive is nothing more than a tantrum" is just as much of a presumption as someone's fic coming up the most tragic sob story for Infinite to justify the events of Forces; it just that the former is the simplest explanation to fill the holes that Forces' less than stellar writing left behind and thus, the impression he leaves on the public.

If what I described is enough to "fix" Infinite in your eyes, then you may not hate Infinite as a character as much as you may think you do. It's not like it contradicts hating Forces' writing.

And I know that's not everyone-- there are plenty of people who rather have literally anyone else as the villain, someone who isn't a "fraud" or someone who is more "badass/cool" or even someone that embraces "lameness" as a primary trait aka a joke character. The most common sentiment I find on Infinite is "he is a character with a lot of potential, so I would like to see him back with better execution", but what do you mean by "potential"? What does this "better execution" look like? It seems like an opinion that the Sonic fandom can unite under on the surface, but I think that the moment Infinite were to hypothetically return, the division between who is satisfied and who isn't will surface.

Or maybe it won't. Maybe Infinite isn't important enough worry about how much of his original self is preserved or what a natural progression with him looks like as long as its paired with writing that's more palatable to the audience. If people were to go online and fight for something more in-line with his characterization in Forces, would anyone care? Wouldn't be more likely that such sentiments are deemed stupid?

I am glad that Infinite didn't show up in Shadow Generations because he doesn't belong there. Mephiles, Black Doom, even Metal Madness-- you can argue that they represent something to Shadow, but not Infinite. It's /Shadow/ who represents something to Infinite the same way Sonic represents something to the Avatar but not the other way around. It's possible to progress Infinite in a way that changes that, but that's not happening in a story that centers Shadow and his past because Infinite has nothing to do with that. All people expected from a possible Infinite appearance is the "I don't remember you" treatment (which again, already happened in Forces) that Mephiles ended up getting-- he doesn't represent anything that Mephiles, a character who is meant to reflect Shadow down to his appearance, doesn't already.

But Infinite could always appear when SEGA feels like it-- frankly, it was harder to bring back Mephiles given that he was wiped from the timeline but look at him here now. If he comes back and his character is taken in a direction that I don't like, is that me being close-minded? His backstory is empty so his "potential" is "infinite", but is anyone, including myself, willing to accept what's outside of what we consider ideal? I'd like to imagine that my ideas for him would be something that would make us all happy, but is that even possible, much less true? Maybe those are useless questions. We can only evaluate things that exists.

Infinite isn't a character that belong to me nor do I have any semblance of authority over him but falling in love left me feeling possessive. I feel arrogant and hypocritical-- thinking that canonical material that wouldn't meet my standards is better off not existing while trying to appreciate controversial material that many would not miss. I keep doing it because if not me, who else is going to think the way I do-- hating the exact things I hate and liking the exact things I like? A lot of Sonic fans do this, I think, so at least I'm not special. It makes you feel based as hell.

late night infinite thoughts/hc/analysis

despite being clowned on for his Ls and "i'm not weak" scene, i don't think infinite particularly childish? or more specifically not in the specific brand of "pathetic sore loser" that's been memed on. like he doesn't feel like the type of character who would throw a tantrum/be visibly upset if he can help it (particularly in front of shadow since that's the guy he's pitted against).

it's not that i don't understand why he left that impression-- the way shadow dlc told his background would ofc lead ppl to feel that it was an overreaction for being kicked a couple of times, but the thing is, we saw how he reacted when he met shadow again and what he said after being told that the hedgehog didn't remember him.

(using screencaps of the jp script, but i'm p sure en is the same jist)

sure, infinite is gassing himself up in this scene because of his shiny new rock, but when i saw this scene, my immediate thought was "so you think you aren't someone worth remembering"? (which can also be extended to his squad mates who were also defeated and thus "weak", regardless if you think they are dead or not) he's not particularly angry in this scene-- if anything, he admits that shadow's words of him being a loser (and thus weak) is /fact/.

hence why i think that infinite hates himself more than he could ever hate shadow. he can hide it by saying "well that's just the old me, i've changed. look at my virtual reality of green hill" but that mask isn't just for show. past or present, he is still himself even if he pretends otherwise. he is insecure, that's true. it's also true that his ego is fragile and that it hangs on his ability to suppress others.

however, his ego isn't unshakable at the face of failure or incapable of self-reflection, even if he wishes it was. the denial phase doesn't last forever.

to put it in another way, he's not the type of sore loser who will go "the other guy must've cheated" or "it's not fair" and deny the other person of their achievement. he's the type of sore loser who becomes frustrated with himself, trains himself to exhaustion, maybe cheat himself if tempted (you'll have to convince him that it would be a meaningful victory if he does though, (re. his logic on relying on magic rock ok, but relying on friends is bad and fake, apparently)), and fall into despair if his efforts don't pay off. that's really what his "i'm not weak" breakdown really is to me-- falling into despair and eventually accepting that he is powerless.

with high ego, he may dismiss losses as a fluke, but that requires plausible deniability to be present to fall back on. my point is that his arrogance doesn't come across as stable, it's just that conquering 99% of the world would convince anyone that they are hot shit.

also, he's not bad at /hiding/ his insecurity. insecurity isn't an aspect that was just added to him in the dlc and thus "ruining" him-- he just hides it well when he started wearing the mask. he only showed a mote of desperation by the end of his final boss fight. before that, we had sonic and the avatar breaking out from null space in record time and while eggman was in shock, infinite just stared silently-- he retained a "mysterious" aura for most of the game despite multiple setbacks. his ability to hide his emotions without his mask is up to you, but at the very least, he would at least /try/ to cover up anything he deems "unsightly".

what i'm trying to say is, i think he'd be upset being called weak, but i don't think that specific "overreaction" he had in shadow dlc is just something that happens every time he's insulted, esp when his ego is in a more stable state.

why he's so fixated about strength and weakness is pure hc territory bc forces writing sure as hell didn't explain it, but i think it's safe to say that he wasn't stable before his encounter with shadow and no matter how many ppl think that his motives are "stupid", this was something that meant a great deal to infinite. why it took until shadow for the camel's back to be snapped, idk maybe something happened to him earlier or maybe not, but regardless, infinite appears to be someone who is very desperate to be proud of himself and he measures how much he is worthy of pride through "strength". those who are strong don't think of those weaker than them, to him. (re. him saying that it's fine that shadow didn't remember his past self, and following up with "you're nothing to me now" bc he believes that he is now stronger than him. also note his quirk in jp where he calls ppl "gomi" (in katakana)/trash, idk jp well i just think it's neat)

this "fraud" quality of infinite's is something i find appealing as his fan, and not in the "i think it's brilliant to have a joke character that parodies edgelords" kind of way (infinite isn't purposefully meant to be joke and i don't think he has to be in order to be "good" with his current backstory). to segway into a different conversation, i don't care of the take that "infinite should've been an artificial lifeform like shadow created by eggman" bc to be frank (and i apologize if this is too spicy of a take), i don't see the benefit to that other than to give infinite more "aura points" by erasing his backstory as a "fraud". (bc a villain that doesn't meet the "aura" threshold is bad, i guess.)

bc here's the thing, right-- there are a lot of things you can compare and contrast between shadow and infinite and create a meaningful analysis out of it, but remember that infinite is the main villain of sonic forces and that sonic forces... is not about shadow.

sonic forces, if anything, is the avatar's story. the avatar is infinite's primary foil.

shadow defeating infinite parallels infinite defeating the avatar (at the start of the game). infinite gains help from eggman and the phantom ruby while the avatar finds the Power of Friendship, Love, and Courage (tm) through sonic. infinite finding solace in "fake" power while the avatar finds "true" strength. infinite believing that he is the one who sees the reality as it is (re. his theme song lyrics), when it was the avatar who sees through his illusions.

and i really like that. idk if these are the right words, but i feel like they stand out because of how "human-like" and "relatable" compared to everyone else (esp the avatar bc they are literally an OC). with the exception of tails (who is instead offset by being a kid genius), the sonic cast is filled with characters that have stronger than average willpower, leaving the "outsiders", infinite and avatar, to play catch up in their quest to find strength. they are not unshakably confident like sonic or endlessly persistent like eggman-- they are, at their core, embody the insecurity and lack of confidence that the ordinary person is more likely to succumb to. infinite is like a bandit boss in a jrpg: has a reputation of being feared, has followers/lackeys, villain vibes, but at the end of the day, they are just the first boss the protagonist wipes at the tutorial. the avatar would be a background character in literally any story except forces. they both "extras" trying to take the spotlight that was meant for the leads.

that is why i genuinely think that his current backstory has more value narrative-wise than that hypothetical one and it's not just preference. i don't care if forces has bad writing-- infinite and the avatar starting off as "ordinary people" as a parallel is neat and i will die on that hill. (and imo this attribute makes infinite a unique villain in the sonic verse. like he's not explicitly sympathetic like merlina was or even overtly tragic like gerald, but he manages to have that pitiable, human-like quality, you know?)

but yeah this is really about him not showing up in sonadow gens. like don't get me wrong, i would've been very happy if had shown up and i did lowkey expect it when i saw sunset heights in the trailer, but i'm not mad that he didn't ngl. for the reasons listed above, i don't see infinite as a "shadow villain" like mephiles and black doom are.

[isfjmel-phleg]

🌋

[sensitivegoblin]

Vent

[shotmrmiller]

getting shot down by ghost without even asking him out or anything because he'd heard from one scottish bird that your type of guy was exactly like him and thinking back on it now, all the qualities you'd listed for your dream man do sound like as if you were describing him. yikes.

you don't take his rejection to heart, even though it does lightly sting but before you get a chance to explain that said scottish bird is an idiot and very mistaken in his assumption, ghost is telling you that it'd never work, you'd only get hurt and that you do take to heart because what does that mean, exactly? does he think you some dewy eyed farm girl looking for love? that you can't have casual sex with someone without eventually wanting for more?

"tha' ain't wha' i said. you'd get hurt, i mean look at ya." what about you? it's not like you'd let any of what happens behind closed doors affect your performance or anything, you and kyle always keep things professional while in the field.

also, is he aware that he doesn't have to have a reason to not want to sleep with you, or anyone else for that matter?

"you're small," he states, as if fact.

small? small where? your irritation dissipates, shoulders bleeding tension as genuine worry begins to set in. his vision might actually be going bad. could it be the black paint he wears under his mask? is it even safe to use on the face let alone near the eyes? did he read the instructions?

but then you realize he's looking at your legs, or specifically, what's between them and things click, and now you're wondering how someone so bloody brilliant could be this fucking stupid.

"while i appreciate your concern, lieutenant," you pointedly snap, "that's not even- i'd be just fine." he's a big guy, for sure. massive, if being honest. his neck alone is easily bigger than both your hands and you've caught him once or twice having to duck his head to enter the debriefing room but him being so endowed that it poses a threat to you is idiotic at best.

he hums, long and low in his throat, as he peers down at you through heavy lidded eyes, and raises his right shoulder in a shrug. "as you like," and that's the one and only warning you got.

simon had given you as much foreplay as needed, had lapped at your pussy until you forgot what day of the week it was, curled and scissored his fingers until his bedsheets were sodden and it still hadn't been enough. he'd only fit about a fourth of it in before he took pity on you and fucked your thighs instead until he got close, pushing his ruddy tip back into your aching cunt because "spillin' outside is a waste," and sent you on your merry way.

you're no quitter though and after some shopping online, your saving grace (dilators) will be here in a week.

(now to find soap and rip the rest of his hair right out his scalp for wagging his tongue.)