#He’s a horrible person his existence doesn’t deserve to be celebrated

[lieutenant-amuel]

Today is Matías’ birthday!!

Happy birthday to the best friend ever <3

[thedramanotes]

The Great Misunderstanding Trope From Ye Olde K-dramas

Hello. So, I wanted to chat some more about this well known trope in Korean dramas from the 2000s and early 2010s.

Or if you ever picked up a romance novel from the eighties or nineties, this was one of the major tropes used there too.

I'm talking about the Great Misunderstanding trope.

Not that it ever went out of fashion exactly, but in the late 2000s, early 2010s, this had quite a resurgence and was used in pretty much every dramatic romance drama.

A drama that really exemplifies how dramatic this trope could get was secret from 2013, which had Ji Sung and Hwang Jung-eum.

There was a LOT of misunderstandings in that drama.

Now, typical of this trope is that the hero would be drawn towards the heroine despite believing the absolute worst of her. And the heroine would be in a situation where she can't clear up his misunderstanding for one reason or the other. Maybe she doesn't know that he believes the worst of her, or she's trying to protect somebody.

Maybe she's even trying to protect him.

And the hero's behavior gets really egregious, because on the one hand, he is terribly drawn to her almost helplessly. But on the other hand, he believes she is a really horrible human being. He's constantly experiencing inner turmoil because of her, and this crisis of feelings and beliefs makes him lash out at the heroine.

Since he believes the worst of her, his behavior towards her is the worst, and this is a key point of this trope.

The hero is constantly horrible to the heroine at this juncture of their relationship. While the heroine is either helpless to resist or hit back, or unwilling to hurt the hero in return.

Maybe because she's just a genuinely good person and she just has a high tolerance for pain, like Hwang Jung-eum in Secret or she is protecting him, like Han Ga-in in Moon Embracing the Sun, when she comes back into the life of the king and the king believes that she is an imposter sent to like mess with his head because she looks so much like his first love and throws her in the prison for three days where she doesn't even get like a drop of water.

And while she is barely alive, he's just going about his life feeling disturbed that the situation happened, but not really thinking about her condition. And of course then her character goes through several other trials, which he could have put a stop to and would have put a stop to if he knew that she was indeed his first love and not an imposter.

But, of course that would completely skip over this period where the heroine suffers at the hands of his enemies and he just lets it happen. But because of this period of suffering, the hero later on feels abject remorse towards the heroine. He is utterly guilt ridden because she had to suffer so much because of him.

And added to that aspect is the fact that she never hit back at him. She was never horrible to him in return. This heroine is usually extremely Gandhian in her approach to the hero, turning the other cheek and all that. She is virtue herself.

And once the hero realizes that about the heroine and he grovels at her feet and the she gets a moment to be like, "I don't hold anything against you, but I may need two years abroad to rethink life and to come back more deserving of you."

That's a whole other trope, but the point is that she gets a moment to sort of get the upper hand in the relationship. Now, this is an interesting aspect of this trope, this upper hand. The relationship dynamic between the hero and the heroine is such that the hero usually occupies a higher position in society.

He is richer, more powerful, maybe he's a celebrity. Either ways. He's in a different, entirely different strata than the heroine. And the heroine is really weak. Maybe she has been emotionally devastated by something that has happened in her life. She's definitely financially in a weaker position and probably also socially from a different class.

This huge class gap is one of the major reasons that this trope exists, and we'll come back to that in a second. The heroine starts the journey in this really weak position, but at the end of the story, the heroine is barely the hero's equal, and the way she becomes his "equal" is by getting the moral upper hand.

And the upper hand doesn't really put her in a higher position than him. It's not like for the rest of their life, they're going to have arguments and she'll bring up what he had done before and he'll be like, yes, you win every argument ever. No, that's not what the story is going for.

The story is making very sure we understand that the gap between them at the start of the story is so huge that the hero finally understanding the heroine's true virtues and how good she is, and that she had never done those awful things he believed of her and that she had suffered in silence while he tortured her - all of those things and the hero's guilt barely brings the hero up to be kind of his equal, at least equal enough that now they can have a relationship.

The heroine comes up in the world, hero doesn't go down at all. He loses only one thing, and that is the right to look down on the heroine, and that is an important aspect of the Great misunderstanding because as you might have noticed till now, I have been specifically telling you about how the hero is the one doing the misunderstanding, the heroine is the one being misunderstood. This particular trope usually flows in this fixed direction. The genders are pretty much fixed.

Occasionally they try to flip it, but the dynamic immediately becomes weaker and the story isn't as interesting.

I'm sure the dramas of decades before this period also had the great misunderstanding used liberally, but it was used to an excessive amount during that period, the late 2000s, early 2010s.

And the reason for that was that the class difference was still quite huge. And women still had fewer opportunities. They were coming up, but they were not quite there yet. And you have to understand, Korean dramas were primarily written for middle aged women who were housewives and/or working. And for most of them, their economic strata was kind of fixed.

There wasn't really a lot of opportunity to come up in the world in the decade after that. Even though the real world wealth gap hasn't exactly decreased, but you must have noticed that dramas no longer tell the stories of really poor women and really rich men. They tell the stories of really rich men and women who are middle to upper class, but don't feel inferior to these rich men.

Their upbringings, even though there is definitely a difference in wealth, no longer makes the two feel like they are from different worlds in terms of the education they got, the exposure they have in the world.

So, from the heroine's perspective, the gap between the two of them doesn't seem so impossible to bridge anymore these days, but back then it was HUGE. The heroine wouldn't look at the hero and think, hey, that's a guy I want to date. The hero would look at the hero and be like, I am drawn to her, but I cannot date her.

We saw examples of this in, let's say in Secret Garden where Hyun Bin was drawn to Ha Ji-won's character. He pursued her, but not for a relationship. He just pursued her heedlessly, but then anytime she reciprocated, he would be the one to point out how much of a gap there is between the two of them and how they could never be a permanent thing.

He was willing to offer her the position of his mistress, but not his girlfriend.

Another Hyun Bin drama is, my name is Kim Sam-soon, where you also had elements of the great misunderstanding, but it was essentially that class divide that made Hyun Bin's character again look down on Kim Sun-ah. Who was poor, clumsy, supposedly overweight and definitely from a different world class-wise than Hyun Bin's character.

So the class divide really is ultimately the reason why the great misunderstanding trope existed.

But you didn't always need the great misunderstanding trope to exist in a story to talk about class. Like I just said my name is Kim Sam-soon and Secret Garden both did that really well.They actually faced the question of class divide and how two people from two different strata would overcome that.

Those stories were directly challenging the idea of the class divide.

The stories that employed the great misunderstanding didn't really want to directly talk about the class divide. They wanted to solve that problem, the problem of the woman being from a weaker section of society, and also just having like a weaker position within the relationship with the hero without really underlining what the problem was.

So why was the trope so popular at the time? Because the class divide existed in reality and the drama watching audiences wanted more stories about it. And this was a morality play where the virtuous heroine has to go through this traumatic trial by fire to prove herself.

But once she has proven herself, the hero can never doubt her again.

The hero would now forever be so grateful that she has forgiven him for his big mistake in not knowing how wonderful she is, that he will never abuse her, he will never mistrust her, he will never doubt her.

Once their love is affirmed in this way, she emerges, virtuous, victorious, and having secured the love of this man.

And if you haven't figured it out yet, the great misunderstanding trope ultimately is not about the hero being a jerk to the heroine. It's about the heroine going through a hero's journey. To finally land up in a place where she is powerful enough to be the hero's equal morally. This is a female empowerment fantasy.

This was all we wanted. We wanted the hero to acknowledge the heroine's goodness and never doubt her. And of course, we as the audience absolutely love this. We loved that the heroine was sort of the personification of goodness. She may be clumsy, she may be silly at times. She may make poor decisions. She may make us extremely frustrated because she refuses to tell the hero the truth, whatever the truth may be.

But ultimately, we absolutely love the fact that the hero, once he figured out how wrong he was, how terribly he had treated her, and how much he owes her, once that moment struck, that's when the real payoff would happen. And of course then we had dramas like Secret where they would use the great misunderstanding to create some of the steamiest moments between the hero and the heroine.

Seriously, Ji Sung and Hwang Jung-eum had the most messed up dynamic in that story, and yet it's like seared in my brain. That was crack.

Now, something else to keep in mind is that the great misunderstanding has been used in modern day romances quite liberally as well. But this - what is used these days - is the great misunderstanding lite.

Like, you have Our Beloved Summer where the hero doesn't actually know why the heroine had broken up with him and sort of misunderstands her intentions, and then years later finally figures out why she was forced to break up with him at that point.

Or you have Love Is For suckers, where the heroine realizes that the hero has feelings for her, but she's still feeling conflicted. And she also knows that another woman deeply loves the hero and she doesn't want to come between them. So, she lets the hero misunderstand her, which creates a chasm between the two of them.

So you do have these instances of misunderstanding. It's not that dramatic because there really is no great payoff. There is no groveling hero. There is no guilt. There is no internal misery. There is no irresistible attraction that is constantly pulling the hero and hero in together. And they are just dying inside because they can't be together.

It's not that dramatic anymore. It's simpler.

Which on the one hand is a good thing. It's a good thing, but it also makes for less memorable stories.

I was trying really hard to think of more instances where the misunderstanding lite trope has been used in dramas recently, and I know there have been tons.

I just don't remember because, it was not that interesting. I just think, if you have to use that trope, it's maybe worth it to go full fledged, like modernize it, make the woman less of a dish rag or flip genders, but really commit to the trope. Don't just use it as this one throwaway thing that happens for two episodes.

That is a waste of a trope that could genuinely create a lot of heat and trauma, but also, I'm sure in the hands of good writers create moments where the hero and heroine could really talk about their differences - whether it's moral, ethical, political, religious, economic, or a clash of egos - actually get into the depths of why the two of them felt so torn asunder despite being attracted to each other.

I am sure we can modernize it and still keep the drama aspect of it.

It doesn't have to be this morality tale that requires the woman to be a saint. So that she could just barely be equal to the spoiled rich hero.

------

This essay was originally published as a video on The Drama Note YouTube Channel.

[foxcantswim]

Family Forgiveness || F!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Y/N decides to raise America Chavez as her own. Y/N's girlfriend, Wanda, hopes she can earn Chavez's forgiveness.

( aka Wanda is scared that she will hurt Y/N and America with her magic and she doesn’t feel like she deserves to start a family with them )

F!Avenger!Reader x Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch

Marvel AU where pretty much everyone lives cuz I say so...

Warnings: None

Words: 2.9k

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Chapter 2

Wanda never expected to be standing here again. She leaned against the wall and looked out at all the other people crowding around in one of the halls of the rebuilt Avenger's Compound. Tony was holding a belated anniversary celebration for the defeat of Thanos. After an attempt to sacrifice his own life for everyone else, Tony instead came out with only one arm. Stephen had decided to do everything he could to ensure that Tony would survive. And that's when the pair created a fully mechanical arm, with the signature red and yellow colours of Tony's Iron Man suit.

Wanda shuddered at the thought of Stephen Strange. It brought back memories of Westview and the multiverse and... her children. Her kids that didn't exist in this universe. She still thought that it was cruel that they lived happily in every other universe. But after almost trying to kill America and seeing just how wrong she was for even attempting to get rid of a variant of herself in order to be with her children - she was trying to be a better person.

Her eyes landed on you.

You were currently chatting away to Thor, laughing and drinking together. You and Stephen had managed to bring Wanda back to reality, with Stephen being reasonable and you being... Well... You. Wanda had created a fake life within Westview, one where she was with Vision and her two children. She was once happy with Vision. But it only lasted so long. She had only gone off with Vision to begin with to try and move past her feelings for you, Vision had been a great listener and the attention he gave Wanda was too irresistible to pass up. Once she was forced to take her fake reality within Westview down, all she cared about was finding her children again. That was until you confessed your feelings to her in the heat of the moment to try and drag her away from her path of destruction within the multiverse. She was on the brink of taking America Chavez's life and also her variant's... Until you showed up with tears in your eyes. Wanda had let her own tears fall as she finally accepted that she would never get her children back, you had held her in your arms to try and keep her stable. Despite seeing her kill innocent people, you still cared for her - and that was enough to stop Wanda from continuing.

Wanda folded her arms in order to hide her still darkened fingers. They weren't as dark as they used to be a couple months ago but they were still dark enough to bring back horrible memories of the chaos she caused. The Darkhold was still calling her name, but you were doing a great job at being her anchor and keeping her grounded and away from the darkness.

She continued to stand alone off to the side. Everyone was still cautious around Wanda, and rightfully so. Wanda didn't blame any of them for having their doubts. At least, she thought that everyone was avoiding her. That was until a certain sorcerer approached.

"Wanda."

"Stephen."

She purposefully avoided eye-contact, looking down at the ground.

"How er... How have you been?" he asked, genuinely.

Now this was definitely something Wanda wasn't expecting.

"I-I've been a lot better recently," she nodded, finally looking up to meet his eyes. She was thankful that they were far away from the loud music blaring from countless speakers within the room.

"Good," he smiled. Wanda was beyond confused. She hurt a lot of people in Kamar-Taj and she killed a few people within the multiverse, so why was Stephen acting like this towards her?

Wanda shook her head, "Why... Why are you being nice to me? After all the chaos I caused?"

Stephen sighed, "Anyone would be angry after losing their children, Wanda. You retaliated in an extreme way but..." his eyes drifted towards you, "I trust Y/N when she says that you have a good heart somewhere within you. You're proving that you care by helping to rebuild Kamar-Taj." Wanda visited the sacred grounds from time to time offer her help in any way the sorcerers needed, she sometimes even used her magic to help the reconstruction of the walls and buildings. She did her best to not use magic often though, she was secretly afraid of herself and her own abilities. She didn't trust herself. She would never forgive herself for the pain she caused.

"Y/N doesn't know what she's talking about," Wanda replied.

"Y/N is scary, I wouldn't let her hear you say that," he joked with a smirk.

Wanda couldn't help but smile in response as she returned her gaze back towards the ground. She couldn't help but take a quick glance up towards you though. An ache within her heart appeared at the sight she saw, her smile quickly dropped into a frown.

You were still talking to Thor, but a certain girl was quickly approaching you. Your smile widened upon seeing her. America Chavez. Thor held your drink as you engulfed the girl in a tight hug.

Stephen had been the one to suggest that you look after America and you couldn't say no after the pleading look the girl had given you. America had been close to you ever since you continued to save her time and time again. You had always put yourself between her and danger. Wanda had hurt you in her attempts to kidnap America, a huge scar upon your upper arm was proof of that. In the heat of the moment, Wanda didn't care. But now? Wanda hated herself for what she had done to you. She was sceptical about starting a relationship with you, but your persistence and reassurance that you did indeed love her was hard to resist. Wanda had loved you for so long she forgot when she initially fell for you. She just wished that the relationship had started upon better terms.

You pulled away from America to playfully slap Thor on the arm, presumably because of a joke he had made. Wanda smiled sadly at the scene.

"Have you talked to America yet?"

"No," Wanda said, "Every time I try... I'm at a loss for words. I'm happy that she's comfortable with Y/N, but she will never be comfortable with me. Nothing I say will gain forgiveness. I'm not even sure I deserve forgiveness."

"Don't say that," Stephen replied, "I'm sure everything will fall into place eventually. I won't lie to you, Wanda. I'm still in the process of forgiving you for what you did to Kamar-Taj. But believe me when I say that you and I are on good terms."

Wanda wished she could believe his words. But a constant insecurity was knocking about in the back of her head. The loud whispers coming from the Darkhold certainly weren't helping the situation either.

With a shaky breath, Wanda spoke, "I'm sorry, Stephen."

"I know you are, Wanda," he placed a comforting arm around her shoulders, giving her a brief squeeze before pulling away. He then took a couple steps back - the sudden space between the pair confused Wanda...

But then her eyes locked onto someone else approaching.

Wanda's hands flew to her jacket pockets, effectively hiding her darkened fingers. Her eyes quickly darted back down towards the floor.

"Hey... Wanda..." an uncertain voice escaped the girl.

"Would you like me to give you some space, America?" Stephen asked.

Wanda expected her to say no. There's no way America would be comfortable standing alone with her. Never.

"Yes, please," she nodded towards him.

Wanda's eyes looked back up in shock at the girl's words. Stephen gave the pair a warm smile before heading off towards you and Thor, you happily greeted him with open arms.

America fiddled with a loose thread falling off of the bottom of her jacket, "So..." she whistled, "I'm surprised you even came to the party. I'm guessing mom- Y/N convinced you?"

Wanda wasn't a stranger to being in the presence of America. The young girl usually hung around you a lot. You and America had been living in a small apartment together, near the Sanctum Sanctorum. You had begged Wanda to live with you and America, you would've loved to start a family with her properly... But of course, Wanda refused time and time again - continuously hating the thought of how she must have scarred America... How she must have scarred you. She was still confused at how you managed to love her after all she did... And now Wanda lived alone, moving from place to place. She was glad that the compound had been rebuilt, you had convinced to let Wanda have her own room within the building again. Wanda spent most of her time confined in those walls - a place where she couldn't hurt anyone.

"Of course she did," Wanda finally replied with a nod. It was growing harder and harder to deny anything you wanted.

Wanda looked up towards you once again. She had to hold back the tears. She had watched you be a great parent towards America for a few months now... But whenever she saw the two of you interact, all she could think about was how she had killed a father without hesitation in another universe. She couldn't help but think that she might kill you one day on accident.

"Well... I'm glad you came," America gulped hard, still slightly scared of how Wanda would react to her. This effectively pulled Wanda away from her harmful thoughts.

"O-Oh? I won't be staying much longer."

"I don't think Y/N would like that," she laughed, "We both know what she's like. She'll end up dragging you back here whether you like it or not."

She wasn't wrong. Wanda knew that you would love for her to stay. You had promised you would come straight back to her once you had said hello to a couple of the other Avengers you hadn't seen in a while. Wanda understood. It had been a long time since everyone had been in the same place at the same time.

"I'm stalling. We both know I am," America sighed, Wanda finally looked at her in response, "Look, Wanda. I... I know how much Y/N means to you. She means a lot to me, too. She was the only person who I've met across the multiverse who I actually wanted to stay with for good. But I don't want to get in the way of you two."

Wanda quickly shook her head, "You aren't getting in the way, you-"

"But I am!" America groaned in frustration, "I'm the reason you two aren't even living together."

"That was my choice."

"But why?"

Wanda bit her lip, "Because I can't. I want to. But I can't. It's not just because of you," she tried to convince the girl, "It's because of Y/N too. I'm scared I'll lose control and hurt you both. I can't live with you two because... because of what I put the both of you through. Especially you, America. You hate me and I wouldn't want to put any strain between yours and Y/N's relationship-"

"Wanda, that was almost a year ago-"

"It doesn't matter, I still regret it. I still have nightmares about who I was. Who I am," she then held up her hands in front of her, revealing her fingers, "I've been cutting down on the magic. I need to. I've hurt too many people. You didn't deserve anything that I did to you. I was in the wrong and both you and Y/N showed me that. I-"

Wanda was quickly cut off by a tightening feeling around her middle. She looked down in shock and confusion to see America. The young girl's arms were secure around her in a tight hug.

"You need to stop beating yourself up over this, Wanda."

A stray tear fell from Wanda's eye, "America..." her voice still shaky.

"Y/N and I have talked about everything that happened. I know what you did was wrong, but you are on the path to being better. Not a lot of people want to try to be a better person."

Wanda finally returned the hug, her own arms cautiously came up around America - she really hoped that she wouldn't hurt the girl. Her hands shook as they moved. A heavy sigh escaped Wanda, "I'm sorry, America."

"I know you are. And I forgive you."

"What-?"

"I forgive you," America affirmed once again, "Maybe you need to work on forgiving yourself. I'd like it if you moved in with us. It's becoming hard to listen to Y/N cry every night because you aren't there. I... I think you would complete our family, Wanda."

Wanda tightened her arms around America in response. A family. With you. That was something Wanda only dreamed about... She had seen those other universes where you and her had lived a happy domestic life together. It was hard not to go to one of those instead of searching for her children.

"Room for one more?"

America and Wanda pulled apart.

"She's all yours," America smiled before she took a step away, "Kamala promised me she would show me her powers so..."

You gave her a brief hug before allowing her to take her leave.

"Y/N..." Wanda finally whispered once the two of you were alone. Another tear fell quickly.

"You know I hate to see you cry," you sighed, sadly. You then reached forward and placed a comforting hand on her cheek, wiping away the tears with your thumb. It was now your turn to pull Wanda into a hug, "I heard America ask you to move in with us. I hope she can convince you if I can't."

"I don't know-"

"Please," you said as she held you just as tight as you held her, "We both want you to. I really want you to. I want to wake up next to you everyday. I want us to be a family. You still deserve to be a mother, Wanda."

A mother...?

No. No way did she deserve that. She couldn't-

"Don't listen to those thoughts..." you muttered, placing a soft kiss against her cheek. You had similar powers to an empath so you could feel other people's feelings, but only if they were strong and intrusive. The hatred within Wanda, for herself, was still as strong as it was all those months ago when you confessed that you loved her, "If you stay with us... With me... I'm sure you will forgive yourself. You'll see just how important you are to our family."

Our family.

"I don't deserve you, Y/N. I will never know how you can still love someone like me after the things I did."

"I've loved you for a lot longer than you think. I don't think I could ever stop. Deep down you have a good heart. You just need to learn how to use it," you leaned back to look at her, your arms still around her neck, "Please... Just give our family a try? For me?" your heart was beating fast, hoping and praying that she would say yes. All you wanted was for her to try.

Wanda looked away, her silence was slowly breaking your heart. You loved her dearly, but you had no idea where your relationship would even go from here if she said no.

"Wands...?" you whispered, silently begging for an answer.

And her answer came.

She looked back at you before quickly diving in, her lips connecting with yours. Your arms tightened around her neck in response, your eyes closed at the contact. You hadn't been physically close with Wanda for a few weeks now, her fear of hurting you kept coming and going and it was putting a strain on your relationship. You smiled into the kiss as you felt her hold you as close as possible, not wanting to let you go.

"I'll take that as a yes," you laughed as you pulled away from her.

"You can take that as an 'I'll try'. For you. For her," her eyes glanced towards America who was currently freaking out over Kamala's powers.

She still missed her children. Billy and Tommy. She would miss them until her final days. But you and America had given her another chance at being a mother, and she was going to try her hardest to make things right. Having a family with you was a dream come true.

"I love you, Wanda," you said, taking one of her hands off of your waist to bring it towards your face. You placed a soft kiss upon her fingers, "All of you."

Wanda's breath hitched, "I-I love you too, detka. Always," she managed to breath out before a flood of tears followed after. The two of your quickly connected again with a much needed kiss.

You couldn't wait to wake up next to this woman in the morning.

A certain multiverse-travelling girl looked at her two parents from afar with love and happiness in her eyes. Perhaps Wanda would learn to forgive herself. Eventually.

Thanks for reading! ( Also available on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40517796 )

I don’t know if I will make another follow up part where Wanda is learning how to be a mother again to America? I kinda need some fluffy domestic Y/N x Wanda stuff so maybe....

(So I made a follow up part... Chapter 2)

[seriously-really-soft]

“What made me so easy to throw away?”

Warnings: abuse, abusive family situation, trauma tw, parental abuse, mentions of sorrow and grief

a/n: this is a question that plays through my head and bares a big burden to me especially when i’m feeling down or overthinking. i feel like it’s hard for me to articulate the amount of thought and grief that goes into that one question, it’s like a horribly jumbled and knotted mess of different colored threads in my head, so I hope i could do a good job of conveying the different layers to it here

Toji

When he hears this from you, he doesn’t waste another second to tell you that you’re irreplaceable. You never deserved to be treated as if your life didn’t mean anything. You are NOT something to just be thrown away or used for the fulfillment of other people. You are a whole person with your own feelings and experiences, you’re worth so much and your shitty parents’s shitty treatment of you does not take away from your immeasurable value as a person. He tells you all of this and he says it with his whole chest. You??? The amazing person whose existence is like the birth of a new star??? Being treated like garbage and being made to believe that your existence means so little that you’re just meant to die out, away and unloved??? It disgusts him to the core.

He understands that sometimes it’s not that you don’t know that the abuse wasn’t a result of your faults, it’s just that it’s hard to convince yourself when so much of your life has told you otherwise. It can get especially hard to not believe what abusive parents have been drilling into your head when you’re feeling especially sad or down; it’s like all the different things you’re sad or worried about bear their full weight on you and it can make you feel so overwhelmed you don’t know what to do with yourself - don’t know where to put your hands, what to say, how to breathe. Toji understands and he lets you know that it’s okay to not know all the answers, it’s okay to feel so conflicted over these things, and that you don’t have to bare it all in your body alone. When you need someone to guide you home, he’ll be there to be your hands and to be your eyes and bring you home. You don’t know what to say? It’s okay, you don’t have to explain or convince him that what you experienced really happened, it’s enough that you’re hurting right now and you deserve to have the space to be sad and to be held through it. Toji tells you there can be explanations but never any justifications for what was done to you

Choso

You have brought so much life and color to his world it amazes him every day. You know how they say the world becomes more vibrant when you’re in love? Yeah, all the details in experiencing you are precious to him, from the way water collects and falls off you on a rainy day to the way you smile to yourself when you feel content. So it makes him especially solemn to think that you must’ve experienced things so painful, a world so loveless, to struggle so much to see the good in you. He never shuts up about how much you deserve better and how you attract so much warmth and goodness towards you. You are surrounded by people who genuinely love you now and who are worthy of you.

From the way he holds you and speaks to you, he tells you you could never be thrown away, that you’re not some dumpster for somebody’s wrath and mess of a life. How dare anyone treat you with so little regard?!? He showers you in gentle gestures and soft touches, especially when you’re having days like this, where you feel so alien in whatever group you’re in, like there’s no place for you in the world. He understands that it’s hard to see how significant of a space you take up in not only his life but in the lives of other people around you. Your smiles and words can mean so much more than you may realize. Even simple things like interactions at the grocery store or with your neighbors can be so precious, and you deserve to know and celebrate how lovable you are in every sense, in every moment.

[wtfobiwan]

why are all these people acting like sebastian is a perfect person who can do wrong? at this point i don’t even care what the man is doing… it’s his ride or die fans who are the problem here. they put him on a pedestal and can’t see the forest for the trees. newsflash: sometimes your faves fuck up! you don’t have to make excuses for them to make the situation seem better than it is so your conscience can be clean.

and speaking of making a situation seem better, let’s stop pretending that pam deserves what she got because she signed the rights to the tape away or whatever rationale you guys can come up with to make this trashy tv show seem okay. even if pam was a terrible person, she doesn’t deserve to have her privacy violated or to have to relive her trauma. she’s already been through hell… just say y’all don’t care about her and only care about sebastian looking hot or whatever, at least that’d be closer to the truth.

anyway, good luck with your other messages! his stans are being particularly rude today. i seriously do not understand the parasocial relationships these people have this man… he doesn’t even know you idiots lol.

Exactly!! Sebastian's fans are obsessed with him to the point that dismiss every shitty thing he does. Celebrities aren't exempt from making horrible choices and ignoring them gives them more reason to think it's acceptable when it's not. The whole point of my post, which I should've clarified more, is that he crossed a line by watching the sex tape. It doesn't matter if it's on the internet, he still crossed a major fucking line and I can't support him anymore. What he did was fucked up

It's mindblowing to me that people think that Pam deserved this. The tape was stolen and it ruined her life. People hated her for the same reason that they loved Tommy for.

Thank you, Anon! Honestly, I can take a few angry people. The parasocial relationships give fans a sense of belonging and give them the audacity to try and defend someone who doesn't even know they exist.

[starcloud-nova]

Favorite fics by some of your buddies on Tumblr and Discord?

God nonnie. You fucked up big time. You underestimated just how hard I can appreciate my friends. I’d like to formally apologize for how long and in-depth this got, but I would pick a stopping point and then go ‘oh! but i cant leave out so-and-so’ and then this got mega out of hand.

Organized by author and not genre! And if I didn’t include any of your works (or I did and it was not the one you wanted), please, don’t take it personally. I am trusting everyone who comes across this post to read the tags themselves, but for two of the fics I have left TWs in front of them.

Cassia’s fics:

Internet Enemies by @cassiopeia721 (x)

At school, Midoriya Izuku is ignored at best. At home, he's raised by a single mother who seems to be always taking night shifts, and who he communicates with almost exclusively through notes on lunch boxes and texts lying about his location. As such, Midoriya Izuku turns to the internet— or more specifically, an All Might fan server on discord— for companionship. Like most things in his life, it goes wrong eventually. It just takes longer than usual.

hypnic jump

Izuku finds himself somewhere he doesn't recognize in an oversized green jumpsuit with a hero he's never seen at his back. He's pretty sure he's dreaming, and subsequent events only solidify that theory into rock-solid certainty.

Paradigm Shift (Harry Potter)

Harry undergoes a paradigm shift at the beginning of his fifth year. (Slytherin Harry)

~~~

Kestrel’s fics:

Compass by @autisticmidoriyas (x)

Midoriya Izuku never had the chance to become a hero—or even to grow up. Fifteen years after his death, Akatani Izuku tries to save the life of a dying hero and in return receives a target painted on his back and a power humming in his bones.

All Might, Sir Nighteye, Ground Zero, Suneater, and Skyquake are left scrambling in the wake of Lemillion’s death to figure out who now holds One For All.

Intertwined with all this, the League of Villains’ war against Japan burns on. With the loss of Lemillion, the advantage is now theirs, and with the loss of One For All, victory is all-but-assured.

(What the villains don’t know is that One For All lives on in the blood of a boy who was always meant to be a hero.)

triskelion

A few seconds, and their lives—their life—is changed forever. Where three people used to exist, there is now only one.

While visiting the mall with their class, Izuku, Katsuki, and Shouto are the victims of someone whose quirk can fuse together objects … and people.

Permanently.

Facing down the fact that they may never be unfused, a long adjustment period lies ahead of them as they learn how to be themself and figure out where they fit into their families, their class, and their world.

the meaning of hope

One day, the smoke will reach its end. They hold out hope for that. Even with quirks, fires cannot burn forever. They will consume all their fuel, until there is nothing left, and they will wither and die.

~~~

Lilly’s fics:

Rise of the Rat Finks by Authoress_Lilly

“You're not in trouble Neito. You’ve been tapped to join The Rats.”

The boy blinks. “The what?”

Vlad opens up a folder and hands Monoma a flyer and a small pin in the shape of a rat. “It’s a sort of secret society here at UA.

Or: an excuse to put Monoma and Midoriya together in way too many words 😅

The Root to Villainy

Prompt: Izuku doesn't realize how fucked up his past was until Aizawa does an immersive class on villain origins.

Whoops?

~~~

Dance’s fics:

Never Take Your Problem Children To Costco by DanceInTheKitchen

“SECURE THE EGGS! I REPEAT SECURE THE EGGS!” Bakugou bellowed.

“YES SIR! AYE AYE SIR!” Izuku saluted.

Shouta is staring at his students, one of whom seems to be reenacting the Lion King with a carton of eggs while the other salutes him, and wonders. What the hell did he do in his past life to deserve this?? Past him must have committed some great sin, like putting sugar in his coffee, or being a dog person.

 Or, Aizawa, Bakugou and Midoriya walk into a Costco.

grow as we go

The dorms were silent, but out here in the open air, she felt both isolated and free. Isolated from the world, but free from the responsibility crushing her, isolated from her friends and family, but free from judgement. Up here, with only the stars and Iida as company, Momo felt like she could breathe.

They sat next to each other in silence, watching the stars silently crawl their way across the sky. Iida doesn’t break the silence, but he also doesn’t leave. It’s a silent promise, to listen if she needs it, or to keep her company if she doesn’t want to speak. It’s comforting.

She’s not sure when she speaks, it’s somewhere between staring up at the stars, and looking at the shiny dew covering the grass of the hills behind UA.

“I’m not ready.”

 Or, with graduation right around the corner, Momo has a conversation with Iida about what growing up means.

~~~

Azure’s fics:

A Helping Hand for All by azureskyy

Izuku doesn't know why everyone's talking about a certain hero analyst online. He's tried browsing through the forums and other sites, but he just can't find the person they're talking about.

Maybe he'll ask them later. For now, he has some analysis to do.

Or: Izuku is a well-known hero and quirk analyst across multiple social media platforms.

Not that he's aware of it, of course.

A Missed Chance

Two paths cross then diverge. In another universe, perhaps, they could have walked on the same path; they could have talked for the second time that day, and Izuku could have been given an opportunity that could change his entire life. And maybe, just maybe, he would have taken it.

But this isn’t that universe.

Or: What if All Might wasn't able to find Izuku after the Sludge Villain Incident?

~~~

Alice’s fics:

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by @makeitbluue (x)

“Did you think you’d be safe from me forever? That you could chip away at my power base and I would not care or try to hunt you down?” The man asks as he steps forwards.

Izuku scrambles backwards in his bed, searching the covers as he goes for his phone. If he can get a text off to All Might or Aizawa-sensei he can alert people to the potential danger.

But even as he moves, something in the back of his mind tells him he had heard this voice before. A different time, a different context, but the same voice.

~~~

Ely’s fics:

bend and break by @queenangst (x)

In a world where you can feel your soulmate's pain, Eijirou spends a lot of his life up until meeting his soulmate hurting.

draw and quarter

In District Twelve, no one volunteers.

When Aizawa Shouta’s name is called, no one says a word. He stands there for a moment, feeling all the world slow around him, and then he straightens his shoulders and walks to his death.

He will die fighting. At the very least, Shouta can promise that.

Shouta's name is drawn for the Hunger Games, alongside Shirakumo Oboro. No one from their district has ever won.

damage control

After All for One's defeat, Aizawa Shouta is grasping for ways to protect his students. At the same time, a discrepancy in Midoriya's behavior leads Shouta down a dangerous line of investigation and to a single question: if Midoriya is the U.A. traitor.

Between the Wind and the Water

Staying at U.A. for winter break, Izuku hopes it'll be a quiet chance to spend the holidays with Todoroki and supervising teachers All Might and Aizawa-sensei.

It's just his luck a gift-shopping trip turns into a gift from a villain, and Izuku's new Half-Cold, Half-Hot Quirk is not so easy to control. Neither are the secrets he's been carefully keeping.

a glimpse of tomorrow (looking back)

Subject: Aldera Time Capsule Ceremony Forwarded Message— This year marks ten years for the Aldera Middle School graduating class of 20XX.To celebrate, we would like to invite pro heroes Kingpin and Deku, Aldera alumni, to participate in a public time-capsule opening. We are incredibly proud to have helped them on their journeys to becoming heroes, and would be most honored to receive them as guests and for them to speak at the ceremony. [...]

"Well," Deku says, leaning over to turn the monitor towards him. His eyes flick over the contents of the email one more time. "If they haven't changed, then I guess we could return the favor."

Ten years down the line, Bakugou and Midoriya are invited to a time capsule ceremony at their middle school to read letters from their past selves, and look back on their past and how it shaped their future. For anyone else, it would have been a celebration.

For the two of them, it's an opportunity.

A look into Bakugou and Midoriya's past—through a future neither of them imagined—as pro heroes, agency partners, and friends.

of the mighty heart

It was just complicated. Kacchan had changed. Izuku had changed. What was between them was constant—Kacchan was always there—but even constants, Izuku supposed, could change, too.

...You saved me, sometimes you say Deku and it doesn’t sound so much like an insult, you say it like you mean it, you say it like you mean me.

After the war ends and the dust settles, Izuku is left in pain and feeling useless. There's still so much to do and people to save, and it's just... too much for one person.

And then there's Kacchan.

~~~

Fawn’s fics:

Bough Breaks by @fawnvelveteen (x) (trigger warning for discussion of rape/noncon)

In life, nothing is certain. Pro-heroes aren’t always the good guys. Children are not spared from the darkest realms of humanity. Izuku isn't acting like his normal self at school lately, and his homeroom teacher has taken notice. After learning about the mother’s new, unwelcomed boyfriend, Aizawa’s concern shifts into dread. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep his student away from harm.

Almost Moon (trigger warning for suicide) (Black Clover)

It was always at night. One of Noelle's squadmates, apparently, believes it's a good idea to walk across the rooftop, directly over her head while she is trying to get some sleep. Finally, she decides to confront the nighttime nuisance. What she discovers is something she never expected, nor did she wish to see.

~~~

Nez’s fics:

The True Successor by @neko-nez (x)

Toshinori is caught in a time loop.

~~~

Aodh’s fics:

new game + (the pros of being over-leveled, the catharsis of finally beating That One Boss, and a bonus social link) by @takeyamayuu (x)

Izuku hasn’t been noticed yet, being as far from the fight as he is. Or if he has, they’re dismissing him in favor of the larger threat of Aizawa-sensei. As they should, since he takes out the last one with a well placed kick, turning to face Shigaraki,

Izuku tenses, this is-

This is where his teacher’s arm is injured and then-

The Nomu.

One for All spikes to around fifty percent, his muscles stinging, bones creaking as Izuku darts forward, aiming for Shigaraki’s head with an axe-kick.

Second year Midoriya Izuku gets hit with a Quirk, skids into the USJ, and learns a little about self-care along the way.

~~~

Ghost’s fics:

fingerpaint bruises and a kick in the teeth by @ghoststrawberries (x)

There’s a sour taste in Shouta’s mouth as he stares at Jackrabbit’s bright smile. The smile he’s wearing in every clear photo of him. It somewhat reminds Shouta of All Might’s smile.

Jackrabbit might be a menace to the Commission, but there’s no way Shouta can believe that a man with that smile is anything less than good to his core.

“And I’m your last resort to handle this quietly.” He says knowingly, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“Precisely.”

Shouta’s gut response is to refuse.

The words “I don’t kill.” are halfway up his throat before they become stuck.

As an underground hero, sometimes Shouta Aizawa is called upon to do darker jobs than one might expect a hero to have to do. This time, when he's tasked with taking out a vigilante who's managed to bother the Hero Public Safety Commission one too many times, he's not sure he'll be able to follow through.

~~~

Amira’s fics:

And Now I See Daylight by @awake-my-oceans (x)

AnalysisOverload Current mood: HERO CON HERO CON HERO CON HERO CON

AnalysisOverload reblogged AnalysisOverload  Okay, let’s talk HeroCon. 

Look around, and you’ll see a lot of discrimination—against people whose Quirk is debilitating, against people whose Quirks scare us, against people who have trouble controlling their Quirk, against people who don’t have a Quirk at all. It’s easy to feel alone in a sea of discrimination.

Enter HeroCon:X.

A social media fic following Deku post-graduation.

The chaotic neutral’s guide to time travel

“You claim you are from the future,” Nedzu said, hopping onto his desk. “Do you have anything to prove this?”

Hitoshi fished around in his pocket. “Here’s my hero license,” he said, holding it up.

Nedzu opened his mouth, but Hitoshi kept right on going, producing a handful of odds and ends from his pocket. “Also a movie ticket, some dryer lint, some, uh, didn’t know I still had that but it’s old gum—“

That was when Aizawa walked in, capture weapon floating around him. “What’s the emergency?” he asked, clipped, as he kicked open the door.

“—and the left arm of a Deku plushie,” Hitoshi finished, unruffled. “My cat ate the rest.”

~~~

Aaaaaand that’s all I got. Thanks for making it to the end!

[burnedbyshoto]

a brush of luck

— In a world where soulmates exist you can communicate yours with a brush of a pen. It just doesn’t help that you are a certified idiot with a skill in misplacing things. —

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pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff, angst, soulmate!au, cursing

word count: 4,229

a/n: this is for the bnaharem collab and I was super horrible and was not ready and i just woke up and threw this together please dont hate me uhuhuhuhhh see the masterlist here!!!

message to join my tag list!

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“Hey, y/l/n, you forget this!”

Your hair was falling into your face, your face flustered, and your binders filled with paper seemed to be liquid as they slowly fell to the ground.

Kaminari stood behind you when you turned around. His lips were picked into a kind smile. It was a teasing one too by the small glint in his eyes while he held onto your backpack and phone. A look of self-realized stupidity washed over your face when your head threw back into a groan. How stupid were you, really?

“I’m so sorry!” you exclaimed, throwing your things onto the nearest desk. You felt the tips of your ears burn with embarrassment when Kaminari helped you slip on your backpack and pocketed your phone in the jacket pocket. “I swear I’m the most forgetful person in the world.”

“Well, you do really clinch the title of the person who would forget their head if it wasn’t on their shoulders.”

Snorting, you shoved him with your shoulder, and he helped you regather your things with a low groan.

“Let’s see the tattoo,” you grin, ready to head out once again. Groaning loudly, Kaminari didn’t seem to want to give in to your demand, but still, with a twitch of his eye and a shove of his sleeve, he showed off his arm. “You know what, I’m going to say it—”

“I’m going to say it, I don’t care that you broke your elbows,” Kaminari finishes the phrase with you with a snort.

“Do you think it’s the first thing out of their mouth or matching tattoo?” you asked curiously when you blond best friend also prepped to leave the classroom for the day. 

“I hope its the first thing out of their mouth, imagine how fucking ultra sexy foxy hot that would be,” Kaminari moaned, his eyes rolling to the back of his eyes at the thought. Gagging at the visual horniness of that thought, you walked away, grinning at the way that Kaminari stumbled over his feet to catch up with you.

This was the world you lived in, the world of soulmates.

You weren’t sure when they had first started, but you know that it wasn’t always a phenomenon that was around. When you roamed the internet looking at old, old stories on soulmates, these theories, these worlds were built on one single concept.

They wrote about a world of black and white for everyone until that fateful moment, or matching tattoos for everyone. But no, this world was much more complicated, much more detailed. Yes, in the world there were a lot of theories that ended up being true, but the thing they didn’t see coming was that every couple — every polyamorous relationship consisted of a unique theme.

Kaminari’s soulmate was linked with tattoo’s, and the purpose behind said symbol was unknown, unheard of until he met them. Yours, as you could guess and know, was also different. Pressing your fingers against the pen that sat on the inside pocket of your uniform jacket, you smiled when Kaminari’s arm was thrown around you.

“At least you’ve never lost or forgotten that pen of yours, that would be dangerous!”

“I promise I will never ever forget it.”

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You sat on your bed nearing midnight. You were cocooned into your blankets flipping through your Hero Lawbook that you were supposed to have read months ago, but now finally was. Humming to yourself, you read through the apparent laws and the not so evident laws.

For instance, there is a law that Pro Heroes are not allowed to eat off the edge of buildings anymore! American transfer students had littered so much it became a law!

Snorting to yourself, you flipped the page.

But something warm pressed into your forearm, the most heated energy that sent shivers down your spine. It was comforting as it was ethereal. The second your body recognized the feeling, the Hero Lawbook went soaring across the room, and you grabbed your pen that was waiting at your side for ages now. 

Hi, sorry I’m just able to get back to you. I had a bunch of homework and friends who just let me leave them.

Smiling to yourself, you twirled the pen in your fingers and scribbled down your response:

It’s all good, I’ve been studying this entire time too, was just bored and didn’t respond to you earlier today!

Your soulmate theme was straightforward and quite comprehensive — it was dubbed the Forearm and Pen theme (you hated that theme). You could communicate with your soulmate by writing with the pen on your arm, but it only worked with that pen, nothing else.

The year you were to turn sixteen, you received a pen from literally out of the blue. You remember celebrating New Year with your class in your first year at U.A.; it had been an enjoyable night! Everything in life was still going fantastic, and your class was finally past the excellent friend’s point and felt like a genuine family. You remember hugging and telling everyone good night, still being fifteen at that point, and stumbling back to your room exhausted.

When you had gotten back to your room, you didn’t even undress; simply tugging off your pants and removing your bra, you threw yourself onto the bed. But you had landed on something stiff and painful, groaning your hands shuffled for whatever it was that you fell on, and when you grabbed it, you froze at the sight of the white box. 

Was this a gift?

Your entire life, you had always wondered if you did have a soulmate, most people you knew after all had soulmate markers that appeared since birth. But you were perfectly normal. You saw all colors; you had no shared pain; there was no tattoo, no mind link, no dream meetings.

Nothing.

You were normal.

Sighing, you opened the box, hoping that it was from someone you at the very least respected.

Inside was a silver pen.

You blinked your eyes rapidly, unsure of what you were looking at, there were no initials, no engraving, nothing. 

It was an exquisite pen, and despite what you thought, it was very, very light. Frowning, your fingers pushed down on the pen, but there was nothing that came out, was there no ink?

Shrugging, you dragged it against your arm feeling the way that the cool tip delicately massaged your arm. It felt nice.

“Holy shit!”

Your eyes saw the pretty grey silvery ink on your forearm. It stood out against your skin, the ink appearing nowhere else but your arm, and then it hit you.

This was for your soulmate!

With excitement tearing through you, your exhaustion no longer bitting on your skull, but the overwhelming need to know that this was for your soulmate shook you awake. Twirling the pen in your fingers, you couldn’t help but start writing.

OMG HI

You sat there staring at your forearm, unsure as to what to do next. What do you do next?

Hey?

If your heart could be anywhere but your chest, you were nearly positive it existed within your throat at this very moment. This was nervewracking, holy shit.

Sorry, you don’t know me, but I’m ___ ___.

You frowned when you tried to write your name, it was stopping you.

It seems that we do have some rules to this entire thing.

They responded back to you, and as if they could hear you, you groaned loudly.

This soulmate shit was already stopping your excitement, it seemed.

From that very first night, the two of you were able to discover a few things. First off, anything too personal was not allowed to be written out. So names, location, and gender were the biggest ones. Birthdays were not, and you were quick to find out that both of you were still fifteen. Second of all, just because you couldn’t figure out where exactly you both were located, you did manage to put together that you were both in Japan. Third of all, your soulmate was a Hero in Training just like you and was a male. Last, of all, you were quick to realize that you were in love with the way your body felt like it was gently warming up whenever he messaged you.

I think I deserve a round of applause.

You grinned after writing your sentence, your eyes watching while the warmth filled your body and his writing slowly appearing on your forearm.

Did you not forget anything today? I find that hard to believe.

You had to suppress a scream.

WELL, IT HAPPENED! I GOT EVERYTHING I NEEDED TO BRING BACK TO MY ROOM WITH ME!!

Weren’t you the one who forgot to bring your entire backpack to school the other day?

NO! I said I almost did, but my bestie got it for me!

How do you forget everything? I think you should try to make a list to make sure that you always have things you need for the day.

... I do… but I always lose the list, and im always running late…

You’re the worst…

Congrats bbg, I’m your soulmate

The world really doesn’t want to bless me with a good life, it seems…

HEY, THAT’S MEAN!

The two of you banter for what seems like hours, the night sky fading from blackness to the deep blue of the sky right before the sunrise. You had spent the entire night curled into your pillow, your face shoved into the soft fabric to suppress your chortling snorts because you geniunely enjoyed interacting with your soulmate. But it was late, and you both had classes early that next morning.

Okay, asshole, I need to sleep! I got this stupid test tomorrow that I did not study for. I'll write to ya tomorrow!! Goodnight!!!

Don’t be rude to your soulmate :( but goodnight, and good luck on that test, sorry for keeping you up.

Smiling at his words, you put the pen to your forearm one last time.

I will never ever accept your apology for making me stay up, I love talking with you, goodnight soulmate, sweet dreams.

You placed the pen down, your eyes fluttering close, heavy with sleep. But still, no exhaustion could suppress the fluttering warmth in your body when words appeared on your arm. 

Sweet dreams, soulmate.

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“Fuck, sorry,” you groaned when you sleepily slammed into the person standing in front of you. 

Blinking tiredness away from your eyes — poorly at that too — you focused up at Shouto. Grinning, you waved at your classmate, who looked almost as exhausted as you felt and definitely looked.

“It’s okay,” he nodded at you stepping to the side so that the two of you could walk side to side.

“You ready for that test today?” you asked after moments of silence.

You and Todoroki Shouto were not as close as you would like to be. Since day one, you had always had a thing for the duality of a man, and while it was mostly superficial feelings derived from the fact that he was attractive above anything else, it still made you awkward around him. At the time, your feelings were still holding you down, you always fully believed that you had no soulmate, so you thought maybe you could sweep him off his feet. It was rumored that his scar covered up his own soulmate mark, so there was no way for him to know who his soulmate was.

Selfishly and embarrassingly, you hoped that you could have him.

Then you met your soulmate, and things changed.

But now you and your classmates were all eighteen and held the world in your hands, yet you couldn’t speak to him usually still.

“There’s no test today?” Shouto stilled, his eyes narrowing in confusion, and your eyes screwed too.

“Isn’t it… Friday? We have a Hero Law test?”

“Y/l/n,” Shouto snorted a grin spreading across his features, “It’s Wednesday.”

If there was a god, he would shoot you right now.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment while you walked faster to the classroom, Shouto keeping up with your pace easily, he was taller than you after all.

“Shut up,” you warned, your gaze not reaching Shouto’s who was staring at you.

“I wasn’t speaking.”

“I could hear you thinking!”

Shouto put on a smirk, his eyes teasing you, and his mouth dropping to speak, but there was a loud interruption.

“Y/L/N-CHAAAANNNNNN!!!!”

Both of you turned to see Kaminari chasing after you, his arms waving, looking out of breath.

“YOU FORGOT YOUR JACKET AND TIE!”

Shouto chuckled beside you, and you stared down to see that you were, in fact, only wearing half of your uniform. If there’s a god, he will end you now, you thought.

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You're not serious right now, are you?

Going on three years of knowing your soulmate, or at the very least talking with him, you thought you had a good understanding of who he was. He was strong, powerful, and kind. He came off a bit standoffish at times but was the dumbest person you’ve ever known. Common sense was not his friend, and that was okay. 

Even at times when the two of you had your differing opinions because it did happen, it never snowballed more into a small annoyance that the two of you would apologize for and move on. But this was something that shouldn’t have had become a fight, it shouldn’t have been anything more potent than a difference of opinion, but when you suggested entertaining the thought of when the two of you would finally meet, he was uncharacteristically cold. 

Hurt by his tone, you told him, and he said you to grow up until it became this written fight.

Why couldn’t you talk about meeting?

Why didn’t he want to think about what would happen when the two of you would meet?

It was getting ugly for no reason, a fight just to fight, and it was making you nauseous.

But he crossed a line that couldn’t be fixed when he wrote a simple sentence:

Just because you’re my soulmate doesn’t mean I have to love you, meet you, or marry you.

So there you sat, your bottom lip trembling with tears streaking down your blotchy face. He wasn’t being serious, was he? There was no way… no fucking way this was him. The warmth that flooded your body with his new message felt ice-cold, poisoning you from the inside out while you read it.

You're my soulmate, but I have no obligation to do anything with you now or ever. The world chose you for me, not me. I didn’t choose you. I don’t owe you anything here. Soulmates are bullshit and don’t fucking bother messaging me again if you expect me to fall in love with you just because our “souls are connected”

It was needless to say that you didn’t respond back, not because you felt like he should love you because of your connected souls, but because your sobbing and broken emotions left you curled into a ball, ready for a sleepless slumber to take you.

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“You don’t look too hot,” Kaminari told you, hitting you with his foot when your bleary and puffy eyes stared at your best friend.

Kirishima and Mina, who were sitting beside him, elbowed him at the same time, berating him for his insensitive comment. You could feel Sero and Bakugou staring at you, their eyes concerned and curious. 

“What’s eating ya up?” Sero asked, and you found a rock-forming in your throat when you shrugged.

“Soulmate problems…”

“That was fucking obvious,” Bakugou rolled his eyes, taking a drink of his water. “Tell us the problem, not a stupid summary.”

Surprisingly that’s all it took for you to come undone, and you explained what happened with tears falling down your face and a sniffling nose. There was a lot to tell them about it, and you showed them the pen while explaining the entire story. They listened to every word you uttered, faces concern but taking in everything you said.

“You’re an idiot,” Bakugou spoke the second you were finished, his eye twitching while he glared at you. You swallowed thickly, placing the pen on the table while Bakugou edged closer towards you. “He’s not wrong, you know, stupid fucking soulmates are just this irrational solution to an irrational problem. Love is much more complex than that, and you don’t seem to have been fighting for him in that way either, sure you seem like good friends, but that doesn’t give you the right to expect him to love you. But he was a complete fucking dick about it, so I say kill him.”

Your — and all of the rest of your friend group — eyes widened at his words. With nothing to follow him up, you all continued to stare at him while he munched on his food.

“WHAT ARE YOU FUCKING EXTRAS LOOKING AT!”

“Is Bakugou a love expert?” Mina’s stage whispered to the group.

“He almost was, but then he said to kill y/n’s soulmate, so probably not anymore,” Kirishima responded back.

“SHUT THE HELL UP BEFORE I KILL YOU!”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

It took four days before the warm feeling shot through your body again.

Fuck, I'm really sorry, I was a complete fucking dick. I said a lot of things, and i didn’t mean to say I was angry and upset, and I know that you're upset, rightfully upset, but i don’t want to lose you.

No matter how long it took for him to get back to you, your heart squeezed with euphoria and poison, your hands moving to grab your pen in your pocket.

It wasn’t there.

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

You tore apart your room, trying to find the silver pen but you couldn’t find it.

Stay as mad as you want, I just… please talk with me soon, even if it takes five days. I'm sorry, soulmate.

Frustrated tears poured down your face, nausea almost making you wheeze when you stared at the words you wanted to reply to.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

One day after he apologized:

Don’t want to bother you, just wanted to apologize again and say that I miss you, talk to you soon.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Five days after he apologized:

I’m not really sure if this is normal or not… I'm not really… educated when it comes to romance and shit like that, especially when it comes to someone being upset with the other… my female classmates told me that I should expect a response from you soon. I'm really sorry, please write soon.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

So it seems that i’ve fucked up to the point of no return. I'm sorry, I miss you, I love you. Maybe one day I can reconvince you that I'm your soulmate for a good reason, but I guess I’ll have to work on that.

It had been fourteen days since he had apologized, and you sat in your room with tears streaming down your face. You wanted to respond back, but even fourteen days of tirelessly searching U.A.’s entire campus, ripping it stone by stone, there was no finding your pen. Every day without fail, he gave you an update of his day and another apology. Every day they got more hopeless, more pained.

This was his last message for a while, he needed time to work things out with himself now, the strain of this and graduation coming soon being too much to handle at the moment. 

Wiping your tears for what felt like the hundredth time within this past twenty minutes, you stood up on your wobbly legs to go downstairs for water. You were dehydrated and absolutely needed to get out for both fresh air and water.

Walking down the stairwell with swollen eyes, you groaned when you slammed into a body when you opened the door to the common area. 

Shouto blinked down at you, and you felt your throat clampdown at the pained look in his own eyes.

“Have you been—”

“Are you—”

You both spoke over each other, and despite the horrid feeling coursing through your bones, you cracked a smile.

“I’m getting water,” you explained with a shrug. “Long night ya know, just needed to replenish my system so I can cry some more.”

Shouto stared at you, and with horror, you realized precisely what you had said.

“Oh my god, ignore me!” you squeak, covering your face trying to move past him, but Shouto seemed to be curious now and followed after you.

“What’s making you cry?” he asked while you rush to the fridge to get your glass of water.

“What’s got you upset?” you counter downing the cup of water.

Shouto sighed, leaning against the counter of the island in the kitchen. “Would it be weird to say its soulmate issues?”

Swallowing the water in your mouth, you shook your head, a tired smile on your face, “Embarrassingly enough, my issue is also with soulmate stuff.”

A joyless chuckle escaped his mouth, and Shouto’s head tilted backward. You studied his jaw and the way his body seemed tense, too tense.

“What happened?” you press gently standing next to him, shouldering him gently.

“I fucked up, and now my soulmate won’t talk with me,” he says slowly, his head nodding while he glances at you. “I guess telling your soulmate you don’t want them is a bad thing.”

You snorted, nodding your head in agreement, “It’s not just a bad thing, its a super fucked up thing.”

Shouto sighed in agreement, and there was silence when you took another drink of your water.

“I didn’t know you were in contact with your soulmate, though,” you smile wistfully, your hand twirling the cup on the counter. “How’d you meet them?”

“I actually don’t know who they are,” Shouto admitted with pursed lips, and your eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “I have that soulmate thing where you write on your arm, and they can read it.”

Showing off his arm, you glanced at the pale skin. You nodded your head when he pulled out a silver pen that looked similar to yours.

“Well,” you shrug your shoulders, motioning him to write. “I’m no expert, but let’s see if I can help you get your soulmate to forgive you.”

“T-They haven’t responded to me in two weeks…” Shouto’s voice cracks, and the number burns a hole through your stomach. “I’ve written every day, but no answer. I don’t really know what to do, and all the girls in the class don’t really know what to do. Bakugou also said to go fuck myself over it, so I don’t think I really have had any help.”

Ignoring the twisting in your stomach, you willed your weirdness away to shuffle in your seat, “Well, you haven’t asked me, asshole, come on, let’s see what I can do.”

Shouto chuckles, his head nodding, “That is true, but to be fair, you’ve been anywhere, but in the dorm these past few weeks.”

“I lost something,” you mutter embarrassed, but you shake away your problems and point at his wrist. “Write an apology.”

You watched when he wrote, the words expressing his apology and love seeping through the silvery ink on his wrist. You told him to add things to delete things, but in the end, it ended up feeling like a genuine and sincere apology. You watched his pen leave his skin and a warmth shot through your arm. 

Shivering, you looked at your arm, trying to see what your soulmate had written to you even though he said he was going to stop.

The words he wrote appeared on your skin.

Your eyes widened when you stared at Shouto, who was also staring at your arm. 

Your eyes met in an almost world-altering way. This entire time, for three whole years, the two of you had been by each other and never knew. Midnight conversations wasted through ink instead of face to face. Your heart hammered in your throat, and tears once again poured from your eyes when you both stood at full height, staring at each other.

Todoroki Shouto was your soulmate — he was yours, and you were his.

“I’m so sorry, y/n, I don’t know what happened to me. You didn’t deserve that, and fuck, I’m so sorry—”

“I lost my pen, and I couldn’t respond back, I forgave you, but I had no way of reaching back! But I was always forcing myself onto you—”

You both interrupted the other, and now you stared at each other, drinking in the presence of each other and belittling yourselves for not knowing sooner; looking at it now, it was just so obvious. You can’t help it and pull him into a hug. His strong arms wrap around you, and you can hear his hammering heart on your ear, and it fills you up with the familiar warmth when he writes you. This seemed to be a brush of luck it seems.

“Can I kiss you, soulmate.”

“Please do.”

[obiwanobi]

senator skywalker and sith senator kenobi au where anakin annoys obi-wan so much that in the end he just. fuckign rails him to shut him up. but then afterwards he’s all pliant and sleepy and beautiful, and for the first time in 30 years something in obi-wan’s cold dead heart shudders to life.

good lord I’m really, really into it.

The dynamic is so different here, because Obi-Wan is doing this ‘hidden Sith in politics’ very well, he’s charming, pleasant, pays attention to what he says in public and everyone feels heard and important when he’s here. He was even voted one of the most popular Senators among the public this year.

Senator Kenobi could declare that he’s going to nuke Coruscant in the next hour and people would probably thank him for being brave enough to announce it himself. He’s everything Sidious hoped for, and Obi-Wan thinks that it’s worth being away from real action and unable to wield his lightsaber for a few years.

But then Senator Skywalker shows up, and Obi-Wan’s nerves never truly recover. 

Skywalker is the worst. He has an extraordinary gift for making everything difficult: questioning centuries-old protocols, rallying the public (and even politicians, because they’re all as brain-dead as the people they represent) to useless and time-consuming causes like stopping slavery in the outer rim, (is there still people living in the outer rim? Gross.) trying to make revolutions and civil wars happen everywhere he goes and diverting everyone from Obi-Wan’s objective by being loud and obnoxious.

He’s a pain in the ass, and unfortunately, he notices Obi-Wan. And from this moment, where Obi-Wan allows himself to be annoyed at another senator instead of violently murdering them in cold blood like he wants to, Senator Skywalker becomes the bane of his existence. Putting himself in his way whenever he can, voting against every bill Obi-Wan promotes, arguing with him over petty details from 08:00 to 19:00 and sometimes even through the press, until he’s permanently tightly wound up and angry enough to look borderline furious any time Skywalker walks in his field of vision.

And Skywalker smiles through it all. 

Obi-Wan dreams of decapitating him. 

The day Obi-Wan finally looses his legendary patience in public and yells at Skywalker is also the day he fucks Skywalker through his desk three hours later. 

Obi-Wan throws him out of his office after five seconds of blessed silence, when Skywalker recovers enough of his wit to make a sharp comment about knowing that Obi-Wan couldn’t be as perfect as everyone said he was. 

This, (fucking him, not throwing him out) was a colossal mistake. He knows. He just... couldn’t find any other way that doesn’t include maiming him for life to make him shut the fuck up for one minute.

Skywalker takes it as an invitation to bother him in private in addition to turning into his personal nemesis in public. Anytime they’re left alone, Obi-Wan snaps at him, throws sarcastic comments after rude remarks, criticizes absolutely everything from the ugly scar on his face to his unrealisable and childlike ideas about social changes. But Skywalker doesn’t leave, and argues with him or finds it funny, and it only makes him stick around more (he is funny, in a very dark and horrifying sense of humour that absolutely no one should know Obi-Wan possesses.) 

But it’s also almost... relaxing, to be able to talk to someone without carefully choosing words beforehand. To say the most outrageous thing his mind comes up with, and only have Skywalker laugh and maybe even add a comment himself. Skywalker has his limits, obviously (Obi-Wan knows now to never approach the slave topic in a fifty lightyears radius again, and notices that he’s weirdly protective of Naboo’s Senator) but any violent argument is generally solved by fucking and then ignoring their divergence of opinion. 

They fuck when the atmosphere becomes too tense between them, they fuck when it’s convenient, they even fuck when they celebrate the departure of a hated colleague or Stewjon’s victory in whatever mid rim sport is popular these days. Sex is good, even better when they start to learn what they both like and relish the intimate noises they can draw from each other a few doors away from their colleagues.

They still hate each other. (One time a journalist asked him about his thoughts about Skywalker’s reelection as Tatooine’s Senator, and Obi-Wan said “I think he’s the senator Tatooine deserves”. Later that day, Skywalker commed him. “You’re really good at shitting on me and my planet without anyone noticing, hm.” He knew he was smiling, so Obi-Wan smiled too and told him to be in his office without his pants on in half an hour if he wanted to complain about it.)

They still don’t get along. (”They’re children, Kenobi, you’ll have to be extra nice in front of the cameras and not look like you’d rather have a vasectomy than spend one more minute listening to their incomprehensible babbles and being touched by their dirty little hands,” Skywalker once said while readjusting Obi-Wan’s collar. “You know I hate doing that.” “Yes, but you’re also very good at pretending to have human feelings.” “I know, it’s a curse.” Skywalker half-laughed, half-kissed him. He didn’t hate it.) 

Obi-Wan still throws him out of his office or apartment after he’s done with him. (Except that one time Skywalker fell asleep in his bed because he had an exhausting day and still came to Obi-Wan’s apartment. And this one time he blinked slowly at him right after sex, all warm and soft and content and said “This is the only time my brain can shut down and I’m finally free.” And also the time Skywalker came back from his horrible two-month-long diplomatic mission that almost killed him and spent two days on his couch, refusing to talk but leaning in when Obi-Wan’s hand stroked his head.) 

(It means nothing.)

But then Skywalker makes the mistake of being jealous.

Obi-Wan has never really cared about...Well, anyone, really, so when he fucks (gently, slowly, with soothing words, Force, this is all so boring) the pretty niece of a King to make her change her uncle’s mind about taxes on hyperspace lane routes in his sector, he doesn’t think about it much.

Until Skywalker barges in his office yelling. It’s different from their usual banters and fights. For once, Obi-Wan is more confused than irritated because Skywalker isn’t making any sense (less than usual anyway) and keeps talking about Obi-Wan being the worst (nothing new here) and when he finally understands that it’s about... Phimla? Phila? Whatever the name of the girl was, he can’t help but be annoyed.  

“Oh, please don’t tell me that you’re a romantic.”

He’s waiting for more yelling, but nothing comes. Skywalker just stands here, looking at him like he barely recognises him, with an expression Obi-Wan can’t completely read. It’s a long silence, almost an uncomfortable one because nothing should be so still around Skywalker who’s always on the move. It doesn’t feel right, not knowing what to say to him, how to make him react, understand what’s happening. 

It takes a long, long time to realise that Skywalker is holding back tears.

Obi-Wan can’t deal with crying people. That’s the only reason he hates seeing Skywalker’s trembling hands running through his hair. 

“I can’t believe I thought you could— Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Of course you can’t understand normal emotions, it would make you human and we both know you can’t even be in the same sector as human or else you implode.” 

"Skywalker—”

“Fuck you, Obi-Wan.”

He leaves. He has never called him Obi-Wan before.

Obi-Wan doesn’t see him for weeks. Not in the corridors of the Senate, not at cocktail parties, not in meetings. No one challenges him when he speaks in public now, no one makes a sarcastic comment about his flowery turns of phrases or pushes him in an empty room for a blowjob right before an important conference to throw him off.

It’s boring. 

It doesn’t help that people have been acting weirdly lately.

“Should I book two tickets?” His assistant asks him when he tells her to get him transport to Stewjon for a weekend. “No, why would I need two tickets?” She sends him an unimpressed look.

Despite his best efforts to be polite and courteous, Senator Amidala refuses to speak directly to him. 

Even Sidious makes a comment. “You’ve been distracted lately.” Obi-Wan doesn’t know how to answer to that. It’s best to say nothing. “I have something to cheer you up, you’ll like it. I think it’s time we get rid of a... troublesome Senator.”

Obi-Wan thinks he’s having one of these unpleasant feelings he despises. 

[vansmaybeonthewall]

Mission Gone...Wrong?

welcome one and all to the entry for @moonlit-imagines​ Writing Challenge. Y’all should check her out, 5 star fics. it’s like a wonderland over there, you’ll love it

Edit: i love @moonlit-imagines​, truly the best. she gave me an extension for this and i just love her😩😂 . 

Warnings: 

Masterlist

79. “I literally don’t think I could live without you.”

106. “Are you kidding me? You’re beautiful.”

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“Nope. No. No way. Not in my life. Never.”

“Y/N, it’s just a dress.”

“You take that back Cere,” she gasped, “that thing is a monster. It’s huge, poofy, and it doesn’t have any pockets! It’s pink for crying out loud, it’s disgusting! Bleh!”

“Well I think it’s beautiful. Besides, we need you for this mission. Cal can’t show up at this gala alone.”

“Then Merrin should go. A Jedi Knight and a Nightsister are better than a Jedi Knight and an ex-Padawan.”

“Merrin would be easily set apart from the others. It’s rare to find a Nightsister off of their home planet. And Y/N, being an ex-Padawan doesn’t make any difference. You’re just as strong and brave as Cal is.”

“I beg to differ, but I’ll take the compliment.”

Cere was going to try and convince Y/N more when Cal and Greez entered the Mantis. But when the duo made eye contact with the dress, there was nothing but full blown laughter. Smart remarks and comments were shared between them, leaving Cere to stare at them unimpressed and Y/N to hate the dress even more. She snatched the dress out of Cere’s arms, grumbling about how stupid it was, and stomped back to her room. 

“This day can’t get any worse, can it?” Cere said to herself.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a few hours, Y/N hiding in her room until Cere reminded her she needed to be ready for the gala. Cere had dropped off the extra accessories for Y//N’s outfit and helped with the process. She left Y/N looking beautiful, but Y/N thought otherwise.

Pink? Disgusting. Poofy? Uncomfortable. Satin gloves? Unnecessary. 

Y/N walked, more like shuffled due to the heels, towards the mirror and found someone else looking at her. She wasn’t used to these big dresses or the fancy hairstyles or the makeup that made her look oh so elegant. She knew her Master went on missions like these alone because she was younger and new to the danger of the enemy. These missions were deemed too dangerous for her. It was for the best, as her Master came back with at least a few scratches. The Padawan was hardly introduced to the true danger of the Separatists due to her shyness and fear. Y/N didn’t have the chance to grow out of it due to Order 66 being executed. Her fears worsened and darkness clouded around her when her Master was killed. But that’s a story for another time...

The sound of knocking on her door drew Y/N out of her trance. She looked up right as the door hissed and opened. Cal walked in fiddling with his tie, looking for a problem that didn’t exist. 

“Hey Y/N, Cere wanted me to tell you we’re 10 minutes away. And I figured you could help me with uhh...”

He looked up at Y/N and froze. He was speechless. She looked...perfect. Even though she didn’t like it, pink seemed to be her colour. She...

“...al? Cal? Is there something you needed?”

“Huh? Oh, uh yeah! There’s something wrong with my tie, it won’t tie right.”

“Really? Something’s wrong with the tie?” She smirked slowly walking towards him, “ I just think you don’t know how to tie a tie.”

She took over for Cal, leaving them in silence. He gazed down at her, the love clear in his eyes. 

“Are you okay? You keep staring at me?”

“What? No, no! It’s just um-”

“It’s the dress isn’t it? I knew it looked ridiculous. It’s huge, like, who needs this big of a dress?! And the heels, oh my god, why do people need their feet at an angle! It doesn’t make any sense! Especially the-”

“Are you kidding me? You’re beautiful.” 

He interrupted her rant, causing her to go silent with mouth wide open.

“I know that you think it’s a horrible colour and I know you think that the fanciness of it all is annoying, but I think you look perfect. You always have been. Even when your hair is wild and dirt smudged all over your face. You’re perfect Y/N.”

She smiled, leaning up to give him a kiss.

“Oh how I hate that you always have something to say. I love you too Kestis.”

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“We’re looking for who again?”

“A Twi’lek and a Force user, information says they may know about the project the Empire is working on. We find them and somehow make them tell us everything.”

“And what’s your plan for somehow making them tell us everything Kestis. Not a very solid plan.”

“Well, I was thinking-”

“That’s never good.”

“As I was saying, Y/N. We could walk in together and then split ways after a few minutes. I’ll find the Twi’lek and you find the Force user.”

“Woah woah woah, we’re splitting up? And I thought you loved me. This Force user better be a girl Kestis. A female, a woman or I am going to beat your ass.”

“Okay okay, no need to get violent.”

The gala was extravagant, the definitions of elegance, grace, and beauty walking in with their dates. The smell of alcohol and laughter echoed in the castle.

“Look, Twi’lek at the bar. Go woo her Kestis, leave me behind to suffer alone.”

Cal chuckled and left her with a kiss. But she wasn’t left alone for long. A boy her age, maybe a year older approached from behind. 

“You look a little lost darling.”

Y/N turned swiftly letting out a sharp gasp, “Oh! You scared me.”

“No worries. But it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, I am Nolan. Who might you be?”

“Ami-Dala, but most call me Ami.” Really Y/N? He’s going to notice.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful person. Where are you from darling?”

This is your chance Y/N, see if he knows the Twi’lek.

“I was born on Ryloth. My parents loved the people. When the time came, they started to convince the people the Republic were made of horrible people.”

“Ryloth? A great friend I know is from Ryloth. We are part of a big project for the Empire. We hope to wipe out those who still believe in the Republic. Those Rebels won’t stand a chance.”

“Wonderful! When the Rebels are destroyed, the Empire can finally have the power it deserves.”

“I knew I liked you Ami-Dala Why don’t we get a drink?”

“Umm, I don’t think-”

“Come on darling, it’s a party!”

The world started to get fuzzy after a few drinks. Stars seemed to float in her vision. Arms and legs felt numb. A voice startled Y/N from her day dream. 

“Are you alright darling?”

“Yeah, just fine,” Y/N slurred. 

“You don’t look so good Ami, why don’t we find somewhere quiet?”

Y/N could only nod. She couldn’t think straight.

“You know, Ami, it was great meeting you. But I think it would’ve been better if you weren’t a Jedi sympathizer, Y/N.”

Uh oh

Y/N tried to stop walking, but it only turned to her being dragged.

“Oh don’t stop the act now Y/N, you were doing so well! You even had Xi’ra fooled with your buddy Cal Kestis. But now that we have two Force users, our project can continue. Thank you Y/N, truly.”

“I would say otherwise.”

Cal, in all his glory, crashed Nolan’s celebration with lightsaber ignited. 

“Well well, the Jedi does what he’s good at, ruining the fun.”

“Oh, so this is where the fun begins?”

Y/N was thrown behind Nolan, fighting the sleep that was beckoning her. But she wasn’t going down just yet. 

 Red and orange blades clashed together. The light against the dark. It was only a matter of time before one lost their epic battle. 

“Why can’t you see that the Empire is doing the right thing?”

“I am not blinded by hatred like you are and I never will be.”

“But you will be. You haven’t even noticed your little girlfriend suffering from the poison I’ve slipped her.”

The cocky attitude was replaced with fear and concern for Y/N’s life. Anger was brewing. 

“Now you feel it, the power. Just imagine what you could do if you join us, if you join me.”

“Then keep dreaming you bantha fodder.” Y/N shot her blaster, hitting Nolan in the chest before promptly passing out. 

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“She’ll be fine Cal. Now stop your worrying and make sure she gets something to eat after she wakes.”

Cere left the room, leaving Cal to worry even more.

“What am I going to do with you Y/N?”

“I can think of a few things. Wink wink.”

“Jesus Y/N! You couldn’t wake up normally?”

“I could have, but that’s not very Y/N.” She opened her eyes and slowly sat up. 

“Why did you do it?”

“Scare you? Your screams just warm my soul.”

“No, why did you risk shooting him? He could have deflected it if he wasn’t so surprised that you were still alive. It was dangerous Y/N, you could have-”

“I could have, yet I didn’t. But at the end of the day I would have helped the Rebellion gain vital information.”

“How is it worth it when I lose you?”

“You have to understand-”

“No, you have to understand. Y/N, I literally don’t think I could live without you. Yes, you somehow find a way out, but what happens when you don’t?”

Silence. Tears had welled up in her eyes when she realized what she put Cal through. Those risky moments where she didn’t really know if she could make it back. The fear she felt underneath the adrenaline. 

“I love you Y/N, but please be careful.”

“I love you too Kestis.”

They met in an embrace, holding each other as if it was the last time they would. They stood there in silence until Cal had a pressing question. 

“Are you ever going to call me by my first name?”

“And why would I do that Cal Kestis?”

“Close enough.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------P.S. check out @moonlit-imagines​  😉

[beautifulterriblequeen]

Do you find Moonshadow culture becoming a little less... likeable? (but not less interesting) It seems like they hand out Ghostings like candy with no path to forgiveness and no belief in a person’s ability to change and reform themselves. The pressure and anxiety those elves must be feeling at all times has got to astronomical. What are your thoughts?

I have plenty of thoughts, as always! Less likeable than what, though, anon? Maybe you’ve missed most of my posts on Moonshadow society over the last year...

Moonshadow society is a disaster, poor thing. It’s a tightlaced corset, pretty but restrictive with long term consequences. It’s a queer neurodivergent elf who just wants to do their very best but all the rules that are supposed to help them out with that end up hurting them too and they don’t know how to stop or change and so yes they’re dancing gracefully in the moonlight and yes they express themselves through beauty but if you get close enough you can hear the constant pterodactyl screech of their soul too. (Did I extrapolate extra hard from “Runaan is the most Moonshadow of the Moonshadow elves”, maybe yes)

Moonshadow society is deeply flawed and it needs help, but it’s so big and pervasive that it may be impossible to change its course without severe consequences, just like last time (aka moving east across the border and becoming assassins that took out humans). The elves can only do so much to alter their own fates from inside their own society.

Some may leave and never return. Some get ghosted and want nothing more than to re-enter the fold because they still believe in its ideals, like Feathershawl. Some probably try to change things from the inside, whether subtly or obviously. And others embrace the rules with both arms and try to mold themselves into The Perfect Moonshadow Who Can Do No Wrong, in order to remain safe and to belong.

But that’s a spectrum you’re going to get when perfectionism is a big part of your cultural philosophy. Everything has to be Just So for so many aspects of these elves’ lives, and it’s Very Not Good for them. Yes, they’re pretty. But mandating prettiness is just as bad as mandating other aspects of personal choice and free will.

As for ghosting, I really don’t think Moonshadows just yeet those left and right with little care for the consequences. I do think they’re too harsh with their shunning! Shunning, giving up, turning their back in a relatively permanent way, that’s not a good solution. Learning and adapting are important, and knowing that you have time and room to practice and adjust is so important for mental health and stability in your society. Living in constant fear of minding the rules or getting even perceived to be doing something incorrectly is such a drain on your energy.

But I do think that the Moonshadows have strict rules for what deserves ghosting and what doesn’t, just as they do for other stuff. The details of Feathershawl’s ghosting are theirs to keep, and I assume any Narrator could flesh those out however they chose during a playtest, whether to make their situation more or less sympathetic for the players.

But my take is this: Moonshadow elves revere life very deeply, and they work constantly to serve each other and their whole community, as they hold themselves together and celebrate their continued existence on every level they can. When someone in a position of big responsibility for the health, well-being, and lives of so many Moonshadow citizens messes up in such a bad way that there’s a plague and lots of elves die--lose their precious lives, lose those connections with others, leave their families torn and distraught and unable to focus on their own duties due to heavy, soul-sucking grief--when one elf causes this level of arcanum-deep catastrophe, I can absolutely see why the other Moonshadow elders would be horrified and grief-stricken, and furious. It’s a very un-Moonshadow thing to have happen, especially with how hard they’re all trying to be so very Moonshadow all the time.

Feathershawl had a position that gave them authority over the food sources that kept a good number of the Forest’s elves fed and able to live their lives without privation. And they screwed that up somehow. They were trusted with a basic staple of everyday life--food--and they got it wrong in such a horrible way that there are a lot fewer Moonshadow elves as a result.

Moonshadow elves need each other’s support and presence as part of their communal network, and anything that tears at that fabric goes against everything that Moonshadow philosophy stands for. Feathershawl themself had literally dozens of family members, whose illusions were kept in their crystal. That’s a lot of family! If it’s common for Moonshadow elves to have that many family members, then a plague would probably touch every family multiple times and leave everyone multiply devastated. It’s just Bad All Around.

There’s probably a lot more to Rayla’s ghosting than we know, since we only learned of it from her POV and she’s not in the habit of sharing Moonshadow secrets with Callum just yet. Knowing that Moonshadow families are so thickly intertwined, and how heavily they rely on each other to help support and cheer each other through standing strong together and mutual services, it’s no big stretch to imagine that Rayla’s biggest crime in Moonshadow eyes wasn’t her supposed running away, it was that her actions cost the Silvergrove their assassin leader, one of their elders and one of the strongest moral guiding hands they had. Rayla cost the Silvergrove their most Moonshadow Moonshadow.

Without Runaan, the Silvergrove is probably reeling quite a bit, and Rayla’s failure is to blame, in their eyes. They’re all suffering, and they need to put the blame somewhere--other than themselves--so they can start to move forward again.

It’s far from ideal. It’s very shame and blame oriented. But it does hold to some internal logic that seems to bear out through the three ghostings we know of for sure so far.

Another things Moonshadows are very good at is quick action. The moment they think there’s been a “mistake”, they move to address it. Whatever feelings they have on the matter, they process it in half a second (if at all) and jump straight to rectification. You attack the Storm Spire? Lain’s gonna kick you down the stairs. You think the Silvergrove ghosted you unfairly? You literally run to Ethari for help. You see Rayla trying to stay on the mission? You grab her wrists so she can’t draw her weapons. You see your workshop doors open but no one’s there? You stop working and fetch a hammer in case you need to smash a vindictive ghost. You think your friends failed their duty and dishonored you? You take everyone you can to go uphold that honor, including a 15 year old girl. (Holy cats does that mean everyone on Runaan’s squad was family, oh god) Swift action is a reassertion of the rules, of what’s right, so no one forgets. That’s got to include ghosting for things that are really terrible.

What I do find interesting is that Eljaal, the homesick assassin who is afraid to return home, may not be worried about ghosting specifically? But it’s a little unclear. I think there is something else they fear, perhaps a lesser punishment? But still one they can’t yet bring themself to face, poor elf.

I do think Moonshadow society is very stressful on the mind, and all these elves have become very skilled at hiding, mitigating, and otherwise working around their stresses and traumas. The greatest illusion that Moonshadows play is the one that Everything Is Fine, because there is always more work to do, and they keep telling themselves that they’re the ones who must do it, for everyone elses’s sakes. Laziness and selfishness are probably the same thing to Moonshadows. Hmm, maybe that’s why Runaan lets his family drag him off to picnics on his birthday, so he doesn’t seem selfish for wanting alone time.

In very very long, anon, Moonshadows are a Mess tee emm, and they’ve been designed that way from the start: doing their best inside a flawed system. This is the heart of their imperfection. They will probably benefit from spending time with literally anyone else aside from just themselves. They really really need to get out more, or to let someone else in, because the strictest of their own traditions are actually ruining the life and beauty they work so hard to celebrate.

[hopeymchope]

Anon finally figured out The Definitive Answer for why so many people worship Bakugo, because there's a blog post by lovecrafts-iranon where, refreshingly, he actually comes right out and SAYS the reason why fandoms worship assholes: he thinks Dudley should have been Harry Potter's protagonist instead of Potter himself, because "good people doing good things are a boring snooze, while cruel and vicious people are entertaining." So he, and others like him, judge morality by "what entertains me".

Wow. I found that Dudley post, and it has SO MANY notes, and NOT EVEN ONE OF THEM IS SOMEONE DISAGREEING. How is that possible?

But I'd like to take a moment to look at this post in more (i.e. WAY TOO MUCH) depth. With pull quotes!

There is so much potential for growth, and at a nice slow pace because he would need to be dragged kicking and screaming every step of the way and have several reversions.

I guess it's true that he'd have to go through a lot more radical change than Harry did. And that would definitely be interesting to see unfurl, in a fashion. But Harry has to learn self-confidence, learn to cope with death (in the sense that he has to process it for the first time), learn to accept the things he can't change... all the things that people in the targeted demographic age of the readership are simultaneously dealing with. Dudley, on the other hand, doesn't have any reason to learn most of that stuff. He's only relatable to readers who are also massive assholes. Dudley's already overconfident - he's full of himself, and him being told that he's basically the Chosen One will only make it much worse. Will he have to cope with death? I mean, maybe someday. But we start with him only caring about himself, so it's unlikely he'd be too terribly affected if someone died in front of him. That would require him to care about someone else. And learning to accept that he can't change everything is something he'd probably struggle with in a semi-interesting fashion, but do you want to watch a spoiled brat who believes he can scream until he gets his way FINALLY start to learn that maybe he should stop screaming and start facing facts? Shit, that just sounds like modern politics. And coping with people who can't face reality is intolerable and infuriating.

Magic, aside from being not real, is a special kind of repulsive evil [to him]. Merely mentioning magic is the only thing that can temporarily revoke his Specialest Boy status.

I think the author is stating that this is a thing that's true of Dudley in the existing novels? Maybe I'm misunderstanding, and this is something that the author of the post wants to introduce into their AU fanfic. If it's the former, however, then I want to point out that there's no evidence that Dudley held any opinions at all on magic before Harry was declared a wizard. His parents sure did, but they never spoke of magic and refused to acknowledge it, so they naturally never said a word to Dudley about it.

So Dudley actually has no reason to be repulsed by the notion of being a wizard. In all likelihood, he'd be overjoyed to be told that he's a super-powered being of importance who everyone in the magical world has heard about. He'd probably want everybody to genuflect when he entered every room from then on. (I am assuming that Dudley must still be the one who has to eventually defeat Voldemort according to prophecy, but I guess he wouldn't be "The Boy Who Lived." His parents were obviously never killed; the fact that they raised him a certain way is what defines his character. He'd need some other kind of legend to cause his fame.)

Harry would never cause problems on purpose, while Dudley would never stop doing so at Hogwarts!

A character who is actively the source of all the trouble they're in isn't remotely sympathetic; I root AGAINST that kind of character. I want LESS of them. I want them to lose.

That's actually part of why I hated the new Snake Eyes movie — every bad thing that happens can logically be laid at Henry "Snake Eyes" Golding's own [probably gorgeous] feet. I'm not rooting for someone like that.

Harry gets to experience friendship and acceptance for the first time, snooze, while Dudley would have to face lack of friendship and rejection for the first time (there is nobody who wouldn't be put off by 'hates magic' even if they were fine with the rest of his personality)! Now that's fascinating!

I still think seeing a lonely boy with no sense of self-worth make his first friends is interesting. But I admit that Dudley facing rejection and lack of friendship for the first time DOES sound fascinating. The author has got me there.

And imagine him going home for Christmas break loudly announcing how happy he is to get away from all those awful wizards only to find out his parents treat him much differently now, their love having been completely conditional all along.

Would it be, though? I guess this is up to the perception of the author, but I kind of imagine Vernon and Petunia taking it as a personal victory if their own spawn is declared the special Chosen One. Their kid being a powerful wizard known around the world, and Lily's kid being no one in particular? They'd visit Lily's grave for the first time ever just so they could dance on it.

I could go on and on. I remember looking to see if there was any Dudley goes to Hogwarts fic as a kid and there was one popular one, but it let Harry go too (boo, the realization there might be something wrong with how his adopted brother is being treated back at home should be a shocking revelation to him), let Dudley become too nice too fast (it should be a long, drawn out process where he never gives an inch he doesn't absolutely have to!) and was too easy on him (characters suffering is good).

Author is assuming that Dudley - now christened a mighty wizard of destiny, the literal Chosen One - would actually perceive of there being something wrong with how his lowly muggle cousin was treated. I'd say: Highly doubtful. He'd just continue to be an asshole about it.

And the longer you drag out an asshole getting redeemed, the more I'm going to feel like "Well I don't fucking care if they get redeemed by this point; they've had every possible chance and every possible piece of evidence thrown at them, and they chose to remain an asshole, so fuck them. They deserve nothing."

At least the author wants Dudley to suffer. Not that I agree with the notion that characters suffering is automatically good, but asshole characters DO often deserve that shit.

BOTTOM LINE: I... just... I guess I shouldn't be surprised that people would actually WANT to focus on horrible assholes? That people want those fuckers to be the heroes instead of actually decent human beings? Because there are so many awful people in the world, so I guess it must be relatable enough for them. But dammit, I'm still surprised.

No, no, no. FUCK no. Being an asshole does not inherently make someone interesting; it just makes them an asshole. They deserve to be punished, not celebrated. They might still be interesting as an antagonist, but I'm sure as hell not going to root for them. And if you're going to insist on spending valuable focus time on these characters, you'd better at least be acknowledging that they are the VILLAIN of the story.

Which is honestly a more logical role for Dudley anyway. If Voldemort told Dudley that he's an exceptional being and that the inferior muggles else should be made to serve at his feet? Dudley would totally go for that. He'd become the whiniest, brattiest Death Eater.

Besides, Dudley is a particularly weird choice for their post, because he's NOT interesting! Not even as an antagonist! Dudley only exists as a one-note plot device. He deserves no attention.

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Right, Wrong (500 Celebration)

500 Celebration Masterlist

Pairing: Ubbe/Reader, mentioned Ubbe/Margrethe, implied Ivar/Reader I’m sorry I can’t help myself

Prompt: From the Quotes category: “Angry, and half in love with you, and tremendously sorry, I turned away.”

Word Count: 2818 (I had my reasons to say these were not drabbles, y’know)

Warnings: A horrible amount of angst, lost love, unrequited love, passing mentions of injuries/violence.

A/N: Hi, first Ubbe piece of this celebration! I hope this is okay, I apologize in advance if it isn’t. Also, not the fluffiest or most Ubbe-positive of fics, fair warning.

“I want you there with me.” Ivar tells you, and though you are surprised, you try not giving it away.

“Why?”

“Why should I have any reason, hm?”

“You expect me to stand next to you, much like Astrid does next to Harald, without any explanation as to why?”

His smile is cold, they always are. And cruel, and they usually are that too.

When the day comes and you do stand next to Ivar as he faces Lagertha and his brothers, you cannot help but wonder if it isn’t Ivar the cruel one, but the Gods. Or, at least, not the cruelest, not when you can see the face of a dead man in Ubbe, and hear his voice when Björn speaks.

For all the certainty you hold that the choice you made that day so long ago was the right one, you still fail to hold Ubbe’s gaze for anything more than a few moments.

You approach slowly, moving seamlessly in between the warriors and shieldmaidens that load their belongings onto the ships; and you take those few moments -those last moments- to look at him.

The evidence of the Saxons’ violence is still on him, in the eye so swollen you could think of Odin then, in the bloodied wounds that are still to heal. In the bruised pride that makes his shoulders stiff and his posture straighter.

Hvitserk is the first of the brothers who notices you standing by the pier, a few feet away from the ship. His warm eyes meet yours before travelling down your figure, stalling on your hands.

Your empty hands.

It is something like sadness, and something more, something like hesitance, that clouds Hvitserk’s features before he nods his head once in acceptance and turns back around to let you say goodbye.

Ubbe doesn’t turn around, he continues working on the last preparations for the trip, and you almost don’t want to know if he is unaware of your presence.

If he is, then you remain as insignificant as you have always feared. If he isn’t, then he believes you remain as malleable as you never intended to be.

You grit your teeth, and turn your back as well.

When you walk by Ivar, who sits there watching his brothers leave, his hand reaches to grab at your forearm.

You do not care if it is a command to remain so Ubbe knows you have chosen to stay or a recognition of what you have left behind, you still wrench your hand from his grasp and continue walking.

It doesn’t matter, the world will never stop for the sake of a shieldmaiden’s helpless heart. And, in your own way, you are grateful it doesn’t.

Because your heart may want some foolish things, but you are more than your heart.

And when they announce the war for Kattegat is inevitable, and the time comes when the tension tightens like the old cords in Sigurd’s oud and you have to bear your sword against the man you once loved; you do.

____

He should know better by now than to try and go past the greater forces and speak directly to an enemy. That is what you are, after all. You chose the side he believes is wrong, and when the battle dawns you will be nothing but another shieldmaiden to strike down.

If you ever were anything more than that, even before this.

Still, Ubbe is here, sitting next to the fire with his elbows on his knees, his face grave and serious, his eyes unnaturally blue even against the warm hues of the flames.

And you take a seat at his side, even if only because this might as well be the goodbye you were too angry to give him that first time.

“Why did you do it? You were supposed to come with me,” He starts, and even if you feel the piercing blue of his eyes set on you, you cannot turn to meet his gaze. “What reasons did you have to stay with Ivar?”

You wonder why it is now that he wishes to know your reasons, now that war is inevitable, now that there is no turning back.

A deep breath, and, “The same reasons I had to leave with you.”

Your voice is colder than you intended, and a cruel part of you is more delighted than you intended when Ubbe recoils as if you had struck him.

But the softer, compassionate, meek woman Ubbe once promised to love is dead, if you ever were her in the first place. If she died, she did so piece by piece, when her sister died in Kattegat, when the man she loved married another woman, when the people she knew her whole life died before her in battle. But maybe, maybe you won over her, when you were promised revenge by dangerous blue eyes and were granted it, when a chest made up of a broken heart met one that was hollow to begin with, when with each battle the taste of blood started being sweeter and sweeter.

“You didn’t even ask me if I was going to leave with you, you didn’t even doubt that I would get on that damned boat,” You tell him, turning to meet wide eyes and trying not to grit your teeth at the misplaced betrayal that shines in them. “I heard you telling your brother how you would leave and take me with you.”

“I thought yo-…”

You interrupt him, because you truly have no interest in hearing what he thought when he had another sharing his bed and his heart, when in his grief he decided to forget you were a person too.

“You thought wrong. You thought I would follow, you thought I would do as you wished.”

“I did,” He confesses, voice grave and low. That wasn’t what you were expecting, but when you turn to look at him, Ubbe looks pointedly ahead. “I was wrong, and I regret it.”

“Yet you still come here, expecting me to follow, expecting me to do as you wish.”

“Fighting to defend Kattegat is the right thing to do. Ivar only wants to pull us all apart. The sons of-…”

“Defending Kattegat is no more righteous than attacking it. Do not try to make this about right or wrong.”

“But you are on the wrong. Ivar is on the wrong.”

The shrug you give speaks the words he doesn’t want to hear, I don’t care.

He offers the only answer he can, “I do not want to fight you, I do not want to face you in battle.”

You shrug, “It isn’t your choice to make, though.”

A twitch of anger in his expression, but that is all he gives away. A part of you wants to push until you see anything human, anything that isn’t this façade of a smoke figure of a man long dead, if he ever existed.

You look so much like your father, they always tell him, and even you see Ragnar in the shape of his face, in the blue of his eyes.

A long time ago, you would have argued he was not like Ragnar in any other way, at least not the Ragnar you remember, the Ragnar of empty eyes and bruises on his wife’s face. The Ragnar that left, the Ragnar that returned with smoke to fill his sons’ heads with and nothing else.

Now, you aren’t so sure, if only because of how much he wants you -and them, it is always them. Them who always speak of legacy, them who always remember a dead man as something more than what he was, them who always insist all sons are good for is retracing bigger footprints- to believe that he is like his father, that he is keeping him alive by just existing. And what you have now is talks of dreams he never had, and people left behind -you, overlooked you to chase after her even when you offered him your heart and so much more, and her, left her alone for so long even if she deserved someone that stayed-.

You are so much like your father, you want to tell him, if only to hurt him, but you aren’t so sure it will anymore.

“This isn’t your choice either, you are following Iv-…”

“I am following no one.”

There it is, the slightest quirk of his mouth that speaks of rage and a strange brand of cruelty. It is human, even if it is painful to see. It is him, even if it isn’t like him at all.

“I always knew you had your arrogance, I never thought you’d be blinded by it.”

“If I am blinded, then I will be easy to strike down in battle,” You stand up, spare one last glance, “I guess we will see when the time comes, hm?”

____

Focused on the mead you swirl in your cup absently, you barely notice the man that takes a seat at your side until he speaks,

“You love him, don’t you?” Sigurd asks, his particular kind of gentleness lacing his words, but something more, something like longing, making the question something more.

You lift your gaze to the newlyweds, smiling absently at the sight of their happiness, and you understand the longing in Sigurd’s voice.

“It does not matter what I feel.” You tell him, but in the humorless curve of his mouth you hear the words he does not retort with.

Standing up and signaling your goodbye with a squeeze of the Prince’s shoulder, you walk up to Ubbe and his wife.

He turns to you with a wide smile, and it is in that oblivious happiness that you can find it in you to not feel bitter about the course of Fate, it is in that open blue of his eyes that you do not find any cruelty. You bow your head, a greeting, a congratulation, and turn to his wife.

Margrethe is more guarded, and her smile is more a façade, but you understand that too. She knows, you know she does.

“May the Gods bless you both, and give you many happy years together.”

Before you are to turn around, the girl’s hand reaches for you, and grasps your forearm gently. You meet her eyes, and Margrethe leans closer, smile small but warm as she whispers,

“Thank you.”

Your hand covers hers for a moment, before you let go and continue walking.

You still wonder what she thanked you for. You still wonder if she curses you now, for not having done something to stop that union, if only out of selfishness, to spare her the pain you suffered then and she suffers now.

You still wonder, after so long, if you should have thanked her instead.

Kattegat is enveloped in shadows, distant fires doing nothing to stop the darkness that approaches at a fast pace. The few that are planning on leaving are frantic, loading their belongings onto their carts and their horses.

You find him much like you did that time, the mark of battle still present on him and the strain of loss making his shoulders tight with tension.

Only this time you stand behind him and find it in you to call his name.

Ubbe turns around immediately, eyes searching for you and almost immediately finding you. You have no time to understand the emotion that shines in familiar blue eyes before his big hands are on you, moving you back against the shadows.

He looks around before he focuses on you, trying to gauge whether anyone saw you. You almost want to ask him why he thinks you are important enough for any of these people to recognize you, but he beats you to a question.

“Why are you here?”

“You don’t have to die with them, you don’t have to run.”

“Ivar won’t accept me here, and you know that,” Ubbe retorts, though he still walks closer to you. With the shadows as heavy as they are, with the veil of night as enveloping as it is, you have never seen him stand taller, have never felt smaller. “You heard him, you were there, when he said I am no longer his brother.”

“I-I can-…”

“You can come with me,” He tells you, and though you are thankful for the interruption, because you had no answer to give; you are stunned into silence by the offer, “The Bishop will help us find refuge in Saxon land. Come with me.”

For a moment, a moment too alike that sharp breath of a warrior that feels the cold iron of a sword go through him, you are once again madly in love, willing to risk it all. You are once again foolish, and malleable.

For a moment, you want to say yes.

Yet the sharp breath leaves your lips, and you are once again standing behind the man you love, hearing him speak so surely of how he will take you from the world you know. You are once again standing on the steps of that damned boat.

And your answer never changed, because you never did.

Because he did.

“No.”

It is in the soft breath, in the widened eyes, in the mix between surprise and grief; that you find nothing but more certainty in your answer.

“I will not follow you, Ubbe,” You tell him, softer now. Though, this isn’t a softness born out of gentleness, born out of love. This is the shallow and slow breaths of a dying woman, the one that would have been able to make the right choice. “I can’t.”

“Of course you can, you have no reason to stay in Kattegat.”

“I do,” You promise, but your voice still holds that defeated softness, that unwilling gentleness. “I have my own ambitions, my own dreams.”

“At Ivar’s side?”

The smile you offer is bitter, and maybe a tad cruel, “Of all the ways I imagined I would become Queen of Kattegat, this wasn’t it. But I do not resent the Gods for the path they have woven for me.”

“You have chosen your own path.” He doesn’t hesitate to accuse.

“Maybe so,” You concede. It isn’t worth the fight. “And you have chosen yours.”

Maybe that is the goodbye you should have said that day when he left for Kattegat, or maybe before then.

Maybe it isn’t a goodbye at all, because there is nothing but memories to say goodbye to.

Maybe it is something else, a new beginning to the lives you will lead, a first meeting between the people you have both become long ago, but neither was brave enough to admit seeing in the other.

“I truly loved you,” You tell him, not sure why now of all times you choose to let him know. “Maybe in some way I love you still. But it changes nothing.”

Familiar, the twitch of his mouth when he looks away, the fire in his eyes in the low light, the way he receives your love without uttering a word.

You are the son of Ragnar Lothbrok, just like us; he would tell Ivar, so often it seems that he still talks about it, about how Ubbe insisted on reminding him he was the son of a legend as much as any of them.

We are the sons of Ragnar, is that not enough for any man? He insisted on that last calm before the storm, pretending he hadn’t spent so many nights with you confessing he did not know the kind of man his father was but still knew he had to admire him.

In the name of Ragnar! Björn had bellowed as the battle for Kattegat commenced, and Ubbe echoed the call, as if the man they called a father had been something other than human, something other than a man, as if they had forgotten of his failings in their loss.

You take a step back, feeling like it should be reversed when you walk into the light and leave him enveloped in shadows. Ubbe watches you raptly, his eyes so unnaturally blue as they trace your movements; but says nothing.

You smile your last goodbye, “You are a son of Ragnar, before you are anything else. I hope that is enough, Ubbe.”

He reaches for you when you move to leave, but you both know it is inevitable. His hand is warm, warmer than it has ever been, on your forearm, and his eyes are sad, sadder than they have ever been, as they gaze upon you.

Your hand reaches for the side fo his face, and the kiss you press against his lips is more of a parting gift than it should have ever been.

His hand drops from your arm, and you walk away. And continue walking, all the way back home.

____ ____ ____

Thank you so much for reading, I hope this was okay even if it wasn’t that Ubbe-positive. I would love to hear your thoughts! Stay safe, love ya!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @1950schick @ietss @peachyboneless​  @encounterthepast @maggiescarborough @chibisgotovalhalla @fae-sedai @zuxiezendler @crazybunnyladysworld @stupiddarkkside @northumbria @sagyunaro @aprilivar @ritual-unions-gotme

[goldenvoicedminstrel]

realised after posting it’s actually @feanorianweek and even day 2, so have some Maglor

The sun was hidden from the sea that day, the rough waves turned murky grey in a perfect mirror image of the dull clouds overhead, both divided only by an endless pale horizon. All around, the colours had disappeared from the earth and Maglor wondered, if perhaps this was what the void looked like. An endless space devoid of colour, sound and feel. 

An endless nothingness to isolate one from one’s own existence and drive one mad. 

It was a far more frightening thought than any darkness or torture. 

Is that what my brothers feel? he asked the only person still listening. 

Does it matter? he answered his own question. He would never join them now, it had been much too long since he had failed to follow his brother’s example and throw the Silmaril into the waves with his body still attached to it. Too many years of wandering and suffering had passed, that had made his next step and the next note of his lament as unescapable as the passing of the hours and years. He had woven the mourning resonance of the Noldolantë into the music of Arda itself and himself with it. 

Even if he did not care if he lived, he had been surviving for so long he thought he might not know how to die anymore.

The coarse sand and stones were biting into the soles of his bare feet as he walked, having long since discarded his worn through boots. Now the quiet crunch of his steps in the sand formed an imperfect metronome for his song. 

“I fixed it.”

Curufinwë stands before him, hands outstretched and in them a little box, ticking away with the steadiness of his own heart beat.

“It was easy, Atar did not even have to show me how. Now you must not be cross with me anymore.”

 Again his feet lost their rhythm, one sinking a little deeper into a puddle of water that had been hidden under the wet sand. Around his foot he could feel the pull of the waves towards the sea, dragging the sand with them and hollowing out the ground he stood upon. He stepped aside instinctively, onto a sharp shell that cut through his skin.

“Careful, Laurë!” Maitimo calls and the white towers of Alqualondë glitter behind him, shining with the colours of the Mother of Pearl fragments inlaid in their walls. 

“Let me see that. Where was that head of yours again?”

He picked up the shell. Its hard, curved form was broken and the white edges ragged, now tinted pink with his blood.

“Káno, look what I found!” A smudge of silver races towards him, so fast, that his light hair whipping behind him in the wind blends into the pale morning light around him. When Tyelkormo opens his small hands they reveal a cone shell and, emerging from it, the scarlet claws of a hermit crab. “Can we please take him home with us?”

He thought his hair might be turning pale too. Grey, like that of the Edain, when their spirits and bodies started to wane after long years of sorrow and grief. His skin seemed grey as well, and sometimes he thought it was because he could see the grey sky through it. Perhaps he was just becoming a part of that greyness around him, fading into a lament on the waves, his song lost under the cry of the gulls and raging of the sea. Another gull flew over his head, so close this time that he could feel the gust of wind from its wings in his hair. 

A shrill scream comes from the other side of the beach, followed by a bought of laughter.

“You sound like the gulls, Moryo!”

A dark haired elfling’s face is turning an impressive shade of red as he scowls at his brother.      

“I do not!” he cries and crosses his thin arms, but when his indignation shows no effect, he quickly ducks down and picks up a handful of wet sand, hurling it towards his still laughing brother. 

“Stop laughing at me, Tyelko!” he insists and the blonde’s face immediately turns grave, as he bends down in an exaggeratedly somber manner to pick up his own lump of sand. 

“If this is how you want to play…” he says, and the scene quickly dissolves into childish screams of laughter.

Little wet droplets were running down Maglor’s cheeks. Ah, he thought, it must be raining.

There was an opening in the high basalt cliffs, nothing more than a crack in the dark structure looming over him, a comfortable shelter for a child perhaps, but not enough to hide a grown adult. He walked past and let his scarred hand trace the stone. It was as rough and blackened as his own scorched skin and its sharp edges seemed detached from under his unfeeling finger. 

The wind blew sharper now and the dark strands of his dirty hair tangled before his eyes, obscuring his sight. He listened instead to the desperate howling of the wind trapped in the small cracks and hollows of unmoving stone.

Two red-haired children cling to him, the vibrant colour of their hair burning with the curb’s fire behind them and their identical faces are flushed with excitement and the only recently abandoned heat of the flames.

“Tell us a story Káno! About why the wind howls so. Does it sing like you do? What does it sing about?”

His hair was whipped away from his eyes again by another violent gust of wind, but the darkness stubbornly remained. Was it night already? There were no stars he could distinguish, not even in the West was his father’s creation visible to the hopeful eye. He clenched his hand and walked on, the howl of the wind lost beneath his own.

He walked until the path before him rose away from the soft sand and up on uneven stone, crumbling away under his feet as he climbed, the small pebbles falling endlessly into the abyss beside him. He would not sleep, only make one step after the other until he would drop from exertion, too exhausted for even dreams to find him, may they be horrible- or worse- good.

He stumbled.

There was a bird at his feet, the white feathers making it visible to him even in the night- no, that was the dawn breaking over the horizon.

One of the creature’s wings was twisted and its neck broken, overstretched into an unnatural position on the ground, his honey coloured beak turned away from its body as if pointing out the way ahead.

Did the storm do this to you? he asked, but the dark eyes gave no answer.

He touches the impossibly soft feathers with a trembling hand and suddenly, for the first time since he has been born into these immortal lands of Aman, he understands that even here nothing lasts forever. He thinks of his grandmother, lying as beautiful and lifeless as this little bird while his father strokes her soft hair. The bird must have a mother too, or little nestlings screaming for it, and if it doesn’t, how lonely it must have been.  Perhaps it is a silly thing to anguish about, but he has a vivid imagination and a soft heart and has never seen death before.

Through his tears he sees his father hurrying from his forge, alarmed by his young son’s despairing wails.

“What is it, Makalaurë? What has happened? Are you hurt?” his father’s face is tight and pale and his hands are running over his child’s small form, trying to find the cause of his hurt, to fix it as he always does. “Please, tell me why you are weeping,” he asks again and spots the lifeless bird in the same moment. His shoulders drop in relief and his features relax into a sad smile as he pulls his sobbing son into a tight embrace. “It is alright ‘Laurë,” he whispers to him. “Everything has its time.”

He turned away from the bird and walked on as the sun rose higher into the clear, blue sky.

His father, who then had been so much younger than he must be by now, and so anxious about any sadness befalling his newly formed family. 

Maitimo had been an easy child in that regard, and really in any other regard as well. Happy and content, with the sure confidence of someone who had grown up with all of his parent’s praise and attention and who, deep down, believed he deserved it. Kind and courteous to everyone and widely loved- and later admired- in return. When he had been quiet, it had been with thoughtful consideration or the comfort that needed no words. Maitimo had never been despairing.

He himself however, befitting the poet he would become, had been much more volatile. His joy had been delightfully loud but his sorrow even louder. How unsettling these first fits of despair must have been for his father, who had always lived under the shadow of his mother’s fate.

His brothers had shed tears too, of course, but they were easily quietened. Tyelko had cried in pain after falling out of a tree and Moryo often in anger. Curvo had sometimes teared up in frustration and the Ambarussa had sobbed in fear the first time they had heard the tale of their father’s mother and discovered that there might be a force in this world that could separate them after all. But Maitimo…

The hard stone under his feet had softened into dry earth and the narrow path was being overtaken by yellow and green patches of grass and finally a thick carpet of heather, the sea of small green leaves parted by spots of rose and purple flowers. A twig snapped underneath his weary feet.

The air is filled with the fragrance of blooming petals as he wanders through the labyrinth of thick green hedges and thorny bushes heavy with blossoms of every colour. Even now, thirsty and irritated as he is, he marvels at the beauty of it all, his parched throat aching to burst into a verse of song in celebration. Yet first he needs to find his brother, as his father had sent him out to do hours ago. But today Maitimo seems to have disappeared from the face of Arda entirely and his grandfather’s rose garden is his last hope. There is a spot there his brother had shown him when he had been but a little boy- his secret hiding place he had called it. 

He ducks under the low branches of a young tree and carefully pushes away some of the dense shrubbery before he stills.

He hears their laughter before he sees them, sitting in the grass, a bottle of what must be grandfather’s good wine lying forgotten next to them.  They are leaning against each other and speaking in hushed, excited tones, and suddenly his brother is throwing his head back and is laughing, laughing until there are tears running down his cheeks and he has to gasp for breath. He is still holding onto Findekáno’s arm as his giggling cousin wipes away his tears of mirth. 

Quietly he turns away and leaves, reporting to their father that Maitimo is nowhere to be found.

 The sun was high in the deep blue sky and the sea glittered faintly beneath it. 

Maglor’s path lead him down again, away from the heather, towards the waves where the smell of salt perpetuated the air he still breathed. He did not hear the gulls anymore and the light breeze that seemed to caress his cheek was too weak to drown out his lament.

When his feet sank into soft sand again, the sun was already setting and suddenly the sky was set aflame in the same shade of red he had loved and hated and grieved more than anything else.

And again he walked on. Was it raining again?

And when Maglor walks the shore alone, his brothers walk with him, and on the wind his father’s voice whispers: “Why are you weeping, Makalaurë?”

[puppy-phum]

for the character ask...OUR FAV BOY LIU SANG

(*´∇｀*)/💖

i had to come answer this one bc!! my son!!!! aaaaaaahhhh!!!!!! so thank you sob now i can talk about my second sour grape boy,,, wait. ok well, hissy kitten  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  spot the difference (you can’t)

give me a character

(placing this one under a cut too bc oh boy. i have things to say about liu sang)

How I feel about this character

Good lord. I feel so many ways about Liu Sang. He is absolutely amazing but he also just drives me insane every day. No other character has ever given me such headaches, he must be proud. Finally someone suffers as much as him (because I bet those ears cause him a permanent migraine). I feel sorry for him. I’ll take this pain gladly if it helps him in any way. 

But well. As simply as with Jiang Cheng, I do love Liu Sang. I shouldn’t really be surprised (at this point) that I fell in love with him but back when I was watching Reboot, he hit me like a truck. Which,,, he probably drove that truck himself, judging from the way he was handling the car chase with Jiang Zisuan. Just ruthlessly drove me over. I never stood a chance, not in front of that arrogance and stubbornness and enormous puppy eyes. 

And with all of himself, good and bad, he makes me feel so many things. One of those, probably the strongest one, is protectiveness. He needs someone to protect him from himself because he has a nasty self-destruction streak going. Boy has not known love since he was born. He has gone through way too much to try handle it alone. I can’t even remember how old he is supposed to be in Reboot (maybe 29?), but that is way too many years of fighting a battle he was never supposed to win. But he pulled through. Cynical and prickly and absolutely terrified of any human contact but he fucking pulled through. I want to fight some battles for him now. He deserves to rest. He deserves some peace and quiet and unconditional care. I want to tell him that he doesn’t deserve all the pain he’s going through, all the pain he himself is putting his body through because he thinks he can only be used as a punching bag. I want to tell him he deserves friends. I want to tell him that it’s okay to trust people again. I want to... just protect him. And maybe this is why – because of all this fragile mess I’ve discovered from inside of him while trying to figure out who he is – I struggle so much with writing him. I feel like I’m bringing up things no one is supposed to see. I feel like I’m pulling out words from him like teeth. But at the same time, I know he’s desperate to tell these things. 

So I struggle because I love him. Willingly. But oh boy does he annoy me sometimes, under all that protectiveness and fondness I have for him.  

All the people I ship romantically with this character

I am quite sure at this point that I don’t really ship Liu Sang with anyone. No one clicks with him in my head so well that I could feel myself slipping into the proper shipping territory. But I haven’t minded any of the ships I’ve seen for him, not Pingxiesang (which makes me super soft) or him with Kanjian (which is so sweet) or even @kholran’s pool noodle Risang (which is very interesting and I will read your fic, friend, when I am out of my Pingxie pit! I just need to feed these beasts first). I am mostly just very intrigued by all these ships people come up with because it really plays to my wish to just explore his dynamic with every other character that is available for him. 

But to put it simply: Not one perfect match exists for him yet in my head. Let’s give boy some time to figure out freindships first. 

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Well, this one I love because! This is what he is all about for me, somehow. So I will mention three: Xiaoge, Bai Haotian, and Pangzi. 

First, like I already mentioned in my Xiaoge answer, I adore Liu Sang’s dynamic with his ouxiang. They are both so damn awkward. I feel like I’m following a train wreck happening in slow motion any time I see them interact but instead of death and flames and screeching metal, it’s. surprisingly soft and sweet? They are both very tentative when it comes to people so they somehow get each other? Even if Liu Sang is a mess when it comes to Xiaoge which I totally get because I have once in my life met a person I consider a celebrity and who I look up to a lot and I was just shaking. And giggling. And acting dumbly. So I don’t blame Liu Sang for any of that; I’m actually quite proud that he’s keeping his cool so well and despite the rough start, manages to be a huge asset to his ouxiang. I am so happy that he gets to have this budding friendship with Xiaoge because they both need it.

Then! Bai Haotian. I’ve been thinking about them a lot lately and the more I rewatch some of their scenes together, the more I notice that they really develop a bond during Reboot. They are in a very similar position: brought in because of their idols, young, sometimes overlooked, struggling, and usually falling behind. And oh, definitely in need of some saving and with tragic backstories. They could be such amazing friends, and I think they come to trust and care for each other during their trip to Thunder City. Bai Haotian is so caring by nature and then Liu Sang is just right there. And Bai Haotian is so lowkey about her care; she doesn’t push if people don’t want her to, which works so well for Liu Sang. She’s there when needed. She doesn’t ask too much. She knows how it feels to look up to one of the members of the Iron Triangle and then curl your own life around them. (She also knows how it feels to have a crush on that same member and then notice that crush will never lead you anywhere, though I guess Bai Haotian comes to realize that during their trip instead of years before but well, details.) She doesn’t judge Liu Sang and somehow Liu Sang comes to rely on her a lot. 

And last but not least (never the least!): Pangzi. God I adore these two to bits. Their banter is just *chef’s kiss* and when I look at them, all I can think about is a big dog trying to pat a hissing kitten with its paw. Which then turns to the kitten play fighting the dog’s big paw. And then getting tired. And falling asleep. While the huge dog just curls its body around the kitten to keep it warm, and maybe the kitten swats at the dog slightly for show but actually it enjoys it. Because it’s nice and soft and very warm. So yes, I love it how Pangzi and Liu Sang start off as enemies but come to care for each other. I cry about the peanut scene every day. Yes please adopt this poor stray kitten, he deserves a loving home ;; Give him food and a blanket and maybe he will hiss a little less (Pangzi also gives great hugs and Liu Sang deserves a dozen. For starters.) 

My unpopular opinion about this character

Once again I am at a loss with this. I don’t really know what this fandom thinks about Liu Sang? I feel like our tiny Liu Sang hyping corner here on tumblr is very much unified with the opinions. We all love him a lot and want the best for him, case closed. So maybe I’ll just talk about my hypersensitivity headcanon for him? Let me do that for fun haha

So, I know he’s sensitive to sounds. Understandable, with his skills. And I feel bad for him for that because it must be horrible at times (we get introduced to him through him vomiting because he can’t handle a train station with all the noise, christ) but I also somehow relate to that. I get sensitive to sounds sometimes too. A simple click of my mouse can be annoying at times. I require absolute silence quite often, and this intensifies if my emotions are on the negative side. So, somehow I’m taking things from that. Touch hurts when he’s feeling bad about himself. Noises annoy him when he’s angry or scared. Lights look too bright or he feels like he can’t focus his gaze when he’s sad or panicking. Smells and tastes are intensified when he’s stressed. I dunno, just simple little things. Him feeling through his senses. Him just generally being sensitive with his feelings because this world is a demanding place and pushes you into feeling things. And I feel like a lot about him is already tied to his hearing so why not his feelings too? I’ve read so many nice takes on him which somehow support this so I feel like this just fits right in. 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon

Liu Sang joins the final celebration!! Him just disappearing doesn’t make sense at all!!!! Let him get hugs!!! Let him be happy!!!! Oh my god. I was so mad about that and still am because no way did he just leave and not join his new friends for this final evening!!! Dammit. No matter how much he feels like he doesn’t belong and like he’s just “a hired talent” among them, he’s not that dull!! He got those damn peanuts and some hugs and shoulder pats from people, he was there saving the day, he managed to create bonds!!! And god, knowing Wu Xie, he would never allow Liu Sang to think that lowly of himself!!!! He would be there to offer Liu Sang the world if he wants it!! Gaaaahhhh

So yeah, give Liu Sang his moment with his new family or I am throwing something, for fuck’s sakes

thank you again for sending me these asks ♥ i’ll answer the rest during these next few days! you’re amazing!!

[burnedbyshoto]

Bravado

part two to happiness

pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warning: cussing. soulmate!au

word count: 4,060

a/n: here’s part one ~ part three 

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

bravado: (n) a bold manner or a show of boldness intended to impress or intimidate.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

“Can we talk?”

You drove ahead ignoring the voice that seemed to be a constant nag in your life. Your eyes focused straight ahead as you gripped your case in your hands.

Cold. Unmoving. Stubborn.

You refused to give Todoroki your time of day as the both of you were called in for what would be the last time as Hero Work students.

“Y/n, come on,” His voice pleads slightly. It was a tone that you would never have expected to hear from Todoroki of all people, but you didn’t care. You didn’t want to hear it from him. “You can’t ignore me forever you know.”

You’re fed up.

Turning on your heel, you glare at your soulmate who had been walking at your heels. His eyes widening as your eyes locked with him.

“I told you not to fucking talk to me.” You seethe lowly. Todoroki didn’t speak as you licked your lips, your mouth feeling dry. “You agreed that night not to talk to me. I am letting you and Yaomomo live the rest of your lives fucking happy together, and you’re telling me that you want to talk?” You shake your head in disbelief as a cold chuckle escapes your lips. “Should I make my name turn gold on your wrist and forever hold your name in black? Is that what you fucking want Todoroki?!”

Your tone becomes too hurt, your true emotions bubbling to the surface. “I get it I’m not Yaoyorozu Momo! I don’t have money, status, and I don’t fucking have your heart! Stop trying to make yourself feel less guilty because guess fucking what! If you feel guilty? If you feel sorry for me?!”

Your chest is flying in a horrible rhythm as Todoroki just stares at you. His voice fails him, but you’re not quite done yet. You step closer to him, your finger jabbing against his chest as your eyes squint, your voice an almost growl, “I don’t want you to fucking apologize! I want the guilt to eat you alive. I want you to drown in your thoughts like I drowned in mine.” Angry and bitter tears welled in your eyes, and yet they refused to fall. “I deserve so much better than some shitty soulmate the universe chose for me. I hope you’re happy.” You smile.

Your cheeks are stiff, your lips are too tight.

“Just forget I exist.”

Even though you were searching for happiness, you still didn’t have it.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Seven Months Later

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Morning routines were now a must for you.

First, you wake up and remove any ice packs and heat pads from any sore muscles. Second, you climb out of bed, your arms stretching well above your head as moans leave your mouth. Third, you removed the wristband that lay permanently on your left wrist at home. You walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind you as you turned on the light. Your eyes focusing on your reflection as you get ready for the day. Hair up, wash your face, brush your teeth, and use the restroom. You stepped back out as you grabbed a tube of foundation, and you looked down at your wrist.

Seven months after finding the person you were meant to be with, and the ink was still black. Except for Momo and whoever it was who had rejected her, it seemed that you and Todoroki were the only soulmates in the world to still have black ink after five months.

Seven months of routinely applying foundation onto your wrist. Forever obscuring the black letters that reminded you of your failed love. A promise to keep Todoroki happy.

The person that should have been yours but who decided that someone else was better.

Next, you changed into your hero outfit. Your costume fits perfectly, and the new addition of forearm guards helped to keep your secret hidden. Then, you stared at yourself in the mirror, a smile coming onto your face because you were happy. After seven months you were now a Pro-Hero who made people feel safe. You were happier now; happiness had somewhat found you after weeks of feeling broken.

Finally, you left.

Your bare feet hit the wood of the floor almost silently. Your body making it’s way over to your bed as you pressed a soft kiss to the still sleeping man.

“I’ll be back later tonight.” You whisper even though you don’t expect an answer.

Arms, however, wrap around you tightly. They yank you into the bed, and you squeal in surprise. Your protests are silenced as his body envelopes you, keeping you locked into place as chapped lips press softly against your temple.

“I don’t think I’m going to let you go,” He whispers to you. “I’m perfectly okay with you in my arms like this.”

“I have to go to work!” You laugh as you put on a weak attempt to squirm out of his arms.

“But I want to have you in my arms.”

“If I get in trouble, you’re so getting the blame for it!” You laugh as you look up at his smiling face.

Blond, bright, and sunny.

Kaminari’s bedhead made your heart squeeze a bit as you grinned at him.

“I just want my beautiful girlfriend to love me with all her heart before her soulmate steals her away from me any day!”

“And your soulmate?” You giggle as he presses a sweet and soft kiss against your lips.

“My soulmate is probably not in existence.” Kaminari sighs as his lips leave yours.

“Who says mine is!” You tease as you stroke your fingers through his tangled mess. “What if my soulmate doesn’t want me and I can stay with you?”

“You’re entirely too amazing to not have a soulmate, first of all. Second of all, whoever is your soulmate would be an actual idiot to deny someone like you.” Kaminari explains as his mouth grazes yours softy.

“What if I want to stay with you?”

“I’d probably piss my pants.”

“Gross.”

“You are too, but here I am loving you.” Kaminari chuckles as you roll your eyes. His mouth moving to press kisses against your face in a lovingly way.

“I love you, Denki, but I really need to go to work now.” You say against his peppering lips. “I just need to…” His lips press against your soft neck and your mind goes blank.

A small electrical shock shoots through your body. The sensation stirring you from your haze.

“I think it’s cute you’re so responsive and all, but you should get going.”

“You’re a fucking tease.” You pout but nonetheless roll out of bed.

You stare at your boyfriend, the lopsided grin on his face endearing as he stretches. Your eyes trail down his body. Staring at the muscles you wanted to ravish at this moment before he clicked his tongue.

“Down horny girl, go to work!” Kaminari smirks as he points at the door. “I’m going back to sleep!”

Your eyes roll as you walk away, finally leaving to work.

“Have a good day!” Kaminari shouts after you. “I love you, y/n!”

“I love you too, dumbass.”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

mina: hey, are you and kaminari coming to kiri’s bday dinner tonight?

you: we are! why?

mina: kami never confirmed, smh. okay! see you guys here then, everyones coming!

You stared at the word everyone, the word making you go numb.

While you held no more feelings towards your soulmate, you didn’t want to see him. You didn’t want to have to face him. After graduating, you had gone to Miruko to ask about when you two would no longer be working in junction with Endeavor.

Miruko had been all for it thankfully. She had thrown a strong guy pose as she exclaimed about you being tough enough to fight without help. Thus the working relationship with Endeavors agency had concluded.

Twisting your mouth you placed down your phone as you sighed softly. Your fingers sweat at the thought of not being able to avoid Todoroki. Could you really stand a full night of being amicable to a man you didn’t want to be pleasant to? The few days of school you had following the grand reveal had been hard, the two of you were entirely too strained and unfriendly with each other. You couldn’t act that way tonight, you knew that… but could you manage to do it?

A strong hand came slamming down on your shoulder, interrupting your spiraling thoughts as you whipped your head around.

“Are ya okay?” Miruko asked with a raised eyebrow. “You’re being weird and depressed. We need to head out soon though and I can’t have you on the field if you’re gonna be weird.”

You laugh softly as you rub your neck, your chest tight despite the easy-going smile on your face.

“I’ll be okay, I promise!” You say, patting her arm softly as if she was the one who wasn’t okay. “Just going to be meeting up with all of my old classmates tonight. It’ll be the first time since graduation night we’re all able to make it.”

“You’re gonna go see all those squirts?” Miruko laughed as she crossed her arms above her chest. “Well, as long as you still show up tomorrow on time I could care less.”

The resulting snort from your nose makes you groan, “You’re the worst.”

“Oh hush, you do better when I bully you anyway!”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

“I don’t think we’ve ever been here before.” You whistle as you look at the house where Kirishima’s party was being held.

It was going to be the twenty of you at this celebration. Your eyes glanced back at Kaminari who was currently pulling into the driveway. His hand holding yours as you looked around. The house was extremely nice; too nice for someone who had just turned nineteen.

“It’s Yaomomo’s,” Kaminari spoke, responding to your internal thoughts as he glanced at you. His yellow eyes glowing with joy as you nodded your head. “We were here the other day for Iida’s birthday.”

You nodded your head in realization. You had missed Iida’s birthday dinner because you had been held up at work that night.

“Do you think everyone’s here yet?” You ask as you see the different cars parked in the entrance. “Are we really always the last ones to arrive?” You laugh as Kaminari parks the car.

“We could be the first ones to arrive, but you’re never ready to leave on time!” Kaminari teases you as you both climb out of the car. You held onto the birthday gift the two of you had bought for Kirishima.

“I’m never on time because you take forever getting out of the bathroom!” You complain as the both of you walk hand in hand to the front door. The doorbell chiming as Kaminari pressed it.

Anxiety shot through you again as you tensed in his hold. Kaminari pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, the contact gratifying as your eyes close. Every worry is temporarily forgotten. As the door opens, your eyes fall back open. Your grin returning to your face as it’s Mina who opens the door.

“You guys finally decided to show up!” Mina exclaims as she launches herself into your arms.

“Sorry Mina, y/n took forever as always!” Kaminari apologizes as he gives the pink hero a hug before walking into the house.

“Alright, so a lot has happened since we last saw each other,” Mina exclaimed with a dreamy look in her eyes.

“I know you’re engaged, Mina.” You laugh as the two of you enter the house.

“But you haven’t seen the ring in person yet!”

You talked with your best friend as you went around the house greeting and hugging everyone. Your nerves made your skin crawl, but you still hadn’t seen Todoroki.

Momo was the last person you saw, her smile kind and warm as she embraced you.

Momo is your friend, you repeated over and over again as the creation hero chatted with you about what was happening in her life. Your smile felt fake again as you nodded about all the good that she had been able to achieve so far. Three minutes into the conversation, it felt as if it were eight months before. When you weren’t bitter towards your friend. When you were hopeful for whoever your soulmate was. You knew that Momo had no idea that you were Todoroki’s soulmate, or at the very least, she was doing an extremely good job at hiding it.

Her left-hand trailed to scratch her cheek as you and Mina stood before her listening to her stories with awe. Then something caught your attention. A simple yet elegant band sitting on her ring finger.

“Y-You’re engaged.” You stammer unintentionally as you stare at her hand.

Momo’s eyes look almost confused before her eyes snap to the ring on her finger, a pink blush overcoming her. Mina’s mouth dropped as she began screaming, but you fell silent. It seems that they had noticed yet, and suddenly your entire class was surrounding the three of you. Several hands stretching to take a glimpse of the ring on her finger.

Your world spun as you stumbled back into Kaminari who held your shoulder. You watched as his jaw dropped in his joy for Momo. The love and excitement in everyone’s eyes were so obvious, and it was so evident you felt as if you were an intruder.

It felt ghastly, could that have been you?

You push away from the crowd, but they don’t seem to notice you walking away.

His name burns against your skin as you walk out of the house and sit onto the porch.

It’s cold, chilly and quiet, yet you feel hot as you attempt to still your beating heart.

You thought were happy.

You believed you had found happiness.

So why were you feeling like this?

You deserved someone who wanted you as you were.

You needed someone who wanted you. They shouldn’t care about the universe’s influence like how Todoroki chose Momo without being fated. Guiltily, stubbornly, and pathetically, you wanted to be needed like that.

Yet despite your dumb wallowing, no tears came to your eyes as you stare blankly at the cars.

“You okay?” A voice asks from behind you.

“Just… overwhelmed.” You admit as you look behind you to see Kaminari who looks very concerned.

“Why’s that?” He asks you, sitting down beside you. He puts an arm around you and you sigh as you lean your head against his shoulder.

“Pretty soon all the girls will be engaged and I won’t be.” You lie and sigh. “It’s just weird.”

It’s silent for a while as the two of you sit there, staring at the scenery before you. Neither one of you knowing what to say. Despite everything, you craved to tell Kaminari about Todoroki and Momo being faux soulmates. Something inside you wished for them to no longer be happy, but you knew that it was petty and childish of you to think so.

“This entire soulmate thing is bullshit though,” Kaminari whispers to you, pulling you from your thoughts. “Some universal being decides that a single person in our life is supposed to be the person meant for us? Based on what exactly? Am I supposed to believe that my soulmate when they’re eighteen is going to be the same person when they’re eighty? Will I love them that entire time? Would I love them? Or is it because this dumb thing told us so? Do we really fall in love with our soulmates organically? I believe some people fall in love with theirs because of the dumb tattoo, which makes knowing who your soulmate worthless.”

Your eyes flutter towards Kaminari as you grin softly. Your boyfriend really surprised you at times. “That’s very insightful of you, Denki. Where’d you steal it from?” you tease as you press a kiss to his cheek.

“It was on a t-shirt I found at Hot Topic.” Kaminari chuckled as he nuzzled his nose into your cheek. Your resulting giggles lightening the mood.

“I knew it.” You sigh as Kaminari presses a kiss to your lips.

It’s gentle, sweet, and soft.

Your eyes closed as his lips dance with yours, your heart fluttering as you press closer.

Kaminari cups your face, his head tilting against yours as your mouths share secrets with each other.

You pull away as soon as his tongue pokes against your lower lip, your eyes rolling as you laugh. “Easy there, horny boy.” You say as your fingers tangle into his hair. “We’re in public, and it’s not our place.”

“You think I won’t fuck you in front of all of them?”

Your face twists as you shove him, “I would never let you do that, nasty.”

Kaminari’s sweet laughter makes you grin as he pulls you back into a gentle embrace.

There you two sit, enjoying each other embrace as his hands take yours into his.

Everything’s calm, peaceful and serene.

Your fingers tracing against his palm as everything feels okay again.

That is until Kaminari suddenly tensed, and a bright white light overcame the two of you.

Kaminari trembled in your hold as your eyes widen, soft gasps escaping his mouth as he crumbled against you. Your eyes looked immediately at his left wrist and the weirdest sense of elation and nausea hit you.

There was a name.

It was just a name, and yet you found yourself peeling away from his touch and shifting away from him. Your right hand unconsciously rubbing your right wrist.

“Y-Y/n…” Kaminari whispers as his eyes look so at peace. “Was that—”

You nod your head, a small and happy smile on your face as you point at his left wrist before continuing to rub. “Who’s the lucky person?” You ask as Kaminari stares at the black ink.

“It doesn’t matter,” He says as he drops his hand. “I’m with you right now. What I said about soulmates doesn’t change just because I have one now.”

“It’s not going to hurt my feelings, you know?” You laugh as you nudge your maybe-ex-boyfriend. “I know you better than you think Denki! Even if you don’t agree with soulmates, you want yours.”

Kaminari stares at you, his eyes are obviously full of sorrow for you.

“Y/n…”

“Their name, dork.” You press as you smile broader. If there was anyone in this world who deserved a soulmate, it was Kaminari Denki.

His yellow eyes glance down towards his wrist, and he sighs, “Her name is Jia.”

Your eyebrows raise, “I don’t know a Jia.”

“I don’t either.” He pauses. “Should we try to find her?”

“Let’s wait for her to finish high school first,” you say. “If she’s Japanese at least.”

“I don’t know how to pronounce her last name…”

“Oh, an international soulmate!” You gasp, and your hands cutely press against your cheeks.

“I knew I was meant to—,” Kaminari paused as he stared at your wrists. Your hands dropped as you looked at your flesh as well, your eyes widening as the black ink shone through the foundation. “Was that—?”

“No,” you interrupt, hiding your hands behind you. You shove the sleeves of your shirt further down your hands. Kaminari’s eyes search your face, his finger pointing at you.

“That was your soulmate’s name…” Kaminari blinks as his eyebrows furrow. “You have a soulmate?! Why have you been lying?!”

Kaminari’s voice wasn’t angry; it’s confused. His eyes searching yours for answers, for a clue that you had left behind. But you feel your throat thick with emotion as you shake your head. The tears are back in your eyes, and yet they still won’t fall.

“It doesn’t matter.” You whisper.

“Of course it does!” Kaminari insists. “Is it Mineta? Because if it is, I will personally make sure he never does you dirty!”

“I-It’s not Mineta!” You laugh, your fingers raking through your hair. “You know he wouldn’t have been quiet about it if it had been me.”

“Okay, true, but come on!” Kaminari leans in close, his eyes glued on yours. “Who is it, y/n?”

“No one you know,” You lie.

“Come on, you wouldn’t be hiding if I didn’t know!”

His hand snatches yours and you’re helpless as he drags your wrist into his line of view.

“Todoroki Shouto!” Kaminari cooes as he glances at the name and looks at you, his eyebrows wiggling. “Wait, what?!” He just about screams.

“Denki!” you hiss as you cover his mouth. “Shut up!”

“What about me?” A voice asks from in front of you.

It’s then that you truly feel at a loss. Your body stiffens as Kaminari is mid-lick.

Todoroki stands a few strides from the entrance, his hands holding a present as he looks at the two of you. His face is almost emotionless. It’s neutral, yet curious, as to what’s happening.

“Nothing.” You say immediately as you drop your hand. Your eyes glaring at Kaminari as you wipe his slobber onto his jeans. “You clearly misheard Denki say ‘Moroki Koto’, he's a new idol.”

“I know what my name sounds like.” Todoroki remarks as he stares at you. You can’t read the emotions in his eyes, but you don’t like being stared at by him of all people.

“Can you please explain what’s going on?” Kaminari asks as his eyes shift between the two of you. “I thought Todoroki was soulmates with Yaomomo? You can have more than one soulmate? What the hell?”

“You only have one romantic soulmate.” You whisper as you refuse to tear your gaze away from Todoroki.

“Did the universe make a mistake?” he mumbles and you shove him as you stand up.

“It did,” you say, standing up and brushing off the wrinkles in your outfit. “Right, Todoroki?”

“Y/n, that’s not—”

“NO!” You yell. You glare at him, Todoroki’s eyes widening as he looks at you. “Don’t speak unless you’re agreeing with me.”

“We can’t act like adults here?” Todoroki’s eyes roll as he steps closer to you, his eyebrows furrowed, and frown set on his lips. “I really can’t speak to you ever again? Is that how it is?”

“I don’t want to hear anything coming out of you, to be frank,” you snark as Kaminari shoots to his feet. Kaminari's hands flail as he tries to run interference.

“What’s going on?!”

“Nothing!” Todoroki and you shout in unison.

“Seven months?” you say taking a step towards him. “That’s all it took?”

“I could say the same about you.” Todoroki snaps.

“Yet here I am without a ring,” you hiss as your upper lip curls. “You really went and proposed and had the fucking balls to try and confess everything to Denki right now?”

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about!” Todoroki insists as the two of you face off. You’re so close that your noses almost brush. Despite how your heart longs for the man in front of you it's your anger that prevails.

“Is everything okay?” Momo’s voice asks.

Your head whips around for a second. You see not only the engaged woman who captured your soulmate’s heart before you had a fighting chance but everyone else. But you’re exhausted, and you’ve long given up.

You just wanted to be happy and in love, and you weren’t going to have that choice with him even with his name inked into your skin. You deserved happiness and you knew that.

It’s almost as if Todoroki is able to read your thoughts. His jaw drops to speak as you turn around, presenting his name on your wrist.

“On my birthday seven months ago, I found out that Todoroki Shouto was my soulmate. He rejected me, and now seven months later I’ve been adhering to what makes him happy. So while I do wish you, Momo, happiness and love with Todoroki, I can’t keep being unhappy for your two sakes.”

Everyone’s eyes shot over towards the engaged girl as you turn on your heel and walk away. The tears in your eyes finally drop, and yet they don’t bother you.

You’re uncaring about the shouts and clamors of the truth that was presented. Despite the guilt that bubbles in your throat because of the petty reveal you gave, you feel light.

For the first time since that night seven months ago you feel truly and completely happy.

[farouchelyoptimistic]

HyunJi: Rekindle

Part 2

It was too good to be true. To beautiful and free. It was too easy. It felt too perfect. But in a world as cruel as the one we live in, nothing comes too easy. Everything great has a price, everyone has a hurdle to face. It was bound to head to a turning point, they both knew that. They never brought it up to each other, but they were fully aware of it. They thought, that maybe if they just try to ignore the flashing red warning signs, everything would remain to be okay.

It's natural to turn a blind eye to things that threaten our happiness, it's human nature. When we get a taste of something that makes us immeasurably happy, we long to protect it, to guard it so it's not taken away from us. We end up being liars, fooling ourselves that everything will be fine when it clearly won't.

Yea Ji eyes the hand that reached out to rest over hers. She stares at it for a second, releasing a bitter smile before she looks up at the owner of the warmth that spread from it.

Soo Hyun lets out a short breath, inching closer beside her on the couch. They were at a private area in a cafe, away from the rest of the prying eyes, sharing a couch and a table filled with sweets and coffee.

It had always been like that. Lunches and dinners in secret, private lounges, and private rooms. They spent precious time together away from the public eye, enjoying the privacy and the freedom they seldom attain. They weren't considered dates, they never acknowledged their meetups as dates. They also never acknowledged what they exactly were.

They weren't lovers, and the deep attraction they had for each other definitely made them more than just friends. All they know is that they enjoy each other's company and that whenever they were with each other they feel this certain type of happiness that they can't explain. They weren't in a relationship, but a part of them---buried deep in an unspoken pile---wanted to be. But they knew it was a luxury they couldn't have.

The first time they saw each other in that pudding commercial, the attraction to each other was undeniable. Shy glances and nervous laughter we're shared all throughout the shoot. They were walking on eggshells around each other, sharing curious looks from the corner of their eyes, smiling to themselves like giddy school kids.

It was new to both of them. Feeling an attraction as strong as the winds of a sunny spring day. It was so strong that every glance felt like a stare, every brush of a finger felt like a warm caress. It was so strong that when he finally gathered all his confidence to ask her to have coffee together, she said yes without even the tiniest bit of hesitation.

They could barely look at each other in the eye, but as the smell of freshly brewed coffee in that small studio cafeteria calmed their nerves and the afternoon transgresses to night, their conversation flowed in a synced momentum. Then it advanced to more coffees in hidden cafes, then it became lunches and dinners to mundane conversations that would last a few hours until the wee hours of dawn when her voice was as deep as the sun buried under the darkness.

But just like pretty things that seem too good to be true, the universe sends you a reality check to bite you in the ass. Telling you that you've been too complacent. That all pretty things must always come from something painful and horrible. Like diamonds morphed under the extreme pressure and painful heat of the ground.

They've been running around the bush for so long, and now it's burning, and it's starting to hurt.

"Mianhae." He gently rubs smalls circles on the back of her palm. He did it gradually, steadily. He was aware of the weariness she felt about intimacy and the sudden touches, and he respected that greatly. He always made sure he was careful around her, not to spook of her of his sudden hand-holding and other forms of relief for his longing of more of her.

"Hmm." She only replies with a hum. She didn't need to ask why he was saying sorry. She knew. It had been a month since she last saw him, filming ads, shows, and whatnot. The longest he's ever had without contacting her. It used to be three days, then sometimes a week. The longest would have been two weeks. Now it was a month.

Time was also a luxury they didn't have. He was a top celebrity, his career rising to the stars. And she was a rookie, a newbie even. She still had to fight tooth and nail to make a name for herself. He would be gone for long, he would disappear, and then at the most unexpected moment, he reappears. That's why she knew they wouldn't work. And he knew it too. And he felt guilty about it every single time.

He couldn't give her one hundred percent of his time. Even if he wanted to, he also didn't know if he had the right. They were just two people who enjoyed spending time with each other, unlabeled. In denial of all the feelings, they refuse to acknowledge because they both knew that they couldn't.

It was a dangerous risk to take. A deadly ocean to jump into. The media will eat them alive, it will feed on every bit of their souls. And she knew, she knew for sure that it will destroy them. And she wasn't sure if what they had was something worth breaking for.

They continue to go in this rollercoaster of internal lies. That it was okay if they go to another dinner together. It was okay to hold her hand because he wanted to. It was okay to stare at his eyes because she thought they were beautiful. It was okay to call her in the middle of the night because he wanted to hear her voice. It was okay to keep pretending that they would work. It was okay, when in fact it wasn't.

She knew there was more to his apology. It was time to stop pretending. It was time to put an end to the charade they have been playing, it was time to put an end to the game that only had losers---no winners. Before it destroys them more than it already is, they have to come to a decision whether to dive into the ocean infested with sharks or stay housed in a boat.

With an unspoken conversation, a decision was made. For the sake of skyrocketing careers, privacy, peace of mind, and unbroken hearts, they had to make the safest decision. To stay housed on a boat. On different boats, destined to sail towards different directions, away from each other. It was safe to stay in one boat, together, but it was safest apart. They couldn't be together because they could never give each other what they deserved.

"I wish I could give you all my time. All my attention. My all. I can't continue disappearing on you, that would be unfair. Seeing you maybe once or twice a month would be enough, for me. But it won't be enough for us." His voice falters, looking at her hand inside his. He lets out a sigh, stroking her hand with utmost gentleness.

"I wish I could give you my all too. Without being terrified of the inevitable. Without the weariness that grows on me in your absence, without the uncertainty." She sighs, looking at her hand in his.

They couldn't bring themselves to look at each other, because if they do, they might just back out and succumb to the cowardice of the feelings that have been demanding to be felt.

"It's time to wake up." She whispers, silent, but loud enough for him to hear. He could only nod his head. What they shared was too perfect, it was a dream. Too perfect for the reality of the world. They've been dreaming together for too long and now they had to wake up.

"Kinchana." He says in a soft voice, gently putting his arm around her shoulder, gently pulling her towards him. She allows his warmth to radiate towards her. She allows him for the last time. She lets out a breath and rests her head against him.

He looks down at her, he lashes long as it brushed her soft skin. He tried to memorize every part of her before he can't see her anymore. He had a feeling this was going to be the last time, and it ached. His eyes land on her lips. He didn't even get to kiss her. He wanted to ask if he could, but he knew he shouldn't. He wanted to tell her they should remain friends, but he doesn't want to. Because he could never live with being just her friend.

He decided not to do anything. Not to say anything. When she slides out of his hold and walks away without looking back, they had both finally woken up from the dream they desperately wanted to stay in.

What happened between them was like fireworks. It sent a rush of sparks all over; it brought colorful luminous light in the dark sky. It provided serenity in the loudness of its existence. Beautiful and electrifying, perfect even. Free. Yet, it was short-lived.

A beautiful dream you have to wake up to.

° ° °

"Annyeong." Soo Hyun politely nods his head, smiling as he greets a familiar face from his new company. He immediately eyes the two cups of iced coffee in the tray he was holding, and he immediately knew who it was for. He grinned, snatching both cups before he enters the room.

Everyone inside greets him, making him smile as he returned the greeting with a courteous bow of the head. It was the very first script reading of his new drama, and a few of the cast members were already there. He politely greets everyone, approaching them with a warm shy smile. He would've shaken their hands, but he was holding two cups of coffee.

He scans around the room until his eyes land on the person he's been meaning to see. His smile only grows wider. His feet glides towards where she was sitting, locking his eyes with hers as she stared at him.

"Hi." He muses with a shy silent voice, gently placing the coffee in front of her. She stares at the cup for a few seconds, before looking up at him.

"It's from the company." He quickly retorts, scratching the back of his nape. When she smiles, a relieved breath escapes from him. He chuckles, taking his seat beside her.

"Komawo." She turns to him in confusion, lifting her brows.

"Boya?"

He chuckles to himself, suddenly shy of the burst of confidence he had. He could barely look at her under his cap, but he did.

"For accepting the role. I'm happy to be working with you." She couldn't help but smile, looking away. She clears her throat and nods her head.

"I'm happy to be working with you too." It was a role worth taking a risk for. It was challenging and difficult, but it was something she was determined to take on. She was always one who loved conquering a challenge. It felt so much better to accomplish something remotely hard compared to something basic.

Before anyone of them could say anything more, the room is immediately filled with the rest of the cast members along with the writer and the director. Greetings, laughter and inaudible chitchat resonate as everyone delves into getting to know each other. Old friends meet again and new friendships form.

The reading was remotely fun. It was one of the best scripts they both have ever read. It was comical and theatrical, yet emotionally deep and engaging. It was a masterpiece. They immediately dive into the dynamics of their characters, getting know their emotions, figuring out how to tell their stories.

Soo Hyun was initially engrossed with his character's selflessness and kindness. The ability to mask one's real emotions in order to protect another's was moving. Yea Ji on the other hand immediately felt the challenge coming her way. Her character was like no other, unique and unnatural. The persona was so strong, powerful, yet vulnerable in deeply boxed silence. Other than that, everyone was hysterical at the vulgar abundance of cursing and innuendos. This was definitely going to be a long ride, not only for the mains for everyone else.

"Thank you, everyone!" The director expresses his gratitude at the end of the reading, a round of applause following suit. He personally gives everyone a warm handshake until he reaches the last two main leads who politely smiled and bowed to him.

"You two, wow! You surprised me so much. You look so good together! It's like you were meant to be in this project with each other." He clasps his hands, admiring the two actors who could only showcase shy smiles and grateful nods.

"I look forward to start filming." He shakes their hands before he proceeds to talk with a few others.

After a few conversations and photo ops, the room had slowly emptied until there was barely a few people left. The director and the writer had left, so we're most if the cast and staff. Soo Hyun was still there in his seat, glancing over Yea Ji who had scanned her copy of the script a few times, marking a few lines that she had found striking.

When she unconsciously looks up, she was surprised to find out that the room was almost empty. The only ones left behind were just her, three of the cast members engulfed in a conversation, some staff and Soo Hyun. She had totally got carried away with reading the script, it was just too inviting.

She scrambles to gather her things, neatly shoving them inside her bag as she stands up. Soo Hyun for the same at the sight of her swift movements. He grabs his belongings in a hash, stumbling over a chair as he stands up.

"Yea Ji-ah." He immediately calls to her, surprised at his own impulse. When she turns to him, bag already in tow, he has a loss for words. He takes in a breath and swallows an invisible lump before he manifests all the confidence he has.

"Do y-you want to have dinner?" She stammers, surprised at his offer. She tries to think whether to decline or accept his offer when he chimes in again.

"You know, to talk about the script. Uhm, get comfortable with each other before we start filming. Uhm, to talk? Just like old times?" He bites his lip after the last sentence. Just like old times. Idiot. He should not have said that. His heart suddenly starts to beat faster, his foot tapping on the floor.

"Okay." Her answer surprises him. He almost stumbles in his footing, making her slightly chuckle.

"We're friends, aren't we? Talking and dinner. It's what friends do." She says. They were friends. Finally, after years, they have found themselves a suitable label. Friends.

She was looking straight at him while he struggles to hold her gaze. She chuckles at his uneasiness. He never changed.

Enclosed by the four walls of the private booth, they enjoy their dinner in peace, away from the public eye. It almost felt like it was just like the old times. But unlike the endless flow of conversations a few years back, this time, the only sound that filled their ears was of silence.

Soo Hyun breaks it first by clearing his throat, making her look up at him. He gulps some water, setting the glass down on the table as he releases a breath, looking straight at her.

"This is so awkward." He says nonchalantly. Eyes wide, and lips in a thin line.

There was a pregnant pause between them as they stared at each other. None of them blinked, or moved, statued in their seats as they looked at each other's equally enticing eyes. When he breaks eye contact, blinking at his painfully dried eyes, she bursts into light chuckles.

"You're good." He laughs, wiping his tears with a table napkin. They look at each other again and laugh, filling the empty booth with the melody of the inherent laughter. It had been so long since they shared a laugh just like this, something they used to share so often.

"It is pretty awkward." Yea Ji admits, chuckling as their laughter slowly dies down.

"It was better when you were flicking my forehead." He muses, suddenly remembering one of their first few encounters over dinner which involved him getting flicked in the forehead and curling up in pain. It was one of the most memorable nights in his life because it ended with him resting his head on her lap as she iced the red mark on his forehead.

They share another banter of laughter with the memory. Just like old times.

"I wonder if it still hurts as much." He coyly suggests, immediately regretting it when she suddenly leans over and flicks his forehead. He lets out a pained gasp, clutching his forehead as they laughed in unison. He tries to endure the pain, smiling as he tried sit straight and lean against the table just as he did the last time. His quivering lips morph into a smile as his tears start to pool in his eyes.

"Oppa, kinchana?" Yea Ji giggles, holding in her laughter. When he couldn't hold it in anymore, they both hilariously cackle. She grabs the table napkin and passes it to him to wipe his tears.

"Glad to know it still hurts the same." He laughs, rubbing his forehead. Locking eyes with each other again, they explode in another wave of loud laughter, shaking their heads.

"How are you?" He says in between pained laughter, finally toppling down the invisible wall that had been built between them. She chuckles, leaning against her seat as she starts talking. He smiles. Because just like old times, the conversations flowed so smoothly and naturally that if the restaurant staff didn't inform them about closing, they wouldn't have left.