#I KNOW NO ONE CARES BUT THIS IS A MOMENTOUS OCCASION | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

helen-with-an-a · 3 days ago

Note

would you consider a part 2 to be the best?

maybe everyone realises reader making an effort and she starts to get closer at team bonding nights etc. then gets angry and thinks everyone will go back to hating her but happy ending

Hiiii - so I hope you enjoy this - I might make another part, I might not - I'm not quite sure

Be The Best part 3

AWFC x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3

Description: R joins the team on a trip to the cinema

Word Count: 4.4k

Deciding what to wear – it seemed like such a simple task, yet it was the one thing consuming your thoughts. It was more than just picking an outfit; it felt like the key to unlocking your entire evening. If you could just figure out what to wear, then maybe everything else would follow. The outfit could set the tone, give you confidence, and make you feel ready to face whatever was coming your way. Or at least, that's what you kept telling yourself, over and over, as if the right choice of clothes could somehow solve all your other problems too. The pressure to get it right was overwhelming, as if choosing the perfect outfit would magically make everything else fall into place.

But it wasn’t even a special occasion – it was just the cinema. A casual, relaxed outing, nothing crazy, nothing formal. Just the cinema. You were going to watch a movie, sit in the dark for a couple of hours, and maybe grab a snack or two. No big deal. It wasn’t like you were going to a fancy dinner or an important meeting. Just the cinema.

And yet, it wasn’t just the cinema. It was the cinema with your friends, work colleagues, people you have definitely bullied at times. You knew you had to strike a delicate balance – casual, but not too casual; relaxed, but still put together. It wasn’t simply about the clothes. It was about perception, about how the others would see you and what they would think. Every choice seemed to carry a weight that extended far beyond fabric and fashion. Would they notice if you were too dressed up, standing out like you were trying too hard? Or would they judge you if you were too laid-back, as if you didn’t care at all?

For most people, it was just a routine outing, something they had done countless times. But for you, it was uncharted territory, an experience you’d only heard about or seen in movies themselves. The idea of sitting in a dark theatre, surrounded by others, watching a story unfold on a massive screen – this was completely new. You didn’t know the unspoken rules, the social cues that everyone else seemed to take for granted. How were you supposed to act? What was the right amount of enthusiasm or restraint?

And what about conversation? That was another minefield altogether. You knew the basic rule: no talking during the film. That part seemed straightforward enough. But what about before the film started, when everyone was finding their seats, shuffling in with popcorn and drinks? Was there a right way to initiate small talk in those brief moments of dimmed lights and hushed voices? Should you comment on the previews, ask about their day, or maybe even crack a light joke to ease any tension? Or would it be better to keep it simple, just a casual greeting before settling into the silence? The uncertainty gnawed at you, making it difficult to predict how you should approach those moments.

And then there was the aftermath, the part that seemed the most daunting of all. What would you talk about after the film ended? How do people usually transition from the intensity of the movie back to regular conversation? Should you start with your thoughts on the film, maybe offer an opinion or ask for theirs? But what if your opinions didn’t match? What if you missed a key detail, or your interpretation was off? Would you come across as clueless or out of touch? You didn’t want to be the one who misread the mood, who either overanalysed every scene or brushed off the film too casually.

What if they didn’t want to talk to you? That fear was the heaviest of all, lurking in the back of your mind and casting a shadow over everything else. Leah had promised that you were welcome to attend the team bonding event, insisting that it would be a good opportunity to relax and connect away from the pressures of the football field. But did they really want you there? Was her invitation genuinely extended on behalf of the entire team, or was it just a polite gesture, something she felt obligated to offer? The thought gnawed at you, making you second-guess every detail of the evening.

You had been so mean to them for so long – too long, really. Screaming had been your only form of communication, your voice always raised, always harsh, leaving no room for warmth or understanding. It was as if yelling was the only way you knew how to convey your thoughts, your frustrations, your demands.

Images of Kyra’s terrified eyes flashed across your mind, haunting you in those quiet moments when the noise of the day had finally died down. You remembered the way she would flinch whenever you called her name, her eyes wide and fearful, as if bracing herself for the inevitable onslaught. It wasn’t just once or twice – no, those moments were all too frequent, etched into the fabric of your daily routine. You could almost hear the echo of your own voice, sharp and cutting, as you berated her for the smallest mistakes, things that now seemed so insignificant in hindsight.

You had changed four times already, each outfit a different attempt to strike the right balance, to somehow capture the perfect blend of casual yet polished, approachable yet confident. Each time you thought you’d found the right look, doubt crept in, nagging at the edges of your mind until you found yourself back at the mirror, scrutinising every detail. First, it was joggers and T-shirt – too casual, you decided, too close to something you’d wear lounging around the house, not quite right for an evening where you wanted to make a better impression. Then came the one dress you owned – simple, comfortable, but suddenly it felt too much, as if you were trying too hard, the exact opposite of what you wanted.

You tried again, opting for a more relaxed outfit, a sweater and a pair of tailored pants, thinking this might strike the right chord. But as you stood there, looking at yourself, the reflection staring back seemed off, like you were wearing someone else’s clothes. You looked like you were going into a business meeting. It didn’t feel like you, or at least not the version of yourself you wanted to present tonight. So you changed again, this time into something more middle-ground, some baggy jeans and a top. But even then, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t quite right.

As you stood there in front of the mirror, surrounded by discarded outfits strewn across the bed, you wondered if maybe the clothes weren’t the real issue. Maybe it was the fact that no matter what you wore, you couldn’t escape the history you carried with you, the reputation you had built, and the uncertainty of whether any outfit could really make a difference in how you were perceived.

Your phone buzzed on the desk, the familiar vibration cutting through the thick fog of your thoughts. The sound startled you, pulling you out of the endless loop of doubt and second-guessing that had been consuming your mind for what felt like hours. You glanced over and saw the screen light up with your alarm, its insistent tone a stark reminder that time had finally run out. There was no more room for deliberation, no more opportunity to agonise over every detail.

It took you longer than expected to get to the cinema, your nerves slowing you down at every turn. The streets seemed unfamiliar, the route winding through a part of town that you rarely ventured into. As you navigated through the maze of side roads and intersections, you couldn't help but notice how different this area felt from your usual haunts. It was quieter, more residential, with an air of nostalgia that hung in the evening breeze. The buildings here had a certain charm, with their old-fashioned storefronts and quaint cafés, each one exuding a sense of history that made you feel like you had stepped back in time.

When you finally arrived at the cinema, it wasn’t what you had expected. You had envisioned something sleek and modern, a polished building with neon lights and a buzzing crowd. Instead, you found yourself standing in front of a place that felt like a hidden gem, tucked away from the busier parts of the city. The cinema was smaller, more intimate, and as you approached, you were struck by its unexpected charm. The exterior was unassuming, with a classic marquee that displayed the film titles in black letters against a white backdrop, the lights around it softly glowing in the dimming light.

Inside, the atmosphere was cozy and inviting, a far cry from the sterile, impersonal theatre you had walked past as a kid. It was cute – more retro than you had anticipated, with an ambiance that immediately put you at ease. The plush blue seats lined the aisles, each one a deep, rich shade that contrasted beautifully with the cream-colored walls. The seats looked like they had been carefully maintained, their upholstery soft and welcoming, as if they had been chosen for comfort rather than just practicality. The walls, with their creamy tones, added to the sense of warmth, their subtle detailing suggesting a bygone era when cinemas were more than just places to watch a film – they were places to experience something special.

"Hey, I'm glad you could make it," Kim said softly when she saw you arrive, her voice warm and welcoming. There was something genuine in her tone, a sincerity that caught you slightly off guard. It was as if she truly meant it, as if your presence was something she had been hoping for rather than just politely acknowledging. Her smile was gentle, her eyes reflecting a kindness that made you pause for a moment, unsure of how to respond.

You had been so wrapped up in your own anxieties, so convinced that your arrival would be met with indifference – or worse, thinly veiled discomfort – that her friendly greeting threw you off balance. For a split second, you hesitated, searching for the right words, something casual and appropriate to say in return. But nothing came out. Instead, you grimaced awkwardly back at her, your lips twisting into a half-hearted smile that you knew looked forced.

It was as though your body had betrayed you, refusing to cooperate in this moment of unexpected kindness. You could feel the tension in your shoulders, the way your jaw tightened as you struggled to mirror the warmth in Kim’s voice with an expression that didn’t come naturally to you. Inside, you were cringing at your own inability to respond with the same ease, the same natural friendliness that Kim seemed to embody so effortlessly.

Your grimace felt clumsy, a stark contrast to her welcoming demeanour. It was as if all the insecurities you had been trying to suppress suddenly bubbled up to the surface, making it impossible to relax and just be in the moment. You worried that Kim could see through your awkwardness, that she might pick up on the discomfort you were trying so hard to mask. Would she interpret it as reluctance? As a sign that you didn't really want to be there? The thought made your stomach twist, amplifying the awkwardness of the situation.

But Kim, ever gracious, didn’t let it faze her. She continued to smile, her eyes softening with understanding, as if she sensed your unease but chose not to dwell on it. Her kindness was unwavering, a quiet reassurance that perhaps, despite your own self-doubt, you were more welcome than you realised. “I think you’re the last one to arrive.”

“Sorry, it took longer than I thought to get here,” you said, your voice tinged with an apologetic edge as you finally caught up with Kim. You tried to sound casual, but the nerves were evident in the way you fumbled with your words. Your gaze flickered around the room, searching for something to latch onto to avoid the awkwardness of the moment.

“No worries,” Kim replied with a reassuring smile, her tone light and understanding. “Was there much traffic?”

“Uh, no,” you began, your voice wavering slightly. You cleared your throat, trying to steady your nerves. “I mean, there wasn’t much traffic. I just – I've, I’ve just not been here before, so …” You trailed off, the words sputtering out like a car sputtering to a halt. The sentence hung in the air, unfinished and awkward.

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and discomfort. It wasn’t just the unfamiliarity of the location that threw you off; it was the whole social aspect of the evening that felt out of place.

“Hey, you came!” Leah shouted from across the lobby, her voice ringing out with a burst of enthusiasm that cut through the low murmur of conversation. The suddenness of her greeting was a relief, taking the spotlight off Kim and saving her from having to respond to your earlier, awkward attempt at small talk. Leah’s energy seemed to fill the space, her bright smile and warm manner making it clear that she was genuinely pleased to see you.

“Hi,” you whispered back, the word barely escaping your lips as you struggled to match her enthusiasm with your own shaky confidence. You felt a pang of awkwardness, compounded by the realisation that you were still adjusting to the surroundings

Leah, unfazed by your quiet response, continued with her upbeat tone. “Do you want to grab some snacks before you go in?”

Snacks? The word hit you like a revelation. You had always thought of the cinema as a place where people just sat in darkened rooms and watched movies, perhaps grabbing a quick drink from a vending machine if they were really desperate. But the idea of having snacks felt almost revolutionary. The concept of indulging in something edible during a film was so foreign to you that you blinked in surprise, momentarily caught off guard.

You looked around, taking in the lobby’s setup with new eyes. It was bustling with people moving toward a counter where a variety of snacks were displayed. The counter was an array of tempting options: large tubs of buttery popcorn and colourful sweets. The whole scene seemed like an elaborate concession to comfort, something you had never considered part of the cinema experience before.

Alessia, who had joined Leah in welcoming you, turned to you with a warm smile. “What’s your go-to?” she asked, her tone inviting and friendly. Her curiosity seemed genuine, and it made you feel a bit more at ease.

You hesitated, glancing at the array of snacks before you, feeling a bit overwhelmed. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your uncertainty evident. The variety of choices seemed almost overwhelming, and you weren’t sure where to start.

Alessia laughed lightly, a sound that was both comforting and disarming. “Ah, a ‘see how you feel’ kind of person,” she said, nodding knowingly as if she understood your approach. Her laughter and casual attitude made it clear that she wasn’t judging you, but rather finding your indecision endearing.

“Um, no,” you replied, feeling a bit embarrassed as you tried to explain. “I’ve not been to the cinema before.” The admission felt awkward, and you braced yourself for whatever reaction might follow.

Alessia stared at you, her eyes widening in shock. “What do you mean?” she asked, disbelief evident in her voice. “Surely you went growing up? I know we don’t have much time now, but still.”

You shifted uncomfortably, the weight of your admission feeling heavier under Alessia’s surprised gaze. “Uh, no. My, uh, my dad said it was a waste of time,” you said, your voice trailing off. The memory of your father’s dismissive attitude made you feel vulnerable, as if you were exposing a part of your past that was uncomfortable to revisit.

Alessia’s surprise was palpable, her mouth forming a small “O” as she processed what you had just revealed. Her eyes widened, clearly taken aback by the information. It was as if the notion of someone never having been to the cinema before was a concept so foreign that it took her a moment to fully grasp it. Her reaction was a blend of shock and genuine curiosity, making you feel even more self-conscious.

You could feel your face flush with embarrassment as you watched her reaction unfold. The realisation that you had just divulged a personal detail about your upbringing – a detail that seemed to have left such an impact on Alessia – made you mentally kick yourself. Why couldn’t you have just gone along with her question, given a generic answer, and avoided this awkward revelation altogether?

As Alessia’s initial shock gave way to a more empathetic expression, you mentally berated yourself for not just playing along. She could almost hear the internal dialogue in your head: “Why did I have to be so honest? Why couldn’t I just say I like popcorn or candy and leave it at that?” You bit your lip, hard, gasping slightly at the familiar pain.

But as you watched Alessia’s expression soften into one of understanding, you also noticed the subtle shift in her stance. She seemed genuinely concerned and determined to make sure you felt comfortable. Her initial shock had transformed into a compassionate response, as if she was now more committed than ever to ensuring that your first cinema experience was enjoyable and welcoming.

“Well, usually I go for some popcorn,” Alessia said with a casual shrug, her tone easy and conversational. “But I decided on Pick ‘n’ Mix today.” She paused, as if considering the options and her own choice. Her eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief and excitement, reflecting a genuine enthusiasm for the variety of treats on offer. “If you get some popcorn, we could share?” she suggested, her offer smooth and natural, as though it were the most effortless thing in the world.

“Y-you want to share?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. The shock in your tone was palpable, your words tinged with disbelief. The notion that Alessia, someone who had been so kind and welcoming, would offer to share something as simple as popcorn with you felt almost surreal. The gesture seemed magnified by your own insecurities and the weight of your past interactions with her

You stood there, momentarily taken aback, struggling to reconcile Alessia’s warmth with the harshness you remembered from your own behaviour. It was as if her kindness had momentarily suspended reality, making you question whether you deserved such a generous offer. You had been so accustomed to keeping others at a distance, to reacting defensively or with hostility, that the idea of someone reaching out to you with genuine friendliness felt foreign and unexpected.

“Of course, come on, let’s get some popcorn,” Alessia said, her smile broadening into a welcoming expression that seemed to dispel any lingering awkwardness. Her enthusiasm was infectious, a burst of positive energy that made you feel more at ease despite your earlier reservations.

Without missing a beat, she reached out and gently grabbed your elbow, her touch both firm and reassuring.

The film wasn’t necessarily your choice, but as it played out on the screen, you found yourself increasingly engrossed. You never really had time for films – growing up, your father had made you watch old matches and now, as an adult, you did the same. There was something about the action, the romance, the unexpected twist at the end that drew you in and kept you close.

Sitting wedged in between Alessia and Leah wasn’t too bad either. In fact, it turned out to be one of the more pleasant surprises of the evening. Alessia, seated to your right, had a laugh that was genuinely infectious. Each time something amusing or surprising happened on the screen, her laughter would bubble up – a warm, genuine sound that was impossible not to be affected by. It was the kind of laugh that seemed to fill the room with a sense of shared joy, creating a subtle but tangible bond between you and the rest of the audience. Her enthusiasm was both comforting and uplifting, making the film experience feel even more enjoyable.

Leah, on your left, contributed to the cozy atmosphere with her own unique presence. She kept up a quiet commentary throughout the film, her murmurs barely audible but filled with insightful observations and humorous remarks. Her comments were like little nuggets of insight, offering a fresh perspective on the film's twists and turns. You had expected that her talking might become distracting or irritating, but instead, it had the opposite effect. Leah’s commentary felt like a private conversation that added another layer to your viewing experience, one that was both engaging and endearing.

Rather than finding Leah's remarks bothersome, you found yourself appreciating them. Her thoughtful, almost reverent musings about the film’s plot and characters added depth to your own viewing experience. It was as though she was sharing a part of her own enthusiasm and understanding with you, making the film feel more interactive and immersive. Each comment was delivered with a subtlety that ensured it didn't disrupt your enjoyment, but rather complemented it, adding an extra dimension to your engagement with the story.

The combination of Alessia’s lively, infectious laughter and Leah’s quiet, reflective commentary created a perfect balance that made sitting between them a surprisingly enjoyable experience. It turned out to be a blend of energy and insight that enhanced the film’s appeal, making the whole experience feel more communal and enjoyable.

“Oh, my god. That was so good!” Stina cheered as you all left the theater, her excitement practically radiating from her. Her blonde ponytail whipped from side to side with each enthusiastic hop down the steps, creating a lively and contagious energy that seemed to spread through the group. Stina’s reaction was a burst of pure, unfiltered enthusiasm, her voice ringing with genuine excitement about the film you had just seen.

Conversations about favourite scenes and surprising plot twists began to bubble up, each person eager to share their thoughts and opinions on the film. It was as if Stina’s initial reaction had unlocked a wave of shared enthusiasm that everyone was eager to join in on.

“Yeah, that twist at the end was incredible!” Steph chimed in, her voice laced with amazement. “I didn’t see that coming at all.” The sentiment was echoed by several others, their faces animated with excitement as they recounted their favourite moments. The film had clearly struck a chord with the group, and the sense of collective satisfaction was palpable. Had this been what you were missing out on every time you declined an invite?

Before you could get too far into your head, Kim came up behind you, her shoulder gently nudging yours in a friendly, almost reassuring manner. The touch was light but deliberate, a small gesture that drew you back from your swirling thoughts and into the present moment. Her presence was warm and grounding, a reminder that you were part of a group, and her approachable demeanor made it easier to transition from the excitement of the film to the next part of the evening.

“So, what did you think?” Kim asked, her voice filled with genuine interest. There was a subtle anticipation in her tone, an expectation that your opinion would contribute to the collective conversation.

“I liked the film. It was very good,” you responded, your voice steady but still tinged with the residual excitement from the movie. You were still processing the film’s impact and the lively discussion that had followed, and Kim’s question provided a moment to articulate your enjoyment. It felt good to share your positive reaction, to be part of the enthusiastic response that had characterised the group’s reactions.

Kim’s eyes brightened at your response, and she smiled with a hint of mischief. “Good enough to come to dinner with us?” she asked, her tone light and inviting.

You froze for a moment, a sudden wave of uncertainty washing over you. Did Kim really want you to join them for dinner? The question seemed to echo in your mind, stirring up a flurry of anxious thoughts. The idea of continuing the evening with the group was both inviting and intimidating, and you couldn’t help but question whether you truly belonged in this social setting.

A twinge of apprehension gnawed at you as you considered the possibility of making a mistake. What if you inadvertently did something wrong or said something out of turn? The fear of misstepping or failing to live up to the group’s expectations loomed large. You imagined potential scenarios where your actions might not align with the group’s dynamics, leading to awkwardness or discomfort.

And what if you got angry with them again? What if you ruined the night? What if you did something wrong and they kicked you off the team? A tight knot of anxiety bubbled up in your chest, making it difficult to fully embrace the invitation. The prospect of making a good impression and avoiding past mistakes felt like a significant challenge. Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself that Kim’s invitation was a gesture of goodwill, a sign that your presence was valued and welcomed.

“Umm, yeah, yeah, I think so,” you said, your voice gaining confidence as you spoke. “If that’s ok with you?” The question was as much about seeking reassurance as it was about confirming your participation. It was a polite gesture, ensuring that your presence was welcome and that you weren’t imposing on the group’s plans.

Kim’s smile widened, and she gave you a reassuring nod. “Absolutely, it’s totally okay,” she said warmly. “We’d love to have you join us. It’s just a casual dinner, nothing too formal. We’re all going to this great place nearby – should be a lot of fun!”

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4linos · 2 days ago

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how they ask to marry you.

stray kids maknae line x gn!reader

synopsis: how stray kids maknae line proposes to you. (˶˃⤙˂˶)

wc: 1187. (hyung line ver.)

HAN.. jisung had always been an ideal partner; you had trouble communicating at first, but you managed to work things out. he would always prioritize you and make sure you two were happy, and he would never want to sleep knowing that either were upset. he had a good relationship with your family, they accepted him right away and treated him like their own. so, when he got the perfect engagement ring for the proposal, he went straight to your parents to ask for your hand in marriage. he asked if he could do something a little more private with just the two of you, and they instantly agreed.he would set up a little picnic with lots of flowers, a plate of treats, and of course, the ring—which he would keep hidden from you—and everything would be perfect. he would bring the ring out and pop the question as soon as you finished reading the letter he wrote to you, saying, "you make me feel like I can be myself, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you." Will you marry me?” he had been rather anxious, but in his own way, you said "yes" right away.

felix.. was a friend since childhood who held feelings for you. he had been waiting for you to come around while watching you date other people. one night, he came to you very drunk and confessed to you that he was deeply in love with you. you two spoke after his hangover, started dating and have been inseparable ever since.

felix starts off by jokingly mentioning that he is organizing something big for a mutual friend. he’d give hidden clues like, "I've been helping in organizing a truly memorable occasion for someone I care about.“ he might act really enthusiastic about it, grabbing your attention, but you would still assume it was for your friend. felix would pretend that everything is perfectly arranged for your mutual friend, making sure you are aware of every aspect of the "proposal" day. he would even ask you to help in setting up the "proposal"'s intended venue, which would be at the park. felix would go above and beyond to ensure that the everything is beautiful. felix would take you and your friend to the location where everything is happening on the day. you would be certain that the proposal would take place here after noticing details like candles, flowers, and a beautifully decorated space. Your friend may even be carrying a ring box or getting ready to say something sincere but acting a little uneasy. You would now be certain that this is for your friend because everything appears to be perfect for them. while your friend is getting ready, felix would make sure they are the center of attention. he’d nod subtly to let them to begin. all of a sudden... felix would interrupt just as your friend was about to say something. “Hold on, wait, wait! before you continue…”, and felix takes a step forward as everyone turns to watch him. he holds your hand and says, "I couldn't wait any longer," while grinning broadly at you. It is my turn to ask you this.” suddenly the candles, flowers, and romantic ambiance all made sense at once. getting down on one knee, he asks, "Will you marry me?" while pulling out the ring. you would be totally clueless. the entire time, you were oblivious that this was for you. Then, with a quiet laugh, felix would clarify, “I had to trick you into believing it was for someone else! I wanted to make sure I got the best reaction from you because you're constantly so concerned about other people's happiness” your friends would begin applauding and cheering while you were still recovering from the shock, and felix would make sure you were overcome with affection. you would experience a range of feelings, including surprise, happiness, and perhaps even a small amount of distress at not seeing it coming. but as you both enjoy the moment together, surrounded by love and friends, felix’s kind, sincere side would come through.

seungmin.. when you two started dating, it took him a while to even tell his own members. This wasn't just because he had been possessive of you; it was also because he was afraid that your relationship might be exposed to the public by accident. It took him a while to even get through to you because, even though you didn't mind his job, you expressed to him just how much you loved your job as a journalist, and he knew that you would be fired right away if anything leaked. so when the time came to finally propose to you he’d done it in a very secret way, without the knowledge of anybody else. seungmin would invite you to a quiet evening at home nothing too flashy, just a warm, cozy environment where you both can relax together, you’d walk in to see how romantic it looked, with white petals everywhere and small candles that lit up the dark space. during a quiet moment he would give you a letter that would eventually disclose his genuine intentions. It would begin with a straightforward statement like "I love you for a thousand reasons, but this is the most important one." after that, he might pen a really intimate piece on your relationship, including significant events from your past. he would finish the letter by "I would like to build our future together, share stories and create memories with you for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?” after you finished reading the letter, seungmin would ask you to marry him and present you with the ring. he would add, "I can't wait to begin the next chapter with you, forever," as he planted a kiss on your lips.

I.N.. after hyunjin accidentally told you about jeongin’s huge crush on you, you were the first to make a move on him. despite being upset with hyunjin for a bit, jeongin was more than happy that you two were finally able to become the couple he had been dreaming about. they weren't shocked at all when he announced to the group that he was going to pop the question. they started helping him immediately. he followed chan’s advice and wrote a brand-new song. he was able to write a song that communicated his love for you with the help of the other members. as it builds to the last question, the song "our story" would recount the history of your relationship, emphasizing important times you've had together, both the small and the major turning points. he would express his love and want to stay with you forever in an honest and true manner using straightforward language. something created from the heart, a melody that echoes the promise of eternity, this song would seem like a personal gift. It would be performed by him after dinner, with a soft instrumental accompaniment, setting the perfect scene for a private proposal.

—

nini’s notes 110624

it’s a tough day but stay strong! 💪 it’s not over, never give up.

* here’s maknae line proposals because posting on here gives me a little at least a little stress relief 😀. not proofread ‼️ so if you find a mistake i’m sorry lol*

asks are always open if you have a question, request, or concern!

- 🎀

#stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfic #stray kids maknae line #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #skz x y/n #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x gn reader #skz soft hours #skz fluff #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz scenarios #stray kids fic #stray kids x gender neutral reader #skz x you #skz fanfic

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quitepossiblyknot · 2 days ago

Text

"quantum leap exchanged for a decent heading" - by Ekow Arthur $prismelanin *

Singularity, in carrying a single image, distal, gripping

Finger dithers, it soon is vestige, fits to what's augmented

An authentic position in getting the picture, switch first

Reaching the village, lungs filling, swelling of this worth

Sovereign, no longer impoverished, the coverage of what governs mental isn't obscured, what knowledge is stronger, pouring into her fixed cure

Ensure the lineage, to see a future with ya girl, leverage, which swirls a galaxy

Beginning of friends naturally, connection is a tapestry

Fist twirls to remove monitoring spirits, clearing the air, the feeling is weird of conquering appearances

Mask off, facing demons, slaying even ghosts, the impossible was finished

Shifting paradigm, pair of eyes remote view, paraphrase, phase loop, to go through a portal sorta scared

Time dilated, immortal here, all praise to free quince

Distorted lair, transported pair to a marble square where every fractal is a warp to stare in hyperspace

Hyper plane, parallel, imposition for the Cartesian points, important shares, no one cares about Elysian voiced, for the field is solely ours

So we scour to know da hours are nanoseconds, canon to apprehension, can't go to where average tech is

Fixture to flesh is atoms, Madame, over here we electron scattering, select how matter is, weapons shattered beyond fragmented, incandescent to select now

Gathering, reported fear so I recorded chairs in vestigial, preliminary, interosseous ligament to visual, isn't scary anymore

Marbling for every floor, figured out what you took my hand for, as tours of the universe in hyperdimension extended to this moment

Had to extrapolate at rates to gather the components

High off ya love, this is what a dose is

Every extract of channeling is a dosage

Deep conversations was the doses

Most is asleep to frequencies, however we entered where the frequenting of these speeds quantify as decent leaps

Quanta in the fourth

Marbles for a knob, remember all the keys I gave you, now we're at the door

Don't marvel at the stars, our ancestors stuck together for this momentous occasion, we made it here after all

Didn't make sense how you mentioned friends, it didn't connect then, koan to Zen when presented a message in text, lexicon of a kiss

Baby, you upper echelon with a twist

How do explain a rabbit hole and a trip?

The signet ring with its symbol evolved our subconscious to dissolve and what appeared before us was Cygnus Wall

Akashic records whispers tall, wherewithal of a knuckle to get this far

How'd we get here? At the knick of time when we hit 8 ball, enriched which corridor, to sink, installed, what you're afraid of is bliss with pause

It hits different when it's within walls, Richter, scale

If you cared as much as I do, next flight moves, dare light groove faster than our frequency

Frequenting your virgin Mary, symbolism of 8,000 nerves, masonry isn't scary in instances as profound as her depths, bending space to curve what's left of gravity

We slowed it down enough to access what would rapidly get us right, universe to verses, candidly in sight a momentum to where the hand is south of horizon like

Pisces on the cusp of Aries, prime meridian of eye, sine to tangent, wavicle for quantum slide, time of my life

Counted each variant to account for a tear in the sky, maybe anti-vertex was an exaggeration of why the two of us are inseparable to a vibe

Twin flames at the decan of Aquarius, the carriers of dragonflies to compare the signs is ecliptic to this disc inside what's squared to this square of mine

Circling four corners, boundaries made for borders, incantations as brick & mortar, stabilizing finally from dilation that distorted

Transposition of Rick & Morty, rook is little miss bun cake and Capricorn is king, my 10th house at the brink, vertex to the west for sagittal in plane, clear ya sinus just to think, Sagittarius in stellium, tropical to blink

Alchemizing helium, neon in the pink

Castor oil topical, told you to make room for the illogical

Eons in the brink, heaven too shall pass so I had gamma rays to waves, distinct to a particle

Magic in a computation, forwarded an article

Arxvis

Jargon might not be completely understood, knock on wood

Phase lock to the west, what's next to Scorpio is mood to the oud, so what's good?

Bear with me while Virgo is sigmoid to the hood, colon, ratio of unit for a move, we're growing in guiding

Souls realizing they're healthy for each other is a helping of another in the other world

Otherworldly motherboard, matrices to cover pearls

Never cast to swine

Axis vertebra, reverse the weight, reverberates to match divine

At the center of a nebula, don't you dare ask me the time

Unexpected brat fell in my lap, so now I share the shine, justified emanation, explanation for the beacon, steradian was seeking me in a sequence of preparing this to prime vertical, working both Leo and Cancer

Neo in answer, timeless is where passion and joy find themselves carried away

Yod of orb, five on the face of die, northeast to a trace of nigh

Gemini, my dear

Nadir

I fear we got too close

Closing this portal for the portico, the sorta soul to program hematite

Even I make mistakes, seems polite to forewarn

Energetic signature to your warm is more for what's universal

Taurus at the midheaven, northeast to our core

Hopefully you've caught on... How many months til u get it? Need four more? 👀

Toroid in her for sure

Two things for certain, working to unite entails that inner workings serve a purpose and the circling of purple is what works in stating service

Coloring uncovering auric field to serving what's magnetic in electric flux, who knew prime meridian was circuits to computation of selected touch to let in lovingly what a seed speaks to breed kinks

Ovulation

Contemplating higher realms, she's drawn to how I'm constellation, now we delve to discovering what it takes

Angstrom to oersted, undulate

Interatomic distances, forehead kisses, misses is instinctive with conscious decisions, skipping stones to asteroid belts, extract voids well enough to living poem, neutrino entelechy, spreading both her cheeks between a smile and the webbing

Sticky situation thinking of a title for the heading

Blogging something nuanced to seeing where she is headed

Felatio is head if sentence is in an ending, period near Sirius is Ceres at the wedding

Intentions as pure is this is seeing where I'm heading

Feeding curiosity to recently a sending of right ascension while ascending

I don't know how to express a micro-dose, my ascendent sign is your rise, what arises in a quest is how the best is face-to-face and why I'm tending to a poetic styling, the emphasis is finding out directly

Even if I'm teacher it doesn't mean I don't stand correcting, to plans erecting

Planets projecting what a section of an upgrade is, what phase is lunar to the sooner that we get it

** her favorite underdog

* for now, I only have love to give...

Quitepossiblyknot ©

The Cygnus Wall

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lisbeth-kk · 8 hours ago

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Sherlock fandom.

I was determined to write the fluffiest flash fiction ever after the devastating events of late, but my muse decided that you'll need tissues instead. Apologies, but I think it'll have a cathartic effect.

Let Me Comfort You

John’s ascending steps speak volumes to Sherlock. They are heavier than normal. Something must have happened at work. His watch tells him that John is ninety-five minutes early. He never leaves before his shift is over, unless Sherlock texts or shows up with a case.

The moment John appears in the doorway, Sherlock knows. A patient has died, and not an old one. Melissa, six years old, leukaemia. They had hoped she would make it through the year.

One last Christmas.

He’s in front of John before he collapses in Sherlock’s arms. John sobs like his heart is breaking, and Sherlock guesses that it literally is. The girl had been so brave, according to John. He had encountered her when her parents took her to A&E before they knew about her condition. A broken wrist and a cut over her eyebrow, which John mended easily.

Melissa had asked for him when she came back for her treatment. John represented safety, and he was allowed to visit her by the haematologist-oncologist.

“I’m sorry, John,” Sherlock murmurs and kisses his temple. “It went faster than expected?”

“Yeah,” John says, his voice is rough. “Infection.”

Sherlock tightens his grip and strokes John’s back.

“What can I do?” he asks, hoping there is something that can ease John’s despair.

“You’re doing it, Sherlock,” John replies and buries his face in the crook of Sherlock’s neck.

It’s a bit uncomfortable, since John’s face is damp with flowing tears, but Sherlock couldn’t care less. He’s determined to endure whatever John needs him to. His throat thickens and he has to clench his jaw to keep from crying too. He needs to be strong, just as John has been for Sherlock so many times. It is his turn now.

“Bath?” he suggests.

“Christ, that would be wonderful,” John sighs.

Relieved, Sherlock steers John to sit in his chair, while he sorts out the bath.

***

Sherlock fills the tub, adds vetiver-scented soap, and finds four jar candles. He places two of them at the far end of the tub and the other two on the sink. The flames flicker a bit when he whirls around to gather soft towels, their pyjamas bottoms, t-shirts, and clean pants. Before he returns to the sitting room, he turns off the light, so that the candles are the only light source in the bathroom.

John is resting his head on the back of his chair, his eyes closed, but he isn’t sleeping. Sherlock strokes his hair and beckons him to come with him. John walks like a zombie, and even lets Sherlock undress him. Sherlock’s heart clenches. John’s clearly out of sorts when he’s this pliant.

John makes no effort to get into the tub, and Sherlock strips quickly, seats himself and reaches for John to help him in. The deep sigh John releases when he’s enveloped in Sherlock’s arms, makes Sherlock almost euphoric with relief.

“This is just what I needed, Sherlock,” John murmurs after a few minutes of tranquil silence. “You’re lovely.”

Sherlock feels his cheeks flush, and not from the hot water. John’s praise always does that.

He starts humming and isn’t paying much mind to what tune exactly.

“Bach’s Lullaby,” John murmurs. “Are you going to sing me to sleep, love?”

“I wasn’t aware actually,” Sherlock responds quietly. “Would you want me to sing to you?”

“Always,” John assures him.

He turns his head and kisses Sherlock’s cheek.

“I love you,” Sherlock says softly and bends down to catch John’s lips.

“Me too, sweetheart. So much,” John whispers.

He starts to tremble and hides his face in Sherlock’s neck again.

“Shh, my heart. I’ve got you,” Sherlock soothes.

He rarely uses endearments, John’s name is enough, but this occasion clearly calls for it. John holds on to him for dear life, and Sherlock starts humming again. This relaxes John considerably, and Sherlock asks if John has any song requests.

“You don’t have to,” he mumbles.

“Let me comfort you, John. Please.”

When John stays silent, Sherlock starts to sing. He knows it’s one of John’s favourites. One that’s soothed him on more than one occasion.

When you're weary Feeling small When tears are in your eyes I will dry them all

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

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @helloliriels

@raina-at @meetinginsamarra @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitch-adler @topsyturvy-turtely

@jolieblack @peanitbear @phoenix27884 @bs2sjh @brandiwein1982

@meandhisjohn @a-victorian-girl @221beloved @ninasnakie @shy-bi-letsfuckingdie

@7-percent @lhrinchelsea @missdeliadilisblog @salmonsown @oetkb12

@jawnscoffee @gay-ass-bitch @acumberlockedgirl @willamholmeswatson @whatnext2020

@mydogwatson @redmondcollege @thegildedbee @elizabethhood @xmengal03

@ilovegayangels @riversong912 @givemesherbet-blog-blog @couldbecannibal @2old2b-fangirl

@dw91165

(Tell me if you want to be tagged or removed from the list)

#flash fiction friday #sherlock fandom #sherlock #john watson #johnlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock fanfic #FFF278 #singing in the candelight

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izvmimi · 3 days ago

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cw: another wishful ending to bnha. about shigaraki but mostly from izuku's perspective. hint of a future healed!shigaraki x reader.

Izuku is not sure what he should wear for an occasion like this.

Between the grueling, far too hands-on curriculum of becoming a hero, becoming the greatest hero Japan had to offer, and the aftermath of meta war that felt like ages (and probably aged him too), it was all too easy for him to forget that he is, in fact, still a teenager.

And a teenager doesn’t exactly always know what to wear when going to decide the fate of another man’s life.

Despite the fact that he’s pretty sure Hawks doesn’t actually care what he looks like at this point, Inko is kind enough to iron a suit for him and adjust the now shaggy-when-regrown mop of green curls into something professional once he’s dressed. She pats his face, letting her hand rest on the scarred side of his cheek.

“I think it will go well,” she reassures him, even though she can sense that he’s nervous. “You’re doing a good thing.”

Izuku is mostly sure, possibly 99% sure, but the 1% of uncertainty dissipates with his mother’s words. He nods.

“Right.”

—

About 5 months have passed since the culmination of the meta war. Owing to the valiant efforts of the people, with Quirks and without them, the guidance of multiple construction companies (including the Urarakas who have made not shy of hundreds of millions during this time), and heavy political support from local and abroad, the city is mostly rebuilt, to the point that it would be hard to believe that so much was destroyed in such a short time ago in recent history.

Izuku finds his way to the new Hero commission and stops at the front desk to present identification but is quickly passed through with a big smile from the security guard’s face. It’s still hard for him to get used to this treatment, but he remains polite and bows before making his way down to the conference room in the email.

A formal Hero Commission email addressed to around ten people, give or take, and he’s probably the last to arrive of those few, all of them seated at a round table once he arrives. Panicking a bit, he checks the time but before he can look at his phone, Hawks takes a moment to give him a once over and then stifle a laugh at his outfit.

“Now, don’t you look dapper?” he jokes.

Hawks is wearing a fitted suit himself, but he’s now president of the Hero Commission so it’s not out of the ordinary. All Might, offering a pleasant but weary smile next to him, is also dressed up, but he has been a fan of fitted suits in the public eye recently anyway so that’s not strange. Best Jeanist is… well, Best Jeanist… and perfectly coiffed and styled in… denim jeans. Mirio, however, is dressed down in a plaid button down and plain slacks, and bounces up to greet him pulling him to sit by him, Nejire, and Tamaki.

“Nice threads, Izuku!” Mirio cheers, while Nejire pulls at the sleeve and asks him if he bought it at the thrift store. Tamaki stares at a wall, having hit capacity for the number of people in the room.

Izuku wasn’t the last person here because Mirko and Katsuki squabble loudly as they finally enter the room, with Edgeshot in his diminutive form and difficult to see upfront trailing close behind, possibly annoyed (you couldn’t tell from this distance). Mirko is wearing athletic wear and Katsuki is wearing-

A suit.

Katsuki and Izuku lock eyes and the recognition sets in at the same time. His cheeks turn red and then he looks away before shuffling into his seat.

Once everyone has been settled and assistants have brought in coffee and pastries, Hawks finally moves to the first order of business.

A hologram shows in the center of the room with two images - one of Tomura Shigaraki taken as an aerial shot while he was screaming, in the midst of the meta war, and just beside it, an image of Tenko Shimura taken just a few days ago, at a construction site using his Decay quirk for demolition as part of a community service effort, quirk disabling wristlets in full display with the ability to be toggled on and off. The contrasts between these two images are evident - the rage distorting the young man’s features as Shigaraki as he is positioned to destroy and kill, unkempt white hair flowing in the air and a small serenity emanating from the young man’s visage as Tenko as he works to disintegrate rubble and clear land for reconstruction, dark hair cropped short and tousled slightly by fall breeze. If you look closely there is a hint of a smile in the second image, and fear in the eyes of the first.

Two very different men.

“We’re here to discuss our next steps with Shig-, Tenko Shimura.”

All Might lets out a breath no one knew he was holding. Izuku wonders if it’s by All Might’s request that Hawks has used his correct name, perhaps to honor his mentor and Tenko’s grandmother. He makes a mental note to always do the same.

Katsuki keeps his lips pressed into a straight line and doesn’t say a word; Izuku doesn’t blame him, and in another circumstance would have never imagined being willing to sit for this conversation so easily, but he also appreciates that Katsuki is present for this vote at the very least.

“Let’s go through the facts.”

Hawks, pacing around the room, recounts the actions of the man once known as Shigaraki Tomura, as well as delineates what actions are his specifically and what actions were in conjunction with All For One. He shares testimonials from various psychiatrists who have worked with Tenko in this short period of rehabilitation before this discussion and the people who have worked with him on community service. He provides excerpts from social media influencers as well as political and religious opinions.

The case is long and drawn out and by the time he is done, Mirko is yawning loudly and Mirio is trying very hard not to fall asleep. Aizawa, however, is asleep in the corner of the room, having shown up dead last, and not interested in a word being said.

A vote is meant to be cast by the end of today. Izuku wonders if Tenko is on the other side of that door, waiting for his fate to be decided.

If no one can agree to rehabilitate him, he will most likely go to jail, deprived of the ability to use any Quirks possibly for the rest of his life. His best chance is now, as Izuku does not imagine any turnover in power will allow him as much amnesty as the current group here.

Izuku has spent the last few months pleading to the Hero Commission to consider his proposal, using the very fact that Tenko relinquished his OFA-related Quirks back to him almost immediately as a perfect example.

Tenko did give his inner child a second chance, and Tenko did fight back. He just needed help.

“All motions to go forth with a continued rehabilitation plan, please say-”

Mirko raises her hand immediately, interrupting.

“Aye.”

Placing both her feet on the edge of the table, she defends herself before anyone can ask.

“If he tries some shit again, I get a rematch,” she says, grinning. All Might gives her a pleased look but says nothing.

Aizawa chimes in from inside his sleeping bag.

“Aye.”

While Izuku’s eyes widen, Katsuki finally interjects.

“Have you guys forgotten this man killed me?”

“And lifted you up with his toes.” Mirko adds. “But you lived, didn’t you, pipsqueak?” she says, grinning.

Best Jeanist, not at all pleased by the joke, raises his hand.

“Nay. This is a ridiculous idea.”

“What’s ridiculous is your outfits but we don’t-”

All Might clears his throat. “Aye.”

Endeavor takes a look at All Might, crossing his arms over his chest. His retirement is still hot off the presses, and he chooses to take a step back here too.

“Abstain.”

Izuku’s heart is racing and he’s not exactly sure why. Part of this waiting period involves Izuku keeping an eye on Tenko and in repeated conversations, he has always gotten the sense that Tenko could change but his hope had been tempered. The truth was, as much as he wanted to save Tenko, a small part of him was still a little angry for the harm he did, and he imagined that if he felt that way, it was only a fraction of what the public and his peers must feel.

But today, there seems to be a chance.

“Aye!” Mirio and Nejire say in unison and Tamaki quickly follows up.

Katsuki rises suddenly and leaves the room and while Izuku wants to follow him, he knows that it’s a waste of time.

That’s a problem for days to come.

“And why exactly are we forgiving him?” Best Jeanist asks, as he rises himself to go after his student.

“Because we don’t plan to leave anyone behind,” Edgeshot finally admits. Best Jeanist shakes his head.

“It stays Nay for me but it’s your responsibility.”

He files out of the room, but Hawks’ smile isn’t deterred, knowing he’ll come around.

The majority chooses hope.

—

Four and a half years have passed since that vote.

Izuku watches his friend, a girl from the support class a year above him who isn’t Hatsume but just as good in her own realm, fiddle with tracking devices and quirk-neutralizing wristlets attached to the first iteration of Entropy’s Hero suit. Entropy’s hero costume doesn’t include a mask, but Izuku has an inkling that no one will recognize him prior to his debut as the man who almost laid waste to the entire country. There is something about a person’s soul that can permeate a vessel, it’s a reminder that beauty is only skin deep, but goodness will shine through no matter what one looks like.

Tenko is however somewhat handsome in the way that his Hero grandmother was beautiful and that helps. Wavy, dark hair frames his face to a shoulder length, and his dark eyes are actually warm now that he’s had time to shed off most of the loneliness. He’s filled out slightly with better food and less angst, which is another thing that is sure to make him more appealing to the masses.

Izuku can still sense the trepidation however in the slight tremble of Tenko’s fingertips as he holds them out for the support engineer to readjust the gloves, and wonders if he’s projecting.

Part of the arrangement for Entropy’s debut is for Deku and Entropy to work as partners for at least a year to satisfy the civilians who still don’t trust him (with good reason) as a contingency plan in case Tenko changes his mind about being a productive member of society and needs someone to stop him a second time.

Izuku is pretty sure he won’t fall back into that dark place again by now, even if a select few will never, ever forgive him. Even Katsuki still grumbles, but agrees that Izuku might be right.

“I feel like a leashed dog still,” Tenko finally pipes up as the engineer adjusts the literal silver collar on his neck. It’s meant to be a joke but it’s not exactly false. Izuku offers him a small consoling smile.

“It makes the commission happy, so bear with it, I guess.” Izuku says. It’s a lame response, he admits, but it’s all he has to offer.

Between the emergency shock collar that’s stylized to appear as part of the prototype suit, a physical tracker, and internal restraints, there are a lot of things to stop Tenko from becoming Tomura again, but at least the adjustment of all of these in the homey atmosphere of Izuku’s apartment feels less like house arrest.

Izuku’s girlfriend peers in from time to time from where she’s holed up studying for clinical examinations to check on their progress, a steaming mug in her hand. The girls wave at each other before she disappears again and locks the door, loud music with heavy bass playing from her computer speakers.

It’s a miracle she’s not afraid of Tenko given Tomura almost killed her during the meta war too, but Izuku understands that this is a testament to how much she trusts his judgment.

“Thank you for doing this,” he says finally to his friend. She practically beams.

“I’m just giving you the ‘your future wife is my bestie’ discount.”

Izuku goes red at the ears and Tenko stifles a laugh. She turns and gives him a look and he immediately looks away, somewhat startled by how quickly she gets into his face.

“It is however a really big favor, I just worry you’ll be somewhat accountable if something goes wrong, too.”

Tenko frowns. “I’m right here, you know,” he murmurs. He pauses before he uses her professional name, which turns out to not be so professional at all. “... Sparkles.”

Sparkles doesn’t hear him, the jitteriness of three days of no sleep in the setting of piled up audits at her security technologies company getting to her. “Just don’t forget to get me the paperwork, Izuku.”

She then turns her attention back to Tenko finally as Izuku searches for a pen in a basket under the coffee table.

Tenko again, possibly too affected by how quickly, she moves, seems to stand up a little straighter as she sizes him up.

“Are you planning on hurting anyone?”

Sparkles hadn’t realized Izuku’s girlfriend had left the room again to grab more sugar for her tea.

“If he says yes, what exactly are you gonna do, babe?” she hollers, disappearing again before waiting for the answer. Izuku chuckles.

“I’d ask him if he meant it,” she yells back. She turns to him again, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “Do you mean it? Are you planning on hurting anyone?”

Tenko tenses up and Izuku tries not to laugh, wondering if he should leave Tenko to Sparkles’ charms or allow him to rest.

Regardless, he has great aspiration for the world’s former greatest villain’s future, yet.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #daydreams: bnha #bnha fluff #bnha x reader #mimi's notes

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sevs-corner · 20 hours ago

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Cont Idea on: Tf 141: Mafia AU!

(Brain rotting rn so lets get it out of my system)

So I realized how this may be similar to like a gang au but I wanted it to be more fancy with the crew (Tf 141) literally treating you as their unofficial-official sugar baby.

Walk with me in my insanity real quick— I can just imagine the unconditional love and care they’d give you and you being unable to say ‘no’ because, at first, all the things they give are things that you need like:

- clothes (branded btw) for the winter, or for any cold occasion because they notice how you rotate through the same apparels and are worried how you might shiver to death. They swear that they could hear your teeth chattering from the cashier despite the warmth the bakery exudes from the kitchen. Price, on more than one occasion, had willingly gave you his scarf (he brings extras in his cars once he started noticing it and gradually became a habit) and he could just melt at seeing you all snuggled up in his clothes.

- pots for your plants (you grow your own vegetables from veggie scraps). Gaz, when he dropped you off at your apartment one time, noticed how you used recycled stuff around your very dingy- yet homey- apartment. Right at the kitchen, where the one other window was present in your apartment (the other one was by your bed), he saw by the sill how you used plastic bottles for your tiny plants and how you used your old veggie scraps, making him want to provide for you even more— but he settles for something simple for now, and then gradually build up to that when you grow more comfy and closer together. <33

- fairy lights to decorate your room with (because they know you study + work late in the night) and Ghost notices this sometimes from how your bags seem so deep. While simultaneously working a day job, you admittedly said that you were also working to get an online degree for the arts, so you could help out Nonna and Nonno’s (italian for grandma and grandpa respectively) business and make it more popular.

( Notice how they grew more downbad with that admission hehe)

- Ghost knows your stubborn and hard working, and don’t usually bend or compromise on important things like that- so instead of forcing you to rest or leaving you be, he decided to give you lights to create a better ambiance for your mini desk workspace. “Hurts the eyes less,” he says as he handed you two boxes of it after your shift. He knows your constantly works in fluorescent lights and knows how that tires the eyes more (from experience), so he thinks this would help you both in studying and for sleeping. (Secretly hoping you’d think of him whenever you gaze at it.)

- surprisingly, Soap would give you bluetooth earphones, knowing how you would work and study with them in every opportunity that you can. Working on slow days, he first noticed you would look around at the front and back before whipping out from your pocket a phone that was wrapped with the earphone’s cord, a bright smile on your face as he sees you bop your head to the beats as you worked to clean or count money or help around at the front of the house. Though, he also notice how mixed up and messy you get in it, seeing you cuss under your breath makes him chuckle but also think of how he could fix that in his own little way. Luckily he had a “spare for his mate but he didn’t wan’ it,” he says to you after an event held at the bakery. It wasn’t like he was waiting for the moment he could catch you alone to see your eyes sparkle just for him only 🫢

Overtime you got used to their gift giving that by the time they were doing all these grandiose stuff for you, it was hard to say- “no,” and deny them from how puppied-look they get. You knew that Simon or Gaz barely gave you things (they’re more of a spend-quality time of love) so you had no choice but to accept (but also to see their grins and how they would snuggle you and pepper your face with soft kisses) As for Price and Soap, you knew they would be huffy and pouty so you decided to avoid that entirely when Gaz accidentally confessed one time that — because you put him into an irritable mood, he kind of skipped the interrogation part with a prisoner (betrayed them lol) and went straight to… execution.

Yeah… it wasn’t a pretty sight. Alternatively, their genuine laughs and smiles were so of course you’d prefer that! (And they too as well~)

OK THATS IT FOR NOW ADDING MORE LATER🫶

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apoloadonisandnarcissus · 1 day ago

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@rey-jake-therapist asked me about my thoughts on the “Elrond will replace Celeborn on “Rings of Power” as Galadriel’s husband” theory. And I’m actually taking the role of Celeborn’s defense attorney on this one.

This is not a simple case of replacing one character with another. And this happening would not only cause a meltdown in the entire Tolkien fandom, but would completely wreck Tolkien lore beyond repair.

Firsts things first, no character can replace Celeborn as Galadriel’s “Elven husband” on Tolkien legendarium. And the show itself has already introduced Celeborn’s existence, and that he’s married to Galadriel. Elves marry for live and death (because Elves can’t truly die, their souls go the Halls of Mandos for a while, and are then reembodied and stay in Valinor), and divorce is forbidden, and only the Valar can decide otherwise. This is literally one of the main arguments against Sauron x Galadriel (every Saurondriel shipper knows this is doomship).

The "Rings of Power" fandom can’t really compare Sauron and Elrond. Elrond is one of the Eldar, and he follows the Valar laws; meaning, he knows Galadriel is married to Celeborn at the eyes of the Eldar and the Valar, and she can't divorce him (yes, even if he's “dead”). Sauron is a fallen Maia, a servant of Morgoth, who rebelled against the Valar and hates the Gods. Meaning: he couldn’t care less about their laws, and Galadriel is as good as single in his book (because he doesn’t recognize the Valar authority).

The moment “Celeborn as Galadriel’s husband” has been acknowledged by “Rings of Power”, any idea of replacement is out of the table, according to Tolkien legendarium. Besides, the show producers, in San Diego Comic-Con 2024, have already confirmed Celeborn will be in “Rings of Power”, we just don’t know when.

For the sake of the argument, allow me to elaborate further problems with this hypothetical replacement. Rivendell and Lothlórien are two key Elven kingdoms in the story. Elrond is Lord of Rivendell, and Galadriel is Lady of Lothlórien; both kingdoms are protected and sustained by the power of their rings; Vilya and Nenya. This couldn’t possibly work, because they have to be in their kingdoms (only leaving on very specific occasions).

Celeborn and Galadriel, indeed, spent a lot of time apart in Tolkien lore, but this is usually in connection with Celeborn’s role as a warrior and as Lord of Lothlórien. Elrond couldn’t possibly be Lord of two major Elven kingdoms at the same time. And for the show to erase Lothlórien entirely would also create several issues: this is not only where Galadriel has her Mirror, and several other magical artifacts, but it’s a key location on itself and a huge part of Galadriel character, and of her “repentant sinner” arc in Tolkien lore: she needs to become a wise and powerful leader, and to wield her power with compassion and humility, in order to gain the Valar’s pardon and be able to return to Valinor.

In some versions of the lore, Galadriel established Lothlórien and Celeborn joined her later (because he was fighting elsewhere); in others they did it together. I don’t know with which version the show will go, but Lothlórien has to exist in it.

#this is a speculation post not a shipping post #don't bring me into your shipping wars #ship whatever you want #galadriel trop #Galadriel rop #Celeborn trop #Celeborn rings of power #elrond rings of power #elrond trop #Sauron RoP #sauron rings of power #saurondriel

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fictionalcharactersaremypassion · 3 days ago

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Unexpected Encounters

Here you go @zutaralesbian!! I hope it's what you're looking for!

///

“I found a love, for me....”

Under the dimmed lights, standing nearby the open bar, Fiona Gallagher let out a soft sigh as she took a drink from her beer. On the dance floor, Ian encircled his arms around Mickey to hold him tight, swaying to the song. As if no one else existed, the rest of the world fading away, there they were; it was only them, eyes closed to take in this moment, reveling in the start of a new chapter in their life.

And it was fucking beautiful.

For so long, she’d been searching for that kind of love and each time she thought she just might, it was viciously taken from her in some way. Bitter memories of Jimmy-Steve and Sean came to the surface, to which she drowned them out with a large gulp of beer.

Nothing seemed to be going for her. Not with her love life, not with her life in general.

Moving out to Florida was supposed to be a fresh start for her. She’d envisioned so much, only for it all to fall short. The felony on her record made it difficult to find a good paying job, let alone her lack of college diploma. She’d found a decent apartment to live in, the first night giving her this sudden feeling of loneliness that hit her.

Little had changed in her life other than not not taking care of a house full of kids.

And the thing is, she assumed she’d be happier that way. In some was, she was; it was easier to live, easier to breathe when she didn’t have five kids dependent on her, worryin’ about how she’ll pay the bills or if they’ll have enough food to eat. But in other ways, she didn’t know what to do with herself. It wasn’t like she wanted all of that responsibility again. It was just really fuckin’ complicated.

Now here she was, back in her childhood home, crashing on the couch until she could find a place for herself. All while her younger siblings had moved on with their lives, coming out more successful than she was capable of being.

She blew out a breath, eyes shifting to see Vee and Kev at one of the tables, laughing with some other guests. She’d been meanin’ to to tell her that they needed to catch up soon. Fiona missed her best friend a lot in the time that she’d been away. Down in Florida, Fiona had some acquaintances, maybe even a couple people she’d call friends. But nothing ever compared to what she and Vee had.

Fiona shook off the nostalgia that came over her. There was no use in dwelling on it, especially today. This was about Ian and Mickey, and she’d be damned if she let herself ruin this occasion for her brother and brother-in-law.

Brother-in-law. It was hard to comprehend that, to think that the very same boy who used to terrorize the Southside was now married into the family.

Her lips tugged up into a smile as the song came to an end. Ian and Mickey were holding onto each other’s faces as they had been earlier, leaning in for a kiss.

She was happy for them. There’d been times she was unsure about Mickey, hell, even times she thought he wasn’t good enough for her little brother. But Mickey had proved himself and shown just how much he cared for Ian, going above and beyond what she’d expect from anybody when they dealt with Ian’s bipolar diagnosis together.

As a new song came on, one of the tables closest to her was empty, so she took a seat, leaning back with her legs crossed. Her eyes flittered around the room, catching sight of her other siblings. In some ways, it was kind of sad to see them so grown up, engrossed in their own issues and having their own lives when she still remembered their bright eyes, chubby cheeks and sweet smiles.

And where did that leave Fiona? They didn’t need her like they used to. Hell, she couldn’t even find herself needed elsewhere. To some extent, it felt like they all moved on while she was stuck behind, trying to claw her way out and make it in the world.

Out of her peripheral, a figured moved closer to her but there were lots of people around so she didn’t think too much of it until the person was right there, his hand on the back of one of the chairs.

“Ay, you mind if I sit here?” Iggy Milkovich asked her, and it was the very last person she expected to see there - at the wedding and asking to sit at the same table as her - so she did a double take.

Fiona knew very little of Iggy Milkovich. At one point in time, they were in the same grade, dropping out for different reasons. She’d seen him around the Southside here and there but it’s not like they’ve ever really had a conversation.

It came as a pretty big fucking surprise to Fiona that he was here. She certainly didn’t expect any Milkovich, well maybe besides Mandy, to attend a gay wedding. But here and there were scattered relatives of Mickey’s around the venue; Colin was doing his best to sweet talk a girl on the other side of the dance floor, Joey and Jamie were swiping frosting off the back of the cake with their fingers - and by now Mickey had noticed, reaching into his pocket for a knife that Ian swiftly plucked out of his hand - while Mandy was dancing with Sandy and Debbie.

What’s more, though, was that Fiona was struck by how roguishly handsome he looked. He was dressed nice with the tie in disarray, hair that was neatly combed and for once, didn’t give off the impression that he was high.

“Iggy,” she said, surprised.

“Hey, Fiona,” he was grinning, holding onto his own beer. ��Thought I saw you around here earlier.”

“Yeah,” she pushed back some hair off her shoulder, suddenly remembering what he’d asked. “Have a seat,” she gestured towards the chair.

He plopped down in it, one arm hanging off the back. “Thought you moved outta here,” he said, taking a swig of his drink.

“I did,” she nodded, trying not to feel too disappointed when she thought of it, “it just didn’t work out.”

“So you’re back now?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m crashing at the house for now until I can get my own place.”

“Ain’t Mick and Red stayin’ there too?”

“Yeah,” she grimaced at the amount of times, too damn often, when she’d overhear them fucking.

Iggy was looking past her, right at Ian and Mickey. “I feel sorry for anyone that's gotta hear them two bastards going at it. Had to listen them fucking for a while when we lived together.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” she laughed. She understood his pain. The Gallagher house had thin walls, too fucking thin if she could hear the damn names her brother and Mickey called each other in bed. God, just the thought made her want to shudder.

Iggy was grinning some more. That could’ve been from the situation or he was just drunk. “Walked in on them once too. Thought Mickey was gonna flip his shit.”

“Oh, God,” Fiona could just imagine that. She drank some more beer to rid herself of any images that might be conjured up.

“Wasn’t my fault, though. Mick left the door unlocked,” Iggy shrugged. “Course, he didn’t care. Probably woulda tried to knock my teeth in if Gallagher hadn’t stopped him.”

“Can’t be any worse than when Lip walked in on them,” Fiona remembered that one. Mickey had been murderous. Lip had been pinned under him with his throat covered by Mickey’s hands.

Lip hadn’t been pleased with the casual tone in which Ian spoke in when he’d called his husband off of him.

Iggy snorted. He was watching them again. “Can you believe those fuckers made it here?”

“No,” she said honestly. She let out a breath. “But I’m happy for them. They deserve it.”

“Yeah,” Iggy said. “I remember when Gallagher was living with us. Mick was so protective of him.”

“Same way at our house,” Fiona remembered those days. He would’ve broken somebody’s kneecaps if they uttered a single word against her brother. Even now, now that she’s back and seen their love first hand again, he would do anything for Ian and vice versa.

Silence came over them both. Fiona repositioned herself, crossing the opposite leg this time. Strangely, though, she didn’t have this urge to get away like she would have assumed from being near a Milkovich.

“I’m kind of surprised you’re here,” she admitted.

He turned to her, blinking. “Why?”

She raised a brow. “Do you really have to ask?”

For a couple of seconds, he stared at her with this dumb expression. Then it dawned on him. “Oh, his gay thing. I don’t give a shit where he sticks his dick. Kinda suspected ‘bout him anyway.”

“Really?” Fiona couldn’t help but ask.

“Yeah. Never used to talk about tits and shit with us and was all secretive about his porn,” Iggy replied. “Figured it out pretty quickly when I saw ‘em kiss.”

“You saw them kiss?”

“Yeah, the day Mick got shot in the ass. Don’t think he ever found out I saw ‘em.”

“And you never told anybody?” Fiona said, blown away.

“Course not,” Iggy said with a shrug. “I ain’t stupid. Terry woulda killed him. Mick woulda definitely flipped his shit. I just had to pretend I didn't see anything. Course, then the dumbass decides to say something in front of the whole damn bar. Nearly did get himself killed.”

He sounded fondly exasperated, a feeling she’d felt from time to time for sure, not anything she’d expect from a Milkovich, especially concerning his brother’s sexuality.

Maybe she was wrong about him, about the family- some of them, anyway.

Iggy kept Mickey’s secret when he didn’t have to, not to mention willingly lived with them for a while. Plus, his siblings and a couple of his cousins made it here today. Would they really have done it if they were anything like Terry?

Iggy was oblivious to what she was thinking, just drinking the rest of his beer without a care in the world.

“So,” she said, to which he looked back at her, “what are you doing these days?”

Jesus, that was lame as fuck.

Iggy didn’t seem to think so. “Not much,” he shrugged. “Gotta find me a new job. My PO’s gettin’ pissy about it.”

“I have to find one too,” Fiona sighed. “I was working in a hotel down in Florida but I can’t see myself doin’ it again. Too many bitchy customers.”

Iggy snorted. “Fuck that. Would’ve quit the first time that happened.”

“I considered it some days,” she said truthfully. There was only so much she could take of being screamed at and unfairly blamed for things that weren’t her fault. “But I have to take what I can get. There’s not a ton of places that want to hire felons.”

She used to feel bitter over it. Used to feel consumed by such anger towards herself for how she’d so carelessly endangered her little brother and ruined her life in a blink of an eye.

It wasn’t something easy to share either. Unsurprisingly, the one guy she decided to be upfront about it and explain to him, he thought it was better if they went their separate ways.

Iggy didn’t blink an eye. “Ain’t that the truth,” he said, unfazed. “You know, I had to work at a fuckin’ flower shop once cuz my PO couldn’t find me anything else. Should’ve heard this bitch telling me I couldn’t bring any fucking weapons inside. This is the fuckin’ Southside. I’m supposed to walk around without my glock?”

“You mean the one you’re not supposed to have while on parole?” She smirked.

“Ay, what my PO don’t know won’t hurt him,” Iggy said dismissively.

She snorted. “Good point.”

Flashes of multi-colored shadows fell over their faces, bouncing away the next second. Iggy’s eyes strayed away from where they’d been glancing to look at her, keeping her under a watchful gaze.

“You want another beer?” He said unexpectedly.

“Sure,” she said.

When he brought it back, he said, “Ay, let’s go outside. It’s getting too damn noisy in here.”

This was where under any other circumstances she would’ve declined, but Fiona found herself not completely put off by the suggestion. “I would,” she said, “but I don’t know where my jacket’s gone...”

She wasn’t lying. Fiona had taken it off when she arrived and now it was nowhere to be found.

“I got you,” Iggy said. Fiona wondered how he was going to manage that when he hollered at the top of his lungs - though the music was still loud enough that it drowned him out somewhat. “Ay, fuckwads! Get her-” He pointed straight at Fiona, who muttered out, “Oh, Jesus,” under her breath, “a jacket before I start cracking skulls.”

“That’s really not necessary- oh,” Fiona was thrown a black suit jacket by someone she didn’t recognize.

“You’re welcome,” Iggy said, chugging one of the beers in his hands.

“You couldn't have just given me yours?” Fiona said mildly, a teasing smile on her lips.

“Fuck no. I’m not freezing my ass off,” Iggy scoffed. He smirked, though.

Abandoning the reception, they went past the doors and out into the cold. Fiona shivered, folding her arms across her chest. They stayed within the parking lot and there was just something about that reminded her of when she used to sneak off with a couple of friends she had many years ago, just hanging around and feeling carefree before everything went to shit.

For now, neither one of them said anything. It wasn’t that Fiona was feeling shy or anything, that wasn’t like her, but it was just different that's all.

So she spoke up first.

And it just so happened to be her going down memory lane.

“Do you remember that fucking awful English teacher we had freshman year?” She said suddenly. “Mrs- fuck, what was her name? Mrs. Melvin or whatever. God, I hated her.”

“Wasn’t she the bitch that quit halfway through class?” Iggy said with a grin.

Fiona laughed. “Oh my God, I remember that. Nobody was listening to her and she threatened to send us all to the office if we didn’t shut up.”

“Ay, yeah. Had a fuckin’ fit when that one guy, Rubin, shot a spit ball at her,” Iggy said, paused and added, “The fuck kinda name is Rubin anyway? S’fuckin’ stupid.”

They both laughed, and when it died down, Fiona was marveling over the fact once again that here she was, socializing with a Milkovich and she was having a pretty nice time.

“Do you-” Fiona thought about what she was asking, deciding to go on with it, “do you ever think about what you would’ve done if you graduated?”

She had no idea why she chose to bring this up here right now. The question had been on her mind lately, not just this second, wondering just how different her life would be if Frank and Monica were decent parents, if she didn’t have to be the one to step up for her siblings.

“No.”

“No?” Fiona repeated, surprised.

“Nah. Wouldn’t have mattered. Terry woulda screwed it up anyway.”

He was honest about it, resigned, and didn’t sound upset. It made Fiona stop and think, making way for an ache in her chest, about how none of them were ever given a chance to be something, to make something of themselves. They were constantly held back by their shitty parents, shitty situations that they shouldn’t have had to deal with at their age.

“What about you?” Iggy’s voice brought her back to the present.

“What?”

“You ever think about it?” He sounded curious, not just him asking out of polite obligation. Than again, she couldn’t really picture him or any of the Milkovich’s acting out of politeness.

“Sometimes,” she smiled slightly. Dropping out of school was the hardest decision she had to make for herself, even though it was ultimately what saved them. Though, she couldn’t deny that for weeks after, she’d been plagued with a bone deep sense of sadness. She’d used to dream, used to hope of getting out of the Southside someday with a degree tucked under her belt and a decent job. Those dreams never looked unrealistic until she finally realized the depth of Frank and Monica’s bullshit.

While other people her age were out partying, rebelling against their parents or figuring out what they wanted to do in life, Fiona was preoccupied in other ways; whether they’d have enough for the bills this month, how they’d get food on the table for all of them, whether Frank or Monica were going to come home when they left for long stretches of time.

Iggy lit a cigarette, offering it to her. She took it, her smile still intact.

“You know, I thought I had everything going for me at one time; grades were good, I was doing track. And then it was just gone,” she sighed. “I thought if I got out of here, things would be different. Seems like the bullshit just followed me.” As Fiona was passing back the cigarette, she had an oh shit moment. Was she really spilling her guts to him? “Shit. Forget I said all that.”

He shrugged. “Where’d you run off to anyway?”

“Florida.”

“Ay, at least you got out. S’more than most can say.”

She supposed that was true. “That’s surprisingly insightful,” she was teasing, only gently.

He puffed up his chest. “I can be that way if I wanna.” All kidding aside, he knocked into her shoulder with his own. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with comin’ back.”

“Even with no job and I’m sleepin’ on the couch?” She deadpanned.

“Been there,” he said, then considered, “Course, I usually find some chick to shack up with.” She let out a laugh, shaking her head. “I slept out on those streets one night and it ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Haven’t been there yet, thank God.”

“Like all those Gallaghers would toss you out,” Iggy piffed. She had to agree. “Course if they do, left side my bed could use some warmin’.”

He winked at her.

Fiona turned her body to face him, plucking the cigarette from him. “Is that right? Who says I wanna be the one to warm it?”

“Don’t play dumb, Gallagher,” Iggy was closer now, having invaded her personal space. “Saw the way you were looking at me earlier.”

The cigarette was dropped to the ground, put out by the bottom of her shoe.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Fiona said slyly.

Just a second later, her arms around his neck and his on her waist, Fiona was engaged in a fucking hot makeout with Iggy Milkovich.

It was needy, full of fire she’d been searching for. God, even Iggy’s touch was making her weak.

“Holy shit,” she muttered. He grinned cockily.

“You seein’ anyone right now?”

“And I’m if I’m not?” She said instead of answering his question.

“How ‘bout you come to my place tonight?”

Fiona grinned. "Better be a damn good bed. My back's been killing me on that shitty couch."

She didn’t come here expecting to find herself in a Milkovich.

But Fiona was damn glad she did.

#shameless #gallavich #shameless fanfiction #fiona gallagher #iggy milkovich

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