#I don’t like it when people talk to me when I’m doing anything that doesn’t require speaking

[tooturtly]

Just so ppl know it does get better! I didn’t really have friends from ages 13-18, and even before then I always felt a little different (gay and neurodivergent). And yeah, it sucked. I thought I was doing everything right. I talked to people in class, I did extracurriculars, I was involved. But nobody was texting me unless it was about something school related. I wasn’t invited to anybody’s house. Twice the people I ate lunch with made homecoming plans but never invited me, I just showed up bc of how much they talked about it.

It finally took seeing the group of people I thought were my friends really overtly reject an openly neurodivergent guy from the friend group. Why? Because he talked too much, he was too sincere. It wasn’t any fault of his own. When I hung out with him in a smaller group, I had a blast. And I realized it wasn’t his fault or mine, but the people who I didn’t even like that much who were pushing me away. They were doing the same thing to both of us, and I should be pissed about it! (I still am, even know people change, it was still a shitty thing to do)

My senior year I finally put myself first and realized that having bad friends was worse than being alone. And I might as well be alone on my terms. I went to homecoming and prom by myself, I wore my own weird clothes and danced by myself just to have fun. I realized that going with those people had made me have less fun, because they hardly wanted to dance to the music if they didn’t know the song. I decided I was going to have fun and be my own person.

The only people I had who were friends were the older people at the game shop I went to. They were kind and patient with me when I didn’t know all the rules, and I’ve since lost touch with them but everyday I’m thankful that I had them in my life. Thank you for taking care of this weird teenager who was too loud and too pushy, and who you guided anyway! Thank you for humoring me!

And then I did find lasting friends. I graduated high school and found a group of amazing, nerdy, goofy people who I clicked with. We play D&D together, we eat together often, we share our stories, we talk and we laugh, we have inside jokes.

As I’ve gotten older I know I still have those moments. Even with my closest friends, I have doubts and anxieties about if they actually like me, if I’m a good and kind enough person to be able to sustain a friendship. Sometimes I think maybe I’m better off alone, because then any hurt I cause will only be me. I’ve never had friends before, I don’t know anything! Sometimes I think I’m too full of hurt to do anything but hurt. But I don’t trust those thoughts! My brain lies to me all the time! Those terrible twisted feelings never come from me, they come from a me that doesn’t know anything but pain and sorrow. I’m an entirely different person when the depression hits, and I’ve learned enough not to trust how I feel in those moments.

I know that I’m trying and my friends know it too. I’m not purposefully mean, I make amends when I make mistakes, which is all you can do because everyone makes mistakes. And I think about how much sadder my life would be without my support network. I would be miserable! Yeah I can do it alone, but I don’t want to! Doing it alone sucks! I love my friends! I don’t want to let them go, and they want me around. If my friends didn’t want me around, they’d tell me to pack it. Yet I’ve continued making friends, I find fun and weird people everywhere!

Fuck it, I’m gonna be me as much as I can! Life is terrible when you’re pretending to be someone else. And I’ve been lucky enough to find space irl where I can be me. If you can’t do that in person, go online, find community anywhere you can get it. I know I learned a lot from lurking online in high school.

My friends love me even though I have flaws, and I love them even though they have flaws. Including the anxiety and self doubt! Loving with flaws is human. Confidence is your armor against that self doubt. Even if it’s fake! Say fuck it and love your life, love yourself! The world is beautiful! Life is beautiful in those small moments laughing, in talking, in smiling.

Yes this is optimistic positivity! Because pessimism made me sad and being sad does not make you want to live! And I want to live. I made the choice once to live as much as I can. God’s tried to kill me twice and he has failed so far, so I will dance through life laughing.

I can still be depressed and I can still laugh! I can be lonely sometimes and still have friends! I can know that there’s always light at the end of the tunnel if I smile and greet the darkness as my friend.

On Isolation

[plaidcowboy]

a lil smth for !guarddog!rafe love?

he’s so mean and so tough in front of ppl always glaring with those pretty eyes but the moment he’s with u in ur room after a long day of woe he switches up like he’s not the same rafe AT ALL

Tysm queen n love ur acc

୭‎ ‎ 𓈒 GUARDDOG!RAFE ゜✸ having another side when with you ❞ ❞

˙ ˳ ✱ love this ᵎᵎ and i so appreciate it pretty ‹𝟹 ˚ ゛ ° ✱ being rafe’s soft spot ⩩ meanie rafe ⩩ softie rafe ⩩ ˚ ゛ °

he could’ve moved the bone out of place with how quick and aggressively he moved his arm from the back of the couch when a girl grazed it. the girl in question flinched, turning back to rafe, having grazed his arm by accident. rafe mugged her, flinching right back. the girl scampered away . . good. his knee bounced as he scanned the room, not catching onto anything the people sitting around him were chatting about.

“rafe knows what i’m talking about.” no, no he doesn’t. rafe turned to the voice, raising his brow.

the guy chuckled, the noise fading off as he took in rafe’s face. “the . . some girls just don’t think. bump into people and don’t say anything.” rafe realized he was referring to the girl who just ran off from him. rafe shrugged, looking elsewhere, not being able to appear more uninterested than he was. “ jus’ don’t like being touched . . or looked at . . or talked to . . ” he looked back to the guy at the last part.

luckily, he took the sign and turned back to his friends, talking with them instead. rafe looked over the group in front of him, his lips pulling into a frown, eyes filling with disdain. who were these people anyway. he pushed from the couch, only taking a few steps away when someone stepped in his way. with no hesitation, he shoved the guy aside, continuing forward. he ignored the shouts of complaint behind him.

he had spotted the exit when he saw a glimpse of hair amongst the crowd in front of him. he immediately directed his path toward it. some shoved bodies out of the way later, rafe caught up to you. you noticed him first, smiling big up at him. rafe grasped your sides, pulling you closer to him, scanning you for anything off. seeing nothing, he moved his grip up to your face. “i am so glad you’re here” he murmured softly. you giggled, scrunching your nose at his relieved expression. he looked as if he just just been through it, and you were his calm.

then rafe realized where you were. he scrunched his brow at you, not completely upset, never being able to be upset with you. not with that pretty face. he glanced to the people near you. he doesn’t know these people. not okay. one of the guy’s gaze was lingering a little too long on you. not okay. he sneered at the guy, pulling you even closer to him. the previous annoyance he felt earlier came back less intense with you in his arms. he looked around for a door, grabbing your hand. he led you two to a random room where he closed and locked the door.

he turned back to you, grabbing your arms to place around his neck and burrowed into you. “baby, you know i don’t like you at parties, but i missed you so much and touching you right now is something else. how do you feel so good? i don’t even care, just don’t let go of me” he mumbled into your top.

you giggled, holding on tighter, per his request. “yes, sir” you responded jokingly. rafe groaned, pulling back to look at you. he quickly turned to nip at your arm next to his head, catching you by surprise and causing you to yelp. “rafe!” you laughed again as he stared intently at you. “i missed it, you had to do it again” he referred to your giggle that he didn’t see, head squished to your side and all. you showed teeth, making rafe chuckle at you.

“i wanna leave. i wanna leave with you. don’t wanna be here anymore. this place sucks. you can tell me who those people were and i’ll deal with them later. i want you, please.”

you giggled at his ramble, nodding your head before he finished. “okay, rafe.”

[myderis]

more than obvious ꒱ anaxa 'n fem reader ᰔ fluff ⊹ word count 0.5k

“ANAXA—” 

“Rule number one,” Anaxagoras interrupts, as he holds up his hand making you pause mid-sentence. He is always so oppressive, it's like he's someone of a very high caliber, and it doesn't matter even if he is, he might not act so mean when you want to talk to him.

“Fine. Anaxagoras,” you huff, crossing your arms and rolling your eyes, “But you’re not fooling anyone. You’ve been avoiding my question for weeks now. Come on, you know what I’m talking about.”

The Sage glanced back and you saw the faintest gleam of annoyance crossing his otherwise emotionless face. “If I knew, would I be standing here enduring your never-ending prattle,” he replied dryly. “Enlighten me, what is it you believe I’m hiding?”

"Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you."  

"Neither does your constant need to interrupt." Each word that left his mouth was dripping with sarcasm. There’s no denying that it’s in his blood to speak and act that way. "Rule number two: silence is golden. Perhaps try it sometime."  

You rolled your eyes once again. “You’re telling me you’ve never been interested in someone? Like—ever?” He stopped walking, turning just enough for you to see his arched brow. “What a waste of time,” he said, not daring to give you more answers

Sighing, you tried to mask the frustration bubbling inside you. “A waste of time? Then why do you tolerate me?”

His lips quirked into a sly, knowing smile, but he said nothing.

“Don’t give me that smug look! If you don’t care about people, then why—” Why does he have to be so… so him? Quiet, distant, like the entire world revolves around the pursuit of truth and knowledge. He could spend hours debating the existence of celestial beings, but when it comes to human emotion? Absolutely clueless.  

"Why can’t you just admit it already?" you snap. "You know how I feel, and I’m not blind. I’ve seen how you look at me!"  

"How I look at you?" he repeats, tilting his head like you’re an experiment gone wrong. "What an astounding observation. Truly, your skills as a logician are unmatched."  

"Don’t pretend this doesn’t mean anything!" Your voice rises more than intended to do so. His lips twitch again, it’s not a smile, you’re not sure what is it anymore. "If you’re referring to your unexplainable fascination with me, it’s hardly a secret. Your melodrama makes it rather… obvious."  

Heat rises to your face. "Just tell me if you have a crush, Anaxa—”

He smirks faintly before gently flicking your forehead. “First,” he said, his fingers still on your skin before he did it again, and you flinched back, rubbing the spot. “never call me that. Second, you’re hopeless.”

“Hopeless?”

"It’s useless to get so angry," he says with a shrug, already turning away. "The reason and the answer to your question are more than obvious. If you can’t see it, perhaps your next pursuit should be self-awareness."  

And just like that, he leaves, and you stood there, stunned, as realization slowly dawned on you.

© MYDERIS. do not translate, plagiarize, or steal my work.

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

FEAR OF WATER

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: after an abusive past, y/n struggles with toxic communication in her relationship with rafe. when fear pushes her away, love teaches her to stay.

based on this ask !! this was a really angsty and emotional one to write and i LOVED it anon, so thank you, and apologies it’s taken a while <3

(check out my other rafe cameron & drew starkey works here !!)

WARNINGS: angst w/ a comforting ending, slightly toxic!reader (unintentional), emotional abuse (by readers ex), trauma responses, arguing, crying, cursing, soft!rafe, fear of letting people in, flinching, detailed descriptions of emotional abuse & manipulation. (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

THIRD PERSON +

The slam of the front door rattled the picture frames on the walls, the weight of Y/N’s footsteps heavy against the wooden floor as she stormed into the kitchen. Her hands were shaking—she hated that they always did when she was this upset. It made her feel weak, even when the anger inside her burned so hot she thought it might consume her entirely.

Rafe followed behind, slower, guarded. He had that look in his eyes again—the one that made her stomach twist with guilt before she could even process why. The look of someone who was tired, not from the fight itself, but from the exhaustion of never knowing how the next argument would go.

“I don’t get why you’re acting like this,” she spat, her voice sharper than she intended. “You know exactly what you did.”

Rafe exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. “Y/N, I don’t—what did I do? Just tell me.”

His calmness made her angrier. It made her feel unheard, like he wasn’t taking this seriously. Her brain was wired to expect resistance, to expect gaslighting, to prepare for the fight that had always followed in her past relationship.

“You said you’d call, and you didn’t. You do this all the time, Rafe. You make promises, and then you break them, like it doesn’t even matter.”

“That’s not fair,” he said carefully. “I got caught up at work. I should’ve called, I’m sorry, but it’s not like I did it on purpose.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, right. There’s always an excuse.”

He frowned, stepping closer, but she took a step back, arms folding over her chest like she was shielding herself from an attack that wasn’t coming. He sighed, something pained flickering across his face.

“Do you hear how you’re talking to me right now?” His voice was quiet, not angry, not defensive—just… tired.

And that was when it hit her.

She wasn’t even really arguing with him. Not Rafe. Not the boy who held her when she had nightmares, who traced circles on her back when she was overwhelmed, who had never once raised his voice at her even when she threw words like daggers. She was arguing with the ghost of the man who had hurt her before, who had made her feel like she had to fight to be heard, to be understood.

Her chest tightened, shame creeping up her spine.

She was training him.

She was teaching Rafe—patient, loving Rafe—that no matter how hard he tried, it would never be good enough for her. That he’d always be walking on eggshells, waiting for the next time he slipped up and she lashed out.

She was turning him into someone who feared her.

The realisation knocked the air from her lungs, and before she could stop herself, her feet were already moving, carrying her toward the door.

“Y/N, wait,” Rafe called, but she couldn’t—she couldn’t.

If she let him say something kind, if she let him look at her with that soft, exhausted sadness in his eyes, she’d break down right in front of him.

She barely registered getting into her car, barely noticed the shaking of her hands as she fumbled with the keys.

And then she was driving.

Her vision blurred with tears, and she blinked them away furiously, but they just kept coming, spilling down her cheeks in hot, silent streams.

She had pushed him too far this time.

She knew it—knew, in the deepest part of her heart, that there was only so much someone could take.

She wanted to be better. She needed to be better. But how could she, when she didn’t even know what that looked like? When she had spent so long being told that love was a battlefield, that the only way to be heard was to yell louder, fight harder?

She should’ve let Rafe in. She should’ve told him why she reacted the way she did, why she felt like she had to accuse before she could be accused, hurt before she could be hurt.

But it was too late.

She had to leave before he could do it to her.

Because that’s what she had been taught—that love never stayed, that sooner or later, they always left.

And she’d rather be the one walking away than the one being abandoned.

The thought shattered something inside her, and for the first time in a long time, she let herself sob.

—

Rafe had never felt this kind of exhaustion before.

It wasn’t the kind that came after a long day working in the heat or the kind that settled in his bones after a sleepless night. No, this was different. It was the weight of not knowing—the crushing uncertainty of whether or not he had just lost the best thing that had ever happened to him.

He hadn’t stopped calling since the moment Y/N ran out of his house. The first few went straight to voicemail. Then, after what felt like an eternity, a text finally came through.

I’m safe. I just need some space.

The relief had been instant—so strong that his knees nearly buckled. But it didn’t last long. Because the truth was, she might be safe, but she wasn’t okay.

And the worst part? He didn’t know how to fix it.

Rafe sat on the edge of his bed, phone still clutched in his hands, staring at the screen like it might give him the answers he needed. But there were no answers—just the hollow ache in his chest and the endless loop of their fight playing over and over again in his head.

It wasn’t the argument itself that unsettled him. Couples fought—it was normal. He and Y/N had had disagreements before, sure, but never like this.

The way she’d looked at him tonight wasn’t how someone looked at the person they loved. It was how someone looked at a threat.

And that… that was what haunted him the most.

Rafe never wanted to be something Y/N had to defend herself against.

His thoughts raced, trying to piece together why she had reacted the way she did. It wasn’t like he’d done anything that bad—he’d forgotten to call. That was all. It wasn’t like he lied, or cheated, or intentionally hurt her. And yet, the second he tried to explain, she had shut down, turned on him, twisted it into something it wasn’t.

It was almost like… she expected him to hurt her.

The realisation hit him hard.

Y/N had mentioned her ex before, offhandedly. Just a couple of times. She never said much, just that he was shitty, that he messed her up.

But this… this was more than just the baggage of a bad breakup. This was damage.

And if there was anyone who might have more answers, it was Sarah.

—

Sarah wasn’t surprised when she opened the door to find Rafe standing there, disheveled and tense, like he’d been pacing for hours.

She sighed, leaning against the frame. “I figured you’d show up eventually.”

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Did she tell you?”

Sarah nodded her head. “She sent me a short text. It was reallt vague, but I gathered it wasn’t good.”

Rafe swallowed hard, his throat dry. “I just… I don’t understand. She got so defensive. It was like—like she thought I was trying to hurt her. And when I tried to calm things down, it just made her angrier.”

Sarah’s expression softened. “Rafe…” She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “You know her last relationship wasn’t good, right?”

“She said it was shitty, but—” He broke off, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t realise how bad.”

Sarah sighed, crossing her arms. “Her ex was emotionally abusive. Manipulative. The kind of guy who’d twist things until she thought she was the problem. He made her question everything. Gaslit her, isolated her. It took her forever to get out.”

Rafe’s stomach twisted.

Y/N had never told him any of that.

Sarah continued, her voice quieter now. “She’s not like this because she wants to be, Rafe. It’s a trauma response. She learned to survive by being defensive. By fighting back first before she could be blamed. And now, even when she’s with someone who actually loves her, it’s hard to unlearn that.”

Rafe nodded slowly, his jaw tight. He could see it now, see how it all fit together.

How the moment something felt like it could go wrong, Y/N would push him away. How she always needed control over the situation, how she sometimes twisted his words—not because she wanted to hurt him, but because that’s how she had survived before.

She wasn’t fighting him. She was fighting the past.

Sarah sighed. “I don’t want to say more—it’s not my story to tell. But if you really care about her, you’ll be patient. She needs to learn how to trust that you’re not him.”

Rafe nodded, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I do care,” he muttered. “More than I probably should.”

Sarah gave him a small, sad smile. “Then don’t give up on her yet.”

—

Rafe sat in his truck, staring at the dark road ahead, his mind still reeling from everything Sarah had told him.

It all made sense now.

It wasn’t that Y/N didn’t love him. It wasn’t even that she wanted to hurt him. It was that she didn’t know any different.

And that broke his fucking heart.

He thought about the way she looked at him when they weren’t fighting—when she was curled up in his arms, or when she laughed at something stupid he said, or when she kissed him like he was the only thing keeping her steady.

That was her.

Not the girl who lashed out. Not the girl who pushed and twisted things in an attempt to stay in control.

He couldn’t let this be the thing that ended them.

Because if there was one thing he knew, it was that Y/N deserved to be loved the right way. She deserved someone who wouldn’t run just because loving her required patience.

She deserved someone who would stay.

And if that meant showing up even when she didn’t know how to ask him to—if that meant proving to her that he wasn’t like the man who hurt her—then he’d do it.

He threw the truck into drive, determination settling in his chest.

He needed to see her.

He needed to talk to her.

So Rafe headed towards his place to grab his phone before heading to Y/N’s to fix things.

He had barely stepped into his house when the knock echoed through the quiet space.

He frowned, glancing toward the door. He hadn’t been expecting anyone, and after the night he’d had, he wasn’t exactly in the mood for surprises. But when he pulled it open, his breath caught in his throat.

Y/N stood there, her frame swallowed by an oversized hoodie, sleeves pulled over her hands as she twisted the fabric between trembling fingers. Her eyes—blood-shot and swollen from crying—met his with a hesitance that made his chest ache.

She looked afraid.

Not of him.

But of what came next.

“Y/N—”

“I’m sorry.”

Her voice was hoarse, like she’d been crying for hours. Maybe she had. The weight of everything unsaid hung between them, thick and suffocating. Rafe wanted to say something, anything, but she beat him to it.

And when she spoke, the words tumbled out in a frantic, shaky rush.

“I—God, I don’t even know where to start,” she admitted, sniffing as she swiped a sleeve under her nose. “I just—I need to say this before I lose my nerve.”

Rafe nodded slowly, heart pounding. “Okay.”

She took a deep breath, and then, like a dam breaking, everything spilled out.

“My ex—he wasn’t just shitty, Rafe. He was toxic. He—he manipulated me, controlled me, made me think I was losing my mind. Every time we fought, he’d twist my words until I couldn’t even tell what was real anymore. And when I got upset, that became the problem. I was the problem. He convinced me I was crazy. That I was too much, too sensitive, too difficult to love.”

Her voice cracked, and Rafe’s hands clenched into fists at his sides.

He had felt it before—the anger, the quiet rage that settled deep in his bones whenever he thought about the way Y/N’s past had left its mark on her. But now, hearing her say it aloud, it burned white-hot in his veins.

“I spent so much time walking on eggshells, just waiting for the next thing he’d use against me,” she continued, voice thick with emotion. “So eventually, I just… I learned to fight back first. Before he could get the upper hand. Before he could make me feel small again.”

Rafe swallowed hard, feeling something inside him break at the way she spoke—like she still carried the weight of it all, like she still believed she was the problem.

“Y/N,” he started, but she shook her head.

“I need to finish,” she whispered. “Please.”

He nodded, his throat tight.

She exhaled shakily. “I didn’t mean to treat you like him. I swear I didn’t. But I don’t know how else to be. Every time we fight, I feel like I have to defend myself before you can hurt me. But you never do. You’re nothing like him, Rafe. You’ve never made me feel small, never made me question myself. You’re the only person I’m actually terrified of losing, so tonight—” Her voice wavered. “Tonight, I left before you could.”

Rafe felt his heart shatter.

She had run because she thought he’d leave her. That he’d get tired of her, of the way she struggled to let go of the past.

She didn’t realise he never would.

Tears slipped down her cheeks, but she barely seemed to notice, too lost in her own confession.

“I don’t want to be like this,” she whispered, voice raw with desperation. “I don’t want to push you away. I don’t want to hurt you just because I don’t know what healthy love is supposed to look like.”

“Y/N…” Rafe’s voice broke, and suddenly, he was moving—closing the space between them, cupping her face in his hands with a gentleness that made her shudder.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment, she just leaned into his touch, like she was memorising the feeling of him still being there.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I’m so fucking sorry, Rafe. I know I’ve been difficult, I know I’ve been hard to love, but please—please don’t go anywhere.”

He felt his own tears spill over at that—at the sheer, heartbreaking fear in her voice.

She thought he was going to leave.

She truly believed that he’d wake up one day and decide she wasn’t worth it.

He pressed his forehead to hers, his grip tightening like he was afraid she might slip away again.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “Ever.”

Her breath hitched, and her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, like she was trying to anchor herself to him.

“I promise,” he continued, his thumbs brushing away her tears. “You are not too much. You are not difficult to love. I don’t care how long it takes for you to believe that, I’m not going anywhere.”

A sob wracked through her body, but this time, it wasn’t just pain—it was relief.

And then, in the quietest voice, she whispered, “I’ll get help.”

Rafe pulled back slightly, searching her eyes.

“I mean it,” she insisted. “I want to get better. I want to be better. For us.”

She let out a shaky breath, looking up at him with a mixture of fear and determination.

“Now I’m not afraid of the water,” she whispered. “I’ll dive right in. And I can be brave, so I’m gonna give it a try.” Her lip trembled. “Because I know you’ll be on the other side.”

Rafe’s heart clenched.

Because for the first time since she had come into his life, Y/N wasn’t running.

She was staying.

And so was he.

Rafe cradled her face, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead, his own tears still slipping down his cheeks.

“I’m right here,” he murmured. “I’ll always be right here.”

She exhaled shakily, nodding as she let herself fall into his embrace, arms wrapping tightly around his waist.

And as they stood there, wrapped up in each other, Rafe knew—this was what love was supposed to be.

Messy. Imperfect. But real.

And this time, neither of them were afraid of stepping into unknown waters.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

thank you so much for this request anon, i love me some angst !! pls keep requesting everyone, i am working my way through them and i have like four in my drafts rn to be edited so stay tuned !!

as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3

[luvashli]

ESCAPISM

SYNOPSIS -> After a painful breakup with Heeseung, you lose yourself in a wild night of partying. Niki becomes your distraction, leading to heated dances and passionate kisses. But as morning comes, you’re left wondering if it was just an escape or something more.

PAIRING -> nonidol!ni-ki x fem!reader (ex!heeseung)

GENRE -> oneshot, romance, drama, angst, suggestive, emotional, mature

STARTED -> 2/12/2025

STATUS -> complete

WC -> 2.7k

Note -> This oneshot is inspired by the song “Escapism” by Raye. While the story contains suggestive themes and intense emotional tension, it does not include explicit smut.

click here for the song “Escapism” by Raye

Masterlist

It happened last night.

You sat across from Heeseung in your favorite café, the one you always went to after his late-night practices. The air between you was thick—he was fidgeting with the sleeve of his hoodie, avoiding your gaze, while you stirred your coffee without drinking it.

You could feel it before he even said the words.

“Y/N… we need to talk.”

Your fingers tensed around your spoon. Those words never meant anything good.

“About what?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Heeseung finally looked at you then, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t see the warmth that used to be there. Instead, you saw hesitation. Guilt.

“This… us,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.

Your breath caught in your throat.

“Heeseung, what are you saying?”

He sighed heavily, finally meeting your eyes. “I think we should end this.”

The words hit harder than you expected.

“Why?” you whispered.

Heeseung exhaled sharply, frustration flickering across his face. “You know why, Y/N. This… this isn’t working anymore. I don’t have time. You don’t have time. We barely see each other, and when we do, we’re just fighting or pretending like everything’s fine. It’s not fine.”

Your stomach twisted. Yes, things had been tense lately. Late-night arguments over missed dates, his phone always buzzing with notifications he wouldn’t let you see, the way he seemed distant even when he was right in front of you.

But you loved him. And you thought he still loved you, too.

“You’re giving up on us?” you asked, your voice cracking.

His jaw tightened. “I just… I don’t think we��re good for each other anymore.”

You felt like you were drowning.

“So that’s it?”

Heeseung swallowed hard, looking down at the table. He wouldn’t even fight for you.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

And that was the part that hurt the most. He wasn’t angry, wasn’t cruel. He was just… done.

You walked out before he could see the tears spill down your face.

---

The city hums beneath you, neon lights flashing in sync with the pounding bass inside the club. The music is loud—loud enough to drown out your thoughts, loud enough to replace the echoes of his voice from last night.

"I think we should end this."

Cold. Empty. Like the months you spent loving him meant nothing.

So now you’re here. Dressed in sin, drowning in liquor, looking for something—someone—to make you forget.

The champagne fizzes in your glass as you swirl it absentmindedly, perched at the bar with your legs crossed, your heels dangling from your feet. You don’t trust the people you came with. They’re friends of friends, girls who smile too wide and whisper too much. But that doesn’t matter. Tonight, nothing matters.

Then, he walks in.

Ni-ki.

He moves like he owns the room—tall, lean, and effortlessly confident. His dark eyes scan the crowd, taking in everything, calculating. But then they land on you.

And they stay.

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he approaches, his presence commanding in a way that makes your skin tingle. He leans against the bar beside you, close enough that you catch the scent of his cologne—something clean, sharp, expensive.

"Buy me a drink?" you ask, tilting your head.

"I was just about to ask you the same thing," he replies smoothly.

He orders two wines without breaking eye contact, and the bartender slides them over. You take a sip, letting the bitter warmth spread through you, letting it replace the ache in your chest.

"Rough night?" he muses, watching you.

You exhale a laugh, shaking your head. "More like a rough life."

He doesn’t push for details. He just clinks his glass against yours. "To forgetting, then."

And just like that, you fall into the night with him.

---

The alcohol makes everything blur—makes it easier to laugh, easier to let go. One drink turns into three, into five. You’re on the dance floor now, the bass vibrates through your chest, the rhythm pulsing like a second heartbeat. The club is packed—bodies moving, drinks spilling, neon lights flashing across the dance floor in a kaleidoscope of color. But none of it matters.

Because the moment Ni-ki pulls you into him, hands firm on your waist, the entire world narrows down to just the two of you.

Your body moves instinctively to the music, swaying with the beat, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders. Ni-ki’s grip tightens, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you, only heat and the electric tension that’s been building between you all night.

His dark eyes lock onto yours, and there’s something wicked in them—something teasing, something daring. He’s testing you, seeing how far you’ll let this go.

So you decide to push back.

You turn in his arms, pressing your back against his chest, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate circles. His sharp inhale is almost lost beneath the pounding music, but you feel it. You feel everything—his hands spreading across your stomach, his breath against the shell of your ear, the way his fingers flex like he’s barely holding himself together.

“You know what you’re doing, don’t you?” he murmurs, voice low, laced with amusement.

You glance over your shoulder, a smirk playing on your lips. “Maybe.”

His response is immediate. One hand slides down, fingers splaying over your hip, guiding your movements with a firm, calculated grip. He’s in control now, and he wants you to know it.

You let your head fall back against his shoulder as you move together, the tension between you tightening with every sway, every roll of your hips against his. The heat of his body is overwhelming, the scent of his cologne intoxicating, and you know you’re playing a dangerous game.

But that’s the whole point, isn’t it?

Ni-ki leans down, his lips brushing against your jaw, the touch featherlight, teasing. His fingers trail up your arm, over your bare shoulder, until they find the strap of your dress, tugging it just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“You should be careful,” he murmurs, his voice a mix of warning and promise.

You turn in his arms again, chest pressed against his, fingers curling into the collar of his jacket. The air between you is thick, heavy, charged. Your heart pounds, and you know—you know—that if you lean in just a little more, his lips will be on yours.

“And if I don’t want to be careful?” you challenge, tilting your chin up, eyes locked onto his.

Ni-ki’s smirk deepens.

“Then we have a problem.”

His hands tighten on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as the music thrums around you, drowning out everything except the way he feels against you. The way he looks at you—like he already knows exactly how this night is going to end.

And for once, you don’t care about the consequences.

So you let yourself get lost in him, in the music, in the escape.

Because tonight, that’s all that matters.

___

By the time you stumble out of the club, giggling as the cold night air bites at your skin, you’re too far gone to care about anything but him. His hand finds yours, steadying you as you both slip into the back of a waiting taxi.

The city lights blur past the window, but you’re not looking at them. You’re looking at him. The sharp cut of his jaw, the way his lips part slightly as he watches you.

The air inside the taxi is thick with tension, crackling like electricity between you and Ni-ki. The city blurs past outside the window, neon lights flashing across his sharp features, casting shadows across his cheekbones. His hand rests on your thigh, just barely, his fingers tracing absentminded circles against your skin.

It’s nothing. It’s everything.

Your breath hitches, your body already reacting to the unspoken pull between you. You don’t know what it is about him—maybe it’s the way he looks at you, like he’s daring you to do something reckless, or maybe it’s the way he hasn’t asked you any questions, hasn’t pried into the wounds you’re trying to drown in champagne and cheap thrills.

“Are you always like this?” he asks suddenly, voice smooth, teasing.

You turn to him, tilting your head slightly. “Only when I don’t want to feel.”

His eyes flicker with something—understanding, maybe. A silent acknowledgment that he knows what it’s like to run from something, too.

You don’t ask what he’s running from. And he doesn’t ask about you.

His gaze flickers down to your lips, and something dark flickers in his eyes. You don’t miss the way his fingers tighten slightly against your thigh, the way his tongue flicks out to wet his lips.

You should wait. You should think. But you don’t want to.

Instead, you shift closer, closing the space between you until your breaths mix, until you can feel the warmth of him against your skin.

“And right now?” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

“Right now, I don’t want to feel anything at all,” you breathe.

That’s all it takes.

Ni-ki moves first. His hand slides up, fingers grazing the bare skin of your thigh, igniting something in you that’s been burning all night. He catches your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up just enough to bring his lips to yours.

The kiss is slow at first, deliberate—like he’s testing you, like he’s seeing how far you’ll let this go. But you don’t hold back. You press into him, fingers curling into the collar of his jacket, pulling him closer, deeper.

And just like that, the tension snaps.

He groans softly against your lips as his hands slide to your waist, tugging you toward him, his grip firm, possessive. The taxi is moving too fast, or maybe not fast enough, because you can’t get close enough to him, can’t feel enough of him.

You bite his lower lip, just enough to make him inhale sharply, his fingers tightening around you in response. His hands are warm, rough in a way that makes you shiver, in a way that makes you forget everything except the way he’s touching you.

Your back presses against the cool leather of the taxi seat as he deepens the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours, sending heat spiraling through you. His fingers slip beneath the hem of your dress, tracing slow, agonizing patterns along the inside of your thigh, teasing.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmurs against your lips, his breath uneven.

You smirk, tilting your head back slightly, your own hands slipping beneath his shirt, tracing the hard lines of his abdomen. “And you like it.”

His responding chuckle is dark, low. “Yeah. I do.”

The driver clears his throat loudly. You barely register it, too caught up in the feeling of Ni-ki’s mouth on your skin, his lips trailing along your jaw, down the column of your throat.

“We’re almost there,” the driver mutters.

You exhale sharply, forcing yourself to pull away, your pulse racing. Ni-ki watches you, his lips swollen, his breathing uneven, his fingers still pressing into your thigh like he doesn’t want to let go just yet.

“Hotel,” he says to the driver, voice rough. “Now.”

And as the taxi speeds up, you realize something.

You may not want to feel.

But with Ni-ki, you’re going to.

___

The elevator ride is suffocating.

Not because there’s no air, but because every inch of space between you and Ni-ki is filled with tension so thick, it’s almost unbearable. His fingers press into your waist, his body heat radiating through the thin fabric of your dress. You can feel his breath against your temple, the scent of liquor and something undeniably him mixing in the confined space.

Neither of you speak. You don’t need to.

The ding of the elevator doors opening barely registers before you’re moving, stepping out onto the hotel floor with Ni-ki’s hand gripping yours, leading you down the dimly lit hallway. His pace is hurried, purposeful, like he’s barely holding himself together. Like he’s been waiting for this all night.

The second the hotel door swings shut behind you, the restraint shatters.

Ni-ki is on you in an instant, pressing you against the door with a force that knocks the breath from your lungs. His lips crash against yours, hungry, demanding, his hands gripping your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

You moan into the kiss, fingers threading into his dark hair, tugging just enough to make him growl low in his throat. The sound sends a rush of heat straight through you, making your knees weak. You don’t want to think. You don’t want to feel anything but him.

Ni-ki’s hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, sliding up your sides, tracing over your curves like he’s memorizing every inch of you. His fingers hook into the straps of your dress, dragging them down your shoulders, his lips trailing after them, kissing a slow, burning path down your collarbone.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes against your skin, voice rough with desire.

Your head tips back against the door as his mouth finds the sensitive spot on your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver. Your hands move instinctively, slipping under his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. He shrugs it off easily, then tugs his shirt over his head, revealing toned skin and sharp lines that make your mouth go dry.

You don’t get the chance to admire him for long before he’s lifting you effortlessly, his hands gripping your thighs as he carries you toward the bed. You gasp, arms wrapping around his shoulders, but he just smirks, pressing another hot kiss to your lips as he lays you down against the cool sheets.

“Tell me you want this,” he murmurs, hovering above you, his dark eyes locked onto yours.

You don’t hesitate.

“I want this,” you whisper. “I want you.”

That’s all he needs to hear.

Ni-ki kisses you again, slower this time, savoring the way you melt beneath him. His hands explore your body with an intoxicating mix of tenderness and urgency, fingers skimming down your waist, gripping your thighs, leaving a trail of fire everywhere he touches.

He takes his time, pulling your dress down inch by inch, watching the fabric slip away from your body with a hunger that makes your pulse race. His lips follow the path of his hands, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your stomach, your hips, teasing you, torturing you.

“You’re driving me insane,” he mutters against your skin, his voice raw.

You smirk, arching into him, dragging your nails down his back. “Then do something about it.”

And he does.

The night dissolves into a blur of heat and tangled sheets, of whispered names and desperate touches, of lips and hands and bodies moving together in perfect rhythm. Every kiss, every touch, every breath is an escape—an escape from reality, from heartbreak, from the pain you refuse to acknowledge.

And for a few fleeting hours, nothing else matters.

Not Heeseung.

Not the past.

Not the consequences.

Only this. Only him.

---

Morning comes too soon.

The sun cuts through the curtains, painting the room in harsh light. Your head is pounding, your throat dry, your body aching in a way that isn’t just physical.

You blink, trying to remember. Flashes of last night come back in pieces—his hands, his lips, the way he whispered your name like it meant something.

Beside you, Ni-ki stirs. His arm drapes lazily over your waist, his face buried in the pillow. Peaceful. Unbothered. Like this is just another night for him.

And maybe that’s all it was.

You slip out of bed, pulling the sheet around you as you search for your dress. The air is heavy, suffocating, and the second you find your phone, you see the unread messages from him.

Heeseung.

I shouldn’t have ended things like that.

Can we talk?

You inhale sharply, your fingers hovering over the screen.

Last night, you thought you had buried the pain under alcohol, under Ni-ki’s touch. But now, in the quiet of the morning, the weight of everything settles back onto your chest.

Your chest tightens.

You should feel something. Anger. Sadness. Relief. But instead, there’s just... nothing.

Because this was never about getting over him.

It was about escaping.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re still running.

Would you like a part two?? Let me know :))

Open taglist

If you’d like to be tagged in future updates for other story, let me know by:

- Sending me a message or

- Dropping a comment on this post (or any story)

@crimson-reaper576 @luvleyylina

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

It's a beach episode. For BuckTommy Fluffebruary Day Twelve: A Day at the Beach. I'm from California, and I'm here to dispel the myth that our beaches are sunny and beautiful. Half of them are freezing, and that's where I'm putting these two. Tagging @bucktommyfluffebruary. This can also be read here on AO3.

“I don’t know how to feel about Northern California beaches,” Tommy decides, shrugging his shoulders up so his hoodie almost goes to his ears.

In their watching of old movies, Tommy had shown Evan The Birds, and then Evan had found out Bodega Bay is a real place and wanted to see it. It’s a cute, small town that really capitalizes on its claim to fame via endless souvenirs, but it’s also freezing even though it’s June.

“It’s like this in New England,” Evan says, snuggling up to him on their shared blanket. They’d opted to buy food and a bottle of wine from a small market up the highway before picking a spot on the beach to have lunch.

Despite the chill, there’s people running around and children making sandcastles and even a few surfers. There’s more than a few people in hoodie-and-trunks combos not unlike what Tommy and Evan are wearing.

Evan passes him the wine bottle, and Tommy takes a drink before digging into the impromptu cheeseboard they’d made. The wine is good, because they’re close to Napa, and they also discovered that a lot of local dairies exist in the area that make amazing cheeses.

“We should go to Napa,” Tommy suggests, looping an arm around Evan. “Spend a couple days going to wineries and pretending we know what the sommeliers are talking about. Did you ever see Sideways?”

“Nope, we can watch it tonight.” Evan steals back the wine and takes a long pull from it. “You know, I thought you’d stop trying to impress me once you locked me down.”

He snuggles his face into Evan’s neck to hide his smile. “Gotta keep renewing your interest, right?”

Evan chuckles and reaches up to hold the side of his head, and his cheek rubs against Tommy’s hair. “We’re getting married in seventy-four days. I’m about to sign up for the lifetime subscription, babe.”

Tommy mouths the number to himself, both surprised and not that Evan knows that off the top of his head. It feels like a long way away, but it’s really not. It also feels like it can’t come soon enough.

“I like making you happy,” he says, kissing Evan’s neck and then his cheek. When Evan turns to look at him, he kisses his mouth, too.

“You do,” Evan says softly, pressing their foreheads together. “I like making you happy, too.”

Tommy nods and feels a frisson of joy and love through his body that sparks in his fingertips and toes. He can’t hold back his smile, doesn’t feel any need to. “You do. More than anything.”

They kiss again, sweet and lingering, and then they go back to eating. When they’re done, Evan stands and holds out a hand to him.

“Time to freeze our feet off,” he says, and Tommy lets himself get hauled up.

He gets video of them waiting for the wave to crash and send freezing water up to their knees, and he makes sure he captures Evan’s shriek and the shock on his face at the immediate feeling of numbing cold. They start to run back to safety, but Evan stops to pick up shells and his ankles get blasted with freezing surf. Tommy almost falls over laughing at the choked noise he makes and the ‘O’ his mouth forms.

“I can’t feel my feet,” Evan whines, so Tommy scoops him up in a carry over his shoulder to get him back to their blanket. He passes a couple of people who watch with amusement as he carries his laughing fiance over his shoulder, and they wave back when he waves to them. When he deposits Evan on the blanket and uses one of the towels to carefully brush the sand from his feet, he looks up to see Evan grinning at him, a spot of sunlight in the chilly day.

“What?” he asks, smiling back.

“I just love you,” Evan says, bending forward to kiss him. He cuddles with Tommy when they’ve sat next to each other again and steals his phone so he can watch the video he’d taken. “Wanna build shitty sandcastles?”

“Sure,” Tommy says, kissing his temple and breathing in the salt that’s clinging to Evan’s curls. “And then we can go back to our hotel, take the hottest bath possible, and get dinner.”

“Perfect,” Evan sighs, leaning his weight into Tommy for a long time. When he looks down, Evan is looking out at the water with a wistful expression.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“It’s one of those things,” he replies, tangling his hand with Tommy’s where it’s resting on his shoulder. “It’s so stupid, but today’s one of those days that just feels like a dream come true.”

It feels like Tommy’s heart actually grows in his chest for a moment. “It’s not stupid.”

They sit for a while longer before Evan scoots forward and starts digging at the sand. Their castles are primitive at best, because they don’t have buckets or tools and aren’t willing to get closer to the water to get wet sand. Instead, they end up with mounds and moats and plateaus, and there’s a minor border dispute when Evan starts building over one of Tommy’s.

“I’m making an addition,” he argues.

“You’re encroaching on a sovereign nation!”

Evan turns big, sad eyes on him. “So they’re not allies?”

Tommy opens his mouth to argue and then shuts it before sighing. “Okay, fine. But don’t touch the courtyard.”

The new terms of the treaty are sealed with a kiss and then another and then another.

–

Tommy posts the video of them in the surf along with the photo of Evan with his hoodie up and the strings pulled tight so that all that’s showing are his eyes and nose while he flashes double peace signs, a selfie of the two of them with the wine bottle, a photo of their castle city, and a picture of Evan laying on their blanket with his arm over his eyes while he laughs at Tommy. He captions it with: Beach day with my favorite in Bodega Bay. Thankfully no birds sighted in vicinity. ♥️ #74DaysToGoUntilForever

buckar00 ♥️♥️♥️ We’re so cute. 😍

hen_wilson Petition to have the station alarm replaced with the noise Buck makes in this video.

firepilotTK @hen_wilson I’ll bring it up with the chief to have it changed in ALL stations.

buckar00 😞 it was really cold, guys.

firepilotTK @ buckar00 I’ll warm you up when I get back to our room. ♥️😜

bombero_diaz This is your monthly reminder that these comments can be seen by EVERYONE. And to bring back souvenirs.

[bloomzone]

2025 : #18 THE ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT BURNOUT

i feel exhausted. And I don’t mean like "Oh, I need a nap" exhausted y'all know exhaustion that sits in ur bones that makes even the smallest tasks feel like moving a mountain Even when I do get some rest like sleeping for 8h do breathing techniques I still wake up feeling like I’ve been hit by a truck. And not a small one I'm talking an 18-wheeler, full speed (call it whatever u want) . I was tired all the time yet somehow also restless. I wanted to do something, but I also didn’t want to do anything. I was stuck in this weird, miserable limbo where everything felt pointless, but at the same time, I was stressed about not doing enough. Like, how does that even make sense?And honestly, it got to a point where I wasn’t even living anymore I was just existing. Just floating through days waiting for the next one hoping I’d feel better but never really doing anything about it. Because when you’re that deep in burnout, it’s hard to even believe that you can feel better.

But you can. And I know that sounds cliché as hell but listen to me for a second. If I could drag myself out of that deep, dark hole, you definitely can too. And I’m not saying it’s gonna be easy, but I swear to you, it’s possible.

ᡣ𐭩 sᴛᴇᴘ ᴏɴᴇ: sᴛᴏᴘ ᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀsᴇʟғ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴀ ғᴀɪʟᴜʀᴇ

If someone talked to you the way you talk to yourself you’d probably wanna fight them Like imagine your younger self sitting right in front of you. If they were struggling, feeling drained, feeling like a failure, would you yell at them to “get their shit together” and call them lazy? No, right? You’d probably comfort them, tell them it’s okay, tell them they don’t have to be perfect.

So why the hell are you so mean to yourself?

Burnout doesn’t happen because you’re weak or lazy but it happens because you’ve been pushing yourself too hard for too long bu experience cuz when I study every single day like NOO stop wake up early,homeworks,school and the same loop go for 1 month I burn out for maybe 15days after (like rn) And let’s be honest, most of us don’t even realize it’s happening until we’re knee-deep in exhaustion. You keep telling yourself, “Oh, I’ll rest once I finish this” or “I just need to push through a little more,” until one day, your body and brain just quit on you.

So the first step? Start being nice to yourself. Start talking to yourself the way you’d talk to a best friend who’s struggling. Because you are not the problem burnout is.

ᡣ𐭩sᴛᴇᴘ ᴛᴡᴏ: ʀᴇsᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪғᴇ ᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅs ᴏɴ ɪᴛ (ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ɪᴛ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴅᴏᴇs)

I know resting sounds like the most obvious advice ever, but do you actually do it? Because scrolling on your phone for five hours doesn’t count as rest. Lying in bed while spiraling about everything you should be doing? Also not rest.

Real rest means giving yourself permission to slow down without feeling guilty. It means doing things that actually recharge you so don't force urself to do ur hard tasks like intense workout at 6am saying yes to extra tasks or project ... But say yes to take walks , listening to music, watching a comfort show DO ANYTHING THAT MAKE U HAPPY not everyone have the same (happiness detox) so yeah . And most importantly, it means not punishing yourself for needing a break.Because pooks you’re not a machine. You weren’t built to be productive 24/7. Even your phone needs to be charged, and you’re out here expecting yourself to run on 2% battery every day? Yeah, no wonder you feel like shit.

ᡣ𐭩sᴛᴇᴘ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ: ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴅᴀᴍɴ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ғʀᴏᴍ sᴏᴄɪᴀʟ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ

i know. "But I just use it to relax." Do you? Do you really? Because last time u checked, scrolling through Instagram or tiktok for hours and comparing your life to a bunch of people who only post their highlight reels doesn’t exactly scream relaxation.

Social media is draining u .fr u don’t even realize it half the time, but it’s constantly feeding your brain unrealistic expectations. One second you’re watching someone’s “That Girl” morning routine, and the next, you feel like a failure because you don’t wake up at 5 AM to drink matcha and do yoga on a balcony.

And don’t even get me started on doomscrolling. Like, do I need to know every bad thing happening in the world the second I wake up? No. But do I do it anyway? Also yes. And then I wonder why I feel like shit before my day even starts.

So hear me out pookie log off. Even for just a day. Delete the apps if you have to limit time . Go touch some grass. Read a book. Hell stare at the ceiling if you want. Just give your brain a break from the constant noise. Trust me, you’ll feel a million times lighter.

ᡣ𐭩sᴛᴇᴘ ғᴏᴜʀ: sᴛᴏᴘ ᴍᴇᴀsᴜʀɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴏʀᴛʜ ʙʏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴠɪᴛʏ

I used to think that if I wasn’t being productive, I wasn’t worth anything. Like, if I wasn’t working, studying, or doing something “useful,” I was just wasting my life. And if I had a day where I didn’t get anything done? the self-hate would kick in.

But fr your value is not based on how much you do. You are not just a machine made to produce work and complete tasks. You are a human being who deserves to exist without constantly proving yourself.

Think about it .. do you judge your friends based on how productive they are? Do you stop loving someone just because they took a lazy day? No. So why do you do it to yourself?Taking a break doesn’t make you a failure. Resting doesn’t make you lazy. And slowing down doesn’t mean you’re falling behind. Sometimes, the most productive thing you can do is give yourself space to breathe.

ᡣ𐭩 ᴛʜᴇ 𝟷-ʜᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴇᴛʜᴏᴅ: ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪғᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ʙᴜʀɴᴏᴜᴛ

U feel exhausted, unmotivated, and even simple tasks feel like a challenge. You know you need to do something, but damn you can’t even bring yourself to move. I get it.

So here’s the deal We’re not fixing your whole life in one day buuuut Instead, we’re using the 1-Hour Method—because when you’re burnt out, committing to an entire day of productivity feels impossible. But one hour? That’s doable.

Step 1: The One-Hour Reset

You don’t need to “fix” everything. Just commit to one hour of doing something that will make you feel 1% better. That’s it.

⏳ The Rules:

Set a timer for 60 minutes.

Pick 2-3 small things that will make you feel lighter.

Do them with zero pressure. Imperfect action > no action.

Examples:

⏰ Minute 0-10: Get out of bed. Wash your face. Brush your teeth. You don’t need a full “that girl” routine, just refresh yourself.

⏰ Minute 10-20: Make your space 5% cleaner. Not a full deep clean—just clear the trash, fold a blanket, or open the window. Small changes, big difference.

⏰ Minute 20-40: Do one small productive task—answer an email, write one sentence of an essay, organize one folder. Just something that reminds you that you can do things.

⏰ Minute 40-60: Move your body. Stretch, walk around, dance to a song—anything to shake off the mental fog.

One hour down, and I guarantee you’ll feel even slightly better than before.

Step 2: The 1-Hour Rule for Self-Comparison

Nothing drains your energy more than constantly feeling behind in life. Comparing yourself to others? Yeah, that’s a fast track to burnout.But the people u’re comparing yourself to? They have bad days too. They feel lost too. They struggle too. You just don’t see it.

So for the next hour try this:

Write down 3 things you’ve accomplished last days or months No matter how small. Maybe you learned a new skill, took care of yourself on a rough day, or simply kept going when you wanted to quit. That counts.

Unfollow or mute accounts that make you feel “less than.” If it doesn’t inspire you, it’s draining you Simple.

Shift your mindset. Instead of “Why am I not there yet?” ask “How can I grow at my own pace?”

You’re doing better than you think. You don’t need to rush. Your journey is yours.

Step 3: The 1-Hour Rule for Overwhelm

Burnout often comes from having too much on your plate. So, instead of drowning in to-do lists, use this:

→ Pick 1 hour a day to focus on just ONE thing. No multitasking. No distractions. Just one task that actually matters.When you train your brain to handle things one at a time, everything feels less overwhelming.

You don’t have to “get your life together” overnight. You just have to start.

ᡣ𐭩sᴛᴇᴘ ғɪᴠᴇ: ғɪɴᴅ ᴊᴏʏ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ (ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ sᴍᴀʟʟᴇsᴛ ᴛʜɪɴɢs)

I know what you’re thinking “ I don’t even remember what joy feels like.” And I get it. When you’re burnt out, everything feels dull, like life lost its color.But you can bring it back. And no, I’m not saying you need to go on some self-discovery journey. Sometimes, it starts with the smallest things listening to a song you used to love, rewatching a movie that made you happy, making a dumb inside joke with a friend, buying yourself a little treat just because , go through ur old photos, remember ur high grades or whatever makes u joyful and full of love

Joy isn’t always some big Sometimes it’s just a tiny moment that reminds you life isn’t all stress and exhaustion.And the more you find those small moments, the more you start to feel alive again.

ᡣ𐭩 ʟᴀsᴛ sᴛᴇᴘ : ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ, ɪ sᴡᴇᴀʀ

If you’re reading this and thinking, “Damn, I don’t even know where to start,” that’s okay. Just start small. Start with one thing whether it’s being kinder to yourself, taking an actual rest day, stepping away from social media, or just reminding yourself that burnout does not define you.Because you will get through this. You’re stronger than you think. And one day, you’re gonna look back at this version of yourself and be so damn proud that you kept going.

Until then? Take it one step at a time or even an hour at the time be gentle with yourself pookie and remember: you are not alone in this.

@bloomzone

[sossolei]

things that have helped me shift ⊹₊⟡⋆

DISCLAIMER, Just because I have shifted before doesn’t mean I am the Library of Alexandria. I’m a person just like you, learning as I go so I don’t have the answer to everything but I do try! I’m also not saying any of this will absolutely, 100% make you shift, but hopefully it can provide some perspective or insight into something you hadn’t thought about! !!! ANTIS DNI !!!

LANGUAGE — I’ve noticed since I first got into shifting that shifters will talk about/treat these realities like fanfiction or a role playing kinda thing??? It confused me before I had shifted because if this is real then why are people talking about themselves in the third person, or referring to others as “npc/non main characters”, or scripting in some crazy trauma for “fun”??? If you read anything of mine, you will notice I do not use words like “main character” or even “desired reality” because for me personally, it’s just reinforcing in my mind that this is not something that’s real or even close to something I can achieve.

Cut out third person language entirely. Stop referring to your “failed shifting attempts” as such, in fact, stop referencing it AT ALL. Stop keeping track. Stop referring to people in these realities as “main characters” or “npcs.” Stop coming back from an attempt thinking “damn I didn’t shift.”

INSTEAD, start saying that you shifted every time you attempt. “But I woke up in my O.R” who says? only you have a say in whatever reality you want to live in. Fake it til you make it. Start talking about people as they are, people. Use their names or nicknames. Watch a TikTok and think to yourself “yeah I’d send this to them.” FEEELLLLL IT. MAKE IT REAL TO YOUUUU.

LOGIC — After successfully shifting, I don’t tend to think about the “science” or “spiritual” side anymore BUT this is the logic that makes the most sense to me and is the simplest explanation I can think of. When you wake up in the morning, do you first check your phone or stand up to brush your teeth or stretch? Whatever path you choose is a shift in your reality. Every single choice you’ve ever made is a shift in your reality. As far as you know, if you checked your phone instead of stretching, you might pull something later on in the day that you wouldn’t have pulled had you stretched. But you didn’t. And now there’s a reality where you stretched, did the exact things, and didn’t pull a muscle because you stretched that morning.

THAT is reality shifting in its simplest form.

Manifesting can even be considered reality shifting because you’re shifting your current consciousness into one that is receiving said manifestion. The universe is infinite. Do not let the constrictions of others constrain you too.

“Yeah you can shift realities but not to those fantasy places like hogwarts, that’s not possible” why not? If you’ve just admitted can shift realities, why are “fantasy” realities so different to you? Because HERE in THIS reality, they are fantasy. In that reality, it is everyday, it is normal, it’s just another Tuesday. Shifting is simply becoming aware of your consciousness in another reality, similar to switching characters in video game like The Sims 4, from one plumbob to another and yes, that easy.

MEDITATION — You don’t need anything to shift realistically, but the one thing I recommend for anything is meditating. It’s a skill and, like any other, one that can be refined and perfected over time. Learning to get into a state of pure consciousness is a practice that existed for centuries, anybody can do it and doing it will only ever benefit you. You can meditate when you wake up, before you fall asleep, when you’re sitting up, WHENEVER! I’ve always felt better after a meditation, shifting related or not. It also helps me feel better when I don’t end up shifting because at least I’ve honed in and practiced that meditation technique, yk? Positives in everything!

OTHER PRACTICES — If nothing else, I recommend trying different spiritual practices and adding a lil sprinkle of shifting in there! This applies to religion as well in case that isn’t clear lol. If you don’t follow any specific spiritual practice, try pegan spell work (with protection and research ofc), research any herbs that aid in things like enhancing spiritual energy. If you pray to a God, you can “work” with your God in a sense to aid you in this personal journey, whether that be through journaling or actual prayer, prayer is an amazing manifestion technique and I do believe it can help with reality shifting considering it’s not against any religions. And if you don’t want to do any of this, come up with something for you and you only! A ritual can be anything you make it. You decide what works for you at the end of the day.

REMOVAL — This helped me the most in my opinion, I completely stepped away from online communities doing anything with reality shifting ( specifically shifttok ) and followed my own intuition of how to go about shifting, doing shadow work to figure out any blockages/questions I had, and just overall made shifting fun again for myself! The main thing I did was learn more about manifesting because the manifestion community does NOT play, they do not believe in limitations and they love LOA(ssumption) which is my fav so!

LUCID DREAMING — Not the actual act of lucid dreaming but learning about lucid dreaming and astral projection really makes you understand that anti shifters are so ignorant to what these things actually are it’s insane! People didn’t even believe that you could control your dreams 10-20 years ago, they genuinely thought dreams were just something that happens to you. Nowadays, we obviously know that you can control your dreams but this is just proof that nobody knows what they’re talking about fr. I guarantee you, a few years from now, people are gonna be talking about reality shifting the same way they talk about lucid dreaming, CASUALLY. Reality shifting is not some big thing of grandeur that only “special” people can do, the same way everyone can lucid dream, is the same way everyone can reality shift, and astral project.

All this is to say, stop fucking listening to other people LMAOOO. That’s gonna be my advice every single time because too much of anything will become a problem. Advice is good when you’re starting out and I don’t mind giving advice on that, but nobody knows you better than you know yourself, even if you don’t think you know what to do, I PROMISE you on everything, you know what’s best for you. You know what works, and you know what doesn’t, YOU KNOW. Believe yourself. Nobody else matters.

“you are the light. it’s not on you, it’s in you. don’t you ever in your motherfucking

life dim your light for nobody.”

[infevious]

I NEED a part 2 of that Latino kinich pls pls make it fluffy 😭🙏🏻🙏🏻

APOLOGIES

a/n: pt 2 of this !! probs ooc 😓 im also surprise surprise high as balls again so im probably thinking im writing shit shakespeare himself couldn’t but it’s actually ass. i also have a test tomorrow and need to sleep early today so pls dont hate me for not writing an actual ending i’ll finish tomorrow maybe 😭😭😭

…………………………………………….

The final straw for the hunter was when he saw you and Yaotyl playing around, he hated how the man was touching you, he had tried convincing himself he wasn’t jealous but he knew he was lying to himself. His saurian companion only added salt to the wound.

“Would you look at that! She’s enjoying her time with someone else while you’re over here looking like a kicked puppy- you ever seen her smile that big? Maybe you should just jump off the nearest cliff to end this horrible feeling!”

.

.

.

.

You were walking home after a long day of commissions, the sun was setting and all you wanted to do was rot in bed the rest of the evening. You heard some footsteps behind you but thought nothing of it, multiple people use this path it’s nothing, you kept walking until you felt someone grab your hand and turn you towards them.

It was Kinich. He let go of your hand and gripped your arm, pulling you close to his chest, a little too close, and you could tell he was annoyed.

“Why have you been ignoring me?”

You blinked. Didn’t he tell you you were being annoying? You blinked again.

“I’m not ignoring you..”

“Bullshit” His grip on your arm tightened. “You haven’t talked to me in weeks.”

“I’ve just been..busy..?”

Wow. Best liar in all of Teyvat he’s surly going to be convinced.

“Uh huh? Busy with what? Busy with everyone in Natlan that you can’t even spare me a glance?”

“Why do you care? I thought you said I was annoying?”

He bit his lip and looked down for a moment before looking back at you.

“I did…but you’re my f-” He sighed, mentally cursing at himself for caring so much. He didn’t really mind you ignoring him for the first couple of days, but when he saw you were with another man he realized how bad he regretted it, he realized his feelings for you.

“You’re my friend. I just needed some time alone.”

You felt your throat start to burn a bit. Friend. You should have known, you never had a chance with him. You swallowed the feeling back and looked down.

“Okay”

Okay? That’s it? You’ve ignored him for almost a month and the only thing you can say is okay?

He gripped your arm tighter and pulled you closer.

“Is that all you’re going to say? Okay?”

“Well what do you want me to say!?”

That came out a little louder than expected but whatever..all you wanted right now was to rush home and lock yourself in your room.

“Anything other than okay!”

“I’m sorry for listening to you and giving you the space you wanted!”

He scoffed and let you go, crossing his arms and looking away. He knew he should just apologize to you so you two could go back to before and get past this.

“..I’m sorry”

Your eyes widened. You didn’t really expect that.

“What?”

“I said i’m sorry alright?”

.

.

.

.

After a while, it was actually a day and a half, you two were finally back to normal, you just tried to tone it down a bit. He noticed that, but he also noticed how your hand stopped brushing against his when you would walk together, how you seemed slightly less cheery when talking to him, how you stopped looking at him with a small little smile when he would talk.

He was walking back to a customer after finishing a commission when he heard your voice.

“-I don’t know how long I can take it anymore..! I can’t get rid of my stupid feelings! How do I make them go away!?”

He saw you shake Mualani as you looked like you were about to burst out into tears. Feelings? What feelings? Who were you talking about? His eyebrows furrowed as he continued to listen to what you were talking about.

“Uh- how are you sure he doesn’t like you back?”

“He was annoyed at me for spending time with him! He called me a friend..!”

Wait. Was it him you were talking about? He almost started praying to the archons then and there that it was him, he was ready to pay what ever price if you could return his feelings. He was snapped back into his thoughts as he heard Mualani confirm.

“Kinich is a weird guy, who knows?”

“Lani don’t get my hopes up..”

She gave you a small smile and then noticed Kinich standing a few feet behind you. She saw how his cheeks were slightly blushed and raised her eyebrow. He realized that she saw him and quickly left to find the customer.

Interesting.

…………………………………………….

[brights-place]

I’m thinking Floyd x Reader for Valentine’s Day, where, Reader really likes Floyd but is obviously too scared to say anything(like a lot of ppl would be with him…) because of the obvious fear he won’t like them back due to his nature of frequently changing his interests, and his mood swings as the added bonus.

Floyd, however, is also taking a serious liking to Reader but he doesn’t realize it himself, just following his instinct that Reader is really important to him, but both Azul and Jade can tell quite well that he’s not just “normal” about Reader. Reader is oblivious to his actions cause they think it’s normal, but they both are eventually given a slight push to confess by Jade and Azul, Azul does it more so for the sake of his business, but after that, then happily ever after…BOOM

WRITE IT OR DON’T, FEEL FREE TO CHANGE OR INTERPRET ANYTHING DIFFERENTLY IF YOUD LIKE :3

(Damn I yapped too much…and you totally don’t know me or have been talking to me…and we’re totally not moots…totally, and I’m definitely not MsCherub, like I’m definitely not her, she sucks <3)

[TWST] Floyd Leech X Reader

Warnings: Floyd Leech

A/N: Ah yes this def isn't my mutual sure sure... anyways FLOYD OUT OF ALL PEOPLE YEESH your a freakazoid... (I literally love octanivelle but I will take that to my grave) also I'M SO TIRED WTF DID I EVEN WRITE I THINK I HALF ASSED IT OMG CAUSE I WANTED TO TRY SOMTHING NEW THAT WASN'T HEADCANNONS Also like I think I dropped this on its head because I dont usually write You/your in first perspective only headcannons cause its short so this made me die IM SORRY ANYWAYS HAPPY VALENTINES DAY EVERYBODY! If your like me and have nobody or are also like me who hates couples/J then YAY we can celebrate that together. I plan to be a menace to my friends relationships and make them pay for my food when we go out cause Yes anyways enjoy this and happy valentines day or whatever you celebrate!

Summary: [MC] has a crush on Floyd but they can't talk to floyd out of obvious fear for not only who Floyd is known as but aswell as the fear he won’t like them back due to his nature of frequently changing his interests, and his mood swings as the added bonus. Floyd, however, is also taking a serious liking to MC but he doesn’t realize it himself, just following his instinct that Reader is really important to him, but both Azul and Jade can tell quite well that he’s not just “normal” about Reader. Reader is oblivious to his actions cause they think it’s normal, but they both are eventually given a slight push to confess by Jade and Azul, Azul does it more so for the sake of his business, but after that, then happily ever after…BOOM

Being interested into Floyd Leech was already a warning sign from the start. Out of everybody you could be able to like it was somebody with a bad reputation for one of the many scary things in NRC.

Not only was your crush from Octanivelle one fo the shadiest dorms even if being dubbed A dorm based on the Sea Witch's spirit of benevolence but one of the Tweels a Leech twin the one who is known to be filled with mood swings and quick to loose interests faster then the speed of light could even react to was a crush YOUR crush. A huge mistake on your part not only for falling for him but for having Grim staring at you and shouting at you hitting you with a pillow for being a baffoon for falling for Floyd. The guy was unable to read along with the fact he and the other two in octanivelle had him work in soapy dishes how could you do this to him :O When Ace and Deuce figured out that well you liked Floyd they stared at you as if you got possessed by a demon even worse is the fact you were in ramshackle overthinking plotting every outcome every change every thing that could happen for better or for worse as Ace and Deuce 'helped' more like Ace was asking if you were mentally okay and Deuce awkwardly telling you that he supports your choices but floyd was unpredictable someone who could get bored of you easily.

Which always made them all wary since Floyd was getting close to you abit too much how he was close to you looking over your shoulder clinging to your body boredly calling you out and cheering when seeing you but when floyd isn’t in the mood he’d scowl even when he goes to find you. Nobody knows why but it scares the shit out of Ace and Deuce who were still trying to convince you that it might not be a good idea due to how unpredictable he is which you already knew.

Floyd leech was a person who was unpredictable always switching up and that fear knawed at your chest. His mood swings make it hard to predict what he'll say or do next aswell so the thought of him denying your relationship hurt but the other hand is if you did start to question what if he lost interest fast what if he wouldn’t hang around you anymore because you became Boring. Yet fear still lingered as your hands gripped onto a sheet of paper in front of you one of the basic ways of confessing yet the paper in your hands was something that you put effort into.

Recently through days you would have the letter inside your blazer pockets. Walking class to class passing in the hallway to head to the cafeteria where Grim, Deuce and Ace were.

You couldn’t help but keep your attention focused on the floor weaving through people shoes clacking against the tiles below mind rambling with thoughts.

Though today a certain twin eel spotted you head down headphones in and heading towards the cafeteria "Shrimpyyyy" you couldn't help but freeze when you saw Floyd wrap an arm over your shoulder bending down to your face as you let out an awkward chuckle greeting the male who made you tense tighter with his hand placing on your waist for a moment. You smiled towards the male who grinned lazily "Open your hand" you couldn't help but blink before opening your hand out to floyd who held your hands for a moment before he closed your hand into a fist before he plopped his chin ontop of your head as you opened your closed fist to see a pearl covered in a silver and gold mixed band that wrapped around it. A sound of confusion came from you as your eyes continued to lay onto the pearl ring "Ya like it?" your eyes snapped back into focus to floyd as you blinked nodding slowly "yeah... thanks" Floyd beamed before the two of you continued to walk together many students left the hallway trying to get away from where you two were standing. Where FLOYD was standing. Most people in school avoided the eel like the plague yet here you were close to Floyd who was rambling to you "So where we goin?" "OH I just plan to eat with Ace and Deuce" Floyd couldn't help but hum before looking away to the garden grinning to see a small pond before grabbing you and yanking you towards the direction "Sounds boring let's go there!" "EH?! FLOYD!" Even with him dragging you around you couldn't help but giggle at how he was dragging you around with a huge grin rambling to you. Clinging to you. Though Riddle would now seem to bolt out of the room. You have never scene the boy run so fast in your life not even in beanfest but when it came to Floyd? and now You he was gone in a flash because wherever you were Floyd would somehow appear. This would happen even more recently now he'd cling to your body threaten to squeeze someone and would drag you around with a lazily smile eyes staring at you. Unaware of Jade and Azul watching from afar with a fussing Grim who was trying to get them to leave you alone.

When Floyd got pointed out by Jade how he seemed to be getting very close to the prefect Floyd would shake it off until jade would mock his brother with a grin with how he's been doing mer courting and eel mating rituals. Floyd scoffed at Jade "Eh? Shrimpy and I are just friends" "Indeed so but what about how you two were knotted together one time when at the library?" "They were cold" "And when you yawned showing your teeth" Floyds eye twitched towards his brother as Jade continued "Dancing with Shrimpy in the sea at school hours nuzzling against them aggressively and Creating a pearl ring for them without knowing anything about jewelry, giving them scales, a tooth, along with-" Floyd was so close to tackling his brother in annoyance scowling as Azul even agreed how Floyd has been not going to many of his shifts but he didn't know the reason why. Floyd though soon realized that he may have been doing merfolk courting rituals. Though he didn't find it any change he still like shrimpy for being shrimpy so he continued to do what he did anyway even with a pissed off Azul trying to find him when he randomly disappears.

After that he’d keep approaching you with odd and sweet gifts. He'd hand you shells, metal, shiny items, and three times with someones tooth that he got... along with a handful of scales that you paled at awkwardly taking them. Floyd has never experienced the crush stage and he doesn't want to after all that's boring but hey he enjoyed seeing your little reactions.

The sound of clanking utensils, chatter and jazz filled the room of monstro lounge along with the wafting scents of different platters of food escaping the kitchen where a certain Tweel was cooking with an annoyed look plastered onto his face.

The male infront of the pan stopped what he was doing and turned his attention to a octanivelle student beside him who flinched. Floyds right gold eye glinting with his olive brown one “Oy… take my shift” he said leaving the pan and chucking the apron onto the students face causing them to flinch and let out a noise of confusion turning to try get their upperclassman to get back to work yet was met with the kitchen doors shutting as the student frowned “Thats so not fair”

Floyd trudged through monstro lounge passing Jades post where he was cleaning the glasses the other twin staring at his brother “Floyd leaving once more?” The male leaned against the counter grinning lazily “yeah I got bored” Jade let out a loud hum of acknowledgment smiling at floyd.

“Are you off to visit the prefect?” Jade questioned as Floyd moved lazily to his brother and grinned “Yeah I’m visiting shrimpy” Jade hummed closing his eyes and giving another grin “Well then maybe give them some of the chocolates to try out for monstro lounge that Azul has made for our valentines day menu” Jade placed down the glass he was cleaning to the side. Floyd let out a tired “Sure” before snagging one of the decorated heart boxes leaving monstro lounge door closing behind him.

The moment Floyd left Azul walked over to the bar where Jade was stationed “JADE! Where is floyd he’s on his shift and I usually wouldn’t care but were dealing with rush hour right now” Azul said fixing his glasses with a strained tone “Ah… He left to visit the prefect” “Again?!” Azul replied eyebrows furrowed biting his lip in annoyance at the amount of work that Floyd has recently been avoiding “Tsk… It seems we have to have a chat with the prefect so we can discuss why floyd keeps on leaving his shifts… such a hassle” Jade handed the octopus mer a glass of water that he drank quietly “How long do you think Floyd will last?” Jade questioned Azul causing his boss to look at him confused “With?” “The prefect… You know it I know it. It’s been quite entertaining to see the Prefect relax around Floyd, and Floyd being more affectionate in a way with the prefect infact last week he went to the beach and got them a pearl he was showing it off to me after he got it asking if I knew how to make it a ring” Azul’s face paled “He WHAT?!” Jade grinned behind his hand staring at him “Oh he mustn’t have told you” “FLOYD”

Floyd started heading over to ramshackle hands playing with the weird heart shaped box filled with sweets a look of boredomn on his face before hearing quiet muttering up ahead of a famillar person. You Floyd grinned to see you hunched over muttering to yourself while holding a piece of paper an envelope in your hands "Shrimpyyyy" You couldn't help but flinch snapping your head over to floyd while you gripped onto the envelope "Floyd!" You exclaimed eyes wide and body tense as Floyd grinned "Whats this" he said taking the envelope from you handing you the chocolate box "Oh yeah Jade and Azul wanted you to try those out... I think I just snagged one" he shrugged leaning beside you on a pillar as you awkwardly thanked him but tried to snatch back the small envelope in his hand that he lifted away from you grinning as he kept a hand on your head to keep you down. Floyd eyes wandered through the letter his teasing grin pausing as he had a blank face one that he'd use when he'd find someone annoying or boring eyes focused onto the sheet of paper in his hand. He slowly turned to you as you stared at him with sheer panic and shaky pupils "I- Just let me explain! just if you don't like me back thats fine completely ignore me just don't hold this against me ignore everything I said please-" Your rambling was cut off when you felt arms grab onto you swaying you around giggling happily with closed eyes "AHH SHRIMPY~! Your so stupid" he beamed squeezing you tighter in a bone crushing hug.

Later on you'd somehow find yourself dragged back into monstro lounge by Azul with Floyd appearing every now and then grinning at you. Unaware if you were dating or not but with how affectionate he's been getting recently after that gave your answer. Azul though would now have to start paying you to come to monstro lounge so Floyd doesn't leave to go find you more as he continued to complain about financial funds but hey you finally got to date a moray eel mer... who surprisingly clings onto you when you cuddle and sleep together chewing on your shoulder lightly while drooling. Bonus OF WHAT THE FUCKERY:

Azul: BOBBY (Floyd) ! Floyd: AAAAAGHHHH Azul: I just bought this imaginary festival. Now I want you off the roof Floyd: IM ON DRUGS Azul: The only drug you're on is loneliness [MC]: Is- is this normal... Jade: Mhm

[the-sappho-of-lesbos]

Everyone not including my dad is outwardly accepting of my homosexuality and relationship with my gf but sometimes it doesn’t feel like full acceptance. In the sense it’s not seen as neutral or as loved as my sister and her fiancé.

It’s something that’s said directly and I know if I ever brought it up it would be denied. But there is just this slight level of awkward or disengaged atmosphere around it that makes me feel so incredibly lonely.

I know I should be grateful they aren’t overtly homophobic. And I am. But this vibe is still slowly draining me.

Especially with my brother. I know he’s only 16 and maybe it’s an internalised thing for him because I’ve had my suspicions he is bisexual for years now, but the older he gets the more conservative talking points I see him slipping into. It feels like he just doesn’t understand the fact that I’m gay , or that it’s an issue / annoying for him.

It’s like anything I say that can be gay is made fun of or mocked or treated like it’s bothersome. My siblings and I tend to watch shows and movies together and if I do often as go “ohhhh maybe they are gay” in relation to a character I get “why is everything gay to you? Why do all characters have to be gay ?”

Which one isn’t even true lol. But also if it was WHY is that annoying. Why is that upsetting. Why is that something that needs to be laughed at.

Or just inherently thinking something I say is sexual even when it’s a super common thing. Last year I said my gf was often the little spoon and my sister and brother got uncomfortable because they thought it was a sexual thing I was talking about. Which like WHY would I talk about that infront of my younger brother ?? But also WHO doesn’t know what a little spoon is? I feel like they just shoved me into this sexual box. If I was dating a man and said he was a little spoon I highly doubt they would have done that.

I don’t even think they realise these things come from a place of homophobia and it just hurts.

It’s so lonely.

I obviously have my gf but when so many people do so many things to isolate because of my sexuality and because of my relationship it’s hard. It’s hard to feel like I’m being punished for something that brings me joy. It sours things.

[wannabehockeygf]

Thinking about younger gf n sid........maybe him getting hurt and it makes him think of the age gap, thinking that you deserve someone your age, who gets what you're talking about and understands all your little references.....etcetc

sidney hates being injured. he hates sitting still, hates relying on other people, hates the way his body betrays him in ways it never used to. but if there’s one silver lining to this whole mess, it’s you.

you’ve been taking care of him—making sure he has everything he needs, fussing over him even when he grumbles about it. you’re sweet about it, too, curling up next to him on the couch, draping a blanket over his legs, pressing a kiss to his forehead like it’s second nature.

he should be grateful. he is grateful.

but tonight, as you tuck yourself into his side, scrolling through your phone while he half-watches a movie, something starts to gnaw at him.

“you need anything?” you ask absently, fingers tracing light patterns on his arm.

“nah, i’m good.”

“good, ‘cause i’m not getting up,” you say, stretching like a cat. “i'm settled in for the night.”

he chuckles, but then you add, “like a little guy in a silly goofy mood,” and he has no idea what you’re talking about.

he’s gotten used to this—your endless references to things he doesn’t understand. sometimes it’s a movie, sometimes a meme, sometimes a song he’s never heard. half the time, you don’t even notice you’re doing it, and he’s left scrambling to keep up.

tonight, for some reason, it stings.

he shifts, just enough that you glance up at him. “you okay?”

he hesitates, then exhales slowly. “you ever think… you’d be better off with someone your own age?”

your brows furrow. “where is this coming from?”

he gestures vaguely. “you say things, and i don’t get them. feels like there’s a whole world you understand that i never will.”

for a moment, you just look at him. then, slowly, you sit up, turning to face him fully. “sid,” you say, voice softer now, “do you think i care about that?”

“i don’t know. maybe you should.”

“okay, well, i don’t.” you take his hand, threading your fingers through his. “i don’t care if you don’t get every stupid meme or tiktok trend. i care that you let me take care of you when you’re too stubborn to admit you need it. i care that you listen to me ramble about dumb things even when you have no clue what i’m talking about. i care that you’re you.”

his chest tightens. “you sure?”

“so sure.” you squeeze his hand. “now, shut up and let me love you, old man.”

he huffs a laugh, shaking his head. but when you snuggle back into his side, he holds you a little tighter, hoping you’ll stay.

[wendichester]

`౨ৎ~ before standford,

summary. sam comes to say goodbye before he leaves.

pairing. sam winchester x reader ; angsty

wordcount. 675

Sam doesn’t know how long he’s been standing outside your door.

Long enough for the porch light to flicker once. Long enough for the lump in his throat to feel damn near permanent.

This is the last stop before Stanford. Before everything changes.

And God, he doesn’t want to knock.

But he does.

The sound is too soft, too hesitant—nothing like the fight he just had with his dad, all raised voices and burning bridges. This knock is careful. Almost reluctant.

A few seconds pass before the door opens, and there you are.

Sam’s stomach twists.

Barefoot, wearing an oversized sweater that’s probably older than both of you, hair messy like you’d just been about to go to bed. You look soft, warm—like home.

"Sam?" Your brows furrow as you take him in. His duffel bag slung over one shoulder, the tight set of his jaw, the weight in his eyes.

And because you know him—because you’ve always known him better than anyone—you don’t ask what happened. You already know.

Instead, you exhale slowly and step aside. "Come in."

Sam hesitates. Just for a second.

Then he does.

The house smells the same—like old books and cinnamon and the faint trace of gun oil. The walls are lined with pictures that don’t belong to people who get out. People like you.

You lead him to the couch, sitting close, knee bumping his. You don’t say anything, just wait.

His throat works. He stares down at his hands. "I’m leaving."

You nod. "I figured."

His head snaps up. "You figured?"

You give him a small, sad smile. "You’ve been talking about this since we were kids, Sam. It was never if you were going—it was when."

He looks away. His chest is tight. "I had to see you before I left."

You nod again, like you understand. Because of course you do.

A long beat of silence stretches between you.

"You scared?" you ask softly.

Sam lets out a breath. "Terrified."

A pause. Then, you say, "Me too."

His eyes flicker to yours, something sharp and aching lodging in his chest.

Because this is what makes it so hard. You.

You’re the only person who ever really got it—the longing for something beyond endless hunts and bloody motel rooms. The dream of normalcy, of stability, of waking up one day and not being afraid.

He should ask you to come with him.

The words sit heavy on his tongue.

But he doesn’t.

Because you won’t.

Because no matter how much you want the same things, you won’t leave.

And he will.

"You’re gonna do great things," you say, voice steady, like you believe it. Like it’s already written in stone.

Sam swallows hard. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you whisper.

He exhales shakily, running a hand through his hair. "God, this is harder than I thought."

Your lips quirk, but your eyes stay sad. "You could just stay."

It’s a joke. He knows it’s a joke.

But it still hits him like a punch to the gut.

"You know I can’t," he says.

You nod, looking down. "I know."

Another silence.

Then, before he can talk himself out of it, he moves.

Pulls you into a tight, desperate hug. Breathes you in like he’s trying to memorize the way you smell, the way you feel in his arms.

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his jacket, gripping tight, like you don’t want to let go.

"Don’t forget about me, okay?" you murmur against his shoulder.

Sam’s chest clenches painfully.

"Not possible," he whispers.

He pulls back just enough to look at you. Your face is too close. Your lips are right there.

And God—if things were different.

If this were a world where he wasn’t about to walk out of it.

But it’s not.

So instead, he presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. Lets his lips rest there for just a second longer than he should.

Then he stands.

And as he doesn't glance back before closing the door, you know—you're certain—he's already trying to forget you.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @mrs-pondwater19 ⋆ @myceliumsunshine ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @bamboobooshark ⋆ @ocelotlist51 ⋆ @lelapine ⋆ @pwin098

[scoops404]

for the writing prompts: dnf (or dream team) karaoke??

Hi there!! I have fulfilled this prompt. It's not beta'd so don't hate me

Under the cut, ~2K

“You have to sing, George, what are you, a pussy?” Sapnap asks, leaning back and crossing his arms. The music is blaring in George’s ears, the off-key rendition of Defying Gravity grating on his nerves.

“I’m not singing, idiot,” George says, because he knows his boundaries and he simply doesn’t want to.

“Pussy, then,” Sapnap says with an easy shrug, like he’s always suspected it and now it’s confirmed to be true.

“Leave him alone,” Dream says, coming back and placing three drinks on their table. He insisted on buying the first round and if history has shown anything, he’ll likely be buying all the rounds.

George grabs the vodka cranberry and sips it through the little black straw that came with it. It’s tart and heavy on the vodka. He makes a face.

“Can’t sing karaoke, can’t sip his little fruity drink,” Sapnap lists off, being an asshole. “Tell me, what can you do successfully?”

“I can fuck your mother successfully,” George says.

Sapnap’s face turns ruddy, but Dream puts a hand on his shoulder before he can say anything else. “Alright, that’s enough you two. Settle down.”

“He started it,” Sapnap says, childishly. George almost denies it on principle, eager to make sure it’s known that he did not, in fact, start it. Sapnap did by trying to coerce him into signing up to sing in front of a live audience.

Not fucking happening.

“Well, I ended it,” Dream says easily, a smirk forming around his straw like he’s pleased with himself. He takes a long drag of whatever cocktail he ended up going with—some blue monstrosity that was probably the bar’s special or something.

Sapnap huffs under his breath.

“What are you singing, Dream?” George asks, even though he’s already listened to Dream ramble about this for the last week.

None of them want to steal the stage or anything, but Dream was talking about missing performing and then George was finding a way to give that to him—just a once a month bar that does live band karaoke. And it was a plan. George read all the reviews and learned they needed to get there early for seats and to sign up before all the slots were filled.

Dream lists off a few different songs and then stands up, declaring that he’ll figure it out as he’s filling out the form by the DJ booth.

“You’re not going with him?” George asks Sapnap, taking another sip of his drink.

“What am I, crazy?” Sapnap asks, though he should know better. That’s like giving George an alleyoop.

“Do you really want me to answer that? George says.

Sapnap rolls his eyes and takes a large gulp of his beer, downing at least half of it. He takes a deep breath when he comes up for air and then belches.

“Gross,” George says, but he’s rather impressed.

“No way am I singing,” Sapnap says. “At least not without like ten more of these bad boys.” He lifts his drink up and cheerses George’s glass, like maybe George wasn’t sure what he was talking about.

“And yet you wanted me to?” George says.

“Well, yeah, because that would be funny,” Sapnap says, unashamed. “I was going to film it and put it up on Snapchat.”

“Like I’d let you get free content like that from me,” George says, shaking his head.

The night’s entertainment starts. Dream comes back to the table with a fresh round of drinks, prompting George to chug his last vodka cran so that he can get started on this one.

The first girl to sing chooses a Disney song and George pays little attention to it. Sapnap’s been eyeing a girl across the bar with a black crop top on when he thinks no one is looking. Dream’s foot taps under the table, close enough to George’s that sometimes the sole of his shoe lands on top of George’s foot.

“Don’t mess up my shoes,” George tells him seriously.

“I would never,” Dream promises, crossing his heart with his fingers.

A few more people sing and George drinks another vodka cran for lack of anything better to do. Cell service is terrible in here for some reason, so it’s too annoying to do anything on his phone.

“And now, we have Clay!” The DJ host announces, the cue for the next person to stand up and go onto the stage. George turns to Dream immediately. He’s nervously tapping his fingers, but stands up, finishes his drink, and then winks at George.

“Yeah, go get ‘em, baby!” Sapnap calls, hootin’ and hollerin’.

George shakes his head at Sapnap, but his eyes follow Dream’s form up to the stage.

“Singing the song ‘Spotlight’ by artist Dream, here’s Clay, everyone!”

George’s stomach swoops. He’s singing that song. Here. George can’t take his eyes off of Dream. This is nothing like those concerts George went to, that he performed at, this is so different. It’s so much more intimate—just a group of people getting drunk and Dream—Dream is singing this song that so many people speculate to be about George and—and he’s staring down at George.

Time stops, or so it feels. He’s stuck in the music, in the feeling of the room. Paralyzed and hypnotized by the way Dream’s mouth moves and sings the words that George has wanted so badly to be about him.

Turn off the cameras, now you’re all mine…

He wants that. He wants to be Dream’s so badly.

Sapnap might be trying to say something to him, but George doesn’t pay any attention. He’s hooked on Dream, high on the way he moves, the way the crowd is warming up to him—clapping and screaming. Neither he nor Dream are paying attention.

A superstar in my bed…

Oh fuck.

We close the curtains now it’s our time…

It’s not a very long song, but to George it feels like it’s going by too fast. He wants to live here. He wants this moment to last forever, where he can pretend this is his song. This is Dream’s song for him. He wants to be the celebrity in Dream’s head.

When the last notes play out, the crowd applauds enthusiastically. George’s reaction is delayed, waiting too long before he joins in. He doesn’t want to appear unsupportive.

“Wow,” Sapnap says while Dream hands the mic back and heads to the stage stairs. “That was really ballsy of him.”

“What do you mean?” George asks, though he’s barely paying attention to Sapnap.

“Singing that song,” Sapnap says. Dream’s back at the bar, getting another round it looks like. George watches him like a hawk, seeing the women in going out outfits coming up to talk to Dream. “Especially here. Why didn’t he just chose, like, an Eminem song?”

“You’re dumb,” George says. “Dream shouldn’t sing an Eminem song. He can’t rap. What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m just saying…” Sapnap says, throwing back the rest of this beer because he’s also noticed Dream’s coming back with more drinks.

“I liked his song,” George says, hoping he can pass this off as being a supportive friend and not, like, massively in love with Dream.

“Of course you did,” Sapnap says.

Dream clinks drinks onto the table. They must have had them ready for him with how quickly he was served. Not that it takes more than a second to even make a vodka cranberry.

“Hey,” Dream says. There’s some sweat in his curls at his temples.

“Hi,” George says.

“Cool song, bro,” Sapnap says. “I can’t believe you sang George’s stupid song. You should sing the one about me.”

“There is no song about you, Nick,” Dream says, amusement rife in his voice. He sits down heavily in his seat.

“Well, maybe you should fix that,” Sapnap says, but George’s lost the plot because Dream’s words are sinking in.

He hasn’t denied it. He didn’t say George doesn’t have a song either.

“He doesn’t need a song for you, when he has one about me,” George says, the vodka making him brave enough to brush his ankle against Dream’s under the table.

“And I have a song with you,” Dream says. “Our McDonald’s song. That’s epic.”

“You two are disgusting,” Sapnap declares. “I am going to sign up now, I think. I’m hoping they have a song called, like, Fuck You or something. Maybe Get a Room and Fuck Each Other Already, the remix. I don’t fucking know.” And he stalks off towards the booth to talk to the DJ.

“I guess those beers kicked in,” George says and then wants to punch himself.

“The list is already too long,” Dream says. “He’s not getting to sing tonight.”

“I hope everyone here knows how lucky they are,” George says, intending that to mean that they won’t hear Sapnap sing, but in the saying of the words, he realizes there’s another meaning. “They got to hear the original artist sing his song. That’s, like, really epic.”

“I bet literally no one here knew that except you and Sap,” Dream says. “Kinda made it funny, to be honest.”

“It’s not really a funny song, though,” George says.

“No, not a funny song,” Dream repeats. His eyes are dark under the lights of the bar and his face drifts closer to George, ankle hooking around George’s. “Kind of a painful song for a long time”

“What?” George asks. “Why?”

Dream takes a sip of his water before he answers. “I dunno, because the subject of the song, like…”

“What?”

“The subject of the song doesn’t feel that way about me?” he says, and looks down at the table. His hands wrap around his water glass.

“The subject of the song takes offense to that,” George says. “When are the curtains closing? There’s been no discussion of curtains closing, because I would remember if there were. I have—I have things to say behind curtains, Dream.”

“Really?” he asks, looking up.’

“Yeah, idiot,” George tells him. He leans closer. Dream smells perfect—like the cologne he wears when they go out and some fruity shampoo or conditioner. It’s so Dream. He still can’t believe he didn’t know it for so long.

“What kinds of things do you want to say behind the curtains?” Dream asks, voice tight.

“Things like ‘harder’ and ‘right there’,” George says because the alcohol has made him brave.

“So you just want—you just want the bedroom part,” Dream surmises. He’s trying to hide it, but George can sense his disappointment. God, for someone so smart, he’s so dumb.

“Not just,” George says, because he can’t make himself say more, but he can get that part out.

“Really?” Dream asks, perking up.

“Ask me properly and find out,” George says.

Sapnap wanders back over to their table. “Fucking clowns signed up too many duds and now I can’t sing,” he says, throwing himself into his chair.

“Yeah, it’s their fault,” George says, shaking his head. He doesn’t look away from Dream. He can’t. He’s not imagining it.

They’re… getting somewhere.

Outside the bar, the air is chilly for Florida. Dream calls them an Uber and Sapnap yaps away about everything and nothing, and George… George lets himself lean into Dream’s strong body in the car. George watches the lights fly by while they drive home. George waits with Dream after they’ve been dropped off back home, while Sapnap beelines inside to take a slash.

And out here with the crickets chirping and the sound of the Uber driving away, George can hear his heart over all of it.

Until Dream leans over and all he can hear is the question, “George, you wanna go out with me sometime?”

[idciminlove]

FIGHTER.

Part Eight - Like

Cinnamonacid on AO3

Kang Dae Ho x f!reader

warnings- themes of PTSD, father issues, mention of overdose (but not an actual overdose), grief, etc.

You make some new friends, and some old ones too.

Dae-Ho could still feel the warm press of your body against his. It wasn’t until he had you in his arms that he realized how small you were. Your presence was so strong, making you larger than life, like an angel or a goddess, but when he held you, you felt real. Like something attainable, something human.

You wanted to push him away at first, he could feel it. Your body tensed up, and he almost let you go, but then he felt you relax. Felt your head rest on his chest and your arms wrapped around his back, soft and gentle, as if you gripped him too hard, he would break.

You were like fire..all different kinds. A forest fire, wild, untamed and dangerous, burning anyone that got close, but also a fireplace, warm and inviting, comforting on a cruel, frigid night.

You were truly something else. He had never met anyone like you.

“Is everything okay?” 001 asked, bringing him back to reality. All of his other teammates were looking at him now, concerned from his unusual silence.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just got a little lost in thought, I guess.” He grinned, shifting his focus on their conversation instead.

–

Dae-Ho introduced himself (Dae-Ho - Dae as “huge” and Ho as “tiger,” of course) and listened to their names and the meanings behind them. He knew 456’s name was Seong Gi-Hun, since he had been called that by the other men. But he didn’t know the rest. There was 390, or Park Jung-Bae (meaning twice and righteous) who supposedly lives twice as righteously, 001, which was Oh-Young Il, his name coincidentally meaning zero one, (maybe that’s why they gave him the number), and Miss 222, Kim Jun-Hee. She didn’t know the meaning behind her name.

As they talked, he couldn’t help but gaze over at you, letting his attention drift once again. You were sitting on your bunk, all alone. He knew you probably preferred it, knew that you could handle yourself just fine, but it didn’t sit right with him, especially after the two of you had made up. Everything was okay between you two, so why couldn’t you join him?

Once again, he was standing in front of the group. He gestured to you. “Would it be okay if we had her join us?”

“I don’t know. She kinda seems like trouble.” Jung-Bae mumbled. “She got into a fight on the first day, and she doesn’t exactly seem popular around here. If we have her on our side, it might be harder to convince people to change their vote. How do you even know her, anyway?”

“She saved me in the first game. Of course, Gi-Hun was very motivating, but she was the one who really got me through it.” Dae-Ho admitted, slightly bashful.

It was the truth. Without you, he didn’t know what he would’ve done. He was in a bad way that game, with all the gunshots, blood, and screaming bringing back memories he had so desperately tried to repress. His hands were all shaky and he felt like he couldn’t breathe, and then you took his hand, and guided him through it. You truly had saved him, and he still doesn’t know why. All he knows is that he owes you one. The least he can do is look after you.

“She helped me too.” Jun-Hee chimed in. “She was the one who told me to join your group. She gave me the confidence to do it.”

Gi-Hun and Young-Il traded glances. Young-Il was the first to speak. “Sure, why not.”

Gi-Hun didn’t say anything, just nodded his head in agreement.

–

You could feel their eyes on you. Thanos and Nam-Gyu, glowering at you, watching you like a hawk watches its prey, circling like sharks in blood thirsty waters. You tried not to pay attention to them, tried not to show your fear because you knew the moment you did, they would win. So instead, you lied on your back, staring at the bunk above, gazing at the metal fixtures, and counting down the minutes until the next vote.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Dae-Ho’s head popped up from the side of the bunk, standing beside it, below you. “Hey.”

“You scared the shit out of me!” You practically jumped out of your skin, startled. You were so surprised that you almost hit your head on the bottom of the bunk above you.

“Oh, sorry. I thought you heard me.” He offered you his hand.

“What?” You asked, gazing at it hesitantly. What is this about? What does he want?

“Come with me.” It wasn’t like you had anything better to do, so you took his hand, letting him carefully help you down from his bunk. You expected him to let go of you once he had done so, but he didn’t. Instead, he kept holding your hand, leading you over to the group, the team he had been with in the pentathlon.

He finally let you go once you reached them. “You should meet my friends. This is Seong Gi-Hun, Oh Young-Il, Kim Jun-Hee, and Park Jung-Bae.”

You bowed politely. “It’s nice to meet you all.”

“Aren’t you going to tell us your name?” Jung-Bae inquired.

“Oh, yes, right.” You hesitated for a moment, gazing at Dae-Ho. He gestured to you encouragingly, a bright smile on his face. You took a deep breath and told them your name.

Jung-Bae repeated your last name. “Wait, like the famous MMA fighter?”

“Yeah. That was my Dad.”

You watched the older men’s expressions change, watched as it clicked. Who your father was, who you are, a major piece in the puzzle, falling into place. It all made sense to them now.

“Ah, the heavyweight champion, The Dragon. Gi-Hun and I were big fans. We would bet on his fights all the time.” Jung-Bae remarked, pumping his fist. “That explains how she’s so tough. Yeah, I can totally see the resemblance.”

You smiled softly. It was always such a bittersweet feeling when people recognized you and your father. There was always the awe and amazement, and then the pity. Your father had kept his family life private from the tabloids, so most didn’t know about you, and you liked that. You’d rather gain your own fame through blood, sweat, and tears, working your way up the MMA rankings instead of being known just for being someone’s daughter. What little information was known about your father was his death, rumors of his overdose spread like wildfire, whispers of him being a junkie, using during his career, when they didn’t know the true story.

No, they didn’t know anything at all.

“It was a shame what happened to him.” Jung-Bae added, pity and sympathy clear in his voice. Young-Il nodded in agreement.

Gi-Hun spoke, soft and quiet. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

You nodded, looking at the ground, unable to meet their stares. In your periphery, you could feel Dae-Ho’s eyes on you, and see his hand move, as if he wanted to reach out to you. You heard those words time and time again, so much that they lost their meaning. It’s a shame. I’m sorry. Like that would bring him back. Like it would make you feel better. You’re so tired of hearing it. You’re so tired of the pity and the guilt. You’re so, so tired.

Before your conversation could continue, the guards entered the room, thankfully shifting the focus to something else you had to worry about. They congratulated you on getting through the game, and clicked the remote. The piggy bank lit up and the bills fell in, the amount of money going up on the chart while the number of players went down.

20.1 Billion Won. 78 million won each.

The players around you complained. It still wasn’t enough.

The front guard tried to appease them. “Your concern about the prize money is completely understandable. However, we always leave the door open for you to explore other opportunities.”

A shiver went down your spine. You looked over at Thanos and Nam-Gyu. Nam-Gyu caught your gaze, a snake-like grin crossing his lips.

Two guards brought the voting podium into the front of the room. Everyone got into their lines. You sighed softly.

The cycle continues.

[zipzapfrogboy]

BYLER DOUBT BE DAMNED (An analysis on blocking and it’s significance)

Read this if you’re having doubt because I promise it will help at least a little.

(This might be sort of long and a bit unorganized because it’s my first analysis of sorts but just stick with me.)

The main thing that confirms Byler for me (and helps with doubt) is the final shots of season 4.

You know. Those.

I’m definitely not the first person to point it out but I want to talk about it a little more in depth. Specifically the blocking. It is so clearly a deliberate choice to place Mike and Will between two other canon couples (Joyce and Hopper and Nancy and Jonathan respectively). It’s most definitely foreshadowing both to romance and possibly s5 teams.

I’m a theatre kid, I’ve been acting since I was seven, I have experience and know some stuff. If directors don’t like what you’re doing or don’t think it works then they’ll tell you stop. The improv you see in shows and movies are things that were approved and stayed in because the directors wanted it to (in like 90% of cases). Same goes with blocking. Actors can’t just stand where they want unless explicitly told to do so.

Placement has purpose and meaning. It is so unbelievably specific and thought out. I have a director/theatre teacher who gave us at least a 30 minute explanation about how important stage placement is and the what it can convey. On numerous occasions she’s made us take two small steps forward, a large step back, stand a bit further from xyz, etc.

I was in a show that started rehearsing in June and the director had been planning and working on it since March or maybe even before then. Blocking (and choreography in the context of musicals) is planned for weeks to months ahead of time. Directors have visions and the reasons behind how they set scenes is to execute that vision perfectly and convey the right message and emotions.

I’m sorry if that all seemed random I’m just trying to emphasize my point.

Obviously it’s a bit different for filmed content but I don’t doubt that the same logic is applicable. You don’t place two characters who hate each other together because it doesn’t make sense story wise or character wise.

It’s thought out, planned, and so purposeful. It’s not just random placement and it’s certainly not foreshadowing just team pairings. Two characters who are a part of a complex love triangle standing between two already existing couples? Right…

And so now my question is, why?

Why else would they set it up and block it like that? Give me an answer that explains the reasoning behind that choice; the choice of having El stand alone in front of them and having her boyfriend stand next to the person who’s in love with him. What else would that mean? That’s simply not how you do blocking.

When you as a director look at something from the outsider/audience perspective you need to see it with their eyes. What else could that convey? I’m being genuine when I say I don’t see anything else. If there is another way to interpret it (that makes sense and isn’t plagued by bias) then please tell me.

It’s a perfect example of foreshadowing. El standing alone symbolizes her arc of becoming an independent person outside of romance and Hopper. Her whole story has been about learning how to be a person and be herself. Her standing out alone in the field in front of her burning hometown isn’t supposed to mean nothing.

Just like Mike and Will standing together isn’t supposed to mean nothing.

We know Jopper is endgame, I can’t see why they wouldn’t be, and I’m 90% sure that Jancy will be endgame (or if they break up it will be on good terms). So, again, why would they place Mike and Will between those people. If it was supposed to be showing how close they are and how wonderfully strong their friendship is then why did they choose those other characters? MAKE IT MAKE SENSE. IT’S THE DEFINITION OF A PARALLEL.

If I end up being wrong then idk.

Thank you for reading :)

Also there’s this so like