#I want my year to end in a different way.

[ducktracy]

"Go See The Day the Earth Blew Up" Masterpost

this isn't really anything new for anyone following me, but i wanted to make a comprehensive post covering my adamence on seeing this movie--i have a lot of different versions of a lot of different posts being spread around, and wanted to uncross the wires a bit. entering Tumblr PSA mode for a bit like it's 2013 all over again--bear with me!

before getting into the nitty gritty, though, this is a TIME SENSITIVE POST. most theaters were beginning to pull the film out as early as end of day TODAY--not even a full WEEK'S worth of a run. but, thanks to word of mouth, the film has mostly been extended to the end of the weekend. with continued word of mouth and support, the film has a chance to run even longer.

What the Heck is The Day the Earth Blew Up

The Day the Earth Blew Up is an all traditionally hand-drawn, 2D animated film starring Looney Tunes' own Porky Pig, Daffy Duck and Petunia Pig. initially announced in September of 2021, it's the very first all traditionally animated film in the franchise's entire 95 year run.

Why Haven't I Heard About The Day the Earth Blew Up

originally intended to be a direct to streaming release, this film's existence has been wrung through the wringer. for the benefit of tax cuts, Warner Bros. wrote the film off and just barely avoided axing it entirely--even during its production. the film was put up for sale and only just last summer finally was able to procure an independent distributor, Ketchup Entertainment. unfortunately, Ketchup Entertainment is a much smaller name than Warner Bros. is, and because WB isn't releasing it, it's Ketchup who is marketing and spreading the film--obviously, something incredibly difficult to do with a very small budget.

Why the Heck Should I See The Day the Earth Blew Up

hand-drawn, traditionally animated films are all but extinct in theaters, and by setting the film up for what could essentially be described as sabotage, a meager box office performance is the perfect excuse for the suits to claim that there's no more demand for traditionally animated movies anymore.

it's the first all-animated Looney Tunes film in the entire franchise's history.

you don't have to have any knowledge or attachment to the characters to enjoy the film--there are absolutely no prerequisites required (but there are plenty of loving nods to fellow fans of the film.) i dragged my best friend to see this with me who doesn't have the same LT brain parasite that i do and she absolutely loved it.

WB just axed the entire LT library of shorts off of HBO Max, as well as gutted all of the cartoons freely available on their YouTube channel--there seems to be a clear embarrassment for the franchise on their behalf, and seeing the film proves that notion dead wrong.

supporting the film spreads the message that there is a demand for the love and craft that goes into these films. you will genuinely be experiencing history in the making--when's the last time you've seen a brand new, all traditionally animated film in the theaters from the States?

crew members themselves are urging you to spread your support and mention how it empowers them to keep making more

the money goes to Ketchup, not Zaslav--you don't have to worry about boycotting the film. the absolute opposite is necessary.

supporting this film could potentially spawn similar films with similar opportunities. Eric Bauza himself has mentioned that suport and turnout for this film could see a potential revival in Coyote vs. ACME, another film victim to WB's tax writeoffs all in the name of the dollar

EDIT: Ketchup Entertainment is in talks with WB to distribute Coyote vs ACME!!! because of the word of mouth and positivist surrounding The Day the Earth Blew Up!! keep it coming!!

it's likely that the film will be completely overshadowed by the Snow White remake, with theaters initially beginning to pull screens to make way for early previews. what could be more poetic than supporting an all traditionally hand-drawn film over a cash-grab remake of the very first feature length traditionally hand-drawn film?

How Else Can I Support The Day the Earth Blew Up

GO SEE IT! go see it again! go see it with your siblings, your friends, your family! tell your coworkers! reblog this post! spread the news! keep the conversation going!

pre-orders for the Blu-ray, releasing May 27th, are already scheduled

there's a limited edition run of 1,000 copies for the film's soundtrack on vinyl!

said soundtrack is also available on YouTube, which you should likewise listen to! get those view counts up!

Why the Heck Should I Listen to You

i'm asking myself the same thing! but, i do want to put this out there: i get it. i usually do not like being a walking advertisement. i know this is full on shill-mode and you're surely asking "you're being paid, aren't you" (i wish!). i also share the Ferocious Contrarian Gene where seeing posts like these is an instant way for me to NOT want to see the film. i genuinely understand how pushy and obnoxious this can come off. especially since, clearly, i'm a little biased to the franchise and these characters. i also balk at the guilt trippy idea of "YOU'RE A MONSTER IF YOU DON'T SUPPORT THIS FILM YOU KILLED ANIMATION". i HATE that rhetoric with a passion, and that only is going to alienate people from wanting to see this further. please know that's not the intent of my messaging here at all.

but even beyond my personal biases, i really think this is a film worth supporting. movies like this are a once-in-a-lifetime event anymore, and that could only be exacerbated by how this film's fate is handled. i've been overjoyed with the amount of messages i've received from people who said they caught the film on a whim and enjoyed it--especially from those without a clear LT bias like myself. it's proven that this film is enjoyable for anyone.

also, just, spite. the reason you haven't heard about it is by design. this film has been set up to fail. and while the success shouldn't be the sole responsibility or burden of the consumers, but instead the higher-ups, you are making a difference by supporting and spreading word of mouth of this film. crew members themselves are saying so. the distributor themselves are saying so.

i'm not expecting a miracle for this film, as much as i'd love one. i will genuinely be surprised if it makes a profit (which it should at a measly $15 million, pennies compared to most features that look much worse than this). but that's all the more reason to TRY rather than give up and say there's nothing we can do. you all have been making such a wonderful difference. that energy needs to continue, not dwindle. every single person is able to make a difference.

there are a lot worse ways you could be spending your time than spending an hour and a half at the theaters enjoying some gorgeous traditionally hand-drawn animation on the big-screen, feeling good that you're helping to spread a message and supporting the hard, loving craft of the people who worked on it. imagine if all "good turn"s in the world could be as fun and easy as seeing an animated comedy!

[steven-g-rogers]

He hummed. “I don’t know.  I guess we’ll never really know.  Certainly I think our meeting was a result of very deliberate choices.  You chose to not get married that day and join the army. I chose to keep trying to get accepted in the army.  Erskine chose the scrappy kid who wouldn’t take no for an answer.  That didn’t feel like fate.  But I do know I was attracted to you in a way I’d never been to anyone the moment I saw you.  Was that fate? Hard to say.  It definitely had a lot to do with you punching Hodge.  If you’d ended up choosing to marry Wells, and I’d randomly seen you out with him would I have felt that? I don’t know that I would have.  I suppose if it’s true there are multiple realities based on our choices there must be one where you did marry him.  But I don’t know.  We’ll never know.  I know I’m here and I love you and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He kissed her softly.  “And you’re right.  That is all that matters.”

He laughed.  “I said one day in the future when I want to recapture my youth.  Doesn’t that imply that I currently think that my youth was recent?” he teased.  “But I have to admit, sometimes I feel really old.  Waking up sixty years later and things being so different and it’s this huge learning curve to catch up to technology and culture, you do start thinking back in my day, a lot.  And then when all your friends call you an old man or dad because of how you talk,” he shrugged.  “You get in the old man mindset, I guess.  Though, to be fair, yes, I did just wake up and it was sixty years later, but that even happened fifteen years ago for me.   Maybe I’m not old yet, but I’m not the young guy I was in the war when I was riding around on my motorcycle.”  He turned and smiled at her.  “Well, if you want me to get one so we can ride around together, I won’t argue that.”

@agentpeggycarterrogers

“You said you had no other choice but to love me. But you still made it happen. You still chose to follow your heart. I know you chose to come back to me and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for using that device to be with me.”

She nodded. “You gave up so much to have this life and all I can do is love you and show you how happy I am with you. All I can do is make that choice worth it for you. I know it wasn’t an accident or fate that you came back to me. I’ll always br grateful you chose me.”

Peggy shrugged. “I don’t know if it really was fate or not. I meant in the way we love each other, the way our hearts call to each other across time and space. To me, that sounds like no ordinary love. There was no one else for me but you, and no one for you but me.” 

She scooted closer. “All that matters is this, that we have each other now, and every moment means so much.” 

A memory stirred. Yes, he had a motorcycle during the war. “I like being in the car with you too, but if you want one for fun, to ride around with me, I wouldn’t be opposed. Although I don’t really need a motorcycle as an excuse to wrap my legs around you.” Peggy grinned, aware of her innuendo, and then nudged him. “You act like you’re so old, darling. You didn’t age in the ice, you’re not old by any means.”

She smiled. “I’m going to spoil you for my entire life. I hope you know that.”

@steven-g-rogers

[leclerity]

you're mine now

Charles Leclerc x Best Friend!Reader count: 3.1k words summary: Charles invites you over for a movie night, that ends on his kitchen counter, no clothes involved. a/n: explicit smut, so strictly 18+

It isn’t supposed to be anything more than friends hanging out. You know this, and you remind yourself of it as you pat down your dress, ignoring the winter chill your bare legs give you. Maybe sundress wasn’t the best option, but it was the most chill-but-still-sexy option you had in the closet.

You rang the bell and Charles opens the door.

He looks good, to say the least – his hair has grown out a little and the curls are making their way back, alongside the ease in his shoulders that he regains during the off-season months. He pulls you in for a hug, and you suppress the shiver his cologne gives you.

Charles kisses your cheek. “Stunning, as always.”

“You’re outdoing me.”

“You’re putting a dress against sweatpants and a tee? Sure.”

“Sweatpants and a tee on you are a different story,” you argued.

He laughs and leads you through the house, even though you could’ve made your way to the living room in the dark, if you had to. The conversation takes you to the bar where he pulls out a bottle of champagne too expensive for the occasion, and tells you about the week since the last race.

You are listening—you pull yourself out of your thoughts a few times—but all you can think about is how good he looks. It’s like you haven’t seen him in years, not months. His hair’s messy and you know he was taking a nap shortly before you arrived because there’s red marks on his face, and he hasn’t shaved in a few days and great, now you’re looking at his lips—

“Do I have something on my face?”

You down the champagne in your glass. “No.”

“Want a refill?”

“Yes. Please.”

He takes the bottle and begins pouring, and your eyes are glued to his biceps, and the way they’re stretching the shirt—

“There you go.”

“Are you going to judge me if I finish that one, too?”

Charles laughs. Your legs go jelly.

“Only if you let me catch up, first.”

Three glasses of champagne down—each—later, you’re sitting on the couch. It’s a little bit cold and you complain, and the heating’s turned up within moments. He returns to the couch and looks at you; you catch him adjusting his sweatpants as he retakes his seat.

“Your sofa’s not small, you know.”

“What’s the point of sitting further away?” he asks. “I need to be able to annoy you during the movie.”

“Sure. Let’s go with that.”

It’s Charles’s turn to pick a movie. He scrolls through the list, asking you if you’ve seen this one, or that one, and you respond with your mind half there, half on the champagne resting against the side of the couch. You pour yourself another glass and one for him, too.

“We’re going to need another bottle.”

Charles shrugged. “We could start doing shots.”

“Charles!”

“What?” He looks at you so innocently, so full of something, that you feel a shiver. It doesn’t help when he puts a hand on your bare calf, thumb moving just slightly. “Shots are for later, alright. Do you want more champagne or wine?”

You hesitate: champagne would be perfect, because that was absolutely delicious, but you also know how much it costs.

“Wine,” you say.

Yet when he returns with the bottle, it’s not wine he’s holding.

“Charles—”

“We can have more champagne if we want, okay? We’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating what?”

He smiles as you clink your glasses together; something in your gaze grounds you, making you aware of every millimetre where his skin is touching yours.

“Us,” he says, and drinks to it.

He slots back into the spot at your side as his fingers absentmindedly brush your calves. It’s enough to keep you distracted – the way he’s sitting, or half-lying, you can clearly see the outline of the bulge in his sweatpants. He adjusts himself a few times, when he thinks you’re not looking, but it’s all you can see.

That, and the biceps, and the hair, and the slope of his nose that would feel so damn good against your—

You clear your throat. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“Do you want an itinerary? The bathroom.”

“Don’t take too long,” he says. “The movie’s getting good.”

Ah, the movie. The one you’re definitely watching.

In the bathroom, you splash some water over your neck. Your face would’ve been better but you spent an hour doing a no-makeup makeup look and you’re not foolish enough to ruin it.

You think about it. It would be a lie to say you don’t.

You sit on the closed toilet and breathe, your hands on your thighs, itching to slip under your dress.

Behind closed eyes, you picture Charles on the couch, waiting for you. His hands are in his hair, making it messier, and you can just make out the outline of his—

Something cold touches the inside of your thigh. Your hand. You were about to—

It’s tempting. You can feel the pulsing, the need, the way your core responds to Charles’s every movement. If you took care of it here, and now, you’d be able to go through the movie without distractions. It wouldn’t even take long, considering how fired up you already are, and the image of your best friend so clear in your mind.

The outline gave you enough of an idea of what you’d expect. Of how it would feel in your mouth, between your legs, and maybe you could slip a finger in and think of it some more and—

“Y/N, you alright?”

Your hand flies to your mouth, masking the gasp. The other hand comes out from under your dress, the tip of your finger slick with your wetness.

“I’ll be out in a minute!”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, just… Just give me a minute.”

“I’m here if you need anything.”

The words made you leave out a long, controlled breath, willing your heart to stop racing. You promise you’d be out in a few seconds and when you hear his footsteps getting quieter, you wash your hands.

In the reflection, the woman looks as if she’s judging you.

“Shut up,” you tell her. “I know it’s bad.”

More water ends up on your neck and you dap it off with a bit of toilet paper. If Charles didn’t knock when he did, you probably would’ve gone more than just put a single finger in, and the thought of doing that while he sat across the wall is…

Exciting.

The whole place feels warmer as you make your way back to the living room. There’s a falter in your step – he’s sitting exactly the way you were picturing him. Even with the bulge still visible, if not as big as you supposed he could get.

If he knew what you were doing in his bathroom…

You slot back into your place, but make it so that no parts of your bodies are touching. If Charles notices, he doesn’t say anything.

He laughs along to the movie, and he’s enjoying it, for the most part, but it’s taking you every bit of self-control to keep your hands to yourself, when he’s so close. It’s not like you haven’t thought about this before—hell, you two even kissed on a dare when you were twelve—but this is different.

His attention is back on you as the movie ends. “You feeling alright?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I don’t know. You’re a bit quiet.”

“I was watching the movie.”

“Sure,” he says, though it’s clear he doesn’t believe you.

He’s close – so close you feel his breath on your lips. Your gaze flickers to his before you can help it and when you look up, your cheeks burning, he’s smiling.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.”

His hand’s on your calf—has it always been there?—and you swallow the lump in your throat. You hear the noise from the TV, the high-pitch of the fridge, and your own heart trying to beat its way out of its cage.

“We should, um.” You clear your throat. “Drinks?”

Charles follows you to the island counter, placing the glasses on it. You pour the champagne this time and your hand’s shaky enough you wonder if he’ll comment on it, but he doesn’t.

You look at his hands—his fingers—and remember that less than an hour ago, you were taking care of yourself in his bathroom thinking of these.

“Truth or dare,” you blurt out.

Charles laughs. “What are we, twelve?”

“Truth or dare. No backing out.”

“Fine,” he says. “Truth.”

“Boo. Pussy.” You swirl the champagne around your glass, thinking. “When’s the last time you had good sex?”

“Three weeks ago,” he answers.

“Good,” you repeat. Three weeks ago, he was texting you about a girl he hooked up with, who could barely hold a dick in her mouth without gagging. “Answer honestly.”

He leaned against the counter, blowing air out of his mouth. “I don’t know. It’s been a while. A few months, maybe? What about you?”

You smile. “The question was for you.”

“Fine. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“That’s not fair! You knew what I was about to ask.” When all you do is shrug, he shakes his head, but he’s smiling. His cheeks are a soft tint of red, and you wonder if they’d feel warm against your touch. “I can’t think of any good dares.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Seriously!”

“You’re boring,” you say. “I can think of one.”

“For yourself?”

You hum in response. “It’s getting hot in here.”

Charles was quiet for a few moments – you left the ball in his court, and it was up to him to accept it. If you weren’t already tipsy, you could’ve sworn his cheeks had gone redder.

On the counter, your hands were touched just the slightest bit, but the sensation ran down your spine.

“Okay,” he says, stepping the tiniest bit closer. “I dare you to take off your dress.”

Aware of your eyes on your body, you grab the hem of your sundress. It’s not often you can see him take you in piece by piece, cheeks reddening, eyes hazing over as if unsavoury thoughts are running across his mind. You slow down, stick your hip out a little, trailing your hands on your thigh higher, higher, higher—

You watch his Adam’s apple bobble as he swallows at the sight of your lacy underwear.

“Y/N—” he tries, but his voice gives out, deep and husky and so, so needy.

You tug the rest of the dress over, throwing it on the floor between you. His eyes are on your chest, with his tongue brushing over his lips. Even without needing to check, you know there’ll be an outline on his trousers – not once has a man looked at you like this without wanting to jump your bones.

You smile. Innocently. “Your turn.”

Charles hesitates, but only for a moment. His eyes dart to your face and whatever he finds there must agree with him, because he grabs the bottom of his shirt and tugs it over in one movement, dropping it on top of your dress.

Your heart beats in two places, looking at him like this. The light is dim and you could trace the abs on his stomach, the firmness of his pecks, even the shoulders, memorising it to make a statue of him in his mind.

The thought of him, bare, makes your mouth go dry.

“Sweatpants too,” you say.

He quirks an eyebrow.

“I’m in my underwear.”

“We’re both wearing two pieces of clothing.”

There’s the moment—the opening you’ve been waiting for—and you look at him in the eye, searching, until you see the way his lips are parted, the speed of his chest rising, the outline of his dick screaming to be let out, and you make your decision.

“Why,” you say, “when we could be wearing none?”

Charles’s eyes darken in a way you haven’t seen before. Gone was the gentleman, the strong man with a kind heart, and you think of him looking at you like this with his hands on your throat, pounding into you, and your knees buckle.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“We’ve been dancing around this long enough.” You hook your thumbs in the waistband of your panties. “I can do it, or you can.”

He crosses the distance between you in a moment, his body crashing against yours as he snatches you by the wrists, pulling them around his back. His mouth is against your neck and his breath sends shivers down your spine as he murmurs, “It would be my pleasure.”

He kisses you, then. His lips are soft against your skin they trail towards your collarbone, between your breasts. His hands are on your waist, now, just above the waistband, but travel behind your back as his mouth finds your nipple over the fabric of your bralette, pulling it in, the mixture of sensations making your body relax into his arms. Your hands are in his hair, now, tugging at it the way you’ve pictured yourself doing a million times, and he’s moaning against your breast, and you feel unravelled and you haven’t even done anything yet.

Charles pushes you against the counter and he pulls you up by the waist, and your legs wrap around him as if they were created for this. One hand on your chest tries to push you down but you shake your head, pulling one finger into your mouth, twirling your tongue around it as if it were a lolly.

“No,” you whisper. “I want to watch.”

“Fussy,” he says, dropping to his knees with a smile.

Your hands go back to his hair as he spreads your thighs with his hands, kissing the skin behind your knee, travelling inwards with soft kisses.

“Charles,” you moan. “I need—”

You gasp as his teeth sink into your thigh, followed by a kiss. “We’re doing this my way, princess.”

You’d protest—you’ve thought about this moment too often for it to go wrong—but his hand found your centre over your panties with soft, but confident strokes, with his mouth peppering kisses closer, and closer, and closer—

He kisses you over the fabric. He teases you, tongue flicking at your clit, and you tug his hair to tell him to hurry the fuck up and he parts your legs wider, pulling your panties to the side with his teeth and holding them there with his thumb. You feel his hot breath against your core, bare and exposed like this.

He looks up at you and you feel yourself melting into the sight. Those big green eyes, darkened with desire, his mouth an inch aware of your most private part…

You breathe out his name as if it were a prayer.

He smiles, satisfied, and burrows himself between your legs.

If heaven is real, you sure have died and gone to it, because your best friend is a master of the art of pleasure. He holds you steady against the counter as his tongue does the work even with your writhing and pleading for more, more, more, until he pushes a finger inside you, pumping and curling and it could be a minute or it could be an hour and your thighs are clenching his face and shaking, warms rushing through your body, and you breathe out his name again and again and again as he kisses you through your high, only pulling himself up from between your legs when your breathing steadied.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” he says, smirking.

You shake your head, with what little energy you had left, but the sight of him like this—the bulge still trying to escape his sweatpants—has you yanking his clothes down until his cock springs free, every bit the thing you’d hoped for and more.

You kiss the head, lightly, teasing, hearing Charles’s moan. His hand moves to the back of your head and you take him into your mouth, bobbing your head on it. He even tastes good.

He moans, again, grabbing a fistful of your hair, urging you to go faster, sloppier, and you do. You let him into the back of your throat, not gagging, and he starts moving into you, shivering as his eyes meet yours.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He lets out a moan, loud, and pulls out. “Get back on the counter.”

You do as told and then he’s between your legs, lining himself up at your entrance. Both of you are too needy, too excited, too drunk to worry about a condom, and he pushes himself in, but you’ve been waiting for this the whole night, and he slides in with little to no resistance.

He moans, again, in the crook of your neck. You arch your back into him and he starts pumping, head buried against you and hands planted on the counter behind you. Your nails dig lines into his back and he bites and sucks on the skin below your chin as he fills you up to the brim, over and over and over again.

“Charles,” you say against his ear, half-whisper, half-moan.

You feel him shiver.

“Yes?”

“I want you,” you whisper. “All of you.”

He looks at you and you give him a nod, and then he’s pumping into you faster, harder. You take his hand and drag it to your neck while lowering your back against the counter, biting onto your hand to suppress a moan as the new angle hits even deeper. Charles’s hand curls around your neck, just like you were imagining not too long ago, and his eyes bore into yours as you whisper his name, feeling yourself close, again.

It’s a few more pumps and a light squeeze on your neck and then your legs are shaking around him again and he moans, loud, guttural, as you feel the warmth of him spread inside you.

Charles does one last thrust and melts against your body, replacing your neck with more kisses, lazy this time, weary. Your hands are in his hair and you pull him up, your lips less than an inch away.

He kisses you. It’s tired, too, and sloppy, but you feel him twitch still inside of you, and his tongue explores your mouth. You can still taste yourself on it, and you remember how it felt, to have him buried between your legs, and you think, how could anyone give this up?

You couldn’t. You won’t.

“Charles,” you breathe out.

“Mhm?”

“You’re mine now.”

[i-messed-up-big-time]

Lonely Birthday - Caleb

Caleb x Non Mc/Reader

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

a/n: ok this is my longest fic yet (can you tell he's my fav), chat i think i cooked with this one. this will be the last part in my lonely birthday series, i really hope you guys enjoyed it!!

Tags: angst, happy ending, female pronouns, reader is not MC, female pronouns, cursing, reader is childhood friends w/ caleb and MC, MC is a bit of a spoiled brat here (pls dkm), this is set in a timeline where there are no evols and caleb does not die in an explosion, this one acc has a backstory in comparison to the other parts I wrote, just cause jumping right into it with caleb just didnt feel right without a proper backstory, use of pet names (sadly he's not calling you pip-squeak in this one but he does call you baby), mentions of self harm (nothing happens its just a thought that passes), lmk if i missed smth

word count: 5.3k

masterlist

Xavier Rafayel Zayne Sylus

taglist: @rcvcgers

You were always overshadowed by her, from childhood to adulthood.

To make matters worse, your birthdays were only a couple of days apart, yours coming before hers, because they were so close together your birthdays were always celebrated with her on her birthday.

It was like killing two birds with one stone. Every time you complained about wanting to celebrate your birthday on your actual date you were told it would be unfair for MC.

Your own family favoured her more than you, sometimes you wondered whether they even considered you their daughter at all.

But then there was Caleb. Him and MC were inseparable when you first met her, always there whenever you two hung out. Eventually, you got close to him as well and began to hang outside of your meet ups with MC.

He always made you feel like you were your own person, not a shadow of someone else.

Maybe that's why you fell for him.

Over the course of your childhood leading into your teenage years you were head over heels for him. Anyone could see it was obvious, and to certain people it bothered them, and you never noticed it until it was too late.

●・○・●・○・●・

Despite being the same age as MC, there was one thing you had that she didn't. You were far smarter than those your age, that gave you the ability to skip ahead a couple of grades so that you were at a level that was more to your capabilities.

But your brain could only get you so far in certain circumstances.

You were in the same class as Caleb, so naturally you ended up being closer to him than you were before. It also made admiring him much more easier.

But nothing was ever easy for you. All throughout your school years MC would always barge in on your study time with Caleb, always needing help with her assignments.

Normally, it wouldn't be a problem if it was a one off thing, but anytime you were over at their place to study with Caleb, it became a tutoring session for MC. It was even more annoying when she would constantly brush off your help, only wanting Caleb to help her.

"I don't understand it when you explain it. You're always using difficult words."

MC whined whenever you would offer to help, and each time Caleb would laugh and ruffle her hair.

"It's okay pip-squeak, I'll explain it in simpler terms."

Whenever he would say that, you could feel a pang in your chest.

It was during that time you and MC started to drift apart. You never really understood until that day.

●・○・●・○・●・

The day before graduation you finally chalked up the courage to confess to Caleb, and to your surprise he had accepted.

You had anticipated a rejection, knowing that he was busy with prepping to go to Skyhaven to attend the DAA, and unfortunately a lot of his free time was spent with MC.

He had always been protective of her, he also extended that to you as well. Although the way he treated you was different than the way he treated her.

The fleeting glances, the lingering touches, the nights he would spend with you when things were bad. How could you not fall for a man who cared for you like that.

You thought it was just your delusions that there was something between the two of you, but him accepting your confession made those delusions become reality.

●・○・●・○・●・

Everyone found you guys to be an unexpected couple, they always expected Caleb to be with MC with how good their chemistry was, but he viewed her simply as his little sister. One that he was a little too protective of but you never found that to be a sense of insecurity.

Or so you thought.

You and Caleb had been dating for almost 4 years now. It was a bit rough with both of you pursuing your academics and not having much time to spend together, but you guys always made it work.

Sometimes Caleb would bail on your dates because something came up with his studies, and you believed him. Who knew it was because someone felt a little jealous of you guys spending time together.

You had never realized that the dates Caleb bailed were because someone back in Linkon wanted attention, and who better to ask than Caleb!

You and MC and drifted apart, and after your graduation you barely ever saw her unless you were home for the holidays with Caleb. You chose to be the bigger person whenever she tried to monopolize Caleb's time, knowing he saw you more often than her, you let it slide.

Although, deep down it bothered you that she would always try to be the sole focus of his attention or when you guys went out on a date she just so happened to be there too, turning it into a group hangout where you felt like the third wheel.

Crazy right? Being a third wheel in your own relationship, guess you could cross that off on your bingo card.

It was your birthday tomorrow, you and Caleb had planned a nice day in with him cooking your favourites and then baking a cake together. Both of your schedules had finally managed to align and you guys had a week off, so you planned on crashing at his place for some much needed quality time.

With it being your final year, you guys were buried in back to back assignments and exams, the stress was high. Having the week off let you guys finally have a moment to breathe.

You packed your bags for the week before making your way over to Caleb's place, it wasn't too far of a drive. You made a quick stop at the grocery store, grabbing your favourite snacks and some groceries so you can make him some food while you're at his place.

By the time you got to Caleb's place the sun was just starting to set. You walked into his place, unlocking it with the spare keys he gave you.

It was quiet in his home.

"Hmm seems like Caleb isn't back from his classes yet."

You thought out loud. Putting away your stuff in his room you made your way to the kitchen, wanting to cook Caleb some dinner.

Like magic, as soon as you were done adding the finishing touches to dinner, Caleb walked in.

"Hi baby, it smells good in here."

Caleb greeted you, coming closer to place a kiss on your lips.

You quickly sent him away to go wash up while you set the table. Dinner was nice and peaceful, it was moments like these that made you feel happy. No distractions, just you and Caleb.

You guys spent most of dinner just catching up about all the stuff that happened while you guys were apart. Caleb insisted on cleaning up since you had cooked dinner, so you were sitting on the counter next to the sink as he washed the dishes.

You chatted away mindlessly, he listened with a smile on his face, throwing in a response here and there.

Once he was done, you were about to jump off the counter when Caleb slotted himself between your legs, hands coming to rest on your hips.

You immediately went quiet, the mood shifting to something more intimate. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours, nuzzling your nose with his.

You guys stayed in that position for a little bit, enjoying the moment. The rest of the evening was spent with you guys just lounging around and catching up.

As you were getting ready for bed you could feel your stomach drop with anxiety for no reason, you brushed it off as just your nerves about sharing the same bed with Caleb after a while.

You shouldn't have brushed it off.

You got changed into one of his t-shirts and got into bed, Caleb slid in not too long after, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you in closer to his chest.

“Goodnight.”

He said as he placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“Goodnight.”

You replied back, snuggling closer into his chest.

●・○・●・○・●・

It was around 4 am when you woke up to feeling an empty bed next to you.

It’s still warm, Caleb must have just gotten up.

You got out of bed to go look for him. The moment you stepped out the your room you spotted him in the living room dressed to go outside.

The alarm bells in your head were going off.

“Hey, where are you going this late at night?”

It was just a simple question, one that didn’t warrant the reaction you were about to receive.

“Out.”

Caleb replied in an oddly cold tone.

What’s with that tone?

“Okay, but that’s not what I asked. Where are you going?”

You asked again, something in your gut was telling you that you were not going to like the answer.

Caleb sighed out in frustration before replying.

“MC called and needed me, so I’m going to Linkon right now. You know how she gets.”

Normally you wouldn’t say anything, but this was supposed to be your time with Caleb, no distractions.

“Why do you always go at the drop of a hat whenever she calls? You’re supposed to be spending time with me, not running to her whenever something doesn’t go her way.”

Years of frustration were finally bubbling to the surface, you didn’t want it to come out but you had to set your boundaries.

“It’s not fair to me as your girlfriend if you keep putting her above me.”

Your voiced raised a bit as you spoke, you didn’t mean for it to but having to constantly deal with MC barging in on your time with Caleb, whether she knew he was with you or not, was beyond irritating.

“I’m not putting her above you, she just requires a bit more care and attention than you do.”

That did it, if you weren’t mad before you definitely were now.

“Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s exactly as I said it. MC always feels insecure, even more so when you skipped grades and left her alone. I can’t just ignore her when she calls me asking for help.”

Every explanation that came out of his mouth had you seeing red, you weren’t gonna back down either.

“Don’t you dare try to pin this on me? Just because we were friends didn’t mean that I had to be stuck to her hip 24/7. I skipped those grades cause it benefited me for my future, and if she really was my friend she would’ve been happy for me instead of sulking around like a child.”

That lit a fuse in Caleb, if there was one thing he didn’t tolerate it was anyone saying something about MC, even if it was you.

“You better watch what you say, I won’t tolerate it even it it’s you.”

His tone had you taking a step back, it was a whole different level of cold. You should’ve taken that as your sign to back off and come back to this when you guys were less heated, but who were you if not stubborn.

“Omg how could I ever insult your precious MC. You need to let go of that overprotectiveness you have when it comes to her, it puts me in a tough spot when you go running to her like a dog when its owner calls.”

You probably took it too far with that but you were past the point of no return.

“You’re so infuriating! What do you not understand that MC needs me right now, every moment I spend here on this useless conversation is more time she’s alone.”

He spat back.

I’m infuriating?

That hit a nerve, but you couldn’t let him see that, not until you got all your feelings out.

“I’m infuriating?! What about MC? Every time we get some time together she always fucking ruins it! Can’t I just have all of your attention and time without her trying to barge in? It’s like she’s trying to make it so we don’t spend any time together!”

“God you’re so fucking clingy! I knew I should have listened to MC when she warned me not to date you!”

He yelled that at you, and for the first time since the conversation started you were speechless.

“What?”

Your voice was low and filled with hurt. You couldn’t believe your ears that he would say something like that.

“You heard me. I should have never dated you. I ignored MC when she warned me, I gave you the benefit of the doubt but I should’ve fucking known. MC would have been a better girlfriend than you.”

You could hear your heart breaking, you don’t know if you’d ever recover from this.

Caleb took your silence as an opportunity to walk around you to the door, slamming it behind him.

You felt your knees give out, the tears were streaming down your face in silent pain. You didn’t know he thought of you that way, you didn’t want to think that way but a part of you felt like MC was talking bad about you behind your back. It makes no sense he would say all of that on his own.

Will I always be in her shadow? Is that all I’m worth?

You thought to yourself.

●・○・●・○・●・

God knows how long you were in that position for, no sign of Caleb coming back or any calls or texts. You picked yourself up off the floor and gathered all your things, you’d be damned if you spent another minute in this house where you clearly had no worth.

Throwing on a pair of sweatpants, you made sure to clear everything you had at Caleb’s place, not leaving a single thing behind.

You put everything in your car and drove yourself home. It was 6 in the morning so the roads were starting to get busy but it was quiet enough for you to be lost in thought, a dangerous action while driving. You were so lost in thought you didn’t notice that you were approaching a red light until it was too late.

A car had crashed into your drivers side, and everything went black.

●・○・●・○・●・

*In Linkon*

Caleb had made it outside of MC’s dorm, the argument he had with you weighing heavy on his mind but his first priority was MC.

Who knew that argument would cost him everything.

It didn’t take long before MC threw open the door and jumped into his arms. He returned the hug by patting her on the head before heading inside.

“What happened? Why did you call?”

He asked, although his mind wasn’t entirely present in the moment, it kept drifting back to you.

“Oh no reason, I was just thinking about you and decided to call you. You know it’s my birthday in a couple of days so I wanted you to spend some time with me this weekend.”

For the first time ever, Caleb felt a spark of annoyance at MC’s reasoning. She had called him earlier in tears and said he needed to come quick, he even fought with you before coming here.

Pushing that feeling aside he simply smiled.

“You know I can’t do that pip squeak, I already promised Y/N I would spend my week off with her. We had a bit of an argument before I came here, so I have to go back in a bit to make sure she’s fine.”

He said.

She’ll probably be calmed down by the time I come back.

He thought to himself, boy was he wrong.

MC pouted, not liking how things weren’t playing in her favour, but she planned on trying to come up with another excuse later to get him to stay longer.

●・○・●・○・●・

A couple of hours had passed when he got that heart stopping call.

“Hello is this Caleb Xia? This is Skyhaven Hospital calling about Miss Y/N.”

The nurse spoke in a hurried tone, tt was like someone had knocked the wind out of him.

“Speaking, what happened.”

His anxiety went through the roof, what happened after he left? Did you hurt yourself? But he never say any signs of depression, was he actually putting MC above you so much that he was ignoring your feelings?

His mind was running a mil a minute with each thought progressively getting worse, the guilt from what he said to you when you guys fought was finally kicking in.

“She was involved in a car accident and needs surgery, we require a signature from her guardian to proceed. Are you able to come in right now? It’s urgent.”

“Can I give you my consent over the phone? I’m currently in Linkon and it would take me some time to get back, I don’t want to delay the procedure.”

Although Caleb sounded composed, on the inside he was breaking.

“The surgeon said that should be fine, please do make sure to be here as soon as possible as you need to fill out some forms. We’ll get started on the surgery. Thank you.”

The nurse promptly hung up, leaving Caleb to his thoughts.

Without wasting a moment he got up and made his way to the door. MC had been trying to listen to what was being said on the phone, unable to decipher what was happening based on Caleb’s words alone. Seeing Caleb getting ready to leave she jumped up, trying to stop him.

“Where are you going? You can’t just leave, you basically just got here!”

She grabbed ahold of his arm, trying to physically stop him but it was of no use, he pulled his arm out of her grasp and tried to leave again before she spoke up.

“What excuse did she come up with this time? She does this all the time whenever you and I spend time together.”

Something in him had just snapped, it was like a fog had been lifted. Never in his life did he think he would be here getting upset at MC, but life has a funny way of proving you wrong.

“What are you even talking about, when has she ever done that?”

MC was taken aback, Caleb never questioned her whenever she said anything like this before, he would just spend some time comforting her.

“I don’t have time for this, I’m leaving. I’ll talk to you about this later.”

He said in a curt tone, leaving no room for discussion.

●・○・●・○・●・

Caleb had booked it to Skyhaven, not wanting to waste a single moment.

By the time he made it, the surgery was still ongoing. Grabbing the nearest nurse he asked for an update, unfortunately they didn’t have much of an update to give him aside from the fact that your condition was really bad when you were brought in. You had ran a red light and were hit on the drivers side by oncoming traffic, the other driver made it out with minor injuries and a concussion.

Unfortunately, you weren’t so lucky. You had been brought in with internal bleeding, a broken arm and head trauma. Your recovery period was going to be lengthy, which in turn would also hinder your ability to graduate this year like you had planned, but that was a problem for next time.

Caleb slumped onto on the chairs outside the OR, the time passed by excruciatingly slow.

●・○・●・○・●・

A couple of hours later the operation was finally completed.

Seeing you in that condition physically hurt him, his chest feeling constricted.

“We were able to stop the bleeding but she’s still unconscious, because the head trauma was severe it’ll take some time before she will wake up.”

Caleb nodded, listening to the doctor’s words intently. He followed the nurses to the room where you were going to be recovering, taking a seat next to the bed he held your hand in his.

“I’m sorry, please. Please just wake up soon.”

Sadly you wouldn’t wake up for another two months.

Everyday Caleb would come to take care of you, making sure to change the flowers before they began to wilt, taking responsibility to wash you and take care of your hair, hell he would even do your skincare at night so you’d wake up in perfect condition.

Although he knew deep down inside that nothing he could do could ever make up for the things he said and how he made you feel. Caleb and MC had also grown apart during this time, constantly wishing that he had never went to see her that night, if he didn’t then maybe you’d be awake and smiling next to him instead of lying still on that bed in this lifeless hospital room.

Caleb came in with a fresh bouquet of your favourite flowers, silently he replaced the old ones, making sure to get some fresh water before putting in the new bouquet. Once that was done he made his way to his usual spot, right next to your bed.

Earlier the doctor said you were recovering well, although it would take some time and rehab for you to use your arm again. You’d also be weak from the extended period of time that was spent in bed, but Caleb was nothing if not determined to make sure he was there for you every step of the way.

“Hey baby, it’s me Caleb. You’re probably tired of hearing my voice everyday huh? The doctor says you’re recovering well, you’ll just need some rehab to help you get back into the groove of things when you wake up.”

Caleb kept getting choked up the more he spoke, he just wanted you to wake up, even if you don’t want him anymore, he’d be fine with that.

“I miss you, your voice, your sweet smile, everything. If I could trade spots with you I would. So please, please just wake up. I’m sorry for everything, I’m such a shitty boyfriend aren’t I? I can’t believe I said all of that, on your birthday no less.”

At this point the tears he tried so hard to hold back started streaming down his face. It was hard to keep up that strong front, but he tried because he felt that he didn’t deserve to be sad, not when he’s to blame for you being in this state.

He grabbed a hold of your hand, bringing it to his face hoping to feel something. Anything.

He nuzzled his face in to your hand as he silently cried. It wasn’t long before he was passed out in that chair, still holding your hand to his face.

He felt it in the middle of the night, always the light sleeper he was awake at the slightest of movements. He knew he wasn’t mistaken, he felt your hand twitch for this first time in two months.

He was now wide awake and sitting upright in his seat, watching you closely. That’s when he say it, your hand twitched in his hold, a slight groan escaping your lips, but your eyes had still yet to open.

Caleb had already pressed the call button, the nurses and doctor filling the room in a matter of minutes, that’s when you had finally opened your eyes.

●・○・●・○・●・

A series of tests had been conducted and the doctor had caught you up to speed with everything before you were left alone with Caleb. You avoided looking at him the entire time, it stung, but he couldn’t complain.

You cleared your throat uncomfortably, the dryness getting to you, but before you could even get the water, Caleb had already poured a glass and was holding it out to you.

You silently took it from him and drank it slowly, not wanting to shock your system. It was a struggle, your grip on the glass was weak. It almost slipped out of your hands if not for Caleb holding the bottom of the cup.

Once you were done, Caleb put the glass on the side, reaching out to grab your hands. You pulled them back before he could touch you.

“Why are you here Caleb? Doesn’t MC need you?”

Were you being petty? Yes, the fight that you guys had may have been two months ago for him, but for you it was like it was yesterday. The wounds from his words were still fresh.

You missed the look of hurt that flashed across his face, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

"You don't get to come in here and think that everything will be fine. I just wanted one week with you, no distractions. All I got in return? You leaving me alone on the morning of my birthday after telling me you should've listened to MC when she told you not to date me?!"

You had tears in your eyes, but you refused to let them escape. You didn't want to let him see just how broken you were about this.

Caleb had nothing to say, how could he? He was the one who put you in this position, he's the reason you ended up in the hospital.

"Please just leave."

Your voice sounded so broken, all he could do was listen to your request even though every cell in his being told him to stay by your side. He chose to just wait outside your room, not wanting to be too far away from you but still wanting to respect your request.

As soon as soon Caleb left the room you let the tears you were holding back fall, your body shook with sobs as everything came crashing down on you.

Even with the morphine you could feel the lingering bits of pain all throughout your body.

You eventually ended up crying yourself to sleep. The silence had Caleb worried, so he had decided to check in on you, seeing that you were asleep he was able to calm himself down a little.

But the sight of your tear stricken face had him clutching his chest in pain, all he wanted to do was take away your pain.

For now, he was just going to try his best to be by your side, no matter how much you pushed him away. He was determined to make things right.

●・○・●・○・●・

A couple of weeks had passed before you were finally released from the hospital.

During that time Caleb was as stubborn as ever, never leaving your side unless it was for classes, he spent the nights next to your bed, watching over you. He was always one step ahead, if you were thinking about food or water, the next second he would have it in front of you.

You didn't want to admit it, you enjoyed having him wait on you hand and foot. But you still weren't ready to forgive him, not yet. You still needed to talk to him about what happened before you could decide where this relationship was headed.

You wanted to give him another chance, seeing how tirelessly he's been taking care of you these past few weeks. You could only assume he was doing the same those two months where you were unconscious.

In the meantime, you decided his punishment would be your silence, not speaking to him unless it was absolutely necessary. Even then you only spoke a few words.

Caleb was currently in class, it was a Friday so that meant he'd home earlier than the other days.

You didn't have much of a choice as to where you'd be staying, Caleb wanted to make sure you were taking all your medication as well as doing the exercises you were assigned for your rehab, he knew how forgetful you could be, and you were in no condition to be staying on your own. So his solution was to have you stay at his place.

Being there brought back bad memories, but you had made up your mind to talk to him about it. If you were going to be staying here you needed to know where you guys stood in each others lives.

You were currently in his room, wanting to take a nap but your mind was too active for you to relax.

It wasn't long before Caleb came home, not seeing you in the living room he immediately made his way towards his room.

The moment he walked in he relaxed, seeing that you were alright. You saw him and thought,

It's now or never.

"We need to talk."

Caleb's heart dropped, his mind went crazy thinking you were about to break up with him. Although he couldn't blame you for wanting to, but he refused to let you go, you were the only good thing he had in his life, he couldn't afford to lose you. Not before he had a chance to make things right.

"Okay."

He said as calmly as possible, not wanting to give away the immense anxiety he was feeling from this situation.

He walked towards you, kneeling on the ground next to you.

"I'm giving you one chance to explain yourself for that night."

That was all he needed to go on tangent about that night, from the call from MC where she was crying to going to her house and finding out she had been lying to him to get him to spend more time with her instead of you to him and MC having a falling out because of the things she said about you.

He laid it all out, he wasn't proud of the fact that he was so easily fooled by her. He had known her far longer than he had known you, and thought she would never lie to him, boy was he wrong.

"I admit that I have absolutely no excuse for letting myself believe her words. I can't forgive myself for the things I said that night and how I just left you there. It was all my fault."

He took your hands in his, you would've pulled them out of his reach but this time you let him hold them. You could see in his actions and in his eyes how much he regretted that night and how he had been trying everyday to make things right.

"I blame myself for your accident, if I had just stayed with you, if i had never said those words you wouldn't have ended up in this condition."

You had never really seen Caleb cry, so seeing him now in tears as his brain recounted the feeling of seeing you on that hospital bed, had your mind coming to a conclusion.

You were going to give him another chance, his one and only chance. If anything like that happens again you won't stick around, you had enough self respect to not tolerate that.

You removed yours hands from his, Caleb had a look of hurt when you did that, but it didn't last long before you cupped his face, wiping away his tears.

"You get one chance only. Mess up and you'll never see or hear from me again, got it?"

He nodded his head like a child before pulling you to the floor and onto his lap.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck as silent sobs raked his body. You ran a soothing hand through his hair to help him calm down.

It hurt to see him like this, but he also deserved it. Even if it was a fraction of the pain you went through.

"I promise I'll make it up to you. Anything you want, I'll do it."

His voice came out muffled, but you could feel the sincerity in it.

"I'll hold you to that."

[arouravis]

☀︎ 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙴𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙶𝙸𝚅𝙴 𝙼𝙰𝙸𝙽 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙴𝙽𝙴𝚁𝙶𝚈

✿ 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝, 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚍𝚊𝚢!

𝙻𝙴𝙾 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙴𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃𝚂:

Leo placements have a natural abundance to gain attention from the social masses. They truly cannot help that. With their warm, exuberant personality. They’re able to blend within any crowd effortlessly with little to no effort.

I’ve personally seen this placement have a hard time being friends with the opposite sex (usually within heterosexual relationships). Or, they have a hard time being friends with people who have insecure partners.

For some reason, the partner becomes automatically intimidated by the Leo rising. Even if the Leo rising did nothing but exist. I’ve seen it happen, crazy work indeed.

𝚂𝙰𝙶𝙸𝚃𝙰𝚁𝙸𝚄𝚂 𝚁𝙸𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶:

Gods children! They have a natural luck to them, even with other-more “unattractive” placements. Sagittarius risings are one of the strongest soldiers of the zodiac and they deserve all the luck!

Usually, these people have an idea of what they want. They know they’ll get it, they just don’t know how. Usually, it’ll take a while to get what they desire, but before they know it they’ll be blessed with whatever they asked for— down to the little details.

These people usually attract a gravitational pull towards them and people who need spiritual/intellectual change will come into their lives (vice versa).

They bring a natural light to those around them when their presence is gone. You’ll feel it!

𝙻𝙸𝙱𝚁𝙰 + 𝙿𝙸𝚂𝙲𝙴𝚂 𝚁𝙸𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶 + 𝚅𝙴𝙽𝚄𝚂:

Naturally beautiful, ethereal, otherworldly. The type of people who can easily gain/attract secrets admirers without even knowing. They don’t have to be loud or boisterous to gain any attention. As soon as they are in a group setting, the attention is gonna happen whether you like it or not.

I notice that within men and women, these placements give them wonderful warm smiles. How could you not like them?

𝚂𝚄𝙽 𝙸𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝟷𝟶𝚝𝚑 𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚂𝙴:

THE go getters, so hardworking, naturally a beast in whatever they do and will gain recognition/envy for it. Ex: Beyoncé

These people work hard day and night to make sure that their craft is absolute perfection. Sometimes they don’t even have to try, their vision is only theirs. And they know it’s good, usually due to this. There will be suspected enemies.

They wonder how come these people are able to get away with whatever in the work force… even if it’s the bare minimum! Because at the end of the day, they know they’re good at what they do and they have the receipts to back it up.

𝚅𝙴𝙽𝚄𝚂 + 𝙼𝙰𝚁𝚂 𝙸𝙽 𝙻𝙴𝙾 𝙳𝙴𝙶𝚁𝙴𝙴𝚂 𝟻* 𝟷𝟽* 𝟸𝟿* :

We’re born on this planet to be admired. Simple.

𝙿𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙴𝙼𝙽𝚃𝚂 𝙸𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝟸𝟸𝚗𝚍 + 𝟸𝟿𝚝𝚑 𝙳𝙴𝙶𝚁𝙴𝙴:

29: These people hold an intense transformational energy that cannot be ignored. The amount of power these people are able to hold is astonishing!

22: If you'd like to know more about the 22nd degree, I'd suggest going here for better confirmation.

These people are restless and have a yearning to achieve and be something. They have a designated purpose on this earth to show themselves and let their presence be known.

𝙲𝙷𝙸𝚁𝙾𝙽 𝙸𝙽 𝟷𝚜𝚝 + 𝟷𝟷𝚝𝚑 𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚂𝙴:

This gives the main character in very sad and depressing way lol. From someone with Chiron in the first. In the beginning years of my childhood, I felt as if I was watching my own life from a different point of view. Like something as if it was out of body, the feeling of not being good enough and sulking within your own solitude kinda makes these people feel like that one scene in Twilight where Bella lays in bed as the seasons go by.

For Chiron in the 11th house, these people will ALWAYS be going through some type of friendship drama. It's like being a main character in the worst way, it's like an episode of Degrassi every single day.

✿ 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚜

[verdancy-hime]

It's trying to kill her.

She's trying to kill herself instead.

Her alarm clock says "It's not a fashion statement, it's a deathwish."

The first time you met her, she was yelling at the cars in the road to get her to hit her to buy her a computer. Or was it that she was wearing all different colors of lipgloss around her neck and coming out of a tunnel full of bats and thinking "I am suddenly certain that the best years of my life are all behind me. I am going to kill myself one day." And you thought "that's a weird thing for a second grader to be thinking. Girls usually aren't that depressed until they have tits."

One of them keeps talking about how she moved on and she's healthy now.

The other has been saying over and over that she tries not to think about it because she knows they'll lock her up one day. She knows they made her wrong on purpose. She knows they have been trying to fix her but she won't fix. There's always some battle of wits and will and they all accuse her of being greedy but she always wins and always wonders why they didn't try bribery when bribery always works. She is lying on a floor at a party among a group of beautiful girls and you don't know why you are listening to her say this instead of them. This keeps happening. You will find her next to a girl with a perfect face for this moment, the girl will lick your shoulder blade. You wind up having a conversation about some book you never read and how you would like it based on this movie you mentioned. The other girl crawls into your lap. She walks over to your friend and starts asking him questions. You buy the book the next day. It sits on the shelf for three years after the girl with the face and the lips and the... other assets is gone. There are other girls in the meantime. You don't read it but you don't throw it away. One night you are in a new place and nothing is unpacked and you can't sleep and you can't even look at any more liquor after the last three weeks and here is this book. And on the first page when you open it up, you are reintroduced to yourself that year back then. And you know which girl is the girl who is telling the truth about who she is because she dies in the book. Unmistakably, she dies. And it's not even the end of the story. It's not the point of it. It's like here you are on the night you met and she dies and here you are going through all these miseries that hadn't happened yet when the book was written. And here you are on the next page of your own life.

You know it was her because she wants to. She talks about wanting everything, how to do anything. How to get away with it. How to make ugly things beautiful and evil things good and stupid things smart. but the one thing that never changes is that she stares into a cup or a light for too long, she writes a story, she tells you about things she's done-

You go to admire her for her bravery or what she's done. She can lie and say what she's supposed to say- yes, I know , I'm great. Or she says "people think I'm brave but really I just already have to live with the things they're afraid of. I'm not afraid of losing the things they have because I don't have them. And If I get stuck, I always think 'I'll just kill myself if this doesn't work."

You know it's her because she keeps getting into cars with boys because she thinks maybe one will murder her. And when she realizes they want to take her home and keep her, she stops doing that and starts asking them why they don't love their empty houses. And when she gets urged to make a wish, everyone offers her things she wants but the only wish she will take is "I wish I was dead." And the only way to talk her out of it is to say someone else will also die. And one day, you turn on your TV and it has a girl and it's not her face and it's not her name and it's not her voice speaking in her register and she dies and says everyone else will live if she does it. And one day you, even you, turn on the car radio and here's a song about her sung by someone who looks like her and sounds like her and you don't remember the story about how she read a book about a vampire hunter with a harem and said she didn't like it because the girl always is smug and mean about other women's makeup but a girl named after a legend in Arthurian myth put it in her face when she went out into the snow and walked around screaming for hours when she fell asleep next to a girl her friends tried to set her up with at a party after finding out she was too young and wrapping her in a blanket and talking to her a while. The cute hacker girl with the knee socks she bought her who begged to be turned into a girl and rescued from her parents who wanted to be a boy was giggling with another teenage girl that if you drink rum and diet coke it tastes just like skittles. Neither one of them were wearing any clothes. She went outside and screamed and screamed and screamed and after that night she couldn't sing anymore. Before that she got compliments. Sometimes. So she went inside and this girl named after a boy who went insane and died as a tree after he drank some potion and fell in love with the king's girl handed her a book so she would have something to do other than throw up from crying. Her father used to yell at her for crying so hard it made her sick. She still does it. Singing or no singing, her lungs still do that. Too big for the rest of her. She tells you the only thing she remembered was "you don't give somebody to the monsters." And the rest was just bullshit. And she tells you that she doesn't want anyone else to die when she dies.

And she tells you that she used to talk to this person. One she made up.

So you know it's worse than the time where she lost her singing voice when one day you see her saying there was this cult that she thinks tricks people into exorcising their own souls, they say it's mindfulness and they used to say it was demons they cast out. But what happens if you have too many souls? What then? She says she beat them but they killed her cat, but now her cat brings the souls back. She says now they want to kill her, but that's okay. Because no one else will die with her.

You know the other her is fake because it's immortal, but it writes songs about how it doesn't want to die. Maybe she might develop jealousy or pettiness or insecurity or rage or grief or anything else. She would never give up her death.

But you turn on the television, you go to read a book

And all the monsters aren't monsters, they're just people she used to know.

"What's that even supposed to mean, 'It's not her'? If it looks like her, talks like her, acts like her, thinks like her, thinks it IS her, who's to say that it is NOT her?"

[gdinthehouseee]

Closed Door - Part 2: CHOI SEUNG-HYUN x READER

summary: seung-hyun proves he is more than enough for ji-yong's younger sister.

word count: 5205

tags: angst to fluff; angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, nightlife, alcohol, implied assault attempt (IF THIS IS TOO MUCH FOR YOU PLEASE DO NOT READ!!)

ao3 link -- part 1

It’s been two weeks. Two weeks of silence. Not just from Seung-hyun, but from all of them. Youngbae. Daesung. Even Ji-yong, in his own way, and it tells you everything you need to know.

Ji-yong got to them. Got to him. Like he always does. You should’ve seen it coming. It’s not like this hasn’t happened before. The second your brother decides a guy isn’t good enough, he makes sure they know it. Makes sure they know you’re off-limits. Makes sure they understand that trying to get with you means losing him.

And no one—no one—ever chooses you over him.

You swallow hard, staring blankly at your phone screen, at the last message you sent Seung-hyun weeks ago—unread. Your fingers tighten around the device before you toss it onto your bed, exhaling sharply as frustration swirls in your chest. You feel stupid for thinking this time might be different: for thinking he might be different. You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head as you rub at your temple. Of course he isn’t.

Seung-hyun is Ji-yong’s best friend. He’s loyal. He’s been at Ji-yong’s side for years. Why would he risk all of that just because you—

You stop the thought before it can finish, because it doesn’t matter. Not anymore.

You shove yourself off your bed, heading into the kitchen. Maybe if you distract yourself, you can stop thinking about it. But just as you open the fridge, there’s a knock at your door.

You freeze.  Your heart skips once, twice— Before you shove it down, force yourself to move like nothing’s different, like your hands aren’t shaking as you swing the door open. And instead of the him your heart had foolishly prepared for— It’s her. Your best friend stands there, arms crossed, eyes scanning over you with concern. 

“Well, you look like shit.”

A breath of startled laughter escapes you before you can stop it. “Thanks?”

She rolls her eyes before stepping inside, shutting the door behind her. “You haven’t answered my calls. Or my texts. Or my DMs—which, honestly, is just rude, because I sent you, like, three different thirst traps this week, and I didn’t even get so much as a ‘damn.’”

You sigh, rubbing at your face. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been—”

“Don’t even try it.” She gives you a sharp look, reading through you like she always does. “I know exactly what this is about.”

You stiffen.

Her expression softens slightly. “You really liked him, didn’t you?”

You don’t answer right away. Because if you do—if you so much as say his name… you don’t know if you’ll be able to keep it together. Your friend watches you, giving you the space to not answer. And that, somehow, makes it even worse. Because if she knows—

If she could see it so easily—

Then maybe Seung-hyun could, too. Maybe that’s why it hurts so much that he left. He knew, and he still let Ji-yong scare him away.

You inhale sharply, forcing yourself to smile. “It’s fine.”

“Is it?”

“Yup.” You turn back toward the kitchen, grabbing the glass of water you’d meant to pour earlier. “I’ve been through this before.” You take a sip, ignoring the way your throat feels tight. “I’ll get over it.”

Your best friend hums, unconvinced. But she doesn’t push. Not yet. Instead, she just steps closer, nudging you lightly. “Okay,” she says. “Then let’s get you out of this house before you actually turn into a recluse.”

You blink at her. “What?”

She grabs your hand, dragging you toward your bedroom. “Get dressed. We’re going out.”

“I don’t want to go out.”

“I don’t care.”

You groan, but a tiny, reluctant smile tugs at your lips. For the first time in two weeks, the weight in your chest feels just a little lighter.

Your bedroom is a whirlwind of fabric and perfume, the air thick with the scent of your best friend’s signature fragrance as she pulls another dress from your closet. She moves with purpose, determined to drag you out of this slump, her energy a stark contrast to your own sluggish reluctance while you sit cross-legged on the bed, surrounded by rejected outfits, watching as she rifles through your wardrobe with growing impatience. The music playing in the background is lively, but you barely register it. The last two weeks have weighed you down, pressing into your chest with an ache you can’t quite shake.

Still, your friend refuses to let you wallow. She tosses a sleek black dress onto the bed and turns to face you, eyes sharp with challenge. There’s no room for argument; she’s already decided this is the night you pull yourself together.

With a sigh, you give in, slipping into the dress and letting her guide you to the vanity. She works with practiced ease, dusting warmth into your cheeks, shaping your lips with careful precision. The brushstrokes against your skin are soothing, and despite the heavy thoughts lingering in the back of your mind, you start to feel the slightest shift. When she finally steps back, you barely recognize yourself. The tiredness in your eyes is softened by expertly blended shadow, your lips are painted just enough to draw attention, and the dress—chosen with the confidence you lack—fits like it was meant for this very moment. It’s strange, seeing yourself like this after weeks of avoidance; borderline neglecting your self-care. 

You try to squash any thoughts of Seung-hyun, despite the way you desperately wanted to see the look on his face if he saw you all dolled up like this. 

The two of you finish getting ready, adding jewelry and perfume, slipping on heels that make your posture straighten. There’s something ritualistic about it, a slow transformation into the version of yourself that has always been there, waiting beneath the weight of your own emotions. As you grab your purse and step outside, the night air cools your skin, grounding you. The city hums with life, a stark contrast to the isolation you’ve felt these past two weeks. And though you tell yourself this is just another night out, a distraction at best, a small thought lingers—

What if he’s out tonight, too?

The moment you step out of the car, the night seems to shift around you. The streets are alive with energy—pulsing neon signs reflect off the rain-slick pavement, the heavy bass from the club vibrating through the ground. A line of people snakes around the corner, dressed to impress, some bouncing on their heels in anticipation, others murmuring conversations between furtive glances at the entrance.

And then, they see you.

Recognition spreads through the crowd in waves—whispers, stolen glances, the unmistakable flicker of phone screens lighting up as a few people subtly (or not so subtly) snap photos. You don’t react. You’re used to this. It happens everywhere—part of the life you lead, the name you carry, the effortless way you seem to glide through doors that others spend years trying to unlock.

The bouncer barely moves before stepping aside, giving you a nod of familiarity. No need to check the list. No need for introductions. You belong here.

Your best friend tightens her grip on your arm, her own confidence boosted by the attention surrounding you. “God, I forgot what it’s like going out with you,” she muses under her breath, just loud enough for you to hear over the music spilling from inside.

The club swallows you whole. The air is thick with perfume and liquor, the pulse of the bass syncing with your heartbeat. Strobe lights flash, illuminating shifting bodies on the dance floor, moving in a hypnotic rhythm. Everything is alive, buzzing with the kind of electric energy that only comes from people desperate to lose themselves in the night. Yet, you’re untouched by the chaos. Staff moving like clockwork the second they see you. A waiter materializes from the crowd, offering a drink before you’ve even reached the VIP section. The manager appears next, greeting you like an old friend, beaming as he gestures toward your usual booth—the best in the house, of course, always reserved, always waiting.

Exclusivity is intoxicating in its own way. Up here, away from the heat of the dance floor, everything is effortless. A chilled bottle of champagne is already being prepared, the ice clinking softly as the waiter pours the first glass. Plush seating, soft lighting, a perfect view of everything below without being swallowed by it. You settle into your seat with practiced ease, crossing one leg over the other as you accept the glass handed to you. Your friend does the same, grinning as she leans in. “Now this,” she purrs, “is what you needed.”

And she’s right. You should let go, let the music move through you, let the drinks warm you from the inside out. But there’s something about tonight—the way the air feels different, heavier, the way eyes linger a little too long. Your fingers tighten around the stem of your glass. The world around you moves, people laughing, drinks spilling, bodies dancing. But your mind lingers elsewhere—on someone else.

Still, you raise your glass.

If nothing else, you can pretend. For tonight, at least.

The first drink is the champagne, crisp and familiar. Then, another arrives—a deep amber cocktail with just the right balance of sweetness and burn. You barely have time to place your glass down before the next one is sent your way, this time from a stranger across the room. You smirk, twirling the glass in your fingers before lifting it in acknowledgment. The man—well-dressed, confident—raises his own in response, flashing a charming smile. You don’t hold his gaze for long. You don’t need to.

More drinks follow, some from admirers, others from people who simply want to say they sent a drink to you. Your best friend cackles beside you, clearly enjoying the spectacle. “You’re gonna have the whole bar competing for your attention by the end of the night,” she teases, nudging your shoulder.

“Let them try,” you muse, tipping back another sip. The warmth starts to spread through your limbs, a pleasant buzz settling in your chest. The tension in your shoulders eases. The music feels different now, the bass thrumming through your veins rather than pressing against them.

It’s easy to sink into it—the luxury, the attention, the way the world seems to revolve around you in moments like these. The weight of the past couple of weeks begins to fade, the ache of silence from the people you once called family pushed further and further back with every sip.

A DJ set kicks in, sending the dance floor into a frenzy. The beat is infectious, the kind that demands movement, that makes it impossible to sit still. Your friend senses it immediately, grabbing your wrist with an eager grin.

“Come on,” she urges, tugging you toward the edge of the VIP area. “No more sulking. You need this.”

You let her pull you along, laughter bubbling up despite yourself. Maybe she’s right. Maybe you do need this—just one night where nothing else matters, where you’re not your brother’s sister, not someone waiting for a call that won’t come. Just you, the music, the freedom. And the music takes over, a pulsating rhythm that thrums beneath your skin. Your best friend’s hands are in yours at first, spinning you playfully under the flashing lights, her laughter mixing with yours as you move. The energy in the club is electric, and you let yourself be swept up in it.

People gravitate toward you, drawn in by the effortless way you move, the way you let the beat dictate your steps. The strangers around you are eager, their eyes flickering with the kind of interest you’re used to—but tonight, you don’t mind. If anything, you welcome it.

One man steps closer, well-dressed, confident. His hands hover just near enough to be an invitation, waiting for a sign that he’s allowed to move closer. You let him. Not because you want him, not really, but because the thrill of attention is intoxicating, a distraction you so desperately need. Your best friend watches with an amused smirk before another person pulls her into the dance. She winks at you over her shoulder before disappearing into the crowd, leaving you surrounded by people who all seem desperate for a chance.

A hand brushes against yours, tentative, testing the waters. You don’t move away, just let it happen, just let yourself exist in this haze of music, flashing lights, and alcohol-fueled bliss. Someone murmurs something in your ear, their breath warm against your skin. You don’t catch the words, and you don’t really care to. The club pulses around you, a living, breathing thing—lights flashing in dizzying streaks, music vibrating through the floors, bodies pressing close as they move to the rhythm. Everything feels distant, as if you’re watching from behind a fogged-up window.

Your skin burns hot, but your limbs are cold, heavy, and uncooperative. A deep nausea stirs in your stomach, coiling tightly with something even more unsettling—an unshakable wrongness.

Why do you feel like this?

You’ve had drinks before, you know your limits. Your tolerance is high, your control steady. But now, the world spins in lazy, unrelenting circles, the edges smearing together like wet paint. Your breath comes uneven, shallow.

A hand steadies you at the waist. Too firm. Too much.

“You okay? You don’t look so good, sweetheart.” The voice is smooth, coaxing. Close. “Let’s get some air.”

No.

You try to step back, to push away, but your body refuses to obey. It’s like wading through thick, invisible water, limbs sluggish, weak. The grip on your waist tightens just slightly, steering you away from the dance floor.

No.

The word won’t leave your throat. It gets stuck, lost somewhere between the dizzying haze in your mind and the leaden weight of your limbs. You blink, trying to focus, trying to ground yourself, but the lights overhead blur, streaking across your vision.

Something is wrong.

The nausea rises higher, pressing against your ribs. You need to move. You need to get away.

And then—

A sharp voice slices through the fog, distant at first, then clearer, stronger. A hand grasps yours—smaller, urgent, safe. Then, just as quickly, the pressure at your waist disappears. Your balance wavers, legs barely supporting you, but the grip on your hand steadies you before you can collapse. There’s warmth against your side, firm but familiar, a scent you recognize even through the haze. Your vision swims, figures shifting, but then—

A face.

Familiar.

Safe.

Your best friend.

Her lips move, her expression stormy, but the words are lost to the thick fog filling your ears. Muffled, distant, like sound filtering through deep water.

But she’s here.

She saved you, she must have. Right?

A weak breath stutters past your lips as your fingers clutch at her sleeve, desperate for something solid, something real. She holds onto you tightly, grounding you, anchoring you. But something still feels off. Something lingers just beyond your comprehension, just out of reach. You try to chase the thought, try to grasp at the fraying edges of clarity, but the haze is pulling you under, thick and suffocating. Your best friend shifts, securing her hold on you, guiding you toward the exit. 

As the darkness creeps in at the edges of your vision, you let it.

“Look, man,” Ji-yong started, voice lower, more controlled than before. “I’ve had time to think.”

It’s been a week since you’ve spoken to any of them. He found himself sitting across from Seung-hyun, the tension between them thick but quieter now. Not fueled by anger, not anymore. Just something heavier. Something inevitable. He didn’t speak, just watched him carefully, waiting. Ji-yong scoffed, shaking his head, “you’re not gonna make this easy for me, are you?”

“You’ve never made it easy for me,” Seung-hyun finally said, a small, humorless smile ghosting over his lips. “So, no. I don’t think I will.”

“You really love her, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do…” 

Ji-yong swallowed hard, something tugging in his chest. “You know she’s my baby sister.”

“I know.”

“You know that means I’ve spent my whole life protecting her.”

“I know that, too.”

Ji-yong inhaled deeply, looking down at his hands before glancing back up, meeting Seung-hyun’s gaze head-on. “I don’t like the idea of anyone hurting her. Ever. And I don’t like the idea of someone taking her away from me.”

Seung-hyun’s expression softened, but his voice remained firm. “She’s not something to take, Ji-yong.”

Ji-yong flinched, just slightly, at the truth of it. He exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. “I know. But she’s—she’s important to me.”

“She’s important to me, too.”

Ji-yong let out a humorless chuckle. “Yeah. I can see that.” 

He sat there for a long moment, staring at Seung-hyun, the weight of years pressing down on him. His chest felt tight, his throat burned, and for the first time in a long time, he felt unsteady. Not because he was angry anymore—anger had long since faded, replaced by something more complicated.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, voice quiet. “I don’t know how to just—let go.”

Seung-hyun didn’t respond right away, and Ji-yong hated how much that made his heart race. He hated that he was the one feeling vulnerable. It had always been his job to be the strong one when it came to you—to stand between you and anything that could hurt you. And now, here he was, staring at the one person who could hurt you in a way Ji-yong never could stop. Not that Seung-hyun would hurt you in the first place. 

“I don’t want to take her from you, Ji-yong,” Seung-hyun finally said, his voice calm, sure. “I know what she means to you.”

Ji-yong let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t think you do.” He exhaled sharply, looking down at his hands. “She was just a kid when we started all this, you know? And I was never around as much as I should’ve been. I missed birthdays, holidays—shit, I missed entire years of her life because of this career. I know it’s only a couple years difference, but every time I came back, she was older, stronger. More independent. She always looked at me the same way. Like I was still her big brother. Like she still needed me.”

His voice cracked slightly, and he swallowed hard, gripping his hands together. “And now she doesn’t,” he whispered.

“That’s not true.”

“It is. She doesn’t need me to protect her anymore. She doesn’t need me to make sure she’s okay because you’re already doing that.” He finally looked up, his gaze raw and unguarded. “And I don’t know how to handle that.”

Seung-hyun’s expression softened. “She still needs you, Ji-yong. She always will. But she also needs to live her life. She needs to be happy.”

“And you think you can make her happy?”

“I know I can.”

Ji-yong studied him, searching for any sign of doubt, any hesitation—but there was none. Seung-hyun wasn’t just saying it. He believed it. And Ji-yong hated that it made him feel just a little better.

“I don’t like it,” Ji-yong muttered.

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

Ji-yong exhaled sharply, shaking his head before finally meeting Seung-hyun’s gaze head-on. “Just—don’t make me regret this.”

Seung-hyun nodded once, firm and sure. “I won’t.”

Ji-yong stared at him for another long second before finally sighing, leaning back in his seat. “Fuck,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I feel like I’m giving my kid away.”

Seung-hyun smirked slightly. “She’d kill you for saying that.”

Ji-yong let out a quiet laugh, the tension in his chest loosening just a little. “Yeah, she would.” He sighed again, shaking his head. “Alright. Just—take care of her. Or I swear to God, Seung-hyun, I will ruin your life.”

Seung-hyun chuckled. “Trust me, I know.”

Ji-yong exhaled, finally allowing himself to lean into it. It still hurt, still felt like something was shifting in a way he wasn’t quite ready for. But for the first time since he’d figured it out, he didn’t feel like he was losing you.

And that, for now, was enough.

Soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. The familiar scent of home wrapped around you, grounding you before your mind fully caught up with your body. Your limbs felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion, but something was… different. Blinking against the morning haze, you slowly turned your head, and that’s when you saw him.

Seung-hyun.

He was sitting in the chair beside your bed, his tall frame slouched forward, elbows resting on his knees. One hand was curled loosely around yours, like he’d been holding it the whole night. His face was soft in sleep, his usual sharp features relaxed. Even like this, exhausted and barely upright, he hadn’t left your side. Your brows furrowed as you tried to make sense of it.

“Seung-hyun?” Your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, but it was enough.

His lashes fluttered before he stirred, blinking slowly as he straightened. The second his gaze found yours, relief softened his expression.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

You nodded slightly, your mind still struggling to piece things together. “Where… where is everyone?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Instead, his thumb brushed over the back of your hand, grounding, reassuring.

“They went home,” he finally said. “Ji-yong wanted to stay, but he knew you’d be okay with me here.”

Something about that made your chest ache. Ji-yong had been here. He had wanted to stay. But somehow, Seung-hyun had been the one left behind, the one who stayed through the night.

Your fingers curled slightly in his grasp. “You stayed.”

“Of course.”

The weight of those words settled between you. Simple. Certain. And for the first time in a while, you just let yourself breathe. He stayed quiet for a moment, his thumb still brushing over the back of your hand as if the touch alone could keep you anchored. His gaze flickered over your face, searching for something—maybe reassurance, maybe understanding.

“You scared me,” he finally admitted, voice barely above a whisper. You blinked at him, startled by the rawness in his tone. “I’ve never seen you like that before,” he continued, swallowing hard. His other hand lifted hesitantly, hovering near your face before he finally let himself cup your cheek. His palm was warm, grounding. “I didn’t know what to do except—stay.”

Your heart ached at the confession, at the quiet vulnerability in his voice.

“I didn’t leave your side all night,” he murmured. “Not once. Because the thought of you waking up alone, especially after something like that happening…” He trailed off, his fingers curling slightly against your cheek. “I couldn’t let that happen.”

You felt your breath hitch.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed again, his eyes shining with something heavier now—something unspoken for too long.

“I know I should have told you sooner,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I should have said it before now, before last night, before you ever had to wonder where I stood. But I—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I love you.”

Your lips parted, stunned into silence.

“I’ve loved you longer than I even realized,” he admitted, his thumb brushing against your cheek like he was memorizing the feel of you. “It just… snuck up on me. The way you talk, the way you laugh, the way you challenge me, the way you’re just unapologetically you.” His lips trembled slightly as he let out a quiet, almost broken laugh. “I love all of it. I love you.”

A tear slipped down his cheek, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Seung-hyun…”

“I thought I was okay just being near you,” he confessed, shaking his head. “I thought maybe that was enough. But last night…” He inhaled shakily, his eyes searching yours. “Last night, I realized it’s not. I need you to know. I need you to hear me say it, because I can’t—I can’t keep pretending it’s not true.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy and fragile. Then, carefully, you lifted your free hand, brushing away the tear that traced down his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut at the touch, like he was savoring it. When he opened them again, you saw nothing but love in them. Deep, unwavering, and real.

Your fingers trembled slightly as they rested against Seung-hyun’s cheek, your own breath catching in your throat. His confession was still settling in, still sinking into the parts of you that had spent too long wondering, too long hoping.

But the weight of last night was still there, too. A tear slipped past your lashes before you could stop it. Then another. Seung-hyun’s brows knitted together in concern, his hand instantly tightening around yours. “Hey…” he whispered, brushing his thumb along your cheekbone, catching the tears before they could fall any further. “Why are you crying?”

You let out a shaky breath, swallowing the knot in your throat. “Because…” Your voice wavered, and you squeezed your eyes shut for a second before looking at him again. “Because I thought Ji-yong scared you away.”

Seung-hyun’s lips parted, his brows drawing together even more.

“I thought—I thought I lost you,” you admitted, your voice cracking. “I was so scared you’d leave, that you wouldn’t want to deal with all of this, with me, with everything going on.” Another tear slipped free, and this time, he cupped your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing your skin so gently it nearly made you break even more. His own tears still lingered in his lashes, his eyes searching yours with something close to heartbreak.

“You really thought I’d leave?”

You gave the smallest nod, biting your lip as your chest tightened. “I didn’t know if you’d want to see me again. If you’d think it was all too much. If—” Your voice cracked again, and you shook your head, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “I didn’t know if I’d ever get to hear from you again.”

Seung-hyun let out a soft, shaky exhale before pulling you forward, his forehead pressing against yours.

“I would never,” he whispered, his voice firm despite the emotion in it. “I would never walk away from you. Not now. Not ever.”

Your breath hitched.

“Ji-yong didn’t scare me away,” he murmured, shaking his head slightly. “Nothing could.”

You let out a quiet, broken sound at that, your fingers clutching at the front of his shirt.

His hands moved, one slipping into your hair as he tilted his head to look at you, his nose brushing against yours. “You don’t have to be scared anymore,” he whispered. “You’re not losing me. You never were.”

The sheer certainty in his voice, the quiet but unwavering promise—it unraveled something inside you. So you let yourself sink into him, your hands fisting his shirt as you let out a shaky exhale, more tears slipping free. And Seung-hyun was right there to catch them, to catch you.

Seung-hyun let out a soft chuckle, his fingers still stroking gently through your hair. “You know… I actually talked to Ji-yong about everything.”

You blinked, sniffling as you pulled back slightly to look at him. “You did?”

He nodded, his lips twitching as if he were holding back a smile. “Yeah. A real conversation this time—no tension, no dramatics, no threats of murder.”

A watery laugh escaped you, and Seung-hyun grinned, his thumb brushing away the last of your tears. “I think he was relieved, honestly. He was just… scared for you, too. But we worked things out. He knows how I feel about you.”

“And… how do you feel about me?”

“I’m in love with you.”

Your heart skipped.

“I have been for a long time,” he continued, his voice quieter now, more certain than ever. “And I don’t care how complicated things get, or how long it takes. I just want to be with you.”

A fresh wave of emotion welled in your chest, but before you could say anything, he exhaled softly, his lips quirking into something shy. “And, well…” He tilted his head slightly, his eyes flickering to your lips for the briefest second before meeting your gaze again. “I’d really like to kiss you right now, but only if you want me to.”

Your stomach fluttered. The warmth in his eyes, the careful way he held you, the way he asked instead of assuming—it made your heart ache in the best way. So you didn’t hesitate. You leaned in first, tilting your chin up as your fingers curled into his shirt. “I want you to.” 

Seung-hyun’s breath hitched just slightly before he closed the remaining distance, his lips brushing over yours with a hesitation that made your heart stutter. The first press was gentle, almost as if he were memorizing the feel of you—soft, warm, familiar in a way he’d longed for. Then, with a quiet sigh, he deepened it, his lips moving against yours in a slow, unhurried rhythm, like he had all the time in the world to savor this moment. His hands cradled your face, his thumbs tracing delicate circles against your skin, anchoring you in the tenderness of it all. When you responded—kissing him back with just as much feeling—he let out the faintest sound, something between a sigh and a hum, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

As he pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his hands still cupping your face, a small, breathless laugh escaped him. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, as if grounding himself in the reality of having you here.

"You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that," he murmured, his voice warm with affection.

You let out a soft, watery laugh, your heart still racing. "I think I have some idea," you teased, though your voice wavered with emotion.

"Then you also know I don’t plan on going anywhere," he said gently. "Not now. Not ever."

Tears pricked at your eyes again, but this time, they weren’t from fear or sadness. They were from the overwhelming warmth of hearing the words you’d been too afraid to believe in before. You nodded, leaning into him, pressing another soft kiss to the corner of his lips.

"Good," you whispered, a smile tugging at your lips. "Because neither do I."

He let out a content sigh, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his chest. He held you like you were something precious, something irreplaceable. And as you nestled into him, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, you realized that for the first time in a long time, everything felt right.

You were home. And Seung-hyun was home, too.

taglist: @thanosscrossmain @maskedcrawford @mirahyun @riddlerloveb0t @onyxmango @sherrayyyyy @seunghyunwifey @mattsturniolosbabymama @redhoodedtoad @bettelaboure @cinnamonbear22 @xxxicddbr88 @infinetlyforgotten @babygirlewis @loveesiren @tulentiy @babyrvis  @petersasteria @tweedledumb08 @forevervibezzzz1 @lariem-blog2 @slut4namgyu

[run2ikeu]

confessions to make ; lee heeseung

college student!hee x college student!reader

word count : 2k

synopsis: you and heeseung are aware of the tension that lies between the two of you, it’s just a matter of acting on it. although it’s unspoken, you should know better than to let people touch what’s his.

authors note: hiii guys this is like my first fic in YEARS .. i haven’t written anything in so long so please be kind to me heh. this is also my first enha centered fic so yayyy. feedback is appreciated !

warnings!: smut (mdni), basically no plot, mild aftercare, jake sim mention (he’s too fine not to be a warning)

There’s something different about the way he looks at you. You’ve seen Heeseung interact with your shared friends, classmates and even strangers on the street. That's just who he is; a socialite. There’s something different about him with you, though

You thought you were imagining all of it at first. The lingering touches, whispers and secrets shared as you hangout with your friends, and the burning sensation of his eyes on you. ‘He’s like this with everyone’ you tell yourself, but you don’t know if that’s true. Your movements are always so calculated under his gaze, you liked knowing that he was watching. You were drawn to him, and he seemed to be drawn to you.

It was like he had an unspoken ownership over you. Watching you, stopping guys from getting too close. He knew what they wanted, because he wanted it too. Never going further than a hand on your thigh or a label more than ‘close friends’, you weren’t sure how he really felt about you.

You begin to let your thoughts drift, imagining those same eyes staring at you as you’re laying below him while he-

“Y/nnnnnnnnnn” Loud as ever, Jungwon snaps you out of your daydream. An exaggerated sigh of your name leaving his lips.

“Y/n, Are you even listening to me?” he sighs, “I’m sorry Won, I’m just thinking about this uh- presentation I have to do?” your face begins to heat up. You’re lying, and not very well at that.

“I’m not stupid y/n. You’re thinking about Heeseung, aren’t you?” he smiles at you, tilting his head. Jungwon is the only person who knows about your weird relationship with Heeseung, and he continues to tease you about it. Making you question why you told him about it in the first place.

“Wh- uh No?” you avoid eye contact. Your eyes drift to the rows of bookshelves, pretending to be interested in the genre sections to avoid embarrassment.

“You’re an awful liar,” he laughs, “Anyway, as I was saying before you tuned me out, there’s a party tonight. Sunoo and I were thinking of going, do you wanna come?” He begins packing up his books. He looks up at you expectantly, “Jake Sim is hosting, you know him right?”

You sigh, you hate parties. “I- I don’t know Won. I don’t really do well at parties and Jake and I aren’t really friends so I feel like it’d be kind of-”

“Heeseung will be there.” He cuts you off suddenly.

You stop, “So what time are you picking me up?” Jungwon smiles.

Immediately after your arrival, Jungwon and Sunoo left you to join a game of beer pong, leaving you in the living room by yourself. That’s when you saw him- saw them. Heeseung and some girl, they’re dancing. She has her arms around his neck and has his arms around her waist. Suddenly you feel stupid for how much time you spent getting ready and you realize how sober you are.

That’s how you ended up here, pushed up against the counter of Jake Sims' kitchen.

Jake’s sweet, he really is, but you just need a distraction. Although you spent hours getting ready with Heeseung in mind, you’re realizing how absolutely breathtaking Jake is up close.

“Fuck, you look so good tonight. Don’t think I can handle it,” Jake rasps, his breath warm on your neck and reeking of alcohol. The music is blaring in your ears and you feel your heart begin to beat faster.

“Don’t think you can handle me?” you whisper in his ear, a rush of confidence taking over.

Jake chuckles, he begins kissing a trail from your collarbone to your earlobe. He licks the shell of your ear, his breathing heavy and hot. He moves his lips to your jaw, sucking and kissing you as he begins to grind into you.

That’s when you feel it. You open your eyes, nearly against your own will, and you see him. The burning sensation of his eyes on you suddenly washing away your confidence. He looks angry. His jaw is clenched and his eyes are different. The admiration that’s normally directed your way is replaced by repulsion.

You suddenly push Jake off of you. Feeling overwhelmed, you rush upstairs in search of a bathroom.

“Y-Y/n I- fuck. Where are you going?!” He attempts to follow, but you’re gone before he knows it.

You need to breathe. The heat is consuming you and suddenly the clothes on your body are heavy. You stare in the mirror, “What the fuck just happened?”, you whisper.

The doorknob begins to shake. You open it and attempt to exit, “Sorry, you can-” suddenly you’re being pushed back in and you're moved to sit on the counter.

It’s Heeseung.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he’s pissed. “I’m not there and suddenly you’re basically fucking Jake in front of everyone?”. His stare is piercing, awaiting your response.

“I- I wasn’t fucking anyone. And what are you? My dad?” you scoff, rolling your eyes and looking away from him, “plus it's not like we’re dating or anything Heeseung, you don’t own me. And I.. I saw you with that girl so just f-fuck off” Your mind is cloudy and you feel anxious under his gaze.

Immediately he grabs your jaw, seeing a mark left by Jake. ‘Disgusting’, he thinks. “What? We were just dancing. Bold of you to be upset with me when Jake Sim was grinding on you for the world to see.” he moves to whisper in your ear, “I don’t like people touching what's mine. You’re mine, Y/n.” He pulls back, looking in your eyes for a moment. Before you can respond, he smashes his lips onto yours and you melt into the kiss.

The softness of it contrasts his rough grip on your jaw. His hand moves to the back of your head and the other moves to your chest. He stops and pulls back, “Do you want this? Do want me, Y/n?” You nod immediately, but that isn’t enough for him.

“Say it, say you want me to fuck you right here.” He moves both his hands to your waist and you panic, “I-I want you to fuck me, Heeseung.. Please” your face heats up even more, if that was possible. You feel small under his gaze. He smiles and pulls you into another kiss. You moan into it and he trails his hands down to your shorts, unbuttoning them and lifting you up a bit to pull them down harshly.

His hand cups your heat, feeling how wet you are. He breaks the kiss, “This for me, or did Jake get you this wet?” his breathing is heavy and he moves to bite your neck.

You whimper, “You- all you Heeseung, fuck, please.” You feel him smile on your neck, “Please what, baby? Use your words.”

“Touch me, please seung. Don’t be mean.” You attempt to grind into his hand and he smiles at your neediness.

“Whatever my girl wants, she gets” he says proudly, moving back and pulling your panties down.

He uses two fingers to spread your pussy open and his free hand to push your legs apart, admiring the wetness. He plunges a finger in, the stretch feeling almost foreign. You moan loudly, inspiring him to add a second. Immediately, his pace is relentless. His fingers are long, reaching places you’ve never explored. He moves his thumb to rub your clit and he continues his assault on your neck.

“Want you covered in my marks only. You’re only mine.” You breathlessly nod, you feel a tightening sensation in your core. Your moans get louder and he can tell you’re close.

Then suddenly, he stills his fingers and pulls his head back to stare at you.

You feel tears forming and your whole body burns again, “S-seung, why did you stop, please?” You whimper, attempting to grind your hips closer to his fingers that are now hovering over your core.

“Say you’re mine right now or I’ll leave you here like this. I’ll go fuck that bitch I was dancing with, I’m sure she knows how to listen.” His eyes are cold and he’s fighting back a smirk.

“I’m y-yours seung, please, I’ve always been yours,” you’re breathing heavily and whimpering in between your words, the sight is almost pathetic. At your words, he shoves his fingers back inside your dripping heat and your moans echo off the walls of the small bathroom. “Don’t want Jake, just you Hee- fuck- just y- you” Heeseung smirks and quickens his pace.

“That’s right, this pussys mine too, isn’t it?” You begin nodding aggressively, the heat in your lower belly is rising.

You’ve never seen Heeseung so jealous and possessive before, the sight turns you on even more.

He moves to kiss you again. It’s sloppy and a clashing of teeth and tongue, your mind is running wild and you feel the band in your stomach about to snap. “Close Heeseung, so close, please” The words come out rushed, in fear he might stop again.

He continues fingering you and uses his other hand to make quick work of his belt and jeans. “Hold it for me baby, want you to come on my cock,” He pulls down his boxers and you look down, ‘hes huge’ you think to yourself. You begin to wonder how it's supposed to fit.

He smirks at you knowingly, “It’ll fit, sweetheart. I’ll make it fit.” He takes his fingers out of you and uses the wetness from your core to lubricate his aching cock. “Fuck”, he moans, jerking himself off in preparation for your pussy.

He rubs the tip on your clit and you shudder. He moves his tip to your hole and begins pushing it in slowly, the stretch of his fingers were nothing compared to his cock. “Fuck, how’re you still so fucking tight?” he moans, pushing himself all the way in.

You feel your climax approaching almost instantly, your body feeling sensitive. You cling onto his shoulders in an attempt to ground yourself and he pulls you closer, kissing your neck and finding a sensitive spot behind your ear.

“I-I’m gonna cum Hee, please I’m- Oh fuck” your head falls back and you feel yourself let go.

“Yeah that's right,” his thrusts become harder, the sound of slapping and your squelching pussy drowning out the sound of the music. “Let go baby, fuck, you feel so good” He fucks you through it and brings his thumb down to rub your clit. You come down from your high and your body is beyond sensitive, “Too much seung,” you whimper. Your head falls to rest on his chest.

“Just a little more baby, be good for me.” His thrusts are slow but hard, making your sensitive body jolt. He finally releases, pulling out to cum on your thigh.

He kisses your head, his breathing heavy and laboured. He pulls his jeans up and moves away to opens the top drawer, finding a face cloth. He turns on the sink to get it wet and he moves to clean you up. It’s silent, but it’s comfortable. He kneels on the floor, spreading your thighs slowly to clean the remnants of the events. It feels as if you’ve done this with him a million times.

He finally speaks up, “I’m sorry if i was too rough,” He looks up, looking at the marks he left on your neck. He feels a sense of pride, but he does feel a bit guilty. “I’ll be more gentle next time, and next time won’t be in Jake Sims' bathroom. I promise” you smile as he finishes wiping you off.

“Next time?” you look down at him, your smile widening.

“What? Did you think I was joking when I said you were mine?” he scoffs, almost offended.

He moves you off the counter and helps retrieve your panties and shorts. “Well, are you gonna ask me out on a date?” you button your shorts, avoiding his eyes.

He stands and lifts up your chin to look at him. “Y/n, will you please let me take you on a date?” he smiles, bringing both his hands to your waist.

“Of course,” you bring your hands to cup his face and kiss him slowly.

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

[81pastrys]

Mila or Lila gets their first period while moms away plsss

Wrong Parent

Summary— Oscar encouraged getaways for his wife, but the one time she should’ve been home for their daughter she wasn’t.

Warnings— first period ; mum being dismissive

A/N— I’ve written sm of Lila, so this one is Oscar and Mila

Oscar encouraged girls trips for his wife, so often she ended up on them every other off month. This trip however, she was needed more at home. Oscar noticed something was up when Mila hadn’t come out her room all day.

He knocked on her door and waited for a response, he heard her scrambling and scrunched his face. What was she hiding? That’s not like her. “Uhh come in.” She said timid. He opened the door and she was sitting on her bed, her body stiff and tense.

“Are you okay?” He asked, concerned. He looked around curiously, she had hidden something from him. “You’ve been in your room all day.” He explained. She dragged her hand through her hair nervously.

“All good.” She nodded. He stepped in her room fully and crossed his arms. He gave her the signature ‘tell me’ dad look and she nearly burst into tears.

“Mums not here and I don’t know what to do.” She whined before tears fell down her face. Oscar eased his stance and joined her on the bed. He’s confused as to what she is talking about.

“What do you mean? What’s wrong Mila?” He asked. It was now he saw the pile of sheets and pajamas by her hamper, horribly stuffed behind her open closet door.

“I-I don’t know, mum briefly mentioned it but I wasn’t..” She couldn’t find the words on how to explain her ‘issue’ leaving Oscar severely concerned now. “I texted her and called her and she hasn’t answered, I’m scared daddy.” He thought she grew out of the ‘daddy’ phase a few years ago, something serious was going on and he didn’t know what.

“Her time zones are different angel, what’s going on?” He didn’t want to pressure her, but he wanted her to know he was there. Her phone lit up with her mums contact. She answered it on speaker.

“Hey my angel.” She sounded like she just woke up, hungover maybe? “What’s the matter? Why all the calls and” She stopped talking. Oscar was kept in the dark. “No need to panic Mila, dad’s there?” She asked.

“I’m right here.” He said. “Do I need to take you to the emergency room?” He was a bit panicked now. They both shouted the opposite, her mum saying no and Mila saying yes.

“No angel, you’re going to be fine, I can explain everything when I get back, for now talk with your dad, he knows about what it is.” Her mum said, she was definitely hungover and was not expecting this conversation now.

“I can’t help you if you don’t elaborate Mila.” Oscar said. His phone buzzed and he jumped up. “Oh. OH.” He said. Mila sat in anticipation. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” He left the room in a hurry.

He grabbed a box of pads from his room and then went back to Mila. He tossed the box at her. “What am I supposed to do with this?” She sniffled, she genuinely thought she was not fine but couldn’t express that to Oscar.

“They’re for periods.” He started. He walked to her bedside and hugged her while she sat in her bed. “You’re not going to die angel, it’s a part of womanhood.” He said to her. “I think there’s instructions on the box.” He said quietly. She laughed through the tears and hugged him back.

He gave her a minute alone until she emerged with the sheets and pajamas for the wash. “I can wash them.” She mumbled. Mila? Doing laundry? Absolutely not, she’ll find a way to blow up the washer.

“I’ve got it angel, send me a list of snacks you want and I’ll go get them.” He kissed her head before taking the dirtied sheets and washing them. A list came through on his phone and he skimmed through it. “You’re alright if I go to the store?” He asked.

“Now that I know I won’t die, yeah.” She said. He laughed and she joined. “Oh and ice cream!” She blurted. Oscar left for the store, getting all the snacks, ice cream, a heating pad, and other things she likes before returning home with it all.

“So, there are these things called cramps.” Oscar sighed at her. “That’s what the heating pad is for, the snacks are for us to watch your favorite show cuddled up on the couch.” He explained. She hugged him and he smiled.

He turned on the living room tv and set the snacks for them to binge on. He turned the lights out and she cuddled close to him under the fuzzy blanket he just bought.

This was written at 1:30 in the morning.

Taglist: @il0vereadingstuff

[erinwantstowrite]

Please yap more about the Psych AU! I just started watching season 7!! Also, who is your favorite character from Psych?

Hmmm well i don't wanna spoil too much... So i guess i'll yap about some general premise stuff?

I should clarify that LoF peter and Psych peter are pretty different backstory wise. I kept the sameish design because i just like drawing peter, but they have some variations between them. Like: uncle ben died, aunt may didn't. she actually gets transported with peter to this alt universe, so she's very involved in this au. i just haven't drawn her yet.

I also chose harry osborn instead of ned because i didn't want every au to be the same. I would have loved writing ned in this au, but he gets a lot of chance to shine in LoF. harry is in more spider-man iterations as peter's best friend and i feel like he fit that shawn and gus dynamic more with peter. (I see them as platonic in most universes.) ((I also see shawn and gus as platonic). in this au, harry and peter met when they were pretty young, sometime after peter's parents died (which would still be when he was around four years old). Norman is a pretty good dad at this time so he helps peter get into a good school so he and harry can have classes together (and also cause he thinks peter deserves a good school too). But harry and norman, over time, end up with a terrible relationship. Mostly caused by Norman slowly slipping into the Green Goblin role. so, he spends a lot of time with the Parkers. After ben's death, harry vows to take care of peter and may both. he ends up being the reason they accidentally find themselves in an alternate universe, but no one is really mad at him about it because May and Peter hit hard times and were about to lose their house, etc. don't want to tell y'all too much because i wanna save it, but that's our basics with backstory and set up

currently, i'm not sure if i want them to start in metropolis and end up in gotham, or start in gotham and end up in metropolis. I kind of lean towards them living in gotham but having a lot of business in metropolis

And by business, i mean that Peter gets into the photography business. He captures photos of all kinds of heroes and vigilantes, and sells them to newspapers for the highest pay. As Peter becomes more sure of his spider powers, he also becomes spider-man but with way more of a journalist vibe. I want him catching crooks in the act and exposing them with the pictures, becoming a mysterious freelance writer/photographer as well as vigilante. You can imagine how Clark Kent and Lois Lane are going to react lmfao

But then you also have the actual premise of the fic itself: Psych. Peter and Harry are both investigating something when they run into someone (at this point in time, i'm thinking Superboy aka Kon-El), and to get out of saying what the real deal is, he pretends to be psychic. Harry is mortified but he decides to roll with it. So now Peter has to pretend to be psychic, and Harry starts up a whole business about it. That means we're getting both of these businesses at once, which will converge that Bats and the Supers both into the storyline.

Why are they putting all this effort in for money? Well, one reason being duh, they need money in this new world. But mostly because it's gonna help take care of May, and they'll also get to start a new life in this alt universe

Also, my favorite Psych character is Gus. I love him so much, he's so stupid and so smart at the same time. Have you heard about pluto?

[creatingblackcharacters]

Hi, I wanted your opinion on giving Black (USAmerican) characters culturally Black first names.

I understand Black people can and do have any kind of name that they or their parents choose, but in my own racial experience, I hate when a work has Latino characters but none of them have Latino first names, for example. I'd like to give my Black characters authentic first names, but I don't want to make up a "Black sounding" name and I don't know where to start looking for real frequently used names.

I also believe that names hint at what type of vibe a character has, like a "Timmy" having a different personality to a "Chad" if that makes sense. I'm not sure which name gives off which vibe when it comes to Black American names.

Is this a reasonable thing to consider? And if so, do you have any resources on Black names? Anything from baby name websites to studies on the history of Black American first names would be helpful. I specify "Black American" because while I also have Black Latino characters, I'm familiar with naming trends and meanings for that demographic. Thank you for your advice!

Changing one’s name might be one of the most American things a Black person can do, emblematic of one of the country’s most enduring, if elusive, promises: that where you begin isn’t necessarily where you must end.

One can find themselves introduced to the world as Chloe Anthony Wofford and exit it as Toni Morrison, or begin life as Gloria Jean Watkins and conclude it as bell hooks.

Behind a name lies an expanse of motivations, possibilities and intentions. A name, chosen, repeated and stubbornly asserted, can point to reclamation, remembrance and self-determination, as it did for many kidnapped and enslaved Africans who fought to hold fast to their homelands. For enslaved Americans running away to emancipate themselves, a name change could be just as much about security as self-possession.

I understand your question, but I feel like by asking what is "specifically Black American" you are forgetting that "Black American" would still be a melting pot of names because we are a melting pot of people, with lots of historical and cultural events having an effect on the names we choose- even if it's not as structured as it might be in Latin America. I think by trying to do what you're saying here (like "names that have vibes"), you have a good chance of slipping into stereotypes and I'm not comfortable encouraging you to think that way. Black Americans often gift their children names that signify what they wish for their child, or how they feel about them- pick a name with some strong meaning, and have that character embody (or struggle against) that!

Try watching these, and see if you have any more questions!

[random-blurbs]

Hi I just found your blog and omg love your writing!! 10/10!! Would it be ok if I hear your thoughts or hcs on Mark but how do you think he would treat his darling if there were different species ? (Like human , mega human or an alien ?) (I’m fine with female or gn reader ^^) please 🙏

A/n: Aww thanks I appreciate reading that!! ╰(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)╯

In my very professional and correct opinion - I really don’t think Mark gives a fuck if that makes sense. Like if he’s interested in you and you got a solid personality man is willing to be your #1 cheerleader. Human or not man is just happy to be there, if anything he would be mad curious wanting to know every detail about you. Which can be good for late night talks lol

So have my headcannons!! Never done those before so hopefully it’s good.

Mark x Alien!Reader

- “Wait is that like regular you, or your costume?” He apologizes every time he remembers his first words to you when he thought he was fighting a villain recognizing how he might need to check his words from now on.

- “You didn’t know Mark it’s fine.” Even after all the apologies he always takes you out for a sweet treat every time he remembers wanting to see a smile on your face, and not hate him for his words. (Which you can never do)

- If you ever want to win an argument you always pull that card, effectively making him shut up and get on his knees to apologize.

- Without you knowing he has made a list of all your little quirks in his note apps, never wanting to forget something that can make you feel out of place with your time on Earth.

- He was always so curious where you came from, as he admired the gold lines streaking your body, it was a delicate set of patterns that glow when you’re feeling too much of one emotion. And the singular twirly antenna sprout you have on the top of your head made it hard for him to not fall for you, weirdly so. All of this effectively made you stick out when you’re walking down the streets as you’re usually beaming, a walking star practically.

-It hurts his eyes, like really bad (he’ll never tell you this) so by the end of the day he’s squinting at his mom trying to recall the moments he had good vision

- Everytime people give him the solution of sunglasses he shoots it down, wanting to embrace every part of you… even if it blinds him

- You forced him to wear sunglasses ever since you saw his trash piled with eye drops

- “How do you not find them cute?” He asked shocked, looking up at you with a scooped up kitten in his arms. “These ‘things’ are demons on my planet practically.” You say bluntly, shivering at the cat-infested home you remembered you left. Misinterpreting your words as 100% truth; whenever there’s a cat nearby he scoops you up with so much panic you always assume you’re being under attacked. But in fact it was just him throwing you over his shoulder and hauling ass away from the cat.

- He likes feeling the difference between your skin, and the gold plates practically etched onto your body feeling the difference in texture. He likes hearing the noise when he taps on it hearing a clank every time making him chuckle.

-If we’re being honest he can keep himself entertained for a good hour just doing that with every part of your body.

-He still loves and cherishes it didn’t matter what you are. He loves the crinkle your eyes do whenever you smile, the way you wear your emotions free for everyone to see never ashamed of who you were.

- You being so in tune with your emotions, you always help him understand his own considering everything he goes through, glad you’re by him through it all.

- It was a burning question every time he sees your antenna bouncing around. He needs to ask. But would he offend? He doesn’t want to. But the curiosity is killing him.

- It took him a year to ask you.

- “If like…… someone cuts your antenna do you die?”

- You couldn’t help but give him massive side-eye as you try to see if he’s holding an unknown pair of scissors. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

- “It’s not like I was going to cut it!”

- “You said it so suspiciously can you blame me!”

- You don’t die if it’s cut. (Much to your own relief whenever you see Mark holding scissors)

- He’s glad that you never joined the hero scene much to Cecil’s dismay considering he knows what’s going to happen if you do.

-Everyone is going to love you, see how beautiful you are, fall in love and there’s never going to be enough time to be one another, and you’ll leave him to rot. And he really wouldn’t want to resort to locking you in his closet so he’s grateful you’re all his.

-That’s what he says atleast as you gave him an unimpressed look at his dramatics.

- “That wouldn’t happen.”

- “You don’t know that.”

- He adores and practically kisses the floor you walk on, never feeling luckier to be called your boyfriend.

- If you get Mark to love you human or not he would do anything in his power to make you the happiest person in the planet.

[sparkbirdmusic]

I understand if I'm crossing a boundry but i was wondering how you knew you were non binary? I really like titles and the one given to me feels like it doesnt fit quite right. I understand if you dont respond because thats really personal.

I'm comfortable talking about it!

Part of it is that words like "man" don't feel accurate when applied to me. I used to think that was because of my sexuality, because for so long sexuality was kind of the focal point of queer identities.

Then I did this project for a queer studies class where I studied an online community project called Genderfork. Because Genderfork was a photo-based project, for the creative component of the assignment, me and my group took our own photos playing with gender. For the photos, my AFAB (assigned female at birth) classmates dressed in more masculine-presenting ways, and for some reason I (an AMAB person) found myself doing the same.

(I had always been clean-shaven up to then. Later I had facial hair for a while, and for a while that felt right, but now it feels strange to me and has for several years. idk, we're all in flux!)

As a kid I loved everything "girly," I wore body glitter, I played with dolls, everyone thought I was a girl, I absolutely wanted to be a girl... if I'd grown up with different parents, I'm 95% sure I'd be a trans woman. (And I know it's never too late, but I'm fine with where I've settled. For now! Who knows.) BUT I think I would still have come to the conclusion that gender is a social construct, and ended up nonbinary eventually. I think there's something in me that sees the ambiguity in everything.

Other aspects of my childhood seem like clues to my being nonbinary. I got along well with other kids who weren't gender-typical, especially tomboys. And my favorite stories were ones where girls cut off their hair and pretended to be boys (the Alanna series by Tamora Pierce, The Gentleman Outlaw and Me—Eli by Mary Downing Hahn, Mulan, etc.). I think I related so hard because it felt like what I was doing.

Several years into my relationship with my partner Adam, he started exploring his gender identity and presentation. He dressed very femme for a while, and it led me to confront aspects of my sexuality and my own gender identity. Eventually he settled back into identifying as male and dressing in ways that are more male-coded, though lately that's evolving again. (again, we're all in flux)

Somewhere in there, amidst my obsession with Steven Universe and a nonbinary storyline in the show Transparent, I started seriously questioning my gender identity. Then one day, at a moment when I was actively questioning my gender identity, Adam asked, "Have you ever questioned your gender identity?" And I screamed, "WHAT?!" because his timing was so uncanny.

From there I very quickly started using they/them pronouns. And I knew it was what felt right for me, but I was super nervous about being accepted by other trans people as Trans Enough. I decided to be brave and go to a meeting of a trans group on my college campus. When we went around the circle introducing ourselves, I told them my pronouns were they/them, adding, "That's the first time I've said that to anyone but my partner.”

Afterward, I nervously went up to the group leader (a binary trans woman) and said, "I hope it's okay that I was here." And she looked thoughtful and said, "Hmm. I don't know. I'll ask people and see if they were okay with it."

I went home crying. I'm totally fine now (this was 2017), and I only share this aspect of my coming out as an excuse to say: YOU ARE TRANS ENOUGH. If you don't exclusively identify as the gender you were assigned at birth, you are trans enough. People (especially in trans circles) are thankfully way more familiar with nonbinary as an identity now than they were in 2017, so I pray this doesn't happen as much now as it did then. But if it does (to any nonbinary person out there), please know that Sparkbird says you ARE indeed trans enough to go to the trans group.

Anyway that's a condensed version of my nonbinary story! 💚

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

(This one is just gonna be me thinking out loud, not really giving advice or making a point, so feel free to skip ahead if that’s not your thing!) 

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

Like many autistic people, I’d say I have special interests (intense, highly specific interests that take up much of my free time and thoughts, and bring me great joy). 

I think mine tick all the boxes, they match up with what I hear other autistic people say about their own: these interests have been loyal companions to me for years (or even decades) and I still love researching them and reading about them for hours while I do not feel that level of passion about things outside of these topics. I want to know all there is to know about them and I love going over the facts I already know. I incorporate these interests into my daily life (by writing about them and collecting things related to them), I seek them out in the media I consume (books, movies etc.) and while I don’t necessarily enjoy most social interactions in real life, I will happily talk your ears off about these topics. My brother often jokes that he never needs to ask me what I’m doing, because at any given time, no matter how impractical, the answer is most likely the same: reading articles about one of these three topics.

And yet, with all this being said: I feel like my special interests aren’t autistic enough. 

That’s a deeply irrational fear and I am aware of that. It’s not like I’m being paid to Perform An Autism™️, I’m just trying to live the way that feels natural for my brain. So it shouldn’t really matter if other people think I’m just being pretentious about having a regular old hobby… so what if they do! It wouldn’t change the way my brain works. It also wouldn’t change anything about the fact that categorizing these three topics as my special interests helps me make sense of my feelings about them. It helps me feel like they’re a valuable trait that makes me me, rather than some shameful obsession I should grow out of already. 

And yet, that doubt creeps in. So much so that I’m just realizing I wrote a whole blog post about my special interests without actually naming them! Let’s do that here. They are „Mental health and wellbeing in the lgbt+ community“, „sun safety“ and „Stray Kids (K-Pop group)“. 

A part of me now imagines you rolling your eyes collectively. „Yeah, Oliver, so you’re gay and mentally ill, don’t like to get sunburned, and are in a fandom. Big deal. None of these are autistic special interests. Heck, these barely qualify as interests.“ You are probably not actually thinking any of that. People are rarely as mean as we are to ourselves in our own heads. 

I guess I just feel like they’re not really… measurable enough to count as special interests. It should be something like trains or cars or maybe fish, something where you could memorize hundreds of different kinds of something. Something technical, something where my knowledge on it could be tested and graded. Who is testing these things? I don’t know and somehow I still feel like I’m failing the test. 

I do not have some powerful ending statement here. But I want to tell you what I tell myself: life doesn’t come with scorecards. I think that goes beyond being interested in the right things or being autistic the right way, it goes for everything. You’re not earning points for existing the „right“ way. There isn’t one right way. 

The right way for you is whatever fills you with joy. And joy isn’t measurable. My special interests might not fit the „can name hundreds of train models“ stereotype - but they fit me. They shape me, comfort me, stay by my side, like loyal companions. 

And maybe that’s enough. 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad 

[esmedelacroix]

01 - Details

synopsis ! he’s an American football player by day and a passionate mathematician by night. She’s a well-rounded historian and writer who couldn’t evaluate a derivative to save her life. They lived in two different worlds but shared the same study room.

previous chapter | series masterlist

cw ! no use of y/n, y/n is _____, fluff, slow burn, college au, ooc sukuna, f!reader, child abuse/neglect, alcohol abuse, suggestive

fic radio ! Crybaby by SZA

Ohio State University, Autumn of Senior Year

To say that you didn't change would be an understatement. You felt too much guilt when you got to school. So at college, you were the same straight-A, (seemingly)perfect girl. You were the complete opposite of the people in your friend group. Then again, Shoko and Satoru were business majors; what were they doing in class anyway?

Suguru was the only one who shared your struggles to an extent as a philosophy major. Even so, he didn't care about his grades as much as you did yours. During your entire college experience, you didn't go to a single party. It was always extra studying for you. But you weren't a complete troglodyte. You went out to eat with your friends—occasionally.

They also had a habit of breaking into your dorm and closing your books and laptop, forcing the hangouts. You couldn't risk that happening because you were preparing to wow your professors with your knowledge as an Ancient History and Classics major. Being your extra self, you also double majored in English and already wanted to get a head start on your writing assignments.

You went where you knew they couldn't find you. The library at the least popular end of campus was where all the try-hards, like yourself, studied. The library was busy, of course, and there was one more study room left, so you signed your name in the time slot and snagged the last room. You had documents strewn on the table with your laptop open, playing the classical piece you needed to analyze on repeat.

After about 30 minutes of complete peace and productivity. You turned your head towards the clear glass of the study room to see a scary man standing at the door. Just staring. At you.

That man was Ryomen Sukuna. The charismatic campus heartthrob and stereotypical quarterback of the football. He was also the school's resident airhead along with his partner in crime, Toji Fushiguro. You had heard rumors about the numerous women seen leaving his room and the alleged Eiffel Towers he partook in with Toji. It didn't help that he was in the same frat as Satoru. The sole reason why you never visited him and Suguru. But what the hell was he doing here?

You look around warily before getting up and opening the door. “Um . . . Can I help you?” you questioned.

“Let’s share this room.”

“I have it signed out for this time though. I wrote my name on the sign-up sheet,” you reasoned.

“Doesn’t matter. The librarians like me so they won’t mind and I see you’re not using your whiteboard. ‘S all I need,” he sighed rubbing the back of his neck tiredly.

“Okay,” you hesitatantly agreed, stepping aside for him to walk in.

You stayed silent as you felt him tower over you. He barely squeezed past the small space you left him to enter. The smell he left was a combination of musk, oud, cedar, and amber. He smelled like a warm home with a cozy fire crackling. As much as you hated to admit it, just like every other girl on earth, you were weak for Ryomen Sukuna. The way his pecs and muscular back poked out of his shirt like mountains emerging from the fog had you aching for him in a way that made you feel ashamed.

His light pink tufts of hair looked so soft and his jaw oh so sharp. You could see a plethora of tattoos adorning his arms. Your eyes followed them as they led into his shirt. Part of you wondered just how much of his body was tatted.

If you squinted you could see his abs peek through the fabric of his white t-shirt. He was so much taller and bigger than you. You felt dominated and you hadn’t even exchanged many words.

You watched the muscles in his forearms flex as he uncapped the pink marker you had on the table and jotted down problems.

You then realized that you hadn't moved from where you were before because you were staring. Pulling yourself from his trance, you closed that door and took your seat. You'd occasionally look up from the fifteen-page essay you were writing and see that Sukuna had written the most complicated math problem you had ever seen in small-print, neat handwriting. The way he handled and solved the problem was so organized you almost felt like you understood it.

You looked down at your hand written notes and annotation riddled documents. Your fatal flaw was your illegible handwriting. It was practically hieroglyphics to everyone but you.

After twenty minutes, Sukuna finished his problem that practically covered the whole board and took a brain break sitting across from you. "What's with the music?" he asked.

"I'm analyzing it for a class. Not a fan?" you replied, eyes still glued to your laptop as you typed.

"No, I like Hymn to Vena. It's one of Gustav Holst's best pieces," he admitted.

"You know classical music?" you questioned in shock finally looking up at him. You met his piercing wine-colored eyes.

"Well I'm not completely braindead yet," he shrugged.

"I didn't know you were so historically seasoned and . . . mathematically inclined," you admitted, gesturing towards the solved complex equation on the board.

"Ah, that's nothing. I'm actually in your Intro to Classical Music class so I’m doing the same paper.”

"Wait. Really?"

"Yeah, I just sit in the back and you sit in the front," he smirked.

"First of all, there is nothing wrong with sitting in the front. Secondly, I had no idea you were in my class. I'm the worst," you smiled apologetically.

"You're good. I can't write for shit so I haven't even started the paper," Sukuna admitted leaning back in his chair and resting his large hands behind his head.

"It's due next week, Sukuna!" you exclaimed in disbelief. He noted the way your nose wrinkled when you cringed. And the way you looked away when you tried not to laugh at his jokes.

"It's no biggie. I'll just pay a writing tutor to do it for me," he said, getting up and grabbing a teal EXPO marker from your pencil pouch. This guy is too comfortable.

"I'm a writing tutor," you revealed with an unimpressed look.

"Well, then you just made my life a whole lot easier. Can you write my essay about Pas de Deux for me?" he questioned.

"No, Sukuna! I'm not writing your essay for you. You didn't even say please. I could tutor you but that's about it," you offered.

"C'mon let's work something out here," he bargained.

"What could you possibly offer me?" you quite condescendingly challenged.

"Well, I know that the only class you're not the top in is our Advanced Multi-variable Calculus class," he smugly stated.

"And how would you know that smarty-pants?” you retorted. Our? He's in that class too?

"'Cause I am, you ding-dong," he chuckled. Ryomen Sukuna is at the top of our math class? I thought people were lying when they said he was a math major!

"Okay so you want us to tutor each other?" you questioned.

"I was thinking more of a 'do each other's work' arrangement," Sukuna reasoned, he had a stupid smirk plastered on his stupid perfect lips. He quirked one of his beautiful perfect brows. It had a scar across it that you found very attractive for whatever reason. He's totally putting the moves on me, you thought.

"No."

"Okay, how about I teach you the math, you write my essay?"

"No."

"Okay . . . You just write my essay and I do your math work and get you into the Pi Kappa Alpha[fraternity name] parties? Final offer," he proposed.

"I think you're mistaken, Sukuna. I do not go to parties. I do not break the academic integrity rules put in place by the university, and I would much rather get 70s on my math tests than ever get my work done by someone else," you snapped. He didn't want to admit it, but he was impressed by your ability to talk back to him. He had never been told off like that.

"Oh, fine. We can tutor each other," he sighed rolling his eyes.

"Good," you smiled. He shook his head in disbelief and wrote down an even more complex problem on the board and began solving it occasionally grumbling under his breath when the two of you met eyes. He wasn't actually annoyed. In fact, he was intrigued. He had waited this long to interact with you and now he didn't want to stop.

"You're a real piece of work _____," he teased, as the time slot for the room finally ran out.

"Am I Sukuna? Or am I just the first woman to say no to you?" you quipped.

He smiled and shrugged, "Somethin' like that." You hated to admit it but, he had a really cute smile. His resting face made him look like he could kill everything in sight. His smile softened his facial features. It wasn't that fake cocky smile he put on to seem hot or be a tease. It was a real genuine smile. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. Ugh, why do I need to be like all the other girls that pine for him?

The two of you left the room after packing all your stuff. You gave Sukuna your number and email on a sticky note. "Text me when you want to study again. Sorry about my handwriting by the way," you apologized sheepishly.

"What do you mean? I can read it just fine," he questioned.

Wow, he might be the only one on the planet, you thought as the two of you left the library side by side.

"You don't need to lie, Sukuna," you joked.

"Just Ryo is fine," he corrected.

"Okay Ryomen," you smiled.

He rolled his eyes playfully at you saying his full name instead. Internally he knew: he liked the way you disobeyed him. He found the way you smiled to yourself trying not to laugh after making a joke cute.

It was all in the details. The way you sat in the front of the class every day with a notebook out. The way you impressively scribbled notes while still looking at the board.

He memorized the way you chewed on your pen and bounced your leg whenever you did an exam. The way you always participated. Staying after to help the professor clean up. Going to office hours. You were friendly and bantering with all your teachers. But somehow in an effortless charismatic way and not a ‘pick me’ way.

You didn't know, but he stared holes into your back in every single class. He was amused just staring at your back. Though he knew you wouldn't be there he looked for you in the large sea of people in the stadium. He watched you succeed and rise to the challenge. Listening in on your musical analysis in class he was mesmerized. He just wanted to wander through your mind. Maybe then he could be just as great as you.

In his short interaction with you, he made a realization. You weren't the preppy, bubbly, sweet girl he made you up to be in his mind. You were kind of a bitch. In the hottest way possible. That made you all the better. He needed more and more of you.

. . .

-> next part

@minasuniverse @not-a-glad-gladiator @love-me-satoru @sukunawhores @emoedgylord @domainofmarie @sadrna @lazylunarlover @tamishadawn @boudoirbae @river-vixenn @bitchyfestivalbouquet @elizabeth-von-winken-universe @clp-84 @emochosoluvr @yoongithebean @linaaeatsfamilies @magalimachete @chubbydumplingbarnes @katsukiseyebrows

comment to be added to the taglist !

[yuurivoice]

lowkey, I do see their point about the power dynamic. Just because there hasn't been abuse of power, doesn't mean that the concern isn't valid, and that's why there's rules against that within the workplace! BUT I feel like both shattered and bittersweet have a bunch of instances in them where, if in real life, if I was a friend of the Listener and they told me some of these things Id be like 'gurl??'

For example, when boo goes alone up to a secluded camping spot to talk to a man they just met that very obviously wasn't happy with their presence upon first meeting, and looks like he could bench press 3 of alphonse.. id be like 'What happened to stranger danger?' (love Seth, but the stranger danger assemblies from elementary school really do stick lmao)

The mysterious CEO trope is very obviously a sexual fantasy, and I think we can all agree that it would not, and really should not fly in the real world, but this IS a fictional story that was originally built off of these tropes. And as far as I'm aware we're all adults here so, you do you boo! either way, I'm sure Rook could start their own thing with the talent they have any ways. Auron is more of a sad wet cat at this point, which is strangely fitting for a seemingly cold hearted crime boss lol

I think a larger point that I think goes well beyond our little corner of the internet is that we gotta trust folks to both understand the givens like "don't try this at home" and that ultimately you're either going to suspend your disbelief and play with the Legos you're given or be responsible with what you consume.

Also the difference between critiquing the art cs critiquing the individual characters is probably also a point to make. While Auron's choices are...not great, I think him being so desperate to experience the normalcy he missed out on be it with Charlie or Rook is interesting! I think feeling like Auron sucks or is a complicated, conflicted mess is probably a good thing.

And ultimately I think it's my job to create interesting scenarios and characters, and trust that folks realize the point isn't "oh this should happen and is good" or is co-signed and encouraged etc. but I also think if you peek past the first layers you'll find in most cases that what we're working with would likely lead to some positive moral conclusions regardless.

That's the fun part about fiction, we tell stories not in the sense that they should be 1:1 depictions of reality, but because we can exaggerate to extremes outside of the norm in order to magnify certain aspects of our human experiences that we want to dive deeper into.

Which sounds way too deep for a guy who voices pretty little lads, but you get my point.

I do try to be responsible with the self insert nature of things, because there's a lot of trust involved when someone gives you the keys to their proverbial car. But for cases such as "skewed power dynamic relationship" while i do try to avoid the potholes i personally don't love or feel comfortable with portraying, it is also like...a big neon sign you see in the first 2 minutes of experiencing the story so we have that unspoken agreement that like...yep that's what we're dealing with so if you are lactose intolerant this might not be the dairy farm you want to enter. 😂

That's why I'm so adamant about Boo being an open ended listener for example, they've been that way for so long it almost feels unfair to go AND THEN THEIR FAMILY HISTORY MATTERS, OR THEIR EVIL TWIN APPEARS, OR...etc. because you probably should have had clues about that 5 years ago at the introduction of the characters.

Anywho, that's all the yapping I've got in me, I've somehow managed to get even more sick dealing with my vertigo shit. 😵‍💫 So I hope this was all somewhat coherent. Thanks for reading. 💖