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[snail-day]

Second Male Lead Syndrome

Sum: Maybe you don't got this nerdjo!

Nerd! Gojo x Reader x FWB! Geto

Previous // Next Part // Masterlist

WC: 2.4k

TW: Angst, Yearning, Anxiety, love triangle-ish, alcohol references.

a/n: A bit short...but I promise the next one will be longer and fluffy <3

Second Male Lead Syndrome — a tragic but familiar condition. Occurs when the audience falls hopelessly in love with the second male lead. When he's sweet and thoughtful, perhaps a little bit stupid, and still doesn’t get the girl. Not because he didn’t try hard enough. But because he never stood a chance.

Satoru had always laughed at those characters. Thought why waste all that time on a girl who didn’t have their eyes set on you. It would never work out, plenty of fish in the sea, etc.  

Until now.

When the room is dim. Soft, warm lighting flickers against the walls. The playlist he curated for you hums softly in the background, some gentle acoustic loop he’d replayed twenty times to ensure the instrumentals didn’t overpower the mood, mostly to ensure he could still hear your voice. The dice scattered like different colored fallen stars across the table, and everyone is still buzzing from the final boss fight. The victory. And the drinks.

And you’re giggling.

But not at him. Not like how he imagined tonight would go. 

You’re pressed just a little too close to Suguru, your shoulder brushing his. Your knees angled towards his. The sound of your laugh, light and tipsy, spills like wine from your lips as Suguru leans in - voice low, mouth grazing the shell of your ear as he murmurs something only you get to hear. Something that makes you smile like that, he hung the stars. Soft. Genuine.

And how your body leans into his like it’s instinct. Like he's the male lead in your fairy tale.

Satoru feels the punch to the gut. The anxiety and thoughts spiraling.

Perhaps Satoru had poured your drinks a little too strong. Just enough for you to laugh at Suguru’s jokes without overthinking them. So much that you don’t seem to notice how Satoru hasn’t said anything in a while, since the campaign ended. How his throat’s been dry since he saw Suguru press his hand to the small of your back.

That’s fine. He doesn’t drink. He wanted you to have fun. To loosen up. To look at him the way you’re looking at Suguru now - with stars in your eyes, a lazy smile on your lips hanging onto every little word he speaks. 

When Suguru offers to take you home, Satoru nods too quickly. A weird hiccup of a smile jerks across his face. He can’t even stop himself from asking, “Oh - wait, do you two… know each other?”

You blink. Suguru answers first. “Nope. First time meeting tonight.” His voice is light. Easy. Full of lies.

Then why does it feel like you’ve done this a dozen times?

His broad, firm hand rests on your lower waist, as if it’s the normal placement. His lips brush your ear, and you laugh and Satoru just stands there, watching it all happen like some pitiful side character in the background of a romance anime.

Cool. Awesome. Great. Everything is fine. Everything is wonderful. Amazing actually. 

When he leans in to hug you goodbye, you hesitate. Something breaks in his chest. 

Just for a second. But he feels it. The stiffness in your spine. The polite curve of your arms. The awkward way you both move in the same direction and fumble for an angle. It ends up being a weird, lopsided side hug. Like coworkers. Or strangers who once made small talk in a group chat.

Still, your cheek brushes his chest. And his heart, traitorous and loud, slams against his ribs like it’s trying to get to you. He can’t help it. You’ve captured him, maybe without even knowing it.

He remembers earlier. Just the two of you in the kitchen.

You’d gone to grab more cups. He followed. Said something about helping. Maybe even meant it, but mostly, he just wanted to be near you.

And then you turned. Bumped into him with a soft, surprised “oh!” - the rim of the stacked cups hitting his chest, your body brushing his in a way that sent a spark straight through him. His baby blues went wide, snowy lashes fluttering, before his lips moved into a crooked smile as you looked up at him.

And fuck.

The overhead light hit your features just right, soft eyes sparkling, lips parted, cheeks flushed from laughing in the other room. He could see the curve of your throat, the way your breath caught just slightly from the impact, and he froze. His heart stuttered. Stumbled. Something in his chest bloomed. Warm. Stupid, maybe even a little hopeless.

His pale cheeks flushed, a soft red hue blooming across skin that rarely saw the sun. Embarrassment? Or awe, or maybe just the raw gravity of you standing this close? His mouth parted, but no sound came. Not a joke. Not a clever line. Just this aching silence as he tried to remember how to breathe.

He should’ve stepped back.

But god, you were so close. And you were looking at him like you saw him, just for a second. Like maybe you somehow knew how badly he wanted to lift a hand and cradle your face, just to see if you’d lean into it. To see if you’d soften into his touch.

His fingers twitched at his side. He didn’t touch you. Didn’t dare. What if it made you uncomfortable? Instead, he just stood there, letting himself feel it. The burn in his chest. The ache in his spine from holding himself still. The desperate, idiotic hope that you might say something to break the tension. That this moment could mean something.

Instead, he laughed. A little loud. A bit awkward.

“Oops, sorry,” he said, a bit winded, like you hadn’t just knocked the breath out of his lungs.

And you, god, you just smiled. Brushed past him like nothing had happened, cups hugged to your chest, already back in the living room.

He stayed there. Alone. Staring at the space where you’d been. Swallowed hard and wiped his sweaty palms against his pants like that might make the heat in his body disappear. Moving to slowly fan himself.

He’s been replaying that moment ever since, chest tight, fingers aching, wondering if you even noticed how hard he was trying not to touch you.

You say, “thank you.” Pulling him back from his thoughts. Smile at him, a little flushed, a little tipsy. Your voice soft, barely there, and it hits him harder than anything. Something about it feels... personal. Like you're sharing a moment with him, even if it's fleeting. A moment he plans of selfishly keeping for himself.

He watches you go, watches Suguru’s hand fall to your lower back, slipping a little lower to the curve of your bottom when you think no one’s looking.

Satoru’s heart drops, and it feels like it’s stuck somewhere in his throat, aching to escape. He tries to look away, tries to force himself to move, but he can’t stop watching. He’s breaking, and he knows it.

If it were him…

If it were him, he would be so careful with you. He would be the one bringing you to his guest room, making sure you were comfortable, asking if you needed anything. He would keep his distance, respect it, because you’re tipsy, and you shouldn’t make any decisions right now, but damn it, if he had just a little more time with you... He’d do it right. He wouldn’t rush, wouldn’t make you feel anything you didn’t want to feel. He’d just be there.

Imagining it for a second: You on the plush bed. Him nearby in the armchair, a safe distance but close enough that he could feel the warmth of your presence. He could put on a movie, something silly and light. Keep it all casual. But he would be there, just for you.

And maybe you’d look at him like you did Suguru. Maybe you’d laugh with him the way you laughed with Suguru. But maybe... maybe not. Maybe he’s just fooling himself.

Satoru shakes his head, white hair tumbling, breath shaky. He tries to laugh at his own thoughts. But it’s not funny. It hurts, this stupid ache in his chest that he can’t shake. He can't help the sting in his pretty baby blues.

Suguru glances back at him as you both walk down the hall, with a smile that seems to border smug and something else, like he knows something Satoru doesn’t. Acting like he’s already won the girl. Satoru can't help but wave at him. To call out, get home safe!

A laugh escapes under his breath, a dry, bitter sound. Just shut up, Satoru. But it’s like his mind won’t let him stop. It just keeps playing the same damn scene over and over.

He closes the door quietly, pressing his back against it. Lets out a shaky breath as he sinks down to the cold floor, heart still hammering in his chest, and he wonders if you even noticed him at all tonight.

Of course, you didn’t. You barely know him. You might never look at him that way.

But god, he wishes you would. Just once.

Second Male Lead Syndrome, Yeah.

Yeah, that tracks.

Because you were never going to pick the weird, twitchy nerd who overplans events like this and builds NPC backstories with tragic romances just to feel something. You were never going to pick the guy who practices your character intro alone in his room fifteen times, rehearsing the words in front of a mirror, trying to make it sound casual. Trying to sound like someone who knows what they’re doing. The guy who lit a candle because a Reddit post said vanilla makes people feel comforted, and for a second, he thought it might work. Might make you feel a little more at home.

You were always going to pick the one with the guitar. The one with the voice like honey, deep and effortless, who doesn’t have to try. The one whose touch doesn’t tremble when it’s on your arm, whose hands know exactly where to go without hesitation. The one who stands next to you with a calm that makes it look easy.

Satoru, on the other hand, is all scrambled signals. His heart races whenever you look his way, his mind spirals when he hears your laugh, and yet he can’t seem to say anything that makes sense. All he’s good for is stuttering through words, trying to look cool but always coming across as the awkward guy who thinks too much about the wrong things. His white hair falls into his face, messy strands he constantly pushes out of his eyes with the back of his hand, the motion becoming so habitual now as he feels the back of his hand become damp. His glasses slipping down his nose even though he keeps adjusting them, his thumb swiping over the frames in vain. A perfect image of someone who can never quite get it together.

And his heart? God, his heart is still pounding so hard that it’s all he can hear. Every thump is a reminder that he’s falling for someone who will never fall for him.

Why did nobody warn him this could happen?

Warn that his heart will ache in a place he can’t quite reach.

But it's fine. You both were just simply not meant to be. That's how life works, right?

He starts cleaning up, clumsily, awkwardly, trying to do anything to distract himself from the growing ache in his chest. He grabs the dice first, tossing them a little too forcefully into the velvet bag, the clattering sound loud against the quiet. Then the maps, scrunched and crumpled slightly from too many fingers running over them in nervous gestures. Finally, the snack pile looking more like a sad, squashed dragon than something worthy of a group of excited players. It wasn't worthy for someone like you.

He tries not to think about Suguru’s lack of goodbye. Or the way you didn’t look back when you left. The way your smile seemed to fade the moment you turned away from him. He tries, really tries, but his brain keeps betraying him, whispering that you're already slipping further away.

I just wanted to get to know you.

But no matter how hard he tries to focus on folding the papers, stacking the snacks, all he can hear is the quiet thrum of his own voice whispering in his mind:

I was never the main character, was I?

And it hurts, the pull of his heartbeat, the way it feels like he's running in place while you’re already walking away. Like he’s standing still in a world that keeps turning without him.

So for the first time in a long, long while, after the last chip crumb was swept and the candles were blown out, he didn’t stay up to play League. He didn’t refresh Reddit - not even the post he made about you, about how to win the girl. Didn’t pace around the living room rerunning conversations he wished had gone differently.

Instead, he grabbed his worn white teddy, the one no one knows about, the one he keeps tucked behind his pillows, and curled up in a ball on the far side of his bed. No Twitch stream humming in the background. No playlist lulling him into false peace.

Just silence. And stillness.

And somehow, for the first time in weeks, Satoru fell asleep. Not the jittery kind of rest he was used to, where his thoughts wouldn’t stop spiraling, but real sleep. Deep, heavy, and warm.

He didn’t even hear the chime of your message:

Got home safe! Thank you for today <3 I actually… have had a change of plans for Saturday and I was wondering if we could play a game together? Or we can go outside too! Touch grass as the kids say! :) Let me know! Goodnight Toru

Your name lights up his screen. The little heart. The nickname. The open door.

But he’s already dreaming.

Wrapped around a teddy bear and too heartbroken to know that maybe he was the main character after all.

tag list: @just-pure-trash, @7haze, @nevvynev, @linaaeatsfamilies, @altgojo, @beereadzzz, @bludwrite, @amajikisupremacy, @arabellasolstice, @ky0mybeloved, @aldebrana, @caught-the-feels, @pyruvic, @sukunaspillow, @sbicybb, @vamqyx, @dija200, @g3n3v13v33, @bakarinnie

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[velvetkisscs]

party 4 u, part of you knew

synopsis: you were an outcast, sunghoon was not. he was your neighbour, your childhood best friend, your first love. sunghoon didn't know that. on the last day of senior high, you decided to face your fears; go to the party and tell him how you feel. part of you knew that things might not end the way you want it to. still, you went.

"i shouldn't have gone to this party 4 u."

wc: 5.2k pairing: popular!sunghoon x fem!reader contains: angst (i tried), childhood best friends, secret crush, first love heartbreak, lack of communication, time apart, mentions of random characters, unexpected reunion, right person- wrong time, use of song lyrics, yn is kinda sad, etc. (let me know if i missed any) a/n: this story was heavily inspired by the "party 4 u" takes on tiktok. they've been flooding my fyp lately. these 2 tiktoks: [1] & [2] specifically. i strictly only listened to party 4 u - charlie xcx while making this.

this story is dedicated to my best babes, @sunoostripletriple <3 go give her a hug rn

i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i had fun writing it! i haven't written anything in a while, so idk if it gives what’s supposed to be gave? or however that saying goes. i do hope that it meets your expectations.

likes, comments & reblogs are appreciated <3

might contain grammatical errors as english is not my first language. not proofread.

you don’t belong here.

not in this dress and definitely not in this moment. but you do it anyway– sliding on the dress you picked– slowly, shakily. you’ve never been to a party before, nor were you ever invited. unsure whether the outfit you picked is too formal, you throw on your brother’s oversized jacket. the mirror reflects someone unfamiliar. perhaps a different version of yourself.

someone prettier. someone braver.

someone even sunghoon might look at. your room is littered with your own clothes, from your bed to the floor. you’ve been mulling over skipping the party for the nth time, uncertain whether this is the right choice. you can just wipe off your makeup, change into your (sunghoon’s) hoodie, crawl into the bed, and bury yourself under your sheets. pretend that the party doesn’t exist, that it’s just a normal night of you staying in.

but your hair is already lightly curled, you’ve done your makeup twice, and you finally convinced your mom to let you borrow one of her necklace after begging for what felt like an hour. you can’t really turn back now.

you hear a knock on the door. it’s your brother, heeseung.

“are you still coming?” he asks.

“i’m almost done.” you lied.

“i’ll wait for you outside.”

it’s too late. you really have to go. for the last time, you stand in front of your vanity mirror, rehearsing what to say to him.

“hey sunghoon. you look good tonight. i mean you always do.” you stutter over your words

“i’ve been wanting to tell you something. i like you. i always have. i think i might be in love with you.”

no. you thought that it’s too cheesy. it’s too much.

over the years, you’ve created different versions of this moment. what words to use, the tone of your voice, when the right time is, and even the outcome. you thought about how his eyes turn into crescent moons, the way his vampire-like fangs show up whenever he genuinely laughs, if he would tell you he feels the same, how you would feel when he pulls you in for a hug while apologizing for not realizing his feelings, and yours sooner. that maybe, you were always the one. 

he’s always been the only one.

but you know reality is never that kind. as soon as you meet his eyes, you fail to think of the proper words, let alone form a sentence that truly conveys your feelings. 

before you could even change your mind, your phone buzzes. heeseung is getting impatient waiting for you. so you leave.

it’s the last day of senior high. you two are going to different colleges. this is your only shot. tonight is your only chance. if things go south, if he ends up looking at you like a stranger– someone he hadn't spend his whole childhood and adolescent years with– you’ll have months, maybe even years of time and distance to forget.

you tell yourself that you’re not doing this for him, convinced that you’re doing this for yourself. that once you get the words out, once you let go of everything that’s been burning inside you, you’ll be free. 

but deep down, a part of you knew.

you’re going to this party for him, not for you.

the party is already in full swing when you arrived. the music is loud, the floor thumping as tangled bodies move in rhythm. not used to this kind of space, you stand still. you pretend to check an important notification from your phone, pretend to be waiting for someone. you’re stalling and you’re not sure what for. maybe for the annoying voice in your head to shut up and let you breathe. or to find the courage to walk up to sunghoon, finally telling him what you’ve been wanting to say.

this party felt foreign. people wear their confidence like perfume. compared to them, you’re a question mark left unanswered. your clothes felt too snug, shoes an inch too high, and your heart definitely too loud. you try to weave through the blur of entwined bodies, scanning the room for that one specific person.

then you see him.

sunghoon.

it didn’t take you long to find him. he’s leaning against the kitchen counter with a red cup in one hand, laughing at whatever jay and jake said. his v-neck shirt clung to his body, adorned with a sleek leather jacket. he drinks from the red cup, his side profile showing off his sharp jawline and his perfectly angled nose. 

his smile is genuine. familiar. unlike the room you’re both in. the smile you used to see everyday, back when he was still yours— well, not yours— but back when he was still closer. back when he’d throw small rocks to your window, asking if you’d want to go out for ice cream. back when you lost your grandpa and he invited you for a movie night in his room. blanket forts and popcorn, all set up by him. back when he used to call you “peach” because you once told him peaches were your favourite fruit, and that you always smell like one. he never forgot.

back when you were each other’s only friend.

back when you still mattered.

sunghoon is always the center of attention. it’s like a scene carved out of a coming of age film. he’s being bathed in the golden glow of overhead lights, the music slowing down. he’s the main character, and you’re just a mere extra passing through. he tilts his head back from laughter, and you see people form a semi-circle around him, orbiting him like planets to a sun. he’s the sun and you’re a rock. you can’t look away even if you tried.

you want to walk up to him. say what you’ve been wanting to say. 

anything. 

something. 

your hands tremble slightly at your sides. your fingers finding comfort at the hem of your dress, trying to anchor yourself.

as you take a step forward, she walks in.

eunji.

beautiful eunji with her perfect everything. her presence alone draws everyone’s attention. she makes a beeline to sunghoon like she’s done it over a thousand times. she knows she belongs by his side. you watch for sunghoon’s reaction, freezing for a second when he sees her. for a brief moment, something unreadable flashes in his eyes. is it nervousness? confusion? that the most popular girl in the school is walking towards him? 

from where you stand, you see eunji wrap her arms around his neck. then she goes for it, leaning in to kiss him.

and to your demise, he lets her.

your breath hitches. your chest tightens. you stand still, feet glued to the ground, unable to move or look away.

the noise of the party fades into the background, as if the person in charge of your life suddenly turned the volume of the whole world down. everything that was once so loud– the music, the chatter– is now barely a whisper. your legs won’t move, you feel stuck, like a statue that can see and feel everything.

in that moment, a hollow feeling blooms in your chest. you feel utterly alone in a room full of people. although surrounded with noise and laughter, you felt so small, so invisible.

your throat burns, a big lump forming. your eyes start to sting. you try so hard to do everything to ground yourself, you find your nails digging into your palm. you can’t cry now. not here and definitely not in front of everyone.

tragically for you– as if the universe is playing a joke– your eyes blur. mascara coated lashes getting damp with the tears you so badly want to hold back. and then–

“yn!” heeseung’s voice cuts through all the noise. and for once, you were thankful for your brother.

you hurriedly wipe your tears away, quickly turning towards heeseung. you put on a false front, smiling at him as if nothing is wrong.

on the opposite side of the room, sunghoon hears your name, his head snaps in your direction. he turns around, moving away from eunji, eyes scanning the crowd like he’s searching for something– someone.

you.

but you’re gone. you walked away.

the ride home is silent. you insisted that heeseung stays, that you feel lightheaded from the unfamiliar setting. that it’s best you go home. he buys it.

you look out to the window, watching the blurry headlights and streetlights pass like ghosts. the driver wondering why the party ended so early, so soon. you offer a smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. the driver understood and doesn’t say a word afterwards. you were thankful for that.

your phone buzzes. it was a message from him. 

from sunghoon.

[sunghoon 🤍 10:29] hey, did you attend the party? i thought i saw you but i wasn’t sure.

you stare at the message, then his contact name. but you don’t answer. what will you even tell him? that you were there? that you watched him kiss someone?

that you’ve been in love with him since he hugged you under that blanket fort?

you open the reply box, then close it. but you open it again, typing out a “yeah, i was there.” but you erase it and you try again. “i was gonna say hi..” you delete it. trying to even out your breathing. trying to make the lump in your throat go away, the ache in you heart shrink, disappear. to pretend that it doesn’t matter. that it doesn’t hurt.

but it does.

in the end, you don’t reply. rather, you think to yourself. answering his message in your mind.

“party on, you party on.”

deleting his message, then his contact.

slowly deleting memories of him.

you convince your parents to let you move out to the city. telling them that it’s the best course of action. that it will help you get familiar with your surroundings once college rolls in.

 you leave town a week after graduation.

no texts. no goodbyes.

sunghoon messages you a few more times that summer. random things; things you two used to talk about. harmless things like “did you hear about the new ice cream place that opened up?” or a “come join us at the old arcade!”

you don’t respond.

you read them all. every word, repeatedly. but you let them sit there like messages from an unknown number. a stranger. a part of you hoped he’d try harder. that he’d make the effort to find you. ask you what’s wrong and give you a hug that will heal the very scar he stabbed into your heart.

but he doesn’t. somehow that hurts more than the kiss did.

you stop making blanket forts. stop eating peaches, stop using peach scented body wash. you stop checking his social media. all of the photos you had with him– from elementary to senior high– deleted. except one. a photo taken the summer before senior year. it’s hidden behind a locked album. a picture taken by your own brother, heeseung. you and sunghoon sitting on a swing, backs facing against the screen, ice cream in one hand, the sky a mixed of orange and pink hues, your gaze towards him. 

back then you were already wishing for something.

college is your clean slate. a mix of dorm rooms, group projects, lectures, expensive coffee, and new faces. you keep to yourself, studying every chance you get. you make friends, but not real ones. you don’t curl your hair. you store that necklace away. you don’t go to parties.

you turn yourself into a version that is easier to protect, invisible by choice.

time passes. slowly– painfully at first– you healed.

on your second year of college you meet someone. his name is kaito. he’s good to you. he has the kind of laugh that makes you feel fuzzy inside, hands that always know how to interlace with yours. he doesn’t make your heart race. but maybe, that’s not a bad thing. because hearts that race can easily break. a steady heart endures.

everyday he tells you he loves you. it’s the first thing that leaves his mouth in the morning and the last thing he utters before the day ends. you smile and say it back. and for a good while, you believe it. 

when kaito proposes it’s soft, pure. simple. a walk on the beach after a fancy dinner. he gets on one knee holding out a small velvety box, a ring tucked inside. it’s dainty, it’s precious.

somehow you hesitate. just for a moment. except you don’t know why. 

then you say yes.

not because you were certain. but because you want to be.

your parents are thrilled, his family adored you. everything is perfect. even you start to believe it. that love doesn’t have to be filled with sparks. that it didn’t have to be extraordinary. 

for once, you believe that the hole in your heart is patched up. that sunghoon is just a distant memory you learn to live with.

but memories always have a way of returning.

it starts slow.

a scent, faint and familiar. the kind that smells like cold summer nights and someone’s sweater draped over your shoulders. you catch it on a stranger passing by the grocery aisles. your heart stutters, it knows. for a brief moment, you close your eyes. it’s not kaito. not the steady love you said yes to.

it’s someone else. sunghoon.

it’s been 7 years, you thought. he can’t be using the same cologne. but you know that scent anywhere. he wore it throughout junior and senior year after all. ever since heeseung got it for him for christmas.

you shake it off. it must be a coincidence. 

except it happens again.

you’re at your local café, the one you’ve been frequenting to for group projects and late night cramming. you’re sitting down in a corner table, your laptop open and half a pastry forgotten on your plate. the song plays faintly through the speakers– she needs him by her’s– an indie track that used to be on all of your playlists. the one sunghoon would tease you about before admitting he kind of liked the band too.

your hands hover above the keys. you stare out the window, watching people pass by. maybe the song will finish quicker if you don’t pay attention to it. but it stays. long enough to remind you of the memories. long enough for the lyrics to cling to your skin like his sweater once did.

and then, kaito.

your sweet fiancé. kaito comes home with a new bottle of body wash and other travelling necessities for his upcoming business trip. 

“i thought you’d like this one, babe.” he says, placing it onto the bathroom counter.

“it’s peach scented. you like fruity things, right?”

you do.

it’s the exact brand you used to have in your old childhood bathroom. the one sunghoon would always tease you about whenever he’s over to play with heeseung. saying “why do you smell like a juice box?”

you stopped buying it after the party.

but the world likes to play a joke on you. the same body wash sits innocently on your counter. like time is just a concept, that it’s not real. like years haven’t passed. everything you tried so hard to erase is coming back. uninvited.

then a letter addressed to you comes.

a small pink envelope in your mailbox. you almost miss it, wedged between bills and packages. inside is a wedding invitation. heeseung, your brother. he’s getting married.

the card is beautiful– soft lavender coloured, adorned with bold calligraphy, a picture of heeseung and his fiancé, information and the dress code. 

lee heeseung and im seo-ah invites you to celebrate their wedding saturday, june 19th, 5:00pm at serenity garden

you stare at it, contemplating. there’s no rsvp option. you have to go.

kaito can’t make it. he calls the night before, apologizing every chance he gets. apparently there’s an emergency in japan. something about the budget and the investors. he promises to make it up to you when he returns. you tell him it’s fine. that you can manage.

you arrive at the venue. you wear a simple, ankle length dress with layers, coloured in different shades of blue, and a small scarf that came along with it. the dress is shaped like a flower, quite fitting for the theme of the wedding. you look like a woman who’s moved on.

but inside, you’re still the same quiet girl, heart pacing.

the sky is bright and clear. a gentle breeze flutters through the air, carrying the faint scent of lilac and hydrangeas. the sun casts golden streaks over the flowers and the white line-covered chairs. 

everything feels like a scene from a movie– too perfect to be real. soft jazz plays in the background, fairy lights hang between tree branches. it’s romantic. beautiful in a way that makes your chest ache. 

because it reminds you of your younger self. 

the one who curled her hair in her childhood bedroom. the one that carefully brushed eyeshadow on her lids. the one who felt like she didn’t belong. you’re watching someone else’s life unfold– someone who belongs into this moment, this life, better than you do.

and then you see him.

standing tall by the entrance of the venue in a perfectly tailored tuxedo. his face breaks into the biggest grin when he spots you.

“yn!” he calls, kindly weaving through the guests to get to you.

your heart beats rapidly.

he sweeps you into a tight hug. a hug so warm, so real, so grounding. 

“can’t believe you, out of all people, are married. you look amazing!” you say, pulling back from your brother’s hug.

he shrugs. “you clean up okay yourself.”

then his wife appears– seo-ah. she exudes elegant grace, the kind of woman who makes you understand why your brother fell in love so hard.

seo-ah greets you with a sweet smile. then a hug. you can tell she’s extremely nervous. “i’ve heard so many things about you!”

“and i’ve heard so much about you!” you reply. “all good things, i swear.”

later, during the reception, your name is called for a speech.

your stomach flips. you weren’t prepared. you didn’t plan much. you didn’t think you’d be asked. but it only makes sense since you’re the sister of the groom. 

every eye in the room is on you. something that never happened before. your legs feel like they will give out the second you make your way to the small stage. but you do it anyway. you hold the mic with both hands.

“hi.” you begin, your voice shaking. “i’m heeseung’s younger sister. surprising right?” a few chuckles ripple through the crowd.

“i basically spent most of my life watching him be the loudest person in every room. the first person to finish a whole box of ramen in a week, and definitely the worse person to share a bathroom with.”

more laughter breaks the tension. you exhale and continue.

“but i can assure you that he’s the most loyal person i’ve ever known. and i’m not saying that because he’s my brother. i remember when my first pet hamster died, he stayed up with me all night. he even bought me the candies i liked with the very little allowance he had. when i failed my physics exam, he made sure to tutor me until i understood the gravity of the situation.”

you catch heeseung looking a little flustered and you smiled at him.

“when he met seo-ah, he changed. not in a bad way, but in a real way. he became someone who listened more, someone who laughed a little softer, but loved harder. louder. and it’s all because of you, seo-ah. you truly bring out the best in him. i will never trade you for anyone else, you’re my sister now. thank you for taking him off my back. and good luck dealing with that.” another wave of laughter erruupts.

you pause.

“here’s to new beginnings. to love. the kind that grows with you. and the kind that feels like coming home.”

applause and glasses clinking fills the room. you feel like you might float away from sheer relief. that attention is no longer directed at you, but to the newlyweds. you don’t notice the eyes that were once watching you. 

but what you didn’t see is how a pair of eyes never looked away. a pair of eyes that never left your frame ever since you stepped up to speak.

his fingers curl loosely around a champagne glass. his chest rising, then falling. as if he just learned how to breathe. except you don’t see it. the way his expression softens with every word that leaves your mouth. a sense of pride in his gaze whenever you made the crowd laugh. a smile threatening to tug at his lips. you don’t see any of it.

not yet.

descending down the steps, you finally start to breathe evenly. that’s when it happens–

your eyes meet.

everything stops.

the music, the laughter. the chatter, the clinking of glass. everything goes silent.

it feels like you’re seventeen again. standing in a crowded room, but somehow alone. every memory you once buried, bursts to the surface. seven years of silence. of forgetting, pretending. all coming out.

he’s wearing a charcoal grey suit that fits like it was made for him. he looks older, more refined. he’s no longer the boy you used to love, but a man. however, his eyes stayed the same. soft yet unwavering. 

your eyes start to sting, a lump forming in your throat. you want to run. you want to leave. you have to. you need to.

but he’s faster. “wait–yn–”

his hand gently wraps around your wrist. it’s not forceful, but enough to stop you from leaving. enough to say please.

you stop, not turning around. you can’t.

“i didn’t think you’d come,” he says behind you, voice soft, yet unsure. the way that makes your throat tighten. “i was hoping you did. but i didn’t know.”

then he sees it. the dainty ring around your finger. but he doesn’t say anything. instead, he lets go and asks “how have you been?”

you don’t answer right away. closing your eyes, trying to stabilize your breathing. you turn around, forcing yourself to look at him with a smile. it’s way harder than you thought it would be.

“i’ve been good.” you look down at your hand. “i’m engaged.” showing him the ring kaito gave you.

he swallows, hard. “congratulations! are you happy?” now he’s the one forcing a smile.

“i am. it’s easy, it’s stable.”

“i missed you, you know.” he says quietly, voice cracking. “for years, i didn’t know how to reach you. i texted you, but i assumed you didn’t want to be bothered.”

you don’t answer him. and as if he understood, he nods.

there’s so much silence. it’s heavy, full of everything you never said. eventually, you say goodbye to him. then you go over to heeseung and seo-ah, giving them the gift and telling them that the wedding was beautiful. you hug them and promised to invite them for lunch. you walk out, the same way you did 7 years ago.

but that night, you find yourself in your childhood bedroom, back where everything started. your phone buzzes. it’s an unknown number. but part of you know who it is.

[unknown 11:10 pm] i got your number from heeseung. can we meet up by the lake tomorrow. just to talk and catch up. there’s something need to tell you.

the lake hadn’t changed.

maybe the tress were taller. the path was overgrown, used. the rope of the swing had frayed from the years and weather. but the lake itself– the still, glassy surface reflecting the colors of the sky– look exactly the same. the same as the last time you were here. unmoving, serene, quietly watching as if it had been waiting for you all long. 

your heart is stuttering in your chest, and there he is.

sunghoon sitting on the swing, hands in his hoodie pocket, just the way he used to be. his silhouette is outlined by the pink and orange hue of the sunsent. and for a second, it’s like time never passed. like you’re still seventeen, hiding away from the rest of the world, with him. talking about your dreams, too big and too small to name.

he turns around when he hears you, tension in his jaw, his shoulders– but his eyes remain the same. soft. the kind reserved only in your memories. only for you.

“you came,” he says, voice quiet.

you nod, words unable to come out. the lump in your throat is already forming, threatening to knock the air out of your lungs. you didn’t think coming back here would be this hard. or maybe you did. you just hope you were stronger now.

he gestures towards the swing. “sit with me?”

for a second, you hesitate. but you walk closer, the grass moving beneath your feet. your fingers graze the rope, then the wood plank of the swing. you remember the summers you spent here, pushing each other back and forth as high as you can. laughter echoing between the trees. it was your place with him. a secret you both kept from the rest of the world. a place where everything felt a bit easier.

sunghoon sits on the other end of the swing. for a few minutes, the only thing you hear are the sound of the cicadas, the wind, and the distant ripple of the water. the quiet feels loud. your heart that was once steady is racing. you wonder if the man beside you can hear it. and then he speaks–

“i didn’t know you left a week after graduation,” he says. voice shaky just enough to reveal his nervousness.

your head turns toward him. slow and hesitant. but you don’t say anything. you’ve always been the quiet one between the two of you.

“i mean… i found out eventually, as soon as college started. but not before that. not when it mattered, when i could’ve done something.”

you look down at your hands. the same hands that once held pieces of him. notes he’d pass to you in class, fries you used to fight over. the same ones that used to hold his own whenever you feel scared to walk back home. especially after getting scolded by your parents. the same hands that held your small secret. the hands that held your feelings for him. 

“i asked heeseung where you were,” he continues. “but he wouldn’t tell me. he said you didn’t feel like going out. i should’ve realized sooner that you didn’t want to be found. by me.”

it was true. you begged heeseung not to say anything. told him that it was better that way. that it was easier than explaining that his own best friend– your own best friend– broke your heart. 

sunghoon chuckles, but it’s bitter, empty. “i didn’t understand. i kept texting you. i kept hoping that maybe, you’ll show up with a smile on your face. telling me that you were sick and was bedridden for days. when i found out that you went to the graduation party, i thought i knew how to get you out of your room. so i threw so many parties. i told myself that it was for fun, for the guys, to blow off steam after exams. but it wasn’t.”

your vision starts to blur. that god awful lump in your throat is back. he looks at you, eyes shining in the low light. honest, unflinching.

“i threw those parties for you.”

the words hit you with the force of a tidal wave. you can’t breathe. your chest caves around the weight of your heavy heart. you finally heard the truth you never knew you needed. the idea that he had missed you too. that he looked for you in ways only he knew how. in places filled with noise.

you cover your mouth with your hand, trying to steady your breathing. your sobs, yourself. but it’s too late. the tears come fast. they’re hot, heavy, unstoppable. the dam you spent 7 years building, crumbles without mercy.

“i’m sorry,” you mumble. words cracking like glass. “i’m so sorry, hoon.” and that was enough for him.

he moves. arms wrapping around you, pulling you off the swing and into his arms. he holds you like you’re fragile glass, like he knows how long you’ve been holding everything in. he always does. and that healed you. the scar you once had in your heart, fading away.  he’s been waiting to hold you for years. 7 whole years. 

you cry. until tears won’t come out anymore. 

you cry for the years you lost. for something that could have been. you cry for the girl you used to be– the one who was so in love, yet so afraid. the girl who was so sure that she will never be enough. you cry because the love you had for him never died. just buried beneath time and distance. you cry because you hate that he’s here, when it’s too late.

sunghoon doesn’t say anything. he doesn’t stop you from crying. instead, he wraps his arms around you, lets you bury your face into his shoulders. he lets you soak his hoodie with your tears. it feels like forgiveness.

his voice comes out low, almost trembling. “i looked for you in every girl i met. i tried to move on. i really did. but no one can replace you. no one knew how to make the world quiet down with one single glance.”

you want to say something. tell him that you loved him first. that you never stopped loving him. but the words refuse to come out. the ache in your heart is too big, the wound too raw. so you stay quiet.

and he understands, he always does.

for the first time in 7 years of being apart, silence feels like healing.

you stay like that, head resting on his shoulder, gazing into the horizon. until the stars begin to peek through the sky. neither of you move. neither of you dares to let go.

because maybe, just maybe, this isn’t the end. but a new beginning.

likes, comments & reblogs are appreciated <3

a/n: i wont lie, i cried while writing some of the parts. especially when that part of the song coincidentally aligns with the “sad” bits. that’s why it took me a bit to finish it. an empath lives a hard life… also because i was out for work and a date for with my bf <3

do not fret! there will be a second part to this <3 see u soon!

tags: @sunoostripletriple @yoizhrs @sievenderz @bookmarkstanley

line divider by: @strangergraphics

[thesafflelad]

Hang on, I wanna read that essay if you ever do feel like it. I watched the series years ago but never really thought about it (I was busy being stupid when I was a kid; "Grogg can't even recognize more than surface-level themes of "Nationalism" and "Religion"" and "White kid that grew up sheltered in Arkansas that got punished for questioning shit in their formative years" moment) before.

And to add onto your existing point, the fanbase ignores that fusions are their own person for almost-exclusively Garnet and maybe Smoky Quartz. Sometimes. Rarely for SQ. Sugilite, Sardonyx, Opal, and especially Stevonnie got special treatment in fanart and fics where yeah, there's a 2-voice internal monologue sometimes as a seasoning, but the fusion is treated as a character with individual motivations. Hell, there's more art I've seen of her two components— Ruby and Sapphire— than I've seen of Garnet, not even counting the times both of them show up in art of her.

This sucks. After like thinking about it now, this just really sucks. Garnet is genuinely one of my favorite characters from the show. The way she was the only one that bothered to act like a sort of parental figure to Steven genuinely made me jealous she wasn't my mom growing up, and yet Pearl gets front billing as "Steven's Mom" in most fics when she... nearly left him for dead after carrying away one of his dead mother's memorabilia as one example. Like, I get liking a flawed character— I love Peridot and she has in fact done things wrong— but... Garnet's the most motherly mom to ever Mom for Steven on top of kind of being the de-facto leader of the Crystal Gems, actually, yet the most reaction to her from people I know is either "Yeah, she's cool," or thinking she's plain.

That rant about being a healthy mom figure is a bit off-track from your point. Steven Universe itself doesn't explore Garnet's race well, either, opting to use a "post-racial world" for the purpose of showing characters of diverse skintones, but not really exploring the kinds of cultures behind each person and how said cultures interact. Gems technically don't have black people so there's an in-universe reason(however convenient for avoiding difficult themes that reflect the real world), but with how long Garnet's lived on Earth— not always secluded, either; Pearl was the main "I don't care about these human things" of the Crystal Gems— Garnet would've encountered something other than "Wow that person sure is tall" or "Damn, she can really punch and do flippy shit" over thousands of years, realistically.

In the context of the show (where there's apparently only racism in the "don't be racist" ads on Cartoon Network between new episodes of other series), I get why Garnet wouldn't have to deal with that, but metatextually, it just reads as "safe" and """wholesome""" by erasing the chance to explore genuine struggles of someone with black skin. The show loses out on a layer of Garnet— and even the black people in town— when it doesn't actually explore how other people's internal or very vocal prejudices affect their day-to-day lives. In an effort to make the world more "watchable for the masses," it makes the race of the characters a "unique spice" rather than a core ingredient, so to speak. It reads as "Ah, fuck, we forgot melanin on the last 3; let's make a black family," and leaves the visual designs at that rather than, "I want to put a black family in this small, east-coast-ish town running a family business," leading to asking "How would they be treated by other locals? Is the business harassed because they're new or is it long-standing and respected? Maybe it could be long-standing and people are still harassing the family. Is the town trying to get rid of the business or get it under new management that may be underqualified, or does the town not really worry about it?"

Genuinely, there'd be more purpose to the characters being black if they weren't in the "post-racial world" setting. Otherwise it's an aesthetic where kids can say "Wow, she/he/they look like me/my sister/brother/sibling/mom/dad/parent!!" but doesn't really provide any more representation than that. There's merit in making sure someone sees themself in art of all kinds, and it isn't bad to have that be a goal... if the author wants the audience to see themselves in more ways than just visually in the artwork. Otherwise it's just kind of empty.

I could continue rambling and post a big first draft of ideas about the show's handling of race in general... but I'm a white thing(NB individual; not self-dehumanizing in some white guilt way) on a black man's post about a black-coded character being represented poorly in Fandom and other black-coded characters in general being represented poorly in the show; I don't think my perspective is going to be as important as Salem's. I do wanna see what he says further on it but like I'm not his boss.

Well, "social media's an open stage," and all that, and my bit is done. Hook or the broom works to shoo me if I was out of line with anything I said (or just pointing out if what I said that was stupid and/but/or ignorant). Autocorrect also suggested a gun, which is kinda funny.

Anyway, I'm stopping here. So goodbye.

why does most Steven universe fanart (especially from what I've seen) exclude garnet. even the side characters with a half of minute screentime get more attention.

[kelperine]

I just saw thunderbolts and I have many thoughts

Spoilers ahead ‼️‼️‼️

1. Taskmaster dying was so pointless and honestly kind of disgusting. I tried seeing if it’s was an actor issue but apparently the writers took her out to show that “the stakes are high and anyone can die” which is a convoluted way to say nothing because we know none of the other team members are dying through cast leaks and plot armor. It rubs me the wrong way that a movie centered around character redemption threw out the girl who went through the same mercenary pain as them and got not sufficing redemption in black widow or thunderbolts. Rip Taskmaster you are special to me and I would never have done that to you. We lost a girlie today 💔

2. I liked Ghost alot in the ant man movies and honestly forgot as her character became quickly irrelevant because let’s be real ant man is no one’s favorite series. She didn’t do much in this movie, no one seemed to really connect with her and holy shit what was that bulky ahh suit 😭 I’d kill to have the white suit back from her first appearance, that was so cool. Also every move she made got fucking countered immediately. If your character can be countered by a jbl speaker blaring fetty wap then maybe she’s not a great addition to the team.

3. I thought the Bob/Yelena/Walker camaraderie was pretty solid, they all had good banter and seemed to genuinely care about each other. I don’t want to glaze Walker but I liked seeing the small ways he showed affection like shifting from calling him Bob to Bobby, and even picking the fruit for Yelena and Ghost. Hell he even took that one hit for Bucky and hauled his ass back to the elevator. I’m not sure why he was suddenly a team player but it was nice to see. That being said we lacked a whole group connection, obviously Walker cared for Ghost but Ghost didn’t seem to connect with anyone else, nor did Bucky really talk past his circle of Walker, or Alexei with his circle of Yelena. I would have liked to see a better full team moment like the Avengers shawarma scene. Everyone was pretty solid by themselves but I don’t really think of them as a group, just people who have their person if that makes sense.

4. I was going to complain that Bucky wasn’t in the movie enough because he’s my favorite and I saw it just to see him on the big screen. I was originally worried that he was going to be put through mcu hell again after his redemption in tfatws but I honestly think it was smart to distance himself from the thunderbolts team. It gives everyone else a chance in the spotlight because Bucky has already overcome his trauma and serves as a sign that they can too. I always kept him in mind during the void episodes knowing that reliving hydra must have been awful, but he’s at a point right now where he was able to blow it off and even joke to the others by remarking sarcastically that his past was great. I love seeing him in a place of healing <3 That being said I know my boy is struggling being in a team where 2 people are a stark reminder of Steve rogers. Like If I was in a team where two people looked like my dead boyfriend id throw hands every second, walker and alexei I would be out for blood 💀 Not to mention Sam who is very much captain American but it probably still hurts Bucky to see that red white and blue even when the proper person displays it.

5. You are telling me there is arguing in my sambucky household?? Marvel don’t piss me off. My one little Sam Wilson mention is Bucky arguing with him about some avengers bullshit?? Marvel I am going to run these ones. I was expecting a little call at the end like “honey you won’t believe the day I’ve had” NOT A DIVORCE.

6. Sentry was a bit confusing, he felt like a weird character to add in the timeline right now in that way that he’s pretty similar to Adam Warlock. He felt like a weird combination of Warlock x Homelander if that makes sense lol. Towards the end the movie started to feel like The Boys lmao, I thought Valentina was about to become the head of Vought and had to remember what universe we were in. Don’t get me wrong I love Bob and I part of me hates that I’m buying into the “lol so random XD name” kind of character but he was pretty chill, I know my boy is gonna love Johnny Storm just wait.

7. Where is Yelena’s Guinea pig?? I was hoping to see him in the back of the tower with a fancy set up but alas… Outside of showing the fact that Yelena doesn’t lack humanity through her rescuing if it, it is also a symbol of what they’ve all been through as Guinea pigs are commonly test subjects. I know it’s right on the nose but I think it’s still a nice touch

8. The end credit “avengers” suits were so fucking ugly ima be real 💀 Bucky what are u wearing go find a Henley

9. Fight could have been over in ten minutes if Walker and Bob kissed 🤷‍♂️ Fellas is it gay to slam a man against a wall and stare lovingly into his eyes?? Walker, first Lemar and now this? Buddy I cant defend you. Also you can’t tell me Bob and Yelena wouldn’t be the most fire lavender couple you’ve ever seen. If u want Bob u gotta go through Yelena and Walker, that’s their bbg 😤

[rockybloo]

could you write an essay (or just give some tidbits) about Ashe and her dynamics with the other characters I am SO curious about pretty pyromaniac woman <3

IT'S TIME FOR ASHE BLABBERING

Heads up because LONG...but you asked for long SOOOOoooo

Ashe is Bookmarked with Cinderella and thus, her life at home was...not the best. Her stepfamily sucked and mad her feel like an outcast for MANY reasons. She was also treated like the inhome maid more than actual family.

She also lacked any friends due to being constantly busy cooking and cleaning.

SO when she got the chance to ditch her old life to go on adventures and live in a much healthier environment, she snatched that shit up IMMEDIATELY.

This is to basically preface her dynamics by setting up that she is a "get love, give love" kind of person where if someone gives her positive attention, she will be elated due to her upbringing of constant ridicule.

She is also incredibly more relaxed in Briar Patch and around the Fabled Five because she doesn't have to deal with the stress of her homelife anymore SINCE SHE HAS A NEW HOME AND LIFE NOW!

ANYWAYS -- When it comes to Jack, Pin, Nana, and Kai, they are ALL her favorite pals in the world since they helped her out of a tough situation. They also have a lot of patience (more than she was expecting) and typically handle even her most extreme "LETS BURN THIS SHIT DOWN" moments.

Her relationship with Jack basically a lot of goofs and teases with him since he makes the funniest faces in her eyes. She's a big fan of pinching and stretching his cheeks. She likes to drop a couple "Got it Boss!" or "You tell 'em Boss!" with him when the team are out on quests since Jack is technically the leader of the group, even though he doesn't really feel like he is.

Nana is probably the closest to her in terms of being her best friend, which is funny because both lacked friends growing up. So their version of "girl time" is very nonconventional and basically Ashe hyping Nana up to act on an impulsive thought and Nana just saying "fuck it we ball". She also enjoys teasing Nana about her and Jack since she clocked her having a crush on him probably earlier than anyone else in Briar Patch.

Pin and Kai are her boyfriends. How they all winded up romantically together is something I am saving in comic. BASICALLY, Kai is the anchor that holds things down (aka keeping Pin and Ashe grounded and out of trouble). He's the most sensible of the trio, which is great because he's also the largest of the team which means he can easily scoop his boyfriend and girlfriend up and just hold them still until they calm down.

Ashe probably her most chill with Kai since she knows he can only handle so much since he's just a big softie or sometimes overthinks and worries. HOWEVER when it comes to Pin, she LOVES to mess with him because she finds his reactions cute. And there's nothing funnier to her than when Pin gets pissed off (about minor inconveniences of course, not him genuinely getting enraged about something serious). She obviously knows that fire is a big no-no since he's made of wood.

She also knows how difficult it is for him to express affection, both physical and verbal so she often teams up with Kai to ambush him into a cuddle pile and cover him in kisses (he swears up a storm at first before he chills out because he's stubborn and hates how flustered he can get)

When it comes to other Briar Patch residents, she gets along swell with everyone. I WILL say that everyone tries to avoid her being left along with Hazel and Kettle because of how mischievous the three are. I sometimes say that Jack and the twins are mischievous together, which is very true, but that's often because they get into sweet sweeping adventures.

Ashe will let Hazel and Kettle hype her up into burning shit that don't need to be burn, while they start throwing things that have no business being fuel into the fire.

It's basically like giving two little kids a living blowtorch.

[yayasvalveplay]

Akdjfj sup yaya!!! I just remembered that small Wapath ask I realized that I never really talked about him in my defense my thoughts are scrambled as hell rn adhd curse so once I articulate my thoughts into text and have time ITS ALL OVER FOR YOU BITCHES

But anyways, I wanna talk about Warpath my beloved bastard who haunts my brain I SWEAR I CHOSE HIM FOR AN ACTUAL THOUGHT OUT REASON AND NOT RANDOM I SWEAR.

Such as that ask beforehand mentioning that he's loyal to ultra magnus. That is just PART of why I chose him. Now... when's the first time we see Warpath. On episode 6 of season 3... what's the first thing we see Warpath doing?

Immediately throwing Prowl to Yoketron, genuinely like GENUINELY pissed that Prowl refuses to fight. Enough that he even compares any bot that refuses to fight Decepticons no better than a con itself. (Also you should listen to his voice bro is scaryyy 😭) Not only wishing Prowl rot in the stockade but even threatening to take him out back and force him to the war had Yoketron not intervened. (also I forgot that he legit says bam pow, and other booming noises HES A STIMMER WHEELIE AND HIM AUTUSM GANG dammit now I wantHestia to have something similar :3)

Anyway— Warpath canonically has anger issues; he's been taught by Yoketron to be honorable and loyal— but he gets violent and HE HAS taken the law in his hands, beating the shit out of criminals before sending them to jail.

Its also canon that Warpath had lead a team during the War and presumably they all died via typical war or Oil Slick's cosmic rust (funfact: Whirl was actually a part of the team and is now presumed dead as hell :D) sooo yeah he's got PTSD that maayyy be a reason for his anger issues 😭

ALSO HE AND FLAREUP ARE TOGETHER, HE LOVES HER AND CALLS HER A DEMOLITION GODDESS, HE LOVES HOW FIESTY HE IS. THEY ARE SO IN LOVE THAT I LOVE THEM, FLAREUP ALSO HAS A SOUTHERN ACCENT BAHHHH I LOVE THESE TWO NOT EVEN MINUTE LONG BACKGROUND CHARACTERS.

Now... all of this. It does paint a picture, at least I hope it does. That Warpath would've never let any Decepticons lay their servos on him or Flareup. He wouldve fought to the death, he can be an immovable object/unstoppable force. Warpath would've never been thrown into the pit becasue he would rather die...

So the question is, why is he there? And more importantly where is Flareup?

She's dead.

Died during the battle between the two factions as the Decepticons rained down on Cybertron and took over, the Allspark in Megatron's servos. The Autobots failed, of course they would— how could they go up against the Allspark? Warpath might not seen Flareup's death. That doesn't mean he DIDN'T FEEL IT, their bond breaking that he fell over in horror. He might as well been shot through his chest.

Warpath was in genuine shock before it turned to a violent grief; he lost it before being eventually subdued.

When Yoketron was killed by the Lockdown, the traitor. Warpath was devastated. He struggled to have an outlet for his aggression, evening go far as to mod his sonic radar into a cannon.

Warpath mourned Yoketron. But Flareup... his Goddess of Demolition, his love was gone.

This. This is what broke Warpath, what lead him to become truly violent. A beast that the Decepticons restrained in chains as he grieved, howled and mauled. His movements and size no longer used gracefully and with precision. Warpath was genuinely too violent to Cons for them to breed him, or even use him as a soldier. And thus Warpath was thrown into the pit to die.

Warpath had essentially become a zombie, when he wasn't dragged out by force to fight or be fed measly cubes to keep him alive. Warpath wanted to join Flareup. It was only by pitied by trapped bots who knew his reputation/name. Or Decepticons who force fed him. The bots didn't want to lose another; hence why he's still alive.. Warpath was cold, tired and so so angry, he barely acknowledged people or talked to them even in their housings.

Warpath was in deep depression. Until one day since the takeover... as he limped back to his room, exhausted and injured from today's mass event, wishing nothing more than to lock himself away and rot.

Warpath heard a cry. A sparkling's cry specifically... It takes a little to focus with Warpath's mental state. But it isn't hard to hear as the cries echo throughout the hallways. it's there, most likely near the many entrances or 'office' rooms of the Pit.

Since the takeover, it wasn't common for sparklings or younglings to be brought in by handlers as investments. If they weren't claimed by any system or their sire; they would be bought or dumped here. It wasn't new, so a handler was bound to bring attention to the pitiful peircing cries. So Warpath chose to ignore it, rubbing his helm as he felt his processor and body ache.

Minutes pass, the crying still continues, and Warpath has yet to hear steps of anyone taking the newborn away. The sparkling’s crying has reached its peak and is wearing Warpath down. Anger boils inside him—his large frame struggles before getting up to find the damn noise—dragging himself bitterly towards the squalling wails as his erratic optics looked around; searching for anyone to stop the crying. It's a full schedule today. Everyone's still outside.

And there it was. The source coming from a small crate on the floor along with other crates just delivered. Warpath sunk down, his enormous frame hunching over to see the squirming bundle in an open crate. There it was, the sparkling in a mesh raggedy blanket.

Warpath glared down at its cries, his optics briefly looking around while his audials rang from the wails, overwhelming his senses. No one, not even an 'employee' had come forth, his servos reached and grabbed the crate. The bitty had a strong voice module, their cries only stooping to whimpers and whines as tiny arms waved helplessly. The mesh blanket unwrapped by careful red digits.

His optics immediately widened in alarm; his servos nearly dropped the crate. Warpath briefly reconsidered his already poor sanity in order to correct himself, if he is actually seeing this. If this was actually true.

Her optics, a little femme with a blue optic... and red optic; her helm and still developing colors and kibble looked eerily similar... to their former leader of Cybertron; Ultra Magnus...

The thing that truly shocked Warpath to his core was her tiny little face, and her tiny body holding... certain aspects that didn't belong to her carrier. They belong to her Sire.

This bitty was an half breed; she had Con CNA inside her.

Rage bubbled in the red mech's spark; and a dark sinister thought emerged. Kill the half-breed. Just as quickly as that idea came, it was crushed by disgust towards himself. Master Yoketron would've apprehended him for daring to think such a thing like that; it was dishonorable and disgusting.

For despite having vile Con CNA, the bitty also had Autobot CNA and he couldn't dimish that. More importantly; if his assumption was true... that this... bitty's carrier was Ultra Magnus. That would take the option of getting rid of her out the window, she had the chance to possibly be something more if the Decepticons don't kill her or keep her chained down for being cursed, doomed already at the start by her creators' CNA.

Warpath slowly picked up the tiny femme, rocking her awkwardly in his large servos as she finally calmed down. Her round tired optics taking in her surroundings before focusing on the red giant. She let out a small chirp and a yawn, cuddling into his servos for warmth. Warpath stood still, frozen before slowly getting up–trudging back.

It was a idiotic thing to do; a desperate fool he was to take an investment. Warpath wasn't soft, her crying had irrated him, this bitty needs actual caretakers, he is not her Sire—

Perhaps a part of him wanted to feel useful again, regain some meager form of honor or loyalty towards the Autobot cause, to the Elite Gaurd, to Ultra Magnus, to Yoketron... to Flareup. Warpath will find a reason later, and he'll deny, deny, deny the reasons why he took the bitty in.

Hours later, the handlers will discover the empty crate and begin a search for the sparkling. They will eventually locate her in Warpath's cell; sleeping in a berth made out of makeshift materials. The gaurds will try to take her away only to be met by a snarling red beast, voice hissing that if they try—he'll show them why he's chained to the pit.

The handlers begrudgingly... let this slide, at the alarm of all the gladiators and slaves. This is the first time Warpath had actually warned them to back off, the first that he wasn't tearing apart grunts for simply coming near him... as evidence of the hastily scrubbed energon on the walls. Besides– the femme is still an investment, it would be interesting to see how she will turn out under their red beast's care. They leave, the other gladiators forced back to their rooms, one orange youngling's optics refusing to leave them even as his door closed.

ANDHHF ANYWAYS THESE ARE MY SILLY THOUGHTS LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK I GOT SO MUCH MORE

MION. MION I CAN NOT. AHHHHHHHH GIRL. I AM HMMMM. I AM UNHINGED AFTER READING THIS. I NEED MORE. AND I NEED TO KNOW WHO HER SIRE IS BECAUSE FOR THE LIFE OF ME I STILL CAN NOT THINK OF WHAT DECEPTICON WOULD FRAG HIM TO MAKE HER.

[heymylaptopisfloatingagain]

1. One time I cried in a bookstore because I was writing in the cafe and it turned out the assassin in that WIP wouldn't live through his final mission and see his daughter again.

2. All my OCs have mommy issues. Completely coincidental.

3. Worldbuilding and research...I absolutely LOVE it but boy howdy does it come at the cost of actual PLOT and WRITING if (when) I let it! *foams at the mouth* So what if that mental asylum will only be in two chapters of my fanfic? I need the building layout, the security system, staff protocol. That fantasy WIP? GOTTA CONSTRUCT A WHOLE THEOCRACY FROM THE GROUND UP.

4. Kind of an offshoot of #3, but I'm also obsessed with ancient/obscure languages and runes/scripts. Genuinely tried learning Coptic and Esperanto, but learning Japanese is hard enough... :(

5. I am a total plantser. The first half or third of a story will be bullet-pointed to death, but after that it's the narrative equivalent of bumper cars.

6. Recently getting back into poetry, and it's more fun than I remember. I used to write tons of it, but after a bad experience in college I thought all my stuff was cringe and stopped. Darling past self, you should've just said f**k it and kept on. You were only 19, for goodness sakes.

7. Finally worked up the courage to go to a writers group two years ago. Personally speaking? BEST DECISION I EVER MADE. (Also ended with me crying in the library after the group facilitator assured me my work was honest-to-gods good. I really should stop crying in public...)

8. I'm most productive when I'm away from home in general, but the weirdest place I ever wrote was in a cemetery. But the caretaker knew me well enough not to care, because I'd taken many walks there before.

9. Do I know what Briggs-Myers type my characters are? Sure do!

10. For some reason I cannot eat and write at the same time. And it's not because I'm worried about messing up the keyboard/notebook (I can and will drink when writing, and have straight up spilled coffee on my laptop before). But for some reason eating's out of the question. My best guess is that I associate eating with taking breaks, and I don't like breaking my momentum.

✨ 10 chaotic writer facts you didn’t ask for but are getting anyway ✨

I write 1,000–3,000 words a day. Not because I’m disciplined, but because I have no social life and mild control issues. It’s fine. I’m fine.

Before I ever touched a keyboard, I was an artist. Like, sketchbook-at-recess, drew-my-own-manga-level obsessed. I’ve been drawing since I was five. Now I use those powers to procrastinate writing.

I talk to my characters like they’re real people. I once argued with one out loud in a grocery store. We’re not on speaking terms anymore.

I name all my WIPs things like “pain_project” or “he cries again.docx” because I enjoy foreshadowing my own breakdowns.

I collect empty notebooks like a Victorian ghost who died tragically in a stationary store.

I have cried because a character forgave someone. That’s it. That’s the fact.

Sometimes I start new projects just to avoid editing old ones. This is not a healthy system but it is a personality.

I finish a gut-wrenching scene and then go eat cereal like nothing happened. Cold emotional whiplash is my brand.

I regularly forget what my characters are supposed to know, and when it happens, I just give them sudden intuition or full-blown memory loss.

I’ve rage-deleted whole chapters because a side character took over and made the main one look bland. And yes, I made the side character the lead.

Okay, now your turn—drop your own ✨10 chaotic writer facts✨. I know you’ve got them. Don’t leave me screaming into the void alone. Reblog this with your chaos, I want to see the beautiful mess.

Love u all!

[nonscathingbullets]

Can you rank the Curtis gang from your favorite to least favorite? Maybe with reasons why they are where they are if you want to? I absolutely love seeing how different people's lists are for this!

ABSOLUTELY!!

1. Johnnycakes:

What can I say? He's willing to kill for his friend. He's been through a lot, but he doesn't let it make him hard like Dallas. He risked his life to save a bunch of children. 10/10.

2. Darry:

He traded his future and life to take care of his brothers after their parents died. He works his ass off and probably has very little free time, but he continues to work and fight for his brothers. Plus, those roofer arms 👀

3. Two-Bit

He has such a pure heart despite being somewhat of a drunk. He's always silly and the life of the party, but he's not afraid to stand up for his friends and protect them. He's genuine and easygoing. Lives his life like every day is a party.

4. Dally

Easy. He acts all hardass (I mean, he is), but when it comes down to it, he's willing to put his ass on the line for his friends. He may be an ass, but he cares when and where it really matters. He may not have a heart of gold, but he at least has a heart of silver. He doesn't pretend to be something he's not.

5. Steve

Now, I really wanted to put Steve higher, but there was just more to go on with the others, and they kinda earned their respective spots. But Steve's a sweetheart. Good with his hands. Can fix cars, works hard, and is grade A in a fight. He seems to always be in a good mood despite what he has to go through with his dad at home.

6. Ponyboy

He's a whiner and a hater. He's a really great person, but he has a distorted view of his world and people around him. I really like his character, but what can I say?

7. Good ol Pepsi Cola

To me, he's not very significant to the story. I also don't get his appeal both looks or otherwise. Sorry, Sodapop girlies 3/10.

[thebekashow]

all of the scrunkles!

Cyn

Tessa :3

tessa silhouette

cynessa

the beloveds <3

[all-inmoderation]

not enough ppl know about this fic

take me to the answers (i'm the one who's listening) by annnubis

if your favorite character in JJK is either Yuuji or Geto, you have got to read this fic. This story understands those two characters like no other.

It's a canon-divergence, time-travel fix-it AU, in which Yuji, post-shibuya, is thrown back to gojo and geto's schooldays (post hidden inventory arc).

the prose in this fic is so polished and the characters are all given a level of maturity that i found so refreshinggggg. all the other characters are also just as fleshed out, from satoru, shoko, to even Yaga. Yuji's reactions pertaining to Gojo are especially touching. And the way he sees Geto is so characteristically kind.

some excerpts from the fic to entice you guys to read it:

They surround the crater and naturally Satoru gets closer to it than any of them, though he's right behind him. Suguru knows Satoru noticed it, too—something terribly human-shaped, with a soft filthy face and hunched shoulders and scuffed red sneakers.

The first thing Sukuna ever gave me, he thinks in the direction of his teacher sealed terrifyingly away in the dark, was all this blood on his hands.

Sensei or not. It's Satoru Gojo. It seems every version of him contains the fundamentals that set Yuuji just a little bit at ease.

Toji Fushiguro is dead. Suguru lies awake in his bed, reminding himself of this supposedly comforting fact that instead leaves him feeling hollow and restless, laying flat underneath a thin bed sheet staring up at his ceiling fan.

Sorcerers die all the time.

He is not one of the strongest. Not anymore.

Sukuna Ryomen’s vessel is compelling. The unscarred parts of his face look soft as down, but the scars put a warm feeling in Suguru's stomach.

Also, one of my favorite aspects of the fic is how it describes Yuuji's scent/energy. I know the accepted fanon is that Yuuji smells like peaches, but I've always found the idea of that scent to be a bit too sugarysweet and childish(?) to fit Yuuji.

But this:  Rosewater steam, faint and warm and welcoming, and pooling blood and something herbaceous.

now this is what I'm fucking talking abouttttt. That's how you fucking describe a scent, man! The idea of Yuuji's aura being ~rosewater steam~ is just so much more alluring and tantalizing than peaches, imo. ahhhhhh I'm in loveeee.

[sweetearthandnorthernsky]

Oh boy. This one. Is long.

Most of the characters mentioned here can be found within portions of my OC-tober collections [found here, with varying levels of canonicity], or within the over arching fics I'm writing for the LOTRO main storyline. They can also be found under this tag. But, without further ado, first up, we've got:

Saelinriel!

She's my captain and first lotro guy, so is very special to me.

She's a captain from Gondor, which given the fact that the Man intro drops you in Archet, Bree-land means I had to do some wild ass convolution to make her story make sense.

(Her parents sent her and her sister to Bree to stay with family as they're the youngest two siblings, and she is old enough now to decide she wants to go back actually).

She's the OC who gets most of the epic so.... she's traumatized <3.

Originally, she's from Dol Amroth, though her family moved to Minas Tirith when she was 6 but her grandparents stayed so there was a lot of bouncing back and forth between Dol Amroth & Minas Tirith.

She loves the ocean & swimming & sailing and she wears a clear blue gem (called a Sailor's Stone) on a necklace for luck.

Her birthday is on March 1st. (I forgot Aragorn's bday was march 1st until someone asked me if that was on purpose. I think it's funny though, so it stayed.)

She fucking hates Gothmordirith. (But also meta-wise is a lowkey foil/mirror.)

She's got a younger sibling dynamic with a lot of the Rangers in the Grey Company.

She's got... so many fics, actually. Including but not limited to: renewed shall be blade that was broken, the stars are all burning, OC-tober oneshots, and the main "These Days That Bind" fics which are all her pov.

Her tag.

Morinel!

High Elf Rune-keeper! She's the daughter of Caranthir & Netyare Calandil. She was born very briefly (10-15 years) before the Dagor Bragollach, so everything was great for a bit and then everything got bad REALLY fast.

Her mother name is Istafinwe/Isfin, which.... she doesn't use very much during the war of wrath/early second age because That's A Political Implication she simply doesn't feel like making at the moment.

Her craft is a weaver/embroiderer. (There are absolutely no Ancestral Weights TM about this, nope, no sir.)

She also was a counselor in Lindon for a while because one of her hyper fixations was architecture.

Goes into genuine fight-or-flight when around holly trees :).

She also has... a lot of fics: into darkness falls a star, one day and then another to the sea, featured very heavily in the oneshots for oc-tober, and featured quite a bit in These Days That Bind.

Her tag.

Adallinda Burrows

Hobbit burg! Because there must be at least One TM.

She's a baker by trade, and carries rolling pins with her everywhere.

She happened to be out for a walk when things went a little crazy, and she ended up in Archet alongside Saelinriel, Strider, and Amdir.

Pretty cheery. Her mom was a Brandybuck, and she lives near the Buckleberry Ferry.

I am also working on her solo fics (mainly further adventures of bilbo baggins adjacent), but she's featured in oc-tobers and "These Days That Bind".

The first song on her playlist is "Flaming Red Hair" from the LOTR soundtrack.

Her tag.

Lorindol

High Elf Hunter!

He's from a pretty minor noble family in Tirion. His big sister wanted to go to middle earth and he followed her.

He ends up in Gondolin, in the House of the Swallow, mostly just vibing.

Very much golden retriever energy.

His tag.

Celebros

A minstrel-warden multiclass from Nargothrond.

(Yeah I know multiclassing isn't a thing in lotro just let me live okay).

They were fairly young when they crossed the Helcaraxe with Finrod & the Arafinweans.

They were originally a ranger of Nargothrond, who sung as a hobby/for fun, but then started Learning For Serious.

But then Finrod died and they were like. I physically cannot do this without being violently ill, so they became a warden.

Their tag.

Idhrin Celebril

My Elf Hunter! She's from Lothlorien, and her family was from Doriath.

She has a handful of older siblings who vaguely exist, but have no real traits attached to them just yet.

She's a part of the Golden Host when they launch for Mirkwood.

She and Morinel argue a bit.

She was learning to be a lore-master in Edhelion when Talagan died and she nope'd out of it pretty hard.

She's a little bit snobby but that's okay, we love her for it.

I've been working on her solo fics for so goddamn long and yet nothing to show for it-- However, she is featured quite a bit in OC-tobers & "These Days That Bind".

Her tag.

Heledir

Human Warden! He's fairly new, so no fics or anything yet.

He's one of the Dunedain from Evendim. He's not a babyranger but he's still pretty fresh. He's been rangering for like 3-5 years, I think.

Somehow, he gets involved in the Before the Shadow Questline with Adanel (Sae's sister).

His tag.

Rómenel

The oc I made for BBOM!

She's a captain-in-training for the last alliance, and is just doing her goddamn best when she gets pulled into All Of That.

She has a couple fics in OC-tobers, and will eventually be in These Days That Bind.

Her tag.

Lotro OC Introduction Reblog Game!

Get your guys out there! People want to know about your OCs but don't know where to start, so this is an opportunity to introduce them to lotro tumblr!

Reblog this post with a list of your lotro OCs, give us a name/race/class and a little about them! Such as where they're from and some neat facts about them/their story. You can also link to your favorite fics featuring them if you'd like so people know where they can start reading!

[anonymouscheeses]

I'm gonna be shitting and screaming and starting fights if Sera becomes a villain. I can't take sibling angst, Sera loves Emily I swear guys believe meeee.

[miniagula]

movie sonadow would be so l umity-coded…and i say this bc their dynamic is similar to the games but with a different and tender perspective: they both empathize deeply with each other now, and this shadow is not as reticent or closed off bc of that. that being said: movie!sonic would ABSOLUTELY 'YOU'RE the sweet potato!' the hell out of shadow

[unforgivingchorus]

I’ve been deconstructing my ideas of Tim to separate fanon from canon for the purpose of my solo run idea. What do you mean Batman calling him Jason was a canon event. I understand fanon has a basis in canon but I thought that was a development of fanon maybe. Eye is twitching I’m bringing back all of my deconstructed emotional disconnected mentor Batman thoughts

[hopeswriting]

imagine you're luce, and you're born the heir to a mafia family. you're mafia-born, and so of course also mafia-raised, and then also a donna-to-be. you're raised to be able to take on the role, to be good and capable at it, are taught to make one of your core beliefs about how the many must come before the few, because the family must always come first. you're going to be the donna, of course you must always prioritize the family above all else, it's your foremost and most important duty.

if caring about the few too comes at the price of the many, comes at the price of the family, is it even worth it? if the happiness gained from it comes at the price of a greater suffering for others, is there even any meaning to it, even if it's your happiness we're talking about? you understand, don't you?

you're not sure if you do, but you care about your family, love it, want to do right by it once you become their donna, so you nod, listen and learn.

(you don't have to be taught the pain and loss and guilt and anger and bitterness is a fair price to pay for the pain you decide has to be inflicted and the sacrifices you decide must be made, including by yourself. it's the least you could do, even.)

imagine you're luce, and the gift of foresight runs through your blood.

you would not call it a gift. you did not ask for it either. and you'll never come to see it as something wanted by you.

you can see the future, and it happened exactly as you saw it would, so of course it's exactly the way you wanted it to go. you can see the future, and it happened exactly as you saw it would, so of course you didn't care to try hard enough to change it. you saw the future before the shape of it had yet to be breathed into existence, and who's to say it didn't come into existence only because you saw it happen? you saw the future, and it happened worse than it had to for it.

you can see the future, but you still can't make it anything else than what it was always going to be. you can even make the visions happen at your will, but you still have no say on what you see or how much you see. you still can only be the witness of it before anyone else can.

it does mean double and longer the happiness sometimes, means relief and gratefulness and hope beyond words, and it'd be cruel of you to voice out loud your feelings for others to hear the many more times it means something else.

you can see the future, and it doesn't make it any kinder on you than on anyone else, does not give you any more power or control over it than anyone else, but at least you can see the future. you're given the time to make peace with it, to brace yourself for it, to bargain with it, to plead and beg and fight against it however desperately and hopelessly, even if in the end it still happens exactly as you saw it would.

(you can see the future, and it still doesn't hurt you any less than anyone else when it happens, but you don't expect anymore for anyone to hold you any less responsible for it anyway. it would be nice for someone to do it one day, but you understand.)

you can see the future, and you decide it's a kindness to both yourself and others to keep it for yourself as much as possible whenever you can.

imagine you're luce, and your family has this set of rings they've looked after and protected for as long as your family has existed. they're one set of three of the most important artifacts in the world, ones that help in safeguarding its existence and balance. they're duty, the very first one and the most important one your family was created for.

the pacifier around your mother's neck is duty too, and the most important and powerful artifact among twenty-one in safeguarding the world and its balance. it's been passed down in your family too, from mother to daughter. it's duty, but less tied to your family and much more to the blood running through your veins. it's a curse, in fact, as it demands heavy sacrifices the rings don't, and one that can only be tied to the blood running through your veins.

(your mother looks at you as if expecting some kind of reaction from you, and you can only wonder at which point you weren't supposed to see it as a given. duty and sacrifices have been one and the same for you for a long time now. is it even duty if it doesn't require any sacrifices from you?)

imagine you're luce, and your mother dies for duty. she's the donna, and so she dies for your family. she's the sky arcobaleno, and so she dies for the world. she's your mother, but she dies anyway, doesn't fight it either, even knowing she will leave you behind, even knowing she won't ever get to see what you look like all grown-up.

everywhere you look, duty stares back at you, from your mother and the pacifier around her neck, her love for your family and the life she gives up for it, her love for you and how she dies anyway while you're still only a child. duty, from your family members and how they die for you and kill for you, how they do both at your command, how their lives are in the palms of your hands and how they weigh only as much as you allow them to at a time. duty, from the knowledge your foresight gives you and the shackles tied to the blood running through your veins.

your mother's only duty while she lives too. she loves you, but she'd have had to give birth to you anyway even if she didn't. she loves you, but she still gave birth to you even knowing the kind of life you'd have to live, the kind of hands you'd inevitably end up with, the burdens she'd have to lay on your shoulders, passing them down from her own. because she loves you, she finds the resolve to raise you to be able to face all of it head-on and come out on top, but she'd have had to raise you much the same way anyway even if she didn't.

(she doesn't die for you, doesn't fight to be able to keep living with you, and this, too, is your mother surrendering to duty one last time.)

(you're so sick of it, so angry at it, so hateful and resentful against it. you're so stifled by it to the point you've stopped being able to breathe for a long time now. or you would have been if they had taught you how to face duty in this way too.

it's for the better they didn't. a silver lining, sparing you pain that isn't necessary for you to go through. everyone you turn to only teaches you how to keep holding your breath longer, and you listen and learn, obedient and dutiful as you've ever been.

you're grateful for it too. really, you are.)

everywhere you look, there's no room for you to so much as question any of it, let alone anything more. duty is commendable, something you ought to look up to and strive towards, strive to achieve. duty is the right thing to do. of course it is.

(you exhale a breath of relief that shakes you down to your very core.

thank god, it's at least the right thing to do.

you're grateful for it beyond words. really, you are.)

imagine you're luce, and before it even happens, you know the choice you'll make when climbing that mountain, when standing on top of it, when waiting for a bright light to shine down on you from above. you know the choice you'll make then, even when pregnant with your daughter.

it doesn't matter since how long you knew, be it years, months, days, hours or minutes before. all that matters is that before you can even contemplate the idea of making another choice and all its implications and possible consequences, before the thought can even come alive in your mind, you already know the choice you'll make.

(you can see the future, but just because you already saw it, it doesn't mean it's now set in stone.

you can see the future, but just because you're given the chance to fight to change it, it doesn't mean it still won't happen every bit like you saw it.

it doesn't mean it can't still happen even worse than how you first saw it happen because you fought to change it, no matter how already dreadful it originally was.)

imagine you're luce, and before it even happens, you know they'll be others with you standing on top of that mountain. you're the only one who'll know it before it happens.

(because you can see the future.

and oh, you did not ask for it.)

they're strangers, people you don't owe anything to. adults who choose to show up at the first meeting, and to show up to every following mission after that. the chosen seven, whose ambitions and prides lead them to walk the path of the seven strongest too once laid down in front of them.

you don't force their hands in making any of those choices for them. you're not responsible for any of them.

you become coworkers then, accomplices, your hands stained in blood to various extent, but now dipping in the same pool of blood as you strive towards the same goal together. you have each other's backs, learn each other's strengths and weaknesses, learn each other's personalities, likes and dislikes. you keep having to spend more time together as the missions keep coming your way.

inevitably, you come to care about them. even more damning, they come to care about you in return. enough so they'll look after your daughter even after what'll happen on top of that mountain. enough so they'll look after your granddaughter too, warmly and fondly enough she'll call one of them uncle.

you're still the only one who knows they'll stand together with you on top of that mountain, not knowing what'll happen on it like you do.

and you do care about them, you swear you do. really, you do.

(you care about them the same way your mother cared about you, and how she still raised you to have steel in you and be made of sharp edges you know how to use. you care about them the same way you care about your family, and how you still send them to their deaths as needed so the rest of your family you care about just the same can keep on living longer and safely. this is the only way you've had the chance to learn how to care and love.

duty and sacrifices have been one and the same for you for as long as you can remember. it doesn't matter at which point sacrifices came to mean love to you too.

and most of all, you love your daughter more than anything else in the world.)

imagine you're luce, and this is who you are. this is who you've been raised to be, the only way you've been given room to grow up to be. this is the life you've lived and the kind of life that has shaped you as the person you are now. this is what you've been taught and told is the best version of yourself you could have grown up to be. this is who you ended up being by what you've been taught and told are all the right choices to make.

you're still the only one who knows what is about to happen on top of that mountain. it hasn't happened yet. the fate of the world hangs on what'll happen on top of that mountain, the same world you'll have to give birth to your daughter in. the same daughter you're currently pregnant with.

now imagine you're luce, look me in the eye and tell me you'd know how to even form the thought of the possibility of there being any other choice to make. look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't look at the only choice in front of you, and know deep in your bones it's the only right choice to make. that it is right of you to make it. because it simply has to be.

(imagine you're luce, and you're not doomed by the narrative. of course, you're not.

why would you need to be when the narrative has painstakingly shaped you all your life to become its perfect, faithful and dutiful sacrificial lamb?

and then, imagine you're luce, and you're even grateful for it, so, so very grateful it held up its end of the bargain too.

truly, you are.)

[dennisboobs]

i think i have the most unfortunate-for-everyone type of brainrot that makes me obsessed with maureen and mandy instead of dee and the waitress