#Light through a Broken Lens

[dragonowl]

Pathcode:

Light Through a Broken Lens

The Sky That Doesn't End: Part 2

Masterlist

Genre: EXO AU, Romance, Mystery

Rated: PG

Pairing: Byun Baekhyun x Lara (OC)

Summery: Exo has scattered. Now in hiding after the Red Force closed in on them and Luhan went missing. Baekhyun finds himself in a small town while he waits until they can reunite again. Guarded after everything that has taken place, he’s not looking for friendship, or anything else, until a light shines through, even as the darkness closes around them.

Next, AO3

Chapter 1: Depth of Field

The sun warmed Baekhyun’s skin against the cold breeze that weaved through the tall grass. It was turning golden, creating the perfect lighting for him to catch through his lens. The puttering of an old truck broke the stillness as it made its way on the road behind him, but he kept his focus on the camera. He was so focused that he didn’t notice the puttering had stopped. 

“You okay?” 

He jumped with a yelp at the sudden voice and spun around to find that the truck had come to a stop and its driver was addressing him. The light of the setting sun was blocking his view of the woman’s features, but he could tell she was young by her voice. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Do you need help?” she asked with a giggle that tinkled like soft bells. 

“I’m okay,” he responded, the Russian still awkward in his mouth. “Just catching some photos before the sun goes down.”

“Would you like a ride back to town?” she asked. “It’s quite a walk.”

“I’m going to be taking photos for a while, but thank you,” Baekhyun said and started to turn back to the scene he was capturing. 

“I don’t mind waiting,” the woman said. “I’d hate to leave someone alone on these roads after dark. They’re not the safest.”

“It could be a while,” he said, turning back to her again. 

“My evening is free.”

“Well…” he thought for a second. Walking back in the dark was not the most ideal situation. “Okay,” he finally conceded. “I’ll buy you dinner as a thank you.”

“I’d never refuse a free meal,” she said with a chuckle. 

He smiled at her honest response and then turned back to the scenery that was quickly changing with the sun’s descent. Faster than he anticipated, the sun was gone and he rushed to pack his gear in the lack of light, then made his way carefully through the tall grass to the road where the truck still waited. 

The young woman was now hidden in the heavy shadows of twilight, but she noticed him coming before he had even left the brush. 

“All done?” she asked, leaning across the truck to open his door from inside. 

“Yep,” he responded as he finally made it to the asphalt. “Where can I put my gear?”

“There isn't much room in the cabin, unfortunately, but you can get in here what will fit and place the rest in the bed if you’re okay with that.”

“Better than lugging it back to town on foot,” he said. He placed his camera bag on the floor then took his tripod to the back and placed it in the truck bed as securely as possible. When he climbed into the front she started the vehicle and then held her hand out to him. 

“My name’s Lara,” she said and he took her hand. 

“Baekhyun,” he said after a second of hesitation. 

“Korean?” she asked with surprise, her grip tightening as she pulled him closer.

He nodded, trying to pull back.

“Oh, sorry,” she said, letting go and switching to Korean. “I got excited. There aren’t really many Koreans in the surrounding towns. 

The language change surprised him and he noted the lack of accent. “Are you Korean as well?”

“On my mom’s side,” she said, then put the truck in gear and started driving. “Spoke both Korean and Russian growing up, so I’m fluent in both. Your Russian is pretty good, but I can tell it’s not a natural language for you. How long have you lived here? Must be fairly new if I hadn’t heard about you yet. Word about newcomers travels pretty fast around here.”

“I haven’t been around long,” he said, adjusting in his seat as he tried to come up with answers. “I travel a lot and liked some of the scenery in the area so I thought I’d stick around for a bit.”

“Do you work for a magazine, or…?”

“Just freelance,” he responded when she trailed off. “I’ll send shots to magazine companies sometimes and find random requests online to fulfill. I’d like to set up a studio someday though if I can ever settle down.”

“Wanderlust?”

“Something like that. Nowhere really feels like home.” He shifted again and coughed. “What about you?”

“I can’t really seem to escape the small-town life,” she said with a shrug. “Moved away from home, but only made it a few towns over. I didn’t really have any grand plans, just wanted to see how I would do on my own.”

“Sounds grand to me,” Baekhyun said with a smile. “Where do you work?”

“The little bakery on the east end at the corner. I was just coming back from a delivery to the next town over.”

“I’ve been meaning to go in there. What do you recommend?”

“We’ve got some pretty good muffins,” she said. “But they’re my specialty so I might be biased.”

“I happen to really like muffins,” he said. “I’ll have to give them a try.”

They continued to chat casually as they bounced down the road. Stars became more and more visible as the light continued to fade in the horizon and the homesickness that Baekhyun had been struggling with lightened slightly at the familiar language and constant chatter.

Next

[happyk44]

Chewing on my thoughts like a feral dog because I'm running on like three hours of sleep and the brain be tornadoing, but like!!! Lewin and Renzou being opposite sides of the same coin or whatever. So similar in their inability to relate to other people, and yet Lewin being incapable of disliking himself over it because, despite everything Osceola taught him and knowing there's something wrong and different about him, he is unbothered by it. He accepts his deficits for what they are, violence and all. He knows he's off compared to everyone else, but that's just how it is. It's not a big deal. He makes due.

And then there's Renzou who grew up loved and isn't violent, doesn't really have those urges or curiosities, but he knows something's wrong with him, something that separates him from everyone else around him and it makes him hate himself and he gets mad about that too because it's not like he's hurting anyone so why is he so mad about it? Why does he care so much? Why does he want to fit in with his family? They fucking suck! But they love and care about each other and he doesn't and it drives him up the wall because their lives are the same, so why is he the only one who's broken?

[julymusings]

PORTRAIT

jason hates taking photos. it's a shame you find him so beautiful.

Jason Todd isn’t one to take pictures. Standing there with a fake smile, posing for a deceptively happy vignette of an unhappy reality feels awkward. He never knows what to do with his hands. He doesn’t like the way his face translates through the lens; the green of his eyes glows just this side of too spectral, his broad, stocky frame towers over that of his siblings, and the scars on his face bring memories of a darker time, an intentional carelessness for his life he used to carry. He leans away when others huddle together to smile. Pretends to notice something behind him when caught in the background of the lens.

Enter you. Only capable of looking at him with hearts in your eyes. Serving on a silver platter what he used to starve and scavenge for in dimly lit bars on the lips of women who only saw him as something to sink their teeth into and then spit out, never sticking around for longer than one night. Jason feasted at first, he’ll admit, stuffing himself to sickness on your unconditional adoration until it was almost too much to bear.

You take pictures of him and gush over them, telling him how pretty he is. How he belongs in a museum. He never believed you, never bothering to actually look at the pictures you take. But pretty soon he’s everywhere; you set him as your lock screen and screensaver, and print photos to frame on your bedside table. When your storage is maxed out, you steal Jason’s phone to flood his camera roll, and he finds that he keeps going back to stare at the photos you take. Selfies where you kiss his cheek and his mouth curves upward just enough to transform him from brooding to disarming; portraits where he looks, not at the camera, but just beyond and his eyes crinkle, the tips of his sharp canines peeking out over his bottom lip. He looks…different. Better. He starts to believe the things you tell him; his beauty is ancient. Michelangelo himself carved the contours of his body. The Trojans and the Greeks fought for a decade over him.

But what is it about this camera, he wonders, that makes his appearance digestible? Is it the way you frame him front and center, the backlighting sun rays extending in all directions behind him, encircling him with a holiness he doesn’t deserve? The scenery against which you capture him, busy nighttime streets under city lights, just dark enough to smooth out his rough edges? 

Or maybe it’s just you. Seeing himself from your point of view. Seeing himself as yours. His hooked nose, crooked from being broken one too many times, belongs to you for the early mornings when you trace down the bridge, around his lips, and up his jaw, drawing a portrait with your fingertips. His unruly hair, with streaks of white that make him stick out like a sore thumb, exists only for you to run your fingers through when he lays his head in your lap. His scars are for you to kiss on those difficult days until he can bear to look in the mirror again. He wants nothing more than to be a museum of all things you.

Jason Todd isn’t one to take pictures. But when you ask so nicely, showering him with compliments and promises of thank-you-kisses later on, how can he say no?

why are we as a society still striving for more definition and higher quality photos for anything other than, like, x-ray imaging and space exploration. I don't want 8k ultra-max hd in my phone that highlights every hair and pore and eye bag i want grainy and dark and fuzzy because it makes me look hotter and that's a fact. rant over

anyway he's so pretty i wanna take candids of him and kiss his face and squeeze his huge ti-*GUNSHOTS*

this is gonna be my last post for the next few weeks because i have finals. see you on the other side🫡 (born to be a farmer on a remote island, forced to study STEM) i'll be on requests as soon as i'm back trust

[mggslover]

Killing machine

In which reader shocks herself with her abilities in the field, leading her to doubt the person she's become.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader Genre: angst, fluff Tropes: wound cleaning Word count: 1,8k A/n: the first one shot on this blog and also the first I've written in years!!

The sound of her heavy breathing and the occasional clicking of her broken flashlight fill the stuffy, cramped space of the abandoned container Y/n finds herself in. The BAU is after a team of unsubs who’ve been killing elderly widows who come from old money, using their grief as a way to make it into their lives and homes. They murder them in cold blood, stealing their most prized possessions and storing them in abandoned locations. For the past two days, Y/n has been visiting warehouses all over the state, trying to identify who the found property belongs to and finding new leads on where the unsubs could be. 

Today should’ve been another day of clearing out warehouses and containers. Y/n and the team split up after arriving on the property. Callahan, JJ, and Rossi taking one warehouse, Hotch, Morgan, and Reid taking the other, while Y/n got the task to search some smaller containers around the area. She squints her eyes in an attempt to fight the night blindness as her flashlight flickers. “Come on, just work with me,” she mumbles as she slaps her palm against the back of the flashlight, trying to get it to properly work. Y/n gives a small sigh of satisfaction when a bright light erupts out of the flashlight. As she tilts her head back up, she’s greeted by the chest of a male just inches away from her. Her flashlight shatters to the ground, her hard effort gone as the lens breaks into tiny pieces. The male, who she identifies as one of the unsubs, reaches in his jean pocket where the handle of a Glock is sticking out. Before the unsub has the chance to make a single movement, a bullet derived from Y/n’s gun makes a quick and clean hole in his forehead. She’s met with the familiar ringing in her ear and natural response of flinching as his blood splatters onto her. 

She hears a creak and turns around, expecting a team member to make sure she’s alright. 

“Hey, I-“

She stops dead in her tracks as she catches a small dim of light behind a wooden crate, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she makes out two eyes. The click of a gun makes her snap her head around, and she soon figures out it wasn’t just one of the unsubs hiding in here… it’s all of them. Gun in her clammy hand, she guides herself by the small sounds of movement that suddenly sound as loud as the beating of drums. Adrenaline courses through her veins, her gaze only focused on what’s in front of her as she starts firing. One by one the unsubs hidden behind boxes and shelves fall to the ground. She lets out a yelp and stumbles when a bullet grazes her cheek, making her land on her back. Y/n quickly holds herself up on her arms as she hits the final blow at her shooter. The sound of the gunshots had barely registered in her mind before the deafening silence followed. Her grip remains strong on her gun as her heart pounds into her chest. 

“Y/n!” Spencer’s shriek of panic is heard across the container. He stumbles his way over the boxes and bodies on the ground, only focused on her. “I thought you were dead,” he says as he kneels next to her, brows furrowed and mouth softly agape as he flashes his flashlight in her face, examining her. She hisses as his cold fingers trace the wound on her cheek. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he apologizes. 

The rest of the team follows Spencer into the container. Derek crouches to observe the lifeless body of the assumed leader of the group of unsubs. “Damn girl, that’s a good shot,” he compliments. 

Rossi looks around at the scattered bodies. “It’s not just him, all of these are aimed perfectly,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice. “I need to take some extra classes from you. I can’t even shoot like this in GTA.” His words earn some chuckles, but it makes her stomach churn. She didn’t even think twice about taking them down—how was that something she should feel proud of? The praise made her feel like a weapon, like she was being recognized for something she didn’t want to be good at. 

Hotch’s eyes softened when he noticed her clear discomfort and the state of shock she was still in as she couldn’t find the words to speak. “Reid, get Y/n to the medics outside and then take her home. We’ll get the paperwork done tomorrow.”

-

As Spencer turns the key into his apartment door, he makes sure to keep his hand steady on Y/n’s lower back, gently guiding her inside. “Let’s go clean this wound up. The medic told me you have to sanitize it twice a day, before going to bed and after waking up.” Spencer continues rambling on about the medical books he’s read and how he’s practiced cleaning dirty cuts on himself, as he makes her sit down on the edge of the bathtub. She doesn’t process any of his words, though. Her mind keeps spinning back to the container, how she didn’t experience a moment of doubt as she saw the unsubs armed and how meticulously she ended them. How easy it was to end the lives of five human beings in the span of a single minute. 

She tilts her head with a hum as Spencer repeats her name. “Can I take your vest off?” She nods as she lifts her arms, giving Spencer access. He helps her lift out of it,  tossing the bulletproof vest behind him. She cringes as she notices the dried blood and gunpowder coating it. “Hey… I’m right here, you’re okay,” Spencer softly coos, turning Y/n’s attention back on him. 

He traces the back of his finger against her unhurt cheek. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” When she doesn’t respond, he gently cups her chin, tilting it up to bring her attention to him. He crouches so that he can look her in the eyes. “Tell me what’s bothering you.” She bites down on her bottom lip, a nervous habit she has. She knows she can trust Spencer, but she’s feeling embarrassed. Embarrassed by the fact that she’s struggling so much about something that should be routine by now after the number of years she’s worked at the BAU, but also embarrassed by the fact that it’s supposed to be routine, since it shouldn’t. She shouldn’t have the skill to perform headshots like that and she definitely shouldn’t be praised about it by her colleagues. She knows they mean well, but she cannot get rid of the sick taste in her mouth. 

“Sweetheart, listen to me. I know it was terrifying being alone in there. I know you don’t like the dark or tight spaces, but it’s over now. You did so well.” 

“Did I?” Her voice comes out harsher than intended, making Spencer tilt his head in confusion. 

“I killed five people, Spencer, five,” she says as her voice shakes. Spencer rubs her shoulders up and down. “You were left with no choice, there was no other option.” 

“That doesn’t make what I did any better.” She whispers, her voice barely audible as the tears start to spill. She shakes her head as she scoffs a laugh in disbelief. “God… you heard what Rossi said. I’m a killing machine, Spencer! I didn’t even know I was capable of doing that.” She says. “Garcia fights the justice system to get the man who almost killed her off of death row, and what do I do? I don’t give them a single chance and kill them without even thinking about it. I swear Spence, it happened as a reflex. It shouldn’t happen as a reflex!” Y/n’s anxiety builds up as she keeps thinking of reasons as to why she’s a bad person. The empathy is visible in Spencer’s eyes as his hand trembles slightly as he reaches for the dirty bandage. It wasn’t the wound he was worried about— it was what he couldn’t see. How the strongest person he knew was shaking in front of him, wanting nothing more than to protect her from everything the job took from her. 

“You cannot compare those situations. Garcia saw the potential of him bettering his life. You had no other choice, you needed to protect yourself.” 

She swallows. “I used to be a lot like her, you know.” The memories of Y/n’s early days in her career flood her mind. Back when she could feel proud of her ability to protect others. Back when she could still relate to believing the good in people. She used to think every life had some value worth saving. She doesn’t remember the moment that changed. 

Spencer softly smiles down at her. “You still are, love. You’re a soft-spoken kind soul, you just put some protective layers over that. I know it’s hard to reconcile who you are now with who you were when you started this job,” Spencer says as he caresses her freshly bandaged cheek. “Your strength might have hardened you, but that doesn’t mean you’ve lost your compassion. You’re still the same person. You just do it differently now.” His words make her melt as she leans into his touch, surrendering herself to the security he offered. Spencer smiles to himself as he guides her up off of the bathtub, pulling her into his embrace and resting his chin on her head. 

“You’re such a caring person, sweetheart. The fact that you’re worrying about this tells me enough of how good of a person you are.” Her eyes water as he presses a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I don’t know anyone as gentle and loving as you,” he whispers between kisses as he continues showering her in words of affection and reassurance.

 “You’re the most perfect woman I’ve ever met and you’re amazing at the job that you do. The risk you took has saved so many people, love, just think about it.” Warm, full tears soak his sweatshirt as she buries her face in his chest. Finding gratitude in the fact that her boyfriend always knows the right words to comfort her. 

He takes her face in his hands. “I’m not going to lie to you. It’s going to take a while to get over this, but we’ll go through it together,” he says. Those sweet, brown bambi eyes looking deeply into hers make her believe every word he says. 

“Will you help me? When I need to fill in the evaluation?” She softly asks, already dreading going through the case again, but Spencer's soft gaze calms her. 

“I will, love. I’ll be there every step of the way.”

[rorylovesangst]

A Burning Hill

construction worker/underground fighter simon riley x waitress

mood board

song of the chapter is How To Disappear Completely by Radiohead

tws: death of a parent, suicidal ideation, abuse/harassment, self inflicted burn (sh), trauma

chapter 1 -> next chapter

word count: 1.2k

Even when you were nestled in your mother's warm belly, coddled by her own blood and flesh, you could tell you were a burden. A miracle, the doctors said when you were born. Your mother's heart stopped beating for 4 minutes while in labor—vital to a fetus and its host. The miracle was the baby bathed in blood and mucus, not the lifeless mother, puckered and pearl.

You didn’t cry when you were born, too occupied trying to get your walnut-sized heart to betray you, set you free of the hell you’d just begun.

You were never a child who cried for attention. Instead, you swallowed your sounds, held your breath, and watched the world through the lens of someone who wasn’t meant to stay. The hole in the shape of a woman you never met was always there, a mark left in the silence—a picture on the wood-paneled wall. Belly swollen, smile wide. No stories to tell, no lullabies, no warmth from the one person who was supposed to make you feel like you belonged.

Instead, it was just the quiet hum of a broken home, where nothing was ever whole enough to be considered sound.

The nurses said you were a fighter, wrapped in white cotton and a pink cap. You survived the nightmare. You were strong.

But strength doesn’t mean survival, does it? It just means you keep waking up. And waking up—day after day—feels more like a punishment.

You spilled coffee down your shirt today. It seared into your skin and left it hot and freckled. Ronny coughed a whiskey-smelling bark into your face when you stammered into the kitchen with water in your eyes and a half-empty coffee pot trembling in your hand. You felt the pull, the familiar flicker in your neck—small but sharp, like a wire snapping in your spine. It tugged your head to the side before you could stop it. Ronny’s face twisted, his lip curling around the cigarette as though your body’s rebellion were some kind of offense. You watched through blurred vision as he slapped a damp rag against your chest and snarled Clean yourself up, bitch through his cigarette before brushing past you, too close to be accidental. You keep your eyes on the streaked linoleum and mutter an apology.

“Blue, honey,” Olive gasped through the doorway, rushing in and plucking the pot from your shaking hand as though it might shatter, “Are you alright?”

You nodded, shallowing back shards of glass. If you tried to speak, you knew it would come out warbly and wet. The buzz radiated under the damp rag like it wanted to remind you it was there, that you were here. Alive, maybe. Existing, at least.

She steered you into the employee bathroom, the fluorescent light hissing overhead like an unwelcome witness. Perched on the cold, cracked toilet seat, you felt her fingers hastily unbuttoning the top four pins of your blouse. When she saw the angry red blooming across your collarbone and down to your breasts, she winced as if the burn had somehow reached out and burned her too.

Twenty-five minutes and half a roll of gauze later, you were back on your heels, tray in hand, weaving through the diner like a ghost. Grease clung in the air, mixing with the sting of antiseptic rising from your skin. You didn’t glance at Ronny as you passed, but the weight of his eyes was enough of a reminder that he was there.

By 11, the diner was mostly empty, its silence broken only by the occasional clatter of a spoon against porcelain. Three regulars slouched over the bar like wilted plants, nursing their coffees and bacon, while two new faces lingered in the shadows of the back corner.

Olive had clocked out at 8, leaving the newcomers to your care. Their eyes snapped to the bandages the moment you approached, their stares like tiny spotlights burning through your sticky skin.

You tugged at the puppet strings of your face, drawing your lips into a smile that felt brittle enough to crack. “Hi. What can I get for you guys?”

Their dirtied hands moved in unison, flipping through the laminated menus with a sound like shuffling paper. Both men hummed, low and indecisive, until the one with the prickly, dark mohawk spoke first.

“I’ll tek ah ham n’ cheese toastie, and some orange juice, bonnie,” he chirped, his voice thick with a Scottish accent, coarse as gravel. His crooked smile curled like a frayed ribbon across his chapped lips, his eyes lingering on your bandages for a beat too long before snapping back to the menu.

“And I’ll jus’ ‘ave a cuppa, light an’ sweet,” the blond huffed in a British accent, his dirt-covered palms sliding the menus across the counter.

“Those will be right out for you,” you say with a small smile before retreating to the back to put in their orders.

Rain taps a steady rhythm on the metal roof as you wait for Tony, the cook, to finish. Glancing out the window, you watch the downpour drench the empty lot. The walk home is going to suck. Of course, you don’t even have an umbrella.

The food bell rings and you're quickly balancing a plate in one hand and their drinks in another. The toastie sizzled on the plate as you slid it in front of the mohawk man—Johnny, you decided, based on the stitched patch on his jacket. The mug landed gently in front of the blond, whose tag says Riley. His eyes flickered up at you as if weighing something, but he said nothing. Johnny didn’t bother hiding his stare.

“Yer chest,” he started, jerking his chin toward the gauze peeking from your blouse. “Looks nasty. Burn?”

Your hand hovered on the edge of the table, fingers tightening around the curve like it might anchor you. For a moment, the words sat heavily on your tongue, like pills you were too afraid to swallow.

“Just an accident,” you muttered, the smile on your lips wilting at the edges.

“That so?” Johnny leaned back, his yellow construction jacket creaking as he shifted. His accent softened, as though he was testing the weight of your lie. “Guess this place gets rougher than it looks, eh?”

You huff out a laugh that makes your sternum stutter like a kindergartner on the first day of school.

Riley—the blond—stirred sugar into his coffee with slow, deliberate motions. His gaze is like a dagger, the blade barely nicking your skin. Johnny’s stare doesn't let go either. He’s waiting for more, expecting more—like it’s not enough. You can feel the tick of the words in your neck, the way they press against your skin like a bruise.

Before you can stop it, you feel the familiar flicker—a twitch, a sharp pull that catches your breath. Your head jerks sideways, and you hear the strange, strangled sound of a laugh—an involuntary, sharp noise escaping you, even though it isn’t funny. You want to shove it back down and swallow it back inside you, but it’s out there, splintered in the air between you.

Riley doesn’t seem surprised. His eyes flicker between you and Johnny, an unreadable expression passing over his face. You know he’s noticed. They both have.

But then the tension, thick and bruising, is broken by the shuffle of feet behind you as another customer slides into a booth. You feel the burn of their stares fade just as quickly as it came, but the heat in your cheeks doesn’t fade. Still, your hands shake as you back away, your smile a brittle thing you have to patch together before you disappear back into the shadows of the diner, pleading for Tony to hand them the check.

[peachsayshi]

🩵

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ minors / ageless / blank blogs (dni) - dad gojo x reader

papa's scary face is how your daughter describes it. the difference when her usually bubbly, bright father morphs into somebody else. the expression he makes when she accidentally walks in on you and satoru having a serious argument. when she catches him coming home from work with his shoulders taut and his brows furrowed.

satoru's daughter is the light of his life - his little peace of heaven on earth. that's why he is so terrible when it comes to discipline (a lecture you constantly have to give him). she has never been on the receiving end of your lover's scary face. isn't familiar with the hardened muscles he express when serious, or notices the angry twitch of his jaw when frustrated.

it's rare, but these moments happen. satoru may possess godlike powers, but he's still inherently human. his very essence the same that make up you and your daughter.

you're surprised when you see her quietly tiptoe her way towards the sofa, towards you and her father. her energetic aura dwindled by silence. her bottom lip is tucked tightly between her teeth, her beautiful round eyes varnished with tears ready to fall.

satoru's face instantly drops with concern. his body immediately growing protective with his arm lightly slipping away from around your waist.

"you okay, mochi?" he asks sweetly, his brow quirking at her arms tucked behind her back.

you both know that she's hiding something.

"I did something bad" she says quietly, her worried voice so small it makes satoru spring to his feet to meet her halfway.

he crouches on his knees, his height daunting compared to hers. he lightly tugs at her frosty pigtail, and she sniffles ever so slightly to keep her brave face in place.

always trying to hold a strong front, just like her father.

"what did you do?" he asks with a gentle smile, watching her shift from one foot to the next.

" I..uhm...I was playing with your toys," she mumbles, unable to meet his gaze as she keeps her own firmly on her pattering feet. "I know they're yours. I know I have’ta ask first. I was tryna to be...uhm..."

"careful?" satoru completes, tilting his head in an attempt to make contact with his hesitant daughter who still hasn't figured out all her words just yet.

"yeh that..." she grumbles to reveal what's behind her hands.

you press your fingers against your lips when you see it.

satoru's favorite pair of sunglasses.

a limited edition pair from one of his favorite high fashion brands. he splurged a stupid amount of money of it. even kept the packaging because he hyper fixated on the details. the frame was extremely delicate, which is why he rarely wore it. but he gushed over it for almost a year since it's pre-release was announced.

his daughter, however, has a habit of sneaking into her father's room to steal one of the many pairs of shades that your lover wore. she enjoyed "modeling" them, and would flash poses in front of your bedroom mirror while sifting through his collection like they were treasure.

you and satoru have caught her doing this many times before, and while the both of you found it adorable, you realized that your daughter wasn't very careful when handling things.

she scratched the lens of another pair that belonged to her father. bent the temple of a second, which he hasn't been able to fix.

so, when satoru received these specific shades, the two of you sat her down to try and explain that she couldn't freely just loot around his stuff without asking for permission.

right now, those very shades where split into two in his daughter's hands.

satoru's jaw goes slack when he picks them up from her tiny palms, his cheeks tinting a slight red from surprise.

"im sorry, papa," she timidly begs, bringing her now empty hands to cover her eyes. her body heaves, you can see that she is trying really hard not to cry.

satoru allows the shock to settle for only just a minute, before he places the broken sunglasses by his side. there's something else that washes over him - relief.

he circles his arms around her wrists, tugging them away from her face but she keeps them fiercely in place. he chuckles with ease, shaking his head in disbelief as he loosens his grip to grab her waist and pull her into his frame.

"silly girl," he teases. "it's okay, papa's not mad, I promise..."

"but I didn't listen to what you 'n mama said-"

"I know," he sighs calmly, "and you know that was wrong, right? not to listen?"

she nods her head yes, her hands still covering her face.

"Eyes on me, grabby hands..." satoru lectures but she shakes her head no.

"Don't wanna see your scary face," she awkwardly admits, and you can't help but bite back a smile.

she's far too innocent to understand what those expressions. to young to acknowledge that they weren't always bad. that they were, in fact, normal. and that one day she will bare the cross of these complex emotions herself.

"scary face?" satoru huffs, "you think daddy has a scary face?"

she drops her hands to her side swiftly, revealing her guilt and wet cheeks. she furiously shakes her head no, taking in a large inhale as she wipes her face with the back of her hands.

it makes your heart ache watching her try to comprehend the weight of her small feelings.

"nu-uh," she reassures, "but-but sometimes..."

satoru kisses her plush cheek three times over to interrupt her eyes, "I am not mad at you, mochi," he consoles, "just promise you won't do it again."

"pinky swear!" she yelps as she searches for his long, slender digits. the relief brings the color back into her face, the pale sheet of white bloomed with a tiny blush. she hooks her pinky around satoru's, the size different so prominent, before eagerly wrapping her arms around his neck. "m'sorry, papa"

"it's okay, baby," he coos as he kisses her forehead.

the scene is heartwarming, and while satoru maintained his cool, you can still read the disappointment on his face.

the pair slip away from each other's arms, your daughter picking up the broken shades as she patters her way back down the hallway to give you both some privacy.

satoru gets up, his hand clutching his chest as he turns to give you a pathetically sad expression.

"how much does it hurt?" you tease, watching him drag his feet back to you.

you grumble when he collapses into your chest, burying his nose into your neck as he wraps his strong arms around your waist.

"this is the worst heartbreak of my life," he groans obnoxiously, and you raise your own brows in surprise.

"I thought our break up was the worst heartbreak you’ve experienced," you chide, twirling the strands of his soft hair between your fingers.

"seriously? you want to bring that up now? while I'm in mourning?"

you giggle when he sinks his teeth into the delicate flesh of your neck, nipping at your skin tenderly before exhaling with sorrow.

"ugh, she's got me wrapped around her fingers like taffy," he moans like he can’t believe his own defeat, "did you see her face? how can I even get mad?"

"I know, my love," you coo, consoling your own crybaby.

Minutes pass in silence before satoru finally ponders that, "maybe, I can find another pair online or something-"

"papa!" your daughter chirps, interrupting the moment as quickly as she graced it.

satoru untangles himself from your embrace, sitting upright to see her pigtails bouncing as she scampers towards you both. her steps hit the ground fast. he doesn't even have a chance to answer before she climbs on his lap, her eyes still a little glossy from shedding her tears. she wipes away the rogue strands of feathery hairs that stuck to her temple, before showing off what's in her hand.

"I fixed it for you," she beams, her face hopeful and optimistic.

Satoru picks up the glasses from between her fingers, noticing that she had used one of her washy tapes to stick the bridge back together.

It was blue, and had little ducks on it.

You can feel an eruption of laughter bubbling in your chest, but pure love bleeds through Satoru's eyes, completely moved by her gesture.

"Aww, mochi," he gently replies, tracing his thumb over the tape.

He arches forward to kiss her nose, while she seeks another embrace between mumbling into his ear that she loves him.

You simply melt by their side.

Satoru doesn't wear the glasses anymore, but he still keeps them. Bringing them out every once in a while to show his daughter that he still loves them.

Even though they sit quite lopsided on his handsome face.

[requests are closed]

[screampied]

saying “goodnight,” to gojo is one of the worst things you could ever tell him.

some may ask why . . it’s a simple word, a sweet farewell of good dreams if you will. but in this case, perhaps not. just a simple word, a simple word that always knew how to bring the strongest to complete tears.

“goodnight, ‘toru.” you’d murmur, swiftly running your hands through his white tangled strands. he was struggling to keep his eyes open. the calmness of your voice soothed him. cerulean irises stared right back into you before he lets off a soft sigh. his face was so relaxed, he stares into your eyes with his own becoming a bit droopy.

“goodnight,” he’d utter before his eyes briefly closes. “i love you.”

is what you thought he’d say in a moment like this. but even sometimes, reality can be faux. life’s pretty funny, isn’t it.

gojo didn’t like the word ‘goodbye’ simply because it brought back too many hard memories.

he wasn’t one to really explain why, he was more resvered sometimes than anything. he was often too embarrassed to get things off his chest. especially things like this, you did always wonder why though. how sometimes you’d kiss him on the cheek, reaching for the light before uttering off those fatal words of, “goodnight, satoru.”

despite everything though, he always gives you a soft kiss on the lips, murmuring, “sleep well, angel,” instead of goodnight. he’d hold you in his arms, stroking you gently until you fell fast asleep into his arms, where you always belonged.

why was goodnight such an avoidance to gojo’s vocabulary. it was simple, really. a bad experience, a very bad experience actually.

“i don’t like seeing you cry like that,” he’d grumble in a merely defeated voice. he sounded so different, so tired, so … weak. gojo’s voice, it was once so full of life and oh so effervescent. and now, it sounded like he was clinging onto his last and final conclusive breaths—in which he was. “hey, hey. look at me.”

you’d sniffle, glancing at gojo. your eyes were merely blind with your own pathetic tears, everything you saw through your own lens of eyesight was straight blurry. that dumb dorky smile remained plastered on his face despite the circumstances.

the circumstances, gojo satoru had been finally defeated. the strongest, considered as once the strongest, was now lying in your arms, squeezing your wrist as if it’d be the last time he’d touch you. and it would be.

“don’t cry for me. you’re gonna make me cry, silly,” he whispers in a jesting tone, brushing a thumb against the outer part of your hand. you always loved his touch, there was nothing like it. gojo actually for once seemed scared, he was always so good at concealing his emotions—but with you, that was an entire different story.

you could hear the tremble in his voice, his time was rapidly running out, and he just wanted to reassure you, even though perhaps you should have been reassuring him.

“s-satoru,” you’d reply in a shaky voice, you felt an abrupt sharp sting prod through your heart.

you didn’t expect to come to contact with the feeling of heartbreak so soon, but it hit you like a truck. you hated feeling powerless, you couldn’t do anything but just sit here and . . hold his hand.

one … last … time.

“you’ll be okay,” he murmurs, and he lifts up your hand, struggling at first. you’re kneeled down beside him as he lies on the floor. a pool of his own defeat starting to fill from underneath him before he kisses the palm of your hand. “i… i want you to promise me something though. can you do that, angel?”

“y-yes,” you immediately reply, your grip on his hand only growing tighter. suddenly, the air felt so thick and warm—everything felt so out of place. your ears, both of them rang and rang. there was a sting in your heart and it refused to go away. you were experiencing heartbreak at its finest, in slow slow waves.

gojo inhales, and you watch as his pretty lashes flutter at least twice before he says in the most broken, defeated voice you’ve ever heard.

“promise me,” he starts, and you watched as a tear ran down the corner of his eye. even he knew what his fate was coming to, everything was catching up to him and you were sharing the exact dreading emotion. gojo’s eyes flicker up towards you before he sniffles. “promise me, promise me that you’ll be here when i wake up?”

silence—pure silence was your reply, you didn’t know what to say.

but that pure silence only lasted for about three seconds before you nodded, feeling your own tears start to trickle out the crevices of your eyes. “i promise, i’ll be here, i’m always here, ‘toru,” and with a sob nearly escaping your lips, you whimper out a, “i love you.”

“i love you,” he replies with a cheeky grin, and by now he’s really clinging onto his final breaths.

all gojo could focus on was your face, the tears that swelled up through your eyes. he hated seeing you cry, he truly loathed it. with your fingers interlocked with his, gojo says in a soft broken tone, “goodnight, baby.”

“… goodnight, ‘toru.”

but instead of waking up next to gojo like promised, you woke up alone with his side of the bed empty. then reality hit you, he was already gone.

[mindmelter]

A Body Stealer Tale: A Capture To Remember

When I arrived in Italy, I found out my camera was broken from the travel. Frustrated, I wandered through Italy until I found a small, dusty shop tucked between old buildings. Inside, an elderly shopkeeper offered me an old camera model, calling it "special." I was desperate, so I bought it, not realizing just how “special” this camera would actually be.

I’d only been in Italy for a day when I spotted him—an absolute Adonis. I was just wandering through the cobbled streets of the old town, camera in hand, getting lost in the architecture and the vibes, taking photos of every old building I saw. Suddenly, there he was: this hot Italian guy walking alone past me. I couldn’t resist. I knew it was a little risky, but I raised my new camera to grab a quick shot of him without him noticing.

I mean, I would never see him again after that, so I should as well capture the moment to remember.

But then, the moment I pressed the shutter, there was a flash of bright light. It wasn’t from my camera. It was like a white ball of light bursting out from the man's back and zipping straight into my camera, vanishing without a trace.

And before I could even gasp, his whole body crumpled like a pile of clothes, totally hollowed out. I blinked, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. I mean, there was this whole empty Italian guy lying there on the street—skin, hair, face, everything—but no bones, no organs, nothing inside. Just a bodysuit.

I just stood there, completely dumbfounded, staring at the bodysuit that had been a whole man only seconds before. Luckily, there was no one on the street but me, which honestly was a miracle. My heart was racing, but curiosity got the better of me. I glanced around, making sure I was alone, and slowly crouched down, reaching out to touch the hollowed man's face. It was surreal, it felt smooth, soft, and very real, I mean... it was real. As I caressed his stubble beard and admired his slack empty face, I noticed an opening on his nape. Curious, I pulled his sagging head by the hair and noticed a small opening on his back, it was the exact place where the ball of light had come out of him.

An idea popped into my head—completely insane, but somehow, I knew I had to do it. Before I could second-guess myself, I slipped off my shoes and started undressing right there on the sidewalk. Yeah, risky, but I wasn’t gonna let this opportunity slip away.

One leg at a time, I stepped into the suit's open hole, pulling his muscular calves and thighs over my own legs. The fabric—no, the *skin*—wrapped around me like a second layer. I could feel his muscles molding to my shape as I slid my arms into his and finally tugged his handsome face over mine like a mask.

Then… something amazing happened. I could feel the strength of his body taking over, the weight of his muscles filling me up, the opening in his back closing, and even his face settling into place over mine. I wasn’t just wearing him—I *was* him.

I glanced down and saw those fit pecs, those ripped abs, and a big flaccid cock that now belonged to me. The guy was very hung, I thought.

I couldn't help but give my new cock a few strokes. I chuckled at the thought of someone walking and seeing this stud jerking off naked on the street.

But I wasn't in the mood to spend my new hot body in an Italian jail, so I grabbed the man's jeans from the ground and pulled them back up. His wallet fell out of his pocket, so I grabbed it and looked for his ID.

"Luca Moretti, 23 years old," It said.

Well, I guess that's my new name for now, I thought as I put a shirt on.

I grabbed the camera from the ground and looked at the lens, my eyes squinted as I tried to look inside for any sign of life, "Hello? Do you hear me?" I waited for a response and chuckled at how ridiculous I looked talking to a camera. I was about to put it inside my backpack when I heard a distant voice in my head. It was a male voice, and it was screaming in Italian.

"Che cazzo sta succedendo? Non sento più nulla… posso solo vedere attraverso questa maledetta lente! Ma cosa mi è successo? Sono intrappolato qui dentro? Non può essere vero… Aiuto! Qualcuno mi tiri fuori da qui, vi prego!"

I couldn't understand what he was saying—I don't speak Italian! I gazed into the lens, letting a look of gentle compassion soften my new features.

"I'm sorry man, I can't understand what you're saying. But it looks like that's your new home now. Your body is mine and It's going to be so fun being you, I hope you don't have a girlfriend because I'm really going to put this ass to use. But don't worry though, I will make sure you get some company soon."

I put the camera inside my backpack and casually walked away as if I’d always been him. I’d never felt this confident in my life, and proof of that was the huge bulge I proudly displayed in my jeans. This is going to be one unforgettable trip.

Next time, I won't be taking photos of old buildings, but of hot men whose bodies I want to capture.

[ryoshiwaah]

˖ ๋࣭݁ ⭑ Astronomy Lessons 🔭๋࣭⭑.

ᯓ🛸Warnings: a swear word, spelling mistakes and nothing else.

ᯓGenre: fluff, strangers to friends to situationship to idk.

ᯓ🔆Pairing: photographer!Minji x fem!reader

ᯓSynopsis: you're Minji's Sun, muse and best work of art.

ᯓStarring: Haerin as Minji's cousin & Hyein as your little sister.

ᯓ🛰️Word count: 2.9k

a/n: a one shot to feed you guys while we wait for my motivation to bring back Holidays, also the story is heavily inspired by 23.5 (watch it bc it's soooooo good and funny and fluffy), enjoyy!

If Minji was asked how much she loved the Sun on a scale of 0 to 10, she’d say 5, 5.5; sure it helped the plants grow, created the perfect light for photos and much more. The big star was fundamental to humans and the solar system, the whole thing was named after it too!

Spending half of her life in a darkroom thanks to her photography passion, Minji became sensitive to the sun’s light – She wore caps every day to cover her eyes, she bought so many that seeing her without one was odd, plus, she made space in her wardrobe just for them.

The photographer turned into some sort of vampire, worrying not only her poor mother but also her friends.

Though, she never got tired of, or annoyed at her Sun, you.

Minji basked into the light you emanated just by standing next to her, a warm feeling spread through her every time you got close enough for your shoulder to touch hers, or when you picked her up with your Vespa.

The scooter had a bright yellow color that reflected your personality perfectly: it was named “Sunny the third”. Lame, yes, but she found it cute.

“The third” part was added because that was your third scooter: you broke the first one by trying to race your dad’s car and ended up crashing into it, earning a 3 months grounding and a broken arm.

Sunny the second tragically died by the hands of a thief who, just like you, was a clumsy mess and crashed into a pole; the guy lit it on fire to hide the evidence but failed and burned his hand instead.

He was caught in the act and sent to jail for a week.

Let’s just say that now you guard your scooter from everyone and anyone, even the smallest insect will be “gently flicked away”.

Still, you didn’t miss the opportunity to help others, picking them up and driving them around. You were a kind soul that she couldn’t help but admire from behind her camera lens.

She noticed the way you went at a slow pace whenever she was with you, remembering the very first time she hopped on: tense, anxious – you name it.

Panicked screams left her lips when you speeded through the traffic, making sure to balance both of your weights.

The entire ride to school was chaos accompanied by laughter, your laughter, since Minji took her time to recover every now and then before starting to scream again until her lungs were empty.

After parking in front of the building, she immediately got off and thanked you way too many times before remembering she hadn’t introduced herself – “I’m Minji by the way, Kim Minji.”

“I never heard of you, new student?” You said after taking off your helmet, a bright smile on your face.

Your face matched your voice, sweet and adorable. Minji felt uneasy at how fast her heart was beating, it was a surprise her soul didn’t start levitating from how gorgeous you looked – gravity seemed to be pulling it down when you poked her cheek.

“Helloooo, Earth to Minji!”

“Uh- Huh? Yes. I’m new here.”

“Cool! My name is Lee Y/n, nice to meet you.”

From then on you noticed Minji being a constant presence in your life, not only in school but even in your own home: her cousin, Haerin, was a good friend of your little sister Hyein so every time they hung out, the photographer ended up tagging along.

Her parents forced her to go out, otherwise she would spend all day studying and taking pictures, which meant she locked herself in her darkroom and avoided social interaction with everyone.

Eventually things got always too girly for her, so you invited her over to your room, making the younger girls wonder what happened behind the four walls.

You spent your time watching Minji’s camera roll, gushing and praising her about the amazing photos she took; she would blush and tell you she wasn’t that good, but not so secretly loved hearing you compliment her.

The way your eyes lit up when she showed you the new photos she took, or how you would beg her to take a picture of you was hilarious.

“Oh pleaseee!” Your whine rang in her ear while she worked on the new composition, adjusting the settings of her camera.

“No, Y/n, my life already revolves much around you, stop asking.”

That made you slap the back of her head, a move that she expected since she mindlessly avoided it.

“That’s not true! We barely see each other anymore…”

“We saw each other yesterday and the day before, and the day before the day befo–”

“Okay! Okay! I get it geez.” You scoffed, bringing your knees over on the table you were sitting on, leaning against the wall behind you.

As Minji took pictures of the various objects scattered on the table, claiming that it was contemporary art, you just looked around the room of the photography club: all the artworks of the members were stuck to the wall, creating a cozy atmosphere.

Haerin’s main topic was cats, of course, your friend’s cousin was obsessed with the felines and took pictures whenever she saw one. But a few of them portrayed a girl with curly hair, smiling brightly at the camera.

Hanni’s side of the wall was funny and covered in polaroids, the dates written in red while the notes were in black, some of them were with loved ones, probably family members, some of herself and others of food.

“She could be an influencer.” You mumbled to yourself, before taking a look at Minji’s corner, skipping the other 3 columns of pictures before her.

You felt like witnessing the whole universe before you. 

There were photos of the moon, stars and constellations; Minji had connected the stars with a light blue pen and wrote the names in the corner. The only thing missing was a picture of the sun.

You knew she didn’t like being exposed to it, she had glasses because her eyes couldn’t adjust well to the light, so you guessed that was the reason why she didn’t have a photo of it.

Speaking of sunlight, the right side of your face started to feel hotter due to the light coming from the window. You closed your eyes, enjoying the warm feeling of the rays on your skin.

‘Click’

The familiar sound made you turn to Minji who was pointing the camera towards you, a faint smile making its way to her lips; you saw that expression tons of times, it was the same face she made after taking a good picture. The satisfaction etched in her eyes.

An inaudible gasp left your lips after realizing what happened: after months of begging, Minji finally took a picture of you with her camera, not her phone, her beloved camera!

You looked at the photographer with wide eyes, not knowing if you were dreaming or not.

“Minji?” You asked incredulously, as if she had grown a second head, your body shifting so it leaned closer to hers. Your faces were inches away, noses almost touching.

“Did you really just take a picture of me??”

“No.”

And then she turned back, working on her previous task.

“No? I heard the cick and you were pointing your camera at me.”

“Nope, I think being exposed to the sun kills your brain cells.”

“Wha–”

“Here.”

She interrupted you by sticking her cap on top of your head, changing the size from behind since your head was smaller than hers.

“There there…” She smiled, her dimples showing, as she patted your head. “You should be okay now.”

An exasperated sigh left your lips before you slumped back against the wall, now letting your legs loosely swing from on top of the table. You were rethinking the interaction because where on Earth did that make sense?!

Luckily for Minji, you forgot about the picture the next hour and were too bored to do anything at all, just wanting your friend to clock out from the club.

An hour later you two were out, your body feeling heavy from the sleepiness. “Note to self, never accompany Minji for club activities ever again.”

“Are you sure you can drive?”

Minji’s husky voice snapped you out of your daze. Already knowing where this was going, you reached into your pockets and tossed the taller girl your keys. She caught them with a fond smile before picking you up and sitting you on the scooter.

“I could have climbed it up myself, you know?”

Oh, how that sleepy voice made Minji feel all fuzzy and glad she was alive to hear it, a small thought made its way through her mind: what if one day she would be able to hear it every morning when she woke up… that’d be perfect.

She started humming happily while switching the cap she gave you with the helmet, securing it so it wouldn’t fall off.

“Happy?”

“Hmhm.”

“What made you happy?”

“A sleepy girl that I’m driving home.”

She said casually before thrusting forward and turning on the bike, taking off and heading to your house.

Your arms were secured around her waist and your head was resting on her back; it didn’t take long before you fell asleep, holding tighter on your gir– friend. On your friend.

“Saturn is Haerin’s favorite, I think it’s a basic answer.”

“And why’s that, my dear astronomer?”

It was a Friday night, Minji just crashed at your house like usual and you were discussing planets after staring at your ceiling for too long. It had the planets and some stars scattered around so the conversation started naturally.

“Nowadays Saturn is so mainstream, ugh, people like it for its aesthetic.”

“You’re too harsh, Y/n.”

“What? It’s your favourite planet too?”

Minji scoffed, gently pushing you away from her but you rolled towards her body, making sure that the side of your heads were touching.

“I’ll let you know that I don’t have a favourite planet… They’re just balls in space.”

“It’s like saying that your photos are just colored pieces of paper.”

Your hand wrapped around her wrist, making sure her finger was pointing up at the ceiling, towards Venus. 

“That’s Venus, Taurus’ ruling planet.” then you pointed to another one, making Minji shriek from the suddenness of the movement. “And that’s Mars, Scorpio’s ruling planet.”

You let her arm go, as it rests on the ground again. She’s silent for a few seconds, thinking of what your words meant. You talked about you two’s zodiac signs, there must be a reason.

“Uh… thank you for letting me know?”

You turned your head towards Minji, raising an eyebrow. Why was she acting like she didn’t know about the planets? Her photos were all about astronomy and space.

Plus, you didn’t spend the entire month trying to get all the names right just for her to be unaware of what you were talking about.

“You don’t get it?”

“I fear I don’t, sorry.” The look on her face turned into a sad one when she saw the hope slowly fading from your eyes, but then, a wholehearted laugh left her speechless.

All you could do was exactly that, laugh and slowly roll on the carpet as the realization hit you: all those hours studying to impress Minji were for nothing, because, apparently, the photographer barely knew what zodiac signs and ruling planets were.

“Your photos…” You began as the giggles began to quiet down, leaving you breathless and Minji scared she might have just watched you have a manic episode over heavens knows what.

“Moon phases, the constellations, the stars. I thought you knew all about astronomy.”

Then it hit Minji, it was like a lightbulb turned on in her peanut brain; she sat up and looked down at you.

“Don’t tell me you know all of this because you were trying to impress me.” 

She used the same tone a parent would use when scolding their kid, but decorated with a hint of amusement. Minji was incapable of imagining someone putting so much effort for her, but knowing that you, out of all people, did that, made her whole day and probably year.

In response you remained glued to the wooden ground, staring at the planets on your ceiling, hoping they could tell you what to do, now that your information was useless for the both of you.

“I learned all that for nothing!” You whined, your feet kicking the ground while you threw your little tantrum.

At first Minji chuckled, but then she thought about it and shook your shoulder, making you glare at her. 

“Teach me the secrets of astronomy, I want to understand, no matter how long it takes.”

The astronomy lessons went on for weeks. Even if they were only an excuse to spend more time together, Minji started learning for real, surprising you: not only she was a fast learner, but she was actually interested in the topic.

It was regenerating talking to someone who was so willing to listen, that’s why you never lost a chance to mention even the smallest detail.

You spent so much time together that Minji started to call you her Sun, while only in your mind you thought of her as your Moon; you’d stare at her hoping she would catch you and call you out on it, but instead, your best friend was always focused on the teacher.

Or, in general, something else that wasn’t you.

The probability that you and Minji weren’t aligned anymore made you doubt your own feelings towards her – You noticed it on a wednesday, while eyeing the lunch lady give out food to your sister and Haerin, the cat-like girl talked about her cousin’s birthday coming up.

Your train of thought drifted from the kimbap you were going to ask for, to the photographer, way too quickly.

“3 Kim Minji please…”

The lunch lady raised an eyebrow, already fed up with you. “You mean kimbap.”

“That’s what I said…”

With a roll of her eyes she almost tossed at you your 3 miserable kimbap and called for the next one in line. Confused but not in the mood to deal with old women, you decided to just walk away, food in your hands.

“You said my name, moron.”

The familiar voice startled you, almost making the rice rolls fall from your grip, but you weren’t so careless with food, thankfully.

“Did I– Oh shit, I did.” You blushed after recollecting yourself and your train of thoughts.

“You think about me so much it messes up your social interactions, what a loser.” 

“I overheard your cousin talking about your upcoming birthday and you popped in my mind, miss stubborn.”

“All excuses!” She grinned smugly, now getting in front of you. How she got so dangerously close you didn’t know, but damn she looked good: her hair was put up in a messy bun, while she had a jacket over her school uniform.

Her face was naturally beautiful, but what attracted your eyes were her plump lips.

Before you knew it, she pecked your forehead, stole the kimbap you started eating and ran away, leaving you in the middle of the canteen – a blushing, gay panicking mess, standing there with food in her hands.

The more time passed, the more you started to doubt your knowledge. It seemed like the Sun’s orbit changed, making it move around the now static Moon.

Your infatuation became stronger every day, and you couldn’t deny that Minji felt the same too. But when was she going to make a move, or maybe, when were you going to do something about the growing tension?

Haerin was tired of hearing her cousin ramble for hours about you, she swore Minji said your name so many times that she lost count, even of how many times she spaced out.

Things got worse when you bought the photographer a new camera for her birthday, making her promise to take more photos of you. And she did, of course she did.

If months before you had to beg her on your knees to even turn her camera towards you, now it was the complete opposite; it seemed like she had no other subject to snap photos of than you.

Of course, you thought she was just sticking to her word, her promise, but deep inside you were aware that Minji’s behaviour shifted since her birthday. None of them had the guts to confront one another, so the situation remained…questionable.

To her though, you’d become more than a simple Sun; you were art, her constant inspiration and muse, the deep feelings she nurtured for you could be seen in her photos and the dedication she put in them. 

She spent hours editing out and in anything that could make you the center of the picture, even if that meant learning how to use photoshop, she’d do it for you.

The only person that didn’t notice all of that was the protagonist of the works, you.

Only the ones stopping by for a visit could notice that Minji’s corner changed completely, displaying only certain photos, that of course were space related, carefully arranged around the best snaps she took of Y/n.

A detail, one that could blow up Minji’s aloof and careless facade, exposing her feelings to the world, was the little sentence written at the corner of the photo at the very center.

“My Sun”

Once again, the photographer found herself reconsidering her opinion about the protagonist of the solar system, seeing her reflection into the picture of the Moon that just like Earth, found herself orbiting around the Sun.

🗂️ NJZ masterlist

[revelboo]

(Or Madam) Tfp Shockwave 🥺 if you have the inspiration and or inclination to write for him? Also I hope you had a fantastic birthday!!! 🎂 🎈 🎁 ironically it was your birthday and you’ve been giving all of us gifts 😂 I thank thee very much!

You’re welcome! My family doesn’t really do parties or make big deals about birthdays, so I tend to just treat it like any other day 😁

Point of Extinction Pt 2

TFP Shockwave x Reader

• Slowly, that disconnect rattling about in his processor eases and he can move again. What’s the next step? Stick to the routine. Logical steps. Venting, he retrieves his data pad and a scanner. Reaches into the box to lift you out and place you on the exam counter where you huddle, trembling. Eyes darting around for a way to escape. There is none and he watches your shoulders sag as you realize that. Accept it. When he lifts the scanner, you tense like you’re considering flinging yourself off the counter anyway. “Will it hurt?” You ask him, soft voice breaking.

• I’m not supposed to be here. It hurts. Were those his words? He’s not sure, but his antenna flick back as that disquiet stirs. “No,” he says as he thumbs on the scanner and uses the end of his cannon to nudge you. Not a lie, this won’t hurt. But other experiments will. “Stand, Thirteen.”

• You want to correct him, tell him that’s not your name, but feel like you’ll come apart if you try to speak again. Just start bawling and be unable to stop. Reaching out a hand to use the muzzle of that cannon at the end of his arm to pull yourself up, you feel it when he flinches at the touch. Antenna on the sides of his helm folding even further back like the ears of an affronted cat. As soon as you’re on your feet he turns the thing in his hand on you and green light plays over you. It doesn’t hurt and you obediently turn for him so he can scan you. Is this why he took you? Just curious about humans? This… this is okay.

• You’re staring up at him, those intelligent eyes watching his every move. His other lab animals hadn’t looked at him that way, hadn’t understood anything but the pain. Wishes you wouldn’t look at him. That jangling sense of something he can’t understand is still there. The same unpleasant, illogical feeling that had welled up when he’d been brought prisoners on Cybertron. What might be guilt. It’s hard to be sure when he experiences the world around him through a cold, numb lens of dispassionate logic. Knowing something is wrong with him, but unable to remember exactly what. Almost remembered things, broken memories he can’t even claim as his shouldn’t affect him. It’s illogical. He’s still for so long aside from the faint tremor as he tries to sort everything into things he’s certain are real and the murky memories he can’t understand or quite recall. Doesn’t realize you’ve moved until he feels that little hand on the end of his cannon again. Helm tipping down as you look up at him. “Are you okay?”

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[dragonowl]

Pathcode: Light Through a Broken Lens

The Sky That Doesn't End: Part 2 Masterlist Genre: EXO AU, Mystery Rated: PG Summery: Exo has scattered. Now in hiding after the Red Force closed in on them and Luhan went missing. Baekhyun finds himself in a small town while he waits until they can reunite again. Guarded after everything that has taken place, he’s not looking for friendship, or anything else, until a light shines through, even as the darkness closes around them.

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Chapter 2: Tao: Barcelona, Spain, 10:09

Voices. Whispers and quiet conversations mixed easily with the sound of the buzzing machinery and soft piano music. The scent of roasting beans and brewing coffee was rich and wafted around Tao like a warm hug, reminding him of the early school mornings and Xiumin’s passion for fine coffee. He’d nearly chosen the traditional hot chocolate and churros for breakfast, but the homesickness that hit him after smelling the coffee had changed his mind. 

Bringing the warm glass to his lips, he paused and then quickly placed it down as he lifted up the morning’s paper. A small section near the base of the newspaper’s front page caught his attention and he quickly flipped through the pages to find the full article. 

His heart stuttered as he processed the words that made him feel sick. A light flickered and his eyes shot up just as a bulb shattered. He brought the newspaper up to protect himself from the flying debris as he flinched at the noise, but the debris never hit. The cafe went silent instead of beginning to clammer at the danger, and he looked around to find the cause.

His breath caught when he realized he’d frozen time without even realizing it. 

The hold he had was wavering though and he knew he needed to get out. The Red Force had found a way to track them down and using his powers would likely narrow down their search parameters if they had the right tech. Chen hadn’t been able to determine how they had been found, but he and Suho had cautioned against using their powers in case that had been the cause.

He rushed out of the cafe in a daze, trying to ground himself enough to find his way back to the small room he was staying in. After what felt like forever he made his way back and stumbled multiple times as he ran up the flight of stairs and through the door, gaze darting around to keep an eye on his surroundings. 

Once inside he rushed to grab his bags and throw in any essentials he had left lying around. He tried to make a mental list as he double and triple-checked everything. Unable to handle being there any longer, he prayed he had everything that couldn’t be replaced. He’d need to go by the public locker and grab a different ID and some money, and then maybe take a train to another city to fly out of. Deciding on his next location in the moment would hopefully throw off any tail he might have. Something completely random. 

Slinging his bags over his shoulders, he exited the small space and quickly made his way down the stairs and outside to the sidewalk.

Someone collided with him, his fast pace and height making him completely miss their presence.

“I’m sorry,” he stumbled, arm encircling the young woman to keep her from falling.

“It’s okay,” she said, her hands fully grabbing his arms to steady herself. “You should pay more attention to your surroundings though. You could get hurt.”

A chill washed over him at her words and he tried to see her face, but she had kept her head bowed. She let go of one of his arms and grabbed the other tightly before he could move and he winced when there was a sudden prick, immediately followed by what felt like fire in his veins. Stumbling back, he found a purchase against the brick wall and dropped his bags as his head erupted in pain, making him drop to his knees. He cradled his head in his hands as the pain drowned out his other senses and his breathing became labored. It ended as quickly as it started and he slumped against the wall, his arms falling to his sides in exhaustion. Tao blinked at the young woman standing over him, but his eyes were too blurry to make out her features and drooped closed as he fell into unconsciousness. 

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[partfae]

Sauron, Galadriel, & Tolkien's Theology of Repentance - Part One

Summary: Character meta analysis on Sauron (and Galadriel, through the lens of Sauron). Based on both Silmarillion & RoP canon. 3.5k words. Discussion of Catholic theology involved. Blanket TW for discussion of violence, manipulation, etc., because Sauron. Spoilers for S1 & S2 and the Silmarillion, of course. The tragedy of Sauron is that he gets offered so many legitimate chances at redemption and forgiveness, and he denies them every single time. But we know he wants absolution, because that’s what he sees Galadriel as: his chance to bind himself back to the light, to be Mairon again, to heal the pain that he caused and that was caused to him under Morgoth. But because he has such a warped view of himself and his actions, he dismisses genuine extensions of compassion, forgiveness, and care as simultaneously beneath him and too good for him. And yet, he still pursues redemption, but through none of the channels offered to him.

In The Rings of Power, he’s given the explicit instruction to change for the good in the village after he’s reborn. He’s given the chance leave his past behind and work meaningfully in Númenor. He’s given the chance to redeem himself by Galadriel's offer of friendship (or love, depending on your interpretation). In the Silmarillion, he's even given the chance by Eönwë himself, and comes close to leaving Morgoth behind completely!

Let's look at this passage from Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age (emphasis mine):

When Thangorodrim was broken and Morgoth overthrown, Sauron put on his fair hue again and did obeisance to Eönwë the herald of Manwë, and abjured all his evil deeds. And some hold that this was not at first falsely done, but that Sauron in truth repented, if only out of fear, being dismayed by the fall of Morgoth and the great wrath of the Lords of the West. But it was not in the power of Eönwë to pardon those of his own order, and he commanded Sauron to return to Aman and there receive the judgement of Manwë. Then Sauron was ashamed, and he was unwilling to return in humiliation to receive from the Valar a sentence, it might be, of long servitude in proof of his good faith; for under Morgoth his power had been great. Therefore when Eönwë departed he hid himself in Middle-earth; and he fell back into evil, for the bonds that Morgoth had laid upon him were very strong.

This passage is clear that Eönwë is willing to pardon Sauron--he simply did not posses the power to do so. But when Sauron was told he must appeal directly Manwë, he gave up entirely and skulked back to Middle-earth. There are a few ways to read this:

1. He was not wholly repentant

Sauron simply wanted the protection of a new master in the absence of Melkor. i.e., he was rather fickle and simply wanted to be on whatever the "winning" side was. This is supported by the text literally saying that at least some of his obeisance was completely false, and that he only made a point of feeling bad about anything once his master had been chucked into the Void and his armies and strongholds were being destroyed (Thangorodrim). In this reading, perhaps Eönwë saw Sauron's treachery and referred him to Manwë knowing that it would be a test of his true intent. However, while a valid interpretation, I believe this to be the less holistic of the two.

2. He was truly repentant

Sauron did truly feel badly and "abjured all his evil deeds," but he was unwilling/unable to humble himself after being so fundamentally broken by Melkor and developing an insatiable power lust (hey, he isn't defined in the narrative by lust and pride for nothing).

Earlier in this same chapter, Tolkien wrote that Sauron could "...deceive all but the most wary." This is in the specific context of his physical shapeshifting. But, I would argue that this can also be tied to his lies. Tolkien has a specific ethic of beauty, where physical perfection is equated with moral goodness. Sauron completely inverts what is otherwise a hard and fast rule within Tolkien's writings by being the character most frequently described as "fair"--seven times to Lúthien's six, and she was the most beautiful woman to have ever lived!

(Side note: I have another post on Tolkien & beauty in the works where I'll get more into this idea)

Why does this matter? Even though this interaction with Eönwë takes place in the First Age, Sauron could at this point be in the demonic form Mirdania describes in the forge. And, I am inclined to believe that Eönwë, as the head Maiar and herald of Manwë, would be a pretty wary guy, and thus able to sense any of Sauron's trickery. I read this to mean that Eönwë looked at Sauron and saw his potential to be Mairon again, either in absence of his evil form or in spite of it.

Because Sauron is incredibly beautiful. And even if it is a disguise of the true, depreciated form of his spiritual essence, he presented himself to Eönwë at his most beautiful. He wanted, even in his act of repentance, to make himself more favorable in Eönwë's eyes. To show up as Mairon (who was likely close friends with Eönwë before everything went down, since they are considered to be two of the most powerful Maia and would have worked closely together).

But I don't think this was all manipulation on Sauron's end. I agree with the scholars mentioned in the text who believed that Sauron was truly repentant--which is why Eönwë even bothered referring him to Manwë instead of kicking him into the Void with Melkor.

And this is the tragedy: Sauron is told exactly how to repent, and believes fundamentally that it is an impossible path for him. And yet, he still longs so intrinsically for it! He was, under Aulë, a Maia of precision, perfection, and order. Under Morgoth, he feels disordered, dis-regulated. He needs to correct the fundamental imbalance within him, so why does he flee Eönwë?

It comes back to Sauron's pride.

If he follows through with this path of reconciliation, there is no way he can hide or pretend his actions away. If he cannot trick his fellow Maiar, he certainly cannot trick the Valar. And he cannot stand the idea of submitting himself back under their rule, especially now that he has tasted power. This is a pride wound; it is why the idea of confessing to Manwë would be humiliating to him as opposed to just upsetting/uncomfortable.

Again, the pivotal moment: he is told how to make amends for crimes and determines that he cannot do it. So he returns to Middle-earth and stews in his own self-hated and self-pity for a few years. In that time, he consciously or subconsciously latches onto Eönwë's offer--forgiveness from penance. It is the way forward. And if he cannot earn penance at Manwë's hand, he will do it on his own.

The Prodigal Son

This is where we have to talk about the Catholic roots of Tolkien's work for a moment. The scene where Sauron approaches Eönwë mirrors the biblical parable of the prodigal son. In this story, a man abandons his family, spends all his money, and falls into ruin. But when he recognizes his failings and returns to his father to get help, he is welcomed back into the family without question--in other words, he is forgiven and restored to his former position.

17 But when he [the prodigal son] came to himself he said, “How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! 18 I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.’” 20 So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. - Luke 15:11-32, NRSV CE (emphasis mine)

The parallel is clear; Mairon, the repentant Maia, returns home with hopes of reconciliation. He is prescribed the same task that the prodigal son offered to his father: he must be bound in servitude to his father/creator in order to pay off his debts. This is a deliberate allusion from Tolkien. The story of the prodigal son models the path of reconciliation that Eönwë describes. Tolkien seems to be drawing a line in the sand with this: Sauron is unwilling to do the work required by the Valar for repentance, so he is unable to receive the grace of a warm welcome back into the fold of the Ainur. Since he did not humble himself, he has to be told to do it. And he does not want to! He wants to be loved, but he also wants his power--evidence, in a way, of how his character was fundamentally altered in his time with Morgoth.

His pride--and his fear--cut him off from the potential of grace. He does not know for certain that Manwë would subject him to servitude (though I would argue that it's textually evident that it is a custom), but this assumption leads him to flee, which allows him to slip back into his old ways.

He wants to be Mairon (admirable) again, not Sauron (abhorrent). He wants to be accepted and loved, but not punished. He wants the benefits of reconciliation without the work he would have to do to earn it or the shame he would feel as he did. It's pride, but it's also deep shame--the flip side of his extreme ego is an implicit self-hatred, one that we can see in the subtext of how he speaks about himself and about his time with Morgoth.

Even the language Tolkien uses is heavily shame-coded, especially in a Catholic context; Mairon did not go willingly, he was "seduced." He admits to Celebrimbor that he was "tortured by a god". It becomes exceedingly clear through both text and on-screen canon that Sauron was routinely broken and abused for centuries. This has fundamentally damaged his self-perception, which is ultimately what leads him to "[fall] back into evil"--whether due to pride or shame, he hides, perhaps because he consciously or subconsciously does not believe that he deserves forgiveness, no matter how much he craves it.

Naked in the Garden

His flight back to Middle-earth after meeting Eönwë is reminiscent of another biblical scene, where Adam and Eve, after committing the first sin, hide from God in shame and fear (emphasis mine):

7 Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked...9 But the Lord God called to the man, and said to him, “Where are you?” 10 He said, “I heard the sound of you in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked; and I hid myself.” -Genesis 7-10, NRSV CE

The image of nakedness is, here, one of vulnerability, and Tolkien establishes that Sauron fears that which he cannot control. He needs the Rings under his power. He needs his armies and his enemies under his watchful eye. He is petrified of letting his power slip away (possibly due to never wanting to feel powerless in the hands of a Vala, fallen or not, again).

The biblical allusion here hearkens back to the fear Tolkien describes Sauron as feeling regarding his return to the Ainur. In the religious system Tolkien has established, which is likely inspired by his own religious beliefs, Sauron has sinned, and must make penance. But he is afraid of God/Manwë, and does not want to "let go" of his sin. In other words, he is not truly repentant. This reflects the Catholic sacrament of confession, which requires self-reflection and resolve to never commit the sin again.

Instead of shame driving him to contrition, it drives him to isolation.

But he still wants forgiveness. So, in his years of hiding in Middle-earth, he decides to earn it himself. His own way.

Enter the Rings.

Sauron wants to perfect the wrong he wreaked so that he can both earn his way back into the Ainur and keep his power. But what he does not realize is that this does not work. Eönwë is clear that he must forsake his true temptation--absolute power--through penance by submission. Yet Sauron in his pride thinks he can have it all. Sauron is a very carefully controlled villain, and the only times he snaps or makes significant mistakes are when his inflated self-perception is challenged, revealing the self-loathing and/or self-pity underneath. The best example of this is when he kills Celebrimbor prematurely, and cries afterwards. Why? Because Celebrimbor was right about him, and he hates it. He hates knowing that he is nothing more than the Morgoth's shadow, because Morgoth was his master as much as he was his tormentor. As Sauron puts it, his relationship with Morgoth was often defined by pain as a test to see "whose will was the mightier":

This image carries more shame, both in its implicit sexual connotations and in the simple power dynamic of it. Sauron, even though misguided, is rallying against Morgoth. He wants to break what Morgoth has created and build something new, something better, something apart from his old master entirely. But Celebrimbor confronts him with reality: he has not created something new, and perfect, and special, as he so wanted to--he can only act in imitation, not in generation. And when he got close with the Rings, it cost him everything. It's almost like he wants the power of a Vala, and loathes that he cannot attain it.

And this is why he becomes so singularly obsessed with Galadriel.

She’s his foil. They both crave power and adoration, but in the end of things, she does not fold under his temptation. She turns down everything she has ever wanted for the greater good and for the sake of her own soul. Sauron looks at Galadriel and perceives that she would have succeeded at Eönwë's test because she is willing and able to humble herself. This maddens him to the point of both desiring her and desiring to break her.

She learns that she is easily tempted and becomes strong enough to handle it (through a lot of tough love from Elrond & co.). She has to learn how to do it, but she is able to.

She grows from someone who resisted and rejected authority to someone who is trusted as an authority because of her ability to wield it wisely (see: Gil-galad allowing her to answer for him in 2x08).

In other words, she earns the trust, love, and support of her community. Sauron has to force his to comply—it is an illusion of love.

His possessive obsession with her also stems from her fairness. She was the object of her uncle Fëanor's obsessive desire for creation as well. Her hair was the inspiration of the Silmarils (see: The History of Galadriel and Celeborn; The Shibboleth of Fëanor - source with page #s here), which Morgoth desired more than anything to possess.

Sauron, wanting to spite his master, wants one better--to own that which inspired the Silmarils, to own the image of fairness (and thus of moral good) completely. This is why he wants to bind himself to her. This is why he needs her. He sees Galadriel as his mechanism of repentance, and his last triumph over Morgoth. Winning her is his salvation as much as it is proving that his will is the mightier. It is his way of dominating Morgoth. This starts, I think, as a genuine effort at proving himself to the Valar, but quickly consumes him entirely. He is overcome with the desire for revenge, just as Galadriel was at the beginning of the First Age.

And he sees this in her. Sees their similarities. Sees that she, too, is angry and lonely and so afraid of losing her power. And he leverages that to befriend her. This is where it gets ambiguous and you can read RoP as either painting the image of Sauron being earnest but completely misguided in his proposal, or you can see it as him being entirely manipulative.

I think the truth of that scene probably falls somewhere in the middle; just like when he presents himself to Eönwë, he is sincere in his desire, but only knows how to present it in an inherently contriving way. He does want to bind her to him, so he tries to only reveal to her the good aspect of that desire (and also of his desire for power, which he allows her to see because he believes that it is good and also because she understands it), and not the ugly underside of his internal struggle against Morgoth, the Valar, and himself.

And I do think, in his own way, he cared about her. Galadriel consistently shows kindness and compassion to him. In S1, they grow to know each other's minds and souls, and she considers him a close friend. He finds comfort in this, that someone could see the blackness of his heart and care for him anyway. He thought, in his isolation, that he lost that chance when he fled back to Middle-earth. And here is the very picture of the light itself telling him that she supports him, that she sees the good in him, that she wants to help him set the world to rights! Of course he is infatuated by this. Of course he also wants to use it. He is Sauron.

But Galadriel succeeds where he fails, so he stops playing nice and tries to forcibly drag her down with him. First, by baiting her with the image of the man she cared deeply for:

Then, by reminding her of all she is losing by rejecting him:

And she is still strong enough to say no. And not just to say no, but to shut the door completely. To look in the face of everything she has desired for centuries and turn it down, understanding that it will ruin her. Yes, she hesitates. Yes, she still wants it (wants him). But she wins the day by holding fast to the light that Sauron wishes so badly to bind himself to.

Because she has lost everything--her brother, her husband, the station as commander, the trust of her high king and best friend--and earns it back only through her resistance of her greatest temptation. It is a struggle, it is painful, it nearly kills her--but she does it. She wins the test that Sauron could not even bear to face.

In their headlong, self-sacrificial tendencies, they are the same. Both view themselves as fundamentally stronger/better than their peers while also being deeply lonely due to their self-imposed isolation (Galadriel's laser-focused hunt for revenge, Sauron's exile in Middle-earth). But to Galadriel, the light is more important than her pride.

For Sauron, the light is his source of pride. He desires it more than anything, but condemns himself to never being able to touch it due to his rejection of Eönwë's offer. Paradoxically, he tries to grasp at it through Galadriel, the living silmaril, and succeeds only in darkening her. We learn from Gil-galad in 2x08 that his crown piercing her flesh in an act of brutal domination nearly strips her soul from her and pitches it into the unseen world. In this, Sauron is saying: If I cannot have you, I will force you to need me. I will break you into loving me.

He says this to Celebrimbor as well. He no longer knows how to love properly. He only knows how to inflict pain until this object of his obessive desire needs him--just like how his immortal spirit was broken into submission by Morgoth. And isn't this revealing of his own sense of self? He refuses to suffer the path of light, but willingly suffers the maddening path of darkness because it is a comfortable, familiar suffering. One, he tells Celebrimbor, he even grew to enjoy (2x08). As the path of the Rings drive him madder and madder, his desire for the light (Galadriel) and the return of his power (Celebrimbor) become further disordered and corrupted until they culminate in him destroying them--and his chance at earning/owning them--entirely.

And this is Sauron's ultimate point of no return (which we will hopefully see in S3 🤞). The razing of Eregion and slaying of Celebrimbor were acts of petty rage he committed when his pride was injured. This was the final nail in the coffin. Galadriel, in her rejection of him, ruins what he sees as his true chance for redemption.

Galadriel, now stepping into the role of Eönwë, re-opens the invitation: "Heal yourself!" (2x08). But in rage and shame and stubborn pride, he turns it down again. I believe this is where his desire to heal Middle-earth shifts fundamentally into desire to dominate Middle-earth. He always wanted to rule, but now he wants to own.

[amoristt]

yummy (adrenaline)

「 ✦nam-gyu/reader ✦ 」 tags: sfw // fluff kinda?, drxg use, mentions of d/eath,

a/n: this is hardly proof read dont come for me pleeeease. i love this dude so bad UGH i hope u guys enjoy >:) word count: 2.3k

・❥・your blood is a boiling cocktail, searing hot underneath your skin and coursing through your nervous system in pulsating waves. you had expected the visual effects of thanos's pills- all the paint on the walls swirling and the lights fading out before exploding in all directions, your focus fuzzing out and blacking with broken receptors. what you hadn’t expected was the unending feed of pure, unrivaled joy funneled directly into the bowl of your brain. jitters and eager twitches, fingers itching to clutch whatever's closest by, body ready to go at the drop of a dime. 

the music is swelling into blooms of melody in your ears, only sliced by the sound of thanos and nam-gyu's laughter next to you. all else drowned out, all faces a blur of unremarkably dull features. there's an eternal grin on your face, nam-gyus hand is gripping your own and keeping tethered to him, a boat hitched to the dock rocking with the washing wakes. thanos is dancing in the corner of your eye, shining like a beacon. laughter from all angles, smiling faces swirling, beautiful bright lights building the outlines of your friends.  

the platform lurches to an abrupt stop.

four.

shit, how many was four again?

neon purple is flashing before your eyes in clips, a chaotic hysteria breaking out everywhere you turned. thanos’s voice rings through all the sudden commotion.

“let’s go!” 

you’re bounding off the platform, dodging the storm of people running every which way, barely managing to hurdle over a few who had fallen onto the floor during their flights to secure a room. your friends dive into a room glowing in baby blue and you follow them blindly inside, running into the wall and bouncing off with your palms breaking your collision. 

surely, there would be a member of your little group missing- but which one? the timid player 125, or the too-cool player 380? through the lens of drugs, blurry and rapid, you spin around to see who’d made it.

“oh! min-su!” you plant your hands on his shoulders and he manages this lopsided uptick of his lips, some sort of anxious smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. such a skittish creature. thanos slings an arm around his neck and drags him from your grasp, roughly pulling him into a loose hug that min-su isn't eager to return. 

“i’d never leave my boy!” after patting the smaller males chest hard enough to push him backwards, he ruffles his hair.

“totally threw se-mi out, that was cold!” nam-gyu jeers. “i was impressed!”

gunshots ring out, the sound bouncing off the walls through the tiny opening in the locked door. it should remind you that death waits around every corner, but it doesn’t- partly because of the drugs, but mostly because your heart is beating too fast in your ear and nam-gyu’s snaked his hand around your waist with his palms flat to your hip. 

the door unlocks and thanos throws it open, tossing both arms over his head with a loud cheer as he passed through the frame. min-su leaves much more pathetically, with his ears down flat and his tail tucked between his legs. you, on the other hand, practically skip out into that large room splattered with blood and misery, and you’re towing nam-gyu along by his ringed fingers as you do. 

you don’t realize how much the bubble of people standing along the platform has dwindled. it’s hard to even care to realize it, lost in this dream-like frenzy.

children's voices flood your ears until you’re lost in the music again. you feel it in your skin, in your teeth, in these waves of electric euphoria skittering under your fingertips and within the confines of your skull. there’s something tugging you, hooking around your arm and suddenly you’re linked by the elbows and thanos is prancing in circles until you’re dancing with him. all tensions, all fear, all else but joy leaves your body and your mind. you’re unlinked and floating until you’re caught by nam-gyu and now he’s got you and you’re laughing more than you think you have in your entire life.

he’s still got you when the platform rumbles to a stop and the lights flicker off into explosive flashes of purples and pink all over again.

three.

you’re on the move before you get the chance to realize min-su is the odd man out. you barely even know that it’s trios, if you’re being honest, and you’re thrown into a room bathed in green lights. by the time you turn around to look, the door is already slammed shut. 

you, thanos, nam-gyu…

“oh no! min-su!” you frown, this deeply settled pang of loss only hardly registered with the drugs pumping full throttle through your system. you’re so out of your mind that you think taking anything seriously right now would be damn near impossible.

“i’ll miss him.” thanos puts his hand to his heart and fakes a pout, but you can see the way his lips twitch into an uptick. 

“man, he was a fucking loser.” 

nam-gyu’s voice lulls you to him, draws your attention like a sailor to a siren. he’s this overtaking, bouncy and effervescent presence before you, all colors and grins that you can’t tear your gaze from. you’re entranced by him just merely standing there and you only realize you’re outright staring with these big, blown out pupils when he lowers himself to your height and stares right back with this equally as giddy smile. 

“what’s with that face?” he snickers, and he nudges you back by your shoulder affectionately, the amusement in his tone more than evident. you giggle. 

“i’m just looking!” 

the buzzer rings out, along with about a dozen or so gunshots, but you’re so gone that you aren’t even registering anything other than the way nam-gyu is beaming down at you. the very aura around him is calling to you, urges you to come closer, to find him beside you always, no matter what. 

“you two!” thanos’s english demands your line of sight to him. he’s pulling the door open peeking outside. “next round!”

there’s a skip to both of their steps, this gravity defying sense of intoxicated glee bringing you all the way back to the platform, ignoring the rich sea of disdain and woeful expressions surrounding you. 

“oh! my boy! im sorry!” thanos cheers, and you peer over your shoulder just in time to see him gripping min-su by the fabric of his shirt and dragging him into an overbearing hug. the smaller male grimaces, and sure his hands are balled into fists at his side, but he still let’s thanos shake him like a damn toy so he can't be all that pissed, right?

the platform begins to rotate, that lovely music is playing loud enough to deafen. it seeps into your skin and the colorful doors are all spinning into a solid line of a vibrant rainbow before you.

popping colors of bright neon yellow and splashing tints of shifting greens flicker past your vision in fleeting glimpses before they suddenly drop out in a thick blanket of darkness, all sounds crashing as waves into the shorelines of your swimming eardrums. circles and circles, a spinning room until suddenly the floor stops and you go toppling over to your side in a drug-induced wind of vertigo. fingers clutch at your shoulders to keep you upright. the speakers along the wall boom in your ears when the music mutes out but you almost miss the words entirely. 

two.

you follow the grip on your shoulder to the almond eyes already fixated onto yours. 

you and me. 

there’s no question when his grip plunges down to your wrist. you’re spun and weightless, a rag doll in his grip as he drags you through the masses of other players stunned with their nerves, frozen in place, meanwhile you’re being ripped off the platform at a speed you can’t keep up with. legs become jelly under a floor that seems to move beneath your heels.

you hit the floor before you even get the chance to realize you’re falling. 

all the air stored inside your lungs is wrenched out all at once at the force and splats onto the floor out in front of you. the grip on your hand has vanished, lost in the sea of chaos. wheezes and wretched coughs leave you as you struggle to fill your cramping lungs. there’s feet everywhere, whirling and twirling with the walls still ever twisting in your haze. emerging from the havoc is the obscured outline of something green, then ringed hands reaching out for you. there’s an iron grip on your shoulder heaving you up before wrapping around your upper torso, hooked just below your shoulders. 

all you can make out is the floor your feet are stumbling over, it’s streaks and puddles of red. then, it all disappears into a box of pure orange. a door creaks as it slams shut behind you, you have to press your palms flat against the wall to stay upright when the hold around you disappears. you’re spun around by the shoulder, and then there he is all over again, cradling your face between his palms. the reason you’re still breathing and grinning and touching your hands over his own in exhilaration. 

nam-gyu’s pupils are blown so wide all you can see and lean into is tar black, inky pools until you’re seeing yourself through them, matching all the same, all mania and frenzy. 

“holy shit, you almost died!” his voice is reaching you in ways your brain isn’t computing, neurons misfiring systematically in flashes of hot and cold through your body. 

“i think i fell!” 

you’re giggling like an idiot whose life wasn’t on the line, and he’s losing it all the same in body wracking laughter, weight tossing from side to side. you’re still spinning, you think, everything's this endless blur of twirling colors and flashing pops of lights from all angels- all except for him. and this close, now, you see faint freckles you’d never noticed before that make your heart leap. such a handsome face- such a perfect grin. you’re spotlighted by his gaze. the lights are haloing him, glowing through the outline of him, and he’s so beautiful. 

“woah,” you touch his cheeks and he slides one of his hands from the side of your face into your hair. “you look like an angel.”

you’re out of your mind, but you see it- the flash moment where his eyes widen just a little, taken aback by your comment, but his smile never fades for a second. it reaches further, even, meets the crinkle of his eyes and the dusting red permeating over his freckled cheeks. 

"an angel?"

you pet your thumbs over the rises of his cheekbones.

"definately."

in one motion, his hand buries itself further into your hair and he crushes his lips against yours with a fervency so true it presses your back flat into the hard wall. fireworks and tingling nerves rivet and bounce through your nervous system, you throw your arms over his shoulders and clutch the back of his head and drag him into you even deeper. its perfect- it’s right, your heart is thrashing in your chest and you’re weightless and the pure joy in your blood is exploding into cataclysmic rushes of ecstasy. 

its nearly out of body. you’re numb everywhere except for where he meets you, where his tongue laps against your lower lip and you invite him in with a satisfied hum. you can feel his grin. his body moves against your own like he knows the ins and the outs of you. hands through your hair, finger nails clawing at your scalp, chest to chest and your breaths are mingling all into one. sloppy and messy and exactly what you needed. this is better than drugs, better than breathing, better than anything else you’d ever experienced in your life. his skin it hot against you, the taste of him is like the finest fruit. 

you’re pried apart by the shrill beep of a buzzer ricocheting off the walls. it’s like being dunked into cold water when he splits from you, red faced and his chest heaving. you look all the same- gasping for air with this dazed lopsided smile playing over your features. the door unlocks with an audible click. when he drags his hands away, you chase him like a dream and yank him down for another soul shifting kiss and he melts into it all over again. you want his hands all over you, you want him all over you.

he has to tear himself away from you, and when he completely pulls back, he makes sure to kiss the corner of your mouth and your cheek one last time before he does. 

“holy shit.” he sucks in a breath, taking a bouncy step backwards and gripping your hand. there's this newfound lightness to him, renewed vigor and excitement. “hell yeah.”

“hell yeah?”

“hell yeah.”

you’re throwing yourself into nam-gyu with every other step, marveling in the way he wraps his arm around your shoulders and keeps you conjoined at the waist. the doorway passes your blurry view and you can almost instantly hear thanos’s amusement echoing nearby. nam-gyu squeezes your skin through your tracksuit, the corners of his kiss-swollen lips still bent upwards with exhilarating thrill.

“that was the last round, i think.” you slur, following him from the leash of his hand gripping yours. 

he snickers. "sad its over."

thanos's voice is behind you both now, cheering with nam-gyu, shoving his shoulders with shouts of triumph and jubilation.

guards are standing at the edges, rounding up the remaining competitors to guide them to the hallway you’d all came in through. there’s this dismalness to the trudging steps of the remaining players, a sense of grief that you can’t seem to touch yourself. 

the drugs are starting to ebb away, but you’re still grinning like a fool as nam-gyu slings his arm around your neck. it's an easy choice, you find, to let yourself fall into him.

[miriellesandthegiantpeach]

Anatomy of a Breakup | Bucktommy

All it takes is one moment; one sentence that’s misinterpreted, exposing their insecurities, and it falls apart. An argument that neither of them remember how it started, but spiraled into something else entirely.

‘I really can’t do this right now, Evan, I gotta go.’ Came from Tommy where he meant he was tired of arguing and needed a breather and Buck interpreted it through the self conscious lens that Tommy was done done. One too many slip ups on Buck’s part.

‘Wait what? Fine fucking leave then! See if I give a shit,” Buck spat back in anger and confusion and insecurity. So Tommy left his loft and came back an hour later to find it empty. And maybe Tommy called a little too late at night and Buck was a little too tipsy to be able to talk through it or decide to wait for a better time, so they decided to just end it.

The thing is, they didn’t seem to get the memo that they were exes now; neither of them quite understanding it meant they needed to let each other go. They weren’t too good at the whole broken up thing.

**

It’s when the rest of the 118 crew petter out one by one from the bar, conveniently leaving Tommy and Buck to be the last two standing outside attempting to order separate Ubers.

Tommy is already outside when Buck closes out his tab, not even looking at how much he spent or drank for that matter. He walks out into the crisp night loose limbed and relaxed. He catches Tommy’s eyes and can’t help the smile that spreads across his lips; he believes for a moment that it’s written in the stars that Tommy is still there and not due to the Ubers taking a while. Walking over to Tommy, Buck realizes he doesn’t actually have a plan, but he knows he wants Tommy.

“Uh, hey,” Buck says a little less than eloquently. The soft smile Tommy shoots his way sends little sparks of hope down Buck’s spine. “Hey back,” Tommy says easily, refocusing on his phone.

Buck drops the need to be flirty, they’ve gone through that, they know each other better than anyone else. He goes for earnestness because that’s what works best on Tommy. Taking Tommy’s hand out of his jean’s pocket he says, “I don’t wanna go home alone tonight.” Tommy meets his eyes again and dips his chin, mouth forming a flat line.

”Evan.” That’s all Tommy says as he drops the hand holding his phone. For a minute there’s silence, searching each other’s eyes, looking for answers neither of them have. Tommy sighs and decides he’s too drunk for rational thinking especially when Buck’s hand is warm in his and tugging slightly. “You know what, me neither,” Tommy sighs and pulls Buck in the rest of the way and meets his mouth halfway. They melt against each other; they kiss easily because it’s so familiar.

Tommy breaks the kiss just long enough to check his phone, and says against Buck’s mouth, “Uber’s seven minutes away.”

Tommy can tell himself that this could be anyone’s cologne. But if he’s being honest with himself, this scent is forever associated with Buck. This lethal combination of bergamot, cardamom, and cedar that’s woodsy and sweet and has become Tommy’s own personal aphrodisiac. He takes a big indulgent inhale, aware that this could be the last time he’s this close to Buck.

He can convince himself that Buck’s stubble feels just like anyone else’s, and almost does, up until the moment Buck rasps out ‘Tommy’. No one says his name like him, whines his name the same, moans his name in such a particular way to send Tommy directly into a tailspin.

**

The hospital lights are blinding as Tommy cracks open his eyes. When he adjusts, his tired gaze falls onto Lucy.

“Donato,” he croaks, “Call Evan.”

Lucy gives him a reluctant look, “You sure? I thought you guys had a pretty nasty breakup?”

“He’s gonna find out anyway and there’s no stopping him from coming here, might as well speed up that process.” Tommy can barely move, his left arm feels numb and his ribs feel all kinds of bruised.

As soon Lucy steps into the hallway, Buck’s number on her screen, she sees said man storming down the hall looking frantic. “Calm yourself, Buckley,” she says, holding up a hand to stop him. “He’s okay, he just woke up and asked me to call you.”

”Thanks,” he says, rushes into Tommy’s room and pulls up a chair next to his bed.

“Tommy? What the hell happened, we heard over the radio-“

“Evan-“

“As soon as I heard there was a chopper from Harbor down I drove straight here-“

”Evan, please-“

”What happened? No one knew anything and I-“

“Baby!” That shuts Buck up so Tommy can finally talk. “I’m sorry. But I needed to get your attention.” He knows that word is off limits, but Buck just wouldn’t stop talking.

For the next five minutes Tommy explains everything, Buck’s hand gripping his tightly. Buck’s eyes are red rimmed making them a lighter shade of blue and Tommy can’t look at him. When he’s done, Tommy’s head falls back to the pillow and he rolls his head to make eye contact with Buck, “thanks for coming.”

“I’m so relieved you’re okay, I don’t know what I’d do if-”.

”Shhh- I’m okay.” Tommy soothes him, rubbing a thumb back and forth on his hand. Buck swallows hard and just nods, canting his body towards Tommy like he’s going to kiss him. They both feel it- the pull like gravity. They resist, both knowing they can’t break the dam, not now anyway.

**

“Tommy?” Buck chokes out as soon as Tommy answers the phone. “I didn’t know who else to- my parents-”.

“On my way,” Tommy interrupts him and speeds over to Buck’s.

The door is unlocked and Tommy finds Buck pacing in the kitchen. Without a word Tommy wraps Buck tightly in his arms. Buck takes a minute to let himself cry into Tommy’s shoulder, seeking the familiar comfort. Tommy doesn’t ask, knowing Buck will tell him. All he has to do is stroke the back of his head and pull him back by the shoulders.

There’s a telltale tremble in Buck’s hands so Tommy takes them, holding tight. “I’m sorry, I didn’t have anyone else who’d understand. Maddie and Chim were there and Jee is sick and my parents said you were just an experiment.” Buck’s tears are flowing freely down his cheeks. Breath trembling, Buck continues, “I just lost it, calling you a fling and that they were relieved I ‘got you out of my system’”. Buck spits out his parents' words in pure anger and hurt.

There’s a vice around Tommy’s heart, strangling it, because if they were being completely honest with themselves, there’s a very slim chance of them getting each other out of their systems. Their internal wiring has permanently changed.

Tommy pulls Buck’s head back into the junction of his neck and shoulder, big hands rubbing up and down his back. He clasps his hands together across Buck’s lower back and rocks them side to side. “You’re okay, Evan. We know what they’re like. Don’t let them change what you know, okay?”

Buck sniffles against his collarbone and nods, hands hanging onto Tommy’s shoulder blades. “You can always come to me, even though-”, Tommy stops himself from finishing that sentence. Even though what? Even though we're not together. Even though we’re too hurt to talk about what we need to. Even though we’re still obviously, painfully in love but too scared to admit it.

“Stay,” Buck whispers against Tommy's ear. And Tommy is powerless. Anything, Tommy thinks. I'll do anything, just say the word. If Buck asked him to, Tommy would take Buck straight to the courthouse and say ‘I do’ with whatever they can find to wrap around their ring fingers. Even now.

“Okay,” is all Tommy says out loud. He takes Buck's hand and silently pulls him upstairs and into sheets they've been tangled up together so many times before.

**

“Buck, I can’t take it anymore, you’re miserable and it’s making me miserable. For the love of God talk to Tommy and fix this,” Eddie tells Buck, frustrated that his best friend is being so hard headed.

Buck groans and puts his head in his hands. “It’s not that simple, Eds! He literally said ‘I really can’t do this right now.’ Like how else am I supposed to interpret that any other way then he’s done with me? I was fun for him while I lasted I guess, but the novelty wore off, just like with all my ex-girlfriends.”

“Well, did you give him an actual chance to explain? Maybe it wasn’t that. I know that man is absolutely head over heels for you, so I don’t believe for a second that he’s done with you.” Eddie sighs and puts a heavy hand on Buck’s shoulder. Buck turns to look at Eddie with his signature Buck sad eyes and pout.

“I’m just scared of being this huge disappointment to him, like I just feel like I’m going to slip up in a big way because of my inexperience. He gave me an out so I panicked and took it.”

Eddie tilts his head and gives Buck an exasperated look, “Maybe I’m betraying Tommy’s trust but I’m tired of you moping and you were my best friend first. Tommy is stupid over you, he was literally talking about moving in and settling down with you. Does that sound like you’re a huge disappointment?”

“He-he what?” Buck is blinking back tears. He didn’t let himself hope for all that no matter how desperately he wanted it. He wanted everything with Tommy.

“Go. Please. He’s off tonight.” Eddie barely finishes his sentence before Buck is out the door and in the Jeep.

Tommy hears the familiar engine cut off and looks up through the front window with anxious hope. Ten seconds later there’s a hasty knock on the door. Buck is on the other side, eyes are red rimmed from either crying or trying not to. Tommy tugs the other man wordlessly in by the wrist and closes the door.

With a deep breath, Tommy asks, “Evan?”

“You want to settle down with me?”

Goddamn it, Eddie, Tommy thinks, that was supposed to be confidential. All he can do is clear his throat and meet Buck’s too sincere eyes. “Yeah, whatever that looks like. You’re it for me, Evan. I don’t want anyone else.” Buck’s breath hitches at the present tense Tommy uses- he still wants him, wants a life with him.

Lunging forward, Tommy catches Buck in his arms with a surprised huff. Tommy feels the hot tears now against his neck. “I’m so sorry, Tommy. Fuck. I- I fucked it all up.” He pauses to sniffle and breathe ragged breaths. “I want that too, God I want that so bad, more than anything. I was so afraid of letting myself believe that what we had, what we have, could be that. I’ve never had something like this, never felt like this before. I guess I thought I’d be easier to break my own heart before you did.”

“Baby-” Tommy’s voice breaks and he’s holding on tight to Evan, as hard as he can without hurting him. His tears are now falling freely too. “I’m sorry too, I should’ve talked and not walked out. I was scared too- insecure that you had your fill and were going to be done with me soon.”

Pulling back, Buck makes eye contact with Tommy and cradles his face, wiping away stray tears. “Never, honey.” Buck kisses the tear tracks left behind on each cheek. “I’ll never have enough of you, never get over you, never not want you.”

They lean their foreheads together and just breathe. Both beyond relieved but angry now with themselves that they could think letting the other go was even a possibility.

“I love you,” Tommy says.

“I love you more,” Buck says back.

“Respectfully I don’t think that’s possible,” Tommy counters and makes Buck laugh. They finally find each other’s lips in a kiss that says everything that’s been built up, letting the dam break.

“I don’t wanna be broken up anymore,” Buck says, meeting Tommy’s eyes.

“Same here. Let’s not ever do that again,” Tommy smiles and it reaches his eyes. “I’ll do you one better- move in with me. I can’t go much longer without you here everyday.”

“We’ll start tomorrow,” Buck agrees and pushes the words into Tommy’s mouth.

[imustbenuts]

theres a few ??? thing going on in trigun stampede that's explicitly japanese/sino-ish in culture but im entirely not sure what to make of it. 3 things.

Knives' birthname being settled as Kni/Nai,

JuLai's emblem symbolism,

and the Buddha Thread??? thing in ep 11 10

Knives' birthname is Kni and hm! ...無い?

this is specifically a stampede thing. nightow didnt give him this Kni name in his work, so i can only chalk this up to the stampede staff's deliberate decision. if you render it into japanese, it'd be Nai, and the immediate word i can think of is... 無い. meaning, Nothing, or Without.

it fits rather well considering stampede has officially placed an emphasis on his obsessive love towards his brother on his bio on their official site:

my TL:

Vash's twin brother. Possesses a cold and merciless personality. Filled with a hatred for humans, he masterminds an organization with a plan to massacre the entire human species. With abilities beyond human understanding, he has the power to destroy entire planets. He greatly loves his only younger twin brother, Vash to an obsessive degree.

interestingly, the word used for the obsessive love here specifically is 執着 shuuchaku, which has roots/association with the word Abhinivesha. from what i understand it is a mental state, a fear of death, and a desperation to cling onto life so much one becomes ignorant and causes their own suffering. and ignorance is another big core of what makes Knives' character tick.

so i feel like this has some pointers towards Knives, or even child Kni being nothing without his younger brother. (or it could just be a simpler play on the word naive lmao)

meanwhile for Vash there's not really anything japanese that jumps out at me, but some have pointed out his name sounds like the french word Vashe, used for female cattle. extremely passive and born for consumption and theres a lot to dissect in that direction but im not going there! his name is Knife and his brother is a cattle there's catholicism may your brain go brr.

theres more to the nothingness concept in buddhism that doesnt put it squarely in a negative category but lets talk about buddhism later. next:

JuLai's emblem

stared at this for a few seconds and yelled fuck me. this represents the twins, AND its the broken yin yang symbol:

:). hey look at that female thing popping up again--

Knives is evidently the light Yang, and Vash is the dark Yin. ngl this daoist thing is somewhat sexist but lets brush that over 2 thousand year old aspect aside for this post. for stampede's case we can clearly see what theming is going on especially for those in the know of the original work.

Knives is hella assertive to the point of echoing fascist eugenics nonsense, and Vash has that nurturing instinct that seems to pop in whenever there's a human child or people who needs help.

interestingly the planet No Man's Land has too much fugging sun and is too hostile for human life. to survive people have to live in the shade and turn to plants for counters to the harsh, hot celestial sun. so here if Knives is being the sun, hes also being hostile to human life, and meanwhile the feminine looking plants and Vash's personality plus actions are the only thing giving these people at chance at life. (also vash has the power of Dark Matter or something)

obviously, just like JuLai's broken symbol, the balance is completely and utterly out of whack. in daoism a broken balance is thought to cause a lot of suffering. in the finale, Vash doesnt have a single speck of white on him, and Knives doesn't have a single speck of black. this means there isn't a balance and they cant come to an agreement at all.

im gonna also point out here that vash's idea of co-existence even if accepted wouldnt be a permanent solution due to the dependents having limited lifespan. so through this lens, stampede seems to be saying that neither twin's ideas are really effective long term solution, tho Knives is completely unacceptable due to obvious genocidal reasons.

Buddha Thread

studio orange whaaat are you guys cooking over there... ok so. in ep 11, Knives drops Vash into the uhhh The Hell Pool, and Vash tries to get out of it with his wire and hangs for a bit. then we get a scene like this:

Knives proceeds to cut Vash's thread and he drops into The Hell Pool. and then the metaphorical SA scene happens.

i call it Buddha Thread but this can also be known as The Spider's Thread. there exists a story of The Spider's Thread that's very Japanese-Buddhist and well known over there.

the gist of this story is that Buddha lowers a single spider thread to a sinner in the deepest hell as a lifeline to get out, bc this heavy sinner had done a singular good deed of saving a spider he was about to crush with his foot. however, the thread is broken as a result of the sinner's selfishness yelling for the other sinners below him to let go, claiming this thread was his and his alone. the sinner having climbed halfway upwards the thread after great effort plunges back into the pits of hell. buddha having watched all of this reacts with sadness, and the days in paradise carry on as per usual.

and. digest that for a second. and then refer back to Knives and The Fall and this scene that plays later, when Vash's mind wipe begins proper:

fuck. me. knives is framed as a self proclaimed god in the loudest ways on multiple levels.

while these 3 aspect i just broke down explaining do not exist at least overtly in the original trigun, i thought it would be interesting to chew on in light of the overwhelming catholicism existing in the story.

there's some themes im also picking up from the original trigun that might be rooted in either buddhsim or japanese culture such as: the undeniable truth that yearning and hunger is part of the human living experience and to deny it is to deny living. but im not sure what to make of it bc A) not explicitly framed or explored as a buddhsim/japanese idea thing and B) catholicsm obv is the overwhelming theme of the entire work

idk what the heck studio orange is cooking exactly but. hm.

[snowleopardcrk]

more symbolism!!!

ah yes, more Midnight Lily, a silverbell cameo and two Moonflower doodles. AU by @cuppajj

For Moonflowers story, we have her main conflict with her father, Saint Vanilla Cookie. But what about Midnight Lily Cookie, her mother? To give a little context for whats coming up, Moonflowers story theming around the Saint where Moonflower symbolizes the Moon, which includes the Solar Eclipse to contrast the Saints light themed imagery. Plus Moonflowers additional and more religious theming being based on the Spirit of Apostasy.

It is abundantly clear that Midnight Lily is an enabler of the other Neo Beasts, while to some extent understandable as she is the weakest of the Neo Beasts (she has long crossed the line of it being acceptable).

To compliment well with the general religious theming, I did additional research into the role of a mother in the lens of the Bible. 'the mother is one who "binds" the family together, holding them together individually and collectively through her love and actions' Despite how broken the family is, the only remaining connection that Moonflower has with the Saint IS Midnight Lily. And in return, she does care for her daughter and the Saint at some level. Yet, she does nothing to genuinely mend what has been broken (no one is, Moonflower is afraid of her father and the Saint is so delusional that he believes that this is the best course of action to save everyone). This fits her pattern of enabling and being generally passive to the world around her, for the most part.

Another aspect that I have neglected to mention is her slow-burn of a plan, she seeks by the end to have the others at least playing by her rules, but also not liking when her children do things she does not like. This is now territory where I do a lot of guess work and personal thoughts n' research so this is very much subject to change if anymore gets revealed.

How I have understood the few tidbits we get about the Beast of Sovereignty, she is an enabler and insecure about being the weakest. And I think her insecurity in some way, even if unintentional may reflect on her relationships where she is the one in power. In general, she is fine with her kids, generally passive until they get too unruly. At that point, she will remind them with harsh words who the mother is. I'd like to note quickly, she will NEVER get physical. She only uses WORDS. It is also important to note that she does wish for her child to understand where she is coming from. She is an enabler because she holds little power over the beasts, but in dynamics where she is the one in power, this side vanishes for the most part. Despite valuing sovereignty I believe she still wants to retain some level of control so Cookies don't do things she does not like. This is generally in line with how leadership generally operate, they don't care when you're doing smth positive, but when it turns negative, that's when it starts turning sour.

As for the actual arc of Midnight Lily and Moonflower, I have a general framing but it is difficult to make something as substantial as the one she has with Saint Vanilla. Gotta wait until I get more lore and story for the gal. But in short, it is a conflict of the two trying to make each other understand their respective sides. With Moonflower trying to save her mother, her only remaining parental figure from being a beast- while Midnight Lily seeks to make Moonflower truly understand her side and hopefully have Moonflower join her permanently.

Heres other tidbits for Moonflower and her relationship with the Creme Republic. For her ventures to the Silver Kingdom are actually secret. She is a very powerful and talented magic user (similar to her parents), so her travelling long distances quickly is very possible. Moonflower is already an outcast in the Republic, it is well known who her parents are. And Cookies keep their distance, there are very few Cookies who come and check in her. Its mostly some scientists who are researching the neo beasts (espresso, maybe, depends on his condition in this au), Clotted Cream Cookie, GingerBrave, Financer (sort of, she tags along the Consul) and depending on the direction of the story, Madelaine Cookie(I will start really brewing something here once more stuff comes out~). She stays isolated in her lab in the undercity, she never comes out, and when she does, she hides her face and just retrieves things like food or research material. It is normal for her to not talk with anyone for well over a week with nothing but a single lost Raisin Crow to keep her company. I'd like to note that this raisin crow is now an albino, and Black Raisin tasked Moonflower to take care of it since it was bullied and ousted by the other raisin crows (I took inspo from the myth, but it is generally agreed that white color corvids are subordinate to the colored ones).

But she is also an outcast in the silver kingdom, despite being Midnight Lilys kid (its a well known fact), she has gotten into disagreements with their monarch and isn't the upmost loyal member- she has a strong stigma around her. Silverbell Cookie does take pity on Moonflower.

That's all for now. I'm gonna lay down, I've done so much research...I silently weep at the thought of fully showing the complexity of the three in full force.