#There are so many other scenarios that could come out of this!

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 5 part 5

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1])

jen just shakes her head, bitter and not in the least surprised at what agatha did

meanwhile agatha is... she's just devastated

billy is the only person in the room who has never experienced and still doesn't comprehend the finality of death

agatha runs, she can't do anything else. rio is the only one that cares.

she looks so pathetic in that getup. her behaving like a little girl is not so funny anymore, is it?

as always, rio watches her. she has a lot to think about after this trial.

but alice needs her undivided attention now. lady death has to clock in.

I'm glad that we keep focusing on agatha's reaction. she used to be able to kill people and shake it off (or at least pretend to). she cannot shake alice off

and it was all for a tiny spark of magic. that is all that's left of alice on the mortal plane

when billy confronts her she visibly recoils and shrinks in on herself, like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar

one hand on her own heart, one on billy's heart. like she's begging and willing him to understand

it's not: you lied. it's you lied to me. it's personal. it's the trust he had in a mentor and mother figure, irrevocably broken

agatha never lies to billy. she's shitty with him in many other ways, but she doesn't lie

billy, honey. you set out on a road trip with a literal serial killer.

agatha had this mad fantasy of billy and her becoming a family, a coven two. and of course she went and ruined it. she always does

jen has all her walls firmly up, she won't allow herself to grieve for alice. she's still on the verge of walking a dark path, and agatha is the one pushing and pushing her toward it

lilia, who has lost and grieved so many, is just numb with pain. Death is unstoppable. hey guys, remember the first three episodes? when everything seemed so fun and carefree?

to billy witches were spellbooks and broomsticks and hot topic eyeliner. how do you explain to a kid the ugliness and violence and trauma that will inevitably fester in a marginalized, repressed community?

from the mouth of a child. she might have killed alice by accident. she has been deliberately and systematically killing many more to serve her own agenda.

and what agatha does, when confronted with ugly truths? she runs, and if she can't run, she goes all in with the spectacle and the cruelty

she could have picked any moment to talk about wanda. she could have broken the news gently, eased billy into understanding what he's been doing. now she's just lashing out in anger and fear and pain. billy did just put her through hell, but she's still the only adult of the two, no matter how immature she wishes to act

when push comes to shove, when it all becomes too much, agatha will latch to her self-preservation instincts and choose to protect herself over anyone else, even the people she loves. She's doing it with billy, she's doing it with rio. I'd argue that she did it with nicky, too.

hey, hey agatha, remember what happened the last time you poked a chaos witch with a stick? you dumb idiot.

fucking around meets finding out etc etc etc etc

boy is she SCREAMING. this bitch will never go down quietly, she'll snivel and cry like the sad pathetic creature she is

and the parallels and the irony of billy hurting jen and lilia in his grief.

do you guys laugh too when bille ellish pops in?? I love how agatha later says that billy is dramatic because he's a maximoff. honey, wanda was only ever coming up with cute sitcom scenarios. this is all your doing, you and your dramatic ass. this is your son. drama queen and drama queen in training.

go to episode 6 part 1

[cybershock24601]

Haven't read the wingmaker job yet but keep seeing snippets from it and the best justification I have for why Illario is so different is because he's McFreakin' Losing It during the game. His house of cards is collapsing and to say he is not handling it well would be an understatement.

First, he has the cousin he's been mourning for a year and probably dealing with a very complicated mix of grief, guilt, and regret because he ordered Lucanis' death and still hasn't gotten what he wanted out of it- being made First Talon - and only lost his brother. Only to find out actually his cousin is alive, his grandmother has known the whole time and didn't say anything to him, and now his cousin is going to be coming back and Illario knows he's never going to be First Talon unless he does something. Then Lucanis is back and he's an abomination, a fate a lot of people in Thedas would say is worse than death and I'm sure Illario knows that Caterina would still pick Lucanis anyways even after she finds out what her poor boy has become.

Second, he needs to get rid of Caterina because it's clear she's not going to let him be First Talon ever. But he can't kill her. That's his grandmother who he has an incredibly complex relationship with and still craves her approval even though he knows he isn't going to get it, and after everything with Lucanis, I don't think Illario could go through with killing someone else close him considering how messed up he was after getting rid of Lucanis. Which also presents problems because is he just going to keep Caterina locked up for the rest of her days? What was the end goal in kidnapping her? I don't think Illario really thought it all through because he was panicking and had to think fast when he found out Lucanis was alive and coming back.

Third, Illario also has to deal with Zara. No matter what Illario's actual feelings towards her are, Illario still has to keep her thinking he's still interested and into her even after she betrayed him by capturing and torturing Lucanis for a year. Illario probably started making his deal with the Venetori long before you find out about it in the game seeing as he's already cozied up to Zara, so he's also having to play an entire organization for their support which probably gets a lot more complicated after he kills his main point of contact even if he likely frames it as Rook and Lucanis offing her.

Lastly, Illarrio has to think of the Crows and present himself as a properly grieving grandson and relieved that his cousin is back and manage House Dellamorte with his grandmother gone and Lucanis on contract. He's gotta gather support amongst the other Talons and allay suspicion and with so many different plates to balance and sheer emotional turmoil the guy is going through, it makes sense that he's dropping the ball on a lot of things during the game. Illario is stuck in a nightmare scenario and its one he set in motion himself with no way out and only the title of First Talon as consolation that everything he has done was worth it.

[delphi-shield]

— 「 BODYGUARD 」

lighter lorenz x reader — 2.2k summary: you're not his responsibility (not yet), but the guilt will eat him alive if he doesn't get your drunk ass home safely. content: lighter's pov, vomit, alcohol use, sappy lighter, jealous lighter beyonce's bodyguard is so him to me i can't do this anymore fellas

You call; he answers.

Some things in life are just that simple. Lighter tries to keep it that way for you.

You don’t normally call in the middle of the night, though. Lighter doesn’t mind – honest, he doesn’t. He had been tossing and turning since he laid down, passing the time by picking open old wounds, letting the regret sting the raw edges. It takes time to realize that the ringing isn’t in his ears, that he’s flat on his back in bed, not in the ring. He almost ignores the call, but when he rolls over and sees your name flickering back at him, he dives to pick up before the last ring.

You're silent on the other line, nothing but muffled talking and rustling against the microphone. All sorts of scenarios race through his head. You're stuck somewhere - trapped in a hollow, or cornered by a rival gang. His past has caught up to him, mired you in all this ick. His stomach turns.

Adrenaline works way better than caffeine and he’s known that for a while, but he wishes he wasn’t so familiar with the helplessness that grips him. Lighter sits up, swings his legs over the side of his bed, poised to run to you.

It’s nothing so serious. When you finally get your phone up to your face and greet him with a (too loud, too sloppy) ‘hey!’ it becomes painfully obvious. You're drunk. That's what all of this is about.

Lighter needles the details out of you bit by bit, trying to glean information from your ramblings. Stranded out in Badger Springs. You met some guy out there for a date, he went to the bathroom and didn’t come back. You don’t laugh when he offers to deck the guy, and he can’t tell if you’re really torn up about this or if you just didn’t hear him.

Lighter pinches the bridge of his nose. He exhales long and low, away from the mic. He shouldn't encourage this. Can't keep bailing you out every time you get yourself in a sticky situation. But the thought of you drunkenly stumbling around the Outer Ring, bumbling your way into real trouble, has him fumbling to get his arms through his jacket.

“Stay put. I’ll be right there.”

Badger Springs. Seriously? Why’d you have to go so far out? What was so wrong with getting a drink in Blazewood?

Irritation pricks at him, has his hands feeling staticky even when he grips the handlebars of his bike. You probably went out there so no one would interrupt your date. What, were you trying to hide it? Did the girls know about this? No. No way. You would have called one of them to pick you up if that were the case. Right? You weren’t trying to hide it from him, not specifically.

He has a long ride ahead to stew about it, to knot the meaning of your actions into ugly shapes and then smooth them out, only to twist it all up again another mile down the road. This wouldn’t have happened - he kicks the stand down on his bike - if he’d manned up, if he’d asked you to watch the movie he’d rented. (New release, independently produced, apparently based off some old civilization tapes that had only been spoken about in a scant few records - some horror flick called Seen that you had been raving about. Not his thing, but your eyes lit up when you spoke about it. He figured he could just watch you during the bloody parts.)

But he didn’t ask, and now he’s here, freezing his ass off in the middle of the night, parked outside this shithole bar, two towns over. The bar is a dump. Looks like your date couldn’t even take you anywhere nice. You’re off by yourself at the end of the bar, shoulders drawn in close, crowding over your drink. At least the regulars are leaving you alone. A quick look around tells him that there’s too many people in this place for it to be a quick fight, if it came down to that.

He strolls past tables and booths, lets his hand fall heavy on your shoulder. You jump, turning sluggishly to look up at him - eyes wide and red. C’mon - don’t tell him you’ve been crying over this prick. Your expression smooths the moment that you recognize him. 

“Lighter!” Your arms fling around his middle, squeeze him tightly.

The tide of adrenaline that he washed in on pulls back, drags his relief away. Anger shores up, quick and sudden. It soothes in another pulse of his heart; understanding. It's kind of flattering if he doesn't think about it too hard. You trusted him enough to come pick you up. Probably couldn't even think clearly - just knew you wanted to go home. Knew he would get you there, safe and sound. Not a bad prize for driving all the way out here; he tries to enshrine this moment in his memory. Later, trying to fall asleep in his room, he’ll feel like a sleaze for delighting in being your hero like this.

He pats the top of your head, takes advantage of the distraction to wave the bartender over, check if you’ve still got an open tab. He slips him a couple extra denny for the trouble, keeps you distracted and talking with carefully placed ‘oh, really?’s and ‘mhm’s.

"You're wasted, huh?"

“Not that bad.”

You sound confident. He steps back, lets you hop off the bar stool on your own. Lighter hooks a thumb in his pocket. He drums his fingers against his thighs, watching you sway back and forth in front of him. Your eyes are hazy and unfocused, looking in his general direction with a dopey grin on your face.

Pride feels better than anger. He latches onto that. You make it so easy to feel when you cling onto his arm, lean into him. He keeps you close, ignores the whispers he overhears about the Red Scarf. His step quickens. He’s not getting into any trouble, not when he’s here for you.

You struggle to keep up, all uncoordinated limbs, your head probably spinning. He helps you onto the back of his bike and passes you a helmet. He’d grabbed it on his way out - figured if you were as trashed as you sounded on the phone then it was better safe than sorry. He’s glad he did.

Somewhere along the ride home, you stopped babbling. He had felt your words pressed against his back more than he had heard them. He stops just before home to check on you. Can’t have you falling asleep. He doesn’t want to hear it about riding in with you all banged up on the back - he’d never let it down. He’d never let himself live it down, more accurately, but his bike starts back up before you hear that part.

Honestly, he’s almost positive you won’t remember much past when you first called him. That doesn’t stop him from treating you gently. He helps you off his bike, keeps your hand in his to guide you around stray milk crates and cacti that just seemed to leap into your path.

It’s just a little further. He’s almost got you back to your place when he hears it. That ominous groan. Your face pallid, cold sweat breaking out against your forehead.

“Gonna throw up?” He asks, big hand rubbing slow circles on your back.

You shake your head, the force of it knocking you off balance. You would have stumbled right into a cactus if he hadn’t hauled you into his side by the back of your shirt. (Like scruffing a kitten, he catches himself thinking. Cute.)

He tries to guide you to the closest trash can, but you can’t quite make it. Your legs are quaking, all the strength sapped from you while you expel that contents of your stomach into one of Old Demir’s flower pots. He gathers your hair back from your face gently, caging it all in one hand to rub your back with the other. Somewhere between gentle coos of ‘there you go’ and ‘let it all out’, he manages to make out your garbled apology. You thread it between heaves, between sobs, but he catches it all the same and shushes you for it.

“All better?” He asks when the dry heaving has stopped. You nod slowly. The tiniest whimper he’s ever heard drifts from your lips. He knows from experience that much more movement than that will hurt.

Lighter sighs. The scent of your perfume curdles with the stench of vomit. He arranges your hair back as best he can, trying to replicate the way you had done yourself up - all pretty for another man, he remembers. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand, and he pulls the end of his scarf free.

“No, Lighter–”

Your hands are clumsy. He dodges your attempts to stop him easily. He clicks his tongue and swipes the vomit from your chin. “Don’t worry about it. This scarf has seen worse.”

It’s about time to get it cleaned, anyway. Add that to his growing list of chores.

You’re moving slower than before. He tucks you into his side to give you some more stability. When you pause at the steps to your place, he sweeps an arm under your knees, cradles you close to him. He had expected a protest, or an apology - something in line with the rest of your behavior this evening, but you curl closer to him. 

It’s a fumble to find your keys - shifting your weight from one arm to the other until he finally finds them in your back pocket. He knows your place well enough to dodge the shoes left in the entrance way, to step around the box that sticks out into the hallway from your bedroom. He settles you into your bed, rolls you onto your side - just to be safe.

Lighter keeps watch for a few moments, making sure you’re not going to roll onto your back, pressing the back of his hand against your sweat-chilled forehead. Once he’s certain the worst has passed, he leaves to fill a glass of water for you. Your eyes are half-open when he gets back. He draws up a chair, tries to figure out how to ask if you want his help changing into something more comfortable without sounding like a creep.

You rip that idea from his head when you blindside him with a question.

“D’you think it’s my fault?”

“Course not,” Lighter answers before he can even put together what you’re asking. “Everyone has too much fun sometimes. Don’t beat yourself up over it. You’re not even gonna remember this.”

“No, I mean…” You curl tightly around your pillow. He could have sworn he heard a hitch in your voice. His heart lurches. Christ, you can’t start crying now. He can’t take it. “Why would he just leave?”

Lighter has to remind himself not to pull a face. Not what you need right now. He’s already said too much. He’s just going to wind up upsetting you more. He wants to tell you that guy is a douchebag, that none of it had been your fault. The guy just wasn’t man enough to be upfront. That was all.

“I just don’t think I’m meant for this,” you whisper. His train of thought crashes abruptly. "Like– love, and stuff.”

“You’re so much fun to be in love with,” Lighter says, and if you were sober you would clock him for just how quickly he did so, “and someday, someone’s gonna see that.”

“How do you know?”

Because my heart feels like it’s buckled into a roller coaster and I can’t figure out if I’m having fun or if I’m scared shitless. Because I’ve got eyes. Because it’s you.

He can’t say any of that. Not now, while you’re shivering and small, a little bundle of raw nerves that he rescued from some dump. Christ, you really are a kitten right now. He chucks your chin with a knuckle, his smile twisting to something bittersweet.

“C’mon. You should know not to bet against me by now.”

For the first time since he got you through the door, you smile. Barely there and flimsy, but you’re only just clinging to consciousness. Your cheek presses back against your pillow, eyes slipping shut.

“Thanks, Lighter,” you murmur.

You’re out cold within the next minute.

Lighter lingers overlong. He shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be in your room while you’re passed out like this, but he can’t bring himself to rise. His shoulders hunch, expression dropping, stomach churning. Through your window, dawn is just beginning to break. The Outer Ring is bathed in a cool blue light, the horizon tinging purple at the edges.

You have a hell of a morning ahead of you. He runs a hand down his face and forces himself to stand, to get his day started properly. Another sleepless night. Maybe the next time he finds himself awake, staring at the ceiling and tormenting himself, he’ll call you first. Maybe he’ll do it before anyone else has a chance to.

Lighter locks your door on his way out and tucks the key under your mat. He should act. He should tell you.

He walks back to his place in silence, resisting the urge to grab his phone, to text you and say let me know if you need anything.

Maybe one day.

[fancyfeathers]

Happy thanksgiving, I hope it is going well🦃

Thank you for responding to my other ask about the flinching around the batfamily. But now another question has popped up in my head, what if Daughter reader just randomly picks one of the "siblings" to cling onto for dear life. But it backfires for the sibling because uh oh! Daughter Reader met their friend and suddenly boom she has a crush on them. Example Maybe: Tim? (I love Tim he's my favorite lol.) Daughter Reader sees his "subtleness" in obsession or whatever he likes to call it😒 Reader is chilling with Tim, then KON walks in and she never whipped her head around so fast. (Obviously Tim notices.) Now not only is Tim (or any other sibling of the batfamily you'd like to use) is dealing with a clingy reader, now they're dealing with said reader constantly asking them about their friend and occasionally stealing their phone to stare at pictures of said friend. (She's a little creepy she's been cooped up in a manor for like a decade by now give her a break she's trying her best.) OR! When the batsibling's friend comes back over reader gives them a drawing she made of them Thank you reading have a lovely Day/Night! - 🐈‍⬛Anon

Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling Masterlist

Ooooo this is giving me ideas

I did make Daughter!Darling younger than Damian so Kon might be a bit too old for her (or young… he was created in a lab, but that’s a whole other can of worms)

But this gave me an ideas for two scenarios that stem from this idea…

Taking the crush aspect out of this cause of age differences with the idea with Kon, like Tim brings him around to the house for the first time while Daughter!Darling is home from school or one of the many outings that Dick takes her on of his choosing. Connor is definitely friendly to her, Tim has definitely mentioned his little sister to him, how amazing she is, how adorable, how perfect-

She looks terrified when Damian came around looking for her, mentioning something about notes in class…

Then the second time he comes around to visit, he catches a glimpse of Bruce locking her bedroom door with her inside… who does that?

Then when he came around to see Tim and he walked into the living room and he saw his friends taking photos of her just sitting and doing schoolwork and she clearly looks uncomfortable.

He finds some excuse to have Tim leave the room so he can ask her…

“Are you okay?”

“N-no…”

He felt horrible for her, but he did not have anymore time to ask questions before Tim returned. Kon is not capable of taking care of a child but he knows people who definitely can.

It’s when she is at school and out on the swings alone, Damian scared away her friends again today and…

“Hello, mind if I sit by you?”

There is a man with glasses and a visitor’s pass that comes to speak with her and she lets him, he introduces himself as Clark Kent and he lets her connect the dots. He lets her know that she can speak freely and he is here to help her and just everything spills out with tears. Clark would be horrified by what he hears, this little girl is in danger and no one had cared enough to help her and-

“Hang on tight.”

There is just a quick moment before he picks her up and they are in the air with him taking her somewhere he’ll know she’ll be safe for now anyway, with his family.

He’ll explain things to Lois and Jon, but he is sure they will understand… they have to…

The other way I could see this scenario going is…

With the idea of when she starts having a boyfriend who is a member of the Court of Owls (I mentioned him in these posts, link, link, link, link)

But Damian would have probably have made friends to help with his cover, and of course there is the most perfect boy in school, talented, smart, kind, head of the student council, on many sports teams. Then when Damian began attending that school after Talia left him with Bruce, he was the one who was we so adamant about making him feel welcome, but of course it was a fake friendship on both sides. The boy had no real interest in being Damian’s friend, but he also needs to keep up his appearance.

He could honestly care less about Damian until when they come into his first period class and introduce a new student, Damian’s little sister and when the teacher asks for volunteers to show her around the classroom, his hand shoots up. Damian is fine enough with his friend to help his sister, he won’t get close-

That is until the end of the day when he sees her walking down the steps of the school with that boy, laughing and chatting with each other. It is fine, he is a family with a good reputation-

Then when he is supposed to come over for a school project for Damian’s and his science class, he is talking to his sister after they are done working and are waiting for his driver.

Then there is the time when they just went on summer break and she comes into Damian’s room and asks for the address of the boy’s summer home because they promised to write to each other and she had his address on her phone but she got it taken away since she would only need it to call the family and she-

Damian wants to pull out his hair more and more every time she mentions this boy. This goes on for years and into high school and it all comes to a boiling point where Damian catches them making out in the stairwell.

Oh my god he wants to kill them, wants to rip out his heart, wants to bang his head into the concrete over and over again. He restrains himself and only threatens him with some bruising and harsh words.

But after that nothing is the same.

His sister distances herself from Damian, he cuts off his friend, but then true colors begin to show to Damian, only Damian.

Like when he opens his locker and finds it defaced, threats, insults, and strangely enough a feather, like a signature, but to whom does it belong to?

The boy puts on his perfect facade and acts like he actually cares about Damian and as it he had nothing to do with it, but his laughter when he is talking to his group of friends just seems too loud, the kisses he shares with his sister are almost smug, and the perfect smile and the praise he receives from his teachers and classmates leaves a sour taste in Damian’s mouth.

He wished he had asked his father to have his sister homeschool.

[moriitis]

Knight!Toby Rogers. HCs. Medieval AU. 18+

¬ Comes from a very poor background, lived in the poorer district.

¬ His dad a drunk, his mother passed away during childbirth. Lyra had found work and gotten married, thus leaving him with his father.

¬ His dad nothing but a low life farmer who used what money he got on alcohol. Claimed he fought in the 'big war' but Toby never believed it. ¬ Finally snapped one night and killed his father in a fury of rage. When his fathers taxes weren't paid, the local guards discovered the murder. ¬ Toby is now labelled as a criminal and is sentenced to death. ¬ But the day of his execution, the King's Knight decides that Toby deserves a chance and convinces the King to send Toby to Knight school for the rest of his childhood; serving his sentence to be trained as a Knight. ¬ At the age of thirteen, he narrowly escapes the death sentence and is sent to Knight school. ¬ Knight school is rough and brutal and Toby faces countless bullying from the fellow boys due to his tics. Finds himself getting beat up a lot there, chased out into the woods or even spat on as they walked past. ¬ 'You'd never make it as a Knight.' They would sneer at him. ¬ Six AM starts, running until his lungs could collapse. They'd deny breakfast if you couldn't complete the laps around the fortress, which was perched atop a mountain. ¬ Many boys fell to their death, each morning a boy missing from the treacherous paths and rocky climbs. ¬ Three hours of learning the art of combat. Swords, axes, fist to fist. Each wound nothing but a lesson to become better. ¬ Toby finishes Knight school at the age of eighteen. ¬ He's immediately employed by the same King that spared his life, now finding himself in chains of loyalty to the crown. ¬ Toby is devoted to the crown and the King. ¬ He's put on wall duty, executions at first and ensuring safety within the kingdom and its citizens. ¬ But really proves his worth when he takes an arrow that was meant for the King, saving the King's life. ¬ Ranked up to now Knight for the King himself, attending high court meetings, the feasts and following him on horseback when needed so.

¬ Becomes nothing but a loyal dog. ¬ Upon his rank up, Toby shaves his head. A sign of his devotion to his king and a renewal of his vows as a Knight. ¬ A quiet, dead, brown eyed boy that lost his innocence young. ¬ Doesn't speak unless spoken to, but as the years tick on he will begin to advise for the King. ¬ Adding inputs in council meetings, helping avoid another great war. ¬ Becomes witty, smart and dangerous the more he works alongside the King. ¬ A small part within him desperate to be loved, looked after. ¬ A very broken shell of a man. ¬ Does not attend chapel as he is not religious.

Scenario...

You are the Princess/Prince. HCs.

¬ Loving you is strictly out of the question. It's forbidden, you were due to be married off to another. ¬ But Toby couldn't deny the feelings he felt each time you looked at him. Like he was being.. noticed? ¬ You looked through his armour, you saw nothing but a touch starved mutt. ¬ Each time he was instructed to guard you or accompany you, he'd feel such a sense of duty that weighed on him, greater than any other.

¬ Being near you, near your presence, it did things to him in a way he couldn't describe. ¬ Was it the lack of sex? ¬ He'd spent some nights in the brothels, but the idea of you, how wrong it would be. It lulled him in more. ¬ Each time you grazed fingers, he'd look at you in a way that longed for desire and you felt it too. ¬ He spent more time alone with you, even in the chapel. ¬ And he wasn't sure what happened, but now you were pinned against the chapel wall and he was helplessly attacking the flesh of your neck. ¬ And it wasn't just that instance where he'd taken you helplessly. ¬ The empty armoury, hell with it, the stable even. ¬ And it was wrong, so wrong, but the thought of it only encouraged him more. ¬ He'd watch in jealousy as your hand was given away, the thought to kidnap you and make him his own becoming a thought that kept him awake at night. ¬ How he could make it work, how he could be a good husband, how he could protect you.

[breakyourrxles]

❥between two breaths (m) | 𝟝

𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐚𝐥

↳ Riding high on the exuberance of a successful debut, your guard falls for only a moment... Unfortunately, that is just enough time for you to be found out.

kim sunwoo x fem!reader (side lee juyeon x reader) — idol!sunwoo, fan/trainee!reader. forced proximity, forbidden love, friends to lovers, angst, slow burn, idolverse-typical themes regarding; dating, image, public perception, etc. happy ending, plot-heavy!! reader thinks she's nonchalant about it but she rly isn't. smut. [5,0k wc ongoing] cws: heavy themes of wanting-but-can't-having, mild jealousy, explicit sexual content, a little alcohol consumption, dancing on the edge of career suicide, poor decision making because of The Wanting.

❥ masterlist | ao3

"Do you remember the first time we held hands?"

Tickets for the MVNE debut showcase sold out quickly, and while it is the ideal situation, you could not help but notice the evident shock held in the reactions from the staff and managers who work closely to you.

In all fairness, you and the girls had been rather surprised by it too. Nara sat glued to her phone on the morning of release, constantly cycling between various social media platforms, the ticketing page, and media outlets. Silent, curious; a little apprehensive about what the result of this could mean for the immediate future of the group as a whole.

When it was all said and done, she huffed out a sigh of relief and without so much as a word, stuffed her phone into her bag and finished preparations for leaving the dorm that day.

Now, the showcase day has come.

From backstage you can hear the ambient sounds of people filing into the venue to find their seats. It's difficult to make sense of who the majority of voices are coming from; do men prefer MVNE? Do women? What is your fanbase from the beginning going to be like? What are they expecting based off of debut album teaser photos and soundbites? Based off of introduction footage and a single photoshoot done with your labelmates.

There is a lot that lingers on your mind, but today is hardly the day to be able to grant most of it much attention.

Sunwoo has sent you congratulations and good luck, but you've not yet found the time to respond despite the fact that your phone has remained close to you. Rather, you are perfectly capable of carving out the time necessary for doing so, but responses from you beget further messages received from him, and to put it plainly; you have been dodging him ever since.

You and the girls stand together in the wings while stylists hover around and make finishing touches to hair, make-up and outfits. Woori gives a wonderfully eloquent pep talk about how all of you have worked so incredibly hard for—and are unwaveringly deserving of—this moment right here. Miyoung nearly cries and Woori begs her not to because they don't have the kind of time now for the stylists to fix that kind of disaster scenario, but all-in-all; spirits are high and smiles are wide amongst all of you. The time spent getting here has been shorter than for most, and in ways, this terrifies you just that much more.

What if you're not ready? What if speedrunning debut will be the downfall of everyone?

The lights dim, and Jaehyun comes around from his own green room down the hall. Greetings are exchanged and you cannot help but be moderately thankful for him being chosen as the MC for the event, when there are other, more troublesome options.

You can't dodge Sunwoo forever, nor do you want to. Right now, there is far too much going on in your life for you to be especially fussed over a kiss that really never should have happened at all. The conversation weighs even heavier in the background of your thoughts, and when your brain is not bombarded by the incessant requirements of choreography and line distribution, one of many lines said by him always seems to find a way to claw itself back up to the forefront of everything.

Sunwoo can wait, and he can be dealt with at a later time when the whirlwind experience of being a freshly debuted idol group has died down just a bit. He isn't going anywhere, and hopefully, he'll be just a little bit more understanding of it than what you are, perhaps, even particularly deserving of.

The crowd cheers, the backtrack starts filtering in through the speakers, and one staff member loudly shouts that it is time.

Looking into the reflection of the elevator mirror, you're a little perplexed by what stares back at you.

To say that you do not recognize yourself would, of course, be a great exaggeration, but you suppose that in the days since the official debut of MVNE, you have begun to feel fragmented in ways that have previously been unknown to you.

Knowing yourself has always been a relatively simple task, but now, more than one version of you seems to exist. There is the version of yourself that the company hopes to fine-tune and perfectly craft for the consumption of the masses, and as a result of that, an absolutely incomprehensible amount of versions splinter off in how any one individual person seems to receive it. Suppose that this sort of dichotomy stands in life altogether; the you that you understand yourself to be and the you that the people around you take it as; only now, the scale is far grander, and the footing you once felt you had on all of this feels just a little bit less stable than what you are accustomed to.

At least your outfit looks nice.

Beside you, Woori pays no attention to her own appearance as the elevator continues to climb up towards the destination. Lost in thoughts of her own from what you can tell, with much more on her plate of responsibilities than the rest of you may ever truly come to understand. Still, she is doing well and you are more than proud of her, and at the risk of her own anxieties souring the mood of what is meant to be a fun and joyous evening, you take it upon yourself to shatter the silence.

"Tonight is going to be good," you say. "For just a few hours, we can leave everything else at the door."

Woori turns to look at you, and though there is a smile pulling at her lips, it's easy enough to see that it is at least somewhat forced.

"I don't know if I can ever really leave it all at the door. Not for a long, long time."

"You should talk to Sangyeon more. Your position is a stressful one, you don't have to do it all alone."

Though there is obvious apprehension in her acceptance of those words, Woori nods just slightly and says, "Yeah, I know you're right." Her smile grows into something more genuine then, and with a soft cock of her head she changes the subject to say, "You look nice, not that that's anything out of the ordinary. Trying to impress somebody tonight?"

You wish to tell yourself that you've not given the previous circumstances any thought whatsoever, but that would be a lie and you are in no such position to begin trying to make yourself believe things that you know to be untrue. The debut showcase has been days past already, the reception has been good, and outside of hefty schedules and a grueling attention to the way that you present to any and everyone at all times, there really is only one thing on your mind.

And you can't ignore him forever.

"No, I didn't even know they would be here." A lie, albeit not one intended to delude yourself. "What is with you always thinking I have some ulterior motive to everything?" you joke.

Shrugging, Woori's hands come up into the air as if to express some sign of submission to the questioning. "Not at all! The two of you are just friends! Which means…" A hand comes up to thoughtfully pinch at her chin, and then she says, "Perhaps someone else is on the table, then."

"There's no table!"

"So you've never thought about it? Not even once?"

This question catches you completely off guard, especially due to the seriousness in Woori's tone when she offers it to you. The comical ambiance of the conversation has now fallen aside in favor of something much more intimate and much more real in ways that you had not been ready for, and as a result, you are wholly incapable of dialing back the way in which it makes you reel.

Silence coats the air, your breath caught in your throat and heart racing at the implications of what your leader is asking you. There is no togetherness or bond established in lying, but the fear of what the truth may unearth between you frightens you into a state of quiet shock.

The elevator slows to a stop, a loud beep follows it, and before you have a chance to say anything Woori takes your hand and guides you out towards the celebration.

It is all far more involved than you expected, if you're being honest.

For as far as your eye can see, people from the company, shareholders, and other big monetary players are dressed in expensive suits and smiling ear-to-ear at the conversations of success that surely must be happening. For the most part, you are lucky to be excluded from them all, though it does make the fact of the matter that much more apparent to you.

Within it, is something that you have always known: that you as a person—as an idol—are far and away the least important piece of this entire puzzle to them. You are little more than a tiny, moving part within a grander scheme of something far greater than yourself. Many of these people do not consider you, nor any of the other members, an integral part of making this what it has become. A tiny screw tasked with holding the entire machine together, but easily replicated and replaced should you find yourself coming undone.

There exists many of "you," but far less of them. A finite resource of people capable of assembling that which you have become a part of. 

For the most part, you have made peace with this fact already, and long before the day of debut came. Suppose that you have to, because fighting this machine is a losing battle, and far more often than not it is defeat waiting on the other side. Still, there is only so much solace to find.

The people that bother to take the time to converse with you are nice enough and pleasant to engage in simple, brief discussions with. Some ask your name, because they do not know it despite dumping incomprehensible amounts of money into the project. Some question your position, or even ask about the friends and family that you have forgone seeing in the countless days leading up to this; seemingly none the wiser about the effort and loss someone must suffer to ever see that day on the stage.

They mean well, and you have little other option than to carefully take your leave and find solace in the only two glasses of champagne you are allowed to have tonight.

At the hired bar, you down the final, hefty sip of your drink and set the glass down atop it a little bit harder than you had intended to. Your frustration at all of this creeps out minutely in small gestures and perfectly maneuvered eye-rolls so that the people they are intended for do not actually see them. Perhaps, after everything, you're getting quite good at this acting thing.

"You can't dodge me forever, you know."

The presence of another person comes unexpectedly, and your reaction tells the very same tale. You recoil, head snapping around to the direction from which it has come, but before you're able to fully make the turn, he is already circling around to settle just in front of you.

Sunwoo says, "Not very good with answering your phone nowadays, are you?"

"I'm a bit wrapped up, maybe you remember? Or has the cushy life of an idol well into his years eroded your ability to?"

Eyes narrowing, Sunwoo looks at you like he is trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind the words, as if he does not fully believe that what you are saying is precisely what you are intended to convey. Unfortunate for you, his innate ability to see straight through you.

"Let's go outside," he says, "It smells like every single luxury fragrance ever made all at the same time and if I have to have another conversation about some up and coming ad campaign somebody wants me to do I might just flush my head down the toilet."

Reluctant to follow, you do so with little argument otherwise. Thankfully, the outdoor balcony on the conference room floor is boxed in and heated, though seemingly hardly used by the attendees here tonight.

Sunwoo leads the way, and though the two of you pass by a few forgotten glasses and discarded cigarette butts, signs of life are hard to come by. It isn't especially out of the way from where the remainder of the party is taking place, and though it is far from ideal that you be seen wandering off with him, the people littering the floor are amongst the safest to ever catch wind of it now.

He seems wholly unbothered by the entire thing, and unsurprisingly so.

From this vantage point, the Seoul cityscape below is stunning. Both of you stop for just a moment to take it in, gazing down at how bright and small everything looks from where you stand now. Compact yet grand simultaneously in ways that you cannot quite seem to fathom the intricacies of.

Then, Sunwoo turns his sights back to you.

His suit is nice, and for once, he is wearing clothes that actually fit him. The same person more often than not found in oversized hoodies and baggy pants now dressed in ways that are far more familiar to you as an idol, rather than a friend. It feels a little surreal to look at him now, and that feeling is driven home just that much more once you rationalize the fact that he is here tonight to celebrate you. 

"So," Sunwoo says, "you've been ignoring me."

"I wouldn't say that."

"Well, I would! What else would you call it when I send you twelve text messages over the span of a week and you barely reply to any of them?"

You feign a look of thoughtfulness, as if genuinely considering your next line of attack and then say, "I would say that I'm not ignoring you, because I'm replying! Sometimes."

His eyes roll and he huffs out a labored, somewhat annoyed sigh. "Seriously?"

In all honesty, this is a conversation that you wishfully had hoped to avoid all the while knowing full well that you would not be able to. Not if you intend to keep your friendship with him intact, at least. Thus, with Sunwoo's annoyance evident, you relent to his questioning and give up the fight.

"You know…" you begin, but nothing more follows it for far too many moments. There are many things that you could say; so many things that linger just at the precipice of your thoughts that could so easily mend the most pressing issue that stands between the two of you now. The fact that this—whatever this even is—can't continue forward in the ways that have already begun to blossom. There are easy ways, succinct ways to end this, to put a nail in the coffin of any hope that may be creeping its way inside of what has always been, and always should be, nothing more than a friendship.

And yet they all sit on your tongue, unable to fully come to fruition in the ways that your mind desperately urges them to.

You swallow them all down—tasteless and soon to be forgotten—and simply say: "We shouldn't."

Leaning against the glass encasement with his shoulder and arms crossed over himself, that choice of words appears to amuse Sunwoo because all he says in response is a simple repetition of the word "shouldn't."

Your strength to remain firm in that is quickly dissolving, and with remarkably little insisting from the man standing in front of you, too. It is a rather fast realization that you come to as both of your eyes meet and a single corner of his lips twists up into a sly smirk, that you are not wholly equipped to stand strong in this demand; because it is not a demand, and against your desire to do so, you do not even fully believe yourself, either.

It takes effort to steady your breathing as anxiousness filters up and through your form. Your heartbeat quickens the longer you look at him, and it doesn't take long for you to recognize that look that's seated deep in his eyes.

"Shouldn't," Sunwoo says again, this time accompanied by his arms dropping, and one hand reaching forward to find your own. "Or can't?"

The temperature inside of the outdoor enclosure is regulated, but it is cold outside, and you anticipate his touch to feel ice cold as a result. Quite the contrary, however; Sunwoo's hand is warm compared to your own and easy to get lost in despite being offered so little of it. Your mind swims with the question, the simplicity of it and how easy it can all be should you find the courage to put an end to this game once and for all. 

You don't even notice how smoothly he pulls your body closer to his, and once you do, all you can think about is how easy it can be to once again get away with this.

"Do you remember the first time we held hands?"

Sunwoo brings your hands up together so that the both of you can see them, then gently folds your fingers together in ways that you have many times before. The feeling is familiar, yet foreign; revisited in a way that makes it previously unexplored.

"Of course I do," you say. "My first fansign. I was so nervous, Kevin made fun of me."

"I know, I remember." Sunwoo smiles as he recalls the memory, then says, "When we finished they kept teasing me about the cute girl who was my fan, how I always get the fans who look like they might throw up, which isn't entirely untrue. Apparently I'm intense."

"Do you think it might have anything to do with your willingness to treat every single one of them like they are your real, actual girlfriend?"

Glancing up for only a second, Sunwoo thinks the question over but ultimately decides on a lackadaisical reply of "perhaps."

"Point is," he says, gripping your hand more tightly and continuing to pull your body towards his own. "I remember, too. I remember a lot of firsts between us; first fansign, first ad campaign, first time I slipped you my number at a fansign… as well as the second, third and fourth times because you never actually called or messaged me before the fifth…"

You remember it all just as well, and though you are intent on paying attention to the recollection of events, the feeling of his second hand sliding up to find purchase at your waist becomes unbearably distracting the moment it finds you. Your breath catches in your throat, heart racing as you attempt to find your proverbial footing within the whirlwind of happenings taking place around you. He pulls you in further—against him—the hand once held in his being guided to snake around his back and before you even have a chance to correct the action, you find yourself falling into the behavior with shameful, unprecedented ease.

"So, shouldn't, or can't?" 

The question is repeated in quiet words ghosted across your lips, and Sunwoo lingers in the barely-there space to await your reply. You know the right answer, you know perfectly well what the right choice is, but with every passing day that you have been forced to see him, forced to engage with him, forced to pretend that none of this is precisely the thing that so many of your peers fear that it might be; you cannot help but feel the selfish urge to indulge in precisely the thing that you know you should not.

Concepts of should not and cannot occupy so much of the very same space, you come to discover.

Once the seal is broken, it is so easy to fall back in. Sunwoo kisses you with the kind of apprehension that only a person anticipating rejection truly can, and your only answer to it is to offer him no such thing. Your free hand finds its way upwards to settle on his shoulder, and almost immediately does his unease fall away. Melting into this despite all warnings telling you that you shouldn't, your body utterly betrays any hope of being firm in that resolve. The hand at the back of his neck holds him firmer into you, his hand at your waist snakes around to the small of your back; realistically, this won't go any further and logistically it can't, but the consideration of even that much sends something of a worrying chill straight up your spine.

It's just so, so easy.

You wonder how realistic it could be—in theory—to throw all caution to the wind and allow this to be the thing that it now feels as though it was always meant to be. Yes, you have thought about it, and yes, you have done everything in your power to put those inclinations completely out of your mind. It was never a reasonable, realistic possibility. A whimsical idea that could be tucked into a box and forgotten about with little more consideration spent towards it.

Much of your life now is spent within a balancing act of making sense of oppositional components, with this being no different. The incredible spectrum of will-they and won't-they, with your sanity hanging somewhere in between.

The remainder of your anxiety regarding all of this falls away in favor of simply melting further into him, and you consider one of the most harrowing thoughts of all: If Sunwoo is undeterred by the potential outcome of this, then why should you be?

And then, you are reminded why.

Closer to the door back inside, the sound of someone loudly clearing their voice booms like an alarm to your ears. Immediately, you push yourself away from Sunwoo and fully out of his grasp even though the damage has already long since done. There is nothing to hide and no one to fool, as far as the three of you now stand to be concerned.

Wiping the corner of your mouth gently, you look down at the light smearing of colored gloss that now smears across the back of your hand.

"Well, can't say I'm surprised," Woori says. Her voice is stern and faintly disappointed, though her facial expression gives little away as to what else she may be thinking of feeling upon the discovery. "I'd be lying if I didn't say I was hoping we'd have been a bit further into our careers, though."

"It's really not what it looks—"

Woori snorts a laugh that cuts off your insistence midway and says, "That's going to be a very hard sell, based on what I just saw."

Silence sweeps the balcony, your eyes draw from her and up to Sunwoo, who has nothing more to add to the conversation taking place. A part of you wants nothing more than for him to find some way to absolve the both of you of the consequences from this, but logically speaking, you are well aware that this is far from anything that he has the power to rescue you from.

This is between you and MVNE. 

But rather than engage further, Woori turns and takes her exit from the shared space, leaving only you and the problem that you have done little to attempt to rectify.

As the party begins to die down, you ensure that you and Sunwoo are not to be seen on the same side of the room, much less in each other's more localized vicinity. Some of the other girls find you throughout the night with laughs shared and stories told; no implications that the knowledge your leader has discovered earlier has drifted down throughout the creek. You keep waiting for it, waiting for the moment that a suspicious eye will catch your own, or a pointed joke will leave the lips of someone that you wish not to have the ability to make it and yet… it never comes.

With a stomach full of knots and a third drink stolen, you check the time and the recollection of all of the schedules that MVNE has throughout the next day comes flooding back to you. It's going to be a rough one, the girls will all be tired and have to put on their best performances in so many ways. No time for naps, no understanding from anyone that you had a late night and so you might not be as spry as everyone would hope for. These are not options for you; show up as the exact version that everyone is expecting to see, and do it every single time.

Things will only get harder from here.

You glance around the hall and near the exit, you catch eyes with Woori once again. She nods for you to go to her—much to your surprise—and though you tell yourself that it is in an effort to wrangle the girls for going home, your hopes are swiftly dashed by how quickly she makes her way through the doors. Waiting for you to follow, and no sign from the others.

Once down in the lobby, nobody else is there to greet you. It is only you and the woman who now knows the one thing that you had hoped that no one would ever be able to know, the one secret that you desperately needed to keep secure no matter what.

She stands there on the freshly buffed marble under dim lighting with her back turned towards you, staring out of one of the massive windowed walls that leads towards the street. It's still early enough that plenty of people are making their way to and from places, and though there is nothing to bar anyone from looking inside, MVNE's popularity is not yet that of a group that needs to concern themselves with the privacy of various passersby.

To speak first is to surrender, you think to yourself, and as a result of it you do not say a word. Woori knows she is no longer alone here and is likely gathering her thoughts to best convey the many emotions she is experiencing in such a short time. It is a lot for her to shoulder, a lot of extra potential problems and damage control for her to manage in the event that things spiral out of control in some way. For all intents and purposes, she must assume the worst; that this has been going on for a long time, that you have always been lying about him and your intentions, and that MVNE really has always been merely a means to an end, after all.

You watch Woori turn towards you with a shocking amount of spring to her movement, and even more to your surprise: there is a smile waiting there for you.

"It's not great timing."

There's a hint of humor to her voice that you're not anticipating at all, and though your throat is dry and your heart has leapt up to reside somewhere within it—at the very least—it does a miniscule job of taking the edge off.

"I didn't…" you start to say, and then realize that you are now forced into a position where you have a final decision to make. Either you keep lying despite what she has seen, and what you cannot promise will not occur again in the future, or you finally confess your truth and lay it all out on the table for her to finally have the option to work with. 

Figure, eventually, you are simply going to have to start trusting her to make the right choice. Not only for the group, but for you individually, as well.

And so, you swallow down whatever lie you had originally intended to tell her, inhale a breath long and deep, and then say, "It hasn't always been like this."

"Well, I should hope not," Woori says. "Wouldn't be a particularly good impression of him if it was."

"What I mean is…" You close your eyes, gather yourself and your courage the best that you can in an effort to finally go through with this. "We've been friends for a while. Before I was a trainee. We had already been meeting privately as friends. Nothing more. I really need you to understand that it was never like this before."

The surprise on Woori's face is now evident despite her usual unwillingness to show any such thing. Her eyes never leave you as she takes the information in and processes it to the best of her ability, as if scanning you for any hint of deception that you cannot blame her for being in search of.

Eventually, she says, "What changed?"

A question that even you have spent time mulling over, now humorously presented to you as if you are somehow meant to have the answer to it. You shrug, offer a half-hearted laugh and simply say, "I don't know. Proximity, I guess."

Woori does not respond to that immediately, and instead allows a few moments of silence to hang over the two of you instead. The worried beat of your heart being the only thing you can hear ringing through your ears.

"Is this… going to be a thing, then?" Woori asks, slow and calculated in her delivery of it. "Is this going to keep happening? Is it going to… become more than whatever it already is?"

You believe it wholeheartedly when you answer her, because this has already become so much more than what it was ever meant to be and the thought of weathering anything additional makes your stomach twist with a kind of harrowing discomfort that you cannot imagine bearing the feeling of forever.

"No. No, it's not."

And you mean it.

[asquinate]

In light of recent events I have only one thing to say to you all, *AHEM*

(spoilers ahead for the anime only enjoyers, best avoid this :])

Also bkdk thoughts ahead for my followers who don't care for it, I don't know how many there might be, but just to be safe and considerate to you,

IF YOU THOUGHT ONE PUNY CHAPTER WOULD BE ENOUGH TO STOP ME YOU'RE MORE DELUSIONAL THAN DUDEBRO TWT THINKS I AM. YOU CAN PRY BKDK FROM MY COLD DEAD HANDS. CANON IS MY BITCH AND I DO WHAT I WANT. I DIDN'T SPEND THE LAST EIGHT MONTHS, NEARLY A YEAR, ENJOYING THESE TWO MORONS IN SO MANY DIFFERENT AUS, SCENARIOS, FICS AND FANARTS FOR SOMETHING AS WEAK AS ONE CANON CHAPTER TO STOP ME. THESE TWO LOSERS ARE MY DOPAMINE AND YOU CAN TRY TO PRY BKDK FROM MY COLD DEAD HANDS, BUT I DOUBT EVEN THEN YOU'LL MANAGE IT.

anyway it's late and I'm being lols rn. But I just wanted to put my vibe out here bc I see a lot of ppl being depressed. And while I see why, I also want to put something else not depresso out there too. In the effort of being brief, I will not be stopping making Bkdk or MHA content. And it's not going to be cheating fics or stuff like that. It will be the same soft shit I signed up for. With my other fanon joys like the vestiges and dfo. It doesn't have to be canon for me to enjoy it. This blog will stay pretty consistent with how it has been for the past almost year now. MHA with an Izuku focus and a love for this ship. With other additions, so don't expect any changes from me. Other than more fics in the future. (The Bkdk big bang is coming out in the future as well so…😁). I may be slightly more vocal Abt my liking this ship but I feel like y'all could tell that b4 so?

‼️‼️I WILL be blocking haters or things that don't make me happy bc I'm here for a good time, not to be upset. I am avoiding TWT and all discord servers that I'm apart of that feature MHA for the time being. For my sanity and also watching everyone be sad is bad for my mental health and fandom is about the joys not the losses. At least for me. Also I'm really sorry to the people who feel like the joy they had from this fandom has been stolen from you. Your feelings are valid, but I'm not going to let the haters get another win from me. I hope you all are well and feel better if you're not.

Final notes: BKDK is still canon to me. Katsuki and Izuku are still my favs. 431 isn't real to me, idk what ur talking about? That's a non canon one shot for sure. Aus are my loves, and I won't let this bring me down. I'm actually vibing. Y'all the fics are so good. I may make a rec list fr. Many well wishes to you all, have a good day/night.

[jigglypuff1994]

HIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

I am SO excited to tease my new and upcoming fic as part of the @mlbigbang2024

****

'Dear Ladybug, Love Adrien'

Summary:

Marinette decides it’s time to switch it up when she realizes that Adrien Agreste will never see her as more than a friend. She writes an anonymous letter, hoping someone new will come along and sweep her off her feet. 

While exploring his favorite bookshop, Adrien discovers Ladybug’s hidden letter and finds himself intrigued with the girl behind it. 

Swiftly becoming pen pals, Ladybug and Adrien fill their letters with romantic poems, cheesy puns, and their innermost dreams and fears, both quickly falling for their anonymous pals. 

But as the question of who is on the other side grows, the pair are put to the test. 

Through some faith, silly shenanigans, and a little help from their friends, can their in-person selves find the same spark as their written identities or has their romance been doomed from the start?

****

Teaser:

Somewhere in the 21st arrondissement of Paris, between rows and rows of books, stood a lovesick girl and her patient best friend. 

Last night was certainly… something. Fed up with her nonexistent love life and in a heat of passion, Marinette came up with the brilliant idea of leaving a love letter anonymously, hoping to catch a new beau. 

The girls had been going round and round since. 

Alya, the supportive best friend she was, encouraged Marinette to trust her heart and to go for it! Try something new! What did Marinette have to lose? 

Marinette’s “Sunshine,” one of Alya’s many coveted nicknames for the blonde supermodel, wasn’t any closer to figuring out one of his best friends was absolutely head over heels for him. For four years, everyone at The Nook stood by and watched as Marinette had pined after a certain oblivious boy. 

No matter how many times Marinette waited with bated breath, she would try and fail to woo her crush, leaving her more and more heartbroken. It was so embarrassing! How was it possible to keep tripping at the finish line? Yet, without fail, she found a way. Every. Single. Time. 

It’s almost as if the universe was trying to tell her something. 

Maybe Alya was right, and in Alya’s words, she needed to “taste a new flavor of love.” One that would actually reciprocate her feelings. Someone bold and daring! Someone who would fill out some silly challenge from a letter they found in a book. 

Even though it was Marinette’s idea, she was reluctant. How could she give up the boy who she had been attached to for years? Like a cavity she had grown strangely attached to, with his tooth-rotting goodness, Adrien Agreste had created a hole in her heart. One that she desperately wanted him to fill. 

Marinette fussed with the end of her long, pink sleeve and nibbled on her freshly applied strawberry lipgloss. “I don’t know, Alya.” She stared helplessly, nervous about attempting something like this. “Should I rewrite it? Shouldn't I leave the letter somewhere else? I mean, who’s even going to respond to it? The Merchant of Venice isn’t a love story!” 

Alya sighed heavily, trying her best not to bang her head against a wall. “What are you talking about? It has two different types of love: love within friendship and love in marriage.” 

Marinette paled and threw her arms up. “I’m trying to avoid staying in the friendzone! What if the person gets the wrong idea and thinks I only want friendship?!” Her hands flailed about like a tennis match, back and forth as she spelled out each scenario. “Or what if someone never responds? Or what if someone does respond, but they end up being creepy or someone who I don’t like? Or worse! What if they don’t end up liking me but I end up liking them? I’m basically back in the same position as I am with Adrien!” She placed her head in her hands in frustration and rubbed the heel deeply into her eye sockets, groaning. 

Alya plucked a copy of The Merchant of Venice off the shelf, removed her friend’s hands from her eyeballs and placed the book firmly into them. “Well, if they can't take the hint that you want more from them after all of the hints you dropped in your Ladybug letter then they're just as oblivious as Sunshine is.” She eyed her panicked friend with an amused smirk. 

Marinette stared down at the gently used book and second-guessed herself. She really shouldn’t be doing this. It was stupid! It was completely absurd! She was crazy for doing it! But that’s precisely why she should do it. 

Alya rested her hands atop Marinette's and looked her squarely in the eyes. “Girl, you have to let fate take the wheel on this one. Some random guy could find it, and he could end up being your soulmate. You never know!” 

Marinette tore her eyes from Alya’s fierce gaze and glanced down at the battered copy of Shakespeare’s work. Reluctantly, she opened the cover and took out a folded red letter from her pocket. She grimaced as she placed the letter inside and closed the book. 

Marinette’s head swirled with the absurd thought that someone, anyone, would respond to her Ladybug letter. The letter that should spark someone's interest in her. This book now held the weight of all her hopes and desires in finding the right boy. 

****

Quick s/o to the following:

@aidanchaser for beta'ing and correcting my millions of grammar errors and reassuring me along the way!

@curlyheartart and @i-wiggle-i-squirm-bc-i-am-a-worm for your hard work on the artwork for the fic! Seriously, you both are incredible artists! I can't wait to share the beautiful way you made this fic come to life.

and for everyone else who has supported me along the way :)

[mllemaenad]

The issue with reccomending people to the Wardens is that, unless you're already blighted or condemned for a capital crime... your odds of surviving the joining seem to be significantly worse than 50%.

Alistair says that he was the only member of his group to survive, and the joining at Ostagar had, depending on how you count it, either a 50% or a 33.3333333333333% survival rate.

Those are lousy, lousy odds, even if you are from the wrong side of the tracks. And if you're in your early 20s or late teens, you're probably still cutting your life short, and ensuring that you die alone in agonizing pain down in the deep roads.

It's just... really not a good deal for anyone who isn't already literally at risk of imminent death.

It's not really an issue ..? I mean, I'm not having an issue, and neither is Warden-Commander Brosca, since I assume this relates to my post about Seanna cheerfully recruiting everybody. :)

For a start. Eh. Honestly, trying to work out how dangerous the Joining should be is a mug's game. I accept your examples, but I could just as easily counter that in Awakening five of six companions come through it just fine (Six of seven? Are we counting Justice, since Kristoff survived his Joining?).

If you recruit Loghain to the Wardens, he's fine. If you send Bethany or Carver to the Wardens, they are fine. If you send Blackwall to become a proper Warden, he is just fine.

Honestly, how dangerous the Joining is just seems to be related to how interesting you are. The deaths of all possible recruits but the Hero of Ferelden and Alistair occur because it is imperative that there be functionally no Wardens left – so there can be no more youngsters than that for Duncan to protect. The Awakening companions are mostly fine because we need a new party for a new adventure, so we can't just keep killing off candidates for hours.

I realise that's the most Doylist viewpoint possible, but honestly it's just not worth worrying about. Does the Joining carry with it a risk of death? Absolutely! Do I need to consider it so very risky that one should never offer it to anyone? Nah. It has its share of "everybody lives" scenarios too.

But regardless – I said Seanna never met an apostate, runaway slave, casteless dwarf or petty thief she didn't try to recruit. She's not recruiting people whose lives are going well. Even if they're not facing literal death right this second, these are all people whose lives are likely to consist of crushing poverty, imprisonment, torture, captivity, Tranquility, and an appalling lack of personal agency and dignity.

Are the Wardens kind of taking advantage of Thedas's horrific levels of prejudice and inequality? Yep! They're a bit dodgy, as many of the best things in Dragon Age are. Seanna takes her duty seriously and does her best by her recruits ... but she did get her start as the muscle for a Carta crime boss. Her morals don't have to be 100% pure all the time.

On the other hand – the Wardens largely do deliver on the promise of a better life. Yes, there is a duty and there are drawbacks, but they are one of the few genuinely multinational and multicultural organisations in Thedas. You see elves, mages and branded dwarves in positions of respect and authority. These people can marry, travel, own property, raise children if they manage to acquire any – and genuinely live their lives in a way they very likely would not be able to elsewhere.

How many casteless dwarves will expect to live to a ripe old age? Seanna didn't. There were so many ways she could have died young. And even if she somehow made it past forty (which is hardly old), she was terrified of ending up like her mother – or even worse, out starving on the streets.

Instead of that, and because of the Wardens, she is Commander of the Grey and Arlessa of Amaranthine, and she will absolutely keep telling just about any poor, down-on-their-luck bastard she meets that the Wardens have food and a steady pay cheque, and if the Templars or the slave hunters or the Carta come looking for you, you'll have dozens of your brothers and sisters watching your back.

[kidokear]

I just thought about how Gabriel's victories have been tied- and even attributed- to God and his faith of the said God. Do you know how many things can be done with this??

Right now I'm thinking about his first win (against anyone) after realizing that God is gone or dead. How would that hit him? God is not there so he can't say he won a battle due to- or for- him. It would be Gabriel's victory, fully and completely Gabriel's. Were any of his previous battles won with God to begin with? Was it always him? Would that give him a crisis or would it make him happy? maybe a mixture of both?

One thing for sure. It would reassure him that he will be fine.

[sapphorror]

There's something quintessentially very sibling-ish in Dib's ability to simultaneously maintain his perception of Gaz as a walking personification of nightmare capable of turning his life into a living hell AND as the helpless little sister he needs to protect

[otomotoelzhinee]

I hope that answer was honest cause otherwise I'll look like an absolute idiot here.

This is actually interesting info, cause given the connection they seem to have on the show, while also having a serious lack of information about each other, gives us two options: It could be possible Shrike and Beebs used to be friends when they were younger, and life simply made it's thing and they had to split apart for a long, long time. Finding each other once again as adults and deciding to start a business together for the sake of that old friendship, cause y'know-- Who's better to trust out there to watch your back in such a hostile universe than an old friend?

It would explain why they seem to have this certain level of closeness to each other, almost knowing what the other is thinking, while at the same time feeling like two complete strangers. There was a gap in their lives that they don't know about, and are still not ready to share. It would also make any future reveals sting even more, cause what's worse than refusint to trust someone you used to share everything with long ago? I think it's an interesting perspective on friendship. Things change, people change, life changes. Shrike and Beebs are not the same people they were before, and that's scary. It's scary to be open and honest, to be vulnerable. It's not the same from when you were a kid, when you could swear everlasting friendship at the smallest act of kindness, that's not how things work.

The things they must've seen and gone through by themselves still hurt, and despite their past history together, it's still hard to imagine the other would understand-- why they did the things they did then.

But it could also give them the opportunity to reconnect once again, forming a far stronger bond than ever before, once they're aware of each other's experiences, mistakes, and fears. If they're getting along this well now, imagine how it would be once they feel safe enough with each other. To know for sure, that no matter what happens, they can still trust each other with their lives.

Or. Y'know. Maybe they just met in a random encounter in the current time and began talking, and decided to start a merc company cause they had no one else to turn to, and they tolerated eachother enough to try it <3

[savage-rhi]

🫂

[notmoreflippingelves]

I'm just saying that the Elena of Avalor fandom does not know how lucky they are that they don't have an active k*nk meme the way the Ace Attorney fandom does. Because I am not sure the world at large is ready for the absolute mad head canons, scenarios, and ships I would unleash upon them if only there was a designated appropriate, still-active, adults-only place to do so.

[vigilantejustice]

the bruising + itching has eased up over the last couple days so hopefully that means that whatever was going on was just something funky my body was doing + not a symptom of something else

[luetta]

idk if people on tumblr know about this but a cybersecurity software called crowdstrike just did what is probably the single biggest fuck up in any sector in the past 10 years. it's monumentally bad. literally the most horror-inducing nightmare scenario for a tech company.

some info, crowdstrike is essentially an antivirus software for enterprises. which means normal laypeople cant really get it, they're for businesses and organisations and important stuff.

so, on a friday evening (it of course wasnt friday everywhere but it was friday evening in oceania which is where it first started causing damage due to europe and na being asleep), crowdstrike pushed out an update to their windows users that caused a bug.

before i get into what the bug is, know that friday evening is the worst possible time to do this because people are going home. the weekend is starting. offices dont have people in them. this is just one of many perfectly placed failures in the rube goldburg machine of crowdstrike. there's a reason friday is called 'dont push to live friday' or more to the point 'dont fuck it up friday'

so, at 3pm at friday, an update comes rolling into crowdstrike users which is automatically implemented. this update immediately causes the computer to blue screen of death. very very bad. but it's not simply a 'you need to restart' crash, because the computer then gets stuck into a boot loop.

this is the worst possible thing because, in a boot loop state, a computer is never really able to get to a point where it can do anything. like download a fix. so there is nothing crowdstrike can do to remedy this death update anymore. it is now left to the end users.

it was pretty quickly identified what the problem was. you had to boot it in safe mode, and a very small file needed to be deleted. or you could just rename crowdstrike to something else so windows never attempts to use it.

it's a fairly easy fix in the grand scheme of things, but the issue is that it is effecting enterprises. which can have a looooot of computers. in many different locations. so an IT person would need to manually fix hundreds of computers, sometimes in whole other cities and perhaps even other countries if theyre big enough.

another fuck up crowdstrike did was they did not stagger the update, so they could catch any mistakes before they wrecked havoc. (and also how how HOW do you not catch this before deploying it. this isn't a code oopsie this is a complete failure of quality ensurance that probably permeates the whole company to not realise their update was an instant kill). they rolled it out to everyone of their clients in the world at the same time.

and this seems pretty hilarious on the surface. i was havin a good chuckle as eftpos went down in the store i was working at, chaos was definitely ensuring lmao. im in aus, and banking was literally down nationwide.

but then you start hearing about the entire country's planes being grounded because the airport's computers are bricked. and hospitals having no computers anymore. emergency call centres crashing. and you realised that, wow. crowdstrike just killed people probably. this is literally the worst thing possible for a company like this to do.

crowdstrike was kinda on the come up too, they were starting to become a big name in the tech world as a new face. but that has definitely vanished now. to fuck up at this many places, is almost extremely impressive. its hard to even think of a comparable fuckup.

a friday evening simultaneous rollout boot loop is a phrase that haunts IT people in their darkest hours. it's the monster that drags people down into the swamp. it's the big bag in the horror movie. it's the end of the road. and for crowdstrike, that reaper of souls just knocked on their doorstep.