#about their existance and I have loved them unconditionally ever since

[queen0fm0nsterz]

Incredibly tempted to write an analysis of each member of the Garuru Platoon both individually, in relation to each other, and in relation to their "counterpart" in the Keroro Platoon

[shomatoriashi]

10/02/24; 01:06pm

sung jinwoo x fem.reader

anonymous asked: Hi, I have brain rot hours. So, what about Sung Jinwoo who believes that his significant other is his lucky charm? For example, he kisses them every time before he leaves them for a raid, and always comes back with new soldiers, abilities, or something of the sort. Or, in general, comes out with zero injuries. I know he breezes through raids easily, but it's such a cute idea! >w<

ever since sung jinwoo chose to live his life as a hunter, wishing to provide for his family in the wake of his father’s disappearance-

he always knew you were his good luck charm.

even during the times where he was still labeled as the weakest in the world, he felt that your sole presence was enough to ward off the looming threat of death.

you were someone he had known during his high school years, a mere civilian who had normal parents and wished for nothing more than to live a simple life, even with the existence of gates. you stuck by his side, never once minding his average looks or the way he dressed meekly, wearing plain hoodies and ripped jeans.

jinwoo recalls the day he spoke to you about his goals of becoming a hunter; that even though his powers were a bit weaker and below average in comparison to everyone else, he still had to do something to care for his little sister and sickly mother. and yet despite the concerned eyes that look back at him along with your anxieties, you supported him unconditionally.

that was the moment jinwoo knew he had fallen for you, clinging to you while promising you how he would work hard to build a future together with you. your own kind smile was enough to cause a surge of confidence to go through him, giving him the strength to continue on as a hunter.

now, it became a bit of a tradition for him to embrace you tightly while sharing a kiss with you before attending any raids. your words of encouragement would always echo in his mind, giving him the courage he needed to face the dangers of each raid.

from nights spent tending to his every wound to comforting him each time the nightmares became too much to bear-

you were always there for him, even when he was at his worst.

and you sure as hell deserved him now that he was at his best.

following the events of the double dungeon, jinwoo was able to escape death, obtaining a second chance by becoming the sole player for the system. and through a series of well calculated events, he was able to shed his once meek and weak self, becoming stronger than ever.

now known as south korea’s 10th s-rank hunter, jinwoo quickly became a sought after hunter worldwide, with hundreds upon thousands of people wishing to have him join their guilds or attend certain raids with them.

yet even with this drastic change, one thing remained the same-

and that was you.

you were still his good luck charm.

before entering a gate or doing a mission for the association, jinwoo would still embrace you tightly while giving you a searing kiss, stating how it was for good luck, allowing all of his anxieties and fears to melt away as he basks in your loving embrace. after his kiss, you would always reassure him, telling him that you would wait for his homecoming.

despite how silly it felt to be jinwoo’s proclaimed good luck charm, your boyfriend still swears that you give him good fortune. from mining thousands of crystals that could sell for millions, to obtaining a rare key to a mysterious dungeon, and even having a significant increase in shadow soldiers-

every single one of his greatest achievements were linked to you.

and you prayed that you could forever remain as his good luck charm, especially now during his time of need. not long after jinwoo’s mother woke up from her slumber, a powerful gate appeared in the midst of japan, and jinwoo was torn at the thought of leaving you and his family behind to deal with the raid.

you knew that jinwoo said that the gates had nothing to do with him, that he would remain in seoul.

however, you knew him better than that. jinwoo left your place after lunch, wishing to check on his sister and mother while promising to come back home to you after dinner. you simply gave him your usual kiss and tight embrace, allowing him to go back home as you prepared some things for him.

later that night, jinwoo returns home to see various tupperware containers filled with premade meals that should last a few weeks. his grey eyes widen at the sight of it all, mouth parted in a slight gape as he steps into your kitchen.

“these meals are for you and jinho, when you head to japan.” you tell him without looking back at him, already scooping a new batch of rice into fresh containers with some seasoned side dishes placed within it. “i know you well, jinwoo, and there’s no way in hell you would leave innocent people in need.”

jinwoo remains silent for a few more beats before shaking his head, already coming closer to you. with his arms wrapped around your front, jinwoo pulls your back closer to his chest, placing you flushed against him while pressing a kiss against your temple.

“how could i ever live without you?” he asks you with a teasing tone, eyes filled with love for you. you smile and meet his gaze, matching his expression when you frame at his face with your two hands.

“hm, i don’t know…. but you need someone like me to keep you grounded.”

“damn right i do.” he admits to you with a grunt, leaning in to kiss you deeply. with a sigh, you open up to him, allowing him to deepen the kiss and taste you. he acts like today would be his last day on earth, kissing you like his life depended on it all while delving his fingers into your hair.

when you became dizzy, and the need for air became too much, jinwoo pulls away from the kiss first, smiling down at you before pressing a kiss against your forehead.

“a kiss for good luck.”

you giggle and finish with your usual sentence for him, “and i’ll be here, waiting for your safe return.”

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Could you do a scenario about Nemona, Penny and Arven with a real who has type null please? Maybe something about it transforming in Silvally?

YES NULL/SILVALLY TIME

I have one in Sword who I call "Bestie", and it's carried me through the Crown Tundra DLC. I want it in Violet so badly aaaa

Also this just reminded me of my fic that I wrote prior to Sun/Moon's release. Ya'll can give it a read if you so desire <3

That being said, this scenario will be like a sequel of sorts

........

Revealing Type: Null--or "Nully" as you've affectionately called it--to your friends was something you were initially nervous about...

But today was finally the day.

Moving away from Alola to attend school here in Paldea was quite the stressful journey, especially for your masked companion who had never know any place besides stark white labs and sandy beaches.

People kept warning you about how dangerous it was, but you never listened...and now your bond with the mysterious normal type has never been stronger.

Ever since you rescued it from an Aether Foundation facility that exploded due to its rampage, it put its trust in you and loved you unconditionally.

Learning the truth behind that supposedly "good" organization and its leader broke your heart. Although nothing devastated you more than realizing Nully had been held captive there as both experiment and prisoner.

You've tried researching its species, checking for notes and hacking into secret files the foundation kept under lock and key--and you discovered that Type: Nulls were basically created as "tamer" versions of Arceus, even having memory discs similar to the plates manufactured. They were meant to kill the Ultra Beasts should they invade Alola.

Instead, they went on a rampage (of course, that's what happens when humans try replicating a god's powers) and were confined to masks and put into cryogenic stasis. The whole project was deemed a failure.

As tragic as it was...you were relieved to have found Nully when you did and get it away from that horrible place.

Even so the mask still made it feel absolutely miserable, but unfortunately you couldn't find any further information on how to remove it without causing your precious Pokémon serious injury. There were no visible clamps to unlock, pulling it off would only cause it great pain, and cutting seemed too risky.

The only benefit was that it made Nully immune to critical hits, but the cons definitely outweighed the pros.

Maybe one of your friends knew more about the Type: Null species, and so you decided to call them all over for a picnic if they had free time.

All you could do was pray that they didn't lose their cool and scare your companion.

That's the last thing either of you needed.

Arven was the first to arrive, with Mabosstiff at his heels as usual, but he stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing the bizarre-looking Pokémon standing by your side. You could tell he was trying not to look too worried, considering the poor thing was hiding behind you now.

Still, it's obvious that he didn't have the slightest clue what he was looking at, so you explained everything to him: where you found Nully, why it looked like a rejected Arceus, and the memory discs you kept in a small folder.

So far, you haven't figured out how to utilize them in-battle. But despite the space they took up in your bag, you refused to throw them away.

"Are you sure there isn't a slot for these somewhere on its mask?" He stared at one of the floppy discs, before glancing back up at Nully, squinting. "It looks like there should be one."

"We've been pals for nearly three years, Arven..I'm pretty sure I would've found the slot by now if there was one." Shaking your head, you took it from him, sighing. "My only option is to get that thing off. The slot's probably on its body somewhere."

"Right...maybe there's a stomach hatch or-"

"¡Mira! You were right, Penny! They do exist!!"

"Nemona, slow down!! They're not going anywhere!!"

Hearing the shouts of two certain ladies from afar, you and Arven looked to see both Nemona and Penny coming over the horizon. The student council president was dragging the poor girl by the arm, with her stumbling to keep up and not lose her glasses.

When they arrived, Penny was dazed and annoyed as she scowled at Nemona, tearing her arm free of her iron grasp. But her attention was quickly set on the peculiar Pokémon who was cowering behind you yet again.

"Wow...I..never thought I'd see one up close before.." Adjusting her glasses, she gazed at Nully with interest.

"You've heard about them before?" You asked.

"Back in Galar, I found some top-secret stuff about Macro Cosmos trying to make their own instances. They literally stole the blueprints from the Aether Foundation."

"...yikes." Nemona remarked, tilting her head as she tried getting a better look at Nully herself. "It seems shy. Maybe a battle will help it-!"

"No battles, at least not right now." You smiled apologetically, patting it on the head as you looked at each other. "I know you're nervous, Nully..but it's okay. They're nothing like the jerks back in Alola who used to pick on us. They're my friends. You can trust them, I promise."

Nodding its head, it relaxed its haunches as it cautiously stepped away from your side, gazing at the trio and seeing their smiles, too.

They weren't looks of pity.

They seemed genuinely thrilled to meet it.

It stood there for some time, taking in everything you've said to it and thinking about how far it's come since you rescued it that fateful day.

Somehow, it knew it was always meant to be your companion--from the very moment you held it as it cried in the Pokémon Center, reassuring it that it's not a monster, but a sweet creature worthy of love and care.

Ever since then, your friendship has grew...and now it feels stronger, willing to put its life on the line for you if need be. Even though most of its powers have been concealed, it didn't feel like some weak and helpless lab experiment.

Oh no.

It was far from that now.

Thanks to your bond, it felt unbelievably strong.

So much so that....the normal-type realized an extraordinary change was imminent.

And you were about to witness it.

"Look! Nully's glowing, [y/n]!" Nemona pointed, her eyes widening as your companion was basked in a familiar light. "Is it evolving???"

"Oh my god...I think so." You gasped, never realizing the possibility of it evolving, but you're now certain that friendship is what triggered it at last.

The most noticeable thing were the cracks that started appearing all over its helmet, pieces of what you assumed was indestructible alien material falling apart. Nully shook its head vigorously, trying to get rid of it as much as possible.

Then it turned its attention to a nearby boulder, letting out a cry before performing a move similar to a Headbutt, ramming into it and letting the rock shatter the helmet completely.

At last, it was free.

When the glow faded, you and your friends gazed in awe as Nully looked back at all of you.

With its mask finally gone, what lied underneath it was a beautiful creature made of both nature and machine, with a beaklike mouth that smiled proudly.

"Nully...?" You murmured, stepping closer.

"Ally." It chirped, walking up to greet you.

Tears began forming in your eyes as your grin widened. "I can't believe it...friendship was all it took to-"

Suddenly, your rotomphone decided to ruin the sweet moment by flying out of your pocket.

It displayed a new entry in your Pokedex, and you grabbed it to read what it had to say, while Arven, Penny, and Nemona checked their own phones.

"I see, you're Silvally now." You gazed back up at Null--Silvally, watching it bow its head respectfully. With a small laugh, you mimicked the gesture, before petting it lovingly as you sighed. "Wow..."

You noticed one of the metal bolts on its face open up like a CD player, indicating that something had to go in there-

"Wait.." Remembering the memory discs, you took one out and held it up. "Do you want me to use this?"

Silvally nodded, although before you could do anything, Arven interjected.

"Hold on, which memory is that?"

"The Dark Memory. It probably just changes its type, but I believe this represents all the pain Silvally had to endure while being trapped in that mask, not knowing what it did wrong or why people shunned it for simply existing." You placed a gentle hand under your companion's jaw. "But now I think it's ready to turn that painful memory into power. So let's see what happens.."

"Silllllv!"

Carefully inserting the disc into the open slot, you watched as it closed up. Then you stepped back, seeing the colors and spikes on its body turn smoky black.

Even its eyes changed, and when they opened they looked even more menacing than ever.

And they stared directly at you.

With a low growl, it crept closer to you, while your friends held back..tense and worried that the pokedex entries were correct: this wasn't something you could so easily control.

There was probably a very good reason for the mask-

Yet any hostility Silvally seemingly expressed disappeared, as it smiled and licked your cheek affectionately, causing you to laugh once more. "Hey, that tickles! C'mere you!"

Hugging its neck, you grinned as you received even more kisses, hearing it purr with happiness. You petted its feathery crest, relieved that it completely trusted you now.

"Wow..it's way cooler than Arceus!" Nemona laughed. "Do you think I can battle it-??"

Silvally just shot her a wary look, and she immediately fell silent, a nervous smile on her face. "Haha, you're right. Not yet. But I swear we're gonna have an epic battle one day!"

"Yeah, one day. But for now, I have something special for this big guy."

"Sill?"

You managed to regain its full attention with a simple yet supereffective move of your very own:

It's called "chin scritches", something that none of your other Pokémon could resist receiving.

The mask obviously made it difficult for Silvally to receive proper affection back then...and you vowed to find a way to break it so you can do just that.

Now it was free of that awful and heavy thing, having a brand new life to look forward to: battles, friendships with other Pokémon, and more.

Even better?

Your three closest friends in all of Paldea were here to witness its evolution--a sign that despite all the odds...your bond was unbreakable.

[updownlately]

i want you to be (the only one for me)

| leah williamson x reader | angst | 10.3k | a/n: part II of this fic based on this ask! thank you guys for all your lovely messages on the first part! two months later and we finally got a part two 😅. huge huge s/o to @rockyren for beta reading this! hopefully you guys like this one as much as the first! happy reading! 🫶 (read part i here)

~~~

Two days.

Two days is all it took for Leah to realize how miserable she was. 

If the blonde thought that you being distant earlier was painful, then she was sorely unready for how bad your actual absence would hurt.

There was something utterly unsettling in the way the car seemed so empty as she’d entered it, a lump in her throat forming as her drives to and from practice were now blanketed with silence, a stark contrast to the music-filled joyrides she would have with you. 

From what used to be one hand casually on the steering wheel with the other firmly intertwined with yours was now both hands tightly gripping the steering, knuckles nearly white as they resisted the urge to reach out into the nothingness to her left, to the ghost of your presence, a taunting reminder of what she had and then lost.

Trips that were once accompanied by your shared laughter and obnoxious singing now consisted of pure quiet, the radio long since on mute. Jaw clenched as her eyes would, without fail, get misty each time she sat in the driver’s seat, the empty seat beside her remained a constant reminder of how you’d left.

The drastic change left her feeling hollow, chest wound up so tight as the space in the car felt like too much and too little- felt like it was wrong for the blonde to be here without you sitting in the passenger seat- in your seat. 

She could almost imagine your presence, having become so accustomed to it over the past months. 

Now, every time her hand mindlessly wandered over to blindly reach for yours, all she was met with was cool air and an aching heart, a shuddering breath escaping her as reality came crashing down.

And if the car rides hurt, god the way her chest constricted as she’d return to an empty apartment each evening was another story.

It was as if the hand around her heart was tightening with every passing second as she’d walk through the dark apartment, the weight on her shoulders heavier with each footfall of hers. 

Only her kitbag to be placed by the door. Just a single pair of trainers on the shoe rack. No trailing body behind her own as she’d enter- the once lively four walls now barren, devoid of emotion.

With just her pair of footsteps echoing throughout, only dinner for one to be sorted, grief buried itself in her chest as she flicked on the tv, mindlessly scrolling, shaky breaths escaping as your half finished nature documentaries taunted her on the ‘continue watching’ list. 

Sure, it felt wrong to be here, in your apartment, without you, but she didn’t think she could bear to return to her house, to return to a place where pieces of you didn’t exist- at least not as much as they did here. 

There were snippets of you tucked everywhere in the apartment. In the coffee table that held an ever growing stack of sticky notes you’d never read. 

In the records that were nestled away neatly under the tv, your favourites jutting out slightly, something you justified with the words ‘easy access’ and a smirk as the blonde would complain about them looking messy. 

In the way Leah couldn’t find it in herself to close the blinds, memories of you standing by the large windows overlooking the city at all hours of the day playing painfully in her mind whenever she tried.

And yes, of course there were remnants of you scattered throughout because this was your apartment, but there were also chunks of you because it was your apartment- because you being you, you loved so hard, so unconditionally, so unabashedly, that it couldn’t help but seep into the walls, into the worn-out book covers and spines, into the cushion that permanently rested against the arm of the couch, your tendency to lay on the couch post practice practically a ritual now. 

Love couldn’t help but bury itself in every little thing, each item precious and cared for deeply.

There were hints of you tucked into every inch inside these four walls and Leah couldn’t help but grasp at them in a futile attempt to hold on to your love- love she didn’t know if she’d ever get the chance to be bathed in again. 

So with tiredness buried in her chest, Leah tried her best, collecting her grief quietly as she’d see your favourite mug on the drying rack. Another ounce of it bundled deep in her heart when she couldn’t bring herself to cook in the mornings, too many memories of breakfasts you’d cook as the blonde would be draped across your back lazily as you hummed a song only you’d know.

With a hole in her heart, she’d gotten up these past few mornings, choosing to head to a nearby cafe instead of entering the kitchen- the cold sheets that met her hand as she’d instinctively reached across the bed already ruining her a day that had barely started. 

She didn’t want to talk about how she went out of her way to head to the bakery slightly farther from your house, purposely going past the store nearby that you both frequented often. How she avoided it like the plague since you had left because she didn’t think she could order there without a tear or two falling, silently crying as she ordered.

So while the ghost of you haunted her, as she lived in an home that was yours but a shell without your presence, she quietly begged the universe to convince you to come back, hoping, praying, waiting endlessly for a chance to mend things, because, if she was honest, nothing felt okay, nothing felt right ever since you had left- ever since you weren’t there to love the blonde anymore.

~~~

Before the blonde knew it, it had been a little over three days of your absence.

Three days of Leah quietly letting her heart constrict a bit more, the smile on her face becoming tenser, more forced. 

Seventy two hours of the blonde looking at your contact in her phone, the number staring back at her tauntingly, daring her to dial it. 

Four thousand three hundred and twenty minutes of contemplating whether she should send a text or a call. She didn’t want to pressure you, or worse, make you any more upset. 

Sighing to herself before locking her phone for the millionth time today, she tossed it to the side, head falling ungracefully into her hands.

With every passing second you were gone, with each minute she spent alone, in an empty apartment that didn’t feel like home, the heart of it gone the second you had sped out of the parking lot days ago, it felt as if her world was slowly crashing down, her unable to do anything but watch in horror at the destruction occurring around her.

The most she had seen you since was the practice this morning, you appearing on the pitch mere seconds before it had started, an anomaly considering you’d often be in earlier than needed, wanting to do some of your own warm-ups before practice. It’s one of the things you and the blonde agreed on, her never needing much convincing to join you.

Today though, there you were, seconds before you had to be, once energetic, now quietly running through the drills as you hung your head low, coasting by, avoiding Leah’s piercing staring. 

You ignored the way she shuffled closer to you, inconspicuously taking a step back each time she got nearer. 

You did your best not to shiver as you felt her gaze on you multiple times throughout the two-hour long practice, a shaky breath escaping you as you realized the roles were reversed from the day in the club- except you both were hurting.

And as much as a piece of you craved to gather the other girl in your embrace and take the brokenness out of her dull orbs, you knew you couldn’t- not with the way she had grasped your heart and let it fall so many times before, the poor thing nearly shattered into pieces by now- bits you cradled so gently now as they cut you, doing your best to put them together, scars littering your hands.

Even if you wanted to comfort the midfielder, you couldn’t find it in yourself to, for your own sake, for your own sanity.

And, in your defence, while you had a very likely feeling that Leah wasn’t doing great, her dark eye bags anything to go by, you weren’t okay right now either.

You’d been crashing with Steph since you had left the game that day, and it hadn’t been pretty if you were honest.

Having spent the better part of the first twenty-four hours newly single cooped up in the spare bedroom, you’d been cocooned in one of the fluffiest blankets the defender could find, an old Arsenal hoodie of Leah’s that you kept in the trunk of you car fitted on your frame and matching your bloodshot eyes.

It was only the second night that you had even left the room, head aching from the never-ending tears, blotchy cheeks and swollen eyes, a dead giveaway of your heartbroken state. 

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. 

Hell, it wasn’t supposed to end at all. 

But you didn’t know how many more ‘maybes’ you could take. 

How many more times you could handle taking a photo with the blonde only to be quietly asked not to post it anywhere. 

How many times you could watch as she acted like she was single, only to join you in your bed when night fell and there was nobody but the two of you to witness it. 

You’d been grateful that while Steph had been shocked to find out about your relationship with the English skipper, she hadn’t said a word to anyone else, taking somewhat of an older sister role, immediately protective of you.

It’s why no one questioned the distance between you and Leah, more than accustomed to how you both would only sometimes interact, blissfully unaware of the rift between the two of you, only the left-back in the loop.

So you hid behind Steph throughout the practice that morning, dodging each and every single attempt Leah made to talk to you, counting down the minutes until it would be over so you could escape.

Communicating with the others only as much as you needed to, you ran the drills, grateful that your position as a winger meant you didn’t see much of Leah. 

It was only when it came to five-a-side did you interact with her, keeping it minimal as you quietly asked Lina to switch, you now attacking on the right instead of your usual left to lessen your contact with the blonde.

You held your breath as Jonas announced the teams for five-a-side, only letting it go when play had started and the two of you were on different teams. 

And as you walked to the other side, trading spots, you couldn’t help but take a brief glance at the skipper, immediately turning your head to the side as you saw her face fall, the smallest hints of hurt flashing through her eyes, unrecognisable to everyone but you.

Pressing your arms tightly to your sides, hands clenched into fists as they fought to reach out, you did your best to focus on the movement of the ball. 

Watching it be passed around in front of you, you begged your mind to figure out the lapses in the defence, only for your gaze to fall on the blonde and your mind to go wandering yet again. 

It wasn’t fair that someone could look so beautiful even after sweating for nearly two hours. 

Closing your eyes as the thought ran through your mind, you took a deep breath in before trying to refocus on the game, willing for your heart to get it together. 

How was it fair that even broken up she still had this effect on you, playing with your heart strings ever so teasingly.

You knew loving her had been hard, but you’d never known breaking up with her would’ve been even harder.

Sighing as you got passed the ball, you did your best to stay professional, your broken heart hidden carefully away with the rest of your relationship- a secret heartbreak for a secret relationship, how cruelly fitting. 

~~~

It’s later that same day that Leah’s patiently waiting at home for your return. 

She had hoped that maybe you had changed your mind by now, or at least maybe have decided to swing by in order to grab a change of clothes, or do laundry, or maybe grab that book you had started a week ago. 

Really, something- anything- that meant that she’d get to see you. Anything so that she could fix what she had broken.

You’d been miles away from the blonde at practice and Leah couldn’t remember the last time she felt so small.

Sure, she’d met with multiple sports personalities, royalty, execs of some of the biggest companies for partnerships but she couldn’t recall the last time she felt so out of place. 

The absence of your mere presence beside her, brought the defender a sense of unrest she didn’t know existed. She’d gotten used to having your constant presence around her, a quiet love that manifested itself as relief, any tension almost immediately slipping away whenever you were near the blonde.

With it gone, all Leah could do was sit in agony, searching for a sense of comfort that she knew she wouldn’t find.

Hands balled into fists as she sat on the couch, an old UWCL game playing on the TV, her notebook long forgotten as was her attempt to distract herself by taking notes, the blonde let herself fall back into the couch, palms of her hand harshly pressing into her eyes.

Three days. 

Three days had passed with you not here and Leah was an absolute wreck.

Leg bouncing anxiously, a half-eaten takeout haphazardly tossed into the fridge, hair a mess from the countless times she had ran her hand through it, the blonde was on edge, perking up at the tiniest sounds she heard, hoping that one of them would be you.

But as hours passed, afternoon turning to dusk, dusk to night, Leah sat on the couch, no sign of your return in the distance. 

Fuck.

~~~

Five days.

That’s how long it took for Leah to come to terms with the fact that she was, in fact, in the wrong. 

Five long, lonesome days is what it took for her to realize that there was a difference between private and secret. 

To realize that maybe if she’d been confident enough to keep it private, you’d still be here, in your apartment, in her arms. 

That maybe if she hadn’t been terrified of what people would say, or the focus that would be placed on you both, she wouldn’t be alone right now, heart in pieces, body exhausted, no thanks to herself.

If she was honest, these past few days had given her more than plenty of time to realize she didn’t want to lose you. You were the best parts of her. You loved the worst parts of her and still stayed. 

Yet, here she was, about to push you away with her stubbornness- so stuck in protecting her identity, her career, her future, herself, she blissfully ignored that she’d been hurting you the whole time.

It’s why, even though it was nearly quarter past twelve the night before another training day, the blonde sat in the bed with her laptop in her hands as her eyebrows furrowed at the screen.

Sighing in an attempt to fend off the oncoming tears, she rubbed furiously at her eyes. 

After having convinced herself it wasn’t a good idea to ring up your friends and the teammates you helped close in an attempt to find you, the midfielder had settled upon planning on how she could convince you to give her another chance.

It’s sometime between figuring out whether she should bring you your favourite to practise, wary of the other girl’s reactions, that the defender’s phone buzzes, jolting her out of focus.

Heart leaping at the thought that it might be you, the blonde scrambles to find her phone in the mess of sheets. 

Paper’s flying as dug underneath to locate the source of the vibrations, she could feel her heart pounding, nearly rising to her throat as she pulled her phone from beneath the papers.

Lia. 

The three letters was all it took for her heart to break again, shoulder’s dropping as her stomach sank.

Dejectedly hitting swiping to open the notification, she swallowed hard as she scanned the message, Lia asking whether they were still on for breakfast before practice tomorrow- somewhat of a ritual over the past few months, every few weeks before late morning training a recent tradition for the two to catch up. 

Eyes flickering between the pages strewn across the bed and the tabs mockingly facing her on the laptop screen, the words nearly typed themselves as Leah watched.

‘Can’t. Got plans. Sorry.’

She had more important plans tomorrow….namely to get her shit together and get you back. 

Not bothering to wait for a reply, mind already determined, she threw her phone away and let herself fall back into the head, praying that the gamble she was about to take would work.

She could only hope.

~~~

Five days. 

Five days without a single text, a single phone call, a single voicemail.

Leah had five days and you had zero indication that maybe she ever even wanted you at all. 

Sighing to yourself as you dropped the phone onto the couch beside you, you could feel Steph’s judgemental stare.

“You could just call her, y’know? Phones work both ways…”

Eyes shooting over from where you were looking out the window, you shrugged your shoulders in response, a cold shiver running through you, mind a mess.

“I could…but why…”

Swallowing to hold back the tears that you knew were coming, you shifted in your seat in an attempt to get rid of the anxiousness in your spine. 

“I could, but she’s had the time to as well. She’s had five whole days for fuck’s sake. And what did I get in that time? A text? A call? Any indication that maybe she misses me? Misses our relationship? That it meant anything to her? None. Not a single one Steph.”

Closing your eyes as you felt your heart clench as the words that had been floating around in your mind finally rang through the quiet house, you clenched your hand in a fist.

Wiping away the one tear that had escaped with your other hand, you took a shuddering breath before continuing. 

“I’ve spent the last two weeks wondering if I was ever good enough for her- if I ever meant anything to her. Two weeks telling myself that maybe she cared an ounce of what I do. That she actually wanted me in her life, in her future.”

“And you know what? You know what Steph? I don’t think she does. I don’t think so. Because maybe, maybe, if this all meant anything to her, something to her, I wouldn’t be having this conversation with you right now. Maybe she’d be with me. I’d be in my apartment, with her, wrapped up beside her. But I’m not. I’m not and she’s not the one beside me. She’s not, and I think that’s telling enough.”

Breathing heavily, your heart pounding as you felt it constrict, you did your best to swallow the lump in your throat and pick your book back up.

And as Steph stayed quiet, you silently wondered if you ever meant anything to the blonde, the question continuing to haunt you as quiet voices in your mind answered with resounding ‘no’s’. 

~~~

The drive the next morning to practice is silent, but Leah’s mind isn’t.

Variations of apologies are floating through, the blonde testing the ones she likes out loud, wincing as they gradually sounded worse and worse.

I’m sorry that I didn’t treat you right.

I’m sorry that I hurt you so many times…give me one more chance?

I’m sorry for being a daft.

Inwardly sighing at how dumb the last one sounded, she shook her own head.

Maybe she’d just let the moment guide her, let her heart say the words. Surely it couldn’t go wrong, right?

You’d always been a sucker for romantic, heartfelt confessions, constantly swooning when the two of you would watch romance movies, you nudging the blonde and making little comments whenever the lead actor did anything chivalrous.

Taking a handful of deep breaths as she pulled into the parkade, the blonde parked swiftly as she noted the time. 

Fifty-three minutes before practice…surely you were going to be here soon. 

Armed with her kitbag, cleats, two coffees, and a small bouquet of sunflowers- your favourite- Leah trudged inside, face set in a determined glare, quietly glad that no one else was here yet. 

~~~

At this point, Leah figured that if you even showed up at all, it’d be a miracle.

There was something humiliating about sitting in an empty locker room, bouquet of flowers in hand, two coffees, and only one person. 

If Leah looked hard enough at the ground, she was sure she’d find the piece of her breaking heart there. 

She’d been hopeful as she had entered the room, fifty-one minutes before anyone was due to show up, six minutes before you typically used to show up.

By the forty-fourth minute before practice, she wondered if you’d hit traffic on the way in, or maybe lost your trainer (you had an uncanny habit of losing just one- don’t ask Leah how, she didn’t know either, but she found it for you each time).

By the thirty-seventh, doubt started to creep in.

What if you were finally, truly done with her shit.

What if that last game had unknowingly been your last straw- her last chance.

What if you’d finally given up and moved teams because of the blonde.

Maybe you’d found someone else.

As each thought got more ridiculous than the previous, anxiety creeping up her neck, Leah could feel herself sink further into her own locker, her coffee long gone, yours nearly frozen. 

At the twenty third minute, cutting it close to when the rest of the girls were about to come in, the skipper picked up the flowers and her own broken heart, placing the bundle gently at the bottom of your locker in a desperate plea that maybe you’d see she wanted you back. That she was willing to try.

Pouring out the last of your coffee in the sink as loud voices of fellow teammates neared, the blonde quietly tucked away the sinking feeling in her stomach, holding her breath as she strained her ears to find your voice.

If not before practice, then she’d catch you afterwards. She needed to.

Silently hoping you’d see the little note she’d tucked in the flowers, a failsafe she had ready (thank God), the blonde plastered a fake smile as the door to the locker room swung open, making her way to her own locker as she greeted everyone but the one person she wanted to see the most.

She didn’t know how long she had left, and most definitely didn’t want to test it out. 

~~~

Cursing to yourself, you sprinted into the change room just minutes before practice started, nearly crashing into the door before you just barely managed to get it open.

God, you were late.

You’d come in separately this morning, foregoing riding with Steph to instead look at new apartments this morning.

Since the night you’d broken up with the other girl, you hadn’t yet visited your home once, not yet ready to face the harsh reality that no overconfident blonde defender would be deftly coming and going as she pleased. 

Coupled with the fact that too many memories that you couldn’t bear to recall would haunt you if you ever returned, you’d decided late last night that going back to your old apartment was a definite no.

You were pretty sure that you wouldn’t be able to enter the apartment without wanting to instinctively remind Leah to rack her shoes properly as she entered behind you, the blonde often opting for kicking them off regardless of the innumerable times you told her off for it.

And you definitely couldn’t enter your own kitchen, memories of failed dinners as you’d to teach the blonde to cook, the two of you always eventually ending up somehow distracted, food overcooked or burnt as the blonde would try to stifle a laugh at your incredulous expression, before you’d burst out in laughter as well, reaching for the take out pamphlets. 

The bedroom was most surely off limits too, countless, countless, nights of the two of you spent late into the morning talking about nothing and everything, sometimes just holding each other in silence as you bathed in the other’s presence.

Walking through the halls would be a whole ordeal of itself as well, pictures of the two scattered throughout, pictures that the others had never seen because Leah would beg you to take them down the few times you had people over.

It’s that final thought that had you clenching your jaw hard, your eyes narrowing as you made your way over to your locker. 

Cautiously setting your kit bag on your seat, your head tilted to the side as you took in the easily recognizable yellow petals that sat at the bottom of your cubby.

Only one person knew that you were a sucker for sunflowers, one person who’d just recently broke your heart. 

Holding your breath, you reached towards the bouquet, the card stock jutting out of it begging to be read.

‘i’m sorry for how many times i’ve hurt you. you probably don’t want to hear from me and that’s fair but i want you to know i’m  sorry and i want to do whatever it is i need to  to fix us. i still love you and i can’t think of a  future where i’m happy and you’re not in it. i probably don’t deserve it, but could i please get one more chance? i promise i  won’t let you down.     - yours, lw’

Eyes tracing over the words, all you could think was why now? Why written out? Surely, she could’ve said the words aloud to you if she’d truly meant them, having more than enough time over the past week, and really the past couple months of your relationship. Why was it that even though they were expressed, did your relationship still feel like a dirty secret- a small card tucked in the flowers that could be from anyone, signed with initials rather than a name. 

And how were you supposed to believe her this time having heard these words countless times before? How many promises were you going to watch her break? Each and every time, why was it you giving her another chance to break your heart again and again, letting her stomp all over what was already broken, brutally smashed and beaten by no one other than her.

Surely you deserved better- better than a couple of flowers shoved deep into the bottom of your locker, accompanied by a card that was nothing more than ink on some paper. 

Shaking your head to pull yourself out of the spiral you were going down, you tossed the card back onto the bouquet, instead bringing your focus back to getting ready for the training that you were more than definitely late for now.

You were a strong believer of second chances- but for your own sanity, it’d be better if you stopped now, at the thirtieth or so that it was- one too many to have kept count.

~~~  

It’s you running sprints at the end of practice, the understandable punishment you’d received for being late, the rest of the girls slowly filling out as Leah tried to find some excuse, any excuse really, that she could stay back and wait for you.

She’s grasping at nothing, sputtering an incomprehensible reason to Lia as the Swiss is pulling her by the arm, inside.

With the brunette only tightening her hold as she disagreed, Leah had no option but to dejectedly follow.

“Nope, no. Not today, you cancelled on me....you better have a good reason.”

It was just the blonde’s luck that Lia thought the defender was avoiding her, trying to stay back so she wouldn’t be questioned on missing breakfast. 

Unbeknownst to her though, if to no one else, it was clear as day to Lia that something had occurred within the past few days between the two of you. 

She wasn’t blind to the way her work wife suddenly seemed ever so slightly disconnected during training, mind seemingly eons away- a surprise considering the blonde prided herself on giving 110%, even during practice.

Combined with the way you’d stormed off a few days ago and the nil interactions the two of you had had as of late- something she didn’t think was just a mere coincidence- she figured that right now, you deserved your space, and Leah likely a telling off, if the fact that your sunshine mood was in the dumps and the blonde exuded waves of nervousness was anything of a sign.

Somehow managing to wrangle her English counterpart away from the field, Lia led the blonde away from the locker rooms, instead choosing a secluded hallway near the back ends of the stadium to confront her. 

Turning around sharply once she deemed they’d walked far away enough, Lia fixed the other girl with a questioning stare, her best captain’s stare if she said so herself.

“So what’s really going on?”

Swallowing hard at the accusing question, Leah contemplated telling the truth for just a second.

It would make it easier…

“What do you mean?” Instead, feigning innocence- not wanting anyone involved in the mess she created, she tilted her head in faux confusion.

Confusion that the Swiss woman could see right through. 

“Cut the bullshit. You and I both know there’s something going on…You can either waste both our time denying it until I eventually go and ask her…or you can tell me and we can at least get somewhere. And I know which one I’d pick…”

Leah could read the silent threat in the midfielder’s eyes. The slight eyebrow that was raised no doubt indicated that she wasn’t messing around, more than ready to go and confront you about everything. What she also knew was that if it was Lia talking to you, you wouldn’t hold back.

The choice was clear, really- but the defender didn't choose it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

Leah watched as the woman in front of her eyes narrowed, jaw tightening as she tilted her head back in a ready challenge.

Please don’t call my bluff.

All the blonde could do was pray silently.

“Okay.”

One word.

One word was the reply the blonde got, Lia staring at her silently for a second longer before marching away, a determined weight set on her shoulders. 

It’s fear that has Leah blindly reaching out, her hand connecting sharply with the Swiss’ wrist, pulling her back before she could make it any further. 

“Promise me you won’t ask her about this. You can’t Lia…please…”

Nearly begging, the skipper, eyes silently pleading, held on tightly.

“I’m going to ask this once, and only once more…Leah what happened?”

She could either tell Lia of how she’d failed to treat you right and get absolutely bashed for it, or she could push it under the rug once more, make a lame excuse and get out of this.

Sighing deeply to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose, the blonde made her decision. 

Maybe it was time she grew up. 

~~~

You do your best to hide your surprise as you walk into the locker room and don’t see Lia or Leah, the absence of LW squared making your heart leap into your throat, thoughts you knew were nothing but blasphemy clouding your mind.

You knew they were work wives, nothing but platonically of course. You knew they prided themselves on being the best of friends on the pitch and off it. You knew there was nothing more going on between them- well, at least you hoped, for you didn't know what you would do if they were anything more. 

The thought that you’d never been enough for Leah still floated around your mind. You weren’t a crazy striker, or a mind-blowing defender. You were a midfielder that just so happened to be pretty good at their job, but that was all.

You weren’t special. You weren’t the captain of your national team. You weren’t heavily sought after for brand deals, you weren’t the popular, favourite player that Leah was- the player nor partner she deserved. 

You were simply you- and you didn’t know if that was enough for the English skipper.

Your thoughts get interrupted by the thump of the door hitting the stopper, two distinct voices echoing through the hall as the owners make their way in.

Leah and Lia.

Willing yourself not to turn around, you take a peak out of the corner of your eyes, immediately regretting your decision. 

The pair was close- Leah had an arm slung over the other girl’s shoulders, a soft smile on her face and the Swiss captain had her own arm around the English skipper’s waist and it did nothing to ease the rampant thoughts in your mind.

They were both sharing hushed words, indifferent to the few stares in their direction, too consumed in their conversation to bother paying attention. 

It was only as Lia gave Leah a gentle squeeze in the side-hug that they had going on did the pair break up, the two still sticking close together as they headed towards Leah’s locker. 

Turning to face your locker, your eyes caught the bright yellow of the petals, jealousy anger coursing through your veins as what used to be your favourite laugh rang out. 

Hastily grabbing the card and throwing it back into your locker to be dealt with later, you stared at the sunflowers peering up at you. 

Ironic that of all the days to receive them, you’d gotten them when the world felt anything but full of sunshine and rainbows. 

Making the quick decision, you quickly grabbed the bouquet on your way out, ignoring the questions being shot your way from the teammates that heard the unmistakable sound of the cellophane. 

Quietly letting Steph lead you out the door, you quickly glanced behind you in a silent prayer that Leah still cared for your presence- that she was looking at you.

She wasn’t.

Tossing the flowers into the nearest bin as a sour expression crossed your face, you helplessly let the thoughts of the past two hours take a hold of your heart, the poor thing constricting ever so painfully.

Clenching your jaw and hastily tossing on your headphones, you shouldered your kit bag, more than ready to get out of here- to go to a place that felt more like home than your apartment now ever would.

With you long gone before Leah even leaves the change room, you don’t get the chance to witness the way the blonde stops talking mid-conversation as she’s leaving, her stopping in place as her eyes notice the golden petals that peeked out from the top of the bin. 

It’s why you’re unknowing of the way the blonde’s heart shatters a bit more, her eyes widening, heart sinking, and head immediately hanging low as she processed the bouquet unceremoniously dumped in the trash.

And with a rough shrug to get out of Lia’s comforting pat, instead wiping away tears she refused to let fall in the presence of the few remaining teammates, Leah hurries out, discussion on how to win you back momentarily forgotten as she focuses on soothing her aching heart.

~~~

It’s a couple days later that the weight of you leaving makes itself known again to Leah. 

The past few days, the blonde had been silently stewing in the memories of you two, but had been fortunate enough that there weren’t any new stark reminders of your absence. 

But now, if Leah was honest, the feeling of you not near the blonde as she walked off the pitch post-game felt like a stabbing pain in her chest.

It was odd, the way wins didn’t feel like wins as of late.

Not when you weren’t by the blonde’s side. 

Euphoria wasn’t an emotion she felt of late, but with the absence of you in your rightful spot to the right of the blonde as she walked around the pitch, misery stung the blonde harder than before.

The high Leah (rightfully) expected after the win against United didn’t come.

It didn’t pounce on her immediately as the whistle blew at the end of the game.

It didn’t hit her like a truck as she headed towards the locker room.

It didn't sneakily creep up on her as she entered a locker room full of her fellow teammates dancing in celebration, music blasting, the joy palpable in the room.

All that sunk in was the gut wrenching feeling of regret in her chest as she timidly watched you make your way to your locker. 

For the past few days, three or so having passed since she last saw you at training, the blonde had been crashing with Lia, not that you would know. 

She’d been actively visiting your apartment, trying to find any signs of life there besides the three plants of yours she’d been watering in her visits. 

Each time though, she was left with not a single trace of you, it evident that you hadn’t been home yet. 

It was just slightly over a week of your absence, and with each passing day, Leah was losing a bit more hope, a bit more of her sanity, a bit more of her ability to feel anything but despair.

So it didn’t surprise her that the exhilaration of the win didn’t come. It was the norm. It was the norm for her now that she’d gone and fucked up. 

Rubbing a hand over her face as the sight of her teammates came into view, Leah tried to will away the spiral of thoughts in her head, headache imminent with the lack of sleep she’d had these past ten days. 

Sighing to herself at the pounding music in the room, the blonde hung her head low, trudging her way to her kit bag as she pretended to yawn in case anyone asked about her foul mood. 

If she’d looked up once though, she’d have seen your concerned look. 

She would’ve saw the way you had involuntarily turned to face the blonde as she entered, your arms itching to reach out and pull her into a hug, as you had done many times before in the safety of your own home.

But she wasn’t yours anymore. She wasn’t yours to hold, to hug, to comfort, especially anywhere but in the four walls of your apartment.

So you’d brought your arms taught around your own body, giving yourself a hug as your heart sank, a shaky breath escaping you as you closed your eyes, letting the overwhelming emotions wash over you. 

~~~

It’s as the girls are leaving the locker room that Katie remembers to invite Leah for the celebratory night out the team had planned. 

You’d been asked immediately after the game, the Irishwoman surprisingly able to sense the change in your mood as of late, doing her best to try and make you laugh more in the past few days to try and silently uplift it, bless her. 

You’d thought about going. Considered getting more than friendly with Millie, your last conversation with Leah replying easily in your mind. 

Maybe if you’d make her jealous she’d realize you still existed. 

But just as quickly as those thoughts crossed your mind, you shook yourself out of them.

If she couldn’t see your importance in her life, you weren’t about to go and beg for her to see it. You couldn’t show her something that wasn’t there.

Having then declined the offer, you’d cited your tiredness as an excuse.

Now though, you tried to act nonchalant as you eagerly awaited Leah’s answer, well aware that she was one of the last people asked.

Maybe she’d wonder whether you were. 

The blonde was tired, that was clear for all to see. But would that be enough for her to spend the night in? 

Would your absence mean she’d go home in misery, or was the blonde okay? More than over you, ready to move on?

You wondered if she’d find someone to bring home tonight. Whether she’d spend the time at the bar (that they’d inevitably, somehow end up at). Would that someone be better than you? Better company? A better girlfriend?

Hearing the immediate cheers following Leah’s quiet hum of agreeance and quiet ‘why not?’, you bit the inside of your cheek. 

God, how could you be so naive to think she’d ask if you were going?

And as your thoughts spiralled again, you felt a gentle hand come to rest on your shoulder, Steph protectively stepping into your space as she could practically feel you fall into the rabbit hole of your mind. 

“Let’s go home, yeah?”

The both of you having agreed that Australian would drop you off at her place before heading out with the team, you adamant on her enjoying the win and her night, you let yourself be led out, increasing the volume of the headphones on your ears to drown out the world, and more importantly, your mind. 

~~~ 

The air’s chilly and Leah can’t help but wrap her arms around herself a bit tighter in a futile attempt to stave off the cold.

She’d expected the crowded club that the team had arrived at to feel stuffy and hot, but it wasn’t the case. 

All the blonde could really feel was the cool breeze she couldn’t locate the source of and a constant shiver in her spine as she saw practically everyone but you there. 

Having waited all through dinner praying you’d show up, and then convincing herself you’d be there as the team decided to move things to a club, the blonde felt stupid for not remembering how you hated cramped social gatherings like these.

For the months that you were together, Leah had gotten accustomed to spending nights in, cherishing them actually, for they gave her the breather she so rarely got. 

It’s why she’d love it when you’d often pass up the nights out, giving Leah the perfect opportunity to leave events early, a smile on her face despite being called variations of ‘old’ and a ‘party-pooper’, the thought of going home to you more than overpowering the salty accusations. 

The few times you’d both gone out together with the team, it’d always ended with you two sneaking out of the celebrations early, revelling in the chaos or peace of the night as you’d trek home, more than content to be in each other’s presence.

It had gotten to the point where the few date nights the two of you had consisted of Leah convincing you to stay in. The decision was a mix of not wanting to be in the public and getting you all to herself, but she’d never tell you that. 

And yeah, sure, she’d avoided you on the nights that you’d both be out, surrounded by teammates and friends celebrating god-knows-what, but she swears she did it for your own good. You didn’t need the press, the comments, the voices that came along with the fame.

At least she made the decision you didn’t. 

It’s looking back now that she realises the implications of her actions, her avoidance of you no doubt a joke- her only failing to protect you from any hurt, instead being the one to cause you grief.

God, she really treated you and your relationship like shit…

Shaking her head to herself, mood already soured with the lack of your presence, Leah excused herself from Lia’s side, heading to the table and grabbing her coat. 

There wasn’t a point staying. Not when you weren’t there too. 

Bidding her goodbyes and ignoring the pleas to stay longer, Leah shot the Swiss captain a grateful look as she distracted a tipsy McCabe away from trying to convince her to stay. 

Taking a deep breath as she exited the stifling building, the blonde began her trek home, lost in her thoughts, wary of the empty apartment she’d no doubt be returning to. 

~~~

Steph had texted you early on in the evening, letting you know that Leah was at the dinner, and you didn’t know whether to be glad or not.

All you knew was that it was the perfect opportunity for you to finally grab your things, a change of clothes, something you desperately needed now that winter was finally kicking in. 

You’d expected the blonde to be gone at least a few hours, so you’d taken your time to show up, grabbing dinner before you had made your way over. 

What you hadn’t expected though, was the blonde cutting her night short- the clock reading near half past nine taunting you as you heard the familiar jingle of keys as the front door opened. 

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest- hell, you could hear it, as you listened to the sounds of the taller girl kicking off her boots, something you would tell her off for time and time again. 

Holding your breath as you heard Leah hang up her keys and drop her clutch on the island as she always did, you wondered if you had enough time to escape. 

Surely, you could sneak out, right?

Shaking your head at the stupid idea, you looked around you, contemplating on how you were going to get out of this.

What were you to tell the blonde? That you weren’t kicking her out of your apartment? That you instead were moving out, already having talked with your tenant about likely cancelling your lease soon. You wondered what Leah would think you’d ask for her set of keys back- for her to take her stuff to her house as you’d empty your apartment.

You wondered if she’d then realize that she’d likely ruined the last good thing you had going for you, a house you’d been staying in for nearly two years now, a place you cherished deeply but now needing to say goodbye to. 

Sighing as you took in the sight of your clothes scattered around the bedroom, clothes you’d been sorting into a ‘yours’ and ‘Leah’s’ pile, you waited to hear the movement of the blonde. 

It was only as the trudge of footsteps padding down the hall reached your ears did your throat go dry, body freezing as you anxiously anticipated seeing Leah in your bedroom for the first time in over a week. 

Swallowing hard, you wondered if this was the beginning of the end, or the end of the beginning. 

~~~

Leah didn’t know how she didn’t notice the light peeking out from under the bedroom door. Nor how she missed your infamous Converse tucked behind the door. 

All she knew was that you were here. 

Here, in your apartment. 

In your shared bedroom.

And all the blonde could do was stare at the sight of you looking like a kid caught stealing out of a cookie jar, the various piles of clothes scattered around you making you look tiny.

Flexing her jaw a few times, the midfielder struggled to find any adequate words, a quiet ‘what?’ the only thing she was able to muster out. 

There’s a blanket of silence that covers the room after the word, the pair of you rooted in your spots, staring at each other. 

It’s only as Leah realises that the hoodie currently in your grasp is one of her old England ones, from camps eons ago, does the silence break.

“Wait a second- I’ve been looking for that...”

Furrowing your eyebrows, your shock long gone and anger replacing it, you did your best to keep your voice level.

“That’s your concern?”

This was the first and only chance the blonde had gotten to you since you’d broken up with her, and her concern was the hoodie you were holding. 

“You know what? Fuck off.”

Throwing the hoodie at her with all the rage you could muster, you watched as it softly hit your ex in the face, Leah pulling it off as her eyes widened. 

“Okay wait! Wait. No. Sorry. It just took me off guard…” 

Rubbing her neck sheepishly, the blonde brought the hoodie behind her in an attempt to brush over what just occurred. 

Shaking your head because of-fucking-course, you pinched the bridge of your nose, pausing for a moment before realizing just how utterly done you were with the blonde already.

Waiting a second to see if she’d continue, to see if she’d ask you how you were, what you were doing, or better yet, apologise, you sighed as silence overtook the room once again. 

Checking your watch, you figured that if you ran through all you needed to, you could be out of here by half-past-ten, a whole hour earlier than you had originally planned for. 

“Listen, all I need is like an hour then I’ll be out of your hair.” 

Muttering the words, disdain clear in your voice, you started speeding up your actions, sorting the pile of clothes behind you and tossing everything that was yours into the open suitcase.

It took a minute for the defender to understand what she just heard, to comprehend what she’d witnessed.

One hour and then you’d be gone? 

Taking note of the clothes scattered across the room and recognizing her extra pairs of pyjamas and trainers in the decently-sized pile on one side, garments that looked distinctly like yours in the other, the blonde felt dread sink in.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait…what do you mean ‘out of my hair’?”

It’s as the weight of the words sunk in did Leah step into the room, squinting her eyes as her mouth fell open slightly, body rigid with concern.

Sighing deeply inwards, you ran a hand through your hair, pulling it slightly in an attempt to stave off your annoyance.

“Leah, I’m moving, yeah? It’s about time.”

You watched as the hoodie fell from the blonde’s hands, dropping unceremoniously  into ‘your’ clothes pile as she swallowed hard.

Yes the pair of you weren’t together anymore, but this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You weren’t supposed to move out, much less out of your own apartment, that’s for sure. 

Shaking her head as she felt her heartbeat pick up, panic in her eyes, Leah closed the distance between you.

“You’re not moving out.”

The statement was nothing of a question, hands going on her hips as the blonde eyebrows furrowed.

“I know I hurt you, but you can’t move out.”

Watching an exasperated expression cross your face, an expression that Leah was all too familiar with, having seen it every time she declined your request to post a picture of the two of you, she dropped her own shoulders, closing her eyes in defeat. 

“Please don’t move out.” 

Please don’t leave me.

“Please.”

Sorting the shirt that was in your hold, you placed your hands behind you, letting your weight fall on them as you leant back, head thrown back, eyes fixed firmly on the ceiling you were very much used to seeing on lazy mornings spent with the blonde in front of you. 

Making sure your voice was steady, you closed your eyes as you spoke. 

“We’ve broken up. One of us needs to move out.”

“No...”

“Leah…”

“No.”

The second ‘no’, firmer and coupled with a definitive tone in Leah’s voice had you appalled, your eyes opening as you righted yourself and faced her

“No? Leah, I’ve spent enough time seeing you with another woman outside of this apartment. I’m not in the fucking mood to see it here as well, in my apartment.”

You waited to see if she’d offer to move out instead, considering this was your place after all. 

You waited, only to be met with silence. 

Guess it was a good thing you didn’t wanna stay here anyways. 

“I mean it. Please don’t go…”

The timid voice had your shoulders dropping. 

Sure, she broke your heart, but it didn’t mean you were heartless.

Deciding to humour her, for your own sake- you wanted to see just what her justification would be, you hummed in response.

“Why?”

She’d broken your heart enough. So why was it that she was asking you to stay? 

You watched as the always-confident blonde wrung her fingers, her head hung low as she stared into the ground. 

“I still love you…”

The weight of the words blanketed the room in quiet. Or it might have been the blood rushing in your ears. Either way, you couldn’t believe what you were hearing- unable to do anything but sigh in response, mind a frenzy. 

Racking through your brain to find the right words to say, you curse at the universe for aligning so maliciously. 

“You can’t just say that.”

“Ba-“

“No.” Cutting her off, your voice raising slightly, you bit the inside of your cheek.

“You can’t say that. You can’t say that when you’ve practically been a stranger to me any place outside of these four walls. You can’t say that when all you’ve done is gone and break my heart multiple- Leah, multiple times. You can’t say that when you haven’t once rung me in the week that we’ve broken up. You don’t get to call me ‘baby’ anymore and you don’t get to say those three words anymore.”

You’re breathing heavily by the time you finish, having gone and stood up at some point during that rant. 

Eyes level with Leah’s as there’s a defiant look in your eyes, you wait.

You wait to see just what excuse she’d come up with this time.

“I didn’t-“

Lips pursing, you rolled your eyes. You knew how these words always ended.

“Let me guess…you didn’t know if I wanted to hear from you, yeah?”

You watched as she nodded sheepishly, nearly curling into herself as your voice got sharper with each word. 

“Y’know…I told myself that maybe if I waited long enough, that you’d eventually care enough. Told myself that if I tried hard enough, loved you enough, was a better player, a better girlfriend, maybe I would’ve been good enough for you. That you’d want me as much as I want you.”

You watched as Leah looked at you, it clear that she was itching to say something, but you continued. 

“I spent the last week with my ringer on, do not disturb off, hoping you’d call. Hoping you’d text. Send me a message, someway, somehow. Anything that would let you know me breaking up with you killed you as much as it killed me. And what did I get? Nothing.”

Your voice is quiet as the final word slips through, the both of you staring at each other, the room an outright mess with the clothes strewn around, suitcase open beside where you were sat.

Truth be told, you didn’t want this to end. 

You didn’t.

All you wanted was for Leah to realize your importance in her life. And whether that was good or bad, you wanted to know where you stood- because you’d stick around if she loved you, but you couldn’t bear to stay if you weren’t wanted. 

You couldn’t light a candle in the rain. 

Watching as Leah flexed her jaw once, then twice before inhaling deeply, you felt a chill go up your spine as anticipation slowly killed you. 

“It hurt more than I could ever imagine…”

The confession was quiet, barely a whisper, but it had your attention, and it didn’t go unnoticed by the other girl.

“It’s killed me every time I’ve come to this apartment alone y’know? Every single time I’ve walked into this place and you’re not behind me yelling at me to put away my shoes properly.”

Swallowing her emotions down and steadying her voice, she continued.

“Do you want to know how wrong it felt, driving to practise without you beside me? Without your humming and singing? Or how much it sucks not being able to stand beside you at practice. Or how the only thing I’ve wanted these past few days is just one of your hugs- the ones you give me when you know I’m not feeling well, too tired to do anything but cuddle you?”

“It’s stupid, but I’ve visited- stayed- at your place nearly every day since our breakup, hoping each day that you’d come back and I could- we could talk. That I could make it up to you. I’ve missed you. I really have. More than anything else ever- I swear. Spent the first night and the second too, on your couch, hugging your favourite cushion and your international hoodie.”

Smiling bitterly to herself at the memory, the blonde wiped away the few tears that had escaped.

Feeling your eyes starting to sting as you remembered just how gruelling the first few days had been for you, you quickly wiped away the one lone tear that managed to escape, holding back the oncoming sniffles.

Feeling your chest rise as you did your best to loosen the anxious feeling in your chest, you stayed rooted to your spot, too afraid to move for fear that Leah would stop talking.

“Did you read the note?”

The question was small, especially after the large confession just moments ago, and it had you nodding in response, scared that you’d break the atmosphere in the room if you spoke too loud.

“I-,” Leah cleared her throat, running a hand through her own hair as her gaze met yours again. 

“I meant it y’know? Seeing you and just you in my future? I wanna fix this…us. I’d really like to fix what I broke, if you’d let me.”

Biting back a grimace because wow, were you really about to give her the power to break your heart again. The one thing you told yourself you wouldn’t let her do- not anymore.

“I don’t know how to trust you again…”

You knew the words were harsh, but they were the truth.

How could you trust someone that single handedly broke your heart over and over again. 

Holding your breath as you watched Leah slowly step forward, inching towards you until she was merely inches away from where you stood, you wondered if you could ever let the blonde back in. 

“One chance is all I ask for. I’ll earn your trust again, I swear. Just please don’t go. Please don’t leave me.”

You watched as her fingers flexed, jaw clenching and unclenching as the blonde fought herself internally. 

As she made a decision, you smiled at the way the little crease between her eyebrows disappeared, a place you loved to kiss whenever the blonde was upset about the movie you’d choose for movie nights. 

So caught up in your memories, you were only jolted out of the dreamland your mind went to as you felt Leah hesitantly grab your hand, the touch cautious and feather-like as she tried to gauge your reaction. 

Looking down at your intertwined hands, you bit your lip, one question floating around your mind. 

“Are you planning for us to continue being a secret or…?”

Closing your eyes as you waited for her answer, you wondered if this would be the last time you’d feel Leah’s touch. 

You knew you couldn’t bear to be a secret. You liked private, sure, but all you really wanted to do was be you. Be you and her, and be able to show the world that, without bounds. 

“No.”

Eyes flying open, you narrowed your eyes at Leah, surprised by the confident tone, so sure of herself, so assured, that it nearly had you convinced. 

“And if you let me down?”

“Then I’ll leave your life myself, just say the words and I’ll go. But I don’t plan to let you down. Not again. Not ever. I don’t want a life without you. I’ve had a taste of if, and fuck, I needed that. I needed that because I know I’d rather deal with everyone’s comments, everyone’s judgement, their prying, their invasive questions, than lose you.” 

Swallowing hard at those words, you felt your shoulders relax, mind and heart practically numb with the overwhelming emotions you were feeling. 

Words a whisper, tears silently falling down your cheeks as the weight of the past week hit you, you prayed that you never felt this type of hurt again. 

“Hurt me again and I’ll break your kneecaps alright?” 

And letting yourself be pulled into the taller girl’s embrace, you let yourself sink into her hug, a warmth you’d missed so dearly, so fervently in the past few days- a hug that even the best Calvin cuddle couldn’t compare to, you let out a sigh.

Things weren’t alright yet. They weren’t going to be for a while. 

But this was a step in the right direction. A step you’d take, praying to the universe that it wouldn’t let you fall- at least not without someone to catch you. 

You just hoped it would be Leah- she was the only one you wanted to catch you when you fell. You just had to trust her word that she would. 

[mukimokai]

okay no cuz why is every kinich ship valid smh

TW: LONG ASS RAMBLING BUT FUNNY SILLY CUTSIE I PROMISE

kinlani is kinlani. like omg have you seen them: sunshine social butterfly girlfriend and her introverted moon boyfriend that she loves unconditionally. And it's a new concept for her once abused boyfriend who thinks everything comes at a cost: who gets confused when Mualani just loves him without asking for anything in return and he just loves it so much it makes him weak for her; he'd do anything for her without asking for payment like he does with anyone else because she helped him heal and she's his darling little wife who he'd do anything for.

ajawnich (ajaw with the ability to go into human form because seriously. we NEED human ajaw in more ways than one) is your typical doomed mortal x immortal tragedy in which a dragon who is new to human emotions and thinks lowly of humans slowly starts to understand humanity over the years with his infuriating yet kind human companion. Both are emotionally constipated fools; Ajaw pining like a lovesick idiot because he's supposed to hate his companion and want him dead but when that day of death finally comes, Ajaw feels no joy or happiness: just empty as he looks himself in the mirror, touching his face, or, well, Kinich's face.

oronich (idk the ship name, but also it exists lol) is two characters who are seen somewhat as outsiders by their own tribes: Kinich, while loved by most of the children, has a negative reputation for his job while Ororon is seen as a problem child and cast out of society. The two ostracised characters coming together in a doomed "we're kinda similar, aren't we?" Eddie Munson and Chrissy Cunningham style (from stranger things, sorry chat) and forming an unexpected yet wholesome and definitely welcome bond with each other (they'd tend to their garden together).

lynich (a rarepair!! a popular rarepair is a miracle honestly) is two traumatized boys, the flirt and the flustered. One who speaks the truth outright, and one who's every word is a lie. One who thinks everything comes at a price, and one who thinks everything is a trick. When Lyney tells Kinich about his connections with the Fatui, Kinich isn't mad, surprised, but not mad. How could he be? When he knows why Lyney joined? He accepts him with open arms, Weighing the costs, befriending a member of the Fatui would most likely leave him out of their shadier affairs since Lyney would never harm him, right? Right. Even when Lyney succeeds Arlecchino, Even when he becomes a harbinger, even after everything: they're together, despite all the complications there are.

basically yeah. every kinich ship is valid rn. those are the popular ones at least-(ororon and kinich is not popular but it has more content than any others I've seen and ppl actually talked abt it at one point so it's being included)

citlali and kinich is being excluded bcz that's p3d0philia: fanbase, that was your lesson for shipping characters before we even know anything about them/before they're even released smh (/lh lololol)

-

to my unfortunate realization: kinlani is poppy and branch smh (singing killed his father and made his mother run away, okay). They're basically every cliche quiet boy and cliche loud girl duo ever in history and they have that absolutely based opposite aesthetic duo vibe going on and it's wonderful i love them to bits and pieces chat.

-

ajawnich is princess and the frog in which ajaw turns into a pixel dragon instead of a frog, or beauty and the beast in which ajaw's seal is the rose curse thingie, or both. or fluttercord, cant forget fluttercord. or billford, cant forget billford either. take your pick with them honestly.

-

oronich is chrissy and eddie, could also see it being christine and raoul from phantom of the opera in which ajaw is the phantom, kinich is christine, and ororon is raoul.

(wait that's genius, im a fucking genius chat. someone make that an AU and credit me right NEEEEOW.)

-

and lynich is kinda just there i dont really know anything else to compare it to but it's giving that one scene in tom and jerry where it's like: "I love you. *smothers in kisses* Why, you set my soul on fire. *smothers in kisses* It is not just a little spark. It is a flame; a big roaring flame. I can feel it now *smothers in kisses*" (the person doing the kissing and talking is lyney in case you couldn't tell LMAOOAO)

-

anyways yeah

basically kinich harem i guess

i love being a multishipper because i can collect ships like a bitch and fawn over so many a time whenever i want >:3

also i love the whiplash between some of these: like kinlani and oronich were so wholesome and then you have AUGHHGHG angst with lynich and ajawnich smh.

sorry for rambling lmao but yeah

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

This morning, 15 minutes after the break in fighting was supposed to begin, Hamas fired two rocket barrages into southern Israel. This is what we mean when we say that Hamas has broken every ceasefire ever. The only reason why this didn't lead to the hostage deal falling apart, is because Israel chose to "contain" Hamas' violent rocket attack. But remember this when we explain why we can't accept Hamas' existence anymore.

Israel confirmed that the 13 hostages being released have arrived in Egypt, and there are already Israelis there, taking care of them. IDK when we'll get their names, and images of them safe back in Israel, but as you can imagine, everyone here is holding its breath for that. Still, their well being comes first, they're being taken to a hospital first, to see their families, and only then (and based on whatever they prefer) will there be anything more public. There will not be interviews, however, 'coz something they say might risk the other groups of hostages meant to be released in the upcoming days.

Hamas is also releasing some of the Thai nationals they've kidnapped (I heard 12 of the 23 taken hostage), which are being let go of unconditionally. Before anyone tries to make out this shows Hamas is humane, I'll just point out that Hamas terrorists murdered at least 33 Thais on Oct 7.

Some of my fave commentators recently on what's going on here since Hamas' massacre aren't Jewish, or even Israeli. Here's a few of their tweets:

Regarding the last one, I just wanna say that most Israelis will continue to trust most Arabs. That's just how we have always lived, despite the on going terror attacks. The day after Oct 7, I mentioned that I went to my hospital treatment. The guard there is an Arab guy. He carries a gun. I couldn't help but think about it. And then I did what I always do, I thanked him for his work (being a guard is difficult), and wished him a good day. He smiled big and wished me the same. He's lovely. What Hamas did on Oct 7 is not his fault. But the mistrust of survivors, and some of those who care about them, is also very human and understandable, as much as I'll continue to call on everyone not to generalize about Arabs, or any group.

Especially when some of Hamas' victims are themselves Arabs. Here's a young Israeli Muslim Bedouin woman, who has been speaking up on behalf of her friend, 17 years old Aisha al Ziadna, who was kidnapped by Hamas on Oct 7.

A Sky News reporter was particularly shameful the other day. She tried to use Israel's willingness to release 3 convicted terrorist per just 1 innocent civilian hostage to vilify Israel. Here's the reply she got:

Just a reminder, once again, that when you listen to western media, which is supposed to be objective, these are often their info sources on this conflict:

Speaking of lack of objectivity, an Israeli newspaper found out that the International Criminal Court has appointed a Danish lawyer to investigate the Israel-Hamas war, and it's a man (I'm not sure I'm transcribing his name from Hebrew correctly, but it should be something like Andreas Laursen) who has worked in the past for a Palestinian "human rights organization" which has been outlawed in 2021 for having ties to terrorist organizations, who was involved in 2018 in trying to make the case that Israel had committed war crimes, who has lived in the Palestinian city of Ramallah, and who is married to a Palestinian woman. This Israeli newspaper has contacted the ICC, asking why the person appointed to this investigation isn't someone who would at least appear to be unbiased. The answer was (I'm translating from the Hebrew article): "We maintain confidentiality about anything that pertains to specific subjects that are related to our employees. Every personal decision made by the head prosecutor fits the policy and relevant procedures that oversee the court's human resources matters."

Because there are still people denying the Hamas rapes:

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by כאן חדשות (@kan_news)

I've spoken before about Liel, and how long it took to identify her body, but this tweet kind of broke me all over again.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[grayson1996]

Just a little ficlet I thought up! ***

“I miss my mom.”

The admission was quiet, but Dick saw Jason’s head snap up from his phone, gaze indiscernible as he surveyed Dick. Probably trying to figure out what brought the confession on.

“Ok.” Jason said it like a statement, but Dick could hear the question in it.

“I miss how warm her body felt when she hugged me. I miss being able to bury my head into her stomach and breathe her in…. I miss breathing her in. I miss having a mom and knowing what it’s like to be loved by someone unconditionally. I miss growing and having her there to notice.” Dick got quiet a moment, a little unsure if he should continue sharing, but he felt the need to anyway. “Sometimes I miss being the youngest. My cousin was a few years older than me, all my friends at the circus were. Hell, even the Titans were. I miss being the one cared for. You know?”

Dick saw Jason set down his phone and turn to face Dick head on. After a moment Dick turned as well and matched his brother’s gaze. The confusion that was there making way to understanding.

“Yeah. I know what you mean.”

Dick felt himself relax slightly at the reassurance, closing his eyes he sunk deeper into his living room couch that the two were currently occupying.

“I miss wearing clothes that weren’t replaced as soon as they got holes. And I miss dishes made with cumin and cinnamon. And I miss my dad. God, I miss him so much. He was so calm Jay, he always smiled, he always knew that things were going to be ok, you know? He sang all the time, and no one sings here.” Dick felt his throat close at the realization, not even realizing all this was weighing on his heart until he let himself feel it. “No one sings here, and sometimes I forget about all them. It’s like my life is on auto-pilot and I just don’t think about it. But then I remember and it’s like my body is ripping itself open from the grief and I can’t... I can’t- just”.

Jason shifted in his seat, pulling Dick toward him as he started to get worked up. Breathes coming out quicker than intended. Dick let himself be manhandled into an awkward sideways hug. Unsure of where all this was coming from. For a moment it was quiet as Jason held him until his younger brother let out a heavy breath.

“Sometimes I miss my old apartment. Stupid, you know? The place was filled with water damage and mold and my Ma and I shared a shitty lumpy 20 year old mattress that should have been torched years ago…. But it still was mine, and now it’s gone.” Dick felt Jason shrug, arms still wrapped around him.  “I think what people forget is, that to be human is to find the good memories in bad. It’s how we go on. That’s why everyone says grief is a gift, it means you loved someone so much that you get to miss them.”

“That’s stupid.” Dick muttered defiantly, grinning slightly when Jason laughed. “Grief isn’t a gift, it’s the cost of getting to love.”

“Careful Dickie, your dangerously close to sounding cynical and that’s my shtick.”

“I didn’t say it was a cost I was unwilling to pay.” Dick pulled himself back, leaning onto the side of the couch to face Jason once more. “I just wish I had more time to save up before I had to cash in.”

 Jason nodded, leaning back himself, though still watching Dick with a careful eye.

“You don’t talk about this often.” Another statement, one Dick knew to be true. He never talked about his parents, not since his current family started to grow.

“Bruce never talked about his parents, for awhile I think I thought grief was locking away memories until they faded into existence. When I realized that wasn’t the case you guys were here and I didn’t want to bring them up in case you felt like… I don’t know… I didn’t love the family I had now?”

Jason stared at him dumbly for a moment.

“That’s the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever said Goldie and that’s including the time you tried to convince Wally, B was a vampire.” Dick snorted at the memory, which Jason smiled at. “Remembering what you lost doesn’t negate what you have, and the adage that time heals all wounds is misconstruing. It doesn’t mean the injury stops hurting, hell your fucked up knee acts up every time it so much as showers. Just because something isn’t actively gushing blood doesn’t mean its fine, doesn’t mean you don’t still need to take care of it.”

Dick let out a heavy breath, he had forgotten how intuitive Jason could be.

“Yeah. You’re right.”

“Course I’m right, I’m the only one of you fuckers who consistently reads books without pictures in it.”

Dick pushed him roughly but without any heat, dodging the pillow Jason tried to lob at his face in retaliation. For a moment the two tussled, feeling younger than they had in a while. Only stopping when a wayward elbow sent Dick’s lamp thudding to the floor. Slightly out of breath Dick nudged Jason with his foot, the joviality making way for genuineness.

“Thank you. For letting me talk about them.”

Jason gave him a small smile, one without the useful veneer of snark.

“Anytime.”

[yellowocaballero]

So fucking glad to see someone talk about SSS Class revival hunter 😭 I lived it so much and I feel like no one ever mentions it against more popular titles like ORV or even The Lout of the counts family, so I'm so glad to come here and see your amazing takes :>

Thank you for the ask which lets me talk about SSSCRH (the version I read was titled 'Suicide Hunter', which tbh I like more - no beating around the bush).

It's hard to draw an accurate comparison since I'm going off just the webtoon for SSSCRH, while I'm going off both the webtoon and the webnovel for ORV. And I love ORV, ORV is my media blorbo right now, it hydraulic presses my brain, I am writing ORV fanfic - it's, like, funner to enjoy. But SSSRH is just better. In the vast majority of ways it is is better. It's better than the holy trinity by a wide margin. TW talk of suicide obviously.

I can't believe I'm saying this but you need a basic understanding of Buddhism in order to understand SSSCRH. It's not about Gongja's suicides - he doesn't suicide from depression or lack of self-esteem. SSSCRH is about suffering in the Buddhist sense - dukkha. I don't want to make this an essay, so I might reblog this with more information, but extremely shortly:

The Four Noble Truths of Buddhism is the truth of suffering, the truth of the cause of suffering, the truth of the end of suffering, and the truth of the path that leads to the end of suffering. You've heard that Buddhists say 'life is suffering'. To put it one way that doesn't require defining a lot of words: the cause of suffering is experiencing the world as we percieve it instead of how it truly is. Suffering isn't just being miserable and in pain, and life isn't suffering because life sucks and global warming exists and people voted for Trump. Life is suffering because we can experience beautiful and joyful moments in this world, but we do not exist in the moment of that happiness or place our ego/'self' between us and that happiness. Living in that moment, accepting the moment as it is unconditionally, is freedom from suffering. The Buddha tries to free people from suffering through teaching Buddhism.

"What does this have to do with the webnovel and manwha about a guy murdering himself thousands of times" it has everything to do with it. Because SSSCRH is about suffering, and it is about using suffering as a tool in order to experience a world unfiltered by ego and break down the artificial boundaries between human beings. Suffering in SSSCRH is not a bad thing. Gongja has the unique capability to (reincarnate.) experience a person's suffering in unity with them, which dissolves the delusion of separation between people and puts us in touch with the reality of oneness.

The Murim arc was fucking insane because Gongja pulls a Big Bodhisattva Move and walks through the suffering of the world in order to achieve full understanding of the human experience. He takes all of the suffering of the world into himself and is liberated. You can tell it's Buddhist because death was not presented as a bad thing - death was an aspect of a happy ending for the Heavenly Demon lady, because she was finishing her life according to her own joy, and because her teachings were passed on she did not truly die.

But the purpose of embracing suffering is to discover the ability to fully embrace life, and that's where Heavenly Demon's teachings were incomplete - as the ghost dude said, Gongja hasn't even experienced his own full life and the infinite capability for his own happiness. You can only feel the depths of sadness when you've felt the depths of happiness. Sadness deserves its place in the world and it can strengthen you, but so does happiness.

Gongja is attention-seeking, envious, and unbelievably petty. When he drills down into his own desires and why he wants the things he wants, you see that he has a very strong sense of justice and right and wrong - he realizes he doesn't want to be famous, he wants to be acknowledged, but on an even deeper level he is desperate for love and to be loved. Everything he does is to experience love, and as such he learns to love others. His love for the Flamey Asshole was purely parasocial and ego-filled, with no concern for who he was as a human. Throughout the manwha, he grows to care for people as they truly are and pierce through any delusions or misleading outward appearances. He has released all attachment to life and death, and as such does not fear death, and as such has taken a step on the road towards becoming a Boddhisatva who frees others from the cycle of samsara, and as a result has learned sick sword techniques and is sooo good at beating people up.

I think the only other thing I want to mention here because otherwise this is an essay: in almost every time loop/regression story, only the final regression matters. In stories with dungeon monsters and NPCs, only the humans matter. The regressor exists in a space where there are no consequences for their actions, so they act terribly and do whatever because none of it matters. In Groundhog Day Bill Murray acts like an asshole because he can. That's not the case here. Everything Gongja does matters. The NPCs are fake, but Gongja never treats them as anything less than real people who deserve life. Once he understands a person's life he never treats them as unimportant. No loop is thrown away and no person or life is disregarded. His choices matter, the way he treats others matters, and Gongja never treats anybody as if they don't matter except for himself.

That was not short. There is a lot more. The female characters are so good and so rich. From a craft perspective it is excellently paced and has a wonderful sense of set-up/payoff and balances tone and maintains a lot of momentum, which is really hard in a time loop story. You have to do a few very specific things to write OP characters well and SSSCRH does it very well. There's more to say from a craft perspective and it's hard to judge accurately from a webtoon but it's good. I was so strangely struck the entire time about how sincere and genuine it was, how it said what it said with no trace of irony of confusion, and I think that's what stuck with me the most.

TL;DR: SSS Class Revival Hunter is good for a lot of very normal reasons, such as excellent pacing and set-up/pay off and characters, but it's also so sincerely and genuinely Buddhist that it blew my tits clean off.

[starbylers]

Mike ‘rejecting but accepting’ Will cannot co-exist with Will getting a happy ending

Even when I try to genuinely picture a scenario in which we get an ‘I accept you’ ending to Byler (it’s not happening this is just a thought exercise lol) I just…can’t? It's impossible to do without sounding like someone who's never read or written a story in their life:

Mike says 'You'll always be my best friend but I'm straight and I love my girlfriend sorry' and then what? They just never talk about it again? Ignore the elephant in the room every time they're together? Mike can't do anything to help Will with this, other than distance himself to make it easier but it's practically confirmed they will be a team next season so that's not happening. Will is not a robot, he won't just stop loving Mike because Mike says he's straight. Will already believes Mike is straight and in love with El, and yet his feelings are strong as ever. They won't just disappear, it would take time and active effort.

So if this 'rejection' happens early in the season (giving Will actual time to feasibly move on), if his arc was really to 'get over Mike', is he just going to hang around the rest of the season feeling sad but trying to forget about it? So it's just another season of Will being in unnecessary emotional turmoil...and then one day he just kind of does forget about it and the storyline fizzles out? What even is that. Like try and picture how this would actually play out on screen, it's ridiculous to even consider.

The only solid place Will's acceptance story could go after confessing to Mike is coming out to his family (and hopefully the party) which we obviously all want for him and I hope they get a really beautiful scene, but the problem is the audience knows everyone will love Will no matter what (he might not know, but we do and we are the target audience here) so there's no stakes. The only real stakes in Will's coming out from a storytelling perspective is how Mike will react (it’s the only uncertain variable), and if we get this very early on in the season (giving Will time for a believable 'moving on' arc) his storyline would be incredibly anti-climactic, it would have peaked and have nowhere else to go. It's not like he's going to date someone else.

And if we don't get the 'rejection' early on, Will won't have time to feasibly get over it (especially since we already established that being rejected and moving on would not be an automatic process for someone as unconditionally in love as Will is with Mike), and he would inevitably end the season unhappy. But we know that's not happening so...

And no him getting over it during the time-skip is still not logical or good storytelling, it would be a cop-out and an unsatisfying plot device. Like Will confesses and is rejected by the boy he loves then it’s the next episode and he just doesn’t care anymore and the whole storyline is dropped? If it was an early season time-skip, then he’d have no real personal arc for the rest of (majority of) the season. If it was a mid-late season time skip, we’d still have him either pining or trying to move on (which is a painful and hard process for anyone) for the whole pre-skip, depending on when exactly the rejection occurs.

It's not that Bylers think Will couldn’t ever be happy without Mike but it's that the narrative as it's set up is not going to accomodate that whilst also adhering to basic storytelling principles (and without the writers letting a gay character constantly suffer with no pay off). He will either end up with Mike, spend the season hurting/pining/struggling again but by the end it just sort of fades into nothing (‘moving on’), OR they will drag his unrequited love to the final episodes guaranteeing his unhappy ending. Anything else would be nonsensical and unrealistic aka him just being fine and happy and completely over it right after he's rejected. Or them completely forgetting about the build up of this storyline with the excuse of a time jump, cutting short his personal arc and leaving the character with nowhere to go. These are literally the only options for the end of Will's story, and the only one that is happy and is objectively the better-written story is Byler.

[cilil]

Day 3: Ulmo | Timeless Halls, Almaren, Valinor, Romance

✧˖° Characters: Ulmo, Manwë, Eru, Varda, Melkor ✧˖° Pairings: Ulmo x Manwë (possibly onesided), Manwë x Varda (background) ✧˖° Headcanons

› Ulmo was created shortly after Melkor, Manwë and Varda and was therefore 4th Ainu overall to come into existence.

› The truth about his birth is that, aside from his element being important for the making and shaping of Arda, Eru made Ulmo specifically to serve as a companion to Manwë; the same applies to Varda.

› This is why Ulmo has always felt a great connection to and love for Manwë and possesses a keen eye for Melkor's evil, as does Varda. They're both needed to protect Manwë from his brother abusing his lack of comprehension regarding evil to influence him.

› Ulmo being made this way has come with the unfortunate side effect of him loving Manwë deeply, unconditionally and perhaps more than he should. While Eru made both him and Varda as companions, he decreed that Ainur can only have one spouse, and Manwë ended up with Varda, leaving Ulmo by himself.

› He's still as loyal as he's always been and does his best not to be jealous, but sometimes can't help it. Ulmo has at times found himself getting irritated at Varda for what he perceives as her not being gentle or caring enough with Manwë, but out of respect he's never voiced such concerns.

› The first ages of Arda is the time Ulmo remembers most fondly. While Varda was working in space and occasionally fending off or distracting Melkor, he was helping Aulë shape Arda together with Manwë and had his beloved by his side. His favorite creations are the clouds and rain they made together, being as close and intimate as two Ainur can be without being lovers or married. Yavanna may or may not have seen this, but chose not to comment.

› After Melkor arrived in Arda and caused trouble, Ulmo was among the first to rush to Manwë's side to help him, as did Varda soon after. Unfortunately for both of them, they were no match for Melkor and could do very little whenever he decided he wanted to hurt his brother.

› When their labors concluded and the Ainur made their first home on Almaren, Ulmo quickly realized that the (mostly) happy times he spent with Manwë were over, since Manwë was going to live together with Varda and among their kin on the island, while Ulmo sensed that his home would always be in the waters of Arda. He doesn't feel comfortable on land for too long.

› Little has changed in that regard ever since Almaren was destroyed and the Valar moved to Aman. Ulmo rarely joins councils and instead prefers to occasionally appear on the shores near Taniquetil or in the pools of Ilmarin to meet Manwë.

› He has never lied about his efforts to help the Children, even when the council had officially said not to, and Manwë is in tacit agreement with him. As the Elder King, he has to "behave" on the outside, but is glad that Ulmo sees himself as more free in his role and does what they think is right and could be helpful.

› Ulmo is not sure whether Varda is aware of or has ever suspected how he secretly feels about Manwë, but hasn't said anything to her and neither has she to him. He feels that he's been a faithful friend despite the longing sometimes plaguing him and should therefore not be denied Manwë's company.

› Unfortunately for Ulmo, Melkor has become aware of his feelings and misses no chance to taunt and belittle him. He may have even offered Ulmo to "give" him his brother if he agrees to serve him and help him become King of Arda, which Ulmo has furiously declined.

› Ulmo has had little success with and interest in finding other partners and companions (if you want me to put a label on it, I'd say I see Ulmo as demiromantic and/or demisexual).

› He maintains good relationships with his Maiar - with the possible exception of Úmaiar who have defected for various reasons - and the Vala/Maiar relationship in his household can be summed up as "my weird but nice and funny uncle".

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @blauerregen @bluezenzennie @edensrose @elanna-elrondiel

@i-did-not-mean-to @just-little-human @stormchaser819 @urwendii @wandererindreams

@ainurweek

[miraculousmultifan]

Foreigner's God

This fic was written for the @strangerthingswritersguild's Hozier Project where we each chose a song from Hozier's self-titled album and wrote a one-shot inspired by it. I chose Foreigner's God.

I also crossposted this fic on AO3 which you can read here.

Here are the tags (the fic will be under the cut):

Ship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Other Characters Mentioned Additional Tags: Presumed Dead Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Eddie Munson, Kas!Eddie, Post-Season 4, The Five Stages of Grief, Angst with a Happy Ending, Struggles With Religion, Mentions of Atheism, Ambiguous/Open Ending

Warning: I want to clarify, since I was having some struggles finding the right tag, that there is a lot of discussion about Christianity (namely Steve's relationship with Christianity and faith as well as his own grievances with other Christians and things like "how God chooses who gets a miracle"). My family is Christian, so there's a little bit of my own self-projection with Steve's internal monologue, but this is in no way meant as "Christianity Bashing"

If any of that is something you wouldn't like to read, I suggest you don't continue. This has been your warning! :)

Denial.

Kneeling over the man’s prone form, Steve refuses to believe he is truly dead. They get back to the trailer quickly, so surely there’s still a chance that he could make it. Right?

The Upside Down rattles with earthquakes, but Dustin’s tears are still louder in comparison. The man’s not dead because that would mean he left Dustin to grieve. He wouldn’t do that, so he’s not dead.

Steve dips his head down until his cheek is suspended a thread above his lips, waiting to feel a soft brush of air to prove that he’s still breathing. He wraps his fingers around his wrist like a pathetic excuse for a hand-hold as he tries to find a pulse. He stays like that for much longer than he needs to in the hopes of feeling a puff of breath, a thump of a heartbeat under his skin. 

It will come. It has to. Because he isn’t dead.

Nancy and Robin pull Steve and Dustin away from his body, even as their own bodies shake with sobs. The ground trembles as another earthquake runs rampant through the Upside Down, splitting the ground and spreading cracks through the dirt.

One by one, everyone leaves the Upside Down through the gate in the ceiling of his trailer. Without–

They leave him lying there. They leave him to rot.

Not that he can rot. Because he isn’t dead.

Anger.

Steve used to be a Christian. Back before the Upside Down. Back before he was pushed headfirst into actual hell.

He wasn’t exactly devout. He definitely didn’t follow the “no sex before marriage” rule or anything. But the faith aspect? The belief of a God that created them? An all-powerful, all-knowing, all-loving God? He believed that. He wanted to believe there was someone with the ability to protect them. To look after them.

Then he had to fight a six-foot, slimy, petal-headed monster to protect Jonathan Byers and Nancy Wheeler. The same monster that made Will Byers go missing. The same monster that killed Barb in his pool. Where was God then?

God doesn’t exist. There is no possible way the God that is supposed to love them unconditionally and protect them would create something hell-bent on tearing apart every living being it came across.

Some people might assume the demogorgon, the Upside Down, all of it has to be the work of Satan. Steve knows better. Satan is only supposed to tempt you to sin. His goal is damnation, not death. That’s what he wants. Not vicious, violent creatures that kill innocent people for fun.

So, after Carver comes back from everything alive, surviving the earthquakes and rifts in the ground, and tries to spew bullshit about the kind of people God loves and the kind that he sends to hell, Steve knows he’s wrong. What ever happened to “love thy neighbor?”

While he isn’t a Christian anymore, he knows that Carver is simply twisting the words of the Bible to support his own malicious agenda, venting his grief over Chrissy by directing his rage onto a scapegoat. An easy target that didn’t deserve any of it.

It’s easy for Carver to blame him and call him a Satanist when the jock had a front-row seat to Max floating in the air, her limbs snapping like twigs. For a Christian with no experience with the Upside Down, blaming it on Satan seems like an easy out that requires minimal critical thinking.

But then Carver went from vague comments about sinners to using the Bible to turn Hawkins against him. Calling him a freak, a murderer, a Satanist. They deface his missing posters with devil horns and pentagrams, unable to let his name rest. After everything, they still won’t let him rest.

And Steve is angry. His heart is heavy with the weight, the hate, of Carver’s fucked up beliefs. Why does this jackass get to live when he is dead? Why does Carver get to run his name through the mud when he’s not even around to defend himself?

Carver is so scared of imaginary monsters that he can’t see the real ones that are haunting Hawkins.

He sacrificed himself for a town that hates him. A town that, even now, couldn’t appreciate what he’d done for them. Hawkins never deserved him. Not even the federal government could be bothered to clear his name. It’s much easier for them to hide the truth and paint him as the real villain rather than reveal him as the hero he really was. They’re the cowards. Not him.

Steve hates Hawkins. Steve hates the people who ruined the life of a boy whose biggest “crime” was dressing in edgy clothes, listening to loud music, and playing a nerdy board game. Steve hates the people that made him feel like a coward for trying to protect himself. Steve hates the people who taught him that he would only be redeemable when he was dead.

He hates God for letting it happen.

Steve wants to scream. He wants to kick and bite. Thrash and punch. He wants to shout from the rooftops about how the very man they scorn is the one who saved them all.

He wants to scream the name of a god he no longer believes in. He wants to curse a god that doesn’t exist. The purest expression of his grief, echoing through town.

Bargaining.

Steve would trade the ungrateful citizens of Hawkins if it meant he could have him back.

To the people of Hawkins, he’s just missing. With the lines of open gates, destruction on every corner, overcast sky, and endless ash floating in the air, some of them believe that whatever his agenda was, he had succeeded. They don’t know shit.

They pray to their god for a miracle. For someone to stop the murders. Stop “the devil” from wreaking havoc. As if their god actually had that power. Steve and his friends hadn’t laid down their lives for everyone to shout “miracle!” If they managed to defeat Vecna, Steve didn’t want God getting all the credit for it.

Miracles are bullshit anyway. Why should a god give miracles so sparsely? Why do some people get miracles and others don’t? God shouldn’t play favorites. How does he decide who deserves a miracle? 

Why hadn’t a true hero fit that criteria?

What “lesson” does God teach when he lets innocent children die without stepping in? What “lesson” does he teach his believers when he lets them invoke his name like a waiver as they hurt an innocent boy?

Sometimes Steve thinks that it should have been him instead. It was his fourth year dealing with the Upside Down; his winning streak had run its course. It was about time anyway. It should have been him.

Steve can’t fathom trading anyone else for him. It would either be the shitheads of Hawkins or Steve. Maybe the assholes in Hawkins Lab who released the Upside Down on all of them in the first place. Maybe the fucking feds that used him as a scapegoat instead of owning up to their mistake.

Depression.

Alone in his house, Steve sits on his bed in his room and stares down at the piece of clothing in his lap. He isn’t crying, but it’s a near thing.

Dustin hasn’t called in days, torn up by grief. Mike refuses to look at him, using him as an easy target to place his blame. Lucas is too busy sitting at Max’s bedside to be betrayed by Steve’s failure. Sometimes Erica comes over to sit on the couch with him and show him her dice or talk about My Little Pony, but they never talk about him.

Robin knows something is wrong, of course. They know each other so intrinsically that they don't have to speak to share their thoughts and feelings.

The thing is… Steve doesn’t want to talk about it. If he tried to open up, he’d have to find a way to pry the man’s name from his throat. Robin supports him like always, but he can tell that she’s starting to worry even more than usual.

He wants to cry. He wants to sit there and let himself cry, but he can’t. His eyes are deceptively dry, giving off the impression that he isn’t grieving even when he feels it every day.

Does he even have the right to grieve? Steve barely knew the guy! They’d only spent a week together and he had the audacity to grieve at the same level as someone like Dustin? Steve was being irrational.

Robin and Nancy could have handled Vecna, no problem. Steve never should have assumed being the distraction would be easy. That the distraction team would just hop back through the gate as soon as they played their part. Not when he knew how vicious and determined those bats could be.

The denim vest feels like it’s burning a hole through Steve’s legs. It’s selfish for him to keep it. Surely Wayne needs it more. 

But the two of them had sort of become friends, hadn’t they? They had joked together. They bonded over Dustin’s overconfident attitude. They…

Well, let’s just say Steve had to go through a bit of a bi-crisis in the midst of his mourning.

If Steve could only talk to Robin about this mass of grief, guilt, and what-ifs in his chest—if he could finally say his name—maybe he could finally break down into pieces. Maybe his numb exterior could finally reflect his shattered heart. 

Acceptance.

He’s dead. He’s dead, and he’s never coming back.

He was an ever-present pressure in Steve’s life for one short week before he vanished forever. And Steve can accept that.

They won’t have another opportunity to tease Dustin together. They won’t sit pressed on a couch together, their thighs brushing. He won’t lean too close into Steve’s space and bump their shoulders together. They won’t get the chance to say the things they left unsaid.

And now Steve will never know.

But he can accept that. He can because he has to.  Because they held his funeral. 

You don’t hold funerals for people who aren’t dead. So Steve just has to accept it. The sooner he can, the sooner he can move on.

…

Revival?

Something is in his house.

That’s the first thing Steve registers when he steps up to the front door. The wood by the handle is scratched up with claw marks, and the metal lock is on the ground, pulled out of the door and rendering Steve’s house key obsolete.

Instead of entering the threshold unprotected, Steve scrambles back to his car to grab the nail bat from his trunk. He considers getting his walkie out to ask for help but decides to scope out the situation first. Cautiously, he makes his way through the entryway leaving the door open behind him in case he needs to make a hasty escape.

He expects the house to be destroyed; valuables taken, glass shattered, and dirt smeared all over the linoleum tiles. There’s definitely mud tracked into the house, but the shape of the footprints is like nothing Steve has ever seen. From a distance, they might look like regular feet, but upon closer inspection, Steve notices that the toes seem elongated, the length of the feet bigger than any normal human’s.

Tentatively, Steve follows the footsteps with his bat tightly gripped in his fist. They lead up the stairs to Steve’s bedroom where the door is hanging slightly ajar.

Something is in Steve’s room.

It has long, leathery wings; ragged and tangled hair; sharp, pointed claws; and a thrashing, demonic tail. It moves around the room with shameless wonder, trilling to itself as it sniffs at the comforter on Steve’s bed, the clothes in his closet, and the denim vest on his desk.

The creature stops at the desk, pausing to smell the vest thoroughly, unconsciously giving Steve a view of its side profile. Strange… The monster bears a striking resemblance to–

“Eddie?” Steve breathed, his grip on his bat loosening as his eyes finally blurred with unshed tears. “Is that you?”

The monster whips around to face Steve, its lips pulled up into a snarl as its dark, human-like eyes stare sharp and steady, directly into the emptiest parts of his heart. Without a warning, the creature crowds into Steve’s space and starts sniffing him within an inch of his life. It runs its strangely human-like nose along the crook of Steve’s bared neck while its clawed hands hold Steve’s arms by his sides firmly.

Steve drops the bat, frozen in place. Now that it’s so close, Steve can see the similarities to Eddie in the monster’s face. Those same expressive Bambi eyes. The strong line of his nose. Those same plush-looking lips pulled back to reveal monstrous fangs. Even with the changes, there’s no doubt in Steve’s mind that the creature before him is Eddie.

Then, when Eddie has apparently finished sniffing, he snuffles in Steve’s face, satisfied, and picks him up like he’s made of feathers. With seemingly minimal effort, he places Steve in the center of his bed and fluffs the blankets up around him, swiping his frighteningly long, black tongue up Steve’s cheek in a sopping wet lick.

Steve blushes, unsure how he should be reacting. “Eddie?” he murmurs softly once more, hoping to draw Eddie’s attention to the words leaving his lips.

Eddie chirps, climbing into the bed to join Steve and curling up at his knees. His wings flap, sending a burst of air across Steve’s face before they settle, and he faces Steve with his eyes relaxed and expression open.

With a nervous smile, still not sure what to do with his hands, Steve says, “Do you… recognize me?”

Another chirp and Eddie presses his forehead into Steve’s outstretched palms. 

“Okay,” Steve breathes, letting out a brief sigh of relief. “Can you speak?”

Eddie whimpers, hanging his head low. The sound is broken, raspy as though his vocal cords are struggling to produce the deep sound. Steve feels like he’s losing him all over again.

Mustering all the tender charm he can manage, Steve slowly reaches out to loosely hold one of Eddie’s hands. Eddie picks up his head to watch him, making no move to stop the motion, the only indication of his interest being the little flick of the end of his tail back and forth.

As gently as he can, Steve rubs his thumb against the inside of Eddie’s wrist and softly presses a kiss to his palm. “I’m glad you found me,” he murmurs, hoping that Eddie will understand the sentiment. “I’m glad you’re back.”

There’s no mutual language between the two of them for Steve to express it, and he knows he would only break if he tried to verbally convey it, but his entire being feels like it’s lit up with the broken love he holds in his cracked and shattered heart. Even if he said the words out loud, Eddie wouldn’t be able to respond in kind. 

Just like everyone else, leaving Steve wanting for something no one can give him. 

Steve lays back in his bed to stare up at the ceiling. All his grief is no longer warranted now that Eddie’s back, but despite that, he still feels as though he’s lost something truly important. 

His cheeks are still damp from the brief tears he shed at Eddie’s return, but when he goes to wipe them away, Eddie beats him to it. He raises himself up until he’s propped up on top of Steve and leans down to lick the tears away. It’s a little gross, but Steve appreciates it anyway.

With that task complete, Eddie flops down until his entire body weight is pressing down on Steve, laying on top of him like it’s a normal thing for friends to do. He nuzzles at the crook of Steve's neck and chuffs.

Steve chuckles nervously, a deep flush rising to his cheeks. “You alright there, Eds?” he manages to squeak out.

Instead of moving his head to look up at Steve, Eddie presses his face harder into Steve’s neck as a rumbling sound vibrates from the base of his throat. It sounds strangely like a purr.

Then, to Steve's immense surprise, Eddie raises his head and looks Steve straight in the eye. His eyebrows furrow in intense concentration as he opens his mouth. At first, only a low growl comes out before it slowly morphs as Eddie’s lips form around the word “…S-Steevie.”

Steve blushes a pretty pink. “Yeah. That’s me.”

Eddie snorts, though it reminds Steve more of a dragon huffing smoke from its nose than a laugh. He presses their foreheads together gently and Steve goes still beneath him. “Missed you,” Eddie grits out as though those two words took all of his effort. Then his face splits into a wide grin and he leans down to lick at the tip of Steve’s nose, reminiscent of an excitable puppy.

Heat blooms in Steve’s chest, and he struggles to hold back the warmth that wants to pour out of him from his fingertips. So, instead, he reaches his hand up to brush Eddie’s hair back from his forehead and smiles. “I missed you too,” he murmurs in response, trying to put all of his love into those four words.

Eventually, they’ll work on re-introducing Eddie to everyone else and giving him some speech therapy to help with his vocal cords, but for now, Steve is content to just lay there. He has no reason to grieve anymore. Not when he has Eddie back.

[remedyxtragedy]

Important conversation to be had up ahead--

There are plenty of absurd things in this world I've long since stopping caring about because it is my understanding that there is only so much that can come from fretting over things that are beyond our control, however still I must reiterate that there are equally as many absurd things even I absolutely have to recognize and address because too often do they just fly under the radar. Such things including the romanticization of murderers, serial killers, and literally any disgusting degenerate who we should unconditionally deplore and reject.

Why, why in good God's name is this even an issue? Why must people like this further taint my perceptions of humanity? Frequently, I try to remind myself that this world is still worth living in, that out there exists a vast sea of good, benevolent people who make the experience all the more tolerable and that I shouldn't let a few bad eggs ruin the joyride of life, but then...when I go on the internet and stumble upon yet another case of some fatherless disgrace sympathizing with, simping for, and sometimes even flat out idolizing a serial killer, whether they're real or fictional, instantly I want to leap out the nearest window because I just cannot fathom for the life of me how these people are even real and how on a daily basis, I am coexisting with them.

I don't know why some people think that just because they're folding over a fictional serial killer it's trivial next to the fans of real life shit stains on the cloth of humanity, but I will gladly take them by the hand, sit their ignorant asses down, and explain in vivid detail why that is an abhorrently unsound mindset. I can't help but glare at my own sister in disgust every time she goes on about how she like's Ghost Face; my scorn is not exclusive to people outside my family--I either hate or love everyone, no one is spared.

There's a stark contrast between admiring how these characters are written and incorporating them into your work innocuously, as I too can resonate with, and just straight up finding them attractive regardless of the profoundly disgusting things they've done. I don't know what the psychology behind this looks like, I'm obviously in so such way educated in that regard, but maybe It's really easy for me to not fall head over heels for legit menaces to law and order because in my time I've read a good few encyclopedias on these kinds of people and am now cursed with the knowledge of how life can, has, and always will be horrifically desecrated by these monsters. It's just one of the few things I just cannot stomach.

Confidently, I can declare that we as a species are regressing, and it's evident in the good-for-nothings who spew nothing but parochial, myopic bullshit and are ever so sneakily infiltrating the public scene. As I'm a Christian, I trust in Jesus's return and the rapture, but as an individually intuitive girl with a wild imagination and dark thoughts that ceaselessly loom over me no matter how badly I want them to go away, a funny thought I quite like entertaining is that every effort humans make to consolidate our presence here on Earth only brings us closer to our inevitable demise, at some point we will outstay our welcome in this world, try and bush barriers we were not mean to, and the outcome is gonna be ugly. It all starts with little oddities here and there, little creases and cracks being formed in our design, and those things amass into a bigger formidable issue composed of all the fissures we've failed to patch, and that happens over and over all gain until it balloons far out of our control into a permanent fracture that we're just gonna have to learn how to mold around and coexist with. Perhaps one day, and one day soon, they become too much for the scaffolds of our civilizations to bear, which at that point causes the creeds and views we've founded our homes, hospitals, economy, society, and government upon to come toppling over until finally we find ourselves descending into a downward incline towards total catastrophe. Let it be known, that Idiosyncratic is founded upon this random notion I threw together during a more darker period in my life. I never would've thought such misanthropic thinking would culminate into the best premise I've ever come up with, obviously in my personal person.

Imma be working on a series of artworks showcasing what the Whitman propaganda in my book is gonna look like, and an idea I have for one of them is a visual displaying the human evolution chart except after the Homo Sapien stage we start regressing all the way back to whatever the hell the first stage is, until again they continue to evolve but iat the end of this series instead of there being a human it's Whitman himself, who is by the by no way shape or form human. It's like, we rose, we fell, then rose again--but no longer are we what we were before. I probably sound mad right now, but I promise it'll make a lot more sense once I actually make it.

Anyways, that's all I got to say right now, but just as a final comment--why is it that people are so adamant that it's either science or religion? Why can't everything be perfectly and meticulously intertwined? The way I see it, faith is not founded upon having absolute definitive proof of a a higher omnipotent being, it's believing in them and trusting in them unconditionally and wholeheartedly, you needn't know that they're there to know that they're there, if that makes sense. For me, it was never a matter of whether or not God is real--that much is practically innate to my being--it was always, why does he work in such esoteric ways? When I was younger, the answer was far beyond me, but now I know better--and I am endlessly astounded by God's work. That's my take, though.

[sophieinwonderland]

Speaking of changes in Christian beliefs and interpretations, I've noticed a recent shift where some folks want to focus more on the idea that Jesus was human, and all that idea entails. See, although Christian churches obviously teach about Jesus as an important figure, a lot of them (at least that I've seen and been to) tend to portray him as a divine being who was just born on Earth because he had to complete his mission of saving us from Hell. The recent trend I've seen has been about discussions and slight changes in approach to Scripture, where people talk about Jesus being human, and how that adds to the meaning of his sacrifice of his life for us – he wasn't just with us, he was one of us, and he lived like us and died like us.

I find it silly to be up in arms about a plural interpretation of the Trinity because "it's change!! It's not exactly what we worshipped before!!" when people are already doing that in a different way lol. Good luck preventing *checks notes* people wondering if Jesus had a favorite wood he liked to work with as a carpenter

This also reminds me of something in When God Talks Back by Tanya Luhrmann.

One of the interesting things she discussed was this shift in culture where in a lot of modern evangelical churches, god became more of a close personal friend.

There are references to friendship with God and with Jesus in the Bible, but this friendship is not the free and easy companionship of two boys swinging their feet on a bridge over a stream. The remarkable shift in the understanding of God and of Jesus in the new paradigm churches of modern American Christianity is the shift that the counterculture made: toward a deeply human, even vulnerable God who loves us unconditionally and wants nothing more than to be our friend, our best friend, as loving and personal and responsive as a best friend in America should be; and toward a God who is so supernaturally present, it is as if he does magic and as if our friendship with him gives us magic, too. God retains his holy majesty, but he has become a companion, even a buddy to play with, and the most ordinary man can go to the corner church and learn how to hear him speak. What we have seen in the last four or five decades is the democratization of God—I and thou into you and me—and the democratization of intense spiritual experience, arguably more deeply than ever before in our country’s history.

The chapter tells the story of how a lot of this change was owed to an unconventional union of these conservative churches and hippie preacher Lonnie Frisbee.

Frisbee's teachings essentially single-handedly rewrote how God and Jesus were perceived in these evangelical churches for generations.

... and then he was excommunicated from the denominations he founded for being gay, and they've been trying to erase his history ever since.

Because yeah, right-wing evangelicals suck...

But the point is, doctrine changes. People's understanding of and their relationship with God changes. That's how religion works. And sometimes, it only takes a single person to start making those waves.

...

Also, never let the Vineyard Church or the offshoots they spawned forget that their church owes its entire existence and doctrine to a queer hippie who they turned their backs on for being gay!

[lee-hakhyun]

shit, there’s. something to be said there about how you can’t just force someone to give you all of them, and how it’s a question; you have to ask someone to take your hand

and there’s been entire meta posts before the side story’s release wherein you can have a happy ending, you just have to. be willing to believe in it, just like hands can be offered to you but you still have to take it

and they were offered two different endings; one where kim dokja came back and one where they chose not to

so what does it mean when han sooyoung forgets that you have to ask, and not force it to happen? what happens when you try to make your loved ones do something supposedly for their sake, and not for yours?

because it’s frustrating that some of kim dokja’s fragments can’t let themself think of a happy ending, yeah, but. that’s still a part of kim dokja. that’s still a fragment that had their own hopes and dreams. and in this story where han sooyoung is trying to force an ending so that kim dokja would stop reading, so that he’d finally return… hurting the fragments in the process…

hahah, isn’t it funny that lee hakhyun ends up sacrificing himself for the other fragments, too? isn’t it. isn’t it funny

*cries*

on one hand, my entire brain is going ‘but… but lee hakhyun existed before orv was ever released…’ but on the other hand my head is going ‘no, no, no, it makes s e n s e . star writer had nothing to do with orv before the side story. keyword being HAD’. so lee hakhyun had nothing to do with kim dokja since he was from a story from before orv even existed, but now he DOES have something to do with orv because now he’s 49. and 49 in fact… ah.

49 was, in orv itself, the part of kdj that remembered everything kimcom adored while retaining nothing of his own preferences,,,, it was also the part that was divorced from kdj’s self-destructive and self-hating tendencies, too? so it makes sense that lee hakhyun found himself loving kim dokja’s story and growing close to jung heewon even though he wishes he could be his own person - and. and he is, now, i personally believe, honestly. kdj fragment is a shorthand for ‘reader’, and there’s quite literally no avoiding being a ‘reader’ even though you aren’t necessarily KIM reader

and. 49’s story was forgotten in the chaotic tumble of trying to get the missing part of him back, so… a. another point for the ‘forgotten stories’,,,,,,

... oh god.

i can understand why they go so far for kim dokja but also, everything is just going wrong han sooyoung, choosing to play the villain. and lee hakhyun, giving his everything to protect the story and that line in 615, as hsy sees lhh dying

「Han Sooyoung knew someone who had sacrificed himself in this way.」

singshong is here to hurt all of their characters. no one is spared. and on lee hakhyun. yeah. lee hakhyun HAD his own story, but it was discontinued. and then he ends up in orv. i'm exploding

to the end, 49 supported kimcom unconditionally,, while believing he wasn't who they actually wanted. also, i have a 49 fic rec

[asoiafgotcollections]

One thing that infuriate me about people using Jaime’s willingness to go public with their incestous relationship to say he loved Cersei more than she loves him is that when people hear about Joffrey’s true parentage, Cersei faces the brunt of the reactions. All the consequences are hers to bear. Before the King’s Landing’s riot, a grieving mother called her a “brother fucker” and that was spark that led to the riot. Cersei was in the city when Stannis attacked and he had the intention of killing her and her children for being abominations. She is the one who risked being discovered of not being a virgin, she raised Jaime's children alone (it was so that no one suspected that Jaime was the father but let’s be honest, the dude had 0 interest in being father), she had to bear Jaime’s jealousy and possessiveness after Robert “took his rights” (aka raped her). Then when it was exposed, she was the one who dealt with all the religious fanatics, condemnations and punishment. Even in the fandom, most of the insults, mockeries and dirty jokes are thrown at Cersei. She gets most of the criticism for their relationship and Jaime is the poor victim, the incest condems Cersei and woobifies Jaime. The fandom only cares about Jaime to the point where people have convinced themselves that this relationship benefits Cersei. It does not. Since when an adulterous relationship in a deeply patriarchal society benefits a woman ???

It’s easy for Jaime to push for them to live as man and wife when he hasn’t faced the majority of the consequences.

Jaime has always been very "woe is me" and it's like, okay your mom died but have you ever thought about anybody else's feelings including your sister wife and little brother whom you love? His love for Cersei and Tyrion is genuine, but there's an empathy chip missing there and it really shows at times.

Generally speaking, I think the underlying opinion a lot of people hold is that love is inherently redeeming and they can't fathom that people can unconditionally love each other without either of them being redeemed. It's an almost religious conception of love and personally, I've always lived by the mantra that redemption is primarily the process by which we recognize we are already redeemed. I don't believe in God because I believe that only a God who could love even Cersei Lannister is a God worth serving, and the only God worth emulating, and that God doesn't exist.

[wordsinhaled]

strap in for thirteenth doctor feelings!

so i'm only halfway through series 12 which means i haven't finished 13's run so obviously there almost certainly are things i'm missing so far. but i have to say... like... while thirteen's run may NOT benefit from strong writing it absolutely DOES benefit from jodie's acting because there is something very much of the doctor to her, she's got a lovely steeliness that she brings out at the right moments, and she really brings something very specific to this role that captures who the doctor is at this moment in the timeline. and i'm thinking about it narratively as well, and the thirteenth doctor makes sort of really heartbreaking sense.

this is a doctor who had already lived too long several regenerations ago yet is still chasing more because she can never stop running. this is a doctor who has known the pain of losing countless companions and is terrified to lose even more, so she holds them at arm's length; and yet, still, she craves closeness, love, and companionship, even family (they're her "fam"—it's a chipper, offbeat way to downplay their importance to her—if it can be just a turn of phrase, just gen Z slang, she doesn't have to think of what comes from family: loss, pain, guilt, fire, destruction, goodbyes, loneliness). and we all remember ten sitting on that rooftop with donna, talking about the christmas he'd spent with the tylers, calling them his family, the closest he'd come to having one since gallifrey.

before the doctor opened up to rose he'd been war-hardened and rough around the edges, until he was worn down, softened by the things he craves. because it's always those thing the doctor craves, belonging, connection, hope; it's why there's always someone in the TARDIS; it's why donna said the doctor needs someone. but loneliness feels like the doctor's cosmic punishment, the only outcome that makes sense, and the only way to prevent further collateral damage. so, little wonder thirteen's committed to doing everything on her own, looking for the master on her own, visiting her home on her own; trying to be unknowable. seesawing between the defensive need to push away and the doctor's fundamental desire to love others and to be loved.

there are three people on board her TARDIS and she couldn't be farther from them. she's feeling unknowable because she's carrying every one of her years, every one of her past acts, every drop of blood on her hands, every mistake she's ever made. there's this sense that she could, somehow, be unknown even to herself. and - "something's coming for me" - there's this deep sense of huntedness, of wanting to outrun the inevitable (pain; punishment) and not being able to because reminders of it are around every corner. there's even captain jack, her fixed point, come back to haunt her; an anomaly, one that shouldn't exist. just like the doctor shouldn't exist.

and yet she keeps not being ready to go. nine was ready because he'd shed some of his burden and experienced being unconditionally witnessed. ten had only just started to live in that peace and he wanted longer, wanted more. eleven already carried the knowledge that he'd overstepped the universe but he still had an innocence to him, a sort of double edge. twelve was gruffness layered over so much care and kindness. and thirteen is. just. coming at the universe with bright open-heartedness to fight her own fear of what she knows is coming, is always, has always been coming for her.

everywhere, in everything, there's a reminder of the home she lost and barely believes she deserves to find again. everywhere, in everything, a reminder that she has to keep going, go faster, go farther, keep up the distractions, keep up the façade because otherwise the only other option is to face it down. and the doctor's a coward, any day. and actually, it's heartwrenching because it's brilliant.