#and act on what YOU think is best for your kid

[misswynters]

Ma Meilleure Amour

featuring. ekko x fem!reader

a/n. doing my duty as a writer to fill the ekko tag with fics of him only (it’s translated to my best love)

inspired by. the song Ma Meilleure Ennemie and the scene with ekko and jinx in act iii (listen to it while reading)

Everything felt different. The streets of Zaun had the ever-present haze of smog seem softer, its grim edge dulled by the warm hum of neon lights. The streets bustled with life, as they always did, but the night gave the chaos a certain charm. The glow of green and pink signs reflected off damp cobblestones, while the occasional flicker of a malfunctioning lamp sent ripples of color through shallow puddles.

You walked side by side with Ekko, your steps slow and aimless, as if the two of you had all the time in the world. You didn’t, of course. With how Zaun always had a way of reminding you that the clock never stopped ticking. But right now, under the swirl of lights and the faint hiss of steam vents, it felt like time had paused just for the two of you.

Ekko’s hand brushed against yours every so often, and though he wasn’t one to initiate touch easily, you could tell he didn’t mind the closeness. He always had this way of being effortlessly cool, his swagger and wit making it seem like nothing fazed him. But you knew him better than most. You saw the weight he carried, the pressure of being a leader, a fighter, and a kid all at once. And tonight, you were determined to remind him what it felt like to just…be.

“Ever think Zaun’s kinda pretty at night?” you mused, breaking the comfortable silence.

Ekko glanced at you, one eyebrow raised, before looking around. “Pretty? Dunno if I’d call it that. More like…gritty with a side of a green glow.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Says the one waxing poetic about this place,” he shot back, his grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Fine, maybe I’m seeing it through rose-colored glasses. Or maybe I just like walking around with you.”

That earned a chuckle from him, the sound low and warm. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned closer to you. “Well, when you put it that way…” The two of you wandered through winding alleys and across rickety bridges, the air thick with the scent of metal and oil. Every so often, Ekko would point out a shortcut he’d used for one of his time-bending escapades or share a story about an adventure with the Firelights.

But then he led you down a narrow path you hadn’t noticed before, his fingers brushing yours briefly to guide you. At the end of the path, you stepped into a beautiful hidden oasis. A rooftop garden tucked away from Zaun’s usual grit and grime. The first thing you noticed was the lights. Strings of mismatched lanterns crisscrossed the space, casting a soft, golden glow over everything. Tiny fairy lights were woven through the vines that climbed up makeshift trellises, their warm flicker like little stars in the night. The plants themselves were a mix of scrappy greenery and surprisingly vibrant flowers, their colors popping against the muted tones of the city below.

“Woah…” you breathed, turning to him with wide eyes.

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the faint blush on his cheeks gave him away. “It’s nothing fancy. Just a spot I’ve been working on.”

“Are you kidding? It’s perfect,” you said, your voice filled with awe.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze darting away from yours. “Figured it’d be nice to have a place to get away, y’know? Somewhere quiet.”

You stepped forward, taking it all in. A small wooden bench sat in the center of the garden, its surface worn but sturdy. Around it, the plants swayed gently in the cool breeze, their leaves catching the light just enough to shimmer.

“Come on,” Ekko said, his hand lightly brushing the small of your back as he guided you to the bench. “I didn’t bring you here just to stand around.”

You sat down, the wood creaking softly under your weight. Ekko settled beside you, close enough that his knee pressed against yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet hum of the lights and the distant sounds of Zaun filling the space. It was a working pattern. There was always a comfortable silence between the two of you.

“How long have you been working on this?” you asked softly.

“Couple months,” he said, leaning back with his arms stretched across the bench. “Takes a while to get plants to grow in a place like this. But I dunno…it feels good to build something, y’know? Instead of just tearing things down.”

You glanced at him, your chest tightening at the softness in his voice. Ekko didn’t let people see this side of him often though. I mean this was the boy who dreamed of a better Zaun, the one who carried the weight of his community on his shoulders.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, resting your head against his shoulder. “Just like you.”

He laughed softly, the sound warm and a little shy. “You’re laying it on thick tonight, huh?”

“Just telling the truth,” you said, closing your eyes as his warmth seeped into you.

The two of you sat like that for a while, wrapped up in the stillness of the garden. Ekko’s hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a way that felt natural, like you were always meant to fit together.

“Hey,” he said after a while, his voice quiet.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. For, y’know…being here.”

You lifted your head to look at him, your heart aching at the sincerity in his eyes. “Of course,” you said softly while winking. “You’re worth it, Ekko.”

His gaze lingered on yours for a moment, the golden light casting shadows across his face. Then he smiled. It was real, genuine smile that made your chest feel light and full all at once.

“C’mere,” he said, pulling you closer until you were practically in his lap. His arms wrapped around you, his chin resting on your shoulder as you leaned into him.

“This is nice,” you murmured, your fingers tracing absent patterns on his arm.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice a little muffled. “It is.”

There it was again, the comfortable silence. The garden was quiet, bathed in the golden light of the mismatched lanterns. You rested your head on Ekko’s shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath against you. His fingers were still intertwined with yours, his thumb brushing small, absentminded circles against your knuckles.

It was peaceful, almost too perfect for Zaun, where tranquility was a rare luxury. The hum of distant machinery and the faint chatter of the streets below were a backdrop to your own private world. You thought this was it, that the night couldn’t get any better. But Ekko had other plans.

Suddenly, he shifted away from you, his weight leaving the bench as he stood. His warmth leaving your body. You blinked up at him, confused as he turned to face you, his signature grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He extended a hand toward you, palm up, the glow of the garden lights reflecting in his dark eyes.

“Dance with me,” he said, his voice soft but brimming with an irresistible playfulness.

You tilted your head, a laugh escaping you. “Dance? Here?”

“Why not?” He wiggled his fingers, urging you to take his hand.

You hesitated, glancing around. “Ekko, there’s no music.”

He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Oh, ye of little faith.”

Reaching into his pocket, Ekko pulled out a small, beaten up speaker, a relic salvaged from some forgotten corner of Zaun. He fiddled with it for a moment before a warm melody crackled to life, filling the air with a gentle rhythm.

You stared at him in disbelief, your lips parting in surprise. “You planned this?”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool but failing miserably as a proud smile broke through. “Maybe.”

Shaking your head with a soft laugh, you placed your hand in his, the warmth of his palm grounding you. “Alright, Clockstopper,” you teased. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Ekko pulled you to your feet, guiding you to the center of the garden. The music swelled around you, soft and sweet, a contrast to the chaos of Zaun. His other hand found its place on your waist, and he held you close, his movements easy and unhurried. At first, you tried to match his rhythm, your steps tentative as you followed his lead. But it wasn’t long before your foot accidentally landed on his.

“Oh, sorry!” you gasped, pulling back slightly.

Ekko winced dramatically, clutching his chest as if you’d mortally wounded him. “You’re killing me here,” he said, his voice laced with mock pain.

You rolled your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips. “Don’t be such a baby.”

“Baby?” He laughed, spinning you unexpectedly. You stumbled slightly but caught yourself, the sound of your shared laughter echoing in the garden.

The two of you continued like that, swaying and spinning under the lanterns. Every so often, you’d step on his foot again, and he’d exaggerate his reaction, making you laugh until your cheeks hurt. But then, as the song shifted to a slower melody, Ekko’s movements became gentler, more deliberate. He pulled you closer, your bodies impossibly near. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the faint scent of zauns atmosphere lingering on him. Your eyes met his, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. The golden light reflected in his eyes, making them shimmer like they held their own constellation. There was something unspoken in his gaze, something raw and real that made your heart stutter.

“Ekko…” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the music.

He didn’t say anything, just leaned in slowly, giving you enough time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. Instead, you closed the distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was soft and sweet, filled with everything words couldn’t express. Your hands found their way around his neck, pulling him closer as his arms wrapped around your waist. The world seemed to tilt, the glow of the lanterns and the soft hum of the music swirling around you in a haze of light and sound.

Time felt irrelevant—ironic, considering who you were with. All that mattered was the way he held you, the way his lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice steady and sure.

Your heart swelled at his words, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the lights around you. Smiling, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I love you too,” you said, the words as natural as breathing.

Ekko grinned, his hands tightening around your waist as he pressed a series of quick, playful kisses to your face—your cheeks, your nose, your forehead. Each kiss was accompanied by a soft giggle from you, his affection spilling over in a way that was so uniquely him.

“Ekko, stop,” you laughed, trying to pull away as he kissed the corner of your mouth.

“Never,” he said, his voice full of mock defiance as he caught your lips in another kiss.

The two of you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world forgotten. The music played on, the lights flickered, and Zaun’s ever-present hum seemed softer, almost distant. As the night stretched on, you found yourselves back on the bench, your head resting on Ekko’s shoulder as he absentmindedly played with your fingers. The garden felt like a dream, a little slice of peace carved out of the chaos. And in that moment, with Ekko by your side and the glow of the lanterns above you, everything felt right. Almost perfect.

banners. @anitalenia

taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @thesevi0lentdelights

[usuallydyinginside]

"No One Mourns the Wicked" is about Glinda, not Elphaba

Okay, but hear me out. Wicked songs are so good at saying one thing and meaning something entirely different once you have more context. For instance, "I'm Not That Girl" is Elphaba singing about Glinda initially, then in Act 2 flips to Glinda singing about Elphaba. Because it turns out, Elphaba IS that girl and Glinda is not. When we meet the Wizard, he sings about how he always wanted to be a father. When you get to Act 2, you get the sad little reprise in the background music as he realizes that WHOOPS, he was one and he destroyed his only kid. "Defying Gravity" starts with "I hope you're happy" in the sarcastic sense and ends with them both using the same phrase to genuinely wish one another well.

"Thank Goodness" is set up as a cheerful engagement song where Glinda genuinely means "thank goodness for how great my life is" and ends in a place where she's insisting that she IS happy even as she realizes her engagement is a sham, her best friend is gone, and she's left with the Wizard and Madame M, who she doesn't even like.

You get the picture.

Basically, the whole musical is about subverting what you expect, starting with the base premise of "what if the Wicked Witch was the hero of the story" and digging in from there.

Honestly, I'd never paid much attention to the first song. It's a good opener, sets things up well, but it has some big competition with later songs. However, in the movie the staging and camera choices made me really notice it for the first time. Because you know what? Someone DID pay attention to that song, and you can really really tell.

For those who need a refresher, the lyrics to the chorus Glinda sings are: And Goodness knows The Wicked's lives are lonely Goodness knows The Wicked die alone It just shows when you're Wicked You're left only On your own I was always so busy noticing Glinda's grief over thinking Elphaba was genuinely dead that I failed to notice Glinda's grief over her OWN fate. The movie did such a good job with this because every time we get to the pink lines about being alone, Glinda IS alone. She is standing apart from the crowd who adores her. Standing above them. Standing at the center of a bunch of people yet still, isolated.

Because in the end, we know that Elphaba DIDN'T die alone. We know she wasn't on her own. We know her life WASN'T lonely ultimately. She had her flying monkey and animal friends. She had Fiyero.

And who does Glinda have?

Everyone, but realistically, no one. She is an ideal, not a person to most of Oz, just as much as Elphaba has become the token scapegoat. Where Elphaba is the "Wicked Witch," Glinda is "Glinda the Good Witch" - she is literally supposed to be the embodiment of goodness.

And what does Glinda have at the end of this whole thing (as of this song at least)? A disastrous end to her engagement, the death of her best friend, a sorceress who has hated her, demeaned her, and dismissed her from the start, and a con man who is also just a symbol more than a person.

I think it really hit me when Glinda throws the fire on the giant effigy of Elphaba. Ariana's acting was SO good there, because I'd expected us to see that private moment of horror or regret. What I didn't expect was the sort of determined and almost angry glare at the effigy.

But it makes sense. At this point, Glinda has realized that she lost everything and everyone she actually cared about.

As she so aptly puts it in "Thank Goodness"...

Though it is, I admit The tiniest bit Unlike I anticipated. But I couldn't be happier, Simply couldn't be happier, Well, not "simply" 'Cause getting your dreams It's strange, but it seems A little, well, complicated.

There's a kind of a sort of cost. There's a couple of things get lost. There are bridges you cross You didn't know you crossed Until you've crossed!

And if that joy, that thrill Doesn't thrill like you think it will Still-- With this perfect finale, The cheers and the ballyhoo! Who wouldn't be happier? So I couldn't be happier, Because happy is what happens When all your dreams come true.

Well, isn't it?

Happy is what happens when you're dreams come true.

It's not Elphaba's fault that Glinda has ended up this way. Glinda chose it every step of the way. Yet, if Glinda had never met Elphaba, (if she'd never known her, you could say), she might have stayed shallow and vain. She might never have been challenged to look deeper and realize how empty it all felt.

So as Glinda sings "No One Mourns the Wicked," she realizes that even if the Munchkins are singing about the "Wicked Witch," she's not.

She's singing about herself.

The one who traded her morals, friendship, and love for a taste of the admiration and power over those who don't really know her. The one who was so worried about being likable that she herself doesn't like who she's become.

Even after she makes things better for Oz and herself by sending the wizard away and getting rid of Madame M, it just leaves Glinda by herself as the leader and source of goodness in Oz. It leaves her on a pedestal she can never step off of.

It leaves her lonely.

Entirely alone.

[chiscaralight]

thinkin so hard about enemy!satoru who’s dick is enough to wash the hate away. he’s infuriating; annoying and cocky. but can you blame him? he can charm anyone, even you. after all the harsh words and insults you throw his way, he’ll still get you on your knees in the dirty bathrooms, eyes blown out wide and silently pleading for him to just put it in your mouth.

and he’ll hold your jaw with the softest touch, smile so tender as he pushes his length past your kiss-swollen lips. your achy cunt is clenching around absolutely nothing, suffering his less-than-appropriate punishment for being soo mean to him today. what, you think you can do as you please with no repercussions? of course not! but satoru will still make it seem like he's the one in pain, perfectly glossed lips jutting out in a pout as he forces his heavy tip farther down your throat while he goes on and on.

"you made me really sad, y'know. almost hurt my feelings even, but you don't mean any of it, yeah?"

your cries are being muffled out by his lower abdomen, nose pressing against his salty skin as you struggle to get an answer out.

"-know you don't. shit, you wouldn't be taking me this well if y'did, hm?"

the whine that leaves your throat is criminal when he pulls out. satoru is sucking in a breath to prevent himself from moaning back in response. you're so sweet like this, and he feels like a kid in the biggest candy store. oh how he wishes you'd drop this tough act you keep putting on, but it's a little more fun this way, getting to break down that facade until you're teary-eyed and sobbing for him to just put it in, whimpering with broken apologies about how sorry you are.

unfortunately for satoru, he's just as weak-willed when it comes to you. with the remaining strength you haven't sucked out of him already, he'll hoist you up, pressing your back against the wall as he finally bullies his cock into your sopping cunt. his lips are on yours in an instant to drink in your moans both for his pleasure and your education. as much as he loves how you sound, he's not sure the school will understand where he's coming from.

and you're doing such a good job of being quiet now, but the way you're looking at him with those eyes is making him grow a little louder; breathy moans and short curses falling from his lips as he rides out the rest of his orgasm into you, filling you to the brim with his cum. you can feel him twitch with each spurt of white that's painting your walls.

but you look less than pleased after, pussy sore with no release and the constant pressing of your thighs to stop his seed from dripping down your legs. he'll even take a quick jab at you later when you're with your friends. A response quickly hits your tongue, but you're biting it back at the same speed. it might not be the best idea to insult him when he can pull your soiled panties out of his pocket right here, right now. but there's a part of you that wants it to happen. you'd like that, wouldn't you?

[lexxiie]

Hey!!! I LOVE YOUR FICS AAAA

I was thinking of something funny and cute for jjk where the reader is hit by someone with a curse that turns people into their child selves for a little while, how would the guys act?

When A Curse Turns You Into A Child

This is like... The cutest idea ever????

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Nanami.

Gojo Satoru

He was actually a bit worried when the curse first hit you, especially since you didn't even remember him... However, now? He's not worried at all, he's actually quite amused.

"Pleaaaaseee" you almost cried to the tall, mean man in front of you. "No. No ice cream for you." He responded with a huge smile on his face, which only made you burst out crying. "Whyyyyy?" You asked him with a face now covered in tears. He actually didn't mean to take it this far, but he was having so much fun with this. You will definitely be mortified when the effects of the curse vanish, and the thought makes him scaringly happy.

"Fine, Fine. But just one, you have to learn that no means no." You didn't seem to care at all about the last part of his sentence since your tears went away immediately, being replaced by a huge smile that almost made his heart melt. He picked you up and headed to the ice cream shop. He never knew you were so spoiled when you were a kid, you never told him. All he could think about was how hard it must have been for your parents to have such a whiny child. But in the depths of his mind, he also wondered if it would be like this if he ever had a child with you, and the idea didn't bother him one bit. It would be... Nice, wouldn't it?

He got you your ice cream and took you back home. You played Mario kart for a little while, he won the first rounds, but you cried every single time, so he was now letting you win. Once the final round was over, he pretended to be sad to see if you felt a little bad, but no. You jumped and laughed and yelled at him that he was a huge looser. What an annoying little monster you were.

Nanami Kento

He is the most stressed he's ever been in his whole life, what is he supposed to do? He knows nothing about children. To be honest, he wishes your parents lived closer so that he could just leave you there and come back once the curse is over.

"I want my mommyyyy" you cried to the stranger in front of you. "I know, I know, she'll be back soon, you don't have to cry." He said as he wiped your tears with a handkerchief. "Let's do something fun while we wait for her." He tried to cheer you up, even as a child, he hated to see you cry. "Like what?" You asked, still sobbing. "Do you like cookies?"

Kento looked at the kitchen and sighed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen such a mess, but at least you were happy. "Are they ready yet?" You asked, jumping excitedly. "They are." The man said with a subtle smile. He pulled the cookies out of the oven and warned you about the heat.

Once they were cold enough, you both sat down and had a couple, you with a glass of milk, and Kento with a cup of coffee. They had way too many chocolate chips for his liking, but you were the happiest child he'd ever seen while eating them. You rambled to him about how much you hated broccoli and how you wished you could eat cookies everyday, and he realized he wouldn't mind doing this for more than a couple of hours, he might be a family man, after all.

Geto Suguru

Well, weren't you the cutest little thing to ever exist? He was amazed by this, it is definitely the best thing that has happened to him in a while. He was already thinking of how he would tease you when it all ended.

But now, he was way more focused on not pushing the swing too hard. You were having so much fun, but he was so scared you would hit the ground. Yet, you seemed to have no worries or fear, making your biggest effort to move the swing faster. "How about we go to the slide?" Geto asked, tired of preventing the swing from throwing you to the other side of the playground. "But I like it here!" You yelled, visibly annoyed that he stopped pushing you. Geto looked around to try to find something else. "Wouldn't you like to go to the roundabout?"

He didn't often regret things in his life, but he sure was regretting ever suggesting this. He thought you would get tired soon, but no. He had been holding his vomit for about 5 minutes now, but it was already too late, he gave up and turned around to let it all out on the ground. The mothers and kids gave him disgusted looks, but you bursted out laughing, which made him laugh too. It hadn't been such a bad day, after all.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 4 part 3

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

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

Lilia is bickering with Jen in episode 7. she turns around and SEES ALICE, WHO WAS KILLED IN EPISODE 5

alice, don't try to save agatha! but she's whisked ever further back to episode 2 before she can finish the sentence. imagine having the power of communicating with the past but it's never enough to warn them. seeing the dead and talking to them, knowing what's going to come next. and you wonder why she chose exile and solitude.

meanwhile agatha has collected her wits long enough to decide what her short term strategy with rio is gonna be: keep her distracted, isolate her from the others, keep her away from billy. see how she takes a moment to focus and get into character? she knows rio is about to follow her like a moth to a flame

just going on a trip with my best gal pals and a random teen boy, nothing to see here!!!! and agatha knows that rio knows that she's lying. hello, rio is PERFECTLY aware that there's no Road out there capable of magicking her into a glam rock sex den. but maybe, just maybe, agatha can keep her focused on something else. honestly it would be such a waste to not put all that combined cleavage to good use!

there she was, having a chat with sharon down in the dirt, and you guys went and dragged her up. like perfect morons. I love how she brought the flower along and it ends up working really well with the outfit

oh, rio knows. she knows everything.

and agatha SHOOTS UP and GETS TOO CLOSE and FLIRTS. oh my god this bitch. just like she did in episode 1, except now she's more collected and ever more deliberate. flirting is her best weapon of mass distraction against rio. because look, rio might know all her tricks but she's only (very marginally) human! who can blame her if she lets herself be seduced a little bit, just a little bit! for old times' sake! in rio's defense her wife is very hot and she misses her very much, your honor

rio is like, bitch I got you allllll figure out but also lemme gently caress your thigh. to enhance your acting performance. what's a little supportive yes, and between exes

she's sooo hamming it up. compare her face here with the genuine yearning at the end of the episode

oh this is hilarious. the others hear rio's flirting over the PA and panic, but no, girls, enthusing about murder is legit how they talk dirty!! (lol at lilia being like, right in front of my salad???)

"gasp!!!! that's my coVEN you're talking abOUT!!!! I'm not that kiND OF wiTCH anYMOWRE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" the ham! the ham! she might just bring the whole deli cart over at this point

and rio with her lil delighted laugh again. she doesn't get mad for one second, she didn't expect anything else. oh agatha, you silly goose, you're so damaged and so cute

let's recap what this fucker achieved with her latest performance, because it's always fascinating to study what's going on in agatha's ferociously scheming brain. she 1) distracted rio from billy. or at least tried to. 2) hinted at Rio's true nature to the others - who knows, maybe she can manipulate them into allying against her later on? 3) pretended to flirt but also flirted a lil bit forreal because there was a lot of skin showing and the flesh is weak etc etc 4) backpedaled alllllllll the way out when things got too intimate because she's too scared and resentful to get close to rio again. playing with fire as usual. or, as the kids say today, fucking around, about to find out

alice's trial has the best aesthetic fr fr. the 70s font!

I'm not 100% sure bcs it goes by so quickly but I think rio is dancing to the cursed music???

not the turntable!! that shit's vintage!!!!!!!

*brian de palma zoom*

*dramatic pause*

WE'VE BEEN CURSED (I love you patti lupone!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

INJECT THIS AESTHETIC DIRECTLY INTO MY VEINS. also alice is red, billy and agatha are blue with purple undertones. the colors in this trial seem very deliberate

"she's a tourist." "she's a PSYCHO." look she never gets to just hang out and do fun things anymore, let her be!!

rio and lilia having a little staring contest as she plays with the knife. doing their own cute archnemeses thing

agatha shaking her head at billy and going shhh when he says 'maybe this curse isn't so bad.' like KID will you stop speaking HORRORS into existence?!?

alice standing with her back straight for the first time since like, ever? or since her mom died? did everyone in the family have their own personal demon or did it switch after killing the previous person? or wait, wait, was the curse only like, a metaphor until billy accidentally turned it into a disgusting 1970s animatronic harpy??

I'm convinced rio could see the demon from the beginning. look at her face here, she's the only one who sees both lilia burning and what's causing it

poor lilia must be thinking, burning witches? soooo original and not traumatic at all (lol at patti being a pro at screaming and writhing in pain on the floor. PROFESSIONAL ACTING)

no no no that's the reaping knife careful careful careful careful

alice's spell: expelle hoc malum, expel this evil. (rio when agatha tries it on her later: WHO ARE YOU CALLING EVIL)

lol. lmao, even. (just don't think about how jen has grown seLFISH TO SURVIVE AFTER HAVING TO LIVE POWERLESS AND DEFENSELESS FOR A CENTURY AND HOW SHE BECOMES MORE AND MORE GENEROUS AS SHE SPENDS TIME WITH ALICE AND LILIA)

oh noes my character just had a beast's giant talons perched on her shoulders i should flash the twins real quick so you can see it better

everyone else: EXTREME PANICKING

rio: stops reading her magazine to glance at the disgusting invisible harpy flapping around the room. goes back to the magazine.

and with this I'm off to my extreme friday night (tea and blankie and a book). ciao!

go to episode 4 part 4

[killerelysia]

Pardonnez-moi, Monsieur!- Solivan brugmansia x Yan!G.N Reader! (Part 3!)

The kid at the back is a 18+ visual novel Minors don't interact!

Words: 10000

Genre: Yandere-(Self aware yandere won the poll)

(Reader is G.N)

Summary: You’ve become consumed by your obsession with Solivan Brugmansia. What started as innocent curiosity quickly spiraled into a fixation. He started it and you began to stalk him, learning every detail about his life. You felt a sick sense of satisfaction in making Sol’s world safer while growing increasingly delusional about your connection with him. Your love for him deepens as you fantasize about the future, convinced that you are the one who truly understands him—better than anyone else. Despite the line between reality and obsession blurring, you remain certain: Sol is yours, even if he doesn’t know it yet.. You're his and he's yours...

Trigger Warning: This content contains themes of obsessive behavior, stalking, manipulation, mental instability, and delusional thinking, Drugging, Yandere?, Hopeless in love for attention Please read with caution.

Obsessive behavior: The reader becomes dangerously fixated on someone, bordering on stalking and delusion.

Manipulation: The reader engages in schemes to control or harm others, often through deception.

Mental illness: Delusional thinking, possible dissociation from reality, and unhealthy fixation on someone.

Violence: There are references to bullying, physical harm, and emotional manipulation.

Emotional abuse: Both in terms of how the protagonist manipulates others and how they might internalize toxic behaviors.

Stalking: The reader watches and follows the person they are obsessed with.

EXTRA: He's a character from a game named The kid at the back!! Note, The relationship presented here between sol and reader is extremely toxic!! In no way, Just because I'm writing doesn't mean I support this kind of toxicity. Note, It's okay to like sol if you know the flaws and don't be a blind eye on them! Again, I don't support his actions etc! If you hate sol ignore this.

Somehow you managed to talk with Sol, Thank Hyugo- THO, He tried to kill you.

Of course, you're gonna complain.

You managed to strike up a normal conversation with Sol, and now he’s explaining the so-called assignment Mr. Professass (Professor) gave.

“Let’s use your face as an example,” he says with a sly grin.

“There, you’re making a cute expression right now—that can be considered expressionism.”

You blinked at his compliment, momentarily stunned. Sol seemed to know a lot about art, effortlessly weaving the concept into the conversation.

“Oh! Expressions! That’s easy! I used to draw a lot of yo—” You stopped mid-sentence, coughing to cover your sudden slip. Sol raised an eyebrow at you, his expression a mix of curiosity and mild amusement. How could he act so normal, like nothing ever fazed him?

“Was your friend good at art?” You asked, smoothly steering the conversation.

“Friend? Oh… you mean Hyugo. He ditched me at the last minute for some family business. He never talks about them, and I don’t pry.”

You nodded, a flicker of endearment softening his sharp features despite the faint annoyance in his tone. “He seems loud.”

“He did say sorry for dragging me into his mess—making me take his place and all.” You waved it off with a small smile. “But honestly, he’s a good guy. The best wingman, really.”

For a brief moment, you observed Sol closely. He rambled on about Hyugo, shaking his head as if exasperated, but there was a lingering warmth in his voice that betrayed his true feelings.

“Our first meeting wasn’t exactly ideal,” you said suddenly, cutting into the moment.

Sol paused mid-thought and tilted his head. “Oh? That’s…” His cheeks reddened slightly.

“I didn’t mean that chair situation,” you teased, leaning back. “I’m talking about your blue Jolly Rancher of a friend. That little menace tried to kill me with a pocket knife.”

The confession spilled out so quickly you almost laughed, but the expression on Sol’s face turned from confusion to shock—and then worry.

“Wait, seriously?” he asked, leaning closer. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, trying to downplay it. “It’s fine, really. I’m sure he won’t do it again.”

But Sol wasn’t convinced. His expression darkened slightly, an uncharacteristic seriousness in his voice. “I’ll talk to him. Thank you for telling me, Y/N. I’ll make sure he doesn’t pull anything like that again.”

“There’s no need for that!” you insisted, waving your hands in reassurance. “I’m sure it’s all water under the bridge now.”

Even so, Sol didn’t look entirely convinced. His determination to address the issue was kind of… cute. Watching him brood over it made your heart skip, a warmth pooling in your chest.

You pulled out your sketchpad on a whim and began doodling Sol’s expressions—the way his brows furrowed when he was deep in thought, the subtle pout tugging at his lips.

“Would you believe me if I told you Hyugo’s one of the top students in the entire class but is always missing in action?” Sol asked suddenly, breaking your focus.

“Probably busy with… uh… family stuff?” you guessed, barely glancing up as your pencil danced across the page.

“Yeah, something like that,” he muttered before noticing your scribbling. His gaze shifted to your sketchpad, and he leaned in curiously.

“Wait, were you drawing me this entire time?” Sol asked, his voice laced with both surprise and suspicion.

“Me? No, of course not!” you lied, trying to shield the sketchpad from view.

“Liar,” he said with a pout that nearly made your heart combust.

“Aww, come on, it’s not a big deal, Sullivan!”

“As in that monster from…?”

“Sorry, Sol.” You grinned sheepishly, attempting to cheer him up, but his exaggerated pout only grew more dramatic.

And for the millionth time that day, your heart had died from his unintentional charm.

You found yourself lost in the moment, staring at your sketchpad and then at Sol. A small, almost creepy smile crept onto your lips as you tilted the page toward him.

“You’re really cute,” you said softly, almost absentmindedly.

Sol blinked, his mouth opening slightly in shock.

You leaned closer, pointing to one of the sketches. “Like, look at this one. That little furrow in your brow when you’re annoyed? Adorable. And here!” You flipped to another. “This one, where you’re mid-smirk? It’s like you’re plotting something, but it’s so soft at the same time. And this one…”

You kept going, your voice trailing into near-obsessive detail about every single expression you’d captured. The way his lips curved when he was amused. The slight tilt of his head when he was curious. The barely-there pout when he was annoyed. Each word only made the lovesickness in your voice more obvious.

You caught yourself—barely—and let out a sheepish laugh, trying to backpedal. “I mean… Sol, you’re just… really cute, okay?” You smiled, hoping to play it cool, but the way your heart pounded in your chest wasn’t helping.

Sol stared at you, his face quickly turning an intense shade of red. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words just… weren’t coming.

Instead, he sat there, completely speechless. His ears burned red as he glanced between you and the sketchpad, frozen in place.

You leaned back, smirking as you tried to hide how flustered you were. “What, no snarky comeback? Cat got your tongue?”

Sol looked away quickly, burying his face in his hands with a muffled groan.

Your heart sank as you realized you might have overdone it. Sol was still red, his hands covering his face, and for a moment, he seemed smaller than his usual confident self.

“Ah, I—” you stammered, your voice softer now. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to come off, uh, intense or anything.” You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly, looking down at your sketchpad like it was a guilty accomplice. “I just… got carried away. You’re really cool, Sol, and I—”

You cut yourself off, biting your lip. You didn’t want to scare him off. Sol wasn’t like this when he was around other people. It was rare to catch him vulnerable like this—unguarded. And now you were worried you might’ve ruined it by being too much.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” you added quickly, your voice almost a whisper.

Sol finally lowered his hands, his expression unreadable for a second. His gaze flickered to you, then to the sketchpad, and back again. He blinked a few times, his blush still lingering.

“You… didn’t scare me,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “I just… wasn’t expecting that.”

You froze, not entirely sure how to respond.

He glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck this time, mirroring your earlier nervousness. “I mean, it’s not every day someone… notices things like that about me.”

Your heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t mad. He wasn’t pulling away.

“Still,” you said with a soft chuckle, trying to lighten the mood, “I’ll tone it down. Promise. You’re just… interesting to draw, that’s all.” You paused before adding, “And, uh, to talk to. If that wasn’t obvious.”

For a moment, the awkward tension melted away. Sol leaned back slightly, still blushing but less defensive now. “Just… don’t let Hyugo see those sketches, okay? I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Deal,” you said with a laugh, relieved that the moment hadn’t ruined anything. If anything, it felt like you’d taken a step closer to understanding him—the real Sol, beneath all the bravado.

Sol leaned back in his chair, his usual cool demeanor cracking just a bit. "Alright, who's going first? You sketching me, or am I sketching you?"

You grinned, already pulling out your sketchbook and a charcoal pencil. "Guess that answers your question."

He raised a brow. “Want me to pose or something?”

“Nah, just sit however you want. It’s fine.” You waved him off casually, but your focus sharpened as you scanned his face, taking in every detail.

The way his jet-black hair fell in a soft cascade over his shoulders, streaked with green that caught the light just right—it was mesmerizing. His bangs framed his face, that one streak cutting down the middle and drawing attention to his eyes. And those eyes, with their burning orange inner ring fading to crimson at the edges, like embers glowing in a dying fire, they were impossible to look away from. His jawline was sharp but not harsh, balanced by the soft curve of his lips, which always seemed to rest in a mix of a pout and a smirk.

He was... handsome. And you couldn’t help but stare.

Too long, apparently.

Sol turned his head suddenly, catching you red-handed. His expression twisted into something flustered, and he turned away,

"Eyes on me!"

Sol blinked, jolted out of his daze. “Oh—sorry. I’m, uh, not used to staring at someone for that long.”

You tried to laugh it off, but your voice came out awkward. "“You know, just your boring face and all.” I got it! My face is boring!"

Sol turned back toward you, his cheeks tinged pink as he gave you a shy glance. “Your face isn’t boring,” he muttered, almost too softly for you to hear. “It’s… more… beautiful.”

Your heart slammed against your chest. Heat flooded your cheeks, and for a moment, you felt like you might combust on the spot. You stared at him, utterly frozen, the charcoal pencil trembling slightly in your hand.

Oh my god, I’m dying. This is it. I’m dying. Again. For the millionth time.

You tried to recover, puffing out your cheeks in mock frustration to defuse the tension. “Nope. Not doing this. You’re not allowed to be cute while I’m trying to work.”

Sol smiled—really smiled—and it was devastating. Soft, genuine, and just shy enough to make your heart stutter.

And then, as if to finish you off completely, you almost missed the way his eyes lingered on you. They were hazy, love-drunk, filled with something dangerously soft and unspoken.

Oh, you sick bastard, Sol, you thought, trying not to let your face give away the chaos in your head. I love you for that.

You started sketching, letting the charcoal glide over the paper with care that bordered on reverence. Each stroke of the pencil became a quiet obsession, capturing the slight arch of his brow, the curve of his jaw, the sharp bridge of his nose that added so much character to his face.

Your fingers moved instinctively, but your mind was a storm.

This won’t be enough.

You paused, glancing up at him again. His face was relaxed, but there was a faint curiosity in his eyes as he tried to stay still for you. That softness in his expression—it was the kind that sent a thrill down your spine. It wasn’t just a face you wanted to draw; it was him.

Your chest tightened. No amount of sketches could ever capture him fully. His little mannerisms, the way his lips twitched slightly when he was lost in thought, how his lashes cast shadows across his cheekbones when he glanced away—how could charcoal and paper ever do justice to that?

No drawing will ever be enough until I get you. All of you.

You swallowed hard, your pencil slowing for a moment as you scanned his face again, letting your gaze linger just a second too long. His expression shifted slightly—was that a flicker of unease? Or maybe curiosity?

You smiled softly, trying to mask the possessive edge in your thoughts. “Sorry. Just trying to get it perfect.”

Sol tilted his head, his lips twitching into a small smirk. “Take your time. Not like I’m going anywhere.”

Oh, you’re not. Not now, not ever.

The thought burned in your chest as you leaned closer, focusing on the details. The dip of his collarbone where it peeked from his shirt, the way his hair caught the faint light from the window, framing his face like a portrait already waiting to be hung. Your pencil moved with an almost feverish precision, each stroke pulling you deeper into your fixation.

And yet, it still wasn’t enough.

You let out a shaky breath, glancing up at him one more time. He caught your gaze this time, and his eyes softened. “How’s it going?”

“Fine,” you murmured, your voice quieter than you meant it to be.

But in your mind, a different answer screamed: It’s not enough. I need more.

You quickly looked back at your sketchpad, your cheeks burning, hoping the intensity of your thoughts wasn’t plastered all over your face.

The bell rang, slicing through the quiet moment between you and Sol. You startled slightly, realizing how much time had passed, and quickly closed your sketchbook.

"Alright, we’re done for now," you said, tucking the pencil into your bag.

Sol leaned forward, his curiosity practically radiating off him. “Wait—can I at least peek?”

You shook your head firmly. “Nope.”

“Boo,” he said, pouting in a way that almost felt illegal. The exaggerated downturn of his lips, the wide-eyed pleading look—it was devastating.

You sighed heavily, knowing you were no match for that expression. “Fine. Just a peek. But no judging, alright?”

He grinned triumphantly as you opened the sketchbook, angling it toward him. His gaze settled on the page, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. He just stared.

“Wow,” he finally breathed, his voice low and almost awed. “You… you drew this? Like, just now?”

You tried to play it off, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal, but your heart raced. “Yeah, it’s just a rough piece. Nothing special.”

His eyes didn’t leave the sketch. “Nothing special? Are you kidding me? It’s—” He paused, his brow furrowing slightly. “It’s perfect. You captured… everything.”

Your chest tightened at his words, but you fought to keep your expression neutral. Instead, you just smiled weakly and looked away, your thoughts a whirlwind. Of course, I captured everything. I’ve drawn you so many times, Sol. In my mind, in my journals. You’re practically etched into my soul.

“It’s not that great,” you muttered, trying to dismiss his praise.

He blinked at you, his expression shifting from awe to disbelief. “No. It’s good. Actually, it’s better than good.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he shook his head, cutting you off. “It’s better than anything I’ve ever drawn.”

Your eyes widened. “Get the fuck out.”

“No, I’m serious!” he said, looking at you earnestly. “It’s amazing, and—wait, you think I’m talented?”

You froze for a split second, and then words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them. “I mean, yeah. Your portrait which I st—uh, think!—is really good.”

You coughed mid-sentence, your throat suddenly dry as panic set in. Sol’s eyes widened, and he immediately jumped up, grabbing a bottle of water from his bag. “Hey, you okay? Here, drink this!”

You took the water, your hands brushing briefly as he handed it to you. His concern was palpable, his orange-red eyes scanning your face. You quickly gulped some water and waved a hand to reassure him. “I’m fine! Just… choked on my words. Literally.”

He frowned, clearly not convinced, but let it go.

You cleared your throat and tried to steer the conversation back. “Anyway, we’ve still got two more works to finish for this project. Let’s… exchange numbers so we can plan things out?”

Sol nodded, pulling out his phone. “Yeah, good idea.”

The exchange was quick, and within moments, your phone buzzed with a message.

Sup.

You stared at it, blinking, before a laugh bubbled out of you. “You type so differently than you talk.”

Sol raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

"Nothing."

You glanced at Sol, who was now scrolling lazily on his phone, and a thought hit you like a freight train. He was so intriguing, so magnetic, but also… so misunderstood.

You couldn’t stop yourself from blurting out, “Y’know, I bet a lot of people mistake you for someone you’re not.”

He looked up, tilting his head curiously. “What do you mean?”

You hesitated, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze. “I mean… you come off as this super confident, kind of aloof guy, but you’re… more than that. People probably don’t take the time to really get you. To understand you.”

His brows furrowed slightly, and you felt your chest tighten. You hadn’t even planned this conversation, but now you were tumbling forward without brakes.

“And I… I want to be that person,” you said, your voice wavering. “I want to understand you, Sol. I want to know the real you. I want us to…” You paused, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. “…to be friends.”

The word friends fell from your lips like a rock, heavy and jagged. It sounded so wrong, so painfully inadequate for how you felt. You wanted to claw it out of the air and burn it before it could reach him. But what else could you say? You couldn’t just ask him to marry you on the first day you’d truly spoken.

Sol blinked, his expression softening. For a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something deeper in his eyes, but then he smiled.

“So,” he said, leaning forward slightly, “let’s make today the start of something. The start of a wonderful friendship. What do you think, Y/N L/N?”

Your heart shattered into a million pieces.

Friendship?! FRIENDSHIP?! Your inner voice screamed, but outwardly, you managed a bright, almost too-cheerful nod. “Yeah! Of course!”

The smile on your face didn’t match the agony in your chest. You were happy to be close to him—really—but it wasn’t enough. Not when you wanted so much more.

Sol leaned back, his casual demeanor unchanged, you felt your heart breaking all over again. And yet, as painful as it was, you told yourself it was a start.

I’ll take this. For now.

But deep down, you couldn’t ignore the ache that wouldn’t go away. The way the word “friendship” echoed in your mind like a cruel joke. You wanted more, and the thought of settling for less was unbearable. Still, you smiled at him, masking the pain, determined to be patient.

Even if it killed you.

As you stood up, preparing to leave, a strange weight settled in your chest. Sol’s words echoed in your mind, the promise to see each other tomorrow. It was enough to make your heart ache, to feel something stir inside you that you weren’t sure how to handle. The idea of friendship—just friendship—with him made everything seem so much harder.

You gave him a smile, even though it felt like your insides were twisting in pain. “Will we see each other tomorrow? And… if it’s possible, could we hang out?” Your eyes were a little too soft, a little too vulnerable, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye for fear of what would spill out.

His expression shifted, that familiar lack of emotion, the calm mask he wore all the time. It was hard to read, hard to decipher, but you didn’t need to. You already knew the answer. His expression was now full of...surprise, he answered faster than you expected!

“Ah! Yes, of course! See you tomorrow.” He gave a small nod, his voice reassuring but distant. You were sure he didn’t feel the same urgency, the same burning desire that you did.

You patted his shoulder, your fingers lingering for just a second longer than necessary. The sensation of his warmth sent a shockwave through you, and you fought to keep your cool. “See you tomorrow, Sol.”

You turned and left.

Your footsteps echoed in the hallway as you walked away, a slight frown pulling at your lips. The walls around you were decorated in some half-hearted Halloween theme—streamers, fake cobwebs, jack-o’-lanterns—but it all felt like a blur. You didn’t care about the decorations or the meaningless chatter around you. Everything felt muted, distant.

Then, as you pulled your phone from your pocket, a text from Crowe appeared, and your stomach twisted.

Crowe: "Waiting for you outside the gate."

It hit you like a punch to the gut. Crowe. Your friend. The one you’d always relied on, the one you cared about deeply. But now… you were torn. Torn between Crowe and Sol, between what had always been familiar and what was now irresistible, unsettling. You couldn’t lie to yourself: having a friendship with Sol was so distracting. Every time you saw him, you couldn’t focus, couldn’t think. It was overwhelming. And it was dangerous.

You cared for Crowe, too, didn’t you? Of course you did. He had always been there for you, your anchor in a sea of chaos. But… when you thought of Sol, when you remembered his gaze, the way he spoke to you, how he looked at you—how he made you feel—you couldn’t deny it anymore.

You stopped in the hallway. Your breath caught in your throat. The truth had become too real.

I’m choosing Sol over Crowe.

The thought was like a blade, cutting deep into your chest. It wasn’t that you didn’t care about Crowe. You did. You always had. But this… what you felt for Sol—this strange, insatiable need to be closer to him, to know him, to feel something more than friendship—was undeniable. Crowe had always been there, but Sol… he was different.

But now, you had a problem. A big problem.

You loved Crowe. Or, at least, you thought you did. And you couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, of him hating you, of him finding out about the way your heart raced when Sol was near. It was so unfair to Crowe, but you had to do it. You had to.

It was painful, but there was no other choice.

You took a deep breath, shaking your head as you walked toward the exit, your heart heavy with the weight of what you had to do. You couldn’t think of Sol anymore. You couldn’t let yourself be distracted.

You had to push Crowe away.

And the only way to do that was to make him hate you.

As the thought settled in your mind, you could feel your stomach churn. It hurt. It really hurt. But this was the only way to make sure you wouldn’t be distracted. To make sure you could stop yourself from falling any deeper.

You reached the gate, and Crowe was standing there, leaning casually against the wall. He looked up as he saw you approach, a smile lighting up his face. It made your chest tighten.

You hated what you were about to do. But you had no choice.

No one ever said love was easy.

It wasn't just for that.

He's watching, He's always is.

Crowe stood there, radiating his usual easygoing confidence. His bag was neatly placed on the ground, his posture upright and casual, arms held behind his back as he tapped his foot in quiet anticipation.

You felt like you were walking in a dream—or maybe a nightmare. Each step toward him was like dragging yourself through thick, suffocating fog. You were broken. Pieces of your heart scattered, and you didn’t even know how to piece them back together. You didn’t know what you were doing, what you even wanted anymore.

You finally reached him, forcing your voice to sound steady. “Crowe… what’s the work?”

Crowe blinked, clearly surprised. “Work?” His eyebrows furrowed, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “No, Y/N… I just wanted to hang out.”

The words stung like a slap, and a pang of guilt twisted in your chest. Just wanted to hang out.

But the words should’ve been comforting, right? Crowe was always like this—sweet, casual, like he cared. He never made things complicated, never put pressure on you, just wanting to spend time with you. And yet… there was that feeling gnawing at you. A feeling you couldn’t shake, no matter how hard you tried.

“I was thinking of taking you somewhere,” he continued, his voice lighter now. “There’s a neat park nearby. It’s a bit quieter. I can lead you there if you want.” His face lit up with excitement, and for a split second, you thought you saw something more.

Why was he so… excited?

Do you think…? No, it can’t be right.

You looked down at your feet, the weight of the situation sinking in. Regret gnawed at you, but you still smiled, trying to push the discomfort away. “Yeah… that sounds nice.”

Crowe grinned, his eyes bright with that familiar warmth. “Great! Let’s go then.”

Take his hand

TAKE HIS ARM

HAHAHHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA

You bit your lip, trying to find an excuse, any excuse to create distance. You didn’t want to be close to him right now—not when your heart was torn between him and someone else. Not when you couldn’t stop thinking about Sol, and the pain of choosing between them was suffocating.

And then, a solution hit you.

“I’ll carry your bag,” you said quickly, as if the words could erase the guilt already creeping in. You didn’t wait for his protest, picking up the bag and holding it in your hands, keeping it between you and Crowe like a barrier.

He frowned, about to say something. “No, Y/N, you really don’t have to—”

“I insist,” you cut him off, your voice firmer than you felt. “It’s fine. Really.”

You couldn’t let yourself touch him, not right now. Not when your thoughts were so clouded with confusion and desire. You couldn’t let the connection between you two grow any deeper. You had to keep distance, even if it was just a simple gesture like this.

Crowe sighed but didn’t argue, following you with that same concerned look in his eyes.

This is the only way to make sure you won’t get distracted.

You tried not to think too much about how wrong it felt to avoid him like this, but every time you looked at Crowe, your heart sank a little more. He was your friend, your best friend, but the truth was, your feelings were too complicated, too mixed up now.

you walked side by side, the silence between you two felt heavy, suffocating. You tried to focus on the road ahead, telling yourself that this was the right thing to do.

Every step felt like you were walking further away from the person you used to be, a person who hadn’t been so consumed by obsession, by him.

How had it gotten this dark?

You couldn’t ignore the ache in your chest, the constant pull toward Sol. You kept thinking about him—his face, the way his eyes met yours with that unreadable expression, the way your heart had thundered when he leaned in closer, the way he seemed perfect. You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him, not even for a second, and now—now everything else seemed to fade into the background.

You could almost picture it clearly: Sol, leaning down toward you, his lips just inches away, his eyes so intense as if he could feel what you were feeling. You felt your breath quicken, your heartbeat escalating, imagining the moment you would kiss him, desperate for his touch, for something real—something more.

But then, just as you were about to lose yourself in the fantasy, something yanked you back to reality.

Crowe’s hands were suddenly on your arms, pulling you back from the abyss of your thoughts. His grip was firm but gentle, as if afraid you might break under the weight of your own mind.

“Y/N…” he said, voice low, laced with concern. His eyes searched yours, his gaze soft but full of worry. “You’re… you’re making a really concerning expression right now.”

You blinked, feeling a strange, almost drooling sensation, like you were half there and half lost in some other world. You realized you’d been staring into nothing, your mind completely consumed by the image of Sol.

You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe what was happening to you.

“Y/N, you…” Crowe hesitated, unsure how to put it into words. “You look… almost…” He trailed off, his voice a little shaky. “Disgusting?”

His words hit you like a bucket of ice water. Disgusting?

You felt a pit form in your stomach. What was wrong with you?

But Crowe didn’t leave it at that. He could see the confusion in your eyes, the hurt behind your forced smile, and he gently squeezed your arms. “No, Y/N. Nothing you do is disgusting, okay? Nothing.”

His words were meant to reassure you, but they only added to the chaos in your mind. It was almost like you wanted to believe him, but the truth was too overwhelming. You were becoming obsessed with Sol.

No shit sherlock!

You looked at Crowe, barely able to meet his gaze.

You kept walking, but something inside you pulled back. You felt like you were drifting away, each step carrying you further from reality. You heard Crowe's footsteps pause behind you, and when you turned around, his worried expression stopped you in your tracks. His brow furrowed, his mouth set in a firm line as he studied you.

Without warning, he grabbed your hand, his grip gentle yet insistent.

“I wanted to talk about you maybe trying out with our new friends,” Crowe began, his voice a little too calm, too measured. But there was something in his eyes—a flicker of concern—that made your stomach twist.

But he didn’t stop there. “But I won’t ignore the fact that you’ve been different for the past couple of months… something’s wrong.”

You froze, your heart racing. The evening sky had turned dark, the sun dipping below the horizon. Shadows stretched across the empty street as the quiet evening began to feel suffocating. You didn’t want to hear this. You didn’t want him to see through you.

“Ichabod,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, as you tried to brush him off. "You’re wasting my time. I told you, I wanted to hang out. I came out for you." Your words sounded cold, distant, like you were trying to push him away. You weren’t sure anymore if you were trying to hide yourself from Crowe or from your own feelings.

Crowe’s eyes hardened, his jaw clenched as anger began to brew beneath the surface. “Tell me what’s really going on.” His voice was tight, almost accusing. “You’ve been acting off for weeks now. Something’s wrong, and you won’t even talk to me about it.”

His words dug deep, and you felt that same uncomfortable pressure in your chest.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but nothing came out. The thoughts in your head were too chaotic, too tangled.

“You’re just tired, right?” Crowe asked, his tone softening, but there was still an edge to it. “That’s why you’re being so cold, so distant?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t know how to. You were exhausted—mentally, emotionally—but that wasn’t the only reason you were like this. The real truth was something you couldn’t even admit to yourself, let alone him. You couldn’t talk about it. You couldn’t say it aloud.

Without waiting for your response, Crowe let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, we’re heading to the same place, but… this isn’t just to hang out. I’m not going to ignore the fact that you’re acting strange.”

Your heart sank. He had already figured it out.

Crowe’s words were sharper now, almost impatient, as if he was done pretending like everything was fine. “We’re going to talk. Not just waste time. We’re going to talk about what’s going on with you.”

Your body tensed. You felt the pressure of the moment building. You didn’t want to face this. You didn’t want to confront what was happening inside you, because the truth was far more complicated than you were ready to admit.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue.

But Crowe wasn’t buying it. His expression was unreadable, but his grip on your hand remained firm, guiding you forward. You could feel him watching you, analyzing every movement, every word, trying to figure out the truth.

You stood there, staring up at the night sky, your thoughts drifting once again. The stars above were beautiful, too beautiful for what you were feeling. It felt like everything around you was so peaceful, so perfect—but inside, you were falling apart. You couldn’t stop thinking about Sol, the image of him haunting your mind as you pictured him in every corner of your thoughts.

You had to get home. You had to go back. You wondered if he had drugged the food yet, the thought making your stomach churn with an odd mixture of excitement and dread. Sol… you thought.

Why was I always thinking about him?

You chuckled softly to yourself, a laugh that didn’t feel like it belonged to you. The sound was hollow, almost insane in its desperation, and you had no control over it. The more you thought about him, the more you couldn’t stop imagining all the what ifs—what if you could be with him? What if you could make him yours?

You closed your eyes for a moment, the image of Sol’s face appearing before you, his expression warm, inviting, even though it was a fantasy.

You opened your eyes, and it was like you were in a trance. There was Crowe, standing beside you, watching you intently, his gaze sharp and focused. You didn’t notice him at first, lost in your own world, but when you did, you were startled by his expression. He was just standing there, his posture stiff as he watched you with a mixture of confusion and something darker.

His eyes narrowed, almost like he was trying to understand what was going on in your head. It was as if he saw something in you that you didn’t want to admit.

You couldn’t even hide it anymore. You were obsessed. You were lost in thoughts of Sol, and now Crowe could probably see it. He was watching you closely, almost like he was analyzing every move, every flicker of your gaze.

Crowe was silent for a moment, closing his eyes as though trying to calm himself down. He didn’t say anything, and neither did you. There was something heavy hanging between you two, something unspoken that made the air feel thick and suffocating.

You felt like you had been caught, but it wasn’t just about your actions anymore—it was about the part of you that was slipping away, the part of you that was losing its grip on reality. The part of you that was getting too close to Sol. Too obsessed.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to explain it. You couldn’t bring yourself to admit that the only thing on your mind right now was him, and you couldn’t lie to Crowe. But you couldn’t stop.

You were spiraling deeper into this madness, and the more you tried to pull yourself out, the further you fell.

Crowe didn’t speak, but his eyes were still on you, studying you with such intensity. The silence between you two was deafening, and it felt like you couldn’t escape from the weight of the moment. You didn’t know how much longer you could keep pretending everything was fine, because inside, everything was breaking apart.

Finally, Crowe sighed, his voice low and heavy. “Y/N…”

But you didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to hear him lecture you about your behavior, about how wrong you were, how obsessive you had become. Because you already knew. You already felt it. And the worst part was that you didn’t care.

You were too far gone.

Crowe coughed, a forced sound that echoed in the silence between you two, and the moment was ruined. The image of Sol, the one you had been fantasizing about just moments before, began to fade as you were pulled back into the present. You clenched your jaw, an unfamiliar anger bubbling up inside of you.

“What?” you snapped, your voice sharper than intended. The irritation was there, raw and unfiltered. He had broken your daydream—your escape.

Crowe, startled by your sudden outburst, looked away, his eyes betraying a hint of confusion and concern. “Y/N… what happened to you?” he asked, his voice softer now, but still laced with that underlying worry.

You immediately shut down, wanting nothing to do with the question. “Nothing’s wrong,” you muttered, your gaze already shifting back toward the stars, seeking refuge in the familiar expanse of the night sky. You sat down on the grass, trying to drown out the noise in your head.

Crowe didn’t stop. He sat beside you, his presence heavy as he continued to ask questions, trying to piece together the puzzle of what was going on with you. But you didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to think about it.

You buried yourself in the task of picking at the grass, mindlessly drawing out Sol’s name in the dirt with the tips of your fingers. Sol...

Your eyes softened as you traced the letters, the feeling of love and obsession creeping in once more. You didn’t care if it was unhealthy. You didn’t care that you were losing it. In that moment, Sol was everything.

Then, Crowe’s voice broke through again. “Y/N… I’m talking to you.”

You snapped your head toward him, your patience thinning. “Shut up,” you muttered, the words slipping from your mouth before you could even register them. He had ruined it again. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand.

Crowe went silent, and when you looked at him, you saw that his expression had shifted. He looked hurt—surprised, even. But that wasn’t what caught your attention. It was the way he was looking at you, as if he had just realized how different you had become.

Your heart skipped a beat. You knew. You saw it in his eyes, in the way he now regarded you. You were scary.

You suddenly felt that weight pressing down on your chest—the guilt, the realization of what you had just become. Your eyes, the same ones that hadn’t slept properly in days, were dark and haunted. You could feel the darkness inside you swirling, pulling you deeper into this obsession.

You felt the regret hit you like a wave, and without thinking, you..

Crowe’s eyes softened, and there was a painful hesitation in his voice. He looked at you, trying to piece together the person in front of him—the person you used to be. “What happened to you...?” His voice was tinged with sadness, something you had never heard from him before. It was like he was watching a stranger before him, and it made you feel... uncomfortable, uneasy.

You cocked your head slightly, feigning confusion, though deep down you knew exactly what he was getting at. “What do you mean?” you asked, your voice quieter now, as you tried to keep your emotions under wraps.

Crowe ran a hand through his hair, a sigh escaping his lips before he spoke again. “It’s just! Look at you! You’re... nowadays sleep-deprived, always walking away... One of the students even complained to the council that you were... laughing a lot in the restroom. You threatened them to be silent... This isn’t like you...” His voice faltered at the end, as if he were afraid to say too much, afraid of pushing you further.

You shrugged, trying to dismiss it. “Ah, so what?” You could feel the coldness creeping into your tone, but you couldn’t stop it. It wasn’t like you cared anymore.

“I’m not sure who you are anymore...” Crowe's words were heavy, like each one was a weight being pressed onto you. “You used to be a quiet, caring, bookworm artist who liked to listen... and a good child who cared about their father getting their land back. But now...” He trailed off, his voice thick with concern.

You stared at him, your expression hardening. “Ichabod, stop it... Crowe, what’s with you? What are you trying to say?” Your voice cracked slightly with frustration, but you didn’t let it show too much. You weren’t going to let him make you feel guilty, not when everything inside you was already breaking apart.

“You’re not yourself anymore,” he said, his voice quiet now, almost pleading. “Is there a reason...? You’ve become so... cold. Toward me too... You used to...”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but you refused to show any sign of weakness. You didn’t want to hear it. “You only know me for what you think,” you said through clenched teeth. “You don’t know me as a person. You don’t have the right to complain.”

Crowe’s face twisted, the hurt evident in his eyes as he took a step closer, his voice trembling. “Complain?! Y/N! I’m someone who cares about you! I’m worried about you!”

You couldn’t stop the bitter laugh that escaped your lips. “Cared?” you spat, the word leaving a bad taste in your mouth. “Don’t make me laugh, Crowe. Didn’t I just say? Friend... friend... friend...” The word felt like a poison on your tongue. You hated it, but you said it anyway.

He was taken aback, the raw emotion in his face faltering as he blinked at you, unsure how to respond. “Then... What am I to you?” His voice was shaky, desperate for an answer.

You looked at him, almost broken, as the answer came to you, something so twisted and bitter you couldn’t help but say it. “You WERE MY savior,” you said, your voice hollow. “A friend.” You looked away quickly, trying to hide the sinking feeling inside you. What have I become?

Crowe stood there for a moment, processing your words, before he shook his head slightly. “Then I guess... I don’t really know who you are anymore, Y/N. What you are...” His voice cracked. "I’m sorry for ruining your day.”

You didn’t know how to feel anymore. His words had hit you harder than anything, but you couldn’t bring yourself to show it. “Yeah, you don’t,” you whispered. Crowe was about to..leave but he held your arm.

Crowe’s grip on your arm tightened, his voice sharp and laced with panic. “What’s wrong with you?” he demanded, his face flushed with a mix of confusion and frustration. “Why are you acting like this? What happened to you?!”

His desperate eyes were searching yours, but all you could feel was anger and suffocating tension. You had enough of his questions, enough of his concern. You had too much of him in your life, and it was beginning to tear you apart. You couldn’t breathe in the face of it anymore.

"Shut up!" you screamed, the words ripping through the silence. "Shut up, Crowe! Just... shut up!"

You yanked your arm away from him, the fire in your chest growing. This wasn’t you, not the person he thought you were. Not anymore. You had changed, and he needed to accept it.

Crowe’s eyes widened in shock, but you couldn’t care less. He didn’t understand. He wouldn’t. You were done trying to explain yourself to someone who couldn’t see the chaos inside your mind.

Suddenly, you grabbed him by the collar, pulling him closer with force, your body trembling with the anger you could no longer suppress. “YOU’RE THE PROBLEM!” you screamed at him, your voice cracking. "YOU distract me, away from my life. You make everything so damn complicated! I want to focus on something, but you keep getting in my way! You make everything harder!"

Tears welled in your eyes, but you fought them back, gritting your teeth. “I DON’T WANT FRIENDS! LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!”

Your breath came in shallow gasps as you shoved him away, forcing yourself to take a step back. You grabbed your bag, clutching it tightly as if it were the last thing keeping you grounded.

Crowe stood frozen, his face pale, looking as if your words had physically struck him. But his voice was quiet, almost resigned. “Have fun with the group of people you’re trying to fix,” you spat bitterly. “But stay the hell away from me. I’m done.”

You turned sharply, your heart hammering in your chest as you walked away, the cold night air hitting your face, but you barely felt it. Your legs carried you without thought, away from Crowe, away from the situation you had created.

“Have fun with your new friends. I’m telling you this now... if you want to live happily... Stay with them. I’m done for.”

And with that, you walked away, your heart torn in two but your mind resolute. You didn’t look back. You couldn’t afford to.

You made it home, the door slamming shut behind you as you staggered into the dimly lit living room. The emptiness felt like it was swallowing you whole, but it was the kind of emptiness you had grown used to. The kind that didn't scream for attention, just quietly gnawed at your soul.

You collapsed to the floor, pulling your knees to your chest as your body shook. The tears came like a dam breaking open—heavy, hot, and relentless. It wasn’t just from the fight with Crowe, not just because of the raw pain in your chest. No, it was because you had to do it. You had to push him away, had to convince yourself that you hated him. You had to protect him.

It wasn’t like you didn’t care about Crowe; it was the opposite. You cared too much. And that kind of care was dangerous when you had someone like Sol watching you from the shadows, his jealousy like a burning fuse ready to snap at any moment. You had seen it, the way he watched Crowe, the way his eyes hardened whenever his name was mentioned.

Sol could never find out about Crowe. If Sol knew, he would kill him—you were sure of it. And that couldn’t happen. Not while you still had this insane, twisted obsession with Sol. The last thing you wanted was to lose the only person who made you feel something in this chaotic mess of emotions.

and to be peaceful with sol.

You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, taking a shuddering breath as you reached for the small pile of things you had been hiding in your bag. It was a strange collection: a piece of bandage you had stolen from the nurse’s office, a pencil Sol had left on his desk, a scrap of paper with a doodle of his—just things, little things. But to you, they were treasures. They were all you had left of him.

Hugging them to your chest, you buried your face in the soft bandage. His scent lingered faintly on it, something sharp and comforting. The smell of Sol. The smell of everything you wanted. It calmed the storm inside your head, at least for a moment.

Your mind wandered, thoughts growing hazy as the delusions crept in. You imagined Sol with you, imagined him loving you, imagined a life where he saw you as something more than just an object of desire. But that was all it would ever be—delusion. And yet, it felt so real, so comforting in that moment of weakness.

You clung to the bandage tighter, your tears soaking into the fabric. You couldn’t stop it. You wanted to scream, to let it all out, but the sensation of holding onto something—anything—was a distraction. It kept you from falling apart completely.

And in that moment, despite the overwhelming sadness, you felt a twisted sense of gratitude. “Thank God…” you whispered, your voice cracking. You didn’t even know what you were thankful for...

You sat there in the darkness of your room, the weight of the bandage pressing against your chest as you clutched it tighter, your fingers trembling with a twisted sense of ownership. The smell of Sol was still faint on the fabric, but to you, it was everything. It was him, in your hands, in your arms, in your mind.

A sick, deranged smile stretched across your lips, creeping its way into your expression as you hugged the bandages closer. The soft, comforting scent of Sol's presence made your heart race, and every thought felt like a desperate plea to keep him to yourself, to make him yours. It didn’t matter that you knew how wrong it all was; it didn’t matter that you were sinking deeper into this madness. In this moment, you were consumed, body and soul, by the idea of him.

You could almost see him—feel him—right next to you. The way his eyes would soften when he looked at you, how his voice would whisper your name in that quiet, gentle way, if only he knew how much you loved him. The fantasies played in your mind like a twisted film reel, each scene more vivid, more real than the last.

“Sol...” you whispered, barely able to keep the name from slipping off your tongue. “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

Your voice was soft, almost reverent, but there was a madness in your eyes. Your pupils dilated as your smile deepened, the corners of your mouth stretching until it felt like your face couldn’t contain the longing and obsession.

The bandage in your hands was no longer just a piece of cloth. It was a symbol. A symbol of the twisted bond you had with him, the bond you were building, even if he didn’t know it. You felt your chest tighten, your breath hitching in your throat. You imagined what it would be like when he finally realized—when he finally saw you, truly saw you, not just as a fleeting moment in his life, but as the one who loved him the most, the one who would never let him go.

Your mind raced, wild and untamed, thoughts spiraling in a whirlpool of desperation. What would you do if he knew? Would he ever love you back, or would he push you away like everyone else had? No. You wouldn’t let that happen.

You could feel a twinge of possessiveness, something dark and primal clawing at your insides, as you pressed the bandage to your face, inhaling deeply.

I need him. I need him so much…

A bitter laugh bubbled up from deep within your throat, a hollow sound that echoed around the room, dark and twisted. “I’ll make sure no one takes you from me. Not anyone. You’ll be mine, Sol. Forever...”

You closed your eyes, your fingers clutching the bandage as if it were the most precious thing in the world. A tear slipped down your cheek, though it wasn’t from sadness. It was from the overwhelming need, the obsessive desire that consumed every corner of your heart.

You smiled again, slower this time, as you whispered to the empty room, “You’ll see... You’ll see, Sol. We’re meant to be. You have me in your order already.."

The sudden buzz of your phone broke through the fog of obsession, pulling you back to reality with a jolt. Your heart skipped a beat as you saw Crowe’s name flash on the screen. You felt a rush of panic that surged through your chest like ice-water.

Shit.

You quickly unlocked your phone, your fingers trembling as you read his message. "Hey, can I add you to the group chat with the others? Just thought it’d be fun to hang out more!"

You stared at the words, each syllable clawing at you.every interaction with Crowe felt like another chain around your neck, pulling you further away from Sol, from the delusion of him.

Your heart raced, a sick, suffocating feeling creeping up your throat. You couldn't afford to keep Crowe close. He was a distraction. The more you interacted with him, the more dangerous it became. Sol was always watching, always simmering in the background, and you couldn’t risk him finding out about Crowe. No more distractions.

Before you could stop yourself, your fingers moved faster than your mind. You typed the word “no” before deleting the message, quickly following up by erasing his contact entirely.

Done. That’s it. No more Crowe.

You breathed a sigh of relief—for now. You thought you could relax. You thought you could get back to your twisted little world with Sol, without anyone else interfering.

But then it happened.

The sickening realization hit you like a brick to the chest.

SHIT.

Crowe had added you to the group chat before you deleted his contact.

Your heart sank. You cursed under your breath, panic bubbling up inside you. You immediately opened the group chat, only to be greeted by a flood of messages. His name was there, right at the top of the list, and your chest tightened as you saw a few of the others already chatting away.

The chat was buzzing with messages about the Halloween party at school this Friday. The excitement was palpable, everyone discussing costumes, plans, and what to expect. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of anticipation in the air as you scrolled through the messages, catching bits and pieces of the conversation.

Your mind drifted, and a thought struck you suddenly—maybe I should ask him to come with me.

Without a second thought, you quickly snapped a screenshot of the party announcement that Deryl had sent earlier, one with all the details. You attached it to the message and sent it in the group chat, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe you weren’t just sharing the information with the others.

Almost immediately, your phone buzzed with a response from Sol.

“A Halloween Party hosted by the school?” he asked, his message clear and direct, as always.

You felt a small spark of hope rise within you. Maybe this could be the perfect chance.

You sent another message, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you typed, asking if Sol had eaten yet. It felt like a random question, but your mind was racing, eager for some kind of connection.

You kept sending little questions, almost aimlessly—anything to keep the conversation going. It felt like you were trying to fill the silence, but deep down, you knew what you were really doing.

You were craving his attention, his responses. You couldn’t help it.

"I'm not quite into parties," Sol replied after a moment, his words calm but distant.

"Oh... Well, that's alright, just asking, that's all," you quickly typed back, trying not to sound disappointed, though a part of you was.

Then, to your surprise, another message came in almost immediately.

"Wait."

Your heart skipped a beat.

"If you're coming, then I'm coming as well."

The words sent a wave of excitement through you. He’s coming?!

"Really?!" you typed, almost too quickly, feeling a smile tug at your lips.

"Really," he replied, and for a moment, you felt your stomach flip.

"Do you plan on dressing up?" you asked, the curiosity getting the best of you.

"I don't know. Do you?" he responded.

"I mean, it's a costume party. Why not?" you replied, enthusiasm creeping into your tone.

"I'll think of something then," he said, and you could almost hear the slight smile in his words.

You hesitated for a moment, not sure whether to push Sol into the idea of going to the party. It felt like too much pressure, so you decided to soften your approach.

"It’s fine if you don’t want to come..." you typed, trying to make it sound casual. You didn’t want to make him feel obligated, but you couldn’t deny the ache in your chest at the thought of being alone at the party.

"Pardon?" he responded quickly, a bit confused. You could almost picture the raised eyebrow from him, a slight shift in tone.

"I mean, it’s Friday, so it’s the weekend, right?" You continued, trying to hide the vulnerability behind your words. "We could still hang out without going to the party. I just... didn’t want to be lonely."

There it was, the truth spilling out, but also a part of you knowing it was a perfect excuse for your real intentions. You needed Sol close. You needed him to understand that Crowe was out of the picture, that no one else could get in the way.

He was quiet for a moment, then typed: "Do you want to hang out with me?"

Your heart skipped. You didn't even hesitate.

"Yes," you typed, without a second thought. It was like you were dropping the last of your guard, exposing the raw, desperate need for his presence.

But deep down, you also knew you were playing the game just right. You were making sure to look like you were alone, like you didn’t have anyone else in your life. Crowe was out, and now Sol could see how easy it would be for him to sweep in. He’ll understand, you thought to yourself. I’m the fresh rabbit, and he’s always watching.

Your thoughts wandered to your conversation. You knew Sol liked horror films, he’d mentioned it before. You felt a surge of inspiration.

"What about a horror movie?" you asked casually. "You know, something fun, something we can watch while hanging out?"

There was a slight pause before he replied. And then it came.

"I guess I could do that...," he typed, and for the first time, there was something different in his words. It was as if he wasn’t just dry and indifferent anymore. He sounded... slightly interested.

It made your heart flutter. He’s cute, you thought to yourself, smiling as you typed.

You slipped into the kitchen, eyes scanning the food you had prepared earlier. You opened the containers, one after another, heart thudding in your chest. But it wasn’t touched. Not a single bite.

Your chest tightened as you checked another batch, and then another. The seals were intact. Nothing had been opened.

He’s not coming tonight.

You felt the realization hit you like a wave. The silence of the empty space was deafening, and you wanted to scream, to cry, to lash out at the crushing disappointment. But instead, you swallowed it all, letting the heaviness settle deep within.

Grabbing something quick to eat, you barely tasted it. The food turned to ash in your mouth as you moved to your room. The quiet was unbearable. You needed to do something—anything to distract yourself from the longing, the ache that refused to go away.

You sank to the floor, pulling your sketchbook and supplies toward you. The charcoal pencil felt familiar in your fingers, a lifeline. You began to draw, the lines forming without thought, your hands moving like a machine. Stroke after stroke, his face emerged on the paper. Sol.

His soft, yet piercing eyes. The way his lips held a hint of mystery, the curve of his jawline—strong but refined. Every detail you etched felt like worship, your devotion spilling onto the page. You poured yourself into the drawing, the room around you fading away until there was only him.

When it was done, a small, trembling smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You stared at the portrait, your sleepless eyes red and raw, but filled with an almost manic satisfaction.

Slowly, you hugged the portrait to your chest, clutching it as though it were him. The paper crinkled slightly under your grip, but you didn’t care. You kissed the charcoal lips on the drawing, your own trembling, tears sliding down your cheeks.

"Please... just be mine already," you whispered brokenly, your voice trembling with desperation. "I can’t wait anymore, Sol. I... I’ll do anything, just tell me what you want. Tell me, Please."

You stared into the lifeless eyes of the portrait, waiting for it to answer, to give you some sign. But of course, it was silent. You begged again, your tears smudging the edges of the drawing.

"Say something... please," you choked out.

But the portrait didn’t speak. It remained still, just like the real Sol—always so close, yet so far.

Curling around the paper, you let out a soft, pained sob. The ache in your heart felt unbearable, but you couldn’t stop. This obsession, this need—it had consumed you entirely. And no matter how much it hurt, you didn’t want it to stop. You wanted to push yourself with work.

The laundry room was quiet, the steady hum of the machine and the rhythmic sloshing of water the only sounds accompanying your thoughts. You moved mechanically, pulling clothes from the hamper, sorting them into piles, trying to ignore the lingering haze of obsession that clouded your mind.

I can’t keep going like this... you thought to yourself, folding one of your shirts. I need to focus on normal things. Normal people do laundry. Normal people don’t... don’t...

Your train of thought derailed as your hands brushed the fabric of a familiar piece of clothing. You frowned slightly, realizing something was missing. The set wasn’t complete. You glanced at the piles, searching, your hands moving faster, more frantic. Something wasn’t right.

Quickly, you abandoned the laundry, heading to your cupboard to double-check. You rifled through your drawers, tossing clothes aside until you found what you were looking for—or rather, what you weren’t finding. One of your shirts—your favorite, the one you wore at home—was gone.

At first, you froze, confusion flashing through you. Then, slowly, your lips parted into a soft giggle. Your face flushed as the realization dawned on you.

Oh, Sol...

A hand flew to your mouth as a giddy, almost delirious laugh escaped your lips. Your knees buckled, and you sat down in front of the cupboard, staring at the empty space where that clothing should’ve been.

He took it again. He stole it. That adorable little thief... How cute.

Your blush deepened as you thought about it. He can’t help himself, can he? It’s unfair... You glanced toward your bed, where the collection of his things was hidden away. He gets to take my clothes, and I only have his bandages and a pencil. It’s not enough.

You hugged your knees, staring dreamily at the laundry pile. The fabric, the scent, the soft feeling—it all reminded you of him. You let out a small, love-struck sigh, the flush on your face deepening.

"Oh, Sol," you murmured to yourself, your voice barely above a whisper. "When will you realize you already have me entirely like this? And yet, you still sneak and steal like a kid... You’re so cute."

For a moment, the world outside of Sol ceased to exist. Crowe, the laundry, your day-to-day life—it all faded into nothingness. There was only Sol. Your heart raced as you stood, your movements purposeful now. You opened the cupboard and pulled out the box where you kept his things—your most precious treasures. The bandages, his pencil, a tiny doodle of his you’d swiped from class. All of it.

You sat on the ground and opened your journal. The familiar pages greeted you, filled with sketches, notes, little scraps of his life that you’d painstakingly collected. Each page was a testament to your obsession, your devotion.

But this journal was full now, the last page crammed with your thoughts about him. There was no more room to document the all-encompassing love you felt. You smiled softly, running your fingers over the cover before carefully placing it into the box with the rest of the treasures.

"Time for a fresh start," you whispered to yourself.

You pulled out a new journal, the pages pristine and blank, waiting to be filled. You grabbed a pen and carefully wrote "Sol" on the first page in your neatest handwriting.

"Yay!" you said aloud, a childlike excitement bubbling up as you hugged the new journal to your chest. You tucked the box away in the cupboard and stood, a sense of accomplishment warming you. This is perfect. It’s all for you, Sol.

The day’s events had left you feeling drained, but for the first time in what felt like months, it wasn’t a bad kind of exhaustion. It was the sort that pulled you to the ground with a soft, irresistible weight. You lay down, clutching the sketch of Sol you’d finished earlier, holding it close like a lifeline.

You stared at it for a moment, tracing the lines with your fingers. His eyes, his lips, his hair—it was all there, captured perfectly. You pressed a kiss to the paper, your eyes fluttering closed.

"I love you," you whispered to the drawing, your voice barely audible. "One day, it’ll be real..."

The tears that slipped down your cheeks weren’t sad this time. They were soft, almost sweet, as you hugged the drawing closer and allowed your exhaustion to take over.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you drifted into sleep, clutching Sol’s likeness to your chest. Your dreams were filled with him, his presence warm and consuming, just like always. But this time, there was a strange comfort in it. The kind that made you feel like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

(Matchmaker Charlie AU)

*Charlie woke up confused, instead of in her bed with Vaggie, she was laying on the softest grass she felt, it even put her bed to shame when it came to softness*

?: Are you alright? Are you an angel, you must be a new one since I haven’t met you before, but you look like an angel.

*Charlie sat up and was in awe of the beauty around her, also the voice she heard sounded familiar to her, she looked up and saw a man sitting on a tree branch, the only word she could use to describe this man was beautiful, he had lightly tanned skin, short hair the color of milk chocolate, and brown eyes with a hint of honey gold to them, the most shocking was that this man was very much naked, in fact he had no shame in showing off his dick that would be quite impressive though Charlie hadn’t seen many dicks to compare*

Charlie: Wait, who are you?

*the man giggled cutely*

?: Don’t you know who I am, I am Adam the first human man.

*Charlie then remembered the same voice sounding more arrogant saying “Do you know who I am, I’m fucking Adam” but this was nothing like the man she met at Heaven’s Embassy, in fact he wasn’t even like the man that was described in the book her mom wrote about the origins of Hell, Adam jumped down from the tree looking her over in a very innocent manner*

Adam: You look like an Archangel Luci.

Charlie: Luci?

Adam: Luci is the best, in fact he should be here soon. I can take you to meet him. I forgot to ask what your name is.

Charlie: My name is Charlie, it’s nice to meet you Adam.

*she held her hand out to Adam and he shook with such a friendly smile, Charlie wondered when Adam would start acting like how her mother had described her, he took her hand and they walked through what Charlie realized was Eden, there was actually something endearing about Adam, just then they stopped at a pond with the cutest little ducks she had ever seen, she knew that her father probably would have loved a place like this, Adam then got a smile as he looked up*

Adam: Luci!!!!

*Charlie looked up and gasped, it was her father, Lucifer Morningstar when he was an angel of Heaven, she looked over at Adam and realization hit her*

Charlie internally: Adam was in love with my dad.

She watched as Adam ran over to her father Luicfer and they hugged each other, Lucifer even spun him around a little bit.

Lucifer: Addie! It's so good to see you dove.

Charlie was so shocked by the affectionate nickname and how Adam flushed pink. They looked at each other like they were the most perfect beings in the universe.

Adam: Oh, you just have to meet the new angel her name is Charlie!

Lucifer looked puzzled, new angel? Surely he would have heard if his father made a new angel. He looked over to her and was shocked, this girl was very pretty but she didn't look angelic. She actually looked like a female version of himself with red and yellow eyes.

How odd.

Lucifer smiled and held out his hand: Nice to meet you Charlie.

Charlie shook his hand: Hi da-.... Lucifer. It's nice to meet you.

Adam ran over and picked up a duckling and held it up for both Lucifer and Charlie, his smile wide and innocent.

Adam: Look! They just had babies, aren't they just the sweetest?

Lucifer: Yes! Do you remember your purpose Adam? To eventually have babies of your own?

Adam nodded, his smile was shy and Charlie didn't miss the way his hand went to his belly as if he were the one that wanted to carry the baby.

Adam knew he had to have kids at some point but he wanted them with Lucifer so badly, he didn't think Lilith liked him very much and he didn't know why.

Charlie could see the shy looks they were giving each other. Did her dad.... Love Adam back?

[strnilolover]

NNN - matt sturniolo - family issues

!Warming! : this writing may contain sensitive topics for some people, including family fighting and burn out. please read with caution if family arguments or arguments in general easily trigger you.

You had slammed the cabinet door shut harder than you expected to. Your mothers words cutting your skin like a knife, your patience snapping like a taut rubber band that had been stretched too far. “I can’t believe you just said that.” you gritted, turning to her.

Your mom stood across the kitchen, arms crossed, her eyes narrowed in irritation. “I said what I said. You’re always lounging around, doing nothing, while I’m the one keeping this house together.” she spat out.

“Are you kidding me?” Your voice rose as you turned to face her, incredulous. “I vacuumed the whole house this morning, cleaned the bathroom, and scrubbed the kitchen. I’ve been running around all day trying to keep this place livable while you’ve been sitting on the couch!” your voice raised more — you were irritated and upset.

why can’t she just see how hard you work?

“And yet, the laundry is still sitting in the basket, isn’t it?” she shot back, her tone sharp and cutting. “You can’t even finish one thing properly!” her own hands slammed against the counter as her words left her lips.

Your hands balled into fists at your sides, shaking. “I can’t do everything! I’m one person! You don’t even notice the things I do unless there’s something left undone.” you could feel the tears brimming in your eyes — but you couldn’t let her see she was affecting you, you had to be strong.

“Oh, poor you,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Life is so hard for you, isn’t it? You act like you’re doing me some huge favor by cleaning, but you live here too. It’s your responsibility.”

You stared at her, your chest heaving. “Do you even hear yourself? I am doing my part, and then some! You’re the one who doesn’t lift a finger but still complains that nothing’s good enough.” you choked out.

Her face twisted in anger. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that. You have no idea what I deal with every day, keeping this house running and keeping you in it!” she screamed, coming around the counter and getting closer to you,

“Keeping me in it? Are you serious right now?” you echoed, your voice trembling more with disbelief and hurt. “You act like I’m some freeloader who doesn’t contribute. I’m breaking my back trying to help you, and all you do is tear me down!” Your said. “And on top of everything, I worked a full shift this morning. What more do you want from me?”

you were trying, you really were. Did she not see that?

Her scoff was sharp, cutting through the room. “Oh, sure. You do barely the minimum and expect a medal. Maybe if you spent less time pretending to help and more time actually contributing, I wouldn’t have to ask you for money all the time!” she was almost in your face now, you could feel her breath fanning you.

You stared at her, your hands trembling with frustration as you leaned back a little. “Are you seriously throwing that in my face? Every time you ask me for money, I give it to you. Every single time. Do you even know how hard it is to keep my job and still manage everything at home?”

She shook her head. “Don’t act like you’re some kind of saint,” she snapped. “You live here. It’s your responsibility to pitch in. Or do you think you’re entitled to a free ride?”

“I do pitch in! I’m doing everything! I pay bills when you’re short, I clean up after everyone, and I still go to work to make sure I can cover my own expenses. What do you even do besides sit there and criticize me?” you snapped back, leaning forward from your leaned back position — though that might not have been the best idea.

Her nostrils flared as her eyes turned dark, and she jabbed a finger at your chest — the force digging into your skin making you wince slightly. “Don’t you dare take that tone with me. I’ve sacrificed everything for this family, and all I ask is for you to pull your weight.”

“Pull my weight?” you repeated, your body beginning to tremble more from your overwhelmed emotions. “I’ve been carrying this house on my back, and you know it! But sure, let’s pretend I’m the problem. It’s easier for you, isn’t it?” you sniffled slightly, the words barely making it past your lips and you tried to keep it together.

“You know what?” she snapped, throwing her hands up. “If you hate it here so much, then maybe you shouldn’t come back. Go find somewhere else to stay if you think you’ve got it so bad.”

Her words stung, piercing deeper than you expected. “Fine,” you said, your voice cold and steady despite the tears beginning to spill over your waterline. “I will.”

Grabbing your keys and slipping on your shoes, you muttered under your breath, “Maybe you’ll finally notice how much I actually do when I’m not here to do it anymore.”

“Don’t come crying to me when you realize how easy you have it,” she called out as you slammed the door behind you.

The cold night air hit your face, mingling with the tears that spilled over as you made your way to your car. Your hands were shaking so badly that it took three tries to get the keys into the ignition.

You barely registered the drive to Matt’s house, your mind replaying the fight over and over like a broken record. By the time you reached his front door, your tears were coming harder, the lump in your throat so heavy it hurt to swallow.

You hadn’t even raised your hand to knock when the door opened. Matt stood there in sweatpants and a hoodie, his hair tousled like he’d been lying down, but his entire demeanor shifted the moment he saw you. His brows furrowed in concern as his eyes scanned your tear-streaked face.

“Baby,” he said softly, stepping aside to let you in. “What’s wrong?”

As soon as his arms opened, you crumbled into him. The second you felt his warmth and smelled the familiar scent of his cologne — something woodsy and comforting — you broke down completely. Your hands clutched at his hoodie as your sobs wracked your body.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Just let it out.”

He gently guided you into the living room, keeping you close as he sat down on the couch and pulled you into his lap. His large hands rubbed soothing circles on your back while his other hand cradled the back of your head.

“I-I can’t do it anymore, Matt,” you finally managed to choke out between sobs. “She doesn’t see anything I do. She doesn’t care. She just — she just keeps tearing me down.”

“Who?” he asked softly, leaning back just enough to look at you. His hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Who’s tearing you down?”

“My mom,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “She said I don’t do anything, but I do everything. I worked this morning, cleaned the whole house, and then she asked me for money again — like she always does — and still told me I don’t pull my weight. It’s like… no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough for her.”

Matt’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with anger. “That’s not fair. You work so hard, and she has no right to treat you like that. I’ve seen how much you do, how much you give. You’re amazing, and if she can’t see that, then that’s on her — not you.” he said, holding you tighter to him.

You sniffled, wiping at your cheeks. “It just hurts, you know? I’ve been trying so hard to keep everything together, and she acts like I’m nothing but a burden.”

“You are not a burden,” he said firmly, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “Do you hear me? You are not a burden. You’re one of the strongest, most selfless people I know. She doesn’t deserve you.” he stated, making sure you knew his words were true.

“But she’s my mom,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “I want to make her proud. I want her to see that I’m trying.” Matt’s expression softened, and he leaned in to rest his forehead against yours. “I know you do. But you don’t have to destroy yourself to earn someone else’s approval, especially hers. You’re enough just as you are, okay? You’re more than enough.”

You let out a shaky breath, fresh tears spilling over, but this time they weren’t just from sadness. There was something in his words, in the way he held you, that eased the tightness in your chest.

“Thank you,” you whispered. He shook his head, “You don’t have to thank me,” he said gently. “That’s what I’m here for.”

He adjusted you in his lap, tucking the blanket tighter around your shoulders before pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Listen, you’re staying here tonight. No arguments. I’m not letting you go back there like this.” he muttered against your temple.

“I don’t want to go back,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Then you won’t,” he said firmly. “This is your home tonight, and for as long as you need it to be.”

You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His hand rubbed slow, soothing circles on your back, and his voice was soft when he spoke again.

“You know you’re not alone, right? You’ve got me. Always.”

You sniffled once more. “I know,” you whispered. “I just… I feel so unappreciated sometimes. Like nothing I do matters.” you could feel the self doubt settling into you now — from your mothers words earlier. Were you really not doing a good enough job?

“It matters to me,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “Everything you do matters to me. I see you, and I’m so proud of you. You’re doing more than anyone should ever have to, and you’re doing it so well.”

You looked up at him, your heart clenching at the sincerity in his eyes. “You really mean that?”

He hummed, “Of course I do,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it until you believe me. You’re incredible, and anyone who can’t see that is blind.” And a soft laugh escaped you, he grinned, his thumb brushing your cheek. “There she is. There’s my girl.”

You felt your cheeks flush at the nickname, and for the first time all day, the tightness in your chest began to ease. “Do you want to talk more about it, or do you just want to relax?” he asked gently. “Relax,” you said after a moment. “I’m too tired to think anymore.”

“Good call,” he said with a smile, grabbing the remote from the coffee table. “How about something stupidly funny? Or do you want me to cook something for you first? I can make you those pancakes you like.” You shook your head, leaning into him. “Just stay with me.”

“Always,” he murmured, pulling you closer.

He put on some random comedy show, and you both sat in comfortable silence for a while. His hand never stopped tracing lazy patterns on your back, and every now and then, he’d drop a kiss to the top of your head. By the time you started to drift off, your body nestled against his, you felt a little lighter than you had in days.

© strnilolover

a/n : am i self projecting? maybe. but i’m not in that situation anymore and haven’t been for over a year. but please, if any of you are in this kind of situation, know that there is always a way out. don’t be afraid to ask for help. (i also wrote this on the bus without my glasses so i’m so sorry if some parts may not make sense)

[cator99]

please finish your wedding story, i so badly want to hear the rest of it. i await eagerly.

>everyone lived happily ever after

>a few weeks pass

>I write the brides a lengthy and detailed letter of recommendation to their immigration lawyer

>they're overjoyed and think its a beautiful letter, and I'm glad to help because I hope they last forever and get everything they want in life, if I may drop the act and be sincere for a moment

>a few days pass. the bride I've known for over 15 years messages me

>however... she doesn't care. she's on her honeymoon. and I'm just some chick she was friends with as a kid. what does upset her is how she found out.

>at first I assume that the woman who reached out to her (who I knew back in jr high, and is a few years older than me) was just trying to upset her

>bride tells me about how this woman was her best friend and then suddenly blocked her out of nowhere, which was (and is) still very painful for her

>the woman, who we will refer to as "A" whips up a story about being concerned for the bride's safety and privacy or something

>bride is confused. there's no identifying information. the post is a nothingburger to her. what's important here is that she's upset that this woman messaged her after 4 years, not to make things right..... but to talk about "zander"

>right, this is about me, because this is "A" we're talking about here...... hell hath no fury like a closet case scorned

how did she find my blog?

I assume it went like this:

>"A" goes to peek at her ex-bestie's wedding photos

>"Zander" Spotted

>runs to LC

>"hey does anyone remember Zander who I used to post about on here all the time 7 years ago? I may have found an update!"

>"that's terf cator99 who was posted about on the Women Youre Ashamed To Want To Fuck thread you fucking idiot that looks nothing like her"

>no here's proof!

>autism ensues

>several replies get deleted, other responses indicate they're "A" sperging and linking my blog

>people argue if I deserve to be there anymore

>"she's a tif"

>"no"

> yes"

>"no"

>"I used to know her" ["A" posting]

>"tell us more!"

>"she used to have this one pair of glasses and then she had this other pair of glasses that looked really good on her..."

meanwhile:

>assume she's probably back on her LC shit

>find and link bride to the LC thread and explain to her that "A" has just been trolling for fun and to pay it no mind, you're better off without her in your life

>"hey bride-chan, not to be weird but I'm just trying to understand this shit, do you think A ever had a thing for me... I always kind of assumed she was bi or gay when we were younger and thought it was cool that she was androgynous and went to school dressed as Kaito from vocaloid all the time so I wanted to be her friend but she was pretty rude to people and I backed off"

>"well i dont know but she's married to a man now..."

>yet here she is trying to get under the skin of two women who are with other women

to be fair I earned the lolcow title fair and square years ago all on my own, and really do feel I owe "A" a favor for introducing me to the site. it was very formative for me to find out places like that existed right at the moment I was starting to have conflicting thoughts about the trans shit so I could gain some self-awareness (and general awareness overall) (shout out to "A"s friend who cowtipped to me.....)

meanwhile, on LC:

>"well done ladies, we've figured it all out. Butch Lesbian cator99 is currently partying with gay men, and It is common knowledge that "gay men" are all secretly bisexuals who are looking to hook up with women who say things like "I'm a lesbian" and "I am not attracted to males". That is their mating call, in fact. These words activate the Hetero gland in the Amygdala like a sleeper agent who has been biologically programmed– as we all are– to stop the kiki-ing and split off into heterosexual pairings at the end of a poppers-fuelled night assless-twerking to Britney."

>"good work. But I'll one-up you: look at this screenshot."

[photo from an instagram account, featuring a photo of 17 year old Zander's legs in the bath. "I Am Totally Into Epic Awesome Penis Now!!!!!!" (She had never seen a penis)]

>"yes, this is definitely a normal thing for a straight woman to say. I always knew she was a faker."

>"yes. as im sure you're all aware, there are many social and career benefits from pretending to be a lesbian."

>"doesn't that idiot know that she can't just lie and change her orientation? I can't believe she's been straight this whole time."

>"what does she have to gain from lying?"

>"She's so adamant about being a lesbian, which is a dead giveaway for a cover-up operation. The more they resist, the more evident it is that they are lying in order to gain access to that highly lauded Online Lesbian Following, which is something every straight woman wants deep down."

meanwhile:

>call gf

>"bad news. I just found out I'm actually straight."

[nobodysdaydreams]

I don’t know to what extent the “they added stuff to Wicked Part 2” is true, but if they did add stuff, I’m gonna need the Wizard to face the music a little bit more because his story ends with him believing he murdered his own child for the stupidest of reasons and that needs more attention.

Not only is he a deadbeat and a powerless con man, but he puts a hit out on his own long-lost daughter (the witch) who once looked up to him as a hero. He even sends a lost little girl (Dorothy) to do the job, since he’s too much of coward to face the witch himself.

Does he do this because Elphaba is trying to kill him?

No, he does it because she’s calling out his animal abuse and won’t use her own super powerful magic to help her old man trick people into thinking he’s cool.

Do they at least have an “I am your father moment” like in Star Wars?

No, in the musical, she never finds out (though that might be for the best), but when the Wizard does, he had the audacity to act shocked and sad even though he was getting with random women in his youth and giving them all mysterious green beverages so really this shouldn’t be surprising, statistically he likely had a kid out there somewhere and if he “always wanted to be a dad” or cared as much as he claimed, he really should have been on that. But he was only concerned with dodging the child support payments, and now he thinks his only child is dead because of him.

So does he at the very least clear her name, accept whatever punishment the people see fit for his crimes, hold a funeral for Elphaba, or perhaps try to finish what she started by beginning to make right or undo the horrible crimes that he committed?

Nah. He’s just like “welp. The jig is up, time to skedaddle” and sadly gets in his hot air balloon and regretfully lets the breeze blow him away.

Like, no. He should not get away that easy. I want his stupid balloon to crash in the middle of a field where Elphaba and Fiyero find him crying over her green bottle and are like:

“Let me get this straight. You’re swept away to a magic land. Your first move is getting with random women and giving them mysterious magic green liquids before you con your way into taking over the land and silencing all the animals by making them literal scapegoats. Then, you’re looking for someone to help you keep up your charade, and a person whose age + 9 months is equal to the amount of time that’s passed since you got with those random women and gave them green elixirs shows up, a green person, the only green person in this entire realm, who is insanely powerful in a way no one can explain, and it never, never, occurs to you to check whether or not this is your child!???”

The Wizard (through pathetic tears as he lovingly strokes the green bottle): “I said I was a sentimental man. Never said I was a smart one. Someone green’s age + 9 months = time since I last saw a pretty woman and gave her a mysterious green beverage is very, very hard math.”

Fiyero: “Are you sure you’re not the one without a brain?”

[bunnysdollette]

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁ start acting your age and not your shoe size love 👟✨

⟢ hey my wonderful angels! here are a few tips to start building maturity and stop doing little girl activities. this is your wake up call. the faster you realize this, the better

(also love this photo of brina)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ GET SERIOUS ABOUT YOUR GOALS

in this life I would say there’s about a 5% of people that actually become successful and fulfilled. which one do you want to be; the person who is happy and living comfortably years from now or the person that chose to follow what everyone else was doing like a sheep and ignored what they wanted to accomplish?

NO goal is too difficult. NO dream is too big. Muhammad Ali once said, ``If your dreams don't scare you, they aren't big enough.'' So get serious about what you want in life or be left behind in the dust.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ STRIVE TO BE AN INDIVIDUAL

It’s OKAY to be different. Our differences are what make us unique and capable of what the next person can’t. Your strengths and your weaknesses will both push you forward in life if you learn how to use them properly.

You have to strive to take pride in your differences and be confident when people challenge your identity. Because at the end of the day the only person that knows YOU best is YOU. When you develop that confidence and self-assured mindset that nobody can tell you who you are because you already do, NOBODY can take that away from you.

Stop following the rest of the flock. If there’s something you dream about or want to accomplish that’s outside of the norm, that’s where your purpose probably lies. If you are a person different from the collective, you are meant for bigger things.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LEARN WHEN AND HOW YOU SHOULD RESPOND

there’s a time and place for everything. I’m not saying you shouldn’t respond to disrespect, because that makes it like other people can do the same to you and you won’t do anything, but depending on the severity of the situation, sometimes it’s just better to ignore that shit.

if there are people you know who are partaking in these little kid activities like making up silly lies about you, trying to get you to fight them or argue with them, DO NOT feed into that.

They will call you scared, stupid, or whatever else, but that’s all because they’re mad they can’t get that reaction out of you. If someone is trying to take you off of your path, the last thing you should do is spend even an ounce of energy on them.

Your energy is sacred. Use it wisely.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ STAY FOCUSED ON WHAT MATTERS

one of my favorite quotes ever is “it is what it is”. Whoever came up with that quote was extremely wise because it’s the exact embodiment of staying focused and not worrying about little kid shit that nobody will remember in the next five years.

What is Important to you? Drama, trying to conform, chasing things that aren’t meant for you, or reaching your goals, achieving success, and achieving fulfillment?

YOUR values should dictate YOUR life. You can’t say you want to become “that girl” and “level up your life” then turn around and invest so much energy in unnecessary shit that serves you no purpose.

And don’t think I’m saying this with any level of elitism or like I’m better because I’m saying this, I’m not. We all have shit to work on. But some of you have a lot more work to do than others and a lot more work to do to stay on the right path. This is your sign. Stop that nonsense

[embersofnovember]

I LOVE YOU,

DON'T ACT SO SURPRISED.

remy lebeau x gn!reader

summary: you’ve only been a member of the xmen for a little over two months, yet remy’s already made it feel like a week.

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, remy’s a bully, justice for kurt!!, a lotttt of kissing, affectionate themes in general, no angst (for once?), a horrendous attempt at remy’s accent, idk what else

wc: 1312

notes: ignore how i died for a month or two but anyways i watched manchester by the sea the other day and i’m still wrecked

living in the x mansion is something you never imagined for yourself in the future, but never find yourself regretting. hidden away in the greenery, tucked away nicely, mutants roaming freely without the worry of being seen differently on their conscience. almost hidden in plain sight.

in a sense, it’s a better home than anyone else has ever had.

you’ve been living there for almost two months. it was hard to get used to at first, especially since you thought you were the only one—but, seeing everyone so calm, so happy and carefree certainly did make your heart soak itself in warmth. everyone greeted each other open arms.

mutants are normal. not everyone could read minds, or teleport, or move things with their mind, but some could, and you feel as though you’ve finally found a place that wants you.

there’s basketball matches on the court every other day. you and storm bake together. scott keeps a secret stash of liquor in his room, away from the kids and out of reach from logan, who will tear the place down in search for it if he ever found out there was any in the four walls you all call home. occasional movie nights, and you all took turns cooking dinner.

and some nights, when remy would come home from a mission, and would be a little too tired to walk to his room which was a little too far, you find him in your bed, with his head in your lap and your fingers tangled in his hair.

remy doesn’t have much shame.

it’s sweet little gestures the two of you indulge each other in. a slow process that happens more and more frequently as the days pass. things like fixing each other’s hair, catching each other’s stares from across a crowded room. he lets you win in every card game (kurt hates it—favouritism!). you let him sleep in your bed with the innocent price of either of you soothing the other. you take turns. whoever needs it more, or sometimes you just let each other tangle your legs and arms, and simply whisper to each other like you’re exchanging secrets.

you could get used to this. it’s a nice life, a life with a stark difference to the one you harboured mere months ago. sure, there were times, and you had your moments, but you were getting better.

you could get used to this. a life of domesticity that you couldn’t imagine before. october settles, similar to the cold in your skin, but you aren't thinking about that.

“oh, no,” remy tuts, shaking his head with a disapproving click of his tongue. he points metal tongs at kurt’s confused figure, and clicks them together twice. to this, kurt’s eyes widen. he isn’t even two steps into the kitchen.

“banned from de kitchen, oui? away, mon ami.”

you, however, had already gotten used to this.

“i didn’t even do anything!” kurt shouts defensively, german accent thick with frustration. remy near cuts him off with a groan, incessantly and impatiently clicking away with the tongs in kurt’s direction as he walks past.

“me an’ de lovely lady are busy,” he says. his eyes pivot over to you, sitting on the counter with your legs dangling over the edge, busying yourself with stirring the sauce in the pot remy had forgotten about.

“all i would like is a drink,” kurt remarks, more under his breath than to both you or remy. his tail sags behind him as he walks, bush of hair covering the better part of his eyes as he walks past you, giving a quiet nod and that small smile.

already used to the antics between the two best friends, you learnt it was better than to interfere a long time ago.

before kurt extends out a hand to open the fridge, remy’s already shoving him into a headlock and affectionately scratching kurt’s scalp. as dramatic as kurt is, and as if this isn’t a common occurrence for him, he still yelps. he sounds distressed every time it happens, and each time you can’t help but laugh.

remy, of course, is all grins and dimples. when he lets go of the poor guy, he doesn’t stop. “thought you knew better than to come into de kitchen when i’m cooking, mm?”

“no,” kurt muttered in exasperation. a sour look adorns his features as he turns his back and opens the fridge (without interruption, this time), though you can’t hold the conscious thought that maybe kurt really had thought he’d been safe for a second. his accent gets thicker when he’s flustered. “nein, too many people love here for you to be hogging the kitchen!”

the look that remy sent kurt had a giggle bubbling from the back of your throat. then, his attention is on you. remy’s eyes snap from kurt’s to yours, raising a teasing eyebrow.

“you find dis funny, chére?”

uh oh.

your smile, mere a twitch of the corners of your mouth, disappears completely. expecting the similar fate kurt had been given, you scramble for an excuse.

“no, why would i? that’s—“

kurt slips away with a canned beverage before the other can notice. remy advances towards you with his signature pair of tongs, clicking them together with a taunt and a raised eyebrow. there’s the click shut of the fridge, the sizzle of frying fat and remy’s dreamy, dopey grin.

your fate is already sealed. letting out a sigh in resignational defeat, you think just maybe kurt had been spared.

“—that’s stupid.”

“is it now?”

“mm,” your hum, coupled with a few encouraging nods and a smile you slowly can no longer hide, remy’s in front of you before you can blink. a tender hand is brushing a stray hair out of your eyes.

the truth is, remy has never been so badly whipped for anyone in his entire life. he loves you with all of his heart. in the way that his nose accidentally brushes against yours, in the way you enjoyed playing with his hair, in the way he kisses the different expanses of your face repeatedly until he breaks a grin out of you.

like right now.

“rem, you’re cooking,” you remind him, attempting to hold a sense of firmness in your tone as he places a series of kisses along the tip of your nose to the bridge. you were xmen: you were supposed to be responsible.

remy is anything if not responsible.

“i ain’t gon’ burn the house down,” he chides between a kiss on your cheek, tone gravelly and thick with his cajun accent. “you ever known gambit to burn his precious meals?”

“well, what about the other day when—“

he cuts you off with a kiss on your lips. it’s a brusque action, but it’s one you’ve adapted to, one that no longer surprises you, and one you reciprocate with minimal ease. you laugh once, and he pulls away. then, he goes in again and you playfully slap his chest.

“remy!”

he lets out a groan of faux annoyance, landing one final peck on your forehead before he reluctantly steps away to go back to his place at the stove, where he’s fiddling with his beignets with a now concentrated brow.

he is always there. an enigma in the pearls of his teeth, a rose in a bush of thorns.

“‘m just saying, chére,” he starts, eyes narrowing with concentration. then a groan when he flips the pastry to find they’re more golden and caramelised than he would like to admit.

“that i’m right?” you tilt your head, hands balanced on the edge of the counter as your legs swinging mindlessly. to say you felt a little smug is more true than otherwise.

if you were anyone else, remy would’ve turned around and glared at you. instead, he just laughs.

“touché, chérie.”

masterlist!!

[robinsegghead]

Danny's Daycare Part 18

Masterlist

“What the fuck was that?” Jason hissed the second Danny was out of earshot, looking around the table at everyone who’d questioned Danny after his obvious flashback. A few minutes after dessert had arrived Danny excused himself to find the bathroom which Alfred offered to show him too and Jason took the opportunity to thoroughly reprimand his family.

Duke nodded in agreement. “You guys need to chill out. I know we all want answers but cornering and interrogating him isn’t going to get the answers.”

“That was a flashback, right?” Tim looked to Jason for answers which made him feel like shit cause, yeah it was a flashback but why did Tim seem convinced Jason would know much more than they did? He’d never seen Danny like that before.

Bruce had the decency to look abashed. “He’s clearly hiding something, Jaylad-”

“So are we!” Jason hissed venomously. Dick startled at Jason’s tone but he didn’t care. “We all have secrets that’s all this fucking family is! Just because someone else has secrets does not mean you get to know them all! Besides, he doesn’t know ours so he’s not likely to tell us anything of value!”

“Scared.” Cass said, shutting everyone up to look at her. She frowned. “Don’t bring up parents.”

Jason nodded. “Yes- thank you Cass. As a family of people with crazy and traumatic relationships with our parents- do you think we could have a bit more- I don’t know- TACT?” When his family nodded, sheepishly, he sighed. “Let’s hope you didn’t scare off the only friends Demon Brat has outside of Jon.”

A few minutes of uncomfortable silence and glaring later Danny returned and retook his seat.

“I’ve gotta say, your house puts the mansions I’m used to shame.” He chuckled, taking a sip of water. “Like, I cannot wait to rub in the Mansons faces that their house is practically rundown in comparison.”

Bruce smiled back, one of those fake smiles that no one but his family seemed to be able to see through. Jason was pretty sure Danny had seen through it from the start. “You know the Mansons?”

“Yeah, their daughter is one of my closest friends. They hate me.” He tacked the last part on with a mischievous grin that earned a laugh out of Steph and Jason. 

Things weren’t so bad from there. Danny told some story about his best friend’s parents and how they hated him and did their damn best to break him and their daughter up when they’d dated only for her to end up dating their other best friend who her parents hate just as much as him. It was nice and Jason noticed Danny untensing as the story went on and nobody tried to interrogate him again.

Good.

Dick jumped in and started telling his own story- something about Wally probably- while Jason zoned out. Last night he’d gone to the cave to tell B everything Phantom had told him about the GIW, ectoplasm, and the Anti-Ecto-Acts, and, like Jason’d predicted, he was pissed. Most of the family were off doing their own things, on their own cases, out of town, etc. so he, Damian, Bruce, and Babs had spent the night researching.

When Jason finally admitted what Phantom had said about Danny (omitting any information Danny had given Red Hood in confidence), Damian had immediately suggested inviting him and his kids over for dinner to see what they could learn. Jason had protested but Bruce liked the idea, and once Bruce was set on something, nothing would stop him.

So Jason had agreed to come over as well, also omitting the part where he- as Jason- was acquainted with Danny and the boys. Thinking back on their three interactions so far Jason wasn’t sure ‘acquainted’ was a strong enough word for them. He didn’t think they were best friends or anything, but you don’t just call someone sweetheart and flirt as suggestively as Danny had and then call them an acquaintance.

Hopefully.

God, Jason, snap the fuck out of it. He’s GOT a boyfriend.

Then why was he flirting with you?

An uproarious laugh took him by surprise and brought him back to the scene in front of him. Danny was cracking up at something Tim had said, a smug look on Tim’s face confirmed Jason’s guess, and everyone else at the table was laughing along. Jason smiled, watching as Danny wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and admiring how pretty his laugh was and how good he looked in a cardigan and how -

Stop.

Nope. Stop it.

Straightening up, Jason tried to reintegrate into the conversation. 

“I’m glad I’m not the only person who's friends with some crazy theorist who thinks he’s got all the answers!” Danny finally managed to curb his laughter. 

Tim nodded with a smile. “Bernard once told me he thought Lex Luthor was secretly Batman because ‘the butts match’.”

Danny snorted. “Wes works at the Daily Planet and he’s convinced the guy who always writes about Superman- Clark… something- is Superman! Worse- he’s pretty sure Superboy isn’t his son, but his clone!”

The forced laughter around the table was, hopefully, only obvious to the family. Danny didn’t seem to realize the sharp look Bruce gave Cass, then Jason, then Danny, trying to analyze the situation and figure out if he needed to do some kind of damage control. He came to the same conclusion all of them had already come to though and that was- Danny really thought Wes was wrong.

They were saved from the awkward interaction when Santi ran into the room shouting.

“Danny Danny! You have to come see Damian’s cow! And he has a turkey! You’ve gotta come see ‘em! You ever seen a cow in real life before, Danny?” 

Being dragged out of his seat and shooting an apologetic look towards the table, Danny followed Santi out of the room. “You know I’m from the middle of nowhere Illinois, right? I’ve seen cows before…”

Once again out of earshot, Bruce started talking. “I want everything you can find on this Wes who works at the Daily Planet.” Tim nodded, already typing something on his phone. “Jason why don’t you go with them, keep an eye on Danny and the boys.”

“And you’ll be..?” Jason asked accusatorially.

Raising his hands in surrender, Bruce sighed. “We’ll be around, I don’t want to… overwhelm him again.”

“You mean send him into a flashback about his traumatic childhood?” Jason scoffed.

“You never mentioned he had a traumatic childhood.” Bruce pointed out.

Shrugging, Jason stood to escape the conversation. “There’s a lot about Danny I haven’t told you, but I think we can all agree the way he reacted to being asked about his parents and hometown wasn’t the reaction of someone with fond memories.”

He could hear his family trying to excuse themselves from what had happened as he left. At least they hadn’t ALL bombarded him. Duke had been pretty quiet at dinner, Cass obviously hadn’t said much, happier to observe and analyze, and Tim had mostly talked to him about Kon and Bernard.

Danny had seemed rather interested in Tim and his boyfriends which threw him for a loop. Jason would never claim to be a detective. He wasn’t like Bruce and Tim, hell he wasn’t even as good as Damian, Dick, or Steph when it came to detective shit, but he wasn’t a complete idiot! Except Danny’s interest in Tim’s relationship really had confused him. He’d asked how Tim’s boyfriends were, what they did, how they’d all met, how they got together, and while Jason had put together that Danny and Tim somehow already knew each other, he couldn’t figure out what Danny’s fascination with Tim’s boyfriends was.

Catching up to Danny and Santiago didn’t take long. He found them outside, still on their way to the barn where he assumed Miguel and Damian were, and jogged up beside them.

“Hey guys, checkin’ out the barn?”

Santi smiled. “I’m showin’ Danny Batcow!”

“Batcow?” Danny asked, furrowing his brow in a way that made Jason want to hold his face and smooth away his confusion-

“Batcow!” Santi agreed, hurrying inside the barn with Danny in tow.

Damian and Miguel seemed to be deep in conversation, both crouched down and petting Alfred. Santi led Danny and Jason past the boys and towards the cow. Jason hadn’t ever really seen Batcow. He’d heard the story of how they’d gotten her and ended up keeping her and it was often brought up when Damian asked for a new pet or animal of some kind as a way for Bruce to say ‘you already have a cow, what more could you want?’ but he was never actually around the manor this much.

It was an odd feeling.

To know that his family had large parts of their lives he never witnessed because he was rarely around them as civilians. He heard bits and pieces, Dick taught acrobatics, Cass taught ballet, Damian had a cow, Duke got a job, Steph and Tim were going to GU, but he didn’t know the details. Why would he? Why would he care?

 What age group did Dick teach? Had Cass ever taken her ballerinas to a competition? Did they win? How many animals did Damian really have? Why did Duke get a job at the daycare specifically? What classes was Steph taking? What was Tim’s major? 

Why did he care? He’d never cared before.

But looking at Batcow was like looking at a picture of his entire family that he’d been cropped out of. It left a bad taste in his mouth, to realize he was barely part of the family he’d been part of longer than almost anyone. Isn’t that what he’d wanted? To work alone? To distance himself from the bats and be his own person, neither hero nor villain? 

And yet… He’d been spending a bit more time at the manor recently. He’d been less angry and when the anger receded he saw it for what it really was; hurt, loneliness, insecurity. He didn’t like to think too much about it. He was the Red Hood, feared crime lord, murderer, monster- he was the monster in the closet parents warned their kids about. Who cared if he had no one to go home to? Why did it matter if he had to stitch up his own wounds? He was fine with lonely birthdays and even lonelier death days and he didn’t need them to check in on him he was fine-

“Jason?” A cold hand brushed against his jerking him right out of his downward spiral.

“Huh?” He asked, plastering on an unconcerned face.

Squinting, Danny grabbed his wrist. “Come on, Damian says you’ve never met Batcow.” He didn’t let go of Jason’s wrist until they stood right in front of the cows stall. Immediately, Jason missed the cool feeling of Danny’s hand against his skin. “It really does look like the Batman symbol.” Danny confirmed.

“Tt. I didn’t name her Batcow for nothing.” Damian cut in.

Miguel was eyeing Jason in a manner he thought was subtle. It was not. It made his skin itch. Why did Miguel hate him so much again? Something about flirting with his dad?

Leaning closer to Danny until their shoulders were touching, Jason hoped Miguel would stop staring at him like he’d killed his dad- well. He had. But Miguel didn’t know that- actually wait- did they know Hood had killed their dad? Danny told them, right? Was that why Miguel seemed to like him so much?

“You’re doing it again.” Danny muttered only loud enough for him to hear.

Snapping out of it, Jason looked over to see everyone else had left. “Where-”

“Damian mentioned his dog Titus and I convinced the boys to go play with him. You okay?”

Jason nodded. “Uh, yeah, sorry. I- I don’t usually spend this much time around the manor. Brought up some feelings I wasn’t… prepared for.”

Danny nodded in understanding. “I know what that’s like.”

“Yeah?”

Biting his bottom lip, Danny seemed to debate his next words carefully. “A lot of people contacted me after the attack. Some people I… don’t want to talk to anymore.”

Jason let the silence hang over them for a moment. “Your parents?” Danny shook his head, watching Batcow instead of looking at him. “Good.”

“Yeah. Anyway, I know what it’s like to be… reminded of things you don’t want to think about or… of who you used to be.” 

Swallowing, Jason decided to take the plunge. “When I… died…” Danny tensed. “Things changed. I changed. And I can’t stand being reminded of that. That I was… a better person- a better son- before. Sometimes I… I wonder what it’d be like if I’d stayed the optimistic kid I’d been but… death…” He trailed off, feeling himself getting choked up.

“It changes you.” Danny nodded solemnly. “And no one understands. Even the people who don’t care that you’re different, the people who love you, they don't get it.” He whispered.

Jason nodded.

They stood there, looking at Batcow, shoulders pressed against each other but not daring to move closer, silent, for minutes. Jason tried not to think about how Danny having died meant he could probably understand what Jason had gone through- he couldn’t burden Danny with his fucked up feelings on the matter anymore.

But Danny didn’t seem to share those feelings.

Thank god.

“I understand.” He breathed, finally looking away from the cow they’d been staring at for way too long. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to but… But I understand. I know what it’s like for everyone to look at you differently, like you’re broken, or volatile, or a time bomb waiting to go off, and I know what it’s like for them to want the person who died back and I know that you’re still that same optimistic kid deep down but it’s also impossible to be him anymore and I know that because I’m the same.”

Jason let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding (he had no idea when it started but he’d been able to hold his breath for a really long time recently and sometimes he wondered if he even needed to breathe) and met Danny’s eyes.

“You’re the same person as before but you’re also not and no one understands because that doesn’t make any sense but it does, Jason.” It was at the moment Danny said his name that he realized how close they were. “And it’s fine if you have complicated feelings about your childhood home or your family or anything else because it IS complicated. You don’t have to apologize to me for spacing out or needing space or not knowing what’s wrong because I do that all too.”

Fuck.

He couldn’t breathe. (He wasn’t sure he needed to) When was the last time someone had said something so… tender to him? When was the last time someone had looked him in the eyes for this long? His family usually looked away when they sensed his feelings getting too big, when they saw a hint of green, when they couldn’t take looking at the scarred remnants of the child they’d loved anymore.

Danny kept staring.

Danny held his gaze.

“I… sorry-” Jason’s voice stopped working. He looked down, unable to stare directly into the sun any longer, his eyes burning. 

Cool hands hesitantly grabbed his and squeezed. “You have nothing to apologize for, Jason.”

“This is dumb.” Jason scoffed, pulling one hand away to swipe the tears off his face before Danny could see them. “It happened so long ago.”

Danny shrugged. “I died nine years ago and it still bothers me.”

Jason’s head whips up so fast he almost headbutts Danny. “That’s- that’s so-”

“Young?” Danny guesses with a sad smile. “Yeah, but it is what it is. Besides, sounds like you were pretty young too.”

“Fifteen.” Jason admits.

“Fourteen.” Danny adds. “But it doesn’t matter if you were fifteen, twenty five, fifty five, that shit stays with you. Whether it was for a few seconds, minutes, or much longer, death holds on. It changes you and no one can understand it if they haven’t been through it too. They just can’t.”

The situation felt ridiculous. Jason and Danny, who’d only met a few times (in his civvies anyways), holding hands in his adoptive dads barn, staring at his little brother's cow, crying about their teenage deaths. It was too much. Jason let out a pitiful laugh. “This is the dumbest place to have this conversation.”

Danny smirked. “Well I think it’s fine, but if you want to continue this conversation sometime over, say, dinner, I’d be more than happy to do that.” Jason stared- was that? Was he asking Jason on a- “I mean, I do think you mentioned getting dinner before and I’d certainly like the chance to get to know you better.”

“Are you-”

“Asking you on a date? Yes.” 

Oh. Holy fuck. Either Danny and Phantom were in some kind of open relationship or he’d read the situation very wrong. Either way he didn’t care. “Yes. I’d like that.”

“Yessss!” Someone hissed from the other side of the barn.

Peaking over Danny’s shoulder, Jason spotted Santi crouched behind a stack of hay. Danny also turned around, letting go of Jason’s hands (he tried not to think about how disappointed that made him), and put his hands on his hips (also tried not to think about that or how good his hips would feel in his hands-). “Santi?” Danny said with the patience of a saint.

“Uh… noooo?” Santiago responded.

Danny sighed loudly. “Santi, I thought you were going to play with Damian’s dog?”

The boy, realizing he’d been caught, stepped out shyly. “I was but I- uh, I wanted to see Batcow again?”

“Nice try, kid.” Danny deadpanned. “Come on, let’s go find your brother. I don’t want to leave you alone and I think I’ve been a terrible guest.”

Jason tilted his head. “How so?”

With a smirk, Danny crossed his arms. “Well it was rude to leave mid-interrogation. I’m sure there are many more questions your family would like answered before I leave, wouldn’t you agree?” Then he walked away with Santi, and Jason had only one thought.

Fuck.

He’s in love with that twink.

~~~~~~~

By the time Danny and Jason had made it back inside the house, Danny had calmed down and prepared himself for more insensitive questions. He wasn’t exactly angry about the questioning, he kind of found it hilarious, but he wasn’t sure how to explain the whole ‘dead ghost king who’d been vivisected by his parents’ thing so he just didn’t explain anything.

He and Jason came back to what seemed to be a mario kart tournament that Tim, Dick, Steph, and Duke were all competing in. Cass watched from the sidelines, she’d apparently been banned from playing in the tournaments because she always won. They offered Danny a slot but he was happier to watch than to play.

At that point they’d been there for a couple of hours and he was starting to get tired. Life had been crazy recently and even though you’d think getting some actual sleep recently would mean he wasn’t tired all of the time, it had the opposite effect. Like his body had realized how it was supposed to feel after getting a full night’s rest and had started a revolt in protest of the last two months of power naps.

Santi, Miguel, and Damian had gone to Damian’s room to hang out (although Danny couldn’t shake the feeling that Damian was keeping the boys occupied so that the rest of his family could get Danny alone for questioning) after it had gotten too dark to continue playing with Titus outside.

When the tournament finally wrapped up it was almost nine and Danny decided that was long enough for their first time coming over. He sent a text to Miguel to finish up and meet him in the Foyer in the next ten minutes so they could head home.

“Aww, come on Danny, just one match!” Steph whined.

He chuckled. “I don’t need to be demolished in mario kart tonight, thank you very much.” He was actually fairly certain he’d give most of them a run for their money, but he didn’t want to issue a challenge and get caught up in the game. “Next time.” He said without thinking.

“Ha! You owe me fifty bucks!” Dick shouted at Tim.

Tim grumbled, reaching for his pocket. “Come on man, couldn’t have hated my ridiculous family like a normal person?”

“What just happened?” Danny asked, looking between Jason and Cass. Jason shrugged, Cass gave them a knowing smile, and Danny remained in the dark. “All right, well. It was nice to meet you, Steph, Cass, and nice to re-meet everyone else. Duke- no work next week, seriously- take the week off.” He waved to everyone, following Jason to the foyer.

The boys were already there when he arrived and Damian said something about how they were already on their way downstairs when Miguel received his message. Before they could say their goodbyes, a pair of footsteps was rushing towards them. Tim turned the corner, almost slamming into Danny before stopping himself.

“Where’s the fire, Timbers?” Jason raised an eyebrow.

Tim rolled his eyes. “Kon just told me he was on his way with Ma’s pie.”

“I will accept that excuse for the small small price of one piece of pie.” Jason grinned.

“No way! Ma’s pie is like liquid gold- no way I’m giving you any of it!” Tim retorted just as the door opened.

A man, probably about Danny’s age, wearing a leather jacket and sunglasses (it was night?) walked in holding what appeared to be a pie. “Hey guys- I brought-” He cut himself off, immediately freezing and dropping the pie. Tim and Jason shouted as the so-called liquid gold crashed into the ground, pie pan shattering and red liquid seeping onto the floor. Must have been cherry. 

That wasn’t what startled Danny. What startled Danny was the way that Kon stared at him, like he was seeing more than what Danny showed on the surface. Like he was peering past the barriers and barbed wire disguised as jokes and seeing something he shouldn’t.

“Sorry!” Kon squeaked, ripping his eyes away from Danny and kneeling to pick up the ruined pie. Danny heard the quiet ‘what the fuck is wrong with his heart’ whispered under Kon’s breath and immediately felt his pulse quicken. Kon froze again and Danny decided to try something. Something he didn’t do often but his body did on its own whenever it felt like it.

Or rather- whenever his body didn’t feel like it. He stopped his heart.

“Oh my god are you okay!?” Kon shot up, grabbing Danny’s shoulders and looking him over.

Pulling away, slightly startled by Kon’s intensity, Danny’s theory was confirmed. Kon had super hearing. He must have been startled by Danny’s slow heartbeat and panicked. Then he realized Danny was fine and tried to cover it up. Danny stopping his heartbeat would scare anyone with super hearing- it had scared him a few times until he’d gotten used to the on and off heartbeat.

“Kon?” Tim asked, placing a firm hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “You okay?”

The man nodded slowly, hearing Danny’s heartbeat return. “Uh- yeah, I’m- I’m good. Sorry, I- I’ll clean this all up, just… gonna use the bathroom first.” And then he was gone, faster than Danny thought was completely human but, well, he’d kind of already confirmed Kon was a meta.

The foyer was completely silent at that point, confusion laced through the room and Danny decided the best course of action was to shrug it off. “Well that was strange- Tim, your boyfriend is odd, but seems nice. Sorry about your pie guys.”

“Uh- I’m just- I’m going to check on him. Nice seeing you again, Danny!” Tim rushed off, leaving the destroyed pie behind.

“That was weird as fuck.” Miguel muttered.

“Language.” Danny said. Really, he didn’t care if the boys swore, but maybe not in the fucking Wayne’s manor? “We’ve got to get going, but thank you for inviting us over, Damian, it was nice to see you again.” Turning to Jason he smirked and spoke so no one else could hear him. “I’ll text you, doll.”

His smirk grew wider as Jason’s face grew pink and felt victory settle in his bones. Despite some of the weirdness, it was a really nice night. At least he’d gotten a date with Jason out of all the interrogating.

~~~~~~

“Kon what the fuck was that?” Tim demanded, barging into his bedroom where Kon had chosen to hide out until Danny left.

Kon turned to face Tim slowly. “He- god Tim he’s covered in scars he-” The man ran a hand through his hair and met Tim’s eyes. “He had an autopsy scar like Jason.”

Tim had noticed Danny’s scars before. He had one on his hand the looked like the beginning of a Lichtenberg scar which didn’t make any sense because those were supposed to fade after a few days, he had another on the back of his neck which he seemed to try and hide with hoodies and collared shirts, his fingers on his right hand had varying degrees of scarring like a ring around each one, but he’d obviously never seen more than that.

An autopsy scar was… well it was another clue, somehow. He didn’t know how Danny dying and having an autopsy and coming back to life like Jason had connected to anything else but it had to be why Danny and Phantom- King of Ghosts- had some kind of connection. Was- Was Phantom the ‘friend’ who’d asked Danny to come to Gotham in the first place?

“That’s not all- I mean, that’s why I dropped the pie but- Tim his heart stopped.”

“What?!” Tim hissed, jerking out of his thoughts. “What do you mean-”

“His heartbeat was really slow, it was concerning but then it just- it just STOPPED. Altogether. And then it started again after I’d already freaked out on him.”

What the fuck did that mean? “I have to talk to B- what the fuck, Danny?”

Prev. Next

[thatnonameuser]

Now that I analyse more of your story, I just noticed that Lilia is very interested in Yuu and tells them that he wants to talk to them more or something like that.

I think he says that because he is aware he has little time to see his children get a partner and get married, so what a perfect opportunity is to have a Darling in an all yandere boy school by pure coincidence. It's like a miracle to him! So he would do anything (like matchmaking) to see one of his children being happy with Yuu no matter the cost. (Even If has to use dirty tricks to have Yuu being with one of the Diasomnia trio)

This is just a theory, a fan theory! 🤓☝️

Your theory is partially right.

Lilia isn’t really that interested in you, he’s not really bothered knowing you’re a darling.

Look, he’s been around this block a thousand times. During his travels spanning over centuries, he’s seen and met countless yanderes and darlings who’ve all acted differently. He practically has a nose for it at this point. So when he popped up in front of you, he had a bit of an inkling you weren’t like your peers, or him. 

But at first he doesn’t pay any mind. Whether you’re a darling or not, it’s not really something to take into consideration. Either you’ll find your way home, or you’ll be taken in by someone else, not really his problem.

That is until he discovers that his boys have feelings for you. 

When Malleus comes back from his nightly walks talking about you with a lovesick smile on his face. When Silver comes to him about seeing you in his dreams with a dreamy look in his eyes, (I’ll get into that later). When Sebek comes back to Diasomnia totally not ranting about a very obvious crush he has on you buried under how bothersome it is to deal with you. He’s not blind to the signs of them falling for you.

And that’s when he gets interested in you. 

Because in all honesty, he’s old. It's about time he makes the evolution to grandfather. (And since Baul isn’t here to guide his very….. very stubborn and tone deaf grandson, he’ll do it for him. But seriously, this stubbornness to love is genetic at this point, Lilia should know he made a joke about about it in his best man speech at his wedding) But Lilia wants to see them get married, to see them worry about becoming parents, to watch them cry from happiness at seeing their first child be born. He wants to spoil his grandkids when they come to visit. He wants to regale them with his war stories and embarrass their parents as when he tells them about his sons’ childhoods. Wants to spoil them rotten and take them away when his parents need Insert winkie face😉 Alone time. And more and more. Is that too much to ask? He doesn’t think so.

But he might not be able to do that. 

He’s old, he knows he’s old. He’s not going to be around forever. So he needs to make sure that he lives long enough to see that.

Meaning like a nosy parent trying to set up his kid, he’s gonna get involved. And not in the way you might like.

He’s not going to be mean about it. He’ll give them pointers, little gift ideas, tips to keep other yanderes away from you, etc. 

But when he learns that not only are you planning to get out of TWST the second the opportunity presents itself, but you callously, in his opinion, reject every attempt his boys make to woo you the nice way (the non yandere way). Well, then you forced his hand, he didn’t want to do this but he has to because you decided to be difficult.

Enter the Lilia who is willing to use more…. Painful techniques to persuade you. 

In other words, he’s getting more involved. At this point you’ve hardened to the yandere world, so he knows that you won’t be able to convince you with words or promises of a better life, so now he has to be cruel. 

Don’t bother trying to convince him this is wrong, and that you should be allowed to return home. Keep in mind he’s grown up and old in this world, he agrees with how it works. And while Maleanor or Levan might disagree with his methods, he’s doing this for a greater good. 

Remember, you’re the reason he had to go this far. He’s not at fault here.

[thatmexisaurusrex]

Okay, but like looks at pitch notecards... pulls the Pepe Silvia board back out again because this is a goofy idea.

So, you're Kim.

The show that you thought would start your career falls apart within the first season. You're working retail. You've basically given up on your acting dreams. You got bangs because this man you were kind of dating said you looked exactly like his wife, so you decided to get the guy to do some cathartic roleplay with you. You accidentally help him blow up his entire life.

It's been a time for Kim.

Then.

You get a call from your agent.

That last show you were on? The showrunner has a semi-recently made show with a few seasons under its belt.

Hotshots.

They need a new firefighter for the show and the showrunner remembered Kim! Loved Kim! Wants Kim to pick up this guest role that has the potential of becoming a recurring character.

She decides, yeah. Fuck yeah. I can do this. This will be good for me.

She gets a contract for a few episodes.

She acts her heart out.

The show loves her so much that they expand her role; she's going to be there at least until the end of the season.

Everything's turning up Kim.

She even gets a love interest! A backstory! A career goal on the show!

Kim even reaches out to Marisol and apologizes for her behavior. And Marisol is cool with her now! They get coffee sometimes!

But

Then.

She finds out that the firefighter consultant is from the 118 originally, and that sounds familiar.

And when she tags along with Bobby to see a plane emergency in real life, well, isn't that Buck guy familiar too?

Wait.

Is that Eddie at the emergency?

That can't be right.

She tries to brush it off.

Until.

She has to shadow a firehouse to do character research. And she decides to shadow Bobby because Bobby's the best.

But then she notices that she's been to this fucking fire station before.

And then she notices that this is the fucking firehouse of her sort-of-not-ex, Eddie Diaz.

She has to spend the whole day with him. She gives Eddie a heart-to-heart about the not-relationship they had; about her own parenting struggles (because she does have a kid. The kid lives with her ex in Reno or something and she does regret not reaching out to that kid more often, not doing more). She helps Eddie figure out what he should do about his problems with Chris, which also helps her figure out her own problems with her own child.

And now she has to deal with the fact that her not-quite-ex gets the reward of playing a nurse on her TV show.

But.

Well.

At least she still has the dream job. And maybe, she'll reach out to that kid of hers and try to reconnect too.

And idk, I think this would have been more interesting than Brad.

[mavspeed]

something that really pisses me off is this headcanon that ice would have been or was against mav pulling bradley’s papers for the academy.

like i’m sorry but I need some of you to think for a second. this is a man whose jet wash indirectly also led to the accident that resulted in goose’s death and probably carried that guilt for half his life too. this is also the man who was there to watch mav and carole grieve for the brother/husband they lost for YEARS. not to mention he was close to goose as well since they were both at the academy. like he would have wanted to protect bradley just as much as mav did when he made the decision to pull the papers. it’s a dumb moment for both of them but again. 100% they would have both thought they were doing the right thing for bradley.