#and its not cheesy at all and i love that

[mia-can-yap-too]

synopsis:- you ask the blue lock boys for a girls' night

warnings:- none

featuring:- isagi yoichi, rin itoshi, micheal kaiser, bachira meguru, sae itoshi

Isagi Yoichi

☆ he doesn't fight the vibes. or question why you called it a girls night even if it was just the two of you

☆ if it makes you happy, then he's all in

☆ he's a bit awkward at first, but once you guide him through putting on a face mask and letting him lean his head on your shoulder during Mean Girls, he melts completely

☆ if you ask him to paint your nails he will concentrate so hard. it'll take longer than you expect. by the time he's done, every limb of yours will be numb

☆ during the movie, he'll put a blanket over the two of you and cuddle while holding hands the whole time

☆ by the end of the night he's admitting he had fun and not-so-nonchalantly asks when you're doing this again

Rin Itoshi

☆ when you tell him you're having a girls night, he makes sure you know he's not doing anything weird

☆ but then you pull out a clay mask and beg to apply it on his face, and after a dramatic 5 second stare-off… he lets you

☆ he sits stiffly at first but slowly leans into your touch

☆ its quiet, kind of sacred

☆ you put on a movie and he'll watch it quietly

☆ he'll offer occasional commentary like “She's obviously lying. That guy's an idiot.”

☆ At some point you lean into him and rest your head on his chest

☆ he doesn't say anything

☆ doesn't even breathe for a minute

☆ then he just wraps his arm around you and plays with your fingers

☆ he won't be admitting he enjoyed it

Micheal Kaiser

☆ you ask him for a girls night and he acts like he wasn't waiting for this

☆ “Oh? Finally, someone's throwing a night worthy of me.”

☆ he shows up over-prepared

☆ silk robe, face masks imported from korea, snacks so expensive you're afraid to touch them

☆ he doesn't understand the concept of casual

☆ five minutes in he's lying on your bed, he's got his hair in a headband, a cucumber slice on one eye (he ate the other one) and he's critiquing your romcoms like some film major on tumblr

☆ “He's emotionally unavailable and she's settling. Next.”

☆ “If that were me, I'd have proposed in Act I.”

☆ lets you paint his nails gold but also half heartedly insults your technique

☆ deep down, he loves being pampered

☆ ends the night with a bunch of forehead kisses and love

Bachira Meguru

☆ you say girls night and he immediately perks up

☆ “Does that mean we're doing face masks and dancing in matching pajamas? Count me in!”

☆ he shows up to your room with a bucket hat, snacks and some glitter gel he found at a random shop

☆ he lays his head on your lap and lets you do his whole skincare routine, grinning the whole time

☆ “I'm glowing already! I feel so refreshed!” “I haven't even started, Meguru…”

☆ you put on a rom com and he acts out the characters dramatically, quoting cheesy lines and looking at you like, “Would you love me if I was a rock with violent diarrhea?”

☆ eventually he quiets down, and cuddles against you under the blankets

☆ “I like it when it's just us. Makes me feel warm.”

Sae Itoshi

☆ you don't ask, you just tell him over text

☆ says shit like “I'm not a girl” and “I don't do nights” but gets there in 10 minutes

☆ he walks in and sees your set up — face masks, fluffy blankets, popcorn and a rom-com queued up— he sighs likes preparing for battle

☆ you're straddling his lap 30 seconds later, smoothing serum into his face as he closes his eyes and melts.

☆ he'd never say it, but your hands on him are the calmest he's felt all week

☆ lets you curl into him during the movie

☆ when you jokingly offer to paint his nails pink, he stares at you… then wordlessly offers his hand

☆ looks down at your work and gives a huff of approval

☆ “You better know you're the only one I'd let do this.”

a/n:- rawr

divider by @/strangergraphics, header by me

masterlist

[maybe-boys-do-love]

I wasn't obsessed with The Ex-Morning to start, but I trusted it would hit me eventually. You see, the thing I love about Lit Phadung as a director is that he never tries to be above the classic Thai BL aesthetics. The production hallmarks are all there: dialogue-heavy stories with generic comedic scoring and stable cameras theatrically focusing on people rather than any dynamic or poetic cinematography. He chooses works that bring broad, obvious characters to life for us. The work of his I've seen--the full SOTUS series, Love Mechanics, Love in Translation, and currently The Ex-Morning--is remarkably unpretentious, always skirting the line of cheesy. This all sounds hardly complimentary. And yet. And yet!

A few episodes in, his series begin to unobtrusively swell like a tide moving in with the density of the characters and thematic subtext. Episode 6 in SOTUS S inspired me to research and write a whole 20 page essay on the 4 Act structure. Episode 3's where The Ex-Morning hooked me. An example of a master at work in episode 3, we get the shipping-moment where Tam grabs Phi's hand, a perfect example of how Lit layers quiet symbols amongst the cheese of romance. The narrative set-up here gives us classic BL. Blatant skinship edited and closely framed to make it impossible to miss or misread its romantic implication. We even have a fujoshi observer to remind us the gaze we're meant to use.

fighting certain urges about the hair on Singto's hands

But P'Lit and screenwriter Aof--who I've argued appears to have adapted these techniques from P'Lit's work on SOTUS--layer this shot with other visual information. In zooming to the hands, the ring, the mala bracelet, and the act of writing get secretly highlighted amongst the yaoi content. The show has not pushed us hard to think about their meaning yet, but there's been a subtle focus on jewelry and accessorizing already and the Buddhist themes have been an emerging question, too. It's just one of many examples in the series where the questions of materialism, emotional attachments, authorship, and queer embellishments arise without hammering the audience over the head with it.

And then on top of these visual strategies, Lit consistently draws out overwhelming performances from his actors that imbue what might otherwise be camp with a raw humanism, heightening the stories beyond run-of-the-mill romcom plots. With their flawed, conflicted characters and unflinching portrayals, they're tests of empathy.

It's no surprise he's launched the careers of several renowned pairs--Kristsingto, DaouOffroad, YinWar (not their first outing, but the one that elevated them past their peers). In a P'Lit world you get to play a full range of emotions, and he's not interested in requiring violence or high-concept plots to experience those feels. It's pure romcom, with the full breadth of its possibility, which is something I adore.

Lit's not an auteur by the traditional definition. His vision's not singular, his work not so marked by his idiosyncrasies to be easily chosen out of a lineup of his peers. I think it's better for that. He intricately crafts his works so that you don't have your attention drawn to its craft or intricacy, letting the story and characters, which at first might seem silly, take hold of your soul.

[mangaloversolar2000]

Fairy Tail: More Than Just "Cringe"—Why It Deserves More Love

Wanted to write this since I saw a bunch of people hating on fairy tail and then I found out they didn't even get past like chapter 5 lmao.

Fairy Tail is one of those manga that people either passionately love or loudly criticize. Over the years, it's been called "cringey," overly cheesy, and full of predictable power-ups. But here's the thing—those very qualities are what make Fairy Tail such a special series.

Sure, the story leans heavily on themes of friendship and unwavering bonds, sometimes to an exaggerated level. But isn't that part of the charm? Fairy Tail isn't trying to be a hyper-complex, morally grey epic. It's a celebration of the things that make shonen manga exciting: emotional battles, epic team-ups, and characters that genuinely care for one another. The fights may not always be strategic masterpieces, but they carry emotional weight that resonates with fans.

The world-building, from Magnolia to Tenrou Island, is rich and vibrant. The guild system creates a sense of community that makes readers feel like they're part of something bigger.

And the characters? Love them or hate them, there's no denying they have distinct personalities that make them memorable. Natsu’s fiery determination, Erza’s unshakable strength, Lucy’s growth from a hopeful newbie to a formidable wizard—all of it contributes to a heartfelt journey. Each major character has depth beyond their initial introductions, with clear motivations and evolving dynamics over time. And when it comes to romance, the series takes a refreshingly natural approach. Instead of forcing pairings for the sake of fan service, the ships in Fairy Tail feel earned. Relationships like Gajeel and Levy, Juvia and Gray, Jellal and Erza, or even Natsu and Lucy (while left ambiguous) develop organically through their shared experiences. These bonds don’t appear overnight—they’re nurtured through challenges, victories, and personal growth, making them feel real and meaningful.

Yes, Fairy Tail has flaws. The power of friendship can sometimes feel like a Deus Ex Machina. But is that really such a terrible thing? Plenty of series rely on power boosts for their protagonists—Fairy Tail just embraces the emotional aspect more. And honestly, in a world full of cynicism, a story that reminds us of the power of loyalty and bonds is refreshing.

So before dismissing Fairy Tail as just another "cringe" anime, take a step back and appreciate it for what it is—a fun, emotional, and wildly entertaining adventure that isn't afraid to wear its heart on its sleeve. Sometimes, that’s exactly what we need.

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

Dear Agony

BuckTommyWhumpWeek, Day 5: Hypothermia (A03 version)

This one is Tommy whump for you connoisseurs out there... ;)

Thick drops pelted the roof of the small, cozy cabin high up in the mountains, dripping onto the icicles on the eaves.

“It’s thawing.”

Tommy stepped closer to the window, resting his chin on Buck's shoulder. “That's too bad. I'm sorry.”

Buck turned his head. “Why? Wasn’t you who made the weather,” he said with a smile.

“Well, that's actually beyond my capabilities.” Tommy grinned and added, “However, I did persuade you to make this trip with me. After all, we wanted to go hiking, and the forecast never mentioned a change in the weather.”

Buck snuggled up to him, muttering, “Oh, I’m sure we'll find something to pass the time.”

“Probably,” Tommy whispered close to his ear, “but unfortunately our vacation is very short.” He glanced out the window again. “There's a spot with a fantastic view up the San Antonio peak... in spring, the blueberry bushes blossom, giving off a very special scent. In summer, you’re surrounded by the berries. It’s a paradise. There aren’t any berries now, of course, but it’s still very romantic with the snow and all.”

“Oh? How do you know all that? How many times have you been up here?”

“Hmm,” Tommy muttered with relish. Buck pulled him away from the window with a laugh.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

An hour later, the rain had stopped. The landscape, however, was filled with the sounds of crackling and dripping: harbingers of the thaw that the change of weather had brought. Buck and Tommy had opted for a short hike anyway. After all, this was a rare occasion – when did they have the chance for three days of vacation in a row, at the same time?

It was still chilling, with the wind biting through their thick layers of clothing. Buck had been living in the city for so long that he was no longer used to this kind of weather. He enjoyed it, though: as they walked, he happily puffed his breath out into the cold air, savoring the snow while it lasted. Three days in the wilderness, in a tiny cabin with Tommy, love in front of the fireplace like in a cheesy rom-com, and a walk while they warmed each other's fingers – it couldn't get any better.

At least until Buck spotted the viewpoint Tommy was talking about. The blueberry bushes  were, of course, bare and heavy with snow, but between them, a narrow path opened up to a small clearing. The sky seemed close enough to touch, the low-hanging clouds were pure cotton candy. The surrounding peaks of the San Gabriel Mountains were still patched in white. It seemed hard to imagine that they’d be driving back down tomorrow into pre-summer L.A. Buck wasn’t ready for it yet.

They spent the rest of the day hiking one of the many adventure trails around the mountains. The sun was shining again; after a particularly steep descent, its rays glistening on a patch of ice were a welcome sight. 

“A small lake,” said Buck, enthralled by the view.

“There shouldn't be a lake there,” Tommy returned, frowning as he spread out the map in his hands.

“Are we lost?”

“Not really... let's compare the geodata.”

But the virtual map showed the same thing – definitely not a lake. Buck, looking over Tommy's shoulder, tapped on the phone, suggesting, “Turn on the topography map.”

That helped: the spot in front of them, where the path normally led, was in a hollow; a small descent that wasn't even noticeable when there was plenty of snow. Now, however, there was a sheet of ice because rain had gathered in the hollow and the snow that usually covered it had melted.

“Well, tough luck for us,” said Tommy, glancing at his watch. “We'll lose some time, but we'll have to go around it, I guess.”

“Wait, it's not a particularly large patch of ice. Maybe it'll hold us.” Buck was already testing the frozen surface with the heel of his boot. 

“Evan. It's thawing, it'll never hold us.”

Buck turned around, grinning and already with both feet on the ice. His left leg slipped. For a moment, his arms flailed in the air, then he caught himself. He looks like Bambi, Tommy thought, almost amused.

“Don’t,” he warned him nonetheless. “The cabin is still more than an hour away. If you fall in, you'll get some nasty frostbite. It may be thawing, but it's still freezing cold.”

“I'm sure it'll hold.”

“We’ve no signal out here,” Tommy tried to reason. “How am I supposed to call for help if you break through the ice?”

“You won’t need to.” Buck grinned, stepping forward cautiously. “Look, four steps. It's holding.”

Tommy shook his head, but he knew there was no stopping this man. When Buck set his mind to something, he found a way — and while he was risk-taking, he wasn't reckless. He knew the dangers, and he probably even knew all the statistics about frozen surfaces, their supposed thickness and the like. Tommy watched as Buck cautiously took another step. 

“Solid ground. Like I said, only four steps.”

“Not everyone has legs as long as yours,” Tommy replied skeptically, but nevertheless he put a foot on the ice. Cautiously, he moved on.

“You'd better move a little to the right. It's safe where I walked,” Buck said, gesturing.

“If I cross at exactly the same spot, it'll be too much weight.”

“No, statistically speaking, that's the thickest part of the ice,” Buck disagreed. “The closer you get to the edge, the thinner the ice...”

He broke off as there was a loud noise. It sounded almost like stepping on a branch in the forest, only much higher and more threatening. Tommy looked down in amazement. Fragile, narrow cracks had formed around the soles of his boots. Then, the ice broke.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

As if standing on a trapdoor that had suddenly opened, he plunged into the freezing water up to his chest. Quick-thinking, he stretched out his arms, which crashed painfully onto the remaining ice, yet his hands found no hold. 

“Tommy,” Buck shouted, taking a step back onto the ice, but Tommy yelled, “Stay where you are!”

Buck stood rooted to the spot and looked down in disbelief at the surface he had just crossed so easily. Cracks had formed all over the ice, a threatening pattern of fragility. The water pulled Tommy down, his wet jeans sticking to his legs. He pressed his forearms firmly against the remaining ice around him, his muscles tense to the point of tearing. 

“It's not deep,” he said; the calm in his voice was meant more for Buck than an expression of his state of mind. “This isn't a real lake. I can...”

At that moment, the ice supporting his arms broke. The force pulled Tommy down a little further, and for a terrifying moment he thought he was drowning. Water splashed into his face, knocking the breath out of him; it penetrated every fiber of his clothing. Buck threw himself face down on the ice and started to crawl towards Tommy. The ice cracked ominously.

“Stay there,” Tommy implored him, gasping for air. “I'll make it out, don’t worry. Don’t fall in as well!”

“No way, I'm pulling you out!”

“No,” Tommy shouted sternly. “Go back. The ice is about to break, can't you see?”

He nodded in Buck's direction. And sure enough, the cracks in the surface grew larger, still spreading. Small, razor-sharp shards flew through the air as the entire ice collapsed and broke into dozens of pieces. Tommy took a deep breath—ice-cold air that hurt his lungs—and pushed off awkwardly. His wet clothes pulled him down, but his iron will and all the weightlifting paid off: he managed to swim forward, through the chunks of ice.

It was only a short distance, but it felt endless, as if the eerily cold water simply refused to part and let the man, this strange foreign object, pass through. Buck had retreated when the rest of the ice broke, but now he waded in, and as soon as Tommy was close enough, he grabbed him.

“I got you. I got you,” he stuttered. His wide-open eyes revealed that, contrary to all experience, contrary to all knowledge, he had almost panicked. Because it was about Tommy. The adrenaline felt different when you suddenly found yourself on the other side of the accident.

Finally, both of them stumbled into the snow. It was wet and slippery, but right now, that didn’t matter. Tommy lay on his back and stared at the sky, panting as if he had just run a short-distance race. Suddenly, there were Buck's blue eyes instead of the sky, an even more beautiful sight, and very welcome at that moment.

“You okay? Are you hurt?”

“No. No, I don't think so,” Tommy replied slowly as he thought about it. As his heart rate slowed down, he realized he was wet and clammy, and his body instinctively reacted – he started shivering. 

“We need to get back,” Buck urged. “As fast as we can.”

“I’ll manage.” Tommy took a deep breath and pushed himself off the ground, a little surprised at how easy it was. 

Buck peeled off his puffer jacket, wrapping it around Tommy's shoulders. “We need to get you out of those clothes, and fast. But not here.”

“I'm fine.”

“This was a stupid idea,” said Buck, biting his lip. 

“Can’t disagree on that… let’s just go,” Tommy replied with chattering teeth.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

Buck should’ve known that Tommy’s I’m fine was obviously window dressing. Something was clearly, seriously wrong, but he couldn’t exactly put his finger on it. They were walking for like ten minutes, and Tommy couldn’t stop shivering; as uncomfortable as he must have felt, that was probably normal. What wasn’t quite so normal was him acting somewhat nervous, almost agitated. Normally, he was the one who kept a cool head; as a pilot, he couldn't afford to do otherwise. Now, he was picking at his trembling fingers, if he wasn’t running them through his hair or kept wiping them on his jeans as if he was trying to dry something, anything. Maybe it was just that he didn’t know what to do with his hands – a feeling Buck could certainly understand, but he’d never seen Tommy act like this. Finally, he walked with his arms wrapped around himself, though there was nothing to keep him warm right now. Even the jacket Buck had wrapped around him was already soaked through.

The landscape, which had seemed so picturesque just a few minutes ago, suddenly felt hostile. Though it wasn’t as cold as yesterday, when it had been gently snowing on their arrival at the cabin, but the wind was still biting under Buck’s sweater, and stinging on Tommy’s wet skin. 

 “There's really no reason to call 911,” Tommy said when Buck held up the phone for the third time, searching for a signal.

“This is definitely a reason to call for help,” Buck objected. “We still have a long way to go, and you need to warm up. You're probably hypothermic.”

“When we get back, we'll take the car and drive down to the hospital, okay? If it's that important to you.”

Buck looked at Tommy skeptically. He knew the man didn’t like hospitals all that much, and he couldn’t blame him, but this was ridiculous. Tommy kept hopping up and down in a futile attempt to warm himself, but it was pointless in his wet clothes. Buck didn't know much about hypothermia—in L.A., you probably had to get locked in a cold storage room to suffer from it—but he knew enough to realize they’d better hurry.

“I'm sorry about our trip,” Tommy added. His smile showed genuine regret. 

That stung, almost like the cold wind. Buck bit his lip. “I-it’s my fault. I shouldn't have talked you into stepping on the ice.” 

“Hey, at least you gave me your jacket.” Tommy’s grin was crooked. He was breathing heavily—surely that wasn't just because he couldn't stand still for a minute.

“Wait a minute,” Buck held him back. Despite the thick jacket, Tommy’s arm was ice cold, which made him feel queasy. “I think you're hyperventilating.”

“Your jacket is so warm.” Tommy shrugged, then tugged at the garment, clumsily trying to slip out of the sleeves. 

Startled, Buck held his arm tightly. “Hey. Leave it,” he implored his boyfriend, but Tommy shook him off, saying, “You need it more than I do, don't you think? I'm not cold anymore.”

Tommy held out the jacket to him. Buck was indeed cold—he felt as if there was an icicle stuck in his stomach. 

“Please put that back on,” he said, fumbling for his phone again. There was still no signal, and they were nowhere near the cabin. 

“Hm?” Tommy went. He looked down at himself, then at the sky; for a moment, he seemed utterly confused. Then, he just plopped down onto the snow.

“What are you doing?” Buck grabbed Tommy's shoulders. They felt strangely stiff, and the icicle inside his guts only seemed to grow larger. “You need to get up. We have to keep going. Come on, I'll help you.”

Everything about Tommy now seemed rigid; it was as if Buck was trying to move a rock, downright terrifying. His thoughts were spinning. You’re a first responder, you know what to do, he told himself. But his inner voice didn't sound as encouraging as he would have liked, because it just wasn’t that easy. He knew they needed help as soon as possible, warmth, an ambulance, oxygen—everything that wasn't available right now, but that wasn't the problem. 

Buck was used to stressful situations, but right now, fear was almost paralyzing him, and he couldn’t understand it. He was a maker, functioning under pressure, finding solutions, but… Suddenly, he realized that he felt like a relative. Like someone who was getting in the way of rescue because they cared too much for the patient. Buck certainly had feared for his loved ones before, but never like this, and it sent him into shock. The only one who could free him from it was himself, and fast – for Tommy. 

“Listen,” he said, kneeling beside Tommy and putting his jacket back around the man’s  shoulders; he had to hold it in place because he kept trying to pull it off. “We're both used to saving people. But sometimes we need help too, okay? That’s fine.”

“Hm?” Tommy looked at him with a unsteady gaze. “Evan?”

“Yes, exactly. Listen, Tommy, I’ll tell you what we're going to do.”

Buck pulled Tommy up. He had given up resisting, but probably not because he understood the seriousness of his situation. Buck feared that, on the contrary, he’d already reached a dangerous stage of hypothermia. Tommy’s breathing was shallow, his eyes glassy—how was he going to get the man to the cabin? One thing at a time. Buck grabbed Tommy around the waist, pulling him along. Tommy stumbled forward, and Buck supported him. It would take forever, but he could do it. He had to. 

Once, long ago, somewhere between construction worker and bartender, Buck had briefly pushed wheelchairs in a hospital and walked people who had spent a long time in bed. Tommy hadn't forgotten how to walk, but he seemed unwilling to do so. No—rather, it seemed as if everything about him had frozen, as if the ice-cold water and air had slowed him down. He moved almost in slow motion, and Buck, who regularly checked Tommy's pulse, realized that it felt the same. Whatever that meant, he had to banish those thoughts from his mind for as long as possible.

Buck kept checking his phone—nothing, still. He caught himself starting to babble, as he often did when he was nervous. Tommy had always been the only one to never interrupt him, to listen patiently to sometimes endless ramblings. But he also always had the means to interrupt Buck from letting his thoughts spiral out of control. Right now, he couldn’t do that. Tommy’s apathy was so uncharacteristic that Buck felt panic rising.

“We're almost there,” he muttered, more to himself than to Tommy, “we’re gonna make it. Keep going, yes, like that. I'll get you back, and then you'll be warm again, I promise.”

Tommy didn't answer; he hadn't responded for minutes. Whatever had spurred him on, it suddenly seemed gone. Slumping against Buck’s grip, he collapsed. 

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

Much later, Buck would wonder why all his panic had vanished at that moment, making room for an almost eerie calm. Even though the situation had only gotten worse, he was functioning again; the firefighter gene seemed too deeply ingrained in him.

He let Tommy slide into the snow, felt his pulse—still slow and arrhythmic, as far as he could tell—and lifted one of his eyelids. The pupil was extremely dilated, and he had no idea what that meant. It wasn't good, anyway. Buck tapped Tommy gently on the cheeks. “Hey, come on. Don’t fall asleep on me.”

Tommy didn't respond. Against his better jugdment, Buck pulled out his phone once more, but they still weren’t close enough. No signal. He cursed under his breath, checking his watch. Somewhere behind those snow-covered trees to the north was the cabin. If he’d calculated it correctly, it was perhaps another three-quarters of an hour to get there. In about thirty minutes, his phone might be able to connect to the nearest cell tower. Looking down at Tommy, Buck realized he needed to get him out of the snow, and fast, and there only seemed to be one option left. He took a deep breath, as if he could inhale determination, and watched his breath steam in the cold air as he exhaled. Then, he slid his arms under Tommy’s shoulders, crouched down and pulled him halfway up before finally hoisting his boyfriend onto his shoulder. With a grunt, he stood up, steadying his precious cargo. 

“Just a bag of cement,” he said aloud as he stepped forward slowly, trying to keep his balance. Tommy was heavy, but it was all a matter of the right mindset. “Did I ever tell you that I used to work on construction sites? They always liked to get the young guys when there was something heavy to carry. Of course, there were rules, like using hand trucks or a harness, stuff like that, but they only enforced them when the owners or architects were on site. Otherwise, everything had to be done quickly, so we just threw the bags over our shoulders. Got me a hell of a lot of muscles after a couple of weeks...”

Tommy was wet and clammy and heavy, and he was anything but a sack of cement, but right now, Buck couldn't think about that. He couldn't think about his shallow breathing, his pale face, his bluish skin, or his irregular pulse. Buck thought only of each step he took, because each step brought Tommy closer to safety.

He walked on almost mechanically, one foot in front of the other, balancing the weight on his shoulders. With one hand he clutched Tommy's body, with the other he checked his cell phone again and again.

“Do you know the story of Leslie Allen?” Buck knew he was talking to himself. But if that was what kept him going, if that was what kept Tommy alive... “He was an Australian stretcher bearer at the Battle of Tambu during World War II. Two American colleagues had been killed while trying to retrieve their wounded. But Leslie Allen went onto the battlefield as if the bullets couldn't touch him; he picked them up one by one and carried them to safety. Twelve men."

The trees in front of Buck thinned out. He squinted. Was that... was that the roof of the cabin back there? He quickened his pace.

“I figured,” he said, holding the phone up, “if he carried twelve men one after the other, I can take on one stubborn guy. You certainly owe me a shoulder massage afterwards, Tommy, right? Because I... shit!” 

He almost dropped the phone: two bars, finally. Not much, but it would do. Buck frantically pressed the emergency button.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

As the path widened, Buck could now actually see the roof of the cabin. Just a few more minutes and he’d be there, the car was right around the corner, they’d be fine, right?

“911, what's your emergency?”

Buck had never been so happy to hear a voice. In a staccato tone, he gave their location and an update on Tommy's condition; it all came out almost automatically as his mind was preoccupied with getting closer to the car. He could already see the chrome of Tommy's truck bumper glinting in the sun. 

“All right, sir, stay calm, help is on the way.” The guy in dispatch gave his spiel, his voice calm and authoritative. “Get your partner into the warmth, somewhere dry. If possible, remove his wet clothing and wrap him in blankets. But no hot water bottles, and please don't try to warm him up by rubbing his skin.”

Buck trudged grimly through the snow. “Don't worry,” he replied, “I know that much, I'm a firefighter.”

“You're a firefighter?”

“Evan Buckley, LAFD, Station 118.”

“Oh,” said the other man. From the sympathetic tone of his voice, Buck could almost hear what he was thinking. The station that lost its captain. Word got around among first responders, and they weren't far from L.A., after all. But Buck had no time for sympathy right now, nor did he want to relive the grief that had been a part of him for months. Bobby was dead, there was no changing that, but he would save Tommy. He had to. 

“Listen, how long until backup arrives?” he asked. 

“The nearest department is twenty minutes from your location,” said the dispatcher. “In the off-season, the roads are usually empty, so maybe fifteen.”

“That's too much, can’t wait for them,” Buck replied. “I'll drive out to meet the ambulance.”

“Sir...”

To his credit, the man on the other end didn't try to talk Buck out of it; he was probably consulting with his superiors. In any case, Buck had no intention of waiting that long. Tommy's car wasn't locked; after all, the whole point of this trip had been to spend a few days in seclusion – this wasn’t exactly a tourist spot, and a snow goat was hardly likely to break into the vehicle.

Buck wedged the phone between his teeth and hoisted Tommy into the back seat. Perhaps the most sensible thing to do would have been to take him to the cabin, strip him of his wet clothes, and wrap him in blankets, but Buck had that… feeling that made all his nerves tingle. Everything inside of him screamed that he couldn't waste any more time. Yes, Tommy was robust, an athletic and healthy man. But he was so pale, his skin was almost translucent now, and his lips and fingers had taken on a concerning blue color. Buck suppressed the urge to squeeze those fingers. He felt around Tommy's clammy pockets – of course he had the car keys with him, the man was always prepared. Maybe it was just a reflex, but right now Buck was pretty grateful for it, just like he was for the car, because it had park heating. He quickly reached between the front seats to turn it on.

“All right, sir,” dispatch reported, causing Buck to quickly reach for his phone again, “take the road south of Barrett Canyon until it meets Mt. Baldy Road. It's just a short mile. Wait there for the fire department, okay?”

Buck mechanically checked Tommy's pulse. “Alright, fine,“ he replied. “I... damn it.”

”Sir?“

”I-I can't feel a pulse."

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

The dispatcher said something, maybe he was explaining what to do. Buck didn’t hear it over the ringing in his ears. He knew what to do, and now, he was just functioning. He tossed his phone onto the front seat. Half squeezed into the footwell of the truck, his knees in the melting snow, Buck crossed his hands, pressing them down on Tommy's chest.

“You’re-not-doing-this,” he panted as his hands performed a mechanical, well-practiced rhythm. „You won’t leave me, you’re perfectly healthy man… just a little wet and cold, nothing that can't be fixed. Besides, the fire department will be here shortly. Are you listening to me? If I break one of your ribs, it'll be your own fault, you hear me?"

A drop fell on Tommy's cold, motionless face. Great, now it's starting to rain again, Buck thought, until he realized they were in the car. Defiantly, he frantically wiped his eyes, then held two fingers against Tommy's neck. Still nothing. He pressed down on his chest again, counting in his head.

Aloud, he said, “A fresh start. That's what you said, wasn't it? No more of this on-off relationship, no more rom-com misunderstandings. This time, it's for real. Maybe forever. Okay, you didn't say that, but I thought it, Tommy. I thought it. And I wanted to tell you. Maybe not after this weekend, but...”

He paused and pressed his mouth to Tommy's blue lips, suppressing the thought that they were cold as a corpse's. He blew air into Tommy's lungs twice, or at least he hoped it got there. Hope was all he had left now, wasn't it? It was so damn unfair. Buck didn't know if what he was feeling was actually anger or sheer desperation, but whatever it was, it drove the rhythm his hands were drumming on Tommy's chest. 

“It was just a little ice. The water wasn't even deep, it wasn't a lake, you said yourself there's no lake, just topography. A glitch in the matrix. But you don't die from that, you hear me? I won't let you. I don't want this to–”

There. Was that a movement, or just his imagination? A twitch, perhaps, or just something you see out of the corner of your eye, like a blink? Buck pressed his fingers against Tommy's throat. In the desperate need of a miracle, he held his breath.

Thump. - Pause - Thump.

Buck counted. After a minute, he exhaled as if emerging from the depths. Less than 60 beats, too few, but at least something.

“That's it,” he gasped. “Keep breathing, you hear me? We have to...”

“Sir?”

Buck had completely forgotten about the phone. He quickly fumbled around on the front seat, grabbed it, and yelled, “I have a pulse again! When will the ambulance be here?”

“They’re two min–”

The phone slipped out of Buck's cold, wet hands: Tommy's eyelids fluttered.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

“Tommy,” he whispered. His phone fell under the back seat, but it didn't matter now. Nothing mattered now but this: a little flutter, a soft twitch. Life. Buck gently and carefully took Tommy's face between his hands, providing just a little bit of body heat. “Hang in there a little longer, okay? I'm sure they'll be here any minute. He said the road should be clear. It's a piece of cake, they...”

Tommy slowly opened his eyes. His pupils were still large, his gaze unfocused. 

“Cold,” he muttered as his eyelids snapped shut once more.

“I know,” said Buck, his voice taking on a soothing tone.

The unnatural warmth of the park heating made the air in the car stuffy, but at least it wasn't quite so cold anymore, even though the door was still open. Nevertheless, he pulled his sweater over his head, placing it somewhat awkwardly over Tommy's chest like an oversized band-aid made out of love. 

“You'll be fine, okay? You'll warm up again, I promise. Breathe easy. That's good, like that. Just stay with me.” 

His fingers gently stroked Tommy's cheeks, as if he could bring color back to them with just his touch and his will. Tommy muttered something unintelligible.

“Shh,” Buck said, surprised to find that he wasn't stuttering, hadn’t been in a while, actually. “Just lie still. I won't go anywhere.”

It was pointless to meet the first responders on the street now, and above all, Buck would have had to let go of Tommy. The thought of getting behind the wheel and not being able to keep an eye on his breathing was terrifying. If it were up to Buck, he would sit here forever, holding Tommy's hand and watching his chest rise and fall. What a feeling. How strange to feel happy when the situation was dire.

“... either,” Tommy muttered. 

Buck brushed a few wet strands of hair from his pilot’s forehead; then, following an impulse, he leaned forward and kissed the damp, incredibly cold skin. He wondered if Tommy even felt it, quickly dismissing the thought. They’d be safe soon. 

“Sure,” he said in the kind of tone they used with patients; it didn't matter if they understood what you said, as long as someone was holding their hand. But Tommy frowned, cranking his eyes open with effort. 

“No,” he whispered. “Listen.”

Sirens could now be heard in the distance, and Buck couldn't imagine a more beautiful sound. Or a more beautiful sight than Tommy, the corners of whose mouth turned upward. It was a crooked, almost ethereal smile, but it was beautiful. The smile of a man who wasn't quite himself, but who had an important, urgent message he needed to get across. And after that, Buck knew, even before the words were spoken, everything would be fine. This time for real. 

“’M not leaving either. Never again.”

[dakusan]

Hii first ask and its quite tame but I was just so curious on what the reaction you think would be like for chan to break the news to the kids that he wants to move in with his partner/ like what his reaction would be if you were to ask to move in together after awhile of dating.

Thanks if you do ever get to writing this if not that's completely ok!

HI SADEEEE and welcome to the blood-thirsty, emotionally devastating, slightly feral corner of the internet 😌🩸 This ask? Tender. Real. Domestic. And extremely Bang Chan coded. So let’s break it down

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🏠IF YOU ASKED CHAN TO MOVE IN WITH YOU…

You don’t say it dramatically. You’re both on the floor eating takeout, something cheesy, watching a dumb movie, and you say—

“You know… we basically live together anyway. Should we just—make it official?”

He pauses. Blinks. Chews slowly.

And then melts. Not into goo. Into relief. Because he’s been thinking it. He’s been noticing your toothbrush next to his. Your socks in his drawer. The way you always hum in his kitchen like it’s yours. The way he sleeps better when you're there, like his whole nervous system sighs.

But he didn’t want to push. He didn’t want to scare you.

“You really want that?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“…Then I’m already home.”

He pulls you into his lap. Buries his face in your neck. Murmurs things like:

“I’ll clear a closet.” “You don’t have to bring the rice cooker. But if you want to, I’ll make room.” “We’ll get a bigger bed if we have to.”

And then he kisses you like you chose forever.

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🐺WHEN HE TELLS STRAY KIDS

He doesn’t plan to announce it.

But one night, the boys are over—half-drunk on soju and snacks, playing Mario Kart. Someone makes a joke like:

“Hyung, when was the last time you even slept at your own place?” And he goes: “I live with YN now, basically.” Silence. Then— “Wait, WHAT???”

Felix SCREAMS. Jisung drops his controller. Minho mutters “finally” and sips his drink like a 40-year-old auntie.

“You MOVED IN?” “You didn’t tell us?” “WE COULD’VE HELPED YOU PACK!” “Do she cook for you? Are you eating vegetables?!” “DID YOU MAKE HER SIGN A LEASE OR A LOVE CONTRACT?!”

Chan just laughs. Full dimples. Soft eyes.

“It’s not that serious.” “HYUNG YOU ARE COHABITING. THAT IS HOLY MATRIMONY.”

Eventually Hyunjin clutches his chest like it’s a drama: “Our leader has flown the nest… may love bless your rice cooker.”

They all demand to see the new place. They show up a week later uninvited with candles, blankets, and a doormat that says “Bahng’s House (And Roommate 💍)”.

And Chan? He doesn’t stop smiling for days.

Because to him, this isn’t just “moving in.” It’s choosing a life. A future. A place to come back to. And you asked. Which means you want him. Every version of him.

And for someone who’s spent most of his life making room for others—

Finally being asked to take up space? That’s everything.

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🥹 Thank you for this sweet ask, Sadeee. It’s gentle, honest, and full of real love

[jerreeeeeee]

the characters are so so fun. the two younger kids finding entrance into a world they’ve always dreamed of made for an excellent adventure hook and then getting all the old crew that have all this shared history and long years of friendship makes me instantly more intrigued in all the characters and their dynamics. they’re all played so earnestly that i cant wait to see more of all of them even the ones whose premises i wasnt initially very interested in. i usually do not like steampunk when its industrial and depressing but the radio age exploratory sky-sailing mythical lost lands is a totally different vibe that i’m actually really enjoying. its just totally leaning into the cheesiness and adventure and creative freedom of high fantasy and i love it. the animations in the intro are fantastic and i cant wait to see more. the character art is of course gorgeous. and i’m ALWAYS glad to see a rat familiar

[legitspidey]

Spideypool songfic <3

(because I only listen to singular songs on loop)

short fic, established relationship, fluff

The initial idea: Deadpool listens to cheesy love songs on speaker (in both his and Spidey's apartments) for context I'm listening Heaven Tonight by HIM He puts it on speaker and sings loudly like it's a ballad and does air guitar and it ends with him and Peter dancing around the kitchen

Heaven tonight HIM

0:45──⚬──── 3:20 ⇆ ◃◃ ıı ▹▹ ↻

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Peter hauls himself through the open bedroom window to his apartment and tumbles onto the bed

He's just come back from an evening patrol, alone this time, and while it was mostly uneventful (a couple robberies and a cat in a tree), it was almost 3am and he was both tired and hungry

Tugging the mask off and shaking out his hair, he begins making his way to the kitchen and grabs a black hoodie from the back of the desk chair then pulls it over his head

As he approaches the door, he can hear the hum of music coming from the kitchen. A soft smile creeps its way onto his face

The hum becomes more distinct words the further down the hall he gets

Trying to find the heart Trying to find the heart you hide in vain Oh in vain

He turns the corner into the kitchen and Wade is there. Peter expected nothing else, it's not like anyone else he knows would break into his apartment, bring their own speaker, and make themselves at home in the middle of the night

He's singing along to the song under his breath and faces the opposing counter, away from Peter

And you're my haven in life And you're my haven in death, Baby Life and Death my Darling

Wade appears to be baking something, judging by the smell. Peter can identify the smell of both burning and of homemade cake. Plus, the kitchen is an absolute mess.

There are pans and bowls and spatulas (Peter didn't think he had more than one) all over the counter and, because Wade had run out of space, there are trays and plates on the floor too. One of the bigger plates has a stack of four cake sponges on it, held together by white icing and two more cakes sit on plates next to it.

The cakes are all different colours but they're all slightly muddy, if you give it the benefit of the doubt, a couple look green, there's a really dark one, a slightly less dark one, and two that look red

Peter smiles properly and sits on a stool next to a precarious stack of pans

Wade turns around from the opposite counter, leaving the bowl of icing he was mixing there and full on beams at Peter

He's wearing some dark grey sweatpants and a tacky Spider-Man t-shirt with a slightly inaccurate Spider-Man logo that he got to piss Peter off, it's now covered with a dusting of flour

"Webs! You're back!"

"Yeah, just got in, you're baking?"

There's no point in addressing why Wade is in his kitchen, it happens often enough that its not surprising anymore, and Peter should really know better. He leaves the window open most nights, someone is bound to break in. Granted, he was thinking more like a robber but a Deadpool is much preferred

"Yes, look!"

He brings the stack of cake from the floor, swaps it with a mostly empty bowl on the counter and nudges the sponges into a neater stack before stepping back

"I'm making a rainbow cake! It's actually surprisingly hard to get colours right when you're baking them, I made chocolate cake but that makes everything brown so it's not one hundred percent colour accurate"

Wade rubs a hand over the back of his neck

"They're great, Wade" Peter says, because they are. The colours are a little muted but that's the only issue. They smell amazing and they rose evenly so they stack well, he's about to say as much when Wade interrupts his train of thought

I'm in love with~

"Hold on, this is the chorus, it's the best part-"

He cuts himself off as the drum kicks in

You are my heaven tonight

Wade puts a hand over his heart dramatically as he sings and Peter ducks his head to hide his laughter

(I'm in love with you)

Wade turns his head away dramatically for that part, then turns back to Peter as the chorus repeats the lyrics

He reaches out a hand over the counter, closing it into a fist at the 'I'm in love with you' and he's laughing with Peter too

The chorus repeats that like three more times and Wade sings along to it all, then the song dies down again, going back to the piano, and Wade walks around the counter to the open space in front of the sofa. He motions for Peter to join him, but Peter shakes his head. 'Coward', Wade mouths, so Peter lets him drag him forward by his hands because that's just rude.

The drum and guitar come back as the chorus repeats again. Wade sings with the music as he dances them back and forth, both of them are trying not to laugh and doing a terrible job at it

You are my heaven tonight (I'm in love with you)

Peter joins in near the end of the song and it becomes both of them singing as they dance around the carpet

That's right (I'm in love with you) That's right (I'm in love with you)

Peter's heart feels like it's going to expand out of his chest. The moment is so unbelievably domestic it's hard to wraps his head around. Wade is smiling at him and he looks so unapologetically happy and Peter wants him to stay like this forever

The song begins to fade out and they drift closer together, swaying in time with the music

Peter has a giddy grin on his face and he rests their foreheads together. They're both singing the repeating lyrics at each other, Wade repeats 'I'm in love with you' and Peter responds with 'That's right' over and over like call and response.

It's so stupidly cheesy and sappy and rom-com and everything like that but it feels great and Peter doesn't ever want it any other way

. ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ .

Later, they eat Wade's rainbow cake on the sofa (which is delicious, by the way) and Wade puts on some rom-com movie.

Peter doesn't really watch the movie, he's half asleep sprawled over Wade while he watches and absent mindedly combs his fingers through Peter's hair

He falls asleep there, content and calm and happy

[mistress-light]

Cinta, not forcing herself upon Frey, is just such a genuine act of love of itself?

Like, she isn't acting like 'Hey! I haven't seen you in years and never thought I would again, come here, give mama a big hug'.

No, she fully understands how Frey must have felt and still is feeling. She's been hurt and created an image of her mother being an unloving monster for over 21 years. And Cinta never ever holds it against her. Because she knows.

And even at the scene where she is dying and about to fade away, she lets Frey come to her out of her own will and love for her. Even if Frey didn't, Cinta would have loved her daughter regardless, just as much as she always has. She even says so if Frey had chosen to go back to New York.

In the lost lullabies sidequest, does Frey want Cinta to be there for her and actually feels like she can let it all out without being hurt ever again.....

[chatlote]

Happy Valentines <3

[victarin]

i fucking love people here you guys see this dinnerplate-faced daycare animatronic and go "what if they were detectives" and you make all this amazing astounding art and writing and concepts and designs like yeah . sure . im going to be normal abt this and im not going to think about the incredible levels of creativity involved im not gointg to think about how much i love seeing beginner artists using the dca as a way to learn new skills in art and character design Im not going to think about how much joy is in all those AUs and how much artists and writers put aspects of whatever they enjoy in those stupid ass clowns to make these incredible inspired stories and artworks absolutely Brimming with love for what they created &how much i love seeing people in the community huddling around those AUs and hyping them up and making More Art from those yeah im normal. whatever

[goldenlie]

Do you think I had forgotten, about you?

I have not picked up a clip editing app since iMovie but I’ve been craving to make an edit surrounding formula 1 for months. Seeing Esteban pull Lance into conversation after noticing him standing alone was my tipping point.

This is undoubtedly late to seven trends but it’s made with love of the game and that’s timeless.

[flyttadigsart]

i stand accuuused of love in the first degree

[solardrop]

I want to comment more on ao3 but my constant reaction to a good fic is just to tell writer I am deeply in love with them.

[capricores]

pisces/virgo placements... it's about time you took care of yourself, too, ok?

you burn yourselves out allowing yourself to be pulled by so many people in all different directions. you exhaust all your resources and empty your cup - no, your entire well - to help those around you, even people you don't know. it's such a beautiful thing, and i know you genuinely love helping others, supporting people, seeing them thrive. it's such a beautiful trait! but you constantly end up neglecting yourself, right? you don't realize that you have permission to set aside time to care for you, to cater to your needs for once. you often feel like no one puts a drop in your cup, the favor is never returned - it's exhausting; you might think if you just keep giving your all it will come back; i understand. you will find the people that give the same energy back to you one day, but regardless of whether you've found those people yet, you need to learn to step aside and fill your own cup!

setting boundaries and saying no is the most important thing you will learn to do in this lifetime. it will not be easy for you, sometimes it will feel painful. but you cannot help the world if you're constantly drained and tired! you deserve to take care of yourself in the same way you do for others. be gentle to your kind soul, nourish yourself; do the things you love to do. learn to worry about others less, as hard as it is, and focus on yourself more.

[snow-and-saltea]

something about titles for stories that sound utterly generic but it ends up being a masterpiece you binge read for two days straight. i love it so much. go read "my in laws are obsessed with me" on webtoon

rambling under the cut; some spoilers but nonspecific and vague

i fkn love so much the show not tell element in this story, it never feels like i'm being spoonfed information by having five speech bubbles in one panel. characters rarely say what they truly think or feel, atmosphere and mood are set solely by composition and art, some of the most heartbreaking and scared ive felt reading this manhwa had NO speech bubbles at all and there was no fancy effects or sfx you'd normally see in comics. the world goes on normally while you see a character in pain, full body wailing with grief at the ache of heartbreak. i teared up and i didnt even know what her voice sounded like, i didnt know what thoughts were going through her mind or the overwhelming bodily sensation of emotional pain that must've wrecked her. the build up of seeing an adaptable, grounded and sometimes cute and awkward person you've gotten to know over 50 ish chapters, only to then see her doubling over in pain and screaming, soundlessly to my ears. one of the most visceral experiences ive had recently.

i don't even care if i sound like im being biased or gassing this manhwa up btw Who Give A Shit bc not me!! i will talk about the things i like about bc i like them!

i love the mc / fl most of all because of how she's such... a neat vessel to the world. not spoiling it about her backstory and disposition and such, but the way she, on paper, sort of fits into that niche of people who don't know how much they matter to people around them. usually in regression / revenge stories with an insecure low self esteem FL, they start out really defensive, angsty / edgy, and then mellow out as they receive love. but our FL is reasonable, even-tempered and logical - that her emotional "insecurity" in regards to being tethered to people around her is mostly rooted in her own "seeing is believing" mentality and understanding, somewhat sympathetically, why people wouldn't / don't like her, and she doesn't really take it to heart.

what's funny is that even when people are subtly showing adoration and love for her, she doesn't know how to take it to heart, and she gets uncomfortable and awkward about it. not in a usually fluffy "this is so moving that i cant respond sensibly" way, the way most loved FLs usually pass by as a marker to Growth, but because it puts her in an awkward situation and she doesn't know what to do about it. she gets a little embarrassed but doesn't overreact, because she probably doesn't realise the depth of their affection and doesn't attribute it to herself directly, but rather by other people's kindness. multiple times she's been surprised at when someone (who didn't before but has now warmed up to her) responds kindly to her inquiries, and while i understand her surprise, it's still funny and a little sad to me that she was prepared to take it in stride if people STILL didn't like her after all the ways she's benefitted them.

in other words pereshati you're my queen and i love you. literally who would not love her. her ease and understanding at being distrusted makes her ironically easier to trust because she doesn't hold anything against you and understand that you need to form your own judgement, even if it doesn't turn out well for her. literally who is doing it like her. queen

[callmesel]

I zone out when I was in the shower and had a full AU idea

Fred is a terminally ill cancer patients and has one last chance to "survive" and is a high risk surgery where they need a high compatible donor.

The first thought it's for George to help him, as they are twins and are basically genetically identical. However, George can't do the surgery because he just got out of a terrible accident that leaves him too weak for that type of surgery but good enough to continue his life as "normal" (he still has to take a bunch of different pills so his immune system is full of those different elements that can become a health hazard to Fred if they proceed with the surgery)

For plot convenience tbh, none of the other Weasleys are good enough candidates so they are desperate to save Fred. They are a family of fighters, they are not gonna let Fred just die. There is one family member that could save Fred and that is Percy.

Percy left the family after a heavy fight with Arthur were, after none stop rumours of Percy 'sleeping' his way into his position into the government and of making fun of his family with other high executives, accuse him of such acts. Percy offended and hurt, leaves, saying that his boss was right and that they are just keeping him from truely take off. That happened over 3 years ago and no one knew where Percy was.

So George, taking matters in his own hands, was determined to track down his older brother to save his twin.

Thanks that Ron and his bf Harry worked in the police force, they could see that Percy was still in the country and that he probably was still on England.

George disguised himself as a brunette and even got help to change his face (fake piercing, tattoos, marks) anything to make it more difficult to recognise. And after a long play were they manage to find Oliver Wood, who's Percy's friend, after jumping all around the place.

They are in a high class event, that shock George, and he sees Percy so he slowly approached him. All that pain from all those years were about to erup on him when he saw something, Percy looked happy?

Months goes by and George and Percy become friends (Percy did not know that he was talking with his brother) and George finally builts the courage to ask about his family. He finds out that Percy has a wife and two beautiful twin girls and that he is going great. But then, he starts taking about the Weasleys. George is prepare to hear awful things about them, but no. Percy is not saying nothing hurtful about them. In fact, it sounded like they were a great family. But then again, things take a turn and Percy, drunk because they were drinking at his house, opens up about the fight and George discovers much more.

How he felt ignore by everyone just for carrying the Weasley name, how he felt disconnected from them some one. It was too much to bare for George so he told who he actually was and Percy was astonished. He screams and begs for George to leave. He pushes him to the door but right before closing it George manage to speak and starts telling him all that has happened and that Fred is dying from cancer and that he needed his help.

That stops Perce for a second but then Audrey, his wife, asks him if everything is all right, and Percy gors back to himself and closed the door on Georges face.

George screams at his door and tells him that he knew that he was a coward all along. That he is selfish and a p*ssy and that he is ashamed to has a bastard as his brother.

A week goes by and George finds Percy at his door. He was about to close it but they start chatting and there is allt of frustration going on that lead to no where so Percy leaves again.

I don't know how it ends because like I said, I made this on the fucking spot as I showered and I'm trying to recall everything I was imagining. (I'm my head it was a beautiful animation with Die with a smile at the background) I didn't imagine a scene of Percy visiting Fred in secret and being caught by Charlie who was visiting to try to see if he was compatible (bc he couldn't do the test before) and Charlie decides that he is not gonna tell anyone and talk to Fred first.

I think that Fred should die at the end, to ass more salt to the wound so yeah. Hurt and no comfort, love that.

I want Fred to meet Percy's girls and be excited but passing away anyway. i want them to bond and then die or smt like that. Might write a fic about it.