#and then i shared it to see if anyone else thought the same

[changetyre]

Hey sweetheart, are you okay? I was wondering if there's a chance you could do a part two of this oneshot (https://www.tumblr.com/changetyre/754447240430485504/ill-never-forgive-myself-ii-mafiacarlos-sainz-x?source=share)

I know you're going through a tough block and I'll understand if you can't, so thanks anyway.

🫶🏼

I'll never forgive myself II Mafia!Carlos Sainz X Reader

SUMMARY: Despite reaching out to you after blowing up for the incident with his son Carlos notices things are different with you, you become distant and he tries to find a way to mend things. Part 1 HERE

WARNINGS: angst/comfort.

A/N: Sorry for the late reply ;)

Carlos stood by the large window of his office, the city's skyline shimmering in the distance, but his thoughts were far from the beautiful view. His hands were tucked deep into his pockets, his shoulders tense. The room was silent, except for the occasional ticking of a clock on the wall, yet the quiet only made his thoughts louder. It had been days since the incident with Emanuel, but the image of you protecting his son while narrowly escaping harm still gnawed at him.

He had yelled at you. Blown up in a way that wasn't just harsh but cruel, completely disregarding your health and emotions. Even though he'd apologized, you hadn't been the same since.

Your name echoed in his mind now with every moment of your absence. You had become like a shadow in the house, moving through the halls quietly, barely speaking unless spoken to. You said you'd forgiven him, but he knew better than anyone that forgiveness didn't chase away the hurt.

He hated seeing you like this.

The guilt was worse than any business deal gone wrong, and betrayal he'd experienced before. Carlos had learned to control his emotions over the years, to never let weakness show. But when it came to you, that control seemed to crumble. He found himself thinking about the way your eyes darted away from him now, the way your voice grew smaller, quieter whenever he entered a room.

Even now, you were upstairs with Emanuel. Carlos could hear his son's laughter faintly echoing through the walls. You'd always had a way with Emanuel, a deep connection with him and it filled Carlos with both gratitude and envy. 

Emanuel was naturally drawn to you like no one else, not even to Carlos himself. Your gentleness, your quiet strength, those were qualities Carlos admired, qualities he'd hoped Emanuel would learn from you among others.

He pushed himself away from the window and walked toward the door. This needed to change. He needed to change it.

Upstairs, You sat on the floor with Emanuel playing with his toy cars. His giggles were infectious, and you couldn't help but smile softly, even though your heart still ached with the memory of the incident. Emanuel was your light in the house, the one constant that made everything else bearable.

"Vroom!" Emanuel zoomed a car across the bedspread, his dark hair falling into his eyes reminding you of his father. He glanced up at you. "y/n are you okay?" he asked. 

Your heart warmed at his caring personality, always attentive, gentle, and sweet. You smoothed a hand over his hair. "I'm fine, Manu. Just thinking that's all."

"You think a lot," he said innocently, his big brown eyes watching you just like his dads. "Daddy thinks a lot, too," he commented as he slid the car around. 

At the mention of Carlos, your stomach tightened. The memory of his anger after the incident still felt fresh, even though you knew he hadn't meant to lash out like that. He was protective of Emanuel, fiercely so, and in his world, the dangerous world that he lived in, fear often manifested as anger. But that didn't make the actions hurt any less.

Emanuel climbed into your lap, his little arms wrapping around you. You hugged him tightly, inhaling the familiar scent of his shampoo. You had been with him since he was just a baby, through every milestone. He was more than just your charge. He was like your own child, in some ways.

"Daddy's sorry, you know," Emanuel mumbled against your shoulder as if he could read my thoughts. "He told me."

You felt a pang in your chest. "I know, Manu." I kissed the top of his head. But knowing something wasn't the same as feeling it.

Carlos lingered in the hallway, just outside Emanuel's room. He could hear his son talking to you, and a pang of jealousy stirred within him. Emanuel was so open with you. There was something about the way you nurtured him, soothed him, that often made Carlos feel inadequate as a father.

He hadn't meant to overhear the conversation, but once he did, it was impossible to ignore the tightening in his throat. Emanuel was defending him, telling you that he was sorry. A child shouldn't have to do that. Carlos had to fix this now.

He knocked softly on the door before stepping inside. Emanuel beamed when he saw him.

"Daddy! Look! I made a race track!" he cheered excitedly. 

Carlos smiled, though his attention was more on you, who had quickly averted your eyes and stood, gently easing Emanuel off your lap.

"That's a great track, buddy," Carlos said, ruffling his son's hair. His tone was light, but his gaze stayed fixed on you, trying to gauge your reaction. 

You were quick to busy yourself by tidying up Emanuel's toys, your movements quiet and careful, as though your were trying to avoid him entirely.

"Y/n," Carlos called you, but you didn't meet his eyes.

"I'll give you two some time," You murmured, already heading toward the door.

Carlos's jaw tightened. He hated this distance, the way you were slipping away from him. The connection that had only just begun to get deeper it felt like it was fading. 

Before he could say anything else, you were gone, leaving him alone with Emanuel.

The next few days passed in a blur of careful avoidance. You were always around, tending to Emanuel, fulfilling your duties with the same love you always had. But with Carlos, you were different. 

You kept your distance, your words short and polite. It felt like a wall had been built between them, and every time Carlos tried to break through it, you retreated further.

But he didn't give up.

Little by little, he tried showing you how much you meant to him not with grand gestures, but with small, thoughtful acts. 

For example, one morning, he noticed you hadn't eaten breakfast before tending to Emanuel, so he left your favorite pastry on the kitchen counter, along with a note that simply read: 

For you. 

Love, Carlos. 

You hadn't said anything, but he saw the way your eyes softened just a little when you saw it.

Another time, he made sure to leave a fresh bouquet of flowers on the small table by the door you always passed when coming in from your afternoon walks with Emanuel. The flowers were the same kind you had mentioned in passing once, months ago, when you were cuddling together late at night, talking about nothing in particular. He remembered every detail.

Slowly, he began to break through. 

One evening, as the sun began to set, Carlos found you in the garden with Emanuel. The boy was chasing butterflies, his laughter filling the air. You sat on a bench, your gaze following Emanuel with that same tender smile that always seemed to grace your face when you were with him.

Carlos approached quietly, sitting beside you. You initially stiffened for a moment but didn't move away. A small victory Carlos thought.

"Y/n " he began softly. "I miss you."

Her hands stilled in her lap, her eyes fixed on Emanuel. "I'm here."

"You're here," he agreed, his voice low. "But not with me. Not like before."

You didn't answer right away. The silence stretched between you, heavy and charged. Finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "I guess I was more hurt than I let on, Carlos. When you yelled at me like that... I was terrified, wracked with guilt and I guess I expected... I expected a little comfort from you as well."

Carlos clenched his fists, the weight of his guilt settling over him like a suffocating blanket. "I know. I'm sorry. More than you know."

For the first time in days, you turned to look at him. His brown eyes were full of pain, but there was something else there too, something softer, more vulnerable. 

"It's not just about the yelling Carlos. It's about what it means. I care about Emanuel more than anything in this world, I wouldn't do anything to put him in harm's way intentionally and I would give my own life to protect him...and I thought you... trusted me."

"I do trust you," he said, his voice urgent. "With my life. With Emanuel's life. What happened... it just scared me. I reacted badly, but it wasn't because I didn't trust you. I panicked when I saw the scratch on Emanuel's head, when I saw you on the floor, I...I let fear take over."

Your expression softened slightly, though the tension in your posture remained. You studied him momentarily, your gaze searching his face for something, truth, perhaps. Understanding. Maybe both.

"I hate this," Carlos said quietly. "I hate seeing you like this. I hate that I hurt you. I don't want us to be like this. I need you back."

Your eyes shimmered, a ray of sun hitting your eyes perfectly as the sunset, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw a crack in the wall you had started building around yourself.

"I don't want that either," you admitted softly.

He reached out then, gently taking your hand in his, locking his fingers with yours. You didn't pull away, and the warmth of your skin against his felt like home.

"I'm not good at this," he said, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "But I want to be better, for you. For Emanuel. I care about you. More than I've let you know."

Your breath hitched slightly, your eyes widening. "Carlos..."

He squeezed your hand, his voice soft but firm. "I mean it. I love you."

For a moment, you just looked at him, your heart beating at lightning speed at his words. Then, slowly, she nodded. "Me too."

It was just two words, but to Carlos, it felt like everything.

From that moment on, things began to change. The distance between you gradually shrank, piece by piece. Carlos continued to show you, through quiet actions and gentle touches, how much you meant to him. He wasn't perfect, and there were still moments of tension, but you were finally moving forward together.

[0omillo0]

warnings: eating disorder, throwing up

angst ; comfort ;༊๋࣭

—————————————————————————

You’d been quieter lately. Seungmin had noticed it first in small ways: the way you would lose yourself in thought during dinner, the lingering sadness in your eyes when you thought no one was looking, the way you seemed to avoid food altogether. He watched you tonight from across the table, his heart sinking as you pushed your meal around on your plate, barely touching it.

“Not hungry?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light.

Your head snapped up, and you forced a small smile. “Oh, yeah… just not that hungry. It’s been a long day, I guess.”

He nodded, but a part of him didn’t believe you. You were always honest with him—except lately, there seemed to be something you couldn’t or wouldn’t say. He watched as you took a couple of bites, enough to satisfy his gaze before you put down your fork and excused yourself to your shared room.

“Don’t worry, I’ll clean up,” Seungmin called after you, sighing when he heard the bedroom door close. As he collected the dishes, he glanced at yours: half-eaten, barely touched.

For the next few nights, it was the same pattern: you would pick at your food, make up an excuse, and disappear as soon as dinner was over. You’d come back with your eyes red-rimmed, like you’d been crying. Seungmin had so many questions swirling in his mind, but he was hesitant to push you.

One evening, after another half-eaten meal, he waited until you went to the bathroom before standing outside the door, listening. He hated himself for it, feeling like he was invading your privacy, but he was desperate. Then he heard it—the faint sound of you crying and the unmistakable sound of retching.

His heart clenched, and he forced himself to wait. When you emerged, looking drained and pale, he was there, standing in the hallway. You jumped, clearly surprised to see him.

“Seungmin? I—what are you doing?”

His expression was soft, his voice barely a whisper. “Are you… okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, looking away. “I… just needed some air.”

“Air?” He took a step closer, his voice laced with concern. “I heard you. I know you’ve been throwing up, and I don’t understand why. Can you please talk to me?”

The gentle plea in his voice broke you, and before you knew it, tears were streaming down your face. You tried to wipe them away, embarrassed, but Seungmin caught your hands in his, pulling you close.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, voice muffled against his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

He rubbed your back soothingly, his other hand gently cradling the back of your head. “Hey, you don’t need to apologize. Just… help me understand. Please.”

You hesitated, pulling back slightly, but Seungmin’s gaze was so full of love and concern that it gave you the courage to speak.

“I just… I feel like I’m not enough,” you whispered, barely meeting his eyes. “I look at all these perfect girls on Instagram—models, influencers, all of them, and I just… I don’t look like that. I hate the way I look. I hate that I’m not…” Your voice trailed off, and a fresh wave of tears spilled over.

Seungmin’s face twisted in pain, his hands tightening around yours. “You think you’re not enough for me? Do you really believe that?”

“I just… I look at you, and you’re so perfect. You’re beautiful and talented, and I don’t know why you would even want someone like me,” you said, voice barely a whisper. “Every time I see those pictures, I just… I feel like I’m failing you. Like you deserve better.”

Seungmin’s face softened, and he pulled you closer, letting you rest your head on his chest. His voice was quiet but steady, filled with a kind of strength that you hadn’t realized you needed.

“I love you,” he whispered, his words firm. “I love you exactly as you are. You don’t have to look like anyone else or be anyone else for me. You’re already everything to me.”

You tried to respond, but the words were lost in a sob. He held you tightly, rubbing soothing circles on your back as you cried, his presence a balm to the raw wound of your insecurities.

After a few moments, he gently tilted your face up, looking into your eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “I would have been here for you. I would have helped you.”

“I didn’t want to burden you,” you mumbled. “I thought… maybe I could fix it on my own.”

Seungmin sighed, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “You don’t have to do that alone. I’m here with you. We’re in this together, remember? I need you to let me in.”

You took a shaky breath, nodding. “I’m sorry… I know it sounds silly.”

“It doesn’t,” he said quickly, his tone fierce. “Nothing you feel is silly. Your feelings matter to me.”

You searched his eyes, finding only warmth and compassion. A new wave of emotion washed over you, but this time it was one of relief—a relief so profound it almost took your breath away.

“You mean that?” you whispered.

“Of course I do.” He took your hand, his fingers entwining with yours. “We’re a team, right? Whatever you’re going through, whatever you feel… I want to know about it. I want to be there for you.”

For the first time in weeks, a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “I don’t deserve you.”

He let out a soft laugh, bringing your hand to his lips. “You deserve the world. And if you can’t see it, then I’ll just have to remind you every day until you do.”

The sincerity in his words made your heart swell, and you felt a warmth spread through you, like a light piercing through the dark cloud that had settled over you for so long. You squeezed his hand, a silent promise that you’d try—that you’d let him help you heal.

Over the next few days, Seungmin kept his promise. He was there for you every step of the way, watching you with that same gentle, steady love. He encouraged you, reminding you of all the things he adored about you, and slowly, you found yourself believing him.

It wasn’t an instant change; you still struggled. Some days were better than others, but Seungmin never wavered. And every time you started to doubt yourself, every time the old insecurities crept back, he was there, holding you, grounding you, reminding you of his love.

One evening, after a long day, you both sat on the couch, his arms wrapped around you as you leaned into his warmth. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“For what?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“For… for being here. For understanding.”

He hugged you tighter, his voice soft and comforting. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. And I’ll keep reminding you every day, as many times as you need, how much I love you.”

You looked up at him, your heart full, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a sense of peace—a peace that came from knowing you were truly loved, just as you were.

tag list : @intartaruginha @hannamoon143

[coffeeshades]

—true blue ⭑ part ii

summary: two strangers meet in a city of millions, only to discover they've been searching for each other all along.

pairing: pedro pascal x f!reader.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: age gap, angst, fluff, mentions of alcohol, loneliness, nostalgia. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: happy reading <3

Several weeks had passed since Pedro’s last letter, and your heart had fallen into a state of quiet, private anguish. At first, you waved it off—surely, he was busy; perhaps work had claimed his attention. It was only reasonable, you told yourself. Your own days were heavy with work; your nights were weighed down by the kinds of dreams that stretch between waking and sleep.

You expected his silence would soon be broken.

But as each day drew to a close without word from him, your soul grew restless, your mind endlessly rehearsing the contents of your last letter. Did you overstep some invisible boundary? Did he, perhaps, see the words on the page and find them lacking?

It was a mad habit, replaying the messages, re-reading them through imagined eyes. Had you given yourself away too soon, foolishly assuming some intimacy that perhaps had never been there?

Resigned, you finally abandoned any hope of hearing from him again.

One bright Saturday in late autumn, you sought solace in Hyde Park. The air was brisk, threading itself with the scent of dying leaves. In one hand, you clutched a warm pumpkin flavored coffee, and in the other, the last book Pedro had given you, its spine softened by countless touches, as though he’d read it a hundred times before sending it on to you. The vibrant red of your cardigan caught the eyes of passersby, a bright, defiant spot against the muted colors of the late autumn landscape.

As you walked, you saw the shapes of couples in the distance, silhouettes tangled together as they strolled or lingered under trees. You were reminded of those precious, everyday moments—of your friend's comforting calls, your patients’ murmured thanks at the end of long days, the warmth of those early letters exchanged with Pedro. Each of these small flashes of light is a reminder that life held joy even amid decay.

Yet even those small joys paled in comparison to what Pedro had come to represent to you. He was more than just a light; he had become the sun, his warmth reaching some part of you long-buried, awakening hope you’d thought lost forever. You clung to that hope, fragile as it was, in your steps.

And then, as if conjured by some unseen will, he appeared.

You saw him, standing near a tree talking on his phone, dressed much the same as the first time you’d met, only this time his glasses were different. Your heart raced, a sudden jolt of fear gripping you. You shouldn’t be scared—you’d been writing to him for weeks. You’d spilled your guts on paper, sharing things with him you hadn’t told anyone else. Talking to him shouldn’t be a big deal.

But it was.

You kept walking, hoping to avoid him, but then you heard it. Your name—deliciously spoken in his voice, rich and deep. You stopped dead in your tracks, heart hammering in your chest.

Your footsteps slowed, your pulse quickening as you turned. There he was, hands tucked into his pockets, his smile just as soft, as if he’d known all along that you’d appear there on that same path.

“I thought that was you,” he said, taking a few steps toward you.

It was all you could do to muster a reply, your voice an unsteady whisper against the gusts of wind. “You’ve only seen me once,” you stammered, “and you remembered me?”

A laugh, gentle and reassuring, rumbled from him as he replied, “You’re hard to forget.”

“Oh.”

It was the only word you could manage, your brain still trying to process the fact that he was here, in front of you.

He glanced down at the book in your hand. “How’s it going?” he asked, nodding towards it.

“I’m halfway through already. It’s fast-paced,” you replied, trying to keep your tone casual, even though your pulse was racing.

“Yeah, it is.” He smiled again. “You going somewhere?”

You glanced around, desperate to avoid his intense gaze. His brown eyes were impossibly warm, pulling you in. “Not really,” you said. “Just walking.”

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.”

From there, conversation flowed, interrupted only by the brisk autumn breeze, as if you hadn’t already shared your deepest thoughts in letters. He asked about your work, and when you told him you worked in healthcare, he teased, “Could you be a little more specific?”

You laughed. “I’m a doctor, actually.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “No way. That’s impressive. Beauty and brains.”

You blushed. Did he just—did he compliment you?

“It’s no big deal. I applied for a residency here a while ago, and now… here I am.”

“Where’d you go to med school?” he asked.

“New York,” you said, smiling softly. “Lived there my whole life.”

“Why not stay there?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “It sounds silly, but I always dreamed of escaping to somewhere new. Somewhere no one knew me.”

“And how’s that going for you?”

You laughed, glancing down at the ground. “Pretty lonely.”

He frowned. “Lonely?”

“Not much different from my life before,” you added quickly, feeling too exposed. You turned the conversation back to him. “What about you?”

“Uh, well, I’m…an actor,” he said with a shrug. “That's why I'm in London, filming a movie. Been here for a few months now.”

You bit your lip, feeling the weight of the moment stretching out between you. You had to say it. It had been gnawing at you since that first encounter—this unspoken truth, hovering between the lines of every letter you’d exchanged.

“I... I know who you are, by the way,” you blurted out, the words rushing out faster than you intended.

Pedro raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting into that familiar, crooked smile. “Oh?”

You nodded, suddenly shy, feeling your face grow warm. “Yeah. I mean, I wasn’t sure at first. You look different, a little. But then when you signed the first letter with your name, I was like, ‘Oh yeah, it’s him.’ And then I didn’t want to ruin it or make things weird, so I didn’t say anything, but maybe I should’ve? I don’t know, I—”

You rambled on, your voice a frantic mess as the words stumbled over themselves. Pedro watched you, his eyes crinkling in amusement, letting you spiral out without interrupting. His quiet, steady presence only made you more flustered, the way he seemed so completely at ease, while you felt like you were falling over your own sentences like an idiot.

“Hey,” he said gently, cutting into your monologue. “Slow down. It’s okay.”

“Is it?” You sighed, feeling the ridiculousness of your own nervous energy. “I just don’t want you to think I’m only talking to you because of… you know. Who you are.”

He seemed unsurprised, a knowing look in his eyes.

“I wouldn’t have kept this up if I thought it was just about… well, who I am,” he said, his tone softening. “Honestly, I was grateful for a reason to just… be myself.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, relieved. “Thank you. It’s just… I didn’t want to make it weird.”

“It’s not weird,” Pedro said, smiling again, but softer this time. “Actually, thank you for coming clean about it. If it makes you feel better, I knew you knew. I could tell.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Yeah, I’m not exactly subtle, am I?”

“No, but I like that about you,” he said, eyes glinting with warmth. “You’re refreshingly honest, even when you’re rambling.”

Your nerves melted just a little at his words, and everything felt easy again, just like in the letters.

The walk turned into an invitation to lunch, and soon enough, you found yourselves tucked into a cozy corner table at a little restaurant nearby. The place was warm, with soft lighting and wooden beams overhead, the air carrying the scent of fresh bread and something savory cooking in the back. It was intimate, inviting.

Pedro picked up the menu, scanning it briefly before glancing at you with a playful grin. “So, what’s your go-to order? Something pumpkin-flavored, I’m guessing?”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Ha ha. Only the coffee. But sure, I’ll embrace the autumn stereotype.”

“Nothing wrong with that. I had a pumpkin spice latte the other day—didn’t hate it.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I knew you were the type. All that rugged, cool guy persona? A front for your love of seasonal beverages.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “What can I say? I contain multitudes.”

Lunch came, and so did the conversation between bites of food and sips of wine.

At one point, Pedro started telling a story about his first audition, a disaster that involved a broken chair and spilled coffee, and you nearly choked on your drink from laughing so hard.

“And then,” he said, shaking his head, “the casting director just looked at me, deadpan, and said, ‘Well, that was memorable.’”

“Oh my god,” you gasped, wiping your eyes. “I would have died.”

“I nearly did,” he said, grinning. “But hey, I got the part. Pity, probably.”

“Or charm,” you said, raising your glass. “Here’s to charming your way through life.”

He clinked his glass with yours, the sound soft, like the connection between you.

A nameless, delicate thing.

Laughter faded, and the conversation settled into a more vulnerable rhythm. The weight of what you had said in your letters hung between you, an acknowledgment that this was more than just books and thoughts shared on paper. It had become a bridge—fragile, intimate, but undeniably real.

“I know what that’s like,” you said, breaking the silence, your voice softer now. You swirled the last of your wine in the glass, staring at it like the answer might rise up in the reflection. “To try to mold yourself to fit into someone’s life. To make yourself pliable, digestible... because you love them. Because you want them to love you back. But I realized… that’s useless. You can change everything about yourself and still not be enough. So why betray yourself?”

Pedro’s, warm and deep eyes seemed to catch the weight of your words and hold them for a moment before he spoke. “That’s... yeah, I get that. More than I care to admit.”

You bit your lip, immediately feeling exposed. “I’m sorry,” you added quickly, waving your hand in a dismissive gesture. “I didn’t mean to get all existential on you.”

He shook his head, his expression soft. “No, don’t apologize. It’s real. Honestly, it’s refreshing to talk about this stuff. It feels like people avoid these conversations, you know? Too much noise, not enough... depth.”

You nodded.

“And please don’t think I’m, like, dreadfully sad,” you added with a small, self-deprecating laugh. “I mean, yes, I am, but at the back of it, I promise there’s faith. There’s hope. And love. Lots of love.”

Pedro’s smile widened, just enough to deepen the creases at the corners of his eyes. "Same. I could tell from your letters."

"I don't know, I've always wanted this thing that's not quite love but something more."

“What is that?” he asked quietly, his voice dipping in a way that made the question feel more intimate, as if he already knew part of the answer.

You hesitated; the answer slipped out anyway. “To be understood.”

He didn’t speak right away, just took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving yours. His face was a map of tiny details you had already memorized in your letters—his dark hair streaked with silver, the subtle patches of white in his beard, more prominent under the soft light of the restaurant. His eyes crinkled at the corners, even when he wasn’t smiling, like someone who’d spent a lifetime both laughing and crying deeply. He carried it all with him—his history written in the lines on his face, in the way his hands moved slowly, thoughtfully.

“You know,” he began, setting his glass down, his voice low but steady, “there’s something from one of your letters that’s been stuck with me. When you wrote: ‘All I’ve ever known of love is how to live without it. I just can’t seem to find it.”

Your breath caught in your chest. You remembered writing those words late one night, fingers trembling as your pen hit the paper, thinking it might be too much to share. But now, hearing it come back to you in his voice, you realized it had struck him, too. Maybe he had been holding onto it, turning it over in his mind, just as you had.

“That…” he trailed off, shaking his head, his gaze falling to the table for a moment as if searching for the right words. “That hit me. I’ve been thinking about it ever since.”

You swallowed.

Pedro’s eyes met yours again, and this time, there was a quiet intensity behind them. “I do feel like that too,” he said simply. “I’ve felt that way for a long time.”

There was a pause. Not the awkward kind, but the heavy kind—the kind where things shift, where you realize the other person is carrying the same scars you’ve spent a lifetime hiding.

“I’ve always been good at feeling things deeply,” he continued, his voice growing quieter, more reflective. “Too deeply, maybe. And with love… it’s like this paradox, you know? You want to be loved for who you are, but you end up bending yourself into knots, just trying to be enough for someone else. And when it doesn’t work, you wonder what you did wrong. Why you weren’t enough.”

He exhaled, rubbing a hand through his dark hair, the streaks of white catching in the light. “I’ve been in relationships where I thought, ‘This is it, this is love,’ but it wasn’t. I was just... fitting myself into someone else’s idea of love. And I don’t think I’ve ever let someone really see me. Not like this.”

You sat in silence for a moment, his words hanging in the air between you. There was something profoundly human about his confession. He wasn’t just a famous face or a larger-than-life presence. He was a person, flawed and searching, just like you.

“I think that’s what scares me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “That maybe I’ve never been seen either. Not really.”

Pedro looked at you then, and there was something in his eyes that made your heart thud harder in your chest—a softness, a recognition, like he understood you in ways you hadn’t even begun to understand yourself.

“I see you,” he said quietly, his voice steady, no trace of hesitation.

You blinked, feeling your throat tighten, not trusting yourself to speak. For a moment, neither of you said anything. The world outside the restaurant—Hyde Park with its autumn chill, the bustling streets of London—faded away. It was just the two of you sitting at that small table, the space between you shrinking.

Pedro leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his fingers brushing the rim of his glass absentmindedly. “And what if,” he said, his voice low, “what if love isn’t something you have to find? What if it’s already here? In these moments, in the quiet spaces between words?”

Your heart fluttered, the weight of his gaze anchoring you to the moment. He wasn’t just talking about love as an abstract concept. He was talking about this—the connection between you, the letters, the words that had brought you both to this place.

And suddenly, you realized that you weren’t just yearning for love. You were already in it, knee-deep, feeling everything so deeply you hadn’t even noticed.

You smiled, a soft, tentative thing. “Maybe we’re both learning what love looks like.”

Pedro’s lips curved into a small smile, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like you weren’t alone in your search.

You were here, in the mess of it. And that was enough.

a/n: don't forget to like, reblog or comment! and remember my ask is always open, would love to hear your thoughts!

next part should be up soon!!

[f1writingbyme]

Hi everyone,

This is one of the hardest things I’ve ever written, and I never thought I’d be sharing something so deeply personal. But here I am, reaching out, hoping that someone else out there might understand this journey, this longing, this ache that I’m carrying. I don’t have a big following, so I don’t know if this will reach many people, but if there’s a chance it connects with even one person who’s been through something similar, it’ll be worth it.

My boyfriend and I have been trying to start a family. For over two years, we tried before finally going to our GP, who sent us straight to a clinic. It’s been a year of treatments now, a year of hopeful highs and crushing lows. We tried IUI (intrauterine insemination) four times – four times our hopes rose and fell. Then we turned to ICSI (intracytoplasmic Sperm Injection) because “traditional” IVF wasn’t an option for us.

When I had my egg retrieval, they collected a lot of eggs, but only four turned into embryos. Four. Just four chances to hold onto this dream.

Today, we found out that none of those embryos made it. We’re back to square one. All those hormone shots, every bruise, every drop of blood, every ultrasound, all the mood swings, the endless hoping and praying – only to have to start from scratch. I can’t describe the exhaustion, both physically and emotionally. You go through the medications, the appointments, waiting, and waiting, just to start all over again. It feels like it’s breaking me.

We’re going to try again because we still hold onto this hope of having a baby together. But we also have to face the reality that it may never happen, and that thought shatters my heart. Watching others around me get pregnant, hearing news of new babies… it’s so hard to see, and it fills me with a mix of sadness and anger that I can’t even fully explain. I don’t want to feel this way, but it’s the truth.

I feel so alone in this. None of my close friends or family have faced something like this. I’m reaching out here, hoping to find someone who understands, someone who has been through this kind of pain and hope and heartbreak. I feel like I could just disappear, like the ground could open up and take me in, but here I am, holding onto a sliver of hope that one day, somehow, I’ll get to hold a little miracle in my arms. Until then, I’m trying my best to be patient, even when it feels like it’s breaking me.

I want to thank @lestappenforever, my best friend in the entire world, for being my rock through all of this, even from miles away. You never push, you never overwhelm me with questions — you’re just there, right when I need you. That kind of support means more to me than I can put into words. I love you. ❤️❤️❤️

I don’t know if anyone going through the same thing will see this, but if you do, please reach out. I’m here to talk, to listen, to be there for you, but also to share my story.

You’re not alone in this. Please hold onto that. ❤️

I'm going to be a lot less active on here. I'm sorry for that (if anyone cares) but I need some time to myself. Mona and I will be back on the 1st of December with something fucking amazing which I hope you all love ❤️ I want to thank you all for your support and I love you all.

[lynnsartsworld]

Hi Lynn!!💓💓

Some questions for April:

1) What’s your favorite thing about Poppy?

2) What’s your favorite memory?

3) What’s your family like?

Love, myokk💓💓 (can’t send messages from a sideblog😆)

Question for One:

April’s Reaction:

April’s cheeks flush with a warm smile as she reads the question. Her fingers brush over the words, and she giggles softly, looking a bit bashful yet delighted. “Oh, I love this question! It’s so sweet! Of course, I’d love to talk about Poppy.”

April’s Answer:

“My favorite thing about Poppy? That’s hard because there’s so much I love about her! But if I had to pick one thing, I’d say it’s her kindness. She has this gentle, quiet way of caring for everyone around her, like she just knows when someone needs a bit of extra love or support. It’s one of those things that makes you feel safe and understood, you know? And she has this wonderful way of making any moment feel special. She’s truly one of a kind, and I’m so grateful to have her in my life.”

She pauses, smiling to herself as she thinks of Poppy, the fondness clear in her eyes.

✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱

Question for Two:

April’s Reaction:

April’s eyes light up as she reads the question, and a soft, nostalgic smile spreads across her face. She takes a moment, lost in thought, before a memory clearly surfaces, making her eyes shimmer with happiness.

April’s Answer:

“My favorite memory? Oh, that’s a tough one because there are so many wonderful moments. But if I had to choose, it would be this quiet, cozy night with Poppy. We’d been out all day, just exploring and enjoying ourselves, and by the time we got back, we were exhausted. We made hot chocolate, curled up under a big blanket, and just talked for hours. It wasn’t about anything grand or exciting—it was just us, being close, laughing, and sharing little secrets. It felt so special and comforting, like time had slowed down just for us. I think those simple, heartfelt moments are the ones that stay with me the most.”

April sighs softly, hugging her arms around herself as she recalls the warmth of that night, a sweet glow of happiness lingering.

✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱

Question for Three:

April’s Reaction:

April’s face lights up with warmth as she thinks about her little family. Her eyes soften, and she places a hand over her heart, clearly filled with love and gratitude.

April’s Answer:

“My family… where do I even begin? Poppy is just everything. She’s my best friend, my love, my anchor. She’s so caring and thoughtful, always knowing just how to make me feel safe and cherished. And then there’s Evangeline, our little light. She’s curious and sweet, with a smile that can brighten any room. I see so much of Poppy in her—the same kindness and spark. The three of us together, we’re this wonderful mix of love, laughter, and the occasional chaos that comes with raising a little one. I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. It’s… home.”

April’s smile widens, and she glances away, her cheeks slightly pink, as if she’s still amazed that this is the family she’s built and the life she’s been blessed with.

✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱∴✱∵✱

April lets out a playful sigh of relief, a little grin on her face.

“Wow, I think that’s a wrap for now!” she laughs. “Those questions really made me think, but I loved answering every single one. It was like this little chance to share my heart, you know? And honestly, if anyone has more questions, I’d be happy to answer them. This was fun!”

She glances around with a bright smile, already eager for whatever else might come her way.

[night-night-stories-before-bed]

As one

Warning ⚠️; None, for once

Pairing; Barry Allen/Male!Reader

Summary; Barry wasn't the only speedster made that night; there were you as well. But what no one saw coming was the bond that was created between you.

Note; a little Barry/male reader story for y'all! I wanted some soulmate like story so I made one!

~~~~~~~~~~

Eversince that storm, eversince you were hit by lightning, you were able to run faster than anyone else. So fast that you could run on water and on the faces of buildings. You had to be careful still to not burn your clothes or shoes and needed to eat enough calories to not pass out.

But there was something else happening. Each time you ran, you felt a pull as if someone or something was trying to call you somewhere. Like a magnet while you were a piece of metal. It was a longing for something you didn't know, like a piece of you was missing.

One day, you couldn't take it anymore and just ran. You ran following the pull and didn't stop, no matter how many rivers or forests you traversed. It wasn't long until you reached a city you heard of months ago; Central City.

There, the pull was stronger, almost asphyxiating.

You walked around, not wanting to use your powers and risk being discovered. The city was calm, especially at night. It felt strangely familiar to you like a scene from a dream.

You soon found a small apartment and a good job, allowing you to live there until you understood what had pulled you there. To your surprise, Central City wasn't a peaceful place. Meta-humans like you often attacked the city as various villains. Sometimes robbers or murderers even both!

And then there was the local hero.

The red flash.

The first time you saw him, you felt the air fill with electricity as if a lightning storm was about to happen. All around you time seemed to freeze as the Flash passed in front of you. For a fraction of a second you thought you shared a look, but before you could confirm he was gone.

After that, you felt empty and cold. Your body would shiver and spam by moment and it was almost as if you were in withdrawal. Which was stupid, you couldn't get drunk and most drugs didn't affect you. It took a few days, but then you were back to normal.

During that time you noticed that the Flash was also missing. He wasn't seen until you felt better. You wondered if it was a coincidence. But it was impossible. Why would the hero be down at the same time as you? Why would you two be down in the first place?

Then you noticed people following you. Three in particular, two men and one woman. They weren't discreet at all and you almost wanted to confront them. Almost. Because one in particular caught your attention; the tallest man. Each time you would come across him you would feel the same electricity as when you saw the Flash.

Then one day you touched and to your surprise, you got electrocuted. A little squeak left you while the man almost jumped away. You stood still, eyeing each other in shock.

- “I’m so sorry! I don't know why that happened.” the stranger said, looking at your hand.

- “It's fine, but I would like to know why you've been following me around with your friends.”

You almost laughed seeing the expression on the man's face. Clearly, he didn't think you had noticed them. Again, he excused himself profusely which made you laugh this time.

- “Well, can I get the name of my stalker?” You asked amused.

- “Barry, Barry Allen.” The stranger presented himself, passing a hand in his hair awkwardly.

With Barry, you went somewhere more private and he got you some food. As you ate he explained why he and his friends had been following you; they suspected you were a meta-human.

They were right.

For some reason, you trusted Barry immediately and told him everything; how you were hit by lightning and gained superspeed then the strange pull that forced you to come to Central City. To your surprise, Barry had the same story. Exactly the same, except he resisted the pull until the day you first shared a look.

Because Barry was the Flash.

To say you were astonished would be an euphemism.

Why was a hero stalking you? Why was he and his friends curious about your statue as a meta-human? So many questions and they were all worrying to you.

Barry of course saw your reaction and tried to calm you down and reassure you, but no matter how safe you felt with him you couldn't deny how fuck up the situation was. So you did the only sane thing that came to your mind; you ran away.

You didn't expect Barry to follow you, but he did. He ran by your side, begging for you to listen to him. As you danced around each other, running throughout the city, Barry begged for your for forgiveness again, but you didn't want to hear it. You knew he captured villains and you didn't want to end up in a cage.

So you kept running, trying to escape the city and Barry kept following you. It was strange how natural it felt running with him, like breathing. You didn't want it to ever stop and to your surprise, you somehow beat your personal speed record.

The pull was at its strongest too as air filled with more and more electricity. You could feel it crawling on your skin like thousands of spiders. As you looked at Barry, you could tell he felt the same euphoria.

Running with Barry was like a drug and it scarred you.

You stopped in an abandoned building, Barry by your side. You were both panting, but not because you were out of breath, but because of the feeling you got by running by each other side. Barry's pupils were dilated, making his eyes almost fully black and animalistic and you knew you weren't better.

You didn't move when Barry walked closer to you and closed your eyes as he grabbed your arms and pressed your foreheads together. Breathe shivering, you melted against Barry just like he did against you. The pull was gone, leaving only a feeling of unity between Barry and you.

You felt as one with Barry.

- “Please, come with me. Don't leave, I am begging you to stay with me.” Barry whispered, his breath tickling your lips. “Come with me, I have people to present to you and who are eager to meet you.”

- “Okay… okay…” You replied, voice barely audible.

S.T.A.R. Labs were different that what you had imagined. The building was huge but empty and it felt as if you were walking in an open tomb. People have died because of this place just like others have become meta-humans like you. Criminals and Heroes rising because of a preventable explosion.

Barry stood by your side as you walked the empty corridors and he didn't leave your side as he introduced you to his friends. Caitlin and Cisco had a good sense of being ashamed and remorseful when you pointed out that you knew they had been following you. Even with their actions, you still found them friendly.

Cisco won you when he showed you the suit he made just for you. The same as the Flash but in a different colour. With it, you'll be able to run as fast as you want without ruining your clothes or shoes. You would be able to assist Barry as a hero.

But the one person who caught your attention was Dr Wells.

Unlike with Barry, the man gave you the creeps and you wanted nothing more than to run as far away from him as possible. The way he looked at you and Barry made you uncomfortable. He was like a predator wondering what prey to devour first. Yet you could only stay as he hypothesized about the bond between you and Barry.

- “You two are like magnets, attracting each other and amplifying your capacities. Fascinating!” He had said, sending shivers down your spine. “You two must have connected by being struck by lightning at the same time. I wonder how deep that bond goes.”

Feeling your uneasiness, Barry had taken you to his place. Meeting Joe West was a pleasure and the man welcomed you with open arms as he knew about Barry's second identity. No, the only one who met you with hostility was his daughter Iris. Even tho she was seeing someone, you could see the jealousy and envy in her eyes.

She didn't approve of you and let it be known even if Barry and you weren't nothing yet. You knew right then that she loved Barry more than a “brother” no matter if she was promised to someone else. But you didn't care. Barry had only eyes for you just like you for him.

Everyone knew that with time you two would let your relationship evolve. If for now, you were friends and partners, soon you would be more. You just wanted to take the time to learn about each other, not wanting to let the bond force you together and that was the best decision you could make.

And no matter the adversity you had each other back and stood as one against the world.

[chuunyu]

Honestly, I find Mizuki relatable for the reasons a lot of people have said they can't relate to them. This isn't to put down anyone, I just wanna share my thoughts too cause other perspectives are interesting ^^

For context, I'm an afab nonbinary lesbian, and I present fairly feminine most days but I am transneutral. I have an accepting family and awesome friends who I know would support me.

The problem is that I'm always scared to come out. Specifically scared of *how things will change,* just like Mizuki is. I don't want people to awkwardly try to acknowledge my transness in regular conversation, or to try to be extra nice because they view me differently but want to pretend that nothing at all has changed, I just want to be the same old me that I always have been. I felt seen by their story in a way I haven't by a lot of other queer media- the anxiety of coming out not being tied to a lack of acceptance but to the *almost* imperceptible way things change and the sudden feeling of being different where you weren't before, especially if everybody around you is cis. It's scary and I think Mizu5, and Mizuki in general, capture that perfectly

Oh huh, I wouldn't have assumed there'd be that kind of appeal to someone who isn't amab transfem.

It makes me think about how actually maybe Mizuki's character being focused on acceptance and nothing else actually helps broaden their appeal, despite still having the complexities that come with being amab.

In general, Mizuki could be relatable for anyone who's fem but has some aspect to themself that others them from "normal" women. For example, being intersex and having that information get out. Really anyone queer can relate to the whole thing of fake acceptance and fear of change.

And that makes me think that actually Mizuki's character is maybe less... imperfect like I've said before and more-so that they were designed really well. They're a character that isn't just accessible by transfems and I think that, that's powerful.

From the two asks I've gotten, I've noticed that people really appreciate or relate to Mizuki despite not fully seeing themself in them. I think that's really interesting, but I don't really know what to say about it exactly.

When I think about the issues that come with Mizuki's acceptance, I think about attitudes towards amab people and their friendships with women. As someone who's been othered by most women in my life outside of when they've wanted to date me, the ways I think about how Mizuki's friendships would change after coming out is very particular. There's always this assumption that amab people are predators and terfs apply that heavily onto trans people. When I see Mizuki after mizu5, that's one of the big things that I think of and maybe it'll be important in the story, maybe it won't (it probably won't). That's a part of how I relate to their situation though. Mizuki being villainized, like, you know, the song,, lol

idk

I think it's cool that there are so many angles of relation to Mizuki! I think it's really cool.

[bookwyrminspiration]

I did the quick Fitz edit for my own curiosity to determine if what I thought was odd to me was, in fact, what I thought it was, but it was rude of me to post like that as though I was fixing the drawing. It came across negatively and judgmental of the artist and new cover, which was not my intention. So for that, my apologies. I can’t promise not to do something unthinking like that again, as I make mistakes, but I can try to be more cognizant and clear going forward :)

[forzathunder]

"I have many fears, most of them about Lucrezia." — Cesare Borgia (The Borgias, 2011-2013) + hints of insecurity

that she adores someone that much / if she will reject his dark nature and act of love and violence as Ursula did / if he truly is not part of her desires / that she easily forgets him

[imavikingo]

I said this in tags on another post, but it’s relevant and deserves its own post (I should be reading my usual pre- sleeping fic selection, BUT! I had this revelation -being sleepy is useful once again! -)

They NEEDED Steve to disappear, to be gone. To never care about Bucky anymore. That way they could treat Bucky as they see fit, and that means treating him like shit.

Steve would NEVER accept or allow Bucky to make amends, he would NEVER let the government take care of Bucky or be part of his “rehabilitation” in any way shape or form. That’s why he became Nomad, that’s why Bucky stayed in Wakanda. He would had fight with teeth and nails for Bucky.

“He died already more than once! He was a victim! A prisoner of war. He saved the fucking universe. What the fuck do you mean with amends!”

He became a wanted criminal for that same reason, to not let them have Bucky (nor other people in a fucking watchlist)

They needed Steves relationship with Bucky to become bitter, to be nothing more than a memory.

Steve being in retirement wouldn’t have cut it and…

Bucky was always going to follow Steve, no matter what.

So they needed him to stay alone (or with a companion that didn’t really care as much as Steve, enter Sam)

This way they killed two birds with one stone in Endgame: Reinforcing Steves “love” for Peggy, because “he’s NOT gay, you guys!”, and the partial isolation of Bucky.

[demigod-shenanigans]

I’ll answer the Harley stuff first because I may or may not have a snippet for the Piper one ;)

So, I feel like in Fate verse (I’m just gonna call it that, series title for that series of oneshots is “fate and other technicalities”), Harley’s siblings (especially Nyssa) tried to make sure he didn’t see Leo when things were really bad early on. They let him know Leo was hurt, because the whole Leo blowing himself up and Jason carrying into the infirmary missing a leg and covered in ash was kind of a big deal that would have been hard to miss, and they let him know that Leo is going to be okay, but they don’t want Harley going to the infirmary while Leo is still out cold.

Harley insists he wants to see him and probably sneaks in. Curses at poor sleep-deprived Jason that he should have protected Leo better but Jason already feels like it’s his fault and him just agreeing that it’s his fault actually doesn’t help Harley feel better so he just kind of pats Jason’s arm awkwardly and apologizes. They just kind of sit there together for a bit and Harley squeezes Leo’s hand and tells him to wake up and that he’s stupid and then darts out again (it’s all a lottt for such a little kid)

I also like to think that the ring/fold-out crutches were Harley’s idea. Hc that maybe he had an injured leg at some point during the whole Hephaestus cabin curse business and remembers how annoying it was figuring out where to put the crutches when he wasn’t using them, so he didn’t want Leo to have to deal with that, and all of his siblings come together to help to make the crutches.

He’s the one presenting them to Leo totally claiming he made them all by himself and Nyssa lightly raises an eyebrow at him and he sighs and goes “I guess the others helped, too” and Leo just laughs and ruffles his hair

A lot of what you’re asking regarding Piper will be saved for tchig, and I can’t go into that too much for spoiler reasons, but I do have a Piper WIP that’s a sort of companion fic to tchig and takes place at the same time as Leo’s little… trip, so I’ll share a preview from that! (Obviously this takes place bit later than we are in the current tchig timeline, so there’s some slight spoilers in this snippet)

“The demigod you’re trying to reach is currently outside of my service area. Please try again later,” a tinny voice sounded through the rainbow.

“What do you mean, he’s outside your service area?” Piper asked, struggling to keep her voice calm.

She was trying not to cry.

Not being able to reach Leo wouldn’t have freaked her out on most days—he’d told her he needed some space to process things, and as much as she wished that wasn’t the case, she understood—but today of all days, it was just too much. “Thank you for choosing the Iris Messaging service,” the voice from the rainbow continued, ignoring her question. It was fucking recording. “If you would like to end the call, please press red. If there is anyone else you’d like to contact-”

Piper did cry, then. Forget not crying in front of the stupid rainbow goddess. She couldn’t help the sobs building in her chest. Couldn’t help the way her thoughts spiraled. What if something had happened to Leo? What if, after everything they’d been through, she’d lost him, too? If she’d gotten him back just to immediately have him ripped away from her again?

A little over three months ago, Piper had cradled Jason’s lifeless body in her arms after a mission gone awry.

She’d gotten better at dealing with the grief and the memories since Hazel and Frank had gotten her in contact with a therapist—a child of Bacchus that Piper didn’t have to hold anything back from. Talking to her helped. But a few months weren’t enough to heal the kind of grief that came with losing a section of your heart.

Piper hadn’t loved Jason the way she’d initially thought she did, but she had loved him. He’d been her best friend. When they’d lost Leo, having Jason to hold her through it had been the only thing keeping Piper sane. Jason, who was a terminal optimist and believed against all odds that Leo was okay—that he had to be okay, because he was Leo, and there was nothing he couldn’t do if he set his mind to it.

And Jason had been right. Leo was okay. But he hadn’t lived to be reunited with him.

Leo had taken it the hardest out of anyone. They were all grieving in their own ways, but Leo had shut down completely. Piper hadn’t seen him cry much before it had happened. Leo joked his way through most situations with worryingly practiced ease. To an extent, he’d still done that with Jason’s death. But he’d also sobbed into Piper’s shoulder until his voice failed him. He’d cried a lot during the weeks he’d stayed with her, and more in most Iris Messages after.

Piper couldn’t imagine what it was like to only realize you were in love with someone after they’d been ripped away from you for good.

But she was grieving, too. She would have held Leo through it all, if only he had let her.

So! If anyone would like to be distracted/cheered up a little please feel free to send me some short valgrace/lost trio prompt and I’ll try to write a drabble or do some headcanons or something. Sfw stuff only please but otherwise I’m good with pretty much anything request-wise

[lloydfrontera]

mmhh. javier had to wait ninety years to see lloyd once more while lloyd spent three years thinking he would never see javier again. what do you think hurt most. waiting a lifetime with the knowledge you'll see the person you treasure the most at some point or spending what you know will be your last couple years of life without the hope of ever seeing the one person you never thought you'd have to live without.

[galacticlamps]

I just wanted to apologize to my classic whotuals for all the dead boy detectives spamming, but it's also important to me that you guys know two things:

a) I've become aware that a lot of what appeals to me about dead boy detectives is, on a kind of conceptual/thematic level, the same stuff that I love about my favorite eras of dr who, and 6b in particular

And I tell you this not as an advertising tactic but as a genuine PSA for anyone following me because:

b) Being me & having realized this, I know I'm definitely gonna wind up posting some unnecessarily long-winded analysis/comparison, pop it in the main tags for the sake of organization on my own blog, and subsequently confuse a hell of a lot of people there who either have no idea what I'm talking about or simply don't view either piece of media in the same light as I do to begin with

So I just wanted to reassure everyone that at least you're not suffering alone, as I will soon be inflicting the reverse bait-and-switch upon others!

That's all! continue w ur scrolling <3

[izuom]

apologies in advanced for interrupting anyone’s evening or cozy bedtime or subway ride to works but insta isn’t safe for me now 💀 wdym i’m getting online-ly mol*st*d by a fake acc?

[suffewingowo]

.

[lgbtlunaverse]

I've seen a good number of people ask a question along the lines of "why do characters like Falin and hate Laios when they're so similar?" and i've also seen good analysis on the differences in how the touden siblings carry themselves that would, despite their shared traits, make a person gravitate to one more than the other.

But i feel like we've overseen one very central thing here.

People don't like Falin

Like... the average person in dungeon meshi doesn't like Falin. She was deeply ostrasized by her home village, in magic school she had zero friends before Marcille and the others generally saw her as strange and a bit offputting.

Characters like Namari and Chilchuck like her well enough but not necessarily more than any other member of their party, including Laios. Neither Kabru nor his party think much of her. The canaries don't give a fuck about her. Toshiro's retainers don't see her as anything else than the weird foreign girl their boss has a crush on.

The reason we think everyone loves Falin is because, despite all the indifferent side characters, the 2 most important and central characters of the story are Laios and Marcille. Who are NOT representative of the average attitudes to Falin! But necromancy georg number 1 and 2 are our main eyes into the story and they love Falin so much that it colours our perspective of the whole world.

The only side character who qualifies as liking Falin and not Laios is Toshiro (at least at first, as he ends the story on much better terms with Laios) and that says a lot about his character, with him drifting to the quiet Falin precisely because of her oddness but being both uncomfortable with and deeply jealous of Laios' much more open expression of that oddness. Because he's a repressed guy from a culture where etiquette is incredibly important.

But like I said, that's a specific aspect of him, not to the world at large.

Because there's also people that click more with laios than with Falin.

Kabru, for one, who is initially distrustful of laios but clearly also deeply fascinated by him and drawn to him.

Minor spoilers, and you don't have to read too deeply into this, because I don't think Kabru particularly dislikes Falin or anything. But it's interesting that when he talks about his distrust of the toudens in ch.32 he's talking about them both. But his big friendship declaration in chapter 76 is aimed squarely at Laios, he doesn't say "you and your sister" he says "you"

And Senshi!! He instantly clicks with Laios, well before he does so with anyone else in the party– who he also becomes friends with, it just takes a bit longer– specifically because they bond over their shared special interest in monsters!! Senshi is kind towards Falin and cares for her wellbeing, but he also... doesn't know her. The reason he is even here, helping to save her, is because he and Laios bonded over monsters and he wants to help his new friends out!

Of course, the theme of neurodivergent isolation is very present in Laios' story. I'm not denying that. He does turn people off, without meaning to and unable to fully understand why! But so does Falin. And just like there are people who like her despite of or even because of those traits, there are people who do the same with him.

In conclusion: "Average person loves Falin and hates Laios" factoid actually statistical error. Average person is neutral on both Falin and Laios. Georcille, Laiorg and Geoshiro, who live in the dungeon and think over 10,000 Falin-loving thoughts a day, are statistical outliers adn should not have been counted.