#but I watched the rain fight scene again and I thought about it and I just really needed to make this for my own personal satisfaction

[emily-mooon]

✨Super Graphic Ultra Modern Rain Fight Scene✨🌈⛈️

(Credit to @/lucystark12 as they did this originally but playing them as two separate videos. I just wanted to combine them into one video :])

[thedemoninme141]

It doesn't matter. (anon asks)

Pairings: Wednesday x Female reader.

Theme: Angst. Warnings: Discussions of suicide, depression.

Wordcount: 3.5k.

Wednesday sat on the railing of her balcony, her legs hanging over the edge, boots scraping against the cold stone.

Enid was sleeping softly in her side of the dorm. Peaceful. Oblivious. Even Thing had curled up on his little makeshift bed, unmoving, trusting that she would do nothing drastic. They thought they understood her.

They thought she was above weakness, above fragility.

Fools.

She had studied death. Pored over it. Dissected its meanings, its finality, its inevitability. She had wielded it in her hands like a sharpened blade, used it as a threat, a weapon, a fascination. But now, she wondered: was a fall from this height truly lethal? Would her bones shatter on impact? Or would she suffer, twitching on the cold stone until the void finally claimed her?

The world below seemed so far away, yet so close. A single misstep, a slight shift in weight, and she would no longer be perched between life and death, she would simply fall.

She had read about people who had jumped. Some regretted it before they hit the ground. Some had died on impact, their bodies broken beyond recognition. Some had lived, haunted by the knowledge that they had failed at escaping.

Would she regret it?

A foolish question. She didn’t believe in regret. She believed in action.

It didn’t matter.

It really didn’t matter.

She sat in the quad, her fingers curled over the spine of a book she had long since stopped reading. Her dark eyes were fixed on a single point across the courtyard.

You. It had been a year since she talked to you, that day.

She was watching you again.

Why?

She didn’t know.

She wasn’t even aware of when it started.

You were reading. Or, at least, you had been.

Now, your book was gone, ripped from your hands by a sneering group of students who thought themselves superior. She had seen this before. Watched from a distance. The same group. The same scene, playing out like a wretched cycle. A hand shoved at your shoulder, another voice laughed in your face. Your lips pressed into a thin line, your fingers curling into fists, but you did not fight back.

You never did.

You had been like this for a while now, silent, withdrawn, smaller. You never stood close to her anymore, hadn't been for the past year since that day. You never hovered near her anymore.

It wasn’t the first time she had seen this.

She had been seeing you, as you closed yourself from.. everything.

Wednesday could end it.

It would be easy. A single glare, a few well-placed words, and they would scatter like cockroaches under a harsh light. She could terrify them, send them running, make them regret every second they had spent trying to break you down.

But how could she?

How could she, when she had done the same to you?

The wind was colder now, biting at her skin as she sat motionless on the railing. Wednesday didn’t move, didn’t blink, only stared at the ground below. She understood now. Why you had chosen her. It wasn’t because you were fascinated by her, nor because you admired her, no, you did admire her but not in the way the others did.

The Hyde investigation had reached a standstill.

Wednesday gritted her teeth, Yesterday’s rain had washed away what could have been critical evidence. It was infuriating. She hated inefficiency, hated wasting time, hated failure.

And then there was you.

Trailing behind her like a shadow, quiet but persistent.

“…Maybe it’s not someone from this school at all, but an outsider?” Your voice was soft, hesitant, barely loud enough to rise above the sound of her footsteps.

Wednesday didn’t reply. Her mind was a swirling storm of deductions, dead ends, and mounting irritation.

“I mean… you’re so smart, Wednesday. I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon.”

A compliment. Empty words, spoken with sincerity, but meaningless in the grand scheme of things.

Wednesday stopped walking.

“Stop talking.”

Her voice was flat, sharp, laced with barely contained irritation.

She didn’t have time for this.

You flinched, but you didn’t leave. Instead, you simply adjusted the grip on your notebook, as if grounding yourself, as if trying to take up less space. Your footsteps became softer, your presence dimming, but still there.

Still following.

Still clinging.

By the time they reached the main hallway, the low hum of students passing through only made the irritation coil tighter inside her chest. The voices, the movement, the constant press of bodies—it was suffocating.

And then—

“…I could help if you need someone to brainstorm with…”

She still doesn't understand what was wrong in that sentence that caused her to lash out.

Wednesday stopped abruptly.

You hadn’t been expecting it. You barely had time to react before you bumped into her shoulder, the force of it barely anything, but it sent a fresh wave of irritation through her already frayed nerves.

She spun around, her hand latching onto your arm before she shoved you against the nearest wall.

“You are insufferable.”

Your back hit the cold stone, you froze, your notebook still clutched to your chest.

“Do you not understand the concept of personal space?” Her voice was rising now, sharp enough to cut. “Or basic social cues? How many more insults will it take to penetrate that thick skull of yours and make you realize I am not interested in your pathetic attempts at friendship?”

She remembers she noticed it.

The way your eyes flickered around, the way you took in the students stopping, whispering, watching.

She didn’t care back then.

“I don’t care about your feelings. I don’t care about your problems. And I certainly don’t care about your pitiful attempts to get closer to me.” Her voice was ice, unwavering, merciless. “So why don’t you do us both a favor and stay the hell away from me?”

She didn’t wait for a reaction.

Didn’t wait to see the way your fingers trembled around the edges of your notebook.

She just turned and walked away.

And now, sitting on the railing of her balcony, she understood.

You had clung to her because she was a wall, an impenetrable fortress of indifference and cruelty, and as long as you stayed near her, no one else could touch you. No one else could hurt you.

You weren’t trying to befriend her. You were trying to survive.

She had been your shield.

You had felt safe around her.

Safe.

Wednesday stood outside your dorm, the same day she had watched as they surrounded you, as they tossed your book aside like it was worthless, as you stood there and did nothing, accepted it like it was as natural as breathing.

And now she was here, because… because what? Because she felt responsible? Because she had spent a year noticing the silence you left in your absence? Because something about the way you had looked, empty, resigned—had made something inside her twist unpleasantly?

Her hand hovered for only a second before she knocked twice.

“Wednesday?” you asked, your voice quiet, indifferent.

Wednesday opened her mouth, then closed it.

She had spent the past hour deliberating over this moment, she had thought of this moment in her head, had run through different variations of how this conversation might go, but now, standing in front of you, she realized she had no idea what to say.

She expected—no, she had prepared for—the possibility of anger, of bitterness. Perhaps even avoidance, a door slammed in her face, a sharp remark thrown back at her in retaliation for last year.

But this?

This quiet, unreadable calm?

It made her skin crawl.

How can she bring this up? How could she string together words that didn’t sound weak, didn’t make her feel foolish?

You tilted your head slightly, waiting. Then, after a beat, “Do you need something?”

Wednesday finally forced herself to speak.

“I saw some students bothering you today,” she said, her voice clipped. “Why didn't you even try to fight back?"

It was a simple question. A reasonable one. And yet, the moment she said it, something in your expression shifted.

You looked… surprised.

As if the very idea of someone asking had never even crossed your mind.

Then, slowly, you smiled. A sad, small thing that barely touched your eyes. "It doesn't matter. I'm used to it."

Wednesday studied you carefully, but there was no tension, no bitterness, no frustration—just quiet acceptance, like this was simply a fact of life, an inevitability you had long since resigned yourself to.

“I’ve learned not to fight battles that don’t matter,” you added.

Wednesday narrowed her eyes. “That sounds like cowardice.”

She expected a flinch, a glare, some kind of reaction at the insult.

But you only looked at her, that same faint, almost knowing smile on your lips. "Maybe," you said. "Or maybe I’ve just realized there’s no point."

There was no weight behind the words, no emotion for her to latch onto. Nothing.

That should have pleased her. Wednesday had always hated dealing with overly emotional displays, found them exhausting, unnecessary. But this wasn’t peace. This wasn’t calm.

This was a void.

And it unsettled her more than anything else could have.

Wednesday held your gaze for a long moment. Then, before she could stop herself, before she could convince herself it wasn’t necessary, she forced the words out

“I haven’t spoken to you in a year,” Wednesday said, her voice uncharacteristically soft, though still blunt. “That day in the hallway…”

You tilted your head slightly, as if trying to recall something distant. “I don’t blame you, Wednesday. You don’t need to apologize.”

The statement caught Wednesday off guard. She hadn’t been planning to apologize, not exactly. But the fact that you brushed it off so easily, as if it didn’t matter at all, made her feel even more uneasy.

“I wasn’t going to apologize,” Wednesday said quickly, more to reassure herself than you. “I don’t apologize. I just..." she sighed, taking a deep breath.

"I just wanted to say I am not one to dwell on past mistakes, nor do I often feel the need to correct them. However…" A pause. Her fingers twitched at her sides. "I shouldn’t have said what I did. Last year."

Nothing.

No flicker of relief, no sign that this meant anything to you at all.

You simply nodded, voice as steady as ever. "It’s fine."

It wasn’t.

"It really doesn’t matter," you added.

Wednesday’s jaw tightened.

It didn’t matter.

That was what you had said.

The same way you had said it about the group who bullied you.

The same way you had said it about yourself.

It should matter.

But you spoke like someone who had already accepted things would never change. Like someone who had given up long ago.

She didn’t know why that bothered her so much. Wednesday exhaled slowly.

"If they bother you again, tell me."

Your polite, practiced smile returned.

"I’ll keep that in mind."

You wouldn't.

Wednesday was feeling tired now, she hadn't been able to sleep for the past few days. And there was the round glowing thing, up there in the sky, judging her.

So the next time Wednesday didn't hesitate. “Are you all incapable of finding something more productive to do than harass the same person every day?” she said, her voice cutting through the air like a blade.

The bullies froze, their smug expressions faltering as they turned to face her.

“Look, Addams, we’re just—” one of them began, but Wednesday raised a hand, silencing them.

“I don’t recall asking for an explanation, if you want to keep your body parts intact, I would suggest moving away now.” she said icily.

Before she could take another step toward them, you stood abruptly, placing a hand on Wednesday’s arm.

“It’s okay,” you said softly, your voice steady.

Wednesday frowned, her eyes narrowing. “It’s not okay.”

You shook your head, your gaze meeting Wednesday’s for a brief moment before dropping again. “Please. Just leave it. It doesn’t matter.”

Those three words, and here she thought she hates the other set of three words.

She was beyond frustrated. “Of course, it matters—”

But you cut her off with a faint, almost pleading smile. “Thank you, Wednesday. But I can handle it.”

Your calmness only made Wednesday angrier, but she allowed herself to be stopped. The bullies muttered something under their breath and walked away, clearly unwilling to push their luck further.

You let go of Wednesday’s arm and gathered your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. “I’ll see you later,” you said quietly, before walking away without another word.

Wednesday watched as you walked away, the ghost of that practiced smile still lingering on your lips.

It unsettled her.

She should have felt satisfied. The bullies had left. You were no longer being bothered. By all accounts, this was a resolution. Yet, as she stood there, the frustration in her veins had not lessened. It had thickened.

Because you weren’t relieved. You weren’t grateful or upset or anything at all. You were just… neutral. Indifferent. As if nothing that had just happened actually mattered.

And that was what disturbed her the most.

She hadn’t intended to seek you out again that day, but as evening settled over Nevermore, she found herself in your presence once more. It was not premeditated. At least, that was what she told herself.

You were at your usual spot in the library, tucked away in the corner where few people ventured. Your book was open, but Wednesday could tell you weren't reading, your thoughts were elsewhere.

Wednesday sat down across from you without invitation. You looked up, but instead of questioning her presence, you simply nodded in acknowledgment before returning to staring at the pages in front of you.

She waited for you to speak.

You didn’t.

“I assume you have no opinion on this novel?” she asked, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

You blinked, finally lifting your eyes to hers. There was no confusion, no curiosity—just quiet patience, as if waiting for her to get to the point. “It’s fine,” you said simply.

Fine.

Wednesday studied you for a long moment.

A year ago, you would have said more.

A year ago, you would have tilted your head, started a conversation, told her what you thought, even if you knew she might not respond.

But now?

She felt a strange, unfamiliar irritation.

Wednesday exhaled sharply. "You used to be more talkative."

You blinked, tilting your head slightly, as if this was a strange observation. "Did I?"

Wednesday's lips pressed into a thin line. "Yes."

You hummed, as if considering it, before turning the page of your book. "I guess I don’t have much to say anymore."

There was something deeply, profoundly wrong about that.

"You always had something to say before," Wednesday pointed out.

“I suppose I grew out of it.”

Wednesday didn’t believe that.

Not for a second.

But she didn’t know how to make you tell her the truth.

Wednesday had never been one to admire beauty—she found it frivolous, a distraction from the inevitable decay that awaited all things. And yet, she could not deny it.

The moon did look beautiful tonight.

And perhaps it's too late to notice this... has she always been too late to notice things?

It's alright, it doesn't matter.

Somewhere in the months that followed, she had begun to notice things.

Small things.

The way she was drawn to your presence more than she cared to admit. The way her mind wandered when you weren’t near. The way irritation clawed at her when she saw you retreat into yourself, as if part of you was slipping away, disappearing into the quiet that had settled around you for the past year.

She found herself seeking you out, not out of curiosity or obligation, but because she wanted to.

It was unnatural.

It was wrong.

But it was happening.

And she noticed that something else was happening, too.

You were changing.

At first, the silence had been suffocating. Wednesday had spent months trying to pry something—anything—out of you, trying to provoke a reaction, to hear your voice the way she used to. But it had been slow, painfully so, like pulling teeth.

Then, one day, she made a comment about Xavier's iq, and you—

You laughed.

It wasn’t much, just a quiet huff of amusement, barely even there. But it was real.

Perhaps that's what pushed her over the edge.

It started happening more often after that.

Little things.

A subtle smile when she made a dark observation about the world. A quiet response when she asked you a direct question.

You weren’t how you used to be. Not completely.

But you were less silent.

And Wednesday—who had spent her entire life preferring silence—found herself desperate to hear more.

One evening, as you sat across from her in the library, she caught herself staring.

You were focused on a book, your expression calm, lips slightly parted in thought. A stray strand of hair fell in front of your eyes, and without thinking, you reached up and tucked it behind your ear.

It was an utterly mundane action.

And yet, something inside Wednesday twisted.

She dropped her gaze immediately, pressing her nails into her palms.

This wasn’t right.

She knew what this was. She wasn’t stupid. She had read about these things, seen them infect others like a slow-spreading disease.

She was falling for you.

And it was unacceptable.

But the realization did nothing to stop it.

She still sought you out. She still lingered in your presence. She still noticed every detail about you—the way you fidgeted when deep in thought, the way your voice softened when you spoke to her, the way you had begun to meet her gaze a little more often.

She noticed how you were changing.

And she noticed that she was, too.

She had tried to fight it. Tried to ignore the way something inside her clenched whenever you smiled—really smiled, not the polite, practiced one you gave so often.

But it was pointless.

Because this had been building for months now, like a slow-burning fire that refused to be smothered.

And perhaps—

Perhaps she didn’t want to smother it anymore.

Wednesday wasn’t blind to the world. She knew what affection looked like, even if she had never experienced it herself. She had read of it, studied it, dissected it through history and literature and human observation.

And now, she was living it.

There was something deeply unsettling about the realization.

But there was something else, too. Something almost… comforting.

It wasn’t so bad, she supposed, to have someone she didn’t mind being around. To have someone who had seen the worst of her and still—still—remained.

Maybe she could allow this.

Maybe, for once, she could let herself have this.

The Raven was approaching.

Wednesday had never cared for such events—meaningless social gatherings. It was an evening of vanity, of shallow declarations and fleeting romances, none of which had ever interested her.

And yet, for the first time, she found herself anticipating it.

Because this year, it had a purpose.

This year, she would ask you.

The realization should have unsettled her, but it didn’t. Not anymore. She had spent months fighting this, dissecting it, rationalizing it, but there was no use in denying the inevitable. She had fallen for you. The thought of it no longer felt like a weakness.

Perhaps, in some ways, it was a strength.

She had spent so long trying to bring you back—trying to restore the version of you that had been buried beneath silence and indifference. And it was working, wasn’t it?

She could already picture the moment in her mind—she would find you alone, somewhere quiet, away from the noise of the others. She would state it plainly, without unnecessary theatrics or hesitations.

You would say yes.

And after the Raven—

She would tell you.

That she had fallen for you. That somewhere between your silence and your soft smiles, between the way you had once tried so hard to reach her and then stopped entirely, she had found herself tangled in something she could not escape.

She wasn’t sure what she expected to happen afterward. But she would deal with it when the time came.

For now, she just needed to ask you. She just needs to go to your dorm and ask you. She just needs to go to your room and find you.

Wednesday sat on the edge of the balcony railing, her legs dangling over the side.

In her hand, a letter trembled, one she had found beside you.

Her fingers curled tightly around the paper, the words smudged in places where she had gripped it too hard, as if by crumpling it, she could change what was written, change the reality of what had happened. But the ink did not bleed, and the words did not disappear.

They stared back at her.

"I'm sorry."

""I'm tired, Wednesday."

"It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault."

"Don't blame yourself."

But Wednesday did.

How could she not, when she had seen the signs too late? When she had spent so long convincing herself that you were getting better, that the quiet was no longer something suffocating? When she was the reason you got away?

You were smiling more. Talking more. Responding when she reached out.

For all her investigation skills, she should have known better.

It was never real.

She had studied death all her life, dissected it, understood it in ways most people never could.

And yet, she found herself wondering—

Would a fall from this height be lethal?

It doesn't matter.

She was going to find out soon anyway.

[Author's note: This was a one-shot ask. So blame anon for the heartbreak. I can't believe I wrote all that in one sitting lmao.]

[Worklist.]

Taglist: @ognenniyvolk@mally-ka@protozoario@machyishere@freakshow2501@101rizzlrr (If you guys don't wanna be tagged in one-shot asks, inform me, I don't mind.)

[kithtaehyung]

minted (m) (snippet) | myg

title: minted (m) pairing: street king!yoongi x street cart vendor!reader rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , smut ; haegeum au , gang au summary: all you do is wake up, sell your fruit on the dusty streets below your flat, and go to sleep. but everything changes when a customer you always look forward to seeing turns out to be dangerous. really, really dangerous. note: again, this wasn't on the docket for 2024 until i saw one (1) mint yoongi edit on my pinterest feed💀 anyways, this is dedicated to hali @sailoryooons for ur belated bday, nary @joonary for being a cutie pie and letting me adopt the tangerine cart girl idea in general, and luce @minttangerines for ur url and for being a wonderful friend. love you all! warnings: language, violence, weapons (guns/knives/chopsticks/etc.), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, murder, gang activity, poor reader is just trying to get through the day, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, knife held to the throat, tension, reader suffers from “my cabbages” levels of disaster, orange!jimin, fight scenes, both versions of yoongi have their own red warning labels smut warnings: to be dropped on drop day but lmfaoooo est. drop date: july 2024! teaser word count: 486 total word count: projecting 15-20k✌️

With a head full of thoughts, you stare into nothing, stirring your noodles and waiting for the heat to die down. 

Maybe you should’ve just walked a shorter distance and checked the shops you originally wanted to browse. If things went to plan, you could’ve been back home by now, freshly showered and curling up on your worn bed. 

But instead, your feet are sore, your head is anything but washed, and you have to trek home empty-handed—on the first day off you’ve had in months. 

Defeated, you sigh, going back to your bowl and watching diced vegetables swirl in aromatic broth. 

At least the food in this area seems good. And the fading decor really adds to the… 

Ambiance. 

Wait. 

You can’t pull your eyes away from the group walking in, bringing heat from the sweltering sun on their clothes and in their eyes. 

But you can only kid yourself for so long because the one that has your gaze tethered is the man in front. The one you haven’t seen in weeks. The one looking right back at you with a visage so shadowed you feel like moving tables to let him pass. 

…Yoongi? 

As he gets closer, you swallow hard, not expecting to see him and having no earthly idea what to do. 

But from the slight confusion pinching his forehead, he didn’t expect to see you, either. Which makes it even weirder when he slowly takes your chopsticks right from your fingers. 

Hold on, what—

“What are you—”

A lone, long digit over lips is the only response you get, silencing you immediately before you whip your head around to watch him rush past. 

All of them waste no time rushing up the stairs, a myriad of blues blending in with gritty paint and smoke. 

And just like that, your reunion is over. 

Home. You need to go home. Leave, leave, leave, because something is bound to be going down upstai—

A thud faintly shoots out into the staircase, and you spin around again in your chair, eyes snapping to the ceiling. 

Shit. 

Even though you’re on high alert, you realize with a quick sweep that no one else is noticing. Or moving. Or even paying attention to anything else but their own company. 

Does no one else care about the commotion? Do hits happen in this area that often? 

Mind running, you can’t decide what to do. Because even though Yoongi’s guys have plenty of weapons, he clearly had nothing since he needed to borrow your damn eating utensils.

Another crash rains dust on conversations around your shoulders, causing you to look up one last time. 

Go home, go home, go home. In what universe would Yoongi himself ever need your help here?

With one more look at your noodles, you curl your lips before biting a side. 

Already yelling at yourself for choosing to book it towards the back staircase.

-

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tbc :)))

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⟶ what do we feel! | 🥢 join the taglist 🥢 | masterlist

a/n: LETS GOOOO WHO IS HYPED BCCC..

[nastybuckybarnes]

wrote a bit of a blowie while on a plane the other day. plz enjoy while i continue trudging along slowly behind the scenes.......

He sucks in a sharp breath when your fingers wrap around the base of his semi, quickly chubbing beneath your delicate touch.

You look up at him with those wide, innocent eyes, and he sways a little on his feet with how quickly the blood rushes south.

Curiosity cocks your head to the side and pulls your hand upward, then slowly pushes it back down.

He pushes a heavy breath through his nose and drops his head back as one hand grabs your wrist while the other braces against the wall.

The water rains against your back as you slowly stroke his shaft, bottom lip tucked securely between your teeth has you watch the big man before you slowly come apart.

The hand on your wrist tightens but doesn't stop you nor does it push you to pump him faster.

No, he’s more than happy to take things at your pace, to let you have your way with him, do what you want to him.

And that’s exactly what you do. Slowly, you sink to your knees in front of him, a position he’s only ever imagined you in, and one he’s not sure you knew about.

One day, you’ll tell him about the website you stumbled upon on his phone that one time, but today is not that day.

Instead, you push your hair back and stroke his length a bit faster, leaning forward to place a gentle kitten lick to the tip.

His hips stutter forward and his knees buckle the tiniest bit and you can’t help but giggle.

“Fuckin’ hell. You tryna kill me?”

You grin up at him and lick your lips and fuck if that isn’t the sexiest thing he’s ever seen in his life.

He has half a mind to stop you so he can grab his phone to take a photo of you and make it his lock screen.

Wet hair clinging to your face in some spots, eyes wide, back arched, chest up, pretty hand around his cock and prettier lips pressing against the tip.

The thought leaves his head, though, when you wrap your mouth around the mushroom tip, tongue swirling around experimentally while your hand continues stroking him.

His abs flex, shoulders hunch forward and his breathing becomes laboured.

Water runs down the strong bridge of his nose, falling over his lips only to be blown away with each pant of air.

The hand on your wrist moves to your head, not pushing you down but certainly stopping you from pulling back (not that you had any plan on doing that anyway).

Encouraged by his reaction, you flatten your tongue against the underside and slide down his length as far as you can go, stopping only when you feel like you may gag. And then you pull back and do it again.

And again.

And again.

Each pass brings you further and further down his heavy cock until your nose is nestling in the batch of hair at the base.

Your eyes water as you fight your gag reflex again, but the look on his face is so worth it.

~*~

Now.... what fic are we plopping this into, I wonder... 😈

[katnipp]

everything but yours— sophia laforteza

genre: pure angst with NO comfort :3

synopsis: sophia only came to y/n when her heart was broken—crying in her arms, sleeping in her bed, calling her “home” when the world hurt too much. but when it was time to choose someone to love, it was never y/n.

warnings: unrequited love, emotional dependency, just very sad stuff😿

—

sophia always knew where to find her.

no matter how long it had been.

no matter if they hadn’t spoken in days, or weeks, or months.

somehow, sophia’s grief always led her back to y/n’s door like clockwork.

the first time it happened, y/n thought she might finally get what she wanted.

sophia had shown up in the rain, soaked through, her voice trembling when she said, “he’s gone.”

she’d cried into y/n’s shoulder, held on like she was afraid she’d disappear too.

they stayed up until 4 a.m. talking about everything and nothing.

and when sophia fell asleep beside her, y/n laid there wide awake, too full of hope to rest.

but sophia never kissed her.

never reached for her hand like it meant anything.

never even looked at her like she could love her back.

she just needed her.

and that was enough to keep y/n hanging on.

⸻

it became routine.

sophia would fall apart, and y/n would be there to catch her every single time

heartbreak after heartbreak.

man after man.

sophia would whisper “you’re the only one who gets me” and y/n would pretend she didn’t know it was a lie.

or maybe it wasn’t.

maybe sophia really did feel safe here.

maybe she really did mean it when she said, “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

but wanting someone isn’t the same as loving them.

and sophia never wanted her in the way that mattered.

⸻

the thing is—y/n tried.

she tried to move on.

she tried dating other people.

she tried filling the space sophia left with someone else’s hands, someone else’s voice.

but it always came back to her.

to the way sophia looked at her when she was vulnerable.

to the smell of her shampoo in y/n’s pillowcase.

to the sound of her voice, saying “thank you” like it was everything and nothing all at once.

no one else ever stood a chance.

⸻

one night, it was worse than usual.

sophia had gotten into a fight with her then-boyfriend.

something about how she “makes things too complicated.”

how she’s “too sensitive.”

how she “always needs something.”

she showed up crying so hard she couldn’t speak.

y/n held her on the bathroom floor while sophia shook and gasped for breath and begged someone—maybe herself—to make it stop.

“you’re not too much,” y/n said, again and again.

like a mantra.

like prayer.

if she said it enough, sophia would finally believe it.

but she didn’t.

she only ever believed things when they came from the mouths of people who didn’t stay.

⸻

a few weeks passed.

radio silence.

sophia didn’t come over.

didn’t call.

y/n thought maybe she was healing.

maybe this time she wouldn’t come back.

but then one afternoon, y/n saw her in town.

laughing. glowing.

hand in hand with the same boy who called her complicated.

they didn’t see her.

y/n stood across the street and watched them like she was watching a scene in a movie she wasn’t cast in.

like someone had taken her place in a life that wasn’t even hers to begin with.

⸻

the sixth time sophia came back, y/n didn’t even flinch.

she opened the door, let her in, and asked, “tea?”

and sophia smiled like nothing had happened.

like she hadn’t disappeared.

like she hadn’t handed her heart back in pieces every single time.

“you always know what i need,” she said.

and that was the worst part.

because she did.

and it still wasn’t enough.

⸻

sometime in late march, sophia stopped coming.

no warning.

no goodbye.

just silence.

a month passed.

then two.

and then, without fanfare, y/n saw a post.

a photo of sophia, standing on a beach with sunlight in her hair.

captioned: “he makes it feel easy.”

and y/n—sweet, aching y/n—sat on the floor of her kitchen again.

same spot.

same tea.

same silence.

but this time, she didn’t cry.

this time, there was nothing left to break.

just a girl, hollowed out by almosts.

by every night she held someone who never stayed.

by every word that felt like love but wasn’t.

⸻

she deletes sophia’s number that night.

not because she’s angry.

not because she wants to forget.

but because if sophia ever calls again, y/n knows she’ll still answer.

and that might be the most painful part of all.

—

a/n: sorry if it was a bit short guys🤕

[loulou-land]

I’ll Always Choose You

Day 13 of @bucktommyfluffebruary | Love Declarations | 808 words | Fluff and Humor | on ao3

“I really didn’t think I’d feel this way,” Buck admitted, voice wavering slightly. “But it just…kinda snuck up on me. It was like this buildup of all the little things, you know?” He waved his hand around as he tried to find the words to explain it. “Like…like waking up to your cold nose pressing against my cheek, or how cuddly you are, and…just how you’re there for me when I need comfort. You always know when I don't want to be alone, or when I'm exhausted, or I've had a bad day. And you make me feel better.”

Buck exhaled, shaking his head as if overwhelmed. “So now…now I can't imagine life without you.”

He paused, reaching his hand out as he held his breath. Waiting for a reaction.

Instead, there was a single, uninterested—

Meow.

Buck blinked, releasing his breath in a sharp gust and dropped his hand. Figures.

Their orange tabby, Captain, who perched lazily on the armrest continued licking its paw, completely unbothered by Buck’s undying devotion.

Buck stared. Pouted, even. “Seriously?”

He knew cats were fickle creatures, but come on! He really thought he’d become Captain’s favorite.They had spent so much time together while Tommy had been fighting wildfires up in the north for two weeks. So yeah, Buck had at least expected a slow blink to let him know he was appreciated. But nothing, nada, zilch.

A loud snort from the other end of the couch pulled his attention.

Apparently, Tommy had been watching the whole scene unfold. His book lay forgotten in his lap, his lips twitching like he was fighting back laughter.

Buck frowned at him, petulant. Tommy didn't have to worry about getting Captain’s affections, their cat already much preferred his lap over Buck’s. Which, fair, he could understand that—Tommy had wonderful thighs.

“You know,” Tommy said, raising an eyebrow. “I think that was more heartfelt than our love declaration.”

Buck scoffed, fully turning to him with a hand over his chest. “Oh, I’m sorry, was screaming at each other in the rain and dramatically falling into each other’s arms afterwards not romantic enough for you?”

He arched a teasing eyebrow at Tommy.

Tommy shrugged, eyes crinkling with laughter. “Ehh, it was alright.”

They locked eyes, neither one blinking, before promptly bursting into laughter.

Soon, their laughter softened and they lapsed into comfortable silence. Tommy opened up his book again while Buck turned on a documentary.

He flopped onto Tommy’s side of the couch, wiggling until he was pressed up against Tommy’s side.

Tommy just shifted slightly to wrap an arm around Buck’s shoulders, trailing his fingers absently through Buck’s hair.

Buck sighed, a little dramatically. “To be clear, Captain does love me. It just happens to be when it's just us…” he paused, realizing something. “Ah, sort of like an affair.”

Tommy hummed, passing the page on his book. “Noted.” He answered dryly.

Just as Buck was starting to get comfortable, Captain stretched lazily, jumped down from the armrest, and walked over Buck like he was nothing more than an inconvenient obstacle before curling up in Tommy’s lap.

It was deliberate. Malicious, even.

Buck’s mouth fell open at the audacity. “I pour my heart out to you, and you choose him? Captain?!”

The cat started purring, completely unconcerned with Buck’s complaints.

Tommy chuckled, rubbing the cat’s head with one hand while he pressed a consoling kiss to Buck’s hair.

Buck grumbled under his breath, but the warmth of the moment settled into him and he let himself enjoy it. The feeling of Tommy’s fingers—gentle, caring—as he carded through his hair. The staccato purrs of Captain as he enjoyed their closeness. And the scent of spring outside the window, soft sunlight streaming through.

Then, so low it almost got lost in the space between them, Tommy murmured, “I’ll always choose you.”

Buck stilled, his breath hitching.

Buck didn’t need the reassurance, not really. Not like before. He’d come a long way in feeling secure in who he was and their relationship. But that didn’t mean it didn’t get him every time. How generous Tommy was with always letting Buck know how wanted and loved he was.

His chest went warm, spreading through him like a spark in a forest. He felt too full, sometimes he didn’t know how his body could contain this much love for Tommy without exploding.

He tilted his head up, catching the same love reflected in Tommy’s gaze. He swallowed once, then burrowed his head against Tommy’s neck, pressing a soft kiss over his pulse. “I choose you too,” Buck murmured.

Neither of them moved for a while after that. Basking in the warmth and peace of the moment.

In this love that neither of them had to question, fully knowing how unconditional and encompassing it was.

[rainyorca]

Promise I'll be here 𓇼 Kenji Sato X Reader

Content Warnings: Blood, open wounds, fluff, no use of gendered pronouns for reader, based off that one scene in TASM, established relationship, kissing.

Word Count: 1,701

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼

It’s late at night when a Kaiju rampages through Tokyo, luckily for you it’s nowhere near your place. So you sit safely at your desk, watching the news from your laptop and viewing the creature from afar.

“Ultraman continues to battle Irugo. However, it appears the KDF have intercepted the fight.” The news reporter follows every move, his voice echoes through your room. “Ultraman seems to be taking some hard hits, but it looks like he’s successfully defeating Irugo.” 

You watch intently, watching your beloved in his hero form push the giant reptile back into the sea. His color timer hasn’t gone off this whole fight, but you can tell he looks exhausted, physically. After practicing all morning, attending a few fan events, and now this, it's almost guaranteed he's ready to drop.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips like you’ve been holding your breath this whole time. You shut your laptop gently, sitting back in your chair and staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought. 

Just as you're about to reach your phone and text him, there’s a soft knock at your window, making you jump slightly in surprise. You spin around in your chair, getting up and walking over to the window beside your bed. 

You smile when you see him, messy hair and all. You open the window, letting your exhausted boyfriend in. He crawls onto your bed with a soft groan, his hair dripping wet. 

“What a battle.” You say with enthusiasm. “Watched the whole thing on the news.” You leave his side to go turn your lamp on. 

“I thought the KDF was gonna ruin it again like always but-“ you pause when you see him, struggling to hold himself up on your bed. His white shirt is soaked with dark, crimson blood staining the soft fabric. “Oh my god.” You breathe, crawling into bed with him. His hair sticks to his forehead, wet with rain and sweat. There’s a few scratches on his face, nevertheless small and harmless. His beautiful eyes, lidded from exhaustion and pain, stare at you. The soft glow from your lamp casts beautiful shadows over his face, defining his sculpted features. 

You lift his shirt, looking at the large lacerations over his torso. They weren’t super deep but they would leave a pretty gnarly scar. The sight makes you a bit queasy but you swallow it down, keeping your composure for him. “Kenji,” you say, his name as soft as a feather on your tongue, “I thought your Ultraman form was supposed to protect you from things like this, you know keep you from bleeding and stuff.” Your messy haired boyfriend manages a tired, endearing smile. “It doesn’t always protect everything,” he winces when you pull his shirt over his head, the fabric scrapes over his exposed flesh. You get up, walking to your bathroom and grabbing some cotton balls and hydrogen peroxide.  

You sit back down on the bed, letting the things fall out of your hands and onto the soft cushion of your bed. “Sit up Ken,” you say, guiding him to rest his back against the wall. The coolness of your wall makes him flinch, his body reacting to the surface.

“Maybe we should get you in the shower first,” you make a sour face at the wounds, putting some alcohol on a cotton swab and patting one of the wounds gently. “It’s fine,” he sighs, “this will do.” 

You're silent for a moment, deep in thought while you carefully clean his wounds. He stares at your concerned face, a small smile forms on his lips but it’s barely noticeable. He brings a hand up to cup your face.

“I worry about you, all the time.” You speak softly, keeping your eyes on his wounds. “Really sometimes I wish you never told me you were Ultraman.” 

He chuckles softly. “Then who’s supposed to help me in situations like these?” 

“Mina’s helped you before,” you smile sweetly, giving him a quick glance before returning your eyes to his chest. “I just want you to be safe,” you continue, “and I want you to go to the hospital or something and get checked out because there’s not much I can do here.” 

“I can ask Mina to scan me tomorrow,” he hums, sounding more relaxed. It’s silent for a few moments, the only audible sound was his soft heartbeat combined with your quickend one. He gently moves your head so you could look at him. His eyes are intense but so full of love, drowning you in a pool of gray. 

“What?” You question, staring at him for a moment before turning your attention back to his wounds. He smiles sleepily, dropping his hand but leaning in. He tilts his head to try and catch your lips but you flinch back slightly. His breath is hot against your lips and every muscle of your body holds still, not wanting to move away from him.

His lips brush over yours but he never connects them. You part your lips slightly, still desperately trying to focus on fixing him up but your eyes are lost on his face. “Kenji,” you breathe, his lips grazing over yours again. “What?” He asks, sounding sickeningly innocent. You can’t help but smile a bit, your hand pausing from cleaning his injuries. 

He chuckles, that same breathy, sultry chuckle that made you fall in love with him. You still try to avoid his kiss but eventually you give in, letting your body relax and leave you vulnerable to him.

Your eyes close softly, your heart rate spikes as he reaches up. He rests his large hand on your neck, thumb on your cheek as he pulls you in for a kiss. His lips are soft, petal-like, gently pressing into yours. Your free hand is on his forearm, digging your nails into the soft, muscled flesh as he deepens the kiss.

“Kenji,” you gasp softly once he pulls away, trailing his lips down your jaw and to the junction of where your neck and jaw meets. “No,” you whisper, sounding rather weak to his attacks. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into him a little more, “not right now, you know better.” He smiles, slutty and drowsy. “Yeah,” he breathes lazily, “Do I?” He adjusts himself so he's got more leverage, sneakily using his other arm to pull you into his lap. “Kenji, no,” you warn again, trying to sound more firm but failing miserably. You're sitting on his lap sideways, not straddling him, legs only on one side. 

He wraps his lips around a section of skin on your neck, sucking softly, teeth grazing ever so slightly over your skin. The feeling makes your body bloom with warmth, a sensual sigh sliding off your tongue. “Yes,” he whispers, releasing your skin to look at the reddish-hickey he just left on your skin. He stares at it like a piece of art because in his mind it was and you were his canvas. His beautiful, soft canvas. He grazes his lips over yours again, trying to connect the distance. “Ken,” you smile, his name coming out more as a giggle. You press your hand onto his chest, mistakingly onto his fresh wound. He pulls back with a sharp wince, sucking air through his teeth in pain. His head hits the wall with a quiet bang.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you rush out, pulling your hand off immediately. “It’s okay,” he says softly, cupping your face again, “It's okay.” He leans forward, resting his head on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around you.

You wrap your arms around him, rubbing your hands over his back to soothe him. He practically melts into your touch, tilting his head to the side so he could at least see a part of your side profile. He studies your face with tired eyes, his body relaxed rather than tense. 

You stare outside the window, watching the car lights reflect off the building across from you. A steady fall of rain has started, pattering against your windows softly. 

“Kenji,” you hum, “you know I wish I could be there with you.” He sits back slowly, a curious expression on his face, a raised brow and a white smile. “You wanna fight a Kaiju?” He asks, his tone dripping with curiosity and slight humor. 

“No one else is there to protect you,” you respond, drinking in the sight of his smile, “I mean your dad can barely fight these days. If he can't help you then who can?”

“I just don’t want you to get seriously hurt,” your voice is barely above a whisper, barely heard above the rain outside. He gives you that same, charming laugh, just a more tired version of it. 

“I won’t, okay?” He grabs your head with both hands now, keeping you still, “and besides, you're here to protect me from afar, that's what I need right now. I don't need you risking your life for me.”

“But if I was seriously hurt you’d still take care of me, right?” he adds teasingly. 

You punch his shoulder softly, earning a mixture between a pained groan and a laugh from him. “I’m serious,” you protest, “I don't want you risking your life for me either, or millions of people. That may be cruel of me to say but I’d rather it be someone else and not you.” 

He smiles at you like a lovesick puppy, pressing his lips into yours once again. It’s more passionate now and you can practically taste the love on his tongue. “And yes, I'd still take care of you,” you pull away just enough to speak, “what type of lover would I be if I didn't?”

He sighs happily, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “Thank you, beautiful,” he hums, “I don't know what I’d do without you.” 

“Well you wouldn't be able to do this,” you chuckle softly, pressing your fingers to his lips, hinting at the kiss. This time it's you who closes the space separating you two. He smiles against your mouth, rolling over and making you fall back onto the bed softly, his hand on your thigh.

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼

[ajbullet]

My thoughts on episode 1 and 2 of Percy Jackson and the Olympians: (spoilers)

- The ACCURACY of the little Percy casting was unbelievable. They look identical.

- The SARCASM 🫶🏻👌🏻

- I’ve never been able to connect with Sally Jackson as a mother-figure in the books just because of my own rocky relationship with my mom, but the way she’s played really made me believe in her character and her love for Percy. It gives PERCY’s character more grounding and their relationship really drives the show.

- Sally just sitting in the rain with Olivia Rodrigo playing. Mood.

- “You fell in love…with Jesus?”

- The friction and “betrayal��� between Percy and Grover was super interesting to see and I’m really glad they touched on that more than in the books

- I’ve been pronouncing Brunner wrong. Dam.

- Sally saying goodbye to Percy, knowing she was probably going to die 😭. Percy screaming for her.

- the Minotaur fight was awesome

- “YOU DROOL WHEN YOU SLEEP” Omg I can’t believe she said it. Leah’s delivery was different than how I imagined it but I loved it. She’s so matter-of-fact

- Again, I’ve always struggled with connecting with Luke’s character just because I felt like he was a little two-dimensional in the first book and then after that, you know, he’s evil and while I understood his motivations, I just didn’t really…care? Idk but his portrayal really helped me understand the depth of his betrayal and just how heartbreaking his story really is. I already love him more than I’ve allowed myself to from the books

- “She’s my little sister” I love their relationship while it lasts. Seeing how close they are really adds to the layers of both of their characters

- I’ve also been pronouncing Thalia wrong. Double dam.

- THE BLUE CANDY. PERCY BURNING IT NOT TO TALK TO HIS DAD BUT HIS MOM. That scene broke my heart.

- Leah. As. Annabeth. I’m going to be completely honest, Ive loved Leah from everything I’ve seen about her but I was nervous just because of how precious of a character Annabeth Chase has always been to me and I didn’t know if ANYONE, not specifically Leah, could live up to those expectations but omg I love her. Her bluntness. Her facial expressions. Her voice and delivery. Her sure movements and confidence and self-assuredbess that has come from success after success and training for so long. The way she is so unashamed to admit to using Percy and only watching him to see what he could do for HER. In her short amount of screen time so far, Leah was able to add layers to this character I’ve loved for so long that I didn’t even know where there. I never wanted her to leave the screen. My only complaint is that she didn’t have more lines. She is my Annabeth Chase. She’s not from the books. She’s not from the movies. She’s her own version and she stole the show.

- Luke saying Annabeth has a plan and that Percy will know what to do, only for PERCY TO BE FLOSSING AND PEEING AND PETTING GECKOS and trying so hard not to drive himself crazy with his ADHD and having nothing to do. I genuinely laughed out loud. Might be my favorite part.

- the fight scenes are so well choreographed.

- CLARISSE. She’s too pretty. I can’t hate her. And her ELECTRIC SPEAR. When it broke and she screamed, I got chills.

- The trident.

- Annabeth KNOWING Percy was Poseidon’s before anyone else cause she’s “always 6 steps ahead”

- People already keeping such important info from Percy “for his own good”

- “You are Poseidon’s son” “No, I am Sally Jackson’s son!” Might just be my favorite line. It’s so true. She raised him. She sacrificed everything for him. She loved him and cared for him and taught him that he wasn’t broken, he was singular, a miracle. She died so that he could live.

- Sally Jackson is parenting goals

- The way Percy instantly changed his decision to go to the underworld as soon as Grover told him his mom could be saved. Their relationship is unmatched

- Walker Scobell is already pretty well known, but I have a really good feeling his popularity is going to skyrocket after this show. He is such an amazing, dedicated actor. I know exactly what he is felling 100% of the time.

Overall, I absolutely loved it. In two episodes it’s become a comfort show that I can’t wait to continue watching!!

[love-byers]

so as hard as it may be to believe, i was a mileven shipper right up until just before vol 2 of s4 came out. not hardcore twitter mileven, but a shipper nonetheless. i did love will and mike's relationship, maybe even more than mileven, but i never clocked it as romantic. i vividly remember thinking "aww, will and mike would be so cute together but they would never let that happen." and never thought about it again. even when i saw the rain fight and heard "it's not my fault you don't like girls" i was like "ohh wow so will is probably gay" and didn't even think he was in love with mike. i didn't believe that until the s4 trailer said "i think there is someone he likes" and of course, this was because of my own heteronormativity. i dismissed everything i saw and didn't even look for hints because the idea that the writers would allow a gay relationship between two main characters was not even a thought in my head. once i dropped that and started to trust that the writers actually cared and did want queer characters/storylines, everything made sense.

so i went into s4 thinking mileven were gonna be fine and that will was sad and hopelessly in love with mike. i mean fully believing it. so im mindlessly watching s4 e2 and thinking "aww poor will mike is so in love with el he can't pay attention to will" no questions asked.

then the fight happened. when mike blew up and said "you were! you were! you were rolling your eyes, you were moping, you were barely talking you basically sabotaged the whole day" i was like " how do you know that" but still, i dismissed it and barely thought about it.

then it happened. "we're friends! we're. friends." all the alarm bells went off. red flags flew up. my eyebrows furrowed. "ummm what mike? he didn't say you were more than friends. why is he viewing this romantically and why is he being so defensive???"

i was so deep into believing the writers would never let the gay romance happen, but that just couldn't get past me. there's no other way that line can be interpreted. that's a trope that means one thing and one thing only.

my next thought was "ok, this is gonna be like the rain fight. will is gonna be really hurt by this and go silent."

but nope, will claps back with "well we used to be best friends!" and i was stunned. utterly stunned. what is going on here? what is this dynamic? and why is mike more worried about this than finding el? why did he care enough to completely stop walking so he couple blow up at will for not talking?? but still, i was somehow able to let this go. because the writers just wouldn't do that. would they?

the mileven fight happens and i've never wanted to backhand a teenager more in my entire life. i'm reminded of stancy and their whole "i love you" thing

then THIS happened, and i was thinking more and more that mike doesn't love el romantically. look at his face when will says "whatever you didn't say you can say it to her then". will starts talking but the camera stays focused on mike and will remains blurred. we're supposed to be taking in mikes reaction. he says yes, but frowns and blinks rapidly. will was trying to reassure him, but mike has not been reassured. i don't know how to describe the emotion on his face. it's like you just had a chance to clear up your lie, but you still didn't, and now you're back to thinking about the moment your lie will blow up in your face. it's like his face is saying, "no, i can't just say it to her then because i don't want to."

the scene where they talk on top of the car is what started to make me think mike doesn't love el romantically. his reaction to will saying "it's scary, to say how you really feel. especially to people you care about the most. because..what if they don't like the truth?" he nodded. he felt seen. i remember thinking "ooooh. he doesn't love her and he knows she won't like that" everything made sense. if we apply mike's monologue logic to this, it makes no sense. whatever it is that mike is feeling, he thinks el won't like it. then he supposedly decides that the moment to tell her that is when she's dying?

mike is lying. he was holding back saying how he feels because he knows el won't like it. then when she's dying, he suddenly thinks his feelings are what she wants enough that it'll save her life? whatever he was feeling on top of the car and what he tells her in the monologue are not the same. you don't tell someone something they won't like when they're dying.

and 2 years ago i came to this conclusion without an ounce me believing byler could be canon.

[its-avalon-08]

God I love your stories ! Do you think you could write a story about daniel and the reader who are a couple, maybe the reader is the daughter of a great f1 driver who died in an accident when she was little. So when Daniel has a pretty serious crash and is taken to the hospital, she takes the first plane to come see him and all her past traumas come out...

can't do this again (dr3)

✦ pairing - daniel ricciardo x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, mentions of crash, loss, death of father, tears, fluffy ending

Y/N sat on the plush couch in her living room, the television casting flickering lights across the room as the Formula 1 race roared on. Daniel was leading the pack, his skill and precision evident with every turn. She had always loved watching him race, despite the anxiety that knotted her stomach every time he took to the track.

But then, it happened.

The camera cut to Daniel’s car, spinning out of control, crashing into the barriers with a sickening thud. The commentators’ voices turned frantic as they described the scene, and Y/N felt her world tilt on its axis.

It was just like her father’s crash. The same helpless feeling, the same gut-wrenching fear.

Without another thought, she grabbed her phone, booking the first flight to the city where the race was held. Her heart pounded, memories of her father’s fatal crash flooding her mind.

She was just a child then, sitting in her mother’s lap, watching her father’s car crash into the barriers, flames licking at the wreckage. She remembered the cold, sterile hospital room, the smell of antiseptic, and the tears that never seemed to stop.

Hours later, she rushed into the hospital, her legs trembling as she found Daniel’s room. Her breath hitched at the sight of him, lying motionless on the bed, connected to various machines that beeped softly.

“Oh, Daniel,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face as she approached his bed. She took his hand in hers, feeling the warmth of his skin, a stark contrast to the cold fear gripping her heart.

”Daddy!” she had cried, her tiny hands gripping her mother’s, eyes wide with fear as they watched the doctors work frantically. Her father never woke up, leaving a void that never truly healed.

“Please wake up,” she pleaded, her voice breaking. “I can’t lose you too. I can’t go through this again.”

She sank into the chair beside his bed, her sobs shaking her entire body. “You have to fight, Daniel. You’re stronger than this. You promised you’d always come back to me.”

Her father had promised the same, whispering comforting words to her before each race. “I’ll be back, princess. I always come back.” But he hadn’t. He never came back.

Y/N rested her forehead on their entwined hands, the memories overwhelming her. “I love you so much,” she whispered. “I need you to wake up. I need you to be okay.”

Hours passed, her tears subsiding but the ache in her chest persisting. She kept talking to him, her voice soft and trembling. “Remember our first date? How you took me to that tiny Italian restaurant and we got caught in the rain on the way back? You wrapped your jacket around me, and we laughed like we didn’t have a care in the world.”

Her father had done similarly, setting her on his shoulders as they walked back from a race track, the rain pouring down but their spirits high. They had laughed together, her father’s hand warm and reassuring in hers.

“Please, Daniel,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “Don’t leave me. I can’t go through this again. I need you here with me. I need you to wake up and smile at me, to tell me everything will be okay.”

As the first rays of dawn filtered through the hospital window, Daniel stirred, his eyelids fluttering open. Y/N gasped, her heart leaping with hope. “Daniel? Can you hear me?”

He turned his head slowly, his eyes finding hers, filled with pain but also with recognition. “Y/N,” he croaked, his voice raspy. “What… what happened?”

Tears of relief streamed down her face as she kissed his hand. “You had a crash, but you’re going to be okay. You’re going to be just fine.”

Daniel squeezed her hand weakly, his gaze softening. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

She shook her head, leaning closer. “Just promise me you’ll be careful. I can’t lose you, Daniel. I can’t lose you like I lost my father.”

His eyes filled with understanding and determination. “I promise, Y/N. I promise I’ll be careful. I’ll always come back to you.”

And in that moment, Y/N knew that while the scars of her past would never fully heal, she had found someone who would help her carry the weight, someone who would always come back to her, no matter what.

a few hours later

Y/N sat by Daniel's bedside, carefully feeding him small spoonfuls of soup. Each movement was tender and deliberate, her eyes never leaving his face. Daniel watched her, a soft smile playing on his lips despite the pain that lingered in his body.

She took a deep breath, her voice gentle but filled with emotion. "Daniel, I don't think I've ever told you just how much you mean to me. How much I love you."

He looked at her, his eyes locking with hers. "I know you do, Y/N. But hearing you say it… it means the world to me."

She smiled, her eyes welling up with tears again. "When I saw your crash on TV, it felt like my heart stopped. It brought back all the memories of my father, of losing him so suddenly. I was so scared, Daniel. I was so scared that I might lose you too."

Daniel reached out, his hand weakly grasping hers. "I'm here, Y/N. I'm right here."

She nodded, squeezing his hand gently. "I know. But I need you to understand just how much you mean to me. You're my rock, my safe place. You bring so much light into my life, and I can't imagine a world without you in it."

Flashbacks of her father filled her mind. The way he used to scoop her up and spin her around, his laughter echoing in their home. The way he’d tuck her into bed at night, reading her favorite stories until she fell asleep. And the way he’d always come back from his races, smiling and lifting her into his arms.

"You’re everything to me, Daniel," she continued, her voice breaking. "You make me laugh, you make me feel safe, and you make me believe in love again. I never thought I could feel this way after losing my dad, but you… you changed everything for me."

Daniel’s eyes softened, tears gathering at the corners. "Y/N, you’ve changed my life too. I think about you all the time, especially when I’m on the track. You’re my inspiration, my reason to keep pushing. Even when I crashed, my last thought before I hit the barriers was you. I was thinking about you, about how much I love you and how I wanted to come back to you."

She fed him another spoonful of soup, her hands trembling slightly. "I need you to be careful, Daniel. I can’t go through that kind of pain again. I can’t lose you. I need you to promise me that you’ll take care of yourself, that you’ll come back to me every time."

He nodded, his gaze intense and filled with determination. "I promise, Y/N. I’ll be more careful. I’ll do everything I can to make sure I come back to you. Because I love you more than anything. You’re my everything."

She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "Thank you, Daniel. For everything. For loving me, for being there for me, for giving me hope."

He smiled weakly, his hand caressing her cheek. "And thank you, Y/N, for being my light in the darkness. For giving me a reason to fight, to come back. I love you more than words can ever say."

As she fed him another spoonful, their eyes met, and in that shared moment, they both knew that their love was stronger than any fear or trauma. It was a love that could withstand the darkest of times and emerge even stronger on the other side.

[sugarlywhispers]

Yk that lava girl fix you made? I thought about how she can cover herself in lava..what if rain and water hurt her?

During fighting a super evil villain with bakugou (they're married) he starts speeding out rain and it injured her badly turning parts of her skin that was touched into sort of obsidian?

✨️these are really good questions that made me think of them for a few days so i could imagine the actual answers~

This is mostly what I took as inspiration for Y/N in this drabble:

Her body elevates in temperature to the point were you can see the lava running through her body, and her hair becomes complete lava, long locks or stings of lava she can use as weapon to capture things or villains (if the villain is something like those monsters of metal–she is not that heartless to burn people alive, even if they are villains).

Because she is basivally lava, the general answer is yes, Y/N can't fight in her lava form when it's raining. It actually hurts when her body transforms into obsidian–which is hard rock. I imagine that she becomes really good at fighting in her normal-human body so when this type of weather comes, she actually doesn't need to use her lava–if it's not for forming some kind of refugee or it's actually useful to help other heroes and civilians. She just stays on the helping civilians and rescue team during that kind of weather.

But I also imagined the first time Bakugou saw Y/N become obsidian because a villain threw water at her. He almost lost it when he heard your painful scream as you suddenly became rock. Like a statue, figure laying on the floor, hugging yourself in fetal position because of the pain. And nothing but simple rock.

He saw red. He went on a rampage, vengeance mode, so ready to tear and break and kill, that Deku and Red Riot had to interfere.

The villain was sent to the hospital, with custody of course. And Dynamight... he fell to his knees by your side, tears streaming down his face, body trembling with adrenaline and pain. You have told him water was your weakness, but he had never imagined it to this point. He didn't know it could kill you. He could have been more conscious, more careful of what villains crossed your path. He could have done so many things. He could–

The rock that surrounds you starts to break, the sound making everyone at the scene gasp as it moves. Bakugou doesn't understand what's happening...until it finally breaks completely and you emerge, taking a deep, long breath, in your normal form.

He watches you with big, wet eyes, almost not believing what he's seeing, as you say, "Fuck! Well that fucking hurt..."

People around start to clap and laugh because you're so... you.

And Bakugou feels... like he can breathe again. Like all that pain he felt seconds ago just dissipates in the air like the smoke that came from the rock breaking and making you born again, like a Phoenix rebirth from its ashes, so beautiful and so majestic.

He looks down and sobs, which immediately alerts the rest of the heroes and they start to pull everybody away from the scene.

"Oh, baby, I'm okay..." your arms surround his neck and he instantly reacts, hugging you back and hidding his face in your chest and neck.

Least to say, that image, Dynamight kneeling on the ground crying, with his wife comforting him, were the talk of the month. And what actually gave him the stop of Number One Pro Hero on the list for almost six months, until Deku beat him again with some other bullshit he did. But at this point, no one is concerned about the spots on that list. Dynamight and Deku go up and down between the first and second place all the time.

That is, until Y/N finally gets her breakthrough and wins first place for almost 5 years in a row.

And Bakugou can't shup up about how awesome his wife is.

[majoryeager104]

Request by @jishthefish23 hear me out, teenage reader who saves fresh out of coma dabi from getting killed in an alley one rainy night, but dude still passes out so she brings him back to her apartment so he can rest and heal up (she has water/healing quirk, katara style? 😋) and he wakes up to her making breakfasts or smth, basically cuteness ensues 🙂‍↕️ she’d probably have to be a runaway that dabbles in something illegal to afford an apartment herself, maybe she’s besties w/ giran who hooks her up with jobs idk, BUT I’M SURE U GET THE IDEA LOL (bonus points if he lights a candle for her with his quirk BYE) okay i yapped sorry fam 😔🙏🏻 no pressure to do this either btw!! just wanted to throw the idea out there 💆🏻‍♀️

Nah u know what’s so awesome about this is that literally yesterday I was thinking of writing an x reader where reader has a quirk like Katara 😭😭😭 thx for the request 🙌🙌🙌

Teen Touya x Water/healing quirk gn! Reader lets goooooooo

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Winter was one thing, winter rain was another, something you were quickly coming to dislike as your clothes got more and more soaked in freezing water. Sure, you could use your quirk to dry your clothes, whipping away the cold moisture within seconds, but then you’d only end up getting soaked all over again. Besides, you were a bit distracted, hands in your pockets as you stopped by a familiar alley, the kind where you usually saw people robbed, or worse. You’d seen the scene a million times before, but this time you shivered at the sight, and the cold creeping over your skin. Because cornered in that alley, shivering and clearly trying not to cry, was a boy not much older than you, with…burns? He was surrounded by three men- Men you’d seen, and scarily enough met before, men you didn’t want to run into twice.

You shivered again, a reminder of your own predicament. You were going to turn around, walk away and turn the other cheek to danger like you usually did, it was safer that way. For you, and for the person being hurt. But his scared eyes made contact with yours, the moment lasting long enough to convince you. You technically had the advantage anyways, water everywhere and all. So, slowly, you stepped into the alleyway, clearing your throat. Slowly, the three criminals turned to look at you, their sneers now pointed to you as the frantic boy looked down at his hands, cursing slightly. Was he having trouble with his quirk? Whatever, you could handle them on your own.

“Leave him alone.”

Simple sentence, not something you’d call ‘fighting words’, but they sure took it that way, immediately attacking you instead with their various quirks. But, as mentioned, you’d run into them before.

Touya, bruised and bleeding, watched as you manipulated the water around you- an incredible quirk, he quickly thought- and within five minutes, took each of them to the ground, making sure they were unconscious, and swiping one’s wallet, before you walked up to him, pulling out your phone and turning on the flashlight as you spoke to him.

“hey, I beat em so you’re safe no- wow they beat the shit outta you.”

Touya covered his eyes, adjusting to the light as he tried to stand, his voice almost as shaky as his freezing body was.

“..they..they came out of nowhere…”

“yeah, those guys are just bullies…do you got a place to-”

Before you could finish the question, he collapsed in front of you, and you barely caught him before he hit his head. Even if he did have a place to stay, he was too hurt to get there tonight, and you’d never forgive yourself if you left him in the cold. So, gently, you tugged him up over your shoulder, and carried him back to your apartment.

Once you got there, you laid him on your couch, carefully checking his injuries. “Poor thing… you got a cracked rib… how hard did those assholes hit you?” You spoke quietly, despite his current unconscious state. You slid off his shirt, folding it and setting it to the side as you opened a water bottle, pouring it out into the palm of your hand, using your quirk to make a little bubble-like shape around your hands as you gently placed them against his bruised and burnt skin.

“looots of work to do…”

You spoke quietly, careful not to wake him as your quirk worked its magic, healing his bruises, his cracked rib- a much more difficult task- as well as his blackened eye, and bloody nose. He was a bit dirty, and it seemed to you like he had been out in the rain all night. So, you wrapped him up in blankets once you were done, taking a long look at him before leaving the room for the night.

While Touya slept like a baby on your couch, you counted the cash in the wallet you’d swiped off of one of the men who’d attacked him. It was actually more than you’d expected, a pleasant surprise. while you did this, you also called your friend Giran, someone who’d actually helped you get this apartment, and the jobs you’d be doing for the next few days. But, till then, you supposed you’d be taking care of the white haired assumed runaway in your living room.

𐬼𐬿♥︎next morning♥︎𐬿𐬼

Touya blinked awake, feeling…comfortable. It was weird, he didn’t realize it’d been so long since he felt comfortable like this, and he didn’t even know where he was. He glanced down at the blankets that covered him, and saw his shirt neatly folded to the side. Was he home? Had dad found him? No, no this looked like a small apartment, nothing like the traditional decor of his home. But it sure felt like a home, especially as the smell of pancakes hit his senses, leading him to sit up and get a better look around, his eyes landing on you in the kitchen. You, who’d saved him the night previous. He was almost sad he wasn’t home, but at the same time he was too grateful, and hungry to care about that at the moment.

“well, good morning sleeping beauty! How’d ya sleep?”

He was taken aback by your cheery smile as your eyes landed on him, and all he could really do was sheepishly nod. What’d you call him?

“you were knocked out cold last night, and, well, I didn’t want to just leave you in the rain, so welcome to my apartment. I’m y/n by the way.”

You knelt by the couch, holding out a hand with that same cheery smile, leaving him even more confused than before. Since he’d woken up, he’d constantly been treated so… crossly, that your cheery compassion was both much appreciated and very confounding. But nonetheless, Touyas hand slid against yours, and he carefully shook it.

”I-uh…I’m Touya… hi…”

He watched as you stood with a smile, walking back towards the kitchen. “Well, Touya, it’s nice to meet you. I made pancakes, if you want some.”

He nodded sheepishly, his hunger getting the best of him. But why was he so nervous? Why were you so…intimidating? No… you were far too sweet to be intimidating to him, but still, he got this weird feeling in his chest every time you even looked in his direction.

He winced as he stood up, his whole body familiarly achy from the incident the night before. “Careful getting up, I healed you but there’s nothing that I can do about soreness…”

Healed him? Was that why his shirt was on the floor? He smiled a bit, glancing over at you. The more you spoke, the more he realized he’d found a friend, and for that he was truly glad for the first time in what felt like forever.

“so do you want maple syrup? Or like, I’ve got whipped cream? Or both, it’s up to you”

you glanced over at him with a smile as he followed you into the kitchen. How absurd was it that you found him adorable? His wide eyed glances, even the way he shuffled into the kitchen after you. You were having trouble keeping yourself from blushing every time he looked over at you. His eyes went a bit wider as you asked him the question, and he glanced down at the stack of pancakes. “Uh… syrup please…”

He too was having a hard time. Why was he acting like this? I mean, sure, he was a guest, and should be polite, his mother taught him well in that respect, but why was he having such a hard time looking you in the eyes?

You helped him make his pancakes, quietly concerned as you glanced at his shaky hands, and back up at his burns. He’d clearly been through some serious damage…maybe he could stay with you a bit longer so you could make sure he was oka-

You didn’t realize till the strong smell hit your nose that you’d burned your own pancakes. You sighed, turning to toss the overly cooked pancake. “Sorry about the smell…here” you shuffled around for a moment, finding a candle. That’d have to do for the moment. “Lemme just find my lighter…”

Touya watched you quietly for a moment your struggle to find said lighter was apparent. He glanced down at his hand. He’d had trouble using his quirk again last night. What if it still didn’t work now? What if it did, and he lost control? He stepped a bit closer to you and the candle, taking a deep breath. Calm your nerves, Touya…

“here!”

you stood up straight, lighter in hand. He was almost disappointed he couldn’t help, but when you tried to light it and it refused to work, his confidence came melting back. He watched your hand, which was wrapped around the candle, stepping a bit closer once more.

“..I can help”

you looked up at him, a confused expression painting your face. But quietly you watched as he held up his hand. He focused on it for a moment, and then with a little spark, he’d successfully lit a tiny flame on the tip of his index finger. His other hand met yours, pulling it and the candle closer as he carefully lit the wick.

You smiled, and he smiled too, proud that he’d managed to use his quirk without burning down your apartment, and also glad you seemed to like his quirk. But quickly, he extinguished the flame with a gentle huff of air, the tip of his finger smoking slightly.

“Ta-daaa!”

He smiled sheepishly and you couldn’t help but giggle. Yeah, maybe you could let him stay a bit longer.

“Nice quirk, Touya! Thanks”

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This was stuck in my head while I wrote it, the vibes are vibing ngl 🙏🙏🙏

Should I do a part two? 😗😗😗

[marcussour]

EXU: Divergence E01 random bits and thoughts

Guess who's back, back again? Let's do this

Brennan giving the pass to Matt giving the pass to Sam to make the ad

The production team really outdid themselves with the new intro and music for EXU

Oh no, wasted opportunity by Brennan by not starting the episode with just a 1 word referring an elemental concept (tho to be fair, we all were expecting that)

Starting with a vampiric hobgoblin tho, great choice

Loved the change of pace regarding Calamity and Downfall of, ok, we're starting deep within the Betrayers sphere of influence, and everything is terrible

Garen! Love it (there goes my guess that Matt was gonna play a young Ludinus)

Level 0?! Oh, that's an amazing choice, again, great contrast with how the other ones were super high level (and one basically gods)

A dwarf you say? Name Dari? Related to Matt's character?

Nia! Already love her

"I keep my hope quiet but I will never let them take it from me"

Fiedra! love the cockroach tatoo

Hand jokes galore!

"Is there anything remotely drinkable in this kitchen?"; "There's a bucket of blood under the chop shelf"

Kephekedriel's hilarious

Oh, we got 2 dragonborns

Erro! Crokas!

This 4 armed dude kinda sounds like Brennan's impression of Tim Curry, just dialed back a notch. I was waiting for him to ask Nia for some CHAIN WALLETS

Brennan do love some tiny little freaks

Oh, this thing with the mice and the fleas is super interesting. I kinda saw them as, not only some kinda of heralds of change (is it the Changebringer or the Wildmother?), but, is it like, the fleas biting and giving some light like, hope is contagious?

It was so obvious that the stuff at the beginning of the Prime deities being defeated was just propaganda, but its great to have the confirmation. Also, it fits with the theme of the campaign so much, like, Brennan's not being subtle at all, but sometimes there's no time for subtlety

STOP FIDGETING

"It's okay. I wouldn't want to help me either"

"IT'S SO BAD"

Bless by bug-bite. See, there's something here.

They really left the bad rolls for the second half of the episode... and then it comes Jasmine with a 24

Matt's rolling incredibly for a character that's level 0, he's so happy that he's finally getting good rolls for once.

Oh, it just dawned on me, this is the preambule to the Wildmother's fight with the Strife Emperor

Several thousand mice!

The well honored tradition of having a door being the fiercest enemy they've faced so far (which, since they're all level 0, makes total sense)

Oh Crokas, sweetie

"What do you do if you see a miracle?"

Crokas grunts are amazing

Great to see that there's the remnants of how the Dawnfather and the Storm Lord helped the Wildmother defeat the Strife Emperor

"10 gets you somebody, 15 gets you some buddies, 20 gets you everybody", see, I love so much that kind of wordplay that Brennan always do, dude's just so good at this

Oh, those rolls by Jasmine were just terrible

Liam nonchanantly with that Nat20

Starmian Fiddleflask, amazing name, no notes

A bottle of red wine, a wheel of cheese and a bottle of fish roe, not a bad start tbh

"Sorry Vox Machina, get good"

One night over and Fiedra's already talking about eating people

Oh, Alexander has a mean Gollum imitation, giving Liam a run for his money

Once again, the contrast between the opulence of Avalir in Calamity vs the characters making dairy checks to survive and struggling to find food and water here in Divergence

RIP Starmian

That last scene with the party watching the Stormlord passing through was incredible. The highlighting of the rain doble nature as both creation and destruction. Crokas conversation with the Stormlord.

Give and take and take and take and give and take.

[runninguplenorahills]

Maybe the apology was the friends we made (lost) along the way

Or in other words: why I don’t think Mike biked across town in the pouring rain to apologize to Will, nor intended to even talk about the fight at all.

So, it’s been one and a half years since starting this post, which makes actually posting it long overdue, but here it is. Thank you for sticking around and welcome to this ride into the past 🌧️

One thing that has been gnawing on me since the very moment I joined the byler fandom are the intricacies of the rain fight to finding Will at Castle Byers timeline. The rain fight seems to take place at about noon and the most widely accepted perception was that Mike and Lucas follow Will immediately after he leaves. Logically, this implies that Mike's and Lucas’ arrival at Castle Byers must be around noon as well, the entire thing happening in a time window of maybe three hours maximum. Which means the pacing of the episode? Not the best. And the dark sky when they find Will? Storm clouds from the bad weather. Or so I thought.

I soon found out that not many people were on my side here, that is to say, they were with the order and manner of what happens, but most referred to Will at Castle Byers as " the night Will destroyed Castle Byers". Night. Whenever I saw that word I would get so annoyed and repeat "it's just the storm clouds!" over and over in my head because it seemed so obvious to me that that's what it was. It wasn't night, storm clouds were darkening the sky.

But there was one aspect that held me back from being entirely convinced by my own perception of the time that passes between the rain fight scenes, and it’s the fact that I had just joined the byler fandom (so about two and a half years ago). I was completely new to all of this and so many people who have been in this fandom for years already, analyzing plot and set and characters for ages, were under the impression that Will destroyed his beloved castle at night, so I knew something wasn’t quite right.

Were it really just dark storm clouds?

I grew skeptical of my initial perception so l did the thing every sane person does and rewatched the whole episode, stopping at every instance where there’s a clock on screen, writing down the time it told. And truth be told, it wasn’t entirely helpful because maybe the clocks were telling the “wrong” time for some mysterious reason (wink, wink) , but let’s not go there with this post.

Fortunately, I did actually find two clocks that were essential (to me) in placing the rain fight and Mike’s and Lucas’ arrival at Castle Byers in a more specific time window.

The first clock: Max’s wrist watch

Immediately after the rain fight, we follow Max and El to Hawkins Community Pool where the girls are looking for Heather. In order for El to use her ability to find people via the void Max turns on the showers and a close up shot of her hand provides a view of her wrist watch display:

It’s about 01:45pm. Which means we can infer that the rain fight really did happen some time around noon that day (again, we’re deliberately ignoring the possibility that the story deliberately doesn’t fit into a realistic timeline/isn’t in the right order etc.).

The second clock: the clock at the Holloway’s house

Near the end of the episode when Max and El arrive at Heather’s house we can see a clock on the wall behind Billy:

It’s almost 08:30pm. And this scene comes very shortly before the Mindflayer activates as it recognizes El, which then leads to Will getting his neck tingles at Castle Byers when Mike and Lucas finally arrive.

People, we have jumped in time significantly. The rain fight seems to happen around 01:45pm while Mike’s and Lucas’ arrival at Castle Byers seems to be at around 08:30pm; there is a gap of about 7 hours (It was a 7 /j).

So it really was the night, or rather evening, that Will destroyed Castle Byers, and even more so, this debunks that Mike and Lucas go after Will into the rain immediately. If they had done that hey would’ve maybe even caught up to Will on the way, or, in any case, arrived hours earlier. Thus, Mike and Lucas must’ve decided some time later that they were gonna check on Will. But why? Did Mike just mope around with a bad conscience for several more hours until the guilt eventually overwhelmed him and he finally decided to apologize? I honestly don’t think so. Especially because Mike never does end up apologizing.

This: “Will! Will, I’m sorry man, alright. I was being a total asshole. Please, can you just come outside and we’ll talk? Will!” is not an apology. Neither is it accountability nor a genuine offer to reconcile. Even if Will had been there to hear Mike (which he was not), it wouldn’t be any of these things. What it is is fear and desperation.

I have talked about this before. Mike has been suffering from PTSD ever since the events of the first season. Not only were those events severely traumatizing to go through (for everyone involved), but on top of that Mike seems to blame himself for the most crucial parts. His deteriorating mental health is more obviously displayed in the second season, however, signs of it do still occur in season three, for example the rain fight. The way this scene is shot ties it directly to the scene from the first episode of season one where Will tells Mike the truth about rolling a 7: standing in the garage, Will with his bike, Mike on the left, Will on the right (although they’re actually inverted as we’re now watching from the other side), Will riding away while Mike is left in his garage. It’s a near identical set up to remind the audience of the scene from season one, and of course of what happened right after: Will getting abducted. And it’s not only the audience that’s thrown back, so is Mike.

I think the long delay before Mike (and Lucas) finally decides to go after Will has everything to do with why he went at all. Will leaves Mike’s place similarly to right before he got abducted and it’s probably the amount of time that passes without any sign of him afterwards that makes Mike grow increasingly worried, paranoid even, that maybe something has happened (again). So he bikes to Will’s house to make sure it hasn’t, and his words to Will while knocking at his door are his desperate attempts to get a sign that Will is alive and safe. Mike is giving in for the sole purpose of getting something he wants, which is basically manipulation but of course, here it is not something Mike does for inherently selfish reasons but something he does impulsively out of genuine fear over his friend. The point stands however, that it’s not an apology. This is of course not to say that Mike didn’t feel sorry about what he said at all. His regret is obvious but he simply wasn’t ready to confront the situation right after it happened, and so he didn’t.

[kykyonthemoon]

7 Days the mini-series

About this series: ✈️

Day 07: A Lifetime

The warm sunlight painted the attic a pale yellow, covering the shelves adorned with old framed photographs and trinkets that held endless memories. I stepped inside. I walked in. My legs were no longer nimble, but I could still climb up to the attic by myself like every day.

That place was still his favorite corner.

The attic, the garden, the whole house were the presents he gave me when we got married. It was built on the foundation of our former house, which had exploded years ago. Although the rooms and arrangement had changed slightly, only this attic remained unchanged.

I dropped myself onto the sofa where he was sitting, flipping through memories in every timeless thing; paper planes, letters, the apple hair clip he gave me, and so on. I leaned down to pick up his old dress cap as it rolled to the ground, brushed it off a few times, and placed it on my head.

As if it was just yesterday when I was standing with him at the graduation ceremony of the aerospace academy.

"You know the tradition," he grinned, and I softly kissed the wrinkles on his face. At that moment, I felt like we traveled back in the midst of applause, in the rain of dress caps and confetti. The young me and him appeared, as if time had frozen at the exact moment I brought him closer to kiss him on the cheek. 

There were countless moments like that in this attic, in this place. They became less vivid with time, and I had forgotten some of the details. But the images of me and him still existed here. Sometimes, when I thought of the past, they would flash before my eyes like slow-motion movies that I always cherished.

It was the little version of me holding his hand for the first time. It was how we took care of each other when we were sick. It was the naps and meals with him. It was the laughter and the tears. It was when I thought I had lost him forever just to reunite with him once more. The first time we went on a date. Our first kiss. The fights and then the reconciliation. The trips we took. The day he got down on one knee. The first cries of each child that was formed from our love. Every moment in our children's lives, when they took off to build their own new nests... All the memories were kept somewhere in the corner of this place, intact, even when I could not remember them clearly anymore.

He and I started our journey together here, and in the end, we came back to the very place.

“Have the kids gone home?” He asked. He wasn’t feeling well these days, but he still kept the habit of going up to the attic every day.

“Yes, they've left.”

Occasionally, our children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren would come to see us in our modest abode. After a long day, it was only him and me, sitting peacefully next to each other.

“Now it’s just the two of us.” He smiled, then held my hand.

It was the same in the past. I enjoyed sitting with him here and watching the sunset through the window. The golden tint colored my entire universe, dyed his youthful figure, his purple eyes too… The scenes were weaved into every nook of this area. When I called, they would come back to me.

I lost track of time for how long we sat there reminiscing. Our lifetime was wrapped up within this tiny attic. He and I had been together for a lifetime. I felt his weight when Caleb leaned his head on my shoulder. When I was little, I would rest my head on his shoulder and fall asleep without realizing it, in every caress he  gave. Now it was my turn to kiss his forehead.

“Rest now, the love of my life.”

The sun was setting on the other side of the window. The day was ending, as our journey in this life had come to an end.

My hand was securely locked with his. Even our wrinkles matched perfectly, as if we were meant to spend this lifetime together.

He never awoke again. The person I loved the most in this world had passed away on such a serene afternoon, much like the day he stepped into my life. Yet, far away on the horizon, I caught a glimpse of two little figures walking side by side.

“Caleb! Wait for me!”

My tiny feet failed to catch up with him on the long road. Yet he would stop and extend his hand to me, saying:

“Pip-squeak, come to me!”

I always ran towards him, with a bright smile on my lips. Our hands would constantly be safely embracing each other, as we moved towards the warm sunlight. Towards home.

“Wait for me. I will find you in our next life.”

-The End-

Only for Caleb - Xia Yizhou.

Thank you for coming home.

[prisi]

I feel TOH fails a lot with the treatment that Belos and his lore receive towards the end. I think his arc will feel so much more complete if the show was allowed to show us that he suffered in the past and wasn't like "nah he is just pure evil and he has always been like that". I don't like how the show wants you to believe that Caleb did nothing wrong or reprehensible when there's obvious implications that he abandoned Philip to go with Evelyn, it will be so much more interesting that the show recognized that Caleb was naive and selfish in abandoning his brother (who only have him as family and support figure) to his own in the puritan era, and how that action of Caleb deeply damaged Philip emotionally and mentally (kinda like Luz abandoning Camila to live her fantasy in the Boiling Isles without thinking in the consequences (I'm still pissed that she didn't apologize to her mom for running away at the end) but we are not talking about that right now, I love Luz btw don't get mad at me). And Philip, who probably entered the Isles with the sole intention to "save" his brother who at his eyes was bewitched and seduced by an evil witch to go with her, when he finally found his brother after many years and found out that Caleb actually loved Evelyn and DECIDED to leave him behind he totally lost his mind.

A confrontation escene between Philip and Caleb (it could be a flashback or something showed in Hollow Mind even) will be so interesting to watch, something like in the third season of Infinity Train when Simon confronts The Cat for abandoning him as a child, Caleb will try to justify himself at first saying that he is sorry, that he thought Philip was going to be okay on his own, that he didn't thought that he was going to miss him or something, making Philip more angry, sad and confused.

The situation will scale to the point that Philip, (who's original goal was to kill Evelyn to bring back Caleb in the Human Realm) now that he is angry, sad and out of his senses he tries to attack Caleb with the dagger he had in his hand which triggers the knife fight in which Caleb dies.

Philip, after realizing that he killed the only person he had in the world, he tries to justify himself in an internal monologue like: "oh well, I murdered you, but in doing so I freed your soul from the union with that sinful witch. That's what the witch hunting taught me, right? That's what YOU taught me, RIGHT?". Trying to shift the blame for what just happened onto Caleb but also letting us know and acknowledging that it was Caleb who introduced and instructed Philip in the witch hunt and did nothing to reverse it.

Coming to the end, when the fight ends and Belos and Luz are face to face, the scene would play out more or less as we see it in canon but at the moment in which the first drop of boiling rain falls on his hand and begins to see his body dissolve, he enters a mental breakdown in which he realizes that he wasted his entire life on a goal that made no sense, the witches weren't evil or a threat and he knew it, but he clung to his goal because he did not want to face the reality, he did not want to accept that he had killed his brother in vain nor did he want to accept that he had decided to abandon him, and he did not want to die knowing that he wasted 400 years suffering for something that was not worth it. At the end of his collapse he would crawl a little and see Hunter in the distance (because yes, Hunter should have been present in the end even a little), he would try to extend his hand in his direction but Hunter, noticing this, would close his eyes, look away and take a step back behind Eda and Raine. Philip experienced his brother's abandonment again but with the difference that this time it is merely his fault, because even if Caleb damaged Philip deeply with his abandonment, he is not responsable of the path Philip choosed to take.

Seeing and realizing all of this Belos would stop crawling and give up, lying on the ground, breathing hard as the boiling rain finally dissolves him and dies.

Or at least that is how I liked it to happen, let me know what you think.