#but his parents are going to be stuck in this environment where they have to act happy and be normal - because they can’t cause a scene

[stagefoureddiediaz]

I personally think it is categorically hilarious that Buck is seemingly gonna rock up to his sisters wedding with a boyfriend having not told his parents of this development in his life.

It is peak trolling payback to drop that bomb on them in an environment where they have to play nice after all they’ve done to him. This is baby box the revenge and I am here for it

[miumura]

THE LOOK IN HIS EYES ─── P.SUNGHOON

( 엔하이픈 성훈 ) ﹕ sunghoon is assigned with the task to accompany you at a party — however, one slight problem, you’re barely enjoying your time around him. so, as his job, he feels the need to fix that.

──── sunghoon x f ! r . . . ⌕ body guard au & fluff ∿ 2K+ ( 2033 WC ) ╱ HAPPY SUNGHOON DAY !! should have released a christmassy fic but this picture of him still lingers in my mind so i had to write something based of it … 🫣

Parties? You loved them.

Something about the bustling environment was enough to get your adrenaline running. It was a time where you’d be free from your duties given by your parents, simply spending the night away doing what you wanted.

So, there was obviously no way you could turn down an event, especially the huge one everyone was talking about recently.

However, the only problem? You had to be accompanied by your bodyguard, Park Sunghoon, for the entirety of tonight.

“I feel so restrained with you being here,” you huffed as you sank in the chair, staring at the crowd seemingly having the best time of their lives. You were stuck here, sitting next to him out of all people. Now, if you had expected him accompanying you alongside the party, you would have worked harder to tell your parents no.

Who would’ve expected he’d be here, looking blankly with that cold expression of his, instead of just waiting in the car?

“Why do you feel that way, Miss Y/N?” Sunghoon asks with the most monotonous voice ever, enough to make you simply want to grit your teeth. The fact he was asking such an obvious question—someone who was as persistent as him—would’ve already known the answer to that. It’s as if your parents programmed him to say anything, even if it was completely obvious or nonsense.

“I wonder why I would be acting like this around you,” you scoffed while fixing your posture to take one good look at him again. Resting your arms on the table, you shifted your body closer to his side. “You’re the cause of this, Mister.”

“Mister?” Sunghoon slowly turned, his eyes narrowing slighter as he placed his forearm on the table. His eyes interlocked with yours as he inched closer to you. “Then who would be able to watch over you to make sure you’re okay?”

His cold yet serious glance pierced through you. With this close proximity being so sudden, the words you wanted to say to let out some steam disappeared.

“I can’t really disobey your parents’ orders, can I?” he continued, raising a brow while keeping his eyes firmly on yours. “And I told you already, didn’t I? Let’s drop those silly formalities.”

Your breath hitched, and you instinctively leaned back, your back meeting the chair a little too quickly. Flustered, you cleared your throat, crossing your arms as if to create some distance.

“I suppose,” you muttered, refusing to meet his eyes. “But still, it’s uncomfortable for me. I can’t do anything without you watching me like a hawk.”

“Isn’t that my job as a bodyguard?”

“You’re rather extreme for a bodyguard, don’t you think?” you shot back at him.

“And how is that?”

“I can’t even do anything without having to be constantly wary of messing up something. I can’t even enjoy a party with you being here. Parties are supposed to be fun, and I can’t even drink comfortably or dance!”

“Why can’t you do that?”

“I just told you—because of you!” The frustration in your voice rose unexpectedly, catching even yourself off guard. Sunghoon blinked at your tone, momentarily taken aback, though his expression remained unreadable. You turned away, refusing to meet his gaze, your arms tightening around yourself.

“Then let’s go,” he said suddenly, pushing back his chair as he stood. He adjusted his blazer with practiced ease, his movements sharp and composed. Your eyes darted back to him, caught extremely off guard.

“What?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Drinking and dancing… that’s what you want to do, right?” His eyes met yours with a strange vibe of determination. “Then let’s do it.”

“You’re kidding,” you muttered, still processing his words.

“I’m not,” Sunghoon said simply. “You want to enjoy the party, so let’s make it happen.”

“Why would I do it with you?” You said with shock as your arms fell onto your lap.

“Aren’t I the one responsible for making you feel that way?” He tilted his head. “I should work on not letting you feel that way again.”

His words left you stunned, your lips parting as you hesitated to respond. It felt strange—unnatural even—to hear something like that from him. It wasn’t like Sunghoon to say something so... considerate.

Noticing the shift in your demeanor, Sunghoon let out a quiet “ah,” as if realizing something. “Because of your parents,” he added, his tone more neutral now. “I need to look out for you.”

Right. Your parents. The mention of them brought you back to reality. Pressing your lips together, you swallowed the words threatening to spill out. Instead, you rose from your seat, meeting Sunghoon’s gaze head-on now that you were standing at his level. “I hope you’ll be able to watch over me well, Sunghoon.”

Without waiting for his reply, you turned on your heel and headed toward the drink bar. Sunghoon stood frozen for a moment, his hand twitching as if to reach out and grab your arm. But before he could act, you were already walking away. Slowly, he lowered his hand, shoving it into his pocket with a frustrated sigh.

Still, his instincts kicked in. Watching you move further away, he quickly followed, keeping you in his sight. After all, it was his job to make sure you were safe.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” Sunghoon questioned as he still saw you standing close by the bar.

“Don’t feel like it,” you say, swirling the drink in your hand. You’ve been slowly sipping that drink of yours, eyes lingering at the dancing crowd.

“Is it because of me?”

“No, really, it’s just… there’s too many people and the music playing isn’t my style,” you try to shrug it off as you continue to watch them dance as if they had no care in the world.

But, your actions speak more than your words, and Sunghoon could see right through you. He moved to stand right in front of you, his expression unreadable again—the classic Park Sunghoon type.

“Let’s get you dancing.”

“What?” you blinked at him, feeling quite startled by his request.

The music shifted then, as if on cue. The energetic beats faded into something softer, slower, and much more intimate. Sunghoon didn’t budge, still standing right in front of you as couples began pairing up around the room.

“Didn’t you want to have a good time?” He asked, wondering why you were frozen in place. “We can go on the dance floor for that.”

Sure, you did want to enjoy the night, but not like this. Not with the timing so terribly ironic, leaving the two of you standing there awkwardly as others around you started pairing off for… couple dancing.

Sunghoon peeked over to look at you, watching you as you seem to purposefully ignore his presence. He eyed the crowd, watching the pairs dance hand in hand, their laughter traveling around the room as they moved carefree.

“Y/N,” you turned to his voice, your eyes soon looking down at his hand extended to yours. Quickly, you raise your hands in protest.

“Oh, I don’t want to trouble you with that. You see—”

“What? The music is not your style again?” He cut you off, his tone sharp but not unkind. His hand was still extended out for you. “Or do you really feel that uncomfortable around me?”

“It’s not that,” you stammered. “It’s just, you know, I… I can just wait for the next song!”

“If you keep waiting, then when will you be able to have the night you want?” He asked, leaving you struck by his words.

“Well…” you trailed off, getting Sunghoon’s close attention. He leaned in slightly with his eyes flickering to the movement of your lips, trying to predict what you were going to say.

“Well?” he said rather impatiently, although he didn’t want to come across that way. He just wanted to know your answer.

“It’s just a dance, right?” you chuckled awkwardly, your gaze drifting down to his outstretched hand. Slowly, hesitantly, you placed your hand in his. Sunghoon’s fingers curled upward to hold yours securely, his touch firm yet careful.

When you looked up at him, your breath caught. His usual stoic expression had softened, his eyes meeting yours with a feeling that made this moment more heavy than it should’ve been.

“Just a dance,” he murmured, his voice steady, as if he was reminding him of what this was supposed to be.

With that, you two danced together, moving at the same pace as the other couples. Sunghoon's hand rested steadily on your back, while his gaze—strong and unwavering—remained locked on you. What could have been an incredibly awkward situation felt unexpectedly… comfortable. You surprised yourself by matching his steps with ease, his presence oddly reassuring.

“Bodyguards can learn how to dance now?” You joked, attempting to break at the nonexistent silent barrier. Instead of one of his serious, programmed answers, you noticed a fond smile creep up on his face.

“Can’t one be obligated to do something they want, just like how you wanted to get up and enjoy this party?” he replied smoothly, his smile widening enough to reveal the faint glint of his canines.

The serious, cold Park Sunghoon… smiling. At you.

Your eyes found it habitually trailing elsewhere, which was more difficult given his figure blocking you from looking at anything but him. Still, you tried to find a way, which was looking at his side, you hoping not to glance back at his features. You weren’t sure why, but you felt the sudden urge to forget that smile.

Sunghoon noticed. Of course, he noticed—when didn’t he notice you? He noticed the way your eyes lit up with excitement when you’d first received the party invitation. He noticed the subtle furrow of your brows earlier when something about the party seemed to bother you. And now, he noticed the way your gaze wavered, a clear tell of your flustered state as the two of you danced hand in hand.

Your little moment of distraction didn’t go unnoticed by your feet either, as a sudden misstep caused your ankle to twist awkwardly. A gasp escaped your lips, but before you could fully lose your balance, Sunghoon’s reflexes kicked in.

His hand gripped your waist firmly as he pulled you closer, steadying you. His other hand shifted slightly to ensure your grip was secure, to make sure you didn’t stumble again.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you shrugged off, dropping your hand away from his arm as you stood on your own.

“You should’ve been more careful,” Sunghoon said, his grip slowly loosening but not entirely off your waist. “Can’t have you ruining your night.”

There was that stupid smile of his again–his canines appearing once more faintly as his smile grew wider. Strangely enough, you found yourself smiling too, finding it hard to suppress it.

“You’re smiling again,” you muttered, your eyes still lingering on his face. Sunghoon hummed as his hand continued to stay on your waist, his expression softening even more. It was as if you were opening another side of him, simply just by looking into his eyes.

“Does it bother you?”

Maybe it did, but you just couldn’t tell somebody that. That would be rude to… not let a smile like that appear on someone’s face. Instead of responding, you shook your head, maintaining the eye contact you tried so hard to avoid before.

“Then that’s good,” he said, his voice easily cutting through the music playing in the background. “Because I think I might be smiling a lot tonight.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his words while also feeling an unexpected warmth spread across your face. You nodded, finding yourself holding onto his arm again. His sincerity was too hard to miss, and his presence was slowly becoming less suffocating.

Without thinking too much of it, you steady yourself to continue swaying in the rhythm with him. After all, you did want to enjoy your night, and Sunghoon was there to accompany you as it’s seemingly his job.

He is your bodyguard, after all.

‘💬’ — not even a xmas fic but december by ariana grande was pretty much on loop while writing this …

ENHA PERM TAGLIST (1) — @flwoie @ixomiyu @haruavrse @shinsou-rii @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @yenqa @dimplewonie @bubblytaetae @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @ml8dy @starikizs @wonioml @chirokookie @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @en-chantedtomeetyou @millksea @enhaz1 @eundiarys @hyeosi @ja4hyvn @judeduartewannabe @j-wyoung @thia-aep @vampcharxter @softpia @officiallyjaehyuns @itsactuallylina @hsheart @sweetjaemss @ahnneyong @hanienie @jwnghyuns @kpoplover718 @jiawji @rikizm @haknom @yeokii @wvnkoi @whoschr @teddywonss @shinunoga-iie-wa @isoobie @skzenhalove @misokei @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @miercerise @litttlestars @enhapocketz

[endursent]

Hi!

Not exactly sure if you take platonic requests but I would love to see your take on Sunday with a teen reader who kind of just stuck to his side the first time they met (reader lost their parents)

As for if it's pre-Astral Express or Astral Express Sunday it's up to you or it can be both if there is a noticable shift in dynamic between the two :3

【 content; sunday & gn!reader , astral express sunday , oak family sunday , general , mild bonding , sunday has changed a lot , rather short 】

【 note; i don't mind platonic requests! i've written plenty before, but it's been a while. thank you for the request!! i somehow haven't actually written pre-express sunday before...? i see sunday my brain goes brrrr. 】

【 word count; 1.493 | masterlist 】

Family Head - 

Sunday likes to think he’s quite good at handling people, be it when it comes to his work or personal life—which isn’t much to talk about—and thus when you follow him around like a lost duckling between errands after meeting at a funeral, he decides to at least make use of you.

  Not maliciously, sometimes he tasks you with carrying things, or writing something down he��ll have to remember. Sunday comes to find it quite helpful, despite the fact he barely knew your parents and that his presence was more of a formality—he doesn’t particularly mind your sudden presence, per se… but he has a reputation to uphold, and he must make sure that you will not do any damage to it.

  He’s very skilled in prying information out of others, both by force and not—though he prefers it to be a last resort that he thankfully didn’t have to utilise on you. Sunday hums to himself after passing down a street, vehicles cruising along the roads and people waiting to pass—he stops suddenly and you nearly walk into his back, but just barely manage to stop yourself before doing so. 

  He turns to you and tilts his head. “What is your preferred meal?”

  The question catches you off-guard. Sunday hasn’t asked you a direct question about yourself like this before, and though you can’t stop yourself from thinking of warm, homemade meals and familial comfort—you manage to blurt out the first thing that comes to your mind outside of old morsels clumsily.

  “I see. Come,” he turns and crosses the street before checking for passing vehicles, and be it pure luck or a creepy understanding of the Dreamscape’s environment, he passes between gaps in the road easily—you just barely make it by following at his heel. 

  After gifting (bribing) you with the meal of your choice, he gouges out your circumstance and position—mostly inquiring whether you don’t have any other immediate family to turn to. Tragedies are nothing new to him, and Sunday is a very practiced listener… but the presence of pain and the way you try not to maintain eye-contact with him throughout does tug on his need to rectify it. 

  He’s a bit awkward, as Sunday slowly tries to involve you more—more than just a glorified assistant. If nothing else, he can grant you a place in the Family and allow you a life for yourself, he can guide and mentor you forward to where you must go—but he cannot be with you at the finish line. 

– Generally rather neutral about your presence, he doesn’t quite realise that you’ve attached yourself to his hip until someone lists it out for him.

– He doesn’t mind being a guiding figure for you, though he doesn’t really believe that he’s the best person to do so—he might search for some guidance himself if you were to present him with something complicated. Yet he also doesn’t want you to risk being alone and without a guardian… that’s usually how people get taken advantage of.

– He’s rather busy, so he gives you tasks or errands to run while Sunday tends to his work. He does rather enjoy that you aren’t too independent, mostly because he has a prickle at the back of his mind that you might get yourself in trouble, which might lead to difficulty and danger—or even hurt. Which Sunday is rather vehemently against. 

– There is genuine interest in his questioning when he tries to get to know you, to gouge your interests, your worldview and person. Depending on you, he might either nurture those traits, or spend much time getting you to understand his own.

– He will never force or manipulate you to change your worldview or reasoning, but he will make you sit down and listen to him talk until you understand his own.

Astral Express -

Sunday felt a little overwhelmed when he boarded the Express at first—there were some rules he didn’t quite understand, and he’s never had to share a space with so many people before… so he often kept to a corner he picked for himself. 

  The crew of the Express is practically a family already, and despite your needs being very much tended to—Himeko and Welt have practically taken it to themselves to be pseudo parental figures—you don’t feel a sense of… shared kinship with many of them. 

  But there’s something about Sunday’s own struggles and reserved demeanour that makes it quite comfortable to just sit with him. He didn’t quite like it at first, some kid he’s never met before plopped themselves down by the table he’s sitting at as he stared out the long windows of the Express and made themselves comfortable despite the many other places you could’ve sat.

  But he kept it to himself, his eyes drifted back out to the vast expanse and neither of you moved until you were practically dragged by the ears to have some dinner after missing the hollers. 

  You have to be the first one to approach and sit down by him. Sunday quickly memories the Express’ routine and makes it his personal mission—at least it seems like it—to take as little space as possible, both physically and mentally, in the way of staying out of sight and mind. 

  He never declines your presence, but you never really asked either. One afternoon a day after you had accidentally rambled about a book series you had been reading to Sunday (you barely slept after realising you had talked for almost two hours) March tricked you into playing games in her room—and somehow Dan Heng as well—after a short stop on a highly commercialised planet, where she had spent all her spare credits on a console and games you had never heard of before. 

  You were a little relieved that you hadn’t seen Sunday all day despite the fact you found his presence soothing to be around—and the fact he’s an excellent listener!—but at the same time… you also wanted to ask him if he minded that you kept coming to his table. 

  The game was distracting enough, taking your mind away from your thoughts and before you knew it, two hours had passed. In fact, you wouldn’t have noticed if three had passed were it not for the fact that March’s door slid open, and Sunday peeked inside… bringing the three pairs of eyes in the room towards him. 

  He leaned back slightly when he realised his subtle peek had failed, and gave an awkward nod. “Ah… my apologies, I didn’t mean to intrude.” Sunday had wondered where you had gone—your presence hasn’t been missed at the table for several days now, and considering he hadn’t seen you all day (mostly due to his own routine) he had worried you might be sick or otherwise unable to come to the party car. 

  March, however, is unbothered. She holds one controller towards him despite the distance (and sitting on the floor). “Come play with us!” 

  Sunday’s lips part, and he nearly declines on instinct… but what else is he going to do? He found out where you were, he would just go back to the table and sit in lonesome silence. “… is it okay if I watch?”

  She shrugs. “Whichever you want, Dan Heng always wins anyway.” 

  Slipping inside silently, Sunday finds a spot on the floor to sit, and you turn to explain the mechanics of the game to him so that he can understand what he’s looking at. Sunday nods along and asks some follow-up questions regarding the characters you could pick—he doesn’t mind your blabbering at all.

– Express Sunday is a bit more reserved, he doesn’t present himself outwardly—mostly because he is in the midst of understanding himself and reevaluating his worldview. Perhaps your presence and long talks helps him further his thoughts and understandings. 

– A second perspective outside of the events of Penacony is very valuable to him now, he is quiet and listens closely as you talk—and even if you don’t, he’s listening to the ambiance of the Express, or the hum rumbling the sides of the cars. 

– Sunday sees you somewhat like himself at a younger age, a figure searching for guidance and acceptance with little to fall back on. Unlike himself, you have the Express crew to guide you forward were you to fall—and though he felt a prick of envy at the first thought, he understands that circumstances are different, and nothing will change the past. He must move on to the future. 

– He doesn’t really have ‘hobbies’, so anything you or the crew can introduce him to or tug him along for is a whole experience… though he might be a bit stiff at first, he is usually quick to learn—even when you showed him a strange puzzle mind-game developed by a branch of the Intelligentsia Guild and published to download on your phone. You saw him pondering over them for hours during long evenings.

[ckret2]

@marsupials-of-mars submitted:

I was planning to do maybe a fic and more doodles of this but now I'm busy with school so I might as well show what I did do!

Based on how the goldilocks fic seems to posit that Bill at his best is a silly professor who loves to teach his own way

Introducing Professor Locke!

Things about this idea:

-post redemption, however that will go. I'm calling it an AU because I imagine it is not your plan for what happens after lol, but currently canon-compliant.

-Bill is at first not very on board with the idea of working in the higher education system. It's a scam and it's dumb that they tell adult people how to think.

-He's eventually convinced to bless Backupsmore with his tutelage, on the grounds that they're less stuck up there, they seem to care about giving their students opportunities despite their backgrounds, and the kids there care about learning rather than going to college just because their parents said they should.

-Ford uses his academic connections to vouch for Bill even though he is very mysterious and has no academic records. This is another reason why they picked Backupsmore: i's a little more lax when presented with a shockingly smart mystery professor. Bill gets an interview and charms the pants off the university president.

-He teaches "astrophysics" in theory (that's the job description) but he ends up teaching a little bit of everything.

-He's one of those professors you either adore or despise. He's very loud, often outright mean, and if you're too shy to speak up in class he does not give a SHIT about you. You gotta want it!

-However, his class is notoriously easy. He thinks homework and tests are facist, but he's required to have a curriculum, so his "quizzes" are like a few true or false questions and then a short answer where he asks something he thinks would be funny or wants to hear about, like "what's the dumbest thing another student has said in class since the last test and why was it dumb" or "fashion advice: what's the coolest thing I wore this last week? Extra credit: draw something cooler I SHOULD wear."

-as a result, students who have completely unrelated majors will take his class. If they end up being interested, he deems them worthy. If they're just there to be lazy, he will bully them into dropping out.

-Mabel buys him stickers to put on people's tests when they pass, or to just hand out when they something he likes. He gets along most with the college kids who know how to appreciate a classic gold star.

-He really wanted a big pretty lecture hall, where his voice would echo and he could point at a big chalkboard. But all Backupsmore could provide was a cinderblock and linoleum basement classroom. The lights buzz very loudly and it smells musty. They have stools and folding tables. Bill finds he enjoys the more intimate environment where he can walk between the tables and also sneak up on people.

-He's broken multiple folding tables by trying to do the cool professor thing where you hop up onto your desk and cross your legs and talk all casual. He is able to do this on his own desk thankfully. It's aluminum.

-Ford gets a bit nervous if he did the right thing when bill tells his school stories at the dinner table, so he finds an excuse to accompany Bill to a campus event where he can meet some of his students.

-His fears are quickly assuaged when he sees how beloved Bill is and how well he gets along with the kids. When he eventually joins in on one of these conversations, one of the students asks if he's Sixer. The students are excited by this. Bill tries to shut them up, to partial success.

OK I guess I just ended up writing the fic more or less so enjoy I guess lol.

Aww, this is adorable! Thank you! (And the fact that you're imagining a future for Bill makes me so happy.) He's absolutely be the weirdest professor in the school and he'd ADORE having a crowd full of trusting impressional minds whose parents are paying him to change the way they think. Talk about playing to his strengths.

Your idea is so wholesome, meanwhile the moment I saw "Professor Bill" I went,

[fancyfeathers]

Always Prey But Never A Bird

Based on the Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling series

Previous Chapter <- Chapter Eight -> Next Chapter

Taglist: @jsprien213 @toast-on-dandelioms @plsfckmedxddy @lilyalone @sydneyyyya @yandere-wishes @cxcilla @nemesis-writer

“Miss Wayne, any comments about your disappearance?”

“Miss Wayne, where have you been for the last four years?”

“Miss Wayne, does your father, Bruce Wayne, approve of your engagement to Gabriel Christel?”

“Who will you be wearing at your wedding?”

“Miss Wayne, will you family be invited to your wedding?”

“Miss Wayne…”

“Miss Wayne…”

“Miss Wayne!”

A sudden flash of a camera made you flinch and stumble backwards, an environment you had once lived in and you were now being thrown back into.

You had returned to the penthouse after you woke up at Selina Kyle’s apartment, arriving just in time for breakfast with Gabriel, his parents, and a new hired wedding planner, but they did not last long because their idea of some high class celebrity wedding that felt tacky and just for show, all about guest lists and who is going to be wearing what. They tried to push back on your wants, you two were very high profile people and your wedding should match, but even that was breaking point for Gabriel, he snapped at the wedding planner, telling them to leave, or rather yelling at them to leave.

So now you had just been dropped off at Gabriel's mother's boutique for some sort of surprise after you and Gabriel did some of your own wedding planning after breakfast. You just did not expect the swarm of gossip column reporters and paparazzi, even if you grew up with it you were no longer used to it, you felt like an absolute deer in the headlights.

“Excuse me, but Miss Wayne is taking no questions at this time.” Like she was your hero, the doors to the famous fashion’s designer boutique opened up and a hand came to rest upon your shoulder, like your guardian angel Mrs. Christel came to your rescue, pulling you away from the press and back towards her fashion house. “Please save all questions for a later date when Miss Wayne is ready for a proper interview.”

You heard their shouts of protest as you were tugged back into her building, leaving the press stuck outside, still shouting their questions. You breathed a sigh of relief as you watched the doors close behind you as you walked deeper into the designer’s gallery, your future mother in law interlocking your arm with hers.

“Reporters and paparazzi, they are like rats or cockroaches.” She sighed. Her hand squeezes around your arm. “Even when you think you have stomped them out and think they are dead, they always come back, desperate for another taste.”

“I… I don’t know about all of that.” You muttered, feeling yourself shrink into yourself. “A-anyway, what is the surprise?”

“It is not my surprise, I just helped plan, closing the doors of my humble boutique to the public for a few hours.” Humble was not the exact words you were looking for, this was a high end fashion boutique, the most esteemed in the city, perhaps practically in all of the East Coast, the place had marble flooring and crystal chandeliers. She led you into one of the departments of the boutique, the wedding dress department which was only open to appointments and there you saw two very familiar ladies.

“M-mom! Selina!” You yelled out, running over to the woman sitting on one of the white velvet sofas along with Selina, glasses of champagne in both of their hands, though your mother passed hers over to Selina as you came running into her arms, nearly knocking her over and off the couch she sat on and the sound of hers and your laughter filled the empty designer boutique.

“Miss Kyle contacted me earlier this morning before breakfast and asked if I could set this up.” Your future mother in law smiled, walking back to the dress racks, seemingly where she had already picked a few dresses out, along with your mother and Selina no doubt before you got here. “But you Mrs. Wayne, I have not seen you in ages, truly a sight for sore eyes, but how ever did Miss Kyle get you out of that manor your husband owns?”

“Trust me when I say you don’t want to know.” Your mother replied as you scooted over to sit next to her on the sofa she sat on. You certainly knew what that meant when she said that, Selina snuck her out, probably when everyone in the manor was still asleep. “Let’s just say my husband will not be happy when he realizes I am gone.”

You definitely knew now that Selina snuck her out.

“Well it is a shame your husband and other children do not approve of the union of our daughter and son, it would be nice to have Bruce Wayne’s blessing, then perhaps we could finally get along.” Your fiancé’s mother sighed, taking back the dresses that were already picked out and hanging them up in the dressing room which was connected to this little lounge you all found yourself in. “Oh I remember that time where your little Damian got all up in knots over your daughter kissing my son, that was sure to be an interesting meeting with the principal.”

“Ah yes… my apologies, that was an unfortunate chain of events, my stepson has always been protective over my little girl, she is his little sister and his blood sister no less.” Your mother’s hand trailed down to your own, giving it a soft squeeze. “Besides Damian has always had his anger issues and over protective tendencies, the ladder is something he very much inherited from his father I believe.”

“That reminds me, who is Damian’s mother? You are his stepmother so it is not you and he is not adopted like the rest.” Your future mother in law leaned against the door of the dressing room, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. “Don’t tell me the Brucie Wayne had an affair with another woman while he was with you during your original engagement to him.”

“No… Damian was something… actually you really do not want to know that one.”

______________________

“Hmm, I don’t know, I quite liked the lace one.”

“Yes, but that one is a very select taste, maybe we stick with the silk.”

“I think the plunging neckline looked quite pretty on you, that way you can wear a statement necklace.”

You have lost count of all the dresses you have tried on for the three older women, they were probably having more fun out of this than you were at this point, having you dress up like a doll.

“I need a break.” You sighed dramatically as you leaned yourself up against the open dressing room door, glancing back at the older women in the room. “How many more dresses are there?”

“Well I have about a dozen dresses a designer friend of mine sent me from their boutique in Barcelona.” Your future mother in law commented which made you groan loudly and Gabriel’s mother glanced at your mother and she smiled, reaching for a white paper bag that is reminiscent of the ones you would get with a purchase from a designer store. “But I suppose there is just one more for today.”

“What is it?”

“This was my mother’s wedding dress and her mother’s wedding dress. I am the one who didn’t wear it because it is so important to our family and I didn’t feel like I deserved to wear it on my wedding day, but maybe you would like to wear it.” She walked towards you, handing you the bag with the dress inside.

“Thank you, mom.” You smiled at her, swallowing down any crying so as to not make a scene and ruin the happy moment you all were having. You let her push you back into the dressing room and close the door once you were inside.

You set the bag down on the small bench in the dressing room and you pulled out the dress from the bag and for how old it is the dress was in perfect condition. It was an older style, the top was covered in lace that created a transparent turtleneck with long sleeves and the underdress made up charmeuse with a sweetheart neckline and tulle puffing out the skirt a little bit, sort of a toned down version of a Victorian style wedding dress. You had seen photos of your grandmother and your great grandmother wearing this dress before, but your mother never wanted to, her marriage did not deserve such a privilege in her own eyes.

You slipped on your mother’s family’s heirloom dress pull the sleeves over your arms and the lace was soft, not itchy like you imagined, but when you tried to reach to the back and button it up since it had no zipper you could not quite reach them or see them. You sighed and opened the dressing room door, peaking your head to look at your mom. “Hey mom, could you help me button up the back? I can’t quite reach the buttons on it.”

“Yes, of course, my sweetness.” She replied to your request, standing up from where she sat next to Selina and your future mother in all, walking into the dressing room with you and closing the door behind her. She pulled your hair over your shoulder before her hands began to make quick work of buttoning up the back of your dress, her nimble and quick fingers doing her best to get a hold of the small fabric buttons. “You look so beautiful, I am so happy for you my darling little girl… I just wish I could be there, but you know…”

“I understand mama, life… life has been rough on us, especially you.” You sigh, slightly flinching as you feel her icy cold, freezing hand brush up against your bare skin over your spine. “But at least we have this, right?”

“…right.” She sighed, her face turning sorrowful before you watched her form a bittersweet smile across her lips. “You are going to make the most beautiful bride, I just know it, and I see it as well in this moment now.”

“I love you mom.”

“I love you more, my little bug.”

Eventually your mother finished and opened the dressing room door and you were entirely prepared for the doting comments from Selina and your future mother in law but instead you got assaulted with a mesh of black fabric being thrown right at your face. You caught the dress, a black wedding dress for those who were more their style.

“Wear that one, it fits.” Your body tensed up as you heard an all too familiar voice, Damian. Your eyes shot up to look at your older brother across the room and walking towards you and his current state of anger was clear. Selina was just sitting there on the velvet sofa, sighing and shaking her head in clear disappointment, meanwhile your future mother in law was busy taking out her phone and calling up her security, all while wondering how he even got past them and into her boutique.

“It’s my wedding, not my funeral, Damian.” You snap back at him, settting the black wedding dress down on the white velvet sofa next to Selina as Damian grabbed your mother by her wrist and began dragging her out of the room, but not before he looked back at you, a glare like daggers in his eyes.

“It might as well be.”

There was a silent gasp that escaped your lips as he spoke those words, your lips agape in shock at his hurtful words and your brow furrowed as he turned away from you, pulling your mother out, you can only imagine the scolding she is going to get on the ride back to the manor and the scolding she will get back at the manor as well.

You broke…

You fell to your knees crying…

Your heart broke, being hurt by a person you always told yourself you hated.

______________________

You left the boutique shortly after your mother was taking away by Damian, Selina left with you but you decided to tell her that you were walking home, well the penthouse, since the paparazzi was long gone by now. In actuality you were not going back to the manor, you lied to Selina.

You stepped into a back alley, it was about a block away from the boutique and three blocks away from the building the penthouse was in on the top floor. Your heart pounded in your chest as you unzipped your white Italian leather purse, a designer brand which was a gift from your future father in law, and you pulled out that beautiful silk scarf you had been gifted by Talia Al Ghul. Your hands were shaking as you wrapped it around your neck, your breathing growing unsteady.

You closed your eyes as if by clockwork you felt two other presences in the ally way, barely hearing the footsteps of the two members of the League of Assassins, looks like they have been following you.

“Just… don’t leave any visible bruises please, I can’t explain them to my in-laws.”

“My lady, if we did that we would be a good as dead.”

That was the last thing you heard before you felt a swift finger press against a pressure point on your neck and your body grew rigid, numb. You could of sworn you felt something being pressed against your lips and nose but you could not quite process that or anything, everything just felt numb…

Being kidnapped was just like falling asleep.

______________________

Your body felt as if it was as heavy as metal as you woke up from your drug induced sleep, you opened your eyes but everything was blurry, you still could not feel anything in your body, you could barely hear anything either, it was as if your ears were stuffed with cotton.

Your fingers felt ice cold, it was like they had been soaking in ice water from the Arctic Ocean. The feeling of a freezing cold like numbness made you panic for a moment, almost thinking your fingers would fall off or maybe your entire hands would.

Your head had a roaring headache, the type you could get after falling from a building and getting a severe concussion, but that was quickly fading away as you felt hands push you to sit up, hands maneuvering you as if you were a porcelain doll or a puppet or marionette.

Being moved around made you painfully aware of the stiffness in your spine, as if a metal rod ran through it, unable to move it probably.

You heard voices, but they were muffled and you could not quite hear what they were saying nor process their moving figures, just blurs. There was someone sitting in front of you, someone you could think was man by the outline of his build. The other was a woman sitting next to you, the one making you sit up, she was saying something to you, something you could not quite process and you felt her warm hand on your cheek, her thumb running circles on your cheek, it was something soothing from what you could process. You felt the woman’s free hand reach for something on a table, a cup, it was warm, if you were less lucid you may have mistaken it for tea, but you could smell it, it was sharp and pungent, the very scent of the hot liquid snapping your senses back into place, your control over taste, touch, sight, hearing, all flooding back to you thanks to your sense of smell.

You found yourself coughing, choking on your saliva due to the sudden shock, and you felt the woman’s hand on your back running soothing circles as her other had stroked your cheek. You could barley hear your own heartbeat, you could hear your own heavy breathing an comments, the sudden sensory overload making your body want to vomit but your stomach was already empty at the moment.

“Shh… just breathe, my dearest.” Your eyes snapped open wide at the sound of a familiar and feminine voice, your head turned to the side as your body was still hunched over from your coughing, and you looked up to see a familiar woman, albeit dressed far more comfortably than the sort of thing she wore during the times you encountered her in the nights of Gotham. You felt her hand on your cheek pinch slightly, it was affection you think, as she smiled down at you. “How are you feeling, dearest?”

“F-fine…” You cleared your throat as you forced yourself to sit up straight again. Your body felt tense as you felt another set of eyes upon you from across where you and Talia sat next to each other.

“That is good, after all it has been far too long.” You felt fear itself course through your very veins as you heard the man’s voice who sat across from you and his own daughter. You kept yourself from shaking as you turned your head to look him in the eyes, his bright green eyes sending intense shivers down your spine. You had only met him once or twice before, and neither time could be described as exactly peaceful, both were times you were dragged along by Damian after you were caught after you snuck out of the manor to go to parties or your friend’s houses in high school and you had gotten caught up in his family drama on your way home all while trying to get away from your own.

The far older man smiled at you, a smile you would have placed as a kid or affectionate if you did not know who this was, and knowing who this man was just made you want to shrink into yourself and pretend this was not happening.

“We have much to discuss, my dear.”

You sat across, trapped in a room with Ra’s Al Ghul.

[stsgluver]

𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 — gojo satoru

synopsis. libraries and gojo do not mix

wc. 1.3k

tags. rb!gojo, gojo x reader, reader is close friends with geto + shoko, gojo is described as an 'attention whore'

a/n. i might write for choso next since ive got some yuuji's older brother x babysitter ideas

series masterlist

“say it again.”

“now you’re just fishing for compliments.”

gojo’s head rested on his crossed arms as he stared up at you with those cerulean eyes that you so adored. he wore a confident grin as he shrugged off your allegations, “i’m gorgeous who wouldn’t want to compliment me?”

you scoffed, maybe a little too loudly for the student library you were currently in (they dreaded whenever you walked in with your snowy-haired boyfriend in tow since he couldn’t shut up for more than thirty seconds). “maybe someone who has three exams,” you emphasised by showing him your laptop screen with more tabs open than you could count, “in the next week and actually wants to study so they can pass.”

“my trust fund’s probably more than you could ever make working,” gojo waved a hand dismissively.

“that’s brilliant, satoru,” you deadpanned, “i’m not leeching off of you.”

“it’s not leeching, it’s love,” he said wistfully, blowing you a kiss.

you shook your head in disbelief – his parents had raised him in such a controlled environment, teaching him about his future important roles and the importance of his wealth. he’d risk it all for you and a relationship that he was not even sure was forever. well, in gojo’s mind you were forever – in his dad’s? not so much. so your boyfriend can’t exactly blame you for your hesitancy when his dad asked him at least once every week if he had broken up with you yet.

“i will never understand you.”

“but you do baby. better than anyone.” there was a sincerity in his tone, one that convinced you that he was right and you two were meant to be it for one another. he leant forward to press a quick peck on your lips, sitting himself back down far too soon for your liking. you weren’t even ashamed by how quickly he had you staring back at him with hearts in your eyes.

“this is a public space. i did not come here to see that.”

you twisted your head to see shoko grimacing with geto in tow, an unlit cigarette between her lips as she stuck her nose up at the two of you. they had just come out of their own exam and you were surprised that shoko hadn’t chosen to go and have a smoke before she met you. presumably, you took it as a sign she felt she hadn’t completely bombed out. 

pulling out the seat next to you, you excitedly gestured for your close friend to sit, having barely seen her for the last couple weeks with exams and assignment deadlines. she pushed her bag off of her shoulder, dropping down into the seat next to yours, before leaning across to steal the bag of crisps that you had next to your laptop.

“where’s my kiss, pretty boy?” geto sat down in the seat opposite gojo, an over exaggerated pout on his lips, the metal hoop on the corner of his mouth jutting out. he sent you a wink when you rolled your eyes at his usual flirting with your boyfriend. 

“see!” gojo didn’t even flinch when you elbowed him in the side because of how loud he was being. one of these days they were going to outright ban you altogether and then you would never get a moment of peace to yourself to study. “he compliments me. i wish he was my girlfriend.” 

you, again, went to hit him in the side, but this time he caught your arm, pecking your cheek quickly despite you trying to wriggle out of his gasp.

“shhh,” another student in the room hissed and gojo quietly groaned (somehow always the victim in his mind), releasing your arm and slumping down in his seat like he’d just been scolded by his mother. shoko snickered at his behaviour and the look on your face.

“can we please leave?” gojo whined a little more quietly, though not by much, resting his head on your shoulder. glancing over between the two who had just finished their exam, you let out a quiet sigh. they’d made no effort to take any materials and of their bags yet so there was no way they were going to be doing any studying now either. you were outnumbered three to one.

“depends,” you slowly closed the screen of your laptop slowly, gesturing between your boyfriend and geto opposite who raised an eyebrow. “you really want suguru to be your girlfriend instead of me? over a compliment?” you folded your arms in front of your chest, trying to not laugh as you acted serious.

geto clasped his hands together, clicking his tongue, “you hadn’t told her yet?”

gojo lifted his head from your shoulder, hesitantly glancing towards you with a grin he couldn’t hide as he (unsuccessfully) tried to shuffle his seat away from yours, “i was getting there. haven’t you seen her? she’s violent, i was scared.” 

“funny that,” you pointed a thumb at your snowy haired boyfriend, “weren’t you just offering me your trust fund?” 

that peeked shoko’s interest and she held out her hand to you, “i’ll go halfsies with you on that.”

“of course, anything for you,” you agreed, slipping your hand into hers and giving it a quick shake. shoko winked now at gojo, who’s mouth had dropped wide open at how carelessly you’d just hypothetically given away half of his money.

“woah, woah,” geto raised his hands in the air, bringing the attention back to him as hbe leant back in his chair, “this changes things dramatically. i was only ever here for the money.”

gojo gasped and stood up, overwhelmed by the consecutive betrayals, pointing an accusatory finger at his best friend, “you’re literally rich yourself. how could you use me like this?” to any random onlooker, they may have actually been convinced that he was seriously devastated by his fake mistress’ words.

“yeah but spending someone else’s money means everything’s free. i’m not asking for much, i deserve a life with no burden.” shoko stood up so she could reach across the table and give him a high five. 

gojo held out his hand, aggressively raising his fingers as he listed aloud, “i’m feeling undervalued, underappreciated, under-”

your boyfriend almost jumped out of his skin as a librarian placed a hand on his shoulder. it was almost comical at how this older woman, half the height of gojo, glared up at him. “excuse me sir, we’ve had several complaints,” though her words were formal and polite, she gritted her teeth as she spoke, narrowing her eyes at the disruptive male. if it were up to her, there’d be a large sign of his face on the door with a massive, red ‘x’ through it.

“sorry ma’am,” geto stood up and bowed his head, clearing his throat as he tried not to laugh, “we will be leaving now.” gojo nodded in agreement, slipping under the woman’s grasp and scurrying out of the room with geto close behind.

“i’m going to kill him,” you muttered, although you were still smiling as you hurriedly packed your laptop back into your bag to follow after your boyfriend. 

“all of that walking for nothing,” shoko complained as you stepped outside to see gojo and geto at the bottom of the stairs. pulling out her favourite yellow lighter from her pocket, she finally lit the cigarette she’d been teasing herself with since she’d left her exam.

once you got to the bottom of the stairs, gojo hooked his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to himself. geto stole shoko’s cigarette to take a hit, blowing out the smoke upwards before he looked between the three of you. “where to now?”

“i’m treating you all to ice cream with my hard earned money,” gojo pressed a kiss to the side of your head before lightly shoving you off of him, giggling to himself. “kidding! we’re all racing and whoever gets there last has to pay.”

taglist. @jar-03 @animeflower26 @hyori2 @ja-zz

[tiamathh]

PAC Bites: Dreams

Who is sending you messages in your dreams and what do they mean??

Do not plagiarise, reword, steal, repost my work!

1 -> 3

Note: Hello! I'm Wi, previously on ukiyowi~ Welcome to my first PAC on this acc, I hope you guys like it <33 Take care and have a lovely day. Check out my Masterlist for more! <3 (there's not much rn lol). LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE V APPRECIATED!!

🌟 Masterlist

Pile 1

Hi Pile 1! Your dreams are being sent to you by your ancestors, they are trying to communicate with you and may be trying to show you glimpses of the future, maybe a little prophetic.

Your dreams are sending you messages that there is a lot of fear and anxiety that has embedded itself in your mind these days. You are being unable to stay focused, and your anxieties may be exaggerating the negative outcomes related to your work and school. The message you are getting is that you have been isolating yourself too much, and this isolation is also leading to a dissonance between what you want and what you need right now. There needs to be a change, but you want to keep continuing on the path that you are on even though you KNOW it is not right. Your dreams could have imagery related to falling or something breaking down, something like doctor strange almost? Everything is getting destroyed around you while you are stuck/trapped and unable to move, maybe even imagery of natural disasters, earthquakes particularly. It's saying that if you don't make a change, the universe will make it for you. You may be feeling helpless, but your dreams are trying to tell you that you could be victimising yourself and the powerlessness you feel could come from your environment and that you need to move, could be related to controlling partners or parents. I also heard "Weightless" like you need to let go of your past burdens and bury them so you can move forward like truly move forward, nothing superficial. Your dreams themselves could be very heavy like you wake up tired and as if you did not get proper sleep even when you do. The dreams are asking you to learn from your past hardships and be patient for your hard work to pay off, take small steps towards change but at least take those steps and don't stay immobile.

Keywords: Cancelled travel, head, influence, rope, bow, predator, memories, unwilling, your values, your community, dead snakes.

xoxo

Pile 2

Hi pile 2! You are receiving messages from your future partner, some intuitive messages about them, they are someone who is very energetic and charming, they can be someone with a big beautiful smile like a very warm smile and also like smile wrinkles because of how jolly they are constantly, someone confident and flirty, they are hot and they know it!

They are sending you messages that they are on their way and that you don't need to compromise or settle down, stay stubborn and fight for what you want because you deserve it. Your persistence is what is going to help you get to the top. Even though some of your dreams have been shattered and things may not be going your way, where you could feel like you are underachieving, you need to reduce the self-criticism and make changes and take the criticism in a constructive way so that it does not turn into self-hate. Your dream could also have imagery of cheating/lying and someone deceiving you, maybe literally pulling a cloth over your eyes. There is a message your future partner is sending you that there is someone around you may be an air sign/Gemini who could be using you for your resources, and they are very cunning like they will step on other people to get to the top, so be a little wary of them. You may have dreams of someone faceless too? Maybe feeling warm and comforted by their presence, this could be your future partner!! Lastly there is a message about authenticity and that you do not change how you are and who you are, stay honest and witty and strong, you are protected by the universe.

Keywords: spy, club, taurus, conventional, traditional, partnership, duality, complementary, mutual respect, blinded, blind trust, 777

xoxo

Pile 3

Hi Pile 3! You are the ones sending messages to yourself, it's the future version of you, because as we know time is not linear, but they come to you with good news and wanting to give you more strength.

They are sending you some messages about what your future is going to look like, you will be wealthy and stable and be able to reach the goals you have set for yourself, even if it will take time. A main message here is that everything will start going forward and pick up pace once you begin anew and form partnerships and friendships with the people around you, right now you are stagnant and that is because you are in the energy of solitude, but once you get out you will be able to enjoy life and have fun again and your career will see a lot of growth as well! You may have imagery of celebrations, and you could be having vibrant and colourful dreams as well, maybe money involved in there too. You need to depend on the people around you for now, and work hard because that's how you will see the results that you want, and you clearly will get them based on the messages coming through. See through what you start, do not let projects you start be left unfinished because it can put you in financial trouble or put financial strain on you, leading to you being held back from being able to use your resources fully. You have a lot of options right now, and you need to narrow them down, be a little grounded too.

Keywords: Legends, distracted, withdrawal, rumination, idealism, rose-coloured glasses, living in the past, experience the present.

All Rights Reserved tiamathh©® DO NOT PLAGIARISE, REWORD, STEAL!

[qprpbj]

everything that happens in the outsiders - on the greasers side - is foundationally because of poverty. like literally everything comes back to the fact that these kids come from absolutely nothing and have to fight and steal and scavenge and indulge in recklessness and violence to live. nobody in the story is inherently violent or vicious. conflating being violent because of your surroundings & where you were born with violent aggressive tendencies being something you’re just like born with and can’t help as if it’s in your bones or your blood solely because they’re poor ppl who have to fight to survive is demonizes poverty!!!

also like the outsiders was written by a fifteen year old who wrote the bare bones but frankly glosses over SO much - it’s a kids book to be fair - that realistically would’ve been ever present in these kids lives. realistically, people who grow up in circumstances similar to them are born in environments chock full of addiction, self harm, mental illness, physical illness, suicide, murder, neglect, domestic violence, rape, gangs, organized crime, not having any healthy or safe food to eat, food stamps, welfare, not having water at home, utilities being shut off, dangerous unsafe houses, no houses, people selling their bodies for money, child labour, teen pregnancy, foster care, having little or no proper education, no healthy role models, few/unsafe job opportunities, being taken advantage of for your work, being underpaid, deeply foundational systemic racism, not having accessible trustworthy healthcare, issues with the court, cps, biased legal systems. the list literally goes on forever. these are all interconnected symptoms of poverty! and they are not things that are inherent to anybody’s existence!! people who are born into these severe types of situations are never given a chance to thrive and all of the greasers know this. they don’t get the luxury of indulging in most things the middle or upper class kids do, and even then, the curtis brothers are some of the LUCKY ones. they had two loving stable present parents and food on the table and lights on and extra curriculars!!! they get opportunities even others in their own gang don’t get!!!

all of this is literally WHY darry fought as hard as he did to get out and why he came home the minute he knew he needed to, why he gave up his whole future of breaking cycles to stay stuck in the poor life he grew up in, because he’s inherently nurturing and caring, and he fights both generally and for his brothers because he has to, not because he wants to. dally is proud of his record because he doesn’t have anything else to be proud of bc he’s been a victim of circumstance his whole entire life. johnny knows he’s never gonna be able to fight hard enough to get out of the cycle he was born into. & the greasers being as cavalier as they are about these kind of things happens when people are so desensitized that they don’t notice it occurring around them anymore, and generally the gang sticks to their own and tries not to cause shit with other people. they don’t fight because they want to, they fight out of necessity. even darry. even dally!!!! & i’d be remiss to mention that breaking poverty cycles and intergenerational trauma and abuse when you’re given nothing to work with is truly one of the toughest things someone can do for themselves

tbh idek where i was even going with all this but i just rly want ppl to know that as obvious as it all might sound these are very very real things and not just like book fiction trauma porn plots nor do people wrapped up in systemic issues like these make them inherently bad or inherently violent or inherently aggressive. both these kids and real life people deserve research and care and careful choices of words and observing internal biases and to be talked about, but talked about correctly!!!

[metamorphesque]

ASALA: Armenian Secret Army for the Liberation of Armenia (part 1)

In 1915, ottoman turkey committed the Genocide of Armenians: more than 1.5 million Armenians were massacred.

Women were assaulted, raped, sexually mutilated and tortured. Many were killed by bayoneting or died from prolonged sexual abuse. The “lucky ones” managed to kill themselves, while others were sold as slaves, forced to work as prostitutes or into marriage by their perpetrators. An eyewitness testified, "It was a very common thing for them to rape our girls in our presence. Very often they violated eight or ten year old girls, and as a consequence many would be unable to walk, and were shot."

The men were usually separated from the rest of “the deportees” during the first few days and executed, but, of course, not before being tortured and mutilated. Some were crucified, beheaded, others were often drowned by being tied together back-to-back before being thrown in the water. So many bodies floated down the Tigris and Euphrates that they sometimes blocked the rivers and needed to be cleared with explosives. Other rotting corpses became stuck to the riverbanks, and still others traveled as far as the Persian Gulf.

In 1918, the young turk regime took the war into the Caucasus, where approximately 1,800,000 Armenians lived under Russian dominion. Ottoman forces advancing through East Armenia and Azerbaijan here too engaged in systematic massacres. The expulsions and massacres carried by the nationalist turks between 1920 and 1922 added tens of thousands of more victims. By 1923 the entire landmass of Asia Minor and historic West Armenia had been expunged of its Armenian population. The destruction of the Armenian communities in this part of the world was total.

And yet, despite all of this—the unimaginable horrors that plagued the Armenian nation in the early 20th century—what do you think the world did in response? After this descent into hell, after the suffering, the bloodshed, the total annihilation—what followed? Silence. Deafening, shameful silence, as always.

Silence—until it was shattered 58 years later, when, at the age of 78, having exhausted every peaceful avenue to draw the world’s attention to the Armenian Question and faced with nothing but ignorance, Gourgen Yanikyan fired 13 bullets at the Turkish consul and vice-consul. This singular act of defiance wiped 58 years of dust from the forgotten pages of Armenian history, forcing the world to confront the cause once again.By sacrificing his freedom, Yanikyan ignited a movement. His act became the catalyst for a wave of Armenian activism, inspiring the creation of ASALA, who would go on to fight for the recognition of the genocide.

In 1975, a group of Lebanese-Armenians led by Iraqi-Armenian Hakob Hakobyan, all of whose parents and/or grandparents were survivors of the genocide, inspired by Yanikyan’s self-sacrifice, decided to found an underground organization, which through armed actions will again bring the Armenian Question into the international political and legal dimension, present the recognition of the Armenian Genocide carried out by the turks in 1914-1923 by the international community, and create prerequisites for the liberation of Western Armenia. The organization was called ASALA - Armenian Secret Army for the Liberation of Armenia.

The military operations of the ASALA were mainly aimed at turkish embassies, consulates, diplomats, government officials, military and police institutions, the turkish business environment, especially the offices of "turkish airlines corporation", as well as the state and public structures of other countries, which showed financial or military support to the turkish state.

Now, why am I telling you about this today? Well, today - on September 24th marks the 43rd anniversary of the Van Operation (24/09/1981), carried out by 4 Armenian ASALA soldiers - Vazgen Sislyan, Hakob Julfayan, Gevorg Gyuzelyan and Aram Basmajyan. On this day in 1981, four Armenian youths, aged 20-24, armed with pistols, automatic rifles and explosives, seized the turkish consulate in Paris, holding it under their control for 15 hours.

4 Soldiers of The Van Operation taking off their masks

The trial of “VAN” turned into a trial of the turkish government. The “VAN” operation and the political trial that followed it played a major role in bringing the Armenian issue to the international political arena, globalizing the territorial claim and the violated rights of the Armenian people, creating a new wave of condemnation of the reality of the Armenian genocide, strengthening the pride and spirit of struggle among Armenians.

When all the hope has slipped away, It’s the mad who find a way.

Though violence is condemned, it is the cruel truth that it is the only language to which the world listens.

More about the Van Operation in the second part.

[bloomzone]

hellooo, i have a silly question:

how can i be more productive and have a better mindset? i'm currently in high school, and my grades are terribly dropping. i have 0 motivation, and i cant seem to focus on anything. i really want to be productive, but uhhh i also have strict parents.. i need help!!

hi pookie AAAH u are going through a lot let's break all that into chunks first !

How to be productive !

1.Visualize Success

Picture the outcome of completing your tasks to stay motivated.

2. Plan Your Day

Make a To-Do List: Write down tasks in order of priority.

Set Specific Goals: Break larger tasks into smaller, actionable steps.

3. Create a Routine

Establish a consistent daily schedule to build habits.

Start with high-energy tasks in the morning and save lighter ones for later.

4. Avoid Multitasking

Focus on one task at a time for better quality and efficiency.

5. Minimize Distractions

Put your phone on silent or use apps to block distractions.

Work in a clean, quiet, and organized environment.

6. Use Time Management Techniques

Pomodoro Technique: Work for 25 minutes, take a 5-minute break, and repeat.

Time Blocking: Allocate specific hours for tasks or categories.

7. Take Care of Yourself

Sleep: Ensure you get 7-8 hours of rest.

Nutrition: Eat a balanced diet to maintain energy.

Exercise: Physical activity improves focus and reduces stress.

8. Avoid Perfectionism

Aim for progress, not perfection. Sometimes "done" is better than "perfect."

9. Reward Yourself

Celebrate small wins to stay motivated.

how to improve your mindset ?

I have a blog where I talked about that with details (click here!)

High school study method

I feel you I'm also in high school and grades are ONE AND FOREVER thing to care about .Improving your grades back in high school is completely achievable if U take small consistent steps and focus on progress rather than perfection as I said before .. First, create a study plan that breaks your day into manageable chunks of work and rest—this will help you avoid feeling overwhelmed. Start with your most difficult or important subjects when your energy is highest, and review class notes daily to reinforce what you’ve learned. Don’t be afraid to ask your teachers for help; they’re there to guide you and will appreciate your effort. If you struggle to stay motivated, remind yourself why education is important—whether it’s to achieve your dream career, make your family proud, or prove to yourself that you can succeed. Celebrate small wins, like completing an assignment on time or understanding a tough concept, and reward yourself with something you enjoy. Remember, you don’t have to do it alone .. study with ur friends (I mean ppl who have interest in studying), use online resources, and focus on one step at a time. You’re capable of so much more than you think ..

Study methods !

The Active Study Cycle

1. Preview the Material

Skim the chapter or topic you’ll study before class. Look at headings, subheadings, key terms, and summaries to get an overview.

2. Attend and Engage in Class

Actively participate, ask questions, and take notes in your own words. Highlight key points your teacher emphasizes.CHANGE UR MINDSET study = great future

3. Review and Organize Notes

After class, rewrite or organize your notes neatly. Use diagrams, bullet points, or flowcharts to simplify complex concepts. TRY TO REWRITE UR NOTES UNTIL THEY STUCK IN UR BRAIN

4. Apply Active Recall

Test yourself regularly by asking questions about what you’ve studied. Use flashcards, quizzes, or apps like Anki to reinforce memory.

5. Practice Spaced Repetition

Review the material multiple times over several days instead of cramming. This method strengthens long-term retention.

6. Teach Someone Else

Try explaining the topic to a friend or even to yourself . Teaching reveals gaps in your understanding and reinforces knowledge.

7. Use Past Papers and Practice Tests

Solve past exam questions or practice problems under timed conditions to familiarize yourself with the format and improve time management.

8. Break the shit Down

Divide your study sessions into 25-30 minute chunks with short breaks in between (Pomodoro Technique). This prevents burnout and keeps you focused.

9. Create a Study Space

Set up a clean, quiet space with all the tools you need (notebooks, pens, etc.)

10. End with a Summary

At the end of each study session, summarize the main points of what you’ve learned to solidify your understanding.

strict parents and motivation!

I FEEL YOU CUZ SAME

Dealing with strict parents while staying motivated as a student can feel overwhelming, but remember: Tough times never last, but tough people do. Your parents' strictness likely stems from their desire to see you succeed, even if their methods feel harsh. Instead of focusing on the pressure, channel that energy into proving to yourself—and them—that you are capable.

Your future is created by what you do today, not tomorrow Stay consistent with your efforts, even when it’s hard. Break your goals into small, manageable steps and celebrate every victory, no matter how small. Treat your studies as a way to build your dream life, not just something to satisfy your parents.

When things feel too heavy, remind yourself: You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think You’re not alone in this journey, and every challenge you face is shaping you into a stronger person.

Finally, keep in mind: Success is the best revenge cuz One day, when you’ve achieved your goals and created a life you love, you’ll look back and thank yourself for not giving up. Trust the process and keep moving forward—you’re stronger than you think!

Stay focused on your goals and remember that small steps lead to big results. Challenges, like dealing with strict parents or tough situations, are opportunities to grow stronger. Trust yourself, keep pushing forward, and know that your effort today shapes your success tomorrow. "The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."

© bloomzone

[sitp-recs]

hello! do you know drarry fics where draco goes to prison for part of the fic or is just gettingout of prison? thank you so much1 you are a superstar

Hi anon! I do know a couple of prison fics, listed below. You might also enjoy this list with fics in which Harry takes Draco in. Happy readings!

Litany by thistle_verse (M, 7k)

With the wizarding world on lockdown due to a magic-draining pandemic, Harry is stuck in Grimmauld Place, bored and alone—until the ghost of Draco Malfoy shows up to haunt him.

Death Dreams by @writcraft (E, 9.5k)

Draco likes to keep things casual, or at least he did before Harry Potter barged back into his life.

any day now by @oknowkiss (E, 17k)

Draco supposes he should be grateful. The rehabilitation centres were the Minister’s idea, or that’s what the Prophet said anyway. Their stated objective is simple: to provide a safe space for low-tier Death Eaters and high-tier sympathisers to reconsider the entirety of their life choices.

One Thousand Bars by @lqtraintracks (E, 19k)

And I will hold on hope / And I won't let you choke / On the noose around your neck / And I'll find strength in pain / And I will change my ways / I'll know my name as it's called again

Vortex by @xanthippe74 (T, 20k)

Ten years after that conversation, the idea of perfectly-matched soulmates feels more like a curse than a blessing to Draco. Who would want a soulmate who was a schoolyard bully, a Death Eater, and a convicted felon? Certainly not Harry Potter. And Draco is determined to take this secret to the grave.

Collapse Amongst the Dying Stars by Writcraft (M, 26k)

After the final battle nothing is quite as Harry expected. Death Eaters remain unaccounted for, Malfoy is in prison and there is something rotten in Azkaban. Banned from assisting the Aurors, Harry keeps himself busy with regular visits to Malfoy and works to bring light to the darkness of 12 Grimmauld Place.

Fearful Trill by @vukovich (E, 29k)

Harry should have come out and met someone when he was younger. He should have seen a doctor about the pain in his hip while youth was still on his side. Now, he's made his peace with dying young, but maybe not with dying alone.

At Evening's End by manixzen (E, 31k)

When the dementors are removed from Azkaban, a compromise has to be made for the prison to remain secure and wizard-kind to feel safe. Harry and Ron find themselves assigned to a rotation as guards during their first year as Junior Aurors as a part of the new system. Harry finds his values challenged in the harsh environment, but an unexpected friendship may carry him through this difficult year.

On One's Knees by pir8fancier (E, 34k)

The war is over and to the victors go the spoils.

The World Starts Here by @bafflinghaze (T, 63k)

Three years in Azkaban is more than enough time for Draco to be certain that he doesn’t want to be like his parents. And the moment he gets out, Draco will make his own mark on the world and he’d do it single-handedly if necessary.

The Azkaban Letters by @romaine2424 (E, WIP)

Harry and Draco’s lives are headed in two different directions. One is destined for death or glory, while the other is going to Azkaban. Harry needs answers, and he goes to visit his Slytherin nemesis while being held for trial. The meetings in a barren, white cell changes Harry’s life. He learns the beginnings of his rich family history that had been denied him. And that there's much more to fight for than just ridding the world of Voldemort. HBP compliant.

[mariacallous]

When we walked into school on the morning of 6 November, we exchanged quick glances with the other girls in our social circle – looks filled with uncertainty and dread about the future. Because we are applying to colleges all around the country and about to leave our homes in the Hudson Valley, political issues suddenly have begun to feel a lot more personal.

Access to abortion and contraception, protection of the environment, and the growing hate and violence toward marginalized groups all have the potential to greatly impact our lives. We had only brief conversations about why Trump’s victory felt so defeating, but our shared disappointment stuck with us as we walked to our first period classes.

But as we sat down at our desks, we noticed a very different attitude among our male peers. Subtle high-fives were exchanged and remarks about the impending success of the next four years were whispered around. It didn’t make much sense. We live in a mostly liberal town in the Hudson Valley where Harris-Walz signs were posted outside of most of our friends’ houses. This is not to say that families with dissenting opinions don’t live in our town. But the boys that were the most vocal in their enthusiasm about the election results have progressive parents just like ours.

As these startling observations made us look back on the last couple of years, we started to realize that maybe this wasn’t as unexpected as we thought. An increased interest in pursuing the ideal masculine appearance by going to the gym and the creation of new male-dominated social activities like the infamous exclusive poker nights had seemed innocent and had been easy to write off as typical boyhood behavior.

But now all that seemed as if it was just the beginning of a new wave of male conservatism that was infiltrating our school. Obsession with achieving a more muscular body through excessive exercise and intense dieting fueled by ridiculous social media campaigns fell far outside the realm of healthy self-care. And the desire to socialize only with other boys stood in stark contrast to the co-ed activities we were accustomed to since childhood.

It hadn’t taken long for this focus on machismo to creep into these boys’ mindsets and conversations. Seemingly harmless disrespectful comments with witty undertones toward girls became commonplace, and feelings of traditional male dominance started to sneak back into our friend groups. Upon reflection, we both recall speaking about stereotypically masculine interests or topics and then hearing snickering exchanges between the boys in the room followed by targeted belittling retorts disguised as trivial jokes. It genuinely felt as though they viewed us as unintelligent or even inferior. During science lab our male lab partners read the directions aloud to us, and we had to remind them that we could actually read.

What we saw now was that all this was the result of an obsession – perhaps somewhat subconscious – with preserving an idea of traditional masculinity that both Biden and Harris threatened, in different ways. As an older, frail individual, Biden was an easy target for Trump’s aggression. While Trump’s comments seemed like an attack on Biden’s age and mental competence, they also incorporated indirect attacks on his masculinity that influenced this impressionable demographic of young men. And when contrasted with Trump’s pumping fist after the assassination attempt in July, Biden was appearing weaker and weaker while Trump was solidifying his representation of traditional male heroism.

Similarly, when Kamala Harris replaced Biden as Trump’s opponent, his goal of making his adversary seem “weak” was much more straightforward, exacerbated further by Harris’s prioritization of women’s rights in her campaign. Still, because our town is considered such a progressive bubble, we never thought the tone of the election was connected to the changes we were observing in our male peers. But Trump’s calculated direct focus on young boys was strong enough to win them over.

While these are just observations within our own high school, we believe that this is happening across the country. Young, well-off white boys from liberal families are being tempted by conservatism simply to protect an archaic idea of masculinity that guarantees them inherent power. It is not as if they are against abortion, or care much about the economy or immigration, or even feel remotely attracted to the rest of conservative dogma. But clearly, a shift back toward traditional gender roles is resonating with them now as progression toward female empowerment threatens their already delicate self esteem.

So how do we address this, going forward? How do we ensure that young boys practice critical thinking instead of falling victim to Trump’s rhetoric with its focus on recommitting to gender stereotypes that we believed had finally been eradicated?

Parents, we urge you to be aware of this growing phenomenon and teach your children about the dangers of calculated political movements designed to further one politician’s agenda. Until we do so, it is likely this pattern will continue. Boys in our school as young as eight are beginning to exhibit these same misogynistic tendencies that we never remember noticing when we were their age. And the most dangerous aspect of this is how little it’s talked about in mainstream media and how easily it has been overlooked in progressive communities. In fact this is an epidemic that will continue to spread rapidly until we start talking about it.

So look closely because these boys will be among the voters responsible for deciding our future elections.

[haosweater]

waiting in the rain

content: student! seonghwa x gn! reader, fluff, angst. inspired by my neighbour totoro’s setting. warnings: mentions and descriptions of death, some swearing, description of a panic attack.

summary: you and seonghwa were determined to get out of the dreary town you lived in and move to the city. unfortunately, sometimes things just don’t go as planned.

word count: 3.3k

note: another angst with hwa in it… no, i do not enjoy making hwa stans feel pain. i enjoy hurting everyone. get it right. (i started this back in 2021 and finished it today so it’s not proof read. forgive me)

it was raining again.

staring up at the sky, you hold your umbrella steadily. the transparent film allowed you to see how beautiful the sky was. white clouds float by slowly, their mystical tears staining the earth as a reminder of their ethereal presence.

your small village was close knit, but sometimes, suffocating. the villagers led humble lives as farmers, carpenters, florist, bus drivers– everyone was content with their simple lives. well, everyone except you and—

“y/n!”

you crane your neck to the right and smile. the rain patters gently against your skin, puddles surrounding you. there was not a single car in sight, the delightful smell of rain in the air. nature thrived in your small town– your home.

that pink hair is a familiar yet comforting sight. it’s accompanied with the scent of honey and mint, a melodic voice that would make even the coldest of hearts melt. his eyes shone like the fireflies at night, smile as sweet as the flowers in his parent’s own garden. park seonghwa was the definition of perfection. well, at least to you, he was.

you and seonghwa had this little habit that everyone in the village knew about.

every morning before school, you would meet him at the bus stop behind the small stream near your house. it had been that way ever since you were five; holding hands as you walk to school merrily, basking in each other’s warm presence.

“seonghwa!” you shouted, waving at him enthusiastically as he ran up and hugged you tight. “i’ve been waiting for like, more than y en minutes, where were you?”

seonghwa giggles. “sorry! i took a shortcut that joong suggested, but it took longer than i expected.”

you feign annoyance, huffing as you crossed your arms. “come on, y/n,” he whines. “forgive me, please? i have a special place to bring you to today.”

“what is it?” you ask, curiosity getting the best of you. seonghwa grins, putting a finger against his lips. “a secret? really, hwa?” you roll your eyes.

“be patient,” he nags, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the forest. you can’t help but smile, looking adoringly at your best friend.

seonghwa pulled you through the forest, helping you climb the slopes swiftly. the sounds of critters and bugs filled the air, fitting for the environment you were in. it was a peaceful journey, enjoying each other’s presence, basking in the warm sunlight. a comforting feeling filled your heart, putting a smile on your face.

you trudged across the river carefully as seonghwa laughed, splashing water at you. “hey!” you shouted, sending a splash of water his way as he shrieked. “get back here, park seonghwa!”

“catch me if you can!” he stuck his tongue out at you childishly. scooping a handful of water up, you chase after the boy, water dripping down your arms. many would fail to believe you were both almost eighteen.

tossing the water at him, you giggle in delight when he yelps, trying to run off. “oh gosh, that’s cold,” he shivers as you scoff, dismissing him.

“stop being so dramatic, hwa. you’re not going to die,” you lament as he laughs, shaking his head. “anyways, where’s this place you wanted to bring me to?”

“right here.”

you follow his gaze, and gasp in awe. the sight before you is absolutely gorgeous– an entire field of forget-me-nots. the small, baby blue flowers swayed gently in the wind, as if putting on a dance for you.

“oh my god, hwa,” you can feel the grin on his face. “this is beautiful.”

he takes your hand, fingers intertwining with yours to pull you along. “come,” he encourages you with the gentlest voice ever. “there’s so much more to see.”

the field of flowers smelt like heaven to you. it was as if you were in heaven. you weren’t complaining– seonghwa was your guardian angel and really the only person you needed in this life.

“oh, is is absolutely magical,” you say, spinning around. “how on earth did you find this place?” you ask as he giggles. oh, his giggle is a soft melody that prances in the wind like a dandelion. it’s soft, sweet, ethereal– you wanted to bathe in it forever.

his smile is a breath of fresh air. “i just happened to stumble upon it one day after school. it’s like another world, isn’t it?” his gazes into the horizon with a smile. he looks down at you, eyes filled with care and love. “i don’t know how i got so lucky.”

you blush at those words, quickly looking away. seonghwa truly knew how to render you speechless. before you could process anything further, seonghwa grabbed your hand and pulled you along.

“dance with me, y/n!”

it was like you were dreaming. your feet moved clumsily along with seonghwa’s, trying to keep up. he held your hand and spun you around, giggling as you held onto his arms tightly. “don’t drop me!” you squeak as he dipped you down.

his face was extremely close as he leaned to press his forehead against you. “i’d never even dream of dropping you,” as you bathed in the warmth of the sun. you never wanted to wake up from this dream.

after prancing around in the flower field for a few hours, giggling and whispering sweet nothings to each other, you and seonghwa had to part ways.

“must you go?” you ask, a hint of sadness in your voice.

he gives you a soft, yet sad smile. “it’s okay, y/n,” he caress your cheek with the back of his hand. “i’ll see you again soon.” he pulls you into a hug and you melt into it, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. he smelled like vanilla and strawberries, a sweet concoction that made you dizzy with delight.

you pull away and try to mask your disappointment with a smile. he chuckles, ruffling your hair in a playful manner.

slinging your bag over your shoulder, you turn and wave to him. the boy waves back, walking further and further down the road. even after the pink of his hair disappears into the fog, you stare into the abyss.

“y/n?”

you spin around, surprised by the two voices you hear behind you. “oh! joong! yunho!” you smile as they wave at you. “what are you guys doing here?”

the blue haired male shrugged, stealing some chips from the taller boy who sent him a glare. “hey, y/n. school ended early today so we were on our way to that new cafe that opened,” yunho explained, offering you some chips.

“oh, shit, wait a minute,” hongjoong grumbled as he fished through his bag hurriedly. “we got our exam results today.”

yunho snickered at the elder male’s frantic behaviour. “our poor class president here was tasked to hand you your papers,” he nudged hongjoong who threw him a glare.

“where were you today, y/n?” hongjoong asked, handing you a stack of papers. “you got the highest marks for literature again,” he winked at you, pushing his thick-framed glasses up.

yunho sighs. “yeah, and i failed math. again,” he kicks a rock into the stream, watching as it sinks. “fantastic.”

you giggle “i was out in the forest with seonghwa the whole day,” you grin at the two boys. “we ended up venturing deeper past the stream and found a whole field of forget-me-nots.”

the taller male shoots you a confused look, shoving his hand into the packet of chips. hongjoong sighs and glances behind you. “y/n–”

“oh! i need to get home!” you glance at your watch. “my parents are going to kill me if i’m out past curfew. see you guys tomorrow!” you shout while running off as hongjoong let out a deep sigh.

“what on earth was she talking about? is she still…?” yunho’s voice trailed off.

hongjoong looks up at him, unsure. “yeah. i don’t know how to… i don’t…” he sighs yet again as yunho pats his shoulder.

“we’ll figure it out, hyung,” the brunette says softly. “it’ll take time, you of all people should know that.”

the older male can only bite his lip and nod, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. he knew all too well. truth be told, he hated that he knew it.

it’ll take time.

the next day, you woke up excitedly, hoping it would be a sunny morning. the soft pitter patter of rain disappointed you, but still, you got up.

you still got up.

as you got dressed, you texted seonghwa, informing him that you would be waiting at the bus stop. it was sort of dreary, really. that road was particularly hard to navigate in the rain, but you both knew it well enough– it was the road you trudged along every day.

opening your umbrella, you bid farewell to your parents before skipping out the door. the rain didn’t diminish your spirits. sure, a thick coat of melancholy rested upon your soul, but your heart reigned over it.

you skipped over puddles, skillfully avoiding the splashes cars speeding by created. humming a soft tune, you looked up at the sky with a smile. everything was going to be okay, as long as seonghwa was there. you knew it’d be okay.

as you approach the bus stop, you spot a figure standing near it. with a grin, you begin to walk faster, calling out your friend’s name. the rain was a extremely persistent, however, easily overpowering your voice. you inhaled a deep breath, ready to shout his name again, but stop.

instead of the usual pink hair, you see a head of blue.

hongjoong.

“what are you doing here, joong?” you ask, approaching slowly. he doesn’t reply, and you think he hadn’t heard you.

so you move even closer, about to call out to him again. it’s only when you kick a puddle of water, drenching your shoes that you realise hongjoong is standing in the rain, absolutely drenched. “hongjoong!” you stand up and grab his wrist. “you’re going to get sick!”

before you can do anything, he pulls you towards him instead. dropping your umbrella, you feel the rain begin to soak you, the cold feeling of water dripping down your skin engulfing you whole.

you let out a gasp, about to glare at the boy, but don’t. hongjoong was crying.

“j-joong?” you stutter out in shock. “what’s going on? why are you crying?”

“i’m sorry.”

hongjoong’s voice comes out as a whisper. he sounds so small, so meek, so timid– it genuinely terrifies you. never had hongjoong shown such a vulnerable side of himself.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” he wails, knees giving out. “i’m sorry, y/n– it’s all my fault, i’m so sorry.”

his nails dig into your skin as he gasps for air. confused, you were trying to make sense of what hongjoong was saying. what was his fault?

what had hongjoong done that weighed so painfully on his conscious? why was such a bitter confession slipping off his tongue, to fill only your ears? a deep, profoundly vile feeling filled your throat.

your vision strayed from hongjoong.

when did the path look so dreary? so dark and lonely? this road was one that had filled your memories with joy, comfort, love and warmth. the sight of your best friend running down the gravel, careful to not slip clouded your mind. his pink hair bounced softly, his mere presence more radiating than the sun itself. the droplets of rain running down his face, that contagious, goofy grin of his— that was what you saw when you looked down this road, and yet… and yet it looked so different now. what had changed—

“he’s not coming back, he’s gone— he’s dead, y/n, and it’s all my fault!’

hongjoong’s wails startle you slightly. you’d never heard him sound so broken like that. “what are you talking about, hongjoong?” you say ever-so gently, taking his calloused hands into yours. he is almost inconsolable, his sobs and wails echoing alongside the soft pattering of rain.

the blue-haired boy looked up at you, cupping your cheeks in his hands. “seonghwa is gone, y/n,” hongjoong’s voice is raspy, dry and aching. “please, y/n, you have to realise that he is gone.”

you sigh, rubbing your thumb gently over his knuckles. pushing his hair back, he sobs even harder. you allow him to muzzle his face into the crook of your neck, his tears staining your skin. the clouds thundered and roared at you both, as denial seeped deep into your veins.

no, seonghwa wasn’t gone.

“oh, joong, he’s not gone,” you whisper, stroking his head gently. “he’s taking the shortcut you showed him here–”

“no, y/n– he dead!”

hongjoong’s voice rang in your ear as he pushed you back. you look at him, the way he trembled from the cold. “he fell into the river along the shortcut i showed him and drowned, y/n! he’s dead!”

everything was a blur for a moment. the world went silent. the rain ceased. even hongjoong disappeared. nothing seemed to matter, except processing what he had just said.

seonghwa was dead.

“n-no,” you stutter out, a migraine beginning to form at the side of your head. “no, joong, you must be mistaken,” you blurt out, laughing nervously. “i just saw hwa yesterday–”

“y/n, please,” joong begged, holding your hands tightly. “he died last month, y/n, you need to accept that. he’s gone.

flashbacks. a flurry of memories came crashing onto you at the speed of light as you winced, grabbing your head in pain. the funeral, the crying, the coldness, the pain, the loneliness, the grief– it all came crashing down.

“no,” you whispered, clawing at your scalp. “no, no, no, hwa,” you gasped as hongjoong sobbed. “oh my god, no, this can’t be!” you shout, looking at your friend, hoping this was just a sick joke.

the look on his face told you it wasn’t.

staring at him, your body felt numb yet completely overwhelmed at the same time. your heart pounded against your chest, words stuck at the back of your throat. you didn’t know what to say, nor what to do.

so you ran.

hongjoong’s voice trailed off as you sped down the forest path. you ran as fast as your feet could carry you. as you passed the river, you glance at it, the image of seonghwa’s face flashing in your mind. you wince, tears streaming down your face as you pulled your gaze away.

you continued to run. the sounds of twigs snapped under your weight, leaves rustled as you ran through the woods. your chest heaved as you struggled to breathe, completely exhausted.

and yet, you kept running. you refused to stop. you refused to stop until you saw it. you refused to stop until you got to–

you stopped.

the flower field.

“seonghwa!” you shouted, tears streaming down your cheeks. you were breathless, sweat dripping down your forehead. “park seonghwa!”

the desperation laced in your voice was heart-wrenching. it was raw and scratchy, and painful. you spun from left to right, praying that when you turned around, seonghwa would be standing there, alive and well.

unfortunately, you only got half of what you wished for.

seonghwa stood before you. pink hair, pink lips, soft and kind eyes– indeed, that was park seonghwa.

but he was not alive.

you cannot stand to look at him. you choke back a sob, hand clamping over your mouth as you turn away. you knew that if you looked at him, you wouldn’t be able to control your tears.

“you have to let me go, y/n.”

it’s funny how his words sounded so different despite its familiarity. you turn to your left and stare at the pink haired boy who smiles, tears streaming down his ghostly pale cheeks.

“you need to let me go.”

damp cheeks. quivering lips. fists clenched so hard, they turned white. the air was still, tension thick. it was hard to breathe. you held seonghwa’s hands tightly, worried that he’d slip away the moment you let go.

“how can i?” you whisper, tears blurring your vision. “i can’t let you go, hwa. not when i’ve spent my whole life with you. how do i live this new life when all i’ve known is one with you?”

the boy smiles. it’s a sad, pitiful smile. you hate it. “you need to, y/n. i’ll always be here– in the trees, the flowers, the breeze,” he trails off. “in your heart.”

“but i need you here with me,” you sob. “how am i to go on without you? i’d wait in the rain for you forever, hwa. i cannot live without you.”

the tears that rolled down hwa’s cheeks shone like stars. “you’ll have to learn, y/n. time will heal you,” his breath is shaky and uncertain. “i’m sorry,” he whispers, hands cupping your cheeks.

you shake your head, putting your hands over his. “no, don’t apologise. please,” you beg, looking up at him. you stared into his eyes, biting your lip to stop it from trembling.

his thumb brushes against your lip gently, eyebrows furrowed. “don’t do that,” he whispered. “you’re hurting yourself.”

your grip on his shirt tightened as you stare into his eyes. god, how could fate be so cruel? why would the gods curse you with such tragic destiny?

the boy wiped your tears away, his own tears slowly rolling down his cheeks. you nuzzled your face into his hands, your gaze filled with desperation and desire.

with that, seonghwa swooped down and kissed you.

you held onto him tightly, kissing him back with the desperation that clung to you so desperately. he tasted divine– like white chocolate and strawberries.

you could feel his tears fall, your own following suite, but you refused to pull away. this is something you had wanted for the longest time, and you weren’t about to let it slip away.

alas, all good things have to end. you panted, forehead pressed against his. “don’t go, hwa,” you plead. “please.”

he lets out a sad laugh, pressing a kiss to your forehead in an attempt to console you. “i have to, y/n,” he hums. “i’ll see you again soon, okay?”

you look up frantically at the sight of seonghwa fading away. “no! hwa, please, please!” you cry out, grasping onto him.. “what about all our plans, hwa? to leave this place? to get an apartment in the city? to live our life to the fullest together forever? what about all that?”

seonghwa was full on sobbing now, trying to hold onto you as well. “i’m sorry, y/n. i’m sorry, please hold me,” he begged and you hugged him tightly. “i love you, y/n,” he confesses. “god, i love you. you are the light of my life– my god-given solace. you’re my soulmate, y/n, and i’m so, so sorry. please forgive me– god, please.”

“seonghwa,” you whimper, holding onto him as he finally faded away. he had become one with the wind, the earth, the water– he was gone.

park seonghwa, your best friend, soulmate, and love of your life, was gone.

you let out a chocked sob, knees giving way as you fell to the ground. your pants were soaked with rain water and mud, but you couldn’t be bothered.

“i didn’t get to tell you i love you too.”

as the rain began to fall once again, you sat at the bus stop behind the stream. this small town was once a place you and seonghwa had always dreamed of leaving, but now you knew.

this dreary small town of yours, would consume your soul, as it did, his.

[fowlblue]

quick Artemis sketch for a new AU that I’ve been thinking about-

Kinda long and convoluted AU plot but I’ve been listening to TAI and the mental image of Artemis in a big old fluffy coat possessed me, so-

The Fowl Star deal’s been in the works for a really, really long time, and anger between Fowl Senior and Britva appeared pretty much immediately, as often happens with such criminals. Neither want to work with the other and Britva in particular is already planning on blowing the Fowls to smithereens whenever they come sailing over- but then while he’s wandering back down the Manor stairs after another meeting, he actually bumps into young Artemis, who Tim has largely tried to keep removed from Britva’s attention, because Britva is a dangerous man.

A fair caution, as it turns out, because Britva’s solution to hitting the Fowls where it hurts is to just kidnap the little Fowl heir.

Artemis is very young, enough so that he can be raised to believe just about anything, after all, and forget his former home entirely, which is wonderfully dramatic and no doubt a very painful premise to Tim and Angeline. Who knows? Maybe Artemis could one day be raised to kill his father- in the meantime, it’s a living warning not to encroach on Mafiya territory, because their son’s now in the line of fire.

Except Britva is shit at raising anything and largely just ignores Artemis’s existence, passing off his care onto any of his underlings who are free at the moment and making no effort to hide their criminal dealings. Artemis also lacks the sort of bloodthirstiness and toughness that anyone expects, raised in such a violent environment- instead of a potential heir to this new criminal empire, Artemis really just spends most of his time frightened and skittish. He’s also smart enough to easily know he’s “adopted”… he just has no idea who he really is, either, no last name, barely remembers what his parents sounded/looked like… for all he knows, they’re dead, and he’s in big trouble if he starts trying to figure it out.

I don’t know how exactly how Artemis would meet Holly, though he eventually would somehow- and given that Holly has some sympathy for humans, and Artemis wouldn’t be an antagonist to her in this AU and is moreso just… a very scared kid who just happens to be a genius, I’d like to think she’d at least want to help him, even if she can’t, really (not at first, anyways). I’m thinking Artemis wanders off while following around his latest babysitter (who’s probably disposing of some unfortunate victim or another out in the snow) and accidentally stumbles upon one of the few “fairy forts” up north and gets stuck there. Not ideal for a Mud Man, much less a Mud Boy so Holly gets sent up there to let him out of chute dock or what-not.

Foaly gets a little interested in the matter too, once he hears about it from Holly- after all, the Artemis Fowl II case was one of the largest missing persons cases in recent human history

Holly’s struggling with the weight on her conscious about whether or not they should somehow tell his parents (Foaly could always just drop the information in someone’s inbox, after all)- the centaur points out, however, that it’s probably not a matter of the Fowls not knowing who’s responsible- they just can’t get to Artemis safely. And it’s not fairy business.

(It could rapidly become fairy business, though- Artemis meets one, and suddenly, he wants to meet them again. It’s a welcome distraction from everything else he’s dealing with)

Artemis wouldn’t have the same resources, skills or the same criminal history as normal Artemis, since he’s never really been allowed to go anywhere else- this Artemis would, however, likely know how to use a weapon… even if he’s not very good at it. Instead of like… stealing priceless artwork or whatever, this Arty carries around a little box of matches, and whenever the criminal urge hits him, he goes and starts a small fire somewhere (always where there’s no risk of anybody getting hurt)

Other notes:

- Very few people in the Mafiya actually know Artemis’s first name (and they’re not allowed to call him “Fowl” under any circumstances), so a nickname that gets passed around for him is “Matchstick Boy”, due to Artemis’s aforementioned habit of carrying them around.

- What Artemis lacks in classical skills (no violin, piano playing or time spent painting for this Arty, no matter how much he really wants to learn), he makes up for in more street smarts than canon, such as picking locks or pickpocketing. Such skills come in handy for him in such a harsh environment.

- Upon eventually reuniting with the Fowls and Butlers, he’s most unnerved by Butler himself, simply because the bodyguard seems at first glance like someone Artemis has learned to avoid. Arty doesn’t even know where to start with Juliet- he’s interacted with other children even less than in canon.

- Artemis can’t be mind-wiped after meeting Holly due to the difficulty of navigating Russia’s cold and radioactivity for the People, so Holly and Foaly start humoring Artemis’s attempts at conversation in an effort to keep an eye on him and what he knows- the benefit of Artemis being a child is that no one would believe him if he did say something. Eventually, it becomes less about keeping an eye on him and more just checking on him in general, even if both don’t really know how to help him- sometimes, Artemis is injured, or behaves as if he’s in active danger. Sometimes, he just seems desperately lonely. He has no friends, no real parents or family… Holly is one of the few people to ever be kind to him, and actually help him out (if he hadn’t found the way out of that shuttle port, he may well have froze). Usually, Artemis has to look out for himself.

- While he knows he’s not Britva’s actual son (it’s fairly obvious, they look nothing alike), Artemis doesn’t hate him. He doesn’t really know how to. The man and his underlings are undeniably evil and cruel, but that’s all Artemis remembers, so he sees it as less a matter of right and wrong and more a matter of illegal/legal. Still, he doesn’t like hurting people- he knows that much.

And voila! There you go! Idk I just think it’d be a neat twist, “raised by villains” is a pretty classic AU.

[thelibraryoflightandflowers]

Secrets Come Out

Part 4 of the Garrick x Male reader series. At the Reunification Day Gala, Garrick finds out about the secret the Reader has been keeping. Angst ensues.

Read on Ao3

Link to Masterlist (for parts 1-3)

Garrick

Garrick hated everything about this stupid party. He hated the fancy clothes, hated the decorations, hated that they were celebrating the execution of his parents and were forcing him to be there. Most of all, he hated what it did to Xaden. It was cruel, forcing any of them to join in the festivities like the leaders didn’t know what they were doing. But it was even crueler to try and force Xaden, a man who had lost everything he’d loved, who was now responsible for the 107 lives that were only spared because of him, to celebrate that loss. It made Garrick too angry to think about. He’d tried to talk Xaden into leaving, maybe going for a longer flight until the party ended (if only so he wouldn’t have to stay) but Xaden had simply walked out onto the parapet, where he’d been for the last half hour. And the party hadn’t even started yet. 

You were praying to every god you could think of that Garrick wasn’t coming tonight. You hadn’t been able to slip away, and you hadn’t scheduled any leave, so you’d been stuck at the base, unable to see or talk to Garrick. Which meant you hadn’t been able to come clean to Garrick. Which meant you knew beyond a doubt that if Garrick was to show up to the cruel mockery that was this gala, he’d find out. And think (perhaps rightly so) that you’d hidden it from him. You were prepared to spend the rest of your life making it up to him if it meant that he’d hear you out. You had spent every waking free moment thinking about what you’d say; how you’d say it. You knew what you’d done was wrong, and you weren’t going to deny that. You just hoped what you had planned would be enough for him to see that you had been trying to protect him. 

Touching down on the flight field at Basgiath was nostalgic - you tried to hold onto that feeling as you watched your father’s massive dragon touch down beside you, but by the time you’d dismounted that spark of fondness had faded. You walked quickly beside your father, slipping into the court mask as easily as you had the court attire. Not that it made it any more enjoyable, or you any more prepared for this environment. Here, without Violet, you were in as much danger as a field of sheep from a hungry dragon. 

“Go, find Violet. I expect to see at least one dance from you tonight. Try not to be a complete embarrassment, will you?” Your father ordered, impersonal as ever; a General giving his orders. And like the soldier you had been raised to be, you nodded, and strode off to find the person that by the end of the night may be your only true friend. 

Garrick

“Codagh is here - and so is Melgren’s son.” The words spoken into his mind jarred him from the almost meditative state he’d previously been in, leaning against the wall next to the opening that would lead out onto the parapent, where Xaden still sat. Those words, however, jarred him enough that reflexively he turned to Bodhi, who looked about as panicked as he was sure he did. They’d known the General would make an appearance, but his son…he was another matter entirely. He wasn’t even sure what the man’s name was; no one spoke about him beyond rumors of his cruelty and talents that made his RSC class look like child’s play. He’d heard the flights talk about him more openly, mainly to curse him for his callous murder of their comrades, or the information they were sure he’d gotten out of them. And while Xaden was moping on the parapet, Violet wasn’t - she was inside the same school he now was - and the connection between the two certainly wasn’t a secret, which put a target on her back that even her mother couldn’t save her from.    

“Fuck.” He breathed. He heard a noise of agreement from Bodhi. 

“Why isn’t Xaden practically running down the parapet? Does he know?” He shot a question down the bond quickly.

“Sgaeyl doesn’t want him running into the school like he will if she tells him. It will only make it worse, for both of them.” She was right, he groaned. Xaden was going to kill them. 

“We can’t tell him.” Bodhi says quietly. 

“Nope.” He answers grimly. 

“You stay here; you look enough like him that they’ll know who you are. Plus, he’s less likely to kill you for this. I’ll go find Violet, and I’ll stay nearby.”

“Why do you have to go? Liam already said he’d go with her.” Bodhi counters.

“Liam doesn’t stand a chance against him and you know it; besides, Xaden would also kill us if we let Liam be in there alone with him.” He answers honestly. He’s already walking away, towards a battlefield he has no experience on, with an enemy he’s never seen, whose skill he cannot match or even predict based on rumors. Great.

“Violet, where is he? He’s not coming, right?” Your tone must be panicked enough for her to pick up on it under the facade, so she drags you into an alcove. 

“I haven’t seen him or any of the marked ones, no. You haven’t told him, have you?” Your shame must be almost visible for how quickly her gaze sharpens. 

“You’d better hope he’s not coming, then. Because I barely know him, and even I know that this is going to take a hell of a lot of groveling to fix.” You nod, not even trying to deny what she said. It’s the truth, after all. You just had to hope that you could prove yourself to him. That you could be the kind of man he deserved; even if you knew deep down that this relationship was probably doomed. 

The two of you silently walked towards the courtyard, knowing that there would be an introduction like there always was. You’d always hated that part the most. Standing there with the other children of the higher-ups, feeling like a trophy for your father to parade around. It had certainly never helped you make friends. You just hoped that you could get in, deal with the awkward introduction, the even more awkward dance with Violet that you’d been ordered to perform, and then go back to the base to sleep it all off. 

Garrick

He strode into the courtyard, looking for Liam or Violet. He caught sight of Liam’s tall frame, and walked towards him, avoiding eye contact with absolutely everyone as he did. 

“Where’s Violet?” He asked a bit desperately, hoping she’d already gone to bed and he could leave. But no. 

“She’s up on the dais. Apparently they always announce the higher-ups and their kids, like they do at court.” Garrick looked up towards the dais, just in time to see Violet step forwards as her name was called, curtsey perfectly, and then step to the side. The next name makes both men freeze, hands reaching for their weapons. Garrick swears he feels his heart stop as he recognizes the man who steps up to stand next to Violet as his name is called. He inhales sharply as your eyes meet his, gold and piercing in an unmistakable parallel to your father’s. He’d just never seen it, the rational part of his brain supplied, because you’d only met him in the dark. And Violet had known - that was why she hadn’t told Xaden your name; she hadn’t wanted him to figure it out. He knew Liam was looking between him and you, and didn’t even care. He watched as you jumped off the dais, bypassing the stairs in a show of athleticism that, if he wasn’t feeling all of the billion things he was currently feeling would’ve been so hot that, combined with how unfairly good you looked in your formal wear, he’d probably have dragged you off to his room to finally do all of the things he’d been wanting to do since he first met you. As it was, those thoughts only served to make him more angry. 

He turned and walked away, his previous mission forgotten now that he knew that at least you were no threat to Violet. He couldn’t believe he’d almost let himself believe that she might actually be different. He walked towards the dorms, turning down an empty hallway. 

Then he felt the hand on his arm, stopping him from running away, or even properly landing a blow onto his assailant.

Shit. Shit. Of course he’d seen. Of course he’d heard. You’d grabbed his arm without thinking, but as he writhed in your grip the only thing that stopped you from letting go of him was the way he froze when he saw you as you turned him around properly. 

“Garrick.” Your voice cracked when you saw the pain in his eyes, pain that you knew you were solely the cause of. 

“Let. Go.” He spoke through gritted teeth, clearly trying to keep whatever he was feeling at bay. 

“Please let me explain-” You started, the speech you’d prepared forgotten in your panic. 

“No. You don’t have to explain anything. It was a smart ploy, get close to me and have another way to Xaden, was that it? Why can’t any of you understand that he just wants to be left alone, just wants to make a name for himself beyond the actions of his father?” He’s trying not to yell, you know. You almost wish he would. Maybe it would stop the tears welling in his eyes from falling. You didn’t know if you’d survive seeing him cry because of what you’d done. But you also knew that he was lying, and that he didn’t know he didn’t have to. You saw an opportunity to gain a foothold, to regain some of the trust you’d rightfully lost.  

“You and I both know that’s not all Xaden Riorson is doing.” You knew the walls here had ears and eyes, but you hoped that maybe you’d been vague enough, not that you had much control over what was coming out of your mouth at this point. 

Garrick inhaled again, and the wave of anger and fear that crossed his face made you realize that he had interpreted your words not as a discrete message, but as a threat. 

“How would you kn-” He cut himself off abruptly, “Did you…did you use me for information?” You could see that he was wracking his brain, trying to remember the things he’d told you, if he’d mentioned anything. You blanched, letting go of his arm and stepping back. 

“No, Garrick I would never do that.” You hated the hurt that welled up in you at the fact that he’d even thought it a possibility.     

“How would I know that? I clearly don’t know you at all.” He snarks, and the ball of hurt making it harder to get words out grows. 

“Garrick, please, I know I was wrong to lie, but I promise you everything I’ve said to you, everything I feel for you is real, please just let me explain. Please.” Gods, you would get on your knees if it meant that he wouldn’t walk away. How the hell had this gone so wrong?

“You don’t get to explain this away. It’s not just you lying, it’s who you are. Do you think I haven’t heard all of the rumors about you, haven’t heard about what it is, exactly that you do to people? How could I be with someone who could do that? Who could enjoy that?” The venom, the hatred in his voice is what makes you stop. You’d taken a step forward, hand reaching out for him, but it froze as you realized that maybe you couldn’t fix this. He turned around, making to continue walking towards the dorms. 

“Garrick, please. I can’t-” You had to stop, to clear your throat before you could continue, “There is a lot that I need to explain, but I promise it’s more complicated than that, I just- Garrick, I love you. I will make this up to you for the rest of our lives but please let me explain.” You rushed out the only thing you could think of. It was true, you’d realized in the weeks the two of you had been apart. You loved this man. You knew you were crying, knew he was too, and knew that you were having this conversation in a very open hallway. And you didn’t care. Because he didn’t turn, didn’t stop walking, just said over his shoulder, 

“I don’t ever want to see you again.”. 

And you stood there, knowing that you’d just blown up the one good thing you’d been gifted by the Gods. 

You took a different route, out to the flight field. You’d told your dragon to be there, and he was. 

“I told Tairn to tell Violet what happened. So she’s…prepared. And told Codagh to tell his rider that you weren’t feeling well.” You simply nodded, not having the energy for words. And climbed onto his back, to begin the long flight to the base.    

[doumadono]

hey I hate to bother you but I have an emergency request. Could you write a Bakugou x Reader short where he talks the reader through some big decisions regarding the reader’s possible career path where they’re having to chose between going off and having a 9-5 job or going to continue their family farm? I’m about to graduate in the next year and my parents have been shaming me for wanting to help restart our family farm while I’m off in college.

( we had to sell most of our animals after bad droughts five years back to back, so it’s been incredibly bare as of recent and I’m going to college for Agriculture anyways, so in my mind everything makes sense).

I don’t necessarily want a big fancy job, and honestly nothing makes me happier than working animals and it’s just been hard on me to try and please my parents while also still trying to go out and do what I want.

Harvest of choices - Bakugo x Reader

A/N: please stay true to your goals, and trust that with your dedication and education, you can make a significant impact!

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST - PART 2

The city skyline stretched out before you, a dazzling array of lights and towering buildings that promised endless possibilities. The air was crisp, a stark contrast to the earthy, familiar scent of the farm you had grown up on.

You stood on the balcony of your temporary apartment located in Musutafu, clutching the job offer letter in your hands. This could be your future - a stable 9-to-5 job in a reputable company, the kind of career you had always dreamed of. But the thought of leaving the farm, your family, and everything you had known was a heavy weight on your shoulders.

Your phone buzzed, breaking your contemplation.

The screen lit up with a message from Katsuki Bakugo: "I'm outside. Let me in."

You sighed. Bakugo was never one to mince words, and you knew he would force you to confront the decision you had been avoiding.

Opening the door, you were greeted by his intense, crimson gaze, eyes blazing with the determination you had come to rely on. “Took you long enough,” he grumbled, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “What’s going on with you? You've been super off for a few past days, nerd.”

You held up the letter, the official seal of the company catching the light. “I got the job offer. They want me to start next month.”

Bakugo’s eyes flicked to the letter, then back to you. “And you’re freaking out because…?”

“It’s not that simple, Katsuki!” You grunted, your voice trembling slightly. “Taking this job means leaving the farm, leaving my family and everything I am familiar with behind... They need me there, and I don’t know if I can just abandon them.”

He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall with a stern expression after he entered your apartment. “So, you’re stuck between the fancy city job and staying on the farm. Let’s break it down.”

He motioned for you to sit on the couch, and you obliged, grateful for his no-nonsense approach.

Bakugou took a seat next to you. “First off, this city job. What’s so great about it?”

You took a deep breath. “It’s a stable career, good pay, and I’d get to use my degree. It’s something new, a chance to grow and prove myself in a different environment.”

Bakugo nodded. “Sounds solid. Now, what about the farm? What’s it mean to you?”

“It’s home,” you replied softly. “It’s where I grew up, where I learned the value of hard work and family. It’s a part of me, and I don’t want to let my family down. They’ve sacrificed so much to keep this place running.”

Bakugo’s expression softened slightly, though his gaze remained intense as he ran his calloused hand through his messy hair. “Alright, so you’ve got strong ties to the farm. But what’s really stopping you from making a decision?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I’m afraid of making the wrong choice. If I leave, what if the farm fails? And if I stay, what if I’m giving up a chance to do something more with my life?”

Bakugo placed a hand on your shoulder, gently rubbing you there with his thumb. “Listen, you’re not gonna know for sure if you’re making the right choice until you make it. That’s just how life is. But here’s the thing: you’re strong, and you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. You’re not the type to let things fall apart, no matter which path you choose.”

His words, though blunt, held a truth that resonated with you.

“But what if I fail?” You whined, shaking your head.

“You won’t,” he said confidently. “And even if things get tough, you’ll figure it out. You’ve got people who care about you, who will support you no matter what. And if anyone gives you trouble, I’ll blast ‘em to pieces.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the tension in your chest easing just a bit. “Thanks, Kats. That actually helps.”

He smirked, his usual cocky demeanor shining through. “Damn right it does. Now, let’s talk strategy. If you take the city job, how can you make sure the farm’s in good hands?”

“Well, I could hire someone to help out, maybe even a manager. I could also come back on weekends to check on things and help out where I can.”

“Sounds like a plan. And if you stay on the farm, what’s your strategy for making it more successful?”

“I could look into new farming techniques, maybe diversify our crops or start a small agritourism business. There are a lot of possibilities if I really put my mind to it.”

Bakugo nodded approvingly. “There you go. Either way, you’ve got options and a plan. You’re not going into this blind.”

You felt a surge of determination, the fog of uncertainty beginning to clear. “You’re right. I just need to commit and give it my all, no matter what I choose.”

“Exactly,” Bakugo agreed, his voice steady and reassuring. “And remember, you’re not alone in this. I’ve got your back, and so does everyone else who cares about ya. So stop doubting yourself and make the damn decision.”

With those words, you felt a renewed sense of confidence. “Thanks,” you chuckled softly, leaning forward and giving him a hug. “I needed that. Thank you for always having my back."

He hugged you back, his grip strong. “Whether it’s the farm or the city, you’re gonna kick ass. I am sure about that.”