#but that doesn’t mean a lot of people would leave

[hyperions-light]

The Poison Fruit Ripens

#defendingtheending here we go

First of all mega super ultra spoilers for the ending teaser that Steam says like… 6% ? Of players have seen? So you’ve been warned. No cuts baby, it’s Miyazaki style

Okay, so it’s the Executors, and they’re probably coming across the sea in the next game (if EA doesn’t nuke BW), from what I can gather. I mean, this is fine from a lore perspective. All we knew about those people before is that 1) they are mysterious 2) they are from over there, across the ocean

And now they’re maybe connected to the revealed Qunari lore, which I am ! So excited to have! We already knew that the Qunari fled across the ocean for unspecified reasons, and that going back there was Not A Thing. But now we know that they left because of the (probably metaphorical?) Devouring Storm, which could be connected to the Executors. What are the odds that there are two separate Huge Bad Things Over There that both want to destroy Thedas? Probably is just one big thing— also the title Executor implies they are doing the bidding of someone else, so whatever the Qunari were talking about could be it. (They also talked about being agents of someone else’s will in the Inquisition War Table quest).

So the cinematic shows a bunch of our prominent villains from the previous games being influenced in some way by the Executors. Which I think people are upset about, but I think it’s fine because:

- They did not really specify the manner of influence. I would be annoyed if they retconned Loghain’s decision to leave Cailan on the battlefield because it makes him interesting, but they didn’t say that. They just said they influenced his decisions. They could have done that by stoking his paranoia about Orlais, or by planting Arl Howe to influence him after the battle. He did a lot of OOC stuff while he was King Regent, and this could be a chance to explain what didn’t make sense for his previously established character and was just put in there to make him seem Very Evil.

- They also were around some people doing a blood magic ritual… there weren’t enough of them to be the Magisters, technically, but that is usually what it looks like when we see them in DA art so I’m going to assume that’s them for now. I mean that’s wild if that’s what it is bc that was such a long time ago? Thee guys have really been playing the long game I guess

- The other person they directly influenced seems to be Bartrand, which is really easy because who the fuck gave him that damn map? We NEVER found out who pointed Bartrand to the Thaig! Someone did it, and they probably did it on purpose! It may as well be these guys

- the rest of the villains don’t get guys whispering to them, so I have to assume they mean to imply that they just set up the circumstances that would lead to these people gaining power. I mean someone sent the Carta to the Vimmark mountains, right? And there was like some weird demon there, too.

-So basically they’re just implying that these people have been manipulating events to make sure that shit in Thedas is hitting the fan all at once, which does kind of explain the frankly improbable number of world-ending events that have happened during the Dragon Age. I mean, three Blights, two Magisters, two Evanuris, Antaam invasion, major mage rebellion, Templar schism, and the death of the Southern Divine? It’s only been like 50 years!!! Before the Dragon Age there had only been four Blights since the Ancient Age! Shit does not normally happen this fast in Thedas

I think the phrase itself is pretty direct (also giving Southern Reach vibes). All this chaos they helped sew is reaching its culmination, and now they’re getting ready to cash in the chips. They’re coming to Thedas at the moment that all the great powers are at their weakest, when there’s basically no one to oppose them. Tevinter? Fucked. Qunari? No military anymore. Antiva? Haha! lol, even. Fereldan? Basically gone. Orlais? In shambles. Free Marches? Decimated. Anderfels? There’s like 100 Wardens left in a swamp. Nevarra? I actually don’t know, maybe the lichlords can do something. Maybe Rivain could field some token resistance if they didn’t get hit by the Antaam too badly, but that’s kind of it IMO. This is THE time to come in and conquer(?) the land, or whatever they’re trying to do. Kill everybody?? Turn them into Darkspawn? Who knows!

Some speculation about what could be done to repel invasion:

- shit ton of blood magic

- fix titans, wake them up??? But idk if they’d be into it

- adaari, but idk if there are that many

- people with dragon blood, like the Theirins, are maybe super special and can do things?

- pirates, baby!!! Woooooo!

- I guess Mythal could know something? She can see the future a bit

- dragon army! Dragon army!!

[adimouze]

post-las vegas WDC max/daniel, rated M. ~1300 words. @girlsdads mentioned something about a lil bit of LL hating in a fic so. I did a lil bit of LL hating too.

-

A face floats into Max’s field of vision probably three hours into the fifth different party Max had been shepherded to since the race ended. He’s about ninety-percent sure he’s still in Las Vegas. He blinks blearily at it, hoping at least it’s pretty enough to look at. It has been a while since. Since.

Liam Lawson blinks back. Not who he was expecting. Gross. 

“Max,” he says, sounding too sober for whatever time it is. The club is loud but Max can still unfortunately hear him. “Are you okay?”

Max attempts a sweeping gesture, he’s carrying a glass of something and it hits someone’s back, making Max drop it with a smash. Liam cringes, looking like he’s about to complain. “This is my party, mate,” Max says, cutting off whatever Liam was going to say. “I’m fucking great.”

“Christian just left,” Liam says, and Max kind of hates how he talks but what can you do. Maybe he just doesn’t like Liam. “I think there’s another party happening a few blocks from now, do you want to join me?”

If Christian left that means Max can leave without theoretically offending anybody, even though it is his party. Half of the people around him don’t seem like people he knows anyway. “Nah man, you go on ahead, I’ll head back to the hotel –”

“Oh then I’ll head back with you,” Liam’s probably the most cheerful he’s been since Max met him. “Yuki scored and left me here.” 

Pity isn’t something Max feels often, but he does feel a bit of pity now. In his first year he was never left alone in clubs, either Carlos or Daniel were always there making sure they were around to get him back to wherever before they took someone home or to their hotel rooms. More often it was Daniel, and more often Daniel didn’t take anyone home, because they were sharing a room and more often it was just fun to watch onboards together, side by side. 

No one else but them. 

Then again, Max was a teenager in his first year and Liam’s twenty-two. He wouldn’t need babysitting. 

“Alright,” Max isn’t sure where he is. He doesn’t know how to ask Liam without sounding like an absolute idiot. 

“I have a car waiting,” Liam adds, after Max stared off into the distance for a few seconds, willing someone to appear with a car. Maybe Max isn’t being as subtle as he thought he was. 

_____

Red Bull and VCARB drivers are often put up in the same hotel, usually the standard room but Helmut had finangled him a penthouse upgrade on Thursday, telling Max that he deserved a proper room to party in, like Max was going to bring home an orgy. 

He’s pretty sure Liam couldn’t possibly have gotten a penthouse upgrade too. He’s sure hotels only have one penthouse? He’s sure. If he was less drunk he would be surer. But Liam makes no move to push any buttons. 

“Mind if I come up for a nightcap?” Liam asks, smiling. This is the most Max has seen him smile ever since he got Daniel…ever since Daniel left and he jumped in the car. Max does not want him to come up for a nightcap but Max is feeling generous tonight. 

“Sure, why not.” Someone had spilled what seems like a bottle of champagne on him at some point in the night and his shirt is sticking to him. He’s too tired to shower. Meh. It’ll be a problem for hungover Max tomorrow. 

The lift goes up insanely fast but still feels too slow for Max tonight. He’s WDC, four times WDC, he’s used to faster things, sue him. Liam is still staring at him. 

“Good driving tonight,” Max says, for want of anything better to do or say. He has no idea where Liam finished to be honest. 

“I finished 16,” Liam says flatly. Yikes. Well. 

The door dings open onto Max’s floor. And. 

Daniel’s sitting on the giant sectional of the penthouse living room. 

He looks gorgeous. Max wants to stare forever. He looks broad and good and tanned, his beard has filled in a lot more than when Max last saw him in Monaco, his hair thicker. The sweatshirt he’s wearing looks less oversized than usual, fitting his shoulders instead of drooping over them, and his trousers make his thighs look great. 

He’s smirking. He looks like a frat guy. He looks like one of those men from Victoria’s magazines that Max definitely didn’t jerk off over. 

Max is probably drooling, and Liam runs into him as he’s stepping out of the lift. 

“Oh sorry mate I – Daniel, hello.” Liam’s voice is a bit high. Confused. Probably scared. “Didn’t realize you were in Vegas. Red Bull didn’t…”

Daniel stands up and comes over. Max is still staring. Daniel moves like an apex predator and Liam’s just the runt of litter in this.  “Hey Liam. Well. Red Bull doesn’t own me anymore mate, do they? I can be wherever I want.”

He claps Liam on the shoulder in greeting then grabs Max’s limp hand. “Came to see my boy be the World Champion again.”

Liam’s probably saying something but Max doesn’t care, because Daniel’s pulling him in, arms going around Max, sticky shirt and all, and Max is going to swoon because Daniel smells good, good, good, their lips meeting after ages, Daniel’s lips and tongue the best, most refreshing thing Max has tasted all night. Someone’s moaning. 

It’s him. 

“Um…”

Liam’s still there. 

Max tries to pull back but Daniel’s got his hands on his ass, lifting, lifting, and Max’s legs going around him in response, and Daniel’s got them on the sofa in a second, Max perched on Daniel’s wide wide thighs without even separating their lips once. It’s the hottest thing Max has ever felt. He’s going to come just from the thought alone. 

“Liam,” Daniel’s saying, pulling back a few centimeters to give Max some breathing space. “I’m going to fuck my husband on this sofa right now, and he’s going to be screaming loud enough to be heard from the moon. So like,” he pops the k, and Max’s dick twitches, precome dripping into his underwear, “unless you want a front row seat to that for some reason, shouldn’t you be heading to bed?” 

“Husband?” Liam’s stuttering. “Excuse me? You can’t – Does Christian know? He’s going to be so mad at you, Max what the fuck –?”

“Get out,” Daniel says. Max has never heard him sound like that. “Now.” 

“I’m calling Christian,” Liam says as a parting shot. “He won’t – he’s not going to allow this.”

“Yeah you do that, mate,” Daniel rolls his eyes then squeezes Max’s ass harder. God, he’s so hot. Max feels insane. Husband husband husband. “What’s he going to do, fire me again?” 

The lift dings shut again. They’re blessedly alone. 

“Husband?” Max snorts, shivering as Daniel’s fingers undo his pant buttons. “Bit presumptuous of you, don’t you think?”

“The ring’s in the suitcase, baby,” Daniel says, smiling like a wolf, fingers curling around Max’s dick. Max grinds into the feeling, needing Daniel inside him right now. This is the best day of his life. “Was hoping you’d say yes.”

“Let me think about it,” Max laughs, and Daniel bites his nipple through his shirt. “Liam’s probably told the Herald by now.”

“I’ll personally send him the wedding photos,” Daniel cackles, licking up Max’s neck, leaving wet trails in the cold air con of the room, “if he promises to send me photos of Christian when he tells him I was about to fuck him in front of you.”

“Stop talking about Christian and fuck the World Champion already, husband,” Max says, his laughter turning into moans when Daniel all too willingly complies.

[trender-official]

do you have any general ideas for what a yandere jayce talis x reader would be like

i have MANY thoughts about this. first of all i don’t think jayce would ever know he’s yandere. and i don’t think you’d recognize it at first either!! i think he’d be very protective after the attack on the council but not so much before hand. i think he’d be very trusting of you, honestly. i don’t think he’d ever be scared of you leaving more so of you being TAKEN. i’ll give some specifics bellow the cut

let’s start off with you and him in a viktor type scenario

you’re lab partners

i think this is where he would trust you the most

he knows you’re not scheming or anything like that

he genuinely believes you would never turn your back on him

(which means if you do it gets… bad. only time he’d get violent)

you’d likely be spending most of your time together early on(pre councilor jayce)

so he doesn’t feel the need to worry!

but after…

oh boy.

he would station guards outside your lab… just in case

one with you when you go to lunch too

ESPECIALLY if you’re publicly together

he would definitely not let you go anywhere by yourself

he would usually listen to you on matters, except when it came to hextech in weapons

he wouldn’t give a fuck lol

he’d have too much at stake

he’d definitely use his status on the council to manipulate you (not that he knows that’s what he’s doing)

he’d tell you “it would be so easy for people to target you without enforcers there! they’d do anything to get to me”

and you honestly can’t argue

which is what starts to sow anger in you

because your so used to being able to argue with him and that being your means of communication

but he’d just have so much power over you

you wouldn’t be equals anymore (not that he’d see that)

now if you were in mel’s position

i think he’d be a lot more protective and a lot less trusting

he’d definitely feel intimidated by your power and work to undermine that a lot

this is the only time i can imagine him using his physical strength to overpower you

it makes him feel better about himself

he’d probably try to force you to retire

especially after the attack

not because he thinks your incompetent!

but because he’s scared for you

he doesn’t even think HE should be a councilor after that LOL

he would probably try to bribe your guards for info on what you’re doing

just to keep tabs

he’d probably try to distract you from arguments with affection too

because he doesn’t like to argue with you anymore

he doesn’t want to be forced to see that you’re equals

even though he’d never admit if you weren’t

he’d probably want to take the relationship more public

so he could guilt you with it

because it would make you look bad if you broke up!!

very centered on looks in this scenario

he’d def dress you up a lot

very gilded cage core

would want to be married super quick

and have kids(if ur able ofc)

you have to continue great minds!!

anyway i think this one is worse

to say the least

either way, jayce is honestly not the worst yandere to end up with!! he’s probably the best in arcane at least.

[goingmerryfics]

Hello, could you please do mihawk, benn, Rayleigh and shanks x f reader who is a lot younger? (like early 20s)

Younger S/O - Shanks & Mihawk

Content: female reader, age gap, younger (but not minor ofc) s/o

Notes* Hey! So I tried a few times to write for Rayleigh and Benn, but I just don’t know their characters like that- so here's the two I know I can do! I apologize for it being a little shorter than normal, I opened up requests and then immediately got cursed with writer's block again

Shanks

Shanks definitely does not look his age, so when you’d spotted him at the bar all those years ago, you had no reservations about flirting with him

He was totally into it, too. A young, pretty girl showing interest in him? Hell yes

At first, it was a simple fling. But then Shanks continued to return to your island again and again, seeking you out over and over until it wasn’t just coincidence anymore

You two became a couple, but on the low. Shanks didn’t need any idiot bandits, pirate or marines targeting you to get back at him

In the beginning of your relationship with him, he was very careful about the power dynamic between you two

He was a powerful man and an older one at that, so he makes extra sure that during the time you two spend together, he takes care of you very well

Of course, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t tease you!

Around the crew or people he feels can take a joke, he calls you his sugar baby

You hate his dumb jokes, but you love him, and he loves you

Mihawk

Mihawk is the type of man that he doesn’t care who you are or where you come from

Age would not factor into his views of his wife. If he loves you, he loves you

While he’s not always the type to show that outright with words or constant physical affection, he prefers to show it with acts of service

Respect is his top priority as well- doesn’t matter the age. You will be respected and regarded highly as his wife

He’s a protector, but sometimes overly so. That’s where the age gap gets him- he often assumes that you need help or company with anything from household chores to a walk on the island (but to be fair, the island can be dangerous

He also likes to use old slang, which sometimes leaves you baffled as to its meaning

It’s actually pretty funny having to ask him what the hell he’s talking about when he says things like, “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush”

It’s one of the rare moments when you can watch him laugh, because the sheer confusion on your face amuses him

He gives you your own space in the castle as well. He values his own solitude at times, so he’s sure you want yours at times, too

[revelboo]

Even If It Kills Me Pt 2

TF Armada Starscream x Reader

• Primus, help him, because the sound you make when he does finally manage to catch you almost makes him immediately drop you. Screaming your little head off as the Mini-Cons flinch away, chirping and upset by the noise. But as he lifts you to optic level, you give up and fall silent. Those eyes are defiant when they meet his glare head on. “So is this where you crush me like a bug?” You ask, and venting raggedly, he doesn’t know what to make of you. Afraid of him, but so blunt. Almost like you fully expect him to hurt you. Like you’re used to it and resigned that it’s your lot. And staring at that discoloration around your eye, it clicks. He’s seen that on the human kids before. A bruise.

• That uncannily human face is frowning at you, huge servos warm where they’re wrapped around you. But not gripping you so tight you can’t breathe. Not breaking ribs even though he easily could. Which means you might get out of this unscathed, though given your track record, you doubt it. Hope is something for other people. “Humans aren’t supposed to know we’re here,” he says before looking down at the little robot that had wandered up to you first and his servos flex against you. You’re not sure if he can understand the little guy’s beeping, but he suddenly vents hard enough warm air stirs your hair. Laying your palms on his hand, you wonder what he’ll do to keep his existence secret.

• “Will it be quick?” You ask and he freezes, because you’re staring at him, expression oddly blank. And he understands that emptiness, of knowing that pain is coming for you no matter what you do. You took his words and assumed he’d end you to protect himself. No arguing or pleading, just tired acceptance, too broken to resist. Too beaten to even think about fighting.

• Optics narrowing at you, you wait for it to come. Honestly it’s kind of funny, you’d just assumed he would be the one to put in the ground eventually. Never expected this, though. If there’s any justice in the world, your death will still get pinned on him. He can spend the rest of his life sober and caged like an animal. One last act of spiteful rebellion against him. And you are laughing now, crying and coming apart all at once. “Primus,” the monster growls.

• Completely at a loss, he looks down at the Mini-Cons then at the human wheezing and sobbing and laughing like a mad thing in his grip. Much more broken than he’d thought. How much further could Megatron have pushed him until this was him? Cautiously, he runs a servo against your hair. Reaching out to you like the kids had reached out to him. And when you touch his servo with a trembling hand, you’re still crying as you look up at him and he knows he can’t just leave you here even if he wasn’t under orders to not be seen.

Previous

I caved and finally replaced my old Wacom tablet so I can remind myself that no, I cannot in fact draw

[hoonieyun]

now playing...

after midnight - chappell roan

pairing: singer/producer lee heeseung x singer reader "y/n" x singer sim jaeyun

warnings: profanity, suggestive, kissing, heeseung is thirsty, overall 18+ - also this is partially written so please make sure to read the written part so it all makes sense

wc: 954

ignore the time stamps and any possible typos lol

heeseung approaches y/n as she’s mingling with jake and his friends. her smile fading after he taps her shoulder and he comes into view. “can i steal her for a bit?” heeseung asks jake as if jake was the person in charge of you. a recurring behavior heeseung where he felt the need to always show ownership and possession of you when you were dating, rarely ever considering how you felt or how it would affect you. 

jake shakes his head and lets you go with heeseung even if you don't want to. heeseung grabs your wrist after failing to hold your hand, dragging you to a part of the venue where you weren’t necessarily seen by a lot of people. “what do you want heeseung? i’m trying to enjoy the party…” you say with a sigh and he tries to reel you in by showing you his big doe eyes and even though it slightly made your heart flutter, you chose to stand on business. 

“look, i know i fucked up but just give me one more chance to treat you right.” heeseung says but slows down as the sentence progresses when you just so happen to say the same exact things as him. this was the sentence he had pulled on you in the past and quite frankly, it worked a few times but not this time. 

“you didn’t even wanna try a new script to get me back?” you ask coldly and heeseung drops his face like he has been caught. “okay, i just don’t know what to say. i miss you and i know i was a fucking ass but i just can’t stand being without you.” heeseung says and you just watch him, waiting because you know he was eventually going to tell on himself. he had that habit, when heeseung was drunk and he began to ramble at you, if you just stared at him his silent pauses would be filled with more rambling because he wanted to avoid the awkward silence. so he’d fill it with more talking and eventually confess something he didn’t mean to.

“and i don’t know. that sond i made was mean i admit that but did you have to do a collab with jake of all people? you know how much i liked his music and it felt like a low blow.” there it is…

“ha! i knew it! you’re jealous, i can’t believe this is what this is actually about. do you even want me back or are you just threatened with the idea that someone else wants me and that i’m no longer yours?” you ask, anger in your voice and heeseung doesn’t know what to say. 

“heeseung, i mean this in the nicest way possible, leave me alone.” you say and although heeseung was expecting something a bit harsher, your tired demeanor and offset to his advances hurt more than your words. 

you walk away before heeseung could say another but you don’t rejoin jake and his friends, choosing to find a spot you could be alone for a few minutes. 

you turn around to hide yourself from jake as he approaches, half embarrassed that he has to see you like this and the other feeling guilty as you’re bringing down the vibe of his own party. 

“you okay, pretty?” jake asks as he pushes open the door to the balcony. the cold air whipping past him as he takes the spot next to you. clearing your throat, “yeah, i’m okay. sorry i don’t wanna be a downer on your birthday.” you say, trying to avoid eye contact but jake softly grabs your chin to make eye contact with you. 

“can i be honest..? i wasn’t really feeling the party either.” jake says with a chuckle and he gets a laugh out of you at the same time, smiling even bigger when he hears your laugh that he finds so pretty. 

“wanna get out of here?” he asks and as much as you wanted to, you felt bad. “jake, this is your party, you should be here.” you say to him and jake just rolls his eyes with a pout. “nah, everyone in there is probably too drunk to even notice.” he reassures you and for a moment you’re just looking at each other. jake’s eyes are fishing for the small glint in your eyes that tells him you want this as much as he does, and indeed you do. 

you take his hand in yours and drag him back inside, past the party, and into the elevator. “where you taking me, huh?” jake says, teasingly and you roll your eyes at him playfully as you drag jake to your car. 

the drive back to your place is filled with laughter and singing random songs with jake. he couldn’t believe this was finally, his crush on you was finally progressing to something more. his eyes widened at the sight of your apartment, a high rise but humble home that screamed your style. cute figures and stuffed animals scattered throughout the home and empty cans of energy drinks on your kitchen counter. 

jake is taken out of his thoughts when you slam the door behind him and you grab him by the collar. “do you think i’m pretty?” you ask even though you already know that answer to it. jake nods, desperation in his eyes as he looks down at your lips. 

“do you wanna kiss me, jakey?” you ask and he nods eagerly, answering faster than the first time. you don’t even get a chance to lean closer to jake before he crashes his lips onto yours. a moment he had been waiting for. 

masterlist - back - next

hoonieyun notes: trouble in paradise for heeseung means smooth sailing for jake! what do we think jake and yn are going to do once they get to yn's place? do a puzzle? coloring book? bake cookies?

also please answer the little poll, the result doesn't affect the story but i'd love to see yalls input

copyright 2024 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved

all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.

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[suchine-toki]

About Takasugi's abuse

The other day (totally not months ago) we were talking with @sakukaguxxi about how Takasugi’s relationship with his bio family is overlooked in character analyses. While Sorachi didn’t delve deeply into this aspect, which isn’t inherently bad, I think it’s important for understanding why he turned out the way he did.

We know two canon facts: (1) he comes from a low-class samurai family, and (2) he’s the firstborn. This suggests his family held noble status but struggled to maintain it. As a result, they relied on him to preserve their standing, enrolling him in a military academy and being strict about how he interacted with higher-status classmates.

To enforce this, they employed harsh punishments, such as starving him, tying him to a tree and leaving him in the cold for hours, or physically hitting him with enough force to draw blood when he was just a child (~10 yo?). On top of this, the threat of disownment loomed over him constantly.

These actions indicate they didn’t see him as a person or a child worth protecting but rather as a means to an end (maintaining their status). Consequently, he grew up devaluing himself and lacking the tools to express love in a healthy way. This likely explains why he became so attached to Shouyo and Gintoki.

For Shouyo, he was probably the first and only parental figure to treat Takasugi with genuine respect. While he disciplined him, it was always treated lightly and without causing him any real harm, unlike his bio father. Shouyo provided basic necessities like food, warmth, care, but also a sense of belonging.

Regarding Gintoki, a lot can and has been said. On this topic, he may’ve downplayed or misunderstood the extent of Takasugi’s abuse. This can be inferred from his comments before meeting Sakamoto, where he jokingly implies that Takasugi is still a “daddy’s kid,” even though he knows Takasugi was disowned.

This is interesting because Takasugi mentions being disowned long ago, yet for Gintoki, it doesn’t seem so distant. The timeline is unclear, perhaps Takasugi’s father disowned him during childhood, or maybe he tried to bring him back for years until eventually giving up when Takasugi was a teenager and considered irredeemable.

Moving into non-canon territory, if we consider Takasugi Shinsaku (the historical figure) for inspiration, some gaps can be filled. He was the firstborn, had three sisters, and bore the responsibilities of being the sole male heir. His father reportedly tried to steer him away from radicalism, even arranging a marriage for him to settle down.

This aligns with a seemingly banal joke, that Takasugi owned The Portopia Serial Murder Case and a console to play it (a Famicom?). At first glance, it’s odd that an abusive family would buy him such things. However, abusive individuals aren’t cruel all the time. They can oscillate between being harsh and showing kindness, creating a cycle of manipulation and gaslighting. This could explain why it took Takasugi some time to leave, perhaps he realized they needed him more than he needed them or that they would never truly love him.

The lasting effects on him are evident. Takasugi struggles to express himself in ways that don’t involve violence, and saw himself as disposable, with no strong sense of self. He fought for Shouyo’s freedom, for Gintoki’s tears, and later, for Gintoki’s happiness. While these were his choices, they were never about himself, they were for the people he held close to his heart.

[brekkie-e]

Okay, so the more I sit with it- the more I can see the appeal of the Solavellan "happy ending." The mythological implications. The opportunity for both of them to be free of the pain that their title has caused them. Solas gets to return to the Fade in the only scenario that means he can find meaning and happiness there like he once had.

There is more going for it than I think a lot of people saw at first glance. Myself included.

The thing that still holds me back on it, though, is it feels like it works best for a Lavellan who's clan is dead and presumably removed her Vallaslin. That character is the candidate for this to be her perfect ending. She gains something from this. Where going into this scene- she has no family left and no home to speak of- she leaves with a metaphorical husband and the promise that the Fade will be their domain forever. There's some work that has to go into it first, but the two of them will make a home there.

Lavellan's who have a clan, though? Who chose to keep their Vallaslin out of love for their family/culture? They abandon their family for him. They could have been the First, and they abandon that role as well. He doesn’t even read like he wants her to reach out to him in that moment, and she throws all of it away without receiving a scrap from him.

The whole thing feels like yet another blow to me. It feels like your character is constantly being asked to sacrifice the part of herself that loves her people for Solas. Which is even more frustrating because he gives none of himself to her in return for her sacrifices. There are reasons for that, yes. I have read Weekes' explanations for why Lavellan needs to reach out to him, and I get it. I get the bigger mythological symbolism, and I appreciate it. However, just looking at it in the context of these two characters. In the context of this series as a whole- it gets under my skin a little.

Clan Lavellan is the third clan you can see whiped out in the series. It's not even acknowledged in the game. The fact that the narrative wants so badly for you to reject your characters Dalish heritage, and rewards you the most if you do so is just really disappointing. This game in some ways tries to do better than its previous counterparts with its baked in save the Dalish quest. But the whole thing is messy. There's so much to unpack with how they are still handling the elves in this game.

The thing is "ideal" routes are not new to Dragon Age, or Bioware at large for that matter. So I'm not exactly surprised that this is coming up. I am just a little disappointed that there isn't more in the story to engage with that minimizes some of the "delulu girl throws her life away for the quintessential 'if he wanted to he would (derogatory)' guy while her friends and family look on in horror" energy that it has. Because I think that comes in mostly from execution more than anything. And there are certain play throughs where it looks worse than others. "Certain" being mine and I don't like it 🤣.

[maxdibert]

Look who's back, I hope this isn't bothering you, but my friend really thinks that suffering violence doesn't justify being a violent person and I really need to talk to someone about Severus.

Not long ago I asked my mother with exactly these words “if a person grew up amid violence and only suffered violence, is it abnormal for them to be violent?”.

And she said: Not always, it depends from person to person. Some will be different from the experiences and environment they lived in, while others will not. But the chances of a child who has suffered violence also being violent is 98%.

And it made me think about how people see Severus as an exception and not a statistic. And, for some reason, they make it a competition of traumas and belittle his suffering because he is not a perfect victim who swallows his spite, forgives those who hurt him and pretends that everything is fine when it is not.

Experiencing violence doesn’t justify being violent, but it can explain it. There’s a substantial difference between justification and understanding. The reason why someone is the way they are doesn’t mean that behavior is acceptable, but it helps to understand their character. This is essential if you’re working with that person professionally, for example.

That said, this has many nuances because experiencing violence is just one of many factors that can lead to antisocial behavior. If violence occurs in isolation and the victim has resources and support, the likelihood of them developing violent behaviors is significantly lower. For example, take an average bullying victim. They may have suffered a lot at school, but that’s just one part of their life. What if they had a group of friends outside school? What if they had a stable relationship with their parents? And if none of that happened, what if they found a safe space with people who respected and valued them when they went to university? The environment is crucial both for healing trauma and for the development (or prevention) of problematic behaviors. The problem for victims of violence, in terms of their cognitive development, isn’t so much the violence itself but the resources and tools they have to heal afterward. And healing requires many factors.

Severus represents the case of a victim of violence who suffered it not just in one environment but in all of them. As a child, he experienced abuse at home, and as a teenager, he was bullied at school. He comes from an environment where he has no tools to cope with that violence because he grew up extremely poor, and his parents were participants in the abuse. The abuse continues at school, where bullies make his life hell, and once again, the adults around him not only fail to intervene but either force him to keep quiet or even reward his abusers (James being made Head Boy, for instance). He grows up in an environment where violence is normalized, and the adults in his life constantly justify or validate it. The only people who accept him are the Death Eaters, who are themselves a highly violent group. Everything around him during the most crucial stages of his cognitive development fosters not just a normalization of violence but a justification of it.

When he leaves the Death Eaters, instead of finding an understanding environment where he can start fresh, discover himself, build friendships, and maybe construct a new life, he is trapped in the same school that was a nightmare for him, with no tools or ecosystem that might allow him to heal or attempt to overcome his trauma. Dumbledore doesn’t help; he treats Severus like a soldier, trapping him in that violent cycle with his role as a double agent and feeding his guilt precisely to make him more effective for his plans. Severus isn’t a colleague; he’s a tool.

In my opinion, if he had been able to escape all of that, focus on his own life, and build something for himself, yet still remained violent, then his behavior would be absolutely inexcusable. He would have had opportunities. He would have had the chance to choose to change but refused to do so. However, a person with Severus’s past, environment, and position had no opportunity to change because he lacked the space or means to do so. No one offered him a hand. He was alone, he had nothing, and when someone finally gave him something, it was only to imprison him in the cage of his demons and use him for their own ends. He couldn’t escape from that.

It doesn’t make sense to blame someone for being resentful when their entire life has revolved around an endless cycle of suffering. People like that never end well.

[pinksugarscrub]

Hi, pinkie!! This may be weird but happy birthday :D wishing you all the best things and wishes 🫶🏻

(Silly Hobie wishes you happy birthday as well)

(Look at him being silly)

Like The Movies

Hobie Brown x fem! reader (college au)

Hi my love! 🤍 Thank you so much for the well wishes. It isn't weird!! 😠 Who told you that?? As promised, "loser" Hobie to celebrate. (I love my silly little guy. I'm putting him in my pocket).

I just want to say, to everyone who asked what would happen if I didn't win ( @hyperfix-wip )- I guess we'll never know 🤷‍♀️

word count: 1,7k+

cw: dorks, the lot of them

~

The smell of butter soaked popcorn has been stuck to Hobie’s clothes for hours now. Along with a straining headache. Rubbing his temples he tries to focus on the ugly red carpet instead of the screen at the cash register.

Ten more minutes then he was home free. Excluding the quick stop he was going to make to the video game store across the mall. The missing piece for his game cube was finally in stock.

He was debating grabbing pizza from the food court too but with his roommate gone for the weekend what was the point? Hobie really wishes Ned well but he’s disappointed that he’ll be spending his time off without his best friend.

It’s times like these that he wishes he was closer to his family. Deciding and then being accepted to attend university here in New York is a mixed blessing.

He’s learning incredible things, meeting new people, and living on his own. On the other hand, he’s still new to the US and its customs.

It’s exhausting after a while and he can’t even be comforted by anything other than the things he brought with him from Camden.

A beep from his watch alerts him that his shift is over and Hobie doesn’t waste a second in clocking out and discarding the thing he calls a uniform. He’s still polite of course. Says his goodbyes and wishes everyone a happy holiday despite not celebrating Thanksgiving himself.

He must look tired because most shoppers steer clear of him. At the most he’ll receive two or three compliments on his outfit. Or maybe they’re just preoccupied with the sales and discounts going on in various stores.

He mutters an apology as he brushes past a group to step inside the brightly colored store with posters and ads for the newest game. Hobie has learned Christmas lights in November is normal. He cringes as he hears a popular pop song play through the speakers. It’s maybe the twentieth time today he’s listened to it.

“Hobie, hey! Give me a sec.” Ganke pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Gesturing to the box Hobie presumes holds his order. “I’ll ring you up as soon as I can.”

“Course, no rush.”

And Hobie means that sincerely. There’s more than four customers in line with a dozen more circling figures and t-shirts. He may be tired but he knows well enough how demanding customer service can be.

To add a little more reassurance to Ganke’s mind, Hobie points to a random section of games. “I wanted to take a look around anyway.”

Ganke nods with a grin that never seems to fall from his face.

Hobie would consider this store his second home. He is on a first name basis with Ganke and he was even invited out by the younger boy to a flea market. They both shared a love for retro and vintage. Hobie met a friend of his too, Miles. It was the most fun he’s had since his arrival in August.

A sigh leaves his lips as the section he had planned to browse is blocked by a group of teenagers and yes, he himself is a teenager but something about American air made people lose their common courtesy.

He spins, planning to give up and just wait by the counter when something smacks into his chest. Not hard but definitely strong enough that the person who walked into him is sent stumbling back.

An apology spills from his lips and he’s met with one himself. The air from his lungs leaves his chest as he comes face to face with a girl. He knows you.

He knows because he shares a music composition class with you. He remembers because he embarrassed himself in front of the class. Hobie’s only ever written baselines so orchestral music has been a struggle for him.

“Why are you sorry?” You laugh softly. Fixing the bag on your shoulder full of pins and charms. “I bumped into you.”

“Are you ok?” You ask and Hobie isn’t sure what to do next.

He’s mortified that the only interactions he’s had with you (which are far and few) are so embarrassing.

Hobie may or may not think you’re cute. It would be stupid of him not to notice you.

It’s not like he has a chance with such a pretty girl but he can at least not look like a fool in front of you every chance he gets.

“Uh yeah,” he falters, “I’m fine. Are you…ok?”

“Me?” You point to yourself in confusion.

“Yeah,” he repeats. “Did I nick you or something?”

“Oh.” You laugh again as you take in the patches and safety pins on his vest. “I think we’re good.”

When you stand on the tips of your toes Hobie understands what you mean and his ears grow hot with embarrassment.

Hobie is aware he’s tall enough to be a basketball player but compared to you he’s never realized quite how tall he is.

You smile and think about how cute his reaction is. Hobie isn’t shy, not by any means. You’ve seen him with his friends around campus. But you can understand how being out of your element can leave you walking on eggshells.

Classical music is the soul of your being. Movie scores to be more specific, not to mention game sources. You haven’t quite decided what route to take but for now you’re content with going back to the basics and writing Bach inspired pieces.

“Hey, I really liked your presentation. Did you get a good score?”

“I did, yeah.”

Hobie thinks you must be lying to avoid making him feel bad. The professor too because he earned almost full marks.

He doesn’t understand why when his piece was so…awful. Nothing like yours or Flash Thompson’s.

“That’s great! I liked the third movement. It reminded me of um…” You snapped your fingers. “Bowser’s theme. You know, from the first Mario game?”

Hobie doesn’t mean to, he really doesn’t, but he laughs.

“What? I’m serious!” You grin as you reach for your phone. Insistent to make your point and be proven right.

“You can’t be.” Hobie almost guffaws. “It was a dumpster fire!”

“Was not!” You argue. Bringing your phone up to his ear after furiously typing.

Hobie looks at you in surprise. Stuck between your outstretched hand and your determined face. After a supportive nod from you and a smile he slowly leans down to listen.

You pause on certain points of the video. Rambling on about concepts the two of you have learned but obviously you know better.

The video takes exactly three minutes and fifty three seconds but you managed to lengthen the amount of time it would normally take to finish and soon enough he realizes you’re not just cute. You’re cute and you like games.

You weren’t trying to make him feel better you were making honest and valid points.

Now he feels like an ass for laughing so he’s quick to wave his white flag in surrender.

“Alright, alright. You win love. Has anyone ever told you you’re a bold little thing?”

“I have been called that on occasion, yes.”

Hobie hums. His lips tugging into a smile. “Don’t ever change.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach as you return his smile. “I won’t, promise.”

“What are you in here for if you don’t mind me asking? Aside from analyzing my music.”

“I don’t mind at all,” you answer. Feeling giddy. “There’s a poster I’ve been looking for and- tada.”

Hobie chuckles at the glee on your face as you hold up your prize.

“Is that right? Congratulations.”

“Thank you kind sir,” you giggle. “I was just heading over to pay when I bumped into you.”

“Guess it was a good thing I kept you occupied,” Hobie replies. “Line is gone now.”

You turn your head. Peeking over his shoulder to see the register is indeed free now.

“It appears so.” You tap his shoulder with the end of the rolled up poster. “Thank you again. You’ve done me a great honor sir.”

You relish in how much you’ve made Hobie laugh in the last few minutes you’ve talked. You’re disappointed this all has to end now.

Hobie snickers before bowing mockingly. “After you.”

You curtsey in return before walking over to Ganke. You’ve seen him a few times. Normally you come to the mall on weekends not weekdays but with the holidays coming up you had a few days off. Best to take advantage right?

Declining a bag you wait patiently for Ganke to finish the transaction but then he interrupts you from paying.

“Wait hold on, you have a birthday reward today.”

“Do I? Huh, I didn’t know the store had one.”

“Well, now your total comes down to less than ten dollars.”

“Sweet! Thank you.”

You step aside, thankful for Ganke’s chatty behavior because it give you an excuse to stay though Hobie’s own purchase. Both boys including you in their conversation about Hobie’s soon to be fully functioning game cube. Then you’re both walking out the door.

“So…” Hobie clicks his tongue. Anxious as the plastic bag he carries weighs down his hand. “Where are you off to now? Friends waiting at that nice restaurant?”

You shake your head, pointing to the direction of the movie theater. “Nope, there’s a screening for one of my favorite movies. It starts in about…ten minutes.”

Hobie’s eyebrows raise. “By yourself?”

“Mhm, was just killing some time.”

Hobie is at a loss for words. Spending your birthday alone sounds cruel. You deserve to have cake and gifts—the whole package. However it’s then that Hobie realizes he isn’t the only one who could be away from home.

“Mind if I come with you?” He blurts out.

Your eyes widen and in your stunned silence you feel the excitement build.

“Yes- I would love that!”

Gingerly clasping your hands together you happily tug him along. Explaining what movie you had bought a ticket for. Outwardly wondering if there were still seats available.

Hobie doesn’t feel dread walking back to the theater. He isn’t even upset when he smells popcorn again. With a soft smile he keeps his eyes on you. Only getting annoyed when his co-workers whistle behind his back and make exaggerated faces.

[aek1ra]

Paris | Mark Lee

Pairing boyfriend!mark x fem!reader

Summary: Your boyfriend, Mark, gets the offer of a lifetime but it means moving to Paris. Is this the start of a new future in a new city or where a great romance goes to die in the city of love.

Genre: angst, no warnings I think. Giselle and the rest of the æspa members play a small role.

Word count: 2,458

All stories are the property of © aek1ra, please do not copy, repost or translate without my permission. Thank you for your cooperation.

Friday

“I can’t stay here and be single for you, you’re my best friend why can’t you just be happy for me” you whisper shout at her in the middle of the crowded streets of Manhattan. “I am happy for you, I just don’t want you to regret this decision in the future-” she takes a deep breath and continues “look all I’m saying is that you’ve given up a lot for this relationship and this is one more thing he’s asking you to give up. Moving to Paris isn’t your dream y/n you’re chasing after him.” 

You heard her loud and clear, in fact you knew exactly what she was talking about. As much as you hate to admit you had been thinking the same thing for weeks now but how could you let him go. He was the missing puzzle piece, no he was the image you’re left with after the puzzle is completed. You had everything a girl in her mid twenties could ask for, the apartment in your dream city, the expensive shoes, the dream job and the dream boy. or at least you thought. No, you did and besides you’re not giving up your dream you’re simply moving it across an ocean. Yes, they have nice apartments in Paris, expensive shoes and people read magazines everywhere. It would take some time to find a job and some friends but once you got settled things would be the same, right? 

“I heard you, now let's drop this conversation I already quit my job and besides we leave tomorrow” you retort, taking a sip of your coffee hoping the warm beverage will help the lies come out smoother. She doesn’t say anything for a moment in fact you forget she’s even there. 1 beat 2 beats. “You weren’t even going to say goodbye to us? You can quit your job, throw away your shoes, hell even your hopes and dreams for some boy, but are we, am I that disposable to you.” pause “Actually you know what never mind, forget I said anything. Have a nice life y/n” 

3 beats, 4 beats. And with that you were left in the silence again except this time she really was gone. 

You walk into your shared apartment anxiously toying with your keys, the previous conversation replaying in your mind. 

“Baby your home, can you help me with the-” he stops mid-sentence seeing the tears well up in your eyes. 

“Hey what’s wrong? Things didn’t go well with Aeri, I take it?” you nod finally letting the tears you’d been holding all night cascade down your face. Mark is quick to pull into his chest, one arm around your waist pulling you in close, rubbing circles on your back. “She hates me. I don’t know why she can’t see things from my point of view. Everyone but her is happy for us, she’s my best friend and her opinion means the world to me. I mean she was my best friend.” you say in between sobs. 

He continues to listen as you drone on about her not understanding your feelings under the soft glow of the fluorescent lights. 

You were going to tell them, you did plan on saying goodbye but everything happened so fast. Mark had gotten offered the deal of a lifetime last week and asked you to move with him. Although it was sudden you couldn’t imagine your life without him. And with the long list of things you had to get done before the move like; putting the apartment up for sale, handing in your notice at work, packing, passports, visas,  you simply forgot to deliver the good news to your family and friends. 

When you called your parents this morning they expressed their excitement seeing you going on this adventure, truthfully they were just happy you’re happy, they know just how much you and Mark love each other. The other girls, Jimin, Minjeong and Yizhuo were all happy for you even if you knew deep down they had the same reservations as Aeri. She was the only person who didn’t seem to understand, or the only one not cowardly enough to say it out loud. She’ll come around eventually, right? 

After 15 minutes of effectively soaking your boyfriend's t-shirt he breaks the silence “come on” he starts as he cups your face softly in his hands wiping the last of the tears away, “let's get you to bed, we still have a few things to do before our flight tomorrow”. And with that you let him lead you to the bedroom thoughts of your friendship pushed to the back of your mind as the excitement and slight anxiety takes over. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sunday morning, First day in Paris

Before you knew it you were in Paris, standing in the lobby of the infamous Ritz Carlton. The company had booked a 5 night stay for you both while the deal was being finalised. Mark went off to get your room key while you stood admiring the crystal chandelier hanging above you. It was mesmerising, dazzling, the main star, the sun, the other lights danced around. He was standing at the front desk a few steps away, the lights above him creating a spotlight on him. There he was, your crystal chandelier, your sun and you were his earth quietly, forever orbiting around him. 

“Hey” his voice snaps you out of your haze, “let’s head up stairs yeah” he takes your hand in his, the sound of hurried footsteps and soft giggles are all that's left as you both disappear into the elevator.

Ding!

You come to a stop on the top floor, the Imperial suite. The view up here was stunning. Breathtaking. You felt like the luckiest girl in the world, every morning you would be waking up to two of the most beautiful views, the Eiffel tower and your boyfriend. 

Thump. There it was, that feeling again, you had been feeling this pang in your heart, a sort of longing like something was missing. If you were being honest you had been feeling this since your talk with Aeri yesterday, more specifically after she left standing alone outside your apartment. 

The faint sound of a phone ringing pulls you out of your thoughts, you watch your boyfriend talk to someone on the phone, probably his manager. 

 “Right now?”

“No, that's fine I’ll be there. Can you give me 20 minutes? I'll shower and meet you at the studio.” he hangs up the phone making his way towards you. He stands in front of you staring in your eyes, “I’m so sorry I know we said we would spend the day together before I got too busy. But I promise you I’ll be back before 7, we’re still on for dinner right beautiful?” 

Mhm. You hum in response planting a quick peck on his lips “don’t worry about me I’ll go shopping for our date tonight.” 

To be quite honest you were upset it hadn’t even been 24 hours and he was already too busy for you. Who were you kidding, did you really think it would be different, Manhattan to Paris the only change was your address. Maybe he just had no more room in his life for you. No, it sounded urgent, probably something with the contract, a typo or something. You’re a big girl, you can spend the day alone in the hotel room, or better yet go out and buy yourself a new dress for dinner tonight. 

“Besides I think I’ll go out and check out the stores around the area” he gives you one last squeeze before letting go and making his way into the shower. 

Tshhh

The sound of the shower water interrupts the quiet of the room, wishing the water could just wash away all your worries.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Saturday night  

Standing in front of the mirror admiring yourself in the strapless Versace dress you purchased earlier on. The sneaking suspicion that Mark wasn’t going to make it home starts to creep up on you. He was always doing that, making plans with you and cancelling at the last minute, sometimes not even showing up and forgetting to call. You know how important his work is to him and how crazy his schedule can get sometimes. At the start of your relationship he made a point to always let you know if he was going to be late, sending flowers on the days he misses a date. But as time went on the flowers and calls started to slow down eventually coming to a stop. I mean you knew he didn’t mean to, you didn’t need gifts to know that he never meant to forget you, he never meant to keep you waiting. 

The clock finally strikes seven and you’re sitting on the small couch at the end of the hallway, opposite the front door. Dazedly staring at the front door willing it to open, like a puppy waiting for its owner to return. Seven o’clock becomes eight, eight becomes nine, eventually it's Ten and you tire of waiting around so you decide to head to bed. 

It’s a quarter to Midnight when Mark returns, you spent the past thirty minutes tossing and turning, head full of questions, where could he be, was he alone, was he even thinking about you. He walks into the room, no he stumbles in knocking over a few perfume bottles that were on the dresser. You feign sleep, you're suddenly hit with the smell of alcohol. The bed dips next to you and soon enough you feel this lips on your cheeks, a quick bittersweet lingering kiss. The smell of alcohol is so overpowering you start to get dizzy. You feel a new emotion, not hurt, not disappointment, not hurt, but for the first time ever you were angry at him. While you were worried sick that he could’ve been somewhere out there lost in this foreign country where neither of you speak the language, or worse out dead in a ditch somewhere he was out drinking. Mark could be careless, inattentive, forgetful whatever you want to call it but never was he stupid. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monday morning 

The sun rose at 7 this morning, you hadn’t slept at all last night, thoughts of what your future would look like if you decided to live here with him. Mark starts to stir in his sleep, finally waking up. He wraps his  arms around your waist, pulling you towards his chest murmuring a quick  “good morning beautiful”. When you don’t respond he shifts slightly, lifting his head off the bed to get a good look at your face. 

“Baby, hey I’m sorry time just got away from me-” he starts, but you think it's pointless listening to the same speech you’ve heard all these nights before. Mark was the best boyfriend a girl could ask for, that is when he’s not too consumed by his work. You see for him everything else would always come second to his love for music, and maybe one day you would be strong enough to handle that truth. 

“Don’t worry about it. I forgot myself” you interrupt him before he can finish, “You have to get going, you’re going to be late for your important meeting.” you say albeit a bit too venomously for your liking, quickly sliding out of the bed and opting to sit by the window. 

“y/n” he starts but decides against it, instead deciding to give you your space. 

At 8:30am you hear the door to your room close signalling Mark has left for the day. You guys barely spoke to each other at breakfast, a silent dance of tension. Every few minutes you’d shoot him a soft smile in an attempt to show him you’re not mad, or in an attempt to lie to yourself. 

You had planned on going to see the cute cafes today while Mark was at his meeting, but after the events of last night you decide to stay in and wallow in self pity. Plus you have to console yourself before the dinner tonight with some music company executive that Mark kept droning on and on about on the flight over. You know this dinner is super important for his deal and no argument between the two will get in the way of that. So you swallow your hurt and anger, and decide to waste your time watching some random French drama. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monday night 

At exactly 7pm Mark walks int through the front door. Of course he’s always 

The happy couple, you walk hand in hand into the restaurant. Mark’s manager greets you guys at the door, ushering you both to join the rest of the party inside.

 “Mark, I want you to meet Mr. Devon” his manager announces pushing Mark towards the older gentlemen. 

As he let go of your hand for what felt like the millionth time, your picture perfect dream was starting to crumble all around you. All the painful memories, all the nights he left you waiting around for him, all the times he put his work, friends, colleagues before you, all the broken promises and forgotten dates.. Yes, forgotten, like you had forgotten your friends like they were something to check off a to-do list. But at the end of the day, you couldn’t blame him, not really, no. Mark, he was only chasing after what was important to him, and that wasn’t you, not anymore.

With your head hung low, you quietly make your way to your seat. 

Once Mark is done making the rounds saying his hellos, he takes his seat next to you, intertwining his fingers with yours. And as you stare aimlessly down at your interlocked fingers, you catch a glimpse of the classouses on his hands from hours and hours of strumming his guitar mindlessly while writing lyrics. It then becomes painfully obvious to you, you don’t belong here, at least not with him, not now, it was time for you to let go, let him run as fast and far as he can, chasing after his dreams. Slowly removing your hand from his you plant a soft kiss on his cheek letting your lips linger for a second before you whisper your last words of the night to him  “I love you, I’m sorry for doing this to you tonight but I wish you the best Mark”. You walk out of the restaurant refusing to look back, too afraid that one look into his beautiful tear filled irises would make you crumble on the spot. 

Au revoir mon amour, if the universe wills it surely we’ll meet again. 

(Note: Hi 👋🏽 if you’ve made it this far thank you so much for reading for first ever fic. I started writing this based on Carrie & Miranda’s argument and then just let the story take me where ever. I’m thinking of maybe giving it a part 2, what do you think?)

[rylem33]

The Solaris Prism: Red

This is a follow on story to The Solaris Prism: Yellow. You should probably read that one first. Enjoy!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Detective Rose Parker knocked firmly on the door, pausing to glance back at Jake Collins, who hovered uncertainly behind her. “First lesson, Jake,” she said, her voice steady but warm. “A quiet apartment doesn’t mean an empty one. You always stay alert.”

Jake straightened, pulling his hands out of his pockets like a kid caught slouching in class. “Got it, Detective,” he said, flashing her an eager grin. “But, I mean, what are the odds? Some delivery girl turned amateur thief? Probably ditched town already.”

“Maybe,” Rose admitted, her tone measured. “But we don’t assume. Stacey Hart was seen on camera leaving the museum with the box, and this is her last known address. We start here and follow the trail.”

She reached for the handle and turned it. The door clicked open, the faint creak of the hinges breaking the quiet.

The apartment was clean but cluttered, the kind of mess that came from someone who didn’t have the time, or energy, to keep things perfect. A couple of half-empty coffee cups sat on the counter, and a folded pile of laundry teetered on the edge of a chair

“Delivery driver, huh?” Rose muttered as she stepped inside, her sharp gaze scanning the room. “Not exactly the setup I was expecting.”

Jake followed behind her, glancing around. “Yeah, it’s… pretty normal.” He tilted his head, eyeing the small stack of unpaid bills on the table. “You’d think someone pulling off a museum heist would be living it up, but this? This is, like… student-hustling-to-pay-rent vibes.”

Rose gave him a look, her voice calm. “You’re making a lot of assumptions, Jake. Stacey Hart’s doesn’t seem like a seasoned thief.  She’s just a delivery driver who took the wrong thing at the wrong time.”

“Yeah, but a delivery driver with an empty bank account doesn’t walk out with a priceless museum artifact just for fun,” Jake countered, gesturing toward the stack of mail. “She must’ve had a reason. Desperate people do desperate things.”

Rose nodded slightly, acknowledging the point. “Fair. But it’s not our job to figure out the ‘why.’ We’re here to find evidence and bring it back. Let’s stay focused.”

Jake wandered over to a shelf, his hands stuffed back in his pockets as he examined an ornate wooden box sitting on the edge. “This fancy thing look like a lead to you?” he called, pointing at it with his elbow.

Rose turned, crossing her arms as she surveyed the box. “Looks promising,” she admitted. “Go ahead and bag it.”

“Bag it?” Jake echoed, reaching for the box. “Detective, I don’t think this thing fits in a Ziploc—whoa, this is heavy!” He nearly dropped it, fumbling as he tried to get a better grip.

“Careful,” Rose chided, though there was a hint of humor in her voice. “That’s evidence, not a bowling ball.”

Jake set the box down gently on the coffee table, wiping his hands on his pants. “Yeah, yeah. Evidence. Got it.”

Rose’s attention, however, was no longer on the box. Something on the couch caught her eye. She tilted her head, stepping closer. “Hang on,” she murmured, crouching down. “What do we have here?”

Jake leaned over her shoulder, squinting. “What is that?”

Rose reached into the couch, her fingers brushing against something smooth and cool. She pulled out a small, glassy object. It was about the size of a hand-held mirror, its surface flawless and mesmerizing.

“Is that… a crystal?” Jake asked, his voice skeptical.

“Looks more like a prism,” Rose replied, holding it up to the light. As she tilted it, it refracted the sunlight into a sudden, searing flash of red.

“Ah!” Rose hissed, stumbling back. The prism slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the hardwood floor. She pressed her hand to her eyes, blinking rapidly as the afterimage burned into her vision.

“Whoa, Detective, you okay?” Jake asked, reaching out to steady her.

“I’m fine,” Rose said quickly. She straightened, rubbing her temple. “It just caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting it to… react like that.”

Jake crouched to pick up the prism, turning it over in his hands. It looked completely inert. “React? It’s a chunk of glass,” he said, frowning. “Weird.”

“Put it in an evidence bag,” Rose instructed, her tone calm but firmer than before. She reached out and took it from him, her fingers brushing against the surface again. A strange warmth spread through her chest. She blinked, brushing it off.

Jake hesitated, his brow furrowing. “You sure you’re okay? You look a little… flushed.”

Rose waved him off, already sealing the prism into a bag. “I’m fine, Collins. Let’s get this back to the car and keep moving.”

Jake raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. He grabbed the box again, grunting under its weight as they made their way out of the apartment. 

As they reached the car, Rose paused, gripping the prism bag tightly. The warmth in her chest lingered, spreading slowly. She exhaled, brushing a strand of darkening auburn hair out of her face.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The drive started in silence, the hum of the engine the only sound filling the police cruiser. Jake drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, sneaking the occasional glance at Rose, who sat stiffly in the passenger seat. She had barely spoken since they left Stacey’s apartment, her focus fixed on the evidence bag in her lap.

“You sure you’re good, Detective?” Jake asked, breaking the silence. “You’ve been kind of… quiet.”

Rose blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. “I’m fine,” she said with mild impatience. She shifted in her seat, the collar of her uniform suddenly feeling too tight. She loosened it with a quick tug, her fingers brushing against her throat.

Jake didn’t look convinced. “If you say so,” he muttered, turning his eyes back to the road.

The heat in Rose’s chest hadn’t subsided, it had grown. It wasn’t unpleasant, exactly, but it was distracting. A low, steady warmth that made her skin feel overly sensitive, her pulse quicker than it should’ve been. She rolled her shoulders, trying to shake the sensation.

“You think this Stacey girl planned all this?” Jake asked, glancing at her briefly. “I mean, stealing an artifact and then ditching town? Doesn’t exactly scream ‘impulsive crime of opportunity.’”

Rose pressed her fingers against her temple, massaging the growing tension there. “I don’t know,” she said curtly. “We don’t have enough to go on yet. Maybe she was desperate. Maybe she didn’t think it through. Either way, speculating won’t get us anywhere.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Okay, calm down. Just trying to make conversation.”

Rose sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just…” She cut herself off, unsure how to explain the heat building inside her, the way her skin seemed to hum with energy.

Jake glanced over, his brows knitting together. “Hey, uh… did you dye your hair red?  Sorry if I missed that earlier. It looks great. I should’ve said something.”

“What?” Rose snapped, letting the strands fall.

“I’m serious,” Jake said, his tone light but tinged with unease. “You’ve got this whole… redhead thing going on. It looks good, though.”

Her breath caught. She reached up, pulling the strands forward to inspect them.

Red.

Her brows furrowed as she stared at the color between her fingers. It couldn’t be right…her hair was gray, had been for years.

“What the hell?” she whispered, leaning closer to the mirror.

Her face was changing. Subtly, but unmistakably. The fine lines around her eyes and mouth had softened, her complexion taking on a faint, flushed glow. Her lips looked fuller, their natural pink hue deepening into a bold, almost crimson color. Her sharp, aged features had smoothed, replaced with something softer, younger… alluring.

“You okay over there?” Jake asked, his voice laced with concern.

“I’m fine,” she said automatically, her tone sharper than she intended. She pulled back from the mirror, running a hand through her hair again. The glossy auburn waves fell perfectly into place, framing her face.

The heat in her chest flared, spreading down her arms and legs like a wildfire. Her uniform felt tighter, the fabric pulling against her skin. She shifted in her seat, tugging at her blouse, but the constriction only seemed to get worse.

“Stop the car,” she said suddenly.

Jake blinked. “What?”

“Pull over,” Rose repeated, her voice low and commanding.

Jake hesitated, his hands tightening on the wheel. “Detective, what’s going on? You’re acting… weird.”

“Just pull over, Jake,” Rose snapped, her tone leaving no room for argument.

With a muttered curse, Jake guided the car to the side of the road, the tires crunching against gravel as they came to a stop. He turned to Rose, his brows furrowed. “Okay, seriously. What’s going on with you?”

Rose didn’t answer. She pushed open the car door and stepped out, the cool evening air hitting her like a shock. She exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to her chest. The heat was unbearable now, every inch of her skin burning with a strange energy.

Jake followed, stepping around the car. “Rose? Talk to me. What’s happening?”

She turned to face him, and Jake froze.

Her uniform had changed. The once loose and practical blouse now clung to her body, the fabric shimmering faintly as it tightened around her curves. Her pants had shifted into sleek, high-waisted trousers that accentuated her long legs. Her sensible shoes had transformed into tall, black stilettos that clicked against the pavement as she moved.

“Detective?” Jake’s voice wavered.

Rose smiled, slow and deliberate. Her crimson lips curled as she stepped closer, the glow of her skin catching the fading sunlight. “Relax, Jake,” she said, her voice low and sultry. “I’m fine. Better than fine, actually.”

Jake stumbled back a step, his heart pounding. “Rose, this isn’t you. Something’s wrong.”

Her smile widened, and she reached out, her fingers trailing along the front of his shirt. “Wrong?” she murmured, tilting her head. “I feel… amazing. Like I could take on the world.”

Jake swallowed hard, his back pressing against the car. “We need to get you help. This is…”

“Shh,” Rose interrupted, placing a finger against his lips. ”You’re overthinking, Jake. Just… let go.”

Jake froze as Rose’s finger lingered against his lips, her touch electric and overwhelming. Her lips curled into a slow, deliberate smile. 

“Relax, Jake,” she said, her voice low and honeyed. She tilted her head, her hazel eyes fixing him with a smoldering gaze. “I’m fine. Better than fine, actually.”

Jake stumbled back a step, his heart pounding as she stepped closer, her heels clicking softly against the gravel. “Rose, something’s very wrong,” he said, his voice trembling but firm.

Her smile widened, sultry and predatory. “Wrong?” she murmured, tilting her head as her fingers trailed along the front of his shirt. “I feel… amazing. Like I could take on the world.” Her hand lingered, her touch sending jolts of warmth through him.

Jake swallowed hard, his back pressing against the car. “We need to get you help. This is…”

“Shh,” Rose interrupted, placing a finger against his lips again. Her touch silenced him, her breath warm against his cheek. “You’re overthinking, Jake. Just… let go.” Her voice was a whisper now, each word dripping with allure.

“Rose,” he managed, his voice cracking slightly as he grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her hand away. “This isn’t like you. You’re not acting like yourself.”

Her expression darkened instantly, her playful smile twisting into a scowl. “Not like myself?” she snapped, her voice sharp and fiery. “Who the hell are you to tell me who I am, Jake?” She stepped even closer, her presence overwhelming.

Jake blinked, startled by her sudden shift. “Rose, I…”

“Shut up,” she hissed, her voice low and dangerous, though her lips curled back into a seductive smile. “Don’t be so boring, Jake. Don’t you ever want to take what you want?”

Jake’s jaw tightened as he fought to maintain his composure. “This isn’t you, Rose. I think that prism did something…”

“Don’t talk to me about that stupid fucking prism!” she snapped, her voice rising with a fiery edge. “I don’t need anything to know what I want. And right now, I know exactly what I want.” Her hand slid up his chest, her nails grazing his skin through his shirt, sharp enough to make him shudder. She leaned in, her lips inches from his, her breath hot against his face.

“Rose, stop,” Jake said, his voice trembling. “We’re on duty. This isn’t right.”

Rose’s lips curled into a cruel smirk, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, of course. ‘Duty.’ The rules. The badge.” She snorted, pulling back slightly as her eyes flashed with irritation. “You’re pathetic, Jake. Too scared to let yourself go. Too scared to handle a real woman.”

Jake’s pulse quickened as her words cut deep, but he held his ground, even as she pressed closer. Her body radiated heat, her scent thick and intoxicating. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you. This thing is changing you, and you’re not thinking straight.”

Her smirk vanished, replaced by a fiery glare. “Don’t you dare tell me I’m not thinking straight,” she growled, her voice trembling with barely contained fury. “I’ve never been more clear in my life. You just can’t handle it.”

Jake flinched as she took another step toward him, her presence suffocating. “Rose, please. You’re not yourself. We need to figure this out before…”

“Before what?” she barked, her voice rising with fury. “Before I stop being your tame little mentor? Before I stop following your boring rules?” She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “Guess what, Jake? I’m done with rules. I’m done with you.”

Her fingers curled around the front of his shirt, balling the fabric into her fist. With a sudden, sharp tug, she yanked, ripping it open with a loud tear. Buttons scattered across the gravel as Jake stumbled back, his chest now exposed to the cool night air.

“Rose!” he protested, his voice cracking as he instinctively grabbed for the ruined shirt, trying to pull it back together. “What the hell are you doing?!”

She ignored him, her eyes dark with hunger. “You act so uptight,” she purred, stepping closer again, her heels clicking softly against the ground. “But I see through it. You’re just a scared little boy, afraid to lose control.” She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear.

Jake froze, his breath hitching. “This isn’t you,” he managed weakly.

She smirked against his skin, her voice a low whisper. “This is me, Jake. This is me, right here, right now.” Without warning, she nipped at his earlobe, her teeth grazing it hard enough to make him wince. The sharp sting sent a jolt through him, but she didn’t stop, her breath hot and unrelenting as she whispered, “Does that scare you? Or do you like it?”

Jake shoved her back gently but firmly, his hands shaking as he put some distance between them. “Rose, enough!” he said, his voice breaking. “This isn’t right, and you know it.”

Her eyes blazed with fury at the rejection. “Right?” she spat, her voice trembling with anger. “Who the fuck are you to tell me what’s right?” Her chest heaved, her flushed skin glowing faintly in the fading light. “You can’t handle the pressure, Jake. You can’t rise to the situation.”

“That’s not true,” Jake said, his voice low, though he wasn’t sure if he believed it. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you. And you’re out of control.”

Rose’s lips twisted into a sneer. “Out of control? No, Jake. I’m finally in control. For once in my life, I know what I want, and I’m not letting you, or anyone, get in my way.” Her voice rose with each word, her anger bubbling over, ready to erupt.

“Rose, please,” Jake said, his voice quieter now, pleading. “You don’t have to do this. Just stop for a second and…”

“Stop?” she screamed, her fists clenching at her sides. “I’m not stopping, Jake! I’m done stopping for you, for the badge, for anyone!” She stepped toward him again, her movements sharp and purposeful. Jake backed away instinctively, but there was nowhere to go. His back hit the car, the cold metal pressing against his bare skin.

Her gaze darted to the evidence bag sitting on the hood of the car, and her expression twisted with disgust. “This stupid little prism,” she muttered, grabbing the bag and tearing it open. She pulled the prism out, holding it in her hand like it was a personal affront. “You think this thing changed me? No, Jake. It just woke me up. It made me see how pathetic I’ve been. How pathetic you are.”

Jake raised his hands in a calming gesture, his voice soft but firm. “Rose, don’t do something you’ll regret. That’s evidence, and it might be the only thing that can help us fix this.”

“Fix it?” she repeated, her voice dripping with disdain. “There’s nothing to fix, Jake. I don’t need your rules. I don’t need the precinct. And I sure as hell don’t need you.” Her grip on the prism tightened, her knuckles white as her anger flared.

“Rose, wait,” Jake said, stepping toward her, but it was too late.

With a furious scream, Rose turned and hurled the prism into the nearby pond. It sailed through the air, catching the last rays of sunlight before plunging into the water with a faint splash. Red light rippled across the surface, spreading in glowing circles before fading into the depths.

Jake stared in disbelief, his chest heaving. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” he shouted, his voice breaking with anger and desperation. “We needed that!”

Rose turned back to him, her face a mixture of fury and smug satisfaction. “No, Jake,” she said coldly. “You needed it. I don’t need anything.”

Before he could respond, she stalked back toward the car, her stilettos clicking loudly against the gravel. 

“Rose, don’t do this,” Jake called after her, his voice trembling. “We can fix this, just stop and think for a second!”

She climbed into the driver’s seat, her hands gripping the wheel tightly. She glanced at him through the open window, her lips curling into a cruel smile. “Good luck fishing it out,” she said, her voice dripping with mockery.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The low hum of the stereo filled the room, a sultry bassline vibrating through the dimly lit apartment. Rose stood by the window, one hand resting on her hip, the other holding a glass of red wine that glinted under the soft glow of the pendant lights. She swirled the glass idly, her lips curling into a satisfied smile as she watched the man across the room.

“Nice place,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with a dangerous edge. He leaned casually against the back of her couch, his leather jacket hanging open to reveal the black tank top beneath. His arms were tattooed, a canvas of inked flames and skulls that matched the cocky smirk tugging at his lips. “Didn’t peg you for the cozy type, though.”

Rose let out a low laugh, her head tilting slightly as her auburn waves caught the light. “You’re not here for my decor, sweetheart,” she purred, taking a slow sip of her wine. Her eyes, fiery and gleaming, raked over him with unapologetic hunger. “You’re here because you couldn’t resist.”

He chuckled, pushing off the couch and taking a few steps toward her, his boots heavy against the floor. “You’ve got confidence. I’ll give you that,” he said, his tone teasing. “But let’s not pretend you didn’t notice me first. That little spin you did in the cruiser when you pulled over? Not exactly subtle.”

Rose shrugged, her lips quirking into a wicked grin. “What can I say? I know what I like. And when I see something I want, I take it.” She set her glass down on the windowsill, turning to face him fully. Her red dress clung to her body like a second skin. 

“And what is it you want?” he asked, his voice dropping lower as his eyes traveled over her. He didn’t bother hiding his admiration.

“You,” Rose said simply, her smile deepening. She took a step closer, her heels clicking softly against the floor. “Or maybe it’s more like… us. Something tells me you’re not the type to play it safe, are you?”

The man’s grin widened as he leaned down slightly to meet her gaze. “Safe’s boring,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “You know that, don’t you? You don’t strike me as the kind of woman who likes boring.”

Rose’s laughter bubbled up, bright and sharp as she reached up, her fingers tracing along the collar of his jacket. “You’d be right,” she murmured, amused. “Safe is for people with something to lose. Me? I’ve never felt more alive.”

Her nails grazed his collarbone as she pushed his jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. He didn’t flinch, his hands finding her waist as he pulled her closer. The heat between them was palpable.

“Tell me something,” he said, his lips brushing against her ear as his hands slid lower, over the curve of her hips. “Are you always like this, or did I catch you on a good night?”

Rose’s smile widened, her fingers trailing along his jawline before tangling in his hair. “You’re lucky,” she whispered, her voice low and dangerous. “This is me at my best.”

She didn’t wait for a response. Her lips crushed against his, demanding, as she backed him up against the couch. The kiss was a battle for control, both of them pushing and pulling, passionately.

His hands tightened on her waist, pulling her closer as she straddled his lap. Her red dress rode up her thighs, revealing the full length of her fishnet stockings. She didn’t care. All that mattered was the thrill.

“You’re something else,” he murmured against her lips, his voice breathless.

“You have no idea,” Rose replied, a wicked gleam in her eye as she pulled off her dress. 

[sixlane]

do you have any good bartylus thoughts

i alwayssss have good bartylus thoughts. recently been thinking about bartylus and infidelity. in my true version of bartylus they never really define their relationship. they hook up, they’re best friends, none of it means anything, except it means everything. so they’re never “dating” per se and therefore technically they can’t be unfaithful to each other. except barty knows who he is to regulus. in his mind regulus is the only thing that’s holding him down. and he knows that in order to be what he needs to be for regulus he has to choose him always above everyone. this isn’t to say he wouldn’t sleep with other people or even be in a relationship with someone else, it’s more so that he’d drop anyone immediately for regulus. if regulus asked him to only be with him, he would. <- and i think this is what regulus wants BUT he can’t ask for that. he loves the power he holds over barty even if he doesn’t realize it but he’s too afraid to define them. because if they’re something it’ll hurt so much more if barty leaves. sooooo it’s a whole miscommunication thing. regulus is stuck being hurt by barty being with other people and barty has no idea. i think regulus probably sleeps around a lot to make himself feel better or to get back at barty but barty will never care about it like regulus does because he’s just devoted devoted devoted. if regulus needs to sleep with other people, he can live with that. and it pisses regulus off to no end that barty will never get jealous or possessive in the way he wants him to. basically, they’re doomed always 🫶🏻 and it’s sirius’ fault.

[skzficstapes]

track 01: ghost of you by 5sos

The apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of the heater and the occasional creak of the floorboards. You sat on the couch, a blanket draped over your shoulders, staring blankly at the cup of tea in your hands. It had gone cold long ago, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Chan’s absence was a weight that never lifted, a ghost that lingered in every corner of the life you once shared. The apartment still smelled faintly of him—his cologne, the detergent he insisted on using because it "smelled like home." Even months later, you couldn’t bring yourself to change much. His jacket still hung by the door. His favorite mug sat untouched in the kitchen.

And yet, despite your efforts to preserve his memory, you knew it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever bring him back.

A knock at the door broke the silence, startling you. For a moment, you didn’t move, as if ignoring it would make the world leave you alone. But the knocking came again, more insistent this time.

You sighed, setting the tea down and shuffling to the door. When you opened it, Jisung stood there, his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat, snowflakes dusting his dark hair.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft.

“Hey,” you replied, stepping aside to let him in.

He hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, shaking the snow off his coat and toeing off his boots. He’d been coming around a lot lately—bringing groceries, fixing little things around the apartment, keeping you company even when you didn’t ask for it. He was Chan’s best friend, and now, in his absence, he seemed determined to fill the void.

You appreciated it. You did. But it also made things more complicated.

“You didn’t have to come,” you said, closing the door behind him.

“You didn’t answer my texts,” he said simply, his tone more matter-of-fact than accusatory. He shrugged off his coat, hanging it on the rack beside Chan’s. The sight of them together, one belonging to the past and one to the present, made your chest tighten.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I just... wanted to check on you.”

You nodded, retreating to the couch. He followed, sitting down beside you but keeping a careful distance.

“How are you holding up?” he asked after a moment.

“I’m fine,” you said automatically, though the crack in your voice betrayed the lie.

Jisung sighed, leaning back against the couch. “You don’t have to say that, you know. Not with me.”

You didn’t respond, your eyes fixed on the cold tea on the table.

“It’s okay to not be okay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You closed your eyes, willing the tears to stay at bay. “I miss him,” you admitted, your voice shaking.

“I know,” Jisung said.

You looked at him then, and the raw emotion in his eyes nearly undid you. He missed Chan too, you knew that. They’d been inseparable, practically brothers. Losing him had shattered Jisung in his own way, and yet he was here, trying to hold you together when he was still piecing himself back.

“Sometimes I feel like he’s still here,” you said, your voice barely audible. “Like if I turn around, I’ll see him standing there, smiling like nothing’s wrong.”

Jisung swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I feel that way too,” he admitted. “It’s like... he’s everywhere and nowhere at the same time.”

Silence settled between you, heavy with the weight of shared grief.

“I don’t know how to move on,” you said after a while, your voice trembling. “I don’t even know if I want to.”

Jisung shifted closer, his hand hovering near yours before he pulled it back. “You don’t have to move on,” he said softly. “Not in the way people think. You can carry him with you. It doesn’t mean you’re letting go. It just means... you’re finding a way to keep living.”

His words hit something deep inside you, something you’d been avoiding. You turned to look at him, and for the first time, you really saw him—not just as Chan’s best friend, but as someone who was trying to navigate this loss just like you.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice breaking.

“I know,” he said. And then, after a beat, “Me too.”

The space between you seemed to shrink, the air charged with something you couldn’t quite name. His gaze dropped to your lips for a fleeting second before he quickly looked away, guilt flashing across his face.

“Sorry,” he muttered, pulling back.

“Jisung...” you began, but you didn’t know what to say.

He stood abruptly, running a hand through his hair. “I should go,” he said, his voice tight.

“Wait,” you said, standing as well.

He paused, his back to you, his shoulders tense.

“I don’t want to be alone,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

He turned slowly, his eyes searching yours. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice laced with both hope and hesitation.

You nodded, though your chest felt like it might cave in. “Stay.”

He hesitated for a moment before stepping closer, his hand reaching out to brush against yours. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, and for a brief, reckless moment, you wondered what it would feel like to close the distance completely.

But then the guilt hit you like a tidal wave, and you pulled your hand away.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, tears welling up again. “I can’t—”

“It’s okay,” he said quickly, his own eyes glistening. “I get it. I do.”

The tension between you was unbearable, a mix of longing and guilt and something you couldn’t name.

“I’ll stay,” he said finally, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his eyes. “But only as long as you need me to.”

You nodded, the tears spilling over as he pulled you into a hug. You clung to him, the warmth of his embrace both a comfort and a reminder of what you’d lost.

And as the night stretched on, you stayed there, tangled in a web of grief and love and the haunting presence of the one who was no longer there. The ghost of Chan lingered between you, a silent witness to the connection you and Jisung were too afraid to fully acknowledge.

For now, it was enough. But you both knew it couldn’t stay that way forever.

[jewishrizahawkeye]

im at the point in the parks and rec rewatch where they got really really big and it kinda loses some of its charm

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

As per usual, it’s DP crossover with (probably) DC, although you could probably adjust it for other fandoms

ANYWAYS

A little kid and his mother are trick or treating in another city, perhaps at some kind of event rather than knocking on doors, and the kid is dressed as Phantom. It’s very adorable, with his little ghost-shaped bucket and clearly homemade and already stained costume—listen, white only works if you can just fly over street grime or phase it out of your clothes—and his slightly I’ll fitting wig. The kid is SO happy to be out and about dressed as his favorite, and maybe even showed it off to Phantom back in Amity Park before his family left.

The hero, insert whoever you wish here, is probably in civvies and just enjoying the event. The kid, meanwhile, is so glad when people ask who he is so he can explain, and so- the hero gets to hear ALL ABOUT the local town hero who is probably pretty small time despite the kid’s clearly exaggerated stories. The hero certainly never heard of him, but the kid’s mom confirms that Phantom really was the town hero, despite some mixed reviews of the poor guy.

“Did you manage to show him your costume?” the hero asks.

“Yeah! We went down to the cemetery to leave flowers and I got to show him my costume.”

Wait. Cemetery? Maybe it was part of theme, because Phantom had to be named that for a reason, but… it sounded like…

The kid ignores the suddenly VERY still hero and instead turns to his mom. “Momma, do you think we should bring him candy? He doesn’t get to trick or treat like we do, and I can work super hard to get him a bunch!”

The kid’s mom just smiles. “We could, but maybe we should bring him something homemade. I bet he’d like something more filling, teen boys like him have a hollow leg.”

The kid wrinkles his nose. “Like Vernie with the pizza bagels?”

“Like your cousin, yes. We can make some cinnamon rolls and take them to his memorial, maybe bring some of the apples from your grandpa’s garden…”

The hero is pretty much forgotten as the two-part family wanders off, not quite intentionally forgetting the hero is there so much as the hero somewhat accidentally ended the conversation when they just froze and didn’t ask anything further.

Not that the hero didn’t want to. But they’d learn something very serious.

One—there was a small town hero they’d never heard of. Two—that hero was apparently a teen. Third—most pressingly, the teen hero was both beloved enough to have kids dressing up as him and dead enough to have a grave.

This… might require some phone calls.