#happy ending yay!!!

[hoonatic]

emergency contact | park sunghoon x reader

prompt: weeks after your breakup, sunghoon finds out that he’s still your emergency contact. pairing: non-idol sunghoon x implied female reader genre: angst with hopeful/happy? ending; second chance romance??; exes to lovers??? word count: 2800 note: i’ve had a cute fic idea that i wanted to write forever…but this is not it. the sad demons have visited me once again. hope y’all enjoy nevertheless and any feedback is much appreciated <3

sunghoon was miserable. 

it had been three weeks, five days, two hours, and thirty-two minutes since the two of you had gone no contact.

he wished he could say he was happy to be single, that he was no longer “locked down” and “whipped” as his friends had always called him. but the so-called “freedom” felt like hell since it meant losing you.

at first, he kept telling himself that time would heal the pain. “it’s natural,” he had repeated like a mantra, “she was your best friend and lover for years.” but no, this heartbreak was inhumane. his desire to see you, apologize endlessly, and spend days holding you until you could feel every ounce of his love was gnawing at his soul. if anything, it got worse by the minute.

he had tried so hard to balance work and the rest of his life, using the excuse several times that he was securing this future for your shared life with him. that one day, you’d be able to reap the rewards of his efforts and live comfortably together without stress.

but what was the use of all of that now? the future he had worked so hard to create was ripped out from his hands by no one other than himself. 

you had accused him of being too busy for you. dates canceled at the last minute, a birthday forgotten, and all the texts left on read had built up to the argument that ended it all. he was always good at fighting, a little too good. he had retorted that you weren’t being supportive, and he was never one to sugarcoat his words. his tongue was sharp, and he did nothing to dull its blade.

but there wasn’t too much yelling on your part, and he thought that that hurt more. he wanted you to fight back, to stand your ground because he knew deep down that he was being the asshole. his toxic thought was that by you fighting back, this meant that you were still fighting for your relationship. but instead, you just stared with silent tears and a blank expression. seeing the indifference in eyes that had previously held so much love was a sight that would stay with him forever. so, in fear of you leaving, he ran instead.

he was a coward, leaving your shared home to run back to the apartment he had still technically owned but hadn’t lived in for more than a year. he locked himself away for a few days, but the realization that you hadn’t attempted to contact him burned more than he could put into words. you were done with him. he had hurt you, had the audacity to be the one to run, and now he had lost you.

he had even run from his job. he couldn’t stand to walk into the same building he stayed in when he forgot dates with you. his coworkers wouldn’t stop asking what happened to him, why he looked so rough. he even found an empty container that had once held lunch you made for him. but his final straw was getting promoted. his first instinct was to call you, but he remembered the sad truth before he could dial. any ounce of pride was washed away with shame in that moment. that same day, he quit without notice.

so there he was: miserable, alone, and unemployed with nothing left to run from but memories. he had spent the last week going through his phone and saving your pictures together in a locked album. he wouldn’t dare delete them, but he couldn’t stomach looking at you either.

he wished he could get drunk and sleep away the pain. he had tried, he definitely did - but that night, he dreamt of you. you were smiling at first, eyes ever full of love. you were speaking, yet he couldn’t hear you. but he could see how your words started to gradually look sadder, and slowly, tears started to fall as your grin dropped. he woke up that next morning crying with the conclusion that he would have to face this heartbreak sober.

but another day of scrolling through albums had stopped abruptly when he saw the notification that changed everything.

SOS i called emergency services from this approximate location after my watch detected a hard fall. you are receiving this message because i have you listed as my emergency contact.

sunghoon had to remind himself to breathe.

he had purchased that watch for you as a “just because” present months ago. you had complained of bad sleep and he wanted you to use it as a way to track your slumber. he hated seeing you tired. he knew that the watch had a fall detection function, but it had never been used before.

his heart was in his stomach as he went to his favorite contacts page and selected your name for the first time in weeks.

“please,” he begged, all notion of running away from you leaving his brain, “pick up please.”

but you just weren’t answering. so he tried again and again and again.

for a moment while the line attempted to connect, he wondered if this was how he had made you feel for months - desperate for a sliver of attention from him. but instead, he was desperate for a sign of life.

finally, after about two minutes of trying to reach you, his body moved of its own accord. before he knew it, his car keys were in his hands and he was out the door.

the car ride there might have been the worst part. the speed at which he drove at almost defied the laws of physics. other drivers were cursing at him but he wasn’t registering anything except the thought of your safety. he just needed to get to you.

why did he run? why didn’t he try to talk it out? if he was so afraid of losing you, why did he do the one thing that would guarantee that? he should have been there like he promised to be from the beginning. you would have been safe with him.

when he pulled up to the house you had shared for so long, he suddenly felt the world slow down. why were emergency services there? you should’ve canceled them by now.

he had to double park as the ambulance was blocking the driveway. why were they here?

the emts and police had arrived at the same time as him, which both increased his anxiety and soothed him. for one, that meant he had been quick enough. but why did you need them?

“sir, do you know–” an officer had approached him as he stumbled to the front door. all he could understand was your name. why were they asking if he knew you? of course he knew you. you, the love of his life. you, his soulmate by every meaning of the word. you were you. and you were safe.

as if sensing his distress, he felt an emt worker pull him to the side as the same officer prepared to break down the door. seeing this, sunghoon finally returned to his senses.

“w-wait! sorry, i have a key.” sunghoon’s hands were shaking. the only way that door had unlocked was by pure muscle memory because he didn’t understand what he was doing at all.

as soon as the door opened, sunghoon tried to step in. finally, he was close to you. 

the officer, however, pulled him back.

“sir, you should wait here. we need to make an initial search before you can go in.”

“what, why? if she’s in there, i want to see–”

“sir, it’s just in case we find something we wouldn’t want you to see.”

all of sunghoon’s hesitation and fear went out the window at those words. his body flew automatically as he ran inside.

he screamed your name as he rushed in, ignoring the yells of the police officers who followed him in. as it had been for almost four weeks, his only thought was you. he just needed you.

he checked the ground floor first, eyes scanning the open space in less than a second as his body avoided an officer trying to grab him. sunghoon then moved to the staircase, long legs prepared to skip steps to reach you. then suddenly, he heard the voice his ears had been longing for,

“sunghoon?!”

his head shot up. there you were, finally. he saw the sadness, confusion, and fear all flash your face as you registered the emergency workers behind him. you looked exhausted and unruly, but he had never felt more in love.

he didn’t even remember climbing the steps, but suddenly he was at the top of the staircase and you were in his arms. 

you could feel him trembling as he held you. you took his face into your hands to look at him, “sunghoon? what’s wrong? why are you here? is it my parents? is someone hurt?” you watched as his mouth opened but no words came out. after a few seconds, one of the officers spoke from the bottom of the steps,

“ma’am, we received an alert from your device that a hard fall had occurred.”

suddenly, you understood everything. taking sunghoon’s hand gently, you led him down the stairs, afraid he’d fall from shock. he followed you silently, but his grip tightened seemingly with every step.

that’s when you noticed your shattered watch on the third step.

you let sunghoon go and you could hear his deep breath when you did. you picked up the watch and offered it up to the officer as an explanation, “i’m sorry officer, it looks like there’s been a misunderstanding…”

the officer nodded in understanding, and dismissed the emts, “got it, ma’am. we will still need a formal report for our records since this was registered as an emergency call.” he motioned to your couch as he took out a pen and paper.

you reached for sunghoon’s hand once more and led him to sit with you. in the moment, you knew he needed you more than you would ever understand. so, as you explained to the officer, you held his trembling hand, rubbing soothing circles with your thumb.

“i was doing laundry here downstairs and had taken off my watch to prevent it from getting wet,” you recounted, “i put it on top of the basket of clothes that i took upstairs. i remember tripping a little going up the stairs - i didn’t fall, but that must’ve been when the watch fell."

"what about your phone, where is it? i'm sure your boyfriend must've tried to call you."

sunghoon slowly nodded at that, turning to look at you. you smiled sheepishly, "i left it upstairs and it was on silent while i folded the clothes. i’m so sorry for the inconvenience.”

after finishing up your statement, the remaining officer prepared to leave. as he walked out the door, he gave a soft smile to the both of you,

“glad to see it was a false alarm, ma’am. you had this gentleman quite worried - ran so fast i couldn’t even grab him!” the officer laughed, “you two have a nice day now! sorry about your watch, though!”

after he shut your door, the silence enveloped your home. you closed your eyes and breathed deeply to prepare to speak to your ex-boyfriend. but as soon as you opened them, sunghoon started to cry softly.

he hugged you tighter than he ever had, and soon enough, his face was buried in your neck. his cries were silent, but you could feel his body shaking as his tears soaked your shirt.

“sunghoon…” you started, stroking his back, “i’m sorry i worried you, honey.”

you knew you shouldn’t be calling your ex pet names, especially an ex that had run from you without properly ending the relationship. but your heart still held so much love for him that it flowed out naturally. and you knew he was crying from more than just worry, so you doubt he minded at all in the moment.

his crying slowed down as his arms took to loosely wrapping around your waist instead. he pulled away from your neck to rest his forehead on yours. from this angle, you could see his swollen eyes and red nose - a sight so rare in all the years you had dated. he was never a crier after all.

but memories of several late-night conversations rushed your mind. he always said his number one fear was your death, and now you could see he had never lied about that.

he could see your mind go elsewhere so he called your name softly, “don’t say you’re sorry. i’m so happy, these are relieved tears. and i just really, really missed you.” he croaked out. you knew he had more to say, so you just nodded, letting him go on.

“and i’m sorry, baby. for everything. i shouldn’t have run, i shouldn’t have tried to egg you on to fight me back. i shouldn’t have even fought anything you said that night. you were right. i didn’t prioritize you. in my attempt to secure you for life, i let you go instead. i’m so sorry, i never wanted to break up.” he was rambling in earnest now, afraid that no words would make you take him back.

you listened quietly as he went on for a few minutes after that, hand continuing to rub his back, “i know honey, i know.”

“baby, you need to understand that i almost died thinking you almost died today,” you could’ve laughed at how dramatically he spoke, “i couldn’t breathe right thinking that our last conversation could’ve been an argument. that you wouldn't have ever known just how deeply i love you and need you. i have so much regret for how i treated you, but if you’d give me the chance, i have all the time in the world to make it up to you…let’s go on that vacation i promised you. we can leave tomorrow if you’d like.” he smiled hopefully at you.

“hoon,” his heart soared at the use of his beloved nickname, “what do you mean? don’t you have work? can you really leave with such short notice?”

“i quit my job.”

“excuse me?”

“no job that made me work that much is worth it. i’ll find one with better work-life balance…after our vacation. if that’s what you still want of course…” he spoke more quietly, as if afraid of rejection.

you sighed. you really should be realistic with this - you two had been broken up for a few weeks at that point. you knew the love was still there, but was this a good decision?

while there was still some hesitation on your part, you couldn't help but notice how gingerly he held you. his arms were still around your waist loosely, yet there was something desperate about their hold. you knew he was holding back from hurting you - you could tell how tightly he wanted to hug you.

he was so shaken up at the idea of you being hurt that he rushed over there despite the two of you not being on speaking terms. for someone who had trouble communicating how he felt sometimes, you knew his actions spoke louder than words. he always acted brave, but there was so much he feared. and you knew losing you was always at the top of this list.

you could also feel how he was simply soaking in the sight of your face. his eyes were shy, yet determined. he wasn't going to risk missing another second of staring at you. a part of you grew conscious, but you knew he was just taking in what he had missed for weeks.

“what about…” you started and almost giggled at how he perked up, “we take it slow - another two weeks or so to talk everything out and relax? to get us to a good place again before you hold me hostage in some foreign country?”

sunghoon smiled softly, kissing your forehead. you leaned in naturally to his warmth, to his touch that you missed so much. “that sounds like a great idea, love.” he spoke, “we’ll get you a new watch too. and i’ll do all the itinerary planning and packing whenever you’re ready, okay? i love you.”

“okay. and i love you too. can’t wait to enjoy your unemployment with you for now!”

one smile and nod from you had him taking you into his arms once more, relishing in your being. he was back where he belonged. he had experienced the scariest reminder ever that he needed you, and sunghoon was never letting you go now.

[mewtwoandme]

I managed to get something done lol

Happy Father's Day to all the cool dads out there!!

[thestuffedalligator]

I’ve talked about this before but I feel obligated every now and then to talk about the time Jimmy Stewart smuggled a yeti finger from a Nepalese Buddhist monastery to America.

The Pangboche Hand was the skeletal hand of a yeti who was a disciple of Lama Sangwa Dorje, and the finger of the hand was stolen in 1959 by a Bigfoot researcher named Peter C. Byrne after the monks refused to let him take the hand for research. Once Byrne got the finger into India, “It’s A Wonderful Life” star Jimmy Stewart, James “Anatomy of a Murder” Stewart, smuggled the finger out of India and to the States by — allegedly — hiding it in his wife’s lingerie case, because no gentleman would ever check a woman's lingerie case.

Byrne, by the way, was hired to steal the finger by eccentric millionaire oil tycoon Tom Slick, who spent the ‘50s obsessed with cryptozoology before dying in a plane crash in Montana. Not important for the story, important to me personally that you know this.

And I tell you this because “Jimmy Stewart smuggled a yeti finger in his wife’s lingerie case” is a fun collection of words and also to remind you that cryptozoology is awash with colonial assholes who will step over other cultures to find the “proof” they feel entitled to.

[jeon6yeon]

Who’ll Stop the Rain ‘青春並不溫柔’ (2023) Dir. I-Hsuan Su

[koinotame]

quick apology fic to xiao for missing his bday </3 which doubles as a character study of xiao and an exploration of how you as the player interact with the self aware characters in self aware au

it’s been a couple of weeks since you last used him.

or has it only been several days? whether it’s days or years, it all feels like the blink of an eye to him. the flow of time is somewhat of a nebulous concept for someone like him, especially since you first appeared.

it doesn’t matter. however long you take to come back, xiao will wait dutifully for you.

he spends most of his time when you’re not making use of him subjugating threats around liyue and fighting off any unwanted foes. perhaps you’ll come back faster if the area is freer of enemies. you’re kind, after all. you seem much happier when it’s peaceful.

lately, when there’s no demons for him to quell, he’s found himself returning to the same spot on wangshu inn’s upper balcony. it’s the spot you always drop him off at before disappearing. it’s not the place at the top of the inn’s roof he’d pick on his own, though you do sometimes take him up there as well.

you’re not actually there, but if he closes his eyes it almost feels like you are.

his birthday was a couple days ago. as usual, the traveller had suggested he write you a letter. as usual, he wasn’t sure what he could possibly convey to you that you would be happy to receive.

the traveller insisted anything from him would make you happy, but xiao doubts that.

it’s easier when you’re here. it’s easier when you’re here and he can submit himself entirely to you and doesn’t have to think for himself.

he’s been dreaming more lately, particularly of you. he doesn’t know what you look like, and after he wakes up he can never quite remember what you looked like in his dreams.

waking up after dreaming of you is always hard for xiao. it’s shameful how badly he wants to go back to dreaming of doing such mundane things with you, and it’s disgraceful how long it takes him to pick himself back up afterwards.

he wonders if you’d like doing dull things like that with someone like him.

he wonders if he deserves that.

probably not.

he left the letter at the railing of that same—your—spot, along with a serving of his almond tofu (he might not like dreaming, but he hopes your dreams are as sweet as his have been lately), some dream solvent (the traveller had mentioned you seemed to want more) and a small bundle of qixing (you frequently go out of your way to collect it).

you never touch it.

…after a couple days, he decided to move the offering to his room. it stays there, on his windowsill where the sun touches it in a way that reminds him of your warmth, untouched.

it doesn’t matter, he tells himself. he’ll wait for you for as long as you want. even if another thousand years pass before you appear again, he’ll continue his duty and wait.

and then he blinks and suddenly finds himself in front of the adventurer’s guild in the court of fontaine.

another blink and he’s back at wangshu inn, this time heading towards the kitchen. the familiar aura of your possession fills him with a warmth he doesn’t think exists outside of you. he zones out for what feels no longer than a couple seconds, and suddenly there’s thirty servings of almond tofu in front of him.

your mood drops.

dissatisfaction seeps through you and into him. something deep in his gut squirms.

you set a large amount of sweet flowers to boil, then seem to fuss with something he can’t quite see or grasp. smiley yanxiao gives him a curious look, but doesn’t (cannot) comment any further.

in another couple of seconds—your teleportation hardly fazed him when you first started using him, let alone now when he’s so used to your presence—he’s in front of the liyuean general goods store. you buy up the entire stock of milk, and only milk.

your mood hasn’t improved. if anything, you seem even more downcast.

the milk dissipates as soon as it’s been bought, safely held in your near infinite storage.

he’s behind mondstadt’s hotel next, jumping down the railing and towards the local general goods store. again, you buy up all the milk. next you head for the good hunter (is that what it’s called? he thinks that’s what the traveller called it some time ago) and purchase as much of their sugar as you can.

tendrils of something truly unpleasant move upwards and wrap around his neck.

he finds himself in wangshu inn’s kitchen again. barely any of the sweet flowers have been processed, but you take the two packs of sugar anyway. you put him to work immediately.

usually, he finds the process of cooking much to tedious and drawn out. with you, he doesn’t mind.

you seem a bit more satisfied this time, and xiao finds himself ashamed of having made a few more of his specialty dish instead of only regular almond tofu like you’d wanted him to.

while you seem a bit happier now, he still finds himself in front of inazuma’s goods store. again, you buy all the milk. you talk to the restaurant owner up the stairs afterwards. some confusion creeps into him through you, but it doesn’t last long.

he’s in sumeru next. more milk makes its way into your inventory, and you visit the local tavern for good measure, though this time you don’t buy anything at all.

exiting the building, you seem to notice there’s a stove just outside of it and walk over in excitement… and straight into the clay oven.

a sharp pang of panic shoots through him and he jerks backwards. it takes him a second to realise it’s your panic.

immediately, you pull the astrologer from mondstadt out and have her set down her little hydro puppet. you then walk him through it, which does absolutely nothing except soak his clothes.

your panic doesn’t subside.

i’m sorry.

he blinks and finds himself in front of dihua marsh’s statue of the seven, the fire and the tinge it brought with it disappearing in seconds.

it’s rare to be able to make out what you’re actually saying as opposed to just feeling your vague emotions and intentions. are you that worried about him not performing up to standard with this little damage?

he’s yours to use. a little singe like that would never hold him back.

you don’t bother with fontaine.

something like shame curls up his body and makes a home near his ears.

soon after, he’s back at the inn’s kitchen again. yanxiao doesn’t even look in his direction this time as he gets back to work under your guidance, making even more almond tofu. he makes sure to take greater care to avoid displeasing you again.

your mood doesn’t pick up this time, but you seem to have calmed down a little. he’s not sure why (or what use you could possibly have for so much almond tofu), but it’s a small comfort.

part of him wishes he could be there with you properly to comfort you, but he knows better.

he might be your formidable weapon, but that’s all he is. he has no false illusions about his role or purpose to you, no matter how much he wishes he could be the one you turn to for comfort. he isn’t suited to something so delicate. he’s accepted that a long time ago.

your dejection doesn’t retract, even as you move him around a bit more.

then you sit him down at a table at the inn’s terrace and pull out a plate of his specialty.

your presence lingers for a bit, envelops him like a gentle dream, then falls through the cracks of his existence and disappears.

happy birthday, xiao.

he wonders if he deserves this much effort from you for something as inconsequential as his birthday.

probably not.

he hopes he’ll dream of this next.

[iskender-x]

late night quiz shows

[vaguelyaperson]

as much as i understand shigaraki's death, narratively speaking, i'm also so goddamn tired of society needing martyrs.

what made me fall in love with shigaraki is that he's an excellent villain. all his character development built towards him becoming a more competent, driven, effective villain. he became an incredible symbol of fear just as deku became an incredible symbol of peace. this is who he was, in entirety. there is nothing else shigaraki could be.

when shigaraki told izuku, in his final moments, to pass on the message to spinner that "shigaraki fought to destroy until the very end," it really emphasized how it would have dishonored him to be vegeta'd, as it were.

shigaraki made it his mission to tear down hero society. this was his noble mission. this is what made him a hero to the league of villains. because he saw the systemic evils, he saw the evils that hurt his friends, and sought to destroy it all.

there's something to be said about trying to change someone who doesn't want to change, but for shigaraki, it was more than just trying to rehabilitate him from mass murdering. because to him, and the league of villains, what he was doing WAS the right thing. to tell shigaraki not to destroy would be akin to telling deku not to save. "you may not understand, but that's what makes me the villain."

there was a binary choice here: either he'd be left free to complete his mission and destroy everything, or he'd be stopped, permanently.

Izuku, by reaching tenko's heart, but ultimately stopping shigaraki, was choosing the only third option he had: declaring that he would not let all of society be destroyed, but not without promising that he'd do everything he can to reform it here on out.

shigaraki destroys. deku saves.

that's it. that's the bnha narrative in its most basic foundation. horikoshi did not fail to tell that story.

I think what ultimately fucking sucks about this ending is that it's too realistic. society often DOES need a martyr - or often martyrs - to realize that they fucked up, that they let an evil persist too long. they need a shocking enough tragedy to point to and swear they'll never let it happen again. society needs to be rocked to its very core before people can be motivated to get their heads out of their asses and work together towards reforms.

and that in itself is an evil, that people can't see how much harm they're causing or condoning without some horrific tragedy.

i think we're all mad at horikoshi for failing to follow through on the story because we didn't WANT the realistic ending. we wanted the hopeful one. the against all odds one. we didn't want another story about society using the image of martyrs to get its shit together. because we already know that story. and we're so so so tired of it.

especially when we know it only leads to a temporary peace.

because people forget. they put in enough reforms to feel good, and then get comfortable and ignorant again. when does that cycle end? when can we finally notice the evil in time to PREVENT it? so that everyone, 'heroes and villains,' get a happy ending?

I think our anger with the bnha ending is good. we want different - not just in fiction, but in real life. we're willing to hope for different. we should hold onto hope and fight for different.

[cherrysodabear]

🐇'No more games..'🐇

[datshitrandom]

Darren Criss and Helen J. Shen pose at a photo call for the new musical "Maybe Happy Ending" at The Tempo by Hilton New York Times Square Lounge | September 16, 2024 | 📸 by Bruce Glikas

[gather-ye-fucking-rosebuds]

”You killed your father?” Although Todd knew he had said it, the words sounded like they came from down a long, empty hallway.

Neil flinched. “I don’t…I don’t know what came over me—I just had the gun, then I—”

“You shot him?” Todd hissed.

“Well, what else?” Neil snapped, tears filling his eyes again. “Does it even matter? I killed him. My father is dead because of me. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.” He swallowed and stood up, beginning to pace the floor.

Todd’s mouth was dry, his face pale. “Wh-where’s your mom throughout all this?”

Neil stopped walking. “Mom,” he breathed. “She…she said…” He started swaying.

“Woah, Neil,” Todd said, standing up and helping him sit on the edge of the bed. “What did she say?”

Neil looked at Todd. His face was ghostly white. “I have to go back,” he breathed. “She can’t take the heat for this.”

“She’s gonna take the blame?” Todd clarified. It was more of a statement than a question.

Neil nodded, then shook his head. His voice sounded weak. “No, no, no, I-I can’t let her. It’ll ruin her life. I can’t do that to her.” He started to get up.

“Neil, sit down,” Todd said gently, putting his hands on Neil’s shoulders. Todd didn’t know what to do. Neil obviously didn’t either. “So… so you killed your father.”

Neil flinched, but Todd didn’t notice.

“You shot him. But your mom is going to say that it was her.”

“Yeah,” Neil choked, staring at his red covered hands. He looked so hopeless, like he genuinely regretted what he did, and Todd’s mind flashed back to earlier that night, when he had stated in front of all the other poets that if he ever saw Mr Perry again he’d kill him. What if that had been the exact moment Neil had shot him? What a crazy twist of fate that would be.

A tear streaked down Neil’s cheek. He was terrified. Terrified of his father, of his future, but, most of all, of himself. Todd never would have believed his saintly roommate could ever kill someone, but Neil himself probably believed that too. That he could never actively take the life of another human being, especially his own father. Neil was terrified. So Todd needed to be brave.

“Hang tight,” Todd whispered, bustling over to his desk. He opened the bottom drawer and rummaged around until he found what he was looking for: a small jar full of cash. He dumped it out on his desk and started counting it out. $59.80. Todd chuckled at the irony.

“What are you doing?” Neil asked as Todd got his coat out of the closet and shoved the money in the inner pocket.

Todd grabbed his sweater and tucked it under his arm. “We’re leaving.”

“Leaving,” Neil repeated, still confused.

“Yeah. Leaving. Running away. Getting the hell out of here before the cops realize that your mom didn’t actually kill your dad. Because they will eventually.”

“But…but where…”

“My grandparents have a lake house not too far from here that they never use. We can camp out there until we think of a better plan.” Neil swallowed hard again, looking back at his hands. Todd grabbed them, getting blood on his hands, too. “Come on,” he whispered.

Neil looked into Todd’s eyes, and a slight smile pulled at Neil’s lips. “Alright,” he said, standing up. “Let’s go.”

[starflungwaddledee]

offering three cookies 🍪🍪🍪

(<< part 1)

[toreii]

“A man cannot become a hero until he can see the root of his own downfall.”

Bi-Han | MK1 Khaos Reigns trailer

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Devastated doesn't even cover it.

I'm never trusting a cishet writer of queer people again.

For someone who had given up on being happy, of being whole. For someone who only existed for someone else because there was no reason to be alive (I certainly wasn't worth anything beyond the service I could render to others), Izzy Hands gave me hope that it was never too late to be your true self.

He found love, acceptance, and he was beginning to take those tentative few steps towards being whole. He didn't need Ed. He was worth something all on his own.

And they killed him.

They killed the old, disabled queer who had lived a hard, lonely life where his only purpose was to be someone's loyal attack dog, and was finally finding happiness, a family.

"It's about belonging."

"This is a story about queer love, about queer joy."

But not if you're old, disabled, battling with the scars the world has left on you, had to do things to survive. The best you can hope for is to apologise to your abuser and then find peace in death.

Queer joy is only for the right kind of queer.

[huntingrays]

valgrace prompt:

jason is very bad at remembering dates. he knows important dates, but tends to forget what the current date is. you could tell him, in the middle of winter, that his birthday is soon and he would believe you for a second.

leo is very similar, but he tends to remember what holidays and birthdays are coming up. he could forget what day of the week is on but knows how close an important date is.

one day, jason decides to finally stop his pining and confess his feelings for leo. piper kept telling him that the worse thing that could happen was that leo says no. piper was wrong since leo didn’t say no but ended up getting very upset with jason. jason was confused as to why until leo told him that he knew it was april first but he expected jason not to pull such a cruel prank. jason panicked and tried to assure leo that it wasn’t a prank, that he didn’t even know it was april fool’s day, but leo was hearing none of it, not wanting to get tricked.

jason waits until the day after to confess his feelings yet again. leo is flustered, both by the confession and that he thought the first confession was a prank but also upset that jason unknowingly chose april 1st to confess. jason makes a mental note to keep track of when the first of april is around, so he doesn’t end up upsetting any of his other friends

[nights-at-crystarium]

So uh. Just caught up with the recent tumblr news. Shit's still not confirmed, but if you're moving to bsky, here's mine. For the record, other major platforms already train ai on posts, I wouldn't trust bsky not to join the fun eventually. Personally I think nowhere's safe anymore, it's exactly as depressing as it sounds. I'll keep being active here until the hellsite really goes down in flames.

[blahblahbih]

Imola recap

Me the entire race

Me the last 4 laps

That’s it thank you

We got yoints

No one got buried in the gravel

Nextttt