#heart beat 1.0

[tinytinyblogs]

Do it again, and things will get ugly.

Yandere skz not pleased with your little habit—make sure you understand that.

Hyung line, Maknae line

Stray Kids Masterlist 1.0 & 2.0

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Han

You’re completely immersed in your book, the world around you fading as you turn the pages. Reading is your favorite escape, a quiet comfort that brings you peace. But just as you’re sinking deeper into the story, a hand suddenly snatches the book out of your grasp. You blink, startled, realizing that Han is standing in front of you. Without warning, he hurls the book across the room with a force that sends it crashing against the wall, the loud thud jolting you out of your peaceful reverie. The book lands on the floor, pages crumpled, and for a moment, you’re too stunned to speak. “Have you even noticed I’ve been here this whole time?” His voice cuts through the silence, filled with a sharp edge of anger that makes your heart skip a beat. “Are those stupid words more interesting to you than me?” There’s frustration in his tone, but there’s something else too—a raw vulnerability, as if he’s trying to mask his own insecurities with anger. You look up at him, seeing the mixture of hurt and irritation in his eyes. It’s more than just frustration; it’s a deep-seated insecurity that rears its head every time you lose yourself in your hobbies.

He hates the way your books seem to draw you away, making him feel like an outsider, as if he’s competing with words on a page for your attention. And no matter how much he tries to ignore it, it eats at him, making him question how much you truly care. He lets out a harsh breath, running a hand through his hair as if trying to steady himself. “Do you even care that I’m here?” he demands, his voice breaking slightly. “Or am I just supposed to sit around, watching you get lost in your own world, feeling like I don’t even exist to you?” His words hang in the air, heavy and filled with an ache he can’t fully hide. You open your mouth to respond, but he continues, the frustration spilling over. “Maybe I should just burn all those books—would that finally get your attention? Make you look at me, instead of always burying yourself in them?” There’s a desperation in his voice now, a vulnerability that’s almost painful to witness, as if he’s baring a part of himself he doesn’t want you to see. For him, it’s not just about the books or your hobbies—it’s about the fear that maybe he’s not enough to hold your attention, that he’ll never mean as much to you as those stories do.

And as he stands there, waiting for you to say something, you can see how much this truly bothers him, how much he longs for reassurance that he’s not invisible to you. "If you want to keep those books, you'd better not get too lost in them," he says, his voice low and firm, each word measured and carrying an unmistakable warning. He steps closer, his gaze never leaving yours, trapping you between his arms as he braces himself on either side of you. The intensity in his eyes pins you in place, leaving you feeling cornered, as if there’s nowhere to escape his scrutiny. "I don’t like it when you ignore me," he continues, his tone tinged with a simmering frustration. His eyes are dark and unwavering, searching yours as if demanding an answer, needing to know that you understand what he’s saying. There’s a raw, almost possessive edge in his voice, a silent insistence that you remember he’s here—that he’s the one who should have your attention. He leans in slightly, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath, his presence consuming the space between you. “Make sure you’ve got that in your mind,” he says, his voice soft yet laced with a hint of a warning, as if he’s daring you to look away or challenge him.

Felix

Felix’s grip on his glass tightens so much that his knuckles turn a stark white against the dark wood of the bar. He watches you, his gaze unwavering, stormy, his jaw set hard as if biting back words he doesn't want to say. Every so often, he brings his drink to his lips, taking a slow, controlled sip, but his eyes never leave you. His attention is riveted on you, locked onto the way you throw your head back with laughter, the way you lean in, smiling, as you engage with the people around you. He’s watching every detail, every casual brush of your hand, every animated gesture, every sparkling smile you offer to those sitting beside you. The laughter surrounding you fills the space like a bright, airy melody, but in Felix’s mind, it’s a sound that grates on his nerves, reminding him of something he hates to admit, something he can’t help but resent. He watches you throw yourself into every conversation with that effortless charm of yours, capturing everyone’s attention without even trying. It's something he’s never understood about you—the way you seem drawn to the energy and approval of others, the way you seem to thrive under their gaze.

And you do it all so naturally, like it’s second nature to you, as if it’s simply who you are. But the thought gnaws at him, unsettling him in a way he can’t control. Why do you care so much about what they think? He wonders why his own presence, his own attention, doesn’t seem to be enough for you. Isn’t that all you need? He’s always been there, always the one standing closest to you, watching you, knowing all the little things that make you laugh, the ways your eyes light up, the little gestures you make when you’re deep in conversation. But as much as he knows you, as much as he feels connected to you, this part of you—the part that shines for everyone—remains just beyond his grasp. As soon as the two of you were alone, he grabbed your arm and dragged you back to his place, his grip firm and unrelenting. The door slammed shut behind you, echoing through the room and leaving a tension that was thick and unsettling. His sudden change in demeanor left you feeling uneasy, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach. He fixed you with a cold, penetrating stare, his gaze so intense it felt like it was stripping away every layer of defense you had.

"Is it fun getting their attention?" he asked, his voice low and laced with a quiet rage that made his words all the more frightening. The question hung in the air, his deep voice dripping with accusation, making it feel like he could shatter you with just a look. "Is it fun to bask in anyone else's attention but mine? Because from where I’m standing," he continued, his eyes never leaving yours, "it doesn’t look like there’s anything ‘good’ in you having me but acting like you’re so starved for attention that you have to seek it from anyone else, like some lonely soul without a lover." He took a few slow, deliberate steps toward you, each one calculated, closing the distance between you as his towering frame loomed over you. The intensity in his eyes didn’t waver, and you could feel the weight of his words pressing down on you, making it hard to breathe. "This is my warning," he murmured, his voice chilling and measured. "Consider yourself lucky. If I find out you pull something like that again, I’ll make sure you never have the chance to grab anyone’s attention. Ever again." The promise was dark and unmistakable, sending a shiver through you as his gaze held you firmly in place, every word he said echoing in your mind.

Seungmin

It felt profoundly unfair to Seungmin when you didn’t show any gratitude for all the effort he poured into everything he did for you. Every small gesture, every thoughtful act, meant the world to him, yet your indifference stung deeply. He couldn't shake off the frustration that churned within him, particularly when he sensed your ignorance of all his hard work. As you simply nodded at the dessert he had painstakingly learned to make once he discovered it was your favorite, he felt a flicker of anger ignite inside him. The spoon he held felt like a fragile thing in his grip, and he squeezed it tightly, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to contain his emotions. Moments later, unable to bear it any longer, he slammed the spoon onto the table with a sharp clatter that broke the silence, the sound reverberating in the air like a sudden thunderclap. He stood up abruptly, the movement sending a ripple of shock through the room, and began to circle the dining table, his frustration palpable with each stride he took toward you.

He stopped directly in front of you, his expression a mix of hurt and exasperation. “Do you even realize how much I put into this?” he demanded, his voice low but charged with emotion. “I wanted to do something special for you, and all you can do is nod?” The tension between you crackled, and he could feel his heart racing, caught between his desire to express his feelings and the hurt that came from your apparent indifference. His hand trembled with barely contained anger as he faced you, the tension in the air thickening with each passing moment. “All the things I do for you...” he began, his voice strained, carrying the weight of his frustration. He stopped for a moment, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath, trying to rein in the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to spill over. He needed to calm himself, to gather his thoughts before he let his anger get the best of him. “All the things!” he continued, his voice rising slightly as he struggled to keep his composure. “Can’t you at least say a damn thank you?” The plea hung in the air, echoing with a mix of desperation and hurt.

He looked at you, searching for any sign of acknowledgment, any hint that you recognized the effort he poured into every small gesture, every thoughtful act he had done for you. "Eat this. Now." Seungmin’s voice was low but laced with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. His eyes held a stern, unyielding gaze, the kind that left no room for argument. He leaned in closer, his tone taking on a dangerous edge as he spoke, "And from now on, you’re going to be more aware, more grateful for every single damn thing I do for you. Understand?" He held out the spoon firmly, his grip tightening as if daring you to defy him. The way he looked at you made it clear that he expected nothing less than compliance. His expression was a mixture of frustration and something else, something deeper, that sent a chill down your spine. "You wouldn’t want to see me mad again, would you?" he added, his voice dropping to a quiet but potent warning. The threat lingered in the air, a reminder of the weight his anger carried, and his gaze bore into you, making it clear that he expected you to listen.

Jeongin

He gets visibly frustrated whenever he sees you stumble or drop something, his eyes always drawn to your every clumsy move, each one stirring his concern. Ironically, he’s just as prone to accidents himself; he knows firsthand how easy it is to get hurt in a split second. Perhaps that’s exactly why his frustration with you grows—it’s not just annoyance but genuine worry because he knows just how much a small misstep can lead to something serious, as he's experienced so many times himself. To keep you safe, he’s become hyper-vigilant, watching over you more closely than you might like. He practically has eyes in the back of his head, always noticing when you’re about to trip or reach for something potentially hazardous. Sometimes, his protectiveness feels almost smothering; he keeps such a close watch that you feel he’s always in the room with you, guiding your every movement, as if trying to control every factor around you. Even when he’s not physically present, you’ll receive a flurry of messages, checking in on what you’re doing and reminding you to be cautious.

Just as your fingers hover over the knife handle, his hand darts out, intercepting you with a firm grasp. “How many times have I told you not to cook by yourself?” he says sharply, his tone tinged with impatience and a protectiveness that feels like it’s crossed the line into control. His gaze is unwavering, locked onto you with an intensity that leaves no room for argument. You let out a sigh, a flicker of frustration and defiance slipping into your voice as you answer, “But I want to. I can handle it. I’m not as helpless as you think.” His expression doesn’t soften for a moment. If anything, your words only seem to harden his resolve. “Just because you want to,” he begins, his voice a low, steady warning, “you think that means I’m going to stand by and let you mess with something that could hurt you?” His eyes flash with an almost parental authority, a refusal to back down. “That’s not how this works.” With a purposeful motion, he nudges the knife away from your reach with the toe of his shoe, making his stance clear.

“If I say no, it’s no,” he states firmly, his voice carrying an edge that’s impossible to ignore. He grips your wrist with a sudden, unyielding force, his fingers pressing into your skin hard enough to make you wince. The pressure is intense, almost as if he wants to leave a lasting mark, a reminder of his control. His gaze is sharp, locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your stomach churn. “Understand?” he asks, his voice low and clipped, each word carrying a weight that makes his intentions unmistakably clear. “You’re going to do exactly what I tell you,” he continues, his voice tightening. “If I ever catch you doing something I told you not to…” He pauses, allowing the silence to hang between you, thick and charged. His eyes hold yours, unblinking, dark with a fierce resolve that sends a chill down your spine. “I’ll make sure you learn to obey me.” The words linger in the air, a promise and a threat, making it clear that he won’t tolerate any disobedience. His grip remains firm, unyielding, almost daring you to defy him as he lets the message settle in, making sure you know exactly what he expects from you.

[emanation-aura]

So we've got Meetings in the Outrealm: Series V (for those of you who've forgotten, it's the "beat a boss in co-op" set of the achievements) now, and I think it's a good time to look back on the five Outrealm achievement namecards we've got and their connections to lore.

(Long post warning. Go grab a snack and some water, like I forgot to do when writing this post)

Achievement: Reunion - We shall meet again someday.

Released in Version 1.0. Pointedly, predates Chapter I Act IV: We Will Be Reunited (Version 1.4), but carries the exact same theming— the Traveler twins will meet again.

So we'll meet again. Though we need not rush, (brother/sister). I have more than enough time to wait for you.

It's my belief that, from this point forward, all the "Meetings of the Outrealm" achievements foreshadow, or at least echo, the themes of the Traveler Archon Quests, as well as other relevant Traveler lore we learn.

2. Achievement: Gate - What encounters lie on the other side of this door?

Admittedly, this one immediately breaks my presumption because it bears very little resemblance to anything I can remember of Chapter II Act IV: Requiem of Echoing Depths. The door depicted in the namecard (released Version 2.0) is obviously the loading screen door, which is located in the same sky-heaven area (suspected to be Celestia but we're not sure) in which the twins encountered the Sustainer of Heavenly Principles by trying to leave Teyvat.

There is one crucial difference between the two depictions, which is the four-pointed star/primogem present on top of the door in the namecard. It's not present on the loading screen (I know the screenshot above is night-time which makes it hard to see, but I'm pretty sure the symbol is different). The symbol is obviously so well-known and thematic everywhere in Genshin that I'm not surprised it's here; notably instances of its use, apart from in primogems and Khaenri'ahn eyes/neck, includes: the "eye" in the Traveler's original wings, the logo of WWBR (representing each twin) and on the front of Lumine's dress/back of Aether's cape.

The fact that the same symbol now hangs over the door that brings us into the world of Teyvat raises several questions and possible ideas that aren't within the scope of what I want to say. In this context where the Outrealm achievements are very clearly Traveler lore-themed, I'll just suggest that the door to Teyvat with the four-pointed star represents that the purpose of our journey, at least in Teyvat initially, is to search for our sibling (this becomes less relevant later on, but is still generally true).

Also, Rudolf Koch's Book of Signs suggests that the four-pointed star "is a phenomenon carrying a grave and solemn warning", so there's also a more sinister outlook to the door in the namecard.

I think the link with Requiem of Echoing Depths might be loosely based on "encounters on the other side of the door" theme. Dainsleif emerges from a portal (a more metaphysical 'door') at the beginning of the quest, just as our twin disappeared into one at the end of WWBR. The door is a symbol and gateway of both the unattainability of our twin, and the regular encounters we have on our journey in Teyvat.

And, if you want to stretch it a bit further into the future, the door to Khaenri'ah in Hangeh Afrasiyab, released in Version 3.6, carries on this theme of doorways and encounters— you cannot enter it at the moment of writing, but the existence of such a door is a reminder of Khaenri'ah. What sort of encounters did your sibling have behind this door, in the kingdom underneath the ground? You don't know, and that's part of the mystery that separates the two of you, and why in Requiem, you two share such differing beliefs on why or why not the purification device should be activated.

---

3. Achievement: Fated Encounter - One day, our encounter at this moment shall shine like a star of reminiscence in our hearts.

4. Achievement: Orbits - "O Almighty Sovereign, the Universitas Magistrorum has provided the predictions you requested: The two stars have been captured by the world's gravity… After a lengthy orbital period, today their paths shall intertwine once more."

I'm putting these two together (released in Version 3.0 and 4.0 respectively) because I think the corresponding Traveler acts, Caribert (Version 3.5) and Bedtime Story (Version 4.7), correlate inversely with the release dates of these namecards.

For example, Orbits and 3.X lore:

In Version 3.3's Archon Quest Interlude Inversion of Genesis, we indirectly hear the words of Pierro (a Khaenri'ahn) on the topic of our sibling, retold to us through Scaramouche.

The reason why there are records about your (‍sister/brother‍) in Irminsul… It might have something to do with Khaenri'ah. Apparently, Khaenri'ah was (‍her/his‍) first destination when (‍she/he‍) arrived in this world. Plus, (‍she/he‍) only came to this world because the heavens responded to the summoning.

Later on in Caribert, Chlothar Alberich, Khaenri'ahn and founder of the Abyss Order, tells us:

We once believed that you [the Traveler's sibling] would bring new strength and hope to Khaenri'ah. To us, you were the Abyss... A wondrous mystery far beyond our imagination and comprehension...

Setting aside debates on what the Abyss actually is, all of the above dovetails with Achievement: Orbits, which clearly depicts two primo-stars representing the twins in 'orbit', and the Khaenri'ahn organisation Universitas Magistrorum talking about them, suggesting they are somehow scrying the fates of the two who have been 'captured by the world's gravity'. Given that it is all but directly stated that Khaenri'ah summoned the twins (or, perhaps, just the sibling depending on how you look at it), the namecard is basically the Khaenri'ahn perspective of everything we learn in Version 3.X.

Perinheri (a book released in 4.5) also tells us that Khaenri'ah awaited the arrival of beings who could transcend the gods, and this dovetails nicely with Orbits and Chlothar's statement to support the hypothesis that the twins were summoned, or at least, scried on and waited for. The implication that the 'Almighty Sovereign' (explicitly, a royal, likely the king, in CN) requested this scrying almost confirms it.

While the text obviously means that this hypothetical comment must have been made when Khaenri'ah still, well, existed, it also thematically resonates with all quests where the Traveler does reunite with their sibling in some form, most prominently in WWBR, but also Requiem of Echoing Depths (via mirage), Caribert (via memory and shattered mirror), and Bedtime Story (via Caribert's realm, and subsequently forgotten).

---

Meanwhile, Achievement: Fated Encounter ironically suits the themes of Version 4.X Traveler lore better.

Let's get the big one out of the way first. Chapter IV Act VI: Bedtime Story is a cruel, cruel subversion of the namecard's theme— because no. Your reunion will not shine like a star of reminiscence in your heart. You will not remember it at all. Narratively, I find it neat that 13 versions after Rukkhadevata's wiping from Irminsul, the audience is now thrust into the same position as the Traveler: as the only one who 'remembers'. As the witness to something wiped from history. (Can you tell this makes me emotional?) As an audience member, this moment is for you, you will remember it, and nobody else. Even the phrasing of "one day..." suggests that only at some nebulous point in the future will this reunion become remembered.

Hell, the namecard is two hands hovering over a four-pointed star. Given the symbolism of the primo-star as representative of both "your twin" and "warnings of an encounter" (roughly), it is basically a perfect set-up for Bedtime Story; not withstanding that the symbolism also suits the events of Caribert, where we're jumpscared with our twin in a shattered mirror, suiting the portend of an omen (the first and last quests in Caribert are named Destined Encounter and Portended Fate, neatly tying this together as well).

Of course, Fated Encounter's text harkens back to WWBR itself, as both the 'fated encounter' and becoming the moment upon which we reminisce.

The reason I think it fits better with 4.X Traveler content is because of where else we get moments of reminiscence of the Traveler and their twin: notably, in Wriothesley's SQ, Reborn in the Land of Grievances, and Xianyun's SQ, A Thousand Moonlit Miles.

For context, recall that Wriothesley's SQ is about a 'fear gem', which the villain is using to control a society of people to do his bidding by injecting them with liquid fear. Traveler and Wriothesley pick up the gem containing this liquid at the beginning of this quest, and touching it causes unpleasant flashbacks of, essentially, moments that create fear. For the Traveler, these four images are shown when they touch the gem:

Top left is vs Sustainer from the opening of the game when their twin is taken away. Top right is from Caribert, where Traveler realises they have been experiencing a memory from the perspective of their twin. Bottom two are images from the Defiled Statue room in WWBR, including the dead Grand Thief.

It is almost self-explanatory why these are a record of moments when Traveler felt 'fear'. I think this works particularly well as a thematic reflection of Achievement: Fated Encounter because this is a negative-context reminiscence of said 'fated encounters'. Here, Traveler is recalling these moments with a very strong negative association due to fear.

Compare and contrast with Grus Serena Act I's ending cutscene, where due to Xianyun's 'positive dream' Suspensus Somnium Mechanism, we get this lovely scene with the Traveler dreaming of reuniting with their twin:

Now, this is explicitly a dream, which isn't real and hasn't happened. I would argue, however, that regardless of whether this is real, this is the second important Traveler scene in Version 4.X before the release of Bedtime Story, serving to both set the emotional stakes, and as the positive counterpoint to the theme of reminiscence touched on in Wriothesley's Story Quest.

Thematically, this is the other side of the 'star of reminiscence' in Achievement: Fated Encounters. While the scene in Xianyun's SQ is a bittersweet dream, ending up with the Traveler waking up in tears and thus is not a straightforward positive happiness, this melancholic nostalgia for a more innocent existence in Grus Serena Act I still contrasts with the sharp burst of fear we're served with the images of our past experiences Cerberus Act I. They are two sides of the same coin and a reflection of the conflicting myriad of feelings the Traveler has about their twin— longing, heartbreak, fear, confusion— exploring what the memory of their twin means to them. Shine like a star of reminiscence in our hearts much?

Also, you encounter the gem of negative reminiscence at the beginning of Wriothesley's SQ, and the dream of positive reminiscence at the end of Xianyun's SQ. You could possibly stretch this to reflect the journey as a whole— which begins with fear, loss, and confusion, and ends with bittersweet happiness. Wait, shit, does that mean one of the twins is going to die—

Essentially, it's all about memory. Which also echoes Bedtime Story and how Caribert attempts to connect with others, however briefly, through his incomplete Loom of Fate, trying to 'live' like a real person even though he cannot exist as anything but a memory in people's minds— I would make a slight tie with Nara Varuna (the twin, as referred to by the Aranara), but I'm running out of short-term memory storage to load Aranyaka lore, so I'll try again later.

(Cheekily, the four-pointed star in Achievement: Fated Encounter is actually part of the co-op mode symbol, which is the star plus radiating waves resembling a WiFi symbol. You could point to this just being an acknowledgement of the fact this namecard is obtained from playing in co-op mode, but apart from what I've discussed, I can add a suitably unhinged suggestion that the co-op mode icon contains lore. It's a modification of a WiFi icon, which popularly depicts a dot as a broadcast origin, and concentric waves surrounding it as the signal broadcasting from it. Simple, but Genshin replaces the dot of broadcast origin with a four-pointed star, ostensibly just representing the game's version of connectivity. And yet, the four-pointed star broadcasting a signal outwards can also use the symbolism of the Traveler/the Twin as the point of origin as a reach for 'connection', both reaching for their sibling, and as a general harkening back to the theme of the Traveler being a 'connector' of people's wills, a la Liyue finale, Inazuma finale, Sumeru finale— wait, I'm sensing a pattern here...)

Of course, let me not forget to mention that Achievement: Orbits is also relevant to Bedtime Story and some of 4.X. That quest is where Dainsleif casually drops the Five Sinners of Khaenri'ah on us, so it ties in with the disembodied quote we get about Khaenri'ah addressing the twins. We also learn about the Universitas Magistrorum from the Narzissenkreuz WQ series beginning from 4.0, where it is stated that they 'inverted the alchemical stages' (likely referring to how, in real life, the alchemical stages of Magnum Opus, the process of creating the philosopher's stone, were Nigredo -> Albedo -> Citrinitas -> Rubedo, whereas from Albedo's ascension voicelines, we know his Art of Khemia, originating from Khaenri'ah, inverts Citrinitas and Rubedo, suggesting that the irl Magnum Opus is actually the lore-accurate method as opposed to what the Art of Khemia says about Rubedo -> Citrinitas. But that's a story for another time). While unrelated to twins lore specifically, the gradual addition of Universitas Magistrorum lore might serve a purpose like the continual drip-feeding of Qiaoying Village pre-4.4, as well as Dornman Port and Blackcliff Forge now, building up to eventual relevancy. For now, there's no way of knowing.

---

...wait, why did I make this post again?

(nervously checks notes) ah right, to dissect the Outrealm achievement series. So, let's look at what we have for 5.0.

While I won't suggest we can predict the plot of the next Traveler Chapter through this namecard alone, we can go through the themes and plot points brought up by this namecard, and see where it gets us.

Obviously we are tying back with Bedtime Story here. That is where we first learn that the "Sea of Flowers at the End" is a real place (and not just Travail's artistic concoction of the finale of the game)— both the title of Achievement: Endpoint and the depiction of Inteyvats reinforces that this is where our journey will end.

You: Why... Why can't we continue our journey together? Sibling: At the end of my journey, I arrived at a place known as "The Sea of Flowers at the End." Do you remember? A long time ago, when we traveled between worlds together... You told me… You wanted to find a place in the universe where that one flower was in full bloom. To have a place like that suddenly appear before me…  Well, would you think of that as a coincidence?

It is all but outright stated the reason our sibling cannot move on from Teyvat and travel with us is (aside from the war with the Heavenly Principles) because Teyvat contains the true endpoint of their journey, not just the journey through the land itself but their journey through the cosmos at large— the Sea of Flowers, which is the location we will reach at the end of the game.

The Sea of Flowers is a field of seemingly-endless Inteyvats and, contrary to my belief before 4.7, an actual physical (or at least metaphysical) location. Achievement: Endpoint says of this place "a sea of blossom awaits the return of a single flower, anticipating the day when both hearts and petals shall become soft and tender".

Breaking this down, we can identify that the return of a single flower should refer to Lumine, regardless of whether she is your Traveler or your twin, since she wears the Inteyvats in her hair. This creates two completely different narratives about the game depending on who you picked, which seems mostly antithetical to how Genshin has written the siblings thus far. (Well, she wears Inteyvats plural on her hair, so the single flower thing shouldn't apply.)

So let's skip that and contextualise the rest. If the Sea of Flowers is waiting for an Inteyvat to 'become soft and tender', then there is a condition we need to fulfill. Recall Dainsleif's words in Requiem of Echoing Depths about the Inteyvat:

But if you were to pluck one and take it out of Khaenri'ah, the petals would stop growing and turn hard. Only when it finally returned to its home soil would the petals grow soft once more, and finally turn to dust... So the Inteyvat is a symbol for a wanderer far from home, signifying the tenderness of the homeland.

The symbolism is incredibly blatant. The Sea of Flowers awaits the day when the return of a single Inteyvat, because only when the flower returns to its homeland will it grow soft.

Here's where we resolve the Lumine problem. The name of this flower is the Inteyvat. Prefix in-, which English borrows from Latinate words, where the prefix was used in a variety of ways but in our case, to mean "not-". Therefore Inteyvat, as in "not-Teyvat", or more fancifully, "not of Teyvatian origin".

If the returning flower is an Inteyvat, it is not actually about who carries the flower, but what the name of the flower represents: "not-Teyvat". Which means it should be your chosen Traveler, regardless of gender, because your twin has become "part of this world" for a reason unknown to us, and no longer counts as an external being, or Descender— we learn as such from Inversion of Genesis.

Nahida: Irminsul does not keep records on the Descenders. Anyone who comes from beyond this world is not counted as part of Teyvat. Scaramouche: The reason why there are records about your (‍sister/brother‍) in Irminsul… It might have something to do with Khaenri'ah. Apparently, Khaenri'ah was (‍her/his‍) first destination when (‍she/he‍) arrived in this world.

Essentially, this is a giant lore teaser for: you're going to the Sea of Flowers at the end, and everyone will be happy again...

Or, not?

Because Endpoint tells us that it awaits the day when both hearts and petals shall grow soft and tender. This is a yearning for the softness and happiness of reuniting without anything standing in the siblings' way, except... Dainsleif explicitly tells us that after the flower returns, it doesn't just go soft— it turns to dust.

This is why, earlier, I suggested that theory about the emotional overtones of our journey, as derived from Wriothesley and Xianyun's SQs. Without the supporting evidence of the Inteyvat's dissolution implied at the end, it's just crack; but now, I think it's going to compose the bittersweetness of the reunion or ending we're promised, like Xianyun's SQ depicts.

(I want to be clear that this isn't a prediction of Traveler or twin dying. While it certainly isn't outside the realm of possibility, I wouldn't lock in the Inteyvat dissolution symbolism into that event alone; it's also possible, for instance, that one or both of them lose their memories, etc, or they lose something else dear to them. We can't even be sure the story will end on such a note anyway, so this is purely extrapolation on extremely limited connections.)

As a mini-prediction: we could either get more Sea of Flowers lore in Natlan's Traveler Chapter (unlikely, doesn't seem Hoyo's style to follow-up so soon, we still don't understand the Defiled Statue etc.), or we could follow the emotional beats implied by the namecard description. Or, like Achievement: Gates and Requiem, it could have loose or no connections at all.

This post is mostly an excuse for me to talk about my favourite lore in the game. I'm going to bed

[bloatedandalone04]

Wrapped Around Your Finger - Part 1.0

Series Masterlist | Original Fic

➪in which the guilt of what he did weighs down on anakin, and you begin to realize that you may have rushed into things in regards to your program.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 6.3k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | THANK YOU FOR 4.2K FOLLOWERS

Anakin’s head was spinning and screaming at him to run as far as he could, but his legs felt numb and his body was burning up. “Get away,” he begged again, leaning against the wall for support as he tried to blink away the tears from his eyes. 

Liz tried to place her hand on his arm again. “Anakin-”

“Get the fuck away from me,” he yelled and stumbled his way back through the crowd. Sweat had formed on every part of his body as he tried to find his way to the exit. Everything around him looked blurry and every graze of another body against his own had his heart skipping a beat. 

What the fuck did he just do?

He was hyperventilating as a hand wrapped around his wrist, and he looked back to find Liz staring up at him. “Anakin, you need to sit down,”

“Don’t touch me,” he pushed her hand away. “You ruined everything. You-” He couldn’t finish the sentence as he felt the bile rush up his throat again. He barely made it to the nearest trash bin before he was emptying his stomach of all the drinks he had consumed. 

He had no idea if it was because of how quickly he had sobered up or from the drug itself, but Anakin felt like the definition of death as he moved past the crowd and finally located the door.

Liz was no longer following him as he stumbled his way down the unfamiliar street, his hand feeling around in his pocket for his phone as he did so. The fresh air was helping him breathe a bit better and he no longer felt like he was having a panic attack as he clicked on your contact. 

It was two in the morning, so when he was met with your voicemail, he wasn’t all that surprised. Still, to hear your actual sweet voice ask him to leave you a message, he broke down crying right there in the middle of the street. 

How could he mistake Liz’s voice for yours? Why couldn’t he feel the difference in the way she was touching him? Kissing him?

How could he do this to you? After everything you’ve done for him, he just did one of the most unforgivable things a guy can do in a relationship. 

He hung up before he could leave you a drunk message and was somehow able to make it back to the bus. When he stumbled onto it and headed right for the bathroom, he was disgusted with the sight of himself. 

His jacket was half off his shoulders, his white tee was stained in some places with red lipstick, and when he lifted it up he was met with more lipstick marks all over his abs and torso. 

Anakin threw his jacket onto the floor and stepped inside the shower, still fully clothed, and let the cold water cool down his overheating body. His shirt and jeans stuck to his skin, and the white material turned see-through from the water, making the lipstick marks on his abs visible through the fabric.  

He tore off the shirt and threw it into the corner of the small shower, planning on throwing it out completely afterwards. He braced his forearms against the tiled wall and tried to control his breathing before he had a panic attack. 

What had he done?

How did he let things get that bad?

Why did he let it go that far? 

Anakin felt sick again as he rubbed at the red marks scattered all over his chest. He scrubbed his skin until it was raw and sore, but even then he still felt disgusted with himself. 

Not only was he a total fucking prick to you over the phone, he fucking cheated on you a mere few hours later. 

That pill he had must have been the highest dosage since it went right through him. He was sure the drink and a half he had right after didn’t help either, and now he was turning off the shower and stumbling his way back through the bus and practically throwing himself out the door. 

He threw up the rest of what was in his stomach into a trashcan near the bus stop, and when he had nothing left in him, he slumped against the side of the bus and let the cold air create goosebumps on his wet skin. 

Water dripped from his hair and rolled down his body as he let out uneven breaths. Anakin slid down the bus and landed on the harsh gravel with a thud, and it probably would’ve hurt if he wasn’t running on fear and adrenaline right now. 

He knew he must’ve accidentally made a fair bit of noise with his loud entrance and exit from the bus, so he wasn’t entirely surprised to hear the sound of the door opening somewhere off to his left a few seconds later. 

He was still crying silently as he heard Vinny call out to him. “Anakin,” he said, surprise evident in his voice as he crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you doing out here, man? What’s going on?” 

Anakin didn’t say anything as he stared forward. It was still dark and he couldn’t make out any of his surroundings, and he wished he never took that fucking pill, because now he felt worse than he ever did before. 

“Anakin,” Vinny called again and walked over to the shaking brunet. When he saw the tears that were rolling down his face and the terrified look in his eyes, he dropped to his knees next to him. “What’s going on, huh? What’s wrong?” 

“She…she’ll never-” Anakin couldn’t finish the sentence as he shivered against the bus. Vinny’s eyes narrowed in concern as he pushed the damp hair away from Anakin’s forehead. 

“What are you talking about, Anakin?” He asked and got no response. Vinny tightly gripped his friend’s jaw and turned his face so he could look him in the eyes as he said, “Hey. What happened?” 

Anakin’s mouth was quivering and his whole body was shaking as he stared up at Vinny. “She’ll never forgive me,” he finally was able to get out. “She’s going to hate me- she already hates me.”

Vinny furrowed his brow, “Who? Y/n?” The name had Anakin squeezing his eyes shut tightly. “Listen, man, whatever you did, I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think. And she definitely doesn’t hate you.”

Anakin gripped Vinny’s arm tightly. “I fucked up, Vin,” he repeated the very words you said to him when you needed him to reassure you all those hours ago. Like he was fucking supposed to. 

Vinny’s tired gaze softened. “What do you mean?” He asked, but Anakin just shook his head and let out a strangled sob as he crashed completely from the high. “Okay, okay, Anakin. It’s okay.”

He was sure Vinny could tell that he had taken something, and he knew his bandmate was undoubtedly disappointed, but he still provided him with comfort instead of judgment or anger. It only proved that Anakin was the biggest piece of shit in the world and never deserved you since he couldn’t even give you the comfort you needed without lashing out at you. 

“You’re alright,” Vinny mumbled, sitting next to him against the bus and wrapping his arm around Anakin’s cold shoulder, his t-shirt getting damp in the process. He had no idea how long they sat there for, but the love and respect Anakin had for the drummer grew with each passing second. 

Anakin always tried to surround himself with good people, like Vinny, Theo, and you. Why couldn’t he just push Liz away the second she started showing an interest in him? His relationship with you wouldn’t be falling apart had he opened his eyes and turned down her advances instead of allowing them just because he missed you. 

The thought of losing you after this had him pressing his hand against his heart, and he didn’t remember much after that. 

Vinny must’ve hauled him back inside the bus at some point since Anakin woke up in his bunk at nine thirty in the morning. If there was one thing those fucking drugs did, it was allow him to have more than one hour of sleep. He got at least five hours, and that was probably the most he’s gotten in a single night since he started the tour. Since he spent that last night at the hotel with you.

His head was pounding as he pushed himself out of bed and stumbled into the small hallway of the bus. He was still in the jeans he wore to the club last night, and Anakin quickly stripped himself of them and redressed himself in sweats and a black tee before heading towards the bathroom and grabbing the shirt he left in the shower. 

The bus hadn’t started moving yet, so Anakin opened the door and threw both his jeans and shirt into the trashcan by the bus stop. He let the door slam shut after that as he sat down at the small table and called you. It rang about five times before he got your voicemail, and he knew you were probably in class right now. He wanted to cry again when you asked him to leave you a message, but he had no right to cry any more than he did last night. 

“I’m so sorry, princess. I can’t even tell you how fucking awful I feel about the way I treated you,” he also didn’t really have the right to be leaving you a message right now, but he needed you to know that he wasn’t going to be acting like a prick to you, or to anyone, anymore. Not that it mattered. He had already fucked things up beyond repair. “Please, call me back. I love you so much. I always have and I always will. Please.”

He ended the call and threw his phone onto the table just as Vinny came wandering out from his room. “Hey,” he gave Anakin a cautious look as he opened the mini fridge and took out a water bottle. 

Anakin didn’t greet him back, he just leaned further against the chair and looked up at him. “When are we seeing Helena next?” He asked as Vinny raised a brow and placed the water bottle down on the table in front of him. 

“Uh, not until later today at the venue,” Vinny answered as he grabbed the small bottle of aspirin from the cupboard above the fridge. “What did you take last night, man? You were completely out of it when I found you outside.”

Anakin shook his head as Vinny set two pills next to the water bottle. “When are we getting to the venue?”

Vinny furrowed his brows as he sat down across from him. “Maybe by one,” he said, taking the cap off the water and sliding it closer. “What happened, Anakin?”

“I need to talk to Hel-”

“Anakin,” Vinny cut him off and his tone left no room for arguing. With a huff, Anakin took the pills and drank half the bottle of water before pushing it aside. “I’m serious, what did you take?”

Anakin avoided eye contact as he ran his finger along your handwriting on his wrist. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “It was my first time taking drugs.”

Vinny’s expression dropped as he rubbed his hands over his face. “Drugs, Anakin? You took drugs?” 

Anakin slumped further back in the chair as he shrugged. “I should’ve never gone to that club with her,” 

“With who?” Vinny narrowed his eyes. “Liz?”

Anakin cringed at the mention of her name. “I can’t believe I took drugs from her,”

Vinny rubbed at his eyes harshly as he tried to process the information. “You took drugs from Liz at a club?” He asked for confirmation, and when Anakin nodded, Vinny scoffed. “Dude, what the fuck? Are you crazy? Do you know how badly that could’ve ended?” 

“It already ended badly,” he muttered and stood up. “I really need to talk to Helena.”

Vinny grabbed Anakin’s wrist before he could get very far. “Wait,” he said and successfully got him to sit back down. “Are you okay? You were a mess when I was finally able to get your ass back inside the bus at nearly four in the morning.”

Guilt filled Anakin’s body as he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Vin,”

“Don’t be sorry, man, just tell me what happened,” Vinny begged. “You said she’d never forgive you…were you talking about Y/n?”

Anakin’s eyes burned again. “I miss her,” he confessed and watched as Vinny’s gaze softened. “I miss her so much. I fucked up last night, Vinny. I….Liz…” He felt like he couldn’t say it, and he wasn’t sure if he was lucky or not that he didn’t need to when he saw realization take over his friend’s face.

“You didn’t,” he could hear the disbelief in Vinny’s voice as he broke eye contact again. “Anakin, you didn’t. You cheated on her? Did you hook up with Liz?”

“No,” Anakin’s face scrunched up in disgust as he thought back to how Liz had kissed all up his body before reaching his mouth. “She…I don’t know, she fucking kissed me.”

“And you let her?”

“I was high!” He weakly defended his drunk mind’s actions. “I took that fucking pill from her and then she gave me all these drinks and I was out of it after that. I didn’t even realize what was happening before she kissed me and then I became sober right after.”

Vinny opened his mouth, but promptly closed it so he didn’t yell. He had to take a few deep breaths before trying again, and Anakin didn’t blame him. “So Liz forced herself on you?” 

Anakin nodded and grabbed his phone again. “Yeah, and I should’ve never let her get that close in the first place,”

“No kidding,” Vinny muttered and ran his hand through his hair. “You need to talk to Helena.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Anakin mumbled as he looked at his wallpaper. His heart broke at the sight of your smiling face. How could he ever do this to you? You were his sweet girl, the one who’s been by his side through it all. He fucking hated himself. 

“Get to the venue early. Way before soundcheck,” Vinny said. “Tell Helena everything, and I mean everything, Anakin. How Liz has been trying to get with you since the first fucking day, how she invited you out to all these clubs, the drugs, last night, all of it. Alright?” 

Anakin just nodded, giving Vinny a guilty look when he reached over and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

He was sure he scared his poor manager half to death when he walked up to her as she was talking to one of the stage crew members. “You need to fire Liz,” he stated loudly, making her jump and turn to face him.

Helena let out a quiet laugh and placed her hand over her heart. “Anakin,” she greeted him before she processed his words. “What?”

“You need to fire Liz,” he said again, much slower this time. 

She furrowed her brows and looked around before taking his wrist in her hand and pulling him to a more private area of the stage. “What are you talking about? What’s going on?” She asked as she crossed her arms. 

“Liz, she…” he trailed off as he was hit with flashbacks of last night. “She does drugs.” Was all he was able to get out.

Helena raised a brow and let out a surprised laugh. “Yeah? From the redness in your own eyes, I think you do drugs, too,” she was obviously joking, but he was about to make the situation a lot more real with a single sentence. 

“It was just one time,” he weakly said and watched as her face fell. 

“Anakin,” she gasped and placed her hand on his forearm. “You’ve been doing drugs?”

“It was just one time!” He said again. “And it was a mistake. Please, Helena, you have to believe me on this, she’s not a good person.”

Helena’s eyes flickered all over his face, and he was sure she could see the desperation in his own. “Okay,” she said slowly. “Okay, what happened?”

“She….she gave me a pill last night and then practically forced alcohol down my throat then she..she pushed my shirt up and got onto her knees,” he tried to think back to every detail of the previous night, but he really didn’t want to. It physically pained him to try to remember the feeling of another woman’s lips all over him when it only should’ve ever been you. 

Helena’s eyes widen as she takes in his words. “She…what?”

“She started kissing me then told me to pretend that she was Y/n, and I thought she was. I swear, Helena, I thought she was Y/n, otherwise I would’ve never let her kiss me,” he said desperately and watched as his manager’s face twisted up in disgust. 

“She kissed you? Where? On your chest?” 

“And on my mouth,”

“What the fuck,” she said loudly and pulled away from him. “Why did you do drugs with her in the first place, Anakin? I literally just called you out on that shit a few days ago.”

“I know,” he rasped. “I know, and I’m sorry. Please, Helena, I feel terrible. My chest hurts so fucking bad, I can’t even look at myself. I hate myself. And Y/n’s going to hate me when she finds out I cheated.”

Helena sighed as she shook her head. “You didn’t cheat, Anakin,”

“Yes, I did. I-”

“No,” she cut him off in a stern voice. “You didn’t, alright? Liz is just a….a sneaky bitch who took advantage of you.”

Anakin’s shoulders dropped as he looked down at her. “Do you actually believe that? Do you believe me? After all the shit I’ve done? All the stunts I’ve pulled?” He asked in disbelief. “You believe me?”

Helena gave him an offended look. “Of course I believe you,” she scoffed, brushing her hair out of her face as she tried to compose herself. “We’re a team, Anakin. You, me, Vinny and Theo. I have your guys’ backs, alright? That’s what I’m being paid for.”

She tried to lighten the mood and Anakin actually cracked a small, barely-there smile.

Helena returned it with worried eyes as she placed both her hands on his biceps. “Are you okay?” 

He shook his head as he mumbled, “Y/n will never talk to me again,”

With a sigh, Helena pulls him into a hug. “She will. She has to, okay? You guys have been through too much together,” she tried to assure him, but it wasn’t really helping much. “You just need to tell her the truth.”

Anakin pulled away as he said, “You’re going to fire her, right?”

He was sure she was, but as a conflicted look spread across her face, he knew that was not the case. “She signed a contract, Anakin, and I signed it, too,” she informed him, making him take a few steps back in frustration. “She’s signed onto the tour for another two months, but after that she’s gone.”

“That’s not good enough,” he muttered. “Helena, please.”

She just broke eye contact and stared at the floor. 

Anakin stood up straight and squared his shoulders. “Then I’ll quit the tour,”

Helena looked up at him quickly. “You can’t,” she said. “You signed a contract, too.”

“Then I’ll break it,” he said and cut her off before she could say anything, “I don’t care how much I’ll have to pay, I’m not spending another second around her.”

“You won’t just be paying her, Anakin, you’ll be going to court,” she tried to make him see it from her perspective. “It’ll be broadcasted on every platform. Don’t let her do that. Don’t let her ruin your career.”

“She already ruined my relationship,” he said pathetically. “My career might as well be next.”

“Y/n will understand,” 

“No, she won’t,” he nearly started crying again. “I’ve been a complete fucking prick to her, for weeks. She’ll never understand, and I don’t blame her.” 

Helena wasn’t sure what to say to that since she, too, had been on the receiving end of Anakin’s fits that only started when he began hanging out with Liz. “I’m sorry,” she offered, but he just shook his head. “I swear, I’m going to talk to everyone I can to see if we can get rid of her way sooner. I’m so sorry, Anakin, if I had known she would do something like this, she would’ve never been an option-”

“It’s not your fault, Helena,” he cut her off. “This is all on me.”

She gave him another conflicted look. “I’m going to do everything I can, okay?” Anakin nodded and she smiled up at him, though it was clearly forced. “You just stay away from her. She’s obligated to take your picture while you’re on stage, but that’s it, okay? You just look pretty and I’ll take care of the rest.”

A few hours passed and Anakin still hadn’t been able to reach you. He knew you were still probably pissed at him, and you had every right to be. Still, he missed you more than ever right now, and he just needed to hear your voice. 

It was almost time to go onto stage, so he was trying to hype himself up backstage, but it was no use. 

Vinny had avoided eye contact with him for a bit before he pushed aside his distaste for what he had done and fell into the role of the supportive best friend he was the night before, something Anakin both understood and appreciated. “Just try to give them a good show, okay?” He suggested as he grabbed his drumsticks. “They deserve it.”

Anakin nodded then instantly made eye contact with the very person he would happily live without seeing ever again for the rest of his life. Liz walked backstage with her camera around her neck and subtle smirk painted on her lips, and Anakin felt sick again.

Vinny could see the sudden change and turned around as well before he realized who Anakin had seen. “Ignore her, okay? Don’t even look at her, just-”

“Hey, boys,” Liz interrupted as she moved to stand beside them. “Ready for another amazing show?”

Anakin’s head spun again as he pictured the way she pushed him up against the wall and pulled his shirt up, and he had to quickly look away as Vinny moved to stand in front of him.

“Yeah, we’re ready to be on that stage and far away from you,” he answered and watched as Liz pouted and tried to look around him and at Anakin. “Don’t talk to him, okay? Stay the fuck away from him, and away from all of us.”

She laughed, “What, you speak for him now?” She asked and looked past him again. “That was a fun night last night, huh, Anakin?”

“Liz-” Vinny tried again but Anakin just moved around him and towered over the brunette. 

“From now on, I won’t be talking to you,” he stated, feeling a lot less confident than he sounded. “You can take my picture and you can post it to your stupid fucking Instagram account, but that’s all you’ll be doing for us. Last night was a mistake, as was every single other night I wasted with you. Stay away from me.”

Liz’s smirk faded as a scowl took over her face. “Are you forgetting that I helped you have fun again, Anakin? You were miserable for weeks, and I was there for you-”

“Fuck off,” he said in a calm but somewhat eerie voice, effectively cutting her up. 

She scoffed, “Anakin-”

“Fuck off,” Vinny repeated before pulling Anakin away from her and onto the stage, where they were immediately greeted with a multitude of cheers, making Anakin briefly forget that he had made what he knew was the biggest mistake of his life when he took that fucking pill. 

-

“Great work, Mr Baker,” Kenneth said as he flipped through the sheets Evan had given him at the start of class. “While you kind of lost me at the end, it was a really entertaining piece overall. I think you described your event very well.” 

Evan smiled over at him before looking at you since you were the next one to receive feedback. You cowered in on yourself as you knew you rushed your piece and knew it was probably the worst thing you had ever handed in for marks in your entire life. 

“Miss Y/l/n,” Kenneth trailed off and you squeezed your eyes shut tightly. “I gotta say, this isn’t what I expected from you at this point of the program.”

Evan shifted beside you and you could feel his intense gaze as you leaned back in your chair. You cover your mouth with your hand as your face heated up at all the eyes that had begun looking at you.

“It felt rushed, you didn’t capture my attention right from the beginning like you did with your previous assignments,” he continued and you felt mortified as you opened your eyes again and saw all the surprised looks of your classmates, including Evan. “I expected more from you, Miss Y/l/n.” He finished and you wanted to cry as he moved onto another student. 

Evan nudged your arm as Kenneth began giving the girl in front of you her feedback. “What was that?” He asked but you just shook your head and crossed your arms. “Are you okay?”

Now you care? You wanted to ask but didn’t. 

Instead you just shrug and give him an obviously fake smile. “Never better,”

You were up and out of that classroom before anyone else as soon as Kenneth dismissed you, and you were halfway down the hall before Evan caught up with you. “Hey,” he called in a soft voice, grabbing your arm and making you turn to face him. “What was that in there? What happened to your piece?”

You shrugged again as you hug your notebook to your chest, “I rushed it,”

“Why?” He asked and didn’t bother hiding the surprise in his voice. “You’re usually the best writer in the class-”

“Yeah, that’s why I asked Kenneth why he was favoring me,” you cut him off and watched as shock took over his face.

“You what?”

You pull away from him in embarrassment. “I called him out for having a soft spot for me, like you told me he did,” you say. “Well, turns out he has a wife who is a musician and wanted me to feel as important as my boyfriend is to millions of people and wanted to make sure I know that I’m an equal in my relationship. He wasn’t favoring me at all, he had just lived through what I am currently.” 

Evan’s expression dropped as he ran a hand down his face. “Y/n-”

“It’s alright,” you cut him off. “I should’ve never opened my mouth in the first place.”

“I’m so sorry, I just thought…” he didn’t finish that sentence as he gave you a guilty look. “I’m so sorry.”

You just shake your head. “It’s not your fault,”

“No, it is. I made you think that he was going easy on you, but I misread that whole thing,” he stepped towards you. “I just…I’m sorry.”

You don’t say anything as you stare down at the floor. 

After your call with Anakin, you cried for a long time before writing the worst piece of your life and printing it out before you could scrap it. You handed it in, knowing how bad it was since you couldn’t focus at all after you accused your instructor of treating you differently than the rest of the class.

You were still so embarrassed and were so close to getting on the next flight back to California and forgetting all about this program. You missed your apartment and Anakin more than words could describe, though you tried to in that awful excuse of a piece you submitted today. 

“Let me make it up to you,” Evan practically begged and you gave him a small smile while shaking your head. 

“There’s nothing to make up,” you wave him off. “You didn’t force me to talk to Kenneth, I did that on my own.”

“After I ignored you for the whole weekend and gave you false information,” he pointed out. “Let’s do something. Maybe get your mind off it?”

That sounded really good right now, but you wanted to be alone. You never wanted to show your face around this campus again, and you wanted to cry as you met Evan’s desperate eyes. 

You were about to ignore your own wants and agree, but your phone going off had you stepping away from him. “It’s Anakin,” you tell Evan, watching as he nodded. “I’ve been ignoring his calls since Monday. I should probably talk to him.”

It was true. Anakin had been calling you since early yesterday morning, with the first call coming in at two AM, that one you accidentally missed since you were sleeping off your embarrassment, but the other ones you have purposely ignored since you were still upset with him.

It was Wednesday afternoon now, and while you weren’t ready to talk to him yet, you knew you were just making things worse by not answering him.

“Sure,” Evan said and gave you a sad smile. “I’m really sorry again, Y/n. I really am.”

You wave him off again and turn around, bringing your phone up to your ear as you leave the building and step out onto the campus grounds. “Hi,” you mumble as you head in the direction of your dorm.

“Y/n,” he sounded breathless and you felt your brows furrow in concern. “Hi. I’m so happy you answered.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you trail off. “I was purposely ignoring you.”

He laughed and the sound had a smile forming on your lips despite your efforts of fighting it off. “I don’t blame you,” he said. “I’m such a bad boyfriend. I can’t believe how awful I’ve been to you, I’m so sorry about everything.”

His words were a bit surprising since you had gotten a bit used to his short temper and harshness over the last couple of weeks. While you knew Anakin was nowhere near being a bad guy, he had changed a lot since you’ve been away from him, and his responses and attitude have definitely shifted, and you had unfortunately been on the receiving end of most of his outbursts. 

Still, you were so in love with him, you just put up with it, something that had caused you to burn out rapidly and ultimately resulted in you going off on him during the last phone call. “Oh,” you say in surprise as you take your key out of your jacket’s pocket. “Um, it’s fine, Ani.”

It wasn’t, but you didn’t feel like arguing with him about it anymore. You were so worn out, you just wanted to quit everything and go back home. Your real home, not your dorm. 

Anakin seemed to know that it wasn’t fine, too, since he said, “No, it’s not. It’s not fine at all, baby, and I know it’s not. You know it’s not, so please don’t say that it is,”

You furrow your brows as you toss your keys onto your desk and drop your bag onto the floor once you enter your room. 

Something must have happened for him to have done a whole one eighty. You assumed Vinny or maybe even Helena snapped at him since he was acting completely different now than he had been for weeks before this. He was acting like he did way before, back when the tour just started, and your heart began beating a bit quicker at the thought of him going back to how he used to be before he let his stress take over. 

“It’s not fine,” you hesitantly agree, still afraid to set him off like you somehow did last time. “But I understand, Anakin, you’re stressed-”

“That’s not an excuse,” he cut you off and you promptly shut up since he was clearly in a mood to set things straight and attempt to make it right with you. “There are no excuses, and I love you for doing it, but I need you to stop trying to find them for me. I was so out of line, and I had no right to treat you like you were just there to help me write songs and inspire me as if that was all you are to me. You’re everything, Y/n, and I’m so sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t.”

You sit down on your bed and chew on your lip as you take in his words. Something pretty serious had to have happened for him to feel the need to remind you of all the things you already were sure of, and you were a bit nervous about what he could’ve possibly done to come to this conclusion. 

Maybe he pissed Vinny off one too many times. Or maybe he hadn’t been as sensitive with Theo as he should’ve been. Helena growing sick of his attitude was a possibility, too. 

“You’re everything to me, too, Ani,” you say and bring your knees up to your chest. “You know that. A few fights over the phone doesn’t change that.”

“I know,” he replied. “I know it doesn’t, baby, I just need you to know that I’m sorry. And that I love you more than anything else in the world.”

“I love you, too, Anakin,” you say back and lean against your pillow. “What brought this on? Did Vin get to you?”

There was a long pause and you were beginning to regret asking since whatever happened seemed to be still pretty fresh in his mind, but then he finally rasped, “I just miss you so much, princess,” 

You could tell he was holding back, but you refused to push him on it as he was in a very fragile state right now from what you could tell. You look around your empty dorm room before your gaze settles onto the calendar you hung on the wall above your desk. “Where are you playing this weekend? What location?” 

There was a brief pause and you assumed he was checking or asking one of the guys as you waited for his answer. “We’ll be in France by Friday. We have a few shows in Paris,”

He was so quiet with his responses, you felt your heart pull a bit at whatever it was that happened after your call. “Maybe I can meet you there?” You offer and really hoped he said yes since you wanted to get the fuck out of London after the last few days you’ve had. “I miss you, too, Ani, so much. I need to get away from this dorm and that fucking class before I embarrass myself even further.”

“What are you talking about? You said things were going great,”

“Yeah, they were before I acted like an idiot in front of my instructor then handed in the most pathetic excuse of an assignment in history,” you tried to lighten the mood, but you weren’t sure how effective your attempt was since it had him letting out a sigh.

“I’m really sorry, baby,” he apologized again. “I should’ve listened to you when you called me crying a few days ago. It broke my heart to hear you so upset and know there was nothing I could do to help.”

You shake your head, knowing he can’t see you. “I just needed you, Ani,” you say quietly. “Like I always will.”

“I’ll always need you, too, princess. Always,” he said back, making you smile as you looked away from the calendar that had all your class times on it. “I’ll buy the plane ticket, or train ticket, or whatever it is you’ll use to meet me in Paris. I can’t wait to see you, pretty girl. I miss you so fucking much.”

You wear a dumb grin as you lay back on your bed and stare up at the ceiling. “I can’t wait to see you, Ani,”

He went quiet again for a few seconds before asking, “Did you decide on whether or not you’re dropping out?”

“Oh, you caught that, huh?” You teased, surprised he was actually paying attention to what you were saying when you yelled at him the other night. You think it over for a bit before asking a question of your own, “Would you be disappointed if I did drop out?”

“Of course not,” came his immediate reply and you felt your shoulders drop in relief. “You were so excited about this program, but if it’s not what you expected or if you’re not happy with it then do what does make you happy. There are other courses you can try, too, and if you decide you want to do something completely different then I’ll be your biggest supporter for that, too.”

You blushed a bit and secretly loved that he was still able to make you do that even though he wasn’t even with you. Knowing he had your back no matter what you end up deciding to do made you feel better than you had in weeks, and you realized just how much you missed talking to him like this. “This was a good call, Ani,” you observe instead of continuing the conversation of your possible decision to drop out.

“It was,” he agreed then quickly added, “And I promise there won’t be any more bad ones if I can help it. I love you so much, Y/n, forever.”

Your whole body released butterflies as you returned his promise, “I love you, too, Anakin. Forever,”

[velvette-creations]

Death's Bride

Interview with the Vampire: Santiago x fem!reader 

Companion Piece of "To Be Loved by Death"

Rating: Mature

WC: 1.0 k 

Prompt: Temporary Death for @sweetspicybingo (Hurt/Comfort Bingo Collection)

Warnings: Vampirism: lots and lots of blood, feeding, turning

A/n: This old white man has me in a chokehold, what can I say? Ben Daniel did wonders with Santiago. Also there’s a little easter egg in the fic for all those who are fans of the original film ;)

Summary: Santiago turns you

The coven had unanimously voted to let you join, though Armand seemed reluctant in his response. You learned he had never created a vampire in his five hundred years. There was something about him that you didn’t trust, but Santiago led the coven now, and his sights fell upon you, so no one dared argue with him. You half expected Eglee to rip your throat out, but you had no qualms about sharing Santiago with her. You even allowed her to feed on you from time to time.

Finally, the night of your translation arrived in the true fashion of the coven; it would be a spectacle for the public to behold at a premium price.

“My love, are you prepared to confront death’s beckoning this very night?” Santiago inquired, enveloping your hands in his own before guiding you in a slow dance across the stage. 

“Yes,” you whispered.

“Louder, ma chérie. The audience needs to hear your answer,” he smirked, his glowing cerulean eyes locked on yours.

“Y..yes!” your voice quivered, the unease palpable in the air. You spoke louder this time, feeling uneasy as the audience laughed at your reaction. His hands were cold against yours, but you didn’t mind it. You had grown used to his cold embrace, the sharpness of his bite, and the nonexistent beating heart. It was hollow when you rested your head on his chest. You had believed you would fall in love with a man of warm flesh and blood, but instead, you found a cold demon had taken hold of your heart.

“Are you ready to be our bride?”

The coven moved into position, clad in white, reminding you of ghosts. They moved in spectral synchronization, swirling around the stage as Santiago danced you around. The fresh bite marks on your neck throbbed. Ruby droplets oozed from the puncture wounds, stirring the base desires in the ghostly vampires surrounding you. You kept your eyes trained on Santiago. He had offered you the dark gift, and you were willing to accept it and live by his side for eternity.

Eglee moved behind you, her fangs ghosting over your neck as her glass nails dug into the threadbare fabric of your black dress. The tattered garment had been a relic of old, worn by how many before you, you had no idea. It was a funeral dress with a high neck and frayed lace, but it portrayed you as death’s bride. The coven performers circled you, their greedy hands clenching at the hem. You twisted in the grasp until, finally, the gown was torn from your body, leaving you bare before the unfamiliar eyes of the audience and the salacious ones of the coven. Santiago beckoned you closer, drawing you into his arms.

“I am ready,” you whispered to him, then repeated your words louder for the captive audience to hear.

“Then it is time,” Santiago announced before sinking his fangs into your neck—a sweet burn, followed by a pulse of pain before it all became dull.

You grew limp as he drained you, as he lifted your weak body and passed you into the arms of the other members before they advanced on you. The curtains fell as thunderous applause and cheers filled the theater. Santiago ordered the others away, his voice muffled in your ears as you descended into darkness, unable to keep your eyes open. Life slowly drained from your body as your blood filled their insatiable mouths. You teetered into the darkness, letting it swallow you whole.

They suddenly pulled away from you, blood dripping from their greedy lips as Santiago loomed over top of you. His glistening nail sliced through his wrist before he knelt and pressed it to your mouth. You groaned as the ruby droplets filled you. Slowly, you gained your strength and consciousness as he brought you back to life. You grasped his wrist tightly as a voracious hunger surged through you.

“Ah, ah, chérie, that is enough,” Santiago scolded, patting your cheek before pulling his wrist away.

You sat up, your hair, longer and thicker, cascading down your naked body as blood clung to your mouth. Your tongue traced around your fangs, and you watched with fascination as your nails lengthed and hardened. 

“I want more,” you growled.

“Then I would say a hunt is in order,” Santiago smirked, extending a hand to help you to your feet. The coven bristled in their agreement, and preparations were made. You dressed in leather jodhpurs, riding boots, and a red blouse, ready to tackle the City of Paris. The women of the coven decorated your fingers with ornate silver rings, and Santiago pressed his cigarette against your lips. You inhaled deeply, the smoke wafting around you as you tasted ash. The leather scent of his jacket was thick against your nostrils. Everything felt heightened. Enhanced.

“Come, ma chérie, the night awaits!” Santiago announced with a flourish.

The night became alive through your new eyes, vivid and bustling. You could smell everything: the hot blood pumping through veins, the sweet wine poured into glasses, the pungent smell of sweat, and you wanted to taste it all. Your vision was enhanced, making out the small details of clothing worn by the blurred bodies you passed and counting the cracks in the pavement. As his motorbike zoomed through the brightly lit city, your nails dug into Santiago's arm before letting out a whoop of delight. Santiago’s laugh bounced through the air at your enthusiasm. The coven descended upon a tavern on the outskirts, and the feeding began.

Your fangs sliced through flesh like butter, reveling in the warm spurt of blood that poured into your flushed mouth. You tore the throats of three men, draining them to the brink of death before releasing them. You wondered if you would ever feel full enough.

“You are a true creature of the night, chérie,” Santiago praised as his thumb traced around your crimson-stained lips, swiping the droplets away. He pressed the digit to his mouth and suckled it clean.

“I have never felt more alive,” you breathed, lifting your head to press your blood-stained lips to his, savoring in the intensity of his kiss.

His arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you into the air as the slaughter continued beneath your dangling feet. It was finally in death that you felt the most alive.

[diazsdimples]

Several Sentence Sunday!!

Bringing you sentences from two wips today because I am Indecisive™️ and am enjoying these both. Tagged by @theotherbuckley

First snippet is from my beloved Frostpunk AU. Eddie is purely vibing here.

Sometimes it feels like Eddie’s being moved, his body shifting from one side to another without him moving a muscle. It hurts when this happens, a sharp pain driving into his side as though a knife has been plunged through his ribs. He tries to take in a sharp breath but there’s something blocking his throat. He tries to lift a hand to claw at his mouth, to remove the obstruction, but his arms are leaden and won’t move. He whines, as much as he can with something down his throat, and he can feel his heartrate picking up. Suddenly, a heavy warmth envelops his hand, and gentle, low words penetrate through the haze, swimming through his brain until that’s all he focuses on. “It’s okay, Edmundo, you’re safe. Christopher is safe. I’m – I mean – we’re here.” It’s Eddie, not Edmundo, he wants to say. He wants nothing more than to hear this nice, calming Voice speak his name properly. He wants to hold onto the warmth in his hand so it never leaves, but it always does. Sometimes he thinks he hears his son’s voice. Not words, but small sounds that get picked up and wafted towards him. It’s usually when that Voice is nearby, mumbling soft words that tell stories of princesses and pirates and swordfights and giants, and he hears a small hum or sigh that he just knows is Christopher. He’d be able to pick out his son’s voice from a mile away. It gives him strength, knowing Christopher is close and being cared for. Sometimes he dimly wonders if the Voice and the Angel are the same, a guardian staying around and caring for him and his son as if that’s what it was put on this earth to do. Maybe he can get better, if only to see his son again and to hear the Voice and see the face it belongs to. So, Eddie drifts as his body heals, cuts knitting back together, his lungs slowly gaining strength until he feels he could take a breath without feels as though they could collapse. His heart beats steadier and with less pain. He doesn’t feel cold anymore, especially not when that heavy warmth settles on his forehead, his cheek, or around his fingers. Maybe, just maybe everything will be okay. Maybe he succeeded. Maybe he got himself and his son to safety. And if that’s true, he just hopes Shannon can forgive him.

The other snippet is from this fic that I'm co-writing with @theotherbuckley. Please enjoy some spice.

“How do you want to do this?” Eddie asks as he mouths at the length of Buck’s neck. “Think you can take me?” He says it like a challenge, one Buck seems more than happy to rise to. He draws himself to his full height — fuck, Eddie had forgotten that Buck’s got a couple of inches on him — and looks Eddie dead in the eyes. The blue of his irises are barely visible as his pupils blow, hunger burning deep as he surveys Eddie’s face as if taking inventory of his features. Buck leans forwards, his whole persona exuding cocky confidence, and he brushes his lips tantalisingly against Eddie’s, smirking as Eddie lets out a shaky breath. “Every last inch.” The last of Eddie’s resolve crumbles, and he surges forward, kissing Buck hard and dirty as he pulls him away from the door. They stumble across the room, tripping over loose items of clothing that are strewn across the floor - Buck 1.0 clearly isn’t the best housekeeper. The minute the backs of Buck’s legs hit the bed he falls backwards, dragging Eddie down with him. Eddie braces himself with an arm to the side of Buck’s head, his other hand cupping Buck’s jaw as he slowly, meticulously takes him apart with his lips. Buck groans into Eddie’s mouth and grabs a fistfull of his ass, pulling Eddie on top of him a little more so that Eddie’s whole body blankets his. Eddie slots a leg between Buck’s and smirks into the kiss as Buck grinds needily against his thigh, letting out high-pitched whines with each small thrust. “You need it badly, hmm?” Eddie hums as he breaks the kiss and begins to mouth along Buck’s jaw, down his neck, until he latches onto his collarbone. Buck nods vigorously and whines again as Eddie bites a mark into the tender skin. 

No pressure tagging @hippolotamus @daffi-990 @watchyourbuck @bidisasterevankinard @neverevan

@bibabyboybuck @aroeddiediaz @spotsandsocks @bibuckbuckgoose @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove

@nmcggg @jesuisici33 @wikiangela @loveyouanyway @cal-daisies-and-briars

@exhuastedpigeon @epicbuddieficrecs @kitteneddiediaz @hermscat @worriedbisexual

@thekristen999 @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @actuallyitsellie @idealuk @dangerpronebuddie

@houseofevanbuckley @daemonsrhaenyra @loserdiaz @elvensorceress @underwaterninja13

@rainbow-nerdss @smilingbuckley @spagheddiediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @thewolvesof1998

@jehdogg @ohlookitsthearkhamknight @revenge-of-the-assbutt @likeamollusconarock @this-is-moony-lovegood

@morethanoneside @random-trash-animal @woogigi @redpheonixwitch @having-conniptions

(lmk if you want to be added/removed)

[sh4dys]

Vacation crush » Nick Sturniolo » 1.0

summary: bumping into the very boy you couldn’t stop thinking about, little did you know he couldn’t stop either <3

warnings: masc!reader, swearing, mostly the same at part one

A/N: i didn’t expect you guys to want a part two but omg?? i love you guys and i tried to make it as best as possible for the lovelies -> @mattslolita , @nathandoesgf

Sad to say your final day of vacation wasn’t spent with Nick. You spend the entire day texting him, but didn’t find him anywhere on the beach or the surrounding buildings.

You were devastated to say the least, but you knew eventually you would have to see him again, right? It was only 8 at night, the sun was down, you had to see him before midnight.

“Honey, you gotta finish packing.” Your mom sighed as she walked into your hotel room, running a hand down your back. “You’ll see that Nick boy again, I promise.” She smiled softly at you, kissing your cheek before exiting the room to put her own things in the car.

You followed behind her with a blank expression, your headphones blasting music in your ears as you tossed your things inside the trunk.

You kept glancing at your phone to see if he would text you again, frowning when he left you on read. You looked around your surroundings and tried to spot him, a groan leaving your lips when your mom told you to stop and get in the car.

“Mom, I just wanna see him one last time. Is that so hard to ask?” You sighed and leaned against the side of the car, thinking about how you were so desperate to see a boy you met only a week or so ago.

“Hon, if he tells you where he is, I’ll let you jump out the window and find him. But we have you go now.” Her voice only grew more stern, your head dropping as you hesitantly got into the passenger side of the car.

You were still stuck staring at your phone, waiting patiently for him to simply respond. You felt annoying with constantly checking to see if he would get back to you, but little did you know why.

Nick was rushing around to try and find you, but his brothers were too busy getting distracted with shops and attractions.

“Guys, I do not have time for this. My messages aren’t going through, I wanna see him, can we please hurry the fuck up?” He groaned and rushed the other way, holding his phone in the air to try and catch some signal.

You were staring out of the window, when your eyes spotted him. You quickly hit your mom’s arm and pointed at him, taking your headphones off.

“Mom! It’s Nick! Pull over!” You were frantic, watching as she took her time, making you groan lightly. She didn’t even have time to park before you jumped out of the car, running towards him.

“Nick!” Your voice had him grunting in your direction, a smile lighting up his face as he ran to meet you half way. He quickly wrapped his arms around your waist, yours flying around his shoulders as you held him close.

You could feel his heart beating out of his chest, an equally wide smile forming on your lips as you buried your face in his neck.

You began to feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, awkwardly pulling away and grabbed it from your pocket, seeing as each text he tried to send now flooded your notifications.

“I tried texting you..” He mumbled under his breath, scratching the back of his neck as he looked down. You couldn’t help but smile, looking back at him with a slight blush. “Someone clearly likes me.” You chuckled and pulled him back into a hug, smiling lightly to yourself.

He gently cupped your chin, lifting you head to have you look at him. He still has an arm around your waist, a nervous sigh leaving his lips.

“I missed seeing you.” He spoke quietly, glancing down at your lips for a moment. “And I really wanna be able to see you again.” His gaze met yours again, silently asking for permission to do the very thing you both craved.

You nodded subtly, a sense of relief washing over you as his lips gently pressed against yours. One of your hands held the back of his neck, fingers messing with his hair, while he cupped your jaw and held your hip.

He pulled away after a moment or two, smiling down at you with a flush expression. You could hear his brothers clapping a couple yards away, making you embarrassed. You hid your face behind your hands, only for Nick to grab your wrists and gently move them.

You pouted at his actions, only for him to laugh. “I wanna see your face again before you go.” He pressed a quick peck to your nose and pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face in your neck. “We can plan something. I promise.. and be sure to FaceTime me tonight.” He spoke in a warning tone, before moving away from you.

“I’ll be sure to do it. I’ll see you sometime, Nick.” You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before running back to your mom’s car, getting into the passenger seat and waved to him and his brothers.

You didn’t even pay attention to your mom until you heard her dramatically cough and speak up. “I didn’t want to watch my son make out with someone.” She sighed and looked at you with a raised brow.

“Mom!”

[logs-of-the-whole]

LOGS OF THE WHOLE

Log 1.0 - The Juno Incident

" Juno was mad, he knew he'd been had - So he shot at the sun with a gun. "

--------------------------------------- ----------------------------------- > >

They were fighting again.

Like they did every day.

The noise always bothered them, even if they had gone through it for years.

Soul sat in their room trying to block out the back-and-forth yelling that came from the kitchen, it seemed like just any other day. Heart and Mind started to argue about some stupid idea, they knew this would go on and on until one -- probably Heart -- walked away. It never ended.

But then it got quiet, eerily quiet.

Soul sat up in their chair, listening for something, anything of a noise hinting at what had happened. When it came, it sent nothing but a shot of anxiety and worry through them.

The bang of a gunshot, and the silence broken by the gun being dropped, all made Soul fearful of what had happened. They moved quickly but cautiously to the kitchen, finding Heart and Mind standing across from each other, the gun lying at Heart's feet, and an expression of shock on Mind's usually stoic face.

Soul tried to understand, They tried to understand what they saw in front of them, the gun, the look on Mind's face, and the fact that the gun was at Heart's feet. It all confused them, Had Heart shot at mind? If so, why did the normally empathetic and peaceful (be it stressful ) Heart shoot at Mind?

Minds laugh broke the silence, the only other sound being Heart's heavy breathing and Soul's own heartbeat, though they knew they could only hear it.

{ What the fuck happened here? } Soul tried to keep their worry out of their voice, but their voice still wavered as they spoke. {There is a gun, Mind looks- } They looked towards Mind's face, studying the shock that still lined his features, { dumbstruck to say the least! And- Heart, that gun- did you shoot at. . did you shoot at mind? }

Soul looked towards Heart, their heart still beating heavily as no response came from The Heart. They stepped forward and picked up the gun placing it as far away from the two as they could while keeping an eye on them both.

Mind was the next to speak up. [ I told him he couldn't. That you would finally come out of your room, there are consequences to his actions after all. ] Mind had stepped closer to Heart, his tone mocking as a chuckle escaped him.

It wasn't long until Heart had escaped into his room, leaving the atmosphere full of tension and a slight sense of confusion from Soul. Mind followed heart, a scoff leaving him.

The Soul only sighed, they sat on the counter looking towards the window as what had just happened went through their mind. Knowing they really should've come to stop the argument before it escalated,

But how would they have known?

How would they have known Heart would go that far?

It wasn't like Heart to get to those extremes, maybe a punch or two would happen along with their arguments, but a gun? it was unexpected and unbelievable.

Why? just- Why.

They just didn't understand.

- 537 words -

Please reblog / interact ! not forced to though

[notquiteascrazy]

Maybe this is it?

(Read on AO3)

It starts with standing just a little bit closer on calls. Their arms bump as they walk. Then the touches start to linger. A hand on an arm for a moment longer than necessary. A brush of fingers that becomes a bit more than that. Soon it’s their knees pressing against each other on a definitely big enough couch as they drink beer and watch a movie. All of it is a perfectly natural escalation of their friendship. They’re just that close. They’re partners.

The first time Buck brushes Eddie’s hair back it’s because his hands are busy coiling the hoses after a particularly gruelling job. He can hear the little huffs of breath as Eddie tries to blow the strands tickling at his eyes out of the way but it’s clearly futile. They’ve talked a lot about how they’re both long overdue haircuts but B shift is running a skeleton crew right now after an incident at a five-alarm fire and so everyone’s been pulling double shifts for weeks. There’s just no time.

So Buck does the only natural thing a friend would do in those circumstances and reaches out to brush Eddie’s hair back, out of his face. The contented sigh that Eddie releases creates a burst of warmth in Buck that sits with him all day. After that, it becomes natural to reach out and tuck the longer locks back for Eddie and see that warm smile that fills him with joy.

Even after they finally get their hair cuts, the gentle touches remain. Buck realises that after tough calls – particularly those involving kids – Eddie likes his hair being stroked. It soothes him. All it takes is a couple of seconds before the tension practically bleeds out of Eddie. His shoulders melt from hunched-up knots to gentle slopes as Buck rakes his fingers through his best friend’s hair.

No one ever questions it or really comments. The 118 is good like that. They’re progressive. They understand that male friendship doesn’t have to be toxic bullshit, it can be gentle and affirming. Buck feels his own personal growth deep in his soul. He knows how far he’s come from his 1.0 days and if he wasn’t proud enough of himself, the looks he sometimes catches Bobby giving, when he thinks Buck can’t see, would reassure him that he’s found his place in this world.

The memories of the lightning strike eventually fade. Doctor Copeland helps a lot. Buck works through the trauma and the confusion of the alternate reality he experienced while in his coma. And over time, those memories fade. He still occasionally wakes up in a cold sweat and has to text Bobby just to reassure himself that his Captain is still there, and is still alive. But those occasions become more and more infrequent.

What he’s not been able to shake is the empty memory of knowing Eddie didn’t exist in that universe. Sure, Buck barely existed – not in the life they’ve built together, at least – but Eddie? Pure and good Eddie. A man who tried his damned hardest, who loved unconditionally? He was nowhere to be seen. There’d been Hen and Chim, Maddie (ignoring the horrifying presence of Doug)... So many people Buck loved. But no Eddie.

Buck has come close to facing that reality on more occasions than he cares to count. Their jobs are dangerous and he knows every day there is a chance that one of them might not make it back from some of the worst calls. But that’s a hypothetical here. In this reality, Eddie will always make it back because Buck will always have his back. Buck will always put Eddie’s life before his own. No matter what Eddie says to the contrary. No amount of ‘Because, Evan’s will change that.

And so maybe they get even closer. Sitting in each other’s personal space is no longer enough, no matter how much of Eddie’s warmth Buck can feel as they press side by side. Instead, movie nights become Buck curled into Eddie’s side. His head against Eddie’s chest and the reassuring thump of Eddie’s heart beating in his ear. This way he knows Eddie is real. This way he knows he’s alive.

He thinks Eddie feels it too. The way Eddie’s hand curls protectively against his neck. His fingers pressed just delicately against Buck’s pulse point. It would not be noticeable if it was anyone but Buck. But Buck knows Eddie intrinsically. He’s familiar with every plane of his body. With every micro-expression. With every press of his fingers. He knows that gentle touch against his carotid is Eddie’s way of reassuring himself that Buck came back to him.

It’s that feeling of being so overly protected that makes Buck twist his head slightly and press his lips over Eddie’s heart where it beats steadily under his ribcage. A silent thanks and an almost prayer that it never-ever stops beating. That it’s reassuring thump continues to keep rhythm. To keep Eddie. Eddie’s hand at his neck presses firmer, just for a moment. It’s imperceptible really but Buck senses it – he knows Eddie understands. They don’t ever talk about ‘it’... About the trauma. They both process in their own ways. But they both move ever closer.

Buck’s shaking. His entire body is coiled tight with anxiety and every muscle spasming involuntarily. He hates calls going wrong. But particularly the ones where he’s right there. Where he could have done something. Ran a little bit quicker. Reached a little bit further. Been standing slightly to the left. Anything. Anything that would have saved that mom’s life. As it was, her two kids were going to grow up never knowing her. And it was Buck’s fault. He knew it was. If he’d just been enough. If he’d just been better.

He goes home on autopilot. He stands under the shower until the scalding water turns icy; until his flesh feels like it might peel away from his bones. It’s not enough. It can’t wash away the feeling of smoke cloying at his skin. Or the knowledge that he just wasn’t good enough. That he hadn’t tried hard enough.

He makes himself a sandwich because he knows he should eat, even if the food tastes like ash in his mouth. He knows he needs his strength if he’s to try again tomorrow. To seek atonement, or redemption or whatever. To make it right and resettle the balance by saving the next person. By being enough next time. 

There’s a scrape of a key in the lock but Buck doesn’t look up. He can’t lift his head or turn to the door. It doesn’t matter. Only one person has a key anyway. And he’ll understand. There won’t be any expectations from his partner. Because Eddie will know how empty and cold Buck feels. He was there to see every moment of Buck’s failure. To watch as the woman, as Carol, slipped right through Buck’s grasp. And Eddie won’t judge him. He won’t love him any less. But he’ll understand that Buck wasn’t enough for Carol. But he’s there to tell Buck that he is still worthy.

A warm hand presses against his neck, fingers fluttering over his pulse point and thumb rubbing gently at the ridges of Buck’s vertebra. Buck knows he doesn’t deserve to be cared for like this, not when he’s let so many people down, but he feels himself relax into the touch. He feels his blood pump that little bit stronger through his veins. His extremities warming by just a few degrees but enough to make him feel a little bit less like a ghost.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t move closer but he doesn’t move away. He just stands with his hand a grounding weight against Buck’s neck until Buck is ready to lean back into the touch to press his back against Eddie’s torso and to feel the support of his partner holding him up.

And if Eddie presses a soft kiss to Buck’s hairline? And if Buck’s heart leaps into his throat at the press of lips to his still too-cold skin? And if he feels the blood rush to his face, chasing the high of Eddie’s lips? What of it? It’s just another evolution in their ever-shifting friendship. Another redefining of their boundaries.

Buck’s stopped dating. So has Eddie. Neither of them really have the time. Between work, and Christopher, and each other. They never really talk about it. It’s barely a conscious choice. They just choose to be content with each other. With that being enough. And on days when Buck feels so touch starved he’s not even sure if he’s actually a real, living human, there’s always Eddie there to hold him until he comes back to his body again with whispered reassurances and the delicate press of fingers to pulse points and lips to cheeks.

No one else will ever get it, is the problem. No one understands the need to do good in the world, the drive to help people and the adrenaline that comes with putting your life on the line for another human being. And the feeling of abject devastation when it all goes wrong. No one except another first responder. So Buck learns to rely solely on Eddie, and Eddie on Buck.

The rest of the 118 have families to go home to. Chim has Jee and Maddie to remind him of all the good in the world. Hen has Karen and an ever-growing brood of found family that they’re growing together. Bobby has Athena. And Buck? Buck has Christopher and Eddie. They’re an almost inseparable trio at this point. Buck can’t remember the last meal he ate alone. The last evening that wasn’t punctuated by some form of ‘But, Daaaaad’ pleas – be it about homework or bedtime… And so his life feels complete in a way no relationship has ever made him feel. Even on the bleakest days, he knows he’ll find at least a small sliver of sunshine. Be it in Eddie’s touch or Christopher’s wide grins.

Maybe this is it? Maybe this is all he needs. His partner and his partner’s kid fill that hole in his heart and make everything feel real again. That bone-deep sense of contentment and peace that he finds nowhere else. That ability to finally switch his brain off and slow down. This is what he’s been unknowingly searching for his whole life. This is what it’s supposed to feel like. To feel unconditionally loved, and needed, and wanted, and protected, and necessary. To feel like there’s always somewhere there, no matter what. The highs. The lows. The everythings in between.

This is it, right?!

[tinytinyblogs]

Take Me Back

After the breakup, all they can think about is you.

Hyung line, Maknae line(coming soon)

Stray Kids Masterlist 1.0 & 2.0

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Chan

Chan had been isolating himself since the breakup, retreating into his studio and shutting out the world. At first, he thought it was what he needed—to be alone and process everything. But as the days blurred together, he wasn’t sure anymore. Was he giving himself space to heal, or was he just drowning in his own sadness? The once-productive sanctuary of his studio became a place of frustration. The half-finished song on his computer screen mocked him, the melody incomplete, the lyrics refusing to flow. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t focus. All he could feel was the heavy ache in his chest. In that moment, he swore all he could think about was you. His mind reeled, his breath caught, and he realized he had never known just how important you were in his life until now. Sometimes, he swore he could hear your voice, faint but clear, nagging him gently like you used to whenever he overworked himself. The familiarity of it almost brought him comfort, but it was just a reminder of how much he missed you. His friends were worried.

They tried to coax him out, to remind him that he didn’t have to deal with this alone, but Chan would just shake his head and offer a weak smile. He spent his days clicking his pen absentmindedly, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent room. One evening, as the pen clicked rhythmically in his hand and he stared blankly at his computer screen, the door creaked open. He didn’t look up at first, too lost in his thoughts. But then he caught sight of you standing there in the corner of his vision. He blinked, startled, his heart skipping a beat it's a quiet exchange of gazes between you and him. "Stupid imagination," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head and turning his attention back to the screen. “Until when are you going to keep caving yourself in like this, Chan?” His head snapped up, his wide eyes locking onto yours. The sound of your voice was too clear, too real. He couldn’t believe it. “Have you eaten?” you asked softly, stepping closer to him. Before he could respond, you reached out and gently took the pen from his hand.

Chan froze his voice seems caught in his throat, perhaps because he's too surprised to see you standing there in front of him. His breath catching in his throat. For a moment, he thought he was dreaming, but when you didn’t disappear, he stood abruptly. His arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling you close. “It’s real... it’s really you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “God, I missed you so much.” His face buried itself in the curve of your neck as if he couldn’t let go. Your hand gently patted his back, and he exhaled shakily, some of the tension in his body melting away. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “Please don’t leave. Keep nagging me, please. I need you in my life.” You let him hold you, your presence grounding him. “I thought I’d lost you forever after that stupid argument,” Chan said, his voice muffled against your shoulder. “But now… I know I can’t lose you. Not when I need you the most.” And for the first time in weeks, his heart felt just a little lighter.

Minho

Minho was stubborn, always had been. After the messy breakup, he carried on as though everything was fine, pretending nothing had changed. To most, he seemed unaffected, moving through his days with the same routine. But underneath the facade, he felt hollow. Without you, his world felt off balance. Motivation, once his driving force, slipped through his fingers. He went through the motions, but everything felt heavier now. Minho became more irritable, snapping at small things that would’ve never bothered him before. He wasn’t the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, but even he couldn’t deny that everything felt wrong without you. Though Minho had never been one for overt displays of affection, he missed the simple things—like holding your hand, the warmth of your fingers intertwined with his. It was ironic how much he craved it now, a reminder of what he’d lost. In quiet moments alone, he’d find himself staring at his phone case, the one you’d given him. The stickers you both had printed together—the ones that matched like high school sweethearts—mocked him with memories of happier times.

He’d trace his finger over them absentmindedly, his chest tightening at how much he missed those days. One particularly rough day, overwhelmed by the mess of emotions he kept bottled up, Minho decided to go for a run. The cold air burned his lungs as he pushed himself harder, as though he could outrun the ache in his heart. But when he stopped, panting and catching his breath, he froze. He was standing in front of your apartment building. His feet seemed to have carried him there without him even realizing it. Somehow, he found himself wondering just how much he had been longing for you. Before he even realized it, his feet had carried him to your place—but even then, he couldn’t bring himself to turn back. For a moment, he debated turning back, but the pull was too strong. Before he knew it, he was stepping inside and walking toward your door. And then, as if fate had planned it, the door swung open. You were there, about to head out. Both of you froze. “How many times do I need to tell you to zip up this jacket?” Minho broke the silence, stepping closer.

Without waiting for permission, he gently pulled the zipper up, shielding you from the cold. “Winter’s coming soon.” His voice was soft but firm, and the gesture was so familiar that it made your heart ache. His hand gently cradled yours, feeling the coldness of your hand, and slowly, his warmth began to transfer to you. There was a beat of silence as he looked at you, his gaze searching yours. Finally, he spoke again. “We should... get back together.” Your breath hitched, but you didn’t respond, letting him continue. “We made that silly promise, remember? To stay together forever,” he said, his voice quieter now. A hint of tears welled up in his eyes, revealing a side of Minho you had never seen before. “I still want that. I still want you.” Minho’s hand reached up, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering for a moment. “I’m sorry... and I love you.” For the first time in weeks, Minho allowed himself to hope.

Changbin

Changbin couldn’t take it anymore. The weight of his own words—those impulsive, thoughtless words that shattered everything—had been suffocating him from the moment they left his lips. A few days had passed since the breakup, but each one dragged on endlessly, a torment he couldn’t escape. Regret gnawed at him like a relentless shadow, keeping him restless and desperate. That evening, he sat alone on the couch in his apartment—the same one you used to share. His leg bounced nervously as he buried his face in his hands, trying to untangle the chaos of his thoughts. But no matter how hard he tried, every thread led back to you. The empty space beside him, the silence that filled the room, and the constant ache in his chest all screamed one thing: he needed to fix this. He needed you back. By midnight, the longing became unbearable. Grabbing his jacket, Changbin bolted out the door, his heart hammering with every step. The cold night air stung his cheeks, but he barely noticed. His thoughts were consumed with you—your smile, your laughter, the way you looked at him as if he were your whole world. How had he let it all slip away?

When he reached your place, his hand trembled as he reached for the spare key you had once entrusted to him. The metal felt cold against his skin, a stark reminder of what he had lost. Taking a deep breath, he unlocked the door and stepped inside, his heart pounding so loudly it echoed in his ears. The sight of you stopped him in his tracks. You stood in the dimly lit kitchen, reaching for a glass of water. Your movements froze as you noticed him, your wide eyes mirroring his surprise. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Changbin’s teary eyes locked onto yours, his longing laid bare. You were the one he had missed more than words could ever express, and seeing you now, so close yet so distant, nearly broke him. “I... I’m so sorry,” he finally stammered, his voice quivering. “For the argument. For the awful things I said. I didn’t mean any of it.” He took a hesitant step closer, his eyes glistening with tears he could no longer hold back. His shoulders shook under the weight of his emotions, but he pressed on. “Please… don’t leave me.”

His voice cracked as he reached out, gently taking your hand in his. The familiar warmth of your touch sent a jolt through him, grounding him in a way nothing else could. His thumb brushed softly over your knuckles, a silent plea for forgiveness. “That day was stupid,” he admitted, his words tumbling out in a desperate rush. “Everything without you is stupid. I can’t think straight. My heart hurts so much, longing for you.” He tilted his head, his teary eyes searching yours for any sign of hope. “What should I do without you?” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Can we… can we try again? Please. Let me make it up to you. I’ll do anything—just don’t let this be the end.” For a moment, the room was filled with silence. Changbin held his breath, his heart suspended between despair and fragile hope. As his hand squeezed yours, his eyes pleaded with you. And in that stillness, he dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, you felt the same ache he did.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin sat on the edge of his bed, his phone resting in his trembling hands. The screen illuminated his face in the dimly lit room, his thumb hovering uncertainly over your contact. It had been two weeks since the breakup, and those fourteen days felt like a void swallowing him whole. He wanted to reach out, to see you, to explain everything, but his pride and fear kept him chained. The idea of showing up unannounced at your door was tempting, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he turned to his art, pouring his emotions onto blank pages as a silent plea to you. Every sketch he posted on social media held pieces of your story: your favorite flower, softly rendered in delicate lines; your favorite place, drawn with a wistful longing only he could convey; and little moments only you two shared, immortalized in graphite. They were messages without words, confessions without context, but still, you didn’t respond. Each day of silence cut deeper, leaving him questioning whether you even saw them or if you had chosen to ignore him altogether.

Tonight, the uncertainty became unbearable. His thumb hovered over your contact name once more, hesitating as doubts clouded his mind. What if you didn’t want to hear from him? What if he was only making things worse? But the ache in his chest pushed him forward. With a shaky breath, he finally typed out a message 'Can we talk?' He stared at the words for a long moment, his heart pounding as he debated whether to send them. When he finally hit the send button, relief and anxiety washed over him in equal measure. The message went through. You hadn’t blocked him—that alone was enough to spark a fragile hope. Emboldened, he typed again, his emotions spilling out 'About us. I want to explain myself… and I’m hoping you’ll give me a chance.' After hitting send, Hyunjin couldn’t sit still. He started pacing the room, his phone clutched tightly in his hand. Each passing second felt like an eternity, his mind racing through possibilities. Maybe you wouldn’t reply. Maybe you were done with him for good. Just as his resolve began to waver, his phone buzzed. He froze, staring at the screen as your reply appeared 'Come over.' Hyunjin didn’t waste a moment.

He grabbed his jacket and rushed out of his apartment, his heart pounding so loudly it drowned out the world around him. He ran down the street, barely remembering to slip on his shoes, his thoughts a chaotic blend of hope and fear. When he arrived at your door, he hesitated for just a moment before knocking. The door opened, and there you were. His breath hitched as your eyes met, the weight of the past two weeks settling between you. You stepped aside to let him in, and he entered slowly, his hands fidgeting at his sides as the door clicked shut. “I miss you,” he began, his voice cracking with raw emotion. His dark eyes, brimming with sincerity, searched yours. “And I’m sorry. Losing you—my anchor, my everything—was unbearable. I’ve been falling apart.” He stepped closer, his hands trembling as he clasped them together. “Can we… try again?” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I can’t let you go. You’re the one for me. Please, give me another chance.” His vulnerability lingered in the air, and for a moment, the silence felt infinite. But as you looked at him, his honesty and pain breaking through your defenses, the barriers between you began to crack.

[reality-detective]

How OPERATION SCARIANT 2023 is being used to launch Plandemic 2.0 Plandemic 2.o is an integral piece of the Great Reset implementation plan and New World Order agenda to be executed in earnest this Fall of 2023. OPERATION SCARIANT, which features the extremely ‘scary’ Omincron subvariant known as Eris, is the main show for folks who are still captivated by this ridiculous government-sponsored but extremely serious genocidal enterprise.

Nevertheless, there are numerous reasons why the Khazarian genocidal bioterrorists are hellbent on rolling out Plandemic 2.0 this Fall. The following list presents only some of the most significant NWO goals, WEF objectives and WHO targets. (1) To cover up the massive excess death numbers directly resulting from the ongoing Covid vaccine genocide across America (and global depopulation scheme)

(2) To stealthily kill vaccinated children who are now much more vulnerable to the bacterial infections associated with Eris (aka Omicron [B.1.1.529] a subvariant of SARS-CoV-2

(3) To intensify the slow-motion slaughter of vaccinated 20 to 45 year-olds who are now much more susceptible to myocarditis, pericarditis, blood clots and other fatal heart ailments

(4) To further turbo-charge the numerous medical ailments and health conditions, chronic diseases and autoimmune syndromes, psychological disorders and psychiatric illnesses across the entire population, all of which have seen HUGE upticks post-Covid vaccination

(5) To murder as many retirees as possible in order to reduce the Social Security & Disability, Medicare and Medicaid rolls

(6) To massacre as many individuals, who suffer from multiple comorbidities and/or terminal diseases, who are still living after Plandemic 1.0

(7) To eliminate as many Baby Boomers as possible as well as the Beat Generation elderly, especially the anti-establishment types

(8) To provide maximum distraction from the many Democrat crime sprees being investigated by the House

(9) To divert the attention of the electorate from the multiple crime waves perpetrated by the Biden Crime Family and especially by the POTUS Imposter and Criminal-in-Chief

(10) To create maximum chaos, confusion and conflict throughout the last year of the 2024 election cycle so that the Democrats can steal yet another POTUS election, as well as to set the stage for a long-planned American Bolshevik revolution

(11) To provide a pretext to deploy yet another highly weaponized and lethal Covid ‘vaccine’ by which to rapidly intensify Plandemic 2.0.

(12) To significantly supercharge the previously administered kill-shots, clot-shots and cancer-shots thereby increasing SADS and SIDS as well as excess deaths across the board

(13) To sufficiently scare the American people back into the same space of extreme fear and anxiety about the COVID-19 contagion so they will fully submit to the Covid Super Vaccination Agenda (and demand that everyone they know get vaxxed to the max)

- Benjamin Fulford 🤔

[isadollie]

— matchup —

(exchange)

for: @choclatecoveredlove <3

i match you with...

Leviathan!

★ here we have the absolute king of video games!! i'm sure he'll love to play with you, and get excited whenever he buys a new game cause that means more playing with his favourite human :P

★ Levi also loves animals, i mean, look at Henry 2.0, his best friend. oh and also Henry 1.0... but we don't talk about that. even though Henry 2.0 is a goldfish, i think Levi would love all animals and be pretty good at taking care of them :3

★ one of the reasons why i chose Levi for you is because you mentioned you dislike people who shame others for their interests. i think Levi knows it all too well, so it's very important to him when you show him your support

★ i think he would be very interested in your drawings, maybe you could convince him to draw something along with you! would probably ask you to draw a fanart for his favourite anime characters and obviously the one and only ruri chan

★ Levi himself is very anxious, therefore i have a feeling he would know how to help you whenever you feel unwell. he knows what makes him feel better, and he won't hesitate to help you too

★ the thing that made him fall for you in the first place was how you care about others' feelings. whenever he saw you being this considerate of others, his heart would beat a little faster

★ both of you are introverts, which also makes me think you'd be a good match for him! you don't need many people around you both all the time, just you and him. and Henry 2.0-

★ please let him choose your clothes!! he would be so so happy if he saw you wearing an outfit that he picked out. blushing levi: unlocked

hope you like it:3 thank you for doing an exchange with me~<3

[hermioneismyrealname]

My Stand in Ep 11. Ah the curse

OK. So this felt rushed. Do I care? Kinda. My entire rant below

Joe's mum got a letter exposing his relationship with Ming. I cringed. But then it was supposed to be resolved. "We'll go and see her this afternoon?" Did that happen off screen?

Then we have May being an absolute queen who deserves none of this shit.

Then the Mum. She was the one who sent the lawyer. I cant defend her but I do understand her desperate actions. But then she relents to the man when he gets to feed Ming. Love her dreaded face cause there was still hope in her face when that idiot gave Ming an ultimatum.

Speaking of that dinosaur. HAH! his face. His face. That was it. The conflict in his face. The fact that he wants his son to be happy but in HIS way is interesting. When Ming pulls two up on him and WINS is hilarious. He was so sure that Ming was the one who exploited his wealth the most (he isn't wrong), so to him, it WAS clear what the simple choice would be.

Oh YOU! older brother. I cannot wait for you to bring the secretary to the dinner table and give that geizer a heart attack. Please. But HIS ENTIRE CHARACTER IS CONSISTENT BUT HIS CHOICES ARE NOT! He was reluctant to let Joe near him. But relents when he hears what happens with Joe mum. "As an apology"? My guy, if you didnt do it why are you apologizing? Then it goes to him not believing Ming's belief that this is Joe. Ming hasnt eaten and has proven to be psychotic sober and stupid when drunk. I dont blame him for not believing him. I would have called quits if he didn't. Then one vomit spill later and he consults the wise cryptic man for advice. May i remind everyone how vague his answers are? How the hell did he get a straight answer that he was convince that was Joe 1.0 in Joe 2.0 body?

Next. Tong. Fuck you.

Following this was Sol. I do not like you. You give me an ick. You are the "Kawaii" but add the "-sou" and that is you, sol. But he is a friend.

Joe. Hey Joe. You good? Hah. You go into the light, man. You deserve it. And how was the cryptic man? did he save you from making a dumb mistake? Perhaps but why you had a montage in the third person in a cinematic lens, i'll never know. Also you getting shot? Predicatable. He is a heart of gold. But when Joe fell down the stairs, I cackled like a sanity deprived witch. PFt.

Now finally, Ming. YOU PSYCHO. YOU BRILLIANT LOVE SICK PSYCHO. So far, you did good. Kept beating your father at his own game. Won his mum over. Got his brother to break laws. Broke his sister's rose coloured glasses. He asked good questions like when will Joe stop being the good person. Then, he puts himself at risk for this stand-in. No notes, apart from that he should have punched Tong when he saw him at the studio.

That was a rushed episode. But i think with the run time they had, this was the best we would have gotten. There is still so much to cover in the 12th episode and not having a preview is a wild choice. A good one. This raises the stakes and keeps people on edge. Perhaps they will release it but it would be wise to keep things as a mystery since the trailer is already out there. This series has drastically changed from the book and I appreciate both separately. I've always had the opinion of keeping the book and the series separate. Pepsi is brilliant in keeping the beauty of the story while Up and Poom portray the characters with such detail. A whole series cannot be judged on a single episode that only lacks in a certain attribute - in this case, pacing.

I cannot wait for episode 12 and May's signature on the divorce papers. One thing though, if Tong gets to apologize, i want Mek to pull off so much patheticness that you can only feel pity. And if Joe does end up in a wheelchair, I want him to be drowning in money. Nope. None of this stuggle in poverty. Enough of that in real life. If switching souls exists, i want infinite money for the afflicted, too.

Welp thats my take.

[sunlightmurdock]

Safe Zone | 1.0 | Bradley Bradshaw / Jake Seresin x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: A team of elite naval aviators holding down the fort at the North Island Air Base while they wait for reinforcements after a virus sweeps the continental U.S. - only, it’s been three months and no one has shown up.

Warnings: gore, death, violence and pretty graphic mentions of all things zombie related, love triangle, smut (18+, minors dni), angst etc. smut, unprotected pinv, graphic violence at the end of the chapter

…

You had married Michael in a simple courthouse ceremony. You’d been dating a while, your careers were steady, he had gotten down on one knee at La Jolla and it had seemed like a sensible decision at the time. Everything back then was about sensible. After the childhood you had had, stability was your entire focus.

He was kind. He knew to refill your water bottle without you having to ask, and that you hated taking the trash out so he’d always make sure that was taken care of. He’d play with your hair for hours, cry at sad movies, sit with you until you laughed so hard that your stomach hurt.

He hadn’t deserved to die, but on the days that you can stand to be honest with yourself, you’re glad that he did. You’re glad that he died that first night. That he won’t ever have to know how bad it got, or how it’ll never get better.

Your legs stretch out across sheets soft enough to convince you that your leg might just brush his again, one last time. But the second you touch skin, you know that it’s not him. Michael always ran cold. This skin’s warm, you can practically see the pink flush that dusts it behind your eyelids. Nudging your leg closer to his, you budge experimentally closer, without daring to open your eyes.

His arm snakes around your waist and you draw into his chest, pressing your cheek into the soft flesh. It’s like the exhale is knocked out of you, relief flooding your core.

“Are you awake?” It’s muffled by his skin. His fingers skim your waist as he makes a sound of gruff confirmation. You feel the rumble in his chest against your cheek and press closer. It gets warmer quickly, too warm to be trapped under all of the covers but the feeling has grown all too unfamiliar for you to dare pull away from it.

“You were talking in your sleep.” Another rumble from within his chest as speaks this time, his voice deep with still deep with sleep, himself. You’re quiet, certain already of what he’ll ask next. It’s a sunny morning, sunny enough that you can tell without even having opened your eyelids yet. “Were you having a bad dream?”

He cards his hand tenderly over the top of your hair, surprisingly sweet. It catches you off guard, the tactful way he approaches the topic. Most men would be quick to ask why the hell you had spent all night mumbling another man’s name.

“Yeah.” You mumble against his chest. He squeezes tighter around your waist, resting his chin on top of your head. Inexplicably, your body makes the decision before your mind’s even there, hooking a leg around his waist. “Sorry if I kept you up.”

Bradley’s hand catches your leg, guiding it tighter around him, his large palm sliding from your knee to the hem of your shorts and back again. He squeezes the joint softly, pressing his chest closer to yours.

“The talking didn’t,” Amusement drenches his tone, his heart beating steadily against your cheek would be almost enough to lull you back to sleep if you weren’t so intrigued to see where he’s going with this. “You’re kind of an aggressive cuddler, though. Had to drop you back onto your side of the bed once or twice.”

“Shut up.” You scoff, pushing away from his chest finally and blinking at him. He smiles, his eyes flickering briefly between your eyes and your lips. You almost do it. It would be easy enough to do, just lean forwards and kiss his mouth softly.

But then all that you can see is that puddle of blood on the kitchen floor, hear the sickening gargling sound of someone choking on their own blood. But it’s not Michael, it’s Bradley. It’s a new loss this time.

You push away from him slowly, sitting up and shifting back until you’re not touching a single inch of him anymore. Bradley cranes his neck, trying to get a better look at your face. First, he thought you were just mean for the sake of being mean. Now, he’s onto you. You’re just scared.

Jake wakes up with a bad feeling in his stomach. He’s always had good intuition, it’s what made him a good pilot and it’s what got this place secure so quickly. He stands under the stream of his shower, knowing that this warm water will only last so long. Soap, toothpaste, air conditioning, electricity, ammo. It’s all finite. Admiral Caine knew that, he chose not to stick around long enough to see it go.

Now, that leaves them with a problem. They can only pretend that the guy is hiding in his office for so long. With quarantine in C Block ending today and still not a single answer for the people that live there, Jake knows well enough that trouble is coming.

He buckles his belt and steps out into the hallway, noticing that Bradley’s mud-covered boots are still set tidily outside of his door. He’s still in there, which means you are too. Jake just gives a shake of his head as he trails down the hallway. His hand rests on the pistol strapped to his hip, thumb grazing the safety.

Even after a morning cuddled up next to Bradley, it’s Jake that you wind up fucking once again. After the comment he had made about marriage yesterday, you roll up to your shift so pissed off that you’ll barely look at him, much less speak to him.

Jake doesn’t apologize either. You’re the one with something to hide, not him.

None of it matters when you’re on your back on the floor of the watchtower with his warm mouth working feverish kisses across your bare stomach, his fingers raking along the soft flesh of your thighs.

Your shoulder is hooked over the muscle of his shoulder and his mouth is working lower, lower, until he’s at eye-level with your still clothed core. This underwear is from the clothing store, which means that Bradshaw has really committed to the whole boyfriend act now — the idiot’s bringing you panties while Jake’s the one fucking you every day.

You inhale sharply as Jake presses his mouth to the soft cotton, his tongue trailing from your hole to your clit over the fabric. Moisture from his tongue and between your legs meet through the cotton, saturating it as his mouth works slowly.

He doesn’t stop until the material is spit-soaked and see through. Until your heel is pressing into his shoulder as you try to rock your core against his mouth. Until Jake’s confident that when Rooster tries to take your panties off tonight, they’ll still be wet.

Fucking Jake is the easy option. You know it’s the easy option. He’s an asshole, so you know you won’t get attached. If you lose him, it won’t be much of a loss at all.

Well, it will. Losing this will be a loss. Jake’s fingers curled tight around your hip and his soft groans right against your earlobe as he fucks into you. Dirty and hard, right on the floor of the watchtower.

Jake’s something you’ve never had before. He’s not the sensible choice. Maybe if you had known the sex would be this good, you never would have settled for sensible. There’s a moment where he takes a brief pause, and the sun’s just about high enough in the sky to be shining bright through the windows of the tower.

He skims his open palm along the warm flesh of your thighs and squeezes, exhaling slowly. As many times as you have been this close to his face, you’ve never quite noticed the way the freckles under his eyes form intricate constellations. His lashes have nothing on Bradley’s but his eyes always feel like they see right through you. It’s just that they’re pretty enough that you don’t mind.

He wets his lips with his tongue and sits back on his knees. The breath is forced out of you as he grabs your hips and maneuvers you closer, pressing deeper into you now that he’s upright. The muscles in his abdomen tighten as he rolls his hips slowly forwards, a stark contrast to the pace he had set before.

Your eyes flicker from his defined stomach up to the shining green of his eyes and he almost smiles.

“Say my name.” He grips your hips tighter, almost mean in the way that he does it. Your mouth twitches, then sets into a straight line. He leans over you, eyes darkening as the light shifts on his face. You gasp, hands reaching for purchase as he thrusts forwards sharply. “I said: say my name.”

“Hangman.” You bite back, knowing how much it gets under his skin to hear you say it. If only you knew that Rooster was the one to first call him it.

Jake’s lips quirk just slightly. You pretend that he can’t feel the way your walls squeeze around him when he’s smiling down at you like that. He gives a slow shake of his head, letting you know that you hadn’t answered correctly.

He rolls his hips slowly again, and then stills completely. Your eyes widen as you feel all hopes of your building orgasm start to ebb away.

“Say it.” Jake smiles down at you, flexing his hands around your hips. Your heart thuds in your chest and you’ll hate yourself for giving in later, but in the moment, there’s just no way you could deny.

“Jake,” You whimper out softly. He leans closer, pressing his fingertips hard into your hips. His eyes never falter from your face as he starts to rock his hips once again. “Jake. Fuck, Jake.”

He slides his hand around to cradle the base of your skull as he pulls you closer to him, picking up the pace. You whimper against his shoulder, sensitivity making you grip his bicep.

As much as he has the capacity to be an asshole, even after he made you cum on his face, he won’t send you back to Rooster without making sure he does it again. His palm presses tight over your mouth as you writhe under him, seeing stars, digging your nails into his thick shoulder.

He groans softly against your throat as he comes undone, swiftly pulling out, just in time to coat your stomach in ropes of cum. Your fingers smooth along the swell of his shoulder, up onto the nape of his neck. He stays there for just a moment, leaving lazy kisses against the curve of your neck.

Then, Jake turns and rolls onto his back beside you, closing his eyes as he tries to catch his breath.

“Fuck.” Jake breathes out. You hum at his side, eyes closed. He reaches out between the two of you. You’re quiet as he loops his fingers between yours.

There’s a moment of quiet between the two of you before he speaks up again. “I, uh… I pulled some strings. Got you tomorrow off if you want it.

You turn your head, blinking, to look at him.

“Figured you would want to spend some time with your mom and your brother after the quarantine.” He tells the ceiling rather than you, but that’s okay. The second that you drop his hand, he feels you sit up. The first thought that crosses his mind is that he must have pissed you off and you’re about to leave.

Instead, you rest your palm gently against his bare chest, lean forwards and kiss his lips.

“Thank you. That’s really kind of you.”

Tonight’s the last night of quarantine. Tomorrow, you’ll be keeping him at arms’ length again. Rooster has spent all day thinking about last night. He can’t help but wonder if you mumble Michael’s name in your sleep every night.

More importantly, he can’t help but wonder who the hell Michael is. An ex-boyfriend, probably. The pain in your voice suggests something more.

Either way, he’s trying not to let it get to him. Holding you in his arms while you mourned another man. He’s silent for once as he walks between posts, making sure that everyone’s where they are supposed to be.

His boots thud rhythmically along the tarmac, his hands pushed deep into his pockets. He hasn’t noticed yet, but his watch has stopped ticking. Despite the ocean being right there, the birds aren’t singing. Like the sky itself knows what’s about to happen.

Static crackles on the radio. Rooster slows, waiting for the message to come through. He’s met with silence. Enough silence to make him realize exactly how quiet it is. It’s 3pm — and the courtyard is empty. There’s not a single person here. He looks around him, turning in a slow circle. No one.

More static follows. Finally, a cracking message breaks through.

“Rooster, Coyote! Anyone?”

Rooster’s eyes blow wide open. He snatches the walkie from his hip as he takes off running. It’s Logan’s voice, which means the disturbance is by the armory.

“We need backup here, now!” Logan begs over the channel, his voice strained and fearful. Rooster picks up the pace, running towards the action in long strides.

Even from as far away as he is, once he rounds that corner, he can see the huge crowd of people that has gathered around the armory. This area is off limits to citizens, there’s a — gate.

He turns his head to blink at it over his shoulder, no time to examine. The padlock has been smashed, or snapped. Broken either way, and the gate’s wide open.

“Thomas, just calm down, man!” Bradley can hear Logan pleading over the silent crowd. He’s faintly aware of Coyote sprinting behind him, but Bradley doesn’t wait as he starts to shove his way through the crowd.

“He’s gone! Nothing fucking matters, no one’s coming!” Another man’s voice bites back. Bradley shoves through. Thomas. Tall, dark hair, always has had purple bags under his eyes. He’s got one hand curled around the door to the armory, and a knife in his dominant hand, pointed towards Logan.

Rooster’s eyes widen as he looks between Logan and Thomas. Thomas hasn’t even spotted him yet, too busy trying to break in. But he’s talking about Admiral Caine, which is not something that shy Thomas from the breakfast crew has clearance to hear about.

“Thomas.” Bradley starts cautiously, but his hand flies to the gun on his hip, his finger on the safety. It’s then that Bradley shoots a look over at Logan, who has lost all colour and is trembling against the wall. Rooster finally notices.

The empty holster on Logan’s right side. The black handle sticking out of Thomas’ belt as he turns slowly around. He stole it.

“What’s the matter?” Bradley doesn’t acknowledge the stealing, or the bloodied man behind his shoulder. The crying children in this crowd. The trembling adults. The look in Thomas’ eye that sends a chill along Bradley’s spine.

“You here to try to stop me?” Thomas challenges. Rooster narrows his eyes. The crowd is just growing. No one dares to lunge for the crazy guy with the gun. The sun is hot overhead. There’s no breeze today.

“You know I can’t let you go in there,” Rooster tries. He raises his hands in defense and takes a cautious step forwards. “It’s against the rules.”

“Caine’s gone, asshole, there are no rules anymore.” Thomas grins, eyes unfocused, swaying just slightly like he’s moving with the wind. He lifts the bottle and takes a long drink. Rooster’s head tilts just slightly, looking straight ahead at the man in front of him. Joining the back of the crowd, Jake cranes his neck to look around. It’s on everyone’s faces all at once.

“What did he just say? — Admiral Caine’s gone?” More and more murmurings. Bradley’s eyes remain focused, steadfast, but his hands clench into fists as his sides. No one is supposed to know. Simpson hasn’t given them other orders yet.

Bradley takes a slow step forwards and Thomas takes a stumbling step back, laughing to himself loudly. “Hit me, Rooster! — Who’s gonna check you for it? — What’s it matter? — We’re all fucking dead anyway!”

That’s why he wants to get into the armoury. He thinks that everyone’s going to die, and he wants to make sure that everyone takes the easy way out.

Rooster checks around. There’s a little girl to his left, younger than Amelia had been, which is his gauge for all kids nowadays, she’s got tears in her eyes, grabbing onto her mother’s hand.

“We’re all going to fucking die. We’ll run out of supplies, or the dead will come, or these fuckers will start killing us one by one!” Thomas screams into the crowd. His head is red, hair drenched in sweat, his movements jerky.

Still, Rooster continues forwards, grabbing two fistfuls of Thomas’ shirt and shaking him, “Shut up, shut the fuck up.”

He can’t let this happen. The murmuring is still happening behind him. He can hear children crying. Tugging at their mother’s sleeves, asking if that’s true.

“If Caine’s gone, then who’s in charge?” Another person asks from the crowd. A guy that Rooster has already had problems with before. He knows that trouble is coming. Thomas’ smile grows.

“Rooster.” Phoenix warns, taking a step towards the collision about to happen in front of her. It’s too late. Thomas is seconds from getting that door open. As Bradley’s footsteps grow closer, Thomas grabs the handle of his stolen gun and turns to look once more.

“We’re all going to fucking die! What does any of it matter?” Thomas barks out. Wailing begins behind him. Amongst it, Bradley can hear as small voice asking if that’s true.

Roooster’s knuckles whiten around Thomas’ t-shirt. Swiftly, Rooster lifts all hundred pounds of him off of the ground. There’s a second where Thomas has time to scramble, his feet inches from the ground, before Rooster uses all of his weight and slams his scrawny body into the concrete. There are a few gasps. The thud is sickening, Thomas stops moving for a second. Joe flinches, turning his head away.

“Shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you, kid.” Bradley spits, pressing Thomas harder into the ground as the younger guy writhes in pain under him. Once again, Thomas opens his mouth. Jake’s fist hits him square in the tip of his nose, knocking his head back and slamming it hard into the floor. Again, over and over.

“Rooster.” Jake starts, abandoning you beside him and rushing forwards. “Rooster, stop, you’re gonna kill him.”

Thomas stops moving, going limp against the floor. Close enough know to see the blood pouring out of Thomas’ nose, Jake hesitates, certain that he has just allowed these people to witness an execution. It takes a while, but Thomas’ chest begins to rise and fall with deep, slow breaths.

“Show’s over.” Rooster calls out, pushing himself up from the ground. “Everybody go home.”

Tags:

@momc95 @shawnsblue @thedroneranger @cherrycola27 @zbeez-outlet @harper1666 @abaker74 @xoxabs88xox @cowboybarbie @shanimallina87 @ohtobeleah @top-gun-rooster @blue-aconite @laracrofted @bioodforbiood @kmc1989

[theotherbuckley]

Oooh 🥵🥵🥵 and 💔💔💔 for the mmw!! 💚

As you wish!

🥵 - Eddie goes back in time and meets Buck 1.0

This is the angstier side of the PWP which has become P with P:

He opens his eyes and he’s standing outside the hospital he knows Buck’s at. His watch is cracked on his wrist. His arms feel fatigued, no doubt from the workout he got from getting Buck’s heart beating. He can practically feel the ribs cracking under his hands, he has to clench his fists at the memory. Close his eyes tight to now let the tears fall. 

He walks inside. 

The lights are too bright.

He keeps walking anyway.

His hands are shaking.

He walks until he finds himself outside Buck’s room. 

He looks as small as he did in his dream — he thinks it was a dream. But there’s no ventilator attached to him. For a moment his heart stutters in his chest as he thinks that he’s just too late, but then he sees Buck’s chest rise and fall, steady and alive.

Because of course he’s alive, he’s a fighter.

💔 - healing fic

By the time they get back to the Grant-Nash household, Christopher has fallen asleep in the backseat with Eddie stroking his hair.

Athena ushers them all inside, stopping briefly to give Buck a hug. Buck melts into her embrace. He doesn’t even know why he couldn’t leave his room. He missed her. Even after just a week. He’s so glad Bobby and Athena are in his life. He’s so grateful.

It makes him feel guilty again, knowing how much they’re doing to help him. How he’s taken their hospitality and lived off their meals, all whilst hiding away in a room that’s not even his. 

He stops himself from spiralling because he can’t right now. Eddie needs him to be strong, needs him to be whole and fixed, as much as he can be. So he cuts off his line of thinking, and focuses on getting Eddie and Chris set up. 

[lovevalley45]

#fictober24 - day nine

"Is this normal?"

fandom: dc's legends of tomorrow

word count: 815

a/n: just in case it wasn't clear, zee is zari 1.0 and zari is zari 2.0... having characters who are literally the same person from different timelines is so confusing for modern AUs!!

Astra had heard enough about the Tarazis to know she would be in over her head when they invited her to dinner. 

"You'll love them," Behrad told her. "Nate and Zee are great." 

"Right. I'm sure I will." She'd grown up an only child, and certainly not with a pair of twin older sisters who were different in every way - aside from looking eerily identical, that was. Astra had met Zari Tarazi - the Zari Tarazi, influencer and surprisingly easy to get along with - a few times, since she also lived in California. 

But Zee and Nate lived in Seattle, doing whatever a white-hat hacker and historian did to keep themselves busy. Visits from them could be rare, which meant she hadn't yet met the third Tarazi sibling.

That changed tonight. 

As they walked up the steps of Zari's mansion, Astra was more worried than she thought she'd be. What if they hated her on principle? What if Zari had made too many jokes about her being Behrad's sugar mama and they'd think he deserved better?

Behrad knocked on the door before she had too much time to spiral. They barely had to wait before the door swung open to reveal a buff white man with too much hair gel and a giant smile. '

"Nate, buddy!" Behrad opened his arms wide for Nate to give him a hug. 

Astra raised her eyebrows. "Should I be jealous?" 

"Maybe," he admitted, pulling away. "Nate, this is Astra. My girlfriend." The way he grinned, both wide yet sheepish, made her feel all warm inside. "Astra, this is Nate." 

"Hey." Nate held out a hand - thankfully not going in for the hug. "B's told me all about you." 

Astra had also heard a lot about Nate: he had a PhD in history and the random facts up his sleeve to prove it, that he used to be Behrad’s stoner buddy before he moved to be closer to Zee, but most importantly, that he was a giant sweetheart. She didn't doubt that last point as she shook his hand. "It's nice to finally meet you." 

“Ooh, strong handshake,” he said. “Come on in, Zee and Zari are in the kitchen reportedly getting together some snacks for us to munch on while we let B do the real cooking.” 

“Tell me; why didn’t we just host this at my apartment again?” Astra asked, following him inside.  

“Because you hate having company,” Behrad said. 

That was true. It wasn’t that she hated having people in her space, it was - actually, it was exactly that. 

“Better than your place,” Nate teased, with a shrug. 

“Hey, I clean,” he said. “My kitchen is spotless.”

“And your bathroom?” Astra asked. 

Behrad spun on his heel towards the kitchen. “Let’s see how Zee and Zari are doing, shall we?” 

Nate turned to Astra with a conspiratorial grin. “Been that way since we were roommates.” 

She shuddered. “I hope you’ve improved your quality of living since then?” 

“Yeah. Helps when I’m living with the Tarazi sibling who sheds the least.” 

Behrad had beat them to the kitchen by the time they came in, right at the heart of… whatever siblings got up. Zee was sitting on the counter, taking nuts from the snack tray Zari was trying to assemble as their brother puttered around the kitchen. The three of them were too busy to notice Nate and Astra approaching the doorway.

“Seriously, how am I supposed to prep dinner when you’re both all in my space?” Behrad was asking. 

“Don’t mind B, he’s just nervous about us making a good impression on his little girlfriend,” Zari told Zee. “Stop stealing my almonds.” 

“No one else is gonna eat them,” she said. “It’s gonna be fine. We won’t scare her off.” 

Zari pulled the snack tray out of Zee’s reach. “You sure you aren’t going to hit her with the ‘if you hurt my brother, I’ll kill you’ routine?”

She stretched over to try and snag another almond. “I thought you had that covered.” 

Behrad turned from where he had looped an apron over his nice clothes. Astra was momentarily distracted by how hot and domestic he looked in an apron to miss what he was saying, only catching, “...so embarrassing, oh my God.” 

Zee jumped off the counter. “We’re your older sisters. That’s what we do.” 

Zari turned to face him, pinching his cheek. “Yeah, B.” 

“Seriously, guys-” He tried to push Zari away gently, but soon found himself dogpiled by the twins. 

“Is this normal?” Astra whispered to Nate. 

“Totally.” He sized her up. “You an only child?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Me too. It takes some getting used to.” Nate patted her shoulder. “Welcome to the family.” 

As he stepped forward to join in the joshing, Astra smiled to herself. She was definitely in over her head with this bunch. But she found she didn’t mind it too much.

[wixhing0nastar]

Thinking back on what The Blacksmith was saying in the final about how one of the joys of creation is not knowing how what you create will grow and change and thinking about how the GoD took magic from Remnant and the GoL told Ozma they’d only return and “make Humanity whole again” or whatever after he completed his arbitrary task but like...Humanity 2.0 already has magic, it just doesn't work like magic did when the brothers were still on Remnant.

Like, in any other fantasy media, Semblances and Aura would automatically be dinged as magic in an, admittedly unique, magic system, with Dust acting as a magical energy source. But because Ozma and Salem grew up in a world with "real" magic, Remnant's magic isn't recognized for what it is in universe.

Because unlike the magic the Gods bestowed on Humanity 1.0, which is a well of energy they are linked to thanks to the GoD... Humanity 2.0′s magic is Soul Magic. Something they evolved on their own that’s intrinsically linked to who they are as a person.

Semblances are based on the individual and Semblances grow and evolve with them, as they come to better understand themselves and the world around them. Aura on the other hand is a physical manifestation of a person’s soul. Something that can be broken (though only temporarily) and when a person’s soul is in need of repair... they can’t use their magic. Because Humanity 2.0′s magic is that tied into their soul.

And Humanity 2.0′s magic is inherently made stronger by working together as a team, especially with people you love and trust. Team RWBY is able to beat the Ace Ops with little issue because all four of them, and their magic, is working together in harmony. Meanwhile, WBY struggles in the Ever After despite it, on the surface level, being a lot less dangerous than Remnant because one of them is out of lockstep with the others... an issue that’s fixed the second Ruby has repaired her broken soul heart.

And based on canon evidence, Humanity 2.0′s magic isn’t really all that weaker than Humanity 1.0′s is/was. Like, if it weren’t for her being immortal and him reincarnating (things there were not normal for Humanity 1.0)... Salem and the various Oz’s would be strong but beatable opponents. I mean... Hazel was able to single handily land what would have been killing blows on Salem if she wasn’t immortal during his fight against her.

And also like... try showing someone who’s never seen RWBY before these screenshots and ask them which ones aren’t “real” magic...