#hes still gonna fail to save what matters most in the end

[upset-to-dead]

I'm genuinely confused as to why people are so upset about Percy getting 4 pearls. Is it not obvious that he'll lose one? It would be weird as hell for Posideon to give him 3 and be the reason he has to choose.

It makes more sense that Posideon would try to help Percy acheice his goal AND get his mother back. And it's gonna be even more gut wrenching when one of the pearls gets lost or broken and we watch his hope fade in real time.

[femslashspuffy]

Ok one more thing

I am not doing great after this one

[paarksunghoon]

resignation | sunghoon

SUMMARY: For the last six years, you’ve dedicated your career to ensuring Park Sunghoon never misses a day of work in his life. But you’re tired of endless days that seem to blend together, and seeing him living his fun, luxurious lifestyle makes you think about what else you might be missing out on. When Sunghoon finds your resignation letter on his desk, he does everything in his power to convince you to stay.

NOTES: desperately need to rant about my life and I’m doing it by way of enhypen 😩 this is a small little chapter and I have no idea if I’m gonna make this a whole thing, but we’ll see. enjoy for now and let me know your thoughts! xx

WARNINGS: none :)

SERIES PLAYLIST + SERIES MASTERLIST

***

Like a bird stuck in a metal cage, you feel trapped in an enclosure that’s meant to prevent you from flying away. That’s what it feels like to work at Park Inc., an international venture capitalist firm that serves Asia and the greater North American and European landscape. Your job is boring and meaningless, and today is the day you decided to do something about it. 

Your alarm rings every morning at 5 A.M. on the dot and today is no exception. Since becoming Park Sunghoon’s assistant six years ago, you’ve learned the masterful art of never hitting snooze after hearing an earful from Sunghoon himself when he requested your presence the following hour (you failed to arrive in time and learned to never go back to sleep unless it was your day off). 

This life seemed like a dream at the ripe age of twenty-one. Freshly graduated from college with no real career goal in mind, one of your academic mentors suggested entering the workforce as a personal assistant to gain social capital and learn about different areas of industry that could potentially lead you towards a career. Your measly business degree left you feeling unfulfilled and your parents’ aloof demeanor towards the lack of job offers lining up after graduating wasn’t the kind of news you were ecstatic about. You jumped at the chance to work as a personal assistant with the assumption that it would be the kind of job that you could pursue in the meantime until something else came along.

This position at Park Inc. fell into your lap like some kind of dumb luck. The role wasn’t posted on any job site. Rather, your name had been submitted on behalf of your academic advisor, which got you your first interview. You suppose that must be some kind of nepotism. After six separate interviews over the course of three months, the job was yours.

You’d saved up enough money, working the night shift at a local restaurant to afford a rundown apartment and a new office-appropriate wardrobe from the local second hand stores in your neighborhood. Pencil skirts, fashionable blouses, heels that promised to last a long time, and blazers that looked professional enough lined your closets for future use. It was an exciting prospect and starting your new life after graduating university felt like a different ball park than when you were still pursuing your degree. 

Despite all of that, you feel listless.

Your days begin before the sun rises and ends just after sunset. Anticipating Sunghoon’s needs is seamless for you, to the point where you’re able to think on his behalf without second guessing yourself. He agrees on most days and doesn’t put up much of a fight when it comes to business matters because you’ve been by his side for over half a decade. You’ve picked him up from many late night rendezvous with women who definitely wanted more than he was willing to give, and you’ve accompanied him to events where he couldn’t bother asking somebody to be his date. You’re his assistant, and therefore you’re always available. 

But you’re just the help. You don’t have any real stake in Park Inc., nor does anybody take you seriously unless Sunghoon agrees with your opinion. You know this company inside and out, and you know exactly how Sunghoon envisions this company to succeed. You act like you’re a managing partner without the title because you’re by his side nearly every hour of the day, and it’s gotten to a point where people me either whisper about a silent affair, or look at you with sympathy because Sunghoon can’t seem to function without you. 

It was fun, at first. Learning how to stand on your own two feet while leaving everything you knew behind felt exhilarating. Abandoning your hometown to explore the big city was a dream come true, and you envisioned all of the late night food runs you’d go on in an attempt to explore each neighborhood within Seoul. The beginning was tolerable at best—if you count crying in your small apartment after thinking you’d never get the hang of this job—and Sunghoon knew to delegate tasks to you based on experience level. He had you fetch coffee and take care of his dry cleaning in the first few months, on top of organizing multiple reports until you were ready for more. He was kind like that, and you’re sure his willingness to help you in your career was why you stayed for as long as you have. 

Six years ago, receiving the amount of responsibility you carry felt like you’d reached the top of the tallest mountain after dreaming of the day Sunghoon could trust you enough to let you do your job without much supervision. You could complete a task for him before he delegated it to you, because you understood his workflow and what needed to be prioritized. The both of you worked well like that, and after six years of getting to know each other, many would say you’re both joined at the hip professionally. 

It comes to a point where you learn that the Sunghoon you see is far different than the Sunghoon everybody else sees. He’s naturally funny and a bit clumsy. He’s professional and stoic when he needs to be, but behind closed doors, Sunghoon laughs your ear off about old men who think they can walk all over his business tactics and people who are too rich to see that they’re the problem. Sunghoon is the best boss you’ve ever had, bar none. 

He’s unlike any of the wealthy, stuck up assholes you deal with on a daily basis. Sunghoon hides his witty, flirty personality behind a professional face in the eyes of higher ups and investors who he does business with. He keeps his personal and work life separate, as far as he can, with the exception of occasionally letting women he meets accompany him to select events that almost always end up in having to kick them out of his penthouse apartment the morning after if they haven’t left already. His lifestyle is one you’ll never get used to. Even after six years working beside Sunghoon, you go back to your humble one bedroom apartment, the same one you moved into once you were able to afford living without any roommates. 

It seems as though life moves for Sunghoon. He doesn’t have to do or say much to get people to fall to their knees or grant his every wish. He’s good looking (that’s something you’ll never deny because he’s objectively handsome), he manages to say all the right things, and he’s really good at his job. Sunghoon comes from a powerful and wealthy family that’s existed in Seoul for as long as anyone can remember, and there aren’t many bad things people say about him behind his back. He’s risky but strategic, gambling on chances that would typically slip through the cracks if not for his watchful eye and modern approach to business. 

You’ve learned a lot from him, too. Sunghoon grew into the man he is today. He’s no longer the overly arrogant and cocky person he was when you first met him, and he’s gained a deeper understanding of the company he’s about to inherit once his father transitions his title unto him. There’s much to be said about powerful men who choose to view everybody he works with as an equal, and while you might legally be his personal assistant, Sunghoon has allowed you to partake in the business too. You’ve been his right hand man ever since he realized you knew the company as well as he did. Yet, you can’t help but feel utterly stuck in this endless cycle of work, work, and more work.

There must be something out there for you that doesn’t consist of answering emails and letting your inbox pile up until the stress eats you alive. Being able to travel alongside Sunghoon for business opportunities has granted you a pathway to see the world, but it’s not enough to accompany somebody else. You want to explore the world by yourself and create agendas for your taste and likeliness, not Sunghoon or potential business partners while you sit in the back and take notes during every conversation. You want to live your life without being chained to a desk and learn what it feels like to try something new. 

For the past six years, your life has been dedicated to Sunghoon and only Sunghoon. 

“Sir?” You say tentatively, knocking on his door while pushing the heavy wooden door open. 

“Come in.” 

You know well enough he’s got nothing on his schedule that would impose a distraction. You slip into the room and close the door behind you with your fingers gripping a beige Manila folder behind your back. Sunghoon wears a suit that’s tailored to his likeness and his hair is slicked back like he’s trying to resemble Patrick Bateman from American Psycho. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure of an unscheduled interruption?” Sunghoon asks with humor in his tone. He knows you typically keep to your inbox unless something is imminently urgent.

He turns around from looking outside of his window and watches as you hesitantly walk towards his desk. The office space is huge, bigger than your entire living room, and the sudden realization that you’re about to make the biggest change of your life is weighing on your shoulders. Your feet feel heavy beneath you when Sunghoon glances between your face and the folder in your hands. 

“What’s this?”

You don’t hesitate to open it and put it on his desk facing up.

“My resignation letter.” 

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Sunghoon stares at the letter you’ve typed out and notices the large, black signature at the bottom of the page. His eyes flicker back at you as if to detect any lie in your face before he scoffs with a short laugh.

“Right. April Fool’s Day has already passed. No need to keep me on my toes like you usually do, though I appreciate a good joke.” 

You shake your head. “I’m being serious, Sir. I’m quitting.” 

The seriousness of your voice seems to catch him. He takes a seat on his leather chair and pulls himself closer to the desk to fully examine the letter.

“Dear Mr. Park, I am writing to inform you that I will be resigning from my position as your personal assistant at Park Incorporated. My final day will be two months from the day I hand you this resignation letter. I am committed to ensuring a smooth transition, and will facilitate seeking a replacement while I complete projects and tasks on my docket.” 

He looks up at you.

“You’re breaking up with me.” 

“No, I’m quitting this job.”

“Which is the same as breaking up with me. You’re my business partner, for God’s sake. You come with me to every meeting and important event that requires my presence.”

“I’m your assistant. There are many people who would die to be able to do that for you.”

He looks at you like you’ve set his office on fire. “I will not let you quit.” 

You tilt your head. “That’s not how it works, you know. Soobin from HR will process my resignation, even if you beg him not to. I’m giving you a two months' notice because that is how much I value my time here.” Sunghoon clasps his hands as if trying to make sense of the matter.

“But why? Why now? You’re impeccable at your job. Is the pay not suitable enough for you? I can give you a generous bonus and pay raise, if that will convince you to stay. Do you want a bigger office or reduced working hours?” 

“I don’t need any of that. I’ve made up my mind, Sir.”

“Why?” 

With a sigh, you sit down in front of him. “I’ve spent nearly every day for the last six years catering to the needs of you and this company. I’ve loved my time here, and I credit my ability to navigate this industry to you and this job. You’ve given me incredible opportunities that I probably wouldn’t have gotten elsewhere, and it’s been fun learning the ins and outs of this business.

“But I don't have a personal life at all. My days are spent catering to your needs. I don’t have many friends aside from the people I see in this building. I don’t travel and I’ve had to miss important family milestones because of work obligations.”

“Is more time off what you need?” Sunghoon interrupts. “You’ve earned your fair share of requested time offs, even if it’s a personal day for no reason. You’re responsible enough for me to know you can handle your workload when you get back.” 

You shake your head. “It’s not just that. I…I don’t meet new people anymore. I don’t make new friends and I don’t date because this job eats up my life. I feel like I’ve been wrapped up in this company and doing whatever it takes to help it succeed while neglecting my own needs. I’ve had six incredible years, but it’s time for me to move on.”

“…Date?”

With a sigh, you respond. “Yes, Sir. Just because you can find women at the snap of your fingers doesn't mean that everybody else can too.” 

“You don’t date at all?”

You scratch the inside of your wrist at his question. “I can’t date. I don’t have the time to.”

“So you’re quitting because you want to date.”

“No. I’m quitting because I want to experience life without being on call for when you need my help.” 

Sunghoon purses his lips and you can’t read his expression. In the years you’ve worked with him, learning his every mood has been critical to maintaining cordial balance between the two of you, and with other people who Sunghoon isn’t particularly fond of. You’ve extinguished emotional fires just by glancing at him, but the way he looks at you is something you can’t seem to figure out. 

While you wouldn’t say you’re exceptionally close with Sunghoon, you’d argue your relationship to him is far closer than other assistants in the firm. He might be hard headed and stubborn, but he’s compassionate and understanding. He doesn’t expect you to stay in the office until he leaves unless explicitly stated (which consists of half the week, but you can’t complain when some of your colleagues are constantly working longer days than you). 

He compensates you well from time to time, buying you new wardrobe for events he’s requested you to be at. You have a drawer full of exquisite jewelry. You’ve had the privilege of accompanying him on international business trips. From the outside, your life looks like one glamour shot that’s been afforded to you through diligent work, which is partially true, but seldom do people see the dark circles underneath your eyes or how many meals you skip because you need to cater to Sunghoon’s needs. 

For as lucky as your career has been thus far, it’s all on company time, and nothing is ever because you want to. You get the perks, but it’s a transaction. There’s nothing you want more than the freedom to choose what time you wake up and what time you go to bed.

“I can’t say I’m too happy with this news,” Sunghoon says as he leans back on his chair. “You and I work together really well. I don’t think I’ve ever had an assistant as diligent and as smart as you.” 

“You had three assistants before I came into the picture.” 

“They were terrible. Why did you think you went through six interviews?” 

“I can train my predecessor to be as excellent as I can be. I can do it in two months because that’s the time it took me to get used to you and your habits.” 

Sunghoon remains silent for a moment. 

“They’ve got big shoes to fill.” 

Part of you thinks he’s accepted your resignation. He doesn’t immediately grab the Manila folder with the papers in it. Rather, he closes it and keeps it shut on his desk with his hands clasped like he’s afraid it’s going to materialize and escort you out of his office.  

“You’re still needed for events and other internal-facing meetings until your time comes to an end.” 

“Of course, Sir.”

The corner of his mouth tugs upwards. “There’s one tonight. I wasn’t going to have you come to this one initially, but given the circumstances, I think it’s fair that we squeeze in as many as possible before you’re off the hook, no?”

You can’t say you’re incredibly excited by the idea, but knowing Sunghoon, he’s either forgotten he needs someone to act as arm candy or one of his many flings bailed on him at the last minute. 

“I’ll have my car pick you up from your apartment at 8 P.M. Don’t worry about checking in early tomorrow, either. Come in at nine instead, and get some sleep tonight.” 

Nine is still early, especially if you’re going to accompany Sunghoon to an event this evening, but it’s better than getting four hours of shut eye before you’re needed the next day. 

***

A section of your wardrobe is dedicated to items Sunghoon has gifted you throughout the years you’ve been with him. They’re far more expensive and of higher quality than the garments you buy for yourself, and the jewelry is far too precious for you to mix in with your everyday wear. They sit in their own designated section, away from your business attire and weekend wear.

Back when you started this position, Sunghoon found it amusing that you refused the luxurious gifts he’d offer for large tasks such as acting as a liaison at black tie events or helping him with projects that required you to look more presentable than remaining in an office. He bought you enough dresses, shoes, and jewelry until you were able to rotate a few pieces so that you’d never have to wear the same thing twice in a row. To assuage your mind about the prices of each item, Sunghoon would tell you to wear it out on a date with a special someone or to important events that required you to dress up a bit.  

When you pull out a sleek baby blue powder dress that hugs your body in all the right places and jewelry to match, the memory makes you laugh. There hasn’t been any time for engaging in those types of things and your life does not reflect that of Sunghoon’s. They gather dust in your closet until you’re needed to make an appearance as his well-trained, capable assistant. His colleagues know to defer to you unless Sunghoon’s word needs to be confirmed, and that’s how the dynamic has been for the entirety of your working relationship with him. 

You don’t put much effort into your appearance tonight. After touching up your makeup and slipping on a pair of black sling backs that match a black Italian clutch purse he had gifted you on your first international trip, you wait for the car to arrive at your doorstep. 

Surprisingly, Sunghoon steps out from the backseat and holds the door open for you.

“…Sir?” 

“Right on time. You look stunning.” 

His compliment flies over your head as you try to make sense of what you’re seeing. You’re used to meeting Sunghoon at the fairgrounds and not holding the door open for you in his personal mode of transportation. The only time the two of you arrive together is when you depart from the office. Sunghoon is a busy man who makes work his priority. He doesn’t escort you from place to place. That’s your job.

“What are you doing here?” 

He beckons you inside of the car. The partition is raised to give the two of you some privacy. Sunghoon slides into the backseat and puts a respectable distance between the two of you when the driver begins to drive away.

“It dawned on me that I rely you on you for so many things, and yet, I can’t seem to take an hour of my day to ride with you to events I’ve asked you to be at.” 

“It’s my job.”

“No, your job is to make sure I don’t lose my head.”

“If letting you work while I drive alone makes your head stay on your shoulders, I think that’s a job well done.” 

He purses his lips. “Still, I don’t think ending my workday early to pick you up will kill me.” You raise your eyebrow at him.

“This isn’t changing my mind, Sir. I still plan to leave the company.”

Sunghoon shrugs. “Worth a try. But I meant what I said about accompanying you. We’re a team, even if your position is just my assistant.”

“Sir—”

“Sunghoon,” he interrupts. “Call me Sunghoon.”

“...Sunghoon.” He smiles.

“That’s more like it.” 

***

will there be a part 2? who knows

[steddieas-shegoes]

“any regrets? anything you’d do differently?”

eddie knows the interviewer is just doing her job, probably doesn’t even realize that’s the worst question she could ask. but the guys tense and the air gets thick and something shifts inside eddie’s chest.

“it’s been two years and i still haven’t apologized.”

the interviewer doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about, but she doesn’t need to. he’s not gonna explain more than that and he doesn’t care if people make their own connections and excuses.

maybe steve will hear it. maybe robin will. maybe dustin will convince steve to call him.

or maybe he was cryptic for nothing and steve will keep ignoring his calls. he used to think his timing sucked until mike let it slip that he lets all calls go to his answering machine to avoid picking up when eddie calls him.

eddie only calls on bad nights, if he’s drunk or high, or sometimes on the nights that could only be better if steve was by his side. eddie calls most nights.

the interview is done and eddie is being whisked away, getting berated by their publicist about his answer to a question that can never have a good one. the guys are pretending not to listen, but failing. eddie loves them for trying.

the next interview, he stays quiet, at least as much as he can get away with. he fakes a smile, a laugh, whatever it takes to seem like he didn’t just admit that he fucked up on live television.

they get to sleep in their own beds tonight, but tomorrow is the start of their radio show tour to promote their album. it’ll be two weeks long, hitting the major stations daily until they’ve answered all the hard hitting questions like if gareth snores or if they ever find time to eat healthy on tour.

but his bed is his least favorite place to sleep, and no amount of tossing and turning is gonna give him what he needs.

so he calls steve.

“harrington’s house, you’ve reached the harrington who actually lives here.”

eddie’s so shocked that steve answered he barely even registers his words.

“hello?” steve’s voice turns serious. “anyone there?”

“stevie?”

eddie shouldn’t have started with that, but he wasn’t in control of his body anymore.

steve hangs up.

somehow it’s worse than if he hadn’t answered at all.

but eddie is fine. he is.

he’s gonna close his eyes and go to sleep and maybe not dream about dying or fucking up the only good thing he ever had.

his phone rings and he’s almost certain he’s dreaming already.

“hello?”

“sorry i panicked.”

steve’s voice is like a reverb in an arena, sending chills down eddie’s arms.

“you’re not the only one.”

“but…you called me.”

“because you never answer.”

“so why call? if i’m never gonna answer.”

“because if you do answer, i can hear your voice.”

steve sits with that answer for a minute before he speaks.

“dustin played me the interview.”

“yeah.”

“was it me? was i your regret?”

how could steve think that? how could the man who saved his life ever believe he was anything less than a gift? in no universe would eddie regret steve.

“no. my regret is making you ever think that you could be a mistake.”

eddie should end it there, let steve marinate with that. he knows no amount of apologies will actually help, but he could give it a try anyway.

“i’m sorry i left when you needed me. i’m sorry i was selfish and chose to get out and leave you behind. and i’m sorry none of my sorries even matter because it’s too late.”

for a minute—yes, eddie counts— there’s silence. and then there’s a small shuffling sound and eddie’s almost sure that steve’s gonna hang up.

instead, steve sounds like he’s holding back tears when he speaks.

“are you gonna come back?”

eddie can’t. he can’t just put a pause on the band or any of their plans. it’s not fair to the guys or the fans or himself.

but he can do something he should’ve done two years ago.

“will you come with me?”

the question hangs in the air for what feels like forever. steve may say no. that’s part of why eddie didn’t even ask the first time. but he may say-

“yes.”

“you will?”

“on one condition.”

“anything.”

“you stop trying to forget all the bad parts. the bad parts sucked, but they brought us together. running from them means running from me. at least hold my hand so i can run with you.”

eddie thinks maybe he could write a song about that.

and he thinks he’d like to hold steve’s hand while he does.

[milksnake-tea]

━━ duty calls.

Created around the same time and having trained with one another, you and Casper have always butted heads. You'd compete over seemingly anything - how many souls one could reap, the days one could go without catching soul sickness, and the list goes on. Casper has always found you to be obnoxious, but when he sees you crying by yourself, he finds himself torn.

grim x gn!reaper!reader

contains: fluff, hurt/comfort, set before the main storyline, reader is NOT the mc, brief mentions of child death, USAGE OF GRIM'S REAL NAME, reader is a little shit

word count: 4.2k

a/n: FORGIVE ME IF THE WORLDBUILDING IS OFF I WAS TRYING MY BEST and ive only done one ending oops (finals hurts okay :((( ) also ... im not sure if reapers names are classified just to mortals and not other reapers but ykw imma take my liberties

"Seriously, do you ever get tired?"

Casper groaned irritatedly, running a hand through his snow-like hair. Blood like rust coated his scythe, spoils from his most recent hunt. The corpse still lay fresh in front of him, but their skin was cold and their eyes dead.

Boisterous laughter erupted above him. Sitting on the balcony of some person’s apartment, you grinned down at him - that infuriating, shit-eating grin that never failed to tick him off.

You kicked your legs childishly as you leaned back over the railing. Nestled against the crook of your arm was a scythe similar to his own, save for the more detailed design and color palette. Unlike him, you would constantly say, you liked to live a little.

Bold words coming from a bringer of death.

“Don’t blame me for you being slow,” you called down to him. Casper rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he glared up at you.

“I am not ‘slow’,” he grumbled. “You’re too eager. And get down from there, you’ll be spotted.”

You tilted your head. “It’s like, 3 A.M. What kind of idiot’s gonna be awake at this hour?”

“You’d be surprised. Humans will do anything but take care of themselves.”

“I guess,” you sighed, jumping down. You twirled your scythe absentmindedly, Casper leaning back to avoid getting hacked to pieces.

“Be careful with that,” he scolded. You, of course, ignored him.

“So are these the last of the guys?” you wondered, kicking at a corpse with your foot.

The alleyway was practically lined with bodies, so many that management had called upon both you and Casper to deal with the remnants of the massacre. Gang fights were a pain to deal with, second only to pandemics and war.

“It would seem so.” Casper gave you a look, to which you responded by sticking out your tongue. You were very mature, after all.

You stretched thankfully, rolling out your shoulder. “Thank God, I was starting to get depressed from all the dead people.”

“If you’re getting depressed from just this, perhaps you should consider a different career choice.”

“Nah.” You smiled. “If I left, who would I bully? You’d get all sad and lonely without me.”

“Hardly,” Casper scoffed. “If anything, I’d be relieved.”

“You wound me.”

“Good.”

“So mean,” you pouted. Casper paid you no attention, as per usual. It didn’t matter, though, since you immediately perked back up. “Hey, boo?”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“I have an idea.” And just like that, your cheshire grin returned. Casper sighed, already beginning to walk off.

“How wonderful,” he said sarcastically. “Share it with someone else.”

“Uh-uh, no.” As quick as a flash, your scythe was out, the blade curving in front of Casper to prevent his escape. “This one’s good, I swear.”

“Your definition of what is and isn’t a good idea needs some desperate fixing.” Still, he made no move to escape, instead turning around to face you.

“Let’s race.”

Casper raised a brow. “Race?”

You nodded eagerly, your eyes shining like jewels. In the darkness of the alleyway, the two of you were illuminated only by the neon blue lights of the city. Yet, as that same blue was captured in your eyes, Casper was reminded of a kaleidoscope, changing and turning in a multitude of different colors.

It was… captivating.

“If I win, you have to buy me a drink.” 

Casper snapped out of his daze, a light flush blooming across his fair skin. Thankfully, though, you didn’t seem to notice, too entranced by another one of your ridiculous competitions. Seriously, there had to be a limit to how unprofessional you could be.

“You assume I have the time to buy you one,” he said with faux calmness, grateful for the night’s shadows hiding his complexion. You huffed.

“You could do it while you’re rebalancing yourself,” you said, as though it was obvious. “Besides, it doesn’t have to be anything big, just a coffee or a tea would be nice.”

“Fine, let’s say I stoop down to your level and agree to this… race,” said Casper. “What do I get if I win?”

You shrugged. “Then I'll just buy you a drink.”

Casper shook his head. “I’m not like you. I don’t drink on the job.”

“But you do cuddle an axolotl plushie when you sleep,” you pointed out. Instantly, Casper flushed red.

“Wha- What does that have to do with anything?!” he protested.

"I just thought about it randomly," you shrugged. "But seriously, that thing is huge, where did you get it?"

“Never mind how I got it," Casper crossed his arms and averted his eyes, his bottom lip turning up in a pout. “We’re getting off track.”

“Oh, so now you care about my games,” you teased. “Anyways, on how I’ll reward you…”

You spun your scythe back to your side, tapping its staff against the ground as you thought of a fitting reward.

“Oh! How about this?” You snapped your fingers, a figurative light bulb lighting up next to you. “You get to cash in one favor from me.”

“Any favor?” A smirk creeped onto Casper’s face, his interest finally piqued. “That’s a dangerous game you’re playing, [Name].”

“As long as it’s within reason and isn’t embarrassing,” you snapped, crossing your arms. “If you make me kiss your feet or something like that, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Of course,” Casper chuckled knowingly. “So, where to and when are we racing?”

“Hey, if you weren’t paying attention to the rules, then that's your fault. As for when the race starts, how about… now.”

“Wha- Hey!” Casper barely dodged as you shot past him in a blur of black. Hooking your scythe into the walls, you stuck out your tongue at him as you propelled yourself through the night.

“So long, Casp!”

Casper cursed under his breath. Quickly, he made haste to follow you. He flew through the air like a bird, twisting around light poles, skyscrapers, and billboards alike.

You weren’t as elegant, instead jumping from building to building like a modern superhero. You’d catapult yourself through the sky using your scythe as leverage, your laughter echoing in the slumbering city - free like the wind.

Casper didn’t have to follow you long to know where you were heading towards. Invisible to the mortal eye, yet painfully obvious to the eyes of reapers, was an entrance to the Underworld, a whirlpool of black and red that led straight down to your home.

As you launched yourself into the air once again, Casper came up next to you, his hair billowing in the cold night wind like smoke.

“Nice of you to join me,” you teased, elbowing him in the side. Casper rolled his eyes once again, speeding up. “Hey!”

Smoky tendrils of crimson and ink curled around your figures as the two of you neared the portal. The center of the whirlpool was a void seemingly leading to the abyss itself, but you’ve worked in this job long enough to know just what lay beneath.

True to his character, Casper wasted no time and shot straight into the thick of it. You, on the other hand, were a little more dramatic with your landing.

You spun in a backflip off of the last of the skyscrapers before letting gravity take you for a ride. Wind whistled past your ears as you fell, yet all you could hear was the rapid thump of your own heart. Adrenaline filled your veins. Soon, black and red lined your vision as the Underworld engulfed you.

The second you saw the tips of red-stained towers, you flipped yourself to face the ground. Closer and closer, you could practically taste it. If you delayed any longer, your life as a grim reaper could end prematurely.

Like the eyes of a devil, your pupils glowed in delight, activating your abilities. But rather than slowing your descent, you sped it up, shooting towards the ground like a missile.

Black blobs, the fuzzy images of your coworkers, scrambled to move out of your way. Turning your body, you landed hard on your heels, narrowly missing a fellow reaper.

For a moment, all you could see was dust. Before the clouds could disappear, you shook off the sting in your ankles and stretched.

“Woo!” you cheered, kicking your leg. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

“Quiet down.” Casper grabbed your shoulder and pulled you back. “Honestly, is there ever a quiet moment with you?”

You giggled. “Boo, you’ve known me long enough to know the answer to that. Oh, by the way, I’m craving some-”

“Hold it.” Casper bonked your head. “I only agreed to buy you something if you won.”

“Didn’t I?”

“No you didn’t,” Casper retorted. “Anyone with working eyes could see that I reached the ground before you did. Therefore, I won.”

“Uh, no.” You crossed your arms. “Are you gaslighting me? You’re gaslighting me. That's not very nice of you, Casp.”

“I am not gaslighting you.” Your white-haired coworker rolled his eyes. “As grim reapers, we cannot lie. Someone of your caliber should know this.”

You blinked innocently. “Did you just compliment me?”

Casper spluttered. “What in the world made you come to that conclusion?”

Taking a step forward, you leaned towards the reaper, a cheeky smile growing on your face. “You said ‘Someone of your caliber’. That means you think I’m capable.”

“You’d have to be a special kind of stupid to be incompetent after working as a reaper for so long,” Casper crossed his arms, fighting down the blush rising onto his cheeks. You were close, way too close. “Then again, I wouldn’t be surprised, seeing as how that was the only thing you heard from what I said.”

Heaving a sigh, he pushed you away with his finger.

“But don’t distract yourself from the fact that I won the race,” he said, a smug smirk replacing his exasperation.

“I was honestly trying to forget.”

Casper huffed, a pout forming on his lips. But the moment wouldn’t last long, as a ding sounded from both of your phones. When you checked it, you groaned when you saw a notification of unexpected emergency.

“Seriously?” you complained. “Overtime? Did a bunch of reapers die off or something? My soul’s going to get tainted at this rate.”

“Don’t complain.” Casper nudged you, but even you could see the irritation on his face. “It’s our job as reapers to reap souls on time, no matter what.”

“I guess. Still doesn’t make it any less annoying.”

“Agreed.” With a sigh, Casper summoned his scythe. “I must be off, now. See you on the other side, [Name].”

As he made his way back to the opening of the portal, his feet lifting off from the ground, a gloved hand reached out to grasp your chin. Gently, he guided you to look at him as he ascended.

“I look forward to cashing in on that favor.”

━

For as long as you could remember, things have always been this way.

Your earliest memory was of waking up to the crimson skies of the Underworld. Unaware and unknowing, you allowed yourself to be dragged around by older reapers, their voices blurring together in a droning buzz. Everything had gone by so quickly, and you struggled to keep up with it all.

If you were to say it bluntly, your first day felt like a fever dream.

But amidst the chaos, the tutorials, and the gifting of your first scythe, there was one thing that you remembered clearly.

“...Snow.”

Your mentor’s lecture halted at your voice, barely audible. They followed your gaze to a white-haired man, looking to be around the same age as you. Like a drowsy child, you lifted your finger and pointed at him, looking back to your mentor.

“He’s like snow.”

Their eyes softened by the tiniest bit, having seemingly realized that you were still disorientated. After all, in a sense, you had just been born.

“I suppose he is.” Putting a hand on your shoulder, they guided you away from the man. “Now, as I was saying…”

Their voice faded away into the background as the white-haired man noticed your gaze. He turned to look at you, his ruby-like eyes like blood speckles against the winter landscape. You stared at each other for only a few seconds before you turned to follow your mentor.

You quickly forgot the pretty stranger, but you would stay in his memories for quite a while before you’d cross paths again. In the darkness of the Underworld, you were like a lantern - radiating warmth and familiarity.

You were beautiful, like a flower in summer. That was, until he met you for the second time.

Swiftly and ruthlessly, holding true to your occupation as a reaper, you cut apart any premonitions he had had about you. When you were put against him to spar by your mentors, the drowsiness had worn off - instead replaced by insufferable audacity.

As your scythes clashed, sparks flying between the two of you and burning him in the process, your mouth just wouldn’t stop moving, stop talking. The innocently sleepy look on your face was replaced with a shit-eating grin as you blocked his attacks, trapping him in a frenzied dance.

“What’s wrong, boo?” you laughed, twirling your scythe to drive him back. “Don’t tell me you’re getting tired already.”

Casper’s eyebrow twitched at the nickname; you wouldn’t stop calling him that ever since you learned his real name. He didn’t understand where it came from, but just the way you said it was enough to annoy him.

“Hardly,” he scoffed, his boots kicking up dust as they skidded against the ground. He was quick to lunge back at you, his movements precise as he swung his blade. “If anything, I’d wager that you’re the one tiring out.”

“Ha!” You ducked under his attack and sprung forward, Casper’s hair tickling at your face as you came nose to nose with him. Startled, Casper had no time to react as you slammed the end of your scythe’s staff into his chest.

Before he knew it, Casper’s back was against the ground, your boot on his chest, and your scythe at his neck.

Your breaths were heavy as you looked down on him, but your eyes glowed with triumphant victory. The fight may have been more exhausting than you’d like to admit, but the view you had was well worth the effort.

Beneath you, Casper struggled to catch his own breath, his chest heaving under the soles of your foot. His white hair splayed around him like a halo, and his face was tickled pink from the fight.

Even in defeat, he was beautiful.

You leaned forward, putting your weight on your knee. Casper grunted as you pressed harder on him. Just for the fun of it, you pressed your scythe’s blade against his chin and guided him to look up at you and your grin.

“I win,” you sang mockingly.

Casper groaned, letting his head fall against the floor. You laughed heartily, stepping off of him and instead extending your hand to him. Without a second thought, Casper took it, allowing you to pull him to his feet and dust him off.

“That’s what, victory number twenty-one?” you asked, stretching. “That means I’m in the lead now, Casp.”

“Whatever,” Casper scoffed, dusting off his chest where your foot had been. “I’m sure the score will even out in no time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you squinted at him. Casper stuck his tongue out at you.

“I don’t know, what does it mean?”

You hit his chest playfully. Casper grunted, glaring at you from the corner of his eye.

That’s how it had always been, after all. You and Casper would go back and forth in this tantalizing dance, exchanging jabs and jokes at the same time. 

To Casper, you were insufferable, but annoyingly capable. To you, Casper was way too serious and stuck up, yet had that charm about him that made you want to tease him at every possible opportunity.

But for many, many years, your relationship never went further than mere friends - if Casper even wanted to call you that.

━

The day Casper’s view of you changed was like a stormy sky - dark, yet light still managed to peek through.

You’d come back to headquarters with a solemn look upon your face. For someone who had just come back from a mission, you were oddly… clean. There wasn’t a trace of blood on your clothes, yet your eyes were dark, haunted. Even your scythe’s shine seemed dull.

For the reapers, to have someone normally so loud and full of life be reduced to this, was frightening. They’d grown used to your smile, your voice, your light. You parted crowds with your uncharacteristically serious aura; if there was anything a sensible reaper feared, it was the wrath of a joyous soul.

Immediately after turning in your report to headquarters, you disappeared from the public eye.

When Casper first heard the news, he had brushed it off. You were probably just having a bad day, he tried to assure himself. Maybe you’d finally realized the grimness that came with your profession. Maybe the soul you’d reaped was especially troublesome and gave you a run for your money.

Despite his attempts to make up explanations for your behavior, he couldn’t stop the worry from gnawing at his heart. It twisted in his chest like soul sickness, an ailment that he wasn’t used to nor did he understand. It even followed him into his work, plaguing his mind and distracting him as he reaped soul after soul.

He’d made haste to return home, knowing that this illness would only worsen if he stayed out.

The Underworld was always dark, but that day, the sky was pitch black. Eager to return to the comfort of his bed, he quickly made his way to one of the many apartment complexes in which reapers resided.

However, just before he opened the door to his room, his hand stilled at the sound of crying.

Now, sadness wasn’t an uncommon emotion in the Underworld. Ghosts, sinners, and demons alike wailed and screamed their woes into the night. Their cries were as common as the sound of rushing cars in a human city.

But not for reapers, especially in their home. Reapers, at their core, were cold, emotionless, and ruthless - they needed to be, in order to do their jobs properly. A reaper’s tears were rare, almost taboo.

The more Casper listened, he soon recognized a familiar voice among those sniffles: yours.

Could it be? He looked up to the rooftop, his hand wavering. His soul pulsed in his chest, warning him to ignore you and focus on himself. But his heart argued back.

Casper glanced once more at the doorknob to his room. Cursing himself, he heaved a sigh and walked away - moving towards the staircase leading to the rooftop.

As he emerged onto the rooftop, the first thing he noticed was how clear the sky was. Its crimson blanket was more like that of a rose’s rather than bloodstains, and if he squinted, he could perhaps delude himself into seeing a few stars.

Then came you.

Casper’s heart plummeted in his chest when he saw your form curled into itself. You sat at the edge of the rooftop, your knees pulled up to your chest and your face buried in your arms. Your back was to him, but Casper saw the way your shoulders trembled.

He tried to take a step towards you, tried to reach to you with his hand, but hesitated. What would he even say? What could he say? What could he do?

His thoughts halted when you took a deep, shuddered breath, your voice raw from cry.

“What do you want, Casper.”

Casper. Not Casp, not boo, not any of the annoying nicknames that you called him by.

“I…”

He stepped back, feeling fear for perhaps the first time in his life. For the first time, he was unsure of what to do.

You couldn’t see him, but you heard him walk away and descend the staircase. You laughed hollowly, wiping at your face with your hand.

“What was I even expecting…” you muttered bitterly, gripping at your own arms for support. “Why would he of all people…”

You shut your eyes tighter. Without the company of the sky and the city, you were left alone with your thoughts. Memories of what you had witnessed laughed in your mind, latching onto you like a parasite and refusing to let go.

You were never afraid of blood, nor of death, but today, just the thought of it made you nauseous.

Something soft nudged at your elbow. Blinking your eyes open, you warily looked to your side.

However, instead of seeing a person, you came face to face with a bright pink axolotl plushie.

You and the plushie stared at each other for a good minute, neither of you knowing what to make of the other. It wasn’t until you heard a familiar, exasperated sigh from behind the plushie that you realized what it was.

“Don’t just stare at him,” Casper mumbled, pushing the plushie against you. You blinked owlishly, before hesitantly taking the plushie into your arms.

Hugging it against your chest, you rested your chin on top of its head. The plushie was oddly warm, yet comforting. Casper sat beside you, silent and gazing up towards the sky. For a while, the two of you simply sat in this silence, with the only thing breaking it being your quiet sniffles.

“...She was just a kid,” you finally spoke, catching Casper’s attention and making him look at you. You, however, kept your gaze straight ahead to the city lines, refusing to meet his gaze. “She was just a little girl, and yet they… they…”

You hugged the plushie a little tighter.

“I just can’t understand how humans can be so cruel to each other.”

Casper’s gaze turned downcast. “That’s how they’ve always been. Life is cruel, even to the purest of souls.”

“It’s not fair.”

“Hardly anything is.”

“It shouldn’t have been her. It should’ve been that bastard that murdered her.”

“He’ll get what he deserves. Karma will catch up to him.”

“But what if it doesn’t? What if he gets let off?”

“He won’t.”

Unexpectedly, you let out a snort at Casper’s deadpanned voice - so assured and serious. Casper raised a brow, looking at you inquisitively.

“You know,” you said, raising your head. “You’re somehow really bad and really good at comforting people.”

“What?” Casper wrinkled his nose. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you said softly. “I didn’t mean it as an insult. Actually, that’s one of the things I like about you.”

“That I’m apparently a bad comforter?”

“No, silly.” You leaned your head on the plushie again, only this time you were looking at your coworker. “Your seriousness. How you’re always so confident in yourself. How even if you don’t know what you’re doing, you still try.”

Red bloomed across Casper’s face like a flowering blossom, reaching from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He rubbed the back of his neck, averting his gaze.

“It’s not fair when you start saying things like that,” he mumbled. You giggled a little, leaning onto his shoulder with his plushie still in your arms.

“I’m just being honest,” you hummed. “Or maybe I’m coping. I dunno.”

Casper chuckled, but made no move to push you off him. You closed your eyes. The turmoil in your heart was still there, of course, but with Casper against you, it eased up just a little.

“Seriously though, thank you,” you said. “For coming up here for me and, well, everything.”

“It was nothing,” Casper replied. “You were looking pretty pathetic, all depressed and all.”

You huffed. “Just admit you care about me, Casp. Is that so hard?”

Casper grumbled something unintelligible, before lifting his arm. You squeaked as he wrapped it around your shoulders, pulling you closer against him. With your head laid against his collarbone, you could feel every breath he took as well as the rapid beat of his heart.

“[Name],” he said quietly. “Remember the favor you promised me? For winning the race?”

“Mm… yeah. What about it?”

“I’d like to cash it in right now.”

“Oh lord,” you chuckled. “Alright, what do you want?”

“Whatever happens next, don’t tell anyone,” Casper whispered.

Your lips curled into a smile. “You know, Casp, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were about to do something weird.”

You couldn’t see him, but you knew he was rolling his eyes.

“Be quiet for a moment, will you?”

You grinned. “Ah, but that’s two favors, not-”

Casper shut you up with a soft kiss to your head. It was brief, so quick that for a second you almost thought you had dreamed it.

In your stunned silence, Casper spoke again.

“Forgive me if I’m being greedy, but I’ll ask for a third favor,” he said. “No matter what happens, promise me you won’t deal with it by yourself.”

His grip around you tightened.

“Please.”

You nuzzled closer into the crook of his neck.

“...I promise.”

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[dollishmehrayan]

# “LIFE IS WHAT HAPPENS TO YOU WHEN YOUR BUSY MAKING OTHER PLANS.” ── .✦ ( just a Drabble of how Jason babysits lian Harper because dc isn’t answering my dms to release smth like this )

a/n: this is lowkey inspired from my TikTok fyp && I thought why not make this after being gone (like Roy ) but I’m here and that matters for now ig but here is some uncle jay content before I get chased off this app once again /hj but I lovee these tropes and we need MORE. Also I based that lian Harper in this is about 7 yrs old so sorry if I fucked up the timeline 😓 Tags: (uncle!jay x lian Harper)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

UNLIKELY BABYSITTER ── .✦

(Okay so Idk whether to base this off when Roy died or wtv so i think I’m gonna say wherever) When Roy had to go to whenever the fuck he went, Jason didn't expect to be left with Lian. But, given the circumstances, he found himself the reluctant babysitter.

It was awkward at first, both of them not knowing what to do with each other. Lian, full of energy, bounced around with her little, eager questions, and Jason, usually gruff and unbothered, had no idea how to talk to a seven-year-old. But, after a few days, it became a routine. He'd take her out on low-key patrols

keep her entertained with action figures, or get distracted with her never-ending curiosity about why the Batmobile was always clean or how many bad guys Batman had taken down. She’d ask him if he ever got hurt during patrols, and he’d be quick to shrug it off with a gruff "I'm bulletproof." Which, in a way, was true, but he'd leave out the parts where he still felt pain.

JASON LYING ABOUT ROY’S WHEREABOUTS ── .✦

Every now and then, Lian would ask where her dad was. Jason had learned quickly that he couldn’t tell her the truth because no way in hell he would say that Roy was either in rehab or MIA. So, he became a master of gentle lies. "Your dad's off being a hero," he'd say with a wink, trying to avoid any further probing.

He’d even make up silly, grandiose adventures: “I think he’s saving the world, but he’ll come back when he’s done being the most awesome archer on the planet.” Lian would nod in serious understanding, never questioning her Uncle Jason. To her, Roy was always out there being her hero, just like her dad told her. Jason kept that illusion intact, because no seven-year-old should have to worry about things they couldn’t fully understand.

GENTLE PARTS ── .✦

When Jason had to settle into being around Lian, he realized that her energy could cut through his walls. He started catching himself with small gestures brushing her hair out of her face when it got messy or tucking her into bed on those nights when she insisted she was scared of the dark. Jason, who usually kept to himself, found that he liked having her around.

He'd start to soften in her presence, especially when she asked questions about his life as Robin because Roy couldn’t keep his mouth shut, and he couldn’t help but soften his voice when he told her stories some he exaggerated for fun and others that were true but came with some parts that were fake and censored.

SEEING HIMSELF IN HER ── .✦

Even at just seven years old, Lian’s fiery spirit reminded him of the younger version of himself a little too reckless, a little too stubborn but he was glad that she seemed to be brighter with energy and didn’t have to go through the same hardships. Jason, having gone through too much for one lifetime, couldn’t help but feel a deep need to protect her.

Whether it was keeping a watchful eye when she ran around with a slingshot or taking her to Alfred for medical patches when she scraped her knee during a failed attempt at imitating her father’s archery skills, Jason would never let anything bad happen to her if he could help it. Every time she looked up at him with those big, trusting eyes, he felt the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders, but in a strangely fulfilling way.

FUN AND MISCHIEF ── .✦

Jason may have been rough around the edges, but he knew how to entertain a child. After dinner, he’d take her out to the Batcave to show her gadgets, even let her play with some of the “toys,” making sure she didn’t break anything important. She loved exploring the safe house jason owned and asking him endless questions about his bikes and guns even though he definitely hid the more violent ones away.

Sometimes, when Roy was unreachable, he’d make up stories about their ‘missions’ together how they had to fight a gang of supervillains or how they went on a secret mission to find the Batcave’s best snack stash even though it hurt him inside to even think about Roy.

Lian would giggle, rolling her eyes at Jason’s outlandish claims, but they both enjoyed it. He’d always promise to let her in on the next "real mission" and tease her about how she’d be the world’s greatest archer one day. She'd always beam back at him, so proud.

JASONS TENDER SIDE ── .✦

In the quiet moments, when Lian would curl up on the couch with a blanket, Jason would find himself sitting beside her, still, looking out for her. He'd never admit it, but he loved how peaceful those moments were, just the two of them. If she asked about her dad again, Jason’s words were always gentle, his hand rubbing her back in soothing circles. “Your dad’s tough, you know? He’s probably out there saving people right now, but when he comes home, he’s gonna spoil you so much, you won’t even know what hit you.”

Jason kept his words soft, not wanting her to feel too much hurt. Deep down, he hated lying to her, but in a twisted way, it was easier to protect her with lies than with the hard truth.

THE LITTLE THINGS ── .✦

Every so often, Jason would find himself unwinding with Lian watching a cartoon together, or if she was feeling more adventurous, they’d go out for ice cream after a long day. Jason would insist she pick out the weirdest flavor, and Lian would always go for something outrageous like mint chocolate chip with sprinkles or rainbow sherbet.

She’d make him try it too (she once made him try a bubblegum mix and he swore he had a stomach ache for dayss😭) and though he’d grimace, he’d always end up smiling at her enthusiasm. The day would end with her telling him everything she learned that day, and Jason, despite his own pain, would laugh, feeling like maybe he was doing something right for once.

THE UNSPOKEN BOND ── .✦

They didn’t say it out loud, but Jason took pride in being there for Lian. He couldn’t replace Roy, and he didn’t want to, but he’d be damned if anything happened to Lian while he was around. Sometimes, as Lian drifted to sleep, Jason would glance over at her, making sure she was okay.

And in those moments, he’d make silent promises to protect her, to keep lying about her father’s whereabouts until he could safely come home, and to be the kind of person who would never let her down even if the world seemed to keep knocking him down because even when his world was crumbling, he would make sure hers was always peaceful and perfect.

[stupidpersonhere]

Returning to this post, I genuinely believe Lu Guang can't save Cheng Xiaoshi.

Hold on! Weren't you the one claiming Link Click can have a happy ending?? What are you implying??? Lu Guang has to avoid Cheng Xiaoshi's death node - he is the time Traveller trying to save the dead wife!!!

Well. Simply. The nature of time traveling. In a video I reposted (here) and a fantastic comment underneath I found the answer to my questions. You see, Link Click has some of the most interesting time traveling rules I've seen across all media relating to time travelling and I've seen my share.

To keep matters short, Link Click proposes there are nodes, key events dictating how the timeline goes - like a camera film , how they happen to be and their ramifications can change but the shoot still takes place regardless of any time traveller misgivings. Anything else is up for grabs.

Classy time travelling stuff. Easy peasy!

It brings an interesting question though.

How do you set a node?

An important event! Some might answer.

Ok but - how do you classify an important event?

Think about it. Humans pass through countless events that dictate their lives, each one having ramifications that might alter who they marry or even marry at all in their daily life; it's impossible to classify them nor identify them all no matter the effort you put on. The world is too vast to even start that monumental task.

We choose them. We experience it, we identify them once it's over.

So, essentially, nodes in Link Click are not set thanks to a omniscient fate. Humans set these nodes, perspectives set the events unfolding the story - it doesn't guarantee happy endings, sometimes it topples to tragic ones but it's human beings living who set timelines.

Lu Guang has witnessed Cheng Xiaoshi's death many times. He has seen his body cool, has been alongside him as he dies, has borne the consequences of meddling and has acquired Cheng Xiaoshi diving ability.

That the dives in the first place dooms his quest - Cheng Xiaoshi needs to die for Lu Guang to travel back in time, his death is a shoot engraved on film.

Lu Guang can't save Cheng Xiaoshi - but Cheng Xiaoshi could save himself.

Think about it! Lu Guang can and has presenced Cheng Xiaoshi's death but Cheng Xiaoshi can't. It's impossible! He can experience the action of dying but never being dead. By definition death is a departure from the mortal coil and thus, something none can experience for themselves - to Cheng Xiaoshi his death is a shoot he can never take and thus an impossible node to form.

Even if we look at the dead wife angle (I really like the aesthetic not gonna lie) with the time travelling aspect the parallel doesn't completely fit right. Cheng Xiaoshi is the original time traveller who fails on his quest to save the innocents from their unjust death - Lu Guang just stumbles on it.

Only a time traveller can untangle a dead node, their own. None else.

[youronlydarlin]

Hi dolly!:) silly idea, have you ever tried writing for the hybrid cod guys? Ie: dragon hybrid price or werewolf hybrid soap, not a Request, I just think their neat. Also, probably good for Halloween as it's nearly October!

warning: none. Crack and fluff kinda, hybrid tf141

Ah of course, writing for hybrid cod is tradition at this point

Romantic bits aside. I like to think that each of them are annoying in their own special way. Intentional or not.

For starters, DragonHybrid! Price just reeks off burning wood. No matter how many times he's taken a shower, –no matter how long too!– he always ends up smelling the same. Like a fuckin' pizza oven.

Must be because he's half dragon– you'd think, so you can't really hold it against him. But out comes the second problem, which what seems to be his unhealthy relationship with cigars. What good does he have for temporary, man-made, chemical smoke, when he can produce his own. More natural, more efficient, and quicker too. But alas. It's just one of those cases where you try one thing once, then you find yourself doing it all the time, over and over.

You love the guy, really, you do. But getting any closer than 5 feet would set fire to your lungs, a guaranteed visit to the nurse's office. Doesn't help that kissing him feels like swallowing a dozen lit matches.

While Price's stench is still somewhat tolerable. WerewolfHybrid! Soap's constant howling at the moon might just make you consider transferring to another task force. Unfortunately for you, you also love his stupid face too much to do that. Sigh, the things you do for love. He just can't seem to get enough of that stupid fucking rock floating in the ink of night. Like he was some desperate firefly, who can't reach the light of a bulb. Well, at least he'd be a very handsome firefly.

But oh he cries for it, howls for it, and makes everyone suffer because of it. Heartless monter. A part of you thinks that he's just feeding into the cliché –that his kind is unable to resist that shiny ball of white floating about the dark sky– and the other wonders if he just Palov'ed himself into doing that by accident, and now can't quit.

Next up is your dear HarpyHybrid! Gaz, darling boy he is. He's not much of a nuisance save for the occasional stray feathers you'd find scattered all over the damned base. He has no control over it.

Besides, it's not too much of a problem on most days, but if you're unlucky enough to catch him on a bad mood you'll be left with more feathers than the ones you ordered to clean. And if you happen to hit a very specific nerve he might just ask a favor from his bird friends to shit on your car. Or your head. Whatever quells his thirst chaos at the moment. Is that a new suit? Well it's definitely not gonna smell like one anymore, baby!!

Very petty, and pretty would be the top description for your love.

Lastly we have WraithHybrid! Ghost. Who definitely lives up to his call sign. Never brings shame to it. He haunts the halls like he gets paid to do it, said he'd love for that to be the case. But no. The prick just can't be bothered to alert anyone of his presence.

You'd feel him before you see him. Unexpected taps to the shoulder has you jumping out of skin, and bumping to an invisible body never fails to bring a chill up your spine.

But when you do see him? On the dead of night? Out to get a snack? Ohh, lucky you, if you're a horror fanatic because the worn out material of his mask. That soulless skull. It's enough to give the boogeyman nightmares. Scare the monsters out from under your bed. You'd be glad that it was just skeletons in your closet, and not his dark, grim, saturnine, figure.

The last thing you needed from that was the introduction of the bane of your very tired existence, or as others would call it, "the swear jar". Price was just looking to take advantage of your very consistent "Oh fuck!'s towards Ghost.

a/n: I forgot how much I loved writing. I missed all of you so much.

yours, truly

–Dolly

[lovebillyhargrove]

Harringrove Simon x Alisha "Misfits" au. The idea is not new and has been going around for a while

***

Billy notices Steve Harrington the moment he sets his heavy boot down on the asphalt of Hawkins High parking lot. It's a downward spiral ever since. Or an upward one, Billy can't really tell.

He tries to keep his distance cause he understands - this is the most unnecessary shit right now, in June he's getting the hell out of this town. However, no matter how hard he tries, he can't stay away, Steve is pulling him irresistibly, Billy's particles certainly want to stir up a chemical reaction with Harrington's, they rebel, they riot.

So at the graduation party Hargrove gets drunk as a skunk and awkwardly confesses his fucking feelings to Steve "I'm like .. fuck, I kinda .. I think I like you. I dunno." To which Steve responds with a laugh. A sneer.

Billy's like okay .. It's fine. I'm fine. Fucking hell. I'm gonna be fine. It's not the end of the world.

Although it feels like it is. The pull doesn't stop. It's torture.

..

Then Brimborn happens, Starcourt happens.

Something also happens to Steve's heart when he watches Billy stand tall against the monster and die.

Since July 4th Harrington has lost the peace of mind. Why ..? What's wrong?

Does he care? .. No, he doesn't care. He shouldn't care.

Steve stays up late, can't sleep, thinks, relishes the smokes, goes for long drives, often ends up at the cemetery. Replays all their little encounters, all the phrases said to each other, remembers more details. He can't get over the dead guy.

What if ..?

A whole year passes before unknown secret forces of the universe decide to interfere. Steve is caught in a terrible thunderstorm and gets struck by lightning. He doesn't die, no, he gains the ability to travel back in time.

So when Harrington understands his powers, he returns to Starcourt, tries to save Billy, but it's a hasty attempt, doesn't work. Steve goes back to the graduation party, doesn't push Hargrove away, they talk, they kiss.

Billy still dies.

Whatever Steve tries, he fails.

Hargrove dies, one way or the other. But with every travel Steve develops more feelings for him, fuck, it's ..

Are they going to be caught in this scenario forever? What needs to be done to get out of it and keep Billy alive?

***

Or is it Steve who first falls in love with the new guy, and Hargrove's like wtf, I don't need it. He dies, Steve tries to bring him back, Billy starts falling for him too, it's heartbreak over heartbreak over heartbreak

[caitchercatlady]

Tastes Like Love

*I wrote this wondering how my OC, Mika would've reacted to Jack bringing his leftover macarons to her to show off what he did during the elective class. Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!

When Mika learns that Jack is not coming to study group tomorrow, she needs to get the word from the wolf himself if the rumors (not exactly rumors as Ace and Deuce are the ones who told her this) are true.

Didn’t Ace and Deuce tell you? he asks, responding to her initial text.

Mika replies, They did, but I wanted to know what was going on. You’re not in trouble or sick, are you?

No, of course not. You heard about the Culinary Crucible happening tomorrow, right?

You signed up for it? You never told me that.

Well, I didn’t know if I was gonna make it this week. It was a last minute informing on my end. Sorry I didn’t tell you before.

I wish you good luck. You know what the theme is this time?

Won’t know til I get there.

Will you save some for me?

It takes a minute for Jack to respond to Mika’s last question. If they let me take some home, sure.

Mika giggles. I can’t wait.

Seeing Mika’s words brings a churning sensation to Jack’s stomach. He doesn’t see himself as a cook as he’s helped his parents with the cooking at home plenty of times before. However, those are instances where his parents will always give him direction or correction if needed. He often uses the Savanaclaw kitchen to cook some quick meals for dinner. Still, if Vil, who is also participating in this Friday’s Culinary Crucible, has also been included alongside the wolf beastman, Jack suspects that this may not be simple cooking at all.

When Vil and Jack both arrive at the cafeteria to start their class, Jack’s suspicions are correct. It’s baking, not cooking. Jack knows less about the baking side of things as that’s always been his mother’s department. Even when Jack has offered to assist his mom in crafting the baked goods, she would always tell him that she has a system and Jack isn’t ready to experience that for himself.

If anything, Mrs. Howl’s system could be the utmost helpful in this part of Jack’s school curriculum.

Each student who is honored to partake in the class receives an item on the cafeteria ghosts’ menu. Vil is blessed to get an easy chocolate cake to make. Jack has been given the responsibility to bake the most delicate dessert in the lineup.

Macarons.

Jack physically takes the task with stride, but he knows nobody who can make macarons.

During the lessons, making the cream for the treat seems simple enough. Butter, sugar, milk, vanilla extract: That’s not difficult to mix and put into a piping bag. It’s the macaron shells that give him more trouble. Like the cream, the ingredients are simple enough. Unlike the cream, the shells need to be formed and baked in specific conditions or else the shells will come out cracked. No matter how closely Jack follows the ghost chef’s instructions, the shells always have a crack showing.

At this point, Jack would rather be making almond or rice pudding. To say that Jack is frustrated is an understatement, but he fails to take it out on his teachers. It doesn’t help that Jack’s judge for his portion of the class is Ace, who turns out to be unexpectedly picky when it comes to his desserts. If Ace is one to point out how the macarons look, how will Mika react? The one shining point in Jack’s baking is that Ace believes that the macaroons taste amazing.

Unlike the other students, who find themselves satisfied in their projects, Jack continues to make more macarons, hoping that more of them will come out uncracked like the singular cookie sandwich that Ace has been willing to eat. He continues this until he is the last student in the kitchen. This concerns the cafeteria ghosts.

The short ghost chef floats over to the determined student. “Jack, it is getting late. You’ve done so well. You’ve already received your credit.”

“Thank you, chef. As much as I greatly appreciate all you have taught me, I need to make one more perfect macaron before I leave.”

“Oh, is that right? Why so?”

“Because isn’t that what the Culinary Crucible is about? To be able to craft the perfect item from the recipe given?”

“Which you have been able to do. You saw your classmate’s reaction, didn’t you?”

“Well, Ace is Ace. He’s a snark even through his compliments. Not that I care, but this is too important for me to shove to the side.”

“While I agree, I have a feeling that there’s something more to making the perfect macaron than to what you want to let on. As your teacher, it’s none of my business, but it has piqued my curiosity. I refuse to tell fibs.”

Jack’s cheeks pinken.

“I’ve been around too long not to know where the true intention lies. Who’s the pretty girl?”

“Ack!” Jack’s knee jerk reaction causes some buttercream to splash onto the tray.

The ghost snickers. “I thought so.”

“It’s not like that! She’s just…a friend.”

“Everyone’s friends with the Prefect, but they wouldn’t go too far to spare some extra desserts for her.”

Jack can’t deny that. He is the one who spared some hot chocolate for her prior to Giving Day vacation. He heavily sighs. “I just want Mika to not be disappointed, that’s all.”

The ghost nods.

“As long as you don’t tell anyone else…What Ace said really bothered me. I know he’s being his usual self, and I can ignore that. But…I won’t be able to ignore Mika’s reactions, no matter how hard I try.”

“I’d say that’s quite noble, Jack,” a familiar voice rings.

“Vil!” exclaims Jack.

Vil chuckles. “A childhood friend knows how another is thinking based on their face. I knew that’s what you were thinking since the ghost chefs rang the start bell.”

“Don’t patronize me, Vil. I’ve had a rough day.”

“So did everyone. I know you weren’t paying attention, so I’ll let you in on a little secret. Everyone in this room had a struggle with something. No one is perfect, especially when it comes to baking. It’s a science just like every other.”

“But between the two of us, Vil, you loved baking that chocolate cake, and you hate sweets.”

“Quite the contrary, actually. Sweets are a vice that I’ve managed to keep away for so long. I’ve only found it easy because baking remains similar to other science classes at this school.”

“When you think about it, it’s quite true,” remarks the ghost chef.

“However, regarding your issue, Jack, you’re focusing too much on how something looks that you are forgetting something more important.” Vil plucks a finished, but cracked, macaron from the finishing plate and pops it into his mouth. He smiles politely. “How delicious it tastes. Try one, Jack. I implore you.”

Jack clears his throat. “If you say so…” He, too, tries one of his cracked, non chocolate, macarons. His eyes and ears perk up immediately. “Wow! I wasn’t expecting my own product to be this good.”

“You do have a talent for this sort of thing, Jack, and no one even had to tell you the most important ingredient that you also included.”

“Huh? What does that mean?”

“You made your macarons taste like love.”

“Love?”

“What Vil is trying to tell you is that cooking is not only following every instruction in the book,” explains the ghost chef. “While yes, following the recipe is important in order for the food to come out good, it’s the chef’s touch that also matters. Cooking and baking for others means that you are willing to put your heart into your dishes. Putting heart into dishes for people you don’t know is crucial in making your food delicious every single time.”

“And with what you have now, I promise you that Mika will not be disappointed in your macarons,” Vil concludes. “The best way to express the love in your food is to be proud of the food you made, and I know you are more than capable of doing that.”

Jack glances back down at his plate of perfect and not-perfect macarons. With two of his ring fingers, he spins the plate around, viewing the collection of treats as just that, a collection. Not every macaron on the plate is the same, and perhaps, that is the point after all.

“Oh, but don’t misunderstand me, Jack. If this was a baking competition, I’d give you low scores in presentation. However, I doubt you’d be interested in any of that kind of fodder anyhow.” Vil turns to fetch his school bag. Before he can reach the door, he pauses midwalk. “Oh, there is one more thing I almost forgot.” Vil reaches for a purple and white striped box from his station earlier in the day. “I think Mika would appreciate the present.” He gently drops the unfolded box in Jack’s large palms. “Congratulations, Jack, and good luck.” Vil flirtatiously winks, and then, he finally leaves the kitchen.

The ghost chefs clear their throats. The short one says, “Well…I don’t think I couldn’t have said that…more bluntly myself. What do you think, Jack?”

Jack gazes down at his macarons once more. “I think I’m gonna finish the last of these…and I’m gonna head out. Thank you for everything.”

“I was worried that you’d be trapped in the kitchen all night,” Mika relays to Jack as the two of them settle in the Ramshackle living room.

The two of them share the couch as the wolf explains his story on his experience in the elective. The both of them are happy that it has gone well all together. Jack carefully sits his takeout box of sweets onto the coffee table, showcasing his final result. “Forgive me if they’re not what you’re expecting them to look like.”

“Hey, you know what they say, Jack. If it looks like a cookie and it looks like a sandwich, it must be a macaron.”

His left ear flops.

“Alright then. Thank you for the macarons.” Mika plucks a cracked macaron from the box. She takes the time to observe the cookie sandwich, which sends a shiver up Jack’s spine. Half of it is bit and tested on her taste buds. Mika’s eyes widen with an enlightened glow. She let the flavor dance in her mouth for a bit long before speaking. “This is the most delicious sweet I’ve ever tasted.”

Jack’s jaw drops. “Is it?”

“The macaron shell is not too soft and not too hard. The cream inside is the perfect amount of sweet. I love buttercream, and this is the fluffiness I love the most.”

The more Mika compliments, the redder Jack’s face becomes.

“Jack, your macarons are wonderful.” She turns to him and immediately notices his state of shock. “Are you alright?”

When he hears your voice again, Jack shakes it off. “Sorry. I spaced out a little. Do you really like them?”

“Like them? I love them. Thank you for making some for me, Jack. Maybe you can teach me how to do it sometime?”

“Teach you?” His tail starts to swish side-to-side. “Uh, I can try.”

Mika smiles greatly. She hops along the couch cushions, closer to Jack and hugs him. She thanks him again. His face flusters, but he finds no harm in the affection. He returns the gesture with a warm embrace, laying his chin on top of Mika’s head. After all, Vil’s right. Jack won’t be afraid to teach now. They already have the most important ingredient.

[yuri-is-online]

Tokyo Debunker Intro Text/Notes

When the world is collapsing around you... Whose hand will you take?

It appears that whoever is asking this question is lighting a mesmer match, and blows it out just before we transition to the character select screen. The voice actor feels to me like the MC's, implying she could be asking this question of and using the match on herself.

Since Ancient times, humans have gathered around fires, fearing the fall of an eternal night. Yet they cannot help but peer into the shadows that hide in old places and pool in empty streets. Foolishly they yearn for it-- For the unknown that lies beyond the edge of darkness.

As this text plays the MC is running through a burning building that seems like it is the school's main hallway.

The following text does not change no matter what dialogue option you pick:

Frostheim

Luca

"I'm sorry... Yet again I have failed to protect the people most important to me... Please don't make that face. This is the only path left."

Jin

"We were just playing out a fixed match. And I was nothing but a figurehead all along... There's no time left. Get out of here. That's my final order to you."

Tohma

"Just look at the state of your hair. You really ought to go get tidied up. You simply cannot help but stick your nose in everywhere, can you?* I'm counting on you to handle the fallout."

*this is said fondly, he's not actually upset

Kaito

"I really was weak and useless all the way to the bitter end, huh? I'm sorry. I'm probably just delaying the inevitable, but... this is all a guy like me can do, you know?"

Vagastrom

Sho

"What're you doing here? Geez... What am I supposed to do, huh? I'm the only guy for the job. Pfft... what's with that face? At least send me off with a smile. Well... it's been a fun ride. Thanks for everything.*"

*Sho refers to the MC as senpai when addressing them

Alan

"Don't come any closer. I don't want to hurt you any more... Time's up. Sorry..."

Leo

"Life sucks and then you die, right? I just want to make the assholes responsible regret it. Gross, don't make that face at me. You think I'm suddenly pathetic enough to be moved by your ugly crying?"

Jabberwock

Towa

"Heh heh... ♪"*

Haru

"Gahaha! Why the long face? Head on back now. Everything's gonna be just fine.* I just couldn't do it in the end. Couldn't protect my home, or you guys, or anything at all..."

*this first part is said very upbeat before transitioning into a very defeated sounding, quieter tone. almost like he is talking to himself while still addressing mc

Ren

"This is exactly why I didn't want to do this! I knew this was how it was gonna end! What am I even doing here? This is all your fault..."

Sinostra

Ritsu

"I see you've guessed my intention. It's of little consequence. I suggest you get as far from here as you can. Father... I was unworthy to be your son. I hope you can forgive me."

Taiga

"Gyahaha! Time to cash in your chips! Guess this while thing was just a busted flush*, huh? Tell me something, would you? What could I have done different to change this outcome?"

*poker term, also slang for "a promising person or thing that turns out to be unsuccessful"

Romeo

"Tch. What do you want? Coming up here now... you're just getting in my way! I've got one last job for you. Tell everyone I looked flawless in my final moments."

Hotarubi

Haku

"Sorry. Guess I couldn't be the guy you wanted me to be. Ha. Ha... Don't look at me like that. Never lost faith in me, did you?*"

*it's brief, but I think I caught him thanking the MC. Also he's got some serious crazy eyes as he falls...

Subaru

"This is all my fault. I don't expect you to forgive me, but this is the least I can do... Please take this as my final act of good faith."

Zenji

"Ha ha... All the greatest literary masters departed this world before their time. I won't be leaving a masterpiece behind... but if I can save you, and our friends, I could ask for nothing more."

Obscuary

*this dorm is missing two students at the time of writing

Rui

"Ha ha... You found me! Geez, are you in love with me or something? Hey now. Don't think about trying to grab my hand. Just be happy enough for the both of us, ok?"

Mortranken

Yuri

"It's all going up in flames... all of my research... the fruit of my blood, sweat, and tears! Ha... HA HA! AH HA HA! AH HA HA HA!! Goodbye Mama..."

Jiro

"There's no coming back from this. I will struggle until it's over though. Dying always looks like it hurts. I hope I can save you at least, but don't get your hopes up. Bye."

at this point, the character will jump off the balcony the were standing on, some will reach out to the MC (Towa really looks like he is) other just kind of let the arm hang (Zenji committing to the noble sacrifice and Leo you fucking bitch-) The screen will then go black...

Please someone tell me... Where did we go wrong?

[butchboyvi]

song lyrics that remind me of vi and her story 🥊

i wanted to include song that i think could depict her emotions, especially her pitfighter arc in s2. most of these are indie rock/alt rock/post rock songs + some ambient folk, all with very gritty and emotional lyrics. i tried to think of songs that could encapsulate the feeling of despair and loneliness shown in the “nothing to lose” clip with my own personal twist i guess. also i had in mind the latest christian linke interview, where he said that we're going to see a very different version of caitlynn, stripped down of her optimism and hopefulness, and that vi is not going to recognize her anymore, and everything that this is going to entail in their relationship.

shadowboxing - julien baker

i know you were trying to help / but you're only making it worse / tell me that i shouldn't blame myself / but you can't even imagine how badly it hurts / just to think sometimes / how i think almost all the time

so break me down / fold it over your arms / like an unloaded shotgun / dismantled and harmless / even you couldn't manage to pull / the fuse from the back of my head

work out - rainbow kitten surprise

well, there's two sides to a fair fight / and you're the third man out / i was hopeful with a slow hand / and i got gunned down / well you asked me if i could grow up / but i don't know why / for i don't know much, i'm a palm frond / dying on a front porch

sour breath - julien baker

but i shouldn't have built a house in the middle of your chest / plywood boards joined at your breast / splinter in my arm where you rest your head / checking my watch till you come to bed

kiss me goodnight with your sour breath / breaks on my face like a wave of emptiness / and when i talk just taste regret / you're everything i want and i'm all you dread

ringside - julien baker

beat myself until i'm bloody / and i’ll give you a ringside seat / you say that it's embarrassing / i’m sorry that you had to see me like that

so you could either watch me drown / or try to save me while i drag you down / want to fix it but i don't know how

bloodshot - julien baker

middle of the night, all i can see are stars / pulled 'em from my eyes and your ex-lover's arms / throw hook after hook, and if i were you / after all that i did, i'd have done it to me, too

isn't like i did it on purpose / i just forget the second i learned it / everything i get, i deserve / you whisper to me, "don't you like it when it hurts?"

lefty - title fight

bad luck never leaves / your jinx just floats around / like the taste inside your mouth / or the sound when your skull cracks / feel the growing pains / it means you're growing up too fast

sleeping with the lights on - searows

we've been watching different movies / and i've been talking to myself / i’d like to think that you knew me / better than anybody else

i know you're probably standing there / wishing that i wasn't here / you know i'd follow you anywhere / so, do you honestly believe that i would let you disappear?

appointments - julien baker

i think if i ruin this / that i know i can live with it / nothing turns out like i pictured it / maybe the emptiness is just a lesson in canvases / i think if i fail again / that i know you're still listening / maybe it's all gonna turn out alright

good news - julien baker

in the thin air, my ribs creak / like wooden dining chairs when you see me / always scared that every situation ends the same / with a blank stare / me and the tap water circling the sink drain

callous - sasami

i know it's not your fault / you were born with a spoon in your throat / and a gun in your hand and a plan for yourself / i'm not grieving / it's just a matter of time and a matter of what / and you've known since birth what you like / and i'm happy for you until my face is blue

perfecto miserable - king krule

i guess i have to go / and in my silence / it's so menacing / and when i'm left alone / it's so damaging / and in this violence / the walls cave-in / i'm not able to escape it all

cold love - rainbow kitten surprise

chained to a lie, we're the same you and i, we're the same / not the same we hurt differently, but consistent in our pain / equal and equidistant in the way we laugh / to lay bear the weight of our cold love affair / recalling the days where we were, we weren't, we were

putting the dog to sleep - the antlers

unstitch that shit i've sewn / to close up the hole that tore through my skin / well, my trust in you is a dog with a broken leg / tendons too torn to beg for you to let me back in

black dog - arlo parks

i'd lick the grief right off your lips / sometimes it seems like you won't survive this / and honestly it's terrifying

famous last words - ethel cain

my lips are still burnt from kissing your face / and feverish forehead, the blood that you waste / i'm tired of this, watching it wash out of you

cementality - king krule

enter my bed through that window / i hit zero / as guiltless loveless sins flow / through me, you threw me / i descend smoothly / my concrete bed beckons / can you hear me?

out getting ribs - king krule

and lay me out across the grey / hours i should have kept at bay / well i had no chance to get away / i can't escape my own escape / even more when it's sweet to the taste / red stairs lead sense astray / i look up and seek for faith

is it really you? - loathe

face away / deal with the pain / your own way / how could they deal with the pain? / i knew / that it was mine too / and you? / is it really you?

baldpate driver - fleshwater

and a year goes by / just as silent as a tear on a face you hide / keep chasing heaven / i'm begging for the ending

nightmares - newdad

i wish you were everything i hate in the world / not the best person in it / don't want to love 'cause then i'll misbehave / don't want to think of you and feel safe / don't want to drown if there's another way / so at the end of the day / i hope you're in my nightmares / 'cause to dream of you is unfair

to rage - daughter

i left the room destroyed / oh, you know me in more ways than that / i split the walls for warmth, i shook your town / i smashed the floors / to rage, my love, back then / well, someone had to

i'd never loved a living thing so much / i was not equipped to just / sit and watch you quit on us

[aspoonofsugar]

Why was Sir Pentious redeemed before Angel dust despite it’s been shown how much Angel has been improving to be a better and healthier person?

Hi!

Structurally, it is because Angel is the Tritagonist, whereas Pentious isn't.

So, Angel's arc and "redemption" are probably gonna be explored throughout the whole series. This makes sense, as Angel has a lot of lore attached to him.

He has his ongoing conflict with Val, which is probably gonna get solved next season, as the Vees are the main antagonists

He has the relationship with his two siblings, Arackniss who is in Hell and Molly, who is in Heaven

He has his ongoing love story with Husk, which is probably gonna take some time as well and maybe it will flourish towards the end of the series

I think Angel is the character who is gonna deconstruct Charlie's idea of redemption the most tbh. After all, everyone speaks of him as if his "greatest sin" is that he is a drug addict... Except it isn't LOL... I mean, he was a gangster, who killed people, which is obviously a much worse sin :''') So, Angel works as a character everybody judges superficially by treating his most visible attributes (his dependance on drugs and his porn career) as the root of who he is. Still, the addiction and the abusive relationship with Valentino are both symptoms of his inner problems and flaws.

Pentious instead has the potential to deconstruct the "redemption by death trope". As for now, he has definitely subverted it already.

A redemption by death happens when a character redeems himself by dying, so that everyone can be saved/the villain is defeated. This sacrifice is usually portrayed as epic and it is pivotal in solving the conflict. Pentious attempts to do this, but fails miserably. He tries to take Adam down, by sacrificing himself, but in the end he is killed without accomplishing anything. His sacrifice starts sentimental and it ends in a joke. Still, he gets redeemed. Why? Because he acted out of selfless love. What matters in his case isn't the result, but rather the intention. What matters is that Pentious did it out of love:

You're gonna fight without gloves And when that push comes to shove Yeah, you just might rise above Long as you're out for love

He wasn't out for blood (killing Adam), but out for love (protecting his found family).

Still, a good action no matter how selfless can't fix all characters' flaws, which I think will get explored later on. In other words, Pentious is in Heaven, but it is not sure he has finished growing and so "redeeming" himself. This in itself could challenge Heaven's idea that ending up in Heaven means "you are good no matter what". If people can grow in Hell, then they can spiral in Heaven.

In short, Angel and Pentious are two different explorations of redemption. Speaking of which...

Thematically, Pentious gets redeemed before Angel to make it clear Charlie has no idea of what redemption really is or how it works. I mean, she is always wrong about it :P

Charlie: Yes! Oh bravo! Bravo! wow Pentious! At this rate, you'll be redeemed in no time.

Charlie starts by telling Pentious he is getting redeemed in no time because he is more performative than Angel. However, Pentious is just acting the part as he is secretly planning to spy the Hotel for the Vees.

Later on Charlie insists Angel is very close to getting redeemed:

Charlie: We have a patron right now who is making incredible progress! Adam: Who? Charlie: Angel Dust.

She is right Angel is getting better, but what Angel is doing is simply working on himself to heal and free himself from Val's control. It is definitely a prerequisite for him to make his better side emerge more. Still, it is just the start of his growth, rather than the end.

Finally, Sir Pentious gets redeemed in a way Charlie did not see coming. Not through her activities or her "redemption program" at the Hotel, but simply by loving others so much he is ready to die for them. Moreover, in that moment Pentious was not thinking about redeeming himself, so he was not being performative. In short, redemption is a much more complex thing Charlie thinks it is, as she herself admits by the end:

Charlie: I want you all to know… that getting to know you has been the biggest honor of my life. Whatever redemption really means, I know you all tried. I have seen the good in all of you. And it's…I-I'm just…I love you all, so much.

That said, our girl isn't the only one struggling with the idea of redemption. The truth is that everybody (Charlie, Adam, Sera, Lucifer) talks about redemption and debates if it is or isn't impossible. And yet, nobody knows what redemption even is nor can even agree on a common definition:

Charlie: Thank you, Seraphim. Webster's dictionary defines redemption as— Adam: Objection, lame and unoriginal. Sera: Sustained. No further dictionary references please

Charlie tries defining it, but Sera cleverly stops her. After all, if there is no agreement on what redemption even means, Sera doesn't have to recognize Demons are in fact capable of it. However, Charlie outsmarts her, as she asks Adam directly and the angel comes up with three rules of his own that Sera neither confirms or negates:

Vaggie: "Act selfless, don't steal, stick it to the man". Are you fucking serious? Adam: Uh, yeah. Sure got me here, didn't it? Right, Sera? Sera: He was the first human soul in Heaven…

So, Charlie proves Angel meets the requisites. However, Adam and Sera change the conditions, so that a virtuous Soul must necessarily pop up in Heaven... And well...

Get rekt Sera, I guess? If Angel meets Adam's conditions, then Pentious ends up meeting Sera's. All to make clear nobody knows when a person is truly "good" and when a person is truly "evil":

Charlie: Wait... none of you know what gets someone into Heaven?

Basically, no character has real "knowledge of good and evil". I guess they are not eating enough apples :P

In conclusion, I really like how Hazbin is approaching the theme of redemption so far because it is not offering answers, but it is asking questions. What does redemption mean? Are there some conditions to meet? Which ones? Is it simply sufficient for a soul to materialize in either Heaven or Hell to truly decide if they are good or evil? Are Heaven and Hell really forever?

[crystallizsch]

Hello Ian! ♡

I'm so glad you liked the first Jamiyuu fic I wrote! Here is the fic we discussed based on your glomas drawings!

I hope you enjoy! ♡

No matter the crowd, no matter the room, Jamil and Yuusha are always able to find each other somehow.

A masquerade where masks are adorn, identities meant to be concealed. Yet, here they were again, their eyes locking from across the room.

The ballroom was filled with people, some dancing while others mingled. Jamil stood near some of the others, looking around and taking in the sights. The room was extravagant, from the architecture, to the decor, to the outfits of those in attendance. His gaze lingered on the dance floor for a moment, watching couples as they twirled around. They looked to be in their own world, laughing and enjoying the company of their partner as they danced. The sight made Jamil's thoughts stray for a moment, imagining himself out there, dancing with Yuusha.

He shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind, his eyes leaving the dance floor. As he looked away he locked eyes with someone across the room, the very person that wouldn't leave his thoughts. It was just like at Night Raven, during one of Kalim's parties or in the halls, his eyes never failing to find Yuusha's. Just what was it about her, that he couldn't look away? Just what was it about her, that caused him to stare?

At first it wasn't anything nice, he had plans after all, goals that he needed to achieve. He had to keep an eye out, had to watch out for her, as he couldn't let anything, or anyone, interfere. Yet, as his plans crumbled before him, he found himself still looking, still watching, unable to look away. They had grown closer since then, closer than Jamil could have imagined.

He found himself smiling, his eyes still locked with Yuusha's as she smiled back. They've truly come far from how they started, Jamil closing his eyes as he turned away. As he was debating leaving, he heard someone approach him, a familiar voice behind him,

"Where do you think you're going?"

He turns to find Yuusha standing before him, her hand held out towards him,

"I believe you owe me a dance"

He looks at her, at her outstretched hand, and considers it. Here, they weren't Yuusha and Jamil. Here, they were strangers, their masks making their identities. As he takes her hand and they make their way to the dance floor, he pretends. He pretends that they met under better circumstances, holding her close. He pretends that she was his, as they twirl by other couples. He hopes this won't be their last dance, pretending the masquerade didn't have to end.

Oh, to dance with you, forever and always

No matter where or when, my hand will always reach out for you

My first dance, my last dance, the only dance I crave

Let my love move you, with the words I dare not say ♡

Thank you! ♡

(a reference to this)

HELP I AM SOBBINGG --

I’M JUST GIGGLING KICKING MY FEET EVERY TIME I REREAD THIS IM HNDBAJSHS THANK YOU

I REALLY LOVE YOUR TAKE ON MY GLOMAS POST IM NOT NORMAL ABOUT THIS --

my glomas brainrot hngghh and dancing is one of yuusha and jamil's love languages so i'm just ,,,, aaghhhh save me

BUT ANYWAYS IM GONNA RAMBLE A BIT -- (also i love the whole thing i just want to point out the things that im most crazy about hdshsj)

Just what was it about her, that he couldn't look away? Just what was it about her, that caused him to stare? At first it wasn't anything nice, he had plans after all, goals that he needed to achieve. He had to keep an eye out, had to watch out for her, as he couldn't let anything, or anyone, interfere. Yet, as his plans crumbled before him, he found himself still looking, still watching, unable to look away.

ur honor ;;; his plans are being foiled by this woman how is jamil going to save himself from this (he cannot)

AKHDJSKSJ OKAY SO

i’ve been crazy about the idea with jamil being having future plans for him and himself only and then suddenly he finds someone that he actually genuinely likes that he cant imagine those plans without them???

ugh good food good food i’m so happy this was here it is SO cute 😭💕

Here, they weren't Yuusha and Jamil. Here, they were strangers, their masks making their identities. As he takes her hand and they make their way to the dance floor, he pretends. He pretends that they met under better circumstances, holding her close. He pretends that she was his, as they twirl by other couples. He hopes this won't be their last dance, pretending the masquerade didn't have to end.

AUGHHH MY HEARTTT

jamil sir all you do is pretend it is time to let your true colors (and feelings) fly

i love that he is thinking about the what ifs and also how he is hoping he continues to spend time with her knowing it’s not gonna be possible

AND ALSO the line “they weren’t Yuusha and Jamil” and the following one -

i am goin insane about it i don’t know how to put it all properly into words but im gonna try --

like YEAH despite the masks, despite knowing who each other is underneath it, they don’t truly know each other, but it doesn’t matter because right now it’s just this dance, nothing else, and only each other 🥺🥺🥺

Oh, to dance with you, forever and always No matter where or when, my hand will always reach out for you My first dance, my last dance, the only dance I crave Let my love move you, with the words I dare not say ♡

AND THIS LAST PART ^^^^^^ I’M OBSESSED THAT YOU ENDED IT WITH THIS IT’S SO ADORABLE AND SO FLUFFY

my thoughts on this too is basically the last thing that i said about only being them in their own world basically especially with the last line ,,, oughh i’m just sobbinf --

AAHHHH ANYWAYS I ATE SO WELL WITH THESE SHEEP YOU HAVE NO IDEA THANK YOU

AND I COULDNT HELP IT BUT I DREW FOR THEM AGAIN AHHH

(ack the masks kind of hid their expressions so i didnt put it on them and i realized that’s kind of against the point but im stubborn and i NEED to show their expressions)

(also this hamilton lyric fits the vibe of this but omg this musical needs to leave me aloneeeee)

[cressthebest]

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 12

chapter 22:

1. 😟😟 all james wants is for sirius to be there for james the way james ALWAYS was for sirius

2. 😟 james wished hodge happy birthday even though hodge died yesterday. i- i am not okay

3. “Regulus never fails to look up. Evan would be proud of him for that, he thinks.” 😧 that was vile to put in there

4. james has resorted to BEGGING for medicine from sirius and can’t understand why sirius won’t send any. this hurts so bad

5. nope. i’m done. i can’t read any more. james started looking forward to death cause he would be out of this arena and out of pain. jfc i’m done

6. anyways. i’m back cause i couldn’t stop reading.

7. REGULUS AND JAMES ARE REUNITED!!! THANK GOD!!! 😊

8. 😧 wait nevermind. james just mistook regulus for sirius. “James has never, not once in his life under any circumstances, mistaken Regulus for Sirius”

9. james is delulu from medicine and reg just found out that the plan has always been to get reg home. this hits like a motherfucking truck

10. james is high as a fucking kite, can’t figure out why “sirius” is being mean to him, cause he’s never been mean to him. and is also wondering why “sirius” is oddly attractive for being mean

11. it takes james half a chapter, and reg cutting his shirt for james to realize it’s not sirius. cause sirius has different scars. i love james sm 😭😭

12. “What was Sirius thinking? Drugging James? In the middle of the fucking hunger games? That might be the most idiotic thing Regulus has ever known his brother to do, and this is Sirius he's talking about, so that's saying a lot. Sirius once flipped a cigarette in the air and tried to catch it with his mouth while it was lit, and kept doing it until he could actually consistently manage it, no matter how much it burned him. Though, in fairness, he can still do that trick to this day.”

LMAO WHAT??? that’s so random and i love it

13. 😧 legit sobbing. reg says that james lost the spark in his eyes. and he’s the one person he expected to never lose his spark

14. reg reveals that they both can go home. james’ spark is back. i’m sobbing harder now. they’re so in love

15. i eat, breathe, and dream those author end notes. bizzarestars writes their end notes the way my brain processes the fic. <33

chapter 23:

1. starting the chapter off with pain, i see. losing vanity changed james. like. horribly changed him.

2. “What Regulus hates more than James is his suffering.” jfc he’s so emotionally constipated

3. james is sad and all reg can think is hmmmm i want him to start flirting with me again, because it meant he was happy bitch wtf

4. awww they’re cuddling and just got a package! my babies are gonna make it out!

5. reg realizes he has to put on a show, so he offers to feed james. and wants to gouge his eyeballs out for offering that. 😭😭😭😭

6. i’m dying from embarrassment but this is also so fucking funny. reg is like. let’s talk about our feelings. for each other. and james is just like *head tilt* ???

7. “"You weren't my first crush, James," Regulus whispers. "You were my first love."”

james didn’t just make reg feel good, he made reg feel and i am NOT okay.

8. “This whole time, Regulus has been steady on the fact that he wouldn't kiss James to save his own life, but he's apparently willing to do it to save James'.”

JFC why is he so emotionally constipated???

9. THEY KISS????? james is gonna be heartbroken when he realizes it was all an act

10. oh thank god james realized. at least it broke his heart now and not in two weeks

11. *squints* now reg has never wanted anything more than this kiss. girl. please. realize.

12. god, i’ve never read a kiss more beautifully and emotionally desperate written.

13. 😏 reg called him baby again!

14. oh god, maybe i’m just as bad as everyone in the hallow. maybe i’m just as bad as them. cause i enjoy their romance. i enjoy it so much. maybe i’m just as bad as the hallow for that. i- i think this every time i read the hunger games.

15. “James wants to sink his teeth into Regulus and leave the deep imprints of his teeth from one jutting hip bone to the other.” sometimes i forget that jegulus is a little unhinged in ways like this. and every time i’m reminded, I LOVE IT

16. “"You treat me like I'm stupid for daring to see good in people, but if there's no good in anyone, then what's the fucking point?"”

this entire section. this. this is what james is all about

17. 😟 authors note just told me i’m no better than a hallow. for my excitement over jegulus. and- yeah. i guess so. i’m so sorry y’all

[dear--mars]

Bloodthirsty

── Synopsis: "The sun gave earth the most light but the earth is slowly destroying itself." Childe wasn't made for love and he knew this. So why does he keep trying? And why do you keep letting him try? Opening your arms for him to fall into even after everything, showing him such warmth that he thought he could only get from the sun.

── Character: Childe/Tartagliaa/Ajax

── CW: Toixc relationships, fighting, taking it too far.

── Notes: This is my 2nd and LAST birthday post. Enjoy the angst. [angst/slight comfort]

── Word count: 800+ words

Ever since he fell into the abyss, the euphoric feeling and the adrenaline that fighting gave him was one of a kind. As friendly as he seemed to outside people, he couldn’t care less about anyone other than his immediate family. 

He didn’t feel the need to connect with others, they would only get in the way. They don’t get him the way fighting does. Fighting doesn’t need to be logical, it didn’t have feelings he pretended to care about. In the world he was living in, he only needed himself and his own two fists. 

Being one of the Fatui harbingers didn’t help him either. If anything it made him worse. Childe became a slave to the adrenaline and the Tsaritsa took advantage of it, using him as a killing machine. 

But Childe never batted an eye, he knew that the Fatui was using him but it didn’t matter to him. He couldn’t be happier to be fighting and with his position as a harbinger, he gets paid an absurd amount of money for doing something he loves doing. Not to mention he’s able to support his family as an extra bonus.

He’s a family man but at his core, he's no better than a bloodthirsty dog. Someone like him is destined for violence, driven by anger, as he treats the world as if it’s only for conflict.

So what happens when he meets someone with the same kind of bite?

Your relationship with Childe was doomed to fail the moment it started. Both of you were too competitive, wanting to win everything, and treating everything like a competition. 

It was harmless at first. After a defeat, one of you would give a joking glare or side-eye before laughing it off and you’d be in each other’s arms at the end of the day, still madly in love. 

But as his work days get longer and your love fades, your competitions turns into more than just a lover’s quarrel or friendly banter. The two of you can't remember the last time you laughed together. Only screaming, yelling, and genuine arguing. But one day, he crossed a line he could never go back on.

“Well, at least, I didn’t try to kill myself over a minor inconvenience!” He yelled and the room stilled and Childe knew whatever happened after this day, your relationship would never go back to what it was before. 

You stayed silent, only able to hear the sound of your own voice. You bit your lip as anger took over you and you too, crossed the line. “At least I didn't run away from home because I was bored and fall into the abyss as a child and almost die!”

“You’re going there?!”

“Yeah, I am. What are you gonna do!?”

“Big talk coming from someone who almost got sexually assaulted and needed me to save them!”

“You bitch…. I don’t want to hear anything from the Tsaritsa’s lapdog!”

“I enjoy being in the Fatui!”

“I’m sure you do but your family doesn’t. I know you can see it. The way your parents and older siblings look at you, they're afraid of you. Because you're a monster. How are you going to feel when Tonia, Teucer, and Anthon find out who you really are?”

“Don’t spout any bullshit about family to me, when you killed yours with your own hands.”

“That wasn’t me! I was possessed!”

“It doesn’t matter, it was still your body, your hands that killed them. So who’s the real monster?”

“Still you! Can you even call yourself human with that foul legacy transformation of yours? You are the antithesis of what it means to be a human.”

“You know what? I’m with this!”

“Yeah, run away like you always do.”

“No, [Name] I'm serious I'm done with this.”

“So you’re breaking up with me?”

“For a fact, I am!”

“Then just leave!” was the last thing uttered before Childe slammed his hands on the table before storming out of the house. You sighed before running your hand through your hair. You knew he’d be back in a couple of days. This was a routine for you two but now you were doubting if you guys could go back and pretend that nothing happened.

It had been over 5 days and Childe still didn’t come home and you started to think that it was truly the end of your relationship. But you heard the door open, your head shot toward the sound of the door slamming shut. You saw Childe walk in, he looked a bit disheveled, there were clear eye bags and his hair was even more of a mess than it usually was.

We had eye contact and you bit back your usual questions, asking where he was and such. You saw Childe’s shoulder sag a bit before he walked up to you. Your eyes widened when he flopped onto the couch, his head in your lap. It was clear he wasn’t able to get much sleep. 

You let out a sigh before running your fingers through his hair, comforting him. You felt Childe melt at your touch, letting out a small groan as he nuzzled into your lap even further. 

That argument was never brought up ever again…

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