#i combined two drafts into one post

[starry-bi-sky]

I'm in A Mood™ (stressed) so im going back to my roots of melting two character together into one person. So bruce wayne!danny fenton. Danny Fenton who, for eight years, grew up in a beautiful gothic manor with his mom and dad under the name "Bruce Wayne". Playing piano with his mother, running around the manor with his father.

Then when he's eight it's ripped away from him. There's blood on his hands and pearls pooling at his feet, and both his parents are dead in front of him.

And he gets shipped off to distant relatives "the Fentons" shortly after, Alfred close on his heels because someone needs to take care of him, someone that knows him. Bruce goes to the Fentons for the safety of anonymity. Gotham's press wants to sink its teeth into him.

Danny misses his city even if it took everything from him. There are shadows in his eyes and he's pale as a sheet even beside his distant cousins, and they change his name to "Danny Fenton' because nobody should know that their newest child was illustrious orphan Bruce Wayne.

They call him Bruce behind closed doors. Danny prefers it that way, he clings onto the name -- the one his parents gave him -- like a lifeline. He makes friends with Sam and Tucker. Tucker takes one look at the willowy, morbid little boy standing in the corner like a shade, ghosts in his eyes, and drags him out into the sunlight, and takes him over to Sam.

When Danny is twelve, he's still not over it -- and he's a little obsessed with the Fentons' research, with the morbid. He has books upon books on death, murder, detective work. Anything he can get his hands on. And stars. He loves stars.

Alfred owns the apartment next to them and comes over regularly. Danny clings to him.

When Danny is twelve, he's still quiet, meek, a shy little thing prone to being bullied. Freaky little Fenton with the night in his eyes and too-cold skin even before he put one foot in the grave. in a sleepover in his room with Sam and Tucker, he tells them the truth. They're his friends, he trusts them.

"My name is Bruce." he murmurs, voice quiet as the breeze, always quiet. he's staring at his star-covered sheets.

"Like Bruce Wayne?" Tucker asks, a joking tone in his voice.

Danny smiles a little, lamb-like with insecurity. "I am Bruce Wayne." And he takes them down to the lab, disrupting Maddie and Jack, to prove it. Sam tells them of her own wealth then shortly after. They start calling Danny "Bruce" in private too -- its trust. Thats what it is. It's trust.

Sam goes to media functions and comes back with aching feet and complaints on her tongue -- and Danny soaks it up all like a sponge, splayed across a beanbag chair with Tucker in her room. He's not envious of her, he used to go to events with his parents and they kept him safe from the ugly of Gotham's Elite. For the most part. He's had comments made at him, he doesn't miss them.

Alfred returns to the manor semi-regularly, Danny goes with him. he wanders the hallways and helps Alfred clean, the last thing either of them want is for their home to fall into disrepair. He brings Jazz with him next time, then Tucker, then Sam. They all help him clean, and he shows them his room. The one across from his parents', it feels strange.

When Danny dies when he's fourteen, the first adult he tells is Alfred. He and Jazz go over to his house more often than they stay in the Fentonworks building. At least at Alfred's, the food doesn't come to life. Alfred sits at the kitchen table and weeps when Danny tells him, Jazz is upstairs, and its just the two of them.

Danny's ghost form wears pearls around his wrist and the gloves look stained with some kind of black substance. He looks like a child who died in a lab accident, but he also looks like a child who has shadows dripping off his shoulders, curling at his feet, hanging from his eyes.

because amorphous blob batman has my heart always and danny/bruce will not escape it even in death even if that IS the only reason im giving him Mild BatBlob Vibes...so far

when they go to the manor, alfred helps danny make a pile of stones between Martha and Thomas' graves, nobody but the two of them (and sam and tucker) will know what it means. (not even bruce's children later down the line, not for a long, long time)

danny dives into ghost fighting on shaky feet and not half as witty as he once was in one world. he's skittish, skittering between blasts from shadow to shadow and clumsily making his way through each battle. but helping people lights a fire in him. he still has shadows dripping off his feet but there's a purpose in his eyes.

and god help him, he's going to help people.

[bemorekleinman]

Dear Evan Hansen Inspired Baby Names! 🥰🥰

autumn:

- from autumn smile apple orchard

- common name with a special hidden meaning

- aesthetically pleasing and rolls off the tongue!

star:

- like the stars on the cuffs of zoe’s jeans

- so unique ✨

- simple but cute

sherman:

- named after dr sherman, evan’s therapist

- #mentalhealthmatters

- your baby will grow up to become a healthcare professional

acorn:

- “you fell out of a tree? what are you, like, an acorn?

- nature-inspired for a calming vibe 😊

- can also be spelled as “aeykornne”, “aighccouryne”, etc. to make it even more special for your little bundle of joy!

sincereleigh

- inspired by sincerely me 💙

- pairs perfectly with the middle name “may” (from end of may or early june, and also sounds like “me” with a weird accent)

- perfectly encapsulates the overall theme of the show

a la mode

- “grab a scoop at a la mode”

- french names always have some extra pizzazz

- sweet and cool, just like your little one!

computer lab

- a pivotal location in DEH

- two first names will make your baby stand out!

- who doesn’t love a modern, high-tech name?

HP smart-tank 7602 wireless all-in-one cartridge-free ink printer

- possibly the printer connor threw at ms. g

- can be shortened into cute nicknames like “HP”, “seven-six-zero-two”, or “printy” ����️

- perfect for legal documents and job applications when your baby grows up!

[aria0fgold]

Seared like a songbird flying to the sun

A belated birthday gift for @misty-wisp ! Tried to combine references for both Swan Lake and Cendrillon >:3 (Linked the English cover I took the lyrics from for the title!)

[compacflt]

I am sad for your 'the end of the top gun era' that will come. Is there any possibility that even when you finish with all your ideas, someday you will still write icemav? Or are you done shipping icemav after everything is said?

i will never stop shipping or caring about icemav, they are my homeboys & my bffs

i just have other real world writing obligations i need to focus on once i post my extras (soon) 😞 have to start dedicating myself to my creative writing thesis & journalism work fully

Yeah if i have other ideas/motivation to finish old ideas i will definitely do that! It’s not goodbye forever

[dearest-meat-mutt]

“Why are you hiding your phone? You shouldn’t have any you’d want to hide on your ph-“ I get that but have you considered that I do not want to hear you ask about anything that I have on my screen? Like hi mom, oh this? This is a just fan-drawn image of Kim Kitsuragi from hit political, psychological, detective video game, Disco Elysium, on hit website Tumblr.com. No, I have not played the game before. No, I don’t think I will. No, I don’t think it has a lot to do with discos. No, I do not know what Elysium means. Yes, I actively sought out this image. Yes, I like this character. No, I didn’t draw it. Why did I look for images of this character? I just think he’s…neat, and I’m still trying to figure out if I wanna play this game. Yeah, I know to be careful on the internet. Yeah, ik most of your thoughts and opinions on politics and video games and art and Asian men. I do not particularly care. I am aight with politics. I do like video games. I like all art, yes, including anime and also before mentioned video games. I do like most men significantly and equally. I do know this is ironic given that I dress like a butch lesbian. Thank you for sharing your thoughts, though. Yes, it is regarded as a good game. No, I do not know if it’s a good game by your standards. I have Not played this game. Yeah, my battery is at 46% but I’ll charge it later. Yeah, the art style is “interesting”. No, the person who drew it is not my friend. Yeah, I like this artist. No, I don’t think I would recommend this fanartist’s work to you. Yeah, I like tumblr. No, I would NOT recommend getting a tumblr. For no reason in particular. Yeah, I can like and comment and reblog. Reblog means I showcase another person’s post on my own profile. It’s like Pinterest. I have lost over 15 years of my lifespan since we’ve started talking.

[sapphicwitchbitch]

Me telling my best friend how much better I'm feeling compared to how shit I felt at my worst four years ago

My brain: LAUNCH THE INSECURITIES, IMPOSTER SYNDROME, AND BODY IMAGE ISSUES!

[anadiasmount]

ana babes, hot tub/late night in the pool w jude fic please? i’ll pay u in infinite kisses💋 (btw no pressure ofc!)

by the edge - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: above!

wc: 2.1k | masterlist | jude's masterlist

psa : HIIII IMY ILYSMM, i'm sooooooo incredibly late to this, it's not even funny... but it has been in my drafts and i needed to finish this 😔 so here's summer! jude despite it being over... small suggestive content but not too in-depth. this is also insta au + fic combined!!

———— j.b ————

judebellingham added to their stories!

19 hrs ago | 9 mins ago

———— j.b ————

spottedcelebrity

liked by: popculture, thesun, dailymail, vouge, yourbestie, and 345,901 others!

spottedcelebrity: PHEW. we did not see this one coming! it’s looking like he’s finally showing off his lady, soft-launching her on his latest instagram story! stay tuned for more update and live show at 9pm!

username291: OH?? so he was actually being fr??

user09: the way no one saw this coming (im actually dying inside…)

username39: if you look closely that’s actually me!!!! 🤗

user21: girl bye-

username49: soft launching on his story is the bare minimum…

↪️ user11: isn’t that the point tho? who cares if it’s on his story? he just made a highlight dedicated to her 💋

username29: does anyone know who she is??

↪️ user19: no, he keeps her private.

↪️ username77: we don’t know that, maybe she doesn’t want to be in the public eye

↪️ user45: apparently she’s a business student at the university of madrid…

↪️ username86: people think it’s @ynusername but she’s private on everything so no one can clear that up

user74: oh! SHES GORGEOUS ??

———— j.b ————

ynusername added to their stories! 🔒

19 hrs ago | 12 hrs ago

———— j.b ————

“everyone on twitter is going crazy,” recalled jude, stepping out of the doorway. “why?” you laughed quesionably, unlocking your phone to check what he meant. you were rushed to see his fans eagerly wanting to know who you were, as jude had soft launched you on his latest post. they had not expected that one bit, now they we’re piecing to see who you were. 

it wasn’t anything new for you, as you had been doing that privately on your own instagram. the media knew he had a girlfriend, and jude respected your wishes to be private since it tended to be crazy hectic. yet the two of you liked to read comments late at night and see how theyre crazy theories came to light. 

“he was with his girlfriend at the airport, they both arrived with hats. she was very pretty and nice as well,” you read, feeling admiration at their comment. there was very few encounters you had together but all of them were positive to say the least which you were grateful for. the last thing you wanted was to be plastered in a tabloid of you being rude or mean. 

“a fan account pinned a comment earlier today, that you were a medical student and lived in norway? I never pictured it for it to get this crazy,” joked jude, hearing your laugh as you walked over to the mini bar. “do you want a drink? or would you like to share with me?” you asked, rubbing lime around the rim of the glass so you could coat with salt. 

“i’ll just take some sips out of yours,” replied jude, coming behind you to wrap his arms securely around your waist, placing kisses over your shoulder. jude watched as a you made the drink, eating fruit slices from the container you had bought in the morning. “i don’t know what it is, but the fruit here is so much better than the one in spain?” you say, jude immediately agreeing with you and going off how here he had the best mango ever. 

“careful, it's slippery,” jude gripped your hand and helped you get down the stairs carefully, making sure you wouldn't fall like he had done the first day here. the summer sea breeze was heavenly, reminiscing the last few days of summer with your boyfriend who seemed attached to you. jude’s second season at real madrid would start soon, and you were on your last year of uni. meaning this year would be hectic and stressful. 

yet right now all you could focus on was the palm trees leaves swaing, the late night sky, and the buzz feeling from your tropical drink. 

the past few days the two of you had spent exploring and having fun, taking tours around places, going ziplining, trying new foods, lots of walks along the shore, making seashell necklace and a bracelet for jude, and ending your nights like this, in the warm pool. you were grateful the place you had chosen to travel was sorta excluded from the world, being a private getaway without the media following around. 

“you okay? you seemed distracted,” jude asked swimming towards you where you lifted your hand to remove the water drops from his face. his sunkissed face from the past few days. you had to force him to wear sunscreen, listening to jude nag and complain he would be fine.  you knew this heat, humidity, and sun wasn't like the one in spain, easily burning in the first few seconds stepping outside. 

“i don’t want to leave, like ever,” you frowned and pouted your lip, jude chuckling as he picked you, wrapping your legs around his waist as his hands smoothed your bareback. “i don’t picture you as a thalassophile, with your little beach bag and sun hat,” jude joked earning a confused look from you. “a what?” you asked with narrowed eyes. 

“a thalassophile.”

“what even is that?” you giggled, your hand scratching the nape of his neck, as jude rested against the pool walls. “a thalassophile? it's someone who loves the ocean. for someone who claims they are the smarter one in the relationship, this is proving otherwise…” jude narrowed his eyes, resting his forehead against yours, seeing the warning look you threw at him. “as the smarter person in the relationship, i’m shocked you even know that word!” you gasp sarcastically. 

“hey! leave me alone…” jude tickled you making you swarm around and swim away from him, going to the edge of the pool where he followed. “what would you do? set up a small shop and sell souvenirs?” he teased, seeing how you looked away nonchalantly. “uhm yes? but mine wouldn’t be overpriced or aesthetic shops, i would bring the culture and actual diversity. give a tiny background of my items and what not…” you shrug with a shy smile, seeing jude’s eyes never leaving yours, watching how your lashes fluttered and iris dilate. 

“why are you looking at me like that? it makes me nervous, baby…” you admit with cheeks flushed, shaking your head. jude laughs and looks away, making you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. your pulse and heart racing with one simple glance from him. “does it? i didn’t know that,” he said carelessly, bringing you back into his embrace, tucking and brushing away your hair that covered your shy face. 

“stop lying…” you rolled your eyes playfully, feeling jude’s warm hands as they ran your sides and thighs. “if i'm a liar, why aren't my pants on fire?” he joked terribley, his brum accent appearing more than ever, which made the two of you burst out laughing. “you and your jokes i swear… you think you're the funniest person ever,” you tease, hearing jude gasp. “maybe because i am?” defended jude. 

you swam back to your drink, having to pull off from your clingy boyfriend, who complained the minute you were away. you finished it, after offering jude some, hearing the ice clink in the glass, only having the strawberry left, which you took a bite of. jude watched intensely, seeing your lips around the red fruit and leave a trail behind. 

he swallowed deeply as you stepped near him, feeling your arm wrap around his shoulders, coming between his legs, your tongue licking off the extra strawberry off your top lip as you offered him some. his eyes looked up into yours, tasting the bitter yet sweet taste from the fruit as he took a bite. he stood up, towering over you as you placed the stem in the cup, your back resting on the pool. 

“you're so beautiful y/n… absolutely stunning,” he whispered, seeing upon how his words had an effect on you. you traced your hands around his bare muscles, veins decorating along his arms, as his fingers tilted your chin to him, jude crashing his lips on yours. he deepens the kiss, managing to sneek his tongue into your mouth, groaning and pulling closer to him, his hand tugging you locks of hair from the back, making you let out a tiny moan. 

“tastes so much better from your lips,” he whispered, yet he didn’t stop, and you didn’t want him to. this was so different, so intimate, driven by lust. jude knew all your spots, and you learned his. he knew how to bring you to the edge, the movement, the words. so it wasn't a surprise when he pulled away, pressing your hips down onto him, kissing down your jaw to your sweetspot on your neck, sucking softly making you shiver and throw your head back. “mhm jude… what if someone sees?” you say worriedly.

“they won't… we’re alone here, it's just you and me.”

you leaned down and captured his lips again, smacking his shoulder gently. “not so fast,” you giggle, feeling as he fondled with the bowtie on your bikini. jude gave you a playful smile, knowing his intentions wouldn't be so innocent. “what i wasn’t doing anything,” jude shrugged. “right cause you never do, and especially on this trip…” you eye him down. 

“i just want to love and appreciate my girl.” 

“you have… i think this may be our favorite trip. it's something about this place i don’t know,” you blabber off, jude listening to every word, already making a future visits for the next years to come. maybe one day bring your kids to this paradise even himself grown to love. seeing you in a new environment, with your summer glow of happiness, he could get used to it. he would drop anything, even football, just to see you this radiant. it didn’t matter if it was in the sunlight or moonlight.

“you think our kids would love this place?” jude said suddenly making your crinkle your brows. “kids? you want to have kids with me?” you say unsurely, earning a confused glance from jude who tensed up. “yes… i wouldn’t picture anyone else,” jude replied, seeing how your eyes dazed from bewilderment to jovial. “you better not, you know how i am,” you give him a look. 

“trust me i know,” jude said, thinking back to the one time a girl wouldn’t get a hint he was with you, doing the upmost right in your face, flirting, touching him, following him. it didn’t help you were deep in with tequila shots, embarrassing the girl by calling her out in public. but she took the hint.

“i’m serious though y/n… i want everything and anything for you and us,” confessed jude, pecking your lips where you turned away shyly once again. “you don’t know the amount of times i think about our future. what were doing 5 years from now, our home, kids, hell pets even! i know you seriously want a cat, i’m willing to do whatever it is to see you smiling always…” he continued, your gazed bored into each other, as in a way of sealing this moment for eternity. 

“when you won the champions league that night, do you remember what i said to you?” you ask, seeing jude think about it, and by seeing his face you knew he was bound to say something silly. “i was really drunk that night, so i don’t recal much,” jude taunted, earning another gentle slap on his shoulder from you. 

“be serious!” you threatened with a huge grin.

“if you’re recalling when you promised a lifetime with me, confessed your love, and promised me that you’d stick with me forever? that you knew it was a complete different world when i was in it? that you wanted to continue making memories with me, no matter the sacrifices?” jude recalled, watching how your eyes became teary. “yes. i remember it all.”

you sniffed while also giggling, kissing jude deeply and messily once again. you notice how jude’s breathing accelerated, tugging you closer to him and keeping you steady, making you sigh in content. “i’ll never get tired of kissing you,” you admit, kissing his nose and a tiny mole he had at the end of his brow, as jude then twirled you both around, hearing the squeal of excitement escape your lips. 

“so about our babies-”

“babies?” 

“yes babies. i want more than 2 kids,” jude said with a huge smile, seeing how you gave him a look. “we’ll have one first and then see,” you state, seeing jude shake his head. “nuh uh, i’m not having that, especially when i heard you say to your best friends you would give me 6 kids when we met that night,” jude said smirking when he knew he had caught you. 

“YOU DID NOT HEAR THAT? OH MY GOD, YOU ACTUALLY HEARD THAT?”

the rest of the night, you and jude counted the stars, he even made another drink where he repeatedly insisted he wanted to repeat the kiss you once had. you even played those silly pool games where you threw a item in the pool and one of you had to find and retrieve it, a game of 2 truths and 1 lie, and recalling your earliest memories you could think of. 

towards the end of the night you sat on the edge of the pool, watching jude do some laps before he swam up to you. you clenched your legs together, when feeling his lips trail kisses up your thighs, forcing you to open them so he could continue on the inside of them. “what are you doing?” you shakily say, seeing jude look up to you as he placed a final kiss on a tiny scar you had. 

“nothing…” jude murmured, pulling you closer to him, where you now realized how this night would end. but you didn’t complain, because you wanted him that desperately too. showing him just how much you needed and wanted him. jude didn’t fight it either, having a taste by the pool side, to then carrying you into you room where he continued to show you, prove to you how special you were.  

“gonna take care of you, you deserve it angelito mio.”

———— j.b ————

judebellingham

liked by: ynusername, brahim, yourbestie, camavinga, vinijr, sophiaamelia, fedevalverde, vogue, spottedcelebrity, and 4,888,769 others!

judeballingham: living life it's fullest along with you mi angelito divino 🤍

comments:

ynusername: EEKKK!! ILYSM 😣😣😣😣

ynusername: still thinking how sunburnt you got...

vinijr: no invite?

↪️ judebellingham: do you have a gf?

jobebellingham: literally why

↪️ judebellingham: why not?

spottedcelebrity: HARD LAUNCH? IS EVERYONE BREATHING OKAY?

↪️ ynusername: no.

trentalexanderarnold: very demure, very cutesy!

username19: hard launch? oh wow!

user38: this is actually so crazy im??????

vogue: HEY JUDE!

———— j.b ————

ynusername 🔒-> 🔓

liked by: judebellingham, yourbestie, jobebellingham, jennaortega, monetmcmicheal, spottedcelebrity, rubendias, trentalexanderarnold, adidas, glossier, and 34,897 others!

ynusername: i LOVE my man!! ily ily ily!! happy gal in happy place with my man!! EEEKKKKK!!!!!!!!!! 💞💕♥️💘💖💓💗💝

comments:

judebellingham: i can't tell if this is sarcasm or your being fr...

↪️ jobebellingham: she hates you. she CAN'T stand you! blink twice if you need help y/n

ynusername: blinks three times **

judebellingham: strawberry kissed.

judebellingham: you're so sexy, i'm so in love with you.

judebellingham: another pool night?

↪️ ynusername: yess!! 🤭🤭

rubendias: lol.

↪️ user55: tea...

↪️ username76: OH? @spottedcelebrity take a look at this?

↪️ spottedcelebrity: yikes... ruben in the comments of THE y/n??

yourbestie: imy!! eek you're glowing!! 🥹🥹

username10: omg!! she has been soft-launching him for a YEAR?

user30: so we were right...

username85: ur a smart and gorgeous queen!

user99: stop i love them so much.

[leqonsluv3r]

girl!dad leon kennedy

—husband!leon kennedy being the best absolute girl dad out there, a headcanon list

loosely based off of this oneshot and this headcanon list <3

masterlist taglist

an: happy father’s day yall! i originally wasn’t going to post this for father’s day and post a request instead but this has been sitting in my drafts since i wrote that pregnancy request with leon. so i figured in honor of father’s day, here’s leon being an amazing girl dad or what i think he would be like as a girl dad. anyways, ill post a request this upcoming week. i love you all, pls reblog and like. you know the drill.

girl!dad leon who is infatuated with his daughter from the moment she’s born. he thinks that she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen besides his wife, of course.

girl!dad leon who buys his daughter only everything and anything that her little heart desires. doesn’t matter if she can talk yet, she has him wrapped around his finger. he will spoil the absolute shit out of her until asked not to.

girl!dad leon who watches cartoons with his daughter, holding her in his lap while his wife makes breakfast. doesn’t matter if it’s some stupid cartoon about talking dogs that fight crime, he’s just happy that his little girl is happy.

girl!dad leon that helps his wife pick out little outfits and dresses that somewhat match him, doesn’t matter if it’s corny. he just feels that it’s cute and there is no shame in that.

girl!dad leon who plays dress up with his daughter, dressing up like a fairy princess and dancing around. doesn’t matter if his wife is laughing hysterically and taking a ton of pictures, he’s the happiest when he hears his little girl laugh. her little giggles are proof enough that he’s doing something right with his life.

girl!dad leon who plays dolls with his daughter, making silly high pitched voices that he wasn’t aware he could conjure. his daughter is eating all of it up, every moment spent with her dad is a good one.

girl!dad leon who makes his daughter lunches for her first day at preschool, getting her whatever lunch box she desires and making sure that she’s all dressed up and ready. he packs her apples, some cheese and some fruit snacks, whatever else her little heart desires.

girl!dad leon who gets matching t-shirts with his little girl, one says daddy’s little trouble maker and the other says the trouble makers father. it makes his wife laugh and she takes a hundred pictures of their little girl and him wearing the matching t-shirts.

girl!dad leon who takes his daughter to the park, pushing her in the swings, getting to act so carefree with his daughter for the day. it’s free therapy that he never knew he needed. having his daughter is healing him one day at a time.

girl!dad leon who watches as his baby girl says her first words and watches her crawl, he showers her and praise and love, just like his wife. he hugs his baby girl and hoists her in the air, her little babbles and giggles making him feel like he’s living a dream. he never knew his life would be this good.

girl!dad leon who carry’s her around in a baby bjorn, casually walking around the grocery store with his little girl strapped to his chest. her little eyes looking up at him the entire time and making his heart melt. he’s getting softer by the day he swears and it’s all thanks to a combination of him and his wife’s genes wrapped up in a cute little baby.

girl!dad leon who buys his daughter a different stuffed animal after he comes back from every mission, watching her little face light up and yell, “daddy! daddy!” one of the few words she knows. it makes him glad he survived. his two girls safe under one roof is worth it if he has to see bloodshed and death every once in a while. their safety is more important and precious.

girl!dad leon who watches his daughter stumble around on her little legs to pick flowers in the backyard. every time she picks one, she brings it back to him and he holds it in his hand until he has enough for a small bouquet. he doesn’t have the heart to tell his little girl that they’re just weeds, she’s happy and that’s good enough for him.

girl!dad leon who celebrates his daughters first birthday with her and his wife. throwing her a small party with some of his friends and his wife’s friends, watching as his wife opens presents for their daughter. watching as her daughter gets a smash cake, burying her face in frosting and getting all dirty. normally he would hate the mess, but he’d never thought he’d get here. celebrating one year of having the best little girl ever and a loving wife. he really got lucky.

girl!dad leon who buys his daughter a little necklace that says “daddy’s princess” on it. he knows she’s only a year old and can’t really appreciate it yet, but he just wanted to get something special for his little girl. his baby’s first piece of jewelry (among many more if he has anything to say about it).

girl!dad leon who wakes up on father’s day with the biggest smile on his face. his wife and his little girl in the kitchen, cooking him the biggest breakfast known to man. he’s wearing that matching t-shirt he got all those months ago. he gets some heart shaped pancakes shaped like hearts, a card and a teddy bear that his daughters tiny hands hold out to him, says best daddy ever on the belly of the furry teddy. he feels his eyes water and grabs his tiny baby girl, pressing kisses to her head. does the same to his wife, showing his appreciation for having his little slice of serenity. he finally got his happy ending, one he never thought was possible. and he has his wife and daughter to thank for that.

taglist: @elihii @heartsforvin @argreion @sqiim @adollrable @leonkennedygvrl @laceycoffins @porcelainseashore @squazmine (taglist is linked above if you would like to join!!)

[dwaekkicidal]

after reading the biting lino thoughts I neeeeeed u to write pliant lino who for onceeeee let's u have ur way with him, like i totally agree he's THE bratty dom but he's feeling generous so he lets u do what u want plsplspls

im so sorry this is so late! i had this in my drafts and completely forgot to post it ><

the og post

lino who, for once in his life, doesn't know what to do with himself when you're sitting on his lap. your pretty lips that are glossy from your combined spit thanks to the heated makeout session you just had. your lips that are also swollen from the constant attention to his pecs, leaving little marks that make him moan quietly and make his dick twitch

he settles his hands on your hips, holding onto the last drops of his dominance as if his life is on the line until he eventually caves. he's so hard and his mind is so foggy from the various hickeys and bite marks that now litter his chest, some of which are even shaped like a heart as if to add more fuel to the fire <3

❥ pliant lino who finds himself sinking into the couch, just one big puddle, as you roll your hips forward and grind onto him. his chest and neck are red as he takes deep breaths, trying to ground himself from your onslaught

❥ pliant lino whose moans turn more high-pitched and whiney as you test the waters, grabbing his wrists and pinning them above his head on the top of the couch

❥ pliant lino who doesn't object, doesn't move a muscle, doesn't even blink for that matter. he sits there and lets it happen, his pretty boba eyes glossing over as he stares into your wide ones

❥ pliant lino who keeps his hands where you put them, not moving them an inch as you move your hands to pull his cock out of his boxers, pumping him with two hands.

❥ pliant lino who keens when a fat glob of ur spit drops from your shiny lips and lands right onto his throbbing tip. even more so when the squelching sounds seem to get louder and he cant help but spread his legs more and dig his fingers into where his hands rest, still at the top of the couch

❥ pliant lino who bucks his hips desperately, breathily moaning your name alongside throaty whines of how close he is

❥ pliant lino who, if you choose to edge him, will have the prettiest pleading face youve ever seen. no tears yet but you can see the frustration in his eyes and the twitch from his cock

❥ pliant lino who might even pout with a cute frown if not just make an angry face at you through his heaving breaths

❥ pliant lino who wont beg, especially if its the first time with no prior talk about it, but he wont hesitate to whine loudly and wrap his hands around your wrist, tugging you towards him and silently telling you what he wants and what to do

may or may not go dom mode after that hehe

❥ pliant lino who, if you do let him cum right then, will scrunch his face up and furrow his eyebrows as he cums. whether it be on your hands/face or even down your throat, he's gonna have his head thrown back and those big thighs are gonna squeeze around you with each spurt

❥ pliant lino who wants to touch you in some sort of way while this is going on. its mainly to keep him grounded, but he also craves the affection when his mind is reeling

❥ pliant lino who will lowkey fantasize about you overstimulating him if you ride out his orgasm for a little longer than normal

❥ pliant lino who will quickly feel feral and get a sudden urge fuck your brains out after this kind "present" you gave him

❥ pliant lino who, once you two are laying in bed after the fact, pulls an "i know i said that would never happen but... maybe we should do it again. soon. for... research purposes, yeah?"

i forgot to put my taglist hehe....

Taglists: (red=can't be tagged)

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess @kittycatkrissa

@nicora04 @chuuyaobsessed @moonlightndaydreams

[forgingtheblade]

DID YOU KNOW THAT MINECRAFT HAS LOOMS???, aka, THE WEAVING WRITEUP

part two: get that bad boy ON THE LOOM

part 1 part 3

weaving is, at its core, a series of incredibly tedious yet incredibly meditative tasks.

i don’t think i can make this post be a fully comprehensive how-to of those tasks, especially considering it’s been almost a year since i wove on a floor loom, but i will try my best :’)

the first part is tying the yarns on. when taking the warp threads off of the warping board (which i talked about in the last post!) i tie them into bundles of a specific amount of threads, evenly distributed across the full amount. each of those gets tied on individually to the back of the loom, which i forget the name of. these are spread out basically across 2 inches of finished width per bundle, or in my case 24 strings per. ish. since I was working with 200 warp threads.

After tying those on, they get cranked on to the back of the loom and pulled across the back to the front though the harnesses under tension, where it’s now time to thread the loom!

This style of loom works by lifting different combinations of threads by lifting each harness with a pedal. Raising different combinations of threads will create different designs, changing where the horizontal thread or weft is going over and under.

My plan was to create two banners on the same warp, and in order to not have to entirely rethread the loom after the first one, I threaded it in such a way that different patterns were possible. This was, perhaps predictably, tedious. I don’t really know exactly how to explain weaving drafts, but this is the one I was using to thread the loom. The horizontal row at the top corresponds to which of the four harnesses each thread goes through, while the vertical column on the right shows which combinations of pedals need to be pressed at what time to actually create this pattern.

(Weaving draft via Liz on Handweaving.net in 2004)

due to the nature of this draft, it’s also possible to use this threading to create a plain weave—a simple one thread up, one thread down pattern that’s probably your first thought when it comes to weaving. I wanted to create one banner in plain weave and one in the pattern weave above.

Threading was very tedious, but ultimately as long as I was paying attention and keeping meticulous track of where in the 46 thread wide loop I had left off when I had to leave, it wasn’t that bad.

After threading, the threads are individually pulled though the slots or dents on a reed, which serves as both the beater to knock threads into place and as a means to keep them perfectly spaced out while actually weaving.

Then, the threads are tied to another bar at the front of the loom, and you’re ready to weave!

Here’s the two different weave patterns I used for this project!

Each of these I created the V shape at the bottom by just progressively leaving more and more threads out of the weave as I worked my way back and forth. After taking them off the loom, the top and bottom were turned and hemmed on a sewing machine. i tied some of the excess threads on each banner into tassels!

My next post will be sharing some about the embroidery process to create the emblem itself, and my future plans for the pattern woven banner that still doesn’t have any embroidery on it.

[minhosbitterriver]

──── * ˚ ✦ ECHOES OF US ( stray kids )

❛ After a painful breakup, you and Jeongin struggle to maintain a civil front for your mutual friends, but when he accidentally calls you by your old pet name, unresolved emotions resurface, forcing you both to confront the lingering feelings between you.

𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 12.6k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 50 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Say hello to my very first long-fic! It took me an eternity to get this done, but I'm actually very proud of how it turned out! Also, my very rough draft for this was accidentally posted a few days ago, so if you saw that...no you didn't! This was anonymously requested! (Anon, I'm sorry it took me a hot minute to finally finish this, but I hope I made up for it with how long it ended up being 🫠) Reblogs for this teaser are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Mentions of sibling death and grief, very brief mention of a dysfunctional home, use of they-them pronouns for Y/N, brief explanation of sibling death, Y/N's sibling has their own name, mentions of being abandoned, heartbreak, awkward re-encounter after almost a year, discussions on mental health, a whole lot of angst, comforting ending, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

When Jeongin stepped through the door he had once shared with you, a sense of dread already coiled tightly around his heart, squeezing with every breath. He knew you'd kept your promise to move out by the end of the week, but the reality of it hit harder than he could have imagined. The front hallway, once cluttered with a chaotic jumble of shoes that you always left haphazardly by the entrance, now stood painfully bare, save for his own neatly aligned row of frequently worn sneakers. The absence of your presence echoed louder than any argument ever had, and suddenly he found himself longing for those moments of trivial annoyance—wishing, with a deep, aching desire, that he could quarrel with you about it just once more.

He kicked off his sneakers, setting them carefully amongst the rest of his now lonely footwear. For a moment, he stood there, hesitant, almost willing to call out your name, hoping against hope that you might answer from the bedroom or kitchen, your voice cutting through the oppressive silence that now smothered the apartment. But he knew better. He moved forward with heavy steps, not even bothering to put on his house slippers. The silence that greeted him as he wandered further inside was a deafening reminder of what he had lost. You were gone, and with you, the vibrant energy that had once filled these walls had vanished too.

The living room—once a collage of your combined tastes—was now stripped of the personal touches that made it home. The furniture remained, the couch where you both had laughed and argued, the coffee table marked with rings from careless mugs of tea during lazy mornings. Yet, all the little decorations, the framed art you insisted on hanging, the plants you’d tried so hard to keep alive—they had all disappeared with you. The emptiness was jarring, like a canvas half-painted and abruptly abandoned, leaving every wall and surface barren, the once warm and cozy atmosphere now reduced to a cold, unfamiliar space.

By the time Jeongin reached the bedroom, the last thread of his fragile composure snapped. The bed—where countless memories had been woven—was stripped down to its bare mattress, the sheets gone. The framed photographs of the two of you were turned face down on the bedside table, as if you couldn’t bear to look at them one last time. His eyes moved to the corner where your ridiculously large collection of stuffed animals had once spilled over, crowding half of the bed. That too was empty now. An overwhelming wave of loss washed over him, dragging him to his knees. 

Jeongin's breath came out in shaky gasps as he looked around the hollow shell of what had been your shared sanctuary. You were truly gone. Though he had been the one to end things between you, a decision made in a moment of confusion and pride, he was still hopelessly, painfully in love with you. The realization of his own foolishness crashed over him with unbearable weight, suffocating him in the silence that was once filled with your laughter, your presence, and your love.

Jeongin couldn’t summon a shred of resentment toward you, even if he tried. He understood, all too painfully, that everything that had unraveled between you over the past year was nothing but a sorrowful consequence of your grief. You had once been a soul overflowing with light, always searching for the silver lining amidst the clouds, a spirit who could find a glimmer of hope even in the darkest of times. You, who would often conspire with his mischievous best friend, Seungmin, forming a relentless duo to tease him until he’d feign a pout, forcing you to shower him with kisses until he laughed again. You, who came home every evening brimming with stories about the children you counseled at the school, your eyes alight with passion and care for each of them. All that Jeongin had loved so deeply about you seemed to have been buried alongside your sister, Nari, and this loss was a truth he still grappled with, even now.

As he crawled onto the empty, cold bed that had once been a warm sanctuary for both of you, Jeongin curled into himself, his body folding inward as if trying to shield himself from the harsh reality. His sobs came in ragged waves, tearing through him so violently that he trembled, his breath hitching with each shaky inhale. He missed you more than words could convey—he missed everything about you. The sound of your laughter echoed in his mind like a haunting melody, its tones shifting with your moods: soft and lyrical when merely amused, and loud, unrestrained when joy truly overwhelmed you. He missed those sounds, the ones that used to fill this now desolate space with life and love.

He missed the lazy afternoons you'd spend together, brainstorming new exercises for his music therapy sessions. Those moments would often devolve into impromptu concerts, filled with your carefree, barefoot dancing across the living room floor and his voice following your lead, blending into a harmony of shared happiness. It was in those moments that everything felt right in the world, where nothing existed but the two of you, lost in your own little universe of melodies and movements. He missed those afternoons like one misses the warmth of the sun after too many days of rain.

He missed teasing you in those quiet moments when you were deeply focused, often catching you sticking your tongue out ever so slightly—a quirk of concentration that never failed to endear him. He’d gently pinch it between his fingers, earning himself a mildly exasperated huff as you’d swat his hand away. But he knew that a smile would inevitably creep up on your lips, and you’d turn away to hide it, cheeks flushing with a mix of amusement and affection. It was the kind of simple, tender moment that spoke volumes about the depth of your bond, a bond that now felt irreparably severed.

Every corner of this home whispered memories of you, and he was haunted by them all—the good, the bad, the ones that made him laugh, and especially those that made him cry. Your absence left a void that nothing could fill, a hollow silence where there had once been laughter and love. And even though he knew it was your grief that had driven a wedge between you, he couldn’t help but wish he could find a way back to you, to the person you used to be, and to the love that once made him feel whole.

The night that shattered your world was meant to be a day of celebration: your younger sister Nari’s high school graduation. Jeongin could still see you in his mind's eye that morning, almost vibrating with pure, uncontainable joy. Your eyes were bright, brimming with excitement, and your smile—so wide and beautiful—tugged at his heart each time it graced your lips. Nari was the center of your universe, your pride, your joy, your true soulmate in a world that often felt uncertain and cold. You had been more than just a sister to her; you had been her guardian, her comforter, her everything. You were the one who took on the weight of raising her through the chaotic turmoil of your parents' messy divorce, providing stability where there was none. 

Jeongin could recall countless times Nari would recount how you shielded her from the constant, venomous arguments that echoed through your childhood home. Despite your own young age, you found ways to distract her, to pull her out of the chaos—whether it was with whispered jokes or made-up games that filled her mind with something brighter than the screaming. To Nari, you were a star, someone who had hung the moon just for her. She often spoke with a mix of awe and adoration about the afternoons you both spent sneaking into the little ice cream shop on the way home from school, spending hours laughing over melting cones until you were sure your mother had left for work. 

Jeongin also remembered the quiet, tender moments he would witness after you had graduated and moved out. Nights when Nari would sleep over, curled up beside you, as if you were her very own safe haven in a world that could be so unforgiving. There was a beauty in how you held her close, how you seemed to provide her with an anchor when everything else felt adrift. Yet, no relationship, no matter how deeply cherished, is without its storms. For as vividly as Jeongin could remember the soft, loving moments, he could just as clearly recall the bitter weeks leading up to Nari's graduation—weeks marked by harsh words and heated arguments.

You and Nari shared many things—your fierce loyalty, your protective instincts—but perhaps most notably, the sharp edge of your words. When tempers flared, both of you possessed a mercilessly cutting tongue that could lash out with a force that left deep, stinging wounds. Jeongin hated those fights, hated the cruel things you would shout at each other in the heat of the moment, words that cut so deeply and yet meant nothing once the anger faded. The conflict had started when Nari began dating an older guy who had already graduated. Neither you nor Jeongin liked him, sensing the danger in his recklessness, his penchant for illegal activities that threatened to drag your sister down a path she wasn't prepared for. But Nari, stubborn and convinced she had found the love of her life, refused to listen. The tension between you both grew unbearable, each argument driving another wedge between you and your beloved sister, and Jeongin could do nothing but stand helplessly on the sidelines, watching as she slowly pushed you away.

The real fracture came on what should have been a night of celebration. Nari was supposed to have dinner with you and Jeongin to celebrate her graduation. She promised to meet you both, to share in the joy of her achievement, but instead, she turned off her phone and ran off with her boyfriend to a party that everyone knew would be dangerous. For hours, you and Jeongin called and texted, reaching out to everyone who might have known where she was, each unanswered ring heightening the tension, every minute stretching into a painful eternity. 

And then, the call came—the one that brought your entire world crashing down. Nari had been found dead inside her boyfriend’s car. Both were intoxicated when he decided to drive, his recklessness steering them straight into a tree. The impact killed them both instantly. 

Jeongin would never forget the sound that tore through you in that moment, a wail of agony so deep and raw it seemed to shatter the very air around you. It was a sound that would forever echo in his heart, a haunting melody of a love lost too soon and a pain that could never be soothed.

The piercing sound of Jeongin's phone ringing in his back pocket cut through the thick, oppressive fog of memories that had been drowning him ever since he stepped into the cold, empty apartment that was once alive with the warmth of your shared moments. His body still trembled with the aftershocks of his own heartbreak, his face still wet with a cascade of tears that seemed endless. For a moment, he considered ignoring it, letting it fade away into the void of everything else that felt lost to him. But something compelled him to move, to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. The screen flashed with a name: Chan. 

Jeongin’s first instinct was to let it ring out. He wasn’t sure he could bear the gentle, pity-laden concern he knew he would hear in Chan’s voice. The idea of facing someone else’s worry, of being forced to articulate the emptiness clawing at his chest, felt like too much. But he also knew that Chan wasn’t just calling for the sake of it—he was worried. Maybe that thought, the notion that someone still cared enough to reach out, was what finally convinced Jeongin to answer. With a shaky breath, he pressed the phone to his ear.

“Yes?” His voice came out rough and broken, as if he’d swallowed shards of glass, a hoarse rasp that even he barely recognized. On the other end, there was a sharp intake of breath, a small hitch that spoke volumes, followed by the sound of Chan clearing his throat in that awkward, nervous way he had when he didn’t know how to approach a delicate subject.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” Chan’s voice was gentle, tentative, as if afraid that anything more might cause Jeongin to shatter completely. The simple question, so innocuous yet loaded with care, brought fresh tears to Jeongin’s eyes. He swallowed thickly, trying to keep his composure, not wanting to add more weight to Chan’s worry.

“As well as I can be...everything is gone.” The words felt heavy on his tongue, sinking like stones into the silence that followed. There was a sigh on the other end, deep and empathetic, filled with an understanding that was both comforting and unbearable.

“I’ll stop by later, yeah?” Chan’s offer came with a note of encouragement, trying to lift the heavy blanket of despair. “I can bring Minho so he can cook you some food, and we can figure out what comes next.” There was kindness in his words, an attempt to pull Jeongin from the pit he’d found himself in, but the weight pressing on Jeongin’s chest didn’t budge, didn’t ease in the slightest.

“Maybe another time, Channie, thank you,” Jeongin murmured, his voice carrying the exhaustion of someone who had been running a losing race against his own emotions. “I think I just need a few days alone.” The silence that stretched between them after was telling, thick with Chan’s unspoken disapproval. Jeongin could almost see the frown on his friend’s face, the way he’d be chewing on his lip, holding back what he really wanted to say.

Eventually, Chan spoke again, his tone carefully measured, almost as if he were walking on eggshells. “Right. Um, hey...Felix wanted to pay Y/N a visit to make sure everything’s alright and to help with the moving. The problem is, none of us really know where they moved, and we thought that maybe they might’ve told you or something?”

The mention of your name was like a punch to the gut, a sharp twist of the knife that had already been embedded in his heart. Jeongin’s breath caught, and he could feel his throat tightening, the sting of tears threatening to spill over once more. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to stay composed, to not break apart all over again.

“No,” he sighed after a moment, rolling onto his back and staring up at the empty, featureless ceiling that seemed to stretch on like an abyss. “I thought you guys would’ve known... but maybe Y/N needs some time alone for a while too. I’m sure they’ll call when they’re ready.”

The words felt hollow, a brittle hope that tasted more like ash on his tongue, but it was all he could offer. And in the silence that followed, Jeongin could only listen to the faint sound of Chan’s breathing, the weight of their shared helplessness settling in like a cold, unwelcome presence in the room.

Jeongin had clung to a fragile hope that, in time, you would reach out to the circle of friends who had once been your shared lifeline. He never imagined that you would confide in him directly—he knew all too well that the pain of his departure still festered like an open wound. You had made it painfully clear how much you resented him for breaking things off when you needed him most. He could still hear your voice, raw with anger and hurt, echoing in his mind as you stormed out of the apartment for the last time.

But never in his darkest nightmares had he expected you to vanish completely, as if swallowed by the earth itself. There wasn't even a whisper of your whereabouts, not the faintest trace left behind to hint at where you might have gone. It was as if you had been erased from existence. When you left, you didn't just walk out of Jeongin's life—you walked away from everything that had tied you to this place. You resigned from your job as a school counselor, the one located just a short distance from Jeongin’s apartment where you had once found solace in guiding young lives through their own turmoil. Your phone number had changed, your social media accounts lay abandoned and untouched, gathering digital dust like forgotten relics of a past life.

For what felt like an eternity, each member of your once tightly-knit group of friends wore the weight of worry like a second skin, tirelessly searching for any sign of you, some confirmation that you were still out there, somewhere, still breathing. Nights were spent in hushed conversations and whispered theories, each one more desperate than the last, wondering if you were even alive. The silence you left in your wake was deafening, a void that consumed every bit of hope they tried to hold onto.

Yet, as the months dragged on and there was still no word—no signal, no letter, not even a single fleeting message—Jeongin and the others were forced to confront a harsh new reality. The absence of your presence became a palpable thing, a hollow emptiness that settled in their chests. Slowly, reluctantly, they began to understand that they might never see you again. And in that painful understanding, they had no choice but to piece together their broken hearts and try, however feebly, to move forward. 

But even as they moved on, a part of Jeongin remained anchored in that lingering silence, waiting for the day it would finally break.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Eight months had passed since you vanished without a word, leaving behind a void that swallowed everything and everyone you once knew. Jeongin found himself seated on a low stool in the center of his sunlit office, a space designed to cradle broken spirits. The room was filled with warmth, the soft, earth-toned walls bathed in a gentle, golden glow that made it feel like a sanctuary amidst the chaos. Around him, cushions were scattered like islands of comfort, and the soft hum of a guitar rested against his body, its strings vibrating gently with each subtle shift of his calloused fingers.

In front of him, a small group sat in a circle, each person a vessel of silent sorrow. Some had their eyes shut tight, trying to shut out the world, while others stared ahead, their gazes distant, lost in the labyrinth of their own pain. Today’s session was centered around grief—a familiar theme that Jeongin had come to understand all too well. His eyes swept over the group, his expression soft and understanding, a silent invitation for them to share their burdens. Directly across from him, a young woman who had recently lost her mother sat rigid, her shoulders taut as bowstrings, her fingers anxiously picking at the frayed edge of her sleeve. Beside her, an elderly man kept his gaze fixed on his wrinkled hands, folded so tightly in his lap it seemed as if he was afraid he might fall apart if he let go.

Jeongin's fingers began to dance over the guitar strings, coaxing out a few gentle notes that floated through the room like a soft breeze on a warm day. The melody was simple, almost like a lullaby—tender and soothing, a soft hand reaching out in the enveloping darkness. It was a song he had crafted with your help, your voice whispering in his mind, guiding the melody with your mesmerizing ideas and gentle critiques. He tried not to think of you now, of the countless hours you'd spent together creating this very piece, but the memory lingered like a ghost.

“Let’s take a deep breath,” he murmured, his voice a low hum that barely rose above the delicate strumming. “Breathe in... and out. Feel the music as it moves through you.” His voice was smooth and warm as he began to sing, threading through the air like a comforting embrace. The lyrics were a balm for weary souls, speaking of finding peace amid the storm, of a quiet place where one could lay down their burdens. He watched the room with quiet intent, observing as the music began to weave its subtle magic.

The young woman’s shoulders, once so tense, began to loosen ever so slightly, her breath easing into a more natural rhythm. The elderly man’s grip on his hands softened, his fingers unclenching as if the melody had given him permission to let go, if only for a moment. Jeongin’s heart ached as he shifted the melody into a new key, a hint of melancholy now woven into the notes. His voice leaned into the emotion, allowing it to crack and falter in just the right places, like a mirror reflecting the fractures of a breaking heart.

He knew the power of those small imperfections—the way a slight fracture in the music could resonate with the cracks in a person’s soul, giving them the courage to confront their own pain. The room felt heavy with unspoken sorrow, yet somehow lighter, too, as if each note was drawing out a little of the darkness from within. And as he continued to sing, Jeongin allowed himself to feel the weight of his own grief, letting it pour into the song, knowing that sometimes, in the quiet beauty of shared pain, there was a kind of healing.

Moments later, a soft sob broke the fragile silence. The young woman's face crumpled as she brought a trembling hand to her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks in rivulets that caught the light. Jeongin’s heart ached for her, a deep, familiar pain unfurling in his chest. His mind flashed back to countless moments where he had seen that same expression etched across your own face—the anguish, the vulnerability. But he didn’t stop playing. Instead, he allowed the melody to swell, his fingers coaxing the guitar strings through the dark waters of sorrow and guiding them back toward a glimmer of hope, like a lighthouse in a storm.

“Let it out,” he murmured, his voice a soft, comforting undertone to the music. “There’s no need to hold back here.” His words were a gentle invitation, a permission to release the emotions that had been held back for far too long. And as if on cue, the room filled with the raw sounds of grief—soft, stifled sobs, muffled cries, the quiet sniffles of those who had long forgotten how to weep openly. Jeongin continued to play, his music becoming a vessel for their pain, a safe harbor where tears could flow without shame or judgment. 

Across the circle, he caught a glimpse of the elderly man, his head bowed low, his lips quivering as he mouthed the words of the song. His eyes were squeezed shut, as if trying to ward off a memory too painful to face. Jeongin’s gaze softened, and he let the melody shift, his fingers moving with practiced ease into something softer, gentler—like a lull after the fury of a storm. Each note was deliberate, a quiet caress to soothe the raw edges of the room's collective sorrow. He watched as the weight of grief began to lift, ever so slightly, and the room took a deep breath, exhaling the heaviness that had clung to them like a shadow.

When the final note faded into the stillness, Jeongin let the silence settle, heavy but not suffocating. He set his guitar down gently, his eyes meeting each person’s in turn, offering a silent acknowledgment of their pain. “Thank you for sharing this space with me,” he said, his voice a soft balm even as his own heart bore the scars of past regrets. Too often did Jeongin lose sleep over how he, despite his profession, had failed to help you through your own grief. “Grief is heavy, but together, we can carry it, even if just for a moment.”

The young woman wiped at her tears, her face still etched with the rawness of her emotions, but in her eyes, there was a faint spark—a glimmer of relief, as if, for the first time in a long while, she felt a little less alone. The elderly man’s shoulders sagged, a heavy breath escaping his lips, as though a burden had been lifted, if only for a moment. Jeongin offered a small, gentle smile, a subtle curve of his lips that spoke of understanding and quiet encouragement. He picked up his guitar again, fingers brushing against the strings with a familiar, comforting touch.

“How about we end with something light?” he suggested, strumming a few upbeat chords, his eyes brightening with a hint of mischief. “Maybe a song that reminds us of hope. Even when it’s hard to see, it’s always there… waiting for us.” His words hung in the air like a promise, a tender reminder that there was light even in the darkest of places.

And so, with his voice soft but steady, Jeongin led them into another song—one that spoke of healing, of finding strength in the most shattered places, and of a quiet, enduring joy that could bloom even in the darkest seasons of life. This was a song Jeongin had written and composed in the wake of your absence, in the silence that followed your sudden departure. It was a song born of hope, crafted in those long months of not knowing, a song he had always dreamed of sharing with you. And as he sang, he let that hope fill the room, weaving through the notes, a quiet, resilient thread that held the promise of brighter days.

Nearly thirty minutes had passed since the group therapy session had officially ended, but Jeongin's office was still filled with the quiet shuffling of his patients gradually making their way out. This wasn't unusual; some of them often lingered, seeking a few more moments to connect or share their thoughts, and Jeongin never minded. He found these moments invaluable—an opportunity to touch base, to offer a final bit of encouragement or reassurance. 

As Jeongin turned to watch the last patient leave, he was surprised to find his friend Changbin leaning against the doorframe. Changbin’s muscular arms were crossed over his broad chest, his eyes twinkling with a mix of admiration and amusement. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and it only grew wider when Jeongin’s gaze finally met his. "Bin," Jeongin greeted with a slight bow, his dimples appearing as he returned his friend's smile. He moved toward his desk on the opposite end of the room, a space that served as both his office and a therapy room within the clinic.

Without waiting for an invitation, Changbin followed him, settling himself comfortably into the leather chair meant for Jeongin. With a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, Jeongin let out a small huff of amusement at his friend's antics. He took a seat in one of the smaller chairs intended for his patients, his gaze fixed on Changbin. "What are you doing here?" Jeongin finally asked, watching his friend lounging back in the chair, hands interlocked casually behind his head.

Changbin's playful demeanor slowly shifted, his eyes losing their mischievous spark as they settled into something more serious. He sighed, leaning forward to rest his forearms on Jeongin's desk, the sudden shift in atmosphere making Jeongin's heart pick up a little in pace. He tried to keep his expression soft, maintaining a small smile even as he braced himself for whatever Changbin had come to say.

For a moment, the room was filled with a heavy silence as Changbin seemed to struggle with his words, his brows furrowing in thought. Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke, "You know how Yongbok and Hannie wanted to have a joint celebration for their birthdays this Friday, right?" Jeongin's brows knit together in confusion; he hadn’t expected such a mundane topic. Still, he nodded, waiting for the real reason behind Changbin's visit.

"Well, everything will be pretty much the same... but we wanted to tell you this before you showed up." Changbin paused, his worried eyes meeting Jeongin's increasingly anxious gaze. After a deep breath, he continued, "Y/N moved back here a little over a week ago and reached out to us almost immediately. We helped them settle back down, and we've been spending some time with them, catching up on everything. Yongbok and Hannie wanted them to be included in their birthday celebration, but we also wanted to check in with you. Make sure you're okay with that first."

Jeongin felt his entire world tilt on its axis, Changbin's words crashing into him like a wave he hadn’t braced for. A million questions stormed through his mind, so fast and furious that he couldn’t quite grasp a single one. "Wait." His hand shot up, signaling his need for a pause as he shifted forward, perching on the edge of his chair. His voice, tinged with betrayal and hurt, spilled out in a rushed breath, "What do you mean Y/N moved back here a week ago? Why am I just learning about this now?"

A look of guilt shadowed Changbin's face, his expression softening with regret. "Y/N asked us not to tell you for a little bit because they weren't ready to handle it yet... but now that everything's settled, they have a new job and everything—Y/N is ready to meet with you if you'd like." He hesitated, and a flicker of panic widened his eyes as he quickly added, "But you didn't hear that last part from me. Y/N wanted to be the one to reach out at some point today or tomorrow."

The silence that followed was heavy, all-consuming, wrapping around Jeongin like a thick fog. He struggled to wrap his mind around the news of your return, the idea of seeing you again so unexpectedly unsettling. The weight of your absence, the questions left unanswered, all resurfaced in that single moment, leaving him adrift in a sea of emotions he wasn’t prepared to face.

Jeongin didn't quite know how to feel about you moving back into town after leaving him without so much as a goodbye. The news of your return stirred a storm of emotions within him, each one more complicated than the last. On one hand, he understood your reasons for leaving—the desperate need to escape from everything that reminded you of your younger sister, Nari, and the weight of your relationship with him, which had grown heavy with grief and unresolved pain. He could see why you had to flee, to distance yourself from the memories that clung to every corner of the town like shadows that wouldn't let you breathe. 

But understanding didn't erase the sting of abandonment. Jeongin couldn't ignore the countless sleepless nights he’d endured, his mind spiraling into an abyss of what-ifs and could-have-beens. He thought back to the moments when your relationship had still felt beautiful and safe, long before it had quietly begun to crumble beneath the weight of tragedy. In truth, he realized, the love between you had started to fray the very moment you received the devastating news of Nari’s fatal accident. It had unraveled slowly, painfully, until there was nothing left but a hollow shell of what once was. By the time he officially ended things, the love you shared had already been gone, replaced by a haunting emptiness.

For months after you left, Jeongin had nearly driven himself to madness, caught in a vicious cycle of regret and self-blame. Every waking moment was spent agonizing over all the different ways he might have pulled you out of your grief. Could he have said something different, done something more? Could he have been more patient, more understanding? He had replayed these thoughts over and over, like a broken record stuck on a painful refrain. There was a time when he couldn’t even look at his own reflection without being reminded of his failure—his inability to be the anchor you needed in the storm of your sorrow. He blamed himself for your sudden departure, believing that if he had fought for you a little harder, if he had held on just a bit longer, maybe things would have turned out differently.

Slowly, though, Jeongin had begun to emerge from the shadows of his own grief. He had started to come to terms with the loss—not just of Nari, whom he had loved deeply through you, but also the loss of the future he had imagined with you by his side. He’d begun to accept that his own heartbreak, mixed with the suffocating weight of guilt, was something he needed to release in order to move forward. Jeongin had finally allowed himself to realize that in the grand scheme of things, staying by your side would have meant losing himself in the process, trying to bring back a version of you that had vanished the day Nari did. He’d come to understand that you were never going to be the same person again, and neither was he.

And now, just when he was starting to find a semblance of peace, you chose this moment to step back into his life. It felt like the ground he had just managed to steady himself on was beginning to shake once more. Jeongin wasn’t sure if he was ready to face you again, to reopen wounds that were only just beginning to scar over. Yet, there was also a flicker of something else—a hope, perhaps, or maybe just curiosity—about what this new chapter could bring. But whatever it was, it left him feeling unsettled, standing on the precipice of a past he had tried so hard to leave behind.

As his mind continued to swirl with a torrent of thoughts, Jeongin was startled by the bitterness that began to simmer beneath the surface of his heart. The resentment was unexpected, an emotion so potent that it almost frightened him. It clawed at him, leaving a sour taste in his mouth, a stark contrast to the calm demeanor he usually carried. But as his gaze lifted, his eyes locked with Changbin's, and he saw the concern etched in his friend's face. The anxiety in Changbin's sincere eyes was unmistakable, quietly tracking the cascade of emotions that flickered across Jeongin's vulnerable features like a storm passing through. 

Despite the sharp sting of betrayal—the feeling of being kept in the dark by his closest friends, who had not only hidden your return from him but also lied to him so they could spend time with you—Jeongin found a small measure of solace in Changbin’s quiet empathy. It was as if Changbin's presence anchored him, a silent reassurance that he wasn’t navigating these turbulent waters alone. In that brief moment, Jeongin’s chaotic thoughts cleared enough for him to take a deep, steadying breath. He slumped back into his chair, his eyes dropping to his sneakers, suddenly feeling the weight of his own exhaustion. His shoulders sagged, heavy with the burden of emotions he could no longer ignore.

"I don’t know if I’ll be ready to meet with Y/N before the party," Jeongin confessed in a low murmur meant only for Changbin’s ears. The sadness in his voice was unmistakable, a raw and tender ache that clung to every word. He took a moment, trying to gather his thoughts that seemed to scatter like leaves in the wind. "But I’m not going to stand in the way of Y/N joining the birthday party—especially since it’s not my place to decide that. I’ll still be there, and I want to be as civil as possible. So, please, don’t let anyone make it more awkward than it needs to be, or I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it."

His voice trembled by the end, his courage wavering as he finally lifted his eyes to meet Changbin's once more. There was a flicker of something fragile there, something almost hopeful, despite the tangled mess of his emotions. Changbin nodded, a soft smile pulling at his lips, a small gesture of gratitude and understanding. He stood up, moving closer to lay a firm, reassuring hand on Jeongin’s shoulder—a rare show of affection, knowing how Jeongin tended to shy away from touch, especially when his emotions were laid bare like this.

"I’ll talk to the boys," Changbin promised, his voice steady, grounding. It was the most he could offer in that moment, aware of how delicate the situation was. 

With that, Changbin turned and quietly exited Jeongin's office, leaving the younger man alone with his thoughts. The room seemed to close in around him, heavy with the weight of everything he was yet to fully comprehend. Jeongin remained seated, lost in the labyrinth of his own complicated emotions—anger, sadness, regret, and something else, something almost like a glimmer of hope—all swirling together in a chaotic dance that he had no idea how to untangle.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

In the three days leading up to the eagerly awaited joint birthday party on Friday—an event hosted by Chan for Felix and Jisung—Jeongin found himself ensnared in a relentless spiral of anxiety and anticipation. The looming prospect of encountering you after nearly a year of absence gnawed at him with a persistence that bordered on torment. He grappled with a thousand imagined scenarios, each one an intricate tapestry of potential outcomes and emotional landmines. The uncertainty was a constant, unsettling presence in his life.

Jeongin’s small apartment, once shared with you, had become a labyrinth of memories and regrets. He often wandered its confines, the soft thud of his footsteps a mournful echo of the unease that had taken residence in his chest. The apartment seemed to sigh with each step he took, as if mourning the lost echoes of a time when you had been there. Despite his efforts to bury himself in work, the thought of you lingered like an unwelcome shadow, a constant undercurrent that refused to be ignored. He would catch himself staring at his phone, repeatedly re-reading the message you had sent him just hours after Changbin’s visit—a message that had become both a lifeline and a tormentor.

Your text, which read: 

Hey, Jeongin. It’s been a while. I know I left without much of an explanation and cut off contact... I’m sorry for how I handled things. I’m sorry for a lot of things, actually. But I wasn’t in the best place back then, and I needed time to figure things out on my own. I’m back in town now, and I’d like to talk sometime if you’re open to it. No pressure—I just feel like there are a lot of things that were left unsaid between us. Take care!

Every time Jeongin read these words, a storm of emotions would churn within him. The initial formality of your greeting felt like a cold draft from a distant past, a stark contrast to the warmth that had once existed between you. The passage of time loomed large, a reminder of the endless stretch of days that had passed since your sudden disappearance. He was struck by a poignant blend of nostalgia and pain, the abruptness of your departure a constant reminder of how unfinished your story had been.

Your apology, though a balm of sorts, stirred a complicated mix of relief and frustration within him. On one hand, it acknowledged the hurt you had caused, but on the other, it left a multitude of unresolved questions hanging in the air. Why did you leave so suddenly? Why did you sever all contact? Jeongin understood that you were not in a good place and needed space, but that understanding did little to soothe the sting of abandonment he felt. The sense of being left in the dark, coupled with a profound sadness over his inability to help you, left him grappling with a blend of guilt and anger.

The mention of wanting to talk now jolted him, a surge of conflicting emotions rushing to the surface. He was torn between the desire to reconnect and the fear of reopening old wounds. The prospect of addressing the myriad of things left unsaid between you brought with it a flood of memories—regrets, unresolved issues, and a yearning for closure. Each re-reading of your message plunged him deeper into a whirlpool of complicated thoughts and emotions, the turbulence of his feelings both paralyzing and consuming.

Ultimately, Jeongin found himself unable to craft a suitable response, and so he chose silence. His decision not to reply was one shrouded in uncertainty, a choice that left him questioning whether it was the right one. The silence that followed was both a refuge and a torment, a delicate balance between preserving his own peace and the unresolved echo of your return.

The night of the party arrived under a canopy of crisp, clear sky, the stars shimmering with an almost mocking brilliance. Jeongin drifted through the evening like a specter, his senses overwhelmed by a world that seemed too bright, too noisy, and far too indifferent to his turmoil. His apartment, once a sanctuary, had become a chaotic jumble of discarded outfits—each one cast aside with a frustrated sigh and a sense of resignation. The fabric of his clothes lay strewn about like the remnants of a battle fought and lost against his own anxiety. Nothing felt right, and the more he tried, the more he was convinced that nothing ever would.

Eventually, he settled on a modest ensemble—simple, unobtrusive, and devoid of any hint of personal flair. As he dressed, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror, and what he saw was a stranger staring back—an image of confusion and trepidation. He attempted a smile, one that was supposed to be confident and reassuring, but it fell flat, a mere shadow of what he hoped to project. By the time he arrived at Chan's place, his nerves were a live wire, sparking and fizzing with every heartbeat.

The apartment, already abuzz with the lively hum of music and the warm murmur of laughter, was suffused with the rich, inviting aroma of a feast. Jeongin took a deep breath, steeling himself before stepping into the vibrant chaos. Felix, ever the beacon of warmth, was the first to greet him. His smile was a radiant crescent, eyes sparkling with the playful twinkle of a galaxy etched upon his cheeks and nose. Felix enveloped Jeongin in a tight, enthusiastic hug, and Jeongin could almost gauge the number of drinks Felix had indulged in by the exuberance of the embrace. As he disentangled himself from the fervent welcome, he was met with a slew of half-hidden concern and reassuring smiles that nearly suffocated him with their well-meaning pity.

He made his way to the kitchen, where the counter was a tableau of gifts—boxes and bags for Felix and Han piled high in cheerful disarray. Jeongin added his own contribution to the heap and then sought refuge in the cool solace of the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water to soothe his parched throat. But then, as if fate itself had conspired to make this night even more unbearable, you appeared in the kitchen doorway.

You had been laughing lightly, a melodic sound that seemed to dance on the air, but upon spotting Jeongin, you froze mid-step. The sight of you was like a flash of brilliance in an otherwise dim landscape. You looked as radiant as ever, with a glimmer of the light that had once illuminated your eyes returning to them—a light Jeongin had once lost himself in with reckless abandon. At that moment, the gravity of his own emotions hit him with a brutal clarity. Despite having ended the relationship, he realized with a heavy heart that he was still desperately, achingly in love with you. Even after nearly a year of separation, the feelings remain undiminished.

You slowly composed yourself, though your body remained taut with the remnants of surprise. The smile you gave him was both disarming and electrifying, sending a shiver through him. With a polite bow, you greeted him, your voice soft and warm as you said, “I’m really glad to see you again, Jeongin.” The way you spoke his name made his knees feel weak, the sheer depth of his longing crystallizing in that single, familiar sound. He had not fully grasped how much he had yearned to hear his name on your lips again until that very moment.

Unable to find words, Jeongin merely bowed in return, his smile shy and tremulous. He watched you turn and leave the kitchen with a hurried pace, your earlier purpose forgotten. The realization dawned on him that he might need more than just water to navigate the emotional maelstrom of the evening.

Chan's party was a sanctuary of familiarity, a gathering of a close-knit circle of friends who had weathered years together. The night had unfolded in a haze of laughter and lively banter, and now, as Jeongin found himself pleasantly intoxicated from the endless rounds of drinking games, he couldn't help but revel in the camaraderie that had once again enveloped the room. It felt undeniably comforting to have everyone gathered under one roof again, especially you.

The past year had cast a shadow over the group's dynamic, your absence an unspoken void that lingered between them, palpable despite the silence. Yet now, with your return, the room seemed to breathe with a renewed vitality. It was as though the very air had shifted, carrying with it a sense of ease that had been sorely missed. Jeongin observed you from a distance, his gaze drawn to you as you reengaged with the group. He noted with quiet awe how you moved through conversations with an effortless grace, the same grace that had once been your hallmark.

It was apparent that you had emerged from the clutches of your grief, a revelation that stirred a profound admiration within Jeongin. The way you laughed, genuinely and freely, was a testament to your resilience. Though you had left without a word, seeking solace far away, you had returned with a newfound lightness. The laughter that now danced from your lips was a melody Jeongin had missed, a balm for the aching absence that had haunted him throughout the past year.

Jeongin watched with a bittersweet smile as you engaged with everyone—how your eyes crinkled at the corners when joy sparked within you, how they would occasionally meet his gaze with a fleeting, shy acknowledgment before darting away, leaving behind a gentle blush. Each moment was a delicate brush stroke on the canvas of your reunion, painting a picture of someone who had found a way to heal and reconnect.

The sight of you dancing playfully with Han to a song you both claimed had been crafted just for you was particularly poignant. Your movements were a symphony of carefree delight, a stark contrast to the somber image Jeongin had harbored of you. In these shared, joyful moments, as you reintegrated into the tapestry of old friendships, Jeongin felt his heart tugged with an intensity that defied explanation.

Though the effects of alcohol swirled around him, amplifying emotions and blurring the edges of reality, Jeongin knew that the depth of his feelings for you transcended any inebriation. The love he harbored was as real and potent as ever, a force that no amount of alcohol could replicate or diminish. He was falling for you once more, each glance and shared laugh reaffirming the connection that had never truly faded, only waiting for the right moment to reawaken.

Despite the undeniable truth of his lingering affection for you, Jeongin remained uncertain of how to navigate these turbulent emotions. For now, he chose to keep his feelings veiled in silence, retreating into the solitude of his thoughts. The haze of confusion was abruptly dispelled by the firm, reassuring weight of Minho’s hand settling on his shoulder, grounding him in the present moment.

Minho, his eyes glazed with the soft blur of alcohol—though not nearly as intoxicated as Felix and Han—clapped his hands together, a signal for attention. His voice, amplified by cupped hands, cut through the ambient noise of music and conversation. "Guys! Guys!" he bellowed, drawing the attention of the increasingly inebriated crowd. The room fell into a collective hush, eager eyes fixed on Minho as he continued with a grin that spoke of mischief. "As per Yongbok’s request, we’re about to kick off a game of UNO! But there’s a twist: every time someone lands a Plus Four card, we all take a shot. And the loser—well, they get a revolting concoction of mixed alcohols and juices!"

The announcement ignited a burst of enthusiastic cheers, the crowd’s energy crackling with anticipation. Laughter and playful shoves accompanied the clumsy shuffle to the circular coffee table at the heart of the living room. Jeongin, with a flicker of hope in his heart, watched as you navigated the sea of friends. His wish to have you beside him was met with a hint of disappointment as you chose a seat directly across from him, nestled between Hyunjin and Seungmin.

The seating arrangement became a familiar circle of camaraderie and chaos: You directly across from Jeongin, Seungmin to your right, Chan to Seungmin’s right, Felix to Chan’s right, Jeongin to Felix’s right, Minho to Jeongin’s right, Han to Minho’s right, Changbin to Hyunjin’s right, and Hyunjin bridging the gap between you and Changbin. The table soon overflowed with the raucous sound of drunken laughter, mischievous plotting, and playful bickering.

Jeongin found himself in an unexpected streak of triumph, his luck seemingly endless as he conquered each round of UNO. The others began to whisper suspicions of cheating, their playful accusations accompanied by slurred speech and tipsy frustration. Chan’s voice, tinged with exasperation, rose above the din. "How is it even possible that you’ve been winning non-stop?" he demanded, his words distorted by a chorus of drinks and Seungmin’s relentless strategy.

Jeongin rolled his eyes, a gesture that had become almost automatic in the face of such claims. Han, who had just suffered the fate of the foul concoction, gagged dramatically as he placed the empty cup down with a groan. The room’s attention shifted to you as you slammed your palm onto the table, a spark of mischief lighting up your eyes. The gesture was a beacon of playful challenge, and it made Jeongin’s heart flutter unexpectedly.

"Stand up then, if you’re not cheating," you teased, your voice laced with both suspicion and amusement. The room buzzed with agreement, and Jeongin could not suppress the smile that tugged at his lips as he rose to his feet. He had sobered somewhat since the game began, the action feeling less consequential for him than for the others.

Throughout the night, the games were interspersed with moments of easy banter between you and Jeongin, a reminder of the lighthearted days before the heartache had set in. Each playful remark, every shared glance, and the way you laughed at his jokes tugged at him, rekindling memories of warmth and affection. The realization of how deeply he missed the feeling of being in love with you clenched his heart painfully.

As Jeongin turned around slowly to prove his hands were empty, he couldn’t resist a smirk. "You didn’t empty out your pockets," you persisted, your stubbornness both charming and exasperating.

He met your gaze with a playful smirk of his own, the words slipping out before he could fully process their impact. "Come on, baby, don’t be like that," he said, his tone teasing.

The room fell silent in stunned unison, the playful atmosphere abruptly shifting to one of surprise and second-hand embarrassment. The weight of Jeongin’s unintended endearment hung in the air, leaving everyone, including him, to grapple with the sudden shift in the night’s delicate balance.

Jeongin’s heart sank as he watched the color drain from your face, a pallor of shock and disbelief that spoke volumes in the charged silence that followed. The name he had unintentionally let slip—a relic of a time when you were together—seemed to strike a chord deep within you. For a fleeting moment, your eyes revealed a heartache that cut through the pretense of composure you so desperately tried to maintain. The expression of hurt was almost palpable, like a silent scream against the fabric of the night.

You managed to reassemble yourself with a stubborn facade of mischief, your smile a delicate mask that barely concealed the storm within. Your words, though laced with playful banter, seemed to cut through the tension with a sharp edge. "I just think it's unnatural how many times you’ve won," you remarked with a smirk that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Jeongin’s slip-up hung in the air, a tangible weight that seemed to sour the atmosphere of the gathering. Despite your attempt to downplay the incident with a light-hearted quip, the sting of the old nickname echoed like a ghost of past intimacy, making the room feel suddenly foreign and strained. The previously buoyant mood had shifted, leaving behind an undercurrent of unease that neither the laughter nor the playful jabs could dispel.

Jeongin could feel the churning turmoil within him, his heart pounding relentlessly in his chest. The game continued around him, but he found himself withdrawing, purposefully avoiding your gaze. Each stolen glance, each forced smile, was a reminder of the painful reminder of how things had changed. The night, which had started with such promise, now felt heavy and laden with unresolved emotions.

As the hour grew late and the laughter waned, the group, sensing the shift in energy, collectively decided it was time to call it a night. The revelry that had marked the evening dissolved into a subdued murmur as everyone prepared to leave. For Jeongin, the end of the night came as a relief, though it was tinged with a sense of lingering regret and an unspoken wish for things to be different.

As Jeongin made his way through the dimly lit apartment, exchanging farewells with the departing guests, he caught a fleeting glimpse of you darting out of the building. His heart, already heavy with a tumultuous mix of emotions, quickened its pace as he instinctively sought to follow. With an urgency driven by both concern and an aching need to make things right, Jeongin scrambled to retrieve his jacket and pull on his shoes, the night air already beginning to bite at his skin as he hurried after you.

He managed to intercept you just as you stepped out onto the cold street. Your name slipped from his lips before he could catch it, a desperate utterance that hung in the frosty air between you. You paused, your breath visible in the night’s chill, and both of you stood there for a moment, hearts racing in unison. Jeongin's breath came in ragged bursts as he caught up with you, the weight of his impulsive actions settling heavily on his shoulders.

“Let me walk you home,” Jeongin implored, his voice trembling slightly with a mixture of anxiety and hope. The words, simple yet laden with his longing, seemed to hang in the air, as though the night itself held its breath in anticipation of your response. Your eyes softened, reflecting a tempest of emotions as they met his, and your lips parted slightly as if struggling to find the right words.

Instead of speaking, you turned and began walking forward, your steps deliberate yet hesitant. Jeongin, interpreting your silence as tacit consent, fell into step beside you. The street stretched out before you, unfamiliar and shadowed, and the air between you was charged with unspoken sentiments and lingering regrets. Walking side by side felt oddly reminiscent of days gone by, a bittersweet echo of times shared with friends, now tinged with the ache of what had been lost.

In the week since Jeongin learned of your return, he had been trapped in a cycle of conflicting emotions. The pangs of missing you, of realizing the depth of his feelings that still burned despite everything, battled with the frustration of your unexplained departure. Each time anger threatened to overwhelm him, guilt swiftly followed, a reminder of the suffering you must have endured. His internal struggle was a storm of longing and resentment, a turbulent sea he had yet to navigate.

As he stole glances at your profile in the dim streetlight, the familiar contours of your face brought an unexpected rush of grief. Memories of your younger sister, Nari, flooded his mind—her laughter, a joyful sound that once filled the air, her enthusiastic embraces that had always greeted him with warmth. Your eyes, once so bright with shared mirth, now seemed dimmed by her absence.

The realization that Nari would never again tackle him in playful greeting, that her laughter would never again ring out, was a heavy burden. It pressed down on Jeongin’s heart, a reminder of the irreplaceable void left behind. The twinkle that once danced in your eyes when you laughed at Nari's jokes was now a distant memory, a reminder of how deeply her loss had affected both of you. As you walked together through the unfamiliar streets, the weight of these lost joys seemed to bear down on Jeongin, making each step feel heavier than the last.

Engulfed in the whirlpool of his own somber reflections, Jeongin barely noticed when you came to a halt before an old, weathered apartment building. Absorbed in his tumultuous thoughts, he continued forward for a few steps, his mind adrift in a sea of regret and longing. It was only when the melodic sound of your giggle reached his ears, a playful echo that cut through the fog of his melancholy, that he realized he was walking alone. With a start, he turned, his face flushing with a sheepish smile as he moved to stand before you.

You were standing there, your knuckles clenched tightly around the strap of your bag, a telltale sign of the anxiety simmering beneath the surface. Your lips were caught between your teeth, a nervous habit that Jeongin had come to know all too well. The sight of your distress mirrored his own internal turmoil, causing his foot to tap restlessly on the pavement as he waited for you to speak. The tension in the air was palpable, a heavy shroud that seemed to settle between you.

After a few moments of strained silence, you released a shaky breath and offered him a small, timid smile. "It was good to see you again," you said softly, the words tinged with a trace of the anxiety that laced your voice. It was the same sentiment you had voiced earlier in the night, when you had first reappeared in Chan's kitchen after an eight-month absence.

This time, Jeongin’s response came with a gravity that reflected the depth of your absence. "I’m glad you came back," he said, his voice carrying the weight of the months spent apart, yet softened by a flicker of genuine contentment.

Your smile, though hesitant, shone brightly against the backdrop of the night. It was a beacon that pierced through the haze of Jeongin’s heartache, and despite the unresolved tension, he couldn’t help but return it with a warm, albeit uncertain, smile of his own. The air between you crackled with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings, a delicate balance between the urge to bridge the gap and the inability to articulate the depth of your emotions.

As you cast an awkward glance back at the entrance of your apartment, Jeongin understood that you were grappling with the same indecision that plagued him. "This is me," you said, your voice betraying a trace of nervousness as you cleared your throat. "My place is a bit of a distance from our—sorry, your apartment. If you’re comfortable, I can offer you my couch for the night."

Despite the initial reluctance that had gripped him, the prospect of spending more time with you, however fleeting, was too inviting to resist. Jeongin found himself smiling softly, a gesture of acceptance that was both hesitant and heartfelt. Your genuine, wide smile in response seemed to illuminate the night, lifting the veil of uncertainty that had surrounded him. With a renewed sense of hope and a lingering trace of longing, Jeongin followed you inside, each step towards your apartment a tentative step towards mending the fragile thread that connected your hearts.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Your new apartment, though modest in size, exudes a quiet charm, nestled in a serene part of town far removed from the familiar streets you once traversed with Jeongin. The moment he crosses the threshold, he is enveloped by a dissonance of emotions—a strange fusion of comfort and estrangement. The space is distinctly different from the apartment you once shared, yet your presence lingers in every corner, making Jeongin feel both intimately connected and like an outsider peering into a world that has shifted just out of reach.

The living room, modestly furnished, reflects a minimalist elegance. A soft, neutral-colored couch rests against the wall, draped with a knitted throw blanket that adds a touch of warmth. This room is a far cry from the eclectic mix of your past home—a space once filled with a vibrant blend of your belongings and his—but it still bears the subtle imprint of your personality. A small shelf brims with books, many titles familiar from your old collection, but new ones have also appeared, whispering of the changes and growth you’ve experienced in your absence. The windowsill cradles a few houseplants, their greenery a delicate contrast to the sprawling flora that once filled your old living space. They are smaller, more contained, reflecting a more subdued chapter of your life.

Jeongin’s gaze drifts to the walls, bare and unadorned, stark in their emptiness. Gone are the framed photos and art prints that once animated every corner of your shared apartment. The absence of pictures—particularly those of the two of you—leaves an unexpected sting, a painful reminder of what has been left behind. Instead, there is a single framed photograph of your younger sister on a side table by the window, surrounded by a cluster of candles. It stands as a quiet tribute, a poignant memorial that tugs at Jeongin’s heartstrings, reminding him of the grief that ultimately drove a wedge between you both.

The apartment is imbued with a subdued quietness, a stark contrast to the lively energy of your former home, where laughter and soft music once intertwined to create a vibrant ambiance. Here, the atmosphere is more solitary, introspective, as if the space has been intentionally crafted as a sanctuary for healing—a refuge from the chaos of the past. A small kitchen table, cluttered with a few empty glasses and a half-read book, suggests many solitary evenings spent with your thoughts, lost in the pages or gazing into the distance, ensnared by memories.

The kitchen itself bears no evidence of the late-night culinary adventures you used to drag him into, those joyous moments of laughter and flour-covered countertops. As Jeongin takes in the scene, he is overwhelmed by a complex weave of emotions—nostalgia for what was, sorrow for what has been lost, and a poignant ache for the version of you who now stands before him. The differences are striking, revealing a careful, deliberate solitude you’ve constructed around yourself in this new space. It feels as though you’ve created a bubble of tranquility, a place where you can breathe freely from the weight of the past, and he wonders if there is still a place for him within it or if you have moved on to a new chapter without him.

The emptiness of your new apartment weighs heavily on him. It’s not merely the physical void but the absence of the vibrant, unfiltered you that he used to know. Standing there, a guest in what might have been his world, Jeongin is acutely aware of how much has changed and how deeply he still yearns for the comfort of what once was, now replaced by the stark reality of what is.

As Jeongin steps into your new apartment, he takes in its subtle details with a blend of curiosity and nostalgia. You move about with a quiet, almost anxious energy, as if the mere act of tidying is a way to manage the fluttering tension between you. Your hands, unsure of their purpose, engage in small, inconsequential tasks: smoothing the corner of the knitted blanket draped over the couch, adjusting the book that rests on the kitchen table, and shifting a houseplant slightly to the left. It is evident that you are aware of his gaze, but you strive to give him space to absorb his surroundings.

The silence stretches until you break it, your voice soft yet resolute. "It's not much, but... it's mine." There’s a delicate balance in your tone, a mixture of pride laced with vulnerability. You glance at him, seeking to gauge his reaction, your eyes reflecting a world of untold emotions. As you move towards the small kitchen area, you open a cabinet and retrieve two glasses. "Do you want some water? Tea? I think I have some wine if you'd prefer that." Your words tumble out in a gentle stream, an attempt to fill the quiet with something tangible, yet they carry an earnestness that reveals your underlying uncertainty about where you both stand.

Jeongin watches you, his gaze softening as he observes the careful grace of your movements—each gesture imbued with a quiet protectiveness, as if you're safeguarding something tender within yourself. The silence deepens for a moment before he responds, his voice subdued and tentative. "Water's fine." It is clear that he is navigating this new terrain with caution, his tone reflective of the delicate balance between past familiarity and present distance. You nod and move towards the fridge, your back turned to him as you pour the water.

Jeongin’s eyes wander around the apartment once more, deliberately avoiding the back of your head as you focus on the task at hand. When you hand him the glass, your fingers brush against his, sending a shiver through him. It’s a sensation he’s not quite accustomed to after all this time apart. He accepts the glass with a quiet "thanks," savoring the cool water as it soothes his dry throat. 

"Let’s sit," you suggest, motioning towards the couch. There is a steadiness in your voice that carries a quiet confidence, reminiscent of the times you had managed to ground him amidst the chaos. Jeongin follows you and settles beside you on the couch. The cushions feel foreign and different from those he remembers, amplifying his sense of longing for the comfort of the home you once shared. 

For a brief moment, Jeongin is at a loss for words, overwhelmed by the tangled emotions in his chest. He is unsure where to begin, but you gently ease the tension. "How’s work been?" you inquire, your voice a soothing balm to the heaviness in the room. "Are you still at the same clinic?" 

Grateful for the opening, Jeongin nods. "Yeah, still there. We started a new program recently... working with kids who've been through some really tough stuff. It’s been challenging, but rewarding." He watches as your eyes soften, a sign of the empathy and kindness he’s always admired in you. The sight of your genuine smile, the one he’s missed so dearly, is like a balm on a wound that has long ached. 

"That sounds so nice. You've always been so good with children." Your compliment is heartfelt, and Jeongin feels a pang of longing.

He responds with a light-hearted joke, "That’s more your area of expertise," referring to your work as a school counselor. You chuckle softly, taking a sip of water, and Jeongin senses there’s more you wish to share.

"And... what about everything else? How have you been holding up?" Your question is gentle but probing, and Jeongin’s grip tightens around his glass.

"It’s been... different," he admits. "The apartment feels empty without you there. Like something’s missing."

Jeongin hadn't intended for his words to emerge with such raw intensity, but they tumble out before he can rein them in. He watches as they land upon you, the way your gaze falls and a shadow of sorrow flits across your face. "I'm sorry," you murmur, the words almost lost in the quiet of the room. "For leaving like that. I didn’t know what else to do."

Your apology strikes a chord deep within him, a resonance of shared pain and regret. "I know," he replies softly, his voice carrying the weight of understanding. "I don’t really blame you. We both had to figure things out." The atmosphere between you shifts, the earlier tension giving way to something more tender—like an old wound beginning to mend. 

Jeongin sits beside you on the couch, his nerves stretched taut, a wire humming with unspoken words. His hands are clenched in his lap, a desperate attempt to hold himself together as the silence stretches, thick and heavy. His gaze is drawn to you, to the way you hold your glass of water—fingers wrapped around it as if it were a lifeline, anchoring you to some semblance of normalcy. 

He recognizes that look in your eyes—the one that signals you are about to reveal something profound, something that has been weighing on you. "When I left," you start, your voice so faint it nearly dissolves into the air. Jeongin’s breath catches in his throat. He had no clear expectations for the evening, but he can feel that whatever is coming will be laced with pain.

"I didn’t really have a plan," you continue, your voice trembling with the weight of your confession. "I just... needed to get away." He watches as your eyes drift to the water in your glass, your reflection shimmering and distorted. The impulse to reach out and offer comfort is almost overwhelming, but he remains still, his focus entirely on you.

"I ended up halfway across the country," you say, your voice gaining a faint thread of strength. "I reached out to Lily. You remember her, right? From college?" Jeongin nods, a wistful smile tugging at his lips despite the ache in his chest. He recalls Lily’s vivacious spirit, her constant care for you, and feels a pang of gratitude that she was there for you in a way he couldn't be.

"She didn’t ask questions; she just told me to come," you add. Jeongin’s heart clenches at the image of you in a strange, distant place, the weight of your grief looming like an oppressive storm. He loathes the thought of you feeling so alone and adrift, needing to travel so far for solace.

"She lives in this tiny coastal town," you continue, your voice lightening slightly as you recall the memory. "For a while, I thought maybe that was what I needed—being somewhere far away from everything." Jeongin can almost visualize it—a serene seaside town where the waves gently erase footprints, a place where time seems to stretch indefinitely, offering a balm for the wounded soul.

Yet, beneath the surface of your words, Jeongin senses an undercurrent of dissatisfaction. The coastal retreat, while soothing, evidently fell short of the healing you sought. His heart aches, burdened by the realization that he wasn’t able to provide the support you needed, even as he too was grappling with his own struggles. The distance between your shared past and the present feels vast, and he yearns for a way to bridge that gap, to be the anchor you needed, even though he was floundering himself.

You pause, and Jeongin watches as you swallow hard, the movement of your throat a testament to the weight of your words. "I eventually realized that it wasn't enough," you say, your voice trembling with the effort to hold back tears. "I needed more help. So, I checked myself into a grief recovery program..." The words falter, and Jeongin feels a tightening in his chest, the emotion reflected in your wavering tone. "A place where people go when they've lost someone and don't know how to keep living."

He stares at you, his vision blurring as he grapples with the magnitude of your suffering. He's known grief, but seeing it through your eyes—so raw, so utterly consuming—is a new experience for him. Guilt crashes over him like a relentless wave. He wasn't there for you. He couldn't help. He didn't even know how to begin.

Jeongin opens his mouth, an apology poised on his lips, but you continue, your voice cutting through the silence with a quiet determination. "There were days I wanted to leave, but I stayed. I wrote a lot. I planted a small garden there, just to feel like I was nurturing something again, you know? And slowly, I started to remember things without feeling like they were completely breaking me."

His hands tremble in his lap, the truth of your words stirring a deep regret within him. He should be happy that you found a way forward, relieved that you began to heal, but instead, he is overwhelmed by the ache of not being there for you—by the realization that he had abandoned you when you needed him most. His eyes search yours, desperate for some sign that you don’t harbor hatred towards him.

"I can't imagine what that must've been like," he finally manages, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry I ended things when you needed me. I didn’t know how to help you through it, and I—"

You shake your head, a wistful smile curving your lips. "I didn’t know how to let you help me, either. And I wasn’t ready to accept Nari’s death and move on yet. That’s why I left." Your words settle into the spaces between his ribs, a cold weight pressing heavily on his chest. He wants to explain, to tell you that he was lost too, that he struggled to keep his own head above water while watching you drown. But he stays silent, knowing that this moment belongs to you, just as much as it does to him.

"I needed to find a way to live with the grief," you say softly, "to not let it define every part of me. And maybe I needed to see if I could come back and face everything, including you."

Jeongin’s heart skips at that, a flicker of hope igniting within him. There is a softness in your eyes that he hasn't seen in so long, a hint of something that almost resembles hope. He takes a breath, feeling a slight loosening of the weight of his own regrets. "I'm glad you did," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "I missed you—missed this, even if it wasn’t always easy."

You nod, and he sees a myriad of emotions dance across your face—relief, uncertainty, and perhaps the faintest trace of affection. There is much to unpack, many layers to explore, but for now, this moment of quiet honesty, of shared pain and cautious hope, feels like a tentative step towards understanding.

Jeongin notices his hand is closer to yours than he had realized, and for a fleeting moment, he wonders what it would be like to reach out, to touch your skin once more. But he doesn’t. Not yet. For now, he is content to sit beside you, to listen, and to cherish the hope that this—whatever it is—might be the beginning of finding each other again.

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🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS!

[starry-bi-sky]

ive been hesitating to ask this bc youve been on a roll with the clone^2au (which i am frothing over) but could i poke you for some childhood friend au? bc GOD i wanna see how danny reacts to reuniting w jason or how the rest of the batfam react to learning jason never told danny of his resurrection or wondering if dannys gonna put jokers dead body on a display/offering to jasons grave. i havent been normal about this since i first read it and was wondering. thank you for your writing.

RAAAAHHHH DON'T BE HESITANT I AM JUST AS FERAL OVER MY CHILDHOOD FRIENDS AU AS I AM WITH CLONE^2 I AM DELIGHTED BY THIS. Like.,,,, i literally love them,,, so much. I can't listen to The Crane Wives without thinking of them.

(which is my fault - the ao3 fic of them has literally only crane wives lyrics for each chapter title and summary (posted AND the ones not written) so of course im gonna associate with them.)

(if you wanna listen to some of their songs while thinking of cfau here are my recommendations: "Once & for All", "Here I Am", "Hollow Moon" is a Danny AND Jason song to me, this would be my go-to song for an animatic of CFAU if i had the skills for it. "Tongues and Teeth", "Curses" and "take me to war" is a heavy cfau danny song to me, and of course, "the moon will sing")

Like they're BEST friends dude, they're two sides of the same coin and when they were kids they would do this thing where their 'fingers crossed'/'double-crossed' was them hooking their index fingers in the fingers crossed gesture.

and i'm actually currently rewriting my original post into a more fic-like format, and when I'm done I'll post it on here under the cfau tag - with the original post still in tact. But its,,, gonna be so long dude,,,, the original behemoth was just over 9000 words,,, and I've written 3k words already of the new one and we haven't even reached Jason and Danny reuniting at the gala yet,,, i need to get back to that,,,

and then to answer your questions!! god im almost hesitant to answer because i dont wanna spoil the little fic i had planned for it but also like,, its not like im gonna spoil everything, right? and answering the questions isnt the same as writing the scene down so!!

i love danny and jason's reuniting, like i've thought about it SO much and I've thought about it happening after Danny kills the Joker. I know the reveal could have been before that, and it could have been equally just as dramatic but like??? Thematically, doing it after danny kills the joker is SO good. To me at least.

Because like?? Jason's been in somewhat denial about danny's plan to kill the joker for months. ever since danny told him that he wanted to at the gala. And from Jason's pov its not even technically a plan. He sees his best friend for the first time after five years and his best friend still isn't over his death. He hasn't stepped foot in Gotham since his funeral and now suddenly he's here.

And he's still so full of grief over his death that he tells a masked vigilante that he's going to kill the guy that did it, who lives in said masked vigilante's city. And danny's got that look in his eyes that Jason knows so well that means he's being serious. And yet he still doesn't know if he should believe him or not.

And then he does. Danny kills him. And Jason can't fucking believe it. And when he goes and sees Danny, Danny's hands are still covered in blood. And that reunion? God like a fucking firework show. Danny's so fucking angry, and pissed, and hurt, and so goddamn overjoyed that he's alive and here that he sends them both to the ground, and if he doesn't calm down he's gonna take out the power in a five block radius.

there's just so, so much yelling on Danny's end. And then so much crying, first from Danny and then them both. because god, you're alive. you're here. i've missed you so much. i'm never letting you out of my sights again.

and Joker's death! God I don't want to actually say too much about that, but the way I have it set up thematically makes me actually not want danny to take any part of the joker with him as an offering. and he may actually forego that particular ghost etiquette and offer something else as an offering to Jason in substitute to not bringing him the Joker's heart/head/ritualistic body part.

Because you know what the last thing a man whose been spending the last two decades of his life building himself up to be larger than life would want? A death that's unremarkable. :) and that's all i'll put on the matter for now.

and the batfam!! they technically already know that jason hasn't told danny he was resurrected, and plenty of them have mixed feelings on them. largely bruce and dick i think, considering they saw firsthand how close jason and danny were when they were kids.

Dick was honestly surprised at first when he found out that Jason hadn't told Danny he was alive - and on one hand he understands the reasoning for it, and on the other hand he isn't sure if it was such a good idea. Especially after he sees Danny again after he arrives back in Gotham and sees just how badly Jason's death was still affecting him. But it's not like he's going to try and convince Jason to tell him - he can make his own choices, even if Dick has questions about them.

Bruce has much the same thoughts as Dick, so there's not really much to add here other than he might bring it up once or twice to Jason like, vaguely. And then immediately drops it when Jason shuts him down. He might actually somewhat...?? prefer that Jason hasn't told Danny because that raises a lot of questions and could jeopardize their identities. However, again, Jason can make his own choices and there's not much Bruce can do about it other than disapprove from afar.

Tim who knew of Danny from stalking the Wayne family shares similars sentiments of being surprised that Jason didn't tell Danny, but again, yeah, understands the thought process to some extent. Doesn't bring it up ever.

Everyone else who hadn't seen firsthand how close Danny and Jason are don't really have much opinion on it -- Jason didn't tell his best friend he was alive, great, he also didn't tell them either so it's not like its that much of a surprise. It would've been more of a surprise to them if Jason had told Danny before he told Bruce and co. Damian may make a comment or two about Jason not telling Danny, but its not about how he can't believe he didn't tell him or anything like it.

[ezdotjpg]

do you have any directors commentary on the recent two updates? 👉👈 the color palette is absolutely lovely! and and and WOLF!! :DD

OH BOY DO I

In the original draft of this chapter, Wolf stays a, uh, wolf until like the 4th update. Instead of actually managing to get his teeth on the master sword, Loft threw him off immediately. The Deku Tree still said the line about all three of them being heroes and Slate is like. “Including the fucking dog????!” I thought it was very funny but a) it made some scenes later down the line a huge pain and b) I was tired of drawing wolves ALDKDKD

You may have noticed Wolf’s scowling in the bg of almost every panel. That’s kind of just his face, but also right now my guy is nursing the world’s biggest migraine from popping the shadow crystal out of his skull. He can stay wolfmode for a while, but it’s still technically a curse. It’s not consequence free, and there’s an upper limit for how long he can spend in that form. Anyway, cut him some slack if he’s a little prickly for a bit.

There were a lot of comments about Loft being strong enough to toss a wolf over his head lol. My hc is that he’s one of, if not the strongest Link sans any magic items like power bracelets or gauntlets. He’s actually not even as strong now as he was during his quest. Wolf maybe has him beat now, but he can still get tossed lolol

It might seem like Slate’s really taken everything that happened at the end of ch1 in stride, but don’t worry. He’s simmering. Loft is grateful for the opportunity to get distracted by something else. Maybe that’s why he was so willing to approach the wild animal he’s never seen before lol

This maybe goes without saying based on the events of the last two updates, but Slate never had wolf link with him during the events of botw. He doesn’t recognize Wolf.

I’m really glad ppl seem to be liking the colors bc I struggled with them so hard on both updates 🫠literally days of me turning to my roommate and going “I think I’ve never made anything worse” and them going “it looks good stop being dramatic” WKDJDK I have this thing where if I had an idea in my head for what an update should look like, and what I produce doesn’t meet it somehow, I start seeing in fucking. shrimp colors. Posting always gives me a confidence boost back lol.

these pages were cursed in general bc like. this doesn’t usually happen but I think I redrew every panel in this update at least 5 times each. that’s part of why it ended up being late SKDJF

I REALLY like the idea of being in the presence of the Triforce and having access to its power being this eldritch, divinely horrifying experience. The sort of thing that is impossible to explain to anyone and also haunts you forever. Loft spends a lot of time actively trying not to think about the Triforce. Just, like, remember that about him.

Like how tears in reality are shown through holes in the literal comic panels, I tried to show the concept of reality bending in the form of a panel stretching and twisting like a ribbon ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ I hope that came across. Triforce lore varies a bit from game to game, but I’ve come up with my own internal logic for bonus links that combines all the ideas I like lolol. We’ll learn more about it in due time!

I also really like this parallel :D I intentionally set up the panels so past and present loft would line up like this. i love getting to draw flashback links it’s so fun to think of ways to convey what they used to be like, and how their quests might have gone for them. Past Loft’s not having a great time by the time he reaches this point lol

I think that’s all I’ve got for now. Thanks for asking :D

[miviaceleste]

A Blackrock Story: A Boy with Turquoise Eyes

Happy 12th Anniversary to Blackrock Chronicle!

This comic ended up being 47 pages long (when I first sketched it, it was only 20 pages long). Since I can only upload 30 images in a post, I had to combine 2 pages into 1 image so hopefully it's still visually fine and not annoying to scroll through!

I wrote this mini-story more than 10 years ago, so I figured it was time to finally make it into a comic (after editing the writing a lot because I became a much better writer since lol).

Be aware of the TWs, and I hope you enjoy this comic!

TW: Violence || Blood || Injuries/Scars/Burn Marks || Kidnapping || (Temporary) Death || Loss of Limb / Amputation

Thank you all for reading one of my most insane projects ever!

Now, here’s another long story:

About 8 years ago, my life became so busy that to stay on top of my studies and activities, I stopped watching a lot of YouTubers, including the Yogscast.

I’ve grown up throughout the years. I had to stop acting like a kid to figure out what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I’m still an artist today, but I haven’t drawn in this way for about 3 years to pursue my real passion. I love to draw, but I didn’t have the time or inspiration to make something grand.

About 3 months ago, I suddenly got curious about how all those YouTubers I stopped watching were doing, so I checked out their channels and watched a video or two before moving on. When I got to the Yogscast channel, on the other hand, I quickly fell in love with the new content and with everyone again.

It was insane to see how immediately my love for them came back. In 3 months, I’ve watched so many videos and streams/VODs. It’s all so comforting, funny, and uplifting. Clearly, I missed so much content in the past 8 years, but at least I don’t have to worry about running out of things to watch for a while.

What made me most happy was that despite changing a lot, I never stopped being that kid who laughed at the Yogscast’s shenanigans. It just goes to show that no matter how much the world tries to push you around, you never lose that sense of joy you had as a child.

Now, about Rythian:

Since I started watching the Yogscast in 2011, Rythian has always been my favorite. I loved his series so much, especially with how he got into character to give us an immersive experience. It was an escape for me as a kid. When difficult moments were thrown at me, I watched Rythian’s series to find a sense of comfort.

So when I started watching his and Zoey’s Blackrock series, my mind was blown. The storytelling, acting, humor, and drama of the series were so immersive and touching that my creativity exploded.

I mainly use art to express myself and my interests because I struggle to talk about it. But funny enough, Blackrock was the only interest of mine that got me to not draw, but to write. I wrote a lot of short stories about the series—even how I envisioned the series would end. I was so inspired to create all the time from this series.

And what’s crazy is that at the beginning of this summer, I found all of those written drafts and notes from when I was a kid. I kept them all for 10+ years and found a very loose (and not that good) draft of this comic and I felt really inspired to finish it.

It was roughly when I was first watching Blackrock too when I realized that I can be creative in the future. The Yogscast helped me understand that I can do whatever I want for the rest of my life. If they could do it, then why can’t I?

What’s also wonderful is that even after so many years, Rythian never stopped being my favorite. When I started watching the main channel again a few months ago, I immediately found myself rooting for him whenever he was in the group videos. I just remembered how much happiness he brought me when I was younger and it makes me so happy that I still get so much joy whenever I hear his voice.

While working on this comic, I watched all of Kirbycraft and caught up on Kirby Farm. I can’t help but smile the whole time Rythian, Briony, and Kirsty interact with one another. The dynamic of these three brings me so much laughter and comfort. A part of me is upset that I didn’t get back to watching everyone when Kirbycraft was still live, but better late than never, right?

I also originally started this comic without the intention of posting it. But then I figured, Hey, it’d be great to share it with everyone who’s also been impacted by this series and the Yogscast in general, so I made this blog to post it here. Honestly, I’m not sure when the next time I’ll be able to draw is (who knew building a career takes away a lot of your energy and time?). But I think that’s what’s so wonderful about my love for Yogscast and particularly Blackrock: I didn’t make this comic for the likes or views. It was just because I wanted to, and I’m so happy to see there are so many people on here who feel the same love for them as I do.

This series and the people who made it, along with the people who supported it and loved it and continued to love it, impacted me for the better. I learned so many years ago that I can be creative for a living, and have been working hard towards doing that since.

Happy 12th Anniversary to the Blackrock Chronicle. To Rythian and Zoey who put a smile on this kid’s face even during the toughest of times.

And to the Yogscast, thank you for being there for me when I needed you all the most and for still being here when I came back. Your ability to inspire me and make me laugh never disappeared throughout the years I was gone, and I’m ready to laugh some more.

[devondespresso]

(found this bad boy in my drafts and honestly i loved reading it again so we're gonna post it. wahoo)

my personal canon for post-starcourt stobin is that they're actually inseparable for the first month or so

im talking steve taken to the hospital for his injuries and the staff having to force them apart and call security. im talking they have to drag robin kicking and screaming to a different room because last time Steve left her sight he was dragged back lifeless and presumably dead (i firmly believe they intentionally used physical torture for steve and to use his condition for psychological torture for robin)

and steve waking up half-present in a cold plain room alone? might as well be back in the bunker. and if theres doctors trying to run tests and examine his wounds? might as well be Russian soldiers standing over him and touching his injuries. hurting him again. possibly planning to hurt Robin next.

and now hospital staff are trying to deal with two screaming desperate teenagers who keep begging for the other in between rambles of nonsense and they can't run tests or do their jobs or even get answers from them because all these two seem to care about is the other teen

so they don't really have any practical choices other than moving them to a combined room. and they still freak out every now and then but having the other in the room keeps these outbursts much shorter and doctors are able to actually run tests and help these kids as long as they're close together. And when Robins blood tests and everything come back ok and shes able to be discharged, shes given special permission to stay in the room at all times

and the two little kids that came in with them? they're not exactly freaking out quite like the teens but they're certainly not making things easy either. Ericas testing the willpower of any doctor or nurse she can speak to and both kids stay as close as they can at all times and refuse to leave the hospital. visiting hours over? they're in the waiting room, even convinced a couple to move so they can have seats closest to the hall that teens room is in. try to call their parents? good luck getting a full name or number out of them. once their parents do come get them they're showing back up in an hour, bikes lodged in the bike rack and back in their seats. they've been stopped for sneaking in several times and caught hiding under one of the teens beds even more often. eventually staff just gets tired of spending half their shift wrangling two middle schoolers and it becomes an unspoken agreement to just ignore them hiding in the room.

And once Steve is discharged its the same thing all over again. Robins parents were worried about her spending all her time in the hospital with the boy from her summer job, but given the cover story about the fire and the pair getting trapped inside they convinced themselves its reasonable to want to stay by your friends side while they recover

but now that hes out, shes asking if she can spend the night at his house? and his parents won't be there? absolutely not. except robins in no mindset to accept leaving him alone for this long let alone overnight so she tried sneaking out to bike over to his before he can get the dumb idea to drive over in the middle of the night post-concussion. but the buckleys notice shes gone either because she makes too much noise sneaking out or they notice the severe lack of Robin-trying-to-be-quiet noises into the night (robin my tism queen definitely has bump-into-shit syndrome in the middle of the night but she also doesn't make any noise sneaking around the base with scoops troop so i think it's a 50/50 weather she can use the adrenaline to sneak out to see steve quietly)

so they put two and two together and drive over to the Harrington house. steve answers the door and calls robin over, both of them looking sheepish but not exactly guilty. they talk on steves couch (yes Steves there too) and stobin does their best to explain their separation anxiety that gets the severity across without getting them sent to a mental hospital all while making sure not to break any ndas (which ends up being a long conversation with stobin trying to translate their experience in the bunker to fit the cover story well enough, which is very different when the real story is kidnapping and the fake one is a building fire)

eventually they reach an understanding of "we're worried this is kinda unhealthy but its clearly more stressful to try and separate you right now and we're definitely not going to be able to stop you" so they compromise to let steve stay at the buckleys for a little bit so they can at least keep an eye on them. at first they try just letting steve sleep on the couch (which they agree to because steve worried about overstepping as the guest in their house) but one or both of them have nightmares the first night and robin ends up on the couch with him anyway.

after a few nights they get the gist of the stobin dynamic: attached so strongly its concerning but nothing... flirty. anything they do is always completely innocent. hand holding with no heart eyes, banter with no tension, hell even sharing a bed they resemble little kids in a sleepover pile more than lovers. and especially after nightmares they'll find robin holding steve like hes just one of her old teddy bears.

of course theyre still cautious and have their suspicions that theyre secretly dating and just really good at hiding it, they're paranoid parents after all and robins never shown this much attention to a boy ever. but they do relax a bit with it as they're more confident theres no... funny business.. going on. or at the very least nothing thats going to leave robin hurt. they'll have their talks and robin will promise its "nothing like that", but they've grown to like steve so they're sure robin will come to them when shes ready.

now if only there was a reasonable explanation for the middle schoolers that keep showing up. apparently they were also trapped in the fire with robin and steve which helps make some sense of it, but they also sat with them in the hospital. surely if they're having nightmares about the fire they'd go to their parents? they hadn't really talked much with the sinclairs but they seemed like very loving parents and robin follows steve to his little dinners with mrs Henderson pretty often so its not likely that they can't go to their parents about nightmares, but they seem to prefer going to steve specifically. like ringing the Buckley's doorbell at 1 in the morning asking if steves there. and of course they'll let them in and show them to robins room (after calling their parents first, do they even know their childs run off?) where steve was sleeping in a pallet on the floor but is now a glorified blanket pile robins hugging. on her bed, of course. because god forbid theres 2 feet of space between them.

and the kid just joins them in their sleepover pile, dustin usually clinging to steves other side like a baby koala and erica usually finding a spot leaning against robin or occasionally making room in between them

and so more often than not the Buckley's have not one, not two, but three extra children in their house that isn't their daughter, all of them sleeping in a pile on robins bed like theres nowhere else they'd rather be

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

progress of a commission

so these are pieces I was commissioned for a month or so back, and to prevent a ruining-of-a-surprise, I queued this post 3 weeks ago (aka around when I sent it out in the mail)

The commissioner wanted to get two matching pieces that read "It's a Corpus, not an archive" for her and a friend, both getting PHDs.

First, I draft and put the text to paper, since oftentimes the text is actually the quickest part. Then I do WIP sketches for the specifics the commissioner.

Here, we're going for a particular cat (I get reference images), a heddgehog, and a pile of archival papers and books. Then, since there are two of them, one gets the arms of navarre and the other gets a bookbinding frame

then we have the drafting for all the borders, which, in this case, was a combination of sage and mint

finalize designs for both, and finish out the black ink linework:

then all the colour, leaf detailing, etc

et voila! not identical, but rather matching pieces of commission!