#i hate dams i hate dams i hate dams i hate dams

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

Because you are my partner | Jun-ho x Fem!Detective!Reader

Warnings: Takes place after the end of S1 - Some events from S2 - Does not follow canon events in order - Angst - Guns - Unspoked feelings -

The first thing Jun-ho never expected to listen when he woke up at the hospital after being shot by his brother no less were cries and insults.

Insults that were for him.

"You stubborn idiot! Why did you not tell me, why did you go alone, look at you now. Fucker if you dont wake up im killing you myself, you little-"

"I thought you would be more worried" Jun-ho said, voice hoarse since he havent drank any water in a long time. His vision was still a bit blurry, but he could locate your voice anywhere.

"You! YOU ARE ALIVE!!" You revealed your red face from crying and went to hug him, trying not to hurt him. "Never do something like that again"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

Time passed, Jun-ho got demoted from detective, even when you, the second best in the division besides him, you had threated to leave as well, but In-ho insisted you not to. He knew how much you had worked for this position, he would not let you fall behind cause of him.

"Its not fair" You said one night at his aparment being a bit drunk "Yeah, what you said its kind of crazy and you have no proof but..."

"(Y/N) stop it, its pointless"

"But you would never make a lie like that. You dont like crime, you hate it. Since your brother went missing...no you would never play with something like that" You said convinced taking a big gulp of your beer.

"I think you had enough beer for tonight" Jun-ho went to take the beer can from you but you held his hand.

"I believe you, I dont care how crazy it sounds I believe you Jun-ho"

Like that, he felt less lonely.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

"I think I told you this was not something you should keep doing" Jun-ho told you as you passed iced coffee to his fellow companion and him. "We are not allowed to drink when working..."

"Then take a dam breath, its summer. The streets feels like they are on fire" You told him on a stern tone taking a sip from your own drink

"Should you not be at the sitation?" He asked

"You wont believe how much criminals like to do nothing when its as hot as today. We mostly get calls at night. Nothing like, well nothing like what you are looking for" You added in a quiet voice

"I told you, I left that behind"

"Yeah sure you did, you dont give up that easily, always has been like that. Since we were at the police school. And, you cant lie to me. Im your partner, remember ?"

"Actually-"

"Shut up and drink the dam ice coffee your cheecks are red as a fruit"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

One year went on. You were assigned anothet partner but you were being a bit childish and did not like working with him.

It was not his fault, you were just so used to Jun-ho that any other person just felt....wrong.

"(Y/N) you need to stop it" Jun-ho said while you two ate some lunch

"I know, but can you blame me? I cant work well with him, he is too-"

He is not you. Thats what you wanted to say but you had to bite your tongue.

"Is he misstreating you?" Jun-ho asked getting protective, he knew you had pass for hard situations during your training just because you were a women.

He would be on your side during these moments, both when you faked feeling strong and when you needed to vent out and cry.

"No. He is...different. I just need to get used to him"

"It has been almost a year..."

"I know just- give me some more time. Also I want to meet that captain that saved you. Maybe we can go and fish together.

Jun-ho went silent after it. He was reclutant to do so, since he had been looking for the island he was in, but he had told you he had long stopped, he did not want to put you at risk.

"Maybe tomorrow..." He said in a low voice, knowing that you would kept insisting. And maybe he would be able to keep the lie.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

Things have been good so far, In-ho managed to convince you to meet him and the captain at a near restaurant.

The three were drinking in just enjoying the time. Sharing stories, jokes, just having a good time.

"Thanks for saving his ass, he can be quiet a pain" You said to the older men who just smiled.

"Dont say it Lass, he still has me looking around for that dam island..."

And the good time shattered, your eyes turned cold as you looked at him.

"Is he? Please tell me more captain"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

"You told me you had stopped" You said angry at him. "Told me to stop looking into details at the deparment, do you know how much I did risk!"

"Yes! I know, thats why I told you to stop. I did not want you to put your career in danger"

"When will you understand ? You dont have to do this alone. Im your friend! Fuck we have know each other for years, if I want to help you and put my career at risk, then let me do it. Im an adult I know what im doing.

"No, I could never ask you for something like that. You know the story, these peopel are dangerous and well prepared if something would happen to you..."

"Do you think it was easy? For me? When you dissapear? There was no way on finding you, some told me to move on. But I never stopped beliving in you, knowing that you would not leave like that"

Of course not, I would never leave you.

"Listen, I understand. Really, but you cant stop me. I want to help you, and I will do so. Let me lend you a hand. Maybe this time you will catch them"

Jun-ho was conflicted, he knew having some backup would help him. But he did not want you at risk, why if you ended like him? Trapped there ? Or worse ?

But he also knew you were a hard one. Someone who once they had set their mind on something were not easy to give up. Maybe it would be better that way, making sure on having you at his side while he worked and looked for information.

"Alright, no more secrets. We will work on this together, but if something seems to be just a little bit dangerous you are out"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

And like that another year went by. Both looking to find that island and whatever information (Y/N) could get from the station.

"Most are peopel with big debts" Jun-ho said one afternoon, the cold of the winter hitting their noses leaving them red. "Maybe some have criminal record"

"Yeah but their families would have to denounce then as lost. If these peopel just vanish some would think they ran away because of their debts. I will still check on the records..."

Jun-ho nodded grateful to have her working with him.

"You dont remember any name? Or face?" (Y/N) asked him, making him stop. He did remember his brother shooting him but he could never say it out loud. "The players used numbers..." Still him mind was working like he was missing something...

And then it clicked

"Wait...I may know someone"

"Really? You can tell me their name and I will look into it"

"Seong Gi-hun, thats the name"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

"Are you sure he is here?" Jun-ho asked a faint blush on his cheecks as both of you looked up from inside the car.

"Yes, I asked a friend from another work to look up, he owns this place and has no direction of a current home. Maybe he manages the place or lives here..."

"Well, last time I saw him he did not look like someone who would manage a love hotel" Jun-ho said, voice trying to hide his nerves.

His mind wondering to things, like you. You two on a date, that would end with something more. He would be a gentlemen during all it. And he would take you to his home and do it on his bed, not a meaningless place like a love hotel.

And he would do that and more because he...

"Hey look!! That one, is not him?" You asked seeing a man getting from a car and going inside the hotel.

"It is. Stay here" Jun-ho ordered but before he could get out from the car you held his arm back.

"What? No!" You said not beliving his words "Im going in with you, we are a team, get it in that tick skull of yours"

"Listen (Y/N) I saw these games, if he is here then its because he won. He murdered peopel. He cant be trusted"

"These are just more reasons for me to go in with you" You declared, "You have my back and I have yours, thats how this relationship works"

Jun-ho looked to the side to hide his blush and recluntantly nodded "Alright..."

Unkown to them Gi-hun had been checking the cameras and had spotted their car. He held his gun not knowing who they were.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Reunions are never easy. Even less when its with peopel you dont trust.

"Who are you? Why are you following me?"

And less when guns are involved.

Maybe Jun-ho had lost his touch, his day giving out speed tickets have passed him consequences. Otherwise he would never have let himself be jumped and have a gun pressed against his head.

"Im a police officer, I just want to talk" Jun-ho said trying to ease the situation but only got Gi-hun to press the gun harder.

"How do I know you are not with them?"

"Cause we have been looking for them too" You said gun raised at Gi-hun who looked suprised for a moment but did not move. "Drop the gun Seong Gi-hun we are aiming for the same goal"

"Yeah? How can I trust any of you? Or what you said?"

"We want to stop the games too" Jun-ho said from beneath him "Thats why we have been following you, you are our only lead"

Slowly Gi-hun removed his gun and let Jun-ho get on his feet.

"I never said a thing about games..."

"Yeah...thats why we have been looking for you. Jun-ho here was in but doing kind of a double agent work. Without help"

Gi-hun had to supress a smile at your stern tone.

"Wait, you are the police who asked me about it. During that time.."

"Im, and this is (Y/N) a fellow police officer and the person I trust the most to end this"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

"Train stations? A Man in a suit? Ddakji and getting slapped?" You asked while counting with your fingers the major things Gi-hun and told you and Jun-ho.

He had a big map of the stations with lots of marks and points. He was indeed looking for someone.

"Yes, I know it sounds crazy, but its like that. You get a card with a number, you call it and then you are part of the games" He said serving three coffees "It has been two years and i havent been able to find him"

"Well, now you have two more peopel to count with" You said smiling a bit "We can ignore the criminals that are working for you..."

"(Y/N)...." Jun-ho said but you cut him off.

"What? More peopel means more eyes and less space to cover. Besides its not like we have proof that they do something bad, and you know with. Without proof theres nothing you can do"

Gi-hun had departed both of you. Giving one of his many phone numbers and warning that these peopel were dangerous.

But deep down he was grateful, grateful that there was someone else out here who had seen the same.

"Dont worry, we will catch them" You shaked his hand noticing how he seemed to be sad and stressed, you could only imagine how bad things have been for him.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

"What do you think?" Jun-ho asked as he drove back to your aparment.

"I think he is being honest and will accept our help. Besides no one does so much without a reason" You said having take note of his deep search for that man, the multiple guns he had and the cameras around. "He is scared too"

"Well...he does have a reason to be" Jun-ho softly said stopping outside your complex "I never asked you, why help me so much? I know we are friends but this is a big league, worse than any case you had ever seen"

Because I love you. I have been in love with you for so long. I cant seem to live knowing you put your life at risk without any help. I dont want to repeat the time when you vanish and I see my life with you in it-

"Cause you are my partner, and...I care for you" You said and left the car before he could respond to hide your blushing face

"Wait!! (Y/N)" Jun-ho screamed pulling the window down. You stopped looking over your shoulder "I- I care for you too"

He started the car leaving the window down, too nervous, he could track down dangerous criminals and be undercover for the worse criminal gangs, but confessing his feelings to you...

He was not ready, at least not yet.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

You went into your aparment, heart beating fast as you went in. The darkness welcomed you, just as you turned for the lights you hear a click.

A gun click.

"Well, you must be (Y/N)...I must admit you are more beautiful than what the photos show"

You turned around one hand ready to go for your own gun. Before you stood a man, tall dark hair, and black eyes, wearing a expensive suit.

"I recommend you to not try anything stupid. I just want to talk. And maybe we can play game"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

Final note: *evil laught*

[seulszn]

No. 1 Party Anthem

Guitarist Vi x Reader

Warning: suicide.

A/N: This fic is based off the song No. 1 Party Anthem by the Arctic Monkeys. This fic is 5k words and I wanted to be longer but I decided to make it two parts

PT2

Life had become a shadow of what it once was. The bright future you had imagined, once bursting with promise, now felt unreachable, like a fading mirage in the distance. Each day was heavier than the last, a relentless loop of arguments and expectations that crushed the little hope you had left. Your parents bickered over trivial matters, their words cutting deep, while school was no refuge. Teachers constantly reminded you of your failing grades and the looming threat of being held back. The walls of your existence seemed to close in tighter every day, suffocating and inescapable.

And now, here you were, standing on the edge of a bridge in the quiet dusk, tears streaming down your face. The evening sky was painted in serene hues of purple and orange, a stark contrast to the storm raging within you. The cold metal of the railing pressed into your hands as you leaned forward, feeling the pull of gravity. Below, the river shimmered in the fading light, its calm surface whispering promises of peace and escape.

Closing your eyes, you tried to shut it all out the pain, the noise, the endless cycle of despair. For a fleeting moment, memories of happier times surfaced, unbidden but vivid. Your mother’s laughter as she spun you around the living room. The carefree joy of summer days with friends, running barefoot in the sand. The pride in your father’s eyes when you made him proud. These memories, once vibrant, now felt like they belonged to someone else, a life you could no longer reach.

As the tears fell harder, you leaned forward further, your grip on the railing loosening. The pull of the void below was stronger than ever. Just as you were about to let go, a voice broke through the silence, piercing through the darkness in your mind.

“Wait! Stop!”

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. The urgency in the voice sent a jolt through you, like lightning breaking through a storm. You turned slightly, startled, and saw a girl running toward you. Her red hair caught the fading light, and her wide eyes were filled with panic and determination.

“Don’t do it!” she cried, reaching out as she neared you. Without hesitation, she grabbed your arm, her grip firm yet gentle, as if afraid you might vanish if she let go.

The warmth of her touch and the raw emotion in her voice broke through the suffocating haze around you. For the first time in what felt like forever, the chaos in your mind quieted, just slightly. This stranger, someone who had appeared out of nowhere, seemed to care enough to stop you.

“Please,” she said, her voice trembling but steady. “You don’t have to do this. Just talk to me. Don’t let go.”

Her words, filled with desperation and compassion, held you in place. Tears blurred your vision as you hesitated, the weight of her plea grounding you in the moment. For a fleeting second, you wondered if perhaps you weren’t as alone as you thought.

The girl pulled you closer, her voice soft but insistent. “Please, trust me,” she said, her grip unwavering. You stared at her, anger and emptiness swirling inside you. A part of you hated her for intervening, for not letting you end it all, but another part of you lacked the strength to fight back.

Finally, with trembling legs, you stepped down from the ledge. She immediately wrapped her arms around you, holding you tightly in a hug that felt both foreign and comforting. Her embrace was warm, steady, and unyielding, and it shattered the dam inside you. The tears came freely now, an unstoppable torrent, and she simply held you, whispering soft, reassuring words as you cried into her shoulder.

When she pulled back, her hands cupped your tear-streaked face. Her thumbs brushed away the tears with a gentleness that made your chest ache. “Don’t cry, pretty girl,” she said with a soft smile that was both kind and a little shaky. Her words felt sincere, but you couldn’t help but wonder if she was just saying them to keep you from jumping.

“My name’s Vi,” she said after a moment, her gaze never leaving yours. “What’s yours?”

The silence lingered as she waited patiently, not pressuring you to respond. When you didn’t answer, she simply reached down for a large black case she had set aside and slung it over her shoulder. Then, she extended her hand toward you. “Let’s get you something to eat, yeah? How does that sound?”

Hesitantly, you placed your hand in hers, and she smiled a small, reassuring expression that felt almost contagious. “There’s a burger joint not far from here,” she continued, pulling you gently along. “It’s my favorite place. I was actually on my way there from guitar practice when I saw you. I’m really glad I did.”

You followed her silently, your thoughts spinning. Why had she done this? Why did she care? You were a nobody, weren’t you?

Vi led you to a small diner with a glowing neon sign that read *Burger Planet*. Inside, the atmosphere was cozy, filled with soft 90s rock music and walls adorned with posters of iconic musicians. It felt distinctly like her a blend of warmth and edge.

As you slid into a booth, a waiter approached, their face lighting up when they recognized Vi. “Oh my gosh, are you Vi? From Piltover Dreamers?” they squealed. Vi nodded with a polite smile, but her focus quickly shifted back to you. When the waiter assumed you were on a date and seemed put off, Vi dismissed it, quietly ordering food for both of you without pressuring you to speak.

When the waiter left, Vi turned back to you, her eyes soft but searching. “This place has the best onion rings,” she said casually, trying to ease the tension. “And their butterscotch milkshakes? Top tier.”

You barely heard her, your mind still trapped on that bridge, still replaying the moment over and over. The noise in your head was deafening. Vi must have noticed because she leaned forward, her voice gentle but firm. “Hey, look at me,” she said. When you couldn’t, she didn’t push. “I’m here,” she added softly. “You don’t have to say anything right now. Just… focus on the music and me. That’s all.”

The soft strum of a 90s rock song floated from the jukebox, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the world seemed just a little quieter.

When the food arrived, Vi dove in with enthusiasm, munching on her burger and onion rings without hesitation. You, on the other hand, sat motionless, staring at your plate. The hunger you should have felt was drowned out by the overwhelming emptiness that had consumed you. You didn’t reach for the food, instead poking at the onion rings absently.

Vi glanced at you mid-bite, a smudge of ketchup on the corner of her mouth. Her carefree expression softened when she noticed your hesitation, yet she said nothing at first, giving you space. The sight of her, so unbothered by her messy eating, tugged at something deep within you, and before you realized it, a faint smile crossed your lips—a smile so small it barely felt real, but it was the first in weeks.

Vi noticed immediately. “Hey, look at that,” she said with a grin, gesturing toward you with a fry in hand. “Progress.” Her tone was light, teasing, but kind.

When you didn’t respond, she tilted her head toward your untouched food. “Eat something,” she encouraged. “Trust me, you’ll feel a little better once you do.” When you didn’t move, she reached for her own burger and sliced it cleanly in half. Holding the smaller portion out to you, she added, “Here, try mine. It’s amazing.”

You stared at the offering, then up at the girl sitting across from you. Her expression was open, patient, and somehow reassuring. Reluctantly, you took the half she handed you and brought it to your mouth. You took the smallest bite possible, wary that anything more might make you nauseous. The taste was good, but it barely registered over the tight knot in your stomach.

Vi watched as you forced yourself to chew. “There you go,” she said softly, as though praising a fragile victory. She leaned back, her tone casual but probing. “Do you have a place to stay tonight? Maybe a friend or family member?”

The question hit you like a punch to the gut. You winced, your mind immediately going home to a place where your pain was dismissed as attention-seeking and your struggles as selfishness. Going back to your mother after this would be unbearable. Shaking your head, you looked down, avoiding Vi’s gaze.

She didn’t push for details, but her brows knitted together in concern. “Then stay with me tonight,” she offered.

Your head shot up in surprise. “You’re not a burden to me, if that’s what you're thinking ” she insisted, her voice steady and sure. “You can have my bed, and I’ll take the couch. Please. I just… I don’t want you to be alone tonight.”

Her words were so earnest, her plea so genuine, that for the first time in hours, the crushing weight on your chest felt just a little lighter.

Vi waved the waiter over, her casual confidence putting you at ease as she ordered two butterscotch milkshakes to go. “I’m so glad I don’t have practice tomorrow,” she said, pulling out her wallet and paying for the meal. “That means I can relax and hang out with you. We can make it a mini sleepover!” Her smile was radiant, her energy infectious as she grabbed the takeout bags containing your food and the shakes.

Vi stood from the table with ease, slinging her guitar case over her shoulder like it was a natural extension of herself. Her movements were confident and fluid, a sharp contrast to the cautious hesitance that seemed to weigh on you. She gave you a warm smile and motioned for you to follow.

Outside, the night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain from earlier in the evening. The parking lot was quiet except for the occasional hum of passing cars. Vi led the way, her boots scuffing against the asphalt as she pointed ahead. “That’s my car over there,” she said, gesturing to a beat-up old sedan. The paint was chipped in places, but it had a certain charm that made it feel distinctly hers.

She clicked the key fob, and the car chirped as it unlocked. Without hesitation, Vi walked to the passenger side and opened the door for you, leaning on it with an easy grin. “After you, pretty,” she teased, her voice dripping with playful confidence.

Her words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you hesitated, unsure of how to respond. There was no malice in her tone, only a lightheartedness that felt... safe. Reluctantly, you climbed in, the faint trace of her cologne lingering in the air as she closed the door behind you with a firm but satisfying slam.

Vi jogged around to the driver’s side, her guitar case now safely resting in the backseat. Sliding into the driver’s seat, she started the car, and the engine rumbled to life. The radio flickered on immediately, filling the space with the familiar sound of the 90s-inspired rock song from the diner.

She adjusted the volume, turning it up just slightly as she glanced at you with a knowing grin. “Recognize this?” she asked, her hands steady on the wheel as she steered out of the parking lot. “This is one of my band’s songs. I’m the lead guitarist and singer, in case you were wondering.”

Her pride was evident, but it wasn’t boastful. She spoke as though she were sharing something deeply personal, a piece of herself she thought you might need to hear.

As the car glided through the streets, her voice softened, carrying that same effortless charm she’d shown all night. “We’ve got a tour coming up soon, so we’ve been practicing like crazy. It’s exhausting, but honestly? It’s worth it.” She glanced over at you again, her smile a little more reflective this time. “But tonight? I’m glad it’s just us. No bandmates, no rehearsals. Just you and me.”

The rhythm of the road beneath the tires and the melodic hum of her song created a tranquil atmosphere. For the first time in a long time, the world around you felt less suffocating, the weight on your chest a little lighter.

As the car slowed to a stop at a red light, you turned your gaze out the window. The city at night was both busy and serene, the glow of streetlights reflecting off the wet pavement. There was something oddly comforting about the way the world seemed to carry on, indifferent yet peaceful.

Vi’s hand moved tentatively, her fingers brushing your arm in a hesitant gesture of comfort. Her touch was warm but careful, as if afraid you might pull away. At first, you flinched, your body tensing instinctively as you looked at her.

Her eyes met yours, soft and full of unspoken understanding. “Sorry,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She started to pull her hand back, but something in her expression stopped you from letting her retreat. Instead, you stayed still, allowing the gesture, the quiet reassurance it carried, to linger just a little longer.

Vi pulled her car into the underground garage of her apartment complex, the soft hum of the engine fading as she turned off the ignition. She looked over at you, her smile warm and inviting. “We’re here,” she said, her voice light with reassurance.

She stepped out of the car and quickly retrieved the takeout bags and milkshakes from the backseat. Then, in a small but thoughtful gesture, she walked around to the passenger side and opened your door for you. Her hand lingered near the edge, as if silently offering support you needed.

Once you stepped out, Vi led the way to the main entrance of the building. The sound of her boots echoed faintly in the quiet garage, while you padded silently behind her, your bare feet a sharp contrast to her confident strides. Reaching the door, she pulled a sleek key fob from her pocket and pressed it against the verification panel. A soft beep sounded, and the door clicked open.

The lobby was modern but understated, with clean lines and muted tones. Vi walked ahead, her pace steady but not rushed, glancing back every so often to make sure you were still with her. She stopped at the elevator and pressed the button, the soft glow of the panel illuminating her hand.

As the two of you waited, she broke the silence. “You’re very quiet,” she observed, her voice gentle and free of judgment.

The elevator doors slid open with a quiet chime, and Vi stepped inside, motioning for you to follow. You hesitated for just a moment before stepping in beside her. She pressed the button for her floor, then leaned back against the wall, her gaze falling on you once again.

“I’m not rushing you to talk,” she said softly, her tone laced with patience. “Take your time. Do it when you’re ready.”

Her words were comforting, but it was her expression that caught you off guard. She wasn’t just looking at you she was studying you, her eyes lingering on the details like they held some kind of meaning she was trying to piece together.

Her gaze drifted briefly to your dress, its soft, white fabric fluttering slightly with your movements. Then she noticed your feet, bare and vulnerable against the cold elevator floor. Guilt flickered across her face for a moment, and you saw her jaw tighten slightly, as though berating herself for not thinking to offer you her shoes earlier.

“Damn, I should have offered mine” she thought, though she didn’t say it aloud.

The elevator beeped, signaling that you’d reached her floor. The doors slid open, revealing a quiet hallway with soft lighting and neatly numbered doors. Vi stepped out first, turning slightly to make sure you followed. “This way,” she said, her voice still as steady and kind as before.

She led you down the hall to a door near the end, its surface slightly scuffed but otherwise unremarkable. Turning to you with a small, reassuring smile, she reached into her pocket. “We’re here,” she said, fishing out a keychain adorned with a few small trinkets a faded guitar pick, a miniature skull, and a rubber band wrapped around the metal loop. Finding the right key, she slid it into the lock with a practiced motion and turned it. The door clicked open, and she pushed it ajar before stepping back slightly.

“Go on in,” she said, gently urging you forward. You hesitated briefly before stepping inside, Vi following close behind and shutting the door softly behind her.

The first thing you noticed was the scent an earthy mix of lingering weed, faint traces of Axe body spray, and a subtle woody aroma that made the space feel strangely inviting. “Home sweet home,” Vi said with a quiet chuckle, dropping her bag onto the floor near the entrance.

As you stood there, your gaze wandered over the space. It wasn’t large, but every inch of it felt like an extension of her personality. Posters of various rock bands adorned the walls, some you recognized and others more obscure, their edges slightly curling with age. A tattered tapestry hung in one corner, its bold colors clashing beautifully with the muted tones of the room.

The furniture was mismatched but functional. A well-worn couch, covered in a patchwork of blankets, sat in the center of the room, facing an old coffee table cluttered with an ashtray, a few crumpled receipts, and a stray guitar pick. Nearby, an electric guitar rested against a small amp, both well-loved and scuffed from years of use.

A bookshelf stood against the far wall, filled with an eclectic mix of books, vinyl records, and random knick knacks everything from candles to small action figures.

A stack of Polaroids was pinned to a corkboard above the shelf, their faded colors hinting at memories Vi clearly held onto.

Vi watched you carefully as you took it all in. “Not much, but it’s mine,” she said, her voice tinged with pride. She bent down to unlace her boots, kicking them off near the door before walking toward the couch. “Make yourself at home,” she added.

You stood there, feeling out of place yet strangely welcomed. The room’s chaos felt oddly calming, as if the clutter and imperfections were an invitation to let go of the weight you’d been carrying.

Vi walked into the small kitchen, carrying the takeout bags with ease. The sound of rustling paper and containers opening briefly filled the quiet apartment as she put the food away in the fridge. A faint sigh escaped her lips before she turned back toward you, her steps unhurried as she made her way over to the couch.

She plopped down with a heavy exhale, her legs spreading apart in a comfortable manspread. Leaning forward, she rested her elbows on her knees and buried her hands in her hair. “Practice today was so fucking stressful,” she muttered, her voice low and tired, tinged with frustration.

You were still standing exactly where you had been when you walked in, unsure of where to go or what to do. The hesitation in your posture hadn’t gone unnoticed by Vi. She glanced up at you, the faintest smile tugging at her lips despite the exhaustion etched across her face.

“But you made it a lot better,” she said softly, her tone sincere. That small smile grew just a little as she raised a hand and patted the empty spot on the couch beside her. “Come on, sit with me,” she added, her voice coaxing yet patient.

You hesitated for a moment before finally taking a step forward. Your movements were slow and tentative, your mind still caught in the whirlwind of everything that had happened. When you reached the couch, Vi didn’t wait for you to decide—she reached out and gently grabbed your hands, pulling you down beside her with an ease that caught you off guard.

Once you were seated, her hands didn’t let go. Instead, she shifted her grip, cupping your face with a tenderness that felt foreign but oddly comforting. Her thumbs brushed against your cheeks as she tilted your head slightly, her rough palms warm against your skin.

“Stop your crying, pretty girl,” she murmured, her voice soft but firm. The nickname rolled off her tongue like it was second nature, carrying an unexpected kindness. “You’re too pretty to cry.”

Her thumbs brushed against your cheeks again, and it was only then that you realized tears were falling tears you hadn’t even noticed. Her touch was gentle, deliberate, as she wiped them away. You could feel her studying you, her gaze intense yet careful, as if she were trying to read a story in your eyes.

Her own eyes searched yours, scanning for something pain, fear, maybe even hope. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable; it felt like she was giving you the space to breathe, to exist in this moment without expectation. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself lean into someone else’s presence, even if just a little.

“I should get into something more comfortable. I think my sister left some of her stuff here,” Vi said, rising from the couch with a stretch, her movements easy and confident. She extended her hand to you, her fingers warm and firm as they closed gently around yours. Without a second thought, she pulled you up, guiding you down the hallway toward her bedroom.

When she opened the door, the room beyond was unmistakably Vi every corner of it seemed to speak her name. A large lesbian pride flag hung proudly above her bed, its bold colors standing out against the muted gray of the walls. The bed itself was neatly made, its dark comforter offset by a mess of colorful throw pillows that added a hint of playfulness to the otherwise moody aesthetic.

The unmistakable scent of weed hung in the air, earthy and slightly sharp, blending with the underlying warmth of sandalwood. A faint hint of jasmine floated just beneath it, like a ghost of something softer trying to peek through. The walls were a chaotic masterpiece, covered in posters of rock bands some vintage and weathered, others newer, their bold designs adding an edge of rebellion to the room.

String lights were strung haphazardly along the ceiling, their dim, golden glow casting soft shadows and giving the space a hazy, inviting vibe. The warm light reflected off the dark tones of the furniture. On the dresser, a few personal items hinted at her daily life: a scattering of rings and bracelets, a half-empty bottle of cologne, and a small stack of vinyl records. A leather jacket draped over the back of her desk chair looked well-worn, the kind of item someone like Vi probably wore everywhere.

She moved to her closet, opening the door with a soft creak and rummaging through the contents. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure she left some clothes here last time she crashed,” Vi said over her shoulder, her voice casual but tinged with a warmth that made you feel oddly at ease.

Turning back to you, she held up a soft-looking hoodie and a pair of joggers. “These should fit you,” she said, her tone light but caring. “They’re hers, but I promise she won’t mind.”

Vi placed the clothes on the bed before pulling her sweater over her head, revealing a black tank top beneath. She smirked as she caught you glancing around her room. “Not bad, huh? I mean, it’s not perfect, but it’s home,” she said, her voice tinged with a mix of pride and humility.

She grabbed a loose tee from her closet and turned her back to you as she changed, giving you space. The entire scene felt oddly intimate not in a pressured way, but in a way that made the air between you feel warm and safe.

Once she was done, she turned back to face you, running a hand through her short hair. “Feel free to get comfortable,” she said, gesturing to the clothes she’d set out. “And if you’re hungry or thirsty, just say the word. My place is your place now.” Her smile was small but genuine, the kind of expression that felt like a quiet promise of care.

Vi left the room with a soft smile, giving you the privacy to change. The moment the door clicked shut behind her, you stood still for a moment, looking at the clothes she had laid out for you. Slowly, you began to undress, each movement deliberate, your thoughts heavy with the weight of everything that had led you here the bridge, the quiet call of death, the desperate ache that had clung to you only hours ago. As the fabric of your clothes fell to the floor, you felt exposed in more ways than one, but the soft, comforting scent of Vi’s clothes helped ease the heaviness in your chest. The hoodie and sweatpants smelled like her, a mix of her perfume, a hint of weed, and something warm and familiar. The clothes wrapped around you like a protective shield, grounding you in the present, making you feel closer to her even as you wished for escape from the storm in your mind.

When you finally finished changing, you walked back into the living room, feeling oddly lighter in the borrowed clothes. There, you found Vi kneeling by the couch, making it into a makeshift bed for herself. She was methodical, adjusting the pillows and blankets, her movements easy and familiar. As you stepped into the room, she looked up, her expression softening.

“You look better, more comfortable,” Vi said, her voice warm and kind. She gave you a small but genuine smile, the first of the night that truly reached her eyes. You returned the smile, hesitant at first, but it felt good. It felt real.

Once she finished setting up the couch, she stood and made her way to the kitchen. You stayed where you were, a mixture of exhaustion and confusion swirling in your chest, unsure of what you needed but wanting to follow her. Vi returned with a glass of water in hand and gestured for you to follow her. She led you back to her bedroom, her presence so steady and calm that it helped settle your mind just a little.

She placed the water on the nightstand beside the bed and then gently pulled back the blankets, her movements deliberate and soothing. “There you go,” she said, her tone soft, almost like a reassurance. “Get some rest. I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

You hesitated for a moment, staring at the bed, the darkness feeling too heavy without her presence. The thought of being alone with your thoughts again was suffocating, and before you knew it, you reached out, grabbing her arm as she turned to leave.

“Please don’t leave,” you whispered, your voice breaking as the tears spilled over. For the first time since meeting Vi, you allowed yourself to speak, to voice the raw desperation inside.

Vi stopped, looking down at you, her eyes filled with concern. “But don’t you need space?” she asked gently, her voice filled with uncertainty.

You shook your head quickly, the fear of being alone too great to bear. “No,” you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to be alone. Please.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and Vi’s expression softened further. She knelt beside the bed, her gaze never leaving yours as she reached for the blankets, climbing into the bed next to you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said softly, her voice soothing as she lay down beside you. “I’m right here. You don’t have to be alone.”

The warmth of her body beside you was grounding, a lifeline in the darkness. Vi’s presence, steady and unwavering, helped to ease the fear that had been clinging to you for so long. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to close your eyes, not feeling entirely alone in the dark.

Vi sat quietly beside you, watching the rise and fall of your chest as you slept, your face softened in peaceful slumber. The weight of the day was still evident in your body how you had come into her life just hours ago, on the edge, ready to give up. Her heart ached as she thought of the turmoil that had led you here, of the darkness you had carried, and it made her wonder just how deep that pain ran. She had seen the tears, heard the silent cries for help, and despite the strength you tried to hide, she knew the depth of the struggle you faced.

She longed for you to open up to her, to allow yourself to trust her with the secrets you had buried so deep inside. She wanted you to know that you weren't alone, that she would stand by your side, no matter the darkness you felt. Vi could see it now, how exhausted you were from carrying the weight of it all. She could feel it in the way you had clung to her, desperate for connection, and she promised herself that she would not let you fall through the cracks, no matter how hard it got.

Her gaze lingered on you, the way you looked so fragile and yet so beautiful, and a wave of tenderness washed over her. Gently, she leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your forehead, her lips lingering for just a second longer than necessary. She wanted to remind you that you were cared for, that you mattered, that there was still hope.

With a small, quiet smile, she closed her eyes, her heart full of protective affection for you. She knew you were still fragile, still battling demons that no one could fully understand, but in that moment, she made a silent vow. No matter how long it took, she would be there.

Tags: @halle5s @otterluver05 I forgot who else wanted to be tagged but let me know if you wanna be tagged in part 2 orevwa :). Ⓒ︎ seulszn.

[eretzyisrael]

by Terry Glavin

In Liberal circles, a new ideological construction is gaining ground—one that threatens to destroy all that it touches in much the way Critical Race Theory has done. That new idea is “Anti-Palestinian Racism,” defined in such a way as to place Zionism—that is, the view held by the vast majority of Jews—beyond the pale of polite society, and potentially beyond the bounds of Canadian hate speech law.

According to the Arab Canadian Lawyers Association, anti-Palestinian racism is defined as follows: “Anti-Palestinian racism is a form of anti-Arab racism that silences, excludes, erases, stereotypes, defames, or dehumanizes Palestinians or their narratives. Anti-Palestinian racism takes various forms including: denying the Nakba and justifying violence against Palestinians; failing to acknowledge Palestinians as an Indigenous people with a collective identity, belonging and rights in relation to occupied and historic Palestine; erasing the human rights and equal dignity and worth of Palestinians; excluding or pressuring others to exclude Palestinian perspectives, Palestinians, and their allies; defaming Palestinians and their allies with slander such as being inherently antisemitic, a terrorist threat/sympathizer or opposed to democratic values.”

It is worth reading that twice. It is a definition of racism that makes the most fundamental defense of Israel’s existence racist. It renders it impossible to describe antisemitism without running the risk of being described as racist.

Michal Cotler-Wunsh, Israel’s special envoy for combating antisemitism, has some special insight into Canada. The Jerusalem-born 53-year-old former member of the Knesset spent about half her life in Canada. She went to school in Montreal, completed a law degree at Hebrew University, then came back to Canada for a master’s degree. A decade later, she returned to Israel.

Anti-Palestinian racism is a legalistic rendering of a vulgar slogan routinely chanted at anti-Israel marches across Canada over the past 10 months: “All the Zionists are racists.” Cotler-Wunsh points out the obvious: “APR renders anyone who self-defines or who is identified as a Zionist or just believes Israel has a right to exist as a racist.”

What we’re witnessing in Canada is the diffusion of “a very particular kind of antisemitism,” Cotler-Wunsh told me. The country’s susceptibility to the “anti-Zionist” iteration of antisemitism is partly because Canadians have lost the capacity to identify with strongly held national values, Cotler-Wunsh argued. “Canadians aren’t especially patriotic,” she said. “So there’s a ‘live and let live’ idea, but it results in indifference.” And that has allowed antisemitism to course through Canada’s institutional bloodstream, largely unchecked.

Cotler-Wunsh’s adoptive father, Irwin Cotler, is a renowned international human rights champion and Canada’s former justice minister. A tireless advocate for dissidents in Russia, Iran, China, and elsewhere, Cotler served as Canada’s special envoy on preserving Holocaust remembrance and combating antisemitism until just days after October 7.“I have never seen in all my life such a thing, such expressions from people of all ages, such expressions of apprehension, of isolation, insecurity, foreboding, expressed in different ways,” said Irwin Cotler. (Dan Balilty via AP Photo)

Last December, after he failed to show up at a Toronto event celebrating the imprisoned Hong Kong dissident Jimmy Lai, it was disclosed that Cotler was under 24-hour police protection because of a threat to his life. The assassination plot was hatched in Tehran.

“Seeing that was heartbreaking,” Cotler-Wunsh told me. “The thought that this would happen in Canada, the thought that in this multicultural beacon of dignity for all, that Canada’s former justice minister, a human rights warrior who fought for hundreds of people around the world, is under house arrest—you could say, trapped in his own home—is really heartbreaking.”

Heartbreaking is a word that well describes the way Canadian Jews see their predicament these days. “I have never seen in all my life such a thing, such expressions from people of all ages, such expressions of apprehension, of isolation, insecurity, foreboding, expressed in different ways,” said Cotler, 84, when we spoke last week. “I see it when I meet with students; I see it when I meet with elderly people. I hear, ‘This is not the Canada I know,’ or ‘This is not the Canada I came to.’ Or ‘This is not the Canada I have ever experienced. This is something else.’ And they are afraid to publicly express it.”

In part, that’s because antisemitism is no longer just some protest culture eccentricity. It’s going mainstream, from the bottom to the top.

Consider the fact that the Toronto District School Board has voted to incorporate “Anti-Palestinian Racism” within its overall anti-discrimination strategy. APR has been endorsed by the NDP and championed by Liberal MP Jenica Atwin. Its most senior advocate is the Trudeau government’s own Special Representative on Combating Islamophobia Amira Elghawaby.

Last month. Elghawaby said Trudeau himself had agreed to come up with a definition of APR and put it into practice.

It’s already gotten to the point that if you enter public conversations by saying anything contrary to the APR doctrine, you’d better be very careful. Say anything that contradicts Palestinian narratives, or questions the right of Palestinians to sovereignty in all of “historic” Palestine, or something that could be construed as “denying the Nakba,” and you can end up destroying your political career, no matter how solid your progressive bona fides might be.

[rustedleopard]

I'll ask! Would Cerojin get divorced? They are both very stubborn people. I can see them trying to work it out somehow (even if only for Kanako's sake).

I love how people are starting to see me as the Cerojin divorce guy, lol

For the most part, I see Ceroba's and Chujin's relationship going out in such a spectacular fashion that there's no way for them to try to salvage it. I'm talking "months/years of poor communication and the stresses of life and having to provide for the family practically singlehandedly" putting cracks in the dam that is Ceroba's idolization of Chujin that holds back anything... unsavory that she might feel about him. And then, one day, the dam breaks and Ceroba goes from "Chujin is so wonderful and perfect" to "Chujin is awful. He's done nothing but bum around while I've had to do everything for the family!!! I hate him!!!" And then their relationship goes out in a full-on "flinging magic and words you can't take back (and maybe a chair)" messy explosion. (Okay, well, it wouldn't be immediate, there would be signs that Ceroba's getting frustrated with him, but she's too busy trying to bury/ignore those feelings, so you'd only really see her temper flare up occasionally before she tries to steady herself by saying "My husband is a wonderful person, I'm doing what I can to help him. I shouldn't be acting like this" and Chujin's too busy focusing on what he wants to do that he's not paying attention to how his wife feels. They CANNOT communicate properly for the life of them :'). The relationship still peters out pretty quickly once Ceroba stops feeling the love, though.)

Buuuuuut, let's say that they're able to communicate well enough that they can tell each other "We NEED to make this work. We can't get a divorce. We can't have our marriage fail." Well... It would be a nightmare. To say the least. They'd both only try to force the relationship and make it work for their own egos without any of the groundwork that makes a relationship work, so at best it'd be a public performance of what a happy couple should look like instead of what it would be like. A happy and healthy marriage needs more than just love to work. It needs trust. It needs shared responsibilities. It needs proper communication. And these are areas where Ceroba and Chujin fail each other. Sure, maybe they might be able to act like they tolerate each other when they're out in public (i.e. not yelling at each other, though there's still some weird tension between them that some people would be aware of). But behind closed doors, I can't see this facade holding up well. Conversations would be so insanely passive-aggressive, that you'd have to call them "passive-aggressive-aggressive." They would probably develop a routine like this every day:

Ceroba: "You're home late. How was work?" (<- Said with a smile tight enough that she could put teeth marks into steel)

Chujin: "Fine." (<- Chujin got his ear chewed off about not contributing financially around the house so he got the first job that he could to prove her wrong. He hates it and his negative feelings about his job rebound onto Ceroba because he feels like she forced him into it.)

Ceroba: "Oh, that's wonderful to hear! Well, dinner's on the table for you. Kanako and I already ate, so you'll have to have it alone."

Chujin: "... It's cold."

Ceroba: "Oh, well. That's what happens when you stay late at work without telling me. Microwave's in the kitchen, you can handle it yourself." (<- she is already thinking about the bottle)

And on and on and on. They'd be the sorts of people that everybody else around them wants them to get divorced because they're sick of all the arguing and stress and anger. Starlo in this situation, brave man that he is, tries to recommend that Ceroba gets a divorce and ends up getting yelled at because "How dare you suggest that we can't make things work!!" Martlet doesn't seem as privy to Chujin's home life as Starlo is with Ceroba, so all she knows is that things are rough at home, but she tries to invite him out bowling or to relax in Honeydew's hot spring to get some of the stress out. Both of them are trying their best to help their friends, but this isn't something that they can handle because their friends are just.... astronomically stubborn and stupid.

(And this isn't even getting into how a monster's health is heavily tied to their emotional state. A monster can literally be put into a near-death state from grieving too hard. Can you imagine how rough things would be with all that stress? Humans already experience a myriad of health problems when put under stress for an extended period of time, so you can just imagine how bad things would be healthwise for a monster. Food for thought...)

And as for Kanako? Oh my god. Out of everybody in this situation, she is the one I sympathize with/pity the most. Ceroba and Chujin have a choice in their relationship and how it's going/turns out, but Kanako doesn't. She's just a kid. Like I said earlier, on paper they might say that they're trying to make this marriage work, perhaps "for Kanako's sake," but that's their egos speaking because if they were actually paying attention to what their daughter wants, they'd realize that she'd be happier if they weren't fighting all the time, even if that means a divorce. I can see her feeling responsible for how terribly things are going because they keep saying "We're trying to stay together for your sake." Maybe she tries intervening in arguments to stop Mommy and Daddy from fighting each other, but over time gets burnt out on doing that because she's not stopping them from fighting, she's only delaying the inevitable. Most likely, she'd avoid being at home/around her parents as much as possible because there's so much tension at home and she never knows when tempers are gonna flare, so it's better to sleep over at friends or spend the day at the Wild East/the Sunnyside farm/at the playground/Cafe Dune/somewhere else. Over time, her parents' constant quarreling could even burn her out/make her jaded and irritated with her mom and dad as well as depressed because she feels like it's her fault they're like that. She never asked for her mom and dad to try to maintain their relationship for her sake; she just wants to be happy, whatever shape that happiness may take.

Tl;dr Divorce is a mercy in this situation.

[justawanderingfan]

So was anyone gonna tell me that California used to be covered in lush wetlands and large lakes until the 20th century when farmers diverted every river in California for their crops that didn’t suite the environment causing million+ year old lakes to dry up which is why California is now a desert or was i just supposed to find that out in class myself

[somewhereincairparavel]

i have ALWAYS promptly looked forward to jason grace's povs in the hoo books to the point where'd I'd flip the pages till I find the words "JASON" and would count the amount of povs he has in the whole book before I even finished reading, so I feel excited knowing that I'll get to his povs soon. there, I said it.

[kirrua]

[no-tengo-ojos]

TMAGP series finale is happening on a GWR train so expect it to be delayed by approximately 46 minutes

[shrimpari]

“I made a pact with Vol, a pact of Blood”

Strahd von Zarovich and his very, very good friend.

[lastchristmas]

1989 (Taylor's Version) album concept

[aboxofcereales]

I think there should be some magnificent writing done of the looming moral dilemma of Elspeth Rook Mercar, the Breaker of Bonds, the firm believer in heroic nonsense, falling for a Lucanis Dellamorte, whose calling is death, the First Talon of the Crows. Because no matter how big and soft his heart is, he’s still unavoidably will lead the organization who helped to save Thedas, yes, but also is intertwined with many of the horrors that the Shadow Dragons oppose. And yet, still she will always choose Treviso, instead of Minrathous.

[gulasdenforbreakdowns]

Ok no I'm actually loosing it because why is me saying my opinion on yesterday Ferrari circus "not knowing the sport" or "watching f1 from dts"??!!

Like ok my first error was voicing my opinion on tiktok where people have the same intellectual ability of an house plant ( and that's insulting the house plant) but wtf?! Now suddenly having an opinion ( not even an opinion it's practically a fact and I basically said what I wrote in my other post) means that idk how the sport work?! I'm just flabbergasted and deeply offended because it's one of my biggest and older passions and hyperfixations and ok it shouldn't matter what people say online but I really hate when people assume things about me.

Anyway sorry for the rants we will soon return to our scheduled program of me being horny on main and treat drivers ( and possibly others) as my personal barbie dolls ( working on how to make the two menace being magic girls with their death broom brooms) :3

[pinkd3mon]

To trust somebody

[leveragedlibrarians]

I gotta say 'The Last Dam Job' is golden in many ways but by far the best part has got to be the line delivery on "And a Chinese Artifact"

[afrogsmoraldilemma]

I am a woman in STEM*!

*Suffering Through Every Moment

[ramontism]

Ohh hes just a lil baybeeee!!! (Even tho he’s what mid 20s) he.. he dunno better!!! (Pretty sure he knows, but keep gaslighting urself into believing he doesnt iggg)

(Also btw people treating Franco like this and considering him as an actual baby is what made me lose interest. Get a fuckin hold of urself)